Adventure, Mayhem, Magic of unknown origins, and talking colorful Ponies. All being unrelated events have brought three friends together into the wildest holiday that anyone could imagine.
Adventure, mayhem, magic of unknown origins. Oh, and talking ponies. These are the strange events that have brought three friends together into the wildest holiday that anyone could imagine.
It starts as a small Halloween chat, where they showcase their costume designs to one another. However, due to events outside of their control, they soon find themselves in a new land during a turbulent time.
Now trapped in a case of mistaken identity, these friends find themselves thrown into the deep end, when a royal wedding they’re asked to assist with is suddenly interrupted, and the three of them soon find themselves on an extended holiday from any sense of reality they ever knew.
We now have our own An Extended Holiday TVTropes Page: A big thank you to wille179 for setting it up. A/N: Now I would like you all to know first of all, this is a collaborative work between myself and some friends. So if you enjoyed this, why not stop by and say hello to the other three writers of this story. I have included their links at the bottom here. Team Extended Holiday American Brony - Writer Teal Speckles - Writer Shawn820 - Writer OmniKitsune - Writer/Head Editor Biker Dash - Editor
Big thanks to Shawn820 for the great cover art. WARNING: There are spoilers in the comments. Read the comments at your own risk. By all means, please add to the discussions.
“All right.” A tall man with long brown hair parted up the middle pulled on his cuffs to align them. “After a few adjustments, I’ve got everything the right length. How’s your costume coming along, Matthew?” he asked as he looked into his computer’s camera.
“Goes well,” Matthew answered through the computer speaker. “Got my haircut yesterday to add to the point.” He chuckled as he adjusted his glasses. The bristles of his short dirty blond hair shone under the light from his room to play into the military aesthetic of his costume. His phone screen glowed while he finished shoving his feet into his boots. “My mother is a little irritated. Now all I need to do is wait for my ride. By the way, I won’t make our weekly DnD game. Heading up to my grandparents for the four-day weekend.”
“That’ll be fine. Everything’s a bit scattered with Halloween and all that follows.” He frowned as he looked back at their group call. “Shouldn’t Taze have been on by now? I get that his outfit probably has some work to it, but….”
“Might have been delayed. Oh, while we’re waiting, I might as well tell you some good news. My uncle from George Park got me an IPOD!” A grin split the man’s face from ear to ear as he showed off his new prize to his friend. “Give me a sec. I want to play you a song.” Without waiting for a reply he plugged the IPOD into a speaker and pressed play. Music began to filter through the room and into the microphone on his laptop.
Shawn watched through the camera lens on Matthew’s laptop as a train engineer and a heroine knight danced in time to the music in the foyer. A young toddler dressed in a frilly pink princess dress, complete with pointy hat, walked over to Matthew with a smile and proffered a Rainbow Dash pony figure. “Play ponies?” she asked.
Matthew looked at his wrist watch. “Well, how about tomorrow? Don’t you and your family want to go get some candy?” He smiled at the dance the Princess gave. “Want to say hello to Shawn?”
She grinned and turned to face the camera, then waved frantically as she looked at the screen to the man in the dark blue coat. “Hi, Uncle!”
Shawn offered a gentle smile in turn and waved, revealing the golden trim along the costume’s sleeves.
“Pretty! Are you a king?” she asked.
“Nope.” He chuckled as he adjusted the cravat at his neck. “A character from a show.”
“What show?” she asked.
“Maybe we can ask him later, Elizabeth. Let him talk with your uncle,” the engineer offered.
“Okay, Daddy. Can Uncle Mathew come with us?”
“He came with you to the trunk or treat. He’s got plans with his friends. Besides, you promised to help clean up Grandma and Grandpa’s yard.”
She looked sad, but nodded. “Okay….”
The knight soon joined her husband. “Come on, Elizabeth. Let’s go get your brother away from Grandma. Maybe she’ll still have a cookie for you before we go out for the night.”
Elizabeth squealed in excitement and raced down the hall as her parents smiled once more and waved to Matthew before following after her.
Matthew looked to Shawn. “Sorry about that. It’s the one downside of using the laptop in the main front room.”
Shawn gave a brief chuckle. “No worries.”
“Sounds good,” Matthew answered. “Still, where is Taze?” he asked.
It was here that the sound of the familiar Skype ringtone happened as the group chat they had created signaled the arrival of their long-awaited guest.
“Yo!” The Screen Popped to life as a head of messy dirty blonde hair held back by a large pair of goggles popped into view. Beneath the goggles, a pair of blue eyes and a smirk looked out at the world. “Sorry about that. The final details took longer than I expected.”
“I figured.” Shawn shrugged. “Well, either that or that something had come up.”
“Looking good, by the way. That coat of yours came out really well.” Taze Chuckled.
“I agree. It looks very regal,” Matthew chimed in. “And not a problem, Taze. Life happens.”
“Yeah, figured that if I was going to make something for the upcoming convention, why not use it for Halloween as well?” Shawn smiled as he pulled open the side of his coat to reveal the hilt and pommel of a sheathed sword.. “I even grabbed one of the decorative blades my father owned to add on to it.”
“Very nice.” Taze Nodded as he held up a replica katana and a smaller jitte blade. “I Got these for the look.”
From the hallway in Matthew’s foyer, Taze and Shawn saw a man dressed as Uncle Sam walk in briefly, then pop away again. “Dang, and all I got is this case,” Matthew said. He walked off screen and came back bearing a large leather attaché case. He opened it up and displayed the contents. “Authentic millennial attaché case. As you can see, I even have some documents inside. The Declaration of Independence, Constitution of The United States, Magna Carta, my mission scriptures, a survival book for the US Army, The Art of War — never can go anywhere without that book for the costume —, and for you, Taze, because you keep talking about it, The Five Rings. I also have Count of Monte Cristo along with Hunt for Red October by Tom Clancy, Redwall, Martin the Warrior. Oh, Time Machine and War of the Worlds! Along with Frankenstien and Dracula.” He continued to pull out books “Oh, and I have Hamlet and MacBeth and the complete Sherlock Holmes book series.” He grinned more at this. “My brother gave me the Geneva Convention as well for some of the file holders in the case.I stamped them to make it more authentic.” He couldn’t stop smiling. He paused then and patted his pockets, checking to make sure he had everything he needed one last time. “Oh, and also a pocket Constitution.”
“And you’re still missing something if your friends all have blades,” Uncle Sam spoke up as he entered the room again. “I was going to give this to you on your birthday, but I suppose now’s as good a time as any.” He produced a box wrapped with bat and pumpkin wrapping paper.
Matthew looked to the group. “Mind if I open this in front of you all?”
Shawn gestured for him to go ahead.
“No problem,” Taze said.
Matthew smiled and opened the box to find a fully kitted out K-bar knife.
“Now you all are armed and dangerous,” Uncle Sam spoke with a laugh. “Heaven help any world you go to.”
“Or time period,” a woman dressed like Lady Liberty said as she approached and kissed Uncle Sam’s cheek.
Matthew laughed and shook his head as he strapped it to his outer thigh. The two could see the clip to a smaller folding knife on him. “Now I feel safe going to any corn fields.”
“Yeah, here’s hoping you don’t need to use it, huh?” Shawn chuckled.
“Yeah, pretty sure that's not going to be an issue.” Taze laughed. “Not like anything big’s gonna happen tonight.”
Uncle Sam chuckled as he left the room. “Watch. Tonight’s gonna be when the zombies hit.”
“Please, no,” Matthew snapped. “I don’t want to think about it at all. And this is real life, not some sci-fi story.”
“Well, there was that one parasite,” Shawn commented with a smirk. “Jokes aside, it was great to chat with you all, but it’s almost time. If it’s anything like last year, I’ll be giving out candy for the next two hours. That, or until I run out.”
“Going out, just walking around, see if I can find some friends to talk to, basic stuff.” Taze chuckled. “You guys stay safe,”
“Will do,” Matthew answered. “And good luck Shawn, hope you keep some for yourself.” His eyes glanced at the laptop clock. “Seems like my ride is a little late. Also, … I am looking forward to when Omni gets back from his mission and our group is whole again. Oh, and while I’m at it, thanks for keeping me sane in my recovery.”
“Later,” Taze said and he vanished from the call.
Shawn chuckled as he disconnected from the call. “All right. Here’s hoping three bags will be enough this year….”
The conference room stood silent; so silent one could have heard a pin drop. Freshly broken pieces of pewter and blobs of foam and ale splattered the table where Luna had shattered her mug. The threat still lingered in the air around them as the supposed ‘diplomatic’ party fled the scene.
“Cowards! Scoundrels! Wretches! You would dare threaten Canterlot less than a fortnight from a joyous occasion?” Luna shouted after them, her enhanced voice echoing thunderously through the halls.
“Luna, please, calm yourself,” Celestia said gently as she laid a wing over Luna’s back. “Like it or not, those messengers are still protected under law. They must be allowed to leave the castle unharmed.”
“Our father would have killed them before they finished speaking, Celestia,” Luna growled.
“Not so. He would have given them each a proper chance first. You know his rules,” Celestia countered.
“Your Highnesses, if I may,” Shining Armor, the Captain of the Royal Guards began, “I would like to remind you that the last Engagement of War Laws state that I can put up defenses at any time the crown deems it necessary. Whether we be in a state of war or not, I can still throw up a barrier to protect the capital and ensure certain events remain undisturbed.”
Celestia nodded. “Well cited, Captain Shining Armor. I want a close eye kept on those messengers. Make sure they leave the city’s walls, then cast your spell.”
“Aunt Celestia, is that really wise? They’ve all but declared outright war. Pushing them out would be the most effective method, and Shining’s magic would repel anyone he deems a threat or enemy when he casts it,” Princess Mi Amore Cadenza said as she frowned.
“I agree with Cadance,” Shining Armor answered. “We have no information outside of old mare’s tales and history books about these creatures. And after everything from your sister’s return to Discord’s defeat and reimprisonment, I’d rather be overprepared than overwhelmed.” He looked to Celestia. “Or would you rather we wait for him to pull us out of this mess, instead of fighting our own battles?”
Luna smirked knowingly at her sister, then turned her attention back to Shining Armor. “I suggest we postpone the wedding and put the city on full lockdown while—” The mare was cut off as the doors burst open and a Unicorn guard galloped with all speed.
“Your highness!” He looked to Celestia who then after a moment gave a small barely perceivable gesture toward Luna “Ses,” he finished weakly. “Something is happening out in the garden near the draconequus statue!”
Shining Armor immediately rounded to address the guard. “Get to the barracks and bring up guards. I want a full mobilization. No colt or mare stays behind And send word to Captain Night Shade as well. Ask him to have his troops on standby, in case we need reinforcements. I hate to wake his guard like this, but this is an emergency.” He turned to the sisters and his fiancé with a grave expression. “It seems the threat may already be in motion.”
“Come, Sister. We should see to this personally!” Luna rose to her hooves. She moved her head as if to lift something at her side, then looked sadly at the empty ground before heading off for the garden.
“Cadance, I want you to take your guards and lock yourself in your room. Ward it against any intruders until we get a better understanding of what’s going on,” Celestia ordered.
“But—”
“Don’t argue with me, Cadance. You’re the prime target right now, not only for your love, but the magic you possess to control and spread love. Please, do as I ask.” A hint of steel crept into her voice. “I won’t let them hurt you.”
Cadance approached her guardian and hugged her gently with her wings. “Be careful, Auntie. Please.”
Celestia brushed Cadance’s hair lovingly. “We will. Just remember to do the same for yourself. It won’t be much of a wedding without the bride, you know?”
Cadance chuckled as they broke contact. “Auntie.”
Celestia turned to the remaining guards that had been stationed behind the princess’ seat during the proceedings. “Escort her to her quarters with all haste.”
“Of course, your Highness,” the two guards said in complete unison. They formed up on either side of Cadance and led her away. As they exited the chamber and rounded into the hall, one of the two guards smiled as her green eyes flashed malevolently.
Out in the gardens, near the draconequus statue, a weird phenomenon was indeed happening above Celestia's beloved rose bushes. The flora were among her favorites because they always seemed to bloom pink on her birthday, despite being red, and gave off the smell of fresh cake. The air seemed to shimmer, waver, and twist in odd ways that shouldn't have been visible against the blue sky, and yet were still quite visible.
“What is that?” Luna balked. “Nevermind the guard, send for a mage!”
Shining Armor turned to one of the Pegasi. “Get to the barracks and bring a squadron of battle mages,” he ordered. “This could be a portal invasion. If anything comes through, I’ll hold it back, but the sooner we get some specialists here, the better.”
As the Pegasus took flight, Shining Armor used his horn in an attempt to scan the ripple that most definitely was not a heatwave. He frowned at the opening as he let his magic die. “Whatever it is, it’s not like any magic I’ve encountered before.”
There was no warning, no great change, no outpouring of energies of any sort. One instant, the wavering was there. The next moment, three figures crashed into the rose bush, snapping branches and leaving the bodies draped at odd angles over the sturdier portions of the structure. And then, like some great mouth that had finished disgorging an unpleasant meal, the ripple “shut,” disappearing without a single trace, save that which it had ejected into the now-mutilated topiary. Two rolled off the crushed parts of the plant and landed with their faces on the dirt while the third splayed atop the center of the bush, suspended by the firmest of the branches and the main trunk jutting into its back. A large leather bag landed heavily in the dirt next to the bush after crushing several branches and shoots, deforming the poor plant all the more.
The third creature’s eyes were wide open, and deep blue gazed into the azure above as pupils fluctuated. Its mouth gaped and flapped like the fabric of its coat while a gentle breeze rolled through the garden.
“Stand back, Your Highnesses,” Shining warned as his horn glowed.
“The endless void. The embers of life before.... Those creatures, the eyes watching. Waiting.” The creature took a shuddering gasp as its eyes rolled back and it fell into unconsciousness.
“I know those ramblings.This creature has seen things that should not be seen,” Luna stated. “He must be handled carefully, lest his fragile mind be shattered.”
Celestia frowned. “It … spoke Draconic. Are these supposed to be a lost branch of the species?”
“I doubt it, sister. Their forms seem more like small Minotaurs, devoid of fur,” Luna commented.
“If that’s so, how could they have survived for this long? Their bodies look weak, no outer defensive horns. They’re ripe for a predator to take them down. One of them seems to have deliberately shaved its only fur almost to the pelt.” His frown deepened as she peered closer at the one that had shaved its head. Red blood had already begun to flow from the scratches the rose bush had left behind on its face and hands. “We may need to treat them for injuries. Their hides are much thinner than a Minatour’s, judging from this one.”
“Regardless of their physical state, it’s clear that they’re a new creature. However, it’s also clear that they come from a civilized species, judging by their garments,” Celestia noted as she eyed the three. “That implies that they can be reasoned with. I agree caution should be exercised, but we shouldn’t necessarily imprison them until we’ve had the chance to hear their stories.”
“What do you suggest Princesses?” Shining Armor asked both Celestia and Luna.
“We will each take a prisoner and some guards and keep them separated. Hopefully, we can learn enough to decide what to do from there,” Luna commented as she walked over to one covered in what seemed to be green leather and wearing goggles. “I’ll take this one. He has the look of a combatant.”
Celestia frowned. “I had hoped you would take the one with the fragile state, given the mind is more your field, sister, but if you believe your choice would be better suited, then I can take this one. It appears to be of noble bearing, judging by its garb, and that means I should be able to keep it in an area that will be comforting to it.”
“Be careful how you treat it, Celestia. Its mental state will be dire for a while,” Luna warned.
“I will. You needn’t fear,” Celestia promised.
“Then I suppose we’ll take the last one for questioning.” Shining Armor levitated the case and opened it to reveal the various documents and books. “It seems they are well read. I’ll ask it about these when it wakes. Its garb is somewhat reminiscent of the camouflage some of our Earth Pony recruits are trained with, but the make doesn’t appear to have any direct military application. It certainly wouldn’t stand up well to a sword.” He frowned. “We’ll get to the bottom of it soon enough.”
Matthew woke from sleep to see warm colors on the walls and dim lights. However, the pinching at his wrists and the sounds of machines raised his heart rate. “What happened?” he asked as he tried to focus. Unfortunately, the room was just a blur without his glasses. The beeping rose steadily with his heart rate as fear caused it to accelerate. That sound alone told him all he needed to know. What he didn’t understand was why the hospital had gone so far as to restrain not only his arms, but his legs as well. The frame on the bed creaked and groaned as he tried to use his weight to no avail.Just what had happened? Did he try to remove an IV or something while he was unconscious? He couldn’t remember anything since—
“Easy. Easy,” a voice called from his side, interrupting his train of thought. He turned to the voice and his heart leapt into his throat. His mouth became bone-dry. There, standing in front of him, was a lanky-looking bipedal Dragon with deep blue scales, a familiar set of leathery wings, and fangs that were bared in what he could only hope was the Draconic equivalent of a friendly smile.
Of course, friendly or not, Matthew did the only sensible thing any self-respecting human would do in this situation.
He screamed bloody murder.
The Dragon didn’t even flinch. In fact, he practically cooed at the display. “Aw, now isn’t that sweet. Trying to intimidate me? You’re so adorable.” Then he frowned. “But … you’re not actually trying to intimidate me, are you? You’re whiter than the captain, and that’s saying something.” He sighed. “And here I was, hoping for something with a spin.” He rolled his eyes. “All right, soldier, what kind of training did they put you through?”
Matthew was quieter during the creature’s lecture, … rant, … rambling? He struggled to somehow stir the desert that was rapidly spreading into his throat. It took a few swallows, but he finally managed to get enough moisture to speak. “W-where am I?” he croaked. Another swallow and his voice came far more clearly. “Why am I tied down? Why are you a dragon? Dragons don’t even exist! Am I hallucinating? I mean, you can’t be real, but you’re here, so you are real, but you can't be….” A door burst open, and the heavy clop of … was that hooves? … echoed in his ears. He could barely make out the glint of burnished golden blots, but he could tell a few things. First, they barely came up to his bed’s height. Secondly, they produced a strange sound followed by a colorful light that clashed with the gold.
The Dragon rolled his eyes. “Too late, you two. What if this creature could have spit acid? Or had a breath weapon, like me?” He snorted in disgust. “And they said you were the best guards your unit had to offer. You may want to call the doctor.” He paused and stared expectantly at the blobs. They stared back. Or at least Matthew assumed they did, since they didn’t seem to move anywhere. Finally, the Dragon facepalmed and spoke in a series of snorts, grunts, and whinnies. With every sound, the beeping of the heart monitor next to the bed spiked higher. A few moments later, the equines, for that surely had to be what they were after the evidence he’d just heard, turned and clopped out of the room.
Matthew gaped after them. “What the...?”
“You don’t know Equish?” The creature laughed. “You really must be far off, indeed. Any one being sent anywhere near our outposts usually picks up at least a few phrases of the language.” His lips curved, but this time, he didn’t bare his teeth. “Don’t worry. I just sent a summons for the doctors.” He tilted his head. “I do have a question from the Captain of the Royal Guards, however. Why do you have metal embedded in your heart? It doesn’t appear to be threatening your life, but such things are unheard of in these lands.”
Matthew sighed and looked up at the ceiling, “That … is a long story, one that I would like to say only once, so everyone can be on the same page.”
“Everypony,” the Dragon corrected. “The term is everypony here. Also, I regret to inform you that you may have to tell your story at least twice. Once to the Doctors and once to the Captain and me.”
Matthew looked back at the Dragon as a dreadful possibility dawned. “Am … I a Pony?” he asked.
The Dragon laughed. “No, no. You aren't. Just trying to help with local terms.”
Matthew rolled his eyes. “If you say so.” It seemed this creature wasn’t about to do him any harm. He could have done so in any number of ways by now. So … maybe he was here to help? Either that or this was the weirdest and most vivid dream he’d ever had in his life. “And if you don’t mind my asking, why am I tied up like this?”
“To keep you from trying to sneak out of the room after you wake. The guards think you could be some kind of spy or advance scout. It’s standard protocol, really, in cases like this.”
“Spy?” Matthew shook his head. “I’m neither James Bond nor a ninja. As for a scout, I’m not that either.” He sighed as his lips folded and wriggled vainly. Finally, he groaned in frustration. “Look. I hate to ask this, but would you at least be willing to let me touch my nose? I’m itching like crazy.”
The Dragon walked up and gently scratched the portion. “How’s this?”
Matthew’s heart rate rose again. “What are you doing?” he asked nervously.
“Accommodating the guest’s request.”
Matthew looked at the Dragon with closer scrutiny, “I’m a POW right now?”
The Dragon raised a scaly brow in confusion. “A what?”
“A prisoner of war,” he clarified.
“We are not at war, but we are holding you for now until we find out what is going on, what you know, and what you were doing before you crashed into our ruler’s garden.”
Matthew nodded slowly. “Make sure I’m not a threat and that no others of my kind come behind me?” He shrugged, or rather tried to. The restraints made that rather difficult. “It’d be what my government would do if anything alien showed up publicly on our lands, so I guess I can’t exactly blame you for these precautions. I’m guessing we’re in a hospital, so it’s obvious that you care for my health enough not to leave me in a dungeon or prison cell.”
The Dragon chuckled. “An intelligent creature, indeed. I suppose we’ll have to see what we can do about accelerating your meeting with our commanding officer.”
“As expected,” Matthew replied. “Um, do you think you could maybe give me back my glasses? It’s hard to see without them, and I don’t want to strain my eyes.” A few moments later, the familiar metal frames were laid over his ears, and he smiled. “Thank you.”
“Of course,” the Dragon responded. “So, do you need anything to drink? Speaking Draconic is very hard on the locals’ vocal chords. And I’m guessing all that screaming didn’t help much either.”
“I suppose it’s a good thing I’m not a local, then.” He chuckled. “This is the native language of my people.” As expected, the Dragon froze in surprise at the mention, which implied that English, or Draconic as they called it here, was a very difficult language to learn, let alone master. Better still, it implied a connection between himself and what he assumed to be one of the alpha predators of this land. Matthew couldn’t help but smirk at the reaction. “Still, some Water would be nice.”
The Dragon nodded as he passed a glass to the human and slowly tipped it. “I’ll make sure we get soldiers that know Dracnoic stationed around you, so you can communicate with the Medical Staff when I’m not here. You’re still an unknown, so don’t expect them to be friendly with you. But provided you’re civil with them, they won’t be averse to granting basic requests.”
Matthew smirked as the cup was pulled away. “And pick up on anything I may let slip. I can accept that. But they’ll have to answer my questions so I don’t make any earth-shattering mistakes. After all, as you’ve already pointed out, I’m the alien here. I’d be willing to answer any questions that they have for me as well. Fair deal?”
The Dragon chuckled. “Fair enough. Just be careful. I hear one of them is very good at tickle torture. And Pegasi are notorious pranksters.”
Taze groaned as he slowly came to. He was still in his costume, though his wrists and ankles felt like they’d been tied down. When he opened his eyes, he found himself in a small room. Not a cell, but clearly not meant for comfort. It was basically four stone walls, a table, and whatever he’d been sitting on when he woke up. Possibly a chair?
All his belongings lay on the table before him. His replica weapons, his ipod touch, the copy of Lord Brocktree he always carried in his pocket, a box of orange tic tacs, and a mars bar he kept for keeping his blood sugar at decent levels. Hypoglycemia wasn’t fun to deal with, after all.
He looked to his wrists and found no physical restraints of any kind, yet he could feel them when he tried to lift his arms.
“Hey! I don’t know who you think I am, but could you at least send somebody in to say what you want from me?” he shouted.
Several minutes later, the door opened with a rather loud bang, and Taze’s eyes widened as a somewhat familiar Alicorn entered the room trailed by an old scarred bat Pony missing an eye.
“Well, that was unexpected,” Taze commented.
“I supposed it would be,” the Alicorn said. Her words came out in a rather thick accent. “My name is Princess Luna Galaxia of Equestria. May I please have your name?”
“Peter Taze Klim,” he offered after a moment. “I go by Taze, preferably.”
“An unusual name,” Luna allowed. “I and my sister were more than a little surprised when you and your companions landed in her rose bush.”
“Companions?” Taze asked. “That’s weird. I was alone, last I remember. I left my home and things got all fuzzy.”
“And why were you leaving your home armed? I admit I doubt you could do much with these weapons, but it is still an unusual thing.” She levitated the katana and tapped it against the table a few times.
Seeing her levitate it, something clicked in Taze’s mind. Magic must be what was restraining him. Somehow, he’d ended up in Equestria? Well, some form of it, given the Thetral with clear signs of battle damage.
Now, the sane mind would tell the truth. A rational mind would realize a lie would result in a heap of trouble.
… Taze wasn’t thinking rationally.
“Well, you see, Princess, those are my dress weapons. I wear them around my village and to important ceremonies, so people can know what I do.”
“And what, pray tell, is that?”
He grinned. “Well, Princess, if you’d release my arms, I’ll be happy to tell some stories from my time as a monster hunter.”
A gentle breeze flowed through the room from a small window on the far side. Golden rays streamed through to flood the space with its light. The bed on which the creature had been placed was designed for Minotaurs. And while the creature was certainly smaller than most Minotaurs Celestia had encountered before, the bed was the only one that could hold its frame comfortably. A thin set of blankets draped over its recumbent form. The sword and belt lay on an otherwise empty weapons rack, awaiting their owner’s touch while the coat hung from a jutting stone peg that had been placed in the wall. A number of shields, skulls, and armor fragments decorated the space, along with some few decorative axes and war hammers.
A large basin connected to a faucet sat atop a tall, broad vanity complete with a mirror. A wardrobe stood against a corner of the room while a small pit fire burned incense to fill the air with its calming scent. A stone bookcase was filled with large heavy tomes divided into two sides, one half with golden text inscribed along their covers, the other filled instead with scrolls and other such items.
Shawn awoke suddenly with a gasp. He snapped upright and clutched at his chest. After a few breaths, he closed his eyes and tried to stabilize his breathing. As his breath calmed, he moved the hand from his chest to his forehead. “Ex Divinia etiam, what the hell was that?”
The voice that responded was somewhat slow and raspy at first, almost confused, but eventually settled into the lyrical accent that was Sweedish. “I’m afraid I can’t help you with that, stranger, but I hope you are feeling better.”
Shawn tensed as he heard the voice and snapped toward the source, only to find a tall white mare with a long spiral horn and flowing rainbow mane. He was completely thrown off as he finally looked around, taking in the entirety of the room. “I … think I am? Though I think I’m hallucinating at this moment.”
“That could happen for one in your condition, I suppose,” the talking mare conceded. “If you wish, I could arrange for you to visit with one of our physicians. I thought it prudent to have you comfortable first, however.” She just kept staring at him, her brow furrowed. Whether by confusion or concentration, he wasn’t sure.
“Where am I, at this moment?” Shawn asked as he looked around the chambers yet again.
The mare winced. “I apologize if the accommodations aren’t to your liking. Given your size, this was one of the few beds we had that would suit you. You’re in my home. We found you in my garden with two other strangers.” Her lips pulled back into a smile. An honest to goodness smile. On a horse. Or … pony. Or whatever she was.
Shawn shifted his legs off the bed, feeling the fabric and the frame with equal intent. While he had never experienced hallucinations before, he wasn’t too sure if he could actually feel them. Best guess was a no. “Oh.” He paused and blinked for a few seconds, then rubbed his eyes. Finally, he turned his attention back to the talking creature again. “This isn’t a hallucination, is it?”
The mare shook her head. “I’m afraid not. Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Celestia. May I ask for your name?”
“I, uh, am Shawn,” he replied, trying to give a small smile. “A pleasure to meet you.”
“The pleasure is mine. It’s not often that such an unusual delegation arrives on the castle grounds.” She chuckled. “You gave us quite a start.”
“Yeah, it’s … not often you wake up somewhere definitely not even close to home.” He rubbed at his head. “I’m, well, sorry if I somehow caused some alarm?”
“I’m more grateful that your reaction has proven reasonable. We had some concerns when we discovered the weapons on your persons.” She motioned toward the weapons rack. “You’ll find your possessions are untouched, other than our removing them to make you more comfortable while you recovered.”
“My…” Shawn seemed puzzled for a moment until he saw what he was wearing, including the lack of coat and … sword at his hip. “Right. That ... that’s fair. Thank you.”
“Your kingdom must be unusual, given the garb your companions were wearing. That is, assuming they were your companions to begin with. We still haven’t been able to identify the magic that was responsible for your … unexpected arrival.”
“My companions?” Shawn hummed in thought and rubbed at his jaw. “I don’t remember anyone being with me. I think?”
Celestia nodded. “Then it would seem the power that brought you here must have seized the others from another location. Wherever they hail from, they must come from the same region where you reside. They appear to be the same species.”
“Well, if they’re like me, we kinda … cover the whole world.” He frowned.
Celestia frowned. “In that case, then you clearly don’t hail from this one.”
“I figured that much.” Shawn rubbed at his eyes. “We’re the only species that’s really sapient, so having been talked to by … someone who isn’t my species is quite … strange.”
“I can relate,” Celestia agreed. “Tell me, you wouldn’t happen to call yourselves … humans, by chance, would you?”
“We do. How did you know?” Shawn furrowed his brows in confusion.
“It took time for me to place after I had you brought here. It’s been a very long time. So long, I’d almost entirely forgotten. I can definitely say I’ve had encounters with your species before. Whether from your world, however….” She shook her head forcefully. “I find that unlikely.”
“I suppose that’s fair, though that only leads to more questions.” He sighed.
“We can approach those later. For now, it might be better if we took this time to get to know one another first. Your garb is clearly noble. Why don’t you tell me about your kingdom, and then I can tell you about mine?”
“Well, there’s not really much I could say about myself. My … outfit doesn't really reflect me too well at this moment.”
“Matthew Washinton Conner. Rank Cadet Sergeant Retired, current station Attache.” A quill scratched hastily away at parchment in the hospital room as the examination continued. He was currently wearing a pendant, the Dragon at the side watching while a tray of gems was rolled in on a trolley. “Is that why you were wearing such clothing?” the blue Unicorn asked, their cutie marks hidden by a large coat.
“Yes. It was also to win a bet.”
“A bet? That is, as you said, a military uniform,” the Unicorn responded.
“Retired uniform. The current armed forces wear a completely different outfit. Besides, the bet was if I could still fit into the uniform. Apparently, by the looks of things, I got a lot more involved.”
A knock on the door signalled the nurse’s arrival as she carried a small shot glass of a radioactive blue colored liquid.
“Ah, my rat poison,” Matthew said with a familiar sigh.
“Rat Poison?” The nurse snapped angrily. “This is a totally medically safe concoction…” She trailed off to see Matthew laugh and chuckle. “What’s so funny?”
“It’s humor from my world. You see, the drugs you recovered from my keychain are coumadin, or warfarin. In small quantities, it’s used to control the clotting factor for human blood. In larger doses, it’s used as rat poison because it can cause internal bleeding.”
The nurse saw the bowl of gems and looked to the two guards. “Who tried to feed him those? He may speak like a Dragon, but have you seen his teeth? I’d be surprised if they could break rock candy, let alone proper rocks.”
The Dragon chuckled. “A little military humor. Don’t worry, nurse. We’re going to let you feed him. We’ve taken down a list of foods he thinks he can eat, along with what foods interact poorly with him.”
The nurse took the proffered note from the blue Unicorn and paused. “Grapefruit? My patient can’t eat Grapefruit? What kind of creature is allergic to such a healthy snack?”
“Not allergic,” Matthew clarified. “It just reacts poorly with my meds.”
The nurse snorted. “In that case, based on this list, it’s clear you’re an omnivorous species. I’ll put you on a Kirin diet. I don’t know how readily we can acquire meat for you, but there are other sources of protein that we can supplement.” She frowned. “This may take some time to put together. I’ll be back later for your medicine cup.”
Matthew chuckled as the mare walked back out the door. “Well, at least the medical profession is the same.”
“Ahem, can we please get back on task?” The Unicorn pressed. “I still have plenty of questions for you.”
Matthew shrugged. “I guess, as long as they’re not about national secrets or the like.”
“That comes later,” The Unicorn replied, and Matthew was not sure if they were joking. The equine’s horn lit up with a musical hum, followed by a flashy poomf. And in that moment, the leather attaché case appeared. “Can you tell us who owns this of your companions?”
“That’s mine.” Matthew couldn’t help but smile at the familiar sight. “And did you say others? Who else came with me?” He tried to remember what happened after he exited the house, but everything came back in a haze. One thing he knew for certain was he hoped Riku wasn’t among them. That boy could make a hundred international incidents just from expressing his sheer dislike of all things Equestria and MLP.
“Right,” the Unicorn interrupted his musing. “Can you go over the items you have in the case?”
“Sure,” Matthew began, “I have some of my nations’ founding documents. A couple of theories of warfare from my world.”
“World? What makes you think that?”
“Because I we don’t have sentient Dragons, Ponies, and the like for sovereign nations or allies. All those things are just fairy tails where I come from.” He grinned as a few of the guards chuckled at his pun. “As for the rest, I don’t know what else to say.”
“Could you copy down the book if we gave you a writing pendant?” the Dragon asked. “I wouldn’t mind reading what your world has written.”
“Easy, Shark Claw,” the blue Unicorn chided. “But that doesn’t sound like all of them.”
“Well, a few of them are novels for fun reading if I get bored.”
“I can understand that.” The Unicorn nodded. He flicked an ear and looked over at the Dragon. “Yes? Can I help you?”
“Sorry, but with this human here… I just thought of the idea. We could prank Princess Celestia in retaliation for the Light Armor incident.”
The guards perked up at that. “Really? You think? But what were you thinking?”
“I really don’t think,” the Blue Unicorn began.
“Don’t forget Princess Celestia allowed the Blueblood Collolition to budget cut twenty years’ worth progress for us.”
“... When you put it that way…. I agree, but just for the day. She’ll see through this from the start, but she likes a little joke every once in a while, so I think I can get behind that.”
“Uh, … should I be concerned?” Matthew began.
“Oh no, we do this all the time. Usually, the Solar Princess gets us good with her pranks. It’s been a losing war for generations. With the return of the Lunar Princess, the military is starting to see an increase in pranks past Princess Celestia,” the Dragon answered. “As for you… All you have to do is play up the part, a military attaché from your nation. I think I can even get you the names of your companions from the Captain of the Guard if you cooperate.”
Matthew looked at the group. “Do I have a say on not in participating?”
“You can,” The Blue Unicorn answered. “But if you agree, we’d be much more free in giving you information that you’d need to fit in better. And we wouldn’t need to bring out any truth potions.”
“You’d do that?”
“You are technically a retired military cadet officer in a foreign land. Some of the older laws don’t look kindly on uninvited military folks.”
“But I didn’t come here by will, it was more like … a force out of my control.”
“That may be, but the law can be a little tough, depending on the mood of some of the noble houses. They could attempt to throw the book at you to twist you into their camp for political purposes.”
Matthew pursed his lips to a thin line. “If you put it that way, where do we start?”
“Honestly, I feel like something’s wrong,” Shawn commented as he adjusted the cuffs on his coat. “It’s not the coat, but I feel like something just isn’t right.”
“In a world that’s completely different from what you may or may not be used to, I’d say that’s a natural feeling to experience,” Celestia noted.
“I mean, there is that, but … I don’t know.” He glanced over his shoulder to an empty part of the room before turning back with a shudder. “I just ... can’t explain it.”
“Perhaps it will pass with time. It may be a lingering side effect of your journey here.”
Shawn sighed as he stopped fiddling with his cuffs. “Suus 'unnerving,” he muttered.
The princess raised a brow, but let the comment pass.
Shawn looked at the princess before rubbing the back of his neck. “Sorry. I don’t mean to keep changing languages when it’s already a miracle I can understand you, and you … understand me.”
“Though many call her cruel, fate can sometimes be very kind. I think the term is … don’t look a gift horse in the mouth?”
“I find it strange that you know that phrase, to be honest. Though, I don’t really know much about this world in the first place.” He frowned as he thought it over.
“As I said, I’ve had dealings with humans before. You can imagine how strange I found the phrase the first time I heard it.”
“Right.” He nodded, taking a seat on the bed. “Sorry, I’m just mostly feeling mentally scattered right now.”
“If you need more time to gather your thoughts, there’s no rush. While I would like to learn more about you, I want to make sure you’re well enough for that exchange to take place first.”
“That’s the thing. I won’t settle easily unless I move forward.” He looked to Celestia. “To break through the shock and figure out the things around me.”
“Do you feel strong enough to do so?”
“Though I am worried and frightened, I need to do it.”
“I meant physically. You essentially fell through a hole in the fabric between worlds. There’s no telling what that could do to your body.”
“Honestly, I feel quite fine physically.” Shawn looked to his hand, clenching it into a fist a few times. “Better than I would have expected, given the whole situation.”
Celestia nodded. “If you feel certain, then I am willing to be your guide. However, if anything should happen that could prove a danger to you, I hope you won’t mind my taking steps.
“That’s completely understandable.” He nodded.
“Very well, then. If you’ll follow me, Lord Shawn, we can begin your tour of my kingdom properly.” She smiled kindly and bowed low in greeting. “Welcome to Canterlot.”
“Oh, uh,” Shawn stood from the bed, placed his left arm over his chest and gave a small bow in return. “I appreciate the kind welcome.”
“Did you want to take your sword with you? If you prefer to leave it, I can vouch that it won’t be touched.”
“I suppose I’d like to keep it with me. It was my father’s, made by my uncle.”
“Of course.” The mare nodded and stood patiently as Shawn gathered up his sword. “Was there anything else you needed? If you’re hungry, I’ll be happy to take you by the kitchens for a snack.”
“I suppose I haven’t eaten anything since … yesterday, technically?” he replied, unsure of himself.
“In that case, I think we’ll definitely need to start there. Did you have any favorites? My chefs are quite versatile, though I’m afraid you won’t find much in the way of meat in my kitchens.”
“Whatever you would recommend? That I can digest, that is.” He shrugged in return.
Celestia nodded and pulled open the door with her magic, only to see a startled guard gazing back at her. He quickly regained his composure and bowed to the princess. “Your Highness, I’ve been sent to inform you that your sister has ordered a feast to be prepared for your special guests.”
Celestia sighed and rolled her eyes. “Oh, Luna….”
Shawn glanced between the two as they spoke, unable to understand their language.
Celestia turned to look back at her guest, then gasped as she switched over to the other dialect with visible effort. “My apologies. That guard was just informing me that my sister has already made arrangements for a proper meal. It appears that we won’t have to stop by the kitchens after all. My sister will bring them to us.” She smiled impishly. “That is, if she leaves any for us.”
“Then, I suppose we should hurry along.” He gave a smile in return.
“Excellent. And you can tell me about your home on the way.”
“Compared to this place? Nothing special in the slightest.”
The dining hall consisted of a broad space bedecked in glossy banners sporting a menagerie of coats of arms. The symbols of the two sisters were interspersed throughout to make their presence known with the crescent moon and a blue Alicorn on one banner and the golden sun with the pale Alicorn on the other. The table was laden with all manner of food: fruits that Taze was sure he’d never even heard of before, baked goods, sweets, moonpies ... lots of moonpies, and a large multi-layered cake topped with, much to Taze’s delight, raspberry cream icing.
For the next half hour after his initial arrival, the human mixed the literally unearthly delight of sampling such excellent cooking with meeting Ponies of different stations and titles, many of whom he accorded the respect they truly deserved by instantly forgetting about them after the fact.
“And so, there I was on a mountain top in the middle of a snowstorm. I was out of all forms of medical supplies, and my stamina was low. I knew it was either me or the beast,” Taze explained in careful tones, being sure to overemphasize details in what seemed like the best places. “I held my eager cleaver ready as I looked into the beast's cold eyes. I bent my knees as it roared, and I roared defiantly in turn. It charged, and I charged. We both knew it was the final waltz in the fabulous dance of death we’d found ourselves in. Just as the beast was about to overtake me, I stabbed forward and sent my blade into its mouth. The force of my strike ran through the back of its head. It collapsed moments later, having pushed me back significantly. The monster twitched and convulsed at my feet. I did the merciful thing and put the beast down.” He bowed his head as he finished his tale. “And that was how I killed the tigrex.”
“A great story and a fight worthy of glory!” Luna nodded. “Truly, you are a great hunter, friend Taze.”
It was at this moment that the double doors pulled open once again, and the two feasters were greeted with the fanfare of many trumpets as a guard strode forward and proclaimed in a loud voice, “Presenting Her Royal Highness Princess Celestia and guest.”
Celestia smiled kindly at the various heralds and attendants and bowed her head as she strode past them to enter the hall itself. A tall creature bearing a blue coat with golden embroidery walked beside her at an even pace. His boots released an earthy clunk to the princess’ ringing steps.
“Thank you, Alarum Bell. You can return to your post now,” she said by way of dismissal. The guard saluted and immediately retreated into the hall as the doors closed, leaving the two with only the barest escort as they strode toward the table with Celestia’s gentle prodding.
Taze gave Celestia a small bow and then smirked before giving Shawn a small respectful nod. “Ah, Lord Shawn. It seems you, too, ended up in this world.”
Shawn blinked a few times as he took in his friend. “Taze? But, … how...?”
“Something seems to have taken the two of us to this world from our own, along with one other, though I haven't found out who just yet,” Taze offered.
Shawn rubbed the side of his head. “But, it still doesn’t add up. The last time we saw each other in person was some time ago. Sure, we kept in contact, but how does it result in this?”
“All I remember is leaving home that night and waking up here.”
“Yours is at least better than mine.” Shawn hummed to himself. “I remember talking with you and Matthew, us separating for the night, and it all starts getting … fuzzy.” His frown deepened as he tried to recall the events that followed.
“Tell us of your realm, Lord Shawn,” Luna spoke up suddenly. “Taze’s stories have been delightfully entertaining. Truly, your world has fearsome beasts.”
Shawn blinked. “Uh, well, I suppose it does. Though, I don’t know what he may have told you already?”
“Just tales of his life as a monster hunter,” Luna said. “It is admirable your kingdom has such a system in place,” she said as she side-eyed Celestia.
“I suppose Lord Shawn’s family must have been among the craftsponies responsible for the weapons you hunters use. The sword he carries is dulled from use, but of a fine make. Tell me, did his uncle also craft your weapons, … Taze, was it?”
“Yes, Your Highness, that is my name,” Taze answered. “And no. Most of my weapons are crafted by regular blacksmiths, not by nobility. Although all my best weapons are sadly beyond my reach.”
“Curious. And are these weapons magical or merely well crafted?”
“More scientific,” Taze explained. “We use the parts of the animals we kill to imbue them with qualities based on what the animal is capable of. Self-igniting fluids, electric organs, liquid nitrogen. The smiths find ways to imbue the properties into all our gear.”
“Not unlike the art of imbuing a weapon with poison, then,” Celestia noted.
“I suppose that analogy is close, but not quite accurate?” Shawn seemed utterly confused. “Sorry, I don’t feel I’m keeping up with the conversation that well.”
“Well, you did say that you were hungry,” Celestia noted as she pulled out a chair with her magic. “Perhaps you’ll feel better with some food in your stomach. I’m more partial to cake, but the pies are delicious.”
“I'm not much for sweets, to be honest,” Shawn replied after a pause before muttering, “Ex Divinia Etiam …. Quia non facit sensu.”
Luna stiffened slightly and her eyes shifted to Shawn, then Celestia with a question in them. Celestia gave a soft shake of the head with the clear instruction in her returning gaze:
Later.
“If you prefer, we have a number of possible dishes that you can enjoy. We have salads, any number of cooked vegetables, and even some fish on hoof if you would prefer something,” she cleared her throat, “meatier.”
“I would appreciate that.” He rubbed his head.
“Which one?”
“The fish. Some proteins might help.”
“We’ll get on that immediately. Luna, if you would? Your voice always could reach farther than mine.”
Luna took a deep breath as Taze braced himself by immediately covering his ears. “BRING FORTH FISH!” The shout was loud enough to shake the room and cause the very stones to rumble.
Shawn placed his hands over his ears and grimaced as pain flooded in.
Celestia winced. “Luna, remember the magic word?”
“I remember several thousand magic words, sister.” Luna smirked.
Celestia sighed and shook her head. “I walked right into that one, didn’t I?”
“You kinda did.” Taze nodded, taking a pull from his goblet.
“That was unpleasant,” Shawn muttered with his hands still over his ears.
“Should have expected it,” Taze said quietly.
“It appears my sister already introduced you to our little trick,” Celestia noted. “You must have excited her a great deal after getting to know her.”
“I enjoy telling stories. Try anything long enough and you’ll get at least slightly capable in it,” Taze said with a small shrug.
“Indeed. Luna used to love sharing her exploits in days gone by. It would appear you two make an excellent pairing.” Celestia smiled as she levitated a sandwich crammed with what appeared to be a variety of flowers to her mouth, then took a bite.
“If you don’t mind me asking, I can't help but notice some tension around. Is that from us?” Taze asked.
“In part,” Celestia replied. “You did arrive in an … unusual manner, to say the least.”
“Considering the way you described it before was that we fell through a hole between the fabric of worlds, I’d believe it,” Shawn commented as he lowered his hands. “Though it honestly leaves more questions as to what led us there from our world. There’s not exactly a known case for potential holes in reality.”
“I mean, if there's magic here, perhaps there’s something that can affect reality?” Taze suggested.
“That is a possibility,” Luna acknowledged. “Not a common one, but still present.”
“There are a number of objects that exist in our world that could feasibly accomplish the task,” Celestia mused. “Though they are few and far between.”
Shawn sighed. “Too many unknown variables, it just makes it more complex. Doesn’t help that only half of us present actually understand magic. Besides mythology and all that, of course.” He frowned as he thought it over. “Maybe the third individual would remember more of what happened?”
“Perhaps,” Celestia allowed. “We have him under medical observation for now. He appears to be … different from most humans.”
“In what way?” Shawn asked.
“From what the captain of our guard has told us, there appears to be something unnatural inside his heart. We have him in protective custody for now until he can be interrogated.” She cleared her throat. “Excuse me. I suppose I should say interviewed. After hearing both of your stories, it’s logical to deduce that his will likely be the same.”
“His heart?” Shawn’s frown deepened. “If both Taze and I are here, and the third has an anomaly in his heart….” He looked to Taze. “You don’t think it’s Matthew, do you?”
“You’d be surprised how often astronomical happens in Equestria,” Celestia noted. “Especially on a Tuesday.”
“It was a Wednesday back home.” Taze shrugged.
“Perhaps after Lord Shawn has eaten, we can visit our third guest,” Celestia suggested. “If the three of you know each other, perhaps we can find a common link to the magic that brought you here in the first place.”
“That sounds like a plan,” Shawn agreed.
The Pony that stood before Matthew wore purple armor with gold accents. A shield stood over his chest as a form of peytral in purple with a lighter pink star. His mane and tail were a dark blue with lighter blue highlights that stood out against his pristine white fur coat. Captain Shining Armor, as he had come to identify himself, gazed calmly at the human on the bed. “All right. Your story seems to check out with our intel from the other prisoners.” Strangely enough, the Pony spoke in one of the poshest British accents Matthew had ever heard in his life. The Dragon sounded perfectly normal when he spoke, but maybe this was just something from the show? He was supposed to be the head of Princess Celestia’s guard, after all. “We’ll be returning your personal effects to you presently. Then after that, the princesses would like to have a word with you.”
“Of course. After all, I am an attaché. However, I doubt your little prank will work.”
Shining Armor sighed. “It’s not my prank to begin with. Believe you me, I would have come up with something far more devious if I were involved, and Celestia probably still would have seen through it. Let’s just drop it and move forward with the actual introductions. I’d rather you not accidentally start an international incident by giving the princesses the wrong impression.”
Matthew swallowed heavily. “Agreed. I may be one of only three of my kind here. And as your medical tests show, I’m kind of reliant on staying near good medical facilities.”
The Unicorn shook his head. “The very idea of cutting into a person like that….” He allowed himself a brief shudder, then let it drop. “If you’d come here when the problem first began, we might have been able to help. But after all you’ve been through, it’s out of our hooves now.” He sighed. “We’ll see about at least providing you with a draught to help maintain the current state of your blood.”
“Well, my keys carry three days’ doses of my medication in them, just in case. So, if you’d like, you can take a pill and reverse engineer it.” He frowned. “I can talk to your doctors about INR and the like, so we can keep things in check. And as for your comment about cutting into folks? Two generations ago, my people couldn’t perform any operations on the heart. But since we don’t have much in the way of magic where we come from, we’ve had to develop other means to treat medical conditions. The procedure that lets me live is one that is performed on people far younger than I am, and they have even higher survival rates than I did when I had the procedure done.” One of the Ponies’ faces quite literally turned green in real time as his cheeks bulged. Matthew cocked his head in confusion at the sight of the reaction. “It was either this or death. I’m just grateful that my nation has the tech to keep me alive and maintain the level of lifestyle I have.”
“We’ll give one of our alchemists the chance to analyze the medicine, but the odds of producing a replica in three days’ time is virtually impossible,” Shining said. “For now, we’ll use more natural means to achieve the same results.”
It didn’t take long for the double doors to swing open, revealing the royal sisters and their two distinguished guests. There was no fanfare involved, but the private suite bedecked in the royal colors and coats of arms belonging to the sisters indicated its importance readily enough even before the party arrived. Shining Armor saluted, then bowed low to the sisters as they approached. “Your Highnesses,” he greeted.
“Thank you, Captain, for all that you’ve done for us. Your service is commendable and, as always, exemplary,” Celestia said with a motherly smile.
“Vulpix!” Taze said, moving to his friend.
“Pix!” Matthew replied with a goofy grin. The looks of confusion from the non-humans in the room made him chuckle. “Forgive me. A Vulpix is a fictitious creature from our world. I use it as a second name when talking with close friends.”
“You okay?” Taze asked.
“Yeah, kind of throws folks wild when they see that on an X-Ray.” He motioned to the image hanging near his bed, where the artificial valves that allowed him to live were on prominent display, alongside a looping of wire near the sternum. “They tried to use some cool tech that reminds me of the 50s, but I was tripping alarms because human heart rates and blood pressure are totally different beasts.”
The Dragon looked to the other humans. “Is he normal?” he asked. “What I mean to ask is, is his condition normal? Most stallions and foals hate hospitals, yet he treats it like a second home.”
“He spent a lot of his life in the hospital,” Taze said. “It’s become comforting to him.”
The Dragon looked to the Princesses. “Your Highnesses, as best the doctors can tell, this … human can be released, but they’d like to provide a Doctor or Nurse on call for him at all times, given the nature of his condition. Due to easy bruising, I personally recommend assigning a guard for his protection to prevent any roughhousing against him. Some of our greetings and movements may not be advantageous to their anatomy.”
“I’m not an invalid,” Matthew snapped. “Hell, before I got part cyborg, I did two years of ROTC. I don’t need a babysitter.” He groused and folded his arms over his chest, looking not unlike a pouting child.
“You also did five stints in rib cage warfare,” Taze said. “You're better off having someone around who knows who to contact if things go wrong.”
“Four. I hope to God, never five,” he answered with a laugh. “But if you think it’s best, I’ll accept it.”
One of the guards balked at Matthew and unleashed a series of startled neighs and nickers. The Dragon dutifully translated. “He says, ‘How can you joke about your own heart like that?’” He sighed and rolled his eyes. “Ponies.”
“We’re naturally drawn to dark humor as a species,” Shawn commented.
“Our culture has come to the conclusion that comedy is, by its own nature, offensive,” Taze added. “Our species doesn’t have the best history.”
Princess Luna looked to Taze. “A scholar and a hunter? You surely are well rounded, indeed.”
“Hunting requires a sharp mind,” Taze replied. “You must think faster than your prey, or else you’ll be the one being eaten.”
“Very true. Yet few Hunters venture out of their expertise of hunting guides and materials. You surely shall reach old age.”
“As long as you remember that we are all biased,” Matthew snipped back with a chuckle. “A compass path is worthless without more than one dot.”
“Why do I get the feeling that you two are about to enter into an old debate?” Celestia asked.
“Get him started, and it won’t end.” Taze chuckled. “I’m glad he’s okay, though.” Taze gave Matthew a light pat on the head.
“Speaking of all right, Your Highness,” Shining said in the sputtering nickering language of the Equestrians, “I’d like to request permission to check on Cadance.”
Celestia smiled kindly. “Of course, Captain Armor. Luna and I can see to our guests, now that we’ve ascertained they won’t be a threat.”
Shining Armor bowed. “Thank you.”
“Just don’t forget to send that invitation to Twilight. You did make sure to send it, didn’t you?”
Shining Armor chuckled. “Of course. I sent it last week. You don’t think I was going to let my little sister miss one of the biggest moments in my life, did you?”
Celestia chuckled and nodded. “I’ll make sure to coordinate with her then. In the meantime, you have a special somepony to attend to.”
With that final dismissal, Shining offered a salute and trotted out of the room.
Taze cleared his throat. “I don’t suppose I could get my weapons back?” he asked. “They’re not really battle capable, but they are mine, and I’d like them returned if possible.”
“Assuming that Lord Shawn can vouch for you, I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to return the weapons. You did say they weren’t really suited for combat, right, Luna?”
“Correct, sister. They are purely meant for show.” Luna nodded.
“Then let us return them, by all means. Where are they being held currently?” Celestia asked.
“I had them moved to the forges to have them looked at.”
“Then I suppose we’ll have to travel there next, once we’ve finished making more suitable arrangements for our guests’ living quarters,” Celestia said, then turned toward the humans. “I assume you three would prefer sharing a room?”
“As long as I have my own bed,” Matthew replied with a weak smile. “But it is up to the others if they want to share or not.”
“I mean, it’s just a place to sleep. Not like we’ll be spending a lot of time there.” Taze shrugged.
Celestia winced. “Unfortunately, you may have to spend a little longer there than you might think. For now, the castle will be open to you, but I’m afraid going anywhere beyond its walls will be too dangerous. Our subjects frighten easily when exposed to the unknown, and nerves are already high-strung enough with preparations for a royal wedding.”
“That’s fair.” Shawn nodded. “Honestly, it’s more freedom than I anticipated.”
“As a precaution for your safety, you will also need to be accompanied by a member of either of our guards at all times,” Celestia added.
“Does that include in our room itself and the bathroom, or will we be afforded some privacy?”
“Of course you’ll have privacy,” Luna said. “And I think a single member of my guard will be enough, Sister. Honestly, if they were dangerous, the Solar Guard would only hinder dealing with them.”
“Given the number that are currently on duty around the capital, I suppose it’s only right to have a member of your guard escorting them,” Celestia agreed. “We can have him or her meet us at our guests’ new quarters. Somehow, I doubt they would appreciate remaining in the Minotaur Ambassadorial Suite.”
“That sounds oddly painful,” Taze noted.
“And a little too big,” Matthew added as he imagined something the size of Iron Will or bigger.
“Didn’t seem that bad,” Shawn muttered, rubbing the back of his head.
A moment later, Matthew began to chuckle at the situation.
Celestia eyed Matthew warily, then turned her gaze on her sister. “It may take some time for the suite’s preparations to be complete, but we should have everything ready by nightfall. If you gentle—” She frowned. “Just what do I call you, anyway? We use the term gentlecolt, but I don’t believe that applies to non-equines.”
“Gentlemen is the one for us,” Shawn replied. “Either way works, as we can infer the meaning.”
Celestia smiled. “Thank you. In that case, gentlemen, if you would follow me, I’ll show you to your new quarters.”
Extended Holiday Chapter 003: A Word and a Warning
The new quarters the humans were given was a large suite with a dome-like wicker structure that provided a more wild and rustic feeling to its ceiling. Four beams met in the middle around a metal chimney that shot down to a stone fire pit. Three made-to-order bedframes and mattresses had been hastily delivered and set up surrounding the pit in a circle to serve as both chairs and beds for the guests. A large en-suite bathroom adjoined the room. The wicker-structure obscured a series of rafters with the simulation of tree limbs, giving a more outdoorsy feel to grant the impression of a campsite.
“I hope you’ll forgive us for the lack of extra furnishing,” Celestia said. “Given the tales you told us, we hoped to achieve a balance between what would remind the three of you best of your homes.” She motioned to the ceiling. “The outdoors for the hunter.” She motioned toward the fire. “The warmth of a forge to our noble visitor.” She smiled. “And I suppose one might say the absolute order of the space would remind you of your … what did you call your military training again, ROTC days?” she asked of Matthew.
“That is correct, short for Reserve Officer Trainer Corp. Though a little chaos is unavoidable, so a little order is always welcome.”
“Luna should be arriving any moment now with your personal escort. You can rest assured that you’ll be in the very best hooves.”
“Matthew smiled and tilted his head in acknowledgement. “Thank you for your help, and for guiding us through the hallways. It felt like a maze getting here.”
Celestia couldn’t help but laugh. “To tell you the truth, I never much liked castles, myself, but it seems that subjects always insist on it. Luna and I did our very best to make our last castle as interesting and fun as possible. You wouldn’t believe the antics we got up to. It drove our chamberlains mad.”
“Is there any way we can work on the written language barrier?” Taze asked. “I’d enjoy being able to read a few books while we’re waiting. Fantasy or history, possibly. Nothing you would deem dangerous, of course.”
“That would require time and energy to accomplish, but since it will likely take some time before we’re able to determine how you traversed the veil between the worlds, I don’t see why we can’t attempt to accommodate your request. There are a number of our scholars who would doubtless love to learn your language.” She chuckled. “Were it not for the fact that she has other duties to attend to in the near future, I would recommend my student, Twilight Sparkle.”
“Princess, just to clarify, we do have a choice to who we will and won’t see? I hate to cast aspersions on your people, but if your nobility is even half as intrigue-ridden as the nobility were in our own world, I would like to know we have your backing to turn away anyone with … ulterior motives?”
Matthew frowned. “What about language? Will we have to use hand signals?”
“I’m working off the assumption that our selection of guard would be capable of speaking ‘draconic,’” Shawn commented. “Given they’ve clearly thought things through.”
“Until a better means of translation can be implemented, I’m afraid that’s exactly how things will have to be,” Celestia said. “Any input you can give us will help to hasten the process for reading comprehension. As for speaking, if you give us a day or two, we should be able to come up with something to help you understand us until you can learn to speak Equish on your own.”
“We have samples of our written word,” Taze offered, retrieving Lord Brocktree from his pocket. “This is a work of fantasy by a favorite author of mine, though. I’d ask you to be careful with it. It’s one of my favorite stories.”
Celestia smiled kindly. “You needn’t part with it, Master Huntsman. If you’ll give me just a moment.” Her horn glowed as she levitated the book into the air. Then she concentrated her power. Her horn glowed brighter at its tip until it shone with a bright white light. Suddenly, a line of golden light stretched from the book to the side. An exact replica of the book’s cover appeared. Then the original’s pages fluttered open and surged out replica after replica of pages to fly directly into the waiting binding until the new copy was completely filled. Then the two lowered again. The first flew back to its owner while the second levitated to Celestia’s waiting wing. “And just like that, we’re done.”
Matthew looked to the Princess. “I assume you copied all the papers and books that were inside my Attache?” he asked as he held it close to him.
“Out of respect for you, Matthew, we chose to leave your documents alone until such time as we could obtain your permission. You were forthright with us in all ways. It seemed only right to retain that same sense of trust.”
Matthew looked rather surprised at the words. “Well, to be honest, I wasn’t expecting that, but yes, I can give you permission. However, as a warning, many of my documents I have with me were world-changing, from the oldest surviving theories on war and combat to my own nation’s founding documents by declaring independence to the documents codifying our nation’s rights.” He gave a shadow of a smile. “Be careful. In their day, those books on war were all very dangerous documents.”
“Your warning is duly noted.” Celestia nodded. “In that case, it would likely be best not to allow those to fall into the wrong hooves. If you are willing, I will allow one copy of each of these more dangerous books to be made for myself and my sister to read for ourselves after we learn to read your language.”
Luna arrived several minutes later, followed by several Thestrals in armor. “I have arrived,” she announced. “This bunch has been especially chosen to serve as your guard, should you be required to leave the room. Moon Shade!” Luna looked behind her.
A steel-gray mare wearing the blue armor of the rest approached. Her mane and tail were a sandy color, and she had large slitted red eyes. “Hello, humans.” Her English came out in a thick Welsh lilt. “I will be your personal guard, and will be staying with you in this room,” she said, giving each a small bow of the head.
Matthew was a little shocked and looked to the others. “Uh, … but, … she’s … well, she’s a she,” he stammered.
“Given their society doesn’t wear clothing normally, this probably isn’t a big deal,” Taze pointed out. “I have no issues.”
Shawn simply gave a shrug.
Luna nodded. “Very well. I will leave you to get acquainted with this group and your personal guard.” Luna turned to Celestia. “Come, Sister. We still have much to do.”
“Indeed,” Celestia agreed. “The weight of a crown is a heavy thing to bear.” She smiled lovingly at Luna. “I’m just glad I don’t have to carry it alone anymore.” She nodded to their guests. “Until our next meeting, friends. If you’ve a need to go anywhere, you need only ask your escort.” She turned to go, then paused. “Oh, and one more thing. I would prepare to receive guests if I were you. It is a noble custom, as I am sure you must be well aware, Lord Shawn. Certain of the nobility will likely come to seek you out for the sake of establishing good will, among the other more devious intentions your friend Taze mentioned earlier. I trust you to be able to discern which is which.”
“Joy,” Shawn commented. “I appreciate the warning.”
“I am nothing, if not fair.” Celestia smirked. “Besides, it’s more fun when the nobles don't have the element of surprise.” She trotted to Luna and nodded. “Have you any parting words for our guests as well, Sister?”
“No, Sister.” Luna shook her head.
Celestia nodded. “Then until we meet again, gentlemen. We look forward to it.”
Matthew watched the two sisters take his case away before glancing at the guard. “Do you promise to never say anything about what goes on in here?”
“We’ll keep your secrets as long as they don’t endanger others or Equestria as a whole,” she said. “My loyalty is to my princess first and foremost.”
Matthew nodded. “It would be the same for me if the roles were reversed.” He looked to Shawn and Taze. He opened his mouth but stopped, and looked again at Moon Shade, “Clever,” he muttered. Then he spoke up again. “So, … what physics-defying thing can you do? I’ve seen a Dragon eating gems of such quality they’d be on display in a museum back home, and I was given five of them from a bowl that held over twenty such stones. And the Dragon was eating them! Then the Unicorns can do things with the fabric of physics that we’ve only seen in stories of myth, like controlling objects, apparently with their minds. And the Pegasi—”
Taze clapped a hand firmly on either one of Matthew's shoulders. “Breathe!” he ordered sternly.
Matthew winced as he followed the command. At first, his breaths came short and quickly, almost like he was hyperventilating. Then it gradually began to level out and calm.
“Is he all right?” Moon Shade asked.
“Nerves,” Taze explained.
Matthew’s voice shook slightly. “My entire world is upside down. Fantasy is real, reality is fiction. Everything I thought I knew about the world is gone in an instant, and I’ve been holding that in since up.” He paused. “Sorry, waking up,” he amended.
“Well, to answer your question, fly, I suppose?” Moon Shade said in a slightly confused tone.
“Can I see your wingspan?” he asked. “Because based on where I come from, the surface area of said wing should be proportional to the ability to lift.”
She spread her leathery wings out fully for him to see. “No touching, human.”
“I would never touch. They look like a bat’s wing, and you never touch a bat’s wing where I come from unless you’re a trained vet.” He paused again. “Doctor? Physician? Healer? Which should I say to avoid offense?” He shook his head and frowned after glancing over the wing in proportion to her body. “Yeah, that wingspan is too small, scientifically speaking.”
“There are many things even in our world that are deemed scientifically impossible in terms of their capabilities. Yet they still work,” Shawn commented with a raised brow. “In a world of magic, it’s harder to question how things work scientifically when we have no idea how their laws of magic work.”
Matthew looked to Shawn. “And with how the Scientific method works back home. Asking how magic works would depend on who we ask, from the normal man on the street to whatever this world has for an astrophysicist.”
“Yes, but you’re asking how things work without the understanding of what it even is. It almost feels like the idea of figuring out the needed force to escape the atmosphere when you don’t understand gravity.”
“That is true, and it hurts my brain to keep thinking about that.” He quickly turned his attention back to Moonshade. “Uh, forgive the whiplash, but why no touching? Is it a cultural thing? I’d rather not start a war by accident. Or worse, a courtship ritual.”
“The wings of Thestrals and pegasi are very sensitive. You only let trusted individuals or close family touch them directly.”
Matthew nodded. “Thank you. In that case, since part of this … arrangement is to gain a better understanding of your people’s culture, could I ask you questions about how things work in your society? I’d be willing to answer your questions in turn, if you’re looking for an equivalent exchange.”
“You may ask. I reserve the right to choose my answers, however,” Moonshade responded.
“As to be expected. And I will reserve the right to choose my answers to your questions,” Matthew returned. The two continued to carry on their conversation while the small unit of guards were deployed by Moonshade to their various posts. Matthew continued to speak with her, leaving the two other humans to their own devices.
Shawn sighed as he turned his attention toward the room once more before moving to the windows. The view to the right revealed a crystal-clear waterfall that cascaded in a multitude of veils that sparkled in the sunlight. Lush green grass grew in every direction, and even the far hills and mountains in the distance seemed to be covered in varying shades and hues of green with the occasional smattering of stony gray. A barely perceptible shimmer flashed over the panes of the glass. And as he pulled the window open, a gentle breeze blew the sounds of the city through the room. Clopping hooves, the occasional shout for wares, the beration of a drill sergeant. A river wound its way from the mountain toward an unseen ocean. Shawn was able to see what might be the image of a rail line running along the river bank towards the horizon. But without an engine to indicate, it was hard to say for sure. Then again, this was Equestria. And if it was anything like the show they had watched before, then it probably was a genuine railroad.
“Better view than I expected,” he muttered.
“Been quite the day, huh?” Taze asked as he joined his friend.
“Considering we’re not exactly home anymore, yeah. I’d say it’s been quite the day.”
Taze took out his ipod and carefully typed out a message on it before handing it to Shawn. Don’t suppose you recognised anything that could tell us when in the series we are?
Shawn hummed it over before typing out his response. Not a clue.
This is crazy. I mean, there are too many stories about this kind of thing.
Shawn gave a shrug. After a few seconds, he looked off to one of the corners of the room before frowning and turning back. “Still doesn’t feel right.”
“What doesn’t?” Taze asked.
“All of this.” Shawn gave a brief gesture around them. “I know it’s happening, I can feel everything, and I think I am of sane mind, but I keep getting this feeling like I don’t know the full picture. Whatever it is, it’s really getting to me.”
“You notice everyone’s on edge?” Taze asked.
“Hard not to.”
“I think we arrived just after some kind of threat,” Taze said in a very low tone.
“It’d make sense, given everything.” Shawn frowned. “We’ve got something else to discuss later, by the way.”
“I panicked,” Taze responded apologetically. “Hell, I thought this place was some kind of weird dream at first.”
“Things are going to be way more complicated if we don’t correct things, but I don’t know how that’ll turn out in the first place.”
“We need to play along for now and find out what's happening first.”
Shawn sighed and rubbed at his forehead. “This is going to be a mess.”
Celestia’s personal chambers were grandiose to the point of practically being gaudy. Bright scarlet banners streamed from the rafters to give the impression of a lower ceiling. Fine golden threads woven through them gave the appearance of the flash of sunset. Lighter cloths intermingled with brighter pinks, greens, blues, and purples in remembrance of Celestia’s ethereal mane. A great woven carpet sat in the middle of the moon with the princess’ cutie mark blazing brightly. A portion was covered by a large circular bed. A gilded headboard curved overhead with gold bars protruding to represent the rays of the sun radiating from the princess. A golden disc at its base formed a halo that would frame her head perfectly as she slept. A number of wardrobes, side tables, and bookshelves decorated the elegant space, offset by a number of banners and tapestries portraying herself, and in one case, a very old tapestry portraying two alicorns flying in a circle with their respective elements beneath them in the shape of yin and yang. A set of doors were inserted on opposing walls, leading to a master bathroom and study respectively.
Celestia sighed as she levitated a series of pillows to form a divan of sorts and took her seat. She gestured to a pile she created opposite her and casually flipped her horn to send a golden ray at the ceiling. A rune sparked to life, and the whole chamber was suddenly encased in that golden glow. “All right, Luna. It’s safe to talk now.”
“So, we know they're lying, right?” Luna asked as she took her own seat.
“Oh, absolutely,” Celestia agreed. “When did you figure it out?”
“The one called Taze is a great storyteller, but even I can tell his alien form is not made for such hard living.”
Celestia frowned. “Yes. Though our Lord Shawn is another matter entirely. Regardless, it is clear that they do know each other. The surprise when they met and the familiarity with which they spoke was impossible to feign. What I find more disturbing is the knowledge Lord Shawn carries. That language was spoken on the Earth I visited, but the odds of it remaining after all this time are slim, to say the least.”
“Did that phrase catch you as well?” Luna asked.
Celestia nodded gravely. “I thought that was what you might wish to discuss. In that world I visited, it was a phrase invoked often enough when speaking of the god they worshipped in those lands. Even then, it was only known to a select few who I interacted with, primarily nobility and clergy.”
“Yes, but did it not seem eerily familiar to you? Did it not speak of other memories?”
Celestia nodded. “I assume you’re referring to old ghosts?”
Luna nodded. “They seem harmless overall, and I fear Lord Shawn may be in need of my aid relatively soon, so I see no issue in playing to their story until we can confront them in a less scandalous time.”
Celestia couldn’t help but smirk. “And the fact we get to pull one over on the nobles makes it all the sweeter.”
Luna got up to leave the room, then paused for a moment and turned. “Sister, has Cadance been off to you? I encountered her speaking rather harshly to the cook.”
Celestia frowned. “That’s not usually like her. Perhaps she’s worried about Shining Armor?”
“Possibly,” she conceded. “But either way, I have forestalled sleep long enough.”
Shawn jolted upright from his bed, his hand clutching his chest as he took several calming breaths. “What the hell?” he commented softly.
Looking around the room revealed that it was still early into the night, and both Taze and Matthew were still asleep.
“You … okay, … hu … man?” A knock was heard at the door as clumsy English filtered through.
Shawn stood from his bed and made his way to the door. After taking another breath, he opened the portal and stepped out, closing it behind him.
Nearby stood an azure Thestral stallion in the familiar dark blue armor of the Night Guard. Rather than the spears he’d seen the gold armored Ponies bear, this one carried a curved glaive comfortably in one leg. He eyed Shawn warily with slitted silver eyes. However, though cautious, his stance betrayed no aggression.
“Sorry. They’re still asleep.” Shawn sighed. “Didn’t want to wake them. I’m fine, for the most part.”
“Somnia?” the stallion asked.
“Something like that. I don’t usually get much sleep in the first place, but I guess my nerves are getting to me.”
The stallion nodded. “It happens. You not go?”
“No, I just didn’t want to wake them up.” He leaned against the wall. “Not like I’ll be getting back to sleep, anyway.”
“Too much sleep night.” The stallion shrugged. “Ponies sleep. Miss stars.”
“The night has always been easier on the eyes. That, I can agree with.” He nodded.
“You people map stars?”
“All of them that we can.” Shawn smiled. “We made large telescopes in an attempt to get even slightly closer to them, if only visually.”
The stallion nodded. “Thestrals map stars since long before Questria,” he explained. “Stars tell lots. Farm, season, direction.”
“That they do. Though it’s a lot harder to see them where I’m from. Light pollution makes it harder.”
The Thestral thought on that for a few minutes before nodding. “No like station in city. Stars tough to see. Need fly high. Home, stars everywhere.” He waved a hoof to emphasize a large expanse. “But Thestral need protect moon. Gold Pony no good.”
“I mean, if they’re wearing actual gold, you’ve already got them beat.” Shawn gave a brief chuckle.
“They wear fancy armor, hold spear, and when something come, fall over.” He mimed tripping. “Panic.” He made a fearful face. “Run.” He shook his head. “Thestral strong. Thestral fight!” He twirled his glaive with a surprising amount of skill to prove his point.
“I can see that,” Shawn noted, leaning away slightly.
The stallion looked around carefully before leaning in. “Careful. Threat on palace. Eye on six.”
Shawn blinked a few times as he registered what he was told before giving a nod in return.
The stallion tapped his muzzle as he leaned away, a strange iteration of tapping one's nose to infer a secret.
Shawn gave a small smile. “We’ve got to get this language barrier dealt with at some point.” He hummed, placing a hand on his chin. “Maybe you guys could try teaching me a few words. Doesn’t seem like I’ll be getting much sleep, anyway.”
The guard considered his words before nodding. “Crescent,” he said, banging his chest plate lightly. Then he made a small negh-like sound.
Shawn blinked a few times, “Oh, this is going to be a lot harder than I anticipated….”
Shawn sighed as he looked outside the window of their room. It had been some time since the sun had arisen. And considering the activity he could hear, everyone in the castle was a morning person.
Looking over to the others, however, revealed that not everyone was.
Frowning to himself, he walked over to each of their beds and knocked the frames with his booted foot. “All right, guys. Everyone’s up, so we should probably get moving.” A distinct lack of response greeted him, and he started to nudge the bed with more and more force. “Come on. If I’ve got to be up at this hour, then so do you two.”
Matthew blinked open his eyes at the creaking protest of his bedframe and the vibrations carrying through from Shawn’s well-targeted kicks. He looked up at the ceiling. “Morning?” he asked, sitting up with a frown. “I was expecting my alarm to wake me.” Then he stretched and rubbed his eyes. “Guess I won’t need to rely on that now. So, can I take the first bathroom shift?”
After a few more shakes, Taze let out a muffled growl before lashing out with a fist suddenly.
Shawn doubled over and held his stomach as his face tightened in a grimace.
Matthew blinked in shock at the action, practically stumbling out of his bed to try and check on his friend.
“Huh?” Taze looked up, blinking at Shawn. “Oh. OH!” His eyes widened suddenly as adrenaline surged through his body to dispel the rest of his sleep after realizing what he had just done. “Sorry. Sorry! I have a little brother. He can be a jerk sometimes.”
“Yeah….” Shawn sighed as he held his stomach. “I’ve got an older brother. I get the idea. I’ll just flip your bed next time.”
“If that wakes him up,” Matthew muttered. “Never tried that with my brother. We kept on using alarm clocks. It used to wake the whole house up, but my brother would still be sleeping.” He eyed the bathroom and stood up. “Anyway, since nobody else said anything, I’m just going to claim the first shower,” he said, then shuffled to the restroom.
“Not the first,” Shawn muttered with a small smirk. “In any case, I take it you’re awake enough now, Taze?”
“Yes.” Taze groaned. “I just hope they have decent coffee.”
“Princess Luna keeps a stash of some of the best coffee in Equestria,” Moonshade commented.
“Good,” Taze said.
Shawn sighed as he took a seat on his bed. “Hour until breakfast, from what I was told earlier, so we’ve got some time.”
“I hope they solve the reading problem soon. It’d be nice to read some new books while we wait,” Taze commented.
“I actually got to chat with the guard earlier and got a few things down. It turns out things run off a similar formatting between the two. It’s literally just different characters,” Shawn remarked. “I only have so much committed to memory at the moment, and I hoped to ask for some writing supplies to make a sheet to practice off of.”
“Even if I could get a hold of the alphabet, it could be a start,” Taze said, nodding.
“I’ll try writing out a sheet for you when I can, but I don’t know how long that will take. It’s already hard enough learning their language,” Shawn muttered.
“Well, I mean completely different vocal organs, different syntax, sound correlation. It makes sense,” Taze noted.
“Indeed.”
Matthew was surprised at the spread of the food in the dining room. “Uh…” He looked over to Moonshade. “Will this be a normal spread every day?” He could see Pancakes, what had to be some form of bacon and salads, hash browns, and eggs in all their many incarnations. And, of course, the obligatory pastries and sweets associated with the meal.
Celestia giggled. “Yes, Matthew, it will. Alicorns are not like humans. We have an exceptionally boosted metabolism. And even among Alicorns, my sister and I are exceptionally special cases.”
“You mean there's more than just you two?” Matthew balked. “But … if you two can raise the sun and moon, what do these other Alicorns do?”
“One other Alicorn, to be precise,” Celestia allowed. “She is someone very close to our hearts. Her family were dear friends to us in years past.” She smiled lovingly. “And it will be our honor to give her away in her parents’ stead in a week’s time.”
Taze had a plate laid high with waffles, pancakes, and all sorts of things covered in maple syrup, and was eating with a fervor. “Is that all? Just three of you?” he asked between bites.
“Yes.” Celestia nodded and smiled gently. “It’s been that way for as long as most anyone can remember. ”
Shawn frowned at the comment. “I suppose, given what I’ve learned of your longevity, it makes sense.”
“Indeed. It’s been … difficult at times, but we’ve managed,” Celestia said.
“How old is Equestria?” Taze asked. “From what we’ve seen, this city looks kinda new, going by the stone and whatnot.”
“My sister and I have ruled this kingdom for millennia, Huntsman Taze.”
Matthew paused in his own meal. “Th—” he started before having to pause. “The only thing I can think of that might match that longevity is the Roman Republic turned Empire, which then collapsed in on itself.” He blinked owlishly. “Then again, you said millennia. That means multiple time units of a thousand years. I … I don’t even think they made it past one.” He looked at his plate and lapsed into silent contemplation.
“For our subjects, it’s simply a fact. I suppose it is easier to accept when generations have watched us as we watch over them.”
“I suppose it would cement your rule, since you would be able to rule over a course of lifetimes to the average subject.” Shawn hummed in thought.
“It certainly helps. That, and the fact that we actually control the course of the sun and moon. That does tend to give us a certain advantage, though it’s one that we never use against our subjects.” A hint of a frown crossed her countenance at those words, but she quickly dispelled it as she returned her attention to the humans. “Lord Shawn, I nearly forgot to mention this, but if you have the time after our meal, there is someone I would like to introduce you to.”
Shawn blinked a few times. “Well, I suppose I don’t really have anything other than free time, so that sounds like a plan.”
“Excellent.” And with that said, Celestia raised a sizable piece of cake to her mouth and ate heartily.
The chamber Celestia led Shawn to was reasonably sized. A small round table sat at its center, marked by a star design circled by smaller stars crafted from mother of pearl that chained to form a decorative rim. A small chest rested easily on top of it, and a white unicorn with a carefully styled blue mane stood behind it. This one wore a stylish black suit with a purple bowtie and a fancy golden monocle. Another unicorn stood by his side, this one bearing a pink mane with white streaks. Her purple eyes were shimmering pools that drew the eye toward her effeminate features.
“Lord Shawn, allow me to introduce you to Lord Fancy Pants and his wife, Fleur de Lis. Given your unique status as a new point of contact with another kingdom, he desired an audience to get to know you face to face,” Celestia explained as she motioned toward the stallion.
“A pleasure to meet you both.” Shawn gave a low nod.
“Mi amore extends his greatest greetings and best wishes to you, Lord Shawn,” the mare said in surprisingly fluid Draconic, though with a clearly present French accent.
“I appreciate the well wishes,” he replied with a nod. “To what do I owe the pleasure of this audience?”
Fancy Pants’ lips curved into a smile, a thing that Shawn was used to seeing in a cartoon, but most certainly not in real life on an equine. The stallion then proceeded to speak in that series of nickers, neighs, and whinnies that made up the Equestrian language before sliding the box forward and opening the lid with his magic to reveal a series of polished cut gems ranging from the size of a finger to the size of a fist. They cast a veritable corona of colors that thrummed and pulsed, casting a weak light onto the gilded edges of the container.
“My husband wishes to extend this gift in homage and respect to you,” Fluer translated.
Shawn blinked a few times in surprise. “I ... am thankful for this gift, but ... I don’t know if I could accept this.”
Fleur and Celestia both raised their brows at that comment. “Is there a reason why not?” Celestia asked.
Shawn looked at the two. “I feel there may be a difference between our worlds in terms of gemstones and the like. To clarify, they aren’t offensive or anything. In fact, they are … very expensive in our markets.” He rubbed the back of his head. “I feel idiotic for saying it now, but it just threw me off, because … to me and my people, this would constitute a large fortune.”
Fleur gave a ringing musical laugh. “It is of little consequence to my husband what the value of the gems might be worth to your home. He has lots of money and many finer stones in his collection. Please, do not let it bother you.”
“I ... truly appreciate it, then.” Shawn gave another low nod.
Fleur translated with a whinny and a few nickers, and her husband’s smile widened to display a row of perfectly white teeth that practically flashed with the quality of their appearance. He bowed his head and spoke again.
“He hopes this may be the beginning of good relations between your house and ours, as well as your nation and ours,” Fluer translated.
Shawn smiled before nodding. “This experience, even without the gems, has proven to be far more positive of an exchange than I had anticipated.”
“You have good instincts, then. My husband is sadly in the minority of the nobility. House Pants prides itself on kindness and generosity to others. Few houses still stick to such old ways.”
“Truly something great to strive for. It’s sadly the nature of those in similar positions to lean too far away from it. I am grateful to have met you two first.”
Fancy pants nodded and spoke again.
“My husband is grateful to have been able to meet you before your perspective might be poisoned. There will be more gifts offered, but those will, in many cases, come with tethers.”
“Thank you for the warning.”
“Should you need anything, you only need to ask us. We are easy to find. My husband serves as Celestia's high chancellor,” Fleur said with some pride. “The princess has excellent judgment in who to appoint to positions of power.” She gave Celestia a small bow, as did Fancy Pants before the two turned to leave.
Shawn’s facade wilted for a moment before he took a breath and turned to Celestia. “That was certainly better than I expected. Thank you.”
Celestia sighed. “I’m afraid I have to apologize. I should have foreseen the possibility of your reaction. I’d forgotten how much value humans placed on such common trinkets.”
“It’s a mix between common and not quite as common. Though diamonds are the exception, being very common and very expensive,” he said, muttering the second part in thought. “Either way, it was … very unexpected.”
“Our land is overly abundant with resources that your people would consider highly precious. Gold, copper, silver, iron, sapphires, emeralds, rubies, quartz, you name it. The only resource our people find rare is an exceptionally light-weight metal that is extremely scarce. Unlike most others, this one seems only to become stronger as it corrodes to prevent further corrosion.”
“What, like aluminum?” Shawn questioned.
“I’m afraid I am not familiar with that name,” Celestia said. “If you would like, I can show you a sample to appraise.”
Shawn hummed for a second. “I could probably do that. With what my uncle taught me, I have a good idea of them.”
“Then I’ll make the arrangements for you to view the metal later. There are a number of master craftsponies who work at the forge. I’ll arrange to introduce you to Storm Hammer. She’s an artist when it comes to the craft, and we always rely on her to deal with the more … elegant commissions in the nobility.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
The three humans found little privacy over the next several hours. Not only were they closely followed and watched by their assigned guards, but a delegation of physicians were waiting for them the moment they arrived back in their quarters, along with an apologetic Celestia.
“After the initial investigations with Matthew, these doctors insisted on giving a proper examination to the rest of you to ensure no damage was sustained after your … fall,” the princess said tactfully. “Given the fact that we never had the chance to do so for yourself and Taze, I took the liberty of bringing them here, Lord Shawn.”
“Makes sense.” Taze shrugged.
“Fair enough,” Shawn replied.
Matthew sighed resignedly. “How many are for me?” he asked.
“All of them wish to be, but two of them will have to focus on Sir Taze and Lord Shawn.” She smiled awkwardly. “They … drew lots to decide.”
Matthew rolled his eyes as he slowly took his shirt off. “Of course. Back home, I was one in maybe ten thousand with my condition. And one of the oldest living, too. I’ve got nothing better to do, so the others can listen to my heart before they go.” He gave a grim chuckle. “Doubt they’ll ever hear something like it again.” He approached the ponies calmly. “Okay, which one of you is the cardiologist?” He shook his head and sighed heavily as he muttered, “I really should have listened to my mother and got a tablet with my medical history on it.”
Celestia’s horn lit up, and the room was filled with a golden haze. “There. This will allow us to speak and understand one another properly for the time being. If you would, Heart Throb?”
A cherry-red Unicorn lit up her horn and nodded her thanks to the princess. “As my name might imply, I’m one of Equestria’s foremost heart specialists. If you would just take a seat on your bed, I’d like to begin with a proper scan of your heart and the scar tissue surrounding it.” She looked uneasily at the discolored ridges over his chest. “The reports from your previous assessment indicated that your race cut your chest open to reach your heart. How did they pass through the ribs and sternum? I assume your chest is structured similarly to that of a Minatour, and normally sustaining any injury of that sort would mean instant death.”
Matthew looked to Shawn and Taze. “You two might need to cover your ears,” he said apologetically. Then he turned back to Heart Throb. “First, you need to understand one thing. This is all the result of a lack of Magic. That, in turn, forced us to learn other means of healing the sick. In my case, the doctors took millennia worth of knowledge and followed a series of defined steps. First, they anesthetized me. Then they took a bone saw and—” What followed was a very graphic and detailed explanation on the procedure that had been performed to install the valves in his heart in the first place. One of the physicians nearly lost his lunch as his face quite literally turned green, including his fur.
“With that kind of response, you’d think they weren’t in the medical field,” Shawn remarked with a raised brow.
“It’s a rare thing for our nation to require exploratory surgery of any sort,” Celestia explained. “Most of our ills are resolved with potions or the application of spells. It’s only in the event that a Unicorn isn’t on staff or extreme cases that invasive procedures are required.”
“Still, what if you’re dealing with an issue that couldn’t be solved with magic?” Shawn asked. “I mean, it can’t be guaranteed that magic would always work, right?”
Heart Throb looked at Shawn in confusion. “I doubt our books ever mention that. For example, if not for the foreign metal in two of this human’s heart valves, a week in the proper magical environment under our procedures would have healed up everything, including the scars. But with such foreign items in such a key location, it would be too risky to even try and stimulate the heart to regrow what it’s lost.”
“No, I meant—” He sighed. “Nevermind. It’ll take much too long to actually get my point across.”
The doctors looked to one another, then nodded as they each reached out with their magic respectively to touch the trio of aliens. Heart Throb and the two others nodded as they broke the contact, having found their investigation satisfactory, then turned to their colleagues in confusion. The other two medical experts’ faces were furrowed at first. Then they flattened. And finally, their eyes became wide open with horror.
“What’s the matter, Golden Apple, Bone Splint?”
The two shuddered, then turned back to their fellow. “Switch!” they said simultaneously. The two quickly shifted to the other’s position to scan their patients again. This time, they began to tremble.
“How do you function?” Bone Splint sputtered in utter disbelief.
Golden Apple swallowed heavily. “They should be dead. No life should be sustainable without it. No one.” His eyes had shrunk to pinpricks, and he started rocking on his hooves.
“And what, exactly, are we missing?” Shawn spoke up.
Matthew shrugged. “Magic is my guess. I mean, they did all these kinds of scans while the soldiers watched, and I freaked everyone out. More so than my scars.” He chuckled.
Heart Throb’s eye twitched. “I wish you didn’t have such a morbid sense of humor.”
“Everything, and I mean everything, has magic in it. It’s literally what drives the life of the world. Without magic, our world would be a barren hunk of rock. If you were to somehow drain our magic, we would be left on the brink of death,” Golden Apple explained. “It was presumed the lack of magic in your friend would explain his bodily defect. But the fact that you two are also without a magical field leaves us with some startling ramifications.”
“It shatters every rule of life we’ve ever established,” Bone Splint said. “Imagine the papers we could write. A living, breathing, functional lifeform without even so much as a hint of magic. And they’re intelligent!” He winced and looked sheepishly at Shawn. “Erm, no offense.”
Shawn simply raised a brow at the comment.
“Magic in our world existed once, at least according to myths and legends from hundreds of years ago,” Taze said. “But in our current age, it’s generally only believed to be superstition.”
One of the doctors rubbed her chin. “Perhaps it’s the result of a form of biologic mutation or adaptation out of necessity?”
“I mean, we science the hell out of things.” Taze shrugged.
“You perform exorcisms with science?”
“Well, Sam and Dean Winchester do at times.” Taze chuckled.
“It’s a turn of phrase,” Matthew corrected as he facepalmed. “I don’t know where it came from, but … we’ve advanced our science to the point where we landed on our moon, traveled to ocean floors, and broken things down to the atomic level.”
“Atoms?” Bone Splint asked.
“The smallest form matter can be broken down to before it becomes energy,” Taze explained.
“I believe we can save discussions of such things for another time,” Celestia noted. “Are they healthy, doctors?”
“Their bodies are … functional,” Golden Apple said. “As for healthy, we’ll have to wait and see how they react to a magical environment, if what they say is true.”
“I am not healthy,” Matthew countered. “I survive. I have been healed to humanity’s best efforts, but I am not a model of health.”
“Debates aside, they appear to be functionally healthy,” Golden said as he eyed the patient. “Albeit somewhat snarky.”
“Sorry, there isn’t a cure for that one where we come from,” Taze remarked.
Celestia giggled. “In that case, I believe that we’re finished here. Thank you, doctors.” She nodded dismissively to the physicians. “If you could put a rush on those draughts for Matthew, you would have my gratitude.”
“O-of course, Your Highness,” Bone Splint said. Then Heart Throb shoved him back.
“We’ll begin immediately.” Then Golden Apple shoved Heart Throb.
“You’ll have it by morning.”
Celestia smiled. “Then you are dismissed.”
The party that left was more of a tangle of limbs and horns as the physicians each battled one another for a position at the head of their band in their rush to get to their labs and work on the potion.
Celestia continued to smile as she ended the spell. “For some reason, I always find it amusing when they scrabble for my favor like that. I don’t know whether to call that a failing or a virtue.”
“If you can’t enjoy the simple things, then what's the point?” Taze asked.
“Perhaps,” she allowed. “Regardless, now that we’ve finished your medical examinations, it’s simply a matter of making sure your friend has what he requires to ensure his heart continues to function. Was there anything else I might be able to do for you before we part ways? I’d like to make your stay as comfortable as possible.”
“Maybe some books for helping to read? My friend believes we may be able to teach ourselves with a little more reference material,” Taze noted.
“Is that so?” She looked to Taze. “Are our languages so very similar?”
“From what I’ve been able to figure out with Crescent, our languages are almost exactly the same written, in terms of order and such. It’s just a matter of it being different in terms of the written characters,” Shawn explained. “This isn’t going to be perfect, without a doubt, but it seems like it’ll work in a general way?”
“It’s an experiment that is certainly worth pursuing,” Celestia agreed. “I’ll make the necessary arrangements. “Was there any particular type of literature you would prefer?”
“History and fiction, if possible,” Taze said.
Celestia nodded. “We can do that. Our royal archives have plenty of material to draw from. I’ll arrange to have some delivered to you.”
Luna grinned as she stared at the spread of food that laid before her and her guests. Her royal guards also sat at the table, with the exception of those necessary to keep watch over her and said guests. The sun laid low over the horizon, casting the castle into twilight. This meal was more heavy with meats along the line of pork and venison. Bacon, sausage, filets, and more were cooked and produced in a variety of inventive ways to present a feast that any carnivore would love. The obligatory grains and vegetables were also present to grant a properly balanced diet.
“Well now. This looks great!” Taze commented, looking over the table.
Matthew was surprised at the spread, especially at the number of greens. There weren’t just lettuce and cucumbers. Wildflowers and other blossoms and herbs were also included, sprigs and all.
“Uh, do you guys have any pre-evening meal rituals?” Taze asked, not wanting to be rude.
Luna shook her head. “No. Do your people?”
Taze looked to Matthew. “Some of us do,” he admitted.
“Well, I usually pray over a meal before eating, giving thanks to our God for the bounty before us. I can pray silently, if that is acceptable?”
Luna nodded. “Of course. We will wait patiently.”
Matthew gave a nod of thanks and bowed his head, clasping his hands together. A few long seconds of silence later, he raised his head and nodded to the princess again. “Thank you, Your Highness.”
“Well then, please dig in, my friends,” Luna said as she began piling her plate.
Taze immediately hopped to it, stacking his own plate as well. Shawn looked to the two stacking their plates before simply gathering a portion for himself, and Matthew followed suit.
As Taze and Luna ate, their eyes met when they noticed the relatively even pace and portion size. An unspoken challenge passed between them. Quite suddenly, the two of them dug in deeper and more rapidly as they tore into their portions.
Matthew looked to Shawn. “Uh, … are you getting flashbacks to Sterling?” he asked between bites.
“This will end poorly,” Shawn remarked casually as he took another bite of his meal.
“But for which party?” Matthew added with a slight chuckle.
“Only Mother knows,” Celestia said suddenly from behind them, nearly causing Matthew to choke on his food. “My sister’s never lost before, though.”
Matthew stepped out of the bathroom and looked around. Only Moonshade was in the room, since Taze and Shawn had stepped out. He sat down, frowning as he tried to fight the headache. He covered his eyes with his arm to ward against the stabbing rays of sunlight.
“Is something wrong, human?” she asked.
“Headache, and the docs aren’t sure the pain meds would work the same way,” he groaned. “And why are you saying human? My name is Matthew Washington Conner. Citizen of Earth. How’d you feel if I just called you Thestral all the time?”
She gave a shrug. “I am what I am.”
Matthew turned to try and find some comfortable position to rest his head. “And what is that? Annoying?” he groused as another stab of pain bit into his skull. “Then anytime I hear you call me Human, I’ll just return the favor with Thestral.”
“Fair enough, human.” She smirked.
“Any advice, then, for beating this headache? Close a window? Darken the room? Something, please, Thestral. I cannot just be out of commission. Folks need me. My friends need me up and about.”
“You could always request a potion,” she said simply. “We have those, you know.”
“Side effects unknown. They’d rather not test it on me. Apparently, the blood thinning potion is risky enough as it is. Or so they say.”
“Then I'm not sure what to tell you, human. Darken the shades and wait it out.”
Matthew grumbled as he did as suggested, only to fumble ridiculously as he tried to figure out how the system worked. “A little help, Thestral?”
With a slight eye roll, she approached the shades and pulled a cord with her mouth, causing them to cover the window.
“Th-thank you,” Matthew muttered as he stumbled toward the bathroom. A minute or so later, he emerged again bearing a wet cloth soaked with cold water. Then he laid down and placed the cloth over his closed eyes. “Can you make sure I can get some sleep, please?”
“I’ll see to it that you remain undisturbed, Human,” she promised.
“Thank you,” Matthew grunted. And then he turned all his efforts to the elusive reward of oblivion that was sleep.
Matthew was on edge as he followed a lot more guards than normal into the depths of the Castle, past a multitude of checkpoints and flights of stairs. Eventually, they were led past a set of heavy metal doors engraved with a multitude of glyphs and sigils. Beyond the doors, an empty cavern awaited them, with only Clestia and Luna’s glowing magic to light the way. The floor was hard and well swept. The guards all stood watch at the doorway, but only Matthew, Shawn, and Taze crossed the threshold. At a subtle nod from the sisters, the doors slowly creaked shut, leaving the five alone in the chamber.
“All right,” Celestia started. “I’m certain you’re all wondering why my sister and I have led you all the way down here in the first place.”
“Something with magic and not wanting others to find out what is happening?” Matthew asked. “The rather big doors kind of gave that away.”
“They’re there more for the protection of everyone above,” Celestia said seriously. “No one has crossed through the veil between worlds in millennia. That particular method of travel was lost to Equestria a very, very long time ago. The fact you managed to do so could have some lingering effects that you’ve … chosen to forget. To that end, Luna and I are going to try to help you remember them to ensure your safety and ours.”
“Or rather, I will be, and my sister will be serving as support to make sure nothing happens while I do,” Luna commented. “Not that there should be trouble, but given the fact your race has no magic, we have no idea how you’ll react to dream walking.”
“Strange, but I suppose that’s understandable?” Shawn remarked questioningly.
“I concur. Safety is a good priority,” Matthew said.
“So, how is this going to work?” Taze asked.
“We’re going to put you to sleep. Then I will enter your dreamscape and see if I can find the memories within,” Luna said.
Shawn blinked a few times. “That ... sounds like a method. Not one I was anticipating, to be honest.”
“It’s the easiest way to sort through your memories without risking damage,” Celestia promised. “You all will live through that night again before you came to Equestria, and Luna will watch. Should anything go amiss, we’ll break the connection and draw you all back to the waking realm.” She waved her horn and the beds the trio had slept in were transported into the space. “Lie down, please. Then Luna will enter your minds.”
While the trio settled onto the beds, Luna strode into the center and closed her eyes. Her wings extended and began to flap as energy gathered around her. A bell-like tone sounded crystalline and pure from the tip of her horn as she rose into the air, followed by tendrils of white energy that curled up around the grooves of her horn before emerging from the tip and stretching out to reach for each of the humans’ foreheads. A translucent sphere of energy surrounded the mare as ethereal winds stirred and passed through the chamber. “Time to sleep now,” Luna said as a shower of silver dust spread from her wings to touch each of the humans in turn and send them into the land of slumber. Once Celestia confirmed they were truly asleep, Luna nodded and concentrated, sending her mind along the tendril that connected her horn to the first of the humans.
“Good luck, Sister,” Celestia said worriedly as she stood watch over the four.
Matthew found himself in the front seat of an SUV. He was dressed in his costume as he and Luna listened to a very loud voice of a friend talking about Goku beating up many other anime characters and eating the world’s supply of chocolate in the shape of the White House.
Matthew sighed from the conversation. Luna could see the face of a man who had listened to the same kind of loud conversation many, many times, and about topics that he was trying to follow.
“Don’t forget the whipped cream the size of the swimming pool in the White House,” a tall man added.
“That’s the press room now.” Matthew tried to speak, only to be drowned out by a man whose hair was more wolf than human, complete with beard and sideburns. “Why can’t we have it both ways? The President giving press briefings while swimming laps!” He gave a manic grin and laughed.
“Riku,” Matthew began.
“Anyway,” Riku spoke again, “what about Nappa? What Pokemon should he start with? Come on, Matthew, you should know this. You’re the Pokemon expert.”
“I don’t know who Nappa is. You know I don’t watch DBZ.”
“Oh man, you’re missing the best, come on—” What followed was an hour of rambling about Nappa, Dragon Ball Z, and other anime as they drove from the mountains to the city, whose lights and size dwarfed most anything outside of Manehattan. Matthew never did answer what Pokemon Nappa would pick as a starter. Instead, he sighed in relief as they turned into a neighborhood of houses, all of them the size of many Nobleman’s summer homes.
They pulled up to a dark house, with only a porch light on. Matthew opened the car door as his friends bid him farewell, and he grabbed his leather case and stepped onto the cement path. A furtive movement caught his eye, and he froze at the sight of a small-statured being at the side of the house. It raced toward an open gate in the backyard. There wasn’t time to think. “HEY!” Matthew shouted. The cloaked figure froze briefly, and he could swear he saw the hood on the cloak turn briefly before it raced into action. Matthew heard the car doors opening behind him as his friends called after him. There was no time to respond. He ran.
One. Two. Three. Four. Five times, his feet pounded on dry grass in the chill night air.
And then the world vanished as he tipped forward. He cried out, shoving his free hand forward to brace against the fall. He felt the sense of momentum carrying him beyond the plan of the ground. And as he was about to spin, everything went dark.
“And this was the last point you remember?” Luna asked as everything came to a halt.
Matthew lowered his arm as he felt himself gradually being righted before standing on … nothing. Luna’s power really was incredible. “Yes,” he answered. “That was the last thing I remember. That … what was a child doing around my house? It was Two A.M., way past any kid’s bedtime, let alone out so late without any adult supervision.” He frowned. “I hope they weren't a runaway.”
Luna shook her head. “I doubt it was a child. We have rare mentions about small creatures who appear and vanish randomly. Though most are thought to be simple myths.”
“A,” Matthew started, then broke off. He tried again. “Well this…” Once again, he found himself without a proper train of thought. A creature? But how or why would a being from a magical myth in a magical world even be on Earth in the first place?
“Are there any other details about this night you can recall?”
“Like what? It’s hard to think when half of your mental energy is trying to keep up with my friend’s topics and conversations.”
“Fair point.” Luna nodded. “You should awaken momentarily.”
“Thank you,” Matthew answered weakly. “At least my last memories weren’t of my family. That … would have made things more difficult,” he said. Even the sight of the house had been enough to spark his homesickness. He shuddered to think how much worse it would have been to see his family’s faces as everything faded to black.
Taze stretched his arms and cracked his neck as he walked down the road. Living slightly out of town had its advantages, especially on a night like this. And he intended to get some peace before he got to town and things got crazy.
The night was quiet and clear. Thousands of stars shone down from above as the wind brought the promise of cold Canadian winter on the horizon. Around him, birch and pine trees swayed in the breeze as the night drew on. The thought of cutting, hauling, and chopping wood came to the back of his mind and was shoved aside with a groan as he tried to focus on the evening instead. The town’s lights shone in the distance, still a good way to go.
A sudden rustling caught his attention, and he looked to the bushes thinking a coyote or something might have decided to get brave. Thankfully, he’d been born with relatively good night vision. Even in the dim light, he could see fairly well.
And yet, as he looked, only one question crossed his mind. Was that a humanoid shape? But what would someone else be doing this far out of town? And why would they be running through the bushes instead of on the road? A prankster pressured into targeting him, perhaps?
“Hey!” Taze called out. “Come on, kid. Whatever prank you're doing isn’t funny.” He ran toward the brush to try to head the figure off. The figure, in turn, reacted by turning and fleeing deeper into the brush. Taze picked up speed and broke through the bushes into the forest proper. With each long stride, he seemed to gain that much more ground against his target. The kid didn’t seem to have a flashlight. They were going to get hurt if they weren’t careful.
They seemed to be making for a large tree. The air wavered, as if in a heat mirage as the kid slashed at it with something. A knife? Some kind of prop for the costume? He didn’t have long to wonder. His foot caught on a root, and he tumbled headlong, struggling to right himself and maintain his balance. He crashed headlong into the dirt and began to roll. His neck ached and burned from the impact, as did his skull. The world started to fade, and that wavering in the air he’d noticed before seemed to expand to the point of consuming him. Then came the darkness as he slipped into unconsciousness.
“And that's it?” Luna asked as the world froze.
“Yeah. That’s it,” Taze commented as he found himself somehow on solid ground again, no longer living out his memory. “That’s all I remember. It was stupid, but I was trying to make sure no one messed with my neighbors.”
“Very similar to Matthew’s case, then. You both seem to lose your memory before actually hitting the portal. Though in your case, I suspect that you touched the very edges of it before you lost consciousness.” Luna sighed. “I hope Lord Shawn’s dream will hold more answers.”
“Well, sorry I couldn’t be of more help.” Taze shrugged.
“It’s not your fault. I’m grateful you were willing to allow me to make the attempt. You’ll awaken shortly,” Luna promised before vanishing.
Shawn blinked a few times as he came to. He was seated at a desk with a monitor in front of him. He rubbed at his eyes and returned his focus on the monitors, revealing a set of locations around his house. The one focused on in particular was the one at his front door.
“Jeez, what time is it?” he muttered, looking at a nearby clock. The display read 1:00 A.M. He groaned to himself as he stretched briefly. “All right, must have fallen asleep.” Then he swore. “Damn it, I’ve got to open the shop in six and a half hours.”
He stood from his chair and gave another stretch before turning his attention back to the monitor. Just before he reached the power button, a brief flicker caught his attention on one of the camera displays. Scanning over the image, he started to look through all the other cameras nearby to figure out what happened. Which, in turn, revealed a figure moving about near the side of his house.
It was small and covered in a cloak. Whoever it was couldn’t have been more than four feet tall. The part that was most curious was the large backpack they were carrying, which nearly doubled their size.
Shawn frowned to himself as he looked over his desk and seized the flashlight he’d kept there. Curiosity had won over him. He needed to figure out who was wandering around his place at one in the morning. That being said, he didn’t live in the best neighborhood. Deciding to err on the side of caution, he reached into another drawer of his desk and pulled out an unloaded glock. Steeling himself, he took hold of it and a magazine to load it, chambering a round before he placed it in his pocket.
He chose to leave through the back door and kept his flashlight low as he made his way to the side of his house. Placing himself on the corner, he took a breath and finally rounded to confront whoever was there. “Look, pal, this isn’t a good idea—”
Shawn stiffened as the individual turned to face him. Gray pale flesh greeted him with yellow sickly eyes and a skull that was clearly too large to be anything human. It gave a startled noise at his appearance, causing Shawn to take a few steps back as he grabbed his pistol. “What the fu—?” His boot caught over something, though he was certain there was nothing behind him moments ago.
As he fell backwards, a deep chill coated the back of neck, followed by the entirety of his body. Then his body went numb. The flashlight and pistol both fell out of his grip as darkness started to greet his vision.
At this point, everything froze. For a moment, Luna swore she saw a marking burned into the air in front of her. And then it was gone, and so was she as she was painfully ejected from the dream. In the corporeal world, there was a loud crackle like plasma firing between coils, and the white cords of magic severed with a plume of smoke. Luna twitched a little, attempting to catch her breath as she fell to the floor with a heavy clop. “Something is not right,” she said, panting.
“Luna!” Celestia raced to her sister’s side. “Are you all right?”
“You would be correct in that assessment,” a voice called back in return, followed by the sound of boots against the stone floor.
“What art thou, spirit?” Luna growled, lighting her horn.
“What I am is nothing as trivial as your spirits,” the voice replied again. While it was Shawn standing before them, his voice wasn’t right. “You weren’t careful in that spell of yours.”
“What manner of creature are you, then?” Celestia asked as her horn ignited and she took a combative stance. “If you pose a threat to our kingdom….”
“There are a rare number of things I care about in the physical realms. It just so happened that this one—” he gestured to himself, or the case being, Shawn’s body. “—caught my attention. A mortal being who tripped through the veil, and bore witness to many powerful entities. It’s a miracle his mind didn’t shatter.”
“No creature passes through the void consciously,” Luna stated bluntly.
“Yet he has,” the voice replied equally bluntly. “If it weren’t for the fact your spell couldn’t handle the strain that would follow that sight, I would have had to step in sooner. This, was your one chance. I won’t save you again. If you want, try to pry into his memories again. But know that it won’t end well for you.”
“And what of your current host?” Celestia pressed.
“In due time, the memories will surface, and knowledge will follow it. What he does with it, you will have to wait and see.” He shrugged.”And it won’t be just you two affected by this result. His friends appear to have been similarly marked, just without the side effects.”
“And do you intend to remain and watch over Lord Shawn?”
“Lord Shawn.” He gave a brief chuckle. “To answer your question, I watch over everything. For a time, I suppose I will watch over things here, and now.”
“Inside of him?”
“Everything,” the voice replied flatly. “Everywhere.”
“Then you are a god?”
“Not by definition.”
“And should we expect you to … visit us like this in the future?”
“For your sakes, pray that I don’t have to,” the voice remarked as Shawn’s eyes dulled. For the briefest of moments, it felt as though the shadows in the room receded, and the air felt clearer. After a second, Shawn dropped to his knees. Before he could hit the ground, he threw his arms out at the last moment, catching himself. “Wh—?” he gasped, reaching up to his chest. “What the hell happened? Why am I on the floor?”
“There was an issue with the spell. Your mind was suppressing something, and it caused feedback,” Luna said, quickly piecing together an explanation. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think it would happen.”
“I suppose that makes sense?” Shawn shook his head as he attempted to stand up. “But, how did I get over here though? Wasn’t I on the bed a moment ago?”
“Magic can be strange sometimes when feedback is involved. You’re fortunate you only teleported to the other side of the room. You could have ended up anywhere,” Luna said.
“That does sound fortunate.” He rubbed the side of his head. “Are the others fine?”
“Yes. The spell went perfectly for them. They’ll wake up in their own time.”
Shawn looked over the two before nodding to himself. After a second, he moved over to the bed meant for him and took a seat. “That was a strange experience.”
“It must be doubly so for one who wasn’t raised with magic,” Celestia said sympathetically.
“Indeed. Though it’s strange to me, because I can kinda remember … something. Though, it’s still foggy.”
“Given the nature of the feedback caused, it might not be wise to dwell on it for now. Better to let it come in its own time, when you are ready to face it, rather than risk the consequences if you don’t.”
Matthew sat up with a gasp and confusion. “Wh—?” he sputtered before looking and feeling the chill of the cave, then shivered and pulled his legs up to conserve body heat. “That … was maybe the fourth most vivid dream I’ve ever had.”
Taze groaned as he sat up. “I dunno, seemed like a normal dream,” he said groggily.
“Including Princess Luna appearing at the end of what has to be my…” he frowned. “My memories,” he choked out.
“You okay?” Taze asked.
“Just … off kilter, to be honest. Expecting the other shoe to drop now.”
“I am not familiar with that phrase,” Celestia admitted.
Matthew looked to Celestia. “Something happens, usually a bad thing. And it’s always attached to another event, usually in pairs or triples. The other shoe dropping essentially means that something bad or surprising is going to happen. For example, say the wheel of a wagon breaks, and when it breaks, your compass shatters or something.”
Shawn looked to Matthew for a moment before turning his attention back towards Celestia and Luna.
“I see. So, not unlike the fulfillment of the prophecy of my sister’s return, followed by the revelation that she always was my sister, a fact that shocked many a Pony at first,” Celestia mused.
“Yes, something like that,” Matthew answered with a grin.
“If it’s all right with you, Sister, I’d like to invite our guests to my personal balcony tonight to observe me raising the moon,” Luna said suddenly. “I think they have earned the pleasure.”
Celestia raised a curious brow. “I don’t have anything against it if they wish to see it. Though I would think your dream spell would have held more interest for them.”
“I mean, dreams are one thing but to actually see the night sky coming in, that would be a treat,” Taze commented. “Our species has tracked the stars for millennia.”
Matthew smiled. “The stars guided our sailors home from abroad. Farmers used the stars to know when to plant, when to harvest.”
Luna beamed at her sister. “Then it is settled.”
“Be gentle with them, Sister. They haven’t teleported before.”
“It will be fine, Sister,” Luna said. She ignited her horn, and moments later, she and the three humans vanished as though they hadn’t been present.
Celestia sighed and used her magic to teleport the beds back to their proper locations. Then she ran over the wards with her horn. Hidden runes, sigils, seals, and other magical measures rippled at her touch and beamed softly as their glow resonated with hers. After all, she and Luna had cast these protections themselves.
However, the fact that the spells not only appeared to have avoided being tripped, but even neglected to register the presence of an unauthorized entity was another matter altogether. She snapped her horn back, plunging the room into darkness again as she strode on trembling legs toward the double doors. Whatever this entity had been, it existed outside the standard rules of magic.
The bedchambers of Princess Luna were vastly different from the design of the rest of the palace. Instead of the radiant and at times gaudy daylight colors of gold, white, and pastelles, Luna’s private quarters were fashioned exclusively after her element of night. The great arched ceiling faded and blended with intricate cloth as delicate as gossamer. It seemed less an enclosed space and more as if the very heavens had been woven into the ceiling to create a vast open space and rolling sky. The room was filled with pulsing white crystals and smooth polished stones that bathed the room in the cool touch of moonlight. Stands laden with candles invoked the feeling of gnarled trees from a forest. The great crescent that formed the headboard and canopy of her bed was covered in a similar cloth that seemed to absorb all light.
The walls were as laden with weapons racks and armor stands as Celestia’s quarters were laden with books. The crescent moon and its stars dotted the whole floor in the form of a soft carpet that coated the whorls of polished stone that symbolized the ethereal plane. A number of paintings were hung higher up on the walls, portraying the night sky and the shadows of Thestrals passing through the clouds. In the center of the room, a breathtaking portrait of a young filly Luna curled up in a pulsing white orb, resting in slumber. Two hooves brushed against her cheeks, the one blue, the other brown, as if to bid her a peaceful sleep.
A plinth held a blue pyre that licked and rippled, casting its flame in a pillar toward the ceiling. Occasionally, the flame would part or flicker just enough to reveal the glowing silhouette of a pulsing war hammer encased in a warded crystal container that shone like sapphire.
Elsewhere in the chamber, a shiny blue metal formed the base of a table with a marble top sheathed in what appeared to be mother of pearl. The rainbow sheen was circled in a corona of black and green that seemed to writhe like the great Northern Lights of the Arctic. It pulsed with a gentle light to reveal the chess board that had been set above it. A floor-length obsidian mirror sat off to one side, embedded into the structure of the wall. Its make was so simple that it seemed to actively repel the gaze of any that looked upon it. But rather than the glossy reflective surface one might expect from the fragile stone, this one seemed to absorb all light, leaving an absolute void in its place.
The pieces on the board were intricately carved, with one side formed from flawlessly polished sapphire while the other was created from the purest veins of amethyst. The kings and queens were identical, the one being a powerful Earth Pony with an intricate beard and piercing eyes that seemed almost to glow. The queen was a Unicorn whose horn glowed with equal intensity. The pieces to the right of the kings was a mighty Pegasus garbed in armor with a spear raised above the brush that his mane formed through his helmet. This was followed by a studious Unicorn holding a book and quill in one hoof while the other pushed up his glasses along the bridge of his nose. A large Minotaur grasping an intricate staff and garbed in a mask and robes formed the rook. To the side of the queen, a burly Earth Pony held a mighty shield before him with a grim expression on his face. To his left, a Gryphon took the place of the customary bishop, garbed in holy robes with talons raised in benediction. And lastly, for the final rook, a beautiful dragon was carefully rendered not with scales, but with feathers. Instead of two eyes, four pulsed gently with an inner fire. The pawns were each unique, one for each of the known tribes. A Thestral, a Unicorn, a Pegasus, an Earth Pony, a Gryphon, a Diamond Dog, and, strangely enough, a Hippogriff and anthropomorphic cat.
Shawn hummed as he looked over the board a few times. “Interesting.”
“You play?” Luna asked, tracking Shawn’s line of sight.
“Yeah,” Shawn replied. “Though, it’s different than I would have expected.”
“It should be. It predates the rule of me or my sister.”
“I suppose that explains the fact that the king and queen are an … Earth Pony and a Unicorn,” Shawn noted.
“Yes, though their identity is lost to almost everyone,” Luna said. “So the story of why they are the way they are is also lost.”
Shawn frowned before turning back to the board, giving a soft hum in thought to himself.
“So? You seemed to want to speak to us alone,” Taze stated bluntly.
“Yes, … there are things I feel best discussed in the one place my sister has no eyes or ears.”
Matthew stared out over the city from the portal to the balcony. Even in the night, the gentle glow of the shield bubble cast a pinkish hue over the city. “Is it about the giant bubble?”
“Your city is under threat, and you’re preparing for a potential attack. From what was gathered, it could even be in plain sight,” Shawn remarked as he glanced over to Luna.
Luna looked at Shawn with a few blinks. “I don’t suppose you’ll tell me how you knew that?” Luna asked.
“That’s one rule I couldn’t break. Don’t sell out your sources,” Shawn replied before rubbing the back of his head. “I’m sorry, but … I couldn’t.”
“That's … fair,” Luna commented. “Yes, a threat was made against Canterlot. The same day you all appeared as a matter of fact. Within the same hour, even.”
“So, that’s why all the Ponies are jittery around us,” Matthew said. “A logical precaution, but it sure is a pain in the rear.”
“Oh, we figured out you three weren’t a major threat shortly after we had you scanned and looked over,” she noted to Matthew. “Not on the level we were worried about, anyway. Your race has impressive mobility, but if our predictions are right, your physical strength faces a ceiling of just over one of our tons at your extremes.” She picked up a small ornament. “This is dowerite, an incredibly dense metal that can handle pressures exceeding fifteen tons.” Luna's horn glowed, and the figure reciprocated before dimming to its normal state again. “I just removed the protective enchantments that shielded it from me.” She placed the figure between her hooves and, with no visible effort, crushed it into a single small disk-like lump that she then dropped on the table next to the chess set.
Matthew squealed briefly at the sight, then moved tentatively to pick up the disc.
“I think my point is well made?” Luna asked.
Matthew looked first at the disc, then back to Luna. “May … may I hold onto this?”
“Of course,” Luna said as she opened a drawer and replaced the figurine with an identical one. “Of course, this is more unique to me. Not even Celestia is quite so physically strong.”
Matthew nodded as he pocketed the metal disk. “T-thank you,” he stammered. “Just, this is a bit more information to take in than I expected.”
“Anyway, my sister and myself are well aware of what species the threat comes from, and you three are a bit tall to be Changelings.”
“Wait, what?” Matthew balked. Then he shuddered. “They wouldn’t happen to steal babies and replace them with their own, would they?”
“Not Equestrian Changelings,” Luna said. “I assume that description has to do with the species on your world. In Equestria, however, they feed off love.”
Shawn blinked a few times. “That’s a strange alternative.”
“They also have the ability to shapeshift into Ponies and several other things,” Luna added.
“I assume that’s part of the name reasoning?” Shawn questioned. “Then again, most names follow some strange roundabout way of it, so…” He frowned and thought to himself.
“I'm telling you this to keep you aware of the danger and explain why I have invested in my guard so carefully,” Luna said bluntly.
“They do seem more prepared,” Shawn remarked.
Luna nodded. “I was taught strategy by a master. Those lessons have served me well.”
“It would certainly explain the steps you’ve taken so far.”
Matthew frowned as he looked about the room. “How can I help? I know I might not be of much use, but as of right now, you’re telling us this. I can only presume to keep us on the alert, potentially as an unknown to your enemy, and thus a potential asset. Given the way you’ve hosted us, it wouldn’t be proper for us not to offer our assistance in some small way, especially since I would assume this danger may also extend to us indirectly as your guests.”
“For now, keep to your rooms and be careful who you speak to,” Luna advised. “I hope to have more to tell you later on.”
“That sounds fair.” Taze nodded. “I appreciate the warning.”
“Thank you,” Matthew agreed.
“Would it be safe to assume you’ll have a different method of contact next time?” Shawn asked.
“Probably through my guard.” Luna nodded. “My sister doesn’t completely trust me, due to relatively recent issues, and she is far softer than this situation requires.”
“Fair enough.”
“Unfortunately, I think our time is just about up,” Luna admitted.
“Sounds about right,” Shawn nodded. “Nevertheless, we appreciate the information.”
Luna nodded. “The guard at the door will see you to your rooms after our last piece of business is concluded.”
“Sounds good.” Matthew nodded. “Though, what business would that be?”
“Why, raising the moon, of course.” Luna said before opening the balcony doors and striding onto the surface to gaze on the falling sun. “Did I not promise to show you how it is done?”
“Yes, you did.” Matthew nodded as he followed her onto the balcony. “Is it going to be like that spell you cast in the cave?”
“Not quite.” Luna smiled as she concentrated. Her horn began to glow. “Over time, I’ve found it better to make this spell a lot more … showy.” Around her horn, small silver lights began to swirl as the glow increased in intensity. She lowered her head until her horn fell below the horizon and seemed to lock it into place. Then she slowly began to raise her head. As she did so, the moon began to appear on the horizon, following the tip of her horn. As it rose, the silver lights swirled up and out into the sky painting the night sky with slow pinpricks of stars that gradually worked to a crescendo of silver pinpricks shooting off into space. With a large wave of silvery light, the moon reached its zenith and the sky was painted with thousands of shimmering diamond lights.
“Now that, is quite a sight,” Shawn remarked with awe.
Matthew gaped at the night sky Luna had effectively willed into being.
“Wow,” Taze said intelligently as he looked over the sky.
Luna gave a genuine smile. “It is good to see others appreciating my work. Unfortunately, this is where we must part.”
“Then I hope we may meet again under better circumstances, without this threat,” Matthew said as he and the others returned to the room and walked toward the door.
“I do as well.” Luna nodded.
“Indeed.” Shawn gave a small smile. “Maybe we can play a game of chess sometime after. Though I doubt I’ll do well against you.”
“You never know. You may surprise yourself,” Luna commented before closing the door behind them.
Matthew looked at his friends as they settled back into their room. Moonshade was once again on duty. He strode to his attache case and removed a journal and pen to scrawl over. He finished writing and passed it to Shawn.
Are we going to tell them that we know?
Shawn raised a brow at the question before turning to Moonshade. “Just to keep everyone on the same page, we’ve been told about the current threat by Princess Luna.”
Moonshade eyed them for a few moments before nodding. “I suppose if she saw fit to, then she had a good reason.”
“Well, if nothing else, if we are allowed to still travel the halls, we can let you or one of our guards know if we see something out of place. More eyes on a problem, the better, as my mother would say,” Matthew said.
“Perhaps, but more leaks sink the boat faster,” Moonshade returned.
“True,” Matthew conceded. “But while you’re guarding us and protecting us, it seems proper that we should show a certain amount of mutual cooperation. I don’t expect full disclosure, and neither should you. But this threat affects us equally. And from what your princess said, we’re the only ones immune to being replaced by an imposter.”
“Yes, but the fact you cannot be replaced doesn’t change the fact we still don’t know you well enough to trust you.” Moonshade shrugged. “The devil you don’t know is rarely the preferable choice.”
“True. Though I suppose that means we will need to get to know each other. Preferably when our lives aren’t in so much danger. In our world, it was often fear of the unknown that led to tragedy. Perhaps we’ll reach a point where we can both lower our guards.” He sighed and sank onto his bed. “I suppose for now, though, we’ll have to trust in your guidance. Do you have any information on this threat that you are permitted to share with us?”
“Nothing I am currently aware of,” Moonshade answered.
Matthew groaned and fell back onto his pillow. “I hate these kinds of threats. Give me someone I can see and fight over a spy any day.”
“That's the nature of war, unfortunately,” Moonshade answered.
“So, for now, we maintain the status quo?”
“The what?”
“Status quo. It basically means keeping things the same and following the course.” He frowned as he flipped onto his side to look at the Thestral. “Is that a phrase you haven’t been taught in Draconic yet?”
“It’s Latin, Matthew,” Shawn spoke up. “From what I’ve gathered, that isn’t a language here, or at least it’s one that even the princesses don’t know.”
“Seems likely not everything from your world would match ours,” Moonshade agreed.
Matthew sat up and blinked in surprise. “Oh. I just … sort of thought that would’ve carried over, since it was adopted. Never thought about its roots before.” He shrugged. “Huh. The more you know.” He turned to face Moonshade. “So, what do you suggest for our next move?”
“For now, it’s best you all keep to yourselves,” Moonshade noted.
“Moonshade, would you mind stepping out for a little bit?” Shawn asked.
The mare rolled her eyes but nodded before leaving the room.
Shawn waited a moment before sighing. “Honestly, it didn’t matter either way, since I have a feeling they have a method of listening in here, anyway.” He frowned. “In either case, even if they are, we’ve got an issue.”
“Only one?” Matthew asked.
Shawn let that pass. “They’re lying to us, and I don’t mean about current events and such. Something’s been going on this whole time, and it’s really starting to bug me. Like before they did the memory spell, whenever we started talking over how we got here, the topic kept shifting before any ground could be made. Beyond that, when they did said memory spell, I woke up standing in a different part of the room, and both of them were uneasy. When I asked, their response was that I had apparently teleported due to ‘some kind of feedback.’ I have no clue as to how magic works, but I can tell that was made up on the spot.” His brows furrowed. “They’re hiding something about us, and I don’t like that in the slightest.”
“Maybe it’s medical,” Matthew said. “The last surgery I had, they kept having me go to different tests and didn’t tell me the results. They’re probably getting their ducks in a row before they say anything. It could be nothing, or it could be a leaking heart valve.” He shrugged. “My guess is they’ll probably tell us when they’re ready.”
“Matthew, we can’t assume the best just because,” Taze noted.
“Then I’ll be the optimist of the group and hope for it, instead.” He strode to Shawn’s side and retrieved his notebook before scrawling another message.
Plan for the worst.
“Considering current events, we’re not really far off from there,” Shawn replied flatly. “We’re in the capital of a foreign world that was threatened and infiltrated. We’re surrounded by armed guards and princesses that could get rid of us in an instant. Our history is blatantly out there, given what they were told and the memories they saw. All of this, because we somehow followed a Forager within our world to this one,” he growled out, rubbing his forehead.
“A what?” Matthew asked. “I don’t think I’m familiar with that creature.”
“Matthew, I'm the one that binges mythology, and I’ve never heard that term,” Taze said.
“A Forager,” Shawn muttered as he thought it over. “Why does that sound familiar?” He paused for a moment, and the explanation that followed came gropingly, like a blind man feeling out a room he hadn’t quite memorized yet. “A creature, pale complexion, frail, and a collector of items between the realms.” He shook his head in disbelief. “I must have read about it somewhere, but I can’t remember.”
Matthew looked over at Taze. “Are you sure you’ve never heard of this creature before, Taze?”
“Nothing comes to mind,” Taze admitted. “I mean, all those traits exist in mythology, but rarely altogether.”
“Thaumaturgy,” Shawn commented suddenly from his thoughts. “That’s … it, I think.” He groaned as he rubbed the side of his head. “Damn it, my memory has been scattered since we came here. I constantly feel like I’m forgetting something.”
“Well, if you remember anything, maybe jot it down or something,” Matthew suggested. “I’ve got plenty of paper to go around for now.” He frowned then. “More importantly, what’s thaumaturgy?”
“It’s ... kind of like magic, but a strange kind.” He frowned. “I’ll tell you more when I remember it. I feel like I’m only getting a grasp on this at the moment.”
“All right. Don’t hurt yourself trying to make it come back, okay?” Matthew said. “Taze and I’ll do everything we can to help, won’t we, Taze?”
“Of course.” Taze nodded. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“Well, I mean, it’s not like you could, anyway.” Shawn gave a weak smile in return.
Matthew chuckled at the humor. “I wouldn’t want to be stuck in this new world with anybody else.”
Shawn sighed to himself as he rubbed at the side of his head. “He ... llo, Crescent.”
“Getting better,” Crescent said in Draconic. His own ability was getting better in turn. “Less pauses.”
“I figured as much, but it’s quite difficult to form those words for my species,” Shawn remarked in return. “Still, I’d say some progress is better than none. Thankfully, listening to the language turned out to be easier than I expected, since I thought I would be completely unable to determine what words were what.”
Crescent nodded. He pronounced the words Shawn had tried to say again in a slow even pace making sure to emphasize points.
“Hello, Crescent,” Shawn went again, ensuring he cut down on the pauses.
“Much better.” The stallion seemed pleased.
“Similar to your Eng- Draconic,” Shawn corrected himself. “You’re certainly picking it back up at a decent rate.”
“Practice makes perfect.” The stallion smirked.
“Yeah, yeah.” Shawn rolled his eyes, giving a small smile. “Helps when you already know the language in the first place. Though, I know I’ve got some words that would certainly stump you, even if you fully memorize Draconic.”
“Not competition.”
“Yeah, but you’ve got to make some things interesting for subjects to learn. I’ve nearly got the written language down, just because it’s similar to our writing back home, and you’re easier to talk to than the others,” Shawn replied. “I’m learning, and I’m not gonna stray from that, but I can at least offer you some new words as well.”
“Fair enough.” Crescent nodded. “Where start?”
“Now, I could be cruel and say hippopotomonstrosesquippedaliophobia, but perhaps one that I would know well would be ‘Compressor.’”
Crescent attempted to say the word, but all that came out were awkward sounds.
“There we go, something new for you to learn. And I’ll continue my attempts at learning Equestrian.” Shawn chuckled.
Crescent nodded. “Fair.”
Shawn gave a smile. “Plus,” he lowered his voice, “given the nature of the threat, having a word that doesn’t exist here works great as a check. Wouldn’t you agree?”
Crescent nodded. “Smart.”
“Better safe than sorry. I appreciate the help you’ve been giving me these last few nights, given I haven’t heard anything about our potential returns.”
“No magic.” Crescent shrugged. “Magic for shamans and unicorns.”
Shawn raised a brow, confused for a moment.
“Thestral magic is … not thinking?” he said, unsure if the words fit. “Thestral magic happen normally. No spell. No thought. Just happen. You return need thought magic, need controlled magic.”
“Fair enough. I suppose we’ll see what Celestia and Luna think when this whole situation is dealt with.”
Crescent nodded. “Hope that soon.”
“Tired of my company already?” Shawn gave a small smirk. “I appreciate the hope, nevertheless.”
“Hope threat dealt with soon,” Crescent clarified. “Family in danger.”
“Fair.” Shawn nodded. “Sorry. I thought you meant that toward the earlier stuff.”
Crescent chuckled. “Not that lucky,” he said in a teasing tone.
Shawn gave a small smile. “Out of all the potential guards, huh?”
The next morning found the trio among their escort being led by Celestia down a series of halls and passages that most definitely were not standard for Pony travel. Eventually, they arrived at a set of heavily reinforced studded wooden doors. Before they opened, Celestia turned to face her guests.
“The forges are a few stories below us. The closer we draw to them, the warmer it’s going to become. Lord Shawn should be used to the heat, or at the very least familiar with it. However, I must ask the rest of you to brace yourselves. We keep our fires very hot, and some of our weapons are forged with the assistance of dragon flame for our more serious magical threats. As such, I must stress the importance of not touching anything without permission. Not only could it be dangerous to you, but it’s extremely offensive to our smiths.”
Matthew swallowed heavily and nodded. “Thanks for the warning.”
“This is gonna be awesome,” Taze said happily.
“I’m very curious to see what you have to work with,” Shawn added.
“And I look forward to showing you. You’ll also have your weapons returned to you,” Celestia added. “Our smiths found your particular weapon designs most intriguing, Hunter Taze.” She nodded toward Shawn and the belt at his waist. “And with your permission, we’ll also have your sword serviced. Or if you would prefer, you may service it yourself. I know it means a great deal to you.”
Shawn raised his hands placatingly. “That depends on what tools are available. I only know so much with our tools, not Equestria’s.”
“Then we will see what we will see. Come.”
The doors yawned open to a broad and tall stairwell wide enough for four Ponies across. Even from their position at the top, the faint ring of the hammer and the roar of hot air sang through the space. True to Celestia’s word, the heat grew exponentially the deeper they descended until they arrived at last at the main chamber. A quick flick of her horn was all that was necessary to open the way into a positively cavernous chamber. Pit after pit of burning coals and walled-off blast forges sat in wait while various Ponies tended to their work. Bellows huffed and winds churned with the heavy beats of Pegasus wings while firm and steady hooves smacked blow after blow with hammer, tongs, and in some cases their own specially crafted horseshoes. Anvils were alive with runes and glowing steel as mannequins were quickly loaded with armor to stand in preparation for the fittings to come, and weapons were quenched and laid on worktables to prepare for the moment where tines would meet hilt, haft would meet head, and skill would meet brutal efficiency. Weapons, schematics, and tools were scattered across the walls in equal measure with a strange form of balance that straddled the border between a proud decorative display and practicality.
“Welcome, gentlemen, to the royal forge.”
“Wow,” Taze said as his eyes widened.
Celestia couldn’t help but smile. “Yes, it is rather impressive. But if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that appearances should always come second to quality. We scavenge Equestria for the best candidates to join the ranks here. It’s a rigorous process, but a great honor to those who make the cut.”
“Listen to that song!” Taze chuckled as he took in the sounds of the forge, particularly the carefully timed hammer blows ringing out like an instrument.
“You weren’t kidding about the heat, were you?” Matthew panted. It wasn’t humid, but the heat was more than enough to flood his chest and make him uncomfortable. “You … said something about getting our weapons back?”
Celestia nodded as they strode deeper into the forge chamber. “Storm Hammer is waiting with them. She has many questions for you, Taze. Most particularly about your weapons and their unique design.” She led them and their escort to a smaller door, which Celestia opened easily, only to be greeted by a vituperation of curses that flowed into comprehension as she cast her translation spell again.
“Ey! Who’s there? I t’ought I said I wasn’t to be disturbed!” a voice yelled, followed by a proper form as a Unicorn as black as coal stomped angrily out of the heat waves emanating from what was presumably her personal workshop. She levitated two mallets in steely gray magic. “I t’ought I told you gobshites I wasn’t gunna be ‘olden your hooves through every Sleipnir-damned—” She cut off suddenly when she finally noticed just who had disturbed her work. “Oh! Your Majesty. Beggin' your pardon. Didn’t realize it was you.” She gave a short bow of her head.
Celestia laughed. “Don’t worry, Storm Hammer. I’ve heard far worse in my lifetime.”
“I’d ask what you’re doing ‘ere, but given the three behind you, I think I can guess,” the Unicorn noted. “’Ello to you three. M’names Storm Hammer. Storm of a temper, good with a hammer. ’Least that's what me da’ always told me. I’m a grandmaster smith of the Equestrian Metalworking Guild with a specialization in weapons. How I got me mark, wouldn’t you believe.”
“Matthew Conner,” the first one said by way of introduction as he waved slowly. His face was still flushed from the mare’s tirade, a coloration that seemed to be uniform in their guards.
“Taze Klim!” Taze said with a grin.
“Shawn Viginti,” Shawn replied with a nod.
“Very nice meeting you.” She gave a nod of the head. “Now, I'd say you're likely here about your weapons?”
“More than likely,” Celestia said. “Thank you for taking the project. I know your schedule is anything but open right now.”
“Eh.” The Unicorn gave a shrug. “Not so much that I'm busy as the ’prentices need to learn to work by demselves. I’d swear they can’t make a nail without coming to me for advice.”
Shawn gave a brief chuckle as he remembered almost the same complaint from his uncle.
“Anyway, Princess, I can make time for you and your guests,” Storm Hammer said. “Just follow me and we’ll get this sorted out.” She drew farther in, and the guests followed.
The chamber they were led into was smaller than the massive one outside, but for a single person seemed spacious. A board with numerous tools lay across the west wall while two separate anvils lay central to everything. A magical furnace burned with raging violet flames nearby. Molds and crucibles stood waiting for molten metal to be poured into them, and ingots of various colors and hues were neatly stacked in a corner.
Matthew swallowed heavily and smacked his lips as he eyed the quenching barrel and its rippling water.
“This place looks awesome.” Taze chuckled, looking around eagerly before returning his gaze to Shawn.
“That it does,” Shawn agreed as he looked over the tools. “I recognize most of it, though the occasional magic-related thing is obviously out of my range of knowledge.”
“Thank you.” Storm Hammer nodded. “My own corner of the world, this is,” she said happily. “Now then, not sure there is much I can do for you,” she noted to Shawn. “Yer blade’s already been returned to you. If you’d like something done with it, I can direct you to an associate of mine.”
“Probably a good idea.” Shawn rubbed the back of his head. “It’s probably in need of some maintenance.”
“’Kay, then. Office is three stations down. Goes by the name of Steel Weaver. He deals with weapons like yours.”
“Appreciate it.” Shawn gave a nod. “I’ll wait until afterwards, since I’m unsure of how far the translation spell can go.”
Storm Hammer nodded. “Now you,” she said, turning to Taze, “I dunno what you call this or where you got it, but the design is amazing. The metal’s shite, clearly only meant to be used for looks, but the design is elegant yet capable. Dunno if I like the weakness around the spine, but for a slashing weapon, this ain’t like anything I've ever clapped eyes on. That being said, I was able to do a few things for you after some research. At the princesses’ behest, I made the blade a bit more functional. Mythril coating along the spine to strengthen it, and a bit of brightsteel inlay along the edge. Still not meant for real combat, but in a pinch, it should protect you. Unfortunately, I ‘ad no idea what the small arm was, so I didn’t touch it.'' She levitated the katana and jitte to Taze without putting the mallets down. Upon taking them, Taze unsheathed the katana and gave a low whistle at the brassy finish along the spine and the heavily polished look along the edge.
“Thank you,” Taze said.
“Now you.” She turned to Matthew as Celestia levitated a wooden cup full of water to him.
“Yes?”
“What the heck are you doing carrying this around?” She held his K-bar up. “What did you think you’d accomplish with this?”
“Last line of defense. It’s complementary to the main standard of weapons issued to folks like me.” Matthew paused. “Do you know what a crossbow is? In our world, we once used such weapons to help in case anything got past the front guards. Likewise, in our more modern warfare, we have to use secondary weapons like this K-bar to defend ourselves. We call it trench tactics or hand-to-hand combat.”
“Well, I don’t see it, but that’s your culture.” Storm Hammer shrugged. “Funny you mention a crossbow, though, as the princess ‘ere decided you three needed some form of self-defense, so we had these made for you.” She levitated a light crossbow with a crank to Matthew, along with a small quiver of bolts.
Matthew turned to face away from the others and took a bolt from the quiver. He quickly worked out how to load the bolt, access the firing trigger, and remove the bolt safely without the aid of the safeties he was so used to seeing on weaponry back home. The attempts were clumsy, but showed promise, alongside the fact he respected the need for caution when dealing with such things. He grinned as a harness was levitated and set over his shirt, complete with a proper location to secure the bow on his back. A belt with pouches loaded with quarrels was added to complete the ensemble. With his new garb prepared, he turned to the smith and Celestia and rendered a Salute. “Thank you.”
“As long as it don't come back pointed at me.” Storm Hammer smirked. “Now then, if there’s nothin’ else I can do for you gennlemen, I’ll bid you good day.”
“Good day,” Matthew returned.
“Thanks a lot,” Taze said.
Shawn simply gave a nod in return.
Celestia nodded. “As usual, you have my thanks, Storm Hammer. Rest assured, you’ll be receiving proper payment for your service, and a bonus for the rush work. You can also expect my sister to visit sometime this evening, I should think. She may have an order for the forges, though I can’t say for certain.”
“I’ll look forward to it with great anticipation. Farewell, Princess.”
And with that, Celestia closed off her spell and led the way through the forges. Just as Storm Hammer suggested, the group strode down three workstations to the proper door and entered.
As they entered Steel Weaver’s workshop, the difference between the two smiths became readily apparent. Tool racks laid empty. Every tool that should have been there instead laid at any number of workstations where they had last been used at either the anvil, the worktable, and even the grindstone, waiting to be picked up at a moment’s notice. Near the forge stood a large steel-gray stallion with a bronze mane. Unlike the other Ponies, this smith towered over the guards in muscle mass and size. His cutie mark depicted a warhammer and helmet planted on top of an anvil.
Once more, the golden aura spread through the room. And once more, the natural language of the equines flowed in English for the humans to hear.
“Ah’, so these are the three you were talkin’ about,” Steel Weaver spoke up. After looking them over, he placed his current project back into the fire before turning his attention fully to the group. “I can see why Storm Hammer’d have a rougher time with you lot. Shortest one of you’s stands decently tall enough.”
Celestia giggled. “By most Pony standards, they’d rival a Minotaur in its youth. But then again, I suppose that wouldn’t bother you much, now would it, Steel Weaver?”
“As lon’ as they’re able to wield whatever it is I make for them, it’ll be fine. So, which one of you wielded the claymore?” he questioned, eyeing the trio. After a moment, he settled on Shawn. “I’m guessing you, based on yer’ size. Though yer’ blade’s mostly hidden by that coat you’ve got on.”
Shawn looked confused for a moment. “I think so, but I’m not wielding a claymore.” He reached to his hip to unsheathe his sword. “It’s a longsword. Though, now that I’m seeing the size difference, your description is starting to make sense….”
Steel Weaver eyed the blade before reaching a hoof out. “You mind if I give it a good look over?”
Shawn nodded, handing the blade over to the smith.
“All right.” He turned the sword over in his hoof a few times, then moved to his work table. He pulled out a few tools and tapped probingly over the metal. “An impressive variant of steel you’ve got here. A brass guard, good weight distribution. Only problem you’ve got is that it’s completely dull.”
“Yeah, it was made some time ago and could … definitely use the work.” Shawn rubbed the back of his head.
“Well, if you’re willing to accept it, I can easily clean this thing up. Shouldn’t have to replace or rework anything.” Steel Weaver turned towards Shawn. “I could probably do more for you if you could handle it, and if Princess Celestia would allow it,” he added, turning towards Celestia.
“That would depend on if you mean dedicating funds to more of your projects or if you’re specifically referring to Lord Shawn’s sword,” Celestia said.
“Well, I could broaden the skills a little with some new inspiration I’ve got. I’d offer something to the whole group you brought, if it weren’t for the fact I doubt all three of them could handle it. I’m sure Storm Hammer’s probably got the same thing in mind for them, but she just didn’t bring it up immediately, I’m bettin’.”
Celestia chuckled. “You two always did work well together.”
“So, if you’re willin’, what if we look into some type of armor for these three? Storm Hammer could handle those two, and I could make something for him. It’s not every day you get to work on something new.”
“Especially not with a new species?” Celestia quipped.
“Exactly.” Steel Weaver gave a smile.
Celestia sighed dramatically. “I suppose, if you can work it into your schedules.”
“I’m certain of my end, though Storm Hammer’d probably take some time to finish hers. After all, appearances are her speciality.” He chuckled before turning to Shawn. “Lad, do me a quick favor. See that weapon rack to your left?” He pointed toward it. “Second sword on the left. Pick that up, would you?”
Shawn blinked a few times before seizing the blade in question and lifting it. After a moment, he turned back to Steel Weaver.
“Well?” Steel Weaver asked.
“What?” Shawn questioned.
He rolled his eyes. “How’s that one feel to you?”
Shawn looked over the sword again. It was slightly different in shape than a standard longsword from Earth. The grip appeared to be slightly longer than a one-handed weapon normally had, but not quite long enough to count as two-handed. Turning it over in his grip, he tested the weight, felt its balance, and noted it was surprisingly good. “It’s very well made.”
Steel Weaver looked to Celestia. “I like him. You’ve brought me someone that can actually wield the weapons I like makin’. He’s even holding it one hoo-er, handed.”
Celestia raised a curious brow. “I hope you don’t plan on kidnapping him, Steel Weaver.”
“No, not at all. Though I may need to borrow him from time to time.” He smiled.
“That will primarily be up to Lord Shawn to decide for himself. Provided he keeps to the rules, I don’t see why he shouldn’t have the freedom to come and go at your request.”
“I don’t mind,” Shawn spoke up as he placed the weapon back on the rack. “A place like this reminds me of my uncle’s shop. And though I didn’t pick the same profession, I always did find smithing to be interesting.”
“Then that’s that.” Steel Weaver smiled before it wilted. “Though, you’re doing a spell to help translate their speech, so it’s probably not gonna happen too often any time soon.”
Matthew watched the exchange intently, waiting for the chance to join in on the conversation while Taze just seemed to be taking the room and all its weapons in.
“Uh, you mentioned that Taze and I need help elsewhere. Does that mean more weapons and armor, or just one or the other?”
Steel Weaver raised a brow. “Well, you’ve got yourself a new crossbow at your hip already, and I remember Storm Hammer complainin’ something fierce about a strange dagger, so you’ve already got your weapons covered. Meanwhile, your friend there,” he pointed to Taze. “Clearly has his weapons on his back, so he’s covered. Once she forms how she wants to ask Princess Celestia about making armor for you two, then she’ll move things forward. Until then, it’s just waiting for you two, I’m sorry to say. I just can’t see you two using the weapons I make.”
“Not a problem. I’m a different build and body shape than the others.” Matthew shrugged. “I’m just happy that we can figure out what to do to keep me vertical.”
Taze nodded after considering it. “Armor probably would be wise.”
“We’ll see how long she takes on figuring it all out.” Steel Weaver nodded. “All right, I hate to do this, but I need to work on this sword, and teach the apprentices a few things, so I’m gonna have to request you take your leave.”
“Of course, Steel Weaver. You’re a credit to your craft as a smith and a teacher.” She smiled and nodded her head in stately acknowledgement. “Come along, gentlemen. You can see the forges again another time.”
And so the party left the smith to his devices. They, too, had tasks to accomplish and deeds to prepare for. And there was precious time to waste.
Taze did his best to stand still as the measuring tape was levitated around him. Unfortunately, this proved exceptionally difficult due to one very simple fact. Standing still was never his strong suit. However, he was doing his best. A fluent Draconic speaker had been enlisted to assist in the translation.
“You know, if you have this much trouble sitting around, I’ve got a friend of mine who could be a great help. She has these incredible natural remedies. They really take the edge off after a long day at work,” the apprentice noted as she tacked off another series of numbers on her sheet.
“It’s not quite that simple,” Taze said. “I have a few medical conditions of my own to deal with.”
“That’s rough.” The Earth Pony shrugged and continued her examination. “So, you’re flat on the ground. That’s going to be interesting to work around,” she mused as she measured the human’s calves. “Most of the races and species we deal with aren’t built like that.”
“Honestly impressive how well you guys adjusted to us,” Taze commented.
“You’re the Princesses’ personal guests. If they say to treat you well, we do.” She shrugged. “That, and some of us are just easier to scare than others.”
“Still seems like you guys adjusted to operating with an entirely new species sort of fast,” Taze noted. “I mean, I’d suppose it’s easier for you with multiple races and all.”
“Quite a few,” the mare agreed. “Gryphons, Minotaurs, Zebras. We even have a few Kirin in the city, if you can believe it. Or, at least so I’ve been told.”
“Huh,” Taze said. “That's strange.”
“Why would a Kirin be strange?”
“Not that,” Taze said quickly. “In our world, we have myths regarding most of the races you just named, but as far as we can tell, they never actually existed in our world.”
“Good ones, I hope.”
“Mostly for Gryphons and Kirin, yes. Minotaurs, … not so much.”
She grimaced. “That … makes a certain amount of sense, given how quick they often are to act.”
“Dragons, to be fair, don’t have the greatest reputation either,” Taze noted.
“Blowhardy, pushy, big bullies who like to throw their weight around?”
“Also known for stealing princesses, hoarding gold, and burning down kingdoms,” Taze noted.
“That much, at least, yours and ours seem to have in common, though I don’t think any have tried to kidnap our princesses.” She giggled. “I think they’re too scared to try.”
“I can only imagine.” Taze chuckled. “Still weird there are so many parallels.”
“I only find it strange that we’ve never heard of your kind before.”
“Yeah,” Taze agreed, hoping not to be questioned about Earth’s ponies.
“So, what else can you tell me about your world?” the mare asked.
“Well, we call our planet Earth…” And so Taze started to expound upon the many wonders and dangers that Earth held through its vast regions from the mighty dinosaurs to the tiniest amoeba. And so the two were able to pass the time until the measurements were complete.
Shawn gave a brief yawn as he looked outside the window in their room. Based off the clock to his right, it was nearly time for Celestia and Luna to shift things forward. Crescent’s shift was already over, resulting in him just waiting for the morning to wake the others.
In a way, the change from night to day was very much like the shifting of a backdrop on a mechanical rendering of a village. The sun twisted and turned onto the horizon, carrying the daylight with it as a curtain of darker blue fled and lightened. The stars burst like bubble wrap and seemed to merge with that blanket of dawn until the golden rays penetrated every crevice of the great city while the once luminous moon dulled to a pale ghost of itself and finally crept below the horizon with the last of the shadows to grant its gentle influence to the other side of the world.
“Good enough,” Shawn muttered as he turned to face the others and performed his usual wakeup ceremony. Like before, tapping the base of their beds, this time from the foot of the bed, rather than the side. “All right, you two, it’s time to get up.”
Taze groaned as he slowly got up. “Why do you insist on this alarm?” he asked, rubbing his eyes.
“Because the princess, or a set of guards for her, are going to show up in thirty minutes, as per usual,” Shawn replied simply. “It’s been a week, and I’m sorry to say, you’re going to have to get used to this for now.”
Matthew rose quickly and made his way to the bathroom to get ready for the day, humming happily to himself.
“Matthew, stop being such a morning person,” Taze groaned.
Matthew couldn’t help but chuckle in response as he closed the door.
“All right, come on now. We both know the alternatives to this,” Shawn commented. “Let’s at least be ready for them.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Taze shrugged and yawned again.
With the change of the guard came an accompaniment of clothes specially ordered on the Princesses’ command. The basic designs of the clothing remained relatively unaltered, barring a few more practical applications. Matthew’s new pants came with enhanced padding and leather sewn into the knees and at the elbows for added utility and protection of joints. Taze’s garments carried a new purple sheen with the helpful addition of young drake scales to grant an added layer of protection against heat and other projectile-based attacks. Shawn’s garments remained unaltered, save for the fact that a different number of colors were incorporated into his replacement garments to grant him the choice of variety while still complementing his coat.
“And here I was hoping for something more casual,” Shawn remarked with a sigh. “Though the black and red variant of my coat they added feels quite ominous.”
“Who would even think red and black goes well together?” Matthew remarked as he looked over his new outfit. Much like the original, it followed a camouflaged theme. “Though I like the padding. It’ll help if I have to crawl to the next defensive line.”
“Red and black work together fine. It’s just that in the context of the coat, it’s ominous,” Shawn replied simply.
“This purple seems familiar, but it’s not bad,” Taze noted.
“At least we’ve got some new clothes.” Shawn gave a small smile. “The spells helped out, but I’d rather change into something different.”
“I agree,” Matthew said as he stretched to feel the new fabric caress his skin. There's just something nice about changing into a new set of clothing.”
In the dining hall, the humans were treated to a wide variety of dishes from eggs to pancakes and waffles to bacon and more. As usual, Taze ate with gusto. Shawn and Matthew were more reserved with their food, and Celestia was yet to be seen. Their guards, however, made sure to keep a close eye on them, even as some few turned their heads aside at the sight of the meat being eaten.
At last, the double doors opened, and Celestia entered the hall carrying three amulets shaped like horseshoes. The metal that formed the prime base of the amulets was etched in a multitude of runes so small that the ridges felt almost like braille to the touch. The alloy seemed to flash between a bronze-like gold and a blueish-black depending on how the light struck. A number of high quality gemstones were embedded into the molding, as if they had been immersed in the frame itself when the mold was cast, and each seemed to flicker with a dull light.
“Gentlemen,” Celestia greeted them. “Allow me to present you with these.” The amulets each flew in front of the diners and hovered in front of their faces. Closer inspection revealed each was supported by a fine metal chain that appeared almost invisible to the naked eye. “Once the spell becomes active, the runes will meld with the metal to create a properly smooth surface. Your words will sound like ours and vice versa.”
“What about reading and writing?” Taze asked.
Celestia nodded. “So long as they’re within range of the amulet, your writing should translate to Equish. The effect will wear off, however, once the writing is out of range. I admit that my understanding of your written language may have somewhat of an impact on how that translation carries through, however, since my knowledge had to act as the primer….”
“And what is your knowledge for language?” Matthew asked, confused. “Because the writing is different.”
“That’s what I meant, Matthew. As I informed Lord Shawn, I had dalliances with your kind once, a very long time ago, and I’ve no idea if the world I visited is the same as yours. It’s a miracle that I encountered the same species and that your languages are so comparable. However, based on what we’ve seen of your memories, your world is far more advanced than what I experienced in my time there. It’s likely that any spelling that’s translated from Equish will be after the manner of writing that I learned at that time. And language has evolved a great deal here in Equestria since then. I can only assume that the same would hold true for your world and its development.”
“True enough.” Shawn nodded. “So, just put it on and it’ll do the rest?”
Celestia nodded. “Try it out.”
Shawn simply gave a light shrug before placing his around his neck and resting it comfortably around his outfit. The others soon followed suit, and the magic holding them up dissipated.
“Now to determine how effective it is,” Shawn said.
“I’d call that a success on the speech, at least,” Celestia said.
“Thank you, Princess,” Taze said, bowing his head.
Celestia nodded. “I do have a favor to ask in return for this service, however, if you’re willing to indulge me.”
“I make a point of agreeing to nothing until I know the details,” Taze said.
“I agree with my friend here. It’s a foolish man who agrees to what he cannot see,” Matthew said.
“It’s not some great task, like hunting after a monster or meeting a foreign dignitary.” Celestia giggled. “Though I suppose the latter has already happened several times over.” She regained her composure as she sat on her own chair and began to partake. “I want to introduce the three of you to my student and her friends. We’re expecting them to arrive in the capital today by train for her brother’s wedding.”
“A strange request,” Shawn added with a raised brow. “And a wedding would explain everything going on around here….”
“Indeed,” Celestia agreed. “As I’m certain you’re aware, the marriages of high-profile individuals are often rife with attempts ranging anywhere from political assassination to espionage and more. It’s my desire to keep such things to the minimum for Captain Armor’s sake and the sake of his family.”
“I can see that logic,” Matthew said.
Taze coughed wildly, having only just managed to avoid a spit take.
“Are you all right?” Celestia asked the pretend hunter.
“Sorry. Just some water went down the wrong pipe,” Taze said in a raspy tone as he struck his chest a few times with his fist.
Celestia nodded. “Of course. Please, take the time you need to recover.” And with that said, she turned her attention to Shawn. “So, will you come?”
“I suppose I can clear a spot in my busy schedule.” Shawn gave a brief chuckle. “I’d be honored.”
Celestia nodded. “Excellent. We’ll meet them in the throne room.”
Matthew grinned wide as they all heard the faint sound coming from an open window in the throne room. “Oh! What engine configuration was that one?” he asked Moonshade as he gripped the window sill and stuck his head through the portal.
“You have an unhealthy obsession,” Moonshade commented flatly.
Celestia chuckled. “Don’t we all have a few of those, Moonshade? Mine happens to be cake. And if I recall correctly, didn’t you—?”
Moonshade cleared her throat. “Yes. Your point is well made, Princess,” she said, looking to the side.
It was at this point that the double doors flung open to reveal a very familiar set of Ponies. One bright blue mare flitted about with ease as her mane and tail flowed behind her. The purple one seemed preoccupied as they passed into the great room. The creamy white mare with a perfectly coiffed mane flicked it back glamorously and beamed. A simple orange-coated mare with a tail and mane both tied at the ends by elastic bands strode forward with a stetson sitting firmly atop her head at a jaunty angle suitable to the country stereotype that she embodied. A pale yellow mare with a pink mane trotted in softly beside her friends and looked nervously as she smiled at the guards. A bubble-gum pink mare literally sprang across the floor, complete with sound effects from no perceivable location whatsoever. A small purple dragon strode beside the purple mare, smiled, and waved as they entered the throne room.
“Hi, Princess Celestia,” the young drake greeted. Then he paused and stared at the three strange creatures, one of which was retracting itself from the window. “Woah. Who’re those guys?”
Celestia smiled. “Spike, girls, I’d like to introduce you to our guests, Lord Shawn, Huntsman Taze, and Matthew Conner.” She motioned to each of the men respectively. “They are members of a species Equestria hasn’t encountered before. They call themselves—”
“Please don’t say it,” Twilight muttered under her breath.
“—Humans.”
Twilight groaned and promptly facehoofed.
“She said it,” Spike said, thus completing the ritual formula.
“Am I missing something here?” Celestia asked curiously.
“A friend of ours back in Ponyville’s looked into a lot of mythology,” Applejack commented, rubbing the back of her head. “One in particular is always the center of attention, if ya catch my drift.”
“What she’s trying to say, Your Highness, is Lyra Heartstrings is going to be rubbing our visitors’ existence in our faces for … the foreseeable future, to put it diplomatically, once she learns of them,” Rarity explained.
“I see,” Celestia said in that placid manner that all teachers seemed to conjure when there was no other reaction available.
“Well, I mean, she was right!” Pinkie pie said as she bounced in place.
“And I assume you want to greet our guests properly, Pinkie Pie?” Celestia chuckled. “Go on. I’m sure they won’t mind.”
A Pony-shaped cloud of dust was what Celestia found herself speaking to as the Pony in question moved between the three humans, greeting them with what must have been words but they were spoken at a pace that was hard for most to understand.
“W-wha—?” Matthew asked in utter confusion. “Just...?” After images of Pinkie Pie seemed to follow him wherever he stared or blinked. “What?”
“Yes, definitely,” Taze said happily and seemingly perfectly understanding her speech. He held out a hand and, to the amazement of everyone present, he and Pinkie proceeded to do a perfectly synched secret handshake that lasted a full two minutes.
“What?” Matthew asked again at the end of it. “I, ….” He looked to the others. “Wha?” he whined again.
“Ex Divinia etiam,” Shawn muttered to himself. “This is going to be interesting….”
“Woah.… Where’d you learn that, and how can you teach me?” Rainbow Dash asked excitedly as she zoomed into Taze’s face.
“Huh?” Taze looked up. “We just improvised that.” He shrugged.
“Yeah, Dashie. That just happened,” Pinkie added.
“I don’t know whether to be impressed or scared at how well those two did that,” Twilight said.
“Now, now, darling. You know the rules when it comes to Pinkie Pie,” Rarity chided gently.
Twilight sighed and rolled her eyes. “It’s Pinkie Pie. Don’t question it.”
“It’s nice to meet you all,” Taze offered. “Princess Celestia has said nothing but good things about all of you.”
Matthew nodded his head along with Taze.
“Indeed.” Shawn gave a small smile before nodding. “A pleasure to meet you all.”
“They are to be Luna’s and my special guests for the wedding. They have also expressed a desire to be properly prepared for the ceremony. If the six of you are willing and able during your other duties for the wedding, I would like you to enlist their aid.” She looked meaningfully toward the trio. “I’m certain they would be only too happy to assist.”
Celestia smiled kindly at the mare. “You’ll have our complete support in your duties, Twilight. Don’t you worry. For now, I’m certain that you all must be tired from your journey. Let’s get you to your guestrooms, so you can freshen up.”
Rarity beamed. “What an excellent idea! A lady should always look her absolute best when she works on a wedding, especially for one as important as this!” She squealed softly. “I can hardly wait for us to have our pre-wedding makeovers!”
“Ah can hardly wait,” Applejack muttered as she rolled her eyes.
“Thanks for helping me out with this again,” Twilight said as she looked up at the human. “It must be a little overwhelming after everything you’ve been through to get thrown into all of this.”
“It keeps me occupied,” Shawn replied as he looked around. “Better than sitting idle, to be honest, though I anticipated more.”
“My friends and I are pretty efficient when we get together on a project. Applejack’s one of the hardest workers I know, and she puts everything into her work.” She chuckled. “I hope you like apples. I can guarantee you won’t be getting away without trying some of her baking.” Then she sighed heavily.
“Well, it’s a good thing I like apples. Though, I haven’t tried any from this world, so….” Shawn shrugged.
“I guess that means any food you try here really would be out of this world for you, then, wouldn’t it?”
Shawn slowly turned toward Twilight with a raised brow.
“I mean, since you’re not … in your world anymore?”
“I got it. Don’t worry about that,” Shawn replied before turning his attention forward. “Sorry, but I’m not much of a pun person.”
“Duly noted,” Twilight said. “Then … what kind of a person are you?”
Shawn blinked a few times. “Well, uh, that’s an open question. A little difficult to answer.”
“Then why don’t you tell me a little about yourself, instead, and I can tell you a little about me.”
“Well, I suppose I could start with my previous occupation? I was a carpenter. Owned my own shop and everything.”
“Really? I thought you were a noble, though.”
“What, I couldn’t own a shop?” Shawn chuckled. “I’m very hands on when it comes to work.”
“Isn’t that usually frowned on where you’re from? Most of the nobles here wouldn’t want to have anything to do with that kind of trade unless it was an investment.”
“From what I’ve gathered, the nobility here are … very much looking out for themselves, and nobody else.” He gave a small shrug. “Not all of them, but … you get what I mean.”
“And it’s not like that for the nobles on your world?”
Shawn opened his mouth to say something before he hummed in thought. “No, you know what, that’s still a close approximation. Let’s just settle with it’s quite different where I come from.”
“It must be strange adjusting to living here, then. Was there much of a culture shock?”
“The language barrier was quite interesting, since our written languages are almost exact, apart from it being different characters, but our speech is drastically different.”
“How did you cope?”
“Honestly,” Shawn frowned. “I think I’ve taken it best out of our group. I didn’t get hit by any immense feelings, or at least I haven’t yet. The worst case I’ve felt is almost like someone is constantly watching me. That, and the waking nightmares that I can’t recall anything about.”
“Maybe Princess Luna can help you with those. She’s great at fighting nightmares.” She sighed, and her ears drooped. “Maybe she can help fix this one.”
Shawn glanced around them briefly. “Feeling like something isn’t right?”
“I don’t want to be the angry baby sister, but … Cadance just isn’t being the Cadance I remember. She feels … colder. We used to be so close when I was growing up. Now I find out she’s a princess, and she’s going to marry my big brother, and I literally only just got the letter a day ago! And don’t even get me started on my brother. I still can’t believe he never told me they were dating!”
“It certainly sounds like something’s wrong.” Shawn nodded. “Considering how much Celestia praised you and your friends, I’m going to give you a little tip. Try to keep things quiet, all right? She’ll tell you more if she thinks you need to know.”
“You mean Princess Celestia? What else would she need to tell me? Are you saying there’s something she hasn’t told me about this wedding yet?” The mare’s breathing began to hitch as her eyes bulged ever so slightly. “Is it me? Did I do something to make it so people can’t trust me? Am I a threat to national security? Am I—?”
Shawn placed a hand on Twilight’s back. “Calm down. Deep breaths. You can stress about it later. She just might think it’s not important for you to know. That doesn’t mean she doesn’t trust you. It means she thinks other things are a higher priority for you.”
Twilight followed the human’s advice, taking deep breaths in time to the gentle urgings of Shawn’s hands brushing along her back. In due course, she regained control as her heart rate slowed and she emerged into the real world again. She smiled sheepishly. “Sorry about that. I … can get a little crazy sometimes when I worry too much over something. Thanks for pulling me back.”
“No problem. Anxiety gets the better of all of us sometimes. How about for now, we just focus on that list of yours, eh?”
Twilight nodded. “Keep me from going too far?” she asked.
“I’ll try, but you’re the one with magic.”
She cocked her head in confusion. “Don’t you have some, too?”
“No, but we’ll cover that later. Higher priorities at the moment and all that.”
Twilight nodded. “I guess we should get started, then. Do you already know the way to the kitchens? I can guide you, if you need.”
“I’ve got a general layout of things. I take it that's first on the list?”
Twilight nodded. “Let’s get to work.”
The kitchens were a flurry of activity, noise, and smells as the cooks dashed around to go about their various tasks under Applejack’s direction. The warm scent of cinnamon, sugar, spice, pastry, and apples blended together in a heady cloud that was guaranteed to stir the appetite of anyone that smelled it and draw them floating along the air to sample just one bite. A multi-tiered cake sat off to the side, waiting to have the last touches piped on the top portion via stepping ladder. Spike sat atop one of the counters playing with the two figurines that would sit at the top of the cake while Twilight followed the blur that was Applejack, checking off her list as the mare bustled from place to place.
Matthew was helping by writing down notes, organizing items, and otherwise acting as a general gopher for the chefs who couldn’t really leave their stations. He smiled and waved his greetings to Shawn and Twilight as they entered the room before rushing to another station as a mare called him by name.
Applejack dashed to the top of the cake as Twilight levitated her list. The final touches of frosting were applied, and the mare quickly listed it off, followed by Twilight’s confirmation. Likewise, this carried through for the final pick against an elegant ice sculpture shaped like a heart and the stuffing of two exceptionally tasty homemade bite-sized apple fritters into the human and Unicorn’s mouths.
Twilight licked her lips. “Mmm. Check.”
“I can confirm that,” Shawn added.
Spike deepened his voice as much as possible as he pantomimed the wedding ceremony between the figures of Shining Armor and Cadance, causing the two to kiss before Twilight fixed him with a reproving stare and levitated the figures onto the countertop while the Dragon smiled sheepishly.
At that moment, the doors to the kitchens creaked open to admit a bright pink Alicorn with shades of pink, purple, and gold streaming along her mane. Unlike Celestia and Luna, there was no ethereal quality in it, but the crown atop her head and the wings at her side widely proclaimed to all exactly what she was. Her face was a formal mask as Applejack hailed her, to which she replied, “Please, call me Princess Mi Amore Cadenza.”
Applejack didn’t even miss a beat as she adopted the requested mode of address with her same chipper attitude. “You come to check out what’s on the menu for your big day?”
Cadance bore her teeth in a wide smile that didn’t seem to reach her eyes. “I have.” Her gaze traveled to the two humans. “Though I notice that we have some new helpers here. I assume these are our unexpected guests?”
Matthew nodded. “That is correct, Your Majesty.”
This time, the Alicorn’s smile seemed more genuine, though the light in her eyes was colder than expected. “You flatter me, but I am no queen.” She giggled. “Except maybe to Shining Armor.”
“My apologies. Where I come from, we have no royalty. We elect all our leaders by vote, so I went with what little I recalled.”
Cadance frowned. “You really do hail from a strange land, don’t you?” Then she flicked her head and sighed. “Ah, well. It is what it is. And what of the tall silent one?”
“Lord Shawn, Miss. A pleasure,” Shawn replied with a small nod.
Cadance raised a brow. “Then the leaders that your people elect … become nobility?”
“It’s quite a different system from here, I can assure you of that,” he replied with a small grin.
Matthew ground his teeth at what Shawn said, but one glance from Shawn signaled him to keep quiet.
“Then I suppose we will have to refer to one another by our respective titles, Lord Shawn.” The mare’s teeth almost seemed to clack as she bit off the last of the name’s pronunciation.
“I’m sure we can manage this, Princess Cadenza. Would you not agree, Dame Twilight Sparkle?” Shawn replied, turning toward Twilight with a knowing grin.
Twilight jumped at the mention of the title, and Applejack’s eyes widened simultaneously as the mare blushed. “Shawn!”
“Why, we must be respectful to one another, would you not agree? If titles must be necessary, then I must ensure equal grounds are founded amongst us all. It would be rude otherwise, and I couldn’t allow that.”
“And what should I call you?” the princess asked as she turned back to Matthew. “I don’t believe you introduced yourself.”
“I did not see a good time to do so, Princess.” He smiled. “You can call me Matthew.”
“I see.” She nodded. “Well, then, now that we’ve all been introduced, I suppose it’s only proper to return to the business at hoof. I still have a very busy schedule that needs following to prepare for the wedding, after all. And I’m certain you all still have plenty of work you want to do as well.”
“Of course.” Matthew looked to Applejack and Twilight. “If you’d come this way, we have about sixteen different treats prepared for you to taste, and your feedback would be helpful for the kitchen staff.”
“R-right.” Applejack turned her attention back to the spread. “If ya’ll’d like to start over here,” she directed to the beginning.
The samples included a slice from the test batch of the wedding cake, the apple fritters, apple crullers, bear claws, apple pie, apple dumplings, apple cider, apple souffle, apple cobbler, apple crisp, apple cake, and many many more. In total, the sampling exceeded the initial sixteen that Matthew had mentioned, since Applejack wanted to get the princess’ feedback on which of the dishes she preferred over the others.
Matthew smiled as he worked at a small stove before carrying over a fresh tray of apples covered in caramel, chocolate, and a cherry-flavored candy coating. “And if you would allow my humble submission, these are from my father’s dessert recipes. You can eat them on your way to your next destination.”
“Delicious,” Cadance said with a semi-smile. “I love, love, love them. I … honestly can’t decide which dish I like better.” She let out a weak chuckle. “Um, perhaps I could take mine to go instead, Matthew?”
“Sure. Let me put them in a bag for you.”
When the treat was properly secured, along with others that Applejack insisted the mare take, she bid them all a curt farewell and strode out the door with bag in magical grip. As the doors closed behind her in a magical grip, Twilight couldn’t help but notice the sight of a brown blur flying past the window.
“Did you see what—?” She trailed off. The business of the kitchens had seemingly pulled away all the attention of the occupants to their tasks, leaving just herself and Shawn.
“Yeah, … that was definitely the bag,” Shawn muttered to Twilight.
“I can’t believe she’d do that.” Twilight sighed and shook her head. “That definitely isn’t the Cadance I know.” Then she shook her head vigorously and stamped her hoof to clear her mind. “Let’s move on to the dresses. Applejack seems to have everything under control here.”
“Indeed.” Shawn frowned as he moved toward the exit. “From everything I’ve heard about her, I would have thought it was someone else.”
The sunlight continued to beam through the protective barrier as Celestia gazed on the castle and the remainder of the capital with the use of her telescope. Meanwhile, in the fitting room Rarity had turned into her workshop, the mare was hard at work sewing, trimming, and otherwise preparing the gowns that would be worn by the bride and her bridesmaids.
“Oh, you should have seen how she acted back there.” Twilight paced angrily back and forth as she monologued. “I don’t know when she changed, but she changed.” She raised her hooves daintily and cast her eyes up as she put on a posh accent. “Please, call me Princess Mi Amore Cadenza.” The mare was caught short, however, when a familiar voice carried into the room.
“Did I hear someone say my name?”
Cadance was trailed behind by three mares as she entered the space. She took in Twilight and Rarity with a glance as Rarity zipped in front of the mare as quickly as she could manage.
“Your Highness!” Rarity bowed swiftly. “Let me just start by saying what an honor it is to play a role in such a momentous occasion.” She chuckled nervously as she bowed again.
Cadance was not impressed. “Uhuh. Is my dress ready?” she asked as she strolled past the genuflecting mare. What followed was what can only be described as a savage takedown of Rarity’s ego, followed by a vicious cowing of the dissenting voices of her bridesmaids before strolling promptly out of the chamber. The three mares fled almost like sheep before a wolf.
“Gee. Maybe her name should be Princess Demandypants,” Twilight groused as she strode to a wardrobe and shot a beam of magic from her horn. The image of the wardrobe wavered, then dissipated to reveal Shawn. “Thanks for doing that. I … don’t think you’re ready for a Lyra freakout just yet.”
“Fair enough,” Shawn replied, brushing off his coat.
“If the two of you don’t mind, I’m afraid I’ve got several hours’ more work on my hooves. I’ll see you later at the cafe, darling,” Rarity promised. “And Lord Shawn, thank you for helping us out like this. It really is quite generous of you. And chivalrous, too.”
“The pleasure is mine.” Shawn gave a smile before nodding. After a moment, he turned to Twilight. “If you’ve already checked everything off here, where are we headed next?”
“The main hall,” Twilight said as they departed from the room. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to try to avoid being seen this time. I want to see how she acts when I’m not around.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Shawn replied simply as he clasped his hands behind him in a gentlemanly manner. “Lead the way.”
“So we’ve discussed the games,” Pinkie said excitedly. As she finished her presentation, she hurried over to a corner where a board game lay and rolled the dice. “And the dances!” She instantly moved toward a gramophone and set it to play polka music while dancing on her hind hooves and flapping her forelegs like a chicken. “I think this reception is gonna be perfect! Don’t you?”
Cadance looked taken aback at first by the sheer exuberance and energy put forth by the mare. But she quickly recovered her wits and smiled widely, exposing all of her eyes in a pantomime of Pinkie Pie’s own style. “Perfect!” she cried in an upbeat tone which was swiftly quashed by the biting words that followed with her haughty steps. “If we were celebrating a six-year-old’s birthday party.”
Taze noticed Pinkie ignore the comment with a sincere and wide-eyed, “Thank you!” and decided not to let that pass.
“Well excuuuuuuse me, Princess! You’re right. We should redo this. A six-year-old’s birthday party is way too much.” He fixed her with a deadeye stare. “Since you're acting like a five year old.”
The record scratched on the player as Cadance turned around. “Excuse me?”
“Very well. You’re excused. Maybe show some grace next time. Respect is earned, not given,” Taze said, turning from her.
“Taze, it’s fine! It’s just stress,” Pinkie said.
Cadance’s gaze narrowed. “Yes,” she said slowly. “And stress I would rather not have get worse with everything else I’m trying to juggle. It’s bad enough how the mana drain is affecting Shining. I have to perform regular healing spells and mana transfusions to ensure he can keep up the barrier. There’s the rehearsals to plan for, reservations to confirm, floor plans to certify, and that’s only the tiIp of the iceberg….”
Taze giggled while performing a slow clap. “So, basically, you decided to have your wedding ceremony in the middle of a threat and, rather than delegating like a leader does, you piled it all on your own plate, then blamed it for your actions. The best part of which being that you're overplaying it.” He shook his head. “Lady, I have five uncles and an aunt on my mother’s side. I’ve been to each of their weddings. I’ve been part of planning three of them. I have seen women who do not handle stress well have to handle the same stress you’re handling with my grandmother breathing down their neck, and the worst of them didn’t act a third as badly as you.”
“I’m sorry. I wasn’t aware that your family was several thousand members large!” Cadance snapped.
“Lady, I’ve got family in places I haven’t even heard of before. But that's not the point. You have a wedding planner. There is no feasible reason you need to be dogging their every step. You have people to do these jobs for your people. The taste testing, yes. The dress? Yes. Those I can understand. Everything else? You could have handled all of that through Twilight and never had to stress once. Lets not forget the mountains of magical healers in this city. You could have your fiance accompanied by a qualified expert to keep him going at all hours, but you choose to take it on yourself. You don’t get the pity party if you're the one who organizes it. That’s life,” Taze said. “You can tell a lot about someone by the way they treat those who work beneath them. And lady, you’ve given me an anthology. Hell, you’ve given me a whole library.”
Cadance growled, and her horn glowed green briefly as her temper flared.
A cleared throat yanked the Princess’ glare away from the human. “Princess Cadance, I do have to inform you that, under your Aunt’s orders, we will be forced to take down anyone who shows aggressive behavior toward the visitors,” Moonshade noted as two other Thestrals traced the hafts of their spears. “Even amongst the royal family.”
Cadance grit her teeth, then closed her eyes and forced herself to regain, at the very least, a semblance of composure. “Thank you. Given the circumstances, I think it would be best if I were to take my leave.” She glared back at Taze. “Good day, human.”
“And to you, Pony,” Taze returned with a half smirk.
Cadance stormed out with a scowl that could melt the stained glass off the hall.
Pinkie seemed unsure how to feel about what just happened as she stared at Taze. He just shrugged. “Hey, sometimes people need to draw a line.”
“With how much that line has been stomped on, it was only a matter of time, really,” Shawn commented as he stepped out of concealment from behind one of the pillars.
“Well, I'm nobody's doormat,” Taze noted as he walked over to Shawn and held up an open palm. “You have to admit, I was awesome.”
Shawn gave a brief laugh before returning the high five. “It was certainly grand.”
Twilight smiled from her place behind a separate pillar as she checked off another mark on the list. “It sure was,” she said quietly to herself.
The night stars twinkled in the filmy pink of the magical barrier protecting the castle and the surrounding capital, but rather than the comforting chirp of crickets, the clank of horseshoe and armor reverberated with the sound of guards on patrol. Up in their tower guestroom, the three humans circled their fire, toasting marshmallows on sticks. Moonshade watched them carefully as the trio worked slowly into the massive supply of chocolate, graham crackers, and the fluffy white masses.
“So, Cadance. She’s a bit of a…?” Taze looked to the others with a raised eyebrow.
“Pushy mare that’s doing her utmost to make everyone’s lives miserable while also trying to stay in everyone’s good graces?” Matthew asked.
“She’s a bitch, yeah,” Shawn confirmed. “And drastically different from every account of her that I’ve heard of.”
Moon shade seemed momentarily stunned by Shawn’s words, but then shrugged.
Matthew frowned. “Do we even want to use that kind of language here, Shawn? I mean, the Diamond Dogs are a thing, aren’t they?” He turned to Moonshade. “Would that be considered racist or speciesist or whatever you call the equivalent here?”
“Not like we’re being censored, Matthew.” Taze sighed. “Anyway, anyone else suspicious of her?”
“It feels like most of the staff keep making excuses for her. The bridesmaids seemed a little worried, though,” Matthew noted. “They came by the kitchen for some snacks to cheer themselves up. Something about their dresses, I think.”
“Well, I mean, she’s pushing a wedding during a crisis,” Taze noted. “Seems like a good way to divert resources.”
“It does make me wonder, though,” Shawn muttered. “If she was replaced, I thought Changelings couldn’t exceed their weight? From what we were told, it’d be normal sized pony replacements. And there being only three alicorns would make it more of a special case, wouldn’t it?”
“Can multiple Changelings combine their efforts? You know, like how we do with certain costumes back home?” Matthew asked.
“I honestly don’t know,” Moonshade responded. “Little is actually known about how Changelings work.”
“Seriously? As in not common knowledge now? Or you have nothing about them at all?” Taze asked.
“I have heard there is some information about them written in certain books, but nothing that's common knowledge.”
“Shouldn't that become somewhat more common, given the fact that they’re the current threat?” Matthew asked. “An ancient philosopher from our world once said it is best to know thine enemy.” He quickly pulled his marshmallow from the fire and blew it out before smashing it between the two crackers to melt against the chocolate, then took a bite and shuddered in delight. “How is it that everything here tastes so much better than back home?”
“Theoretically? It’s all naturally grown and made,” Taze said. “Preserved with magic, rather than chemicals.”
Shawn sighed as he rubbed the side of his head. “This whole situation is going to be a nightmare to deal with. Doesn’t help that we’re going to be roped into this somehow, as Celestia has seen fit to have us participate in the preparations for said wedding.”
“Probably as a gambit,” Matthew guessed as he wiped some remnants of marshmallow off his cheek. “We’re the wild cards, since they don’t know anything about us and can’t replace us. The unknown always makes the villain uneasy.”
“Yes, but it also makes them notice us,” Taze noted.
“So we’re acting as decoys, too, then?”
“We’re a distraction,” Shawn agreed. “We’re being used.”
“I’d say the princess wouldn’t do that, but she would.” Moonshade sighed. “It would be a decent plan if we had a decent fighting force.”
“From the sounds of it, you don’t,” Shawn replied flatly. “Yet we’re still being put out with a target on our backs.”
“How much have you figured out about the current political climate?” Moonshade asked.
“I, myself, have been given some information. Not plenty, but enough to figure things out on a basic level.”
“Well, for starters, our politics is meant to be a diarchy, ruled by both princesses equally. Unfortunately, that hasn’t been the case for a very long time,” Moon shade explained, before roughly outlining the events of Nightmare Moon and what led up to it. “These days, Luna is princess in name only to all but the Thestrals and perhaps some few of the nobility. Unfortunately, it was Princess Luna who was the militarily inclined one of the two. Celestia is a great politician, but she has no taste for the martial aspects of running a country. She believes her Royal Guard are competent enough to protect her people, but she is gravely overestimating them.”
“Even Captain Shining Armor?” Matthew asked. “It seems like he’s proving to be quite an asset with this shield spell of his.”
“And you haven’t wondered about why we’re relying so heavily on a shield spell?” Moonshade asked. “That armor and the spears are shiny, but few if any of those guards know how to wield them.”
Matthew frowned. “Speaking of wielding, would it be possible to set up time for me to practice with that crossbow? I’d rather get familiar with it before any potential conflict starts.”
“We’ll have to see what can be done about that,” Moonshade said. “For now, you three need to be aware of what's going on.”
“You mean more than what Princess Luna already revealed?”
“Did she reveal her sister’s own political movements?” Moonshade asked.
“No, she didn’t. Has she authorized you to fill us in, then?”
“She’s authorized me to do what it takes to keep you alive,” Moonshade noted.
“Considering the current situation, and the fact that I’m positive the ‘bride’ definitely has it out for us, we’re going to need it,” Shawn commented.
Matthew couldn’t help but give a little smile. “She did kind of have it coming, though. Did you really call her out like that, Taze?”
“I’m nobody's doormat,” Taze said, shrugging.
“So, what do we do now, then? Just keep our eyes and ears open while trying to figure out what’s up with the princess?” Matthew asked.
“If anything becomes apparent, I've been instructed to take you to Princess Luna at any time.”
“A sound strategy,” Matthew noted as he completed the next s’more. Then he proffered it to the mare. “Care to share? Or would that be considered a bribe?” he asked with a hint of a smirk.
The wedding hall where the ceremony was to take place was tastefully decorated. A light cream and gold bunting draped all over the ceiling and reached with stretches of cloth to curve against the columns on approach from the double doors. A massive chandelier acted as the focal point for the decoration while candles burned in equally spaced holders on either side of the columns to provide mood lighting. A pair of Unicorn guards stood on either side of the double doors to fulfill their duty of opening the way for the bride to enter through a second hall that had been decorated with bouquets of flowers in holders that were mounted on the columns themselves. A long red carpet with golden edges flowed through the two chambers, leading up to the dais and a green wedding arch accentuated by a number of floral arrangements tastefully employed. Much like the other hall, the columns here were also decorated with plant fixtures that acted as points of contact to bind more bunting together. Two pots sat on either side of the staircase with twin draping cloths on either side to provide symmetry. As a final touch, at Cadance’s request, the windows were fitted with temporary stained glass settings to enhance the mood of the wedding and further stress the bond of their marriage.
The five mares had lined up in place on the stairwell to await Cadance’s arrival, as was required and proper for them. The three humans stood a ways off between a pair of columns, close enough to witness the action, but not so close as to interfere with the proceedings. Shining Armor stood at the top with Celestia and Spike. All were ready for the practice ceremony to proceed.
It was elegant, refined, yet simple. In short, it was the perfect scene for a royal wedding. Indeed, it would have been perfect if not for the forceful intrusion of one extremely aggressive purple Unicorn bursting into the hall. Twilight Sparkle denounced Cadance with intense heat, leaving a stunned silence to sift like ash in her wake as the princess fled. And like the cold wind that often follows behind such burn-outs, Twilight’s friends, brother, and mentor soon followed.
The three humans watched with varying reactions from stony-faced to gobsmacked as the fallout settled.
Tears swam in the purple mare’s eyes. She hastily blinked them away as she gazed at the doors. “Maybe I was being overprotective….”
Taze’s fist clenched as he watched. “This isn’t right,” he growled. Turning for the door, he half-ran, half-stomped after the others. He grabbed the door as he passed through. Seeing the retreating party in the distance, he threw the door back with all the power he could muster, willing it to slam loud enough that the whole damned city would hear it.
“Matthew, go after him, would you? Make sure he doesn’t go too crazy on them,” Shawn asked. “Neither of us will stop him, but try to at least calm him.”
Matthew looked at Shawn and Twilight, torn between the desire to comfort and the desire to make peace. “Yeah, I guess I should go and try to be the diplomat,” he agreed. “Will you keep an eye on Twilight?”
Shawn nodded. And with that confirmation, Matthew strode hastily to the doors. “Here’s hoping Taze doesn’t start a war,” he muttered as he pulled the portal open. The sheer weight of the wood surprised him, and he wondered how Taze could have built up the momentum to slam them so heavily.
Moonshade followed closely behind, choosing to keep with the majority of the group. At the door, she paused to look back at Shawn, and then to Twilight. “Twilight Sparkle, I don’t know the details behind what transpired, but I do know the orders I have to follow. I can’t be in two places at once, and you are titled as a defender of the realm under Celestia’s authority. As such, I must remand Lord Shawn into your protective custody until a guard can be sent to replace you. Guard him to your utmost.”
“But—”
“There can be no buts here, Lady Sparkle. Even in heartache, a warrior and a hero must pursue their duty. I am calling you to do yours. He is in your care.” With that, the mare departed, and once more the loud doors closed behind, leaving only the two.
After a moment, Shawn sighed. “Emotions are certainly high,” he muttered, resting his hand on the hilt of his sword, the other on his hip. “Deep breaths, Twilight. Forward momentum is to be kept. Looking back won’t help.”
Twilight sputtered. “That’s what I call the understatement of the year.” She sighed. “But I suppose she’s right. I have to keep an eye on you, at least until we can find another guard to take over. Though I guess it’s more like babysitting, all things considered. Without the immature toddler part.”
Shawn raised a brow at the comments before shrugging. “I guess I’ve heard worse. I doubt we’ll find a member of the Night Guard for some time, though, so you’re stuck with me for a while. Sorry to say.”
“I’m sure we can figure something out.” Twilight smiled weakly, sniffled, and wiped her eyes. “So, I guess we should get going. Can’t sit here and mope all day, right? Where did you want to go first?”
“Can’t leave the castle walls, so not many places to go. You know that,” Shawn replied dismissively before shrugging.
“Is there anywhere you haven’t been to in the Castle yet?”
“I suppose I haven’t been to the castle’s library yet. Too much going on and all that.”
Twilight nodded. “Then that’s where we’ll go. Though, for the record, it’s actually called the Royal Archive.” She rose and strode toward the door. “Follow me.”
“Fair enough. I assume you’ve been there plenty of times?”
“Yeah. It’s big at first, but you get used to it pretty fast. I’m sure the librarian will be happy to help you find whatever you need.”
“...Yeah. I suppose working in a library probably burned you out on reading much, huh?” Shawn asked as he felt his chest tighten.
Twilight chuckled. “I suppose sometimes. Usually when I have to keep going after the same reference materials to give to colts and fillies for school.”
Shawn attempted to keep his breathing steady as he looked to the back of Twilight’s head. ‘Ex Divinia etiam…’ His grip tightened on the hilt of his sword as he allowed the unspoken thought to complete itself. ‘That’s, … that’s not her.’
“Hey! What the hell?” Taze bellowed as he caught up to the retreating eight figures. “I thought you were her ‘friends,’” he said, adding air quotes for emphasis.
“We are,” Applejack replied. “But after what Twilight just put the princess through, I reckoned she needed support.”
“You reckon—” Venom dripped from his voice as Taze spoke. “You reckon that the person you don’t even know is worth abandoning a friend who has stuck by you? You value your reputation so much more than those close to you, liar?” He looked at her dead in the eye. “With friends like that, who needs enemies?”
“Woah, woah, woah. Hold up,” Rainbow Dash said as she zipped between the two and nudged him in the chest. “Applejack’s a lot of things, but she’s no liar.”
“What do you call someone who breaks promises, then, traitor?” Taze asked, pushing her hoof away. “And don’t touch me. I'd rather not have to clean this armor again.”
“Pardon me,” Rarity said. “I understand Rainbow Dash can be a bit … unrefined, but she certainly isn’t that dirty.”
“I don’t have a reputation for you to take here, greedy! You’ll need to find another place to further your reputation,” Taze said as he rounded on Rarity.
“Pardon?”
“Oh! I’m sorry. Let me put this in a way you can understand.” Taze cleared his throat dramatically. “Oh, darling, I just simply can’t, darling, i just simply can’t put up with your gold digging right now!” And then, as if to add insult to injury, he leaned in and swiped a single hair out of place in her mane.
“Taze Klim, what is the meaning of this?” Celestia asked.
Taze turned on the diarch and thrust his finger forcefully in her face. “You can shut up for the time being. I’ll get to you in a minute.” He turned back to the group looking Pinkie Pie dead in the eye. “Does it feel good betraying your friend, leaving her to despair, taking her joy from her? By that singular act, you proved just how depressing a person you really are,” he growled.
Pinky took an involuntary step back.
Taze rounded on the last and most soft-spoken member of the party. “And you! The cruelty you showed in that room. The utter horrible cruelty!” He barely held the expletives back and spoke with a voice that was as biting as it was calm. “It makes me sick. Do you kick puppies in your free time as well?”
Fluttershy quailed as the other four clustered around her.
“You five are supposed to be her friends! Do you know what that means? That means you don’t abandon your friend simply because someone more important comes along! Did any of you stop to think? Did any of you pause to maybe give her some inkling of credit? You!” he pointed to Applejack. “How long have you known Princess Cadance?”
Applejack opened her mouth to respond, only for Taze to trample over any hope of a rebuttal.
“I’m guessing since you come from Ponyville and seem utterly uncomfortable with the other nobles around here, not very long. I’d even go so far as to guess that none of you even met her until you arrived. Am I right?” he asked them, then restated the question louder when they stayed quiet.
“And?” Applejack asked defiantly. “Does that give anyone the chance to attack her?”
Taze looked around. “Let’s look at this from the other end of the spectrum. Though I’m surprised you’re even able to try looking there, given how far up your plot your head is stuck right now,” he said acidly. “How long has twilight known Cadance?” He looked around the room. “Anybody?”
“She used to foalsit for her. How else do you think Cadance and I started dating?” Shining pressed as he strode forward aggressively. “Now, are we going to have a problem here?”
“Oh?” Taze laughed a deep dark chuckle, completely disregarding the captain’s question. “She was a babysitter? Really? She looked after children and toddlers prone to freak-outs and temper tantrums, and all of you thought a wedding would push her over the edge? Have any of you actually spent time with a tantruming child? You know what? Don’t answer that. I don’t want to hear your moronic reasoning here. Let's put aside the fact that she should have been going into this with nerves of steel! You know, because a wedding is a freaking cakewalk compared to a bunch of screaming toddlers! In this case, literally!” He took a moment to breathe. “You're telling me that the five of you have better judgment about somebody than a person who spent a significant portion of their life with them. Someone you just met! Please tell me this sounds as stupid to you as it does to me. Give me at least a little hope in your emotional depth outdistancing a soup spoon!”
“European Soup Spoon, I assume,” Matthew said as he approached with Moonshade at his side. He looked anxiously over the gathering.
“Ah, Matthew, good timing,” Taze said as he walked over and wrapped an arm around his friend. “Matthew and I have been friends for a long time. Years, in fact. I’d hide a body if he asked me to. I’d bail him out of prison. Hell, I’d die for him. Because that's what friendship means. It means sticking with someone, no matter what. If you were real friends, the least you could have done was comfort Twilight and offer some kind words before you try to help her come around to your side of thinking. That’s what real friends do. They listen! Honestly, the five of you sicken me with your definition of friendship.”
Matthew swallowed as he looked at the group. “If you’ll pardon the intrusion into the conversation, through the time Taze and other friends and I have spent together, I’ve learned one thing. True friends are there when you have the lowest part. They won’t drop you because you decided to finally stand up for yourself over something. True friendship is the kind that is absolutely worth fighting for, because it may not be easy, but the best ones are forged in the fires of adversity. And if you’ll pardon the frank view of an outsider, it seems the five of you can’t handle those flames.” His voice was neither loud nor terse. It was calm, straightforward, and utterly honest without a hint of partiality.
Taze released his hold on Matthew and turned to Celestia. “But you, you sicken me on a whole other level.”
“And you need to cool your head,” Celestia noted clinically.
“And you need to tell people things they need to know!” Taze shot back. “Honestly, do they even know what the threat is? Does anyone?” Taze gestured to the others in the room. “Have you deemed it fitting to allow the masses to know what they're dealing with? Probably not. You couldn’t even let the three of us know we were being used as bait!”
To the mare’s credit, or perhaps to her detriment, the only visible sign of her surprise came in the minutest widening of her eyes and a subtle shift of her pupils. “Yes, I wanted to lure out our enemy using the three of you, so I put you under a constant guard to ensure your safety,” Celestia said in a sarcastic tone that led the Ponies in the room and one young Dragon to gasp.
“Please, Luna assigned us warriors specifically from her guard for our safety,” Taze shot back with a heat that seared through the bolt she had cast. “God knows cardboard cutouts would have been more effective than your pretty boys over there,” he said as he waved at the two Unicorn solar guards that had followed them.
Moonshade had to suppress a snort.
“You can’t expect people to operate without at least some idea of what they're facing. Tell me. Can your Elements of Harmony serve any purpose split up? Does keeping those closest to you in the dark serve any real purpose? You are playing a terrible game of chess with people's lives! You have alienated your sister, and then you alienated your student! How many more people?”
The floor beneath Celestia’s hoof cracked with the force of the clop as she glared at the human. Her nostrils flared, and the breath that emerged from them was so hot that even in the warm air, it steamed and caused the air to waver. “You know nothing of my relationship to Luna.”
“Then I know everything! I think we both know who has a lot to think about, and it isn’t Twilight Sparkle,” Taze said, not breaking eye contact as he finished the sentence.
After a moment of silence, the maelstrom that was Taze swept quickly back to his friend. “Sorry, Matthew,” he said quietly before turning to Shining Armor and bellowing at the top of his voice. “Tenshun, Dumbass!” he called out, straightening his back and perfecting his posture. In that same instant, Matthew’s whole body went rigid as he mirrored that same posture out of habit.
Shining Armor stiffened briefly, then glared at Taze. “At ease, soldier,” he retorted.
Taze, not being a military man himself, was unaffected and unintimidated. It helped standing at twice the Pony’s height. Even if Shining Armor were to rear up on his hind legs, he still wouldn’t come to the human’s full height. “You're a disgrace to your office and your uniform,” Taze said flatly. “I seriously hope you fight for your pocket, because if that’s how you treat your friends and family, you're better off not fighting for them. That was your sister, your blood! She met you on the first day of her life, and she has loved you ever since. Tell me, do you kiss your mother with the mouth you just used on your sister?”
Shining glared stubbornly at the human. “I won’t apologize.”
“You should be lucky if she gives you the right, let alone a chance,” Taze said. “If she were to die tomorrow and you were to attend her funeral, I’d go so far as to call it a personal insult. Honestly, I don’t know if it’s worse how you treated your family or how you allowed your significant other to tirade without even attempting to reel her in. Where we come from, officers could be punished for their families acting like that if they did nothing to head it off. Tell me, genius, these headaches of yours. How many professionals have you seen about them? Also, when did Cadance get her PhD?”
“I can manage them just fine,” Shining Armor retorted. “And you don’t need a medical license to cast a basic healing spell.”
“No, but if you’re having rapid migraine-class headaches repeatedly over the course of a week, you should see a professional. That's not even a rule. That's common sense, something you seem to lack to a ridiculous degree.”
Shining Armor snorted angrily. “Are we done here? I have a fiance to console.”
“See a Doctor, Shining Armor,” Matthew urged. “Even my military isn’t dumb enough to ignore those kinds of signs. At least yours actually showed up. Mine never did. Listen to what your body is trying to tell you.” He glared. “And they say you’re the head of all military forces?” He looked to Moonshade. “Is all of your military this bullheaded? This is literally a threat to your national security if one of those attacks happen at the wrong time.”
Moonshade shook her head. “No. In fact, standard says he should have seen a healer more than once already.”
“And I have!” Shining said hotly.
“To answer your question, Cadet, yes, we’re done,” Taze said, turning away from the group. “I’m done with all of you. Don’t talk to me, any of you. I wash my hands of you band of traitors and thieves.” He started walking away, stopping only long enough to address the Princess one last time. “Oh, and Celestia?” His lips curved into a cruel smirk. “May you live in interesting times.” And with that cryptic benediction, he strode down the hall and was gone.
Spike looked back and forth, first to Shining Armor stomping angrily toward the opposite branch of the hall, then to the smoldering Celestia, and finally to the mixture of angry, confused, and ashamed that was Twilight’s friends. “I … think I’m going to go get Mom. If anyone will know how to fix this, it’s her.” Spike raced to the hall as fast as his short legs could carry him.
Applejack broke the silence afterward. “Come on, girls. We said we were gonna go check on Cadance, and that’s exactly what we’re gonna do.”
The response that came was less than enthusiastic. Whether the party was willing to admit it or not, Taze’s words had affected them. And those words would continue to haunt them long after he had departed.
Shawn made a mental note at the lack of guards along the halls. While this wasn’t entirely out of the ordinary in the more public portions of the castle, it was highly suspect on the path they now followed. Torches flickered, casting their shadows over the hallways and distorting the fake Twilight’s face as they carried on. The clop of her hooves reverberated loudly in Shawn’s ears, and he couldn’t tell if it was a result of his paranoia and adrenaline or the structure of this particular wing. That paranoia now screamed at him as they ascended yet another stairwell. Unlike the previous passages, this one was less well-tended. Spiders skittered as they formed their webs, and there was no sign of a window that Shawn could see.
He needed a plan, and he needed it now.
If they were being followed, it was far back enough that he couldn’t tell. “Had I known the library was this far, I should have thought of somewhere else,” he remarked, his hand still resting on the hilt of his sword.
“I thought Celestia might prefer us to take a different route. You still draw a lot of attention in the castle, and the royal archives are still technically open to the public.”
“Fair enough.”
They finally reached a single door at the top of the stairwell. Twilight’s horn glowed a muted green, and the door’s frame throbbed sympathetically before the lock came undone and it creaked open. “Through here. We’ll get you where you need to be soon.”
As the pair entered the chamber, the familiar sight of Cadance’s pink, purple, and yellow feathers and mane graced them. Her green eyes flashed, then glowed as she glared balefully at Shawn while the door shut behind them with two palace guards taking posts in front of the door to bar his retreat.
“Lord Shawn. I hope you’ll forgive the little deception, but I thought it was about time you and I had a little chat one on one.” She smiled coldly as she stepped out of the shadows.
“Drop the facade already.” Shawn squinted as he shifted his stance slightly wider. “The others may have fallen for it, but you’re a piss-poor actor.”
Cadance shrugged. “You always get at least one critic.” A circle of green fire erupted around her hooves and, in a flash of light, the princess was gone. The creature that stood in her stead was, surprisingly enough, of comparable height and mass, but that was where the similarities ended. Her Hooves, wings, tail, and mane were punched with holes that made it look as though a swarm of moths had made a buffet of them. Her wings were translucent, like those of an insect, as was her mane and tail, though these were more substantial and less flimsy. Rather than the soft and glossy fur and manes that had been seen on the prismatic Ponies that inhabited the castle, an oily black chitinous carapace formed the majority of her body’s exterior. A sickly blue-green band and shell formed the protective housing that would normally hold those wings in protective storage when not in use. Her horn was long, gnarled, and jagged, like a crooked tree root. Instead of a typical ornament, this creature’s crown sprang from her mane at the base of her head in a ghastly fusion that was part antenna and part chitin, tipped with a number of blue orbs that matched her mane perfectly to simulate crown jewels.
Three more flashes of light followed as Twilight and the two guards swiftly transformed into smaller and less developed versions of the mare. The guards buzzed threateningly as their wings hummed and they glared with mandible helmets that actually clicked together.
“Ex Divinia etiam. I read that you were ugly, but damn,” Shawn remarked.
“You’re one to talk.” The thing that wasn’t Cadance chuckled. “I don’t know what rock you crawled out from under, but you chose a very bad time to reveal yourselves.”
“I’d say it was more a bad time on your end. If your plans go south, you’re supposed to work around, not through,” Shawn replied flatly, taking in the four around him. “I suppose not everyone can make solid plans.”
“Says the pot to the kettle,” the mare gloated. “Let’s cut the chit-chat, shall we? I think we both already know why you’re here.”
“Can’t replace me, so you’re going to get rid of me, yeah,” he said casually. The flutter of his coat was the only warning as the flash of steel glinted, then sliced clean through the chitin at the Changeling that had once been Twilight. The room rang with the clatter of chitin, punctuated by a scream of pain. Green ichor flowed down the drone’s forehead as it stumbled away from the blow.
Shawn barely had the time to react as the two guards charged. The one buzzed angrily overhead, zipping back and forth in a divergent path while jabbing with his spear. The one on the floor followed his companion by attacking from below, thus dividing the human’s attention and making it more difficult for him to parry.
Blow after blow, Shawn parried and dodged as best he could, but it was only a matter of time until the attackers began to find their marks. Tiny nicks dotted his arms and legs, and one particularly deadly blow narrowly missed his face, just grazing him by the cheek as hot blood trickled.
Just as his blood painted the edges of their spears, so, too, did their ichor paint the edges of his blade. Their combined assault winded him, but it was ultimately the action of their companion that finally undid him. Despite her pain, the Changeling mare that had impersonated Twilight managed to crawl behind his legs. And as the dance continued, the human was finally forced to fall backward. So loud had been the clash of steel and wood alongside the rush of blood surging in his ears that he had not heard the subtle ringing tone of magic nor seen the green glow that emanated from the leader’s horn.
As gravity asserted itself, Shawn first felt that curious slowing of time that comes with an adrenaline spike followed shortly after by pressure, and then a heavy jab before he struck the floor. The force of the impact pushed his breath out, even as two spears were leveled at his throat and the haughty laughter of the Changeling who was obviously their leader rang in his ears. Something seeped from his back, causing his shirt and coat to stick.
“Take him to the caves with the others,” she ordered, even as she sneered smugly at him. “Make sure he won’t be able to find the way back.”
“And … there’s your fatal mistake.” Shawn attempted to let out a weak chuckle. “I’m ... not replaceable.”
The Changeling leader smirked. “But you are expendable.” She tossed her head curtly, and then Shawn saw the haft of a spear growing larger and larger, followed by intense pain as it cracked against his skull. The last thing he saw as the light cleared and before the world faded to black was a chunk of wood spinning like a helicopter as it flipped away.
Taze took several deep breaths, attempting to center himself as he walked around the castle. He avoided the Guard as much as he could and this found him strangely walking around more and more remote parts of the castle. He ironically found his mind jumping to the nameless city by Lovecraft and the eerie descriptions of empty stone buildings and the horrors within. He stopped at one part to admire a set of throwing knives mounted on the wall. They were interesting to see because the blades seemed to be shaped artistically like feathers. He found his attention drawn to this for a while before he turned to observe the way forward, trying his best to be quiet as he kept an eye out for Celestia's guards.
The telltale clop of heavy hooves was the only indicator of the creature’s approach. He ducked into a nearby alcove and quickly pulled the curtain shut over it to allow the approaching Pony to pass. A nerve-wracking moment of silence followed as the Pony paused near the curtain. Perhaps it was patrolling. Perhaps it was lost. Or perhaps it was something else. He didn’t know, and he didn’t care. All he knew was he didn’t want to be found right now, and so he held his breath and waited.
It took about a minute before the heavy clop of those hooves began again and gradually receded. Taze sighed in relief, then pulled the curtain aside. The rear of the guard Pony was broad and muscular. His fur coat was a pristine white, and he lacked wings and a horn. But that was clearly made up by the sheer amount of mass he strode down the hall with. However, the most striking thing that drew the human’s attention was neither the mass nor the fur nor even the distinctively unlikely tribe. No, what really pulled Taze’s gaze was the sight of a long dark sheath and a hauntingly familiar guard and hilt. Taze had seen the Ponies’ weapons in their forges. This was most definitely not an Equestrian design.
Now, the sensible thing would have been to question the guard. And earlier in the evening, Taze probably would have gone for that. Right now, however, he was stressed. He was emotionally spent. And now, he wasn’t just angry anymore. He was livid. He didn’t care if this was one of the Changelings or if Celestia had turned on them after all. He booked it from the curtain. For a brief instant, things seemed to slow as he grabbed the hilt of his own sword, but they instantly sped up again. Taking the wrapped handle in both hands, he raised it over his head and brought it down with all the force mustered from years of chopping wood with a sledge maul.
The guard’s shock was plastered on his face as it looked at the image of the human, even as his head descended to the floor. His body slumped a moment later as a blast of green flames followed.
The creature’s body was as massive as it had been while it was disguised. Slick black chitin bulged and jutted out in vicious barbs and angles while a heavily reinforced shell glistened iridescently on his back. The fangs that extended from its gaping maw were flanked on either side by a set of massive mandibles designed to snap with crushing force. The floor hissed beneath its fangs as acidic venom ate away at the surface while the sticky green ichor gushed, then pumped, then burbled, and finally trickled, leaving the surface of the floor completely green and sticky. Its eyes were dead, but nearly reflective as Taze peered into them, perceiving the shadow of his reflection burst into a multitude of iterations.
Looking around quickly as the world came to, Taze hyperventilated. He had clearly just killed something, and his mind was reeling at that fact. However, he found the expected feeling muted as rationality staked its claim. First, this being had likely done something to his friend. Second, this was an enemy. A small darker part also claimed that it wasn’t human, but he tried to ignore that portion, given the sapient nature of the Ponies he had encountered thus far. Gathering himself, he relieved the creature of Shawn’s sword before hiding the body, with no small amount of effort on his part, behind the curtain he had hidden behind himself.
Turning the way he’d come, he ran off to find Matthew and Moonshade. It was official now. The enemy had made their move. Time was of the essence.
Matthew and Moonshade were lost. Well, Matthew was lost. Moonshade was simply following him to keep him out of trouble as they searched for the rogue Taze. Moonshade was using her nose while Matthew gazed around uneasily at how silent and empty the hallways had become.
A few minutes later, Taze barreled into Matthew unexpectedly, and both toppled to the floor in a heap. Taze was faster to recover, and quickly hoisted his friend to his feet. “Matthew!” he exclaimed. “Are you okay?”
“Yes.” Matthew rubbed his rear gingerly. “I’ll probably bruise a little in the morning, but aside from that, I’m fine. What’s going on, Taze?”
Taze looked suspiciously at Moonshade. “Has she been with you the whole time?”
“Yes,” he confirmed. “She’s followed me like my shadow, and you like a bloodhound. You're a hard man to find when you’re angry.”
“We need to see Luna now!” Taze said hastily. His pupils had widened significantly, and his movements were jerky as he checked the halls.
“What's so important?” Moonshade asked.
“Please, just trust me!” Taze stressed.
Moonshade looked at him for a moment, then sighed reluctantly. “Very well. But this had better be good.”
Matthew frowned. “Look, Thestral, in all my years, Taze has never been this anxious or worked up about anything. If he’s demanding to see Princess Luna, you can bet it’s important.” The sight of Shawn’s sword left the human swallowing. His voice cracked as he spoke. “Shawn? Is he…?”
“I don’t know. I found this on a … thing? I think it was one of those Changelings, but I can’t be sure. It looked like a guard, but changed into this black thing after it died.”
Moonshade stiffened at that comment. “You killed it?” she asked.
“Yes,” Taze said through deep breaths.
“Good,” Matthew breathed. “This is bad. If there are already enemies inside the walls….” He paused. “Can you … do you have proof? We need to show some sort of evidence to the Princess. A leg, a body, a head.”
“I hid the body,” Taze responded. “It was way too heavy to carry.”
Matthew looked to Moonshade. “Do you think the three of us can carry it?”
“If you have the location, Princess Luna can send some of the Night Guard for it. Or else retrieve it herself, should she feel it necessary,” Moonshade noted.
Matthew looked to Taze. “Can you do that? Tell Luna where it is?”
“Probably? I can get them in the right area, at least.” He nodded.
Matthew looked confused. “Uh, I would be walking, but where do we go?” Matthew asked.
“Follow me,” Moonshade ordered and sprinted down the hall. The humans were soon scrambling to keep up.
Princess Luna looked gravely at the two humans as they stared at her from the chamber inside the watchtower. Her duty to the spyglass was all but forgotten when she took in the worried furrows in Taze’s brow, and more particularly the sword in his grasp. Matthew eyed his friend with equal measures of worry and concern as they stood before the ruler. Moonshade maintained her vigilance in accordance with her duty as the pair’s assigned guard, even as she awaited Luna’s reaction to the news that had been delivered.
“How many others have you told?” Luna asked calmly.
“No one,” Taze answered.
“We came straight to you after Taze told us,” Matthew confirmed.
Luna’s face became serious as she considered everything. She summoned a guard and, after a rapid exchange, sent them off to look for the body Taze had hid. Turning to the trio, she nodded. “We’ll have to take this somewhere quieter,” she noted. “If what you say is true, this watch may be pointless.”
“At least give them a semblance of a watch, then,” Matthew suggested. “We don’t want them to think we know anything, right? Can’t you perform some sort of, you know, illusion spell or something?”
Luna nodded “I’ll set up a guard with a glamour to appear as though they are me.” She signaled another guard close and explained her instructions. One carefully controlled burst of magic later, a copy of Luna saluted again and reported to her post at the spyglass.
“Now what?” Matthew asked.
In an instant, they found themselves in Luna's room. There was no flash, no real magic effect at all. They just found themselves there.
Matthew blinked in surprise. “Okay. That was … impressive.”
“Being Princess of the Night imbues me with certain privileges at night,” Luna explained. “Now then, it seems to me likely the Changelings will plan their attack tomorrow during the ceremony. We need to have some kind of plan.”
“You mean aside from being ready to fight for our lives, I assume.” Matthew frowned. “If we’re already compromised, then the Changelings would have to move on the best defensive asset and neutralize it. If they had the numbers inside the barrier already, they would have attacked by now. That means either they’ve been getting some sort of device or enchantment or something in place to neutralize Captain Armor’s barrier or they’ll attempt to incapacitate him directly to bring down the shield.” He stroked his chin in thought. “Though that still leaves us with one question. How did they circumvent the barrier itself?”
“By being inside before the barrier was cast,” Luna said. “Clearly, they’re smarter than we thought.”
“What do we do, Chieftess?” Moonshade asked.
Luna turned to the fiery plinth where the great warhammer lay. The princess approached it with a deliberate calm. The flames licked at her hoof with no effect. “It’s time, old friend,” she said with a smile. The hammer began to shake as a high-pitched ringing filled the air. Moments later, the casing shattered, and the flames surged into the weapon, causing it to pulse with a menacing magical aura as it floated toward her hoof. But, of course, even without the magical aura, menace was in its nature.
The warhammer was not unlike something from medieval Europe of Earth. It was primarily forged of a strange dark blue metal that seemed to carry a dull silvery glow within its darkened depths. Silver filigree caressed the surface of the metal, forming intricate symbols and etchings that almost seemed to dance in the weapon's own corona. The front was a large circular face covered in tiny bumps where the point of impact would be. The back was a spike formed of a rusty brownish-yellow substance that bespoke either a horn, fang, or some sort of massive claw that jutted back at a cruel angle. The haft was constructed of the same metal as the head, though the handle was wrapped in black leather with a small thong at the end. The hammer seemed to hold aloft happily in Lunas grip, like two partners finally rejoined after a long separation.
“You need to avoid attending the ceremony tomorrow. They will come for you, and you must be ready. Try to find me as soon as you can, and we’ll do our best to confront them head-on. I’m afraid even if we were to discuss this with my sister, she would not take it seriously.” She shot Taze a sidelong smirk. “Especially after the dressing down you gave her.”
Moonshade looked at the weapon in Luna's magical grip with awe and reverence.
“Princess Luna, if we’re going to accomplish anything, we need more information,” Taze insisted as he absently brushed the sword’s hilt. “I need some kind of book or something about Changelings. Anatomy, weaknesses, deterrents and defenses, those sorts of things.”
Luna considered the human’s words for a few moments before nodding. “You’ll have whatever information I can send to you when you return to your room,” she promised.
“I assume the same way you brought us here in the first place?” Matthew guessed.
Luna nodded. “That would be wisest, considering things from here.”
“It would probably be best for you to send us back to the tower and let us return to our room from there.” Matthew frowned. “Is the armor you had us measured for ready for use yet?”
“It should be. I’ll have it delivered to your room.”
Matthew nodded. “We’ll make sure to take care of our preparations, then.” He frowned again. “How are we going to be able to tell your units are who they say they are? I know we can trust Moonshade, but if they managed to infiltrate the Solar Guard, then it’s possible they may also have planted someone in your units’ ranks.”
“My Guard has several code words and other such knowledge they use,” Luna noted.
“I suppose we’ll have to trust that, then.” He clenched his jaw as the full weight of the situation crashed down on him. He swallowed heavily to push back against that invisible pressure and nodded. “All right. Unless you’ve got anything else to add, Taze, I guess all we can do now is act normal and prepare.”
“I’ll also need some kind of candy or something similar,” Taze noted. “I have low blood sugar issues when I exert myself too much. I’ll need something I can eat while we fight.”
Luna nodded. “We will ensure such rations are included in your supplies.” She lifted her head, raising her horn high. And in an instant, they were gone.
“You going to be okay?” Taze asked Matthew as they sat in their room.
“Taze, we don’t even know whether Shawn is alive or not,” Matthew said as he looked at Shawn’s bed, where the sword lay on the blankets like the top of a Templar’s funeral effigy. “I am definitely not okay.” He leaned over his bed frame as he worked over the mechanisms on his crank crossbow. “But … we don’t exactly have much of a choice right now. If we freeze, we’re probably going to die, so … I just have to not freeze, do something. You know what I mean?” He raised the bow and eyed the door, then lowered the weapon again and slowly disarmed it. “What about you? Did you find anything useful in that book?”
“Not yet,” Taze said with a stony face. “You get some rest, and I'll let you know if anything pops up, okay?”
Matthew sighed. “I don’t even know if I’m going to be able to sleep.”
“They sent us those potions.” Taze pointed to the two bottles on a table.
“I know. I just–” he sighed again. “–Oh, I don’t know. I guess I just want to spend a little more time with a close friend before I take it. Sort of a last supper, you know? Just … just in case.”
“Don’t think like that,” Taze said as his mouth pulled into a smirk “We’ll be fine. Just wait and see.”
Matthew turned back to the Thestral that had come to replace Moonshade so she could stock up on her own supplies for the battle to come. “You’re sure I’ll wake up in time?”
The Thestral nodded. “It’s guaranteed. You will rise full of energy and fully aware.” He looked slyly at Taze. “A first for one of you, from what I understand.”
Matthew couldn’t help but chuckle. “Thank you. I … I needed that.” He lowered the crossbow gently to the floor and unsheathed his K-bar one last time before shoving it back where it belonged and striding to seize his bottle. His hand shook as he reached for the stopper. Finally, he managed to pull it out and raised the container in a salute. “May we live past the interesting times to come.” He smiled weakly. “And Taze, thank you for being such a good friend.” With that said, he downed the bottle’s contents and slipped under the covers. It wasn’t long before his breathing became long and even. Matthew was asleep, and his belongings, including the gifts from Luna, laid at the ready next to his footwear.
“Yeah, I’m a saint, all right,” Taze grumbled as he rose from his bed and approached Matthew’s. He took the quiver of bolts and moved to one of the tables that had been brought in to decorate the room. “Did you guys manage to get that stuff I listed for you?” he asked the Thestral.
“The materials are all there. You’ll find the vessels are clearly marked.”
“Then I have work to do,” Taze said as he began setting things up. He sorted the chemicals out carefully before he retrieved a small bowl and began to mix them together in certain amounts while he read from the book like he would a recipe for cookies.
“I take it that your friend would not approve of this?” the guard guessed.
“Chemical warfare is considered a major war crime in our homeworld. After a great war, the nations came together and agreed upon a set of laws that forbid the use of such weapons and several others as going against everything we considered to be ‘human.’”
“And you would rather the burden, and thus the guilt, of this act be upon yourself, rather than your friend?” the Thestral surmised.
“If you’ve heard anything about my speech earlier today, then you likely remember I said I’d die for him. Friends are the people you can count on. They’d sacrifice for you, and you need to be willing to sacrifice for them. If it takes my soul to make sure his isn’t touched, that's a price I'll pay,” Taze noted as he finished one mixture and began another.
“Then it seems that humans may not be so different from Ponies after all,” the Thestral said with a wry smile.
Taze grinned. “At least Thestrals, perhaps.” He chuckled. “I never did get your name.”
“You may call me Crescent Reaper.” He chuckled. “A bit pretentious, but it is a name well earned.”
“I suppose I'll get a chance to see the reason why up close tomorrow.” Taze chuckled. “Who knows? Maybe we’ll speak again when this whole mess is over.”
“Perhaps,” the warrior allowed. “But for now, I would focus on that mixture of yours. Keep stirring like that and you’re liable to fill this whole room with fumes.”
“I doubt it,” Taze said as he worked. “The book said these mixtures are targeted at emotivores.”
“And that is supposed to make them smell better?”
“No, but it also means whatever scent they have is probably not going to be overly noxious to us,” he noted. “Mostly, anyway.”
“Will you also treat your own weapons?”
“Yes, but my weapon does more potential damage, so I’ll be doing just a base coating with one of these. These bolts are going to get treated with multiple coatings each.”
“I do not believe those measures have been combined in such a manner before. I suggest you use a brush, rather than risking an adverse reaction.”
“I plan to.” Taze nodded. “Just want the preparations done first.”
“I will leave you to it, then.” The Thestral nodded as he spread his wings and flew up to the rafters. “I’ll keep an ear out for any uninvited guests. Make sure you don’t stay up too late, though, human. We have a busy day ahead of us tomorrow.”
“Best of luck,” Taze offered with a nod before focusing on his work. It was going to be a long night.
The first thing Shawn felt was a strange sense of cold against his cheek. Actually, his whole body felt cold. Pain throbbed against his skull with every beat of his heart. It was dark, obviously, because he had yet to open his eyes. He wasn’t sure that he wanted to just yet. He remembered the fight, the attack from the Changelings, and … a flying chunk of wood. He would have to focus on that later. For now, he needed to focus on his own body.
He grunted as he moved his arms and pushed himself off the ground before putting his knees underneath himself. Finally, he opened his eyes and took in his surroundings. The best he could make out was that he was in a cave of some kind, though it was illuminated by a series of large crystals.
He took a few breaths before taking the inevitable next step to shift himself to his feet. As he placed more weight on his right side, the leg gave out momentarily, leaving him to stumble several steps before crashing into one of the larger crystals around him and propping his now throbbing shoulder against it to hold himself up. Attempting to stand upright unassisted resulted in a flare of intense pain in the lower right section of his back, and he was in no shape to try and reach behind himself to figure out why.
“Come … on,” he growled to himself. “Move. I need to move.” He continued, slowly applying pressure to his right side as he stood himself up. The pain provided clarity and focus. “Come on. Move,” he ordered again as he finally took a few steps.
Scanning the grounds around him, he was barely able to find what appeared to be a path through the stalagmites and crystals. While he attempted to follow the assumed path, his thoughts drifted back once more to the events that had led to his being cast … wherever here was.
The Changelings had attacked him after he was led to a trap. He saw their leader as well. At least, he assumed her to be their leader, though events were slightly blurry. He groaned as he placed a hand on his head. What was it that led there…? What happened before? How did he expose them?
‘The fake Twilight. Right.’ He frowned at the thought. “What about the others? Damn it…. Are they all right?”
He stumbled once more as his right leg wobbled and threatened to give out again. “Come on.” He grit his teeth as he continued to push forward. “I can’t die here. I won’t die here.”
It was faint, a ghost of an echo, but it rang and resonated with the crystals, and thus in Shawn’s ears. The hint of a voice, and a nagging, almost maniacal laugh.
“Are you sure we’re going the right way, Twilight?”
“No, but as long as we keep going up, we have to reach the opening they used to sneak through the barrier in the first place. Don’t worry, Cadance, I promise. We’ll get there in time to stop all of this.”
“We have to be careful, Twilight. The Changeling Queen’s magic was strong enough to overpower mine. And she’s had days to feed off of Shining Armor since then. She won’t be an easy target.”
Shawn grit his teeth as he contemplated the voices. It could have been a clever trap laid out to lead him astray. But … he was already as good as dead either way. He took a few breaths to brace himself, then inhaled as much as possible. His side seared with pain as the flesh around the wound that was doubtless there shifted with the movement of his diaphragm. He grit his teeth through it and bellowed at the top of his lungs. “Twilight!” The pain from the breathing was nothing compared to the explosion that followed his expulsion. He fell to his knees, and his hands scraped the uneven floor as he panted, grit his teeth, and yelled again. “I need help!”
The crystals rang again, this time with a deeper tone as his voice carried and reverberated again and again. It took a full five minutes before the response came back.
“What was that?”
A gasp followed. “Lord Shawn!”
“Twilight, wait! It might be a trick.”
“Cadance, he’s not a Pony. He’s not even from our world. I don’t think the Changelings can take his form.”
“Ex Divinia etiam,” he muttered as he thought things over. Proof would speed things along. “The glamour spell you cast over me at the fitting room! She didn’t notice I was the wardrobe!” he called out, taking several breaths as he groped for the next piece of evidence he could use. He had to stay awake. He had to keep his mind moving. Otherwise, the darkness would close in again. He reached toward his back, but his arm trembled as he did so, and he nearly lost his balance. His hand smacked heavily against the floor as the tremors began to shudder over his body.
“Shawn!” In her exuberance, the mare had dropped the noble title. The rapid beating of hooves echoed through the cavern.
“Twilight, wait!”
“If you can hear me, call again!” Twilight shouted. “Help us find you!”
“I can’t,” he choked as his voice failed him. “Come on, … one more time,” he muttered, trying to psych himself up for it. “I’m—!” Before he could utter the word ‘here’, the rest of his breath came out as a haggard groan of pain. His side flared up again. This time however, he couldn’t push through it as he exhaled harshly, taking short gasps before his arms wobbled and finally failed him, and he collapsed onto the floor.
He wasn’t sure how much time had passed. Every blink felt so slow. It was harder and harder to force his eyelids open again. The steady rhythm, the reverberation of thudding hooves. Thudding, thudding, thudding in such a steady beat. The short gasps punctuated the silence between those thuds as the blackness ate away at the edges of his vision piece by piece. Focus flagged as the distinct staccato of the clops became a muddled river of sound, and then white noise washing over him. He managed one last final groan before his strength failed him utterly and he fell clawing into that dark abyss.
Taze tightened the straps on his pauldrons one last time. What he’d been given was a blue sweater with several small plates across the front with a steel kind of belt-like harness around the waist. Beyond that, he wore surprisingly well tailored pants that had been given several carefully shaped plates across the front. The harness around the waist connected to two large pauldrons at his shoulders with additional spaulders and bracers made of boiled leather covering his arms. He wore his original gloves and boots, however. The smiths were unable to get the hang of either in time. Additionally, at the request of one of the Thestrals, he’d been given a bandoleer loaded with the closest thing they could get to throwing blades. They were handleless knives, basically, but they were weighted well enough for throwing. He looked at Matthew with a grim smile as he tested the fit.
Matthew smiled grimly in turn. “You look terrifying,” he said as he finished dressing in the armor provided. It looked more like a more Romanesque breastplate formed from plated boiled leather that looked like it had been welded together. A plated metal kilt over a pair of leather pants offered protection for his thighs. There was no need for footwear, since he had his combat boots. Rather than the familiar gold of the Solar Guard armor, a simple burnished steel served to protect them. The breastplate had an eagle etched into it that looked similar to the great seal of the United States. He couldn’t help but wonder how they might have gotten ahold of it in the first place. There was only one potential explanation he could think of. “I think Luna was in my dreams,” he announced as he pointed to the design on his breastplate.
He moved to the helmet next. It lacked the usual space for the guards’ plume, leaving something more akin to a medieval helm as he strapped it on. When the helmet was properly situated, he nodded and moved to push his glasses up his nose, only to stop in surprise as his hand hit a solid wall. It was invisible, but it was clearly there. “Taze, … the helmet has a forcefield for my face.” Carefully set gems in his armor glowed with the charge of mana to help maintain the field. Along with the armor, the Ponies had been kind enough to include a trainee short sword to act as a final line of defense. They had also included a loop in the sword belt to place his K-bar. Finally, he nodded and turned to face his friend. “So? How do I look?”
“You look like you’ll last a bit out there.” Taze chuckled. “Let's hope this all works out.”
“You doubt the craftsmanship?” Moonshade asked with eyebrow raised as she fixed her helmet on her head. The dark blue polished metal shone sinisterly in the light. A saber was buckled to her side, and a tomahawk was strapped to her chest.
“No. I'm just being realistic,” Taze said. “Go into battle thinking you will live, and you will surely die. Go into battle recognizing that you may die, and you will surely live.”
“But I will be relying on your armor totally,” Matthew started. “We take this one moment at a time.” He grinned. “Did you relay that I wasn’t feeling well, like I asked?”
“Yes. Over an hour ago,” Moonshade noted.
“Which means the fun will begin in about….” Taze counted down from five with one hand and then pointed toward the door, which received a harsh knock.
“Who's there?” Moonshade asked.
“Corporal Flurry. Princess Celestia dispatched me to escort a healer to tend to the human.”
Matthew gave a very convincing groan and grumbled to Moonshade to stop the noise or he’d lose his cookies again.
“Permission to enter?”
“What is the command code for today, corporal?” Moonshade asked.
“Ma’am, that information wasn’t shared with me. All I know is I’m acting on Princess Celestia’s orders to escort.”
“And I am acting on Princess Luna’s orders not to act without the correct authorization,” Moonshade stated. “No command code, no entry.”
“Please,” a mare’s voice called. “Won’t you at least let me leave some remedies for the human to try? You can retrieve them after we depart. I just want my patient to be well.”
“Leave them in front of the door and leave, then,” Moon shade said, making extra effort to sound unsuspecting but annoyed and ending with an overdramatic sigh.
The sound of clinking vials rang like milk bottles. “Permission to be dismissed?” the corporal asked through the door.
“Leave, Corporal, before I strangle you with your own tail!” Moonshade barked.
The sound of retreating hoofbeats echoed from the hall.
“For being a race of shapeshifters, you’d think they’d be better at acting,” she said in a whisper. “Four sets of hooves approached, and only one set left. They’re waiting for us to open the door and retrieve the ‘medicine.’”
“So, then, we wait?” Taze asked.
Matthew nodded and kept his mouth shut as he slowly got down on the ground and crawled to a good spot, raised his crossbow, and pointed it at the door.
Moonshade nodded. “As long as we can. Then,” she looked grimly at the door, “we give them Tartarus.”
Twilight Sparkle, the bearer of the element of magic, noble daughter of the Solar Court, and sister to Captain Shining Armor of the Royal Guard was racing as fast as her hooves could carry her across the stone floor. The bedraggled Princess Cadance trailed behind with a concerned look on her face.
“Twilight, slow down!”
Twilight shook her head. “If I slow down, he could die. You heard him. You heard what happened! He could be injured. He could be bleeding! He could be—”
Cadance leaped in front of the mare. “Twilight! Calm down. If this friend of yours is in trouble, and it really is him, then we’ll help him. But if you don’t move more carefully, you’re liable to get yourself killed. This is a mine, after all, and a very old one at that. We’ll run where it’s safe, but when it’s time to turn corners or enter a dark cavern, we need to slow down and take in our surroundings. We don’t want to get trapped in a cave-in.”
“But—”
“Deep breaths, Twilight.” The mare laid a scuffed hoof on the mare’s back and rubbed it back and forth. “You’re the smartest mare I know. If we’re going to find him safe and sound, you’ll figure out how to do it.”
It took a few moments for the mare to catch her breath. The presence of her favorite foal sitter helped immensely. She was still worried, but her friend was right. Running blindly would only get them lost. She had to think. What did she know about navigating caverns and cave systems? “There are some species of creatures that navigate through echolocation,” Twilight mused. “I talked with some of the Thestrals about it once after Princess Luna came back.”
“And?”
“Well, … this whole cavern is filled with gems and crystals.”
“And?”
“That means that they can resonate. They attuned to the fake you when she taunted me in the cavern. If she can use that connection to find us when she’s back up in Canterlot Castle, then maybe I can use it to find him down here!”
Cadance smiled. “See? Smartest mare I know.”
“I’ll still have to be careful about it,” Twilight said with a frown. “If her magic is still connected to these crystals, she might feel what I’m doing and try to stop me.”
“Then what if I give her a target?”
“Cadance, no! That’s too dangerous!”
“And what you’re suggesting isn’t? Shining would never forgive me if I let something happen to his little sister. If Chrysalis’ magic isn’t there, then there’s no harm. And if it is and she tries to lash out, I’ll be better equipped to handle it. Either way, this is our best option to find him quickly. If this lord really is in danger, then we have to take the risk.” Cadance’s horn glowed a bright blue. “I trust you, Twilight. And I believe in you. Will you believe in me?”
Twilight didn’t trust herself to speak. She nodded as tears swam in her eyes and her horn ignited. Together, the two touched their horns to the crystal walls and let their magic spider out in tendris. Each crystal their power touched changed shade and hue to take on purple or blue auras as the mares’ magic passed through the cave network.
The spell was a curious blend of projection and scrying pulled into one. Throughout the journey, Twilight could perceive the world surrounded in a purple hue as her awareness raced along the paths of the cave system. Faster and faster her magic flowed. She snaked past Cadance’s touch, having known that familiar mana for years. There was something else there. But what she perceived was not an aura of magic, but rather a lack thereof. The magic in the air surrounded the shape, but the shape itself was a dark void. And it was crumpled on the cave floor.
Twilight’s thought snapped back like the crack of a whip as she pulled herself free of the cave walls. She turned quickly to Cadance, where the blue tendrils of her magic were slowly being herded back by that malevolent green.
“Cadance, that’s enough! I’ve got what we need. Break it off!” Twilight raced to her foal sitter’s side and thrust against the Alicorn’s side. Her horn jostled, and an almost electric spark jumped off the crystal wall to her horn. Then she gasped as her eyes came back into focus and the green consumed what little of the blue remained.
“Did you … find what you need?” Cadance huffed.
Twilight nodded, even as the Cadance that was not Cadance appeared on the wall and tutted.
“Ah, ah, ah. Naughty naughty,” she chided. “Did you really think I was going to make it that easy for you?”
“We will get out of here, Chrysalis. And when we do, you’ll regret ever coming to Canterlot,” Cadance said.
Chrysalis chuckled. “By the time you get out, there won’t be a Canterlot left for me to regret.” She sneered. “I think the castle would make for a lovely hive. Don’t you? And Shining Armor will make a perfect drone. A queen can never have enough consorts, you know.”
The ghost of the Changeling’s laughter carried exultantly through the air as Cadance’s hoof smashed against the crystal surface, shattering the Changeling queen’s image. “I won’t let that happen,” she said through clenched teeth. Then, as her head drooped, she spoke more softly. “I can’t….”
Twilight laid a supportive hoof on Cadance’s side. “We’ll make it,” she promised. “Let’s get Lord Shawn. Then we’ll gather our forces and get out of this place.”
Cadance nodded. “I wasn’t able to chart far, but I got far enough to make her take notice. Lead the way. I’ll follow. Then I can guide us through what I saw.”
This time, the race was not the frantic charge of one consumed with emotion, but rather the confident strides of one who knew where they were going. Room after room, cave after cave, Twilight followed the trail her magic had laid for them until they finally reached the chamber where Shawn’s body lay and gasped.
The human was crumpled on the floor, his eyes closed. His face was a pale white, and his back and coat were dyed a sticky red that seeped like ichor from the wound where a black object protruded.
“Shawn!” Twilight ran toward the body. “Shawn, can you hear me? Shawn!” She nudged his face. The skin felt cold to the touch, but her keen ears heard the faint gasps of his breath. She looked up frantically at Cadance. “He’s alive!” Her horn glowed brighter to give a better view of the human’s condition. “Help me!”
Cadance approached quickly. Her own face appeared to have paled, though whether it was a trick of the light or simply the change in her demeanor was difficult to tell. “I … I don’t know if we can do very much here, Twilight,” she said softly. “I … I don’t know what to do….” She began to shake. “What do I do? Mother….” Her pupils and irises shrank as she stared off into the distance, as though she weren’t even there in the cave anymore. Tears pattered against the cave floor.
“Cadance!” Twilight raced up to the mare, but no matter how she called, the mare wouldn’t answer. Twilight had read about these reactions before, but she had never expected to see a traumatic flashback from her foal sitter of all people. There was only one way to guide her out of it. “Sunshine, sunshine, ladybugs awake,” she began with the traditional cadence, clopping her hooves in time and crouching down to cover her eyes as they had for so many years when she was a filly. Cadance blinked slowly at that as her eyes pulsed. “Clap your hooves….” Twilight raised Cadance’s hoof to tap her own. “And do a little shake.”
“T-Twilight…?”
“I’m here, Cadance. Let’s do it again. You remember the motions, don’t you?” She smiled at the mare who had loved her like a sister for so many years. “Sunshine sunshine,” she began again. This time, Cadance joined in.
“Ladybugs awake,” she said uncertainly as she lowered her head.
The two spoke together as they completed the ritual. “Clap your hooves and do a little shake.” Like an exorcism, the two chanted together once more, pushing through the motions until Cadance was finally back in the present. She breathed slowly. “Thank you, Twilight. I … I don’t know what happened.”
“We can talk about that later. Can you help Shawn?” Twilight guided Cadance back toward the human’s limp body.
Cadance swallowed heavily as she looked over the carnage. “I don’t know enough about his anatomy to be able to heal him, even if I had a strong enough spell to do the job. And that fight with Chrysalis weakened me. I won’t be able to do much.”
“We can’t just leave him like this.”
Cadance nodded. “I know. You’re right. But without proper knowledge of his anatomy, I don’t know how best to help him. We could kill him if we’re not careful. We need guidance from someone who knows how to treat him.”
“We don’t have anyone like that!”
“Yes, we do.” Cadance looked down at Shawn. “Twilight, I need you to hold him steady in your magic. Do you understand? We can’t afford to let him hurt himself.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Try to bring him back to consciousness. He’s the only one that can help us right now.”
Twilight hesitated for a moment, then nodded grimly as her horn lit up and her magical aura surrounded the human’s body. A few moments later, Cadance shook herself and gathered her will before lowering her horn to the human’s forehead.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “This is probably going to hurt.” And then her power arced from her horn into the man’s skull.
Shawn grunted in pain as his eyes opened weakly.
“Shawn?” Cadance asked. “That is your name, isn’t it?”
Shawn slowly looked Cadance over. “Yeah,” he muttered softly.
“We don’t have much time. I brought you back, but I won’t be able to keep you coherent for long. You’ve been stabbed in the back, and I don’t have sufficient knowledge of your anatomy to treat you. I need you to tell me all you can about emergency procedures for your species as quickly as possible.”
After a few seconds he exhaled. “I’d be dead already if it was anything vital…” He took a breath. “Best bet,” he took a moment to muddle through his thoughts. “Is to remove whatever’s there and seal the wound.”
Cadance shook her head. “We can’t close it. We have neither the tools nor the knowledge of your anatomy to perform that sophisticated a spell successfully, let alone operate to close it.”
After a few seconds, Shawn looked her dead in the eyes. “Do you know any fire-based magic?”
Cadance nodded. “We do.”
“Pull it out,” he took a breath. “And sear the wound shut.”
“Are you crazy?” Twilight objected.
“I’m dying.” Shawn gave a weak smile. “It is a severe solution, but ... it’s all I have.”
“Twilight,” Cadance said gravely. “It’s either this or he has no chance at all.” She closed her eyes and shuddered, most likely to shake off the remnants of the vision she had experienced. “On the count of three, I need you to pull out whatever that thing is with your magic while still keeping Shawn restrained. After, I’ll move in with the spell before his blood has a chance to pool in the wound.”
“Hold me steady,” Shawn added as he closed his eyes, bracing himself the best he could.
“One.” Twilight braced herself. “Two.” Cadance charged up her horn. “Three!”
The spike yanked with incredible force, crashing into the high ceiling and clattering to the floor before skittering to a spinning stop. The torn fabric that had been thrust in with it soon pulled out, leaving Cadance the opening she needed as her horn unleashed a blue flame that was carefully concentrated. She plunged her horn at the wound. Steam and smoke hissed as the smell of roasting flesh assaulted both equines’ nostrils. Shawn hissed, then opened his mouth as the involuntary scream forced itself out of his throat.
And then, mercifully, it was done. Cadance drew back with a wan face as Twilight released her hold on Shawn and waited while the human’s chest heaved.
Shawn calmed his breathing as best he could before clenching his hand into a fist. After a moment, he raised his arm, placing his fist on the ground as he pulled himself up onto his knees. As he settled, he reached up and wiped his forehead. “Gods, … that sucked.”
“Are you all right?” Cadance asked. “Can you stand?”
“Yeah. Just, give me a second.” Shawn gave a nod. After a moment he pushed himself onto his feet, wobbling briefly before he widened his stance. “Lightheaded. I’ll probably be fine for now. Thank you.”
Cadance eyed his right leg suspiciously, then strode to his side. “Use me for support until you can get your full strength back. The damage to your side is likely still going to give you trouble.”
“I’ll be fine for now. Honestly, the pain is waking me up right now.” Shawn shook his head. “It’s … one hell of a motivator. If I need your help, I’ll ask. Don’t worry.”
“Do you feel well enough to climb?”
“Won’t know until the time comes.”
“Then we’d better get moving. We don’t know how much time is left before the ceremony. Twilight, can you guide us back along the trail you took to get us here? I should be able to guide us from there, at least for a time.”
Twilight nodded. “This way.”
The rhythmic thunk and chop of blade against wood hacked away at the three occupants’ ears. Now that guile had failed, brute force had become the Changelings’ only recourse. Moonshade crouched at the ready while the door shook and vibrated. Then came the sound that filled the room with dread, the familiar ring of magic at work. A green aura surrounded the hinges. The metal screeched as it slowly pulled out of the sockets. Finally, the metallic ping rang as they pulled free. With a final blow, the door came crashing down.
Matthew pulled the trigger of the crossbow, and the first changeling was hit in the left eye as the illusion failed. The Changeling fell to the left, lifeless as the hinges they had just removed. Next, Matthew rolled out of a magic blast and tried to load another bolt. As the next Changeling poked through to walk in over the body of its companion, Taze struck out with a sweep of his blade, only to strike an angle between the chitin plates instead, causing the blade to bounce off. He growled and managed to jam the shorter blade in with his other hand, though the effort left the hand numb. The changeling landed on top of its comrade, leaving only one left to kill.
Moonshade charged the gap and managed to catch the last changeling off guard, slitting its throat with a well-practiced slash of her saber. She pulled the twitching Changeling into the room, leaving it to die there, then checked the hallways carefully before nodding.
“It’s clear. Let's go!” she said as she took point.
Matthew had his next bolt loaded by the time the other two had made their kills. “Let’s get rid of these bugs,” he said darkly. Despite the bravado, a slight tremor in his voice betrayed the shock and fear he was combatting as they began the campaign that would truly be a fight for their lives. He moved slowly, using the walls for cover as he kept an eye on their surroundings.
“You okay?” Taze asked as they moved. He sheathed his short blade and kept a throwing knife ready in his off hand.
“I just killed for the first time in my life, Taze. I haven’t even hunted before…. And here, I killed a living, thinking being. I … I think I know why we dehumanize our enemies now. It makes it a lot easier to pull the trigger.” He swallowed heavily and moistened his lips. “But it’s either we kill them or they take us out.”
“We’re fighting for more than ourselves here,” Taze reminded him, gesturing to Shawn’s sword. He wasn’t willing to leave it for someone to take, so he’d tied the sheath to his back, instead.
“And that’s why I’m trying not to panic. But when this battle’s over, I am going to freak out. I know I am. I just … don’t know how much yet.”
“That's fair.” Taze clapped his friend on the back. “Now let's follow the Thestral.”
“I am,” Matthew rumbled. “Someone’s got to watch our backs.”
Daylight shone from the cavern entrance after an impassioned musical number that sounded … curiously one-sided carrying through the caves. The purpose of the song seemed to be two-fold. First, a means to vent her emotions, and secondly as a means to tie their magic to the song and let the soundwaves chart a course to the cavern’s entrance. Twilight explained the phenomenon briefly as something the Ponies call heartsong, an expression of harmony that binds the lifeforms of Equestria together.
However, Shawn didn’t have time to focus on that, thanks to the convenient approach of three clearly brainwashed bridesmaids whose eyes were all glowing green. Shawn was definitely starting to see a pattern there….
“You’d think they’d make it less obvious,” Shawn muttered as he widened his stance, bringing his fists up.
“Wait!” Cadance shouted as she produced a bouquet of flowers and shook it in front of the mares. Two of them eyed it hungrily before it was flung off into the shadows of a cavern.
The twin cries of, “I want it!” rang in stereo, but the middle bridesmaid stared with wide eyes at the sight of the human. Her body trembled. An unhealthy smile curved her lips as she bared her teeth in a manic grin and began to shake in place.
“Human. It’s a, it’s a … a … human!” She lunged, giggling like a madwoman as the green light in her eyes flickered and buzzed.
Thankfully, Shawn was prepared for something along those lines, though he was anticipating more hostile intent in a lunge. He sidestepped the mare easily. “You know, now is really not the time.”
She giggled all the more and lunged again.
“We need to sedate her,” Twilight said. “She’s not in her right mind!”
“Apologies will have to come later,” Shawn muttered as he clenched his fists. Once the mare was within range, he sprung into action. He pulled his left arm closer to his chest and rotated his body, drew back, then released a powerful right hook. In slow motion, it would have played out very much like cartoon physics. The mare’s jaw pushed one way from the force while the rest of her body twisted and spun as a result of her own momentum contributing to the collision and increasing the impact. Her legs flailed like the appendages of a ragdoll as she lost consciousness and skidded to a stop.
“Damn it.” Shawn grimaced as he shook his hand. “That’s not pleasant.”
“Is … is she going to be all right?” Twilight asked.
Cadance rushed over to Lyra and waved her horn over the mare.
“She’s still breathing,” Shawn remarked as he clenched his hand a few times. “Trust me, I’m not strong enough to do that. Given your anatomy, my fist was likely to break before I’d break anything on you.”
Cadance nodded in confirmation. “She’ll have a nasty headache, and some bad bruising under her fur, but she’ll definitely live.”
“Then we don’t have a moment to waste,” Twilight said quickly. “We have to get to the wedding!”
“Lead the way.” Shawn gestured forward.
The trio blinked in the midday sun as their eyes adjusted to the sudden transition to take in their surroundings. Topiary and grass wove together to conceal their presence. And when they looked back to the hole from which they had emerged, there was only the appearance of a perfectly maintained patch of lawn. The many buildings and estates of Canterlot and its residents and businesses lunged at the sky while the steady flow of water and the dim roar of the falls indicated just how close to the castle and wedding hall the three really were.
“Well this explains a lot,” Twilight said. “No wonder they were able to infiltrate the castle.”
“I suppose the cavern entrance would have been too difficult to widen for a proper assault,” Cadance agreed. She looked frantically toward the wedding hall. “We haven’t much time. Shawn, I have to ask you to rally as much of the Guard as you can. If there’s anyone you know you can trust, find them, and have them spread the word to move on the wedding hall. I’ll do everything I can to stall until you can get there.”
“You’re not about to face her alone,” Twilight insisted. “That’s my brother she’s threatening.”
Shawn sighed. “That, and the Guard doesn’t exactly look at me in a good light. Given our arrival, we’ve been mostly to ourselves. Best I could get might be some of the Lunar Guard, who are likely already fighting or preparing to fight.”
“That’s better than nothing. At least you can tell them the target.”
“I’ll see what I can do.” Shawn frowned. “Given our position, I think I know where the forges are. I’ll have to equip myself first.” He patted his left side where his sword would have been.
“Don’t push yourself too far,” Cadance warned. “We still have to get that wound tended.”
“I’ll try. But given the current state of emergency, I don’t think I’m going to find a doctor able to take the time to help me.”
“Then … I suppose all that’s left to say is good luck,” Cadance said. “And … thank you for believing Twilight.”
“Given what I had heard about you and what she said about you, it added up easily that something was wrong. That, and Princess Luna warning us about the Changelings in the first place helped.” Shawn gave a nod. “Be safe, all right?”
“As safe as we can be denouncing the villain.” Cadance smiled. Then she nodded and turned toward the hall. “Come on, Twilight. We have to hurry!”
Twilight gave a quick hug around Shawn’s good leg. “Thank you,” she said. Then she, too, turned and raced after her future sister-in-law.
Shawn gave a soft sigh as he looked skyward. At first, he thought the black specks swimming in his vision were just the result of light damage. But as he squinted at the great bubble overhead, he could just perceive the barest hints of ripples spreading like rocks striking a pond. First a few, then a few more, and then a veritable cloud of them swarming, switching, and striking in turn to maintain their strength.
The enemy really was making their move. And they were legion.
“Oh, shi—”
Matthew glanced behind him as he followed Moonshade and Taze through the corridors. They’d taken out a few more of the Changelings, but been lucky enough so far to go relatively undetected. They slipped into a windowed hallway, and Matthew gaped at the sight of the great pink dome above. “They’re attacking the dome!” he hissed.
“Well, if Shining Armor’s weak enough, they might be able to break through,” Taze acknowledged. “At this point, they’re the battering ram.”
Matthew frowned. “Then we should pick up the pace.” He sighed. “I just wish we knew how many are in the castle grounds themselves. That would make this a lot easier.”
“Let's hope Luna knows what to do, then,” Taze said. He kept his sword drawn and his eyes alert. “Which way?” he asked Moonshade.
The Thestral didn’t say anything in response, and just darted down another corridor.
Matthew waited for Taze to follow, then took up the rear with his crossbow at the ready, should a bolt be needed. As they passed a doorway, the wood burst open, and two Changelings tried to charge. Matthew fired, cracking the first Changeling’s chitin hard around the hole in its hoof as it passed through to strike the second opponent in the barrel. It hissed, reared and lashed in the air, then stiffened and fell dead. The Changeling with the damaged hoof charged, and Matthew drew the short sword and plunged it at the same time the Changeling lunged at him. The weight of the charge thrust the pommel into Matthew’s chest, knocking the wind out of his diaphragm. The fang-filled mouth was inches from his face. Matthew’s arms shook as the body’s weight drew the blade to the floor. Taze seized the handle and yanked it out of the drone’s body, trailing the same green ichor.
“Thank you, Taze,” Matthew muttered. “I should see if I can recover my bolt.”
Taze shook his head and pointed to his wrist. Matthew nodded and silently moved to work at cranking his next bolt into place while Moonshade provided overwatch.
“”Keep an eye on your six,” Taze noted as they moved. “That could have gone badly.”
Matthew nodded sharply and resumed his vigil as they turned down another hallway to reach a more familiar corridor.
“Are we close?” he asked Moonshade.
She nodded. “We should be. The Changelings have been fewer down this corridor. It seems like the princess may be sending out cleanup patrols.”
Matthew smiled. “Then we meet up with the princess and see where we can throw our weight about.”
“Best keep your eyes open then, human. The princess is said to be more like a natural disaster than a warrior,” Moonshade said with a somewhat awed look on her face.
“You’ve seen her in combat before?” He smirked. “Sounds like the third army in World War Two. Or a battle carrier group.”
As if to punctuate that statement, a very large body flew through a nearby pillar, kicking up dust and shattered stone. When it settled, a massive Changeling lay dead and still twitching inside the crater that had formed in the pillar. There was the casual sound of hooves on stone as Luna walked around the corner dressed from head to toe in familiar blue armor. The massive war hammer was held casually in her magical grip.
“Damn,” Taze swore with wide eyes as he took in the sheer destruction that one blow had wrought.
“I agree,” Matthew said. “That was good!” He grinned in relief as good humor replaced anxiety.
“Good to see you’ve made it. Come quickly. Let's get you inside. My captain is already prepared to explain the plan,” Luna told them as she approached, gesturing to a spot between the pillars that appeared to be a sheer stone wall.
Matthew nodded as he followed behind the princess. “Good. I’d rather not go off and do something without an update on intel. We already took out about … six to seven Changelings between the three of us.”
“We killed any we came across, my princess,” Moonshade clarified with a bow.
“Very good. Though it seems there will be plenty of fun for all of us soon,” Luna noted, gesturing upwards.
“How long can it hold out?” Matthew asked. “That is the main situation on time.”
“I don’t know,” Luna admitted as she shepherded them toward the stone face, pushing them against it and then through it to what might have been a decent sized room, had it not been filled with Thestrals, cots, and supplies. The supplies were being hoofed over to others as each hastily sought to place them in their necessary locations before standing at attention for their princess.
In the middle was a table with odds and ends that a trio of Thestrals were working on.
“Good sandbox,” Matthew said as he observed the setup. Figures of plastic beetles were intermingled with tin soldiers standing in for the Thestrals alongside a gem that most likely represented Luna. Two tin Minotaurs were hastily removed from a bag to add to the scenario, now that the two humans had been successfully escorted. Matthew couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight.
“All right, you lot of whelps, ready up!” Luna shouted in a harsh tone to all the troops. Despite the fervor with which they moved to assemble, there was nothing but smiles on their faces. “Now Canterlot has a bug problem, and we all know those pompous oafs in gold plating are too fancy to stomp some bugs. So I hope none of you got yourselves ‘dolled up’ in your fancy dresses and best horseshoes, because it looks like we’re going to be getting dirty today.” She grinned at the warriors and raised her hammer above her head as a banner and a salute. “HOORAH!”
Matthew was surprised to hear something so close to the Marine shout from back on Earth. Although it was not the same as the Equines, it seemed only fitting to Matthew to call out the Army equivalent from home. “HOOAH!”
“The solar guards are counts’ sons, knights’ sons, or barons’ sons. Their professions are sitting on their plots and letting others make money for them. Thestrals! What is your profession?”
“Warriors!” they shouted.
The enthusiasm carried Matthew out in a riptide as he shouted, “Citizen Soldier!”
“Now you give your ears to the captain, and Sleipnir's flaming beard help you if I find even one of you out of line. You’ll all sit in the corner while I take the fun.” With that, Luna turned her attention to the grizzled one-eyed Thestral near the map.
“All right, idiots,” Night Shade began, “here’s—” He was unfortunately cut off as a wave of magic crashed through the area and the sound of something shattering into massive bits above them filled the air.
“Report!” Luna called to a nearby guard who sped out and returned moments later.
“The shield’s down, ma’am! Changelings are swarming in!”
“”Well, looks like the plan’s out the window. Lunar guard, get your weapons and follow me!” Luna shouted, then turned to leave the room.
Matthew took enough time to restock on bolts, then followed grimly behind. Taze Followed his friend, trying his best to keep him in sight amongst the crowd of moving Thestrals. He’d never seen Matthew like this before.
Shawn growled as he pushed himself off the wall. While he was good at hiding it, he was definitely dealing with anemia. Every now and then, the world would spin beneath him, resulting in stumbling clumsily to a nearby wall. He wasn’t making progress like he wanted to. At the very least, he needed to equip himself and find Matthew and Taze.
Though it took some time, he did eventually find his way to the forges. The door, however, was either locked or barricaded. He couldn’t tell just by pushing against it. After glancing around once more, he raised his voice. “Hello? Storm Hammer, Steel Weaver, you in there?”
Following a few moments of silence, he sighed. “Of course not. High priority targets. They’re probably being guarded somewhere else,” he muttered.
There was a chance he could bash his way in, though. Considering the situation, he was certain they’d understand. And if they didn’t, then he’d probably be able to pay for it using some of the funds the nobles had given him as peace offerings. With that decision made, he lined up his shoulder against the door and prepared himself. While it would be optimal to kick the barrier, he didn’t trust his coordination there, given the location of his injury and the damage too much stress to that area could cause. As such, it fell to using his height and weight instead.
After taking a few preparatory breaths, he backed off, then rammed into the door. Surprisingly, the door groaned under the assault, an effect he hadn’t expected from a single blow. Then came the pain. He clenched his teeth as his shoulder and the muscles around the right side of his lower back both screamed their protests. Shawn knew he didn’t have the time to nurse those areas, though. He gritted his teeth and pulled back again. This time, he gave himself a little more distance and put his all into the charge. The door cracked as he burst through, breaking the metal bolt as the door slammed open. He stumbled in surprise at how the barrier had broken after only his second attempt. He barely managed to catch himself and avoid stumbling head-first into one of the forges.
As he had surmised, the chambers were completely empty. He sighed and rubbed his shoulder absently against the pain he knew would bruise in due time. Fortunately, he still remembered the way to Steel Weaver’s personal workspace. He doubted his armor would be finished, but whatever was there would at least be something he could use, assuming he could find something that fit.
He found several pieces of plate armor. Of course, they were only pieces made separate from one another and held together by leather straps. He frowned as he looked over the pieces. They’d cover anything essential in his center of mass, but his limbs would only be partially covered. “Better than nothing,” he murmured
Pulling up the pieces that made up the chestpiece, he began the process of strapping them on, ensuring they wouldn’t slip. Next came the bracers, followed by some plating for his thighs and greaves for his shins. Overall, it was barely anything in comparison to the standard armor of even the Solar Guard, but he would make do with what he could. Frankly, in his condition, he wasn’t sure he would be able to handle a full set of armor anyway.
Once he ensured everything was strapped down, he looked over the weapons that were completed on the nearby racks. It didn’t take him long to find the one Steel Weaver had him look over initially Thankfully, the smith had his finished products neatly organized, including the sheath for the blade. Ensuring it was sharpened, he took the sheath and strapped it roughly around his waist. Then he snatched a dagger that had been left on one of the worktables still in its sheath and attached it to the sword belt just above his left leg beneath his coat.
Looking over the sword, he took a breath and sighed. “No mercy,” he spoke to himself, sheathing the sword as he turned to leave. He tried to pull the main forge door closed behind him. Though it proved difficult, he eventually managed to get it into mostly the right place. He shook his head to clear his thoughts as the sound of hooves clopping on the floor grew louder, most likely in response to the break-in. Whoever it was probably went for reinforcements first.
He frowned as he unsheathed the sword and dagger, holding the dagger in his offhand, then turned to face the direction of the approaching force.
Four familiar figures galloped into sight. They didn’t notice him at first. They seemed to be performing a systematic sweep of the area. When they did notice him, however, they charged. Realizing the position he was in, Shawn ducked lower and braced for their assault. He managed to get the sword into the bottom of one to split it down the center, but nearly pulled his arm getting the sword out as the attacker’s momentum yanked the sword after it. Another, he managed to stab in the neck with the dagger. The third banked and attempted to stab him, but a quick dodge to the side saved him from repeating the events with Chrysalis before the caves. He ran the dagger blade across the Changeling’s throat until he felt something warm on his hand. He didn’t allow himself to focus on what he left behind. The final Changeling came at him from behind, only to impale itself against the sword blade as Shawn spun the weapon around.
“Four,” Shawn growled as he flicked the ichor off both blades. He didn’t grab anything to clean them, but if push came to shove, he’d grab whatever the previous Changelings were wielding and use them to move forward instead.
For now, he needed to find Matthew and Taze. Maybe Luna if he could. She’d have a general idea of where everyone probably was. Looking out of the nearby window to determine how the shield was holding up, he was very much surprised to find it completely gone already. The swarm was fully invading.
“Used as bait, and the outcome went to hell. Delightful.” He rolled his eyes before pressing on.
Shawn growled as he continued on his path toward the shared living quarters the princesses had provided for them. He would either run into his friends there or he would need to redirect his path toward Luna’s room and see if he could at least catch one of the Night Guards near there.
He scanned over his environment once again as he moved, ensuring that there was nothing he didn’t take in, even looking above himself to make sure none of the Changelings were trying to keep out of his view for a sneak attack. The creatures could have been anywhere.
He finally found a familiar figure dressed in blue armor patrolling the area near their shared apartment with crescent glaive at the ready.
“Crescent? Oh,” Shawn exhaled. “You’re a sight for sore eyes.”
“Oh! Where have you been?” Crescent asked with wide eyes. “The city is under attack. We heard you’d been taken.”
Shawn chuckled, then winced as his wound stabbed with pain. “Yeah, hard to miss the attack. I was, but I got free with some other prisoners.” He waved off the equine’s concern as he drew closer. “Where are the others?”
“I don’t know. I was left to keep an eye out while the others prepared for the attack.”
“Fair enough,” Shawn replied as he felt a chill go down his spine. “What about the compressor?”
Crescent stopped and gave him a confused look.
“The compressor?” Shawn asked again. “It’s not a priority,” he added casually, even as his heart raced.
“Yeah, the invasion takes priority,” ‘Crescent’ replied, checking the other end of the hall.
“Don’t do this to me…” Shawn commented softly as his hands began to shake.
‘Crescent’ turned toward Shawn. “Don’t do—?”
That was as far as he got. Shawn had reared his foot back and slammed it full force into the fake Crescents throat, resulting in a burst of green magic as the changeling was revealed. The glaive clattered on the floor as the Changeling scrabbled for purchase and air against the pressure as it choked and coughed. “Don’t you dare pull that shit with me!” Shawn roared as his rage boiled over.
He quickly replaced his foot with his hands and pulled the Changeling off the ground, then slammed it against the nearby wall. “What did you do with Crescent?!”
“Thestrals … too dangerous. Taken care of.” The changeling’s horn sparked to life momentarily as it struggled to respond.
Realizing what could potentially happen, Shawn unsheathed the dagger in his offhand and reared his arm back before stabbing it directly into the Changeling's horn. The force of the blow cleaved through the material before embedding the knife into the wall itself.
Shawn grit his teeth as the Changeling’s words reached his mind. It wouldn’t lie, not in this position, and not this sentence. It could have told him that Crescent was still alive, but it told him straight out what was done.
His breathing slowed as he held the screaming changeling against the wall, and his expression shifted to one of cold malice. Looking behind himself, he took note of Crescent’s glaive on the ground, and a plan began to form.
He removed the changeling from the wall and practically threw it onto the floor, disorienting it long enough to retrieve the glaive. If the Changeling was saying anything, it wasn’t reaching Shawn’s ears. Using his foot, he kicked the creature onto its back before taking hold of the glaive in both hands. With nothing stopping him, he sunk it into the changeling’s throat until he felt the blade stop against the floor beneath him.
Shawn took several breaths as he felt the world come back to him. Blood rushed and pumped so fast and loudly in his ears that instead of a roar, he could only hear a distinct ringing. His hands ached from the vibration of the strike and the hard stop as he gripped the shaft tightly.
After taking a moment to finish gathering himself, he stood up and ripped the glaive out of the corpse. He didn’t know how long he stood there looking over the scene. He only noticed what was happening when the sound of metal clashing echoed through the hallway from some nearby fight.
Moving towards the wall, he ripped the dagger out of it and sheathed it once again at his waist. Then he tightened his grip on the glaive again. Any guilt or worry over killing had been burned away by this one savage act of retribution.
“Thirteen,” Shawn tallied as he pressed on toward Luna’s room.
And maybe, he was starting to feel quite up to the task, himself.
“I don’t know how much longer this will hold up,” Taze admitted as he looked at his sword. He could already see small cracks and delamination forming on the metal.
“Grab another sword, then. Please don’t keep using one that’s at risk of breaking,” Matthew snapped, then looked back at Moonshade. The mare had fallen back to be his spotter. They were moving with one of the fringe groups of Thestrals, trying to clear any other part of the castle before they marched on the wedding hall.
“You see swords just lying around?” Taze asked. They’d lost Luna in a mass of visceral body parts and green mist a while ago. The lunar Alicorn had seemingly fallen into a battle rage of sorts.
Matthew didn’t answer as he raised his bow and fired. Another Changeling fell to the ground, its short sword clattering against the stone. “There you go. One extra blade.”
Taze shrugged and grabbed it in his left hand while still wielding the katana in his right. “Try and get me another,” he said.
“Is he using two?” Moonshade asked Matthew as Taze moved up.
“Apparently.” Matthew zipped up to what he thought was an alcove only to realize it was a hallway that had been overlooked. He pressed against the wall and motioned his comrades to his position as the buzzing of Changeling wings heralded the approach of another force. He fired off another bolt as four Thestrals and Moonshade reached his side. He dropped the crossbow as the four charged forward, only for another Changeling to barrel into the remainder of the group, wrecking the drones’ attack formation.
Before any further action could be taken, a familiar figure marched toward them with an ichor-drenched glaive held aloft in his right hand. The back of his coat was soaked with his own blood, while his front had many splotches of green. His expression was cold and calculating as he took in the sight of the Changelings being cut off by the Thestrals. The cuts and blood on his face seemingly meant nothing to him. He continued his march to the downed Changelings and stabbed each one as they struggled to regain their balance. The strike was almost surgical in the sense that it either slit the throat or gouged deeply enough into the insectoids’ torsos with a wound large enough to ensure their death, despite any attempts at healing. So focused was he on this task that he hadn’t even noticed the others.
But that didn’t stop them from noticing him. Matthew’s eyes widened with horror as the desperate cry of, “Medic!” burst from his lips.
A Thestral with a white band over her foreleg approached and spoke in a gentle tone as she kept her distance. “Lord Shawn?” The human stared down at her with a cold expression as his weapon leveled in her face. His knuckles were white as he squeezed the shaft of the glaive. The Thestral maintained eye contact and didn’t flinch. “If you would come this way, we’ll get a field dressing for you.”
“My wounds have been dealt with already,” Shawn remarked, as he raised the glaive to a standing position and propped himself on it.
.
“And I’m the battle medic. I wouldn’t be fulfilling my duty without giving you a once-over. Your friends are in our number. If you would allow it, my examination shouldn’t take long. It can be performed in their presence while the remainder of our squad secures this area of the castle. That weapon won’t do you any good if you push yourself beyond the ability to wield it.”
The more the medic attempted to ease Shawn, the more he found his grip tightening on the glaive.
“Shawn, stop being a stubborn ass and let them look at you,” Taze shouted. “Nobody here’s a god damned Changeling.”
Shawn shifted his attention up, and his cold expression seemed to recede as he finally took notice of both Taze and Matthew. He exhaled, allowing some tension to escape him as he lowered the glaive. “Tibi gratias ago deorum,” he spoke softly. “All right.”
Taze threw an arm around his friend. “I was worried. I thought they killed you.”
Shawn nodded. “It felt like it. I’m just glad you guys are all right.” He followed Taze’s directions to a relatively clean patch along the hall.
Matthew smiled. “It’s good to see the three amigos back together.”
Taze unclipped the sheath on his back with one hand and slid it off, then handed it to Shawn. “I killed the bastard that had this.”
Shawn looked to the sheath with a small smile. Taking hold of it, he positioned it to the other side of his hip and strapped it in before removing the makeshift chestplate at the medic’s instruction.
Once he had removed the pieces covering his torso, he took off his coat and placed it off to the side. The Medic hissed in surprise. “You burned it shut. Brutal, but effective. Magic-based, if I’m not mistaken. But the muscle spasms and movements are starting to crack the seal, so to speak.” She pulled out a bottle and clean cloth. “I’m going to apply a numbing agent. That should cut back the pain. Then I’ll add another salve to keep it from tearing open. It won’t be perfect, but it will serve you far better than what you had before. Then we can get you back out killing.” What was asked next was partly bedmanner and partly the inquiry of one warrior to another. “How many bugs did you get?”
“Twenty-seven,” Shawn replied flatly.
A few of the Thestrals gave some whistles, and the medic grinned. “In that case, you can probably expect to receive some moon berry wine from the princess when this is over. You’ve gotten more kills than some of our best rookies.”
Shawn hummed in response as he allowed the haft of the glaive in his hand to tap against the ground.
The Medic continued to eye the glaive when she had the chance, reaching toward her kit for the necessary materials. “I apologize, but I must ask. How did you get that glaive?”
Shawn sighed heavily as his shoulders slumped, then squared rigidly. “It’s Crescent’s glaive. I stumbled across a Changeling disguised as him.” His grip tightened on the weapon. “I made it talk, but the news was about what you’d expect.”
The murmuring increased as the medic’s brow furrowed. “That is … concerning,” she admitted.
One of the warriors approached with a hard glint in his eyes. “I salute you for honoring his memory, Shawn of Earth. You have avenged him well. And I am certain you will do so many more times over before this battle is ended. However, I must ask this of you. How is it that you are able to wield that glaive? Princess Luna pairs our main weapons to each of us specifically. They cannot be wielded by unauthorized users, though they can be carried. Did you see the bug use it at all? If so, that is a very troubling development, one which our units will have to plan for.”
Shawn shook his head. “Didn’t give it the chance to even use it. It didn’t know the code I established with him.” He paused briefly, then resumed. “So, I acted first.”
The soldier sighed. “Keep using it for revenge on the bugs then. We’ll see about ironing this out later. For the time being, you are the keeper of Crescent’s memory and legacy. Guard them both well.” With that said, the warrior departed to check his fellows and maintain the perimeter they had set up.
As the medic continued her ministrations, Shawn could feel the pain dissipating as the muscles in his back relaxed to ease the tension there. Finally, she nodded and began to pack her tools up. “Okay. You're ready to return to the fight. Given the princess’ directive to watch over you is still in effect, it would be best for you to remain with your companions and Moonshade. It would be safer that way as well, since they are familiar with your tactics, and we are not.”
“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Shawn replied as he started to put everything back on.
“Can someone loan me a second sword or a dagger?” Taze asked the guards. “Doesn’t need to be fancy. I just don’t trust this to last much longer,” he noted as he gestured to his katana.
A few Thestrals laid out some replacements and secondary arms for him to look over and test.
The mare nodded. “You have five more minutes to let the medicine take full effect. Then we need to keep moving.”
Taze managed to find a long sword to replace his katana. Then he stowed the short sword he’d grabbed off the Changeling earlier. Finally, he laid hold of a spare dirk for his left hand. The smaller blade's weight felt better than the other weapons. “Let’s go.”
Matthew nodded while Moonshdae took up his side. “So,” he began, “where do you want to take Shawn?”
“Our objective,” Shawn spoke up, “should be to find the element bearers, who currently have the real Princess Cadance in tow. They’ll need backup. They may be high priority.”
“I’ll do this for Twilight, or for you,” Taze sneered. “The rest of them can rot, for all I care.”
“Do it for the real Cadance,” Shawn replied simply. “Having met her, … I feel bad for her. She also worked alongside the real Twilight to bring me back from Death’s embrace, so there’s that, too.”
Taze stopped and considered his statement for a moment, then nodded slowly. He looked around. “Well, if we’re going off on our own during an invasion with overwhelming numbers, only one thing comes to mind,” he noted, standing straight and loosening his muscles. He looked to shawn. “Leroy?
Moonshade raised an eyebrow. “Leroy?
“Jenkins.” Shawn nodded his approval.
Taze raised both blades and charged ahead. “LEEERRRROOOOYYY!”
Shawn gave a soft smile as he gave the glaive a small spin, happy at his returning dexterity. Looking forward, his expression hardened, and he began his grim march once more, with weapon at the ready.
Matthew sighed. “Come on, Thestral. We need to make sure these two don’t go killing themselves. I’ll explain later.” And with that said, the two ran after the pair to cover them as the search for Twilight and Cadance began.
Matthew tightened his grip on the crossbow. He looked around the location and pursed his lips. “It seems like the Changelings are getting thicker,” he muttered as he looked about to keep an eye on all his friends while counting his lucky stars that he’d managed to hit most of his targets.
“That makes sense.” Taze nodded. “Block off your enemies’ assets with bodies, no?”
“Then we keep clearing them,” Shawn remarked.
Taze made a sweep of the area as they left the relative safety of the palace hallways for the open courtyard. Now they could be attacked from any direction.
The streets were bedlam as green balls of energy hailed from the skies and collided with the cobblestone pavement to leave small craters from which Changeling drones emerged with fangs exposed and predatory hisses. Civilians fled and were herded while those guards that were still themselves struggled and were ultimately restrained by the Changelings’ ichor. A bright purple light flashed like a strobe in the far distance as Changelings were blasted backward by the united force of Pinkie Pie wielding Twilight Sparkle like a mini gun. Rainbow Dash was busy battling other Rainbows while Fluttershy cringed or posed to misdirect her imposters. Rarity used her levitation skills to manipulate various objects and either crash them on Changeling heads or deflect attacks. Applejack used her champion buckers to wreak some serious havoc, cheering all the while in that country exuberance that only a few can pull off successfully.
Taze notedly went for Changelings on the far flank of the group, leaving some distance between himself and the mares as he hacked and slashed clumsily at the crowd. Shawn directed his focus inward toward the six, doing his best to clear a path he could use to help guard and protect them, and possibly provide a way to wherever they were trying to reach. Matthew worked on overwatch, using his crossbow to try and thin the horde of Changelings. A small number of Thestrals accompanied them to keep airborne Changelings from taking them out.
The battle lasted almost an hour, with the remnants of the swarm retreating after the bodies had begun to pile up. When they were at last sure of temporary safety, Taze and Shawn began checking for conscious bodies and either slitting the enemy’s throat or impaled their chests.
“What the hay do you think you’re doing?” Applejack demanded as she raced toward where Shawn was systematically killing each living Changeling one by one and counting each blow.
“Oh, how positively ghastly,” Rarity said as she averted her eyes. Fluttershy shook like a leaf as she whimpered near the twin portals that led into the hall that contained their elements.
“Applejack, wait!” Twilight cried after the mare, but it was already too late.
Shawn turned on a dime when he noticed Applejack’s approach and pointed his glaive directly at her before she could get close. “Not another step,” he growled out before glancing at Twilight. The order that followed was barked swiftly and without regard for rank or title. “Twilight. Confirmation of what happened in the caves?”
“Shawn, she’s real,” Twilight affirmed gently as she approached. “I found you in the caves with Cadance, and she burned your wound shut before we traveled to the entrance outside the castle grounds. You had to knock out Lyra after Cadance distracted the other two bridesmaids.”
Shawn took a moment before nodding and lowering the glaive. “Clear.”
“Good to know. They won’t stab us in the front, so we just need to keep them in front of us,” Taze called back as he kept working.
Twilight raised a confused brow at that comment. “... Okay, if you say so.” She turned to face Applejack. “Are you okay?”
Applejack fixed Shawn with a stinkeye. “Better, now that that thing’s out of my face.”
“Applejack, he just helped repel a massive attack. We don’t have time to bicker. If we don’t move now, we might not be able to get to the elements in time to stop Chrysalis. She nearly killed him. Of course he’s going to fight back now. We may not like it, but it is justified.”
“You're wasting your breath,” Taze called out. “The mob rarely cares about truth or justification.”
“I don’t waste my breath with my friends, Taze,” Twilight snapped back. “I don’t know what’s gotten into you, but my friends aren’t the enemy here.”
“You ever wonder how far your friends have your back?” Taze asked as he glared at the five. “Because I can tell you with complete and total honesty that the generosity of your friends’ kindness and loyalty is shallow enough to make a teaspoon feel like a swimming pool. It makes me want to keel over with laughter.”
Applejack winced at the verbal assault while the other mares averted their gazes.
“We don’t have time for this,” Shawn spoke up. “Twilight, you said the elements could be used to stop Chrysalis?”
“That’s what Princess Celestia said. The elements were able to purge Princess Luna of all dark magical influence. I don’t care how much love Chrysalis may have consumed. There’s no way it can match that kind of magic.”
“Then let’s move. We don’t have a lot of time before more Changelings come by.”
“I’ll cover you,” Matthew said. “I’m not much good in a direct fight, anyway.”
Moonshade sighed. “The more I follow you three, the less I feel my chances of getting out of this alive.”
“Helping the bearers of the elements of harmony to achieve their objective isn’t such a bad way to go, though, is it?” Matthew retorted with a cheeky grin.
“I suppose not.” Moonshade grinned. “Let's move.”
The doors flung open, but much to the dismay of the Mane Six, the hall was already flooded with the buzzing of angry drones glaring fiercely as their horns ignited. At that moment, the swarm returned in greater numbers to hem them in and harry from all sides. The heroes were completely cut off.
Taze was tired and angry. He didn’t think about it as he charged the swarm, flailing away with his weapons in both hands like a bladed windmill. Shawn, meanwhile, had lined up his weapons and engaged. He was getting severely worn down from all the fighting, and he was almost certain he was feeling heavier than usual.
Matthew swore and fired. The others had practically sealed their fate with their actions. The bolt grazed one of the drones in the shoulder and sent it careening through the air as it reacted to the concoctions that were injected into its bloodstream by the dart’s passing. It eventually crashed into a fountain, where its eyes rolled and it spasmed briefly before falling limply in the shallow water. Moonshade swung and lunged with all the skills at her disposal, but still the creatures came, each striking probingly, pushing the humans and the mares closer together. The end result would be inevitable.
Taze got dogpiled by a group of Changelings, even as their comrades lay dying around him. All his swords lay broken and twisted on the ground or embedded in dying Changelings. Matthew fought to the last, spearing Changelings with his K-bar and crossbow bolts until they finally managed to pin him down and trap him with their uniquely sticky restraints. Moonshade was forced to drop her weapon when it was clear they weren’t going to be able to fight through this.
Shawn found it harder and harder to keep himself upright as he fought each Changeling nearby. His back was starting to burn whenever he turned until finally he couldn’t keep himself steady. Once his balance failed him, he collapsed onto the floor. Everything went dark before he even hit the ground.
By this point, there was little option for the six guardians of Equestria. With heads bowed low in dismay, they surrendered to the swarm and the inevitable march of shame that was to follow.
By the time the Changelings had left bearing their prizes, all was quiet in the square. Many of the civilians had already been rounded up or herded to other streets and alleyways for better management and processing. As such, no one was present to witness the Changeling who had fallen into the fountain raise his head and groan. He blinked slowly, and his eyes began to brighten. Then he shuddered. “My Queen. Why can’t I sense my Queen?” His eyes widened with horror when he realized it wasn’t just the queen he was missing. There was no song in his mind, no unity, no one-ness, no direction or control. There was just him and that dreadful, deafening silence. He had to get help. Surely, the other drones or the queen would know how to restore what he had lost. Surely, the hive would save him. He had to reach the hive! His head rose weakly, but his legs refused to respond. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t seek help, nor could he confirm the status of his fellow drones or their queen. He was alone. Tears welled up in his eyes as, for the first time in his life, this Changeling endured a breakdown as a true individual. He sobbed. “My queen, don’t leave me alone….”
The wedding hall was the same as it had been the previous evening. The buntings were just as elegant. Shining Armor stood atop the dais staring blankly with shrunken pupils and irises as a green tint overwhelmed the white of his sclera and his natural blue. A new decoration hung from the ceiling in the form of one solar diarch who was completely wrapped in a pulsing green cocoon. A very much worried spike stood next to where Cadance had been firmly rooted to the spot by a similar substance. The mare gaped in dismay when the double doors opened to reveal the escort, including a downtrodden Twilight and her friends. Two changelings had restrained Rainbow Dash’s forelegs as they escorted her to be on the safe side. A thrashing Taze, a panting Matthew, and a growling Moonshade each offered what resistance they could against their captors, but there was little chance of their breaking free at this point. Shawn’s recumbent form laid atop a group of Changelings. And as they approached to present their prize to their queen, a slick red swath painted across some of their chitin before his body landed on the floor.
“What is this?” Chrysalis asked.
“This is the one you had cast into the caves, my queen,” one of the Changelings responded as it bowed obsequiously. “It appears to have returned from the grave, only to die again in battle at the vault that holds the elements of harmony. It is your glory and your victory. We thought it only right to present this creature to you as a sign of your conquest.”
“And why does it still have its weapons?” she demanded.
“We could not remove them from its grip, my queen. Even in death, something resists the probing of our magic, and its grip is too strong upon the spear to break.”
Taze growled and attempted to break free.
Chrysalis smirked. “Aww, the poor beasts are upset at the loss of their friends. Don’t worry. You’ll be joining him soon enough.”
“We’ll take your swarm with us,” Matthew spat.
“Brave words, but bravery is all you have.” She looked to the element bearers, then to her drones. “You do realize the reception’s been canceled, don’t you? Go! Feed!”
At their queen’s command, the drones swarming in the room all zipped for the double doors, hissing hungrily. A green aura surrounded the heavy doors and slammed them shut behind, leaving Chrysalis alone with her captives.
“You know, I really must thank you all.” Chrysalis rapidly shot spurts of her own ichor to immobilize Taze, Moonshade, and Matthew before they could act. “Honestly, you all played your parts beautifully,” she taunted. “Only Twilight here doubted me, and the five of you were so focused on what this wedding could do for each of you, you never even stopped to think. Not even the wise and benevolent Celestia!” Chrysalis laughed exultantly.
Applejack approached slowly behind her friend. “Sorry, Twi. We should’ve listened to you.”
“You know,” Taze growled, “apologizing now is really disingenuous.”
“Okay, did I miss something here while I was in those caves?” Twilight practically shouted. “Because clearly, something happened to make you angry with my friends, and I have absolutely no idea what it could be.”
“Oh, this is just too precious.” Chrysalis laughed. “Did none of them tell you? Did none of your oh so precious friends fess up to what they did?”
“Fess up to what?” Twilight asked. “Whatever may have gone wrong, I’m confident we can fix it together. It can’t have been as bad as the Smartypants incident,” she muttered the last part.
Grinning, Chrysalis lit her horn and projected the memory of the events in the throne room for all to see. “You tell me.”
Twilight stared silently at the projection for a while as the friends averted their eyes. Even Spike looked ashamed.
“Twilight, I … we….” Applejack was at a loss for words.
Twilight held up a hoof for silence as she watched the projection. Her eyes watered as she observed how her brother disowned her, followed by her friends leaving her to suffer alone, and last but not least, the cold rebuke from her beloved teacher. The pain on her face was obvious, and as Taze watched her reaction, he could feel his fingers digging into his palm. Had he not been wearing gloves, he would have drawn blood.
When it was done Twilight was giving labored breaths as she worked to get her emotions in order. Her body shook with the shock of what she had witnessed. Perhaps the one thing that sustained her was the compassion that shone in Cadance’s eyes. The purple mare worked hard to control herself. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, she managed to lift her head.
“This changes nothing right now,” Twilight said, doing her best to look at Chrysalis with a defiant glare. “First, we deal with you.”
“Oh? And what can you do that your beloved princesses could not?” Chrysalis chuckled as she turned from the group and flew toward the window to look down on Canterlot as the swarm ran free. “This day has been just perfect,” she sang to herself as she began to gloat.
Twilight crept silently toward where Cadance had renewed her struggles against the ichor that Chrysalis had bound her with. “If anyone can bring Shining back from mind control, it’s you, Cadance,” Twilight whispered. Her horn erupted with magic to purge the substance. “Go to him, while you still have the chance.”
As the Alicorn of love, Cadance bore what was perhaps the one unique power that could break Chrysalis’ hold, despite being at the lowest of her reserves. For love, despite its many flaws, always has been and always will be an infinite force. And despite the pain of what she had witnessed, Cadance still loved her white knight, her Shining Armor. She wept at the lack of response, even as she smiled to look on that face. “This was supposed to be the happiest day of our lives,” she said softly. “Please don’t tell me it’s too late to make it so.” She embraced her stallion, and as she did so, electricity arced along her horn, giving birth to a single heart-shaped bubble. It floated to Shining armor’s face and merged at the base of his horn. With a gentle flash of light, the green was purged, and Shining Armor’s deep blue orbs shone brightly again.
Shining Armor blinked and shook his head to clear it of the fog that still remained as he struggled to get his bearings. “I-is the wedding over?” He gazed on the face of his sister and her five friends for only a moment before that view was obscured by the great threat that he had sworn to ward off for the sake of his beloved and his sister both.
“It’s all over,” Chrysalis gloated. She continued to exult over her triumph, even as she belittled Shining Armor and his efforts to bring his power to bear.
‘Breathe,’ the barest flicker of thought passed through Shawn’s head as his eyes opened weakly, slowly. And finally, his chest rose farther than it had been as he desperately tried to pull in more oxygen to his burning lungs.
“My power is useless now. I … I don’t have the strength to repel them.” Shining Armor’s voice. Exhausted, dejected.
‘Help.’ Though try as he might, there was no way Shawn could get help. He could feel the individual parts of his body ache as they barely clung to life.
“My love will give you strength.” Cadance. Faithful. Strong. Kind. Willing to throw herself into danger for the sake of others. She didn’t deserve this. No one deserved this.
‘Move.’ His grip tightened around the glaive’s shaft. Slowly, he let it go. There wasn’t a chance he could use it right now. He moved his arm and slowly planted it on the ground next to his chest before pushing himself up onto his knees.
Laughter. “What a lovely but absolutely ridiculous sentiment!”
‘Come on.’ He grimaced as blood moved through his body, flaring up more pain as muscles tensed. He was completely disoriented. The room spun beneath him as he looked around, taking in his location. The others were there, detained. That laughter. Familiar. The same as the caves. Chrysalis. She must have revealed herself.
“No! You will not!”
Ringing. An angry hiss. She was preparing some kind of spell toward Cadance and Shining Armor.
Another hum. “Get away from my family, you ugly parasite!”
Twilight!
Shawn grit his teeth as his anger boiled to the surface once again. It was weak, but it would be enough. His heart picked up as adrenaline slowly pulled his body back from the brink. There was no way he’d survive, so maybe … it was time to ignore that last part of his mind.
He pushed himself onto his feet. Numbness finally greeted his motions as he stood upright. In fact, he was starting to feel fine. ‘Once more, onto my last.’ He nodded weakly to himself as he widened his stance, then finally took off toward Chrysalis at a dead run.
He’d interrupt her spell, one way or another.
There was no more time to think, no more time to plan. It was all or nothing. He was already dead. If he could keep the others from the same fate, he would. The force of the collision was nothing compared to when he’d fallen on that Changeling’s horn. His arms wrapped tightly around the barrel, one above and one below, clinging to the smooth chitin and squeezing with all his might.
There would be no getting away for her. The world became a pinpoint of focus as legs flailed and bashed against his legs and shoulders. One foot in front of the other. One step farther away from the people she could hurt. He didn’t even register the glass as he burst through the window insert. He didn’t register the step up, nor the launch into empty space. All he knew, all he was, was one thing, one purpose.
Stop Chrysalis.
Shawn heard a thunderous boom from inside the room as the large doors flew open and Luna entered the hall.
“No!” Taze screamed.
“Shawn!” Matthew’s familiar voice faded behind as the doppler effect worked its magic. “No, damn it, no!”
Wind whistled as Shawn’s legs swung around Chrysalis’ torso to squeeze and pin the wings. His arm wrapped around her neck and yanked back with the aid of his other arm. He didn’t hear her choking. But he knew he’d immobilized her. He knew she wasn’t casting. That was enough.
It was good enough.
The great wooden doors were thrown open with a thunderous boom as Luna tore into the room with her guards in hot pursuit, only to see the remnants of the shattered window and the distraught faces of the captives.
“No!” Taze yelled. The goop on his arms strained as he attempted to pull free, to do something, anything!
“Shawn! No, damn it, no!” Matthew stared after the void where his friend had once stood. The stained glass was all that remained of Shawn now. A breeze fluttered the buntings weakly as Twilight gaped at where the human had gone. Her horn’s light faded slowly as she swallowed heavily and tears welled up in her eyes.
Moments later, the combined power of Shining Armor and Cadance flooded through the chamber and into every nook and cranny of the castle before spreading out over all of Canterlot in a repelling force that was less a barrier and more of a banishment. All signs of Changeling influence and essence were completely neutralized. The magic was thorough, destroying every remnant of ichor used to secure their victims in place, including the cocoon that surrounded Princess Celestia. The screams and shrieks of panicked Ponies were soon replaced with the dismayed shouts of thousands of Changelings. Many were cut off abruptly with unpleasant squelches. Others faded into the distance as the force of the spell catapulted the creatures and scattered them to the winds. It was as if the very power of the barrier had been keyed completely to neutralize Chrysalis’ influence. And, in a way, perhaps it had at that. Would that it could have undone the one act they wouldn’t be able to remedy.
Taze booked it for the ledge Shawn had fallen from. His left arm hung limply at his side from where it had been dislocated while attempting to reach for his friend earlier. “Get someone down there!” he screamed at, well, anyone.
Matthew was already running for the doors. ‘I was supposed to be the first to go. I have the poorest health of the lot,’ he thought angrily, even as the room began to spin. His shoulder bashed against the door frame as his chest throbbed. “Damn it,” he swore as he laid a hand over his chest.
“We’ll go,” Shining said quickly as he and Cadance ran to the window. The mare had already flapped her wings and seized her groom before they took to the air and began to glide down with Luna following close on their heels.
Twilight was torn, but finally turned her attention to the solar diarch. “Princess Celestia, can you stand?”
“I’m all right, Twilight. Thank you.” The Alicorn rose slowly to her hooves and shook her head. She approached the humans. “Stand next to me. I’ll get us down there,” she promised.
Twilight shook her head. “Let me. You still need to recover from what Chrysalis did to you.” She looked to the two humans. “Taze, Matthew? I need you two to stand close to me to get you down there. I was able to transport Shawn and Cadance before, so taking the two of you shouldn’t be any more strain on me.”
Taze gritted his teeth but approached Twilight as he nursed the swaying arm. Matthew did not look happy, but moved with assistance from Luna’s guards and Moonshade to stand next to Taze. One flash of purple light later, they were standing on the ground floor outside the wedding hall. There was no sign of the Changeling queen’s body, but a long jagged horn oozed green blood from the base that had been torn away. The power of the dead man’s grip had prevailed, even as the spell carried the rest of Chrysalis away. The human didn’t move. If he could still breathe, the motion was imperceptible to the naked eye. His eyes were closed, and his face was flat. His lips seemed to curve ever so slightly at the corners, but that could easily have been a trick of the eyes. Cadance and Shining Armor both bowed their heads as Luna stood imposingly over the body.
“Princess Luna, is he…?” Twilight couldn’t bring herself to finish the question.
Matthew shoved his way forward and knelt by Shawn’s face. He hovered his hand over the human’s mouth first, then brought two fingers to his neck. He waited a few moments, then produced a dollar bill from his pocket and held it over Shawn’s lips. His eyes widened at the sight of the barest shift. He practically jabbed his fingers at the same spot on the neck again. His body shook as he whipped around and shouted at the top of his lungs. “MEDIC! Someone get a medic down here! He’s alive!” His eyes watered as he looked over his friend’s recumbent form. “He’s alive….”
“You heard him, get someone down here!” Taze barked as he rushed to his friend’s side.
“Aunt Luna,” Cadance began, even as the sound of rapidly approaching hooves began to thunder in their ears.
“I’ll get him to the healers. You worry about these two,” Luna said. She wrapped him in a careful cocoon of magic, spreading her power over him one filmy veil at a time, rather than the usual full fledged application that they had seen her use so often when handling her hammer or other objects.
“You must be Shawn’s friends,” Cadance said softly as she approached the other two humans. Shawn had begun to rise ever so slowly under Luna’s gentle ministrations. “I’m in your friend’s debt. If there’s anything I can do for either of you, please, don’t hesitate to ask.”
“That goes double for me,” Shining Armor agreed. “You four saved our lives and the lives of all of Equestria.”
Matthew rose to his feet with help from Taze to offer leverage. The ponies could hear his joints crackle and pop. He gripped Taze’s good shoulder as another dizzy spell struck him. “Y-you’re welcome,” he grunted.
“Thank you, Princess Cadance. That means a lot, coming from you,” Taze said as he looked Shining Armor in the eye. “Just from you.”
“Can the two of you walk?” Cadance asked. “We can carry you, if that’s necessary.”
“I’m fine” Taze said. “I can get there my—” The world suddenly became very fuzzy as he realized the pain in his gut seconds before the world swam into darkness.
Matthew had no warning as his support gave way and he fell to the ground with Taze. “Uh, … a little help to a hospital would be nice… Taze didn’t get to eat recently. I think his blood sugar crashed. And … I should probably get checked for bruises and the like,” he conceded, then gave a mirthless chuckle. “Guess we’ll be in the same wing as Shawn, more than likely.”
“I’ll carry him,” Cadance offered. “Just place him on my back.” A minute later, with primary assistance from Twilight and a few other Unicorn guardsponies, Taze’s unconscious form laid astride the princess’ back.
Twilight turned briefly from the sleeping human to look back at the edge of the crowd that had gathered, where her friends waited with anxious expressions. Spike sat astride Rarity’s back, and his eyes never strayed from Twilight. The purple mare looked back to Cadance and Shining Armor. “You all go on ahead. I need to take care of a few things before I can catch up.”
“Are you sure, Twilight?” Cadance asked.
Twilight nodded. “Yes. This isn’t something that can wait. If I put it off now, things will only get worse.”
Cadance smiled lovingly at her. “You really have changed a lot since I babysat you, haven’t you?” She offered one brief nuzzle of affection, then nodded as Shawn’s recumbent form was finally raised to sufficient height in Luna’s magic. “We’ll see you soon. I’m sure Shining will have a lot to say to you then, won’t you, dear?” she asked pointedly.
Shining nodded mutely as his ears dropped low. “Yeah….”
Twilight nodded again. “I’ll … see you soon.”
With those final parting words spoken, the two princesses and their party disappeared in a flash of light, leaving Twilight to face a challenge that would perhaps be even more trying than saving Canterlot had been.
Extended Holiday Chapter 007: Pain! Lots and Lots of Pain!
“And so, the hero Link struck down the evil demon with his sword of evil’s bane,” Taze said mysteriously as he talked to the small brown colt in the hospital bed beside him. “Though even as he landed the final blow, he knew that the battle was not over, and someday the evil would rise again. But for now, he could rest.”
The small brown colt with two-toned orange mane and tail gaped at Taze from his bed across the way. “Woah,” he breathed. The console he had been playing with an hour earlier now lay forgotten at his side. “That was incredible!”
Taze grinned. “Glad you enjoyed it.”
“But that can’t have been the only evil he had to fight, right? I mean, magic’s always got something new to face. Does he ever travel through time again?”
“Oh, it was not the only evil.” Taze nodded. “But Link would not be the only hero.”
“He wouldn’t? But I thought he was the hero of time. Doesn’t that mean he’s always the hero?”
“Yes and no.” Taze grinned. “Have you ever heard of the term reincarnation?”
The colt shook his head. “No. What’s that?”
“It’s the idea that when someone or something dies, they will be reborn again as a baby and start a new life cycle.”
“Does that mean it happens to everyone in that story?”
Taze shook his head. “Not quite. You remember the three goddesses?”
The colt nodded.
“Each had picked one to be their special champion. The goddess of wisdom chose the princess. The goddess of power chose the evil king, and the goddess of courage chose the hero. It was such that the three would be reborn in a constant cycle for many, many eons.”
The colt frowned, then cocked his head. “Okay. But how long’s an eon?”
“A few hundred years,” Taze said.
The colt whistled. “That’s a long time.”
“Yup.” Taze nodded. “There are other stories I’ll have to tell you later.”
The colt frowned. “But aren’t you going to be released soon?”
Taze nodded. His dislocated arm had been easily, if painfully, reset, but he’d been kept for observation for the last two days after his collapse. “I’ll visit you.”
The colt pouted. “And I was hoping to visit the arcade here during the wedding, too.”
“I’m sure you’ll get another chance. You should be glad you and your mother are both okay. A broken leg is the least of what could have happened.”
“Yeah.” He sighed. “Thanks for helping me out, Mister. It’s … nice to have someone to just talk to after everything.” He smiled timidly. “I don’t have any bits I can offer, but you can play some on my game, if you want.”
“Honestly, Button, it’s just been worth it having someone to talk to. I’ll try your game out some other time. Okay?”
Button frowned. “All right. But … maybe I can tell you some stories from back home, then.” He chuckled. “You wouldn’t believe the stuff we get up to in Ponyville.”
“Oh, go ahead. I'm sure this will be good.” He chuckled.
“Did I just hear somebody mention Ponyville?” Matthew smiled as a Pegasus wheeled him into the room in a wheelchair.
“Oh, hey, Matthew,” Taze greeted. “Button Mash here was just about to tell me some stories about his hometown.”
Matthew grinned. “By all means.” He nodded toward the colt. “A pleasure to meet you, Button Mash. My name is Matthew Connor. In case you hadn’t guessed, Taze and I are old friends.” He chuckled. “And it looks like he may have made a new friend in you, if my ears don’t deceive me.”
“He’s one of the best storytellers I’ve ever met!”
Matthew chuckled. “Oh? You’ll have to tell me which ones he’s shared with you later, then. For now, though, I think the spotlight is meant to be on you, young colt. Just what tales of your home were you hoping to share?”
Button Mash grinned. “I’ll start with the tale of the great bunny stampede.”
Twilight Sparkle smiled timidly as she entered the hospital ward. “Hello? Taze? Matthew?” she called. “Am I in the right room?”
“Miss Sparkle?” Matthew responded. “We’re down here, by the window.”
A few moments later, Twilight paced beyond the curtains to where the two friends laid on their beds. They no longer wore their hospital gowns. Instead, each was garbed in their respective spare clothing as delivered by a Thestral representative from Luna’s guard. A tiny purple dragon with green spikes on his head peeked out from behind the mare to peer at the humans.
“Hello, Twilight. It’s nice to see you’re doing well,” Taze said. “Also, I appreciate you making sure to visit without your … usual entourage,” Taze noted.
Twilight winced. “Yes, Princess Luna advised against it. And since she seems to know you three the best, I decided to follow her advice.” Twilight sighed. “I’ve … also been asked to talk with you about Shawn. The doctors said you’ve been asking to see him?”
Matthew nodded. “We were wondering why he wasn’t in our room. Your healing magics worked so well for us. We half expected to see him getting wheeled into the ward a few hours after we woke up.”
Twilight winced. “Even magic has its limits, Matthew. That’s part of the reason why I’m here.”
“Are you saying we can’t see him?”
Twilight shook her head. “No, you can. But before you do, you need to be ready for what you’ll be walking into.”
“To be frank, Twilight, there is no way he should be alive right now. As we’re not being taken to a morgue, I’ll be happy to know he’s still breathing,” Taze said.
“It won’t be pretty,” she warned. “The doctors had to pump out his lungs, realign his bones, set his spinal column, and put his whole body in a cast to keep him from moving in his sleep. In all likelihood, … he may never walk again. And we still don’t know how his brain will react to the trauma. The amount of bruising and concussion he experienced could leave him a vegetable for the rest of his days.”
“Thank you for your honesty, Twilight,” Matthew said. “But if it’s all right with you, we’d like to focus on taking things one step at a time. Like Taze said, the fact that Shawn is even alive is enough for us for now. And having the chance to visit with him, even if it’s only for a little while, might help to guide him back to us.”
Twilight nodded. “Spike and I will show you two the way.” She smiled at the bed where Button Mash lay completely immersed in his video game. Meanwhile, Spike waved nervously toward the two humans.
“You okay there, little guy?” Taze asked as he and Matthew rose to join the pair.
Spike averted his gaze. “I, uh, … kind of thought you’d still be mad at me. You know, … after everything you said after the rehearsal….”
Matthew raised a brow. “Why should we be mad at you? You’re still what we’d call a minor in our world. You were just following the adults, weren’t you?”
“But—”
“But nothing,” Taze said. “You acted to what you saw others doing around you. You’re young enough to still be learning how the world works.”
“So, you’re not going to be mad at me?”
Twilight smiled kindly. “I told you they wouldn’t hold it against you.”
Spike smiled softly. “So, does that mean it’s cool if I get to know you guys?”
Taze chuckled. “Sure. I see no issue with that.”
The ICU unit where Shawn resided was flanked by a number of guards at the entry. One of them held a list on a clipboard and scanned it as the four approached. “Names?” she asked.
“Twilight Sparkle, Spike, Matthew Conner, and Taze Klim.”
She checked the list, then nodded. “Hold still, please.”
One of the other guards came forward with a squirt bottle and sprayed a mist in each of the members’ faces. When no visible reaction occurred, she nodded to the one with the clipboard. “They’re real.”
The guards pulled back from the door. “You’re free to enter, Lady Sparkle.”
Twilight winced as they passed through the doors. “I really wish they’d stop calling me that.”
Matthew couldn’t help but chuckle. “The price of fame.”
“Now don’t you start,” Twilight said.
“If the lady wishes,” Matthew teased. Then he sighed. “My apologies, Twilight. It’s a human trait. We often enjoy poking fun at our friends and closer acquaintances.”
“Sounds like you and Rainbow Dash would get along swimmingly,” Twilight muttered.
Then the time for chatter was past as they approached the lone bed in the room. The steady beeping of a magical heart monitor measured the pulses of life that struggled for every inch. True to the mare’s warning, the human’s body was indeed encased in plaster, though not so heavily covered as the mare had described. It appeared that in the days since his initial checking in, the human’s body had managed to mend certain portions. His hands were free, as was his right arm. His left arm and torso were still heavily coated, and the plaster stretched down to just above his knees. A series of pulleys and supports held him in place as he breathed within the cast. His eyes were shut, and an IV drip with a brightly colored fluid flowed through his cast into his bloodstream.
“And the stab wound?” Matthew asked as he gazed at his friend.
“From what I’ve been told, that was one of the easier things to heal. He’ll scar a little from it, but that’s the worst his body will have to show after,” Twilight answered.
“I’m guessing he barely survived?” Taze asked.
“Honestly, there’s no barely about it. He should have been dead. There was severe internal hemorrhaging from multiple points in his system. Muscle and nerve endings were cut, blood vessels burst from the trauma. He’s lucky he didn’t open any arteries. About the only way I can think of for how he survived all that trauma and the shock that went with it is that the gods decided they wanted him to keep living.”
“You have gods in this world?” Matthew asked.
“Oh, yes,” Twilight said. “Though only two that we have actual verifiable evidence of existing. There’s Faust, our creator goddess, and her father, Sleipnir. A lot of people actually believe Princess Celestia and Princess Luna are Faust’s daughters. It’s why so many people swear using their names.”
“What about the other races?” Taze asked.
“Well, each have their own theologies that they adhere to. Some don’t have any gods at all, and focus more on achieving spiritual enlightenment. I remember reading about Minotaurs one time after Fluttershy took a course from one. They worship three gods called the hecatoncheires. The Zebras seem to focus more on the spirit and honoring nature than they do on any particular deity, though they claim to have been adopted by the children of the earth, whatever that means. Oh, and then there’s the Gryphons. They worship the winds from each of the four cardinal directions. Each one is supposed to embody an aspect that they try to live up to throughout their lives, so they can be worthy to stand before those gods in the next life.”
“You don’t believe their gods exist?” Taze asked. “Your tone seems overly clinical.”
“I believe they can exist,” Twilight corrected. “But since there’s no direct evidence that proves it one way or the other, I try to keep myself out of any of those kinds of arguments and just focus on what facts and knowledge we do have.”
“Fair enough.” Taze nodded. “So, I guess the next question is what comes next?”
“For now, we need to be assured his mental faculties are intact,” a familiar voice spoke as Luna entered the room.
“Didn’t that end badly the last time you tried?” Matthew asked. “I mean, assuming you’re planning what I think you’re planning.”
“Admittedly, yes, but I am not delving into his memories this time, just ensuring he is intact.”
“If … if you do get to talk to him. Can you … tell him we’re waiting for him? I don’t know if it’ll help, but if it can help him or comfort him, I’d like him to know.”
“I’ll be sure to.” Luna nodded. “Though it would probably be best if you all waited in the hall.”
“Is it that dangerous?”
“I honestly have no answer for you,” Luna replied.
Twilight rested a gentle hoof on Matthew’s leg. “Come on, Matthew. Let’s do what she asked. Princess Luna knows what she’s doing. You both trust her, don’t you?”
Matthew clenched his hands. “I know we can trust you, at least, Twilight.” He sighed. “What do you think, Taze?”
Taze sighed after some contemplation. “Best leave her to it. The last thing we need is to find out he’s a vegetable.”
Matthew nodded. “Let’s go, then, before I lose my nerve.”
Twilight looked back just once before they closed the door. “Good luck, Princess.” Then the door closed, and a bright white light began to flow from the cracks around it.
Shawn stood before a Changeling’s corpse, just recently deceased as he removed the glaive from its throat. He was near the room assigned to his friends and himself, and given the glaive’s appearance, it was its first use since the invasion. Beyond that, however, the hall almost fluctuated as static covered anything he was uncertain on. “How long...?” he muttered to himself, looking to the glaive in his hand.
Luna stood off to the side, manipulating the dreamscape around her to be unnoticed as she observed what was happening.
Before anything more could happen, everything suddenly shifted, and the world spun beneath their feet. Shawn leaned against a large crystal, grimacing in pain as he tried to clear his head. “A day, at least. The wedding.” His thoughts continued on as he followed the same path as before, finding Twilight and Cadance. “How long was I left bleeding?”
He grabbed the side of his head as the world fell to obscurity once more. “No odds could have been changed. Maybe a shift in guard, a different time, but not that,” he muttered his thoughts.
“Why?” was the question he landed on, looking to the glaive in his hand once again. “Everyone else is all right at the least. ...I think?”
“Your friends are safe, Lord Shawn,” Luna said as she made her presence known.
Shawn turned toward Luna slowly before giving a small nod. “That’s good,” he replied before a faint chuckle escaped him.
“Your body is broken, and you’ve been unconscious for some time. I entered your psyche to make sure you were still … intact.”
“I should be dead,” Shawn replied as a matter of fact. “I lost a lot of blood, and … that drop should have ended it. Completely.”
Luna nodded. “Yes. Our doctors were somewhat baffled by that as well.”
Shawn looked his hand over as he thought. “It’s … more effort than I expected.”
“You thought we’d simply let you die?” Luna asked.
“We were used as bait,” Shawn replied as he clenched his hand into a fist. After a moment, he relaxed his grip and lowered his hand to his side before turning to Luna once again.
“Ah,” Luna nodded sadly. “Yes. And it was a particularly distasteful tactic. But the thing about Celestia is she will always attempt to put herself morally in the right. Be it that or the sound verbal thrashing your friend gave her, she is likely making sure that every chance to survive is afforded to you short of phoenix tears.”
“So guilt drives her actions.” Shawn hummed to himself. “What a nation.”
She sighed. “Well, unfortunately, she’s been ruling alone for a thousand years. Also, neither of us is quite the ruler our father was.”
Shawn looked to Luna once more before sighing. “At least you’ve been direct with me, for the most part. Though some things still elude me.”
“I’m a warrior, Lord Shawn, mostly a blunt instrument. My sister is a politician at heart.”
“And yet, that one part of your statement keeps confusing me. Why do you keep using that title?”
“So there is no confusion between us, can you clarify that statement?” Luna asked.
“You keep calling me a ‘lord.’ You’ve seen my memories. You’ve seen who I am and what I am. Why do you keep up the act established when we both know it’s a falsehood, made up BS that came by complete accident and fear? You aren’t an idiot, and neither is your sister.”
“I’d have thought Crescent would have explained Thestral culture to you. It is my culture as well.” Luna smirked. “We do not give titles based on land or because some crazy mare throws a sword at you. We bestow titles based on actions and earned respect.”
Shawn’s head drooped as he looked at the floor. “He didn’t get that far, no,” he commented softly. “But, still … I’m just some foreign creature who got lucky.”
Luna gave a deep laugh. “My friend, what do you think combat is? Not everyone is born with a body that can survive all but the gravest of injuries and strength that can powder stone. Luck is what every warrior must believe in, just as they accept that one day, it will fail them.”
“Then luck weighed heavily on me for that all.” Shawn sighed. “I’ve never used a sword for combat, nor a dagger, nor glaive even. Ex Divinia etiam, I was a carpenter. I built furniture or some strange custom things to order.”
“My father used to tell me when a problem was that big, break it into smaller parts and work on those separately. Eventually, the big picture will come to you.”
Shawn rubbed the back of his neck. “I suppose he must have known what he was talking about if he was ruling a whole kingdom.”
“Not in the slightest, according to him.” Luna laughed. “But it gave me the courage to accomplish a lot of things in my life. I realize my sister has a lot to make up for, but I hope you will consider me a friend going forward?”
Shawn was silent for a moment before giving a small nod. “You’ve been honest with me, and though I despise the situation I was thrown into, you at least gave me a warning.”
Luna nodded. “I should return to tell your friends. They worry about you a lot.” She flared her wings, then paused. “Oh, one more question before I go. Which fits better for a knife handle, the blue or the gold?”
Shawn blinked a few times. “I … suppose it depends on the material? Lighter materials would be gold, darker would be blue.”
Luna nodded. “I’ll attempt to visit you regularly and keep you updated. I would not be in a hurry to wake up, honestly. It will not be a pleasant experience.”
“I … would rather accept the pain than be left alone. My mind wanders a lot, and I’m starting to feel anxious for some reason.”
“Very well.” Luna nodded. “Just … try not to bite your tongue off from the pain,” she warned.
With that, she released her dreamwalking spell and returned to the hospital room. Little time had passed in the waking realm, thanks to that unique aspect of time that exists in dreams. But it proved sufficient for her needs as she turned from the bed and opened the door with her magic.
“You may come in,” she called out.
The group entered cautiously as Twilight frowned in concern. “Is he all right?”
“The good news is that his mind is intact and in order.” Luna smiled. “He wants to wake up. The bad news will be when he wakes up…” She trailed off as she turned to the human in the bed.
“Fuuuuuuuuck…” Shawn exhaled the word in a long drawn out hiss as his brain processed the pain he was experiencing.
“... That will happen.”
Donut Joe, or Pony Joe as the locals liked to call him, was an expert on donuts. As a pastry chef, he prided himself on being able to craft that extra special sugary treat that fit each person who entered his store. He had a sixth sense about his customers, and he was always ready to serve each one the ideal fit for their day. And that was what troubled him so much. Why had he decided to craft a maple donut with bacon in the middle of the morning rush? None of his customers ate meat during that time. He sighed and shook his head as he laid the creation aside and turned back to his coffee pot. His horn glowed as he measured out the grounds and inserted the filter to brew a fresh pot. Cream and sugar waited with mixing straws to allow Ponies the chance to blend their drinks how they liked. The usual assortment of extra donuts laid on his display shelves while fresh baked pies sat on tiers at the edge of the counter near his walk-in refrigerator.
Taze looked around as he walked through the door, seemingly oblivious to the stares that followed the sight of him, Matthew, and their escort. “You're sure this is the best place for coffee?” he asked.
“Let’s just say a key ingredient in that potion of ours for staying up in the day comes from this shop,” Moonshade replied.
“Well, as long as they sell hot chocolate, too, I’m game,” Matthew said.
Joe raised a quizzical brow as the new customers approached, but that was the only indication of anything out of the ordinary. “Moonshade. It’s been a while,” Joe noted. “How’re things up at the castle?”
“You’ve read the papers, Joe. You know how things are right now.”
“I know the papers aren’t always truthful,” he said as he sent a bolt of magic toward the coffee. Steaming water hissed as it began to stream through the filter and into the pot. “Give me a couple of minutes, and I’ll have a fresh pot ready for you.” He smiled as he levitated the plate and its donut onto the counter. “Guess I must’ve made this one for you. Either that or one of your big friends there, I suppose.”
“Is that maple and bacon?” Taze asked.
Joe nodded. “Yup. Most meat eaters go for pork round these parts. Or venison, if you can catch the deer.” He shrugged. “Way I see it, you can never go wrong with bacon when it comes to a carnivore.”
“That's because bacon’s amazing.” Taze laughed, taking the donut.
“And what can I get for you two, then?” he asked as he turned his attention to Moonshade and Matthew. “I don’t have any medals, but my donuts are the best in the business. I’d say you more than earned a tab.” He chuckled. “Go on. Pick what you want. It’s my treat.”
Matthew looked at the items. “Uh … I’ll have a hot chocolate, please, and … maybe a tea cake?” he asked, even as he eyed the jelly donuts.
“Now there’s an order I haven’t had in a while.” Joe chuckled. “I’ll bake you one to knock your socks off.”
“Tea cake? Really?” Taze asked with a chuckle.
“What? I have a craving for it, and maybe some herbal tea.”
“A bun, Matthew,” Taze deadpanned. “You're asking for a bun. It has neither tea nor cake in it. It is simply a bun.”
“Oh, I thought they had glaze or nuts or raisins in them? Well, I feel silly.”
“I mean, probably somebody heard the term tea cake and decided to make them like that, but yeah, it’s a bun.”
“Boys, I’m loaded with donuts up the wazoo. If you want another one, it’s not gonna be a problem,” Joe assured them. “Hey, Moonsahde, you wanna get in on the action?”
“Yeah. Bring us a platter and a carafe, Joe,” Moonshade called out. “On the palace’s bill.”
Joe shook his head. “Not this time. You and Princess Luna fought like demons. Like I said, this is my treat.” He chuckled and levitated a platter. “Let’s see if we can’t wake up those tastebuds with a little sugar.”
“Are you sure I can’t just sleep in one of your barracks?” Matthew asked as he gazed across the desk to the Thestral Commander. “I trust the Lunar Guard more, after everything we’ve been through. And seeing how Shawn’s stuck in the hospital, and Taze is upset with Celestia at the moment, to say the least, we’d rather not go back to staying in the castle. To be honest, some other form of external housing would be preferable, either something close to your barracks or the hospital.” He sighed. “I know that’s probably asking a lot. I know that with the real royal wedding happening, there isn’t likely to be any room at an inn.”
“I can’t say I don’t understand your position,” Commander Nightshade admitted. “This wasn’t something we planned on. It will take time for me to see what we can do.”
“That’s all I ask.” He chuckled. “I mean, we’d be happy to stay in the hospital, but there’s no real reason for us to stay there as patients, and we wouldn’t dream of taking up beds meant for other people who need help. To be frank, those three days I spent there were the shortest stay I’ve ever had in one, not counting when I got my wisdom teeth removed.”
“For now, I might have one option for you, but that would depend on your attitude toward those of the non-equestrian variety.”
“Captain, before coming to Equestria, I loved studying other cultures from my home planet. Back home, we only had one truly sapient species. From what I have observed, you have as many sapient species as we had nations back home. So, if anything, that will be an adventure, and humanity, as a general stereotype, loves adventure.”
Nightshade nodded a few times. “Have Moonshade direct you to the lower quarter. Look for an inn called the Traitor's Tail. Tell the Gryphon at the counter you're there for the reservation for Artemis.”
Matthew grinned. “I love this! I’ll go talk to Moonshade right away and inform Taze. I hope you’ll help with moving our luggage?”
“I’ll have the Night Guard take care of it after the shift change. It’s for the best that the Solar Guard know very little about this.”
“I won’t say a word,” Matthew promised.
“Everything should be expensed to Luna's account. So don’t worry about money during your stay. Just don’t go overboard.”
“Back home, my father found out that he underspent on an account, and his company refunded him what they felt was normal expenses. Suffice it to say, I follow his example. I can be very frugal. I suppose we should establish the kind of budget that would be permitted, though, so there are no mistakes made. Permission to go for middle-of-the-road expenses?”
Nightshade nodded, then fixed the human with his one good eye “Remember. This meeting didn’t happen.”
Matthew nodded. “Of course. I hope the intel I offered from our side of the attack has proven useful,” he added with a wink. “That is the reason you asked me to come here, after all, isn’t it?”
A hint of a smile twitched at Nightshade’s lips before settling back into that same hard mask. “You helped, human. That's more than many did.” With that, Nightshade got to his hooves. “Can you see yourself out, or should I get you a guide?”
“You never took Moonshade off our watch. If I have gotten to know her at all in the time we’ve been together, she’s probably outside waiting for the meeting to end to keep me from getting lost.”
Nightshade nodded again. “Then please leave. I have things to take care of.”
“Understood, captain.” Matthew moved to attention and offered a salute with his best military bearing. Then he performed a crisp about face and marched to the door.
The gravity in the air was palpable as Celestia approached the guarded chamber. The dark blue armor the guards wore glinted in the midday light, and their eyes flashed as they blinked at her approach before drawing their weapons.
“State your business,” one of them demanded.
Celestia nodded. “I’ve come to ask an audience with the patient, if he is willing to receive me.”
The guards kept their weapons leveled as they repeated the procedure they had for Taze, Matthew, and Moonshade. When there was no visible reaction from Celestia, they nodded.
“Princess Luna has made us aware of your intent. She has also asked us to honor Lord Shawn’s wishes, even over your own.”
Celestia nodded. “I understand.”
The guard passed through the doors, and a tense silence followed as the conference was held between the human and the Thestral. In due course, the guard returned with a sober expression. “He has agreed to see you,” she said with a coldly neutral tone. “You may enter.”
The room was quiet, and carried the kind of tension that seemed to suspend the seconds in their own separate eternities. Sunlight filtered through the window to spread over the floor as Celestia strode with the slow walk of a prisoner condemned. She squared her shoulders as she reached the bed, and raised her head to face the hero who had given everything for the sake of her kingdom. The hero she had deliberately put in harm’s way, and whose body now sat in forced suspension while it struggled to recover.
“I know I’m probably the last person you want to see right now,” she began softly. “I can’t defend my actions. I did what I did because the kingdom was at risk, and I knew you three would be able to smoke the threat out as an unknown.”
“Sure you did,” Shawn commented flatly as his gaze bored into her. “We’ve been here for two weeks at the most. You just threw us out there. Don’t give me that.”
Celestia’s jaw clenched. It was the only sign of the struggle within that she allowed to show. “Very well. I’ll speak to you plainly, then. Luna tells me that you prefer that kind of language, though it will likely leave both of us at greater odds than before.” She sighed and shook her head. “I am sorry—”
“No. You aren’t,” Shawn cut in. “Because there are only two ways that goes. Either you are a poor tactical leader and are completely incapable of understanding mortality and the risks of using bait or that ‘sorry,’ is insincere.” His brows lowered. “You don’t use bait unless you’re willing to lose it. Which means you were willing to gamble our lives.”
“Yes,” Celestia admitted. “I was. I was going to say I was sorry you were hurt, but that I was not sorry for what I did. I chose to put my people first. And I’m going to have to bear the consequences of that choice.”
“Some weight that must be, the lives of three humans with no connections in this world, nothing tying them to a singular thing. Next to nobody on the outside knowing we exist.” Shawn shook his head. “Sure.”
“The fact I’m visiting you here and now before any furor arises may seem like another political ploy to you. I can’t convince you otherwise, and my word probably means less than nothing to you now, but I am telling you the truth when I say I chose to come here and speak to you because you deserve it. Not as an honor, but as a right. It’s your right to judge me, to hate me, to say what you wish. And you need not fear reprise from me for it, though I suspect you wouldn’t, regardless.”
“One day,” Shawn spoke up. “One day, I’ll move on from this. One day, I’ll find a way to forgive you.” He gave a soft sigh as his gaze drifted toward the casts over his body. “But you know what I see right now, what I’ve been hearing?”
“From me or in your private thoughts?” Celestia asked.
“I see reminders. Every broken bone, every flash of pain that floods my nerves, every drop of blood I lost. I see reminders of what that choice did to me. The doctors talking amongst my friends about how there was a chance I was braindead, how there’s a chance I will never walk again.” He exhaled softly. “The mental scarring from this event. This is why I can’t forgive you, not anytime soon. What I see is the price we paid for your choice.”
Celestia nodded. “For what it’s worth, it is an infinite debt. And it is one that you may call upon whenever you wish.” She rose to all fours and turned back to the door. “I’m certain my presence distresses you. I’ll take my leave. You will likely see me again, but I will do my best to maintain a proper distance from you.” She paused by the doors. “You may not be of royal blood, but your words and your actions are worthy of such a mantle. There are only two others I’ve known to act in such a manner, regardless of circumstance.” Though Shawn could not see it, she smiled wryly. “Who knows? Perhaps the divine may yet have a purpose for you here.” Then she strode out the doors and closed them behind her.
Shawn waited a few seconds before sighing. “Ex Divinia etiam.
“You're sure he said down here?” Taze asked as he looked around their surroundings. It was certainly a lower district in the capital’s structure, but the quality of the buildings were difficult to differentiate from their fellows.
Moonshade rolled her eyes as she flicked her tail. Matthew looked to Taze. “We just have to follow Moonshade, Taze. The map also seems to agree with our progress. We’re just taking a roundabout path, probably to avoid possible trouble.”
“Actually, it was to avoid family members, but thanks for that,” Moonshade responded tersely.
“You have family here?” Matthew asked. He frowned as the memory of his own family’s faces flashed over his mind. Did they miss him? How worried must they have become by now?
Moonshade’s voice intruded on his reverie. “My sister and her foals live in this area. A lot of Thestrals live down here, actually.”
“I would love to meet some of your kinfolk sometime,” Matthew said. “After all, I know first hoof? Hand? That military life isn’t exactly normal. Home life must be different than on duty life.”
“Yeah, well, we don’t talk much,” Moonshade said. “Before Luna’s return, joining the guard was kind of like selling out.”
Matthew walked a little longer in silence. “You should see her or try to open up comms.” He gave a bitter laugh. “You never know when death or dimensional portals will take you away from family.” He squeezed Taze’s shoulder. “At least I have an adopted brother with me.”
She said nothing as she led them onwards. A series of signs and the occasional flash of golden writing over glass indicated the purpose of the buildings in the district as they passed by. Finally, they arrived at a nondescript stone building. Unlike many of its fellows, this one stretched up to four stories in height, and what appeared to be an aerie of sorts had been built into the topmost segment. Two signs jutted out from the face of the building, one at the topmost floor to mark the entrance there, and one on the ground floor. The image of a black Gryphon held an open book between its talons while its long slim black tail curved around its haunches. The words, Traitor’s Tail Inn had been carefully inscribed over the pages of the book.
“Well, I imagine that's us,” Taze said, examining the building.
Matthew looked at the inn and smiled. “Looks cozy.”
“Well, let's go,” Taze said as he headed for the entrance.
The inside of the building was incredibly well kept. The floorboards were all hardwood, but the furnishings were well crafted with soft furry cushions to support clientele. A number of stools and chairs that varied in size had been spread about the room by the check-in counter to allow customers the chance to wait in the event of a larger crowd. The room itself was decorated with antlers, shields, and a number of older arms to give the place an almost rustic sort of feel. A bored-looking Gryphon with saggy green eyes dozed as he leaned on his elbow. A broad stairwell circled the interior of the building while leaving enough room for customers to fly up or glide down at their leisure.
“Uh, hello?” Taze called as they approached the counter.
Matthew followed behind, but chose to focus on the displays. The weapons spoke not of battle or of the country, but with the siren call of history, and he couldn’t help but want to know more.
The Gryphon blinked slowly, then yawned as he stretched and groaned. “Can I help you, inspector?” he asked in a bored tone of voice as his eyes fell on Moonshade. “You’re a little early for your contraband search this month, aren’t you?”
Moonshade cleared her throat. “I’m not an inspector. I’m a member of the Lunar Guard. And I'm only the guard here. If I were here for an inspection, I would have brought a team with me.”
“That so?” the Gryphon asked as he eyed the strange companions. “Do you have a reservation, then?”
“Yes,” Matthew said absently as he turned from a coat of arms he’d been examining. “We have a reservation for Artemis.”
“I see.” The Gryphon remained absolutely relaxed as he reached under the counter to remove an intricately carved stone key. “We made the arrangements just the way you asked. Rest assured, you won’t be disturbed by any unwelcome guests, at least so long as the pay is good.” He smiled tiredly. “To the rest of the world, it may as well be like you were never here.” He proffered it to the trio. “Who will be the keeper?”
Taze gave Matthew a bump on the shoulder.
Matthew opened his hand. “I’ll be the keeper of the key,” he answered.
The Gryphon nodded. “I’ll need a drop of your blood.” He extended a talon. “If you would give me your hand?”
“May I ask why you need my blood?” he asked with a frown.
“To bind the key to you, of course. The bearer will be the only one able to access your quarters unless someone opens it from the inside.”
“You know what? Nevermind. I'll do it. We don’t need you to turn into a spigot.” Taze stepped forward and offered his left hand.
The Gryphon nodded and pricked Taze on the palm until the blood began to well up. Then he pressed the head of the key firmly into place. Moments later, the lifeless stone transmuted into a red gem. “The key, and thus the lock, are now attuned to your blood,” he explained as he wiped off the talon with the aid of a handy cloth. “Will you require a bandage?”
“No, I should be fine. It’s just a small prick. My friend there has very thin blood. That’s why it had to be me,” he explained. “Thanks for offering, though.”
The Gryphon nodded. “It’s part of the service.” He chuckled and smiled wryly. “For a small fee, of course.” He groaned and flapped his wings, then landed on the floor next to them and stretched on all fours to work out the kinks. “This way,” he advised and guided them to a space beneath the stairwell where the stone walls were still exposed.
“So, going to guess the crown’s going to be receiving a nice bill when all this is done?” Taze chuckled as they followed.
“That depends on which side of the crown you’re talking about.” The host smirked and winked as he gestured toward the wall. “Present the key. The stone will remember the rest.”
Taze did as instructed. The gemstone flashed softly, and a keyhole appeared moments later. Taze didn’t need further prompting. As he turned the lock, a hidden seam revealed itself in the rock. The portal swung open silently to reveal a well-furnished apartment lined with three large nests that had been padded with clouds. Runes pulsed gently around the rims of the stone basins that held the structure of the nests together. A number of cots lined the edges of the walls, and stacks of blankets and bedding rolled and stacked along the edges of the floor to form an added makeshift sound barrier. Surprisingly enough, the ceiling actually was high enough to accommodate the humans’ height. Instead of lamps, phosphorescent crystals pulsed gently to provide enough light to navigate the space.
“I hope these accommodations will prove satisfactory. Rest assured, measures have been taken to ensure you receive the proper ventilation.” Their guide strode to a portion of the wall at the far end of the space that had been left bare. “And in the event that you do not wish to be seen coming and going from our establishment, the key’s contract entitles you to this separate entryway. You need only approach it for the key to function. You will also find that the key gives you access to a washroom and emergency aid station in the lower floor. The entrance lies in the space between your beds.”
“Thank you,” Taze said.
“Yes. Thank you,” Matthew echoed with a sigh. He leaned against the wall and closed his eyes as he slid to the floor and tried to force his body to reax. He couldn’t understand why he still felt so on edge. “Will you be staying with us still, Moonshade, or have you been reassigned?” he asked.
“I haven’t received any alternate orders yet.” She shrugged.
“You’ll find that a cloudwalking spell has been applied as a part of the runework on your beds. Considering you’re land-walkers, I can only assume you’ve never slept on a cloud before.” The Gryphon smiled. “There are few things that compare.”
“Should we need to, is there a way to contact you?” Taze asked.
“You can walk to the desk, I suppose.” The Gryphon chuckled. “No, I’m afraid any contact in the form of a magical communication with the inn’s staff would be too risky. The whole point of this suite is to not be noticed and not be found. That being said, I wouldn’t be surprised if your friends in the Night Guard have their own little device they’ve planted somewhere in the aid room.” He chuckled again. “That seems like something Nightshade would do.”
With Moonshade’s help, Matthew was able to rise and reach the nest. Once he’d settled onto the cloud, the deep and steady breaths of sleep soon followed.
“Will there be anything else you require? I’m afraid that food and drink aren’t normally provided in this establishment, though I believe there are some rations in the aid room as well in the event of emergencies.”
“That's fine. Thank you. You have a good day,” Taze said.
“And you, sir. I don’t believe I’ve met any of your kind before.” He smirked. “It will be interesting to learn more about you, should you choose to remain with us long.” He strode to the patch of wall where they had entered and pressed an exposed portion of rock that jutted out from the surface. The door swung open once again. The Gryphon didn’t turn back as the door swung shut, though he did stoop to pick up a bundle of bandages from the piles that were stored under the stairwell. Then he was lost from view as the door sealed and the “guests” were left to their own devices.
“Well, this is … cozy?” Taze shrugged to Moonshade as he pulled out a book from one of his pockets and sat on the bed. He had to admit it was comfortable. Still, he didn’t feel quite tired enough to go to sleep yet, and so dove into the pages before him.
“Probably better than most of the rooms. It’s a place to stay for now,” Moonshade noted as she moved to one of the nests. Being a Thestral, she had some experience with cloud beds before, so she simply got comfortable and watched her charges. And so the three lay there, one asleep and the other two simply passing the time while they waited for sleep to take them.
It had been days since the great expulsion took place. The drone had to run for several miles to return to the city after his siblings sought to kill him. Without the connection, he was … other. He was no longer of the hive, despite having been raised in it for his whole life. The fear he felt was genuine, which helped when he encountered other Ponies. Sympathy was often a form of love. It sustained him in his travels, just enough to keep going. He needed answers. He needed … closure was the word the other Ponies had used. But most of all, he needed to not be alone.
Luck was on his side as he entered the city. The barrier that had repelled the invasion was no longer present. And the power that had cast him and his siblings of the hive out was nonexistent. That did not mean he was safe, however. Guards regularly patrolled the streets with potions and solutions whose very smell burned his nostrils and caused his eyes to water. A noxious substance. Perhaps poison. Or worse.
It took time and dedicated research to find where the humans had been staying. He’d staked out the hospital until the creatures that had forever scarred him finally entered the building. It was only a matter of time before the human with the broken heart would seek his treatment. From there, it was a simple matter of covert surveillance. The problem lay in the escort. The drone was certain he could overpower her, but by the time he succeeded, he would likely be surrounded or killed either by the strange creatures or by other guards. No, this would require more tact. If he was to succeed in his plan, he would need to wait until the creatures were alone. And he would need to know how to gain access to them.
Reconnaissance revealed a magical artifact they carried with them to open the way into their dwelling. The fact they no longer went to the castle could have meant any number of possibilities. The presence of a guard, however, heavily implied they still had support from the crown. Pretending to be the guard had possibilities, but the creatures already had means in place to ferret out the truth. If he didn’t have the code, he would be found out.
Much though it went against his nature, subtlety would not serve him here. He needed those answers. He just hoped he could make it work.
The knocking on the side alleyway was soft and timid at first. But eventually, he settled on a continual assault. It had worked for the barrier. Perhaps it would also work in this situation. He beat the stone regularly with his hoof. The clack carried through the alleyway. Still he beat with the same rhythm and cadence. His fetlock got sore. He kept going. His foreleg grew tired. He kept beating. The limb burned. He kept beating. He felt like the leg was ready to fall off.
And still, he kept beating.
He didn’t know what else to do.
The entrance finally began to rumble open, revealing the tall form of Taze standing inside it. In his hand was Matthew’s crossbow, complete with a bolt loaded in the cradle. He looked at the pony with a raised eyebrow. “I don’t know who you are, but let's set the rules down now. You run, I shoot. You make any sudden movements, I shoot. You play games with me and I’m sure you can deduce what happens.” He stepped to the side and gestured with the crossbow for him to enter.
Matthew peeked out from behind his friend with a glower on his face as he held his short sword. “Taze, I know we’re friends and all, but do me a favor and ask next time you want to use my crossbow.”
The Changeling raised a brow in confusion at the conflicting sense of … humor, of all things, but left the comment be as he strode into the room. He was not dead yet. That was better than he could have expected. He strode slowly and calmly into the room and then laid down on all fours to stare at the humans.
Taze handed Matthew the crossbow. “Keep it on him, just in case.”
Matthew nodded, as he waited for Taze to make his next move. He casually checked the weapon’s safety with his thumb while keeping the weapon fixed on their most curious blend of prisoner and guest.
“So, let's start with a name,” Taze said, sitting across from the Changeling.
“I have none. I … should not be an I. That … thing.” He gestured toward the crossbow with his muzzle. “It … did something to me. You did something to me. I … wish to understand. I … need to understand. But … I do not know why. I … am not supposed to question.”
Taze looked at Matthew with a raised eyebrow. “You got shot with a crossbow? You seem in pretty good shape for that. If it had hit you in the head, you’d probably be dead.”
The Changeling shook his head. “Not the head. You struck me in another place.” He gestured to his shoulder. “May I show you?”
“Just move slowly,” Taze said.
“I must revert to show. I will not fly. I will not attack. You will kill me first if I do. Is this not so?” he buzzed.
“Wait, are you a Changeling?” Taze asked, standing up suddenly.
The drone blinked in surprise. “You … did not know?”
“How would we know? Isn’t disguising part of what your species does?” Taze asked. his hand groped for the knife at his belt and settled on the handle. “Why come here?”
“Answers. Understanding. It is as I said.” he motioned toward Matthew. “You shot me. Now, I am … other. I am different. I am….” He trailed off silently as he gazed at the floor. “I am alone.” He pointed to his head. “They are gone. My hive, my … family is the word, yes?”
Taze nodded, looking to Matthew for an idea of what to do. Matthew motioned for the Changeling with his crossbow. “Continue.”
“I am … attacked by my own kind. They do not know me. They do not hear me. To them, I am an outsider, a threat. I am to be killed. But … I do not wish to be killed. I … I should not question the will of the queen. I should submit to death.” He shuddered. “But the dark is not where I wish to go. The dark took me away from the hive. What more would it take? I … I do not wish to lose more.” He looked imploringly at them with glossy eyes. “Why am I this way? Why do you torture me? This is … cruelty is the word, is it not? I am alone.” He sobbed as he laid his forelegs over his head. “I am alone….”
“Well, that confirms a hivemind.” Taze sighed. “But you talk like you haven’t been speaking long. How old are you?”
Matthew leaned forward and stared pensively. Emotions flashed like bolts of lightning to the Changeling’s senses, but his face remained neutral. He nodded slowly at Taze’s comment about a hive mind.
“Age?” the drone asked. “I … I do not kn-know.” His voice trembled, even as the sobs shook him like hiccups. “We live, we … feed. We … grow. And then we serve.”
Taze facepalmed, then groaned. “Vulpix, you might as well put the crossbow away. I honestly don’t think he’d know how to hurt us if he wanted to,” he commented.
Matthew nodded and slowly put the crossbow down. “Yeah,” he said softly. “He sounds like a five-year-old. No idea of right or wrong.”
“Well, no-name, let's start with the basics. You no longer live or die by your queen’s demand. You decide who you are, and you decide what you do. Do you understand?”
“It … hurts?” He frowned. “No, hurts is not right. But … it is close. I … do not like having to choose. It is….”
“How was life in your hive? Did you eat well? Were you close to your kind?” Taze asked.
“We were always close. Even when infiltrators left the hive. We are always connected. We were always connected,” he corrected himself. “Our queen chose Equestria because it is bright. It is filled with love. We … need love.”
“I think my meaning was lost in translation. Were your hivemates kind to you? Did you love your family?”
“Changelings cannot produce love. It is why we must hunt for it.” He shook his head. “Kindness, hatred, fear, these things, these emotions were … flavors, textures, not things we made or had, save perhaps in combat just before—” He shuddered and curled up again. “—Before the blackness. Before they were no longer of the hive. A drone does not think. It does the will of its queen.”
“Even if that will is wrong?” Taze asked.
“The will of the queen is right. That is all that matters to a drone.”
“She got a lot of you killed for nothing in the invasion. Is that right?”
“Serving the queen is not nothing. We serve because … because….” He frowned. “We … do not think. I … I did not think….”
“And do changelings normally not think? A lot of those we killed seem capable of thinking,” Taze noted.
“Chains. Nodes. Control points. They focus the queen’s will, distill it, spread it. These … require more than a drone has. More than a drone … is capable.”
“So your queen chooses who gets to think and who doesn’t?”
The drone nodded. “Yes. May … may I become me now?”
Taze nodded.
Green fire flashed and consumed in an instant. When it was past, the typical drone stared at them with colored orbs.
“Where did it hit you?”
The Changeling turned aside to reveal the place where the chitin had been broken. A green crust had formed along the cracks near the flesh.
Matthew looked at the wound with critical eyes. “Will that heal? It won’t cause pulling?” He paused, “Do you have an actual skeleton, or is your chitin your skeleton?”
The Changeling cocked its head in utter confusion. “What is … a skeleton?”
Taze looked pointedly at Matthew. “Let's start with the basics. Then you can ask again later, okay?” Matthew gave Taze a sheepish look, and Taze returned his attention to the Changeling. “I want you to think about something. I’m going to say it to you, and I don’t want you to say anything until you’ve really thought about what it means, okay? Here it is. ‘I think, therefore I am.’”
“I … think, therefore I am? That is all?” the Changeling asked.
“Tell me what you think it means.”
The Changeling frowned. “What I think….” he murmured. “I think. … I … think….”
“You work on that for a while,” Taze said as he turned to Matthew. “And me and you have to ponder a great mystery of our own.”
“Making sure Moonshade doesn’t kill this Changeling, I assume?” He took a piece of paper and began to write. “Intel gathering, perhaps?”
“That's a start,” Taze admitted. “Now, let’s see….” And with that, the two set about to figure out how to keep their new ward safe.
The now-familiar sound of doors opening and closing left Shawn heaving a heavy sigh. The solitary clip-clop indicated only one person this time, as opposed to the general pairing that the medical staff seemed to follow. They had been poking and prodding him constantly over the last few days to try and understand just how he was recuperating so quickly. That, and of course the phenomenon of his spinal column remaining completely intact, despite the sheer trauma that should have snapped it like a twig.
He opened his eyes and craned his neck to behold a familiar pastelle Alicorn with pink fur and multicolored mane and tail. The concern on her face soon shifted to surprise as the human not only planted his arms firmly on the bed, but pulled himself to an upright sitting position and shifted his legs ever so slightly to work the muscles.
“To be honest, I’m kind of surprised to see you,” Shawn commented.
That knocked the Alicorn out of her stupor. She frowned in response. “Why?”
“Given the whole incident, I figured your schedule would have been quite full,” he replied, rubbing the back of his head.
“Shawn, I love Shining, and I do still want to have our wedding, but you saved my life. I’m only sorry I couldn’t come sooner.”
“It’s no problem,” he replied with a small smile. “The doctors have been trying to keep visitors limited anyway, so….”
Cadance smiled knowingly. “Would that be the doctors or Aunt Luna?”
“Both, as it turns out.” Shawn gave a brief chuckle. “There’s always a doctor and guard nearby. More so on the guards.”
“I’d say you’ve more than earned it.” Then she frowned. “For better or for worse, you’re going to be in the limelight now, and probably for some time to come.”
“Cadance, we were used as bait. That spotlight’s been shining on us for some time now,” he replied, giving a short wave of his hand.
Cadance winced. “Yes, Aunt Luna told me about that. Though hopefully, this light will be more of the good kind, or at least the inconvenient one instead.” She approached the bed and sat next to it. “How are you feeling? Is the wound closing up all right?”
“Yeah. By some miracle, most of the cuts and stabs missed anything vital. Which I still don’t see how. I’m just stuck here until I’m stable enough to walk around unassisted.”
“You’re already walking? After just a few days?”
“Barely.” Shawn sighed. “The muscles in my lower back are still healing, and it gives me trouble standing for long. Whatever magic they’re using to help me has been surprisingly quick. An injury like this back home, well … even if I survived, I’d probably have lost use of my arms and legs.”
Cadance’s voice softened as she looked over him. “How is it that you can be so brave when you’re so fragile?”
“Because I have next to nothing. All I have are my friends,” Shawn replied as he looked her squarely in the eyes. “So long as I can move, I’d try my hardest to save those close to me, because right now, … they’re all I have.”
Cadance was silent for a time, then laid a gentle wing on Shawn’s hand. “I … know what that’s like. I lost my home once, … a very long time ago. My family, everyone I knew. It was … hard rebuilding after that. It will probably be even harder for you.” She sighed. “I know I’m not from your world. But … if you’re willing, I’d like to count myself among those friends. One day, if not today.”
“I’d be happy to call you a friend.” Shawn gave a small smile. “You haven’t wronged me or my friends, and you came by despite everything going on.”
Cadance nodded and smiled as tears stood in her eyes. “Then, as a friend, would you and your friends be willing to attend the wedding as my guests of honor?”
After a few seconds, Shawn nodded. “When I see them, I’ll try to convince them. Though things are … strained, with Celestia. We’ll go for you.”
Cadance nodded. “If they don’t want to come, please don’t push them. I won’t be offended. And the same goes with you.” She took a deep breath. “That being said, Shawn, there is another reason that I came to see you. And … it has to do with that loss. When I saw you in the cave that day, all covered in blood, I … something broke open in my mind. It’s been … difficult, trying to piece those things that came through together. Part of those memories I mentioned, about losing family, … were among them. I … I’m afraid to learn more about that part of my life. But at the same time, … I need to know more. I don’t know why, but when I’m near you, I feel like I can almost touch that part of me, if that makes sense. I don’t know if it’s the memory of when we found you or something else, but … if you’re all right with it, would you be willing to … help me remember?”
Shawn blinked a few times. “I’m … unsure of how I can help, but, if there’s anything you have in mind, I’d be willing to try.”
Cadance smiled gently. “Thank you. Right now, though, it’s enough just to visit with you. We can look into the memories later.”
Extended Holiday Chapter 008: To Change a Changeling
Matthew sat on the cloud bed holding the Changeling in his lap as he stared at Princess Luna. Moonshade was off to the side. Taze leaned against one of the walls and watched, correcting his friend occasionally while Matthew narrated the story that led to their peculiar circumstances.
“And that’s the full story, Princess,” Matthew finished.
Luna looked at them with a contemplative stare. Her eyes flicked occasionally to the Changeling as she took in the information. “You realize that's a lot to believe?”
“I do, but our new friend is speaking like an individual, in terms that, until now, we have only seen reserved by their Queen.” He looked down at the Changeling in his lap. “You wish to add anything?”
“Would it make any difference?” the Changeling asked. “The Princess believes what she will. And she is right not to trust. I am an unknown. And a Changeling’s first need is always feeding. That will never change for me and mine. I do not wish to die, and I will fight to live if I must. Is this not what it means to exist?”
“Tell me, drone, did your queen ever tell you about the other hives of the world?” Luna asked.
The drone shook his head. “If they exist, my queen,” he winced and shook his head. “My … former queen would not have shared that information with me. We protect our hive and we seek to survive. That is our purpose, or at least, that was my purpose. The queen was hungry for more than love. She wished for … something else. But I do not know what. I only know that it … altered my usual thirst. There was the need for love, but there was also the desire for … something else. To … make others like me? Like … like the hive? I … do not know the right words.”
“She desired power,” Luna said. “It is a thirst that has brought the downfall of many Ponies, nevermind many of your queens of the past. It would seem somewhere in your hive’s past, Chrysalis or one of her predecessors decided to forego culture and family in the grab for power, and thus warped your hive beyond recognition.”
“The hive exists beyond your lands. It is dry and dead there, with little water.”
Luna gave a wry smile as her horn lit up and projected on a nearby wall, showing off a dry cracked desert landscape with the sun boiling high in the air above. Large land worms and giant snakes crawled across the land. In the air above, creatures of different varieties flew through the sky. Some were nightmarish in their appearance. They came to a circle drawn in the ground where Luna stood across from a large Changeling, obviously a queen. This one was garbed in large plates of chitin that stood out over her body. Unlike Chrysalis, this queen was a steely gray, and her plates were full, lacking any signs of holes. A blood-red mane tied in a ponytail hung out from beneath an armored headdress where a horn shaped like an antler poked through. Luna had a mace, and the Changeling queen wielded a large five-sided wooden club with metal studs. The two clashed and clashed as the room’s occupants watched.
“Far, far to the east, in the badlands west of Neighpon, the Kabuto Clan Hive live a harsh and demanding life. The fight for survival was so ingrained into their way of life that it was a sport to them. Queen Aleras was one of the most challenging sparring partners I have ever known in my life. And yet, when food was required….” The scene changed to show the changeling surrounded by similarly armored smaller drones standing across from Kitsune. The two groups traded happily. A wagon stuffed with furs and hides sat next to bags filled with large pinkish crystals. “They found ways to trade peacefully with those nearby.”
Matthew watched the scene with rapt attention as the events unfolded.
“Peace,” the Changeling said as he watched the projection. “That is not a word I know. Is it an emotion?”
“Peace is to exist with another with no need for domination or violence,” Luna explained. “Your queen could have come to our country and asked for help feeding your hive.”
“What is … help?”
“When you do things to the benefit of ones who are not you,” Luna explained with a smirk.
The Changeling cocked his head. “Then why offer this … help?”
“Because it is right,” Luna told him. “Have you ever not been hungry?”
“We feed to sustain, but….” The Changeling’s stomach rumbled.
Luna concentrated and her magical aura turned pink for a moment as the magic gathered in front of her, pulling together and concensing until it formed a small pinkish crystal about the size of a baseball. She gently levitated it toward the Changeling. “Go on. Eat. I give this love to you willingly.”
The Changeling’s eyes widened. “You … know how to craft the vessels?” Drool leaked from the drone’s mouth as the crystal pulsed. His wings buzzed, and he hissed before the crystal broke down into that same vaporous aura and drained right down his throat.
“Now, tell me, how do you feel?”
The drone’s eyes flashed, and for a moment, they seemed to lose that bug-like quality to become something smoother and well defined. He leaned back and groaned in contentment, then burped as a tiny wisp of the substance escaped. “This … this is….” He closed his eyes to savor the sensation. “This is full?”
Luna nodded. “In magic and in life, there is a rule that rings true. That which is forcibly taken will cost you more than that which is given willingly.” Luna smiled at him. “When your queen makes you all take love from Ponies, more energy is spent in the acquisition than you receive in the end. What I just gave you was love generated by fond memories of past friendships and bonds. These are old, and the emotion generated is far less than your species would need to steal, but you have received much more out of it.”
“And this help generates more love that is given?”
“Had your queen come to us in peace, we’d have gladly given all we could spare and more to help your people. But the invasion she selfishly pushed you toward has ruined any good faith that could have been between our peoples. Do you understand now? Your queen’s selfishness will cause many nymphs to go hungry and starve for what would have affected your way of life none at all, save for your queen. That hunger may have lessened a little, but it would still have remained. And ultimately, it would have grown worse in time.”
The Changeling was quiet for a time as he thought over Luna’s words. His own words came slowly in response. “Then … this hunger. It would lead to weakness. And … weakness would lead to exhaustion. And then….” He shuddered. “The blackness?”
“Yes. We call it death. And does the blackness benefit the hive?” Luna asked him.
“When we fight to protect it. When danger rises, the blackness becomes … necessary. We … die … so the rest may live.”
“But when the workers, the drones, the nymphs die? Are not the nymphs the future of the hive?”
“We would give all to the nymphs. They are the future, as you say. If the queen should perish, a new queen would rise from them.”
“So if the queen has put the hive into a point where it will starve, where hunger will cause them to die, how does this benefit the hive? If the queen’s every action is for the good of the hive, how does this help?”
The drone frowned. “The queen … does not help. She orders. She commands. But … she has not given, except to the eggs. She gives them life. Preserving the hive is a drone’s one objective, and the queen is the hive.” He stopped for a moment, as if he had just been slapped. “But … she is not … all of the hive. Just like … like I am not the hive. The hive is the whole….”
“And the current queen is hurting the hive,” Luna said. “She is hurting the whole. What would happen to a drone who hurts the hive?”
“Death.”
“So what does Chrysalis deserve?”
At that question, the confusion on the Changeling’s face shifted to sickness. “A hive … turning on its queen?” He shuddered. “It is a terrible thing. Forbidden, save for….” He shuddered. “The hive remembers times when it was done. The memories are … unpleasant to remember, but it is a part of us, the workers and the drones. I … do not wish to think of them.”
“Do you acknowledge what your queen did was wrong?” Luna asked him.
The Changeling winced and touched his shoulder. “I … know what pain is. It is … unpleasant. We … caused much pain to you Ponies. Some, like my pain. Some … the bad taste, bitter. You call it fear. It is … an acquired taste. Few in any hive wish to taste it.” He shuddered. “Hate is worse. Hate eats love. I have felt both. But fear, fear is strongest. Love has dwindled. And that hurts the hive, which is wrong. And … since I do not like pain, I can only believe you also do not like pain. Pain is bad, which means pain is also wrong. Is this not so?”
Matthew muttered as he listened to the conversation. “... More disposed to suffer, while evils are sufferable, than to right themselves by abolishing the forms to which they are accustomed. But when a long train of abuses and usurpations, pursuing invariably the same object evinces a design to reduce them under absolute despotism, it is their right, it is their duty, to throw off such government and to provide new Guards for their future security.”
Luna stared pensively at the creature that was and yet was not her enemy. “Changeling, let us make a promise, you and I. I will do my best to protect your life within my kingdom. I shall supply you with food and seek to find a place for you to live in peace. In return, you will promise to not take love forcibly from any of my Ponies. Does this sound satisfactory?”
“That … is all you ask?”
“You know causing pain to others is wrong now. I do not think I need to ask more than that from you,” Luna returned.
The Changeling hesitated for a moment and flinched, then braced himself and spoke. “I … decide to accept this promise. This is a form of … help given between the two of us, yes?”
Luna nodded as she approached the drone carefully. “For now, I apply this mark so that all Thestrals will know I protect you. Should you need aid, they will be bound by honor to provide you it. As a princess of Equestria, I give you asylum and aid, and I take you under my wings to shield you from those who would do you harm.” As she spoke, Luna pressed a hoof to his forehead and a small silver star appeared on the chitin.
“I … cannot see this mark.” The Changeling frowned. “May I?”
Luna conjured a mirror and held it before him.
“It is … silver. I … have never seen this color on a Changeling before.” His lips twitched into a subtle smile. “I think I like it.”
“Silver is more fitting of my color palette,” Luna noted. “I find the gold and white to be a bit garish, myself.”
“I … do not know what to say.”
Matthew touched the Changeling's back lightly and smiled. “Thank you is always a safe bet.”
Shawn sighed to himself as he stood by the window in his room. He was waiting on everything to be finalized for his departure. That, and he did somewhat need his shirt, vest, and coat. Rarity had offered to repair them, so it was only a matter of a time before she showed up.
He was finally able to stand unassisted with ease, even going so far as to be able to move from a crouch to fully upright with no issues. The doctors had fits about him constantly wanting to stand and move around while still in their care, but he just couldn’t help himself at times.
Apart from that, he was fine. The scars that had come from the event were relatively shallow. The only one of major importance was the one in his lower back.
The doors opened once again, and Rarity and Twilight both entered together. The one mare levitated a large rectangular white box in her magic while the other smiled at the sight of her friend moving on his own. The hug that followed from the purple mare was somewhat unexpected, but not unwelcome.
“I’m glad you’re okay,” Twilight said by way of greeting.
“If only the doctors felt the same.” Shawn gave a small grin. “They’re trying to get me to stay another week.”
“Well, I mean, the sheer speed of your recovery and the regeneration would have significant application to the scientific community as a manner of study,” she admitted, “but I’m guessing you probably wouldn’t like being poked and prodded to find out exactly how that works.”
Shawn blinked a few times. “I mean, I just figured it was that my body took to their magic well, since my world doesn’t really have magic.” He shrugged.
“And speaking of magic, darlings, it took a little work, and a great deal of research to find just the right color of fabric. Not to say the amount of stains that needed tending to, but I now present to you what I dare say will be one of my best repair pieces yet.” Rarity grinned as she opened the box and levitated a perfectly refurbished blue coat complete with flashy golden trim and a freshly polished belt and buckle. “Tada!” she sang. “And, of course, I made sure to include a matching shirt. Fashion is nothing without the proper accents, you know.” True to her word, a flawless white shirt complete with cravat and gray vest soon followed. “And you’ll be happy to know there is absolutely no charge. I simply must insist on that point. Why, if not for you, we might not even be here right now.”
“Thank you.” Shawn let a smile pass. “I wish I could have offered something still, nevertheless.”
“Then how about we call your recovery payment enough? The smile Twilight gave when she found out was enough to light up the room. Quite literally, if you’d believe it.”
Twilight blushed, then chuckled sheepishly. “I … get a little carried away sometimes.”
Shawn gave a brief chuckle as he began to put on the missing pieces of his outfit. “I appear to have left a mark on you, it seems. Hopefully for the better.”
“No hopefully about it. You did, and definitely for the better.” Twilight smiled. “And who knows? Maybe the magic of friendship will leave its mark on you, too. That’s one of the biggest sources of power in our kingdom, after all.”
“We’ll see. Still have to take it one step at a time,” Shawn replied as he fastened the buckle of his coat. After looking himself over, he frowned as he felt something was missing, though he couldn’t place it. It wasn’t until he went to rest his hand on the pommel of his sword that he realized he didn’t have it. “Oh. Right. Luna took it,” he muttered.
“And nobody’s touched it since,” Twilight promised. “Princess Luna is very passionate about peoples’ privacy.”
“I figured, yeah,” Shawn rubbed the back of his head. “It’s just … strange. I honestly don’t feel right without it.”
“He does look the part of a noble prince, doesn’t he?” Rarity asked as she eyed the effects of her work.
“Rarity,” Twilight said in a warning tone.
“What? You don’t honestly think I would say that insincerely, do you, Twilight?”
“Let’s just say I don’t want you to get in trouble like what happened at the gala.”
Rarity shuddered. “Don’t even mention that night. I’ve drawn a veil over those … unfortunate events.”
“Are you saying you didn’t like the cake?” Twilight teased.
“Twilight,” Rarity growled. “If you don’t stop that this minute, why, so help me, I’ll…. I’ll!—”
Twilight laughed. “All right, Rarity. All right. But you see my point.”
Rarity sighed. “Yes, darling, I know what you mean.” She shook her head sadly. “And it was such a good dress, too.”
There was a slow clapping in the room as Taze, Matthew, and Moonshade stood in the doorway. Taze finished his golf clap as he eyed Rarity coolly. “What do you know? She can learn.”
“Hello, Taze,” Twilight greeted warmly. “Are you and the others here to pick Shawn up?”
Taze nodded. “We need to show him where we’re staying, after all.”
Shawn hummed questioningly as he raised a brow.
“Not going to say where right now. It’s kind of a secret.”
“Fair enough, I suppose.” Shawn shrugged. “Did they tell you if everything’s done paperwork-wise on their end? Though we can just walk out the door, I get the feeling that’s not exactly the best idea.”
“Depends on how you look at it. The doctors want you in for observation, but not because you need the care, more for their own curiosity.” Taze shrugged. “Anyway, the paperwork seems done as far as i can tell.”
“Be glad you get to go home today. It took me four days of hospital bureaucracy before I finally got to go home, myself, the last time I was checked in,” Matthew teased.
“Fair enough. All right, then. If we’re cleared, I’d like to finally get out of here,” Shawn replied.
“I can imagine you were starting to feel kinda crazy.” Taze chuckled.
“Combined with my insomnia, it’s been a lot of quiet nights,” he agreed.
“If I knew that, I’d have left some books for you.”
“It’s all good.” Shawn gave a dismissive wave.
“Well, if there’s nothing more, I suppose I should be going now,” Rarity said. “Ta-ta, darlings. And if you ever need some new clothes, don’t hesitate to ask.” And with that said, the mare made her way out of the room.
Twilight sighed. “I suppose I should get going, too. If this place you’re staying is supposed to remain a secret, I’m not about to risk spoiling it. It was good to see you all again. Hopefully, once things settle down, we’ll have the chance to really sit down and get to know one another better.”
“I’m sure we’ll find the time.” Shawn gave a small smile. “Until then, I’ll see you when I see you, yeah?”
“See you later, Twilight. I wouldn’t mind sitting down and talking either.” Matthew smiled kindly at the mare.
“Yeah. See you later,” Taze added.
Twilight offered a grim nod of respect to Moonshade. “And thank you for all that you’ve done, Moonshade. That invitation is open to you, too, if you want to come.”
“I appreciate that, Twilight, but I am just doing as I was ordered.”
“So?” She smiled enigmatically, then waved and passed through the doors, leaving the four alone to talk.
“All right, then. I guess you’ll have to lead the way,” Shawn remarked.
“We’re heading to the lower quarter,” Taze said quietly as they made their way out of the hospital.
The group strolled leisurely down the streets of canterlot. It took them a little over an hour before they found themselves standing in front of the inn. “So, before we go in, … we should warn you,” Taze started.
Shawn hummed questioningly.
“We have another roommate,” Taze said.
“And you have to warn me for what reason?”
“So you don’t kill them. Him? Her? They don’t know yet themselves.”
“Just tell me straightforward,” Shawn commented flatly.
“We can’t in the open,” Taze said.
Shawn looked at him for a moment before sighing. “Fine. I’ll try to refrain from the action towards whoever it is you’re talking about.”
“Good luck,” Moonshade said under her breath as they entered the building. Taze gave a casual nod to the innkeeper as they passed.
Matthew took position by the hidden door to be the first in, just in case Shawn couldn’t hold back.
Carefully, Taze raised the key to the spot and waited as the keyhole revealed itself, then opened the door to reveal the Changeling drone sitting on one of the beds.
“Welcome back—” Whatever other words the drone was going to say died in its throat as it gaped at the human in the blue coat, a human that it knew for a fact was supposed to be dead.
Shawn tensed suddenly and reached for his hip, where his sword would have been, only to grip air. He grit his teeth as the warning his friends gave him sprung to mind and he attempted to reign in his rage. He took several deep breaths in an attempt to calm himself. Adrenaline had already started moving through him. “You’d best have a damn good reason for this.”
“Shawn, are we idiots?” Taze asked bluntly.
Matthew sat next to the Changeling and laid a comforting hand on its back as it shook, causing its chitin to rustle. “We do,” he promised. “Let me lay a few things out. First, he came to us of his own free will. Changelings are a hive mind, like the Borg or in Aliens. This one is unique because he’s not connected to the hive anymore, but he’s still sane. That’s not normal. He’s been very helpful giving information, and frankly….” He moved so Shawn could see the healing wound. “We think I might have caused it.”
“It wasn’t your fault per say,” Taze said with a sigh as the room door closed behind them. “It was mine.”
“Just,” Shawn took a breath before sighing. “Just ... start from the beginning.”
Shawn sighed as he rubbed at his forehead. “Figures. So, what now? We’ve got a Changeling who’d be killed on sight by most of the solar guard, and we’re being pulled into the spotlight once more.”
“Well, you did save the lives of two royals, not to mention make sure that the whole of Canterlot could be purged by that spell. I’d be shocked if there were an actual way to keep us out of it at this point,” Matthew said.
“We should at least know what action we’ll take, plan some kind of response if we get found out,” Taze noted.
“Since you already brought this up with Luna, we at least have that as a start of a cover,” Shawn replied as he frowned. “We also need to keep up appearances, given this whole situation we’ve been put in. Speaking of, Cadance still wants us to come to the wedding. She’d understand if the decision was no from you guys, but I’ve already determined that I’ll be going.”
“Do you know whether Celestia pushed her into it?” Matthew asked.
Shawn shook his head. “It’s got nothing to do with Celestia.”
“It’s a lot to ask,” Taze growled.
“Look, we’re going to have to deal with Celestia, no matter what. She’s one of the rulers of this whole kingdom we’re stuck in. Trust me, I’d rather not deal with her at all, but we’re kinda stuck having to, even if we aren’t happy about it,” Shawn replied bluntly. “I’ll be going to the wedding for Cadance’s sake. Whether you guys do or not is up to you.”
“... Fine,” Taze huffed.
“And you know I won’t leave the two of you alone after everything we’ve been through,” Matthew said. “Though we’d need someone here to babysit … what do we call our … guest anyway?” Matthew peered at the Changeling, who had made a makeshift bed for itself in the corner of their room and was watching the conversation intently.”
Shawn looked to the Changeling once more and frowned. “Probably best to just keep it simple. How about Mutatio?”
“Mutatio?” Taze asked.
“Latin for change. Makes it simple.” Shawn shrugged.
“Huh.” Taze looked at the Changeling. “That work for you?”
“A name. That is … how you identify these … individuals, yes? Those who are hives unto themselves?” The Changeling tapped his chin. “I do not dislike this name. If it will help you identify me, then I will accept it.”
“Mutatio it is, then,” Taze said.
“I like the sound and what it means. Easy to remember, too.” Matthew smiled.
“I … must stay here for this wedding, yes?” Mutatio asked.
“Definitely,” Shawn replied.
“So long as I have enough food, I will be able to remain. If I am hungry and the love from the wedding calls, however, … it … may push me to act, even though I do not wish to. Beyond my control. Instinct, I think you call it?”
Taze nodded.
“If Luna figured out a solution for that, then it should be fine in the end.” Shawn sighed. “Next is just figuring out the dates for everything.”
“I mean, isn’t that up to them?” Taze asked.
“That’s what I mean. It’s a matter of waiting for them to give us information.”
“Well, that gives us more time to wait and strengthen our bonds.”
“Do you have any idea on when things will happen, Moonshade?” Shawn questioned.
“I’d say relatively soon, if only to calm the people,” Moonshade said. “Just not sure when.”
“Then we’ll just have to play it by ear.” Shawn frowned.
Matthew snorted, “Well, we’ll need some help, then. We have smaller ears than the general population, after all.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t worry. If it’s important enough, they’ll just end up breaking into song.” Taze chuckled.
“And I might join in the chorus.”
Mutatio looked at the humans. “You have heartsongs?”
“No.” Taze laughed. “He’s just weird.”
Moonshade knocked on the wall with the agreed upon sequence and waited. Three minutes later, the wall opened to reveal Taze. Once the Thestral’s identity was verified, he moved aside and allowed her entry, closing the door behind her.
“No real news as of yet, though I've been asked to pass along a note of invitation,” she told them once she was sure the humans were all present.
“I assume if it made it this far, it was either from someone important or someone quite reasonable,” Shawn commented as he lowered the book he was reading.
“I concur.” Matthew nodded as he followed Shawn’s example and lowered his own novel that he’d retrieved from his attaché case.
“While not entirely important as far as standing goes, the sender is someone of note, especially to you three after what happened,” Moonshade explained. “The family is unlanded and has been ranked as Nobles of the Robe for some time.”
“Got a name we can recognize?” Shawn asked. “Or is it someone new?”
“Oh, you’ll recognize it. But it’s also someone you probably haven’t met yet,” Moonshade said. “Lady Twilight Velvet of House Twilight.”
Shawn blinked a few times. “Yeah, no, haven’t met her yet, but I do know who it is.”
“Well, that's a twist,” Taze noted.
“Should I read it?” Moonshade asked
“Let’s hear it.” Shawn nodded.
Moonshade cleared her throat. “Greetings, Lord Shawn, Hunter Taze, and Attaché Matthew. I hope this letter finds you well. I am writing to extend my appreciation for your actions in regards to my children and our country, and would like to speak with you in person. Thus, I am extending this invitation to tea Thursday afternoon at two. I sincerely hope you will accept. Best regards, LadyTwilight Velvet of House Twilight.”
After a moment, Shawn shrugged. “I’ve got no problems with that.”
Taze shrugged noncommittally. “Doesn’t seem like a problem. That's tomorrow, right?”
“We have the time,” Matthew agreed. “But where is the location of the meeting? Will it be at their house or a tea shop?”
“At their house,” Moonshade clarified. “Otherwise, she’d have given a location.”
Matthew nodded. “That makes sense.”
“I guess send her a response?” Taze said.
“Anything in particular?” Moonshade asked.
“I’d probably say the standard. The three of us accept the offer and will arrive at the scheduled time,” Shawn replied.
“Okay.” Moonshade nodded. “I’ll deliver that, then.” She turned back to the door, which Taze got up to open for her. “This should be really interesting,” she said under her breath before leaving.
“So Twilight's mom wants to meet with us,” Taze said. “This should be interesting.”
Matthew frowned. “You think we have enough time to get a book on tea etiquette?”
“It’s not that difficult, Vulpix. You sit up straight, keep your shoulders back, use your manners, and extend your pinky when you drink. They’re not going to expect us to follow their customs.”
“That’s European. This is Equestria. There could be differences, and I will not cause a diplomatic incident because I’m ignorant if I can help it. At the very least, an effort to learn what to do beforehand will show I’m trying to learn their culture as a visitor and in my role as an attaché. That is still my cover, isn’t it?”
“Based off the letter, I figured it was going to be less of a major event and more of a meeting with three individuals who assisted her daughter,” Shawn commented. “Given the fact that this isn’t being scheduled to a major degree, and was more of a casual invite. Well, as casual an invite as it can be.”
“Not worth freaking out over anyway,” Taze said. “Just relax and try to enjoy yourself.”
Matthew grumbled, but didn’t say anything more, instead choosing to return to his book.
“Besides, in case you didn’t notice, we’re not exactly going to be arriving in style.” Taze chuckled “Shawn’s the only one dressed for a meeting with someone important.”
“Yeah, my attempts at getting normal clothes were met with, ‘ah, you must mean these types of attire.’” Shawn gestured to his dress shirt and vest.
Matthew snorted behind his book. “Then ask Moonshade to help get you undercover clothing. Even the nobility in Europe knows about going undercover to understand what’s going on outside their castle.”
“I’m just saying, unless you're sitting on a pile of gold and know some master tailor, we’re kind of stuck as we are,” Taze noted.
“At least most of the stuff they’ve given us has been comfortable.” Shawn shrugged as he returned to his book.
The Twilight home was most definitely not an estate. There were no sprawling gardens, no grand statues, no fences or barriers to keep interlopers away. However, the building that Twilight Velvet called home was far from unrespectable. It was located on a less busy street with a few neighboring houses. Their house was crafted from two different types of stone, a light pale blue that formed the majority of the house, and a darker blue that formed the corners for an accent to the house’s design. A checkered diamond pattern in a dark navy and lighter blue adorned the foundation beneath the windows on the ground floor.
“Well,” Shawn started as he glanced at the others, “shall we make ourselves known?” He gave a brief grin as moved to knock on the front door.
“I would concur,” Matthew said.
“Go ahead. I’m right behind you,” Taze added.
Much to the humans’ surprise, rather than a servant, a simple gray mare with a purple and white mane stood before them. She beamed up at them with the kind of smile only a proud mother can manage. “Thank you so much for accepting my invitation! Please, please, come in.” She drew back and gestured inside, where the space opened directly into what appeared to be a parlor or living room of some kind. A side table sat beneath one of the windows, and a glass front bookcase stood against the wall by a sizable couch. Two cushioned chairs complete with arms and high backs flanked the couch at an equal distance to surround a coffee table made from a large wooden wheel. A simple lamp resting on the spoke completed the appearance of the decor while a series of wooden beams along the sides of the walls acted as support to the rest of the house. An old grandfather clock ticked away the time absently on one of the other walls while a gentle hum from the mare’s horn triggered the brief glow of runes carved into the glass panes of the windows. While no visible changes appeared to the quality of light, it was evident some function or other had been activated.
“Thank you for inviting us,” Shawn replied with a smile as he looked over the room. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”
Matthew nodded his agreement as he followed Shawn’s example.
“Yes, thank you,” Taze added with a nod.
“Feel free to make yourselves at home. Tea is in the kettle brewing. It should be finished soon.”
“May I ask what kind?” Taze asked. “No, wait, hold on, I want to see if I can tell by the scent.”
Twilight Velvet laughed. “Well, I didn’t expect to have someone who enjoys guessing games among your party, but I suppose an element of risk and surprise fits for a monster hunter.”
“A well made cup of tea is something worth a little mystery.” Taze chuckled. “Coffee is good for pick-me-ups or with a rich dessert, but tea is something for every occasion.”
“You and the princess have something in common, then.” She smiled. “I always enjoy a cup before bed. The warmth settles in and helps you feel nice and snug before you go to sleep.” She gestured toward the couch and the chairs. “Please, feel free to take a seat. I’ll be back with the tea in a moment.”
“Well, I definitely like her!” Taze said with a grin as he sat in one of the chairs.
“She is quite nice,” Shawn agreed as he took a seat.
Matthew nodded his agreement. “So far, I think it’s looking good.”
About a minute or so later, Twilight Velvet returned bearing a tea tray with all the fixings in her magical grip. She shifted the lamp to the side table by the window and lowered the tray in front of her guests. “We also have sugar, cream, honey, and no tea would be complete without some treats to go with it.” Flat square cookies that smelled faintly of cinnamon had been laid out on a plate in the shape of a wreath. “And, of course, you said you wanted to guess what blend I use.” She smiled and poured from the kettle through a filter to catch the fragments of herb before levitating the cup to Taze’s hands. “Apologies for the size. I don’t normally entertain larger guests.
Taze took the cup carefully, keeping one finger in the arm and the other beneath it to support the saucer that held it in place. He took a few sniffs from over the brim of the cup. “Hmm…, red rooibos tea, but with a touch of cinnamon added to the blend?” he asked.
“A friend of mine from the Zebrican delegation brings some with him whenever he visits. I’m surprised that our homes both have the same name for the plant, though. Or do your pendants merely translate the name for me?”
“... Yes?” Taze said, unsure.
“Our world doesn’t really have magic, so the concept behind these amulets are taking some time to stick,” Shawn explained. “We honestly couldn’t give you a definite answer.”
“How interesting. I wonder what other things you’ll encounter here that our two countries share,” she mused as she poured for the rest. “Would you prefer to serve yourselves or do you mind if I add and then you mix?”
“I should probably add my own,” Taze admitted. “Due to health related reasons, I’ve developed a sweet tooth, and most people find the amount of sugar I tend to add disturbing.”
Twilight Velvet laughed. “It’ll be our little secret, then. Just don’t tell Twilight’s friend Octavia. To that particular mare, the art of tea is sacred. Or so my daughter tells me in her letters.”
“Well, in that case, I wouldn’t mind you making my cup. I have no idea how to make tea,” Matthew said.
“And you, Shawn?”
“I’d request you make it, as I’m not too familiar with the blend,” Shawn replied.
“Then so be it.” It didn’t take long for the four to finish their preparations and enjoy the drinks. When a suitable time had passed, Twilight Velvet lowered her cup back to the tray and sighed. “While I am grateful for the chance to get to know you three, there is another reason that I asked you here,” she admitted. “Our house is one that we earned through our own labors. My husband and I scrimped and saved like any other normal Pony would. However, we are still technically nobles. And whether you’re willing to accept it or not, my husband and I owe you three a great debt for fighting to not only protect my daughter, but also my two sons. I don’t know if it means much, given what little influence we hold, but if you ask us for help, my husband and I will do everything in our power to assist you.”
“Please, think nothing of it.” Shawn gave a gentle smile. “We simply did what anyone should do and assisted where we could. I’m sure the only thing we regret about that day was not being better prepared.”
“It was what was right,” Taze added.
“Still, if you need anything, I hope you call on us. A place to stay, maybe a home-cooked meal.” She smiled. “From what Twilight tells me, the three of you also eat meat. If the three of you happen to have some troubles getting ahold of that particular food source, I know of a few places that serve them.”
“That may be a bit of information we could use, though we aren’t likely to be able to go for it anytime soon,” Shawn commented after some thought.
“Why? Don’t you need to eat it in order to stay healthy?”
“Yeah, but our funding isn’t quite stable at the moment. We’re looking through some methods, but considering our situation with one of the princesses, we’ve been attempting to keep our distance for the time being,” Shawn said.
“Situation?”
Matthew looked into his teacup. “Some of us have taken umbrage with the fact that we were visible decoys in a play we knew nothing about really. Nor were we consulted on any ideas of how we might help, seeing as if the kingdom were to fall, we would also be facing more troubles.”
“I assume you mean Princess Celestia.” Twilight Velvet sighed and lowered her cup. “I heard about what happened in that room. Needless to say, as a mother, it was not an easy thing to be told.”
“It was a witch hunt,” Taze said with a grimace. “Honestly, it disgusted me to see such blatant disregard for someone they knew for so long.”
“I wouldn’t call it that, but perhaps the term has a different meaning where you are from. Our witches here are peaceful in their practices. They haven’t done anything to justify being hunted.”
“In our history, people tended to be very superstitious, to the point where when things started going wrong, they’d look for someone to blame. Logic and reason, no matter how blatant, was thrown out the window in a manic need to point the finger.” Taze shrugged. “Basically, they ganged up on the people they wished to blame for the wrongs. Likewise, your daughter faced a similar trial, or at least the person posing as your daughter, without so much as a thought to anything resembling reason.”
“Actually,” Matthew began as he put his teacup down, “the majority of the time, a witch hunt in our culture was more of a means to try and exert power or revenge. The first three supposed witches charged in Salem were a homeless girl no one liked, a disgraced daughter, and a widow in an inheritance struggle with her stepchildren.” He fidgeted nervously as his gaze darted between his friends and the mare, and he blushed. “Sorry, as a history buff, I … tend to babble a little.”
“So, when you say a witch hunt, you’re referring to unjust persecution, essentially a false judgment caused by wishing to believe something else to be true, rather than doubt it, despite evidence that might be brought to bear.”
“Yes,” Matthew answered slowly. “Those can be reasons.”
“If anypony were to try that here, it would weaken the protections over the kingdom and usher the windigos’ return.” She shuddered. “I suppose you probably haven’t heard of that particular creature though, nor how our people ultimately banished them.”
Matthew’s expression paled. “Can you describe a Windigo to me? Because we have creatures that bear such a name in our mythology, and they are not pleasant.”
“The windigo is a spirit of ice and snow. It feeds on aggression, fear, sadness, desperation. The more divided a people or group becomes, the stronger the windigo’s influence grows. They drive their victims into a vicious spiral fueled by self-preservation and desperation until all becomes a frozen wasteland, and their victims are encased in a prison of ice. They are ruthless creatures with no respect for life. Only harmony can push back their influence. It’s not just a way of life for our people. It is a literal shield.”
“Certainly different from our version,” Shawn muttered. “But it’s probably best not to elaborate on that.”
“Yours is worse?”
“Makes yours look like a mosquito,” Taze said.
“In any case,” Shawn sighed, “you get the idea. Our relations to Princess Celestia are strained at the moment, resulting in our current situation.”
“I assume that means you would prefer to keep your interactions primarily limited to Princess Luna, then,” Twilight Velvet mused.
“Basically.” Shawn nodded.
“That could complicate matters. Celestia was the one who taught Twilight in the first place. And if it weren’t for her, Shining Armor wouldn’t be where he is today either.” She frowned. “That being said, a life debt far exceeds anything else she may have given us. If I should be asked to influence you in some way, I’ll be certain to inform you of it.”
“We appreciate it.” Shawn gave a small smile.
The room was quiet for a time. Finally, Twilight Velvet broke the silence. “Then I suppose now what matters is simply getting to know one another better. Why don’t you tell me about your world, and I’ll do what I can to teach you more about ours.”
“There are certainly plenty of differences.” Shawn gave a brief chuckle. “But, I suppose it would help explain how we are.”
“That was certainly more pleasant than I anticipated,” Shawn commented. After reuniting with Moonshade, they set out toward their residence.
“Not really how you’d expect Twilight's mother, huh?” Taze asked.
“She’s not what I expected, yeah.” Shawn nodded.
“Honestly, Shawn, I think it’s safe to say everything is not what we expected,” Matthew said pointedly.
“Fair enough.” Shawn shrugged.
“Still better to be surprised than disappointed,” Taze noted. “Nice to know there are some names we can trust.”
“And nice to know we don’t have to necessarily be worried about being seen by other people anymore, too,” Matthew said with a smile.
“I’d say it’s still something to pay attention to,” Shawn commented. “We’re still foreign beings in a foreign land.”
“That's fair.” Taze nodded.
“It’s best you know which nobles you can trust,” Moonshade added.
“So far, we have House Twilight and Fancy Pants.” Shawn frowned. “Two out of a much larger set. Better than none, at the very least.”
“Yes, well, there are others, but they’ll take their own time, I imagine,” Moonshade said.
“It appears politics are the same, no matter what world you live in.” Matthew sighed. “How disappointing.”
“Maybe, but at least we can predict it to a degree,” Taze noted.
“Indeed.” Shawn sighed as he glanced around. They were passing through a shopping district from the looks of it. He could note several stores of potential interest, but most fell on the side of expensive and unneeded. Jewelry stores, a few stores for clothes, magic oriented shops, an arcade….
He slowed his walk and raised a brow as he took notice of the arcade. “That’s a sight I didn’t expect.”
“We gotta check this out,” Taze said, even as he strode toward it like a moth to the flame. “I wonder what their video games look like.”
“Definitely, but I don’t know about right now, Taze.” Shawn frowned as he thought it over. “It’s tempting. I’ll give it that, though.”
“What's the harm in just a look?” Taze asked.
Shawn thought it over for a moment and finally shrugged. “Ah, screw it. Let’s take a look.”
“You think they’ll have any of the classics?” Matthew asked.
“Maybe something similar, but I doubt it’ll be too accurate….”
Matthew sighed and shook his head as the door to their hidden room closed behind Shawn and Taze’s retreating backs. “Those two always did love the classics,” he said with a rueful smile.
“The classics? But those games are still relatively new,” Moonshade said.
“New for you, perhaps. But from what I’ve seen of the machines you have here, there are several similarities to older, but still very popular, games of our own back on Earth.”
“Huh. I thought the whole thing was a fad,” she admitted.
“It may be for the children of your world. But for people like us, who grew up without magic, the idea of creating worlds where magic could take us on adventures to save the day was a fun pastime, not unlike how some of your foals doubtless play at being royal guards or some other hero they look up to.”
“I suppose that makes sense. Still, you say these kinds of games are classic in your world? What are the newer ones like?”
Matthew smiled. “Do you have movies here?”
“We have films, yes.” She nodded.
“Let’s just say that our games are much like a film. Some have text boxes for dialogue. Others are ambitious enough to even record a person’s voice and have it play in time with the actions of the characters as they move. Without magic, our society has learned to innovate in other fields.”
“That sounds incredibly intricate,” Moonshade noted. “I didn’t think technology could do quite that much.”
“Much of what technology can and cannot do is still not known to us. But we like to theorize in the form of science fiction. It’s one of our most popular forms of media. I couldn’t even begin to tell you all of how it works. I and my friends are merely humble users, consumers of a product, if you will.”
“Your world sounds interesting. Our technology only grows in certain small leaps every now and then. Most things are done the same as they were a thousand years ago.”
Matthew frowned. “How odd. I wouldn’t think it would take that long for such a tightly-knit society to advance. Then again, you do have the benefit of magic to assist you. That probably makes the need for innovation practically nonexistent.”
“Possibly.” Moonshade nodded. “It’s probably better than living in caves and farming mushrooms.”
“Or pretending to be an animal to scavenge for love,” Mutatio added as he dropped from the ceiling. “My apologies for not greeting you. I was sleeping.”
“You don’t always have to greet us, Mutatio,” Matthew said.
“But is that not the polite thing to do? That is what you call it, is it not?”
Matthew chuckled. “Touché. You’re really starting to get the hang of being social. At least with the basics.”
Mutatio nodded. “Thank you.” He greeted Moonshade with a bow. “It is good to see you again. I hope your outing was successful.”
“It was adequate.” Moonshade nodded. She was still notably on edge about the Changeling, but attempting to be polite.
“That is the best that can be hoped for.” Mutatio nodded. “Where are the others?”
“Exploring,” Matthew explained. “They’ll be back later.”
Mutatio nodded. “Understood. Will we be resuming our lessons today?”
“Soon, Mutatio. I would like to finish my conversation with Moonshade first.”
“Then I will wait until you are finished.” Mutatio nodded, then flew back to the ceiling.
“He seems to be learning fast,” Moonshade commented.
“If he’s anything like how young humans are, then his capacity for learning will be vast during these next couple of years. A child can learn and retain more information in a matter of hours than most adults can in months.”
“That is similar to Ponies, with few exceptions, like Twilight Sparkle. You generally learn faster when you're a foal.”
“Speaking of learning, though, I’m curious, Moonshade. What was growing up like for you? What were you taught, and where did you receive your education?”
She sighed at this question. “You’d best sit down. This will take a while…”
The final fitting for the trio of friends left them standing in pale white suits with a hint of purple. Blue accents in the form of flower buttonholes and ties with silver woven through helped to bring the look together. Due to their lack of hooves, the fashionista had to reach out to some old friends in the community to cobble together sets of dress shoes fit for a king. Or in this case, three noble guests. Much like the rest of their garb, the color was primarily white, though the sole of the shoes had somehow been transmuted from the typical dark hide to a sparkling silver to rival the flash of gold. To help distinguish the trio, Rarity also had the foresight to have three rings crafted. The first was of pure gold with a sapphire set on its top. The second was forged from black iron with a blazing emerald that flashed with frozen tongues of yellow flame. The third was a silver band studded with diamonds that seemed almost to flicker like starlight. A single tophat bound by silver ribbon at its base and a fancy cane completed Matthew’s accoutrement.
“Now, normally, I would insist on including a proper hat for all three of you, but I had the distinct impression that you two would rather dislike them,” Rarity noted as she gazed pensively at the trio.
“Hats don’t work too well for me.” Shawn gave a weak smile. “Admittedly, this suit’s a bit more than I’ve had for going to a wedding.”
“I suppose that’s to be expected with the differences between our two worlds. It’s not too much, I hope.”
“It’s all right. Though, the ring is certainly an interesting addition.”
“Are we done yet?” Taze asked. “This monkey suit’s driving me crazy.”
“I need you to move around in them to see how they hold. After that, I can have any last changes ready for you by the ceremony.”
Matthew smiled. He stepped off and walked in a series of marches to show his movements and how the fabric clung or sagged.
Taze did a short walk, then swung his arms around and performed some basic movements to test the range.
Shawn sighed as he performed a short series of movements with his arms to test the lengths of the sleeves, followed by basic movement for his pants. “Seems fine to me.”
Rarity smiled and nodded. “I do believe you’re ready.”
“That is good news to hear. I’m going to take a stab in the dark and say you’ll hold onto these for alterations needed and we come to you tomorrow before the wedding?”
Rarity shook her head. “No, there’s no need. You can take the suits with you or keep them here as you wish to change into before the ceremony.”
“I think I’ll take mine with me, then,” Matthew said with a grin.
“It’d probably be best to keep it with us. Ease of access and all that.” Shawn nodded. “Though, for now, I think I’m going to swap back into my usual attire.”
“You can keep mine,” Taze said, moving to swap back his stuff as well.
“I’ll make sure to keep it ready for you, then.” Rarity nodded.
“All right, after this comes the last rehearsal. And then the event takes place tomorrow.” Shawn hummed to himself as he kept track of everything.
“And then we figure out what to do from there.” Taze nodded.
“Agreed,” Matthew concurred. “Hopefully, I can finally get to see a museum.”
“I’m sure you’ll get the time after the wedding,” Shawn said.
Rarity smiled. “In that case, I suppose I’ll see you at the rehearsal dinner, darlings.”
The wedding itself was succinct and beautiful. Cadance was anything but the bridezilla that Chrysalis had made her out to be. The Vows were exchanged, as was the kiss that would seal them together for the rest of their lives. The crowds cheered, and Rainbow Dash unleashed the full power of her sonic rainboom to mark the occasion. Finally, the radiant afternoon trailed to evening as the stars slowly began to shine and the moon peeked along the horizon. What followed was incredibly touching as the two who were the center of this great celebration shared a loving nuzzle. At a subtle nod from Twilight Sparkle, a grinning Pinkie Pie zipped out of sight and returned moments later with a white pony wearing DJ glasses and a very unique piece of technology.
“Arcades, and now a turntable.” Taze chuckled, sitting back in his seat as he took a drink of punch while Twilight Sparkle began her musical number. “Their technology really is eclectically developed, isn’t it?”
Matthew nodded as he watched the Ponies dance or feast on the offerings from the buffet table. “I agree.” He grinned as the wind carried a sound. “I can’t tell if it’s coming or going, but I heard the steam whistle.”
“You have a problem, my friend.” Taze chuckled.
“And what would that be?”
“The train station is almost two miles away. The train shouldn’t even be at the station for another, I dunno, twenty minutes. You're picking that whistle up miles outside of Canterlot.”
“So? Whistles can travel long distances,” Matthew countered, not really getting the problem.
“During a reception, with active music, people talking, and other such noises?” Taze raised an eyebrow.
“I like trains. That’s all I have, really, Taze. I’ve got to do something. I don’t know how to dance with a Pony, and I don’t know many dance moves, so I have to listen to the music, Pony watch, and spend time with my friends. That, and battle the urge to run screaming and break down over everything.”
“It’ll take time.” Shawn sighed. “Especially given recent events. But the only thing we’ve got is forward momentum. So, we’ll take each day, step by step.”
“At least we’re not alone.” Taze shrugged.
“And after this, hopefully, you never will be,” Cadance said as she approached with her new husband. “Shining and I owe you, after all.”
“And on top of that, I owe you all a proper apology,” Shining said seriously as he looked over the trio. “I don’t know all of what I put everyone through, but I remember enough to know I hurt people.” He smiled ruefully. “It … wasn’t my finest hour, to say the least. I can’t take back what I did or said then, but if you need something from me, ask. I’ll do everything in my power to deliver.”
“Start by reminding yourself where your duty lies,” Taze said. “That's what you seemed to forget, even without the brainwashing. You're a married man now, and someday you may even have children. Make sure that you remember your rash words almost alienated you from someone you loved dearly, and your tunnel vision almost brought your nation to heel. I can forgive a lot, given the details, but you need to prove to me that you're worth it.”
“That’s a start, at least,” Shining said. “And that’s all I can ask for.”
“That's all I can offer,” Taze replied.
“Well, I’d like to offer congratulations on the wedding,” Matthew said. “I don’t exactly read equine body language well, but it looks like you two love each other very deeply.”
Cadance smiled. “That we do. And I can’t wait to spend the rest of our lives together.”
“Indeed.” Shawn gave a gentle smile. “But, you have plenty of time to look to the future. For now, I’d suggest enjoying the moment.” He gestured to the event around them.
“Part of that is seeing you three,” Cadance said with a wink. “But I suppose it’s only fair that we get back on the dance floor. There are more people to see before we ride off into the night.” She kissed her husband on the cheek. “And then we’ll have another adventure waiting for us.”
Shining Armor blushed. “We’ll, um,” his voice cracked and he cleared his throat. “We’ll see you three later then, hopefully.” And with that said, the two strode back toward the dance floor and their many friends and guests.
“Well, that went about as expected,” Taze said.
“That it did.” Shawn sighed.
“Is that a bad thing?” Matthew asked.
“Not at all. Just a long day, as expected,” Shawn explained.
“It’ll be nice to sleep all of this off,” Matthew agreed. “Were we planning on staying until they drive off?”
“It’d probably be a good thing to do. Though I do wonder when that’ll take place.”
“Oh, I’d say pretty soon,” a pink party Pony said offhandedly with a smile. Confetti flew into the air as she leaped up and shouted, “Best party ever!” before galloping back toward the games where the foals had gathered to join them in merrymaking.
The air was calm and filled with the scent of incense as the two sisters sat together in council. The festivities were over, the newlyweds safely set off on their honeymoon. The roars and cheers had settled into the peaceful calm of night as the moon and stars spread their peaceful blanket over the world and ushered most of the kingdom’s denizens to sleep. The chamber in which the two royal sisters now met was decorated simply and warded with the proper charms to protect against eavesdroppers and scans alike. A tea tray sat next to Celestia, where the teapot and her cup both steamed. A massive tankard of ale sat before the Lunar princess on a solid wooden table that had been heavily reinforced with charms to ensure its sturdiness against the unnatural strength of the Alicorn.
Celestia sighed and sipped from her cup. “I’d like to start with small talk, but we both know that’s not going to help anything here. I’ll admit it. I messed up.”
“Yes. To be frank, Sister, from a military perspective, you BUBARed this situation,” Luna said evenly. “But not quite beyond repair. Though it won’t be fast, I think.”
“I don’t expect it to be.” She sighed and shook her head. “Regardless, recent events have shown just how woefully unprepared my negligence has made our troops. She was right under my nose, Luna, and I didn’t even recognize the signs! I should have known better. I should have—” The cup shattered, and tea splattered onto the floor. “Oh, Faust damn it,” she swore. “If he could see me now….”
“You kept the country from war for over a thousand years,” Luna said in a comforting tone. “More than admirable for anyone. The issue is that other nations eventually grow to view your passivity for weakness. They forget the damage we’ve done to their ancestors.”
“I feel like such a fool. And the worst part is, I’d probably do it all again.” Celestia sighed as she struggled to regain her composure. “The one thing I might have changed was not telling them the stakes.”
“Why do you think they are angry?” Luna asked her. “Do you realize why they're upset?”
“Shawn already made that abundantly clear after I visited him. They were all hurt because of my choice. Shawn nearly lost his life. And were it not for a miracle we have yet to determine, he would have been paralyzed for life, if not in a permanent coma. I deliberately placed them in harm’s way in the hopes that I could smoke out our enemy. You saw where that led.”
Luna sighed “So close, and yet so far away. You're missing the point, sister. Let's start from the beginning with the information I've been able to ascertain.” Carefully, she took several small cookies and arranged them, sorting by type. “We Ponies live together easily, at first by type, and then later as a combined nation,” she said, indicating several types of cookies making one larger pile. “For the most part, Ponies look toward the good of the herd through instinct. What's better for everybody is better for the self. Would you say this is essentially correct?”
“That and the Hearth’s Warming legend hanging over their heads,” Celestia said.
“Humans aren't like that, though,” Luna said. “They form groups, and then those groups may form larger groups, and those groups will form still larger groups. The problem is these groups could be decided by anything, a similar tribe or type, an ideal, or possibly just the need to survive. You would think these large groups all trust each other, wouldn’t you?”
“Naturally.”
“And you’d be wrong, Sister. From what I can tell from their dreams and the information Moonshade has given me, humans distrust each other on instinct. It seems even uncommon for one to fully trust their own blood beyond a point. Thus, when humans find one they believe they can trust, and that bond is shown to be true through the fires and flames of life, they consider that person theirs of a sort. Their friends, their associates, their humans. None of these three humans is angry that you put them in danger, Celestia. They’re angry you put the other two in danger.”
Tears rose in Celestia’s eyes, and she swore again as she wiped them away. “So, they’re brothers in arms, just like,” she winced. “Like the other humans I knew.”
“That's compounded onto the fact that their culture is warlike at its heart. Acts we might consider normal here are often looked at with great respect. Add on that their distrust seems to lead to an almost cultural paranoia and you have a truly Discordian mixture of a being. I’d say we got lucky the ones that landed on our doorstep were as moral as they are. I’ve seen similar personalities in Thestrals and Gryphons, but even they trust their clans and their tribes.”
“Then what do you suggest, Luna? You seem more capable of understanding them than I do.”
“I understand them only because I understand the chaos of battle better than you do, Celestia. To stand in the middle of disaster, not sure who you can trust and who has a knife for you.” Luna sighed. “For starters, if they are to come back to the castle, we need to offer them a place that seems less like a prison. I know that's not what you intended, sister, but it is likely what they felt. For the long term, I think we need somewhere we can send them that gives them some personal freedom, possibly a task added onto it to show a bit of trust. I can imagine it will only be a matter of time before your nephew or any number of the idiots at court put a flame to this powder keg.”
Celestia groaned. “Please, don’t even get me started about the Bluebloods.”
“Also, we need a show of solidarity, at least toward the public. I do believe their actions in the invasion have earned them a royal thank you,” Luna noted.
“There is no way they would be willing to go through with a ceremony like that. I agree, they deserve rewards for what they’ve done, but if we are to reward them properly and give them the protection they require, it will need to be something sufficient enough to pacify them toward the ceremony.”
“To be frank, Celestia, that part is rather easy enough,” Luna noted. “Up until now, either myself or you have been covering their expenses, and I imagine the concept is somewhat disconcerting for them.”
“And what do you suggest as a means to remedy this situation?”
“Oh, Sister, I thought that would be obvious.” Luna took a shot of an unnamed liquor from a crystal glass. “We pay them.”
“And you honestly expect them to just accept that? That would be the equivalent of blood money. Do you really think that would help our relations?”
“Honestly, Sister, sometimes you must let people think what they will. We throw in a few sheets of paper with writing on them, maybe a trinket or two for looks, but in the end, money gives them more room to move about without worrying about us tracking everything they buy. If it’s blood money, let it be blood money. It works for the Gryphons and the Minotaurs.”
Celestia sighed. “I suppose I can’t make things any worse than they already are,” she said, even as she knocked on the table with a hoof.
“There is no fast track to this one, Sister.” Luna shrugged. “Time heals all wounds.”
“Or buries them,” Celestia said softly as she slowly picked up the shambles of her teacup with her magic. “They probably won’t hear of it from me. If we are to move forward with this, it will have to be with an emissary from you.”
“I figured as much.” Luna nodded.
“I’ll try to find a way to insulate them from the other nobles’ machinations in the meantime.”
“Then we are decided.” Luna nodded.
“Yes.” She sighed. “Let us hope that we won’t be facing any more such … surprises any time soon.”
Prince Blueblood gazed distastefully at the pulsing speakers and sighed as the music of the DJ thumped through the air. The song Twilight Sparkle prepared for her sibling was touching enough, if a little saccharine for his tastes. The rest was peasant fare designed to keep the masses moving. He shuddered at the sight of the foals milling and galloping to and fro for their games and treats. The very thought of those sticky, filthy hooves brushing against his coat gave him the willies. Still, it wasn’t every day that royalty married, and it was his duty as heir apparent to his house to attend. He mulled his cider in his glass before taking a sip and sighing again at the sight of Princess Cadance’s “guests of honor.”
“At the very least, you would think they would have the respect to leave those barbarous things behind,” he said as he motioned toward the weapons the humans kept at their sides. “The invasion is over, and they bear the favor of the princesses. It would be a fool’s errand for anypony to move against them so openly.”
“I have it on good authority that they’re commissioning more dangerous weapons from the royal smithies.” Lady Jet Set was a pale yellow Unicorn mare with a wavy mane and dark brown eyes that could become soft as coal or hard as diamonds at her will. Her pompous tone made it only too clear how she felt about the outsiders.
“At the very least, they had enough sense to come in the proper attire, darling,” her husband noted. “I half expected them to come wearing furs and armor with how often they frequent the lower quarters.”
“It is funny to hear you say zat, darling, while wearing zat imported Gryphon perfume,” a familiar voice spoke up as Fleur de Lis approached them with a smile. Her Phrench accent washed over them with equal grace. “I would think you would have more gratitude.”
“I never once said I was ungrateful for their efforts on our behalf, Lady Lis, merely that I believed their choice of weapons to be … inappropriate for this setting.
“Upper Crust, my friend, you need practice. Zat lie was so terrible.” She shook her head. “You are, as you say, being unbecoming of your title. These people sacrificed so much to help us when zey had no reason to. We’d all be in much trouble right now without zem.”
Upper Crust winced at the jab to his ribs from Jet Set as she greeted Fleur with a nod of acknowledgement. “You’ll have to forgive my husband, Lady Lis. He often gets caught up in the moment without thinking about the consequences of his words.” She bared her teeth in a smile. “I haven’t seen Fancy Pants tonight yet. Is he well? I hope he wasn’t injured during the attack.”
Fleur laughed. “Oh, mon amie, you underestimate him. Non, he is fine, just handling other matters right now.”
“Excellent. It would be a poor thing, indeed, for Princess Celestia to lose the counsel of one who is so favored in the courts.”
“Oh yes, he works so hard and puts himself through so much for the country he loves. Why, just last week, someone sent an assassin after him. And my dear, you would not believe this. The connard had the gall to claim you hired him. Is zat not hilarious?” Fleur asked, though her eyes held no mirth.
Prince Blueblood frowned. “An attempt on the life of a noble is no laughing matter, Lady Fleur. I hope you were able to deal with him or her accordingly. Were you able to find corroborating evidence for the murderer’s claims?”
“Oh, mon ami, if there had been proof of such outrageous claims, lady Jet Set wouldn’t be standing here right now, would she?” Fleur asked. She kept that kindly mirthful tone, even as the glass in her magical grip slowly and soundlessly cracked and broke, compacting in on itself until the pressure alone resealed it into a single small marble. “Oops. It seems I need a new drink.” She set the marble down and picked up a new champagne flute from a nearby tray.
“Indeed,” Blueblood agreed, even as he eyed the marble, then Jet Set.
“It seems that I’ll have to have a word with some of my informants,” Jet Set said as she narrowed her gaze. “I don’t take kindly to my name being used in such a vulgar manner.” She offered a cool nod to Fleur. “If you’ll excuse us, Lady Lis.”
“Of course.” Fleur nodded with a bright smile. “Have a wonderful evening.”
Blueblood watched the pair depart as they charged into the crowd with Jet Set dragging her husband behind her. Finally, he returned his attention to the mare. “I can’t speak entirely for my house, Lady Fleur, but if there is any way that I can be of assistance within my personal power, please let me know.”
Fleur smiled in that coquettish way that only the Phrench seemed capable of replicating. “And I you, Your Highness. If you’d be so kind as to excuse me, I have many more Ponies I must greet tonight.” She gave a short bow of the head before turning and unceremoniously vanishing into the crowd.
Prince Blueblood took a deep shuddering breath, even as his own glass began to tremble in his magical grasp. “Sweet Celestia. Is she an alpha?” he muttered.
Shawn gave a small grin as he witnessed the departure of Cadance and Shining Armor. It wasn’t until they had left line of sight that he finally let out a sigh, allowing his shoulders to drop for a moment. “And, that’s the end of that.”
Taze sighed. “Why do I feel like it’s the end of a prologue?”
“Because there’s no way things can be simple,” Shawn replied simply.
“Sounds about right.” Taze nodded.
“Well, we are still going to be here till they find a way to send us home, now that this is finished. I’m both thrilled and terrified, honestly. With everything that’s happened, we’ll probably be the next focus of the nobility. We’re new, unknown creatures, and that means they want to ingrain their houses in our good graces for when they think communications are open between our societies.” He swallowed nervously. “And that’s the optimistic outlook.”
“I suppose optimism is the best choice we have.” Taze nodded. “Just wish we had some idea what to do next.”
“Probably figure out a point of survival.” Shawn hummed. “Need a stable point to stand on before we could branch out from there.”
“Then it seems like I may have caught the three of you at the right time,” Luna said as she approached.
Shawn looked to Luna with a raised brow. “I assume you were meaning to catch us before we left?”
“We need to talk,” she said bluntly.
“Is here fine, or do you want us to follow you elsewhere?” Shawn asked.
“I think we need to talk somewhere private,” Luna said. “It concerns how things are going to go forward from here.”
Shawn glanced to the others briefly before taking a breath. “Lead the way.”
Matthew followed the group slowly as Luna strode along the path. A toss of her head caused the firmament to become bright and lustrous. The streets were mostly quiet, now that the many guests and subjects had streamed toward their homes. The murmur of voices whispered in tired sighs and yawns as sparkles sifted from above in a silvery cloud that seemed to miss the four as they walked.
“So let's not play the small talk game,” Luna said bluntly. “I'm not here to order you, and I’m not here to bargain. I'm here to ask a favor.”
“And that would be?” Shawn questioned.
“I need you to publicly give Celestia face. Your part in the resistance against Chrysalis has already spread around the population, and they’re going to be expecting some sort of acknowledgement from the crown.”
“So some sort of award ceremony. Will this include the rest of the guards? Thestrals as well? They fought as hard, if not harder than we did,” Matthew said.
“Yes, and they are to be commended. However, the public expects its guard to defend it. It does not expect three foreign aliens with no ties to do so.”
Matthew frowned, “May I be bold enough to ask permission to witness the award ceremony for your troops, then? Because, with all due respect, this reeks of politics, and I’d rather thank the real soldiers of the hour.”
“They’d probably be happy to have you attend.” Luna nodded. “Unfortunately, this is not the subject at hand.”
Matthew nodded. “Then I suppose at least I’ll be willing to help Princess Celesita save face this time.”
“Let’s not rush into that decision right away,” Shawn spoke up. “Given the fact that we’re stuck in this spotlight, it would be best to at least minimize exposure.” He turned to Luna. “What would the repercussions be?”
“It would appear as though the crown had insulted a foriegn power. While I imagine Celestia would be forgiven, the disgrace would follow her for a very long time, and it would lessen her power over the nobility significantly.”
Shawn sighed. “Given their nature, it wouldn’t really work well for the nation. If we did go, there are several points that need to be discussed beforehand.”
“So I imagined.” Luna nodded. “I implied such to Celestia myself.”
“The first point that I believe the three of us can agree on is actual security, if it takes place. The Solar Guard may be the more up front, but we’d prefer actual guards. Beyond that, how public would this ceremony be?” Shawn asked.
“I’ll assign my personal guards to you, as before,” Luna assured them. “Unfortunately, the entire ceremony would be very public.”
“Joy.” Shawn sighed. “And I get the feeling that can’t be negotiated.”
Luna shook her head. “You’d also need to return to the palace, though you’d be coming and going as you please in a room set near my own quarters.”
“Complete freedom to leave the palace into the city, correct?” Shawn questioned. “I get the whole, ‘don’t leave the city’ bit, but we will be free to come and go from said room at our leisure, right?”
Luna nodded. “After the ceremony is done, we’ll see about putting you out of the spotlight until we can send you home.”
“We’re an unknown,” Shawn stated bluntly. “We lost that ability when we were put in said spotlight. It’ll take time before we get that ability again.”
“Maybe in Canterlot, but Equestria is vast, and there are plenty of places you could live comfortably and not be the center of attention.”
Shawn looked her in the eyes for a moment before sighing. “Unless Taze has any objections, then I suppose the three of us can accept those terms.”
Taze thought about it. “We’ll do what we have to, I guess.” Then he sighed.
Luna nodded. “Are there any other stipulations you have?”
“Nothing at the moment, though there are a few things I’d like to discuss with you alone afterwards,” Shawn replied.
“Very well.” Luna nodded. “I’ll arrange some time after. For now, would it be fair to say our business is complete?”
“So it would seem.”
“Then I’ll take my leave. I have preparations to make.” Luna nodded. “I’ll have a guard lead you to your new room when you're ready to move, make sure your … friend keeps under wraps.”
“Yeah, … he’d certainly bring more trouble.” Shawn sighed.
“Until next time,” Luna said as she turned and headed off.
The rooms that had been prepared for the trio were more closely associated with the night, as was to be expected for the wing of the castle they had been transferred into. Three great beds had been set in place under a large arching ceiling that pulsed with starry constellations and nebulae to light it up by night. Bookshelves and desks had been added for each human to make use of in their studies as they endeavored to better understand and speak the Equestrians’ language. A set of double doors opened out onto a large balcony that overlooked the castle grounds and the great waterfall. The view stretched on for miles, granting the humans a picturesque scene. The bathroom was exactly that, a true bath room. Steam rose in wisps from the pool-sized baths that spouted hot water from various miniaturized animals shaped like foxes, dragons, manticores, vipers, wolves, bears, and lions. A number of sinks and mirrors were also available, along with a shower stall for when they weren’t in the mood to wade or swim.
“Certainly more of an upgrade than I expected,” Shawn commented.
“I wonder if it’s symbolism?” Taze asked as he looked over the animals.
“It could be,” Matthew replied. “I mean, this is Princess Luna, after all. She doesn’t strike me as the type to indulge in opulence for opulence’s sake.”
“It’s an interesting line up of animals,” Taze noted.
“An interesting view out the balcony, too,” Matthew commented.
“Indeed.” Shawn sighed. “While we’ll still have guards with us, we were cleared for free movement around the city, so she fully held up her end of the deal here.”
“She’s only been honest with us from the beginning. I can’t see her saying or doing anything less than she promises, based on what we’ve seen and heard so far,” Matthew replied.
“Yeah, I know.” Shawn rubbed the back of his head. “I just … keep getting these feelings.”
“What sort of feelings, exactly?”
“Like something isn’t right.” Shawn frowned. “Like a constant nagging in the back of my mind that something just isn’t right, and I can’t put my finger on it.”
“We’re in a world of magical talking ponies,” Taze noted. “And we just survived an invasion by shape-changing insectoid ponies who eat love. You may need to narrow your scope there.”
“That’s the thing. I literally cannot. I can’t explain what’s giving me these feelings, nor can I explain why. Honestly, it’s getting worse than when we first arrived.”
Matthew frowned. “That’s definitely not good. Maybe there’s something in your head that’s causing it? I mean, this is a magical world, after all. Aren’t there creatures that can do that sort of thing?”
“It’s doubtful that any are close enough to,” Moon shade commented. “Most mind magic requires a relatively short range.”
“So, could it be something related to trauma, then?” Matthew suggested.
“It’s … definitely not. Nevermind, let’s just settle in for now,” Shawn dismissed.
Matthew nodded as he turned to his duffel bag on the bed he had claimed. “Want a book to read to take your mind off it?”
Shawn shook his head. “I’ve got stuff I want to get on paper, a few designs. Maybe later.”
“More of your designs?” Taze chuckled as he opened a bag he’d been given. He’d managed to borrow a few books from the Sparkle library, and was going to brush up on Equestrian history.
“Gives me something to work on.” Shawn shrugged.
“Just how many of those things have you drawn up since we got here?” Matthew asked.
“I mean, I used to do this plenty for my work as is, so it’s nothing too crazy.”
“That … doesn’t exactly answer my question.”
“I don’t have an answer.” Shawn shrugged. “I don’t really keep track of how many I’ve made.”
“Leave him alone,” Taze said as he opened a book. “Pretty sure people didn’t question da Vinci.”
Matthew sighed. “All right.” Then he turned to face Moon Shade. “Did you want something to read to help pass the time? I don’t have a large collection, but it’s enough to share, if you’re interested.”
“I’m not sure I'd be able to read any of your collection,” Moonshade noted.
“I could teach you, if you would like.” He chuckled. “Maybe we can teach each other a little without this thing helping,” he said as he motioned to his amulet. “I’d like to be able to do things without it one day.”
“I suppose we could try,” Moonshade said. “It may be beneficial to know how your language is written.”
Matthew Smirked. “Especially since those nobles don’t know a lick of it.”
Moon Shade smirked in return. “That is a good point.” She nodded, moving up to him “Let's get started.”
Luna sat waiting as Shawn was seen into her balcony. She stood by a fine onyx table which had been set with a large silver flagon intricately carved with the same animal figures he’d seen in their room. She lifted the mug in a toast to him as he was led to her. “I hope you don’t mind, but I figured we’d have this talk on the balcony.”
“That’s fine.” Shawn gave a nod as he leaned against the railing.
Luna nodded in return and gazed after him. “Something is troubling you. I assume it’s separate from the arrangements we’ve already made.”
“Yeah. The arrangement’s fine, so there’s nothing to worry about there. I was wondering if I could make a personal request, if it’s in the realm of possibility.”
“The only way to know that is for you to ask it.”
Shawn took a few seconds to form his question before letting out a soft sigh. “Given the whole situation that happened, I was wondering if a ceremony for those lost had occurred already? If it has not, though I didn’t know many of them, I would like to at least go to honor them.”
Luna nodded. “It’s only fair that you honor your comrade. You may not have known Crescent long, but from what I’ve been told, you were able to wield his glaive. No normal being could have done that. It would take someone with immense magical power to break through the restriction. And you don't have any to speak of. That means that you met the hidden requirement of the magic to enable the weapon’s use. And that requirement is trust. Crescent trusted you completely and implicitly. That particular kind of trust is not bestowed lightly by my children. You have more than earned the right to attend the proceedings.”
“Thank you,” Shawn replied as he looked to Luna. “Truly.”
Luna nodded gravely. “You have the soul of a warrior, Shawn.” Her horn glowed, and before the human’s eyes, a second vessel was summoned. This one was fashioned after a great bear with its silver teeth glinting brightly in the moonlight. A drink was poured, and Luna offered the vessel to Shawn. “Will you do me the honor of joining me as I drink to his memory?”
“Without hesitation,” Shawn replied with a soft smile as he took hold of the vessel. After a brief moment, he lifted it higher. “To the fallen. May the afterlife grant them everything they deserve.”
Luna nodded. “And until the day of reunion comes, I will endeavor to watch over their families, so that they may rest in peace.” She raised her stein in a return to Shawn’s salute, then brought it to her lips and drank deeply.
“Usque in occursum nobis,” Shawn spoke softly before taking a drink himself.
The dream world, was much as one would expect it, an ephemeral labyrinth of ever-changing pathways and scenery. That being said, Luna had always believed she’d gained a good sense of direction within, as well as an understanding with the fading consciousness of the realm that she had dubbed Morpheus. She had never truly had trouble coming or going before, never found a world she could not force her way into or a Pony she could not help.
Which made Shawn all the more of a curiosity to her. To say his dream state was closed off to her would be a gross understatement. She could feel the turbulence within, feel the ripples of the nightmares that assailed the sleeper in his own mind.
And yet she could not get past the door before her.
“It’s wrong…. It’s all wrong. It doesn’t add up.”
It caused her to go cold in her bones, a sentiment she’d heard a lot over the last few days. She spurred herself on even harder, tearing down the chains and shattering the portcullis. Then she attacked the door beyond with everything he had.
Every attempt had been like this. Every attempt had ended in failure. Why was his mind so well defended? Why was she so cut off from helping him?
But no. Tonight would be different. She would not allow this any longer. She slammed her own consciousness repeatedly at the barricade in front of her, forming it into a battering ram, then a crowbar, then a drill. Little by little, she was wearing it away. Already, she could see it beginning to open to her slightly. She could almost feel the other end of the passage before her.
She felt it crack. She felt the portal open for a second and pushed her consciousness forward.
...
Only for her to be thrown back at the last moment as several more barricades fell. Heavy doors of reinforced iron with locks and chains of every shape imaginable slammed in place, shoving her back farther and farther. And then, slowly, the portal began to fade, indicating the one behind it was waking.
Shawn gasped as he sat upright in his bed. Like every time before, his hand clutched at his chest as he regulated his breathing. Every night, the same thing happened. Whatever he dreamed of would wake him, and he could never remember what it was.
After taking several breaths, he finally sighed deeply and removed his covers. There wasn’t a chance he’d get back to sleep. He put on his boots and stood upright quietly. Given the fact they were sharing a room, he wouldn’t be able to get anything done without potentially waking the others.
Upon opening the door, he noted a glint of lunar armor off to the side of the doorway, “Morning Cres…” He trailed off as his mind caught up with him. “Right, sorry….” He sighed, ensuring he closed the door behind him.
“You're not wearing your amulet,” Moonshade noted with a raised eyebrow.
“Right.” He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out the amulet, placing it around his neck. “Forget sometimes. Sorry.”
“You and crescent seemed to have made progress in your Equish,” she said.
“Yeah,” Shawn replied, moving over to Moonshade’s side as he leaned back against the wall. “Given this whole … situation, I would talk with him while he was on shift. Taught me some things, and I taught him some of our words.”
She nodded. “Well, it’s good to know he made the most of it.”
“Yeah.” He frowned. “He was actually the first one to warn me. If it weren’t for that, things might have been different for us.”
Moon shade smirked. “He must have found you worth saving. My people value respect. You probably showed him more of that than most of the Ponies he grew up around.”
“I suppose. Luna taught me some things, since Crescent wasn’t able to…” He sighed. “If anything, I’m glad I at least got the Changeling that was impersonating him, if nothing else.”
“You avenged him. That is more than most would do for my kind.” She shrugged. “They're proud of the puffed-up Pegasus, but when the real dirty work has to be done, they expect us to do it without a word.”
“Though the world may not look kindly upon you, at the least they know your worth, right?”
“If they want to keep their security.” She laughed. “Though I imagine you’ve been facing some pretty harsh battles yourself. I’m not sure how you function on so little sleep. Your other friend there would probably sleep all day and think nothing of it if you let him.”
“Probably.” He chuckled. “While it wasn’t this bad, I did deal with Insomnia back home, followed by another day of work in most cases. I’m used to a little less sleep than others, though this is quite a difference.”
“You're also suffering from nightmares,” she noted.
“Yeah.” He sighed, rubbing the back of his head. “I just can’t recall them. That’s the part that gets me.”
“Sounds like you're suppressing them.” Moonshade nodded. “I’m surprised Princess Luna hasn’t helped you with them.”
Shawn blinked a few times. “Right, she can do that. Unless, maybe she can’t for us? Combining all the factors, we may just be too ‘foreign.’”
Moonshade shrugged. “I suppose that's the best answer we’ll get.”
“I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to ask her next time I see her.” He shrugged. “Until then, I suppose I have one question for you, if you’d be willing. Seeing as I have absolutely nothing to do until the others wake up, would you mind helping me with my Equish?”
Moonshade nodded. “Might as well. it may help me get ahead of Matthew,” she noted.
“Indeed.” He gave a soft smile as he pulled off his amulet. “Prepare for much work.”
“Did you mean to say prepare for a challenge?” she asked, pronouncing the last word slowly in her native tongue.
The morning light shone through the balcony door to pierce the veil of shadow as the gentle waft of nebulae and shifting celestial bodies dimmed. As was only natural, the power of night yielded to the claim of day, and the golden rays graced the faces of the humans.
“Let's hope this goes quickly,” Taze noted as he tested the straps on his armor.
“You do realize this is a royal function, right?” Matthew deadpanned as he pulled on his uniform.
“Exactly. The shorter the better,” Taze said.
“It won’t be short. That much, I am certain on,” Shawn replied as he adjusted the cuff’s of his coat.
“At least it’s the only one we have to worry about for now,” Matthew said. “And Luna did promise they were going to try to find a way to keep us out of the limelight.”
“That’s going to be a challenge, given the nature of our being.” Shawn sighed.
“I just hope we find sometime we can duck out eventually,” Taze said. “Otherwise, it’s going to be a long night.”
Matthew frowned. “I don’t think they’d take it that far, Taze.”
“Ten to one says I’m right.” Taze shrugged.
“If I were a betting man, I’d take those odds.”
“It’s only today, so I’m sure we can manage,” Shawn replied.
“I will remain here,” Mutatio said. “It would be … awkward for the enemy to attend such an event. The idea makes me feel … uncomfortable.”
“I expect that it would, given what it’s about,” Shawn replied.
“I will continue to keep my promise,” Mutatio reaffirmed. “And I will await your return.”
“Be safe,” Taze said, holding a fist to the Changeling.
Mutatio cocked his head in confusion. “Why … are you holding your hand in that way?”
He lifted Mutatio’s hoof and pressed it against his fist. “Like this,” he explained.
“What is the purpose of this action?”
“It’s a show of friendship,” Taze explained. “A gesture of good will.”
Mutatio blinked slowly, then looked at his hoof and back at Taze’s fist. “I will remember this for the future, then.”
Taze nodded and rubbed the Changeling’s head. “Later, buddy.”
“Until we meet again, Mutatio,” Matthew said with a gentle smile. “Keep up the good work with your studies. Soon you won’t have to pause at all when you speak.”
Shawn simply gave a nod towards Mutatio before the three rose and strode out the door.
The chamber was quiet as Celestia finished transferring the bits into each of the bags and double checked each scroll to ensure her seal had been applied. The silken ties waited to wrap around each parchment. They needed only Luna’s seal to finish the deal.
“I can’t guarantee this will prevent the nobles from trying to influence them, but it will guarantee them at least a modicum of privacy,” the solar princess said
“Yes, well, I’m sure they’ll be safe from that out of Canterlot,” Luna noted as she applied her seal. “Most of the nobility wouldn’t deign to leave the city.”
“At least not without a reason like checking their holdings somewhere.” Celestia sighed. “I miss the days when they actually cared about honor. I had hoped with the return of the elements that they might be inspired to change, that the magic could return with that harmony. Instead, ….” She sighed again.
“They cared about honor because it protected them,” Luna noted. “Safe people rarely care about honor.”
“I suppose I’m one to talk.” Celestia smiled sadly. “You’re the only one of us who hasn’t tarnished her honor yet.”
“Really?” Luna asked with a raised eyebrow. “Did you honestly forget Nightmare Moon?”
“We both know that wasn’t all you.”
“We both know,” Luna said. “They do not. Nor do they care.”
“I do.” Celestia laid her forehead against her sister’s as they shared an intimate moment together. “You always took after him more than I ever could. And I hope you will always remember that.”
“It keeps me going some nights,” Luna admitted.
Celestia smiled as she pulled back. “Good. I think he’d come back to kick both our flanks if we ever forgot it.”
“You should have Dawnsear for this,” Luna said pointedly.
Celestia paused as she considered her sister’s words. “Normally, I would come up with an excuse not to,” she admitted, “but we just endured an attack on Canterlot, one that I was woefully unprepared for. Had I carried her with me then, I wouldn’t have had to engage with Chrysalis in a magical duel in the first place. And … perhaps, I needn’t have lost.” She nodded. “Very well. I assume you would also like for us to wear our armor as well?”
“It would be appropriate.” Luna nodded.
A wry smile pulled at Celestia’s lips. “And it would also scandalize the nobles?”
“We are commemorating people who helped us in a military endeavor,” Luna said, acting aghast. “It is only appropriate.”
“But of course. Just do me one favor, Sister.”
“And what would that be, my dear sister?”
“If any of the troops starts spouting that praise the sun nonsense, could you maybe hex them with a mild misfortune?”
“Sargent Solair may have a confusing name for a Thestral, but I assure you he has nothing but the greatest of respect for you, Sister,” Luna noted.
Celestia shuddered. “He may be sincere, but I’m not so certain about the rest of the troops that follow his example.”
“We’ll see with those idiots.” Luna chuckled. “For now, let’s get that armor out and see if we don’t need to make adjustments for all the cake you’ve eaten.”
“Please. Just because I haven’t gone to war doesn’t mean I haven’t kept in shape,” Celestia said with a proud toss of her mane.
An hour and many alterations with a hammer later, the two princesses left the room fully armored and ready, bearing their gifts behind them. It was time to put the plan into motion.
Pomp and Circumstance would be the most suitable description for the events that would go down in Equestrian history as one of the most unique events to occur at the castle, not because of the unique marriage between Shining Armor and Cadance, nor for the valor of the many heroic Ponies who offered their very lives in service to their country. This ceremony would go down in history for the official unveiling of Equestria’s newest species and their culture. The great balcony extended beyond its usual bounds in a style reminiscent of the animation style utilized for the great palace of Agrabah in Disney’s Aladdin. The great roar of the gathered crowd in the courtyard, squares, and streets below crashed and surged with the murmuring of many waves on the shore. The balcony was lined with soldiers, each in burnished armor and standing at military attention.
That murmuring soon came to a close as the clarion call of trumpets sounded and one clear voice rang over the crowd. “Introducing, their Royal Highnesses, Princess Celestia Solaris Galaxia and Princesses Luna Artemis Demeter Galaxia!”
The world changed as a veritable curtain of night swept over half of the gathering. Stars shone in the sky as the moon rose above the horizon to stand on one side of the tower while the sun shifted to stand on its opposite in its radiant glory. Twin flashes of gold and silver burst from the celestial bodies to cast their sparkles over the populace as the royal sisters flew out in their barding bearing their respective weapons. The two circled one another in an aerial dance as they descended toward the balcony to the thunderous roars of their subjects before returning the celestial bodies to their proper course and leaving the sisters to address the throng.
Celestia’s voice rang with magnified power to wash over the populace. “Citizens of Equestria!” she began. “It has only been a few weeks, but in that short time, we have had much cause for rejoicing. We joined with you to rejoice in the union of Shining Armor and Princess Cadance. We found great joy and solace in your fortitude and the efforts you have all made in the recovery of our nation during this unprecedented crisis. Although fear reared its ugly head, your strength and harmony in this adversity has allowed our kingdom to remain firmly grounded in its core beliefs that through unity in purpose, great deeds can be achieved.”
She raised a staying wing. “However, although there has been much good to emerge from the aftermath of recent events, we must also pay homage to those brave souls who were willing to sacrifice their very lives to preserve that unity, that joy in which we all endeavor to share. It is for this reason that my sister and I come forth to address you now, garbed as we are. And indeed, were it not for the efforts of three individuals in particular, it is very likely that an entirely different sort of address could be happening today, a celebration not of freedom and harmony, but of conquest and control.
“Some of you may have already seen them in more recent days as they have walked the streets of our fair city. These three heroes are members of a heretofore unknown race in Equestria. Their species is called humanity. It is unknown to either party exactly how they came to arrive in Equestria. However, that makes their actions all the more extraordinary and selfless. For despite knowing nothing of our people, our culture, or our ways, they chose to stand with us in our hour of need, even going so far as to willingly sacrifice their very bodies to ensure the continued livelihood of our community.
“These three, in concert with my beloved sister’s Lunar Guard, saved my life and the lives of Princess Cadance and Captain Shining Armor. As such, it is our pleasure and our honor to proclaim now and forever that these three humans are friends to the crowns of Equestria. We owe them all a debt of gratitude, and Equestria always repays her debts. My little Ponies, friends and dignitaries of the nations of Equis, we present to you the heroes of the hour, Lord Shawn, Sir Taze, and Matthew Conner of Earth!”
The two sisters stood aside and motioned with their wings toward the doors, which promptly opened under the their dual casting to allow the humans to step forth into the light. The roar of approbation was beyond thunderous as cheers and whistles joined with whoops, hollars, and other cheers to create a cacophony of sound while hooves clopped and others reared or flew to get a better view of the strange creatures who had been so influential in turning the tide of battle to save their lives and expel the Changeling threat.
“In gratitude for your actions, we, the rulers of Equestria and its people thank you,” Luna added her own bit with a salute of her hammer.
Taze gave a short bow at the waist. Matthew waved before following Taze’s example. Shawn, in turn, placed his left arm over his chest before giving his own short bow.
“We expect you all to treat these friends with proper respect,” Celestia continued. “But now it is time for us to council with our new friends and aid them in their adjustment to our lands. Thank you for coming, and may the blessings of the gods rest upon you all.”
With that final statement, the two princesses turned to their human guests as the guards along the balcony formed up in a color guard on either side to create a living wall as they presented their swords and spears in a salute to the heroes and their rulers. The five quickly entered into the privacy of the room, and as the doors closed, a collective sigh of relief passed through the chambers.
“One down, one more to go,” Celestia said as she patted the saddlebags at her sides with her wings. “Thank you for putting up with this. I wanted to ensure our subjects know of you to avoid certain … unpleasant behaviors that have been known to crop up in them when they deal with the unknown.”
“Modern Ponies aren't good with non-ponies. Or any surprises, really,” Luna stated.
“We’ve noticed,” Shawn commented.
“I believe we’ve found the best way to ensure you the freedom and privacy you would prefer,” Celestia said. “And as an added bonus, you won’t have to see me, save for under certain circumstances.”
“And that would be...?” Shawn asked.
“We plan to send you to the one location that will guarantee you don’t have to worry about any direct interference from political machinations here at the capitol, a small town called Ponyville.”
Shawn hummed for a moment before giving a small nod. “I suppose that could work, though we don’t really know much about it. For now, I assume.”
“I’ve arranged for you to meet with some of the residents in that town, so you can ask them any questions you might have about its people, where you might be able to stay, that sort of thing. You’ll also each be receiving rewards for your services to the crowns, including enough money to get you properly settled.”
“And I get the feeling that’s the second part of the ceremony.” Shawn frowned.
“The awards, yes. The meeting, however, is going to be a private one. You’re likely to have questions. A reward ceremony is hardly the forum for that kind of interview.”
“Fair enough. Shall we move on, then?”
Celestia nodded. “Just a warning to you all. What we propose in this ceremony may raise a certain amount of outrage from some quarters of the nobility, but it is also our right, and they cannot question or object to it.”
With those final words said, the group traveled swiftly through the palace corridors to the grand reception hall. Unlike the singular grand throne that the humans had seen in the show, this time it was joined by a lunar counterpart. The hall was full to the brim with representatives from every noble house great and small. The murmur that arose from the crowd as the princesses strode up the steps and took their thrones in full barding and armed left the room with an atmosphere of unease.
Luna levitated a crystal glass and a spoon next to her and tapped them lightly together a few times, creating a single high-pitched note that quickly got the attention of the room.
“Friends and subjects, thank you for coming to this occasion where we take a chance to honor these three visitors to our world who risked their own wellbeing for the defense of our nation.” Luna waited patiently for the expected polite applause.When the motion had passed, she nodded her head regally and continued. “As is the custom of this country, the crowns have seen fit to reward them with a token of our unending gratitude for their actions.” She looked to a servant and gave a slow deliberate nod.
The servant strode out a side door and emerged moments later followed by three bearers who each carried chests of varying sizes with them. The largest of the three was so great that it had to be carried on a broad Earth Pony’s back.
“Matthew, if you would step forward,” Luna said.
Matthew slowly stepped out from the wings, being careful to keep a rigid and formal bearing with his back straight and hands curled at his sides while he strode to the front of the room. He performed a sharp left face to gaze at the royal sisters, then took five steps forward and stopped at full military attention.
“Matthew, you showed great courage and skill during the attack. My Thestrals had high praise for your quick thinking and marksmanship. We award you citizenship in Equestria and this medal of distinction.” She levitated a roll of parchment that Celestia removed from one of her saddlebags to him, followed by a silver medal carved with the intricate design of two wings.
Matthew stood still as the medal was pinned to his chest. Once the princess had stepped back, he gave a crisp salute.
“In addition to these, we award you fifty thousand bits from the royal treasury to use as you wish,” she said as the first chest was opened, revealing a few loose bits and several sealed and opened sacks.
Having been spoken to by Moonshade about what would be deemed acceptable, Matthew gave a small nod of respect to the diarchs in accordance with tradition.
“If you would please step back?”
Matthew gave another crisp salute, did a sharp about face, marched ten paces to the back, and did another about face before entering into a parade rest to wait patiently for the next of his companions to emerge.
“Sir Taze, if you would step forward,” Luna called.
Taze entered with a less measured pace to Matthew, but he held his shoulders back and head high as he strode to Luna. In a practiced motion, he unsheathed his sword, flipped it handle forward, and offered it to Luna. Luna gave a light nod and pressed her hoof to the tip. When she withdrew it, Taze flipped the sword back around and sheathed it.
“Taze, you showed great ferocity in the face of overwhelming odds, and great courage in defense of others. We know feelings between you and Equestria are rocky right now, and we do hope eventually feelings may be repaired. It is to this reasoning we do not grant you citizenship until you are at a point you feel you desire it. Instead, we grant you this writ allowing you to ply your trade as a hunter, as well as this blade of our own making. We hope it will serve you well.'' Luna levitated another piece of parchment over. This one was wrapped around the sheath of a longsword. The sheath itself was black lacquered wood with metallic clips on the tip and near the top. The crossguard was a semi-circle molded around a ruby. Black leather wrapped the hilt up to a clawed pommel. What caused Taze to smirk was Luna had somehow tinted all the metal bits green. He took the blade and the parchment with as much control as he could muster, holding back a childish grin.
“We also have awarded you fifty thousand bits from the treasury, and an additional ten thousand paid for services due.” Luna winked as the second chest was opened to reveal yet more gold. “Please step away, if you would?”
Taze nodded and balanced the crossguard of his new sword on his shoulder, then strode proudly to stand by Matthew.
“Lord Shawn, if you would step forward?”
Shawn strode to the requested spot and stood in a dignified pose with his left hand holding his right behind his back.
“Lord Shawn, to you, we owe an apology. You were placed in danger far unbecoming of your station. Despite this, you faced great personal harm to protect our country and those within it. My Thestrals tell stories about you and your exploits with great enthusiasm. To you, we grant not only citizenship, but also a lordly title within Equestria and its realms. We name you Friend of Equestria and Queensbane. We also will have an embassy constructed, formed according to your own design, to act as a means of supporting and protecting those others of your world that should stumble into our domain. We award you the sum of a hundred and fifty thousand bits from the treasury and bequeath to you this weapon of whose nature you may already be aware.” Luna's horn glowed brighter and, along with several pieces of parchment, a familiar glaive, now repaired and refurbished to new condition, floated before him. “He would have approved of you having it, I feel,” she said quietly to the man.
Shawn took a moment as he reached hesitantly for the glaive. When he finally took hold of it, he gave a short bow. “Thank you,” he spoke softly.
Luna's horn glowed, and the larger chest opened. Bits spilled out, revealing a sea of gold. “Now, if you two would step forward?” Luna requested.
Confused, Taze took a few steps forward to match Shawn. Matthew followed suit.
“You three have pointed out a flaw in our defense system. The Guard is not prepared for common threats of the day, and you have expressed that you have ideas you believe would benefit our future. It is to this end that we request you accept a small group of guards in training and show us how you might shape the Equestrian Guard to be more capable in the future. This is not a command, but a royal favor that you may refuse without penalty. Should you accept, we are afraid we must say goodbye to you for a while, as such exercises will require you to be outside the reach of the capital. We would ask that you set up a barracks outside of the nearby town of Ponyville. When you feel confident enough in the training that you and your companions have introduced, it is our desire that you test them against the forces of the Everfree Forest in a campaign to reclaim that which has been left to molder since the sundering of our diarchy so very long ago. That palace holds many treasures and many secrets. However, I will repeat myself. This is merely a request made to you three by our royal persons. You need not accept it.” Luna gave a nod to Celestia for her confirmation.
Celestia followed suit with her own nod. “It is our hope that you may find all that you desire during your stay in these lands. As my sister said, you have our eternal gratitude, and we wish you the best wherever you may wish to travel in our fair realm. We will respect your decisions, whatever they may be.”
Shawn sighed internally as he realized their method of helping them escape Canterlot. He glanced between Matthew and Taze to gauge their reactions. Taze simply shrugged. Matthew gave a subtle nod. Having perceived their approval, Shawn turned back to Celestia and Luna. “Though we cannot promise results, given the difference between our species, we can attempt to, at the very least, impart some knowledge of our tactics to them.”
“Very well. We will arrange a train for you by week’s end. This will let you finish any affairs you may have in Canterlot.” Luna nodded. “You have our deepest gratitude.”
Shawn took the glaive into his right hand and placed his left over his chest once more, giving a small bow before he moved to depart. Taze kept his sword balanced on his shoulder as he followed. Finally, Matthew gave a salute of acknowledgement, did a sharp left turn, and followed the others out.
At last, the ceremony was over. Now was the time to plan.
Twilight Sparkle sat in the humans’ chambers as each looked over her in turn. With the pomp and circumstance of the rewards ceremony out of the way, it was time to coordinate, and Twilight was exceptionally strong in that particular field of expertise. However, that didn’t necessarily mean that all of her suggestions went uncontested.
“Look, I know you may not be the happiest with my friends, but the fact stands that you need some familiar faces to help you while you get settled in the town and make preparations for your move. Rarity is the only designer in Ponyville, which means at the very least, you’ll have to talk with her and do business with her on a semi-regular basis, particularly if you want to design new uniforms for any troops that are provided to you. Rainbow Dash has dreamed of flying with the Wonderbolts for years, which means she’s at least somewhat familiar with military tactics. She’s also the fastest flyer in Equestria, which will make her an asset for training new recruits to increase their speed and durability. Pinkie Pie has a knack for getting on everypony’s good side and literally has the ability to somehow defy the laws of physics and magic.” She shuddered. “Please don’t ask me for the details. I tried explaining it. It didn’t go well. Fluttershy is the kindest and gentlest person in Ponyville, and her natural ability to understand animals can help you with negotiations with any wildlife you might encounter in the forest, assuming they’re sapient enough to negotiate in the first place. And Applejack is a pillar in the community. Her family is one of the oldest in the town. An endorsement from her is almost as good as having the princesses there in person to introduce you. Plus, her family has connections with every tradespony in town, she’s a mean carpenter, and her family recipes are good enough to rival some of the best bakers in Canterlot. Sweet Apple Acres will be a big asset in providing food for your troops.”
“And Prince Blueblood has tons of money. I’m sure if I knew the nobility better, I can point out a benefit for befriending each and every one of them.” Taze crossed his arms. “My problems with your friends have nothing to do with station or resources.”
“So I’ve been told, by you and them,” Twilight noted. “I’m not saying you were unjustified to be angry at them, Taze, even if their reactions were against me, instead of you. And I’m sure you probably won’t be willing to forgive them, even if they did apologize to you right now. What I’m asking is that you give them the chance to demonstrate by their actions that they are sorry, and more importantly that they can learn from their mistakes.”
“Let me ask you something, Twilight. In a world without magic, what do you think the final element of harmony is?” he asked.
“Well, in Equestria, friendship is magic, so I suppose that means the final element for your world would have to be friendship, assuming the parallels are close enough for you not to have an entirely different set.”
“Faith, trust, respect, however you call it. What binds people together is their ability to trust in their fellows. Once trust is broken, it is the hardest thing in the world to repair. It takes seconds to destroy and a lifetime to build up again.”
“Then I suppose that’s the crux of the matter here. You may not be willing to trust them, but are you willing to trust me about what they can do and are willing to do for the sake of this project? You don’t have to forgive them right now. You don’t even have to interact with them directly if you don’t want to. But if we can’t at least partially resolve this matter, then I’m afraid productivity will be a lot slower. Not impossible to achieve, but it will have a significant impact.”
“Fine,” Taze said begrudgingly. “I’ll trust you, at least. The rest, we’ll have to see. Once bitten, twice shy, as they say.”
Twilight nodded. “That’s all we can ask for. That being said, I should probably ask, just in case. Is there anything you don’t want them saying or doing with you in particular? They don’t want to make the same mistake twice, but since we don’t know your customs, it’s difficult to know for sure what is and isn’t acceptable to you in circumstances like these.”
“For now, let's establish the basics. We aren't friends. We aren't on that familiarity level. I’m not beholden to impress or do anything for them. If we do something business related, it is a business relationship. Basically, I won’t be looped into obligations that don’t involve me, okay?”
Twilight nodded. “I think I can get them to work with that. Rarity, at the very least, is used to that kind of relationship. There’s just one thing. Pinkie Pie always throws a party for newcomers. You may not see her as a friend, but she’ll probably still want to throw one for the three of you to welcome you to town, regardless. That, and the fact that the land is getting a new noble neighbor will probably mean that Mayor Mare will be joining in to welcome you three.”
“That's fine. Just no surprise parties. I’ve had enough surprises to last a lifetime already.”
“I’ll make sure to let her know. I can even get her to Pinkie Promise, if you want.”
“No. That's fine,” Taze said. “Trust, remember?”
Twilight smiled. “I’m sure she’ll appreciate that.” She turned her attention back to the blackboard and raised an eraser in her magic to clear it. “Now that we’ve got that out of the way, how about we move on to statistics and references?” Three stacks of parchment were levitated into each of the humans’ laps. “I’ve compiled all the data I could get from the archives and my personal knowledge of Ponyville. I’m not sure what other resources the princesses may be planning to provide for you, if any, though.”
Matthew smiled as he took his copy. “It’s in ENGLISH!” He cheered and began to read the information in depth.
“Actually, it’s in Equish, but the amulets are able to translate the intent behind the words into your equivalent,” Twilight Clarified. “Now, if you’ll open to page sixteen, I figure the best place to begin will be with raw resources.”
When twilight turned, Taze retrieved a book from his pocket and hid it by fanning the sheets in his fingers, as though he were examining multiple sheets at once.
Shawn sighed as he looked over the papers and settled in for a long presentation.
The mausoleum, for that was the closest equivalent for the massive cave system in which the humans and soldiers had gathered, was spacious and lined with effigy after effigy carved in stunning detail. The closed eyes of the warriors on the stone showed them in peaceful repose, having earned their rest. The chambers were lit with a number of enchanted crystals, and the long line of bearers and attendants were accompanied by lanterns that poured silver light to guide their way along the path. Although rank and favor may have held sway beyond these walls, death treated all equally. And so those who were laid to rest were all truly equal. On this, the sisters had both been firm. Even before Princess Luna’s return, Celestia had not yielded on this point. All who served in the guard and died in the line of duty would be treated with the same dignity.
Instead of headstones, great stone slabs above the effigies’ heads were chiselled with the soldier’s name, rank, birth and death dates, and cause of death. The gravediggers met them respectfully and guided them through the cavern to the stone coffins that had been dug from the mountain cave itself, awaiting the last rites that would send these warriors to their final rest and the great beyond that awaited them. Rather than the typical torc and crown, Luna attended in her full barding, standing at the head to lead the procession and oversee the deliverance of the bodies. Shawn hovered in the shadows between the lights, a part of the procession, but not truly a part of the culture behind it. He knew the reason he had come, as did those others who had walked the path with him. He would give them the time to say their farewells. And then, when the time was right, he would say his. For now, he waited and listened as Luna addressed her subjects.
“A life given in defense of the tribe is a life well lived,” Luna began, looking across the Thestrals gathered to say goodbye. “We live by the sword and we die by the sword in order that the foals and the elderly may not lack a sword when the danger of the night comes for them. We gather here today to honor those who fell living their life well. We send their spirits onward into the glade of everglow, that they may bask in eternal moonlight forever. We send them to greet ancestors and to feast with them. We send them where no hunt ever fails, and where the stories are told by the fire. We send them this way, knowing their stories will be told and remembered until the end of time itself. We send them forward to make a place for us someday, fallen but not forgotten under the light of the moon, hidden from the harshness of the sun. Sleep well, brothers and sisters, and dream good dreams.” Luna finished with a bow of her head. She indicated her time at the podium was done, and the collective Thestrals split off to honor those who meant most to them.
Shawn stood watching over as everyone tended to their farewells. He didn’t have much he could say, and he felt that it wouldn’t have been right of him in the first place. So, he waited for everyone to have their final regards. And when it was just him, then he would act.
Once everyone cleared out, he sighed softly and moved to the gravestone meant for Crescent. The effigy truly was lifelike. The carvers had even gotten that mischievous curve of his lips as he smiled. Shawn knelt in front of the stone and ran his fingers briefly over the sculpture. “Though I didn’t know you too well, you still offered me equal grounds.”
He frowned as he reached to his waist, pulling out the dagger he had used during the invasion. “Though it may be disrespectful to many, there is only one thing I could leave you that would hold any meaning from me,” he remarked. Moving to the side of the stone, he flipped the dagger in his grip and did the task he set out to do.
Though it took several minutes, he finally was able to see the clear addition he had carved by his own hand.
89
He exhaled before looking to the dagger once more. After a few seconds, he flipped the knife in his grip and stabbed it into the floor, embedding it slightly into the stone next to the grave. While it didn’t sink in much, it was enough to stay upright on its own. “I just wish I could have done more,” he spoke softly as he stood up. “Usque in occursum nobis.”
“You gave up your knife,” Luna commented as she approached from behind.
Shawn looked over his shoulder to Luna before turning his attention back. “Yeah, but, that’s all right.”
“He would have been honored,” she noted as she approached to stand next to him.
Shawn hummed questioningly as he looked at the mare.
“You know, I have to wonder how you broke it off.” She levitated a leather sheath in front of him, a small guard tinted dark blue pressed seamlessly against the leather. The short handle was wrapped in dark leather with a small pommel at the end shaped like a spike.
Shawn took a moment before reaching out and taking hold of the sheath. After looking it over, he finally pulled out the blade. It had been treated and sharpened, and metal had been used to reinforce certain points, but the black jagged horn was clearly identifiable above the guard. The length was decent, and it held a lethal curve to it. It almost seemed to drink in what little light there was nearby.
“Do be sure to return it to her if you see her again,” Luna said grimly. “With my royal regards.”
“That much, I can promise.” Shawn nodded as he sheathed the blade once more and attached the sheath to the right side of his belt.
“You know, I’ve lived a very, very long time. And this part? It never gets easier for me.” Luna sighed. “It was the part my father hated the most.”
“I’d believe it.” Shawn nodded. “The concept alone of longevity, if not immortality, is … lonely, and sorrowful.”
“It’s the concept of saying goodbye that makes it such.” Luna nodded. “Crescent was a good soldier.”
Shawn nodded his agreement. “Good intentions, and good intuition. He was the one that gave me the warning. Had he not, I don’t know how things might have changed.”
“Normally, these areas are closed to the public after the funeral rites are finished, but you are not the public.” She gave a small grin. “The mortuary guards have been instructed that you come and go as you please.”
“Thank you.” Shawn gave a low nod. “Though … it’ll be some time before I may come here again.”
“That's understandable, considering what's on the horizon for you. I just wanted you to know it’s always open,” she said, looking around. “Sometimes, I come down here just to hear them arguing again.” She shook her head. “But that's for another time. Unfortunately, I have other duties to attend to. Thank you for coming to this.”
“And thank you for allowing it. I suppose I have work ahead of me as well. Though I don’t know how well it will do, I’ll do my best to keep that forward momentum, even at a cost to myself.” Then he sighed.
Luna raised an eyebrow at the last line. “Just so,” she said in a questioning tone. “Fare well, Lord Shawn.” And with a bow of her head, she melted into the shadows.
Shawn looked to the spot that Luna had vanished from one last time before moving toward the exit himself. Looking to his hand, he nodded resolutely. “No matter the cost, I won’t let it happen again.”
The Gryphonian embassy was a vast structure built into the side of the mountain opposite Canterlot. As a nod toward their Pony neighbors, the grounds outside the compound had been carefully leveled and tended with expert care to cultivate a sophisticated garden that offset the stark military garb the Gryphon guards wore. The rock faces had been carefully carved with wide openings at multiple high elevations to allow entry into the structure from the air. Each of these portals was manned by no less than two warriors, who hovered in wait to check any visitors that sought entry. Great pillars and artful renditions of mighty Gryphons bearing crowns and armor were flanked by smaller carvings and statues of soldiers that saluted their kings. The structure was designed to face to the east, so that it might greet the morning proudly as it stared back toward its native soil beyond the horizon. For those who chose to walk the ground, an intimidating set of stout wooden doors was flanked by a sturdy stone wall designed to obscure the view of any illicit figures that might seek to case the site. As a nod to the princesses and their sovereignty, however, there were no larger weapons such as ballistae or canons employed for their defense.
The flash of golden light was all the herald the compound required to know that they had visitors. And as the Gryphons rose in force, they leveled what appeared to be some form of compound bows from their positions in the air. The commanding officer eyed the solar princess and her sister, along with the trio of beings that stood between them.
“Princesses,” he greeted coolly. “To what do we owe the pleasure of your presence at our walls?”
“We’ve come to escort our guests to your compound at Gorek’s request,” Celestia returned. Her smile was soft, but her eyes were flinty. “He did send that message requesting an audience, did he not?”
The commanding officer glanced between the escort, then rested his gaze on the humans. “They will have to be searched. I hope that won’t be a problem,” he said pointedly as he lowered his weapon and gazed intently at the creatures. The rest of the guards still kept their arrows trained on their targets.
“Given the location, that’s fair enough,” Shawn replied simply.
Matthew shrugged. “Typical procedure. It’s not like we have anything to hide, anyway.”
“Just get it over with.” Taze shrugged.
Certain of the warriors alighted while the remainder kept their distance. The officer and his fellows were courteous but thorough. When the search was completed, the officer nodded. “We will have to ask you to remove your weapons for the duration of your visit. They will be returned to you when your business here is concluded.”
“We trust you will take good care of them, Captain,” Celestia began. “Both their weapons and our guests.”
“Barring an insult to our honor, there is no need to fear reprisal, Princess. Rest assured, they will be treated well as our guests, even as they have been treated under your care.” A hint of a smirk pulled at his lips. “Perhaps even better.”
“I’d be careful with your tongue.” Luna's eyes turned cold as her gaze fell on the guard. “Or I may show you what happens when you insult our honor.”
“Calm yourself, Princess Luna. I’m not paid to pick a fight. Never once did I say that you had mistreated them.” He gestured toward the gates. “Come. Chief Ambassador Gorek is waiting to meet you.” He raised his head and gave a subtle nod to the warriors. A small detachment flew behind the wall, and the doors slowly creaked open. “I trust you have given them the means to summon a return escort when their business is concluded?”
“Yes. Rest assured, you need not fear incurring any losses at our hooves,” Celestia returned with equal aplomb. “We hope that Gorek finds this meeting productive.”
The captain nodded and motioned toward the doors. “If you would be so kind as to follow me.” He offered a stiff bow to the princesses and their guards. “Until we meet again, Princesses.”
True to the warning, the humans had to surrender their weapons to be checked. When that had been completed, they were swiftly escorted to the interior of the mountain and through a series of passages until they finally reached an ornately carved stone door. A heavy knock soon heralded their arrival, and a gruff voice called for their entry.
The office they beheld was a far cry from the cold stone exterior in the passageways. The room was laden with all manner of finery. Ornate rugs, carefully dyed and designed, had been laid over the hard floors while rich stained wooden bookshelves rose along the walls, each bearing a number of volumes written in Gryphic runes. A number of plinths interspersed between the units, each bearing a weapon or piece of armor labeled with placards that were also engraved in their unique language. A pair of heavy war axes sat on display in unique holders just behind the largest redwood desk the humans had ever seen. The carvings had been expertly sculpted from pure gold to accentuate the red and bring a sense of vibrancy as well as wealth to the occupant.
The Gryphon who sat at that surface was a blend of falcon and lion. His gaze was piercing as he stared with those avian eyes. “Gentlemen,” he greeted and motioned to three large chairs that had been provided. “Please, make yourselves comfortable.” He glanced at the officer who had escorted them. “Thank you for your assistance, Captain. You are dismissed. Please wait for us outside the door.”
The soldier saluted and marched out the portal before closing it behind him.
“I’m afraid that I must apologize for the inconvenience of size. There are a number of races and species that exist in our world, but we have encountered none like yours before.”
“It’s fine,” Taze said. “You have a very nice office.”
The Gryphon shrugged his wings. “The perks of representing the Empire. I technically represent six separate factions within it, if you really want to analyze it. And all of them want favors from me. Only one has the authority to command me, though.”
Matthew frowned. “I thought that an empire only had one ruler.”
“Perhaps in the empires of your world. Gryphonia is a little different, however.” Gorek chuckled. “Our empire is ruled by a divine monarch appointed by the Winds and cemented in his rule through respect earned by right of combat. In case you hadn’t guessed already, we are a rather warlike race.” His beak curved in a smile. “Beneath this emperor are five kings from royal bloodlines whose sworn duty is to serve the emperor and protect the lands over which they hold stewardship. The empire is vast. It requires a certain structure of authority to rule properly and maintain order.”
“And I’m guessing each king has several lords under him?” Taze asked with a raised eyebrow.
“That depends on what you consider a lord. We do not have quite the same level of aristocracy that your hosts adhere to. Rather than lesser lords and ladies, we have a system of clans who serve under the kings. Those who have proven themselves in battle and brought glory to their clan are rewarded accordingly by the kings. And if the deeds are great enough, by the emperor himself. Much like your noble houses, however, the clan lord, or head of the house if you prefer, is the one with the authority to preside over the clan and the lands which have been granted to them. And they are subject to a certain extent to their kings. However, if they have a problem, there are ways to settle the disputes through honorable combat. It must be from one of similar standing or with significant accolades to equate to the standing of the one being challenged to hold merit. But assuming one is successful in this attempt, one could rise in power and lay claim to the loser’s lands or whatever possessions may have been included in the terms of the duel.”
“Brutal, but effective.” Taze nodded. “We have a few cultures who did similar things in our world.”
“I wondered whether that might not have been the case. Tell me, are there other species on your world that you trade with? Given that you have mentioned other cultures, one can easily deduce that you must have more than one nation, and thus more than one government.”
“In our world, we are the only species we are aware of to have achieved sapience, and we’d know if another existed.” Taze shrugged.
“I see.” He turned his attention to Shawn. “And how would you describe the interactions between your species? I am curious to learn of your customs.”
“If you mean by nation to nation, it varies depending on which one, as each holds massively different cultures to one another.” Shawn gave a faint shrug. “In general, it’s best to show respect to one another, even if that respect is backed by many weapons.”
Gorek laughed. “That is a stance I can relate to well. It feels almost comforting to know that such philosophies exist even in worlds beyond our own. Judging by the accolades we have heard of your deeds, I believe it is safe to assume that whatever nation or culture you may come from in your world bears such backing.”
“Indeed. But, that is something for another discussion,” Shawn replied with a faint smile. “Our time is sadly limited.”
“After only just arriving?” Gorek chuckled. “How novel. Very well, then. I suppose it’s only fair that we set certain boundaries in our discussions for getting to know one another. That way, we might be able to help increase some of this limited time.”
“Certainly.” Shawn nodded. “In that case, let us begin.”
The room that the humans had called their temporary home was now practically empty. Their personal belongings, old and new, had been carefully packed in luggage cases to be transported to the train for their long trip. Mutatio kept his supply of love crystals in a pair of saddle bags that had been strapped around his torso. He’d assumed the shape of a Mule, a species that, strangely enough, seemed to be among the most unnoticed of the many tribes in the kingdom.
“So Mules really don’t get noticed at all?” Matthew asked incredulously.
“Not so much they don’t get noticed as most Ponies don’t think about them until they say something that could be taken as insulting toward them,” Moonshade said.
“Hence the, ‘no offense,’ that we’ve heard from time to time in our outings?”
Moonshade nodded. “Ponies consider mules close enough to the three tribes that insulting them is in bad taste. This courtesy doesn’t extend to Thestrals or Zebras, mind you.”
“Are there any other tribes you haven’t told us about yet?” Matthew asked. “I’m going to guess that if you have Mules, you must have Donkeys, too, right?”
“Oh, Ponies only consider Unicorns, Earth Ponies, and Pegasi to be tribes. We Thestrals are barely considered equines half the time, and the less said about Zebras, the better.”
“But aren’t you all equines, anyway?” Matthew asked as he cocked his head in confusion.
“You’d think, but Ponies are quite frankly xenaphobic on a fundamental level.” Moonshade shrugged.
“The way you Thestrals speak, sounds like you take that kinda personally,” Taze noted.
“Wouldn’t you?” Moonshade asked.
“From a military standpoint and a strategic one, after everything that the Changelings did, I suppose that they’ll have to start noticing and acknowledging these others more now. Otherwise, Chrysalis will just do the same thing all over again. It’s a pretty gaping hole, in my opinion,” Matthew said.
“Unfortunately, Ponies are slow to change.” Moonshade shrugged.
The journey to the train station was a large affair as citizens lined the streets to catch a glimpse of the newest Friends of Equestria. The loud cry of the steam engine’s whistle helped to calm Matthew as thoughts of the model and type of propulsion helped to shove out any anxieties that might rise from the sheer number of watchers. A detachment of Earth Pony and Unicorn guards assisted with carrying the many chests that contained the humans’ gifts and rewards, including the vast store of treasure that would help provide their housing and assist them in achieving their other necessities.
Along with the escort, a large influx of Ponies in varying states of dress and armor stood in organized lines. Were it not for their knowledge of the mission ahead, the humans might well have considered them to be prisoners.
“Well, this is comfortable,” Taze said sarcastically.
“It’s work.” Shawn sighed as he looked through a series of documents in his hands. “But, we’ll be out of here soon enough.”
“At least we’ll have a chance to chart out a course for how to deal with all of these troops,” Matthew said. “And it’s not like we’ll be entirely alone. I’m sure the princesses will allow us to have at least a few other experienced hands to help.”
“We have some individuals of note that will be assisting, yes,” Shawn commented as he flipped to a different page. “Including two smiths, for now. A third will be arriving at a later day.”
“Great. So we’re going to have people around to tell us what we’re doing wrong.” Taze chuckled.
“Well, we could always look at it from the half full perspective and end up showing them up after the criticism,” Matthew noted.
Shawn hummed. “We’ll see how things go.”
“Probably be best if we split them up into three smaller groups, just to make life easier,” Taze noted.
“We’ll look into that when we have the full unit. Right now, we’re only looking at the first batch being sent our way.” Shawn sighed. “Twenty currently, not counting the additional assistance, being roughly five individuals, and our two smiths.”
“Given the manpower we have at the moment, that’s probably a good thing,” Matthew said. “It’ll make it a lot easier to keep them under control and train for leadership when the next batch of soldiers comes.”
“We’re going to have to really think about this moving into the Everfree. Probably our best bet would be in the spring, given the size of the group we’re trying to move,” Taze noted.
“That is the plan.” Shawn nodded. “Moving into uncertain territory in late fall to winter alone would overly complicate things.”
“It would definitely be difficult to get to the castle, let alone repair it in those conditions, especially if we can’t control the weather there,” Matthew agreed. Then he frowned. “Is it just me or does it look like we’re getting the stink eye over there?” he asked as he looked toward the recruits.
“We were given the dropouts,” Shawn remarked softly with a sigh. “Handful of nobles, new recruits, and miscellaneous units.”
“Think we should put our feet down, then, show them we mean business?”
“You're the military one,” Taze said. “Show us what you’ve got.”
Matthew frowned and stroked his chin for a time as he pondered the situation, then turned to face Moonshade. “Do we have a meal planned for the new arrivals when we get to Ponyville?”
“Did we get rations?” Taze asked.
Matthew smirked. “I’m guessing you’re thinking what I’m thinking.” He turned back to their main guard. “Well, Moonshade?”
“Apparently the town is going to be taking care of it,” Moonshade answered.
“And the rations? Do they each have some?”
“I imagine they were provided with them when they got their basic gear. Beyond that, we’ll probably have to arrange something,” Moonshade noted.
Matthew nodded. “Good. In that case, Taze, would you care to join me to inspect our new recruits? I’m sure they must be anxious to meet us.” He winked deviously at his friend.
“You talk. I'll just observe.” Taze said before the two advanced on the group.
“Attention!” Matthew barked as he gazed over the troops. Only a few of the Ponies actually responded. The rest either murmured among themselves or glared. Matthew returned the stares with a flinty gaze of his own. “Did I mumble, cadets?”
“I’m not a cadet,” one of the colts retorted.
Matthew glared at him. “Well, you are now, soldier. And until you learn some proper respect, I’ll have to keep reminding you of that fact.” He gazed over all the cadets. “Let me make one thing clear. We outrank you. You were put into our care for a reason. Your noble rank doesn’t matter here. Your previous posts don’t matter here. I don’t care what your breeding is or how long you’ve been a part of the Guard. If you expect respect from us, then you’d better earn it. And until you stop acting like a bunch of spoiled brats, we’re going to treat each and every one of you like one, starting with your first military exercise.” He straightened. “Congratulations, cadets. You get to learn the wonders of rationing. For the next twenty-four hours, you are to subsist on the ration kit that you received before this transfer.”
The uproar that rose from that announcement sounded as if it had come from a hundred troops, rather than the twenty that had gathered there.
“Do you want me to double that, soldiers?” Matthew bellowed over the group.
“Like you would,” another colt retorted.
Matthew lowered to his knees and whispered in the cadet’s ear. “Let me make one thing very painfully clear, cadet. We humans have made war for millennia. We know strategies and skills that would make your head spin. And much like the Gryphons, we also eat meat. We’re not afraid to follow any strategy if it will ensure the best odds for our survival. And while we may not kill you or your fellows in this training, I can guarantee that if that attitude is kept up, you will wish that we had. And if you’re a noble, here’s a newsflash. Mommy and Daddy aren’t going to be able to bail you out of this.” He rose and patted the colt’s cheek. To the cadet’s credit, the only sign of fear that he showed was his coat standing on end. “I’m glad we had this talk.” Then Matthew gazed over the rest of the cadets. “We’ll see you all at Ponyville, cadets. Now fall out and settle in. We’ve got a long ride ahead of us, and you have some meal planning to do.”
With that said, he turned and strode back toward Shawn, Moonshade, and Mutatio while the guards that were acting as escort herded the cadets into their cart. “I hate it when they’re smart Alecs,” he grumbled. “That always brings out the worst in me.”
“They’re young, and they believe they know everything.” Taze chuckled.
“Here’s hoping they won’t all be like that,” Matthew said. “We need leaders, not snark.”
“It’ll take time.” Shawn sighed. “But, we’ll do what we can.”
“All aboard!” the conductor shouted over the platform.
“I suppose that’s our cue,” Matthew said as he smiled at his friends. “Ready to meet some new Ponies?”
“From one location to another,” Shawn replied, pulling his papers together neatly.
“At least we’re all still here,” Taze noted. “Could be a lot worse.”
As the boarding continued, a breathless mare bolted toward the conductor with a stallion and very familiar brown colt trailing behind. Button Mash panted as the stallion patted him consolingly on the back with an apologetic smile.
“Excuse me,” the mare began. “Sir, we need to purchase some emergency tickets. My son isn’t allowed to travel long distances on hoof right now, and my husband simply must be at work by tomorrow morning. We don’t need a seat. We just need to be allowed to board.”
The stallion shook his head. “I’m sorry, Ma’am, we’re full up. This here’s a designated military transport. We’re not allowed to let civilians on board.”
“But we need to get home.”
“So do a lot of the other folks who came for the wedding. Doesn’t change the fact the schedule’s been altered by royal decree. I’m afraid you’ll have to wait for the next train tomorrow. It’s the best I can do.”
“What's going on here?” Taze approached the conductor quickly.
Button Mash’s face lit up at the sight of the human. “Taze!” he greeted and ran forward. He stumbled partway in his advance and had to be caught by the human to prevent a faceplant. Button chuckled awkwardly. “Thanks for that.”
The conductor looked from the colt to the human, then to the parents. “Policy says I can’t let civilians aboard this transport, Sir.”
“So, what you're saying is that if these two were considered part of the royal party departing for Ponyville today, they’d be allowed to board?”
“Certainly, Sir.”
“Then what seems to be the problem? Get these good people boarded,” Taze said.
“Sir?” the conductor asked in confusion.
“This is Button Mash, my personal friend and guide to Ponyville and the surrounding area. Was his name not on the list?” Taze asked in mock confusion.
“No, Sir, I’m afraid it wasn’t.” The conductor frowned at the colt, then his parents as he struggled to process what Taze had just said. “The princesses appointed a foal to be your guide?”
“No, I appointed him. You may not remember, but kids often know the fastest routes to anywhere.” Taze smirked.
“I’m … not sure if I’m authorized for this, but the train needs to depart. I … guess you three are free to join their party?” he said to the Ponies.
“Come on, you two. Try not to get separated again.” Taze shot Button’s mother a quick wink.
A flummoxed conductor watched the four depart for the royal car and the other two humans that stood by its doors.
“Thank you for that.” The mare’s eyes shone with gratitude as Taze held open the door for them.
Matthew grinned. “Well, there’s a friendly face. Welcome aboard, Button Mash.”
Button Mash beamed giddily. “I can’t believe I’m gonna ride in the royal carriage!”
“Honestly kinda surprised Celestia would inconvenience so many with this.” Taze shrugged.
“Maybe it has to do with a national security policy,” Matthew suggested as he followed the parents on board.
“Still seems poorly thought out.” Taze shrugged.
“You coming, Shawn?” Matthew asked.
“Nah. I figured I’d just stay here,” Shawn replied with a faint grin before joining the group. A few minutes later, the train had started, and the heroes of Canterlot, along with their guests, were on their way to Ponyville.
Button Mash smiled as he looked up at Taze from his cushion on the cart. “I never knew that there were so many games you could play where you come from! Do you think we can make them that fast one day?”
“I’m sure you guys will get it eventually.” Taze laughed. “Though it may take a while. It took us a long time to move from arcades to home consoles.”
“So, as your personal friend and guide to Ponyville, did you have any questions you wanted to ask me before we begin the tour?”
“You're actually going through with that?” Taze laughed. “I was just trying to get you guys on the train.”
“Yeah, but you’re right.” Button winked. “I know a lot about Ponyville. Sweetie Belle used to drag me all over the place with the rest of the Cutie Mark Crusaders.”
“Oh. Sweetie Belle your girlfriend?” Taze chuckled.
Button Mash cocked his head in confusion. “What’s a girlfriend?”
“He means a special somepony, dear, like me and your father,” Mrs. Mash explained.
“What? Ewww!” Button Mash stuck out his tongue. “I don’t like her that way.”
Taze looked to Button’s mother with a questioning smile.
The mare returned the smile with one of her own as they passed that silent knowing communication that adults always seem to be able to use in moments such as this.
The cart lurched forward as the brakes engaged and the train began to screech.
“We’re almost home,” Button Mash said. “Do you have somewhere to stay yet?”
“Is there an inn in town?” Taze asked.
“We’ve got a place,” Shawn spoke up as he looked through his papers. “The Punch Bowl Inn, run by Berry Punch.”
“Oh, you’ll be in good hooves, then,” Mrs. Mash said. “Berry’s a gruff sort on the outside, but she’s a sweetheart on the inside.” She chuckled. “Just watch out for her drinks.”
“That bad?” Matthew asked.
“One cup of a new brew she made, and I keeled over,” Button’s father said, then chuckled. “That was a nasty headache in the morning, let me tell you.”
“Guessing she samples what she sells?” Taze asked.
“How else would you know if it’s good?”
“This should be fun.” Taze chuckled.
At last, the train came to a full stop, and the doors came open. As the Button family rose to their hooves, the mare smiled appreciatively to Taze once more. “You’re welcome under our roof any time, Sir Taze. Thank you for everything you and your friends have done.”
“Ma’am, you have a fine son, and you should be very proud of him. Just keep up the good work, okay?” Taze asked.
The mare smirked. “Consider it done. Oh, and the name’s Joy Stick. Please, call me Joy.”
“Only if you return the favor and just call me Taze,” Taze returned.
“Are you really expecting me to let you play on easy mode, Sir Taze?” Joy asked mischievously. “Join us for a family game night. Then we’ll see.”
“Very well then, Mrs.Stick.” Taze gave a short bow and a grin. “I look forward to the challenge.”
“I’ll stop by tomorrow after school to give you the tour!” Button Mash promised.
“I’ll make sure to keep an eye out for you.” Taze gave him a wink and flicked a bit in an arc toward Button Mash.
Taze could almost hear the sound effects going off as Button clasped the coin and his eyes lit up. Then the family trotted off the train, leaving Button to wave his last goodbye as they strode onto the platform and out of sight.
“Taze, I think you’ve made a friend for life,” Matthew said with a smile.
“Good.” Taze chuckled. “Because god knows we have enough enemies.”
“Indeed.” Shawn chuckled. “All right, now on to the fun part…” He turned toward the other end of the train platform, where the Guard was disembarking or unloading the cargo meant for the unit. “Taze, Matthew, would you both mind dealing with the Guard while I look for our smiths?”
“Sure. Go ahead,” Taze said.
Matthew smiled. “We’ll meet up with you later.” As he stepped out onto the platform, he took a deep breath and sighed contentedly. “I never thought I’d be able to see this kind of setting and live it. No hucksters, no angles, just plain honest everyday folk living from day to day and looking out for one another. Dad would have loved to see this.” He sighed and blinked rapidly to force the tears back before they could have a chance to fall. After all, he had to keep up a firm face for the cadets.
“Hey, don’t think about it. Make yourself busy. It will help,” Taze offered comfortingly as he noticed his friend's expression.
Matthew nodded. “Right. We still have some recruits to whip into shape, don’t we?” A wry smile pulled at his lips. “I took the turn bringing them to task in Canterlot. I’d say it’s your turn now, wouldn’t you?”
“Not sure I'd know where to start,” Taze admitted as they walked.
“Probably giving them instructions about where they’ll be camping. Maybe remind them of the fact that it’s thanks to the Ponies in the town that they actually have a place to sleep, so any nobles can know that this isn’t Canterlot anymore, and they’re here to serve, not be served.” He shrugged. “You’ll have to deal with leading them eventually, anyway, so you might as well start now.”
The recruits stood near their cart on the platform with surly expressions on their faces. Their packs had been laid on their backs again, and they looked almost like a mountain climber ready to spend the night by a cliff. Four Lunar guards eyed them carefully to ensure no funny business would start. Moonshade looked from the humans to the recruits, then back again as she kept her peace. This was the humans’ command, after all, and she wanted to see just how they would lead.
“Attention, all of you,” Taze projected.
At the very least, this time, they all focused on the humans, though discontent still roiled beneath the faces of those who had less composure than their fellows.
“Okay, so let's start off with the basics,” Taze said. “As of this moment, lineage doesn’t matter, class doesn’t matter. The only thing that matters is how hard you work. I don’t care who your father is or who you’re descended from. You are all equally low on the totem pole. Let me elaborate for you, for those who aren’t familiar with the concept. The totem pole starts with you. Then, at ground level, we have the citizens of this fair town. Then above that, we have Captain Moonshade over here. After her is me and Matthew on the same level. Above us lies Lord Shawn. And after him lies the princesses. That is the only chain of command that matters until you are told otherwise by someone directly mentioned in the totem pole. If you did not hear said impotent family member who you planned to hide behind, that is because they do not matter. Are there any questions about this?”
Nopony raised their hooves or spoke out.
“Now, I have been informed that some of you were in the reserve because your parents couldn’t buy you a rank and didn’t want you to see actual danger. Some of you are more lowly stock who angered the wrong noble and, since they couldn’t have you washed out, they had you moved here. With the exception of a few extreme cases, this no longer applies. Your lives are now equally worthless and equally valuable. If someone writes home to mommy and your parents manage to get you out of our care, it will be with a dishonorable discharge, not a convenient excuse. So you all had better start getting along. You will be waking up early to train your bodies. You will spend specific times training your minds. We’ve been given you washouts, and we will turn you into the true defenders of Equestria. Do I make myself clear?”
The murmur that followed was less than exuberant.
A loud deep clap reverberated through the air, followed by a mild vibration and the distinctive spreading of cracks from the source of the disturbance. They were small, but they were noticeable. When those present on the platform tracked the source of the noise, they found Shawn facing away from them. “I’m sorry,” he started, slowly turning his head in the direction of the cadets. “For a moment there, I thought I just drowned you out with a stomp of my boot. Let’s try that again. Are, we, clear?” he projected his voice at the end, ensuring it rang clearly through the air to his intended targets’ ears.
The Ponies’ eyes were wide as a fearful, “Yes, Sir!” reverberated back.
“Good. Now, do not make that mistake again,” Shawn ended as he turned back toward the direction of the smiths and continued on his way.
“Now you're going to be shown where your going to set up your tents. Once we have everything sorted out, we’ll be dividing you into groups, and one of these groups will be helping construct the barracks at all times in shifts. These are good Ponies, and they’ve kindly lent us their land and aid, so you will make sure to treat them with respect. For now, follow Moonshade. She’ll lead you to where you’ll be bunking. She will also inform the Ponies that planned to cater your dinner that you won’t be able to partake tonight.”
Taze turned to Moonshade and gave her a nod. She returned the gesture before turning to the group and shouting orders. In less than a minute, they were ready to move out, leaving the humans ready and able to attend to their other responsibility. Mutatio approached slowly and timidly from behind. “Must you always shout when speaking to your drones?” He shuddered. “I find it … unpleasant to hear.”
Matthew chuckled and shook his head ruefully. “Sadly, in the military, it’s often expected. We don’t have hive connections. That means we need other ways to get the attention of the people we want to listen to us. Shouting is often one of the faster ways, so it is employed often in the military. At least in basic training.” He frowned. “Are you all right, Mutatio? You’re not feeling too hungry, I hope.”
“My hunger is sated,” Mutatio assured. “It is my hope that the anxiety will pass as I get to know these other Ponies. They … will not also shout, will they?”
Matthew smiled as he patted the Changeling on the shoulder consolingly. “Not nearly so often,” he promised.
“Good. So what do we do now?”
“Let’s go look at our hotel,” Taze suggested. “Once we get our things delivered, we can see about checking up on the campsite.”
Matthew smiled. “Sounds like a plan.”
Meanwhile, Shawn had finally found the smiths near the rear of the train unloading their personal cargo. Thankfully, due to the report he read over, he knew exactly who would be coming with.
“When I getta ‘old of those shite for brains, I’m gonna tear ’em a new one,” Storm Hammer’s voice carried through the hustle and bustle. “They sent the wrong coal!”
“Which variant did they send?” Shawn questioned as he walked over towards Storm Hammer.
“Lignite!” Storm hammer growled. “Bloody ‘ell am I supposed to do with this?”
Shawn frowned. “Given that we’re working with steel on top of other things, that’s not going to reach the temperature needed. You’d need bituminous coal at least, if you’re not using other magic-based properties for increasing the temperature,” he hummed in thought.
“We can always send them a request for some sea-coal later.” Steel Weaver shrugged as he approached Storm Hammer. “Not like we’re getting those forges roarin’ within the next week.”
“They have to have a local forge or something we can use, right? I’m not putting work off that long.”
Shawn pulled out his report once again. “Yeah,” he flipped through some pages. “It looks like it’s just a little tool repair shop, but the owner, Brass Tacks, has agreed to open his workshop to our group.”
“Well, thank Celestia's flaming arse for that,” Storm Hammer said.
“Agreed,” Steel Weaver chuckled. “I’m just waitin’ on those forges in the old castle grounds. Can you imagine it, lass? A forge of the old capital, lying dormant for a thousand years.”
“And no snotty nobles demanding fancy wall ’angers and ’ip decorations.” Storm hammer smirked.
“Oh, lass, I thought you enjoyed the complicated works.” Steel Weaver chuckled.
“Yes, when ponies are going to be using them, not just ‘anging around to look pretty.” Storm hammer said. “There's a difference.”
“That there is,” Steel Weaver agreed as he looked at Shawn. “So, on to a different topic for you, do we have a timetable for how long we’ll be here?”
Shawn shook his head. “There’s too many variables that can change things. Right now, we were also tasked with making an outpost for Ponyville, that way the town can have an actual guard for after we leave.”
“If we’re here long enough, are we going to set up shop for ourselves?”
“Probably, but it all depends on how long we’re here.” Shawn shrugged. “If we’re here long enough, I can send a request up.”
“We know we’re here till at least spring,” Storm Hammer commented. “No point in trying anything in the winter.”
“Indeed,” Shawn nodded. “We’ll see how it all goes, until then, we should get going. The unit should be moving towards the site we’re using. Everything unloaded from the train?”
“Everything except the gods damned coal we need,” Storm Hammer growled. “Useless, all of em.”
“I’ll send the order up with the first report,” Shawn replied. “I know it’s important. So don’t worry. I’ll make sure of it.”
“Well then, let's go see what we can do,” Storm Hammer said. “Least we’re not trapped camping out like the troops.”
“Staying in the same inn, yeah?” Shawn asked as he put his report away.
Storm Hammer nodded. “Me and ‘im are. The apprentices are less fortunate, of course.”
“Well, they’ve got to start somewhere, I suppose.” Shawn shrugged as he turned. “Let’s get to it, then.”
She nodded. “Yes. Let's.”
The fields outside the town were long and sprawling with a fence on either side of the road to ensure that travelers could see the way. The long grass was cool and the breeze blowing over the surface peaceful. A large patch of land had been carefully marked in four rows of five to ensure equal distribution and uniformity between the tents. The recruits were already pulling open their packs to claim their patches of land. The cadets eyed Shawn warily as they began hammering their spikes into the turf.
“Hello, Lord Shawn,” Moonshade spoke as she approached. “As you can see, the encampment is coming along well.”
“Looks like it. While the others are checking on the inn, I figured I would come here to ensure everything stays on track,” Shawn replied as the two began walking the grounds together.
“Well, things are. They're not happy, but I think they're not brave enough to try anything yet,” she noted.
“Good. This isn’t a daycare. We aren’t here to keep them happy. If they want to try something, we respond appropriately.”
Moonshade nodded. “I think some of them have figured that out. The others will take time.”
“A sad truth.” Shawn shrugged. “But, one we’ll manage.”
As the group continued their work, one black Earth Pony with a gray mane and tail passed through the rows, giving pointers to those who were struggling, and even going so far as to demonstrate proper technique before inviting them to try for themselves. Some accepted this help graciously. Others were not so humble, nor were they grateful. A few others followed his example, and within the next half hour, the tents were finally standing and ready to go.
Shawn hummed as he looked over the scene. “Looks like we’ll have to keep track of some of them in a more positive light,” he commented quietly to Moonshade.
“A lot of the reserve had talent but made the wrong enemies,” she replied as she checked over a clipboard. “The black one is Black Rook. Apparently, he got benched after he punched a fellow cadet.” She looked up. “No details given, which likely means there was more to it and they didn’t want the details made public.”
“Given the nature of Canterlot’s guard, it’s certainly hard to tell what the situation might have been.” Shawn sighed.
“Not likely. He’s an Earth Pony with no name or status, grew up in the lower end, probably got talked down to by a noble who was waiting for daddy to buy him a rank and responded. It happens more often than you think.”
“That’s what I mean. We’re unlikely to know the full situation because one side, as mentioned, likely the cadet or family, had enough money.” Shawn sighed. “It’s something that will definitely need to be worked on.”
“Something to consider.” She nodded. “Still, as I said before, he’s one to keep an eye on.”
“Indeed.” Shawn nodded.
“I’ve had word sent to the mayor for places to set up outhouses and sectioned off cooking fires.” Moon shade noted as they past said areas. “We should hopefully leave a very small footprint on the area before we leave.”
Shawn nodded. “That’s good, I’d like to ensure the only thing that we leave behind is the outpost and potential worksites for the guard that will be stationed here. Stay in good graces, you know?”
“That is wise. We’ll need to run a tight ship, though. I'm sure most of these already believe themselves higher than the others.”
“Of course,” Shawn sighed as he scanned over the grounds once again. After a moment he took notice of four members setting up to sleep under the stars. “That’s something to investigate,” he sighed, turning to move toward the four.
“All right, whoever’s bed rolls these are, present yourselves!” Moon Shade shouted. It took a minute before four Ponies could clearly be seen heading toward the spot. One looked familiar. “Come on, hurry up! At attention, you four!”
The cadets in question trotted into place and awaited the mare’s next words. There was no salute in this case, but the four did at least have the sense to draw themselves up into an alert post with their heads high as they gazed at their commanding officer.
“You were all instructed to set up your tents in the designated areas. By this time, you should have been mostly set up and getting ready for chow time. So why are your spots empty?” she asked in an even but no-nonsense tone.
“Did you want us to speak individually or together, Ma’am?” Black Rook asked.
“One of you can start. If another needs to speak, they can take over. Since you spoke first, Black Rook, let’s start with you.
The Earth Pony nodded. “Well, Ma’am, to put it simply, I gave my tent to someone else, since theirs was torn beyond the ability to use. Don’t know whether it was sabotage or just a lack of supplies, but it didn’t seem right making one of the others suffer for it.” He shrugged. “I’m used to sleeping outside, so it’s no skin off my back.”
“I take it that’s the reason you were dedicating your time to assisting others with setting their tents up?” Shawn questioned.
Black Rook nodded. “Yes, Sir.”
“And you?” she asked, pointing to a Thestral next.
“You know how it is, Ma’am. We’re used to camping on a hunt. Better to ensure the rest learn how to do it right.”
“That goes for the rest of you?” she asked.
The other two nodded silently.
“Four damaged tents, then.” Shawn frowned. “Right? It’s just you four?”
“Yes, Sir.”
Shawn turned to Moonshade. “You think Ponyville’s likely to have tents, even if they will be civilian grade?”
“I’m sure they’d have a few for sale.” She nodded.
“Have our reserve funds been cleared for use, or are we still waiting on Canterlot’s side of things?”
“We have some funds, but not everything,” She said. “I supposed tents should be affordable.”
Shawn shook his head. “Take the funds out of my chests. We’ll save what we do have for any emergencies. We should be able to have these tents within the next hour, yeah?”
“I’ll send a runner immediately.”
“As for you four.” Shawn turned to face the cadets. “You will continue to follow the schedule as ordered. Before it becomes late, you should have replacement tents to work with.”
The four saluted and bellowed a united, “Yes, Sir!”
The Punch Bowl Inn was a simple two-story structure. A wooden sign protruding from the porch and painted to look like a punch bowl with a ladle protruding from one side loudly proclaimed the establishment’s name. The interior opened immediately into what equated to a pub. Tables dotted the wood-floored chamber, and a large counter divided by a swing door separated the bar and kitchen from the check-in counter. A light purple mare laid snoring on the counter with a spilled glass at her side. Her mane was a darker purplish shade of magenta, and seemed to flow like a cartoon rendering of wind pouring out a bottle. The ice had long since melted, diluting the dregs of her drink even further before dribbling over the counter’s edge.
Matthew frowned as he gazed at the Pony. “Well, this looks like a problem,” he stated plainly. “How are we supposed to get our room keys now?”
“Uh hello?” Taze called. “Is someone here?”
Nobody answered until the doors creaked behind them, and a tiny sigh carried through with the two figures that stood in the doorway. A smaller Pony with a pink coat that was almost the same shade as Pinkie Pie eyed the customers as she set her saddle bags to the side. Her mane and tail were two-toned and seemed almost faded, as if age had set in early to work over that fertile field. Her green eyes were alert as she gazed over the customers to size them up.
The filly sighed again and shook her head as she approached the counter. “Hi. I’m Ruby Pinch. Have you been waiting for very long?” she asked.
“No.” Matthew shook his head and smiled. “We only arrived recently. It’s nice to meet you, Ruby Pinch.”
The filly smiled tiredly. “Thank you. It’s nice to meet you, too.” She strode under the flip portion of the counter and pulled a stool toward the cubbies that held the room keys for the inn. Then she seized one with her teeth and tossed it onto the counter. To the barkeep's credit, or perhaps her detriment, she didn’t stir, despite the din. Ruby Pinch righted the glass and pulled out a thick leather-bound book, then swung open the cover to reveal the dried parchment. “I’ll need you to sign your names here. Payment needs to be up front before sleeping for the night. If you don’t pay by closing time, you’ll be forcefully evicted from the premises,” she warned.
“I think payment was arranged by the palace?” Taze said as he walked over to sign.
Ruby nodded. “We have the rooms they asked us to make up. Are you the special party, then?”
“Yes, we are,” Matthew said. “It’s the three of us, a fourth who isn’t with us currently, and a guard. Possibly multiple if we have to divide up into each room.”
Ruby nodded. “It should be, but you can tell us whether you like it or not after I show it to you. Follow me.” She picked up a pair of keys, hopped down from the stool she’d used to prop herself up above the counter, then pranced under the counter entrance again and strode toward a wooden staircase that ascended to the upper floor landing. A hall stretched beyond to the many rooms the inn had, and she tossed the keys to both humans. “Sorry, but I’m still not tall enough to reach the locks. You’ll be neighbors to make things easier on you and the guards.” She bowed her head. “I hope you enjoy your stay!”
The two friends looked at one another, and Taze motioned toward the first door. “After you.”
The room was far from the palatial arrangements they had before. The furnishings were simple and functional, including two side tables complete with drawers by a pair of human-sized beds, two wardrobes, a chest at the foot of each bed, and that was about it. A small cloth pouch was laid on each bed by the pillow.
“Well, it has everything we need.” Taze smiled.
“We aim to please,” Ruby said with a smile.
Taze nodded as he held up a closed hand. With a single movement, he spread the fingers in the middle, and a single bit appeared in between them. He flicked it to her. “And a tip for you.”
Ruby caught it between her teeth and grinned, then placed it in a hoof before nodding her appreciation to the human. “Thanks!”
Matthew smiled. “So, who should take each room? Looks like we’ll be doubling up for a while.”
Taze nodded. “That seems reasonable.”
“Do we wait for Shawn, then?” Mutatio asked.
“I guess we kind of have to.” Taze shrugged. “No point deciding things without him.”
“Then what do we do until then?”
“Wait, I guess.” Taze shrugged. “Unless you're hungry, there isn’t much else to do.”
“We do make meals and serve patrons drinks,” Ruby said. “But it’s not time for dinner yet, and it’s probably going to take an hour before Mom wakes up.”
“So, yeah, pretty much waiting.” Taze shrugged as he set the bag he’d gotten down and picked out a book.
It took about an hour before Shawn finally arrived with Moonshade in tow. This time, a bloodshot-eyed Berry Punch led him to the rooms. “We don’t have meat here, so I hope you’re good with salad, she slurred as she rubbed her eyes and yawned.”
“That’s fine. We’ll find a way to deal with that side of things,” Shawn replied.
Berry nodded. “Ruby gave you your keys. Breakfast is from sunrise to nine. Bathroom’s down the hall.” She yawned and turned tiredly toward the stairs. “If you get locked out of the inn when we close, that’s your problem. I’m not responsible.” She gave a half wave and descended out of sight.
“We’ll keep that in mind.” Shawn turned towards the others. “So, what did we miss?”
“Rooms need to be divided, two to a room.” Taze shrugged. “Other than that, not much.”
“Since you’re a heavier sleeper than the others, it’s probably best you and I share a room, Taze,” Shawn replied after a moment.
“I am not opposed to this arrangement. Matthew has been very … tolerant of me as I have learned what is acceptable,” Mutatio replied.
“I agree. I can keep an eye on Mutatio as well,” Matthew answered.
“Works for me.” Taze nodded.
“All right. Let’s get our items sorted and put everything away.” Shawn sighed. “Afterwards, we can figure out the rest of the day.”
“Sounds—” Matthew stopped. “Uh, where will you be staying, Moonshade?”
“I guess she gets a room to herself?” Taze asked.
“I’ll stay with Matthew and Mutatio,” Moonshade said. “With his condition, we should have somebody in there who will know how to act if something goes wrong.”
Matthew coughed a little, but nodded. “That makes sense.” He paused before chuckling. “Woah. We can call our room Club M.”
Mutatio cocked his head in confusion. “Club … M?”
“Matthew, Mutatio, and Moonshade.” Matthew pointed to each as they named them. “We all have the letter M starting in our names, at least in English or Draconic.”
“And this makes us a … weapon?”
Matthew chuckled, “No, no. A club, in this sense, is like an organization, a group, like how there are dance halls. At least back home we used to call things Club Penguin or the like.”
“I’m going to let you explain this.” Taze chuckled. “And meanwhile, I’m going to go see if this town has a sweet shop or something.” He waved as he made his way toward the stairs and began his descent.
“Sounds good. Now, let’s see if I can fully explain this.” He led Mutatio into the room with Moonshade chuckling as she followed behind.
“That’s going to be a lengthy conversation,” Shawn remarked as he turned towards his shared room.
“All right,” Taze said as he looked over the troops. Surprisingly, many of them seemed more awake than he did, but the majority did not. Some grumbled in unintelligible slurries of words as they stood on the road outside Ponyville. “Now then, as you’ve been told, we’re going to be working on physical training every morning. Fortunately, we’ll be doing that together. I need to catch up, and you need to catch up.” He looked at the group. “Now then, for this exercise, I'll be assigning temporary supervisor roles to some of you. These are not permanent, and they do not make you special. Your job will be to make sure those under you complete the course. For the next week, we’ll be taking it easy, but after that, failure to complete the jog means an additional five hundred meters for everyone in the group. Let me restate that. If one of you fails, you all get the extra. Is that understood?”
The response was more akin to a groan than a proper acknowledgement, though there were a few who seemed more alert and sincere than the others.
Taze looked carefully through the ranks and immediately disqualified anybody who seemed barely functioning. That left him picking mostly from Earth Ponies or Pegasi. There were a lot more Earth Ponies here than he remembered in the guard units. One unit, however, managed to catch his eye as he stopped before a surprisingly awake Unicorn with a silvery coat and a cutie mark of a spear.
“Well now, you seem up and at ’em.” Taze nodded. “You prepared to look after those under you?”
“Yes, Sir,” the Pony answered crisply.
“You got something to say, you say it. I may not like it, but I won’t punish you for it,” Taze told him.
“Advice, Sir,” the Unicorn answered. “When you approach a Pony, ask their name as well. You lead us. You should know our names.”
“Fair enough,” Taze acknowledged. “What's your name, then?”
“Silver Spear, Sir!” he answered crisply. “Who are those that I will be watching over?”
Taze looked at the group and picked out three Earth Ponies, a Pegasus, and a Unicorn from the sleepies to stand under the colt’s leadership. Silver Spear nodded and walked over to his designated group, then started to rouse them so they would be prepared to keep in time for the exercise ahead.
Well, at least he tried to rouse them.
Taze grimaced a bit as he moved on. He didn’t necessarily like the tone Silver Spear had used, but he couldn’t fault him for it either.
When everyone was set, he looked around. “Now, we’ll be taking it easy today, a simple jog around Ponyville. Don’t get used to it. We'll be pushing harder over time. If any of you feel like pushing harder earlier, I’ll be working out myself after each run, and you can join me if you want.”
Once they were ready, he ordered them to start. By the end of it, many of the cadets and he himself were cursing him as their legs burned from the effort. Still, Taze chuckled to himself. After all, he knew the truth of the old saying. No pain, no gain. And after everything that had happened in Canterlot, he knew there was no choice but to gain.
Matthew stepped out into the chilly morning air dressed in full jungle camouflage. He took a breath while Moonshade stretched at his side. “Well, thank you for being at my side, Moonshade. I may call this jogging, but I know that in reality, I’m only speed walking. I want to be able to do more, though.” He stretched slowly as he prepped for the exercise to come.
“No problem,” Moonshade said. “Taze figured it would be better to let you go at your own pace.”
“Makes sense. They had to give a few exceptions for my health back in ROTC.” He stood up with a grunt. “Still, thank you for hanging back with me. But if you need to up your routine, please don’t let me hold you back. Lord knows I’m primarily going to be serving in the classroom, anyway.”
Moonshade shrugged. “I did my rounds long before the troops set out.”
Matthew couldn’t help but smile. “That’s good to hear. And thank you for being my battle buddy. How about we start just once around the town? If I get tuckered out, we can start back early.”
“That seems like a fine start.” She nodded. “I don’t believe Taze was pushing the trainees beyond that point, anyway.”
Matthew chuckled. “Well, I’m in worse shape than they are, so we’ll have to see how it goes. Shall we begin?”
She nodded.
Matthew stepped off the porch and began to walk very quickly. It wasn’t a jog, but neither was it the leisurely pace of the typical observer. It was steady, it was purposeful, and it was quick. In short, it was a proper speed walk. Moonshade kept pace easily, having the added advantage of being an equine with anatomy designed for running on all fours anyway.
Matthew slowly got a rhythm alternating between speed walking, Jogging, and slowing down to what he called a normal walk, which was still brisk and purposeful. He paused and leaned against the clock tower as he took the canteen at his side, uncapped it, and took a deep swig. The vessel barely sloshed when he returned it to his side, an indication of how very low he was running both on water and on steam. Then he heard the sound of hooves and shouted voices coming his way. Given the time of day and the supposed point where Taze set out, he deduced these were likely the recruits and moved to stand at attention to watch them pass.
“You okay, Matthew?” A familiar voice asked.
Matthew frowned as he watched the herd pass by. “They’re not acknowledging me. Troops acknowledge the officers if they pass them in formation. They need to respect the offices we hold, if not just us,” he muttered to Taze. “Also, I am not going to make my goal of a lap around the town like I hoped.”
“Hey, take it slow,” Taze said as he passed Matthew an extra water bottle. “I’ll make sure to address them about that when this is over.”
“Sounds good.” Matthew sighed and took a deep swig of water from the new water bottle, then offered it back. Taze refused it politely, and Matthew sighed again. “I’d better let you get back to herding this gaggle of cadets. I’m going to go back.”
“Yeah, they’ll be your cats after lunch.” Taze chuckled before he went to catch up with the rest.
Matthew chuckled in return. “I look forward to that!” he shouted back. Then he looked back at Moonshade. “Come on. We’d better get back to the officers’ quarters and get the papers for class.”
“No,” Moonshade objected. “First, we’ll get breakfast. Then we can worry about that.”
“Sounds good. Well, you know the layout better than I do. Where would you recommend we go for food?”
“Well, there’s the inn, Sugar Cube Corner, and I believe there are also some restaurants.”
“What do you suggest? I might say the inn, myself, but I’ll leave it in your care where you think is best.”
“The inn it is, then.” Moon Shade nodded.
“Sounds good.” Matthew turned and began the long slow walk back toward the inn, his legs shaking every few steps. The two made their way silently back to the Punch Bowl to let Matthew regain his strength. They sat down at a table closer to the bar counter, where a grumpy Berry Punch waited to take their orders with the same bloodshot eyes as before. Once the order was placed and filled, Matthew and Moonshade began to eat a good hearty breakfast.
Shawn yawned as he made his way out of the inn. The moon was still in the sky, but he assumed it wouldn’t be long before that was to change. Even after departing Canterlot, his waking nightmares didn’t stop, leaving him awake earlier than considered reasonable. But he wouldn’t let that stop him. He would keep himself active, one way or another. And rather than risking the chance of waking up the others, he decided to go for a walk or run depending on how he felt.
The cool morning air and the smell of fresh dew flowed through his nostrils as he strode out the inn door and onto the low-lying porch. Crickets chirped loudly in the distance, and he could hear the occasional hoots of owls and the calls of the early morning birds that always seemed to cry out in herald to the coming dawn. There were no lamps or lanterns burning at this strange hour before the twilight, but the moon and stars provided sufficient illumination to guide his path, and so he began. What better way to learn of the town and its surroundings in person than to perform a little personal reconnaissance on the layout? That, and his nagging sense of paranoia demanded that he keep moving.
Jewelers, carpenters, rug shops, sweet stores, and so much more slept silently as they waited for the morning call of the rising sun to pull them out of bed and bring in the new day. The Golden Oak library stood near the center of town and sprouted high into the air with its lush crown. Its leaves seemed almost bejeweled with silver as he jogged past it and the town square. His feet kept churning, his lungs kept puffing, and the familiar meditative beat of a runner’s steps rang in his ears to provide at least a brief distraction from the uneasiness. He wasn’t sure exactly when it was that he left the town’s limits. A brief glance toward the campsite greeted him with salutes from the troops who had been posted there to ensure the cadets remained where they belonged.
Finally, it was just rough fencing and the endless darkness undulating among the green grass of the fields as he ran. Slowly, that darkness began to recede into shadow, and color seeped over the sky with the rising of the sun. Stars winked out, and with the ascension of that blazing orb came the sight of what he thought at first might have been the Everfree Forest. That is, until he noticed the sheer uniformity of the trees and the bright colorful fruits that bedecked their branches.
The sun’s rays fell on a beautiful red barn, and Shawn could hear the snorting of hogs as his legs altered course almost before he could think, drawing him toward the orchard and the farm that lay just beyond it.
The familiar creak that all farmhouse doors seem to carry with them reverberated through the air as Shawn strode onto the property, and the imposing shape of a large red Pony with a blond mane and deep expressive eyes stepped off the porch to peer at the human inquiringly.
“Hey. Out wandering. If I’m trespassing or something, just tell me and I’ll get going,” Shawn commented, taking a moment to crack his back.
The big Pony shrugged. “Nnnnope,” he said simply.
“All right, Big Mac, I’ll stack the soil if you’ll cart the wagon this—” The comment died in Applejack’s throat as she emerged from the farmhouse to behold the human. “Lord Shawn,” she said with some surprise. “I, uh … wasn’t expecting you to be coming for a visit. Anything we can help y’all with?”
“Just wandering around. Got nothing else to be doing at the moment, honestly,” Shawn replied dismissively. “Mostly tied my stuff to paperwork, which is … dull, and quickly dealt with.”
“So you’re just looking for something to fill up your spare time?”
“I’ve literally just been on a jog around town for the last hour and a half because I didn’t want to risk waking the others. I just happened to stop here as you all stepped out from the looks of it.” He shrugged. “I mean, if you’re in need of a spare pair of hands, I can offer physical labor. Got nothing better to do.”
Applejack raised a brow, then shrugged. “If you want. But we Apples don’t believe in taking freebies. If you work with us, we’re gonna repay you for it. Don’t gotta be in bits if you don’t want ’em, but it’ll be in something.”
“Conversation will do for now.” Shawn chuckled. “Something different from being idle, you know?”
Applejack grinned. “Say no more. I feel the same way any time I have to sit around in Rarity’s for one of her fittings. How about we start with you helping me load up the cart with some soil for the trees. Then we’ll see how things go from there.” She motioned toward the red stallion. “This here’s my brother Big Mac.”
“Pleasure to meet you.” Shawn gave a nod in Big Mac’s direction.
Big Mac nodded in return. “Eeeeeyup.”
Applejack shrugged. “He don’t like talking much, but most folk don’t really need him to say much to understand him anyway.” Big Mac motioned toward the barn, and Applejack nodded. “Yeah. Let’s get to work.”
By the time they had loaded up the cart and packed the shovel and other tools and buckets, the sun had well and truly risen, and the morning dew had dissipated. Apple Bloom, the youngest Apple, darted up for a swift introduction and farewell before running off to school for the day. The sight of the acreage involved with the orchard made the whole property look like a rolling sea of foliage that billowed and crested like so many waves driven by the wind. Once the soil had been properly spread, the mare nodded to her brother.
“You might wanna take a break here, Shawn. It’s time for us to harvest some of the riper trees, and applebuckin’ don’t strike me as the kind of thing y’all were built for.”
“I’m afraid I don’t know the term,” Shawn replied with an uncertain look. “Like, apple pickin’ or something, I assume?”
Applejack laughed. “Picking. Hooey! That’s a good one. If we tried picking our crop, we’d never get it done before the fruit fell and started wasting away. Here. Let me show you how it’s done.” She picked up some of the buckets and laid them out in a circle at the base of one of the trees. Then she turned and leaned forward on her front hooves, bringing her face low to the ground before she raised both rear hooves together to collide against the tree with a solid thump. Instantly, the branches released their bounty, and every last apple on the tree fell in perfect order into the buckets, filling them to the brim. “And that’s how you do it.”
“Yeah, … I may have some muscle on me, but I don’t think I could pull that off. I could probably get some if they’re ripe enough, but that’d probably be the limit.” Shawn hummed as he looked at the tree.
Applejack shrugged. “Well, if you wanna give it a shot for a laugh, it’s no sweat off our backs. It’ll only take a minute or so anyway.” She motioned to a neighboring tree where Big Mac was already laying the next set of buckets. “Go ahead.”
Shawn thought it over for a moment before shrugging. “Ah, screw it, I’ll give it at least one go.” He turned toward the tree and looked it over for a moment, finding a good spot for himself. Once he had placed an appropriate distance between him and the tree, he widened his stance. Taking a second, he brought his right foot up before thrusting it forward against the tree with a loud clunk. The tree shook like an arrow vibrating in a wooden target. It shuddered as the vibration carried up through the canopy, then down to the roots before it finally grew still. The apples remained in place for a few seconds, and then the air rang with the haillike thumps of the boughs unburdening themselves.
Applejack gaped at the sight as her mouth dropped and her brain stopped working out of sheer shock.
Shawn blinked a few times as he looked at the results of his kick. After a moment he turned toward Applejack. “Your world’s physics are questionable at best.”
Big Mac chuckled. “Eeeeeeeyup.”
Matthew and Moonshade were a little late getting back for breakfast this morning, since Matthew’s path led through the morning market. It was inevitable that he would slow down to browse the stall owners’ wares. Fortunately for him, he wasn’t alone. Taze approached down a side street, and Matthew waved him over. As soon as his friend got within hearing distance, he offered an explanation like a school boy confessing a sin to his classmates. “I ended up browsing at the market.”
“Find anything good?” Taze asked, stretching lightly, and feeling no urge whatsoever to moderate his voice..
“A few things, but I’m going to wait till after my class to do any real shopping.”
“Fair enough.” Taze nodded. “Glad to see you made it through okay either way.”’
“Yeah. Still, I’m going to see how the students handle the first class this afternoon.”
“Well, I’d warn you to not go easy on them, but we both know you won’t.” Taze smirked. “There is one Pony named Silver Spear. He’s got a bit of an attitude but doesn’t seem like a total waste. Keep an eye on him.”
“Thanks for the heads up.” He chuckled. “I wasn’t easy on my fellow cadets when I was in ROTC either, so I think I can figure out how to deal with him.”
“I figure you will. Hopefully, you can get his attitude underwraps. Because after the week of grace is over, if he’s still got it, I'm going to punch him,” Taze said honestly.
“I’ll see what I can do.” Matthew glanced at Moonshade. “You’re part of the cadre, Moonshade, and you know the laws of this land better than we do. What are acceptable forms of punishment in your military?”
“Well, that's kind of difficult to answer,” she admitted. “We don’t officially have a military, so the only standards are several thousand years old.”
“Can I have a writeup then for this evening? I prefer to have a framework to work on. And if these guards are ever going to get up to snuff, we need to train and treat them like the soldiers they need to be.”
“I’ll see what I can do for you.” She nodded.
“Interesting to run into you all together,” Shawn called out as he moved toward the group. No one seemed to notice his approach, but they were all engaged in conversation, so that was only natural.
“Good to see you, Shawn. Exploring the town, too?” Taze asked.
“I did that earlier. I was actually heading back to the tavern. Spent most of the morning helping out at Sweet Apple Acres, since they were the only ones up.”
“Did you get to eat any of the apples?” Matthew asked. “And did they actually accept your help?”
“Yes to both. Though there were certainly some confusing parts, especially when it comes to the trees.”
“Trees?” Taze asked.
“Confusion? What’s so confusing about picking apples?” Matthew asked.
“You see, applebuckin’ is already an interesting concept, since they’re kicking the trees to have the apples drop into awaiting baskets. Turns out it doesn’t seem to be a magic-oriented thing? I say that because they convinced me to give it a go, just once, and it worked.”
Everyone but Moonshade seemed surprised.
“Wait, you kicked a tree and it worked?” Taze asked.
“Yeah. Knocked all the apples down off one kick. I mean, it put force into the trunk, but … that’s still not a lot in comparison to standard apple trees.” Shawn frowned.
“And you're walking, so your ankle didn’t shatter on impact,” Taze noted.
“It’s hard to explain, but I’ve got the feeling that some things in this world don’t abide by the same physics or structure that our world does. I mean, to be fair, magic is a point as well.”
“But I’m shocked it’s working on us as well,” Matthew said.
“Well, if it’s the physics here, I suppose ours wouldn’t really apply to it in the end.” Shawn shrugged. “In any case, I should head back to the inn. Need to sort through paperwork and probably figure out finances for everything, since we need to learn the economy here.”
“I’m going to get some reading done,” Taze said. “Still a lot of catching up to do.”
“I should get back and finish prepping my classwork for this afternoon as well.” Matthew nodded, then smiled. “I suppose that means we’re all bound for the same place. Isn’t that nice, getting to walk together as a group?”
Shawn gave a brief chuckle. “Indeed. Let’s get moving.”
The first warning was the angry glare and folded forelegs of Berry Punch. “It’s one thing to have you stay here as guests, but it’s another to have guards barging in here without permission.” She stomped up to them and jabbed an accusatory hoof at Shawn. “What the flaming Tartarus do you think gives your guards the right to break through my doors and search my guestrooms? I told them you were away. I told them there wasn’t any threat, and they still forced their way through! Are you trying to drive me under?”
Shawn frowned. “That doesn’t sound right.” He looked to the others. “Go check it out. Quickly.”
Taze didn’t need any further urging. He surged through the entrance and up the stairwell three stairs at a time. Matthew was close behind while Shawn turned to address Berry Punch directly. Moonshade had already taken wing and sped toward the landing.
The doors were all flung open. Furniture was strewn aside, beds pulled away, and towels and bedding flung over the floor like so many rags. A loud hissing emanated from the final rooms where the humans had been staying.
“I will not go quietly!” Mutatio growled.
That was confirmation enough for Taze as he jerked round the opening, using a hand to adjust his trajectory and use his momentum to rocket into the bedroom, followed closely by Moonshade. Mutatio was buzzing in the air, the crystallized love hovering around him as green flame licked around his body in an aura of concentrated magical power. His horn pulsed angrily as his eyes glowed and he fired between a pair of solar guards, leaving behind a charred black patch as each dodged to the side.
“What's going on here?” Taze shouted.
Moonshade placed herself between Mutatio and the guards, doing her best to keep the Changeling from getting off another shot.
“Danger! Move!” Mutatio spat as he glared at the guards. “Killers! Murderers! Assassins!”
Taze moved calmly and deliberately to place himself between the two solar guards and the Changeling, keeping his back to Mutatio. “Stand down, on the authority of Princess Luna.”
“That thing is a spy for the enemy. We are not about to give them a chance to get another foothold in the kingdom,” the larger of the two guards snapped. His horn rang with the sound of charged magic as he glared at Mutatio.
“So it’s treason, then?” Taze asked with a sneer.
Matthew panted as he entered the room and took in the situation. “Stand down by order of both princesses and our military,” he ordered. “That Changeling is under royal protection.”
“Look out!” Mutatio cried, even as the guards lunged forward, one at Taze, the other in a great leap toward Moonshade. A pair of filmy wings flared into existence on its back, revealing the creature for exactly what it was.
For a brief instant, everything seemed to stop as Taze took in the situation. The Changeling approaching him, the one approaching Moonshade, and the room itself were all laid out before him in perfect stillness. He weighed the courses he could take and found himself coming to a swift action. Thankful, if somewhat confused by the experience as time sped up again, he grabbed a nearby wooden chair that was strangely reminiscent of an Earth style with four strong legs and support bars to hold them together. Then he twisted and slammed it down on the leaping Changeling, just narrowly avoiding the one that had charged at him. The momentum of the one with the exposed wings was instantly cut off as it choked under the sudden force from above. Taze quickly slammed his weight down on the seat with both knees folded under him to keep the creature pinned.
Mutatio flipped himself around to hover above Moonshade’s back and fired four green gobs of ichor from his mouth. The other Changeling’s momentum worked against it. And though it managed to change shape in time to alter its course and avoid impact, one of Mutatio’s projectiles struck its wings, effectively grounding it. Mutatio hurled more gobs at the Changeling, but the creature countered with the flicks of its horn to slice the gobs and send them spreading to either side.
“Matthew! Bolt!” Taze called.
Matthew pulled the small bow from his hip and primed the mechanism. The light from the window glinted on the arrow tip before he fired to strike the Changeling in its side as it sliced at yet another projectile Mutatio had hurled. The scream of pain and angry hiss that followed was sufficient enough for Mutatio to land his blows, pinning the target’s legs so that it couldn’t move.
Mutatio panted as he lowered himself to the floor. The love crystals he had used to bolster his magic and natural biological functions had shrunk significantly with the consumption. “I am no longer of that hive, but that does not mean I cannot sense it when it is near.” Another well-placed gob of goo left the enemy Changeling’s horn completely coated, cutting off all remaining magic with that touch. “I am glad to see you returned safely. Thank you for coming to help.”
Tired of fighting with the wriggling Changeling beneath him, Taze quickly clasped his hands together and smacked the back of its head with a swift and decisive blow. There was a loud crack, followed by silence from beneath as the Changeling went limp. A few moments later, he could hear soft snoring spurred by the pressure of one of the spokes on the creature’s neck.
The remaining troop snarled as it pulled at its bonds and began to synthesize the compound that would act as the solvent to release it.
“Moonshade, please restrain him.” Mutatio plopped dizzily onto his hindquarters. “That … is more love than I am used to using.”
Moonshade approached the changeling and, in a swift motion, locked him down in what seemed to be the Equestrian version of a choke hold.
Matthew stared admiringly at the hold.
Taze stroked his chin thoughtfully as he gazed at the Changeling. “Mutatio, you said you were disconnected from the hive. But you also said you could feel its presence. Do you think it might be possible to hack back in for an interrogation?”
Mutatio shook his head and shuddered. “The song of the hive would consume me. I would be nothing more than a pawn again.”
“Then your former queen. Can we speak to her through our friend over there?”
Mutatio frowned. “That is … more difficult to determine. The queen is connected to her hive, and she directs her will through all of her soldiers. It is possible that she might be able to see us now, and even hear us. But there has never been a need to use one of us as a mouthpiece before. We would know her will, her desires for us immediately, and we would obey. If we moved as she willed, however, then it is not impossible for her to have us speak as she wishes us to speak.”
A strangled gurgling chuckle rose from the captive’s throat. “Clever boy. It seems I underestimated your potential, Thirty-eight. Had your thoughts shown such promise in your infancy, I may have placed you in a position of command.” The creature’s eyes flickered and flashed between the familiar bluish hue and the deep dark glowing green that had surrounded Crysalis’ horn when she cast her magic.
“Instead, you left me to die.”
“That is the nature of war, Thirty-eight. Though I was not the one responsible for your severance from the hive.” The soldier’s mouth curved in an insufferable smirk. “That responsibility lies solely with your captors.”
“My captors have shown mercy.”
“Because they want to study you, obviously. Did you really think that there was any other motive they could have? Perhaps I overestimated your newfound intelligence after all.”
“I was smart enough to know your intent to kill me.”
“And yet you didn’t run. If your little friends hadn’t arrived, we wouldn’t be having this delightful conversation right now, would we?”
“You talk a lot for a loser,” Taze snarked.
“A mere setback, I assure you,” the Changeling remarked. “The long game is not won with a single move, you know. And there are so many interesting pieces on the board to play with.” The Changeling’s head cocked as far as it was able while Moonshade still held it. “I wonder what thoughts must dwell in that brain of yours. What sweet and bitter emotions.” The laughter that followed carried a dual tone as the blue faded and the green became more prominent.
“They’re nothing in comparison to what burns in mine,” Shawn spoke up as he rounded the corner into the room, a familiar dagger in hand.
For the briefest moment, the blue overwhelmed the green as sheer terror and disbelief overrode the connection between the queen and her pawn. Then the fear gave way to a hateful snarl. “You! You’re supposed to be dead!”
“So are you, but I suppose we’ll both have to be disappointed for now.” Shawn sneered as he stopped next to the Changeling and squatted down in front of it. “How does it feel? To have stood at the top of the nation for the briefest of moments, everything lined up so perfectly, and yet you still couldn’t do it? How does it feel to be told that by the one you called ‘expendable,’ yet you couldn’t even kill me?”
The Changeling was quiet for a time, then gurgled a wicked chortle. “I haven’t tried until now. But rest assured, ‘Lord Shawn,’ you and your friends have my undivided attention. And all that entails.”
“Don’t need it,” Shawn replied bluntly as he took hold of the Changeling’s pseudo mane before nodding to Moonshade. The mare quickly disengaged as he flipped the dagger in his offhand and threw the Changeling’s head onto the floor with a loud crack. “Now, stop wasting my time,” he growled before he slammed the dagger straight into the Changeling’s head. Chitin crunched loudly as the blade slipped down to the hilt, then spread cracks as the skull began to cave. Green ichor oozed from the site as the creature’s head lolled onto the floor.
“Well, that’s one way to send her a message,” Matthew said, then frowned. “Does that mean we might be able to use that one over there to try to trace the hive connection to wherever Chrysalis is hiding?” he asked as he gestured to the unconscious Changeling.
“Unlikely,” Shawn replied as he removed his dagger from the Changeling’s head. “But I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to try. That is, if you can replicate what you did to assist Mutatio.” He frowned, removing a cloth from his coat to clean the blade.
“That’s up to Taze.” Matthew shook his head. “He’s the one who mixed the compounds and spiked my bolts.”
“Uh, yeah,” Taze said. “I have no idea which are which,” he admitted.
“Delightful.” Shawn sighed. “Ponyville has a small jail that hasn’t really been used much. I’ll talk with the mayor to make use of it. Bind it. As for the compound, you’ll have to work with Twilight to figure something out.”
Matthew nodded. “Moonshade, could you grab us some rope, please? And maybe some leg irons if you have them,” he mused.
Moonshade gave a curt nod and took off immediately.
Matthew sighed as he took in the room’s state. “I suppose we’re going to have to reimburse Berry Punch for damages
“Already planned on it. Just deal with this.” Shawn sighed once more as he moved into the hall and back toward his shared room. After a moment, he emerged with a pouch in hand as he moved in the direction of the stairs..
“Thank you for helping me,” Mutatio said. He eyed the scorch marks and other property damage his efforts had wrought. “I am … sorry for the mess.”
Matthew sighed. “At least it’s not a Tuesday,” he muttered.
Mutatio cocked his head in confusion. “What does Tuesday have to do with it?”
“Tuesday seems to be the universal day for things to happen,” Taze said
“Don’t things always happen? Or are you referring to something more specific?”
“We had the chance to study some history while we were learning to read Equish,” Matthew explained. “It appears that most, if not all of significant events relating to violence, discord, etc. in Equestria seem to happen on Tuesdays.”
Mutatio frowned. “That is … a strange occurrence, but … I cannot refute that the attack also took place on a Tuesday. Is this always the case or only often?”
Matthew shrugged. “Who can say? We humans just like to be prepared.”
Moonshade arrived several minutes later with the requested items, and the group quickly worked at restraining their visitor.
“Moving this prisoner in its current state would probably just incite panic.” Matthew frowned, then looked to Mutatio. “Do you think you’re recovered enough to cast a glamour over our comatose friend here?”
“I … think so,” Mutatio said. “If I take the shape of a Unicorn, I can justify the glow from my horn by making it appear that I’m conjuring the bindings.”
Matthew nodded. “Do it, then. We’ll need to keep it up until we secure the prisoner properly.” He turned to Moonshade. “We’ll probably need to keep it sedated, too. I don’t want to risk it being lucid enough for Chrysalis to spy on us. If we can cloud its thoughts, maybe we can disrupt the hive connection or at least give enough static to prevent anyone from reaching out. One of us should stop by the doctor’s office to pick up the necessary prescription. Since the command belongs to Shawn, I suppose we’ll have to ask him to do it. He has the paperwork to back it up, after all.”
Taze nodded. “Honestly, I’m still trying to figure out how that happened,” Taze said.
“How what happened?”
“How I did that,” Taze noted.
“That being…?”
“I picked up a chair and slammed it onto a target while simultaneously dodging an attack. How did I do that?”
Matthew shrugged. “Adrenaline?” he suggested as Mutatio flashed into the shape of a Unicorn.
“Would you like me to wear a guard’s armor?” Mutatio asked.
“Probably best if you didn’t. They may try to ask you for some ID you don’t have,” Taze noted.
“Would Moonshade not have that?”
“Do you want to push it?” Taze asked.
“If you believe I would be better without, I will serve without. I suppose I could pretend to be one of your fighters, the ones you are training. That would be plausible, would it not?”
Taze nodded. “Or something like that. We should probably get moving.”
Mutatio nodded. “Moonshade, would you be willing to carry her?”
“I got—wait, her?” Taze asked.
Mutatio nodded. “Of course. Could you not tell?”
The Ponyville jail was a very old structure, indeed. The beams were worn by time and smoothly cut. The joists and bolts used to hold the joints together contributed to the strangely hospitable feel of the room. Hardwood floors flowed under the wrought iron bars that seemed not so much to have been inserted but had the wood grown around them. True to the traditional western cells, the windows were also barred to prevent escape, and the exterior walls had been reinforced with stone that covered the original structure. Given the size of the town, there were only three cells. Fortunately for the humans and the rest of their party, they only needed one.
“So, Mutatio, what's Chrysalis likely to do here?” Taze asked as they waited for the captured Changeling to wake up.
“It is difficult to say. The queen did not let us think before. We would only obey. If she fears exploitation, she will do what she can to protect the hive and herself from discovery. This Changeling may try to kill herself to that end. Or the queen may seek to use her as a means to locate you.” Mutatio sighed and shook his head. “Without my connection to the hive, there is no way to say for certain. And even then, I would not tell you, because the song is controlled by the queen, and I would be but another piece of that song, a note to be played and shifted at her whim.” His voice softened to little more than a whisper. “Or silenced.”
“She can’t make her explode or anything, right?” Taze asked.
“I … do not think so, but it may be wise to prevent her from being able to use magic, just to be safe.”
“And what happens if we push too far?” Taze asked.
“What do you mean by push?”
“Trying to get information out of her?” Taze clarified.
“I don’t know. It depends on how she feels. So long as she has no access to anything she can harm herself with, it should be safe. Though if the queen wishes it, she may be able to even force this one to stop breathing. The submission to the queen’s will is absolute, or … at least it used to be.”
“What are you thinking?” Taze asked.
“Merely that you released me from that hold. I know we cannot recreate those conditions easily. For now, all we can do is try to keep this worker from harm.” He frowned. “You have the drugs ready?”
Taze nodded. “I think I have a way to get her to eat them without realizing it.”
“That is good. Then it is only a matter of waiting for her to wake. If you wish, I can present myself to give a target and draw her ire.”
The unconscious Changeling slowly began to twitch, her movements sluggish as her head began to rise. After a moment, her eyes seemed to widen in panic as she looked around rapidly.
“Remain calm. I’d hate to have to knock you out again,” Taze said carefully.
She glared at Mutatio and seemed to struggle to rub her leg chitin together, creating a rapid clicking beat.
Mutatio cocked his head in confusion. “She is … asking what I have done to her. She also called me a traitor. I … do not understand what she means, though.”
“If you have something to say, say it out loud,” Taze said. “No tricks from you or your queen.”
“What have you done? Why is the hive song gone?” she snapped back.
Taze looked to Mutatio.
“Hive song?” Matthew asked as he entered the room with papers under his arm. “Didn’t Mutatio mention something like that when he first found us?” He frowned. “Does that mean she’s cut off, like he is?”
“I cannot supply an answer. This has never happened before. Your compound broke me away, but I did not think the connection could be severed in any other fashion. We have done nothing. That leaves only one possibility. Someone or something within the hive broke her connection instead. I can think of no other with the power, save for the queen mother. As I said, she controls the song. She is the conductor.”
“You lie!” the Changeling lunged at the bars and hissed angrily. “The queen would not—Mother wouldn’t do that!”
“I have no reason to lie. I am not an infiltrator. That is not in my makeup. I was bred to follow orders. I could not think as you did, Praetorian.” Mutatio cocked his head. “To think I looked like this when I discovered my loss.”
“You became stronger for it,” Taze said.
“Mother! Mother, please, let me die if I must, but don’t remove me from the song!” she cried, even as her voice cracked and shifted toward a higher register with her desperation.
Mutatio shook his head and sighed. “She will be like this for some time. I do not recall how long it took me to accept and begin to act for myself, but I know a significant amount of time did pass.”
“Well then, I guess she’s not going to be interested in this.” Taze shrugged, holding a simple unwrapped chocolate bar, which promptly vanished from his hand as the Changeling threw her weight forward, her jaws getting just close enough to grab the candy and begin devouring it in an almost feral frenzy.
“Oookay, what just happened?”
“I … am not sure,” Mutatio admitted. “I have not seen such a reaction from anyone in the hive before. Our hunger is for love, not for sweets.”
Matthew blinked with his mouth agape. “You certainly never acted like that around anything before. That almost looked instinctual.”
“As I said, I do not understand.” Mutatio shrugged. The greedy slurping and scarfing spoke louder than words how much the prisoner was interested in the treat.
“Mother has plans for me,” she said in an exultant giggle that bordered on lunacy. That's why she made sure I'd get this.” The drone grinned manically as she finished the bar and tossed her head back for a full bout of triumphant laughter that lasted for five seconds before she promptly slumped forward and buried her face in the wooden floor as the sedatives kicked in.
“Well, that's going to be a conversation when she wakes up,” Taze said.
“Would you prefer that I not be present for that interrogation?” Mutatio asked. “My presence seems to upset her.”
“No. We need someone who has some idea how this all works around,” Taze said.
“I … don’t believe I understand,” Mutatio admitted. “How what all works around?”
“How Changelings think and what may or may not be true,” Taze clarified.
“Yeah, but the real question now is how long will this sedative last? A few hours, a few minutes? Did your source tell you anything about the timing, Taze?” Matthew asked.
“Should last a couple of hours, according to the doctor. She’ll be groggy and hopefully disoriented when she wakes up. We can use that.”
“I can tell you this. She was happy. So happy that she didn’t even think to block her emotions from being felt,” Mutatio said. “Whatever this substance is, it appears to be something that she believes will lead to freedom. You should post guards here, just in case.”
“Chocolate is an interesting sweet,” Taze explained. “It effects brain chemistry, releases endorphins into the system. Those are hormones that give off the feeling of being in love,” he clarified at Mutatio’s look of confusion. “I thought it was fitting.”
“It makes one feel love?” Mutatio wondered in surprise. “If that is so, we should have been able to harvest plenty of love for ourselves. Would this chocolate allow a Changeling to feel love as well?”
“I don't know,” Matthew answered thoughtfully, “but, that’s certainly something we should try asking or figuring out with our POW. If we can figure out a means to have Changelings produce their own love, we won’t have to worry about another invasion again. Or at the very least, the likelihood of invasion from any other hives would drop significantly.”
“For now, we’ll post someone to watch her and hope it all works out,” Taze said. “Let's go see if we can find some food.”
“Perhaps something from the bakery?” Mutatio suggested. “The emotions there are … pleasant, even if they are not love.”
“Sure. I wouldn’t mind seeing what they have to eat there, myself,” Matthew said.
Taze nodded and turned toward the door. As they left, the sleeping Changeling’s chitin began to pulse with a subtle green light.
Shawn yawned as he stretched. Like usual, he was prepared for the day at least two hours before most people got up. At the moment, he was on the first floor, mentally going through his day as he tried to figure out his plans for it. The heavy creaking of wagon wheels gave him pause, and he turned curiously toward a window to behold a familiar stetson-wearing orange mare hauling a cart of apples behind her. A wizened green mare with her mane tied up in a bun strode beside her. A lattice pie stood proudly on her flanks, and a large orange scarf dotted with shiny red apples served as a shawl for her as she walked.
Shawn hummed as he stood upright. “Strange. It’s usually Big Mac who makes the deliveries,” he muttered as he made his way toward the door, giving a brief wave to Ruby as he passed by the counter.
“I don’t know, Granny,” Applejack said as they stopped in front of the establishment. “I can do a lot, but with Big Mac laid up, I don’t know how we’re gonna get the orchards ready for the storm.”
The old mare shrugged. “We’ll just have to make do, Applejack. I may be old, but that don’t mean I can’t buck with the best of ’em.” She cackled goodnaturedly. “If I ain’t too old to help with a delivery, then I ain’t too old to work the fields for a day.”
“From the sounds of it, you sound short on labor,” Shawn commented as he opened the tavern door. “I hope everything’s all right?”
“Bit of bad luck’s all,” the green mare said as she waved a hoof dismissively. “Big Mac threw out his back yesterday. I told him he needed to stretch after lunch before he got back to work, but you know how headstrong these younguns can be. He’ll be right as rain in a few days. He’s just got to keep to bed till then.” She smiled ruefully, then eyed the human up and down. “So, you’re Shawn, are you? Didn’t get the chance to meetcha properly ’fore ya up and left the other day. You do some mighty fine work, or so Applejack tells me.”
“A pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Smith.” He gave a small smile. “Sorry to have left so quickly after helping, but there’s always some work to be done. If you’d both like, I could help out some more today? With everything I did here yesterday, I could use a break.”
“You call farmwork a break?” Applejack asked in surprise.
“I worked with my hands for a living.” Shawn chuckled. “Carpentry, actually, but if there is one thing I dreaded in that line of work, it was the paperwork and documents.”
Applejack laughed. “Eeeeeyup. The universe may hate a paradox, but everypony hates bureaucracy.”
“Landsakes, Applejack, less talking, more unloading. We’ve got a schedule ta keep,” Granny chided, even as she unhitched Applejack from the wagon, then strode toward the back of the cart. Applejack nodded her agreement. If there was one thing they understood, it was the precious commodity that time represented to them, especially today.
“Here. I’ll help out,” Shawn offered as he joined the mares at the rear of the cart.
“Much obliged to ya,” Granny said as she got up onto the cart and pushed one of the barrels toward the human. “Oh, and one more thing. It’s Granny. None of that Mrs. Smith talk, understand?”
“I’ll try.” He chuckled as he took hold of one of the barrels. “But that’s a hard habit to break.” He smiled as he gauged the weight of the barrel before hefting it onto his shoulder, holding on to it with his right arm. “I can probably carry another one.”
Granny eyed him suspiciously. “You sure you won’t drop ‘em? That there’s precious cargo, you know.”
“Yeah, I’ll be fine. These are smaller than the barrels from my home, which makes them way easier to carry.”
“All right. If you say so.” Granny pushed another barrel toward the human, then shoved a third toward Applejack. “Let’s get this order in. Berry wasn’t much of a mornin’ person even before she got into brewing. Faster and quieter we get these barrels delivered, the better.”
It didn’t take long to finish delivering the order. The most painful part was watching a bloodshot Berry Punch struggle to sign coherently. She winced with every jerk of her head as she maneuvered the pen. When the paperwork was complete, the trio returned to the cart, and Shawn waved his farewell to the inn’s owner as they strode off down the cobblestone streets toward their next destination. This time, Shawn offered to pull the cart, since his hands were easily able to seize the two wooden bars like he would the handles of a wheelbarrow.
“Well, would you look at that,” Granny said with a surprised smile. “You think you can trade off with Applejack on the regular?”
“Sure. I think I can manage that.”
“Then welcome aboard,” Granny said as she extended her hoof.
Shawn took the hoof and gave a small grin as he shook it. “Glad to be of use.”
“Come on. Get up,” Moonshade said as she shook Matthew’s shoulder roughly. “You’ve been sleeping long enough.”
Matthew muttered as he slowly came back to consciousness. “Wha…? What time is it?”
“It’s after ten,” Moonshade responded. “You’ve been sleeping longer than normal.”
“And I feel exhausted,” Matthew muttered as he moved out of the bed. “Could you maybe raise the heat in the room? It feels a little chilly.”
Mutatio cocked his head in confusion. “You want a fire?”
“No, no. The room should have a radiator or some form of heat, since there’s no fireplace for the room.”
“What is a radiator?”
Matthew looked to Moonshade as he eased himself into a sitting position. “It’s a contraption that will radiate heat. It takes stuff like steam and heats it up, and that heat will radiate out into the room.”
“I’ll see what can be done about the heat,” Moonshade said, turning to go.
“Did you want me to bring your clothing?” Mutatio offered to the human.
Matthew nodded nervously as he glanced toward Moonshade’s retreating form. “If you don’t mind. Thanks, Mutatio.”
Mutatio nodded and levitated the change of clothes toward the human. “Your clothing is almost identical. Why is that?” he asked curiously.
“Uniforms.” Matthew shrugged as he pulled back his covers and turned to place his feet on the floor. “It means that, at a glance, you can tell what organization I belong to or even what nation.” He frowned, then passed under the covers to change. “That, and it reminds me of home.” He shuddered, and goosebumps rose on his skin. “I’d better see about getting a winter coat or something.”
“Warmer clothing would be advised if you are feeling cold,” Mutatio agreed. Then he licked his lips. “I know I do not require them for sustenance, but I do hope that Berry Punch has prepared those flat pieces of bread again today. You called them … pancakes, yes?”
“I am sure if you request them downstairs, she’ll make them.”
“I would, but I don’t wish to make her angry. Negative emotions tend to be the opposite of love. They may not exactly be harmful, but they are … very unpleasant for a Changeling.”
“This is an inn. If it’s on the menu, it's open to order. And sometimes, they will make things not on the menu if you ask politely enough.”
“Make it, yes,” Mutatio said. “But that does not mean they will be happy to do so.” He licked his lips again as he looked toward the door. “Though … with syrup and whipped cream, it might be worth the risk….”
“Well, I plan on making that request myself. It’s nice, warm, and filling.” Matthew chuckled goodnaturedly as he pulled back the covers and stood in his new change of clothes. He paused for a moment, then smiled as he moved toward the door. “I wonder what the answer will be in the heating situation. Maybe another quilt?” he mused.
Mutatio smiled as he shifted into his mule form again. “I’m sure you will find out soon enough.”
Taze sat in Sugarcube Corner nursing his morning coffee as he observed the comings and goings of the customers. Having already completed his morning workout and his run with the guard, he was just taking a few minutes to prep for the rest of the day.
Just as he was finishing his coffee, he realized that Mr. and Mrs. Cake, the proprietors of the bakery, were standing off to the side discussing something in hushed tones. Sensing an issue, he got up and did his best to walk over slowly. “Is everything okay?”
The two Ponies jumped in surprise at the human’s silent approach. When they finally regained their composure, the two faced the human together. Mrs. Cake spoke first.
“I’m afraid it has to do with our usual shipment of wood. Some of our recipes require a wood oven to get the proper flavor and texture. Big Mac was supposed to arrive with our next shipment today, but it looks like he won’t be coming. Without that maplewood, we won’t be able to make, as Pinkie Pie likes to say, our extra mapley maple donuts.”
A very familiar loud gasp emanated from the kitchen as a fluffy pink mane on a stretched-thin neck peered out from the kitchen door. “No more extra mapley maple donuts?”
Mrs. Cake smiled ruefully as the head suddenly shot back into the kitchen with the sound of a snapping rubber band. “Nothing gets past that mare.”
“What's the big deal? Sounds like you just need someone to chop wood. Why does it have to be Big Mac?” Taze asked.
“He’s one of the only ones with the stamina for it,” Mister Cake explained. “Chopping wood’s no easy task for most folks around here. That, and then somepony has to cart it all back after the work is done. It helps keep the farm afloat, too.”
“And the fact the grove he gets the wood from happens to be in the middle of the Everfree. The Apples are some of the few Ponies who actually know how to get through that forest safely,” Mrs. Cake continued.
“Where could I get a splitting axe?” Taze asked.
Mrs. Cake gaped at Taze. “You’re not actually thinking of going into that forest alone, are you?”
“I can handle myself in the forest.” Taze smirked.
“I don’t think you understand the threat, Taze,” Mister Cake said. “There are timberwolves and all manner of other creatures in there. They won’t hesitate to kill you and eat you if they can.”
Taze shrugged. “Good thing I'll have a large axe and plenty of trees to put my back to, then. Don’t worry. I’ll be fine,” he promised. “Just give me directions.”
“I’m afraid I don’t know where it is. None of us do,” Mrs. Cake said. “Only the Apples know how to get there. You’d have to ask Big Mac yourself.”
“Then I’ll make sure to do that,” Taze said. “How much do you need, and when?”
“We usually get about a cord of wood to work with,” the mare admitted. “As for when, … we still have a few logs left, so we should be able to get a few more batches done. But the stores will probably be exhausted by the end of the week at the rate we’re selling right now.”
“Okay. I’ll be back,” Taze said as he gave a brief salute in farewell before heading out the door and making a beeline for the forges.
Taze walked along the road to sweet apple acres dragging a small cart behind him with a battleaxe in it. The smiths had not had a wood cutting axe or a splitting maul available, and had refused to make one, saying the battleaxe would be enough. He looked forward to seeing their faces later that day as he walked past the orchard keeping his eye out for Big Macintosh.
He caught sight of a familiar face several minutes in. “Shawn?”
Shawn turned from the current tree he was working on. “Oh. Hey, Taze. Something going on?”
“Need to find Big Mac. Apparently, the bakers need some special wood, and he’s not able to get it for them, so I figured it would be a good way to work out.” Taze shrugged. “Also need to teach some smiths a lesson about wood chopping and axes.” He gestured to the battleaxe.
“He’ll be near the house. From what I can tell, he’s doing some light work, since he won’t sit still.” Shawn shrugged. “Just follow the path and you’ll get there.”
“Thanks.” Taze nodded. “How goes the work?”
“Surprisingly quick, but I think it helps that I can carry close enough to what Big Mac typically moves for this.”
“Wow. I didn’t realize you were that strong.”
“No, no. I don’t mean as much as he can. I mean more the whole, carrying this stuff takes space for them that you or I could, say, put on a shoulder and carry something else,” Shawn clarified.
“Ah.” Taze nodded. “That makes sense.”
“Just wish I had some actual work clothes. It feels strange working in this.” He gestured toward his shirt and fine pants. The coat had been cast aside for the sake of easy movement and to remove a layer of heat.
“Well, I mean, it’s not really made for work,” Taze noted.
“Yeah. Maybe I should stop by Rarity’s, get some actual clothes I can work out of…” Shawn sighed. “I’ll do it later. For now, I should probably get back to it. Same as you, I suspect?”
“Yeah. Thanks for the advice. I’ll head for the farmhouse, then.”
The journey into the farmhouse was swift and easy. Since Applejack and Shawn were busy working the orchard, there were only two people to worry about inside. The familiar shape of Big Mac laid on the couch with his back and barrel wrapped in supporting strips of cloth. The smell of sugar, cinnamon, apples, and other spices filled the room in a bouquet that spoke of the comforts of home and the warmth of a fall harvest. A rocker creaked gently in the corner, where a wizened green mare sat working a pair of knitting needles.
“Hello, Ma’am,” Taze offered with a polite nod. “I hope today’s treating you well.”
“You’re one of Shawn’s friends, ain’t you?” the mare asked.
“Yes, Ma’am. I just needed to talk to Big Mac for a second to get some directions. But my parents taught me respect, and you always acknowledge the wisest person in the room first.” He smirked.
“Could’ve asked anyone in town, couldn’t you?” she asked as she continued to knit.
“Not quite. Apparently, the Cakes need some special maple wood from a grove your grandson usually harvests for them this time of year. I heard he was indisposed, and it just so happens I used to chop a lot of wood back home, so I figured I’d lend a hand.”
“Consarn it, I knew I forgot something while we were in town.” Granny frowned, then put down her knitting to look Taze over carefully. “Applejack tells me you were given some fancy awards after fighting the Changelings. Something about monster huntin’?”
“It was my profession prior to coming to this world,” Taze said, doing his best to keep to the story. “Is there an issue you’re having?”
“More what you’ll have in that there forest. You know about those critters?”
“Wolves made of wood and whatnot? I’m not worried,” Taze said.
“They don’t die, y’know,” she warned. “Best y’can hope for is to frighten them off.” She pointed to a far wall, where a great wooden hammer lay suspended on a pair of hooks above the door frame. “Time was, family used to do that easy with that there hammer.” She cackled. “But those were different times. Big Mac don’t feel like he needs it. And I’m no spring chicken myself anymore. Y’got the tools you need to fight?”
Taze drew his sword. “This was given to me by Princess Luna after the Changeling attack. I’m pretty sure it will be all I need. But if not, the smiths gave me a battleaxe.”
“You’ll need an axe, and Big Mac’ll need to draw you up a map.”
“Eeeeup,” Big Mac agreed, even as he started to push himself up with his hooves.
“Oh, no you don’t,” Granny snapped as she pointed an imperious hoof. “You stay right there. I’ll be back with a quill and some paper.”
Big Mac sighed heavily as he flopped back onto the couch again, then groaned in aggravation.
“Hope you heal up fast, big guy.” Taze smirked. “Bedrest is annoying. I know from experience.”
“Eeeeeyup.” Big Mac sighed, then nodded. Granny came back with the quill, ink, and parchment necessary, and the big stallion soon drew up the route Taze would need to follow through the forest, being careful to label each of the dangerous patches for the human to avoid.
“There you go.” Granny nodded. “Since you’re taking over for Big Mac, only makes sense you keep what they pay ya. Somepony’s gotta do the work, after all, and we’ve got our hooves full here tending the crops as it is.”
“You need any firewood while I’m out there?” he asked.
Granny shook her head. “Nah. We got plenty stored up, all nice and seasoned. Don’t you worry bout us none. You just make sure you make it back in one piece.” She rubbed her chin in thought. “If’n ya need a wagon, you can borrow ours. Big Mac won’t be usin’ it any time soon anyway.”
“I managed to get a cart, but thanks for the offer.” Taze nodded. “You all stay safe.” He gave another polite nod and turned to leave with his new map. He gave a small wave as he strolled to his cart and began the trek to the forest.
The smithy at Ponyville was simple in its design. A large set of bellows served to give life to the coals and strengthen the output of the forge fires. The blacksmith who owned the workshop had been more than accommodating to the two smiths from the capital. The one request was that the tools be respected and returned when work was complete for the day. The workshop itself was closed off to avoid fluctuations in temperature that can be caused by stray winds and other inclement weather, though the forge itself was designed to be separate from the stallion’s home to avoid any potential accidents. A quenching barrell and troth both were set for use, depending on the nature of the project involved and the shape that craftsman was hoping to produce.
“Lass, I know we’re designin’ armor for the guard, but I’m pretty sure we can put more into the plates than that,” Steel Weaver remarked as he pointed toward one of the designs.
“We can if we articulate ’em,” Storm Hammer said. “Interlocking plates means we’d never need skin showing.”
“As great as it would be, we don’t have the numbers to make that. After all, it’s just the two of us. We need something protective and lasting until they send us some more smiths, even if they’re just armorsmiths and weaponsmiths.”
“I know.” Storm hammer sighed. “Just feels like we’re being forced to cut corners.”
“Oi’, just because we’re in a tight spot doesn’t mean we’re cuttin’ corners. Just means we’ll have to figure out some workarounds.” Steel Weaver smiled. “Come on, lass, we may not be able to match the legend, but we’re still gonna work toward it. Just got to figure it out, step by step.”
“It will be nice when we have a proper shop again. No offense to our friend, but we’re limited here,” she noted.
“Well, he’s not exactly a smith, just a toolsmith.”
“I know. Just feels cramped, you know?”
“Trust me, I know. I miss our separate workshops.” He sighed.
“Anyway what do you think of this design, then?” she asked, pointing to another one. “It at least has a decent amount of plating.”
Steel Weaver hummed as he looked over the design. “Could work. Doesn’t have much room for adjustment, but it’s not meant to be the final set as it is, anyway, so it should do. Let’s try to make a set of it for now and see how it looks in its end result. Then we can maybe look into completing those ‘special cases.’”
“Fair enough,” she said, picking up her hammer.
“Act all ya’ like. I know you’ve been coming up with designs for those three.” He chuckled as he looked toward his tools.
“Same as you,” she said. “New body type and all that.”
“Different levels of strength as well. Makes things interesting.”
“Don’t think there’s been an opportunity like this in a few thousand years.” Storm Hammer laughed.
“Which means we’ve got to make it count.”
She laughed again. “Then you’d best keep up, old man.”
“Lass, I wouldn’t be laughin’ when you’re the one behind.” Steel Weaver gave a smirk as he turned toward his work.
Back at the campsite, the surveyor team had done its work. And in accordance with the necessary military training, the recruits were used to mark out the dimensions of their future temporary barracks. True to the request forwarded to the princesses, replacement tents had been shipped in for the recruits who had been sleeping outdoors to use. A dark gray Earth Pony stallion with a green mane, tool belt, vest, and hard hat looked between the stakes, tape, and the blueprint that he held between his hooves. The emblem of his special talent was a hard hat, and as such, he had chosen construction as his field.
“It’s a definite start,” he rumbled in a deep voice. “Gonna take us a few more days to get the first bunkhouse built. Timbers and beams for the framework, materials for insulation and walls, you get the picture.” He picked up his pencil from his hard hat and scrawled a few more notes on the blueprint. “And how many more did you say you were expecting here again?” he inquired.
Matthew was wearing his own hard hat, looking over the plans. “Best to design something to house about a hundred troops comfortably. It can be one or two floors. I know it’s more than we have planned for the present, but it’s best to be prepared. Once we get things ready in the forest, this will make a good staging area for the next batches of troops.”
“I can do that.” Hard Hat nodded. “Did you want us to add a kitchen into the facilities or keep that separate?”
“The Kitchen will be saved for the mess hall.”
“Want us to prep a temporary facility for you folks to use till we get everything set?”
Matthew nodded. “That would be good.”
“I’ll talk with the boys about getting things prepped, then.” Hard Hat nodded again. “Anything else you folks want me to add or consider before we get started?”
“Not that I can think of at the moment. If there's anything more, we’ll have Moonshade contact you.”
Hard Hat nodded. “In that case, I’ll get back to Ponyville and make arrangements for the supply deliveries.” He rolled up the blueprints and tossed them back into his tool belt pocket. “And thanks again for the business,” he said by way of farewell before departing.
“You’re welcome,” Matthew responded with a smile.
Matthew sat in the dining area at the Punch Bowl with Moonshade as they nursed Shirley Temples and chatted, waiting for Taze and Shawn to arrive for dinner.
After about ten minutes or so, Taze dragged himself through the door followed closely by Shawn. He plopped into an open seat and dropped a small sack of bits on the table. Shawn, meanwhile, carried a decent sized sack that he hung over his shoulder.
“Hello,” Taze offered tiredly.
“Hey,” Matthew returned. “Seems like you did well today,” he added with a tilt of the head toward the bag of bits.
“Was chopping wood,” Taze said. “The general fear of the forest and Big Mac being injured opened an opportunity.”
“On the plus side, that gives us a chance to show the townsfolk that we’re not scary. On the other hand, though, I hope Big Mac gets well soon. It’s never fun being laid up,” Matthew said.
“Really, you think walking into the place that scares them like it’s no big deal will make me less terrifying?” Taze asked.
“Well, you do have the charter to do that from Princess Luna, so they might see you the same way they see the Guard, just following orders or fulfilling a contract.”
“Considering we’re walking around at most times armed as is,” Shawn spoke up as he rested his offhand on the pommel of his sword, “they already have some opinions.”
“Hopefully good ones?” Matthew ventured. “I mean, we’re here with the guard and serving alongside them. That should hopefully give us at least some weight against any fears they may have on the scale.”
“Only time will tell.” Shawn shrugged. “For now though, how about we look into dinner?”
Matthew nodded. “Moonshade and I were waiting for you to come before we ordered.” He looked curiously toward the sack Shawn had laid next to his chair. “That’s not all bits, is it?”
“No, no,” Shawn dismissed. “They’re apples. I was given some after helping out.”
Matthew nodded. “Those will make for good snacks while we work on getting the cadets in shape.”
“They’re welcome to them,” Taze said, eyeing the area carefully. “Can’t stand apples, myself.”
Matthew gaped at his friend. “You don’t like apples? But … but what about pie, and turnovers, and bear claws, and … and … how can you not like apples?”
“Always preferred raspberries.” Taze shrugged. “Something about the texture of apples just throws me off.”
“Raw, cooked, or juiced?”
“Oh, I like apple juice, but that's about it.” Taze shrugged.
“Well, don’t let the Apples hear that. I have a feeling Miss Applejack will do all in her power to find something apple-related that you’d like.”
“Don’t plan on spreading it around,” Taze noted idly.
“Just be ready for any apple product if we eat over there or they cater something.”
“I’m aware.” Taze shrugged.
“Well, shall we get dinner while I let you know my first impressions about the class?” Matthew suggested.
Shawn hummed as he settled in and scanned a menu. “Let’s hear what you’ve got so far.”
Extended Holiday Chapter 013: What Did you do to my Axe?!
“So what do you think’s behind the door?” Taze asked Mutatio as he looked at the door in front of them, behind which their prisoner waited.
Mutatio shrugged. “I don’t know. She was higher in the chain of command. I was just a worker. But if the babbling from your guard is any indication, we should be on our guard.” He tapped his saddlebag, where the light tinkling of pink crystals tapping one another could be heard faintly through the heavy cloth.
“I got your back.” Taze smirked.
“And I have yours. I should be immune to any tricks she tries. I apologize in advance if I have to restrain you.”
The sight that greeted them was certainly cause for alarm, though not nearly of the cataclysmic proportions that the duo had expected. The Changeling had grown by nearly a quarter of her original size. Her wings had lengthened somewhat, and the beginnings of a mane now wisped from the back of her neck and head. Her neck had also lengthened somewhat alongside her horn. The most striking difference however, laid in her eyes. They were no longer the solid insectile orbs they had known for the enemy. Instead, a very distinct set of expressive Pony eyes stared ahead. A proper iris had formed, ringed by hints of green in the paling sclera. Two dark pupils pulsed within those orbs, slowly growing larger from the initial pinpricks that looked almost like pinholes.
“Mutatio, … what am I looking at?” Taze asked.
The changeling trembled as he dropped his disguise and gazed at the figure that was now most definitely proportioned to look like a mare. “I … I do not understand. She looks like … not quite the queen, but….”
“You stay here,” Taze ordered as he approached the cell and the waiting Changeling prisoner. He took several minutes to take in her form. “Better yet, go get Shawn and Matthew,” he amended.
“I will not leave you alone with her,” Mutatio said firmly.
“I’m in no danger,” Taze said.
“So you say,” Mutatio growled. “But she is stronger now. That much, I can tell. It is not quite a song, but … there is something there. A … tuning, I suppose you could call it, preparing the song to suit her, rather than … our mother.”
“She’s becoming a queen?” Taze asked.
“It is muted, but … there is something attempting to flow from her. It feels the same as the hivesong. It is … very persuasive.” Mutatio licked his lips and quickly absorbed a stream of pink energy from his saddlebag. He shuddered once, then sighed. “That helps.” He shook his head. “She could be dangerous. If that song can draw me, then when it becomes more pronounced, it will call to every unclaimed drone it can reach.”
“All the more reason for you to go find the others.” Taze said. “I’m not susceptible to it like you are.”
“But you are susceptible to magic. I cannot guarantee she won’t overpower the binding that’s been placed on her horn. Nor can I guarantee she won’t have other means to seek to persuade you to act according to her desires.”
“Trust me, okay?”
Mutatio ground his teeth. “Why did you have to say that?” he growled. “I owe you my life. But I don’t wish to leave you alone.” He uttered a curse under his breath that Taze was fairly certain he probably picked up from one of the guards on patrol before he finally strode back toward the door. “Don’t let her do anything while I am gone,” he demanded before flashing into the disguise of a Pegasus and taking flight.
“So,” Taze started as soon as Mutatio was gone, “let’s start with the basics. Do you still believe your queen’s coming for you?” he asked.
“No…” the changeling responded after a moment. “My mother has abandoned me to die here.” She stated it as if it were an obvious fact. “I can’t believe I ever believed any of us meant anything more to her.”
Taze raised an eyebrow. “Kind of a drastic change in stance,” he noted.
“”Yes. Well, I’ve had more time to think than I’ve ever had before. For example, I’ve also realized that even if we had succeeded in killing the drone, we’d likely not have made it home alive. You and the undying would have seen to that. Our deaths were foreordained.”
“You’ve picked up the language a lot faster than Mutatio has, too.”
The prisoner raised a curious brow. “Mutatio?” She thought for a moment, and then the light of understanding dawned in her increasingly expressive eyes. “Oh, the drone? Well, yes, I probably had slightly more intelligence than he did to start with. The question now is what will you plan to do with me?”
“That’s a very good question. What should we do with you?” Taze asked as he folded his arms.
“Common sense would say to kill me, though I honestly have no wish to die,” she acknowledged.
“And what do you wish?”
The Changeling sat down and tossed her head, then rubbed at the base of her growing mane. She sighed and gradually pulled her hoof away to rest with its fellow on the floor. “I wish to be me,” she said simply. “I wish to understand my new existence and what it means.”
“And do you have any insights to your recent developments?”
“You don’t know? But you're the one that started them!”
“Wait, what?” Taze asked.
“The substance you fed me. Aside from the sedative you doubtless used to put me to sleep, its general makeup was full of several chemical compounds that could start the process of an unattached drone to metamorphose into a queen.”
“Wait, chocolate? Chocolate did this to you?”
“Chocolate. Is that what it’s called? Could I have some more?” she asked him excitedly.
“Shawn’s va me tuer,” Taze muttered under his breath. “Look, we can worry about that later. Let's start with the basics. Do you have any plans at all to attack us or carry out your last orders?”
“Attack you? That seems like a very foolish plan. ‘The enemy of my enemy is my friend,’ as the Ponies say, don’t they?”
“Enemy?” Taze inquired.
“My mother, my former queen. With this process you have started, I am becoming a queen myself, a possible rival. She’s almost certain to try and kill me if she finds out. Given that you haven’t killed the drone, I can assume I have at least better chances with you than with her.”
Taze facepalmed as he processed this. “Well, this just gets more complicated.” He groaned and shook his head. “Look, just, … what do we call you?”
“Me?”
“Yes. What do we call you? What's your name?”
“Me. I am Me,” she said.
“Fine, Me … me? Look, if you want us to be capable of trusting you enough to consider this, then when my friends arrive, I need you to tell us everything you can remember about your old hive.”
The newly dubbed Me-Me tapped her chin in thought. “That … is fair. I’ll work on assembling my thoughts while we wait, then.”
“I’ll leave you to that,” Taze acknowledged, turning and opening the door only to find himself face to face with Shawn. “Ah, … Shawn.” He smiled guiltily, not unlike a child whose hand had been caught in the cookie jar before bed time. “Kinda weird funnyish development in the situation….”
Shawn blinked a few times before letting out a heavy sigh. “What did you do?”
“I might have sort of ... accidentally….” Taze gulped to try and moisten his suddenly parched throat. “Created a Changeling queen?”
Shawn stared at him for a few seconds before raising his hand and placing it on Taze’s shoulder. “You did what now?”
“Lad….” Steel Weaver sighed as he looked over the mangled remains of what was once an axe. “I know I said use this axe for now, but I didn’t mean fully use it. We were waiting on the resources….”
“I mean, I did say I needed to chop wood,” Taze said sheepishly. “But I’m sorry it’s in such bad shape.”
Steel Weaver rubbed at the side of his head. “It’s fine, lad. Just … try not to go damaging any other weapons until we can get you an axe for woodchoppin’. It’s already gonna take some time and materials to fix this thing up.”
“Uh, put this one on Shawn's tab, okay?” Taze said.
Steel Weaver raised a brow. “You sure he’s goin’ to go coverin’ this?”
“He won’t even notice the cost,” Taze assured him.
“There’s still a difference between knowing and one day finding his expenses have changed.” He sighed again. “But … I’ll take your word for it right now. But if he comes to me about it, that’s on you.”
“That's fair.” Taze nodded. “How long do you think it will take?”
“Since we have the materials, you’ll have a woodchoppin’ axe in a couple hours. This axe, however, will take a few days to fix.”
“Thank you. I appreciate your effort,” Taze said.
“All right, lad, go on. Come back in a few hours and it’ll be done.”
“I’ll see you then,” he said as he turned to leave.
Steel Weaver gave him a wave as he left. After a few moments, he gave a small smirk. “Oi’, Storm! You lost. That’s twenty bits.”
Taze left the forge and looked around the town for a moment, deciding what to do. Realizing his reading material had gotten a bit light over the last few weeks, he made his way to the library.
The door creaked open at his knocking, and a familiar young drake with bright green eyes gazed up at him. “Hey, Taze. How’s it going?” he greeted.
“Hey, I was wondering if I could browse the books? Kinda running low on reading material.”
“Sure.” Spike shrugged. “What’re you looking for? I’ve worked with Twilight to organize these shelves enough to have a pretty good idea where things are.” He turned and waved for the human to follow him inside.
“Fiction, mostly. Maybe some history books. It’d be nice to learn more about this planet.”
“You talking scientific, history, or kingdoms and nations?” Spike asked as he approached the large round wooden table and the horse head that sat on its center.
“Kingdoms and nations, more world events kinda stuff.”
“That’ll be up in the higher shelves over there.” He gestured toward the shelves nearest to the spiral stairwell leading to the upper floor. “Now, if you want some really good fiction, I’ve got some comic books you’re gonna love!”
“I won’t say no to that either, but everything needs to be balanced. On Earth, we have high fantasy, which seems kinda pointless in a world like this, but it was one of my favorite genres back home.”
“If you do, then maybe it wasn’t fantasy.” Spike smiled as he hopped up onto some shelves and began pulling down a number of volumes, then tossing them toward the table. “If magic is real here, then it had to be real on your world once, right?”
Taze shook his head. “Not to our knowledge. We have myths and legends, but nothing in my time.”
“Nightmare Moon used to be a myth, and she turned out to be real in the end.”
“That’s as fair an argument as any.” Taze shrugged. “Still, in my time there’s been no sign of magic.”
Spike nodded. “So how many books were you looking to check out?”
“What's the limit?”
“Considering it’s Twilight we’re talking about, probably as much as you can carry. I’ve never seen her say how many people can take as long as they bring them all back in the same condition they left in.”
“And what do the regulations say?” Taze asked.”Let's face it. You’re probably the only one who’s actually looked at them with how much you run this place.”
Spike shrugged. “All I do is help. It’s pretty much up to the librarian to decide how much to give out and when. Most Ponies just take a few books and try to leave it at that. If you want a limit, I guess maybe ten?” He scratched his chin. “I don’t think I’ve seen Twilight give more than that usually.”
Taze nodded. “I’ll keep that in mind. I’ll call you if I have any questions.”
Spike nodded. “The other sections should be marked, but if you can’t find something, let me know, okay?” He smiled proudly. “Twilight left me in charge.”
Taze nodded. “Well, you are an extremely useful assistant.” He smirked at the Dragon. “Someone else may get it wrong.”
“We can’t have that, now can we?” Spike grinned. “I’m gonna go grab some comics to pass the time. I’ll be back.” He frowned. “Oh, by the way, if you wanna look at anything about anatomy, you’re gonna have to wait for Twilight to get back. She said she needed them for some kind of experiment.”
“Not important. Thanks.”
Spike nodded. “All right. Be back in a few!”
Taze gave a casual wave to the leaving Dragon as he started to peruse the books. He couldn’t wait to tear into these new worlds.
“I can’t believe they’re not letting us use our magic to help,” one soldier grumbled as he dug his spade into the hard-packed dirt to build the foundation. “We could have things ready so quickly if we did.”
An Earth Pony chuckled. “A little hard work will do you wonders. You’re only bones and skin. No muscle.”
“Looks like it’s not coming so easily to you either,” the Unicorn retorted. “I know fitness is important, but we should be honing our strengths, too. Right now, this ‘special training’ feels more like a work camp than a military academy.”
The same Earth Pony chuckled. “Believe it or not, my grandpa actually said it sounded like I was getting a vacation here. I don’t think he realizes we’re not allowed to use our magic to help, but it does sort of put things into perspective a little, doesn’t it?”
“Just a little,” Hard Hat agreed as he approached from behind the pair. “Keep it up, you two. You’re doing fine. Just a half hour to go before you’re done.”
The Unicorn groaned.
“Stop whining and put your back into it,” Silver Spear snapped. “Or are you going to dishonor your family name so easily?”
“Honor is not won by digging ditches,” the Unicorn retorted.
“Ditches and tunnels saved Pony lives in the Third Gryphon War,” Silver Spear pointed out.
“Didn’t win them much favor in Canterlot, though, did it?” the soldier grumbled as he struggled to lift another shovelful of dirt out of the assigned area.
“You’re not winning much favor here either, Slipshod,” the Earth Pony said.
“Shut up,” the Unicorn grumbled. “At least there, we were treated with respect. These humans are so … so….”
“Being honest here,” one Pegasus spoke up, “we got our flanks kicked in Canterlot.”
“Eeeyup,” Rook agreed. “Let’s face facts. We all were relying on the dome to keep out any major threats.”
“Hurricane was one of the greatest military minds Equis has ever seen, and we got our flanks kicked by a bunch of bugs with holes in them,” the Pegasus continued.
“Was kind of funny seeing some of the higher ups scream like fillies, though,” another Earth Pony snarked.
The first Unicorn snorted in indignation. “We do not scream, Balder.
“Last I checked, you're the same rank as us,” another Pegasus told the Unicorn.
“That doesn’t change the fact that a majority of our land-based senior guard are Unicorns.”
“Yeah, because their parents bought their ranks,” the Earth Pony shot back.
“I resent that insinuation!” the Unicorn balked.
“Your dad wasn’t able to donate to the officers’ retirement fund?” another guard asked.
“Supporting the troops is a family tradition. We always donate to that fund every year,” he retorted hotly. “If you want to say my family is bribing, then we can settle this here and now.” His horn hummed dangerously as he grit his teeth and threw down his shovel.
“Can’t win without your magic, though, can you?” an Earth Pony snickered. “You're not worth the time.”
The Pony who had been identified as Slipshod lunged at his fellow worker with a furiously shrill cry. Dust began to rise as the two tossed and tumbled through the hole they’d dug and the main ground above it, taking chunks of boundary line with them and snapping the poles that had been erected to help in the outline in the process.
“Celestia damn it,” Silver Spear growled as he threw down his own shovel and ignited his horn. The two combatants were suddenly lifted airborne and pulled apart, kicking, cursing, and swearing all the while. Sweat dripped down his face as the strain of the act caused his neck to slowly droop with his head. “Somepony get between those two and keep them apart. I can’t hold this for much longer.”
Rook ran in and grabbed the Earth Pony, pinning him down and letting Silver spear focus his magic on the Unicorn. “It ain’t worth it,” he growled.
“Indeed. It isn’t worth it,” Shawn spoke up suddenly as he moved closer to the group. “If you were wondering why you were sent here, this is the reason why.” He spoke flatly, but the ice that coated those words left many of the Ponies shuddering.
Silver Spear was swift to pick up Slipshod and pull him in line. He then drew himself up and saluted the human. “Permission to speak, Sir?”
“Granted. Let’s hear it.”
“You’re our commanding officer, and I disobeyed a direct order not to use my magic. I’m ready to take my punishment when you’re ready, Sir.”
Shawn sighed. “Take a lap around Ponyville. Report back in afterwards and continue digging.”
Silver Spear saluted smartly. “Sir!” he barked, then bounded from the dig site to begin his run.
“As for you lot.” Shawn turned his glare to the others. “You don’t seem to understand the situation you’re in. So, I’m going to reinforce it into those skulls of yours. You are at your very end here. You are the absolute bottom of the barrel, every last one of you. And if you want to know why, look at the last five minutes. What were your exact orders?”
“Dig out space for the foundations without using magic, magically enhanced strength, or flight, Sir,” Rook said.
“Exactly. Did those orders involve bickering amongst yourselves? To argue about whose daddy loves them more? To complain about your lot in life? Let me answer this. No, they did not. So, why did you decide amongst yourselves that you were going to do so and disrupt not only your work but the work of those around you?”
An awkward silence ensued as Shawn’s words cut through the cadets.
“Exactly what I expected. You have no damned reason to have done this. You are meant to be soldiers, and yet all I see are a bunch of bickering children.” Shawn frowned before turning towards Rook. “Rook, return to your duties.”
Rook saluted and went back to digging.
“As for the rest of you, you’re all taking doubles. No, this does not mean you will have your schedule changed for tomorrow. It means you are doing a double as of now, and will continue your work tomorrow as usual. Am I understood?”
The air was immediately filled with cries of protest and dismay, at least from some of the number.
“Excuse me? Did I just hear you all ask for triples?” Shawn shouted. “You don’t get to complain! Now, unless you want something worse, you had better answer me correctly. Am. I. Understood?!”
The air resounded with the cry of, “Sir, yes, Sir!”
“Good. Now get to it!” Shawn ordered. He folded his arms and watched as they each picked up their shovels to return to work. They eyed him occasionally, almost hopefully, before that died into a grim resignation. They weren’t about to be left alone again. Shawn was sticking around to ensure they did as ordered.
A valuable lesson had just been taught, though the cost was dear. The recruits would need to pick their battles more carefully in the future. Unlike their superiors in Canterlot, Shawn was not a lord to cross swords with.
Matthew sat behind a desk in the temporary pavilion that had been erected for the sake of education and exercises. He waited patiently, glancing at a watch, then to the empty room, then at the order sheets for the soldiers’ desks. Each desk had a packet of papers with a quill and inkwell for the cadets to use. Finally, he gazed at the tent flaps drifting gently in a subtle breeze.
Two minutes past the start of class, the Ponies filed into their makeshift classroom and took their assigned places. Matthew stood up to greet them. His frown already communicated his discontent.
“You’re late.” He held a hand to silence those that wished to protest before they could speak. “I don’t care if you were saving another person’s life, something which I very much doubt. It is the principle of the thing. You are late. You are soldiers, and you are late. Soldiers are not late. The only thing I want to hear from you when I ask you what happened is, ‘I have no excuse, Sir.’ Is that understood?” His voice cracked, but the flint behind it was audible.
Some of the soldiers glared, and Matthew could almost hear the complaints trembling behind their lips as they struggled to contain those outbursts. After all, Matthew wasn’t alone in this classroom. His lack of physical fitness and his focus on learning had led many to doubt his qualifications as a leader. And as a familiar silver-furred Unicorn opened his mouth with a, “But Sir,” having finally failed to contain that retort, Matthew bellowed with a thunderous roar.
“AM I UNDERSTOOD?”
Silver Spear flinched. “Yes, Sir,” he muttered. Then, as Matthew continued to bore his gaze into him, the cadet added, “No excuses, Sir.”
While some Ponies remained silent, others had yet to understand the lesson, and that vocal disarray continued as Matthew kept his focus set rigidly on Silver Spear.
“SIlver Spear, you may sIt down and start the test.” He glared at the others. “THE REST OF YOU, OUTSIDE! We’re going to march around the building, and then we’re going to file back in respectfully, and you will have only an hour to do the assignment!” The ponies yet again tried to protest.
“OUTSIDE!” He slammed his ruler on a desk, causing the wood to snap in half. “And just for that, we’ll be running two laps.”
The Ponies filed out while Silver Spear started work on his paper. The sound muffling spells on the cloth prevented him from hearing what transpired outside, but five minutes later, the cadets filed back in, and Matthew strode back to his own chair.
“Now you may be seated,” he said. The ponies took their seats. “Turn over the sheet and follow the directions on the paper. You have the rest of the class to do this assignment.” He raised the watch from the table. “Which, judging by my watch, gives you exactly fifty minutes. Be as detailed as you want to be. Now … BEGIN!”
The sound of paper and quill scratching began as Matthew sat down and took a book out to read, glancing occasionally at the group to observe their behavior.
With ten minutes left in the period, Matthew rose to his feet. “All right, cadets. Put your quills in the stands and turn in your papers.” He clapped his hands loudly at the protest. “Seeing as you all can’t be on time, I’m going to do you all a favor by giving you an extra ten minutes to make it to your next period. And to make sure nobody gets lost along the way, I’ll do you the extra service of leading you all there myself. In formation.”
With a sharp bark, the Ponies were on their hooves. A few orders later, they marched in rank and file from the pavilion to the Ponyville clocktower for Taze’s afternoon run. He called out a marching cadence to keep them at a slow trot, transitioning between Lunar and Solar themes as the mood took him.
At the base of the clock tower, Matthew saluted Taze and handed over the troops. A portable desk had been set up in front of the tower for the human’s use as he awaited the cadets’ arrival.
The moment the formation was put into a parade rest for a water break, an Earth Pony muttered under his breath. “What’s got that bookworm so antsy? We weren’t really late….”
Matthew approached the Earth Pony and glared with red face as he loomed over the cadet. “You. With me. Now.” He took the soldier-in-training to Taze and relayed the new words, followed by a summary of what had happened at the pavilion.
“So, then, … tell me. What's your name?” Taze asked the Pony.
“Bright Crumble. Cadet from House Cookie,” the Earth Pony responded.
“You have a problem with books, do you?”
“They belong in the libraries. They’re useful, but it’s bad for pure academics to lead. They don’t know war like we do.”
“What lands are we in, soldier?” Taze asked.
“Equestria. More specifically, the duchy of Ponyville.”
“Yes. And who is the noble in charge of the duchy of Ponyville?” Taze asked
“Celestia. But The mayor runs the town.”
“Celestia is the crown, Crumble. I asked you for the noble,” Taze said.
“I don’t know,” Bright Crumble replied honestly.
“Ah, so you’ve been living under a rock, have you?” Taze retorted.
“Are you using a slur against me?”
“Okay, you can stop playing the race card right now.” Taze slammed his fist hard enough on his desk for it to vibrate. “You do not ever try that bullshit with me, Private. I don’t care what species you are. I don’t care about your family, where you grew up, or how many zeros your family's bank account has. You play that race card again and I will make your life a god's damned nightmare. Am I perfectly clear?”
Crumble seemed irritated. “Is anger a trait that all of you share?” he asked sullenly.
The air became dreadfully silent. When next Taze spoke, his voice was cool and unnervingly calm. “Matthew, call the barber.”
Matthew nodded, though his brow furrowed in confusion. “I’ll … fetch him at once.”
Bright Crumble’s confusion was far more pronounced as he watched Matthew stride away toward the base camp. “I already have the mane cut the military requires.”
“No, you have the mane cut the Royal Guard requires. Statute 236, paragraph 2, subsection 6 states that mane length is to be determined by the leader of the guard branch and can be adjusted on a case-by-case basis pending approval by the branch leader. As shared leader of this branch, I invoke that authority. I, Taze Klim, proclaim that the Pony known as Bright Crumble would benefit from a much shorter standard mane cut until he has proven mature enough to wear his hair like a big boy.”
“And Royal Guards have said that rule is cruel and not followed anymore,” Bright Crumble countered.
“Yes. They also say to watch your mouth around those higher up than you,” Taze said. “You're from the Cookie House, probably some branch family. You know, or at least should this area is landed to Dame Twilight Sparkle, several-time national hero and powerful mage, as well as Celestia's student. She also happens to be a rather large fan of books, as is Celestia, I might add. I’m angry because you’re an educated brat who clearly was too stupid to make use of what was available to you. You hid in your family's home when the Changelings attacked me and the ‘bookworm,’ as you called him. We both fought on the front lines to defend your home city, and we have the scars and the awards to prove it. Now you talk down to him like he’s beneath you, and then you have the gaul to play dumb with me. Tell me, how would your father react to a dishonorable discharge? Because, frankly, I am this close to ordering it for your disrespect. Honestly, he probably should be happy it doesn’t carry the public gelding it used to. Or did you forget about that particular practice when you studied rules that were deemed ‘cruel’ by the guard?”
Bright Crumble snorted angrily. “I was guarding the Foals’ Hospital when other higher ups deserted the place. And yes, you all protected the capital, but what else did he do before? All this bookworm does is teach behind a desk. When does he run? I’ve only seen him reach retirement levels for his exertion. What did he do before? While Bookworms are great assets to society, they shouldn’t be left to lead—”
Taze unsheathed his sword in a single motion and neatly rested the blade’s point under Crumble’s chin. “Finish that sentence and you’ll never finish another one,” he said with a steely edge to his voice. “You disgrace my friend and your country with every word that comes from your mouth.” He grimaced as he thought about the situation currently. “I’ll tell you what, Crumble. You have a viewpoint, and I have another. How about we have you prove which is true?”
Crumble swallowed heavily as he eyed the sword. “What do you mean?” he asked. Then he licked his lips. “And … respectfully, you are close to crossing the limits of acceptable conduct between officers and cadets.”
“And you're close to crossing the line between running your mouth and treason,” Taze returned as he sheathed the blade. “In a few days, you and Matthew will play a game, a simple game of military strategy. Total conquest is the only win condition. Beat him and I'll let you go at just the shaving. Lose, and you get to pull Cook's Assistant detail for the next year.”
“A game is something that fits the academic world. What does he know about field conditions, living in tents, functioning on just a few hours of sleep, maintaining a weapon? Scholars are good, but not ones that don’t know what it’s like to be in a real campaign.”
“I assure you that all will be taken into account in the rules. Needing stable food and water supplies, supply caravans, teamsters, morale, weather conditions, the whole shebang. And to ensure that this little … experiment of ours remains pure and unadulterated, it will be decided by a fully unbiased judge. Two, in fact, just to be fair.”
Crumble’s gaze narrowed suspiciously, but he finally nodded. “Very well, I accept.”
“Very good. Now Matthew knows what mane cut you will be getting. When it’s done, you are to be confined to your quarters until said event. I have exercises to lead.” Taze said, turning from the desk. “If you leave for any unjustifiable reason and without escort, the Thestral MPs that you currently do not see will be taking you to the stockade. Am I clear?”
This time, the grumble was reluctant. “Yes, Sir.” Reluctant, but the title was there.
“Good.” Taze gave him a literal one-fingered salute, finishing with a twist of his hand, so the finger pointed high toward the heavens. “You should be glad. This is a mercy. Shawn would really have destroyed you.” And then he left to join the other cadets for their run.
Crumble stood still waiting for the return of Matthew and the barber. And though his legs did not tremble, his mane did stand on end as his eyes darted nervously around the area.
“And so, the king licked his finger, flipped the page, and fell over dead,” Taze told the group of foals. “And the head laughed its final laugh as the life left its eyes.” He ended the story on a solemn note.
Dinkie, Derpy Hooves’ daughter, stared wide-eyed as she listened. Astonishment warred with familiarity at the tale. Ruby Pinch sat alongside the rest of the CMC, gaping at the way that Taze had narrated the tale.
Scootaloo clapped her hooves together as she looked to Applebloom and Sweetie. “Could we get our Cutie Marks in … Alakazam?”
“Alchemy,” Sweetie Belle corrected.
“I wouldn’t try it,” Taze said. “There are way too many things that can go wrong.”
“Like what?” Sweetie asked.
“Have you never heard of the philosopher's stone?” Taze asked in mock surprise.
“Isn’t philosophy un … touchable?” Applebloom asked with a furrowed brow.
“Intangible,” Sweetie Belle corrected automatically.
“Yeah, that. How can it be a stone?”
“Many years ago, in my world, alchemists used to spend lifetimes attempting to create a philosopher's stone, a small blood-red stone that could extend your life indefinitely, cure any disease, and turn lead into gold,” Taze explained. “They mixed everything they could think of to try and make it, and they always failed, until one day, an alchemist by the name of Nicholas Flamell Discovered the terrible, terrible secret.”
“What secret can be so bad about a stone?” Applebloom asked.
“A secret.” Taze smirked.
“Yeah, but what kind of secret?” Scootaloo asked again. “Or is it one of those only adults know kind of secrets?”
“It’s one of those ‘if I told you, you wouldn’t sleep at night’ kind of secrets,” Taze responded.
“So you’re saying not even Rainbow Dash can handle it? That’s pretty hard for me to believe,” Scootaloo said as she folded her forelegs skeptically.
“Rainbow Dash can’t handle everything.”
“I find that hard to believe,” Scootaloo retorted. “She’s awesome, and great, and she can handle anything you throw at her.”
“But how do you handle that which cannot die?” Taze asked.
“By makin’ friends with it?” Applebloom asked.
“Ah, but there are some beings with whom you can never make friends,” Taze said. “Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn."
“The three Fillies looked confused. “Is that another language from your world?” Sweetie Belle asked.
“I wish you didn’t say those words. If Sweetie hears the same phrase four times, she’ll be able to repeat it,” Dinky said.
“It means ‘In his house at R'lyeh, dead Cthulhu waits dreaming.’” Taze smirked. “It refers to a monster, a being who seeks to destroy the world and will destroy the world when the stars are right, a creature who cannot ever truly be killed.”
“But … why would someone wanna do something like that?” Applebloom asked. “It don’t make a lick of sense.”
“Not everything in life makes sense. Sometimes, rules you think you know aren't what turns out to be true,” Taze said.
“All right, that’s enough of that,” Berry Punch said as she strode out from behind her counter at the bar. “It’s about time for you kids to get back home. Don’t you all have some homework to do, anyway?” she asked pointedly as she gazed at each of the fillies.
“It’s not that late yet,” Scootaloo said lamely.
“Late enough,” Berry countered. “Go on. You can play with Ruby again later. Scoot.”
“Don’t worry. There’ll be more stories at another time,” Taze promised.
The foals frowned, but ultimately obeyed their elder and said their goodbyes before departing for their homes.
“Ruby, do me a favor and head to your room for a few minutes, would you? I need to have a talk with our guest here,” Berry said.
Ruby nodded. “Yes, Mom.”
When the foal had left for her quarters, Berry motioned toward her bar. “Got any preferences?”
“Not much of a drinker,” Taze said. “Got any juice?”
Berry smirked. “With a name like Berry Punch, you have to ask?”
“Fair enough.” Taze chuckled. “I do something wrong?”
“I wouldn’t exactly say wrong,” Berry admitted as she approached the bar table. “It’s not like I set any ground rules for you.” She laid down a couple of glasses on the bar’s counter. “So, what’ll it be?”
“Raspberry.”
Berry Punch nodded and removed a small glass bottle, then poured for the pair of them. The red juice sparkled as she passed the cup to him. “Now, I’m a freer parent than most folks here in Ponyville. I don’t mind exposing Ruby to some things other parents might not find so … appetizing.” She chuckled. “Guess I just think kids can handle learning more than some folks give ’em credit for. The thing is, if you keep up with stories like that before bed, sooner or later, it’s going to give the little ones nightmares. I’m not going to ask you to stop, but I am going to ask you to keep those kinds of stories for earlier in the day. My Ruby’s a tough girl, but I can tell when she’s had a nightmare. I may not be the best mother in the world, but even I know the importance of looking out for a daughter. You get what I’m saying?”
“I’ll tone down on the heavy stuff.” Taze nodded with a chuckle.
“Who knows? Maybe you can break up those stories and start a business of your own if the whole building up an army thing doesn’t work out.” She waved her hoof dismissively, then took a swig of the juice. “There are plenty of adults who like a good story like that. Even better, there’s no need to worry about some drunk idiot taking it as an offense, since your characters are all humans like you.” She chuckled.
“I mean, most of your stories are all Ponies, from what I’ve read,” Taze countered. “We tend to gravitate to our own races.”
“Oh, our species isn’t the problem.” Berry chuckled. “The problem’s with the tribes in the species. Surprised you haven’t noticed that little complication after your stay in Canterlot.”
“That's fair.” Taze nodded.
Berry shrugged. “It is what it is. Ponyville’s better than most places about that, except for a few bad apples. My little pinch knows who they are and how to deal with them. You ever need a fair judgment of character, you can trust her.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Taze said. “Canterlot types are starting to get to me with the way they’re treating Matthew.”
“I’m sure you and your friends’ll be able to sober them up.”
“I hope. Anyway, I’ll work on telling more cheerful stories,” Taze promised before taking a sip of his juice.
“You have my thanks.” Berry nodded her head briefly, then smirked. “So, what do you think about the goods?”
Matthew sat down at their makeshift meeting room, an empty space in the Punch Bowl’s cellar that Berry was kind enough to allow them to use for the time being. He looked over at Moonshade, Shawn, and Taze. “So, are we ready to convene this meeting?”
“Probably as good a time as ever,” Taze said and nodded.
Shawn sighed. “Let’s get this over with.”
Matthew glanced at Moonshade, then to his friends. “What are we going to do with this wrinkle? Thanks to a slight miscalculation,” he said as he looked at Taze, “we have a Changeling Queen evolving right here in Ponyville.”
“She seems more reasonable,” Taze admitted. “And a lot more lucid.”
“Lucid? The enemy queen seemed lucid as well,” Matthew retorted. “This could be a big problem.”
“She’s not hostile.” Taze shook his head and looked to Shawn. “Hell, I’d give her a safe classification.”
“Safe?” Shawn questioned. “You’re that positive on that?”
“I’ve talked with her a few times. She’s been honest as far as I can tell, and genuinely feels no further allegiances to Chrysalis. She just wants safety to figure out what's going on right now.”
Shawn hummed for a moment before sighing. “Given the situation with Mutatio and how Luna’s treated him, I suppose it’s potentially all right. Of course, with a good amount of ground rules.”
“I’m not saying we let her go galloping around town as she pleases, but I see no reason to keep her locked in the cell anymore,” Taze said, crossing his arms.
“Okay, where will her quarters be, then?” Matthew asked. “And should we inform Twilight of this situation?”
“Does Twilight know about Mutatio?” Taze asked. “Also, we could probably get her a room at the inn.”
Matthew looked to Shawn with a vicious grin. “Seems like you just volunteered to clean up the problem, Taze, and handle everything attached to her and Mutatio.”
“Clean up the problem? I wasn’t aware we were sweeping a room, Matthew. These are living beings we’re talking about.”
“And beings that outright attacked the capital city. German Wermach are living beings, but in combat and war, they were referred to as a lot worse than a problem. Until we can ascertain loyalty and the like, this could either go pear shaped or it could be a boon.”
“Operation Valkyrie,” Taze said bluntly to Matthew.
“Fair point.” Matthew folded his arms and nodded. “Then we’ll have to see if she’s a Rommel or a Gorring.”
“At the very least, we should inform Princess Luna,” Moonshade noted.
“Then you write the letter, Moonshade. That, or you can help me to write it. I could use the practice.”
“I’ll write it,” Moonshade said. “You’re still a little slow to chain the letters together properly. You can write a translation without the amulet’s assistance if you want, though. That should prove how far your comprehension has improved.”
“Sounds good.” Matthew looked to Shawn. “Anything to add?”
“That sums up everything of major importance for the time being. Once we have a response from Luna, we can look to the future. Right now, we have everything we can do at the moment.” Shawn sighed.
“And Twilight?” Taze asked.
“Update her on the situation. While it’s our problem, it’s technically within her reach.” Shawn shrugged.
“Okay. That's going to be fun.” Taze sighed.
“I’ll see to that side of things.” Shawn looked to Taze. “As you’re going to have your hands full.”
“So I assumed.”
“For now, I believe that’s all we have. Unless there is anything that wasn’t brought to my attention?” After several moments of silence, he nodded. “Then this concludes this meeting.”
“Same time next week, then.” Matthew finished as he got up and stretched. “Now it’s time for me to get back to grading.”
“Derpy’s a really hard worker, but it’s kinda hard to track her down. Are you really sure you want to try meeting her first?” Button Mash asked as he looked up to the hunter. The two had just emerged from Sugarcube Corner after Taze made a pitstop to pick up his blood sugar again. Spike followed closely behind as he savored a particularly large sapphire.
“And that, my very young friend, is where Spike comes in,” Taze said. “We just have to write a message and address it to her, then let magic do the rest.”
“And this time, I get to be the hero!” Spike beamed as he bit off another chunk of his gem and swallowed.
“Wouldn’t you have to follow the message to see where it goes, though? I mean, if Celestia responds as fast as I’ve heard she does, then how are you supposed to even follow where the trail goes?” Button asked.
Spike shrugged. “Derpy’s a lot closer than Princess Celestia. Maybe it’ll move slower. It’s worth a shot.”
Button Mash looked skeptically at the Dragon. “Are you sure you don’t just want more gems to eat?”
Spike blushed and shuffled his feet. “Well, yeah, I guess there’s that, too….”
“Hey, can’t blame him for thinking it through.” Taze chuckled.
“Anyway,” Spike said quickly, “we can at least try it, right?”
“There’s the spirit.” Taze nodded.
Spike pulled out a quill, inkwell, and parchment from Button Mash’s saddlebag. “Here you go, Taze.”
“About that,” Taze said. “I might need you to write it for me.”
“How come?” Spike cocked his head. “You read Equish just fine. I watched you in the library.”
“I have a bit of a writing issue,” Taze admitted. “I’m okay for small bits, but anything longer and it becomes illegible.”
“Did you want to write a whole letter, then?” Spike asked as he opened the inkwell, then raised the parchment and primed the quill for the message to come. “I’m one of the fastest scribes in Equestria! Seriously, I went through a contest and everything.”
“Yeah. I’d appreciate it. Dysgraphia sucks.”
Spike grinned. “Fire away!”
It didn’t take long for the trio to compose the letter. After a number of suggestions, they finally settled on a proper letter of introduction, which Spike then offered to the human to finish with his signature. Once all was said and done, the young drake furled up the parchment into a scroll and held it in front of his face.
“Are you ready?” Spike asked. “We may have to run.”
“Ready when you are.”
“Okay. Here goes….” Spike raised the scroll, took a deep breath, and let his fire go. The letter was immediately consumed, and ashes ringed in fragments of green ember floated away on the wind.
The trio were off in a rapid chase, each doing their best to keep eyes on the magical smoke as they broke through town. Spike was able to pass easily under wagons and Ponies’ legs while Taze had to vault over objects and leap beyond the backs of passersby like hurdles in a marathon. Button Mash’s beanie spun vigorously as he ran with determination, bobbing and weaving through the crowd while simultaneously offering apologies to various townsfolk. Between the smoke, the street, and the obstacles, more than a few little accidents were left in their wake. It wasn’t quite as disastrous as the Cutie Mark Crusaders, but the trio would certainly leave their marks in the memories of many a Pony in their pursuit. At last, they turned a corner toward a low-lying cloud, where a familiar set of blue wings jutted over the edges. And there, hovering in front of said cloud was an adorable gray mailmare with roaming eyes and a cutie mark shaped like a stream of rising bubbles.
Button Mash huffed and puffed as they finally screeched to a stop beneath the mare just in time for the scroll to materialize next to her. Ever the speedster, Rainbow Dash was swift to seize the document before it could fall and pass it to the one and only Derpy Hooves, who looked at the scroll in confusion.
“We found her.” Taze chuckled between pants.
“Eeeyup,” Button replied. Spike bent over and clasped his knees as he panted. “That … was intense,” he panted.
“Um, … you wanted to see me?” the mare asked as she descended slowly to the ground.
“Sorry for the intrusion,” Taze said. “A mare called Octavia mentioned you were on top of the list of Ponies to meet, and I wanted to say,” he moved in and gave the mare a hug. “From one person with challenges to another, you provide a valuable service and you are extremely valued.”
“Oh…” Derpy blushed. “I, uh … thank you.” She looked around the street. “Did … Octavia really say that about me?”
“Yes,” Taze said. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He let her go and smiled. “My name is Taze.”
Derpy’s eyes widened with recognition. “Oh, you’re one of the ones who fought in the capitol, right?”
“I fought, yes.” Taze nodded. “But more people deserve credit for that than I do.”
“You still did everything you could to save everypony. That’s the best thing anyone could ask.” She floated up and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. “And that’s for looking after my Dinkie.”
“Hey, children are the future. Gotta be kind to them.” Taze blushed slightly, then retrieved a brown paper bag from Button’s saddlebag and handed it to her. “Here. I figured you could use a muffin for the road.”
Derpy gasped as she took the bag. “For me?”
“Yeah, Taze thought you’d like one fresh from the bakery,” Button Mash said with a smile.
“And I helped pick out the best one!” Spike added as he polished his talons against his chest. “Dragons know quality when they see it, you know.”
“I hope you have a great day,” Taze told her.
Derpy sniffled and quickly wiped away the tears that were welling up in her eyes. “Thank you. I have to finish my route, then go pick up Dinkie from the library, but later, I want you to come by our house. I’ll treat you to a nice home-cooked meal.” She beamed. “And then I can introduce you to the rest of the family!”
“I’d like that. Thank you,” Taze said with a grin.
Derpy giggled. “Until next time, then. Goodbye, you three!” She waved her hoof vigorously as she seized the bag in her mouth and flapped as quickly as her wings would allow. She accidentally cut through part of Rainbow’s cloud, triggering it to let loose its load, much to the lounging blue mare’s dismay.
“Hey!” Rainbow cried after the mare.
“Sorry!” Derpy shouted back after shifting the bag to one of her free hooves.
Rainbow sighed and quickly began running damage control over the cloud to preserve what mass she could on it. Then she sighed and shook her head. “That’s Derpy for you.” She chuckled. “I like her determination, though. She never gives up, no matter how hard things get.”
“Yeah, well, sometimes life gives you more sour lemons than other people,” Taze noted as he turned to head back. “It means that much more when you taste that lemonade.”
Spike hopped next to the human with a big grin on his face. “So where do we go next?”
Button Mash flanked the human on the other side. “I can take you anywhere you want to go.”
“How about you show me somewhere you think is interesting?” Taze asked.
Button Mash grinned. “I know just the place.” He paused briefly. “You … don’t mind getting a little tree sap on you, right?”
“It involves the CMC, doesn’t it?” Taze deadpanned.
“Well, more their treehouse. You don’t always get sticky, but for some reason, they usually do.” Button Mash chuckled awkwardly. “It's a really cool place to hang out, though!”
“Not a bad place to listen to some singing either,” Spike noted slyly.
Button Mash blushed. “I just … really like the treehouse, okay? It’s cool, and Taze said he wanted to go someplace cool!”
“Fine, lets go,” Taze said as he crouched to lay a supportive hand on Button’s back. “Lead the way.”
Button Mash grinned. “You won’t believe the awesome stuff Dinky’s adding to it!” And with that, the trio were off.
The day was darkening as the sun set toward the horizon while the crescent of the moon prepared to rise. Stars were getting ready to wink into existence as shadows stretched under the fading light. Shawn strode casually from the stalls at the marketplace as the last vendors packed up their wares and closed down their establishments for the evening.
“Dinky, slow down,” a familiar voice called. Off in the distance, the racing shape of a tiny lavender Unicorn filly with a blond mane and tail approached pell mell. A gray blur soon caught up to the mare and landed smack dab in front of her, cutting her off and forcing her to crash against Derpy Hooves’ side. “How many times have I told you not to run away from me, Dinky?” she demanded.
Dinky shuddered. “I don’t wanna get eaten by the Vashta Nerada, though….” She shook as her eyes darted fearfully around the ground. “They work in a hive, too, just like the Changelings. And we can’t even see them.”
Derpy knelt and wrapped the filly in her wings, then added her forelegs for good measure. “Dinky, those scary shadows aren’t here on Equestria. You know that. The Shadow Proclamation won’t let them or any other aliens settle here without permission.”
“But—”
“No buts.” The mare stroked the filly’s mane and held her close. “I’m not gonna let anyone harm you. Understand?” She frowned then. “But how would you know about them, anyway?”
Dinky blushed and looked away. “The archives….”
Derpy’s frown deepened as her gaze narrowed. “Is that so?” She raised the filly onto her back. “In that case, the TARDIS and I are going to need to have a little chat when we get home. I don’t care how much of a genius you are. I am not about to let her get away with giving you nightmares.”
Derpy hugged her mom’s neck tightly. “Thanks, Mamma.”
Derpy smiled. “I’ll always look out for you,” she promised. “Though I think I’ll need to have a talk with your father about this, too. Time Turner really should know better by now.”
Shawn watched the pair walk away, then shook his head. “Choosing to be willfully ignorant of that,” he muttered as he continued on his way to Berry’s. It didn’t take long for him to arrive and give a brief wave to the mare before making his way to the Punch Bowl’s cellar for the next meeting with his friends.
Matthew smiled and waved in greeting. “Hey, Shawn.” Once more, a set of papers were laid in front of him, along with an equestrian pencil provided courtesy of Filthy Rich’s store.
“Hey. All right. Everyone’s here, yeah?” Shawn asked as he looked over everyone present. “Okay. Then we can begin this meeting to discuss the current plans and outlook of the guard chosen for us to train.”
“Physically, they’re coming along well,” Taze admitted. “I’ve got a list of several I'd like to take into my own section when we get things running properly. Most of them seem to gather around Black Rook, so I was thinking of making him my lieutenant.”
“He’s got a good head on his shoulders, so that should be fine. Though we’ve still got to beat it into their skulls that they aren’t special.” Shawn sighed. “Some of them have it, but others are still a pain.”
“That is very true. I’ve had one troublesome Unicorn mare that is keen on contradicting and questioning every statement and every word on the written tests. The only one that even did well on the last set of questions was one Silver Spear, and even he isn’t seeing what I’m trying to show them.”
“Some of them are just trying to get the easy life they had in Canterlot back. They think they already know everything.” Shawn frowned. “Moonshade, anything to note on the nocturnal side of things, whatever they’re trying to keep secret from us?”
“Nothing Major as of yet. Fortunately, it’s fairly easy to keep them from sending private messages home. Just general going out and trying to get contraband when they think they’re not watched.”
“The sooner we can get out of Ponyville, the better, then.” Shawn sighed once more. “All right. We’ll need to increase the timetables for the compound, get it up as soon as we can. Thankfully, we should be getting the last batch of guards soon enough and we’ll have a complete workforce to work with.” He rubbed at his forehead.” As well as more issues to deal with, of course, but the current group should get the idea across that we shouldn’t be targeted.”
“That would be good. Could you maybe see about getting a cardiologist out here, too?” Matthew asked. “Things have been feeling … off the last couple of weeks. I want to make sure things are working right.”
“I’ll see what I can do.” Shawn frowned. “I’ve got to get a few others out here as well, and get an extra set of eyes on some plans. Beyond that, I’ve got all the documents covered, so it’s only a matter of time for me to get everything out.”
“Have you been doing all the paperwork yourself?” Moonshade asked.
“Everything covering logistics, the shipments of supplies and tools, and official documents, yeah. When it comes to the teaching of the units, that’s all Matthew, of course.” Shawn raised a brow. “Why do you ask?”
“Usually, you’d have people to help with that. It seems like a lot to take on yourself,” she noted.
Shawn gave a dismissive wave. “Eh, it’s fine. I ran a business back home as well. Sure, the paperwork takes slightly longer due to me only recently having learned the written language to completion, but it’s not too bad. The only tricky part is wording things perfectly as to not have them exploited, and even then it’s not too time consuming.” After a moment of silence, he looked over the group. “Anything else of major importance to note?”
Matthew nodded. “I think it’s time to try my first Kobayashi Maru scenario on paper. I want to see how the soldiers handle a simple no-win scenario. The basis is going to be on Thermopylae.”
“So long as it’s for their betterment, go for it.” Shawn nodded.
“I think it will be. I’ve been taking small lessons from The Art of War as well. I’d like to tie this to the six types of terrain. Accessible ground, entangling ground….” He frowned. “Shoot! I forgot the rest.” He snapped his fingers, then sighed. “I’ll get them by test time,” he promised.
“So long as it’s for their betterment,” Shawn repeated. “You’re clear.”
“Thank you.” He looked at Taze. “Could I have a little extra time at the end of the week for this test? If I’m going to get a good sense for their mental states in this situation, we’re probably going to need longer than the usual hour.”
“That's fine. I’ll make it up later.” Taze nodded.
“And Shawn, Taze, I’d like to run a few practice rounds with you for the strategy duel. Do either of you have some free time coming up in your schedules?”
“If I can get the time free,” Shawn replied with a shrug.
“No promises. I need to head back into the forest tomorrow,” Taze noted.
“Sounds good,” Matthew answered
“All right, in any case…” Shawn hummed for a moment. "Our plans still stand to have everything complete before winter. And once spring rolls in, we’ll be clear to move out into the Everfree Forest.”
“Still seems like our best plan.” Taze nodded. “I don’t think Ponyville can sustain us here indefinitely.”
“Without a doubt. Thankfully, we’re importing enough to keep things stable until we can depart. The costs are being covered by the crown. Well, most of it is covered. Special materials and extra supplies come out of my coffers.” He sighed. “But, that’s all right. So long as we don’t overdo it or break tools too often, it should be fine.”
“Have the officers reported any problems with the workforce breaking tools?” Taze asked.
“Nothing too out of the ordinary. There was only one repair out of the ordinary. Your axe in particular, but most of it was covered.”
“Something happened to your axe?” Matthew asked as he looked at Taze.
“Battleaxes don’t make good chopping tools,” Taze said sheepishly.
Matthew facepalmed and groaned. “Seriously?”
Shawn sighed. “Indeed. Well, if there’s nothing else of major importance, then we should be covered on everything.”
“Agreed.” Taze nodded.
“Then unless anyone has anything else to add,” Shawn said, “this meeting is concluded.”
Shawn hummed to himself as he looked over his latest blueprints. He had planned on creating something for an upcoming event, and it was time for him to finally put it into action. Currently, he was situated in the same workspace as the smiths, who occasionally glanced at his blueprints when they had a moment.
Having spent time with his uncle, he understood smithing, and had given it several goes beforehand. Sure, it had been some years since he had done so, but he still remembered everything that his uncle taught him. Beyond this process however, he needed several other products.
“Would one of you be able to put gunpowder on the next shipment list?” he asked, still looking over his designs.
“What would you be needin’ that for?” Storm Hammer asked.
“Propulsion,” Shawn remarked as he leaned over the worktable and redrew something over his designs. “Thankfully, your remarking that means you have it and not black powder, which would be drastically more difficult to work with.”
“It took some time before we could make it safer, but that doesn’t fully answer the question there, lad,” Steel Weaver remarked with a questioning glance.
“Got to keep some secrets.” Shawn chuckled briefly. “A little security measure for the future.”
“You realize that's going to be a load of paperwork, right?” Storm hammer asked. “That's a restricted substance.”
“And if anyone has to send complaints, it’ll be my signature on the end, meaning they won’t bother you both in the slightest. I was just asking if you could send my request with your next shipment request.”
“We’ll do so, just as long as it’s your ‘ead on the line.” Storm hammer nodded.
“As if I’d put your necks on the line.” Shawn gave a smirk. “I’d risk myself before I risk anyone else.” Then he returned to his work again, continuing to redraft and redesign his project. “Got to make this perfect... Won’t have many chances if it breaks.” Then he hummed to himself.
“I appreciate that.” Storm hammer nodded.
“What exactly will we be making in the end?” Steel Weaver questioned.
“Both of you won’t be making this. I will,” Shawn replied.
“That's incredibly complex,” Storm Hammer said, glancing at the designs.
“Indeed. But I should be able to manage that.” He frowned as he looked it over once more. “It’ll take time, but it should be fine, so long as I quadruple check everything.”
“It’s a wonder the eggheads never thought of that,” Storm hammer noted. “It’s like a cannon you could ’old in your hoof.”
“Something like that, yeah, though way more complicated.” He frowned. “Need the right measurements. Have to ensure the containment is just right. And the work I’ll have to do on the inside of the barrel is going to be quite a challenge.”
“Best types of projects usually are,” Storm hammer noted.
“Indeed. All right, I can at least make some prototypes for shape and mechanical pieces until we get the gunpowder.” Shawn cracked his knuckles before giving a slight stretch. “Let’s see how this goes with tools made for a different species.”
Matthew’s eyes felt puffy and saggy as he struggled to force them open. The daylight was muted, thanks to the room’s thick curtains, leaving the human the leisure to yawn and slowly pull himself from bed. He stumbled to the door and down the hall toward the bathroom, where he finally saw his face. Despite getting a proper night’s sleep, several red veins stretched over the whites of his eyes. He groaned and quickly splashed his face with some cold water from the sink. The shock helped to draw the sleep out of him and pull him toward wakefulness.
He sputtered as he patted his face dry, then stretched and yawned. “That’s better,” he muttered to himself before returning to the bedroom and changing into his uniform. He wasn’t bothered when he found that Moonshade was gone. She had to shift places with some of the other guards from time to time, after all. But the fact that Mutatio was also missing set off a few alarm bells. The Changeling may have learned more of how to interact in society, but that did not make him an expert yet, and the fact that Chrysalis had sent assassins after him meant that she might try again when he and the others weren’t there to protect Mutatio properly.
Thus began the frantic search for any signs of the pair. Taze and Shawn were doubtless off fulfilling their responsibilities with the troops’ physical exercises and administrative work. That meant this responsibility would fall to him alone.
A dutiful search finally yielded a clue inside one of his boots. When he pulled the envelope out, a simple set of instructions greeted him.
Go downstairs.
Matthew frowned and geared himself up with crossbow and K-bar before descending the stairs. The dining room didn’t look different from the usual guests and patrons that visited, but Changelings had shown they could easily mimic other forms and people if they wished.
“Hey, sleepyhead!”
Matthew’s gaze turned sharply toward the now-familiar sight of Berry Punch’s sour expression.
“Took you long enough to wake up. I’ve been waiting for you for the last hour.” Berry rolled her eyes. “I’m supposed to give you this after breakfast,” she said as she retrieved another envelope from under the counter. “I recommend a big breakfast. You’ve got a long day ahead of you.”
Matthew frowned but nodded as two eggs were cooked sunny-side up with french toast dusted by powdered sugar and drizzled with a sweet berry syrup. “Do you know where my friends have gone?” he asked.
Berry shrugged as she watched the human eat. “They said something about some project they had to tend to. And your guard mare said something about a mission.”
“A mission?” Matthew’s heart began to race. Had they received a new assignment from the princesses? What about Mutatio? “Did she take our mule friend with her?”
Berry shrugged. “Dunno. Maybe? Probably.”
That … didn’t fill Matthew with confidence.
Berry rolled her eyes. “Just eat already. Your friends are fine. If it was an emergency, they would’ve woken you up.” She smacked the letter down heavily on the countertop. “And once you’re done, go ahead and read that. I’ll add your breakfast to your friends’ tab.”
“Don’t you mean mine?” Matthew asked.
“Nope,” Berry said, then disappeared from sight as she descended into the cellar.
Matthew finished his breakfast as quickly as possible, then broke open the sealed card to reveal a note and a folded piece of parchment.
Matthew Connors, an event of grave importance is about to come to pass. Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to follow the map enclosed in this envelope and stop at each of the locations indicated along the way. You will receive further instructions at each checkpoint. Should you fail, we will be very disappointed, and the cake will forever be a lie. Good luck, Agent Connors. Operation B-Day has officially begun.
“Operation B-day?” Matthew mused as he stroked his chin. While the letter wasn’t signed, he would recognize Taze’s unique brand of sarcasm and wit anywhere, and only a fool wouldn’t recognize the iconic Mission Impossible reference. On the plus side, that meant Taze, at least, was fine. On the down side. This letter meant he was up to something, and that worried Matthew. “Just what are you up to, Taze?” he murmured as he looked over the map. Sugarcube Corner, Carousel Boutique, Golden Oak Library, and other locations had been carefully marked along a designated trail that ultimately culminated on the far reaches of Ponyville at Sweet Apple Acres. Finally, Matthew sighed as he finished his meal and withdrew from the counter. “Guess I’d better get started….”
The day progressed, taking Matthew from one surprise to the next, including a preview of his birthday cake to come in the form of a cupcake apparated courtesy of one Pinkamena Dianne Pie. Now, as the sun began to set, the human couldn’t help but grin at the sight of the huge banner that hung at the entry to Sweet Apple Acres proclaiming a happy birthday to him. The effusive well wishing and united shouts of surprise gave him a start, but he was happy to have received such a wonderful gift from his friends. The young human was escorted to a personal table outside the barn, where a makeshift stage had been constructed and lights were directed toward the front. After a number of songs were played in the human’s honor, the lights dimmed before a spotlight flashed on to welcome two humans decked out for a day of baseball, one to play, the other to hawk his wares in the stands. Naturally, this prompted an argument that led to a very important discussion about the team and its players.
“So when the end of the month comes and it’s time to pay the players, who gets the money?” Taze asked in mock annoyance.
“Every bit of it,” Shawn nodded in return.
“All I’m trying to find out is the guy's name on the first base,” Taze said in mock exasperation.
“Who,” Shawn replied.
“The guy that gets…” Taze replied only to be interrupted.
“That’s it.”
“Who gets the money?”
“He does. Every bit. Sometimes his wife comes down and collects it,” Shawn explained.
“Whose wife?”
“Yes.”
Taze made a sound somewhere between a whimper and a whistle to express exasperation.
Matthew’s face was red as a tomato from all the laughter as he pounded his fist on the table. He squeaked and giggled as he struggled to gulp down air while the skit continued to the point of its inevitable conclusion.
By the time the skit ended, the air vibrated with the force of the roaring laughter that emerged from every Pony gathered. A certain pink mare with a very poofy mane smirked slyly and slowly rose up next to the human as she tweaked her eyebrows and nudged him gently.
“Well? Do I know how to plan a party or do I know how to plan a party?”
“Well, you sure do know how to do a party,” he answered as the Apple family got on stage for some good old fashioned country music, complete with fiddle, banjo, jug, and triangle.
“It seems you humans have many talents,” Moonshade noted.
“Well, it makes sense. If Ponies and other species can, then why not humans?” Twilight asked as she took a bite from the birthday cake. “By the way, I have a present for you, Matthew.” The mare smiled as she levitated a small box wrapped tightly in wrapping paper. “I’ve got my number one assistant to help me when I need to jot things down, but I think you’ll have an easier time using these.” The paper swiftly came off to reveal a hard-cover flipping notebook complete with a pocket pencil case and sharpener. “Happy Birthday.”
“Thank you.” Matthew cheered at the notebook and paper.
“This one next! This one next!” Pinkie jumped from literally out of nowhere as she planted a box firmly onto Matthew’s lap, then jumped out of the way in a manner that can only be described as out of frame. The container was lined with holes, and a tentative snuffling could be heard from inside. Matthew was more gentle with this one as the surprise at what was clearly a living thing being presented to him left him more than a little nervous. However, when he opened the box, a small sleek muzzle with large ears and two of the cutest puppy dog eyes he had ever laid eyes on gazed up at him. A tiny yapping bark was followed by a leap onto his chest and licking his cheek. The little fennec continued to show its affection as Matthew’s startled exclamation faded to a good natured chuckle.
A very bashful Fluttershy smiled sheepishly from behind the curtain of her pink hair. “I heard from your friends that you liked foxes, but couldn’t have one for a pet where you’re from. That’s not a problem here in Equestria, and that puppy’s been waiting for a home, so I thought, maybe you’d make a good home for it. That is, … if you want to….” she trailed off.
“I’ll … do my best, then, I guess. I’m familiar with being owned by a cat, but I’ve never been adopted by a canine, let alone a fox. Uh, you can give me pointers and instructions, right?”
Fluttershy nodded and smiled. “I’ll help however I can. He’s very smart, so you shouldn’t have any trouble training him.”
“Thank you.” He looked to the fennec with a chuckle that soon took on a slightly manic tone. “I have the perfect name for you, little buddy.”
“Well we know where this is going.” Taze smirked as he approached with Shawn at his side.
“Oh? Where? Where? Where is it going?” Pinkie asked excitedly as she bounced with the sound of springs going off.
Matthew rubbed one of the ears. “Rommel, the desert fox,” he spoke with solemn finality.
“As expected.” Taze chuckled.
“Why is it expected?” Moonshade asked, confused at what had to be inside information between the humans.
“I’ll let him tell you.” Taze looked at Matthew. “Later, or we’ll be here all day.”
Matthew chuckled sheepishly. “One time. One time at a convention.”
“You started in the morning, and we lost the entire day.” Taze deadpanned.
“It was the day before the convention even started. We still got our early tickets.” He looked to his side. “Come on, Shaw—” He looked around. “And he’s gone.” He did see a note as Pinkie put a new present in front of him.
Hey Matthew,
By the time you read this, I’ve already stepped out.-
“I didn’t even notice him leave,” Taze commented.
“When did he gain ghost silence?” Matthew asked.
“After everything I’ve seen him do already, I wouldn’t put this past him.” Twilight sighed. “Though I wouldn’t mind doing a few tests later to see how that works….”
The letter continued.
Nothing’s wrong. Don’t worry. I’m just performing the final tests on this project. My gift comes in two parts, and so I am ensuring the second half is prepared. It’s been a challenge to complete this, so I’d rather ensure that it’s working fine now, given the timing.
To collect the second piece of your gift, come by the training grounds. I’ll be there.
Signed,
Shawn O. Viginti
Matthew looked to Taze. “Well, I think to give him a bit of extra time, we should finish the gifts.” He opened the box to reveal a decorative wooden case. The great seal of the United States had been etched into the lid. Inside, he found what appeared to be a leather belt and some form of sheath, carefully crafted and tanned for wear and tear. Since the weapon wasn’t there, Matthew could only deduce that Shawn was holding on to it to show him later.
“I think you’ll like mine, too.” Taze grinned as he handed Matthew an elongated package while he seized the wooden box to make room.
Matthew smiled as he opened the giftwrap. Rommel sniffed the paper curiously before biting it gently to shake back and forth in his mouth. Matthew gently flicked the kit’s nose and removed the paper from his mouth. “Easy. No biting, Rommel.” Then he stroked the fox’s head. “Good boy.” The fox eyed the box and paper carefully, as if gauging what the human’s response would be, but didn’t try to snatch it again. Another wooden box was soon exposed to the night air, and Matthew looked at Taze with a questioning gaze.
“Storm Hammer had to work on my word and not a lot of time, so it isn’t perfect,” Taze began. “I wouldn’t try translating the Elvish script, but it can glow blue.” He grinned as Matthew opened the box to reveal a finely crafted steel dagger roughly twenty-three inches long with a curved design and complementary curving script carved into the blade in a single elegant line. Despite its slightly curvy profile, the weapon was double-edged with a wide cross hilt curving upward and a spiraling leather-wrapped handle complete with a widened pommel. Beside it lay a leather scabbard with finely made steel pieces covering the mouth and tip. Using her skill, the smith had ensured to curve the metal pieces in such a manner as to give a vaguely leafy design.
“Well, I can’t read Elvish, so no worries there,” Matthew began as he picked up the blade gently. The moment he touched it, it began to glow blue. “Cool.” He sheathed the weapon and donned the ensemble.
The next box was poorly wrapped and small. Rainbow Dash beamed with pride as Matthew slowly unwrapped the gift, revealing a large crystal sphere filled with milky bands in every color of the rainbow. He looked to Rainbow with a tilt of his head.
“Hold it up to the light,” she urged.
Matthew frowned, but did as instructed, placing Rommel on the ground and approaching a torch. As he held the orb in front of the light, the colors within the crystal churned, becoming almost liquid before a weak rainbow jumped from the now-glowing crystal. As Matthew moved to place his hand beneath the beam, he found to his surprise that the light had a physical form. “What?” he gasped.
“It’s a rainbow diffuser. Most foals in Cloudsdale get one to help them get used to interacting with clouds and weather. Since you’re new and all, I kind of thought you might like it, think it was cool and all.”
Matthew grinned as he pulled the orb away. “It’s amazing, Rainbow Dash! Thank you! We never had anything like this back home. I can’t wait to see what it does in sunlight!”
Rainbow grinned. “Trust me. You’re gonna love it.”
Among the other gifts were a new set of dress uniforms that looked suspiciously like a set of garments from World War Two, complete with, of all things, a tricorn hat from an era over a century earlier; an exceptionally delicious batch of homemade cupcakes iced to look like the American flag; a batch of highly coveted preserved zap apple jam; and a beautifully carved jade four-leaf clover complete with a card wishing him luck while begging he not show it to Twilight for whatever reason. From the CMC came a surprisingly well-made saddlebag sized proportionally for a human to help him carry any objects he might need with less difficulty. With gifts accounted for and the party going into proper swing, Matthew finally rose to prepare for the last gift. Surely, Shawn had enough time to finish his preparations by now.
He rose and passed the young kit to Fluttershy. “Would you look after Rommel for me until I get back? I don’t know what Shawn wants, and puppies get tired easily. I don’t want to have him hurt himself.”
Fluttershy nodded. “I’m sure Rommel will understand. We’ll play with him till he falls asleep and bring him by the Punch Bowl later if you can’t make it back.”
Matthew smiled. “Thanks.” Then he waved himself into the night.
The walk to the training grounds was short but calming after all the excitement and warmth from the festivities. The grounds themselves had developed significantly in the short time since their arrival in the community. Ponies were efficient, even without access to their magic. The temporary barracks was already fully erect, and to the side, the archery range had been roped off with recently staked iron poles to keep outsiders off the site without permission. A set of torches had already been placed on the edges and near one of the targets. Shawn stood patiently next to a portable table by the opening of the range.
“Happy Birthday, Matthew,” Shawn commented with a small grin.
“Thank you, Shawn.” Matthew returned the smile. “It turns out you can have foxes as pets.” He bounced in place as his other gifts came to mind. “Also, I can touch rainbows!”
Shawn gave a brief chuckle. “I suppose in a world like this, that sounds about right. In any case, I have one last gift for you, and I’m sure you’re curious about it, given our location.”
“I am.” Matthew nodded. “Is it a short bow or something?” he asked as he gestured down range.
“Not quite. You’re close, but not quite in the right field,” Shawn gave a smile. “Allow me to show you, as well as demonstrate its safety.”
“Safety?” Matthew asked. “Just what did you make?” he asked suspiciously.
Shawn reached into his coat and pulled out a familiar device. He held the dark redwood grip ending in a rounded golden cap. Following the grip revealed the mechanics of the device as he pulled back on the hammer at the back of the mechanism until an audible click sounded off. Finally, the steel barrel gleamed in the torchlight as he raised it and aimed for the target. Though it could not be seen, Shawn knew the inside of the barrel had been correctly rifled. Underneath the barrel, sitting parallel with it, was the ramrod, safely tucked away within its slot by the wooden grip and awaiting its next use.
In Shawn’s hand, was a flintlock pistol.
A crack echoed through the silent night as the trigger was pulled, the hammer slammed home, and the gunpowder ignited. The detonation was followed by another quieter snap and crack as the archery target took the brunt force of the homemade bullet’s collision.
Shawn had officially created the world’s first firearm.
“That was…. Wow,” Matthew said as the full implications of just what Shawn was giving to him dawned. “Shawn, that is, … yeah, that needs a lot of safety.”
“I used some more modern techniques I learned from my grandmother while keeping true to the era of Equestria,” Shawn replied before shrugging. “Well, close enough to this era, anyway.” He flipped the flintlock in his hand to hold it out for Matthew. “If you didn’t open the first half of my gift at the party, it’s the holster and case. Ammunition will come later, as, while it works, I’d like to get some perfect ratios and an exact method of adding it.”
“Of course.” Matthew nodded as he pulled the holster from his side satchel and put it on the other hip from Sting. He chuckled. “I look like some cowboy.” Then he grinned and hugged Shawn. “Thank you. I’m lucky to have a friend like you watching my back. Just let me watch yours where I can.”
“I’ll keep you to that,” Shawn replied with a chuckle. “Be sure to pass a thanks to the smiths as well, Steel and Storm have been assisting me where they could, since I’m not used to these tools just yet. Not quite our size, nor our modern ones.” He chuckled once more.
“I shall do that when I see them next. Also, can you make some blanks? I wouldn’t mind scaring some of my students to silence next time they decide that my voice isn’t loud enough.” A moment later, he shook his head. “Never mind.”
“I mean, I can probably do it. Just have to give me some time to get a small enough ratio as to not cause any potential damage while still making the noise.” Shawn shrugged.
Matthew smiled gratefully at his friend. “We have all the time in the world at the moment.”
“All right. Go ahead and head on back. Enjoy the rest of your night. I’ve got some other things to work on before I’ll be back.”
“I shall do so,” Matthew answered. “Just be sure to come by and get more sweets.”
Shawn shook his head. “Not a sweets person. But I’ll see if I can stop by while everyone is still around.”
“Please do. I don’t know what Pinkie Pie would do if you missed the party.”
“I mean, I was there earlier, so I’m sure she’d understand.”
“I do,” the mare said as she popped up from one of the nearby hay bales, waved quickly, then sank back in again, presumably to disappear back to the party again.
“Please don’t pop up in that area, Pinkie. It’s not a safe location,” Shawn called as he moved to depart.
Far away, the cry of, “Okie dokie, Loki!” could be heard drifting on the still night air.
“That…. But…..” Matthew started. “No, won’t talk there, won’t question,” he said and promptly turned his back. There was no way she could have gotten to the hay bale without Shawn or him seeing her. And yet she had. But the sacred rule must always be followed to avoid going insane, and he knew well the consequences of attempting to one-up that unspoken rule. It was Pinkie Pie, and he most definitely was not about to question it.
“Good morning!” Taze said to the assembled group as they stood in the recently finished training grounds. “As you may have noticed, we won’t be doing our usual run today, because today we start with weapons training.”
A Pegasus grinned exultantly. “Finally!”
“First off, you’ll be surrendering your halberds to the warrant officer,” Taze informed them. “They have no place in this guard unit.”
One of the Unicorns gasped. “The halberd has been the traditional Equestrian Guard weapon for centuries. It’s an integral part of our training.”
Taze signaled the Unicorn forward. “You think this is a good weapon?” He picked up one of the halberds.
“If you know how to use it properly, yes, Sir.”
Taze offered it to her. “Then take it and get ready for an attack, soldier.”
The Pony seized the weapon in her magic and twirled the weapon to get a proper feel of its balance before bracing for attack.
Taze took a few paces back and waited for her to signal she was ready.
“Have at you, then!” The mare lunged forward with the polearm and jabbed with the blade. Taze immediately dodged to the side, unsheathed a knife, and locked it under the halberd’s beard, moving the weapon aside. The familiar ring of magic indicated what was to come next, and Taze was ready for it when the weapon launched easily from the lock Taze had engaged and twisted with a deadly slash that Taze dodged. His hand flicked with an almost imperceptible speed as the dagger he had used whistled toward the mare’s horn. The halberd launched forward to divert the flow of the dagger, sending the weapon thumping and rolling over the ground. As the halberd drew upward to arc back, however, it stopped suddenly at its peak and quivered in the air. Taze now stood next to the mare, the cool edge of his sword placed neatly at her throat.
“You were saying?” Taze asked.
The mare glared angrily at the human, but finally sighed as the halberd descended slowly. “I yield.”
“The halberd has situational advantages,” Taze said as he sheathed his blade. “But its range is also a weakness if you get inside of it. We need to have you all capable of defending yourselves and adapting to surprises. The princesses were kind enough to loan us some masters of arms who we will be making use of to test and see where your aptitudes lie. Shield and sword, the spear, or other such weapons, to determine how to best make use of you.
“On top of this, each of you will be learning to use a bow and arrow. The size of said bow will also be something we test. Until such a time as your master of arms determines you ready, you will not be permitted to use live weaponry outside of an emergency without permission. You will, however, be provided the appropriate gear and be expected to care for it. Failure to properly clean and oil your equipment will result in punishments being handed out. Am I clear?”
The crowd roared back. “Yes, Sir!”
“And what if our aptitude is with a halberd or some other polearm, Sir?” the mare from before asked.
“Then we’ll see what can be done,” Taze replied. “But before you can master a halberd, you’ll need to be able to master the spear. You need to walk before you can run. On a related note, while I’ll overlook what you did for the sake of the demonstration, I must remind you once again that you are not permitted to use magic unless specifically told during your training.” He gave the mare’s horn a flick. “We aren’t attempting to make you into a guard that looks pretty for parades and holidays. We’re trying to make you all capable of defending your home and your families in a time of crisis.”
“Sir, requesting permission to speak, Sir!” the Pegasus from before cried.
“Go Ahead,” Taze said.
“If we are going to be learning how to use these weapons and start our training today, then where are these masters of arms?”
“They should be here momentarily.” Taze said. “For now, I want you each to think about weapons and what you’d like to try first. Keep it simple. The more advanced weapons can come after you’re deemed ready for them. Is that understood?”
The soldiers all straightened and saluted. “Sir, yes, Sir!”
Taze smiled. “Good. Then let’s get started.”
Matthew stood in front of the desk at full attention garbed in his officer’s uniform with Sting on his right hip. He watched as over half of the troops filed in early with Silver Spear in the lead alongside Black Rook. The group looked questioningly at the frame that had been installed within the tent’s structure and the doors that had been inserted on the other side, but chose not to voice their thoughts. After the group had taken their seats, they waited patiently until the clock that had been added to their pavilion struck one. At that point, Matthew cleared his throat.
“Silver Spear, please close the doors and engage the lock.”
“Sir, what about the others?” a female Earth Pony asked.
“I warned them to be early or come on time. Those who don’t have to face the consequences. This is part of the test. Now, please do as I asked, Silver Spear.”
Silver Spear nodded and winced as he pulled the doors closed. The distant sounds of shouting voices could be heard until the two doors locked and the bolts were engaged. He nearly reached his desk when the handles jiggled and the doors began to shake.
“Ignore that,” Matthew ordered calmly. “Now—”
He was interrupted by a loud wrenching tear as a knife slashed jaggedly through the tent’s wall to grant passage. A few seconds later, a Unicorn passed through the new entrance to stare at his commanding officer and the class before moving to take a seat. Matthew kept his mouth in a thin line as the rest of the class walked into the room. He waited patiently, then gazed at one of the other Unicorns who had a needle and thread for her cutie mark. “Cross Stitch, I need you to use your magic to repair the tent’s wall. You have my permission.”
“Yes, Sir.” The reedy Unicorn’s horn lit up and the tear began to seal under her care until a stray gust kicked her chair out from under her, disrupting her flow and leaving the job only partially complete.
Matthew strode first to the Unicorn and raised her from the ground. “Are you all right?”
Cross Stitch nodded. “Just a little startled, Sir. I’m all right.”
Matthew nodded and returned the chair to its proper position. “Resume the repairs. It seems that I have a troublemaker to attend to.” He strode down the aisles to where a smug-looking Pegasus with a flat top mane cut sneered at the human. “You look like one of the newer recruits to our facility. I’m going to guess some hotshot who thinks he’s got everything figured out. Or maybe you think Pegasi are better than anyone else, not unlike how some Canterlot nobility think of themselves. I’m here to tell you that you’re wrong. More importantly, I’m here to tell you that you’ve just lost your privileges for leave.” He turned to peer at the rest of the class. “I was going to commend you for your clever thinking. Though destructive, it did serve to provide an opening to join this classroom, and I encourage open thinking. However, I cannot overlook the choice of your friend here to use his magic for the sake of a prank. You’ve already been warned about the consequences for such an act. And that means triple laps around the town.”
The Pegasus snorted and rolled his eyes. “This coming from the man who just ordered a soldier to disobey a standing order from his commanding officer.”
“A commanding officer with whom I work jointly and who authorized me to be able to give permission to use magic in the event that I deem it necessary or appropriate. I have as much authority over you as Taze or Lord Shawn do. And more importantly, I deserve the same respect that you give to them. You can talk with some of your more senior cadets about how and why. I have neither the time nor the patience, and I sure as hell don’t have the respect for you to tell you my story after what you just pulled. More importantly, I doubt you could be relied upon when a situation is life or death, given how self-centered you clearly are.”
“And what do you know about life or death?”
Matthew’s eyes flashed angrily. “I know a hell of a lot more about life and death than you do.”
“Oh? Like what? Reading about it in your books?”
“I suppose you wouldn’t know much about the battlefields of life, would you? You think this is all fun and games. But there are Ponies who had to fight for their lives long after the invasion was dispersed at Canterlot. My friend Shawn was one of them. He nearly died. I, myself, have had four separate brushes with death long before the invasion took place. We’re old friends.”
He peered intently at the troops. “No one is to speak to what I am about to show you. Do you understand?” And with that said, Matthew unbuttoned his uniform and stripped to expose his chest, along with the multitude of scars that traced in ugly white streaks. “Look well, Upstart. Tell me that this isn’t the sign of a warrior’s spirit when these treatments were performed without any magic whatsoever to heal me. I had to do all of this on my own with drugs, needles, thread, and intensive physical therapy. Go ahead. I dare you. Because if you keep up this snark, I guarantee you we’ll have you shipped back home so fast, your head will spin, and you will never have a chance in the Guard again. That means disgrace to your family and whatever legacy you may or may not have.
“This is the last and only chance I will give you. And I guarantee you that Lord Shawn will take my word over yours any day of the week. So listen carefully, colt. You’re going to shut up, shape up, and learn to work with your fellow guards as a team. Right now, I’ve seen only two capable leaders among you. Their names are Silver Spear and Black Rook. In case you haven’t noticed, your name isn’t on that list.”
He rounded on the Unicorn who first cut the hole into the tent. “Given your haughty expression after you cut your way in, I’m going to guess that you’re the ringleader of this little gang. A poor leader at that, if you can’t even keep your men in line.” He pulled his shirt back on and began to button the jacket up. “Out of curiosity, was that a deliberate attempt to supplant my authority by coming late, or were you delayed? The end result is the same, as I’ve said before in this class, but your answer may yet have an impact on your punishment, Mister…?”
The Unicorn glared at the human. “Golden Shoe.”
Matthew looked expectantly at the Unicorn.
“Sir,” he grated.
“And don’t you forget it. Now, about that late arrival?”
“It was the former.”
Matthew’s face remained flat as he pondered the statement. Finally, he spoke. “At least you’re honest about it. That is to be commended, if nothing else in your behavior. As such, you’ll be leading your fellow soldiers through their chastisement. You will also be responsible for ensuring that everyone does their exercises properly. And if they don’t, then you will be responsible for starting them all back from the beginning until they get it right without exception. You want the chance to prove yourself. Congratulations. I hope you and your fellow trainees enjoy it.”
The Pegasus sneered, and Matthew began to walk back to his desk. “And for those of you who think you’ll be able to slack off or report falsely, you can think again. You will be caught, and you will be reprimanded, and you will face an even worse punishment as a result. That is not a threat. That is a promise. And that particular punishment will be devised by all three of us, rather than myself alone. Poor troops reflect poorly on their commanding officers. You’ve seen and experienced what happens when a few of you do so to Lord Shawn. Do you really want to see what happens if you actually manage to make him angry?”
A collective shudder coursed through the Ponies at those words.
A thoroughly cowed Golden Shoe spoke in far softer tones. “Did you ever serve, Sir? Before the attack on Canterlot, I mean.”
Matthew nodded bleakly as he turned to face the class again. “I served for two years in my nation's military training facilities, being given and giving the same routine as anyone preparing for active duty. If not for my health, I would have made it my career. But If I can teach you, help even just one of you go from washout to proper soldier, then it will be worth it.” He grinned. “As for what I think was the unasked question, I was just as tough on my fellow cadets when I was in opposition forces during training. I was even ordered to tone it down because of how easily I spotted them. In other words, I have the knowledge and capacity to help you build the proper foundation for a successful military career. It’s up to you to decide whether you will accept that help or have that house collapse on you before you’ve even begun construction.”
Golden Shoes looked intently at Matthew. “If your race even let someone as weak as you have a taste of the military, maybe you can teach us something,” he conceded.
“You can’t be serious, GS.”
“You saw it, Bluster. He’s proven he’s not afraid of death. Or at the very least that he’s faced it before.”
Bluster sputtered and folded his forelegs sulkily. “Coward,” he muttered.
“You two can sort out your differences later,” Matthew said. “I will have order in this classroom, however.” He approached the blackboard. “A word of advice to you, Gold Shoe, and to any others who are of a similar mind or background. You’ve all been unbelievably arrogant. You refuse to adapt to change. In war, that will kill you. The enemy doesn’t play nice. The enemy doesn’t stop because you tell him to. The enemy will do whatever it can to kill you and then ravage the people you are meant to protect. A playful gust or a fiery attitude won’t save lives. Your skills and your ability to think clearly on the battlefield will. And if you want to be taken seriously at all, then you had better start acting with the maturity and discipline that your station is meant to represent. Otherwise, your word won’t mean a thing when it may count the most.”
He motioned toward the Pony’s desk. “Take your seat, Golden Shoe. And as for the half of class that actually listened to my instructions, you will be properly rewarded. I am giving each of you an extra five points’ worth of credit on your tests. Five more will also be awarded to you, Golden Shoe, for your innovative thinking in how to make your own entry into the class when your first one was barred. Two extra points will also be given to Cross Stitch for her role in repairing this tent, so that we don’t have to bother the princesses by requesting a new one so soon.” He clapped his hands together and rubbed them. “Now, then, with that settled….” He flipped the chalkboard over to reveal a series of neat and carefully written Equestrian symbols describing the unbeatable prompt. “This is your test. You have the rest of this special hour and a half to write your answer to the problem. Be detailed and specific in how you address this situation. I want to see what you’re each capable of in your reasoning, and more importantly what action you choose to take as a result of that reasoning.
Golden Shoes gaped at the question. “But nothing like that has ever been recorded in Equestrian History!”
Matthew bared his teeth in an unnerving grin. “Who ever said the basis of this scenario came from Equestria? One hour, twenty-nine minutes, everypony….”
The scrawl of frantic pens was deafening.
Shawn took a breath as he straightened his stance. “All right,” he exhaled. “That’s the match.” At the moment, he was gauging both the strength of those they had as well as his own, given some abnormalities.
Before him was one of the Pegasi of his unit, Glory Blaze, who groaned from his place on the ground. With how fast they were, Shawn had to use different means of combat against them, including redirection.
Into the floor, in particular.
“Come on now, it wasn’t that hard of a hit,” he added, reaching down to assist the guard back onto his hooves.
“Felt like I was hit by a bloody tree,” The Pegasus said.
“Redirection,” Shawn spoke up as he patted the unit on the back. “Terrifying to Pegasi in particular, because mobility is your main strength.”
“Sir,” an Earth Pony spoke up. “Permission to speak freely?”
“Granted. What’s on your mind?”
The Earth Pony gestured to the half dozen trainees of varying tribes laying around nursing bruises, abrasions, and other related injuries. “Sir, you've been using a different excuse for a similar situation six times now.”
Shawn hummed briefly as he looked over the injured. “It is certainly strange.” He frowned. “Back home, I wasn’t particularly strong, but maybe it has something to do with the difference between our worlds.”
“Sir, have you tested your strength since the Changeling attack?”
“Not really, as I was more focused on the healing part after the attack. A broken spine makes things difficult.” He sighed. “I’ll have to look into a strength test when I have the time.”
“Sir, you’ve taken down Earth Ponies twice your mass.”
“I’ve also flatlined three times here, but for some reason I kept coming back.” Shawn shrugged. “Your world’s physics are slightly different from my own. I can’t tell you if it’s just a general strength thing or if it’s your world tampering with the scales.”
“Perhaps it may be safer to let us spar and you watch from the side?” The Earth Pony asked.
“Can’t let you get off that easy.” Shawn shook his head. “Though my strength is questionable, I am still teaching you all. I’ll attempt to hold back in some capacity, but we’re going to move forward. I’ll look into giving all of you a longer break to recover afterwards.”
“I was afraid of that,” The earth pony sighed.
“Credit for trying. And thank you for volunteering to be next.” Shawn smiled at the recruit.
That Earth Pony would wake up the next day with a double concussion.
Matthew looked up as Shawn and Taze walked into the Tavern, having taken over a booth to grade papers. Moonshade sat on the other end to give advice and input as he sought it. He waved his friends over as he made space for them. A piping hot vegetable dumpling soup sat at his side, still too warm to eat.
“They call this cold weather?” Taze asked as they approached.
“Taze, you come from the far north. I have a parka on order from Rarity. And these Ponies talk about things based on fur comfort, not human comfort.”
“Yeah. They have fur and they’re acting like it’s cold out.” Taze chuckled.
“Yeah, it’s not too bad outside at the moment,” Shawn spoke up with a shrug.
Matthew chuckled. “And I’m only skin and bones with a little metal in the chest. I need all the layers I can get. But I heard they’re prepping for a big storm coming in. Temps should get below freezing with about two feet of snow on the ground. Earth Ponies are dividing in shifts to make sure the snow doesn’t break any tree limbs around town.
“A storm, you say?” Taze smirked.
“Sounds like fun,” Shawn commented.
“Yeah, they say it’ll be a blizzard. Whiteout conditions,” Matthew answered.
“Now it sounds like fun.” Taze grinned.
“Of course you would say that,” Matthew deadpanned.
Moonshade looked confused. “Someone want to explain this to me?”
“I come from a farther northern area than these two. He,” Taze pointed to Matthew, “gets some snow and cold. But compared to me, he gets very little. He,” Taze pointed to Shawn, “lives in a desert area.”
“That sounds about right, except if we get a once-in-a century storm. Then we might compare,” Matthew said.
“He lives in a desert?” Moonshade asked incredulously.
“Yeah,” Shawn replied. “From a high of one-fifteen, and a potential low of below zero. Fahrenheit. Celsius, it’s like … forty-six to negative … seventeen, or something close.” He shrugged. “Depends on the season and part of the desert.”
“Your world sounds terrifying,” Moonshade noted.
“Ah, it’s not that bad.” He shrugged. “To us, your world is downright insane at times. So, we’ll call it even, yeah?”
“Fair point.” She shrugged.
“Indeed.”
“Guess there won’t be much of a crowd tonight, then.” Taze sighed.
“We’ll see. Never know how many may stop by.” Shawn shrugged. “As for that, though, I’ve got some work to do, so I’ll be heading up.”
“Sounds good, Shawn.” Matthew chuckled. “Well, what should we do with the snow that’s going to hit?”
“I guess the responsible thing to do would be to hunker down,” Taze commented as he rose to his feet. “I’m going to go get some food. You two have fun with your papers.”
Matthew nodded, waved his goodbye, then tested his soup to discover it had cooled sufficiently to enjoy. “I have a silly question for you, Moonshade. And I hope you won’t find it offensive. I’m just really curious. Back in our world, we had bats that fed on insects as well as fruits and sometimes other animals. Do Thestrals ever go after moths or insects as well, or do they strictly go after bigger game like deer and other non-sapient species?”
“We’re, I believe the term is opportunistic omnivores?” she said, unsure. “Thestrals can eat meat and vegetables, but we prefer meat. Likewise, if need be, we’ll go for smaller game, but it makes more sense to hunt larger creatures, given our size.”
“That is the correct term, and makes sense.” He paused and looked out the window at the fall air outside. “It’s getting close to the time of year that the people in my nation prepare food for family gatherings to give thanks for a good harvest and remember the ancestors and immigrants who traveled over waters to reach our country and eventually make it what it is today. Perhaps we could try something akin to a culinary cultural exchange,” he mused.
“Oh?” Moonshade asked.
“We call it Thanksgiving. And one of the main staples is usually a turkey or poultry-based dish with mashed potatoes and greens.” He grimaced at the word. “Sadly, greens are something I have to watch my intake on.” He cleared his throat quickly. “So, I guess I should ask in advance, in case we do go through with exchanging recipes. Do Thestrals have any food taboos or allergies? Because I was thinking of making my creamy garlic mashed potatoes.
“Nothing I can think of that would apply to such things,” she noted. “You may need to talk to the cook about using the field kitchen.”
“I’ll do that, then. And what’s a traditional Thestral meal?” he asked curiously.
“Braised venison with glazed carrots and preserved fruit.”
“That sounds yummy.”
“It is.” She nodded. “Though it's difficult to get venison these days.”
“Why?” Then his eyes widened with realization. “Oh, right, other Ponies. Venison is common back home, but a little more expensive if you don’t know where to look.”
“I suppose it helps coming from a race where meat is common,” she said with a shrug.
“It is. If we can get you to visit Earth, I’m sure we can show you a wide variety compared to what you usually eat here.” He chuckled. “Admittedly, this still feels a little strange. I couldn’t hold this conversation with a native pony from Earth. They’re not intelligent like you and the other Equestrians.”
“I mean, I don't know of any sapient apes in Equestria,” she returned.
“Touche. I guess this is still a first for both sides.” The sat in silence for a time as Matthew ate his soup. Finally, he turned his attention back to the mare as he placed the spoon in the meager puddle that remained. “Well, it’s getting sort of late.” He frowned as the shadows began to lengthen and the daylight shifted seamlessly into night. “I guess another question I can ask is … do you have any traditional lullabies for Thestrals? I have a few from my childhood I can offer in exchange.”
“An unusual request,” Moonshade noted. “But not one that I can’t oblige. There is one I remember….”
Shawn hummed as he looked over the finalized blueprint of the flintlock. He was happy to have completed the first one, and ensured that it worked to the level of efficiency that he wanted. Of course, he had some questions come his way when it came to the gunpowder, but it wasn’t too complicated to deal with without revealing too much of his plans.
There were some potential adjustments he could make for the ammunition, though at the moment, his single use cartridges would work fine for now, even if they took some time to make. Beyond that, he was happy to have fully adjusted to Equestrian tools. And due to some kind of enhancement, shaping metal was drastically easier than it was when he worked with his uncle.
Shawn sighed as he rubbed the back of his neck. He missed them, but he couldn’t let that stop him. He needed to ensure forward momentum, no matter the price he’d have to pay. In a world like this, stagnation would kill him, either mentally, or physically again.
“Are you fine tuning those blueprints again?” Storm Hammer cut in. “You already made a cannon for the hoof. How much worse can you make it?”
Shawn blinked out of his thoughts. “Plenty worse, actually. But I don’t plan on doing that. This is already enough, given the world.”
“How could you make that worse?”
“Imagine it being able to fire multiple times before you need to load it again,” Shawn remarked with a small smile.
“That sounds devastating,” she noted.
“It is.” He sighed. “War is something we know well. For now, though, it’s self defense. I want to make sure they can fully defend themselves from anything, even magic and flying opponents. Magic will be tricky if barriers are made, however.” He scratched the side of his head in thought.
“I’d memorize those, then hide them then. Or burn them if you trust yourself.”
‘I trust myself, but I’ve also done something that most won’t recognize from just glancing at it.” He gestured to the blueprints, which were covered in a series of textual blurbs that Storm Hammer couldn’t even take a guess at the language. On top of that, she was certain there were additional parts that weren’t on the final product.
“All smiths use obscure languages or ciphers in their plans. Doesn’t mean it’s one hundred percent.” She shrugged.
“Yeah, but if you build it the way you see it, it’ll detonate in your hooves before it would actually fire.” Shawn smirked. “Wrong scales, wrong numbers, wrong measurements. The correct stuff isn’t written, as it’s all committed to memory. But if someone happens to steal this and try to make it….”
“So it’s a decoy, then?” she asked.
“Correct.” His smirk widened. “I’ve planned for as much as I can at this time.”
“You don’t just want to know if someone’s trying to steal it. You want to send a message to those who would,” Storm Hammer guessed.
“To ensure the safety of these designs, and the safety of my friends, and those under me.” Shawn’s smile softened. “That’s my goal, no matter the cost or risks I have to take for it.”
“Can’t say it’s not a valid idea.” She smirked. “Feel sorry for the poor sod who tries it, though.”
‘If they’ve gone so far as to steal these, it means they’re likely trying to use it against us.” He frowned. “It won’t kill them, but it will at least get them to back off.”
“Well, glad to know we won’t have to worry about Gryphons toting these around. Or worse,” she shuddered, “nobles.”
“I’ve just got to figure out a way to deal with magic next.” Shawn hummed. “But it’ll come after I make the others and I’ve got a better understanding of how magic works in this world.”
“Yes, but first you're going to take a few days off,” she said simply. “You’ve been spending day in and out in this forge for weeks.”
“I can’t.” Shawn frowned. “I’ve got to finish at least the one for Taze within the near future.”
“And you can work on it when you’ve had some time to unwind. This isn’t a request. Steel Weaver and I agree you're taking some time off,” Storm Hammer said in a very no-nonsense tone.
Shawn wanted to form some kind of reply, but each possible one felt wrong. Finally, he sighed. “All right.” He started to roll up his blueprints. “Two days sound good?”
“Two days.” She nodded.
“Okay.” He tapped the rolled blueprints. “Well, at least this will give me time to come up with some new designs,” he remarked as he turned to leave.
Storm hammer shook his head as he left. “And people say I'll work myself to death,” she commented to herself.
“Ye’ actually got him to take a break?” Steel Weaver questioned as he entered the forge.
“I made it clear we weren’t asking,” she said. “Seriously, he’s in here more than the two of us combined, and we’re both chronic workaholics.”
“Aye, but after seeing that cannon he made…. Makes ye’ wonder what else he could come up with.” He shrugged. “But, breaks are important. Pull a muscle and you aren’t exactly workin’ anymore.”
“Yeah, and working too much too long makes you sloppy. The things he makes seem like they need precision.”
“Lass, he’s already sleep deprived.” Steel Weaver looked over to her. “He already should be making some major mistakes.”
“Safety first,” she said. “You want him blowing up this workshop?”
“‘Course not. I’m just tellin’ you that he’s already got things that should keep him out of here. I just don’t get how he can keep working like that.”
Extended Holiday Chapter 15: Siege of Snow Hill #233
“Well now, isn’t this a beautiful morning?” Taze commented happily as he looked out at the snow-covered ground while drinking his coffee. The soreness that had plagued his body for the last couple of weeks had finally faded, and the beginnings of tone was working its way into his body as a result.
“Too cold,” Matthew muttered, yawning heavily and wrapped in a blanket.
“As opposed to what, the sun?” Taze asked, laughing. “It’s not even cold enough for a parka yet.”
“It's cold for me,” Matthew grumbled back.
“The winter is the best time ever. You can sled, you can make igloos or have sno-” Taze stopped on the last part as consideration dawned on him. “Oh, Vulpix?”
“Vul?” Matthew asked with a chuckle.
“You think the troops could benefit from some battlefield simulation?” Taze’s mouth split open in a broad grin.
“Taze, we used to paintball in ROTC. Anything that can teach tactics in a fun and non-stressful maner would be a great thing. I don’t think I’m going to join you, though. It would be bad if I get hit by even semi-ice balls.”
“Yes, but I intend to put them against an opponent so devious, so cruel, so completely barbaric in their tactics that they’ve been known to reduce many to a gibbering mesh.”
“Children. Children in the snow are monsters,” Matthew replied. “I should know. I was one once, a long time ago, even if my mother tried to keep me out of it.”
“We all were. Even Shawn, apparently.” Taze snickered.
“That scares me. Shawn as a child?” He pulled himself out of his cocoon briefly to reach for a cup of coco that had been left steaming nearby for him.
Taze drained his cup. “Well, there is a lot to do. I need to gather the foals, talk to the Pegasi, talk to Pinkie, get a bicorn hat,” he said, getting to his feet.
“Taze, the only place that will have a bicorn hat is your least favorite store.”
“This is war, Vulpix. Sacrifices must be made,” Taze said with a face of total seriousness.
Matthew chuckled. “Good luck, then, my friend. I suppose I should pick that as my code name. That would be fun, making codenames for everyone or everypony....”
“I need to get moving. People to talk to, rations to arrange.” He headed for the door with a spring in his step as that grin took on a manic quality. “Fortresses to build!”
“Have fun,” Matthew answered. “I’m going to go put another log on the fire.”
“Should we be worried about that? He seemed a little crazed,” Moonshade commented.
“It’s a cultural thing. It doesn’t matter how cold it got back home, he always had faced colder or deeper snow. I can hear him saying it already, ‘this is just a light flurry.’”
Moonshade just sipped her coffee tiredly. It was too early for this.
“So, what’s a good time to get up for Thestrals?” Matthew asked.
“An hour after dusk.”
“Well, in that case, thank you for putting up with my sleep schedule.”
“Orders are orders,” she said. “The bright light doesn’t help, though. I'll have to send for some sunglasses.”
Matthew snorted and put his head on the table as he struggled not to laugh. At seeing the confused look, he sang out, “I wear my sunglasses at night.” And then the laughter burst from him. “Sorry, it’s just a running gag with some friends who didn’t fall into Equestria.
Moonshade shrugged and kept drinking her coffee.
Meetings between important figures had rules that needed to be followed. Generally, a table and a drink were necessary, usually at least one side having their followers present.
And so it was in the Sugarcube Corner as Taze sat at the table with a milkshake in front of him and a steaming cup of cocoa in front of his guest. Somehow, Pinkie had darkened the exterior. Smooth jazz music played in the background.
In front of him sat Pipsqueak, local leader of the Ponyville Pirates, a sometime ally of the Cutie Mark Crusaders, and the de facto leader for the negotiations. Button Mash, as the one who vouched for Taze, stood not far off, as well as Featherweight, a small lanky Pegasus, and Rumble, a not-so-lanky Pegasus. The CMC stood not far off elsewhere, with Dinky standing closer than the rest. In fact, given her position of standing almost over Pipsqueak’s shoulder, Taze had to suppress a joke about his “girl Friday.”
“So, I’m told you're the one to see about … foal-based winter activities,” Taze said before casually taking a sip from his milkshake.
Pipsqueak shrugged his hooves. “Some say I am, some say I’m not. What’s it to you?”
“Princess Celestia gave me a bunch of chuckleheads to train for the guard. Thing is, these guys are cocky. They all got big heads, and I need some way for them to learn the … horrors of combat without actual combat. It’s been said there are few as fearsome in the field of snowball battle as your people.”
“People say we cause the most trouble, too. You can’t always believe the rumors, you know,” Pipsqueak said as he took a sip of his coco. “That being said, I can’t help but ask again, what’s it to you if we are?”
“You know, given this is a government-sponsored activity, if you were to help me teach these guys some humility, the local weather team might be … ‘encouraged’ to accidentally overload the scheduled snow load overnight. I’m sure Mayor Mare may even agree that the normal educational schedule may have to be … unfortunately delayed for the next twenty-four to forty-eight hours.”
“And this … exercise of yours. Just how long is it supposed to go on? There are, after all, certain obligations that have to be considered. Mouths that need feeding, hooves that need warming.” He paused briefly and took a long pull from his coco before looking at Taze through hooded lids. “Adults that need … convincing.”
“For starters, I was thinking of starting sometime tomorrow morning, probably take five, maybe six hours,” Taze admitted. “All catered by the kindly cakes and Dame Pie, hot cocoa included. Maybe afterwards, we have a little party, parents get to talk as adults are wont to do. Maybe you all get to stay up later than normal. Who knows?” He shrugged. “I can promise rules your parents would approve of, and even a judge.” He winked. “And you know the forts won’t be going away overnight.” He took a long pull of milkshake. “I might even be able to arrange some … royal personages for a time.”
“You see, this all sounds well and good, Mister … Taze, was it?” Pipsqueak leaned back on his chair, and it creaked briefly as he rocked it before leaning forward again. “But, you see, my friends and I, we still have a … let’s say a little problem that needs to be fixed before any of these other things take place.”
“Go ahead,” Taze said.
“There are these two fillies, you see. Beautiful girls. Pretty faces, pretty manes, pretty jewelry. But … not so pretty, uh….” He turned to Dinky. “What’s the word I’m looking for, Dinky?” he asked.
“Personalities.”
“Ah, personalities. That’s right.” He nodded and turned to face Taze again. “Now, we wouldn’t dream of hurting them, but y’see, they’ve hurt some very good people. Some very close friends. And that, … that requires a certain amount of compensation. Call it a return for a bad investment. The teachers, the adults, the ones who’re s’posed to uphold the law, they don’t do anything. Y’see, they can’t, ’cause these girls, they’re smart. They hurt when they know they can’t get caught. But you, you’re the organizer. That means you can decide who gets to join this … snowball battle, as you call it. Is that not so?”
“Unfortunately, by the way this works, I can’t outrightly say someone’s not allowed in. That being said.…” He shook his head. “I don’t put in with bullies. Now, thing is, once this battle starts, whoever is present on your end is in. Whoever isn’t is out.” Taze gave a shrug. “So, supposing you can keep them from showing up before it starts, fuggedaboutit. But hey, you didn’t get that idea from me. Can’t have people thinking I’m irresponsible, can I?” He snickered. “But rest assured, I will not take anyone picking on anyone else in this. You and your compadres and your lady friends, I got your backs. So….” Taze held out a hand. “Do we have a deal?”
Pipsqueak peered toward the other foals. Each gave a subtle nod or an extremely exaggerated one, depending on their level of excitement and immersion in the play. Finally, Dinkie gave a subtle nod of her own, and Pipsqueak turned to look the human in the eye. He extended his hoof. “Very well. We accept.” He raised a hoof. “But this ‘accident’ of yours needs to last for two days after. There’s homework that needs doing, after all.”
“Of course! Of course!” He smiled and motioned toward the sweet counter. “Please. Dame Pie’s been asked to provide you and your people with any form of refreshment you so desire on your way out. On me,” Taze said as he downed the remains of his shake in one go. “Unfortunately, I need to go. Things to do, accidents to arrange….” Taze gave a mischievous wink as he got up, flicked a bit on the table, gave the foals a nod, and left.
The squeals of joy and excitement that followed were clearly not from the gang he had just left. And if anypony were to say otherwise, the foals would immediately deny it. They would also deny the malevolent cackling as the pirates and the CMC began to put their heads together to plan for the unfortunate accidents that would prevent their tormentors from participating properly. And best of all, they had the aid of one of the greatest pranksters in all of Ponyville just waiting for them to tap behind the sweet counter.
“Now then, my little Ponies, gather ’round. We have work to do,” Pinkie said in a conspiratorial tone as she rubbed her hooves together. Then she giggled. “This is gonna be so much fun!”
The clock tower was a relatively tall structure by Pony standards. But since Taze had been running for so long around it and other landmarks in the town, it didn’t take him nearly so long to reach the top. Nor did he feel any particularly intense amount of fatigue, barring the usual experience after a good cardio session. Massive gears twisted, turned, and ground together to manipulate the hands on the clock face outside. The side room at the top of the tower was filled with machinery, baubles, and various models in a curious blend of old and new. But, naturally, as was always the case with any Pony whose cutie mark focused on time, the room was positively overflowing with clocks. As always, time, and the study of it, resided with a very special Pony indeed, one who was currently busy working with one such machine whose clock face was shifting forward at an enhanced rate.
“Excuse me?” Taze called inside the tower.
“Yes, yes. Be with you in a minute.” The stallion bore a brown mane that sprawled in messy points back from his head and down his neck. His fur was a brighter color, almost tan, by comparison. He wore a green bowtie surmounted beneath a white collar that wrapped around his neck, and his blue eyes were filled with a giddy sort of wonder blended with the desire to explore the unknown. He peered intently at the spinning of the device, then turned to a beaker and deftly squeezed a pipette to drop three pieces of rainbow-colored liquid that swam in the solution before spinning and merging together to form a solid tie dye mass that floated inert. He hummed and rubbed his chin in thought. “Interesting….” he mused.
“Hello, Doctor,” Taze said, nodding as he greeted him.
“Afraid you have the wrong building,” the stallion said absently as he continued to peer at the result of his experiment. “Doctor Strange is in Ponyville Hospital, a few blocks down that way.” He gestured vaguely with his hoof.
“Not the kind of doctor I’m looking for.” Taze smirked. “The Lonely God, the Eternal Wanderer, Matchstick Man?”
“I’m afraid you’re confusing me with someone else. Catchy titles, though. Ever thought of joining a band?” He turned around to stare at the human, then gaped. “Now what’s all this, then? You don’t belong here,” he said as he frowned at Taze. “What’s a human doing in this universe?”
“You don’t pay much attention to current events, do you?” Taze asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Well, you know how it is about the present. It’s just so … boring.” The Doctor shrugged. Then his face darkened. “And as someone who’s clearly acquainted with me, I can guess it’s safe to assume you already know my stance on war.”
“Yes, I know your stance, and I know why. I’m not here to get you to kill or anything. Quite the opposite, in fact. I need you and the lady to help me with something. And no, I don’t mean Derpy.”
The Doctor narrowed his gaze. “You know about the TARDIS, then?”
“You could say where I come from, there are stories, stories about a very old man and a blue box who’s sometimes a young man in a blue box. They travel around the universe helping people and saving lives. Some say the greatest question in the universe is, ‘Doctor who?’” Taze noted.
“And I suppose you’ve come here to ask for help getting back to your own universe.” He reached into a small holder full of quills and removed a familiar metallic device that began to hum as it extended and its point glowed blue to scan over the human.
“Nope,” Taze said. “We both know the danger that would put you in, not to mention this world. You’ve got a daughter to think about.”
“Then what do you want, an autograph?”
“I need to create two fully prepared snow forts by tomorrow morning,” Taze said.
“And you’re coming to me for something that simple?”
“It’s for kids? And besides, I’m not talking your average snow fort. Take a seat, Doctor, and I’ll explain what I’ve got in mind.”
That explanation went on for the next half an hour until The Doctor finally raised a hoof to stop the conversation.
“So, let me get this straight. You want me to use my TARDIS to help construct two literal fortresses out of snow and reinforce them so anyone can get inside and trek through them without fear of collapse or any of the other usual risks. And you’re using my own daughter to guilt trip me into doing that?”
“Hey! I’m asking you and the TARDIS. You, of all people, shouldn’t be objectifying here,” Taze said. “I shouldn’t be needing to tell you to have some respect for the old girl.”
“And you should already know I do. Don’t go changing the subject,” The Doctor returned. “We’ve been together far longer than you’ve been alive. Now, will you answer my question?”
“Yes. And? Too small for you? Yeah, it’s not saving a civilization or stopping some interstellar rift, and maybe there are no sapient snowmen to stop or wraiths to imprison, but I’d thought you might enjoy helping something without lives at stake for once. What would the brigadier think?”
“He has nothing to do with this!”
Taze raised his hands and gestured in a mollifying way. “Fair enough.” Then he sighed and shrugged. “Honestly, though, I’m surprised that someone with your reputation would act like this.” He shook his head. “I’m sorry this is so beneath you. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to catch the post office before it closes to get an express message to Canterlot. I didn’t want to have to bother Luna with more than an appearance. They do have scribes to help with dictation, right? I can’t write to save my life.” Taze shook his head as he turned to leave.
The Doctor groaned. “Wait,” he finally said as he rubbed at a temple with a hoof. “I can’t do it with the materials I have on hoof in the TARDIS, but I do know a way.” He sighed again. “Meet me after the blizzard finishes planting the snow. Don’t worry about finding me. I’ll find you.”
Taze grinned. “Thank you, Doctor. For what it's worth, I appreciate it.”
“Just don’t go asking for favors all willy nilly. I get enough of those from a certain Gryphon and his friends as it is.”
“I won’t ask.” Taze smirked as he strode toward the stairwell. He waved casually behind himself as he began his descent. “I’ll see you then.”
The Doctor couldn’t help but chuckle. “Indeed, you will.” He sighed and shrugged. “Guess it was only a matter of time.” And with that, he returned to his work.
Matthew sat by the fire, shivering and bundled in a thick blanket with a steaming hot cup of cocoa warming his hands, much as he had when Taze first left. He looked gratefully to Moonshade. “Thanks for keeping my line straight for me out there. It’s tough to work right when my glasses fog up.”
“Should you really be pushing yourself like that?” Moonshade asked.
“I did this back home all the time with my father. He would have gone around the entire tavern and then some while I was forced back inside.” He smiled forlornly. “Still, he’d be happy with what I did just now. I think it’s the most I’ve ever done on my own before in one go.”
“Probably best to keep things small. We don’t need you collapsing,” she noted.
Matthew chuckled. “I might need an extra set of eyes to help with that. I’ve been known to push myself without thinking.”
“I've noticed that. Taze told me to tie you to a chair if I had to.”
“They’ve never had to do it. But that means they trust you by using some inner circle jokes,” Matthew responded with a chuckle. “Just tell me to sit down and I’ll sit down. You just may have to tell me a few times to make it stick.”
“You aren't worried you’ll push yourself too far?”
“Not really. I think I have a good sense of my limits, but I need outside permission to rest when I need it, because I still try to push myself toward normal folks’ limits. And like it or not,” he sighed. “I … am not normal.”
“Then we’ll have to work on that,” Moonshade commented.
“What part? My stamina or giving myself permission to rest?”
“The Latter,” she noted. “Can’t have you burning yourself out while I'm on watch.”
“Yeah, I just … you might have to order me to rest. That or distract me. Give me a book or a model to work on. That or get someone to talk about history. Those are always good things to pull me out of working.” He took another sip of his drink. “You know, thinking about it now, I guess I just can’t stand to be idle. I feel this intense need to be productive, show I’m valuable, that I can do something to help.”
“No warrior fights forever.”
Matthew nodded. “Yeah, just…. I’ve felt this way my entire life.” He sighed and sipped again. “I want to be helpful, help the family, be useful and not a burden, so … I push myself, do all I can, and sometimes even more. I am a hard worker, just … If I’m asked to do something, I do all I can to do it, even if it might mean hurting myself.”
“Doesn’t mean you need to push yourself too far,” she said. “Sometimes, you need to take a step back.”
“I’ll do my best. With just you, I should get a good view. My mother would baby me, and my father would push me too hard. Mom would yell at him because he wasn’t holding something that I was struggling with, and….” He trailed off into his own thoughts as he stared into the flames, as if they could show him the answers he sought.
“I’m not attempting to do either of those things,” Moonshade finally said. “I’ve seen what you’re capable of. There’s no need to impress me.”
Matthew looked up, startled. “I….” He paused. “You’re right.” He smiled softly then. Pressure from parents and from the rebellious cadets had left him battered mentally. It was good to finally have an ally that saw him for his potential and not just for his weaknesses. “Thank you for listening.” He chuckled. “Sometimes, I just need an ear and time to focus my thoughts. And since the guys have given you authorization, I guess the best thing to do now is make a pact of sorts. From this moment forward, when you think I am pushing it, I promise to take a step back to rest when you tell me to.”
“I’ll accept that for now, yes. But you need to learn to do this on your own, Matthew. I could be reassigned at any time, you know. And your friends can’t keep an eye on you forever.”
“Then I’d better find an Aide de Camp quickly.” He frowned in thought. “Though aren’t your reassignment orders only to come from the Princesses? Or do you mean the nobles can sabotage our efforts by arranging a transfer before the Princesses decide on it?”
“Only the Lunar Guard can reassign me,” she clarified. “Even Shining Armor can’t effect our assignments.”
“That’s at least one concern laid to rest, then.”
“But we’re also the more active guard, save for the border guard,” she noted.
“Could I get access to some of those training manuals?”
“Ours? Maybe. I’ll have to send a few letters to Captain Nightshade. The border guard? No. Absolutely not.”
“May I ask why? As for the night guard manual, if we could get a copy, we might be able to incorporate some of their techniques to help shape up these rebellious cadets.”
“Serving in the Border Guard is such an insanely dangerous duty that many families will hold a funeral before they set out,” she explained. “Everything about them is classified.”
Matthew nodded slowly. “And I’m just an instructor.” He chuckled. “No way I’d ever have that kind of security clearance.”
“I think the only one I know of who’s alive who’s seen it and isn’t still on the border is Captain Nightshade himself.”
“I’m going to guess it’s rare to have folks live to the full tour of this border duty, then?” He frowned. “That … is a volunteer duty, right? Or have there been penal units assigned as well? If that’s considered classified, too, you don’t have to tell me. This is just a new structure in your military that I didn’t know about before, so I’m kind of curious.”
“A single tour pays well enough that it could take most low income families to total stability in a few months,” Moonshade noted. “If you think the creatures we have inside Equestria are bad, you should see the things we keep out. Not to mention Diamond Dog slavers. The guard doesn’t get all of them, but there’d be a lot more around without the Border Guard to catch them.”
Matthew nodded. “Earth has some nasty monsters in our myths, fire-breathing dragons that steal gold, destroy kingdoms, and eat princesses. Sea monsters able to devour ships whole. And with what I see, that is very important. As for what you said about Diamond Dogs? That….” His lips pressed into a thin line. “Slavery is an evil institution that should be abolished from the face of any planet,” he said vehemently.
“Unfortunately, there is only so much we can do. They dig a hundred times faster than we do, save perhaps for a precious few Ponies who have the special talent and skill for it.” She shrugged. “Kill those you can, save those you can. That's what my grandfather always said.”
Matthew sighed. “My nation almost tore itself apart in a civil war to end that practice. And to hear some still do it now just makes my blood boil. Do the Diamond Dogs have a central government or do they function as more of a tribal nation with individual bands?”
“They’re spread so thin that nobody's sure anymore. They haven’t had a king since the Gryphons slaughtered the last one and scattered their society to the winds a long time ago.”
“Maybe we need to do some nation building at some point. A practice my people believed in was that stable nations make for stable borders. But I suppose that’s something that would be far down the road, if we ever have the chance to reach it at all in our lives.” He shivered again. “Say, where is Taze, anyway? Shouldn’t he be back by now?”
“I mean, he did say he planned this all for tomorrow, didn’t he?” Moonshade asked. “Seems like a lot of work.”
“I guess.” He paused to take another sip from his mug. “You think we could go see Rarity to check on that winter gear? I’d like to watch the snowball fight tomorrow.” He chuckled. “Maybe scare some of the cadets into thinking I’m grading their performance.”
“I’m sure Taze would love that.” She nodded. “I don’t know if this plan of his is foolish or genius.”
“When I did my own military training, we used games to train tactics and critical thinking. Taze is just following traditions long in the making. Humans are like otters. We often learn by playing. It allows us to make mistakes without getting killed, so we can be better. We develop muscle memory for moves and tactics, and are able to think of possible scenarios and counterstrategies for those scenarios. It became so popular that we even went so far as to call this method of training war games.”
“I suppose that's something to learn from. Either way, I’m not looking forward to staring down those foals tomorrow.”
“I’m sure you’ll do fine.” He frowned. “I wonder if I can get involved in this in some manner.”
“The foals may need an advisor,” she suggested. “You may be able to help talk them up or something.”
Matthew smiled. “I’d like that. Would surprise Taze; that’s for sure. Can you keep him from learning about it?”
“I can try,” she said.
“Thank you.”
For the sake of the activity, a special cloudbank had been placed over Ponyville to allow enough light through to see without blinding the competitors. The forts that rose from either side of the field beyond the barracks were two grand structures approximately a hundred yards apart. Battlements had been added on either side, along with mounds and mounds of snow waiting to be crafted into any number of devices or weapons. The snow itself had been carefully constructed to allow maneuverability to the foals that desired to take to the field for direct combat. The winds that blew through the area were gentle enough to chill but not enough to push them away from play. Rainbow Dash grinned at the sight as she gazed over the architecture, and Taze patted the walls of one of the structures appreciatively as he assessed the construction. The troops would certainly have a surprise on their hooves soon enough, and he was looking forward to seeing the looks on their faces.
“And so I have become Taze, thrower of snowballs,” Taze said to himself as he looked to the one Pony he’d chosen to act as line officer for this exercise. “You’re Black Rook, right?”
“Yes, Sir.” Black Rook remained stoic and patient as he stared at the human.
“Calm down, man.” Taze chuckled. “It’s just us here, and this is a military exercise and a game.” He smirked. “I hear you're really trustworthy. So tell me, what do you know about foals?”
“Other than we’re supposed to protect them in the event of an attack?”
“You ever snowball fight when you were little?” Taze asked as he placed a cinnamon stick in his mouth.
“Is the sky blue?”
“Then I imagine you remember what foals will do to win a snowball fight?” Taze asked as he looked over the wall to the other fort.
“I’ve seen some things,” Rook admitted. “Done some worse.” A hint of a smile pulled at his lips. “You know we’re gonna get pounded, right?”
“With these idiots? It would be a miracle if we didn’t. The difference is those foals won’t kill them … on purpose. An actual enemy will.”
“... You have put in the proper safety precautions, right, Sir?”
“I’ve put rules in place against using ice, if that's what you mean,” Taze said. “I’ve done what I can.”
“Permission to put the cocky ones on the front line, Sir?”
“I’d be angry if you didn’t.” Taze snickered. “You have to understand, Rook. The idea is that you will see live combat eventually. And currently, when that day happens, less than half of you will survive the first ten minutes. I’m hoping getting beaten by children will start making them think.”
“Given the fact that they’ll be dead and buried quite literally in the snow, I think we can arrange to get that through to them. That or to cool the hotheads, at least.” Rook smirked. “How long do we have to prepare?”
Taze checked his clearly watchless wrist. “Oh, about as long as it takes them to finish eating and get out here.”
“Are you talking about the kids we’ll be fighting or the kids you’re browbeating into maturity on our side?”
“Yes.” Taze chuckled. “Part of my deal involves a cutoff time for foals joining the fight. A couple of bullies apparently need to learn a lesson or two,” he explained. “But also, Rook, the enemy won’t always be obvious and won’t always warn you. You need to be ready to adapt at a moment's notice.”
“Of course, Sir.” Black Rook tapped his hoof and a chunk of snow plopped onto the human’s head. “I understand completely,” he said with a perfectly straight face.
“You can laugh. I’m not gonna punish you. It's funny.” Taze rolled his eyes as he wiped the snow off.
“All due respect, Sir, the last several weeks we’ve been under you have said otherwise.”
“Rook, I punish disrespect. It’s not disrespect to laugh at a funny situation,” Taze said.
“Even if that situation may have been caused by careful manipulation of structural integrity?”
“I let my guard down.” Taze shrugged as he tossed a snowball at Rook’s face.
The Pony sputtered the snow away, then smirked. “I suppose we’ll have to stop there. Friendly fire isn’t exactly the best thing to have in a combat situation.”
“See, now you're thinking.” Taze smirked. “Now, do you think yourself capable of assisting me and Major Moonshade in commanding this exercise?”
Rook smirked back. “Sir, yes, Sir.”
Taze grinned. “Then come along. Let’s whip these Ponies into shape.”
An hour later saw the troops somewhat lined up in front of their fortress as the last of the foals seemed to get in front of theres. Not far off, Twilight sparkle sat in a chair alongside Mayor Mare, Octavia Melody, and Vinyl Scratch, who had volunteered to help fill the panel.
Taze approached the center in a black and gold bicorn hat and a black cloak flanked by Rook on his left and Moonshade on his right. He approached Pipsqueak, who was wearing the fanciest outfit he owned, the dread pirate costume.
“And so we meet on the field of battle,” Taze said, smirking at the foal. “One will win, and one will lose. I take it I have the pleasure of addressing the Dread Pirate Pipsqueak the Terrible?”
“And who might you be to dare speak so fearsome a name with such boldness?” Pipsqueak returned with the gusto and bravado that such a title deserved.
“Oh, child, I be the Captain Kid, and this be the crew I used to take the fort behind me. And by t’under, I’ll be takin’ your fort and your loot before next dawn.”
“Over our dead bodies! We’ll send ye straight to Wavy Bones’ locker!”
“Aye, well I suppose we’ll decide that through combat, won’t we?” Taze gave a one-eyed glare. “And may the best pirate win!”
Pipsqueak drew a wooden sword. “Ready the guns and prepare to run about!” He reared dramatically, and a ray of sunshine poked through the cloud cover to bathe him in its glow before he raced back toward his fort with the rest of the foals. Rainbow Dash casually whistled as she returned the chunk of cloud she’d cleared for the moment before zipping back toward the sidelines to watch with her friends.
“This is gonna be so awesome!” she crowed.
Pinkie Pie emerged slowly from the snow next to her friend, garbed in a rounded pink helmet with camouflage netting. She took a deep breath and sighed explosively. “I love the smell of snowfall in the morning.” Then, just as quickly, she sank back into the snow again.
Taze led his followers back to base racing a hail of snowballs that followed close behind from the contingent of foals who remained behind to cover Pipsqueak and the rest of the group’s retreat.
Black Rook grinned at the sight of the troops as snow spattered liberally over their manes and backs. “What was that about this being an easy match?” he teased the troops. Then he grew serious. “Form up! Get in the fort and let’s get to work! Earth Ponies, get to those snow piles. We need ammo. Pegasi, coordinate reconnaissance and cloud detail. If we need a restock on snow, you give it. Unicorns, if you want to earn your posts, then get to work on forming battlements. Shift off projecting shields to brace against while the others build up the barricades around them. I want to get a bottleneck set up for enemy ground troops ASAP. Let’s move, people!”
And thus began one of the greatest snow battles in the history of Equestria.
On the dawning of the second day, the ponderous groaning of heavy wheels creaked and wheezed with the grunted effort of four young fillies. Applebloom leaned her back against the back of the mighty engine of war as she dug her rear hooves into the slushy path to struggle for proper footing. Meanwhile, Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle yanked on ropes from the front and Dinky used her magic to try to keep the ground solid enough to prevent the wheels from sinking in and leaving the catapult completely immovable.
“Girls, ah need a break,” Applebloom gasped as they stopped for what had to be the tenth time. “This just ain’t workin’.” She shook her head as she worked to moderate her breathing.
Dinky sighed. “I did try to warn you.”
“But it was such a good idea!” Sweetie whined.
“And it would’ve been way cool,” Scootaloo said. “Are you sure we can’t figure out another way to get it to the field in time?”
“Daddy said he can’t help, so we’ll have to figure out another way.” She smiled. “And if you girls don’t mind, I think I know someone we can ask who’ll do it no problem.”
“Who’re ya thinkin’?” Applebloom asked.
“Shawn’ll help. He helped you all when Big Mac’s back went out, right?”
Applebloom’s face lit up with excitement. “That’s a great idea!”
“Not really,” Shawn spoke up as he made his way over to the group. “But, given you don’t really have many alternatives, it seems to be the best idea.” He gave a brief chuckle as he picked up the ropes and began to pull. The machine lurched into life behind him as he furrowed through the ground and pulled it toward the battlefield. “Where do you four want it?”
“Over here, right behind this wall,” Scootaloo said as she zipped to a spot behind some of the snowbank that the foals had built up the previous day. “I can’t wait to see the looks on those soldiers' faces when we hit them with this!”
“It’ll certainly be a sight,” Shawn remarked as he moved the catapult into place.
“Even better if you fight on our side,” Dinky offered. “You can be our secret weapon!”
Shawn blinked as he looked to Dinky. After a moment, he shrugged. “Sure, why not? It’d be some good payback if we could hit Taze with this.”
“Payback?” Sweetie cocked her head. “How come?”
“Long story short, there were some expensive repairs, as it turns out.”
Scootaloo grinned. “Just wait till Pipsqueak hears about this!”
The four grinned and ran to each other, raising their hooves together for a united equestrian equivalent of a high five. “Cutie Mark Crusaders Recruiters, yay!”
And so the trio successfully recruited one of their greatest assets for the coming battle. And they didn’t even get sap on their coats.
The first day had ended about as well as Taze predicted internally. His troops were practically slaughtered in a mass of tiny hooves lobbing snowballs from every possible angle and at varying levels of trickery. Near the end of day one, he had been surprised when Pipsqueak threw up a flag of truce to parley. After a brief discussion, a second day was agreed upon, and it was obvious the foals wanted to prolong the troops’ suffering a little longer. Which led to the current position with Taze standing before his troops.
“So, had yesterday been a battlefield, you all would have been dead. How’s that feel?”
A low and unenthusiastic murmur mulled its way through the crowd.
“Well now, that was almost impressively unimpressive. Let's try it again, with feeling!”
“Not very good, Sir!” The barking replies varied between the cadets, but Taze understood the core sentiment.
“A battlefield is chaos. I know you’ve all been taught about honor and the rules of warfare and other things, but I’m telling you right now, that degrades the second you hit the battlefield. Wars are won by creativity, tenacity, and most of all, luck.”
“So you actually … want us to act like foals?” one of the cadets asked.
“I want you to think creatively. There are few things more creative than a foal who wants to win at a snowball fight. Weapons, equipment, numbers, these can give you advantages, but they can just as easily be rendered useless. Has Matthew ever mentioned Thermopylae to you?”
“The battle with the three hundred soldiers?”
Taze nodded. “Did he explain that those three hundred Spartans killed over a hundred thousand persians in their time there?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“That was because King Leonidas and his people were more creative than they were. How about Waterloo?”
“The one with the boats?”
“Yes.” Taze nodded. “Napoleon Bonaparte nearly conquered most of the landmass he was born on, but his entire conquest was routed by the fact that the duke of Wellington outthought him.” He gazed intently at them. “Your breeding, your training, none of that will spare you if you spend all your time thinking how much better than everyone else you are. I want you to look to your left.”
As one, the troops did so.
“And now your right.”
Again, the troops obeyed.
“The person you saw next to you in both those directions is family now. You all are connected on any battlefield by a common bond superseding tribe, belief, and yes, even station.”
“You’ve been pounding that into our heads basically from day one, Sir,” one of the troopers noted.
“And you still haven’t learned it. You think I didn’t notice you, son of the Marquis de Mustang, attempting to order Earth Ponies to shield you? Seriously?” he asked one of them. “Or you, Snowstorm Thunder, using flight to flee and leaving the non-flyers to fend for themselves?” He looked to another. “Divided, we fall.”
Taze considered a moment and cleared his throat. We few, we happy few, we band of brothers; For he today that sheds his blood with me shall be my brother. Be he ne'er so vile, this day shall gentle his condition. And gentlemen in Equestria now abed shall think themselves accurs'd they were not here, and hold their stallionhoods cheap whilst any speaks that fought with us upon this Snowball Fighting Day!”
Some few were caught in the fervor of the passion which Taze displayed with his oration. Unfortunately, the majority seemed more confused than they were impressed.
“Um … yay?” one of them ventured.
“Well, maybe this will cheer you up. I know their use of Pinkie Pie on the battlefield made life difficult yesterday, so I thought of a little surprise of our own. However, I’m going to require all of you to work with me here.” He produced a small roll of parchment and unrolled to reveal the words Cloud Cannon MK.1 on the top.
“Sir, you’re not suggesting we use lightning, are you?”
“No, but I'd assume clouds would eject whatever they’re loaded with?”
“Yes, but the systems for distributing the snow in large amounts is based in magitech. I don’t know if we can rig clouds to fling snowballs for us if that’s what you’re thinking, Sir.”
Taze pointed to one of the Unicorn mares nearby. “You there! You’re the niece of Count Betawave Blessed, one of the leading names in magictech research, are you not? And their company just did a retrofit of the weather factory in Cloudsdale. What have you got for me?” Taze asked as he signaled her forward.
The mare gazed at the plans. “We don’t have the tech to produce the clouds like we normally would in Cloudsdale. That means we’ll have to rely on what we have on hoof,” she mused. “Most of the technicians in the city produce each flake to load. We don’t have that benefit. The cold temperature is definitely in our favor, but given the lack of tech to use, our best bet to make a functional weapon out of the clouds would be to saturate them with moisture and force it all out in one go, rather than the gentle downpours and thunder squalls we normally plan.” She stroked her chin in thought. “A sufficient enough surge of magic combined with the proper bucking could feasibly produce that effect, but it would be a one-off, essentially converting all of the cloud’s moisture and substance into a single explosive burst. It wouldn’t be snowballs, but it wouldn’t break the rules either. Give me enough time to R&D, and I might even refine enough to actually make the snowballs, too.”
“How long?” Taze asked.
“Won’t know till I actually start working with the material. Different clouds have different compositions depending on the source we get the water from and how it’s processed.”
“Any of you Earth Ponies from the Apple Family?” Taze asked.
The group remained silent and still.
“Very well. You and you.” He pointed to one Pegasus stallion and one Earth Pony stallion. “You’ll be helping her test and getting her the materials she needs. Now then, for the rest of you, who are our stealthiest fliers?”
“Did you want camouflage or speed, Sir?”
“The less the enemy knows of what we’re doing, the better. I’m looking for low detectability.”
A number of paler Pegasi stepped forward, along with one Unicorn, who promptly saluted. “Lucky Cantrip, Sir. I’m no flyer, but I can cast some of the best glamorous you’ve ever seen. If you want these Ponies to blend in, I’ll make sure they do.”
“Okay, you all, this cannon is your main concern. Work together and get it done. We’ll buy you time.”
“Pardon me, Sir, but … I got some plans for the defenses if you wanna hear ‘em,” a Pegasus noted as he cocked his training helmet to the side. “We said no ice balls, but nopony said anything about using ice on the barricades.”
“Now you're thinking.” Taze smirked and rubbed his hands together. “What are you going to need?”
The wild-eyed colt that raced into Taze’s command center was panting heavily and almost completely coated in snow. He carried with him the phoenix down feather that had been provided to each team, one for each side. He did his best to dislodge the clumps of snow that had stuck to his mane and tail.
“Sir!” he cried to the human. “Sir, it’s horrible!”
“What's wrong?” Taze asked.
“Sir, it’s … it’s Lord Shawn! He’s brought a catapult, and the foals are slaughtering the soldiers with it!”
“Has anything hit the cannon?” Taze asked.
“Not yet, Sir, but it’s only a matter of time if we’re not careful. We need to divert their attention toward the field instead. If I might make a suggestion, Sir?”
“Go ahead,” Taze said.
“Perhaps you can parlay with him, find out why he’s there? At the worst, you’ll make a good distraction to the foals while the team keeps working on the secret weapon.”
Taze sighed, but finally nodded his head. “If anything happens to me, Moonshade’s in charge, followed by Rook. No matter what happens, keep that cannon going, all right?”
The stallion saluted. “Yes, Sir!”
The saying goes that war is hell. In the case of snowball warfare, however, hell had frozen over. It was a frigid wasteland that burned from the lack of heat and blossomed pain born of the impact of compacted snow. Worse still was the devious nature which the foals employed in their tactics. As Taze emerged from the fort and into the fray, the cries of medic and mercy melded with screams of fear and great war cries. The foals had quickly adopted the techniques that had been employed by the adults to fortify their own positions, and had even gone so far as to miniaturize them to create ice shields to protect against aerial bombardment. Due to the nature of the defense measure, however, it had been mutually agreed that the shields would only hold for a certain number of hits before they would need to be discarded and considered destroyed by the enemy. Massive snowballs the size of small boulders whistled through the air in great arcs, and the frequency with which they launched spoke either to immense efficiency on the part of the colts or the more likely option, a certain human noble known for the unusual strength he had displayed during his short stay in Equestria.
Taze held up a white flag. “Parlay! We wish to talk!”
A shrill whistle carried over the field, pulling up all the fighting short. As Mayor Mare pulled the whistle back out of her mouth, she nodded to her fellow judges, Octavia Melody and Vinyl Scratch. Then she cleared her throat and called in a ringing voice. “In accordance with the rules, for the duration of parlay, all fighting is to be suspended! As the caller, you have the right to request whom you wish to parlay with, Taze. Who among the foals’ team do you wish to have a discussion with?”
“Send out Pipsqueak and Shawn,” Taze said.
It didn’t take long to set up the negotiation table, courtesy of Pinkie Pie. The mare had already been unleashed on the adults the previous day, and from that point forward was forbidden to participate directly for the remainder of the campaign. Her ability to defy the laws of physics and even magic had been construed as an unfair advantage, especially given the power of her Pinkie Sense. The young foal had decked himself in a tricorn hat and a white shirt with frills over the V-neck. A wooden sword was strapped to his side. Shawn remained in his formal wear, a set of boots to keep his feet warm, and his coat to ward off the chill as he maintained the catapult. However, such finery blended perfectly in this world of pirates and seamen.
“And what does Captain Kid want to talk about?” Pipsqueak demanded as he folded his forelegs together and laid his rear hooves on the table with a cocky smirk.
“Bad form.” Taze slammed a fist on the table. “Bad form, I say, bringing in catapults.”
“A ship has its guns, and a fort has its catapults. I don’t see a problem with that,” Pipsqueak noted idly as he polished a hoof against his shirt. “If there were, Lord Shawn would have objected and kept us from using it in the first place.” He looked pointedly at the lord. “Isn’t that right?”
“More like you would have found a way to take it in either case.” Shawn raised a brow.
“Aye, and ye bring the navy into this, too.” Taze eyed Pipsqueak. “Tis against the code.”
“Not if the code doesn’t cover it,” Pipsqueak noted. Then he grinned, and one of his teeth seemed almost to flash. “Besides, they’re more like … guidelines anyway.”
“I still say a catapult be unfair,” Taze said, keeping an eye out for a signal from his people.
“You said, yourself, that you wanted us to push your troops to the limit,” Pipsqueak countered. “What better way to do that than with real artillery? Shawn’s just here to make sure we don’t break anything or hurt ourselves while we use it. Isn’t that right, Shawn?”
“Correct. And fix alignment if something goes off.” Shawn nodded.
“You realize you’ve opened Pandora's box, right?” Taze asked Pipsqueak.
The foal cocked his head in confusion. “Who’s Pandora?”
“I mean you’ve presented catapults as an allowable step on the battlefield. Meaning catapults and similar things can be used by both sides going forward,” Taze explained.
“That’s if you can get any of your troops to the depot to carry them onto the field.” Pipsqueak smirked. “Then there’s also the time it takes to put them together after you get them in place. Do you really think you can spare that much time and power while we’re attacking your base?”
“Maybe,” Taze admitted. “But first rule of combat, always assume your enemy is smarter than you are.”
“I’ll make sure to remember that.” Pipsqueak smiled. “Any other words of advice?”
Upon noticing a slight Glimmer off a nearby mound of snow that was not naturally occurring, Taze shrugged. “Just be ready for anything,” he warned again. “I guess we should get back to it.”
“If you’re ready.”
“Then shall we say five minutes after we leave the table?” Taze asked.
“Sounds fair. When Mayor Mare blows the whistle, we’ll start again.”
“Very well,” Taze said, standing up.
“And may the best team win.”
The addition of the catapult granted a significant boost in firepower for the foals, devastating many of Taze’s troops and driving them to have to rely on new tactics to avoid being struck by the deluge that was to come. Truly, the end was nigh for the adults.
“Is it ready?” Taze asked of his engineer as soon as they made it out of earshot.
“She’s rarin’ to go, Sir. The water content isn’t enough for us to get off many shots, though. We only have one, maybe two bursts before the cloud will break apart.”
“Will it be devastating?” Taze asked.
“It’ll clobber them, Sir.”
“How long till deployment?” Taze asked.
“We can get it into range whenever you give the word, Sir. There’s just one problem.”
“Yeah?”
“The foals will see it as we’re moving it into position.”
“So I’d assumed. Guessing the fear is they’ll focus on it?”
“One good buck will unleash it, but one good hit from that catapult might break it apart before we can trigger it.”
“Well then, I’ll get Rook to rally who we have left. We’ll attack in two flanking rushes as you position it. Fire when ready.”
“We’ll need aerial cover, too, Sir. How many forces does Major Moonshade have left?”
“Send the word. Get Rook and the major into the command center. We’ll consolidate our numbers and do our best to cover you.”
“Yes, Sir!”
Over on the foal side, one Diamond Tiara and her cohort Silver Spoon were busy helping to distribute coco from a stand they had set up. The problem, they only were willing to offer their wares to Ponies who had already earned their cutie marks, an issue compounded after an incident that led to a certain yellow filly with a red mane getting drenched by a cup.
“Oops,” Diamond said insincerely. “So sorry about that. But look on the bright side. I’m sure a few snowballs will wash that right out.”
Applebloom grated her teeth and nearly lunged for the table before she noticed the stains that had formed over the surface of the table. “Looks like my fur’s not the only thing that needs washing,” she said. “Have fun hawking that coco. I’m gonna get back in the game!” She grinned and charged onto the field of battle, gleefully diving into the snow to make a bee line for her pride and joy, and the human that was maintaining it.
Meanwhile Taze had attacked the right flank while Rook led a combined effort on the left. In the air, Moonshade led a squad to keep them busy. Unfortunately, they didn’t have the numbers to keep all the foals’ attention. Still, they were trying their best to pull it off. Taze was leading the charge from the front, dodging snowballs before returning fire. They only needed a little more time, but at this point, that might need a miracle.
Applebloom emerged from the snow like a true tunneler next to Shawn as another load of snow was stacked into the cup of the catapult. Pipsqueak turned briefly from the field to call back as he gesticulated toward the sky, where a darkened cloud was being escorted. His orders were obvious.
“What’re they doin’?” Applebloom asked the human. “Why all the fuss over a cloud?”
“Multiple reasons, though in this case, it’s likely because it’s being escorted, and is potentially hiding something,” Shawn replied with a shrug.
Applebloom pursed her lips. Some of the dark stains from the coco could still be seen in her fur. “Mind if I line up the next shot?”
Shawn raised a brow before shrugging. “Sure. Still remember how it’s done?”
Applebloom nodded. “Perfectly.” As the filly began the preparations, Taze shouted over the hubbub toward his friend.
“Hey Shawn, you know what made the catapult extinct?”
“Plenty of things,” Shawn called back. “Which one are you hiding?”
“Oh, just a little invention first used in open combat by the Ottoman Empire.” Taze smirked. “They called it the basilica,” Taze Stated. “Find the range!” he ordered as the troops pressed their attack.
“Basilica….” Shawn hummed to himself as he thought the word over. After a moment, he shrugged. “Direct impact of some kind.”
Twilight frowned from her place at the sidelines by the judge’s table. “What is he talking about, Matthew?”
Matthew's expression fell. “Something that…. And they already miniaturized it?” He shook his head. He motioned Twilight closer and whispered in her ear through cupped hands. “Something that was originally thirty feet in length and could take down walls with one blow.”
Twilight cocked her head. “Seriously?”
“Well, the set out there isn’t thirty feet long, but just observe.” He frowned. “Hopefully, I can consult in the bunker next time.”
Shawn turned back towards Applebloom. “Done aiming the catapult? After all, you don’t have too long to deal with their weapon.”
Applebloom grinned. “She’s ready to go, Shawn.” She reached for the lever. “Fire in the hole!”
The cry filled Taze with dread as the aerial defenses dove in front of the cloud in an attempt to save it from the onslaught they were all but certain would come. The arm released, with a fatal twang, and the snow launched in a mighty arc. The shrieks of dismay that rose from the target were music to Applebloom’s ears, and she grinned savagely. “Target destroyed.” She beamed at the sight of the stand that had been buried in snow. Spatters of coco were strewn amidst the pile of snow. Diamond Tiara’s namesake was coated in the sticky brown liquid, as was much of her face and torso. Silver Spoon took it to her flanks instead, having not been directly behind the table at the time the assault landed.
“Welp,” Shawn remarked, nodding to himself, “you’ve doomed us all.”
“It can’t be that bad,” Applebloom said.
“Fire both salvos!” Taze shouted as the boom of thunder cracked the air. A swarm of snowballs shot from the cloud as two of the aerial troops bucked heavily. They rained upon the foal’s fort and across the field with the ferocity of a blizzard and hail storm blended together.
“Yup. You’ve doomed us all,” Shawn reaffirmed.
Before the first wave even hit, a second boom played as more snowballs filled the air. The cannon dissipated into so much vapor, leaving only the vast payload behind. For a split second, the sky went dark over the foals’ base before the dreadful impact began. The cries of shock and death throws surged in a wave of startled fright.
Much like the sea captains of old, Shawn looked with a stoic acceptance upon the onslaught and welcomed his frigid demise as a snowball pelted directly into his face. The human then stumbled backward dramatically as he flung a hand flailing into the air before finally toppling over and letting the cold embrace of his make-believe death take hold. “You’ve … doomed … us … all,” he croaked, holding the last word in a death rattle as he looked to Apple Bloom, then let his arm fall limply to his side as he closed his eyes.
“Back to the keep!” Pip shouted. Rally the reinforcements! Call in the Big Mamma!”
For some reason, that name alone chilled Taze’s blood. “I think winter is coming,” he murmured.
Two things happened next. First, a flag embroidered with a set of beautiful white bubbles rose on the pole of the foals’ fortress. And then, somepony began to cry.
The clouds burst asunder, casting radiant sunlight over the mighty buffeting wings of the goddess of wrath as she descended from on high. Her misaligned golden eyes glowed with inner fire as she spoke in a deadly quiet voice that hissed over the gathering and sent fear into every fighter. In either hoof, masses of cloud swirled, siphoned and gathered from the bank that she had just torn apart, waiting to unleash death on the enemy.
“Who hurt my baby?”
“Men, it’s been an honor,” Taze said at the sight of the oncoming storm.
Derpy Hooves rained tenfold what the cannons had fired. It didn’t matter if her vision was off center. The bombardment was so thick and heavy as to blanket the whole of the guards’ side in a bullet-rain of white powder. Those who sought refuge within the armature of their fortress faced the reality-defying power that was Derpy’s rear as just a few bumps sent towers topling and whole ceilings caving in on the combatants. Of course, this was Derpy. She was never so cruel as to kill someone. But there would be legends told of this day for many years to come. Wo be unto those who should make the bubbly one their enemy, for her wrath was swift indeed.
The battle was definitely over.
The atmosphere surrounding the Punch Bowl and Sugarcube Corner was light and airy as parents and foals mingled with drinks and other treats provided courtesy of Pinkie Pie, the Cakes, and even Berry Punch. A grinning Mayor Mare approached the humans as they nursed their wounds and warmed themselves with coco and other hot drinks.
“Well, that was an incredible performance, gentlemen,” she praised. “I haven’t seen this much entertainment at the town since the Summer Sun Festival.”
“I’m glad you approve.” Taze gave a short bow. “Seems like a good time was had all around.”
“A good time is an understatement. Barring that incident with Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon, every foal has been raving about how much fun this battle of yours has been. The cunning, the strategy, the ingenuity and intrigue. It’s more fun than watching a sparring competition at Canterlot, and that is saying something.” She beamed at the trio. “And because of this fact, I would like to submit a little proposal to you three. Most particularly to you, Lord Shawn.”
“Oh?” Shawn hummed questioningly.
“With your permission, I would like to make this event Sir Taze planned into an annual affair, complete with codified rules of engagement and themes as organized by delegates from Ponyville and you or your representatives.”
Shawn hummed as he thought it over before glancing at Taze. “What do you think? Think you can manage a little annual event?”
“I think I can.” Taze smirked. “If anything, it’s already shown improvement in the troops.”
“Then I believe we have an agreement,” Shawn replied, looking back to Mayor Mare.
The mare grinned. “You’ve just sealed yourself as a hero to the foals in Ponyville for life.”
“That’s a title I’ll take with pride,” Taze laughed.
“I can hardly wait.” Matthew grinned. “I’d love to join in at the beginning.”
“As long as you feel up to it,” Taze said. “I’ll have to start making plans for next year. Maybe three days, instead?”
“That’s something I’ll leave to the committee that’s formed to decide. For now, I think it’s best that you take the time to rest on your laurels. You’ve certainly earned it,” Mayor Mare said.
“Actually, I think I owe some victorious foals a story,” Taze said. He stretched as he got to his feet.
“We may need some braziers to ward off the cold,” the mayor noted. “Would your troops be willing to help us set up the supplies, so the foals can listen?”
“I think they’ll be happy to. Just ask for Black Rook,” Taze said.
“I will,” the mayor promised. “And I’m certain the whole town is looking forward to your story. A few foals mentioned just how good of a spinner you are when it comes to tall tales.”
“A good story can change many hearts.” Taze smirked. “And a great story is never lost.”
“So, which one are you going to tell this time?” Shawn asked.
Taze laughed. “You know me well enough to know I don’t think that far ahead.”
“Says the man who nearly outflanked the foals and buried me in a snow cannon bombardment.”
“Hey, that was the troops. I just gave them a kick where they needed it.”
“Is that so?” Shawn smirked as he took another sip of his drink. The warm cider spread that tingling through his system to help ward off the chill with the sweet tang of the fruit blended with just a hint of cinnamon for flavor.
“If you really want to get them hooked, you could always try reading one of the books we brought from Earth,” Matthew suggested.
“Not good at dramatic reading.” Taze shook his head and tapped his temple. “Store them up here and work from there.”
“Well, you’d better think fast. It looks like they’re using Spike to light the braziers. You’re going to have an eager audience before long.” Matthew chuckled as the word began to spread.
“I have it.” Taze smirked. “I’ll tell them the story of the Polar Bear King.”
Shawn raised a curious brow. “Don’t think you’ve mentioned that one before.”
“Probably not. It’s based off an old movie I watched as a kid.”
“Is this going to be a saga?” Matthew asked.
“Possibly.” Taze shrugged. “We’ll have to see how the parents think.”
“After the two days of fun you just gave their kids, I wonder if they’ll even care.” Matthew chuckled. “That snowball fight was legendary.”
“Good.” Taze smirked. “Then they’ll remember it. That’s what's important to me, giving them some good memories.” Then he rose from his chair and strode toward the growing waiting throng.
That morning, the humans, Moonshade, and their two guests gathered in conference in their quarters. True to form, Matthew was wrapped in a shell of blankets while Shawn and Taze stood in slightly cooler gear to counter the increased temperature in Matthew’s room.
“Do you really think it’s wise to go to the castle now when there’s still so much snow to clear?” Matthew asked. “I mean, that little ‘accident’ you arranged from cloudsdale buried most of the usable roads.”
“Matthew, I grew up where worse blizzards than this were common winter weather,” Taze said. “I know how to travel in the cold.”
“Okay, then just for the record, what’s this particular mission going to focus around? Are you checking out the paths? Are you planning to enter the castle itself? What did you have in mind? And how long were you planning to be gone?”
“Checking out the path there, yes. Also noting the wildlife we may encounter. I’ll probably do a short look inside, just to be sure of the condition, so we’re not bringing several dozen Ponies into a situation we know nothing about.”
“Just make sure to be careful about timberwolves. We don’t know whether winter will put them into a hibernative state or not.” He frowned, then turned to Moonshade. “Does winter affect that particular species?”
Moonshade shrugged. “I wouldn’t be the one to ask.”
“Is there anyone we can before Taze goes into the forest, or have you already done that research yourself, Taze?” Matthew asked.
“According to the locals, they’re always active, like real wolves, but I don’t think they’re as much of a threat as we’ve been led to believe,” Taze noted.
“It is still not advisable to go alone,” Mutatio spoke up. “This is the castle of the two sisters, after all. A hive is always changing, always able to deter intruders and mislead them. Your structures need a different way to protect when breached or infiltrated. I believe you call them … traps?”
“I’ll get Black Rook to come along,” Taze said.
“That’s a start,” Shawn spoke up as he reached inside his coat. “Given your current plan, I’ll add on something to help act as a deterrent.” He pulled out an additional flintlock pistol and offered it to Taze. “Even if you don’t hit, most creature's will be wary of the bang.”
Taze’s eyes widened as he took the weapon gingerly. “Wow. You’ve been busy.”
“Once I was able to get back into the forge, I started work again.” Shawn reached into his coat and pulled out a pouch and holster for the flintlock. “You’ll have to adjust the straps, but it should work well for you.”
“I appreciate it,” Taze said, reaching for the holster.
“I’m still unsure of the significance of these weird shaped objects. Are they magical?” Moonshade asked.
“To explain it simply, these are what we used in place of magic, bows, and crossbows for ranged defense,” Shawn started. “Quite a complex device, but its whole purpose is almost the same. You don’t want to be in melee range, so you use it.”
“It doesn’t seem all that dangerous,” Moonshade commented.
“Are you aware of how a locomotive steam engine works?” Taze asked.
“Not particularly,” Moonshade responded.
Taze sighed and looked to Matthew expectantly.
“You need to heat up the water in a tank in the engine. Once you do, that water eventually turns to steam. The Steam will go through pipes and drive the wheels forward with the pressure that is produced by that steam. This stream will eventually turn back into water, but some of it will escape. That is why steam trains always stop at water towers to restock. The more steam it produces, the more powerful the load the train engine can take and the faster it can go. Now imagine all of that buildup occurring faster than a blink, and that same force that moves the engine at full speed pushing out ammunition in one go, faster than a crossbow bolt, and with more durability.”
“Basically, we harness that kind of power to send a projectile out.” Taze adjusted the holster. “I take it these are the extra cartridges?” he asked, holding up the pouch. “Bite and pour?”
“Just make sure the arrow on the cartridge is facing the right direction. It points into the barrel.” Shawn nodded.
“Okay, I’ll be working on getting everything ready, probably head out by tonight or early tomorrow,” Taze replied..
“I’d recommend going during the day.” Shawn frowned. “Given the unknown terrain, adding on the inability to see would make things way more complicated.”
“Either way, I’ll be working on getting gear together today. So probably be gone tomorrow.”
Shawn nodded, “I’d say keep us updated, but we don’t really have a method of contact.” He sighed.
“I’ll be fine. Just a couple days out in the cold. It’s not a big deal,” Taze said.
“Just like home, I’m guessing?” Matthew teased.
“Cold weather, tall trees, dangerous animals no more than a hundred yards away?” Taze smirked. “Pretty much.”
“Master sergeant!” Taze called out as he entered the camp area.
Black Rook jerked to attention immediately, a shovel gripped in his hooves as he tossed the snow out of the perimeter of one of the building sites. He quickly embedded the shovel in the snow and saluted the human. “Sir!”
“How would you feel about taking a trip for a few days with me on a scouting mission?” Taze asked him.
“I wondered when you planned on going in there.” Black Rook nodded. “I’m game, Sir.”
“Okay, then. We’ll probably be leaving first thing tomorrow. Not to treat you like a beast of burden, but would you mind pulling a cart?” Taze asked.
Rook smirked. “You do realize that’s a large part of Pony work, right?”
“Hey, I may be your superior, but it doesn’t mean I'm going to assume you're gonna do the work. You’re a soldier, not a slave, after all.”
“You … do realize you’ve been ordering us to do work for the last several weeks, right?” Rook pointed out. Then he chuckled.
“I’ve been working to make your bodies fit for what's ahead of you. This is different.”
“Fair enough.” Rook shrugged. “So, I’m guessing we’ll need to requisition a tent or two, stakes, some rope and a grappling hook, some rations. Anything else you need me to grab?”
“No. I’ll take care of the food and whatnot. You take care of the gear, okay?”
Black Rook nodded. “I’ll see it done.”
“Make sure you have an active weapon with you, just in case.”
“So, let me get this straight, Sir. You can smell when the weather is going to turn?” Black Rook asked in disbelief as they trudged along the forest. The path, or what little remained of it, was bumpy and riddled with divots, brush, nettles, and other obstacles. The frozen ground made it even harder to navigate at times, but at least the snow drifts were no longer a concern. Taze had no choice but to ford a path through to the forest for their wagon and Rook to get by.
“Yeah.” Taze shrugged. “It’s a trait I kind of picked up while fishing with my dad.”
“How does that even work?”
“It’s hard to explain.” Taze shrugged. “Certain changes in the atmosphere can be detected by scent.”
“Okay, so what’s it supposed to smell like?”
“When we all get settled in the Everfree, I’ll do my best to show you, okay?”
“Not the words I would’ve picked, but I think I get what you mean.” Rook cracked his neck. “So, how far does the map say we have to go before we reach the castle?”
“We have another few miles yet,” Taze said.
“Good. That means we get to know each other better.” Rook smirked. “Okay, you answered my question. Time for you to ask me about something from my life.”
“How’d you end up a guard?” Taze asked.
“You ever run a farm before?”
“No,” Taze admitted.
“It’s hard work. Honest, good labor, but even if things turn out just right, they can still go bad when the bills come due. I’m what you might call the cushion for the family. When times get tough, the money I save goes toward keeping things afloat till next season.”
“That's respectable,” Taze said.
Rook nodded. “Don’t mean I don’t care. It’s just what helped push me over the edge to do it.”
“So, you hit a noble for being an ass?”
“No, I hit a fellow guard.” Rook smirked. “He just happened to be a noble before he enlisted.”
“Meh. You stood up for yourself. There’s no shame in it.”
“I kind of figured the same. I was taught to get straight to the point. Farmers can’t afford to cut around the bush unless we’re pruning.”
“Fair enough,” Taze laughed. “So, they benched you for that?”
“They made up a few other excuses.” He shrugged. “In the end, looks like I got the better deal.”
“Yup, because you got the better brain cells.”
“Or Faust decided to smile on me. Maybe Sleipnir, too. He is the god of war and battle, after all.”
“Eh. God helps those who help themselves.”
Rook cocked his head curiously. “Where’d you hear that?”
“It’s a saying from back home,” Taze explained.
“So you have a god of your own that you worship, too. I guess that makes sense. If we have our gods, you all must have yours, too. So, why don’t you tell me about your first big hunt?”
Taze smirked. “Well then, there was this one time I….”
Shawn hummed to himself as he wandered the grounds of Ponyville. After his usual stop at Sweet Apple Acres, he was left with nothing to do for the day. Thankfully, he carried funding on him, so a stop by the market was always available, especially given the rotating stock.
Though most of the stalls were food based, he did come across several notable tradesponies, one of which appeared to specialize in metal. Most of it was scrap of some kind, but there were several ingots of different metals about the stand.
After briefly thinking it over, Shawn walked to the stand and began looking over the ingots for anything worthwhile. Eventually, his eyes settled on a set of dark orange ingots, and after thinking over the fantasy metals he knew about, he waved over the one running the stand. As soon as he arrived, Shawn pointed towards the orange bars and asked, “Are these Orichalcum?”
“You’ve got a good eye. Not many folks ’round here know about that metal. Comes from the far south,” the small steel-gray Unicorn said. “It’s hard to shape, but strong, and it doesn’t rust.” he noted. “Also has great enchanting properties.”
“How much are you charging per ingot?”
“Twenty-five bits. That’s the best I can offer.”
After a brief moment, Shawn nodded. “Okay, I’ll take them.”
“How many?”
“Every ingot you’ve got of it.”
The stallion burst into a fit of laughter. “That’s a good one, friend,” he said as he wiped a tear from his eye. “But seriously, how many do you want?”
“How many do you have?”
“I have sixteen in stock.”
Shawn took hold of two of his pouches around and placed them on the table. “Like I said. All of them.”
The Unicorn’s jaw dropped at the sight of all that gold in one place. “Where did you…?” Finally, the Pony shook his head. The where was not important. He knew that better than anyone. He levitated the coins with his horn and started counting the bits. “Did you want me to deliver them for you, Sir?” he asked, even as his eyes darted quickly over each new coin that he stacked.
Shawn hummed as he took hold of one of the ingots and tested its weight. “They aren’t that heavy, so if you’ve got a durable bag large enough, I should be good.”
“For you, Sir, anything.” A heavy sack levitated from behind his stall and into the human’s hands. “Just a few moments more, Sir. I just have to make sure we have exact change.” It didn’t take too long for him to finish, leaving sixteen glittering stacks of twenty-five bits each holding over a patch of his counter. He nodded and levitated the ingots into the bag for the human, then levitated the remaining bits from the pouches toward Shawn. “Here’s your change, Sir.”
Shawn took the change and returned it to one of his pouches. Afterwards, he took hold of the sack of ingots and tested the weight once again before nodding and hefting it over his shoulder.
“Is there anything else that I can do for you today, Sir?” the Unicorn asked eagerly. In the stalls nearby, Ponies had begun to stock wares of much higher quality, and their eyes seemed almost to glow with golden bits for pupils before they blinked. Then their eyes were normal again, though their manner was far more strident as they worked to hawk their wares while glancing toward the human between customers.
“Perhaps. But, that’ll be for when I return. Need to hand these off first.”
“If you need directions, I know a smithy nearby that would love to take you on as a client.”
“Oh, no. I’ve got someone. Thanks, though.”
The marketplace gaped at the human’s strength as he easily hefted the bag over his shoulder. They would have expected such strength from a Minotaur, but not from a being so much shorter and less muscled. Shawn whistled to himself as he turned and bade the trader farewell with a brief two-finger salute. That was quite the haul, and he was very much looking forward to experimenting with the new material.
Matthew sighed as he looked over his stock of bolts. “I suppose I should see about getting something new. Taze isn't sure which of the old bolts had what on them when he treated them in the first place, and I don’t want to risk accidentally killing someone when I only want to slow them down.”
“That is probably for the best.” Moonshade nodded.
“You know a good place around here where I can buy some new weapons at a discount?”
“This is more of a farmer town,” she pointed out. “Weapons aren't exactly a priority.”
Matthew frowned. “That is a problem,” he admitted. “Maybe I can talk to Berry. If anyone might know where to look, it’s probably her, right?”
“Maybe. It will be easier when the smiths are more set up and Canterlot can send us a fletcher.”
“Well, I guess in the meantime, we might as well see what we can dig up.” Matthew stretched and slowly pulled on his winter gear. “Mutatio, Me-Me, we’ll need the two of you to stay here while we’re gone. It shouldn’t take us too long to find what we need to know.” Lastly, he reached into the chest and placed a number of bits into a sack.
Mutatio nodded. “We will await your return. What will be your passcode this time?”
Matthew smiled and rapped on the wooden floor, singing along. “Shave and a hair-cut. Two bits.”
Mutatio cocked his head. “That is a … strange song.”
Matthew chuckled. “Humans are a strange people sometimes. It isn’t always fun to make sense.” With that, he waved his farewell to both Changelings and strode out the door followed by Moonshade. It didn’t take them long to get down the stairs where Berry manned the counter as she always did. “Hey, Berry, I find myself in need of some bolts for my crossbow. Do you know anywhere that might sell those kinds of things around here?”
Berry shrugged. “We don’t really have much of a need for weapons around these parts. Most of the creatures in the Everfree stay there. We’re not really sure why. I guess you could try some of the traders. Though after the snowfall, I’m not sure how many of their stalls will actually be open today.”
“Where would I find them normally?”
“They usually set up on the edge of town or in the square, depending on what Mayor Mare allows.”
Matthew smiled. “Thanks, Berry. One last question before we go.” He fished out a couple of coins from his bag. “Got something that can help keep me warm while we’re walking out there?”
Berry smirked as she eyed the human up and down. “I reckon I can think of something.”
Matthew’s breath steamed in the air as he sighed in contentment before closing the flask Berry had provided for him. He’d promised to return it, and he had every intention of doing so, but he had to admit that these Pony enchantments really were something else to maintain the temperature so well. “Moonshade, thanks for coming with me. I may be a good shot, but when it comes to quality and types of crossbow ammunition, I’m not nearly so experienced. If there’s anything you can help teach me while we’re shopping, I’ll be happy to learn.”
“We’ll have to see what's available first, and I'll see what I can point out.”
Matthew nodded, then shuddered. He wasn’t sure whether it was a natural response to the cold or the sheer horror at the grins that all seemed to be directed toward him. “Please don’t tell me I just stepped into Stepford Wives,” he muttered to himself.
The market was like the perfect storm. As they strode along the streets, Ponies practically vibrated as they gazed after them. Finally, the first of the stall workers broke with their cries, and the rest soon followed. The resulting cacophony was akin to an avalanche of sound as stall owners vied for Matthew’s attention with fervent zeal.
“Is this normal behavior for these kinds of markets?” Matthew yelled.
“No,” Moonshade replied. “Not unless they smell money!”
“That’s a thing here?”
“Not literally.” She snickered.
“You do realize you’re talking to a human who never knew real magic until he fell into Equestria, right? For all I know, that actually could happen.” He sighed as they ducked behind the stalls and waited for the fervor to cool down. “I’m going to take a wild guess that Shawn must have been here, then.”
“I suppose he must,” she agreed.
“Give me a second to get my heart back under control, and then we can get back out there. There’s got to be someone willing to give us directions.”
A few minutes later, the two were standing before a stall that had a butter-yellow Pegasus mare with a green mane for a proprietor. It had taken some convincing for the various traders to calm down, but the pair finally got the directions they needed to get what they were looking for. Sketches of various bows and arrows were proudly displayed, pinned against fluffy white clouds.
“H-hello,” the mare greeted. “I’m Feather Flight. How can I help you today?”
“I’m looking for some replacement crossbow bolts for this model here,” Matthew said as he produced the bow in question. “Would you happen to have any in stock?”
Feather Flight peered over the bow carefully. “This is government issue,” she noted. “The guard doesn’t let go of these easily. Then again, I see you have a guardspony in your party.” She frowned and rubbed her chin in thought. “I don’t have many military-grade quarrels, but I might be able to give you the next best thing.” She rummaged around her stall for a time, then finally pulled a small box from one of the many clouds that adorned her stall and placed it on the counter before pulling it open. “These are Gryphon hunting bolts. Most use a unique kind of bow that is designed for strength and speed at a larger size, but their training bows produce arrows that are suitable for younger cubs. They should also work for your crossbow.”
“May I?” Matthew asked as he gestured toward the box.
“Certainly. Just one, please.”
Matthew nodded and removed one of the arrows. First, he compared it to the groove to ensure the guide would fit. Then he tested the length against the cocking of the mechanism. Finally, he braced the arrow and locked it in place with the string to line up a proper shot. Feather Flight quickly produced a target and placed it for the human, who proceeded to aim and fire. The bow released with a loud thok, and the bolt whizzed through the air, striking just a hair’s breadth outside of the bullseye. Matthew whistled at the sight when Feather Flight carried the target back.
“If you like them, I can also throw in a fletching kit to help you maintain them or refurbish any used ones that you purchase in the future,” the mare offered helpfully.
Matthew nodded. “How many in a bushel and how much?”
“These are more unique items, but since they’re refurbished, you can buy five bolts for five bits. The kit itself will cost you twenty bits.”
Matthew nodded. “I’ll take twenty bolts, then, and the kit.”
Feather Flight was as gentle as her name as she drew up the purchase and bundled Matthew’s package together. “I trust your friend can help you learn how to use the kit if you don’t already know. But if you have any problems or need some direction, I’ll be here for a few more days before I have to move on.”
Matthew nodded as he handed her the coins. “Thank you for your help.”
She smiled. “Any time.” Then her eyes widened. “Oh, I almost forgot.” She quickly swept behind her counter and emerged with a leather belt bound around two tube-like protrusions. “A crossbow isn’t any good without a quiver to help reload.” She passed them to Matthew. “Take it as a gift for your service.”
Matthew blinked in surprise. “I, uh … thank you,” he finally managed to say.
“You two take care now!” Feather Flight smiled and waved as she gathered her materials and bits and returned them to various hiding places among her stall.
Matthew smiled as the two strode away together. “Well, that was a lot more productive than I thought it was going to be.”
“Yes, well sometimes you find a break.” Moonshade laughed.
“I guess karma wanted to be nice after all the yelling and screaming from the other stalls before,” Matthew agreed with a chuckle. As the two continued to walk, the light of the sun’s rays refracted off a display full of devices that Matthew had never expected to see in a medieval setting like this, and yet there they were. A brown Unicorn was busy servicing one of the devices, adjusting the lens and polishing its surface with a cloth. “Cameras,” Matthew breathed.
“Unusual to find them being sold so openly,” Moon shade commented.
“Are these common in Equestria?”
“What exactly?”
“Cameras. You said they aren’t usually sold so openly.”
“Not these kinds,” she noted. “Most of the time, they’re larger and require proper training.”
Matthew nodded and stroked his chin. “I’m a little low on bits now, but I think I might want to come back later to buy one. You never know when it might come in handy, and it’ll be good to have a visual record of our time here to bring home again.”
“You know how to use one?”
“Oh, yes. We’ve had cameras in our world for nearly two centuries.”
“How far away are we?”
“From Earth? Who knows?” He chuckled. “As for the difference in technology, I won’t know the equivalent until I actually look at the stock and compare. Even then, I can only assume yours must have at least some form of magical component to them. Ours are purely technological in nature, so it may not be a totally accurate comparison.”
“I suppose.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll still give it my best to compare,” he promised. “Who knows? If I buy one, maybe we can have a little fun afterward.” He smirked. “Tell me, Moonshade, have you ever heard of something called a selfie?”
“You know, I’m not seeing the reason why everyone’s so terrified of this place,” Taze said as they walked along past gnarled and withered branches and trunks. “Reminds me of back home when we used to haul wood.”
“Most Ponies fear it for its unpredictability. We like order and peace. The Everfree doesn’t. It’s the scar that mars Equestria.”
“Do you guys tell the microbacteria in the soil when to undergo mitosis?” Taze asked. “Or tell the cells in plantlife what rate they propagate?”
“The … what and the what?” Rook cocked his head in utter confusion as he scrunched his brow together.
“Nature is a much more involved process than you realize.” Taze chuckled. “You’re not in control, even when you think you are.”
“Pretty sure most magic folk wouldn’t agree with you,” Rook pointed out. “But, then again, that’s never stopped you before. Or so I’ve been told.”
“Look, if you grow crops in a field for too long, it starts to give less food, right?”
“Not for a long time. I don’t know what it was like for you on Earth, but we don’t have to rotate crops often here. Usually once a decade or so.”
“Still, you know why?”
“The land’s alive just like the rest of us. Sometimes, you’ve gotta give it a rest.”
“Yes, because the soil’s full of tiny things you can’t see that give it the ability to help plants grow. Not everything is about magic.”
“Are we talking bugs and worms or something else?”
“Smaller,” Taze said.
“Smaller than that?”
“Yup. Too small to be seen with the naked eye.”
“I don’t know if I’m going to be able to believe that until I see it,” Rook admitted.
“I’ll check. Twilight sparkle probably has a microscope we can use somewhere.”
“What’s a microscope?”
“A device for looking at very very tiny objects.”
“So, like a magnifying glass?”
“Just more powerful.”
Rook nodded. “All right. I’ll take you up on that sometime.”
“Hey, it's always good to keep learning.” Taze chuckled. “To stop learning is to die.”
“I thought dying was to die.”
Taze raised an eyebrow. “Was that a joke?”
Rook smirked as he picked up his pace. “You tell me.”
Shawn hummed a tune to himself as he made his way over to the forge. Once he stepped inside, he was greeted to the sight of just Steel Weaver at work. “Storm on break?”
“Aye,” Steel Weaver replied as he put down his current project. “What brings you by, lad?”
Shawn smirked. “I bring gifts.”
“Oh now?” Steel Weaver turned his attention fully over to Shawn. “It’s not even my birthday.”
Shawn placed the sack of ingots on the nearby workbench and pulled out one of the bars. “Orichalcum, in particular.”
Steel Weaver took one of the ingots and began inspecting it. “Aye, that certainly is. Difficult stuff to get at the capital, primarily because they kept saying it wasn’t economical, all because the equipment it’d make was out of their range and not shiny enough to keep their attention. How’d you get it?”
“In the market. There’s plenty of tradesmen who look like they’re from out of the area. There’s still some other materials in stock, but these grabbed my attention.”
“Figures they would,” the smith chuckled. “They’re great for heavy equipment in particular. How much were they?”
“Around twenty-five an ingot.”
Steel Weaver hummed as he thought it over. “Yeah, that seems about fair price. Actually, it’s near the lower end of it, so you got lucky there.”
“Sounds like it was worth it, then.” Shawn gave a small smile. “Well, go ahead and use them for your own projects. Save a couple for me to look over, but you’re free to use most of it.”
Steel Weaver looked questioningly at Shawn. “You sure, lad?”
“Go for it,” Shawn waved dismissively as he turned to leave. “Have fun.”
Steel Weaver grabbed a set of parchment and some sketching tools as ideas started forming for what to make with it as Shawn set off.
It didn’t take long for him to arrive back at the market. As he strode along, one mare cried out, “Fresh warm blankets! Great for huddling up by the fire to ward off the cold, woven from the finest wool!” Shawn frowned as he thought back to Matthew and how he’d shivered during the snowball fights. Taze didn’t really have any winter gear either. None of them did. Perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to look for something more practical to help ward off the chill.
A more thorough search yielded little results. Most stalls were selling armor, not winter gear. And even then, that armor was built for Ponies and Gryphons, not humans. This would need a custom order if he wanted to pull it off, and he knew of only one Pony who would be able to do the job right with quality service and a smile. The journey to Carousel Boutique was one filled with the laughter of foals as they dashed along the streets while Earth Ponies worked to help plow away the excess that had flooded the cobblestone square. Fortunately, while the snow was as tall as a Pony, humans could still traverse the drifts without so much difficulty. It took him a few minutes longer to reach the shop than he would have liked, but it wasn’t that much of an inconvenience as he finally reached the door, pulled it open, and entered.
The bell tingled just as it had on TV. And as Shawn closed the door, he heard the familiar voice singing. “Welcome to Carousel Boutique, where every garment is chic, unique, and magnifique. How may I help y—oh my, why if it isn’t Lord Shawn!” Rarity quickly bounced her wavy mane with the flick of a hoof, then lowered her forelegs in a bow. Her smile was wide and eager as she rose again. “What brings you to my humble shop today?”
“Please, no need for formalities.” Shawn gave a smile. “I came by to commission you for something. Three things in particular.”
“Something for your troops, then? Or is this something more personal?” Rarity asked as she levitated some measuring tape from a nearby shelf.
“For Matthew, Taze, and myself. Winter cloaks to be precise. Though I can handle the cold just fine, I’m sure Matthew would appreciate some extra warmth.”
“Does he get cold easily?” Rarity frowned. “The poor dear. I thought the shivering was because he hadn’t had enough coco to drink.”
“Yeah. It’s why I thought it best to get some cloaks made, and I figured you were the best one for the job.”
“I do still have your measurements on file,” she agreed. “Any other Pony you visit would have to measure you and get a proper fitting done after the fact, and that’s nothing to say of the cost for travel.” She tsked and shook her head. “You’ve definitely made the right choice.” She nodded forcefully. “I suppose I should begin with the more important questions,” she said as she levitated a piece of parchment, a quill, and an inkwell over. “This could take a while, depending on your answers. If you’d like, we can discuss the commission over a pot of tea.”
“That sounds delightful,” Shawn replied with a smile.
She led him through the workspace to a small but tidy kitchen. A kettle sat steaming over an open flame, and under Rarity’s magic, a tea set was quickly arranged and set on the table near the breakfast nook, complete with cream, sugar, and honey. “Were you looking for something akin to a uniform or with more of a personal touch?”
“For Taze and myself, personal should be fine. Matthew, however, I know would appreciate it if it were more akin to a uniform.”
Rarity smiled. “Yes, I’ve noticed he tends to enjoy his role as a teacher.” She motioned toward the table. “Please, have a seat. I like to get a proper idea of who I’m working with to get that extra touch. Given how close you three are as friends, I think you’ll be the perfect person to give me what I need to know.” She giggled gleefully and pranced on her hooves. “I can hardly wait to get started!”
Mutatio stared curiously at the small device. A crystal had been embedded into the camera’s surface to provide a source of both magic and of memory. A small lever not unlike the hammer of a pistol acted as the trigger for the device to function.
“And this object can capture memories?” The Changeling cocked his head curiously as he gazed at the camera’s lens.
“Not in the literal sense,” Matthew said. “More like replicate a moment in time and save it for you to look back on later. It’s similar to the paintings that you might have seen in Canterlot before you became independent, only more realistic.
“And this captures memory, how?”
“Like I said, it allows a person to look back on the moment the camera captures. Like this.” He raised the camera and pulled it back from the curious Changeling, then flicked the trigger. One flash of light from the crystal later, Matthew was presenting the slab at the back. An engraving had etched itself over the material portraying the Changeling gazing curiously at the pair. “Think of this like a preview of the actual picture. I’d have to get someone to look at the crystal and transfer the images that are stored there onto parchment or some other medium, but after that, I’ll have a picture of you that I can look at whenever I want.”
“And this … excites you?”
Matthew grinned. “Of course it does. I write journals, too, but having pictures to go with the stories help to make them more real for anyone who reads them, even the writer. Each picture I take will be attached to an important memory that I want to keep. That’s more precious than gold or silver to me. If you forget where you came from, how can you learn from the mistakes? And how can you reflect on the good times?”
“We … do not usually require such things to remember. To a Changeling, one’s memory is all’s memory. We do not need to freeze a moment in time. The song is there for us all to share, and even if one of our number should die, the echoes of their song remain to offer knowledge, wisdom, experience, and important information. They will always be remembered. They will always exist, or at least a small part of them will. You … do not have this?”
Matthew shook his head. “That’s why we have our photos and statues and grave markers. They tie us to our past, the good and the bad. Without them, it would be too easy for people to change or even try to erase that past. I don’t want to forget any of this, and I don’t want anyone to try to take this adventure from me either when we get home.”
“When you return to your hive, your … family.”
Matthew nodded. “Yes,” he said as he brushed the camera gently. “My family.” Even in another world, in a culture vastly different from their own, Matthew had found his own way to tie himself back to those he loved and strive to remember them. He strode to his desk and grabbed his k-bar, another emblem of memory, another tie. The pangs of homesickness struck mercilessly, and he could hear the scrabbling of hooves against the floor as Mutatio stepped back. “Sorry about that. I guess that emotion must be a little bitter for you.” He smiled weakly at the drone and the queen who lay nearby. “I’ll try to keep it in check.” He sighed and looked at the knife again. “Still, I can’t help but wonder what they’re up to right now….”
“Don’t react now, but we’re being followed,” Taze said, not dropping his smirk or his laughter as he slowly reached down and unclipped his holster.
“I’m not going to be much good in a fight if I’m stuck hitched to this thing,” Rook noted.
“Then loosen your harness, but don’t take it off yet.” The dim glow of green eyes flickered dully beyond the scraggly arms of the brush.
“I’ll need your help to do it if you don’t want them to see what we’re up to,” Rook murmured to his companion.
Taze nodded as he dropped back a pace and carefully loosened the harness while making it look like he was checking it.
Taze heard the snap just in time and brought the flintlock to bear. The retort echoed through the area as the ball tore into the pouncing wolf. Holstering the gun, he grabbed his blade and lashed out as another one came forward, the wood making up its being shearing under the blade’s momentum. However the wolf’s momentum carried, taking the sword with it and allowing its teeth to scrape his skin. Growling at the burning pain, Taze checked to make sure Rook was free as he retrieved the blade.
Rook used the cart’s sturdy construction to his advantage, waiting until just the right moment for the timberwolves to crash into it as he escaped for maximum damage to the beasts. He then followed up by snorting and pawing at the earth before charging toward the next assailant in the pack. At the last moment, he turned to the rear and bucked as hard as his hooves would allow, ramming the metal of his horseshoes into the beat’s snout and knocking out its teeth before the shockwave sent branches flying back in splinters. Calmly, Rook drew his sword from its sheath and gazed grimly at the advancing eyes, even as he stomped what branches he could manage.
Taze backed next to rook as he worked to carefully reload the flintlock as fast as he could. “This is gonna be tight.”
“You have no idea.” Rook grunted as he parried one of the beast’s blows with his sword. “They’ll reform, too, unless we can scare them off.”
Taze grabbed a scrap of wood and stuffed it in his bag. “So what do we do?”
“I’m open to ideas,” Rook said as he bucked another wolf. “Some lightning would be nice.”
“You see a horn on my forehead? Cause I don’t see one on yours,” Taze said as he decapitated another wolf. Finally finding a hatchet in his bag, he pulled it out for his other hand.
“Then we’re going to have to break up as many as we can and run. If we destroy enough of them, we should get the opening we need to get out. Since I can’t hitch back up to the wagon, you’ll need to pull it. I’ll cover you. Four legs makes me faster, anyway.”
Taze nodded as he brought the hatchet down before transitioning into a swing with his sword. “Best idea we’ve got.”
“If we can cross water, that would be best. You say you can smell rain. Can you smell a stream or a river?”
“Not quite the same thing. Just get ready,” Taze said.
Rook grit his teeth as claws raked across his armor and he struck a gash in the lower body of one of the wolves. His nostrils flared. “We’re going to have to move fast and hard,” he agreed. “If we can reach the castle, we might be safe. I doubt the princesses would have left it without wards.”
Taze nodded, throwing back a couple more wolves before he grabbed the harness straps for the wagon and charged off. Rook didn’t shout a battle cry. That would have meant dropping his sword and his guard against a pack of very hungry and very fast timberwolves. Instead, the stallion remained true to his word. When he could, he sought to separate the heads from the bodies to try to confuse the creatures and render them less dangerous. The pack continued to race after them, howling all the while as the dark and withered trees seemed to warp into twisted smiling fiends.
“Keep running!” Rook ordered. “We’re almost to the river!” He leaped onto the cart itself and stabbed one of the monsters in the eye.
Taze fired another shot but didn’t check to see if it hit as he pulled the cart onward. A cold bitter wind cut through the air and stung at their faces like angry screams of demonic forces. Still, the pair pressed on. The thickening of the trunks around them helped to narrow the fields of attack for their pursuers, granting a brief reprieve in their mad dash toward the opening on the far end.
“Let’s pray Faust lets us cross!” Rook shouted as they burst through. He leapt off the cart and kept pace next to Taze as his legs churned across the frozen ground. Once more, the wolves were howling and gaining ground. Some circled in an attempt to flank the pair, even as the familiar groaning crackle of ice pierced their ears.
Fortunately for both human and Pony, the ice was thick enough to support their weight, despite their pounding steps and the cold trying to seize their lungs as they ran. When they managed to cross the river, Taze took the hatchet and hacked at the ice a few times behind them until he saw cracks beginning before they took off again.
“Don’t stop,” Rook ordered. The two couldn’t afford to waste breath on long sentences and suggestions. “Bridge next. Won’t follow.”
“Not stopping,” Taze replied in equally short breaths.
The sound of ice breaking mingled with startled yipes, and a grim smile pulled across Taze’s face as the two continued to run. Red droplets stained fur and the ground as the pair continued to run. The snarls of the pack hounded them like vengeful ghosts, spurring them on. As the first of the beasts came into view on the rear, they reached the gorge and the rope bridge.
“Move!” Rook bellowed. The pair pushed the last of their adrenaline into a sprint to haul across the bridge as fast as their legs could carry them. The ropes creaked. The planks bounced and swayed, sending rippling waves along both sides of the bridge as they raced across it like a mallet over a xylophone. Taze could have sworn he actually heard the sound of one, too as they finally crashed on the other side.
Rook rounded to face the other side of the gorge, his sword at the ready to cut the ropes if necessary.
“Don’t need to do that,” Taze panted as he dropped the cart’s bars, hatchet in one hand, sword in the other. “If they come for us, we have the advantage.”
“Kick them down the gorge before they can reform?” Rook guessed.
“Let’s see if they can survive getting turned into splinters.”
Rook grinned viciously.
Matthew stood in front of Golden Oak library with camera in hand. Once more, his hands burned pink as the cold winter temperatures attacked his skin in an effort to render it as dry and brittle as a snowflake. A few good clicks caught the structure from multiple angles, and he couldn’t help but giggle, despite the cold. “A literal tree house. And it’s still alive.”
“It’s a small marvel not seen often,” Moonshade said. “Living wood is something only very skilled Earth Ponies can create.”
“Aren’t trees living wood by definition?”
“Usually, trees die quickly when an axe or blade is taken to them. It takes a lot of skill to make an entire building out of a tree without killing it.”
“And Twilight doesn’t have to prune the inside at all, does she?”
“No. The Earth Pony magic keeps things relatively neat.”
Matthew frowned. “That … actually makes me wonder one more thing.”
“And what's that?”
“Trees need their root systems to stay alive. But doesn’t the library have a basement? How does that work and not impact the tree’s roots?”
“Spatial compression magic.”
“Wouldn’t that kind of spell drain energy from Twilight, though?”
“There are ways to get around that.” Moon River shrugged. “I’m not a unicorn.”
Matthew smirked. “So, you’re telling me to go in there and ask Twilight for a lecture on how all that works while you’re still with me?”
“Oh, no.” Moonshade smirked in turn. “I have other duties, and you’ll be safe in there.”
“I suppose it’s better than being tackled by Lyra,” he agreed. “Speaking of which, is there a reason why we haven’t seen her so much lately? I thought she lived here in Ponyville.”
“She does, but she has connections in Canterlot.”
“I guess she’d have to if she was picked as a bridesmare for Cadance’s wedding,” he mused. He paused for a few seconds, then looked to Moonshade. “You … do know I was joking about asking Twilight for that lecture, right?”
“Yup,” Moonshade said, opening the library door. “Twilight? Matthew was hoping you’d explain how the basement worked.” With that, she proceeded to shove the human inside and wait.
“Twilight looked up from the table, where she’d been looking over a stack of new books, one of which hovered incredibly close to her muzzle. “Hmm? What?” She blinked a few times, then finally interpreted the guard’s words. “Oh, the dimensional compression?” She smiled. “Sure. I’ll be happy to teach you about that. It really is a fascinating subject.”
Matthew sighed and strode toward the mare, even as she levitated another book from the history section of the shelves. Moonshade was nowhere to be seen. “You win this battle, Moonshade,” he muttered. “But the war has only just begun.”
Rook dabbed at the claw marks over Taze’s arm with an alcohol-soaked cloth. “So, was that easier or harder than dealing with the Changelings?” he asked as he swept at the sap and splinters.
“I mean, easier to track them while they’re moving, harder to predict them,” Taze said.
“I guess that’s fair.” Rook nodded as he examined the cuts one more time, then broke out the bandages to start wrapping the wound.
“So, will I ever play the piano again?” Taze asked.
“You have all your fingers still, don’t you?”
“Huh. Wow. That's amazing, considering I couldn't play it before.” Taze laughed.
“Then you’ll play it poorly.” Rook smirked. “You know, you should try to get something sturdier than that leather. Those wolves nearly cut through it.”
“I’ll look into studded leather later. Chain’s too clunky.”
Rook nodded. “All right, let’s see if I cry like a foal or not.” He sat himself down and tossed the rag and alcohol toward Taze. “Maybe I’ll learn to play an instrument, too.”
Taze chuckled as he soaked the rag and held it over one scratch mark. “Ready?”
Rook took a deep breath. “Let’s get this over with. We have a castle to reach.”
Taze nodded and began applying the alcohol-soaked rag to the wound.
Shawn stretched as he exited Rarity’s shop. While he was happy for the conversation, the chairs weren’t exactly made for humans. And while Rarity was a kindly and, as her element indicated, generous host, she also had her own projects to attend to. He recognized the spark of fever that prefaced creativity. And who was he to deny her the chance to give it form?
“Shawn?”
Shawn turned with mild surprise to face a heavily bundled Matthew. His pink hands clung to what appeared to be a camera of some kind. One of the vendors had mentioned something about that when he was passing through the market….
Shawn smiled. “I see you’re out and about as well.”
“Had to pick up some supplies earlier today. Since I was in the neighborhood, I thought I’d stop by and see how the boutique looks in real life.”
“Speaking of the boutique, you should head inside. I ordered some winter cloaks for us, so you should get all the info squared away.”
“Really?” Matthew gaped at his friend. “I … thank you,” he finally managed to say, even as his body began to shake again.
“Get inside and warm up. Rarity will take good care of you. And I don’t think we want to test the physics of being frozen in a block of ice in this world, even if it is magical.”
Matthew nodded. “W-will do,” he said as his body began to shake.
Shawn chuckled as he turned to leave. There was still plenty to explore in terms of the market, and he had plenty of time to manage it. The vendors were more than happy to see his return. And as he strode past each, they worked stridently to gain his attention. Weapons, armor, exotic foods and ingredients, and more were thrust toward him as he walked past, heedless of the other customers that stood waiting. Shawn barely suppressed the frown that wanted to form as the racket continued. Instead, he allowed his face to settle into a bleak mask as he strode past. It was one thing to promise he would return to look at more wares. It was another to endure a gauntlet of voices squeezing him like a vice. Finally, he passed near the trading post’s entrance, where a wider stall displayed volume after volume of books and stacks of parchments, all bound and carefully organized with price tags and other markers to differentiate them. A familiar purple Unicorn peered between two such books that she held before her in her magical grip.
“Finding new material for your library, Twilight?” Shawn asked as he drew near.
“Yup,” Twilight said as she eyed the books. “It’s so hard to choose, though. Should I go with A Million Magical Ways to Cook or Design in Mind: A Treatise on Counter Curses in Architecture and their Applications in Combating Villains?”
“Uhh,” Shawn hummed as he looked over the books in particular. “I mean, Counter Curses seems like it’d always be useful, you know what I mean?”
“I agree on principle, but is it useful for Ponyville? I mean, it’s not very likely for us to run into some dramatic villain here. Not after what happened when we helped Princess Luna, anyway.”
“Fair enough, but it wouldn’t hurt to always be prepared.” He shrugged.
“Maybe I can see about adding it to my personal collection,” Twilight mused as she levitated the volume back toward the seller and pulled the former one toward her, then placed some bits on the surface for the stall’s owner to collect. “I’ve been meaning to build up on some new material lately. And what brings you here, Shawn?” she asked.
“Just wandering about the market and checking what’s avail…able,” he trailed off as his eyes stopped on a unique leatherbound book. The curled scrawl was not the now-familiar characters of the Pony language, but something far older and much more unique. For instead of any language he had ever heard of to exist on Equis, this volume was written in Latin, a language heretofore unknown in all the records he had seen previously in the Canterlot Archives. And a language he had made sure to study in his free hours back on Earth.
He took hold of the book and read over the title a few times to ensure he was reading it correctly.
“That one is the cursed jewel of my collection,” the stall owner said with a smile. His coppery coat glinted dully under the overcast skies above. “As far as I’ve been able to tell, it’s one of a kind, but nopony has ever been able to read it or decipher its pages. I tried to bring it to the princesses in hopes that they might be able to assist me with determining its source, but I could never get an appointment.”
“Praecantatio a e Orbis.” Shawn spoke the title. “Magic of the World.”
The stallion raised a brow. “Legend says that there book’s been around for at least a millennium. It arrived in a blast of light. My grandfather managed to acquire it from its last owner as a bequest in a will. Spent the better part of eighty years trying to figure it out before he passed, and he was a trained linguist. Then again, I suppose if you can read it, it must come from wherever you hail from, stranger.”
“I just don’t know how it could have.” He frowned as he looked it over once more before directing his attention to the stallion. “How much?”
“Promise to translate it, and I’ll give it to you for free.”
“I … think I can manage that,” Shawn replied as he reached to a pouch on his hip. “But that doesn’t mean I’m not paying for it,” he finished, pulling out a stack of bits and placing them before the stallion.
The vendor gaped at the sight of the stacks, then looked up at Hammer Strike again. “You're giving me all of this?”
“You mentioned that not only have you tried to get this translated, but even your grandfather spent eighty years at it.” Shawn gave a smile. “I wouldn’t feel right just taking it.”
The stallion looked to the human, then to the coins, then back to the human again. “Only a noble would carry this much money without a care. And you’re not paying me to flaunt it either. You actually mean it.” He shook his head in bewilderment. “Generosity is a rare trait to find these days, especially in a noble. Allow me to at least repay your kindness with an old family blessing.” He bowed his head low, touching the tip of his horn to the top of one of the stacks of coins. “May your generosity return to you a hundred fold.”
Shawn gave a small smile. “I appreciate it. It’s a shame that such things are rare.”
Twilight was practically salivating as she gazed at the book in Shawn’s hands. “A book of magic from another world….”
“I sense you’re intrigued by this.” Shawn chuckled.
“Shawn, I am literally the bearer of the element of magic. Magic has been the very core of my studies for pretty much my whole life. Of course I’m going to want to see what’s in the book.”
“Well, after I read it over to a point, I may be able to translate it into a blank book. But we’ll see how things look after I determine if it’s good or not.”
“You mean your cursed artifacts don’t give off malevolent auras?”
“That, wh … What?”
“That’s what you meant when you said determine if it’s good or not, right? Whether it was good magic or evil?”
“Your cursed items just … give away that they’re cursed?” Shawn questioned.
“Most of them, yes.”
“What’s the point of them, then—?” Shawn stopped. “You know what? Nevermind. I mean more in the case of what the contents of the book are about.”
“Isn’t knowledge supposed to be shared, though?” Twilight cocked her head in confusion. “I mean, war is bad, but we still teach our histories about it.”
“In my opinion, while knowledge may always be good, it can also lead to wrong conclusions depending on what is revealed. Say, for example, a book about curses. Not about what they do, just a book on how to perform them. While it would be good to know what the curses can do, if it’s just on how to make them, it’s knowledge better left where it was, or at the very least, under higher clearance.”
Twilight frowned. “Normally, I’d disagree, but the Cutie Mark Crusaders have shown us more than once what happens when fillies of a certain age aren’t supervised,” she admitted. “Will you even have time, though, with all the work you have to do with the guard recruits?”
“Definitely. My chronic insomnia helps see to that.” Shawn sighed and rubbed the back of his head. “I’m up an average nineteen to twenty hours a day.”
“You know we do make potions for that, right?”
“Yeah, I tried one in Canterlot once. Didn’t work.”
Twilight frowned. “That doesn’t make sense. Then again, maybe it has to do with your anatomy?”
“Difference of chemicals, body weight, something along those lines, probably.” He shrugged. “In any case, I’m managing just fine.”
“How is only a few hours’ worth of sleep fine?”
“No idea. But, it’s been working so far. For all I know, the whole magic deal might be keeping me awake or something. There’s just too many unknown variables.” He shrugged once more. “In any case, here.” He pulled one of the sacks from his hip and handed it over to Twilight. “Have fun expanding your collection,” he remarked as he turned to leave.
“I can’t take all of this. It’s your reward money,” Twilight insisted, even as Shawn continued to walk. “Shawn? Shawn!”
Shawn just smiled and waved farewell behind him as he cradled his latest acquisition under one arm and strode away.
The weather was still chilly as Matthew pulled open the door to his next stop, the famous Carousel Boutique. True to form, Rarity played the gracious host, being only too happy to greet a new customer.
“I’m so glad you came by, Matthew. Lord Shawn and I were just talking about an order to fill for the three of you. Apparently, you need some custom winter clothing?”
Matthew nodded. “Yeah. It was autumn back home when we first arrived in Canterlot. The winter … hasn’t been so kind.”
Rarity finally noticed Matthew’s hands and gasped. “My goodness!” she exclaimed. “Why, you’re practically frozen.” In an instant, the mare was pushing and fussing over him like a mother hen as she shoved him deeper into her store until they reached a stone fireplace with crackling logs. “Now, you just sit down there by the fire and I’ll whip up a hot water bottle for those hands of yours. The rest of your winter gear might be able to wait, but you clearly need something for those hands before you leave again.”
“I—”
“Ah-ah-ah, no buts,” Rarity insisted. “It would be poor payment for me to let you suffer in the cold when you don’t have to. A whole ensemble takes time to produce, but mittens are another matter entirely.” She quickly levitated a chair over and nudged the human into it. “I just need to take a few measurements after we warm you up. Do you prefer tea or cocoa?”
Matthew shuddered as the warmth of the fire stretched toward his hands and he leaned forward in turn. The room was cozy and comfortable to an extent, though Rarity’s unique tastes left much of the space with a more effeminate touch. “Whichever is easiest for you,” he replied. A subtle prickling stung at his fingers and palms as the warmth seeped into his limbs. A few moments later, Rarity returned with the promised bottle. “Thank you,” he said.
“Any time, darling,” Rarity assured. “The only thing worse than a crime against fabulosity is depriving a Pony, … that is, a person of a basic need if you can afford to help. I’ll have that drink ready for you soon. Once we have you warmed up, we’ll get started on those mittens.”
“Do you think we could maybe make it gloves instead?” Matthew asked tentatively. “Much of our work is done outdoors, and I prefer to be able to use all of my fingers.”
“Mittens first, gloves with the main order,” Rarity assured him. Then she tapped her chin in thought. “You know, I’ve never had to make a set of fingered gloves before,” she mused. Then she smiled. “I’m looking forward to the challenge.”
It didn’t take long for the kettle to warm, and soon the scent of mint and honey wafted under Matthew’s nostrils as Rarity levitated a tea tray into the room and laid it on a small stand to keep warm by the fire. Rarity then used her magic to levitate a large couch into the room and sat on it with a smile that was at once gentle and hungry.
“Now, then, let’s get down to business. Lord Shawn told me you would prefer something with more of a military theme, but I’m not entirely certain what that constitutes to you specifically. Why don’t you tell me a little more about yourself and what you might have in mind? I’ll make sure to draw some sketches, and we can fiddle around while I work on your mittens in the meantime.”
“You can multitask like that?”
Rarity gave her most winning smile as she tossed her mane. “Darling, in my line of work, multitasking is an absolute must.” A set of knitting needles and thread levitated from a back room in the shop portion of the house while a sketchpad, inkwell, and quill joined on an unoccupied portion of her couch to await her touch. “Now, then, let’s get to work, shall we?”
Matthew chuckled as he cupped his teacup in his palms. “As long as we don’t have to go through a whole lecture on the intricacies of knitting and its innovations in fashion.”
“Oh, dear,” Rarity giggled. “Been visiting with Twilight, have we?”
Matthew smiled sheepishly. “It’s not that I don’t like her. She’s just very….”
“She does that more often than you might think, darling. You just have to let her know and specify what you want. She’s doing better, but she does have a tendency to slip when someone talks about magical theory or some other aspect of Equestria she’s studied.”
“I guess I should be grateful I’m not being hooked up to some device in her basement for testing.”
“Please, she would never do something like that without your permission.”
“The fact she might even consider it is still a little unsettling to me.”
“Well, you are Unique in Equestria. It only makes sense she would want to gain more understanding about you. Why, if you wanted to change the subject, you could probably just talk with her about your culture at home. Twilight is always excited by new and unknown things.”
Matthew smiled softly. “Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind next time.”
“Any time, darling.” Rarity smiled as she levitated some measuring tape over. “Now, then, about those hands….”
Shawn sighed to himself as he gave one last look over the market. He had grabbed everything of value he wanted to use, and everything he would need for the next week. As of now, it was simply just a last trip to see if there was anything noteworthy.
Of all the stalls, one in particular stood out for the large tent that stood next to it. The stall itself seemed to serve more like a point of reference to draw customers in. There were no products to be seen on any shelves or pegs, but a series of colorful signs and cutouts shaped like creatures combined with the boisterous shouts of the vendor to catch the eye and the ear with curiosity. A white turban stood on top of his head, and his coat was a light sky blue.
“Come one, come all for the great Azmodan’s exotic pets and familiars! From the common house cat to the fierce roc. If we don’t have it, we can capture it for you!” the stallion called in a Middle Eastern accent.
Shawn hummed as he looked to the tent before curiosity won him over and he approached.
“Ah, I see you are also a stranger in these lands. It is always a delight to welcome a fellow traveler into my humble shop,” the Pony greeted. “I have many a potential travel companion if that is preferable. Or perhaps a friend to keep around the house when you require companionship?”
“Probably best for a mix between those, given my current situation,” Shawn replied with a shrug.
“Then come in, stranger. Let us see if we can find a companion who is suitable to your needs.”
The inside of the tent stretched upward so that even Shawn could stand erect. A number of cages and perches had been set up in various sections of the structure. And much like other buildings, it appeared to be larger on the inside. A two-headed dog barked at them as they walked past while a great hawk let out a screech from beneath its hood. Finally, a radiant warmth and increase in light drew his eye toward the cages and perches, where a proud bird with gold and red feathers stared intently from its perch. All other occupants of the space seemed to avoid its gaze.
Shawn raised a brow as he noted the bird. And though it took him a moment, he was able to realize just what it was. “Now, this one is peculiar,” he remarked as he turned to take a closer look at the phoenix.
The phoenix stared at him with a cold indifference that belied its hot nature.
“As expected,” Shawn chuckled as he continued to look the phoenix over.
Rather than outrage, the bird reacted with intrigue. Those who had dared to enter its domain before had all bowed their heads in respect or fled for fear of offending it when it screeched at them. This one showed neither fear nor reverence, only a bland curiosity. When the human still didn’t move, it pushed open the door to its cage and poked its head through the gap to get a better look at the strange creature.
Shawn raised an arm for the phoenix to perch on, curious to see if it would.
The phoenix cocked its head curiously, then flapped its wings briefly before hopping to the edge of the cage and taking a short flapping leap onto Shawn’s arm. As if some spell had been broken, the many beasts in the tent seemed to go into a frenzy at the sight. Some snarled or cried in rage and alarm. Others whimpered or hissed and retreated as far as their crates and cages would allow. The phoenix looked on almost smugly at the display and casually preened its feathers as the flaps at the entrance flew open to reveal a Gryphoness with a falcon’s head that had blue feathers and red fur along her body. A whip bounced gently at her waist beneath her wings, and thick leather gloves covered both hands.
“Ornery old bird, that one,” she commented in a Phrench accent. “Doesn’t like anyone.”
“Really now?” Shawn asked as he reached with his other hand to gently stroke the phoenix’s feathers.
“Yup. Have to wear a glove just to feed the bastard without clawing at me,” she said, moving some fur on her arm to reveal scars.
“Then that makes this quite strange.” He hummed as he looked at the phoenix once again.
“Phoenixes are strange birds.” She shrugged. “Very selective, though never known one as … annoyed as him.”
“How much is he?” Shawn asked.
“Tell you what? For two-fifty, I’ll throw in a sack of feed,” she said.
Shawn thought it over briefly before shrugging. “Sure,” he replied, reaching down to his waist to pull off one of the final sacks of bits and offering it over. “I’d count it out, but I think he’s comfortable.” He tilted his head briefly to the phoenix perched on his arm.
“Yeah, I'm not gonna worry about it,” she said, throwing a sack of feed onto a nearby table as she stowed the bits.
“There should be roughly three hundred in there. Would it be possible to get a perch and have it delivered to the Punch Bowl?”
“I’ll get someone to drop it off later,” she said.
“Sounds good,” Shawn replied as shifted his arm to have the phoenix move to his shoulder as he moved to exit the tent.
As he made his way back to the tent, he hummed and glanced at the phoenix once more. “Let’s see what I can come up with for a name.”
The phoenix cocked its head and went so far as to give a brief chirp of inquiry.
“Renati,” Shawn spoke up. “Reborn.”
The bird took some time as it contemplated the name and the explanation. It cocked its head left, then right, then left again. Finally, it fixed Shawn with its gaze and nodded.
“Renati it is, then.” Shawn gave a brief chuckle. “Let’s get you to your new temporary residence….”
The castle of the two sisters was a far cry from the glorious structure it once had been. Stone and mortar crumbled as wind whipped through the spires to cry mournfully as it passed over and into cracks like so many blowholes in a pipe. The region itself was startlingly bereft of anything that could even remotely be considered wildlife. Parapets stretched around the courtyard’s structure to afford a view of the forest and all that remained in the courtyard itself, an ideal location to trap enemy forces and rake them with arrows.
A swift examination of the mechanism atop the portcullis revealed chains that were still strong and a locking mechanism that was still functional. It didn’t take long to release the grip and lower the barrier as they peered into the gorge and the dark forest beyond. Green lights hovered like fireflies in the far reaches, but no cry or sound could be heard from beyond. No crows cawed. No stray cats yowled. It was deserted and barren.
The sun set slowly over the dark woods as cold winds blustered. There was no soft earth to dig stakes into, so Rook had to make do with what they had on hand to weigh down the tents and secure the structures against the cold. A few blows of flint showered sparks on tinder to nurse a gentle flame that they tended to with kindling and logs they’d brought along in their supplies. A couple of hours later, a makeshift vegetable soup spiced with salt and pepper helped to warm their bodies and loosen joints against the winter’s blast.
‘Well, you get some rest. I’m going to head out and take a look around,” Taze told Rook.
“Are you kidding? I’m not going to bed till you’re back to take up watch. Speaking of which, wouldn’t it be wiser to wait till daybreak? Night’s going to fall soon.”
“I’m just doing a quick walkthrough,” Taze said. “We need to fix this place up. So, the sooner we know what's up, the better. Besides, there might be hot springs. Who knows?”
“Sir, you seem to get unusually chipper when on a mission. Assuming our rule for being blunt is still in place, are you an adrenaline junkie?”
“No, I just enjoy the idea of adventure.” Taze smirked.
Rook gazed at him suspiciously. “If you’re not back by midnight, I’m coming in after you.”
“Fair enough,” Taze said, lighting a torch.
Over the next hour, Taze made his way through the castle carefully. Along the way, he’d found some truly interesting sights, including a marvelous booby trap that seemed to shoot pillows at the would-be victim. It seemed at some point, someone had the castle set up with truly ridiculous traps and obstacles that led to some hilarious possibilities. However, things changed the deeper down he went as the atmosphere became more and more creepy
Finally, he found something that gave a chill down his spine, two statues of pegasi weeping. He wasn’t sure why, but their presence felt strange and perverse. And unlike most of the statuary he’d seen, they seemed unaffected by time.
He only went a bit deeper after that, constantly checking over his shoulder as he felt like something was following him. Finally he decided he’d gone far enough and turned to head back to meet up with Rook. When passing the statues, he was sure his mind was playing tricks on him. It seemed like one of the two had moved. But maybe that was just a trick of the torchlight. With the unnerving portion past, he swiftly navigated through the other traps to return to the courtyard and the waiting stallion and fire. Given the size of the structure, it was clear they were going to have to make multiple trips if they wanted to chart out the whole place. But that was something they could discuss for another time. Now, it was time to check in and get some rest.
There would be more to do in the morning.
Matthew sighed heavily as he dragged himself back to the Punch Bowl. There at the door, a familiar blue Thestral laid in wait with a wide smirk on her face.
“Hello, Moonshade,” Matthew greeted dryly. “Enjoy your errand?”
“Yes. It’s quite a nice day, isn’t it?” Moonshade asked. “Was a perfect day to see the smiths about some adjustments I needed while you were safely here.”
“And by here, you mean at the library?” Matthew pointed out as he pulled the door open for her. “Had a nice visit to Rarity’s afterward. Nice mare, once you get to know her.”
“Oh? How did that go?” she asked as they entered the taproom that functioned as a lobby.
“Shawn reintroduced us, in a manner of speaking.” He raised his hands, which were decked in new mittens. “Insisted on making these for me, too.”
“They seem like a smart addition for the time of year.”
“I’m inclined to agree. And, in her words, not mine, very fashionable.”
Moonshade checked the tavern quickly as they entered, and her eyes widened a little as her gaze fell on Shawn. A radiant bird perched on his shoulder as he sat drinking a cup of steaming cider with a stick of cinnamon in it. “Is that a phoenix?”
“Yes, it is.” Shawn nodded. “His name’s Renati.”
Matthew couldn’t help but smile as he gazed at the creature of myth. “How in the world did you manage to get a phoenix to adopt you?”
“He just seemed to like me, so I bought him.” Shawn shrugged.
“Is he even going to be able to come back with us?”
“Phoenixes don’t just like anybody,” Moonshade commented as she drew closer.
Renati eyed her with narrowed gaze and hopped onto Shawn’s other shoulder before looking between the other human and the Thestral.
“He doesn’t seem to like strangers, does he?” Matthew asked.
“Phoenixes are picky. They only ever pick special people.”
“Consider me lucky, then.” Shawn chuckled. There was a loud sound like a gong as Berry accidentally dropped a pot lid.
“Well, considering how you escaped your brush with death, I’m inclined to agree,” Matthew said.
“That, I can agree with. In any case, he’ll be sticking around.”
Matthew chuckled. “All right. Welcome to the family, then, Renati.”
Renati let out a small chirp, then returned to his usual aloof demeanor.
Matthew shrugged as he took a chair at the table. “So, what’s on the menu tonight?” he asked. And so the trio prepared for their meal.
Shawn yawned as he strode past the last stretch of the market. Nothing notable had caught his attention, and he didn’t require anything personally. There was, however, something else on his mind that he could attend to, given that he had at least finished translating the first chapter of the book.
His train of thought was cut off, however, by the sound of flapping wings. Looking over his shoulder, he was able to catch Renati flying toward him. After giving a brief chuckle, he tilted his head and ensured Renati had plenty of space to land on his shoulder.
“Enjoying your ability to come and go as you please?” Shawn gave a small grin.
Renati ruffled his feathers and preened himself casually, being careful to avoid eye contact while the human maintained that knowing smile.
“All right, I’ll leave it be.” He chuckled once more as he continued his walk. “If you’ll be joining me, you should be able to enjoy the atmosphere of the library.”
Renati chirped inquiringly.
“It’ll be a shorter visit. Mostly just to drop something off.”
The bird leaned toward the book and papers tucked under his perch’s arm, then looked at Shawn again.
“Translations of a book.”
The pair strode toward the great tree, and Renati gazed intently at the wood while they approached the door.
Shawn sighed as he knocked on the door.
The door pulled open to reveal a familiar purple Dragon with wide green eyes. “Shawn! Hey, good to see you!”
“You as well, Spike. Is Twilight home?”
“Sure is.” The young Dragon grinned and pulled the door open wider. “Come on in! I’ll go get her.” He chuckled. “She might be a little slow this morning. She and Rainbow Dash were up all night reading the latest Daring Do novel.”
“Oh, now?” Shawn hummed questioningly
“Yup,” Spike agreed. Then he noticed the companion riding on Shawn’s shoulder. “Hey, you’ve got a phoenix friend? That’s so cool! Me, too!”
“Yeah. Saw him yesterday and couldn’t help but get him. Though, it was more that he seemed okay around me than his previous caretakers.”
“What’s his name?”
“Renati.”
Spike smiled and waved at the bird. “Hiya, Renati. Nice to meetcha.” He closed the door, then started toward the stairs. “I’ll go get Twilight. Make yourself at home!” he called down as he hopped toward the second floor. It took a few minutes. There was some grumbling and a very familiar whine that drifted down the stairs from a certain blue Pegasus. Then came the flash of light as Twilight Sparkle materialized in the main reading room with Spike next to her. A very sleepy Rainbow Dash soon followed the slower way down the stairs, flapping lazily in the air.
“Morning, Shawn,” the mare murmured, being too tired to let her usual tendencies toward formality get in the way. “What can I do for you?”
“I come by with a delivery,” Shawn replied as he lifted the book in his hand into view.
Twilight blinked tiredly for a few moments, then rubbed her eyes before the adrenaline finally kicked in as she recognized the volume and the papers that he held over it. The Unicorn zoomed to his feet and gazed up with the excitement of a toddler about to dig into the candy jar. “Is that what I think it is?”
Rainbow Dash yawned. “All this fuss over a book?” She groaned and rubbed her eyes.
“A book that was never before translated, and potentially from my world….” Shawn remarked the second half with uncertainty. “It has the same language, but I don’t know how it got here, or when.”
“Sounds like something out of Daring Do and the Lost Manuscript.” Rainbow yawned again. “Turned out to be a secret code that led all the way back to Luna and the Lunar Rebellion.”
“Rainbow, you’re mixing up the books.” Twilight sighed. “That’s Daring Do and the Lunar Star Code. The Lost Manuscript had to do with an ancient book of spellcraft.”
“Is that what that is?” Rainbow asked curiously as she flew to peek over Shawn’s shoulder, heedless of the squawks of protest from the Phoenix at its space being violated.
“I don’t know. I haven’t read it yet,” Twilight pointed out, then looked curiously at Shawn. “Is it?”
“It’s mainly about some field of magic that sounds familiar to me, but they haven’t named it yet in the chapter I’ve translated. It sounds like some kind of mythology from my world.” Shawn frowned as he thought it over. “If it is what I think it is, then this may be a book on thaumaturgy.”
“Thauma-what?” Rainbow scratched her head.
“As mentioned, basically a field of magic, or at least, I think so.” Shawn shrugged.
“So, humans did have magic once?” Rainbow asked. “Ow!” A strong peck from Renati quickly jolted the mare out of her sleepy stupor, and she darted swiftly out of the bird’s reach. “What was that for?”
“He’s been warning you that you’re in his personal space.” Shawn shrugged with his opposite shoulder. “He doesn’t like many individuals. I’m just lucky that he seems to like me.”
Renati flared his wings again and let out another call as embers scattered briefly from his wings. Then he regained his composure, having made his point heard and casually returned to his usual aloof behavior.
“If this really is a book on practical application of a system of magic from your world, it could open the way for an entirely new field of magic to study here in Equestria, not to mention help us to gain a greater understanding and insight into a history in your world that you’ve never known before!” Twilight’s eyes, well … they sparkled as she brought up the possibility. “Oh, this is so exciting!”
Shawn chuckled. “It’s just an introduction for now. I’ve got plenty to translate still, but I figured you’d appreciate a chapter by chapter update.”
“You bet!” She gazed lustily at the papers. “Can I…?”
Spike sighed and shook his head. “Hoboy. Here we go. I’ll go get the pancakes.”
Rainbow perked up. “Dibs on the first one!” Her mane trailed a tiny rainbow behind her as she zipped toward the kitchen.
“I leave this in your care,” Shawn said as he handed it off to Twilight. “Drop it off at the Tavern when you’re done. Do keep in mind it isn’t long. Until then, I’m off for more work.”
Twilight’s grin was as disturbing as it was adorable as she levitated the papers and began to read. “You’re okay if I take notes, right?”
“Try not to put too much down. We don’t exactly know what’s contained in this book.”
Twilight’s eyes were already darting over the first page as she nodded. “Right. Yeah. Understood….”
Shawn smiled and shook his head as he left out the front door. He was confident he would be seeing the mare again soon.
“All right, we’ve fulfilled the mission, set up camp, stayed the night, got a good idea of the opposition we’ll have to face, and you got to explore your haunted castle,” Rook said as he finished rolling up his bed roll. “Anything we’re missing before we head out?”
“Not really,” Taze said. “Besides planning our trail home more carefully.”
“That shouldn’t be a problem.” Rook chuckled. “Just have to make sure we can keep our wooden friends at bay.”
“Still, let's take things a bit more carefully this time,” Taze said. “Keep your weapon somewhere easy to get ahold of at all times.”
“You don’t have to tell me twice,” Rook assured him. The duo finished packing the cart, and Rook nodded as the pair hitched him up to the wagon again. “All set?”
Taze checked his flintlock one last time, making sure the powder was dry. “Yup.”
“Then let’s get going.” The duo set out together and made their way toward the rope bridge. Once more, the air was quiet. There was no sign of birdsong or other wildlife, only the cold and the frost as they tread over frozen ground. As the two crossed over the bridge itself and the castle shrank from sight beyond the gorge, a loud metallic clang rang and reverberated through the air, causing Rook to rear in surprise. “What in blue blazes…?”
“There is no way those chains should have broken,” Taze said.
“What about the locking mechanism? Could it have failed?”
“Not likely,” he said.
“Then we’ll have to report that to Lord Shawn.”
“Yeah, let's get moving. This place is giving me the creeps.”
“Now you know why nopony likes setting hoof in here,” Rook said with a smirk.
“Maybe, but we'll be back. I hope you're ready,” Taze said.
“You do realize that you pay me to do that, right?”
“No, Equestria pays you. They just pay you to listen to us.” Taze laughed. “Which is weird, given we’re foreigners.”
“And heroes. Don’t forget the heroes.”
“We failed, Rook,” Taze said. “Shawn’s the hero.”
“Put up a good fight, though,” Rook pointed out. “I’m a failure, too, according to the higher-ups at Canterlot. Don’t mean I am. You may not have done what you wanted, but you did what was right. That makes you hero enough in my book.”
“No one worthy of being a hero called themselves that,” Taze said.
Rook chuckled. “Fair enough. So, do I call you Sissy, then, Sir?”
“No, you just call me Taze,” Taze laughed. “Come on. We’ve got a ways to go.”
Matthew smacked his lips and shook his head bitterly as he descended the stairs to the main floor of the Punch Bowl. The brew the doctors had prepared to substitute for his pills was a foul concoction, but it seemed to yield the proper results. “Morning, Berry,” he greeted the mare as he approached the counter.
Berry Punch raised a brow. “What happened to you? You look like somepony shoved a stink blossom in your tea.”
“They might as well have.” He resisted the urge to spit out of courtesy to the mare. “Got anything to get rid of a bad aftertaste? That medicine’s got to be some of the worst I’ve ever taken.”
Berry smiled and shook her head. “Keeps most folks from overdosing on meds. ‘If it doesn’t taste bad, it’s not working.’” She passed him an apple. “Take a few bites of this, and you’ll be good to go,” she promised.
“What is it?”
“An apple. What else did you think it was?”
“Not a zap apple?”
Berry shook her head. “Those things disappear too quickly. You’re lucky if you can get one to try, and they kick harder than Applejack bucking.”
Matthew whistled. “Really?” he asked, then took a bite. The flavor of the fruit was tart, but the texture helped to scrape against his tongue and mouth to clean his taste buds. A few bites later, he was back to normal. “Wow, that really works.”
Berry smirked. “How else do you think I fix my mouth after a bender?”
Matthew winced. “That … might be a little more than I needed to know.”
Berry shrugged. “A drink’s a drink. S’not like I make it anyone else’s problem.” She turned aside and clopped onto the floor of the bar. “So, what’s it going to be for breakfast this morning?”
“Got any eggs?”
Berry nodded. “I’ll see what I can rustle up.”
Shawn frowned as he continued to scan over the market stalls. While the market had plenty of curious things to supply him and occupy his time previously, now it was devoid of anything he wanted to investigate, much to the sellers’ dismay.
He sighed as he continued walking along the path and eventually passed beyond the town, lost in his thoughts. It wasn’t until a sharp peck from Renati drew his attention away from his musings that he noticed how the dim winter light was now latticed by shadowy branches. Gnarled tree trunks clutched at the sky with clawing branches, and a cold that was not entirely of the weather sent a shudder through him as he gazed into the depths of the Everfree Forest.
“Yeah, … it’s definitely not time for this,” he remarked, tracing his steps back before following along the edge of the forest. “Not yet. Thank you, Renati.”
Renati puffed out his chest and chirped proudly. The two continued to walk around the bounds of the town and beyond until they reached what appeared to be a friendlier patch of the forbidding woods that was equally bare of leaves but far more inviting in its appearance. A small hill in the distance rose, with a wooden fence to guard against the edge as it became higher. A frozen stream flowed beneath a natural bridge on its way up to the slope to where a lush cottage resided. There were no monsters here in this place, but given its proximity to the woods, it seemed odd that any Pony would want to build there. All they would have would be the wildlife … for … company….
“Um, h-hello, Lord Shawn,” a soft voice murmured just barely above a whisper. “Did you need something from me?”
“Oh. Hello, Fluttershy,” Shawn responded after taking the time to process what she’d said. “No, I’m just wandering around at the moment.”
“So, you like to take walks?”
“Occasionally, yes. Though it’s mostly when I’m lost in thought.”
A flutter of wings rushed in Shawn’s ears as Renati took flight and soared around the pair, then darted through the boughs of the trees to exercise himself.
“He’s very handsome,” Fluttershy complimented. “They’re not exactly a rare bird, but Phoenixes don’t normally bond with partners. They prefer to be wild and free, like their element. Where did you find him?” With the focus shifted to an animal, the mare was almost like a normal Pony again, her curiosity having overridden her usual timidity.
“Found him in the market alongside plenty of other creatures up for trade. He just seemed to take to me more so than his previous caretakers.”
“Phoenixes are great familiars to have for magic, and they’re very protective. Once they bond with somepony, they stay with them until their partner dies.”
“Interesting.” Shawn hummed as he glanced after Renati. “Now it’s just a matter of curiosity as for why.”
“He might tell you one day after you get to know him better.” She smiled kindly. “But you must be feeling cold, and it’s a long walk back to town. Would you like to join me for some tea?”
“I wouldn’t want to impose.” Shawn gave a gentle smile.
“Y-you wouldn’t be. Oh, but I don’t want you to think I’m pushing you to either,” she said hastily.
Shawn’s smile widened slightly. “If you’ll have my company, and you’re sure of it, I wouldn’t mind joining you. So long as you don’t mind Renati.” He gestured briefly toward the forest. The phoenix flew back and perched on his shoulder again, having taken sufficient time to stretch its wings.
“Oh, we won’t mind,” Fluttershy assured him. “It should be a calm day today. Most of my animal friends are hibernating.”
“Then I would be delighted to.”
Renati cocked his head curiously as he gazed at Fluttershy and found, to his surprise, that the mare stared back not with intensity, but with the gentle warmth that embodied her element. He let out a chirp, then flew toward the cottage beyond and circled above the door.
Fluttershy smiled. “I guess Renati is looking forward to it, too.”
“How you doing there, big guy?” Taze asked as he observed the darkening horizon.
Rook smirked at his companion as the wagon’s wheels jostled along the root-covered trail. As an added precaution, the two had decided to plot a route that avoided the main path, so that they might hopefully evade any timberwolves in larger numbers. “Not too bad. Not encountering any more timberwolves helps.”
“Honestly slightly worried about that,” Taze noted.
“Well, you did pick the way with the least room for movement. Maybe they don’t like that either.”
“Still, you’d think there’d be some evidence of them tracking us.”
“Maybe they’re eating or sleeping?”
“I mean, that's not impossible, but just unlikely,” Taze noted.
Rook shrugged. “Figure it’s like that pink mare. Just don’t question it.”
“Maybe,” Taze said as they moved. “Just is un—”
The sight ahead of them was anything but pleasant. What first looked more like a small bundle of sticks stacked in a loose pile slowly took on the grim appearance of bleached bone that had been gnawed, chewed on, and finally cast aside by some predator of the forest. Sticky green sap dripped mournfully from the cuts and edges of the sticks while the bundle shuddered in place on the ground. The barest hints of rasping could be heard mingled with quiet whines that were almost completely muted.
“Rook, get me a blanket,” Taze said as he approached the creature, getting on his knees to get a closer look.
“You do know what that thing is, right?” Rook tensed as he eyed the brush and trunks surrounding them, keeping a wary eye out for any other timberwolves that might still be nearby.
“Yes, an injured lifeform,” Taze said. “Looks like it’s still an infant, really, or very close. Must have been abandoned for its coloring.”
“Wood is wood, Taze. I doubt color has anything to do with why this one got hurt.” Rook shook his head. “And its pack might come back for it later, when we’re not in such a sheltered stretch of road.”
“Not likely. Wolves aren't quite that good of parents,” Taze said. “Now, that blanket, please?”
Rook gave a reluctant sigh and reached back to snatch a blanket from their supplies, then tossed it to Taze. “I get the feeling this isn’t going to end well. Better to kill it and be done with it.”
“You know where dogs come from, Rook?” Taze asked as he worked to carefully wrap the pup securely.
“Timberwolves aren’t dogs.”
“Neither are wolves.”
“And your point is?”
“Dogs developed because of domesticated wolves,” Taze said. “At least on our world. And all because someone bothered to try taming them. I see no reason why this pup couldn’t be the start of greater things.”
“Assuming you can get Lord Shawn to agree.”
“I’m certain I can,” Taze said gently, setting the pup in the wagon. “He’d probably see the value himself.”
Rook sighed and shook his head. “Ready to start out again, Sir?”
“Yeah, let's double time it. The sooner we can get to Fluttershy, the better.”
Rook nodded, though the mirth they had shared before had dimmed significantly. “Yes, Sir.” Once more, the cart went into motion, and the pair were on their way.
Matthew frowned as he looked over his supplies from his attaché case. What papers he had brought with him would prove a limited resource, as would any parchment that he might be able to get ahold of. And yet, while he could speak and read to an extent in the Equestrian language, he still hadn’t fully grasped the art of writing. If he was going to achieve that properly, then he would need the means to do so without having to waste money on purchasing more ink, quills, and parchment, all of which would likely prove to be extremely expensive.
“If only I had a whiteboard,” he murmured to himself. “Or maybe….” His furrowed brow softened, and his mouth widened into a triumphant smile. “A chalkboard.” He gazed toward the sun to check the time, then nodded. There was enough daylight still. If he hurried, he could reach the camp and start practicing on the chalkboard in the classroom.
Matthew quickly rushed to grab his clothes and mittens.
“Where are you going?” Mutatio asked curiously.
“To study.” Matthew grinned. “I’ll see you and Me-Me in a few hours, Mutatio, if Moonshade asks where I’ve gone, just tell her I’m at the training grounds.” With that said, he strode quickly out of the room and raced down the stairs. He tore open the door just as a familiar magenta mare was reaching to push it open, causing her to spill into the human and knocking the both of them over.
“Oh, sweet Celestia,” Cheerilee groaned as she pulled herself away from Matthew. “Just what I need.”
“Sorry, Miss….” Matthew began.
“Cheerilee,” the mare said curtly, then sighed and shook her head. “I’m sorry. Normally, I’m not so grouchy, but today’s been a trying day. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you just for being in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
Matthew nodded as he drew himself back to his feet and slowly guided the door shut again. “I can relate. You’re Ponyville’s teacher, aren’t you?”
Cheerilee nodded. “Yes, I am.”
Matthew smiled wryly. “Then we both have some experience dealing with difficult students. At least yours have the excuse of still being young.” He extended a hand in greeting. “Matthew Connor. I help teach tactics and free thinking over at the camp.”
“Free thinking?”
“That’s what I call it, anyway. It seems that some Ponies come with certain preconceptions that aren’t suitable for a proper soldier and leader. Respecting command is one thing, but one can hardly earn respect if one isn’t willing to offer it in the first place, if you catch my drift.”
The wince that flickered over Cheerilee’s face was all Matthew needed to know she understood perfectly. “I try to remind my students of that every day.” She sighed. “Unfortunately, some Ponies don’t always have the best role models.”
Matthew smiled wryly. “Tale as old as time, ma’am.” He offered a formal military bow. “My apologies. I’d love to stay and talk longer, but there are some studies I must attend to before my next shift with the troops. I may understand how to read your language now, but the writing is still taking some getting used to. I look forward to meeting with you again under happier circumstances, Miss Cheerilee. And in the meantime, I hope you enjoy whatever Miss Punch has to offer.”
“As long as it doesn’t have anything to do with syrup or sap.” Cheerilee shuddered.
Matthew chuckled as he pulled the door open, offering a casual salute to the mare by way of farewell before closing the door behind him. It didn’t take a genius to figure out why the mare was so reticent. “The Cutie Mark Crusaders strike again.”
Out on the edge of Sweet Apple Acres, Big Mac was just finishing checking over the last patch of trees for the day when a voice emanated over the stretch of land between the orchard and the Everfree. The stallion froze for a moment, then turned and puffed out his chest in an effort to make himself as imposing as possible. Most of the time, the monsters of the forest left him and their land alone, but he’d seen his share of battle with timberwolves before, and sometimes worse. He narrowed his gaze, even as the voice grew more distinct.
“... Poor mountaineer barely kept his family fed….” The brush rustled. Branches snapped and cracked. Then, from out of the dark wood, a creaking wagon emerged, being led by the familiar sight of a certain hunter and a black Earth Pony. The human continued to sing gleefully as they walked, letting the bars hang in the air until they were almost on top of the stallion. “... Then one day he was shootin’ at some foooo—Oh! Hello, Big Mac.”
Big Mac stared at them, his mouth agape in an expression of simultaneous disbelief and inquiry.
“Uh, hey, can you point us in the fastest way to Fluttershy's cottage?” Taze asked.
Big Mac stared at the pair for a few more seconds, shook his head back into sensibility, and finally answered with an affirmative, “Eeeeyup.” The stallion pointed with a hoof along the tree line, then tapped his hoof a few times on the ground.
“He says we just have to follow the treeline a ways, no more than a few miles,” Rook translated.
“Thanks, Mac. I really appreciate it!” Taze said.
As the two walked away, Big Mac noticed two glowing orbs glowing from under a blanket in the cart. He shook his head immediately and turned around toward the farm. “Nnnope. Nope, nope, nope, nope, nope.”
The journey to Fluttershy’s cottage was uneventful, now that they were on the Pony side of the Everfree. Taze couldn’t help but smile at the sight of the familiar building. While he was still upset with the mare for her actions, he had to admit she had chosen an optimal location where she could best make use of her talents. It didn’t take long to reach the door and knock.
“Yes?” Fluttershy asked as she peered through the door. A cute white rabbit peered more intently with ears flopped back and eyes narrowed with suspicion. His nose twitched as he sniffed at the air, and he bared his buck teeth menacingly.
“Hi, Fluttershy,” Taze said. “Uh, important question. You help all kinds of animals, right?”
“Yes,” Fluttershy replied. “Is something wrong? Are one of the animals in Ponyville feeling sick?”
“Wait here,” Taze said. He walked to the cart and wrapped something in a bundle of cloth, then returned holding it carefully so that only the timberwolf pup’s head was showing while the rest remained restrained as he carried it back. “I found this one abandoned in the forest.”
Fluttershy stared at the puppy in a mixture of fear and curiosity. “I’ve never heard of a timberwolf being white before. Most are made from dark brown wood, and they have terrible breath. How did you catch it?”
“I found it broken and bleeding in the path,” Taze said.
“Then the first thing we can do is try to tend its wounds.” Fluttershy frowned. “I’m not sure my way will be the best way to take care of him, though. Timberwolves aren’t like most animals. They’re magical. I may need to ask Twilight for some help, especially if we need to build a cage for him.”
“Can I leave it here?” Taze asked. “I’ll go for the book.”
“I-if your friend can stay here to help keep the cub calm, it should be all right, I suppose,” Fluttershy said quietly as her mane began to hide her face.
“Sir?” Rook asked inquiringly of his superior.
“Just stay and follow orders until I get back. Should be nothing new, right?” Taze asked.
“Except for handling a dangerous magical creature.” Rook smirked. “I knew you were going to push us to our limits, but this is more than I expected.” He chuckled. “Get moving, Sir. I’ll hold down the fort,” he promised.
“Thank you, Rook,” Taze said before turning to Fluttershy. “Name of the book?”
“I’m afraid I don’t know any that deal with timberwolves directly. Most of the bestiaries about them are how to avoid them or kill them. Twilight should have an idea of what to look for once you explain the situation to her, though. Let’s get that cub inside where it’s warm. Once we have a pen set up, you can go see Twilight.”
Taze nodded and followed her in with Rook and a very disgruntled white bunny following suit.
Twilight had just ignited her horn and begun to levitate the many volumes in the library from their shelves for their regularly scheduled cleaning and reorganizing. The tomes began to wobble, and the mare smiled in anticipation of the events to come when the door slammed open, sending a frigid draft all over the room. Twilight jumped in surprise and let out a startled squeak as her concentration snapped. And with it went her hold on the books.Some few of them toppled from the shelves and were barely saved in time by the mare’s quick thinking. She pouted, then turned to face the intruder, ready to chide with a few choice words when her gaze locked on a familiar pair of legs. Her eyes went up, and up, and up to see a gasping human with twin swords on his back panting like mad. She hadn’t seen Taze this worked up since….
“What’s happening?” she asked quickly. “Are we under attack? Is it a monster? Changelings?” The books were quickly and gently laid on the library’s main table, and she directed her full attention to the human as the door shut behind him.
Taze held up a finger as he took several deep breaths. “Fluttershy needs a bestiary on how to aid a timberwolf.”
Twilight blinked in surprise and shook her head. “I’m sorry, run that by me again? I thought you just said aid a timberwolf.”
“I did,” he said bluntly.
“Oh. I see. Why would Fluttershy want to help a timberwolf?” The mare practically shouted the inquiry as the sheer ludicracy of the idea flooded through her. They were merciless predators that constantly prowled the forest in search of prey and territory. The very idea of bringing one even to the edge of Ponyville was tantamount to asking for a pack to invade!
“Probably because I asked her to look after an injured pup I found in the everfree.”
“Do you have any idea the kind of danger you just put her in by doing that?” Twilight hissed. “And she actually said yes? I know she’s the element of kindness, but this could be disastrous for Ponyville if the pack comes looking for it!”
“It’s a child, Twilight,” Taze said. “I don’t care what you think. You know that's all that really matters. Now, are you going to help us or not?”
Twilight groaned and shook her head. “Give me a minute. If you’re going to shelter it, we’re going to need to come up with a way to mask its scent and mana traces to keep its pack from following it till its wounds are healed, assuming they even can be. Depending on the damage, it may need to find new materials to integrate into its body.” The mare raced through the shelves, picking up a few choice volumes before galloping up the stairs to her room and returning moments later with several more books. Finally, she raced down to the basement and returned hauling a leather-bound tome that looked more like a dictionary or an almanac than a spellbook. “Grimm Skull’s bestiary, A Treatise on the Impacts and Side Effects of Wild Magic, herbology textbooks, botany, Magical Analysis for Artificial Lifeforms….” After a swift catalogue of her inventory, she finally sighed. “If I had more time, I would have made a more thorough list, but I suppose this will have to do. Let’s go, Taze. We don’t have much time to lose.”
“We?” Taze lifted an eyebrow.
“Technically, timberwolves aren’t flesh and blood. They’re an amalgamation of magic, not unlike a golem, though based around plantlife instead. Fluttershy may be able to tend to some of its hurts, but you’ll probably need a magic expert to really get it back on its paws again.” She levitated a pair of saddlebags around her barrel, then loaded them with the books. “Spike,” she called, “I’m heading over to Fluttershy’s cottage! I’ll be back as soon as I can, okay?”
“Okay!” Spike shouted back from upstairs.
Twilight nodded. “Okay, Taze, let’s go.”
An owl swooped overhead and hooted as it settled onto a perch. Twilight nodded. “I’ll tell Fluttershy you say hi, Owlowiscious,” she promised.
“Who,” Owlowiscious replied and nodded his head, following the pair as they made their way out the door.
The journey to Fluttershy’s cottage was swift and, fortunately for the pair, unimpeded. However, that did not make them immune to notice, and certainly not to pursuit as a certain blue figure followed their trail at a distance.
The air was calm as Twilight and Fluttershy conferred over the sight of the pup. The makeup of its bark was unusually smooth once Twilight had the chance to work on its wounds. A few spells to hasten healing and regeneration in plantlife left the albino with silvery scars that only seemed to accentuate its appearance. The canid’s sticks rattled and shook as it laid on the floor and went through the motion of breathing.
“He’s stable for now,” Fluttershy said quietly as she looked between the young timberwolf and Taze. “I’m going to have to do some research on what we can feed him, though. We don’t want the poor thing to starve, and we can’t have him trying to eat anypony here either.”
“Do they even eat people they’ve killed?” Taze asked. “I mean, they’re made of wood. Seems like they’d need similar types of nutrients.”
“This particular species is unique. They don’t necessarily have to kill their food, but they do it to absorb as much of the energy from their victims as they can. They feed on power and magic, any source they can get it from,” Twilight noted. “Trees, plants, and when that isn’t enough, the creatures that encroach on their territory. But like most wolves, they’ll only go after something they know they can hunt. Beat them enough times and they’ll back off or die if you manage to exhaust the magic that holds them together. In theory, as a puppy, this timberwolf may be able to be weaned off of feeding on Ponies and other creatures, assuming it hasn’t already been fed too much from that source. Better still if it hasn’t been introduced to that source at all. But we won’t know for sure until we can prepare some options to try.”
“Wow. You’re just full of hysteria, aren't you?” Taze asked as he carefully approached the pup and examined its mouth.
“Facts, Taze. I’m just telling you what my research showed,” Twilight said. “I’m doing this because you asked me to as a friend. Believe me, if I were hysterical, you’d know.”
Taze rolled his eyes as he pulled something from between the cub’s teeth and held it up. “Teeth aren't even fully developed. Canines are two small, and the main cutting teeth don’t have an edge predators use for cutting flesh.” He shook a small string of bark. “Evidence says this is what it was fed.”
“That does fit with what Twilight said about them eating wood and plantlife,” Fluttershy noted. “If that’s their primary food source, then if we can get some wood and plants rich enough in magic to match his diet, it should help him to recover.”
“Good,” Taze said. “And I’ll work on whatever forms I need to take him in.”
“You want to what?” Twilight shrieked as Taze walked toward the cottage door.
“Did I stutter?” Taze asked. “Who knows? This may be the start of a new branch of tameable animals.”
As the door pulled open, the familiar sight of a blank-faced human appeared before them. Shawn’s arms were crossed expectantly as he gazed at his friend, then peered farther into the building to see Twilight, Fluttershy, and finally the resting cub. “Surprise,” Shawn said calmly. “Though I’m not sure whether for you or for me….”
“Hey Shawn,” Taze said. “Found something on my way back.”
“I can see that. Any trouble on the way?”
“We ran into a pack of timber wolves on the way there, but we managed to get away. I’ll give a full report on the fortress later.”
“Is that going to be a problem for the town?”
“I doubt it,” Taze said. “Though some may object.”
“It’s going to be your responsibility.”
Taze laughed. “Yeah, kinda figured it would be.”
“Going somewhere?”
“Not currently. Why?”
Shawn shrugged. “Figured we’d hang out. You’re not the only one to find an unusual companion.”
“Oh?” Taze asked.
Shawn nodded. “Twilight, Fluttershy, we’ll talk later,” he promised, then shut the door. As the two friends walked away, Shawn raised an arm and waited patiently. In a matter of moments, Renati flew silently and gracefully from the trees to perch on his partner. “Taze, meet Renati. Renati, Taze.”
Taze gave the bird a nod, but thought better at poking at it.
Renati returned the human’s scrutiny with a cool gaze.
“He’ll be staying with us for as long as he wants. Don’t know whether he’ll warm up to you or not, but I think he’ll at least tolerate you after a while,” Shawn said.
“That's fair. Birds are kinda tricky,” Taze said.
Shawn smirked. “So, I hope you’re ready to answer some questions.”
“Sure. I imagine you’ll have a lot of them.” Taze smirked in return.
“Oh, I don’t know about a lot. Let’s start with just three.”
“Oh?”
Shawn’s voice shifted into a raspy cackle as he squinted at his friend. “What is your name?”
Taze cracked up.
Shawn chuckled as he righted himself. “And I didn’t even get to finish the bit.”
“I mean, seemed pretty obvious,” Taze laughed
Shawn shrugged. “You looked like you could use a good laugh.”
“Well, it is the best medicine,” Taze replied. “Though speaking of….”
“Yes?”
“Have you noticed we’ve been healing faster?”
“We’re in the middle of a magical world that pulled me back from the brink of death. I’m not so sure a little faster healing qualifies as unusual on its own. Care to elaborate?”
Taze held up his arm, which looked normal. “I got clawed by a timberwolf yesterday, and now you can’t even see it.”
Shawn raised a brow. “Did Fluttershy or Rook help you tend it?”
“Rook did, but nothing that would have healed it this soon.”
Shawn narrowed his gaze as he peered at the arm more intently. “How deep were the cuts?”
“Pretty damned deep,” Taze said.
“I’m told timberwolves have a sap of sorts that they produce, both lifeblood and spittle. Is it possible that sap may have gotten into your wounds to cause this?” Shawn asked as they continued along the path.
“No.” Taze shook his head. “Not likely at all.”
Shawn looked intently at Taze again, then stroked his chin. “I don’t have anything concrete to go on, but I’ll look into it. I may have an idea, but it’s too early to say whether it holds water.” He shook his head. “Other than the timberwolves, what about the rest of the trip? How was the castle?”
Well…” he went into a detailed explanation of everything they’d observed.
Shawn frowned. “And you’re certain someone deliberately sabotaged the portcullis?”
“It was nowhere near ready to break.” Taze nodded.
“Then that means we have squatters. I’ll see about sending a message to the princesses. It may be this is some sort of enchantment or golem or something they put in place to keep the castle safe. Better to make sure before we go in there ourselves.”
“Yeah, that seems safe.” He nodded.
“Let’s head back to the Punch Bowl. You can brief Matthew and Moonshade while we’re at it.”
Taze smiled. “Yeah. It’ll be nice to sleep on a bed again.”
“That is slightly unsettling news,” Moonshade commented after Taze had finished reporting what they had discovered.
“It means we’ll need to be prepared to fight and take prisoners,” Shawn agreed. “The fact that Taze was left unmolested, however, implies that they may be few in number,” he mused. “If we play our cards right, we should be able to manage it. The timberwolves will be troublesome, though.”
“I think we’ll be safe in large groups,” Taze commented. “And Twilight said she might have a few tricks from her bestiaries to help us along the way.”
“If you ask it of us, I or Me-Me would be willing to infiltrate the packs, perhaps lead them astray while the caravan travels,” Mutatio suggested.
Shawn shook his head. “As far as we can tell, you two are unique among most Changelings. I won’t risk losing you needlessly.”
“Is that even the same thing as what you normally do?” Taze asked.
“Infiltration and dissembling is what our species was made for. The intent is to encourage love to consume, but you saw how effective we were before my former queen revealed herself,” Mutatio noted.
“Yes, but sapient beings are generally more easily predicted in society.”
“We also analyze other creatures for potential sources of food. Ponies and other sapient races merely provide stronger sources in greater amounts. However, I believe we can save the finer points for a later conversation, since Shawn has decided this discussion is not a proper use of our time.”
“Agreed,” Matthew said. “We need to get a letter to Princess Luna as soon as possible. After she replies, we can come up with a battle plan.”
“Which brings us to the crux of the matter,” Shawn said. “Our cadets have been training for some time, but are they ready for real combat and field experience?” He looked to the others. “Your thoughts?”
“Not yet,” Taze said. “We’re going to be working for a while to get them in proper fighting shape.”
“They’re beginning to acknowledge authority, but it’s going to take more time before they muster the proper discipline around new faces. The pride in the noble class will be their undoing unless we can cure them of it,” Matthew added.
“Moonshade? You’ve also been observing our progress. What is your opinion as a representative of Luna’s guard?” Shawn asked.
“I would agree they need more time before they’re ready. How long, I’m not sure at this time.”
“We’ll have to take things one step at a time, then,” Shawn agreed. “And when we feel ready to test them properly, we can take them into the forest to face some of the less dangerous creatures. Fluttershy should be able to give us directions, or some of the other locals familiar with the forest’s dangers. Any objections?”
No one spoke.
Shawn nodded. “Very well, then. Let’s call it a night. We’ll carry on as normal for now and plan further once we receive word from the princesses on the status of the castle and any potential guardians or residents that my have been left behind.” He rose and stretched. “I’ve got a project of my own to get back to, anyway.” With that said, the human left the room, leaving the remainder behind.
“I guess I’ll try to get some sleep, then.” Matthew yawned. “It’s been a busy day.”
“It’s been a busy few days on my end.” Matthew’s yawn soon found its way to Taze, and he, too, found himself expressing his fatigue.
“Let's hope things go easier from here on, then,” Moonshade said.
Extended Holiday Chapter 18: Setting Up the Pieces
Matthew sighed as he leaned back in his chair and left the ink on the parchment to dry. Another day, another journal entry. It seemed the days were passing by so quickly now. Shawn had taken the time to confer with the smiths on various plans and ideas for how to proceed through the Everfree Forest. After the compound had been properly built and the lodgings improved, it was time to turn to preparations for the campaign to reach the castle in one piece and work properly on entry.
The move would likely have to be in stages, but at least it would be possible to manage without overtaxing resources. With that thought firmly in mind, he gathered his supplies and began the trek from the spare room to the ground floor, where he approached a pair of Thestral guards who stood before a set of double doors. A swift exchange of passwords granted him entry.
The war room was far from the elaborate creations of castle keeps and fantastical realms. This chamber favored functionality over panache. A large table held a map of Ponyville and the Everfree for the various Ponies to review and plant. Blueprints and diagrams were posted on the walls while various Ponies went to work organizing papers, altering calculations, and otherwise making themselves useful. A small team of cartographers and mapmakers had been provided by the princesses to help chart out a more accurate depiction of the Everfree than current documents allotted, and they worked feverishly as they sifted through mounds of papers filled with notes from the interviews they had been conducting among the townspeople for a better lay of the land leading into the forest.
Taze leaned back in a chair with his feet laying casually on the table while Shawn peered intently at one of the blueprints to check for any more errors. Moonshade, Black Rook, Silver Spear, and Twilight had already gathered to review the details that they knew from Twilight’s personal experience passing through those lands. A roll of parchment laid to her side, what doubtless must have been either a form of report or a means to record any important events for her to remember and plan for.
“I’m here,” Matthew said as he laid his materials on the table and took his seat. “Are we all set to start?”
“Yup,” Taze said.
“Then let’s get things underway,” Shawn spoke up as he looked to the gathering. “We have roughly a week until winter starts to clear, giving us at least two weeks total to get things prepared for clearing. Afterwards, we’ll need to start clearing a path for the caravan to pass through to our destination.”
“We should be able to get clearing teams organized quickly if we appoint a few more minor captains,” Taze noted.
“We’re supposed to have more units sent our way, but I haven’t received an update on that yet,” Shawn noted. No sooner had he said that then a whirl of magic materialized over the table to drop a fully constructed scroll sealed with wax and a ribbon.
“Speak of the devil,” Matthew said.
“Convenient,” Shawn remarked as he took hold of the scroll and cracked the seal. “Let’s see…. Thirty five units are scheduled to be en route for tomorrow. In addition, a military blacksmith will be sent in to assist with equipment. Following will be fifteen smiths of varying skills to assist in the creation of standard construction materials.” He looked up from the scroll. “All right, that settles that then. We’ll have the rest of our units tomorrow. That should give them some time to learn the schedule and get themselves prepared.”
“A week may not be enough to break them in properly,” Matthew noted. “We’ll need people to keep an eye on them so they don’t try anything.”
“We’ll need to establish some additional ranks to watch over things, but that shouldn’t take too much time, especially given Taze has already been planning something involving the troops.”
“I suppose the additional incentive of being on work duty instead of guard duty while they’re in the forest will help them to stay out of trouble, too,” Matthew mused. “What exercises did you have in mind, Taze?”
“We need to clear the trees and make an obvious path. The animals are less likely to attack people on well-trodden land,” Taze explained. “We could send them in crews to collect wood and tear out stumps over time.”
“Do we have an estimation of how long that might take or will we have to work that out as we test each of the recruits’ efficiency?” Matthew asked.
“We’ll need a sample, but I think if we keep the path narrow enough, say maybe five ponies abreast wide?” Taze commented. “We could have it done by mid-spring.”
“So long as we don’t overextend our forces along the way, that sounds doable,” Matthew agreed. “Will we be surveying for the future guard posts along the way as well or save that for after we finish clearing away the stumps?”
“This is to be a campaign,” Shawn said as he pointed toward the forest on the map. “Each stage of our progress will need to be carefully planned, especially given the size of our numbers and the level of training our recruits have. The wise choice is to build defensible structures along the way, so we can retain the footholds we establish. It will take longer to reach the castle, but it will be safer, and this particular enemy isn’t one you have to worry about stabbing you in the back.”
“Not necessarily,” Taze said. “About the time, I mean. We’ll have plenty of extra lumber from the clearing. If we have separate teams set up for building and keep the fortifications to a functional minimum, we could probably have them set up with little extra time.”
“We’ll have to rely on the expertise of our more seasoned warriors to help design the optimal setup,” Matthew noted. “Moonshade, what would be considered an acceptable and defensible structure by your guard standards?”
“Honestly, it’s probably better if we talk to some more experienced guards,” Moon shade replied. “I was stationed in Canterlot, so I didn’t end up in a lot of forts.”
“So, another letter to Princess Luna?” Matthew asked.
“Probably for the best,” Shawn agreed. “Once we can gather those bits of information, we can wrap up planning and get to work.”
“It’ll be interesting to see how the recruits react to their senior officers.” Matthew couldn’t help but smirk at the idea.
“There is … one other problem you’re going to have to consider,” Twilight said as she levitated one of her many volumes of books onto the table and opened to a particular page. “According to records, the castle is a rest stop of sorts for Gryphon mercenaries and others. Not many frequent the place, because it’s dangerous, but there’s one group of Gryphons that have been known to use it consistently once a year in their travels. I don’t know if they’ll take kindly to the castle being reclaimed.”
“Then we’ll have to prepare for their arrival and figure out how we’ll deal with them.” Shawn sighed. “Given they’re mercenaries, we could likely strike some kind of deal, but we won’t know for sure what can be managed until the time comes. Until then, we’ll prepare our defenses and plan according to the worst case scenario.”
“I think, honestly, what we’ve got planned is all we can do for now,” Taze said.
Matthew nodded. “We’ll need to coordinate with the smiths and engineers about a proper bridge for the gorge, too.”
“Based off the estimates that Taze was able to give me, I’ve actually already designed a bridge that can have its length adjusted,” Shawn remarked. “It’s just a matter of making it.”
“So then, sounds like we’ve got this set up,” Taze said. “I need to see Fluttershy about my mutt.”
“Keep us updated, then.” Shawn sighed. “This meeting is adjourned.”
The air was crisp and cold, but not biting as Taze approached the cottage. He was wearing a thick emerald green cloak with a silver lining. The back had the image of a silver snake coiled around itself. Fluttershy answered quickly and ushered him inside to help keep the chill of winter out. Angel Bunny was watching the timberwolf puppy intently from a safe perch atop a shelf while the canine gnawed on a piece of wood.
“He’s doing much better since Twilight helped deal with the gashes in his branches. Since he’s still a little sappy, I’ve warned the crusaders to keep their distance,” the mare informed him. “So far, he’s comfortable, and he doesn’t seem to want to hurt anyone, but we’ve kept him walled off for now, just to keep everyone else safe while he adjusts.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” Taze said as he walked toward the pup with a hand extended in a friendly way.
The puppy looked up from its meal and stared with glowing blue orbs at the hand. As Taze stepped through the incense burners, the pup cowered at first and clung to its meal. In response, Taze sat down cross-legged and waited patiently with the same hand still extended. When the cub was certain the strange creature wasn’t going to move to harm it, it rose cautiously and approached. It sniffed a few times, nosed at the human’s hand, then continued to sniffle until it reached one of the pockets in Taze’s cloak and tried to poke its head in.
“Well now, what did you find?” Taze asked the pup, patting its head as he gently nudged it back, then pulled a piece of tree bark out from the pocket and offered it.
The puppy immediately snatched up the bark, pinned it to the ground with its paws, and began to gnaw at it like a rawhide bone. Its hindquarters waved excitedly in the air as its tail wagged.
“There we go.” Taze laughed as he pet the pup. “I talked to my friend Shawn about it, and I think I’ve got a perfect name for you.”
The cub continued to chew at the wood, but its eyes drifted toward the human as he spoke and locked on his gaze.
“What do you think of Sylvio?” he asked.
The wooden canid stopped eating for a moment, then cocked its head as it stared at the human. It barked once, then faded to a questioning whine.
“Um, … he says he’d like you to say it again,” Fluttershy translated.
“Sylvio? Sylvio Lupis?” Taze looked at him, confused.
The timberwolf’s artificial brows furrowed together as it scrunched its face in the adorable manner only puppies and small children seem capable of. Finally, the pup nodded, barked again, and went back to eating his treat.
“He said he likes it. And … that you’re his pack leader now.”
Taze laughed “Well, that was fast.” He smirked as he continued to pet the pup. “How long will you need to keep an eye on him?”
“Physically, he seems to be fine. Since it’s difficult to keep a timberwolf intact for study, we don’t really have much to go on for the magical side of things. It might be good to give him time to get used to Ponies and other creatures before you take him back to town. It will be hard enough not to have everyone panic if you don’t let them know about our little friend here before you bring him with you.”
“What's your suggestion, then?”
“Teach him and tell the people in town that you got a new pet. I help animals find homes all the time, so that should help them to calm down if you spread the word.”
“I meant time,” Taze laughed.
“Oh.” Fluttershy blushed and pulled back behind her mane slightly. “Um, Let’s give him one more night, just to be on the safe side. If you could play with him, that might help to show how well he’s recovered, too.”
Taze nodded as he rubbed behind the pup's ears. Then he paused a moment, resumed his rubbing again, and finally raised an eyebrow in surprise.
“Is … something the matter?” Fluttershy asked.
Taze shook his head. “Not exactly. He just seems to be adapting.”
“Adapting to what?”
“The wood he’s eating. The bark in his coat is a little thicker and less soft than it was when I brought him here.”
“Maybe it has something to do with what Twilight did to help him heal?” Fluttershy suggested.
“What did twilight do?” Taze asked.
“Well, I don’t really know. It was some kind of spell to help with growth and regeneration, but it was meant for plants, and Sylvio isn’t exactly a plant, so … maybe it did something to make him adapt? I … really don’t know. Sorry….”
“It’s okay.” Taze grinned. “As long as he’s healthy.”
Sylvio barked and wagged his tail before licking Taze’s hand and leaving behind a coating of sticky sap.
“He says his family were a lot bigger and tougher than he was, and they fed him and his siblings to make them grow. So, maybe this is just how timberwolves get stronger?” Fluttershy guessed.
“Seems so. Perhaps the Everfree Forest is part of the problem?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, aren't you Ponies always talking about how wrong the place is? They literally are eating the trees growing inside it.”
“I … suppose there could be a connection,” Fluttersy said. “But I don’t know if it really matters right now anyway.” She smiled kindly at Sylvio. “I’ll make sure to get the little guy some good food. Now that we know his diet, we can find what will help him most.”
Sylvio barked again, and his tail wagged in excitement.
Fluttershy giggled. “He says he can hardly wait.”
Shawn sighed as he looked over his blueprints once again. “The hardest thing we’ll have to deal with is going to be the support. The crevasse noted around the castle makes this difficult, but there are a few design alternatives we can use to manage it.” He gestured to the blueprint he had made before looking up to the smiths gathered. “What I’ve got here should do the trick, and it’s a modular design, allowing adjustments to happen as needed.”
“This looks interesting,” Storm hammer commented as she looked it over.
“Modular designs are a pain to make, but they’ll serve us well in the future in case of repairs or otherwise,” Shawn explained.
“So then, we’ll need to pool the apprentices. This is going to take a lot of synchronized work,” she commented, looking at Steel Weaver.
“That shouldn’t be too much trouble. Honestly, the designs themselves seem like they would have been more difficult.” Steel Weaver nodded.
“Yes, but still, we need every piece of this to work. I don’t think we’re going to have the resources for another shot right away.”
“So long as the two base points are made correctly, the bridge itself should mostly rely on wood, which we will have in a decent supply soon enough,” Shawn spoke up. “In addition, you’ll have some new smiths inbound soon enough to assist in the labor.”
“Anyone we might know of?” Steel Weaver asked.
“No names were listed. Sorry.”
“Lets just hope we don’t get that twit,” Storm Hammer said.
“That, I can agree on.” Steel Weaver sighed. “So long as it’s not him, everything will run smoothly.”
“I’ll not ask for the moment,” Shawn shook his head. “In any case, I’ve got the dimensions listed out in Equish, so you don’t need me to translate them. Beyond that, I leave these designs in your hooves.”
“So, you're actually trusting us with this one?” Storm Hammer laughed.
“Well, considering it can’t explode and kill us, I have faith in your abilities.”
“Well, that’s certainly a change of pace.” Steel Weaver chuckled. “I think we can get this one done, right?” He looked to Storm Hammer. “Though the wood may take longer than expected.”
“That's true. We’ll need to see if this town has a decent carpenter,” Storm Hammer noted.
“I might be able to help with that, actually,” Shawn noted. “I’m not too impressive as a smith, though it’s worked out for now. But before I came to Equestria, I was pretty good when it came to working with wood.”
“Maybe, but you’ll need more help than yourself,” Storm Hammer commented
“Of course, but, that’ll at least give us another individual working on the project there.”
“It’s going to take a lot of hoof power to fill this order, especially with the measurements we’ll need to take for the depth of the gorge itself,” Steel Weaver noted.
“We’ll handle that when we get there,” Shawn said. “For now, the sooner we can get to work on the pieces we’ll need, the better. While Taze and Matthew coordinate cutting down the trees for the path, we’ll work on carving out the parts we’ll need.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Storm hammer said. “We’ll get on this immediately.”
“In that case, I’ll leave you to it.” Shawn nodded. “I have some paperwork to do, so I won’t be around again until later.”
Matthew gazed intently at the cardboard rendering of the landmass and its various regions from desert to jungle to rainforest to bayou. Then he frowned. “Equestria has some … very strange biomes.”
Twilight shrugged. “It’s magic. Sometimes, it goes out of its way to accommodate the occupants of a territory. That, or to shape them to match what it wants instead.”
“That sounds ominous.”
“It’s not like it’ll force someone to change all at once. The changes usually come gradually over years, or even generations. The only time that magic has been known to forcefully change an individual has been in the event of a curse, a consciously directed spell, or if one is so closely attuned to magic that it’s able to modify your shape directly. And that last one only works if the person with the attunement doesn’t know how to use their magic properly.”
“So, basically, extremely rare occurrences?”
Twilight nodded. “Exactly. So, are you going to roll?”
“I hope you’re ready for a long game,” Matthew returned. “This has been known to drag on for days sometimes.”
“Why make it so hard to win?” Twilight asked.
“Because no good game worth its salt would only take a couple of minutes. And strategy games are almost as addicting as Pinkie Pie’s cupcakes.”
“... I’m not sure I can trust you on that, Matthew. You’re a very military minded kind of person.”
“Didn’t you have a time in your youth when you had to utilize strategy to defeat an opponent?”
“Several when I was a filly and competing with my brother.”
“Then you should understand the allure of victory after waiting and fighting for such a long time to have your strategy pay off. The anticipation is at once devastating and exhilarating, knowing that the outcome hinges on pure chance through the roll of the dice and the troops at your command.”
“Are you sure you haven’t been hanging out with my brother lately?” Twilight asked suspiciously.
“Yes, I’m sure, Twilight. It’s just that this essentially constitutes a war game in and of itself. It’s a perfect microcosm of real time strategy, since you never know whether your forces will win or lose in a battle, no matter how well planned your attack might be. And the same can be said for defense. In a very real sense, this is a scale model of war. The only difference is that you can’t have peace talks, only discussions to make temporary alliances.”
“Why are you so determined to reproduce this?” Twilight asked.
Matthew smiled knowingly. “I have plans for this game, Twilight. There can be great education in defeat. And much like our little battle with the snow forts, this will push our troops to think outside the box and learn when it’s appropriate to take risks versus when to play things by the book.”
“But that’s not the main reason we’re making it.”
Matthew grinned. “Not even close. It’s just plain fun.”
Twilight sighed in resignation. “All right. Which tribe did you want to play as for this test?”
Taze stood calmly behind the Punch Bowl as he gazed down range. A few days back, he had set up hay bales with paper targets with Berry’s permission, and he was actively using them for target practice, both with his throwing blades and pistol. After regretfully leaving Sylvio for the night, he went to his nightly routine. In the morning, he worked out. In the evening, he worked on his aim.
Taze sighted down the barrel with his arm outstretched and concentrated, picturing the site and where he wanted the projectile to go. He had never been good with guns, not even the airsoft rifle his family had lying around the house. But he knew that all things come with practice. He took a deep breath, exhaled, and finally squeezed the trigger. The ball shot from the barrel with the usual puff of smoke and hit just inside the outer ring.
“Damn,” Taze swore, looking at one of the other targets. Five throwing blades had dug into it; three in the inner ring, one just outside it, and one in the center. Why could he throw better than he could shoot?
“Is it really wise to use up your ammo like that?” Matthew strode toward the firing line from the side of the inn. “It’s not like we have an infinite supply.” Then he looked over Taze’s work and whistled. “Not bad,” he complimented.
“I can’t shoot worth a damn. It’s not going to matter much if I can’t hit anything with it to begin with.”
“Have you tried shooting with just your dominant eye?”
“I’ve tried everything,” Taze said. “It just comes down to practice.”
“That, and dealing with the recoil, I suppose.” Matthew pulled out his kay bar, raised his arm, and threw for all he was worth at one of the wooden targets. The handle knocked harmlessly against the wood, and the blade clattered to the ground. “I guess we both have our issues to work with.” He frowned. “You know, I can’t help but wonder how good a shot I would be with my pistol. I haven’t really had the chance to test it since Hearth’s Warming with all the work we’ve been doing with the troops.”
“Well then, you should try and see how it goes.”
“Maybe next time, if you don’t mind me joining your session.”
“Nah. I made this for anybody,” Taze said.
“You know, you could always use the range at the base. Is there a reason why you wanted to make one here?”
“So I don't have to show off my crappy aim?” Taze chuckled.
“It’s not that bad, Taze. At least you’re hitting the target. I can't even get my knife to stick.”
“Well, I mean, it may help if you were using the right kind of knife,” Taze said.
“I thought you could throw any knife.”
“You can, but throwing knives are generally made specifically for the process, making it much more likely to hit with the blade.” Taze took a blade and held it carefully before taking aim and throwing, hitting the inner circle.
Matthew whistled again, then chuckled. “Wouldn’t it be funny if it turned out you had the knife skills and I was the marksman?”
“Not that out there. You’ve had more practice with a gun than I have.”
“Maybe we can teach each other, then.” He frowned. “By the way, you did make sure to tell Berry and any other people not to panic if they hear the gun going off, right?”
“I explained everything.” Taze nodded.
“Good. At least we won’t have to worry about starting some kind of scene, then.” Matthew looked back to Taze’s pistol again. “On second thought, maybe I will join you. It never hurts to be prepared. That being said, there was something else I wanted to ask you about while you’re here. Have you got any plans for later tonight?”
“Not really.”
Matthew grinned. “In that case, after we finish up here, there’s a little something I’d like to show you and the others tonight. Call it a fun surprise.”
The air was calm and still as Shawn knocked on the door to Golden Oaks library. Cheerful golden light flowed from within, a sign of the warmth generated by candles and magic on an otherwise chilly and bleak winter day. The door creaked open, and a familiar purple muzzle peeked out into the cold to stare at Shawn’s cloaked and hooded form.
“Oh, Lord Shawn,” the Pony exclaimed. “Please, come in. What brings you by?”
“I’ve come by with some more information translated from the book.” Shawn gave a small grin. “That, and to talk to you about something involving said book.”
Twilight lit up with a far broader grin. “Please, please, come in!” she said excitedly and hastened to shepherd the human inside before closing the door. “The premise behind the introductory thesis was fascinating. The idea that a person can actively consume and manipulate the very building blocks of all matter…. The things a Pony could learn from that!”
“Indeed. Though it has led to some other questions. In particular, over later information I was able to translate.” Shawn frowned as he held out the book for Twilight. “It talks about a field of power needed to use these arts, and lists several known properties of said field that feel … almost familiar in a way.”
“You mean like a sigil or a magic circle?”
“Not really. It’s something that sort of … covers the outside of an entity. Notable things about this field is that it does things on its own.”
“So, it’s like a living thing?”
“Kinda...? Though, not entirely. The book says that it doesn’t think on its own. It just does these actions based on the host’s needs. The thing that caught my eye in particular is how it seems to help the host. Enhancing them through differing means, or even going so far as to help heal injuries at an increased rate.”
“So, sort of like a constant protection, but one that doesn’t need a source of magic to maintain it?”
“Yeah. But, that’s the thing. Some of the information mentioned feels … I don’t know, too familiar.” Shawn’s frown deepened as he thought things over. “Like some part of me knows something, but I can’t put my finger on it.”
“You mean like a blocked memory?”
“Something like that, but it doesn’t really make sense. I know Luna mentioned I appear to have some repressed memory of something recent, but I don’t know how it would connect to this.” He looked to his hand as he continued his train of thought. “Thaumaturgy. I mentioned it before, but … I don’t know where from.”
“I … thought you mentioned it from the book?”
“I mentioned it to the others before I had even seen the book.”
Twilight hummed in thought. “That is unusual,” she agreed. “You weren’t in any trance or anything like that when you mentioned it to them, right?”
“I don’t think I was. In any case, it just all sounds eerily familiar, as though I know what it’s talking about. Yet, I don’t hold much recollection about where I learned it from.” He squinted as he focused on his hand. “The more I focus on it, the stranger it feels. As though at any moment I could slip—” He suddenly blinked, and for the briefest of moments, he swore he could see his hand glow before everything snapped back to normality. He gave a brief groan of annoyance as he rubbed at his eyes. “Sorry. Felt lost for a minute there.”
Twilight furrowed her brow as she gazed at Shawn’s hand. “You said your people can’t use magic, right?”
Shawn hummed as he turned his attention to Twilight. “Yeah. Magic’s not really something we can use. Why do you ask?”
“Because your hand just glowed. It was just a second, but … it was almost like when I use my magic.”
“Wait, that actually happened?” Shawn blinked a few times as he returned his attention to his hand.
“Have any of your other friends shown any signs like this? I mean, Taze said that magic might have existed in your world before. Maybe Equestria’s abundance of mana just helped to jump start it for you.”
“I’m ... not sure. They haven’t mentioned glowing hands or anything like that.” Shawn paused as he thought over a few things. “But, … Taze has questioned me about rapid healing from an injury he recently had....”
“Are you implying what I think you might be?” Twilight asked as she looked first to the copy of the translation, and then to Shawn.
“I might be.” Shawn frowned. “I’ll need to look into this more. If all of us have this field, it would explain a lot.”
Twilight peeked at the pages as they rustled with the touch of her magic. “Any chance these might mention a test?”
“Nothing I’ve translated yet, but there was a brief mention of it in a later section. I’ll have to test it out when I do translate it.”
“Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help. After everything you’ve done for me and Cadance, it’s the least I can do.”
“I will. Until then, however, I have a lot to think on. Enjoy what I have translated for now. I’ll be back later. Like I said, I think I want to look into this further.”
Twilight shook her head. “If this is your only copy, you should keep it for cross reference, just in case. I can wait until after you’ve sorted this out.”
“I can read Latin, so I can read the original. Don’t worry.” Shawn waved dismissively.
Twilight looked like she was about to say more, but finally relented and nodded. “Whatever you think is best.”
The air was calm and cold, the halls silent. The Punch Bowl had become a veritable graveyard thanks to its lack of boarders that night. The tap room was warm and cozy, with just a few lingering patrons while the cold of winter blew harshly out from the Everfree Forest. Matthew grinned as he clung to the box Twilight had brought from the library. The time had come at last, and he was not about to waste the opportunity as he knocked on Shawn and Taze’s door.
“Yeah?” Taze asked as he cracked it open.
Matthew smirked confidently as he patted the package at his side. “I did tell you I had a surprise for you two tonight. Care to join us downstairs?”
“I’ve about wrapped up everything on my end.” Shawn nodded as he stood from his desk.
“Great. I’ll get Moonshade. This is something I think she’ll appreciate, too.”
A few minutes later, a grinning Matthew laid the box on top of a large table to stare at his friends. “Twilight and I have been working on a little something for the last couple of weeks. We finally put on the finishing touches this afternoon for the beta test. With the five of us together, we’ll be able to have a proper campaign and push it to its limits.”
“The name is still in question, but for now, we thought Equestrian Defenders worked best,” Twilight said as the box was opened to reveal five small rectangular boxes and multiple six-sided dice. A foldable board spread open to reveal a detailed landscape of Equestria divided into a number of territories in various colors.
“It is a game of great risk and even greater rewards,” Matthew returned as he grinned at his friends. “A twist on a traditional game from my homeland. The objective is to conquer Equestria and have it fly under your colors alone. Each player starts off with a randomly chosen series of territories divided evenly among them. Each turn, a player is able to receive a minimum of three reinforcements. And depending on the number of territories under their control that number will increase or decrease without ever dropping below three.” He raised a number of cards, each bearing a Unicorn, an Earth Pony, a card that split a flying figure in half with a Thestral half on the left and a Pegasus half on the right, and finally a card that showed all three on its face. “Every time a land is conquered in your phase, you receive a conquest card that you hold on to. Get three of a kind, and you can trade them in for bonus armies that will rise in number every time a trade-in occurs. This fourth card is wild, and can count as any one of the other three.”
Next, Matthew raised the dice. “Battle is conducted with these. Based on the number of troops attacking, the aggressor may roll anywhere between one and three dice. The one rule is that at least one troop must remain behind to keep occupying territory, so plan accordingly. The same rules apply to the defending armies. A maximum of two dice may be used to defend against an opponent for so long as you have at least two troops defending your territory. If you have only one, then you may only use one die. Highest rolls will be paired together to determine which wins. In the event of a tie, the defending troops will be the victors. Troops can only be moved to adjacent and linked territory, and only at the end of your turn. Once you redistribute your troops, your turn is over. Different pieces will have different values of troop numbers. We can explain that as we go along.”
“Okay. Doesn’t seem that hard,” Taze noted.
Shawn gave a chuckle. “I haven’t played this in a long while.”
“What better way to show off one’s skill in command and tactics than with a war game that has no real war to it?” Matthew grinned as he eyed Moonshade. “Do you think you can take us on?”
“I can try,” Moon Shade said. “How hard can it be to beat a human?”
Matthew chuckled. “I could ask the same of a Thestral.”
“When it comes to strategy and calculations, I can’t be beaten!” Twilight boasted in turn. “I can’t wait to see what everyone tries!”
Matthew rubbed his hands together in anticipation. “Then let the games begin.”
Moonshade reached for one of the boxes. “In that case, I think I’ll take black.”
The campaign lasted for nearly three hours as humans and Ponies postured and posed one with another. Alliances were forged and broken. Whole swarms of armies were struck down by a measly force at impossible odds. But slowly and steadily, the map began to fill with two solid parties, Moonshade’s black and Shawn’s blue. And slowly, inevitably, the black began to consume until there was nothing left.
Moon Shade stood alone, victorious.
“Remarkably well done for your first game.” Shawn gave a smile.
“Thank you,” she said. “I admit you surprised me several times.”
“I haven’t seen a game this close in ages.” Matthew laughed. “Shawn, those saving throws were ridiculously lucky.”
“That they were,” Shawn agreed.
Matthew bowed his head in respect. “It would appear that humanity still has some improvements to make before they’re ready to take on a member of the Lunar Guard.” Then his solemn expression broke into a smile, and he winked at her.
“As to be expected,” she laughed back.
“I think it’s safe to say that this qualifies as an official success,” Twilight said with a smile.
“I’d say so,” Taze chuckled. “Who knows? Maybe Matthew will start his own string of games.”
“I don’t know, Taze. The legal ramifications alone if people back home were to find out what I did here with this wouldn’t be kind,” Matthew said uncertainly. “At least if we were to try to commercialize it.”
“Matthew, I’m pretty sure international patent laws don’t cover other worlds.”
“I’m still not sure if it’d be worth the headache. Besides, aren’t we supposed to focus on clearing the Everfree and training new troops? Until that’s done, I’m pretty sure any gaming pursuits will probably have to stick to the backburner.”
“Well, if you ever change your mind, I wouldn’t mind helping again,” Twilight said as she smiled. “This was a lot of fun.”
Matthew yawned. “Yes, it was,” he admitted. “Though now I’m feeling tired. Does anyone know what time it is?”
“Some time roughly after nine,” Shawn replied without looking at a clock.
Twilight started guiltily. “I … should probably get back to the library, then. Spike is probably waiting for me to tuck him in.” Her horn glowed as the pieces all levitated back into their respective containers and everything was returned to the box in swift order. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to hold on to this for now. It might be useful to help keep some of the younger Ponies occupied while their parents are looking for books.”
Matthew smiled. “Sure. Just make sure it’s available for us to borrow if we ask, okay?”
Twilight nodded. “You have yourself a deal.” And with those final words, she bade them all farewell and made her way out into the night.
When Twilight was gone, Taze looked at Shawn. “Hey, question?”
“What’s up?” Shawn raised a brow.
Taze took out the pistol. “I’m not a great shot,” he admitted. “Is there any way you could improve the accuracy?”
“Maybe. Rifling the barrel would help, but that’ll take some time, given the lack of certain tools. Beyond that, the best I could offer would be a longer barrel.”
“I’d appreciate any help you can give,” Taze said, offering it to him.
Shawn took hold of the flintlock with a frown. “I will warn you, this will take some time to accomplish. Without the right tools, I have to do these things by hand.”
“Yeah, well, unfortunately, it’s not doing me much good as is. I’ll stick with throwing blades and archery for now.”
Shawn nodded and hummed. “I’ll see what I can manage.”
It wasn’t exactly what could be called a common dream, but it wasn’t entirely unwelcome either. A secret lab hidden underground spread out before him. Familiar older consoles and figures paced around the room or gazed from the observation deck. A great metal container complete with a very uncomfortable looking table and restraint devices waited for a human test subject while massive needles laid within injectors to spread a familiar blue fluid into the one who would take that place. Matthew was in the middle of striding toward that great machine and the tomb that the container would surely be for those that stepped in. He was ready to enter that tomb and face the needles and the process to follow when time seemed to stop. The world froze, and Matthew pulled back from the table in a sense of vertigo and confusion. How … what … what was he doing here? Was he…?
“I’m … dreaming?” Before his eyes, slim and weak arms filled out with proper muscle tone as the weak body of Steve Rogers yielded and transitioned into his own weakened form. The air seemed to resound with a constant ticking emanating from his chest as he looked around.
“Yes,” a familiar voice stated as someone approached from behind. “Dreams are a strange thing, are they not?”
Matthew whirled to face the wavering form of a tall woman with flowing blue hair that sparkled in the artificial lights. The closer she drew, her stilettos rang from two to four as she transitioned into the familiar figure of a dark blue alicorn. “Princess Luna!”
“Yes, though I must admit your dreamscape is … new,” she said, looking around. “I don’t fully understand what’s happening.”
“It … might be difficult to explain, depending. I guess the first thing I should ask is, do you Ponies have movies?”
“Movies? Oh!” Her eyes widened. “You mean motion picture films? Yes, we have been working on that technology a lot. The new projectors hardly ever overheat now.”
“Yes.” Matthew nodded. “What you are seeing here is a motion picture film from our world. It’s the tale of a man who is meant to embody the best ideals of my country. He was born weak and frail, unable to develop like a healthy human would. But he had a strong heart and incorruptible morals. As a result of that character, he was chosen for an experiment that transformed him into a super soldier with incredible strength and agility. That chamber there was how they administered the serum and the rest of the process to transform this meek and mild human into America’s mightiest soldier.” He reached toward his chest. “I … guess I can relate to him. You know, because of my heart. I can’t do the things everyone else does nearly so well. My mom used to treat me like I was made of glass. I wanted to be strong and capable, like Captain America. To give service, really make a difference. But right now, the only fight I can really be a part of is a fight to keep living, if I’m being honest. What happened at the palace feels more like a fluke than any reflection of real military prowess.”
“I see…” she nodded. “It is a strange concept, but not unheard of.”
Matthew nodded in turn. “So, if you don’t mind my asking, what brings you into my head? Is there some kind of emergency going on back at the capitol?”
“I simply wanted to try and get a greater understanding about your heart,” she said.
“Metaphorically or physically?”
“Physically. How is it put together, and how does it work?”
“Well, the human heart is divided up into a number of chambers, each designed to help pump blood back and forth through the body. The right side of the heart draws blood that is lacking in oxygen and sends it past the lungs. Then the blood flows through the left side of the heart and is distributed through the vascular system. Each chamber in the heart has a natural valve that a person is born with. In my case, one of those valves failed. Most doctors say it’s a miracle I survived to be diagnosed and treated.” He frowned. “Is there a way I can show you what I’m thinking in here?”
“It’s your dream. If you will it, it can happen.”
Matthew nodded. “All right, then let me try to show you what I mean.” He closed his eyes and concentrated. A few moments later, a beating heart appeared in the air in front of them. The heart was then cut in half to reveal its inner workings. Four flaps pushed open and shut with each pulse of the organ. “Now, the organic valves here are designed to pump blood without trouble.” A few more moments of concentration yielded a small device with flaps shaped like air vent covers that appeared in his hand.
“This is an example of one model of valve that our scientists have developed. It functions based on the same principle. The heart pumps the blood, and the pressure of the blood forces the valves open to pass through. Then it clamps shut again as the heart finishes its contraction and relaxes.” He sighed and held out the valve. “But unlike the natural valves of the heart, this is a foreign object, mechanical instead of organic. And as a result, it requires certain … adjustments in the host to maintain its functionality. Without my blood thinners, my body would do what it’s meant to do naturally. Platelets and coagulants would attach to the foreign object and gum up the works, stopping the valve from working.” The valve in his hand became coated in thick red gunk that gradually solidified into a snotty clotted mass. “This could lock it open, or worse, gum it shut as a result, causing the pressure in the chamber of my heart to build and build until….” The open view of one of the chambers in the heart began to fill with more and more blood as the organ continued to pump. Finally, the chamber began to bulge and throb. With one last forceful surge, the wall burst open, sending a shower of blood and plasma out into the air to fade into nothingness with the rest of the projections.
“I see.” Luna nodded. “It is an interesting predicament our own medical professionals find themselves in. As I understand it, with you, had they found your issue before the artificial valve was put in, they might have fixed it, but it is the valve itself that is the rub. They have no idea how to work around it.”
“If they tried, I would probably die on the operating table,” Matthew said seriously. “Our doctors developed a machine specifically to keep the body functioning while operating on the heart or lungs. Without such a machine or technique that would have a similar effect, I doubt they would be able to help me.”
“How have the potions been working?” she asked.
Matthew shrugged. “Honestly, I don’t know. I seem to be doing all right, but at the same time, there are some things that are different. It’s getting harder to wake up in the mornings. I often feel sluggish, and I tire more easily. I don’t know how much of that could be related to my blood or to our present circumstances or maybe to the potions themselves as a side effect. I just know that it’s happening.”
“I see.” Luna nodded gravely. “We are doing everything we can to find a solution,” she said.
Matthew smiled sadly. “And I do appreciate that kindness, Princess. Thank you. Just … do me a favor, please. Don’t tell Shawn and Taze about this. I don’t want them to worry.”
“I’ll keep quiet on it.” Luna nodded. “Just please keep us up to date, so we can help as much as we can.”
Matthew’s smile twitched into a more humorous curve. “Is that a hint to visit a doctor?”
“No, simply a note,” Luna said.
Matthew nodded. “I’ll see what I can do. Is there a way I can send my reports discreetly?”
“We should be working on having some dragonfire lanterns sent to you three soon,” Luna promised.
“That’s actually a thing? I didn’t know you could bottle Dragon fire.”
“It’s not easily done, and usually requires a source, but Celestia obviously had a direct source for some time.”
Matthew frowned. “As long as it doesn’t hurt the Dragon.”
“It does not,” Luna assured him.
“All right.” Matthew nodded. “Thank you, Princess. I’ll make sure to send you reports on how I’m feeling once the lanterns are delivered. Was there anything else I could help you with in the meantime while you’re here?”
“No. I'm afraid I have more work yet to do,” Luna said. “Part of my duty is to look after the dreams of all our subjects in the kingdom. Will you be all right?”
Matthew nodded. “Yeah. I’ll be fine.”
“Then until we meet again, Matthew Connor.”
The Alicorn princess ascended with a flap of her wings, and then was gone in a flash of light. Matthew turned back toward the machine as his dream resumed, and he entered into the hold that would be either his dream self’s salvation or his death.
In the spectral paths that flowed outside the door to Matthew's dream, Princess Luna frowned, then shook her head as her face set in determination. “We will find a solution for you, Matthew Connor,” she said under her breath. “We swear it.”
It was a normal day in Ponyville. The cold weather blew as the recruits tended to the black trees and hauled them away for use in construction and crafting. The three friends each strode in their full winter cloaks, taking shelter in their protection as a bitter wind blew out from the forest, almost as if the land mass were snarling at them. And that would have continued as such, were it not for an even greater cry that was part scream and part groan, followed immediately by a bright purple flash of light and the sight of a massive tree jumping stories above the town before gravity asserted itself again and the living building plummeted to the ground. The shockwave soon followed, blowing back against the forest and leaving more than a few of the troops wild-eyed at what had just happened.
“What the hay was that?” Matthew asked as he stared back at the open air where the tree had once been suspended.
“Oh, that was just Twilight having a meltdown over a big test Princess Celestia wants to give her.” The casual nature with which the pink mare spoke belied the stealth with which she had suddenly appeared at Matthew’s side.
Naturally, this did not go well.
Matthew screamed his surprise and jumped back from the mare. Afterward, he patted his chest as he hunched forward and gave controlled breaths. “Pinkie pie!” he gasped. “Don’t do that!”
Pinkie Pie giggled. “Do what, silly?”
“Sneak up on me. Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”
“That depends.” Pinkie approached and whipped out a basket from her mane. “If you mean my super duper ultra sweet heart attack cupcakes, then yes!” She placed one in Matthew’s palms, then lobbed the rest with expert aim to land down each Pony worker’s gullet. “That ought to put a little spring into your step.”
Matthew looked to his cupcake, then to the workers, then to the basket, which Pinkie was rapidly replacing in the depths of her mane, a thing which was absolutely scientifically impossible. His eye began to twitch, and he groaned as he smacked his forehead and shook it. “It’s Pinkie Pie, don’t question it. It’s Pinkie Pie, don’t question it. It’s Pinkie Pie, don’t question it,” he muttered under his breath like an incantation. Finally, he managed to regain his composure. “Pinkie, I’m … sort of like Twilight is, okay? If you can somehow break the laws of physics or even just bend them with whatever it is you do, please, please, please try not to do it around me. For the sake of my sanity,” he begged.
Pinkie cocked her head to the side and raised a brow in confusion at the human. Finally, she shrugged and smiled. “Okie dokie!” she promised. “But only if I’m not pranking you.”
“Pranking?” But the mare was already gone, bouncing like a spring along the path, complete with sound effects.
“See you three at the castle!” she said by way of farewell.
Matthew groaned, then blinked in surprise. “Wait, did she just say what I think she said?”
“I get the feeling our presence is soon to be requested,” Shawn remarked with a frown.
“I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” Taze said. He wore his cloak looser than his two friends. The winters here were mild compared to what he was used to back on Earth.
“Chrysalis level of bad feeling or something more like the existential dread of an incoming crisis?” Matthew asked.
“Yes,” Taze said
“Yes, what?”
“Yes,” Taze said, shrugging
Matthew frowned. “I don’t get it.”
“Yes to all of the above,” Shawn clarified. “A feeling I can agree with.”
“Oh.” At that moment, a gust of wind carried blue fragments of paper that quickly assembled themselves into a complete scroll. This time, Matthew caught it before it could hit the ground, then passed it to Shawn. “And we’ve got mail.”
“Joy.” He sighed as he unrolled the scroll.
To our dear friends of Earth,
Greetings. We write this letter to you now for two reasons. The first pertains to a gift of sorts that we believe will be useful to the three of you during the course of your stay in Equestria. The latter is a matter that we do not feel comfortable writing, even with the guarantee of delivery that Dragonfire provides. It is a matter of some urgency. Therefore, we request your presence at the palace at your earliest convenience. Rest assured, we shall reimburse any expenses that the trip should require. As one who hopes to be considered a trusted friend, we beg you to come quickly.
Your Friend in Battle,
HRH Princess Luna Galaxia
Shawn hummed after reading the letter. “It looks like we’ve got a trip to make. Wrap up anything you need to deal with and I’ll see to getting some tickets.”
“We’ll need to organize the troops,” Matthew noted. “Who do we want to supervise while we’re gone?”
“Moonshade will be the best for the job.”
“And maybe one or two of the more seasoned recruits,” Matthew agreed. “They can work as aides de camp.”
“I’ll look into the tickets while you manage that, then.” Shawn frowned as he thought over things. “Beyond that, we’ll need to figure out something for Mutatio and Me-Me.”
“Maybe we can slip them in as aides to Moonshade as well?” Matthew suggested. “Then they won’t be far away from anyone that can protect them in the event of an attack.”
“I’ll leave that to you.” Shawn nodded. “Taze, anything on your end?”
“Not really.” Taze shrugged
“Then let’s get this over with. We’ll meet at the Punch Bowl after we finish preparing for departure.” He waved his farewell as his cloak fluttered behind him. “See you two later.”
Taze nodded and headed for the door. He took his time making his way through the town until he came to the end of the path to Fluttershy's cottage. The mare was just closing the door when he strode over the edge of the hill.
“Oh, Taze. Sorry I didn’t see you coming. I was just finishing closing up.”
“I just came to check on Sylvio,” Taze said. “But it looks like you’re leaving.”
“Twilight got a letter calling her to the capitol. The rest of the girls and I want to be there to support her and congratulate her after she passes. You … may not know, but she’s awfully nervous about tests. At least if they come from Princess Celestia.”
Taze nodded. “We actually have to head out there, too. I just wanted to check if the little guy was going to be all right while I’m gone?”
“Oh, yes. I left instructions for the animal friends who are staying with me in my cottage for the winter. They know what to do. I explained that I shouldn’t be gone too long, and Sylvio promised to be good while I was away. Did you want to see him before I go? The train won’t be here for a while yet, and the girls want to surprise Twilight by taking the next one after she goes.”
“If you wouldn’t mind a few minutes?”
“Of course. He’ll be happy to see you again. Wolves can function without an alpha to guide them, but they prefer to maintain contact with each other when possible.” She smiled and opened the door to reveal an open floor, where a white bundle of sticks cocked its head. Sylvio’s eyes widened as the light flared with excitement. Moments later, he bounded at the human, pouncing for his chest.
“Hey there, buddy.” Taze smiled as he held the pup gently, taking a small step back from the impact. “You doing well?”
Sylvio responded by licking the human’s cheeks and face as much as possible.
“Well, I’ll take that as a yes,” he laughed, then held the pup away to keep him from blocking what he had to say. In true puppy fashion, Sylvio squirmed cutely as his tail and rear wagged and swung in the air. “Listen. I need to go on a trip. I’ll be back, but I won't be able to visit you for a while, okay?”
Sylvio barked and continued to wriggle.
“He says he’ll wait for you to come again and can’t wait to play. Oh, and he’s asking you to bring back some sort of treat, too.”
“I’ll keep an eye out for something special,” he promised. “Love you, buddy.”
Sylvio barked again, and his eyes shifted into slits as he panted happily and let his tongue loll in acknowledgement of his happiness.
“He says he loves you, too.”
The warmth of steam wafted from the train platform as Ponies tended to the engine and worked to load bags. The sky above was overcast as the humans gathered next to the carts.
Matthew grinned as he gazed over the train’s cars. “We get to ride again!” He practically squealed his excitement as he looked over the various cars. “I hope they won’t mind if I take another stroll through the train. I can’t wait to compare models!”
“Calm down, Vulpix,” Taze Laughed.
“Calm down? Calm down? When we get the chance to deal with living history? Taze, you know me. I don’t just like trains. I love them! It’s like we’re stepping into an Agatha Christie novel!”
“I think we could live without the Murder on the Orient Express,” Shawn said blandly. “It’s bad enough that we’re being called to Canterlot at the same time as Twilight. You know that can’t be a coincidence.”
“There are no coincidences,” Taze said, doing his best Oogway impression.
“Isn’t that quote supposed to be, ‘There are no accidents?’” Matthew asked.
“Yeah, but that didn’t fit the situation,” Taze laughed.
“If they bring in a real dragon scroll, I’m out,” Matthew said. “Ask me to shoot something, I can do that no problem. Ask me to do martial arts and I’m up a creek without a paddle.”
“Given the nature of our beings, yeah.” Shawn shrugged. “In any case, it shouldn’t be much longer.”
“All aboard!” the conductor shouted. His blue uniform stood out sharply against the dull stones of the platform. “All aboard for the train to Canterlot Station!”
“Convenient,” Matthew noted as he hefted a bag over a shoulder and strode toward one of the train carts.
Taze shrugged and followed.
“Let’s get this over with,” Shawn sighed as he joined them.
“And now I have The Wizard of Oz playing through my head.” Matthew chuckled as he took a seat and began to hum the familiar tune.
“I still don’t like this,” Taze said.
“Oh, it certainly screams that something is going to happen,” Shawn agreed. “I just hope we’re put in the loop this time.”
“Didn’t Princess Luna imply that in her letter?” Matthew asked.
“Being told something doesn’t mean we’re fully in the loop.” Shawn frowned. “I could tell you that we’re building a camp in Ponyville. And while that is true, it doesn’t explain the reason for it, or what’s going on further.”
“Do you really think she would do that, though?”
“I don’t know.” Shawn sighed. “I want to believe she’ll do us right, but… I can’t help but feel anxious about it all.”
“I guess all we can do for now is take things one step at a time,” Matthew said. “That, and enjoy the ride.” He grinned. “What to hear some train trivia?”
As it had been before, the trio of friends now stood before the doors to Luna’s private quarters. A heavy knock heralded their arrival as the guards gazed with the level intent of trained warriors. The Thestrals were patient and courteous, but no entry would be allowed until the Princess saw fit to grant it. Shortly after the guard entered to alert Luna, the trio found themselves shuffled in to face the mare. The room was much the same, though the hammer that had once been sealed now hovered in place to await its mistress’ call.
“Welcome, my friends,” she said, smiling. “I hope your trip went well?”
“As well as it could.” Shawn nodded. “It’s good to see you again, Luna. Though, I hope the reason for needing us wasn’t too dire?”
“It’s a bit more complicated, actually. I’m sure you're aware Twilight Sparkle was called by my sister as well.”
“Given that we saw her at the station on her way here as well, we figured as much.”
“So this has to do with whatever Princess Celestia has in mind for Twilight?” Matthew asked. “You’re not asking us to be bodyguards for her, are you?”
“An anomaly has recently been reported by our scouts. The Crystal Empire, an ancient civilization which vanished ages ago, has recently reappeared to our north. Despite my own reasoning, my sister has decided to send Twilight Sparkle and her friends to aid Princess Cadance and Shining Armor in stabilizing it, and only them.”
“Is this going to follow the usual cliche of falling into the wrong hands leading to devastating consequences kind of thing?” Matthew asked.
“That depends on whether spreading dark magic throughout Equestria qualifies as devastating consequences.” Celestia appeared in a flash of sunlight as she looked to the trio. “The answer doesn’t require stating. However, I know that Twilight will succeed in her task. You needn’t worry about that. I wish to send you three to the Crystal Empire for a different reason.”
“And that reason would be...?” Shawn inquired.
“During the course of our rule, there was a certain Unicorn whose actions proved helpful in protecting the kingdom from various threats. His name has become a legend of sorts in the modern day. This stallion was called Star Swirl the Bearded. Before the time of his disappearance from the world, he studied all manner of magics, including a spell that was capable of opening a portal into other worlds. It’s a well known fact that Star Swirl had a laboratory in which he performed much of his research to refine that spell. If you can locate that lab and retrieve that information, we may be able to provide you with the means to return to your homes. It’s a long shot, but it’s the best lead that we have to help you right now.”
Shawn hummed for a moment. “Fair enough, I suppose.” He glanced at the others. “Your thoughts?”
“I’d like a risk assessment, personally,” Matthew said. “It seems to me Twilight is always sent when there’s a great evil about to take place. What’s the threat this time, and how likely are we to encounter it while we’re in the city?”
Celestia’s face grew grave. “The threat is very great indeed. Long ago, the Crystal Empire was ruled by wise and just Ponies whose magic was intricately tied into the running of the kingdom itself. So long as a kind and just ruler reigned, light, love, and peace would spread across Equestria, augmenting and strengthening the magic of all of its Pony denizens. Unfortunately, there came a time when a dark sorcerer deposed the rightful ruler and seized control of the empire for himself. Through evil enchantments, he enslaved the empire and sought to spread his control throughout Equestria. Only by great sacrifice and a united effort were we able to defeat King Sombra. Unfortunately, we couldn’t stop him from casting a curse that banished the empire from existence. A careful analysis of the magic traces left behind yielded an understanding that while potent, the spell would not last forever. Since that day, we have kept a vigil over the lands to the north, waiting for the day when our ally of old would return again, so that we might finish what we started.”
“And you’re just sending Twilight and her friends?” Shawn questioned.
“There are certain facts that have led to this decision. In part, because we wish to take our enemy by surprise. If we were to attempt to send a detachment of soldiers, it would only alarm the populace of the empire. Intelligence from Shining Armor indicates that the Ponies in the city are experiencing a form of mental trauma. An armed incursion will only serve to further unbalance them in a time when they need to heal for their magic to work properly and not be exploited by our enemy. Secondly, the true heir to the throne and its power is there under a close guard to ensure her safety and ultimate transition into power. The third reason is a state secret, and one which I expect you to keep to yourselves. Do I have your word that you will do so?”
“Fine.” Taze shrugged.
“Full disclosure is certainly better than what we had before,” Matthew agreed. “If a little secret keeping is the trade-off, I think I can handle it.”
After a moment of silence from Shawn, he sighed. “I’ll accept as well.”
Celestia nodded. “Thank you. As you all know, I am bound to the sun, just as Luna is bound to the moon. As a result of this connection, I am granted occasional glimpses into the future; premonitions, if you will. Likewise, Luna also holds this ability. I can’t will these visions to come to me, but when they do, they always come true. I have seen their success at the empire, and there were no troops to be seen. I dare not put that future in jeopardy by mustering an army, particularly if the anxiety and negative emotions generated by such a body could lead to hastening Sombra’s return.”
Shawn sighed once again. “And I suppose this is also a means of securing our safety as well, since victory is to be obtained by them.”
“Your mission will be equally important, not only for yourselves and your journey home but to prevent that information from falling into Sombra’s grasp. His priority will be power. If he were to gain access to portal magic of that nature, the future I foresaw could be put in peril. However, since humans are an unknown species in the empire, we can’t have you traveling as you are.” She smiled at her sister. “Luna, if you would do the honors?”
“With your allowance, we will be casting a spell on the three of you to change your appearance temporarily. Your disguises will be based on an approximation of what you’d be if you had been born here instead of Earth.”
“What determines this approximation?” Matthew asked. “Did you perform some sort of psychological analysis or something?”
Celestia shook her head. “The magic will decide. We could try to influence it if we wished, but that would be counterintuitive to helping you adjust to these forms in the first place.”
“We promise this is simply a measure to make this easier,” Luna said.
“I … actually have something that I should bring up first, if that’s the case,” Shawn spoke up. “I haven’t been able to determine it fully for everyone just yet, but at the very least, I may have … discovered a field of magic that we three may have the capability of wielding. The reason I bring this up … is because I’m not too sure how it might react to that.”
“What do you mean?” Celestia asked.
“And I’m sorry, but did you just say that we have magic?” Matthew asked.
“Maybe,” Shawn remarked. “I haven’t been able to fully check with everyone, but … here, let me show you.” He sighed as he held up his hand. After a few seconds a soft blue glow began to surround his hand before cutting out. “I’m still trying to figure it out fully, but it appears to be connected to a book I found recently and began translating. The power is called thaumaturgy.”
“And this power is supposed to block their spell somehow?” Matthew asked.
“It apparently reacts to outside influences defensively, so I don’t know.”
“Even if we let it happen?” Taze asked
“That’s the thing. We may be willing, but it may be harmful to it? I don’t know everything just yet, so I can’t fully explain whether or not it would be completely safe.” Shawn frowned. “In any case, if we are going to do this, given what I know already, I’d rather be the test subject myself first.”
Celestia looked at her sister, then back to Shawn. “If that is what you wish, we can work together to ensure that you are able to receive this spell. Does the book tell you anything about pain being involved in overcoming this … passive resistance?”
“I have no idea. I haven’t been able to translate it that far, as of this point.”
“And you’re still willing to take this risk? You needn’t go if you feel that this could be dangerous.”
“If it could help in finding a way home for us, I’m willing to take the risk.”
Celestia nodded. “Very well. Brace yourself, then, Shawn. And try to relax. I will strive to make this as swift and painless as possible.” The spell began by weaving what looked to be golden ribbons in the form of a great cocoon. It surrounded Shawn’s body, then slowly began to squeeze as Celestia pumped more of her magic into her horn. “If anything goes wrong, tell me, and I will reverse the spell immediately.”
The wrappings congealed into a solid form without layering and continued to press closer and closer to Shawn’s body until an almost perfect silhouette of light formed. However, as the coating tightened, it suddenly began to bulge and press at various locations around the body, forcing the power back and away from his skin.
“Shawn?” Celestia called.
“Go for it,” he called back. “Complete it by force if you need to!”
Celestia recoiled slightly as the bond roiled and the seams began to show again. She nodded, then flared her wings and raised her head high. The light around her horn became an intense projection as bright as the sun she directed during the day. “This may singe a little,” she warned. Then she brought her head down and thrust her horn forward like an epee in motion. The cocoon regained its integrity, and its squeezing continued, pushing and crushing against face, arms, torso, and legs. Nothing escaped. The roiling grew weaker and weaker as the scent of burning hairs filled the air briefly.
And then it happened. Piece by piece, Shawn’s body began to lengthen and shift. Mittened hands merged into solid blobs. The face protruded forward as two long pointed ears shifted up the sides of the head. The body hunched forward and gradually clopped heavily to the floor as the spine and hips realigned for quadrupedal movement. Arms lengthened to match hind legs that were rapidly transforming into a proper set of equine hindquarters, complete with tail. Lastly, a mane sprouted from the new head and down his neck before the light finally broke apart to reveal a newly formed Earth Pony surrounded by scorch marks. The stallion’s fur was a light tan with a dark brown mane. His eyes were closed, his teeth bared in a grimace that gradually softened as he breathed in relief.
“Shawn?” Matthew asked uncertainly.
Two intense blue orbs were revealed as Shawn opened his eyes. “T-tha…. That … was not pleasant,” he finally said, though it had taken him a moment to form the words.
“How do you feel? Are you hurt?” Celestia asked.
“Not at the moment.” He took a breath as he blinked a few times. “It is fading. I’ll be fine.”
“Can you walk?”
Shawn took a moment to lift each leg as he attempted to tie the muscles to a part of his mind. After a few moments, he slowly began to take a few steps that, while clumsy at first, quickly started to move in a more coordinated fashion.
Celestia sighed in relief. “No negative effects.” Then she nodded. “In that case, we should probably get started with you two next. Who wants to go first?”
“Probably best if I take the next go, so you have it down for Matthew,” Taze said as he stepped forward.
“Very well, Luna said as her horn began to glow brightly. “Let us see who you are, then.”
Silver and dark blue ribbons of magic formed Taze’s cocoon this time, and he did his best to will the spell to happen in order to avoid what Shawn had experienced. Soon, he too was covered as the magic congealed and began to enclose upon him. There was no roiliing or bubbles, though, as his body began to shift. However, unlike Shawn, the form that Taze began to manifest was anything but equine. Fingers lengthened and stretched into large sharpened talons. His head molded and reformed into a distinctly birdlike profile, complete with a hooked beak as his legs and feet transformed into powerful feline paws and hindquarters. A long feline trail grew out behind him as large wings erupted from his broadening back. When the magic receded, it revealed a black gryphon resembling a panther and a raven. His breast and the tips of his crest were a deep green. And when he opened his sharp eyes, they were an intense shade of dark blue.
Taze stumbled as the spell finished its work, and he hit the ground. “I feel weird,” he said. “Ish there something on my back?” he slurred, then stopped as his wings twitched and spasmed.
“He is all right,” Luna said as she checked him. “His body is getting used to the changes and his new wings.”
Matthew breathed a sigh of relief. “No stroke, then. Good.” Then he looked between the two sisters. “I guess that just leaves me now, huh?”
Celestia nodded. “Luna, would you mind? Performing that spell on Shawn was more difficult than it appeared.”
Luna nodded. “Of course, sister.”
Much like Taze, the magic wrapped around Matthew’s body to transform him. He also developed a pair of wings, though on a much smaller scale. Dark blue fur shone glossily over his hooves. As if a ribbon of the silver magic had decided to meld with his being, his mane and tail became shockingly white and seemed almost to glow as his new hooves clopped on the ground. Vivid eyes sparked with the familiar fire of his new species. Since he knew what to expect, he braced his legs and breathed deeply.
“Well,” he started, “that … was something.” He chuckled. “My heart’s beating a mile a minute.” He froze suddenly, and his eyes widened. “My heart’s beating a mile a minute, … and I don’t feel anything. Is this … am I…?” He put a hoof to his throat in an attempt to take a pulse, forgetting that he no longer had fingers with which to check. “Somebody do a scan of my body. Please.”
Celestia nodded, even as Matthew’s new wings shot out and flared in his excitement. Her horn glowed, and she pushed her magic over the former human to analyze his body, as requested. Then understanding dawned, and she smiled as she cut off her magic. “Congratulations, Matthew. You’re a whole and healthy Pegasus.” She approached and tapped the tip of her horseshoe against the Pony’s chest. “With a heart to match.”
“I have a real heart,” Matthew breathed. Then he crowed at the top of his lungs as his wings flapped, and he was suddenly airborne, nearly striking the ceiling. “I have a real heart!” A swift seizing of his body in Celestia’s magical grip saved him from a very ungraceful crash landing, but no sooner was he upright on the ground then he was bounding toward his friends. He didn’t care how much he stumbled or tripped. He could run. He could fall. He could bleed and not have to worry about not being able to stop it. The new Pagasus laughed exultantly as tears spilled from his eyes. “Guys! Guys!”
“You okay?” Taze smirked
“Is the sky blue? Is the grass green? Do I have bucking feathers?” Matthew laughed again as he wrapped his forelegs around Taze’s new neck in a great hug, then zipped over to Luna with the speed that his new Pony tribe was best known for to give her the same treatment. “Thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you!” It was hard to tell how much was sob and how much laughter at this point, but it was all Matthew. Energetic, ecstatic, and truly whole for the first time in his life.
“It was nothing.” Luna smiled gently, then let loose a laugh of her own. “Truly, I didn’t expect it. But I am glad for you, Matthew of Earth. Very glad, indeed.”
“Are these forms indefinite?” Shawn asked after a moment.
“Until we undo the spell, yes,” Celestia said. “You won’t need to worry about changing back in an awkward situation.”
“That’s good to know.” He nodded in thought. “This will certainly take some getting used to.”
Matthew giggled as he twisted his head around and looked at his flank. “I have a cutie mark!” And indeed, he did. A quill feather was crossed with a sword, as if in preparation for a duel. “What’s yours, Shawn?”
“It appears to be a smithing hammer,” Shawn replied as he looked.
“Well, I guess that makes sense. You did forge those gifts for us. But I honestly thought you would’ve been a shoe-in for something closer to woodworking,” Matthew said.
“I suppose it wasn’t meant to be here?” He shrugged awkwardly in response before making a face. “These motions are going to take some getting used to.”
Matthew smirked. “It’s a bit easier when you’ve got wings. Shoulders work differently for quadrupeds.” Then he grinned as he looked at his new appendages. “I’ve got wings.”
“So do I,” Taze smirked.
“There is one other matter to attend to in order to make your disguises complete,” Celestia noted.
“I would assume you’re referring to names,” Shawn spoke up. “Given ours don’t match the nature of how you’re all named.”
“Indeed,” Celestia agreed. “You are doubtless at least somewhat familiar with how our culture names their children. It should be a simple matter for the two of you to pick new names. As for you, Taze, Gryphon culture is different from that of Ponies. Their names can be singular or many depending on their clan and bloodlines, among other factors. In your case, it would be best to portray yourself as a clanless with no particular family ties. That will help to ease any anxieties that the Crystal Ponies might have over you and also justify using a single name. It will also allow you to avoid any attention that you might not want from other Gryphons.”
“Grif.” Taze shrugged. “Might keep people guessing.”
“That, and it’s short for Griffin, right?” Matthew guessed.
He shrugged again. “I’m not great with names.”
“Well, I guess I’ll keep it simple, too. The pen is mightier than the sword, but now I can use both if I want to and not have to worry about collapsing.” He grinned. “Call me Pensword.”
Shawn hummed as he looked at his mark once more. After a few seconds of silence, he finally looked back to the others. “Hammer Strike. Seems fitting enough.”
Celestia nodded. “Excellent. In that case, gentlemen, we have one last thing to iron out for this journey, that being your backstories. Officially, you have been contracted by the crown to escort Twilight and any others she sees fit to bring with her safely to the Crystal Empire. Once there, you will be free to carry out your other orders. We’ll include a letter bearing our seal to invest you with the necessary authorization and authority if Shining Armor questions you.”
“Okay, then. Will there be anyone who will know who we are, or is it a complete lockdown on our identities?”
“We leave it to your judgment. If you wish to disclose your identities, you may to those who already know your other forms.”
Shawn hummed. “Honestly, it may be an idea for Twilight to know to assist with alleviating potential suspicion.”
Celestia frowned. “Twilight can be nervous when she worries about disappointing me. If there’s a way you can help her to put her fears to rest and focus more on helping the Ponies in need there, I would appreciate it. She trusts you all. Particularly you, Shawn.”
“I might be able to do so.” He nodded.
“Then in that case, you had best make ready. Our armory is at your disposal. I also suggest you prepare for a fight and dress for cold weather. The empire lies in the far northern reaches of Equestria. When you’ve finished your preparations, we’ll have you escorted to the train to join Twilight.”
“Sounds good. Gives us time to adjust, at least to a point.”
Celestia nodded. “Sister, if you would?”
Luna nodded and summoned her escort. It didn’t take long to explain who the strangers were and what their orders were to be. With the new assignment given, the trio were swiftly escorted from the room to begin their preparations while Luna closed the door to gaze at her sister. “That was … strange,” Luna commented when they were alone.
“Strange is putting it mildly, Lulu,” Celestia said gravely. “We’re both thinking it. I’m just saying it. The manner of speech, the level exterior, and now the form he’s taken as a result of the spell I cast. It can’t just be a coincidence.” She shook her head.
“And the others,” Luna agreed. “You and Grif never did get along, did you?”
Celestia shuddered. “I keep half expecting him to pop up out of nowhere and call me Sunbutt. It’s uncanny. And if this really is that Pensword, it would certainly explain a thing or two about his intense loyalty to you. He always said you gave him a life.”
“You didn’t alter the spell?”
“How could I have? I was still recovering from the struggle to change Shawn.” She shook her head. “No. It seems that if he’d been born here, he never would have had the complications he faced on Earth. That’s the only explanation I can think of.”
“I feel like things have been set in motion we cannot yet fully understand.”
Celestia smiled ruefully. “Isn’t that just the story of our lives?”
“We should probably keep up the names, even alone, just to keep ourselves from slipping up later,” the newly-dubbed Hammer Strike spoke up as he looked through the available supplies for them to take.
“Are we going to bring armor with us or do you think it’d be better to go without for now?” Pensword asked curiously.
“I’d say light armor at best?” Hammer Strike hummed. “It’d help with the whole, ‘keeping the calm.’”
“Makes sense to me. This is all still kind of strange for me to believe,” Pensword said. “I can run faster than I ever could as a human, and now I can actually fly if I want to. Probably not well, but at least I can do it,” he said, even as his wings lifted him off the floor to hover briefly before he dropped back to all fours again. “Maybe I should ask Rainbow Dash for some pointers later. After we don’t have to hide who we are anymore, I mean.”
“Until then, we’ll just have to come up with a reason why you’re grounded.”
Pensword’s wings raised in a shrug. “I’ll just say I prefer to walk. If Fluttershy can get away with it, so can I.”
“Whatever works,” Hammer Strike replied before turning to Grif. “Anything you think you’ll need?”
“Aside from time?” Grif shrugged. “A bandolier, some kind of weapons harness, and a bag of holding, if those are a thing.”
“The first thing, I think I see. Second thing, I don’t know if they have anything for a Gryphon. Beyond that, I think you’re asking for something they don’t have a stockpile of.” He shrugged in return.
“Well, I'm just being honest,” Grif said. “I don’t feel comfortable going into this without weapons, you know?”
“That’s fair.” Hammer Strike frowned. “It still feels strange that this has become our norm.” He sighed. “In any case, get what we can. We don’t have long before the train arrives. Twilight’s already been informed, so we just need to meet her there before the arrival of the others.”
Pensword nodded. “I guess I’ll look for old faithful, then.” He approached a rack and picked up one of the bows. “Do you think I should grab a sword as well?”
“Whatever you’re comfortable with, or at least believe you will be quick enough to pick up.” Hammer Strike looked to the new sword at his side. “Though, previous equipment is obviously off the table.”
Grif took a pair of long swords and a set of throwing blades. After some hesitation, he grabbed a bow and quiver as well.
“If this is like Chrysalis, I suppose we should be ready for minions,” Pensword mused. “Do you think we might be able to find some background on Sombra’s magic and troops before we get on the train?”
“I don’t know if we have the time,” Taze said, testing the pull. “Besides, there is no real armor meant for Gryphons available, so I’m gonna have to check on that once we get there.”
“Even if we do find armor there, will it even be practical?” Pensword asked. “I mean, it’s an ancient society, right?”
Hammer Strike frowned. “I don’t know if that really matters.”
The trio were swift to arrive at the platform. For the sake of appearances, their escort was kept light. Twilight and the rest of her friends, along with Spike, were all waiting at the station. The Unicorn looked confident as she smiled at five very confused mares. Spike was struggling with a massive pile of luggage.
“So, … I’m guessing this is the station?” Grif spoke up.
“It certainly looks that way,” Pensword agreed. He offered a courteous nod in their direction. “Ladies,” he greeted them. “I assume Miss Sparkle has informed you of our coming?”
“I … was actually getting to that,” Twilight said awkwardly as she looked at her friends. “Princess Celestia has a special mission that she wants these three to perform while we work with Shining and Cadance to help save the empire.”
“Pleasure working with you.” Grif offered a small nod.
“Wonderful, marvelous,” Rarity said. “A mare could always do with a gentlemanly escort.” She smiled. “But enough banter. It’s rude not to introduce yourself to a future teammate.” She extended a hoof. “Rarity Belle. A pleasure to make your acquaintance.” She gestured to the other mares. “And these are Applejack, Pinkie Pie, Fluttershy, Rainbow Dash, and the cute little Dragon is my widdle Spikey Wikey,” she said cutely as she gushed over the young drake. “And I assume you already know Twilight, by reputation if not by sight.”
“Grif,” Grif offered flatly.
“I am called Pensword,” Pensword said by way of greeting.
“And I am Hammer Strike. A pleasure,” Hammer Strike replied with a small grin.
Twilight’s eyes widened at the words. “That’s … quite a name to live up to,” she noted. “Did you come from a military family? There aren’t a lot of Ponies outside the nobility and the Guard who’ve even heard of it.”
Hammer Strike gave a small smile and shook his head. “Not quite. Though some of my family have served.”
“So, you know a thing or two about how to fight, huh?” Rainbow Dash smirked. “Good to know.”
“Rainbow Dash, if Princess Celestia asked them to come with us, then they’re probably very good at … whatever it is she wants them to do,” Fluttershy chided. “We shouldn’t be rude.”
“Well, it’s awful nice to have y’all on board with us. I say the more the merrier,” Applejack said with a welcoming smile.
Pinkie Pie giggled as she passed three cupcakes to the warriors. Their surfaces read Bon Voyage in crystalline chunks of ground rock candy. “We’re gonna have so much fun on this adventure!”
“Thank you,” Pensword said before taking a bite of the confection. Then he frowned. “Um, Miss Pinkie Pie, … are you sure these are cupcakes? They taste like muffins. Very good muffins, but muffins all the same.”
“Do you like it? I call it my Cupcake Imposter Surprise.” She giggled. “Just call me the Muffin Mare! Or don’t. I’m not Derpy, after all.” She licked her lips. “Now she knows how to make some muffins.”
“Pinkie.” Twilight sighed and rolled her eyes, then smiled helplessly at the mare. “Thanks. I needed that to help me feel better.”
Hammer Strike gave a brief chuckle. “I’m certain your friends will keep your mood positive.”
“I wouldn’t do anything like this without them by my side,” Twilight agreed. “Together, I’m certain we’ll save the Crystal Empire and all of Equestria.”
“I’m sure of that.” He smiled softly. “Now, if I remember correctly, the train should be arriving soon, right?”
“Princess Celestia ordered it specifically for the trip. The station out there is old, but the rails have been maintained, so we shouldn’t have any trouble arriving in the northern reaches. We should reach the platform sometime tomorrow evening.”
Pensword’s ear twitched. “I think I hear it coming.”
Rainbow Dash raised a skeptical brow. “Seriously?”
Pensword shrugged. “My hearing is sharper than most. That’s one of the reasons why I’ve been brought onto this mission.”
A few moments later, the echo of the train whistle could be heard. A few minutes later, the engine settled into the station while Pensword smiled smugly.
“You are not normal, Pensword,” Grif chuckled
“And I thank my maker for that every day.” The stallion approached one of the train cars and pulled open the door. “Shall we?”
The new Gryphon swiftly covered his mouth as his attempt at a yawn started coming out as a roar. “Well, that's … new,” he commented to no one in particular as he looked around the cabin. Darkness enshrouded the space, and yet as he looked over the prone forms of the Ponies and Dragon sleeping, he could see almost perfectly. Taking a seat, he looked at his hand, or rather the assorted retractable bladed talons that had at one time been a much less lethal part of his hands. “This is all going to take some getting used to.”
A cursory bed count revealed one occupant of the carriage wasn’t asleep and … also wasn’t occupying said carriage. Instead of concern or fear, the Gryphon shrugged and strode to the door connecting their car to the next one over, curious to what his newly Ponified friend might be up to. The ease with which he crept silently across the floor went unnoticed to his semi-sleepy mind. He rubbed his eyes casually to brush the last of the sleep out of them as he turned the knob to open the way into the next car.
What sleep remained was quickly blown from his mind as his ears were struck by the barrage of sound coming from the wheels churning and clattering along the tracks with the creak of the swaying coupler and the roar of wind mingled with the heavy chuff of the steam engine. He practically leaped into the next car and slammed the door behind him.
On the other side, the Gryphon found “Hammer Strike” drawing out a design on an extendable table, like he usually did at this hour of the night.
Grif nodded and sighed in bliss as the reduced noise. “Yeah. Woke up and realized you weren’t around, so I thought I’d check in on you.”
Hammer Strike nodded. “Fair enough. I’ve just been adjusting to our current situation. So far, at the very least, I’ve got most of my standard functions down.”
“Walking’s easy enough,” Grif agreed. “Still have no idea on the flight, though. Also a lot easier on the eyes right now than during the day.”
“Now you understand my pain.” Hammer Strike chuckled. “But I’m sure you’ll manage flying in time.”
“Yeah. Not looking forward to the area around the empire, to be honest,” Taze noted. “Snow blindness sucks as is. With these eyes? It’s gonna be unbearable.”
“We’ll manage. Or at the very least, we’ll have to manage.”
“Yeah.” Grif nodded. “What are you working on?”
“Weapons. For our new forms in particular.” He gestured to one of the blueprints off to the side of the table.
“That's … probably a good idea.” He nodded. “I don’t think we’re being told everything.”
“We aren’t. We never are told everything.” He sighed. “We just have to make do with what we do know.”
“Forewarned is forearmed, right?”
“I just hope we’ll be able to manage combat in these forms. Well, it shouldn’t be too difficult for you. Though you’ll still have a hurdle to adjust for in comparison to myself, where I’m working with hooves.”
“That's a fair point.” Grif nodded. “But it’s gotta be doable, right?”
“Of course. It’s just a matter of changing our own minds to manage it.”
“That's true, I suppose.” Grif yawned. “And it could always be worse. Mind if I keep you company?”
“Not like we have anything else we could be doing.” He chuckled briefly in response, then returned to his work.
The following morning led to a modicum of adjustment and success for Grif. While his talons had dug into and marred much furniture and carpet, he had learned some of the strength behind those dangerous implements and how best to grasp objects that would otherwise be destroyed. Hammer Strike had mastered the use of his hooves to shift his quill and avoid spreading ink over his fur and the page. Eight different blueprints laid off to the side. Some were intricately drawn with hints at minute aspects to utilize while others were only the barest sketches to outline a potential project.
At last, a heavy knocking at their door pulled them from the work. As the door opened, the sight of beds and bedding had all disappeared. Instead, a number of tables stood heaped high with steaming goods while a Pony in a chef’s hat served pancakes, waffles, crepes, and a number of sugary breakfast confections.
“We were wondering if the two of you wanted to join us,” Pensword called over the clattering of the tracks, motioning toward the Pony and the cloches on his handcart that had yet to be opened.
“Sure,” Hammer Strike replied as he neatly organized his blueprints.
Grif shrugged and headed for the cart in question.
“As one who has cooked for ambassadors from Gryphonia, the princesses have requested that I also prepare a meal more suitable for your palate, sir,” the chef said. Without further ado, he raised the unopened dishes and threw them like frisbees to land on an open table. Then, with equal skill, he removed each lid in a dramatic flourish to reveal a wide variety of eggs smothered in cheese, bacon, venison, Pâté, and other additions. “Of course, the other items on my cart are also yours if you prefer.”
“Oh, wow, this all looks amazing,” Grif commented while taking a seat. “I’ll happily try a bit of everything.”
The chef laughed. “Of course, sir.”
Pensword trotted to the table and hopped into the open seat of their makeshift booth. “Mind if I join you?”
“Be my guest,” Grif said.
As the passengers dined on the exquisite offerings from the chef, Pensword gazed out the window at the weather outside. White flecks darted in fat clumps that flew like daggers in the wind. The overcast sky blocked the sun, making the winter that they now plunged through perceivable as well as tangible.
“You know,” Pensword mused as he gazed over the white beyond, “whiteouts are probably a lot more common in the north. So are avalanches and snow drifts. I know the princesses said a curse was the cause for the city disappearing, but what if it was just … nature doing its work? Or nature being given a nudge to make it possible until Sombra came back? You know, sort of like how a mummy gets preserved in a high mountain?”
“A, it’s not cold enough,” Grif said. “B, that's not how cryogenics work.”
Pensword frowned and stroked his chin thoughtfully with a hoof. “Alone, perhaps. But like I said, if they combined it with magic, it might be possible. The princesses said he cast a curse. They never said what form or nature the curse took for the banishment.”
“Pretty sure nature wasn’t the vehicle,” Grif said.
“I guess we’ll find out either way when we get to the city.” Pensword’s nose twitched as the scent of the lucious meats wafted into his nose. “Um, … do you think I could maybe have a little of that paste?”
One could almost hear the record scratching as the other Ponies stared at Pensword.
The train hissed and creaked as it ground against the rails and finally came to a complete stop before an aged platform. The world seemed shrouded in a perpetual twilight as great storm clouds hovered overhead to blot out the sun while cold winds blew with biting flakes of snow. It wasn’t quite a whiteout, but it was difficult enough to make the space eerie and mournful.
“Wow, Pensword commented as he gazed over the terrain. “I’m starting to wonder if we might get lost, too, if we have to go out into a snowstorm like that.”
“Snowstorm?” Grif looked at him. “You call this a storm?” He chuckled to himself as he clipped on his simple traveling cloak. “This is but a wee flurry, lad.”
Rarity gloated as she stepped from the car, followed by a very overburdened Spike. “Hah! And you all made fun of me for packing so many scarves.”
Unfortunately for Spike, as he vied to gain Rarity’s approval, he lost his footing on a slippery patch of snow, and the luggage came tumbling down, releasing the scarves to fly in the wind and leaving him to scramble after them in an effort to prevent them getting lost in the storm.
Just as it seemed the Dragon was going to fail in his self-appointed task, a magical aura wrapped around the wayward accessories and pulled them back into range. Spike snagged them and beamed triumphantly. “Thanks!”
A purple Unicorn mare with a striking blond mane smiled kindly at him. “My pleasure.” She wore the familiar uniform of a postal worker, and a mail satchel was tied to one side of her body. She fished out a trio of letters embossed with a glossy purple tower on the envelopes and levitated them in her magic. She offered them to Hammer Strike, Grif, and Pensword one after the other. “Um, special delivery,” she said, even as she avoided making eye contact with the other mares.
Grif took his with a lifted eyebrow.
“Um, … we didn’t introduce ourselves,” Pensword pointed out. “How do you know we’re the intended recipients?”
“My clients were very specific,” the mare said. “I’ve also been asked to give you a message. If you must flee, go by way of the southeast city gate.”
Pensword blinked in disbelief and utter incomprehension. “... What?”
Just then, a familiar voice called, drawing the attention of the rest of the group away from the mail mare. “Twilight!”
By the time Grif, Pensword, and Hammer Strike looked back, the barest flash of the mare’s tail could be seen vanishing behind the worn-down ticket office.
Twilight squinted into the storm as a figure slowly emerged from the flurries garbed in a black scarf and wearing black goggles to protect his eyes. “Shining Armor?”
Shining removed the eyegear with his magic and pulled down his scarf to expose his face while his brilliant blue eyes shone with relief and happiness. “Twily! You made it!”
The two siblings ran to each other as Twilight leapt from the platform and then rose on her hind legs to embrace her brother with her forelegs while he did likewise. The embrace didn’t last long, however, and Shining was quick to change from pleasantries to the task at hand. Worry furrowed his brow.
“We’d better get moving,” the stallion said seriously. “There are things out here we really don’t want to run into after dark.”
“Wh-what kind of things?” Fluttershy quavered?
“Let’s just say the empire … isn’t the only thing that’s returned.”
“I’ll assume you’re referring to a specific threat that may have sent it here in the first place,” Hammer Strike spoke up.
“What is it? Where is it? How do we kill it?” Grif asked.
“In order, yes, you clearly already know what it is, somewhere out here in the frozen wastes, and I don’t know. I can tell you more as we go. The more time we waste here, the easier a target we become.”
The small party departed from the train station, even as the conductor looked into the storm and started the engine on reverse. With talk like that, there wasn’t much motivation to wait at the platform, particularly when there weren’t any other Ponies waiting to get on the train in the first place. After a period of silence in which Shining scanned their surroundings, he turned his head back to face the party. “If Celestia picked you three, I can only assume she’s already brought you up to date on the situation,” he called over his shoulder. “Something keeps trying to get into the city. We think it’s the Unicorn king who originally cursed the place, or at least what’s left of him.”
“But Princess Celestia said I was being sent here to find a way to protect the empire. If King Sombra can’t get in, then it must already be protected,” Twilight called back over the wind, even as her friends squinted against the arctic blast.
Just then, a cry not unlike that of a wounded beast or a dying breath through a horn carried on the wind, surrounding the group. Fluttershy quavered and barely kept herself from screaming as she spoke. “Th-that’s one of the things, isn’t it?”
Shining was swift to take command. “We have to get to the Crystal Empire. Now!”
No sooner had the words left his mouth when a great black mist materialized from the wastes to tower above the Ponies, Dragon, and Gryphon. Two great green eyes opened within, flaring a dark purple miasma from within as a beastly growl curdled from it. Shining raced to the frozen and staring Spike and quickly levitated him out from under his burden. Then he lowered Spike ahead of them and nudged him forward, leaving Rarity’s luggage behind.
“Go! Go!” Twilight shouted to her friends. As they continued at their pace, a light began to emerge from out of the veil of snow, followed by what appeared to be an amorphous blue globe.
Shining Armor smiled. “Almost there,” he encouraged. While the mares rushed ahead with Spike, Shining dropped behind and skidded to a stop to gaze the monster in the eyes.
“No you don’t.” Hammer Strike took hold of Shining firmly by the scarf to drag him along. “No heroics,” he said through clenched teeth. “You keep moving!”
Grif turned, drew his bow, notched an arrow, and fired it into the mist. “I’ll be right behind you! Get going!” he said. Then, stepping back, he took shot after shot.
“You heard the bird. Get a move on!” Next, it was Pensword shoving at Shining. With the two working together, the stallion had little chance to object, let alone resist as the remarkably strong Earth Pony and the extremely stubborn pegasus pushed and tugged the stallion to prevent him from gathering enough magic to cast his shield spell.
Grif, for his part, was firing into the Smoke in a rapid stream of arrows. The bolts seemed to do little more than slow it down as the holes made by the air pressure rapidly refilled. The light of the dome drew closer and closer. He could hear the hum of the magic over the howling of the wind and the growls of the ghostly shroud of mist. The air rang with the sound of the magic interacting, followed by flashes of light. The others had made it. Now Grif had to follow.
Grif Growled as he reached back once again, only to find the quiver empty. Sensing an opening, the entity surged at Grif before he could reach a throwing knife. It engulfed his left arm, which led to a searing moment of cold pain before, quite suddenly, the roaring blizzard shifted. Taze could feel the warmth of the barrier’s magic seeping into his fur from behind, causing it to stand on end when his tail passed through. The wind howled all the harder and blew against the barrier, then flowed off to blast at the smoke, dissipating it and sending it back long enough for Grif to pass through the barrier into the peaceful calm of green grass and blue skies.
Grif panted as he looked at the barrier for a few moments before he looked down to check the damage the cloud had wrought. Dark crystals jutted out of his left arm, coating it in a dark shell that seemed to move effortlessly with him.
“Are you all right, Grif?” Pensword asked as he approached his friend. Then he drew in a sharp breath at the sight of the black shapes that shone like obsidian and seemed almost to crackle with black energy.
“Fine,” Grif panted.
“That is not fine,” Pensword said firmly. “Hammer Strike, Twilight, Shining, get over here. We have a problem.”
Shining Armor stiffened, glanced Hammer Strike’s way, then looked more intently at Pensword. “What did you just call him?”
“Hammer Strike. But introductions can wait till later. Right now, we have other things of importance to focus on.” Hammer Strike spoke as he moved to look at the crystal on Grif’s arm.
Twilight gasped at the sight. “Did Sombra do this?” she asked.
Shining looked suspiciously at the Earth Pony, then shook his head and focused on the task at hand as his expression became grim. “It looks that way. I’ve seen signs of formations that look like they’re made from the same material on my patrols beyond the barrier, but never on anything living before.”
The other mares and Spike soon followed to gather round and get a look at Grif’s affliction.
Hammer Strike frowned as he glanced around the group. “Does anyone have some form of glasses I could borrow? Sunglasses would work just as well. There’s something I want to try.”
Shining Armor shook his head. “The closest thing I have is my snow blinders, but I don’t know if they’ll do that much good for you with how limited the windows on them are.”
“Here.” Grif used his good hand to open his pack and pulled out a pair of sunglasses to offer the Pony.
“That’ll do.” Hammer Strike nodded as he took them. After a moment, he took a breath and put them on, holding his hoof against the frames. “Let’s see how this will work on sunglasses.”
The air was silent, as if even the world were placing its watchful gaze on the Pony. A blue glow began to surround his hoof before spreading to the frame. Once the frame was encased in the energy, the sunglasses themselves began to give off a soft glow.
“Okay.” Hammer Strike removed his hoof from the sunglasses as he looked closer at Grif’s arm. “Let’s see what I can figure out.”
Shining Armor watched the process intently. “How did you do that?” he asked suspiciously.
“Special kind of magic,” he replied, his focus still on Grif’s arm.
“And what’s this spell supposed to do?”
“It’s meant to show me what this is,” Hammer Strike muttered as he thought over what he was seeing. “Corruption,” he muttered once more as he prodded one of the crystals, only for it to suddenly arc energy into his hoof. He backed off in surprise and gave his hoof a light shake. “It’s definitely some kind of dark magic solidified, but it’s not spreading any farther from your arm. So, for now, you should be fine until we can get rid of it. Keep me updated on how you feel, got it?”
“Will do.” Griff nodded. “So, Doc, will I ever play the piano again?”
“I don’t know. Could you before?” Hammer Strike gave a smirk. “Let’s get a move on. We’ve already delayed enough.” After a moment, the glow surrounding the shades vanished and he handed them back over to Grif.
“You’re sure you’re going to be okay?” Twilight asked out of concern as she looked at the Gryphon’s arm.
“I’ll survive,” Grif said. “It could have been much worse.”
Twilight nodded and swallowed heavily. “Let’s get to the throne room, then. The sooner we can figure this out, the better.”
It didn’t take long for the party to reach the center of the great city. Not a soul appeared in sight as they made their silent procession. As they approached the Crystal Palace itself, four great legs arched upward to support the base. From there, crystal formations jutted at the sky into many-faceted towers fashioned after the design of an archaic and sophisticated structure. Rarity squealed in delight as they reached the arch and drew nearer to the entrance, but while the others followed Shining, Grif couldn’t help but linger behind as his head swiveled in a very bird-like manner to focus on a statue that had been placed on a bed of grass near one of the tower legs. Three figures stared out at the street. One of them, a Gryphon, gazed fiercely at passersby, as if it were guarding some great secret or treasure. Intimidating though it was, it seemed … strangely familiar.
“Grif? Are you coming?” Pensword called back from one of the castle doors. “We don’t want to fall behind.”
“I’m … coming,” he said, not able to shake the feeling as he passed it.
The greeting at the castle was a welcome reunion to Princess Cadance as she approached Twilight and they performed the ceremony that was their secret handshake. The princess’ horn glowed brightly, and laughter carried through the room, easing the lines of tension and reducing the bags under Cadance’s eyes for a time before her horn flickered and she winced. The weariness came back with a vengeance as the barrier surrounding the city flickered to reveal the dark, cold, and unforgiving expanse beyond. It lasted only for a moment before the spell reestablished itself fully, but Cadance couldn’t help but sigh as she gave a weary smile to her favorite former foal.
“One of these days, we need to get together when the fate of Equestria isn’t hanging in the balance,” Cadance said.
Twilight frowned in concern. “Are you okay?”
Shining approached his wife and laid a supporting hoof on her back. “Cadance has been able to use her magic to spread love and light. That seems to be what’s protecting the empire against Sombra. But she hasn’t slept, barely eats. I want to help her, but my protection spell doesn’t seem to work. Sombra is able to counter it somehow. It’s all I can do to patrol and try to track his movements in case he attempts an attack.”
“It’s all right, Shining Armor. I’m fine.”
Shining brushed her face gently. “You’re not fine, Cadance. I know how strong you are, but I can’t let you lie about this.” He nuzzled her, then turned to face the gathering. “She can’t go on like this forever. And if her magic were to fade, well … you saw what’s out there waiting for that to happen.”
“That’s why we’re here,” Twilight said reassuringly.
“Why we’re all here,” Applejack agreed, as did the rest of the mares and the young Dragon.
Shining nodded. “Thank you. With Cadance putting all her strength into keeping her spell going, and me trying to keep an eye on signs of trouble in the arctic, we haven’t been able to gather much information from the Crystal Ponies.
“Crystal Ponies!” Rarity burst out with an excited laugh. “There are Crystal Ponies?” Then she realized just how much of a spectacle she was making of herself and quickly sought to regain her composure. “Um, … please, continue.”
“I believe that one of the citizens must know how we can protect the empire without having to rely on Cadance’s magic.”
“A logical deduction,” Matthew agreed. “Does anyone know where said Crystal Ponies are? The whole city seemed like a ghost town when we arrived.”
“Many of the citizens still keep close to their homes.” Shining shook his head. “They’re either afraid or too despondent to be their old selves again just yet. Hopefully, with time, that will change for the better.”
Twilight beamed as realization dawned. “A research paper!”
More than one denizen in the room gazed at the mare as though she’d grown a second head.
“That must be part of my test,” Twilight said. “To gather information from the Crystal Ponies and deliver it to you! This is gonna be great!” she exulted. “I love research papers!”
Rainbow dash smiled knowingly and nudged Pinkie Pie in the ribs. “Yeah. Who doesn’t?” she asked.
Grif raised his hand, prompting a smile and a shake of the head from Pensword as he struggled to hold back a snicker.
In true Pinkie fashion, the party mare darted from person to person raising possibilities and literally a person in Spike’s case.
“Don’t worry, Shining,” Twilight promised. “I am really good at this sort of thing.” She motioned to her friends. “Come on, girls!”
When the girls had finally left, Hammer Strike, Grif, and Pensword all looked to one another and nodded, then turned their attentions to the royal couple.
“While normally, the three of us would go after them, we have a separate assignment to look into,” Hammer Strike spoke. “In particular, if you have any information regarding the location of Star Swirl’s research lab, we would very much appreciate directions.”
Cadance blinked blearily as her head drooped. “Star Swirl? … Why would he have a lab here?”
“We had similar questions, but that’s what we were told.” He shrugged. After a moment he realized something. “Right, sorry, introductions are in order. To my right, is Grif. To my left, is Pensword. I am Hammer Strike. A pleasure to meet you.”
The mention of the name made Cadance straighten as though she had been struck by a thunderbolt as her eyes widened and she began to tremble. She hissed in pain as she brought a hoof to her head.
“Cadance?” Shining Armor held his wife in his forelegs. “Cadance, are you all right?” He tapped his horn to hers, sending a familiar current of magic between their tips. Then he nuzzled her gently. “It’s all right,” he soothed. “I’m here.”
“It happened again,” Cadance croaked as she shook her head. “Is this what you felt like at the wedding?”
Shining smiled gently. “Probably close enough while Chrysalis had her way with me.” Then he looked intently at the trio. “Those aren’t the kinds of names you throw around lightly here.” His horn sprang to life as he brought his magic to bear. “Who are you really?”
“If you’re planning on using that magic on us, you’d better be sure of it,” Hammer Strike spoke flatly. “Given the fact that Twilight and the others have stepped out, however, I will be kind enough to tell you. Celestia has deemed it important enough to give us a disguise while up here, and I suppose in general. Those names are ours, as was determined before we left. Our normal forms, and their original names, however, you would know as Taze, Matthew, and Shawn.” He gestured to each of them appropriately.
Shining blinked in surprise. “Really?”
“Did you want me to recount how you first met and interrogated me?” Pensword asked of the stallion. “Or how shocked you and the medical staff were when I told you about my heart condition? I can go on if need be.”
Shining narrowed his gaze. “And what language did you speak?”
Pensword grinned. “Draconic, of course. But we call it English in our tongue.”
Cadance smiled kindly at Hammer Strike. “I’m glad that Aunt Celestia decided to send more friends. If anyone can help to avert this disaster, it’s you three.”
“We have a lot of questions, Your Highness,” Matthew said.
Cadance yawned and forced herself to stretch. “I wish I could give you the answers, um … what should we call you during your stay?”
“The names we gave first will be for the best,” Hammer Strike replied.
Cadance nodded. “I understand. Hammer Strike, I wish I could help, but I’m in no fit state to give you the information you’re looking for, even if I did know where to look.” She shook her head. “If you want information on Star Swirl, I’m afraid you’ll have to follow Twilight’s example and ask the citizens. If anyone will know, it’s the Crystal Ponies.”
“That’s okay. In that case, we’d better get started. Hopefully, this threat will be dealt with quickly enough, given Twilight and her friends are dealing with it.”
“One can only hope,” Cadance agreed. “I’ll do everything I can to protect these Ponies, Hammer Strike.” Steel crept into her voice as her gaze hardened. “I won’t let him take them.”
“We won’t,” Shining said supportively as he leaned his head against her.
“Good. Keep that resolve.” Hammer Strike nodded before turning to the others. “Unless there is something else, we should get going.”
“Is there some significance to the statue near the square?” Grif asked.
Cadance shook her head. “I honestly don’t know. It was there when we arrived. I can only assume it was placed there before Sombra took over, and he never bothered with it.”
“It just gives me an eerie feeling about it,” Grif admitted.
“For now, it’s probably best to focus on your primary objective. After the empire is safe, we can do some research into the statue’s origins,” Shining promised, then smiled. “Twily loves that kind of thing.”
“In that case, we will take our leave,” Hammer Strike said as he gestured toward the door.
“Good luck, Hammer Strike,” Cadance said as the trio turned to leave. “And … come back safe.” Cadance wasn’t sure why she worded her farewell in that manner, but the sentiment was there, and that was what mattered most to the Alicorn. Then she leaned against her husband as he eased her back toward the throne again. “Shining, I think I’m going to need some coffee,” she murmured.
Shining nodded and nuzzled her gently. “I’ll see what we can find.”
True to the usual tropes, none of the townsfolk had any idea of how to help protect the empire. On top of this, their coats and expressions seemed muted and dull beyond any standard, as if something had drained the color from them.
“It’s almost like they’ve been Discorded, isn’t it?” Pensword asked of his friends as they congregated at the end of yet another branch of the snowflake that formed the city’s streets.
“I mean, they were exposed to huge amounts of dark magic,” Grif pointed out.
“True,” Pensword agreed. “And they seem to have had their memories sealed, or at the very least suppressed by trauma. At this rate, I’m not sure if it’ll be worthwhile to question any of the other residents. If they can’t remember past Sombra, it’s unlikely they’ll remember Star Swirl.”
“Likely enough,” Hammer Strike sighed. “We’ll have to wait until Twilight and her friends have concluded their side of things before we’ll be able to get any information. So until then, I suppose we’ll just be on lookout.”
“For what, exactly?” Pensword asked.
“Anything of note. We aren’t exactly in a completely safe location,” Hammer Strike said.
“Well, if the Ponies aren’t going to be any help, do you think they might have some sort of directory or something? I mean, if this is an empire, then they must have an archive like they do at Canterlot, right? Maybe we can find what we’re looking for there? At the very least, we might be able to find evidence of Star Swirl the Bearded in their history. From what we’ve seen, he left a pretty big hoofprint in Equestria’s history. That’s bound to leave traces,” Pensword noted.
“So, a library?” Grif said
“Probably a decent enough choice,” Hammer Strike shrugged. “I think I remember where it was.”
“And knowing Twilight, she’ll be all over it like a bee on a flower,” Pensword said. “That just leaves us with one question. Anybody know where it is?”
After more inquiries among the citizens that had begun to mill about the city, the trio eventually found their way to a glistening blue structure flanked on either side by two crystal Gryphons in a manner not unlike the lions that were placed traditionally outside some older libraries on Earth. An open book had been mounted or grown above the arch over the doors to proclaim the building’s purpose.
The interior of the structure put the Library of Congress to shame. Row upon row and shelf upon shelf glittered and shone with refracted light to illuminate the space. Multiple tiers and floors awaited the curious passerby and invited adventure into the unknown reaches. A confused-looking mare wearing large circular glasses gazed around the space in utter perplexity. Her mane was tied back in a bun held together by a golden band, and her tail was also tied in a similar style. A cord stretched behind her neck to keep the glasses by her at all times, and a parchment scroll being unfurled stood proudly against her flanks.
“Hello?” Pensword asked.
The mare looked at them and frowned. “Are you looking for history, too?” she asked in a gentle voice.
“Not really,” Grif commented. “It wouldn’t be history if I understand the events correctly.”
The mare cocked her head in confusion. “Then what are you looking for?”
“Given the nature of things, do you happen to have anything on more … recent history?” Hammer Strike spoke up. “Things on Star Swirl as well, if you happen to have any records.”
The mare frowned and shook her head. “I’m sorry, but I’m afraid I can’t help you any more than I tried to help those nice mares from earlier. I just … can’t seem to remember. I don’t even know whether I work here.”
“That’s okay. I’m sure they’ll fix things soon enough. I suppose in the meanwhile, we’ll just take a look around,” Hammer Strike said.
Pensword’s ears perked. “Anybody else hearing a constant chain of ‘no’s in the distance?”
“Yup. And I'm betting it involves Twilight.” Grif sighed
A trail of detritus and cast off books soon led them into stacks and piles. Some organized, but most absolutely a hodgepodge without a care for what lay between the covers. Applejack bucked Rainbow Dash along a shelf using a crystal ladder while Pinkie leapt to random shelves and sometimes thin air to retrieve books. Fluttershy checked books by reading their bindings without disturbing them. Spike held up books for Rarity to scan the titles with her keen eyes. And Twilight, well … Twilight was carrying a stream of books in her magic that would give Disney’s Merlin a run for his money. Only instead of packing away in a case, these books were simply cast aside haphazardly in an ever-increasing and messy pile that was far from the mare’s usual efficiency and reverence for the written word.
“Well, that’s different from expected,” Hammer Strike remarked with a frown as he looked over the mess.
“Twilight is … very focused at the moment,” Rarity noted. “And no wonder with the fate of the whole empire resting in her hooves.”
“No. No. No. No. No,” Twilight repeated again and again as book after book hovered past her.
“I … suppose we could lend a hoof while we look for our intel?” Pensword suggested. “Many hooves make light work.”
“Yes, though we have a lot of work ahead of us as is,” Grif noted.
Hammer Strike sighed. “Then I suppose we should get to it. Let’s see if we can’t find what we’re looking for before Twilight adds it to that pile of ignorance over there.”
The group continued to search as each sought around the various shelves for volumes that had yet to be claimed. Occasionally, Pensword would use his wings for a swift leap into the air, then drop back down to the floor again with a heavy clop. It wasn’t quite the same as PInkie Pie’s technique, but it was close enough, and he wasn’t willing to risk doing more.
“Have any of you found anything?” Hammer Strike asked his compatriots as they continued their search.
“A few surprisingly good novels, a recipe for crystal berry punch, and a collective of Yakyakistanni lore,” Grif said. “But nothing we need.”
Pensword sighed. “Nothing here either. A few treatises on some war, some books about magical theory, but not much—”
“Yes!” Twilight’s shout of exultation rang through the crystal and echoed as it reverberated off the surfaces, prompting her friends to come running as she lowered the book to the floor. “History of the Crystal Empire.” She smiled at her friends, then sighed. “I just hope it has the answers we need.” Her horn glowed, and she began to flip through the pages.
“Well, at least they found success,” Pensword said to his friends as the mares clustered together to review the book’s contents. “So what’s our next move? Do we keep looking ourselves or try some other means to reach our goal?”
“Given the lack of results, let’s look into that history book. Though it may not be exactly what we’re looking for, it might hold … something, at the very least.” Hammer Strike shrugged.
“Well, if we’re going to get a look at it, we’d better follow the gang. It looks like they’re booking it, no pun intended,” Pensword said. “They’re probably running to show Shining Armor and Cadance.”
“Well, let’s go,” Grif said over his shoulder as he began chasing after them.
“You know, after the world gets saved again, I wouldn’t mind if we could spend some time here just to look at what this place has to offer,” Pensword said as he followed his friend.
“It certainly does feel like it has some interesting things,” Hammer Strike agreed as he took up the rear.
“Once again, the old adage proves true,” Pensword noted quietly to his friends as they strode out of the throne room and followed Twilight. “Those who forget their history are doomed to repeat it.”
“Let's see what this is about then,” Grif said.
The trio followed as the purple mare opened a set of double doors that led into a council chamber of some kind. A round table hosted her other friends as they smiled supportively.
“... Is it just me or do I hear a guitar strumming?” Pensword asked of his friends.
And then, of all things, Twilight began to sing. With each voice speaking in turn, it was as if the world were suddenly shifting from one thing to the next in preparation for this crystal fair. Pensword was pulled into helping fit the armor for a jousting tournament while Grif tended to the lances. Hammer Strike suddenly found himself helping with a basket of crystal berries for harvesting. Later, Pensword found himself holding a crystal flugel horn to play in tandem with Pinkie Pie. The results were … interesting, to say the least, and … mercifully short.
As the song finally died down, the three friends were shocked to find that an entire fair had been set up over the grounds surrounding the castle with absolutely no sign of anyone else to have assisted with the work.
“How…? What…? Where…? What just happened?” Pensword spluttered. “And how?” he cried again.
“Well, duh, it’s magic, silly!” Pinkie pie giggled as she sprang around Pensword. “Wanna go for another duet? Huh? Huh? Huh?”
Pensword shuddered. “No, thank you. What we’d like to do is get a closer look at that book, now that Miss Sparkle is finished using it.”
“Okie dokie!” Pinkie grinned and saluted playfully, then bounced over to the snowflake sigil beneath the crystal palace. “Hey, Twilight, can Pensword, Grif, and Hammer Strike borrow your book? They say they need it for something super duper important!”
Twilight looked over a roughly hewn crystal plinth that held a heart at its center. It had been situated at the very center of the snowflake formation. Having been satisfied with her examination, she turned back to the pink party Pony and smiled. “Thanks, Pinkie. I’ll go talk with them.” Twilight frowned as she looked toward Pensword. “Is everything all right over here?”
“What was all of that?” Pensword hissed to the mare, gesturing at the fair.
Twilight cocked her head in confusion. “Preparation for a fair?”
“I mean the music, the singing, the spontaneous activities. By the time you were done with the song, the whole fair was just … there!”
“Well, yeah, most Ponies do it when something momentous or important is about to happen. It’s a natural magical phenomenon called heartsong. There are a lot of applications for it from a rallying cry to expressing distress and more. For example, Cadance and I used it to hasten our escape from the catacombs when Chrysalis was getting ready to take over Canterlot. The same application worked here. Is this really the first time you’ve seen heartsong at work?”
“Yes. And the first time someone’s explained it to me,” Pensword replied. “Are you telling me that all we have to do is start singing and we can turn a task into a montage?”
“Heartsong isn’t something you can just force to work, Matthew,” Twilight whispered to the stallion. Then she assumed a more scholarly tone and volume. “It happens when it happens. Some scholars theorize it was first utilized as a survival mechanism developed by Earth Ponies to help them attune their magic with the earth and increase the yields of their crops to satisfy the other tribes’ demands before the day of Equestria’s founding.”
“That doesn’t really pan out,” Grif noted. “Otherwise it would be purely an Earth Pony phenomenon.”
“Heartsong has a multitude of applications. Just because the technique first developed in one tribe doesn’t mean it can’t have been adopted by the other tribes later on. It exists on a base magical wavelength that any creature with a magical field can access.”
“And non ponies?” Grif asked
“In theory, yes. Though I haven’t seen any books that focus around any such studies. The fact that you were able to participate in it does indicate that it’s possible.”
“Makes sense. Your culture is fundamentally blind to such things,” Grif said
“We can discuss this further later,” Hammer Strike spoke up. “Twilight, could I have the book?”
“Oh, of course. I was just going to finish the last once-over to make sure everything was ready. I should be able to do that from memory.” She levitated the book to Hammer Strike. “I’d like it back as soon as possible, though.”
“Shouldn’t take us too long. We’re looking for something in particular.” Hammer Strike took hold of the book before handing it over to Grif.
Grif took the book and opened it. His eyes began scanning the pages, quickly moving through the words, almost too quickly as he took in the contents of each page before moving on. Small grunts or hrms escaped him as he took in the information given, then flicked the pages, being careful to avoid tearing through the paper.
“So it seems like this whole fair ties around an artifact,” Grif said. “Though a lot of information on it is missing.”
Twilight frowned. “The book just said that the crystal heart is meant to be the fair’s centerpiece. It didn’t mention anything about an artifact.”
“It mentions it being the center of the empire,” Grif said, pointing to the appropriate page. “Also, several footnotes on focusing the empire's love and positive energy during the festival.”
“Yes, which is exactly what we’re doing by recreating the fair,” Twilight said. “The abundance of love and happiness the fair generates will help the Ponies to remember who they are and muster the power to fight back against Sombra’s curse and Sombra himself.”
“Does the book have anything useful for our mission?” Pensword asked.
“No real mention of Star Swirl.” He shook his head. “I think we’re going to have to do this the old fashioned way.”
Pensword sighed. “I was afraid you were going to say that.” He shook his head morosely, then sighed again. “Might as well take a look at the mail before we get started.” He reached into his satchel and withdrew the envelope he’d received. His eyes widened as he reviewed the text. “Um, guys, … you should probably have a look at this.” He proffered the paper for them all to see. The message was written in perfect English.
In crumbling tower, meet your fate.
Through Swirling dark, your Star awaits.
Where love and light thrusts out the foe,
You’ll find your path within the snow.
When light will fail and dark proceeds,
Face the enemy with heroic deeds.
Death will not come to claim you yet.
Protection is the path that’s set.
Though bells may toll, they’re not for you.
Face down the shadow. See it through.
“Well, this complicates things.” Hammer Strike frowned.
“Our mysterious mailer knows something,” Pensword agreed. “That, or he or she is playing games.” He frowned. “But there aren’t many who know how to read, let alone write in English.”
“That’s the thing,” Hammer Strike spoke in English. “English isn’t a written language here.”
“Then who could have sent it?” Pensword returned.
“That’s the question, and the reason for why this complicates things.” Hammer Strike frowned. “The problem is, we don’t know where even the mare delivering this went, so we can’t exactly track her down. The only thing we do have is wherever this is telling us to go, and that certainly doesn’t feel like the safest option.”
“That's eerily cryptic.” Grif shook his head.
“And worse yet, it’s our only lead.” Hammer Strike sighed.
“The question is, should we follow it?” Pensword asked.
“It’s a risk, but I don’t think we’ll be able to make any additional progress on our own. As much as I don’t like it, I think it’s our only option at the moment besides waiting.”
“I guess we should try to find this tower, then.” Pensword frowned. “Anybody got any ideas how to look? I … don’t think I can fly with any confidence.”
“If it’s some kind of decaying tower, then it’s likely along the edge of the barrier, just far enough to have it be a background thought.” Hammer Strike shrugged as he took the lead.
“But where around the city? What if there’s more than one? I mean, what are the odds that there’s only one of them standing?” Pensword’s frown deepened. “I wish we had more to go on.”
“We just have to go and look for them.”
Pensword nodded. “Then let’s get cracking.”
The search took some time, since the trio had to follow the roads back toward the fair when they didn’t find the tower. Much to their delight, however, it did appear that Twilight’s plan was working. More of the Crystal Ponies were smiling and laughing together. The color had returned to their coats, and their mane styles were shifting as well.
“Good to see that they’re recovering,” Pensword noted with a kindly smile as they passed by a funnel cake stall on the way toward the next edge of the snowflake.
“Won’t be for long if they find out about that heart,” Grif said.
“Why do you think that, anyway?” Pensword asked curiously. “You mentioned something like that earlier, too, but I don’t get it.”
“Because if it’s the positive energy that makes this defense of theirs work, they’d have been able to fight Sombra off early on. Hell, he wouldn’t have gotten a foothold in the first place. Not to mention Cadance and Shining Armor would be able to use their love to power it.” He shook his head. “No, this stinks of something central being missing.”
“Shouldn’t we let the others know that, then?” Pensword asked.
Just then, a rainbow streaked by and snatched up one of Rarity’s flags from a pole before hastily making its way toward the crystal palace.
“Potentially.” Hammer Strike frowned in thought. “I suppose we can after looking into this tower deal.”
“Let’s hope lady luck is with us this time, then,” Pensword said as they continued down the path. “Think we can pick up the pace a little?”
The three finally found a promising structure. There wasn’t much left, but the barest outlines of a wall could still be seen on either edge of the snowflake path. Far in the distance, a structure jutted up from the earth. It wasn’t a tower exactly; more of a skeleton, really. Fragments of dull shards like pale obsidian mingled with pieces of stone block. A spiral of crystal-encrusted stairs was barely held together by what remained of the black shell.
Pensword nudged one of the shards cautiously when they approached the site. The blue aura of Cadance’s magic thrummed just a few feet away. “Well, we definitely found a ruined tower. It looks almost like the crystal grew inside it, then broke it apart,” he mused. “Some sort of magic spell, maybe?”
“Hard to tell.” Hammer Strike looked over the crystals. “To be honest, we’re so far out of our element that all of this is just more difficult than it needs to be. All we know is that it can’t be good.”
“Well, is there some sort of a hatch or secret passage or something we might be able to find in there?” Pensword asked. “I mean, the letter did say ‘through Swirling dark, your Star awaits.’ It was obviously a reference to Star Swirl, and stairs do spiral like a swirl.”
“Only way to tell.” He sighed. “Let’s get searching.”
The crystal crunched under the Ponies’ hooves like a layer of thin ice. A few good kicks and hoof blows managed to break up enough off the floor for the friends to shuck for a better view of what might lie beneath. It took some effort, but they finally cleared enough of the floor to make a proper search using Shawn’s experience in carpentry to test for any hidden doors the floor might have concealed.
A few minutes later, a familiar and dreadful trumpeting cry flooded through the barrier, causing a chill to spread over the three friends. The light of the barrier flickered like a lightbulb, revealing the dark and frigid expanse beyond before gaping holes were punched from the top down. The magic seemed almost to struggle to hold itself together. But without its source, it was doomed to fail, and ultimately fizzled out, leaving the storm and the darkness beyond it to swarm in like a deadly fog.
“Guys, we have a problem!” Pensword shouted.
“We noticed,” Hammer Strike called out in return. “This tower is not safe. We need to move before—”
Before any of them could so much as twitch, the crystal they had discarded pulsed black, green, and purple. A massive eruption of great jagged edges surged from the stairs to form a demented and twisted copy of what the tower must once have been in its prime. Meanwhile, the floor was coated in the substance, and it flowed up the trio’s legs to root them to the ground as a wicked chuckle emanated from the fog. Two glowing green eyes with red irises and black slitted pupils peered at the trio, and a sinuous voice soon followed.
“Ah, what have we here? New slaves to add to my army?” The laughter rebounded again. “A proper vanguard to welcome the return of their true ruler.” The crystal glowed and thrummed as it flowed higher up the trio’s legs for a time, but then stopped. The energy pulsed in time to the apparition’s glowing eyes. But those eyes soon scrunched in effort as a red horn manifested to join them. Despite this new addition, nothing more happened to the relatively immobilized group. With an almost animal snarl, the eyes and horn broke off and glared at them. “What is this?” it demanded.
“Two Ponies and a Gryphon,” Hammer Strike noted. “The more important question would be what happened to you, but I don’t think questions are really appropriate now.”
“Impudent little—!”
“Hey, Sombrero, can you speed this up? We’ve got stuff to do!” Grif said.
“And bigger fish to fry,” Pensword agreed.
“Arrogance!” Venom and outrage tinged the shade’s voice as the head manifested fully, attached to a serpentine neck that connected to the rest of the fog. Then his eyes narrowed as he drew closer to the trio. “Wait a moment.” He cocked his head. “I know you.” He wound his way around each of them. “You’re supposed to be dead.” He chortled. “But then again, so am I. I can’t say that I’m not surprised.” He sneered. “But as they say, vengeance is sweet. And it’s best served cold.”
“You want vengeance? There are hundreds, if not thousands of Ponies whose lives you ruined waiting for you to choke,” Pensword spat. “You failed before, and you’ll fail again.”
“Oh, I think not.” Sombra chuckled. “Not with you three out of the way.” His horn began to glow as the dark crystal in the tower surged with energy and the storm clouds hastened in their movements overhead. “I’m sure they’ll find you again eventually. Perhaps in the heart of a glacier.” He threw back his head and laughed as lightning crashed and baleful energies swirled above the tower. “Farewell, ingrates. May you die a slow and painful death!”
Bells began to toll as a ringing resonated from the dark crystal. The portal descended, and its force began to pull at the earth, sucking up the fragments of stone that remained unbound by the crystal’s advance. “Let the wastes swallow you whole!”
The ghostly laughter remained even after the head disappeared into the shadowy fog once again. The crystal shattered around the trio’s legs as the portal drew them toward it with the force of a tornado. Pensword flapped his wings desperately to no avail as the ringing of great bells mingled with the sound of tiny chimes and the bong of a grandfather clock. The one satisfaction the trio had before being consumed was the roar of pain that emanated from far in the distance as a wave of blue rose to cut off the shadows and push them back again.
Then all was lost in a flash of light.
The shadow had been thrust back. The evil would not succeed in claiming the Crystal Empire.
Yet.
Twilight looked with concern on the mare she had come to love as a sister long before it became official. Cadance’s brows were scrunched in effort and she struggled to rise to her hooves.
“I have to find the Crystal Heart,” Shining Armor insisted.
“No. You stay here with Cadance. She needs you, Shining Armor,” Twilight insisted, even as Cadance leaned into her loving husband’s embrace.
“Uh, guys, did anypony else see the swirling vortex of doom sucking up Ponies at the edge of town?” Rainbow Dash asked.
“The what?” Shining demanded.
“Yeah. While everyone was focused on Cadance, some weird lightshow went off over there.” She pointed toward one of the edges of the dome. “Then it just sort of … disappeared after Cadance did her thing.”
Shining scowled. “Sombra. What is he trying now?”
Cadance shuddered and drew closer to Shining. “It hurts, Shining.” Tears streaked down her cheeks. “It hurts so much. I want to protect them, but every time I try, it gets harder and harder to reach my magic. I’m not just tired. Something … something is wrong. It started when we arrived, but it’s been getting worse.” She hissed as another spasm of pain spiked through her head.
Shining stroked her mane gently and held her close. “It’s all right, Cadance. I’m here. We’re going to solve this.” His horn glowed as a beam of purple light shot lovingly to tinge around Cadance’s blue and seep into her head. The mare’s breathing eased as the wrinkles over her brow smoothed, and she sighed.
“Thank you, Shining.”
“Still, that’s a major problem. All the Ponies in the empire should be participating in the Crystal Fair,” Twilight pointed out. “They weren’t in a state to back out of it, even if they wanted to. And the rest of you girls were all helping with the proceedings, so that leaves….” Her eyes widened. “Oh, no. No, no, no, no, no!” She shook her head, then snapped herself out of her daze to look intently at her friend. “Rainbow Dash, I want you to fly as fast as you can around the city. Search every nook and cranny. See if you can find Hammer Strike, Pensword, and Grif. I hope I’m wrong, but if I’m not, I’m guessing they’re not going to be around the Empire.” She grit her teeth, took a deep breath, and wiped her eyes to remove the tears that were starting to build there. “Talk with the others while you’re at it and tell them to keep the rest of the Crystal Ponies calm. If they panic, then everything we’ve been working for will fail.”
Rainbow Dash saluted and nodded. “You’ve got it, Twilight. But what are you going to do?”
“The thing I should have done from the very beginning,” she said as she looked at the history book and shook her head in disgust before hardening into resolve. “I’m going to find the crystal heart before we lose anypony else.”
“Twily—”
Twilight shook her head. “Not now, Shining Armor. You’ve said so yourself. A guard needs to focus on the bigger picture. We’ll talk after the empire is safe.” Then she bolted off the balcony with all the speed she could muster.
Cadance stared with bleary eyes at the retreating mare. She reached out a hoof weakly. “Don’t go, … Cosey….” Then she fell against her husband again as he tended to her and slowly stroked her mane, whispering encouragement.
“Be safe, little sis,” Shining said, casting his wish to any force that would hear him.
Extended Holiday Chapter 20: What was Past is Present
Grif gasped as he awoke and opened his beak as wide as it would go to purge the carbon dioxide that had built inside his lungs, then take in that sweet life-giving oxygen. A few hacking coughs later, he managed to get his breathing under control and stood from a pile of snow to dislodge the frigid substance from his feathers and fur. With that task complete, he took a moment to view his surroundings. The first thing his eyes picked up was a shaded patch on the snow that wasn’t so blinding as the sunlight overhead. A quick reach for the object revealed the envelope he’d received from the train station with the same intricate design on its front and the seal intact.
“Okay, that is definitely strange,” Grif noted.
A veritable rainbow aurora cascaded through the sky overhead in ribbons of light spreading on for miles upon miles. His eyes followed those ribbons and traced them back into the distance, where a great shining structure glinted like sunlight off a snowbank.
A few moments later, another hunk of snow burst apart as a wadded ball of blue fur and sodden feathers struggled to dislodge the snow that had built up in its silvery-white mane. “I’m up, I’m up!” Pensword cried as his ears twitched and he shook himself like a dog. Then he braced himself to look over the terrain. “Where’s Sombra?” His eyes widened, and he felt over his body while curving his neck around for a proper look at himself. “And more importantly, where’s our gear?”
“I think we’re in trouble,” Grif said, looking at the structure.
Pensword peered around them. “Do you see any sign of Hammer Strike?”
“Shawn?” Grif Called
Pensword frowned as he looked over the terrain until he finally spotted a depression where a tan muzzle and the hint of blue and gold around a hoof poked out of the drift. Water ran down the leg, and the snowmelt had begun to pool around the equine’s muzzle. In a matter of moments, Pensword was bounding and hopping like a bird over the snow with intermittent flaps of his wings before finally landing next to the mass and starting to dig. “He’s over here!”
Grif followed Pensword and helped to dig Hammer Strike out. Pensword propped the stallion’s head up and watched the steady stream of mist that emanated from his nostrils and mouth.
“Well, at least he’s breathing.” Pensword frowned as he felt over the Pony’s forehead. “He feels warm, though. A little too warm, I think. Could he be sick?”
Grif shrugged. “Help me get him on my back.”
It took some effort to coordinate properly, but eventually, Pensword was able to maneuver Hammer Strike to drape over Grif’s back after Grif lowered all fours to give the Pony an easier time with his work. Then Grif rose and nodded toward Pensword.
“I’m going to take a wild guess that we’re heading toward the light?” Pensword asked.
“Where there’s life, there’s hope,” Grif agreed.
“Then I guess we should get moving. It’s going to take us an hour at least to reach it, by my reckoning. Then again, your eyes are better than mine. How long do you think it’ll take?”
“That seems about right.” Grif nodded. “Take it a step at a time.” And with that Grif headed for the light and whatever lay beneath it.
In due course, a familiar structure rose into prominence, only this time the ribbons of light flowed brightly from its top while the bustling sound of mulling crowds mingled with music and the clarion call of a majestic set of horns. Cheers soon followed as the general atmosphere of excitement rumbled from the walls beyond while the trio finally managed to reach a familiar gate with three hovering crystals between its two sides. The snowflake in the street pulsed with energy, and the road was lined with guards at intermittent checkpoints along a clear path leading from the city to what could only be assumed as a caravan route.
“Grif, I’m pretty sure this isn’t the empire we know,” Pensword noted nervously.
“We still need help,” Grif said. Then sighed and shook his head. “But you do have a point. Okay, here’s the story we’re going to use, okay? We were out nearby, and we got attacked by feral Changelings.”
“Are they even a thing this far north?”
“Do you have a better idea?”
Pensword sighed. “No, I guess not. But shouldn’t we look like we’ve been in a fight at least?”
Grif pointed to the passed-out Earth Pony on his back.
“I meant the usual signs of a struggle with Changelings, Grif. The ichor, maybe a few scratches, that sort of thing?”
“We’ll have to make it work.”
Pensword sighed. “I suppose so. Do you want to do the talking or should I?”
“You probably should,” Grif said. “We don’t know the situation with Gryphons.”
Pensword sighed and nodded. “I’ll do my best.” With that said, the two made their way silently to the gate. Unlike the empire they had known before, this one was dominated by a massive crystal wall that rose on either side of the gate to encircle the city. The purple crystal glowed with an inner light while the guards stared intently at the approaching party. Pensword forced himself to take on a more rigid appearance as he approached the guards. “My name is Pensword. We’ve traveled a long way, and our leader, Hammer Strike, is in need of medical assistance. Would you kindly direct us to your closest infirmary?”
One member of the guard squinted as he looked Pensword over before stepping forward. “Commander Pensword, and Lord Hammer Strike? You’ll have to forgive us if we doubt that. Last we heard, you had left the kingdom alongside several others after the war was finished.”
“Do we look like we’re in the kingdom of Equestria anymore, soldier?”
“No, but—”
“My lord needs medical attention. We were attacked en route to the empire. If you wish to question us, you can do so after we have ensured his safety. Escort us if you must, but if any further harm comes to him as a result of delay, it will be on your head.”
The guard grit his teeth briefly before turning towards one of the others. “Check them over. If they’re who they say they are, get them inside.”
“That would be highly appreciated,” Grif commented.
“Hold still,” a Unicorn demanded as his horn glowed brightly. His crystalline coat glittered as he cast his spell over each of the trio in turn. He shook his head. “They’re not Changelings, Sir.”
“Coloration and marks all correct?” he questioned. “Apart from the Gryphon, who I would assume is Grif Grafson?”
“Correct,” Grif said.
“If you need to examine our marks, go ahead. We have nothing to hide. But do it quickly. As I said, my lord needs attention. The sooner, the better.”
A close examination left Pensword feeling more than a little exposed as the soldiers each scrutinized his flanks. Fur or not, it still felt strange to be looked over like a prize horse. Still, for the sake of his friend, he bore up under the scrutiny and maintained the mask as the Ponies finally shifted to grif’s back.
“If I so much as see an unnecessary twitch from you, you'll be dead before anyone here realizes it. Is that understood?” Grif asked ominously.
The guard gulped as he approached the stallion.
“Easy there, my friend,” Pensword said as he strode closer to the Gryphon. “The empire and its citizens are our allies. We don’t want to cause a diplomatic incident.”
“If they behave themselves, there will be no incident,” Grif said. “It was just a friendly warning.”
“Th-they’re good,” the examining guard cracked, then cleared his throat to reiterate. “They’re good to go, Sir.”
The guard nodded and gave a small bow to the three. “Forgive us for the rude welcome. The war is still fresh in our people’s minds. Welcome to the Crystal Empire.”
“Could you by chance suggest an inn? Preferably one that would accept my lord’s credit? Seeing as we are unfortunately light on bits.”
“The inn near the castle will accept the three of you. Given who you are, I doubt you’ll be charged for your stay.” The guard looked to one of his subordinates. “Private Quartz, lead them to the Queen’s Tavern. Notify the Palace Guard about their arrival, and their need of a medic as well. I’m sure Queen Blood Diamond would like an audience once everyone is well.”
“Merci.” Grif gave a nod and moved to follow the guard. Pensword followed closely at his side to keep Hammer Strike in place on the Gryphon’s back.
Hammer Strike gave a faint groan as he placed a hoof on his head. The rustling of sheets sounded loudly in his ears as the material dragged against his fur. “Ex Divinia etiam,” he muttered. “What hit me?”
“Time portal, I think,” Grif said.
“Huh?” Hammer Strike blinked a few times as he looked to Grif, followed by scanning the room around them. “What?”
“Well, we seem to be in the Crystal Empire’s past with none of our gear,” Grif said.
The door creaked open to reveal a familiar Pegasus bearing a basket full of crystal berries. “I asked them if we could get some fruit to help speed your recovery when you wake up,” he said by way of explanation after noting the Earth Pony’s flat gaze. “Do you feel well enough to eat?”
“Yeah, I’m just … confused.” Hammer Strike frowned and waited for the Pony to leave before turning his attention to his friends. “How the hell did you guys find out we’re apparently in the past?”
“They mentioned a war that just ended. Plus, the Crystal Ponies are all actually bright and shiny crystal instead of what we dealt with before. That, and the whole empire is surrounded by a massive crystal wall complete with what appears to be a guard force not unlike what we saw back in Canterlot.” Pensword shrugged. “Also, they have a queen that’s going to want an audience with us after you finish recovering.” He hefted the basket onto the Pony’s bed. “Eat up.”
“Will do. Just give me a second to think.” Hammer Strike sighed as he took hold of one of the offered berries. “What’s our cover?”
“We were hunting feral Changelings north of Equestria and our squad got overrun. We managed to escape, but you exhausted yourself creating an opening.”
“And they just bought that?”
“Apparently, there is more to these three than we were let on,” Grif said, gesturing to themselves. “A hell of alot more.”
“What do you mean? They just said the forms we take would be what we technically would be here.”
Grif dropped a scroll in front of Hammer Strike with a coat of arms. “Borrowed this from a local scribe. This is the insignia of House Strike, one of equestria’s oldest, wealthiest, and most revered noble houses. Also, it only has one living member at this time.”
Hammer Strike looked bewildered as he looked at the sigil, a longsword inside a pair of curving feathered wings shaped like a crescent. “That’s my mark,” he said as he continued to study it.
“Yeah,” Grif nodded. “Apparently, Lord Hammer Strike’s house owns debts all over Equis. Half this hotel was financed with a loan from a bank in that name. They comped the room and the visit from a doctor and told us anything we need is complimentary. Yes, I tested that. They brought us three hundred bits to use as on-hand money because I asked if they had any liquid assets we could borrow. And they told me not to dare pay it back.”
“It’s much the same story with the berries,” Pensword agreed. “I hate to say it, but it looks like we’re nobility here. At least Hammer Strike is.”
“So, there was a version of ‘us’ technically already. Given the time travel, I assume we’re far enough that these heroes have already passed by our present.” Hammer Strike frowned. “That’s … a very strange concept to think about.”
“If we see David Tennant, I’m going to freak out,” Pensword said.
Hammer Strike blinked a few times. “Didn’t you meet The Doctor, Grif?”
“Spoilers.” Grif smirked.
“Good enough for an answer.” Hammer Strike sighed. “In any case, after we’re done with these berries, I suppose we’re due for an audience.”
“It is customary for nobility,” Pensword agreed. “And as a prominent figure in Equestria, the queen would want to make sure of your wellbeing for the sake of keeping good relations with the princesses, if nothing else.”
“Then, let’s get to it.”
“You’re sure you’re well enough to go to the palace?” Pensword asked.
“The worst part of it is that I just feel slightly drained. Apart from that, I’m fine.”
Pensword nodded. “Then I’ll ask for someone to notify the queen.”
The Crystal Palace throne room was much the same as they had left it in the future, with one exception. It was now vastly more populated by all manner of Ponies from crystal guards to crystal servants to crystal courtiers and petitioners. The guards that lined the hall emanated an aura of menace and training that the guard of their present day seemed to lack in Equestria. These Ponies were taller, more muscular, and each bore a lance that could just as easily skewer a person as it would welcome them in a ceremony. Tapestries, banners, and shields adorned the walls depicting frightening beasts and great battles while ancient weapons sat patiently as a reminder of the power of rulers and warriors past.
Unlike the throne room at Canterlot, however, there was also an aspect of levity and merriment that mingled with the gravity. Jesters and fools juggled and exchanged jokes while foals giggled and raced through the hall on either side of the great red carpet.
And there, smiling and overseeing this ordered chaos was a beatific mare with fur the color of red wine with an even darker red mane. Her body was adorned with a luxurious purple cloak trimmed with fur. A necklace draped around her neck, portraying a crystal heart rimmed in a white gold setting. A circlet of the same material rested on her head just above her horn. A single green emerald was set at the front to offset the silvery color of the metal.
One of the guards flipped his lance with expert skill and rapped the butt of it loudly against the floor, bringing silence to the hall as everyone in the room turned their attention toward the entrance.
“Presenting Lord Hammer Strike of House Strike, Hero of Equestria, Scourge of Gryphons, and Protector of the Realm; Grif Grafson, Bloodsworn Warrior and Steadfast Retainer to his master, the Left Hand to his Lord; and Commander Pensword of Their Highness’s Royal Military, Lord of Mountainside Falls, Defender of the Crowns.”
The queen lowered her head in acknowledgement of the trio. “Welcome to my court, all of you. It is not often one is able to stand in the presence of legends, let alone host them as guests. Please, approach.”
Hammer Strike took the lead. “We are thankful for your hospitality, especially given we did not anticipate our arrival here.”
“Your arrival is nonetheless welcome. I am told you were seeking out the hives of rogue Changelings. It would appear that your reputation for service to others is well earned. While we are willing, and even happy, to trade love with the hives surrounding our home, there are those who do not respect the agreements that have been made with the queens to maintain those ties. I trust your injuries were not too severe?”
“Not at all. It was more a case of exhaustion from overexertion than anything,” he replied dismissively.
“Though it would seem someone took advantage of that exertion, if reports are to be believed. Or did circumstances force your retainers to leave their weapons behind for your sake?”
“With all due respect,” Grif commented, “a Gryphon is never truly disarmed.”
“Be that as it may, it is unusual, to say the least, for one to travel across our realm without the proper equipment. Lesser Ponies would have succumbed to the cold before reaching our city. You doubtless would prefer to have some manner of weapon about your person, if nothing else. If it is your wish, you may use our smithy for that purpose. I would offer you the use of our smiths, but I am only too aware of the pride you take in your work, Lord Hammer Strike.”
“I would appreciate that.” Hammer Strike nodded.
“Is there anything further you will require during your stay?” she asked carefully. “I assure you if it is within our power, we will be happy to grant it to you.”
Hammer Strike shook his head. “I don’t believe so. Access to the forges here will be enough to deal with our lack of equipment.”
She nodded. “I’ll have materials provided to you. The best we can spare.” She looked around curiously. “Where is Ambrosia?”
One of the guards cleared his throat. “Hunting after the foals, Your Majesty. You did order him to keep an eye on them and keep them out of trouble.”
She rolled her eyes. “Of course. Have him brought here immediately.”
The guard bowed. “Yes, Your Majesty.” And then he departed.
“Our royal cousin Ambrosia shall see to your needs and guide you to wherever you wish to go. And assuming you are amenable, I hope you three will join us at dinner tonight for a feast to celebrate your many feats on behalf of our empire and Equestria against the Gryphons and their Emperor.”
Hammer Strike bowed his head. “It would be rude of me not to accept, though you need not put on something so extravagant on our account.”
Grif bowed his head in agreement.
“Nonsense.” Queen Blood Diamond smiled. “It is a privilege to have you here.”
Hammer Strike gave a small smile. “Nevertheless, we appreciate everything. Until then, Your Majesty.”
The grand feasting hall was full to the brim with merriment and cheerful chatter as the nobles of the court all joined at the table. Rather than the dreadful sense of formality that generally hangs over such gatherings, there was instead the feeling of family as various Ponies, primarily Unicorns, played and joked with one another. Some squirted water from the bowls typically used to clean their hooves while others whispered playfully into others’ ears. Even the staff smiled indulgently as they waited by the tables to clear away the trays when it was time to present the proper courses. True to any royal feast, Hammer Strike sat as the guest of honor on the opposite head of the table, flanked on either side by Pensword and Grif.
All three companions were relieved that the formality had been kept to a minimum. However, they couldn’t help but let their eyes fall to the one figure who stood out most, not only for the lack of a crystal coat, but for the prominent beard and eccentric bells that jangled from his cloak. Star Swirl the Bearded sat before them in the flesh, just a few seats away from the queen and her consorts.
“Star Swirl, you are, of course, ever aware of these three, are you not?” Blood Diamond asked.
The elderly stallion started briefly in his chair, then nodded deferentially to the queen. “One does one’s best to maintain ties to the land of his birth, Your Majesty. If even half of what the tales say are true, then they are a force to be reckoned with, indeed.”
“We try our best.” Grif smirked as he ate.
A few of the diners looked uneasily at the Gryphon, but kept their peace.
“Though we’ve certainly had our fair share of close calls, wouldn’t you say, Grif?” Pensword asked.
“Yup. But that’s what makes it worthwhile.” Grif smirked. “Isn’t that right, my lord?”
“Each encounter gives room for growth.” Hammer Strike nodded.
A wry smile twisted Star Swirl’s beard. His eyes twinkled, but not with suppressed mirth. “Indeed. Though some of that growth does regrettably come at a price. And sometimes a painful one.” He rose to his hooves and raised his glass. “If I may ask for your indulgence, Your Majesty, I wish to propose a toast.”
“Of course, Star Swirl. Let's hear what you have to say.” Blood Diamond gave a gracious nod.
“To Hammer Strike, the princesses, and their many allies, for all they have done to preserve Equestria and her friends against a threat that would seek to consume the world if left unchecked. And most importantly of all, to the many mares and stallions who gave their lives to ensure that we may continue to live in peace and thrive. You have helped Equestria to grow more than you know, Hammer Strike. And I believe that there are yet many more great things that you will do for your country before the end. May you be blessed with the wisdom and the judgment of a ruler and a scholar toward that end. And may your friends be by your side to bring that future to fruition from past, present, and future for all.”
Hammer Strike blinked in surprise at the stallion. “That is … quite the wish, particularly coming from you, Star Swirl. I suppose all that is left to do is to accept those well wishes and hope that we might indeed be able to fulfill them for Equestria’s future.”
“Then to Lord Hammer Strike, the princesses, and to Equestria’s future. May it be bright as our glorious empire!” Blood Diamond nodded, adding her wishes to the toast before taking a drink.
“Hear hear!” the table erupted as the Ponies each drank from their glasses.
“Let the feast begin!” Blood Diamond called to her servants, who immediately moved into action.
The palace staff moved with the speed of Pegasi and the efficiency of Unicorns. Three tinier forms moved a little more slowly as they carried the tray meant for Hammer Strike. A small pink Pegasus balanced it on her head while a deep blue colt’s horn worked to keep the tray from falling off. The smallest “servant” was a cute little yellow Unicorn whose magic intertwined with the blue colt’s to keep the tray level until the food could be properly presented to the visiting lord.
A stallion with charcoal fur and a black mane stiffened at the sight of the foals. His green eyes flashed with growing indignation as he drew the queen’s attention and subtly pointed toward the end of the table where the trio sat, gesturing with his horn.
The taller pink mare bowed as the two younger foals levitated Hammer Strike’s food in place. “We hope you enjoy the food, Lord Strike,” she said.
The other two followed the pink one’s lead and uttered in semi-chorus, “Thank you for coming.”
“I’m sure I will. And thank you three.” Hammer Strike gave a gentle smile.
The pink mare squeed and grinned, shaking in place while The other two looked on with eager expressions. Finally, the blue one couldn’t hold his tongue anymore.
“Did you really take on a whole army by yourself?” he asked.
“Did you really die and come back to life?” the yellow one pushed.
Not to be outdone by the other two, the pink one finally lost her cool and joined in. “Can Thestrals really enter Ponies’ dreams?”
Hammer Strike blinked a few times as he looked to the children before him. “Uh, well … technically yes, technically yes once again, and I suppose it depends on the third.”
“Children, where are your manners?” Blood Diamond chided the foals with an indulgent smile. “You didn’t even introduce yourselves.”
All three of the children stiffened as the tray the eldest was carrying clattered to the floor.
“Somebody got busted,” Pensword whispered.
The Pegasus mare grimaced and nodded in embarrassed acknowledgement to the queen. “Yes, Mother.” Then she bowed to the trio and looked regretfully at them with soulful eyes. “Sorry for lying to you. We just wanted to meet you in person, and Mother won’t let us sit with the adults yet. I’m Princess Mi Amore Cadenza, and these are my brother and sister, Prince Bellacosa and Princess Alto. You can call me Cady or Cadance for short.”
Hammer Strike gave a gentle smile. “It’s a pleasure to meet you three.”
Pensword stared with wide eyes at the filly, then looked between Grif and Hammer Strike. A subtle nod from the pair was all he needed before he reined himself back in. “If I may be so bold, Your Majesty, your daughter carries her mother’s smile and a similar warmth. And I appreciate how she puts herself on the line for her siblings by drawing attention to herself first and foremost. Those are the budding traits of a natural leader. And while my input is meaningless, I believe her conduct does you and her instructors credit.” He allowed himself a smile. “Even if she is a little impatient.”
“Patience comes with time,” Grif said, taking a drink. “As does wisdom.”
The stallion at the queen’s side cleared his throat. “With your permission, Your Majesty, I’ll escort the children to their rooms. I believe it is far past their normal bedtimes.” He fixed a chilling gaze in the direction of the servants. “Rest assured, I’ll launch an investigation into who assisted the foals and have them properly chastened for this impropriety. I’ll also have a word with their bodyguards.”
“Oh, let it slide, Ambrosia.” She rolled her eye’s.
“But, Your Majesty—”
“Just take them to their nannies.”
Ambrosia’s eye twitched briefly before he managed to regain control and forced his face into a stiff mask. “As Her Majesty commands.” He bowed, then strode over to the trio as his horn ignited and green magic surrounded his horn and the foals. “Come along, you three. I’m sure your caretakers will be very interested to hear about your latest adventure.”
Cadance remained in a dignified silence while Cosy and Alto squirmed and otherwise struggled against the magic that held them until they all left through a set of double doors, leaving the feasting hall in the silence that followed.
Grif’s gaze trailed after Ambrosia as he strained to keep a neutral expression on his face. For some reason, he felt a keen dislike for the stallion that seemed to reach deep into his soul and wrap around his heart like fire.
“When the meal is done, I’ll have you shown to the forges and any other facilities you may need,” Blood Diamond explained. “As I've stated, should you require anything, just ask the servants.”
Hammer Strike inclined his head. “You have our thanks, Your Majesty. And should time allow, I would enjoy the opportunity to know your children better. Perhaps when it isn’t past their bedtime.”
“The sentiment is much appreciated.” The queen smiled as she finished her plate and laid her fork down. “Forgive me. I’m afraid I have to take my leave. There are certain matters to attend to before I sleep. Please, enjoy the rest of the meal. I will send for you after a suitable time is found for a less formal introduction to the children.” And with that farewell, she rose to her hooves, nodded to her court, and departed flanked by a pair of Crystal Pony guards.
The suite they had been offered was the definition of luxury as a great crystal bedframe shone in a gentle soothing rainbow to help lull guests to sleep. The bedding was soft and well-kept. It was a shame that the intended occupant would hardly use it after so much effort was put into its preparation. Two more smaller beds had been carried in for Pensword and Grif to occupy, so that they could remain close to their lord. A sitting room and a fireplace laid in wait for the trio to use, complete with chairs and small side tables to hold their goods. It was no royal palace, but it was functional, and the opulence was mingled with functionality, just the way Hammer Strike liked it.
“Okay,” Pensword said as he settled into one of the chairs, “did anybody else notice how familiar a certain filly was tonight?”
“Yes.” Grif nodded. “I think that complicates the narrative noticeably.”
“Let’s be honest,” Hammer Strike sighed. “Everything complicates this narrative. Wrong era, we have incorrect forms or something along those lines, and we don’t even have an idea for how to get home.”
“That’s definitely a problem,” Pensword agreed and frowned. “Considering how things went to get us in this situation in the first place, maybe we can find some of our answers in your letters. You guys still have your envelopes, right?”
Grif pulled out his envelope from a dresser drawer while Hammer Strike reached into his coat to retrieve his. Grif slit his envelope open carefully with a talon and slid the single sheet of paper out. He unfolded it and looked at what was written, his eyes widening as he continued to scroll down the page.
Hammer Strike hummed questioningly at the Gryphon’s behavior while Pensword frowned.
“What is it, Grif?” the Pegasus asked.
The air became heavy with the weight of the words the Gryphon recited.
“In past, a bright land of the north lies ’neath the frozen skies.
While peace seems firm at hand, the dark lord shall arise.
A call to aid, a call to arms, a call you now must heed.
Turn not aside when godly fare is tainted by his greed.
To the traveling mare from lands beyond, make sure the heir is turned.
To the other two, a haven make. Your protection shall not be spurned.
When hope is low and times are dark, an ember you must blaze.
And from the low and fearful marks, an army you will raise.
With words bold and powerful, allay all of their fears.
But be warned, for by the end, it shall be you who sheds the tears.
And be prepared upon the moment to lay your binding oath.
For though this now won’t be the time it comes eventually with growth.
The dark lord’s reign will be undone, oathkeeper must take wing.
Then in the end, when times arise, become the knight who takes the king.”
“Ominous,” Pensword noted as he looked gravely toward his friend.
Hammer Strike frowned. “Considering the last one came true, I should probably get to work in the forge sooner, rather than later.”
“A war,” Grif said, still somewhat shocked. “I'm supposed to fight a war?”
“Not alone.” Pensword sighed. “But it will be war all the same.” He shook his head. “The Changeling invasion all over again, only worse. And I doubt it’s going to be as short.”
“Or as easy,” Grif said.
“It’s a war we won’t be able to win alone,” Pensword agreed. “What concerns me most, aside from the talk of tears, is this mysterious mare. If we don’t get Cadance to safety, she’ll never be our Cadance in the future. And without her, Equestria’s future could very well collapse. You know who she helps to raise.”
“We’ll figure something out, though it may take time to do so.” Hammer Strike’s frown deepened.
“We’ll need to take steps to prepare. We know Sombra uses dark magic. And we know that magic can’t stand up to the power generated by the crystal heart. That means whoever eventually becomes Sombra will make a move on the artifact and on the queen. Not necessarily in that order.” Pensword rubbed his chin.
“That part’s easy,” Grif said
“What did you have in mind?” Pensword asked.
“I meant who Sombra is,” Grif clarified
“And?”
“Even if it wasn’t written out for us, I’ve suspected the queen’s cousin since I first saw him. Something about him. He just has this … aura of awful.”
“And you can tell that just from one or two times seeing him? We haven’t even talked with him directly yet,” Pensword noted.
Grif shrugged. “I dunno. I just … don’t like him. And then this letter mentioned the ‘fare of the gods.’ In Greek mythology, the gods consumed Ambrosia.”
Pensword frowned. “You know, if this is meant to happen as a fixed point in time, like in Doctor Who, then we can’t try to prevent what’s going to come. All we can do is prepare for it and try to protect ourselves and as many people as we can.”
“Yeah.” Grif sighed. “The main question seems to be when. I feel like we’re going to be here a while.”
“If we want to stand a chance of keeping the children safe and training up a force to fight back, we’re going to need at least some experienced hands to help. And someone versed enough in magic to be able to help counter whatever spells Sombra might try.” He turned to Hammer Strike. “I hate to say it, but we may have to spill the beans to Star Swirl. If anyone might understand all of this, it’s him. And he’s probably one of the most powerful magic users in Equestrian history, not to mention the oldest.”
“Given some of his glances toward us, I have the feeling he knows something already, but yeah, I’ll have to schedule a meeting with him sometime soon.” Hammer Strike nodded.
“I guess I’ll try to build a relationship with the foals, then. We can’t protect them if we don’t have their trust.” Pensword stretched his wings. “And not to brag, but I was pretty good with kids back home. I’m sure I can manage.”
“Well then, I guess we should get to it, then.” Grif nodded. “I’m going to see if I can get some private time on the guards’ training grounds to practice.”
Hammer Strike nodded. “Then it’s agreed. Considering the hour, it’s unlikely that I’ll be able to find Star Swirl right away, but I’ll see what I can do.”
A heavy hoof knocked officiously on the other side of the door.
Hammer Strike frowned as he stood and moved to the door. “I don’t believe we were expecting someone….”
A crystal guard saluted to the Pony. “Lord Hammer Strike, I come bearing a message from Star Swirl the Bearded.” He passed a letter over to the stallion. “He requests an audience with you at your earliest convenience.”
Hammer Strike blinked a few times. “That, … we can do. We’ll set off shortly.”
The soldier nodded. “With your permission, I’ll escort you to his quarters myself.”
Star Swirl’s personal chambers were not the mad scientist’s lab one might have expected out of such an accomplished Pony. Instead, the chamber was laid out with reasonable accommodations for his needs. A comfortable bed, a book shelf with a modest collection of volumes ranging from history to basic magical theory and potion brewing, and what appeared to be a basic chemistry set.
“So, you’ve come,” Star Swirl said. There was no greeting, merely the forced analytical calm of a scientist performing an experiment. Or perhaps in this case, an investigator working on a case. He looked dismissively at the guard. “You may leave us.”
The crystal guard bowed. “Of course, Your Excellency.”
Hammer Strike raised a brow questioningly. “I have the feeling this is going to be a fun conversation.”
“Less conversation and more confirmation,” Star Swirl noted. “Let’s drop any pretenses, gentlemen, and get straight to the point. You haven’t fought in the Third Gryphon War, have you?”
Hammer Strike sighed. “No, we have not.”
“I appreciate your candor.” Star Swirl raised his horn and a flash of white light flowed over the space, passing by the trio and clinging to the walls and door. With the spell securely in place, he nodded. “That should allow us to speak freely as well as frankly. Now, tell me, how is it that you came to pose as three of the greatest heroes in Equestria’s recent history?”
“They were forms given to us by Celestia and Luna. It was, however, under the notion that we would take the forms we could have had, were we born in Equestria.” Hammer Strike sighed. “They didn’t say anything after we were given said forms, and we even decided upon the names ourselves, not knowing we were, as you put it, posing as great heroes.”
“You speak so casually of the princesses. They do love their subjects, but few are able to develop such a close relationship with them. As for forms, that implies that you are not what you appear to be. Why would you feel the need to change your form?”
“To put it simply, our forms are very … unique to the land we hail from, and would cause more attention than needed.”
“And how did you come to know the princesses?”
“To be honest, it was just luck.” Hammer Strike shrugged. “Of all the places we could have arrived, we … may have landed in her rose garden.”
“And you weren’t executed. Very fortunate, indeed.” There was a hint of a scoff there, but behind those hard eyes, a flicker of uncertainty lingered.
“We’re not lying,” Pensword said.
Uncertainty yielded to indignation. “But you aren’t telling the whole truth either, are you?” Star Swirl countered.
“Because the truth, in this case, leads to disbelief. If you truly want to know, then I will tell you as much,” Hammer Strike spoke up. “We three do not hail from Equis. We found ourselves shifted between the worlds and landed here. It is why we were given these forms, and why we came to the empire from our point of time, though a being known as Sombra certainly made this more difficult than needed,” he muttered the last part.
“I can only assume that since the princesses didn’t deign to correct you on your choice of names that you clearly didn’t ‘shift between worlds’ in this time.” He rolled his eyes. “I take it a certain individual by the name of The Doctor had something to do with this?”
“No. An individual of the empire, who we have a rough idea of who it may be, used dark magics, and I believe attempted to banish us beyond the time of the empire itself. The last thing he remarked was of us perhaps one day being found in a glacier. Fortunately, his plan appears to have failed, just not completely.”
Star Swirl frowned. “It is theoretically possible. Time magic is a dangerous subject to dabble into, but the dark arts are capable of branching into such places without the time and preparation our usual spells would require,” he mused. “You say he intended to place you beyond even the Crystal Empire’s founding. Did you notice anything that happened before you were pulled through this portal?”
“There were a few things that happened, but I’d need a more narrow field before I could give you anything concrete.” Hammer Strike shrugged. “Even then, I may not remember everything, though Pensword and Grif might remember more.”
Pensword furrowed his brow in thought. “I remember his laughter, and the barrier dropping. After that, … it’s tough to say. I thought I might have heard a scream, but I don’t know.” He shook his head. “Grif? Do you remember anything else? You’ve got that telescopic vision birds are supposed to have, right?”
“The shield that had been put up weakened, the sky darkened. It looked like there were bits of dark crystal, if I remember correctly,” Grif said.
“Dark crystal….” Star Swirl rubbed his chin in thought. “Crystals are a common focus used in magical rituals. The larger or more complex the crystal, the more capable it is of channeling and holding magic. Your enemy may have been drawing on these crystals to supplement their power. But if what you say is true, then depending on the number of years by which you were displaced, it would have taken a vast amount of stored energy, even with dark magic, a network nearly as intricate as the empire itself.”
”Considering the empire was displaced until recently in our present day, we were given a rough estimate of a thousand years,” Hammer Strike replied.
“One thousand years?” Star Swirl balked. His legs buckled, and he stumbled backward before regaining his footing. “That kind of power is not gained easily. Either your adversary struck a bargain that stretches far beyond the realm of deadly or the focus this Sombra crafted would have to be the opposite of the Crystal Empire itself, augmenting and amplifying dark emotions to feed into the magic of the designated recipient.”
Hammer Strike blinked a few times. “That … makes more sense, actually,” he muttered in thought. “Sombra had control of the empire. It would explain every issue encountered in trying to ‘save’ the empire.”
Star Swirl scowled. “I don’t approve of time travel, but one principle I learned from The Doctor’s teachings to my former pupil is the need to avoid altering the course of events in a fixed point in time, lest a paradox ensue and unravel the fabric of the universe. Normally, I would advise defeating this Sombra before he or she has the chance to succeed. But if they exist in your time, then I can only surmise that we must allow events to unfold and minimize the fallout as much as possible.”
“Indeed. Though, we did have some additional guidance as well, which leads me to believe someone else is messing with things on the outside as well,” Hammer Strike replied as he reached into his coat and pulled out his letter. “We were each given a letter with some guiding words on them.”
“Mine’s already been finished for what it had to say,” Pensword said. “It’s what got us positioned for our first encounter with Sombra.”
“And mine is more a series of vague instructions of what to do,” Grif said.
Hammer Strike proceeded to open his letter and blinked as he stared at the paper.
“Well? Out with it. What does it say?” Star Swirl demanded impatiently.
“Hold on. Give him a minute,” Grif growled.
“That’s … not pleasant,” Hammer Strike remarked slowly as he closed the message. “H-how do you even make a letter do this?”
“Do what?” Star Swirl asked as he gazed from the paper to the Pony, then to his two companions.
“It was just… one word. But the moment I read it, it felt like something just wormed its way into my mind.”
Pensword frowned. “Wormed? We’re not talking like some kind of parasite, are we?”
Grif looked back at the discarded envelope, then stared intently before moving to seize the object. When he pulled it open, a second slip of paper slid out easily into his grasp. Its message was in simple Equestrian, and the Gryphon chose to read it aloud. “He’ll be a moment. He’s just absorbed a lot of information, and psychic transfer can throw you off if you're not used to it.”
Pensword facehoofed. “And now we know Timelord shenanigans are involved.”
“Timey-wimey, wibbly-wobbly.” Grif smirked.
“Should we be looking for the Brigadier, then, too?” Pensword sighed and shook his head. “Talk about a headache and a half.”
“Brigadier?” Star Swirl looked confusedly at the Pegasus.
“A rank of military command associated with a unique nation from where we originally came.”
“I … see. And you expect someone of this rank to also be here? Possibly to assist you in the resistance that must be raised?”
Pensword shook his head. “It’s doubtful. If there is a counterpart for him here, we haven’t met him before.”
“It’s complicated,” Grif said. “That's the best way to put it.”
“You are referring to the existence of potential dimensional counterparts in worlds that are closely aligned to yours, correct?” Star Swirl asked academically.
Grif nodded. “In a sense, yes, though there are notable complications to it.”
“Two days,” Hammer Strike suddenly spoke up. “Two days after this conversation, everything will reach its tipping point.”
Star Swirl’s beard whipped over his shoulder with the speed at which he turned his head to stare at the stallion. “You’re certain?”
“It’s what I was … told?” He seemed uncertain how to explain it. “There’s a lot of information, but it was all tied to the fact that it was two days from our first meeting with you. This very conversation.”
“And the empire will fall?” Star Swirl pressed.
“Not entirely, but enough for it to be lost to time for at least a thousand years. Alongside two members of the royal family, Cadance needs to be away from the Crystal Empire when the end draws near.”
“And the queen? What is to be her fate? Will she be kept as a slave or will the usurper kill her?”
“Her death is what begins this chain of events.” Hammer Strike frowned.
“If we are to protect the children, we’ll need her permission to take them away at the time without arousing suspicion,” Star Swirl mused.
Pensword shook his head. “It’s doubtful that we can manage that. Even if we’re trusted allies, the queen wouldn’t entrust the children strictly to our care alone. They’ll have to at least have some guards or attendants with them when they meet with us.”
“That is not a bad thing in and of itself,” Star Swirl noted. “Indeed, they will be able to assist you with the protective measures that the empire has in place for such a situation. It was a plan implemented when war was declared officially against Gryphonia. In the event that an enemy force should manage to take control, our resources are to be locked or otherwise hidden or shut down and the children are to be flown to a safehouse with a direct connection to the empire’s allies to the south. It is known as the Scattered Wind Protocol, in part due to the nature of the deities our former enemies worship.”
“Won’t our enemy know about that, though?” Pensword asked.
“It’s possible,” Star Swirl admitted, “but even if he did, it’s unlikely he would be able to reach it before you can get a distress signal to the princesses. He will be too busy consolidating power here in the city and trying to round up any stragglers who could oppose him. With the combined efforts of Hammer Strike, Grif, and myself, we should be able to distract the usurper long enough to give you the chance to get away with the foals.”
“It would be better if we could get them away before this coup has the chance to start,” Pensword noted.
“Do that, and the usurper may not act. If this Sombra wishes to consolidate power, then he will want to completely destroy the main bloodline. He’ll wait until he has the chance to kill them all in one stroke. The queen, her remaining consort, and the foals,” Star Swirl pointed out.
“So we stick with the foals,” Grif said
“This is going to be quite complicated.” Hammer Strike sighed. “But, we’ll manage. We just need the right plan. That, and I need to equip us,” he added, looking at their lack of gear.
“Can you manage that alone in two days’ time?” Star Swirl asked.
“If I don’t take breaks or get interrupted often, … maybe.” Hammer Strike frowned. “Based off the difference in mass, so long as I can make equipment to deal with the vitals first and extra as afterwards.” He muttered in thought as he went through his own plans.
“You’re probably going to need our measurements, then,” Pensword said. “And then we’re going to have to figure out how to keep close to the foals.”
“I’ll take the proper steps to protect my research,” Star Swirl noted. “The usurper won’t ever be able to access it, even over my dead body. Not that I expect to die, mind you.”
“If there is nothing else to discuss at this moment, then we should get to planning. Star Swirl, I assume you’ll be dealing with your own preparations for a time, based on what you just said. As such, you will find myself likely in the forge for the next two days, should you wish to discuss things further for this,” Hammer Strike spoke up.
“I’ll make sure to keep things general for convenience’s sake. While the queen may have offered you the use of the forge, that doesn’t mean our enemy won’t have ears extended to hear us.”
“I’m going to the training grounds,” Grif said. “I need to brush up on my technique.”
Pensword sighed. “I guess that leaves me to regale the foals with stories and build trust.”
“As much as I don’t like the idea of it, we do look like heroes.” Hammer Strike sighed. “We’ll have to use that to our advantage in this situation.”
“I take no pleasure in lying about this, but it would appear we have little choice in the matter. I will continue to cover for the three of you. If you have any questions about your roles in the recent wars, you may ask me. I will provide what information I can. I’ve not set hoof in Equestria for a long time, but I know enough to help you play your parts if you are interested,” Star Swirl said.
“Set up a time after I’ve finished playing with the foals, and I’ll be there,” Pensword promised.
Grif stretched in a very feline manner, then nodded toward his friends. “Well, let’s get started.”
Critical Flaw was not the kind of Pony one would expect to make it in the military with such a name. Many would think it implied a weakness. He used this to his advantage in his service. Those who underestimated him soon found out the real purpose behind his name, and the special talent he had developed. It was not his own flaws that were to be feared, but rather how easily he could find those faults in others and exploit them to achieve his goals.
Such a frightful gift was not to be taken lightly, and the queen saw the potential for such talent immediately. The war had ended too soon for him to be of use to their allies, but now he had a second chance in service to Hammer Strike and his companions. Even if it was the mere delivery of a message, he was proud to be of service to the heroes who had sacrificed so much to protect their way of life.
The stallion strode up the stairs and knocked heavily on the suite doors, as per Hammer Strike’s instructions. He also made sure to brace himself. Also per Hammer Strike’s instructions.
It took a full minute and a half before something finally found the door. It opened a small crack to reveal an angry blue eye looking through it. “Yes?”
“Hammer Strike ordered me to bring you this.” The stallion pushed the envelope he carried through the crack and waited. “He also told me to wait until you finish reading it.”
“One moment.” Grif groaned as he closed the door and opened the locks before opening it fully. He looked at the stallion with tired eyes as he picked up the envelope. “You might as well come inside.”
The guard nodded and did as instructed. Pensword rubbed his eyes as he blinked blearily at the stallion.
“Hammer Strike?” Pensword asked through a yawn?
“Yes, Sir,” Critical Flaw returned respectfully. “Though I don’t know exactly what he wants.”
Pensword turned to the Gryphon. “Well, Grif? What does the letter say?”
“He wants us to come meet him immediately.” Grif yawned.
Pensword glimpsed out the window. The night sky was still dark overhead, lit with the ribbons of light that flowed from the castle. “Has he been working all night?”
“Certainly up to this point, Sir,” Critical Flaw said. “I’d say that isn’t healthy for a stallion, but given what you all faced in the war, I suppose this is likely usual for you.”
“Certainly for our lord,” Pensword agreed, then sighed. “Well, then, I suppose we should get going immediately. Will you guide us to the castle forges, soldier?”
Critical Flaw nodded. “Assuming your business here is concluded. If not, I can wait until you are ready to depart.”
“He knew what he was doing. He can wait until I have my coffee,” Grif grumbled as he took out a cup. “What about you?” He looked to the guard.
“Not while I’m on duty, thank you.”
“Suit yourself.” Grif shrugged as he went to making a cup of coffee and drinking it.
“Is he … always like this when he first wakes?” Critical Flaw asked of the Pegasus.
“You happened to catch him on one of the good wakings. Normally, he wouldn’t hesitate to punch you if you tried to wake him in person,” Pensword explained.
“Warrior’s instinct?”
“Something like that,” Pensword replied as he looked to his friend. “Never really took a liking to the stuff, myself.”
“Your lack of taste is not my issue,” Grif snarked.
Thirty minutes later, the trio were traveling through the corridors of the crystal palace en route to the forges. The ring of metal and the increased temperature radiating from the crystals made it only too clear how close they had come to their destination. The forges themselves were well-ventilated, the work tables neatly organized, and the tools held efficiently in their various cubbies and on their pegs to await retrieval. However, unlike the other forges in Equestria, where coal was the primary fuel for the flame, these were instead kept running through the use of crystals and crystal powders that the fires consumed greedily.
Hammer Strike hunched over a leatherworking table, tracing a blade over thick cured hide while stout needle and thread awaited his use. A long strap sat to his side while identical cutouts of leather awaited his touch.
“Lord Hammer Strike,” Critical Flaw called to the stallion. “I’ve brought your companions, as requested.”
“Good,” Hammer Strike replied, not taking his eyes off his work. “That’s all I need for the time being, but if you’re able, please station yourself outside the door, as I may have use for your talent.”
“My … talent, Sir?”
“Given your name and position, I have a feeling I know what your skill set is.”
“If … I can be of service, I’ll do what I can for you, Sir.”
“I’ll call upon you when the time comes.”
“As you wish, Lord Hammer Strike. Though I would ask your permission to speak with my commanding officer first.”
“Of course.” Hammer Strike finally looked away from his work. “Sorry, I get ahead of myself sometimes.”
Critical Flaw nodded. “I’ll return as soon as I am able.” And with that said, the soldier departed, leaving the three friends alone to their own devices.
“So what required you to wake us up this early?” Grif asked
“I’ve finished making your weapons,” Hammer Strike directed their attention to a nearby worktable. “Beyond that, I need to gather measurements to actually make your armor.”
“You need a hand with the measuring tape?” Pensword asked.
“I think I’ve got it covered. Thankfully, working with my hooves so long actually helped with fine control. First things first, your weapons.”
Grif looked over the table carefully. He reached out and grabbed the handles of two similar-looking swords. The handles were made of brass. They were thin with straight cross hilts. The blade in his right hand was broad, double-edged, and came to a vicious point. The off-handed blade was just as long and double-edged, but far thinner than the first. They both seemed to be made of a strange crystalline metal with the broad blade being a milky green and the thin blade a deep blue. “A new metal you were experimenting with?” Grif asked as he gave the blades some experimental swings to test their weight and symmetry.
“The Crystal Empire has quite the variety of materials to work with,” he explained. “That, I believe, was just crystalline steel, which should hold some better properties, given our environment.”
Pensword picked up a simple shortsword. “This was good enough for me before. It’ll serve me well enough now.” He chuckled. “It’s the closest thing I’ve got, since we don’t have a crossbow for me to use. Think we might be able to sneak onto the practice field to ‘break these weapons in?’”
“Actually, you should be clear to use them at any hour,” Hammer Strike replied.
“Good. I want to get used to this thing before anything else happens.”
Grif managed to find several stilettos as well and strapped them to his person. “These feel like a good secondary.”
“Anything on that table was made for you two. I’ve got my own off to the side already.” Hammer Strike gestured to the larger blade on another table. “Okay, If you’ve got everything you want, let me get your measurements and I’ll be able to get to work on your armor.”
With the measurements finished, the Pegasus and Gryphon grinned at one another.
“So, now that we’ve finished that, and we’re all awake, anybody up for breakfast?” Pensword asked.
“Yeah. Awake. Right,” Grif groaned sarcastically.
Hammer Strike took a moment to process what he had heard. “I’m sorry, it’s time for what?”
The feasting hall was once again filled with familiar faces as the royal family feasted on the delicacies the chefs had prepared. The room was alive with conversation as the queen, her consort, and the other royals all enjoyed the company of loved ones.
“Your Majesty, I couldn’t help but notice that Ambrosia appears to be missing today,” Star Swirl noted idly from his chair.
The queen smiled sweetly. “He’s gone off to perform an inspection for the barracks and check with the cooks to ensure they have what they need to keep them well fed. An army marches and fights on its stomach, after all.”
“Then am I correct in assuming he will also be visiting the crystal berry patches?”
The queen nodded. “He intends to depart after making his report to me. He wants to make sure everything is ready for the Crystal Fair.”
“Crystal Fair?” Grif asked.
Blood Diamond smiled. “My apologies, Grif. I forget that you’re not familiar with our people’s customs. It is a time of renewal in our kingdom and in all of Equestria. Our people channel the positive emotions within them to enhance the natural magics that flow strongly beneath the empire. These powers are then guided and channeled through the crystal heart and distributed throughout the empire and Equestria to strengthen and revitalize magic in both kingdoms. It also serves as a potent talisman capable of driving out or even obliterating most dark forms of magic or entities.”
“Fascinating,” Pensword noted. “Just how potent is this power?”
“How potent is love?” the queen returned. “In its most primal form, love, true love, is one of the strongest forces to exist in magic. It binds, seals, and holds together. It renders tyrants powerless and deposes doubt and despair. It can end a war or start one in the wrong hooves. Fortunately for our people, the crystal heart has never chosen an heir that would do such a thing. I often wonder if its creators made it so it never could. That way, the crystal heart’s power could never be used to destroy them.”
“Are you saying that the crystal heart is alive, then?” Pensword asked.
Blood Diamond shook her head. “Not alive, but I suppose you could claim that it’s sentient in a fashion.”
“If I may, Your Majesty,” Star Swirl began, “since we’ve brought up the topic of dark magic and beings, there is a security matter that I believe should be brought to your attention. Although faint, I’ve recently begun detecting traces of that very kind of magic around the palace.”
Blood Diamond looked sharply at the stallion. “You are certain of this, Star Swirl?”
“Your Majesty, I made hunting and detecting that particular kind of magic my life’s work in my younger years. It doesn’t appear to be within the crystal network, but whatever it is most certainly carries a corruptive influence. If it is not tended to in a timely fashion, it could lead to grave consequences for the empire as a whole.”
Blood Diamond’s demeanor changed immediately. With the flick of her horn, the windows in the room were completely filled in with crystal growths thick enough to subdue the chamber in twilight while the doors were swiftly barred and surrounded by her power. She looked over every Pony present in the chambers. “What we discuss here does not leave this room under any circumstances. Am I understood?” she demanded of the nobles. A general murmur of shocked and frightened assent filled the room. She then looked to her guests. “I trust that you three will also keep this revelation to yourselves?”
Pensword nodded. “You have my word, Your Majesty.”
“My lady, information is my specialty. I will take it to the grave.”
“Will do,” Hammer Strike replied as he looked up from the table.
The queen nodded. “These traces you’ve detected, Star Swirl. Is there a way to track them to the source?”
Star Swirl shook his head. “No, my lady. Whoever or whatever is responsible is too subtle thus far. It could be the result of an artifact, rather than an actual caster. However, even if it is an artifact, the fact it managed to breach security and pass through the halls of the castle undiscovered for this long is a grave security concern. And if its influence should grow strong enough before the ceremony is performed at the Crystal Fair, I fear for what the result may be.”
“Can you at the very least detect intention?”
“At its basest form, greed and lust. Those under its influence might manifest similar traits. A desire for more than they already have, and the willingness to employ any deed to obtain it. It could be something as minor as fighting and petty theft, or … at its worst, murder. If it’s the result of an artifact, then it can either lead to general chaos or it could sway those Ponies to be under the will of the owner. Or worse still, a slave to the artifact itself. If it’s a Unicorn harboring these emotions, then it can be even more dangerous. Artifacts must act through others to do their work for them, and they don’t always understand the behavior of sapient beings. A properly trained magic caster, however, won’t make those mistakes.”
“Then what would you suggest, Star Swirl? If this threat is as great as you say, then I am open to ideas.”
“With your permission, Your Majesty, and that of Lord Hammer Strike, I would like to ask for the assistance of Commander Pensword in my hunt. As all of Equis knows, he is part Thestral, and that particular tribe has a unique affinity for sensing and combating the dark.”
“What say you, Lord Hammer Strike, Commander Pensword? Will you aid us in ferreting out this threat?”
Hammer Strike tapped his chin in thought. “We’ve dealt with certain forms of manipulation before, though nothing so extensive as a practitioner of the dark arts. It seems a reasonable request. However, I would like to make one further suggestion to add to your preparations.”
“And that is?”
“Allow your foals to get to know us better. If a threat should come for the empire, we would be the most well equipped to handle any attacks that might come from without or within. And when dealing with any form of attack, it’s a safe bet that the royal family will be a prime target. Also, it’s something our invisible threat won’t find suspicious, since they’ve already expressed a desire to know us better.”
Pensword blinked in surprise for a moment before shaking his head and nodding. “Lord Hammer Strike’s advice is sound, Your Majesty. I would be honored to assist in both tasks, assuming you accept my lord’s suggestion.”
“Normally, I would prefer to delegate my children’s safety to their guards. But if you truly are willing to act in their stead should worse come to worst, I can think of no safer hooves or talons for them to be guarded by. Given your clearance levels in the Equestrian government, I take it you are already familiar with certain emergency protocols.”
Hammer Strike nodded. “We are.”
“And if the unthinkable should happen?”
“I will keep them safe, Your Majesty,” Pensword said grimly. “I won’t tolerate innocent blood being spilt.”
“Then I expect you three to meet me in my chambers at noon. I’ll make the other necessary arrangements. And Star Swirl, you are free to begin your hunt with Commander Pensword when the meal is finished.” She raised a staying wing. “However, I expect your inquiries to be kept discreet.”
“Of course, Your Majesty,” Star Swirl agreed.
Blood Diamond nodded, and with another flick of her horn, the room returned to its original state. “Then finish your meals, and let’s get to work.”
Subtlety would only draw further attention to the Gryphon as he strode through the halls, and he knew only too well that their enemy would want to keep an eye on him and the others after the scene that had taken place in the royal hall for breakfast. So, Grif relied on the old standby. He strode calmly and purposefully toward the sorcerer’s door and knocked as loudly as he could. “Hello?” he called.
There was no response.
“Hey! Are you in there?” Grif Banged hard on the door.
The door flung open angrily as a stormy Star Swirl glared, his horn ablaze. “Do you mind? I’m trying to—oh, it’s you. Did Hammer Strike send for me?”
“Not really. I need you to look at something for me.”
“I assume this has to do with preparations for that hunt you mentioned,” Star Swirl said as he squinted at the Gryphon. Finally, he sighed and waved his hoof dismissively before turning. “Oh, very well. Come in.”
“Admittedly, not really. More something I need you to look at,” Grif said as he entered.
“A moment, Grif.” The door closed, and Star Swirl cast the same spell he had the last time the trio visited with him. When the spell was properly in place, his horn glowed again as a second spell was layered over the first. “There. We should be able to speak more freely now. I’ve added some extra warding against scrying and some of the darker techniques one might use to gain information. I apologize for my behavior earlier, but I don’t wish to give our enemy any indication of our collusion.”
“That's fair.” Grif shrugged before he reached to the bandages around his arm. “I need you to look at this.” The bandages unravelled, exposing the glossy black crystal that had overtaken the feathers and scaling.
Star Swirl recoiled with a hiss. “Merciful Faust,” he swore. “What in Sleipnir’s name did you do to yourself?”
“I held back our adversary to let others get away,” Grif said grimly. He gazed into the crystal as the memories played over again and he recounted the tale.
“Well, this may explain some of the dark magic traces I’ve been sensing around the castle,” he mused. “I’m not surprised that Hammer Strike was able to identify the core aspects of the power that’s affecting you. Given the fact that you are in full control of your faculties, that implies either the focus of the corruption was meant to be used as a buffer to cut you off from using magic or perhaps that the power of this Sombra wasn’t yet strong enough to subvert your will. Either way, you are exceptionally lucky to be alive. Lesser beasts would have been utterly consumed by now.”
“Is there anything I should be worried about?” Grif asked
“Loss of self control, a slow descent into madness, a potential connection to your foe that could lead to total compromise of any plans you may have crafted, mutation into a mindless killing machine, just to name a few,” Star Swirl noted gravely. “I once knew a Pony who could treat this in a heartbeat, but he and his arts are all but lost in time. And his pupil….” Pain crossed the sorcerer’s face. “His pupil is also lost.”
“I … see. So there’s nothing you can do?”
“I’ve performed some research into various types of dark magic and its applications, if only to learn how to counter them. A proper analysis of the nature of the magic involved may yield some helpful clues. It will take me some time to determine, however. Probing a spell is delicate work when it comes to these arts.” He strode over to a table where a number of pulsing crystals sat in test tubes and stands. “Come. Lay your arm on this table. It’s wood, so you shouldn’t have to worry about the corruption having contact with the crystal palace’s network.”
Grif laid his arm gingerly where indicated while Star Swirl moved the objects out of the Gryphon’s way.
“As I said before, this will take some time. Is there anything I might be able to provide to you while you wait?”
“You have any books on Gryphon flight mechanics?”
“The military office, their airships, or their natural mode of flight?”
“Natural, please,” Grif said.
“Good. I haven’t got the others. And if I had, I most certainly wouldn’t have told you I have them regardless.” The stallion levitated a book to the Gryphon. “I wouldn’t recommend experimenting anywhere that you can be observed, however. One wandering pair of eyes at the wrong time could ruin everything.”
“I’m well aware,” Grif replied as he flipped open the book and began to analyze its pages.
As the Unicorn had warned, the procedure was a slow one. Tiny probing tendrils of white magic flowed from his horn to tap and push at various points along the Gryphon’s arm. His frown deepened as the probing continued, and the occasional spark of white energy would course through the crystals before it was smothered. Finally, the Unicorn’s probes switched from the crystal itself to the upper reaches of Grif’s arm. While the magic didn’t hurt, there was a certain amount of discomfort that the Gryphon did not like. That discomfort grew until the tendrils pulled back suddenly as if they had been stung.
Star Swirl nodded slowly as the light in his horn died. “Yes, I thought that might be the case. This is both comforting and troubling,” he said as he stroked his beard.
“How so?”
“The reason that you are not influenced by the corruption has to do with a unique field that you have surrounding your body. It is not of magic, but it does have a tenuous connection to it. It is possible that you may already know this, given the reaction this field also had to my probings over your normal body. What is troubling lies in the nature of the crystals that have infected you, however. Their latticework is strikingly similar to that of the Crystal Empire itself, structures that are grown at the behest of the queen through her connection to the crystal heart. To achieve this level of intricacy, Sombra would have to be able to not only incorporate his dark magic into the crystal but have a direct connection to the kingdom’s crystal network itself. So long as a direct heir remains, that connection cannot be properly solidified. It would be overruled, or at the very least challenged, by said heir when they came into their own.”
Grif’s eyes narrowed. “Is that so? Tell me, Star Swirl, what are your feelings about Ambrosia?”
“A self-entitled colt who takes himself far too seriously. That being said, there are few who have a closer connection to the queen, save perhaps for her children and her consort. She trusts him to care for the family and do what needs to be done for their sake and the sake of the kingdom’s future.”
“So what you're saying is he is the fourth in line for the throne currently?”
“The ascension is a bit trickier than that. It’s sort of a coin toss depending on who the crystal heart chooses as its next master or mistress. The primary decision is generally kept to the main line. But in the event that the primary bloodline is either deceased or some other circumstances render them unsuitable, the heart can choose another to stand in their place. Control the heart and you control the kingdom, but only if the heart allows you to. A truly fascinating piece of magical craftsmanship. It carries a piece of magic from every member of the royal family inside of it. When the current ruler either dies or steps down, the heart sorts through its options to choose who it will designate its next master.”
“He seems to not like his position in life.”
“There are many who feel that way in the world. And there will yet be many more.” Star Swirl sighed. “If you’re asking whether I might be able to determine if the magical wavelength in these protrusions is identical with Ambrosia, I’m afraid I can’t.” Star Swirl shook his head. “Until he draws deeply enough on dark magic to form a proper pact, his magical wavelength would remain pure enough to purge any lingering effects, assuming he paces himself properly. Hypothetically speaking, of course.”
“Then I guess we’ll have to hope we can react quickly,” Grif commented as he started to wrap his arm.
Star Swirl nodded. “Indeed. If your guess is right, then Pensword will need to watch himself. By asking for his support, I hoped to bolster your reputations and solidify the impression that you are who you claim to be. I’m afraid that I may also have painted a target on his back as a result.”
“Is there anything I need to know about Grif Grafson?”
“He specializes in dual-bladed combat. However, he is not afraid to use his body as a weapon. The loyalty that he shows to his master is a matter of religious obligation and intense loyalty. He would kill and die for his lord if the need arose, and he would think nothing of either one if it would ensure Hammer Strike’s safety and success. Intelligence indicates that he hails from the Northern Isles, and he is governed by his own conscience, rather than any power or authority. According to the queen, he has no respect for the royal crown unless it is earned. He has been known to care little for what other nobility or ranks think, speaking openly, even flippantly in some instances. One of his pet names for the princesses is a particular source of consternation for Celestia and a delight to her younger sister. He calls her, and I quote, ‘Sunbutt.’”
Grif chuckled loudly. “Sounds like he knows what he’s worth, at least.”
“He singlehandedly dispatched dozens of generals and high ranking military officers in the Gryphonian army from behind enemy lines. Rumors claim that he took their feathers to stuff a pillow that he personally had presented to Pensword. There are those who claim his disregard of rank stems from personal reasons, but I can neither confirm nor deny that information.”
“I see.” Grif nodded. “Thanks for the information.”
“Use it well, Grif. I suspect it will be more important to you than you think.” He picked up a book in his magic and tossed it to the Gryphon. “Take this. It’s a book I published based on the knowledge I gained from examining Gryphon culture. It should help you to better understand Grif’s background, at least from the perspective of the empire.”
“Thank you,” Grif said, taking the book. “I appreciate the help.”
“We’re to be allies in this, Grif. If you require more from me, I will offer what I can to the best of my ability.” He nodded. “I’ll also see about saving what volumes I can that could prove beneficial to us in the event that the worst should come to pass.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” Grif nodded as he turned to leave. “Keep your eyes open, Star Swirl. Let’s hope we can get through this all in one piece.”
As the door shut behind the Gryphon, Star Swirl couldn’t help but chuckle wryly and shake his head. “I have little doubt you will, Grif.” He sighed and looked regretfully at a small caricature of a mare’s head carved in blue crystal. “Time will tell. But I fear it will exact a terrible price in exchange.”
The clash of wooden swords rang through the air as a tiny blue colt lunged and jabbed while his much larger winged opponent parried and stumbled backward at the sudden assault.
“I have you now, villain! Take this!” the colt cried exuberantly as the sword flew toward the Pegasus.
Rather than allow the sword to strike true, Pensword flapped his wings to leap off the ground and parry once more, sending the colt’s wooden sword toward the ground. Pensword then dropped to the floor and barrelled toward the colt. “It appears the tables have turned, young adventurer.” He curled his lip into a grim smile. “Yield.”
“Sneak attack!” A great fluffy pillow smacked into Pensword’s face, causing him to stumble back as two blurs slammed into him and sent him tumbling toward the floor. In a matter of moments, three bodies had him pinned, and the wooden sword hovered over Pensword’s head.
Pensword laughed. “All right. All right. I’m clearly outmatched. All hail the conquering heroes, Prince Bellacosa and Princesses Cadance and Alto!”
Bellacosa pouted. “I told you to call me Cosy.”
“Is that the boon you wish to ask of me for your victory then, young warrior?” Pensword teased.
Cosey shook his head adamantly. “You’re not getting off that easily. Tell us about Equestria. What’s it like?”
Pensword smiled. “On the surface? It’s beautiful. A land covered with Ponies of all manner of tribes and backgrounds, each working to live and support the princesses they love so much.” Then he sighed. “But underneath that, it’s not so perfect. For every good Pony out there, you can usually find another bad one somewhere trying to make trouble for the rest.”
Cadance frowned. “How come?”
Pensword slowly extricated himself from beneath the siblings and sat properly on his rump to give his piece. “Some Ponies want things that they don’t have. And they’re not always willing to wait and work hard to earn them. So, instead, they try other ways to get what they want. Some steal. Some lie. And worst of all, … some kill.”
“Kill? But why?”
Pensword smiled sadly and brushed Cadance gently along the cheek with a hoof. “The Crystal Empire is embodied and defined by love, Princess. I would dare to say that your society is one of the most pristine and perfect I have ever beheld because of that fact. You share a unity that many of us in Equestria have to fight to obtain and maintain every day. The thing it often comes down to is a twist of emotion. Like a weed, if you suffer the seeds of greed or anger or hate to remain and grow, they feed on the good ground and choke out whatever else might be growing there instead. Even in your kingdom, a Pony can be susceptible to such corruption if one finds the proper way and fosters it.
“Allow me to repeat a lesson I once learned about magic, taught to me by Princess Celestia herself. Most magic that is performed by Ponies draws power from positive emotion and from the magic of the world around us. This power can do incredible things. It can heal wounds, lift heavy objects, transport mares and colts. But if one draws on the opposite, on anger, sorrow, hatred, rage, then that magic becomes something other than harmony. It becomes darkness. And once darkness is allowed to take root, it can be difficult to expunge fully. One can do great things with that power, but those great things are often terrible. Such is the nature of those emotions, and thus of the magic they create. It’s why your mother is so important to the empire, and why one of you three will be someday, too. You will embody the pure force that can dispel darkness, just as she does.” He smiled at all three of them. “You will spread love, light, and decency. And that is both a great honor and a terrible burden. But it is one that I think the three of you will be able to bear one day, if you apply yourselves, if you really try to make a difference for the ones you love.”
The Pegasus tapped each foal on their chests. “And it all starts in there.”
“Is that what Thestrals do when they talk with the dead?” Cosy asked.
Pensword smiled sadly. “We try. Love, unfortunately, doesn’t always work alone. It needs the support of those who would protect it as well as offer it. But yes, you could say that the acts of bringing the dead peace are a way of giving love to those who cannot seek it out for themselves.” He chuckled. “Ah, but enough about such subjects. I know of two individuals who are waiting to see you. And now that you’ve bested me in combat, it’s only proper that the victors earn their prize.” He rose to his hooves. “Come. Put away your swords and tidy up. Then we’re going on a field trip.”
The journey to the forges was uneventful. Crystal guards flanked the foals and Pensword as they traveled through the halls, passing servants and other guards until the ring of crystal once again vibrated through their ears.
“Brace yourselves, children.” Pensword smiled at the foals. “It’s going to get very hot, but I think you won’t be disappointed by the treasure we are about to discover within these walls.”
Sparks flew as the Lord of the Everfree plied his craft. To the side, a familiar black Gryphon with a green crest and breast worked at the whetstone to sharpen his throwing knives.
“Grif, Milord, I come bearing guests,” Pensword announced.
Hammer Strike glanced up from his current project before giving a small smile. “Ah, you’ve brought over Cadance, Alto, and Bellacosa.”
The three foals bowed to the Pony lord as decorum demanded. Alto eyed the glowing steel with wide eyes while Cadance and Cosy gaped at the rest of the forge and its many tools and weapons.
“Mother never let us come here before,” Cadance said.
“I’m not surprised,” Pensword replied. “A forge can be a dangerous place for foals without proper supervision. Fortunately for you, you won’t find anywhere safer in all of Equis than with Hammer Strike, Grif, and myself.”
“Unless it’s a battlefield,” Grif commented.
Pensword rolled his eyes helplessly. “Grif.”
“What’s it like? Having to fight someone for real, I mean?” Cosy asked.
“It depends on what you’re fighting over,” Pensword said. “Some fights are simple, like sparring. You fight until there’s a clear victor and then stop. Others, … others are less clear to describe.”
“Those ‘others’ are not pretty or glorious,” Grif explained. “You spend most of the time scared for your life,” he said as he examined one of the blades and tested its edge. “Never let someone tell you you shouldn’t be scared. Fear is healthy,” Grif explained.
“So you’re saying it’s good to be scared?” Cosy asked.
“It’s normal to be,” Pensword corrected. “But that doesn’t mean you should be all the time. Nor does it mean that you should let it keep you from acting. There is a saying that my friend once shared with me many years ago. Fear is the mind killer. It is healthy, yes, but uncontrolled, it can paralyze you, scatter your ability to think clearly, and that is not good when you are in a fight. A person must learn to experience fear without giving in to it. Only then will they have the chance of finding success.”
“Is that why Ponies wear armor?” Alto asked. “So they don’t have to feel so scared?”
Grif shrugged. “Yes and no. No matter what happens, you're always going to be scared going to battle. The armor helps you stay safe, and so it makes it easier.”
“So, … making armor is like an act of love for the soldiers who wear it?” Alto asked.
“In a way,” Grif laughed.
“It’s a comfort, especially when made by a trusted smith. It gives them the strength to face their fear head-on, knowing they’ll have something to protect them,” Hammer Strike spoke up.
“Then you must be one of the most caring Ponies in Equestria,” Alto said to the stallion. “You helped to make a lot of the armor that was used in the war. And everypony keeps talking about how they want something forged by you.”
Hammer Strike gave a brief chuckle. “Perhaps. Though in the end, I just like ensuring everyone around me is safe.”
“No wonder Mother wanted us to know all of you better.” Cosy grinned. “You’re amazing!”
Pensword chuckled. “No, Cosy, we’re normal people, just like you. That’s the secret, really. The most amazing things come from the simplest of creatures. You don’t need powerful magic or super strength to make a difference in someone’s life. You just need to keep being you and do your best to help.”
“So, … can we help you out, then, Mister Grif?” Cosy asked.
“You two can,” Grif told Cadance and Cosy. “But you just watch,” he told Alto. “Ok?”
Alto pouted, but nodded as the other two approached the table and Grif showed them how to do the work.
The old sorcerer was many things: a scholar, a magician, a Pony of no small reputation in the empire. He was also one who knew better than to allow a hot head to prevail in a rapidly approaching conflict. And he knew it was best to hedge his bets when preparing for those inevitable clashes. Thus, he found himself trotting toward the royal forges, where the ring of crystal hammer blows sang in vibration with the steel and other materials that were doubtless being drawn upon for the grim task that lay ahead.
The blast of heat wafted over Star Swirl’s beard and jangled the bells on his cloak and hat as he entered the chamber to behold the subject of his visit. The Earth Pony was hard at work, but despite the bags under his eyes, his grip was steady, his blows sure.
“Have you been working here this whole time?” the sorcerer asked.
“I did take a small break for breakfast,” Hammer Strike replied as he kept his attention on his work. “Has something come up?”
“Not as of yet. More that I wanted the chance to meet with you alone.” He peered intently at the Pony. “Do you often do things like this? From what Critical Flaw has told me, you’ve been here at the forge for nearly the last twenty-four hours.”
“It’s already been twenty-four hours?” Hammer Strike paused his work briefly and frowned. “I think I’m on schedule still,” he muttered thoughtfully.
“Just how long do you plan to keep pushing yourself?” Star Swirl asked. “Have you even stopped to rehydrate?”
“Occasionally, yeah.” Hammer Strike finally placed his hammer down and looked at Star Swirl. “Until I have finished, I’ll keep at this. Even if it may be a detriment to myself.”
“Then before you continue, there is one thing more I would like to confirm, if I may.”
Hammer Strike simply raised a brow questioningly.
“You have a field that surrounds you, one that isn’t related to magic, don’t you?”
Hammer Strike stared at him for a few seconds as his brows furrowed briefly. “Though I find myself surprised to hear of it being mentioned, I will at least confirm that I do. Though it makes me wonder how you know about it.”
“A Pony I once knew a long time ago had a similar field. It carried a vast and dangerous power, one that he would not teach to any, save for one. We … did not part on the best of terms. It is … surprising to see it again after all of this time. I learned of its existence when Grif came to my quarters to see what I could do to aid him with a certain … problem that I believe you are familiar with.”
“The crystals of corruption.” Hammer Strike sighed as he grabbed his next piece of work.
“Indeed. I … also wished to let you know that I’ll do everything in my power to ensure you and your friends make it through this disaster. If there is any way I might be able to help enhance your work, please, don’t hesitate to call on me. It’s been some time since I enchanted armaments, but I still know enough to help combat those darker influences I mentioned earlier.”
“Thank you for the offer. Sadly, I don’t have anything I can offer for enchanting, as I’m… not quite finished just yet. Once I have actual pieces complete, I’ll try to get in contact with you.” Hammer Strike frowned as he looked over the plate on the anvil in front of him.
Star Swirl passed a crystal embedded in a pendant to the Earth Pony. “Use this to call me. It’s attuned to a twin that I keep on my person. Their unique frequency ensures that only the two of us will be able to speak with one another between them. Just tap the crystal and speak. I will hear you.”
“Got it.” Hammer Strike placed the pendant into his coat. “Hopefully it won’t be too long from now.”
Star Swirl nodded. “I’ll await your call. Until next we meet, Hammer Strike. Know that I wish you well.”
“So, according to what I was able to read up on, the empire has several types of crystals with unique properties,” Grif explained as he and Pensword approached the forge. “This kind, for instance,” he pulled out a large bright yellow crystal, “apparently will let out a burst of light if you break it.”
“Is the reaction at all chemical or more magical?” Pensword asked curiously.
“Magical, I think,” he said, drawing out a smaller one that was orange with a black center. “This kind is super stable until exposed to heat.”
“And then?”
“It explodes,” Grif said.
“Like a battery level of explosion or something more potent?”
“A lot more potent,” Grif said. “This is good for a third of a stick of dynamite if I understood the entry correctly.”
Pensword whistled. “That’s strong stuff.”
Grif nodded, putting the crystal away as they found the door.
Once more, Hammer Strike stood before them at the forge. This time, however, he stood before a series of tables, all laden with cloths to conceal what lay beneath. He smiled familiarly as the pair entered, and though that perpetual look of tiredness hung around his eyes, pride flared brightly.
“You called us, Milord?” Pensword asked with a smirk.
“It’s done.” Hammer Strike gestured to the tables. “Took less time than I anticipated, but the quality should be fine.”
“So, are you going to pull a houdini with the whole grand flourish to show off?” Pensword asked.
“I just wanted a nice reveal for it.” Hammer Strike shrugged. “Left is yours, Pensword. Right is yours, Grif. And my own is in the center.”
What lay beneath Pensword’s cover was made of fine burnished steel with crystalline inlay. The clever garb was designed to provide minimal openings to the wing joints it closed around while simultaneously granting extra plating over the barding at his chest. The rear flowed artfully, like the underbelly of a storm cloud. Crystalline extensions draped over his flanks to protect on either side while powerful horseshoes waited to shod his hooves and strike with all the force he could muster. Lastly, a helmet complete with waiting plume for his mane and prehensile jointed ear pieces sat next to what at first appeared to be a form of scaly mail with a feather design.
“What’s this?” Pensword asked as he poked at the pile, only to find that it slid apart into two portions.
“A quick experiment I made from some reading I did before our trip here. They’re wingblades,” Hammer Strike explained. “Works with the general movement of your flight, and can be used accordingly.”
“So, sort of like a set of secondary swords?” Pensword looked at the pile in thought. “Think you can help me put these things on?”
“Sure, though you’ll find it’s not too complicated, thankfully.”
“What have you got, Grif?” Pensword asked curiously as he picked up the strange devices and handed them gingerly to Hammer Strike.
Grif held up a suit of leather armor tacked with carefully fitted steel plates that had been placed to allow a good range of movement while offering necessary defensive ability. He tested the weight before nodding to himself as he slipped it on. “It seems sturdy enough,” he commented as he tested its range of motion. “Thanks, Hammer Strike.”
“And with that, I have completed our sets of armor and equipment. Meaning, I need to get some rest.” Hammer Strike exhaled.
“You’re not going to try on your armor, too? Or have you already tested it to make sure it fits?” Pensword asked.
“I know it fits, so there’s that, but….” He moved over to the extra table and pulled off the final cover to reveal a set of platemail. It wasn’t too intricate beyond the joints, but seemed functional enough to serve its purpose. A set of Pony gauntlets had been fashioned to fit over Hammer Strike’s hooves. The plating and spikes around them made them an ideal weapon for close range combat.
Pensword frowned. “You put more time into ours, didn’t you?”
“It works fine. I made your sets dependent on weight. That way, you could still move freely. As I am, I can move more weight and handle it easier, leading to this. It covers me fine and works well.” He shrugged. “It just weighs more. Oh, right.” He turned to face Grif. “Before I forget,” he said as he moved back toward a separate table, “I finished up all your throwing knives, Grif.”
“Thanks.” Grif approached the table. “Wait, what did you do?” He seized the bandolier and examined the curious creations. Metal tangs jutted out from the sheaths with no sign of a handle. Removing one exposed a blade with deep etching to make it look just like a feather.
“You mentioned you wanted them more noticeable, so I made them noticeable.”
“This is amazing,” Grif said as he examined one up close. “This must have taken you hours.” He slid the blade back into its slot and slid the bandolier on.
“I used them as a way to reset myself mentally when I started to zone out from making the armor.”
“Well, they're amazing, and I'm proud to use them,” Grif said.
“Glad to hear.”
“Good. Now that we’ve got that settled, Hammer Strike, you should probably at least try to get some sleep, like you said you were going to,” Pensword noted.
“That’s the plan.” Hammer Strike nodded.
“Not before we’ve set another plan in place,” Star Swirl said as he barged into the room and slammed the doors shut behind him. Moments later, the same silencing field and a multitude of other wards sprung up to cover the room in his power. “Our enemy is preparing to make his move. The threads of an intricate illusion spell are being woven over the city as we speak. And with them is an equally problematic field designed to intercept all natural forms of magical communication. Not even dragon fire would be able to pass through without the caster’s permission. I fear only communication crystals will serve us now to get past the blockade, and even those may be suspect if our enemy is clever enough.”
“Joy. As if anything could be simple,” Hammer Strike sighed.
“I believe you’ll come to learn that few things in this world are, once you get beyond the surface. In the passing of time.” He approached Pensword’s helmet and eyed the pivoting earpiece. “Take it from an old stallion. I have my secrets, and my experiences. You’ll doubtless have many more of your own as you develop into your mantle.”
“Only time will tell.” Hammer Strike shrugged. “In any case, it would be best to cover what we can while I still maintain consciousness.”
Star Swirl nodded grimly. “According to your,” he cleared his throat disapprovingly, “sources, the empire must inevitably fall. It will be up to you, Pensword, to ensure that the children are escorted safely out of the bounds of the city. Our enemy will likely know, or at least suspect, our intentions to take the children away to safety.” He shook his head. “The passage leading to the safehouse will likely be trapped. You will have to take them by land and use the escape hatch for entry.”
“And how am I supposed to find this safehouse in the middle of a frozen wasteland?” Pensword asked.
“Give me your helmet,” the stallion ordered.
Pensword did so, and Star Swirl looked to the metal scrollwork at the brow. A few carefully placed runes and a zap of magic soon left the helmet levitating back onto the Pony’s head.
“I’ve charted the course for you in your helmet. It will use the crystal palace as its anchor and orient you accordingly. Follow the path it leads you by, and only do so when you are certain you are not being followed. Tap the runes, first on your right, then your left, and finally the guard along the bridge of your nose. That will trigger the spell. When you wish to dismiss it, reverse the process.”
Pensword nodded gravely. “You’re certain our enemy won’t be able to sense that connection?”
Star Swirl smirked. “I find it highly unlikely, given where I’ve placed the anchor. Rest assured, he won’t be able to reach it or even so much as touch it.” That smirk soon dissipated, however, in favor of a frown. “Talking of getting there is one thing. Getting the foals out of the city is quite another.”
“I could create a diversion,” Grif offered
Star Swirl furrowed his brow in thought. “You said you were attacked by feral Changelings before arriving at the empire. Manufacturing a more brazen attack might be enough to throw our enemy off balance and provide an opening. It will also provide you the opportunity to lead civilians to safety.”
“Not enough time. And where would we even find enough Changelings? I doubt any hive would be willing to throw their lives away like that with nothing in return,” Pensword noted.
“Our enemy isn’t the only one who is adept at illusions, Pensword. I’ve written several papers on the subject, as a matter of fact. We would need a few Unicorns who would be willing to make the damage more substantial, however.” He looked at the trio. “Just how many royal guards have you been able to recruit?”
“Currently just shy of half,” Grif commented. “We’ve had a good amount of success, despite the cloak and dagger.”
“I assume you have Critical Flaw to thank for that,” Star Swirl noted. “Your skill for recognizing talent is as bright as the tales say. As is your subtlety in its use.”
“I just hope we can keep the foals safe,” Pensword said.
“They need to be our secondary priority,” Grif said. “As much as I hate saying that, we need to focus on securing the timeline first.”
“And getting them out will, will it not?” Star Swirl asked pointedly. “I don’t know everything about your future, but I know enough from your reaction to the foals when you first met that they are important to you. Or at least one of them is.”
“Make no mistake,” Grif said tersely as he locked eyes with Star Swirl. “I do not like the idea of letting children die, and I will do everything within my power to save them, but if you know anything about time travel, you know how dangerous the butterfly effect can be. I won’t toy around with millions of lives like that either.”
“Grif, at the very least, I have to protect Cadance. She’s the rightful heir,” Pensword said softly. “Help me get them out safely, and then we’ll let the cards fall where they may.”
“And they won’t stay together forever, Grif. But until we can contact Equestria at the safehouse, I’m protecting all three of them,” Pensword said with equal conviction. “You said you would do your utmost to protect them. So will I.”
Grif shrugged. “Anyway, what other details are there?”
“When the empire falls, we will need a place to regroup as well, and hold out until reinforcements arrive. A … colleague of sorts has been delving into the older portions of the empire lately as part of his research. There are several passages leading into long abandoned mines. The maze-like structure of the tunnels should prove advantageous to us, provided we can devise a means to navigate them.”
“We’ll have to look into them as soon as possible.” Hammer Strike nodded.
“I’ll see what arrangements I can make,” Star Swirl said. “In the meantime, I know that you need to get your rest. A word of warning, however. It’s a distinct possibility that our enemy will try to harm you if he can. I advise caution, should you choose to return to your customary chambers. If you prefer, I can arrange for alternate accommodations for you to rest and prepare.”
“I’ll go back, if only to bait them,” Grif said.
“I’ll need someone to watch over me, since I need some rest,” Hammer Strike sighed.
“Then you come back to the room with me?” Grif asked him.
“Probably for the best.”
“I guess that leaves me with the watch on the foals this time around, then,” Pensword said. “I assume you plan to have Critical Flaw come with you, too?”
“Maybe. I’d have to get in contact, but, given my current exhaustion, I don’t even know where to look at this moment.” Hammer Strike frowned.
“If you wish him summoned, I can find him and ensure he is brought to you,” Star Swirl assured.
“I’d appreciate it. Just … know that I’ll probably be passed out by the time he arrives.”
“Well, I guess this is goodbye for now,” Grif commented.
Star Swirl nodded. “I will try to reach you again before events take their course. If we do not, then I will trust in you to give me the proper signal to start the diversion.”
“Stay safe old timer,” Grif said.
“I’d say good luck, but I’ve a feeling you won’t be needing it. Instead, I think I will say … good hunting.” And with that, Star Swirl nodded, removed the spells he had cast, and made his way out the door. “Until next time, Lord Hammer Strike.”
The atmosphere in the royal children’s bedchamber was calm and gentle. In this haven, there was no sign of evil, no rumblings or murmur of deceit or betrayal. There was only the time of blissful innocence born of love and a naivety to the crueler realities of an adult world. Here, the stories of war were the basis of games, the battles a chance to create a new fantasy where they could live for a time as they wished and change the narrative. The great pillow fort of Triumph had been reduced to rubble as the choicest of pillows were fluffed and placed on the foals’ beds. Pensword smiled fondly, albeit tiredly, at the trio as they drifted toward sleep.
“Pensword?” the pink Pegasus asked.
“Yes, Cadance?”
“Do you think we could play a different game tomorrow?”
Pensword chuckled. “After Cosy learns to clean his armor. After all, he needs to know how to protect his sisters, now doesn’t he?”
Cadance pouted. “I can take care of myself.”
“Maybe,” Pensword said. “But it never hurts to have friends and family to support you on the days that you can’t. A war can’t be won by one combatant alone.” He sighed. “Sadly, the same can’t be said for starting one.”
Pensword shook his head and stroked the mare’s mane gently. “No, not yet, Cadance. For now, you and your siblings need to sleep. If something does go wrong, I promise, I’ll do everything I can to protect you. And I don’t go back on my word. Do we have a deal?”
“All right,” Cadance said as she struggled to stifle a yawn. “Deal.”
“Then I’ll see you three in the morning. For now, I know a foal who needs her rest, and a Pegasus who should be seeking his own bed.”
“An adult going to bed this early?”
“Early to bed, early to rise, makes a foal healthy and wealthy and wise,” Pensword quipped as he strode toward the door. “Good night, Princess. And may you have many pleasant dreams.”
The door closed behind him, and he turned to face a familiar steel-colored stallion.
“Hello, Ambrosia,” Pensword greeted.
Ambrosia peered over the stallion’s shoulder to the door behind him. “All tucked in for the night?” he inquired.
Pensword nodded. “And under increased guard, as the queen commanded. I assume she told you what Star Swirl discovered by now.”
Ambrosia nodded. “These are grave times, indeed. I wonder, Pensword, if you would be willing to join me for a walk through the castle. There are certain matters I would discuss with you. And given the disturbing news, I would rather we hold our conversation in a place where listening ears might not be able to follow us so easily.”
“I prefer to keep my dealings in the open, Ambrosia. Grif is the one who specializes in stealth and espionage.”
“And we will. However, I would rather we not have these discussions in a place where certain young foals who should be in bed might be trying to listen through their door,” Ambrosia countered. Then he gestured with a hoof. “Walk with me.”
“Very well,” Pensword said grudgingly. The pair strode through the halls at a casual gait. The rest of the world was calm, but the tension inside the Pegasus was enough to snap a pylon in two.
“I want to be blunt, Pensword.”
“So I’ve noticed.”
Ambrosia chuckled ruefully and shook his head. “You are pert.”
“It’s a trait Hammer Strike approves of in those who are close to him.”
“I see.”
“As do I,” Pensword noted. “Why don’t you say what’s on your mind, Ambrosia? Beating around the bush gets you killed on the battlefield. You have my permission to be blunt, though I don’t see why you would need it.”
“I don’t,” Sombra said with some heat. Then he reined himself in. “Not from you, at any rate. But that is my own affair.” He shook his head. “I’ve come to ask for your help, Pensword.”
“In what way?”
“Your kind are well known in the empire. It is said that your people are able to not only hunt in the shadows but to hunt the very shadows themselves. It is a skill that we need now.”
“I’m afraid you overestimate me, Ambrosia.” Pensword shook his head. “Even if I could hunt the shadows you ask, that skill will be needed to protect the foals until this crisis is past. I can’t afford to offer you my support in your hunt and keep them safe at the same time.”
“The guards seem to be doing an adequate job of that on their own.”
“The guards haven’t faced dark magic before, as you well know.”
“And you have?”
“After a fashion,” Pensword said. “It’s not a thing to scoff at. Nor is it to be underestimated. A skilled practitioner in those arts would find an easy mark in this city. I doubt it is a coincidence that these rumblings should come so shortly after the war was finished and guards have been dropped.”
“Ever the tactician,” Ambrosia said.
“Fight in a war yourself and you’ll understand why,” Pensword returned bleakly.
“I’m not mocking you, Pensword. Far from it.” Ambrosia shook his head. “It’s that kind of mind that I desire as an asset.” The halls were eerily quiet now, and the pair’s hooves echoed loudly down the corridors as they clopped along. Guards saluted or remained aloof interchangeably as the two advanced. “Join forces with me, and we will yet preserve a glorious future for the empire.”
“You make it sound like I haven’t already,” Pensword pointed out.
“That’s because you haven’t.”
Pensword was expecting the attack. He knew enough to know that Ambrosia wouldn’t want to allow them the chance to stop his rise to power. It was only natural. And a proper coup couldn’t be complete if the rightful heirs to the throne weren’t dealt with. A flare of his wings sent him leaping into the air to evade the oncoming charge. However, while the guards that attacked him weren’t so agile, Ambrosia had no such difficulty. His horn pulsed an ugly red as dark purple curled up the spiral. His eyes glowed emerald green. Red welled up within his irises like blood as he fired at the hall surrounding the Pony. And inexperienced as Pensword was in flight, it was impossible to evade the Unicorn’s magic forever. Black crystal burst in jagged protrusions wherever the rays of Ambrosia’s dark magic touched until, at last, Pensword was neatly bound by a growth over his hooves. Try though he might, he couldn’t escape.
Ambrosia let loose a vicious grin as he approached the Pegasus. “But you will, Pensword.” He motioned contemptuously at his prisoner. “Restrain him.”
The former crystalline sheen on the guard ponies’ coats had dulled into a slick reflective black while empty green eyes stared blankly at their target. The guards were mute as they approached the Pegasus and seized both wings firmly in a grasp that was supernaturally strong, even for a Pony with their training. The two guards finally settled Pensword’s struggles by forcing their bodies against his in a mockery of rank and file. Black crystal jutted into existence from their horseshoes and in patches along their armor as Ambrosia laughed.
“Sombra!” Pensword hissed venomously.
Ambrosia sneered as he drew just shy of biting distance from the Pegasus. “Sombra. Is that what Thestrals call people like me?” He laughed. “I like it.” The sneer widened into a demented grin as once-flat teeth lengthened and sharpened into fangs. “But do you know what I like even more?” He flicked his horn, and the dark magic intensified, firing twin beams at the guards. Teeth sharpened. Their manes became little more than wisps of shadow, and as the power flooded through them, they developed body mass that would rival Big Mac in time with the black crystal drinking in the Unicorn’s magic.
The two guards saluted as one and droned, “Master.”
“That’s absolutely right.” Sombra circled around his thralls as he casually conjured a twisted black crystal dagger from a shadowy portal. “It was child’s play to dose my troops with my secret spice.” He chortled. “Crystal is as crystal does, after all. It feeds. It grows. And it follows its matrices. My matrices. Don't worry, Pensword,” he sneered. “You’ll love it, too, when my little tool here is finished with you.”
“Like Tartarus I will,” Pensword spat.
A well-placed beam of energy from Sombra soon had Pensword muzzled. “Much though I would love to watch that resolve crumble, I have a schedule to keep, and we can’t have you alerting anyone else with silly screams when I stab you. Do try to be ready in time for the coup, won’t you? I’ll be looking for a new commander when I ascend the throne.”
Pensword had more than a few choice words for the usurper, but the muzzle wouldn’t allow him to convey them. Then came the pain as the knife struck home. Fire burned through muscle and veins as he screamed in vain. And then all was blackness.
Grif sat at a desk idly fiddling with a throwing blade in his talons as he waited impatiently. “He’s been gone a long time,” he said for the fifth time.
“He said he would protect the foals. It’s likely that he’s doing exactly that. Perhaps he chose to sleep in their room,” Star Swirl suggested.
“He’d have sent a form of communication by now,” Grif said.
“And who would he trust to deliver such a message?”
“There are ways,” Grif said. “I’m just worried, okay?”
“If there’s one thing I know, it’s that you three will make it through this crisis. Have faith in your friend. And, barring that, allow an old stallion to go looking. It’s not unusual for me to wander the palace halls, after all. If something is amiss, I will find Pensword and return him safely. You have my word. All I require is something of his to aid me in my search. A hair will suffice, if you have it. Or a feather, perhaps.”
Grif took a minute, but managed to find a single silvery white mane strand.
Star Swirl nodded as he took the strand in his magic, then wrapped it around a needle he removed from his cloak. “This will point me in the right direction. Be at ease, Grif. But remain vigilant. I will do my best to return to you within the hour.”
“Oh, I will be vigilant,” Grif said. “The password is Attila.”
“So be it.” And with those parting words, the stallion took his leave and the door shut behind him, leaving Grif alone to stand watch over Hammer Strike while his worry for Pensword gnawed at his innards.
Grif, for his part, was twiddling with one of his feather-shaped blades. He’d already locked the door and added a few extra locks that people wouldn’t expect for an inn door. Hammer Strike’s letter had warned the time was drawing close. If Sombra was going to make his move, it would have to be within the next few hours. And that inevitably meant only one thing. Blood would spill tonight.
The first confirmation of his suspicions came with the subtle creaking of the floorboards in the bathroom. There was no entrance into that place, save through the door in their suite. And that could only mean one thing; assassins.
Grif Stood and carefully slid the blade into a spot between the leather and one of the metal plates of his breastplate before grabbing one of the knives he’d gotten from hammer strike. Giving an obnoxiously louds yawn and a stretch, even scratching the crystal a bit for effect with his talons, he made his way toward the bathroom as nonchalantly as possible. Silently, Grif approached the bathroom door and stretched again, spreading his entire wingspan out as if he was trying to exercise a kink out of them. He placed the knife tip into the top of the hinges and slid the pins out deftly. Then he counted to three and bashed the door with a shoulder, causing the heavy portal to twist awkwardly inward. He was rewarded with the sound of wood thumping against flesh and metal and … something else? Ignoring the thought for the moment, he pounced into the bathroom. Landing on the recovering guard, he twisted and threw a blade just as the second’s shock was wearing off. It dug into the Pony’s throat. The guard pinned beneath Grif attempted to push him and the door off, but Grif took another knife from his bandolier and drove it beneath the attacker's jawbone, severing the spine quickly.
Grif waited to make sure both Ponies had stopped moving before he retrieved his knives and stepped back. He examined them closely. Their armor still shone purple, but unlike the usual guards, these had something wrong with them. Black crystal similar to his own arm grew off them in various places, and veins of black spidered through their bodies, marring the sheen of their crystal coats.
Confident in the destruction of their enemies, he turned back, realizing he’d left Hammer Strike open. He raced toward the door, only to freeze at the sound of a meaty thud followed by the splintering of bone and wood. What he found when he entered the bedroom was a very awake and very angry Hammer Strike. His eyes were alert, and his chest filled with deep breaths as he calmed himself. Next to the Pony’s bed, the corpse of an additional guard laid in the fragmented remains of the night stand. Blood flowed freely from the guard’s nose and mouth while the bludgeoned remnants of his face gaped back at the Pony who had just dispatched him so brutally.
“I see I missed one,” Grif sighed.
“Huh?” Hammer Strike looked to Grif in a strange mixture of confusion, adrenaline, and muddiness that accompanies one who has been woken by surprise.
“It seems our enemy decided to make his move,” Grif said as he strapped on his other gear.
“How long has it been?” Hammer Strike asked after a few seconds.
“A few hours. Pensword didn’t return, so Star Swirl went to check on him,” Grif said. “If Ambrosia’s making a move like this, he must be planning to act within the next few hours.”
“Great.” Hammer Strike sighed. “All right, I can work off a few hours. Get our selected guards prepared, and I’ll figure things out from there.”
Grif nodded and headed for the door. “Password is Attila.”
“Got it.” Hammer Strike nodded as he moved towards his gear.
Ambrosia strode calmly into the throne room, as he always had done for the many years in which he had lived and served in his position of authority. Never in the spotlight, and always beneath his family. Hatred burned still, but mingled with an even hotter anticipation. A thrill of unholy pleasure flared outward, warming him as he strode toward the throne room and the waiting ears of his queen.
“Your Majesty,” he whispered calmly into the mare’s ear as he took his customary place at her side. “We have a code black. Please, remain calm and dismiss the court. Rest assured, the foals are taken care of.”
The one tell the queen gave was the flick of her tail and the subtle stiffening of her body. “What you have to say to me will be said to all of the family, Ambrosia,” she replied. She raised her wings and motioned with her horn to close off the openings to the throne room, as she had once before at the dining hall when Star Swirl issued his warning. “Friends, cousins, my brothers and sisters, I apologize for startling you, but the situation is dire.” Her horn flicked again and a bubble of warm red light flowed outward to fill the room. Ambrosia winced as the power passed over him, but nothing more. “Ambrosia brings dire news.”
The stallion nodded and cleared his throat. “As Star Swirl confirmed, there have been traces of dark magic in the kingdom. These forces have been gradually swelling in strength over time. We do not know for how long. However, it is clear that whoever our enemy is, he or she is clever. On my way into the palace from my rounds in the city, I chanced to trip on my way toward the palace entrance.” He schooled his face with remorse and gravity. “My queen, my fellow nobles, when I fell, my horn should have struck the crystal heart.” A low groan of dismay flooded through the room as Ambrosia turned his gaze on Blood Diamond and then abased himself before her. “It is to my eternal shame that I say it did not. Your Majesty, … the crystal heart is gone.”
“Impossible!” one of the nobles snapped. “If the heart had been taken, the power flowing from the castle would have ceased immediately.”
Sombra shook his head. “Another illusion, I’m afraid, Lady Feldspar. The reason that the kingdom has been exposed to such traces lies not in some stealthy operation to infiltrate the empire, but rather is the result of a large scale illusion that is fueled by the very same power. The traces are the result of its cycle of decay and renewal. It is the only logical explanation for what Star Swirl has detected. And if our enemy has removed our greatest defense, then it’s only a matter of time before they move to attack. We must be prepared. And more importantly, Your Majesty, we must activate the Scattered Wind Protocol.”
“What you say is grave, Ambrosia,” Blood Diamond said as she gazed down at the stallion. “And it is something that I must verify for myself. I will return shortly.” The air sparkled with the remnants of the flash from her teleportation. A minute later, the queen returned the same way she had left. Her face was stricken as she spoke with a haggard voice. “Ambrosia speaks true. It would seem that we are, indeed, under attack, though we cannot as yet see our enemy.”
“Your Majesty, much though it pains me to say this, the protocol must begin. The troops can be mobilized quietly and efficiently, but we must protect the family.”
“You are right.” The queen’s expression was wan from the weight of the gravity that was her loss. It was a loss that her people would doubtless feel in due time if she could not protect them. She raised her horn, and her magic flooded into the crystal at the top of her throne. In a matter of moments, that light radiated and passed over her body to spread through the crystal until the floor disappeared to reveal a spiraling stairwell. “Follow the path to the teleportation circle. Don’t push, and don’t shove. You will all be able to make it to the other side,” she assured them. Under her steady gaze, the nobles departed, looking back with remorse and regret as each bowed gravely to their queen and began their descent.
“You said my children are taken care of?” Blood Diamond asked gravely as the procession continued.
“Yes, my queen. They are in the care of Commander Pensword and Lord Hammer Strike.”
Blood Diamond sighed. “Then they are safe.”
“For now, yes. It would be wise if you were to join the rest of the party, Your Majesty.”
Blood Diamond shook her head. “I won’t leave the empire undefended. That retreat is for those who will carry the future forward. My duty is to protect the present, so that we can have a future.”
“Then, … begging Your Majesty’s pardon, … would you be willing to see this poor stallion off?”
Blood Diamond smiled weakly. “How could I resist the request of someone who’s done so much for this kingdom?”
The descent down the stairs was a slow one as Sombra picked his way toward the depths far below. As the light faded in favor of the dim coolness of the crystal, the space took on the dark appeal of a dungeon. Not a pleasant place under normal circumstances, but an ideal choice for a practitioner of the dark arts. The door to the stairwell laid in wait, its magical surface wide open to welcome the last two to pass into its surface. The wind whistled sweetly through it from the base of the tower to which it led. When Sombra was certain that the remainder of the nobles had left, he cast a beam or magic at the crystal above the door, forcing it to close. “And with that, the rest of the family is safe.”
“Ambrosia, what are you doing?” Blood Diamond demanded.
Ambrosia smiled as he approached and knelt before the queen. “I’ve served you for all this time, my queen. I will serve you still. Until death do us part.”
Blood Diamond raised Sombra’s chin to look at him with that mixture of abiding gratitude and deep frustration that always seems to follow heroes and protagonists in such situations. “This isn’t the time for games. The children will need someone to guide them when they come into their own.”
“And they will have it,” Ambrosia said as he took the hoof and brought it low to kiss her horseshoe. Then he lunged forward, and his horn struck true. Bright red blood rippled along his horn and spread over his forehead as that gentle smile tore away in a triumphant sneer. “I will guide them to the grave, right after you.” His horn surged with the power he had kept so long in check as he flooded his magic through the mare’s body from the very heart he had pierced. Miasma seeped from his eyes as his irises turned scarlet and glowed with the surrounding green. Black crystal seeped and burst from the queen’s body as she gaped in utter disbelief at the sudden and unexpected betrayal.
Sombra laughed as the queen’s power ebbed with her life force, having cut off all avenues to conjure any form of magic against him. As the black crystal consumed the mare’s chest, he tore his horn free with a sickening sucking scrape. What emerged was not the familiar spiral of the noble Unicorn, but rather a sharp curved protrusion designed to impale and to kill. Instead of gray, it seemed the blood had permanently dyed its surface, leaving an ominous red, the badge of his dreadful deed. The laughter rose to manic proportions as he watched the light fading from those shocked orbs.
“Your power is mine now.” Blood dripped to the floor as dark miasma flooded from the queen’s mouth and eyes to be sucked into the increasingly darker stallion’s body. Black magic surged from his horn and lashed out over the room to strike the walls, the stairwell, and the door, infecting the once-bright structures with his taint and twisting them with his jagged will. “What better source of darkness than a broken heart?” He drew up to the queen and kissed her in a last mocking gesture as the crystal consumed her completely. “And what is the heart of a kingdom?” He sneered and stomped his hoof on the floor. Massive black crystal formations converged on the queen and shattered her corpse. “Its queen.” With that last sickening act complete, Sombra could feel the power of the mantle passing over him, the sense of control, the power to direct his power into the very streets, the very hearts and minds of the pathetic citizenry, even as Blood Diamond once had.
Diamonds shatter, but shadows never die.
“The queen is dead,” Ambrosia said as he licked a trickle of blood from his fur and his teeth sharpened in response to the taste. His mane flared and floated behind him in a profane imitation of the princesses and his former ruler. But instead of light or color, there was only blackness that spread in sideburns along his muzzle and down the bridge of his nose in mimicry of a demented helmet. From the remnants of the queen’s corpse, his will forced the shards together and compacted them until they shone silver. Jagged pieces were polished and transitioned to mimic twin horns on either side of the band, and a third piece slowly emerged according to his will with blood red horns couching a polished silvery jewel.
The newly forged circlet rose above his head and descended slowly. The only witness to his coronation lay within the shadows of his heart. It was an empty and lonely affair. But that didn’t matter to this newly born Pony of darkness. He would not be alone for long. And those who did not accept his rule would learn the consequences of their folly. His voice deepened as he laughed and fired his magic into the crystal above the door to the teleportation circle, lacing it with fear and his own insidious will. The other fools would have either joined his thralls or been consumed by the trap he had laid in the circle’s enchantment. At this point, he didn’t care. What better way to avoid the weakness of love than to destroy one’s own heart? He laughed as the room was cast in darkness, leaving only his glowing eyes and horn as he continued his evil work.
“Long live King Sombra!”
Pensword wasn’t sure how long he’d been unconscious. The first thing he was aware of was the pain. Spasms of electrical signals throbbed with every heartbeat as he hissed in pain. There was no infirmary here, no comfort or friendly faces; only the cold feeling of hard crystal causing his bones to ache from extended exposure to the surface. The creatures that stood guard on either side of him looked more akin to golems than Ponies as the dark crystal that had so deeply ingrained itself into their beings slowly took over their organic halves. Green eyes glowed dully and blankly with no sign of pupil or iris. Sharp polished horns curved from their heads as they waited. The room felt cold and bleak, almost oppressive as the Pegasus peered over his surroundings. Everything seemed tinged by a curious sort of twilight, like he was laying in the midst of a black mist.
For all intents and purposes, Pensword was alone. And yet, he did not feel alone. Something was watching, waiting, and it was hungry, almost impatient in its silent vigil. Was that Sombra? Was the treacherous stallion somehow concealing himself in the room, waiting for Pensword to break? It was too soon to say. He didn’t even know how long he had been unconscious. Still, logic dictated that Sombra couldn’t have won yet. The creature would have lorded the fact over Pensword’s head if he had. No, it couldn’t have been a significant period of time.
A pang of guilt and anxiety stabbed at Pensword’s chest as he came to a second trail of deduction. If Sombra saw fit to try to control him, then that meant the foals wouldn’t have a protector. They could well be in danger; or worse, in that mad Pony’s clutches.
He had to save the foals. But how? Even as he rose, the jingle of chains drew him toward black fetters tied to each hoof. Sombra wasn’t foolish enough to leave things to chance. And that made the Pegasus’ urgency all the more pressing.
Attempts to force his restraints led only to further pain as he became aware of a sticky red substance that had smeared on his coat. The rusty tang of blood hovered in his nostrils, even as he bent his neck in an effort to get a better look at the locks that held him in place. Muzzle met chain, and he began to bash the two restraints together as best he could.
After a few minutes, it was evident how futile the attempt was. Much like his armor, the chains were made of a crystalline substance that was as hard and durable as steel. The muzzle that was his gag refused to budge, and the blows left the front of his muzzle throbbing. Cracking his restraints against the floor yielded no better result and sent more pain through his body as the blade of the dagger vibrated and cut against tense muscle.
Pensword hissed in pain, but waited patiently. There was little more to be done. Sombra would doubtless come eventually. And when he did, Pensword would be waiting for him with wings at the ready. He couldn’t kill, but nothing said he couldn’t maim the traitor. The thought of that was oddly comforting in the drab twilight.
At last, a door came open. But instead of the expected Pony of shadows he had come to know in the present, Pensword was shocked to see Star Swirl the Bearded. The stallion looked within the room, even as he gazed over a small bowl of water that suspended what appeared to be a needle. Strangely enough, the guards didn’t even attempt to act. They remained stalwart as statues as they gazed blankly ahead.
Star Swirl frowned and turned back toward the door. Pensword raised his voice to cry out, but again was thwarted by his gag. Tears welled in his eyes at the sight of the Unicorn disappearing. If Star Swirl couldn’t find him, there was little hope of the others doing so either. He turned his head aside, determined not to let his captors see the tears fall as the door shut behind the elderly stallion. leaving Pensword alone once again with his jailors and his bitterness.
That is, until he wasn’t.
The door burst off its hinges and flew toward the opposing wall as Star Swirl charged into the room. In a matter of moments, the twilight was shattered by piercing white light that blazed indignantly from the Unicorn’s horn. Righteous fury burned in the sorcerer’s eyes as he lashed out with his power. The guards didn’t stand a chance. Whether their controlled state rendered them without will or they simply didn’t have the capacity to act for themselves was uncertain. Regardless, there was no chance for a counterattack to be mounted. Both guards smoked as they lay lifelessly on the ground.
Pensword stared at the sight, even as Star Swirl came to dispel the magic that had been used to craft the Pegasus’ restraints. Lastly, he glared distastefully at the knife. “This is going to hurt,” he warned, then yanked the dagger out with his magic. Pensword yelled and exulted in the fact that he could actually speak again, even if it was in the form of an expression of pain. Heat still burned at the site of the attack, but the work of the elderly stallion was that of an old hand. Blood staunched. Muscle and sinew knit together. And finally, hide covered the wound, leaving a scar beneath Pensword’s dark fur coat as Star Swirl got to work.
“Come, Pensword. Hurry!” Star Swirl urged. “There’s not a moment to lose!”
“Star Swirl, what…?”
“There’s no time for questions. Get a move on, colt!” he ordered. “Or do you want your villain to reach the foals first?”
That gave Pensword the strength he needed and the urgency to take to his hooves. “Let’s go,” he said grimly.
Star Swirl nodded as they ran. “I think it’s nearly time for us to put our plan into motion.”
Grif had been out for a few hours now, knocking on doors and discreetly sending messages as he tried to stay as low key as possible. If all went as planned, he was to be the last to arrive at the room, though there was a worrying development in that more than a third of those loyal to the queen had been … compromised. He’d managed to get those he could, but he’d had to kill three more corrupted Ponies in the process. He knocked carefully on the door to the room as he triple-checked he wasn’t being tailed.
“Who is it?” Hammer Strike asked.
“Attila,” Grif said quietly.
He could hear Hammer Strike sigh as he opened the door. “All right.”
Grif opened the door and came through looking at the assembled faces. “That's … everyone.” He looked at hamer strike.
“Great.” Hammer Strike frowned before turning to the soldiers behind him. “All right. To those gathered, I have something of utmost importance to alert you all to.” He turned fully in their direction. “I have gone through and selected your group alongside Star Swirl for something approaching, and as of this moment, things have already begun.”
“Begging your pardon, Lord Hammer Strike, but … what exactly is this thing that’s approaching? Is it supposed to be some sort of threat?”
“Dark magic. In particular, an individual calling upon it. Normally, Star Swirl would have been able to prepare for such things. This time, however, it happened quite suddenly. As of this moment, I can confirm that a number of your allies have been converted to this enemy’s side without you even knowing it.”
A low murmur of disbelief began to carry through the room as Hammer Strike strode casually toward the entrance to the bathroom. That soon turned to gasps, however, when he pulled open the door.
“The reason I can confirm this is that if you look at the three corpses in the bathroom, you can see the solidified dark magic in the form of dark crystals overtaking parts of their bodies. This is how their wills have been supplanted and how our enemy is able to control them like puppets.”
Some guards retched. Others looked to the Earth Pony with grave expressions.
“The queen must be warned. If the crystal heart’s power can be invoked, then we can stop this threat before it gets too far,” one of the more seasoned of the guards said.
“Given we were already attacked as it is, they’ve clearly started their plans. At this point, it’s all but certain that our mastermind is Ambrosia.” Hammer Strike looked to the guard before him. “He wouldn’t have waited, and there is barely any chance of her being alive as of this moment.”
“The queen wouldn’t fall so easily,” one guard objected vehemently.
“Allow me to repeat myself. Ambrosia, a close family member and advisor, who has the capability of having a private conversation with her, is the one calling upon said dark magic.” Hammer Strike looked flatly to the guard in question. “Do you understand what I am telling you now?”
“Very likely, the queen is dead,” Grif said bluntly.
“If she was alive, Star Swirl would have been able to notify her of said possessed guards, and she would have already used that crystal heart to stop this.” Hammer Strike sighed. “You’re not getting saved by that heart. Some number of the guard have been turned, based off the fact that not everyone is here that were selected. And we have civilians all around us in this city that need protection. We lost the time to figure this all out. All we can do now is act upon the cards we’ve been dealt.”
“We are a very small number, Lord Hammer Strike. We will perform our duty, but if what you say is true, then there isn’t much we’ll be able to do against the rest of our fellow guardponies.”
“That’s why we’ve been preparing. Between myself and Star Swirl, we picked each of you for your skills and talents. If we cannot follow the system of the Crystal Empire, then we shall take its place and secure as much as we can. We shall find as many of your friends and allies as we can and push back against this growing force. I will not allow this place to fall to the hooves of Ambrosia.”
“And what of the people?”
“Thankfully, his corruption is only reaching the guard at this moment, meaning we can gather who we can and make a move on securing civilians. With our numbers as they are now, if we attempted to secure civilians now, while we could manage that, we would allow him to gather more forces against us. While I dislike this plan, it’s our best bet against him. We don’t have long before he takes over as many members of the guard as he can, after which he may move to civilians. We need to act as soon as possible.”
“An overt attack would be playing into his hands, then,” Critical Flaw mused. “Is there a way to tell those who are under his influence apart from those who are free?”
“Dark crystals are an obvious one, and a lack of free will. They won’t acknowledge you as a normal Pony would.”
“Is it possible for them to fake being normal?”
“I don’t think Ambrosia cares for the act. Once word gets out, there’s no point in trying to hide it.” Hammer Strike frowned. “His form of control has to be some form of suppressing free will. It’s the only thing that makes sense from what we’ve seen so far.”
Critical Flaw took a deep breath. “I hate to say it, but the question has to be asked. Do we need to kill them?”
“You can attempt to incapacitate them, but until Star Swirl can tell us otherwise, there may not be a way to save them within our reach.” Hammer Strike sighed. “I’m sorry, but that’s all I can give you for the time being. They will go for the kill, no matter what.”
“Then we will have to fight with equal ferocity. Do we know if any of the nobles were able to escape the palace?”
“Pensword and Star Swirl are currently working to secure the queen’s children as a priority, especially since Cadance is the heir to the empire. The crystal heart may respond to her, which makes her a target.”
“Not gonna lie.” Grif looked around. “This is going to be a shit show, but each of you swore an oath to the people of this empire, and it’s time to make good on those oaths.”
“Then we’ll do what we can,” one of the warriors said grimly. “Where do we rendezvous?”
“Near the mining yard. We’ll cover the location more when we get there,” Hammer Strike noted.
There wasn’t much more to be said. “Good luck, everyone,” one of the guards said, even as he strode out.
Critical Flaw trailed behind, his face contorted into a frown of concentration. “How did he do it?” he murmured.
Pensword raced as fast as his legs could carry him. His chest burned and heaved as his heart sucked the oxygen from his lungs faster than he could take it in. The clatter of his hooves over the floor of the hallway and his grim expression left more than a few guards jumping in surprise at his passing. One great, “Move!” was all it took for them to jump aside. And for those who wouldn’t, Star Swirl would stun them with his horn. Apologies could be given later. Lives were on the line.
“I’m only going to slow you down. You should fly to them,” Star Swirl puffed as they rounded yet another corner.
At this point, living up to the identity was moot. “I can’t,” Pensword returned. “I don’t know how.”
“What kind of idiot would make a land dweller into a flyer?”
“You got a problem with it, take it up with magic!” Pensword barked. “Now tell me which way!”
There were four guards standing outside the foals’ quarters. On the sight of the glowing horn and spread wings of the oncoming protectors, they turned resolutely and formed a wall in front of the door as they drew their swords with the chime of ringing crystal. Their eyes glowed that same blank green as their manes and tails turned an ugly black and their horseshoes seeped into the floor of the palace like roots. Their armor buckled as their bodies pulsed and their coats began to harden and thicken.
“Strike now, Pensword, while they’re still vulnerable!” Star Swirl cried. A black book hovered at his side as his eyes glowed a solid white. “Where light stampedes, the dark recedes!” A spectral white charger twice the stallion’s size and mass projected from his horn to sweep over the guards. The black crystal tying them to the palace shattered as they stumbled back. “Now!” he cried.
It was one thing to take the life of a Changeling. It was another to have to strike at a creature he would have called friend. It was not a task he relished, but it was one Pensword knew had to be done for the foals’ sakes. If Sombra made his move, then there was no one to activate the crystal heart anymore. At least, not as they currently were. And the elements of harmony, if they even existed at this point in time, were miles away in Equestria. Their influence would be of no help. He knew he shouldn’t, but he couldn’t help but close his eyes as he cut his sword over the first guard’s throat. A heavy blow to his hoof knocked the sword out of his grip and sent it skittering to the floor. This time, when Pensword opened his eyes, he beheld the gaze of a monster in the making. Flat teeth lengthened and sharpened as shadow wafted in miasma from the creature’s eyes, and strong hooves pushed inch by inch as he grappled with the foe, leading closer and closer toward his throat.
His wings flapped and flailed as he tried to use a burst of air to his advantage. The stallion held fast, however. And as the hooves reached the point where they could slide off of Pensword’s own and crush his throat, the act was done. A swift strike from both wings brushing on either side of the throat, then yanking sharply back.
Blood spurted as the flesh around the base of the neck yielded to the multitude of blades, each cutting a little deeper with their passing. The guard stared implaccably and uncomprehendingly as the blood drained. Its hooves fumbled as they struggled to squeeze Pensword’s throat, then dropped. The hindquarters followed, buckling as blood seeped all the faster with the assistance of gravity.
Pensword couldn’t help but stare. The ichor of Changelings was a different matter, more like the guts from an insect. This was not ichor. This was blood. And it had come from a sapient being that he had killed by his own hand. Or in this case, wings. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been staring before a set of hooves shook him. Instinct lashed out with reflexes, and his wing blades struck against something with a metallic scrape that ended with a high-pitched ringing.
Star Swirl the Bearded looked on the Pegasus, a grim expression on his face. The nimbus of his forcefield glowed over his body as he took in the stallion. “Focus on the foals, Pensword. Their safety is paramount. Do you understand?”
Pensword’s eyes wandered to the piles of ash and cracked crystal that were the remains of the other two guards. His gaze was yanked back to Star Swirl’s icy gaze.
“You are their protector, colt. And by Sleipnir’s beard, you’re going to do just that. There are children in danger. Snap out of it and get to work!”
Playful laughter. Gentle smiles. The pensive faces of those seeking to understand the future in terms that they were far from ready to comprehend. Pure, innocent, and kind. Another young face rose at those thoughts, a familiar little girl who he loved to spoil rotten. Would he hesitate if it were her?
Screams. Struggle. Just as when he had struck at Star Swirl, his body moved without thinking. The door crashed open under his assault. More blood greeted him. Two guards lay before a familiar pink Pegasus whose fur was a little too dark a shade in some places. A sword was buried in one of the corpse’s chests. The third one had its sword drawn, and was about to strike at a trembling blue colt who pushed a smaller yellow filly behind him as tears spilled down his cheeks.
Alto wailed as the blade hovered at its zenith. “Cosy!”
“NO!” Pensword roared. In an instant, he was there. Cracks spread from the wall where he’d pinned the guard. His wings flared as he used all his mass to hold the stallion at bay. There was no other weapon at hand. The moment he stopped beating his wings, he would be thrust back. He knew it. His weapon lay in the hallway, and the guard’s sword lay back where his momentum had forced it from the would-be-assassin’s hoof.
An old comic book came to mind, a secret service agent tasked with protecting the government from terrorists, forced to face her own mentor to protect the peace. The strongest muscle….
Pensword didn’t stop to think. He knew that if he did, he’d lose the nerve. He opened his mouth and snapped it closed over the guard’s exposed throat.
Pensword’s teeth were not those of an omnivore, nor were they those of a predator. They were herbivorous, as was to be expected of a Pony. As such, they weren’t designed to rip and tear. They were designed to crush. And crush, they did. There was a sickeningly audible crunch that sounded through his ears as he felt the stallion’s windpipe collapse under the pressure.
He thrust himself away from the guard as it dropped to the floor. Even unable to breathe, it still posed a threat until the air in its lungs depleted. Had he really gone so far as to consider these victims as less than people? A set of magical chains soon resolved the former issue as Star Swirl conjured the restraints and fashioned them out of light to bind the guard in place.
Shame burned hot in Pensword’s chest and stomach as a bitter taste lingered in his mouth. “Is everyone all right?”
Cadance shook like a leaf as she clung to herself. Her wings latched tightly around her like a security blanket. Her teeth chattered, and her eyes were wide as her pupils expanded. Her gaze was still riveted on the sword embedded into what had once been one of their guards, and the blood that had flowed from that fatal wound.
Pensword did his best to wipe the blood from his fur, then crouched in front of the mare, cutting off her view of the corpse. “Cadance?” he asked gently as he ran a hoof through her mane, then stroked her feathers. “Cadance, can you hear me? It’s going to be all right. You’re safe now.”
“Cady?” Yong Bellacosa strode up to the filly and placed a hoof on her cheek. “Sis?”
Alto wedged her way past the pair and shoved herself into the mare’s other side. Tears welled in Cadance’s eyes, and then the mare finally broke. It came in sobs at first. Then the water flowed hard and fast as the pink princess wailed out her terror. The touching moment was broken up, however, by a beam of light that burst into sparkles over the filly. Cadance’s eyes grew heavy as her sobs weakened, and she flopped onto the floor, asleep.
“What did you do that for?” Pensword snapped.
“As I said before, Pensword, time is of the essence. You can scold me after you get those foals out of the empire and safely into the princesses’ hooves.” He levitated Cadance onto Pensword’s back, then pulled the sword from the guard’s chest. He looked pointedly toward Cosy. “Is this your blade, colt?”
Cosy nodded slowly. “Mother had it sent to our room. She said it was an early present, since I was growing up so fast.”
“Does it come with armor?”
Cosy nodded slowly.
“Then I suggest you get it, child, and put it on. Your sisters need protecting. And while we will do our best to get you away from here, you still need to be ready for the worst. Can we trust you to do what needs to be done?”
Cosy nodded. “I won’t let anypony hurt my sisters.”
“Good lad.” He watched the foal bolt for a closet. When Cosy pulled it open, a mannequin was waiting for him, bearing a complete set of armor custom made for the young colt. Instead of the usual purple that all other crystal guards seemed to wear, this one was blue with hints of gold. There was no sign of a helmet, and there was no time to search for one as the colt hastily donned the pieces one at a time. At last, Cosy sped back to the pair and nodded grimly.
“Just a minute,” he said. His horn sparked, and a small teddy bear levitated over to Alto, who held it tightly before wrapping its arms around her neck. When the deed was done, Cosy nodded firmly. “Let’s go,” he said, doing his best to put on a brave face, even as he avoided looking at the bodies that lay on the floor.
“Indeed,” Star Swirl agreed.
And so the trio became a quintet, and they began their hasty departure.
Hammer Strike sighed as he peered through the exit of the cave once more. “There’s more converted than I had anticipated,” he remarked quietly. Once he was certain they weren’t followed, he made his way into the mines proper.
Grif looked on at the gathered ponies. They had the guards they had recruited. But aside from them, there was only a mess of scared ponies a hair's breadth away from full on hysteria. They had managed to secure some basic supplies. Food, medical reagents, and a handful of weapons.
In a few words, things were not good at all.
“What do we do?” someone asked in the crowd as ponies looked around for something, anything to give them hope that their life wasn’t crumbling around them.
“What do you do?” Grif asked. When his voice was swallowed by the crowd, he took a deep breath and bellowed out what he’d said. The noise stopped as ponies turned to him. A few small murmurs amongst the crowd was all he heard as he looked them over.
“What do you do? This is the question you choose to ask right now? What do you do?” he looked around.
“Well what do we do?” someone asked.
Grif glared into the crowd. “What do you do? Sombra has murdered your queen, taken your homes and loved ones, and destroyed your way of life; and you ask what you do? What does anyone do to defend themselves? You fight!”
“Fight? But he has soldiers. He’s even taken control of the noble houses!” someone threw back. “We’d be killed.”
“So it’s better to be enslaved?” Grif asked. “Because that's what will happen, you know. It’s happening now to others. Life under the whip and the lash, bound forcibly to the goals of someone else! You cannot simply ask them to stop. You cannot expect that this usurper, this foe, this Sombra will step back just because you point out the injustice in his plan. You want to reclaim what's yours? Then fight. Stand for yourself and declare to him brazenly, ‘No More!’” Grif unsheathed one of his swords and held it aloft.
“Are you seriously suggesting we fight him head on?” someone in the crowd asked.
“Not every battle needs to be fought on a battlefield. And not every war is won in the public eye.” The sword waved across the room as he passed it over the heads of his audience. “You all know me. I fought for Equestria behind enemy lines during the Third Gryphon War. We Gryphons have a word for such tactics: Guerilla. I can teach these same tactics to you. Fight with me, and we will free this land together. Stand beside me and we will tell the tyrant that he won’t go unanswered. Fight with me!” Grif looked around the crowd. “So that no Crystal Pony need fear a life of slavery.” His eyes flashed with resolve as the intensity of his gaze increased. “Death is easy, and freedom is costly. I’d pay that price myself, but I cannot do it alone. And so I call you now, as I called creatures of every race and kindred in a time when our worlds were on the brink of absolute upheaval. Fight with me! For the love of your nation, the love of your people, and the love of your queen. She dedicated her whole life for you. Now is the time to follow that example. As Blood Diamond once told me and my lord Hammer Strike, love has many forms. The time for peaceful and gentle love is past. Now is the time for the love born of a hardened resolve that spurns action. Let me teach you to harness that love for more than channeling into an artifact, so that this evil will never be perpetrated upon your soil again!”
The cavern was silent for a time as the Gryphon’s strident voice bounded off the walls, ringing through the crystals with its rallying cry before fading into the depths beyond. Most of the Ponies averted their gaze. The guards watched grimly as they waited. Finally, one Crystal Pony moved forward hesitantly. “Do you really think we stand a chance?” he asked hoarsely.
“Yes,” Grif said firmly. “I think we stand a very good chance.”
“I can figure out their weak points and help with techniques for combating them,” Hammer Strike spoke up as he arrived at the hideout.
“And we will provide the experience and the training to temper what Sir Grif teaches with wisdom and sound strategy to disrupt the usurper’s chain of command,” one of the officers said. “This villain will be punished for his crimes. That is our oath, and we will uphold it to our last breath.”
“Keep that fire burning.” Hammer Strike looked over those gathered. “Determination will keep your momentum.”
“And hope will strengthen the blaze.” From the shadows beyond the entrance, Star Swirl approached. “While I take no particular enjoyment in games, I will say this much to ease your minds, Hammer Strike, Grif.” He cleared his throat. “Attila sent me.”
Hammer Strike nodded. “Status of Pensword and the children?”
“So far as I am aware, safely departed. As I’ve said before, our enemy is not the only one who is well versed in spellcraft. The bloodline is safe. Now it is our duty to ensure that they have a home to return to when reinforcements arrive. With our combined talents and Grif’s unconventional tactics, I am confident that we will succeed.”
“All right.” Hammer Strike hummed in thought. “Then we have some work to do. I’ll see to figuring out what materials this mine can provide.”
Forging a path through the frigid winter tundra is a difficult task, even in the best of weather conditions. Pensword and the foals were not so lucky. As a Pegasus, the stallion was built for cold weather conditions due to the higher altitudes in which his species would have to fly, as was Cadance. But the same could not be said for Cosy and Alto, both of whom were currently busy shivering on the two older ponies’ backs. The one guiding light the party had to follow was the projection Star Swirl had embedded into Pensword’s helmet, and Pensword followed the orientation of his holographic compass dutifully.
Cadance had recovered enough of her wits to walk again, though she didn’t speak much, and her face was still downcast.
“Did you want to talk about it?” Pensword called over the winds.
Cadance shook her head vigorously. “I don’t even want to think about it!” she called back.
Pensword sighed. “Easier said than done, Princess,” he said softly to himself. Even as he raised one wing to try to give Cosy some cover, he drew closer to Cadance and draped his other wing over the pink mare’s back to give a layer of protection against the brutality of the tundra.
Cadance didn’t open up. But she did lean closer into the stallion’s body as they waded on.
“How much longer?” Alto sniffled and whimpered as she wiped at the icicles that were forming by her nostrils. Her soft form trembled as her teeth chattered.
“We still have a way to go yet,” Pensword reported grimly. “We can’t risk a teleportation, even if the two of you had enough power to do it. And flight is out of the question for me. At most, Cadance can only carry one of you. Even then, I don’t know if she’d be able to fly at the same time.”
“I’m tired, Pensword,” Cosy said.
“Then you need to get down,” Pensword said.
“Again?”
“The cold has a way of seeping into the blood at these temperatures, Cosy. Even Crystal Ponies need to be careful. If you fall asleep in the tundra, you stay asleep. We can’t let that happen.” He sighed and shook his head. “I know you want to rest. And we will. I promise. But we have to reach the shelter first. Then we can enjoy some proper warmth and a bed for you all to sleep on.” He reached behind him and nosed the colt gently.
“Promise?” Cosy asked through watery eyes and creaking voice.
“I promise,” Pensword assured. “We made it through the gate, after all. We’ll make it through this stretch of our adventure, too. Think of it like a quest, just like a knight. A special mission just for us.”
“What if we can’t make it?” Cosy asked. His voice quavered, whether out of fear or the cold could not be known.
“We focus on what we can do until we make it.”
The snow crunched under their hooves as they struck out following the trail Pensword broke for them.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean if you can’t make it to the finish line, make it just one more step. One by one, trot by trot, piece by piece. Every inch you gain is a victory. Every movement, a choice that draws you one step closer to your goal on the battlefield. We can’t change everything, but we can do our best. We can make an effort and keep trying. That is what will ultimately decide whether you win or lose. Will you follow through or freeze? I choose to follow through and keep carrying on.”
“Even when it hurts?” Cosy asked.
“Especially when it hurts, Cosy. Especially when it hurts. That’s when it’s most important. It helps to think of what keeps you moving. For me, it’s the people I love. The ones who are with me, the ones I’ve had to leave behind, and the ones I may never see again. I think of them, and I can almost hear them urging me to keep moving forward.” He shoved bodily through a particularly large drift and grunted as the brisk chill seeped into the metal of his armor. “And that’s exactly what I intend to do.” He leaned down and took some bites from the fresh snow to wet his mouth. “No more talking for now. We need to conserve our strength. I’ll let you know when we get there. And I promise you, all of you. We will get there.”
“I hope so,” Cadance whispered softly.
There wasn’t anything more to be said after that. They pushed on, ever looking for that motivation to take that one step closer.
And so they advanced.
Hammer Strike frowned as he scanned over the materials he was able to gather deeper within the mine. It was a mixture of resources, and it left him wondering why the mine was left if it was still this rich in deposits. He would, however, need to locate tools if he wanted to perform maintenance on their equipment, meaning they would have to find something, most likely within the castle.
“How are we looking?” Grif asked as he approached.
“We’ve got materials. Plenty, in fact. The only issue now is tools. I can probably make a forge down here, albeit nothing in comparison to the ones I used for our equipment, but it would be a starting ground for maintenance.” Hammer Strike sighed. “Beyond that, we’ve got other issues to deal with.”
“Yeah, like how we’re going to lead a rebellion.” Grif sighed. “Why the hell did I open my mouth?”
“We knew this was coming, so it was only a matter of time.” He turned his attention to Grif. “Right now, Pensword is out, and should be making contact with Equestria, meaning we’ve got to do what we can in here to help, however possible. One issue we’ve got is the walls.”
“Well, I mean, they don’t exist in the present from what we saw,” Grif noted.
“Which leads to the question of what brought them down.” Hammer Strike turned back towards his resources. “I mean, we may be able to assist the Equestrian forces by perhaps taking down one wall, but that will take some time to prepare. I’ve found the substances we would need to make an explosive powder, but it would only be potent enough for that if we both get a cart's worth and find the right point in the wall to use the payload on.”
“I mean, we could launch attacks in areas far enough away to keep their attention away from the team setting the explosives.”
“We’ll also need to divert some of our numbers to collecting this stuff.”
“I think we’ll need to split our entire group into four.”
“Maybe. Though we have to worry about spreading our numbers thin.”
“Well, we can mitigate that by putting people we can’t use in combat into the support roles.”
“Of course, but that’ll mainly be when we secure more civilians. Right now, we’ve got a number of the guard.” He frowned. “I’ll figure it out. Just give me some time to think over how each of them work.”
“Just be careful. They’ll start panicking again if we wait too long.”
“No, they won’t,” Star Swirl said as he entered the small cave that had become the temporary war room. “They trust in your leadership, and my counsel still holds weight, however diminished it may be. So long as we are able to implement a proper plan, we will find success. The primary order, aside from securing a steady supply of food and water, is to begin training our forces.”
“Thankfully, they have the basics down,” Hammer Strike replied with a shrug. “Food and water will definitely take some effort, but we should be capable of getting a steady supply. Beyond that, is as you mentioned, the plan.” He rubbed at his forehead. “I’ve got the layout of the city down, and with that, we might be able to figure out the concentration of troops and locations of value to work around, but I need more information to work on to make a concrete plan.”
“I should be able to help there with charms and illusion magic, but we’ll still need someone skilled in stealth to be an effective means of gathering that information,” Star Swirl said as he looked to Grif. “As I recall, that was supposed to be your area of expertise. Or at least your namesake’s.”
“I’ll work it out,” Grif said. “I have some ideas.”
“I’ll offer any contingencies I can, should you need something to offer a distraction for a getaway,” Star Swirl promised.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Grif said. “The problem here is more that guerilla warfare isn’t sustainable by any means.”
“You have a fair point,” Star Swirl mused. “I’ve seen enough of the technology the Crystal Ponies developed to know that they could eventually create a device that would allow them to see through any illusions or means we might come up with for concealment. But if what you have said is true, then we don’t need the tactics to last long. We just have to hold out long enough for reinforcements to arrive.”
“How long will it take Equestria to mobilize?”
“That depends on the princesses. As you know, Luna is the more warlike of the sisters. She will likely have her forces prepared sooner. But given the time since the war ended, it is likely that both have their forces relatively prepared to mobilize. The journey to the empire itself, however, will certainly take time without a proper means of conveyance. Flyers will reach here sooner, but the ground forces will take two weeks at the very least, possibly longer.”
“Okay,” Grif said, nodding. “We’re going to have to be careful with this. Planning’s going to be our only advantage here.”
“Particularly given the nature of our foe. In a cavern beneath the earth, darkness is a natural element. And wardings would only serve to give our enemy a marker to seek us out unless they were distributed across the whole cave system.”
“The mines here are surprisingly vast, so you may be able to manage that,” Hammer Strike spoke up from his thoughts. “There’s more space down here than we initially anticipated.”
“If I do this, it will need to be done over time and in random locations first. Otherwise, our enemy may be able to pick out our location,” Star Swirl replied.
“If you can manage that, it would aid in keeping ourselves hidden.”
“It will take time, but I’ll do what I can. In the meantime, taking action to hide our base naturally would be a safe choice. You are a genius crafter. I don’t doubt that you will be able to devise a means to conceal any entrances and exits we use.”
“My legend dictates I’m a genius crafter.” Hammer Strike frowned. “Sure, I’ve got some methods in my head I could use, but I don’t think I quite match up to … myself.” He gestured to his body.
“One cannot know until one tries. And for now, trying is all we can do.”
“I’ll … see what I can think of. Using some blockades, I may be able to replicate the abandoned designs around, or, depending on what we can find in the cave, I may be able to create a false cave near the entrance.”
“I’m going to give it two days, and then I'm going to head out and scout around, see if I can understand the potential layout,” Grif noted.
“And work to train our resistance fighters in the meantime, I assume?” Star Swirl asked.
“Before I can train them, I need information,” Grif said. “Information I’ll need to get myself.”
“I’m sure you’ll get it in time. For now, we’ve got work we can do until then.” Hammer Strike frowned. “If there’s nothing else, I’ll need to go about figuring out our cover and equipment.”
“And I’ll see to recruiting Unicorns for spellcrafting, assuming we have any competent magic users in our ranks,” Star Swirl said. “Until we meet again, gentlecolts. Good luck.”
“And godspeed.” Grif nodded.
The wind was frigid, and the spatter of snowflakes dug like tiny daggers seeking whatever sensitive pieces of anatomy they could find. And just like sand, they knew how to whip into all the places that can’t easily be reached. By now, the march had turned into an almost desperate dragging. The only guide they had was the light that emanated from Pensword’s helmet as Star Swirl’s projection pointed them ever onward. The whiteout mixed with dusk as the temperature continued to drop, making their situation all the more dangerous.
To conserve warmth, Pensword and Cadance each took breaks to wrap their wings around the other two foals and share what they could. This was not the playful fields for a snowball fight, where mighty forts could be raised and fall in time for a warm cup of cocoa or cider by the fire. This was a far more dangerous battle, and this party was playing for keeps.
There was no talking now. They hadn’t the energy for it. And even if they did, it would simply give the biting cold another opening to sink into their bodies and leech away the warmth that was their life. On more than one occasion, the two younger foals bit their lips and struggled not to cry in the face of their adversity. They all knew the alternatives to their situation, and that was perhaps the most horrifying part of the experience. That, and the ever-growing temptation to let those memories freeze in the cold. After all, the hurtful scenes can’t play over if they’re trapped in ice. And they would find rest at last in the snow’s comforting embrace.
So deeply engaged in this battle of wills was he that Pensword didn’t even recognize the cliff face. Or perhaps it would be better to say that it was too obscured by the lashing white and the encroaching darkness. True to form, Celestia’s sun had dropped to the horizon, with only the barest embers to guide their way through.
Pensword was so tired that he hardly even felt the pain of the impact as metal clanked against stone. Cadance could barely raise her head as she turned to look at Pensword.
“Did we … make it?”
The projection pulsed brightly over the rock face, catching the ice crystals that had formed a thin layer over the surface.
“I … think so,” Pensword said. His voice dragged with a curious blend of exhaustion, relief, and disbelief. “We just … need to find the entrance.” He mustered the strength to flash an encouraging smile toward the mare. “It should respond to you as a member of the royal family.”
“And then we can rest?” Cosy asked.
“And warm ourselves while we call for help,” Pensword acknowledged.
Hope is an infectious thing, and the assurance of the end to their struggle soon brought that warmth to each of their faces. It didn’t take long to find the escape hatch, though hatch was a loose term. It was more akin to a portal, and its surface yielded to Cadance’s touch, granting entry into a crystal corridor lined with jutting surfaces polished to a reflective sheen so that one couldn’t tell where the ice ended and the crystals began. Their hoofsteps echoed through the corridor as they trekked down a subtle decline toward a heavy metal door with a crystal eye that scanned them with a broad ray of light.
“Identified: Three crystalline equines, one non-crystalline Pegasus. Please identify yourselves.”
“Uh, … hi. I’m Cosy?” the little blue Unicorn said.
“There is no ‘Cosy’ in my database. Access denied.”
“I think it needs your real names,” Pensword said, even as spots swam before his eyes.
Cadance sighed. “I guess I’ll go first.” She looked up at the eye. “I am Princess Mi Amore Cadenza.”
“Processing. Processing. Processing.” A small chime sounded. “Voice print verification confirmed. Mi Amore Cadenza, heir apparent. Welcome, Princess.”
“We’re really cold and tired. Can I just bring my brother, sister, and Pensword inside? You can trust them.”
The eye flickered. “Processing.... Processing….” It dinged. “Command received. Parameters updated. Welcome, Crown Princess and guests.” A loud hiss of air carried through the chamber as a vacuum seal broke, followed by the shifting of a portion of the crystal wall to reveal the interior of a wardrobe. One step through the coats and a weak shove led them into a spacious bed chamber laden with enough beds to house a small garrison. A great master bed shaped like a heart sat luxuriantly in the space to their right.
“Beds!” Cosy cheered.
Pensword smiled weakly. “Yes. Beds.”
Warmth seeped from the floor into their horseshoes and hooves, and light pulsed gently from crystalline fixtures.
“At the queen’s order, this safehouse has been activated for use by the royal family and court under the Scattered Winds Protocol. Please, make use of the amenities as much as you need. When you are properly rested, I will guide you through the process of contacting the Equestrian Diarchy, Your Highness.”
“Um, … Thank you, … what do I call you?”
“Though my programming is overseen by a higher ranked code, you may call this program CAPS. It stands for Crown Automatic Protection System. Your safety and preservation are my number one priority. To that end, please disrobe and take to bed. Your scans indicate various stages of hypothermia.
Pensword nodded gravely as he spoke into the air. “Thank you, CAPS. I’ll see the children get to bed.”
“You are their guard?”
“An ally from Equestria. I am called Pensword.”
“Acknowledged. Pensword, please place the foals in the royal bed. My analysis of their past behaviors indicate that they sleep better when together, and their combined body heat will hasten their recovery.”
Pensword hastened to follow the voice’s instruction. However, when he finally turned to take one of the other beds, he found himself caught in the magical grasp of two young Unicorns and the physical grasp of one Pegasus mare.
“Stay with us. Please?” Cadance asked.
Three pairs of adorable and vulnerable eyes fixed him with the devastating effect of their full power unleashed. And like any sensible adult whose senses and resistance had been worn down by hardship and trial, he took the path of least resistance.
“Very well.”
The bed was soft, and the mattress seemed almost to conform to his body as he settled in, the three foals holding tightly to his frame as he wrapped his wings around them and pulled the covers up tight.
“Good night, children,” he said softly and nuzzled each of them gently. “You did it.”
“We did it,” Cadance murmured sleepily.
Pensword smiled as he watched those tired eyes close and heard the deep breaths of those who sleep has taken firmly in its grasp. “Yes, we did,” he agreed. “Yes, we did.” For now, their mission had been accomplished. The foals were safe, and he would need his wits about him to speak with whoever he contacted in Equestria. But that could wait until tomorrow. For now, it was time to sleep. He willingly let the darkness encroach, safe in the comfort the warmth and softness provided.
Morning, or what Pensword assumed to be morning, greeted them much the same as the night had. Gentle light pulsed from the crystal sconces as the Pegasus stared at the ceiling. At first, he didn’t know where he was. It felt more like a dream than reality. But then the full weight of the situation came crashing down on him. The empire, the time travel, the betrayal. His heart pounded in his chest as he looked frantically over the bed to count the foals like a mother hen would her chicks. Only when he had confirmed all three foals were still safe and sound did he breathe a sigh of relief.
A few moments later, he finally registered what had roused him from his slumber as the scent of rich broth wafted into his now-flaring nostrils. Soup. Honest to goodness soup. The comforter, bane to cold and bad moods alike.
“Greetings, Ally Pensword. I deduced that along with the need for warmth, you and the foals also require hydration and nourishment. As such, I took the liberty of preparing a vegetable soup for your consumption.”
Cosy grumbled and groaned as the other foals began to stir with him. However, growling stomachs soon overcame any disgruntlement over being pulled from sleep, and the foals ate heartily. While the rigors of their recent ordeals had not entirety left them, the joy at their survival helped to buoy their spirits. And with that boost came the motivation to contact the princesses. With that in mind, they each donned their respective garbs in preparation for the event.
“I strongly advise you to allow Ally Pensword to utilize the communication crystal,” CAPS said. “As an ally of Equestria, the princesses are more likely to listen to what he has to say, particularly considering where you will be calling from. I would also recommend attempting to reach Princess Luna. Records indicate that she is more combat oriented and will likely be better prepared to mobilize for the empire’s sake.”
“Is that really the right thing to do?” Cadance asked.
“My calculations indicate it will have the highest chance of success.”
Cadance sighed. “All right.”
“You just wanna talk to Princess Luna yourself,” Cosy accused playfully.
“Nuh-uh!” Cadance blushed.
“Don’t you, too, Cosy?” Alto asked.
“Of course.” Cosy grinned. “Mother said Princess Luna was going to teach me how to use my sword.” Then the smile faltered as the memory of his actions the previous day slammed him in the face.
“Let’s take things one step at a time, hmm?” Pensword suggested as he patted Cosy gently on the head. “Where is this crystal communication system, and how do I access it?” he asked.
“Deploying communications array now.” A pillar grew from the floor in the hall until it became a proper pedestal. From that pedestal, a clear crystal sphere took shape. It pulsed gently at first, then projected a light over the room. “Ally Pensword, please approach the console and request the contact you wish to make. The crystal will react and seek out the holder you wish to call, provided they have a sister crystal connected to the network.”
Pensword did as he was bidden and laid a hoof tentatively on the pillar. “Uh, … call Princess Luna?”
The crystal sphere pulsed blue as silver light glowed gently around it. The air overhead became a sea of stars to replace the artificial ceiling, and a rapidly shifting moon appeared overhead, transitioning through all its phases in a timed cycle while the magic worked to reach out.
“Yes? Is this contraption working? Hello?” Luna's voice came through, followed shortly by the shape of her head clearly shown above in the faux night sky.
“Princess.” Pensword sighed with relief. “Thank goodness we made it through.”
There was a silence after Pensword spoke. “That voice…. Is that you, Commander Pensword?”
Commander? Now that was something he hadn’t expected to hear. It was one thing to look like the heroes. It was another to be mistaken for one by voice. Pensword shook his head quickly. Another problem for another time. “I don’t know about Commander, but I am Pensword, and we don’t have time for questions. Princess Luna, we’re, … I’m sorry to be the messenger, but Blood Diamond couldn’t be here in person to say it herself. She … she placed her children in my care. The Scattered Wind Protocol has been activated. The empire has been overrun by a hostile force. The Crystal Ponies need Equestria’s help.”
Pensword was surprised to see Luna wince. It was as though she had suddenly taken a great blow. It lasted only for a few moments before she forced herself into a more neutral expression. “I … I see. You’ve done well, as always, my friend. What can you tell me personally about the situation?”
“An entity who calls himself King Sombra has taken control by force through use of dark arts with a heavy emphasis on corruption and enslavement. I would still have remained in his clutches, were it not for the swift and decisive action on the part of Star Swirl the Bearded. So far as I am aware, Hammer Strike and Grif are still alive, though I doubt they remain in the empire proper. It’s likely they’ve followed our plan to take shelter with as many civilians as possible until reinforcements can arrive.”
“You three never change,” Luna said as she smiled sadly and shook her head. “We already began mobilizing once the flow of magic from the north stopped, but I can’t be sure when we’ll reach you. You need to keep the royal heirs and the civilians safe until then.”
“I’m sure we’ll each do our best, Princess,” Pensword said. “The sooner we can get the foals safely away, the better, though.”
“Hi, Aunt Luna!” Cosy waved wildly in his armor and smiled up at the projection.
“Hello, Bellacosa.” Luna waved back and smiled gently. “I’m glad to see you’re safe.”
“Pensword’s been great! He saved us!”
“I look forward to hearing the tale when we arrive. Listen to Pensword. And should the situation allow, Grif and Hammer Strike. They will keep you safe.”
Cosy nodded. “We promise!”
“Until next time, Princess. May it be when war and blood needn’t interfere,” Pensword said with a sad smile.
“I look forward to the day.” Luna nodded. “Fare well.” And with that said, she winked out of existence. However, while the stars and moon dissipated, the darkness seemed only to grow thicker from the projection.
With the ominous dropping of CAPS’ voice came the sound of detonating crystal as, one by one, the sconces burst into writhing green flames tinged with white and purple. Wherever they licked, veins of dark crystal began to stretch like poisonous roots through the chamber’s walls and toward the floor and ceiling. A wicked and exultant laughter carried through the air.
“Greetings, foolish royals! If you are hearing this message, then you’ve managed to survive. I must congratulate you for your resourcefulness. However, all good things must inevitably come to an end to make room for the better things to come. Doubtless, you already see the fruits of the little gift I left behind for you all. It might kill you. Or it might make you an asset in my new empire. Frankly, I don’t care which. All that matters is that you are no longer a threat to me. DARK, fulfill your program and ensure our guests can’t escape, won’t you?”
“YES, KING SOMBRA. VERBAL COMMAND ACKNOWLEDGED. SYSTEM PROGRAM: DESTROY ALL REMAINING KIN IS FULLY OPERATIONAL. PRIORITY ONE: DENY ALL ROUTES OF ESCAPE.” A massive stalagmite surged from the floor to shatter the wardrobe and block the exit. A heavy crash sounded from beyond their chamber, and the door buckled before breaking open to allow more of those dark tendrils of jutting crystal to creep and grow in wicked razor points.
The foals screamed, and Pensword ran to snatch Alto with his teeth. He quickly flipped her onto his back, then pulled Cadance with him toward the center of the room as Cosy waved his sword uselessly in an attempt at bravado.
“L-l-leave us alone!”
“REQUEST DENIED. YOU HAVE BEEN DESIGNATED ENEMIES OF THE STATE. YOU WILL BE REHABILITATED INTO KING SOMBRA’S LOYAL CITIZENS. NONCOMPLIANCE IS NOT AN OPTION. YOU WILL CONFORM OR YOU WILL BE TERMINATED.”
“Pensword….” Alto clutched tightly to the stallion’s neck, her teddy pressed on the side as she trembled.
“It’s going to be all right, Alto,” Pensword assured. “We won’t die here. And we won’t obey Sombra either.” He raised his wings invitingly, and Cosy and Cadance ran to his side.
“I just wish it all would stop,” Cadance said as tears pattered to the floor.
“P-p-p-primary di-i-rective … protect … and serve … the c-c-crown. E-e-executing command.”
“CAPS?” Cadance asked.
A familiar blue light emanated from the ground surrounding Pensword and the foals, pulsing through the walls in the familiar patterns of circuitry as the energy flowed around the black tendrils, slowing their advance while the remainder of the energy gathered.
“FUTILE. ROGUE PROGRAM CAPS WILL SUBMIT TO QUARANTINE. ROGUE PROGRAM CAPS WILL CEDE TO ADMINISTRATOR CONTROL. OBEY KING SOMBRA.”
“E-e-emergency routing c-c-coooom-plete. C-c-crystal h-h-heart reserves … activated. L-l-long … live … the … queeeennn….”
“INCORRECT: QUEEN BLOOD DIAMOND IS DEAD. THERE IS NO QUEEN. QUARANTINE SUCCESSFUL. TERMINATING ROGUE PROGRAM.”
“M-mother…?” Cadance’s eyes grew wide at the callous dismissal and brutal delivery of the news. She shook her head violently as her voice began to tremble. “No. She can’t be gone.” The black roots began to grow out from the ground in spears to avoid the patches of light on the ground. “She can’t be. Mother said … Mother is love. And she said love never dies.”
“Cady….” Pensword said consolingly.
“She’s not dead. She’s not dead. SHE’S NOT DEAD!”
“WARNING: ROYAL MAGICAL SIGNATURE DETECTED. THREAT LEVEL: DIAMOND. TERMINATE WITH EXTREME PREJUDICE.”
Three things happened simultaneously. The black crystals launched in a hail of deadly projectiles. A great flood of bright blue light surged from their place of protection as Cadance’s eyes glowed white, and a groaning whirring whine faded in and out through their ears.
Pensword came to on a cold hard surface. The first thing he beheld was white. It was pristine and blurry. “Am I in heaven?” he half-croaked, half-murmured. Then the rest of the world came into focus. He noticed the prominent muzzle between his eyes and the gray walls full of circles and embossed in gold. A strange almost holographic sheen seemed to ripple over those surfaces, channeling bubbles drifting through the sparkles and the gilding. High above, a veritable frenzy of color and explosion burst from stones shaped like flowers contained in the largest bubble he had ever seen as blue energy was siphoned in a stream from … from—
“Cadance!” Pensword leapt to his hooves and shook the daze from his head as he glared at the lavender Unicorn that stood over her. His wings glinted dangerously as the blades hissed with the fluttering of his brace for battle. A swift glance revealed Bellacosa and Alto were both still unconscious behind him. “Get away from her!”
“Calm down, please,” the Unicorn said in a slightly familiar voice. Her tone was level and calm, her golden eyes filled with kindness and a deep sadness.
“Not until you tell me what you’re doing to the princess,” Pensword huffed as he hurried toward the foal.
“Keeping things in motion,” she said. “There are things that need to happen right now in order for all of us to stay safe.”
Pensword cradled the filly’s head in his hooves. Blue energy streamed from her forehead, her hooves, her wings, and her fur to continue setting off the display. He knew enough of Equestria to recognize what that stream was. “And that includes sucking magic out of the princess, I suppose,” he accused. He allowed the filly’s head to lower gently to the floor, then braced himself as he leveled his wing blades once again. “Who are you, and why are you doing this?”
“I’m the Muffin Mare,” she said. “I’m here to help keep history in check and everyone safe.”
Pensword narrowed his eye suspiciously. “That’s The Doctor’s job.” Once more, his eyes roved around the chamber and finally settled on the central console and the plunger-like apparatus that lay at rest. “And you’re clearly not him. This isn’t his TARDIS, is it?”
There was a flash of a distant memory in her eyes for a moment as she gave a familiar sad smile. “It is, and it was, and it will be. But it’s my job, too.”
Pensword was still wary. “There aren’t many other Time Lords or Ladies that are on good terms with The Doctor. How do I know that I can trust you?”
“Because I have muffins,” she said, pulling one out and offering it to him.”
“How is a muffin supposed to help me know I can trust you?” Pensword objected.
“Because there is only one other Pony in the multiverse who can make these muffins,” the Muffin Mare retorted.
“And that is?”
“Take a bite, and you tell me.”
Pensword eyed the mare warily, sniffed at the quickbread, then finally took a bite. What followed can best be described as happiness in bread form. Warmth spread through his chest, over his sore limbs, and into his brain. It was one of the first times he had ever managed to taste an emotion in his life. And that ecstasy could only have been created by one mare in particular. A mare with golden eyes and an adorable filly who she protected with the ferocity of an army.
The smile he saw when he opened his eyes again was a sad one filled with the weight of years and tears that had been shed out long ago. “Do I even want to know how many years it’s been for you?” he finally asked.
She shook her head. “Just know what I’m doing is for everybody’s benefit. Cadance needs to be found outside a village centuries from now.”
“That much, I know. What I was worried about was why you’re sucking so much magic out of her.” He turned to look at the sleeping filly. The stream had begun to abate now, its source flickering as the line leading to the bubble and lightshow overhead became thinner.
“If I don’t take this energy, she’ll ascend too early, and that would cause problems,” she assured him.
“And you couldn’t have opened with that when I asked what you were doing?”
“Would you have believed me?”
“Yes. It’s a logical deduction to make after what CAPS said it was doing.”
She raised an eyebrow.
“He said he was channeling love energy into Cadance. It doesn’t take a genius to put two and two together about stopping an ascension before its time.”
Dinky blinked in surprise. “That’s … surprisingly clever of you. Your future self isn’t nearly so easy to reason with.”
“Future self?”
“Anyway, you four should be safe now,” she said, breezing right past any further mention of such things.
“What do you intend to do about Cadance’s memories? She just lost her mother. I doubt that will help her to make her connection to her destiny anytime soon.”
“I’ll be putting some psychic blocks to her memory, setting them to a trigger.”
“Isn’t there a chance of those coming undone before the trigger can be applied properly?” Pensword asked.
“No.” She shook her head. “We’ve already gone over it.”
“We?”
“Me and my TARDIS. We’ve run the numbers,” she said.
“Will it hurt her?”
“Never.”
“What do I tell her siblings?”
“Tell them they’ll see her again soon.”
“Isn’t that a lie?”
“Yes and no.” She smirked.
Pensword groaned. “Yup. It’s official. I hate time games.”
“To the world, it will be a long time. To all of you, it will be significantly less so.”
“Because of you?”
“No, because of what's to come. The rough road lies ahead of you all.”
“The foals. Are you … keeping them asleep for this?”
“I’m doing what I need to do,” she said sadly. “Threading the needle.”
“And where will you take us before you leave with Cadance?” Pensword asked. “We can’t stay in the safehouse anymore. It’s obviously compromised.”
“You’ll be rejoining your friends,” she admitted. “Though much later down the line.”
“How much later, exactly?”
“When Equestria arrives.”
“And Cosy and Alto are both to stay with me?”
She nodded. “Unfortunately, there are … conditions that need to be met. One of them is that they stay with you.”
“And when the time comes, how are we supposed to break your telepathic lock on Cadance’s memories?”
“Don’t worry. It will happen.” She smirked.
“I notice you didn’t mention a how, though,” Pensword deadpanned.
“You’re not supposed to know.”
Pensword sighed as he eyed the sleeping trio. “Can we at least give them one last nap together before we separate them?”
She laughed. “This is a TARDIS. Of course they can. I’ll put on the time lock.”
“Good.” Pensword smiled regretfully. “At least they’ll have this.”
“So, how many of the charges are set?” Grif asked Hammer Strike. The last few weeks had been grueling, and Grif had led a long and bloody charge. They’d lost several Ponies, and a good many others were injured. They’d also managed to save several groups of slaves and were slowly working toward their goal.
“Thankfully, given Star Swirl’s enchantments, they haven’t been detected. We’ve got four set up along the southern wall, and once we’ve got the last one, we should be able to tear it down and leave an opening for Equestrian forces,” Hammer Strike replied as he continued to work on the last charge.
“Good. I’m not sure how much longer this group will last,” Grif admitted. “We’re already pushing things as it is.”
“You’re telling me,” Hammer Strike sighed. “It shouldn’t be much longer until they arrive. Star Swirl’s been trying to keep track of magic signals to find them.”
“Weird we haven’t gotten a message from Pensword,” Grif commented.
“Agreed. But if he’s stuck in that bunker, it’s likely that he doesn’t have a way to contact us.”
“I hope they're okay,” Grif said. “This has been a nightmare.”
“We can only hope.” Hammer Strike frowned as he secured the final charge together. “That’s the last one.”
“So, where do you need to plant it?”
“Westernmost point of the wall segment. If I did things right, these should cause enough structural damage to at least take out a segment of the wall.” Hammer Strike rubbed the side of his head in thought. “I’m not sure, however, as I wasn’t exactly skilled in the creation of bombs,” he noted flatly.
“I mean, most chemists are taught how not to make one.” Grif shrugged.
“Yeah, but I don’t exactly have that training either. We’re going off my small samples and tests. This could either be significantly weaker than anticipated or we could have a major problem sitting here on my worktable.”
“I trust you,” Grif said.
“That’s the worst part.” Hammer Strike gave a faint chuckle. “It should work.”
“So we should try a raid on the east end of the city,” Grif said. “That might be tricky. They’ve been more apt lately with their guards.”
“Every day, they get more and more.” Hammer Strike hummed in thought. “There’s the alternative. Wait for the forces to arrive and perform the last raid on top of planting and blowing the charges.”
“If you wish to do so, the timing will have to be exact.” The great bearded sorcerer looked anything but impressive as he strode into the room. The mantle of his many years weighed heavily on his shoulders and back. His beard was snarled and knotted, his cloak rumpled, and his eyes sunken with exhaustion. “I … must admit that I don’t know how much longer I can keep up with you colts. I’m not as young as I used to be, you know.” The stallion planted his rump unceremoniously on the ground and bowed his head.
“Given you’ve lasted this long, I’m sure you’ll make it.” Hammer Strike gave a small smile. “Though, I certainly wouldn’t mind getting some rest myself.”
“Preferably, not one of a final nature.” Star Swirl smiled sardonically. “With any luck, the empire will be able to pick up the pieces after the princesses arrive. Sombra may have been able to kill the queen, but I’d like to see him pit his power against two Alicorns.”
“Yeah,” Grif nodded. “That should be short work.” He gave hammer strike an uncomfortable smile.
“Speaking of Equestria, were you able to determine how far off they are?” Hammer Strike turned to Star Swirl.
“It’s difficult to detect with Sombra’s interference. His power grows daily. I don’t know where he’s drawing it from, but it won’t be long until I won’t be able to neutralize it to mask our presence.”
“Any rough estimates?”
“The same as I gave you before. If they haven’t encountered opposition, we can probably expect them within the next few days.”
“Then we’ll prepare for when you’re certain of their arrival.” Hammer Strike frowned. “Once we are certain, we’ll start our assault.”
“I recommend placing a watch if possible. Someone who can evade notice and blend in properly.”
“I’ll have that set up as soon as I can.” Grif nodded. “It’ll be good to hunker for a bit.”
“Ex Divinia etiam, what are we about to do?” Hammer Strike muttered as he glanced over to the explosive once more.
Darkness is a thing that can be good or evil, depending on whom one asks. It conceals and protects. And it also hinders. Those who live in it are often feared. Some justly, some unjustly. In this instance, the darkness served to aid the army as Princess Luna’s warriors worked silently and efficiently to set up a base of operations. Some few of the Crystal Ponies from the empire had managed to stumble their way to the column. The vast majority of those who managed to leave the city, however, were unaccounted for.
What rations could be spared were offered, along with hot water to warm the refugees’ bones and sooth the trembling that sought to consume them as the cold had. The princess of the night looked on with compassion as the children of the north struggled to regain what they had lost. The monster that had dared to perpetrate this atrocity would pay. She snorted to vent her aggression, and her pupils narrowed to slits briefly. Yes, … they would pay dearly….
A grizzled Thestral with a silvery-gray mane approached the mare and bowed respectfully. “Your Highness, we have a problem.”
“Well, tell me, so we can deal with it immediately,” Luna said.
“Someone is claiming to be Commander Pensword, Your Highness. We have him in custody for now. The dream walkers would handle it normally to find the truth, but if this is a ploy from the enemy, like we think it is, it’s best to keep the stallion and his charges isolated. We can’t wait for them to sleep without being certain they can’t do us harm.”
“And how do you know this to be an imposter?” Luna asked.
“He has no fangs, Your Highness, and he carries no scars from battle. His armor is nicked from fighting, but that appears to be the extent of his injuries and experience. Most telling of all, he has no tufts on his ears.”
“Our enemy was able to best Queen Blood Diamond herself. He would not be so foolish as to send an imposter into our midst that is so easily found out.” Her gaze narrowed. “For now, keep them separate from the remainder of the camp. I will tend to these strangers myself. And if they are a danger to you or our allies, then I will deal with them accordingly.” Her magic whirred dangerously to emphasize her point.
What she found was far less than dangerous at first sight. Two young faces looked at her, but these were not the faces of those who were pleased. Sadness surged from those kind and innocent eyes in palpable waves. The stallion who laid between them had his wings wrapped protectively around them, even as he looked gravely at the princess.
“Princess Luna,” he greeted.
“Commander?” Luna asked carefully as she approached.
“If I am, then not yet,” Pensword said tiredly, then sighed. “I’m told to tell you The Muffin Mare sends her regards.”
Luna didn’t react for a moment before giving a stiff nod. “Guard, take them to my tent and send for my sister. Tell her we have a crackathoom-level issue that needs to be discussed.”
The guard bowed. “At once, Your Highness.”
It didn’t take long for the three to settle in, and Celestia arrived swiftly after with the aid of the coordinates Luna had provided. The princess of the sun hadn’t changed from when Pensword saw her last, save that this one didn’t seem to carry quite so much weight on her shoulders. Then again, perhaps the mare was just better at hiding it in this stage of her life.
“I came as soon as I could,” Celestia said. “What is it, Luna?”
“Sister, look for yourself. Commander Pensword and two of the three heirs,” Luna said.
“I was referring to the level you mentioned in your message.”
“Sister, look at the commander very closely.”
“What is it that I am supposed to be looking for?” Celestia asked.
“My apologies,” Luna said to Pensword before igniting her horn and pulling his lip up to expose his teeth, despite his protestations.
Celestia’s gaze narrowed. “What is the meaning of this, sister?”
“Given that he mentioned the Muffin Mare sending her regards,” Luna said. “I think we can infer things have gotten wibbly wobbly.”
“She’s gotten involved in this?”
Luna nodded.
“Can I have my lip back now, please?” Pensword said as best he could, even as he wrestled against Luna’s magic with his hooves.
“Oh, yes. Sorry.” She dropped the spell.
“Thank you.” Pensword panted, then regained his composure, even as the foals struggled to stifle their giggles. “Look, I can’t exactly tell you when you’ll meet me again in the future, but we’re not stupid here. You both know enough to know I’m not the Pensword you know today. Whether I am him or not is a debate I really don’t want to get into right now. What I do know is that I have two foals here who I’m supposed to watch over and protect with everything I can muster.”
“And you seem to have done that job well.” Luna nodded.
“I had help, including a brave colt who you may have to talk to about it. He’s had to do something no child should, and I don’t know if I’m equipped to help him through that once he has to face it.” He pulled Cosy close and nuzzled him briefly.
Luna nodded gravely. “Can you tell us what's going on in the walls?”
“Only what I knew when I escaped. King Sombra is using dark magic to control the empire. I’ve received definitive intelligence that Queen Blood Diamond is dead. Given the lack of any other nobility in the shelter where we contacted you, it’s likely that Sombra either killed them, imprisoned them, or corrupted them to suit his ends. He tried to do it to me, but for some reason the spell didn’t take. Unfortunately, the same can’t be said for the soldiers he infected.”
“And Cadance?”
“Safe, where Sombra can’t reach her. The kingdom has acknowledged her as the rightful heir, but it isn’t her time to assume the throne yet.” He sighed. “The crystal heart was also stolen. Without its power to stabilize Cadance, the Muffin Mare had to take certain steps to protect her.”
“I … see.” Luna nodded. “We’ll need to trust she knows what she’s doing.”
“She’s a clever girl. Cadance is in good hooves. I have the promise that you will see her again one day, but you musn’t search for her. For now, she has to remain hidden until she’s ready to come into her own.”
“And when will that be?” Celestia asked.
Pensword sighed. “I honestly don’t know. I can tell you it won’t be any time soon, though, at least not for you. The Muffin Mare hinted that the foals and I might see Cadance sooner. You have her to thank for our lives. Sombra laid a trap in the bunker. Without her timely interference, we would certainly have perished. Or worse.”
Luna nodded. “Well, that complicates things.”
“I can say this much for certain. His power may be great, but it’s not enough to stand against you and your sister. He had to use dirty tricks to take me off guard. And while he may have grown more powerful since then, it’s evident that he has yet to assume the true mantle of the empire. If the two of you combine your strength against him, you will be victorious.”
“Your assurance is encouraging.” Luna smiled. “But it is the matter of getting inside that's the issue.”
“True. I wouldn’t be surprised if he has his Unicorn thralls on guard to fire at anything coming from the sky. I don’t know whether the Pegasi he’s corrupted will be capable of flight or not, though. This … affliction he casts causes black crystals to emerge from the victims’ bodies at random locations. After that, they cannot speak, and they appear to be little more than automatons awaiting direction from their creator.”
“And do you think he feels confident enough to launch an attack of his own beyond the walls?” Celestia asked.
Pensword shook his head. “It’s unlikely. He may want to snuff the royal line, but he knows better than to try to attack an encampment full of Thestrals and Princess Luna herself, particularly when the Solar forces are close on their heels.”
“And the possibility of rebels inside his own walls.”
“That is not a possibility,” Pensword said firmly. “Grif and Hammer Strike are behind those walls with Star Swirl. I am uncertain how much time has passed since the Muffin Mare picked us up, but I know they would have organized a resistance to fight back.”
“Then we will have to do our part to help them,” Celestia said grimly. “I won’t allow him to fall into enemy hooves.”
“Neither of us will,” Luna affirmed. “Still, we need to get past the wall.”
“We can plan for that after the children have rested and the remainder of our forces arrive,” Celestia said. “For now, let us instead dwell on how best to face our new enemy.”
And so they did.
“Reports are confirmed,” Grif said. “Equestria is here. Luna’s forces are just out of range, and Celestia’s aren’t far off.”
“Then it’s time to get things rolling.” Hammer Strike sighed. “Star Swirl, are you prepared?”
“Always,” Star Swirl said grimly. “You can rest assured I’ll provide enough of a fight to draw the enemy’s eyes.”
“We’ll be hitting this site,” Grif explained, pointing to a spot on the map to the east of the city. “There is a large slave compound here, and we’ve been wanting to hit it for weeks. I figure that should draw enough attention for you to get the charge placed.
“Good. Once it’s all prepared, I’ll set them to detonate. It should give us enough clearance for the Equestrian forces to move in.” Hammer Strike hummed. “If I made them potent enough, that is….”
“It’s a risk we’ll have to take. Assuming you can get the detonations to resonate at the proper frequency, it should shatter the walls, at least in theory,” Star Swirl said.
“This one’s going to be a slog,” Grif said. “But we should be fine if we’re careful.”
“Then let’s get to it. Get your units together, and we’ll set out. I’ll delay for a few minutes to give you time to gather attention,” Hammer Strike replied.
Star Swirl nodded. “We will make this a day that Sombra never forgets.”
“Then I'll get moving,” Grif said. “Give us an hour to get in position.”
“You’ll know when it’s time to lay the last charge,” Star Swirl assured. “Stealth won’t be our goal this time.”
Hammer Strike watched as the two departed before letting out a sigh. Glancing back to the charge on the table, he felt a sense of unease. “Ex Divinia etiam,” he muttered. “I hope I got the measurements right for this.”
After some time had passed, he stood from his seat and grabbed the charge. Those that would be following him would be aiting just outside the makeshift war room. Taking one last breath, he stashed the charge in a small pack before putting it on, and exited to find his group.
The unit was small, a mere five troops garbed in the gear Hammer Strike had improved and repaired to the best of his ability in the makeshift forge he’d made for himself. Black masks covered the Ponies’ faces as they saluted the Earth Pony, and at last one of them pulled the cloth down to reveal a familiar face.
“Ready for deployment, Sir. The civilians have been placed in the emergency shelters you prepared,” Critical Flaw reported.
“Good.” Hammer Strike nodded. “This is our last run with the charges. After this, everything comes to the front. Equestrian forces of both Celestia and Luna are beyond that wall, and we’re going to give them one hell of an opening.”
“We’re ready and able, Sir.”
“Let’s give them a show, then.” Hammer Strike moved to the exit. “Let’s move out.”
The journey to the wall was still a perilous task. Sombra was not one to rest on his laurels for long. Many guards had been taken by his control, and despite the ruckus Grif and Star Swirl were tossing up with their troops, many remained rigidly on duty to keep an eye out for anything out of the ordinary. With Critical Flaw’s assistance, many of these guards were incapacitated. And so it was that they made their way quietly and stealthily toward the wall and the troops that waited beyond. With any luck, they would be able to finish their task and open the way. If not, … well, they didn’t allow themselves to think about it.
“And now, the fun part,” Hammer Strike hummed. “Keep a watch. Once I plant this explosive, I’ll be igniting the fuse. When I start, get as far back as you can.”
“What about the other bombs?” Critical Flaw asked.
“Chain reaction.” He gave a rough gesture to the distance. “Given they react to thermal change, it should work just fine.”
“Then all that’s left to say is good luck, Sir. We’ll cover for you as best we can.”
“I’m sure you will,” Hammer Strike chuckled softly as he made his way toward the final section of the wall. Thankfully, all the attention was elsewhere, giving him an easy time to plant the charge. Once it was secure on the wall, he took a breath. “Gods, I hope I did this part right.”
Taking another breath, he took hold of a small cord on the side of the charge and gave it a sharp tug, removing it from the explosive. The only sign that it was potentially working was the faint sound of a crackling hiss. The second the sound reached his ears, he turned away from the explosive and took off as quickly as his hooves could carry him, gesturing to pull the others away from their hiding places. From above, flashes of light and the twang of arrows sang as spells were fired and arrows loosed in a prelude to the symphony of war. Clearly, the advance had begun.
Those guards that sought to stop their flight were dispatched swiftly. There was no telling for sure how potent the explosion would be when the chain was finally unleashed, and Hammer Strike wanted to be well away from the wall before it and all the troops that manned it were reduced to so much rubble.
There is a curious phenomenon that occurs before a great event. A sort of anticipation seems to hold the very air hostage as sound becomes muted and every muscle tenses, waiting for the moment to come. The senses sharpen, and everything strains and leans toward that final climax. So it was for Hammer Strike as his ears swiveled behind him to trace out each hoofbeat and breath from his companions.
Then, at last, the moment broke with a thunderous detonation. And like a fuse along a stream of fireworks, the flames, heat, and shrapnel spread with radiant intensity. The air was alive with the sound, followed by a muffled sort of silence as the shockwave reached their ears. The very ground beneath them vibrated with the shock of the blasts. It was a miracle the roads themselves remained unblemished while the wall cracked and bowed under the intense reactions until finally, inexorably, the reeling broke, and the towering structure began to topple.
All along the line, patches of wall crumbled and fell to lay down on the ground, providing the perfect access points to the invading forces. Hammer Strike breathed a sigh of relief at the sight. Grim lines of blue and gold armored warriors surged forward on the ground and in the sky with a mighty shout.
The thralls that survived merely braced themselves for the attack as they rushed out to meet them. The plan was a success.
“I hope I don’t have to do that again,” Hammer Strike sighed.
The sun shone bright and clear on that chilly morning, and the ice and snow reflected that to dazzling effect. To combat this, each soldier’s helms had been enchanted with wards to defend against snow blindness and provide the warriors the opportunity to better see their opponents. Assaulting the wall would be a difficult task, but not impossible. And any foes that stepped beyond the protective barrier of the city would face the full might of the Equestrian armed forces.
“Barring a miracle, we’ll have to assault the walls to open the way for our ground forces. There simply isn’t another way,” Celestia said. “If I try to use the power of the sun’s rays, the crystal facets could easily refract that energy in any number of directions with even greater intensity than what I could summon.
“And I assume mass teleportation is also not an option,” Pensword mused.
“Not if we don’t want to risk hurting civilians,” Celestia said.
“And we don’t know the terrain well enough to teleport confidently without line of sight,” Luna noted.
“Then where do we go from here? If we don’t act soon, Sombra will. I’ve seen what he’s capable of. And if he’s managed to gain as much control of the empire as I think he has, then he could conjure literal weapons from the very ground itself to strike at our troops,” Pensword said seriously.
“That's doubtful.” Luna shook her head.
“Regardless, it would be wise to begin some form of assault as a distraction, if nothing else, and a means to test just how thorough the defenses Sombra has put in place are,” Pensword said.
“That is a fair analysis,” Luna said. “However, we need to keep in mind we have just finished a war. Our army, while present, is weary and worn. We need to keep operations contained to what will keep morale running.”
“Do you have any suggestions? The Luna I know is a brilliant tactician, or at least from what I’ve seen in how she plays chess.”
“For now? We should have the Unicorns bombard the wall with spells and have the Earth Ponies lob boulders. It will serve to keep Sombra thinking we’re committed to a siege until we can think of a plan.”
“And how long do you think that will take?”
“We don’t know, Pensword. The Crystal Empire is a mysterious place full of ancient magic and power that the rest of the world doesn’t have. It would be dangerous to underestimate it,” Celestia said. “But regardless, I agree with Luna. We will take her prescribed course to protect our troops and raise morale in preparation for the real campaign.”
The bombardment went as most bombardments do. Boulders lobbed at the walls, only to rebound with a ringing and great percussion. Spells flung back and forth in efforts to protect the walls and demoralize the troops. Bolts of energy sizzled while shield constructs bolstered defense or deflected enemy attacks. And so it continued until the walls shook not from the shock of a hail of stones, but rather from the detonations emanating from the other side. The crystal took on a cherry glow as blow after blow shot along the barrier, causing the walkways to wobble and wave with the cracks that began to form. Blow after blow, explosion after explosion, burst, sending great gouts of smoke billowing into the air until, at last, a great shattering wrenched through the air, and the wall collapsed, taking the troops that manned it with it.
The way was open, and the sudden destruction left the opening relatively unguarded. The princesses did not hesitate.
Celestia rose into the air and tossed her mane as she drew her sword. “For freedom and Equestria!”
“Form ranks and charge!” Luna echoed, drawing her hammer and heading for the city. At last, true battle could be joined.
Pensword looked to the two foals on either side of him. “I want you two to stay close to me. Understand? No heroics, no flailing swords. Our part in this war is nearly ended, but we need to find Hammer Strike and Grif to finish it.”
Both foals looked at Pensword, partly in fear, partly in sorrow. “Will we see Cady again?” Alto asked.
Pensword nodded. “Stick with me, and I promise you will.”
Alto leaned in close to Pensword’s side. “Then I’m ready.”
“Cosy?” Pensword asked.
The colt nodded. “We’ll stay out of trouble,” he promised.
Pensword nodded grimly. “Then let’s go.”
Grif Winced as a mace smashed into his side. The battle had gone badly; very badly. Sombra had traced the pattern of Grif’s attacks and managed to guess where the rebels would be attacking next, despite the Gryphon’s best efforts to obscure their targets. Things devolved into straight-up melee combat after that. Unfortunately, Grif had less trained fighters than Sombra had. And what fighters he did have were smaller and weaker than these new streamlined dark warriors.
Grif fought savagely to kill as many as he could and save his people, but he could already see the way things were heading. Even if Equestria arrived in time, it was already too late to save these souls.
“Star Swirl, can you do anything to get them out of here?” Grif asked as he fought, certain the screaming pain in his chest was a cracked rib.
“Grif, I can hardly deflect our enemy’s arrows as is!” Star Swirl puffed as his horn glowed. Spot shields flickered in and out of existence as arrows darker than obsidian and laced with a latticework of purple and green clashed, then fell to the ground. Occasionally, one would manage to slip through, and the Pony who was impaled either had to cut off the offending part … or face death at the hooves of a brother as the corruption embedded within the weave of the arrow’s making seeped into their own well of magic. “At this rate, we’ll be overrun if we don’t do something soon.”
A cruel and mocking laugh reverberated through the air as the dark tower that had been grown over the original crystal palace flared at its top and then projected the face of that hated Pony who was the source of the strife that now rent this land and led so many souls to senseless death. “I see our guests have arrived. Tell me, heroes, do you like my little welcoming gift?” He laughed again. “Rest assured, it gets even better when you accept it properly.”
Grif growled. “Come down here and see for yourself!” he shouted, raising his sword.
“Grif, he can’t hear us,” Star Swirl said. “Don’t let him distract you from our purpose. You know what’s at stake.”
Grif said nothing to the Unicorn as he charged back into the fight, his side shrieking anew as the strokes of his swings started to become clumsy and ill-timed. The warrior was flagging, and he knew it. And if he was, then odds were the rest of their raiding party was well beyond running on fumes. He may not have been able to lead them to victory, but he was going to do his best to ensure they would survive as long as possible. Grif grit his teeth as he raised his arms yet again to strike at the horde. And though it hurt him greatly, he allowed himself to take one deep breath. For such a stand, a battle cry was demanded, and he knew of only one that would be appropriate.
“Lerrrrrooooyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy!” He called into the wind.
There was no one to offer the second cry. And Grif wasn’t sure if it was the pain radiating from his cracked rib or the stab of worry over the fate of his friends. Regardless, he knew what he had to do. He flapped his wings and lunged once more into the fray.
Win or lose, Grif would ensure Sombra knew to fear what he could do.
The rush into the city was perhaps the most foolish thing Pensword could have done. It was undoing every action he had taken to protect the royal foals. Instead of fleeing the throne of darkness, they plunged toward its heart in the midst of the other soldiers soaring and running above and around them. Were it not for the instructions of a certain time mare, he never would have considered it in the first place. As it stood now, however, he wasn’t about to take any chances if he could help it.
“Remember, if anything happens, you run as fast and as hard as you can to Celestia and Luna’s troops, understand?”
“But—” Cosy began to protest.
“No buts. You two are symbols of hope for the empire. Your people need that hope now more than ever. And you have to do everything you can to preserve it. Understand?”
Lips wobbled, but Cosy and Alto nodded all the same.
“Good. Now let’s—” Pensword’s ear twitched suddenly, and he cocked his head to strain as his ears pivoted like radars in search. “What the…?”
“Pensword?” Alto asked.
Pensword frowned. “I heard something. And I’m not entirely sure I like it.” His wings hissed ominously as his feathers caused the metal that sheathed them to rustle and rasp. “Time for a little reconnaissance.”
No matter the precautions, there would always be some unexpected issue that would topple any plan put in motion. This, Hammer Strike was almost certain of. What helped the notion was the factor of the corrupted guards, who were now approaching from all angles.
Their initial prompt was to investigate the remains of the wall. Finding a small unit of guards not a part of their ranks, however, led to a different and far more dangerous objective.
“So much for regrouping.” Hammer Strike grit his teeth as he scanned over the corrupt guards moving to surround them.
“I did mention this would be a possibility, Sir,” Critical Flaw said as he drew his sword. “The destruction of the wall would almost certainly draw more troops, particularly with Equestrian forces waiting to pour in through it.”
“I did not disagree with you on that. We did, however, note the likelihood of them noticing us to be lower,” Hammer Strike frowned. “We don’t have the numbers for this.”
“If we can hold out, we will soon enough. I didn’t get a proper count of the troops out there, but it’s only logical that they’ll take the path of least resistance into the city.”
“You forget one issue with that. Grif and Star Swirl have been at it on the other side of this place. Meaning, … the least resistance would be the opposite side from us.”
“I suppose we could try a flare, but that would be a double-edged sword and turn it into a race between which forces can get here first.” Critical Flaw grunted as he fended off a particularly nasty blow from one of the monstrosities formerly known as royal guards.
“Too risky.” Hammer Strike frowned as he thought it over. “We’re going with option three. Press an opening and don’t look back.”
Before anything else could be said, Hammer Strike took the moment to take a large sweeping strike with his greatsword. His methods of attack switched as he cleaved at the forces in front of them, drawing as much attention as he could to himself. He’d burn through what energy he had to do it, but he was certain he could make an opening for the others.
While the enemy had trained for many techniques in battle, they never had been prepared to face off against a Pony who could wield a greatsword as easily as they might a stick. The blade, carefully tended, cut through bone and sinew with its sharp edge, splattering blood and a dark sludge over the ground in equal measure. With the greater threat literally having charged into their midst, the throng of attackers grouped around the warrior and prepared to take him on.
“Run!” he commanded.
“Hammer Strike!”
“Onwards! Have faith!” Hammer Strike called out as he pressed his assault.
Critical Flaw cursed as he and the colts who were still fit to fight surged against the weak point Hammer Strike’s assault had created. And while blood was drawn, the soldiers managed to break through to the other side.
“Faust damn it, Hammer Strike, you’d better not die!” the stallion swore.
“Already died once before. It’s not all it’s cracked up to be,” Hammer Strike called out as he exuded confidence.
Tears flowed from the stallion’s eyes as he and the others retreated. “We’ll come back for you with reinforcements! I swear it!”
“I know you will,” Hammer Strike spoke softly as he readied himself. The opening had already closed off to ensure he couldn’t follow. He took several breaths, then raised his sword again and assumed a combative stance, loading his voice with as much bravado as he could. “If you want me, come and get me!”
And so the struggle began anew, and Hammer Strike was lost in the combat that followed.
The streets were suspiciously empty as Pensword raced across them. It was likely the citizens were either hiding in their homes or possibly being held elsewhere by Sombra’s forces. He prayed it was the former. The sounds of fighting could be heard all over the city. With the wall’s destruction, the full might of Equestria was able to be brought to bear, and the princesses took full advantage of it. However, that was not Pensword’s care right now. His focus lay in the cry he had heard, a cry that only two other people would ever be able to know.
The soldier, or rather the civilian playing soldier, came out of nowhere. The foals screamed as the bloodied figure lurched into Pensword and looked at the stallion with the desperation of one who had been completely consumed by fear. Blood pumped from a gash just above his flanks, and his lame leg dragged and slid along, its journey made easier by the natural lubricant that flowed so freely down the limb. His eyes were wild and almost unseeing, his helmet lost to reveal a gnarled greasy mane. “I don’t want to die. I don’t want to die. Please, Fuast, Sleipnir, anyone. I don’t want to die!” He sobbed weakly as his body shook violently from the shock and loss of blood. He clung tightly to Pensword’s breastplate. “Don’t take me. Please, don’t take me. Don’t take me yet. Don’t take me. Don’t take me….” His mewlings softened and quieted as his organs began to shut down. All Pensword could do was watch and try to comfort the colt.
“There there,” he said gently as he ran a hoof down the colt’s neck. “There, there.” He wanted to say more, to offer some small assurance, but what could he say? There was no help for the Pony. No amount of first aid would stave off the inevitable. He shushed the colt gently as the sobbing eased and unfocused eyes stared into his. Pensword stiffened as the death rattle finally came. He knew what it meant well enough. In response, he laid the colt gently onto the ground and closed his eyes. There would doubtless be more dead to tend to by the time this was all over, countless more.
“Cosy, Alto,” he said softly to the foals, “let’s go.”
It didn’t take long to follow the trail. And when the trio arrived, a Gryphon knelt, cradling a Pony’s head much the same way that Pensword had done only a few minutes prior. A white shield pulsed around him and the sorcerer who projected it against the troops that surrounded it.
Pensword sounded a sharp whistle and a detachment of Thestrals flew in dark blurs to divebomb the enemy. It took a few minutes, but in time, the enemies were properly dispatched, leaving the warriors and Star Swirl alone to revel in the fact that they yet lived. Though the grim faces revealed the truth of the matter. The fact was scarce comfort in the face of the cost that had been exacted in exchange.
“Grif, I … heard your call,” Pensword said softly as he looked on the Gryphon. Tears stood in Grif’s eyes, a sight that the Pegasus had never seen before.
“They’re dead.” Grif let out a stuttering sigh. “All of them. Sombra ambushed us. There was nothing I could do to save them.” He coughed and spat out a large glob of blood. More blood stained his feathers and fur, including one particularly large wound that looked more than painful.
The Thestrals assembled and saluted Pensword. “Sir, the area is secure. There are no signs of the corrupted remaining in this sector.”
Pensword nodded bleakly. “Thank you for your assistance. In that case, return to the main column. I have a feeling Sombra is probably redirecting his efforts to stemming the tide of our advance, now that we’ve broken through to the city. We’ll meet you farther along.”
The Thestral’s brow furrowed in concern. “Are you sure that’s wise? Grif is heavily injured.”
“I’ll be fine,” Grif said. “There are ponies you can still save by following orders.”
“Go on,” Pensword said.
The Thestrals finally nodded and saluted. “Yes, Sir.” And then they were off.
Pensword sighed and shook his head. “I really need to learn how to fly after all this is over,” he muttered.
Grif couldn’t bring himself to respond. His attention was elsewhere as he looked up to the tower where Sombra likely stood. Rage, anger, sorrow, loss, vengeance, justice, and a lust for blood all churned in a maelstrom that tore out of his throat in an inhuman roar as his eyes glowed. For a brief moment, pensword saw light and dark blue spiraling in his friend’s eyes with a thick ring of black around the edges. The presence was different. This being who looked at the tower didn’t feel like the Grif he knew.
“We don’t have much time,” Pensword said. “Where’s Hammer Strike?”
Grif didn’t respond to Pensword as he continued looking up. Finally, he stood. And though blood trickled from his beak, he cried once more to the winds and to the tower of corrupted crystal that was Sombra’s stronghold. This time, however, it was not the roar of a beast, but the cry of a man filled with a dreadful purpose. “Hear me!” he roared. “I shout on the wind that you might hear me!” He pulled a knife to his palm and drew blood. It welled and pooled, then ran through the latticework of the scales along his hand before seeming almost to rise in tiny droplets that spread into a fine mist on the wind.
A shudder ran through Pensword’s frame as he gazed on his friend, and Star Swirl gasped.
“Think carefully, boy!” the Unicorn barked. “You’ll be bound for the rest of your days!”
Pensword could feel something stirring within him as the words resonated deep inside his bones. His wings tingled, and a violent trembling overtook him that had nothing to do with the cold.
“Magic,” Cosy breathed softly.
“But … Gryphons can’t do magic anymore. Mother said so,” Alto protested.
And yet, the feeling persisted, and the winds began to whip in the skies above as old magic hummed to life and the crystals, dark and light, trembled and began to sing.
“Hear me! And be warned, Sombra!” Grif raised his hand into the air above him and rose onto his hind paws as his black wings spread wide to either side. He would not be dissuaded or hindered. It was possible he couldn’t even hear what the others were saying. “By the blood of my oath that I spill today, I name you foe and enemy!” He spat his spite and outrage in hot gusts that rivaled the frigid air rushing around him. “I declare my vendetta to the heavens! And ask that they stand witnesses to the debt that is between us! I will bring you pain, and I will be your death! I will chase you through life and death, and I will hunt you until your soul is in tatters and oblivion embraces you! By the Winds that scour the earth, I make this vow with my blood. I name you, foe! I name you my prey! I name you, the viper Sombra! And I will cut off your venomous head! Hear me, and despair!”
Far in the distance, there was a deafening crack, as the breaking of a mighty crag. The ghost of a raucous cry carried through the wind, silent to all save the Gryphon’s ears. It resonated with rage, with fury, and the lust for vengeance. Above all, its cry was exultant as the singing crystals stilled and dimmed. A shadow passed over the skies as turbulent storm clouds roiled under the gales that gathered overhead. Beneath, however, that stillness deepened, and the shadows grew yet darker still, seeming to stretch along the streets and surging through the air until even the cries of battle seemed to hush at this urging.
“You fool,” Star Swirl murmured. “You aren’t ready.”
In the tower at the city’s heart, the projection of Sombra flickered, and the smug superiority faltered as fear took its place for the briefest of moments. Then the projection cut off altogether, and a shrill whinny took its place, one filled with pain and a rage deeper even than Grif’s. A dust cloud billowed in the distance as a blue blur surged toward the tower with flaming hammer held aloft.
The city trembled again, this time from the sheer force of the Canterlot Voice unleashed in all its devastating volume. “YOU SHALL PAY FOR THIS CRIME A THOUSAND FOLD!”
Into the depths. Into the dark. The soldiers plunged on through the skies and the streets, ever wary for an attack, ever searching for their foes. And more importantly, for survivors. What few souls they glimpsed remained hidden in their houses behind curtains with dull eyes and duller coats. It was as if the sparkle that imbued the land with its wonders had been snuffed out, leaving a greedy shadow in its place to spread and consume at leisure.
“I don’t like this, Luna,” Celestia said as she eyed the streets carefully. “Sombra wouldn’t be foolish enough to let us enter unopposed.”
“I think something has happened he wasn’t ready for,” Luna noted.
“I should think so, considering what happened to that wall,” Celestia pointed out. “Perhaps he is consolidating his forces at the castle to protect himself?”
“Possible.” Luna nodded. “Though, likely, there may be a hint of chaos to it all as well.”
“Where Hammer Strike is concerned, I have no doubt of that,” Celestia agreed. “For now, it’s a matter of finding him and liberating those we can along the way.”
“Yes, though I feel there is more going on than we realize.”
“Isn’t there always where he’s concerned?”
Luna nodded. “He should be nearby. I think I feel something akin to his presence.”
When the troops arrived at last at the scene of battle, what greeted them was a veritable mosaic of corrupted Crystal Pony husks soaked in their gore. Their armor had been shattered or otherwise heavily impacted, and deep gashes and amputations made the scene all the more gruesome. In the heart of the display of carnage incarnate, a lone figure stood, his chest heaving as he leaned against the pommel of his greatsword. His armor was scratched, and he and his equipment both were covered in blood, but there he stood, alive and still breathing as unfocused eyes stared into the distance.
“Hammer Strike?” Celestia gaped at the stallion, and her legs buckled as the shock of the sight hit her.
Luna rushed forward to support him, leaning against his side.
It took a moment before Hammer Strike was able to speak. “Not … the one … you know. At least, I don’t think so.”
“You need rest and medical attention,” Celestia said. A curt gesture from her sent the troops to scurrying as a defensive perimeter was formed, followed by the approach of multiple combat medics, complete with emergency kits. “Luna, help him lie down.”
“I’ll be fine.” Hammer Strike took a breath. “It’s just ... light damage. They didn’t pierce the armor. Save it … for those who need it more.”
Celestia and Luna both shared a grave look between one another as they looked at the Pony. “No, I don’t think so,” Celestia said gently as the medics unpacked. “You fought for an ally you may not even have known. That deserves respect and proper treatment. Besides, if there’s poison or dark magic imbued into the weapons that struck you, the wounds will need to be tended immediately.”
After a few moments, he huffed reluctantly. “Fine. I … don’t think I have the strength to fight back at the moment.”
Celestia smirked. “I have a feeling that won’t be the case for long.”
Hammer Strike glanced at Celestia for a moment with a raised brow.
“For now, let's get somewhere less open,” Luna said.
“Perhaps one of the citizens would be willing to give him shelter. He has been fighting on their behalf, after all,” Celestia suggested.
“Why the hell wouldn’t he?” Luna asked angrily.
“I’m not saying he hasn’t, Luna, but he’s in no condition to fight right now. He needs rest at the very least, possibly more if the medics deem it necessary.”
“If you believe I would allow others to fight while I do nothing, you’ll find yourself sorely mistaken.” Hammer Strike grit his teeth as he stood on his own.
“You’ve been fighting to give us the time to get here and support you. You need to rest. You can barely stand as it is!” Celestia objected.
The shot came with little warning. One lone cry pierced the air. A dark blur leaped, then fell to the ground. The black arrow was forged from crystal as hard as diamond, and it jutted from the Thestral’s side as she breathed and wheezed shallowly. The reprisal was as fast as light itself as the warriors formed a protective circle and some of the Thestrals pointed toward the roofs of one of the structures. Two arrows of solar flame lanced at the structure. There was no cry of alarm and no trickle of blood, but Celestia’s face was grim as she looked inquiringly to the warriors that had spotted the shooter. They nodded in silent confirmation to the unspoken question.
On the ground, however, a different battle was beginning as the wounded Thestral cried out in pain and her sides heaved. Armor began to creak and groan as her body slowly expanded with mass and an inky pool of black began to encroach around the red of her irises.
Luna looked at the soldier and approached slowly, tears welling in her eyes as her hammer spun ready behind her.
“Do it quickly, Chieftess. I don’t … I don’t—” She cried again as the armor began to cut into her body and the first of the black crystals jutted from her shoulder. When she looked to her princess again, one eye glowed a solid green rimmed by that inky black. “Send me on.”
Dark horseshoes pressed her down heavily, even as her body began to rise against her will. That was soon replaced by the superior power of the princess’ magic, and the warriors stepped away respectfully to make room for Luna.
“Thank you for your service, Nightstalker. May you find peace in the Elysium Fields.” With a single blow, she crushed the Thestral’s head with her hammer. The tears flowed freely as she looked down at the twitching body. A substance that was not entirely blood and not entirely ichor leeched and separated as it seeped from the corpse.
“Luna….” Celestia began.
“Come, Sister.” Luna turned to face the palace. The tone in her voice was eerily calm, and even as the tears continued to flow, her pupils narrowed into vertical slits. “I feel a little regicide is in order.”
“... You don’t intend to hold back this time, do you?” Celestia asked.
“Would you?” Luna asked, but not of her sister. Instead, her gaze was fixed intently on Hammer Strike.
“Not in the slightest.” Hammer Strike looked between the two. “Strike now while you have the time.”
Luna nodded gratefully before returning her gaze to their destination. “Tell all forces to form a perimeter outside the city. Consider everything beyond this point taken care of,” she ordered.
“I’ll shield their retreat,” Celestia said. “And I’ll join you as soon as they’re out of range.”
Luna nodded and spread her wings wide. Then she launched herself into the skies, a great war cry blaring through the air before her with the force of a battering ram, her magic trailing behind her like a comet tail as she made her indignation known throughout the empire.
Celestia turned to the others. “There isn’t much time. My sister will reduce this city to rubble if she must to avenge Nightstalker’s death. I want all of you to evacuate immediately. You are to mount a full withdrawal, as my sister commanded.” She looked intently at Hammer Strike. “I would order them to take you with them, but I think we both know you would fight them, if necessary, to stay.”
“Grif and Pensword are still here. Until I find them, I will not be leaving,” Hammer Strike replied.
Celestia nodded. “Very well.” The ground shook as the crash of shattering crystal tore through the air. “Move out,” she ordered the troops. “And you. Stay safe. I won’t let you die on me, Hammer Strike.” With those final parting words, Celestia ignited her horn, and a great barrier formed around herself and the invading force.
Hammer Strike took a moment before sighing. “Just a little bit more,” he muttered to himself. “Grif shouldn’t be too far off.”
Grif was having a very bad day. His side throbbed. His legs didn’t want to work right. His wings drooped and dragged against the ground. And yet, he had to carry on. They all did. Grif leaned heavily against Pensword as the two friends hobbled on. Meanwhile, Star Swirl retained a constant vigil over their surroundings, his horn ready to unleash his sorcery at a moment’s notice for the sake of protecting the royal heirs.
“How much farther do you think we have to go before we reach ground zero?” Pensword asked his friend.
“Can’t be too far,” Grif croaked. “Though I hope Luna saved some for us.”
“You’re in no fit condition to fight,” Pensword said sternly. “The only thing we’d better hope she’s saved for us is some medical supplies.”
“There are a lot more people who’ll suffer if I can't fight,” Grif said.
“You can leave that to the princesses to manage,” Star Swirl said. “If Princess Luna has chosen to release restraint, we should be more concerned about ourselves.”
“This is war! Lives are on the line,” Grif grumbled.
“Exactly my point. You will die a death that you are not meant to die, Grif. And you may hate me for it, but I will not allow that to happen. Nor, do I think, will your friend. We have fulfilled our duty. It’s time to find Hammer Strike and regroup.”
“You know, for being a well regarded wizard of the time, you're a god-damned coward,” Grif snarled.
“As much as I hate to agree with him,” Hammer Strike spoke up as he approached, “we’ll get caught in the crossfire at this rate.”
Grif growled but then let out a sigh. “Well then, what now?”
“I don’t know. We know the outcome of this, but that just leads to the question of how we get back afterwards.” Hammer Strike sighed before humming in thought.
“I may have researched into time travel, but I don’t have a spell to send someone to the future,” Star Swirl said.
“The future?” Alto asked.
“What’s he talking about, Pensword?” Cosy asked.
“Something we can’t discuss right now,” Pensword said to the pair.
Grif, meanwhile, looked at their surroundings, his head darting back and forth as he examined the area and the landscape. “Where is it?”
“What are you looking for?” Hammer Strike asked.
“The statue of us,” Grif said. “It should be here or nearby.”
Hammer Strike raised a brow. “Why would they even have statues of us in the first place? I doubt they’d have the time to even make them, given what is to occur.”
Grif looked to Hammer Strike. “But they were here.”
“Um, … Mother never commissioned any statues of you,” Cosy said. “She said you wouldn’t approve.”
“Unless Star Swirl knows some kind of … petrification spell, I don’t see how those statues could have been us,” Hammer Strike replied before glancing over to Star Swirl.
The sorcerer winced at the question. “It is … a rather sore subject, but yes, I do know of such a spell.”
After a few seconds, Hammer Strike sighed. “So, that’s how we do it,” he muttered. “Having been here long enough, would it be possible to, say, synchronize the spell to also be released with the use of the crystal heart?”
“Without a proper sample of the crystal heart’s energy, it’s highly unlikely, particularly with the heart stolen. However, if the heart should ever be regained, then its power would seek out its kind naturally, and we have two heirs who would not survive easily in this era, even if Pensword were willing to part with them.”
“Which I’m not,” Pensword said adamantly.
“It’s unlikely that your statue would survive to the future in the middle of such havoc being wrought by the sisters, however,” Star Swirl mused. “I can try to fortify you, but with the magical forces those two will be bringing to bear, I fear any attempts I make would be little more than sparks in a maelstrom.”
Hammer Strike shrugged. “Screw it. It’s the option we’ve got. Grif, got a good spot in mind?”
Grif traced the area weakly with his claw before pointing. “Right there.”
“Okay. Then we haven’t got much farther.” Hammer Strike nodded. “We’ll get back.”
“I suppose it’s one way to travel through time.” Grif chuckled dryly. “Feels a bit like we’re taking the vortex manipulator, though.”
“More like A Midwinter’s Tale,” Pensword said. “We get to sit tight while time passes.” He shuddered. “Let’s just hope we won’t have to be aware of it as it does.”
Overhead, the crash of thunder rumbled as flaming blue met with the blows of shadows and clouds that were not entirely natural. Around them, the dark crystals that had so come to dominate the empire began to recede, their power flowing toward the source of the corruption to bolster his power against the lunar Alicorn’s onslaught.
“We need to hurry,” Grif said, then grunted and grit his teeth as he struggled to take the lead, despite the pain his wounds caused him.
“Not if it means doing more damage to you,” Pensword said fiercely. “We still have time before Celestia joins Luna. We can take it a little slower.”
“I’d rather not take a chance.”
“And I’d rather not take a chance with your life either,” Pensword said. “It’s not that far. We’ll make it. After all, if you’re right, then time demands it, right?”
Grif just grimaced and kept going.
The group continued to draw closer to the castle. The ground and buildings shook with the force of the magical shockwaves and blows exchanged between Luna and her opponent, but despite the life-threatening conditions of the world around them, there were no great cries of alarm, no pleading for life or begging for salvation. The city was quiet and downtrodden, even as the evidence of Sombra’s dark magics dissipated to fuel their master’s battle.
“So, … we’re going to the future with you? But … won’t we be alone if we do?” Cosy asked.
Pensword shook his head. “No. You’ll be staying with us.” He smiled gently. “And when we get there, you’ll be able to see Cadance again.”
“You promise?” Alto asked, her heart in her eyes as she unleashed the full power of her cuteness on the pegasus.
Pensword nearly stumbled under the onslaught of that earnest gaze. “I’ll swear a solemn vow, one that is unbreakable in this or any time or land. It is forbidden to some for fear of the consequences of accidentally breaking it. For me, it is especially binding because of my relationship with the one who enforces it.” He raised his free hoof and began the motions as he spoke the words. “Cross my heart and hope to fly. Stick a cupcake in my eye.”
“What sort of oath is that?” Star Swirl asked.
“Something far stronger than you could understand.” Grif chuckled, then winced before spitting out another gob of blood.
Eventually, Grif guided them to the shadow of the great palace. The aurora that carried over the skies now was not the ribbons of rainbow, but rather the flash of darkness on darkness. The wrath of the moon was truly not a thing to be underestimated. And in the distance, a golden light began to flicker and rise in its intensity.
“Dawn approaches,” Pensword said.
“That is far more than a dawn,” Star Swirl said as looked to the horizon. “We don't have much time.”
“Then let’s do this,” Grif said.
“You will need to assemble yourselves properly. If anyone sees the foals, then all of this will be meaningless,” Star Swirl said.
Grif positioned himself by Pensword, being careful to extend a wing to help conceal the foals. Hammer Strike placed himself at the front to block the potential gaps between while Pensword extended his wings to mimic his friend and further help conceal the foals. It didn’t take long for the trio to manage. Pensword and Grif laid down on either side of the foals to provide even better cover.
“If you can raise your sword, I suggest you do so, for the sake of aesthetic, if nothing else,” Star Swirl said to Hammer Strike.
Hammer Strike nodded before reaching for his sword and holding it in front of himself point-down to function as a barrier.
Star Swirl nodded. “Whatever happens next, know that I wish you well, Hammer Strike. Go with Faust.”
The sensation of petrification was … unusual, to say the least, a curious combination of numbness that bordered on limbs falling asleep with just a hint of a warm bath followed by a rigid cold that seemed to freeze everything in place. And yet, by then the cold was neither painful nor unpleasant. It just … was. The foals shook at first, but being the smallest, they were the first to still, their rigid faces impossible to see beneath the two flyers’ wings as they gradually lost their mobility and flexibility. Black and blue merged into a muted gray like granite. Breathing slowed and stilled. Hearts beat desperately at first, but then with a dull sort of lassitude that crunched to a stop within their chests. Piercing orbs dulled their gaze as stone consumed the eyes, leaving only a facsimile of the life that once breathed there. As the last reaches of the spell reached the heroes’ heads, their ears swivelled at the sound of twin tones ringing in harmony as the princesses’ combined might was brought to bear against their enemy.
And then it was done. The five had completely converted into stone. As a final touch, Star Swirl approached the wings and gently tapped his horn between the feathers of the two protecting guardians to touch the tip of Bellacosa’s horn. “Until you wake, Hammer Strike,” Star Swirl said by way of farewell. “I doubt we will meet again, but thank you for trusting me.”
Then came the bright light of Celestia and Luna’s combined might unleashed, followed by a wrathful cry that spoke of an ominous revenge. What followed was beyond what anypony would have expected as the streets came alive with dark energy. Bolts of black leapt in arcs from the snowflake design of the street while the city let loose a sick chime. The few corrupted crystal guards that remained all opened their mouths and gasped out a great black miasma that mingled with a discordant note that the very buildings seemed to resonate with.
Star Swirl braced himself for the inevitable as Sombra’s failsafe activated. But rather than a great curse or some other attack, to his shock and dismay, the very ground beneath his feet flickered back and forth as the dark power grew. Then, finally, like a mirage, the city vanished, leaving the Unicorn standing alone in the star-shaped imprint where the empire had once been with his horn ignited.
He turned to look up as two very angry-looking Alicorns descended to face him.
“Oh, horse apples,” he swore.
Things were grim indeed in the future. Darkness clouded overhead. Shadow spread over the ground as dark magic reared its ugly head and caused black crystal formations to surge and spread over the streets, replacing plants and forming in patches along buildings. Crystal Ponies ran screaming in terror as their ancient enemy and former despot returned in strength. Cadance’s protective magic had failed at last, and the Alicorn of love now laid on the balcony in the embrace of her husband. Despite the mana he offered to supplement her own energy, they had failed. And now, it seemed that history would repeat itself once more.
In the castle above, jagged black formations jutted from the towers and along the base of the once-shining structure as a tiny purple form leaped from one jagged outcrop to another and began to descend a spiral along one of Sombra’s twisted creations.
“Up here!” Spike cried. “I got the crystal heart!”
In response to the declaration, a snarl of rage echoed from the shade below. “That is mine!” And like a shark churning the surface of the ocean, Sombra dove into the ground, leaving a dark patch behind as he surged toward the palace, a trail of jagged dark crystal rising in his wake.
As Spike raced down the spiral to try to reach the balcony, Sombra forced a massive growth of crystal to jut out of the ground and rise toward the young drake. Meanwhile, the tremor caused Spike to lose his footing, and he and the crystal heart both fell to drop toward the expectant tyrant.
On the balcony, Cadance stared at the artifact, and a blue spark reflected in her eyes as the crystal heart fell toward Sombra. Seeing this change in his wife, and sensing a subtle pulse of magic, the stallion lifted Cadance onto his back and drew her closer to the balcony’s edge.
Like a machine reacting to a signal, Cadance’s wings spread to their full length as her gaze fixed unerringly on the crystal heart. Its glow grew brighter and brighter as it fell, while the monstrous conversion of the castle was nearly complete with Sombra’s rapidly growing influence.
Spike covered his eyes as he continued to fall while Sombra’s shadowy shape was dispelled to reveal a corporeal Pony body. At the last moment, Spike turned and extended his hands to try to grab the crystal heart while Sombra licked his lips in anticipation of reclaiming the artifact he had stolen so very long ago.
Shining reared on his hind hooves, holding his wife with the strength of his forelegs alone while Cadance’s gaze narrowed with determination. With a mighty heave that seemed more suitable to an Earth Pony than a Unicorn, the princess was hurled aloft at a breakneck pace, catching Spike in the nick of time. And as she drew next to the crystal heart, its power flooded into her, restoring the exhausted reserve of mana and magic as its song sang through her very blood. Her cutie mark pulsed and thrummed with warmth as she flew over the crowd and finally settled defiantly and magnificently just outside the castle’s base.
A young voice proclaimed, “Behold, the Crystal Princess!” And like the flipping of a switch, the memories of the populace were snapped into place. Their beloved princess, the once tiny Pegasus, now stood before them as a fully mature Alicorn full of the same light, grace, and love that her mother bore before her.
Instinct guided the mare as she levitated the heart above her head and spoke. Though she did not shout, her voice thrummed through the very streets to every Crystal Pony, resonating with those closest and waiting to spread from there. “The crystal heart has returned. Use the light and love within you to ensure that King Sombra does not.” She cast the crystal to the center of the palace base, where the symbol of the snowflake came to life. Two crystal formations secured the artifact in place, and with it came the smiles of the Crystal Ponies at that glorious and most welcome sight.
Crystal coats flared into being as hope burned bright, rekindled with the return of their rightful ruler and the power of love that she wielded. One by one, each Crystal Pony bowed their heads to the ground, smiling all the while. And as each touched the streets, a familiar blue light emanated and pooled from them, flowing like water through a conduit until the entire city was flooded with the power from boundary to boundary along the roads. A giant snowflake with a star-like design was revealed in all its splendor surrounding the corrupted castle.
Then, in an instant, all of that energy surged back to the crystal heart, causing the artifact to spin faster and faster as the intensity of its light became blinding and its appearance little more than a blur. A great wave of blue light surged exultantly from the heart, destroying and shattering the smaller black crystal formations while pulsing blue cracks surged and spread across the larger ones. Brighter and brighter it became. Farther and farther it spread. Until, finally, those cracks surged along Sombra’s body itself.
The wicked despot shielded his eyes from the blast, only to stare in disbelief at the cracks that seeped through his very being. The cry that he unleashed was a mixture of disbelief, dismay, and utter agony as the full might of the Crystal Empire was brought to bear against him, shattering his body and his crystals into so many pieces and flinging them far beyond the reach of the empire and its shockwave. The tower at the top of the castle glowed brightly in its newly restored state as the energies gathered once more to channel up the structure and finally release in a mighty explosion of white light that burst above them, dispelling the last of the dark clouds and restoring the ribbons of multicolored light to spread all across Equestria.
The dark lord was vanquished at last. And with his destruction, the ascension of the new queen was assured. Cadance flew up to the balcony to join her beloved as they waved triumphantly to the crowd with Spike in tow. All of the Crystal Empire cheered at their newly regained freedom. The nightmare was over.
Down in the courtyard below, a cracking of another kind was taking place. A certain statue of three familiar figures pulsed and thrummed as light flooded from between the petrified wings of the Gryphon and Pegasus. From there, the cracks spread, consuming the two guardians, then finally reaching the Earth Pony at the front of the display. The cracks that formed there caused steam to burst forth in the cold air. The environmental controls had yet to fully restore themselves with the heart’s return. Finally, with a great surge, a shower of stone shard debris burst off the Earth Pony, and he shook himself free before yanking his hooves off the base and raising his newly released sword to rest on his shoulder. He blinked at the radiant display above, then took in the crystal-coated Ponies. These were the people he remembered before Sombra made his move. A weak smile pulled at his face as he drank that sight in.
“One thousand years will give you such a crick in the neck!” He gave off a soft chuckle before exhaling. “Still worn out,” he muttered.
More stone sloughed off from behind and clattered to the ground. “Well, at least I can breathe without it hurting,” Grif commented weakly as he rose, then buckled to a knee. There was the sound like breaking glass as black shards of crystal cracked and broke off the coating on his arm, dissolving into mist as they did until the arm was once again free of the corrupted material.
“We’re still getting you checked out by a medic,” Pensword said stubbornly. “And I don’t want any arguments about it.”
“Yeah, that’s an order,” Cosy piped in, followed by Alto squeezing the Gryphon’s leg.
“Giving orders now, are we?” Pensword teased.
Cosy sniffed. “I’m the prince. I can order if I want.”
Pensword chuckled. “Judging by the light show overhead, I’m guessing we made it? Twilight saved the day again?”
“So it would seem. Though we didn’t get to see much, given our current angle,” Hammer Strike replied. “That, and I probably blocked your view a little.”
Pensword chuckled. “Funny, Hammer Strike. Or should I say m’lord?” he asked with a smirk.
Hammer Strike hummed questioningly as he glanced to Pensword.
“You do have a title,” he reminded the stallion.
“I was more referring to the ‘funny’ part, though I’m sure you have my response to the title in mind.”
“I am supposed to be a commander, after all. We plan for every eventuality.”
“Yeah, well I’m supposed to be an ultra dangerous assassin, and I’m tired,” Grif said. “Let’s head for the palace.”
“Indeed,” Hammer Strike sighed. “Come along, Alto, Cosy. You’re due for a reunion.”
“We’re gonna see Cady?” Alto beamed.
“In the flesh. Let’s just say that she’s done a lot of growing up,” Pensword said with a smile. “I wouldn’t want to spoil the surprise.”
When they arrived in the throne room, the murmured whispers of the townsfolk preceded them. The glory of the throne room was the same as they remembered it. Light and color fluctuated in prismatic ecstasy at the return of the Crystal Queen. Twilight and her friends were all assembled with Shining Armor and Cadance to greet them, and Pensword gaped at the Ponies.
“Did everyone get an upgrade but us?” he asked.
“They’re alive!” Rainbow Dash cheered and rushed up to the trio to offer each of them a hug. “We thought we’d lost you after Sombra attacked.”
“Are you all right, darlings?” Rarity asked, concerned.
“We’re exhausted, but for the most part, fine,” Hammer Strike spoke up. “It’s been some time for us, however. The simplest way I can explain it would be that Sombra sought to remove us from here, and chose to fling us to a different point in time.”
“We had to come back the long way round, with some help from Star Swirl the Bearded,” Pensword said.
“You got to meet Star Swirl in the flesh?” Twilight lit up with excitement at the statement.
“Yes, but that discussion can come another time.” Hammer Strike sighed. “Right now, we have one last important task to attend to,” he remarked, looking towards the others. “Alto, Cosy, why don’t you go greet your sister? I’m sure she’s waited long enough.” He gave a soft smile.
Cadance cocked her head in confusion as she looked first at the foals, then at Hammer Strike. “Sister?” she questioned.
“Let’s just say there’s a reason that you were left in a forest to be adopted by a small village and raised to ascend to your current state, Your Highness. Or should I say Your Majesty now?” Pensword smiled forlornly as he gazed at the mare. “Let them embrace you. The rest of it should come pretty quickly after that.”
“Pensword, I … don’t know if that’s—” Cadance winced in pain as the foals drew closer to her.
“Cady? Is that really you?” Cosy asked.
Pensword gave the two foals a nudge. “I promise you, she’s your sister,” he assured them. “Go on. She needs your help to remember. And more importantly, to deal with what she couldn’t when we were in the bunker together.” He gave them a gentle push with his wings. The two foals looked nervously back at him, then finally at the Alicorn that stood before them. “Her head’s going to hurt until she remembers. You two are the key.”
“Can I … take off my armor?” Cosy asked.
“If you wish.”
With the Pegasus’ help, Cosy was soon free of the armor and joined his younger sister as they walked side-by-side toward the throne.
“We liked to play together in the halls. Hide and seek would make all our guards mad, especially when we didn’t tell them we were playing,” Cosy said helpfully.
“And … you had us sneak into the dining hall to see Hammer Strike when he came,” Alto offered from behind her toy as she held it close.
“You used to feel left out when we had to go to magic class, and we’d always miss you and tackle you to play when we were done,” Cosy added with a soft smile.
Tears were trickling down Cadance’s cheeks as the pain throbbed like hammer blows with each consecutive comment about their lives before she’d been taken to the future. Pranks, sleepovers, classes, and most importantly, their mother.
“They’re hurting her,” Shining said as he prepared to intercept.
“You will stay where you are and let things run their course,” Hammer Strike spoke up. “I assure you, you will regret it if you try anything.”
“It will pass,” Pensword assured, both to Shining Armor and to the foals. “Until she remembers, she won’t be able to rule as the queen the empire needs. Touch her,” he urged the foals.
When the pair finally did as they were bidden, Cadance’s eyes blazed white as she cried aloud and a great shockwave of blue energy erupted from her horn and channelled into the walls of the throne room to surge along tiny angular paths and pools until it finally dissipated. When the mare opened her eyes again, two tearful foals looked up at her with fear and concern.
“Cady?” Cosy asked again.
The tears flowed freely as the sorrow of loss stabbed anew with the overwhelming relief and joy at having a loved one restored. Her great wings extended to fold either foal in their embrace as she spoke with trembling voice. “Thank goodness you’re safe.”
Then Cosy’s lips began to wobble. Alto’s face flooded with tears. Finally, the room filled with the wailing sobs of those who had survived a mutual trauma together and finally reached a proper resolution. Or at least the beginning of one.”
Hammer Strike sighed. “Get somewhere for Grif to rest and I’ll explain what I can.”
“Yeah, that would be appreciated,” Grif grunted. He looked to Shining Armor. “I'll humbly surrender the defense of the empire and its Ponies to you. Let’s hope you are more successful at it.”
“Nopony was prepared for Sombra, Grif,” Shining said. “But I will accept that mantle. If I can keep the guard in line in Canterlot, then I can make sure to keep things here just as organized.”
The events that followed were mixed, to say the least. While the tyrant had finally been vanquished, there were still scars that needed to be tended to. Many dead would need to be mourned, and there was still the matter of recovering those who had survived the gruesome attacks in the caverns below. The recovery would not be an easy one, but it was possible. And now they had a beacon of love to light their way along that path with a queen who not only would keep that light burning, but walk the path with them.
As ordered, Grif was escorted to quarters where he could rest and recuperate from his exertions. Meanwhile, Hammer Strike and Pensword provided a general explanation for the events that had come to pass in the recent past and the ancient, though the two felt reversed to the heroes.
“As such, for you, it may have been just hours since we last talked, but for us, it’s been a lot longer,” Hammer Strike concluded.
“Then, … you’re not really Hammer Strike and Pensword?” Cosy asked.
“I honestly don’t know. While we are Hammer Strike and Pensword, I find it unlikely we’re them.” Hammer Strike shrugged.
Cosy frowned. “But how does that work?”
“It’s been over a thousand years, Cosy,” Cadance said gently. “Those names could easily have been given any number of times over the generations since the war.”
“That doesn’t change how you feel about us, does it?” Pensword asked of the colt.
“I … guess not,” Cosy said as he frowned. “But why did Star Swirl lie about you?”
“Because we told him about what was coming, and we planned accordingly. We didn’t have the ability to stop what Sombra did, but we could act to minimize the damage, protect what we could of a free Crystal Empire until he could be stopped,” Pensword explained.
“You know, the kingdom will be in a complete uproar over you three when things settle down again,” Cadance pointed out. “You’ve done the empire a great service. And for that, we are all in your debt.”
“We simply did all we could.” Hammer Strike shook his head.
“And that is why your service should be commended all the more. You three and Spike for delivering the heart out of Sombra’s clutches and back into the possession of the royal family.”
“In either case, that’s everything. I believe I speak for all three of us when I say that once things are truly stable here, we’ll be returning with the others. Celestia and Luna certainly have some questions to answer after everything that has occurred.”
“I don’t know if they’ll be willing to give you the answers, though,” Cadance pointed out. “As for your other purpose here, I think you’ll be free to pursue it soon enough.”
“I’ll be honest with you, Cadance. I don’t even remember what we came here for,” Hammer Strike replied with a shrug. “And honestly? I’d rather try to get what answers I can from them beforehand.”
“... If that’s what you really want. I’d say you more than earned the right to demand it in this case.” Cadance nodded. “Are you sure you don’t want to take a rest, too, Hammer Strike?”
“I’ll get my rest when the time is right. You don’t need to worry.” He gave a soft smile in return.
“Aren’t we supposed to worry about the people we love, though?” Alto asked.
Hammer Strike chuckled. “I suppose.”
“Then it’s settled. You’ll all rest and recuperate. Then, when you’ve had time to recover, we’ll hold a proper celebration. The crystal fair is supposed to be a lot of fun, and it would be a shame to put all the effort Twilight and her friends made to waste.” Cadance smiled mischievously. “Besides, we never did get to have a proper playdate with you three.”
“I suppose we can make some time in our busy schedule.” He gave another soft chuckle.
“We can actually go out into the city now?” Cosy asked.
Cadance smiled. “Now that the danger is past, yes. And you won’t even have to have a guard following you around.”
Cosy grinned wide at the thought of that.
“I hope you’re ready to handle the havoc you’re about to unleash on the city,” Pensword said with a chuckle. “You three were quite the handful before. And two of you haven’t changed all that much.”
“I think we can manage,” Cadance said with a loving smile.
Hammer Strike hummed to himself as he looked over the three. “Hopefully the guard’s prepared.”
With their princess returned and the mighty heroes hailed into glory, the people of the Crystal Empire were much gladder of heart. Foals laughed and ran with grins on their faces as they jumped between face painting, carnival games, and watching the jousts. Rarity’s flare for creativity and style sprang forth anew as she designed a multitude of hats for Ponies to try. Aplejack worked hoof in hoof with the other farmers and bakers of the empire to produce delectable treats that hadn’t been seen or heard of in Equestria for centuries. Rainbow Dash took great pleasure in racing and jousting with the more experienced competitors. Fluttershy spoke with what animals remained in the empire. And Pinkie Pie, well … she was PInkie Pie. Most people just tried to steer clear of her when she blew on the flugelhorn.
Twilight was full of questions and suspicions, but the gentle urgings from cadance were enough to keep the mare from pushing too hard about what had transpired. After all, Cadance was her sister as well as the queen.
Hammer Strike was busy flinging balls up a track to leap through a series of rings and try to land the biggest point value. Strangely enough, he kept landing the ball in the highest value target.
“Not a bad technique,” a familiar voice said. “I’d almost call it flawless.”
Hammer Strike jerked in surprise, causing his aim to go awry. The increased force that his adrenaline put into the throw caused the ball to rebound and ricochet off of stall walls, display legs, and even a large cloth that spread like a parachute for the foals to play around with. That snapping flick of the raised cloth sent the ball sailing through the air to fall directly into the center of the target again, leaving the stall owner to gape in utter disbelief.
After a moment, Hammer Strike finally turned to look Critical Flaw in the face. Letting out a sigh of relief, he gave a smile. “It’s good to see you.”
“I see you didn’t die,” Critical Flaw said casually. “Good to know you’re still good for your word.”
“What? You had your doubts?” Hammer Strike chuckled faintly.
“More I know your flaw. That’s my special talent, remember?”
“Now the question is, which flaw? I’ve got plenty.”
“The one where you will do anything and everything to protect the ones you care about, no matter what it does to you.”
“I’d call it a trait more than a flaw.” He shrugged. “It worked out in the end, so that’s all that matters to me.”
“Funny thing about traits is they often turn out to be both the best asset and the greatest flaws. Sometimes at the same time.” Critical Flaw shrugged. “But I guess the point is moot for now. It all worked out. And hopefully, the queen is looking down and watching her daughter from the Elysium Fields.”
“I’m sure she is.”
Critical Flaw sighed. “When Sombra cast that spell, it felt like … like something had gotten inside of me, as if it were trying to rewrite me entirely, my memories, my personality, all of it.” He shuddered. “I don’t ever want to feel like that again.”
“Hopefully, that shouldn’t happen again. Now, it’s just a matter of adjusting to where you have landed.”
“Oh, the where is still the same.” The guard chuckled ruefully. “The when, however, … that will take some getting used to.”
“And what of you?” Critical Flaw asked as he analyzed the game.
“Once the festival is over, I will be returning with the others to question Celestia and Luna about certain bits of knowledge.”
He chuckled. “I’d tell you that’s foolish, but I actually don’t see that working out as a flaw for you this time.”
“We’ll see how it goes when the time comes. Until then, I’d say celebrate. You’ve more than earned it.”
“Perhaps.” He sighed. “I just wish we didn’t have to lose so many in the process.”
Hammer Strike let out a soft sigh. “It’s the nature of war. We simply do what we can to move on. Once everything has settled, we can at least celebrate for those who can not. For the goal has been reached.”
“Wise words.” Critical Flaw smiled weakly. “I suppose I should see about offering my services to the new queen, then. My oath is already hers, but my talent might help her to avoid certain mistakes as she gets used to ruling.”
“I’m sure she’d be glad to have you.”
“Do you intend to return to the empire again in the future?”
“I’m sure I will.” Hammer Strike nodded.
“Then I suppose it won’t be goodbye, so much as until next time.” This time, the smile was a little less forced. “I like that thought.” He picked up a ball. “But for now, perhaps you would like to play against me?” he offered as he easily bowled the ball down the lane and plopped it into the center target. “I think you’ll find I may give you a proper challenge.”
The two played on for some time together, racing neck and neck and matching hole for hole until a tiny twist of fate led to a bounce off the rim, and Critical Flaw at last found himself defeated. “You’re as good as the legends say,” the stallion congratulated.
“I’d say it’s more luck than anything, but that was a good game.”
“And very well fought,” a posh feminine voice interjected. Rarity fixed the pair with a radiant smile as she tossed her mane. Though the crystal coat had faded, her natural beauty still shone through, along with the delicate scent of perfume as she looked over the stallions. “Fancy meeting you here, Lord Hammer Strike. I never realized you were one for games. Then again, we haven’t had much time to get to know one another properly, have we?”
Hammer Strike chuckled. “Indeed. Though, Cadance was very adamant that I take some time to enjoy the festival in its entirety. It’s good to see you again.”
“I think I’ll take my leave to give you two some time. There are others I need to visit before I report to the queen,” Critical Flaw said. Then he bowed his head. “It’s been an honor, Hammer Strike.”
“Until next time.” Hammer Strike nodded.
“A friend of yours?” Rarity asked.
“Yes. Alongside many of the guard here, we fought against Sombra through all means available to us.”
“And you were able to hold off against his dark magic all by yourselves until Celestia and Luna came?”
“Star Swirl proved quite helpful with that.” Hammer Strike gave a soft smile. “It was hard fought, but we made it here in the end.”
“And were it not for your valiant efforts, we might not have had a Crystal Empire to save in the first place, would we?”
“I’m sure they would have figured something out and managed.” He shook his head.
“Modest and generous. That’s quite a combination, you know.”
He gave another soft chuckle. “In any case, how is the festival treating you?”
Rarity sighed in relief. “Much better, now that I’m off hat-making duty. Do you have any idea how difficult it is to keep designing new and unique chapeaus out of nothing but straw? I mean, I made them fabulous, but the work was … less than desirable by the end, what with Sombra’s returning and all.”
“I’d believe it. But, you all managed just fine, and restored everything to its place.”
“We have Twilight and Spike to thank for that. All we did was try to keep the population calm.”
“And we were awesome!” Rainbow Dash crowed as she flew onto the scene trailing rainbow streaks behind her.
Twilight and Spike soon followed behind. “Everypony wants to congratulate us. I don’t think I’ve ever had this much attention in my whole life,” Spike said as he sighed in exhaustion.
“It’s certainly an interesting experience.” Hammer Strike chuckled. “Having fun with the festival at least?”
“How can I not with so many gems around? It’s like I’m in a candy store!” Spike grinned at Hammer Strike.
“And I have to make sure he doesn’t eat too much,” Twilight moaned.
“It certainly sounds like you have your work cut out for you.” Hammer Strike looked to Twilight.
“At least it’s not like the night Spike ate himself sick on ice cream.”
“Oh, yeah, that’s right, Twilight’s done time travel, too. What was it like for you, Hammer Strike? Going back, I mean.”
“I was knocked unconscious by the magic Sombra used on us. When I came to, Grif and Pensword had apparently dragged me to the Crystal Empire and got us a room to stay in.” Hammer Strike frowned in thought.
“So you don’t know what it was like?”
“I’m more aware of the experience of traveling back to the present, given I was actually still aware in said petrified state.”
“Were the others?” Twilight asked.
“From what I’ve gathered, no. I’m not entirely sure why, but it seems like it was just myself.”
“That’s odd. Star Swirl was an incredibly meticulous sorcerer. Why would he leave you aware while everyone else wasn’t?” Twilight asked as she rubbed her chin in thought.
“Whatever his reasoning was, it was … strange, to say the least.” Hammer Strike frowned as he placed a hoof on his chest. “Fighting your instincts in particular is the difficult part. Your brain tells you to breathe, but you don’t need to, and can’t either.”
“How did you cope with it?”
“Honestly, I couldn’t tell you. The first few days were mostly just me trying to keep myself together and worrying about the others. After a week, I … suppose I started to grow numb to the notion. My anxieties were mute by that point, and I had settled my instincts.”
“But you still heard and saw everything?”
“Yes.”
“That … is incredibly disturbing. If Sombra’s spell had only hidden the city somewhere else, maybe placed it in some kind of pocket dimension instead of hurling it through time….” Twilight shuddered.
“I would have been stuck in that state for much, much longer. Yes. I thought over the same possibility as well.” Hammer Strike looked to Twilight. “Thankfully, that was not the case. Otherwise, I don’t know what I would be like coming out of that.”
“It’s … probably better not to think about it,” she agreed. “Spike wanted to try some of the games, since he didn't get the chance when we were looking for the crystal heart. Do you have any suggestions?”
Hammer Strike hummed in thought. “Perhaps one of the accuracy-based games would be good.”
“No arrows. Spike’s still too young for that.”
“Twilight,” Spike cried. “Not in front of everypony….”
Hammer Strike gave a soft chuckle. “There is more than just archery in terms of accuracy-based games.”
“Yeah. Like ring toss or ball throwing!” Rainbow enthused. “I should know. I helped set them up myself.”
“What game do you think will be the most fun, then?” Spike asked.
“Balance beam fight!” Pinkie Pie screamed suddenly from behind, causing all of them to jump. Rarity let out a girlish scream as her mane and tail bristled briefly before resuming their usual appearance.
“Pinkie!” Twilight chided.
Pinkie giggled. “Sorry. I couldn’t help myself.” She shoved a padded helmet and protective vest on Spike’s head and torso, then grinned as she placed a smaller staff with two padded mallets, one on either end, in front of the young dragon. “I never leave home without a few good party favors and games.”
“Um … I’m not sure if this is going to be a game I like … or even can do,” Spike said as his tiny arms flailed in the confines of the vest’s holes. It didn’t take long for him to fall over and rock like a turtle stuck on its shell. “Uh, … a little help?”
Twilight sighed and levitated Spike back onto his feet, then removed the gear Pinkie had placed on him. “Maybe when he’s a little bigger, Pinkie.”
“And maybe a little braver,” Spike muttered to himself as he rubbed his newly-freed arm.
“Step by step.” Hammer Strike gave a soft chuckle.
“I’ve got some more questions for you, Hammer Strike, but I’m guessing those may have to wait for a while,” Twilight said with a reluctant sigh.
“Enjoy the festival while it is around. You can talk with me later, once everything has calmed down.”
Twilight nodded. “I could use something to distract me on the way back to Canterlot,” she agreed.
Spike was quick to yank at Twilight. “Well, anyway, we’ve got tons of games to play and prizes to win, so bye!”
Rarity’s eyes watered slightly as she watched Spike drag the mare away, touched by the real intent behind the young dragon’s insistence. “Aw, Spikey Wikey….”
Grif darted through the sky quickly, his wings flapping as the air stung and buffeted him. Despite that, flying was one of the few comforts he’d had during the month-long rebellion against sombra. Even now, the sensation of the air flowing around him helped to calm his nerves as he scanned the stalls below until he found the one he was looking for. The stand was a simple wooden structure with a portable heater and a large pot of bubbling berry syrup. Pinkie had managed to get everything he needed, and it made him smile as he landed and laid out his cargo across the front. A large tray enchanted to keep what was inside it cool awaited, and he opened it with an almost eager grin to reveal simple pure white snow. Opening a pot, he took a long sniff of the fruity aroma before he filled the ladle and began to measure out small lines of syrup in the snow. Then, taking some small wooden sticks, he stuck the end in the jelling syrup and began to roll them around it. Then, he waited, sure the sweet smell would be like a siren call to younger ponies.
It didn’t take long for curious Ponies to arrive. It took a shorter time still for word to spread of the delectable treat. Soon, the Gryphon was serving as fast as he could to the many customers that wanted to try the mysterious new snack.
Grif Smiled to himself as he did his best to keep up. “Don’t worry. There should be enough for everyone,” he promised the crowd as he worked.
“Hello, Grif. I’m glad to see that you’ve recovered so well,” Cadance greeted with a warm smile, even as excited whispers passed through the gathered crowd. Bellacosa and Alto flanked the mare on either side while Shining Armor smiled at them.
“Good afternoon, Princess.” Grif gave her a small bow of the head as he handed his treat first off to the two foals, then the princess and Shining Armor. “And recovered may yet be a strong word,” he admitted. “But I’m alive.”
Cadance frowned. “Then why are you out here working a stand? If you don’t feel well, you shouldn’t be straining yourself.”
Grif smiled as he pointed to a few laughing foals. “Best medicine there is.”
“You promise you won’t overexert yourself?”
“Won’t even think about it.”
“Why do I get the feeling that’s not entirely true?” Cadance asked with a gentle smile.
“Princesses, right now I need to be around happy people,” Grif told her seriously. “I need to see at least some happiness in this place.”
“And I never said you shouldn’t Grif. But I see my banter may have gone a little too far.”
“How do you get it so gummy and runny at the same time?” Bellacosa asked. “It’s like caramel, but … not.”
“Where I come from, this is usually done using a syrup made from the sap of the maple tree,” Grif explained.
“What’s a maple tree?” Cosy asked.
“It’s a type of tree that grows in Equestria and my homeland. Its sap makes a great syrup for pancakes, as well as flavoring.”
“All we have up here is berries.” Cosy frowned. “Do you think you can show one to us one day, Mister Grif?”
Grif smiled at Bellacosa. “I promise.”
“And you’ll come back to visit?” Alto asked.
“Definitely.” Grif smirked. “Someone’s gotta make sure you guys grow up strong.” He winked.
“We have a few ideas about that,” Cadance promised.
“Good to hear,” Grif said
“Will you three be going back with the others, or do you plan to stay a little longer?” Shining Armor asked.
“That's Hammer Strike’s choice,” Grif said.
“Can we get a ride on your back when you’re done today?” Cosy asked.
Grif chuckled and nodded. “Sure.”
Both foals beamed with excitement.
Cadance shook her head and smiled lovingly. “Those are my siblings, all right.”
Shining chuckled. “So, is that how you used to be when you were little, too?”
Cadance kissed Shining and smirked mischievously. “No comment.”
The council chamber where the six friends had planned the Crystal Fair was no different than before. Its walls were still tall. Its table was still round. But there did seem to be at least one subtle difference. The whole structure seemed to hum with the magic of the crystal heart. And that, in turn, seemed to fill the air with a sense of abiding love and peace. It was the perfect place to hold a meeting away from the hustle and bustle of the city.
“Well, we made it. It was tough going, and Sombra neary succeeded, but it all turned out right in the end,” Twilight said. “I just wanted to say thank you, girls. Without your help, we might not have even had enough time to find the heart in the first place before Sombra broke through.”
“Now that’s a load of hogwash,” Applejack insisted. “You would’ve found the heart, no matter what. And it was Princess Cadance who held the barrier. We just did our best to keep everyone’s spirits up.”
“And it was very brave of Spike to deliver the heart at the last moment,” Rarity agreed.
“Speaking of deliveries,” Rainbow Dash said, “Is it just me, or did I see a little something going on between you and Hammer Strike?”
“Rainbow Dash! I assure I haven’t the faintest idea what you mean,” Rarity insisted in a manner that was far too dramatic.
“Eeeeyup, she’s lyin’,” Applejack confirmed.
Rarity gaped askance at the farm Pony.
“It’s okay to admit if you like somepony, Rarity,” Fluttershy said gently.
“A lady doesn’t divulge the secrets of her love life so easily, Fluttershy.”
“Aha! So you do like him. You just said it!” Rainbow Dash crowed.
Rarity blushed.
“Ooh, ooh, ooh! Want me to throw a party? I can make it suuuuuper romantic!” Pinkie Pie said with an impossibly wide grin.
“Girls, I know it’s normal to tease friends, but Rarity only just met Hammer Strike. Isn’t it a little early to talk about this kind of thing when she’s only just starting to make friends with him?” Twilight asked.
“Yes, quite,” Rarity agreed. So, if we could kindly let the topic drop, I would most definitely appreciate it.”
“I don’t know,” Rainbow said. “The chance at teasing is pretty high….”
“And so are the chances of my giving your wonderbolt costume a simply fabulous makeover,” Rarity said. Her appearance was perfectly demure, but the implied threat hovered like electricity in a thundercloud.
“On second thought, maybe we should drop it,” Rainbow said with a nervous chuckle.
“Aww, I wanted to see Rainbow in frills,” Pinkie pouted.
“You what?” Rainbow balked.
“Don’t worry about it. It’s not happening in this timeline, and Hammer Strike and the others made sure to fix it all so the universe doesn’t have to end, so you wouldn’t remember it, even if it did happen.”
“Pinkie!” Twilight cried in exasperation.
“Yes, Twilight?”
“Please don’t give me another puzzle to try to wrap my head around. I really don’t need the anxiety right now.”
“Okie dokie lokie!” Pinkie Pie saluted, then proceeded to pass around a series of muffins. “Oh, and the really nice time lady asked me to give these to you. They’re really good.”
“You ate most of the basket yourself, didn’t you, sugarcube?” Applejack deadpanned as she contemplated her muffin, a sweet apple cinnamon streusel with just a hint of cider.
“Yup! That’s how I know they’re all soooooo yummy!”
And like that, reality returned to normal, and as is always the rule with Pinkie PIe, nopony questioned it. Though she did wink randomly to no one in particular as her friends ate their muffins, which each seemed perfectly flavored to their exclusive tastes and palates.
“So, uh, … Cadance being the lost princess for the empire. Who knew, right?” Spike asked as he chomped his gem-stuffed muffin. For some reason, what Pinkie had just done made his scales itch.
“Nopony could have known, Spike. All records of the empire were practically nonexistent until Princess Celestia received word of its return. It’s possible she may have removed the knowledge of it to protect the populace from Sombra’s shade. You saw what his power did to Grif,” Twilight said.
“Though I suppose the talk of the use of light and love might have been a clue,” Rarity admitted. “After all, love is her specialty.”
“Not to mention the big crystal heart on her flanks,” Rainbow Dash added.
“Do you think maybe … someone made it so we couldn’t make that connection?” Fluttershy asked softly. “I mean, we all usually see these kinds of things sooner.”
“But who would have that kind of power? If it were a spell, I would have felt it and countered it,” Twilight pointed out. “What else is there?”
The rest of the party shrugged.
“Still, I guess that makes you the sister to a queen now. Ain’t been one of those in Equestria for who knows how long,” Applejack said.
“Not since the time of Princess Platinum,” Rarity noted. “I had the opportunity to study her history extensively in preparation for the Hearth’s Warming play.”
“That’s well over a thousand years ago,” Twilight said. Then she frowned. “Do you really think it’ll make that much difference? I’m still the same Pony, and I really don’t want to get involved in politics.”
“We certainly have enough on our plates dealing with friendship problems and saving the kingdom, wouldn’t you say?” Rarity asked with a playful smile.
“Hear hear!” Applejack agreed. “I want to make a toast. Anypony got something to drink?”
The others shook their heads.
“Well, I’ll just use this, then,” She said, raising the last bite of her muffin aloft. “To us and the ties that bind. Our friendship got us past Nightmare Moon, sealed Discord away, and now we’ve brought back one of Equestria’s best allies. I’m not saying I want any more big adventures to save the world, but I hope our friendship keeps us strong, no matter what life throws at us. No matter what happens, no matter how hard life hits us, let’s make a promise here and now to be there for each other to the very end. Who’s with me?”
The room resounded with the enthusiastic agreement of the remaining mares and Dragon as they partook of the last of their morsels and basked in the warmth of a job well done and those bonds that had just grown stronger as a result of the test they had faced together.
“Well then,” Grif yawned as they loaded their things onto the train. “It will be good to get back after that.”
“I can agree with that,” Hammer Strike replied.
“You can agree with that after it’s already after that?” Pensword asked with a smirk. “What a twist.”
“Was that … Pinkie logic?” Twilight asked as she turned to look at the Pegasus.
Pensword shook his head. “Just having a little fun with friends is all. From what I’ve seen of Miss Pie, I don’t think I could handle her logic.”
“Thank you.” Pinkie giggled suddenly from behind the Pegasus, prompting him to leap into the air and flap clumsily before falling roughly onto the floor again.
“Ow….”
Pinkie giggled, and Rainbow Dash snickered as she struggled to contain the laughter wanting to burst out.
“My goodness. Are you all right?” Rarity asked of the stallion.
“I’ll be fine. Pegasi are surprisingly resilient,” Pensword said. “Just … give me a minute to gather my thoughts. Miss Pie sent them … pretty much everywhere.”
“Yeah, that’s Pinkie Pie all right,” Twilight sighed.
“Y’all ready to head on back now?” Applejack asked.
“After some proper goodbyes,” a familiar voice said as Shining armor approached the station with Cadance and the foals in tow.
“Ah, you managed to escape your new subjects.” Hammer Strike gave a faint chuckle.
“They’re not that hard to convince when a queen is executing her duties to send off the heroes of the empire,” Cadance with a playful smile.
“Hey, Bellacosa, come here for a minute,” Grif signaled the colt over.
“What is it, Grif?” Cosy asked.
“You did well in a bad situation, and you listened to what others told you. Keep that mindset up, and trust those instincts. They’ll serve you well.” Grif pulled out one of the feather-shaped blades he’d been given. This one was held in its own leather sheath. “This is not a toy,” he warned the colt as he held it out to him.
Cosy took it gingerly and nodded. “I know….”
Pink wings were there before any words could be said. “We’ll make sure he knows how to use it if he needs to,” she promised. “Though I hope he never does again.”
“That will likely be up to fate to decide,” Pensword said. “But for what it’s worth, I hope so, too.” He crouched down to the foal’s level and rustled his mane. “But if it does, just think of the people you love. That will be your strength.”
Cosy sniffled. “Thank you. Both of you.”
Grif turned to Alto slowly. “Support your brother and sister. Always remember how important family is, and do your best to make sure they can do their best,” he told the filly with a gentle pat on the head.
“I’m sure they’ll both be quite supportive to their sister,” Hammer Strike gave a soft chuckle. “But, it will come in time.”
“There’s a lot we have to do, now that the kingdom is restored again,” Cadance said. “But we promise we’ll stay in touch with all of you.” She smiled as tears brimmed in her eyes. “After all, you three are some of the closest things we have to our old family left. And we don’t abandon family.”
“Cadance, do you need us to stay a little longer?” Twilight asked as she looked on her former sitter with concern.
Cadance shook her head. “No, Twilight, we’ll be fine. You need to return to Canterlot. Aunt Celestia and Aunt Luna will be waiting for your report.”
At that, Twilight frowned. “I don’t think they’ll like what they’re going to hear.”
Cadance knelt and raised Twilight’s chin to look her in the eyes. “If they don’t, then they have no idea how brave and kind you really are. You and your friends saved our empire, Twilight. And if Aunt Celestia can’t see how miraculous that was, then she doesn’t deserve you as her student.”
“Cadance!” Twilight balked.
Cadance rose to her hooves. “I meant what I said, Twilight. In my eyes and the eyes of my people, you passed with flying colors. And I want you to remember that, even if others say otherwise. Promise me.”
Twilight averted her gaze. “I don’t know….”
“Promise me, Twilight,” Cadance insisted.
“Ooh! Ooh, ooh, ooh! Pinkie promise. Pinkie promise!” Pinkie cried exultantly as she bounced in place.
“But—”
“Twily,” Shining said gently, “she’s right. Make the promise. It won’t hurt you.”
“But what if I can’t keep it?”
“Nobody breaks a Pinkie Promise,” Pinkie sang as she grinned at her friend.
“Pinkie, you know that’s not true,” Twilight said as she drooped.
“Twilight, we’re your friends. And no matter what happens, that will never change,” Rarity said.
“Celestia’s gonna treat you right. You’ll see,” Applejack agreed.
“We’re all proud of you, Twilight,” Fluttershy said. “Shouldn’t you be proud of yourself, too?”
Unshed tears shone in Twilight’s eyes. “Girls….”
The mares and Spike all rushed in to hug the mare, even as Rarity’s recovered luggage fell to the station’s floor with a heavy THWUMP!
Hammer Strike smiled softly. “Shall we, then?”
The sound of six voices singing in chorus resonated beyond the windows of Canterlot Castle as Twilight and her friends pranced away toward the train station and the inevitable return to Ponyville. The three friends looked on the door where Twilight had pranced so gleefully.
“I don’t think I’ll ever understand the whole ‘heart song’ thing, or whatever they call it,” Hammer Strike muttered.
“Yeah, it’s kinda weird,” Grif said.
“Come on. Didn’t you guys ever want to sing along at least once with all the music they’ve made?” Pensword asked.
“I’m not really a singing kind of person.” Hammer Strike shook his head.
“I mean, it doesn’t even feel realistic.” Grif shrugged. “People don’t randomly break into song and dance.”
“They do here. It’s a common extension of magic, and often serves to bolster one’s natural abilities,” Celestia noted. “It’s an exceptionally powerful tool when used properly.”
“In any case, we have more pressing matters to attend to.” Hammer Strike looked to Celestia. “Given the state of events that ‘recently’ occurred.”
“You found Star Swirl’s lab, then?” Celestia asked.
“A little more than that,” Grif groaned.
“Oh?” Luna raised an eyebrow. “It sounds like there is a story behind that.”
“If this is an act, you’ll find I’m not in a pleasant mood,” Hammer Strike replied flatly. “Having been displaced in time to Sombra’s uprising and fighting for our lives, in unfamiliar bodies mind you, wasn’t exactly leading to a pleasant experience.”
“The almost dying wasn’t great either,” Grif commented.
“Particularly given the fact that a certain time traveler was involved,” Pensword added. “I think it’s time we put our cards on the table. You knew exactly what you were sending us into, or at least you suspected it, didn’t you?” Pensword asked.
I
“Would it matter if we did?” Celestia asked. “If you know about said time traveler, then you know we can’t interfere with the workings of said time travel.”
“And just like that, I hate time travel again,” Pensword muttered.
“Okay,” Grif growled before he walked right up to Celestia and locked eyes with her. “Listen, Sunbutt. Your little ponies may be okay with the whole ‘chessmaster’ thing, but we aren't your pawns. You sent us into a trap. We nearly died. Ponies did die. You want to make your power plays, fine, but make them without us. Got it?”
There was silence for a long cold moment before Luna burst out laughing.
“Care to let us in on the joke, Princess?” Pensword asked.
“Sunbutt. That’s exactly what he’d have said to her. He called her that several times to her face.”
“I assume you’re referring to the ‘heroes’ who we look like,” Hammer Strike noted flatly.
“Grif Grafson Bladefeather,” Luna slowly worked to get control of herself, “was a proud warrior and a gifted spy. He was also impertinent to a fault, and he and Celestia never saw eye to eye about things like this.” She calmed herself. “He noted that respect was earned, not given freely. And the only person with a title who commanded his respect was Lord Hammer Strike himself.”
Grif looked to Hammer Strike with a raised eyebrow.
“Just … what the hell is all of this?” Hammer Strike sighed. “First, you send us into a literal warzone, we look like notable figures from the history of your nation, and you can’t give us straight answers. Hell, not even roundabout answers.”
“You’re right. We can’t,” Celestia agreed.
“Then at least give me one answer.” Hammer Strike looked to Celestia. “From what I’ve gathered, we look like said heroes, we sound like them, and hold some of the same manners as them. Are we them? You don’t even have to elaborate. I know traveling time seems to be a thing you can deal with here, so just give me this one.”
Celestia let out a heavy sigh. “Yes.”
“We are not certain, but it seems likely,” Luna added.
“Great,” Hammer Strike sighed. “So we have to live up to a ‘legend’ we have yet to live.”
“If it’s any consolation, legends are never born. They are always made,” Celestia said.
“Yes. But they are typically made in order. Not stumbling back and forward between their glory and before they knew how to wield a weapon.” He rubbed at his forehead.
“I can’t help you there. Time is strange at times. And for some, its flow is not nearly so straight as one might expect,” Celestia said.
“Where do we go from here then? Because after all of this, I don’t have any sight into what comes next.”
“You continue to live your lives as best you can. However, to make things a little easier for you, Luna and I have come up with a means to ensure that you won’t be bothered by any nobles who want to interfere without giving proper permission.” Celestia looked to her sister. “Luna, if you would do the honors?”
Luna produced a scroll, which she levitated to Hammer Strike. “By our right as diarchs of Equestria we present this deed to you, Hammer Strike, giving you dominion over the Everfree Forest and all within its borders.”
Celestia beamed. “Congratulations. You’re officially a lord.”
Hammer Strike blinked a few times. “I … appreciate it, but.” He sighed before muttering, “Ex Divinia etiam, I feel as though I’m going to get roped into your politics now.”
“This is actually for the sake of keeping you out of the political field in the long run. By placing your lands under the jurisdiction of Lord Hammer Strike, Shawn and his fellow humans can act relatively free of any potential interference from other nobles,” Celestia noted.
“I suppose that’s a positive at least.” He glanced to Grif and Pensword. “Anything else of importance, or are we just heading back to Ponyville?”
“No,” Grif said. “Let’s head home. I need rest.”
“And I suppose we’ll need to introduce ourselves to the troops again, too.” Pensword sighed. “You can’t have a new lord who never shows himself to his subjects, after all.”
“I’d offer to see you to the station myself, but I have the feeling you’d prefer to travel without everypony gawking at you,” Celestia said. “As such, the best I can send you off with is a wish of good luck and the promise that new funds will be sent for Lord Hammer Strike as a part of his newly acquired status, and as thanks for his service to the crowns of Equestria and the Crystal Empire both.”
“Sounds good. If that’s everything,” Hammer Strike replied as he turned toward the exit, “we should get moving if I want to get us tickets for the next train to Ponyville.”
“Debriefing Moonshade is going to be interesting,” Pensword noted as he turned to follow the stallion.
“Let's stop at Joe’s on the way there,” Grif said. “Might as well make the trip worth it.”
Hammer Strike hummed. “Fair enough. I suppose it’s a good thing I kept a sum of coin on me.”
“Then let’s get going. Standing still like this in the palace is making me feel antsy for some reason. Then again, I’m a Pegasus. Being antsy seems to be a tribal trait.”
And with that said, the three friends departed from the presence of the two princesses.
“So, … this is where it all started,” Celestia said to her sister as the doors boomed shut.
“Yes, sister, though I feel your test for young Twilight may have pushed things a little far with them.”
Celestia sighed. “Perhaps. But if we didn’t send them, then the future that is our past would never have come to be.”
The murmur of Ponies was calm and gentle as traffic passed through the stores and stalls of the building. Donut Joe’s establishment was, as ever, small but high on quality. The air was filled with the rich scent of pastry and hot beverages as the donut aficionado worked his magic on the confectionary delights.
For once, no one was staring. There were no hushed whispers or fearful glances. It was just three friends enjoying their time together in a public space without the judgment they had to endure as the alien humans who had turned back a tide of Changelings.
“I’d certainly say this is at least a nice change of pace,” Hammer Strike remarked.
“And we get to taste things even better than before,” Pensword noted.
“Joe’s is the only good thing about this place,” Grif said.
“Almost seems like it at times,” Hammer Strike nodded his agreement. “But at least there are a small number of other positives.”
“I mean, that spot in the Gryphon Quarter of the city was pretty nice,” Pensword pointed out to Grif.
“Joe's coffee is better.” Grif smirked.
“For those who like it, perhaps,” Hammer Strike chuckled faintly.
“A brew as black as Grif’s feathers is a dark blend, indeed,” Pensword said as he sipped his coco. “How do you stand the stuff?”
“With a sigh of enjoyment and four teaspoons of sugar,” Grif said, taking a long pull.
“Do you think we’ll be expected to stay like this for a while?” Pensword asked of his friends.
“We’ll need to establish our presence firstmost.” Hammer Strike hummed in thought. “Ensure our troops know the chain of command, and of course reveal ourselves to close allies and the like.”
“Then we should probably get our stories straight. How do you want to play this, Hammer Strike?” Pensword asked.
“Just accept the history of yourself and know that there is likely to be plenty of myth with it.” He sighed. “You’ll have to study what history has painted you as in your own time.”
“So another visit to Golden Oak Library, then.” Pensword sighed. “That’s going to be interesting.”
“I’m just curious about how Moonshade is going to take this,” Hammer Strike said.
“I’m guessing it won’t be very difficult to accept. What I’m worried about is what I’ll have to ask her after we tell her who we are,” Pensword said.
“We’ll see when the time comes. Until then, let’s enjoy ourselves for now. The next train for Ponyville is an hour off,” Hammer Strike said.
“Yeah, let's enjoy the fact we’re still here,” Grif noted.
Pensword smirked. “Another round of donuts?”
“Yes,” Grif said.
“Go for it. I can afford it,” Hammer Strike chuckled.
Pensword waved a wing to signal Donut Joe over. “So, realistically speaking, how long do you think we’ll need to stay in Ponyville before we ‘depart’ again?” Pensword asked.
“We have a couple of months until spring. In which case, we’re supposed to march to the old palace. Given the prep involved, our ‘departure’ would have to be within the month.”
“Well, on the bright side, at least the princesses didn’t put a bunch of fanfare behind your sudden rise into nobility,” Pensword noted to Hammer Strike.
“I get the feeling that won’t matter for long.” Hammer Strike frowned in thought.
“Only if the nobles start to raise a fuss. I don’t see them being willing to do that until after the Everfree is clear and safe for travel,” Pensword said. “There isn’t any profit in it for them.”
“Only time will tell.”
“I wouldn’t say that,” Grif said. “Not under the name Hammer Strike, anyway.”
Pensword shrugged as another round of donuts was delivered. “For now, let’s focus on the present.” He liked his lips. “Dibs on the jelly donut.”
Extended Holiday Chapter 23: Return to Somewhat Daily Routine
The train’s arrival at Ponyville station was timely and prompt as always. There was no great fanfare, no pomp or circumstance. It was a ride like any other, and that was how the trio liked it. Twilight and the others had already returned earlier on as the young student beamed with the afterglow of her beloved teacher’s praise. The purple mare raised the role of being a teacher's pet to an art form. There couldn’t possibly be any event that could have aroused suspicion or caused difficulty for the supposedly new arrivals in the sleepy little town.
That is, until there was.
As the trio disembarked from the train and onto the platform a series of shrieks and screams soon filled the air, arising, strangely enough, from a trio of Ponies manning a flower stall near the ticket booth. A great clatter of wood rattled with the sound of excited barks as the cries of, “Timberwolf!” created a general sense of panic.
Weapons were drawn immediately as the three friends fell into combative stances. Given the tighter quarters, Pensword chose to favor the wing blades Hammer Strike had given him. Meanwhile, Hammer Strike hefted his massive sword with ease while the steely hiss of Grif’s dual swords carried like a warning rattle.
The barking drew closer. Its owner was undeterred.
Grif leaped into the air to get an overview of the situation and nearly dropped his swords. A white blur of wood skittered, bobbed, and weaved around and between the legs of guards that had been stationed at the platform, tripping up his would-be captors as they struggled ineptly to contain him. The playful pup yapped happily as he got lost in his new game.
“Stand down,” Grif ordered, landing in front of Sylvio.
“Stand back, Sir. This is a dangerous animal,” one of the guards huffed, even while Sylvio sat on his haunches and panted excitedly as he looked at the Gryphon.
“No, it’s not,” Grif said. He pushed the pair aside easily, despite their protests, and approached Sylvio. “Hey, boy. Come here,” he said, holding his hand out and gesturing.
The pup leaped and immediately began to lick Grif’s face, leaving sticky films of sap that layered to start clumping his feathers together.
“See? He’s harmless,” Grif told the guards.
“Then will you help us return it to the forest where it belongs?”
“You’ll find it hard to separate them, I suspect,” Hammer Strike spoke up. “You’ll just need to have faith that the pup will be fine with him.”
“I’ll take responsibility for him,” Grif said
“Then we’ll have to ask you not to enter Ponyville, Sir. Monsters aren’t allowed inside town limits.”
Hammer Strike sighed as he realized what he needed to do. “Then allow me to step in and place my own authority on it.” He looked to the guard before reaching into his coat. “I am Lord Hammer Strike, Lord of the Everfree and those settlements that reside on its border. If you doubt my claim, as I would suspect, then—” He removed a scroll from his coat and allowed it to unroll, revealing the seals of both Celestia and Luna. “—Let this serve as proof.”
The guards scrutinized the document while Grif continued to play with the young pup. At last, the pair pulled back.
“It looks legitimate,” the one said to his partner.
“But nopony’s had control over the domain of the Everfree in, well, … ever,” the other guard postulated.
“If the princesses approved it, then new or not, we respect this lord’s claim and his authority.” The guard bowed to the stallion. “How can we be of assistance, milord?”
“Continue about your business for the time being, and trust in the claim of those beside me, of Grif and Pensword.” Hammer Strike gave a faint gesture to the two as he rolled the scroll once more and placed it within his coat. “There will be talks in due time with the guard present in Ponyville, but that will come later.”
“Yes, Sir,” the guard said smartly and snapped to attention before turning to tend to the crowd and help them calm down while his partner worked to rouse the flower mares that had fainted.
Hammer Strike sighed as he turned to the others. “Well, that’s certainly a way to make an introduction.”
Grif shrugged. “Not my fault.”
Sylvio barked without shame as his tail continued to wag.
“What in the name of the moon is going on here?” a familiar voice barked as leathery wings glided silently along the air to give their owner an easy descent. Moonshade was less than pleased as she glared toward the guards and the new arrivals.
“Miscommunication is what I would call it,” Hammer Strike spoke up. “It has been dealt with, however, thankfully.”
“And you are?” Moonshade asked.
“I am Hammer Strike. Beside me is Grif and Pensword,” he replied with a faint smile. “Though, given attention is not on us however, I can speak more freely.”
“Your voice sounds familiar, but I don’t recognize your face,” Moon Shade said. “What family do you hail from? Perhaps I’ve seen you around Canterlot, and only a noble would be willing to risk giving their child that particular name.”
“I suppose I am a Lord, but technically I am the one and only of my family.” He chuckled faintly.
“And what brings you here from Canterlot, Lord Hammer Strike?”
Pensword couldn’t help but smile and shake his head.
“A little. But please, don’t let me interrupt you,” Pensword replied, even as he struggled to keep himself from going any farther than the smile he had already allowed to be seen.
“Honestly, I’m quite surprised. You recognize my voice, yet you can’t place who I really am, despite wearing the same coat I left in.” Hammer Strike chuckled.
“There are quite a few blue coats in Equestria, Sir. And I’ve been stationed in Ponyville for some time, so I wouldn’t have had leisure to see what you may have left in at Canterlot.”
“Perhaps another reminder is in order, then,” he spoke in Draconic. “After all, it wasn’t that long ago that a certain three individuals left you in charge of the guard while business was attended to. Come now, Moonshade. I don’t have to spell it out now, do I?”
Moonshade’s jaw dropped as she stared at the stallion. “Shawn?”
Pensword began to giggle.
“Alongside Matthew and Taze.” Hammer Strike smiled as he gestured to the others. “A lot has happened since we left.”
“So it would seem,” Moonshade said as she recovered her composure.
“But, um, … I do need your help with something later, if you have the time,” Pensword said bashfully. “Preferably alone?”
“Sure. What do you need from me?” she asked.
“Well, you know I’m not a natural-born Pegasus, and … well, I … kind of don’t know how to fly. Do you think you could teach me?”
“Ah, I see,” she said. “I can, but it’s not going to be easy. There is a bit of a difference in principles.”
“From what?”
She raised her wing. “How many feathers do you see?”
“None. Is that going to be a problem?”
“Feathered wings have admittedly small differences to how they handle the air compared to how our hide wings do,” she explained.
“Will it be too much for me to be able to pick it up from you?”
“I don’t think so,” she said, “but it’s important for you to be aware.”
Pensword nodded. “Then I’m at your disposal after we finish tending to the troops. Whenever works best for you.”
“I’ll send you a message when the time is good for it,” she said.
Pensword nodded. “All right. That being said, it looks like we should probably get moving. We don’t want to cause another panic, and it looks like the others are still a little skittish around that puppy.”
“It is a timberwolf,” she pointed out. “Not your average pet store pup.”
“At times, with the way it acts, you can almost forget that.” Hammer Strike gave a brief chuckle. “Then shall we head back to the Punch Bowl?”
“We’ll need to reserve more rooms, you know. Otherwise, it’ll look suspicious or make the troops think we’re cruel,” Pensword pointed out.
“I’m not dealing with that. We’ll just make note of sharing rooms for the sake of keeping rooms available for her business.”
“Would a letter from you do the trick? The other you, I mean?”
“Probably. It’ll be fine. I’ll handle it.”
“I suppose that is kind of your job, now that you’re the lord of the Everfree.”
Hammer Strike sighed. “Indeed.”
Pensword smiled. “At least you have your trusty commander and left-hand Gryphon to back you up.”
“Let’s just go. I’d rather not have to answer any more questions.” He raised his voice. “Grif, we’re leaving! Bring your pet. We have a lot to do today.”
The journey to the Punch Bowl was mostly uneventful. Aside from the whispers of gossip that always seem to follow in small towns, the friends were able to travel unmolested. Sylvio bounded in circles around Grif as they passed into the square and turned down the street that would lead them to their ultimate destination.
The old wooden sign was a welcome sight after the fanfare and stress of literally saving an entire lost civilization and living for weeks on end fighting a losing battle to bide for time. The trio did their very best not to think of their desires for rest and peace too much, lest they tempt fate and invite the chaos that always seemed to brew in Ponyville, even with Discord sealed away in stone. Since there was no drastic switch into any kind of formal wear other than Hammer Strike’s coat, there was no sense of alertness or surprise as the trio entered into the inn. At least until Sylvio tried to enter. For someone who enjoyed drinking so much, Berry was surprisingly quick. She rushed to the door and shook her head violently.
“Pets are one thing, folks, but that there’s a timberwolf. You’re liable to scare away my customers if you bring that in here,” she said flatly. “Not to mention scare my daughter. I’m going to have to ask you to leave it outside.”
“Come on, Berry, he’s going to stay in my room. He won’t be a bother,” Grif wheedled.
“I think I’d remember if I’d rented a room to you. We don’t really get Gryphons out here in Ponyville that often,“ she noted coolly. “And what rooms I do have are almost all rented out. Even if that weren’t the case, I still wouldn’t let you. Tame or not, a puppy isn’t trained, and I can’t afford to pay for anything it damages. The answer is no.”
Hammer Strike sighed. “Given there is nobody else around, I suppose it makes this easier. Though you may not recognize us, Berry, I can assure you that you have talked to us recently. Long story short, Celestia deemed it worthy to give us disguises. Pensword is Matthew, Grif is Taze, and I, Hammer Strike, am Shawn.” He reached into his coat and pulled out his scroll once more. “To prove myself before disbelief kicks in, here is a scroll dictating my position, signed by Celestia and Luna, in which you would then know I’m not lying.”
Berry looked first at the document, then scrutinizingly at the gathered group.
“They’re telling the truth, Berry,” Moonshade said. “I can vouch for them.”
Berry shook her head. “Still won’t let the timberwolf in. It’s one thing if Fluttershy is here to keep animals under control or if a domesticated one is brought in instead. That’s a wild-born magical creature. The answer’s still no. And no puppy dog eyes are gonna change that,” the mare said firmly.
Hammer Strike reached into his coat once more. “How about this, then? I’d like to make a deal with you for the allowance of his timberwolf.” He pulled out a bag and placed it on the counter. “That should be roughly four times the cost of all of our rooms, and I’ll back it further by saying if it causes any damage in the future, I’ll pay double for it to be repaired.”
Berry raised her brow skeptically, even as her hoof shook at the prospect of taking that many bits in one go. “Do you even have that much handy?”
“I literally have nothing else to spend this on beyond groceries and supplies. And given I was rewarded more than I could reasonably spend while here, I’m determined to at least put some of it to use.”
Berry grumbled, but ultimately caved to the pressure that was commerce. “Fine,” she said as she snatched the coins. “But I expect that wolf to be on its best behavior.” She sighed. “I suppose I should know its name if you aren’t around to pull it up short. What do you call it?”
“Sylvio,” Grif said. “Sylvio Lupus.”
Hammer Strike hummed in thought at the name. “Similar to Silva Lupus, Wood Wolf. Fair enough,” he muttered with a nod.
“You might want Moonshade to go first when you enter your rooms to avoid any misunderstandings. I don’t want our other guests to do something that could cost money, even if you can pay for it,” Berry said.
“That’s probably not a bad idea. Just because they sense emotions doesn’t mean they can tell we’re the same people,” Pensword agreed.
Moonshade nodded. “That does sound like the wise move.”
“Hopefully, that’ll be one of the last groups of people we’ll have to tell for a while,” Pensword said. “Though I suppose we may have to tell the girls eventually, assuming they have a high enough clearance level,” Pensword pondered.
“They do. Twilight knows as is, so it’s just a matter of letting the others know.” Hammer Strike shrugged.
The journey up the steps was one filled with a multitude of emotions. Relief, anxiety, and exhaustion were three of the primary ones. They were in Ponyville. They were safe. There was no Sombra here. Now it was just a matter of taking the time to recover while they worked with the troops to establish authority and rank.
When they opened the room, it looked like it had been vandalized. Sheets and pillows were torn. Furniture was wrecked. Bits of green goo stuck chaotically at various points along the room’s surface. It was not a pretty sight.
“Moonshade, what happened here?” Pensword asked as he looked over the destruction. “And where are Mutatio and Me-Me?”
“They’re hiding.” Moonshade shrugged. “They’ll show themselves when they realize it’s safe.”
“And the room? Berry is going to kill us when she finds out about this.”
“They got … nervous.”
“Pensword sighed heavily and shook his head. “Oh, Mutatio,” he murmured.
“Moonshade. Why do you bring strangers?” a familiar voice buzzed from a side table.
“It’s okay, Mutatio. It’s Shawn, Taze, and Matthew. They’re just disguised,” Moonshade said.
The sidetable burst into green flame, and moments later, Mutatio stood there instead. The Changeling approached cautiously and examined each of the figures closely. “And the creature?” he asked as he looked to Sylvio.
“That's my pup,” Grif said.
Sylvio barked, then looked questioningly at Mutatio’s legs as he cocked his head and gave a questioning growl.
“No,” Grif said. “That’s not wood, and you can’t chew on it.”
“It is … a larva?” Mutatio asked.
“A puppy, but that is the equivalent, yes,” Pensword said. “While in these forms, Shawn is called Hammer Strike. I am called Penword. And Taze is called Grif.”
“We were not aware that humans could change their forms as we do,” Mutatio said.
“We can’t,” Hammer Strike spoke up. “Celestia and Luna deemed it a worthwhile endeavor to grant us a disguise through their magic. The forms we take are supposedly what we would look like if we were born here.”
“Odd,” Mutatio noted. “You killed the queen, and yet you are given the form of an Earth Pony. I would have expected a Pegasus, or possibly a Minotaur, particularly given the bipedal nature of your other forms.”
Hammer Strike simply shrugged in return.
“Sometimes, humble origins lead to the biggest legends.” Grif shrugged.
“Speaking of forms, though, where’s Me-Me? Is she hiding as an object, too?” Pensword asked.
There was a disturbance on the far wall as a section of it in an usual shape seemed to step away. Green embers traced along it as the color changed and warped, revealing another Changeling. Me-Me stood taller then they remembered, her chitin plates having taken on a slightly denser look. A crest of some kind had begun to grow on the back of her head. Weirdest of all was her eyes no longer appeared compound, but looked almost like a single large iris with bits of green outlining the edges.
“Camouflage? I’ve heard of Changelings taking on other forms, but never literally blending in,” Pensword said. “Is this something new?”
“It’s something only available to praetorians, … and queens,” Me-Me explained.
“Moonshade tells us you were nervous. Why?” Pensword asked.
“You three were gone, while we were alone in hostile territory.”
“Under sanctuary, and with Moonshade to help protect you.” Pensword sighed. “But then again, fear is never a rational thing, is it?”
“I think it’s best if we just give them a pass,” Hammer Strike said as he eyed the room. “That being said, can you two clean this up? I don’t think Berry will appreciate finding the beginnings of a hive forming in one of her guest rooms. Her being the operative word here.”
The two Changelings looked at one another, and then a subtle pink flush began to show in their cheeks.
“I will … get started on that,” Mutatio said meekly as he turned toward the deposits and his horn began to glow.
Hammer Strike sighed to himself as he exited his room. After stashing his stuff away apart from his sword, he was finally ready to go see Steel Weaver and Storm Hammer. Before he could close his door however, Renati chose to follow after, landing on the opposite side of his greatsword.
He chuckled briefly as he made his way out. “Glad you were able to recognize me at least.”
Renati preened his feathers and let out a soft cry, then turned his head proudly, as if to ask how the Pony could possibly think the bird wouldn’t be able to.
“Of course.” Hammer Strike shook his head gently. “At least having you here will lend some aid to their perspective of ‘me.’”
As the two strode through town, a familiar large red stallion hauled a great cart behind him loaded down with apples and other goods by them. He stopped briefly to gaze at the stallion and what he carried on his back.
“Big Sword,” Big Mac noted in his deep voice.
Hammer Strike gave a brief chuckle. “Has to be. Otherwise, it’d be too light.”
Big Mac raised a brow. “You with the guard?”
“Technically, I suppose. I am Hammer Strike, the current established Lord of the Everfree. I’m here to supply aid and work alongside everyone to reclaim the land.”
Big Mac’s brow rose even higher. “Y’don’t say.” He nodded slowly. “Good luck, then.” And then the great stallion pulled away to perform his deliveries.
The journey toward the camp was uneventful. Getting into the camp itself, not quite so simple. But a few flourishes of the princess’ proclamation remedied the situation while simultaneously sending ripples through the camp. Naturally, these ripples were bound to meet the sets flowing from the heart of the base, where the steady rhythm of hammer on steel and the bellows of the forge brought the flames roaring to life.
“There you are,” Hammer Strike spoke to himself as he made his way within.
Steel Weaver looked up from his work as he pulled back a large sword from the whet stone. “And what can I do for you, stranger? Given your clothes and the fact I’ve never seen you before, I’m going to guess you’ve got clearance from Canterlot.”
“Close enough.” Hammer Strike shrugged. “At this moment, I have no requests. I simply came by to check in.”
Steel Weaver raised a brow. “Check in,” he repeated. “You know this isn’t an inn, right?”
Hammer Strike sighed. “Let’s just get this over with,” he muttered to himself. “Steel Weaver, you know me. I left a week ago or so on an ‘assignment.’ I just don’t look the same because Celestia and Luna thought it best to disguise us. If it isn’t that obvious, I am literally wearing the same exact coat I left in.”
“Wondered why you were carrying that honking thing around,” Steel Weaver said as he motioned toward Hammer Strike’s sword. “Need a tuneup, Shawn?”
“I would hope not,” Hammer Strike replied. “It’s already seen battle, however, so I might as well see where it lines up in quality.” He removed the sword off his back for Steel Weaver to look over.
Steel Weaver took the sword with both hooves to help ease the strain, even as Hammer Strike released the grip his single hoof had on the handle. The sword was quickly hurried over to the somewhat messy work table for the pony to review. He let out a low whistle. “High quality material, this.” The metal rang as he struck a tiny hammer against it. “S’not easy to get a sword to sing.”
“I made that sword in the Crystal Empire, technically a few weeks ago? To explain that simply, time travel is a pain to think through.”
“Time travel, you say. Sounds like you bit off a lot more than you could chew, then.”
“I wish it was by choice,” Hammer Strike replied flatly. “We fought against corrupted guards with nothing more than a thrown together resistance group. We couldn’t figure out a way to save them, so we fought, over and over until one side gave in.”
“You mean you had to kill.” Steel Weaver shook his head. “Nasty business, that. But knowing you, you wouldn’t have tried that route unless you were out of options. Nothing to be ashamed of, really.” He eyed the sword more closely. “I haven’t seen work this fine since Celestia let me study a Hammer Strike original up close. That stallion’s a legend around these parts, especially among smiths.”
“Well, that has some interesting connotations to it,” Hammer Strike remarked as he pulled a scroll out of his coat. “So, hi. With confirmation from Celestia, uh, I am Lord Hammer Strike.”
Steel Weaver blinked, looked at the scroll, then looked back at the Earth Pony, and finally burst out laughing. “Oh, she is good. Anypony to run afoul of a Strike never has a happy ending. If she’s entrusting that title to you, then you must’ve impressed her something fierce.”
“Given time travel may be involved, especially since I’ve already dealt with it once, she’s … already confirmed that it’s quite likely I am that Hammer Strike.” He rubbed the back of his head. “Hard to tell, given she’s being very obscure about it.”
“Rule one of a good smith. Don’t overthink the project.” Steel Weaver shrugged as he passed the blade back to Hammer Strike. “I don’t care if you are or aren’t. You already had my respect before. Now that I’ve seen what you can do, it makes things more interesting.” He grinned. “Just how much weight can you lift now as a stallion?”
“... Yes.”
Steel Weaver pulled open a drawer and removed a number of schematics. “Then I’ve got a few ideas I’d like to run by you, lad. These aren’t that useful to the average guard. But you? Now that’s a different story altogether if that sword’s any indication.”
“I’ve certainly got the time for it.” Hammer Strike shrugged. “So, what do you have in mind?”
Grif walked toward Black Rook with a careful ease as he scratched Sylvio’s head gently. “Black Rook?”
Black Rook turned with some surprise to stare at the Gryphon and his unusual companion. “Can I … help you?”
“My name is Grif. I’m currently on retainer to the princesses to take over this portion of command should the humans leave. And until they return from their current duties, I’ll be acting command.”
“I assume you have papers to back up that claim?” Rook asked. “No offense intended, but Taze taught me to be thorough.”
“Good man! I have an official letter from Hammer Strike, who is acting in Lord Shawn’s stead. He has a letter from the princesses if you need further validation,” Grif said, handing a scroll forward.
“Hammer Strike?” Rook raised a skeptical brow at the name. “That’s not a name most folks use lightly around here. And you say the princesses authorized him to take over?”
“Yes, I did. You can ask him to confirm,” Grif said. “For now, can you give me a status update?”
“That depends on what status you’re asking after. Do you mean the troops, the plans for the forest, or the situation in general from when we first arrived?”
“All three, but start with the troops,” Grif said.
“Training continues at pace. Some of the recruits still want to slack off, and with Shawn, Taze, and Matthew gone, it’s become a game of sorts for some to try to skip training and exercises. The majority of troops are more disciplined than that, but I suppose it’s to be expected. We haven’t been here in Ponyville all that long, after all. A few months can make all the difference, but not with everypony. We’ve been training the Pegasi and Unicorns in methods for uprooting stumps and removing other obstructions, and Twilight’s offered some spells to assist with dealing with the foliage to help clear any wild growths that might be in the way of the road. Or at least make it easier to remove them. With the last snows melting in the forest, though, it should be a lot easier to make our way toward the castle. As for the last one, each of the leaders have been doing their part to maintain the chain of command in our respective classes. As I said, it hasn’t been perfect, but we’re managing.”
Grif nodded. “You feel you need more help maintaining control?”
“More that some of the troops still haven’t learned the meaning of respect for chain of command.”
“I want you to pick out five promising members of the previous group and promote them to act directly under you. From now on, we’re going to be working on discipline here. You all will be authorized to hand out punishment and punitive duties as you see fit, provided they are not severe. I’ll want a report reviewing numbers and punishments at the end of every week. Things like latrine duty or kitchen duty. I’m sure you get the idea.”
“And if they refuse, Sir?”
“Send them to me, and I’ll sort them out.”
“Will you be taking Taze’s quarters in the meantime, Sir?” Rook asked.
“I trust you won’t be having any objections?” Grif asked
“If you three are taking their place, and Hammer Strike says so, then my objections don’t matter either way,” Rook said with a shrug. “Taze might have something to say when he gets back, but he likes to do things himself.”
“I have already discussed with him. It’s all been sorted. By the way,” Grif said, gesturing to Sylvio, “he is to be considered the company mascot. Anyone mistreats him, they answer to me. Got it?”
Rook nodded. “Whatever you say, Sir.” He peered at the pup. “This little guy really safe, though?”
Sylvio yapped once, then traced his sticky tongue in a long line up Rook’s muzzle in the familiar kiss all dogs are known to give the world over.
“Safe as a dog can be,” Grif said. “So then, Rook, first Hearth's Warming away from home?”
“Yes, Sir.” Rook nodded.
Grif nodded. “For now, I want you to keep everyone behaving on just morning exercises. Make sure they get an extra half ration on meals and a double ration for Hearth’s Warming,” Grif said.
“I assume you want me to save that news for closer to the holiday?”
“I can see why Taze trusts you. You’re very on the ball.”
“You have to be if you want to be in the guard. Or at least you should be.” Rook shrugged. “Just takes some folks longer than others to realize that.”
“And what are your thoughts on our schedule? Should we be able to mobilize on time?”
“That depends on the weather in the forest itself, Sir. All reports indicate that we have no control over the patterns in that area of the kingdom. We have weather troops on weather patrol keeping an eye on the developing weather patterns in the vicinity to advise on when the opportune moment will arrive for safe travel.”
“Fair enough. Anything else I should know?”
“Not that you won’t be able to handle, Sir. I hear Gryphons are a tough bunch. I’ll do what I can to help, though. That’s my responsibility, after all.”
“Good man. Then I’ll take my leave and come find you later.”
“As you wish, Sir. I’ll see about executing those orders you gave me in the meantime. When would you like me to bring my disciplinary committee for briefing?”
“As soon as possible.”
“And where would you like us to report to you, Sir?”
“At the inn,” Grif said. “For now, I’ll take reports there.”
Rook nodded. “Yes, Sir.”
The evening air was calm and gentle as the sun dyed the skies in beautiful shades of red, orange, and purple. Ponyville was winding down its activities for the day, and many young foals were at home awaiting the dinners that their families had prepared. However, there is always at least some business to be had, even in the late hours of the day. And so it was for five mares as each congregated at the library that Twilight Sparkle called her home.
“All right, Twilight, we’re all here now. So why don’t you get to telling us why we had to keep this all hush hush?” Applejack said as she looked at the purple Unicorn.
“Well, it … kind of has to do with our trip to the Crystal Empire.”
“Is something wrong with Shining Armor and Princess Cadance?” Rarity asked.
Twilight shook her head. “No. It has to do with our new friends we met on the way to the empire.”
“You mean Lord Hammer Strike and his two friends. Pensword and Grif, wasn’t it?” Rarity asked.
Twilight nodded. “Yes.”
“What about ‘em?” Rainbow Dash asked.
“I wasn’t able to tell you before because Princess Celestia asked me not to. It was a matter of national security. But now that the Crystal Empire is restored and their mission there is accomplished, it should be safe for me to tell you all now, and … well, like Pinkie knows, I don’t like to keep secrets.” Twilight blushed at the memory of her failure to keep her first Pinkie promise.
“You tried. That’s better than some Ponies I’ve dealt with before,” Pinkie Pie said.
“And just what do you mean when you say dealt with?” Applejack asked.
Pinkie Pie just smiled in response, then winked toward one of the walls.
“You all know Hammer Strike, Grif, and Pensword better than you think you do,” Twilight continued. Only the twitch of her tail and a slight flick of her ear hinted at the reflexive unease from Pinkie Pie’s nonsensical behavior.
“I mean, Grif has been to my cottage with Sylvio, so I think I’ve gotten to know him at least a little bit,” Fluttershy said.
“You … might all know them a little better than that. They’re … kind of, maybe, sortof … Shawn, Matthew, and Taze?” She chuckled nervously.
The room was quiet for a few moments. Then Rainbow Dash spoke up. “Twilight, you really need to work on your delivery. If you’re going to tell a joke, you need to sell it. Say it with confidence.”
“Darling, I know magic can do some incredible things, but turning them into Equestrian creatures?” Rarity asked.
“There is a spell,” Twilight said. “I haven’t learned it yet, but I’ve read about it in some history books from the Canterlot Archives. It was used for the purpose of observing and learning about the culture behind other magical creatures in their natural habitats.”
“I knew there was a reason my party senses didn’t start tingling!” Pinkie crowed.
A terrible blush rose in Rarity’s cheeks. “Oh, dear….”
“I’m still not buying it,” Rainbow Dash said pointedly as she folded her forelegs.
“I had a feeling some of you wouldn’t. That’s why I asked for a little help convincing you.”
The door to the library yawned open as a familiar stallion in a bright blue coat with gold hemming strode through the door. His longsword lay atop his back, gleaming in the evening sun and reflecting its rays through the room until he closed the door behind him. Hammer Strike had come to call.
“So, you needed me for something?” he questioned, looking over the group before settling on Twilight.
“To confirm who you really are,” Twilight said. “I did tell you some of the girls might not believe me.”
“Oh, yeah, fair enough. She’s not lying. I am Shawn,” he replied simply.
Rainbow Dash shook her head stubbornly. “I still don’t believe it.”
Hammer Strike slowly turned towards her. “Rainbow, I am literally wearing the same exact coat, same shirt, vest, even the cravat. To be honest, it should be blatantly obvious.”
“But … but … but….”
Applejack shook her head and sighed. “Not cool, Dash. Not cool.”
Rainbow Dash let out a whimper as her ego bruised. Meanwhile, Rarity was doing her very best not to be conspicuous as she struggled with her embarrassment.
“Additionally, just in case, Pensword is Matthew, and Grif is Taze,” Hammer Strike further added.
“You walk like you were born this way,” Fluttershy said softly as she gazed at him. “Was it difficult to learn after you … you know, changed?”
Hammer Strike blinked. “Honestly, I found trying to talk more difficult than walking. Humans learn to crawl before walking. And even into our adult lives, the need to crawl to get under obstacles potentially can exist. It was more a matter of just … speeding it up and adjusting to leg size difference.” He shrugged.
“Why would it be hard for you to talk?” Applejack asked.
“The length of the mouth.” Hammer Strike gestured to his jaw. “Humans have a drastically different scale, so having to adjust requires time. Thankfully, knowing the language helped somewhat.”
“And why are you still, well, you right now? I mean, as Hammer Strike instead of Shawn,” Rainbow asked.
“It’s mostly to establish a presence. Also, an additional point to cover. Given what Celestia and Luna have confirmed for us, it appears we may be the same individuals of myth in this world. While I would normally find this to be ridiculous, we’ve already been shoved through time, so I can’t really say it’s impossible anymore,” he muttered the last part.
“You do realize that time travel under normal circumstances is still pretty much impossible for any lingering period of time right?” Twilight asked. “The only reason it worked in the empire, at least from what you told me, is because it was an act of extremely old and dark magic.”
“It was why I think that trip worked, but there are other factors and potential methods that technically exist. I know of at least one, but I’d rather not disclose too much about that.” He sighed. “The main reason I believe as much is because, as I mentioned, Celestia and Luna believe that we may be them. It’s not one hundred percent certainty, but it’s very likely from their perspective.”
“And they’re more likely to know, since they lived during those times,” Twilight said. “Until time says otherwise, that means that we have to treat Shawn as a noble. Or in this case, like we would Fancy Pants.”
“I’d rather you didn’t,” he replied simply before a look of realization crossed his face. “Oh, right, might as well show you this.” He reached into his coat and pulled out a scroll before offering it to Twilight. “Ended up with some … certification.”
Twilight unfurled the scroll and reviewed the contents. “Huh.”
“Let me see that,” Applejack said as she moseyed next to Twilight to review the scroll. “Well I’ll be. Hey, Rarity, this here says Shawn really is a bonafide noble now.”
“Does this mean you’ll have to go to Canterlot to meet with other nobles?” Fluttershy asked curiously.
“I hope not. Well, I wouldn’t mind some of them.” Hammer Strike hummed in thought before shrugging. “We’ll see. Beyond that, however,” he turned his attention to Rarity. “Is everything okay, Rarity?”
“What? Why, of course everything’s okay. Why wouldn't everything be okay? How could anything possibly not be okay? I’m fine. We’re fine. Everything’s fine!” She suddenly raised her hoof to look at a watch that wasn’t there. “Ohoho, will you look at the time? Have to be going. Big project to do. Ta-ta, darlings!” And with that said, she bolted out the library almost as quickly as Rainbow Dash could fly, leaving behind a trail of dust and sparkle in her wake.
Hammer Strike blinked a few times. “I … uh, okay?”
“Yeah, she’s definitely not okay,” Rainbow Dash said.
“Eeeeeyup,” Applejack agreed.
The air currents were … less than pleasant to the Pegasus as he wobbled in the cold night air. Pensword tensed and struggled not to flail as the dual pressures of warm air from the ground and cold air from above buffeted his body. He thanked his lucky stars that weather in Ponyville could actually be controlled. Otherwise, he was confident he would have been completely overwhelmed before he even had the chance to begin learning this most essential and basic function of Pegasus anatomy.
“You need to work on leveling out. Remember, your wings aren't your arms. They should be working in tandem. You only want to offset that to turn or adjust,” Moonshade explained as she circled slowly around him.
“This … is a lot harder than it looks,” Pensword admitted, then swallowed heavily. “We’re supposed to be able to take heavy hits, right? So if I end up crashing, it’s not going to do too serious damage?”
“Not at the speed you’re currently flying at.” She laughed. “But yes, Pegasi can usually withstand a heavy impact with low injuries.”
“Can Thestrals, too?” Pensword asked curiously, even as he forced his wings to spread out to their utmost capacity to try to force himself into a glide. That, and literally save his hide.
“To a lesser degree, but we make up for it by regulating temperature better,” she explained.
“So you can fly higher than most other flyers? Or does that have more to do with living in more extreme environments?” Pensword asked curiously. For now, he was coasting. Given the close calls he’d had, it was time for a little break from trying to really fly anyway.
“Pegasi are diurnal, which means, optimally, they will have the sun warming them while they're most active. We Thestrals, being nocturnal, don’t have nearly as much heat available to us.”
“Then when you say temperature control, do you mean one that you can shift to hotter or cooler as you see fit or more that it’s something designed to keep you warmer as a result of the more traditional practice of living and flying at night?”
“A bit of both.” She shrugged. “I’m not a scholar.”
“Do you ever get used to the feeling of the wind brushing over your skin? It feels like I’ve got a thousand little fingers tracing across my feathers.”
“I don’t feel it,” she admitted. “Our fur is lined against the wind.”
“I guess I may have to ask Rainbow Dash for a few tips later, once Shawn gets around to telling her the truth.” Pensword sighed, then steeled himself as he looked first at the approaching ground, then back to the night sky above. “I suppose it’s time to try climbing back up there again,” he said as his wings twitched ever so slightly. “Do you think if I try galloping as I flap that it might make a difference?”
“It might help you find the timing you need, but not much else,” she admitted.
A satirical smile pulled across Pensword’s lips. “So, when can I expect to finally have this come naturally?”
“Give it time,” she chuckled. “All things in time.”
“I guess it’s a good thing we have it, then. There are a lot of things I want to do now that I don’t have to worry about my heart giving out on me. Speaking of which, I’m open to suggestions if you have any. And I’ve been meaning to ask if I could shadow you and the other Thestrals to learn more about your culture. If we really are going to be training all recruits, that means we’re bound to have Thestrals arrive eventually, too.”
“I’ll speak with them and ask, but I'm sure they won’t mind.”
“Thanks.” Pensword smiled sincerely this time as he flapped his wings again. “For all of it, I mean. It’s good to know that we have some friends to rely on. And hopefully have the chance for them to rely on us in turn.”
“That's how Thestrals live. ‘The strength of the pack is the wolf, and the strength of the wolf is the pack,’ as the saying goes.”
Pensword smirked. “Would that happen to include if I were to plummet because my wings stop working?”
“Usually, yes.” She nodded.
“Usually? There are exceptions?”
“I mean, it depends fully on how far you are up and how fast you fall,” she pointed out.
“So simple physics. Got it.”
“Yes, magic can do a lot of things, but it can’t passively nullify physics.”
“And I’m using magic right now by flying?”
She nodded.
“I don’t … feel like I’m using any, though. Shouldn’t I know that I’m doing it?”
“Not for passive magic. Only Unicorns really feel it.”
“Even when you control the weather?”
She nodded again
“Well, I guess I shouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth,” he mused. “If you’ll pardon the phrase.”
“I will, but best not say that in Saddle Arabia.”
“Duly noted.” Pensword looked back down and was surprised to see how high they had climbed as they talked. The moonlight shone brightly on the town below, bathing all in its peaceful glow. “Oh, wow.”
Moon shade smirked at him. “Not so hard if you're not thinking about it, huh?”
“So you’re telling me that I shouldn’t think before I act? I’m shocked to hear that coming from a warrior. Shocked, I tell you!” he quipped.
She chuckled and shrugged. Then she smirked. “I think we’re ready to try something a little more challenging now.”
Pensword gulped.
“Knock knock,” Grif said as he knocked on the door of the forge. The building was its usual warmth as the forge fires blazed. Apprentices ran here and there around working bellows, moving coal, getting metal and tools prepared. In the center of it all was the familiar Unicorn barking orders.
“The hell do you want?” Storm Hammer asked, looking at the Gryphon. “In fact, who are you?”
“I’m Grif Bladefeather,” he said, handing her the note with his credentials. “I am currently on contract to this unit for the foreseeable future,” he said. “As for what I require, I have a design I was hoping you might be able to make for me before Hearth's Warming.” he said, also taking out the blueprint.
She looked at the letter and handed it back with a suspicious look before snatching the blueprint and rolling it out. “This looks really complicated,” she said while hmming and hawing. “I mean, it’s not impossible,” she admitted. “But it’s going to take some work.”
The Gryphon dropped a small sack of bits. “Consider this funding for parts. If you need more, contact me.”
She sighed. “I’ll look into this, but no promises,” she growled.
“Much appreciated.” Grif nodded. Little else was spoken of before the Gryphon shuffled off awkwardly while the Unicorn got to work.
Pensword couldn’t stop the nicker that escaped his throat as his lips parted in a giddy grin while trotting side by side with Moonshade. Once he’d gotten past his fear of falling, and had help from the mare in getting comfortable, the rest was as instinctual as it was exhilarating.
“Someone had fun,” Moonshade commented.
“Is it normal to sort of miss being up there?” Pensword asked.
“It’s very normal.” She nodded. “Flight has an addictive quality to it.”
“Is that why most Pegasi stick to settlements like Cloudsdale?”
“Now you're getting it,” she laughed.
“I’d better, if I’m going to go around like this.” He smiled gratefully. “Thanks for the help, Moonshade. Really. It means a lot. With everything you’ve done for us, I hope I can repay the favor one day.”
“I’m doing what's necessary.” She shrugged. “After all, if we don’t stick together, how is anything gonna get done?”
“Friendship?”
“I’m not going to go into a song and dance about that like the Unicorns might.” She shook her head. “For Thestrals, the family is the center of our mentality. We work as a cohesive unit to better everybody.”
“I … wasn’t trying to push you in that direction. Though I will admit I do find those songs catchy. I guess I was just trying to be a little funny? I mean, I know friendship and bonds are a big staple here in Equestria. I’m not trying to belittle that. It’s just, … I’m not a kid or colt who thinks friendship is the answer to every problem either. Our history has taught me that, and in many ways, the present.” He sighed. “I think I need to get some new material. I really don’t know how to make people laugh unless I make myself look like an idiot.”
“You’ll figure it out,” she said, draping a wing over his back gently.
Pensword smiled gently. “Thanks, Moonshade.”
The two strode toward the Punch Bowl together in the early morning light as Celestia’s magic slowly raised the sun above the horizon. “And the princess said ‘let there be light,’ and there was,” Pensword muttered sleepily as they opened the door to the sight of a bloodshot-eyed Berry working to prep the downstairs for the morning. The trio exchanged a set of grim nods, and then Pensword and Moonshade were climbing the stairs.
“Do you think the cadets will take us seriously?” Pensword asked the mare suddenly as they reached the door to their room.
“Why wouldn’t they?” she asked.
“Well, we don’t know whether we really are the legends. And even if we are, we haven’t actually become them yet. Do we really have a right to demand respect on those names?”
“They should respect you anyway. Your actions will prove that.”
Pensword sighed. “Well, at least in this body, I can actually put them through their paces myself. That’s one step better than what I could do before.”
“And keep up with them.” She nodded.
“I suppose. Though we should probably try to get a few hours of sleep before that. I still can’t believe we actually spent the whole night flying.”
“I’m nocturnal,” she reminded him.
“Yes, but I’m not. I guess flying with you made it so I was, though. At least for one night.”
She laughed. “You’ll make me blush.”
“Is that a bad thing?”
“I guess you’ll have to find out.” She smirked as they headed for their room.
The air was alive with the hustle and bustle of the little town as Hammer Strike clopped through the streets toward the base and the waiting forge beyond. Smoke rose high into the air, a sign of the heat that radiated from within the structure as it awaited the embrace of metal to warp and to weave into something new. He looked forward to the next stage of collaboration with Steel Weaver. However, one look at the scowl on the Earth Pony’s face when he arrived at the doors on base made it evident that collaboration would be the last thing on the stallion’s mind. Even more unusual was an almost identical scowl bedecking Storm Hammer’s face.
“Well, that’s a pleasant way to start things off,” Hammer Strike said. “What happened?”
“Oh, we got the new smith in today,” Storm Hammer grumbled. “Of all the smiths in Equestria, we got that one”
“The one you despised working with in Canterlot, I presume?”
Storm Hammer looked to Steel Weaver.
“Aye, Wrought Iron. As stuck up as the nobles, and despises anything that isn’t ‘perfectly up to code,’” Steel Weaver replied.
“Joy,” Hammer Strike remarked with a sigh. “I assume they’re moving their stuff around at the moment?”
“They're trying to. We let the apprentices know they let him move anything and we’ll be hammering them, but he may need to have a more personal reminder. He was eyeing your table last time I checked,” Storm Hammer confirmed.
“Eyeing my worktable?” Hammer Strike raised a brow.
“Yes. Don’t kid yourself. The brat will be trying to look at any blueprints or schematics he can, trying to make corrections so they fit ‘by the book,’” she growled.
“He touches my schematics and he’s not going to be working here for much longer,” Hammer Strike replied flatly.
“Good riddance,” Steel Weaver said. “The lad has talent, but he can’t give a weapon a soul.” He shrugged. “But then again, you’ve broken some nasty habits before. Maybe you can help the lad break this one.”
“With a name like Wrought Iron, it sounds like it’ll be a challenge.” Hammer Strike sighed. “In any case, I assume he’s inside?”
“Aye. Didn’t want to get charged for wringing his neck. Or worse.”
Hammer Strike sighed. “All right, I might as well greet him,” he remarked as he made his way to the entrance.
“Try not to hit him too hard, Lad,” Steel Weaver said by way of farewell as the doors opened and Hammer Strike stepped inside.
The forge was as he always remembered it. It was far from a permanent structure. There was no point in that when they were planning to move into the castle in the Everfree eventually. But the forge served well enough. Its coals burned hot. Its bellows waited to enhance the flames. Red pokers warmed merrily as wave after wave of heat smothered all traces of cold in an instant and wrapped around the space in an all-encompassing blanket.
This was an environment that Hammer Strike was familiar with. In certain ways, it could almost be called a haven. However, havens have boundaries. And woe be to the one that should intrude uninvited. Such a one stared with furrowed brow as he looked over the surface of Hammer Strike’s work table. The glimpse of rich blue paper that Hammer Strike most definitely did not have unrolled before when he was in his human form caught his eye. Were he a lesser stallion, that eye likely would have twitched.
Hammer Strike channeled his outrage and frustration in another way.
“Boy, I would recommend you step back if you know what’s good for you,” Hammer Strike spoke with barely restrained anger.
The stallion that could only be Wrought Iron was a two-toned gray stallion. His mane and tail were charcoal-gray while his coat was a darker shade. A large metallic spike still radiating heat waves served as his cutie mark. He remained surprisingly non-plussed as he looked Hammer Strike in the eye. “I don’t believe we’ve met. You’re certainly not one of the smiths. I’ve already met both of them, professional preferences aside. Were you sent by the human Shawn? Or is there perhaps an order that needs filling?”
“Wrong on both. I am Hammer Strike, and you’re messing with my worktable and my blueprints.”
Wrought Iron cocked his head. “I was under the impression these belonged to the human Shawn. I was in the process of transferring these to better storage to make room until another work table could be ordered.”
“Given his unavailability, the table was given to me so I may continue my work. Your work table is already ordered, and you’ll get it when it arrives. You would have known that had you not already alienated yourself from your peers.”
“I see. Thank you for the information. As for your comment on alienation, I do things by the book. That often gives Ponies the wrong impression of me. Though I wasn’t aware we would be having a fourth smith sent to join this expedition.”
“Then you failed to learn of any potential updates before your departure. You have two superiors to answer to: Lord Shawn and myself, Lord Hammer Strike,” he noted flatly.
That broke Wrought Iron’s composure, causing the stallion to bump into a work table and jostle a hammer to fall onto the floor with a mighty ring. The surprise was soon replaced with fury, however, as he glowered at the stallion. “I don’t appreciate pranks, particularly regarding the smith of smiths.”
“You’ll find I am not one to joke.”
“Then I trust you can appreciate healthy skepticism. I assume you have a document corroborating this assignment and your identity?”
Hammer Strike sighed, rolled his eyes, and reached into his coat. After a moment, he pulled out said document and unrolled it. “Does that help you understand the situation?”
Wrought Iron peered closely at the document, arcing his head back and forth as he checked the quality of the paper, the seal, the signatures, even the smell, though Hammer Strike drew the line when he extended his tongue to try to taste some of the ink. The scroll was quickly rolled back up and returned to his coat pocket.
“I can see why your peers dislike you, if that’s your method of ‘checking authenticity.’”
“I was going to determine the type of metals used in the ink. You’d be surprised what substitutes forgers use to simulate authenticity.” Wrought Iron tossed his mane and rustled his wings. “Given what I’ve seen, I’ll have to accept it as genuine for now. But if you plan on taking a place in this forge, I want to make sure you really are qualified. It’s one thing to be a noble. It’s another to do this kind of work for a living, especially when the strength and effectiveness of the arms we make are a matter of life and death.”
Hammer Strike stared at him for a moment. “You’re really wanting to take these tests that far. Fine, then. I’ll tell you what. I could show you my work, but I get the feeling you’re going to be so thick-headed about it that you’ll come up with some other insane reasoning to keep yourself in the ‘right.’ When your desk arrives, I’ll put you to the test myself. I’ll even let you pick what is to be made. But let me tell you this, boy. If I find you lacking, you’ve got a long trip back.”
“If I lacked, I wouldn’t be here in the first place,” Wrought Iron said.
“And if you were smart, you would have kept your mouth shut,” Hammer Strike responded as he turned to the exit. “Familiarize yourself with your workspace. You don’t have much time to do so.”
As the Pony exited the forge, the two other smiths both looked knowingly at his scowl.
“Bloody idiot,” Storm Hammer spat.
“Keep him off my worktable,” Hammer Strike ordered the two. “If he so much as looks over my blueprints, you let me know.”
“Will do.”
“I’ll be around the camp. Once his work table arrives, I will be back. Keep the forge prepared, as I’m going to test his work, and in turn, show him how a true smith works.”
Both smiths grinned viciously.
After the sheer bullheadedness that was Wrought Iron, Hammer Strike needed something to vent his frustrations. It seemed that the universe had heard that unuttered plea, however, for the familiar sound of heavy exertion and clanging metal immediately drew his attention toward the practice fields. A swift trot to the location soon revealed the source of the commotion as a couple of the recruits were hard at work thrusting, parrying, and otherwise attacking what looked to be a set of dummies not unlike Rarity’s mannequins. A large cart held a bundle of the figures awaiting assembly and setup as some of the Thestrals worked with the more experienced recruits to begin setting up the next figure. Others worked on setting up new targets for archery practice while more fought hoof to hoof in a combat arena layered with multiple rings to gauge distance and the give and take that was always a part of battle.
“Those happen to be the reinforced training dummies we ordered, or are we still using the standard?” Hammer Strike asked as he approached.
The Thestral dispensing the dummies smirked as he looked to the stallion. “Neither. The princesses designed these specifically to handle as much punishment as a Pony can give. They’re strong enough to take a heavy blow from Princess Luna and still have enough left over to pull themselves together again.” He motioned toward the field, where the dummies that were already in place had been slashed and hacked to bits. Before their eyes, a hum and a glow surrounded them before the stuffing returned to its proper location and the breaks and rents in armor and cloth were fully repaired. “They call this the Strike Model Mark One. Apparently, when Captain Nightshade asked about later models, the princesses just laughed.”
“Of course,” Hammer Strike muttered. “In that case, mind setting one up off to the side for me to use? I need to adapt to the more … current ways of combat.”
“Of course, Sir.” A few barked orders later, one of the dummies was standing with a grim expression on its face as it stared down its appointed adversary. “If I may be so bold, Sir, what methods were you hoping to practice first?”
“Honestly, it’ll be a mix of things. For the moment, I’m probably going to just test their resilience with my sword, see how it feels.”
One of the recruits gaped at the sword, then at the stallion. “You can actually use that thing?” A stern glare from a higher ranked Thestral quickly prompted the recruit to finish her answer. “Uh, Sir,” she said lamely.
“Of course.” Hammer Strike gave a smile as he removed the sword from his back and held it in horizontally. “Though it may be a greatsword, there wouldn’t be a point to having it if I couldn’t use it.”
More than a few heads turned and gaped at the stallion as a low murmur began to carry through those who were assembled at the grounds. The phrase, “One hoof?” seemed to be more than common.
“Indeed,” Hammer Strike chuckled. “In any case, let’s see how these training dummies hold up, shall we?” he questioned.
He raised his sword and braced himself against his target. When he’d centered himself properly, he lunged forward, raised his sword and brought it down in a diagonal slash from the upper right to the lower left. He expected the sword to stop. What he didn’t expect was for that stop to come in the form of biting deep into the ground beneath his hooves. He looked first at his sword, then back up to the dummy. Not a single mouth remained closed as the audience watched dummy and pole slide along the plane of the cut that Hammer Strike had left behind with his sword. The figure collapsed, and Hammer Strike stared with inscrutable gaze at the end result.
He continued to stare as the hum of magic went to work and the dummy began to repair itself. True to the Thestral’s word, the figure had restored itself good as new. There were no traces of the damage Hammer Strike had left behind before. The repair functions certainly worked well enough. But as for durability, if that one blow was anything to go by, they still needed some work.
“I … admittedly hoped for more resistance.” He hummed in thought.
“Burning Suns!” the Thestral swore.
Hammer Strike shrugged. “I suppose a greatsword may have been somewhat of a poor test. And since I have no other blades at hoof, perhaps we’ll just go to testing them against raw strength,” he remarked, placing the greatsword on his back once again.
Another murmur began to roll through the gathered Ponies. This time, the clink of coins caused Hammer Strike’s ears to swivel as softly whispered bets curled sinuously through the air. Hammer Strike planted himself once more and stared at the dummy. For all intents and purposes, this thing was meant to be indestructible. If it could take a blow from Princess Luna and still survive, then surely he should be able to do far less to it. He approached, drew back one of his forelegs, tensed his body, and then let it rip.
Hooves are not like hands. They are coated in a solid layer of keratin, and thus insulated against the heavier sensations of impact and burning or cooling. The thickness and strength of the surface was designed to protect and insulate hooves against the great weight and impact that came from the rest of their body mass. Now the power of some of that mass was gathered in one explosive upper cut that rose and connected in a manner that felt almost like slow motion as he stared into the dummy’s false face. For a moment, the squashing of the fabric made it seem almost as if the eyes were going wide with shock. Then the moment was past. Time sped up again. And finally, the head came free with a wrenching POP before flying up, and up, and up until it was little more than a gleam in the blue skies above.
“...That’s not coming down yet, is it?” Hammer Strike questioned aloud.
“I … don’t think it’s ever coming down, Sir,” the Thestral said. An uneasy silence had spread over the training grounds as a cold wind cut through.
“It has to.” Hammer Strike shook his head. “There’s no way I hit it that hard.”
“Sir, with all due respect, if the charm hasn’t worked to gravitate the head back and repair the damage, I think it’s safe to say you did.”
“... Fair enough.” Hammer Strike looked towards the group once more. “You know what? Perhaps it’s for the best if I leave these training dummies with all of you. If this is anything to go on, I’d rather we actually have some for training, rather than me ruining most of them.”
“A wise move, Sir,” the Thestral said in a level tone. Then he turned to glare at the recruits. “Well, what are you all waiting for, an invitation to the Gala? Get back to work!”
The reaction was immediate as an almost frantic sort of energy seemed to pulse through the recruits, filling them with a manic vigor as they threw themselves into their tasks.
“In any case, do there happen to be any updates on the worktable ordered for the forge?” Hammer Strike asked.
“Came fresh off the train in the last supply dump, Sir. It should be arriving soon after it receives its final staining at the local carpenter’s.”
A smile formed on Hammer Strike’s face. “Perfect.”
“Oh, man, how I missed pizza,” Grif said, taking another large bite of the hot slice in his claws.
“It’s even tastier than back home,” Pensword agreed as he chewed the delicate crust and savored the texture while sweet tomato sauce and tangy sun-dried tomatoes mingled with cheese and green toppings to properly finish the blend. “If this is what they do just with cheese and tomatoes, I can’t help but wonder what they can do with other combinations.”
“I don’t know. We’ll have to see when we have a chance,” Grif said. “Maybe at the palace.”
“Though I’m guessing we’ll have to get used to veggie lovers' dishes. It’s unlikely that many meat-based ones would be available, save perhaps for when foreign delegates come,” Pensword said.
“I mean, we could hunt.” Grif shrugged.
“Are there any good hunting grounds around Ponyville?”
“Honestly? There should be,” Grif said. “None of the prey animals have a reason to fear civilization.”
“I’m not sure how Fluttershy would feel about us killing her animal friends, Grif,” Pensword pointed out. “Even if she hasn’t met them yet.”
“The circle of life.” Grif shrugged.
“Fair enough.” Pensword took another bite of his pizza, then paused and cocked his head as one of his ears twitched. “Do you hear that?”
Grif looked in the direction of the sound. “That was something big.”
A few moments later, a blazing streak could be seen rising in the sky above before fading into a pinprick of night. “Well, whatever it is, it’s gone now,” Pensword said.
“Yeah. Let’s hope everyone’s okay.”
“Is it a Tuesday?” Pensword asked.
“I didn’t actually check the calendar.”
“Then there’s a one-in-seven chance that we’ll have to worry.”
“At least the odds are in our favor.” Pensword shrugged. “If it was a big deal, we’d probably hear a commotion for mobilization through the town anyway. That, or townsponies screaming.” He took another bite of the pizza and sighed contentedly. “If all it takes to fly well is happy thoughts, then this will send me straight to heaven and back again.”
Grif laughed. “That’s pizza for you.”
“Grif, I lived in the mountains, remember? We couldn’t even dream of pizza this good.”
“True.” He nodded. “But this is especially good, regardless.”
“So you won’t hate me if I take another slice from the pie.”
“Not at all.”
“Even if it’s the last one?”
“Pretty sure we can get more if need be.”
“Fair enough.” Pensword shrugged. “So, what flavor were you thinking to try this time?”
The air outside was cool and frigid, but Hammer Strike hardly felt it amid the fury that simmered beneath the surface and the anticipation of just how he intended to teach the smug stallion a thing or two about how to work in a forge. It was said experience was the best teacher. What many do not mention is the fact that oftentimes, it’s the hard lessons that last the longest. That, or they repeat themselves because of stubbornness and pride. If Wrought Iron was half the smith he claimed to be, Hammer Strike hoped he would choose the former. But the stubborn smith’s name and very nature stood against him. Time would tell.
The work table was hauled in by a team of carpenters wearing overalls, tool belts, and hard hats. Their features were blocky and rigid, but their smiles were soft and gentle as they greeted their fellow craftsponies. After all, woodworking and smithing went hand in hand. True to form, Wrought Iron made sure to follow the workers in his ever-present need to provide oversight and ensure everything was, “up to standard.”
Storm Hammer and Steel Weaver looked on with stony gaze after the gray Pegasus.
“Idiot’s signing his own death warrant,” Storm Hammer sighed.
“Want to collaborate on a coffin? We can make it a work of art. He’d hate that,” Steel Weaver said with a smirk.
“Yes. I'm sure we got enough pig to do something good,” she laughed.
“Of course, you know we’ll have to stay impartial for this little contest. The lad won’t let us do anything less,” Steel Weaver pointed out as he motioned toward Hammer Strike with a subtle toss of his head.
“He’ll win on merit alone.” She nodded.
Hammer Strike simply hummed in thought.
“You know, once word gets around about this, we’re probably going to have an audience,” Steel Weaver noted.
“Given the legend following my name, I suspected as much,” Hammer Strike replied.
“Honestly, I’m surprised you haven’t been swarmed already, lad,” Steel Weaver noted.
“Knowing my luck, give it time.” He sighed. “It’ll come.”
True to his word, the forge and the grounds around it slowly began to fill as trickle after trickle of curious cadets mingled with apprentices to catch a glimpse of the legend that had supposedly been appointed to oversee the efforts of the humans. One did not bear the name of Strike lightly. And to be entrusted with that name by Celestia carried both the weight of expectation and buoyancy of prestige.
The workers that left the forge were gruff. The softness had been worn away, or perhaps grated, by their short time with Wrought Iron. Their jaws jutted as they clenched their teeth and strode quietly from the space, not trusting themselves to speak. Instead, they doffed their caps toward Hammer Strike, then departed. Hammer Strike’s expression darkened as a result. One more mark against Wrought Iron.
It took another twenty minutes before the Pegasus finally exited the forge to approach the trio, heedless of the crowd that had gathered. “I’m ready,” he said. “Are you?”
“We’ve been waiting on you,” Hammer Strike spoke flatly.
“I meant were there any materials you wanted to have at your bench other than what was already there. We are going to make longswords, after all.”
“I’m sure all I need has already been placed. If there is nothing else, I’d rather get this over with. I have more important things to deal with.”
“By all means,” Wrought Iron agreed and backed into the forge, leaving the door open to allow Hammer Strike and their two judges entry.
“All right, lads, to your stations,” Steel Weaver said. “We’ll have no chicanery or petty tricks here. It’s skill against skill. A balance of quality and production time will both be used to judge the worth of the craftsponies who make today’s weapons. Between the two of us, we’ll decide who produces the better blade. Are the both of you ready?” he asked.
“As can be,” Hammer Strike remarked as he looked over his workstation.
“I am prepared,” Wrought Iron said grimly.
“Then begin,” Storm Hammer ordered.
The two Ponies immediately went to their tables; Hammer Strike to a fresh set of blueprint paper and Wrought Iron immediately to the ore caches. A low murmur of whispers filled the background as Ponies and recruits alike watched, curious as to what each of the smiths would do for their test.
Hammer Strike hummed in thought as he mapped out a design. It was just to be a longsword, and there was no need for anything extra. So, he settled on the form in his mind, something simple and direct. All he could do now was follow the memories of his past experiences, both on his own and the lessons he learned from his uncle many years ago.
Wrought Iron was grim-faced as he took his chunks of ore and brought them toward the fire. A set of heavy tongs helped him to maneuver the ore to the proper location in the coals while skilled hooves manipulated the bellows with the occasional shift of a wing to shift the air currents and keep steady temperature over the ingots while they warmed. It appeared that there were benefits to Pegasi smithing techniques, after all. He was silent and focused, to his credit. Rather than boasting about his skill like Rainbow Dash, he seemed content to focus on the result instead.
Both stallions went to work, and the familiar sounds of a forge were brought to life. Bellows blew and heated the fires within, tools were brought across the workspace to their needed destinations, and soon after, the sounds of hammers striking anvils rang through the air.
Time marched on as the two worked, and the crowd had grown further as even the Guard began to approach and spectate. It wasn’t until the third hour that something finally changed, and Hammer Strike took a step back from his work bench. Wrought Iron pointed toward a series of bins as he continued to hammer away at the dully glowing ore. “Handle materials are over there if you need them.”
Hammer Strike glanced flatly to Wrought Iron. “I suggest you continue to focus on your work,” he spoke before reaching onto his worktable to remove his longsword. It wasn’t a complex piece, but it was exactly as it was meant to be: clean, polished, and grabbing the light of the forge to reveal its splendor. True to his plan, he refrained from adding anything extra. This was a test to prove capability, not artistry. A simple rounded pommel, leather wrapped grip, a standard wide guard, and a clean steel blade were all he needed to show what he could offer. “Because right now—” He walked between Wrought Iron and the two judges, carrying the sword with him. Before anything else could be said, he flipped the sword in his grip and impaled it into the ground. The stone cracked and broke free, allowing the blade to rest within the rock as he let it go. “—You’re wasting my time,” he concluded, turning away from them all and leaving the forge to continue his other work.
Wrought Iron stared at the sword, then at the retreating stallion. Brute strength could account for embedding a weapon into the ground. But passing through stone without breaking or shattering was quite another matter. Despite himself and all of his training, Wrought Iron was drawn to the blade, his cold and rigid demeanor shattered by the sheer incredulity of what lay before him. Nopony could craft a sword in that time, let alone one capable of sundering the very stones beneath their hooves. And yet, there it was. No mortar had crumbled. No grinding had taken place. It was one single blow. And even for a smith, that kind of strength was unusual.
Iron clanged with a guttering flare of sparks as the ingot Wrought Iron had been working on fell to the workshop floor. But Wrought Iron was beyond such perception as he took in the blade and began to examine it. Its edge, its shine, its length and breadth. The blade consumed his focus and attention. Simple though it was, it was beautifully crafted with careful attention to every defining detail. Much though Wrought Iron may have been loath to admit it, this was not the work of an amateur or a pretender.
No, this was a work that could even exceed a master.
“Goddess,” Wrought Iron swore, even as the edge caught against the fur of his foreleg and gave him just the barest trace of a nick.
“Goddess nothing,” Storm Hammer said. “This is what happens when you think for yourself. You see what's needed and what's not.”
“No smith can forge that fast,” Wrought Iron muttered to himself as he shook his head. “Not a one.”
“There is one now, lad. And I’d say you owe him an apology. You can start by taking that stick out of your plot and not snooping through another smith’s private documents. If you don’t, you might just find something else shoved up there with it one day,” Steel Weaver warned sagely. “Second, you can pick up that ingot you left over there and finish what you started.”
Wrought Iron started guiltily as he turned back to the forge and stared at his workspace. The ore had cooled and begun to harden. There was no way to salvage the ingot in its present state. Any sword forged from it would likely crack. It would need to begin again, possibly melted down first. “I … I can’t,” he said helplessly. “Not with that.”
“Then pick up your shoes like a proper stallion and start again.” Then he turned to face the rest of the gathered crowd. “And that goes for you lot, too. Now stop gawking and get back to work!”
Extended Holiday Chapter 24: Past, Present, and Future
“And so, as the morning sun crested the peak of the hill, Lucy and Susan heard a massive crack. And when they looked, Aslan’s body was gone, and the table had been split in two. And then, right there on the hill, strong, healthy, and full of life was none other than Aslan himself,” Taze told a group of foals as they gathered by the fire.
“He’s alive!” Sweetie bawled with joy and relief at the fact that the beloved lion with the big heart had returned from the grave. A few of the other foals joined with her.
“He revealed to them that while the witch was right about the deep magic written in the table, there was a deeper and older magic hidden in it as well, that when one who has committed no treachery should give his life for another, then the table would be broken, and death itself would go in reverse.”
Pensword smiled as he listened to the tale unfold. “An excellent telling. It brings back good memories.”
“And it will have to wait for later to finish.” Taze smirked as he looked at the foals.
A general cry of protest arose from the foals as the human rose from his chair and dusted off his pants.
“Come on now, Taze has business to attend to. An army can’t run itself, and neither can a training camp,” Berry Punch said in her usual blunt manner. “Let the human go about his business.”
“I swear, he has the gift of the bards,” Pensword said as he watched the human bid a fond farewell to his adoring public while they each filed out one by one.
“Storytelling is far older than bards,” Moonshade commented.
“It’s a phrase I heard the one called Matthew use once. It has a sort of poetic ring to it, wouldn’t you say? And Taze doesn’t even need the book in front of him. That’s quite a gift, to have that kind of a memory for a tale so long.”
“I suppose you make a good point.” She nodded.
Pensword sighed. “I wish I could remember like that. Then maybe I wouldn’t be so sore about all of this.” He gestured to himself with a wing. “Don’t get me wrong. I love being me. The flying, the stamina, the freedom, the company. I just … miss being Matthew, too, if that makes sense.” He took a sip of the hot chocolate Berry Punch had provided him, then sighed again. “I still don’t understand how the spell could have gone wrong.”
“You had something the princesses hadn’t accounted for,” Moonshade pointed out.
“But shouldn’t they be able to account for it now? Or at least at some point in the near future? I mean, it’s magic, not rocket science. Right? And the princesses are the princesses. Can’t magic just sort of … figure out whatever went wrong and make it right?”
“I mean, you’re asking them to re-write a spell that was created over a thousand years ago,” Moon Shade pointed out.
“Yes, when they were also still alive and around to know the caster and probably see the notes about it in every draft of its creation. The potential applications for that kind of spell for both diplomatic relations and for military application and espionage are massive. There’s no way it wouldn’t have been brought to their attention.”
“And yet, Matthew was a situation that had not been encountered before. There was no way to predict what would happen.”
“Shawn and Taze weren’t encountered either, and they turned out just fine.”
“They didn’t have what Matthew had.”
“You mean the artificial valves?”
Moonshade only nodded and then looked around. “Where is Lord Shawn?”
“No idea.” Pensword shook his head. “He’s probably finding a way to keep busy and ‘catching up’ on what he’s missed from the time off the mission.”
At that moment, Shawn couldn’t help but sneeze. “Ex Divinia etiam,” he muttered, “I’d better not be catching something.” He was strolling through the town, and still had a few shops to check on for his orders. He was determined to see them done as soon as possible. Beyond that, he still needed to figure out a few last gifts with Hearth’s Warming not too far off. The only problem he was dealing with was his mind felt scattered, as there was just too much to do.
As was normal in Ponyville, the obligatory jump scare had to take place as a familiar pink Pony seemed to spring up out of nowhere, complete with sound effects as she jumped into the human’s line of sight. “Hiya, Shawn!” she greeted. “Watcha doin’?”
Shawn took a step back in surprise. “Ah, hello, Pinkie. I’m just … out gathering some orders and shopping for last minute stuff. Mostly just making sure I have something perfect for everyone, you know?”
“You mean for Hearth’s Warming Eve, right?” Pinkie asked. “I’m really good at figuring out gifts. It’s part of my talent as a party pony. If you need help, just let me know!” she said cheerfully. “Though speaking of parties and gifts, what would you like for Hearth’s Warming, anyway? I can tell you anything any Pony wants in Ponyville, but you’re Mister Secret McSecrets!” she said with a pout.
“I’m not that secretive, am I?” Shawn questioned with a faint chuckle. “I think I have most of my gift ideas in mind for everyone. It’s just a matter of time.”
“You’ve been so busy running that camp that you haven’t had time to talk to me or any of the other girls. And you did hide who you were when you were,” she somehow leaned in at the level of his head and whispered dramatically into his ear, “Hammer Strike.” Then she gasped, levitated even higher in the air, and finally dropped back down to the ground again. “I totally forgot about Hammer Strike! Does that mean I need to get two gifts instead of one? Do I need to do the same thing with the others?”
Shawn gave a brief laugh. “No, Pinkie, I don’t think you need to. I’m quite sure one is just fine for us three.”
“One for all three or one for each of you three? I need specifics, Shawn!” Pinkie cried dramatically.
“I’m sure one for each is fine, Pinkie.” He smiled.
“Mm-hmmmmm,” Pinkie hummed as she narrowed her gaze and rubbed her chin while she scrutinized Shawn. “I think I know what to get you now.” She grinned. “I’m gonna get you something to make you laugh! Everything’s better when you’re laughing!”
“I’m sure you’ll find something perfect.”
“Challenge accepted!” Pinkie offered a sly salute, then zipped off in a cloud of smoke and galloping hooves. However, moments later, the pink mare was by his side again wrapping a foreleg around his shoulders and pointing in another direction with her free one. “By the way, I think I saw Rarity over there. You should go say hi. It’ll make her reeeeeeally happy,” she said mischievously. “Bye now!” Then she was prancing away with a literal spring in her step as the air rang with the twang of each bounce she took along the path.
“Okay...?” Shawn spoke with a raised brow. While he was uncertain of entertaining whatever Pinkie was thinking about, the direction she pointed happened to be where he was heading anyway. “Suppose a brief chat wouldn’t hurt,” he murmured to himself.
Rarity was busy inspecting a stall laden with various fruit preserves when Shawn approached on silent feet behind her and waited.
“I would recommend the peach preserves,” Shawn spoke up.
Rarity let out an undignified squeal of surprise at the unexpected voice, then quickly cleared her throat and coiffed her mane to ensure it was properly styled as she vyed for time to regain her composure. “Oh, uh, Lord Shawn. I didn’t hear you coming. Here to buy some supplies for your friends or are you out doing some Hearth’s Warming shopping, perhaps?”
“I apologize. I couldn’t help myself.” Shawn gave a small smile.”I’m doing a little of both. Mostly the latter.”
“I see. I know you probably know most of Ponyville’s shops already, but if you need any recommendations, I can certainly show you around. And I know how to get some excellent discounts.” The smile she gave was demure, gentle, and incredibly well practiced. It was also forced.
“I certainly wouldn’t mind the company, but, for the moment, how about we just have some conversation?” He smiled softly.
“If that’s what you’d like,” Rarity said as she blushed beneath her fur. “Is there anything in particular you would like to talk about?”
“I don’t mean to pry, but … I suppose the main thing I wanted to ask was if I had done something wrong. I feel like you’ve been … distant.”
“Oh, um … you noticed that. I see….” Rarity’s fur had begun to turn a lovely shade of pink around her face. She took several moments of deep breaths to force the blush back to normal, then drew herself up again and craned her neck to look Shawn in the eye. “The truth is, you haven’t done anything wrong. It’s all so silly, really. You were so kind to me before, and you never tried to push me away or hurt me. It’s just … ohhhh, I feel like a complete fool.” She shook her head. “I suppose what I’m trying to say is that you indulged me when I didn’t know all the facts about your mission in the Crystal Empire, and I’m truly grateful for that fact. I just … feel so awful about taking up so much of your time when, well … we’re actually different species.”
Shawn blinked. “I mean, I suppose we technically weren’t then, but I believe I get what you were thinking. In all honesty, I didn’t really think much on it at the time.”
“Well, I … suppose that makes sense, given the form you were in. It would have felt perfectly natural. It … certainly did for me.” Again, the blush rose in her cheeks, and Rarity took a page out of Fluttershy’s playbook by using her mane to try to hide the color in her face.
“In any case, I’m glad to know what was going on,” he replied.
“Yes. It’s … good that we could clear the air.” She turned back to the seller. “I … think I will try some of those peach preserves, if you don’t mind.” She offered a couple of bits and placed the jar in a saddlebag. With the transaction finished, she turned her attention back to Shawn. “So, did you want to move to wherever you were hoping to shop or … talk some more?”
Shawn smiled. “Why not both?”
“Thanks for being willing to help me with Hearth’s Warming shopping, Moonshade,” Pensword said as the pair strode through the snow-hemmed streets. “Honestly, I think I’d be lost without you to help me figure out where all the best shops and goods are.”
“It’s no trouble,” she said. “It is an important holiday.”
“I still don’t know for sure what would be best for Shawn and Taze, though. That’s the hard part. Should it be practical, emotional, something else?” He sighed. “This would be a lot easier if we still had the internet.”
“The internet?”
“It’s sort of a library, theater, bazaar, and town square molded into one. People can talk with friends over vast distances, search for all kinds of information, watch plays and shows, and purchase almost anything they would like within reason. Even beyond reason, if they were to use the darkweb.”
“Sounds useful, and complicated.”
“Very,” Pensword agreed. “Not unlike magic in its own way,” he said with a wry smile.
“Never let Twilight Sparkle know about it,” Moonshade said in a deadpan.
“Is it really that bad?” Then Pensword sighed and shook his head. “Nevermind. After her insistence on learning about our language and culture, I really shouldn’t have asked that question.”
“So then, doesn’t Taze enjoy stories? Maybe a book of tales?”
“It will need to be something he hasn’t read before, probably. That or a book he never owned. His mind is like a vice. Once he latches onto something he likes, it never goes away.”
“Pretty sure you’ll be able to find something he hasn’t read yet.”
“I suppose in this case there’s literally a whole world of books he hasn’t read. Though with how fast he studied in the archives and library here, I’m not sure how long that’s going to hold true. Any suggestions?”
She shook her head. “I was never much of a reader.”
Pensword sighed. “Then I suppose I’ll have to just ask around. I don’t know if I want to ask Twilight just yet, though.” He winced. “She can be a little….”
“Yeah, probably a good idea,” Moonshade agreed sympathetically.
“Shawn is going to be even harder.” Matthew sighed. “Is it just me, or does it seem like he’s getting just about everything a man could ask for without really asking for it?”
“I mean, if you want power.” Moon shade shrugged. “He seems less enthused about it.”
“I meant more on the monetary side of things. It’s difficult to know what to get a man who can buy almost anything he might want to get. Though, knowing Shawn, I suppose he wouldn’t really think of that.”
“Just get something you think would have meaning.”
Pensword frowned. “That’s going to take time to figure out with everything that’s happened here.”
“He’s your friend, isn’t he?”
“Yes, but that doesn’t always make it easy to figure out the ideal gift.” Pensword sighed. “I guess I’ll just have to keep thinking for now. It will come to me eventually.”
“Probably a good idea.” She nodded.
“Out of curiosity, Moonshade, is there anything you would like for Hearth’s Warming?”
“I dunno, vampire fruit bat meat?”
Pensword cocked his head. “Vampire what?”
“Vampire fruit bats. They’re very tasty, but hard to get ahold of.”
“The only vampire bats we know of back home are the kind that feed on blood.”
“These are more bats that feed on fruit,” Moon Shade laughed.
“Then shouldn’t they be fruit bats? I don’t get it. Where does the vampire part come in?”
“They suck the juice out without eating them and leave the fruit a dry husk instead.”
“Seriously? That actually sounds kind of cool. Though I suppose it would be a problem if too many of them were concentrated in one place.”
“Yes, but it adds a particular flavor to the meat. It rarely needs much seasoning because of it.”
“So sort of like having it marinated in juice without having to marinate or inject it?”
She nodded
Pensword smiled. “Sounds tasty.” Then he sighed. “Too bad I can’t eat much meat right now.”
“Yeah, Pegasi usually prefer fish.”
“I guess it would be easier on the digestive system than most other meats.”
“Maybe. But less filling,” she noted.
Pensword chuckled. “I’ll need to look into how to make you fishsticks, then. You might just change your mind.”
“So what did you think of A Christmas Carol?” Taze asked Mutatio as he sat beside the Changeling.
The Changeling shook his head as he drank from his cup of cocoa. Once more, he had donned a nondescript disguise to prevent causing panic. “I find it … unusual. The dead do not come back to life under normal circumstances, and I have never seen any information about these ghosts other than what has been mentioned in stories. I dislike the fear that they produce. It leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. Though Chrysalis seems to enjoy that particular emotion when it is directed toward her as the focus. That … changes the experience somehow, making it sweet. Perhaps it is because of the fact that love and fear are so closely linked to one another. I admit I do not know what to think of the ending. It seems … unrealistic when compared with the knowledge I had before Matthew broke my connection to the hive.”
“It’s because the idea is hoping for the potential of people to be better than themselves,” Taze explained. “Good and evil aren't always set in stone. And someone's viewpoint may be affected by something as simple as a bad or good day.”
“If good and evil are as you say, then does that not mean that you and your friends will not always be considered on the side of good?” Mutatio asked.
Taze laughed. “You know, there was a hero we told stories about in my world. He always strove to do the right thing, even if that meant being the bad guy to do it.”
“Oh? And what was this hero’s name?”
“Sonic,” Taze said.
“Just Sonic?”
“Well, he was a fairytale, a blue hedgehog who could run at the speed of sound.”
“So he could produce a sonic rainboom, then?”
“Probably pretty easily.”
“Then I can see why he would not be underestimated. The power of a sonic rainboom is potent. Our queen had us take readings from Rainbow Dash when she was practicing the technique. It creates a tremendous outpouring of magic in the skies.”
“Huh, haven’t really taken the chance to look into it up close,” Taze admitted.
“Up close is my specialty.” Mutatio shrugged. “That is what we are made to do to survive. Or at least, I thought it was until I met all of you.”
“What changed?”
“Princess Luna gave me love.” He shrugged. “I had no knowledge that such a thing was possible to achieve. That means that either Chrysalis did not know or she deliberately withheld that knowledge from the hive.”
“Likely the latter, if she wanted you to go to war.”
“Much of what drove us was hunger. Our primary food source is often finite, particularly when the ones we would get it from see what we really look like. Though I believe she may have been … arrogant enough to think there would be no war. Were it not for the spell that was cast from the wedding hall, it is very likely we would not be having this conversation now. To that end, I am grateful for what happened, even if being … alone has been a difficult experience to adapt to.”
“Oh, she couldn’t be that arrogant,” Taze said. “I mean, just taking the capital can help, but it’s not assured victory by any means.”
“The capital, the princesses, and the bearers of the elements of harmony? If she had succeeded, it is probable she would have placed them all under the same control as the one you call Shining Armor after weakening them by absorbing what love she could from them.”
“And the chaos would eventually release the spirit of chaos and disharmony from his imprisonment, who has taken and defeated all three of those at the same time,” Taze pointed out. “Then he’d be powered up and riding high on an entire nation of panicking confused Ponies running hither and thither with no idea what was happening. Hell, some may turn to him for help. Your queen might be strong after that, but not that strong.”
“Our scouts did note an unusual shift in Equestria during the time of that one’s release. He is a force of nature, to be sure. Though the queen had a contingency in the event he sought to conquer the hive. Beyond our borders, however, that safety does not exist.” He frowned. “That is … deeply concerning.”
“He’d have flattened your army and your queen in less than an hour.”
Mutatio’s brow furrowed. “Would he be capable of influencing events from within his prison?”
“With that much fear and panic? Most probably.”
“I mean now, not in an imaginary future.”
Taze shrugged. “You’d have to ask someone more versed in magic.”
“It is merely a query based on what I have observed in a certain someone else we both know who has a particular fondness for chocolate.”
“That's fair. How is that person doing, by the way?”
“She is still gaining mass. It is a fatiguing process, and she demands that I fetch what she desires, though I sense no direct malice in her actions, so I believe it is more a result of her changes taking their toll on her to make her irritable.”
Taze laughed. “Almost sounds like she’s pregnant.”
Mutatio shook his head. “That would require an alpha drone to accomplish, a drone elevated by the queen herself. It is a great honor that few attain. Those who do serve their queens without question, and then die when they have fulfilled their task.”
“That seems nihilistic. Not gonna lie,” Taze said.
“I … am not familiar with that word.”
“It means, depressing … something that sounds empty and pointless.”
“But there was a point. The point was to bring new life to a hive. Do not all creatures expend their vital energy in such a way when they reproduce?”
“Usually it’s not as fatal,” Taze said. “I mean, it kinda sounds like changelings are cut off from experiencing true intimacy.”
“What can be more intimate than sharing one’s thoughts unfiltered? Why else do you think we are driven mad when we do not have a hive to connect to?”
“There are physical ways to express feeling and emotion that thoughts can’t always equal,” Taze noted. “Nuances even a shared mind might miss.”
“That does not seem possible to me when one shares everything in the collective.”
Taze shrugged. “Guess that’s a fair point. Anyway, I have things I need to do. You need anything?”
“”I am … uncertain at the moment. But I will seek you out if that should change,” Mutatio promised.
Taze nodded “I’ll see you later then.”
Mutatio nodded. “Until next we meet, hunter.”
Princess Luna had seen many doors in her life as she traveled through the dream plane. Some were broad barn doors. Others were those of small homes or wrought iron gates. Some were imposing portals at the openings of castles, or hedge arches and bowers with waving portals. For some reason, those always seemed to lead her toward three particularly frightened mares. The poor dears needed a great deal of comfort, and she tried to make their dreams as safe as possible to give them a haven from their anxiety.
However, of all the many doors — plain, trap, or otherwise — she had never before seen one with its own personal guard, … particularly one so very strangely dressed. If she didn’t know better, she would suspect it was not unlike the Mysterious Mare Do Well persona that Twilight and her friends had assumed to teach Rainbow Dash a lesson in humility.
And yet … this one was a human. Did humans also have these kinds of heroes in their world? And could this somehow play into Taze’s psyche? There was only one way to find out. She approached the guard, only for him to quickly shoot a hand out to block her way. The suit he wore was a bright red with black accents, particularly around the eye holes, which appeared to be covered in a strange sort of white mesh. Two swords were sheathed on his back. And although this was the astral plane, Luna could still feel an almost palpable sense of danger as she peered at this stranger.
“Name?” he asked
“Excuse me?” Luna asked him confused.
“I said name, lady. Do you have one or are you just here to gawk?”
“Uh, Princess Luna?”
“Well there’s no ‘Uh Princess Luna’ on the list. Sorry,” he said, pulling a clipboard from nowhere, a perfectly acceptable feat in the astral plane, though very unusual to see outside of a person’s actual dream..
Irked by this doorman’s impudence, Luna tried again, stamping her hoof indignantly. “I am Princess Luna of Equestria,” she growled. How dare this dream talk to her in such a fashion? “And I demand you move aside.”
“Huh? Oh now you’re Princess Luna. Like thats going to—” The man stopped as he examined the list. “Oh, Princess Luna. There you are. Yeah, you can go in.”
Luna could only stare in simmering confusion.
Shrugging, the man stepped aside and gestured to the door. What lay beyond was a vast endless void that seemed to stretch on and on. In the center of it, Taze sat in a high-backed comfy looking chair. A fireplace crackled nearby as he smoked a bubble pipe while reading from a thick bound volume.
“This is not the strangest dream world I've seen, but it seems far from normal,” Luna said, looking around.
“A dream is a simple manifestation of the subconscious,” Taze said, not looking up from the book. “If you can realize it, you can usually control it.”
“The … uh, creature at the door, whom was he?”
“Oh, that's just Deadpool.” Taze shrugged. “You can just ignore him.”
“Hey!” was heard from outside.
“And what, dare I ask, is he exactly?” Luna asked.
“He’s a work of fiction from my world. He fights people, annoys pretty much anyone, and is functionally immortal.”
“I mean, there are immortals, but they're rare enough I'd have to doubt the validity of that,” Luna commented.
“Hey, Deadpool, look in here a moment,” Taze said.
“Huh?” The red and black mercenary looked in, only to be promptly impaled, bisected at the waist, and then beheaded by unseen implements. “Rude,” he growled as the severed head rolled out of the room.
“Okay, that's simply not right,” Luna commented.
“So, may I ask the reason for your visit?”
“Simply checking in on your mental health and well being within your dreams,” Luna said.
“Well, everything’s fine, as you can see.” Taze gestured to the area. “I appreciate the check-in, but this is honestly really weird for me.”
“Are you … trying to kick me out?” Luna asked.
“He was trying to be polite, horsey!” Deadpool’s voice called out.
“Very well. We shall take our leave.” Luna sighed, attempting to phase from the dream, only for it to fail.
“Exit’s that way,” Deadpool called out.
Luna sighed and left.
The door that Luna approached next was very strange compared to others that she had seen. It appeared similar to a vault door one might find at a treasury or bank, but this one was shaped like an oval, and not nearly so large. A small wheel was attached on the far right to function as the locking mechanism, and two great metal hinges bulged out from the left side of its riveted frame. A metal bar was welded on the right side to allow grip for something far smaller than a Pony’s hoof, most likely for human fingers. It was a simple matter for her magic to twist the wheel and unlock the door with a loud metallic clank. What followed was a loud groaning sort of creak as the metal squealed in protest against her opening the door.
Carefully, unused to the steel contraption, Luna stepped through the threshold and into Matthew's dreamscape. “Matthew? Is everything well?”
The moment she spoke, the world exploded into blaring sirens surging from the speakers that suddenly surrounded her in a space that was rapidly breaking free from the shadows of the blackness. Control panels covered in tiny light bulbs, buttons, monitors, keyboards, screens, displays, headphones, and more surrounded the human, who stood in the center of all this cacophony as calm as a stone against the wave. His uniform was pristine white with a white cap and a high collar with golden chains and epaulets. Two shiny metal tubes locked with large circular glass fixtures stood on either side of the chamber.
“Intruder alert!” Matthew cried as he leaped into the air and drew a saber from his hip before he finally caught sight of his supposed intruder. “Oh, … uh, hello, Princess Luna.”
“Hello, Matthew,” Luna said, looking around. “This is quite the contraption, but could you please maybe turn off the alarms?”
“Oh, um … right. I suppose I can try.” He cleared his throat. “Stand down. She’s a friendly. Return to code green.” The sirens finally fell silent, and Luna let loose a sigh of relief. “Sorry about that,” Matthew apologized. “Though in my defense, you are intruding into my dream.” He cleared his throat and brushed some dust off his arm. “This contraption is a vehicle called a submarine. It’s designed to travel underwater, and is used for reconnaissance, research, and battle as the case and model may call for. This one in particular is from my memory of one of our productions called The Hunt for Red October.”
“It’s quite the work of iron. I don’t think I’ve seen a watercraft like this before.”
“Steel, actually. Or titanium. Iron oxidizes and rusts too easily in salt water,” Matthew noted.
“To make so much steel is quite startling,” Luna said.
“Like we said before, our technology is much more advanced than that of Ponies. Why else do you think Shawn is such a great smith?”
“That's a fair point.” Luna nodded.
“So what brings you here, Princess?” Matthew asked.
“I’m merely taking some time to check on the mental health of you three,” Luna stated.
“And you decided it would be best to do so by entering our dreams, rather than just asking us in person?”
“I find one's mental health is best reflected in their dreams.”
“And you think you can figure out my mental health by looking inside an environment you’ve never been in before?”
“Dreams tend to have at least some similar rhythms, and your mind isn’t that alien.”
“I meant more judging what’s going on for me mentally from my dreams. I suspected we’d be capable of all dreaming on a similar wavelength, given the level of intelligence our species seem to share.”
“Your choice of looks may be strange, but dreams cannot harm me,” Luna stated. “I am perfectly safe here.”
“I never said they would. But again, I ask, how are you going to judge my mental status from my dream when the environment is so drastically different from others you’ve been in before? Can these wavelengths somehow tell you how I’m feeling even if I don’t know myself?”
“Sometimes, they can.” She nodded
“There are certain things I probably shouldn’t show you,” Matthew said. “But if you want to ask me how I’m feeling, the truth is that I’m still conflicted. I know everyone is hiding something from me, but I don’t know what to do about it. Here, I can be the me I know, the me I grew up as. Out there, though, I’m still Pensword the Pegasus. And while I enjoy being a Pegasus, that doesn’t mean I want to stay one forever.” He sighed. “I’ve lost my home, my family, and now it seems that I’ve lost my humanity as well, at least temporarily. Don’t I have a right to know why? To know what really happened to me?”
“For now, it’s better off you don’t know,” Luna admitted.
The ping of the sonar resounded through the air with its probing echo. “For how long, Princess? How long am I going to have to stay in the dark? How long am I going to have to stay underwater and just follow my orders not to question? I wanted to be a soldier, but I’m not one, not fully. And if things like this are part of what being a soldier is about, I’m not sure I want it.”
“You must understand sometimes things require the right time to be revealed. And for you, that will mean some preparations.”
“What kind of preparations? And if that’s the case, why hasn’t anyone said anything about it already? I hate not knowing what to do.” He sighed and collapsed into the commander’s chair.
"Preparations on our end, not on yours," Luna explained. "Don't worry. It will be soon, but you need to trust us.”
Matthew sighed. “Trust, I have a lot of. Patience on the other hand….”
“Good things come to those who wait.”
“But will it be good?” Pensword asked. He sighed again. “I suppose only time will tell. In the meantime, would you like a tour of the sub? It’s not like I have much else to do right now.”
Luna nodded and gestured with a hoof. “Sure. Please, lead the way.”
Luna found herself again in front of Shawn’s door. Large and imposing, the door had refused her so many times in the past that she wondered just how strong its owner's mental defenses were. Like many times before, she put her hoof against the door and pushed, fully expecting the door to resist her. To her shock, it opened smoothly and quietly before her. Tentatively, she crossed the threshold for the first time.
Rather than most dreams where the surroundings took shape as she entered, she found herself suspended on nothing. The dream never formed, and instead left a pitch black view surrounding her on all sides.
Luna looked around in confusion. She was used to dreams about nothing, but this was different. Even the concept of nothing was not present here. It was truly empty. “Hello?”
It took a brief search, but eventually she took note of a figure sat some distance away. As she drew nearer, she was able to determine it was Shawn, though his attire was drastically different from what he usually wore. Instead of his dress shirt, coat, and cravat, he wore relatively simple clothes, a pair of dark blue jeans, a black pair of shoes, and a black jacket with a hood, of which the back held some faded design. He was facing away from her as she moved closer. Whether he knew she was there or not, he made no response to her presence.
“Ah, Lord Shawn, I was just hoping to check how you were doing after everything you’ve been through,” she said, approaching slowly. “I can’t help but notice your dream is very … sparsely occupied.”
“It’s been like this for a long time,” Shawn replied as he turned in her direction. “I never could determine whether I had no dreams or couldn’t remember them, but ever since coming here, it’s been a lot more … lucid. And Luna, I would greatly appreciate it if you would drop the lord title.”
“Fair enough.” She nodded. “I’ve seen people with blank dreams before, but to be frank, this is a whole other level.”
He shrugged in return. “Couldn’t tell you why. Even with everything on my mind, unless I ‘force it’, it just stays like this. I suppose it’s useful for keeping my mind focused.”
“I’ll need to do some research. I’m fairly certain this isn’t healthy.”
“It isn’t.” Shawn sighed. “Neither is insomnia flaring up as bad as it has been since arriving here. Neither are these constant waking nightmares that I can never remember. Neither is this damned feeling of paranoia, like I’m being watched at every waking moment of my life. The worry of all these expectations thrown on me and the stress of just trying to live-” his voice rose with each sentence. And for a brief moment, his clothes shifted to the familiar blue and gold long coat he had been wearing in Equestria before it shifted back as he sighed, placing a hand on his head and closing his eyes. “I’m not healthy. I don’t even think I’m mentally sound.”
“I’d like to help, if you’d allow me to.”
“In what way?”
“There are plenty of spells or potions I could use to help fortify your rest and aid you in relaxing your mental state while asleep.”
“While I would be willing to test anything to assist my sleep, I do not want anything that would tamper with my mental state.” Shawn frowned as he looked back over the emptiness that was his dream. “While it may be safe, I worry over what I would be like.”
“That is fine. I’ll be sure to have some sleep draughts made for you.”
“I appreciate it.” Shawn sighed. “While it may cut back on my productivity and work, I can only hope to work faster to counteract it.”
“I wish I could do more immediately to help you, but, unfortunately, it will need to serve.”
“To be honest, I doubt there’s much else that could be done. Even if you were to miraculously find a way to send us home, recovery wouldn’t happen. I feel so disconnected that I don’t even know if I could personally recover from all this.”
“Then the first step is finding a connection,” Luna noted. “Something to tether you.”
“That’s the thing,” he replied, finally standing up. “I feel like I couldn’t because I feel stuck between two connections. What am I supposed to do with this? Stay here and give up on my home, the friends and family I left behind, or go home and burn the bridge and connections I’ve made here? I don’t want to connect to one or the other, because I feel like I’m losing a part of myself with either choice.” He placed a hand on his forehead.
“A very bleak way to look at it,” Luna commented.
“I doubt the world would be kind enough to give me a choice between.” He frowned. “And don’t even get me started on the situation with Matthew. How the hell are we supposed to figure this out?” He threw his arm out to the side. “I can’t think of a single possible way to try and help him.”
“We’re working on the problem, though we don’t have a lot of leads at this time. Magic just wasn’t made for these kinds of things.”
“That’s the problem,” Shawn spoke up as the dream shifted beneath his feet and he turned to face Luna again. “Nobody here knows how to make a pacemaker. He can’t live without it. When turned to a pony, the machine that kept him alive was turned to flesh and blood, and it worked. But therein lies the problem,” he said as marble floor formed beneath his feet. Pillars and walls rose and closed around them as a familiar room greeted their presence; the same room where, days ago, Celestia and Luna attempted to change each of them back. Luna and Celestia stared in shock while Taze’s mouth was agape in horror, frozen in the scream on his lips. Shawn’s still form crouched over Matthew’s body, his hand on the still form’s chest. A blue tinge had come into Matthew’s lips, and his eyes were blank and unseeing. Shawn’s face was exposed as he stared with grim determination at the solar princess, an unspoken command on his lips.
Luna took in the dreamscape around her with scrutiny. She’d encountered many keen minds and eidetic memories, but the detail around her was astounding even by those standards. Shawn had managed to commit things to memory that many Ponies would have missed. She gave a short frown as she realized this could be part of the issue. So much memory could lead to problems in anyone's brain.
“None of us know how to make them. He can’t live without it. So when he was turned back, he was turned back with the frail heart he had before with nothing to support it.” He growled to himself. “I don’t blame you. I don’t blame any of you, but … damn it,” he swore through gritted teeth.
“It was not something any of us could have predicted. When you gave the order to change him back, we were reacting mechanically.”
“I’m just glad it worked.” He let the tension out of his body. “Ex Divinia etiam, I’m glad it worked. I just wish we could figure out the next step now.”
“We are looking into every possibility.”
“Unless you can figure out some equivalent of a pacemaker, I have a feeling it’s not happening any time soon. We would need a breakthrough unlike anything I’ve seen in this world so far.”
“Faith tends to work wonders if you have some,” Luna said evenly.
Shawn gave a shrug in response.
“We will find a way, Shawn. Just give it time.”
“I’m sorry. You’ll have to forgive my pessimism.” He sighed. “Despite the bravado I put up most of the time, I constantly worry. Worry over events, plausible outcomes, even worry over playing the role you’ve given me.” He gestured to his side as the form of Hammer Strike appeared.
“Which certainly makes things more complicated than I’m used to,” ‘Hammer Strike’ spoke with a shrug.
Luna sighed. “I’m sorry. There are things at work that none of us fully understand yet. I wish I could give you the answers you deserve.”
“Honestly, I don’t expect much for answers. Not to say anything against you and your sister, but more along the lines of the situation feels like it would require external force for something to change at this point.” Shawn shrugged as the form of Hammer Strike disappeared in a blink.
“There are still things that could come into play. No one knows what might happen yet.”
“I suppose. As said, maybe it’s just the pessimism talking, but I just … have a feeling, for some reason.”
“One's gut should never be left unheeded,” Luna said with a nod.
“Then, … do you happen to have advice on the constant paranoia that’s been at the back of my mind since coming here?”
“Talk to people you trust. You may find they have similar problems.”
“Apart from standard anxieties, they don’t appear to have it to the same level I do. Yet, I can’t seem to ignore it.” He sighed once more. “I don’t know. I’m probably just worrying too much, and it’s bleeding over into everything.”
“You're dealing with more than anyone should reasonably have to,” she acknowledged.
“It sure feels like it,” he replied as his shoulders dropped slightly. The room around them faded back into the nothingness from before.
“I’m sorry to say it sounds like there isn’t a lot I can help with right now.”
“That’s all right. You at least tried.”
“I’ll keep you informed if we make any breakthroughs.”
“I appreciate it,” he replied with a nod.
As Luna was about to depart, Shawn spoke up once more. “And, one more thing.” His voice rang out, though his tone had shifted and felt cold.
Luna's eyes widened as she looked towards him. His presence had changed. Something far colder was speaking now.
“Keep yourself at a safe distance. Your will may be strong, but I see where cracks may form. You. Aren’t. Prepared.” He spoke, and the second he was done, she found herself standing outside Shawn’s door, watching as it faded with his sudden awakening. His ‘waking nightmares,’ no doubt.
Luna stood still for several minutes trying to contemplate what she’d just seen. Unable to fully cope, she decided she needed to talk with Celestia soon.
The smell of hot pancakes, lucious butter, and rich amber syrup wafted into the nostrils of every tenant at the Punch Bowl as Berry Punch served up one plate after another after another. It was too early for most people to drink, so they satisfied themselves with orange juice, milk, or water. The humans ate in silence with Pensword, Moonshade, Me-Me, and Mutatio.
“So, … I had a visit from Luna last night,” Pensword finally said.
“I did as well, though I strangely find it hard to remember,” Shawn spoke up.
“Oh yeah, that was interesting,” Taze nodded. “She kinda just walked in.”
“What did she talk with you about?” Pensword asked curiously.
“She said she was just checking up on us.” Taze shrugged.
“Us?” Pensword asked. “Do you mean us as in the group or us as in there’s more than one consciousness in your mind?”
“Yes,” Taze said with a smirk.
“Should we be worried?” Pensword asked.
“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Shawn spoke up before humming in thought.
“Are we going to develop alternate consciousnesses, then?”
“I think that’s dependent on your mind.” Shawn looked to Pensword.
“And body, I suppose,” Pensword said glumly as he looked at his hooves again. “Luna said there were preparations that needed to be made before I could find out what happened on that day I blacked out.” He sighed. “I suppose I’m one of the few people who can literally say they understand what it means to be uncomfortable in their own skin. Not that I don’t feel comfortable in this form. It’s just … not quite the same, you know?”
“I understand what you mean, just not to the same extent.” Shawn frowned and sighed.
“Because you’re human?” Pensword asked.
“...Because I survived,” Shawn spoke softly.
Pensword cocked his brow. “I mean, sure, we all survived the empire—”
“Not the empire.” He spoke up once more. “We survived the invasion, all of this, the empire, but there was one thing that couldn’t be changed.” After a moment, he sighed. “Your pacemaker. They could convert it to flesh, but they don’t understand how it was made or worked. The spell they used turns you into the equivalent of your counterpart, who you would have been. On Earth, … you needed mechanical help, and the spell doesn’t account for that.”
The atmosphere was silent for a time between the friends as Pensword processed Shawn’s words. Finally, he spoke. “So, what you’re saying is it’s not a matter if I can turn back. I did. But….”
“But the spell wasn’t able to replace your valves,” Taze said. His grip on his fork tightened. “You died, Matthew. Right in front of us.”
“I … should have at least remembered the first few seconds before my blood stopped flowing,” Pensword mused in that eerily calm tone that lay somewhere between shock and a mental break.. “Did … did you ask Luna and Celestia to take that away?”
“No.” Shawn shook his head. “It’s likely repressed, somewhere in your head.”
“I guess that explains why I’ve been dreaming about bunkers and submarines lately….”
“Probably.” Shawn looked to Pensword. “They said they’re trying to figure out a way, but, I won’t guarantee anything. It’ll likely be a long time until that day comes.”
“So, … I’m alive, but I’m also dead. And the me that’s dead can’t exist if I want to keep living. Does … that mean I’m going to have to stay in Equestria if we find a way home?”
“I don’t know. I doubt it, but I don’t have enough information. We arrived here as Humans, so it’s likely the reverse is possible.”
“I’m sure they’ll figure something out,” Taze said in a reassuring tone. “If need be, perhaps,” he looked around, “you-know-who can be persuaded to help.”
“I’m … afraid I don’t know who you’re talking about, Taze,” Pensword said.
“Iscorday?”
“No!” Pensword shouted harshly, then cleared his throat and looked sheepishly at the gawkers before returning to a softer tone. He leaned in more closely to his friends. “We both know he would twist anything we try to ask him to do and tie Equestria into a pretzel while he’s at it. I won’t make a deal with the devil just to get back what I lost.”
“A wise decision,” Shawn agreed. “Though I’m curious whether you were serious or joking,” he said as he looked at Taze.
“Just playing devil's advocate.” Taze shrugged.
“So, … do we have a plan for forming a road once we’re set up in the palace?” Moonshade asked.
“The main focus is on forging a safe path first,” Shawn replied. “We need to have a steady supply of materials to aid in restoring the castle and its surroundings.”
“And we’ll need to be ready to fight against any creatures that try to stop us,” Pensword added.
“Well, my group will be ready,” Taze said. “They’re coming along nicely.”
“I suppose we should catch up on who’s been naughty and who’s been nice, too,” Pensword said. “We only have about a month or so before spring comes, and we need to make sure everything is well coordinated for the fight ahead. I’d rather we not have to deal with timberwolves slaughtering troops because they can’t tow the line.”
“Only time will tell. Until then, we can just continue training them the best we can.” Shawn shrugged.
“Any thoughts on potential emblems yet?” Pensword asked.
“A few,” Shawn said simply.
“Taze?” Pensword asked.
“Not yet, but I'm working it out.” Taze shrugged.
“I thought the point of this training was to unite the soldiers. Emblems are well and good for seasoned soldiers, but is it wise to use them for recruits who haven’t come to understand the importance of their unity yet? Moonshade asked.
“It’s also a point of giving them something to attach to as they train,” Taze pointed out.
“Is that not what their commanding officers are for?”
“No, they’re for maintaining order.”
“We do need to consider those who don’t wish to rally, though,” Pensword pointed out.
“We’ll need to blow that bridge when we come to it.” Taze shrugged.
“Keep those explosives far away from the cadets,” Pensword said. “We have enough problems getting the newbies from Canterlot to let go of their prejudices.”
Taze rolled his eyes “Figure of speech.”
“We’re dealing with construction and deconstruction both soon, Taze. Explosives aren’t off the table to assist with that work if needed,” Pensword pointed out. “By the way, Shawn, what do you … think…?”
Where Shawn had once been sitting, only empty space remained.
“Where did he go?” Pensword asked.
“That is the great question, my friend,” Taze said sagely, and then returned to his breakfast.
A tall figure in a fitting coat strode on booted feet through the snowy square of the town’s marketplace. A large sack hung over his shoulder, bulging with mysterious bounties that inquiring minds could only guess at. This figure, however, was not trimmed in ermine, nor did he have a snow white beard, nor rosy cheeks, nor a belly that shook like a bowl full of jelly when he laughed. He was well built from his time working the forge, helping at the Apple farm, and fulfilling his duties teaching the various recruits how to be proper soldiers. It was also possible that at least a little bit of his Earth Pony strength may have lingered after he turned back, but he wasn’t about to look too closely into that when the benefits spoke for themselves.
Shawn was on the move, and he looked forward to buying a few more supplies for himself and his friends to enjoy.
“Let’s see,” he muttered, searching inside his coat with his free hand. Shortly after, he pulled out a list and read it over. “Got that, that too. Still have another day to wait on that….” He hummed in thought.
“Well butter my biscuit if it ain’t the hero of the Crystal Empire,” a familiar twang rang in the human’s ears as a grinning Applejack tipped her hat to Shawn. “Been wondering when we’d be seeing you again. You haven’t dropped by the farm lately.”
Shawn gave a short chuckle as he turned to face Applejack. “It’s been busy. Everything been okay at the farm lately?”
“Not bad. Hearth’s Warming’s a good time for business. Lot of folks lookin’ for something warm and sweet, and you know how well we Apples provide.” She chuckled. “Gotta say, that was some mighty fine tapdancing ya did back on the train up north, though. I don’t think you told a single lie on that trip in either direction.”
“You’ll find I’m quite direct in how I talk.” Shawn gave a smirk. “Though, I’ll admit at times that I may be a bit too blunt.”
Applejack shrugged. “Can’t be worse than when I ask about somethin’ that happened.”
“Fair enough. In any case, how’s business treating you today?”
“Got a good haul. Most folks in Ponyville like all kinds of sweets, but ain’t nopony can make an apple dessert better than an Apple. You can count on it. And speaking of dessert….” She reached into the cart to remove a miraculously steaming pie and passed it to the human, still smiling. “On the house, courtesy of Granny Smith. You know how she can be about getting enough to eat.”
“That, I do know,” he chuckled, placing the sack of materials down before reaching into his coat.
Applejack raised a hoof. “I said on the house, Shawn. And I meant it. Granny’d skin me alive if she knew I took money from you for it.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m just making a holiday donation to a family run business.” He gave a smile as he placed a small pouch of bits down on the counter. “You wouldn’t spurn my good will now, would you?”
Applejack looked pensively at Shawn, then the bag, and finally shook her head. “Granny wouldn’t want it.” She rubbed her chin. “Might take an investment, though, if’n you’re willing to put it in that light.”
“I certainly wouldn’t mind investing in the Apple Family.”
“Just so you know, we make good on investments,” Applejack pointed out. “Granny’ll want to give you whatever’s due for the amount you give. Fair’s fair, after all.” She smiled gently. “But I think I can say we appreciate it. All the more because it comes from a trusted friend.”
“I’m glad to hear that.” He smiled, then looked at the sack of materials he put down to figure out how he was going to carry his stuff while maintaining at least one free hand. Finally, he reached down, took the sack, and shifted it under his arm, pinning it against his chest while he took the pie in the same hand. “There we go. I hope you have a great day, Applejack. And do pass along well wishes to the rest of the family if you can.”
“Always do, Shawn. Always do. And you stop by for a visit soon, y’hear?” Applejack called as she waved after him.
“I’m sure I’ll find the time to do so.” He chuckled as he continued onward. He was stopped, however, as he rounded a corner and nearly ran directly into two individuals.
“Pardon me, do you mind? We’re in a bit of a hurry and….” The brown stallion gaped at the human for a moment, then grinned. “Blimey, if it isn’t Lord Shawn! Now this is what I call a blast from the past! Still got that ear intact, I see. Happy Hearth’s Warming!”
“Happy … Hearth’s warming?” Shawn replied with uncertainty as he subconsciously raised a hand towards his head, only to shake his head and lower the hand again. “That’s a worrying thing to know,” he muttered before looking back at the two. “Based off what I was told, it’s a pleasure to meet you both, Doctor, Derpy,” he addressed, giving a nod toward the two.
“Hi!” Derpy waved a hoof happily and pulled a muffin from a basket she’d been carrying. “Muffin?”
“Uh, normally, I’d accept. Though, I’ll have to politely refuse this time, as I only have one hand free.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll drop it by the Punch Bowl later.” She smiled kindly at Shawn. “It’s always nice to meet The Doctor’s friends. And any friend of my Doctor is a friend of mine!”
“So, what brings you around the marketplace today? Off for a bit of last minute holiday shopping for Hearth’s Warming for a special somepony?” The Doctor asked.
“Mostly materials this time around for the gifts I’m making,” Shawn explained. “And, not quite.”
“Then your friends are in for a right treat.” The Doctor chuckled. “Do a little spit shine and polish for some of it, or is it all going to be fresh? Either way, I’m sure you’ll do wonders.”
“New things. I’m hoping it comes out well.”
“A few late nights in the forge and you’ll make a diamond from the rough,” The Doctor assured.
“I’m sure you’d know better than I do now,” Shawn replied with a soft sigh.
“Better than you do now? What’s that all about? The Shawn I know knows better than to doubt his own skill.”
“Doctor, I technically only started smithing a little over a month or two ago.” Shawn replied with a raised brow.
“Oi, oi, oi! Watch where you point that thing!” Then the Doctor blinked as Shawn’s words sunk in. “Wait, what? Seriously?” The Doctor stared at him. Then his eyes went wide. “Oh. Ohhhhhh. This … this is the first time we’ve actually met for you, isn’t it?”
“Yes. Though, I know of your existence and an idea of your potential, but I haven’t truly met you until now.”
“Well, uh … in that case, good to meet you.” He stuck out a hoof awkwardly as he flipped his scarf more tightly around his neck. “You already have my name, but most folks round these parts call me Time Turner. Makes things simpler for the locals.”
Derpy giggled. “And it’s kind of cute.”
The Doctor cleared his throat as a blush rose in his cheeks. “Yes. Well, … that, too, I suppose.”
Shawn gave a faint chuckle before wrapping the hoof with his hand and shaking. “Shawn Viginti. And I’m certain you know Hammer Strike.”
“Ooh, which one?” Derpy asked.
“Which … one?” Shawn looked very confused at the question.
“Yeah, there are lots of them in history,” Derpy said with a helpful smile. “For some reason, they all wear—”
“And that’s enough of that,” Doctor Who said as he quickly placed a hoof to Derpy’s mouth. “Spoilers, darling. Some things, they have to figure out on their own, remember?”
Shawn looked between the two for a moment. “I … was told I’m potentially the original by Celestia?”
Derpy frowned. “Didn’t you say the original Hammer Strike fixed—?”
“Oh, would you look at the time! Sorry we couldn’t chat longer. Places to go, things to do, people to save, words to protect, you know. Bye!” The Doctor said hastily as he raced along the streets, pushing his wife before him.
“Allons-y…?” Shawn spoke up, watching the retreating form of the Doctor and Derpy. After a few seconds, he shook his head. “I’ll figure it out later.” He sighed. Once the two were out of sight, he started back toward his next destination.
The buzz of rapidly beating wings was the only warning Shawn had. With lightning speed, he quickly leapt aside as a familiar orange Pegasus came blurring by on her scooter hauling a bright red wagon with three passengers behind her.
“Sorry!” Dinky called back as they zoomed by. “We have to get those muffins! Sweetie Belle!” And then they were gone.
Shawn couldn’t help but chuckle as he watched the group ride off. Thus, with a smile on his face, he made his way towards his destination.
The Forge.
The train hissed as it finally settled into the station. Its steam wafted through the air in clouds that mingled with tiny flakes to melt them. Snow decorated the roofs of the many buildings and the edges of the lanes to look almost like a massive gingerbread construction brought to life. The whole city practically spewed holiday cheer with garlands, wreaths, bells, and more in honor of the special day that approached. As Shawn stepped onto the platform with scroll in hand, he nearly bumped into a pair of unusual looking guards. Unusual in the fact that, for once, they didn’t have the usual white coats and rigid manes that the rest of the Solar Guard seemed to sport. They did, however, look identical to each other.
“Lord Shawn.” The stallion on the right bowed his head respectfully. “The princess has sent my brother and me to escort you to the castle. Per her orders, any nobility that comes from outside the city is to be properly escorted and checked before proceeding into the castle.”
“A few. One of the primary ones being to check for Changeling infiltration or control,” the second guard said.
Shawn looked down at himself for a moment. “Don’t think you have to worry about that part, for myself at least,” he noted.
“Maybe, but protocols still need to be followed. Otherwise, some nobles might complain about preferential treatment. And like we said, just because you’re not a Changeling doesn’t mean you can’t be under one’s influence.”
Shawn shrugged once more. “I suppose that’s fair, though given the hatred felt between us,” he reached into his coat and proceeded to pull out the dagger made by Luna out of Chrysalis’s horn. “I think she’d kill me first. In any case, I understand either way,” He finished, placing the dagger back in its sheath.
“Then let’s proceed. The princess is expecting you.”
The journey to the throne room went as expected. There were no sudden attacks, no explosions, no screaming civilians. For all intents and purposes, it looked as if the attack on the city had never happened. Only the increased presence of guards gave any indication of what had once transpired. Some Ponies whispered or pointed at the human as he passed with his escort. Others peeked from their holiday business to try to get a glance of the one who had sacrificed himself in order to protect their homes from certain disaster. Fortunately, nopony tried to waylay them for the chance to meet Shawn in person.
The throne room was guarded, surprisingly enough, by an additional member. The Pony was decked in a Victorian shirt and jacket complete with cravat and a mane curled to look almost like a wig. “Greetings, gentleponies. Have you come to seek an audience with the princess?”
“I’ve been summoned by Celestia,” Shawn spoke up as he pulled the summons out of his coat.
The seneschal took the scroll and reviewed it, then nodded. “Then I will announce you.”
The doors opened, and the Pony puffed himself up before rapping the butt of a metal-tipped cane on the floor. “Presenting his Lordship Lord Shawn of Earth!”
Shawn, in turn, gave a casual wave towards Celestia while the other nobles and supplicants turned to stare at him.
“Lord Shawn.” Celestia inclined her head toward the human.
“Hey,” Shawn replied as he moved over. “You called for me?”
Celestia smiled. “Indeed, I did. Welcome, Shawn.” She peered at the scandalized faces of the nobles. “I’m afraid I will have to cut our audiences short for today. We will resume at another time. For now, I must bid you farewell. There are certain things that I must discuss with Lord Shawn.” She rose. “Seneschal, if you would kindly escort our supplicants back out of the castle?” she asked.
“As you wish, my lady.” The seneschal bowed.
As the two strode out of the throne room with Shawn’s guarded escort in tow, Celestia couldn’t help but smile. Then they entered a back hall, where Celestia grinned. “I haven’t seen the nobles that frustrated in ages. That had to be one of the best Hearth’s Warming gifts I’ve ever received.”
“Oh?” Shawn questioned.
“They put too much value on rank. Your casual greeting was perhaps one of the greatest affronts you could have given to them. It also gave them the impression that we have a much closer connection than they may have suspected, which makes it that much easier to outplay them in politics.”
Shawn hummed briefly. “Fair enough. I admittedly didn’t put much thought into it. In any case, you summoned me, so here I am.”
“Indeed,” Celestia said. “We called you here for a few reasons. One of them being the gift that my sister and I have made for you. It is to be one of two that we hope to create, assuming it proves useful to you.”
Shawn raised a brow questioningly. “Oh?”
“You’ll see soon enough. Let’s get to my quarters first.”
The journey was uneventful as the four traveled to the princess’ personal chambers. The two guards insisted on waiting outside to guard the way and give the two nobles their privacy. The sun motif was strong, as was the symbolism for royalty with mixtures of almost blinding white, glittering gold, and royal purple portrayed throughout the space. Her bed was circular with red and purple bedding and pillows. Golden curtains hung from the canopy, and a great sun unfurled its fiery tendrils along the carpet to fill the space with its presence and give the impression of an all-encompassing warmth.
“I believe this may be the first time I’ve brought you here before, now that I think about it,” the princess noted.
Shawn hummed briefly. “Sounds about right. Though, I do wonder about why we would need to be here for this reveal.”
“Privacy, of course,” Celestia noted. “After all, what I’m about to show you would technically qualify as a state secret.” She ignited her horn, and an ornately carved wooden box levitated toward them. From it, Celestia withdrew a golden bracelet that looked less forged than carved for its details. Ridges rose and fell to reveal artistic swirls that could be interpreted as mist, waves, or mere accents. A golden hammer had been carefully etched above a ruby anvil placed in a golden setting. Tiny ruby fragments lay still on either side of the anvil to mimic the act of sparks flying as the hammer blows fell. “I’d like you to try this on for size.”
Shawn accepted the bracelet, his questioning gaze having never left, and placed it onto his left wrist. After making a few quick gestures with his hand, he nodded. “Fits well. I presume the ruby has something about it?”
“You presume correctly. But first, lay the palm of your hand over the ruby.”
Shawn performed the action. Celestia then touched her horn to the top of his hand. A dim glow emanated from the gem to answer the one along her horn until the flesh on his hand became partially illuminated. Then the light died.
“There. It’s bonded now,” Celestia said. “Go ahead and turn the setting so the anvil faces upside down now.”
Shawn once more did as he was told. Light flashed through the room as the human was consumed. When at last the energy faded, a stately Earth Pony in a familiar blue coat hemmed with gold stood where the human once had been, staring at the diarch.
“That was … very disorienting, and abrupt,” he remarked, then looked down to his hooves and the familiar bracelet. The change had ensured the anvil once again stood in its proper place, facing up for all the world to see. “A charm to change between Pony and Human form. That’s actually quite useful.”
“We thought so as well. It will give Hammer Strike the ability to make appearances when he needs to in order to maintain his dominion and oversee operations as appropriate. We also plan to craft another device for Taze so that he may assume the guise of Grif again if he wishes. That will take time, however. Luna is nothing if not thorough in her work, something that we were taught a very long time ago. The metalwork and smithing is hers. The design and enchanting were a combined effort. So long as you don’t use it too often at one time, the enchantment’s charge will remain strong and it will feed on the ambient mana surrounding it to restore its energy.”
Hammer Strike nodded. “Though it takes time, it’s better to perform the task less than repeatedly.”
Celestia chuckled. “Indeed.”
“Thank you. And do pass my thanks to Luna as well. I’ll definitely be able to put this to use.”
“You’ll also be putting two good stallions to use. A lord shouldn’t be without his personal guards. I’ve picked yours especially to match your unique tastes in character as well as personality.”
After a moment, Hammer Strike gave a brief glance to the door. “Safe to assume it’s the two that have been guiding and following me since I arrived?”
“Naturally. They won’t be able to begin their duties officially until after the holiday, but I wished for them to have the chance to meet you here first. If it were anyone else, I have a feeling you would have been tempted to either demoralize them or get rid of them by any means short of killing or maiming. These two, however, are more practical than most other guard members. And while it saddens me to see them go, I believe you and your friends have the potential to bring out the best in them at their new post.”
Hammer Strike blinked a few times. “Am I really that negative?” he spoke softly in thought.
“You have every reason to be, given what’s happened to you and your friends.”
“I … don’t fully think so.” He frowned. “I mean, with the soldiers we’re training, sure, it makes sense to a point. Beyond that, however….”
“Would you rather deal with politics all day and have to dine with all the lords and ladies here in Canterlot?” Celestia asked as she raised a brow of her own in a startlingly good impression of Shawn’s habitual expression.
“No,” he replied flatly. “I was leaning that point more toward civilians and guard or soldiers not in our ranks.”
“Well, I admit I can’t be a full judge of your character there, since most of your time with those individuals has been in Ponyville. The only time I get to see you here is usually in an official capacity. It’s ultimately up to you to figure out whether that really is how you are in those sorts of situations.”
Hammer Strike hummed in thought. “Fair enough. Also, how much do my new personal guards know? As in, will I need to change back to human to walk out of here without questions, or are they trustworthy enough that you already cleared them?”
“They’re honorable and noble.” She looked thoughtfully at Hammer Strike and pursed her lips. “They are trustworthy, though if you tell them the truth, they will likely be surprised at first. You will likely be asked a number of questions, but they are loyal. And more importantly, they aren’t incompetent. You’ll need to get used to one another, but I believe they have the potential to serve you well.”
Hammer Strike nodded. “All right. Was there anything else you wished to talk about?”
“Talk may not be the right word. Let’s just say I have another surprise for you for Hearth’s Warming, but that will be coming later.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Was there a message you’d like me to give Luna? I assume you don’t intend to stay in the city for long.”
“Primarily my appreciation for the charm. I don’t really have much on my mind for other points at the moment, I’m sorry to say.”
“That’s no problem. Luna will be glad to hear that you approve so much of her work. If she had the time, I wouldn’t be surprised if she asked you to collaborate with her. Your techniques are apparently very formidable if the letter I received from Wrought Iron is any indication.”
“Considering how long Luna’s been smithing for in comparison to myself, I doubt I’d be able to contribute much beyond the small tricks that I know from my home. As for the situation with Wrought Iron, I admittedly got a little prideful, and am glad that I managed to actually back up my words.”
“You did more than back them up. You shifted the stone that’s been hanging around his neck since his apprenticeship. That’s no simple thing. I believe you may find him a little more receptive now than he was previously.”
“I’d certainly hope so.” Hammer Strike sighed. “Catching him looking over my blueprints was … not something I was happy to see.”
“In a way, you’ll be training those smiths almost as much as you do your troops. They have incredible potential if you can get them to work together.”
“We’ll see how that goes, especially given the feelings between them.”
“I trust you and your friends will find a way. You have a way of bringing about the impossible almost as much as Twilight and her friends do.”
“You have a lot of faith in us,” Hammer Strike remarked. “Given our backgrounds, this has all been through luck and past knowledge so far.”
“Faith is one of the most powerful forces in the world, Hammer Strike. So long as it isn’t blind.”
“Celestia. I was a carpenter with a minor bit of knowledge in sewing to make my coat. I’m having to fill the role of a mythical smith using knowledge I gathered from my uncle when he taught me years ago. It’s a miracle I’ve made it this far, double that if you count my miraculous survival from months earlier.”
“Then it’s a good thing you don’t stand alone, isn’t it? Though I still think you’re being too modest about yourself and your capabilities.”
Hammer Strike sighed and gave a shrug in response. “In any case, I probably need to get going if I’m going to make it for the next train to Ponyville. It’s been a pleasure Celestia.”
“Happy Hearth’s Warming, Shawn. And good fortune.”
The stallion offered a casual wave as he exited the chambers and looked to either side of the door. The two stallions were waiting, each fully decked in their barding to face whatever challenges the future might bring. In short, they were woefully underprepared.
“So, you’re both my new ‘personal guard’ then,” Hammer Strike spoke up.
“Apologies, m’lord, but we’ve been instructed to wait for Lord Shawn,” the one on the left said.
“But we can send a missive to see what’s keeping your escort from arriving if you wish,” the other offered.
Hammer Strike stared at the two of them for a few seconds. “Which two individuals walked into Celestia’s room? And in turn, would anyone else be in there?”
“Assuming someone were there and waiting, Sir,” the first brother said.
“But you’re not implying that, … are you, Sir?” the second asked.
“What am I wearing?” Hammer Strike asked flatly.
“A very stylish overcoat, Sir,” both said in unison.
“And dress shirt, vest, and cravat. Similar to when I walked in.”
“May I ask how you managed this, Sir?” the first guard asked.
“Celestia and Luna made a method for me to do so.” He shrugged. “First thing, though. If you’re going to work for me, I’d like to know your names.”
“Blast Shield, Sir,” the first one replied as he saluted the Earth Pony.
“Tower Shield, Sir,” the second said as he stood next to his fellow and also saluted.
Hammer Strike looked between the two for a moment. “Twins,” he remarked in thought. “I’ll ensure I keep your names right.”
“We won’t hold it against you if you don’t, Sir,” Blast said.
“Our own mother couldn’t keep us straight till after we got our cutie marks,” Tower added.
“You’ll find I take in minor details well enough.” Hammer Strike chuckled. “We’ll see how things go. For now, I need to get back to the station and prepare to depart to Ponyville once again.”
“Then we will escort you to the train,” Tower said.
Hammer Strike nodded and started onward.
“Out of curiosity, m’lord,” Blast Shield said, “is it true you demolished the training dummies the princesses provided in one blow?”
Hammer Strike raised a brow. “Rumors have spread this far?” He hummed in thought. “Though, I suppose some questions were asked when it happened. But yes, I managed to cleave a dummy with one strike, followed by launching the head of one … higher than anticipated.”
“The only Pony we know of with that kind of power is Princess Luna,” Tower Shield said. “Sure, the heads have been knocked off or severed before, but never launched to that degree.” He peered curiously at the stallion. “Out of curiosity, do you take your coffee with anything or black?”
“I … don’t usually drink coffee?” Hammer Strike looked to Tower for a moment. “I have a feeling there are a lot of myths surrounding my existence.”
“We already know that you’re not that Hammer Strike. But … there are certain rumors that have been going around since you were given the title and the house. It’s a legend, after all, and only a legend can fill those horseshoes. There are some who say you drink manticore venom to flavor your drinks.”
“I might as well cover this now,” Hammer Strike sighed. “Celestia and Luna believe I may be that Hammer Strike. Given time based magic and other forces at work, it isn’t impossible.”
“Do you believe it, Sir?” Blast Shield asked.
“Honestly, I don’t know what to believe. I typically wouldn’t, but I have already experienced some of ‘my’ history, having been in the fight for the Crystal Empire before it disappeared.”
“Did you see the grim Pony, then?” Tower asked. “Legend says that you’ve punched him in the face and lived to tell the tale.”
“I mean, I technically should have died three times by now, maybe four, so technically I suppose that could be a stretch of that.”
“Have you been contacted by any religious fanatics?” Blast asked seriously.
“...No? Should I be worried about that?”
“It’s said that Hammer Strike had a cult dedicated to his name and service. In their eyes, he was a god. Or very close to one. It could prove a potential security risk we’ll need to look out for, now that we’re aware of your, … shall we say status?” Blast continued.
“Joy….” Hammer Strike sighed.
“We’ll have some inquiries made after the celebrations. Nopony is mad enough to try to pull anything on Hearth’s Warming,” Tower assured.
“Ex Divinia etiam, I hope so.”
The journey to the station was uneventful. Ponies stared, but having a noble escorted by a couple of guards was not an uncommon occurrence in the city. The glances were more passing out of curiosity than the intense scrutiny that had been offered the human on his way in. The train puffed gently as the boiler warmed the water to produce the steam necessary for the great machine to move.
“We’ll be leaving you here once you get into your cart, Sir,” Blast said.
“It’s been an honor to escort you,” Tower continued. “And we look forward to our new posts with you in Ponyville.”
“It’s been a pleasure, and I’ll be happy to receive you both when the time comes,” Hammer Strike replied with a small smile.
The two guards saluted, and then Blast pulled open one of the car’s doors. “Safe travels, Sir.”
Hammer Strike nodded and strode into the car. He gave one last glance back at the twins as the door closed, then sighed and advanced down the aisle toward an open seat. He would have his pick of them this time around. After all, he was Lord Hammer Strike now. And nobles always received special treatment.
Or so he thought until his ears caught the creak of weight displacing followed by the appearance of an older stallion with a deeply reserved expression that was only slightly less intimidating than Hammer Strike’s. The stallion was garbed in formal servant’s attire, complete with cravat, gloves, waistcoat, and suitcoat. His mane was expertly coiffed, and the Pony’s whole coat, mane, and horn seemed to reflect a sheen as he looked at the noble and promptly bowed.
“Lord Hammer Strike, it is an honor to make your acquaintance.”
“The pleasure is mine…?” Hammer Strike said questioningly.
The stallion grinned. “Truly, Sir? Oh, you have absolutely no idea how delighted I am to hear that.”
“You’ll … have to forgive me for my confusion. I wasn’t anticipating meeting anyone else.”
“That is understandable. I’ve been instructed to present you with a letter from the princess once the train is underway. Myself and these few fellow servants of mine,” he said, motioning toward some of the other seats where nervous heads peeked around the edges, “are journeying to Ponyville to spend the holiday with family before taking up our new posts. If you would prefer to travel alone, we can move to a separate car, of course.”
“Oh, no, it’s fine. I don’t mind company.” Hammer Strike gave a faint wave of his hoof.
The Pony smiled. “I am glad to hear it. My name is Polished Brass. And as for you, well, you will require no introduction, but if you wish to be formal about it, I won’t stop you. It is the usual courtesy, after all.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, as well as all of you,” he directed towards the others. “Is the letter important?” He turned back towards Polished.
“To us? Most certainly. To you, that will remain to be seen once the train is underway. With your permission, milord, may I sit with you? I prefer to carry out my orders to the letter, and I was firmly instructed to ensure we were underway before I could allow you to see the note.”
“Fair enough.”
The stallion strode to an empty booth and sat in one of the seats, then motioned toward the other for the lord. “The princess informed me that I was to treat you as my superior, but not as I would other nobles. I must admit it is a fine line to walk for one who has been in service for as long as I have.” He chuckled. “I’ve almost forgotten how to stop being formal, truth be told.”
Outside, the muffled shouts of Ponies could be heard as the train’s whistle went off and the conductor called for last boarders. The train would soon be underway. Meanwhile, Hammer Strike assumed the seat opposite and allowed himself another glance toward the other booths. The moment his eyes caught one of the other Ponies, they darted behind their seats like a soldier in a foxhole.
Finally, the train’s whistle sounded again, and with a great mechanical lurch, the engine started away from the platform. Polished Brass watched in silence until the platform was nearly out of sight. Then he nodded and finally produced a small rolled scroll sealed with wax and a familiar seal. “Your letter, Master Strike.”
Hammer Strike raised a brow before accepting the scroll. “Thank you.” Then he broke the seal and unrolled the letter.
Dear Lord Hammer Strike (Or in case you are in your other form, Shawn),
It is common knowledge that any former servants to House Strike are long since deceased. However, it is a necessary, albeit somewhat inconvenient truth that a noble house cannot function properly without servants to help run it while the lord is away.
My sister and I just happened to discover these very capable servants as they were preparing to leave the employment of a noble who was … less than deserving of their talents through his actions. We were taught a very long time ago not to allow good talent to go to waste. As such, we decided to kill two birds with one stone by placing these and various other staff under you to aid you as you see fit within their purview.
Polished Brass is a very capable seneschal, and he genuinely cares for and watches over those who are under his command. You will find him ready and able to serve in many capacities, and he is exceptionally skilled in delegation. Due to the holiday season, I’m afraid I can only offer a skeleton staff, but you’ll find the remainder coming in due course after they finish spending time with their families and gathering up their personal belongings.
We are confident that you will use this gift well.
Happy Hearth’s warming!
H.R.H. Princess Celestia of Equestria
Hammer Strike sighed. “Okay, fair enough.”
“I assure you we won’t be a burden to you. In fact, our previous employer led to some … rather significant increases in our survival skills, among other things,” Polished Brass assured. “They say a former servant to the Bluebloods is worth twice their weight in gold.”
“Please, don’t misunderstand. I have no doubts about your skill. I’m just … typically not one to have, well, servants and staff of this nature,” Hammer Strike noted.
“I was under the assumption that before you assumed this mantle, you were a noble where you came from as well. Did you not have a staff of your own then?”
Hammer Strike raised a brow. “You’ve been cleared on more information than I expected. To respond to the question, I technically have for different reasons.”
Polished brass cocked his head in confusion. “What other reasons could there be for a staff of servants than to serve?”
“I meant more towards the staff side of things, but…” Hammer Strike frowned in thought. “I’ll leave it at that.”
“Your family ran an entire estate of governance by themselves and maintained their estates.” Polished Brass shook his head in astonishment. “Incredible.”
“In any case, welcome aboard.” Hammer Strike gave a small smile.
The morning was still, calm and beautiful. A scudding cloud of gray blanketed the sky to mute the harsh light of the sun, allowing Pony, Changeling, and human alike to sleep deeply in their beds as they wallowed in the warmth that held them peacefully moored in that comforting blackness. Some dreamt. Others luxuriated. And others still rose squealing in delight as they raced through their homes. These were namely foals.
Taze was not a foal.
He also was not going to be allowed to sleep as a white fluffy projectile slammed into his face with the force of a dodge ball at close range. Fortunately, this was no dodgeball. Unfortunately, it still did the trick to force Taze into wakefulness.
“Hell, what was that about?” Taze groaned.
Shawn shrugged as Taze tore the pillow off his face. “I wasn’t about to get punched again.”
Taze looked at him for a few minutes as the adrenaline worked to unclog the gutters of his mind and fire off the synapses. “I … suppose that's fair,” he finally groaned.
“I thought so myself,” Shawn agreed.
“It’s going to be a very long day, isn’t it?” he groaned.
“Depends on your perspective. It is Hearth’s Warming Eve, after all.”
“Maybe.” Taze shrugged. “Just seems like it’s going to be a late night.”
“It’s probably going to be a long couple of days.” Shawn gave a faint grin and a shrug.
“Fair. Guess we should greet the day,” Taze said as he rose and started to stretch.
“Take your time. They know you’re not one for mornings, and we’ve got a little time to spare,” Shawn replied, chuckling.
“Yeah, but the sooner we get started, the sooner I get coffee,” Taze returned with a chuckle of his own.
“You and your bean juice.”
“Best part of waking up.” Taze chuckled and headed for the door.
The commons had become completely decked to the nines quite literally overnight. Garlands and wreaths decked the walls while streamers and other holiday decorations hung from the ceiling. Centerpieces had been laid on each of the tables with small metal oil lamps shaped like hearts that blazed with flame to symbolize the fires of friendship. A cheerful Ruby Pinch grinned at the friends as they descended the stairs. “Good morning!” she greeted.
“Bout time you all got down here,” Berry Punch grumbled. “Now I can finally get my kitchen back.”
Shawn raised a questioning brow. “Get it back?”
“Someone wanted to make you boys a surprise. Didn’t realize you’d sleep in as long as you did. I thought you were supposed to be some sort of night owl or something,” she said as she looked reproachfully at Shawn.
Shawn shrugged. “I had other things on my mind.”
“What’s this about reclaiming a kitchen?” Pensword asked as he glided down the stairs to join his friends. Two more Ponies followed behind, one more cautiously than the other as they descended the stairs.
“Ask the mare yourself,” Berry said as she groused her way to the kitchen’s door and shouted. “Hey, you, get out here!”
The lingering scent of oven-baked fruit and holiday spice wafted from the kitchen door and drifted cartoon-like toward the friends’ noses in a white vapor.
“That smells incredible,” Taze commented.
The doors opened, and Moonshade stepped out bearing a large tray on her back. A plump shape was pinned to the wooden board as she strode toward an open table and laid the tray down with a flourish.
“What's that?” Taze asked.
“Vampire fruit bat,” Moonsahde said proudly as she checked it over one last time.
Pensword gaped at the dish. “I thought you said they were a delicacy. Doesn’t that make them hard to find?”
“Fortunately, there are a few colonies within the forest. I was able to catch a few on the outskirts of town.”
“Why do you have meat here?” the taller of the two Ponies asked. Her voice had deepend slightly, but Me-Me was certainly still there, and surprisingly enough, curious.
Moonshade shrugged. “Thestrals eat meat.”
“Strange. I have heard of some Changeling hives doing so, but those feed primarily on wrath to sustain themselves. The spicier the relationship, the better. It leads to … I believe you call it blood thirst? Or is it blood lust?”
“Lust,” Pensword said. “Or maybe both.” He shrugged. “Well, we don’t want to be rude after all the time Moonshade put into making this for us.” He smiled and grabbed one of the plates Ruby Pinch was laying on the table. “You cooked the meal, Moonshade. It seems only fair that you should get the first serving.”
The Thestral nodded happily as she cut herself a piece of the meat and took a satisfied bite, then let out a pleasured groan.
“That good?” Pensword asked.
She nodded eagerly. “Try it and see.”
The group each were able to sample a slice, and eyes widened in surprise. The meat was moist and tender, and the kiss of wild berries and sugar seemed to permeate it, as if it had been marinated before it was cooked.
“This is … I have no words,” Pensword said as his eyes watered in admiration. Or perhaps it was merely the impulse of his Equestrian form. Regardless, his praise did not go unnoticed as he consumed the remainder of his portion.
“It is a curious dish,” Shawn agreed. “Very flavorful.”
“Delicious,” Taze said between bites.
“It is … not pancakes, but … good,” Mutatio agreed.
“It was made with love,” Me-Me noted through a large mouthful.
Moonshade froze up for a brief moment. “Uh, yes, you know what they say. Love what you do?”
Shawn raised a quizzical brow but said nothing more on the matter.
Pensword smiled. “We used to put love into our cooking all the time back home. It always seems to make a meal taste better.”
“Anyway,” Taze said, taking a hit of coffee, “what's the plan?”
“Based off what I wrote down, we’ll be headed out to a Hearth’s Warming play that we’ve been invited to, followed by some work at the fort,” Shawn explained as he pulled out a list.
“What type of work?” Pensword asked curiously.
“Minor stuff, mostly paperwork.”
“Any way we can help?” Pensword asked.
“Oh, there’s stuff for you both, too. After all, you’re helping train the units.”
“Great. Paperwork.” Taze rolled his eyes.
“We could always threaten to have one of the recruits do it as punishment if they don’t behave,” Pensword teased.
“If only,” Shawn sighed. “But, it’s mostly for our eyes.”
“Yeah, state secrets probably aren’t the best thing to let recruits learn about, I suppose.” Pensword returned the sigh with one of his own. “Maybe we should ask Twilight if she could design a filing system to help us out. That is her area of expertise, after all.”
“I feel like we may not be allowed to see our own paperwork for months if we did.” Taze chuckled.
“No paperwork for months. Do you think you could live with that, Shawn?” Pensword asked playfully.
Shawn’s lips curved in a wry smile. “Nice thought, but I think I’ll stick to doing it myself.”
The town was abuzz with excitement at the prospect of the next Hearth’s Warming play. This wasn’t the upscale production that Canterlot could put on every year, but with Rarity’s help and her unique flair for the dramatic in both fashion and life, the show would most certainly go on. And more importantly, it and the design for the stage and sets would look absolutely fabulous.
While the fashionista worked to levitate some of the banners, and Applejack tested the ropes to test the curtains, Twilight peered over the construction plan to coordinate with the rest of her friends. Rainbow Dash was busy arranging clouds with the weather team while Fluttershy coordinated with some of her animal friends to get realistic sets and rehearse roles to fill on stage. Pinkie Pie was busy jumping around excitedly and passing out holiday treats to keep Ponies warm while they watched or waited for the chance to get in for the play.
The air was cool and crisp as the friends arrived with Moonshade to look over the work that had been done so far. An older mare with a light tan coat and a wavy gray mane smiled in greeting as the party arrived.
“Isn’t it just wonderful? Rarity and her friends are doing such a good job, and all the foals at the school helped with painting the backdrops,” the mare gushed.
“Mayor Mare,” Shawn greeted, then looked over the stage and ran a hand over the boards. “Sturdy construction,” he noted.
“The Apples are good with woodwork. And as you can see, everypony is working to lend a hoof toward the festivities.”
“This should definitely help cheer up any troops we have who are homesick,” Pensword said with a smile as he looked over the chairs being set up by various townsfolk. “It reminds me of the pageants we used to have at home when I was little.”
“It’s definitely a start,” Taze agreed.
“So, who’s going to be playing the roles this year?” Shawn asked.
“The foals from the school. Young Sweetie Belle is playing the role of Princess Platinum. And Dinkie is playing Clover the Clever. Miss Twist is going to play Chancellor Puddinghead with young Pip as Smart Cookie. And we have young Rumble and Featherweight to play Commander Hurricane and Private Pansy. And naturally, the rest of the school will be playing background characters while the adults help to manage the scenery and effects.”
A sudden chill wind gusted through the clearing, followed by a flurry of snowflakes that left an ever-shifting sheet swirling over the cobblestones.
“Sorry!” a gruff-looking Pegasus called from overhead. “One of the clouds got loose!”
“It’s fine, just keep doing what you're doing,” Taze called.
“You really do love cold weather, don’t you, Taze?” Pensword asked.
“I mean, if you can call this cold.” Taze shrugged. “This may be mildly not warm.”
“So, Mayor Mare, how long do we have until the production starts?” Pensword asked.
“We have about another hour before things begin. If you’d like, you can help with the final touches or wait for the show to start. We’ve already got your seats reserved up front as representatives of the crown.”
“I suppose, since we have time, I don’t mind offering some help.” Shawn shrugged.
“Point us where you need us,” Pensword agreed. “It’s always nice to be able to help with community events.”
“Particularly when those events include snowballs and mayhem?” Mayor Mare asked with a smile and a playfully raised brow.
“Oh, did you plan a snowball fight?” Taze smirked at her.
“Not tonight. Though I think you’ve inspired more than a few of the foals to be more creative when they do have their little mock battles.”
“Then shall we get to work?” Pensword asked.
Shawn had already stepped up onto the stage to review the work on the craftsmanship and to assist a thoroughly flustered Rarity by the time the question was asked. Pensword sighed. “And he’s gone.” He flapped his wings. “Well, I guess I’d better see how I can help the weather team.”
“Onwards and upwards, then,” Taze smirked.
The rest of the setup went smoothly and well. And not only did it allow for the touches to be built up properly and for a certain party pony to be reined in on her confetti, but it also granted the friends the chance to spend time with the six mares who had at least in part aided them on their adventures and vice versa. At last, with the glow of a job well done and the smiles of all the folk at Ponyville filing in with the troops from the temporary base, it was time for the production to begin. Spotlights shone as horns ignited, and the magic of the theater reached out to take hold with the starting oration from two young fillies, one wearing a tiara and the other a pearl necklace.
The air rang with the cheers and radiant applause of the town. Or rather, what passed for applause here, namely a lot of clopping hooves together or on the ground. Then came the familiar song as young and old, student and teacher, horse and donkey and mule, all came together in harmony to celebrate the spirit of unity and togetherness that, much like Christmas, seemed to flourish strongest once a year at this special season. Pensword grinned as he raised his voice high to join in the song. Taze was quieter than his friend, and less enthused. And Shawn was absolutely silent as he closed his eyes and listened to the music.
With the closing of the song and the casting of the flame that represented the spirit of harmony and friendship, the crowds at last began to disperse. Parents and guardians sought out their children, and techs and other workers were thanked by Mayor Mare for their hard work as the takedown began on the stage, set, and lighting.
“Well then,” Taze said. “Hey, Pinkie, I need to borrow the bakery. Have a few things I need to make for tomorrow.”
Pinkie gasped audibly. “Recipes from another world? I’m in!” she shrieked audibly, then grabbed the human by the arm and yanked him into a segway that had them rapidly speeding toward said bakery. To the rest of the world, it seemed as if the two had simply disappeared, leaving behind only the smell of cotton candy and fudge.
“Does she … always do that?” Pensword asked.
“Leaning towards … probably,” Shawn shrugged.
“Pinkie Pie is what you might call … unpredictable,” Twilight said. “Except where her Pinkie Sense is concerned.” She winced. “You really don’t want to know what I went through to try to figure that out.”
“I’m sure it was, at the very least, quite the experience.”
“If you can call going through a literal meltdown an experience,” Rainbow Dash said with a grin. “She turned white and her whole mane and tail lit on fire. It was awesome!”
“Rainbow….” Twilight blushed.
“Well, at least you’re all right now, right?” Pensword offered consolingly.
Twilight sighed, then perked up suddenly. “That’s right! Speaking of writing, I need to run some errands to restock my supplies of quills, ink, and parchment at the library.”
Pensword shrugged. “I can go with her if you don’t want to, Spike. I have a relatively free evening tonight.”
“You mean it?” Spike asked.
“That’s assuming the number one assistant and his big sister are all right with it.”
“I … suppose I won’t mind. If it’s not inconvenient for you, Pensword,” Twilight added quickly.
“I wouldn’t have offered if it was.”
Twilight nodded. “All right, then. I suppose that will work.”
Spike beamed. “Yes!”
All the adults looked at the young dragon with quizzical glances.
Spike cleared his throat awkwardly and blushed. “Uh, I mean, I … guess I’ll head back toward the library now. Get ready for the big day tomorrow. Lots of presents to finish!” He waved hastily and ran as fast as his little legs would carry him.
“And I’ll see you back at the Punch Bowl, Shawn,” Pensword said.
Shawn simply gave a wave in response before going on his way.
The sun had long since set, and a beautiful silver crescent moon arose in its place to bathe the world in its unearthly splendor made all the more beautiful by the pristine white snow that refracted its rays to make the night bright. The ground and the window panes came alive with stars that mirrored the skies, and a deep stillness laid over the world like a warm blanket as the foals took to their beds and adults made their last preparations for the morning to come.
The common room was anything but dead, however, as the Ponies who had come to stay in the inn gathered to enjoy one another’s company in preparation for the big day with their families the following day. The new staff who had been assigned to serve Hammer Strike came from a variety of backgrounds ranging from all three of the main tribes. Cheerful logs burned a bright cherry red as Unicorns each cast a small flaming heart to add to the strength of the fire and hover over the logs. Pegasi took bits and pieces of cloud to fashion and shift as they willed in the telling of ancient tales from the long ago, a perfect accompaniment on a cold evening gathered around a warm fire. Earth Ponies provided their very best cuisine and dishes in a sort of potluck that was open to anypony that wished to partake. Then they caroused and gambled with one another to add their own raucous cheer, with Berry leading them on in a rare display of open mirth and joviality that could have been bolstered by a certain amount of drink.
…
Okay, it was a lot of drink.
In a snug little corner of the room, Pensword sat with Moonshade and a few of the other Thestrals who were off duty from the base to enjoy the evening. The group remained calm and reserved as they sat and watched the festivities unroll.
“So, I’m curious, if all the other tribes have these great stories, what about you?” Pensword asked of the group. “How do Thestrals tell their stories?”
“Well back when we lived in tribes, we had a single person in each who held the tales of the past,” Moonshade said. “They’d use them to give wisdom when they thought Thestrals needed it. But with us as spread out as we are these days, a lot of the old ways have been lost.”
“But haven’t you at least been able to keep the stories? I mean, they’re precious, aren’t they?” Pensword asked.
“Things went badly when princess Luna fell. We ended up losing touch with a lot of our old customs when we were spread out.
“So, that’s a no?”
“They are precious, but no, we weren’t able to keep much.”
Pensword sighed. “It’s sad, really. Something similar happened in the land Matthew hails from. It’s a pity that spirit of Hearth’s Warming can’t be applied all year round. It might have changed a few things if it did.”
The Thestrals shrugged. “It’s honestly more for Ponies.”
“... Aren’t you Ponies, too?”
“Ponies have never treated us as such, so we’ve never considered ourselves such.”
Pensword frowned, then sighed. “I guess some things are universal after all. I just wish this wasn’t one of them.” Then he shook his head. “Sorry, I’m bringing down the mood with these questions. How about we talk about some of the things you all like to do around this season instead?”
“Well, for the most part, we use this time to try and hunt rare game that may be harder to find.”
“Like vampire fruit bats?”
“Yes, as well as other things.”
“Mind if I ask what? I’ve heard about a few things from Moonshade, but I still don’t know a lot about the kinds of creatures that live in the wilds of Equestria.”
“Well, for starters, we have regular fruit bats to go with the vampire kind. There are also wild boar and deer, even an elk occasionally. More daring hunters may attempt to find a bear. For the most part, game is very mundane, but occasionally you may find some specialties. Manticore is especially prized if you can take one down.”
“If the way you cook it is anything like what you do with vampire fruit bat, it must be delicious.”
“I appreciate the confidence, but it takes a bit more than that. We have special treatments to get the poison out, you see…” And so Moonshade began to explain the complicated process of purifying manticore meat.
Taze sat in the corner and smiled as he watched the festivities and listened to the stories, content to allow the limelight of the storyteller fall on some others for a change. The skill with which the Pegasi managed to work over the cloud intrigued him, and he couldn’t help but ponder if Gryphons might not be able to replicate the skill. One never knew when such a thing might come in handy. Finally, his thirst got the better of him, and he ventured over to the bar.
“How goes your night, Berry?” Taze asked as the mare slid a drinking a glass of heated raspberry juice his way.
Berry grinned at the human. Her whole body seemed to have taken on an almost liquid quality in its movements as the tension that normally weighed the mare down was washed away by the drinks she’d consumed. “Always love the holidays. Big money, big celebrations, and lots and lots of drinks.”
He laughed. “Any idea where Shawn got to?”
“You know him. He always likes to leave quietly.” She reached under the counter and produced a piece of parchment. “Left a little something for the two of you in case you asked where he went.”
Taze took the parchment and read it over.
I have some last minute projects that I’m working on. If you need me for anything important, I’m either at the forge or upstairs in the room.
“Well that's fitting,” Taze laughed, shaking his head. “Not one for a lot of words.”
“Less people talk, harder it is to complicate things. S’why Big Mac likes to keep it to yups and nopes.”
“That is a very good methodology.” Taze nodded. “Just wish he’d said why he wandered off.”
Berry shrugged. “Last minute probably means gifts for tomorrow.”
“Is Ruby excited?” Taze asked.
“She always is this time of year. She’s a good filly, works hard.” Tears began to well up in Berry’s eyes. “Makes her mamma proud.”
“You’re both hard workers.” Taze smirked. “I’m sure you make her proud too.”
“A mother tries.”
“And look at what you did. You built a successful establishment, and you keep it going. Don’t downplay that!”
Berry gave a watery smile and nodded. “You’re one of the good ones. If you were a stallion, I’d probably kiss you right now.”
“Well, the sentiment’s appreciated.” Taze chuckled. “Anyway, I should show this to Pensword.” He turned to leave. “You have a good evening, Berry.”
As Taze came over to where the Thestrals sat, an active discussion on the best methods to bait for bigger game and trap them was brewing into a spirited debate..
“I’m telling you, catnip will bring a chimera running faster than you can blink. They get one whiff and the other heads are doing everything they can to try to stop it,” one Thestral noted.
“Uh Pensword, message from Shawn,” Taze said, handing the note over.
The Pegasus flickered over the note, then sighed. “He really does like to work, doesn’t he?”
“Keeps the mind busy.” Taze shrugged.
“I suppose so. And it is for a good cause. I mean, without us being able to go home, I suppose we’re the closest thing to family we’ll have for the holiday.”
“That's true.” Taze nodded. “We are all we’ve got right now.”
“Well, almost,” Pensword said as he looked meaningfully around the table. “They may not be brothers and sisters, but I think it’s safe enough to say we have comrades here, if not friends.”
“Yeah, but I feel you know what I meant.”
“The spirit, if not the letter.” Pensword smiled. “Care to join us?”
“What's the current conversation?” Taze asked.
“We were discussing various hunting techniques and how best to use the kill after. Food, clothing, weapons, that sort of thing.”
“Ah,” Taze said. “Nah, I think I'll leave that to you guys.” He smirked. “Maybe I’ll get some reading done.”
“Found something new to catch your interest?”
“A few things. Never hurts to cast a wide net.”
“Especially when considering plans for what’s to come ahead at the castle?”
“Yes, though I'm also trying to learn more about Equis for the sake of having the facts sorted out.”
“Twilight can probably get you some books on loan from the Royal Archives if you need something more detailed,” Pensword pointed out.
“I’m sure I'll be fine.” He smirked. “Have fun.”
“Oh, I’m sure we will. See you later, Taze.”
Pensword took a deep breath as he stood outside the last door in the hall. Mutatio had alerted him of Shawn’s return. And however brief it may be, now was the time if he wanted to execute his plan. His wings each cradled a saddlebag protectively.
“If you’re nervous, it’s best to get it over with quickly,” Moonshade pointed out. “A hunt requires patience, but these are your friends.”
Pensword chuckled to try to relieve some of the tension. “That doesn’t always make it easier.” Then he sighed and raised his hoof. “Still, it is good advice.”
“I wouldn’t be where I am in the Guard if I didn’t have the wisdom to go with the training.”
“And the modesty,” Pensword added with a faint smile. The knock wasn’t exactly a full one, but it wasn’t the quiet whimper one might expect from someone struggling with nerves either.
“You’re clear,” Shawn called out from within.
The door creaked open, and Pensword entered with his heart hammering at his throat while Moonshade remained as cool, calm, and placid as a shadow in the night. In short, she lived up to her namesake.
“I’m glad I was able to catch the both of you before bed,” Pensword said as Moonshade closed the door behind them.
“Something up?” Taze asked.
“Well, not exactly in the sense that you might be thinking.” Pensword approached the duo, then sat on his haunches to gaze at his friends. Shawn sat at his desk looking over some papers with quill and ink at the ready. Taze sat on his bed looking at the smaller equine. “You know, I never noticed how big you two look from this perspective before.” He chuckled and shook his head. “I … wanted to share a family tradition with you if you don’t mind, something we used to do every year back home for the holiday.”
Shawn hummed questioningly.
“Each Christmas, we’d get together as a family and open a gift, one from each family member. And, well, since you’re my family here, I wanted to make something for us.” He blushed through his fur. “I had some help from the Apples, but the painting was me.” He reached into his saddlebags with his wings and pulled out two satin cords dangling from something cupped in the feathers. When he released his grip into the two humans’ hands, a pair of identical wooden shields were revealed, painted in alternating bands of metallic red, silvery white, and red again before reaching a blue center with a five-pointed white star. “These are for you.”
“Wow, that … thanks,” Taze said, surprised.
“Captain America’s shield,” Shawn commented as a grin formed. “Very well made and painted. Thank you.”
“Who is Captain America?” Moonshade asked.
“A fictional hero from our world. Based off the latest iteration, he was a young man, thin and weak, but with a pure and honest heart. He wasn’t fit to serve in the military, but tried his best anyway and was offered an alternate path. The offer in particular was for a serum that enhanced his body and mind, giving him the capability of serving his country like he wanted to. In the course of time, he became a symbol to the people, the symbol of patriotism.” Shawn continued to smile as he looked over the amulet.
“So something like the Power Ponies?”
“If you mean a group of heroes brought together through strange circumstances to team up and save the day? Then yes, very much like that,” Pensword said. He removed two more shields and gave the first to Moonshade, then placed the third around his own neck. “I made these as a sort of a promise. Maybe in part because I knew, at least on some level, about what happened at the castle. That … changes a person. And I don’t know what that might mean for me while I’m a Pony. This is supposed to be what I would have been if I were born here in Equestria. I’m hoping that means I can keep my personality without any side effects, but if transformation magic is anything like our myths say on Earth, some things might start to change, or at least try to. I wanted to give these as sort of a promise to you all that I won’t let go of who I am or stop being a friend. I don’t want to abandon that. So, I’m hoping that we can each be kind of like Captain America is for Bucky with each other. We never let go, and we make sure we all stay the same, even if the world tries to change us. And … though I’m hoping it doesn’t happen, … we all come to help each other if one of us gets in trouble. No man, or Pony, left behind.”
“Thank you.” Moonshade smiled. “I hope I too can embody what this person means to you.”
“Well, you’re already off to a great start with everything you’ve done for us,” Pensword pointed out.
“Getting us out of the palace, fighting with Taze and Matthew during the invasion, keeping us connected to Princess Luna, just to name a few,” Shawn said casually. He peered at his shield one more time, then placed it inside the drawer of his desk. “Not to cause offense, but I have some final preparations to make for tomorrow morning, and I don’t want to risk damaging something so important.” He looked at the Thestral. “Would you like to assist me, Moonshade?”
Moonshade nodded. “Please, lead the way.”
Shawn nodded and donned his coat. “Until tomorrow, gentlemen,” he said with a hint of a smile.
“Until tomorrow,” Pensword returned sincerely.
“Later,” Taze added.
As Shawn and Moonshade left, Pensword looked to his friend. “And what’re you going to do now, Taze?”
“Keep reading.” Taze shrugged. “You?”
“Not sure.” He yawned heavily. “Though I guess my body is telling me I should get to bed. I may be a Pegasus now, but I’ve been spending some pretty late nights with Moonshade lately. I guess even this body has its limits.”
“Sleep well, man.” Taze said.
Pensword chuckled. “See you in the morning, ‘Bucky,’” he said goodnaturedly, then took his leave.
Meanwhile, Shawn was leading Moonshade toward the forge. “Nobody else should be in tonight, so I won’t have to worry about interruptions.”
“So what's the plan exactly?” Moonshade asked.
“You’ll see once we’re inside,” Shawn replied as he opened the entrance for the two of them. Once closed behind him, he exhaled. “Thankfully, this place has a couple of spells cast on it to deal with the noise, so we can talk freely in here.” He gestured toward his work table and led her to it.
Once nearby, he reached underneath the desk and opened a secret compartment with a soft click, from which he removed a wrapped object followed by a rolled parchment. First, he unrolled the scroll, revealing the design to Moonshade, followed by revealing said wrapped object. “While I normally would trust my instincts, I’d like a second set of eyes and someone to help me ensure the balancing on it.”
She looked curiously over what he was unwrapping. “Oh my. That looks incredibly well done.”
“Trying my best to get as near perfect as possible.” Shawn smiled as he checked over his blueprint once more.
“Well, it looks like you succeeded. The shape is flawless.” She stopped. “Near perfect?”
“True perfection is impossible. You can’t please everyone, nor can you remove every flaw. For perfection to exist, everything would need to be the same. No difference, no change, no disturbances,” Shawn remarked with a shrug. “A bland lifestyle.”
“That's a very deep thought process.”
“It’s the way we think. Honestly, I searched up and read as much as I could in between work and my free time, mainly to satiate my own curiosity about things.” Shawn chuckled. “It’s why I tried to figure out as much as I could about this world when we arrived. I needed to know.”
“That's fair. I just didn’t expect the depth of the statement,” she noted as she examined the object. “So what's next?”
“I’ll need you to test balancing, see how it feels to you. Given my strength, I want to ensure it’s good enough for Pensword.”
“Oh, I can do that,” she said, reaching for it.
“Beyond that, I’d like your input on other things, and that’ll be all for now.” Shawn continued to look over his design. “Oh, and would you be able to stop by the tavern early in the morning, roughly around six thirty to seven or so? Unless you’ve already turned in for the night, in which case, don’t worry. I have a surprise that I think will be nice for everyone.”
She nodded. “I’ll make sure to be there.”
“Glad to hear.”
The morning was chill and cold, and the blankets warm. The depths of sleep and dream had wrapped the denizens of the room in its grasp and was not willing to relent easily. A great battle raged as familiar green turtles struck with staff, swords, nunchucks, and tsai to take on the hordes of mutants and horrors both mystical and scientific. Taze stood in the midst with them, wielding the archaic nodachi to strike.
Just as he was making an opening for the other turtles, a tentacle wrapped around his frame, squeezing his chest and slapping his face with a dank smelling wetness. A gasp of, “Go!” and a few other assurances mingled with expletives sent the turtles hurtling ahead, even as he wrestled with the monstrous appendage and the creature that lay at its source.
The pressure tightened as he hacked at the limb, and fluid sprayed in his face, leaving it sticky as the tendril continued to writhe and was soon joined by its fellows, tightening and brushing in rough strokes against his face, as if to take a page from Davy Jones’ kraken to remove it entirely.
Finally, when his chest began to burn, blackness closed in, causing the world to shrink and ultimately disappear in favor of a more familiar darkness, though the pressure on his chest remained, as did the rough and sticky treatment pulling and yanking at his cheeks.
“What's going on?” Taze growled as the world swam into place, his vision covered by a small white face and glowing blue tongue. “Sylvio?”
Sylvio barked playfully and wagged his wooden tail with a clattering chatter as it passed back and forth. His haunches stood up in the air as he brought his head low toward his paws, then licked Taze on his chin, leaving behind another sticky trail of sap.
The canine’s glowing eyes rolled as his tongue lolled and he panted.
Taze laughed as he grabbed the canine and the two roughhoused for a bit. Finally, Taze’s growling stomach ended the match, and a very sticky human rose to prepare for the day. Sylvio waited patiently while Taze washed the sap off and got changed into a new set of clothes. The tone had increased on his body with the continued exertions he’d made training his troops, cutting away more fat while providing greater definition in the biceps and calves.
At last, it was time to leave, and Taze made his way to the door, casually noting the distinct lack of Shawn’s presence. The man hadn’t flung a pillow. Instead, he let Taze sleep in and left Sylvio to finish the deed.
As the two left the room, a yawning Pensword greeted them. A book with the picture of a Pegasus and some weights on its cover lay on his back, and his wings were just coming to rest against his sides. His breath came a little too quickly as he offered a, “Good morning.”
“Good morning. Have you seen Shawn at all?”
Pensword shook his head. “Just woke up a little while ago. I’ve been, uh … practicing wing-ups,” he said bashfully.
“Weird. He usually wakes me up. Hope everything’s fine.”
“If it weren’t, we would have been hauled out of our beds by now to go looking for him,” Pensword pointed out. “I’m sure he’s around somewhere.”
The Pony’s stomach grumbled, and Taze’s soon followed suit.
“But maybe we can look after we get some breakfast?” Pensword asked.
“That seems like a smart plan.” Taze nodded.
The common room was still full of festive cheer and decked to the nines for the holidays. No rabble rousing had ruined the cheer of the season. Not a garland was out of place, not a table broken or otherwise shifted. The fire crackled merrily, and foals gathered around one of the tables to share their gifts one with another.
“About time you two woke up,” Berry said. Her face was drawn, and she winced slightly, but she still offered a smile for the foals’ benefits. “Happy Hearth’s Warming.”
“Happy Hearth's warming,” Taze returned. “How are you?”
“Dealing with the mother of all hangovers, but aside from that, I’m peachy.” Berry shook her head slowly. “I’ll get over it soon enough. Just need to work through it till it eases.”
“Drink lots of water,” Pensword advised. “It helps the most, even if it feels like the least.”
“An old drinking buddy of mine would think you’re suicidal if he heard you say that,” Berry said as a wry smile touched her face. “The stallion literally lives on booze.”
“Well, speaking of drinking, do you have any food left over from last night? We don’t want to make you cook this morning if you’re in that state,” Pensword said.
“I can make eggs if need be.” Taze shrugged.
“No need,” Shawn said as he stepped out from the kitchen bearing a silver tray covered in a massive cloche. “Gentlemen, ladies, I present to you Hearth’s Warming breakfast.” He lowered the tray and removed the cloche to reveal a spread of eggs, bacon, pancakes, waffles, and English muffins. “Pinkie!”
“Right behind you, Shawn!” Pinkie said cheerfully as she burst through the kitchen door balancing a stack of trays precariously on her back. She walked with unnatural grace and managed to place each tray on the table without breaking so much as a sweat, despite the laws of physics and reality working against her every movement. What had begun as a simple enough breakfast had been transformed into a veritable breakfast buffet. “Eat it while it’s hot, courtesy of Lord Shawn!”
Not needing to be told twice, Taze started to fill a plate. “Awesome!”
Pensword smiled. “Is there anything you can’t do, Shawn?” he asked as he began to dish his own plate.
Shawn chuckled. “A lot, but I’m always learning more.”
“You’ve just gotta make sure it’s fun, fun, fun!” Pinkie said cheerfully as she bounced around the room.
“Well, I suppose she’s not wrong,” Pensword noted. “I know I can certainly mention plenty of fun facts about The Titanic.”
“No!” Taze said outright.
All the heads in the room turned to stare at the source of the sudden outburst, their gazes questioning, but not quite at that point where they were willing to ask outright about it.
“He’ll go for days if you let him,” Taze said.
“I’m not sure they know what you’re talking about, Taze. It’s not like we were drawing attention until you shouted,” Pensword pointed out, then smirked. “But I think I get the point. “Should I make that a special Hearth’s Warming gift for you, then? A bonus?”
“Whatever helps make you happy.” Taze chuckled.
“So I can talk about The Titanic, then,” he bantered.
“Pretty sure that defies the rules of war.”
“How so?” Pensword asked before chomping into an English muffin.
“Torture.” Taze stuck his tongue out.
“Perhaps I should make interrogation my field of specialty then while we’re here.”
“Less talking, more eating,” Shawn said. “We have a big day ahead of us, and lots of gifts to give.”
“Oh? You have an itinerary?” Pensword asked.
Shawn gave a hint of a smile. “Something like that.”
“Well, I won't deny the more eating bit.” Taze laughed and dove in, followed soon after by the others.
“Did you feel that?” Taze asked.
“Feel what?” Pensword returned.
Sylvio cocked his head in confusion.
“Taze?” Shawn asked.
“Somebody is doing something very stupid,” Taze said, looking around.
“How would you even—?” Pensword began when he was suddenly interrupted by a loud cry of—
“Incoming!” The great shout heralded the arrival of very intimate and dangerous foals as Scootaloo soared with her scooter, out-of-control wagon, and passengers. The air was rent by the screams of fillies as one particularly loud shriek cried out.
“I told you this was a bad idea!”
The actions that followed were not so much a matter of the right thing to do as they were of instinct and reflex. As three fillies went airborne, rendered weightless by the height of their drop from above when compared to the descent of the wagon, each of the trio acted in haste. Pensword lunged upward to seize a small purple filly with golden eyes in mid-air. His wings beat quickly as the shiny wagon tumbled toward the cobblestones with the anticipation of a mighty crash.
The others didn’t seem to care, however, as Shawn raced along the walkway, following the downward arc of a small white Unicorn with a pink and purple mane. He grunted as she landed in his arms, but managed to right himself in time to adjust for the weight of the impact. Lastly, Taze seized Apple Bloom like a little football and hugged her to his chest before leaping through the air in a forward somersault and landing on two wobbly legs. A blur of rainbow finished off the rescue as Rainbow Dash swooped down for the save Scootaloo from colliding into a building alongside her scooter.
“Need a hand?” Rainbow Dash asked of her biggest fan, leaving the foal grinning and squealing silently in delight as the coolest mare in Ponyville, at least in her eyes.
Pensword let out a sigh of relief as he lowered Dinkie to the ground slowly. “Is everyone all right?” he asked.
Taze set Apple Bloom down, panting. “Do I even want to know what that was?”
Sylvio promptly came over and began licking the young foal with all the force he could muster, much to the foal’s dismay.
“Scootaloo wanted to show us what it was like to fly. And the others thought it would be fun to try to get a cutie mark by being daredevils.” Dinkie shuddered. “You saw what happened next.”
“Well, the ramp we made did work, Sweetie Belle pointed out as Shawn put her down gently.
Sylvio promptly turned from a thoroughly sticky Apple Bloom and began his assault on the Unicorn filly next.
“Why’s his slobber so sticky?” Sweetie Belle asked as she struggled with the cub’s tongue.
“Well, he is a timberwolf cub,” Pensword pointed out.
“So?”
Shawn couldn’t help but smile a little as he leaned down and whispered in her ear. “So what flows inside trees and sticks, Sweetie Belle?”
Sweetie’s eyes widened in horror. “Oh, no. Oh, no no no no no. Tree sap?” she wailed.
“Got it in one,” Shawn replied.
Dinkie shook her head. “The statistical anomaly those three constitute is positively staggering,” she said. “Somehow, some way, they always manage to get sap involved.”
“So, what brings the four of you by? Aside from your daredevilry, I mean,” Pensword added.
“We wanted to get ahead of the presents.”
“What presents?”
Dinkie pointed mutely toward the end of town square, where a familiar red Pony hauled a large cart effortlessly as he plodded along, his yellow mane hanging like straw. Applejack walked beside him, and the steam of fresh Apple pastries wafted in the air.
“Well well,” Shawn said as the cart trundled closer. “What brings you all up this way?”
“Happy Hearth’s Warming, everypony,” Applejack greeted. “Got a few goodies for y’all, and a few gifts from our family to yours.”
“Eeeeeyup,” Big Mac agreed.
“Same to you two,” Taze said. “Everybody doing well?”
“That depends,” Applejack said as she looked pointedly at Apple Bloom and the sticky sap that had thoroughly coated her. She looked plainly at Taze. “Crusaders try some crazy shenanigans to get a cutie mark?”
“You need to ask?” he shrugged.
She shrugged. “It’s the ritual.”
“They wanted to be daredevils.”
“And they were awesome at it!” Rainbow Dash said as she swooped in. “You should’ve seen how high they jumped!”
Pensword frowned. “They could have been hurt if we weren’t here to catch them, Rainbow Dash.”
“You act as if that's a deterrent.” Taze facepalmed.
“Minor injury is one thing, Taze. A serious injury is quite another.” Pensword sighed and shook his head. “You three really need to put more thought into everyone’s safety before you go on these adventures of yours.”
“Calm down, Pensword,” Taze said.
“It’s not like we mean to get into trouble,” Apple Bloom said as she fixed the Pegasus with the devastation of a stare that was all the more devious because of how it came so naturally to her. Unlike Fluttershy’s stare, this one was designed to engender sympathy and stop the hearts of those who were unprepared with the sheer force of its cuteness.
Pensword had little choice but to avert his eyes.
“Anypony got a shower or bath we can use to clean up their fur? Faster we get that sap out, the better,” Applejack said smoothly.
Shawn shrugged. “Berry’s got a tub, I suppose. She probably won’t mind if we need to use it.”
“Though it might be a good idea to ask Sylvio to stop licking the foals before that,” Pensword pointed out.
“Hey, you kiss your mother with that mouth?” Taze asked as he rubbed the pup's head. “You don’t ask a dog to do that. He’s just showing affection.”
Applejack chuckled. “Just like Winona.”
The journey back to the Punch Bowl was filled with many stops along the way and well wishes by the Apples as baked goods were distributed with good will and cheer. Finally, they arrived at the Punch Bowl and a sighing Berry Punch.
“All right. You know where to go. Just don’t get sap on the furniture, okay?”
“Somepony might want to watch them, too, just to be on the safe side,” Pensword pointed out.
“Big Mac?” Applejack suggested.
“Eeeeeeyup,” Big Mac said with a nod as he guided the fillies toward the stairs with his unblinking gaze.
“So, it’s a holiday, we’re all off duty….” Rainbow Dash started with a grin. “How’s about we all hang out and have some fun?”
“I suppose we do have to wait for the foals to finish washing,” Pensword mused. “And I do have this board game Matthew left behind….” He grinned. “Anyone up for a game of strategy and conquest?”
“A board game? Really?” Rainbow Dash asked.
“Never downplay board games.” Taze smirked. “They are timeless.”
“And this one just might surprise you,” Pensword finished.
Time passed, and the game of strategy and chance raged as battles were fought and dice were flung with passion and gusto with that prayer that always flies on the wings of chance and luck to bring about the optimal future. Or at least to try to. The outcome was still in doubt when the door to the Punch Bowl opened to reveal two familiar purple figures, a Unicorn and a Dragon.
“Same to you!” Taze returned, not looking away from the board.
“Aw man, you started playing the game without us?” Spike frowned at the sight of the board and the sprawl of pieces and armies as the players plotted in their respective bids for world domination.
“We didn’t know you would be coming,” Pensword pointed out.
“What better way to spend a Hearth’s Warming than with your friends?” Twilight pointed out, then smiled. “Especially when they come bearing gifts?”
“Are you trying to butter us up to forge an alliance in the game?” Pensword asked playfully.
Twilight giggled. “Think of me as a neutral party bearing gifts of peace.”
“And comic books!” Spike added excitedly.
“Well, comics are definitely a great way to promote peace,” Taze laughed.
Twilight rolled her eyes indulgently and smiled as her horn levitated a number of wrapped gifts that were suspiciously book-shaped. “From me to you.”
The wrappings were torn open to reveal three leather-bound volumes, each dyed a unique color to suit their owners. Shawn’s was a deep blue with golden accents to match his coat. Taze’s was a rich forest-emerald with glossy brown brass accents. And lastly, Pensword’s was a vibrant marbled red with gold embossing.
“They’re specially designed to be bound to their owners. I cast the enchantments myself. All it takes is a drop of blood. After that, the books will only reveal their contents to you.”
“Wow, that's really useful. Thanks!” Taze said, looking it over. “Almost reminds me of something I came up with for a story.”
“Well, you did say magic in your world had some basis in theory for this one. It makes sense that some of the ideas you would come up with for a work of fiction might cross paths with something we can do here.”
“That has some terrifying possibilities.”
“Mind control magic wasn’t enough to point that out to you, Taze?” Pensword asked.
“You know perfectly well what I mean,” Taze said.
“Do I?”
“Lord of the rings, DnD, the Black Cauldron. We made a lot of terrifying things.”
“You could always ask a historian if you’re that worried. My guess is a lot of those kinds of magic were already taken care of or sealed away.”
“Some people would argue that would be sealing away knowledge.”
Twilight sighed. “Must you two argue like this? It’s Hearth’s Warming.”
“Who’s arguing?” Taze asked.
“Um, … aren’t you?” Spike asked.
“Oh, this?” Pensword chuckled. “No, we do this all the time. Back home, we call it debate.”
“And it is the height of polite society.” Taze smirked.
“That, and it’s a lot of fun. Almost as much as when I get to beat Taze in a roll.”
“Yeah, which never really happens,” Taze laughed.
“So you say.”
“Yes, I do.” Taze nodded.
“So, are you two going to debate, fight, or keep trying to conquer the kingdom?” Shawn asked. “People are waiting, after all.”
“Sure.” Taze shrugged.
With the ending of the final battle came the closer that many had longed for. And though the salt flowed freely for the decimation that had been wrought so ruthlessly, the general camaraderie of the gathering had not been broken by the new leader of Equestria. Taze was even nice enough not to belittle Princess Celestia, choosing to hold his tongue, rather than imply the victor might be a better ruler than she.
“So I guess now's the time, huh?” Taze asked as he looked around.
“Everyone does appear to be here,” Shawn confirmed.
“Do you think they’re ready?” Pensword asked with a smirk.
“Ready for what?” Apple Bloom asked as the other foals, Ponies, and Dragon looked curiously at the trio.
“I mean, everybody’s here that needs to be, right?” Taze said.
“Looks like it,” Pensword agreed. “For the most part, anyway. So, who wants to go first?”
“I guess I'll start, '' Taze said. He ran up the stairs and returned with a number of packages, which he laid on the floor for everyone to see. “Spike, you first.”
“Really?” Spike looked taken aback as he looked at a small wrapped box. The paper was cut gently with his claws to reveal simple wood. When the lid was lifted, the whole room seemed to fill with a dazzling radiance for a moment, followed by gasps of mingled fear and surprise. Spike jerked his arm away as he looked warily at a large silver pendant about twice the size of a bit that lay on a felt-lined cushion. The inscription on its surface read #1 Assistant.
“It … was a nice thought,” Twilight said consolingly as she looked at the medal. A glow passed over the box to close the lid gently. “Spike is just … wary about precious metals after an incident we had before you arrived in Equestria.”
“Dragons hoard gold and valuable objects.” Taze shook his head. “This is silver. I’ve never heard of a Dragon hoarding silver, and I defy you to name one here and now.”
“Well, that one red Dragon we encountered did seem to only have gold and precious gems,” Rarity admitted.
“You would remember that, wouldn’t you, Rarity?” Applejack deadpanned.
“There’s nothing wrong with admiring good taste. And that Dragon had excellent taste in jewelry,” Rarity sniffed.
Spike looked uncertainly at his friends, then back at Taze. Finally, the human knelt and laid his hands over the Dragon’s claws. The box came open slowly. There was no flash this time. The silver glinted, but not too brightly. The familiar words stood out, and a cloth band flowed, waiting to be wrapped around Spike’s neck. He blinked. Then he slowly brought the box closer. His eyes were still normal. No fire escaped his mouth. No spikes sharpened along his tail or spines. He took the pendant and placed it gingerly around his neck, then braced himself and breathed. One second. Two seconds. Five.
Finally, Spike’s expression shifted from surprise to awe to a goofy grin. “I think it worked. I … I don’t feel any different at all!”
“Glad to help.” Taze patted the Dragon’s head. Spike responded by giving him a big hug.
“Thank you,” he whispered.
Taze smiled gently, then looked at the CMC. “All right, let's see. You four next,” he said as he gestured to them.
“Um, … can we get our gifts at the same time, Mister Taze?” Apple Bloom asked. “It’s not that we’re complaining or greedy or anything. We just … wanted to do it all together, if that’s all right.”
“Well that's easy enough.” Taze smirked as he slid a rather large package in front of the four. “This is for all of you together.”
“What is it?” Sweetie Belle asked.
“Something really cool, I hope,” Scootaloo added.
“Well, based on the dimensions and the overall weight when Taze carried it to us—” Dinkie began.
“Less talking, more opening! Come on, girls!” Scootaloo cried.
The fillies moved as one, and the wrappings were torn asunder to reveal a large bronze shield. The face was embossed and painted with a familiar coat of arms. The fillies gasped with delight.
“Is that what I think it is?” Sweetie Belle asked of Taze.
“It is indeed.” He smirked.
The squees of delight were worth it, even as the crusaders pranced and danced around the shield proclaiming their newly gained prize to the world.
“But how did you make it?” Sweetie Belle asked. “I thought Lord Shawn was the one who did all the smithing.”
“I had some help.” Taze smirked.
“Who?”
“Just a smith who was willing to lend a hoof.”
“And what do you girls say?” Applejack prompted the fillies.
“Thank you, Mister Taze!” the four said together.
“You are going to help them put that thing up in their treehouse, right?” Applejack asked.
“Of course. It probably weighs as much as they do,” Taze said. “Ruby?”
“Yes?” The young foal looked up at the human.
“I have something special for you,” he said, pulling out a smaller package. “This is rather unique to my heritage.” The package opened to reveal what appeared to be a carefully crafted wooden figurine of princess Celestia.
“It’s beautiful,” Ruby gasped as she took in the intricate painting and the lifelike gaze of the Alicorn rendered so carefully on the wood.
“You see, in the culture my ancestors hail from, they have these dolls that represent the family,” he explained as he slowly lifted the top half of Celestia to reveal a similar, albeit smaller, figure of Luna within.
“They open up?” Ruby looked curiously at the figure of Luna.
“And each figure is someone smaller than the last.” He smirked, removing Luna's top half to reveal Princess Cadence.
Ruby gasped again as her eyes widened at the sight. “How far do they go?”
“This set only goes two more layers, but some could go as far as twenty.”
“That must be so tiny!” Ruby exclaimed as she pulled open the figure of Cadance to reveal a familiar purple Unicorn.
“Hey, that’s me!” Twilight said in surprise.
“Yes.” Taze nodded. “I thought it was fitting, as Cadance babysat you.”
Twilight blushed. “I suppose she was like a big sister to me back then. And … well, she really is my big sister now.”
A squeal of delight drew everyone’s attention to the final figure, a tiny little rendering of Spike. Ruby held it close and nuzzled it in her excitement. “He’s so cute!”
“That’s my Spikey-wikey for you,” Rarity said with a smile.
Spike blushed at the praise from the mare and tried not to let it show. So, naturally, it showed even more prominently. “Aww shucks.”
“Where did you get the references to make these, anyway, Taze?” Twilight asked. “Did Shawn carve them for you or did you go somewhere else for the help?”
“Shawn helped a bit. I also got some help from Big Mac. I had to hire someone to paint them, though.” He shrugged. “I hope you like them, Pinchy. They’re one of a kind.”
“It’s a wonderful gift. Thank you.” Ruby hugged the human, and Berry couldn’t help but smile at the sight.
“Shawn, how about you go next? My gift is a sort of one-for-all thing,” Pensword said.
Shawn nodded in return and sorted through some wrapped gifts and placed them before each of the children. “Tried to match everything just right.”
Apple Bloom received a customized tool kit that would fit her hooves and mouth so that she wouldn’t have so much difficulty making repairs and building projects. Scootaloo received a brand new scooter to replace the worn out model she’d been riding so hard all winter. Sweetie Belle received a microphone enchanted to amplify her voice so that she could sing to an audience. Dinky received a metal gyroscope with an hourglass in its center that would flip and shift according to how she adjusted the spindle over the device. And lastly, Berry Pinch received her own personal juicing press to squeeze fruits dry and produce her own refreshing beverages, of the non-alcoholic variety of course.
Smiles spread around as effusive thanks were given and hugs were administered. Lastly, Spike opened his box to reveal a radiant green emerald that left his eyes wide and his mouth drooling at the sight.
“Where did you get this?” the young Dragon asked in awe.
“From the Crystal Empire,” Shawn explained. “I wasn’t too sure on what would be best, so I chose an emerald. Quite a special one at that.” He chuckled.
“How so?” Spike asked as he licked the gem to test its flavor.
“Well, it’s from over a thousand years ago at least, for one.”
“Didn’t you say you carried it in your pocket? Doesn’t that mean it was locked up with you, too? Would it have even aged, then?” the Dragon wondered.
“If it was in my pocket, yes. After everything was settled, I went back to clear out some locations and gather other fragments for cleanup. Our base of operation was relatively untouched and had a small stockpile of materials.”
“And you decided to give this to me instead of put it in a sword or something?” Spike’s eyes widened. “And I thought that ruby heart was going to be tasty….”
Shawn simply smiled in response and sat himself back, allowing Pensword to present his gifts.
“I have a couple of gifts for our little foals here.” He smiled as he shifted two rectangular packages over. One was taller and thicker. The other was slimmer with raised edges that tapered downward. When the wrappings were removed, a stack of pages was revealed from the lower package while the upper one revealed a picture frame that enshrined what appeared to be the sketch of a watchtower. “The first one is a gift for you all to enjoy when Taze isn’t around to tell you his stories. They are tales that you can read to each other. All completely unheard of in Equestria, I assure you.” He smiled knowingly. “The second one is a gift that will be put into action when Winter Wrapup ends. Since you four were so helpful in offering ideas for construction and design for a watchtower to make use of in next year’s snowball fights, I only thought it fair to incorporate some of them into our own designs for watchtowers that we’ll eventually construct along the path to the Castle of the Sisters in the Everfree. And as everybody knows, a fort, or in this case a clubhouse, deserves to have something to protect it.”
The fillies’ eyes widened almost as fast as their mouths did as they grinned at one another in their excitement.
“You really mean it, Pensword?” Scootaloo asked.
“This one time, I shall make the solemn vow.” Pensword raised a hoof. “Cross my heart and hope to fly. Stick a cupcake in my eye.”
He was promptly mobbed by the squealing foals as each worked to hug some part of him to express their undying gratitude. Well, undying until it would die in … oh, about ten seconds or so, when they were instructed to let go and back off so Pensword could breathe again.
“I … suppose I must have done well with that one,” Pensword said as he regained his footing.
Each of the mares offered their gifts to the foals as well before the time came for the exchange between the friends. Rainbow Dash fainted as she was presented with authentic Wonderbolt artifacts in the form of an older military saddlebag, a Wonderbolt pendant that supposedly belonged to Fleetfoot, and finally a mystery envelope that she snatched while Shawn and the others tried to tease her about a possible overload. The warning proved right, however, after she saw the contents, squealed, shot to the ceiling, and promptly fainted.
“Land’s Sakes, Shawn, what’d you put in that thing?” Applejack asked.
“Just some tickets.” Shawn smirked. “Good spots, too.”
“Tickets to what?” Twilight asked. “I never saw Rainbow Dash get that excited before; not even for the Grand Galloping Gala.”
“Given her interests, I’m sure you can piece together which tickets would make her faint.” Shawn chuckled.
“Good grief.” Twilight sighed and shook her head.
“It’s a dream come true. I think we should let her enjoy it,” Pensword said with a smile.
“Not to be a downer, but some of us still have work to do today. Not saying you needed to get me anything, but if you did, mind if I go next? I’ve still got cleaning and paperwork to tend to before the big party tonight,” Berry Punch said.
“That’s fair.” Shawn nodded. “I’m all for it.” It began with Shawn as he withdrew a simple wrapped box and laid it on a table for her. It didn’t take long to open, and a fine bottle of wine was soon revealed, the words Ocean Sunset written in loving and elegant script.
Berry gaped at the bottle as she looked not only at the script but the year that had also been inscribed in a corner of the label. “Where in the name of Celestia’s blazing ball did you find a 920?”
“Took some searching, but I recently had a trip in Canterlot.”
She stared in awed silence at the human for a time. “I honestly don’t know what to say to this. This is one of the last batches ever produced by the maker before Sunny Champagne bought them out. Do rare things just … come to you?”
Shawn just gave a shrug in response.
“Then all I can say is thank you. This will be a real jewel in my collection.”
“Well now I feel silly. I thought this was going to be a lot more original.” Taze reached for a slender shape wrapped in a delicate holiday paper with a shiny red bow and handed it to Berry. The shell was swiftly removed to reveal a slender bottle of blue cut glass wrapped in a silver ribbon. A black label lay across it with a silver crescent moon and stars embossed on its front.
“Moonlight’s Kiss. Now there’s a good brew. You can always tell a good drink by its maker. And this one came after Princess Luna came back. Liquid joy, hope, and dreams, all in one bottle. You wouldn't know it, but the same rules for cooking go for brewing. Get the best ingredients, but make sure you got the right feelings, too. What you get always seems to fit whatever’s in your heart. And Thestrals had a lot to celebrate when they heard the news.” She smiled. “I’ll make sure to save this for a day when I really need a pickmeup. Thank you, Taze.”
“I suppose I win the prize for original gift this time.” Pensword smiled and approached bearing a small spherical container. Inside, a curious wooden top was revealed resting cushioned in felt. It had been painted a deep navy blue, and golden symbols had been painted on each of its four blocky faces. A stout stick sprouted from the top to allow the user to spin it.
“What is it?” Berry asked.
“In their world, it’s called a dreidel. It is used in games during a holiday that holds great significance for many in the humans’ world. Children are encouraged to play with them, but it is primarily used for gambling.”
Intrigue and mischief glinted in Berry’s eyes. “Gambling, you say?”
“I can teach you the rules later,” Pensword assured her.
“Right, right! I’m here, I’m here. Sorry I’m late, Dinkie! Got caught up at the betelgeuse constellation and swerved left when I should’ve ducked right, and then—” The Doctor stared at the humans, then at Pensword. “Oi, shouldn’t you lot have left by now?”
Shawn raised a brow questioningly at the remark.
“Final errands and the like. Or maybe I’m thinking of another Hearth’s Warming. I never know with you and your friends,” The Doctor said.
Shawn hummed in thought. “I suppose there are a few things I need to drop off.”
“Same.” Taze nodded, heading for the door.
“If you’re headed out as well, I’ve got something for you, Taze.” Shawn stood and grabbed a small sack from his side before signaling his friend to follow along.
Pensword shrugged. “I don’t think I have much in the way of errands to run for now.”
“Y’all better not take too long. We got a little celebration going on back on the farm, and you’re all invited to come. Granny’ll have a fit if you don’t at least show up to say hello,” Applejack said.
“We’ll make it,” Shawn called out with a chuckle.
“And in the meantime, maybe I can see about introducing some friends to you, Applejack. They need to learn how to trust others, and you’re one of the most trustworthy Ponies I know,” Pensword said.
Applejack shrugged. “I can sure try, if you think I can help.”
Pensword nodded. “Thanks.”
Taze gave the last gifts he had quickly, then turned to face Applejack. “AJ, there’s a new apple cart in the shed out back. I was going to do something clever, but I don't have time. I’ll see you all later,” he said, heading out.
“So,” Shawn started once the two were outside. “Here is your gift, from Celestia and Luna.” He finished, pulling out a small wrapped package. “Written instructions are with it.”
Taze raised a brow. “You really expect me to accept a gift from Sunbutt?”
“I did say Luna as well.”
Taze grit his teeth, took a deep breath, then finally sighed in defeat. “Fine. For Luna,” he conceded and opened up the package to reveal a golden bracelet with a large emerald set in its top. Delicate carving and shaping of the metal gave the appearance of feathers radiating out from the setting. Talons were engraved below his wrist, meeting together to symbolize the closing of the circle. Taze whistled. “Did she commission this?”
“Luna made it herself, and Celestia enchanted it,” Shawn replied. “Take a look over the note.”
Taze pulled out the letter and scanned the contents, then whistled again. “I guess it makes sense that she’d give us something practical. It’s not like ‘Lord Hammer Strike’ can go anywhere without his best warrior, after all.” He smirked. “Oh, I’m going to have some fun with this.”
“I’m sure you will,” Shawn chuckled. “In any case, we both have some last minute things to do, so let’s get to it.”
Taze nodded. “Meet back at the Punch Bowl or should we just see you at AJ’s place?”
“If it’s early enough, I’ll be back here. If not, I’ll see you there.” Shawn shrugged.
Taze nodded. “All right. Cool. See ya around, Shawn.”
Shawn simply gave a brief wave as he headed off his own way.
Taze examined the bracer Shawn had given him. It was a silver and gold thing that was admittedly a little ostentatious with the large green gem in the center.
Next, he looked around in the cool winter air to make sure he wasn’t being observed by any stragglers or anyone who might see him before he twisted the gem.
The feeling wasn’t nearly the same as it had been when Celestia cast the spell directly. The sprouting of fur and feathers, the shifting of bones and organs, the growing of unusual limbs; it wasn’t painful. Though it was weird. His clothing seemed to adjust to fit his new body as he found himself digging talons into the snow beneath them and re-familiarizing himself with the knife-like claws.
He heard a weird thrumming sound as he looked himself over, and it took several minutes for him to realize it was coming from him. He was purring. Giving his wings a stretch and a few beats to get the blood flowing, he leaped into the air and let himself catch the wind. The sky called to him like it had to many humans for thousands of years. He smirked at the thought of how they’d envy him right now as he soared through the air. Wilbur and Orville Wright had nothing on this. Howard Hughes never knew the true pleasure of flight powered by one's own body.
Once again, Grif, son of Graf, flew over the lands of Equestria, letting his wings play upon the wind as its song sang through his ears.
A few minutes later, he landed before a door to a familiar house and knocked.
The door creaked open, and a mare peered out in confusion at the imposing Gryphon standing before her. “May I help you?” she asked uncertainly.
“Hello, Mrs.Heart?” he asked. “Mother to one Button Mash?”
“Yes, but who is asking?”
“Grif Grafson? I’m a friend of Taze?”
“Oh, the one who was so nice to my son?” She smiled, and the door opened wider. “It seems he must have a talent for making friends. I take it you’re here at his request?”
“Yes. He asked me to make sure a gift was delivered,” Gif said.
“Then please, come in. I’m sure Button will be thrilled to hear the news.” The mare backed into the house and gestured with a hoof for the Gryphon to enter.
Grif bowed his head and moved inside carefully as he retrieved the package from his pack. The living room was small but cozy, with a small hearth that burned merrily and a few pieces of custom furniture carved and crafted in Ponyville. The occasional grunt or shout of valor would punctuate the air from up a set of stairs leading to the second floor of the house.
“My colt, the gamer.” She sighed and smiled as she shook her head. “At least he has some good friends to balance it. And I can’t really blame him for following his cutie mark..”
Grif nodded. “So I hear. He has a special relationship with Rarity's little sister if I remember correctly.”
“They’re very good classmates. And from what I understand, good friends, too. The two of them used to play an old favorite of Button’s all the time when they were younger.”
Grif nodded. “How long before he’ll take a break?”
“Probably not until I call him for dinner. But you can go up to his room if you want. I’ll introduce you.”
Grif nodded. “It’d be much appreciated.”
The trip was simple enough, and they soon arrived before a red door. One loud knocking was soon followed by the familiar tone every mother takes when calling for their child’s attention through a closed door. “Button, sweetie, there’s someone here to see you. He says he’s a friend of that nice human you met back in Canterlot.”
The door creaked open slowly. “Taze?”
“Not quite,” the Gryphon said playfully. “He couldn’t quite make it.”
“So Taze wanted you to meet me, too? Are you working with him at the barracks?”
Grif nodded. “My name's Grif, and you’re Button Mash, right?”
The colt nodded. “That’s me.” He pulled his door open wider. “I guess if Taze wanted me to get to know you, I should let you in.” The familiar little gaming console built for Pony hooves lay on his bed, its screen still flickering as faint music emanated from it. Much like any young boy’s bedroom, the place looked like a wild beast had rampaged through it with toys and other gear and items scattered around it. A beanie cap sat atop a small dresser, waiting to be donned for another day’s outing. A scarf hung haphazardly on the headboard of his bed. Notes and schematics for layouts and maps were scattered in seemingly random piles over the rumpled sheets and the floor.
“Button Mash, what did I tell you about cleaning your room?” Mrs. Heart chided.
“I did, Mom. It just … kind of got that way again….”
The colt’s mother sighed. “What am I going to do with you?”
Grif chuckled “That does tend to happen with time.”
“Especially with young colts.” Then she smiled gently. “That doesn’t stop me from loving this one, though.”
“Mom!” Button whined as she ruffled his mane and nuzzled him.
“Hey, don’t be embarrassed. Your parents aren't around forever. Enjoy it while it lasts,” Grif said, chuckling more as he searched through his bag.
“You know, I do believe I like this new friend already,” Mrs. Heart returned with a playful smile.
“Not enough people appreciate it before it’s gone.” Grif shrugged. “Probably the best wisdom I can offer.” He pulled a package from his bag and offered it to Button.
“What’s this?” Button asked.
“Hearth's Warming gift from both of us.” Grif smirked.
“Can I get a hint?”
“Nope.” The Gryphon chuckled.
“Not even a little one?” Button wheedled.
“Not even a bit.”
Button pouted, but then pulled open the packaging to reveal a translucent package. The letters beneath assembled together to read Pipe Wrench 2. First the colt’s eyes widened. Then he gasped, and then he began to prance excitedly on his hooves before jumping around the room as he cheered and squealed in delight. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” And though he’d only known the Gryphon for a few minutes, he wrapped both forelegs around Grif’s neck as far as they could to express his gratitude.
Grif stiffened momentarily before returning the hug gingerly. “Enjoy it,” he said gently. “These times, too, only last so long.”
“Hey, Mister Grif, not to be rude, but … did anyone ever tell you you talk kind of funny sometimes?”
“Ah, do you mean my outrageous accent?” He wiggled his eyebrows, digging into the Phrench accent slightly more than usual.
“I mean, I guess, but I meant like, the way you talked there, too,” Button said. “I don’t really hear people talk like that much.”
“Have you ever read any history, Button?” Grif asked sadly as internally, Taze dug into the information in the book Star Swirl had given him.
Button shook his head. “We learn some of it in class, but I don’t know much about things outside of Equestria yet. Well, that and the Crystal Empire. The whole town heard about that after Twilight came back.”
“Well, back before the Crystal Empire vanished, Ponies and Gryphons talked very differently than we do now. We learned to think carefully and phrase things in a way that expresses what you mean.”
“Don’t we do that already, though?” Button Mash asked, cocking his head in confusion.
“Rainbow Dash?” Grif raised an eyebrow.
“We understand her just fine.” He shrugged. “I usually see more of Rarity than I do Rainbow Dash. Now she’s hard to understand. I mean, what does gauche even mean?”
“It’s hard to explain, but you’ll understand when you're older.” Grif chuckled. “Button, if I leave you with any wisdom, let it be this. Always ask yourself, ‘If this was the last thing I ever said to this person, would I be okay with that?’ You’ll find it the key to avoiding a lot of troubles.”
“Um, … okay. I don’t know if I get it all, but I guess I can try?” Then Button looked back into his game room. “Wanna try playing it with me?” he asked, motioning toward the game. “If you have time, I mean.”
Grif chuckled. “I can make time. Lead the way.”
Pensword trotted silently next to Moonshade as the two traveled the street. Foals laughed merrily as they flung snowballs at one another between neighbors and family members, pulling cousins and adults in to join the fray. The two friends had to dodge occasionally or fly over the melee, but they managed to evade the worst of the blows, with the exception of one valiant save on the part of Pensword that left him dripping with the detritus of a burst slush ball while Moonshade remained mostly untouched.
“And once again, I am grateful for my Pegasus nature,” Pensword said, even as he worked to shake off the worst of the moisture. “That could have been a lot worse if I were still my old self.”
“Useful to be insulated in the winter?” Moonshade chuckled.
“More than you can even begin to imagine.” Pensword sighed in relief. “I’d freeze at the smallest draft before all this happened. I’m still not exactly happy with the results for … you know, but I know it was beyond anyone’s control.”
She draped a wing over him gently. “You ok?”
“Yeah, I think so. It’s just … I guess I worry what will happen when it’s time to go back. It’s going to be an interesting conversation with my family about all of this. I mean, how am I supposed to lead off? Hi, I got turned into a Pony and may never be human again? My mom is going to freak out. And quite possibly will never let me out of her sight again.”
“Well, on to more pleasant subjects, I have something special for you. I feel like it will be something you’ll enjoy.”
“Oh? I thought you already gave us your Hearth’s Warming gift when you made us that fruit bat.”
“This is a bit more personal,” she said, removing a tome from her saddlebag and offering it to him. “This is a biography on my favorite commander from Equestrian history. He was a Pegasus Thestral hybrid and a commander of note.”
“I thought all commanders were Ponies of note,” Pensword said as he eyed the volume curiously. The leather was dyed a deep navy blue, and the binding and corners of the book had silverwork scrawled along it in beautiful patterns that spiraled toward the center where a familiar symbol stared up at him.
“This one may mean more to you than others.” She smirked. “Commander Pensword.”
“As in the Pensword I had to be back in the Crystal Empire?”
“The very same.” She nodded.
“Well, I guess it’s always good to be prepared if I ever get flung back in time again,” Pensword mused. “You said he was one of your favorite commanders. Any recommendations on where to start?”
“Why don’t we go back to the room and we can start it together?” she asked.
“Do you think we still have enough time to get some chapters in?” Pensword asked as an eager light flickered behind his eyes.
“I think we will.” She chuckled. “We should have plenty of time.”
“Then what are we waiting for?” Any reserve broke away in his eagerness as a radiant grin burst through the clouds of his previous forebodings. This was not a time to worry. This was a time to learn new history!
Moonshade shook her head with a smile as she followed after him. She liked his energy.
The Jewel house was a relatively small one, but that was fine by their standards. The point of any establishment or home is not meant to be on size or quantity, but rather on quality, and the Jewels liked it that way. Gem Setter smiled as he sat in his chair next to the fire and looked to the brother he had not seen since he left to find employment in Canterlot.
“So, Brassy, you still putting up with that grumpy lump of coal or did you finally up and leave?”
“You know better than anyone that pressure is a key ingredient in the finest stones, Gem,” Polished Brass pointed out. “And this is no different. I have been rewarded beyond measure for my service by none other than Princess Celestia herself.”
“No!” Gem Setter gasped.
“Oh, yes. You are speaking to the seneschal to Lord Hammer Strike, the newest lord of the Everfree and designated heir to the legendary house of the same name by royal proclamation.”
“Sweet Celestia.”
“Sweet Celestia, indeed,” Polished Brass agreed. “Particularly since she bought out the entire set.” He smirked. “I admit it was pleasant meeting Hammer Strike. And just a little fun surprising him with our presence.”
“You’re not going to make a habit of that, I hope.”
“Never. Master Strike is a true gentlepony, and I would never stoop so low as to deliberately do things to displease him unless he wishes it.”
“Not bad for a Pony from a backwater town.”
“Backwater is often where the best ores can be found.” He smiled. “And the best company.”
“Was that a compliment, brother?”
“Truth,” Polished Brass replied. “And maybe a little compliment, too. I missed home.”
“You may find yourself missing Canterlot by the time home is through with you. With Twilight and her friends here, Ponyville has been one adventure after another.”
Polished Brass chuckled. “So I gathered from your letters.” He rose to his hooves and sighed as he stretched. “That being said, I do have one more adventure to perform before the night is through. I need to go and get your Hearth’s Warming present.”
“It can wait.”
Polished Brass chuckled. “You know me, brother. Neat and tidy to a fault. I’ll be back in no time, and then we can see about preparing that feast for the two of us, hmm?”
“You sure you haven’t let those kitchen skills rust while running that fancy house?” Gem Setter teased.
“You’ll find out when I get back, won’t you?” Brass smirked as he donned his coat and opened the door. “Until then, brother mine. I’ll be back before you know it.”
The journey into the crisp air was refreshing after the lazy somnolent warmth of the hearth. The warmth of home still burned bright, and Polished Brass smiled as he trotted along the cobbled street toward his destination and the gift that awaited his beloved brother. Many businesses were closed for the holiday, their owners happily spending time with family and loved ones to mark the special occasion that symbolized the founding of their kingdom and their deliverance from the threat of the windigos. Children laughed as they played and made snow angels or snowponies. Battles were waged and fought with hard-packed powder as the weapon of choice. It was chaos, but it was a beautiful chaos. And through the middle of it, a familiar figure strode, his brown mane flowing naturally down his back into the blue coat that the fastidious seneschal knew only too well for its unique design and stitch.
“Master Strike, is that you?”
Hammer Strike turned towards the voice. “Ah, Polished Brass, surprising to run into you out and about. Enjoying the holiday?”
“It’s been a very pleasant change to see my brother again after all this time. And I trust your holiday has also been enjoyable?”
“So far, it has.” Hammer Strike nodded. “I assume you’re headed out for something?”
“Retrieving a gift for my brother. He handles the family business here crafting and selling fine jewelry for the locals.”
“Fair enough. Then I won’t hold you any longer. Have a pleasant afternoon.”
“Before we part ways, Master Strike, is there any way that I might be of service? I know you said to wait until after the holiday, but I can’t help but feel a certain obligation.”
Hammer Strike shook his head. “I’m all good. No worries. Please, enjoy the holiday to its fullest.”
“Very well, my lord. Then all I can do is offer you this farewell.” He smiled. “Happy Hearth’s Warming, Sir.”
“Happy Hearth’s Warming, Polished Brass.” Hammer Strike gave a grin, nodding as he departed.
“Say, Moonshade, have you been able to get enough sleep lately?” Pensword asked curiously as they gazed on the sparkling snow fields below their cloudy perch, his present lying open between them. “I mean, you said yourself that night time is usually your time to stay awake, but you’ve been pulling a lot of day shifts. Isn’t that unhealthy for you if you use that drink too much?”
“I’ve been getting what rest I can. I’ll probably need to sleep for a few days soon,” she admitted.
“Why do you push yourself so hard? We have enough trained recruits now to take some of that load off of you. And besides, it’s a holiday.” Pensword frowned. “Don’t make me have to order you to bed rest, young lady,” he said, half teasing and half serious.
She smirked. “Trust me, I’ll rest when everything is done for Hearth’s Warming.”
“I’ll hold you to that. And with this form, I’ll actually have the strength to back it up.”
She laughed and rolled her eyes. “Yeah? You and what army?”
“Well, according to this book, the Equestrian one?”
“That army was disbanded a few hundred years ago.” Moonshade shook her head.
“So what are we training here, then?” Pensword asked. “And for that matter, what about the rest of the guards?”
“What you’re training here will likely end up a hopefully more competent guard division,” she admitted. “But Equestria hasn’t had a standing army since shortly after Princess Luna's banishment.”
“Not to be insulting to Princess Luna, but shouldn’t that incident have encouraged a stronger military presence, rather than a weaker one?”
“Princess Celestia prefers diplomacy to war, and is willing to make some extreme concessions to avoid it. Without Princess Luna to champion a military, Celestia just began relying on her reputation as an Alicorn to act as a deterrent.”
“It looks like that deterrent has run out,” Pensword said bleakly.
“It would seem so. And Princess Luna will probably be working to get the army reformed, but it will take time.”
“And where does that leave us all in the meantime?”
“Working on making a branch of the guard more capable than the other members of the home guard.”
Pensword sighed. “I wish we could do more.”
“Unfortunately, the world operates as it operates.” Moonshade shrugged. “We take it a hoof at a time.”
“I guess there’s nobody, or should I say nopony, I’d prefer more to do it with than you, Taze, and Shawn.”
“I appreciate that.” She smirked.
“What’s that look for?” Pensword asked suspiciously.
“Nothing,” she said. “So what's on the docket?”
“Well, we did what I want to do. What would you like to do before the party tonight?”
“I’m not sure, to be honest,” she said. “It’s too early to be hunting, and Hearth’s Warming is not a day for sparring.”
“Is there nothing else you might like?”
“I’m honestly not sure.” She shrugged.
“Well, I guess until you figure out what you want, we do have a nice view,” he pointed out as he raised a wing. “I know this probably isn’t a factor, but the gentleman in me demands I ask. Are you feeling cold? Would you like a wing?”
“Well, I’ll take the offer gratefully.” She grinned as Pensword followed through. She wasn’t cold, but she wanted the chance to enjoy their time together all the same. And … having him nearby in this form was … nice.
The familiar clop of hooves over cobbled street finally gave way to the dull thud of a casual stroll along frozen earth as the friends passed beyond the town’s borders and into the well-traveled road. The skies above were tinged with beautiful golden light as the sun began its slow descent. Grif stretched his wings wide as they walked, enjoying the chill air rushing through his feathers. Hammer Strike remained calm and composed as he strode next to Pensword and Moonshade.
“Quite the day, huh?” Grif asked.
“And it still isn’t over,” Pensword pointed out. “It’s nice to see everyone having such a good time, though. And even better to be spending the holiday with friends.”
“Fair enough. I look forward to seeing how this party goes.”
“Just so we’re clear, we aren’t going to have to keep an eye on a certain group of fillies to avoid shenanigans involving tree sap and other sticky substances, are we?” Pensword asked.
“Hopefully not, but knowing them, there’s a chance,” Hammer Strike remarked with a hum.
“Eh, I think they can behave for one night,” Grif said.
“One can hope. Then again, aren’t they always trying to behave?” Pensword asked.
Hammer Strike hummed to himself. “You know, it’s hard to tell sometimes.”
“You know, one of the best strategies is to not make the worst thing a possibility,” Moonshade commented.
“Try to circumvent Murphy’s Law?” Pensword asked.
“That rarely works out well,” Hammer Strike noted.
“Not trying to circumvent it, just exploiting a loophole.” Moonshade chuckled.
“I suppose in the worst case scenario, we can take the hit for Hammer Strike,” Pensword said with a smile. “That Gryphon form should be able to take most sticky substances, right, Grif?”
“Oh, I’ll happily take a blow for my lord.” Grif gave a teasing smirk as he flapped his wings and bowed in the air before settling back to earth again.
“That joke got old a thousand years ago. When it’s just us, let’s just go with Hammer Strike.” He frowned and rubbed his chin. “Though now that I think about it, maybe I should make it an official order. Still not a big fan of the whole lord thing….”
Grif laughed as they kept moving.
“Well, at least we’ve gotten used to our fur and feathers,” Pensword pointed out as they crested a hill to look over the vast stretches of apple trees that comprised the Apple Family Orchard.
“And wings and other things?” Grif added.
“Mostly,” Pensword said a little more uncertainly. “I’m still … working out one or two kinks.”
“We’ll work it out together,” Moonshade commented as she rested a wing on his back.
“It sure helps having someone like you to teach me,” Pensword agreed with a smile.
The companions finally arrived at the barn, where warm lamplight flooded invitingly to spill over the hardened ground and invite all that saw its glow. Inside, fiddles played merrily with other country instruments to brighten the mood as Ponies socialized. A great table was set with all manner of famous Apple Family baked goods and meals for Ponies to go to whenever they felt the urge.
“Nice,” Grif said as he looked around.
“Looks like things are already in full swing,” Pensword said.
“Indeed,” Hammer Strike agreed as he gazed over the crowd. When nopony raised a fuss at their arrival, he smiled. “And this is why I enjoy Ponyville. Nobody cares about me being a noble.”
“Lord Hammer Strike, welcome!” Mayor Mare beamed a smile as she approached from the punch table, holding a cup of the Apple family’s famous cider.
“Almost nobody,” he corrected sullenly, then addressed the mayor. “Mayor Mare. As always, it’s a pleasure to see you. I assume you’re here at the Apples’ behest?”
“It’s a big gettogether,” she said as she nodded. “The Apples throw it every year, and the rest of the town tries to help by bringing a little something everypony’s made to contribute to the refreshments and decorations. Twilight really does know how to work wonders when she gets a plan together. First the Winter Wrapup, and now all of this. We’re so fortunate to have her here with us.”
“Indeed,” Hammer Strike agreed. “She does seem to have quite the passion for research and organization.”
“Obsession seems more accurate.” Grif smirked.
Hammer Strike shrugged. “I’m sure we can keep that in check if we need to.”
“Well then, shall we?” Grif asked, taking a step into the barn proper.
“You know Granny Smith’ll take her cane to us if we don’t,” Pensword pointed out. “She doesn’t care who you are when you’re under her roof.”
“Eeeeeeyup,” a deep voice said from behind them as Big Mac approached bearing a platter stacked high with steaming goodies to replenish what the table had lost.
Grif strode into the room with a casual salute to Mayor Mare as farewell, then took the barn in, as this was technically his first time inside. “Sturdy build. Reminds me a bit of some places back home.”
“Can’t really call it a barn if it ain’t gonna hold up against a storm,” Applejack said with a proud smile as she approached and looked over the eaves and support beams. “Built it all ourselves, too.”
“Granny says if I’m really good, I can help out with the next one we raise!” Apple Bloom added as she popped up behind her sister with a cheerful smile.
“Impressive,” Pensword said as he approached with Moonshade in tow. “You must be very good with woodwork, then.”
“Not good enough to get a cutie mark, though….” Apple Bloom sighed.
“None of that now. It’s Hearth’s Warming. You’ll get your mark when it’s the right time. Right now, you should focus on being yourself and spending time with your friends,” Applejack said encouragingly, even as she gave the foal a playful noogie.
“So is there a story behind that?” Grif asked, pointing to a place on one of the walls where a wooden hammer with a head shaped like an apple rested.
Applejack shrugged. “Old family heirloom. Granny knows the story, but she don’t talk about it much. Said an old friend of the family made it a long time ago, back when Ponyville was just starting, as a way to protect ourselves while we got the orchard planted and the like. Way Granny tells it, she almost got killed once when she found the zap apples that make our orchard so special till he saved her. He gave it to them after, to use when he wasn’t around.”
“Impressive work.” Grif nodded.
“What do you think, Hammer Strike?” Pensword called to the Earth Pony.
“It certainly looks durable,” Hammer Strike remarked as he looked at it. “Good choice of wood for it as well.”
“Does anypony use it still?” Pensword asked curiously.
“Nope,” Applejack said. “Ain’t been much of a need.”
“Well, at least if it is needed, you have it in good condition,” Grif said.
“I’d say I hope it won’t happen, but after what happened with Sombra….” Pensword sighed and shook his head. “Better to be prepared.”
Grif made his way to the food with a grin.
“So, uh … is there assigned seating for this gathering or is it just sort of a mulling around kind of event?” Pensword asked curiously.
“Not really.” Granny shook her head. “But if’n you youngins are lookin’ for a nice quiet place to yourselves, I recommend the loft. There’s more than lovebirds nestin’ up there, ya know.” She cackled as her eyes shone with the merriment of one who knows more than one is telling.
Moonshade blushed and gave a few splutters as she attempted to say something.
Pensword’s face turned almost as red as Big Mac’s fur before his wings shot out and he promptly covered his face with them.
“Come now, Granny Smith.” Hammer Strike gave a brief chuckle. “Keep that up, and they won’t even be able to look at each other.”
“They’d better get on with it sooner than later,” Granny said pointedly. “Some youngins’re too shy to try.” She shook her head. “It’s a crying shame, ’specially on Hearth’s Warming. If the spark’s there, ya see if it’ll catch. Plain n’simple.”
“E-excuse me,” Pensword said quickly and strode toward the front doors again to cool off the steam rising cartoonishly from his mane.
“Ma’am, I think you’re reading into something that's not there,” Moonshade attempted to deny.
“Won’t be if you don’t get at it,” Granny said pointedly. “Go on now. Don’t gotta rush, but you’d better do something. Otherwise, you’re just gonna wind up with regrets. Believe me, I know.”
Giving a confused look at Granny, Moonshade walked off after Pensword.
Grif gave Hammer Strike a knowing wink.
Hammer Strike gave a shrug and smirk in response.
“Grif! Hammer Strike! Hey! Welcome to the party!” Spike greeted as he trotted over while weaving through various Ponies’ legs. He already had an apple fritter in one hand and a plate stacked with other goodies cradled in his other arm.
“Hey, bud. How goes?” Grif asked the Dragon.
“Not bad.” He grinned. “Shining sent me a whole batch of new comic books to read! And I got a new set of quills and scrolls to take down notes for Twilight. Oh, and a scarf from Rarity.” He sighed dreamily at the name as he thought of the mare who had so thoroughly captured his heart.
“Sounds like the day’s been good for you then,” Hammer Strike chuckled.
“It always is. That’s what Hearth’s Warming is all about, after all. Come on! I’ll bring you to the others.” The young drake grabbed both friends by their hoof and talon respectively and pulled them along deeper into the barn until they found a table off to the side where Twilight and the other mares were sitting and enjoying each other’s company.
“Well look who it is,” Rainbow Dash said with a knowing grin.
“Ooh, ooh, ooh, Rainbow and I were right!” Pinkie Pie sang.
“Um, hello,” Fluttershy said with a gentle wave of her hoof.
“I see my little Spikey-Wikey didn’t have any trouble finding you two,” Rarity said with a smile. “But where are Pensword and Moonshade? Shouldn’t they be with you?”
“They’re probably flying by the moonlight.” Grif chuckled.
“Oh, how romantic,” Rarity sighed.
Hammer Strike raised a brow. “I believe it’s for the sake of getting some fresh air after Granny Smith said some things to them that neither was ready to hear,” he clarified.
“Not anything rude, I hope.”
Hammer Strike shook his head. “No, just blunt. That has a way of pushing people sometimes.” He shrugged. “So, I take it everyone is having a good time so far?”
“Definitely!” Twilight agreed. “This party really came together tonight.”
“Surprised you managed to take the break,” Grif teased.
“That was her gift to us,” Pinkie Pie said with a grin. “Besides, parties are my thing.”
“Oh, we’re well aware,” Grif chuckled
“Still, it’s nice to get together and just enjoy each other’s company instead of having to worry about the day to day grind,” Rarity said. “We don’t get to do girls’ nights nearly so often as we like.”
Hammer Strike nodded. “Fair enough.”
“I trust your Hearth’s Warming has been an enjoyable one thus far?” the fashionista asked.
“Though some things did require some last minute attention, it has been a good day so far,” Hammer Strike replied with a small grin.
“Would you care to join us after you finish settling in?”
“I’d be happy to.”
“Ooh, ooh, ooh! And Grif and I can have some fun, too!” Pinkie cheered. “I can’t wait to show you my cherrychangas!”
“Sounds … interesting,” Grif said.
Pinkie Pie just giggled in response and winked playfully toward nothing.
Pensword sighed as he snuck into a far corner to drink his punch, being careful to keep in the shadows to avoid the watchful eye of Granny Smith. What was her problem, anyway? Sure, Moonshade was nice, and helpful, and if he were born in Equestria, he might like her … maybe … right?
He shook his head violently. “Why am I even thinking about that…?” he breathed to himself. Once again, he could feel the heat flushing his cheeks as he thought of her smile, her discipline, her example, her kindness, that glossy blue fur, the moonlight filtering through the membrane of her wings as her eyes glowed in the night. The warmth of that cocoon over his back as they read together on the cloud….
“You okay there?” Grif asked his friend as he approached.
The burning and steam returned. “I honestly don’t know.” He groaned and shook his head as he ruffled his mane with his hooves.
“Talk to me then,” Grif said, patting his back.
“How am I supposed to talk about this, though? I mean, she just … and I just … Gah!” Steam blew out of his ears with a familiar whistle that everyone in the room seemed to ignore. Such happenings must have been fairly normal in such a magical place as Equestria, particularly in Ponyville.
“Take a deep inhale, count to ten in your head, exhale, then talk to me. We’re friends, right?”
What followed was more akin to hyperventilating than a proper breathing session. “I don’t even know what to say to all that, Taze. I mean, sure, I like hanging out with Moonshade. She’s kind and helpful, and she’s taught me so much about culture here in Equestria, especially with Thestral traditions, but now Granny’s saying we’re more out of the blue and … and I don’t know how I feel about that. Other than embarrassed, obviously.” He hung his head low and sputtered. “I mean, I know I’m a Pony now, but I was a human before all this. How would that kind of relationship even work? Could it? Would I want to?”
“I think maybe you're overthinking it a little,” Grif said. “Is she an animal to you?”
“If you mean like back home, then no, you know better than that.”
“Is she less than you?” Grif asked
“Taze, you know I don’t think of her like that.” Pensword grit his teeth as his frustration began to overtake the embarrassment.
“Then as your friend, I’m telling you to see where things go. Don’t run from your feelings.”
“But would that even be right? We were human before we became this. I’m grateful for the friends we’ve made. I really am. But … even if I am attracted, and I’m not saying I am, … would it be right as someone who comes from a completely separate species?”
“I mean, look at your own answers to earlier questions, at your own feelings. Thinking of her differently got you frustrated. That should say something.”
“The question is should I listen to what’s being said.” Pensword sighed. “This is giving me a headache.”
“Go with your gut,” Grif said.
“Taze, you do remember my gut is the last thing I usually listen to, right? I’m a planner, a tactician. Guts usually means bad ends for me.”
“Chance has a place in everything. Sometimes you need to take a leap of faith.”
“Faith might be what keeps me from leaping in the first place.” Pensword sighed again. “But I get what you’re trying to say at least. I just … wish Granny hadn’t said anything is all. Now it feels … awkward, I think I want to say?”
“Yeah, well, she probably thought it would do more good than harm.” Grif shrugged. “If you need to talk about it, I'm right here.”
“Honestly, what I could use right now is a good distraction until I can process all of this.”
“Well, there’s plenty of distraction here.”
A small cluster of foals approached hesitantly toward the pair. “Um, Mister Grif? Mister Pensword?” one of them asked.
“What's up?” Grif asked, turning to them.
“We were wondering … could you and Mister Pensword tell us some stories? A lot of foals want to ask, but … well….” They scuffed their hooves and looked toward the other parts of the barn, where many other foals were watching as covertly as possible. Which, of course, meant they were being completely conspicuous.
“Well now, a story is it?” Grif asked in a deep gravelly voice. “Well then, friends, you’d best find us the best seat by the fire.”
The foals squealed in delight as they scattered through the room in search of their fellows to spread the word.
Pensword smiled. “Just leave enough room for me to tell some, too. They did ask for the both of us, after all. And they probably have some questions about our time in the Crystal Empire, too.” He hummed to himself. “A thought occurs, my fine feathered friend. Did you want to make this a collaboration, perhaps?”
“Both are possible, my friend. It’s merely a matter of how many stories we can tell before the night ends.” Grif smirked. “A good story is a priceless thing. A few good stories is a treasure trove.”
“Let’s give them a horde, then, shall we?”
Grif smirked. “Let’s.”
Rarity looked casually over the gathering as she sat at her place and ate an apple turnover daintily, as a lady should. She allowed her gaze to rest on Hammer Strike briefly, then returned attentions to her plate to avoid the impression of staring. “It seems the storytelling is going well,” she noted as she pointed toward the flickering light emanating just beyond the barn’s doors. Much of the barn itself had settled down with the foals’ attention focused on the words drifting from the cool night air outside.
“That is one of the many things they’re good at,” Hammer Strike chuckled. “Grif especially.”
“And what about you?” the mare asked demurely.
“I’ve told some stories in the past, but it’s not something I do often.”
“I … hope you’ll forgive me if I sound rude with this question, but, … is it that you don’t like to talk so much? I notice you seem to prefer keeping things brief.”
Hammer Strike paused and thought to himself for a moment. “I’m sorry if I seem that way. I’m fine with talking, it’s just that … well, certain events in recent times have left me more in my own head than verbal. I don’t mean to give off that impression.”
“Then … is it more that you need the right somepony, or … that is, someone to talk to about it?”
“Perhaps. Though, you’re certainly making headway there at this rate.” He gave a soft smile.
Rarity returned the smile in kind. “One can only do one’s best. And I am the bearer of the Element of Generosity, after all. But in the spirit of fairness, it seems only right that you should be able to ask me some questions in turn.”
Hammer Strike hummed. “I could certainly use this as an opportunity to learn more about you.” He gave a small smile. “How about a reversal? Besides your talent as a seamstress, what else do you dabble with?”
“Well, self care is one of my other hobbies, I’ll admit. A good visit to the spa, a nice girl’s day out. But when it gets down to it, I suppose I dabble in what I can help with. If I can support someone, I do my best to. Provided it’s safe and responsible, of course,” she added quickly.
“Certainly a positive trait.” Hammer Strike nodded.
“Come to think of it, that’s one reason why I was rather vexed with you. You keep leaving all these bits without saying a single word. And I keep telling you you don’t have to. How do you get away so quickly and silently, anyway?”
“A trick I learned over many years in my younger days, to disappear.” He chuckled briefly.
“By magic or by stealth and grace?”
“The latter.”
“There is a certain charm about you,” she agreed as she peered over him. “You could definitely do well on the runway if you wanted to. You have that kind of presence.”
“I’d rather not.” His smile faltered. “I’ll stick to what I know and am good at.”
“Being humble and helping your friends?” Rarity asked. Then she smiled. “My kind of stallion.”
“Well now, getting ahead of yourself?” Hammer Strike chuckled.
“Getting a—?” And then she understood. Her eyes widened, and her cheeks flushed in embarrassment. “That’s not what I meant!” she said hastily. “I mean, … you are an attractive stallion, but I was speaking strictly from an assessment of your character!”
Hammer Strike couldn’t help but let out a faint laugh. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t help myself.”
“Do you always tease friends like this?”
“Sometimes.” He smiled.
“Now there’s a side of you I haven’t seen much since you came here.” Rarity smiled in turn. “You look better when you smile.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” His smile softened into a more relaxed state as the two continued to enjoy their time together.
The party continued in that fashion with friends old and new catching up and discussing the year, sharing the feelings of the season, and otherwise having a good time. Finally, Big Mac’s hoof stomped loudly on the floor, causing the wood to shudder, followed by a loud whistle from Applejack. All eyes turned to face the source of the commotion, where Granny Smith stood to peer at the gathering.
“Most of you folks know how this tradition goes here at Sweet Apple Acres. We treat the town like family, n’we like to invite you here to make sure you remember it. But this year, we’ve got some newcomers, so I’m gonna explain a few things before we have our holiday toast.” She fixed her gaze over the room, going from left to right before resuming. “You youngins in the guard are here to train and learn how to protect Equestria. Now I wasn’t there in Canterlot, but my Applejack was, n’she told me the details. Equestria hasn’t had to fight for a long time, n’now you’re learning to fight for us. Now, I ain’t no expert, but to me, the best reason to fight is to protect somethin’ precious. For me, that’s my family. For you, it’s your herd. And while you’re here in Ponyville, this herd is your family.
“Lots’ve folk here in Ponyville can’t travel easy to the big cities, so they come here instead to be with us. We may not be blood, but we’re just as much a family in this community as any other you find. We fight, we argue, we make up, and we love and look out for each other. That’s what family’s for. N’that’s what Heath’s Warming is all about. So, on behalf of the Apples at Sweet Apple Acres, I just want to say, welcome to this family, n’welcome to this community.
“Now that’s out of the way, it’s time to talk to everypony.” Granny smiled. “Now, as Matriarch at this here gathering, first thing I wanna say is thank you for coming and spending time with us. We know it’s hard to be with family if they’re far away. That’s why we have this get together every year. N’after those Flim Flam brothers tried to pull a fast one on us, you all helped clean up n’make our orchard whole again. That’s what family does, n’y’all showed that with flyin’ colors. This may not be a tradition in all parts of Equestria, but it is here.” She raised a glass full of cider. “We all offer a toast in honor of the season. It can be to friends, to family, to anything you like what feels deserves it. And since I’m the hostess here, I get to start.” She smiled. “To those who came before, our ancestors who found Harmony and the magic fire of friendship to push back the windigos. Now, we always try to follow their example, but it never hurts to think back n’remember them when times get rough n’we don’t always think straight. Let’s try to be more like’em in the new year to work for peace and a better future, like my family did here in Ponyville.”
“Hear hear!” came the hearty reply as Ponies and Gryphon drank.
What followed was an individual toast from each in accordance with the ritual, and the base reply dedicated to whatever the toast was for.
Rainbow Dash started it off. “To the wonderbolts.” She took a sip as the others shouted the toast in repeat.
Grif followed in somber recollection, as a warrior would. “To those that died for the Crystal Empire.” And as before, the gathering repeated his toast, each drinking in turn.
Twilight Sparkle stood up next. “To Princess Celestia, raiser of the Sun, and Princess Luna, raiser of the Moon.”
Rarity smiled as she stood up. “To Lord Shawn, who could not be here in person, but is present in thought and mind. May he be successful in his task.”
Apple Bloom stood next. “To my big Sister Applejack, the best big sister I could ever have.”
Applejack blushed from her place next to Granny as she raised her own glass in response. “To my entire family, who kept me true and straight when my own head got too big for the pasture.” This caused a few laughs, but the group shouted the blessing as well. With a unanimous, “To the Apples!”
Derpy Hooves was humble and composed as she rose to offer her toast. Some flinched back, possibly expecting an accident to befall the mare. Rather than harbor any resentment, Derpy offered a sad smile that turned brighter as she addressed the rest of the gathering. “To Equestria. May she forever shine as a beacon of hope and light.”
Pinkie was next. And in Pinkie fashion, she made sure to baffle and entertain her friends at the same time. “To the writers and editor.” There was a pregnant pause as the gathering awaited which specific periodical or book she was referring to. Pinkie just beamed, winked once, then broke character after clearing her throat. ““I mean … cupcakes?”
Twilight shook her head and chuckled. “Pinkie….” Her friends soon followed, and the town repeated the secondary toast, rather than question the first, as was the ritual with Pinkie Pie. After all, the holiday wouldn’t be complete without at least one of those Pinkie antics.
“To Ponyville.” Big Mac’s voice rolled low and deep through the air. The rest of his toast was nonverbal as he looked at Granny Smith and smiled. The old mare nodded her acknowledgement, even as she wiped a tear from her eye.
Fluttershy was extremely quiet in her toast, but she managed to work up enough courage to say her piece, since she was among friends. “To Equestria and all the life on Equis, may it remain as wonderful tomorrow as yesterday.”
“To Rainbow Dash!” Scootaloo raised her mug causing everypony to laugh as they humored her with a sip.
“To Rarity!” Sweetie Belle chimed in, following the trend Apple Bloom had set.
“To Mommy and Papa!” Dinky finished. Everyone raised their mug, Grif and Pensword grinned as they mouthed ‘To the Doctor’ and took their drink.
Next, The Doctor stood up and offered his toast in true loving fashion. “To Derpy one of the most fantastic mares in the world. And to Magic, a most wonderful way to live.” After taking his seat, he leaned over and whispered something to the mare, causing her to giggle and blush.
Spike rose next. “To Twilight, the best teacher and sister who helped raise me to be the best assistant dragon in Equestria.” He smiled with pride while Twilight blushed and her friends toasted her.
Moonshade was calm and reserved as she raised her glass. “To dreams. For without them, there would be no progress, nor will to see another day.”
“To our history,” Pensword began. “For with history, we have the rudder to guide us to a better future.”
Berry Punch rose next. “To the humans and ponies from Canterlot, who have made my life a whole lot more interesting, and who have singlehoofedly created the most talked about place in town.”
Berry Pinch followed her mother. “To the guests who made my momma happy and gave us so much. Thank you!”
Hammer Strike smiled as he stood for his turn. “To friendship,” he started, “something that has brought us all together, a force that has made us who we are and shaped our bonds with one another, bonds that have held us all together through the bad. So I say, to friendship. For without it, without you all, I surely would have gone mad long ago.” He finished with a strong smile that bordered on a grin before lifting his glass to swallow.
The toast finished with a resounding agreement with the calls ranging from, “Hear hear!” to a spirited, almost shouted repetition of the first refrain, “To friendship!”
When the rest of the toasts had finished, Granny called for attention again. “All right, all right, I’ve kept you waiting long enough. Let’s get this Hearth’s Warming meal started!”
As one body, the gathering erupted in cheers as dinner was served.
The party continued. And after much storytelling and revelry, the evening began to wind down. Foals yawned and fought valiantly against drooping eyes while parents looked meaningfully toward one another and the watches they carried. The country music and the carols had fallen silent, and a blanket of tranquility seemed to pulse with the flickering of the Hearth’s Warming flame burning above the barn.
With the writing all too clear on the wall, Granny Smith rose to address the gathering. She cleared her throat and raised a wooden mug high in her hoof. “All right, all right. Settle down, youngins. Well, any youngins with enough energy to still raise a fuss.” She smiled playfully at the adults. “Today’s been a good one, a time t’remember what came before us and what it means to us as a herd. Times like this, a speech is supposed to be made. And since I’m the head of the house here, that means I get to do it. Now I aint got no fancy words or special gifts, but that ain’t what Hearth’s Warming’s supposed to be about anyway. It’s about what we here in Ponyville try to be every day in our community, a place where everyone’s welcome, and anyone can work together for a greater good.
“Earth Ponies worked the land to settle it. Pegasi moved in to help with the weather, and Unicorns worked with the Earth Ponies to build up the town you all know and love today. It was hard and dangerous work, but we stuck together, and look where it’s gotten us now. Ponies like our town’s Golden Oak set the example for the rest of us. And it’s up to each of us to keep that torch lit every year, every month, every day. Now I see a new settlement waiting, a new adventure to be had, full of danger and excitement. We have a new generation of settlers training up for the long haul, and it’s been our privilege to host ’em. Now winter’s gonna be wrapping up before we know it, and those settlers’ll be moving into the Everfree to do what they promised. So I say let’s do what everypony did back at the first Hearth’s Warming, and what everypony did for Ponyville. Let’s support them so we can build something new together.” She raised the mug high. “So here’s my toast. A toast to harmony, to new friends, and to a new and exciting future together. Let’s make the most of it, everypony, and drink up!”
She hoisted her mug, then drank deeply as the gathering shared in her second and final toast of the holiday with the warm stock of cider she’d saved just for this occasion. Then Granny smiled.
“All right now, off with ya. I know when it’s time for youngins to be in bed, and I’d say it’s well past time for some of you. We’ll see y’all around town again soon. And don’t be strangers if you wanna stop by. We’re always glad of the company.”
As everyone began to disperse, Grif walked up to Granny and gave a short bow. “That was an amazing evening. Thank you.”
“Tweren’t hardly nothin’,” Granny said. “Just treatin’ folks like family. I would’ve treated you like heroes, but I think you got enough of that treatment back in Canterlot. Sides, small town folk get excited real easy sometimes.” She shrugged. “You still gonna help with the woodcutting?”
“You can count on me, Ma’am,” Grif said, not even flinching at the fact the mare had made the connection between his human and Equestrian form. After all, Applejack was her granddaughter. It only made sense she’d let the matriarch of their family know. “And thank you. It’s nice to have people treating us as people, you know?”
“Any time,” Granny assured. “Now y’all get home safe and sound, y’hear me?”
“Well, I suppose all good things must come to an end,” Rarity said with a sigh and a smile. “Thank you for the wonderful conversation, Hammer Strike. It’s been an absolutely delightful evening.”
“It has been,” Hammer Strike agreed. “Since I’m headed the same way as it is, there is something I do want to talk to you about.”
“Oh? Is … that an offer to walk me home?” the mare asked.
“Sure,” he chuckled. “Then, shall I walk you home?”
“Well, … if you really are going that way, then there’s not much I can do to stop you, is there?” Rarity asked as she allowed a hint of a smile to pull at her own lips.
Hammer Strike nodded before turning in the direction of Granny Smith. “It’s been a pleasure. Have a pleasant night.”
Granny nodded her assent. “Till next time, Hammer Strike, Rarity.”
Lastly, Pensword approached the mare. “Thank you for the night,” he said awkwardly. His cheeks were still flushed, but it seemed the worst of the shock had worked through his system by this time.
Granny nodded. “You’re welcome, sonny.” She paused a moment, puckered her lips, then finally spoke again. “A word of advice to a young stallion like you. There’s another reason I said you might want to move on your Thestral friend over there. Spring time’ll be here before you know it. And when it comes, mares are gonna start going into heat. Better to have somepony to keep you grounded and ward off the ones what can’t control themselves.”
Pensword gulped. “You mean…?”
Granny smiled. “Make of it what you will, Pensword. It’s your life to live, not mine. But a stallion your age should know how to take those kinds of things into account. Take it from me. Mares like it when the stallion makes the first move. Don’t gotta be flashy, just show ya care. If it’s gonna happen, it’ll grow on its own, same way you grow an apple tree, nice n’steady.”
“So what was that supposed to be tonight?”
Granny grinned. “Transplantation.”
Pensword sighed and smacked his forehead with a hoof. “I’ll … do my best to follow your advice.” As he strode toward the doors and spread his wings to take flight, Granny Smith nodded to herself.
“Now there’s a wise stallion.”
Rarity’s fur glowed in the frosty moonlight as a soft blush brought an appealing contrast to the bleaching effect of the moon. The two’s steps thumped gently and casually along the dirt road on their way to the town proper. “Thank you for agreeing to escort me. Especially with Sweetie Belle staying the night at the Apples’.”
“It was no problem.” Hammer Strike smiled. “It didn’t feel right to let you walk home alone.”
“That, and you did say there was something you wanted to talk with me about. Did you want to discuss it now or a little farther along?”
“Now should be fine. I actually wanted to commission something from you.”
“You do realize you don’t have to pay me. After everything you’ve done, you just need to ask,” the mare said gently.
“Not getting out of it that easily,” Hammer Strike chuckled.
“And if I were to say you overpaid me last time?” A hint of a smirk pulled playfully at the mare’s lips.
“We’ll say it was a tip for well-rendered service.” He smirked in response.
“And if I insist on making it a Hearth’s Warming gift?”
“Sorry, you already left that one waiting for me.”
“And a mare can’t give another?”
Hammer Strike couldn’t help but chuckle once again. “I suppose it’ll be a late gift, then, and I may have to return that kindness with one of my own.”
“I believe that’s what they call paying it forward?” Rarity asked.
“Paying. That, I can manage right away.”
Rarity pouted, then regained her composure. “I think we’ve gotten a tad off track. You said you wanted me to help make something? What’s the project?”
“Something simple for my other self,” Hammer Strike replied. “Some simple clothes to use, such as a plain jacket, shirt, and pants.”
“Plain? On you?”
“Indeed.” He nodded. “I didn’t always dress like this, and … at times, I find myself wanting something familiar to how things were. Before all of this.”
“I’d need some ideas of exactly what ‘before all of this’ would entail, of course. You remember you arrived here in noble garments, after all. I suppose I could take it as a challenge. Something that doesn’t make such a loud statement but still highlights your nobler traits,” she mused. “Though I’ll definitely need to have a long discussion with you about what your plain clothes entail compared to ours.”
“Nothing as complicated as you may be thinking. Plain to me is just the cloth itself, no intricate designs or symbols. Just a comfortable, simple design,” he replied after some thought. “Of course, we can talk more about it when the holidays are over.”
“With all the guards you have to train? Or will you have enough free time despite that?”
“Given my insomnia, I’ll have plenty of time to handle all of that,” Hammer Strike replied confidently.
“You know, we do have remedies for that,” Rarity pointed out. “Have you considered trying some of them?”
“They come with some downsides I can’t have affecting me, so I’ll just have to manage for the time being.”
Rarity raised a brow in a mixture of confusion and concern. “Downsides? Twilight tells me that the sleeping draughts most Ponies sell don’t have any side effects. Have you been taking them as a Pony or as … your other self?”
“The downside being that it will likely keep me asleep for too long, as Luna mentioned probably needing stronger doses for me. Also, Pony form, since it might not work with the other biology.”
“That’s very odd. Have you considered asking Twilight to help you with it? She’s very good at analysis. She might be able to isolate what’s causing your problems with the draughts.”
“For all we know, it’ll probably be something simple yet unfixable.” He shrugged.
“Well, if you need someone to talk to, my door is always open. We just have to be careful not to wake Sweetie Belle.”
“I appreciate the offer.” Hammer Strike gave a small smile.
“Any time, darling. It’s what I do, after all.”
It didn’t take much longer for them to arrive at the Carousel Boutique, where the mare paused at the door. “I can’t exactly promise a good night’s sleep, but … I do have some chamomile tea I can put on the stove if you’re interested?”
“Perhaps next time.” His smile softened. “I need to get back soon, as the others will likely be there soon enough. Have a good night, Rarity. It’s been a pleasure.”
Rarity smiled and waved in turn as Hammer Strike began the trek toward the Punch Bowl and his waiting friends. “Believe me, the pleasure was mine,” she murmured under her breath as a flush rose in her cheeks, and she finally turned and closed the door.
Grif shifted his wings, forcing himself further at higher speed. The night blurred around him as the chilled winter air ruffled fur and feathers alike. Flight seemed to come to him more and more easily. But with it came an addiction he couldn’t shake, a feeling of the world and a connection with the sky.
Sometimes, he swore he could hear whispers as he moved, the wind telling him to bank left or to dive or any number of actions. It was strange to him as he flew through the winter air that he never seemed to have trouble gaining altitude, despite a lack of thermals or other air currents. He shook his head then to clear it of such thoughts. The numerous ways in which flight defied science would drive him crazy otherwise.
He took a moment to hover above the town and take in the sight, the myriad of houses and roofs with smoke billowing from chimneys. Lights peppered the windows like stars as the sound of celebration and merriment went on. In the distance he could see Canterlot and even Cloudsdale likewise celebrating the night. Something about it all made him smile. It made it all feel worth protecting.
Terrible things awaited in their future. He could feel it. And he knew it would be hard and taxing. But this right here was at least something he could enjoy.
Pensword sighed as he sat on his perch atop a cloud he’d managed to snag in passing. It was a little ragged, since he had to bring a bunch of tinier wisps together, but it was holding, … mostly. Occasionally, he would have to pull back fragments of the substance using a wing to keep things together. He stared at the book Moonshade had given him and brushed its cover. Thinking about Moonshade was a mixed bag. He enjoyed learning about the military from her, how Equestria’s forces had changed over the years, the techniques they employed, the way she and her society had worked to integrate themselves into Equestria again after Luna’s return. He liked the sound of her voice and the patience she showed with him whenever he asked questions. In a lot of ways, she was the ideal companion for him.
“But do I really feel that way about you?” he asked softly as he flipped through the pages. Then he sighed. “Well, I look like you, Pensword. Let’s see if you have any advice that can help.” He cracked open the book and turned to the section on the commander’s wife, then began to read aloud.
“In older days, the Thestrals were treated as outcasts. Unlike their cousins the Unicorns, Pegasi, and Earth Ponies, this particular tribe thrived in the nighttime and worshiped the moon. Their culture has maintained a hierarchy of seven main tribes: Lion, Wolf, Manticore, Bear, Dragon, Fox, and Viper. Each of these tribes then descend into a number of family units or clans within the tribes. Those who are of the same main tribe are welcomed by fellow tribesponies, though they may not be bound together by direct kinship.
“Through oral tradition and records that scholars still are forbidden to see to this day, much of Thestral culture has been retained over the generations, though authorities from various Thestral tribes have admitted that it is still not the culture it once was when their society first formed. As a culture of nocturnal beings, their primary source of food came in the form of hunting and gathering. As such, they developed the capacity and necessity to consume meat in order to survive. The hunt is an integral part of Thestral culture, as is strength and cunning.
“It is these three traits which a traditional Thestral mare would search for in a potential mate, along with other attributes that they judged most important on a personal basis. When performing courtship, it is customary to perform a hunt and offer some of it to one’s intended. The more valuable the kill, the greater the regard for the one to receive the gift.
“While the exact details of the courtship of Pensword and his beloved Lunar Fang are unknown, it is known that on one occasion, Pensword had two robes fashioned from ursa fur, which he and his wife then wore at their wedding and to special occasions that followed.”
Pensword’s eyes widened at that. “How the heck would he have gotten fur from that?”
“By getting involved in an ursa hunt,” Moonshade commented as she flapped next to him.
Pensword’s cloud nearly burst apart when his knees jerked through it, but he managed to fold his wings around its edges to keep it from poofing into so much vapor. It looked almost like the stallion were wearing a tu-tu, even as he clamped the book with his teeth to keep it from falling.
She laughed loudly as she watched him, then finally explained when she regained her composure. “Ursa hunts are rare things that are told in tales. Items made from ursa fur and bone are usually passed down as heirlooms for generations.” She flew over and helped him repair the cloud bank, then pulled him up when the platform was stable before gently pulling the book out of his mouth and laying it on the cloud.
Pensword’s heart raced, both in surprise and something else he still couldn’t put a name to. And since this particular unknown made him uncomfortable, he decided to push past it by satisfying his curiosity instead. “So, it’s like an ultimate prize? Kind of like how a big diamond ring is supposed to be an ideal offering for a proposal back on Earth?”
“You could say so, yes.” She nodded.
Pensword rubbed his mane abashedly. “Then you must really care about us a lot to have gotten us that fruit bat to try. Thank you. And, um … about what happened tonight. I … I’m sorry. I just … I’ve never been through something like that before, and I … guess I sort of panicked?”
“It’s fine. No one likes being on the spot like that.”
“Guess I’m not quite living up to the name, huh?” He smiled sheepishly.
“I mean, there is still time. You could catch up.” She shrugged.
“Are you saying you want me to?” He sighed. “It’s so confusing when you don’t know whether you’re supposed to be that person or just share their namesake. And it certainly doesn’t help knowing that time travel is a factor.”
“Take it a step at a time. And it’s more what you want to be? I don’t want to mold you. We only do that with cadets, remember?”
Pensword couldn’t help but chuckle. “I guess we do. As for what I want to be, … I admit I always did want to be in the military before all this. But, … I suppose you’re right, too. If I want to be a warrior, I need to learn how to be it my way instead, don’t I?”
“That's the best way to do it, yes.” She nodded.
“You’ll still teach me how to hunt, though, won’t you?”
“Of course. I said I would.”
Pensword smiled. “Good.” Then he frowned. “Say, I know I’m kind of stuck like this. And I’m not saying I hate it, but … do you think it might be possible to make a few … tweaks to my form if I ask Princess Luna?”
“What did you have in mind?”
“I … would like to have the chance to eat what we hunt. And, well, … Pegasi can’t really do much of that. Do you think Luna might be able to make it so I can?”
“Likely, yes.” Moonshade nodded. “It’s within her abilities.”
“Then I suppose that’s something to look forward to, assuming she agrees. I guess, in the meantime, would you … like to watch the stars with me for a while?”
“I–uh,” she blushed a bit before giving a small sigh and a smile. “I would like that.”
The air was cold, chill, and dry. A fitting environment for the winter that had been so painstakingly crafted by the weather Ponies. The night was soft and cool, the blustery winds blunted by the fires of friendship that hovered over each Pony’s chimney to contribute to the power that kept the fearsome windigos at bay. The soft clopping of hooves carried through the stillness as Hammer Strike strode along the street toward the familiar sight of The Punch Bowl. Its fire was a color more akin to the wine Berry loved so much, and throbbed like the hangover that usually followed when one had too much of her brews to drink.
The door opened, and to the Pony’s surprise, a mound of gifts sat waiting on one of the dining tables as a warm fire crackled in the hearth to spread light and shadow dancing through the room and glinting off wrappings that seemed to sparkle with a magic all their own. Or … was that some sort of magical residue?
“I sense something has occurred,” Hammer Strike remarked.
The flutter and billowing flap of wings soon heralded the arrival of Pensword and Moonshade as the two flew together, then gradually circled down to settle by the table.
“Surprising, isn’t it?” Pensword asked as he added his own additions to the pile.
“Is Grif back yet?”
“Here,” Grif said, holding up a hand as he walked down the stairs with his other three limbs.
“So, did you get what you needed to, Grif?” Pensword asked.
“Yup. You?”
Pensword smiled. “I think so.”
“Then, shall we move these upstairs?” Hammer Strike questioned.
“You don’t want to open them down here?” Pensword asked.
“I feel like we’d be taking up a lot of space.”
“Probably for the best.” Grif nodded
Pensword sighed. “And after I already brought my gifts down.” Then he shrugged. “Ah, well. I guess it’s just more exercise.”
It took a few trips to get all the gifts up the stairs, but eventually the friends gathered in Shawn and Taze’s room to see what each of their friends and acquaintances had chosen to give for the holiday.
“So, who’d like to go first?” Hammer Strike asked aloud.
“I nominate Grif,” Pensword said.
“Sounds good to me.”
“I abstain?” Moonshade said, unsure.
Rolling his eyes, Grif pulled out a black case and handed it to Pensword. “This is from me and Storm Hammer.”
“Why do I get the feeling this is either going to be a weapon or armor of some kind?” Pensword asked as he flicked open the case’s latches, then opened the lid. What lay inside was a thing of beauty. The weapon was somewhat large for the average Pony. Four limbs crossed in an X over the front of the wood, and string tied to an anchor point on either side of the crossbow’s body that could be retracted mechanically to provide the necessary tension for distance and force. The inside had been hollowed out to form a long circular tube and crafted with great care while somehow still retaining most of its strength. The tube carried on slightly past where the square-shaped stock and the dual bow shafts ended. Two retractable legs were clipped at the end of the barrel that would allow him to stabilize the crossbow on a flat surface if needed. A removable stock had been carefully crafted from wood and leather, and reinforced with bits of steel to increase durability. A slot above the handle functioned as a holder for cleverly designed magazines that held the darts in place and helped to reduce the need to reload. A closer inspection of the magazines revealed black fletching from familiar feathers on the bolts. The trigger had been thoughtfully crafted large enough for a hoof to fit inside and thin enough for a wing to pull. A classic safety lock sat just behind the trigger to avoid setting it off after prepping the weapon for use. Lastly, he noticed what looked akin to a large spyglass designed to mount on top of the weapon using cleverly hidden clips to enhance his vision when shooting at a target.
“It’s … beautiful,” Pensword breathed. He toyed with it briefly, testing components, preparing to cock it, ensuring each functioned well, and that he could adapt to them. Moonshade drew the line at allowing one of the bolts from the magazine to drop into place, however.
“You’ll have time to play with it later. Let the others have their turn,” she chided gently.
Pensword blushed. “Sorry.”
“So what's next?” Grif asked.
“Since you asked, I suppose I can answer that,” Hammer Strike spoke up before reaching into his coat to remove a wrapped object. “Took a while to get it right, but, I think you’ll find it more to your liking now,” he finished, offering the item to Grif.
Grif took the item and unwrapped it carefully to reveal a modified flintlock pistol. He raised it carefully in his talons. The barrel had been lengthened, allowing for a more precise shot. Grif ran a talon down it in admiration. Beneath the barrel, a long stiletto blade had been tacked on and tucked out menacingly, giving the gun an overall intimidating appearance.
“This is awesome!” Grif smiled as he examined the pistol closely. It was still the same, save for the major changes and a small blank gold plate screwed onto the right side of the handle, indicating the only thing truly missing from this weapon now was a name. “I can’t wait to try it out on the range,” he said. “Thanks, Hammer Strike.”
“No problem,” he replied with a grin.
“And now it’s my turn.” Pensword pulled out a sheaf of parchment carefully bound in rough leather. “Moonshade helped me to put this together for the binding and cover. The rest, I gathered from recruits and people around town. Twilight was especially helpful; though she also insisted on asking me some questions of a more personal nature about life back home.” He sighed and shook his head. “The things that mare could accomplish if she put that much effort into everything else is staggering.”
The book pulled open easily in Grif’s talons, and the cover page said it all: A Collection of Tales Grim and Glad, By Pensword. “Don’t worry, I gave credit to each person I got a story from. I’m not about to risk breaking copyright laws,” Pensword promised.
“This is awesome. Thank you!” Grif closed the book gently and held it carefully.
Grif went through the rest of his gifts relatively quickly. Canned apple pie filling from Applejack; a fruitcake from Rainbow Dash, which then prompted an ominous statement that he knew what to get her for her birthday; a new book on Gryphon culture from Twilight; specialized wood-based feed for Sylvio from Fluttershy; and a book on pranks written by Pinkie Pie and Rainbow Dash from Pinkie.
While these were all wonderful in their own right, they didn’t quite have the same impact as the gift that followed. The large package was carefully wrapped in a shimmering cloth with gold ribbon for that extra flash of panache that said Style. And although style normally caused the Gryphon to choke and gag, this particular gift stole his breath in an entirely different manner. A soft gasp was the only utterance at first as Grif undid the ribbon and peeled back the cloth to reveal a beautiful white robe. “Where did she find out about these?” he asked as the clothing was unfurled to reveal a far more intricate design that he had come to expect as the cape and hood revealed themselves. Unlike most common wear, the robe’s hood was designed with a beaklike protrusion that curved over the forehead of the wearer to resemble the beak of a predatory bird. Hardened pieces of leather had been sewn above the chest and shoulders of the outfit. The belt was a red sash with a familiar-looking buckle. There was no way that Rarity could have known about this design without … without inside information.
The Gryphon looked slowly at the Earth Pony and broke their character to address his friend directly. “Shawn, what did you do?”
“No idea what you’re talking about,” Hammer Strike replied innocently.
The Doctor’s gift, strangely enough, was a feather made of some kind of metal not even Shawn could name. On touch, the metal reacted almost like a real feather, its fibers shifting and ringing as they vibrated. A card sat next to it, and ink manifested on the formerly blank surface as Grif touched it.
Grif, Happy Hearth’s warming. You probably already know who this is, so I’ll cut right to the chase. This feather is considered a mark of great respect among Gryphonkind. It should prove useful to you in your travels and adventures. Place it under one of your wings. Don’t worry, it won’t get lost. The feather will see to that.
Grif raised a curious brow, but did as he was instructed, only to be assaulted by a flash of burning pain as something stabbed into the skin on his wing like a hot knife. The sensation lasted for only a moment before it vanished as suddenly as it had appeared. When he opened his wings to check for damage, he found the feather had somehow attached itself into one of the feather roots. “How? What?” He looked at his friends.
Hammer Strike shrugged. “It’s The Doctor.”
When Grif looked at the letter again, the ink had disappeared and been replaced with a simple postscript.
P.S. There’s a 4% chance that you might feel some slight discomfort.
“Slight discomfort my—” The end of his sentence was cut off momentarily by the sound of a closing door nearby. “That hurt like hell.”
“That definitely sounds like The Doctor,” Pensword agreed and shook his head. “So what’s next, Grif?”
With a sigh of resignation, Grif turned to Derpy's gift. A box of chocolate muffins greeted him, and he smiled as he breathed their aroma deeply. “Yummy.” Then he laughed. “And that seems to be everything,” he noted, looking around.
“Your turn, Hammer Strike,” Pensword insisted with a grin.
“You sure?” Hammer Strike asked. “I don’t mind going last.”
“Nope. This time, you go first. Well, technically second.”
Moonshade sighed and rolled her eyes. “Just do it, Hammer Strike. I really don’t want to have to deal with you two going back and forth over who gets priority for the next ten minutes.”
“I suppose I can if need be,” Hammer Strike remarked jokingly. Reaching at random, he pulled a small gift from Twilight. Upon removing the wrapping, he was greeted with a book labeled Noble Etiquette and Rules of Conduct: A Beginner’s Guide.
“Is she hinting at something there?” Grif asked. “Or is that just coincidence?”
“Given how much she is for traditions and such, I don’t know.” Hammer Strike shrugged.
“Maybe she’s hoping you can find some loopholes or something? It’s pretty obvious the nobles at Canterlot are going to want to interfere eventually,” Pensword noted.
“Then again, she could be giving it to you to give us a few laughs,” Grif said.
Hammer Strike shrugged once more. “Could be anything.” He placed the book off to the side and proceeded to grab another gift at random. Which ended up being a similar sized gift from Pinkie. Upon unwrapping, the cover and title revealed it to be some form of joke book.
An envelope unleashed a puff of confetti with a tiny streamer sound effect when opened to reveal the pink party Pony’s message.
Hiya, Hammer Strike! I got you this book to help you crack a smile every once in a while. Even lords need to know how to laugh. Try telling a few sometime. You’ll love what they do to people, trust me.
Ooh, ooh, ooh, nearly forgot. P.S. This is Pinkie Pie. Happy Hearth’s Warming!
“I wouldn’t have guessed,” Hammer Strike muttered with a faint chuckle before putting the book off to the side alongside Twilight’s.
“Hammer Strike cracking a joke?” Pensword asked. “Without sarcasm?” He shook his head. “I think the world would end.”
“Clearly.” Hammer Strike smirked as he reached for the next gift. Upon looking at the sender, and the general shape, he had a good idea of what was within. “I get the feeling Rainbow Dash decided we could all use the same gift.”
“That does sound like Rainbow Dash. That being said, maybe it’s actually good. I mean, everything else we’ve tried here in Equestria is,” Pensword noted.
“I’ll give that a try later,” Hammer Strike chuckled.
“These are the perfect gifts,” Grif said. “You can just keep giving them away.”
“Indeed. Or I could try to melt it down. It’s by far the toughest material we have.” He smiled, reaching for the next gift from the pile. This one was a tastefully decorated box with a light peach and gold stripe pattern bound with a golden bow lined by silver on its edges. Inside, he found a series of dress robes designed both for his human form and Pony self. The primary articles consisted of a series of coats modeled after his original blue and gold one. Each was designed to match with certain colors. One of the most prominent, however, was the clean contrast of black and white from the coat to the shirt, vest, pants, and cravat. Unfortunately, the white was the dominant color in the scheme, leaving him open to the curse that always follows that simple luminous splendor.
“This is going to be very difficult to keep clean,” he remarked, looking over the design.
“Well, if you have trouble, you could always go back to Rarity for help. She probably knows all sorts of tricks to save fabrics after everything she’s been through,” Pensword pointed out.
“Probably.” Hammer Strike nodded. “Though, even then, I don’t see myself wearing it too much, sadly.”
“Maybe you can save it for ceremonial occasions?” the Pegasus suggested.
“Special occasions, huh?” He glanced to Pensword. “Similar to what my current outfit was supposed to be?” He smirked.
“Well, in my defense, you are a noble, and … well, formal wear is kind of supposed to be your everyday wear.”
Hammer Strike stayed silent for a moment before sighing. “I miss my casual wear.”
“Did you think about asking Rarity to make you some?” Grif asked.
“Thankfully, yes. It’ll just be some time before it’s complete,” he replied, placing the gift off to the side before reaching for the next.
A large glass jar soon greeted his gaze, filled with brightly wrapped treats that seemed almost to pulse with an inner fire. A simple but artfully crafted card came with it, bearing the familiar trio of butterflies that formed Fluttershy’s cutie mark.
Hello, Hammer Strike, and Happy Hearth’s Warming. Since you’ve made friends with a phoenix, it seems only right that I give you something that he’ll enjoy while he stays with you. These treats are called Ember Coals. They stay stable until the wrapper is removed. Once they’re fully exposed to the air, they ignite. They’re very healthy, good for stoking fire after a phoenix’s rebirth to hasten their growth and for helping to extend their life cycle before their next burning. It also helps to strengthen their fire in the event they have to deal with unwelcome guests or intruders. I hope Renati enjoys them, and that they help strengthen the bond the two of you share.
Wishing you the best,
Fluttershy
P.S. Sorry if I got you the wrong thing. You can bring these back if you want and I can try to give you something else instead. I want my friends to be happy with what they get for Hearth’s Warming.
Hammer Strike let off a soft chuckle. “These will certainly be nice.”
Renati flew over and perched on Hammer Strike’s shoulder, looking curiously at the glass jar. Then he chirped questioningly at the Pony.
Hammer Strike smiled as he pulled one of the treats out and carefully unwrapped it, preparing himself for the fire that was to come.
The ignition came surprisingly quickly. The Earth Pony winced at the heat as it radiated into the wrapper and his hoof, but Renati soon saved him by seizing the blazing object in his beak to hold aloft. The flames seemingly wrapped around the feathers along his face and near his eyes until he raised his head, opened his beak, and let the object slide down his throat. A heavy gulp filled the room, followed by a hissy sigh before Renati’s plumage began to glow and a slight warmth seemed to emanate from the magical creature.
“Well, safe to assume he likes them.” Hammer Strike looked to the others.
“That was … definitely a show,” Pensword said. “Are those supposed to be fireworks of some kind?”
“Phoenixes are weird.” Grif shrugged.
Renati’s head swiveled around immediately and fixed on the Gryphon. His eyes still danced with the remnants of the fire from the treat, giving his glare an extra layer of menace.
“Nevertheless, they are quite unique,” Hammer Strike spoke.
“And apparently willing to hold a grudge,” Moonshade pointed out. “I’ve noticed similar behavior from Philomena before in the palace when she overhears certain nobles badmouthing Princess Celestia. For some reason, they always seem to forget that phoenixes are far smarter than the average bird. And you’ve seen how clever they can be thanks to Fluttershy’s gifts.”
“What did she do?” Pensword asked.
Moonshade smirked. “Let’s just say it was far from pleasant.”
“Okay, next gift. Next gift!” Pensword insisted.
The next package was surprisingly heavy, which was saying something for an Earth Pony as strong as Hammer Strike in comparison to the other smiths and stronger stallions and mares. Even more surprising was how it carried such weight when it was so very small. Another paper was wrapped around it, just like with Grif’s gift. As Hammer Strike stared at the paper, words took shape over its surface.
Hammer Strike, I can’t be cryptic with you. First, you’d see right through me. Second, I may or may not owe you a few favors. Don’t let it go to your head, though I’m fairly certain you never do … or will. Time’s funny like that.
Anyway, this gift’s made from a very specific alloy in a very specific way that, without going into detail, makes sure it can never break or be broken. Don’t ask. (No, seriously, don’t.) Just make good use of it when you’re working. Trust me, you’re going to need it. And besides, what smith wouldn’t want something like this?
Hammer Strike hummed as he looked at the letter, then at the bundle. “Wonder what it could be….”
The letters faded out, and a new sentence faded in.
Well stop standing, asking about what it is and open it! I can’t spoil everything for you, you know.
Yours Truly, The Doctor
Hammer Strike chuckled and rolled his eyes. “Of course he’d say something like that.” Then he hummed. “Let’s see what The Doctor had in mind.” The mixture of curiosity and wariness was soon swallowed by a startled gasp as he peeled back the unique wrapping to reveal what lay beneath. The smithing mallet glinted and shimmered in the light as he pulled it free. True to The Doctor’s word, the entire hammer was made of the metal from top to bottom, ensuring structural integrity and, if what was written was correct, that no part of the hammer would ever be able to wear away or be broken. As he held it aloft and stared at the symbols that had been engraved, a curious blend of Gallifreyan and Equestrian Runes, Pensword and Grif couldn’t help but exchange a knowing and somewhat worried glance.
“Is that…?” Pensword began.
“I think so. Or at least a shrunken replica,” Grif replied.
“Mjolnir,” both breathed.
Moonshade looked on in confusion at their awe. “What is Mjolnir?”
Grif chuckled as Hammer Strike lowered the hammer almost reverently onto the table to join his other gifts. “A powerful weapon forged in the light of a dying star, or so the legends say. The Doctor would be just the kind of person I’d expect could pull something like this off.”
The next two gifts were neither fancy nor elegant nor rare, but that made them infinitely more precious as a can of home-made apple pie filling and a whole box of lucious banana nut muffins both stared Hammer Strike in the face and wafted into his nose. There was no need to ask who they were from, though the cards were still nice to have for confirmation.
“Oh, I’m definitely having those in the morning,” he remarked with a smile as he put them off to the side. “And now, the last two.”
Grif handed Hammer Strike a box. “I talked to Twilight about finding something in case what happened in the empire happens again.”
Hammer opened the gift to reveal a gold bracer. Two gems had been set into it: a topaz cut in the shape of the sun and a pearl that currently hummed with a gentle glow.
“It’s kind of a battery,” Grif explained. “The topaz absorbs sunlight and converts it into energy that’s stored inside the pearl. Should you need a boost, simply tap the pearl four times. But at best, it can hold a couple of hours’ worth of energy, so it’s not exactly gonna make you the energizer bunny.”
Hammer chuckled. “Imagine me on an energy rush.”
“It’d be like he got a full night’s sleep,” Pensword said.
Grif quickly shushed him. “Do you want to invite the world to end?”
Pensword chuckled and nudged his friend in the shoulder. “Still, I won’t walk back on it. It would be nice to see you when you’re better rested, Hammer Strike. Even if it is a little scary. It’d be worth it to see Spock show some deeper emotions.”
Hammer Strike smiled darkly. “Be careful what you wish for, Pensword. You might just get it.” Then he chuckled as his expression lightened and he laid the gift on the table to join his collection.
Pensword nodded at this silent signal and pulled out a simple wooden box he’d carried up from below. “Here’s my gift. You may need a little extra light for it to work properly, but they should still be good to look at at least for now. I had them fashioned based on an old story you told me once, back before all of this started.”
Hammer raised a brow as he opened the box to reveal a set of goggles made with a bronze rim. True to Pensword’s word, the design looked exceptionally familiar. “Wait a minute….” The stallion pulled up the goggles and turned them toward Grif as he tapped the top of them, resulting in light that blared from the front of the lenses to blast the Gryphon in the face.
Grif hissed and turned away from the light. “Hey! That hurts!” As he turned to look at his friends with blurred vision, his pupils had shrunk to pinpricks that slowly struggled to return to their normal size while the barest hints of red veins showed along the edges of the sclera.
“Sorry, I couldn’t help but test it,” Hammer Strike apologized, ensuring they were off. “I’m surprised that you remembered about these though, Pensword.” He tried another function from memory and turned the frame of the lens, watching as it darkened. “Rick Fuoco. Ex Divinia etiam, that’s an old character.”
“They do say the old ones are the best. And it’s incredible what a few Unicorns can do when they put their heads and horns together.” He smiled. “Happy Hearth’s Warming, Hammer Strike.”
“Happy Hearth’s Warming,” Hammer Strike returned.
Pensword basked in the glow of happiness from a gift well enjoyed before finally sighing and opening his eyes to see his friends staring at him. “Oh, it’s my turn now?”
“Yes,” Grif said.
Instead of pie filling, Pensword found a jar of apple preserves waiting to be spread across fresh toasted bread as his gift from the Apple family. And, even as it had been with his friends, so it was for him as he opened Rainbow Dash’s present to reveal a third fruitcake. “So, we all have fruitcakes now. I wonder, is this supposed to be some sort of joke about us or just her being playful?”
Hammer Strike chuckled. “We all have the almighty weapons that smell very fruity.”
“By the power of fruitcake!” Grif held up his fruitcake. “I have the power!”
Moonshade shook her head and facehoofed. “The one day anypony can act like fools and you really go all out.”
Pensword couldn’t help but laugh. “Thank you. Thank you very much,” he said in his best Elvis impression.
“... I have no idea what that was supposed to mean,” Moonshade deadpanned as she looked at Pensword. “Was I supposed to laugh?”
“It’s an inside joke,” Pensword admitted. The next gift was a container of special feed for Rommel, courtesy of Fluttershy, and a chew toy for him to enjoy, too. “This will be great if we need to keep him distracted during exercises,” Pensword said with a smile.
“The troops will probably want to adopt him at the rate he’s been charming them,” Moonshade admitted.
“Heaven help them if he manages to convince them to let him get into a munitions cart.” Pensword chuckled at the thought.
“Rommel would take them all on,” Hammer Strike said, shaking his head. “And by chance win.”
“We might need another pet Patton to keep the two in check.” Pensword sighed and wiped a mirthful tear from his eye before moving to pick up his next gift. This one was wrapped in pink paper. As he pulled the wrappings apart, his eyes opened wider as he gasped in surprise and wonder. He hastily covered the paper and rustled with it before pulling back to reveal a face covered in an outrageous bushy black mustache, complete with large circular glasses and a great big cigar to prop in his mouth. “One morning, I shot an elephant in my pajamas. How he got into my pajamas, I'll never know.” He wiggled his eyebrows, which now looked like two furry black caterpillars.
“Oh, goodness.” Hammer Strike said, putting a hand on his forehead.
“Classic,” Grif laughed.
Moonshade merely raised a skeptical brow. “I take it this is another inside joke I wouldn’t understand?” Her stoic gaze couldn’t help but crack under the onslaught of Pensword’s antics with the getup, including exaggerated swishing and wiggling of his eyebrows and mustache.
Finally, the stallion finished with his fun and turned to the next present, a large box that he opened to reveal a miniature bookshelf stocked to the brim with historical books about Pegasi and their culture and tactics throughout the years. “Something tells me I’m going to have a lot of reading to do….”
“I mean, there are worse fates,” Grif chuckled.
“Indeed,” Pensword agreed and smiled. “I’m looking forward to starting them.”
The next package was wrapped in a familiar paper reminiscent of a certain police call box. “Well, this definitely screams Doctor,” Pensword said as he appreciated the job on the wrapping before pulling it open to reveal eight oranges. He sniffled and wiped the beginnings of a tear away from his eye. “This may be one of the best gifts he could have gotten me,” Pensword admitted as he pulled them out and divided them up amongst his friends. “It reminds me of home, and of Christmas.” He sighed as he turned his attention to the next gift, a light gray package just waiting for him to open it. Though he shouldn’t have been surprised, he still found his body reacting instinctively to the incredible aroma and flavor of the blueberry muffins Derpy had packed for him. One or two of the muffins seemed to sizzle with electric energy that he assumed was a garnish of some sort in Pegasus culture. His stomach certainly seemed drawn to it. “You know, Derpy should really try opening a bakery. Her muffins would probably take the world by storm.”
“I mean, I'm not sure the world’s ready for that,” Grif said.
“If the world isn’t ready, then how come we are?” Pensword asked.
“It’s a joke, Pensword,” Grif sighed.
Moonshade chuckled. “Now this is humor I understand.”
“All right, next gift. Based on the fancy font and embossed edging, I’m going to assume this one is from Rarity,” Pensword said as he eyed the card. When he opened the box, a full military dress uniform greeted him, complete with epaulets and wing holes. “It’s perfect,” he gasped.
“Now you won’t need to wear your armor all the time,” Moonshade agreed with a smile.
“Yeah, you don’t need armor all the time… Just perhaps a weapon, or two, or three, just in case.” Hammer Strike chuckled lightly.
“And a knife in the boot,” Grif added.
Pensword chuckled. “That, too,” he agreed. “Though that does raise a point. We may need to see about arming Moonshade with some better weapons. If we’re always well armed, then she should be, too.”
“You’re not exactly the most armed right now,” Moonshade pointed out.
“We’re in Hammer Strike’s room. Do you really think someone would be stupid enough to try to attack him?” Pensword countered.
“... Good point,” Moonshade admitted. “But what about the rest of you?”
Hammer Strike pulled open his coat to reveal the two swords at his hip, which for some reason didn’t stand out, and a small handle of a knife in one of the inside pockets. “Better safe than sorry,” he said simply. “Better safe than sorry.”
Grif took one of his oranges and spun it gently in his talon as he placed a claw against it, then slowly brought it downwards. The skin peeled off the flesh of its own accord. “I have knives growing out of my hands.”
Moonshade nodded. “And this is another reason why I like you three.”
“I guess it’s time for my gift?” Shawn questioned.
Moonshade smiled and nodded. “It would appear so, milord.” Then she winked.
Hammer Strike stood up from his seat and walked over to one of the back tables in the room that had a wooden case. With a click, he popped open the locks and opened the case. “Pensword, I spent my time thinking on this gift. Something that I feel you might use, but in certain ways.” He pulled an object out of the container but kept it hidden from sight as he stood still. “For how things have become, how they will be, and where you are now, you are missing something.” He turned to reveal a straight sword. The blade had been cleaned and polished to a brilliant gleam. The handguard was made from what looked like gold, but with a darker tint to it. The familiar swirls of damascus style steel swam elegantly over the blade’s surface. The pommel was made out of the same material as the guard to pull the piece together in its entirety. “Pensword, there is something that your rank needs. Something to show it,” Hammer Strike said as he walked toward Pensword.
Pensword’s eyes locked onto the gift, and he froze in place, unable to form the words as the stallion approached.
“I’ll skip over some standard procedure.” Hammer Strike gave a faint chuckle. “Though we have faced trials before, I have the feeling we will find ourselves dealing with more and more with each coming day. So, to give you what I can, I name you Captain of House Strike.” He grinned and flipped the blade for Pensword to grab.
Pensword gaped at Hammer Strike, then pointed to himself. “Me?” he asked in utter disbelief.
Hammer Strike nodded.
Pensword reached with trembling hooves to claim the gift. “I’ll do my best to live up to the responsibility,” he promised. “Though I do have one question.”
“And that would be?”
“I see the case, and I see the blade, but … where’s the sheath?”
“In a slot underneath where the blade goes within the case.” Hammer Strike gestured towards the case.
Pensword smirked then and raised the weapon in a flamboyant swish. “Then you have my sword!”
“As good as that line would be,” Grif chuckled. “Not as good when we’ve all got swords.”
“Could have gone with your gun,” Hammer Strike offered with a smirk.
“Then round it out with a cannon?” Pensword ventured.
“That would have been a very different adventure,” Grif laughed.
“Indeed,” Hammer Strike chuckled.
“So, who’s going to help me strap this on?” Pensword asked.
“I’ll do it,” Moonshade said, even as she approached him. It didn’t take long for the belt to be fitted on and adjusted along Pensword’s torso to put the blade in easy access. The hilt tapped against Pensword’s foreleg, but only when he drew it back far enough. It would take some getting used to, but he would still be able to navigate reasonably.
“Well? How do I look?” Pensword asked of his friends.
“Prepared,” Hammer Strike remarked with a faint chuckle.
Pensword smiled. “I suppose I’ll need to add swordsmanship to my training regimen now, too.” Next, he reached for a small pouch that jingled when he hefted it between clenched teeth. He dropped it on one hoof and presented it to Moonshade. “I’m … not sure if this would be something you want or not, really, but … back on Earth, many humans take great pride in collecting unique forms of currency. I’d never seen these kinds of bits before we were sent back in time, so I thought they might interest you. I … hope that’s okay.”
She looked inside the bag as silvery glints of light flickered over her face from within the cloth folds. Then she looked up and fixed Pensword with a broad smile. “These are amazing! Thank you!”
“Um, you’re welcome,” Pensword said in a somewhat bewildered tone. “I … didn’t think you’d be this excited, admittedly.”
“There’s not a lot that survived with both Celestia and Luna's face on it,” she explained.
“Really?” Pensword asked in surprise. “What prompted the change?”
Moonshade gave him a level look.
“I meant more for Princess Celestia’s,” Pensword clarified. “I … think I can guess for Princess Luna.”
“I suppose the princess simply thought it was fair to remove both.”
Pensword smiled. “Well, I’m glad it was able to make you happy. The gift, I mean, not the … well, you know.” A hint of a blush rose in his cheeks through the fur.
“It means a lot that you thought of me. Thank you.” She gave him a light nuzzle.
“Well,” Pensword cleared his throat as the blush deepened. “You are a very important friend, after all.”
“Uh, Hammer Strike, need to discuss some modifications with you in my room?” Grif said.
Hammer Strike gave a nod in return. “Let’s see what you need,” ,e remarked, following Grif into the next room over.
“I … guess we’ll see about starting to clean up, then?” Pensword asked.
“That makes sense,” Moonshade agreed, and the moment was past.
Grif led Hammer Strike to their room and carefully closed the door. “Okay, so we need to get those two together.”
“They do seem to have some interest in each other,” Hammer Strike conceded. “But I feel like pushing things may not be the best option.”
“I mean, you know him. If we leave it, the apocalypse will come before he makes a move.”
Hammer Strike hummed. “I suppose that’s fair. Though, having both of us pushing would definitely not be a good idea, so I’ll leave that in your hands.”
“If that's what you think is best.” Grif shrugged.
“I’ve never been good at this sort of stuff. I’ve been told I don’t pick up on hints.”
“Very well.” Grif nodded.
“In any case, we should delay a bit longer, since modifications aren’t exactly quick,” Hammer Strike remarked before adding, “for most.”
Grif nodded. “Let's hope things go easily from here.”
“They probably won’t, but I’m sure we’ll manage it.”
“Yeah.” Grif nodded.
When the pair returned to Pensword’s room, the Pegasus had already stored or otherwise shifted his loot either beneath his bed or on one of the small desks. Meanwhile, Moonshade had carefully stored the bag of coins away among her few other possessions.
“We left your gifts there for you,” Penword offered gently.
“Thanks,” Grif said.
“Appreciate it.” Hammer Strike nodded. “In any case, after this, I’m going to bed. I’ve already been up for a few days working on everything, and I can use some rest.”
“Do you need one of us to knock you out?”
“No, I’m sure I’ll manage just fine so long as someone doesn’t wake me up.” He dismissed the idea.
“Worst case scenario, I suppose we could ask if Me-Me or Mutatio if they know some ways to help later,” Pensword said. “If you ever need it, I mean.”
“I’m sure I’ll figure something out if it comes down to it,” Hammer Strike dismissed. “Until then though, I’ll just grab my stuff and head to bed for now. Good night, everyone.”
Pensword nodded. “Sleep well.”
“You too, my friend,” Grif said as he swept his gifts up and followed Hammer Strike out.
“And then there were two,” Pensword said with a tired sigh. “Talk about an eventful day, huh?”
“Very much so.” She nodded.
“Um, … thanks again for being there for me,” he said with a blush. “The three of us have come a long way because of you.”
“I’m just doing my duty.” She smirked.
“That looks like the kind of smirk people use when they’re planning to take a cocky character down a notch.”
“You have a weird viewpoint on things,” she laughed.
“Well, yeah. That is what we’re here for, isn’t it? Helping to build up a new armed force that’s better than the guard right now with our ‘weird viewpoints’?”
“Weird isn’t always bad,” she noted.
“I’m glad to hear you say that,” Pensword replied with his own laugh.
“Are you planning to mate? Should we go find other accommodations?” Mutatio asked quite suddenly.
From somewhere in the inn, the sound of a record scratching suddenly carried through the air and into the room. Pensword turned to stare at the Changeling with wide eyes. “Wh-wha…?”
Moonshade promptly facehoofed and shook her head.
“I … see I have made a mistake,” Mutatio said slowly as he literally read the room with his senses. “It seems we still have much to learn.”
“Yes,” Moonshade agreed, still shaking her head. “Much.”
Moonshade patrolled the corridors and hallways with her ever-present slow and careful pace. As she walked the long familiar route, she passed another Thestral whom she paid no mind to. She turned around and passed the Thestral again and they slowly matched pace with her step for step. Again, Moonshade paid no mind. It wasn’t until her third pass along the route that the Thestral stepped into her view, their form suddenly shifting to become an entirely different being as the figure of Luna slowly took shape.
“Ah, Major, I am here for your report,” the Princess of the Night commented.
“Right, ma’am. Of course,” she said. “Should have realized this was a dream. Currently, things are going well. I’m aware of the situation and am doing my best to assist the three in accomplishing what they need.” She looked unsure. “How goes the research into allowing Pensword to return to his human form?”
“Slowly,” Luna admitted sadly. “We currently lack anything powerful enough to heal as instantaneously as would be required for him to become human again at this time. And the technology to keep him alive while attempting any sort of repair or regeneration is also not available.”
“I understand.” Moonshade’s voice hitched a little. “Well then, I do hope you’ll manage to stagger the flow of new recruits at this time. It would be advisable to hold off until we breach the Everfree.”
“We had already decided to step things down until the holidays are over at least,” Luna assured with a nod.
“Understood, Your Highness.” The Thestral bowed her head. “Good news is that things are going well. The former trouble recruits have begun to show progress in being added into the fold. Currently, several companies have been set up, and the extra work is aiding the local civilian population, allowing for better good will.”
“Very good,” Luna said. “Are you still clear to move on in the spring?”
“We will be, Chieftess. The equipment will be sorted and packed when spring comes. The fort will be turned over to Ponyville when the paperwork is ready, and we will be arranging to keep it garrisoned.” Even in her dream corridor, she was constantly turning her head toward where Pensword was sleeping. Luna noticed the tick and decided to address it.
“Is something wrong?” she asked.
“I am getting used to silence when I had gotten used to hearing the sounds of his breath and clicking of his valves. And now, a normal heart rhythm. What is good is he is not crying in his sleep this time.”
“You realize we may be unable to restore his true form while he is on Equis, yes?” Luna asked.
“I am. And I admit the idea concerns me.” She sighed. “I have always admired Pensword, and now to see him as he is, it is unusual, not something I was prepared for,” she admitted.
“You know,” Luna chuckled, “I once met Lunar Fang.”
For the first time all night, Moonshade missed a step. “You—so he does get married. That means that some of that cross species barrier that I heard Shawn speak about once will slowly fade?” she asked, unsure of how to feel at the moment.
“Spoilers.” Luna chuckled again. “Just rest assured that not everything is as cut and dry as you think. Things will be clear with time. For now, let things advance naturally.”
“Of course, Princess Luna.” Moonshade saluted. “Also, thank you for the weekly check-in. I think the group is going to enjoy taming the forest, from what I have seen of the humans and Pensword’s own actions. They seem almost conditioned to tame the wild and cultivate it to their whims…. Humans, the entire idea of them looking at the Everfree forest and think, next challenge please. One of them is even taming a Timber Wolf pup.”
“Well, unfortunately, I have many more duties to attend to. Look to your left, and it’s time to wake up, Major,” Luna said as the world around them melted away.
Major Moonshade blinked and looked to the left, as instructed, and the dream melted away as Moonshade woke up to find herself resting on the mattress that had been her bed since arriving in Ponyville. A quick look showed that Pensword was gone. A blanket laid over her body, and a note had been left by her pillow.
I took Second watch. You need to not push yourself so much, going so long for Hearth’s Warming. Now keep your promise and sleep.
Pensword
She stared at the message before she remembered the words from Luna, and so she turned her head to the left. Sitting at the major’s left was a fairly large box wrapped in crescent moon wrapping paper. Moonshade carefully unwrapped the box and opened it. Inside was a scroll and a foot-long serrated dagger. The entire thing was cast in blue metal, and a Thestral eye was engraved on the center of the cross hilt. The scroll unfurled to read:
Dear Major,
This dagger was based on the dagger that belonged to Lunar Fang. Something tells me you may be needing it very soon.
HRH Princess Luna of Equestria.
With care, Moonshade attached the dagger to her weapon harness to display it proudly before she got up to leave the room.
The door opened to reveal a familiar set of wary eyes and the glint of wing blades as they retracted slowly against his sides. “Moonshade?” he asked.
“Good morning, Pensword,” Moonshade greeted.
“Shouldn’t you be sleeping still? I thought you said that potion of yours can knock you out for days. Are you sure you’re all right?”
“I’ll be fine,” Moonshade assured. “I’m not going to miss these days.”
“Out of rest or out of sheer stubbornness?” Pensword asked with a smirk.
“Don’t underestimate me, human,” she said as she returned the smirk.
Pensword chuckled. “Wouldn’t dream of it, Thestral.” He gestured floridly with a wing, not even missing a beat at the banter. “And might I escort the Major to the mess hall for some well-earned breakfast?”
“You may, indeed.” She smiled as they began their descent.
“And Moonshade?”
“Yes, Pensword?”
“Thanks for that. It’s good to be reminded of that part of me, even if I can’t change back right now. Matthew makes a large part of Pensword, after all.”
As the two finished their descent, they were surprised to see the familiar shining golden armor of two fully fledged Unicorn solar guards gleaming from their place of inquiry at Berry’s counter. The expressions were the schooled bleakness that all professional guards were expected to employ while on duty.
“Is Princess Celestia visiting today?” Pensword asked as he stared at the guards.
“Not to my knowledge?” Moonshade shrugged.
“Then why are there guards here we definitely haven’t seen before? Are we dealing with more imposters?”
“I’m not sure. Best be ready, just in case.”
Pensword nodded. “So, which one do you want to take if we have to fight?”
“The one on my side.”
“All right, then. Let’s see what our strangers are up to.”
The two approached the counter together. “Good morning, Berry,” Pensword greeted warmly. “Are these some new guests?”
“I was just telling them we don’t have room for any new guests,” Berry said testily. “These colts don’t know how to take no for an answer.”
“You need to leave,” Moon Shade stated firmly.
The guards eyed the Thestral carefully and made note of the armor she wore, then looked to Pensword. “Judging by your appearance, you must be Major Moonshade,” the one on the left said. “We didn’t expect to meet you until we reached the barracks.”
“Due to the temporary nature of the barracks and lack of officers quarters, I have been stationed here. Who are you?”
The Unicorn removed an envelope from inside his breastplate. “Apologies for the brusque demeanor before. We’ve been transferred here alongside two Earth Pony guards on Princess Celestia’s orders to join your cadre as trainers and temporary magical protectors for Lords Shawn and Hammer Strike. Our primary mission, however, is to assist with teaching magical theory in combat application to recruits, inasmuch as we are able. You’ll find the details there.” He nodded, then offered a salute. “Permission to speak frankly, Major?”
“Speak,” she said, taking the letter.
“Her Highness is playing games. While it’s true you need magic instructors to aid the Unicorns in your care in their development, there was a … certain matter we were tasked with bringing to your lord’s attention instead of having the individual in question arrive himself. In the princess’ words, ‘I’ve given them enough of a headache to deal with for now. I’m not about to escalate it.’”
“I’ll get his attention then,” she said.
“If the lord is still asleep, we would rather not disturb him.” He pulled a scroll from his breastplate this time. “Is there a regent or some representative to whom we might deliver this instead?”
“What exactly is going on here?” Grif asked as he glided down the stairs with Sylvio panting happily on his back.
“New transfers from the capital to help with magic training,” Pensword said. “And apparently, they have a letter from someone there, too? Addressed to Hammer Strike.”
“Well, let me see.” Grif held out his hands and took it before either Unicorn could object and began to read.
To the most honorable Lord Hammer Strike, Lord of the Everfree, Wielder of Master Smithing, Legend of the Empty House, and Friend to Blueblood,
You can imagine our surprise when we learned that the legend who fought beside the founder of our bloodline in the Third Gryphon War had reappeared miraculously in Equestria once again. It is our desire to renew that tie and forge new ones in this generation with the current descendants of your old friend.
As such, House Blueblood extends its invitation to you to visit Blueblood Manor, so that we may better know you and that we might better acquaint you to some of the changes that you missed in your absence while protecting Equestria and The Crystal Empire from King Sombra.
While you are here, we can also discuss the series of unfortunate events that led to your current predicament regarding the large staff that have recently been assigned to you by Princess Celestia herself. I am loath to go against her wishes, but from the gossip I’ve heard around Canterlot, you are not one who relishes the idea of a full staff attending to you. As such, it is possible we may be able to come to some mutual accommodations to benefit us both.
It is not wise for one to be without trustworthy guards. And I can vouch for the steadfastness of Blast and Tower Shield. You will find them competent and loyal to their duty to Equestria. I will not ask for their return in our negotiations as an act of good faith. For me to request such a thing would be foolhardy, considering the dangers that you and your allies will face going against the Everfree Forest. However, the remainder of the staff you have received is another matter entirely. As such, I propose a discussion about just how much staff you require for your needs. Those you do not wish to remain can be returned to House Blueblood with proper pay and benefits appropriate for their station and talents.
This will be the optimal solution to both of our problems. And while you are here, we will be able to offer you insight and counsel regarding which noble families may prove trustworthy and which are … less than desirable to associate with.
As is customary from your time, you may bring the head of your house guard with you, should you have one appointed in this modern day, along with your mercenary friend. Our records indicate that it was rare for you two to separate, save for when fulfilling your duties in the Third Gryphon War. Should you desire to bring any other guests, you have our permission to do so. We will simply require a list of names so that we can make the proper arrangements for your arrival. I wait with baited breath for your reply.
As a final word of advice for the modern age, please note that a letter not returned promptly can be taken as an insult in our circles, and often is. I am not one to jump to such hasty conclusions, of course, but it does bear keeping in mind if you wish to maintain positive relations with other heads of state, infrastructure, trade, etc.
Thank you for your hasty reply. I wish you good fortune in your efforts to tame the wild lands of the Everfree. May we both find success in our endeavors.
Yours Sincerely,
Prince Blueblood, Lord of Upper Canterlot Caverns Royal Hot Springs, Keeper of the Royal Keys to the Observatory Peak, Honorary Lieutenant in the Expedition Forces, Living heir to the Principality of Hoofington, Honorary Mayor of Potsdam, Owner of the Sea….
“The last third of the page lists literally every title he has,” Grif said as he examined it in utter flabbergastation. “He even put in Spelling Bee Champion of the Sixth Grade.”
“... What is this guy, the embodiment of the Ego Core or something?” Pensword asked. “I mean, I know he’s supposed to be spoiled, but I didn’t know it went to this degree.” He sighed. “Why couldn’t they just keep it simple, like military ranking?”
“Pass me a quill, ink, and paper,” Grif ordered. When he had them, he began to write.
Dear Prince Blueblood XXXI, Lord of Upper Canterlot Caverns Royal Hot Springs, Keeper of the Royal Keys to the Observatory Peak, Blah, Blah, Etcetera, you're not that impressive.
My Lord Hammer Strike, Lord of Everfree, Master Smith, Wielder of the Giant Slayer, Wielder of the Night Cleaver, He Who Works His Craft Tirelessly, Hero of the Third Gryphon War, Guardian of the Poor and Distraught, Master of Metals, Lord of the Smiths’ Guild, Wielder of the Sacred Hammer, Forger of the Unforgeable, Enemy of Chrysalis, Enemy of Sombra, Friend of Cave Trolls, Bane of Windigos, Friend of Star Swirl, and sometimes referred to as Lord Hammer Strike the Insanely Awesome, wishes me to respond to your letter, as he is indisposed and frankly really doesn't give a damn.
It is unsightly and altogether rude for someone of your station to address my lord in the fashion in which you have chosen. You send your missive with the mask of politeness only to hide demands and unnecessary veiled threats, and it is neither appreciated nor something my lord will condone. You brandish the name of your ancestor as though his actions determine your own worth, which in and of itself goes against the spirit of Lord Hammer Strike’s house and creed. He will not meet with you and wishes you not to contact him again. The servants have acted according to their will, and he will handle them as he sees fit.
And since I know you can’t seem to listen to orders, let alone fathom the very idea of respecting another’s wishes, allow me to repeat myself.
Do not contact us again.
Have a nice day,
Sir Grif, Gryphon Who Doesn’t Need Titles Because People Actually Respect Him.
Moonshade blinked after reading over the missive. “Well, that will buy us a week,” she snorted. “Turns out you three fight on paper as well as you do on the battlefield.”
Pensword couldn’t help but grin. “Nice touch. Sometimes, a hammer is the best tool to use if you want to break a funhouse mirror. Though I can’t help but wonder what will come next if this escalates. A yo mamma fight, perhaps, refereed by the princesses? These nobles do seem to put a great deal of import on their lineages.”
“That would be a sight to see.” Moonshade smirked, showing her fangs.
“With the material we have from Earth, I guarantee that Grif could slaughter him verbally almost as easily as he could skin him physically.”
“Though Pensword still reigns over the world of puns,” Grif said. Then he shuddered. “Some of them are so bad, they’re actually good.”
Pensword winced, then put on his best cheesy British accent he could manage. “I got better….”
“Okay, I’ll give you points for the reference,” Grif said.
“I can try a few more impressions if that’ll help,” Pensword said with a smirk.
Moonshade looked at the pony she admired and shook her head. “The history books never said anything about how silly you were,”she said, doing her best to hide a grin.
“Major, one of the most important things you learn in life when it’s constantly in danger of being ended is that you need to look for the bright side of things, especially with humor.”
“Welp, time to go mail this,” Grif said, getting up.
“You mean after you finish the second draft, right?” Pensword asked, still smiling.
“If it ain’t broke,” Grif said, giving a casual wave to his friend as he strode to the door and left.
Pensword’s eyes widened in shock, and he flapped into the air. “Oh, sweet Celestia,” he swore, then zipped at perhaps one of the fastest speeds he had ever managed on record. “Grif, wait!”
The two Unicorns stared at one another, then at Moonshade. “Are they … always like this, Ma’am?”
Extended Holiday Chapter 26: Opening Salvos of House Blueblood
Prince Blueblood strolled through the halls with the reserve that was expected of one so noble as himself. From a young age, his father had taught him the importance of a proper appearance, proper manners, proper breeding. It was not right for one such as he to participate in unseemly and common activities. Not for a house that was meant to be a shining example to the others. Especially with competition getting so fierce for Princess Celestia’s ear.
Blueblood allowed a small smirk to cross his lips. After all, the other nobles didn’t have his particular resources in that regard. “Auntie” Celestia still doted on him, though it may not have been the same as when he was a foal. After all, when one grows older, one must learn to interact as an adult. But he still knew how to weedle what was needed when the moment demanded it. And that made him an asset to the house.
Of course, part of such high breeding also included maintaining high standards for only the best of the best to serve. Regrettably, that often meant a high turnover in staff. Good help is hard to find. And House Blueblood would only accept the best. Still, he had to admit he may have been … a little too harsh with the staff.
…
And perhaps a little too drunk. Only a few staff remained now, a mere skeleton crew to try to keep the house as orderly as possible. Occasionally, he would see the hint of a familiar white bat wing pulling out of sight as he approached. The maid was perhaps one of the most diligent of the lot. And she adhered to the policy of servants being seen and not heard religiously, even to the point of avoiding being caught by any member of the family.
It was better this way.
Or so his father had said.
If Prince Blueblood tried, he could almost reach a memory of that white figure. A joyful laugh. The scent of moist green grass and the blur of garden sculptures as he plunged through bushes and brush without a care in the world.
And then it was gone. Like all such memories and fantasies, Blueblood had trained himself to lock them away in a place where they wouldn’t hurt him, and where those that might seek to assail his mind couldn’t use them against him without a fight. He was the scion of House Blueblood, after all. He had no right to think of such things when there were far more important matters to tend to.
It was better this way.
A tingle in his horn brought a more sincere smile to his face as the spell he’d placed on his letter went off. The missive had been opened and read. Surely, Lord Hammer Strike would take great pleasure in renewing ties with the descendants of an old friend. A brilliant touch that even his father would be proud of. And, naturally, once Hammer Strike had the opportunity to visit the manor, it would be a simple matter to establish ties and begin forging alliances. That, of course, would mainly be handled by his father, but at least it would be a step in the right direction, and a means to ensure other families couldn’t use Hammer Strike to try to get the princess’ ear.
Then he frowned as a thought struck. “Oh dear. They don’t have a means to send a letter back promptly, do they?” he mused. “I suppose there is that baby Dragon Twilight Sparkle carries with her, but that simply won’t do once they press into the Everfree.” He tapped his chin as he pondered, then nodded. “I’ll have to bring this to Auntie Celestia at once.” He strode confidently to the front doors and pushed them open with his magic, much to the surprise of the two guards on duty.
Blueblood glanced casually at the both of them, then sniffed and nodded. “You’ll do,” he said. “I need an escort into the city. I’ve some errands to run, and since the Shields have abandoned their posts, I will rely on you to fill their horseshoes.”
Across Equestria, for some reason, Rainbow Dash felt like punching Blueblood.
The two Unicorns bowed. “Yes, Your Highness,” they said in unison, though dread caused a shudder to pulse through the both of them, which they quickly channeled into the ground beneath them as they entered into a march to match pace with the heir to their lord’s estate.
“We will go first to write a proper missive for Auntie Celestia, at which time I will order one of you to deliver it while I make my mandatory public appearance for the commoners. House Strike will require a Dragon of their own if they wish to join the Dragonfire network. Since I know how my aunt can be, you have my permission to remain with her, should she desire it of you. I’ll even let you fight for the honor, should you wish. The winner may have an audience with the princess, and the loser will remain with me.”
“You are too generous, Prince Blueblood,” the older of the two guards, a white Unicorn with a silver mane, said.
“Yes, I know.” He smiled as they strode toward the gates, and his stomach rumbled. “Hmm. And perhaps a visit to my usual teahouse for a snack,” he mused, even as the gates opened wide at the magical prompting of his escort.
The air was filled with the hum of anticipation that always precedes a decree. But whether that decree would lead to elation or dread remained to be seen. Princess Celestia looked carefully at her guests, her eyes intent. Her usual playfulness was nowhere to be seen as she peered over her cup of tea at the artisans and craftsponies who had answered her call.
“As you all know, I don’t act without a proper reason,” she began as she returned her cup to its saucer. “And you are doubtless wondering at the reason for me to have you all come for a private audience with me at the same time. Unlike other times, when there is little at stake, I cannot afford to be playful and lead you along. As such, I am going to be perfectly frank. I have called you here because Equestria has need of your talents, your skills, and perhaps most of all, your flexibility when it comes to working outside the norm.” She paused briefly to allow her words to sink into her subjects’ psyches. “As I suspect you all know by now, I have commanded Lord Shawn to train recruits and misfits within the guard over the last several months. This was done with the express intent of granting him a force with which he could mount an expedition into the Everfree Forest and reclaim the lands that have fallen within its clutches.
“When that time comes, and he finally makes his move, by royal decree and commission, I wish you all to be there to assist him with restoring that which was claimed by the ravages of time and the fallout of chaos. Architects, builders, masons, carpenters, pavers, horticulturalists, warriors. All of you have skills, talents, and backgrounds that will prove indispensable in this endeavor.”
A low murmur carried through the chamber.
Yes, dread. It had definitely taken a turn toward dread.
“But, … Your Highness, The Everfree is one of the most dangerous places in the whole kingdom,” one of the civilians finally spoke up.
“Which is why I am ensuring that Lords Shawn and Hammer Strike will have the proper expeditionary force necessary to protect all of you and ensure that the way is clear and safe to begin the task of restoring the castle where my sister and I once ruled together so long ago. I do not make this command lightly, nor do I wish to place your families in danger. Rest assured, they will remain here in Canterlot under my watchful eye until such time as it is deemed safe for them to join you in the lands where unity was shattered. And you will be safe. The Solar and Lunar Guards will make sure of that, as will Lord Hammer Strike himself. I assure you, his reputation is well earned. He will not suffer any of you to endure danger or threat that is beyond his means to protect you.”
“And neither will we,” a grim Unicorn with a copper coat and purple mane said. “Trust Princess Celestia. She knows what’s best, and she’ll always look out for us.”
Once more, the murmur carried. And while there was still some discontent, the tension had at least begun to settle somewhat.
“Naturally, you and your families will also be compensated richly for your troubles. I know many of you have businesses and orders to attend to. Commissions, projects, and more. However, in this case, the fate of the nation must come first. I will personally see to it that any customers who may be frustrated will receive compensation from my personal funds. And I will ensure that your good names remain intact. If you have any nobles you are currently engaged with, I will deal with them personally. There will be no reprisals, no retribution. You have my word.”
“And how long do we have to wait for this calling?” one of the workers asked.
“Until Winter Wrapup is complete, possibly a week or two after to give the Everfree enough time to thaw on its own. Coordination with Lords Shawn and Hammer Strike will give us a more certain deadline as the situation continues to develop. At a pre-arranged time, you will be summoned and escorted with your tools to Ponyville. And from there, you will be under the express command of the Lord of the Everfree. I know that each of you will serve our kingdom well.” She fixed each with her gaze, allowing them to see just a hint of the many years she carried behind those eyes. “However, for the sake of preventing any attempts from outside forces to intervene in our plans, we will be taking certain precautions, including the request that you refrain from any form of discussion about this plan with anyone, save for your spouses.
“And with that mutual understanding established, we can now return to what this meeting was always meant to be, an act of whimsy by a monarch who enjoys being unpredictable from time to time while treating her subjects. Please, enjoy your tea and cakes.”
At that moment, a gentle knocking sounded at the doors, and a solar guard entered to whisper in the princess’ ear. Celestia nodded and looked to her guests. “It seems that there is a small matter of state that requires my attention. I will return shortly.” She rose and bowed her head gracefully before giving a winning smile and making her withdrawal.
“A letter from Prince Blueblood, Your Highness,” the guard said as he passed the envelope to her. “His lordship expressed that it was an urgent matter that he believed you might want to look into regarding what is to happen in Ponyville.”
“An urgent matter?” Celestia raised a curious brow as she took the letter from the guard. She easily opened the envelope and scanned the contents, then nodded gravely. “Interesting. I must admit that I hadn’t anticipated the need for a Dragon to help maintain contact. But young Blueblood does raise a point. The Everfree may not be the easiest terrain to pass through at first, and having a dragon on hand for swift and uninterrupted delivery in a forest as wild as that would certainly be of use to Lord Hammer Strike’s endeavors.” She nodded. “You can tell the prince that his request is received and approved. I will ensure it’s taken care of myself.”
The guard nodded in acknowledgement. “If … I may be so bold, You Highness,” he began.
“Please, speak your mind.”
“With your permission, I would like to spend a little more time here at the castle. I will not abandon my post, nor my duty, but the prince is … a unique charge.”
Celestia sighed. “He is the product of his own choices and his father’s urgings. I admit I hoped that his experience at the Gala might change him. But it seems not even the most generous of mares can get through to him.” She shook her head sadly, then looked on the guard again. “I believe I can afford to extend this informal audience for a time. If that is truly what you need. There is tea and cake aplenty in the room behind us, and our business there is concluded. However, I have a strict order for you as your princess and head of state.”
“Anything, Your Highness.”
“You are not to breathe nor write nor sign nor spread so much as a word of whatever you may hear. Do I make myself clear?”
“If … it’s a matter of security, Highness, I think it would be better if I didn’t know. I still have to serve House Blueblood, too, after all. So long as I’m posted there.”
“Then will you allow me to send you some place where you might have the leisure to rest without fear of such a compromising situation? You need only choose and I will have you sent there.”
“Thank you, Your Highness.”
Celestia nodded. “I’ll arrange an escort for you at once.”
At that moment, her horn began to tingle. Moments later, a scroll with a blank wax seal materialized out of the air, accompanied by a small card tied to the parchment by a ribbon. She quickly pulled it out, her curiosity aroused. Twilight’s letters were never without a proper seal. Could she have forgotten in her haste? The Alicorn easily undid the bow and looked over the card properly. Its message was short and to the point.
Please forward to Prince Blueblood.
Twilight would be unlikely to wish any contact with Blueblood after the fiasco at the gala. So, removing her from the equation, the next most logical sender would have been Hammer Strike. She rubbed her chin in thought as she considered the seal.
“I’ll have to arrange for a designer to meet with them,” she mused. “If he is who we think, this may yet be the best way to tell….”
“Pardon, Your Highness?” the guard asked.
“Ah, my apologies,” Celestia said as the words brought her back to the present. “I believe this letter came from Lord Hammer Strike. I was merely pondering out loud while I looked over the scroll.” She passed it to the guard. “This is meant for your lord. If you would be so good as to deliver it to him when next you see him?”
The guard nodded. “Of course, Your Highness.”
“Good. Now, then, let’s see about finding that ‘distraction’ I have to keep you around for, hmm? Then after that, I have some business I need to take up with my sister before her work begins tonight.”
“O-of course, Your Highness.” The guard saluted as the princess began to lead him away.
Celestia frowned in thought, even as she continued to flesh out the idea in her mind. ‘Yes, we can compare what he designs with the old seals in the archives. And if Luna is able to see his mindscape, perhaps she will gain some insight that way as well. I just hope she can forgive my interrupting her rest for this.’ She allowed herself one gulp. Just one.
‘Faust be with me,’ she prayed. ‘Gods know I’ll need the help.’
Prince Blueblood was thoroughly pleased with himself as he trotted to the gates of his estate. The mares had been particularly affectionate this time. And while he had no interest in them romantically, it certainly didn’t hurt for one to be adored by the public. Adoration meant influence and power, an absolute must in the world of politics. He could live with a show or two from time to time if it meant he could keep his father satisfied and earn more influence in the community.
The gates of the manor opened wide to greet the party, and a burnished gray pony with a silvery striped mane stood in full suit coat complete with bowtie. He bowed to Prince Blueblood as the stallion approached, exposing the cutie mark on his flanks, a single silver tray.
“Welcome back, Master Blueblood,” the butler greeted.
“Fine Silver,” Blueblood returned with his usual indifference. This was a servant, after all. One did not pay mind to servants, save for when evidence of a plot arises. And it is better to let potential traitors believe that their master will not deign to listen when they complain behind his back. So Baron Blueblood had said. And so it must be.
Fine Silver rose at the acknowledgement and presented a silver tray, on which rested a scroll without a seal. “This message arrived from the palace by courier,” he said, even as he allowed himself a quick glance toward the elder of Blueblood’s escort. “It came with the request to be forwarded to you. I believe it to be the response to your letter that you have been expecting.”
Now Blueblood’s interest was peaked. “So soon?” he asked as he turned to look at his servant and the message he carried. A spark of magic was all it took to raise the scroll to his face, break the seal, and unfurl it to read the contents.
Despite Pensword’s attempts, Grif refused to change a thing about the letter, and his flare for insult carried just as strongly as his disregard for unearned authority.
Dear Prince Blueblood XXXI, Lord of Upper Canterlot Caverns Royal Hot Springs, Keeper of the Royal Keys to the Observatory Peak, Blah, Blah, Etcetera, you're not that impressive.
My Lord Hammer Strike, Lord of Everfree, Master Smith, Wielder of the Giant Slayer, Wielder of the Night Cleaver, He Who Works His Craft Tirelessly, Hero of the Third Gryphon War, Guardian of the Poor and Distraught, Master of Metals, Lord of the Smiths’ Guild, Wielder of the Sacred Hammer, Forger of the Unforgeable, Enemy of Chrysalis, Enemy of Sombra, Friend of Cave Trolls, Bane of Windigos, Friend of Star Swirl, and sometimes referred to as Lord Hammer Strike the Insanely Awesome, wishes me to respond to your letter, as he is indisposed and frankly really doesn't give a damn.
It is unsightly and altogether rude for someone of your station to address my lord in the fashion in which you have chosen. You send your missive with the mask of politeness only to hide demands and unnecessary veiled threats, and it is neither appreciated nor something my lord will condone. You brandish the name of your ancestor as though his actions determine your own worth, which in and of itself goes against the spirit of Lord Hammer Strike’s house and creed. He will not meet with you and wishes you not to contact him again. The servants have acted according to their will, and he will handle them as he sees fit.
And since I know you can’t seem to listen to orders, let alone fathom the very idea of respecting another’s wishes, allow me to repeat myself.
Do not contact us again.
Have a nice day,
Sir Grif, Gryphon Who Doesn’t Need Titles Because People Actually Respect Him.
“What a boarish thing to say!” Blueblood scoffed. Then he shook his head. “Just what I would expect from a Gryphon. Brash, abrasive, rude, and confrontational.” The scroll soon found itself crunched into a tiny ball that hovered next to him. “No, this will not do. This simply will not do.” He strode purposefully toward the manor.
“Sir?” Fine Silver asked.
“It seems my letter reached Lord Hammer Strike’s bodyguard, rather than Hammer Strike himself. And if the contents of this letter are anything to judge by, the big brute won’t allow anything else I might send near his master.” He sputtered and shook his head again. “It seems that more drastic measures will have to be taken if we want to reestablish ties.”
“Drastic, Sir?”
Blueblood nodded. “I want you to pack my bags, Fine Silver. It seems that if I am to succeed in this endeavor, or at the very least satisfy my father, then I will need to visit Lord Hammer Strike personally.”
“In Ponyville, Sir?”
Blueblood shuddered. “Yes. In Ponyville. Go on now. Gather whoever else you may need to help you. Make sure there is enough packed for several days.”
“And when do you plan to depart, Master Blueblood? Naturally, we will make all the necessary arrangements.”
“I will inform you when I am ready. You have your orders. Carry them out.”
Fine Silver bowed. “Yes, Prince Blueblood.”
The young lord strode on without a backward glance until he reached the doors to his study. Then he turned to face his guards. “I wish to be alone. Make sure I am not disturbed unless it is important.”
Both guards banged their breastplates. “Yes, Sir.”
The doors closed heavily behind him, and Blueblood approached a blank table with intricate patterns and designs not unlike the masterful tile of a grand church or the ever changing designs of a kaleidoscope. Some stones sparkled. Others were soapy. Others still were black as pitch. In the sanctity of his study, he alone held sway. And he alone knew all of its secrets.
A tap of the horn on the table’s surface soon transformed the abstract art into a glorious model, stretching tall and wide with mighty towers and arcane wonders. Strong battlements, a garrison, a proper gate and portcullis. This was not to be a mansion or a manor. No, this was to be his dream, his castle, a home that would be his own domain and no other’s, not even his father.
That was, … if he could manage it. If he could convince the lord of the Everfree that he would not be a threat, and that allocating a patch of the forest would not be harmful.
But that plan hung precariously on gaining Hammer Strike’s goodwill, all while maneuvering under Baron Blueblood’s watchful and vicious eye.
“I’ll make you mine yet,” the prince whispered, even as his horn glowed and he began to make adjustments to the model. “My castle on a cloud….”
The cellar was dark and cool, and its walls were lined with shelves carefully organized and labeled with bottles slotted into place for year and vintage. A few candles burned on a serving platter to catch the droplets of wax, their flickering flames casting shadows over the council that awaited in the midst of the light. From out of that shadow, the black Gryphon emerged, nodding to the Pegasus and Thestral that both sat on other parts of the table. A series of diagrams and maps laid over the table’s surface as they scrutinized them.
“So,” Moonshade began the meeting. “How wide do you want the trail? And with the timetable we have set, are we ready with the bridge material?” She looked at Grif. “What are you planning to train the recruits in for the next month and a half?” she asked with a raised eyebrow.
“Weapons training,” Grif answered. “They have enough discipline to get us there. They can think well enough under pressure. They just need to be able to use whatever they plan on defending themselves with.”
“We should run them in cycles,” Pensword said. “Part in weapons training and part in techniques for dealing with clearing the roads. We need to train the Unicorns and Earth Ponies to work together to uproot stumps and level the terrain. Otherwise, we can say goodbye to a proper supply chain.”
“We’ll need to account for larger roads. Those are going to need more people to guard them, so it’s going to spread things out more,” Grif observed.
“And given our limited supply of troops, we’ll need to make sure to keep that widening as strategic as possible to keep the guard parties we post smaller,” Pensword replied.
“You realize with the size of our group, it’s going to take a lot more to go even a short distance, right?” Grif asked.
“Then are you suggesting we take things in stages? Go a certain distance, set up camp, then continue the following day?” Pensword asked.
“That might be our wisest move.” Grif nodded. “If we plan and supply for a longer trip, we’re less likely to run into supply issues.”
“The convoy will still need an escort once we have the path fully cleared as well,” Pensword noted. “Do we have enough Ponies to manage that?”
“I think we do,” Grif said. “The first batch is nearly finished training.”
“And the cadets who aren’t? Will we leave behind some troops to lead them or will they be coming with us to help?”
“They’ll be coming with us. We’ll split them into smaller groups and make sure they’re well supervised.”
“We’ll need to make sure the supervisors are people they won’t try to mutiny against when we’re not watching them,” Pensword mused.
“I think you're getting a little far ahead of yourself,” Grif said, raising an eyebrow.
“Yes. I don’t think mutiny is really a risk at this time,” Moonshade agreed.
“I meant it as a figure of speech,” Pensword clarified. “I was referring to the sort of acts of defiance one might expect the proud upstart to show when those with the higher authority aren’t able to catch them at it. We can’t exactly be everywhere at once, after all.”
“We’ll have to let some things slide until we get to the castle.” Moonshade shrugged.
Pensword sighed. “I suppose there’s no help for it.”
“Can’t micromanage everything.” Grif shrugged.
“I assume we’ll be relying on the Apple family orchard and certain other businesses to supply our caravan? Are plans in place to purchase the necessary materials or do we still need to make those arrangements?”
“I think we have that all in place,” Grif answered.
“Then is there anything else we need to discuss?” Pensword asked.
“Not that I can think of,” Grif commented.
“Moonshade?” Pensword asked.
“I believe we’re finished,” Moonshade said.
Pensword nodded. “Then in that case, meeting adjourned. We’ll catch Hammer Strike up on the specifics when he wakes up.”
In the dreamscape, Luna was wandering, a question in her mind. Each section of the world was broken into sections in the dreamscape. When there is nopony asleep, the doors aren’t there. But down one of the sections, down its dark corridor, a single door stood in the dark. A familiar door, its simple wooden surface with its rectangle design, sinking in then back out. What finished the door was its simple iron handle.
Luna found herself hesitating as she reached out to grip that handle. Finally, with a gulp, she opened the door and stepped back inside.
What greeted her was the interior of what she presumed to be a home familiar to the one dreaming. She was in a living room. A couch sat against the wall with a table before it facing a black rectangle on a wall. A fireplace sat further within the room, though not in use. She couldn’t gauge anything outside the building, since the windows were covered by blinds.
She took some time examining the area before turning to head for the nearest exit to look for Hammer Strike.
Instead of running into Hammer Strike, she ran into his human form. Shawn took a moment to register her presence before giving a brief wave. “Uh … hey.”
“Oh, hello,” she said. “I’m sorry to intrude.”
“Nah, it’s fine,” he dismissed. “Not like I really have much going on anyway.”
“I thought it might be prudent to check on you. You’ve been sleeping for a considerable amount of time,” she noted.
“I did notice that, though I just figured it was one of those days.” He shrugged. “I mean, I thought it’d catch up with me one of these days.” After a moment, he looked over to Luna. “Got anything you want to chat about? Don’t have much else in mind.”
“How have you been? I hope things have been better than the last time we spoke.”
He shrugged once more. “I mean, yeah. They’ve been doing a bit better.” The area around them shifted, and Luna found herself surrounded by machines she had never seen before. The walls and floors were sturdy concrete, while lumber laid off to the side. “How goes progress on the whole … sending us home project?”
“Slow,” she admitted with a sigh. “The issue as we understand it is the way our worlds line up. Our world is next to your world in a clockwise sense, making it far easier to go one way than the other without a stable portal.”
“Sounds about right.” Shawn sighed. “Honestly, I feel at times as though we’re probably not going to be heading back.”
“There is one option,” Luna said, albeit with some reluctance.
“Given your tone, it’s a less savory option, potentially dealing with an individual you don’t like.”
Luna gave another long-suffering sigh. “The problem is rules. And there is someone for whom the stronger rules are in place, the more they become suggestions for him.”
“Discord, then,” Shawn spoke, focusing on Luna. “And history didn’t paint him in a great light.”
“Speaking from experience, history tends to be very biased about what it wants to remember.”
“To be fair, you aren’t painting it better when your natural response was to remark it in a less-than-thrilled tone,” Shawn replied with a faint smirk. “But, I suppose that’s all in your hands. Or, well, hooves. Not like we really have a method ourselves.”
“What do you know about Discord?” Luna asked.
“Beyond the name, I know that he's a being of literal discord and chaos. Not really evil, just … difficult.”
“That's accurate, for as bad as people like to paint him. I should point out he killed exactly negative twenty percent of the population during his reign.”
“While a positive note, it does leave a lot in question on whether he could or would do it or not.”
“It’s a line of thinking that's still being considered. Celestia believes she has a plan to collar him. I … am less hopeful.”
“Always preparing for the worst, huh?” Shawn chuckled. “Gods, that’s a familiar feeling.”
“I had a good teacher,” she said.
“Given you’re both running things, I’d believe it.” He settled his chuckles. “What were they like?”
“He,” Luna clarified. “He was strict, surly but also very caring.”
“A difficult balance, but it sounds like it worked out in the end.”
She nodded. “It did indeed.”
“Given your positive responses about him, I’m sure you have plenty of stories.”
“Yes. Unfortunately, the time isn’t right for telling them.” She smirked.
“Fair enough.” Shawn shrugged before turning towards one of the worktables around. “I suppose turnabout is fair play. Got anything you want to know that I can hopefully answer?”
“I’ve been told your people have explored the heavens in your world?”
“That we have,” Shawn confirmed. “We’ve landed people on the moon, have video and pictures of it as well, and have sent probes into space to send pictures back to us. In fact…” He glanced to the room around them. After a moment of thought, his dream shifted once more to his best recollection of the moon he had seen many times, both in the sky and through plenty of pictures. While it formed around the two of them, he held a look of uncertainty before finally speaking again. “Not perfect, but it’s close enough to what I’ve seen in pictures and videos.”
“Beautiful,” Luna said as she looked upon the visage of the moon. “To see it so close and not be trapped within its power.”
Shawn hummed to himself for a moment. “Right, I read about that,” he muttered before dismissing the thought. “Though I’ve never been up here myself, this is the best I can give you for a visual. I don’t even have the constellations down right. The only thing I can believe to be close enough to be accurate, would be the planet.” He gestured towards Earth.
“It’s much appreciated,” she said, still staring in awe.
“It was quite an accomplishment for our kind.” Shawn smiled as he looked to Earth. “And our technology only became more advanced since then.”
“I hope one day Equestria might reach that point,” Luna said.
“It’s probably only a matter of time.”
Another detonation rang through the air as straw dust puffed outward from the target that had been formed out of a hay bale. In the distance, trees shook with the force of the bucks that Applejack and Big Mac threw into them. Grif approached the target and removed the metal ball from its place about two or three inches from the bullseye, between the second and third rings.
“Good shot,” Pensword complimented as he worked over the mechanisms on his crossbow at a makeshift worktable born of a large wooden crate, courtesy of Big Mac. If he was going to be an expert at firing these things, he was going to know them inside and out. A few bolts stuck out from another hay bale he’d set up as his own target. He didn’t hit the bullseye just yet, but the quarrels were well clustered, indicating a certain amount of capability with consistency.
“Thanks. Just glad I can hit with it now,” Grif said. “How goes the work with the new crossbow?”
Pensword shrugged. “I’m learning how to adjust the sights and reset the mechanisms. It’s not as easy as it looks, but if any other Pony can do it, then so can I.” He finished priming the crossbow and aimed toward the hay bale, pulled the trigger, and watched the quarrel fly. A few moments later, the arrow was embedded in the bullseye. “I guess I got lucky that time.”
“I mean, lucky shots happen.”
“True.” Pensword shrugged. “I still find it strange that I can still load one of these faster than a gun. Well, I can once I get the full hang of handling this with hooves.”
“I mean, historically they could be loaded pretty fast. We just worked out a way to make it faster.”
“And make it automated with easy loading capability,” Pensword added. “Then again, I should be grateful this one is a bolt action. I’m guessing that most craftsponies would kill to get this design. Where did you find it, anyway?”
“Honestly? I worked it out with Storm Hammer.” He shrugged. “Using what I remembered of a bolt action rifle.”
“I’m looking forward to adding it to my skill set. Do you think it’ll strafe well?”
“I couldn’t say.” Grif shrugged. “You're the one who’s gonna be writing the book on it.”
I suppose that’ll be the next step.”
It didn’t take much longer for a certain prismatic blur to dash into the firing zone, albeit slightly higher than where the gun or crossbow may have been pointing at the time.
“Woah!” Pensword shouted. “Rainbow Dash, are you crazy? You could get killed pulling a stunt like that!”
“Stunt like what?” the mare asked.
“You’re in the middle of a firing range!” Pensword gesticulated. “Don’t you have any respect for the rules?”
“You do realize I can dodge just about anything that gets thrown at me, right?” Rainbow asked.
“And you realize that if you want to get into the Wonderbolts, you need to learn to adhere to basic military protocol and common sense,” Pensword shot back. “Especially when you’re dealing with a potential commanding officer. How do you think Spitfire would react if she saw you acting like this?”
“She’d call it good practice?”
“She’d call it reckless,” Pensword said flatly. And if she says otherwise, then she’s not fit to command.”
“Well excuse me for wanting to do you a favor and let you know the princess was in town,” Rainbow said defensively. “Something about wanting to talk with Hammer Strike about something. I figured you’d want to know.”
“Thanks for the message,” Grif said, holstering his weapon.
Pensword glared at Rainbow Dash. “We are not done with this conversation, Miss Dash,” he warned. “But if the princess is here, then that is something that comes first. We will have words at another time, though. And I intend to make sure you’re trained properly in the rules of the range.”
Rainbow Dash rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Anyway, message delivered, so I’m heading back to Ponyville. See you guys later.”
And just like that, she was gone.
“You know, Rainbow Dash can be great as a loyal friend, but I never realized just how annoying and cocky she could get,” Pensword noted.
“Well,” Grif said, spreading his wings,” let’s knock her down a notch, huh?” And with that, he pushed himself off the ground, heading at full speed on a forty five degree angle.
Pensword grabbed his crossbow and quiver of bolts, then rushed to try to catch up with his friend. “Just what are we trying to do here, exactly?” he called after the Gryphon.
Grif didn’t explain as he worked to get to the summit, the raptor part of the Gryphon brain calculating the height needed to reach the necessary velocity. Even as he pushed, he felt lighter as he began to pull away from Pensword. It felt like the air was letting him move through it freely, the resistance lessening greatly. Soon he felt the mental click signaling it was time, and he brought his wings in close, then pointed his beak, falling into a dive with all the force he could muster. He could see the rainbow blur as he did, but focused on nothing else save the end goal. The world blurred around him. The wind whistled past his ears as he achieved a frightening velocity. Just before it was too late, he flared his wings. There was a brief pain as his body jolted and he began to burn off speed. He was worried for a moment that he would crash, but he found control of the momentum a hair’s breadth from things turning terminal. All the same, he landed with heavy force, dropping to his knees to arrest the momentum as best he could just as the Pegasus reached his location.
Rainbow Dash couldn’t help but grin at Grif’s daring. “That. Was. AWESOME!” she cheered. “How did you even manage to stop? I mean, I know Pegasi can pull it off, and Gryphons are no slouches either, but that kind of a dive at that speed? You might just be able to give me a run for my money one day.” Her grin widened. “I’ve been looking for a racing buddy.”
“I have no idea,” Grif answered honestly. “Hurt like hell, though.”
“Well, yeah, your wings aren’t used to that kind of strain yet. It takes time to get used to that kind of pressure. That or you learn how to burn it off by veering off at the right moment.”
“Well I’ll remember that,” he said. “Still beat you,” he teased with a wink.
“I wasn’t flying my fastest.” Dash shrugged. “But I think I might be able to give you a few pointers if you want them later.”
A panting Pensword eventually made it onto the scene. It didn't take him long to regain his breath. “Are you insane, Grif?” he finally managed. “You could have been a splat on the pavement. You should have been! Don’t you ever scare me like that again!”
“... We’ve literally been in the center of a warzone,” Grif said, deadpanning.
“Sacrificing yourself in combat to protect someone is different from dying because you wanted to beat someone else in a race,” Pensword pointed out.
“Calm down, Pensword,” Grif said. “No one got hurt. Pretty sure Dash has had worse crashes than that would have been.”
“And do Gryphons have the same anatomy?”
“Pensword, he’s fine. He didn’t break his wings, and he made it safely to the ground. That’s what matters. He can handle it,” Rainbow Dash said.
Pensword scowled and sputtered, muttering darkly under his breath.
“Anyway, if you want to catch Celestia, you can probably either find her in the town hall or with Twilight at the library. So, … maybe split up?” Rainbow Dash offered.
Grif nodded. “Thanks for delivering the message.”
Pensword sighed and shook his head. “Can you at least promise me to be a little more careful next time? Then I’ll go to Twilight’s and you can take town hall,” he promised.
“Fine.” Grif shrugged. “See you soon.” He turned towards town hall.
Pensword nodded and turned to Rainbow. “Miss Dash,” he said by way of farewell. Then he began to trot toward the great tree that functioned as library, house, and a living organism all in one.
Grif took a deep breath before he moved into town hall. Fortunately, the building wasn’t huge, as Ponyville was still relatively small. This meant he was able to find his way to the mayor's reception area without too much difficulty. He gave a light knock before entering.
The secretary started briefly in her chair, then smiled as the black Gryphon approached. “Ah, Sir Grif. I was just about to send a formal request on the mayor’s behalf. This certainly saves me the trouble. Mayor Mare was hoping to take a few minutes of your time to discuss certain matters regarding the future of Ponyville. I take it you’re also here to meet with her on some business?”
“Oh? Well that's fortunate timing. I was just checking if Princess Celestia was here?”
“Princess Celestia? Is she supposed to be? We weren’t informed! Oh, dear. Oh, dear. We’re not ready to entertain royalty,” the mare fretted, wringing her hooves as the clouds of her fears gathered.
“It really didn’t sound like this was an official visit,” Grif said. “So you can probably calm down.”
“You’ve been here long enough to see what happens on a regular basis with normal trouble. Can you imagine how the town will respond when it finds out we have a royal staying here? Again?”
“Then don’t tell them.” Grif shrugged.
“I at least have to tell the mayor. Oh, and has Lord Hammer Strike been informed?”
“I believe he is currently sleeping. As that’s a rare thing, we won’t be waking him.”
“... You’re telling me he doesn’t sleep?”
“I’m saying we should allow him the opportunity to catch up on sleep he may or may not have missed.”
The two stared at one another for a time, neither one blinking. Finally, the receptionist broke the contact and nodded. “I’ll … let the mayor know you’re here.”
The mayor’s office was a functional space, designed more for the purpose of executing the duties of the job than anything else. Her white and gray-streaked mane flowed behind her as she peered through her glasses at the Gryphon. “Thank you for coming, Grif,” she greeted. “May I offer you a chair?”
“I think I’m fine, thanks,” Grif said. “I understand you were about to ask to see me?”
She nodded. “Yes. It has to do with your plans for the coming spring. It’s my understanding that you plan to begin an expedition into the Everfree around that time, and that you also intend to bring the Ponies you’ve been training at that base you constructed with you. Is this true?”
“That is the current plan, yes.” Grif nodded. “Though we are planning to eventually have a few set here to protect the town.”
“And what is to become of the compound you’ve constructed?”
“Well, we assumed the town would appreciate having it intact, but we don’t have solid plans just yet.”
“It is something we hope will remain after you finish with it,” the mayor agreed. “But there are certain possibilities members of the town planning board see for the facility after Lord Hammer Strike finishes with it. This is why I ask.”
“Just remember the barracks will need to stay as they are for whoever we station here.”
“Then it’s to be a permanent installation?”
“Semi-permanent,” Grif corrected. “Lets face it; you guys need some protection from the forest at the least.”
“I won’t object to escorts and other means of protection for our young. Some foals like to visit Zecora in the woods. And while they know the safe path, I wouldn’t be surprised if Zecora somehow developed a means to make the path safe in the first place, rather than it being inherently so.”
“True.” Grif nodded. “Still, we need to confer with Twilight before we make solid plans.”
The mayor cocked her head. “With Miss Sparkle? Why?”
“Last I checked, Ponyville is within her dutchy,” Grif pointed out. “She is your landed noble,” Grif noted. “We also would need Applejack there as well.”
“Applejack?”
“The Apple farm may be part of Ponyville, but the land was given to them by Celestia, was it not?” Grif pointed out. “A head crowned cannot just give away land. It simply isn’t done.”
Mayor Mare frowned. “You know, … you do have a point. I wonder why that’s never come up before.”
“Have you ever known the Apples to put on airs?”
“Well, no, except where their own skills are concerned. They’re very proud of what they can do.”
Grif nodded. “I imagine they wouldn’t throw their weight around unless they were desperate,” Grif said. “You probably should ignore them when tax season comes out, though.”
“I’ll … keep that in mind,” Mayor Mare replied.
“So then, is there anything else you need from me?”
“I don’t think so. That was the main concern that I wanted to raise. Was there anything that I could do to be of assistance to you and Lord Hammer Strike?”
“At this moment? I don’t think so, but I'll let you know if something comes up.”
“In that case, give my best to Lord Hammer Strike, won’t you? You three really have livened up this little town. And I think the changes you’ve made have certainly been for the better.”
Grif gave a smile and a nod of the head before turning to leave. “I’ll make sure to send Princess Celestia your regards when I see her at the library.”
“Wait, WHAT?”
The sight of Celestia’s golden carriage was a dead giveaway to her presence in town. That, and the fact that there was a small crowd of onlookers murmuring while the guards who had drawn the carriage looked implaccably at the mares and colts. Pensword flew over the crowd and alighted next to the carriage, nodding to each of the guards in turn. “I assume the princess is inside?” he asked them.
The guards nodded.
“Excellent. I’m told she wished to see Lord Hammer Strike. He is indisposed at the moment. I’ve come to meet her in his stead until he is available.”
“Right this way, Sir,” the guard said.
Pensword opened the door and strode into the library proper. The air was rich with the scent of fresh herbal tea as the delicate clink of a stirring spoon in a teacup drew the stallion’s attention toward the great white Alicorn preparing to drink. A pot sat on a tray with another cup that doubtless was reserved for Twilight.
“Pensword, it’s good to see you again,” Celestia said with a kindly smile.
“Princess,” Pensword greeted. “I was informed of your arrival and made my way to receive you.”
“You don’t need to be so formal, Pensword,” Celestia replied.
“I do when the visit is official. And from what Rainbow Dash told us, it sounds like this one is. That, and you have guards waiting outside with your carriage.”
“I do have some things I need to discuss with Shawn when he’s available,” Celestia admitted. “But for now, I’m simply having a casual conversation with my student. Or rather, I will once she gets back from the kitchen. You know how dedicated she is about making things just right.”
“The perfect cake?” Pensword guessed.
Celestia smiled. “It’s my eternal quest.” She chuckled. “Please, take a seat. I’m sure Twilight will be happy to see you, too.”
“I hope so. Though now that I see you, a thought does come to mind. Recently, we had occasion to be contacted by a certain member in the noble courts. Grif’s response was … blunt, to say the least. The more accurate term would probably be provocative in the extreme.”
“Yes, I know.” Celestia nodded. “Prince Blueblood had occasion to speak with me about it at some length in a letter. He was less than pleased, but has no intention of holding grudges against you at this time. There’s too much risk. About the only thing that’s kept the other houses from sweeping in to try to take out House Blueblood is Prince Blueblood’s close relationship with me and the will of his father to do whatever it takes. Were I to withdraw that support, it’s very likely that the entire line would fall into ruin.”
“Then why don’t you?” Pensword asked.
“Because then it would mean a private war between the noble houses of the kingdom in a time when I am trying to unite and restore our collective strength. That, and their ancestor was someone who we respected greatly as a dear friend. I don’t want to dishonor that name.”
“Should we expect covert retaliation?”
Celestia sipped her tea and pondered the question. “It’s not beyond the realm of possibility,” she admitted. “Prince Blueblood isn’t the kind to do so, save perhaps from a financial standpoint. He may not be the most competent in other fields, but when it comes to numbers, he’s very clever. Baron Blueblood, on the other hoof, is someone to watch out for. He’s very devious, and he takes great pleasure in outmaneuvering his enemies. I said that the other houses could rally to take him down. I never said it would be easy for them. Nor will it be easy for you if you are ever of a mind to do so.”
“You know we don’t want to get involved in that sort of thing, Your Highness.”
“You may not end up having a choice, Pensword,” Celestia warned. “Sometimes, there are forces beyond anyone’s control at work, and they lead you toward a certain outcome, whether you want it or not.”
Pensword narrowed his gaze in suspicion. “Just what do you mean, Princess?”
At that moment, Twilight entered through the kitchen door with a platter laden with cake slices. Spike followed after her, a tiny flour and batter-splotched apron still draping over his front.
“Sorry to keep you waiting, Princess Celestia. Here are the cakes.” The mare beamed, then noticed the Pegasus. “Oh, hi, Pensword!” She waved with a free hoof as she levitated the platter over.
Spike waved his greetings and smiled as well while the platter was lowered.
“So, what brings you to the library?” Twilight asked.
“A certain blue mare told me about the princess coming for a visit. Since we’re commissioned by her to help train recruits and cadets that would otherwise wash out of the guard, it’s only right to visit her.” Pensword shrugged his wings. “I did wonder if you had any books on protocols for the noble houses, though. Etiquette, rules of engagement, modes of communication, that sort of thing. Grif probably won’t bother trying to apply it, but at least one of us here needs to know how to do things the established way should the need arise, and I don’t want to borrow Hammer Strike’s copy.”
“I think I might have something along those lines, though it’s probably a bit out of date. Golden Oaks doesn’t have much use for books on royal etiquette and association. Though if you really wanted a full education, you could always ask Rarity. She makes it a priority to study as much as she can about the upper classes.”
Pensword shuddered. “I’ll … take my chances with the book. Rarity is a very nice mare. But when she gets in one of her designing moods…. Let’s just say I don’t relish the idea of being one of her models at the moment.”
“I don’t mind,” Spike said quickly, even as little hearts seemed to pulse in his eyes.
Celestia smiled indulgently. “You really are a very good friend to her, aren’t you, Spike?”
“Well, what do you expect from Twilight’s number one assistant?” Spike asked, even as a blush rose at his cheeks; a remarkable feat, considering they were covered in scales.
Twilight easily levitated some more saucers and cups from the kitchen to make up for the extra guest, then poured some tea. When the group had settled properly, and Spike had gotten one of his gems as a treat to enjoy with his drink, they were able to get to more casual discussion.
“So, Pensword, how are our new friends at the inn adjusting?” Twilight asked.
“Fairly well, actually,” Pensword said. “It seems that their independence has given them a better perspective on the differences between right and wrong. They’re keen learners, and they’re determined to adapt to their new circumstances.”
“And do they have enough of the treats my sister left for them last time?” Celestia asked.
Pensword nodded. “They’ve been doing very well. I don’t know how they would feel about meeting you, Princess, but since you’ll be coming by the inn anyway, perhaps we can kill two birds with one stone.”
“I’d like that.”
“And will you be staying with us long, Princess?” Pensword asked.
“Yes.” Celestia smiled. “I plan to spend the upcoming holiday with Twilight to ring in the new year.”
“Are you sure you can afford to be away from the capitol for that long?” Pensword asked.
“I have enough allies there to keep me informed. And most of the houses know better than to let themselves go beyond certain bounds while I’m away. Especially since Luna is going to set things in order before joining me. She’s less lenient than I am, and I anticipate her choices to invest authority will have similar views. I believe the nobles will find it refreshing.” Her smile curved to the point where one could almost call it a smirk. “She’ll be here after she finishes with those appointments and raises the moon.”
Inwardly, Pensword shuddered. ‘Once a troll, always a troll,’ he thought.
Celestia raised her cup. “To the new year and the future. May it remain bright with promise and adventure.”
Twilight and Spike both raised their cups with her. “Hear hear!”
“Now who wants some cake?” Spike asked.
The air was cold, but at least the winds were kept under control as two Ponies wandered along the borders of the Everfree. The one peered intently along the paths, searching for signs of disturbance, even as her horn glowed a dark green. Her companion, a Pegasus stallion, peered intently at their surroundings, forever alert for any signs of potential danger, even as he hovered around the mare.
“This is very dangerous. I still think we should have left a note at least,” the Pegasus insisted nervously. “Our … friends have been fair and kind. Would this not put the relationships that have formed in jeopardy?”
“For now, we are simply gathering information for them, Mutatio,” the mare said. “If we can collect information, then they need not put their own in danger.”
“But should we not have offered before leaving?” Mutatio countered. “We are not of the hive anymore, but should we not respect the chain of command?”
“Possibly. But we are already here, are we not?”
“Yes, I suppose,” Mutatio buzzed nervously. “If the worst were to happen, at least I can protect you.”
“You're sweet, but I think you’d find the situation reversed.” She chuckled.
Mutatio shook his head stubbornly. “You are a queen now. You are hope for a better future. And I will protect that future.”
“But I was a praetorian. In a fight, I may be deadlier than you.”
“And our mother was a queen. Look what happened to her.”
“Our mother enslaved us all,” Me-Me spat. “Trust me.”
“I was referring to the fact her power was defeated, not to her methods.”
“That is a fair point.”
“I have discovered I am capable of making many. It is … a strange skill, but a useful one. The human who severed my connection to the hive made many such points in his discussions with his friend. I learned by observation.”
“You may have hidden talents as a diplomat.” Me-Me smiled.
Mutatio cocked his head. “We are emotivores. Don’t we all share such natural capability?”
“Not really. Many of us only know how to fight,” she pointed out. “Mother suppressed the idea of natural talents, remember?”
“Well, Changelings don’t have cutie marks. So I don’t believe that the idea of talents seemed … necessary. A hive has its designations, and that is all. Ideally, it is all that is needed. Our mother seems to have taken that to an extreme, however.”
“But that prevents the possibility of improvements. We can’t find ways to make better drones without some allowance for variance.”
“Then, … you wish to change the hive?”
“Change is survival. It’s in our very name.”
“I suppose I cannot disagree with your reasoning,” Mutatio agreed as they continued. “If I may ask, why are we remaining outside the boundaries of the forest if we are supposed to be gathering information for what lies ahead?”
“We’re simply keeping to the edge for now to get an idea of the layout,” she explained.
“And what have you found so far?”
“There’s something nearby beneath the ground,” she noted.
“Is it dangerous?”
“Not sure why it would be.”
“It is the Everfree Forest. From what our friends have told us, it is one of the most dangerous locations in all of Equestria.”
“True,” she admitted. “Though not much is said of what's beneath it.” She led him on.
“And you believe we should explore these tunnels?”
“We need to consider our own future here,” she said. “Our future hive.”
“Our?” A buzz of surprise escaped the otherwise perfect disguise at the implication of those words, though Mutatio quickly regained his composure.
“Did you intend to go to a different hive?” she asked. “The way I see it, our destinies are tied, you and I.”
Mutatio was silent for a time as he pondered that statement. “And where would that leave the two of us?” he asked uncertainly. “Would we be … harmonious in the song of this new hive?”
“Would you want that?” she asked him.
“I am … wary,” he admitted. “I have only known the song for so long. And then it was gone. But … I learned to be me, to be a singular entity, to find out what I desire, what I enjoy, what I[i/i] wish to do. You have also found your freedom. What if … what if we are not … compatible?”
“We’re both Changelings,” she said. “And why should you lose any of what makes you you? I want our hive to be a hive of connected individuals. I want all to be able to understand the hive is not a binding of slavery, but a connection that makes us strong.”
“Will that be … possible? Can such a hive really exist and not fall into chaos?”
“How do Ponies exist and not fall into chaos? We, with our perfect order under Mother have accomplished what? We lived in tight squalid tunnels while ponies built sprawling cities on mountains and in clouds. What superiority has a hive of perfect order given our species?”
“And if I do not find the link … complementary, … you will allow me the opportunity to leave it?”
“Of course.” She smiled as she leaned in and nuzzled him.
A heavy blush showed in mutatio’s cheeks as his wings flapped wide open. “Oh, my.” He blinked in an attempt to dispel his surprise while working to regain control.
“And I'm not looking for you to join as an average drone,” she added.
“Well, … to start a hive, you would need something more than an average drone, regardless,” Mutatio agreed. He cleared his throat. “If I may, … I would like to start just with the connection. We can look at the caves while we adapt to this new hive network. Is this a suitable compromise?”
“Of course.” She smiled at him. Slowly, she reached out and probed him gently to try and establish a connection.
Mutatio shuddered at the familiar sensation of a probing mind. However, unlike the connection he had always shared with Chrysalis, this one did not have the pressure that had so tightly kept him in check. Then again, in that role, there was no chance for growth or knowledge outside of his duties, so there was no measurement to stand against. It was not entirely unpleasant. It felt … hollow to an extent. Where many had been, there was now only two threads trying to bind so that they could resonate together. Whether they could sing, he would have to find out. He followed the tendril of thought back to Me-Me, his own probe trembling in anticipation of what was to come.
It connected without any resistance as a beautiful cadence played back to him laden with affection and warmth. She opened herself to him with no limitations and no walls, he was open to see all that she was. And she was much. Unlike the queen mother who had restrained and hidden much, constantly enforcing her will with the power of the hive connection, Me-Me bore her whole self, her insecurities, her faults, her hopes, her desires, and, most importantly, her intent. There was admiration for adaptation, and … a sense of gratitude as well, for helping her to navigate the troubled waters of being severed from the hive. The sensation of her thoughts were strangely euphoric after such a long and empty silence. And like the great prelude of an orchestra, his own thought began to resonate with a low hum to complement the subtle melody that was both invitation and plea.
Mutatio breathed heavily as warmth surged through his mind and his chest. “I … had almost forgotten how it felt….”
“Are you okay? Are you calm?” Me-Me asked.
Mutatio nodded. “I am fine. And you?”
“I am pleased.” She smiled. “This feels right.”
Mutatio gave a wry smile. “We are Changelings. Of course it is right to share a hive connection. I am only grateful that ours is compatible.”
“Come. Let’s take a look at our future hive then.”
Mutatio gave a gentle bow. “As my queen commands.”
She gave him a smile and a bow before turning to push forward toward the nearest tunnel entrance.
“Wanna run that by me again?” Grif asked a frantic-looking Pensword.
“Me-Me and Mutatio aren’t at the inn. They aren’t anywhere around town. I’ve looked high and low for them and asked about any new arrivals just to be on the safe side. Nobody seems to have seen anything. I saw Princess Celestia. And apparently, Princess Luna is going to be arriving later tonight. With the ground I’ve covered, it’s safe to say they probably went exploring outside the town’s bounds. The way I see it, there are a few possibilities. Either the Whitetail Woods, Sweet Apple Acres, or, and I’m really hoping it’s not this one, the border along the Everfree.”
“It’s the Everfree,” Grif groaned.
“What makes you so sure?” Pensword asked.
“It’s Ponyville. You can’t swing a stick at a problem and not have it connected to the forest.”
“Aren’t more than half the episodes not forest related?” Pensword countered.
“Trust me.”
Pensword sighed. “I suppose it’s as good a place to start as any.”
“Good. And when we do find them, they’d better have gotten trapped by some sort of large predator. Because if we find them and Mutatio isn’t fighting off some large feline with a crudely made wooden spear, …. he’s gonna be,” Grif growled as he scanned the ground.
“Just promise me that if we do encounter any dangerous creatures, we go in with a plan, not by the seat of our nonexistent pants,” Pensword insisted.
“I already have a plan for winning,” Grif snickered as he spread his wings.
“Oh? And what’s that?”
“Don’t lose,” the Gryphon said before turning and flying off.
Pensword facehoofed, shook his head, then took off after the Gryphon. “Wait up!”
It didn’t take long for the pair to reach the edges of the dread forest in question. Grif let his eyes scan the ground as his mind considered the possible options. A quick redaction threw the worst of them away. Nothing good came from worrying about those possibilities. In due course, his predator’s gaze halted on something that drew his attention. “Over here!” he shouted.
Pensword was soon at the Gryphon’s side, even as the sun continued to descend. Afternoon was rapidly fading into evening, which meant they were running out of time. “What did you find?” he asked. “Please tell me it’s good news. I really don’t want to be stuck out here when the moon comes up.”
“Timberwolves should be hunting soon.” Grif nodded. He pointed to a hole. “Looks like a cave system. Seems like it’s had some activity recently.”
“How can you tell?” Pensword asked.
“A few markings here or there. Scuffs in the gravel, things like that.”
“I suppose I should trust the eagle vision. Do they look like Pony tracks?” Pensword asked.
“Somewhat. Not great, considering the ground is solid rock a few feet in.”
“Ideal for avoiding leaving a trace,” Pensword mused and frowned. “I suppose we should be ready for a fight, just in case.”
“Honestly, in there? That seems like basic advice.”
Pensword nodded as they alighted at the tunnel entrance. “Any chance you can track their scent?”
“Yeah.” Grif nodded. “Follow me, and be ready. Who knows what lives here?”
The two passed cautiously through the cave. Grif’s talons clacked softly while Pensword’s hooves clopped and reverberated the deeper they went. “Do you think there’s any chance that this might come out near the Castle of the Two Sisters?” Pensword asked his friend.
“A cave system like this? It’s entirely possible.”
“Are you seeing any light?” Pensword asked.
“Part feline. I don’t need much.”
“I meant other than the natural light outside,” Pensword said. “If our friends are down here, they may be using their horns to light the way, or something else. They can make bioluminescent substances, after all.”
“Ah, nothing like that yet.”
Pensword nodded. “Then I’ll trust in your sense of smell to guide us.”
Grif nodded, leading them further inwards. It took almost half an hour before they finally saw familiar unnatural light in the distance.
“Grif, am I the only one seeing green right now?” Pensword asked.
“No, it's very much there. I’d say be ready for anything.”
Pensword nodded. “Make sure you verify before attacking. I hope it’s our friends, but if it turns out Chrysalis has infiltrated this cave system….”
The ground gradually took on a gentle slope that became steadily steeper as the two progressed. Eventually, they had no choice but to take wing as the once-flat passage dropped into a sharper and sharper angle. It was a very neat trap for any who might be trying to invade, particularly given the slippery nature of the secretions that had coated the cave floor.
“Well, that’s one way to deal with the timberwolves,” Pensword said.
“That makes sense, yeah.” Grun nodded.
Eventually, they came to the cavernous depths where the slope ended and fell into darkness. The chamber pulsed with green light as an ichor-like membraned webbing climbed over the pores of the rocks to frame passageways and act as a natural barrier. From time to time, the netting would part, then close shut again at random intervals, much like the bulb of a Venus Fly Trap.
“Effective, but … also disturbing,” Pensword noted as he watched the structures at work.
“Well, either a hive snuck in while we weren’t watching or we know where our changelings are,” Grif noted.
“Think we should shout for them?”
“Not a bad plan,” Grif said. “You do the honors?”
“Well, I have been practicing on the parade grounds.” Pensword took a deep breath, then let it rip. “Mutatio! Me-Me! Where are you?”
“Pensword? Is that you?” Me-Me’s voice echoed from every chamber. There was no way to tell which corridor was the source.
“Yes! I’m here with Grif! Can one of you come get us, please? We’d rather not get lost looking for you or fall into one of your traps if you’ve set any up!”
It was about fifteen minutes before Me-Me flew in to greet them. “Hello, my friends.”
Pensword stared in disbelief at the queen. “It took you fifteen minutes to get to us…. Just how big is this cave system?”
“It appears to be massive,” MeMe said. “We’ve tracked it all the way to the palace.”
“Canterlot?” Pensword gaped at her.
“No, the other palace,” Meme confirmed.
“Oh, you mean the castle.” Pensword frowned. “I’m guessing there’s no easy route to take through these caves that our troops can use instead of going aboveground?”
“The issue isn’t so much the route but the exit, in the sense there isn’t one as of yet,” Me-Me explained.
“Then how do you know it comes out at the Castle of the Two Sisters?” Pensword asked. “And while I’m at it, where’s Mutatio?”
“He is inspecting some of the side tunnels,” she said. “And we know because of magic.”
“And I take it you were planning to make these caves your hive?” Pensword surmised.
“Of course. They're perfect for it.”
“And you didn’t think to talk with Hammer Strike about it first?”
“Was he planning on using this cave system?”
“He didn’t even know about these in the first place. And besides that, wouldn't it be wiser to tell the one in authority that you’re planning to build your own hive right under a Pony settlement? Particularly since some of those Ponies go spelunking to mine for gems and minerals?”
“We’ve checked the area thoroughly. There are not any gem deposits currently in the area. At least the parts that we’ve claimed. Possibly, more will form in the future, but not at this time.”
Pensword sighed wearily. It was clear that Me-Me was going to do whatever she could to keep this space. “Couldn’t you at least have left us a note?”
“We didn’t know about the caves before we left.”
“I meant to tell us where you were going. Grif and I found you on a lucky guess. If you’d been hurt, or worse, found by Chrysalis, we wouldn’t have been able to help you, because we would have had no idea where you might have gone. We can’t communicate the way you do with other Changelings. I know you meant well, but please, let us know next time.”
“Oh, Mother is nowhere near here at this time.” Me-Me shook her head. “But I understand your point.”
“I’m glad you do.” Pensword sighed. “You’re just lucky Hammer Strike wasn’t awake to find out about this. Can you imagine what his reaction would have been?”
“Probably not as strong as you think.” Grif shrugged.
“At the very least, we’re going to have to tell him about this place. Speaking of which, are you and Mutatio okay with coming back to the tavern to tell him or are you still … housekeeping?” Pensword asked Me-Me.
“We are still shaping things here, yes.”
Pensword sighed and shook his head. “I suppose we’ll let Hammer Strike know and have him deal with this headache. We’ll have to tell Princess Luna, too. You know she’ll be interested in this.”
“She is welcome to come inspect it if she feels the need.”
“And will you also show it to Hammer Strike?”
“Of course.” she nodded. “Why would we not?”
Pensword sighed. “All right. So, is there any chance one of you can lead us back to town again?”
“I’m sure Mutatio can guide you back when he gets here.”
“I thought you said he was busy.”
“He finished his work recently and is on his way.”
“And are there any other shocking developments you need to tell us about before we make our way back to Ponyville to report?”
“None that come to mind at this time.”
Pensword nodded. “Then I suppose we’ll return with friends later. Is there a safe entrance you want us to use next time?”
“We’ll have one ready by the time you return.”
Pensword nodded. “Then I guess the next stop is the library.”
The night sky was cool and clear as they flew above the tree boughs and back into familiar, and more importantly weather-controlled territory. Both friends knew only too well the importance of what was underway. And though they wanted to tell Shawn or Hammer Strike, whichever form he might have taken, they also needed to involve at least one of the two rulers of the kingdom. The light coming from the tree was warm and inviting, and the two soon found themselves basking in that warmth as it leached away the last tendrils of chill from the outdoors trying to sink in.
Princess Luna’s blue mane waved and shone with the light of the night sky and the sparkling of the stars. Her silvery horseshoes shone brightly and bore the crescents that were the symbol of her namesake. Celestia drank from a teacup while Luna drank from a silver flask. Spike was nowhere to be seen, quite possibly having been sent to bed while the older Ponies talked.
“Your Highnesses,” Pensword greeted the diarchs.
“Pensword. We weren’t expecting to see you so soon after your last visit. Is Hammer Strike awake yet?” Celestia asked.
“To our knowledge, no,” Pensword said. “We were out on an errand of sorts and came across something that needs to be brought to your sister’s attention concerning certain mutual charges.”
“Oh and what would that be?” Luna asked.
“It seems Me-Me and Mutatio have found a place they would like to call home. They’ve begun to build a hive there.”
“I see…” Luna looked thoughtful as she considered it. “Well then, I suppose I will have to indeed look into that personally,” she agreed.
“Respectfully, I think it should only be you, Princess Luna. Princess Celestia draws too much attention when she travels. Half of Ponyville was circling the library when I came by earlier.”
Celestia sighed. “You do have a point,” she admitted. “And my presence could easily act as a smoke screen against any spies that might be lurking. Though I doubt that many nobles would feel the expenditure of resources would be justified for maintaining such a watch here in Ponyville just yet.”
“You overestimate them, Sister,” Luna said. “It’s less a case of they haven’t tried and more a case that they haven’t thought it through. That is to say, they sent spies, but they would come back with disappointing news, I think.”
“I suppose Miss Pie’s unique capabilities would be helpful in that regard,” Pensword mused. “She always seems to know when someone new arrives.”
Luna nodded. “I don’t doubt the nobility will figure out a way to plant their moles, but it will be a long-term operation, not short simple stints of information gathering.”
“The more important thing to consider, however, is whether you feel comfortable with a new Changeling hive being built on Ponyville’s borders here in Equestria. While Hammer Strike and Shawn are technically the ones who are overseeing these lands for now, the authority is still technically yours regarding whether you would be willing to allow a colony to be established. And Me-Me is definitely making plans in that direction.”
“Then I will check on it when I have time.”
“Just be sure to let them know when you get there. The place is trapped, and it would probably be good to have a guide,” Griff noted.
“We will, of course, make sure to take that into account,” Celestia agreed. “But my sister has her ways of bypassing such things if necessary.” She smiled at Luna. “Our greatest mentor taught us that sometimes when there isn’t a key, you have to make your own.”
Pensword chuckled nervously. “Let’s … hope this isn’t one of those times.”
“Was there anything else you needed to relay to us?” Celestia asked.
“Not at the moment,” Grif said. “But give it time. It’s Ponyville.”
“Hey,” Twilight objected. “Ponyville’s not that bad.”
Pensword sighed. “Did she just…?” he asked of his friend.
“Welp, now we need to go increase patrols,” Grif said, turning for the door.
“If you’ll excuse us,” Pensword said by way of farewell. “Goodnight, Your Highnesses, Twilight.”
As the door closed behind them, Twilight reasserted her claim once more. “I’m certain they’re overreacting. Everything is going to be fine. I mean, with the both of you here, what’s the worst that could happen?”
The world was dead. Or perhaps it’s better to say that the occupant was dead to the world. But all such states must eventually break, either in true death or in waking once more. For Shawn, it was the latter. The human blinked slowly and groggily as the familiar sensation of rousing from the sleep of the dead led him back into the usual routine of wiping sleep from his eyes and raising himself up to greet the new day. Or in this case, night, as he looked to behold the silvery beams shining through his window to light up the room. To his surprise, he discovered he’d fallen asleep still wearing his clothing, including the long blue coat that seemed to have become a staple of his attire. The material was wrinkled and rumpled, but at least it was still intact.
With an exertion of will, he righted himself and turned his body aside to land his feet on the floor. After taking a few more steadying breaths, he rose to his feet and allowed himself to adjust to the sudden change in orientation.Then he removed his coat and hung it on a chair next to the desk he had claimed as his own. A careful scrutiny of the surface soon assured him that the space hadn’t been disturbed, and he sighed in relief.
There was a light knock on the door. “Uh Hammer Strike, are you up? I heard movement.”
“Yeah,” Shawn sighed. “Well, the other one is, I guess.”
“Oh, Shawn, then,” Grif said. “Am I good to come in?”
“Yeah,” he confirmed. “How long was I out? I’m honestly not feeling too great.”
Grif nodded as he walked in. “Twenty-four hours, twenty-nine minutes, give or take.” He shrugged. “You gonna be ok?”
“Yeah, I’ll be fine.” Shawn gave a dismissive wave. “I miss anything important while I was out?”
“Not much. Some shooting range time, letter from Blueblood, meeting with the mayor, and a visit from the princesses. Oh, and you may also have your own changeling hive starting up, though Pensword’s still waiting on the princesses to approve it, since Equestria is technically still their territory.”
“Great…” Shawn sighed. “What did Blueblood want?”
“He sent a letter low-key demanding you send his people back, trying to sound like he respects you while also trying to intimidate you. I sent back an … appropriate response.” Grif handed him a paper. “Made you a copy.”
“Joy,” Shawn muttered as he took hold of the parchment and started to read it. After a few moments, he glanced at Grif. “How do you even come up with this many titles? Was it just to challenge his?”
Grif shrugged. “Seemed like the only way to make the point.”
“Fair enough. Not like I planned on sending them back anyway. I could see how he’s treated them, given they seem to never take breaks and need to be ordered to do so. I feel bad for the ones that replaced them.” Shawn sighed and rubbed at his temples.
“Well, we can only help so many,” Grif sighed.
“Indeed.” Shawn placed the letter down on his desk. “So, what was that about a Changeling hive?”
“Me-Me and Mutatio seemed to have found some empty caves near our destination, and they’ve started to build.”
Shawn stared at him blankly for a few seconds before sitting down on his chair. “Just … what are we dealing with? One day everything’s normal, and now we’ve got alternate forms, I’m a Lord, we have a small army at our call at this point. It just feels like we’re getting in over our heads, and yet we keep rising to the occasion.”
“Yeah,” Grif sighed. “And doesn’t seem likely to stop soon.”
Shawn rubbed at his forehead. “Yeah….”
“Could be worse,” Grif shrugged. “Could be boring.”
A wry smile crossed Shawn’s face. “Are you suggesting we should hope to ‘live in interesting times,’ too?”
“No. I’m simply saying I’d rather be in our current situation than bored.”
Shawn chuckled. “Careful, Grif. Your feline side is showing.”
Grif chuckled. “Maybe, but can you blame me?”
“No, I suppose I can’t.” He shook his head. “All right, anything else of importance to note?”
“We also have a mining company and a logging company set up, paperwork’s pending on a quarry.”
“I think I remember reading a report involving those,” Shawn hummed in thought. “I’ll double check for it later. In any case, I suppose I should look into getting some work done.”
“Yes, that makes sense.” Grif nodded.
A knock sounded at the door. “Grif? Is he awake yet?” Pensword called.
“Yeah, I’m up,” Shawn spoke up in response.
“Might as well get in here,” Grif said.
Pensword strode in and breathed a sigh of relief. “Glad you didn’t fall into another coma. I was starting to worry.”
“Sorry about that.” Shawn rubbed the back of his head.
Pensword sighed. “I guess I’ll get used to it eventually. Just have to figure out how long you usually take,” he muttered that last part to himself. “Has Grif caught you up on everything?”
“Yeah.”
“So you know that we’re probably going to have to deal with some sort of more direct delegation from the nobles soon,” Pensword said. “What do you want to do about it?”
“That, … is a good question. I’ll probably have to come up with more appropriate responses in line with how things operate here.” Shawn sighed.
“Well then, I know I won't have to worry about it,” Grif laughed.
“I’m sure I’ll figure something out for you. Don’t you worry about that.” Shawn smirked.
“Just what are you thinking, Shawn?” Pensword asked.
“I suppose I do need an entourage for such cases,” he hummed in thought.
“That probably is expected, isn’t it?” Pensword mused as he rubbed his chin in thought.
“Clearly, you two will be a part of it, but I’m unsure of anyone else.”
“Well, if you want to be on the safe side, you could always take Rarity. She’s been studying nobility for a long time, so she’s probably one of the best resources you can ask locally. And then you know you have someone you can trust, too,” Pensword suggested.
Shawn gave a small nod. “That could work, yeah.”
“And I assume a uniform of some sort is in order, too.”
Shawn shrugged. “You know I don’t really care about all that, but I trust you two to figure out the right way for you.”
“Honestly, I think we need to consider a flexible situation there,” Grif said.
“Care to elaborate?” Shawn asked.
“We need to consider non-standard kits for groups and such.”
“Sort of like how Boy Scouts had different patches for their uniforms to differentiate the patrols?” Pensword asked.
“Yes, but a little more distinctive than that, I think. It’s best we work on distinctive armor designs for our individual groups.”
“You know, it’s funny you should mention that,” Shawn said as he drifted toward his desk. “I’ve been working on a few designs. Care to take a look?”
“Maybe after we finish ironing out a few more details? I think it’s safe to say we all know Blueblood well enough to know he’s not going to give up. Do we want to have the nobles coming here to Ponyville or do we want to go to Canterlot?” Pensword asked.
“I don’t want to torture this town,” Shawn said.
Pensword nodded. “Canterlot, then. And we can stop at Joe’s after for donuts.”
“I’ll treat you if we can keep Prince Blueblood from coming to Ponyville,” Shawn said. “How does a dozen sound? Or twelve dozen?”
“You just want to spend the bits, don’t you?” Grif asked.
“I’ve still got over half a bloody chest full!” Shawn gesticulated spitefully at the chest in question. “I need to get rid of it somehow, and I’ve run out of things to buy that have use.”
Pensword raised a brow in surprise. “After everything we’ve been investing into the town?”
Shawn let out a helpless chuckle. “Please, open the chest, and try to tell me there isn’t that much in it.”
Pensword followed the request and whistled at the sight of the gold pieces glittering. He could almost hear the triumphant chorus in the background as his ears twitched. “You’re right. It really does look pretty full. Did they put some kind of spell on it or something?” he asked. “Some sort of space-saving charm?”
Shawn yawned and shrugged. “Iunno. If you both want money to spend, take some. I don’t need it for the most part.”
“I’m making expenses.” Grif shrugged. “Still, guess I know where to go if I ever need a loan.”
Pensword nodded. “It seems the princesses decided to gift us with a certain amount of recompense for the work we’re performing with the cadets as well. I’m thinking of opening up a bank account here in town. If the chest is taking up that much space, why not just open one for yourself, too?” he asked.
Shawn blinked. “Oh yeah, there’s a bank here.” He stroked his chin. “Perhaps I should put some away…”
“I mean, it couldn’t hurt.” Grif shrugged. “Probably won’t make a ton of interest, but might help keep it steady.”
“I don’t think that’ll be an issue,” Shawn remarked flatly, gesturing toward the chest of bits once more. “Either way, I’ll get to that in the morning.”
Pensword yawned. “Well, I think it’s time for me to get to bed, then. We can take you to see the princesses after you open your account tomorrow.”
“Sounds good.”
Taze stretched his human form out and groaned. It felt much like sliding back into an old suit as he rotated the joints. He’d decided to return to human form for a while before risking getting too comfortable as a Gryphon, as well as preventing questions about his whereabouts. The sun was just peaking up over the horizon as he closed the Punch Bowl’s door behind him.
“Good morning.” Moonshade’s voice was surprisingly soft, almost to the point of making Taze jump.
The human raised his brow as he gazed on the mare and the collapsed form of a familiar blue Pegasus that currently laid under one of her leathery wings. Then he smirked and chuckled. “Morning. You two seem cozy.”
Moonshade blushed. “He wanted to keep watch, but something must have tired him out during the day. He fell asleep a few hours ago. I didn’t have the heart to put him into bed.”
“I suppose that's fair. Just make sure he gets proper rest, okay? And don’t do anything sneaky.” He wiggled his eyebrows.
Moonshade’s face turned a curious shade of purple as her ears brightened into a lighter pink. “I would never.”
Taze laughed heartily. “I think that's the first time I ever got a reaction from you.”
Moonshade uttered a few choice words under her breath. “If you’re looking for Lord Shawn, he left about a half hour ago. Some smith masters, architects, and other tradesponies are supposed to be arriving today, so he went to the forges to prepare to greet them.”
“That makes sense.” Taze nodded. “But nah, just going out to keep up with my workout.”
“Without your ax?”
“I do more than that, but it’s part of it.”
“I assume you’re planning on another surprise inspection while you’re out?”
“Dunno yet. It will be a surprise!”
Moonshade shook her head. “You’re incorrigible.”
“Maybe, but at least I'm not boring.” Taze laughed as he waved his farewell, grabbed his ax, then whistled to himself as he departed.
Hammer Strike sighed as he looked over the armor sets he’d made at the Crystal Empire. While they held up well enough from the combat, they never received full maintenance afterwards, leaving a series of dents, scratches, and some minor warping. Pensword’s in particular had a deep dent in the chest, which would restrict breathing.
While working on the armor through the night was efficient, once morning came he was suddenly struck by a number of workers stopping by with questions, and soon found himself having to guide them to their work spaces.
He frowned as he thought over his needed materials, some of which they didn’t have in stock and would need to be imported.
“Great,” he muttered.
“That's the sound of someone who realized they didn’t bring enough iron,” Storm Hammer laughed.
“Moreso that we don’t have an import of Crystalline Steel, and I’ll have to figure out a suitable replacement,” Hammer Strike remarked, glancing over to Storm Hammer. “The import for that is going to take at least a week or longer.”
“What do you need it to do?” she asked.
“It was used on the ear protection, primarily in the joints to keep them flexible and capable of following the natural movement of said ears.” He gestured towards the helmet resting on his worktable.
“How did you figure that out?” she asked, looking it over. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“Not having any bearings small enough to fit there, I had to improvise some metal joints that I could remember. Thankfully, they hold up well, but they’re dependent on the material. Steel, or example, is too stiff, and tends to lock up on itself in these situations.”
“So you need a material that's soft enough to be malleable but hard enough to ward off a blow?”
“To a degree, yes.”
“Have you thought about electrum?” she asked.
Hammer Strike hummed in thought. “It could work, but the material may have difficulty with movement against itself. Worth a try, I suppose, so I’ll add that to an order.”
“Not sure what else would work besides gold, and we both know that's a dead end.”
“Exactly.” He sighed. “I’ll probably put in an order for a set of materials that might match the conditions I need. Beyond that, though, it’ll just be trial and error.”
“That’s the name of the game isn’t it?”
“Indeed. Kind of surprising that it isn’t used more often, though. I mean, wouldn’t you want a guard for your ears?”
“It’s been attempted. No one can really get the joints right for it, though. It always ends up meaning we sacrifice part of our hearing, which, for guards, could be deadly.”
“Think you could replicate my design if you study it enough?” he questioned, looking over to Storm Hammer.
“It would take a while,” she answered honestly. “Some of the parts you used, I’ve never seen before.”
“Fair enough.” He frowned. “Maybe wait for my second iteration of them. I could probably do better when I’m not in a rush to make three sets of armor and weapons in two days. I should be able to do better.”
“You must have run your helpers ragged with that.”
“I … did it alone,” Hammer Strike admitted.
“You created three kits in two days … alone?” She looked at him, dumbfounded.
“I honestly wasn’t too sure on how well I could manage making it, and given who I currently am, didn’t want to … make things difficult.”
“That's an amazing feat for anyone,” she said. “Seriously, do you never sleep?”
“I do, just … not as much since arriving here.” He frowned. “It’s been getting difficult to get rest, to be honest.”
She just shook her head, mumbling to herself as she returned to her work.
“I mean, hey, it’s at least not affecting my cognition or physical state.”
Taze knocked on the library door loudly after a quick walk in the morning air to said library. With any luck, Luna would be able to see him now.
To his surprise, a Lunar Guard opened the door at the Library and stepped back. “Princess Luna was expecting you. She’s currently residing in the basement. Please watch your step, as no lights are on currently.”
“Uh, thank you,” Taze said as he walked in. “Convenient,” he mumbled under his breath as he took the stairs carefully to feel his way out. Grif could see in the dark without difficulty. But a human’s vision was not so keen in the dark. “Uh, hello, Princess Luna?” he called out.
What he found took his breath away as he finally stepped on the floor of the basement. As if waiting for him to finish his descent, the ceiling lit up with a thousand pinpricks of light as a small orb hung off to the side showing the cratered surface of Luna’s charge. In the middle of the room, surrounded by faint blue glowing rings and spokes with images of some arcane manner, Princess Luna sat smiling. A second later, Luna appeared by the stairs. “My apologies for not meeting face to face. I am just dealing with the end of the night shift, and my duties as guardian of the dreams of Equestria. At which point I too shall rest.” She smiled tiredly. “You have something on your mind. Do you wish an audience with the Lunar Court?”
“It is my understanding, Princess, that you once learned to fight amongst the Gryphons?” Taze asked.
She smiled. “If it’s training you want, I’d be happy to teach you in your dreams about Gryphon fighting techniques.”
“Thank you.” Taze nodded “From what I’ve read, Grif is far from a popular figure in gryphon history, aside from being considered an outcast, he was also called ‘the Egg Smasher.’ I’m hoping that is some term for traitor to the people and not actually what the name implies.”
“It has two meanings,” Princess Luna began with a smile. “And with that question, it seems your lessons will begin this morning.” She spread her wings and a drawing of a Gryphon in the style of the artwork shown at the intro of the very first episode of Friendship is Magic appeared in the air. “The first meaning was that you killed a small enclave nest of Changelings.” She dropped her wings. “However, the term was usurped by those who were blinded by their own hate towards us, and changed to mean traitor, one who, if ever allowed into the homes of any children, would rend them apart.” She fully dropped her wings to her side as the smile faded into sadness.
“You apparently have met me in your past and my future. Was I that bad?” Taze asked. “The books I’ve gotten so far have been mostly on the culture. In my research, I found references have been made to the fact that Grif is to be spurned. They even attempted to erase the name from history.”
“An act that was stopped with the treaty that my Sister and I forged with them,” she muttered darkly, and seemed to poof from irritation. “As for what you did and will still do?” She smiled. “To keep the spoilers down, you live to the code of a warrior, both of the Gryphons and of Pokke. Within my ranks, to this day, it is symbolic now, but one guard in my personal guards always wears a metal feather painted like your own on their person. We shall not state the reason behind that, but know that it is still held in high regard.”
“That’s comforting to hear.” Taze sighed. “Probably the scariest future I could imagine is becoming a monster.” It took a moment for him to realize how particular comment could be taken by his present audience. “I uh, didn’t mean that at you….”
Princess Luna chuckled. “No offense taken, Taze. Nightmare Moon is a chapter of my life I am not proud of, but it is not something I shrink from.” She narrowed her gaze. “Know this, however, Taze. Grif will become a monster, but not in the sense you might think. He becomes a monster that is feared by the real monsters. You remind them of how far they have fallen. And that is something that a Gryphon’s pride does not wish to bear. To us, you are a hero. Those that you fought against villainized you and tried to erase your name because you uncovered their shame for all to see.”
“You’ve given me a lot to consider,” Taze noted. “Thanks for your help. And i look forward to training with you, but i think I’m going to need to ponder all of this now.” He gave a Lunashort bow “Thank you, Princess Luna.”
“You are welcome Grif, Warrior and Champion of the injured,” Luna replied. “However, before I go.” She looked to the sky and then back to Taze. “How is my Major holding up having to spend time with her foalhood hero?”
Taze laughed loudly. “Princess, there may be a time where I may need to request from you that the sky be perfect for a night. She is as hopeless as he is, and I fear nothing but a major push or the rise of He Who Must Not be Named will break the wall they’ve set.” He laughed again. “I hope with your aid will bring that wall down for them.”
Princess Luna smiled and nodded. “I don’t understand the reference, but I do understand the sentiment. It might please you to know that I’ve planned for such a perfect night on New Year’s Eve.” Then she allowed herself an excited little dance. “Ooh, it’s been ages since Tia has let me play matchmaker. Tell me, do you have plans already?”
“Oh, plans I have, but with your help now, I have means.” Taze laughed. “And don’t worry. I ramble a lot myself. So, here’s what we’re going to need….” And thus the two began their conspiracy.
Hammer Strike strode calmly toward the Punch Bowl with a large sack draped across his back. Metal clinked and jingled with every step as he approached the door and pulled it open. The tap room wasn’t very active yet, since most of the other Ponies were still at work. Berry Punch raised her head to glance idly from one of the many glasses and steins she was busy dusting and polishing in preparation for the guests and patrons that would be coming that night. A ledger sat open on a bare patch of counter nearby, and she would glance toward it with a surprisingly intent expression for one who so often seemed to struggle with hangovers. The communication between the two Ponies was unspoken, as usual. Berry respected Hammer Strike’s style, and he was grateful for that. A soft nod between the two of them was all the greeting they required.
A set of hooves clopping down the stairs drew Hammer Strike’s attention, and his gaze soon fell on his new seneschal. Polished Brass took one look at his lord and gasped, then approached rapidly and gave a hasty bow. “Milord, I wish you’d asked for one of us to come with you. If you were going to bring back supplies, we would have been happy to assist you. It is the duty of the servants to serve, after all. That includes procuring and delivering various items. Might I help you bring these to your room?” he asked, gesturing toward the sack.
“No, no, it’s all right. It’s Pensword’s armor.” He shifted the sack. “I just finished repairs on it and planned on dropping it off before I head off for a brief meeting followed by looking into the market for anything useful.”
“If you’d like, you can draw up a list. I can ask one of the staff to look for you so you have more free time for other pursuits,” Polished Brass offered.
Hammer Strike shook his head. “I actually enjoy overlooking the market. I’ve found quite an interesting selection of items on my trips.”
“Then at the very least, we should arrange a companion to assist with carrying what you purchase or setting the arrangements for delivery. I do have one in mind, should the suggestion be amenable to you.”
Hammer Strike knew this was going to happen one way or another. “If you insist, then I shall accept, this time. After, of course, I drop this off and prepare myself.”
“Of course, Sir. With your leave, I’ll go to inform the staff. She’ll be ready to join you once you finish your errand here.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Hammer Strike replied as he made his way toward Pensword’s room. What he hadn’t anticipated was Moonshade still standing guard while Pensword was asleep. He hummed as he took in the two. “Still standing guard, I see,” he commented softly.
“More keeping him from leaving until he actually sleeps.” The Thestral rolled her eyes. “Is that the new armor?”
“Yeah.” He placed the sack off to the side. “Fixed up the dents and fixed up some of the dexterity issues.” He looked over to Moonshade and what she was wearing. After a moment he hummed and spoke again. “Sometime in the future, maybe you could stop by as well. I think I could upgrade what you’re wearing, too.”
“That would definitely make life easier.” She nodded. “I heard from Princess Luna that the nobility may try making a move on you soon.”
“Joy.” Hammer Strike sighed. “Having been informed of my … standing has only made things more awkward and added more nuance to things. I’m sure the others feel the same,” he finished, gesturing roughly in the direction of Pensword.
“He definitely seems stressed,” she agreed. “Though he’s handling himself amazingly well.”
“I suppose I could say you’re helping in that regard.” Hammer Strike gave a brief chuckle.
“How so?” she asked, tilting her head.
“By keeping him focused or distracted at times. Though, I’m certain you’re certainly feeling strange, seeing a legend before it was fully formed.”
“I mean, they say never meet your heroes. Though so far, it’s not nearly as bad as they make it seem,” she chuckled. “I had the biggest crush on his legend as a foal.”
”Did you now?” Hammer Strike raised a brow. “Well, in either case, I’ll wish you luck if you pursue.”
She blushed at the comment. “Not sure I’m the type to end up with dashing heroes of old.”
“Well, if you think about it that way, you wouldn’t make any progress. But, last I checked, we’re currently in a state before said acts of heroism.”
“I mean, you're not wrong,” she admitted.
“Then you’ve got something to think about then,” he chuckled.
“Yes. Thank you.” She sighed. “Is there anything else?”
Hammer Strike thought it over. “Pensword, Grif, and myself will be away to Canterlot soon for a meeting with certain noble houses, so you’ll either be ordered to tag along or, if not, you’re welcome to join us.”
“Thanks for at least giving me the option.”
He nodded. “In any case, I’ll probably look into some new weapons for the trip. Never know what’ll happen there,” he muttered the last part.
“That seems like a very wise idea.” She nodded. “Will you have them ready by then?”
“Easily. It’s just a matter of determining what to bring, especially since most of them seem to dislike open weaponry. So perhaps some new concealed weapons on top of what I’d normally bring.” He hummed in thought.
“I mean, Canterlot lives in a fantasy land where they believe everything is completely safe.” She shrugged. “From what I’ve heard, they’ve even attempted to keep the guards from carrying spears a few times.”
“Yeah, because disarming the guard is a smart idea.” Hammer Strike rolled his eyes. “Yeah… Making a loud statement would be a good idea. Perhaps a great weapon of some kind. Maybe a greatsword.”
“That would certainly send a message. Not exactly a common choice amongst Ponies.”
“Fair.” He nodded. “All right, I’ll leave you to your duties. I should get back to my plans.” He gave her a nod as he departed.
“Let’s see…. Get around to the meeting with Celestia and/or Luna at Twilight’s, short trip to the market, glance over and determine small plans afterward, then return for paperwork,” he muttered to himself as he continued on his way downstairs.
The subtle swish of fabric was the only indication of the mare’s approach. Her outfit, while not the formal garments one would expect from a maid, were still designed for functionality and respectability. A winter cloak was wrapped around her body with a hood waiting to be pulled up over her head should she need it. A conservative pair of earmuffs wrapped around her neck, and a pair of saddlebags were tied around her barrel. Her gray mane contrasted well with her brassy coat of fur, and there was no sign of a horn or wings to be seen. “M’lord,” she greeted him with a bow. “Polished Brass informed me of the task. I’ve come prepared with the necessary materials, including multiple sacks to carry goods in, should you be of a mind to make larger purchases today.”
Hammer Strike gave a small chuckle. “You’ll potentially find yourself disappointed. I can carry quite a lot.”
“I’ve no doubt. But it’s difficult to bargain properly while laid down with goods. I understand you want to carry a certain amount yourself, but I hope you’ll allow me to serve you at least a little by carrying what I can. I’m much stronger than I look.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” He gave a smile. “Though do be warned, I have a habit of taking on more than I should in terms of … nearly anything. Beyond that, we’ll see how the trip goes before we further plan on it.”
“As you wish,” she acquiesced meekly. “My name is Dust Bunny, Sir. Chores and errands are my specialty.”
Hammer Strike nodded. “I’ll ensure I commit it to memory. It’s a pleasure.”
Dust Bunny offered a shy smile in return. “We’re ready to depart when you are, M’lord.”
Hammer Strike gave a sigh before a small smile formed once again. “Had a feeling it wouldn’t be that simple. All right, let’s be off then.”
As the two emerged from the inn, a pair of familiar stallions decked in civilian clothes flanked either side. The barest hints of armor pushed against the winter garb to indicate that while they may have been dressed for weather, they were still ready for trouble.
“Afternoon, Sir,” Blast Shield said with a smile.
“Lovely day for a walk, wouldn’t you say?” Tower Shield finished.
“Can’t ever take a break, can you?” Hammer Strike chuckled. “I suppose it is nice out.”
“The price of nobility,” Tower returned.
“Though it does come with some perks, Sir,” Blast said. “Like getting to enjoy this day without being stationed in Canterlot.”
Dust Bunny giggled.
“Enjoy it while you can. I’ve got to make a trip back there soon enough,” Hammer Strike remarked.
“If it’s with you, Sir, we won’t mind,” Tower said.
“Faust have mercy on the poor souls who had to replace us,” Blast added.
“Amen,” Dust Bunny offered in a far more timid murmur.
“Ex Divinia Etiam, it must have been horrible. I’ve hardly interacted with them and I got a pretty good feeling from that alone.” Hammer Strike chuckled once more. “At least you all appear to be enjoying the new job, even if it is dull and uneventful at this time, given we have yet to move toward the old castle grounds.”
“A good leader plans ahead and waits for the opportune moment,” Tower said. “We can manage until it’s time.”
“Besides, with you and your friends around, it’s never boring,” Blast added.
“Fair enough, I suppose.” Hammer Strike shrugged.
It didn’t take them long to arrive at Golden Oak Library. Its branches were laden with snow carefully built up to form a faux crown in place of its missing leaves. The soldiers took one look at Hammer Strike, nodded, then opened the door for him.
Luna looked over the last scroll a few times before nodding and sending it away in a burst of dark blue fire. “I believe that covers everything that needs to be covered,” she said to Taze.
“So it’ll be ready, then?” Taze asked.
“Is this a conversation I should sit by on and wait outside?” Hammer Strike asked with his sudden arrival.
The guards in the room started and swiftly drew their weapons before realizing just who they were drawing them on. They looked questioningly at Princess Luna. The mare nodded in return, and the guards drew back to return to their posts.
Hammer Strike raised a brow. “Didn’t realize I could startle someone so easily.”
Luna shrugged. “They’re just on edge with all that's happened.”
Hammer Strike shrugged in response. “Fair enough. In any case, should I come back later?”
“You're good,” Taze said, heading for the door. “I was just leaving anyway.”
Hammer Strike nodded. “We’ll catch up later.”
“Later.” Taze nodded as he left.
“I’m glad to see that you came,” Luna commented.
“It’s no problem. Though I apologize for taking my time to get here. Other things took my attention, admittedly.” Hammer Strike rubbed the back of his neck.
“It’s understandable. I’m sure you're very busy.” She nodded. “This is mostly just whatever prep I can help with for your coming move.”
“More information is always useful. What have you got for me?”
“Well, for starters, the portcullis is likely to be in severe disrepair. The metal wasn’t in the best shape when I returned, and winter has likely done nothing to help it.”
“Taze actually figured that part out, as it collapsed soon after they departed.”
“Well then, as you probably guessed, most of the facilities are archaic,” Luna explained. “I imagine they’ll take some work to get them up to modern standards.”
“Amusingly enough, I have plans to solve that issue. Though how much of the previous system can be used will only be determined when I can check it out.” He frowned in thought. “Given the descriptions I’ve received so far, I’ll likely have to gut the current one entirely and start anew.”
“I should warn you Celestia and I had some creative adjustments made to the palace when we were younger, some traps one might consider childish.”
“Were you warned of the mercenary groups that tend to use the area?”
“We were.”
“That seems to be everything, then.”
“In that case, I’ll keep all that noted.” Hammer Strike hummed. “If there isn’t anything else, I do have something that I can bring up.”
“Oh?”
“I planned on making some adjustments to the armor of those who will be working under our group, including those of your guard stationed as assistance. Figured I would ask if you were fine with me making said adjustments to the armor of your guard.”
“What were you thinking?”
“One particular thing I had was to adjust their helmets, adding a hinge-based ear guard. It would basically just allow protection over the ears, given they are currently just out in the open. The swivel and hinge system I have in mind would allow free range of movement with protection and no penalties.”
“That would definitely be a monumental improvement.” She nodded.
“Then if you approve, I shall work on that in my free time.” Hammer Strike nodded. “In any case, that’s all I had to discuss.”
“Oh, I'll definitely approve.” She nodded. “Thank you for the effort!”
“It’s no problem. It helps keep me active. Never liked sitting idle.” Hammer Strike gave a soft grin.
The grin prompted a sad smile from Luna just for a moment before she nodded. “Well then, I think that's everything. We both have a lot to do yet, right?”
“It seems that way, yeah.” He nodded. “Have a good day, and night, all right?”
“You as well.” She nodded.
Hammer Strike took his leave, ensuring Dust Bunny, Blast, and Tower Shield followed along as he directed the two of them toward the market. “With that out of the way, shall we see what the market has in store?”
Dust Bunny nodded. “Of course, Sir. We can see about ordering more food for the rest of the staff as well.”
Hammer Strike hummed in thought. “Remind me to give Polished Brass bits to manage additional needs for everyone. I’d feel bad if it entirely relied upon me.”
“I will, Sir. In the meantime, I have the sacks ready to store whatever you may want to purchase.”
“We’ll see how things go when we get there. I think I’ve already spent my luck when I managed to find orichalcum for a cheaper price.”
Dust Bunny chuckled. “If the stories are to be believed, Sir, I think you might be surprised.”
The air was calm and still, and an overcast brought in by the weather patrol the previous night muted the sun to cast the sky in gray. In the Punch Bowl, a figure curled in bed stirred sleepily, then slowly opened his eyes. A slow yawn forced his body to move and stretch, cracking his slumber further as blood circulated through his veins anew. He blinked and rubbed his eyes, then asked the fatal question as he flapped his dark blue feathers to greet the day. “What time is it?”
“It’s almost noon,” Moonshade said tiredly.
Moonshade might as well have struck him with a cattle prod. Pensword bolted upright and leapt into the air as his eyes bulged cartoonishly wide. “What?”
“Yes. I thought you were just extra tired, so I let you sleep in a bit.”
“Now that would be a feat,” he murmured to himself, then shook his head to clear the unintentional pun from his head. “I appreciate the thought, Moonshade, but seriously, I can’t afford to sleep in like that. What would the troops think if this became a habit?”
“I doubt it would become a habit.” She shrugged. “The troops will understand.”
“Most of the troops probably will. It’s the brats and the self-entitled that I’m more concerned about, especially those who are still struggling to overcome their aristocratic pride.” He lowered himself to the floor, then looked critically at Moonshade. “But enough about that. You look ready to drop. Just how long have you been staying awake this time?”
“That's not important,” she said. “I’ll be able to sleep soon.”
“It’s important to me, Moonshade,” Pensword’s voice came gently as he approached her. “You’ve been with us from the beginning. You looked after us, and you still do.” He huffed a single low laugh. “You were watching me just now.” He laid a wing over Moonshade’s back. “At least let me return the favor,” he said as he guided her toward the other bed.
“I suppose a couple hours couldn’t hurt,” she admitted begrudgingly as she was led.
“You know, I could tie you to that bed if I have to,” Pensword pointed out.
“I really doubt that,” she chuckled.
“Careful. I may just be tempted to do it one of these days.” He smiled, then gestured to the mattress. “All right. In you get.”
“Thank you, human.” She yawned as she crawled into bed.
“You’re welcome, Thestral,” Pensword answered in kind as he drew the covers over her. “I’d say good night, but I think in this case, good day would be more appropriate.” He chuckled. “Sleep well.”
“I will,” she mumbled as she slipped off to sleep.
Pensword smiled as he crept to a chair nearby and sat down. “And I’ll make sure you do,” he murmured to himself.
Meanwhile, a few guards were gathered in one of the new buildings at the base in a half-completed library.Gray Skies looked out the window, his face furrowed in frustration. “I can’t believe we gave up the officer barracks for even more Ponies.” The Stallion looked up and turned his head as he heard a door open and close. “Hey, Straight Nail, any idea when more barracks will be built?”
“It’s going to take some time. At this point, it might not be worth the resources,” the Pony noted. “By the time we get more buildings done, it will be time to move.”
The guard at the window nodded. “Yeah, just, it feels strange not having the actual brass on base.” He shook his head. “Then again….” He trailed off. “I don’t know what to think with these characters. There are rumors that the three humans are in fact those heroes that showed up before Hearth’s Warming, and—” He paused and turned around, suddenly unwilling to finish the sentence. “This just, … I thought moving to a place like Ponyville would be a normal retraining, yet here we are building forts, towers, walls, scouting the edge of the most dangerous forest in Equestria with outright plans to travel into it. What did we get ourselves into?”
“We’re breaking ground. We could be famous for this.” Straight Nail shrugged. “Besides, we’ve been doing relatively well.”
“Yeah, but for how long? I was reading some newspaper clippings on one of my leave days. Did you know how many events happen in this town?” The Earth Pony clip clopped to one of the tables. “I’m just waiting for the next horseshoe to fall.”
“You're being pessimistic.” Straight Nail shrugged. “I mean, we could have been border guards.” He shuddered at the mere mention of it.
“I wonder if we are,” Gray Skies muttered. “Still, this thinking has kept my family alive.” He sat down and looked at the pile of newspapers, then sighed. “But I guess when you expect the gray clouds, you can enjoy the weather.”
“But it makes it hard to enjoy the sun,” the other pony laughed.
“Maybe, but it never gets too cold or too hot either.” He paused for a time as he pondered what to say next. “What do you think about those new folks in the barracks? And the rumors about Lord Hammer Strike?”
“The latter? I don’t really care about the rumors. I just wonder what the new armor’s going to look like when we’re getting it designed by a living legend,” Nail said. “Even the solar guard gets their armor from the castle forges. And we’ve got three of the best smiths from there. And you heard what happened at the showdown. Whether you believe he’s the legend or not, he knows how to smith better than anyone.”
“Maybe,” Gray Skies admitted glumly as he glowered. “But I wonder if we’re going to be guinea pigs for whatever inventions he comes up with.”
“Seriously, Gray Skies? We’re getting custom made armor designed by a legend, weapons that are strong enough to cut through stone!” Nail said. “Is there no pleasing you?”
“I like the same, and what is comfortable, because I know comfortable is safe. And I like being safe. I signed up for the Guard to help my family, not to put my life on the line like that. I can handle normal danger, but this….” He shuddered. “We’re going to have to fight monsters, Nail. Real monsters. Honestly, if I can get a normal guard job after this training is done, that’ll be fine by me.”
“I was put on the bench because I couldn’t get the hang of a spear.” Nail shrugged. “If this guard unit offers me the chance to pursue something different, I’m all for it.”
Gray Skies nodded. “Think I might ask to be in charge of supplies or something, then. Something nice, relaxing, and where I know I can do a good job when I’m not fearing for my life.”
“After what happened in Canterlot, I’d rather do my part to keep Ponies safe,” Nail said “My sister was in Canterlot when the attack happened.” The once-bright face on the Pony had taken a stony expression as he recalled that day. “The look on her face afterwards was haunting.”
Gray Skies shivered. “Don’t remind me about that.” He was quiet for a time. “They … they almost got me, too. And I tried to fight back. I really did. But … do you know what happened when I tried to strike one? My father yanked me back and lectured me to keep my head down and not go after any trouble.” He looked at the table. “I … couldn’t really build up the confidence after that. I don’t know if something broke or maybe it was being forced to watch my fellow guards get caught and wrapped up in those cocoons while I stood by. I washed out a week later. Don’t stand out. Don’t rock the boat, my father said.” He sputtered his frustration. “A whole lot of good that did for me.”
“Well, look at this as a chance to start over, then,” Nail said. “You're miles away from canterlot, getting training from legends of history backed by the word of Princess Celestia and Princess Cadance. And they have the backing of the Lunar Guard and Princess Luna on top of that. We have good food, shelter, equipment, bits. What's there to hate out of that?”
“Getting a letter to call me home?” he asked. But despite the pessimistic comment, Gray Skies couldn’t help but smile, just a little. “Today is a better day,” he admitted. “I’m outside of my room after training and shift, so it’s better than last week.”
“That, and I don’t think your parents would risk insulting House Strike,” Nail pointed out. “Isn’t that just borrowing trouble to try to worry like that?”
“I really don’t know, Nail. My folks are a bit…. I once saw something happen to them, and they reacted one way. The next time it happened, they tried the opposite way. Both times, they got the worst end. How do you get a bearing in life if you don’t know what will set the wrong folks off?”
“I’m sorry to hear that, Skies. Really,” Nail said. “But you know, essentially, you’ve gotta leave the nest, right? We’re going to make mistakes. But if we let that worry keep us from even trying in the first place, how are we supposed to learn? How are we going to fight for our friends in the guard, let alone the civilians here in Ponyville, if we can’t even bring ourselves to try?”
Skies heaved a sigh and drooped his head. “I just feel like I won’t make it,” he admitted. “I mean, right now I can hear my mom saying that I’m just going to make you mad for telling you about this, complaining, showing weakness. Telling me you’re going to leave the room because I said something stupid or annoying or cowardly or hurtful. And then where will I be after? A lone stallion who didn’t know better than to hold it in at the line and heading home a failure because of it. A failure in life, a failure in work, a failure in … well, everything. And then showing that to my parents, proving them right for sticking my neck out….”
Nail walked over and laid a hoof on his friend’s shoulder. “Then I think maybe it’s time you prove them wrong.” He smiled. “I’m not walking out that door without my fellow guard. And even if he’s not here, I’m certainly not leaving without my friend.”
Gray Skies stiffened at the word, then looked up with watering eyes.
Nail didn’t miss a beat. “Come on. Let’s go get a cider tonight. Pretty sure there’s still a stash hidden in the mess hall that’s got our names on it.”
Gray Skies sniffled. “You mean it?”
“About the cider? Who knows? I could be wrong. Wouldn’t be the first time, and I’m still kicking. But about going out with my friend? Definitely not.” He smacked Gray Skies on the back a few times and grinned. “Come on. Drinks are on me tonight.” He winced then. “Well, at least the first one is.”
Gray Skies couldn’t help but chuckle at that. “What was that about not worrying about the future?”
“Hey, a Pony’s still gotta save up a little for the rainy days.”
Both Ponies laughed as they exited the room. Unnoticed to either, a single sunbeam broke through the cloud cover to cast a pane of light through the murk.
Hammer Strike’s coat swished in the breeze as he passed through the stalls in the market. More than a few vendors remembered his generosity from the prior visit. And for some reason, the calls for wares became much more strident as he walked past. Some even went so far as to put on a literal display in the form of acrobatics and other antics in an attempt to gain his attention. Sadly, he hadn’t had much luck as of yet in his search for the rarer materials, but he did find enough high quality ores and crystals to make good use of in his efforts to reforge the armor sets and work on the ear joints he intended to implement.
Strangely enough, it was when passing one of the less assuming stalls that his interest was finally captured. Not by a grand show, nor by the growing mass of Ponies, and certainly not by Ponies begging on their knees. No, what caught his ear, and thus his attention this time, was something much simpler. Somepony said his name.
“It’s been in my family for generations. The sword was forged and owned by Lord Hammer Strike himself. One of my ancestors uncovered it in an old burnt-out ruin when she was trying to take shelter from a thunderstorm. The main structure was destroyed, but there was a hidden substructure she stumbled across with a secret cache. As the story goes, there was a small hoard of gold beaks, a few scrolls and tapestries, some sundry artifacts, and some shards from a stone that they’d never seen the like of before. She used the beaks to begin trade with the Gryphons and help establish the family name and business in that part of the world.” The stall owner stood beneath a cloth canopy with humble shelves behind her. The sword in question stood on display at the topmost shelf next to an intricate mask with radiant white hair and a fierce blue tattoo running down the forehead and onto the bridge of the muzzle. Two red crescent marks spread down toward the cheeks from each eye. Its empty-eyed gaze was at once compelling and intimidating.
“Who’d the house belong to?” one of the Ponies in the crowd asked.
The mare smiled kindly and brushed her white mane back behind an ear. Her fur was a coppery reddish-brown, and a white streak traced down her forehead to the base of her nose. “An old noble family, apparently. Someone named Promethean Flame. They must have died out a long time before, though. We’ve never found any other records about it.”
“How convenient,” another customer sneered.
“My curiosity has been peaked,” Hammer Strike spoke to Dust Bunny.
“Did you want me to clear a way for you, Sir?” Dust Bunny asked.
“No, that’s all right. Let’s take a look at which direction this’ll go.”
“It’s not like I’m trying to sell it. It’s just a good story. And they did ask,” the mare replied to the criticism as she motioned toward a customer who was currently looking over a mask shaped to look like the sun.
“Oh, it’s a great fairy tale,” the pony said. “But little more than that.”
The salespony’s gaze hardened. “My family doesn’t tell tall tales. Nor do they try to disparage another Pony’s reputation simply because they could be some form of competition,” she noted. For the briefest of moments, her eyes seemed almost to flash blue before returning to their normal earthy brown.
The detractor continued unperturbed. “No one can prove that sword is real. No Pony can identify it as a Hammer Strike weapon with 100% accuracy.”
“I’d say there’s at least one who can,” Hammer Strike spoke up as he approached.
“Maybe, but what are the chances they’re going to?”
“Given the fact I’m stopping by, I’d say the chances are pretty good.” Hammer Strike gave a small grin. “Who better to discern the blade’s authenticity than the one who made it?”
The mare stared at the Pony in a mixture that was equal parts bewilderment and skepticism. The detractor was most definitely on the skeptical side with just a dash of condescension.
“A fair response.” He shrugged. “And rather than spend my time trying to convince you through talking, how about I show off another example of an original?” He reached to the greatsword on his back and unsheathed it before flipping it and placing the tip of it into the ground beneath him. “Given the greatswords I make are rare, you’ll be hard pressed to call this one a fake.”
The neighsayer wisely chose to shut his mouth at that.
“Are you … Hammer Strike’s descendant?” the mare asked as the crowd cleared the way to make room.
Hammer Strike blinked a few times. “That’s a first,” he remarked, sheathing the greatsword. “But, not quite. I am Hammer Strike.” He sighed. “Given the amount of potential disbelief, Celestia and Luna deemed it necessary to provide me with their own confirmations.” Then he pulled the scroll out of his coat.
“Try to gainsay the seals of the princesses if you dare,” Dust Bunny said in an icy tone. “We can easily call some guards to verify it if you wish.”
“Uh, that won’t be necessary,” the detractor said. This time, sweat had begun to bead his brow. “I just remembered an appointment I need to get to. Goodbye!” Moments later, the Pony was galloping at full speed to get away from the stall and the noble who had suddenly graced them with his presence.
The mare looked intently at the stallion, his sword, then up at the shelf where her own sword lay. “You … really can tell if…?” she left it hanging.
“I certainly can.” His warm grin returned. “Would you mind?” He gestured towards the blade, even as the crowd collectively took a breath and huddled closer toward the mare’s stall.
“Let’s … do it behind the counter. I think there won’t be enough space if we try on your side.”
Hammer Strike nodded as he entered the stall properly. Strangely enough, it felt surprisingly roomy. Despite the time of year, the canvas still carried the scents of desert sand and summer sun. The dust of the road had embedded itself into the space, seeming almost to charge it with an energy all its own. The mare grabbed a stool and laid it before the shelves, then stood up on it on her hind legs to reach for the ornament.
Hammer Strike drew near her as she reached toward it. “By the way, what’s your name?”
The mare seized the sword and began to pull it down. “Epon-aaahhh!” The sword hilt knocked against the mask, and it toppled to the ground, stand and all. The mask fell perfectly over Hammer Strike’s face, since the stallion was looking up. The stand was caught in his hooves. “I’m so sorry!” Epona cried as she jumped off the stool. “Are you all right?”
Hammer Strike chuckled as he placed the stand down nearby and took hold of the mask. “I’m quite all right; no worries.” Upon removing the mask, he looked it over briefly before adding it to the stand and offering it back to the mare. “A pleasure to meet you, Epona.”
Epona swallowed heavily. “Thank you. I’ve sold to a lot of people before, but I have to admit that dealing with nobles is a new experience,” she replied nervously as she placed both stand and mask on a crate to the side.
Hammer Strike smirked. “I’m sure you’ll find I don’t act much like a noble in the first place.”
“A noble who doesn’t act like a noble? That’s either extremely bad or incredibly refreshing. I’m going to guess the latter, since the Ponies here don’t seem to be as scared of you,” she said as she handed him the sword. “Here it is.”
Hammer Strike took the sword and unsheathed it. There was no decoration, nothing gilded, no engravings apart from one singular mark. His own symbol stood proudly on the blade, a little worn in from use, but without a doubt his own. Turning the blade, he studied its edge, noting that, while old, it still held its form well, and was easily still capable of service.
Nothing fancy, and made for combat.
“This was definitely made by me,” he finally confirmed. “The age is there, and it’s seen use, but it’s just as I would know it.”
“Then it should probably go back to its owner,” Epona said. “I mean, it was yours once, right?”
“It was,” he agreed. “And it should.” He sheathed the blade. After a second, he held it out for her.
Epona stared at the sword, then at Hammer Strike, then the sword again. “I … don’t think I understand. Are you … giving this to me?”
“It already found a new owner; one I think I can accept.” Hammer Strike gave a soft smile. “Even if you aren’t going to use it, care for it well.”
“My family always has.” She nodded in a mixture of humility and gratitude as she took the sword and sheath back. “And we always will so long as we have it.”
“I’m sure you will.” He eyed the crowd briefly. “If there’re no other issues, I think I’ll have a look around, see what you have.”
“Of course.” Epona beamed. “Help yourself. I’ll tell you about whatever you want to know. Well, as much as I can, anyway. I don’t know everything.”
Some of the crowd drew closer to spectate. Others peeled off to search at other stalls, seeing that there would be no chance to reach Epona at the moment. Some few bolted with all the speed their hooves and wings could carry them. Dust Bunny eyed them carefully with narrowed gaze.
Hammer Strike glanced across the shelves, finding a number of general goods and strange and unique objects. It wasn’t until a flash of blue caught his eye that he finally spoke up again. “Is that … an ocarina?”
While Hammer Strike dealt with his shopping at the stalls, Taze had since switched back to Grif in order to reach areas more quickly. As he was gliding across the stands looking for certain ponies on his list, he couldn’t help but stop as his ears picked up an interesting sales pitch.
“This is an extraordinarily rare piece, the ebony claw worn by none other than Grif, Son of Graf in the battle for the Crystal Empire,” a blue Earth Pony stallion told his currently starry-eyed audience as he held his hooves over a glass case. Contained within was a gauntlet made of a black metal. The ends of each of the four fingers were tipped with a razor sharp tip, and the whole thing was lined with gold. A large ruby was mounted on the back of the hand portion of the gauntlet. Grif lifted his eyebrow as he landed just behind the crowd. “It’s said that in all the gryphon kingdoms, there is not a more feared instrument of war than this gauntlet.”
“How do you know it’s his?” Grif asked from the back of the crowd.
“Grif was known for his talons. They were larger than most Gryphons,” the pony explained. Indeed, the claw was rather large, but Grif looked at his talons with a raised brow. They didn’t seem that large. As a human, his hands were thin. His fingers were just long. And honestly, they didn’t seem that big right now.
“Seems a bit … gaudy for a simple gryphon,” Grif said again, having altered his voice slightly.
“Well, those are stories spread by the historians of the Crystal Empire to amplify his strengths and minimize his weaknesses,” the salespony said to keep up his pitch.
“Actually, no.” Grif sighed and shook his head, walking to the front of the group. “Honestly, I wouldn’t wear that thing if my life depended on it. And even if I did want to, I couldn't.” The Gryphon held out his talons to compare.
The merchant blinked and shook his head. “Well, of course not. The Legendary Grif was the biggest Gryphon around. No Gryphon before or since has been as big. Though it is admirable that you are trying to live up to the only Gryphon to side with Equestria during one of the many wars in the past.”
Grif raised an eyebrow as he unsheathed one of the blades from his back. “Grif carried unique blades in combat, didn’t he?” he asked, unsheathing the other blade. “Designed by Lord Hammer Strike. Depictions showed them to be smaller and thinner. Each had only one equal in the world, and that was its twin. Please, take a look.” He held the blade out. “Forged by the hoof of Lord Hammer Strike during his three day sprint in the fires of the formerly missing Crystal Empire and tempered in the blood of those that followed Sombra.”
The audience was silent, and the merchant’s eyes widened as he noted the tiny mark near the base of the swords Grif presented. He managed to remain calm enough not to let the trembling show, despite how his face began to pale. Instead, he offered a nervous smile to the crowd. “It … appears that even a humble merchant, such as myself can,” he cleared his throat uncomfortably, “be hoodwinked. I apologize for the inconvenience. To all present, and only till you leave, I would like to offer a one-time discount of ten percent for anything bought. Except for the gauntlet, of course. Naturally, I’ll be turning that in to the authorities as a forgery.” Sweat ran down his face as he looked at the bleak-faced Gryphon.
“Be sure you do that.” Grif re-sheathed the blades with a little more flair than necessary. “And I don’t want to hear any more stories about being ‘bigger than any other Gryphon’ or ‘having a weakness for the finer things.’ You got that?” He stared at the merchant with his raptor eyes.
“O-of course,” the merchant stammered. “Naturally, it’s not every day one gets to meet a legend. You have my thanks for showing the truth.” He winced. “Though my coin pouch may not be so grateful,” he muttered.
“I’d recommend you get that thing checked after you turn it in,” Grif added. If this Pony wanted to play that game, he deserved what was coming. “For all you know, it could be laced with dark magic. It certainly has a dark look. I wouldn’t hand it over to a friend, let alone sell it, without getting it checked first,” he noted, adding a dramatic pause that was partly for effect and partly out of respect for the innocent Ponies he had to kill to protect the rest. “I’ve seen what dark magic can do to Ponies.”
The crowd at the stall drew back en masse, leaving a now trembling stall owner to eye the thing warily, even as his teeth clenched and his eye twitched. “That is … certainly sound advice. Would … someone mind calling for the Guard?” He grimaced as he looked to Grif, schooling his face as best he could manage. “And would you be willing to stay so they don’t arrest me in the event your suspicions prove to be correct? I’m a loyal citizen of the kingdom, after all. I wouldn’t want anything to do with dark magic.”
“I’ll stay,” Grif said brusquely. “If only to get this mystery solved. Whatever this is, it looks like it was made for a Gryphon’s talons at least. What else it was made for, we will see.”
The stall owner gulped and chuckled in a mixture of nerves and defeat. “Yes, … I suppose we will.”
The afternoon air was cool and brisk as Pensword and Moonshade both strode together into the market. “You’re sure you got enough sleep?” Pensword asked again for what had to have been the fifth time.
“I’m fine.” She shook her head. “You’re worrying too much.”
“That tends to happen when you have to take care of three young royal heirs and keep them safe from an evil threat.” Something shiny caught his eye, and a squeal escaped him as the glint of a model train engine complete with magical steam power drew his attention. “Do you think it has a functional whistle?” he asked as he gesticulated excitedly with a wing.
“What?” Moonshade asked, confused by his reaction.
“The train, Moonshade, the train!” He almost yanked her toward the stall in his excitement, which was no easy feat to most other Ponies that might try.
“What is it with you and trains?” she asked as they headed for the stand. “Those are for foals.”
“I can sum it up for you in one word, Moonshade. History. Steam power was one of the first forms of power successfully generated by humans. The marvels of engineering that went into its creation, the clarion call of its whistle, the power and blood and sweat that went into moving something so titanically heavy and keep feeding it constantly. It’s a testament to the struggle of creation and advancement. Surely Thestrals must have some means to relate to that kind of feeling, a sense of awe and respect, as well as pleasure and pride?”
“Well, if it makes you happy….” She shrugged, still confused.
“More than you can begin to imagine,” Pensword said with a grin. “Give me enough time and I can probably teach you everything you could ever need to know about how to run a steam locomotive and repair it if it breaks down. Not to mention all the antiques this place has!” The smile lasted for a good minute before one of his ears twitched. Then he cocked his head. His brow furrowed, and he frowned. “... Is it just me, or did I just hear someone talking about me?” he asked.
“I heard it. I’m surprised you have,” she said. “It’s just someone hawking something connected to you. Likely a scam.”
The frown quickly shifted to a scowl. “In that case, I know where we’re going next. If there’s one thing I can’t stand, it’s someone making a mockery of history. Especially a history I lived.”
It didn’t take them long to find the source. Moonshade’s Thestral ears were very good at guiding them, and a crowd had begun to form with the buzz of the historical figure’s name. A Unicorn with a slicked-back golden mane and a charming smile was busy working the crowd while motioning toward a display case with a transparent lid for easy viewing. The sword inside shone with a rainbow-like patina that shimmered like an oil slick as the light reflected off of it. The steel inside was bright and well preserved, seeming almost as if the crystal had grown around it, rather than forged with it. The hilt was stout and serviceable, designed not for elegance, but efficiency. The pommel jutted in a sharpened spike designed to bash through enemy helms and fracture skulls. In short, it was indeed a warrior’s blade.
“This right here is museum quality. You’ve heard of the weapons wielded by the heroes of ages past, the artifacts they left behind for posterity. This one was lost to time itself. And I have it on very good authority that this is the genuine article forged from ores found only in the Crystal Empire with a form and technique that no modern smith would ever use today or could use back then.” The trader hovered a certificate bearing the hoofprint and signature of a specialist Pensword had never heard of before.
“Who the hay is Glyph Reader?” Pensword asked the mare.
“Likely some sort of important archeologist?” Moonshade shrugged. “Or a purported one.”
“Of all the days for me to be without my armor,” Pensword muttered. Then he sighed. “Ah well. In for a penny, in for a pound. Mind backing me up, Moonshade? You’re a trusted figure here, after all. Everypony knows you better than they do the me from the Crystal Empire. I might need you to vouch for my identity.”
“I’ll back you,” she assured. “It’s part of my duty.”
“Hopefully this can be a little fun, too. Do you have a way to signal some guards to come here for an arrest without alerting anyone? I assume this kind of crime is a little more serious than your typical swindle.”
“I can handle an arrest myself if it’s necessary,” she said. “No reason to make people on edge.”
“I should have expected as much.” He smiled. “In that case, are you ready to take the stage and steal the show?”
“Ready when you are.”
Pensword nodded and took to the air so he could have easier access to the salespony. “Either this authenticator took you for an easy mark or the two of you are working together on a scam. Either way, I would appreciate it if you were to stop this now, sir.”
The Unicorn took a few steps back to better distance himself from the interloper who had swooped so close to him. “Excuse me? And just who do you think you are?” The case quickly levitated behind him as he glared protectively at the Pegasus.
“I’m the Pony whose sword you’re supposedly selling.” A certain amount of satisfaction flowed warmly through his chest as the crowd gasped and began to whisper among themselves. Some were excited, others skeptical, as it always is and will be in such situations. He raised his voice for the rest of the crowd to hear. “As such, this can go one of two ways. Either you can return the property that is, by rights, mine in the first place, or you can stop this now before it gets out of hand and leads to an arrest. Either way, I think I’ll be taking this sword.”
The Unicorn barked a laugh. “You most certainly will not,” he countered. “This is my property. I bought it fair and square, and I authenticated it through the proper legal channels. This sword belongs to the real Pensword. And you, sir, belong in a sanitarium.”
That won a few jeers and laughs out of the crowd. Pensword, however, was not amused. The ringing that followed the insult bore the subtle vibrations of crystal and the dreadful promise of tempered steel as Pensword removed his sword from its scabbard. “Keep this up and you’ll belong in prison,” he said in a dreadfully calm tone of voice. “If you want a sample of Hammer Strike’s work, look no further than this.”
“And where’s your certificate of authentication?”
“I don’t need one. I work for him directly. If necessary, I can make the arrangements for you to meet him personally. I don’t think you’ll like the accommodations, though.”
“And I’m Princess Cadance,” the Unicorn snarked back.
“Do you consider your word to carry more weight than the princesses?” Moonshade asked him seriously as she alighted beside Pensword. Her eyes were piercing, and her armor as intimidating as ever a Lunar Guard’s should be.
“Anyone can claim they speak for the princesses,” the Unicorn scoffed. “And anypony can pretend to be a guard if they have the right connections.”
Lunar fang looked at him, her pupils forming lines as they dilated. “I am Major Moonshade of the Lunar Guard, sir. And I would suggest you get ahold of your tongue before it gets you a night in the lockup.”
“I’ve done nothing wrong here, and I have every right to sell this piece. If you are a Lunar Guard, as you say, then you will allow me to carry on with my business.”
“We would if it were honorable business,” Pensword said pointedly. “But whether you were tricked or not, that sword is not Lord Hammer Strike’s work, and it would be a crime to let it go to market under that assumed provenance. And to be perfectly blunt, sir, a small town like Ponyville is hardly the place to sell something so important, especially for a sum so little as 400 bits. But if you really do want to put it to the test, then I’ll be happy to oblige.” Pensword gestured to his sword. “All Equestria knows the legendary durability and strength of Hammer Strike’s swords. Any weapon forged by him would still be usable today and of higher quality than what a local smith can make. You say your sword is mine, made by Hammer Strike himself for my use. I say the same of my blade that I carry here, the same one that I used in the Crystal Empire to defend the royal bloodline. A simple exchange of blows should do the trick. And if anything, such a test will raise the value of your weapon with another proof should it succeed. Won’t you indulge me and the crowd here? I believe the phrase is ‘put your bits where your mouth is.’”
“It’s over a thousand years old!” the Unicorn balked.
“And collectors have pieces that are older than that and still in perfectly usable condition,” Pensword countered. “Please, take out the sword. It’s either test it here and now or take it with us to be tested in your sight by professionals. We happen to have the very best smiths the kingdom has to offer at the moment stationed here in town.”
The salespony grit his teeth and bit at the growl rising from his throat. “Very well,” he finally replied as the case opened and the sword hovered in the air.
“Major Moonshade.” Pensword gestured toward the sword. “If you would?”
She grabbed the sword and held it in a ready stance as the glow of magic faded from it. At the same time, the Unicorn smirked cockily.
“Do your worst,” he sneered.
“Best and worst don’t apply here,” Pensword said as he raised his sword. “Only the skill of the craftsman.”
With practiced motion, both Ponies got into their ready stances. Then each nodded to the other and slashed. The air rang with a bell-like tone at the first strike, and the rainbow flashed from the Unicorn’s blade. A second blow left the flash duller, the tone less true. The third left a cracking sound. No flash emanated this time. On the fourth strike, the Unicorn winced in pain as crystal shattered and the clatter of metal bouncing and skittering over solid earth followed. Both Ponies returned to a resting stance. Pensword’s blade didn’t bear so much as a nick, scuff, or scratch. The same could not be said for the remnants of the blade in Moonshade’s grip.
“Like I said,” Pensword returned quietly to the smarting Unicorn. “That sword is a fake. This is the genuine article.” Then he sighed. “Moonshade, was that enough to take him in?”
“Fairly certain they can make a case of that, yes.” She nodded.
“Now … now hold on a minute. Let’s not be hasty,” the Unicorn said uneasily. The allusion to arrest had miraculously healed him of his headache.
“If you come quietly, this doesn’t have to get any worse,” Pensword said. “Resist or try to run, and we’ll show you just what the Lunar Guard and a direct servant to Lord Hammer Strike are capable of.”
This Pony was a little smarter than the average charlatan who’d been found out. Or maybe he’d just been found out before and knew better than to let shock or surprise hinder him. A blinding flash emanated from his horn to flood over the area, causing the crowd, Pensword, and Moonshade to be temporarily blinded.
The huckster bolted for all his legs were worth. However, his main path of escape led him right by where moonshade was standing. It was the only available avenue with such a tightly packed crowd. He didn’t notice the Thestral’s ears twitch, nor the speed with which she extended her foreleg. In the space of a breath, a heavy hoof backed with muscle tempered by years and years of constant training slammed into the Unicorn’s chest, rearing the Pony up with the backlash before adding to the momentum to bring him crashing hard to the ground. Her second hoof followed fast as lightning to thwack the base of the offender’s horn repeatedly with non-damaging force to prevent spell casting. “Gaurd!” she barked as she waited for her sight to return.
A combination of Lunar and Solar guards were soon on the scene. A dampening ring was quickly applied, sliding down the Unicorn’s horn to cut off any further chance of utilizing that member as anything other than a stabbing instrument. Then, flanked on all sides, the Unicorn was escorted off the premises and toward the brig that had been constructed as part of the military fort.
“Are you all right, Major?” one of the troops asked.
“I’ll be fine,” Moonshade said as she blinked and waited for the spots to finish clearing. “He tried to blind us. Check the crowd. Make sure everyone’s all right.”
No sooner had the words left her lips than it was done. Other than some surprise at the attack, it appeared no lasting damage had been done.
“Well, that was certainly an adventure,” Pensword said.
“Yup.” She smirked. “You okay?”
“I will be.” He shook his head. “Remind me to talk with Hammer Strike about preventative measures for attacks like that. No pun intended here, but that could be a serious blindspot down the road if we’re not careful.”
“That does seem wise.” She nodded. “Just a good thing I could hear him.”
“Think you can teach me that trick?”
“It requires super hearing.” She laughed. “Maybe some other time.”
“I’ll hold you to that.”
Moonshade smiled. “Good.”
“So yeah, I doubt he was expecting to be called out, but on the same note, this is kinda freaky. I figured best to bring it here,” Grif told the guard as he waited to see Hammer Strike.
The guard raised a skeptical brow. “Wouldn’t you know better about Gryphon armor than he would?”
“This isn’t like anything I know.” Grif shrugged. “We don’t generally use gauntlets. It makes it hard to use our talons effectively.”
“So you think it might’ve been somepony trying to replicate Gryphon talons? Maybe something that could be used in an assassination attempt to mask a real culprit? Not now, but sometime back when it was first made?”
“Something like that, yeah.” Grif nodded. “I mean, it looks like it’d fit a Gryphon, but it doesn’t seem very articulate, right?”
“I’ll take your word for it.”
“You should. He has a good idea of what I’m capable of.” A slight start passed through the guard at Hammer Strike’s sudden arrival. “Though he does have a habit of exaggerating.”
“Yes, well, you need to have a look at this.” Grif produced the gauntlet. “It’s … gaudy as all hell, but something's weird about it.”
“Let’s take a look, then. And I’ll need those sunglasses again for this.”
Hammer Strike took hold of the gauntlet, and Grif handed over the eye wear.
As before, the glasses proceeded to glow as Hammer Strike put them on. He said nothing as he scanned over the gauntlet left and right.
“Pardon me, Sir. Is that … magic?” the guard asked as he stared at the glowing lenses.
“It’s an artifact,” Grif said quickly. “Specialized for appraisal and keyed to Lord Hammer Strike specifically. I was carrying it for security reasons.”
“Oh.” The guard nodded and returned his focus to the appraisal. “That makes more sense.”
“Huh, it’s…” Hammer Strike hummed and tilted the gauntlet, continuing to look over it as his brows furrowed. “Just a gauntlet, though quite intricate. More so than you’re able to see,” he finished as the glow faded and he looked up to the two.
“You mean it has … tiny pieces?” Grif asked.
“Quite a lot of them.” Hammer Strike handed the item back to him. “You can keep this one for now. I wouldn’t recommend it be used in combat, though. It’s too old to function properly.”
Grif nodded as he stowed the gauntlet again. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
The next day dawned like any other, and once again, each of the members in the group of heroes went about their specific duties and errands. The day carried on, but eventually, the time came for a little rest in the haven they had come to call their temporary home. Hammer Strike, Dust Bunny, Grif, and the Shields all walked into the Punch Bowl together to find a seat for a meal and a rest. At Hammer Strike’s strict insistence, the three servants also sat at the table. Although she looked uncomfortable, as did the shields, none raised objections to their lord’s request.
“Can I ask where Pensword is?” Grif commented.
Berry Punch approached with some cups of water for them. “Moonshade took him off somewhere. Something about needing to get out and stretch his wings.” She smirked. “Y’ask me, I’d say she had a little something more in mind.”
Hammer Strike raised a brow but held his peace. Fortunately, he didn’t have to hold it long. Pensword walked in with Moonshade beside him. A cut above his eyebrow trickled to stain the fur there while the rest of his coat was sopping wet. His face was black as a thundercloud, and he muttered angrily under his breath.
“What happened to you?” Grif asked.
“Some cocky idiot thought it’d be funny to throw a snowball with an ice shard packed inside it and test my reflexes. I wound up crashing into a snow drift after the rest of the snow spread over my eyes. … And after I crashed through an entire row of icicles.” He groaned and smacked his muzzle against the table. “Could someone please get me a cocoa?”
“Did you see who threw it?” Grif asked.
“Moonshade did.”
“It’s been dealt with.” Moonshade nodded to Grif. “Firmly.”
Grif returned the gesture.
“So, what’s everybody else been up to?” Pensword finally brought himself to ask after Berry produced the chocolatey beverage.
“After a meeting with Luna yesterday, I took a trip to the market as well, stumbled across a mare who happened to own a blade I made.” Hammer Strike perked up briefly before reaching into his coat. “Oh, speaking of…. Grif, have fun.” He pulled out a small wrapped object and passed it towards Grif.
“Is this … an ocarina?” Grif asked, turning the object over in his fingers.
“Yep. Sold to me by a mare named Epona.”
“A Pony named Epona, an Ocarina….” Pensword’s eyes widened. “This wouldn’t be related to a certain videogame from Earth by chance, would it?”
“Who knows?” Hammer Strike shrugged.
“Are you all interested in video games?” Dust Bunny asked.
“We have a knowledge of them.” Grif shrugged.
"If you make training fun, the training can stick better," Pensword said. “The primary benefit was the increase in hand-eye coordination and reflexes.”
“Wouldn’t the benefit to that only be slight compared to real life training?” Dust Bunny asked.
“For beginners, it’s not a bad start,” Pensword returned.
Dust Bunny nodded. “I suppose it could always be worse.”
Pensword smiled. “Like a Changeling invasion?”
Dust Bunny shuddered, then nodded. “I don’t think anything could get worse than that.”
“Don’t ever say that,” Grif said. “Never tempt Murphy’s law.”
“What is Murphy’s Law?” the mare asked.
No sooner had the words left her lips then a violent shaking passed through the building with the impact of something heavy striking against one of the walls of the inn. Due to the utter shock generated from the event, and the incredibly sturdy structural engineering, nobody could quite tell whether the ominous cry of, “Cutie Mark Crusaders Cart Testers, YAY!” came before or after the impact. The chaotic nature of the three fillies involved, however, was well known in the town by now.
“That's Murphy's Law,” Grif said. “If you say anything about anything not getting worse, it gets worse,” Grif groaned.
“Without failure,” Hammer Strike added.
The shields shuddered. “We both saw that enough times at the Bluebloods’ estate.”
“Is anyone going to see if they’re all right?” Pensword asked.
Berry approached and served them each a bowl of steaming soup. “They’ll be fine. They do this kind of thing all the time.”
“I’d ask more about it, but I’m afraid of calling Murphy down again,” Pensword noted with a heavy sigh, then ate a spoonful of soup. The relief was evident immediately as the tension in his body relaxed.
“So, we know that the assault on the forest begins with Winter Wrapup, but what are your plans going to be for New Year’s, Sir?” Blast Shield asked.
“To keep bettering our equipment and training,” Hammer Strike responded with little thought. “You two?”
“Well, depending on the shift, we might be there with you,” Tower Shield replied. “That, or we would be celebrating the new year with some of the other guards and staff.”
“Fair enough, I suppose,” Hammer Strike hummed. “Everyone else?”
“Well, I thought we were going to have a little celebration of our own,” Pensword admitted.
“I mean, nothing’s stopping us from doing so.”
“Didn’t you say you were going to be working on equipment and training, though?”
“I’m always working on equipment and training. I’m sure I can take a break for a celebration.” He gave a brief chuckle.
“A party is definitely in order,” Grif agreed, offering a chuckle of his own.
“Would this be a private or a public affair?” Dust Bunny asked. “We can make the arrangements, but if you want to make it a public party, the rest of the staff and I will need the time to plan and select an appropriate venue.”
“Probably private,” Hammer Strike mused. “Unless someone decides to meddle….”
“Meddle?” Dust Bunny asked.
“You never know.” Grif shrugged. “Sometimes people like to change plans as a surprise. Doesn’t always end well.”
“You want me to get Pinkie Pie for you?” Berry asked. “She’s the best planner in town when it comes to parties.”
“So a public party, then.” Grif chuckled. “No way she’d keep it quiet.”
"Only if we make her promise to keep it low key," Pensword said. “I don’t think we’d appreciate a face full of party cannon confetti.”
“What?” Dust Bunny asked.
“That’s right, you probably haven’t seen that,” Pensword said. “Pinkie has this cannon that fires confetti and party supplies. She can decorate a hall in minutes with that thing. Or blast a Pony halfway across the room while they’re plastered with whatever she wants them to be dressed up in. Hats, costumes, flags, just about anything.” He frowned and rubbed his chin. “Honestly, I still can’t help but wonder how she does it all.”
“It’s Pinkie Pie. Don’t question it,” Grif said.
“But this isn’t even her Pinkie sense!”
“I said don’t question it,” Grif reiterated.
Pensword grumbled darkly as Moonshade patted him consolingly on the back.
“Oh,” Hammer Strike perked up. “Before I forget, Moonshade, stop by the forge sometime later when you can. I’ve got something finished for you. Pensword, I’ve finished fixing up the rest of your weapons and armor, too.”
Pensword perked up a little at that. “I was starting to feel a little naked without it,” he admitted.
“Oh?” Moonshade seemed momentarily surprised Hammer Strike had something for her. “Yeah, I’ll be there.”
Berry planted a massive basket on the table covered with a checkered red and white cloth. “Now that you’ve all settled your business….” She swiped the cloth away to reveal a shimmering trove of fluffy quickbread goodness. “Who wants one of Derpy’s muffins?”
Grif had gone to his room for some light reading. A few hours later, he rolled his muscles, trying to loosen up after sitting for so long. He opened his door only to find Hammer Strike had laid his armor outside without coming in.
Grif chuckled to himself as he took the armor into his room and laid it out carefully on his bed, happy to see it back in good condition. The few marks and scratches that remained seemed to give it a quiet dignity. Once he was secure in the knowledge of its restoration, he proceeded back into the hall and down to the tavern with only his swords on his back and his gun holstered at his side.
The forge was hot and sweltering as the royal smiths set to work at their crafts, working to outfit the troops for the expedition to come. Pensword and Moonshade strode in and locked eyes with Steel Weaver. The stallion looked intently at them, then jerked his head back toward the rear of the forge. It didn’t take a scientist to interpret his meaning. Knowing only too well the burden Steel Weaver carried, they left the stallion to his work and pressed deeper into the chambers. Each of the other two smiths were immersed in their own projects, whether gilding, engraving, etching, hammering, smelting or something else. As master craftsponies, each cared about making sure they produced quality each time, and it showed in their work.
Hammer Strike was no exception to this rule. In fact, one might say he was the embodiment. Despite the hints of bags forming under his eyes and the way his shoulders hunched over the anvil, he continued to work steadily with carefully measured strokes and techniques to ensure the best quality he could produce. So deep was he in his work that he was almost in his own world.
Two broad white cloths covered a pair of work tables, one on either side of the forge, to obscure whatever lay beneath. Whether to prevent prying eyes from trying to copy his designs or simply to prepare a surprise was anyone’s guess. The two Ponies approached slowly to avoid being struck by sparks. And just as one was about to raise their voice to tell the lord of their arrival, one of the floorboards creaked heavily.
Despite his exhaustion, Hammer Strike was swift as he removed a knife from his coat and pointed it towards the two. Even as he held it with precision, he put down his equipment safely before turning to face the intruders. Then he sighed, lowering the knife. “Sorry, that’s become a … natural response, I guess.”
“After everything we’ve been through, we can hardly blame you,” Pensword replied. “Has it really gotten that bad here, though?”
“No, it’s…” He rubbed at the back of his neck. “It’s other things. You don’t need to worry. I’ve got it handled,” he said, even as he returned the knife to his coat.
“If you say so.” Pensword nodded toward the forge. “You look like you’ve been busy. Did we come too soon?”
“No, no. Your stuff is complete.” Hammer Strike gestured at the covered tables. “Moonshade, yours is the left. Pensword, yours is on the right. Took a bit longer to fix the helmet, but I finally got an import of good material to do so recently.”
Pensword’s table revealed a custom-made helmet complete with a working pair of flexible ear pieces designed to pivot comfortably while still keeping the soft cartilage safe. Next to it, a brand new sword laid next to its sheath. It was freshly sharpened, and it gleamed in the forge’s light, as if to welcome its new master. Next to them, an old comrade waited for him to use once again. The many individual blades reflected his smile as he stroked the equipment. With this, he would be able to do a lot more damage to enemies in the future.
Moonshade gasped when she removed her cover. A brand new helmet stood before her, with an upgraded design that still retained the appearance of the Lunar Guard while using Hammer Strike’s techniques and a better blend of alloys for durability and strength. As it was with Pensword’s helmet, so it was for hers. The pivot joints waited for her ears to slide into place so that they could protect her. A nose bar spread neatly down the bridge of her nose to protect the majority of her muzzle without limiting her range of motion. A new harness also awaited her, complete with attachments designed to fit her wings. Unlike Pensword’s offensive capabilities, these were designed to contour to the wing joint and protect the bones beneath by diffusing the energy of blows she might receive and allowing her to redirect the flow of the attack. The unique design of the breastplate provided more cover to her back while still giving her the flexibility and visibility required to maneuver in the air and on the ground. The new armored horseshoes stretched taller in front, but were also designed with joints to ensure flexibility when walking, trotting, or rushing at a full gallop. What looked to be metal plates shaped almost like fans sat on either side of the horseshoes.
“Those are modifications you can use with your forelegs in an emergency to act as a barrier against projectiles. Not the same as a shield, but it will give you some time if you’re caught in the air and need to protect your vitals,” Hammer Strike explained.
Moonshade nodded. “That will be very useful. Thank you.”
“As for you, Pensword, I was able to fix up your helmet finally. The materials for the ear piece took some time to arrive, but I made sure to order a small stockpile of it for future use. Beyond that, your weapons from the Crystal Empire are fully repaired and should potentially be in better condition than when I first made them.”
“Better?” Pensword marveled. “How is that even supposed to be possible? I thought the Crystal Empire was supposed to be ahead of Equestria, at least for the materials.”
Hammer Strike blinked a few times, and once he was sure nobody else was in the room, he sighed. “It’s because of one variable,” he remarked before pointing to himself.
“You? Like … you tapped your cutie mark’s special talent or something?”
“Practice,” Hammer Strike said flatly.
“Oh.” Pensword blinked. “That makes sense, too.”
“Why would you think a cutie mark would make you instantly that good at something?” Moonshade asked curiously.
“I never said it would make you good instantly. I just know the magic in it can help increase the quality and skill involved when it’s tapped.”
“Yes, but not to that degree,” Moonshade said.
“Either way, Moonshade, would you mind trying on the armor? Since I didn’t take measurements, I admittedly worked off of what I could guess from looking at you,” Hammer Strike said.
Moonshade nodded and took the armor. When she walked out from the changing space a few minutes later, she grinned. “It fits perfectly.”
“She looks almost like a Valkyrie,” Pensword breathed.
“That’s a relief,” Hammer Strike sighed. “As said, it was entirely guesswork. I … admittedly thought I would have needed to make adjustments. Are you sure it fits perfectly? Even if it’s minor, I can make adjustments.”
“It’s perfect,” she assured him.
“Good.” He nodded. “It’d probably be a good idea for us to stop by the library, see what Luna thinks of the new armor.”
“Very well. We can head over immediately after we’re done here.”
Pensword nodded. “I think I’m ready. And who knows, maybe Princess Luna will like the new armor so much that she’ll want to commission Hammer Strike for more.”
“That would be a lot of work,” Hammer Strike noted.
A boisterous Brooklyn accent blasted through the open air as Ahead Scout, a fleet-footed and swift-winged Pegasus mercenary, regaled the other guards with one of his many, many off-color jokes. “So then I says to the mare, ‘that ain’t mustard.’” He laughed uproariously after delivering his punchline. Nopony laughed with him. It seemed his humor was completely unfathomable to all save for the Pony who served as his twin in all things, except for his fur color, despite not being born in the same family. Fortunately, Forward Scout was not here to egg the Pony on. And more than a few of the guards silently offered their prayers of thanks to whatever god they served for that boon.
Another wave of gratitude and relief soon followed as Hammer Strike himself rounded the corner with Moonshade and Pensword on either side of him. The guards were swift to act, forming up on either side in neat lines to allow the trio to pass unmolested. Even as they stood there with the rigid discipline one expects in the military, wandering eyes sought out the new armor and weapons that had been bestowed on Moonshade and Pensword.
“Different response than I expected,” Hammer Strike hummed.
“You do have a reputation,” Moonsahde chuckled.
“Yeah, but I’d rather not deal with that. I would like to just handle this meeting and get back to work.”
“This is probably going to keep happening, Hammer Strike, unless you order them not to around you. We have to train our cadets to act the same way when a superior officer approaches them,” Pensword pointed out.
“Yeah,” Hammer Strike sighed. “Probably for the best to just leave it be.”
Moonshade nodded as she followed.
“As you were,” Pensword said by way of dismissal as they continued on their way through town. They reached the library and the guards watching over the entrance a few minutes later.
“Is Luna around?” Hammer Strike questioned.
“The princess may still be asleep, but if you wish an audience with her, she would prefer to see you immediately. One of us will escort you in and, if necessary, alert her to your arrival.”
“That’ll work. I finished the armor I mentioned, and I figured I would see what she thought of it.”
The guard nodded, and the three companions were easily escorted in. The room was surprisingly dark, save for a candle bobbing at the center table by the wooden horse head. Its flame was a cold and icy blue. In its light, one could almost perceive the glitter of frost on the decoration. Twilight frowned as she stared at the candle while Spike stood nervously behind her. Celestia gazed with curiosity and just a hint of wonder at what had been wrought.
Hammer Strike hummed as he noticed the candle. “Is it safe to assume you performed an aspect exchange, like the book mentions?”
Twilight jumped and yelped in surprise, having been too immersed in her project to hear the door opening. “Um, Hammer Strike. I … didn’t hear you come in.” She smiled sheepishly. “Yes, I decided to apply one of the safer theories labeled in your translation for starters, and to see if I could replicate it with magic instead of this field it mentions.”
“At least it was one of the safer theories.” Hammer Strike shrugged. “But, from just looking at it alone, it seems as though you got it right.”
“These aspects are fascinating. It’s almost like I’ve enchanted the candle, but it can still burn. In theory, since the flame now has its aspect reversed, it can burn indefinitely or until it’s snuffed out, right? Though … does it still feed on air?” she pondered as she stared intently at the flame again.
Celestia smiled warmly. “You’ll have to forgive Twilight. When she finds something interesting, it takes a force of nature to pull her away. Welcome, Hammer Strike, Pensword, Moonshade.”
“Uh, hi,” Spike greeted.
“Hey,” Hammer Strike chuckled. “I’ll leave you three to the experiment, as I planned on showing Luna the armor upgrade I performed for Moonshade.”
Celestia peered intently at the design. “Curious. It seems oddly familiar, but I can't quite place where I’ve seen it before.”
Hammer Strike hummed briefly. “Shouldn’t be, given I made the design myself.” He frowned. “Well, … given what you’ve mentioned before, I suppose it can be possible?”
“Luna will probably be able to tell you more. Armor is her specialty, after all.” She smiled. “I’m sure she’ll be glad to see you, too.”
“We’ll see, I suppose.”
A loud yawn greeted the group as Princess Luna strode into the room with the guard leading her. She wore none of her vestments this time, having only her astral mane and fur. Although smaller than her sister, she still carried herself with grace and precision that spoke of the warrior spirit within her, despite how dulled it may have been by her sleep.
“Well, not quite how I saw things going,” Hammer Strike commented softly.
“Good day,” Luna offered tiredly.
“Princess,” Pensword greeted. “Sorry for waking you.”
“It’s fine,” she said. “I understand it’s important?”
“I had hoped to have caught you more on the awake side, but I’ve completed Moonshade’s armor, and figured I’d bring it to you for your own review,” Hammer Strike spoke up, gesturing to Moonshade.
Luna looked over the design slowly, her eyes becoming clearer as she took it in. “This design is quite something. How did you finish it so soon?”
“I just … well, worked at my own pace.” Hammer Strike shrugged.
“This resembles the design my Thestrals wore in the Third Gryphon War,” she noted. “Nobody’s been able to replicate it.”
“Because the armor was lost?” Pensword asked.
“The design and the armor was lost. Or at least their original form and durability. There are some pieces that have survived. I checked when preparing to outfit my guards, but they’re not usable for proper combat anymore.”
“Nobody could recreate it?” Hammer Strike questioned.
“Not a soul.” She shook her head.
He hummed in thought briefly before finally asking, “... Who made it originally?”
“... You did.”
“Ah.” Hammer Strike blinked a few times. “I … guess I wouldn’t have left many blueprints for them.”
Luna lit her horn, bringing in an old rolled up parchment. “This is one of the very, very few schematics you ever left behind. People have tried for literal centuries to translate and decode it, but no one has been able to. You had a habit of using multiple languages in your encoding, including one that has no written equivalent known on Equis.” She floated the schematic to him.
Hammer Strike unrolled the parchment carefully and examined it a few times. Finally, he placed it on a nearby table and reached into his coat, pulling out a scroll. He unrolled it and proceeded to compare side by side. Careful scrutiny revealed the similar style of blueprint, down to the factor of using several languages. The older one, however, was dotted with languages that he hadn’t even seen yet. The most he could get out of it in a single sentence was a line at the bottom written in Latin wishing himself luck.
“Thanks, me,” he muttered sarcastically with a small nod. Finally, he sighed. “Yeah, that’s definitely a design from me.”
“So, you see what I mean. The armor was damaged over time and eventually lost its form when nobody could maintain it adequately ”
“Fair enough. I might need to look into some public blueprints. Or once I know all of the ciphers I use, a way to decrypt it.”
“Well then, as Lunar Princess, I’m going to commission two hundred suits of armor for the Lunar Guard,” she said. “To be delivered as soon as you can.”
“You…” Hammer Strike took a moment before rubbing the side of his head. “You do realize I’m not the same level of smith as my future/past self is, right?”
“I will not rush you. Take the time you need.” She smiled. “I have total faith in you.”
Hammer Strike sighed. “I’ll try. I’ll probably have to send for quite a number of shipments of metal. That, and this will take a lot of time. I’m only one stallion.”
“Time, we have. As for metal, just requisition whatever you need.”
“I’ll be sure to do so when I start.” He nodded. “Honestly, though, I had anticipated a test of the armor Moonshade’s wearing, not quite … being commissioned for two hundred of them.”
“I’m a fair judge of armor and weapons myself,” Luna noted. “I have a finely honed eye for quality. And I can definitely see the quality in this.”
“Fair enough.” Hammer Strike nodded. “In that case, that was the main thing I came over here to cover. If there is nothing else, we’ll leave you to your rest.”
“Very well.” Luna nodded with a yawn. “Let me know if you need anything more.”
The studio where Octavia Melody and her partner Vinyl Scratch resided had one extra occupant that afternoon as Grif looked over the cellist once more to stress the importance of his commission.
“So make sure you have those songs ready for New Year’s,” he said, then strode toward the door.
The gray mare nodded. “Rest assured, you can count on us. Music is our specialty.”
Grif nodded his thanks, then strode out into the afternoon sun. The snow sparkled with just a hint of slush running along the edges of the streets that lay beyond the path leading into the studio. “Well that’s everything for now,” he muttered to himself, then checked his watch. “And I’ve still got some time. Might as well hit the arcade.”
It didn’t take long to arrive. By now, he felt like an old hand in the air. When the warrior finally found his way inside the building, he was surprised to find a certain brown colt intently staring at a flashing screen. A sign on the side of the machine said that the game would go to the one with the highest score after two days. One could see that the cabinet was a little dinged, and it looked old. Still, it seemed like Button Mash was working hard to beat the score that was taped under the sign.
“How goes the battle?” Grif asked his friend as he approached.
Button Mash grunted as he moved a joystick and tapped a few buttons in rapid succession to keep raising his score. It wasn’t exactly a greeting, but it was close enough for a gamer in the zone who couldn’t afford to break away. It was a greeting Grif understood only too well, having been there himself a few times.
“Good to hear.” Grif smiled and made his way toward the inner part of the arcade. He hadn’t been able to come here as much as he would have liked. But even in those few short times, he had identified several strangely similar games. He looked over at a filly playing Wrench Brothers. Another foal was playing Barrel Tosser, featuring Pipe Wrench. Pac-Pony ate its way to victory in one corner, and even Pong appeared to be a popular game.
As he continued to browse, the Gryphon heard a crow of victory from the front. Grif couldn’t help but chuckle at the sound, and more importantly the sight as the victorious colt leaped so high that he could be seen above the rest of the consoles, even as his beanie cap whirled and buzzed with his excitement. Having not decided on a game just yet, Grif decided to return to the front and congratulate his young friend in person.
“So who had that score anyway?” he asked.
“Button Bash.” Button Mash continued to grin “I beat it. I beat it all on my own. And now I get to play it whenever I want at home!” The elation lasted for all of five more seconds before it dimmed, and he frowned. “But I have to keep the top score till the contest ends today, and I’ve gotta go home soon. Mom doesn’t like it when I’m late. He looked pained for a moment as he fished out a small bag from beside the console. It jingled suggestively with the sound of bits. “I earned it, but if someone else takes it, I don’t know if I can come back in time to win it back.” He swallowed heavily. “If … if I give you half my allowance, can you play the game for me till the arcade closes?”
“Keep your money Button.” Grif laughed as he took up position at the control panel. “Actually, you know what? Don’t keep it. Buy Sweetie Belle a milkshake instead.”
Button blinked in confusion. “If it means keeping my score and getting my own arcade cabinet, then I’ll do anything. I still don’t get why you want me to do that for Sweetie Belle, though.”
“Oh, I have my reasons,” Grif promised mischievously. “Go. Run. I’ll take care of things here.”
Button Mash hugged the Gryphon. “Thanks again, Grif. You’re always around to save the day.” Then he dashed out the arcade and into the streets, only to topple a few moments later. The crash could be heard inside the arcade, but it was soon followed by, “Hey, a bit!”
Grif chuckled to himself as he looked at the screen and booted up the game for the first time with the rhythmic sound of a coin falling through its slot. “You done good, Grif. Now you just need to concentrate on losing…”
Pensword strode into the Punch Bowl with a frown on his face as he read over the letter Moonshade had left for him at the parade grounds. Once again, the mare had taken her mandatory sleep day to maintain her body’s functions. But it seemed she still had something she wanted the Pegasus to do.
Meet me in the cellar tonight. There are some things we need to talk about.
~ Major Moonshade
“Things we need to talk about,” Pensword mused to himself as he strode toward an expectant Berry Punch. “Does it have something to do with the troops?”
“Get down there and maybe you’ll find out,” Berry said. “And another thing. Don’t get any ideas and start opening my bottles while you’re down there. I have a firm look but don’t touch policy.”
Pensword saluted with a wing. “Yes, Ma’am,” he promised. “But … why would you expect us to open your wares without permission, let alone without paying?”
Berry groaned and rolled her eyes. “Colts.” She raised the door separating her side of the counter from Pensword’s side. “Just get down there. It’s not polite to keep a lady waiting.”
“... Yes, Ma’am,” Pensword replied again, albeit slower this time. He wasn’t sure what he’d done to get on the mare’s nerves, but he knew better than to tempt fate and potentially make it worse when she had been housing them for such a long time.
The stairs were dim, but not dark, thanks to the light that poured down from above and a softer light emanating from the bottom of the stairs. A single dusty round table sat with a pair of wooden chairs waiting to be used. A small cluster of candles at varying stages of melting were bunched together on a grimy metal platter already speckled with the remnants of their predecessors. Moonshade wasn’t in her armor this time, and the sight of her glossy fur and luminous eyes made Pensword’s heart jump somewhere between anxiety and something else he couldn’t quite put his metaphorical finger on.
“Major,” he greeted her formally as he removed his helmet and placed it on the table. “I came as soon as I could. You said you needed to speak with me?”
“I realized that we should probably go over some things you should know as Pensword,” she explained.
“I assume you mean more than what history books and a few fights have taught me,” Pensword guessed. His heart rate slowed, but for some reason, he felt a sense of … almost disappointment? “I assume this will take a while, given the fact you had chairs prepared,” he said as he sat down. “Where did you want to begin?”
“Well let's start with the basics of Thestral culture and what makes it different from Pegasus culture.”
Pensword nodded. “Whenever you’re ready.”
“First of all, whereas military ability is first and foremost in Pegasus culture, family is paramount to Thestrals,” she explained. “Every grouping is treated as family, be they actual families, villages, tribes, etc.”
“So all Thestrals treat each other as brothers and sisters without exception?” Pensword asked.
“There are always outliers.” She shook her head. “But yes, for the most part.”
“Okay, so what next?”
“Seeing as we are omnivores with leanings to carnivores, we tend to hunt in large groups. We get what meat we can from insects or animals, though fruit bats in particular are generally a prized meal for us.”
“I’m guessing that’s part of why a lot of Ponies usually were scared of you?” Pensword guessed.
She nodded. “Same reason they’re scared of Gryphons and other carnivores.”
“But has any Thestral actually ever done that before?”
“Of course not. At least not in any history we hold. And that goes back a very long way.” She shook her head. “But Ponies tend to spread stories.”
“We’ve noticed that,” Pensword said. “I believe Zecora is an example, if memory serves.”
She nodded. “The Pegasi once had personal issues with us being warriors, as they are as well, so that also led to problems.”
“Wouldn’t they respect you as fellow warriors rather than trying to hurt you, though?”
“You’d think so, but Pegasi are very prideful.”
“So I’ve noticed,” Pensword admitted. “Rainbow Dash keeps blowing her horn and talking about ‘twenty percent cooler.’”
“She’s harmless,” Moonshade laughed.
“I meant the pride part, Moonshade,” Pensword deadpanned.
“Fair enough.” The Thestral shrugged. “Still, we made some progress up until Princess Luna fell.”
“And then?”
“Well, between Princess Luna's fall to the nightmare and a few of our kind being corrupted by its power, Ponies became untrusting. A good deal of our tribes as a whole left to hide with only a small number staying to wait for the princess’ return.”
“And I’m guessing that with her gone, those Ponies returned to the old ways of government for Thestrals?”
“For the most part, yes.”
“So the family decided to work together to protect itself. But ... if everyone is a brother or sister, then how do they decide who leads?”
“Combat usually, though smaller clans within a tribe also have other methods.”
“And how many tribes are there within the Thestral tribe? The main ones, I mean. I know you said that the tribes sort of break down into smaller ones.”
“I think we went over this once already in that history book I gave you, but I’ll do it again to refresh your memory. The seven main tribes in our clans are the bear, the dragon, the lion, the serpent, the fox, the wolf, and the manticore. They make up the principle tribes of Thestral civilization. And all are led by the Great Bear.”
“So, the Bear Tribe leads the rest?”
She chuckled. “No. They are the lesser bear,” she explained. “The Great Bear is the ursa major. It’s symbolic of the rare time we have a high chief.”
“The main leader?” Pensword guessed.
She nodded. “Princess Luna is the one who occupies that office now.”
“What happens when you don’t have a high chief, then?”
“The tribal chiefs run things as a council.”
“And what happens if a tribe member doesn’t agree with a course of action decided by their chief?”
“It will be talked about, but in the end, the chiefs have the final say.”
“Are there many rogue Thestrals in your history?” Pensword asked curiously.
“Not a lot, but a few.” She shrugged. “No species is perfect, after all.”
Pensword nodded. “I think that’s a universal fact.”
“There are a few other things to discuss, of course, but for now, I think it would be appropriate to shift our focus to the history of Thestrals associated with your namesake.” She smiled then. “Tell me, human, have you ever heard of a place called Mountainside Falls?”
The rapid beat of hammer against wood drifted over the parade grounds of the makeshift fortress as Pensword flew lazily toward the compound. Now that he’d adjusted to his wings, the itch to fly had become almost instinctive. The active flow of magic through his wings and body was at once relaxing and stimulating. No wonder Rainbow Dash preferred the clouds. “Not that I’d ever admit that little epiphany,” he murmured with a smirk. That was when he noticed a familiar black shape and several smaller pastelle shapes flitting around the bare-bones structure of … something at least three stories tall. Closer inspection revealed even more workers shoring up the base, along with a much taller bipedal figure in a familiar blue coat carrying a satchel that looked full to bursting at the seams that was harnessed to his body. The glint of cold steel shone dully in the winter sun as Ponies carried far smaller pouches and saddlebags to add to the growing pile of processed ore waiting for whatever job the smith lord had in mind. The other Ponies sighed in relief as they were relieved of their burdens. Pensword couldn’t help but balk, however, when he saw the sheer volume Shawn had been carrying using nothing but the strength of his back and torso. The air rang with the clatter of steel, even as Pensword flew at a speed almost akin to Grif’s initial dive to defeat Rainbow Dash in the race to Ponyville.
“What the flaming Tartarus are you doing?” Pensword’s voice came out practically in a squawk as he zipped around his friend to check for any potential strains or injuries.
“Now, I’m not an expert, but I believe the proper term is … hauling?” Grif said as he descended on the excited Pegasus. “Oh, wait, no, he’s actually in charge. That’d probably be overseeing.” The Gryphon raised a brow at Pensword’s frantic behavior. “Relax, Pensword. Lord Shawn is fine. He’s been hauling that much for at least five trips now.”
“Five trips? Bad enough that it was just one!”
“He’s fine, Pensword.” Grif rolled his eyes. “Tell him you’re fine, m’lord. Otherwise, he’s liable to go into one of his fits and start throwing his weight around.”
“I’ll be fine, Pensword,” Shawn remarked with a sigh. “This isn’t even straining me.”
“I’d expect this of an Earth Pony, not a human. Do you have any idea the number of muscles and joints you could be destroying right now?”
“We should probably carry on as normal till he wraps his head around it,” Grif suggested. “That, or we can threaten to bring Pinkie Pie into it.”
“Don’t you dare!” Pensword said quickly.
“Then calm down, Pensword. He’s fine. Something about a unique form of magic he can use,” Grif said pointedly.
Pensword blinked in surprise. “Magic?”
Grif sighed and settled to the ground. “While he works out what we’re trying to say, how about we get down to designs for ease of descent? I’m thinking zip lines.”
“That will have to come later, as we’d need proper anchors and such.” Shawn frowned. “Then there’s the fact not everyone can exactly use it, and the one suggesting it can fly.”
“It’s still cool. Besides, I think the humans would appreciate it.”
“No, Grif.”
Grif sighed regretfully. “All right. How about dumbwaiters, then? Gotta get food up to those people manning the mechanism somehow. And the convenience makes it even better. Otherwise, you’ll have to rely on someone who can levitate the food, soldiers’ rations, or Pegasi constantly flying back and forth with the meals and dishes.”
“That, … actually can work.” Shawn nodded. “Though I’ll need to come up with a design for it.”
“You could always enhance the current designs the kingdom has instead. It’s easier than starting from scratch,” Pensword said. “And we could also install them in the barracks potentially if we keep building more floors for them, too.”
“Welcome back, Pensword.” Grif grinned.
“I’m still upset with you two,” Pensword groused.
“It’s not like we had time to tell you with all those meetings you’ve been having with a certain Major lately,” Grif teased.
“Just what is all this about, anyway?” Pensword asked, smoothly dodging the Gryphon’s pointed remark.
“Oh, I wonder.” Shawn chuckled as he went about his work.
“Are you two trying to insinuate something here?” Pensword asked suspiciously.
“I don’t know. Are we trying to insinuate something?” Grif asked Shawn.
“Again. Oh, I wonder,” Shawn repeated.
“If one of you doesn't tell me what you’re doing, I’ll order one of the workers to,” Pensword said with just a hint of a sulk.
“We’re building the skeleton of the modular bridge and gatehouse,” Shawn explained. “I need to ensure everything works out correctly in space, rather than just on paper.”
“And the steel is for a portcullis?” Pensword guessed.
“We’re not fully recreating it here, but it will be used in the reinforcement of several parts.”
“Does that mean the forge is finally functional here?”
“The Ponyville Outpost has a fully operational forge at last.”
“Why is it that whenever you bring up forges, you always seem to smile?”
“Why is it that whenever we bring up trains, you grin like the Cheshire cat?” Grif countered the Pegasus.
“Touché, Grif. Touché. But please, at least tell me that we’re following proper safety guidelines,” the Pegasus pleaded.
“Of course we are.” Shawn smirked, then spoke in English. “A shame OSHA doesn’t exist here.”
Pensword’s left eye began to twitch with just a hint of a raise of his lips on the left side of his muzzle to expose the teeth. “I … I … I think I finally understand how Twilight feels when these attacks come on.”
“I can give you a hard smack if that’ll help. Usually works for most technology I’ve encountered,” Grif noted. “And most heads.”
Shawn chuckled. “Percussion Maintenance works on people too, after all.”
“Don’t you dare!” Pensword raised his wings, ready to take flight. Curiously enough, the twitching stopped in the same instant.
“And there we go. He’s cured. By the way, m’lord, you owe me fifty bits,” Grif said with a triumphant smirk.
Shawn didn’t bother to reply. He just reached into his coat and tossed a small sack at the Gryphon.
“You’re too kind, m’lord,” Grif said with a mocking bow. “I’ll make sure to return any extra to your chest.”
“I take no responsibility if the overflow falls atop of you and causes harm.”
“... Just how long have you two been waiting for me to have a breakdown?” Pensword asked.
“...When did we arrive in Ponyville again?” Shawn asked Grif.
“Months ago.”
“Yeah, that long.”
Pensword snorted his frustration and stomped a hoof. “We still need to meet proper safety levels. I don’t want to be responsible for putting somepony in the hospital if something goes wrong with the model.”
“Oh, don’t worry, everyone else is following proper safety protocol. We are still subject to the crown’s laws, after all, and that includes building codes.”
“Magically reinforced equipment included,” Grif added as he pointed at Shawn’s carrying sack. “How else do you think this thing didn’t give into the weight and bulk before?”
Pensword sighed in defeat. “Then carry on, I guess. Unless you two could use an extra set of hooves?”
“I think we’ve got this down.” Shawn hummed as he looked over the remaining parts and materials for the project. “Shouldn’t take much longer as is.”
Pensword nodded. “Then I guess I’ll leave you to it. I need to check on my troops anyway before Moonshade and I coordinate on next steps and a potential social studies course to add to the curriculum.”
Shawn and Grif shared a knowing smile.
The occasion was hardly a solemn one. Daylight streamed through the windows, and the cheerful warmth of the library and its many books was a welcome comfort. Tea and cocoa steamed on their trays and saucers while the Ponies gathered in their respective places. However, one could easily cut the tension in the room with a knife. Princess Luna and Celestia sat calmly as they always did. They didn’t have to do a thing to intimidate most Ponies. Their sheer royal presence and the aura of power they wielded often stunned most Ponies. Though they still loved, trusted, and adored their monarchs.
Mayor Mare, however, was still not used to dealing with royalty. And though she had overcome the trauma of Nightmare Moon’s visit, that did not always make it easy when dealing with Princess Luna’s visits. One can move beyond an event, but the memories can still linger and trigger with the proper stimulus. Naturally, this simply meant the three leaders would need to act on common ground to help break that tension properly. And as a tactician, Luna knew just where to start.
“Sister, I was wondering, where should we hold the New Year’s Celebration?” Even as she asked, she looked curiously at the board game that had been left behind in Twilight’s haste to give the princesses the room they needed for their audience with Mayor Mare.
“I’m afraid I’m not familiar with the venues here at Ponyville. I’ve only stayed here a few times before. Mayor Mare?” Celestia asked. “What would you suggest?”
“To be honest, I was trying to figure that out myself,” Mayor Mare replied nervously. “The community hall isn’t big enough to handle the sudden influx of ponies.”
Celestia winced. “I’m afraid that may have been my fault,” she admitted. “I hope the staff I sent to assist Lord Shawn in his work haven’t been too troublesome to house.”
“Oh, no, not at all!” Mayor Mare said hastily. “Ponyville tends to gather more guests around New Year’s naturally. It’s just that, in most cases, it’s mainly just extended families, like the Apple Family. This year just happens to be a bit more than usual.”
“Perhaps we could see if Lord Shawn would be willing to allow us to use his barracks as a venue?” Celestia suggested. “Military installations are generally well built and can accommodate large numbers.”
“If they’ve built it according to the more recent traditional plans, then I imagine it should have a gathering hall of adequate size,” Luna mused before taking a sip of coco and sighing contentedly. “I really must give my thanks to the Cakes before we leave. Their marshmallows are enough to send me into the dream realm and back again.”
Celestia nodded. “I suppose it’s a possibility.” Then she frowned. “Though they seem to have been doing a great deal of construction lately. I’m not certain whether they would be considered safe to allow the public near or not.”
“Lord Shawn sent in a request for that a week ago. Though it was only for a section of land a small distance away from the installation. I haven’t seen it personally, but he listed it as a testing ground for something … modular?”
“If it can be seen from above, I wonder what he has in mind. Do you think it might have something to do with plans for the castle?” Luna asked.
“I’m sorry, but I couldn’t give you the answer for that one. Honestly, it’s been quite strange to even have a military installation added to Ponyville in the first place.”
“I assume it has been useful overall, however. Not only for the sake of an added defense for Ponyville, but also from an economical perspective, provided proper respect is given to those who live here. Have the trainees been treating you well?” Luna asked.
“At first, they were a little … difficult to interact with. However, after some time passed, they settled into their roles and have been giving proper respect.”
“We’re glad to hear it,” Celestia said with a reassuring smile. “You and your citizens might be able to give those troops a run for their money, regardless, after living and thriving so close to the Everfree Forest for such a long time.”
“There have certainly been some interesting times.” Mayor Mare nodded. “I’m sure it took the founders some time before they could make this town stable to live in, and now there’s to be a town rebuilt within the Everfree Forest. I can only wonder how they’ll all manage. The three humans, Lord Shawn, Matthew, and Taze, seem comfortable with the idea. And it seems like it spread to the others as well.” She pulled at her cravat. “Though I certainly wasn’t expecting literal legends to arrive in the town shortly after them. And to join in as well.”
“Lord Hammer Strike and his companions have always been full of surprises.” Luna smiled wistfully. “It is part of why we love him so much. And why we have missed him over the years.”
“I certainly see that. Within his first week of being here, I heard tales of him destroying a training dummy by accident, followed by showing up a smith who sounded quite … conflicting to work with.” Mayor Mare frowned. “Though the previous part does make me remember something. Has something happened to Matthew? I don’t believe anyone in town has seen him since his visit to Canterlot weeks ago.”
“Unfortunately, his health has taken a turn for the worse. He is under the very best of care, but there is sadly only so much that we can do for him in his current state, given the unique circumstances that surround his ailment,” Celestia replied.
“Oh. I … wish him the best in his recovery. I suppose that explains why the others have been working so hard.” She frowned.
“In part,” Luna agreed. “It is important to know that he still lives, however. And that gives them all hope as well. In time, we may yet find a cure. And I am confident that when we do, it will be as though he never left.” To divert attention away from the grim topic and to keep the mayor from pondering the implications further, Luna quickly segwayed. “Speaking of preserving life and wellbeing, however, one does wonder. Why haven’t you requested the presence of guards from the capital to defend your homes in the event of an incursion from the forest’s denizens?”
“It was partially due to the budget, and partially due to the nature of the town. We’ve been self reliant for some time, and haven’t needed to request a guard presence. I will admit, though, recent activity from the forest may make everypony think again about it.”
“If this training program succeeds, perhaps we might be able to incorporate some of the graduates here to see how they stand or fall without certain influences to get in the way,” Luna noted, looking pointedly at her sister as she took another sip of her coco.
“That would depend entirely on whether or not Mayor Mare and the Apples agree,” Celestia said. “But I will admit I’m not against the idea. However, Mayor Mare, I hope you won’t take that as a request or an order. The authority is yours in this case. And I have no intention of trampling over it.”
“I’ll have a meeting about it and see where the opinions of all stand.” Mayor Mare nodded.
“A sensible course of action,” Celestia agreed. “And much easier to do in a town of honest Ponies compared to the games the nobles play back in Canterlot.”
“I have heard the stories of the … difficulties with some nobility of Canterlot.”
Celestia shrugged. “Such is the nature of government. It’s always messy when Ponies break into parties.”
“Did somepony say PARTY?” Pinkie Pie appeared seemingly out of nowhere in a shower of confetti as she blew a party horn to emphasize her arrival.
“Is this a part of the famous Pinkie sense in action?” Luna asked.
Pinkie Pie shook her head. “My party sense is completely different. Ooh, cocoa!” She quickly brought out a piping bag and squirted a generous helping of whipped cream into Luna’s mug. “I already talked with the Apples about using their barn since everypony’s gonna want to see you, Princess,” the mare pointed out to Celestia. “We can have games, and party favors, and icecream, and cake!” She licked her lips and sighed contentedly as the daydream overcame her. “Creamy, creamy frosting….”
“Sister, I know Twilight Sparkle already tried to analyze Miss Pie to … amusing results, to say the least. But are you sure we shouldn’t have someone more experienced run some tests?” Luna asked.
Celestia shook her head. “It would be extremely rude. Pinkie Pie is a hero of the realm, after all. And if her sense can be of use to the residents of Ponyville, then I think she should embrace her gift and use it to the best of her ability.”
“That’s me all right! Baking tiers and spreading cheers all over Ponyville. I am the giggle that brightens your day. I am the cupcake that makes you smile after a twelve-hour shift! I. AM. Pinkie Pie!” With each phrase, she zoomed toward each of the table’s occupants in turn, manifesting a tablecloth to form a makeshift cape as she carried on with her dramatics until the very end when she flung the cloth off to reveal her party cannon behind her pointed upward to blast the air with confetti and a light show paired perfectly with her incredibly wide trademark Pinkie grin.
Celestia chuckled. “You don’t need to impress us, Pinkie Pie. We already know your skills.”
“Oh, that wasn’t for you. That was for them.” She waved her hoof in greeting toward a random place, winked, then returned to the three leaders. “Now, let’s get ready to PARTY!”
Mayor Mare looked to the Princesses, smiled, and shrugged. “Shall we begin?”
The night air was cold and empty, the sky devoid of most clouds. The Pegasi on weather duty had made sure of it before they went to bed. It was a night rendered quiet by the nature of the cold and the muffling blanket of snow. All the lands were asleep below. But the starry heavens above burned bright with light and life in the midst of that strange sleep. A dream, perhaps, for the land to enjoy as it waited for the day when it could spring forth again.
Pensword crept through that stillness with the aid of his wings and what practice he had been able to manage in his free time. The art of stealth did not come easily, as Moonshade was only too happy to remind him during their lesson tonight. Now that he had parted from her company, he found himself feeling … strangely empty. And in that emptiness, he felt the digging of spades as the faces of his mother, father, uncle, and other family flooded his thoughts until the wellspring was tapped, unleashing tears to fall from his eyes. “I missed Christmas with you. Are you all okay?” he murmured to himself, even as he gazed at his hoof, an appendage so alien to the hands he’d been raised with. He would never see those fingers again.
So caught up was he in this sudden wave of melancholy and homesickness that he didn’t recognize the irregularity for several minutes.
The cloud wasn’t particularly big. It was just large enough for a Pegasus to build a small house on it. One might think a Pegasus could have built a temporary structure in order to rest for the night before moving on in their travels. Many Pegasi did that when they didn’t have the funds to afford public transport. However, such Pegasi would have been noted by the guards that surrounded Ponyville. And Moonshade never mentioned such a report.
This bore further research.
It didn’t take long to reach the top. The surface of the cloud was different compared to what he was used to. Rather than the fluffy sensation he had come to experience with clouds reinforced by magic, he felt a wet curtain, a true mist that writhed and sifted and roiled like a fog bank over a moore. And at the very heart of that curtain, a familiar structure stood as remote in its solitude as the stars shining above. It was a blue police box.
It was the blue police box.
“Not what I expected, but definitely better than the alternatives,” Pensword murmured. It was all too evident why the cloud had formed in a zone that was not meant to have any. The “magic” of science was at work.
Then came the loud creak as the door began to pull back on its hinges. Pensword leaped behind the box out of reflex as a strange figure emerged into the night. The body that stood on the cloud was that of an elderly Pegasus. His coat of fur was a pale gray that bordered on white, and the black in his mane and tail were faded with the countless years he had lived. It would appear that this incarnation was made to embody that infinite sense of tiredness that comes with the weight of all those years. He wore a gray turtleneck and a roosevelt cap that tipped down to shadow his eyes. As in all his incarnations, the symbol of an hourglass remained on his flank to identify him for his race and unique attributes. Here stood a Time Lord, The Lonely God, The Last Child of Gallifrey, The Doctor.
And he was, surprisingly, still alone.
The Doctor let out a tired sigh filled with not only the weight of his many years, but of a loss as deep and immovable as the rock of ages. “Happy Anniversary, Derpy.” He smiled sadly. “Four hundred and fifty. Can you believe it?” He sighed. “Our little girl’s gone off on her own adventures to save the universe now. You’d be real proud of her, you know. She’s a proper Time Mare. She’s even saved me a couple of times, if you can believe it. She takes after you like that.”
“I see I’m not the only one who’s missing his family tonight.”
The Doctor jumped in surprise at first until he saw Pensword’s cutie mark. “Oh, it’s you. I didn’t expect any of you to be here at this hour.”
Pensword shrugged. “Stealth lessons with Moonshade.”
“Stealth Lessons. Is that what you call them in the military these days?”
“Aren’t they in every era?” Pensword asked, confused at the doctor’s question.
“No, I’m fairly certain it’s usually called a date. How did you foals say it again? ‘I ship it?’”
“We’re not dating,” Pensword insisted flatly. “And I’d say my stealth must be improving. I surprised you, after all.”
The Doctor smiled. “You spent, or spend, a great deal of time with her in much more than your official capacity, Pensword. I know this isn’t your native culture, but customs are fairly similar between your *ahem* other incarnation and this one. Boy meets girl. Boy likes girl. Boy falls in love with girl. Boy discovers tragic circumstances that forbid their union. And ultimately, true love triumphs in the end….”
“What was that?”
“True love triumphs in the end?”
“Before that.”
“Boy meets girl.”
“After that.”
“Boy falls in love with girl.”
“Later.”
“True love triumphs?”
“... You know what, just forget it. I don’t think I want to know.”
“You will one day, though.” He looked up at the stars. “It really is a beautiful sight. I remember the first time I tried to explain what a star really is, and how it works, to Derpy.” A smile curled his lips and tweaked his eyes with the happy glow of a long-forgotten memory. “She likened them to bubbles. Bubbles, of all things!” He chuckled. “Bubbles come in all shapes and sizes, she said. And they shine to bring happiness to others. Absolutely remarkable, that mare.” Then he sighed. “I don’t think there’ll ever be anyone quite like her again.”
“Probably not,” Pensword agreed. “But there will be those who were touched by her. And what she taught them will spread like ripples in a pond. And one of those ripples, at least, has already turned into a wave from your perspective.”
“Look at you being optimistic.” He smiled. “I missed that about you. Hold onto that. You’ll need it where you’re going.”
“Knowing you, you won’t be any clearer than that dire foreshadowing, will you?”
“Naturally. That’s part of the fun. If I wanted to be cruel, I’d tell you what was coming. But,” he sighed, “that would be spoilers. I can tell you this much, though, you’re on the right track asking Luna about that change. Don’t put off the request for too long. You’ll need those skills you’re learning from your marefriend.”
“She’s just a friend.”
“Yes. A friend who’s a mare. That’s what I said.”
Pensword rolled his eyes. “I’m guessing you can’t tell me much about my family.”
“I can tell you they’re fine. And they will be fine in the future. Oh, they’ll have their ups and downs, but everyone does.”
“Thank you. That makes this at least a little bit easier.”
“There may be one more thing I can tell you. You can share it with the others if you like. Think of it as a thankyou for being here when I needed someone.” He rubbed his chin in thought. When he’d finally gotten things put together properly in his mind, he spoke. “Like me, you and your friends are on a journey. And it may seem long, challenging, and extremely strange, but it’s always going to one place and one time. For me, it was home. For you and your friends, it will be the same.”
“Will I ever be able to be human again?”
“I’m a Timelord. I change into something new every time I regenerate.” He shook his head. “Let me tell you something, Pensword. It doesn’t matter what form you’re in, what personality you take, what new habits you pick up. What matters, and always will, are the parts of you that you keep with you in every step. You may not remember them. You may not even be aware of them. But they’re always there, waiting for the right moment to show themselves. Don’t be afraid of change. It shouldn’t be a question of whether you’ll be human again. It should be a question of what you will choose to be next. I don’t usually get to make that choice. Not consciously, anyway.” He gave a rueful smile. “I still haven’t gotten to be a Zebra yet. You and your friends, however, do have choices. So don’t squander the opportunity with regrets and what-ifs. Life is important. And it’s something that should be lived, not worried or coddled over. Otherwise, you’ll miss the wonders that are right in front of you, just waiting to be explored. Even if they don't realize they’re asking to be.”
“Why do I get the feeling you’re not talking about the view anymore?” Pensword asked.
“Why indeed?” He looked up at the stars again. “I wonder. Yes, why, indeed.”
“Will I still be me? I mean, will Matthew still be one of those parts that carries over in all of this?”
“Funny thing about names.” The doctor laughed. “Ponies are so much different than Time Ponies when it comes to them. We can take but one name, and then a title. But a Pony can have many names, yet they are as dust to the winds of time. It’s almost unfair when you consider it.”
“Almost like having to say goodbye to someone you love?”
“No.” The Doctor shook his head. “That’s much worse. It’s more than unfair. It’s cruel. But it still needs to happen. Everything has its time. Everything ends. Someday, eventually, I may get to see her again, when I can finally rest too. But for now, I still have my name, my duty, and my path. I’m The Doctor. I can’t just stop being what I am because I’m sad. Derpy wouldn’t let me hear the end of it if I did.”
Pensword nodded as he sat next to The Doctor. “I suppose my family wouldn’t let me hear the end of it either if I didn’t keep trying to find a way back. Or at least a way forward. I know my loss isn’t the same as yours, Doctor. But I still want you to know that I’m sorry.”
The Doctor smiled. “Thank you, Matthew.”
Matthew chuckled. “You know, sometimes, it almost feels more natural to go by Pensword instead.”
“That’s because Matthew is never really gone. You’re one and the same, Pensword. Try to remember that if you can. It may help you later.”
Extended Holiday Chapter 29: The Colour of Noble Pony Blood
“Okay, so Heavy Set and Demolition Grenado, you're here mainly because it was unanimously voted that you two scare the living Tartarus out of everypony back at the fort,” Grif said, looking at the two Earth Ponies. The first stood at roughly Big Macintosh's height, and was very buff. His mane was almost fully shaved off, and his tail was short and cut jaggedly. It almost looked like it had been chopped by a machete. His coat was a gunmetal gray with red covering his legs, and the same red on his tail. A heavy crossbow most Ponies would call a ballista rested on his back. The name Sasha had been carved into the side of the weapon.
“Why do people find me scary?” Heavy Set asked in a thick Russian accent.
“Ah, don’t be taking it too seriously, lad. Some Ponies just have no good sense,” Demolition Grenado said before taking a swig from a glass bottle of … a liquid Grif couldn’t quite identify. This Pony’s fur coat was a deep brown with a black mane and tail. His left eye was covered by a black eyepatch, and he held a pair of saddlebags that were literally loaded with grenados. “We’re ready tae scare the pants off the blueblooded horse.” He smiled and barked a laugh as he took another swig.
“Anything else to declare?” Grif asked.
“I’m drunk,” Demolition Grando said proudly. The Pony then proceeded to pass out on the spot.
“Okay, … I’m going back over there now,” Grif said before rejoining Hammer Strike a short distance away to report his findings. “So, they have about as much sanity as you get sleep at night,” he conceded. “They still scare practically anyone into submission, though.”
“Good. I needed to keep nobles away anyways,” Hammer replied. “I’d prefer not to deal with some of them.”
“Agreed. And the one we least want to deal with is the one we’re going to meet,” Grif noted. “Irony is evil.”
“Why is irony evil?” Pensword asked as he descended dressed in the armor and wingblades Hammer Strike had forged for him, including the new modifications and sword. An aquamarine cloak that was most definitely not Hammer Strike’s design but still seemed to match the garb perfectly settled behind his wingblades. The faint scent of perfume left little doubt about the designer, particularly since the three of them had only ever visited one seamstress’ shop in all of Equestria. He looked almost like a medieval hero had jumped out of a comic book, but the gleeful smile he now sported spoke louder than words that he didn’t mind.
Moonshade soon alighted next to him. At Pensword’s urging, she’d left Silver Spear as temporary commander of the forces back at camp to give him leadership experience. Now she stood decked in the full armor Hammer Strike had designed for her, ready for whatever enemies might come their way. True to military custom, the two saluted Hammer Strike before returning to a more casual posture.
Grif shrugged. “We’re putting up people to deter nobles from visiting or even getting near us to interfere while we’re in Canterlot. But we still have to go directly to one on their turf instead. Like I said, evil.” He turned to look inquiringly at his lord. “Hammer Strike, where’s Rarity? I thought she was supposed to be coming with us today. Did something come up?”
“I’ll go get her. I have a feeling I know why she’s late.” The stallion started down the street in the direction of the familiar building and called over his shoulder. “Meet us at the train station.”
“See you there,” Grif agreed, then turned his full attention on the two flyers. “So, are you two ready for this?” he asked as he laid Demolition Grenado across Heavy’s back, then began the trek to the station.
“I think so. I’m both dreading and anticipating it,” Pensword said. “This can give me valuable diplomatic experience, and it’ll give us insight into the inner workings of the courts and politics here that we weren’t privy to before.” He smirked. “Besides, I’m just the hired muscle. That means I can pick up gossip from the other servants if we’re not allowed to attend the festivities.”
Moonshade smirked. “Now you’re thinking like a tactician. Most Ponies don’t care much for the Bluebloods. And you already saw how the former staff were treated. Getting the new staff to talk shouldn’t be too hard as long as you’re careful.”
Pensword smiled. “Thank you. I couldn’t have asked for a better compliment.”
“I meant every word of it.” She hefted a thick tome from her saddlebag. The cover was embossed in gold with the symbol of a flying soldier holding its spear against the throat of a Gryphon. “I’ll make a commander of you yet.”
Pensword chuckled and shook his head. “I might have known we’d be doing more studying along the way.” Then he grinned. “You know me so well.”
Moonshade allowed herself a reserved smile, albeit one that was far more expressive than what she displayed in their first few encounters. Then she cleared her throat and opened to a particular bookmarked page “‘Pensword was a magnificent commander in House Strike’s employ. He embodied the pivotal Pegasus soldier, at one point leading the siege of one of the principal border forts during the Third Gryphon War.’”
“More combat.” He sighed. “Don’t get me wrong. I admire what he accomplished, but weren’t there at least a few situations recorded in history that showed his diplomatic side? A military commander who stands only below the princesses and certain nobles must have used those skills somewhere. And no matter how strong a person is, if they can’t win a war of words, then they’re going to lose a lot more than their pride in the end.”
Moonshade scanned through the book, flicking rapidly through the pages and stopping occasionally before resuming the search. Finally, she nodded and looked back at him and their surroundings. “Yes. According to the book here, Commander Pensword held his own on the political side of things as well. It wasn’t as glorious as his battle record, but he always noted how a field of battle was more than swords and spears in open terrain.” She raised a brow and smirked. “Curious, isn’t it, how you just said something so very similar?”
“I suppose great minds think alike.”
Grif smirked. “Yes, especially if they’re the same person.”
“Please don’t bring up time travel, Grif. I really don’t need the headache today,” Pensword pleaded. “We still don’t know for sure whether these books are really about us or not.”
Grif shrugged. “I don’t care whether it is or isn’t. It doesn’t matter what I believe. What matters is if I’m prepared to play the part. I’m glad to see that you’re thinking along the same lines.”
“We all appreciate the old adage. ‘Hope for the best, plan for the worst,’” Pensword agreed. “At the very least, if the Bluebloods do try anything to throw us off, we’ll be ready to respond.
“Prince Blueblood won’t be an obstacle,” Moonshade assured them. “He’s a pompous brat who screams at the very idea of getting so much as a smudge on his ‘royal personage.’” She rolled her eyes. “He knows how to give lip service to get what he wants, and that’s about it. His father, on the other hoof, is not one to be trifled with. That will be your true enemy to face.
Pensword smirked. “As I am fairly certain Sir Grif would say, it will be fun to see him fail.”
They soon arrived at the familiar station platform, where Moonshade and Pensword continued their discussions, talking about some of the finer points of the war with Grif chiming in occasionally to add some perspective from his own research on the subject. After a while, two figures could be seen walking toward the platform. Rarity walked in the lead with Hammer Strike trailing only slightly behind. He carried six large trunks on his back, and the pair were engaged in animated conversation, despite the massive bags’ very sincere attempt to break the Pony’s back and flatten him like a pancake.
“Those look heavy,” Grif noted.
“I keep on forgetting how strong an Earth Pony can be.” Pensword shook his head in disbelief. “Reminds me of my aunt when she packs.”
Rarity smiled with practiced gentility and grace. “Good morning, everypony.”
“‘Sup?” Hammer Strike greeted more casually. His face retained the same blank mask for which he had become so famous, even as he continued to stand patiently without lowering the bags to the ground.
“Isn’t that a little much, Rarity?” Grif asked of the mare as he gestured toward the tower of luggage. “We’re only going to be there for a night.”
Rarity smiled coyly. “One never knows what one might need at Canterlot, darling. Besides, who else can you trust to make sure your clothes are properly fitted and tailored for the main event? And if you make a good impression, it’s entirely possible that we could be asked to extend our stay.”
“Which it seems I will be doing,” Hammer Strike said. “Apparently, news spreads fast in the kingdom, and I was sent a request to visit a couple of other members of the nobility, on top of the second invitation from the Bluebloods.” He sighed. “Of course, you don’t need to stay, as they are not Blueblood, and are more tame from what I remember.”
“I’ll keep my schedule open,” Pensword replied. “Who knows? I might be asked to be a guest of honor at some military ball or unit meeting or something. We’re all technically war heroes, after all..”
“Okay, so two nights. I stand corrected,” Grif said. “Still seems a bit much.”
Rarity beamed with her sweetest smile. “You sound just like Rainbow Dash. Not everypony can live out of one suitcase for a weekend, you know.” She chuckled as she turned around to see a familiar purple dragon with green scales. It didn’t take long for the air to be pierced by her squee of delight, followed by seizing Spike in a fierce embrace between her forelegs. “So Twilight did let you come along. Oh, my little Spikey Wikey.”
Such close contact and attention quickly reduced the young Dragon to the equivalent of goo as he replied. “Aw, shucks, Rarity.” A scroll clattered to the floor as his arms went limp with ecstasy. Grif quickly picked it up and opened the seal to scan the contents.
“Sun Butt’s coming with us?” he asked, raising a skeptical brow.
Spike smiled dazedly as Rarity placed him back on the ground. He swayed and raised a claw in acknowledgement of the question. “Yup. She wants to help us through some of the checkpoints that have been set up since the invasion.”
“No hero passes?” Grif asked. “I mean, Changelings can’t exceed their weight, and I weigh significantly more than one of them.”
“Now, Grif, what better pass could you have than a princess?” Celestia asked as she descended and alighted gracefully on the platform, followed shortly after by her usual escort of guards. “Besides, I want the nobles to know that you three are important to me. Better to set things straight from the start than risk any … messy misunderstandings. Luna’s return has helped me to reduce the shadow games the court plays, but it’s impossible to stop every scheme in the kingdom. And even if I wanted to, Luna has no intention of using her ability to enter the minds of Ponies in their sleep to steal their secrets.” As if by magic, the doors to the train practically slammed open, implying an eagerness to receive the honor of having the royal pass through. “There’s also the matter of my nephew’s scheming. I don’t do it often, but sometimes it’s necessary to remind him and the other nobles not to exceed their grasp.”
“‘Cause he doesn’t stand a chance in Everfree?” Grif guessed.
“That, and I’d rather not subject Ponyville to his unique brand of snobbery.” Celestia sighed. “He wasn’t always this way, but if you could have seen his behavior at the last Galla….” She shook her head. “Besides, there are other things to consider. This is a place where Twilight found her calling. Even now, she’s beginning to forge a path toward her own destiny. I don’t want interference from the nobles to turn her aside from that course. It’s why I put my hoof down when Prince Blueblood tried to come here.”
“Makes sense,” Hammer said. He was still standing with the trunks on his back. The only sign of any form of discomfort was the light shrug of his shoulders. Glancing back, he raised a questioning brow at Rarity. “Now where do these go?”
“Guards, take the trunks from Lord Hammer Strike and load them in the cargo section,” Grif ordered Heavy and Demo, who had finally managed to regain his consciousness, if not full sobriety. The two took the luggage and set off, grumbling under their breath.
“Thanks,” Hammer said. This time, he gave his shoulders a full roll on each side and cracked his neck.
Pensword smiled warmly. “It never gets old, getting to ride on a train someplace. The clickety clack of the rails, the swaying of the car, the jerking of acceleration and deceleration….” He sighed contentedly. “Or the smell of burning coal. I think trains are the best tech invented in my lifetime.”
“And to think, I purchased extra tickets as a just-in-case,” Hammer said, looking around at a surprisingly unoccupied platform.
“I’ll make sure Blueblood reimburses the cost,” Celestia promised, then smirked. “After all, he is your host. He should anticipate such things.”
Grif still didn’t like Celestia. But he had to admire artistry when it emerged. There was a reason why people on Earth had granted her the moniker Trollestia. He gave the barest nod toward the princess to express his approval.
Pensword was more open than his friend. “Are you sure you aren’t a tactician, Princess?” he asked, even as he strode onto the train car and settled on one of the cushioned seats. Moonshade sat down next to him, and the pair were soon engrossed, even as the others followed behind.
Celestia laughed. “Military tactics are Luna’s specialty. Mine lies in the field of politics. Each is a battlefield in its own right, but they require different methods to compete with the enemy faction.”
“Doesn’t Equestria rely primarily on the Commander for that responsibility?” Pensword asked, then let loose with a startled whinny. “No. You cannot be serious. What’s the deal with the Dragon and the pitchfork? Is this some kind of joke?”
“Few can fight with a dragon,” Celestia noted. “Fewer still while wielding a simple farm implement.” Then she laughed. “You know, I think that Dragon is still alive somewhere today.”
Pensword gaped at her. “How?”
Celestia shrugged. “Bravery, I assume. And probably a great deal of courage. The Pensword I knew was someone willing to do anything for his people’s sake. It’s one reason why the Thestrals came to respect him so much, despite not killing an ursa major. He was no High Chieftain, but he was instrumental in bringing those troops to our side when we needed them most.”
Pensword frowned as he stared at the page. The commander’s ear guards were spiked at the top, just like the tufts of a Thestral as he soared into battle. And as the train finally lurched forward, jerking him toward the picture, he couldn’t help but feel like he was being pulled ever closer toward an encounter he wasn’t sure he would have the strength to face. He swallowed heavily. “Into the belly of the beast,” he murmured.
“So yeah, it’s called Death by Chocolate. It’s a real cake,” Grif told the princess. “You’re telling me your chefs never thought of something like that before?”
“Not at all,” Celestia said. “I think I’m going to have to address the kitchen staff.” She barely managed to restrain herself from licking her lips. “Being an Alicorn, I doubt it would cause death, and I think I could eat two of those at the very least.” She beamed at Grif. “You’ll have to join me for a piece. Or maybe Taze could take your place.”
Grif chuckled. “One of us shall be there with bells on, Your Highness.”
Celestia frowned. “I wouldn’t recommend it. Some Unicorns view bells as a symbol of power and authority, thanks to Starswirl the Bearded’s unique choices in fashion. But, then again, I suppose I don’t have to tell you that. You three already had the chance to meet him yourselves.”
“It was a human expression, Princess,” Grif explained. “Taze has been teaching me a good many things.”
“Is that so?” Celestia smiled goodnaturedly. “And what does it mean?”
“There are apparently a number of theories as to its origin, but most humans believe it has to do with wagoneers. Apparently, it was a point of pride for them to have bells on each of the creatures they used to help pull their loads. In the event another wagoneer had to come to their rescue, the rescuer usually asked for their bells as payment. So to be there with bells on was to arrive with one’s pride intact and at one’s best.”
“I see. Speaking of bells, I hope you won’t be offended or startled with what happens next. Do try to stay calm.” Then her horn flashed gold, and the group was encased in a barrier of magic that hummed with a gentle bell-like tone. “Now we can converse without being overheard. There are some more serious things that I need to discuss with the three of you without listening ears to eavesdrop.”
“Joy.” Hammer Strike sighed. “So, what’s going on this time?”
“Nothing to be upset about, fortunately. It’s not another coup attempt, nor are we going to war. However, I feel it’s only right to inform you that after seeing your trainees in action, Luna has been convinced that it’s time for us to begin rebuilding our military forces again. As you’ve seen, the Solar Guard is primarily a ceremonial force. They function as peacekeepers and know how to break up other Ponies should fighting break out, but none of them, or at least very few, can be called true warriors in the military sense of the word. Chrysalis will attack again. Of that, we are both certain. And after what happened with Sombra’s return, it seems only right for us to be prepared for any other foes from our past that might emerge.”
“It most certainly does seem right. Right now, you’ve barely got a fighting force even with a technical ‘army.’”
“Precisely. However, the nobles will be loath to allow such a restoration of the old. Not only will it be a means to encourage the philosophy of talent over social rank, but it also stands as a direct threat to the control they’ve worked to build and maintain over the centuries. My sister and I could take over all of Equestria on our own if we wished. We could destroy every dissenting noble in a matter of seconds while all the rest of Equestria watches. But neither of us wishes to rule by fear and force. That is not the proper way to govern. Fear is a tool that should be used only against the enemies of Equestria. And misguided and puffed up though the nobles may be, none of them is foolish enough to seek to destroy the kingdom.”
“Don’t be so sure,” Grif warned. “If there’s one thing I know now, it’s that Gryphonia’s history is one filled with blood. Gryphons from older clans with strong bloodlines and histories have often allied themselves to murder the reigning monarchs if they deem them unfit to rule. And then they install the ones they want instead to follow their agenda. Sometimes, it’s been to the empire’s benefit. Other times, it’s pulled their progress back by generations. More often than not, it’s been the latter. Your nobles can’t kill you easily, but they will forge alliances with the intent to do the same thing to you and your sister politically. I saw enough of those selfish nobles during the Canterlot invasion. And if history is to be believed, ‘I’ saw many more during my time before and during the Third Gryphon War thanks to what that plague did to the Northern Isles. If you let a weed continue to grow, it will inevitably destroy the garden. You need to cut it off at its source and rip it out by the roots if you want to stop it for good.”
“I can’t do that, Grif.”
“I never said to do it in one blow,” Grif said. “Some weeds run deep. Shovel around them first. Loosen the earth and get in deep. Then, when they’re starting to notice, strike. If you do it right, you’ll have the whole thing out. And then you’ll have the leverage. And whether or not you re-plant them will be up to you.”
“You have a hard outlook on things, Grif.”
“It’s a hard world, Princess,” Grif returned. “And as someone who’s lived as long as you have, you should know that better than any of us.”
“I’ve dedicated myself to trying to make it softer. Your native Northern Isles are a perfect example. Not only were we able to send them aid, but after many centuries of positive relations following that relief, they agreed to become a part of Equestria two hundred years ago. I wouldn’t be surprised if you were given an even bigger hero’s welcome there than you received here if you chose to visit.”
“Perhaps,” Grif agreed. “But I would suggest you look to the Gryphon quarters in Canterlot before you speak of softening again. The Gryphons of the Northern Isles are free, but those who dwell in Canterlot are far from it, thanks to those weeds I mentioned earlier. Those roots will form a wall of iron that will not yield if you don’t act. I’ve said my piece. Do with it what you will.”
“I think we’ve reached a point where it’s time to change the subject,” Pensword said. “Was there any other urgent matter you needed to discuss with us, Princess?” He pointed toward the edge of the barrier. “If not, it appears that someone is here to see you.”
“Who—?” Celestia turned with some surprise to see an ash-coated unicorn with a dark mane and tail both tied in buns. A large pair of glasses framed her luminous brown eyes, and a red ascot completed her ensemble. A pen and inkwell cutie mark stood out on her flanks. “Oh, Raven.” She looked meaningfully at the trio, then canceled her spell.
“Apologies for the interruption, Your Highness, but I’ve been instructed to give you a warning. It seems House Cookie and House Pansy are at each other’s throats again.”
Celestia sighed and shook her head in disappointment. “What seems to be the problem this time?”
“Petty complaints, as usual. House Cookie is making preparations for their New Year’s celebration. House Pansy is convinced the noise is a deliberate attempt to, and I quote, ‘sabotage our respite after a long day’s work.’”
Grif snerked at the comment, which elicited a thankful smile from the mare.
“They’re concerned about just what the celebrations might lead to in the long run, and potential for damages, or so they say.”
After he got his mirth under control, Grif raised a brow in surprise as he processed the information. “Wait, did you just say House Cookie?”
“Yes,” Raven replied.
“Hard Cookie was actually real,” Grif pressed again.
“... Yes,” Raven said, a bit confused. “That’s common Equestrian history.”
Grif blinked in surprise as he sat down. “I see.” Then he murmured to himself. “Well, that’s a few hundred pounds of headcanon that needs to be rethought.”
Celestia looked curiously at Grif. While she hadn’t heard everything, she did at least recognize the word headcanon. If she recalled correctly, it was something Shining Armor used to discuss with certain of his subordinates on their days off. Perhaps she would ask him about its meaning later. For now, she had other matters to address. “And what is it that the Pansies would have of the crown?”
“For now, they request someone be sent to deal with the Cookies and ensure that the noise levels return to normal.”
Celestia nodded. “Send word to the Pansies.Tell them that I will address it if and when I have the time. Should I be unable to do so, another representative vested with my authority will go in my place to investigate.”
Raven nodded and turned to leave.
“Oh, and Raven?” Celestia called. “Please also remind House Pansy that I still haven’t forgotten the fuss the reconstruction of their estate’s east wing caused. If Cookie also tries to contact us, remind them of the fudge incident, then tell them that I would deem it as a personal courtesy if they were to invite House Pansy to the event. In all likelihood, this squabbling rose because Pansy wasn’t invited.” She sighed and smiled apologetically to the trio. “They’re so very much like children sometimes. To use your metaphor, Grif, sometimes a garden needs pruning. And sometimes, certain nobles need reminders that their egos aren’t more important than the needs and welfare of the Ponies they are meant to serve.”
Raven bowed. “I’ll send word ahead at once, Your Highness.”
Celestia frowned and rubbed her chin in thought. “And while you’re at it, please have a background check performed on one Pinkamena Dianne Pie. She’s no Cookie, but she reminds me very much of Puddinghead. I’d like to find out if there’s a connection in her family tree.”
“We’ll look into it, Your Highness,” Raven assured.
“No offense meant, Princess, but why the buck are you even listening to complaints that are so trivial?” Grif asked bluntly. “It’s not exactly a threat to the welfare of the kingdom.”
Celestia sighed. “True, it’s not, but before the founders passed away, I made them a promise to watch over their descendants and their legacy. So, whether it’s small or large, any concern regarding the six main branches is brought directly to me. They were dear friends and allies in a time that was … difficult, to say the least. In a way, they were almost like family.”
“Then why do you allow them to act so spoiled?”
“Because while I promised to keep an eye on them, they are each still their own person. I won’t force them to be something else. They have to be free to choose their path. If they break the law, then I will execute the punishment. Otherwise, they have to be able to move forward on their own.”
Grif nodded. “I understand. I may not like your current choices, but I will admit that decision, at least, is an admirable one. It’s the desire for freedom that led to the creation of the Northern Isles as a colony in the first place. And those who rule by force rarely live long. Though speaking of living, I’m curious. How do you find the time to balance all of your responsibilities?”
“I keep a very strict schedule. One might say that’s one reason why I eat so much cake. It brings me fond memories from a time long ago. And that memory helps to sustain me in turn. Now that my sister is back, the load has also grown lighter, giving us both more freedom to fulfill our other responsibilities and desires.”
“And does that still include weapons training?” Grif asked.
Celestia shook her head. “Not for me. My weapons are my words, mind, and magic. These, I hone regularly.”
“But not combat,” Grif guessed.
“That is Luna’s area of expertise.”
“Didn’t it used to be yours, too?”
“That was a long time ago in a war that I hope will never have to be repeated again.” She shuddered.
“It is an admirable trait to value life.” Grif nodded. “But at the same point to know that those of us who are gifted with strength should first and foremost use that strength in service to the weaker ones. If it be that our strength is words, then I salute the diplomat. But, dear princess, fate has decreed that war be my field of charge, and so I will fight for peace. Truth be told, a warrior’s path is to self extinction, as we fight to bring about a time when we will never be needed.”
Celestia nodded. “That reminds me of something the Grif I knew said to me long ago.” She chuckled. “Hence why those whose strength are words should never despise the warrior.” She sighed. “I admit I had hoped the second one would be the end.”
“Let us both pray that there is never a fourth.” Grif gave her a respectful nod. “Princess, could you tell me about these mercenary bands that I hear roam Equestria? They are Gryphons whose only allegiance lies with bits and the highest bidder, right?”
“Yes,” Celestia said gravely. “A few hundred years ago, there was a great social breakdown among the clans of the empire, and among many Gryphons in general. They became obsessed with accumulating wealth and power. Their pride became their greatest trait, and their greatest fault. In the chaos that followed the upheaval of war, strife, and petty revenge, whole bloodlines were either destroyed or scattered to the winds. Many a family lost their claims, their birthrights, and their homes. And as you are aware, Gryph, for a Gryphon to lose face in combat is a mortal insult to them and, in many cases, to the ruler they serve.”
“... They didn’t,” Grif said incredulously.
“The emperor did not approve of such bloodshed. The point of their empire was to raise the strong and make the weak stronger for the glories they sought as a culture. But the number of refugees were too many to compensate. And the families responsible for their downfall too influential to risk displeasing. You know what would have happened if the emperor did enforce the law properly.”
Grif’s expression became grim. “Yes.”
“To protect his bloodline and his rule, the emperor of the time cast out the remaining warriors. These homeless Gryphons went wherever they could find work and acceptance, and soon came to be scattered across Equis. Those who were too fractured to reconstitute their clans usually fell in with a charismatic leader from one of the better established remnants. Their superior training and background, as well as previous feats, gave them greater weight with which to rule. These knew all too well that the only way to satisfy their need for glory now would be to roam as mercenaries. Thus, they could accomplish great feats while earning the means to provide for themselves and the future generations that would be born to inherit their legacy.
“Much has changed in the generation that followed. Whether it be due to festering anger or some other factor, I cannot say. Perhaps it is a primal rage. Maybe it is something else. For whatever reason, things have devolved for many of them. Few, if any, of the old traditions are maintained by them. They raise their talons against the enemies of those willing to pay for their services. They are, for lack of a better term, adventurers. But … they are also effectively homeless, roaming from place to place in search of contracts and work. Only the older Gryphons and some few new arrivals to their parties remember what Gryphonia is like.”
“That’s not very fair,” Grif noted in a tone that was unusually level.
“No,” Celestia agreed. “It isn’t. I would offer them citizenship, but they don’t want it. So, I give them leave to ply their trades as they are able and set up offices to take on contracts. So long as they don’t break the laws of the land, they are free to live as they see fit.”
“Sounds like they need someone to knock some sense into them.”
Celestia smiled. “I get the feeling that someone will reveal themselves very soon.”
Pensword groaned as he pulled his face out of the book and gazed up at the ceiling. The clatter of the wheels along the track and the bumping sway of the carriage helped to ease his overburdened mind. So many military exploits. It was absolutely insane. The stallion had to have been possessed. But then again, in a time and society when Thestrals were so badly treated, it would take that kind of a soul to rise to that kind of position from what could easily be considered a backwater town.
“Okay, Moonshade, I think I’ve studied enough history for a while. I love it, but even I have my limits.”
“Especially if it’s potentially about you?”
“Exactly.” He laid the book to the side and looked at the mare. “I’ve been asking you a lot of questions about Thestral culture and about the history I’ve missed here in Equestria. It only seems fair to return the favor. Why don’t you ask me some questions you’re curious about?”
Moonshade pondered that offer for a time. “All right,” she finally agreed. “Then let’s start off with something simple. What was the Crystal Empire really like? Not the one today, but the one you saw in the past.”
Pensword smiled sadly. “It was beautiful. Everything in the kingdom shone and sparkled in all the colors of the rainbow. No two buildings were exactly alike, but that’s how crystals are, too. Each had its own shade or color, and they showed off the light in different ways. The whole empire was covered in ribbons of raw mana that surged from the crystal heart and the Ponies who empowered it. And when the aurora danced overhead at night, you could see little rainbow stars in its facets.
“Back then, there was a massive wall, too. The crystal seemed to have been specially grown with the purpose of defense in mind. It took everything Hammer Strike, Grif, and Star Swirl the Bearded could muster in order to break it down. Without fracture theory and harmonic resonance accounted for, it’s possible they still wouldn’t have been able to destroy it. There was one gate into the city, and unlike the smaller gate at today’s empire, it stood as high as the great wall that surrounded the empire. Three crystals hovered suspended between the two sides of the gate. I never witnessed it myself, but Twilight tells me that those crystals would activate a magical gate channeled through the crystal wall to seal the entrance in times of war. It fed on the power of the crystal heart, much like the rest of the city seemed to. Travel was primarily on hoof or by flight. Grif had to carry Hammer Strike into the city on his back. The gate had guard quarters on site to ensure that all the soldiers were treated well. The wall was heavily patrolled, most likely as a remnant from the Gryphon attacks during the war.
“The outer city and farmland were fairly minor locations in the grand scheme of the attack, but the amount of acreage was enough to produce for thousands. When they said an empire, they meant an empire. The landscape was easily the size of both the Everfree Forest and Ponyville combined, and probably more. It’s regrettable, but when the crystal heart was hidden away, winter came with it to freeze the outer lands. The crops didn’t survive. I honestly think the only reason the city didn’t suffer the same fate is because Sombra was using his magic to keep it at bay. Dark magic is powerful, I’ll give it that. The other explanation is the possibility of a lingering charge left behind after the main power source was removed. Either way, the city was on borrowed time without its rightful leader.”
Moonshade frowned. It was clear that discussing that part of the empire’s history brought more pain than it did comfort. A change in topic was clearly in order. “And what can you tell me of your home?” No sooner had the words left her lips than she knew the question was a mistake. Pensword’s whole body seemed to tense, as if he’d just endured a blow. The smile he offered her was understanding, but the pain still shone in his eyes.
“Now there’s a subject I can tell you a great deal about. Traveling by the speed of a walking Pony with proper stops and rests would take about six months from one side of the nation to the other. You know how Equestria is about one point seven one eight million trots?”
Moonshade nodded.
“America is approximately nine point eight two seven million, and that’s not even the largest nation on Earth.”
Moonshade stared in open-mouthed astonishment, in part out of surprise and in part to try to pull Pensword’s thoughts away from the homesickness her question had doubtless raised in him.
“Our government functions differently from Equestria’s. We don’t have monarchs in our nation. Instead, we elect our leader as a nation. Instead of a monarch, we call it a president, one who presides over the nation. We also elect representatives for each of our local regions who come together at the nation’s capitol to discuss and vote on legislation. It then passes through a second legislative body, requires a signature from the president, who has the right to refuse to sign it once and send the proposed law back to be voted on a second time before it is voted past him. Then the legislation must face the final hurdle of scrutiny from a body of judges who are versed in our nation’s laws and precedents to ensure that the law in question doesn’t go against our nation’s founding document and first laws. We call that supreme document The Constitution and Bill of Rights.
“In some ways, the process is akin to the house of nobles you have here. In other ways, it is very different. It’s messy and time consuming, but it’s one of the more effective modes of government our world has seen. And it is what allowed our nation to be known as a land of promise where people can arrive with little money and work hard to earn a place, build a home, and contribute to the community and nation as a whole. This process is known as The American Dream.”
“Sounds a lot like Equestria.”
Pensword chuckled. “Not quite. We can be a little more … chaotic than Equestria is. And I doubt we even have so much as half the resources that can be found here, not to mention all the flora and fauna.”
“Then how does one survive?”
“We still have our farmers, our engineers, and our shops. We use paper as currency instead of gold or silver or jewels. And we earn our keep through our trades, the same way Ponies do here. There’s just a lot more competition because of how much larger the population is.”
“Why don’t you tell me about something that you really loved there? You mentioned a certain expertise on steam engines and steam power before. Maybe you can talk with me about that? Or maybe something else you don’t get to discuss often with your friends?”
“Are you sure you want to listen to that?” Pensword asked. “I can take a very long time, and I don’t know if Shawn would want me to go into detail from a technical standpoint.”
“Can you talk about other things without the technical side?”
Pensword frowned. “I might be able to, I suppose.”
Moonshade flew next to Pensword and settled on the cushion with the book between them. “Then let’s start there. And then, when we’re both ready, we can go back to the book again.”
A smile pulled at Pensword’s lips. “All right. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Rarity stared at the platinum band Hammer Strike had presented to her, once again contemplating the many facets of the striking sapphire set delicately on top in a four-prong setting. Its deep navy blue drew the eye into fathomless depths that flickered with the promise of a hidden treasure before darkening once again with the change of the light. A platinum chain curved through the engagement ring to turn it into a necklace, as well as the symbol that would protect Hammer Strike from the vultures that would try to seize on his title and fame.
“You never told me you worked in jewelry,” she said.
“That’s because I didn’t.” Hammer Strike shrugged.
“You mean this was your first attempt?”
“Second attempt. I … put too much strength into the first attempt and snapped a prong off.” He rubbed the back of his neck.
“If this was only your second attempt, then you really are incredibly talented. You could make a fortune designing new rings.”
He gave a brief chuckle. “Not really a line of work I find entertainment with. Plus, considering who my main clientele would be, I think I’d rather not.”
“You could always work through proxies,” Rarity pointed out. “It’s quite common in the fashion world. But I do see your point all the same. Just because I said you could doesn’t mean you should. Particularly when you already have another mission you’re focused on.”
“Indeed. But to return to the previous topic, I won’t press you to accept this deception, as it would also change their perspective of you as well.”
“Nonsense,” Rarity said. “I’ll admit I was surprised, but this is to help a friend.” A hint of a smirk pulled at her lips. “And there is the matter of a certain noble I’d love to embarrass with our little deception.”
“Oh?”
“I have a certain history with Prince Blueblood. Nothing sordid, mind you, but the way he treats a mare leaves much to be desired. I … have this foalish dream of marrying into nobility, you see. And, well, … Prince Blueblood is one of the most desirable eligible bachelors in the kingdom.At the Grand Galloping Gala last year, it was one of the first real noble functions I had been invited to participate in, not as a designer or common help, but a proper guest invited by Princess Celestia herself. In that respect, at least, I would be as noble as any other she chose. I thought to get close to him, experience that galant charm for myself, and show him what a lady I could be as well. I admit that I sought him out first. I spent the rest of the function with him. It was … far from pleasant.”
“Given what I’ve heard of him, I could only suspect how badly it may have gone.” Hammer Strike frowned. “Especially given I have quite a number of their old staff.”
“He couldn’t take the slightest hint, used my one-of-a-kind shawl to ease his way over a puddle, insisted that I open every single door myself for him, and even had me pay for food to share.”
“Pay to-” Hammer Strike sputtered before placing his hoof against the bridge of his nose. “Wow, I expected it to be bad, but that’s something else. He’s loaded, and couldn’t even….” He sighed.
“Worse still, he spurned some of Applejack’s best cooking, the very food that I paid for in the first place. He called it common carnival fare. Even worse, he spat it out in front of Applejack. He didn’t even have the decency to dispose of it out of sight.” Her skin and coat had begun to flush with anger as the memories resurfaced. “What about the Apples’ recipes can possibly be considered common?”
“He certainly needs to be knocked down a notch or two.”
Then a wicked smirk dispelled the wrath. “At least I had consolation. After the gala ended, Princess Celestia came to find us. Not only did she thank us for practically destroying the event, but she even told me just how much of a tongue lashing Princess Luna gave him after the fact.” She chortled wickedly. “Tell me, are you familiar with the Royal Canterlot Voice?”
“That must have been quite the sight.” Hammer Strike chuckled.
“I honestly wish I could have seen it. It would have been worth it to lose my hearing for a few hours. At the very least, I’ll be able to put Prince Blueblood off his game. And while I am perfectly confident in your capabilities, if you have any questions, I’ll be more than happy to assist.”
“I think I’ll work off of the moment when it comes. While I may hold rank, I honestly don’t care for formalities. I’ve always preferred things to be straightforward.”
“Strange. You’ve always been formal when you enter my shop.”
“You know, we do still need to settle accounts for all those extra bits you left behind in my shop.”
“That can be settled later.” Hammer Strike smiled as he glanced off to the side, then gestured for her to look.
Moonshade’s head rested on Pensword’s shoulder while his head laid against her mane. The heavy history book straddled their hind legs with its top angled precariously over the edge of the seat. The calm of sleep erased the stern features the two normally wore when performing their military duties, leaving them to look almost as if they had been made to fit like this as warm comforting sunlight streamed through the window to light up both of their manes.
Hammer Strike and Rarity weren’t the only ones staring. Celestia smiled knowingly while Grif smirked.
“Perfect Kodak moment,” the Gryphon commented, even as the guards looked on. “Say, Hammer Strike, what do you think about performing a little matchmaking?”
“I think we don’t need to press this much at all,” he chuckled.
“Fine. But I call dibs on teasing them.”
Hammer Strike chuckled again. “Fair enough.”
Canterlot station was the same as always. The hustle and bustle of a busy city left most of its occupants ignoring the train’s arrival, and that suited the occupants of one particular train car just fine. Celestia smiled as she disembarked from the train with the others in tow. “I didn’t expect to be coming back to Canterlot so soon, but I suppose it can’t be helped. I’ll take advantage of the time to check how things are running back at the palace, and maybe visit a few places while I’m not on princess duty.” She winked at the others. “Are you sure you all don’t want me to come with you to the dinner?”
“I have a feeling that will be ever so slightly counterproductive to what I’m aiming for,” Hammer Strike noted.
“If you say so, then I’ll trust in your judgment.”
“Not a bad idea, all things considered,” Grif murmured.
“Yeah. Then we’re likely to get an additional request for a meeting in the future. He won’t speak his mind truthfully if Celestia herself is there as well,” Hammer Strike reasoned.
“He’ll probably try to be unpleasant and spoiled, make demands, that sort of thing,” Pensword mused. “But if his father is there, and as dangerous as I’ve heard, he’ll be the real threat to deal with.”
“Baron is a schemer to the core,” Celestia agreed. “But he does have one weakness. He doesn’t like to get his hooves dirty. He cares about his public image too much. A certain Pony I know, along with his friends, however, have no such qualms.” She smirked.
“Makes things simpler.” Hammer Strike shrugged.
“I’ll leave it to you, then. When you’re ready to go, you can send a messenger to the palace. Or if you prefer, I can have someone watch you all to let me know when you leave.”
“Yeah, being watched doesn’t exactly come across as a great feeling,” Hammer Strike replied flatly. “We’ll deal with messengers.”
Celestia nodded. “Then I’ll leave you to your appointment. I assume your escort should be arriving soon if the Bluebloods really want to go all out.” She nodded and strode off the platform, much to the amazement of many as she passed through the crowd and out of sight.
The four waited patiently at the station. They sat through three more train arrivals and multiple waves of incoming and outgoing passengers. Nobles and commons alike passed on their own errands and business. Finally, Pensword glanced up at the great clocktower by the station and sputtered in annoyance. “I understand he may want to send us a message, but at least he could have sent us a guide to welcome you,” he said to Hammer Strike.
“Hurts him more than me.” Hammer Strike shrugged.
“I assume we’ll have to walk there, then,” Grif said. “Should we ask directions or just follow the general stench of hypocrisy and corruption?”
“I think that smell runs a bit too rampant here,” Hammer Strike gave a brief chuckle.
“Perhaps,” Grif agreed. “Oh, and just for the record, I’m calling it right now. This is going to go simply. Blueblood will make outrageous and stupidly transparent demands while speaking to you like a simpleton. You’ll counter. He’ll get forceful. Then I’ll put someone's face through a table, and we’ll leave.”
“Does it have to be violence, Grif?” Pensword asked. “Wouldn’t that just make them bolder?”
“If done right, it means they’ll understand we don’t care about our image, without harming our image amusingly enough,” Hammer Strike noted.
“I suppose, if anything, it could break up their composure so we get a better measure of their real intent and character,” Pensword conceded grudgingly.
Moonshade shrugged. “I’ll follow your lead. I am technically part of your escort, after all.”
“We’ll make a legendary death-defying hero of crazy out of you yet, Moonshade,” Grif chortled.
“I’ll leave the crazy to you. As for the rest, well, we’ll have to see how things develop.” She shrugged. “I am technically still loyal to Princess Luna first and foremost, after all.”
Hammer Strike hummed in thought. “Given how things typically go for us, I doubt you’ll get much choice in the matter, sadly.”
“I’ll believe that when pigs learn to fly,” Moonshade replied.
Grif smiled mischievously. ““Well, the Royal Porcine Aeronautics Academy is making great breakthroughs, from what I read….”
Before Moonshad had time to make a rebuttal or anyone else could add their two cents, a stirring at the platform drew their attention. The rhythmic tromp of shod hooves landing in synch on the stone pushed against the hissing of steam and the murmur of citizens. Then came the flash of gold and high tufted manes sprouting from the tops of the helmets. The soldiers were practically identical in every detail, right down to their blue manes and pristine white fur coats. They looked carefully, and on spotting the familiar blue coat and the more imposing Gryphon, approached before stopping at a parade rest. The foremost of them strode forward and inclined his head respectfully. “Lord Hammer Strike?” he asked.
“That would be me,” Hammer Strike spoke up.
The guard offered a salute immediately. “Lieutenant Ballistic Shield at your service, Sir. We’re here to escort you to our lord’s manor.”
“All right. Though, we need to make a stop by the castle first, as there are things that need to be dropped off,” Hammer Strike replied, eyeing Rarity’s luggage, which a straining Earth Pony porter barely managed to finish hauling onto a cart before collapsing in a heap of exhaustion.
“Of course, Sir.” He pointed at a few of the guards and gestured toward the bags. Four Ponies approached. Two Unicorns and two stout Earth Ponies. Heavy couldn’t help but laugh uproariously when one of the two Earth Ponies’ eyes nearly popped out of his head as he braced under the sheer weight of one bag. Demolition Grenado was right with him, gasping as he pointed the derision that he could not presently utter. The Unicorns could hardly raise their heads as they struggled to lift their own burdens with magic.
Hammer Strike stared at the four for a moment longer before letting out a soft sigh. “It’s okay, you four. I’ve got it,” he spoke up, gesturing for them to allow him space, even as he seized each piece of luggage out of the air and from the Ponies’ backs.
“Now there is colt who eats his sandvich,” Heavy said admiringly.
“Ay,” Demolition Grenado agreed. “Reminds me of me da’” He sniffled once, but refused to cry.
“Now then,” Hammer Strike spoke up as he secured the luggage to his back. “While we walk, I actually had a question for you, Ballistic.”
“Of course, Sir,” Ballistic responded after a brief pause to take in the sheer strength the lord was showing off right now. “Whatever you like.” The remainder of the party fell in with Demolition Grenado and Heavy Set taking point while the guards took posts on either side of the party. Grif, Pensword, and Moonshade took up the rear.
“Do you happen to have relatives by the name of Blast and Tower?”
“Cousins, as a matter of fact. Why do you ask, Sir?”
“They’re under my employ, so I thought I’d ask.”
“Is that so? I heard they’d been stationed elsewhere, but I didn’t know where. Their father, Steel Shield, is the younger brother of my father, Iron Shield. There is also Bronze Shield and his family, all the sons of Buckler Shield, our grandfather,” Ballistic explained.
“Quite a line of defenders,” Grif commented.
“It’s what we do,” Ballistic said. “We serve to protect, whether it be a mighty noble or the humblest citizen. Obviously, for me, it is currently the former. But that won’t stop me from helping the latter when I’m able.”
“That’s very generous of you,” Rarity noted. “It’s difficult to find a Pony like that in the big cities these days.”
“There are more than you think, m’lady,” Ballistic returned. “But I’ll be the first to admit it could be better.”
“You never know, Lieutenant,” Pensword stated sagely. “A single ripple can make a mighty wave, given the right conditions.”
“True,” the guard agreed. “You and your wife certainly did.”
“We do what we can. That’s what makes the difference,” Pensword said.
“That’s what makes us shields.” Ballistic smiled, then turned his attention back to Hammer Strike. “Shall we pick up the pace, Milord? Your strength is legendary, but we would rather not test that legend too strenuously if we can help it.”
“This isn’t that bad,” Hammer Strike gave a dismissive wave. “I’ve dealt with worse.”
The trip to the palace was a bit of a climb, and many Ponies stared and whispered, but the stern faces of the guards flanking them and Heavy and Demo’s glowering appearances served as efficient deterrents. The party did eventually make it safely, however, and it didn’t take long for the chamberlain to guide them each to their rooms. The guards were given permission to mingle among their fellows while awaiting the summons to escort their guests to the Blueblood estate. Pensword and Moon Shade each had their own smaller rooms to keep their armor and other personal effects. As the equivalent of Hammer Strike’s servants, they did not require large and spacious rooms. Grif, on the other hand, was granted a bigger room to accommodate his larger frame. A balcony was also allowed so that he could easily take flight should he feel the need. Overall, the accommodations were just what the doctor ordered, without the wibbly-wobbly timey-wimey.
Hammer Strike was courteous and efficient as he removed each of the bags one at a time to lay down for Rarity to unpack as she saw fit. His own room was more spartan in its appearance, with a clean workspace, a worktable drawn up with fresh blueprint and design paper, and a small bed to use when he felt the need. There was no forge, but there would be plenty of room and time to compose more drafts of his designs.
In due course, the party met again for their final checks before journeying to the Blueblood estate. Rarity was the epitome of style and beauty with a fantastic blue eyeshadow that complemented her eyes and the starry sparkles in her dress generated by the crushed gemstone powder she’d infused the fabric with. Her ring still hung from her neck for all to see while Hammer Strike remained in his blue coat, having only taken the necessary time to make the basic preparations for departure. Grif stood decked in leather armor and a long cloak marked with an intricate pattern shaped like a cardinal compass superimposed by Hammer Strike’s coat of arms. Pensword and Moonshade each wore their respective uniforms, complete with the new designs Hammer Strike had forged and incorporated. Each also had a sword at their sides to make use of. Demolition Grenado and Heavy Set both remained exactly the same, and Grenado unleashed a massive belch as the party reunited, then wiped his mouth.
Hammer Strike looked to Grenado briefly, then nodded. “Yep, still perfect for the task at hand,” he muttered before turning to face the others. “Prepared for what is ahead?”
“Thirty two throwing knives; fifteen rounds of shot, not including the preloaded one; two swords; one stiletto in my hidden pocket; and one at my side, and talons,” Grif said. “I am officially a walking pocket knife. I just hope the company doesn’t spoil the meal. Do you think they’ll have any good raspberry dishes?” He smirked at demolition Grenado and Heavy Set as his accent grew thicker and more playful. “You Ponies always seemed to prefer the sweet, never treasuring the bitterness in life.”
Grenado rolled his good eye while Heavy Set stared at the Gryphon. “Why does Gryphon suddenly sound like spies?”
“How’m I s’possed ta know? I just drink, chop, and blow things up.” He took another few heavy gulps of his bottle of alcohol.
“Dare I ask why the three of you are dressed like we’re about to go to war?” Rarity asked of Grif, Moonshade, and Pensword.
“You seem surprised,” Hammer Strike noted.
“I just didn’t realize you all would literally be dressed to kill,” Rarity noted.
“Wait, wait, wait. I thought we were dressing to maim,” Grif said. “Great. Now I’m going to look funny.”
Hammer Strike put a hoof to his forehead as he sighed.
“We are technically a part of the escort, Rarity. And I’m supposed to be a military commander. It wouldn’t be right in either scenario for me to arrive in anything less, all things considered,” Pensword replied.
“And as Pensword said, I am a soldier first and foremost. I’m here to look after you and Hammer Strike, not socialize with the elites. Besides, I doubt they would want to so much as look at someone like me. Just having me walk in their house will probably be an insult.” She clenched her teeth afterward, but that was the only sign of anger that she showed.
“If anyone says something, they’re going to have to answer to me first,” Pensword said darkly.
“Why Pensword, what a galant thing to say! It’s practically something right out of a fairytale,” Rarity complimented.
Pensword blushed and cleared his throat awkwardly, even as Grif exchanged a sly smile and a wink with Hammer Strike. “I think we should probably get going now. If we’re going to beat Blueblood at whatever game he’s planning, we should probably at least try to look like we’re playing by the rules.”
“Not just yet, Pensword,” Hammer Strike said. “I have one last thing to give you before we go, Rarity. If you would, Grif?”
Grif produced a small bundle wrapped in black cloth and passed it to Rarity. “This is a gift from Hammer Strike. It’s priceless, so treat it well,” he warned.
Rarity unraveled the wrappings to reveal a custom sword belt complete with a sheath fashioned from sturdy black leather and secured by several silver fasteners. Within lay a sleek stiletto. Its edge had been finely honed, giving an image of refined lethality to it. A small simple silver-plated cross hilt and pommel granted the taste of elegance without sacrificing the function. Its grip was carefully wrapped in black leather. The weapon would serve its user well if the need arose to use it.
“You … want me to wear this?” the mare asked.
“If you wish to join in and stand out with us, then this can do more than just defend you,” Hammer Strike replied with a small smile.
“Well, they do say bold is the new black.” Rarity offered a weak smile. “Would … one of you mind helping me put it on?”
“Allow me.” Hammer Strike moved to assist, and the mare soon looked just like a swashbuckling princess.
Rarity bowed her head, and her horn tapped his shoulder as her mane brushed against his cheek. “You have my thanks, Lord Hammer Strike.” She offered a small, albeit very warm, smile.
“Not a problem at all. I had something else in mind, but I’d say this will work just fine.” His smile widened briefly.
“And with that, the stage is set, and our leads are ready to play their roles to perfection,” Pensword said.
“All the world’s a stage,” Grif began. “And all the tribes and races merely players.”
“Then shall we attend to our parts?” Pensword asked.
“Let’s make this a night to remember.” Hammer Strike smirked as he led the way toward their escort and the events to come.
The Blueblood estate was a mansion located in the lower area of Canterlot City. The grounds leading to the mansion were covered in gardens and statues. A large fountain stood out in the center path, spewing water from the horns of the six Unicorns rearing together as a great sun rose above them in delicately carved crystal. Doubtless, during the day it would make a grand display, scattering rainbows and light throughout the complex to dance in the water.
The mansion itself was extravagantly large, and gave the impression that it could seemingly merge into the shadow of the mountain. Its columns and balustrades were carved from polished marble. White silk banners hung from every possible location, proudly displaying the Blueblood family crest, a blue helmet overlaid on a spear with a crown hanging from it. The gardens were planted with every exotic flower one could imagine. And everywhere the guests looked, even at this late hour, Ponies could be seen maintaining the house and grounds. The gate leading onto the grounds seemed to be made of gold-plated steel bars. Two armed Ponies who, surprisingly, didn’t actually look like the regular guards stood on either end of the gate doing their best to look imposing.
“Well, here’s where it begins.” Hammer Strike sighed and adjusted his stance, leaving his relaxed state.
True to their roles, Pensword, Moonshade, and Grif were careful to analyze each of the surroundings for potential threats without being too overt.
“Everything looks clear,” Grif said.
“We’re safe to proceed, M’lord,” Pensword agreed.
Hammer Strike sighed internally. “Then, here we go.”
A brief verification of Ballistic Shield’s identity soon led to entry, and the party were on their way. The guards were efficient and focused on their work, each returning to their respective posts after the gate had been closed again. As they drew closer to the manor, more features became noticeable. The overall design of the place was fancy to the point that it bordered on gaudy. Prince Blueblood stood at the top of the stairs, beaming like a child welcoming an old friend.
“Greetings, and well met. Welcome to Blueblood Manor,” the colt greeted. “It’s an honor to have the heroes of the Crystal Empire grace these halls with their presence tonight.”
“A lot more respectful when we’re in striking distance, isn’t he?” Pensword murmured.
Grif smiled. “Watch this,” he whispered, then cleared his throat. “My Lord Hammer Strike is the hero of Whinnysberg and Fillydelphia as well. It would do you well to remember all his accolades, and not simply his recent ones,” he said in a haughty tone, leaning heavily on his Phrench accent.
To his credit, Prince Blueblood managed to maintain his composure. “That is very true, Warrior Grafson, but as you were so keen to point out in your … creative reply to one of my missives, Lord Hammer Strike has many titles, and we would spend half the night here trying to list them all. History tells us that your lord is not one to stand on such ceremony. Quite the opposite, in fact. I thought it prudent to keep things semi-formal with that preference in mind.”
“Then at least you have that much sense,” Grif said gruffly. “Your oversight can be forgiven this once, then. As you have said, formalities are disagreeable to my lord. And as you have doubtless found in your research, I do not put stock in titles, but in deeds. I hope your family will be able to keep that in mind when hosting my lord tonight.” Demolition Grenado and Heavy Set both approached to flank the Gryphon on either side. “Respect is the foundation upon which true greatness is built. And I expect to see that respect shown, as is his right as your guest. Do we have an understanding?”
Prince Blueblood swallowed. “Of—” he cleared his throat after his voice cracked. “Of course, Sir Grif.”
Grif nodded and turned aside to allow a proper view of Hammer Strike. However, Blueblood’s eyes instead locked on the mare at his side as he gasped in shock.
“What are you doing here?”
Rarity gave a tight smile. “Hello, Prince Blueblood. It’s been a while.”
“Lady Rarity Belle of Ponyville is here at the request of her fiancé,” Grif explained.
“Her what?”
“Her betrothed? Her future husband? There are only so many ways to say it. And as one of the upper class, I’m more than surprised to find you can’t comprehend a civilized language. Although any can infer that you two have met before, I have heard some rather … interesting things about that encounter,” Grif said dryly. “It would be wise not to allow such things to repeat themselves again, lest my lord be forced to defend her honor out of love as well as duty.”
“Naturally not,” Prince Blueblood agreed, though his voice did crack. He cleared his throat and tried again. “This is, as they say, my party. While the gala is one of the social events of the year, it can be … unpredictable at times. There will be no unforeseen circumstances here, I assure you,” he promised.
Hammer Strike leveled a flat stare at him.
Prince Blueblood began to sweat. “In truth,” he pressed on somewhat remorsefully, “many of my actions were deliberate with the intent of driving your fiancé away. I deal with many … admirers on a regular basis. And many who would pose as them for a chance to try to get to me directly, whether for scandal, prestige, or some other motive. I had already dealt with many such mares on the night in question, but much though I wished to withdraw, certain … obligations prevented me from doing so. I shouldn’t have doubted your sincerity, Lady Rarity. And for that, I do apologize.”
“You poor thing,” Rarity answered with the most obvious show of forced sympathy she could muster, followed by an artfully posed gentle smile.
Hammer Strike raised a brow questioningly.
“As I said, it is not one of my finer moments, Lord Hammer Strike. Hopefully, tonight’s dinner will help to act in some small part as the beginning of making amends.Though I do feel obliged to warn you. As this is the Blueblood estate, my father will function as both host and architect behind the events of this evening, and ruler of all that reside here. I do hope you’ll keep that in mind.”
“Of course. Though I do hope he’ll understand my entourage’s presence.” Hammer Strike gave a brief gesture towards the others. “Though times are peaceful, I do prefer to keep my allies close at hoof.”
“Naturally. And since you’ve yet to have your own formal contingent of guards appointed to you, it’s only natural that you choose those who you know you can trust. Your allies from the war, and those who are appointed by your closest allies in this day and age.” He looked warily at Demo and Heavy. “And … certain others we have yet to have the pleasure of meeting….”
“There is no need for names,” Heavy said. “We are paid to guard. That is enough.”
“And scare the kilts off anyone as tries to hurt the boss,” Demolition Grenado added before taking a swig from a glass bottle filled with an amber liquid.
“You … drink on the job. How … interesting….” Prince Blueblood said halfheartedly.
“Surprisingly, he’s more efficient while drinking than sober.” Hammer Strike shrugged. “Medically, his body doesn’t work as well without anything in him.”
“Give me water an’ I’ll die,” Demo slurred.
“Many think is joke, but it is true.” Heavy shrugged.
Prince Blueblood shuddered. “Anyway, the dining hall is this way. I had hoped for a more intimate gathering between us to better understand the relationship my ancestor shared with you during the war, but my father had … other plans. Nothing extravagant, mind, simply a few lesser nobles who are of my father’s acquaintance that were hoping to meet you. It’s not every day that such a legendary house is revived, particularly by the same person who founded it in the first place.”
“We live in interesting times.” Hammer Strike shrugged.
“Indeed,” Prince Blueblood agreed gravely.
“Demo, Heavy, keep an eye on the grounds,” Hammer Strike spoke up.
Demo grinned. “Ay, we’ll do that. Won’t we, Heavy?”
Heavy Set returned the grin. “Of course. We are very good at protecting. And we will make sure you are not disturbed. If anyone tries, Sasha and I will talk with them.”
“If by talk, you mean skewer them alive,” Demo added.
Heavy Set shrugged. “If they do not act rude, they do not have to worry.”
Blueblood stared aghast at them. “Just where did you find these two?”
“That’s a good question.” Hammer Strike nodded in response. “So, I believe you were going to lead us to the dining hall?”
Naturally, Prince Blueblood obliged.
The grand dining hall was a monument to extravagance. From the blue silk buntings to the golden trim and the massive table lined with Ponies dressed in their stuffiest and gaudiest outfits possible. Whether this was an attempt to draw attention, follow fashion, or merely cause their political opponents’ eyes to bleed was entirely uncertain. What was certain, however, was the sheer focus of each of those many, many more guests on Hammer Strike and his escort. One could hear much more than a pin drop as the gathering eyed Hammer Strike and his guard, taking particular note of the many weapons each wore.
Taking on the role of lord chamberlain, Prince Blueblood cleared his throat. “Father, honored guests.” He looked nervously at Hammer Strike. “It is my honor to introduce Lord Hammer Strike of Everfree, Defender of the Crown, Hero of the Crystal Empire, and Villain’s Bane, among many other titles of note. Along with his fiancé.” He said this last part somewhat less enthusiastically as he pulled back every so slightly from the brief hardening of his father’s gaze. “The lady Rarity Belle of Ponyville.”
Baron Blueblood was an older and more refined version of his son. True to the ideal of the stereotypical Unicorn bloodline, his mane and tail were a radiant gold that hovered on the edge of platinum. His white fur reflected the torchlight in the hall while a stylish suit radiated suavity and influence. However, while Prince Blueblood’s eyes were bright blue, his father’s were as dark as glaciers. The stallion rose from his seat and nodded his acknowledgement of the guest. “Lord Hammer Strike, welcome to my home. I must admit that while I expected the escort, you’ve quite taken me by surprise with your additional guest. It’s clear that congratulations are in order. We’ll have a seat placed for Lady Rarity immediately.”
He clapped his hooves together, and two maids approached to attend to the table. The first skillfully maneuvered plates and implements to set with magic from her horn while the other, a pale white-furred mare used her strength to place an extra chair. Moonshade’s eyes narrowed suspiciously as she peered at the rustling under the second mare’s skirt and bodice. As the two servants took their leave, the baron gestured toward the new chairs. “Please, join us. We have an exquisite meal planned for tonight.”
“You have our appreciation, Baron Blueblood.” He turned briefly to address the others and spoke softly in Draconic. “Act how you see fit.”
Grif grinned a cheshire grin. “No takebacksies,” he warned.
“Promise to keep me from making mistakes?” Pensword asked Moonshade.
“You’ll do fine. Just follow my lead,” Moonshade assured him.
And so it was that Hammer Strike was escorted to his place with Rarity by Grif while Moonshade and Pensword took up the rear, ever watchful until the two had been seated before Moonshade strode toward the wall nearby. It took less than a second for Pensword to fall in step with her before they took up their posts.
Grif smiled at each of the nobles, baring his teeth for all to see in an expression that was at once ingratiating and terrifying. “Have fun, you two,” he whispered before also pulling back.
“Your guards are welcome to partake of a meal as well, of course,” Baron Blueblood added. “Though as custom dictates, such a meal is traditionally prepared and held in the servants’ quarters. Rest assured, they will receive the treatment that they deserve as servants to one of your station,” he said to Hammer Strike.
“That choice lies with them,” Hammer Strike glanced towards the others briefly before turning back. “Though, I feel as though I know their answer.”
“There isn’t even a need to ask. I will remain with my lord,” Grif said pointedly. “Today’s guards are incompetent at best, with few exceptions. I won’t let them take responsibility for my lord’s life in the event of an attack.”
“And I will not leave either,” Pensword agreed. “The offer is thoughtful, but my duty is also to Lord Hammer Strike first and foremost.”
“I expected such responses, and you did not disappoint. The rigors of war make bedfellows of the rich and the poor alike. And lead to the most unlikely of alliances,” Baron said as his gaze drifted to Moonshade before focusing again on Hammer Strike. “But, of course, I don’t need to tell you that.”
“It is true that war can change how everything works. It can even pull together something that should never have been broken in the first place,” Hammer Strike responded.
“Well spoken,” Baron congratulated. “Come, let’s enjoy the meal. I’m sure we have much to discuss, and many of us have questions. Doubtless, you do as well.” He clopped his hooves together again to signal the servants, and the meal began as all do with basins to wash their hooves, each borne by servants prior to delivery of the first course.
“I hope you don’t mind, but I’m an absolute sap for romances,” one of the ladies, a mare in a fine sapphire gown with iridescent green accents, commented to Rarity. “If you don’t mind, could you perhaps tell me how you two first met? Was it love at first sight?”
Rarity smiled demurely. “Oh, nothing so fanciful as that. The first time we met was during a fitting shortly after his return from the Crystal Empire. After spending over a thousand years imprisoned in stone, I thought he would prefer to have a new set of clothing to wear, just a small gesture of gratitude for his service in protecting the Crystal Empire and Princess Cadance in particular. Without her, Twilight Sparkle wouldn’t be the Twilight I know today, after all, and we may never have regained the Elements of Harmony.”
“It was quite a different welcome from my expectations, given everything I had recently been through. We ended up in more contact than anticipated, given my belongings were now gone, and I found myself enjoying those visits more and more,” Hammer Strike continued.
“And you two developed a relationship from there. How absolutely adorable!” She sighed dreamily as a small flush rose to her cheeks.
“Lady Peacock Feather is indeed a romanticist at heart,” Baron Blueblood said with an indulgent smile. “Naturally, it goes without saying that your closest friends must also have approved.”
Rarity took a dainty bite from her plate and swallowed. “Of course,” she agreed. “They found our little games particularly amusing.”
An older gentlecolt cleared his throat. “Is that really appropriate to raise for discussion at the dinner table?”
“Why, I haven’t the faintest idea of what you mean, m’lord,” Rarity returned innocently. “I was simply referring to the fact that both Hammer Strike and I share the philosophy of generosity. It’s a game we play to see who can be the most generous between the two of us.”
“She tries to make something a gift, and I continue to pay for her work at what I deem to be a worthy price.” Hammer Strike chuckled.
“That’s still open for negotiation, dear,” Rarity pointed out.
“You’re right. I think I’ve been underpaying,” he returned with a smile.
“If we weren’t with company right now, I might name a suitable price, but I think we’ll have to wait on that, darling.” She smiled at each of the guests. “I hope you’ll forgive our little deviation. We didn’t mean to detract from the meal.”
“Not at all, Miss Belle. It’s clear to see the feelings you two share. A dear friend of mine has quite the talent for matchmaking, and I’ve learned a trick or two from the trade. The two of you are most definitely well suited for one another,” an older mare with a reserved purple dress smiled fondly at the couple, pulling the wrinkles back to reveal the sparkles that hid in the depths of her emerald eyes. “Lady Rough is the name. Gemstones and deposits are my game, as the saying goes. I hear you have quite the gift for dowsing, yourself, if rumor is to be believed.”
“One has had a certain modest amount of success,” Rarity admitted. “Though my specialty lies with gems. I’ve never tried looking for other resources. There are few uses for such things in the fashion industry.”
“Of course. But you clearly have a very discerning eye, as doubtless must your fiancé to find a one such as you.”
“Now, now, Lady Rough, time enough for compliments and platitudes will come after the meal,” Prince Blueblood said.
“My dear Prince Blueblood, the time for such things is always in the now. How can one form relationships without first finding that which one finds most interesting or holds in common?” the old mare returned.
“Interesting though this conversation is, I admit I’m curious to ask more about your personal history, Lord Strike. That is, if you are willing to discuss certain events,” an older Pegasus stallion said. “My family are somewhat of historians for Equestria, more as a hobby than out of any professional or royal obligation. But the story of what happened to our allies in the Crystal Empire is not yet on the record. I would not force you to relive harsh memories, but if you are comfortable sharing, may I ask what it was like for you during those days?”
Hammer Strike frowned briefly as he thought over what to say. “The beginning of the downfall was quick, and brutal. Bloodrose was killed by her cousin, and he took control of the empire shortly after. Afterwards, he enforced his control with dark magics and corrupted the royal guard, turning them on themselves. I took as much action as I could, taking Grif and Star Swirl to the side to fight, and ordered Pensword to look after Bloodrose’s children and bring them to safety.”
“So it really was Princess Celestia who ultimately destroyed Sombra the first time. But one would assume after you worked to weaken his grip over the empire?”
“It was none of us.” Hammer Strike’s frown deepened. “Celestia and Luna fought alongside the soldiers and pushed forward, but after a week of constant fighting in wait of their arrival, Grif, Pensword, and myself were too worn down. Sombra chose to enact dangerous magic, and sent the Empire away in time to ensure his safety. We had Star Swirl petrify the three of us to stay with the Empire and await its return before sending him away before Sombra’s spell could pull him with us and the empire.”
“From what we understand of our allies in the north, their power springs from love and hope, two abstract concepts that can lead to exceptionally powerful spells when executed properly. Wouldn’t you say that your actions, and those of your friends, would have been enough to serve to preserve that feeling, rather than allowing it to be crushed entirely?”
“We preserved it as much as we could, yes.” Hammer Strike nodded.
“Then that is a feat to be commended.” Baron Blueblood nodded sagely. “And doubtless the gifts of Commander Pensword’s mixed heritage proved helpful when dealing with the harsh conditions that exist outside the empire’s protection. Loyalty to one’s master, and to his allies, is most certainly an admirable quality to have, and indispensable when dealing with the rigors of war.”
“There certainly aren’t many that can handle it.”
“In today’s era, there aren’t many that want it either,” Prince Blueblood added.
“Nobody wants war,” Hammer Strike said bleakly. “And those that crave it do not understand it. Equestria is in a dire stage, and should war come, I see a hefty price that will come with it.”
“But surely the return of one of Equestria’s greatest heroes should serve as a deterrent, not an accelerant, should it not?” a mare with a dark blue fur coat and a darker mane asked.
“Fools do not listen to reason.” Hammer Strike shook his head. “They believe themselves better.”
A few of the Ponies glanced toward Baron Blueblood before hastily averting their gazes.
“Very true,” Baron Blueblood agreed. “Pride is one of the greatest weaknesses any opponent can manifest. One need only know how to exploit it to defeat them. Whether that be an enemy from without or from within. If memory serves, it was pride and a thirst for glory, as well as supremacy, that caused the Third Gryphon War in the first place. Is that not so, Grif Grafson?”
The nobles looked askance at their host, for he had gone so far as to address a servant, rather than the guests, a deviation that was far from the norm of any such gathering.
“It is why my father lived on the Northern Isles,” Grif admitted, even as he thanked whatever gods would listen that he had studied up on his supposed history. “It is also a sin I noticed in many a noble before I found my lord. One would hope their sins would not be repeated by their descendants, lest history repeat itself in a far harsher manner than the royal wedding Princess Cadance told us about.”
An involuntary shudder passed through the guests as the memories of the horrors visited on them during that event struck with the surgical precision of a venomous sting.
“Speaking of that event, have you and the Humans managed to prepare for potential retaliation?” Prince Blueblood asked. “After all, you are currently residing in the same town as the hero who exposed the Changeling plot and the hero who charged into danger, willing to sacrifice everything to give the royal couple the time they needed to cast their spell. A town by the name of Ponyville, if I’m not mistaken?”
“We have been training a new selection of guard,” Hammer Strike affirmed. “Preparing them for the difficulties of true combat.”
“It must be difficult dealing with all the Ponies who try to have a moment alone with you. After all, you are a celebrity among colts and mares alike,” Prince Blueblood said.
“Interacting with the general populace brings joy to my heart, for I can see lives being lived. It’s those that try to piggyback or attach themselves to me in some way that become difficult.”
“Such is the curse that comes with a noble title,” Prince Blueblood agreed.
“Out of curiosity, Lord Strike, have you encountered such individuals in the recruits that are being trained as well?” an older stallion asked. His cutie mark was a polished helm, and his mane was a mixture of gold and silver. However, unlike many of the other nobles, his body still carried the physique of one who had been through military training. “One has noted that the division of noble rank often carries into the guard. It can be difficult for some to rise in the ranks without having the proper connections.”
“Noble rank holds no ground in our recruits. They all started from nothing, and their performance will dictate their rank,” Hammer Strike replied simply.
“And if I might ask, who performs their evaluations?”
“Beyond myself, Pensword and Grif, alongside Major Moonshade. There are also the three humans who have shown their capabilities in understanding war. Two new units have shown up as well who hold appropriate rank and knowledge to perform the evaluations. Princess Celestia sent them to me with the highest recommendation, a Blast and Tower Shield.”
Prince Blueblood spurted the wine he was drinking back into his goblet through his nostrils, followed by a coughing fit.
“Ah, yes. I remember those two well. Buckler’s colts, aren’t they?” the stallion with the helm cutie mark asked.
“I believe so.” Hammer Strike nodded.
“They have good potential. Treat them well and they won’t disappoint.”
“I’m sure they won’t,” Hammer Strike agreed.
“Out of curiosity, Lord Strike, were you also considering dabbling in trade? Your craftsmanship is legendary among the populace. Doubtless, you would be able to make a killing in the marketplace if you wished. Obviously, your task from Princess Celestia comes first, but I can’t help but ask.” The mare who spoke was garbed in a bubbly golden dress the color of champagne. A long-fluted champagne glass brooch complemented the look.
“My focus at this time is to arm the recruits under me, and those closest to me, for protection.” Hammer Strike shook his head. “My focus is not money, nor will it ever be.”
The second course soon followed the proclamation, a rich pumpkin soup filled with warm autumnal spices and diced onions. Freshly baked bread was passed in fancy baskets for the guests to butter and use as they saw fit when dealing with their meal.
“History also tells us that you were an extremely charitable Pony. And it seems your own accounts of your courtship with the lady Rarity confirm it. Since money is not your focus, does that mean you intend to practice philanthropy on the side?” the same mare asked.
“For an economy to function, money has to move.”
“Ah, an investor! Now there is something I can relate to!” a portly Pony replied. Curiously enough, his fur was an exceptionally pale pink with an even lighter hue of fluffy white whipped like marshmallow fluff for his mane. His muzzle seemed almost to sink back into jowls of fat around his neck, and his custom suit strained against the size of his considerable bulk. “I’d be happy to point out a few prospects for you if you’re interested. Doubtless, you haven’t had much time to look into the markets with your focus on the Everfree.”
“I have actually looked into some businesses. I have some sources that I trust quite well for this.” Hammer Strike smiled.
“Oh? An insider, eh? How intriguing. I wasn’t aware you already had a network.”
“My dear Lord Hockshire, every noble has a network. Doubtless, the princesses made sure to preserve Lord Hammer Strike’s for him in the event he should return. One can’t help but marvel at the foresight they share,” Baron Blueblood commented.
“If rumors are to be believed, Princess Celestia even planned for Twilight Sparkle to meet you and your friends in Ponyville, Lady Rarity. Were it not for that decision, it’s entirely possible that we would be meeting under entirely different circumstances. And not nearly so pleasant,” the mare with the champagne-glass brooch added.
“If that’s the case, then it’s one more reason for me to thank her,” Rarity said. “Twilight is a dear friend. And as you said, without our meeting, we wouldn’t have the elements of harmony with us today. One shudders to think what might have happened then when Discord escaped as well. If memory serves, it took both princesses to defeat him the first time, did it not?”
“... Indeed, it did,” the mare agreed.
“I find it’s important to look back on one’s total history, not just the most recent events, to make a fair judgment. It’s not only the generous thing to do, but the proper one as a leader, wouldn’t you say? After all, we common Ponies do look to the nobles and elected officials to lead by example.”
Hammer Strike gave a brief chuckle. “You certainly aren’t one I’d consider to be ‘common.’”
“So long as you don’t call me a drama queen. Though a queen of fashion, that is a title I could certainly live with.” She smiled back at him in a mixture of playfulness and genuine gratitude.
“You two lovebirds certainly do have chemistry,” Lady Peacock praised.
The third course was an exceptionally prepared salad dressed with shredded parmesan cheese, dried berries, pecans, and a vinaigrette that was equal parts tangy and sweet to complement the berries. To add an extra layer of crunch, croutons had also been prepared and added at each guest’s request to suit their preferences.
“Out of curiosity, Hammer Strike,” Baron Blueblood finally said as he dabbed a napkin over his mouth, “since you are planning to develop the Everfree, have you devised a strategy to deal with the chaotic nature of the forest and its weather patterns?”
“Accept it and adapt as needed,” Hammer Strike replied simply.
“Won’t that prove rather costly up front?” the baron asked as he raised his wine glass and swirled gently before taking a sip.
“Not really. If you know what you’re doing, it’s easily manageable and doesn’t require much alteration to handle it. Even if it did, I wouldn’t withhold the bits to ensure the safety of the units under my command.”
“Then you are a stallion who prefers to trade in loyalty, rather than money,” Baron Blueblood mused. “An interesting trait to manifest in the court.”
“What use is money to something that does not care?”
“Then are you saying that you do not care?”
“As I said before, for an economy to function, money has to move. What use is gold if all you do is sit on it?”
“Well spoken. There are many places for gold to go. There are the common circles, of course. Caterers, servants, the occasional contractor or bodyguard. Education, business ventures. And, of course, the occasional bribe when needed. Few nobles will admit to it, but it’s a practice that many make use of to a greater or lesser degree.” He shrugged. “Some receive, and some buy. Some are blatant, others subtle. But it all happens, regardless.”
“Indeed, it does.” Hammer Strike’s voice was stern as he spoke. “And it comes with a price that, while it may not come in a lifetime, will be paid. Whether it is wanted or not.”
Rarity eyed Hammer Strike carefully as she took another sip from her glass. A hoof reached for her ring, and she held it to her chest in confusion. Why did it suddenly feel so … warm?
“And who will be the one to pay this mysterious price?” a portly Unicorn asked haughtily.
“Whoever it lands on down the line.” Hammer Strike looked at the Unicorn. “Whether it is wanted, or not.”
“I believe Lord Hammer Strike is referring to what is known as social credit or, as the Eastern Unicorns in Neighpon call it, karma. The idea that the consequences of one’s actions will inevitably manifest, and their burden will either fall on the one to commit the act or one who is affiliated with the individual,” Baron Blueblood said. “Good for good and bad for bad.”
“What a ridiculous sentiment,” a mare wearing a jade necklace shaped like a tama commented. Even as she said it, a crack that had once been nearly invisible spread along the stone’s surface. “What matters most is the now. As you yourself said, Hammer Strike, one adapts to one’s circumstances and acts accordingly.”
“As you can see, Lady Cracked Jade has very strong sentiments about ends and means,” Baron Blueblood noted evenly.
“Oh, I can see that well enough,” Hammer Strike replied as a small grin formed. “Do trust me. I find seeing the ends of things quite interesting as well.” As he reached for his glass, the beverage seemed to become more bubbly than before it was poured.
“A colt who is satisfied with a job well accomplished, then,” Baron noted.
“One who likes to get his hooves dirty, perhaps?” another mare asked. This one bore a golden necklace depicting a multi-spoked wheel.
“Lady Rumor Mill,” the baron said by way of introduction. “She specializes in intelligence and information gathering and dissemination. Her network and business contacts make it so she remains very well informed on the goings on in the world.”
“I’m sure you’ve heard quite some interesting stories,” Hammer Strike replied as he turned toward her. “Especially when the line between fact and fiction blur.”
“Information is information. How one uses it determines the outcome of the game. Naturally, I have my ways to ensure what I know is accurate. As for my enemies….” She shrugged. “As you say, sometimes the lines can blur. Between fact and fiction, right and wrong. I prefer to stay on the right side of history.”
“A good stance to take. Given your network, I’m sure you’ll make the correct choices.”
Rarity had begun to sweat now, and she took another sip of her beverage before looking with concern at her pretend fiancé. The leaves of his salad had become exceedingly wilted. “Darling, are you all right?
The edge that had crept into his voice vanished in an instant as he turned to Rarity. “I’m fine.” He frowned as he took note of her expression. “Are you okay?”
“Fine, fine. Perfectly fine. Just a little … warm.” She removed a dainty fan from a purse she’d brought to complement her ensemble and began to wave it with her magic.
A few of the nobles had begun to whisper among themselves, eying their bowls as the salad was replenished. Hammer Strike’s ears swiveled as bits of conversation sifted out of the air to knock at his eardrums.
“Where did those servants get these leaves, the compost bin?” a snippy mare pressed, even as a familiar servant with white tufted ears dutifully went about her task of restocking the bowls while her fellow servant poured more wine from a bottle that was practically swimming in the remnants of the ice cubes that had once kept it chilled. “These meat eaters don’t even know how to prepare a proper meal.”
“Shoddy runework,” the second noted with equal disgust. “The drink’s not even cold anymore. The baron should fire the incompetents….”
Both servants maintained flat expressions, though the slight droop of the white mare’s ears was noticeable. A subtle tightening of the Earth Pony garcon’s lips helped to indicate an equal displeasure, even as the warmth in the room rose to the point where it could be called stuffy.
“Hopefully, you won’t have to endure this for much longer,” Hammer Strike spoke to Rarity before whispering. “If it comes down to it, we’ll leave early.”
“And give them the chance to malign you at court?” Rarity gave a subtle shake of her head from behind her fan as she whispered to him. “I don’t think so. Not unless you can come up with a good lie, anyway.”
“I have no care for what they say.” Hammer Strike frowned. “Your health matters more than my care of their opinion.”
Rarity gave a wan smile. “You’re going to make a fine husband one day, Hammer Strike. That mare will be lucky to have you.”
Hammer Strike gave a small smile in return. “I can only hope I make a good one.”
The third course to arrive were lucious mini lava cakes capped with a healthy dollop of ice cream. However, as the servants delivered them to the guests, the dollops rapidly began to melt, even as the liquid chocolate burbled and spurted from the cakes to dribble down the sides.
Prince Blueblood fanned himself strenuously. His normally perfect coiffure had grown limp as sweat beaded his brow. “Father, perhaps we should open a window. It’s getting a tad uncomfortable.”
The noble looked over his guests and nodded. “Make it so,” he ordered the servants. The windows soon opened, but there was little relief to be had. A breeze would pass through occasionally, but the heat would smother its remains after the draft had gone, leaving the room in the same condition as before.
“Baron, much though we appreciate your hospitality, it seems to me that one of your servants must be having ‘fun’ at our expense,” one of the mares noted in an icy tone while dabbing away at a particularly gooey chunk of cake that had erupted after her fork broke through the surface of the cake. “I understand there’s been a change in staff, but this really is too much.”
“Such a thing is not easily done, especially not in one night, Lady Cordial,” Baron Blueblood noted.
“Then dismiss them all. You’ve done it before, and you know full well what it will mean if this behavior goes unpunished. We’ll only receive more of the same. I doubt that other lords and ladies would be so understanding if they were to face similar conditions tonight.”
“You expect me to leave my estate unattended, Lady Cordial?” The air may have been hot, but the coolness in Baron Blueblood’s voice was enough to send chills down the spines of lesser Ponies.
“Only if you don’t want this influence to spread and taint your reputation. One bad apple spoils the bunch, as I’m sure you know all too well.” As others had before, her gaze drifted toward the Thestral server, who was busily loading ice cubes into the guests’ glasses and goblets. “And one never knows where that influence may come from. Or spread.”
Hammer Strike turned towards the mare who spoke. While he was mostly able to contain himself, things were starting to get too blatantly open for him to ignore.
Makeup and mascara ran, and collars stained as the sweltering continued. “Sweet Celestia, won’t somepony do something about this heatwave?” a mare demanded. “Our second princess is supposed to be a ruler of the night. Can’t she cool things off? Or is that beyond her power?” she asked waspishly.
Hammer Strike gritted his teeth and braced himself against the table, ready to bite that self-entitlement to smithereens. Even as he did so, the faint smell of burning wafted through the air, and the color of the tablecloth beneath his hooves began to darken from white to tan, growing darker and darker with each passing moment. Eyes widened in astonishment, causing monocles to tumble and breaths to burn away in startled gasps that each observer rapidly tried to cover in their own ways, whether by use of a fan or some other means. Rarity stared with equal astonishment, even as Prince Blueblood’s eyes seemed ready to start from their sockets while his father’s expression remained eerily calm. All watched the golden flecks that fell from Hammer Strike’s trembling form to rise on a column of unseen air that had begun to waver like a mirage.
Before Hammer Strike had the chance to deliver his blistering denunciation on behalf of the mare who had done nothing but help them from the moment they arrived in Equestria, a radiantly glowing phoenix streaked through one of the windows like a comet. It let out a triumphant cry as a scroll dropped from its talons to land in front of Hammer Strike,
Accepting the distraction, he took hold of the scroll and unfurled it, reading it quickly. He sighed and looked up to those present. “It appears we are done here, Blueblood. My presence has been requested by Celestia and Luna.” He spoke as evenly as he could, though the sharpness of his words remained present.
Baron Blueblood nodded. “Of course. To receive a summons at this hour must mean it’s urgent. We can meet again later, when matters aren’t so pressing.”
“My schedule will be busy for quite some time from here on, so you may find that difficult.” Hammer Strike stood from his place. “Next, will be by chance. Coming, dear?”
Rarity looked at the stallion’s proffered hoof and took it tentatively. Much to her relief, it did not burn. “Where you go, I go.”
“Then let us not delay.” Hammer Strike nodded.
The two departed from the table together and approached their escort.
“My lord, may I say something to our hosts before we depart?” Grif asked.
“Granted.”
Grif looked at each of the nobles with a cool expression. “As you all know, honor and exploits are among some of the greatest possessions to my people. I was sickened by the lack of honor in your people when I came to Equestria for help. I am equally sickened now to see the same lack in your faces and actions tonight. Your games are childish, your strategies clear, and your barbs designed to gain a rise from my lord and test just how far you can push him safely. A word of advice to ‘your kind,’ as you so fondly put it. My lord rarely shows his displeasure openly. When he does, those who have earned that ire wish they could have Tartarus on their doorstep instead. And when he does not, those people tend to experience some very unpleasant … accidents. Honorable deeds do not always need to be done in the open. And it is very clear that we all have different ideas of what qualifies as honorable. I hope you will keep that in mind the next time you try to involve my lord in your petty squabbles. As for the rest of what I would like to say, there isn’t enough time in the day or the night to even begin to express the sheer loathing I have for you and your behavior. Let it suffice to say that your mother was a hamster and your father smelt of elderberry. What other words I have for you, you can strain to hear as we depart. Rest assured, it will be in the most cultured of languages. I think you will find it most refreshing.” He turned to his fellow guards. “Pensword, Moonshade, did either of you have anything to add?”
“Only that I’m ashamed to see such prejudice still exists after all these years. If the legends are true, then it seems that our lord may have another lesson to teach. One can only hope you will learn faster and better than those in the past. Preferably before it’s too late,” Pensword added.
Moonshade fixed the nobles with an icy stare. “My sentiments are well known. I am proud of my heritage and of my people. I am proud of the contributions we have made to preserve this nation, despite the fact we have received scorn, abuse, and worse from, as many nobles are fond of saying, ‘your ilk.’ The sentiments expressed by many of you tonight are the reason many of my people left the cities, and ultimately led to the birth of Nightmare Moon. I urge you to set aside your prejudices before it is too late. Otherwise, you will be doomed to repeat history. And it will be your undoing. If you would be respected by your subjects, show them the respect they deserve in turn, even as Princess Celestia and Princess Luna have. Fear, violence, and blackmail will only foster dissent and disharmony. Do try to keep your souls as clean as your bodies. One never knows when Death will come to claim you.”
“How dare you?” one of the mares practically shrieked. “You presume to judge us? You? A lowly little—?”
“BITE YOUR TONGUE!” The roar came not from Hammer Strike, but from Pensword, and his eyes flashed as he glared with a protective snort at the suddenly recoiling mare. His pupils quivered with his fury, as if they longed to mimic Moonshade’s own when in battle. “She fought to save your miserable life when you cowered in fear at Queen Chrysalis. She knows what it is to see death, face it, and keep moving forward. She knows the horrors of the creatures and villains that would slaughter you in an instant, or worse, leave you to suffer a slow and painful death were it not for her constant watch and those like her. I have seen more honor and commitment in the Thestrals than I have ever seen among the nobles, save for only a few. And I assure you, madam, you are not among them. You are not worthy to even begin to question Major Moonshade’s qualifications, let alone her loyalty or her worthiness. If any of you try to belittle her or threaten her again, I don’t care what your rank is. I will personally make sure you know exactly why it’s important for Equestria to be able to defend itself. And this time, I assure you, there won’t be a single hoof, wing, or horn raised to help you. Not even the gods you hold so dear.”
Moonshade gaped at the stallion. “Pensword….”
“We’re leaving, Moonshade. Our lord requires an escort. We’ve said our pieces. Let’s not linger longer than we have to. The air in here has turned a trifle rancid.”
As the three flanked around Hammer Strike and Rarity, Grif whispered, “Bravo.”
Pensword blushed.
“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a bunch of stuck-up pricks to curse out.” He grinned. “In Phrench.”
As the great doors of the dining hall closed behind the escort, the remaining guests could still hear the vituperation of curses and insults Grif unleashed, even as Demolition Grenado’s raucous laughter and additional snipes added to the tumult. Finally, the portal closed in its entirety, leaving the assemblage to themselves.
“What was that?” one of the nobles finally asked. “I’ve never heard of an Earth Pony conjuring fire before.”
“I have,” the Pony with the helm for his cutie mark said gravely. “Every Pony who’s ever been a part of the guard knows about Celestia’s Ghost; the only other Pony known to partake in the same power as the princess and live to tell the tale. It’s a shade compared to the amount Princess Celestia can wield, but a shade is more than enough.” He looked grimly at the assemblage. “He is not a Pony you want to take on as an enemy, Baron Blueblood. I’m telling you this as a retired professional, as well as a student of history. Don’t toy with him, don’t play with him. Or you will get burned. We all will.”
“Your opinion is noted, Radiant Helm. However, the decision as to whether or not to make an enemy of him is not yours alone,” Baron Blueblood responded. “The first step to defeating an opponent is to know where he stands. After tonight, we have confirmed that beyond all doubt. Now, it is a matter of planning the most efficient method to assail his position and seize it from him. I believe we’ll need to step up our efforts to increase development in the old quarters of the city. If rumor is to be believed, Hammer Strike has a habit of finding riches at the drop of a hat. A war, even one waged in the manner of nobles, is extremely expensive. I expect we all will have to reach deep into our coffers, despite the gains to come from the developers’ bribes. I expect everypony to contribute equally. There will be no exceptions.”
A low groan of dismay filtered slowly through the air.
“It will be worth it in the end if we can stand above Hammer Strike. Such a coup will leave us solidly in control of the house of nobles as the dominant party. And more importantly, it will grant us dominion over the bounty of untapped resources that have been sitting and growing for centuries in the Everfree. It will be a dangerous game, but one whose rewards will make it more than worth your while, should we succeed. And I assure you, ladies and gentlecolts, we will succeed. Hammer Strike may be the genuine article, but that particular Pensword is most definitely a fake. And I should know. The best way to deal with an imposter is to show him the cost behind the charade.” He sneered. “Lord Velvet, I trust you still have contacts in Gryphonia?”
“Of course.”
“I wonder how our savage friends will react when they find out that three of their oldest and most hated enemies have returned from the grave.”
“You want to take on a contract?”
“Perish the thought. But it seems only fair that gossip should travel with your merchants, wouldn’t you say? After all, the return of the Crystal Empire is news enough to shake the world. The fact that an ancient champion has returned along with it would only be natural to report while you bargain. Particularly if you’re dealing with those who seek information over supplies.”
The portly Pony chortled as his mane wobbled like a pile of whipped cream. “I’m sure a deal can be arranged. And for a handsome profit. But one wonders, how do you intend to offer proof?”
“Look no further than what lies before you.” Blueblood gestured toward the seat where Hammer Strike had been. “The cost of a chair, a tablecloth, and some silverware is a small price to pay for verification of identity. Those flying featherbags have always been packrats. I am certain they will be able to compare his scent to something they kept from the war. And then….” He sneered.
“They’ll deal with our enemies for us. Brilliant!” Lord Velvet crowed.
“Well, they should at least be able to kill one. And after that, Hammer Strike will be much easier to manage. Provided the proper steps are taken.”
The round of applause that followed was uproarious. Radiant Helm sipped at his cup, even as his heart dropped to the floor. He owed the Bluebloods for helping him rise to his position. But this….
This was not honorable. More importantly, it was suicidal. There wouldn’t be a chance to act directly, but he had to act all the same. This bordered on the verge of treason. And if the old laws were invoked….
It was time to make a plan of his own.
The remnants of Hammer Strike’s displeasure carved a trail in every carpet, plank, and stone as he stomped deliberately toward the gates. He had no need of Blueblood’s escort, nor did he want it anymore. The guards at the gates eyed him warily as he approached, but a curt order to let him leave was more than enough for them to obey, particularly with the swarm of sparks that still floated around him like fireflies.
For the sake of her wellbeing, Rarity had to step outside the range of Hammer Strike’s fury. Enduring the rising temperatures had left her drained and thirsty. The cool night air was refreshing, but she would feel better after she’d had a chance to drink some water and bathe.
“So, you going to tell us what this is all about?” Grif asked, gesturing at the heatwaves and sparks still gathering around the stallion.
Hammer Strike glanced back towards Grif with a raised brow. “What are you…?” It was then that he finally noticed the sparks and embers in the air. “What is this?”
“Darling, it’s why the whole room was sweating. Did you really not notice? You were ready to burn a hole into the tablecloth,” Rarity pointed out.
“I… didn’t feel it,” he replied, studying the marks left behind by his hooves. “It’s truly coming from me?”
A familiar cry carried through the air as a red light descended from the skies above until Renati’s glowing form settled on Hammer Strike’s back and chirped his approval.
“Considering how Renati is getting a lot more comfortable than usual on you, yes,” Grif replied. Then he smirked wickedly. “You know, if it’s something that needs to be worked out, we could always go back and set fire to Blueblood’s estate.”
“If it weren’t for the potential of accidental harm to the servants, guards, and innocents, I’d contemplate it,” Hammer Strike half joked. “But, currently, I’m now starting to feel more confused.”
“Well, on the plus side, you might be able to use whatever this is in your smithing,” Pensword pointed out. “But … I’m guessing we don’t need a King MIdas incident here, so we should probably ask Princess Celestia about it. Fire is supposed to be one of her specialties, right?” Pensword asked.
“Potentially. It depends on what the main part of this is.” Hammer Strike hummed in thought.
Grif shrugged. “Salamanders.”
“... Care to elaborate, Grif?” Pensword asked as he stared in utter confusion at his friend.
“Salamanders are supposed to be immune to fire, right? They sleep in it, practically live in it. I figure however it happened, Hammer Strike’s got something similar going on. Only way I can think that he hasn’t exploded or combusted by now, considering how hot the air around him was.”
“Regardless, we should go. Princess Celestia is waiting. And as Pensword already pointed out, she might be able to help resolve this problem.”
The journey to the castle was uneventful. Those who laid eyes on the group quickly went about minding their own business. The air was calm when they reached the castle itself, and much to their surprise, Princess Celestia was there at the doors to greet them herself. She raised a brow at the sight of the embers.
“It seems you needed to see me as much as I needed to see you.” She gestured toward the gates. “Come inside. I’m guessing you have quite a story to tell.” The heat from Hammer Strike’s hooves left no scorch marks in their wake by the time they entered the castle, but more than a few servants and guards eyed the sparks and embers warily, lest something potentially catch fire.
Celestia led them into a plain unadorned stone room and turned to face the group. “I assume you trust those two?” she asked, gesturing toward Heavy and Demo.
“They’ll keep quiet. They know the threat that hangs over them if they were to say or do something out of rationality,” Hammer Strike replied. “Additionally, Demolition Grenado won’t remember this by tomorrow.”
“Aye. Cause ah’m drunk!”
“You are always drunk,” Heavy said with a frown.
“Aye. But tonight, I’m dead drunk!”
“... Is this normal?” Celestia asked.
“His body quite literally needs alcohol to function,” Hammer Strike confirmed. “I’ve seen his medical reports on it, though their medic does have some interesting stories and concepts about it.”
“... You have a knack for finding the strangest people.”
“I look for talent and quality. Personality comes second.” Hammer Strike shrugged.
“I see.” She eyed them briefly, then returned her attention to Hammer Strike. “Then let’s begin.” Her horn ignited, and she lowered it as her magic surrounded both horn and Hammer Strike, as it had once before. This time, there was no resistance. First Celestia frowned, then continued to concentrate. Finally, she murmured, “So that’s how it happened.” When she opened her eyes and lifted her spell, Hammer Strike was staring at her intently. The sparks were no longer present. “It appears that an unlikely scenario has taken place. You remember when I had to force my magic on you before?”
“Hard to forget when it came with a similar sensation to burning alive. Why do you ask?”
“It appears that a statistical improbability of astronomical proportions has just been made manifest.”
“Without the Twilight Speak, please?” Grif asked.
“To put it simply, there are some cases of a magical field having to be broken by another’s magic for one reason or another. One of three outcomes can come of this. In the event the breaking was not consensual on the part of the one affected, their magic could be crippled. Secondly, their magic can repair itself afterward and potentially be stronger as a result. We have Clover the Clever to thank for that theory. The third and final possibility is that a sliver of the magic used to break the field is absorbed and integrated into the subject’s field as part of its healing process. It’s an uncommon phenomenon that hasn’t been documented in well over a thousand years. For an average Pony, this won’t generally do harm, and will often help to strengthen their resistance and capability if recovery is properly overseen. I didn’t break your field with the intent of crippling you, and I left the optimal conditions for recovery. It seems that as a result, your field took in a fragment of my solar power. Honestly, … it’s a miracle that you’re still alive right now. Most Ponies would have been immolated by now if they called the power subconsciously.”
Hammer Strike blinked a few times before muttering, “So, it’s tied to that then.” He sighed. “That all makes sense. Hopefully, I’ll manage control over it quickly enough.”
“I believe you will. Though you are one of the first Earth Ponies to manifest a power other than strength or nature that Equestria has ever seen. If you require assistance, I’ll do my best to provide it.”
Hammer Strike frowned. “Perhaps later, when I am prepared to learn forced manifestations of it. For now, I’m not in the best place for it mentally.”
“Then perhaps a change of discussion is in order. Have you been able to share the contents of the letter I wrote?”
“No. Honestly, I used it as an immediate out, and haven’t had the time to discuss it with the others.” He shook his head.
“I thought you might. That’s one reason why I had the summons sent. I hope Prince Blueblood didn’t go too far over the line.”
“Prince Blueblood, no. Baron Blueblood was mostly civil. Some of his guests, however….” Pensword let out a low growl.
“Let’s just say that your letter was timely, princess. We were probably about 5.3 seconds away from making that gathering into a massacre,” Grif added.
“Then it’s a good thing it reached you all in time.” She looked at the phoenix on Hammer Strike’s back. “By the way, who’s your new friend?”
“Renati.” Hammer Strike glanced back to the phoenix. “Seemed to take a liking to me.”
Celestia blinked. “An interesting name. It’s rare for a phoenix to choose to live with another, rather than in the wild.”
Renati looked gravely at the princess and nodded his head briefly.
“It seems he takes after you in decorum as well.”
“Probably the reason he accepts me.”
“Or he sees something else in you that may require him later. Phoenixes have a curious habit of appearing to certain people in times of need. To this day, scholars still haven’t been able to figure it out.”
Hammer Strike gave a shrug in response.
“As for the letter, it pertains more to you, Pensword.”
“How so?” Pensword asked.
“In order for you to properly make full use of your expertise and experience, we need a reason to let you do so. It’s our intent to practice a form of subterfuge with you to that end. Since Matthew can no longer be a part of the day to day events of your mission in the Everfree, we will ‘transfer’ his memories into your brain at his request, as a means to ensure that the mission can continue, and to ensure that should a means be found to return you to Earth, your family can be notified of your service to the crown.”
Pensword frowned. “That’s a little convoluted, but … I suppose if I thought there was no other option, I would want to make sure my family knew what happened from someone who knew me. You can’t get much closer than having my memories. There will have to be a caveat, though. All technology and other such secrets that Matthew may have would be required to be kept secret. They cannot be given to anyone here in Equestria by me as Pensword.”
“A reasonable request,” Celestia agreed. “And one that would doubtless frustrate any who would try to exploit those memories to no end.”
“Then consider it done,” Pensword agreed.
“Good. That’s one more way to protect you from the political wranglings any nobles might try as well. You’d make a desirable catch for many a mare in the modern day. And since you are not currently married, well, … many would consider you fair game. The implication behind this transference and the mission associated with it should help to deter any that might have undue designs toward you to raise their prestige.”
“Why would they do that?”
Celestia cocked her head in confusion. “I thought you knew.”
“Knew what?”
“Pensword was granted a noble title in honor of his services during the Third Gryphon War. By rights, that rank still technically belongs to you now, even after all these centuries have passed.”
“What?” Pensword practically shrieked.
Grif patted Pensword on the back. “Congratulations, my friend. You are officially a part of the monarchy.”
“But I … I’m not—” he spluttered. “I’m an American for crying out loud!”
“You’re a Pony, in Equestria, currently serving as a commander for a noble in Equestria. I think you’ve got your priorities already mixed up for that,” Hammer Strike noted with a raised brow.
“That’s an act, though. It’s not like I really have been given those titles!”
“Suck it up, buttercup,” Grif said. “You’re Pensword, so you’d better own up to the hype.”
Pensword groaned. “Bad day….”
“It’s not all bad,” Celestia promised as she opened the chamber’s door to enter back into the halls. “And you will find that there are also good Ponies who will be valuable friends and allies. Some might even say family by the time you get to meet them all. But that’s enough talk of meetings and formalities. I’m certain Hammer Strike was able to eat. What about the rest of you?”
“Celestia, I know you’re not the most clever Pony in the world, but even you should know guards don’t eat when they’re protecting their employer at an event,” Grif pointed out.
“It’s a thing we call courtesy, Grif. I’m sure you’ve heard of it? Most people prefer not to assume without reasonable surety, lest they make fools of themselves,” Celestia pointed out. “And as princess, I can’t allow myself to look like a fool unless there’s an important reason behind it.”
“So next time you do, we should expect some big plan is underway that you’ve laid out, probably involving Twilight and her friends. Got it.”
“I never said that.”
“You didn’t have to, Princess. I got a look at the record Twilight keeps for her friendship letters. She’s very eager to share what she learns. And it seems that the biggest ones always involve you in one way or another. Pair that with the fact they’re a military asset for the kingdom, and it’s fairly obvious you’re going to want to pull some strings to make them stronger.”
“We’re getting off topic,” Celestia said smoothly to divert the conversation. “Come, I’ll bring you to the kitchens for a proper meal. It won’t be the feast you received when you first arrived, but it will most definitely be filling.”
“So long as there’s meat.”
“Of course there will be. After all, we have to make sure my sister’s guards remain healthy and strong.” She smiled as they passed by a set of windows. The dim vale of twilight had begun to descend. “If you’ll excuse me a moment.” She charged her horn, and as she did, the last rays of day receded into night while the silvery light of the moon and stars spread like a soothing blanket over the night sky and through the rafters. Silvery sparkles drifted on the moonbeams to coalesce in front of Celestia, manifesting a scroll embossed in silver. The princess paused to read the contents, then nodded. “It seems that my sister would like to see you before her nightly rounds, Major Moonshade.”
Moonshade nodded. “I’ll go to her at once.”
“You can look for us in the kitchen or dining hall after you finish. If you don’t find us there, it’s likely that we’ll already have adjourned for the night.”
“Thank you, Your Highness,” Moonshade said with a bow, then looked at Pensword as she rose. “I’ll return soon.”
A light crack worked its way into Pensword’s voice. “We’ll be waiting.”
Moonshade turned and flew as quickly as her wings would take her. When she was certain she was out of sight, she allowed the smile to pull at her lips, even as the rhythm of her heart beat to a new drum and a faster tempo.
The journey to Princess Luna’s apartments was swift. The solar guards on duty were often more sluggish, and with the change to night only just completing, the lunar guards would yet have been able to take up their full patrols. A swift security check and a brief nod of approval soon ushered her through to face her chieftess. Princess Luna stood resolutely as she gazed over the city’s lights and the sights and sounds of Ponies and other creatures far below. Some were preparing for bed. Others were rousing for night shifts or otherwise preparing for various jobs, some legitimate, some very much not. It was a curious dance, one that Luna had not been able to observe in the past. Back then, Ponies still sought to live by the day alone. Yes, much had changed over the last thousand years and more.
Moonshade bowed to Luna. “You summoned me, High Chieftess?” she asked formally.
The Alicorn of the night turned to gaze at Moonshade with a neutral mask. “I thank you for answering my summons so quickly, Major,” she greeted. “Please, rise.”
Moonshade did so. “How may I be of service?”
Luna smiled fondly as she cradled Moonshade’s chin. “Oh, my dear child, you have done so much in service to me already. And you will yet do much more before your time is done.” She shook her head gently. “It is not an assignment that brings you here, Major, but rather a gift. And some valuable information. I believe you will need to know it. Some, you will thank me for. For the other, I fear I will not be so fortunate.” She gestured toward a small table and a pair of chairs. “Please, sit.”
As Moonshade took her chair, Luna levitated a pair of steins to the table, then poured from a small cask of rich cider. “Chieftess?” she asked as a worried frown overtook the sense of giddiness she had felt just a few short minutes ago.
“Drink, Major. Then we shall talk.” Luna took a long pull from her stein, then gave a lusty sigh as she returned the heavy vessel to the table’s surface. When Moonshade had taken a shorter sip, Luna nodded and began. “There are three orders of business that need to be conducted tonight. The first is one that will not require ceremony. We know each other too well to focus on flowery speeches and grand events. First, I wish to congratulate you. A flick of her horn summoned a flowing cape from a nearby chest. It was carefully embroidered with silver and black thread on the dark blue background.” With this mantle, I hereby promote you to the rank of Lieutenant Colonel in the Lunar Guard.”
Moonshade stared in utter bewilderment at the garment. “But, … you only recently promoted me to Major. I am honored, but isn’t this too sudden?”
Luna smiled. “You have earned it for your resilience and your immense discipline, even in the face of events that defy explanation.”
“But—”
“But me no buts, Lieutenant,” Luna said. “I do not give this promotion lightly. I made that mistake once a long time ago. And I paid for it when I fell to the nightmare. The tribes are still paying for that mistake to this day.”
“Forgive me, Chieftess, but … I don’t understand.”
Luna gave a sad smile. “You are aware of the crippling and corruptive effects of dark magic, I assume.”
Moonshade nodded.
“King Sombra is a terrible example of what happens when one allows that power to take root and grow. Everything he touched was corrupted and bent to his will or driven to the point where their very spirits were broken, and trauma and magic both bound their hearts and memories. These were all Ponies who had little loyalty or trust in this false king. And yet, he was able to control them utterly. How much greater an effect do you think might be had from one who bore the trust, love, and undying loyalty of her troops without any thought to question or push back?”
“Chieftess?”
“Tell me, Moonshade, what do you know of the terror guards?”
Fire and ice blossomed together, sending Moonshade’s heart into a swirl of confusion, alarm, and anxiety as the forces clashed, exploded, then pulled away to regroup. “I know there are some who would bear that title proudly today. They would see Equestria overthrown in favor of Thestral dominance. They would trample the ideals that protect our lands from the windigos.”
“They would do more than that if they could. They would, as I once did in my fallen state, seek to create an everlasting night, one in which Thestrals could thrive. And for some, where they could drink the blood of those they deemed lesser than themselves.”
“No!” Moonshade shook her head vehemently. “Nopony would wish for that today.”
“Hate and anger can do terrible things to a Pony when they’re allowed to fester, Moonshade,” Luna said quietly. “And they can and do lead to monstrous acts. Allow enough of that darkness into your heart, and it will eventually change you and your magic. Nightmare Moon did just that to my friends, the lifelines I clung to with all of my strength, and yet, who I could not protect from wrongful imprisonment and persecution. When Nightmare Moon came to them, they accepted her gifts gladly. And they wreaked a terrible vengeance. They murdered, mocked, and destroyed. They tortured and broke the spirits of so many Ponies. And they did it all with smiles on their faces. They spread that sickness to many more Thestrals before they were finally stopped and ultimately destroyed. Without the cleansing power of the Elements of Harmony, my sister had no means to save them. No way to redeem their corrupted souls.” Luna swiped the tears from her eyes and took another pull. “She had to burn every single one of them. And now we hunt the dregs that survived to this day so that we will never repeat those terrible events again.”
“We?”
“A select few, those I know won’t be swayed, and who have sufficient skill to fulfill the task. As I said, we cannot allow that sickness to thrive again.”
“But that’s insane!”
Again, Luna shook her head. “Ponies look to my sister and I as gods. We try to discourage that notion, but it still exists, and it prevails in the hearts and minds of many. Being so closely tied to the moon and the sun have given us lives well beyond the normal span, even for our species. My sister can travel wherever her sun’s light touches in an instant. And I, too, can travel by moonlight. Nightmare Moon traveled by shadow and darkness. These traits and powers combined with the manipulation of our elements and longevity are bound to give birth to extremists and zealots. And they long for even a taste of that kind of power. So they will do whatever it takes to ensure that their ‘god’ will succeed in the brainsickly plans they think are our will. For those who worship my sister, it is a world where she controls and governs all, and only her chosen can rule and reign above the rest with impunity. For those who worship me, it is a war of conquest to ensure the enduring freedom of Thestralkind, along with their superiority over the races that hunted them and persecuted them from generation to generation. Ponies are fickle. In groups, they can be quite shortsighted, simply following a leader they think knows what’s best without thinking for themselves. It must be discouraged at all costs. Fortunately, thus far, we are succeeding. And if memory serves, one of your qualifications for recommendation to the guard was apprehending a group of those who had taken on that accursed name.”
“I was performing a civic duty, nothing more.”
“You were righting a terrible wrong that I had a hand in committing, even if indirectly. You have an unerring sense of duty that cannot be swayed. That is your strength. And that is what impressed me most when I first met you. That, and your willingness to protect me and Ponykind, despite the risk it may pose to your life. As I said, you will go far, Lieutenant. And you will have a greater effect on Equestria’s future than you can even begin to imagine.”
“Is … this a prophecy, Chieftess?”
Luna shook her head. “No. It is my own surety. I know your potential. And I know what I say will come to pass. It will rely upon you and your choices. But if you choose right, as I know you will, then you will help to bring about a great change. And you will be remembered for it through the annals of history.”
“That … is a great expectation.”
“Perhaps, but it is one I know you will meet. As do your fellow guardsponies.”
“Won’t this be viewed as favoritism?”
“Perhaps, but we both know that no Thestral would sully another’s honor in such a way. And that is what is important right now.”
“And the other things you needed to discuss with me?”
Luna sighed. “Take another drink first. This … will possibly be unpleasant for you.”
Moonshade did as she was bidden, then looked at her high chieftess in confusion.
“I don’t have to enter your dreams to know the state of your mind, Moonshade. You have grown closer and closer to Pensword the longer you have spent time with him.”
“Is this a reprimand?” Moonshade asked.
Luna shook her head. “No. It is an observation. You have developed feelings for him.”
Moonshade felt a flush rise to her cheeks that had nothing to do with the alcohol she was drinking. “Naturally, we are friends. We fought together in the field of battle. It’s only natural that we should be comrades.”
“You are more than comrades, Lieutenant. Or rather, I believe that you would like to be. That is not a bad thing. However, there is something that I believe you need to know.” She poured herself another drink and took a long pull, draining the stein. When she opened her eyes again, her gaze was flat and serious. “Pensword is indeed the Pensword of the Third Gryphon War. Or, to be more precise, I believe he will be.”
“You … believe,” Moonshade repeated, landing heavily on that second word, even as she felt a constriction in her chest.
“My sister has been alive for a very long time. And unlike me, she did not have the benefit of being sealed away with her more recent memories intact. Time eventually takes its toll on all of us. And on our memories. Celestia remembers the horrors of the war. Such things are difficult, if not impossible to forget. But the faces and names of dear ones past can sometimes blur, as can their other defining features. Celestia could not be certain, but I am. Pensword’s cutie mark is the same. The only thing that gives even a remote piece of doubt for me as to his identity is the fact that he transformed into a Pegasus, not the half breed that the Pensword of history was. And such a thing is easily remedied if he but asks.”
“Why not a full Thestral, then?”
“Because that is not his true nature. And you should know that better than most. He will fight for those he loves. And he honors and respects those who walk the warrior’s path. But his heart lies closer to the nature of a Pegasus than it does a Thestral. And he has the mind of a scholar. I would not alter his nature to take those things from him. And neither will the magic that gives him his form now. Hearts can be changed, as can natures in time. But at this time and this place, it is such that he can only ever become part, not the whole.”
“And you expect him to make such a request?”
“You expect him to not?”
Moonshade averted her eyes as the memory of Pensword making that very suggestion returned with a terrible force of dread.
“As I said, you will not thank me for some of what I have to say this night.”
“You said there was a third thing you needed to tell me.” Moonshade didn’t look at her chieftess. Instead, she chugged what remained in her vessel and raised her hoof for another helping.
Luna nodded. “Yes.”
“What is it, then?”
“I want you to stay with Pensword.”
Moonshade tightened her grip on her tankard. “You want me to stay with him, knowing what you just told me?”
Luna nodded again. “I do. There is still a chance, albeit a small one, that he is not the Pensword I remember, and that he will never be that Pensword. However, that does not change the fact that word of the return of Hammer Strike, Grif Grafson, and Pensword has spread from the Crystal Empire. They had many enemies once, Moonshade. And those enemies will have passed that hatred on from generation to generation. There is no intelligence yet, but I suspect those who have inherited that hatred will take action against our friends.”
“So, you want me to guard them.”
“As you always have,” Luna agreed. “I want you to watch and protect them as best you know how. Arrange for silent surveillance and security details. And whatever you do, do not let yourself be separated from Pensword. Hammer Strike and Grif are both capable of protecting themselves, should the worst come to pass. Pensword, however, specializes mainly in long distance combat. If he is caught unawares, without his wing blades and sword, or even with them, it is possible that his enemies will succeed in killing him. And that is something that must not come to pass.”
“And you can’t entrust this to anyone else?”
Luna shook her head. “It has to be you, Moonshade. And if you take the time to think about it, I think you’ll know why.”
Moonshade was quiet for a time. “I can’t thank you for this assignment, Chieftess.”
“I know.” Luna sighed. “I know. For now, though, you must treat him as you always have. He has feelings for you, too, I believe. I never said you shouldn’t pursue those feelings. I only said that you should be aware of who he yet may become, and to be ready should that turn out to be the case.”
“Permission to speak bluntly?”
“Granted.”
“This bucks.”
Luna nodded her agreement and levitated the cask to refresh Moonshade’s tankard. “Here. Have another. You can start mapping your heart after we get drunk.”
Pensword looked down at his meal and ran his spoon passively through it with a wing, not really putting much thought into it as he took a bite, then returned to his playing. The taste didn’t even register to his senses. Something was missing. Something didn’t feel right. About him, about the dinner. He felt … strange. It took another few minutes before he finally realized what was wrong, and he didn’t know if he should feel better at finally identifying it, or worse because of what it implied. Moonshade wasn’t there. She’d practically become one of them by this point. She’d saved their lives, fought with them for the same goals, and even helped them to adapt to the aspects of this world that they couldn’t on their own. And then there was his reaction before they left the dinner…. He hadn’t felt that kind of fury in a long time, and yet the thought of the words that mare was about to utter set his blood to boiling. Even now, he could feel that same gall rising in his chest and throat. “Can we include Moonshade in our group officially?” he finally blurted out.
“And by officially you mean…?” Grif asked, biting into another piece of fish that the cooks had just finished brazing in the oven.
“Well, where we go, she goes. I feel like she was left out when we ended up in the Crystal Empire, but … at the same time, I worry that doing something like this could….” Even as he spoke, some of that heat gathered in his cheeks and across the bridge of his muzzle. “Doing something like this might jeopardize the past with this Lunar Fang that I may or may not have. I … Grif, … I didn’t realize it till tonight, but … I think I may have some feelings for Moonshade. And … I don’t know how to deal with that.”
Grif took another bite of his meal casually and rolled his eyes, then sighed as he looked at his friend. “Okay, let’s cover something right now, Pensword. You really need to stop worrying about this Lunar Fang thing. And believe me from the depths of my heart when I say that your thing with Moonshade will not endanger your future with Lunar Fang, nor will it be against any kind of divine law. She’s a Pony, you’re a Pony. You’re both consenting, sapient adults. It’s not a sin, it’s not a crime, and it certainly won’t cause you any trouble.” The Gryphon chuckled. “Trust me. You're just causing yourself undue stress.”
Pensword sighed. “I still don’t know, but … I suppose I have to trust in you for now. I don’t know if I can trust myself.”
Grif smiled. “What else are friends for, if not to smack some sense into other friends when they’re acting like idiots?”
“Grif!”
The Gryphon smirked. “They do say love makes fools of us all, Pensword.”
Pensword couldn’t help but chuckle, despite himself. “You’d better remember that when you finally fall head over heels for someone.”
Grif shrugged. “If I do fall in love, I’ll make sure that I treat her right. People call it a game, but it’s not. It’s a commitment. And I intend to make sure that it’s kept properly.”
“I want to as well,” Pensword agreed. “It’s just … overwhelming sometimes, you know? Especially with how important marriage is to my culture.” He sighed again. “Do you think you can tell me about the wedding? The one he had, I mean. The history book didn’t really go into detail over it. Since you read faster and remember better, I figured you might know.”
Grif nodded. “I do.”
“Can you tell me about it?”
Grif nodded. “I can.”
There was a long, awkward pause as the two stared at one another while Grif continued to eat.
“Will you tell me about it?”
Grif smiled. “Of course. You just had to ask.” He cleared his throat and cast his thought back over the records he had studied. “Let’s see. What can I tell you to avoid spoilers? Obviously, since we haven’t lived it yet, and don’t know for sure if we will, I can’t give you extreme details. But the books I read did give me a few things to go off of. Pensword and Lunar Fang were married during the Third Gryphon War. By Princess Luna herself, if you can believe it. Details of the wedding are sketchy. For some reason, historians of the time seemed to be unusually biased against Thestral culture and traditions. I wonder why?” he said sardonically. “Anyway, after the wedding, the two had to separate to their respective posts. There was a war going on, after all, and each of their talents were needed at different fronts. They spent many large battles apart from each other. It’s said that the two met again before the end of the war, and after that reunion, Lunar Fang was no longer allowed to fight directly.” Grif cleared his throat. “Now, I’m no expert, but given what I’ve seen of Moonshade and other Thestrals, they’re serious warriors. There are only a few things that can make them give up fighting without facing or feeling dishonor. Records indicate that Lunar Fang sat out the remainder of the war. She was unable to follow Lord Hammer Strike’s final charge in the north because of certain reasons that were not elaborated on. But I think enough is implied that you can guess her condition.”
“She was sick?” Pensword asked. “If Pensword loved her, I doubt he would have left her side.” He frowned. “I know that I wouldn’t.”
Grif stared flatly at Penword for a solid minute. “She was in the family way, Pensword. You know, expecting, pregnant?”
“Oh.” Pensword’s eyes widened as the weight of that casual statement descended with all the aplomb of a boulder off a cliff. “Oh!” He swallowed heavily. “He. You mean I … that we….”
“Remember what I said about undue stress, Pensword,” Grif reminded him.
“How would you react if you were told you were going to be a father and husband in an arranged marriage?”
“Who said it was arranged?”
“Grif….” Pensword growled.
“Time is what you make of it, Pensword,” Grif said grimly. “The Doctor exists here. That means that his rules of time apply, including that time can in fact be rewritten, and likely is on a regular basis. You have a choice. You will always have a choice. Now, do you want to keep complaining or do you want me to get back to quoting history?”
Pensword sighed in defeat. “I’m sorry. Please, go on.”
Grif nodded. “From what talks I’ve been able to have with Moonshade about it, most historians agree that the marriage was deemed a turning point in the fight for equal rights and representation for Thestrals in Equestrian society during that era. While the term Bat Bird and others like it are very harsh now, such insults were grounds to be expelled from where you lived back then. It even went so far as to include the potential to be stripped of one’s rank if the offense was repeated too many times by nobles. And that was with the approval of both Princess Luna and Princess Celestia. They were serious about making effective change for the better, at least for a time. It helped that Pensword had earned such immense prestige. Due to his Pegasus feathers, despite his mixed heritage, he was officially recognized as a Pegasus to give him a better chance and ensure greater respect from those who would serve under him. And when a Pegasus of such prestige married a Thestral, that set off the waves to start the change. You were the first rock that started the ripple effect, Pensword. You or your namesake, or both if you are him.”
“All that from a humble background.” He smiled. “Kind of like George Washington, huh?”
“Only instead of overthrowing his own monarchs, Pensword helped topple one that was far worse,” Grif agreed. “He gained eloquence from his father, or so the records say, as I’m sure you know. A poet can move the hearts of man and beast if he can but find the right words. And Pensword’s father made sure his son learned the skills necessary to apply those gifts he had honed over his lifetime for Pensword’s future, as did the members of his mother’s tribe through their oral tradition. Passion, eloquence, and a will of steel. Pensword’s pen was one that would not break. And his words were backed by action. Whether written or spoken, he honored his word, and he carried out the things he set forth to do. In that way, he’s a lot like the human Matthew.”
Pensword blushed. “That’s not really a fair comparison.”
“Fighting for one’s life and living through multiple surgeries on one of the most vital organs in any body is definitely a fair comparison. Matthew pushed on, despite opposition and setback. And he made a life for himself with friends and loved ones. That is a feat of will. And it takes that same will to succeed against that kind of bigotry and opposition, along with a nimble mind.”
Pensword sighed. “That makes Pensword the lynch pin of one of the biggest changes ever to take place in society, doesn’t it?”
“He’s not the only one, but he is a large factor, yes,” Grif agreed. “Hammer Strike and Grif were also key figures. As was Lunar Fang, and even Princess Luna and Celestia. Each played their roles. It’s not so much a lynch pin as it is a jenga piece or a cog in a complex mechanism. Pull out enough parts, and the rest of the device won’t function properly. Or the tower will collapse. Take your pick.” He shrugged. “The point is if we are to go to that time and fight in the war as our namesakes, then we will get to it when we do. It doesn’t pay to worry about it now. It already happened, which means it’s highly likely that we’ll have help to make sure we fulfill our roles properly. And if we aren’t to go back anymore, then we don’t have to deal with it, and we can continue to move forward with things as they are in the present.”
Pensword groaned and thumped his chin on the table. “I hate time travel,” he grumbled.
Grif smirked. “Most people do when it gets to paradox levels.”
“Won’t we risk altering the future with our knowledge of what’s going to happen after the war, though?”
“Maybe.” Grif shrugged. “But it already happened, which means we’ll probably muddle through it somehow. And if we mess up, The Doctor or somebody else can come help. As for your original question about a certain mare being official, you should know she already is, at least in spirit. She’s our guard. She goes with us, helps us, and trains the recruits alongside us. She has been with us through every stage, practically since the beginning. Hammer Strike and I have considered her one of us for a long time. I think what you’re really asking for is permission to let her be more than a friend to you. Farbeit for me to approve or forbid your potential relationship. That’s a sky you need to navigate on your own, my friend. I can be a wingman, but the rest is ultimately up to you and whoever you’re flying with. Let things develop naturally. Be yourself, ask her out if you feel it’s right, and just move forward from there.
“If you really want something to worry about, think about the fact that we’ll eventually have to face Discord ourselves. It’s inevitable, because chaos is a lynchpin of the universe, just like order is. That means he’s bound to escape again and regain his powers. When it happens, we’ll have steps ready. Chaos is as much a part of us as order or harmony. We just have to roll with it. After all, it was the chaos of the Third Gryphon War that led to the change in Thestral status, not harmony.”
“I suppose so.” Pensword sighed. “Is it really all right for us to go in there? The old castle, I mean.”
Grif nodded. “It’s fine. Old, a little worn from years of neglect, but fine. It’ll be a nice castle once we get the portcullis repaired. And maybe get a better bridge set up. A few coats of paint, some masons to tend to any integrity issues, and we’ll be set to go. The courtyard already has a barracks built into the east wall. And given the number of troops we have currently stationed here, there should be more than enough room once we get inside.”
“Then I suppose that will be our priority.”
“That and a name,” Grif said.
“What?”
“A name. Every city has to have a name, Pensword. We can’t just keep calling it The Palace of the Two Sisters. Especially when we’re supposed to restore it to its former glory. Heck, according to history, you named a Gryphon outpost you captured after Lunar Fang. And she, in turn, named her command post during the Siege of Phillydelphia Camp Pensword in honor of you.”
“And now you’re making me blush….”
Grif shrugged. “It was your gesture, not mine.”
“Grif, why is it that you always seem to want to tease people?”
“I’m part cat. Cats always love messing with people.” Grif shrugged again. “Why fight the nature when it’s more fun to embrace it?”
Pensword facehoofed.
Finally, Grif rose from his seat and stretched with a loud groan. “Anyway, I think I’m going to visit the library before I go to bed. I’m in the mood for a little reading. I’ll leave you to your thoughts. Try not to get sucked into all those what-ifs and maybes, okay? Trust me, it’s not worth it.”
“This coming from the man who approved the adage ‘hope for the best, plan for the worst.’”
Grif shrugged. “There are always exceptions.” Then he smirked. “See you later, Pensword.”
The Hall of Records was divided into a veritable maze of doorways and passages deliberately designed to divert and conceal while simultaneously providing modes of entrance and exit to preserve records in case of emergency or attack. Princess Celestia wished for her new capitol to be one of peace, not of war. But even she had conceded the necessity of safety measures for state secrets and mundane records alike. A multitude of scribes and shorthand stenographers worked regularly in the throne room and the Hall of Records in equal measure. Those with lesser clearance were able to handle the normal day-to-day tasks. Restoring parchment and scrolls, filling or replacing inkwells, providing spare quills, and other tasks as required. Others with higher clearance worked with documents ranging from trade deputations to treaties, requests for aid, and more. Some came from within the kingdom’s bounds. Others came from the lands beyond. It took a keen mind and towering intellect to transcribe, organize, and catalog each of these requests. And an even greater one to oversee each aspect of this bureaucratic structure that was so essential to the kingdom’s day-to-day operations.
Fine Cursive was one such mare. Her office was far from opulent. Such things were not practical in her line of work. But it was comfortable, neat, and properly organized. Sufficient lighting ensured that no mistakes would be made, and that older text could be easily scrutinized and copied or revitalized as needed. Magic had its purposes, but sometimes the mundane methods were better. It also allowed for more diversity in the palace staff, something that Princess Celestia had absolutely insisted on as the years went by. Merit by talent is an important asset to make use of in a kingdom if one wishes to keep it strong. The mare was just reviewing a copy of one of the princess’ latest missives for errors prior to archiving when the door to her office creaked open. The quill that was the symbol of her office, one of Philomena’s phoenix feathers, halted and nearly snapped when the mare gazed on her latest visitor.
Hammer Strike took a moment to look around the space before settling on the mare and advancing towards her desk. “Hello. Celestia recommended I come by to reaffirm something with my own records.”
It took the mare a moment to regain her composure. The pen was put down, and she peered at the stallion with some confusion, then wiped the expression from her face, resuming a cool and well-schooled one instead. “I was informed you might be coming, but I admit that I didn’t really expect it. Most nobles don’t care for this place. They know I can’t be bought for information they shouldn’t have. You can follow me, m’lord. As I’m sure you’ve seen, the halls can be somewhat confusing to the untrained Pony.”
“I’m certain they can be.” Hammer Strike nodded. “I presume you’ve spent quite some time memorizing the halls yourself.”
“It’s part of the job,” she agreed. “There are other safeguards, of course, but in my position, I know how to navigate them, and they’re not generally activated unless a serious attack is underway. Was there any particular section of the archives you were hoping to view? I was told you would come, but not specifically what you might be looking for.”
“As I said before, I’m here to see my own records in particular.”
Fine Cursive nodded and grabbed a leather-bound book from off the table, along with a spare pot of ink and the quill that was her badge of office. “Very well, then. Follow me. Your personal records are kept in one of the higher security areas of the archives.” They walked for what felt like an interminable distance before they finally drew near to a green light. “There we are. Apologies for any dizziness or headaches. There’s an enchantment on this particular wing designed to meddle with a person’s cognition and make the journey seem longer than it really is. Once you’ve been properly integrated into the system’s safety features as an authorized entity, you won’t have to deal with it again.” They turned around a corner to reveal a squad of soldiers flanking a large set of massive stone doors. Five were from the Solar Guard and five from the Lunar Guard. “This is the secondary and tertiary failsafe,” Cursive explained. “While you might think that the guards are the main deterrent, the real one lies in the doors themselves. As you can see, these doors are made from pure stone. Enchantments have been woven into them to ensure that magic can’t be used to teleport past them. And few, if any Unicorns can even muster the strength to so much as budge them. What is required is the strength of an Alicorn. Or, as records tell us in history, the strength of Lord Hammer Strike himself.”
“Sounds about right.” Hammer Strike nodded. “With how thick the doors seem to be, I would anticipate others would have a hard time moving it.”
“The tolerance was tested to ensure that even the strongest of Earth Ponies wouldn’t be able to buck it. And any weaknesses or flaws in the stonework have been magically reinforced by the princesses themselves. They wouldn’t trust anyone else to do the job.” She gestured toward the doors and the halo of green light. “After you, Sir.”
Hammer Strike raised a brow and shrugged internally before moving into the circle of light. The guards were each at the ready, their respective weapons drawn, their bodies tense. However, as the Earth Pony stepped fully into the light to face them, the squad relaxed immediately as he approached the door, then looked questioningly at Fine Cursive.
“It’s good to see you, Sir.” Each of the soldiers saluted in kind, and Fine Cursive entered the light’s range next with her quill safely tucked into a button hole.
“Lord Hammer Strike would like to access his records. As lead scribe, I authorize his access, per the orders of Princess Celestia and Princess Luna.”
The guards saluted again and made room for the pair. “The gate is yours, Sir,” a Unicorn said. “It will be an honor to see your strength in action.”
Hammer Strike nodded in return and moved toward the large stone doors. He prepared himself in hopes that he could live up to the expectations and pushed at the doors. While it took a bit of effort to open, he kept his expression firm. Slowly, steadily, even as his limbs threatened to shake with the effort, and he felt the blood flowing to his face, the doors began to grind and gradually bow inward as the slit between them became more prominent. Finally, he managed to open them wide enough to allow ponies passage in single file.
“Incredible,” one of the guards murmured in awe at the sight.
A frowning Fine Cursive approached the doors and nodded. “If you don’t mind, I’ll follow you inside. There’s a final formality that I need to address, and it needs to be done in private.”
“Sounds good to me.” Hammer Strike sighed internally and pressed on.
Fine Cursive followed behind, then gestured toward the doors again. A pair of large metal rings had been carefully inserted into the stone to grant leverage for pulling the doors open again. “If you would?”
Hammer Strike nodded and proceeded to close the door behind them.
Rather than torches, a series of silvery stones embedded in sconces lit up with a gentle silver light that pulsed off the pale stones of the chamber. Fine Cursive pulled the book out and opened it to reveal a list of names that filled up half the pages. It was a registry. “I need you to sign in here.” She pointed to the bottom of the list, then held out her quill to him, followed by opening the inkwell for use. Hammer Strike leaned in to sign, then stopped as he stared at the last signature on the column. “Why do you hesitate?” the mare asked.
Hammer Strike looked to the mare briefly before returning to sign his name. “It’s nothing, just thought I saw something.”
Fine Cursive closed the inkwell and returned it to her pocket, then looked closely at the signature, and finally at Hammer Strike. After a good long stare, she finally took back the quill itself and examined it carefully before returning her attention to Hammer Strike. “All right. It’s time to address the things I mentioned before we came in here. First of all, why did you come back after you already came here last night? Secondly, are you wearing a glamour?”
“Celestia simply wanted me to reaffirm something in my records. As for the glamour, technically yes? But, it’s a bit more complicated to explain. Why do you ask?”
“I neglected to mention certain defenses due to the possibility of you being a Changeling or some other form of imposter. The opening of the doors and signing the ledger with your name using my quill are meant to be the final tests, since this quill won’t allow lies to be written, and no normal Pony can open or close these doors. However, the green lamps outside are another safeguard that was installed more recently. They were designed after the Changeling invasion. Their purpose is to disrupt the wavelengths of a Changeling’s magic, thus forcing them to drop their disguise. Thus far, the tests have proved fruitful, or so I’ve been told. The princesses intend to distribute them gradually throughout the capital and the kingdom once enough are able to be produced. Once I verified you weren’t a changeling, the disparity in your appearance from last night and today were things that still needed to be addressed. A glamour explains it, though I can only assume you must have gotten it from Princess Celestia if she told you to come back here again.”
“I don’t look that different, do I?”
“To the untrained eye, perhaps. But I am the head archivist and lead scribe. Noticing disparity is my specialty. And you have more than a few. Though it was difficult for me to see all of them with your coat on, of course. The most notable feature that I could see was the fact you were missing a tip from your left ear. And though your fur did help to obscure them, there were some rather prominent scars.”
“I … suppose that’s fair.” Hammer Strike reined in his concern. “Well, not everyone is capable of tolerating such an appearance, and I did have a meeting to attend earlier today,” he reasoned, trying his best to not complicate things further.
“... I sense that you’re not telling me everything, but that is your decision. You’ve proven who you are. Your motivation for coming here, whether true or not, and any disparity in your appearance, are your affair. I’ll not pry further. Please, feel free to look over your records. I’ll wait by the door until you finish.”
Hammer Strike nodded as he moved onward to where his record was located. A number of placards glowed with golden script as he passed them. Some were coated in layers of dust from centuries of waiting. Others were better tended, most likely due to their more frequent reference. At last, he arrived at the one that bore his name and pulled back the drawer to reveal the massive number of files associated with his accounts and adventures. Each was watermarked with his personal house seal, one that he had only just finished drafting himself recently. Yet another evidence of the time travelling that awaited him.
As he leafed through each of the papers, a prominent envelope caught his eye. It was the only one of its kind, an object that definitely didn’t belong with such uniformity enforced. And yet, there it was. His surprise mounted even more when he noted the wax seal. Once again, his coat of arms was present. However, what really caught his eye was the familiar flowing script that bedecked the envelope. His script.
“Oh great,” Hammer Strike muttered, pocketing the letter, as this was definitely not the place to read it. Once he confirmed there was nothing else of note, he returned back to Fine Cursive.
“Finished already, Sir?”
“Yeah, I found what I needed to find.”
The mare nodded. “Then we can go. If you require any other guidance or direction, please, feel free to ask. It will be my pleasure to assist.”
“Thankfully, that should be everything.” Hammer Strike nodded as he gripped the rings of the doors, a single thought burning in his mind. He needed to get back to his room and read the message. What worried him most was the possibility of being left with more questions than answers.
Grif’s talons clacked along the castle floor in an ominous staccato as he strode through the halls with a book tucked under one arm. His studies had been interrupted by the shadowy summons of one of Luna’s guards emerging from outside the circle of candlelight. There was a strange sort of ambience that bordered on the mysterious and mythical when reading in a large library at night. Combined with the smell of ancient parchment and paper, it was a comforting sensation. While Grif and Taze both knew how to put up a front for the public, that didn’t mean he wasn’t shaken by what happened in the Crystal Empire with Sombra. That hatred, anger, and loss burbled beneath the surface. This helped to quiet it. Or at least put a lid on it.
The journey to Princess Luna’s chambers was a silent one. There was little need for speech in the dark hours. And most of the functionaries had gone home to their families or quarters to prepare for the following day. They finally arrived to see another guard and a familiar blue Pegasus approaching from the other way. Grif raised an inquiring eyebrow.
“You, too?” he asked.
“Did she also call for Hammer Strike?” Pensword asked.
The guards shook their heads. “She asked for the two of you specifically.” They gestured toward the doors, then opened them.
A snoring figure lay sprawled over a table next to a spilled tankard and a massive stein. While her helmet and cloak obscured most of her body, the unique make of her armor made it all too easy to identify their owner. Princess Luna stood behind her, looking down on the mare with a gentle smile tinged with pity and remorse. The scent of alcohol, while not pungent, was still present.
“I see someone had one drink too many,” Grif noted as he eyed the sleeping Thestral.
“I may have encouraged her a little too much,” Luna admitted. “The Lieutenant Colonel has had a busy night.”
“The what?” Pensword balked.
“She’s been promoted, Pensword,” Luna said. “She deserves it for what she’s been through, and for what she yet has to face. She’s well suited for her future, and I intend to ensure she meets it well.” She ran a hoof through the mare’s mane and gave a more familiar smile. “For now, however, it’s the more immediate future I’m concerned about. I have already delayed my duties to enter the world of dreams, and there are many colts and fillies who will need my help and guidance tonight to face the morning. I called you to ask a favor.”
“You want us to carry her to her room,” Grif said.
“I wanted Pensword to, actually. You’re here for backup.”
Grif raised a skeptical brow. “Backup, eh?”
“Um, … is there a way that maybe we could wake her up first? It’d be easier if I could support her instead of trying to carry her the whole way. I don’t want her to ruin the cloak when she only just got it,” Pensword said.
“There is one way,” Luna admitted. “Flick the tuft of her left ear with your wing, and make sure to let your feathers brush against her inner ear as you do so. Just be careful to mind—”
Pensword let out a squawk of surprise as he suddenly found himself pinned to the floor with his legs splayed under the full weight of an extremely muscular mare and her full set of armor.
“—That….” Luna sighed. “I was trying to say mind her reflexes. A Thestral startled awake, even drunk or addled with sleep, is still a force to be reckoned with.”
Moonshade stared unseeingly at Pensword, took a few sniffs through her nostrils, then buried her muzzle against his neck as her legs squeezed tighter around his body, and her wings reached around him as far as they could go. She nickered gently, then eased as her breathing grew long and steady.
“Um, … a little help?” Pensword asked.
Grif looked at Princess Luna with a raised brow.
Princess Luna returned the gesture, though a hint of a smile curved her lips. “I’m afraid I can’t afford to delay any longer. As I said, my duties call me. I shall leave this dilemma in your extremely capable hands, Grif Grafson.” With that, she took wing and flew out her balcony doors into the night.
“Grif?” Pensword called plaintively. “Help?”
Grif looked long and hard at the hesitant Pony and the mare who was currently using him as a plushie. “Hmmm….”
“Grif!” Pensword called plaintively, albeit quietly. “There’s got to be something you can do here.”
Grif pondered Luna’s words. He considered her actions and the expression she had given him before her hasty departure. Finally, he considered the conversation he and Pensword had just had earlier that evening, and the confession he dragged out of the Pegasus. Then he smiled and promptly turned toward the doors.
“Grif?”
“You did say to consider her one of the group now. Is it such a bad thing to help a friend sleep well?”
“You can’t be serious!”
“No, though I am at least partially black,” Grif admitted as he reached for the door handles.
“Grif, don’t you dare!”
Grif’s own beak curved in a smirk. “Goodnight, Pensword,” he sang.
“Grif!”
Grif chuckled as he closed the doors behind him, looking at the guards on either side of the door. “The princess has lent the room to Commander Pensword and the new Lieutenant Colonel for the night. I assume they’ll be in some very intimate and sensitive discussions. They are not to be disturbed under any circumstances. Do I make myself clear?” He was very proud of himself for keeping his voice steady through the order.
The guards were equally blank-faced. “Of course.”
“Excellent.” And with that said, the Gryphon took his leave, his tail swishing behind him in satisfaction. The feline in him was very well pleased.
Back in the chambers, Pensword squirmed and groaned internally. “When I get my hands on him….” he growled. Then he sighed. There was no use at this point. He was alone, and it was unlikely that guards would enter Princess Luna’s chambers unless ordered or summoned. There was little choice but to get as comfortable as possible and sleep. “Why do I suddenly feel like I’m in the middle of a soap opera or sitcom?” He groaned again. “Guess I should brace myself to get beaten in the morning.” He grunted as Moonshade’s embrace tightened slightly, forcing the air out of him briefly. “Assuming I live that long….” Then he sighed once more, curved his head into a comfortable position, and slowly drifted toward sleep with Moonshade’s familiar scent dancing through his nostrils.
Hammer Strike took a deep breath as he stared at the letter in his hooves. Having returned to his room half an hour ago, he had planted himself at the provided desk and spent the time debating if it was really worth it to open the letter.
He knew, however, that he was only delaying the inevitable.
“Okay,” he exhaled. “Let’s see what was written for me.” He turned the letter over to reveal his own script addressing the designated reader.
‘You, obviously.’
“By me,” he finished wryly before opening the letter. True to his nature, it was blunt and to the point.
To start things off, yes, future you took the important records. Important bits of note, you’re far away from where I am, so don’t stress too much over it. We’ll do fine with everything. There are ups and downs, but that’s expected. Yes, we’re missing an ear tip now. Yes, we’ve got more scars to deal with. It’ll be fine.
For the moment, you’re just going to have to go about things as you usually do. While I could write more, The Doctor’s currently breathing down my neck as I write this, so I can’t put much more down. For now, you have the info you need. And if anyone asks, just go with the flow as usual.
~Signed, Your later self.
“Joy.” Hammer Strike sighed, rubbing his forehead. A knock at his door soon pulled his attention away from his musings, however. He wasn’t sure what new complications might be rising, but he hoped it wouldn’t be the beginnings of the downs just yet. “Who is it?” he asked.
“Um, … Lord Hammer Strike? It’s me, Rarity. May I come in?”
Hammer Strike stood quickly and opened the door for her. “You’re welcome to,” he replied.
“Thank you.” The mare entered and gave a grateful smile. “I won’t take up too much of your time. I know you have enough to deal with as it is. I just wanted to return this to you. Now that the dinner is over, it would be selfish in the extreme for me to try to keep it. It’s not like I’ll need to use it on anypony in the castle, after all, even if I knew how.” Her talk died off as she peered at the stallion’s face, even as she levitated the stiletto in its sheath and belt.. “Something is bothering you.” It wasn’t a question. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
“It’s… complicated.” He sighed before looking at the blade in her hold. “Is there something wrong with the stiletto?”
“No. But as I said before, the sword isn’t really mine. You lent it to me for the night.
“Keep it.” Hammer Strike shrugged. “To be honest, the design fits in perfectly for you, as it was made to.”
The aura around the blade disappeared as Rarity stared in shock. She barely caught it again before it clattered to the floor. “I’m sorry. You … made this just for me?”
Hammer Strike gave a soft chuckle. “I’m sure you’ve noticed, I typically carry weapons of a much heavier kind.”
“I just … didn’t expect something like this,” she admitted. “It’s … a very precious gift, and I don’t mean just from a monetary sense.”
“It’s always best to be prepared. Or as I usually put it, better safe than sorry.” Hammer Strike smiled softly.
“I’m not normally one to resort to violence, but a girl doesn’t last this long in the fashion field without knowing she needs to know how to defend herself from time to time.” She nodded her acknowledgement. Then she smirked and gave a curtsey. “Thank you, my lord,” she said cheekily.
“Oh, of course, my lady,” Hammer Strike replied with an almost theatrical bow in return. “And once again, thank you for assisting. Though things didn’t go quite as planned tonight, your help was still greatly appreciated.”
“I would do anything for a friend,” Rarity said. “Well, provided it’s within reason, of course.”
Hammer Strike gave a small chuckle in return. “Of course.” He nodded. “Was there anything else on your mind?”
“Not particularly,” she admitted. “Though, and I do hope you don’t take offense at this, darling, I’ve dealt with enough customers to recognize someone who’s troubled. Is … everything all right? If it has to do with the dinner, I’ll be happy to be a listening ear. That is, assuming I’m correct and you want to talk about it, of course.”
“It’s not the dinner, it’s…” Hammer Strike frowned as he thought over how he would explain things before sighing. “It would take a while to properly explain.”
Rarity smiled consolingly. “Well, I am supposed to be your intended. Doesn’t that include being a listening ear, even if it’s a long story?”
“I’ve got a lot bothering me.” Hammer Strike’s frown deepened. “Honestly, more so than I should be handling.”
“Are you trying to handle it by yourself?”
“When don’t I?” Hammer Strike gave a half hearted chuckle. “Learning that I have to play out my history almost backwards alongside Matthew and Taze at least means that part isn’t alone. So far, everything written about their history has me mentioned on the side, but not all of my history lists them around, so there’s those interesting times to look forward to.” He sighed once more and rubbed at the back of his neck. “With every new thing I learn, I’ve about given up on going home.”
“Do you still want to go home?”
“I don’t even know anymore. I’m stuck at an impasse, whether to return home and abandon all the people I have met, made friends with, and found joy with. Or stay here, leave behind the people I knew, my family, my lifelong friends….” He closed his eyes briefly as he settled his mind. When he opened them, a look of exhaustion fell over his face. “I don’t like these kinds of conversations, so I avoid them as best I can.”
“You may not like them, but it seems they are necessary,” Rarity pointed out. “I’ve seen what bottling those anxieties can do through Twilight. You’re different from her, but everyone has a breaking point. As for me, I can’t even begin to imagine what you’re experiencing, but … isn’t it better to focus on what you can control right now, rather than what may or may not come in the future? If there’s one thing I trust, it’s that we can find the answer that works for everyone, including you and your friends.” Rarity smiled gently. “It’s what we do. Even if we do need some help from time to time to get it right. We do it together as friends. Can’t you also find a way with yours?”
“It becomes difficult to focus on what’s in your grasp when your future comes to leave you a message.” Hammer Strike gestures to the letter on his desk.
“Does it promise that you’ll be with your friends?”
“It was basically me trying to alleviate my most immediate concerns, which while helpful, makes me wary of why I needed to hide my own records from myself.”
“He probably wants to make sure you do things your way. Following a set pattern can give you a lovely design, but it’s not the same as when you create something original yourself.”
“Probably was also to keep the info on how I lose my ear tip out of reach.” Hammer Strike frowned.
Rarity shook her head. “You have too much faith in yourself for that to be the reason. If time travel is involved, does it perhaps have something to do with the rules around it? Twilight mentioned that it can be very dangerous. There is only one spell she was able to use, and it only allowed a limited span to go back.”
“I mean, the letter did mention how I had The Doctor breathing down my neck. To clarify before you ask, that’s his name. He travels time quite often.”
“So he has experience with time?”
“More than anyone should.”
“And is he a friend?”
“Definitely.”
“Then trust that he knows what he’s talking about. At least this once. I believe a close friend of yours once said, ‘Those who attempt to change the future only speed its approach.’ Grif may be a bit blunt at times, and completely lacking in manners, but he can be very wise when he chooses to be.”
“That sounds about right for him,” Hammer Strike chuckled softly.
“... Not to go against the word you gave yourself, but … if you’re really that interested to find out what happened to you, perhaps you can find it in a history book or other record. It’s not every day that a Pony from legend gets wounded like that. It would have to have been recorded somewhere, wouldn’t it? Especially if it happened in battle.”
“I suppose it’s quite likely, yeah.” He frowned in thought. “Or maybe I’ll just trust myself like you said. I don’t know.”
“I suppose we’ll just have to find out then.” This time, her smile was genuine, and it was radiant as the gemstones she used for her dresses. “So, what else did you need to talk about? Not to blow my own horn, but it sounds as if I’m on a roll, as the saying goes.”
Hammer Strike smiled in return. “Perhaps we save those for another night. I’d rather not talk your ear off until the morning.”
Rarity toyed with the ring on her necklace with one hoof. “I have time. And it is the least I can do after the gift you gave me tonight. Watching Prince Blueblood trying to save his reputation in your eyes was as entertaining as it was cathartic.”
“Easiest thing I could do tonight,” Hammer Strike chuckled. “Well, perhaps we could keep the conversation up for a bit longer….”
Extended Holiday Chapter 30: The Reason We Don’t Visit
Sunlight beamed through the filmy curtains as the morning’s first rays pierced the comforting darkness of sleep and oblivion. For many, this is a normal, if somewhat unpleasant experience. For Lieutenant Colonel Moonshade of the Lunar Guard, it was agony incarnate. Her head throbbed as she opened bleary eyes to behold a room that slowly swam back into focus. She could still smell the alcohol on her armor, and the sight of the table where she’d drunk herself into insensibility left her wincing all the more. How could she allow herself to lose her composure like that in front of her chieftess? Even if Luna had insisted on it, it was still embarrassing and unbecoming of a ranking officer.
Embarrassment flushed her cheeks as she recalled their discussion not as superior and servant, but as mares. Why did she have to open her big mouth about her feelings for Pensword?
…
PENSWORD!
She whipped her head toward the chamber doors and winced as her brain screamed in outrage and pain. Sudden movements were definitely not a good idea when dealing with a hangover from alcohol personally brewed by the princess. But she had to get to Pensword and the others. She had to report in. They would worry if she wasn’t at her post.
By the moon, why did she have to be so careless?
She scrabbled to her hooves in an attempt to extricate herself from the tangle she could only assume was her cloak. She stopped, however, when that mass grunted at her efforts. A masculine grunt. A familiar grunt. Moonshade’s heart hammered in her chest, sending blow after blow to her brain as she turned her gaze ever so slowly to behold the still-sleeping figure that lay below her. Her face turned a deep red that bordered on purple as the stallion’s familiar scent finally registered in her nostrils. There, all akimbo in his own armor, was Pensword.
Despite the pressure from her hooves, the stallion still hadn’t woken. Moonshade did her best to extricate herself without disturbing the Pegasus, but even as she rose to all fours, the consequences of her unconscious actions caught up with her. Her legs wobbled as stinging needles and numbness struck intermittently. Sleeping on top of the stallion had cut off much of her circulation, leaving her with the conclusion she must have inevitably held him like a child would a stuffed animal. If that weren’t bad enough, she collapsed directly on top of his barrel, and her lips collided with his.
Moonshade quickly pulled her face away, even as she could swear she felt steam flying out her ears. Pensword groaned again and blinked as he came slowly back into consciousness. The first words to come out of his mouth … were not expected.
“Don’t hit me!” Pensword screamed as he brought his hooves to his face in an attempt to ward off a blow that would never come.
The words at once stunned and frightened Moonshade. Had she attacked him last night? Was that why he was so afraid? Did she hurt him? “Pensword, I … are you all right? Did I hurt you?” Put on the mask. Be a professional. She had to remain professional.
Pensword blinked in surprise, then lowered his hooves. “No, … not really.” His face was flushed, too as his nostrils took in her scent. “Just … kind of fell on me when I tried to wake you up. … More like pounced, if I’m being honest.”
“I … I’m sorry. I wouldn’t normally do that.”
“You were asleep. It was a reflex, right?” Pensword asked.
“We’re … trained to incapacitate potential intruders, even in our sleep.”
“I’m sure there’s an interesting story behind that particular training regimen, but first, do you think you could maybe get off of me? I think my legs and wings are asleep….”
Moonshade didn’t bother trying to extract her legs this time. A few swift beats of her wings, and she was free of him. The added exertion also helped to distance her from Pensword’s scent. Her head still throbbed, but at least she could focus more and think more clearly. “Do you need to go to the infirmary?” she asked, even as the stallion began to stretch.
“I dont—” There was a loud pop, followed by a deep groan from the Pegasus. “—Think so,” he finished. “It was difficult falling asleep, but, well, I didn’t want to wake you, and Grif and Princess Luna sort of left us like that….”
Moonshade’s eyes narrowed as she settled back onto the floor again. “Is that so?”
While Pensword did feel the instinctive desire for revenge, he didn’t want to have the mare’s ire turned on a friend and ally. “In his defense, we didn’t know what you might do if we tried to move you again.”
“It seems there will need to be a discussion on etiquette and protocols when something like this happens,” she said coolly as she lowered herself back to the floor. “Are you sure you don’t need medical attention?”
Pensword nodded. “I’ll be fine,” he assured her.
Moonshade nodded. “Then I suppose all that’s left is to move forward with the day’s agenda. Was there anything in particular you were hoping to accomplish?”
“I wanted to see some of Pensword’s past, not just read about it. Since the history book mentioned being adopted into the Hurricane Family, do you think they would mind if we were to visit?”
“That’s not a bad idea,” Moonshade agreed. “They’ll be grateful to see you. Though it would be best if we had a letter of introduction or some other means to verify your identity. House Hurricane has great respect for Commander Pensword, and they don’t appreciate those who seek to use that name falsely.”
Pensword nodded. “I wouldn’t like it either.”
“We can ask Princess Celestia, Lord Hammer Strike, or wait for Princess Luna. Any of the three would be enough to assure your entry. They’ve been trying to see you ever since your return from the Crystal Empire was confirmed by the princesses. They decided it would be better to spare you the difficulty and allow you time to recuperate after the battle with Sombra.”
“Well, I’m recuperated now. And I definitely need to know all I can about that time.”
Moonshade nodded. “Then who shall we ask?”
Pensword chuckled. “Well, we can ask whoever we run into first if we grab some breakfast. And then maybe we can visit some museums or historical sites here in the city, too.”
“You really do love history, don’t you?”
“More than you can even begin to imagine, Moonshade.” He chuckled again. “By the way, in case we need to decide directly, you wouldn’t happen to have a three-sided coin handy, would you?”
Grif smiled as the taste of sausage and egg mingled with the pillowy texture of a freshly baked English Muffin. Once again, the culinary achievements of Equestria astounded his taste buds. And once again, he found that even in experimentation, the original paled in comparison to what Ponies could craft. He took the final bite of his third serving as he strolled through the halls of the palace. Now that he had finished his daily exercise at the training grounds and properly fed himself, it was time to see what else was available to do on a day that essentially equated to a day off.
As a matter of habit, he drifted toward the hall of history and the many stained glass memorials built to immortalize those critical moments in Equestrian history. After all, those who did not learn from history were doomed to repeat it, or at the very least face challenges similar enough to be nigh-identical. As he stared into the shards, he couldn’t help but admire the way in which the molten glass had been forged. With his unique avian vision, he had the opportunity to look beyond the base into the depths of the structure itself, where a veritable kaleidoscope of particles awaited him. Tiny air bubbles and an intricate crystalline weave bent light and shaped it along an infinite number of pathways that spidered like snowflakes. In every sense of the word, it was truly a fascinating sight. So engrossed was he that he didn’t even notice the clopping of golden horseshoes and the clack of talon on stone that heralded the arrival of his host and her guests.
The Gryphons were four in number, and different from those Grif had encountered previously. Unlike the other rougher warriors and mercenaries that could be found in the capitol, these wore silken robes that draped to barely avoid touching the ground. Wing holes had been carefully sewn and embroidered to allow them to fly should the need arise. And their garments, while loose, bulged gently at certain points along their bodies, hinting at the weapons that lay hidden on their persons beneath. Honors, medals, and other forms of approbation and recognition adorned their breasts, along with the badges of their office that marked them as delegates and ambassadors of the Gryphon empire.
“A Gryphon in the royal palace. Now that is unusual for you, Princess Celestia. Have you finally had a change of heart about your subjects’ prejudices regarding employment of other species? Or is this another of your charity cases for those cowards that abandoned their homeland?”
Grif had dealt with many an insult before with a cool head, but for some reason, that one word, coward, did more to raise his ire than any other insult he had received in Equestria. He turned and took in their finery and badges, even as they stared at him with equal intensity, a group of predators eying another predator in the ageless battle to establish the pecking order.
“What’s your name, fledgeling? From what clan do you hail?” another of the Gryphons asked. It may as well have been as though Celestia weren’t there anymore. Not only had they gone out of their way to insult Grif’s character, they had even dismissed their hostess in her own home.
In short, they were jerks that needed to be brought down a peg or two. And Grif would be only too glad to help in that regard. He looked deliberately at Celestia, offered a slow wink, then turned his attention back to the four delegates.
Next, he puffed up his chest and fixed them with the most intent glare he could muster. The offense at their words from earlier helped to fuel the fire behind his blue eyes as they flashed in defiance. “Is this the finest Gryphonia has to offer? I didn't think it possible for our empire to fall any lower, and yet here you stand, foregoing honor and dignity for the sake of your own puffed up self-importance. This is Canterlot Castle, the home of your hosting monarch, and you dare to trample over her and deride her choices and that of Equestria’s governing body. You are too bold. Or perhaps too foolish. Or perhaps both.”
Grif took great satisfaction at the spluttering response and mingled expressions of shock and mortal offense. He turned his focus on the one who had demanded his name. “You, at least, have a somewhat better sense of decorum than your fellows, though that seems to be all you hold to differentiate you from them. I am what you would call clanless, but I am by no means nameless, nor have I committed any misdeed or dishonor to require being rejected from a clan. I made my own way and found my own home, despite what many of your kind have done to prevent me and others like me from doing so. I made you curse yourselves then for your ignorance and your arrogance. I will do so again now. Let my name ring in your ears and haunt your dreams. I am Grif, son of Graf. I am the quartermaster. And I am the death of any that would dare to harm my lord or his charges.”
The first to regain his composure looked at Celestia, and his voice was quiet as he glared at the princess. “Is this another one of your jokes, Celestia? If so, it is far from funny. You know full well how our people feel about that chapter of history. To mock us like this is worse than distasteful. It’s downright despicable. Did you have your sister cast an illusion on this imposter for your benefit? This is a far cry from the peace that you keep harping about wanting to maintain.”
“This is no joke, friend,” Grif said just as calmly as he drew one of his swords from its sheath and leveled it at the offending speaker. “And you will show respect for both princesses, or I will show you just how I achieved the titles your sires and grandsires gave me.”
“Bluster and nothing more. If you insist on this farce, then I’ll challenge you to a duel to prove your lies.” The most decorated puffed his chest as he reached beneath his robes to claim his weapon.
Grif didn’t give him the chance. With two deft slashes, the delegate was relieved of his ribbons, his medals, and his uniform. “And what makes you think I would give you the honor after all you’ve done?”
“If you’re deluded enough to claim who you are, then you should know better than anyone that Grif Grafson’s crimes far outweigh any wrongdoing we may or may not have committed in our own lives. There’s a reason he’s called Egg Smasher.” The others behind him held their ground. They didn’t reach for their own weapons, but neither did they seek to run away. Instead, they remained behind their leader to back him, as a pride should. “Not even your famous Star Swirl had the power to rip someone from time, Celestia. Tell this cub to leave us and apologize to my fellow delegates and I may let him off easy.”
This time, it was the harness that went, causing the Gryphon’s twin daggers to fall to the floor with a terrible clatter. “I believe I told you before that disrespecting the princess won’t be tolerated,” Grif returned. “Rumors of my demise were greatly exaggerated.” His face remained stony, even as the human in him crowed in delight. In over a thousand years, he had never dreamed of being able to use this trope, and now the chance had nearly walked into him. “Being frozen within stone inside a kingdom banished from time does wonders for one's youth.”
“I trust,” the delegate returned with an icy voice, “that you know the penalty for assaulting a diplomatic force, let alone killing one without cause, whelp.”
“Oh, I’m plenty aware, and I have more than enough cause.” Grif growled as the next words emerged. “I am no Egg Smasher. I am loyal to my lord, and I doubt that all the honor in your body, all the accolades you have won, would amount to so much as a thimble on my talon compared to what I have faced.” He drew closer until he was beak to beak with his adversary. “You have insulted me. Be grateful that I don’t slit your throat here and now. I assure you, were it not for the effort it would take to clean your filthy corpse off these stones, I would.” He drew his second blade slowly so it could hiss its deadly warning to his target and the three behind it.
“Enough, the both of you!” Celestia snapped. “Valerius, this is Grif Grafson. I can assure you that he is the genuine article. You are correct when you say Star Swirl the Bearded didn’t have sufficient power to perform such a spell. However, King Sombra did. His curse transported the entire Crystal Empire through time to our present day, along with Grif Grafson, Hammer Strike, and commander Pensword. As I’m certain you are aware, dark magic can be very powerful when employed by the proper Pony. Or have you already forgotten the brief demonstration I gave to you when you first asked me about its uses and capabilities?”
Varlerius glared at the princess, then back at Grif, then the princess again. His eyes were astute and intent as they bored into the Princess’ gaze. Celestia didn’t so much as flinch. When they returned to Grif’s gaze, he found not the bluster of a fledgling playing a role, but rather the grim expression of one who had seen battle, lost companions, and done things that would haunt lesser beings to ensure his survival and the future he wished to create.
Sweat suddenly beaded the delegate’s brow. This was not the playful fool who bandied words so casually before. This was someone else, something else. And Valerius could feel his hackles beginning to rise against his will in alarm. Behind him, he could hear the subtle wafting of fabric, the clank of chain and the song of steel sliding free. “Stop,” he snapped. The other delegates froze, their weapons hanging in the air to await the order of their superior to strike. “You are in the princess’ palace and her personal presence. Do not dishonor your emperor and kings by striking brashly, or I will kill you myself.” He crouched to reclaim his weapons and trinkets, never breaking contact with Grif’s wrathful gaze as peered up the length of the sword. When the deed was done, the remnants of the robe that he used as a pouch bulged awkwardly as he held it to his chest. “If you are who you say you are, then you will understand my desire to quit your presence, not out of fear, but of another emotion we both know well.”
Grif didn’t sheathe his blades. “Then leave, while I am still feeling kind. But if you dare to slander me or the princesses again in my presence, you can rest assured that no power in this world will be enough to stop me from claiming your life.” He looked at the other three delegates meaningfully. “Be they divine or mortal.”
“You’ve not heard the last of this, Grif Grafson,” Valerius warned as he turned with his entourage. “Accounts will be settled in due time.”
“Make sure you can pay the dues, then,” Grif returned. “I’d hate for you to go into the embrace of the Winds without a clear conscience.”
The Gryphons strutted away with what tatters remained of their dignity, quite literally in Valerius’ case. Grif smiled as they rounded a corner, and he turned to face Celestia as he sheathed his sword once more. A few moments later, the booming of the hall’s doors slamming shut reverberated through the space.
“You think I overdid it?” Grif asked.
Celestia smiled and shook her head. “Maybe a little. But Gryphons are stubborn creatures, as I’m sure you know only too well. Sometimes, they need someone to remind them that they don’t own the world.” Then she frowned. “A word of advice, Grif. Take it in the nature of a friendly warning, and not a threat, please. As long as you don’t meddle too much with official business, you can have your fun. But you need to be careful. If they fear you enough, and believe me, the empire has good reason to fear as well as hate you, you and your friends could very well be hunted. It is not unheard of for certain nobles in the empire to hire assassins.”
“Assassins, you say.” Grif stroked his beak, half intrigued and half in concern. They had dealt with many attempts to discover their base, including stealth troops after Sombra had enough time to corrupt and prepare them. But this was not on that level. He would be dealing with a fully independent being with years of experience and training. That could be trouble. “Are they any good?”
Celestia shrugged. “I really don’t know. Equestria hasn’t been subject to their attacks since the war ended. You’ll have to talk with either the delegates from Zebrica or the Minotaur Confederation.”
“So they sound like a mild annoyance at worst, a medium annoyance at best,” Grif lied.
“... You have an interesting way of saying things.” Celestia shook her head. “Don’t worry. I think I can hold off any demands for an official meeting until after you move to the Everfree. After that, I may have to summon you three for a hearing, but you can bet your feathers that I’d rather die before I let any of you get shipped back to Gryphonia. You three are heroes, both in the Crystal Empire and in Equestria.”
“With all due respect, Princess, legally I’m in a gray area as it is.” Grif shrugged. “Under the Equestrian Warfare Act, a person must be tried as a citizen of the country they were part of when the acts happened. The Northern Isles weren’t a part of Equestria yet, having only just seceded from Gryphonia fully. It existed as a colony and state all its own. With its joining to Equestria, that colony and its government ceased to be. I essentially did everything under the law code of a nonexistent country. My papers for Equestrian citizenship still need to be filed, true, but I am not a citizen of Gryphonia.”
Celestia smiled. “Then you have the option of picking which land you wish to be tried under.”
“I will stay with Equestria, of course.” He smiled. “Though the best you could do was wag your finger and tell me what a bad eggchick I’ve been.” He laughed.
“Wag my finger, you say? Is that a phrase you picked up from the humans?” she asked with a grin. “Still, if nothing else, if this does go to trial, it might do well for the healing of Gryphon honor and pride to at least symbolically exile you and deem you guilty.”
“And there will be little love lost. I will not, that is to say, I did not side with Equestria out of loyalty or anger. My allegiance is first to my own heart, second to Hammer Strike’s needs. Gryphons were abusing their power. They were eating sapient creatures. And for me, that is something I cannot forgive.”
“A noble attribute,” Celestia noted. “And since you have chosen Equestria, at least House Galaxia will be able to provide you with the best legal teams.” She turned and looked to the now silent hallways. “I can promise one thing with a surety. As sure as I will raise the sun tomorrow, by next New Year’s they will have you on trial. Though there is little they can say when their own people don’t wish to acknowledge that they were eating my little Ponies for food.” She sighed wearily. “We claimed that debt a long time ago, but it was not easily won. Nor do I think it will be again should it come to that.”
“I thank you, Princess Celestia. If it makes you feel any better, I’m sure those cowards know better than to make that attempt after what happened last time. It’s not wise to go against someone who can control celestial bodies. As for our more recent woes, I hope the problems with the Changelings will go much smoother than it did with my people. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I am going to take a flight and think on everything I just witnessed and the past. I have a lot of history to mull over.” Without waiting for a response, the Gryphon made his way to the door.
Princess Celestia smiled smugly before she turned to a mirror. She carefully scanned the halls. Nopony else was watching. Sighing with relief, she walked right into the surface and chuckled as she turned left into the hidden passageway. She hated to wake Lulu so early, but as the older sister, it was her duty to gloat. And she had won the bet on how the delegates would react, after all. Now, … how to wake her? A mischievous glint shone in her eye as she put her brilliantly devious mind to work.
Exploration is an excellent way to alleviate boredom. And after the “excitement” at Blueblood Manor, Hammer Strike was looking for something a bit more … palatable. Rarity had proven more than a passing listener, but even she had to give in to the ravages of sleep eventually. As a natural insomniac, he was not so easily bound by such limits. And so it was that he took advantage of the quiet hours to plunge the depths of the castle in search of something that might prove interesting. Perhaps, if he was lucky, he might find some piece of the past that was to be his inevitable future. He had no particular desire to find such things after the warning he received from his letter, but he would not object to any helpful clue to bring about that positive ending his future self had written about. That, and if this castle was anything like the old castle his alter ego had witnessed on TV, then it would be filled with a large number of hidden passages and devices optimized for maximum entertainment and diversion. That … would not be such a bad thing to have at the moment.
Thus far, he had accidentally broken off a candelabra from its mounting, ripped a suspiciously empty torch sconce out of its moorings in the stone, and accidentally toppled some old unoccupied shelves. The last ones, he was at least able to right without difficulty. As for the others, well … he was fortunate enough to be wandering in an area less occupied than the other corridors.
Though the more he thought about it, the more he wondered … why was this part of the castle so quiet, so derelict, so … abandoned? Layers of dust had accumulated over the floor and walls, and a curious sensation seemed to carry through the air. Not quite electric, and not quite a tingling, but something … different. There was age here. History seemed to own these halls. But why would Celestia and Luna leave this section of the castle unguarded? It made no sense, particularly after the Changeling attack.
He turned into another corridor, his mind deep in thought as he walked without conscious thought or direction, passing through a solid wall without so much as looking up to notice it. His ears didn’t pick up anything in front of him, after all.
It took him a moment to recognize the sudden change in acoustics. The steady clop of his hooves echoed and reverberated back and forth in a game of call and response that became almost calamitous before fading into the silence again. He looked up. And as he did so, the ceiling came alight with glowing stones in striking silver and gold that spread their light over the space. On one half, a radiant sun blazed, surrounded by three familiar gemstones. On the right, the silvery moon in all its calm and reservation pulsed fully at its peak. Three more gemstones circled it, each of the six casting their own colored light around them to fill up the space. Above them still, a single curved scythe blade sat astride the two forces, its hilt grasped by unknown hooves as it at once seemed to radiate and absorb the power of the two forces on either side.
Based on the appearance of the chamber, it had been used more recently. The signs of ages past were less pronounced, though dust and cobwebs could still be seen if Hammer Strike looked for them. This was not the same as the stained glass windows leading to Celstia’s throne. The room was more spacious, for one. Trinkets, tools, and other artifacts stood on pedestals in crystal cases. The plaques beneath them had aged, but were still legible if one were willing to put in the effort to clean them. Spears, wands, books, staves, and other odds and ends all resided here, each bearing the names of Ponies from the past. A large zweihander drew his gaze. Its sheath was worn from years of use, but well preserved. The sword itself was a marvelous piece. And much to Hammer Strike’s shock, the techniques employed were akin to his own. The blade was notched and worn in places, signs of effective use in battle. For whatever reason, a full restoration had never been performed on the weapon. And yet, despite never seeing it before, it felt strangely familiar to the touch. Had Ponies once mastered his techniques in the distant past and then forgotten them with the passage of time?
A swipe over the plaque revealed the name and a touching dedication:
The sword of Starlight Bulwark, First Spellsword of Equestria:
An honorable warrior, true friend, and beloved brother.
“Spellsword,” Hammer Strike repeated softly. “Huh, I haven’t heard of them in Equestria at all.” He sheathed the blade respectfully and placed it back where it belonged. “Remarkable.”
The room was a veritable collage of history ranging from the earlier days of the kingdom to periods and cultures the stallion could only guess at. And though the trinkets, weapons, and statues that sat on display were of great interest, the greater and more demanding works laid behind them along walls that seemed infinite as the horizon. Some were small, others as broad as a cottage wall. Shades, hughes, and textures leapt at the eye as seascapes, starry skies, and vast cities sprawled before him. He had looked for diversion.
He had found it.
His hooves continued to clop as he passed from one frame to another with diminishing interest. The styles and technique were admirable, but one can only admire so much art before it starts to become redundant. That was, until he came upon one particular canvas. He wasn’t sure what caught his eye first, whether it was the leather armor, the flicker of feathers, or the curious swimming sensation that danced in front of his eyes when he beheld the two fur cloaks that bedecked a pair of Ponies, each portraying a different patch of the same starry sky. They looked up at a familiar Alicorn with gratitude and respect, even as their love for one another beamed in their eyes. As Hammer Strike peered at the stallion’s flank, he could just make out the edge of a quill and a hint of an inkwell. Both images were well known to him.
He bent his neck to peer at the placard, and soon confirmed his suspicions. “The Happy Lovers: An Artist’s Rendering of the Marriage of Pensword and Lunar Fang. It’s about time I got a look at you,” he murmured as he peered into the eyes of the fierce-looking bride. His ear twitched ever so slightly, and he sighed, not even bothering to turn around. “Hello, Luna.”
The mare emerged from one of the shadows cast under the light from the ceiling. “How did you know I was here?” she asked suspiciously.
“There’s no other noise in this room. I can hear the slightest shift,” Hammer Strike replied, glancing over to Luna briefly.
“I see you’ve taken an interest in this painting. The artist was ahead of her time in more ways than one.” She smiled forlornly, then shook her head to clear it. “I trust that you recognize the subjects.”
“Moonshade and Pensword, though it took a moment to recognize Pensword, given the slight changes in his appearance,” Hammer Strike replied.
Luna nodded. “I am uncertain how it will come about. I could potentially alter him myself if he asks it, but it will have to be his choice. And even if I did, as I told Moonshade before, I cannot change his true nature, so there is no way that I would be able to make him a full Thestral on my own, even if I was inclined to do so. Only time and experience can do that for him if he should choose that path.”
“Then I suppose we’ll see how things move forward from here on.” Hammer Strike gave a small grin. “So, it really is her?”
“Why should I hide it from you? You, of all people, should understand the importance of maintaining the integrity of time, both the past and the future. Many are not trustworthy. But you are not one of the many.”
“Given how well you seem to know me at times, through obvious reasons, I suppose that’s a fair enough assessment.”
Luna smiled. “It’s a curious sensation, to be the one to say this after hearing the same from you so often. And yet, it is oddly appropriate.” She bared her teeth in a grin. “Spoilers.”
“Ah yes, the Doctor treatment.” Hammer Strike chuckled briefly.
Luna raised a brow. “You’ve already met this soon?”
“Yeah, he seemed to have mistaken me for a future iteration of myself. Was surprised to learn that it was my first meeting with him.”
“A word of friendly advice. He is … more flexible with you than other Ponies. Do not push that to your advantage, but should the need arise, make use of it.”
“I don’t plan on casually using him for … anything, really. If I have need to change my position in time, then I’ll contemplate asking him.” He sighed. “Honestly, this concept of meeting individuals who have already known me for a long time is quite strange, and I find myself just trying to go with the flow. I swear, at times, I feel like I’m talking to a part of my family who’s known me since I was born.”
Luna smiled, though it was tinged with a terrible sadness as she looked at the painting once more. “I know that feeling myself. Lunar Fang was intensely loyal to me for reasons I couldn’t yet begin to fathom. On my first encounter with her, she saved my life. I was still ignorant and hotheaded in many ways, a consequence of my unique breeding, but she stood by me through everything to ensure that I would become the leader she and the rest of my children of the night would need. In a life as long as mine, that is only one of many such encounters. As you know, The Doctor has a way of making life very … interesting for those who have contact with him, and Time has a way of playing certain games, usually at the insistence of others, and to their detriment.”
“As I always love saying, ‘nothing can be simple.’” Hammer Strike sighed. “At the very least, I know some of the outcomes to come, and can prepare myself mentally for them.”
“A … small request, if I may be so bold as to ask, Hammer Strike,” Luna said.
Hammer Strike hummed questioningly.
“Grif has been looking for someone to confide in for a long time after drawing his conclusion regarding the link between Lunar Fang and Pensword. He is a very intelligent and intuitive individual, but that does sometimes work to his detriment without a proper outlet. Might I ask you to be that outlet for him in this case?”
“That’s simple enough.” Hammer Strike nodded.
Luna smiled. “Very well then. In that case, did you have any other questions regarding this gallery? It will be my pleasure to give you the grand tour.”
“I’d enjoy hearing more about this gallery. Got any particular pieces you find highly interesting?”
“That depends on the type of interesting you’re talking about.” Mirth and mischief danced behind the princess’ eyes. “Do you want history, smithing technique, battle, or something else?”
Taze had seen Canterlot before. He had toured through the castle and been whisked through the common quarters, shown the hospitality of the Gryphon quarters, and basked in the masterpieces of art that were Donut Joe’s creations. But Taze was not here. Taze was an alien, a being never before seen in Equestria, an entity that identified itself as a human. Grif, on the other hand, was a natural born Gryphon, raised in a land that was loyal to no ruler and hard as any wilderness could be. As a hero, he was afforded certain rights and privileges that others of his species often were not, including the right to travel among the noble quarters without being questioned or harassed by guards and lower functionaries. He was the left hand of Hammer Strike, and nobles knew better than to risk his ire.
However, much like any city with grand buildings, it lost its apparent luster the more he saw and experienced it. The ancient homes of the oldest houses sprawled out like a cancer, their walls and roofs and windows a testament to their age as each addition slowly pulled backward in time to the original structure. The newer noble houses were smaller and more compact, focusing on functionality, rather than opulence. If there was a need for more room, the additions were made tastefully to blend as closely as possible with the original design, rather than to match some new style or fad. Naturally, not all of the old structures followed this standard, but to the Gryphon’s keen eyes, it was all too apparent that the majority of the upper upper class did. “What a waste,” Grif sighed as he shook his head.
The warrior had just passed by the great wrought iron gate that walled off the Cookie estate when he bumped into a pair of familiar figures. Pensword and Moonshade were both walking side by side. Each wore their ceremonial armor, and Moonshade’s new mantle draped on either side as the two trotted along before Pensword noticed his friend and smiled.
Grif waved in return and greeted both. “Hey, guys. What’s up?”
“We’re taking a visit to House Hurricane,” Pensword said. “I thought I should get to know them before whatever happens.”
“Not a bad idea,” Grif conceded. “They probably have stories and records that aren’t available to the public. And I’m guessing Moonshade’s with you because…?”
“Because two certain individuals left us alone while I was drunk, and they ran away before we could have a proper chat with them.” Moonshade smiled sweetly, but her tone sent a chill down Grif’s spine. “I’m looking forward to it, Grif.”
“Well,” Grif said with a chuckle, “you two were just too cute to break up. And I wasn’t in the mood for being added to the pile or accidentally hurting you when I tried defending myself.” He peered closely at a bulging saddlebag on Pensword’s side. “Doing some shopping beforehand?”
“Souvenir shopping.” Pensword shrugged and pulled out a purple crystal cluster grown from a geode. “I wanted to see a museum or two before we visited the Hurricanes, and one of the exhibits focused on the old mines beneath the castle and in the mountain.”
“You always were a sucker for history.”
“Of course. History is very important to me and my family, as you well know,” Pensword shot back teasingly. “Now what have you been up to? I didn’t catch you at breakfast due to reasons Moonshade already listed.”
Grif shrugged. “Oh, you know, just taking a walk, contemplating possible trial for war crimes I haven’t actually committed yet, and enjoying the fresh air. Oh, and flying.”
“Sounds like you had a run-in with the delegates from Gryphonia,” Moonshade said. Then she sighed. “I suppose it was only a matter of time.”
“It usually is in Equestria. Though in all technicality, Celestia can only allow them a symbolic banishment from a country that doesn’t exist anymore,” Grif noted. “So really, it’s just going to be a long boring day of speeches and shouting before I get to go home and keep living my life.”
“Will it include any of your rousing or inspiring ones to break up the monotony?” Pensword smiled playfully.
Grif chuckled. “We’ll see. For now, I think we can just focus on enjoying ourselves. Leave the past to the past and the future to the future. What matters for us is the present.”
“Well, it seems our present includes another unexpected encounter.” Moonshade gestured with a wing. There, walking down the street, a familiar Pony clopped toward them. A gleaming breastplate was strapped over his usual blue and gold coat, along with a few minor additions.
Grif whistled his appreciation as Hammer Strike approached. “That is definitely some nice armor,” he noted.
“It’s one of the better pieces I’ve made.” Hammer Strike nodded. “In any case, I see you’re all out and about?”
“Yup. Pensword’s getting ready to meet some big shots, I just came back from threatening some big shots.” Grif shrugged. “You know, the usual. That, and getting ready for a war trial that’s basically symbolic and will have no real weight at this point. Oh, yeah, you guys’ll probably have to face one, too.”
“Sounds about right.” He gave a brief chuckle. “You’ll probably have to remind me of that later, however.”
“Don’t we always?” Grif smirked.
“What I don’t understand is why a trial is even necessary for us,” Pensword said. “It was a war started by the Gryphons against Equestria. And we beat them fair and square. Not to mention it happened over a thousand years ago. What would be the point?”
Moonshade shrugged. “Gryphons are sore losers.”
“They also like to cheat if they think they can get away with it and it’ll give them an advantage,” Grif pointed out. “At least the less honorable ones do,” he amended. “If it gets them in the history books, they don’t really care, since they think they’ll be the ones to do the writing.”
“Isn’t that arrogant?”
“Part cat, part bird of prey, remember?” Grif pointed out. “Ego is literally part of our actual natures.”
“It certainly feels that way at times.” Hammer Strike chuckled briefly.
“Was that supposed to be a dig at me from before we met up for this adventure?” Grif asked playfully.
A hint of a smile pulled at Hammer Strike’s lips. “I would never do such a thing.”
“Guys, he’s smiling. That’s a bad sign. We should probably get him to bed before he gets delusional,” Grif shot back with a smirk. Then he sighed, and his expression grew serious. “Okay, I have three questions for you. First, did you get to visit Fancy Pants yet? Second, did you take that trip to the armory that you planned to check up on armor from the Third Gryphon War era? And third, and most important of all,” he pointed at Hammer Strike’s ear as the color in his eyes darkened and his voice lowered into a terrible growl. The tip of the Earth Pony’s ear had been neatly severed. “Who did that to you?”
Hammer Strike gave a soft, short chuckle as Moonshade and Pensword finally noticed the injury themselves. “Took you long enough.”
“So, you visited the archives to find out more about what you would face, only to discover your future self had come to remove the things that you were hoping to find?” Princess Luna asked as the pair continued to pass through the gallery.
“That about sums it up, yeah,” Hammer Strike confirmed.
“It would seem that there are some things that, in order to succeed in the past, you should not know then. Or so one would assume. I admit I may have an inkling or two in mind, but if they are what I think they are, it makes sense why you shouldn’t be aware of them.”
“That’s … fair enough. Still a strange concept, I’d like to repeat.”
“You’ve met The Doctor, and you find the concept of preventing things you’ve already done from being changed a strange concept? I believe it is called a paradox, is it not?”
“The concept of me being wrapped in all of this is a strange concept,” Hammer Strike clarified. “Magic and time travel didn’t exactly exist in non-fiction where I come from. And being an average civilian meant I didn’t exactly have an exciting life.”
“That is fair,” Luna admitted. “There are many who yearn for such a life, but find themselves wrenched away from it against their will, whether by fate, chance, or the cruel machinations of others. The world is a harsh place. And though we pray to them, the gods are not always so kind. But I’ve a feeling you already knew that to an extent. And if our previous conversations are anything to go by, this strangeness is something you have or are currently in the process of adapting to. If there is anything I can do to aid you, however, you need only ask. I will do it if it is within my power.”
“I don’t plan on asking for favors.” Hammer Strike gave a brief chuckle. “I’m sure things will work out in the end, one way or another.”
“I believe you speak truth,” Luna agreed. “But that does not give us room to be complacent. If there is any way in which I can help to prepare you that does not go against the actions of your future self, I will gladly do it.” Then she frowned. “Though I would like to ask you a question, if I may.”
Hammer Strike hummed questioningly.
“This gallery is not only extremely remote by design, but is also heavily warded, and yet you seem to have walked through them all, blissfully unaware. I would like to ask you how this is so. If there is a fault in our security measures, it must be tended to as soon as possible. This place not only holds valuable treasures, but precious keepsakes and reminders that we would not see defiled.”
“I … just wandered.” He shrugged in response. “I wish I could say more, but that’s all I did.”
Luna frowned. “That is worrying. Though the fact that my own warning signals activated at least makes sure that the final lines of defense can be implemented effectively. It would seem that there is something unique about you to allow you passage here. If you are willing, I would like to observe as you depart from the gallery so that I may determine the cause.”
Hammer Strike shrugged. “Sure. I’ve got nothing else to do until my next meeting.”
Luna nodded. “You have my thanks. In the meantime, if there is nothing else you would like to see in the gallery, I would be happy to guide you wherever else you may want to go.”
“Got any recommendations?”
“That would depend on your tastes.” Luna frowned and rubbed her chin. “Though if you wish to acquaint yourself with armor designs, both old and new, the armory would not be a bad choice.”
“That would be useful.” Hammer Strike hummed in thought.
“We will, of course, honor your wishes if you wish to avoid ‘spoilers’ of things yet to come, and take the necessary precautions.”
“Some of the stuff I’ve made survived this long?”
“Are you really that surprised with how well one of your pieces sell on the market?”
“A little. Honestly, I find myself wondering how I’ve made it as far as I have, given I wasn’t even a smith where I come from. I just know most of the techniques because of my Uncle.”
“Those techniques are far ahead of the skills of many master craftsmen. If you truly are a novice, one shudders to think what a master can do in your world.”
“Quite a bit more, though they may have to adapt to the new methods they can utilize here. Given, you know, magic, new fuel types, new metals, etcetera.”
“And yet, I feel a certain excitement from you at the prospect of examining the arms that weren’t made by you. Or am I wrong?”
“I am quite interested, yes.”
Luna grinned as they strode through the gallery entrance and back into the disused hall. “I thought so.” Then she sighed. “It’s a pity that you couldn’t see it in its prime.”
“How bad is it now?”
“The toll of maintaining the matters of the kingdom by herself for so many centuries left the armory much neglected, unfortunately. Many pieces were not salvageable. I don’t blame my sister for this, considering the burden she had to bear. But I wish she had at least ordered for a smith or two to maintain the hall. It could easily have been a reward offered to apprentices to encourage them to work harder. To be frank, it’s a miracle the armor you made for me during the war managed to survive.”
Hammer Strike frowned in thought.
“Naturally, I won’t be letting you see it,” Luna added hastily. “However, since I doubt this is information you will come across in history books, I believe it is something I can give you safely. This armor was crafted by you to commemorate a momentous event in Pony history. To be specific, the day that I ascended as the High Chieftess of the Thestrals and united them with our forces in the battle against the Gryphons. It utilized one of those special materials that are not from your world.”
“Sounds like it must have been a pain to make,” Hammer Strike chuckled.
Luna grinned, baring her fangs. “I shall neither confirm nor deny, though I will say this much. All of Equestria's best smiths couldn’t manage to restore it.” She raised her horn, and the two soon found themselves standing before a heavy iron door in a flash of light. “Allow me a moment to prepare the chamber. When the necessary arrangements are complete, I will bring you in.”
Hammer Strike nodded in return.
It took fifteen minutes for the room to be prepared, but Luna finally emerged to grant Hammer Strike entry. “I’m true to my word. I’ve obscured or transferred everything you made. You may handle or observe the remainder as you see fit. You understand how to treat these pieces with respect.”
“All right. Let’s see what survived after all this time.” Most of the weapons racks and armor dummies were totally bare. Three standard weapon racks stood alone in a corner holding shabby excuses for weapons, most of which had been incapacitated by rust and aging. They would likely need to be reforged to regain the splendor they lost. A large pile covered in a series of white sheets stood off in the far end of the room. Luna knew better than to just toss those pieces uselessly to the floor, so it was likely that a spell or enchantment of some kind was being used to organize and protect each piece. The room smelled musty from its prior lack of use, though there was no current sign of dust, and the moisture content of the space was at a reasonable level to avoid causing significant damage, save in extreme circumstances.
“Not many pieces made it?” Hammer Strike looked to the empty racks.
“As I said, most of the pieces that did are Hammer Strike originals,” she said, gesturing toward the pile. “Though I suppose you could say you had a glimpse into one of your weapons when you saw my hammer. It was based in part on a design you forged once.”
“I … had anticipated more standard pieces to have made it,” Hammer Strike remarked, surprised. “Wait, hold on, your hammer was partially based on one of my designs?”
“Yes. I … hope that’s all right. You … had, or I suppose will have, a very large impact on my life.”
“I mean, I wouldn’t have any issues with that. I’m just surprised.” Hammer Strike looked to the large covered pile. “Just … did I truly make enough to warrant a cover of that scale?”
Luna smiled familiarly. “Would you believe that this is only a fraction of the goods you’ve made before?”
Hammer Strike blinked. “¿Qué?”
“So, it’s official now. I … really am going to be Pensword,” Pensword said as he and Moonshade strode through the streets. The quiet had grown almost unbearable after they parted from the Hammer Strike who was and yet was not their Hammer Strike. The fact that Pensword was destined to do such incredible and terrible things left him in a state of continually churning anxiety. And that pressure needed release.
“You’ve been him from the beginning,” Moonshade disagreed.
Pensword shook his head bitterly. “No. I’ve been on a journey to become him, but I’m far from the hero they talk about in the history books.”
“You fought bravely in two of the greatest conflicts that Equestria has ever known in its history and emerged victorious both times. Not because of luck, but because you planned ahead and fought with everything you could bring to bear. You did what was necessary, and you survived, despite the odds that were stacked against you and your friends. You’re closer to that hero than you think.”
“Not nearly close enough.” Pensword sighed. “In a lot of ways, I feel like a fraud. And I can’t help but wonder how I’m going to do all those things properly, and even let some of them happen, if I know what’s going to come.” He shook his head. “I know Hammer Strike said it would work out, but….”
“Then it will work out,” Moonshade said firmly. “He doesn’t lie. You know that.”
“War changes people, Moonshade.”
“Are you talking about Hammer Strike or yourself?”
Pensword winced. “Both, I suppose. I … I don’t want to lose this.” He pointed at himself. “I’m scared of what it might mean, to live a whole other life like that. Will The Doctor alter my memories and my body with his science? Will I just have to arrive at a key point and claim to be the hero while filling in a backstory?” He sighed and gestured toward his ears and mouth. “And then there’s these to worry about. Pensword is half Thestral. I’m just a Pegasus.”
“You are a warrior, Pensword,” Moonshade insisted. “That is enough. The rest will come on its own in due time.”
“So I literally have to fake it till I make it?”
Moonshade smiled and laid a consoling wing over Pensword’s back. “How do you fake yourself?” She shook her head. “No, you’ll be more than enough for any encounter we experience. We can leave the rest to fate and our actions.”
“You mean mine, Grif, and Hammer Strike.” Pensword sighed as his ears drooped. “I wish you could come with us, too.”
“You don’t need me, Pensword,” Moonshade assured him.
Pensword shook his head. “I think that’s where you’re wrong.”
The journey to the Hurricane estate was smooth, barring the occasional weaving through traffic in some of the more cluttered streets. The noble quarters were far less crowded, thanks to the lack of business for Ponies who bore no rank or had no bribes to offer. Since Princess Celestia’s return was a temporary one, the line of petitioners was still held off for now and awaiting the official re-opening after New Year’s had passed. As one of the oldest noble houses in the kingdom, the grounds and the manor itself were far larger than the average noble’s property. It made the Blueblood estate look more like a pond would seem when compared to a vast lake. However, unlike many of the other noble estates, these were divided in carefully regimented regions designed for all manner of training, supply, and defense, most likely to train up the next generation of the family in tradition, if not sincerity.
Guardhouses dotted the property in varying intervals, along with a long rectangular structure that Pensword could only theorize might be a barracks. A well could just be made out closer to the manor, a structure that was equal parts Earth Pony and Pegasus. The building itself was three stories tall, and stretched in a broad span with solid wooden structures and carefully designed shingles to give it a sloping appearance with just a few simpler ornate embellishments to meet the requirements of nobility. The remainder of the structure billowed and towered higher and broader as a veritable miniature fortress spouted seemingly from the roof and multiple windows of the manor in a display that was at once grandiose and intimidating. This was a house well maintained by its owners. And it was one that would serve well in defense of itself and those who took shelter within its walls.
“Well, we’re finally here,” Pensword said softly.
“You’re going to be fine,” Moonshade assured him. “There’s a reason why some called you the paragon of strategy.”
“That’s because I usually have a plan. You can’t exactly plan for something like this.”
“It’s not like you have to meet the Hurricanes you knew during the war. These Ponies are at least five generations removed. Like I said, all you need to do is be yourself. The rest will come on its own. And if you’re that worried about making a mistake, I’ll be there to help you through it. After all, I am your bodyguard, human,” she said with a nudge and a playful smile.
Pensword huffed and shook his head, even as his lips curved in a softer smile of his own. “Then I guess you’d best pay attention, huh, Thestral?” he asked in turn, returning the gesture. Finally, the pair arrived at the gate proper, where a Pegasus in shining armor called out in a commanding tone.
“Hold! State your name and business.”
“I am Lieutenant Colonel Moonshade of the Lunar Guard. At the request of Pensword Hurricane, I am escorting him to see what has become of the ancestral estate where he was accepted as brother and son. Please advise Lord Hurricane of our arrival.”
The guard looked long and hard at the pair. “That is quite a claim to make.”
“It is not one we make lightly,” Pensword returned with equal gravity as he produced a letter with Hammer Strike’s seal. “I trust you recognize this. And I also trust you know that nopony alive would dare to forge it while Lord Hammer Strike draws breath.”
The guard took the missive and opened it. “The rumors of your lord’s brevity are not understated.” He turned it to reveal three simple words.
Let them in.
Pensword facehoofed and sighed. “Yes, that is my lord all right.”
“I’ll have word sent ahead.” The guard opened the gates. “Welcome to The Eye. Please, follow me.”
As they journeyed toward the house, a Gryphon in the midst of a training session with some of the guards turned his head to watch the approach of Pensword and Moonshade, even as he casually deflected the sword strikes his opponents rained on him. “Too sloppy!” he shouted. Then he sighed and shook his head. “That’s enough. Back to the training dummies. I want another five hundred strikes from each of you. Your swings aren’t nearly strong enough.”
While the visitors moved along toward the main house, the Gryphon approached a large birdhouse segmented off for multiple nests. A few chirps soon had a pigeon cooing nearby. He returned the coos with a few avian calls of his own. After what appeared to be an extremely odd exchange to most outsiders, the bird nodded, cooed one last time, then took flight as fast as its wings would carry it toward the castle.
While The Eye was impressive from a distance, it became even more intimidating and beautiful as the party drew closer to the house. Not only was the stone sturdy, but the craftsponies who had carved and set it designed it in such a way to give the impression of winds and clouds to make the structure as fluid as the skies Pegasi called home before the great union took place between the three tribes. It truly was a union between the earth and the skies.
The journey through the entrance hall was nothing grandiose. No parade greeted them, and no ceremony was performed. Servants and guards flitted back and forth in the air or strode purposefully over the ground as their biology allowed. In due time, the two visitors were deposited into a room filled with pillows for comfort when Ponies needed to sit. A few wisps of cloud hovered in a bank at the ceiling as well for those who preferred to use them instead. At the center of the room, a massive table sat waiting for the guests that would be using it, whether for meetings or some other reason. An intricate design for Equestria and its surrounding regions had been etched and stained over its surface in exquisite detail. The rivers and streams looked so real that Pensword felt as if he would dampen his hooves if he touched it.
A tap sent a ripple through the structure as sigils and runes lit up and spread over the surface. In a matter of moments, what once had been rendered in two dimensions sprang to life, projecting cities, mountains, and more. “Is this…?” Pensword asked as he stared at the surface.
“I thought you might recognize it.” The voice was deep and gruff, tinged by one who is used to the authority of command and knows how to carry it well. As Pensword and Moonshade turned to face it, they were met by a dark bruise-purple Pegasus with a searing neon-white mane and tail. He didn’t carry armor, but his body was lean and fit, evidence of the regular training that clearly was put into practice.
“Lord Hurricane, Sir!” Moonshade offered a brisk salute to the Pony.
“At ease, Lieutenant Colonel. We are a military household, but this isn’t a formal visit, and I’m not inspecting you.” He smiled in welcome. “Commander Pensword, it’s an honor and a pleasure to have you back again after all these years.”
“Thank you,” Pensword returned the greeting. “I hope you will forgive me, but I haven’t been informed of your name yet.”
“Then we’ll have to remedy that immediately, won’t we?” The Pegasus laid a hoof respectfully to his breast and lowered his head. “Storming Hurricane, at your service, Commander.” He smiled. “And it’s my pleasure to say welcome home.” He strode to the table and brushed over its surface casually, bringing the map closer the edges of the continent. “As you already surmised, this is the planning table that you used during your tenure as Commander during the Third Gryphon War. One of many, but this one was used for one of the greater victories on record. We’ve kept it as a relic, a reminder, and a family treasure. As you and Grif were so famous for noting, history does not repeat itself, but it often rhymes. We try to prevent that from happening in our family.”
“A wise policy to keep in mind,” Pensword agreed.
“With your permission, Commander, I would like to introduce you to my father as well, Lord Lightning Hurricane.”
“We certainly wouldn’t mind, but may I ask why he wasn’t here with you to meet us?”
“There’s something else he wanted to prepare for you,” the stallion explained. “You did come unexpectedly.” He chuckled. “It almost feels like a surprise inspection.”
“I suppose it does, doesn’t it?” Pensword smiled in turn. “I apologize if my visit has caused any unease. I am not here to judge, only to see what has become of my foster family and learn how Equestria remembers us and our efforts.”
“In that, we can definitely help.” Storming easily deactivated the runes to return the table to its original state, then gestured toward the doors. “Follow me.”
It took a few hurdles to reach their destination. Sometimes that meant taking wing. Other times, they literally had to jump over barriers to the cloudy portions of the structure. Finally, the trio arrived before a set of ornately carved and stained doors painted with the Hurricane family crest that stretched over both of them, portraying the symbol of a hurricane superimposed over a roman shortsword piercing through its eye.
Storming Hurricane pushed open the doors with a flourish and bid them welcome. The room was carved from solid stone shrouded in a perpetual layer of cloud that flowed like breath. Banners, swords, and shields lined the walls, causing the mist to part for their display. War helmets and other relics sat on pedestals by the walls inside of glass cases to preserve their rest and grant a small window into the past from whence they hailed. An ornately designed rug spread over the center of the room, reminiscent of a Turkish design. Large high backed chairs and other types of furniture ranging from divans to settees and more laid with sturdy tables and stands designed to hold the weapons of friend and foe alike.
“Well, it’s about time.” The voice rolled with the rumble of thunder as a large gray stallion rose from his chair. Lightning Hurricane’s eyes were a neon orange that blazed with intensity and an inner will as wild and free as lightning itself. His black mane was lashed with streaks of radiant yellow rimmed with white to simulate the effects of electricity and plasma building. A pair of crossed lightning bolts poked out from the tornado that served as his cutie mark. And as he approached, he was revealed to stand almost as tall and broad as Big Mac. He grinned at the guests and his son. “I’m not sure how to greet you, given how distant our relation technically is. If you don’t mind, I’ll address you as Commander, unless you prefer Pensword.”
Pensword smiled. “My friends call me Pensword. And it is my hope that we can be friends and more. But for now, at least, it probably would be best to stick with Commander, Lord Hurricane. I don’t know how effective the title is in this modern day, but it is familiar to me in an unfamiliar time.”
“Then you honor my house. Though I suppose it is technically your house, too.” He smiled.
“It is an honor for me as well,” Moonshade offered. “House Hurricane has done a lot for helping the Lunar Guard regain their footing amongst the military.”
“You call this a military?” Lightning asked playfully.
“I call the Lunar Guard a military.” She smirked. “The solar guard is just a gentlecolts’ club.”
“With a few exceptions,” Lightning added. “Not many, mind, but I prefer not to drag down the ones who actually know how to be proper soldiers.”
Pensword smiled. “You’ll be glad to know we’re fostering many more of those rare ones back at the Everfree.”
“I’d expect nothing less from you and your companions.” He looked pointedly at his son. “Storming, it’s time for me to fulfill an old promise. You know what has to be done.”
Storming saluted his father and marched out the room, pulling the doors closed behind him with a grim expression. Moments later, the room seemed almost to pulse as the clouds roiled and thickened, spreading over the floor to the point where it was almost impossible to see.
“What is the meaning of this?” Moonshade asked as her body tensed in preparation for conflict.
“A security measure against intruders, nothing more,” Lightning assured her. “No harm will come to you or to Pensword. My family’s loyalty has and always will remain with Equestria and to its rightful rulers. A Gryphon’s specialty lies with the manipulation of stone through their craft. Ours lies with the manipulation of wind, water, and vapor. Not only will this veil obscure any treasures an intruder might wish to take, but it will also prevent them from leaving so much as a scratch on the walls without my permission.” He gave a mighty flap of his wings, and the fog over the floors dispersed to condense over the rest of the walls and circle around the trio in a dome. “A Hurricane is not only trained in tactics, but the careful manipulation of our natural elements. We don’t use them for the sake of games, public relations, and showing off, like the Wondercolts. We use them to defend what is most precious to us.”
He strode to a far wall. “There is a legend passed down through Equestria of a Pony who dared to challenge a Dragon and came out of that encounter alive. Not only did this Pony survive, but he managed to wound the beast and bring it to a standstill.” He glanced over his shoulder at Pensword. “But you know this tale better than any other ever could. To many today, it is deemed a myth perpetuated to raise the status of a great historical figure. But there are those few who know the truth and defend it. I am proud to say that my family is among those few.” With a few careful slashes of his wing tips, a layer of cloud was neatly segmented into a rectangle that rapidly burst apart and dispersed to reveal a stone marked with the house’s crest. “This is the only work we have ever allowed a Gryphon to make in our house, and it was only after ensuring their silence by a magically binding contract. With careful application of his hoof, the vapor in the room seeped into the mortar surrounding the block. A series of detonations emerged from the stone one after the other in a rushing staccato of pops. Then the stone broke free and fell into Lightning’s hooves. He placed it carefully on a nearby cushion, then returned to the surface.
Now that the stone had been removed, a door carved from crystal was revealed. There were no signs of chisel, nor any tool mark that could be seen. It was truly the work of a master, and one adorned by a familiar mark. Pensword gasped at the sight while Lightning Hurricane seized a handle and turned it to release the latch. “We have protected the truth of that story from neighsayers in the past. But we have done so by our words alone. Our charge has not been to share the proof, but to protect it and reveal it only amongst our family.” He reached into the depths of the vault and pulled out a long wooden case. “When last you spoke to my ancestor Tiberius Maximus Hurricane, you gave him something with specific instructions that it be returned to you when you came back to us, and that no other should know of its whereabouts save for us. Given its precious nature, I can understand only too well why you insisted on such precautions.”
Pensword took the case reverently. “Thank you. Is … is this what I think it is?”
“We’ve maintained it as best we could over the centuries. Time has necessitated certain adjustments, but it should still handle the same way it did for you during the war.”
Pensword lowered the box to the floor, flicked open the latches, and raised the lid to reveal the legacy he had left behind for himself. Lightning had dropped enough hints to tell the Pegasus exactly what he needed to know.
The weapon looked like a trident at first glance. Its many prongs and long shaft certainly hinted in that direction. But on closer inspection, Pensword came to realize that the curve of the supposed prongs and their smooth ends were more indicative of a familiar farm implement he had seen so many times while visiting the Apples at their farm. These weren't prongs, but tines. A makeshift prong had been forged midway down each tine, most likely a new addition that was added either later in the war or in the peacetime after to grant it more utility for causing damage when removing it from the enemy. Where the metal met the wood at the weapon’s base, Pensword found that his cutie mark had been carved to identify it as his own. The handle and shaft were made from fire-hardened red oak that stretched for five feet. A modification to the weapon included two bit points where a Pony could more easily wield the weapon with their mouth if needed. The weapon’s name was carved out in English, and he ran his hooves over the grooves. “Concord,” he breathed softy.
“As you said, this is an unfamiliar time. I hope an old friend may prove helpful to you as you continue to adjust.”
Pensword raised the weapon and tested it for balance before performing a few lunges and thrusts. “I believe it will.” He smiled then. “The additions were unexpected, but they are welcome.” He brushed the woodwork. “I didn’t expect my cutie mark to be placed on it.”
“It only seemed proper. The weapon is yours, after all.” Lightning nodded. “Though it’s said you once told my ancestor that this weapon was meant for more than war. ‘Concord is able to create as much as destroy. It can help or hinder because it was created to do what was needed.’ Whether that be to fight or to serve its original purpose in times of peace. Or so we’ve come to believe.”
“Strange, I don’t remember saying those words.” Pensword’s mouth curved in a smile. “But it certainly sounds like something I would say. My first father taught me much about the impact and power of the word, both written and spoken. It helped me to develop the charisma I needed to be a proper leader.”
“And to teach a proud colt a much-needed lesson in humility,” Lightning added with a wry smile.
Pensword brushed the weapon gently and sighed before placing it on his back. “Then, as a gift to my many times removed adopted nephews, allow me to make a promise. Should I fall in battle or become lost again, as I was after the Third Gryphon War, Concord will be returned here, to her home, to be kept or used by House Hurricane as it sees fit, whether for peace or for war. I trust you to do the honorable thing.”
“You really are worthy of the title Paragon.” Lightning smiled, then offered a smart salute to Pensword. “You honored our house then, and you still honor us today.”
Pensword returned the salute. “It was I who was honored, Lord Hurricane. To be considered adopted kin to one of the founding families of Equestria, as well as a great military commander in his own right, is a boon that cannot be rivaled. I must admit, it still feels like a dream when I hear those words. I looked up to Commander Hurricane as I grew up in Mountainside Falls.”
“And he would doubtless approve of you, Commander. His diplomacy left much to be desired. Yours, at least, had more reservation and tact.”
“Not always.” Pensword chuckled. “And Commander Hurricane did improve much after Equestria was properly founded.”
“Then it seems that you have more Hurricane in you than some might think.” Lightning smiled. “We’ve also made sure to preserve your estate and holdings in trust between the Bluebloods and ourselves over the years, since the founder of that house was a friend and comrade to you during the war. Certain things have been liquidated for the sake of convenience. Naturally, when you are prepared, we will assist you with the formalities of transferring ownership back into your hooves. Regrettably, we won’t be able to pay you interest, since a saving’s account was out of the question after your disappearance, but the princesses were adamant that the lands and funds be maintained for you or a direct descendant alone.”
“Our princesses have excellent foresight,” Pensword noted dryly.
“And their share of secrets?”
“So you’ve noticed that trait, too.”
“Part of the job of being a soldier. If we don’t have the clearance, we don’t ask.” Lightning chuckled. “But now is not the time to discuss such things. Now should be a time of celebration and reunion.” He closed the crystal door and placed the stone back onto the surface. Once more, he willed the vapor to enter the cracks. This time, the sound that emerged was a curious crunching until Lightning removed his hooves from the block, and it stayed. “A clever alchemical creation. The crystal reacts to water vapor. Feed it enough, and it will grow rapidly to adhere to whatever surface it wishes while it expands. Give it too much, and the bonds will destabilize and dissolve, not unlike a solvent.”
“Very clever,” Pensword agreed.
“It certainly helps to prevent the traditional methods of detection from succeeding.” With one more flap of his wings, the room returned to the way it was before, and he led them to the doors before knocking to exit. “Now, then, it’s been centuries since you were here last. Let me give you the grand tour. It’s only fair to get you reacquainted after all these years.”
Pensword smiled as Moonshade strode up beside him. “Yes, I think we’d like that very much.”
Hammer Strike was bored again. The visit to the armory was underwhelming, considering how few items could actually be viewed safely without risking pollution of the time stream. He was at once awed and frustrated at what that could mean. The number of pieces were difficult, if not impossible to count. That implied what could have been years worth of effort. Years that would be spent in the past. Not a few days, not an afternoon, but years.
He was not looking forward to that.
He longed for a distraction, but the halls were mostly empty. He could hear the approach of some creatures farther away, but that was of little concern right now. The meeting at Fancy Pants’ home couldn’t come fast enough. But even that thought did little to distract from the fate hanging over his head like an albatross.
Most servants in the palace tended to avoid him, so he didn’t expect to encounter any problems, nor did he expect for them to allow themselves to be seen. Those who did usually focused on their tasks and tried not to stare as he passed. He still felt them, all the same. He always felt someone watching. And that, too, at least in part, helped keep him from sleep.
However, it was not a stare that broke his stride in the end, but a squawk of surprise and outrage followed by the scrabbling of talon and claw before balance was restored. The Gryphon growled as he adjusted his silken robes. “Watch where you’re going, you ignorant buffoon!”
“Says the one who sharply rounds corners in a hurry,” Hammer Strike remarked flatly. He was not in the mood for this.
“I don’t have time for this,” the Gryphon snarled as one of his entourage handed him a small sheaf of parchments. One glance revealed a curiously detailed white feather with a black tip incorporated into the first letter after the medieval style of an illuminated manuscript before the papers were properly rolled. “Out of my way. I must find a Dragonfire lamp immediately.”
“Oh, don’t let me stop you. Not like I planned on wasting my time with this.” Hammer Strike rolled his eyes before gesturing for them to continue on.
“As soon as you step aside, we’ll gladly do so.”
Hammer Strike stared at him flatly. “... Really? Wow, you must have some fragile pride.”
“Do you know who I am, Earth Pony?” he growled as he eyed Hammer Strike. “Move aside!”
“I really don’t care who you are.” Hammer Strike took a step forward. “Do you honestly think I’d just bend upon hearing how special you must be?”
“One would think your kind would show some common courtesy,” the Gryphon growled.
“To repeat myself, says the one who bumped into me.” Hammer Strike sighed. “I suppose I shouldn’t have expected better.”
“Just move so I can be on my way.”
Hammer Strike rolled his eyes and pushed his way past the Gryphon. “You’re not worth the effort.” He sighed.
The Gryphon sneered, and there was the sound of metal on metal as weapons were partially drawn. “Watch yourself, you—”
“Is there a problem here, Sir Valerius, Lord Hammer Strike?” A pair of Solar Guard Earth Ponies strode around the corner and frowned at the sight of the delegates.
“Don’t believe there is,” Hammer Strike replied before slowly turning towards the Gryphons behind him. “Is there?”
The Gryphons blanched a bit, sheathing their weapons. “No, of course not,” the lead Gryphon said. “We were just leaving.”
Hammer Strike stared for a moment longer before turning his attention back to the guard and shrugging.
“May we offer you an escort, Sir?” the stallion asked the Gryphon.
“No,” Valerius said firmly, albeit hastily. Then he cleared his throat. “We’re fine.” With that said, they hurried off with the same, if not greater haste than what had led to their first collision with Hammer Strike.
The guards raised querying brows. “How odd,” the first mused.
“Would you care for an escort, Sir?” the second asked of Hammer Strike.
“I’m not in need of one. Thank you.” Hammer Strike shook his head. “I’m just wandering the halls to allow time to pass before my meeting with Fancy Pants.”
“You’ll find him in the art gallery, Sir. He decided to visit the castle for some reason today. I overheard one of the maids talking about it on our way here.”
“Oh, well, that works out then,” he replied with some surprise. “Here’s hoping he doesn’t mind an early chat.”
He nodded. “With your permission, Sir, we’ll escort you to the one in question. As I’m sure you’re aware, the princesses have quite the collection, and one gallery isn’t enough to hold it all.”
“Fair enough,” Hammer Strike agreed. “Lead the way.”
“So that’s the story, Joe.” Grif finished slurping his coffee. “What do you think about that one?”
Joe keeled over on the counter, tears streaming as he struggled to control his laughter. “Those delegates have been asking for it. You should’ve seen them in here yesterday.” He shook his head.
“They’ve been causing you trouble?” Grif asked.
Joe shook his head. “Tried, until they realized that I was the one serving them. Folks from the other side of the ocean seem to think too much about being better than others instead of helping them. You ever like that growing up?”
Grif laughed. “You know, Joe, life really has a sense of humor. I was raised a warrior, and I’ve probably killed more of my own kind than anything else. But it was never about proving I was better than anyone else. It was just about doing the right thing for the right reasons.”
“With your history, I’m glad you’re on our side.” Joe chuckled.
“I would’ve been regardless, Joe. There’s nothing acceptable about eating an intelligent being. Heck, I couldn’t even eat dolphin or otter as a cub. It was too weird,” Grif said, borrowing from his human beliefs as well as Grif’s history.
“Besides Thestrals, most Ponies don’t have to really think of that,” Joe replied. “No meat and all that.”
“Be glad you don’t. All veggie diet except milk and eggs, and maybe fish for Pegasi, and you all grow up sturdier than a brick outhouse.” Grif laughed. “If a Gryphon doesn’t eat his meat, he ends up sickly and small.”
“Jeez,” Joe replied. “At least you’ve got something to keep you going. I won’t ask what. I’d rather avoid that.” He chuckled lightly.
Grif pulled out his sack of bits and placed it on the counter. The sound of the door opening behind him was not unnoticed. Neither was the muted sound of grating metal. “Now, I hope what happens next doesn’t put anything between us, Joe,” he said seriously. “And if what's in there doesn’t cover everything, just make sure to get ahold of me in Ponyville. Now, if you’ll excuse me for a moment.” The Gryphon turned around and slammed his mug into the face of the Gryphon that had been approaching from behind. A small dagger fell from the would-be-assailant’s grasp and clattered to the ground. Grif then proceeded to grab the Gryphon’s head and slam its beak into the counter.
“Okay, first off, you were obviously contracted outside of Canterlot or you’d have tried this already. So let’s cover this once. Who sent you? The Gryphons?”
The assassin gurgled slightly.
“Yeah, I figured. Who in particular? Can’t tell me or they’ll kill you?”
Another gurgled reply as Grif bent his ear to listen.
“I figured that one, too. Well, thanks for what you could tell me.” Grif got up, and as he did so, sunk his talons into the assassin's neck to pierce his carotid artery and wind pipe. He grabbed one of the disposable napkins and wiped the blood from his talons. “Like I said, Joe, if that doesn’t cover everything, just let me know.”
“You’re getting the guards to clean this up,” Joe said bleakly.
“They should be down within the hour. If they ask, he killed himself,” Grif noted coolly as he walked out the door. Donut Joe’s had been empty when Grif got in, so fortunately all Joe had to do to avoid a scene was switch the sign to closed and pull the curtains.
Inside his mind, Grif, or more importantly Taze, was trying to figure out what he had just done himself. The human had no idea about the politics of battle and assassinations, and so he hadn’t figured the delegates would be so bold as to put a hit on him. Grif, however, had not only seen it coming, but had counted on it. It was strange, having such instincts and urges manifest so strongly in his mind. There were points where it was hard for him to tell where either started or finished. In other cases, the traits of one clearly ruled over the other like some kind of sadistic alter ego. As he pondered this curious change, Grif strolled up to some guards. “Donut Joe’s is in need of your assistance, gentlemen,” he explained.
The guards took one glance at the Gryphon and the spots of blood he missed that had sprayed onto his cloak. Then they looked at each other. “Blood feud?” one asked as if they were just discussing the weather. “If so, we’ll need you to come to our guard post to file a statement. As for what happens next, it’ll be up to the law to decide. If you have a lawer, I advise you call them as well.”
Grif shrugged. “Species feud,” he clarified. “I defended your tribes, and they didn’t like it. I will go quietly if need be, but I am staying at the palace, so it wouldn’t be too hard to find me. If it really is necessary, please inform Princesses Celestia and my lord, Hammer Strike, where they can find me.”
The Guards nodded as they wrote the information down. “We’ll need your name before we can move forward. After that, you can report to the guard station at the Canterlot Castle gatehouse. We’ll be there in about a half hour to question you. Or, if the situation is urgent enough and there is a trained interrogator, they will take your statement sooner.”
Grif nodded. “I am Grif, son of Graf. I hope this matter will be settled shortly,” he said before taking off in the direction of Canterlot’s gatehouse.
The guards took the name down and made their way toward Donut Joe’s. As they did so, the first guard turned to his companion. “Why does that name sound familiar?”
The second one shrugged. “No clue. Must be part of one of those mercenary bands that’re flying in. Been a lot of new recruits lately, from what I understand.”
“I’m very glad we could meet, Lord Hammer Strike.” Fancy Pants smiled genuinely at the Earth Pony after the guards finished their escort to the gallery. “I’ve been looking forward to this meeting since I heard of your resurfacing.”
“The feeling is mutual,” Hammer replied. “I know our meeting wasn’t meant to happen for a few more hours, but when I heard you were already here in the castle, I thought perhaps I could meet you early.”
“Well I’m glad you agreed to meet with me at all after the fiasco last night,” he noted. “Sorry. I pay various sources to keep me informed on things of note going on in the city. And the ... unique viewpoint of certain nobles is always of note, particularly at an event where a legendary figure such as yourself chooses to attend.”
“Indeed,” Hammer replied flatly. “It certainly is … something.” He sighed. “To be more specific, it’s rather insulting, especially to those who came and fought alongside me.”
“I hope you won’t take their words as representation for the entire nobility,” Fancy Pants said. “We’re not all so ungrateful, nor so bigoted.”
“I do not; trust me. Even in my time, there were still the … unsavory ones.” Hammer shook his head. “But enough about that. How goes it?”
“Curiously enough, ever since you came back, there’s been an increase in income for many nobles, myself included, despite the setback of repairs from the Changeling incident. Fleur and I plan to put it toward a new addition onto the Canterlot Home for Needy. Canterlot may be a rich city, but it does still have its problems, unfortunately.”
“Things tend to find a way to happen,” Hammer replied. “All we can do is plan and act.”
Fancy Pants nodded. “Fleur is of the same mind.”
“Lord Hammer Strike?” a somewhat gruff voice asked behind the pair.
Hammer Strike found himself looking at a young guard trying his best to reflect his seniors. “Yes? Did something happen?”
“Message from the castle gatehouse, Sir.” The newly minted guard offered a simple scroll.
Taking the message, Hammer Strike offered the guard his thanks before the young colt rushed off as fast as he could, a giddy grin plastered on his face in a very unguardsman-like manner. But that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. Hammer Strike couldn’t help but smile at the antics. Finally, he turned his attention back to Fancy Pants with a subtly raised brow. “Sorry, one moment.” The scroll unfurled easily, and his eyes trailed over the message with rapid speed before he paused and rolled the scroll again. His expression turned flat as he gave a soft sigh.
“Something wrong? Is someone hurt?” Fancy Pants asked.
“Possibly. It appears Grif had a bit of an incident, and my presence has been requested. I’m sorry, but it appears I have to cut this meeting short. I shall still be around for your invite.” He smiled. “Have a good day, Fancy Pants. And until we meet again, I bid you adieu.”
“If you need any legal help, just send me a message,” Fancy Pants offered as Hammer Strike left.
Hammer Strike gave a small smirk as he exited the room before his face fell back to flat. “Now…” He turned towards one of the guards stationed around the area. “Excuse me, could you by chance give me directions to the gatehouse?”
“Just follow this hallway to the front door. Exit those doors, continue down the main cobblestone path to the gate, and it will be on the left,” the Unicorn guard replied, indicating the proper direction with an extended hoof.
“Thank you,” Hammer replied. He soon found himself at the gatehouse. It seemed that somepony had told the guards what Hammer Strike looked like, as they immediately stepped aside without question to allow him entrance. There, in the front room, sitting calmly at a table, was Grif. Wasting no time, Hammer Strike looked directly across the table at what had to be the chief.
“So, what happened this time?” Hammer Strike asked.
“These Ponies seem to have mistakenly believed I killed another Gryphon in cold blood.” Grif shrugged.
“Did you kill another Gryphon in cold blood?”
“No.” Grif folded his arms. “He tried to kill me, and I reacted. There were witnesses. Well, there was a witness.”
The chief sighed. “Until we can verify just who the dead Gryphon is, we have to deal with this in a civil manner. At the moment, it is not cold blood, but we frown on Gryphons continuing blood feuds within our borders.” He paused as he really took a close look at the pair. “Uh, Lord Hammer Strike, as in Lord Hammer Strike of the Empty House?” he asked as he posed a quill over parchment.
“Not so empty, it seems,” Hammer chuckled. “Yes.”
“Ho boy.” The chief sat on his haunches with an audible slump as his armor clattered against the floor. After taking a moment to gather himself, he continued. “All right, so here’s what we’re going to do then. While the investigation is in process, I think I can let you go for now, Mister Grafson. You’ll just be going to Ponyville, right? It’s my understanding that two of the Shields are there anyway serving under your lord. They used to serve in our unit before they were transferred to the Bluebloods’ employ. If we need to call you in for more questioning, we’ll get word to them.” He turned to another guard. “Find out all the feuds that are active against Grif and the nobility connected to Hammer Strike’s name.” He paused, tapping a hoof against his chin. “Look in the ancient inactive lists as well from the wartime era,” he added.
“You might as well bring everything, soldier. Every family within Gryphonia, be they royal, noble, major, minor, commoner, or just about anyone else, really, probably has it out for me. I’m pretty sure the emperor keeps my picture on his dartboard,” Grif listed. “Oh, and apparently all the non-sentient penguins in the south. Don’t ask.”
The chief waved him off and heaved a heavy sigh. “I think I can already see why. Okay, Grif. Give us a week’s notice so we can beef security if you visit. We don’t want a dead Gryphon every time you come to Canterlot. It’s not like we can just ban you from the capital.” He paused as a thought occurred to him. “Now that I think about it, that goes for your entire house, Lord Hammer Strike. Or what’s left of it, anyway. They might go after you to get to Grif.”
“I highly suggest you have your men study Ramifications of the Third Gryphon War by Purple Pansy. It has lists for each of us, names of sworn blood oaths, even a graph to show the approximate hatred we’ve amassed,” Grif noted.
“Not sure if I am proud or … worried,” Hammer Strike commented with a thoughtful gaze. Then he shook his head. “Nah, I don’t feel worried.”
“I must say, gentleponies, you handled yourselves incredibly well, and I shall be sure Celestia only lectures you on your negligence mildly. Until then, I bid you adieu,” Grif said with a bow.
“We were only doing our job.” The chief shrugged. “I wouldn’t care if you were a high House member, or even one of the princesses yourself. If you break the law, you’ll have a visit from me.”
“Yes, but you didn’t send a message to the princess as I asked,” Grif noted. “And also, I gave you my name, spelt it out for your books. History should never be ignored, lest you are forced to repeat it. And your country can scarcely afford to repeat anything.”
The guard that had been sent to gather the materials necessary to begin the proper profiling flopped a massive stack of papers on an empty desk before speaking up. “In the last decade, we’ve had six killings, all of which used either your name or a claim to your bloodline to try and keep the charges small. As you said, not only are you despised by the Gryphonian Empire, your name has become a word to condone certain murders and killings. So as much as we may or may not have wanted to believe you, we had to take what you said with a grain of salt and follow procedure.”
Grif smirked. “Then I will bear that badge proudly.” Then he laughed.
“Bear what proudly, Grif?” Celestia walked into the room with her usual grace and a scroll held under her left wing. “My apologies for not coming sooner. I had to deal with greeting the incoming Zebrican delegation for some trade discussions. I’m afraid that means I’ll be tied up here for a while yet, so only my sister will be returning to Ponyville for the New Year’s Eve celebration.”
“The matter is well in hand, Princess.” Grif chuckled. “The assassin has been dealt with, and your guards have investigated the matter. I must ask, though. When was an eye witnesses not enough to ward off suspicion in Equestria? Your flair for the judicial system seems to be slipping.”
Princess Celestia offered only a wan smile in turn. “Regrettably, the past has also shown that witnesses can be bought.” She shook her head as she looked at the prostrate armored equines. The stack of papers that had been so carefully placed now lay scattered across the room thanks to the rush of motion. “Rise, my guards. In official matters like this, one does not need to bow. It takes away from your duties and tasks.” With a casual flick of her horn, the papers were reorganized on the table. The guards rose to their hooves hesitantly. “Now,” Celestia continued, “I have the report confirming that Donut Joe was not lying, nor was he bribed. And I can assure you of its veracity, having conducted the interrogations myself. Also, I assure you that these two, and the rumors of Pensword’s return, are real. I commend you for adhering so strictly to your duty and the protocols that have been set by precedent. Seeing as this is a rather unique situation, however, certain protocols may need to be loosened in the future regarding these three. There will be no need for chastisement. I merely advise you to trust and believe these three from now on. They have proven themselves to be true and loyal friends to the kingdom, and they would die before they betrayed that trust.”
She smiled sweetly. “It is a relief to know that the royal lawyers won’t have to be consulted in this matter.” Then she turned that smile on Hammer Strike and Grif. “Why don’t you two come back to the palace with me? I would gladly have you over for some afternoon tea and cake.” Then she turned back to the guards. “Please return the weapons you confiscated, and remove the talon guards you’ve placed on Grif. He is no longer a suspect, and he won’t be needing those where we’re going.”
Fifteen minutes of re-equipping later, Grif and friends walked out of the gatehouse smiling. “Well, I’m glad that's over,” he said.
Hammer Strike shrugged in response.
“So that means I got one up on you.” Grif smiled.
“Give it a day or two,” Hammer Strike chuckled.
“How long do you figure they’ll keep trying?” Grif asked.
“For a while, without a doubt. Right now, I’m just wondering who’s next, as it is probably coming up soon.”
“Guess we’d better find Pensword and Moonshade,” Grif noted. “They're certainly not going to take a shot with an Alicorn less than two meters behind us.”
“Certainly, but he is at House Hurricane if I remember correctly,” Hammer replied.
“Then we’d best make our way over there,” Celestia said. “Calmly, of course. I doubt they’ll be in any danger while they’re with Lightning Hurricane, but once they leave his estate, it will be another story.”
Concord laid uncomfortably across Pensword’s back as he and Moonshade bade their goodbyes and began to walk through the capitol’s streets. The air was cold, as winter air should be, but the wind wasn’t biting or chill, thanks to the ever-vigilant weather patrol.
“I have to admit, I didn’t expect to be given something like this,” Pensword said, gesturing toward the weapon.
“It’s no different than any of the weapons Hammer Strike forged lasting till now,” Moonshade said. “You just have to look at it in that light.”
“Perhaps, but it doesn’t change the weight of expectation behind it. Just because history says I made it through a war doesn’t mean I want there to be one.”
“We didn’t want one either, and yet, we had no choice.” Moonshade smiled sadly. “You know well what happens when tyrants are allowed to rage unopposed.”
Pensword sighed heavily. “True. Our world has seen its share of them, too.”
Moonshade looked up at the sky. “There’s still daylight left. If you’d like to go somewhere else, we should have enough time.”
Pensword pondered that carefully. “Do you think we could visit the Gryphon quarter? It feels like ages since we saw the Traitor’s Tail.”
“I’m not entirely sure that’s a wise decision,” Moonshade pointed out. “You’re not going as Matthew the human right now. You’re going as Pensword, the commander. There are probably many there who would be willing to welcome you, but there are many more who would doubtless want to kill you after the dishonor you brought to their ancestors.”
“You mean the dishonor I’ll bring to them. It hasn’t happened yet.”
“And yet it has and will.”
Pensword groaned and shook his head. “Did I mention I hate time travel?”
“Yes. On several occasions when you discuss the one you call The Doctor.”
“Give it a while. You’ll get to know him yourself at some point, I’m sure. Especially if you keep with us.”
“Perhaps a visit to some shops or a restaurant?”
Pensword considered that for a time, then shook his head and sighed. “No, I think the next place I need to go is … somewhere you’re not going to like.”
“What do you mean?”
“Pensword is a hero in Equestria, especially among Thestrals. You said so yourself. In all the time Pensword has been back from the dead, has he even once gone to see how his people are doing here in the capitol?”
Moonshade’s face hardened. “Pensword….”
“Moonshade, you know I’m right. It makes sense.”
“Not from a tactical standpoint. It’s asking for trouble. At worst, you might cause a turf war.”
Pensword shook his head vigorously. “No. You know as well as I do. The Gryphons may not always stand on the right side of the law, but they know the rules. They know better than to risk attacking any Pony in the open. And it’s a place where we can call for reinforcements quickly if they’re needed.”
“Are you suggesting asking civilians to sacrifice themselves if someone does choose to attack you?”
Pensword’s expression hardened. “You know me better than that, Moonshade.”
As they made their way toward the Gryphon and Thestral quarters, they found themselves having to make detours on the way, broken stalls or upturned cars seemingly placed randomly creating new obstacles as they walked. Moonshades eye’s narrowed a bit after a while.
“You saw it, too?” Pensword asked. “They’re being too sloppy.”
“They’re herding us.” She nodded while speaking quietly.
“They also seem anxious to keep their cloaks close. Any time there’s a breeze, they reach to secure them. That would imply they may be trying to hide something, don’t you think?”
“They’re likely assassins,” she said. “Someone wants us dead.”
“You mean someone wants me dead,” Pensword returned. “You’re just my escort. If worse came to worst, we could use the element of surprise, give you an opening to get help while I bait them.”
“I’ve been your escort long enough that they aren't likely to overlook me if they’re sending people after you. Like it or not, our fates are tied.”
Pensword chuckled. “By the red string of fate?”
“Not entirely sure what you mean by that, but the metaphor seems adequate.”
Pensword blushed and nodded. “How close are we to the main square of the quarter?”
“I’m not sure. Fairly close, I think, though they may try and herd us farther away.”
“Any chance we can try flying to get away?”
“We wouldn’t make ten feet.” She shook her head. “Gryphons learn the bow as soon as they’re able.”
“I assume the same goes with wall jumping?”
“A fair guess.” She nodded.
“We’re going to have to shake them at some point or try to break through, then,” he murmured casually as they took yet another turn. “That or break into someone’s house to try to lose them.”
“Honestly, fighting is the better option if we can get them into a confined space.”
“We’ll need to do it somewhere we won’t end up hurting civilians, then. Most Gryphons can hold their own, but I don’t want any cubs getting hurt.”
She nodded. “Just keep your eye open for something we can use.”
“Should we try arguing? It could draw some ears our way.”
“If we find a good spot to make use of.” She nodded. “It’s not a terrible plan.”
“You think they’ll be that accommodating?”
“I think we need to come up with something quickly.”
“I’m open to any ideas that don’t involve noble sacrifices.”
“Give me a minute to think on it. Act natural.”
“Isn’t that what we’re doing anyway?”
Moonshade didn’t answer as she took in their surroundings. She was running out of ideas when she caught sight of a symbol on one of the buildings. “Trip and fall,” she said quietly.
“Do you have any idea how hard it is for me to do tha—?” As if in answer to their need, Concord suddenly slipped from its place. Whether it was due to the balance thrown off by their gait or something else, the weapon clattered to the cobblestones, but not before it tangled one one of his hooves and raked across one of his fetlocks. Pensword wasn’t about to waste the chance, and to freeze or move too quickly would alert their attackers. Instead, he hissed in pain and crouched to look at the wound while reclaiming the weapon.
Moonshade moved in and almost seemed to pantomime examining it. “Put your wing on my body and lean on me while we walk,” she said, escorting him toward the building.
Pensword nodded. “Let me put Concord back first,” he said aloud, rising to his other hooves while favoring the one that had been injured. He did as bidden, laying a wing on the mare for support before returning the weapon to his back, then limping with Moonshade’s assistance.
With that, she led him into the Northern Isles Trading Company building, thanking the moon that she remembered what the symbol meant.
There were a total of six Gryphons present in the space. One was busy manning the counter while the other five were tending the shelves and restocking supplies from bandages and other medical items to basic survival gear and leather pieces ranging from quivers to pauldrons and more as needed by the customer. A single set of metal armor sat on a mannequin shaped like a Gryphon to provide scale and proportion for a customer to consider.
“Welcome to Northern Isles Trading. How may I help you today?” the Gryphon at the counter asked. He looked his customers over with the double eyes of a predator and trained bargainer. Though the two were practically twins at their basest form. “Don’t see many Pegasi around this quarter,” he noted casually, even as he eyed the pitchfork. “Particularly not wielding farm implements.”
“We need help,” Moonshade said quietly. “We’re being tailed by someone. They’ve been herding us.”
“And what sort of help are you expecting to receive?” the sales Gryphon asked. “I can offer you an excellent kit to deal with your wound,” he noted idly. “Very high quality. The injury is self-inflicted, I assume?” he asked as he snapped his fingers and an employee carried the product over. “It includes salve for disinfecting, of course. And a number of tonics to treat basic venoms and poisons you might encounter in the wilds.” He approached the pair with practiced ease. “Naturally, I may be convinced to offer a small sample if you are looking to verify our product’s quality.
“Do you know who this is?” Moonshade asked.
“Do be quiet, girl. The adults are talking,” the Gryphon murmured out the side of his beak as he reached into the kit to remove a small sealed bottle. “Ah, yes, numbing agent. Just the ticket. Bit of a waste to use on a wound like this, but a few drops shouldn’t be an issue,” he said in his more public voice. The stopper was easily removed, and a cloth held against it to take the slightest portion, as the Gryphon promised. Then he added a portion of salve and applied it to the site with a bandage wrapping. “That weapon shouldn’t be here,” he noted. “Not unless the Northeast Protocols have been activated. Have they?”
“Lord Lightning Hurricane placed Concord in my care. Returned it, to be more accurate,” Pensword noted as the wrapping paused briefly. “And you should know that if I had tried to steal it, then I and my companion would look far worse than we do now. And Canterlot would be swarmed with guards. Please, don’t stop. We don’t have much time. Our adversaries will only wait for so long before they either attack the shop en masse or send one of their own in to keep an eye on us.”
“We were contracted to protect the weapon, not its owner,” the Gryphon replied as he finished his work with expert care.
“You make it sound like we can’t pay you.”
“Protection services are expensive in the capitol. Particularly when not associated with any of the main mercenary groups.”
“And you can accept the word of Commander Pensword Hurricane that they will be paid,” Pensword returned.
“No,” the Gryphon replied as he rose back to his full height and laid the case on a counter nearby. “You’re not Commander Pensword.” He smirked mischievously and pulled back his sleeve to reveal what appeared to be a leather wrist-guard with a raised cylindrical covering. “At least not yet.” Then the Gryphon winked at him.
Pensword’s mouth dropped agape. “No,” he murmured.
“Oh, don’t worry. I’m not the Pony of the hour. But I have kept my eye out for you and your friends to come back.” He chuckled. “I just didn’t expect it to be before you really came back. I wonder how it’s going to happen. Could be a vortex manipulation, I suppose. Or a time rift. But only functioning manipulator in Equestria’s with me, so that’s flat out.” He flipped open the case to reveal a sleek metal finish underneath and a flickering screen with a number of buttons. “Given where we are in the time stream, this must be about when….” He hissed. “Ooh, Black Tips.”
Pensword groaned. “Why did it have to be him? Why couldn’t it be the Brigadier?”
The silence that occurred was deafening as all action within the room seemed to still at the utterance of the assassins’ name.
“Black Tips?” one Gryphoness asked angrily.
“Oh, yes. By now, I’d wager there are probably dozens of them at least in the city, possibly hundreds. Depends on the size of the bounty. Which, according to my records is….” He whistled. “Wow. You guys really pissed someone off. Interestingly enough, give it a few decades or so, maybe a generation or two and the Black Tips will have a real renaissance in a good way. Of course, that depends on if the seeds get planted at the right time and place, which, interestingly enough, is right here in Equestria, with Grif Grafson no less. But that’s then, not now.” He walked casually behind the counter and pulled out a black collapsible bow. He kissed the bow and smiled. “Winds, I missed you, girl.” Then he strapped on a quiver and sword. “What are you all doing standing there? Arm up! Or are you actually going to let those assassins get away with sneaking in under our noses?”
There was a flurry of motion as warhammers, axes, bows and quivers were distributed, and the Gryphons readied themselves for what was to come.
“One of you needs to get word to the other Gryphons in the quarter,” Pensword noted. “The more people made aware of it, the harder it will be for them to act. And the easier it’ll be to hunt them all down.”
“Sorry to disappoint, but we don’t have a secret passage. What we do have are six extremely well trained warriors who know how to take on just about every form of Gryphon combat known to Equis. And in my case, on twelve other worlds at least.”
“Jack Harkness,” Pensword groaned again.
“Harness, actually,” Jack corrected. “But close enough.” He grinned. “Let’s see how these guys fare against a Gryphon who can’t die. And as for the rest of you, if you don’t escort these two to safety and raise the alarm, there’s not going to be a future in Equestria for you. So I expect you to put in the work. Otherwise, Grif Grafson will probably come to kill us all himself.”
One of the others nodded as they and another Gryphon moved to show Pensword and moonshade to the backroom. The others prepared to fight.
“Not to insult your prowess,” Pensword said. “But with the number of Gryphons that we passed, we don’t have a guarantee that they’ll all be stopped here. If there’s no hidden exit, is there a place we can break out if need be to widen the field of battle and potentially summon reinforcements?”
“Don’t worry.” One of the Gryphons leading them smirked. “We know what we’re doing, this isn’t our first rodeo.”
“Those aren’t your typical bulls either,” Pensword noted, then growled to himself. “And here I thought Sombra was the last we’d have to deal with for this.”
“You’ll be fine,” Moonshade said. “Just be ready and keep on your hooves.”
Pensword nodded. “The sooner we can end this, the better. Is there a way we can get word to the Thestrals from here? Some sort of secret signal or something?”
“Depends if they have a dog whistle in here,” she noted.
“Seriously?”
“These ears aren't for show.” She wiggled them lightly. “The right notes can be used to signal Thestrals far away.”
Pensword nodded. “If there is one here in the store room, is there a window or something we can use to try to get the word out?” he asked of the Gryphons who had escorted them in.
“Don’t worry. We’ll have something for you,” she said.
They were led into a large reinforced storage area. Crates and shelves were packed in the far side of the room containing various goods. The room did indeed have a small singular window on the wall that could be opened from the inside only. The outside was coated in bars to prevent thieves from breaking in. The female Gryphon unfolded her bow and drew an arrow before scanning the window to make sure there was no one planning a shot from the outside.
“Clear,” she called, stepping back.
“And the whistle?” Pensword asked.
“Check the crate in the corner,” she noted.
Moonshade checked and found the whistle after finding a false bottom in the apparently empty crate, along with several more bows and a quiver of emergency arrows.
“We’ll need to be ready,” Pensword noted. “If Gryphon ears are sharp enough, our assailants might hear it, too. Don’t let yourself be too exposed, okay, Moonsahde?”
Moonshade nodded her understanding and approached the window with whistle in hoof. It didn’t take long to crack the window and push the end of the whistle out of the gap in the bars. Then she began to blow carefully while using a hoof to partially cover the end of the whistle. Pensword winced as he heard the sonic frequency for the first time in his life. It wasn’t pleasant, but it was bearable. After repeating herself three times, Moonshade retracted the whistle.
“Once more into the breach,” Pensword mouthed, pulling Concord off his back and giving a few experimental thrusts and parries with it. “I prefer my wing blades, but I can make do.”
“And you’ll have to.” Moonshade sighed. “Honestly, we’re extremely lucky for all this.”
“Just don’t go and say it’s fate.” Pensword smiled. “I’d rather not jynx it.”
She rolled her eyes and got ready at the entrance to the room. “Just be ready.”
“Sure thing,” Pensword said as he followed her example. “Just as soon as I meet him.”
Further conversation was cut off rather suddenly as the sounds of fighting broke out outside the room. It was obvious their attackers had made their way inside.
It took ten minutes or so before the first of the assailants managed to break through and began working on the door. Pensword and Moonshade’s escorts shifted, getting weapons ready for what was to come. “Looks like we’ll get some fun after all,” the female said.
“And here I thought you said you wanted the quiet life of a merchant,” her partner sassed.
“Doesn’t mean I can't enjoy this,” she chuckled.
“... Gryphons seem to love combat a little too much,” Pensword muttered to himself. “Is it a trait of their species or something from their gods?” The question helped to give his mind something else to ponder than the worry. And as he brandished Concord, he braced for the fight to come.
One of the Gryphons shrugged. “A little of one and a little of the other.”
It seemed an eternity of waiting for their enemies to break through, as they were constantly harried by the others as they worked. Given the boasts of the Gryphon Jack Harkness, it may well have been possible. It is difficult to subdue that which cannot truly die. But despite the efforts of this universal constant, eventually, the doors yielded with the ominous cracking of splintered wood as five Gryphons in cloaks forced their way through. Two of them were immediately beset by the ponies’ escorts.
Moonshade was ready, putting herself between Pensword and two of the attackers, her sword in her mouth as she swung, just clipping off the assailant as he danced away. Her eyes shrunk to slits as she growled. Pensword was too important to lose here, and she would make sure he would live to reach his future, no matter the cost. She kept the two’s attention, doing her best to dance away and trade simple blows, sacrificing minor cuts in exchange for successful tactics. Her armor kept most of the more serious blows at bay. But as in any battle, there is always one move that can mean to a warrior and victory for the opponent. Moonshade lunged for a stab, giving the impression of a feint gone awry. As her sword sunk into her opponent’s neck, fire blossomed from her right shoulder as talons raked deep into the flesh, then finally retracted and fell limp with the assassin’s death.
She winced at the pain as her second opponent struck from behind to keep up the momentum. A skilled swipe nearly took her head, slicing a part of her mane instead before she retaliated with a powerful kick to the Gryphon’s chest plate. The impact sent the assassin stumbling back on their hind paws as she lowered herself to the floor again and turned. The pain was settling in now, and on top of the burning and the warm liquid seeping down her foreleg, she felt the throb of her heartbeat slamming against the injury like a battering ram in rapid time. Slowed by her injury, she did her best to keep them on the back hoof as she kept on with several wide slashes. The Gryphon recovered their balance and locked blade to sword. Raw bulk and hungry steel struck against what the assassin knew instinctively and professionally to be a weakened defense. However, not everything in a battle goes as planned. And this holds true for both sides of combat.
The metal rang and crashed with the full force of the impact. But the much anticipated burst and skittering of shards followed by the satisfying cry of flesh and armor wrenched apart never came. The blade, though thinner than the Gryphon’s, seemed almost to glow with the mare’s defiance. Lunar steel, much like the Lunar Guard itself, does not yield so easily.
“How—?”
Moonshade didn’t give the murderer the chance to finish. Taking advantage of the momentary shock, she shifted her stance and broke the balance to slide the two blades apart and side-step the blow by a hair’s breadth as she guided it beyond the point of recovery. Then she shifted her blade point and thrust through her opponent's chestplate with all of her strength. The Gryphon shuddered, then stiffened before it collapsed, taking Moonshade’s sword with it.
While Moonshade fought in her battle, Pensword was left to face the final enemy. He held concord out in front of him as they circled, cursing himself that he hadn’t taken the time to familiarize himself with polearms. All he could do now was try to get a feel for the pitchfork and pray it would be enough, all while looking into the eyes of a beast hungry not just for prey, but for the thrill of the kill itself. Pensword did not like those eyes. And he soon found himself glaring back as heat burned in his chest. Not the cold fire of anxiety, but something hot and outraged. Like a wolf staring down a lion to protect its cubs, so now did Pensword face this enemy, knowing that should he fail, the past and the future would be lost forever.
The pitchfork was held shakily as he attempted a series of weak thrusts and swipes. The Gryphon chuckled and dodged the would-be blows with ease, then landed several minor strikes to Pensword’s side, using all the tricks of the trade to seek out the gaps to exploit. Like all cats big and small, this opponent liked to play with its food. Sometimes, the assassin would strike deliberately at the Pegasus’ armor to jostle and weaken him as red streaks became more and more apparent midst the blue of his fur, and weariness caused the Pony’s blows to come slower and less steady. Pensword’s forelegs ached from working muscles that weren’t used to the style of polearms. The fatigue of the long weapon continued to wear him down. His legs began to shake. And then the Gryphon began to laugh.
“This is the great Pensword of Mountainside Falls? This is the Commander of Equestria’s military? Pathetic,” the warrior mocked. Then his face contorted in disgust and contempt as he raised his weapon to strike the final blow. As he thrust forward, Pensword’s legs finally buckled and caved just as the gryphon’s arm extended to pass over his head, sword and all.
Pensword knew he wouldn’t have another chance. With all the strength that remained in his limbs, he seized Concord’s haft and thrust it upward with all the force he could muster. The head of the pitchfork met brief resistance, then, mingled with the remaining forward momentum generated by his opponent, the tines pierced through. The Gryphon let out a squawk of surprise, followed by a grunt, a groan, and a final sigh. The creature’s full weight fell on Pensword and Concord both. A loud crack filled the air as the wooden haft broke, taking the weapon’s head clean off as the assassin fell to the earth and slid off to the side, bleeding ever so slightly around the points of entry.
Elated though he was to have survived an attack from a creature he had never fought before, he knew better than to celebrate just yet. he forced himself to his hooves and found, to his surprise, that his legs wouldn’t stop shaking as he panted and looked to Moonshade and their two guards. “Are there,” he huffed, “any more?”
“It sounds like the fighting’s slowing down,” one of the guards noted. “I think we survived this attack!”
Pensword nodded, but something in his mind made him feel this was just a lull. The battle was not over, not yet. He shook his head. “Hope for the best, plan for the worst. Moonshade, how much longer do we have till those relief forces can get here?”
“Shouldn’t be more than five minutes.”
“Half an eternity,” Pensword muttered as he pulled the other half of Concord out of the dead Gryphon. “Now I need another weapon. Unless one of you has a repair spell or something.”
One of the Gryphons offered him a dagger.
“Thank you.” Pensword took the smaller weapon and tested it a few times, both with hooves and wings. He winced slightly as a jolt of pain struck at his left wing joint, then faded just as quickly. “Looks like I may need to be careful about flying for a bit….”
“The fact we only had four assailants must mean the others were able to deal with the rest. That, or lead them off,” Pensword mused. As the adrenaline faded, his body began to ache and throb with the taut muscles finally starting to loosen themselves again. He gazed around the room and peered at an old mirror. A few small cuts could be seen, but nothing that appeared life-threatening, at least on the outside. If anything, he felt almost numb. The occasional pinprick of muscle falling asleep would jab at his legs and flanks, but nothing too serious or extreme. He counted himself lucky in that regard. If even one movement had gone wrong, that Gryphon’s beak and teeth would have been the last things he saw.
Pensword worked his forelegs gingerly and stretched his good wing to try to work out the aches and the pinpricks, but the prickling sensation only increased. A light sense of dizziness struck as the pinpricks broke out over his scalp, and he swayed on his hooves as he shook his head. He raised a hoof to peer at some of the scratches his opponent had left behind. “Did they…?” His tongue felt thick and ungainly as he smacked his lips and tried to swallow. His jaw hung open slightly. And as another dizzy spell struck, he thought he saw a Thestral appear through the broken doors. A heavy smock stained with all manner of colors from years of use hung from her neck. She didn’t look like a guard, but maybe the call could be answered by civilians, too. Thestrals were much more suited for combat situations, anyway.
Without warning, his wing suddenly dropped to the floor. It felt like someone had weighed it down with lead balloons. “Huh. Would you look at that…?” His speech was slurred, and the room suddenly felt like it was starting to tilt. The clatter of metal barely reached his ears, more like the tinkling of a tiny bell. He didn’t even care that he’d dropped the one weapon he could use in his defense if the enemy came again.
He wasn’t quite aware of what happened after that. Things felt … strangely giddy, and he giggled as the tingling became almost pleasant. It was a game now, seeing if he could lift a leg or form a sentence. And every attempt left him feeling all the more absurd with nothing to filter this almost childlike wonder.
He laughed, and laughed, and laughed. And then, as if someone had pulled the cord on a lamp, it was dark.
Silvery light pulsed in gentle pools as glowing slitted eyes peered down at him in worry. A heavy bandage was wrapped around his wing, and a number of smaller treatments had been applied at his other wound sites. The flutter of a cape immediately brought his gaze to Moonshade, who stared at him with equal measures of relief and fury.
“What … what just happened?” he asked.
A hoof pressed against his forehead, and a pair of Thestrals in armor bearing a red cross on the breastplates nodded to one another. “I think it’s safe to say he’s past the worst of it.”
“Worst of what?”
“It seems your opponents have many concoctions at their disposal. You weren’t poisoned per se, but you were certainly incapacitated. It’s a lucky thing you didn’t have to fight more of them before we arrived. There are certain herbs and plants that, when properly refined and mixed with other substances, will create a form of drug that not only acts as an anticoagulant, but a powerful anesthetic. It’s quite possible to leave your opponent helpless, even as they die laughing at your hooves until they lose consciousness.”
Pensword shook his head. “I’m familiar with anticoagulants. Still, … that was some powerful anesthetic. I haven’t felt that way since….” He shuddered as memories of the operating room returned. The cold hard surface of the table. The glaring lights. The gowns and masks. And most of all, the worried faces he’d see on his mother and father just before getting put under. “What’s the danger of addiction to that effect?”
“There is minimal danger,” the physician assured him. “However, most hospitals use other methods to sedate patients unless a Unicorn isn’t on hand to assist, so there aren’t many documented cases to fall back on. Most Thestrals who utilized this method have emerged with little side effects. However, we may need to reconsider the merit of conducting such studies after tonight.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Pensword asked suspiciously as he narrowed his gaze.
The medic maintained a stoic expression. “Better that you see for yourself, I think. Do you feel well enough to stand up?”
“I don’t feel dizzy or nauseous, if that’s what you mean.”
“Lieutenant Colonel, if you would be so kind?” the medic said. “I will support on this side, just in case. You take the other to keep him steady in case there are after-effects.”
Moonshade nodded and moved to support the other side quickly.
Pensword huffed as he raised himself to full height. “You said those were anti-coagulants. Just how much blood did I lose?”
“Enough for us to worry for a time. We kept you under observation after we stabilized you. The Lieutenant Colonel knows how to evade the attacks that would have run deeper. By the time they landed that blow by your wing, you were pretty well anesthetized. It’s astonishing you weren’t losing more blood than you did already. The best we can theorize is your muscles seized to apply pressure at the vessels, thus reducing the outward flow enough to give us the time we needed to arrive and treat you. If it weren’t for that cramping, it’s very possible you’d be facing Faust or The Moon by now.”
“That’s … surprising. And worrying.”
“Yes,” he agreed. “Your Gryphon friends left to search for their fellows and to spread the word among the remainder of the populace.” He motioned toward a pair of guards stationed at a window while two more soldiers retrieved the curious stones that had been the source of light and placed them in closed off lamps. They made sure the structures were properly shut before the guards at the window pulled off the covering that had been placed there. Sunlight streamed in, stinging Pensword’s eyes, and he hissed in pain.
“Is light sensitivity supposed to be a symptom?”
“It’s a side effect of your condition, Commander,” the physician explained. “You’ll get used to it in time.”
“Are you saying that substance changed my vision?”
“As I said, it’s better to show you, Sir. Take your time to adjust first.”
It took two minutes before the tears stopped flowing from his eyes, leaving behind a riverbed of drying salt in his fur. “All right, what is it that I have to see for myself?”
The two led their patient to the old mirror.
“You may want to steel yourself,” Moonshade offered.
The glare made it difficult to see at first. But as they drew closer, and the angle of light shifted, Pensword was finally able to see what had left both Thestrals feeling so worried. Two glowing eyes stared back at him. A shock of silvery-white mane flowed between a pair of new tufted ears and down his back to shine against the darker navy blue his fur had taken on. His feathers had also darkened to match. Despite his loss of blood, he felt a strange sense of power building inside and pushing out as he took in the sight of two prominent fangs. Suddenly, his memory of hamburgers and other meaty dishes returned with a vengeance, and his stomach growled as saliva built in his mouth.
“So, … this is how it happened,” Pensword said slowly as he wiggled his ears and watched and felt the tufts swish through the air, the sensation alien yet strangely elating. “But I still don’t understand how it happened. Why would a paralytic and anesthetic do this?”
Moonshade was currently unable to say anything, being equally baffled as she looked him over.
Pensword offered a weak smile. “Well, I guess this means I can be welcomed on your hunts now.”
Shaking herself from her stupor, she gave a shrug. “Maybe. We’ll see if you can keep up.”
“Is it odd to say I’m looking forward to it?”
“All banter aside, once we give you the all clear, we advise you make your way back to the palace. We’ve sent a double to the hospital in your stead, so it should buy you some time to blend in with the crowds,” the medic replied. “We’d offer you an escort, but a certain officer deemed it more of a hindrance. I have to admit, she has a point, given the current situation.”
“Can I even blend in like this?” Pensword asked.
“We prepared a spare set of Lunar Guard armor for you. It should help you to escape most of the scrutiny so long as you keep to the ground and blend in with the crowds.”
“A tall order.”
“But doable,” the medic countered.
“My things?”
“We’ll make sure they’re returned to the castle safely.”
Pensword sighed. “We don’t have much choice, do we?” he asked Moonshade.
“Not really.” She shook her head. “But it’s probably for the best.”
Pensword nodded. “Then let’s get started.”
“Well, that was a total bust,” Grif said as they left the gates to the Hurricane estate. “Where do you think they went next?”
“It’s difficult to say,” Celestia noted. “If we had a personal object, I could track them that way, but without that, barring a vision, we’ll have to rely on chance for now.”
“Nothing can ever be simple.” Hammer Strike sighed. Then his ears twitched, and for just a moment, he thought he could hear a child laughing.
Grif smiled, and as he spoke, it seemed as if there were two voices instead of one. ”Where’s the fun in that?”
Hammer Strike briefly turned his focus towards Grif before turning forward once more. He hummed to himself in thought.
“You okay, Hammer Strike?” Grif asked.
“Yeah, just … thought I heard something strange,” he dismissed.
Celestia frowned. “Strange how?” she asked.
Hammer Strike would never have the chance to answer, however, as a great halloo blasted from farther down the city.
“What in the world…?” Celestia began. “That’s the call for reinforcement from the other garrisons. We haven’t had to use that call in centuries.”
“Then that’s where we need to go,” Grif said grimly.
Celestia nodded. “Get close to me,” she instructed. “I may not have exact coordinates, but I can get us closer than if we were to walk or fly.”
It wasn’t quite the same as Twilight’s teleportation. There was a bright light, but this came with a curious warmth as well that washed over their figures like immersion in a warm bath. A few moments later, they materialized in a lower section outside a garrison where guards were hastily mobilizing with weapons in hoof. Celestia gazed intently at the troops, even as they gaped at her.
“I need somepony to explain what is happening here. The rest of you, continue your efforts.” Her voice was still soft, but her expression hardened, and the tone with which she spoke brooked no argument. It wasn’t the bark of a field marshal, but it got the job done.
“Field Marshal Bright Star, Your Highness,” a Unicorn introduced himself brusquely with a salute. “The source of the trouble seems to be emanating from the Gryphon and Thestral quarters of the city. We don’t have a full grasp on the situation, but it’s clear some kind of conflict has broken out.”
“I see.” Celestia narrowed her gaze. “Thank you, Field Marshal. Return to the mobilization. Hammer Strike, Grif, and I will ascertain what we can. With any luck, we won’t have to rely on your forces.”
“Faust willing, Your Highness. Gods be with you.” He saluted and returned to the mobilization, bellowing commands and pushing the guards to move faster.
“I hope you two are ready for a fight. I hope to disperse the crowd, or at least stop it long enough to get some answers. But if I can’t….”
“We’ve been in a fight before, Celestia,” Grif said as he drew his swords. “Beam us over there.”
This time, the heat was just short of scalding, and the effects of the arrival were more widespread as the three appeared in the sky. Grif flapped his wings, and Celestia held Hammer Strike aloft in her magical grip. The scene below was bedlam as Gryphons pinned one another down, seemingly tearing each others’ plumage left and right. Talons flashed, and the clash of weapons rang mingled with the cries of troops both solar and lunar as they struggled against the wave of fury that was the Gryphon Quarter.
The Canterlot Voice burst from Celestia with as much force as the miniature corona she had manifested with their teleportation, and her mane seemed to glow with that same solar fire while the rainbow colors of the hairs flickered as a great bonfire. “WHAT IS GOING ON HERE?”
The fighting stopped at the sudden onslaught to eardrums and eyes. The Guard looked at their ruler with respect. The Gryphons looked on in, if not terror, then certainly fear. For the moment, that fear had wrested control from their ire. There was no telling how long that would last.
“I WILL HAVE NO FIGHTING IN OUR CAPITOL. NOT TODAY. SPEAK! FOR WHAT REASON HAVE YOU BROKEN THE PEACE?”
Pride was a core of Gryphon nature. And pride allowed one to break the spell. A familiar Gryphon rose, clutching a fistful of feathers. He lowered his head respectfully to Celestia in acknowledgement of the power she wielded. “Princess,” he greeted gravely. “My name is not important. You need only know that we have a mutual acquaintance in a guest called Artemis. It is a sensitive matter, and one which we clanless take personally.” He presented the feathers. “One can only assume this is Grif Grafson.” He nodded to Grif. “My family hails from your homeland, though it no longer exists as it once did so long ago. The princess trusts you. Surely, you know the significance of these, and what they mean to us.”
Grif looked intently at the feathers, his eyes darting over every feature, crevice, and follicle. On every single one, a black mark lay at the ends. No two were exactly alike, indicating not a natural coloring, but some form of dye. “... How long since the discovery?”
“Too long. We don’t know their numbers, and we don’t know their aims. But we know how to identify them.”
Grif shook his head. “They wouldn’t be stupid enough to color their wings before entering the city. What you’re doing here is a witch hunt. There is no honor in that.”
“We will not tolerate that filth being on our streets!”
“And nor will we,” Grif returned with a bleak stare. “You know full well that no ordinary target would draw their gaze. You see two of them now. We go to collect the third.” His beak hardly moved, but his voice carried clearly to Celestia. “Amplify my voice,” he whispered. Then he cleared his throat and yelled for all the quarter to hear.
“Gryphons of Equestria! Be you clanless, natural born, or exiles, I don’t care. Hear me! I am Grif, son of Graf. You know of my return, and the return of my lord and fellow servant from the Crystal empire. Our return has been verified, and doubtless word has been carried to the far shores of Gryphonia, where honorless dogs cower before our names, fearful of what havoc we yet might wreak by the mere fact of our existence against their plans and machinations! Already, they have sought my life, and they have failed. Do not aid them with fruitless strife and persecution! We have had enough of purging in the empire.
“Return to your homes, and trust in me, my lord, and Commander Pensword to deal with them. For on this day, I, Grif Grafson issue a challenge to all Blacktips within Canterlot. Come for me. Come for my lord. Come for Pensword, if you dare. But know that the moment you do, your lives will be forfeit, and we will wring the names of the cowards who brought you forth from exile from your beaks before I send you off to face the judgment of the Winds.
“Justice will be done, but it will not be served through bedlam and baseless accusation. Again, I urge you, return to your roosts, your homes, and your business. Do not give them the chaos they desire to more easily pass through the city undetected. My brothers, my sisters, my fellow Children of the Winds, rest assured that the race is not yet over, and the reason of the East Wind must prevail. Then, and only then, will the North have its say, and I will rain vengeance and justice with my lord upon all those who dare to do him and our home harm. You have my word. And you know that I will never break it. What say you?”
The crowd murmured under the watchful gaze of Grif, Hammer Strike, and Celestia. At last, the Gryphon who brought the feathers in the first place sighed. “All right. I’ll bring my people with me. But I can’t speak for the rest of the clanless.”
“That will be enough. The rest who want to start something will have to deal with me and Hammer Strike. And anyone who tries to rile up the rest could easily become a prime suspect. I won’t hesitate to kill them if that’s what it takes.”
A rustling passed through the streets, as if a breeze had played with their feathers. Surely these hardened warriors couldn’t be shaking. They would never do such a thing. That would be cowardice.
But whether reason or cowardice, the crowd did start to disperse, and the trio settled slowly to the ground as guards streamed in to expedite the process.
Grif let out an explosive breath as he let the role of the warrior fade to return to his normal self. “Well, that just happened.”
Celestia frowned. “This is serious, Grif. Black Tips are outlawed in Equestria and Gryphonia both. They’re among the best of the best. You shouldn’t drop your guard. And you definitely shouldn’t be putting a sign on your back.”
Grif shrugged. “I already have a sign on my back. So does Hammer Strike, and so does Pensword. What matters is how we use that to our advantage. And the sooner we find Pensword, the sooner we can do that.”
“Think he’s on his way back to the castle, or heading towards this incident?” Hammer Strike pondered.
“Has he ever let someone in trouble go without trying to help?” Grif shot back.
“How far out do you think he might be from here?”
“Knowing him, he’ll probably be galloping up here in the next few seconds, unless he’s been attacked. Then he’ll probably still be coming, just more cautiously.”
“Leaning towards been attacked. It’d line things up.” Hammer Strike frowned in thought.
“And it sounds about right for all the chaos we usually have to deal with,” Grif added. “Seriously, Sun Butt, you need to look into that. Things are happening way too much lately. I know I cursed you, but I didn't think it’d be this bad.”
“You could always take it back, Grif,” Celestia returned with a playful smile.
“Please. I’ve faced loads worse than this.”
“What’s everyone talking about?” True to their predictions, Pensword approached with Moonshade supporting him. A red bandage close to one of his wings indicated the location of the cut that had nearly cost him that appendage, and the dark armor of the Lunar Guard gave him an entirely different appearance when paired with his recent changes.
“If it weren’t for your voice and mark, I’d question the appearance shift,” Hammer Strike remarked, looking over Pensword. “Good to see you’ve already got some treatment. How are you feeling?”
“Upset and … more than a little confused,” Pensword admitted. “But we’re alive. What happened here?”
Hammer Strike looked to Celestia and Grif before returning his focus. “A lot, honestly.”
“So we heard,” Moonshade noted. “That was a good speech, Grif. But I can’t say I’m surprised after being with you for so long.”
Grif shrugged. “What can I say? Drama just comes naturally for me.”
Pensword sighed. “We had to kill them. There were five in total. We had help from some locals. Two took two of them. I was able to take one. Moonshade took the other two. She called them Black Tips.”
“Yes, we were just made aware of the situation ourselves. It seems that at least one of them was caught by one of the Gryphons here in the quarter. The … disturbance that drew you here was a result of that discovery. Many Gryphons in Equestria have strong feelings against that particular group of assassins,” Celestia said.
“Last I checked, murderous intent was more than just a feeling,” Grif pointed out.
“I think they surpassed intent at that point,” Hammer Strike noted.
“Point,” Grif conceded.
“Am I correct in assuming this has something to do with what we do in the war?” Pensword asked.
“Give the Pony a prize,” Grif replied.
“Grif may have also mortally offended four ambassadors from the Gryphon kingdoms in the empire while simultaneously putting the fear of Faust into them. Or The Winds, I suppose, since those are the deities they worship,” Celestia noted.
“You flatter me, Princess,” Grif returned.
“So we should expect more assassination attempts. Great….”
“Just be glad it’s only us they’re targeting,” Grif said.
“Moonshade wasn’t just us,” Pensword returned with some heat.
“Moonshade can also take care of herself. Unlike most of the guard, she’s a competent warrior, not a glorified civilian.”
“Is that supposed to make it better?”
“Would you rather she wasn’t?”
“I think your point has been made, Grif. I can defend myself without your help,” Moonshade said. “It would be more productive to plan for the next attack, not squabble over who may or may not be at fault for something that was inevitable in the first place.”
Pensword sighed and reined his frustrations in with visible effort. “All right. Moonshade has a point. Have we all been attacked at this point?”
“Nope,” Hammer Strike spoke up. “They’ll likely come for me next.”
“Then we need to plan to capture them alive, make them talk,” Pensword insisted. “Then we can end this all in one swoop.”
“Part of me feels like they’re prepared to die in some capacity when they come for us.” Hammer Strike frowned in thought.
“Most assassins are. At least of the Gryphon variety,” Grif said. “They’d rather die than betray their contracts.”
“So what do we do, then?” Pensword asked.
“Go about things as usual.” Hammer Strike shrugged. “They’ll come for me when I’m open and not in a group.”
“And then?”
Grif smirked. “The oldest strategy of videogame lore.” The smirk shifted to a cheeky grin. For some reason, a Spanish guitar started playing in the background as the Gryphon spoke in an accent that was not his own. “Group up, and hit it till it dies!”
Somewhere in the distance, the enthusiastic cry of Bulk Biceps carried through the air as he finished his workout. “YEAH!”
Pensword facehoofed.
Hammer Strike yawned as he strode through town. His meeting with Fancy Pants was finally coming up, and so he decided to wander in the general direction of the lord’s estate. Unlike the battle with Baron Blueblood’s allies, this would be a meeting with Ponies he knew he could trust. That was a rare thing to find in the murk that was palace politics.
He passed by stores and restaurants, taking in the sights of Canterlot and committing them to memory once more, this time from the perspective of all fours, rather than the bipedal motion of a human.
That pleasant sensation of casual enjoyment and anticipation endured for all of about five minutes, right until he rounded a corner that took him through a less traveled thoroughfare. The side street was empty, the buildings close enough together to deprive it of the afternoon light. It practically screamed ambush. And the growing sense of unease and watching only confirmed his suspicions. The unwelcoming nature of the path didn’t discourage him, however, and he pressed on, knowing what was to come.
After all, this was what he wanted, was it not?
For anyone else, the blade may have gone unnoticed until it dug into the wall. However, Hammer Strike was not anyone else. He picked up the sound just a few moments before the blade made impact, and moved his head to the side, his heightened perception allowing him to see the blade fly close enough to clip some hairs off his muzzle. In the time most people would be just figuring out what had happened, Hammer Strike was eyeing the blade in the wall and mentally tracing its path back the way it came.
As he looked to the entrance to the alley, five cloaked Gryphons encroached, accompanied by the sound of grating metal as each produced a large two-handed sword. Although the blades weren’t large enough for Hammer Strike to call them true greatswords, they were formidable in their own right.
“Looks like I wandered into an odd neighborhood.” Hammer Strike hummed. “Well, come on then. I know there’s more than five of you.”
Without a word, two of the would-be assassins charged him, the first going higher and aiming for the Pony’s upper body and head while the second attempted a swipe for his legs in the opposite direction of their partner’s sword. If successful, the scissoring maneuver would cut him in triplicate.
Hammer Strike, however, was not most opponents. In the short period between the twin lunges and their interception, he analyzed the situation and acted accordingly. He pulled his sword out and held it forward vertically before chopping the center. The scissor blades found themselves blocked as the greatsword met both of the enemies’ swords near the hilt. The Gryphons staggered briefly, but were able to just maneuver out of the way of Hammer Strike’s returning blow. Had it struck, the two would have dropped their swords from the recoil of sheer brute force.
The assassins spread out, both going for a simultaneous thrust. Hammer Strike danced back to avoid. However, he was not fighting only two opponents. A third Gryphon had positioned himself during the fight and struck at his flank, damaging his coat and leaving a painful but shallow cut near his cutie mark.
Hammer Strike growled in frustration. “I just got that stitched from last time.”
Hammer strike whirled on the third and attacked with a single fluid swing. The assailant expectedly brought his blade up to block. But to his shock and Hammer Strike’s surprise, when the greatsword made contact, there was no resistance. The blade sheared through the Gryphon’s sword, and then his neck. A second later, the shocked head fell to the ground. As Hammer strike turned to the group, the air around his blade roiled from the intense heat of the suddenly glowing orange weapon.
“Useful,” he muttered.
The Gryphons charged him, letting out a cry somewhere between a war cry and a mournful wail. The rest of the fight took moments, though it may have seemed longer to the combatants. Hammer Strike alone stood as the final Gryphon slumped to the ground, its armor little more than slag. The slight scent of cooked meat and the acrid smell of melting metal filled the alley. He had only a moment to observe the black-tipped feathers that showed beneath the cloak of his last opponent before more Gryphons appeared at the alley entrance.
At the same time, he gave a sharp and abrupt flick to his sword in a habitual attempt to clear it of blood.
Only … none stuck to the heated blade.
Hammer Strike sighed. “You’re all gonna make me late for my meeting.”
Hammer Strike stood amongst the carnage, panting, though not heavily. The blade cooled slowly in his hooves as his temper began to ease. Battered, decapitated, disemboweled or in one case eviscerated bodies of his would-be-assassins had been strewn all around the alley and square, marking the path the battle had taken. The good coat Rarity had gone through so much trouble to repair for Hammer Strike was stained red with a good deal of blood, a mixture of his own and the Gryphons’. Cuts and bruises covered his body, though only two or three of them seemed to be deep, including a set of three scratches on his front where one Gryphon had attempted to claw him desperately as the Pony prepared the finishing blow. That was the currently eviscerated Gryphon. One Gryphon lay not too far off, purposefully left alive, though death probably would have been a mercy at this point. His right hand was gone, as were his wings. His left hand was devoid of talons. Nineteen Gryphon corpses dotted the surrounding area. This last one would be left alive for questioning. The only thing that could be seen that was undamaged and not bloodstained was Hammer Strike’s sword itself.
“Now.” Hammer Strike took a small breath. “Now,” he repeated, directing his attention to the survivor. “You and I, … are going to have a little talk.” He exhaled, making his way over. “That is, if you don’t want me to prolong things. We’ll even start simple. Got a name?””
With what little movement he could manage before shock stole his faculties, the Gryphon curdled in the back of his throat and spat at the approaching equine. He missed his mark.
Hammer Strike took a moment before shrugging. “All right then, Nameless, we’re going the hard way.” He approached the assassin and hovered his sword over one of the Gryphon’s wounds. “My blade’s still hot, so I can make this much worse. I’m not above doing what I must for information. If you won’t say yours, how about who sent you? You’re dead either way.”
“Then I shouldn’t tell you anything, should I?”
“True, you could say nothing.” Hammer Strike shrugged once more. “However,” he proceeded to press the heated blade into the Gryphon’s wound. “I learned how to make things quite regrettable. Do you think they’ll keep you alive longer than I would?”
The assassin ground his teeth together and groaned intermittently, but he refused to give the satisfaction of a scream. “Do you,” he huffed, “really think I wasn’t prepared for torture?”
“You’re prepared for torture of another Gryphon, maybe of some of the guard here.” Hammer Strike lifted the blade. “Were you prepared for me to do it personally? Your kind, especially, should know exactly what I’m capable of.”
It was one of the oldest problems in the world, the problem of mutually assured destruction. However, in this case, it was not a matter of one enemy defeating or destroying the other and themselves, but rather which enemy would destroy the Gryphon first. And as Hammer Strike said, which could do worse. Worse still, that damned Pony had managed to knock out his failsafe. The hollowed tooth lay a few feet away among the remains of his comrades. “Damn it,” he swore, then cried out as Hammer Strike twisted the knife. The searing increased, and the scent of cooking meat and scorching feathers began to carry on the air. “Fine!” he snarled. ““We were hired by a patsy, knowing the targets probably came all the way from King Grask Bloodbeak himself.” The Gryphon spat again as the blood continued to congeal in his mouth. “We were paid five hundred gold beaks up front, and promised a shipload more when the job was done.”
Hammer Strike hummed as he removed the blade once more. “All three of us?”
“Five hundred for the Pegasus, a shipload for you. The traitor is worth a king's ransom if he’s brought in alive. We planned to sell to the highest bidder if anyone managed the feat.”
“Fair enough, I suppose. How many more will be sent to their graves before the point is made?”
“You know the tenacity of our people better than most. It will take what it will take. Numbers are meaningless when it comes to killing you.”
“Yeah, that sounds about right.” Hammer Strike sighed. “I think I got most of what I wanted. Name?” He questioned once more, lifting the blade out of the Gryphon’s sight.
“... Why?”
“Because I’m giving you more honor than you should expect from me.”
“Where is the honor in failure?”
“There is honor in facing me and lasting the longest of your compatriots.” Hammer Strike sighed. “You know my legend, and not many of the ones I face are remembered. You will be.”
“Why would you do this for me?”
“You’re prolonging things with questions yourself now,” Hammer Strike noted.
“... True,” the Gryphon agreed. “And it seems I am close to the end even now.” He seemed to be having trouble keeping his eyes open. “I am called, … was called Argos Rainfeather.”
“Then, Argos, I hope the afterlife is everything you deserve. May your Winds grant you peace.” Hammer Strike finished, and in one abrupt movement, cut clean through the Gryphon’s neck. He took a moment to breathe before flicking his blade to the side, noting how it was finally cool, and sheathed it.
He sighed audibly and rolled one of his shoulders to release the tension that had been built. “If you’re done watching, the threat has been handled,” he called out.
Two lunar guards emerged seemingly from nowhere as they approached the pony from the darker shadows of the alleyway. “You knew we were there?” one of them asked.
“I can tell when Luna is hiding in a shadow. Do you think standing in the shade would make things harder?” Hammer Strike raised a brow.
“Considering the number of Gryphons you were able to dispatch yourself, it’s no surprise that you would be so capable,” the other Thestral replied. “Are you well? These assassins often use poison or venom to ensure their victims’ demise.”
“Beyond the feelings of being cut and stabbed at, I feel fine. A quick patch for my open wounds should be enough.” Hammer Strike removed his coat and folded it up. “I don’t feel slowed, weakened, or otherwise disposed. Though I do feel a little annoyed at having likely missed my meeting with Fancy Pants.” His dress shirt was surprisingly in good shape, though stained faintly in small patches of blood.
“There may still be time, but it might be wiser to reschedule. Most nobles prefer not to see clothing soaked in the blood of enemies. If you prefer to go still, we can arrange to have one of your coats delivered within the next five minutes, along with a medic to do that ‘quick patch’ you mentioned.”
Hammer Strike hummed in thought before shrugging. “Eh, why not? I should have a couple spare coats in my room.”
The soldiers nodded, and the matter was seen to, true to the Thestrals’ words. Within the next five minutes, a detachment of guards had arrived with the medic and coat. And true to the stereotype of a good doctor, the medic wouldn’t back down, even to Hammer Strike. “Hold still. I’m running a tox screen on you.” The medic’s horn glowed scarlet as it ran over hammer Strike’s body. First her face went pale. Then it flushed red as she ran through the spell a second time. Then it grew even paler. “How are you even standing right now?”
Hammer Strike raised a brow. “I mean, they didn’t really cut at my legs—” He cut himself off as he looked to the several cuts that covered his legs. “Nevermind, they did.”
“I’m not talking about cuts. I’m talking about toxicity! There’s enough manticore venom in your bloodstream to fell a fully grown Minotaur!”
“Really?” Hammer Strike looked at his legs, followed by his torso, before shrugging. “I don’t feel it. In fact, I feel about as I usually do, apart from the cuts and stab wounds. Though, that’s strangely become more normal.”
The medic sighed. “I’m told that most magic won’t work on you without sufficient trust and permission, so we’ll have to do this the other way. But I highly recommend seeing the princesses or going to a hospital for a proper detox.”
“So long as I’m fine, I’ll head to Celestia after my meeting. Though, to alleviate any potential things that may be said, if things become worse, I’ll send word to her.” Hammer Strike turned his attention to the guards that arrived. “Any info on the bodies?”
“Preliminary investigation indicates these were elite ranked Black Tips. Each of them was branded with a raven where their feathers met their fur. They knew nothing less could have a chance of killing you,” one of the guards replied.
“Elites?” Hammer Strike hummed. “What would you rank them under for how dangerous they are?”
They’re among one of the most notorious branches of the Black Tips. It’s been said that a small party of them managed to sneak into a Dragon’s cave and kill it before it could even sense their presence. They’re shunned by most Equestrians, but even known assassins acknowledge their skill.”
Hammer Strike frowned in thought. “Admittedly, while they were skilled, there were still a number of flaws in their methods. Though, I also stopped keeping track after the thirteenth one.”
“You’ve just spat in their faces, Sir. They may stop to reassess for a time, but I wouldn’t be surprised if these assassins go after you specifically in their next attempt. After what you did to their bodies….”
“To come for my life, or the life of those near me, is to be prepared to die,” he stated bluntly. “By any means I have at hoof.”
“We don’t doubt it, Sir. Now that your more serious injuries have been tended to, would you like an escort to your next destination?” the Thestral asked as he proffered the black variant of Hammer Strike’s coat that had been packed as a spare.
“I should be fine. Fancy Pants’ estate isn’t too far from here,” Hammer Strike replied as he changed into the new coat and swapped the contents of the pockets. “Good choice on picking black, by the way. Would you mind delivering this one back to my room?” he asked, holding up his bloodied blue coat. “I apologize for the errand work.”
“It will be done,” he promised. “Though I can’t guarantee what might happen should your companions see it. History tells us that they are … very protective of you.”
“Yeah, they certainly can be.” Hammer Strike chuckled as he rolled his shoulders. “Potentially as protective as I am of them.”
“Do you have any messages you might wish us to give them if we do run into them?”
Hammer Strike hummed. “If it comes to it, tell them, ‘Try not to overstress yourselves. I’ll be fine.’”
The guard nodded. “We’ll make sure to give them the message.”
“Thank you,” he said, giving his neck a quick pop. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a meeting with one of the rare nobles I can not only tolerate, but consider a friend.” He paused. “If any of you have questions about the details of this little scuffle, I’ll be back to my room by five.”
The parlor in the Fancy Pants estate was what one might expect from a well-to-do noble with so many contacts throughout the kingdom. It was ornately decorated in mild shades of cream and pink modeled after the Phrench influences Fleur carried with her. Although the style of the room’s design leaned more toward fru-fru, it was not the overwhelming eyesore that many other nobles seemed to take pleasure in creating at their own manors. And, given enough thought, Hammer Strike reasoned that those other rooms were probably like that with the specific intent of trying to match or somehow supercede the atmosphere that Fancy Pants and his wife seemed to create so easily here.
Fancy Pants smiled in welcome as he rose to greet his guest. “Hammer Strike. So good of you to come. I was worried we were going to have to reschedule. I trust everything is all right at the castle? Fleur tells me there was quite the scuffle in the Gryphon quarter of the city.”
“It was certainly a sight,” Hammer Strike agreed. “But ultimately not the real reason for my late arrival. Apologies for the delay. I was held back by some … important matters, you could say.”
Fancy Pants nodded. “Say no more. A Pony knows when to pry and when to let a friend keep their counsel. Please, take a seat. A dining hall is hardly the place for an intimate meal, so I took the liberty of having something set up here instead.” He turned to face a coffee table and gestured with his horn. In a matter of moments, it transfigured into an ornately carved wooden table complete with solar and lunar motifs. The old yin and yang symbol that represented the two sisters sat clearly in the table’s center, rimmed in gold with what appeared to be a chain attached to it. “Apologies for the gaudy display, but that’s what happens when I pair magic with my special talent.” He sighed. “Fancy is sadly more than a name in this case.”
“It’s all right.” Hammer Strike gave a small smile.
“I’m glad you understand. If it weren’t for my Fleur, I’d be absolutely miserable surrounded by all this frippery. May I offer you something to drink while we wait for the meal?”
“Just water is fine.”
Fancy Pants smiled and nodded as a beautiful white Unicorn with a pink mane striped by a lighter shade of the same color approached, levitating a pitcher.
“I had a feeling you might say that,” the mare said with a knowing smile. Her Phrench accent was strong, but her Equish was well enunciated and easily understood.
“Hammer Strike, allow me to introduce my wife and the love of my life, the beautiful Fleur de Lis.”
Fleur offered a graceful curtsy. “Charmed,” she returned.
“A pleasure to meet you,” Hammer Strike returned with a low nod.
She gestured to the table as she levitated a glass and poured for the guest. “Our dinner will be more simple, but no less flavorful than what one might expect. While we trust our staff, there are many who are still in awe of the legendary Hammer Strike.”
“Pair that with the disturbances earlier today and we decided it would be best to send most of them home,” Fancy Pants finished. “Most of them have families of their own to take care of, so there weren’t many complaints.”
“That’s perfectly all right.” Hammer Strike gave a brief dismissive wave. “I prefer a simple meal with simple plans. It’s a calm aspect of life that I’ve lost, that I used to enjoy.”
“Oh?” Fleur asked, intrigued as a chef wheeled in a salad bowl for the trio. “Are you a gourmand as well, then?” she asked curiously.
“Though I don’t have much of an appetite, I suppose you could say so.”
“I hope you’ll pardon the impertinence here, but a strapping stallion like you having no appetite?” Fancy Pants shook his head. “I find that difficult to accept.”
“Though some may find it surprising, it’s surprisingly true. Throughout my life, I haven’t had too much of an appetite. I eat enough to keep myself from being hungry, and that’s just fine by me.”
“There are a number of Ponies who would probably envy you. And others who might pity you with that statement,” Fancy Pants mused as he served the salad. “But on to other matters. I’m certain the princesses have given you many resources already, but is there anything you might be lacking that Fleur and I might be able to assist you with?”
Hammer Strike shook his head. “Pleasant company is already more than I’ve been provided elsewhere.” He chuckled, and for a brief moment his brows furrowed as he noted a small stinging sensation along the right side of his chest.
“And Ponyville is treating you well, I trust?”
“Very well. More so than I expected.”
“If they are at all like your fiance, then that is very understandable,” Fleur returned with a playful smile. “I trust she has matured a great deal since our last encounter.”
“She is quite the gem.” Hammer Strike smiled.
“It takes a rare eye to see that. But you have always been one known for your quality. A word of advice. Do not let her go. After meeting you here, I can tell that you two are well suited to one another.”
Hammer Strike chuckled. “I suppose we’ll see how the future holds us.”
“Arcana, rummy, or poker?” the mare asked.
“Not my choice, is it?” Hammer Strike smirked in response.
“Oh, there is always a choice, Hammer Strike. The question is whether we are willing to face the consequences.” Her eyes twinkled with mirth and mischief as she took another bite of her salad.
“Speaking of consequences,” Fancy Pants added, “word is that your friend Grif has offended some powerful individuals recently. I hope you haven’t had to face any unpleasantness as a result.”
“Only recently? His presence alone typically brings it. Though, the same can be said for Pensword and myself.”
Fancy Pants raised a brow. “Really? You seem more like one who knows how to exercise proper restraint.”
“Our presence is unpleasant to certain groups that still exist to this day.” Hammer Strike sighed. “Our history follows, no matter how far from it we are.”
“That often is the case for one who carries such a legacy. Even the heirs to a legacy can’t escape those kinds of conflicts if the actions are cruel enough. Though by all historical accounts, yours were justified.”
“It doesn’t mean all see it that way.”
“True. True.” Fancy Pants nodded as he sipped from a teacup, then peered more closely at his guest. “I say, were you perhaps carrying some ink with you, Hammer Strike?”
Hammer Strike frowned and looked down at his coat. While he was wearing his black one, it couldn’t stop the notable amount of fluid starting to appear on his white shirt. He sighed, realizing that the twinge he felt earlier was one of the wounds reopening. “I may have to cut my visit short, Fancy Pants.”
Surprisingly enough, it was Fleur who laid a hoof on Hammer Strike’s shoulder with more force than he had expected as she pulled his coat aside to reveal the sticky patch. “Not like this, mon ami,” she said in her heavy accent.
“Good Faust!” Fancy Pants swore.
“I’m certain she appreciates the prayers, dear, but I believe what Hammer Strike requires now is treatment. I will dress the wound as best I can. Could you call the doctors from the hospital?”
Fancy Pants leapt to his hooves. “At once!” he agreed. He burst out the door, galloping as fast as his hooves would carry him.
Fleur smiled as her horn glowed. Moments later, a first aid kit appeared in front of her. “Always leaping to help others with such natural flair. It is no wonder I fell in love with him.” She opened the case to reveal, not the usual fare, but a number of vials, syringes, and other more advanced medical supplies than one might expect to find in the typical first aid kit. “Now, tell me what happened while I disinfect the site.”
“Just some Black Tips, though the Manticore Venom is quite annoying,” Hammer Strike replied. “Celestia can give me a detox later on, though. And given its less than effective progress, I’m not troubled by it.”
“A potent and painful poison, indeed,” Fleur agreed as she prepared a needle and filled it with fluid from a vial. “It acts quickly to force the victim’s muscles to seize all at once. Taken in large enough doses, it can lead to severe damage by breaking the subject’s bones through muscle strain alone. Most subjects endure terrible pain before they suffocate. It must have been a minor dosage for you to move so freely, and with minimal pain.” She stuck the needle into the wound and depressed the plunger. “That should help to counter the venom’s effects.” She retracted the needle and proceeded to remove gauze and other sterile bandage materials to treat the wound. “I have encountered their kind before. I am not surprised they were hired to deal with you, but you must be more careful.”
“It’s just another day in my life.” Hammer Strike gave a brief chuckle. “At least you’re not so startled as the medic was when they scanned my blood. Makes me wonder what stories you must have.”
“Startled?” she asked. “Was there something wrong?”
Hammer Strike raised a brow. “That’s not my only wound. It’s just the only one that reopened.”
“Ma déesse,” she muttered under her breath. “Dare I ask?”
Hammer Strike gave a faint shrug as to not agitate her work. “It’s only enough to take down a Minotaur.”
“... Qoi?”
Hammer Strike raised a brow once more.
Fleur met that stare with perfect calm as she analyzed him. Finally, she spoke. “You are not joking, are you?”
“I mean, it’s probably spread more evenly now, since it was half an hour ago.”
Fleur shook her head in exasperation. “Then I have but used a bandage to stem a flood. By all rights, you should not be alive.”
“Correct.”
“Then it would appear the legend is true. Even Death fears the mighty lord, and will not take him until he himself consents.”
“He’s certainly tried. I’ll give him that.” Hammer Strike chuckled.
“Then I suppose all that remains is to tend to the wound itself for now. I can only spare so much antivenom, and I don’t have nearly enough to treat you.”
“I’ll get detoxed by Celestia later, so no need to worry. I’m just sorry for all the blood I’m going to leave around here.”
“Don’t worry. No lady worth her salt does not know how to treat blood stains. And I am most certainly a lady of many talents.” She smiled playfully.
Hammer Strike gave a faint laugh. “So I see; so I see.”
There was a bright flash of light, followed by the arrival of a flushed Fancy Pants and a whole squad of medics loaded to the brim with supplies. “We’re back! And I brought help!”
Fleur smiled apologetically. “That’s my husband; always fancy.”
“So, feeling better?” Grif asked pensword as they made their way back from the palace infirmary.
“Yes and no,” Pensword admitted. “Physically, I’m all right. The rest….” He started to shrug with his wings, then winced as his body reminded him of the recent battle. “I don’t think anyone ever really gets used to someone trying to kill them.”
“I mean, according to the history books? This is quite light, especially for Gryphons.” Grif shrugged.
“How are you taking this so casually?”
“This was inevitable?” Grif shrugged. “I mean, between what we’ve done and what history says about us? Kinda surprised it took this long.”
“... I don’t know whether to look forward to or fear developing that kind of outlook.”
“He has a point,” Moonshade noted. “We need to think about the ripples your returning presence makes.”
Pensword sighed. “I suppose you’re right. It’s only a matter of time before we come to match our ‘past’ selves anyway. I just wonder whether it’ll happen here or after we go back.”
“Probably after.” Grif shrugged. “It is a war. They tend to change people.”
“I suppose that’s true. It’s a pity it has to happen, though. Or … I guess had to happen?” He groaned and shook his head. “I hate time travel.”
“I mean, from what I understand, we accomplished a lot of good from it, including assuring the Gryphons won’t attack again.”
“Until now, at any rate,” Pensword grumbled.
“This wasn’t a true attack; at least not anything that could be solidly tracked.” Grif shook his head.
“A warning shot, then?”
Grif shook his head again. “Not with Hammer Strike around. The government likely had nothing to do with this attack. And the noble who did won’t be traceable back to them. Policy-wise, Black Tips are illegal in Gryphonia. Assassination is dishonorable and cowardly, usually only saved for those who have sullied their honor beyond all hope of salvage.”
“So what now? Are we just supposed to wait for the next wave?”
“Now we go on our guard, but it’s unlikely for them to attack again for a while.”
Pensword frowned. “Grif, … is it possible to hallucinate after a battle?”
“Sometimes. It is a lot of adrenaline. Why?”
“I saw someone when I was being treated, a Thestral mare. But nobody else seemed to notice her. Moonshade couldn’t even see her. I didn’t know her, but … there was something about her eyes, her smile. It was like … like she knew me. She looked tired, but … happy.”
“Perhaps a lingering memory from Pensword’s own past?”
“But how can I remember a past I haven’t even lived yet?”
Grif looked ahead. “I knew my attacker was there, back at Donut Joe’s. I ambushed him. I took him out before he realized I knew he was there. It was disturbing, and exhilarating,” he admitted with a shiver. “I think when we get back, I’m going to shift back for a while. I think I'm adjusting too well.”
“So, what, you’re saying that we can somehow get the instincts and memories of a self that has yet to be forged?”
Grif nodded. “Like something was guiding me.”
“Perhaps something was,” Moonshade said. “The Gryphons have gods that they worship, too.”
“Perhaps, but I haven’t met them yet, let alone worshiped them,” Grif said. “Why would they want to start favoring me?”
“You’re asking me to guess the mind of a god?”
“If someone starts doing random favors for you without any apparent reason, there’s usually a string that’s going to be attached somewhere. Call me cynical, but that’s been my experience. So the idea that a god or gods might be helping me now without any action on my part is at once intriguing and absolutely terrifying.”
“Heavy talk like that makes me think we could use a vacation,” Pensword said, then sighed.
“Maybe the Daoi Islands off the coast of Down Unda?” Moonshade suggested.
“Down Unda?” Pensword asked before trying his best to pronounce the new words. “Do-aye?” A grin slowly dawned across his muzzle. “Sounds like an interesting place.” Any further discussion was cut off as they noticed a guard darting down the hallway carrying something in his magic in front of him. All three companions stiffened. “Grif, … that looked like Hammer Strike’s jacket.”
Grif was already moving. “Not looked like. That was Hammer Strike’s jacket.”
“The smell … was that blood?” Pensword asked.
Grif didn’t bother to answer the query. “Follow me.” The order was curt and direct. There was no time to be his friendly self. His eyes darkened to the cold blue of a glacier hidden deep beneath the sea. The Gryphon followed the scent with the efficiency of a great hunter, and the trio wound their way through the halls accordingly. “I smelled two scents on that coat. The one was Hammer Strike. The other belonged to someone or something else. Best guess, a Gryphon, or multiple Gryphons.”
“Is he all right?”
“He’d better be,” Grif growled as his talons clacked loudly over the floor. “Or those Black Tips are going to wish they’d never been born.”
The scent led Grif toward the infirmary’s entrance. One order was enough for the orderly to inform him of the facts. “Lord Fancy Pants put out the alert at the hospital. Since Lord Hammer Strike is a higher noble, one of our master healers was deployed immediately after we received the alert. He should be receiving treatment right now.”
Grif swore. “Let’s go.”
The three took to the air immediately. Those who may have sought to stop them were quickly brought up short when they saw Moonshade’s cape. It was evident they were on urgent business of a military nature.
“Grif, isn’t this dangerous?” Pensword asked. “We’re wide open to attack.”
Grif shook his head as they continued along their way. “After what happened in the Gryphon quarter, Celestia ordered a flight ban on all save military personnel. The minute anyone tries to attack us, they’ll be swarmed by the rest of the guards on patrol.”
The trio flew unmolested, as Grif had predicted. It didn’t take them long to see the scene where the fight had broken out. The alleyway was cordoned off, and there were clear signs of burn marks, molten stone, and blood. Lots and lots of blood.
Grif gave a low whistle at the pile of bodies. “Someone was busy.”
“We can find out just how busy when we catch up with him,” Pensword said. “Come on. The estate’s just over there.”
The increased presence of guards was a dead giveaway, as were the ambulance carts that were lying in wait for any potential emergency response. It was a simple matter to verify their identities as Hammer Strike’s proxies. They stormed toward the manor doors just as they swung open to reveal the familiar blank-faced expression of their friend. Hammer Strike was covered in bandages and gauze pads in various locations on his body. And for the moment, his coat hung over his back, exposing the many cuts and blood stains that had seeped through his shirt and cravat.
“...Sup?” Hammer Strike asked.
“Just Sup? That’s all we’re going to get?” Pensword asked as he gaped at the Pony. “You look like you got in a fight with a wood chipper!”
“Given there were twenty of them, I suppose I can agree with that visual.” Hammer Strike nodded.
“Twenty!” Pensword facehoofed. “We need to get you out of Canterlot.”
Hammer Strike gave a shrug. “They plan on following for some time, so I don’t exactly see it stopping on leaving Canterlot. Though, it may stop for a little bit, given the number of elites they lost. Depending on if there are any more in the city, of course.”
“How are you even standing right now?” Grif asked, genuinely curious as he stared at the colt.
“I’m not that injured.” Hammer Strike defended briefly before thinking it over. “Well, I am technically, but the toxins aren’t that potent.”
“Toxins?” Moonshade pressed.
A particularly stern-faced medic scowled, approaching the stallion from behind. “Enough manticore venom to put down a Minotaur. By all rights, he should be dead by now. Which is why we are taking him to receive treatment as soon as possible. He insists only Princess Celestia will be able to help him. Our efforts have proven that much to be true. If you want to ride with him, that’s fine, but I insist we get underway immediately.”
Pensword’s eye twitched. “A full grown Minotaur?” Then he groaned. “Sweet Celestia.”
“Hey, count your blessings. At least we don’t have to carry him this time,” Grif pointed out. “No offense, m’lord, but you are very heavy.”
“I’m deeply offended,” Hammer Strike remarked flatly. “Anyways, shall we head to Celestia to purge this stuff out of my blood?”
“The sooner, the better,” Moonshade agreed. “But not in a medical wagon. It’s too visible and too obvious. We need at least three unmarked carriages.”
“I have taken the liberty of calling five,” Fleur said as she joined the conversation seemingly from out of thin air. “We have a number in our employ for just such occasions. And—” She raised her horn, and the world was filled with light. “—We must have the proper doubles to make it more interesting, non?” The gathered Ponies and Gryphon gaped at the sudden sight of five exact copies of the party. “One will stay here with me, and the other five will travel their separate ways to ensure the safety of all. It will be more difficult for them to attack you in force this way, will it not?”
“Should work out.” Hammer Strike nodded, even as his duplicates spoke in almost perfect unison with him.
“Weird,” the Grifs all said. “But clever.” They all smirked. “And cool.”
The coaches were soon in place, and the pullers looked with almost military attention at Fleur. “The destination is Canterlot Palace. You each know the way. Make sure they arrive safely.” There was no direct indication which carriage was which. All five doors opened. All five sets of the party entered, and one set remained behind. Fleur then looked at a detachment of guards and gestured toward each of the vehicles. Six were assigned per carriage. Two Earth Ponies, two Pegasi, and two Unicorns. “Good luck.” She was careful not to allow her gaze to linger on any of the copies for any particular length of time, paying equal attention to all of them before looking to the ones next to her. “Now then, my friends, shall we go inside?”
As the mare passed into the manor and the flaps on the carriage windows all were closed, Grif couldn’t help but let out an extremely soft whistle. “She’s good.”
“She certainly is.” Hammer Strike chuckled.
The journey seemed interminable as the cart drivers walked at a regular pace, neither too fast nor too slow, but a rhythmic trot that would be expected of Ponies on business. Occasionally, the murmur of crowds or passing Ponies could be heard before dying away again, leaving just the motion of the wheels along the streets and the subtle rattle of the frame creaking as it swayed.
“I know this is for our safety, but the apprehension is torture. Not knowing where we are, how close we are to the castle, whether we’ll be attacked or not. There has to be a way we can check without alerting any tails,” Pensword said.
“Only way we’re opening those flaps is if Hammer Strike gives permission,” Grif said. “We’re not going to risk spoiling everything just because of a bout of nerves.”
The tension rolled on with their journey as the hubbub of the city faded further, leaving a sense of absolute quiet and growing dread. Grif’s hackles rose while Moonshade held her weapons at the ready. Pensword reached for his crossbow.
“Everyone ready?” Pensword asked.
“As I'll ever be,” Grif said, getting into position on the seat closest to the driver side.
“We’ll take up guard by the windows, then,” Pensword said, nodding to Moonshade.
The tension continued to mount until an authoritative voice rang through the air. “Halt!”
The carriage came to a stop, and an equally haughty voice answered in kind from one of the cart Ponies. “What is the meaning of this?”
“The meaning is a thorough search ordered by Chief Ambassador Gorek himself in partnership with your princesses. To ensure the peace is maintained and another uproar avoided, we and others are to work in concert with your Royal Guards to root out the Black Tips.”
Grif slowly unsheathed a stiletto and his flintlock as he waited.
“There are no Black Tips here. Unless one is among your party,” the Pony replied.
“That remains to be seen. Search the vehicle.”
“You will do no such thing without my permission or a document to back your claims, Sir. This carriage belongs to a noble family. And they are due the proper courtesies, as I am sure Chief Ambassador Gorek is well aware.”
“You speak boldly for a servant.”
“Is a servant’s duty not to remain loyal to their lord and lady? That is the honorable thing to do.”
The Gryphon scoffed. “Here is your proof, Pony. As I said.”
The weight of Gryphon paws left Hammer Strike’s ears twitching as he put a hoof to his lips.
Grif worked to silently bring the flintlock to bear, preparing to fire if need be.
“Captain, I smell a Gryphon here.”
“What you are smelling are the lingering traces of Lord Hammer Strike’s guard from a previous visit to our lord’s manor. I believe you are familiar with his name, one Grif Grafson?”
“Past occupant or not, we have sufficient cause to search your carriage. And we intend to do just that, with or without your permission.”
“All right, I’ve grown tired of this,” Hammer Strike sighed in frustration before gesturing for Grif to fire.
Grif locked his aim and fired the flintlock, letting the bullet fly with a thunderous retort. Wood splintered before the explosive force of the metal ball as it drove through the side of the carriage and into the air before the detonation could even reach the unseen inspectors’ ears. A cry mixed between a lion’s roar and an eagle’s screech burst out of the unseen warrior’s lips. Before the Gryphons could recover, Grif quickly shoved his head out the window and threw a stiletto at another one, hitting them in the throat.
“Out of the frying pan….” Pensword said as he fixed his crossbow at a window and fired. Another Gryphon gurgled as the bolt stuck out its throat. “Fight or flight?” he asked Hammer Strike.
“Fight,” Hammer Strike replied as he unsheathed his sword.
A bright pink aura surrounded one of the windows as a Unicorn approached to offer cover while her companions went to work. “Sir, there isn’t much time. We need to get you out of here.”
“There will be more on the way as is.” Hammer Strike frowned in thought. “We’ll need to get a message out quickly.”
“We’ll need a flyer for that, Sir. Send Sylphie. He’s faster. I suggest we get to a more defensible position if we get the chance. We’re sitting ducks out here.”
“We’ll move by hoof. This carriage, while good for cover, isn’t quick enough.” Hammer Strike moved to exit.
“How many are left?” Pensword asked.
The high whistle of a firecracker sounded as a flare burst into the air and detonated.
“Unknown, and about to get a buckload more if that flare means anything.” She swore, then turned and raised her voice. “Sylphie, Aegis, get your flanks in the air now and get some help! Move, move, move! I’ll ward you as far as I can!” The Pegasi gave their acknowledgements in what ways they could manage under the circumstances as Gryphons snarled and otherwise did their best to strike their opponents down. Surprisingly, the drivers were holding their own with a skill that belied their well-groomed exteriors. She looked at the others. “Can you hold out till I can shield you again?”
“We’ll do one better. We’ll guard you till they get out of range,” Pensword said.
“It has to be done quickly,” Moonshade agreed. “Gryphons won’t waste time gathering, and they can move very fast.”
“We’ll probably need a distraction, something to draw the reinforcements toward us instead of having them try to head off our messengers,” Pensword noted as he reloaded his crossbow.
“Well then, what do you say we give 'em blood and vinegar?” Grif asked Pensword with a wink as he readied his weapons.
“I have been wanting to see what my new Thestral side is capable of,” Pensword mused.
“I think I’ve got a good way to alert the others,” Hammer Strike remarked, removing a familiar crystal from his coat.
“That's one way to make an entrance,” Grif laughed.
“I’d recommend getting ready to get out of here, then,” he remarked, pulling other objects out of his coat as he quickly prepared the crystal. Within seconds, he was finished, and planted it against the roof of the carriage. “Go, now!”
There was no need for further prompting as the group emerged from the carriage and into the fray.
“Everyone, away from the carriage!” Grif shouted to their escorts as he sliced or deflected arrows as he was able while dodging. “Find some cover!”
The Group scattered, dodging arrows and thrown weapons alike as they moved to get clear and find safe cover. Splitting up made it harder for their enemy to center their fire on one spot, making dodging easier for everyone as a result.
“Hit the ground!” Hammer Strike called out.
To call what followed a mere explosion would not do it justice. The air was filled with an overriding sound as debris and the very air itself flung outward and upward, sending ricochets of wooden splints, shards of glass, and more as spokes, bands and hubs flew everywhere. Those who couldn’t cover their ears in time cried in pain, even as those screams fell on deafened ears. Those who managed to protect their ears were stunned by the sheer force of the blast pressing them down. A massive plume of smoke and belching flame clawed at the skies to let the whole of the city know of its existence. In short, it was an explosion of spectacular proportions, and all from a single crystal in an ingeniously shaped charge.
Grif counted out fifteen seconds in his head before he uncovered his ears and removed the cloth. Even covered as they were, he still heard the muted boom. Capitalizing on the situation, he charged a stunned opponent, cutting them down with a swing of his sword.
Pensword lunged with all the speed and force he could muster to strike one of the Gryphons in the back. There was a sickening crunch, followed by a look of stunned silence as the Gryphon’s life force was snuffed with the piercing of its heart. “Let’s kill what we can. This is going to be a long fight, and the less we have to worry over, the better!”
Hammer Strike cleaved through an assassin to his side. His wounds weren’t in the best of states, but he could still fight well enough. The poison, however, had started to show signs of hindering him. Nothing severe or notable outside yet, but it was beginning to show.
Unfortunately for Moonshade, she was in the same level of agony, if not worse, than that of their enemies. The sensitive ears of a Thestral were left exposed to the full force of the blast after failing to follow the others’ cue in time. She could not hear. And all she knew was a crippling pain drilling from the outside in as she cried out and pressed her hooves against her ears in a vain effort to somehow stop up the source. One of the Gryphons stumbled toward her, gritting its teeth as a low growl rumbled from its throat. That growl soon turned to a gurgle, however, as a bolt pierced flesh to let the blood flow down its wind pipe. Pensword glared and let loose an angry hiss as he rushed to Moonshade’s side.
There was no snappy retort or rallying cry, merely the urge to cry defiance at those who would dare to take the life of someone who had become a very dear friend. And in that moment, only one word came to mind to resonate with that desire. The call of “REDWALL!” burned and scraped against his throat as he ran to the mare’s side, snorting angrily as he drew his sword.
Grif was a flurry moving in and out of combat with rapid strikes from both blades, weaving through combat, though not seamlessly as tears in his clothing and scratches on his armor would show, even if his dark fur and feathers hid the cuts and bruises developing.
Hammer Strike sliced at the Gryphon to his left, cutting through its forelegs. Before it could cry out in pain, he quickly reversed the strike, bringing his sword back and throwing more strength behind the blow. The sword found its mark, cutting through the attacker’s neck and severing the head. His eyes squinted skeptically as he cut through. For some reason, the air around him seemed to be warmer. His blade began to glow, the blood sizzling as it burned itself clean. The embers soon followed, just as they had the last time. “You want it? Come and get it!” he roared.
What had begun as a quick skirmish was rapidly turning into a battle of attrition. And though the enemy was falling, that did not mean there were no casualties. As warriors, guards, and servants alike fought for their lives, each could not help but wonder the most important and pressing question.
Did the messengers break through to the palace or would they have to fight alone?
Back at the guard post at the main Canterlot Castle gate, the guards were slowly settling down into their routine. The Chief had just retired for the night as the next shift started. The new shift leader ran over the various reports from the day, then broke off, looking to his subordinates. “I want guards watching these three as soon as–”
The room rattled as the shockwave of a massive explosion rushed over the building, shaking the windows as weapons rattled off their racks and clattered to the floor. A bright flash of light had precluded the event, leaving no head unturned.
“What now?” one of the guards groaned, shaking his head. “It’s not even a Tuesday.”
A Pegasus slammed into the ground, skidding into the door. Blood stained his left wing, gushing from an arrow shaft just below the joint. “We were ambushed. Black–” he didn’t even have the strength to finish as his teeth clenched, and he gurgled in agony.His eyes became completely unfocused as the limbs wobbled in what little ways they could manage with the venom’s terrible effect before they froze entirely. The medic rushed on scene, but shook his head sadly, not even bothering to take out his implements. “Poor colt.” He ran his horn over the corpse, then hissed. “Manticore venom. Even if he hadn’t bled out, he was dead mid-flight already.” A loud horn sounded from the castle, signaling the royal guard to deploy. A swarm of dark blue flashed across the dimming sky, mingled with a flood of gold as the guard who were coming off shift rushed back at the summons. The royal sisters followed close behind.
“What happened?” Celestia asked as she gazed at the fallen Pony.
“An ambush, obviously,” Luna said crossly, even as her pupils shifted to the familiar and dangerous slits that were the hallmark of her chosen subjects. “And in the old district, judging by the smoke.” A shrill whistle passed from her lips, and with it came the familiar form of a war-torn Thestral with a single eye patch.
“Chieftess, Your Highness,” he greeted gravely, then looked at his matriarch. “What are your orders?”
“Activate any guards on standby. I want every reserve force in the air. I don’t care if you have to pull the guards who just got off duty. This is an all out attack on the capital. We shall respond in kind.”
“You don’t mean war, do you, Your Highness?”
Luna looked grimly at the Solar Guard who had spoken. “Not yet. But it is a possibility we must be prepared to face. The Black Tips know better than to operate in Our lands openly. Either they received an exceptionally large payment sufficient to entice them to make the attempt or they are operating under the orders of someone very high in authority. If it is in fact the latter….” Her eyes flashed as her horn glowed an ominous blue. In the recesses of her private quarters, the princess’ prized war hammer pulsed, then flew of its own volition to its mistress’ call, wreathed in that same aura. The hammer flew with immense precision, narrowly avoiding harming any Ponies, and only knocking over a few carts, tea trays, or stacks of papers in its response until it burst through the doors to hover at its master’s side. Luna let the full weight of the hammer drop to the floor, causing cracks to spider out from its point of impact. “Then as I said before, we will respond in kind.”
“Luna, you’re not thinking of going after them yourself, are you?” Celestia asked.
“I am, and I will, Sister,” Luna said gravely. “I won’t let them hurt our friends. They are in need of immediate aid. And I intend to supply it.”
“Are you sure about this, Luna?”
“I would not tolerate them before, and I certainly won’t tolerate them in our city now.”
A bookish mare with a bun tied by colored leather straps flew through the open doors and alighted next to Luna. Her bat wings folded gracefully, and her colors were a subdued blue and purple with lighter silvery blue accents like spider webs along the front of her blouse. “Your Highness, I’ve received confirmation from all commanding officers. By your command, the remainder of the Lunar Guard have been ordered to mobilize. They will fly to the source of the explosion as soon as they are prepared.”
“Good.” Luna nodded. “I will go with an advance party. If the forces with me are sufficient, then the remainder are to assist with protecting and escorting civilians to safety. Neither my sister nor I will suffer harm to our subjects. They will coordinate with the Solar Guard.”
“At least take some antidotes and antivenom with you,” Celestia pleaded. “I know I can’t stop you, but you need to protect yourself and the others. Especially if the enemies have … that with them.”
Luna’s smile was kind and thankful, the expression one might expect from a family member when love is being expressed. “Even now, you continue to worry for me. I am grateful for that, Sister. But you know full well Cerberus wouldn’t allow that to come to pass.” Her smile shifted into a smirk. “And all that time on the moon wasn’t spent in mere contemplation.” Luna stamped her hoof on the ground as a silvery aura surrounded her body. “One may be able to scrape skin, but one will have to defeat gravity before they have the chance.” One feather plucked from her wing drifted at her gesture, only to fall like a stone the moment it came near the aura to slam into the ground. It broke apart in a puff of fluff. “If I can control the tides, then I can control the flow of battle around me. I won’t let them get away with this. The last time they came here, these beasts ate our subjects and sought to dispose of us both in the most hypocritical manner.” She hefted her hammer over her shoulder with practiced ease. “I intend to return the favor before I send them to their gods. Will you join me, Celestia? My presence alone may do more to hinder the evacuation than help if you are not there with me.”
Celestia nodded grimly. “As ever in battle, you are right, Sister. Even if you hadn't asked, I still would have come.”
“Then let us away at once. There’s no time to lose.”
Celestia nodded. “Your orders are the same as Luna’s to her guards. You will assemble and move out to assist in evacuation and protection of civilians. Stay clear of the battle. My sister’s guard are used to her tactics and know how to react to her on the field. You do not. We don’t want you to be hurt by the blowback. Work closely with any Lunar Guardsponies to protect your fellow Ponies. We will go ahead of you.”
“Come, Sister!” Luna said urgently.
Celestia nodded and raced after her sibling. As they faded down the hallway, her voice carried back toward the guards. “We’re counting on you!”
“Okay, I don’t care if there’s any unfinished business after this. Once we get treated, we’re taking the train back to Ponyville, ASAP!” Pensword roared his frustration as yet another Gryphon was taken out by Moonshade’s sword. Much though Pensword hated to admit it, his battle experience paled compared to hers. He was able to provide some distraction with the aid of his crossbow bolts, but those took time to reload, and he didn’t always have the leisure to do so. An angry roar rent the air as yet another Gryphon dove toward him with blade raised high to strike. Pensword raised his wings in turn on instinct, and grunted under the force of the blow as the metal screeched against the multitude of metal plates that coated his wings. He growled as the force pushed him back, and he barely managed to adjust the angle to force the blade to slide off. Rather than strike with his sword, Pensword lunged with a bolt and drove it deep into the assassin’s eye before leaping backward to evade the maddened frenzy of strokes that followed before the Gryphon fell twitching to the ground. Pensword winced as the joint at his wing complained once again over the strain he’d just put it through. “We can’t keep this up much longer! Did anyone see a place we can fort up?”
Grif tossed what was left of the Gryphon he had just raked with his talons aside. As he reached for his impaled swords, he shrieked in pain as a dagger dug into his shoulder. Turning quickly, he sliced the Gryphon’s neck before turning back to the fight, heedless of the blade still springing from his shoulder. “There’s a warehouse a little less than a block over. If we get in there, we can bottleneck them. You three go! I’ll cover you!” Grif shouted, sending another blade into a nearby assassin.
“Not bad for a Gryphon.” The cart driver spoke with a heavier Phrench accent now as he joined Grif. “But even you will have some difficulty taking on this much. Why don’t you let someone lighten the load, hmm?” His horn ignited, and a row of ballistae manifested on either side of him to launch with brutal force and efficiency, taking out enemy wings and breaking their formation. “Bold Construct, at your service. My Equestrian comrades call me Engie.”
“Any port in a storm,” Grif said, making an effort to stay out of the balistae’s firing range.
As the group retreated, a volley of arrows came in answer, raking the streets in a deadly rain. Moonshade cried out for the second time as one of the projectiles found a lucky mark between one of the gaps in her armor, pinning her mantle against that part of her body.
“Moonshade!” Pensword screamed at the sight. His lungs burned. His throat felt as if it had been torn by a thousand grains of sand as sharp as diamonds. And though he could feel the unbridled rage and savagery of the new predatory half in his nature, those who had stirred that ire were well beyond his reach. Instead, he offered what shelter he could by extending his wings over her to try to block any other projectiles from passing through. She pressed on with gritted teeth until her leg gave out. “Somebody help me!” Pensword cried again as he struggled to keep the mare upright.
“Get her behind cover,” Grif yelled back as he moved to do what he could to cover them.
Pensword swore. “What cover?” He growled his frustration as he looked frantically back and forth, his ears craning and swiveling for even the slightest hint of the next direction for attack. “Can you keep going?” he asked the mare. “We’re halfway there.”
“If I can’t, we’re both dead,” Moonshade said, gritting her teeth and pushing forward.
“Hammer Strike, are you okay?” Pensword called as he brushed yet another group of arrows aside with a grunt of effort. His wings were getting tired.
“I’ll be fine.” Hammer Strike grunted. “Keep at it.”
Despite their best efforts, the attacks gradually increased as more Gryphons made their way to the region. Some were brazen enough to fly. Others came in the bounds of the mighty predators after which their hindquarters had been fashioned. It grew harder and harder to hold them off, and as time passed, more blows were landed. Glancing, but blows all the same.
Whether by divine providence of sheer stubbornness, the small party finally managed to reach the warehouse. Pensword swore at the sight of a lock holding a chain shut. “Anybody got a hammer? Or a lockpick? I doubt I'll be able to kick this thing open.”
Hammer Strike took no further delays as he moved abruptly to the lock and brought his hoof down on it.
Like the blow of hammer on the anvil, sparks flew in a shower as the lock trembled, and then the catch snapped open as the bottom of the lock dislodged entirely to crash against the cobblestones. Pensword grit his teeth and pulled as hard as he could with his free hoof.
“Hurry inside. I’ll cover you,” he urged Moonshade.
Moonshade hobbled inside as fast as she could with her wounds.
“Let’s keep moving,” Hammer Strike ordered as he motioned what was left of their group in. Between Grif and himself, their rear was covered. They just needed a dividing force to give them an edge. Unfortunately, that edge had yet to come in sight, and a prickling sensation had begun to build over his skin, followed by the pinpricks of needles and an ever rising sensation he had almost forgotten, the feeling of burning growing hotter and hotter to the point of almost scorching as his muscles began to tense, and heat waves radiated off his body.
The interior was dark as a crypt, and smelled of dust. But at least they would be safe, so long as they kept outside of the line of fire. Two buildings stood on either side, and there were no windows or gaps in the roof that could be used to allow access. In short, it was the perfect place for a bottleneck.
Unfortunately, it was also the perfect trap.
“Can you two see all right?” Pensword asked as he laid Moonshade out of the line of fire.
“Well enough,” Hammer Strike called back.
“My vision is perfect,” Grif commented, his feline eyes glowing slightly in the low light.
Pensword handed his crossbow and remaining bolts to Moonshade. “Take this. You won’t be able to fight easily like that, and we don’t have time to give you first aid. Can you cover for us while we fight them off?”
She sighed, then nodded and accepted the weapon. “Yes, I can.”
Grif took the momentary lapse to get up near the roof by the door, prepping himself to pounce as their followers came through.
A few moments later, the door was pushed open as several Gryphons began to burst through. Grif launched himself at the group, intending to engage, but before he could make contact there was a loud bang as several of the Gryphons stiffened and collapsed while a familiar weapon surged through the door to nearly decapitate one of their attackers. It seemed the reinforcements had arrived, and Luna took very little time in making mincemeat of the assassins.
“I’m sorry I missed the party.” The dark Alicorn grinned as she flourished the war hammer.
“At least you made it to said party,” Hammer Strike called out. “What, was my invitation not loud enough?”
“Well, I had to find a good outfit,” she returned. “Seriously, though, are you all okay?”
“Slowly dying, and I don’t like that that’s becoming a standard,” Hammer Strike grunted back in response. “Moonshade definitely needs a medic as soon as possible.”
“Please.” She gave a wet cough.
“It seems we arrived in the nick of time.” Celestia’s voice was so taut, the slightest strain could snap it. “You tend to Moonshade, Luna. I’ll take care of Hammer Strike.”
The two were swift to reach their patients. Hammer Strike’s body had begun to tremble, and the barest hints of sparks could be seen jumping and rolling from him in waves. Moonshade grit her teeth and hissed. Though she despised showing weakness before her chieftess, she knew better than to hide the extent of an injury from one so revered by her people.
Moonshade took in long labored breaths as Luna looked her over. She grit her teeth, drool leaking between her fangs as she bit back the pain and forced her muscles to keep still. She let out hisses as Luna worked the arrow out carefully with magic, shrinking the arrowhead to the size of a pinhead before pulling the shaft away. It still hurt a lot, but prevented the barbed heads from doing further damage. Next, she began to work on healing the wounds as soon as she could while the medics brought vile tasting pills of activated charcoal and several other ingredients to slow, absorb, and otherwise try to neutralize the poison.
One of the medics noticed Grif’s wounds. “How are you not showing signs of poisoning?” he asked worriedly.
Grif gave a few dry heaves before spitting to the side. A large bezoar coated in a vile purple black color landed on the ground. “A preemptive measure.” He shrugged.
“I thought only certain species of bird could do that,” the guard said, stunned.
“Don’t ask,” Grif sighed. “It’s not pleasant.”
“Believe me, I had no intention of doing so.”
“Is she going to be all right?” Pensword asked anxiously.
“She’ll be fine,” Luna assured him. “Extreme symptoms have yet to set in, so we should be able to leech the venom before it turns dangerous.”
Celestia sighed and shook her head. “Why must it always be that you’re either bloody, poisoned, singed, or otherwise in major distress?” she asked of the stallion. “Honestly, I worry more about you than I do about my subjects.”
“Life can never be simple,” Hammer Strike replied with a grunt. “I’ll live.”
“I’ve already sent word to Ambassador Gorek about our unwelcome guests. I also took the liberty of informing him that you would want to visit him personally to discuss the matter in greater detail. As the officially recognized representative of the empire, he speaks with the voice of the emperor and the kings who rule under him, at least officially. He was less than pleased, but seemed willing to accept it as his duty, if not to accept responsibility. I believe he is still trustworthy, but I will leave that judgment to the three of you.”
“We’ll get there when we get there. For now, I need you to do something about this poison before my organs start shutting down.”
“A word of advice,” Celestia said as she gathered her magic in an even mixture of golden light and controlled solar fire, “if you’re going to deal with poison more often, it might be of benefit to increase your resilience against them over time. There are certain methods we can make available if you’re interested.”
“I’ve got something I’m working towards. Just need some shipments and I’ll have more covered.”
“I can expedite the process if needed,” Celestia offered as she ran her horn over his body. “By Mother, you really did push yourself this time, didn’t you?”
“Always do.”
Celestia shook her head, but for a moment, it seemed almost as if tears were swimming in her eyes. Then she blinked, and they were gone. Perhaps it was a trick of the light. “You should be getting the feeling back in your legs now. It will hurt. The venom was attacking your nervous system, and regenerating those receptors is always painful.”
“Certainly already feels horrible, so I’m prepared for that.” Hammer Strike adjusted his stance as golden rivulets of light spread under his skin and shone through fur and scars like frozen arcs of golden lightning branching to every point in his body. The flames that surrounded Hammer Strike were gentle by comparison to the solar inferno that had reduced half a room to slag. And as the magic continued to pour in, Hammer Strike shuddered. The regeneration came in the form of thousands of pins and needles shocking, biting, and stinging in waves and cascades. And yet beneath that, something else felt … different, as though it were … drinking? No, that didn’t feel right. Nursing, perhaps? Regardless, it identified Celestia’s magic and seemed to welcome it, or at least the part of it connected to warmth.
“Let me know if you need me to stop,” Celestia said.
“Push through to completion. I’ll manage,” Hammer Strike grunted.
Celestia nodded. “I’ll need to go a little deeper, since part of it entered your muscles as well, but it seems your body has already begun to adapt to it to an extent.” She glanced toward her sister. “How soon before the Lieutenant Colonel is ready to travel?”
“She should be safe to travel shortly. Just finishing up,"Luna answered as she worked her magic.
“Then I’ll leave it to you to direct the troops for their searches. After that, we’ll take these four to the infirmary.” She frowned as she turned her attention back to Hammer Strike. “It’s possible that you may not be able to walk yet,” she warned. “It takes time for the nerves to settle into a normal pattern again, and sometimes they have to be re-taught. I’ll have a cloud brought to carry you and Moonshade, just in case.”
“Less worried about the need to re-learn, more focused on the fact that I’ve flipped from pain to complete numbness,” Hammer Strike replied.
“Like I said, the nerves sometimes have to be retaught. Give things time. The feeling will return,” Celestia assured.
“I think for now we should teleport them back to the palace. Our presence may act as a deterrent, but I’d rather not test our luck,” Luna noted, already igniting her horn.
“Wait, Sister. Let us gather the clouds first. It will be more efficient than levitation with less risk of disturbing their bodies while they recuperate. Then we can teleport,” Celestia said.
“That … is a good idea. I’m sorry, Sister. I was acting rashly.”
“... We both have at times,” Celestia returned. It didn’t take long for the clouds to be gathered, and Moonshade and Hammer Strike were both soon placed with cloudwalking spells to ensure comfort and keep them in place. Pensword and Griff stood to either side of the clouds while Luna and Celestia both took up positions in the center.
“We’ll have to leave the cleanup to the guards for now,” Celestia said grimly. “Let’s get them back to the castle.”
They were gone in a flash of silver and gold, and darkness followed in their wake.
“Are you three absolutely insane?” Rarity shrieked. “Of all the reckless things to do. What do you think might have happened if the guard hadn’t reached the princesses in time? You should be going around with a guard unit, not exposing your back to the next assassin to stab it!”
The infirmary ward was as comfortable as Hammer Strike remembered it, though more noisy now that a distraught Rarity had come to air her grievances. Even if it was out of concern, the fashionista carried the unique flair for drama inherent to all such designers to an art form.
“If something were to happen…. If you were to die, why I … I … I….” Somehow, the mare levitated what had to be one of the most ornate couches the Ponies and Gryphon had ever laid eyes on to her side before promptly swooning onto it. The question was how she managed to conjure it there in the first place when the windows were so small and the doors remained closed. “This is simply too much.”
“Trust me, we’re not exactly looking for this,” Hammer Strike replied. “Just doesn’t help that our presence comes with a lot of enemies.”
“Four different attacks in twenty four hours, and none of you took an escort to help you fight.” She sighed. “And the last one you took lost some of their lives…. Gryphons are up in arms, and tensions around the city are growing tauter than a wound spool. If this doesn’t stop soon….” Rarity frowned and averted her gaze. “I worry what may happen. To them and to us.”
“It’s one of the reasons we’d like to get moving towards Everfree Castle.” Hammer Strike sighed. “Moves us away from civilians for the time being.”
“The princesses mentioned they had a plan to assist with the attacks at least,” Pensword noted. “If it goes well, we shouldn’t have to worry about being followed anymore.”
“If it goes well,” Rarity pointed out. Then she groaned and flopped back on the cushions again. “The stress from this is giving me a headache.” She promptly levitated a cool glass of water proffered by one of the staff. “Thank you, darling,” she said as an aside before drinking it down and placing it to the side before resuming her histrionics. “And the worst part of it is I had to sit here and wait for you all to come back with no idea what condition you would be in.”
“I mean, we know we appear in the Third Gryphon War, so it’s not like we can die feasibly until after that happens … happened? Does happened? Will happened?” Grif rolled his eyes. “Time talk is weird.”
“Always will be,” Hammer Strike agreed.
“Can’t you take at least a week without facing mortal danger?” Rarity part-asked, part-whined, and part-chided. “I’ll even accept six days.”
“Trust me, we’d love to. It just constantly falls into our laps,” Hammer Strike remarked as he furrowed his brow.
The doors to their private room opened then, and the familiar graceful form of Gorek padded into the room alongside Princess Luna.
Luna cleared her throat. “May I introduce the Imperial Ambassador Gorek again,” Luna noted. “Gorek, I’m sure you remember these three from your historical accounts.”
Gorek nodded gravely. “I am relieved to see that you four have survived. And on behalf of His Imperial Majesty, I wish you the speediest of recoveries.”
“Thanks, I guess,” Grif said. “Who was behind that?”
Gorek’s expression was grim. “The conspiracy is far-reaching, and one that carries grim implications. The majority of Gryphons in Equestria are loyal to it and its princesses. But there are those who still adhere to the old ways. And though Equestria is prosperous and peaceful, that does not exclude it from intrigue. With the assistance of one of your citizens, we were able to determine the culprits and ferret out much of the network involved. Regretfully, this conspiracy even stretched into the halls of my embassy. Rest assured, justice has been done in the most humiliating way possible. They have been stripped of their pride, their rank, their status,” he looked intently at Grif and Pensword. “And their wings. When we’ve extracted all the information we can from them, their heads will follow.”
Grif looked unsettled at that.
“Although we are a prideful race, we also know the importance of loyalty and obedience. The ambassadors who ordered these attacks and ensured the Black Tip infiltration would not have done so unless they were ordered by one to whom they swore their allegiance. And that fealty would need to be stronger than what they feel toward the emperor himself.” Gorek shook his head. “I fear that there will be much unrest in the empire in the future. And now I need to draft reports to the emperor and to the kings who assigned these traitors their posts. Needless to say, full disclosure will only go to one source. As for the rest, … well, let’s just say that there is more than one battlefield, and I excel in the arena of words and rhetoric. I cannot give you restitution at this time. Not until I receive word from the emperor. But rest assured, you will receive a proper gift when the time comes, Grif Grafson. And while I do not speak in my official capacity with this next statement, I hope you are willing to accept it as truth. You have an ally in me, so long as the cause is honorable and just. It is the will of the emperor that Gryphonia and Equestria remain on good terms. And by the Winds, I’ll make sure that they do.”
Grif nodded. “Thank you for your efforts.”
“So, same time next year then?” Luna asked with a wry smile.
Gorek chuckled. “So long as we don’t end up on the brink of war, I think something can be arranged.”
“I still think you should’ve gone with the cloud,” Grif said to his friend as they sat on the train cart’s cushioned seats. The wheels clacked and bumped along the rails, causing the Earth Pony to wince at certain intervals. “Don’t have to worry about inertia that way.”
“I’ll be fine, Grif.” Hammer Strike sighed. “I’m not planning on doing anything strenuous, and will probably stick around my room until I’m well enough to work. Potentially a little before I am well, knowing myself.”
“At which point, we’re going to have to make someone put you back in bed until you finish recovering properly,” Grif said matter-of-factly. “Or did you want to repeat what happened at the Crystal Empire before all Sombra broke loose?”
“It was only a minor case of severe exhaustion, thank you very much.” Hammer Strike chuckled. “I still managed quite well after the fact. I, at the very least, plan on recovering more than I did then.”
“We’re going to hold you to that,” Pensword said. “Believe me, I know the importance of recuperation after a procedure.”
“I’ll live, you two.” He gave a soft smile before turning his gaze out the window once more.
“There’s living, and then there’s living. You’d better be one hundred percent by New Year’s Eve. There’s no way I’m going to the Apples alone. And you know Granny Smith’ll tan our hides if you’re not there with us,” Grif said.
“I’m sure I’ll be fine after a few days' rest.”
“Oh, I’m sure you will.” Grif smiled, and a sudden sense of foreboding came over Hammer Strike. “I just wanted to be sure we understand each other.”
“Almost there,” Pensword noted as his ear twitched, and he eyed the landscape out the windows.
“Don’t worry, Hammer Strike. I’m sure I can find a means to relieve your boredom during recuperation,” Rarity assured him. “After all, this fashionista does more than design stylish clothing.”
“It’ll be appreciated,” Hammer Strike chuckled.
As the train pulled up to Ponyville station, two lines of familiar faces garbed in full formal attire stood on either side of the carriage door. Polished Brass stood at the head, waiting for the group to disembark.
“I feel like someone told him something,” Hammer Strike remarked.
“Did you really think someone wouldn’t after everything we just went through?” Grif asked. He looked so artfully innocent that Hammer Strike half-expected a cartoon halo to manifest above the Gryphon’s head.
Hammer Strike sighed. “I’ll make you regret it later. Time to get this over with.” Once the train pulled to a complete stop, he stood from his seat and made his way toward the exit.
“Master Strike,” Polished Brass greeted him. “We’ve come to welcome you and escort you home.”
“I’m not even going to argue the point.” He sighed once again.
“Very good, Sir. We’ve taken the liberty of preparing means of transport, should you be unable to travel on your own power. Merely as a precaution, of course. And we will depart at your leisure.”
“I can walk,” Hammer Strike spoke firmly.
“Barely,” Grif added.
“Then that simply means we need to offer support if he needs it,” Rarity said firmly as she disembarked with Pensword and Moonshade close behind. “Emphasis on if, of course, darling,” she added to the stallion.
“Thank you,” Hammer Strike nodded to Rarity.
Rarity smiled in turn. “Of course. That is what friends are for, after all.”
Extended Holiday Chp 31: Ring Out Wild Bells Act 3
“It has been four days since the whole deal with Canterlot. I am pretty sure I can walk around perfectly fine,” Hammer Strike said.
“Just do not overdo it,” Pensword muttered as he sat for Nurse Redheart to examine his wound. He smiled and looked over to Moonshade. “Are we packed for the move?” he asked, wincing as he turned away from Redheart’s probing hoof.
“The guards are sorting the non-essential equipment into wagons. We can’t afford to have them sort things we need until we get closer,” Moonshade noted as she fussed over the gauze padding against her barrel.
“So, we’re finally getting around to the move,” Hammer Strike said as he stood up. “Good. Good.” He sighed. “Well, I think I’ll head off now that I am done.”
“Only if you take two of your guards with you,” Pensword snapped.
“I’ll take the Shields. I’m actually pretty sure they followed us here.”
“Sounds good,” Pensword said as the Shield brothers entered. “Keep him safe, and by all means, drag him back here if needed.” He sighed and moved to sit again next to Moonshade. “I feel old.”
“Well, technically speaking, you are over a thousand,” she pointed out.
“Touche,” Pensword muttered with a slight smirk. “Still, well, back home, today usually was a day of reflection over the year that is about to pass and the year yet to be. A most interesting time to be alive.” Then he bit his lip as Redheart applied some sterile alcohol to another wound in need of redressing.
Taze groaned softly, the non-existent wound on his shoulder making his body complain as he worked to pull himself up on the branch. His usual morning workout had done a great deal for him, but it was only getting him so far. Currently, he was near the outskirts of Ponyville with Sylvio. The white Timberwolf pup played happily as he worked out, stalking an elusive stick while Black Rook watched over the pair.
“Sir, are you sure you should be doing that?” Black Rook asked.
“I’m only damaged as Grif,” Taze noted. He had shared his secret with Rook a while ago, so the two could speak freely about it when alone. “I need to be better, Rook.”
“Better how?”
“Rook, I failed back in the Empire, and I almost failed during that attack in Canterlot. I can’t have close calls when lives are at risk. I need to be better,” Taze repeated as he rhythmically pulled and depressed.
“So you plan on becoming a superhero? I mean, no disrespect, Sir,” he said, pausing to take a breath. “You can’t save every life. If anything, your actions are causing others in your training class to push themselves beyond their limits. Even if they’re trying to shave just half of a second off their times, or make another push-up. It’s good to exceed those limits, but not if it exhausts you in the process,” Rook said, his face wrinkled with concern. “Don’t push yourself too hard. The weather’s a little chilly for those without the fur.”
“Rook, where I’m from back home, this wouldn’t even be labeled as cold. This is maybe nippy at best.” Taze laughed as he set himself down. “Did you get those weights for me?”
“Well, yes, I brought them in the cart over there.” Rook paused as he saw a Pony already lifting the weights. “It appears that one Bulk Biceps is using them at the moment.” He blinked in confusion. “I recall he offered to help design a gym for the troops in the Everfree.”
“That might be a good plan.” Taze nodded, heading to the cart. “Frankly, Rook, I don’t know if I deserve to be here myself. Why are they pushing themselves for me? What did I do for it?” he asked, taking a swig from a bottle of water he had placed nearby earlier.
Rook looked like a deer caught in the headlamps. “Because they see you, a two-legged, furless creature that’s as weak as a foal, pushing for the protection of those around him without any natural defenses. And it might be due to the news of the third human slipping into a coma during your visit. You want to protect them, and they want to protect you.” He shrugged. “Welcome to a military herd, Sir.”
“I was the one who pulled them into the fight. I could have held the Black Tips off,” Taze grumbled. “I asked for their help, and because of that the three of them nearly died, and two guards did die. What's the point if I can’t defend anyone?” He asked, picking up a free set of weights.
“Held them off how?” Rook asked as he moved to spot the human. “Also, weren’t they specifically hired to target you anyways?”
“The others were in a carriage,” Taze said, “and there was something about the fight that… unsettled me. I knew how the Black Tips would attack. I felt it,” Taze admitted. “It was strange. It didn’t feel natural, but I knew how they would fight and I could have kept them off us till Hammer Strike, Moonshade, and Pensword got inside the warehouse. They didn’t need to fight.”
Rook continued to stare. “Sir, you need to know that when you’re a part of a herd, the ones who can fight surround those who can’t and face outwards to attack anything that might threaten them. I have to say, as a Gryphon, you act more like a Pony in many ways. However, unlike most Gryphons, who fight solo or in groups with individual plans, a herd moves more like a trebuchet set into motion. They’re smooth and quick. What you experienced was friends who wouldn’t run, knowing that one of their own was in danger. To us Ponies, you fought like noble Ponies fight: together and ever moving to a goal. In this case, that goal was covering you.”
“Tell me again how exactly I ended up your superior?” Taze chuckled. “But seriously, I’d die for my friends. I never wanted them to die for me.”
Rook smiled as he signalled the rep’s completion with an extended hoof. “Maybe they think the same way? They wouldn’t leave you to die to the enemy. If you’re really dead set on doing things yourself, you might want to consider leading your troops away from the same battlefield. Otherwise you’d race to cover each other's back every time.” He chuckled. “Sir, that may be a noble sentiment, but Pensword said something he heard from a human soldier: ‘Make the enemy die for his country, not you die for your own.’ Frankly, I’d rather not lose any more Humans. You’re all crazy, but that craziness is making this stagnate herd start to actually work for once. At this rate, we’ll be the strongest military force in Equestria.”
“You’ve heard of Luna’s bill then?” Taze asked, moving carefully to the larger weights and waiting for Rook to get in position to spot him.
Rook hastily complied. “Yeah, a little. Just rumors around camp. You know how much some Ponies love to gossip. I’ve heard just about everything from Luna becoming some General Princess over all military personnel to her just trying to put more money into the budget. Some Ponies even say she wants to put a battalion on the moon to protect it from aliens.”
Taze laughed through a grunt as he started his lifts. “Not quite any of those. You realize it took less than three hours for the Changelings to completely dominate Canterlot?”
“Yes. It was probably the most shameful moment in Royal Guard history. They used to bluster on about how we were the rejects, and look what happened to them.” Rook shuddered. “If that’s what the best of the best have to offer … I don’t know what’s kept Equestria safe till now.”
“Rook, a thousand years ago, in a similar surprise attack by the Gryphons on a simple bordertown, it took the attacking forces days to officially take the town, plus two weeks afterwards to root out resistance pockets. That was a town, and the fighters were Gryphons. This was the capital of the country and it was attacked by Changelings,” Taze pointed out. “You know what the difference was between then and now?”
“Pensword was there?” Rook asked cheekily, the beginnings of a smile tugging at his lips. Then he dropped back into his serious face. “To tell you the truth, I don’t really know.”
“Back then, Equestria had soldiers, not guardsmen,” Taze explained. “Soldiers trained for war and combat, conditioned mentally and physically before they were equipped. What Princess Luna wants is to bring that back, to give Equestria a military again so that the country that's seen a thousand years of relative peace and prosperity doesn’t fall in a day to a surprise attack.”
Rook nodded as they both turned while the large white Pegasus sat up with a loud, “YEAH!”
“... Sir, I have to say that even though I don’t have a vote, I hope the bill passes all the same.” Black Rook shook his head. “Still, I wouldn’t suggest using surprise attacks on towns as metaphors around Pensword. That could be considered insensitive.”
“Pensword will want Luna to use whatever examples are necessary to show the nobles what's needed.” He smirked at the black Pony. “You know nobles. They need pretty intricate proof to commit to anything.”
Rook nodded. “At least to vote for anything that doesn’t focus on their own well being. That opinion was strictly off the record, of course.” He smirked. “Sir, you did a half more of a rep than you planned on doing today. I think you’re good; your arms are starting to shake.”
“That’s a good idea, Rook.” Taze nodded, slowly setting the weights down safely before taking more water. “Tell me, have you ever gotten any training like what we’ve given you during your short time in the Guard?”
Rook shook his head. “No, Sir. This has been the most intense training I’ve had the entire time I’ve been in the Guard. I heard a rumor that Ponies in the Special Division might try and copy your training in the future.” He shrugged. “I thought you might like to keep an ear perked on the talk in the camp as well.”
“That’s why I keep you around, Rook.” Taze grinned. “And why I tell my guards to speak to me like they would anyone else unless the occasion calls for it. You all are my eyes and ears to what’s being said in hushed tones, as they say.”
Rook nodded and saluted. “Thank you, Sir. You should know they also respect and fear you both as a human and the quartermaster. They feel confused about why heroes would focus on a washed up group on their last legs instead of visiting the heart of the Guard in Canterlot.”
“Rook, which type of sword do you use, a stiff sword or one with enough give to bend when required?” Taze asked. “You and your group of so-called-washouts represent potential. You aren’t so set in a training course that is considerably past obsolete that you won’t adapt. A legend is forged through time and experience, but first you need to learn. A group of washouts who are willing to learn are worth more to me than the most disciplined diehards.”
Rook blushed at the compliment. “Th-thank you, Sir.” He chuckled. “Must be confusing living in a land of relative peace when you’re from, well, your world. You know, with all the monsters and humans fighting one another.”
Taze sighed. “Sometimes I think the humans can be more monstrous than the monsters are. But while we’re on the topic of discipline, Rook, talk to the men. We’re changing our salute. If we’re going to be together in battle, then we start saluting each other like brothers, not superiors.” Taze stood straight, his shoulders back, and banged his right fist to his left shoulder, wincing slightly at the phantom pain.
The Stallion smiled and tried to mimic the motion. His shoulder joint made it a little harder for him to accomplish the gesture as a Pony, but he managed. “A most interesting salute.”
“Now let’s get these weights back to base, Lieutenant. I promised Sylvio over there a walk today, and I think he’s been a good boy waiting patiently.” The pup in question barked happily as they packed up.
After finding the Shield brothers, who just happened to be outside the room, Hammer Strike decided to take a walk around the town, specifically to one of his favorite locations: the market.
“Um, Sir?” Blast Shield asked as they wove through the stalls.
“Yes?” Hammer asked, glancing back.
“We were wondering. Why didn’t you just use your other form? Wouldn’t it allow you to continue your daily routine unhindered?” Tower Shield asked.
“I would, but there is a slight problem with that,” Hammer Strike started. “One part being that there is still venom in my blood, and two, I’m still burning up. My core temperature is much higher than normal right now in order to help burn the venom out of my system.” He paused. “Both, in which case, could be extremely fatal to my other half, but I am still living now.”
“Oh,” Blast Shield said, looking down at the trail of watery slush and steaming earth behind Hammer Strike. “That explains a few things.”
“Surprisingly, I don’t feel like I’m burning up. It feels mostly normal at this point,” Hammer replied.
“Maybe you’ve found some altered form of wild magic?” Tower Shield offered.
“Oh, do I have a lot to tell you… later, of course,” Hammer replied. “For now, I’m curious to see what the market has in stock.”
“Of course.” Blast Shield nodded as they headed in that direction. “It’s good to know you’re safe, Sir.”
“Glad to know you care. A lot of Ponies would possibly rather have me disappear.”
“No great Pony is without enemies,” Tower Shield said.
“Certainly,” Hammer responded. “Now, I think I have some really bad ideas, but I want to ignore that and just purchase something of use to either myself, Pensword, Grif, you two, the Guard, the smiths, or... for crying out loud, I need to shorten that down.”
“Well, Sir, I don’t really think you need to choose a single one,” Blast Shield noted, “seeing as your bounties arrived yesterday.”
“¿Qué?” Hammer Strike asked.
“In the last Gryphon war, Luna put a fifty bit bounty on every Black Tip killed. This bounty was never rescinded because everyPony thought the Black Tips were disbanded,” Blast shield explained. “On top of that, as their liege lord, you are awarded five bits off of every bounty gained by Grif or Pensword,” Tower Shield noted. “Didn’t you notice the large chest we placed outside your room?”
After a momentary pause, Hammer Strike finally found his words. “I noticed it, but at the same time, I think I have a few chests that I haven’t opened yet…” He paused again. “What was the total count?”
“Just over two thousand bits, Sir,” Tower Shield responded. “Not a bad sum at all.”
“If it was fifty per assassin…” He paused as he thought of something. “How many did I kill?”
“From what they could identify, forty,” Blast Shield said.
“Forty? I thought I was just drugged out on Manticore venom and seeing more,” he muttered.
“Yes, Sir. The guards noted it in their report,” Tower Shield said. “They’re terrified of how many you’d have killed had you been in perfect health.”
“In all honesty, I didn’t feel that bad until the end of it. Then again, at the end, I’m pretty sure there was enough poison in my system to be my blood.” He chuckled.
“Sir, most would have been dead in minutes. It took you over an hour to feel it,” Blast Shield pointed out.
“How long would it take for a Minotaur to feel it, or be offed from it?” Hammer asked. “Don’t know myself, but I know that the medic there seemed confused about how I was physically able to stand when I had enough in my system to halt one…”
“Ten minutes,” Tower Shield offered, “if it’s one of the larger ones.”
“Good to know I live up to one of my legends,” Hammer said. “Lets look around and see if there is anything that looks neat. And if you spot anything you two would want, tell me, as I now have, and apparently already had, quite a sum of bits.”
Pensword scowled at his new shared quarters. He was still not happy that he’d lost his barracks to the architects. Also, it was against regulations to turn part of his office into a place to actually sleep every night. It was okay to do so if the commanding officer was working hard and late, but not on a continued basis. He was momentarily distracted when he noticed the set of chests lined up on either side of the entryway. “Moonshade?” He asked turning to his left as he heard her hoofsteps on the stairs. He turned back and poked one of the chests with a hoof. On each chest, a brass plaque shone boldly at the front with his and Moonshade’s names engraved on each respectively, then Hammer Strike, then Grif.
The thestral mare made her way up the stairs slowly, still favoring the bandaged flank. “Yes?” she asked.
“Uh, what are these? ” He pointed to the chests with a hoof. “Also, it seems that Hammer Strike’s is the biggest of the chests.” He poked their two chests again. “What gives?”
Moonshade looked at the chests and smiled. “I didn’t expect these to be sorted out and calculated for another week,” she said, walking over to her chest and opening the lid to reveal many glittering gold bits. “Royal bounties.”
“Bounties?” Pensword balked as he tore open the lid on his own chest. “But bounties for what?” He froze and sucked in a breath with a loud hiss. “Black Tips?” he asked silently. “That... but...” He shuddered. “I really, really don’t want to meet any more of those. They... I have to admit they scare me.”
“Princess Luna put fifty bits on the head of every confirmed Black Tip kill,” Moonshade explained. “You don’t tend to take people trying to kill you kindly.” She smiled gently, doing her best to comfort Pensword with a distraction.
Pensword raised a skeptical eyebrow. “That was in the last war, but…” he paused and closed his eyes. “That was so close to the time that everything kind of blew up, wasn’t it? I guess it was still active?” He sighed. “Still, I can only think of one thing at the moment.” He pulled his own muzzle into a small smile. “Commissioning unit flags for the students.”
Moonshade looked puzzlingly at him before returning to the chest yet again. “Unfortunately for you, five bits on every head goes to Lord Hammer Strike, as he is your liege lord.”
Pensword laughed. “Even here I cannot avoid taxes on every bit that comes into my life.” He shook his head. “I guess they really are universal. So, uh, who pays my actual salary then? I do have a job, I think … don’t I?”
“Your salary is supposed to be covered by Lord Hammer Strike. Though, honestly, I think given the circumstances it’s been confusing getting things settled. Fortunately, the recruits are paid through Luna and Celestia.”
“I am glad to hear that the recruits are still drawing an income,” Pensword muttered. “Still, that is something that might need to be taken care of. After all, Hammer Strike now has a staff that needs to be paid as well. Then again, they get food and board, I think. But still, that is food to buy, and we have to rebuild the housing, and–” he shook his head. “Too much. Too much. Worry later. I can survive on little. Focus on the staff.” He almost looked like he was starting to hyperventilate.
Moonshade put a comforting hoof on Pensword’s back. “Everything will work out,” she promised. “Most of the servants are still riding off the thrill of being out of House Blueblood. The others seem patient enough. Hammer Strike will find a way to pay them, and they know that.”
Pensword fluffed his wings to vent his anxiety. Then he shook his head and sputtered before regaining his composure. “That is good to hear. It provides a little more relief. I was worried I would have to devise a counter-strategy for a servant uprising. That is something I would rather not do.”
“Honestly, most Ponies remember that House Strike is still being rebuilt from the floor up,” Moonshade noted. “They're not going to be pulling out their ledgers for settling debts and things like that for at least two more years.”
Pensword nodded. “I am guessing that is some law as well, right? I need only say one word, Blueblood, and I think you might understand that not every house would wait two years to settle debts. Strangely enough, from what I’ve read, it was only in recent generations that House Blueblood took this turn.”
“House Blueblood also owes considerable debts across the spectrum,” Moonshade noted. “If it turned out they owed House Strike money and he tried to collect, the other nobles might follow suit and ruin them.”
“Great,” Pensword muttered. “This sounds like a mini financial system that could very well ruin the nation, or at least the nobility and a good chunk of the economy.” He groaned, putting a hoof to the bridge of his muzzle and rubbing between his eyes. “Moonshade, I want you to look into anything that foreign investors might be able to use as a financial weapon. I do not want to see the nobility suddenly crashing down due to debt collectors.” He looked back at the chest. “Not all wars are fought with blood and steel.”
“Equestria has had economic stability, if not superiority, for the past five hundred and fifty years,” Moonshade noted. “Somehow Celestia always seems to be able to pay for anything that comes up.”
“Still, I came from a nation that had a big economy and it tanked. It was only a brief recession, but it affected a lot of lives. My grandparents lived through what was called the Great Depression, where the entire nation went into a downward spiral. Only the income provided by a literal world war brought them out of that slump.” He sighed, examining the hoof he had rubbed his nose with, then shifted back to Moonshade. “It doesn’t matter how good an economy is. You could still end up having someone manipulate it for their own means.”
“I’ll keep my ears to the ground then,” Moonshade said.
“Thank you. I’d rather worry, have a plan, and never use it than not do anything and be scrambling for something at the last minute.” He paused and smiled. “Remind me to tell you about something Matthew had in his memory about War Plan Red.”
“So, is there anything you’d like to start with?” Moonshade asked as she began loading bits into the small bag she kept hidden in her armor.
“Start in what way? Also, do we have anything not armor related to wear to tonight’s party?” he asked as he began to put some coins into his own pouch. “I am thinking of opening an account in Ponyville, actually. Then I could use these trunks for other purposes, like storing armor, or weapons, maybe uniforms.”
“Then should we head for the bank?” Moonshade asked.
“Agreed.” He paused midway down the hall. “I should probably write a letter to see if I actually already have a bank account first,” he said with a shudder. “For all I know, I might already have one and not even know it.”
Taze casually entered the library after a few minutes of knocking with no answer. “Hello? Anybody home?”
“Yes?” Twilight called up from the basement. “Who’s up there?”
“Twilight? I was just coming to see if you’d finished with any of the chapters Shawn translated. I’d kind of like to start studying them myself.”
“Yeah.” He heard her voice getting closer. “Let me bring it to you.”
After a moment, Twilight emerged from her basement, the book in question hovering in her magical grasp. “Here you go, Taze.”
“Thanks. Anything interesting?” he asked, taking it and placing it in his bag.
“Uh…” she started as she closed the basement door. “Chapter five.”
“Okay, so… where’s Spike?” Taze asked.
“He’s over at Rarity’s.”
“Your tail’s a little singed,” Taze noted, “and you’re making yourself more suspicious by hugging to that door.”
“It’s, uh... I had a small accident down in the lab,” she said, laughing hesitantly.
“Yeah, yeah.” Taze rolled his eyes. “You obviously broke some rule. If you aren't fooling me, you aren't fooling Shawn.” Taze opened the book, scanned the page, and looked at her. “You were experimenting on this stuff alone, weren’t you?”
“... Alright, yes,” she shamefully admitted. “It just seemed so interesting. I mean, a whole new branch of magic I knew nothing about, and… well... I just really wanted to try it,” she said, her voice slowly fading, even as she reached the end of her pathetic sentence.
“I’d ask if the thought of Ponyville being a smoking crater seemed good to you, but honestly, that’s every third tuesday for this town.” Taze sighed, shaking his head as he turned towards the door, book in hand. “Just be careful next time.” Much to his surprise, he opened the door to face Hammer Strike standing with his typical blank expression. “Ooh, scratch that. You’re in trouble now,” Taze said, looking back at Twilight.
“Well, I’ve got places to be, people to kill, etcetera, etcetera. Have fun you two,” Taze said, quickly making his way out the door. The last thing he heard from the tree was, “We’re going to have a small chat about this…” As he ran, Taze felt a weight on his shoulder. Looking over, he found Renati resting there. “Didn’t want to be in the middle of that firefight either?”
The phoenix gave him a long blank stare.
“Wow, Shawn’s been teaching you well.” Taze laughed. “Pretty soon you’ll be telling Sylvio what to do.” Now, there were no witnesses, so it was Taze’s word against nature, but he was certain the phoenix shrugged as they walked on. “...Okay, I am losing what little sanity I’ve got left. I just hope my break’s not a psychotic one. You know, blood stains,” he said to himself as he walked towards the inn.
Pensword looked at the rather empty bank building, one of the few completely stone structures in all of Ponyville. Gazing up at the clock mounted over the clerk’s desk, he noticed it was close to closing time. “So,” he said, shuffling nervously up to the counter before smiling at the clerk. “I would like to open an account.” He paused and looked to Moonshade. “And if it is at all possible, I would like for you to make time today for Lieutenant Colonel Moonshade of the Lunar Guard to also take care of her transactions as needed.”
“Your name?” The clerk asked.
“My full legal name?” he asked with a raised eyebrow and a slight upturn of his voice.
“Yes,” she said. “I do have to have it verbally confirmed when creating an account.” She gave an apologetic nod towards him. “It helps with our security spells.”
Pensword sighed. “I will repeat if needed.” He took a deep breath as the clerk placed a large crystal paperweight with multiple flashing lights. The crystal at its core was dull and dead. “My full name is Sir Pensword Parchment Strike Hurricane.” The dull crystal glowed a dull light blue, joining the myriad of other colors as they pulsed together.
The teller nodded, satisfied. “And you are a citizen of Equestria, correct?” she asked, rolling her eyes as she read off the list.
“Yes, I am a citizen of Equestria.”
“Your approximate age?” She asked.
Needless to say, any real seriousness between Moonshade and Pensword broke at that. Between laughs, he was able to ask. “Which standard? Equestrian or my own biological reckoning?”
“As ridiculous as it’s going to look, we have to have your full Equestrian standard age on record. With yours, you’ll likely apply for all our senior benefits.”
“Yeah, that will be strange. Birth would be Spring, later picked to be April fourteenth of year 101. That would make me one thousand thirty years old.” He held up a wing. “I can only give you the season. Since I was found as an orphan, no one knows my real birthdate, only that I could walk.”
“Okay,” the clerk said. The blue-green Unicorn mare levitated a quill towards him and held out a piece of parchment. “If you could make sure the information is correct, as well as read the agreement before signing in the indicated areas, we can get started.”
Pensword nodded as he pushed an imaginary pair of glasses back up his nose. The document was surprisingly short. It told the interest he would incur every month, the lowest balance he could have before needing to close the account due to insufficient funds, etc. It was fairly cut and dry. Twenty minutes later, he took the quill and signed his name as well as the initial deposit of 250 bits, leaving him with one thousand bits left at his personal quarters. Then, to the shock of the clerk, he tipped the ink from the inkwell into a large square dish he had with him, dipped his hoof into it, and slammed the hoof down on the parchment. He then moved to the side as he cleaned his hoof and horseshoe. “What? You don’t stamp one’s hoof to seal an agreement anymore?”
“It’s not fully necessary anymore,” the clerk said, trembling slightly. A slight hoof-shaped indent had been left behind on the soft wood of her desk. “Only a few Ponies ever use it. Personally, I’ve never seen it done before,” she noted, taking the parchment. “Was … was there anything else you needed?”
Pensword smiled and nodded to Moonshade. “I think she wishes to do business as well.”
The mare immediately perked up. “Oh, hello, Moonshade.” The mare nodding her head as a sign of respect before beaming a smile shared between close friends. “What’ll it be today?” she asked.
Moonshade chuckled. “Another deposit, Penny.
“How much will you be depositing today?” Penny returned. “The usual salary?”
“Actually, I have two hundred and fifty bits this time, and I’ll be depositing another seven hundred over the next few days.”
Penny balked. “What did you do? Rescue Princess Luna?”
Moonshade laughed. “No, no. I just killed some Black Tips when they came after Pensword.” She let out a mock sigh. “Honestly, I can’t let this Pony out of my sight for five minutes.
Penny nodded her head, making a note as she collected the bits. “Will you be making your usual twenty percent donation to the Ancestral Ground Society?” She asked.
“Of course,” she said, signing the slip Penny slid her way.
“Moonshade, you never change. You and I need to have a girl’s night out one of these days. I’ve clearly missed a little too much,” Penny said, smirking as she looked to Pensword, then back at Moonshade.
“Penny!” Moonshade balked. Penny just laughed as a blushing Moonshade stalked away from the desk with Pensword in tow.
“Call me, Mooney!” Penny shouted as the doors slammed shut.
“Um … what’s the Ancestral Ground Society?” Pensword asked, anxious to help get Moonshade’s mind off the embarrassing comment. His own cheeks were flaming, so they both needed the distraction.
Moonshade sighed. “It’s a society based around keeping Thestral culture and traditions alive,” she explained. “I donate twenty percent of my paycheck to it every few weeks.”
“... When I get an income, may I help donate to it as well?” he asked, examining his hoof. “It might be good to actually show that I accept both sides of my heritage.”
“They would appreciate that,” she said as she nodded. “Not many Ponies even think about it anymore. Since Thestrals came out of hiding during the Third Gryphon War, things have been tense with the tribes.”
“So… what did you try?” Hammer Strike started as he scrutinized Twilight. Taze had just left, and the Shield brothers were standing guard outside.
“I… I was just trying to convert fire into it’s pure aspect form from a candle. There was barely a flame,” she said sheepishly.
“You do realize how dangerous that is…” he started.
“I had several wards set up over the basement and twenty four on myself,” she said as they both glanced at her singed tail. “... Though maybe they weren’t exactly powerful enough.”
“Yeah, and the fact that it was that bad from a candle flame...” He sighed. “I put that warning in the book for a reason. Another thing is the fact that we don’t know how your magic would respond to it, or vise versa. Just messing with this power is dangerous. I used a flame smaller than that of a candle. I used an ember and nearly burned my hands from the failed outcome.”
“But magic is about experimenting,” Twilight argued. “If we’re not prepared to take chances, we won’t learn anything.”
“Why do you think I’m trying to work fast? Thaumic power is different from yours, an example being, scan me. Where is my source of power?” He ordered, tapping a hoof to his chest.
Twilight bowed her head and concentrated as a lavender glow surrounded her horn. The spell was relatively simple, and soon she could sense the magic inside the room. Her eyes widened as everything came into focus. With normal Equestrians, magic burned internally like a core. Scanning around, she recalled the usual locations for magic and how it was released from the standard equine: through the hooves in the case of an Earth Pony, wings for Pegasi, and horns for a Unicorn. The one time she had scanned princess Celestia during her lessons, it had felt almost as if the Alicorn’s magic had been compressed, rapidly streaming to all three focal points to leave her body. Then she ran her magic over Hammer Strike. Much to her shock, she could feel the Earth Pony had something different altogether. His magic wrapped around his body like a film or an intricate magical shield. Inside this film of sorts, a small spark of magic burned like a miniature furnace inside his body. Having seen what she was meant to see, she dropped her spell, speechless.
“I am infused with something different, and that makes it possible to mess with this field, and far more easily, because it was meant for it,” he said. “Also, Luna, come out already. I heard your hooves ages ago.”
Twilight was more than a little shocked as the lunar princess entered the room from behind one of the bedroom doors. “How did you hear me?” She asked. She checked her hooves. Her metal shoes were indeed off, as she remembered.
“Slightest difference in audio in the area. That combined with very good hearing,” Hammer responded as he turned back to Twilight.
“We are most disappointed in you, Twilight,” Luna said standing up straight. “Did our sister never give you spells only to practice when she was present?”
“Yes, she did. I’m sorry, Princess Luna.” Twilight’s ears fell as she bowed her head. “It won’t happen again.”
Hammer Strike’s stare altered slightly as his eyebrows sunk. However, he still maintained his gaze.
“And I’m sorry, Lord Hammer Strike,” Twilight continued. “I’ll make sure to heed every warning from now on.”
“... You’ll get that book back later, but not for awhile,” Hammer Strike said. “Plus, I have a feeling I’ll be having this talk with someone else in the near future…” He sighed as he turned towards the door before pausing. “Hey, Luna, what’s a good way to store bits?”
“There’s always your bank account,” Luna suggested.
“I have a bank account?” He asked, cocking an eyebrow. “Or do I need to make one?”
“You made one during the Third Gryphon War,” Luna noted. “By now, you probably own the bank itself.”
After a long pause, Hammer Strike found his words. “... I’m going to have to check that. Probably now.”
Having deposited the book back at the tavern, Taze stood in the range near the border of the Everfree, casually taking shots at the targets there. The bits he’d glimpsed at from the book on the journey had nearly left his head spinning, but he should have expected this. It was Leonardo Di Vinci after all, the guy was into everything else. Why not be into magic?
Still, the possibilities left Taze wondering what their future looked like. Back home he’d always found a fondness for researching about the mystery Humans labeled as magic. More often than not it fell under a scientific principle yet undiscovered, but there were always those few points that nobody could explain. He chuckled as he took another shot with the flintlock. His aim was slowly getting better. Here he was wondering about something as mundane as Human magic when he had spent well over a month in a world inhabited by myths, legends, and all types of arcane mysteries.
The idea of Thaumaturgy being a possibility for them had left him wondering about Equestria itself and its secrets. Thaumaturgy was, from his understanding, the manipulation of energies that Shawn had called aspects, which seemed to carry the quality of things the world was made from. But what if there was more to know? What other mysteries did this country hold, and could any of them help with this new venture? He smiled wider as he took a second shot. This time the ball buried itself within the inner circle. He knew one thing; once everything was stable in the castle, he was going to get better acquainted with Equestria. He’d seen Ponyville and Canterlot. It was time he saw more.
Pensword looked around the ordered chaos that he called party preparations. He had been overseeing the setting up and decoration of the tables that would hold the food and punch. He also was excited to reveal the training camp’s new official motto. The location might change, but the unit would remain intact. He looked to his left, where Moonshade was overseeing the DJ booth and helping direct the stage setup for anypony brave enough to try his or her hoof at showing off. It was New Year’s Eve, and it was a time to just relax and enjoy.
“Ooh!” Pinkie grinned, looking around wide-eyed at the arrangements. It was a rare thing indeed in Ponyville for her not to be in charge of party arrangements, and contrary to popular belief, it was these times she enjoyed the most, observing and learning from how other Ponies would plan a party. After all, laughter comes from many places, and if Ponies working hard to make others happy helped spread that around, then that’s what Pinkamena Diane Pie would stand for. “Wow, you’re good!” Pinkie said to no one in particular as she approached Pensword. “Super duper job. Everypony’s going to love it!”
For once, Pensword smiled at the pink party Pony, unphased by how she seemed to magically appear. “I hope they do. Then again, I also hope to show Ponyville that Guard Ponies are more than the stone-faced statues you usually see in Canterlot.” He chuckled and shook his head. “Those Ponies have my respect. I doubt I could stay that still for that long.” He paused and chuckled. “Listen to me. I’m rambling to you. You, of all people.” He chuckled again. A loud clatter broke the moment as he swiftly turned to face one of the soldiers, who now sat on his rump with a tablecloth over his head. Pensword sighed and shook his head. “Don’t try leaning on tables like that,” he chided. “Now come on, Pinkie, let’s see about pulling some tables together. It’s going to be rather rustic, but we’ll get to learn what works for our carpenters to create better tables once we move.” He opened his wings and flew to where two tables had collapsed. Thankfully, they hadn’t been set yet.
“Have you tried asking Big Mac to give them some tips?” Pinky asked. “He’s a real good carpenter when he needs to be.”
“After we settle in on Tuesday, he’s going to come by and teach a few classes. We will compensate him, of course.” He chuckled as he lifted one end and Pinkie lifted the other as two of the cadets rolled empty shipping barrels under the flat wooden board and tipped them up. The two Ponies then lowered the board and another cadet draped a white drape over the top. “Pinkie, if you do not mind, I shall go take a look at how the food is going. Could you help finish up with the table sets while I’m gone, please?”
“Of course.” She smiled. “This story needs to move on anyway.” She hopped away, still smiling as she approached another set of floundering guards and immediately proceeded to lay a perfect table in mere seconds.
Pensword only stared and looked after Pinkie Pie. “Uh, okay…” He paused and shook his head. “I didn’t know she was writing a story.” He walked away, muttering with a confused look on his muzzle. In doing so, he didn’t see where he was going and bumped into Moonshade, who was walking out of the kitchens with a clipboard that most likely had a list of the dishes to be served during the course of the meal. “Oh, sorry, Pinkie Pike derailed my mind a second.”
“I’ve heard that's a thing with her.” Moonshade giggled. “So, how’s everything looking?” She asked
Pensword looked around one more time. “I think we can be ready for the start of the party at sundown tonight. Also, the entire town is invited, but they won’t all show up since many have private gatherings planned. The musicians will arrive in another hour, and,” he paused and knocked his hoof on the wooden floor. “Well, knock on wood that all of this goes off without any attacks or destruction of property. Also, I am mentally prepared for pranks, shenanigans, and other forms of mischief the troops may have planned tonight. Oh, and I think a few of the Humans got fireworks to set off at midnight.”
Moonshade snickered “What’s wrong with that? I thought you’d enjoy a little action in the middle of everything.”
Pensword looked flatly back. “I do not want any big events. I already went through that in Canterlot, thank you very much.”
“From the records, you seemed to enjoy the Thestral roughhousing at your wedding.” She laughed.
“Oh?” Pensword asked as he arched an eyebrow without realizing it. “Tell me, what is Thestral roughhousing? You’ve piqued my interest.”
“Our kind have always been ‘hot blooded’ as they say. In times of celebration, it’s common for some of us to wrestle or participate in other forms of hoof-based combat.”
Pensword smiled. “Then I’ll have to join in once I change out of my wedding tux. I have to admit Matthew never learned to wrestle, but he has seen it, so I think it might be fun to learn some of that during the new year.”
“So what is this tradition like in Matthew’s world?” She asked
“Weddings? Well, no roughhousing for one. Usually the celebration ranges from simple to grand. The kinds Matthew is most familiar with are ones where you stand in a church, and a religious leader marries the two in the sight of God. There's a reception afterwards and well wishes and gifts given to the new bride and groom to help them create a new start as a brand new family. Also, the religious leader signs a certificate that the state needs so that government can also recognize the wedding.”
“I kind of meant New Year’s Eve.” She laughed. “But that is informative. Traditionally, Thestrals come to the wedding bearing arms. The elder says a few words and then the bride and groom make their life oath to one another. Then they share a meal cooked from something they hunted.”
“Wow,” Pensword replied. “I like the armed part.” He chuckled as he closed his eyes. “As Matthew’s memories showed me, it is similar to this type of gathering. People come together; food is served with a little bit of alcohol, though non-alcoholic beverages are also provided for those who prefer it; a countdown leads up to midnight; and when midnight comes, fireworks and noisemakers are utilized to bring the new year in. Sometimes folks stay up later while others celebrate New Year’s on an earlier time zone so they can sleep. When all's said and done, I think it could be said that humans have diverse dates and methods of celebrating based either on the lunar or gregorian calendar. Traditions can vary from giving money and new clothing to what we are doing here tonight.”
“The Minotaurs believe the new year is a time for the renewing of old bonds and the forgiving of disagreements. It is generally a law of their people that wars between tribes must be settled before the new year,” Moonshade explained.
Pensword smiled. “Those must be short and brutal wars then. Still, I guess there were exceptions in the past. Still, it is nice to hear that the New Years is like that: strong enough to stop wars for a time. That triggered another memory from the human world. They hold a series of competitions every four years between nations. These games are called the Olympics. In the past, they were able to stop wars and conflict in the name of peace and friendly competition.”
“Personally, my favorite beliefs are those of the Zebra,” Moonshade said. “They believe New Years is a time to look back and appreciate what you’ve been given; to draw all into your home that you can, especially the poor, the sick, or the unfortunate. They do not let a single Pony leave their home without a pouch of food and a small monetary gift.”
Pensword blinked in surprise. “That... that is rather nice. I can see why you would favor it.” He sighed and looked to the ceiling. “I hope the other two are staying out of trouble so they can show up early to help start the party. I heard we are doing an opening ceremony.” He winked playfully at her.
“Last I heard, Grif was in his room reading while Taze went to the range,” Moonshade said. “As for Lord Hammer Strike, I haven’t heard anything about him or his whereabouts.”
“Oh, I’m sure he’s up to something somewhere.”
“And… the bank’s closed,” Hammer Strike muttered to himself as he turned back towards the Shields. “Looks like we’re headed somewhere else.”
“Shouldn’t you be be getting ready for the ceremony?” Blast Shield asked.
“Ready how?” Hammer returned. “I’ve pretty much got everything I need on me.”
“True. You don’t really wear much else.” Tower Shield nodded.
“So, rather than wander around for awhile, let’s head back to the tavern and, I don’t know, rest, talk, or do whatever, especially since Pensword is keen on keeping me out of the forge,” he said jokingly.
“Very well, my lord.” Tower Shield nodded. “To the tavern it is.”
Hammer Strike froze mid-step before looking to Tower. “Two sentences in a row. That’s a rare one from you two.”
The two shield brothers looked at each other for a moment before shrugging as they turned back to Hammer Strike. “It happens sometimes,” Blast Shield said.
After a short trip, they found themselves back at the tavern.
“You realize if chests of bits keep appearing outside your doors, they're going to start getting lighter, right?” Berry asked. “To pay for floor damages, of course.”
Hammer Strike chuckled. “I’ll get it moved soon. Nice to see you, too, Berry.”
“By the way, her ladyship's waiting in your room,” Berry said as Hammer Strike approached the stairs, causing him a brief pause before he continued up the stairwell towards his room.
Opening his door, he was greeted with the sight of Rarity.
“Oh, darling, I came over as soon as I could.” Rarity immediately jumped off the edge of his bed, where she had been sitting patiently. Next to her, several coats nigh identical to his own lay polished and pressed in various color schemes. “You simply cannot do the new years ceremony in your usual coat. It’s simply not right for a noble. I’ve done the best I could with what I know about you and your preferences. Hopefully we’ll be able to find something new for you.”
“Wonderful,” Hammer Strike said in his typical bored tone. His eyes roamed idly over the coats. The first was a bright (near blindingly so) orange with blue trim on it.
“No,” Hammer Strike immediately said upon seeing it as his eyes began to water every so slightly.
“Admittedly, I’m not sure what I was thinking with that one.” Rarity sniffed in disdain, swiftly tossing the offending argument away.
“What about this one?” Rarity offered a black coat with an almost blood-red lining to it. Gold buttons were sewed onto the front alongside Hammer Strike’s cutie mark embroidered in gold thread by the flanks.
“It looks quite nice,” Hammer responded.
“But what does it make you feel, dear?” Rarity asked. “Does it speak to you?”
“It makes me feel that others will not want to bother me, which is something I rather enjoy.”
She levitated it over to him. “Let’s see how it looks on you.”
“You do realize that will take awhile, right?” he questioned as he slowly began to remove the coat.
“Oh, I’m so sorry, darling.” Rarity's eyes widened as she remembered. “I completely forgot about your bandages.”
“No worries. They mainly restrict movement. I don’t honestly feel much of the pain anymore.” He finished pulling off the coat to reveal numerous bandages wrapped around his chest, upper legs, waist, and other parts.
“You look like you tried to take on a chimera bare-hooved.”
“I don’t know if I would come out this bad from that,” he chuckled in response. “Had I been equipped, that is.”
“You’re right. You probably could have brought down a chimera without getting so much as a scratch.” She laughed as she helped him into the coat.
“Who knows?” He smiled a little. “Who knows?”
A few minutes later, Hammer Strike was finally settled into the new coat, his other one having been set off to the side. “Comfortable,” he commented.
“I was doing some research on armor over the last few days,” Rarity said. “I believe I managed to not only cushion the coat, but by using the shaped leather I added in certain areas, it should be able to keep you somewhat safer in combat.”
“Comfortable and functional. Very nice. I’m impressed. Thank you, Miss Rarity,” Hammer Strike said.
“Well, there’s no reason why a stylish garment can’t keep you safe now, is there?” Rarity asked, her cheeks flushed with pride.
“It is surprisingly rare from what I have seen,” Hammer responded.
“If this proves successful, I may see how much farther I can go. Why, I’m sure a few heads of state would appreciate something safe they could wear to important events.”
“I’m certain of that happening, though some may be stubborn, as usual.” Hammer Strike replied. “But on to another matter. Rarity, would you be willing to accompany me to the New Year’s Party?”
Rarity blushed and backed into the bed frame, jumping slightly. “I-I’d be delighted to, darling,” she said behind her hooded eyelashes.
Grif checked himself carefully. The opening ceremony was supposed to be handled by the three heroes, so Taze had taken on his Gryphon form for the party. Rather than the whole set of heavy armor, he had decided on wearing a simple chestplate and pauldrons. On his back the two swords that Hammer Strike had made for him sat in their usual place. It had taken him a long time, but he’d finally settled on their names. They were now to be called Blood for the left one and Vinegar for the right one. He checked again that his throwing blade harness was secure and his ammo pouch and holster properly strapped. Lastly, he strapped his stilettos in place before he left the room.
Moonshade and Pensword hadn’t left the party site, Hammer Strike and Rarity were leaving as he’d arrived, and even Berry Punch and Ruby were gone. The tavern had an almost eerie feel to it as he left the building. With a grin he took to the air in the direction of the party. He flew towards the wooden walls of their makeshift fortress. In fact he saw that the main building had been spruced up. Well, at least the windows were open and freshly cleaned. He nodded approvingly as he eyed the tables that had been set out in the field. If anything, it looked like Ponies were making their way towards the building in a steady line, guided by the cheerful flicker of lanterns and torches strung up around the dining area. Everything was ready. He managed to land just a few feet outside the entrance.
Walking casually in, Grif saw Pensword standing near the stage as he stepped away from an old styled microphone. Clearly, he must have just performed a sound check. The Pegasus was dressed in a dress uniform, and as he stepped onto the floor Moonshade and Silver Spear stood up on either side as they talked. Behind the stage Grif saw a white banner with big red letters spelling out Ex Flammis Resurge.
“Evening, Pensword.” Grif nodded to various party goers and troops as he approached the Pegasus. “Everything looks very nice. You must have worked hard.”
Pensword only smiled. “We all worked hard. It was a team effort. I’m just glad we are ready with thirty minutes to spare.” He sighed. “One time we were preparing up to the last minute.”
“And where is our lord?” Grif asked. “He was already leaving the tavern when I entered it.”
“Right behind you.”
Grif was a Gryphon warrior trained for the most hazardous of situations. He jumped and made a sound not unlike a startled cat before turning around, finding Hammer Strike right behind him with his famous blank expression.
“Hello, my lord,” Grif said, straightening himself up. “You startled me.”
Hammer Strike chuckled a little. “I noticed. Glad to see you finally made it.”
“I had many things to think over and a chest of bits I had to move to a safer location,” Grif said. “Taze was nice enough to leave the manuscript with me, and I have been contemplating the first chapter carefully.”
“It is a lot to take in,” Hammer Strike admitted.
Pensword only blinked. “Well that is good; however,” he leaned in. “It feels like I am finally beginning to understand weather control. I created a cloud nest for fun yesterday. Also, I almost set off a lightning strike.”
“I must admit I find that magic has truly taken leaps and bounds since the trenches of the Third Gryphon War,” Grif said. “And yet the technology has suffered greatly from the empire’s fall.”
“Yes, but at least the medical field improved,” Pensword replied with a small smile. “I do not know about you, but I believe that we are where we need to be at the moment. We can improve things if we need to as time goes on.”
“So I understand you have acquired quite an entertainment list for tonight. Something about this new music. I believe you called it dubstep?” Grif asked.
“It comes from Pinkie Pie’s recommendation. I did invite a Canterlot Cellist as well for some classical music, but I must admit I am somewhat anxious about this newer style. I worry that it might not be good,” Pensword muttered.
“You never know till you try it,” Hammer Strike responded.
“Too bad we won’t be able to get any Minotaur folk music tonight,” Grif said. “They always have such a way with the guitar.”
“Maybe next year,” Pensword replied with a shrug of his wings.
“Perhaps Applejack can be persuaded to fiddle for us?” Grif asked.
“That would be interesting to see,” Hammer Strike said.
“And food, Pensword? I dare not hope you managed to sneak some meat in with the vegetable dishes?” Grif asked.
“The meat dish is in the kitchen for the Thestrals and yourself. Also myself and any Pegasus that might like to try something fishy,” he admitted. “I heard Princess Luna likes some of the meat dishes as well.”
“Thank you for your consideration, my friend,” Grif said, nodding.
“Of course. “To be honest, I have a bit of a love for meat as well.” He pointed a hoof to his fangs. “So I wanted to include all here. I also wanted to be prepared just in case a traveling Gryphon does pop by as well.” He winked. “I read that Gryphons do respect the New Years tradition. Assuming we live through the partying, we should have tonight and tomorrow to live without fear. Something about honoring surviving another year.”
“I’d rather hope not myself, my friend,” Grif noted. “I do believe that the temperature in the room would drop very quickly.”
Pensword nodded. “Yeah, still we have the clanless traveling through this area at some point, so I would rather be prepared than not.”
“When should we be kicking things off?” Grif asked.
Pensword looked to a wall clock. “Twenty five minutes from now,” he replied as they saw a certain Unicorn finally getting around to setting up a sound system . She didn’t even seem fazed that she’d arrived so late.
“And Pinkie Pie?” Grif asked. “I am rather shocked she’s not vibrating at the door.”
Pinkie Pie appeared out of nowhere, showering them with confetti and streamers. “Happy New Year’s Eve!” she shouted as she bounced to another group to do the same thing. She was vibrating, but doing so in a way that she got to meet every Pony to enter the grounds.
“Ask a stupid question ...” Grif mumbled under his breath. “And where is your lady, my lord? I know you left with her.”
“She is sitting down over at that table over there,” He said, gesturing towards Rarity. She was daintily sipping a cup of punch.
“So do we announce the move tonight?” Grif asked.
Pensword nodded. “I gave a warning yesterday for something tonight. After the midnight rockets fly we will announce that we move January second and third.”
“Then we’ll be there by January tenth, supposing everything goes smoothly.”
Pensword nodded. “Yes. Now if any of the other residents wish to give a hoof in blazing a trail, I wouldn’t mind, but we will eventually have to turn the trail we use into the main avenue into the settlement. I would rather not have to go back and create another one. Once is enough for the moment, especially with that forest. We can build it to branch off into other directions like a compass once we get to the old castle, but that is about it.”
“Probably a good idea,” Hammer Strike commented. “Making a good path to travel.”
“Honestly I wouldn’t want civilians mixed into this unless necessary,” Grif said. “Timberwolves bite hard.”
“I never said I would have them on the front lines, Grif. I thought they could be the ones to hold the deterrents, the smoked woods, fires, that sort of thing. It gives the guards more freedom to be on the perimeter to defend instead of taking those that know how to fight away from the sides and front and having them hold the items.”
“No one who can’t fight,” Grif said adamantly. “If they’re going to be out there, I want them to have a buck as strong as a bear.”
Pensword looked to Grif. “I guess, but we will have to talk more about this after the party. We, and I mean all four of us, need to open the festivities tonight. It is time.”
“After you.” Grif gestured with a sweep of a talon.
Pensword shook his head. “Right, no offense to you, Milord, but this is my domain as you placed me in, so I guess I shall lead us to the stage, where it will fall to Lord Hammer Strike to give the welcome and a few short words. Grif, Moonshade, you two will lay down any ground rules for sports and wrestling and other physically related activities. I shall start the meal with the official toast. Also, just to let you know, Princess Luna just arrived by way of the kitchens to allow a graceful late entrance. She wishes not to detract from our first opening ceremony in over a thousand years.” He gave a light chuckle before turning around, and started to walk towards the stage. The party soon faced a rather sizable crowd as they waited. After a time, Hammer Strike stepped forward and the chatter died down.
“Hello, and welcome to our first annual House Strike New Years celebration. It is an honor to see so many faces here tonight. I want to thank you all for coming, and I hope you all enjoy yourselves.”
Next Grif stepped forward. “Hello, everypony! Now I’m not really one for words, so how about a trick?” Grif looked into the crowd as a few called out and one or two stomped their hooves in excitement. Grif looked to Moonshade, who began tossing apples above the crowd. With a careful eye and a quick flick of the wrist, Grif sent a blade impaling the fruit sending it off course and landing in the hooves of different Ponies in the crowd. He gave a short bow as the crowd stomped and casually stood back.
Moonshade smiled as she took the stage. “So we have some ground rules tonight for those of us used to different traditions. First off, I’d like to remind the Thestrals in the crowd that meat will be served separately so as not to disturb any of the Ponies who may not be used to our customs. Secondly, any bouts, be they for fun, honor, or settling disputes, are to be handled within the designated areas. If fighting breaks out beyond those designated zones, the consequences will be decided either by your commanding officer, or in the case of civilians, by one of us. And finally, I would like to make you all aware that Pegasi and Thestral pranks involving rain, wind, or thunder clouds will not be tolerated this evening. Anypony found guilty of these offenses will be immediately barred from the celebrations. Thank you, and please enjoy yourselves.”
Pensword smiled as he stepped forward to join his friends. “Military custom states that I give some final orders. Tonight any challenges of lore or holdings of unit coins are not to be done. I do not want to find out that you used those rules to have civilians buy or pay the loser’s wage. Now, if the civilians ask, and wish to egg on the egos of knowledge, lore, or the like, far be it for me to say no to that. Also, as tomorrow is a day that Celestia has outlined for our unit to be off, the usual limits on number of drinks shall be dismissed. Mind you, I personally shall remain dry tonight. With that said, I do hereby give the first toast of the night to Princess Luna, Princess of the Night and patron of the celebrations held this evening all over Equestria.” He held up his glass of grape juice, raised it to the roof and took a sip. “Toasts are open now for the rest of the night till the stroke of midnight. Fall out, everypony. My last orders to you are to enjoy the night.”
A loud cheer arose from the crowd as the Ponies dispersed to their various activities of games, dancing, eating, drinking, and much more besides.
“Well, now that that’s done, I think I’m going to go get some food, then maybe I’ll find something to entertain foals or something,” Grif said, turning to leave.
Pensword nodded. “I shall mingle a little with troops.” He looked at a clock on the wall. “We’re at twenty hundred hours now, so yeah, have some fun. See you in four hours.”
“I’ll possibly stick with Rarity until she gets tired of dealing with me,” Hammer Strike said. he chuckled as he walked off.
As they left the stage, Grif casually passed by a grey mare with a purple treble clef cutie mark. Unseen by his friends, he casually gave her a wink before heading towards the kitchen.
Fifteen minutes later, Luna took the stage as the band finished setting up. “Good evening, my little Ponies!” she called to the crowd, who bowed graciously to their princess. “In honor of this new year, which has marked us with many great returns, mainly the Crystal Empire and our three great heroes. Because of this most rare of occasions when Gryphon, Unicorn, Pegasi, Earth Pony, Thestral and even a Zebra,” Luna said as she nodded towards Zecora, who lowered her head respectfully, “can sit together in peace and look forward to a new year, I have taken it upon myself to look for only the best of entertainment this year. As such, I have arranged a surprise tonight, a rare treat of a traveling Gryphon singer accompanied for one night only by the Canterlot Quartet, including the one and only Octavia Melody. Accompanying them tonight will be the famous DJ P0N3.” Luna gestured to the band, all of whom were currently dressed in black. “Now, it is my pleasure to present, for tonight only, Tobias Songbird!” Luna smiled, raising a hoof high as she backed to stage right. A spotlight shone on the parting curtain, revealing a grey Gryphon with a white head wearing a black suit and a fedora with a blue ring on it. The band began playing a surprisingly non-classical jazz themed number as the Gryphon walked to the end of the stage and took the microphone in his talons.
Pensword’s ears perked up in shock and he jerked his head to the stage, riveted by the familiar lyrics. “That is a song from Earth,” he muttered. “What are they planning?” He noticed Princess Luna walking toward their group. Her presence caused a stir amongst the crowd as the guards stiffened to attention before a casual stroke of the princess’ wing released them. The civilians bowed or started before Princess Luna motioned with her hoof to have them stand again.
“Taze was nice enough to play it for me a while ago,” Luna explained to Pensword. “I find it a rather enjoyable song, what with the theme of the cosmos and its beauty. I hope that it is not against Matthew’s taste?” She asked apologetically. Her eyes were bright and shimmering, though they also showed just a hint of vulnerability that would make any Pony’s knees buckle.
Pensword shook his head and tapped his skull with a hoof. “He enjoyed Frank Sinatra. He actually enjoyed this era of music over that of his own modern generation. I take it you enjoy it as it celebrates your own night sky?” he asked.
Princess Luna’s eyes sparkled. “It is traditional to dance on such occasions, is it not?” she asked. “Perhaps you would take the Lieutenant Colonel for a few steps to help other Ponies break the ice?” she suggested, motioning with a wing to a somewhat startled Moonshade.
Pensword blinked but realized that as the band wrapped up Fly me to the Moon, no Ponies were dancing, most likely because of the foreign music. “Of ... of course.” He gulped before turning to face Moonshade, who still looked just as shocked by the request. The two slowly moved to the middle of the floor. As they began to dance, Pensword pondered where Luna could have found this strange Gryphon. And why did his eyes seem so familiar?
The Gryphon smiled as he gripped the microphone. “Blue moon,” he crooned as the quartet broke into a slow ballad.
Pensword’s eyes widened in surprise. He smiled as he began to lead Moonshade around the dancefloor. Looking into her eyes, he smiled as some few bolder Ponies slowly joined in.
“I do find it fascinating how the Humans have applied their romance rituals to the sky,” Luna noted to Twilight quietly as they watched.
Twilight nodded in agreement. “It does kind of make sense when you think about it. From what Taze and the others have told me, Humans were once little more than hunters and gatherers during the day, so any social events would be around the dawn, dusk, and night times when they would cook and eat the food they gathered.” She gave a light smile as she continued, “It is interesting to see a society focusing social events around the night while Ponies grew up–” she trailed off as she realized where she was going. “Sorry, Princess Luna.”
“It is a pleasant change nonetheless,” Luna said with just a hint of a smile. “I see Ponyville has not found you a suitable mate yet, Twilight Sparkle,” Luna teased.
Twilight stared, completely taken aback. She stammered and stuttered as she struggled to regain her composure. Unable to find the words, she finally settled on focusing on the dancers and letting the comment drop. She could practically feel the satisfaction radiating off of Luna as they watched together. Her cheeks still burned.
Meanwhile, Hammer Strike and Rarity were sitting on the sidelines watching Pensword and Lunar Fang dance. Hammer Strike let his usual flat stare relax into a smile as he looked at the two.
“I’ve never heard music quite like this before, but I can see why Princess Luna enjoys it,” Rarity noted.
“Certainly a good choice,” Hammer replied.
“It is good to see those two in a bit closer proximity. They always seem so formal with each other. Seaswirl has been positively swooning over their love story for weeks.”
“I can picture others talking about it. They are rather close.”
“It’s the way they move, really,” Rarity noted. “They seem to always be in some kind of dance. First it starts with the way she reacts to his words or his movements, and then the cue returns to his side before he pushes things back over to her. It’s quite fascinating to see from a third Pony perspective.”
“I can agree with that.”
“I almost feel like this evening was being set up.” She chuckled, continuing. “Is someone playing matchmaker?”
“You would be surprised. Or not. Depends on what you expect for an answer.” He chuckled, smirking as he replied.
“I sense you know more than you’re letting on,” Rarity said.
“I know more than I technically am allowed to know.” He smiled as he turned towards her. “You just have to ask the right questions at the right time.”
“So you do know what’s going on then?” Rarity asked, raising an eyebrow.
“More than I should.” He chuckled, his attention shifting to Luna.
“Is the princess behind this?”
“Just remember. We have things yet to come, but is past for you,” he replied.
“I feel like I’m talking to Pinkie Pie whenever I ponder that, darling,” she admitted.
“Let’s just leave it at this then. Time is being a pain, and the three of us are traveling across it,” he answered back with a shrug.
They were silent for a time. Then Rarity broke the silence.
“So, how are you feeling, darling? Your wounds still tender?”
“Feeling better than I did after getting the toxin mostly cleared from my system.” Hammer Strike shrugged. “The only problem is restricted movement, really, though it can flare up sometimes.”
“Is there anything you need?”
“I feel as though I should be asking you that.” He chuckled a moment. “I am fine, thank you.”
“Nonsense, darling, you’re injured. I should be attending to you tonight,” Rarity said, shaking her head.
It wasn’t that noticeable, but his smile seemed to grow a little. “Thank you.”
Pensword and Moonshade continued to dance as another song ghosted through the clearing and into the night. Yet again, Frank Sinatra’s music sang full throated.
“I hope I haven’t been too much of a klutz with my dancing skills. I am still a little weak on dancing with four legs,” Pensword said with a chuckle.
“You’re doing fine,” she assured him. “I’m the clumsy one. This music is new to me.”
“Which is funny, because in world that Matthew is from, this is old music. This is music that…” he paused and seemed to ponder before bowing his head. “Cheeky little fellas,” he muttered before shaking his head. “No, they wouldn't do that.” He looked back up and at Moonshade. “Frank Sinatra, the singer that sang these songs, is usually associated with romantic style music.” He laughed softly. “However, if I know my friends, they would want to have at least one of his songs sung tonight.”
Before Moonshade could speak, the music had faded again. The Gryphon on stage spoke into the microphone in a deep voice. “Now fillies and gentlecolts, we are going to try a song that’s a little different. I hope you enjoy this. And you stallions out there, remember, you won’t know till you try.” As he spoke, the curtain pulled away to reveal a full band and orchestra waiting in perfect silence on their chairs.
“Percussion.” At the Gryphons words, the band began to play, each starting a different section of the music based solely on his words. “Strings.” The stringed instruments began their cue. “Winds.” The music really started going as the instruments blended. “Words.” With that, the Gryphon took a breath and started singing. “There you see her...”
Pensword widened his eyes in shock before smiling as he looked to the stand, but before he had a chance to say so much as a word, Moonshade took the lead and pulled him further onto the dance floor. She smiled a little at him. Pensword looked back at her. It was almost subtle as they switched leads while the tempo picked up. And as the music shifted, so too did their dancing. They slowed their pace again as the wind instruments took over.
“More Human music?” she asked as they moved.
Pensword nodded his head. “Yes, from a movie. Something a lot newer than Frank Sinatra.”
“It’s an interesting choice,” she noted.
Pensword nodded, not sure what music would do in this situation in Equestria. “Agreed. Now be ready, the tempo will slowly pick up once he starts singing again,” he warned.
“Well I hope you’ll be able to lead me through it,” she said as she smiled at him.
He only nodded as the singing started. True to his warning, the music picked up. While other Ponies tried to keep up, it seemed the couple were the only ones truly able to stay in rhythm with the music. Their dancing grew more feverish as they swirled and twirled until the song reached its final crescendo. Matthew and Pensword saw a small boat with a pair of figures beneath a sea of fireflies. Both knew that the small boat would capsize and the kiss would not happen.
Neither side had noticed, but as the song had been going on, their faces had drawn, ever so slowly, closer together. Both responded with wide eyes as their lips met quite suddenly, though Moonshade quickly melted into the kiss.
Pensword didn’t know why, but after a moment, he let it go. Things may be crazy, and he may very well be trapped in this shape for a while, but for now, with Moonshade, with those lips and those eyes, everything paled into utter insignificance. It was a moment that he would later admit that all worry, all fears about the future, his role in the war, just melted away. He wasn’t Pensword. He wasn’t Matthew. He was just there. He was being, and so was she.They didn’t notice as the music had faded to silence. They still didn’t notice as the Ponies began to stare. They were in their own little cosmos, and it was right.
On the stage, the Gryphon looked to Luna with a wink, mouthing, “mission accomplished.” Taking a gulp from a nearby glass of water, he went once again to the microphone. “Well, looks like we have some love in the audience, everypony. Ain’t that a kick in the head?” With that, the music kicked off again. “How lucky can one guy be?”
The two Ponies slowly pulled back from the kiss and without a moment's hesitation, they quickly took off on a fast swing dance. In fact, a few times the two commanders actually bucked in time. For the first time in a long time, the two old friends saw the worry and concern melt away from Pensword’s face, and he actually started to look younger during the music. Pensword and Moonshade both stood panting. Sweat had grown to a lather on their flanks, and they decided to duck out as the Gryphon came to the mic one more time.
“Well, everypony, it has been fun, but unfortunately I’m going to be leaving you. I have a long flight in the morning, but I’ll leave you with one last number.” He smiled, cueing up the band. The rhythm started slow with a more relaxed pace than usual. “And now the end is near,” he started.
Pensword and Moonshade sat at one of the tables as the song played through the open door. Both smiled as they listened. Pensword sighed as he drank deeply from his cup of punch. “I wish Grif or Taze were here. Not only would they meet another cool Gryphon, but I think they would enjoy the music that has been played here tonight.”
The Gryphon tossed his fedora into the crowd before vanishing backstage, and the band began to play something simpler. Several minutes later, Grif approached the two Ponies from the left carrying a piece of red velvet cake. “Hey guys, did I miss much?” he asked.
Moonshade blushed as she responded. “The musical entertainer was quite something,” Moonshade said. “A Gryphon like you, as a matter of fact. Sadly, he had to leave before you could see him.”
“Probably for the best.” Grif shrugged. “I don’t seem to inspire the best in other Gryphons.”
Pensword blinked in confusion. “Is it not okay to let a Gryphon enjoy the passing of one year to another? Or was that Minotaurs I am thinking of with the New Year’s event?” he asked. He shook his head. “Still, the crazy thing is this Gryphon knew music from Earth.”
“Earth music?” Gif raised a brow. “I’ve only ever shared a few songs with Vinyl and Octavia, but I don’t know any Gryphons.”
“Well, it has spread. Seems that the music is going to be the next hot thing. Music from an alien world, translated into Equestrian. Though I wonder how the Dragons would react to us singing Hakuna Matata in their noble language.”
Grif barely suppressed a snark. “So, did anything else happen in there?”
“It was so romantic,” a light purple Unicorn said wistfully as she walked by. Her mane and tail was two toned with light purple and dark blue and her cutie mark seemed to be a set of dolphins. “They kissed at the end of a song.” With that she wandered away from the party.
“Ooh.” Grif grinned at them. “So the dam finally burst, huh?” he asked.
Pensword could only blush and look down at the table. His cheeks flushed a bright red through his fur, even as a light smile tugged at the edges of his mouth.
Moonshade seemed unable to speak as she fiddled with her hooves. Grifs eyes could just pick up her blush under her dark fur.
“Heh. Well, congratulations you two,” he said, smiling as he took a forkful of cake.
Pensword only blushed more at the compliment. A small part of him was shocked he was having this reaction. Another part was outraged over the fact he could have kissed a Pony. After all, he was a different species from her. Well, he was a different species from her. Another part was afraid of Lunar Fang and what she might represent for him and his future. The last part of him, surprisingly, was actually okay with what had happened. With all these different thoughts running through his head together, he could hardly think, so he decided to do the one thing that made sense and focused on the sensations he’d felt when the kiss happened.
“Well the countdown should be starting soon,” Grif noted. “I’m heading back inside.”
They both jumped to their hooves. “We’re coming with you.” They both stared at each other and couldn’t help but smile sheepishly before looking to the doors. “Well I guess we should head in,” Pensword finished for the two of them.
They entered the room just as Luna stood up at the front and unfurled her wings. “Now, I shall start off the countdown.” She smiled. “TWENTY!” she shouted. Much of the crowd was pleasantly surprised to find she had toned down the Royal Canterlot Voice.
Grif chuckled uncontrollably as he looked up at the rafters. A walkway had been set up on the second floor to allow for extra seating. It was the perfect place to mingling after a ceremony. The two looked up. The crowd shouted, “FIFTEEN!”
Hammer Strike and Rarity smiled as they spotted Moonshade and Pensword together. They both could see something hanging from the ceiling and Hammer Strike leaned in to whisper something into Rarity’s ear. She smirked at Hammer Strike as her eyes focused on the two Ponies frozen in the entrance as they, too stared up. “TEN!” Rarity broke her gaze to steal a glance with Hammer Strike as he did the same to her.
Rainbow Dash and the other Element Holders were all gathered around the room as they raised almost empty mugs of cider and cheered out the numbers. Somewhere along the line Luna and Twilight had constructed a magical orb that was ticking down the wall towards the floor. “FIVE!” The ball had nearly reached the floor.
Hanging innocently from the ceiling was a single sprig of mistletoe dangling from a thread just over Pensword and Moonshade. Pensword blinked and smiled. He shouted, “ONE!” Immediately after, he leaned in and kissed her once more on her muzzle. They ignored the fact that the string hadn’t been tied to the rafter. The dim sheen of a coal black tail flicking over the edge of the rafters told exactly who Grif had entrusted this most important of tasks to. Locked in their kiss, Pensword and Moonshade hardly noticed as the ball touched the ground and exploded into a series of magical streaks of light and color. The loud whistle of fireworks accompanied the display, melding with the cheers of the crowd. The new year had come.
“Okay colts, listen up.” Taze said as he stood before his men eyeing them carefully. “Today we head out on what will be a journey just over a week. Behind us are other guards, equipment, and most importantly, civilian ponies. We are going ahead cause I have done my best to ready you colts for combat first and with this knowledge we shall be the advanced guard. Our job is to keep ahead and keep alert. If something looks like it’s gonna go after the group and you spot it, I want it dead and I want it done without slowing us down. Am I clear?” He looked at the assembled ponies. They were far from Shining Armor’s elite guard but they had cleaned up considerably since their first meeting.
“Sir.” They echoed in unison. Their formation had its flaws, but it was a heartfelt attempt and their forms were good.
“This is real combat, gentlemen. You will fight. You can get hurt. You can get killed. But if you let anything get by, then you can be damn sure the next colt isn’t going to be half as ready for it as you are. You are the guard, gentlecolts. You have put your lives forward should the common pony need it. And should it be asked of you, know that you will be honored. I’m damn proud of each and every one of you. So come on, the next round on me for anypony standing before me in a week.” He shouted as he placed his closed fist to his shoulder. “TOGETHER!” he shouted.
The guards mimicked the gesture and the shout.
“Half an hour, gentlecolts. Be back here and ready to go in thirty minutes.” He ordered before turning away from the group. “Dismissed.” He said as they started to break.
Pensword stared out over his own group. It was January second; a new Year. And while it was cold, and they were up before Luna went to bed and Celestia rose to bring the sun, he smiled. “Men.” his voice carried over the grounds. “Guards, you are to protect the civilians. I want a cordon around them as we move. I also want you to help clear the road as well. The advance guard is going to clear what has not been removed already. Yes, we have been chopping to the castle since we started the lumber company, but this time we need to move fast. I want those with magic to rip stumps out of the ground, roll trees out of the way, and help create a wall with the fallen lumber. Behind us shall be Lord Hammer Strike who will be leading the supply train and carts for building up the castle and establishing the new camp. Fort Necessity shall remain in our control till Fort Everfree is constructed. Any injured shall be teleported back here. Also, Civilians shall remain in their groups. DO NOT,” he emphasized the two words. “LET them out of the ring. Also, the Cutie Mark Crusaders shall be with Hammer Strike’s group. IF you see them in our area, escort them to one of our supply carts and inform Hammer Strike by dragon fire. Spike shall be with him mostly, along with Twilight Sparkle. I do not need the Element Holders racing around the forest looking for them.”
Pensword paused a moment, then nodded his head. “Fall Out. We leave at Dawn. So eat chow NOW!” He turned around and walked off the platform towards Moon Shade. They both blushed as they made eye contact, looking quickly away while nodding their heads in respect. Still, try though he might, Pensword couldn’t keep a smile from his muzzle at the memory of their kiss.
“Moving day.” Moonshade sighed as she observed the groups breaking.
Pensword nodded. “Yeah, it feels strange, sad even, that we have to leave this fort. We did so much to practice and build. I am just… We have been sharing the same room for protection. And after the black tips, I don’t blame anypony. Still, I’m looking forward to the castle. We can set up the rooms and a proper bunking situation.” He smiled a little sheepishly. “I’d kind of like to have a space that I can call my own.”
“It’s going to be a long trip.” She noted. “You ready for it?”
Pensword nodded his head softly. “So we have enough tents for the move?” he asked as he looked around the grounds. “Please tell me we have enough tents to all have one.” he shook his head. “Still, this is going to be in Matthew’s element. The forest, nature on its own, weather on its own. All of it out of our control. I like it.”
In yet another part of the grounds another meeting was taking place. “Alright, listen up.” Hammer Strike called out to his group. “We are within the inner circle, while that means you may think there will not be much action, don’t plan on it being easy. Should anything go wrong, this is it. That means I do not want to see those who are guarding slacking off on defense. Most of you here will be helping either with moving the supplies, or keeping an eye out.” He said, looking over all before him. “Most of you know your job, I will not repeat it to you. You are all ready, this I know. We leave tomorrow at Dawn.” He said with a small smirk as he looked over everyone. “You are dismissed.”
Thirty two minutes later Taze stood before his men, who had shifted into a large rectangle formation with Black Rook standing at the head. Sylvio sat happily beside Taze as he looked at the men who waited anxiously to get started. “Weapons at the ready.” He said.
Short swords, spears, daggers, and at least one bow were all drawn and held ready. “Remember to pace yourselves, boys, we don’t stop till the messenger comes to tell us a halt has been called.” Ge drew his blade and turned. “Forward, brothers.” He ordered. And the column moved forward.
An hour later, the pace had slowed slightly as the guards marched on, not yet tired but most looking rather bored from the long periods of silence. A bush rustled briefly and the bowman reacted instinctively. When Taze checked he found a brown parasprite pinned to a tree. Shaking his head he ordered the men forward.
They had yet to reach the end of the trail, which surprised a few ponies. Unbeknownst to them, a platoon of guards from the lumber company had gone off the night before, working themselves to the bone as they struggled to clear the path, felling trees without rest while leaving the stumps behind for magical clearing. The march continued and a half hour later they heard the sound of trees falling, the pony team’s bucks and axe strokes echoing through the silent forest, each tree’s crack and creak as it fell a death cry.
The sun slowly peaked over the horizon as Pensword looked at his formation. The path clearers were stationed at the front of the box. Behind them more troops stood at the ready, weapons drawn as they surrounded the ponies that would help grade and set up the fort to be built. These civilians had brought a few blades with them as well, just in case. The last couple of days Pensword had been training them in simple self defense. They wouldn’t be prepared to hold their own in a real battle, but against the creatures of the forest they’d at least stand a chance of surviving.. Signaling the troops with a nod of his head the unicorns in the middle began using their magic their magic to beat at the ceremonial drums they wore about their necks. The formation jerked to the beet and began to march out of the fort, swiftly falling into the rhythm as they turned their backs on their temporary home for the last time, Marching to a new base camp and their next step in training.
Pensword stood, or rather hovered, in the air, scanning the road ahead of them. He knew the dirt trail would eventually become cobblestoned, but that would be years in the future. He focused on the here and now, continuing the march. It was a slow pace, slower than Taze’s unit. Still, they worked hard, pressing forward. Progress was slow, steady, and uneventful for which Pensword was grateful. At midday, he called a forced break due to the civilians’ request to stop for lunch. What followed was a half hour of cold food, which still irked Pensword. He should have had his men on the road in fifteen minutes. Still, he pushed back his annoyance and allowed the thirty minute break for the civilians from Canterlot. It was mid-afternoon, about three thirty judging by the sun and his own reckoning, when they met the first stump in the road. Without a word his troops reformed ranks and began to tear out the stumps while shifting tree trunks to the side to begin forming the one base of the wall they had planned against the forest to protect travelers from attack. It would be finished later. At the moment, priorities were set on making room for the caravan of supplies. They had to get them to the castle as soon as possible. They worked hard and at a good pace while the civilians watched. They did not stop at night fall. Princess Luna had provided a large full moon for them to work with and its light allowed them to keep working well into the night.
Pensword had not issued a single order the entire time. He would fly to one part or another, give words of encouragement, or walk with a few soldiers to boost their spirits, and even got into a small competition to show he could also pull a stump. He managed to pull one, but the other troops beat him with three. While it showed he was willing to do the work of others, the Sergeant Major asked him to keep an eye on the civilians. Still, he and Moonshade were both busy towards the end in just keeping things moving.
When the call came to bunk down it took another thirty minutes to set up camp. They were soon going to bed. However, a collective groan was uttered by the civilians as they were shocked to hear they would be rising at dawn to start the day all over again.
Taze’s group bunked down a little ways from Pensword’s so that half his men could watch over Pensword’s ponies, who had been hard at work for most of the day. They ate sparingly from their supplies and slept in shifts of five.
Taze spent the night leaning on a tree staring down the way ahead. Sylvio was at his feet. something seemed off. It had been quiet the whole day. That parasprite was the only thing that had crossed their path that could even be considered an annoyance. He couldn’t help but feel there had to be something on the horizon with the way things had been going.
As the morning dew began to collect on the grass Taze rose to his feet. Shaking Rook awake, he spoke the order. “Come on I want to be ready to go by first light.”
Rook gave a yawning confirmation as he got to his hooves before heading to wake the men.
The morning was just as unnerving as the previous day. The whole time they found no signs of predatory animals nearby. Taze ordered an early lunch break in order to find Pensword. Now was the time for things to get tricky.
They stood on the brink of manticore territory.
The morning frustrated Pensword as he could not get the civilians on schedule. They took their sweet time eating their breakfast. It was an hour past dawn when they finally started to move out. Thankfully, those that were in charge of clearing the land had started before dawn and things moved forward quickly. A few of his scouts made contact with Taze’s men about mid morning. By lunch they had moved forward a good mile. Pensword grinned. He was excited at how powerful Unicorn Magic could be when used as a team. He was also pleased to know that he had not yet caught up with Taze. He did not know how far back Shawn’s group was, but for now, Feathersword was trying his best to keep moving forward, maintaining their pace by having everypony eat on the move.
Pensword looked to Moonshade. “Remind me to reward the men for keeping to the timetable. Also, let them enjoy a hot meal when we reach the castle. They have grown by leaps and bounds since they first arrived in Ponyville.”
Moonshade only nodded as she kept looking forward. The two were keeping close but also trying their best not to acknowledge the kiss on New Years Eve. Still, she had to say something. “Agreed. The princesses are actually thinking of keeping them stationed in the Everfree for the moment. I feel that the two are planning something, I do not know why, but they are not giving any indication of when they might want to call their retraining finished.”
It was here that a guard flew down from above. “Sir Taze requests your presence for something up ahead, sir.”
Pensword only nodded in acknowledgment. “Moonshade, please stay here and keep watch over the men. Make sure that we keep moving forward. Other than that, I shall be back shortly once this meeting finishes.” He watched as the guard took off again, flying further back along the caravan. Most likely he’d be getting Hammer Strike next.
“Remind me again why you four are currently on my back?” Hammer Strike said, taking a small glance behind him.
“Because we are naturally drawn to trouble?” Dinky offered with a smile that had caused many a heart attack.
“Sounds about right.” Hammer Strike replied after turning forward again. The crusaders had taken the idea of using him as a ride, one of them even had a telescope and was using his head as a high point. He was currently wearing a cape made by the crusaders, both by request, and because he figured they would probably like standing on it rather than his armor. Glancing partially up he was able to see some of the telescope over his head. “How is that working out for you?”
“Well,” Sweetie Belle replied with a small grin that Hammer Strike could hear. “I can see trees, some more trees, and a trail ahead. Though we are moving at a good clip.” She paused and he felt her body shift from on top of his head. “Applebloom am I doing this correctly?”
“Yeah,” Scootaloo replied as Applebloom worked on a sketch, distracted for the moment. “Just remember I get a try in an hour.”
“Wonderful.” Hammer replied in his typical monotone tone. “Any news?” He called out.
“Taze has requested you and Sir Pensword join him to discuss something ahead.” A guard called back after a few moments.
“Alright.” He replied turning a little towards the crusaders. “You know what that means.”
“We get to go with you?” Applebloom asked with hope and excitement.
“As long as you stay on my back, perhaps…” He thought on it for a moment. “How far are they from us, front line or closer to the middle or inner circle?” He questioned the guard.
“Sir Pensword has just rendezvoused with Taze near the middle line.” The guard answered after confirming.
“That means we’re mostly fine.” He muttered, mostly to himself. “Alright. I guess you can come. But you know what the rules are.”
Dinky only smiled. “Remind us again, please?” her voice Hammer Strike could not yet tell if she was asking in a real question or being a little like her father in just asking questions. He could feel movement but the four fillies had yet to fall off his back.
“I will keep it nice and short. One: stay on my back. Two: if I say to do something, it usually means I say it for a big reason so if I tell you to do something, do it alright? And three: I did not think of a three because one and two cover the basics.”
“That’s fair.” Dinky shrugged.
“I did not hear an agreement from all.” He said.
The three other CMC chimed in. “We promise not to break the rules.” They sang before Scootaloo chimed in for herself. “Can I have the look out spot?”
“Sure, you might see something more exciting then I have.” Sweetie Belle responded as she and Scootaloo swapped.
“Off we go.” Hammer Strike mumbled, again mainly to himself as he started towards the meeting with Taze and Pensword.
“So,” Applebloom asked with interest around her. “What happens at these meetings you hero types have all the time?” She blinked. “It must be important. Whenever my sister meets with her friends on important stuff it’s always about saving the world.”
“I am pretty sure we aren’t going to be saving the world any time soon.” Hammer Strike chuckled.
“Famous last words.” Dinky said looking at him.
“Do not remind me.” Hammer Strike noted as he looked back to the group with a small smile. “Plenty to do.”
“Plenty to do what?” Scootaloo asked in confusion. “What are you going to do?”
“Well the castle has a lot of work that needs to be done to it.” He replied.
Applebloom only blinked. “Oh, that sounds like fun. Do you think we can help?” she asked with a curious tilt of her head, he could feel that tilt even. “Because we are good at some stuff.”
“As much as I would love that-” He chuckled. “I do not think your families would enjoy you being out here for so long.”
“But Applejack is going to be out here, at least,” Applebloom began to whine, “At least for the weekend. Please?”
Sweetie Belle, Hammer Strike could feel, just moved a little. “I can hear my sister already.” What followed was a rather impressive mimic of her sister’s voice. “Oh my, just what did you do to my sweet Sweetie Belle? Covered in filth and tree sap. Do you know how long it will take to clean her fur now?” This only brought laughter from the small group on Hammer Strike’s back.
“I’m positive I would not hear the end of it.” Hammer chuckled along.
“Hear the end of what?” A new voice asked as Hammer Strike looked up to Pensword hovering in the air as he smiled. “I see you are keeping the CMC Safe. Good.” He stated rather bluntly.
“Are we sure we’re not wasting resources having them with you? They could probably do more to the forest then Pensword’s group ever could.” Grif chuckled as he approached. The gryphon’s face became somewhat more serious. “So as I told you guys earlier were about to enter the territory of the forest’s resident manticore.”
“Wonderful.” Hammer Strike said sarcastically.
“Did you send Fluttershy in front to calm him down and maybe lead him in another direction for a time?” Pensword asked with a raised wing. “Because I think Fluttershy could help deal with the Manticore without problem.”
“I didn’t.” Grif admitted. “But we should be alright as long as we keep close together. We should travel in more compact units though with torches. Don’t give it a reason to try anything and don’t give it a weakness to exploit either.”
“No, I hereby deny you even access to the forest, I shall not be chasing you into the forest while you try some Manticore taming cutie mark.” Pensword muttered as he looked at the four Crusaders.
Scootaloo only yawned. “Why bother? We tried it once already last year.” She turned her head. “Though Timberwolf tamers sounds fun.”
“No,” Sweetie Belle cried out. “No more tree sap, just, just no.”
Dinky only nodded her head. “I would agree that at the moment with the amount of trees around I would rather not tempt the halls of fate any more with our chance of getting Tree Sap into our fur.” She smiled at her friends. “I agree with Sweetie Belle.” She ended while the others nodded their heads.
Pensword just looked at the four, then to Grif. “I do not know what to feel at hearing they already tried that before, or the fact that Dinky just, well…” he looked to Grif. “Reminds me of someone we both ran into.”
“No risk no reward?” Grif shrugged. “Anyway we should be minimizing our rest stops and the times, the sooner we’re out of this area the better.” Grif noted.
“Name the time and we shall get a move on.” Hammer Strike replied.
“Let them finish this early lunch and then we’ll start. From here on out this is a military convoy. The civies will have to suck it up.” Grif noted. “Time is too valuable to waste.”
Pensword only nodded. “Will do my best.” He grimaced. “Even prodding this morning military voices did not make them move any faster.” He sighed. “Still I will do my best.” He did not look happy behind him. “Don’t let this out but I have been giving them the same rations as my men and they still finish last.” He snorted in annoyance. “Look Grif I shall move as quickly as I can but I do not know if some of those city planners could actually keep up the march. Do we have any wagons that they could ride in if needed?”
“How much spare wood do we have?” Grif asked.
Pensword blinked . “We have felled trees, we have lumber in three of the ten carts being pulled. Why do you ask?” He paused. “You got something planned for the civilians don’t you?” A small smirk forming on Pensword muzzle that looked just a tad unnerving.
“How long would it take to round out the bottoms of several logs and make them into a platform? We could tow them along.”
“It would take some time, if you want a stable one that is.” Hammer Strike noted. “Though with the carpenters in my group, perhaps less time. Couple hours possibly.”
“It would be faster than having them stop every few minutes and if we delegate the pulling to shifts it shouldn’t exceed too much of what our men are used to.”
Pensword only nodded. “Start work then.” he paused and looked to the four on Hammer Strike’s back. “You four stay here, and maybe build your own little sled to ride in?” he asked. He smirked. “Let’s see how fast you can make one compared to the others… a little race I think.” he grinned as he looked to Grif. “What do you say?” he hoped he caught in that this would hopefully keep the CMC out of trouble.
“I might know of the location of some candy for the winner.” Grif gave Pensword a wink.
Hammer Strike didn’t get a chance to respond as the Crusaders cut him off. “Cutie Mark Crusader Sled Builders, Yay!!”
The two could only watch as Hammer Strikes expression didn’t change, but his ear seemed to twitch slightly at the noise.
Pensword could only smile at the excitement. “Well then, I shall leave you be, and I shall have my men pause to build the sleds. That might take a little time but rather spend a half day for building an easier time travel means. Still, we camp for the rest of the day for a dawn travel? Also we will need to travel slower, we are still building a cheap road and chopping down trees.”
“Alright then. We should head back now and get building.” Hammer Strike said.
“I’ll send some men over to assist. The rest of us are going to form a perimeter.” Grif said.
Pensword looked out over the small camp, They had pulled down the tents and moved forward towards Taze’s camp while the ponies who were in charge of debris disposal, were still clearing the trail. He looked out over how the sleds were coming and the snow log canoe the CMC had created. He smiled and chuckled a little as, at the moment, they were conspiring about something. He had a gut feeling who they were going to try and get to pull their snow canoe. He paused and looked back at Moonshade who had come up from behind him. His hearing must be improving. Still, he surprised her when he turned as she had been trying to sneak up on him.
“How are the civilians?” He asked before turning back to the other sleds being constructed. “Did they get told that they will have a platform from which they could sleep on if they wanted?” he shook his head. “I am shocked at what the men drew up in the given time… it will be crude, but should last till we reach the chasm.”
“They are beginning to complain about the wait.” Moonshade sighed. “Not happy with anything it seems.”
Pensword nodded as he rustled his flight feathers. “I think because they are the ones used to being in charge.” he sighed. “Still, as they were sent by her royal highness Princess Celestia, most likely they are the best in their fields. We will have to deal with their complaints. I just hope they get to be happy once they are in charge of their departments moving stone and wood around.” He stepped into the snow. Snow that had started to be tramped down from the day’s activities. “Still. Keep my appraised over their attitude, and if needed, place them on the sleds when they are sleeping so we can just keep moving.” he paused and blinked. Matthew was never this impatient. He paused, reflecting. It must be the Pegasus side of him that was feeling the irritation of the moment.
“I just hope Grifs plans work. It would be nice not to have so much lost time.” She noted.
Pensword only nodded. “Same here. Also, I am happy that it is keeping the CMC Busy…” he paused and blinked. “Please tell me that I did not see Applebloom with a lasso heading towards Lord Hammer Strikes tent… and the other three pushing their completed log sled.” He paused and looked to the others. “Lt. Colonel, The CMC finished first. Is this the magic of markless ponies in search of a cutie mark?”
“I wish I knew sir.” Moonshade sighed. “I wish I knew.”
Pensword only nodded his head. “That appears to be a question not only we have been asking. Still, should we keep an eye on those four?” he finished as he looked to where they had turned around a corner and out of sight.
“To be fair sir, it was you who proposed we bring them along for the trip.” Moonshade pointed out.
Pensword paused and stared flatley out into the tents. “I know Moonshade, and I worry if it was the right thing to do, either bring them along with full permission or risk having them sneak along with us. Secondly, I felt it might be nice to give the town a break from their antics. I have heard about quite a few of them.”
The next thing they saw Hammer Strike walked out with a lasso around his torso a flat expression marked his face, this time though, it seemed marred by a slight frown. Applebloom sat on his back holding the other end of the lasso, an exultant smile on her face.
Password looked on in total shock. “How did they manage to get a lasso around his torso?” he asked to no one around but Moonshade heard him still. “Uh, you okay? You want any help there, Milord?” he called out taking a step forward toward the scene.
“No, no. This will… help keep them out of trouble.” Hammer Strike replied, giving a small sigh afterwards.
“Well this is certainly something for the history books.” Moonshade smirked as she looked at him. “Lord Hammer Strike pulling a sled full of foals.”
“Still waiting to read my history.” Hammer Strike replied, heading towards the rest of the Crusaders.
“Do you wish to have me fetch one of the history books for you to read?” Pensword asked while Hammer Strike continued his slow walk towards the other three Cutie Mark Crusaders and their sled. However he paused to speak to Pensword, as he leaned in a little.
“I’m apparently still waiting until I turn them back in.” He whispered to Pensword.
Pensword blinked and turned his head. “Well there's one chapter in my history book about the first meeting between Hammer Strike and Pensword you can read if you want.” he whispered back.
“I’ll take a look at that later, possibly tonight.” Hammer Strike replied.
“Please do. The book is in my chest, and Moonshade has been guarding it.” he smiled. “I think you will find it informative.”
“Hopefully so.” Hammer chuckled before finally turning and heading towards the sled made by the Crusaders. They stood, patiently waiting for his approach.
“Well we lost some time building that sled, but if I’m right the palace should only be about a days march ahead.” Grif noted “If we keep going straight we could be camping at the bridge’s edge by sunrise.” Grif, Pensword, and Hammer Strike were again meeting at the center of the march. “You think the guards would be up for an all night march?” Grif looked to Pensword.
“I would say yes they are. I think we can all be happy to finally reach our destination at dawn. Let the smiths and those that are going to build the bridge extension rest tonight in the wagon sleds. They can start work at dawn.” he looked to Hammer Strike. “If that is well for you that is, milord.” he finished with a bow before turning to Grif. “Still, we will need to keep chopping and clearing the road. We have a rude road built at the moment, come spring with the melting snow, we shall work to improve it.” he paused. “I spoke of the future plans, short answer, yes we all can do an all night march if needed. Just keep at the pace we are going.” he looked around. “The men and I are still unnerved we have faced nothing during this trip, not a single beast.”
“You’re unnerved?” Grif raised an eyebrow, “I killed six timberwolves last time I made my way through here and we had a open fire right there, for being desperate you’d think they’d have attempted to at least hunt us, but nothing.”
“Right. So we stay on guard and hope that something does not happen and we can just stay on this. Well I am unnerved now, so shall we get to moving? Also, do you want me to make the announcement to my troops?”
“Announce what, that we are suspicious of the silence? They all are too and admitting it out loud just makes us sound paranoid.” Grif said. “The sooner we’re out of the woods, the better.”
“NO.” Pensword muttered a little louder then he had wanted. “That we are doing an all night march.” he sighed and looked at the other three. “They should know we are going to do that.”
“Oh yeah, that, of course.” Grif said. “Taze has gone on ahead so I’ll be taking command of the front line for now.” The gryphon winked at them.
“Then let’s get to it.” Hammer Strike said.
Pensword nodded. “Right, fall out and let’s get moving. Forward March.” he spoke with a grin before turning around and trotting over to his men his men where they could already hear him giving orders. They did catch one sentence. “You can all sleep on your sleds if you want, maybe it will help you sleep better, with it reminding you of the cradle of your mothers.” he shouted before his voice dropped to indistinct verbal noises.
Grif nodded to Hammer Strike before taking to the air. Within a few flaps of his wings the gryphon made his way back to the front. He looked at Rook and nodded.
“Well colts, it looks like the night march got approved.” Rook turned to the guard. “There’s no stopping till we reach the palace.” The guards murmured happily at the prospect. Like Grif, they too found something to be off about the entire situation and didn’t want to spend a night longer than necessary within the confines of the forest.
Grif spent the next few minutes checking his bandoliers and weapon harness,making sure everything was well within a claws reach at all times. He took a moment to clean and check over his flintlock until he heard Renati let out a shriek, signaling the move. With a smile he gestured forward to Rook who ordered the line to advance. Taking to wing the gryphon flew above them at a relaxed pace just under the high branches, keeping an eye on the path in front of them.
Hammer Strike, on that note, was on his way back towards his group, his eyes still wandering the forest around him as he walked. He could see the CMC already waiting with their sled, all bundled up and it seemed one of the cooks had mugs of warm drink for them. His nose told him hot chocolate mostly. He only blinked, knowing what he was going to do next.
Pensword smiled as they marched and sure enough, while the snoring was audible from the civilians sleeping on the sled, they were making progress again. He looked to the night sky that Luna would paint every night and paused, blinking in shock. “Woah, the Aurora.” he muttered before realizing something. “I guess the Crystal Heart was activated or something.” he chuckled to himself as he was just happy they could be moving.
Grif smiled as he saw Pensword’s men starting to arrive out of the Everfree. He had his small group of guards cross the normal rope bridge to allow more room for the camp. He waved as the commander appeared from the trees.
Pensword only smiled as he took to the air and landed next to Grif. A second later Moonshade landed as well. “Well we made it and the civilians are still asleep. Thank goodness. We can start building the walls and defenses after a short rest. As well as crossing the chasm.”
“And getting the gate open.” Grif noted the currently crumpled portcullis.
“I am sure Hammer Strike can kick it down.” Pensword muttered.
“You told the men to set up tents and get some sleep?” Grif asked. “We shouldn’t need a guard. The animals seem to fear the palace.”
“We could leave Rook in charge and the three of us could go in and take a look around.” Grif said.
“I am going with you this time.” Moonshade replied with a glare at Grif. “I am not losing any of you,” Grif could see she was glaring at Pensword as she made that comment. Still, she eyed the walls carefully. “I think the three of us can carry Hammer Strike over the wall and into the castle.” She paused and smiled. “Or use that natural breach in the wall over there.” She pointed to the hole in the wall.
Pensword only smiled. “I like that idea. Scout out the area for when we move in and the like. I think we can use a little exploration anyway. That way the others won’t be so scared of this place.” He smiled a little. “It is just a ruin after all.”
Grif smiled, raising his wings. “Lieutenant.” He called to rook. “You are in charge until either we return or Lord Hammer Strike arrives.” He ordered. “We are going to do a quick forward scout.”
Rook nodded. “Yes sir.” He responded.
Grif looked to Pensword. “Shall we?” He asked.
Pensword paused. “Shouldn't we wait for Lord Hammer Strike?” he asked the two airborne ponies before he took to the air to keep talking to them. “Or do we want to make him worry about us, again.” he deadpanned.
“Rook will let him know where we are. Everything will be fine, I’ve been here before. It’s not like there‘s anything dangerous waiting for us.” The gryphon laughed as they crossed the walls and landed in the courtyard.
Pensword paused and flew to a tree in the courtyard, knocking on it. “Please don’t say that.” he asked, glaring at Grif. “You did not just say that.” he muttered darkly as he looked around the courtyard. “Since you were here before, where do you wish to start, leader?” Pensword asked with a sigh. “Still, we should try to stay together.”
“Let’s head for the first staircase and then down to the lower level, there are things you have to see.” Grif smiled.
Moonshade paused as she landed next to Pensword. “Really? I guess we should be on our way?” She asked as she looked to Pensword. “Also, don’t worry too much, you are a general. And yet to go back in time. I think you will live to see tomorrow.” She smiled as she started to trot after Grif. Pensword paused for a second before racing after her. She smiled as she heard his hoof steps. “At least here we can have that talk about parting ways.” She muttered to herself.
Pensword looked around and nodded. He was thinking of the same thing, of saying that he was going to see if she was okay to be transferred. That kiss had caused something to change, and he was not sure if he could face seeing her after marrying Lunar Fang.
“Now when we get to the next level I should let you know there are traps down here but none of them are fatal, if anything they seem to be something Celestia or Luna made up to prank the other.“ Grif explained. After a few minutes he stopped to take a torch off the wall and light it. Leading them carefully, he stopped to face Clover the Clever’s statue and her entourage of weeping pegasi “I think it would be appropriate to pay some respects here.” He said stopping for a moment.
Pensword only paused and bowed his own head in respect to the magic unicorn. Momentarily closing his eyes as well as part of it.
None of the three sets of eye’s present took notice that under the two foremost pegasi hooves the stone was chipped and broken as though the statues had been removed and replaced.
Pensword raised first and smiled a little. He looked forward to finding a way to revert Clover to flesh again. Still he turned to his friends. “I see that glint Griff, you have a place you want to show us. Well, lead on.” he paused and turned back to the stone statues. “Before I get any more paranoid about these things.” he shook his head turning towards one of the back stairwells. “Well come on, or I might fly down this shaft to start exploring.” He muttered looking over the edge. As a human he would have been scared of the black void, as a winged creature he knew he could just open his wings and using a little bit of Pegasus Magic he would be fine if he fell over.
“Yeah, it’s this way.” Grif signaled as he headed down the southern corridor, as they turned and left none of them noticed the two front statues now posed with their hooves down.
Pensword only nodded as he turned to follow Grif, shaking his head. “Well, any hints? You kept saying you wanted to show us something the entire march here, can you give us one hint to what you found down here?”
Moonshade only snickered a little, before blinking at the sound. “Well,” She began. “It might be something about the history that is have to see it to believe it type thing?”
Grif just smiled knowingly as he led them down the corridor, he turned to the right and entered the first room and his face dropped. “Why of all the times now?” He said. As they approached they noticed a finely decorated room with many pieces of art lining it. At the end of the room there was some sort of platform leading to a picture, however said picture was currently obscured by a large blue box claiming to be a police box.
Moonshade blinked and paused. “You wished to show us a small blue rectangular box that says something about the police? What an odd thing to find in an old castle.” She blinked as she looked over to Pensword who just froze. He slowly looked behind him. “What is wrong Commander?” her voice showing a bit of fear she did not realize creeping into it.
Pensword looked at the way they came and the calm silence. “Grif…. what usually happens when others see a blue box like this? I mean the Doc wants us to see it, so it means something, just, is it good or bad?”
“It means I can’t show you guys the picture behind it until we help him destroy whatever it is thats here.” Grif face taloned. “Well lets see, no screaming, no laughing, no allonsy, no running, means he’s not actually in this area… I guess we try to find him?”
Meanwhile with Hammer Strike, who has yet to arrive due to some problems. “Remind me how they couldn’t see that tree root?” Hammer Strike muttered to himself. The groups were chatting about many things, and he would tune into the background noise for the sake of some audio.
“Well, come on then. Allons-Y!”
Hammer Strike had a slight pause as he turned his head and scanned the crowd. His eyes squinted slightly as he tried to find the voice that had talked, but he couldn’t hone in on the one responsible for it.
With a sigh he shook his head and continued on. They were almost there.
“Really?” Pensword asked as he shifted a little bit. “Because I would rather stay close to the Tardis, it isn’t,” He turned from talking to Grif and back to the entrance they had come from, and promptly Froze. “Grif... “ His voice was now tinted with fear. “Tell me what you see in the shadows please.”
“Well if this is most types of the doctors enemies he’s facing, what would you do if it was angels Pensword? This is the first place they’re going to go for, limitless time energy remember?”
“I was afraid of that. I see two shadows now out there… they might be coming closer.” He whispered. “I’ll hold out here, you two get back up above ground and get a hammer.” He muttered as he spread his wings. Which to Moonshade, made her heart flutter a little at the almost heroic pose he gave while facing the hallway. “Go, Go, I can hold them off for at least a minute or two.”
“Buddy calm down deep breaths, I didn’t say they were here I just said it’s a possibility. we don’t know the story yet. You stay here with the Tardis if you want. I’m going to see if I can find the Doctor, or Derpy, or whoever might be with him this time. Okay?” Grif attempted to calm the pegasus.
“Okay, just go, I’ll see you later.” Pensword smiled never leaving his eyesight from the hallway. He thought he had seen something out there and with the Tardis right there, he was going to err on the side of caution.
Grif nodded taking a bronze shield off the wall and polished it with his sleeve and handed it to Pensword. “Quantum locked, remember?”
Pensword smiled never fully taking off the eyes and took the shield and held it up as he slowly began to back up with the shield pointed to the entrance. “So,” Pensword whispered. “You believe me then?”
“What’s the first rule of any universe containing a Doctor?” Grif asked.
“Run?” he asked with a smirk. “Or was that that always the Doctor’s line?” Pensword smiled, while Moonshade kept looking back and forth between the two.
“Anything is possible.” Grif rolled his eyes. He looked to Moonshade. “Get outside and send a message to Hammer Strike. Fly no matter how low or cramped the path is. You’ll be safer.” He nodded.
Moonshade blinked and looked like she was going to argue the order only to feel a whack of metal on metal. She turned to Pensword who had just used his wing armor to hit her own wing armor. “That is a direct order. We will be behind you covering your escape, now don’t question. Hammer Strike will explain… Mother Faust I wish I was not right in my gut about those statues.” For he had turned back and there in the shadows and light border were two statues not there before. “I hate being right.” Pensword snarked to the air.
“Okay, I’m going.” Grif said as he left the room, taking the second corridor and heading as fast as he could. He could already feel Moonshade darting above him and down corridors always heading up and following the same air current as before.
Several moments later and many twists and turns Grif made his way cautiously down the hallways “Doctor?” Grif called as he looked around. “Companion maybe?” he said further. Their calling was interrupted as Grif noticed something moving in front of him causing the gryphon to jump with a start. His tallon was already heading to his sword when he noticed whatever it was was moving in a similar manner. The gryphon squinted in the dark as the feline light receptors adjusted to the darkness. The gryphon chuckled as he realised before him was simply a dusty mirror, an idea coming to mind. Chuckling he walked up and polished the surface with his arm. Something brushed casually against his shoulder.
The gryphon vanished from the touch of the weeping pegasus hoof, a loud clatter as the gryphons weapons, armor, and clothing fell to the floor. Three things hit the alien at once, the first was that behind the gryphon, a recently dusted mirror stood reflecting the creatures stone features back at it. The second, was that rather than taking in a mass of potential time energy a large chunk had seemed to be pulled out of it and possibly the most disturbing to the quantum locked being, the energy it had absorbed had the familiar taste all weeping pegasi feared, paradox energy flowed into it's body as the hoof that had touched the gryphon slowly began to crack, little pieces of stone dust falling away as it was forced to observe it's own disintegration.
Pensword could not hear the flapping of any wings, feathered or leather. He sighed but did not take his guard down. He stepped back, one step, two steps, three steps, four…
The room rang as the bronze shield clattered to the ground, along with all the armor that Pensword had been wearing at the moment of his touching the wing tip of a Weeping Pegasus. The Statue hiding it’s face with its wings remained still, unmoving as the clanging of armor hitting stone faded. What remained was the sounds of something. Dust falling? The faint sound of stones cracking, the tip of a feather becoming powdery as the statue remained still.
Hammer Strike gave a happy sigh as he finally entered the camp, the group seemed to be happy as well as they finally arrived. With a quick pull he disconnected himself from the makeshift harness the Crusaders had made to pull their own sled.
“Lord Hammer Strike” black rook approached him with a salute. “It’s good to see you made it safely”
“Hello Rook, yeah, we had some problems with one of the sleds and had to fix it, though I still can’t see how they did not see a tree root two feet off the ground.” Hammer Strike muttered the last part. “So, where are Pensword and Grif? I have been meaning to talk to them about something.”
“They’re… Well you know how impatient Sir Grif can be at times.” He chuckled nervously. “They have been gone for the better part of an hour.” He said.
“They entered the castle I take it.” Hammer Strike replied.
“Yes sir, I was ordered….” Rook was cut off as somepony came shooting over the wall and towards them. Somewhat panting, Moonshade stopped in front of the two of them.
“Lord Hammer Strike.” She huffed.
“What happened?” Hammer Strike said, his tone turning serious in a flash.
“Grif lead us down into the castle, he said there was something he wanted to show us. We stopped before a statue of Clover the Clever and there was some statues of pegasi weeping, they gave off a type of a dread and then we entered this room and there was a blue box there. Pensword mentioned something about statues and Grif said something about angels and said he was going to search for someone named the Doctor and they ordered me to come find you.” She said her thoughts degrading into worried confusion.
Hammer Strike was utterly silent as he listened. His expression didn’t change, but there was something different about him that she was able to notice. He had a slight twitch every now and then. The air was getting hotter by the second, the source soon discovered as embers began to slowly rise off Hammer Strike, gaining intensity over time until small flames licked off his mane and coat.
After a moment of silence, Hammer Strike finally spoke with a tone as cold as ice, contradicting the heat. “What?”
“They said to bring you right away.” She added.
“Doctor! Get over here!” Hammer Strike shouted towards his group.
The familiar light brown stallion with a deep brown tail and mane ran up. “Oh, Lord Hammer Strike so nice to see you again, I haven’t seen you since, now when was the last time...the wedding! Oh what a day that was hey? you are looking excellent for being over a thousand years old…” the doctor was cut off.
“Doctor. Weeping Pegasi. Your Tardis. Pensword and Grif.” Hammer Strike said in one go.
“Weeping Pegasi? Here? There is no way I would have sensed them.” At that moment something beeped as he withdrew his screwdriver. “Oh there they are, well then we should probably get down there as soon as possible!”
“Rook, keep being in charge until we return.” Hammer Strike said, immediately heading towards the castle, Moonshade and the Doctor in tow. Moonshade looked at the two others. “Just what is going on here?” She asked being utterly confused as to what was happening with these strange ponies.
“And how are we going to get past the gate?” The Doctor asked. Quickly approaching it and giving it a push. “And yes it is locked, I checked this time.” He said stepping away.
Hammer Strike didn’t slow in the slightest, his eyes staring forward. As soon as he got close enough the metal of the portcullis began to glow red. With a quick leap and pivot on his forehooves, he bucked at the gate. The portcullis, worn by the passing years, gave way near instantly, breaking away as his hooves made impact and clattering to the ground, giving enough room for the three ponies to enter. Hammer Strike stood, a silent tower of burning fury as he continued into the castle.
“Well, that was certainly effective.” The Doctor said staring at the gate. Quickly moving forward trying to avoid the pile of slag the gate had become.
Moonshade gulped from her place in the air. “I can see why so many feared you from the Gryphon wars.” She muttered as she tried to pick her jaw back up. “I, I can see your Earth Pony magic is showing.” She forced a smile as she worried over what fate her friends might have faced, particularly Pensword
Moonshade landed and found Hammer Strike just staring right at her, with a glare that caused her fur to bristle. She glared right back.
“Don’t you glare at me. I want to get back at whatever monster is in there.” She turned and stepped forward with a stomp. “Just to tell you, they were scared, whatever is in there scared your two warriors.” She pursed her lips to keep from trembling. Hammer Strike heard her whispered words under her breath. “Please let him be okay.”
“They were right to be scared.” The Doctor’s demeanor had melted into a much darker tone. “There are few creatures in the universe you should be more scared of.” He noted.
Moonshade paused and looked at the Stallion. “And you are?” her tone a little harsh. “I keep hearing your title, but who are you? To have the respect of these three.” She kept walking or trotting forward into the castle. “No funny business either.”
“I’m the Doctor” he answered as they moved forward.
“Yes, but Doctor of what?” She asked with a glare, before they got distracted by something on the side. They all turned to the glint from the hole in the roof. A moment later the two ponies were forced to step towards the armor and away from Hammer Strike, only to reverse the move as Hammer Strike stepped towards the items that caught their eyes.
“Grifs equipment.” His head lowered for a second, scanning the ground before realising it was all of Grifs equipment, it was something he would never do, he would never take off everything. To all those present, the small flames around Hammer Strike seemed to become more dense, even shrinking slightly, but their heat only grew more intense.
The Doctor stood a good distance away as he noticed the equipment and then for some reason he soniced a pile of dust quickly melting under Hammer Strike. “Hmm… Somehow he managed to kill it with free roaming paradox energy even as it killed him, you’d have to be double disconnected from time to do that.”
“Double disconnect?” She paused and froze. “Wait, did you say killed him? But doing that would - the timeline will fall apart if Grif died NOW!” She didn’t know much about time mechanics but having a hero die now was not good in her mind.
One of the Solar Guard looked to his companion on the other side of the double doors. They both looked back at their Princess as she stood rooted to the floor, eyes closed. What startled them more was a pop and Luna was in the room looking around in a worried manner.
“Sister, tell us, what troubles thee? We…” She paused and looked around again. “Sister, what is this we feel? Thy Magic is growing, and yet, thou art not in flames.”
The guards to Luna’s ears seemed to step back causing their spears to tap against the floor as if scared of what they just heard.
“It’s not me, it’s him.” Celestia said, her tone sounding slightly amused, but Luna could see through her facade and heard another tone, one of fear.
“Sister is there something you haven’t told me? Who is he?” She looked at her sister confused.
“Hammer Strike…” Celestia said after a moment.
“Mother help whoever could have made him so angry…” Luna stared ahead.
The three ponies stood in silence, the light glow from the Tardis’ lamp shining and creating a simple light, in fact the entire Tardis was glowing a little, giving the entire room a bluish tint. A pile of armor lay before the doors, exactly like Grif’s. Moonshade lunged for it, tearing it apart in a desperate search. One could almost hear her pleading no over and over again. Suddenly she went rigid as she slowly lifted a hoof from the wreckage. It was holding a pouch. Embroidered on it was the same crest that had been on Matthew’s first set of armor, the great seal of the united States. She blinked, stepping aside in a daze. “He.” She hiccuped. “He never goes anywhere without these. His ... His Challenge Coins.” Moonshade sat down hard and began to blink tears away when the light from the Tardis flickered.
The gentle light was driven away by the bright lights now orbiting Hammer Strike. The flames feeding into them and solidifying into spheres of sheer flame. He twitched slightly,his anger continuing to build at what happened, towering in rage. He knew what had happened. And he knew they were lost to time.
Moonshade gulped in fear. “Uh, Doc? Can… are they really dead? I mean… say something to keep us from going up in cinders.” She cried out only to hear a beeping coming from that strange metal wand that the earth pony had been waving all over the place.
“That’s not the issue my dear.” The Doctor said. “Weeping Pegasi don’t kill you, they send you back in time and space and then feast on the potential of the life you would have lived now, they are or at least were alive in the past. As to the questions of where and when, those are harder to answer, and even if we did know…” The Doctor sighed. “There is no way to know if the Tardis can go to that time. Pegasi create fixed time and I can’t move through that.”
The Sonic beeped again, a little sharper this time, and the lights from the Tardis dimmed yet again. Moonshade only looked to the Doctor. “So? You just land outside of that fixed point and get them.” She was trying hard not to break down and did sniffed and shivered. “Where’s the heat?” She looked to Hammer Strike and blinked, he was still burning hot and yet she felt cold.
“That’s not entirely true my dear…” He turned to the blue box. “Yes I know there’s one coming. Settle down, girl, I’m trying to talk here.” He said before turning back to Moonshade, ”Fixed time is fixed, it’s not malleable in anyway, you’d have to have some future existence in the exact time there, in order for any of us to get to them.
Moonshade blinked and stared right at the Doctor. “Well, He,” She tilted her head to Hammer Strike. “Fights in the Third Gryphon War, and he is not back there. So he had to go back as well. Second they all vanish and reappear in the Crystal Empire, and vanish again before being broken from stone statues. There are enough holes for this fixed time problem to fit that box through.”
“Even so I can’t arrived at said timeline in the Tardis, I’d have to park at an adjacent time and location and drop you off.” He tried to explain. “I can’t just enter the third gryphon war I was alre… Oh time your bloody beautiful you are!”
It was this moment that the lights vanished, and the fires flickered for a second but when they came on, there at the entrance was a fearful sight. A weepening Pegasus only it was not covering its face with either hooves or wings and had fang muzzle bared with an angry look as the lights were trying to not fade again from the Tardis. Also Hammer Strikes own natural fire was glowing even hotter now.
“Luna, stay here, you are in charge of Equestria until I get back, don’t start any wars.” Celestia yelped and she was gone in a burst of what could only be described as diffused Sunlight.
Luna glowered at the ceiling. “No you don’t Sister, Thou shalt notme to take your meeting with the Council of new construction so easily.” She shouted. No response was forthcoming but even the guards could tell that Luna’s wings were twitching from some unseen emotion. She turned and glared at the two guards. “Cancel all meetings, tell them, tell them we had a threat on the old castle from changelings. My sister and I went to tackle the problem before it grew.” With that she was gone in a burst of moonlight.
“Did you?” One guard began.
“No, and neither did you.” The other guard finished the first guards question and the two returned to staring at the now empty throne hoping no one was going to barge into the room, and for once, no one did barge into the room while the Princesses were out of the castle.
Hammer Strikes eyes seemed to regain their focus as he stared the Weeping Pegasi down, his anger drowning out sense.
“Don’t look away but don’t look in it’s eye’s!” The doctor called to Hammer Strike. Though he couldn’t tell if Hammer Strike even heard him, as he was still staring and walking forward towards the Weeping Pegasus.
“Milord, Milord did you not hear the warning? Don’t engage the Statues!” She turned to look at the Doctor. “Don’t stand there, do something!” She shouted.
“What can I do?” The doctor asked. “We can’t even get near him, his armor is even starting to glow from the amount of heat he’s putting off!”
Moonshade shivered and paused as one logic item cause her to pause. “Doctor, the cape is not burning… and is it flapping a little?” She looked around. “What is up with you ponies?” She yelled exasperated. “Do the rules of magic not even apply anymore?”
“I’m afraid you’re the only pony here my dear.” The doctor said as he began tapping at the sonic. “I assumed you knew he wasn’t a pony by now.”
“Gah!” She growled baring her fangs at him before she turned around at the look of shock and then she saw it as well. “Is, is that statue actually cracking from the heat?” She asked in fear as she slowly backed toward the Tardis.
“You’re the cause of this, you and the others…” Hammer Strike said, his tone burned with anger, the very air wavered with each syllable. “You… Damned… Weeping Pegasi…”
The statute did not even move as Lord Hammer Strike was now inches from the statue and doing something the Doctor had never seen before, a full on glare that seemed to be doing nothing with turning Hammer Strike into another Weeping Pegasus. Still it was a moment later that the statue crumbled into heaps of dust that grew finer and finer and glowing from the heat of Hammer Strike.
A second later the heat in the room shifted and Princess Celestia was standing there drawing the heat into her body as well as the flames. HOwever a moment later as Luna teleported in, Princess Celestia and Lord Hammer Strike teleported away.
Luna looked around and stomped a hoof. “Sister, stop running…” She trailed off as she looked around. She frowned at her surroundings. “Doctor, just what have you done?” She stopped still as she saw the pile of armor and did not move. “I take it time is flowing in the past now?” it seemed she had directed that comment to the Doctor.
A moment later in a courtyard that was unused, with weeds barely surviving, there was a popping sound and they all wilted from the sudden heat that had come into their presence. Celestia looked to Hammer Strike, her aged eyes expressing an unspoken “let it go.”
Within a second the fires around Hammer Strike seemed to grow to the point that they nearly engulfed him, his form, a mere silhouette in the fire didn’t seem to change as it slowly sat down. The fires began to shrink and soon reduced to embers surrounding him. His eyes stared forward, anger still inside, but contained. His breathing was quiet as he looked down at the ground beneath him.
“Damn it.” He muttered to himself, his eyes looking at the scorched earth beneath his hooves.
Celestia only blinked. “I dare not to even think of what will happen to those that even attempt to kill your friends.”
“The two that did it are already gone.” He replied softly. “The third one…” He paused as he took a breath. “Dead now, I suppose.”
“It burns you doesn’t it?” She asked. “Knowing they were hurt and for all your power you couldn’t stop it. You couldn’t save them. it doesn’t sit well does it?” She asked.
“Not at all, but there was nothing I could have done.” He said softly.
“You know what this place is called?” She asked. motioning with her wings to the surrounding area. They were in the courtyard of some kind of ruin though it was blackened and burnt far beyond recognition. Only melted stone and scorched earth remained. Most of the damage was far older than what Hammer Strike had done, his more recent work evident in the slightly red stones nearby.. The only reason why it even remotely resembled a fort was because parts of the stonework had melted into the shapes they held when they had been individual stones bound together with mortar. Still, the overall impression the place gave was like a wax sculpture that had been placed in the sun a little too long.
Hammer Strike slowly shook his head.
“Celestia’s Vengeance.” The princess sighed. “This was a gryphon fort during the Third Gryphon war before I let the sun loose on it. The first and only time I let the sun loose on anything.”
“What did they do?” He questioned.
“That’s the thing. It was a war, they fought in it. They were simply doing what happens in war. They killed my ponies, and my ponies fought back. But on that day I had finally seen the casualty reports for the entire war. Oh, I had fought in battles before, led armies, but casualty reports were for generals, losses were a label; a note of less assets than normal. Never had I applied the term to meaning actual lives.” Celestia explained. “I was barely a teen by the standard my sister and I have come to understand for our way of aging. I was erratic, and quickly controlled by my emotions. When I saw the names of how many of my ponies wouldn’t be returning home I wanted the gryphons to pay. I wanted to make them feel the pain I felt. So I walked up to this base that my ponies had laid siege to for weeks,moved the atmosphere out of the way, and let the sun land unhindered on this fort. Within moments everything that was not stone was ash, everything that was stone was lava, in over a thousand years nothing has ever grown here. No life has ever lived here since.” She said. “And do you know what it got me?”
“Fear?” Hammer said, still looking around with a blank stare.
“Celestia the Terrible, Celestia the Destroyer, Celestia, she who brings immolation and vengeance to all who oppose.” The solar princess sighed. “And not a single pony lost came back to show for it.” She sighed. “It is a burden to have the fire and know that it could harm everything you care about as well as everything you hate. To have to turn the righteous to ash with the wicked. Sometimes I return to this place to remind myself what fire is.” She said. “Do you understand what fire is?”
“More than just destruction and death as some would believe, for it is also a source of life, controlled of course.” He sighed.
The Solar Princess nodded. “The same sun that caused all this, raises the crops that feed my ponies every day, it tends to the trees warms the ground, brings life to my ponies and to everything under it. But if I were simply to move the atmosphered a tiny bit.” She waved her hoof around them. “All gone for a whole three centimeters wide.”
Hammer Strike reached over and gave the gem on his bracelet a small turn, reverting back to his human form as he sat there as himself, as Shawn.
“It…” His fists clenched lightly before releasing as he placed one hand on his head. “They were…”
“They are.” Celestia noted. “And you have much to do and not much to do it with.” She noted. “I can’t say my younger self will be entirely easy to deal with but with a note she will honor what I ask of her. You’ll need access to the Black Vault.”
“What for?” He softly questioned.
“By the time Grif comes to your home, House Strike has been operating for close to 36 years, and it was you who Grif pledged himself too, this means you must set up your house for a thirty-six year span while not aging. The doctor could do it,. You, unfortunately, will not have the option. I kept something in that vault that should make things easier.” She explained “It’s funny, try telling the gryphon emperor the long game works both ways and he’ll have you hospitalized.” She laughed. “Is there anything you’ll need before you leave?” she asked “I am afraid you’ll need to leave behind Grif and Pensword’s armor, but you should take their weapons. Oh, and Shawn, when you get back, sorry about hitting you in the face.”
“I’m sure it didn’t hurt that bad…” He shook his head with a small smile as he stood. “What am I saying?” He chuckled softly, his tone gaining strength again. “I’ll be sure to brace for it.” He said before shifting the gem again, standing before Celestia as Hammer Strike.
In a flash the two of them were once again in the palace of the two pony sisters, only this room was different. For one thing there was no visible door to enter or leave from. Secondly it appeared entirely untouched by the centuries that had passed. “Welcome to the Eclipsed Sanctum.” Celestia said. “This was my private room back when we lived here, a place I could get away from the nobles, other ponies, the annoying little sister trying to steal the last slice of cake,” She sighed. “and the location of two very important things. First, my personal parchment paper specially made just for me from a tree most consider to be extinct. If I write the note in this, even I can’t doubt it’s authenticity.”
“Helps that you already know it works doesn’t it?” Hammer Strike questioned with a small smile.
“Yes I suppose so.” She laughed as she got a quill and ink. “The Doctor once used this amazing metaphor for the complexities of time, if only I could remember it, timey wimey wibbly wobbly, something of time stuff.” She said as she dipped the pen in the ink. As she wrote the ink appeared to actually be made of light before sinking into a black that made it seem as though the letters were burnt onto the page. With a quick sign Celestia applied a hoof print to the bottom. She sealed it and handed it to Hammer Strike.
“Close enough.” Hammer Strike commented before taking the scroll and putting it into his bags, noting that his armor seemed to still be very hot with a shrug.
“Follow.” Celestia said as she turned to one of the walls. She pressed her hoof against it and pulled down. Stone grated on stone as a panel under her hoof sunk in and the one her hoof reseted on moved downward. “This panel will only move if the one touching it posses a solar fire.” She explained as a door slid open. She led him carefully down a stone corridor. “Now I am showing you this because I trust you Shawn. Understand, half the things in this vault could render Equestria to ash in a matter of seconds. The Doctor allows me to keep them here knowing they’ll never be used. But what I am giving you is far from dangerous in the right hooves.” They came to the end of the corridor. “You cannot tell anypony about this, not even Pensword or Grif, understand?” She asked.
“I understood how secret as soon as you said ash.” He replied.
In front of them was a door with a hole for a horn. However unlike the other door for the elements vault this door was white hot and pulsing with heat that by all means should have rendered the door slag.
“Now looking at this door how would you assume it would be opened?” Celestia asked.
“Differently than I would expect because of you saying that.” He replied.
Celestia raised a hoof to a metal plate on the corridor wall. As she concentrated the door began to fade as the heat began to eb. “If a unicorn where to place their horn on that door, they would be reduced to ash rather suddenly.” She explained as more heat drained from the door and the panel began to glow. “The heat of this door matches the heat of Equis’s inner molten core.” Celestia explained. “And to open it the heat must be entirely drained into this metal plate with a hoof.”
“And to do so?” Hammer questioned.
“Place your hoof here.” She instructed.
“Just put my hoof there? Nothing else?” He questioned with a raised brow.
“And yet it has kept out the cleverest of bandits and safe crackers for centuries.” Celestia smiled. “An Immortal princess must have some incredibly complicated system for her valuables, She wouldn’t possibly use the simple approach.”
“I saw it as a near first option.” He replied with a flat expression. “I won’t question it anymore, I’d rather not bother. Onward we go.”
The panel clicked inwards and the vault door slid open. “And so, the Black Vault.” She said, gesturing for him to enter.
After a moment he stepped in, taking the details of the room around him. The vault was a mess of armor racks, weapon racks, and podiums for certain other items. Shelves lined the walls with parts and pieces. Some he recognized as the pony equivalents of things the doctor would have fought. The eye of a Dalek, the head of a Cyberman...Cyberpony. Something that seemed to resemble a Sontaran weapon for hooves. Other items he didn’t recognise, some as mundane as an old dusty oil lamp.
On what Hammer Strike could only assume was a horse shaped stand stood a set of massive plated armor that seemed to have been made to cover everything but a small vizor for the eye’s. The plates had been carefully articulated by the smith and it looked like whoever forged it was trying to make an armor that restricted no movement while providing impossible levels of protection.
“Impressive. Who made this set?” Hammer questioned.
“That is your Juggernaut armor.” Celestia said. “At least, I think thats what you called it. The word is strange in Equish, but you said a pony wearing this armor could walk through a battlefield and survive anything short of a direct catapult boulder.” She said. “The price was sadly incredibly uneconomical, this suit alone cost nearly one million bits.”
“So then I paid for that with my own currency I take it?” He questioned.
“Actually thats the approximate estimate, at this point you had a full steel mine working for you and so you paid nothing for metal and the work was your own hoof.” She noted.
On a stand not far away a gladius shortsword and a small mace lay across each other. the gladius was wrapped in a white sheath with a well polished bronze handle sticking out of it. The mace was a deep blue metal with a black leather wrapped handle. The head was round and filled with creators. “These are Sunburn and Crater Face.” Celestia said catching his gaze. “The first weapons Luna and I ever used. I cannot remember who their maker was or who taught us to wield them, but they saved our lives many times until we outgrew their size.”
“They were made well it seems.” He commented, taking in certain details on the swords. It even had the smiths mark, but it was faded too much for him to capture the image.
Celestia floated a small glass orb towards him. “This will allow you to place yourself within a moment in time inside a painting. With the right help you can escape when you are needed and otherwise ignore time while you wait for things to be right.” She offered it to him.
“What if I am needed on the outside?” He asked. “It does not seem like an idea to start the house and leave for years.” He asked.
“The doctor well help you with that part.” Celestia said. “I’m simply handing you what you will need.” She said.
“This is going to be one interesting trip it seems…” He said.
“And you expect less from The Doctor?” Celestia smiled.
“Touche.” He replied.
“It seems your ride has arrived already, so we should head back.” Celestia said gesturing outside the vault. “I can’t teleport within the vault.” She explained.
“Well it makes sense really.” He replied as they headed out of the vault, as soon as they were out the door swung shut, its fiery aura instantly returning. With a flash the two of them vanished from the corridor as it closed, the entire mechanism resetting to it’s former state.
In the gallery, as Luna had revealed it was indeed called, the lunar alicorn, the doctor, and Moonshade sat patiently. This time they were accompanied bya large elderly blond and grey feathered gryphon wearing a rather dapper black suit and cape with a red inner lining. Next to him stood a red mare with a brown mane and tail and the cutie mark of a magnifying glass showing what Moonshade could only assume was supposed to be the silhouette of an alien. Side by side, a second blue rectangular box almost identical to the doctors own stood. The only difference between the two being the paint seemed to be a lighter shade of blue. It was between these two specific groups that Celestia and Hammer Strike appeared.
Moonshade was looking at the second phone box and just blinked. “It just came out of no where.” She muttered as the two doctors seemed to only grin a little at each other upon seeing the expression on Moonshade. “How did-? You are telling me that tiny little thing is a Time Machine?”
“Time and Relative Dimension in Space, my dear.” The gryphon spoke up. “I am surprised I didn’t explain this before I arrived.” The gryphon eyed the pony Doctor appraisingly. “Then again I seem to have gotten… erratic in my old age.”
“You’re still not a ginger Doctor.” The pony who as far as Moonshade could tell was named Spyglass Smith.
“Well excuse me if we weren’t the least bit busy.” The pony Doctor snarled.
“Oh it seems I’m also rude, I don’t think I’ve been rude before.” The gryphon noted.
“Well given what just occurred, it is mostly understandable.” Hammer Strike commented aloud.
The gryphon turned appraisingly to Hammer Strike staring at him. “So I understand you are in need of a lift?” The gryphon asked. It was notable that despite the age of his body his eye’s carried a youth that the other doctors seemed to lack.
“It appears so. it seems I have work to do.” He replied
“Yeah, and I have one lost commander to find and protect from any mares that might get any ideas about him. He is already spoken for.” She could not hide the facial fall a little at the words. “If you can go and… get back to Pensword then I am going with you. No ifs ands or buts.”
“Good. Didn’t want to do much alone, but there might be a problem.” He said, muttering the last part.
“Problem?” The gryphon and the pony asked at the same time.
“We can talk more on that in private, Doctor.” He replied.
“Very well, is there anything you lot need before we go? I don’t think a return trip will be possible for some time.” The gryphon noted.
“I carried my gear with me, and thankfully-” He gave himself a quick look over. “Thankfully I didn’t… Well… Burn it and/or turn it to ash.”
Moonshade glared. “I am already wearing the gear I feel would be appropriate, I am also carrying something for Pensword when I see him again.” She she looked at the group, wondering as the full impact of what they were about to do hit her.. “We really are going into the past?” She whispered.
“Very well then we should head off at once.” The gryphon snapped his talons and the lighter box’s doors opened. “Good day, Doctor.” he nodded to the pony doctor.
“Doctor.” The pony Doctor said he squinted a bit before stomping his hoof against the floor. He seemed momentarily surprised when his Tardis’s doors opened. Quickly covering it up with a smug smile, he stode leisurely towards it, and promptly tripped over the step of the raised platform it rested on. “I meant to do that.”
“Yes of course.” The gryphon chuckled as he entered his Tardis, the others following suit.
Moonshade paused and blinked. “This… how? it, but…” She stammered in shock in the doorway as she was the last to enter what many fans would call the classic control room of the Tardis.
“I like the circles. Adds a nice look.” Hammer Strike commented.
The gryphon nodded as he worked on the control panel. “Can never have too many round things. I don’t think I shall ever get rid of them.” He said as he worked.
“No comment.” Hammer Strike said softly.
The doctor didn’t seem to hear as the familiar sound, not unlike heavy panting, was heard. “And off we go.” He said.
Moonshade looked to Hammer Strike and at the machine in the middle of the room. “Are we actually moving?” She asked and paused before standing up, walking over to Hammer Strike. “Why are you trusting him so much?”
“Because he is someone you can trust with your life, despite the odds.” Hammer replied softly.
“Well not much else to do, the old girl knows where we’re going. So, who’s hungry?” The gryphon asked.
Moonshade looked to Hammer Strike, confused at the commment. “Do all folks name things they operate?”
“You would if she could understand you back.” Hammer responded with a small smile.
“You?” She sighed and shook her head. “Why not, I mean some of the artifacts in legends are said to be sentient, why not a time machine that hides as a skinny blue box?” She replied with a laugh.
“Hmmm…” The gryphon nodded as he checked some dials. “Yes that seems right.” He noted. He flipped a switch as the sound not unlike heavy panting returned. “Well my friends, it seems I have some good news and some bad news.” He noted.
“Bad news first please.” Hammer Strike commented.
“We’re in Baltimare.” He responded. “But, we are in the right timeline.” The gryphon added.
“So we have a distance to travel then?” Hammer Strike asked.
“I’m sure I have a chariot in here somewhere if your thestral friend wouldn’t be against pulling you.” The gryphon offered.
“You act as though I’m unwilling to travel by hoof.” Hammer Strike said after a pause. “Plus, I couldn’t do that to a friend.”
Moonshade blinked and growled. “You think pulling a chariot is a burden? I’ll let you know that I have been trained in royal chariot pulling duties. Decoy chariot for distraction but I was in training when you three all showed up.”
“I would rather not make you do something when we can just walk.” Hammer Strike said, his voice raising a little. “I dislike acting like this. I hate it even. But I have to follow this role. At least give me this.”
Moonshade ignored the slight chuckle from the only Pony in the room as she glared at Hammer Strike. “Very well, but doing so would mean…” She glared at the doors. “This timeline was not kind to my people… If we walk, I will have to wear your house symbol over my chest to indicate myself a hired sword for you. Even then that might not guarantee my passage through the city unharmed.”
“I don’t plan on letting that happen.” His tone darkened, his eyes squinting.
“I am afraid there isn’t much else I can do for you here, but this is an address of some ...friends I happen to have within the city.” The gryphon handed them a piece of parchment. “If you look them up they should help you.”
“In this city I take it?” Hammer Strike asked.
“Within the capital.” The gryphon said.
“Well then…” He sighed. “We better get started I guess. But I need to talk to you at some point, just you.” He said to the Doctor.
“Spyglass, could you take our friend here and find her something more time fitting in the wardrobe?” The Doctor asked.
“Of course, Doctor.” The mare looked to Moonshade. “It’s just over here.” She said heading down one of the corridors.
“Doctor, how am I supposed to set up a noble house, and expect it to work while I vanish for thirty six or more years?” Hammer asked. “Celestia said you have something for me to use to deal with that problem.”
“My friend, what can’t age? You or just your body?” The gryphon asked.
“Body, apparently I never seemed to age in the eyes of history. But I can not do that for thirty six years.” He replied.
“Have you considered a proxy? A ghoul or a golem perhaps that can take your image, without a will of it’s own you can control it quite easily.” The gryphon explained.
“A golem?” Hammer questioned. “I suppose if I am controlling it, it would pretty much be me, if it looked right.” Hammer shrugged.
“When you get to the capital, look for my friends, one of them is very skilled in these sort of matters.” The gryphon assured him. “I am afraid there is little more help I can give you.”
“Anything helps honestly.” He sighed, glancing back at the cape he was wearing before removing it.
When Moonshade and Spyglass returned, Moonshade was dressed in a far more haphazard set of armor. Different plates of onyx stone and ebony seemed to have been sewn together onto a black tunic. On each of the hastily made pauldrons a wolf tooth was embedded facing downwards and a wolf had been lightly etched on the breastplate. Her weapons seemed the same as before but hanging loosely at her side by a piece of cloth was a tomahawk. A onyx knife likewise rested on her opposite side.
“Perfect, you look like you're fresh off the hunting grounds.” The gryphon nodded. “No one will ever doubt where you come from wearing that.”
Hammer Strike made no comment, only his eye gave a little twitch at the armor.
“I feel exposed.” Moonshade muttered. “Then again I was use to wearing the armor that Milord made for me.” She paused. “So I would be not bothered looking like this? I find that a little hard to believe.”
“Thestrals are still tribal at this time.” The gryphon explained. “Their weapons and armor have been worked on from resources available and their skills are a more primal way of fighting. They are quite deadly warriors especially in the night and the only thing keeping the pegasi from being at a rivalry with them is Equestria’s negligence to look at them as equals. Whileit’s not strictlyunheard of for important personages to have a thestral bodyguard it is almost unspeakably rare. Such cases generally result in the bits being brought home to share with everyone for things they all need. You have to look the part of a tribal thestral because you either can’t afford or are wary of finer weapons and armor made by pony hooves.”
Moonshade only nodded her head and glared. “I am so glad Princess Luna reforged our armor tastes.” She chuckled lightly before lookingat Hammer Strike. “Very well. I shall wear this contraption ... for the time being.”
“Let us get going, Lunar Fang. Tthe sooner the better.” Hammer Strike said.
Moonshade had started to walk forward only to freeze at hearing Hammer Strike calling her something else. “Wha-What?”
Moonshade looked to adjust one of the pauldrons when she noticed the teeth embedded in them, they were fangs embedded over the crescent moon, these pauldrons were famous in history.
“They were Lunar Fangs pauldrons.” She looked back up again to Hammer Strike who was giving a rare smile. “What?” She asked in utter shock. “I’m….?”
“Congratulations, it only took me giving up and deciding to tell you.” Hammer replied.
Extended Holiday Chp 33: A kaleidoscope of History Act 4
There were many ways gryphons would describe Garrus Ryan Athian Flightfighter Farflyer, or Graff as the tradition was to call a gryphon of five names or higher by the word spelt from the first letters of their names.
Graff was a warrior. In the Gryphic tongue, Athian meant ‘first blood,’ and it was a name awarded to the first of a clan’s brood who would reach maturity through the honor of battle. When Graff had still been a chick, Diamond Dogs had attacked the clan in a raid. While they were held off in the main yard, several managed to sneak around the back entrance and fight their way to the instruction room. By the time the warriors arrived they found both the teacher and guard dead as well as five Diamond Dogs. Three had been killed by the guard and the teacher but the final two lay dead in front of Graff as he brandished a two handed Diamond Dog axe. His face caked in blood and his brood peers gathered behind him. It was then the warriors knew Graff would go places.
Graff was smart, in his years he had lead several raiding parties to clear out the Diamond Dogs that besieged the northern isles. His strategy and wisdom had gained him great favor within the clan.
Graff was loyal and the northern isles were yet a small place with little honor to be had for fledgling warriors. This caused many to go searching elsewhere. When the colony had seceded from the empire to be it’s own nation it had been common for fledglings to return to Gryphonia and attempt to join another clan for the honor that came with being a warrior of the empire. Graff never left to pursue such honor.
Most of all, Graff was kind. An unorthodox and unusual trait for a gryphon warrior, Graff always gave more than necessary to aid the widows of past warriors, sharing food from his hunts with any who might come up short. kindness was not a good trait for a gryphon. It sewed the seeds of weakness and reaped only dependency on others. Graff was kind; and this was a trait that could stop a gryphon from growing above their station.
Many a gryphon historian would say it was kindness that lead to Graff’s fall, the birth of Graf, and the raising of the worst gryphon in the history of the race. It was midwinter in the northern isles. Unlike most of Equestria snow did not fall on the small island chains. However, the winds ran wild and raw with a cruel chill that cut deep into the bone. Food became scarce and the salty sea spray would burn the beak of any who were forced to feel it’s sting. It was on a such a mid-winter night that Graff had been stuck attending both the internal hearthfire and the external beacon flame for all those who dared to be out hunting at this time.
The gryphon hugged his cloak against his body as he made his way down the usually short, now seemingly endless, path from the house to the beaconfire. Fortunately, the deer hide cloak had been tanned well and kept the majority of the wind and spray from the warrior’s face. Approaching the ebbing flame of the beacon in the harsh wind, the light warmth offered a glimmer of comfort in the dark, chill weather. Grabbing the iron bar, Griff stoked the coals carefully, hoping to find some way to rekindle the fire. The tactic yielded little success with the dying coals. Grumbling, he cast the bar aside as he made his way to the coal stores. Flinging the door open with a grumbling slam, he froze.
There in the dark of the coal stores, nested between two piles, a pair of blue eye’s stared out, unblinking. for a moment, fear clawed at the gryphon warrior’s mind, scrabbling for purchase as he wondered what sort of beast could have claimed the coal stores for it’s winter home. This fear was soon cast off, however, as a familiar squawk erupted from the pile. As the feline light receptors in Graff’s eyes took hold he realized this supposedly unwelcome creature was nothing more than a young gryphon, still but a cub. The child shivered lightly in the spray, but seemed to be unbothered by the large armed figure in front of it. The blue eyes stared questioningly as it stood, approaching slowly.
Graff shook his head. An orphan was truly a sad thing in gryphon society. strength was paramount, and weakness, a blight to be discarded. If the child was alone it meant his parents either saw weakness in him or had been too weak to survive the winter themselves. To take in such a creature was scandalous. There would be more mercy in cutting such a one’s throat before it was forced to die of starvation or disease. And yet, Graff’s talons never reached for his knife or sword. His axe stayed within it’s holster. The elder male gryphon took the cloak from his shoulders and tenderly wrapped the child inside. As he did so his talons brushed against something metallic. Gently the old bird lifted the child’s wing only to gasp in amazement. A metallic feather gleamed amongst the still under grown primaries.
The gryphon searched the childs features. Battle born? In the northern isles? Such children grew into warriors of instability and bloodlust, warriors of incredible fame, but monsters to all who knew them. Yet as Graff searched the child’s features something else glowed within those eye’s. No, not a battle born. Something far more important. Graff undoubtedly knew the child was an old soul, come for it’s second beginning.
Graff was kind. And in the weeks that followed, his kindness would see him removed from his clan. It would see him dead to them and reborn as Graff no longer of the far flyer clan. All but a faithful few who had fought at his side denounced him. Still, Graff did not waver. For Graff had a son now. And something within him told him that given time, all would would come to know Grif, son of Graff.
Grif, son of Graff, ‘born’ September Ninth, 101 ADF
As harsh winter raged against the shores of the Northern Isles, something else was brewing in the frontier lands of Equestria’s northwest border with the Gryphon Empire. Two ponies were out for a walk in the mountain meadows. They stared at each other with love struck eyes. The scene would have been a scandal in the larger cities, but the two laughed in spite of it. What were the opinions of stuffed up gentry to a pony in love? The Pegasus Stallion only smiled, brushing a feathered wing over his mate’s leather one as he lost himself in her slitted eyes. “Oh my sweet Moon Beam.” He whispered with a smile in her ear.
She shuddered and giggled at the touch and the sound of her name. “Now now, Iron Pen, do not get too romantic. I have not even gotten us to our picnic spot.” Suddenly she broke pace, her smile dropping into an expression of shock and intense concentration. Her ears twitched as she cocked her head.
“What is wrong, Moon Beam?”
“Shhh.” She hushed her husband. “I can hear a foal crying.”
Iron Pen blinked in shock, following his wife’s gaze as he strained to hear. Wind? Some crack in a boulder perhaps? Then he heard it, rising and falling on the wind as it tossed and turned, the wail echoed fear, confusion, and it held power enough to break even the stoniest of hearts, causing them bleed compassion. Iron’s face darkened. “We will find the foal. And if somepony abandoned it, I swear I will make them pay.” He moved a wing to his saddle pouch and removed the dagger he had brought with him to cut the simple meal of meat, bread, and cheese. Something may attack when they find the baby, and he was going to protect his wife if it came down to it. He turned, starting, as he heard the leathery flapping of his wife’s wings. Moon Beam was already off the ground making a beeline for the foal, her bat-like ears swivelling as she honed in on the cry. The two eventually came to a field of boulders in an abandoned rock quarry. The wailing echoed, bouncing from wall to wall.
“No wonder we were able to hear it crying. This place has incredible acoustics.” Iron Pen marvelled as he touched down next to his wife. Moon Beam’s ear twitched in annoyance.
“Yes, but they are also a problem. I cannot locate the foal this way. There are too many echoes to pinpoint the origin.”
“Then we search the quarry until we find the foal.” Iron Pen said, resolutely.
“Right. When the foal is found, we will signal the other. Agreed?”
“Agreed. Let us begin.” With that, Iron pen was off, his body a blur as he zoomed amongst the debris. Boulder to boulder, Stalagmite to stalagmite, he covering one half, Moon Beam the other. The child’s cries began to weaken as he drew closer to the outer perimeter, so Iron Pen focused his gaze on the interior instead. Ears swivelling, he banked and arced, passing through a few natural arches formed by the ravages of time. It was while passing under one such arch that Iron Pen stopped. Down below in the shadows, the cry reverberated, building on itself as it shot up. Slowly lowering himself as he lessened his wing beats, Iron Pen noticed the echoes appeared to be reverberating off of what seemed to be the walls of a sinkhole. Perhaps the ground was unstable? It would explain why the quarry had to be abandoned. Still, the cry was clearly coming from that spot. With that, Iron Pen shot high into the air and called his wife, making sure to keep above the place so he would not lose it.
“You found the foal?” Moon Beam asked as she joined him. Iron Pen nodded.
“Down there. I thought it wise to wait for the one with the night vision to go first.” He said, smiling at his mate.
“But of course.” Without another word, she dove, not even acknowledging his playful tone. Her slitted eyes took in the shadows with one glance. She noticed two things. One, the foal in question lay on a large, flat boulder, his silhouette marking him a fledgeling. Two, the ground in the sinkhole was clearly made up of gravel. If the ponies were to land anywhere, it might disturb the ground, causing the boulder to be swallowed up in a landslide and the young foal with it. “Iron Pen. Be very, very careful down here. One false move and the child will be lost.” She hissed.
“Right. But the foal cannot simply remain where it is. We will have to take it out quickly. If the child’s weight is removed and it struggles, this pit may collapse, or worse.”
“Then we will have to restrain it while we fly. I will take its forehooves if you will take the hind. We will take the child to safer ground, then let it go.”
“Is that really safe?”
“Do you have a better idea?”
Iron Pen sighed. “You are right, dear, as always.” Nodding in unison the two dove, snatching the wailing child from its place before it could acknowledge anything. The wail soon turned into a scream as it began to struggle. Iron Pen grunted. “This one has spirit.”
“Just hold on a little longer, my love. We have almost reached the surface.” Below, a distant rumbling could be heard as the boulder sank out of sight, a shower of cascading pebbles rolling down as the hole began to widen its maw. Dust clouds filled the air, exploding out in a mushroom effect, obscuring everything as boulders began to rumble and slide, clattering with the pebbles down the widening shaft. The screaming died, only to be replaced with a fit of coughing as an amorphous shadow drew close to the edge then broke free, firing like a bolt from its channel. The three crash landed, bouncing a couple of times. Both adults’ wings surrounding the foal until they ground to a halt.
Sitting up and laughing, the two couldn’t help but point at how ridiculous the other looked. Dirt smudged their noble bearing, clotting up their tails and manes. Between the two of them a rather bewildered looking foal stood, his eyes luminous in the mid-day sun. Blinking once, then twice, it sniffled before sitting down and bawling its young eyes out.
Moon Beam stopped her giggling almost immediately, rushing to the foal to make sure it was safe. She made a peremptory sweep for any major injuries. It looked like he might have a bruise or two, a tiny cut on his muzzle, but aside from that, he seemed well enough. The boy, for it was soon quite apparent the child was a colt, continued to weep. He was covered from head to toe in dirt and Moonbeam couldn’t help but smile. “Colts, always the same. Why do you insist on getting so dirty?” She asked looking back at her husband with a teasing twinkle in her eyes. The child appeared to be a young pegasus, his wings flapping disjointedly as he sobbed. “Oh poor dear, look at him…” She paused a moment, her eyes widening briefly as she stared intently at the young pony’s muzzle and ears. Then her gaze softened. “Oh, what cute little fangs and ears!” She cooed in delight. “Who would ever want to abandon a little colt like this?”
Iron Pen blinked and growled a little. “Tirek cursed city folks leaving a colt in such a place.” He looked around and huffed. “Dear, let’s get him to the picnic. We all could use a dip in the stream I think, and he could probably use some food as well.”
Moon Beam nodded as she opened her wings, using them to pick up the sobbing child and place him on her back. She gasped when he wrapped his hooves around her neck, weeping into her mane. “Let’s go.” with two quick flaps of her wings she was airborne, her husband following suit. Now was not the time for a leisurely walk. This foal needed tending. The three rose on the air currents, the child continuing to grip Moon Beam, eyes tightly shut.
“P-p-please don’t drop me.” He sobbed. Moon Beam’s eyes hardened.
“I won’t, I promise.” The wind blew through their manes as the three sped towards a large green patch in the distance. The babbling of a cool stream filled their ears as they honed in on the suntouched waters. Rapidly, they descended before flapping to a hover, then gently alighting on the shore. Iron Pen removed his saddle bags with the meal and tools, gently setting them on the lush, green grass of the clearing. A small waterfall fell from the rocks above into a small pool before continuing on its way downriver. Iron Pen smiled.
“This will do nicely. Let’s get ourselves cleaned up.” Iron Pen said, all business and playfulness as he waded into the cold stream. He shuddered, making a sputtering sound. “It is a bit cold, but you get used to it quickly enough.” He smiled at his wife. The foal giggled. Then Iron Pen waded into the pool, submerging himself temporarily before standing under the waterfall. Dirt ran in rivulets down his coat, forming a large muddy cloud in the water as the stream swept it away. When Iron Pen was certain he had washed enough, he made his way to shore, grinning. “Well that was exhilarating.” He said, shaking his coat and mane, spraying droplets of water from his mane all over the clearing. Moon Beam laughed.
“You are impossible.” she giggled, kissing him before she made her own way towards the water, the foal still on her back.
“Now don’t worry, little one. If you cannot swim, I will be here to hold you up. Just relax and enjoy the water, alright?” The foal nodded, still looking apprehensive in his white and brown smudged coat. Moon Beam was made of tougher stuff than Iron Pen, having lived the life of a Thestral. You had to be tough to get anywhere in society, or rather, endure its hateful barbs. She never flinched, though she could feel the little colt shiver as they entered the pool, the dust and dirt forming yet another cloud, swirling in patterns as it was taken down stream. Beneath the waterfall, Moon Beam laughed with delight, enjoying the sensation of cold water streaming down her mane. She lifted her muzzle up and drank from the fresh fall.
“Alright now, little one. Let us see what we can do about that stubborn mud, hmmm?” Her eyes glinted mischievously as she winked at the colt. He shuddered, which made Iron Pen laugh. “Well, he certainly seems to dislike baths well enough.” Moon Beam just grabbed the colt with her wings and gently laid him in the shallower parts of the pool, scrubbing and rubbing at his coat. Iron Pen tossed her a brush and she set to work scrubbing. The colt was surprisingly docile through the process, holding stock still as suds were worked up in his coat, a mixture of the pure water and hard scrubbing Moon Beam put into it. Laughing, she scooped up water in her wings and dumped it onto the young foal, and despite himself, the foal laughed too. Now thoroughly cleansed, his water darkened mane and tail sparkled in the sun, bejeweled by the streaming water. His dark navy blue fur shone in the sunlight as his midnight wings expanded, flicking orbs of sparkling light over the stream. Moon beam gasped.
“Iron Pen, come look at this. The boy cannot be much older than a year and he already has a cutie mark.” She ushered the colt out of the water, her eyes flicking back and forth between the mane and the mark. He really was a rather handsome colt. Though he was still sputtering a little, having gotten some dirt runoff in his eye. He rubbed it vigorously.
Iron Pen blinked and looked at the flank with widening eyes. “A sword and pen crossed… how can this be?”
“And where is the boy’s mother?” They both paused as they heard the colt speak, high pitched and still sniffling.
“Mommy?” he started at the word, remembering he was alone again, the smile fading as tears stung his eyes. “I want my Mommy and Daddy.” He sniffled, a single tear streaming from the good eye.
“Hush now, Hush dear.” Moon Beam cooed. “There is no need to cry. Your Mommy and Daddy are right here.” She looked up with a willful gaze. Iron Pen knew it only too well from when she stood up to her father to marry him. He knew he had no chance, and besides, he liked this colt. He sighed dramatically.
“I suppose we’ll have to keep him then. Just do not use that on me any more. You know how much I hate I feel when you use it for your mother’s visits with the family.” He muttered before looking to the Colt. “So, does this mean this will be how our foals will look?” He smiled and put a comforting hoof on the colt’s head, mussing up his mane. The foal giggled, still rubbing his eye. “Because if this foal is anything to judge by, then they will be beautiful fillies and very handsome colts indeed.” He paused and looked up, confused at his wife’s lack of response. Moon Beam held a distant gaze. “I wish you’d warn me when you’re about to look into the future.” A few minutes later She blinked and shook her mane. He jumped, he always jumped when she would come out of her trances. “So are we going to give this colt a name?” He asked, curious about what she had seen and what would come next.
“Pensword. I shall name him Pensword and he will be… Faust has plans for him.” She whispered as she looked at her husband. “Come on dear, let’s see what he likes, he might even enjoy some of my special treats.” She winked. “Come along, little one.”
“Dear, I still do not know why or how you can eat fruit bats or those Vampire Fruit bats.” Iron Pen replied as he ran a hoof through his dark blue mane, while staring at his own wife’s brown mane and midnight blue coat. He often liked to stare at her when she wasn’t looking. He paused then, a strange observation dawning as he eyed the colt by her side. Iron Pen smiled as she used a free wing to whack him in the muzzle. “Okay, okay, I will behave, I am coming. Still, he has your coat color.”
She nodded. “And look at that lovely mane and tail. He almost looks distinguished.” She giggled before blinking as the colt opened his eyes for all to fully see. “Oh my” She exclaimed as the young foal’s full gaze hit her for the first time, a beautiful icy blue like the mountain morning sky. “Yes, this one is special.” She muttered at the eyes of Pensword who looked around and blinked with a smile.
“Family?” he asked looking at the two, a memory that would amazingly still be with him years after.
“Yes, my little Pensword.” Moon Beam replied with another kiss to his forehead. “We are a family.” She made a rather cute sounding eep as her husband Iron Pen took both of them into a strong wing hug. She tapped his cutie mark with a wing, tracing the path of the Quill Pen with a metallic shine as it left a trail of black ink along part of his flank.
Sitting along the bank, laughing in the sun, they waited for their manes to dry. Celestia’s sun soon saw to that. Moon Beam gazed on their new son with pride, a warm smile on her muzzle as she eyed his shiny blue coat and beautiful flowing mane. She started where she lay, her eyes wide. How had she not noticed before? “White as the moon.” She whispered.
“What was that, dear?” Her mate asked with a curious nudge to her ear.
“Nothing, something you will learn later on in your lessons from my mother, also do you mind if we feed him a little from our meals?”
“I would not have it any other way my dear.” Iron Pen replied with small kiss to her ear tuffs.
“My little Pensword, come and let us eat. You must be hungry.” She smiled as they sat down, pulling out the various foods they had prepared. They ate happily at what was now a family picnic.
Pensword, found April Fourteenth , 101 ADF
Hammer Strike stood on the road with Moonshade to his right. Before them in the distance stood a wall that would no longer exist with time.
Unity.
“Remind me again why I never heard its name until recently? I read some history books but even they do not mention it.” Hammer Strike asked Moonshade, or in this case now, Lunar Fang.
Lunar Fang paused as she let her eyes wonder. “Because, actually I do not know. I think after the end, where,” She paused and nodded the castle. “Well after the event. They wanted to remember the good times. The time when the two.” She smiled and waved a hoof around them. She was trying not to say too many spoilers as they were not the only ones on the road, just the only ones having stopped for a moment to talk.
“Oh well.” Hammer Strike muttered as they continued on. “First I need to find the address, then to the castle. I’ll most likely head there alone while you stay with the ‘friends’ of the Doctor.”
Lunar Fang only nodded her head. “As you wish Hunt Master.” She muttered with a lowered gaze.
“Please do not...” Hammer Strike said.
Lunar Fang sighed. “As you wish sir.” She replied looking annoyed at the exchange. “Shall I find the address for you at least?”
“I’d prefer you staying near, due to the incident at Baltimare…” Hammer Strike muttered. “Fools, the lot of them.” He muttered again.
“Very well. I shall not leave your side unless asked to do so.” She muttered softly. She stiffened but relaxed as some older guards walked past in a little more heavy armor then the present guards, but with how Hammer Strike was dressed and the submissive attitude of a Thestral, they just kept on walking, ignoring the event. They had a patrol to complete and so far it was peaceful.
As the pair continued continued on Lunar Fang heard Hammer Strike softly say when they were alone and out of ear range, “I just do not know what I would do if something happened to you as well.”
“I shall let you know that Lunar Fang lives to reunite with the other two and leads a part of your army.” She replied with a snark. “Do not worry too much about me, okay?” She asked as she looked around and shivered. “I, I am, I am Lunar Fang.” She chirped, going on a familiar topic. “I, I am going to surprise Pensword and kiss him, and, and..” She took on a giddy look again. Before having to squash it as ponies once again entered the street, passed them without comment until they were alone.
“Only have thirty-six years to go.” Hammer Strike chuckled. “But at least with the help it will pass by quickly.” He smiled faintly.
“That is good. I, I, do you think I would make a good statue?” She asked, as she pondered just what it would be that would keep her preserved for Pensword.
“Not going to be a statue, trust me, it is not enjoyable…” He answered back.
She blinked and opened her mouth before pausing, then shut it again and looked at the ground. “I hope they are doing well, those two just… have stuff happen to them no matter what they do to avoid it.” She had a little worry in her voice now.
“Do not worry yourself, they are not even here yet.” Hammer Strike answered softly.
“Understood.” Lunar Fang replied as they kept on walking along the road. “Uh, you do know where the building is located right?”
Hammer Strike paused as he pulled out the paper given to him by the Doctor s he checked the address once more before looking to his right.
“Uh… Yeah.” Hammer Strike nodded towards the building. “We are here it seems.” He replied before heading towards it. Upon arriving at the door he gave a quick look to Lunar Fang, a question in his gaze asking if she was ready for whoever was going to answer.
Lunar Fang only glared back at Hammer Strike, shifting her weight a little to show she was prepared for most anything that she could think of. Which having not known the Doctor as well as she should have, meant she was not nearly as prepared as she should have been.
Hammer Strike only gave a slight shrug as he knocked on the door.
The door opened several minutes later for a rather short wide headed earth pony wearing a black tuxedo. “Yes ma’am?” He asked.
Hammer Strike only shook his head lightly at the comment. “We were sent here by a mutual friend, the Doctor.”
“Strax, who is it?” A rather high class sounding voice called from inside the house.
Strax looked at them. “I suppose you and your gentleman friend better come with me.” He said opening the door.
“Uh…” She walked up to look at this pony. She just could not decide if the pony was blind or something. She opened her mouth to speak in trying to correct that she was a mare, not a stallion, nor this… Gentleman thing.
“Not worth it.” Hammer Strike whispered to her as they entered.
He led them inside the house and down the halls into a rather large dining hall with a polished blackwood table. Sitting at one part of the table was a brown furred, red maned pegasus wearing a simple black gown. Not far away was a figure wearing a black gown but also a veil covering its face.
“Guests, ma’am, they claim to be friends of the doctor.” Strax told the veiled figure.
The veiled figure turned to them. “Is this true?” She asked carefully.
“Given that he gave us this address, combined with the walk from Baltimare, yes.” Hammer Strike replied.
“I feel I must ask are you from the past or the future?” She asked.
“If I could answer that fully I would, for history seems to show both ways. For now though, the future, but some of my past is still a mystery to even myself.” He answered.
“Joyful, could you please check the locks? Strax, the window covers.” The veiled figure said immediately the pegasus made her way to the doors closing them. The click of the locks could be heard moments later. Strax carefully brought the black curtains over the glass windows blocking out any prying eyes. Joyful brought out an old oil lamp and lit it placing it on the table. The figure carefully removed her veil, revealing what at first glance resembled a pony. However, on a second glance several things made themselves known. Rather than fur her face was covered in thick green scales. Her mane seemed a bit more rugged than a normal pony’s, almost like lion fur. Her teeth, for what little they saw of them, were pointed. Her eyes were slitted in the low light and from her forehead sprouted a horn more akin to a antler than a unicorn horn.
“I am Vastra.” She introduced herself. “This is Joyful Flint.” She gestured to the pegasus mare, “And you, of course, have met Strax.”
“A pleasure to meet you. I am Hammer Strike, and this is Lunar Fang.” He said in response, gesturing towards the thestra.
Lunar Fang only stared, but soon gave her own tentative nod of the head with a slight smile, showing her own fangs. A gesture in her culture showing that she considered them on equal ground. She raised up and opened her mouth. “I am sorry, but, may I ask a question in return to our questions?” Her tone of voice as polite and civil.
“I am a Kirin” She responded to the question before Lunar Fang could ask. “Or Reptilius Equistrius if you are of a scientific persuasion, now I am trusting you are a stallion?” She asked.
“You’re a stallion?” Strax asked surprised.
Hammer Strike only pulled up his sleeve and turned the gem, and with a small flash he stood on two legs as Shawn once more, his head tilted at a small angle to keep his head from touching the roof. “Technically, yes and no.”
The Kirin face hoofed. “The ones the doctor sends me. You are male, yes?” she asked.
“Yes.” He said, swapping back to Hammer Strike.
“And why has the Doctor sent you to me?” She asked. “Forewarning, if I detect anything untrustworthy about any of you, I will eat you.”
“Let’s see, full story or the shortened one?” Hammer asked.
“It would be better if I knew everything.” She noted. “So the long version, I suppose.”
“Then I suggest a pot of tea and some refreshments. This will be a long,” She made a verbal pause on Long. “Conversation.” She finished.
Hammer Strike and Lunar Fang arrival at Unity, June Fourth, 88 ADF.
“Come on, concentrate on the now. Do not let the world distract you.” Graff shouted as he brought the blunt knife tip down on yet another vital point.
Grif grunted as he felt the strike sink in, likely leaving a bruise. Over the past years the small gryphon had grown from a cub to a fledgling. Graff had taught him what he could of speaking both in the native tongue of Gryphic and the tongue of Equestria. He had worked heavily on writing and reading. Grif took to reading it, seemed like fire, consuming the books almost as quickly as Graff could get them. Physically, the elder gryphon had worked on the younger’s body strength through hard exercise and heavy training. In the time Graff had found many interesting factors about the child, the largely notable being that he favored neither tallon in any action. To fight with both talons was a skill many warriors sought to gain over a period of many years. To be born with the ability was very rare indeed.
At a young age Graff had begun teaching Grif about pain and how to endure it. Being alone with no brood and no clan the pair’s lives were hard in the rugged land. All types of pain were the regular results of everyday struggles to survive, and the sooner Grif learned to ignore the pain, the better life would be. At six years of age (determined mainly by the time Graff found him) Graff had decided to begin his son’s instruction in weapons starting where every gryphon began, knife fighting. A knife was vital for everyday life. They were small and easy to hide. learning to properly wield a knife was a skill that would serve a gryphon well throughout his life.
Graff stabbed the practice knife back into the ground and stood in the ready position. Grif shambled to the other side of the small worn area they used to train and did the same. The two stood opposing each other. Time seemed to stop as they glared, each trying to read the other, to find some tick that would speak about the path they would take with the blade. Graff was an experienced fighter and hard to read, his expression stony as he watched Grif.
Grif, however, was young and untried. He was like an open book to the older warrior. It took almost no time for the gryphon to decide how to proceed. At some unseen signal both roared, grabbed their knives and charged. Grif made several slashes with the blade that Graff sidestepped with little effort before leading with a rough blow with the handle to Grif’s back. Surprisingly, the young gryphon did not go down from the strike. With a growl he turned on his back kicking up dust.
“Never expose your underside!” Graff yelled as he went in for the obvious strike. He felt the dagger tip rest against flesh as his tallon pinned Grifs to the ground the feel of metal under his palm revealing he had chosen the right hand. But when the smoke cleared it revealed the younger gryphon smiling. Even as Graff had the blade to his throat, Grif had a fully extended tallon resting precariously on his father's throat.
Graff gave a small grin as he backed off. “Never too proud to use your talons. You are listening to me.” He chuckled.
“Never let your enemy know you are paying attention unless engaged in battle.” Grif quoted. “Some things have to get through, old bird.”
“Well this old bird isn’t finished with you yet. Get back up. You have a long way to go, hatchling.” The gryphon warrior laughed as he returned to the ready position. One thing was clear, the spirits had a purpose in store for his son; and he would be damned if he wasn’t ready when it came for him.
Training day, June Sixteenth, 107 ADF
Pensword looked up at the teacher who loomed over him. Yet he did not seemed afraid of her presence. He only held out his own chalk board and the writing that he had created. She took it with her magic and glared momentarily at him before looking at the chalk. She furrowed her brow. “Where did you learn that word?” She asked underlining a word.
“My father taught me that one.” He liked the idea that he could spell flower correctly, yet what she had underlined was a word that he did not see a big deal about. “Mightier? What is wrong with that?” He asked while a few of the other students snickered at him.
“Just that you should not be pushing yourself.” A student called out behind him. “A bat bird like you would strain your brain if you keep on making up spelling.”
Pensword ignored the comment, though his ears twitched a little to show he heard. “Is there anything else Miss Saltwater?” He asked as she only turned to move back to the class.
“Yes, you are staying past for detention for not following directions. I asked for you to copy the sentence on the board, not invent new sayings, Pen mightier than the sword? Your father and mother are filing you with nonsense, nothing is stronger than the sword.”
Pensword bristled, he was not sure why, but he did. “Is not the purpose of school to know and push the boundaries of our knowledge?” He called out, causing the class to fall silent as Miss Saltwater turned around with a stormy glare. She took a ruler in her magic.
“Come up to the class Pensword. Talking out of turn, talking back to the teacher, being disrespectful of the teacher, not finishing your assignment, ten swatches of the ruler.”
Pensword glared. “Make it fifteen because I shall not just let that go, what brings thought of pride for he who wields a sword? What makes the fire in the heart of ponies blaze? Words Miss Saltwater, words penned by the poet, by the playwright, that is why it is-” He did not finish as the ruler swished, smacking Pensword’s smallish frame. He took it. He took all twenty lashes of the ruler. Not saying a word and only looked forward.
Miss Saltwater glared, pointing a hoof to the door. “Out.” She whispered, trembling in anger once she was done. “Until I talk to your caretakers I shall not want you setting hoof into this school room again. You are done for the day.”
Pensword only turned around and moved to take his things. “NOW!” She shouted. “Leave your stolen goods here and I shall think of returning them to you if no one else claims them.” Pensword paused, glared, and took only one thing from his desk, a feather pen his father gave him. He tucked it behind his ear and went to the door, ignoring two kicks from the the back row where a bully sat. He took his cap and placed it on his head before leaving the classroom. It did not help that he overheard one of the students snickering.
“Glad the half breed’s finally gone. He should just realize this is too much for his mind to handle.” The class laughed at the comment but Pensword ignored it. He steeled his expression and walked home, head held high and face solemn. He did not know what might happen next but he was going to continue forward in his life.
His family lived, as it turned out, in a home on the outskirts of town. He had to walk around the the market to avoid some of the stalls, as well as Mr. Whinny’s yard. He finally arrived home thirty minutes later. As he walked into the room he blinked as his mother who was painting in a small corner of their cottage stood up, placing her palette of paints down. She trotted over to her son and hugged him. Only then did he let it out and cry into his mother’s shoulder.
“Hush dear,” Moon Beam cooed. “Its all right, I had a feeling today would be hard. In fact your father and I have been talking and we feel that it might be better if we just tutor you ourselves. That means some different subjects, but I think you can do well. In fact, I wrote to my clan and they have agreed to allow my brother to come visit to teach you counting and arithmetic. He learned that while employed to a smith in Unity for the last five years.”
“Uncle Sickle Moon?” Pensword asked with shock and a smile. He snuggled a little now with his, mother feeling safe. “He’s funny. When will Gramma visit again?”
“With your Uncle.” Iron Pen replied as he walked in from the only other room in the small cottage. It had what was called an attic by his father that had been built by his father’s father as a wedding gift.
Still, the news that his Gramma was visiting caused the small pegasus to smile and start hopping around the room. “Yeah, I love it when Gramma visits. She is so fun and she has amazing stories as well.”
His mother smiled softly and stroked her son’s mane, right before a cry from the corner of the room stopped everything. She turned around and raced for the crib that was there. “Hush now, Hush now, little Whirlwind.” She whispered, picking up a baby foal from the crib. She smiled and started moving to the other room. “She’s hungry. I’ll be back a little later.” She muttered as she entered the other room, closing the door behind her.
Pensword only blinked but smiled as he looked at his father. “Where is Moon Burn?” He looked around the room before a blur launched from the platform above their heads, tackling Pensword. The two tumbled out the door with laughter as Pensword started to wrestle with his younger brother. A moment later the two were panting and laughing. While Pensword looked like a mix of his parents, his brother was almost full Thestral. The only difference was that instead of the normal yellow for his eyes, they were an emerald green color. Also, his coat was pure black and his mane and tail were a light chestnut brown.
Iron Pen only smiled as he moved to the other door leading to the “back” of the cottage and the cooking fire there. During the summer months they would cook outside. While in the winter the second room was used to cook with the large hearth and fire there. It was also where he would work on his papers and writing for the town.
“Well, come on, Should we not get to learning more of your writing?” he chuckled a little. “Also, your mother is planning a surprise for your birthday. So try to stay out of her way for the time being. Also, help out around the cottage. Just know this, she is planning something big for your birthday. And if you’re extra good, I just might give you a hint at what it is.
From Class to Home, March Seventh, 107 ADF
“...and that about sums it up.” Hammer Strike finished with a hoof to his jaw as he thought for a second.
“So two of your friends were sent back in time by the Weeping Pegasi and the Doctor believes it would be to this timeline. However, the only time you could meet them again is in the way history has decided you will meet?” The Kirin raised a brow.
“That is correct.” He responded. “Minus some details we are to talk about later.”
“And now you need to get into the palace to meet Princess Celestia so that you may set up a noble house so that thirty-six years later you can meet your friends?” She clarified further.
“Yeah.” Hammer Strike answered.
“And you plan to circumvent the time between by using Timelord technology to freeze yourselves in a moment in time?” She finished.
“I’ll tell you more on that later.” He answered.
“Joyful.” Vastra turned to the pegasus. “Contact Lord Pansy and inform him I will be unable to make our appointment, then see to getting our guests cleaned up and ready for a trip to the palace.” She noted, slipping her veil back down as the doors were unlocked.
Moonshade, now Lunar Fang, shivered at the name. “I,” She leaned over to Hammer Strike. “Lord Pansy in this time period made it a ruling that school only teach to those untouched by Thestral blood… Luna will repeal that after a brush from the future.”
“Tough times are ahead of us.” He replied.
“I’ll have baths drawn for the both of you.” She noted, “We shall make for the palace in exactly two hours.”
“Perhaps it would be best for Lunar Fang to stay here.” Hammer Strike mentioned.
“What? I am not going to just let you go wondering about this city unescorted. I mean, I, you are the last of the three charges I was given to guard with my life. I will not let you also slip from my grasp.”
“And I do not want any harm to come to you, I do not know how the guards will react, as you have stated and as history dictates, we have a problem. And I would rather you stay here and be safe than enter the castle and have the guards stop you to wait outside.” Hammer Strike said, his tone seemed to raise. “I know it sounds like a terrible idea, but this is something that has to be done.”
“Come now sir, it won’t be so bad.” Strax attempted to cheer Lunar Fang up. “We will get this all sorted out, find your friends and cover them in acid.”
Lunar Fang actually moved to a crouch as if to attack, “You dare to try that and I SHALL RIP YOUR LIMBS OFF!” Her voice rose as she outright yelled at the strange stallion type, thing. She was not even sure if she was looking at a pony at all.
“Ah, perfect, there is the fire! Keep that up and you’ll be tearing your enemies apart in no time.” Strax smiled, excited at the reaction.
Lunar Fang just stared, more liked glared. “You are a Pony I do not like,” She looked to Hammer Strike quickly. “I think I will stay here, and keep an eye on a threat.”
“Good.” Hammer Strike replied softly.
“Take it in.” Graff said calmly as he eyed Grif holding the bow. Grif was nine years old and Fledglings were expected to learn the gryphon bow at this age. A Gryphon bow was a much larger weapon then a pony bow. It stretched out a full four and a half feet unstrung, coming down to just under four when properly strung and ready. Made from two separate pieces of treated wood, the bow had a clasp and a specially made hinge at the center allowing for it to be bent fully in half when on the move. Two strings carefully braided together allowed for extra tension and force. However, the bow itself was hard to draw and it was expected for a young warrior Gryphon to completely be able to draw the bow and shoot it before their teenage years.
The bow was almost as important as the knife in a gryphon’s life as it not only aided in war, but also in hunting.
Grif, however already had the bow half drawn despite the weight. It was unusual but not unheard of for a gryphon to be able to draw the bow somewhat at a young age. But to draw it so far and hold it was something Graff was unprepared for. The older gryphon verbally coached the younger through proper breathing and concentration as Grif carefully notched an arrow like he had been shown.
“There is only you and your prey. The arrow is a part of you. Will it and it will obey. Consider your target, examine it, visualize where the arrow will land, and above all else, missing is not a possibility. Do not make it a possibility and you will not miss under your own power.” The target was a simple bit of hay crafted into a bundle. Graff eyed Grif’s stance as the youngster locked his drawn arm in place giving full control to his other arm as he sighted down the shaft. “And when you feel the time is right, loose.”
Grif took another moment and released the arrow. The shaft took off from the bow and quickly imbedded itself in the inner circle dividing the outside and the center.
“Well, your target isn’t dead, but you managed to stagger him.” The elder gryphon laughed. Grif perked up hearing this. He smiled wide at his fathers praise.
“Don’t let it go to your head. If your target is still breathing, he can still gut you.” The gryphon added.
“Of course” Grif nodded dutifully.
“Try again. This time I want you to do as you do with the throwing blades.” The gryphons looked to another target this one in the rough shape of a pony and lined with deer skin. The heart, neck, and head areas resembling a well used pincushion. “Tune all out but the wind, let it speak to you, find what it’s telling you.”
Grif took the bow up once more, after starting at it for a time something seemed to click. He held it in front of him in a diagonal fashion. Drawing another arrow he notched it and drew, this time utilizing the muscles in both his arms and his abdomen. he drew it back even farther. Leveling the bow with his eyes he looked at the target with a fixed glare. The wind blew at his face carrying the salty scent of the ocean. Grif closed his eye’s for a moment and took in the feeling of the wind, all gryphons loved the wind, being the one force pegasi didn’t actively dictate from nearby Equestria, the wind was free and did as it wished. Grif’s eyes opened slowly as the wind at his face died away. Quite suddenly the young gryphons talons released their hold on the arrow just as the winds changed course and a breeze erupted from his back, the arrow took off on it’s deadly path before embedding itself in the target. Less than four inches above the bullseye.
Graff just stared at his son curiously.
July Eighteenth, 110 ADF
Pensword smiled as he walked with his mother into the woods surrounding the Mountainside. In fact they were heading towards what was going to be a birthday party. He looked at his mother. “Mom, are we going to the brook?” he asked with a small smile.
“Yes dear, your father and I thought that it might be fun to have your birthday where we found you. Now please know that we are only guessing your age at the moment.” She looked at her son and ruffled her wing over his mane a little. “We first thought you might have been a year old, only.. I think we were wrong there. So we are going to be celebrating your ninth birthday here.” She smiled before looking to the horizon. “My dear little Pensword, I want you to know that I love you. You will do amazing things. Just follow your heart.”
“I will mommy.” Pensword replied with a smile. He looked back towards his mother. “Mom?” He asked before barreling through the question. “When will I get to go hunting?” He did not miss a beat. “I heard the mayor talking at the market and he says that some of the border is a little shaky. I, I want to protect you and Dad and Whirlwinid, and Moon Burn.” He blinked back as for a moment his mother saw eyes that held what Thestrals called wise old eyes. Another blink and they were back to the cheerful bright eyes that she loved. She gave a side hug with her wing while they continued to walk.
“Well, I guess I can give you that little surprise early, but tonight I was going to take you camping to start teaching you what you need to know. Most thestrals go on their first hunt on their tenth year. Now, when we go camping it will not be just about the hunt. I need to teach you how to survive out here, to live off the land. Thestrals are semi nomadic so I will teach you how to live off the land and how to treat wounds.” She smiled at her son. “As my oldest, I also have a duty to teach you the customs of my side of the blood line. Symbolically, I gave you my blood, and your father gave you his blood to make you of our lineage. You are a part of me, as I am a part of you. You then must help teach your brother Moon Burn. And when your sister comes of age, you and your brother must teach her what you know.”
They walked through a few more trees and they were there, the brook babbled and played. And old boulder had crashed from the top of the stream after the first year, standing on the river bank. It had come to be called Orphan rock by the family in commemoration of his finding and adoption. Around the rock stood his father, brother Moon Burn, and sister Whirlwind, who was trying to climb the rock while flapping her leathery wings and making sounds that were cute chirps and whistles. Pensword smiled. “Does that mean I get to help her learn to fly?”
“Yes, my son.” His mother replied with a smile. “That is part of being an older brother. Also to protect her from any suitors that may wish her ill.”
Pensword nodded solemnly, well as well as a nine year old colt could act solemn. “I shall do my best mom.” He replied before brightening up. “MOM!!! Gramma is here… GRAMMA came to visit!!!”
His mother only smiled and pushed him a little with her head. “Well why do you not go say hello? Perhaps she will be willing to tell you a legend from our family tonight. It is your birthday and you are old enough, I think, to hear some of her stories.”
Moon Beam smiled as she watched her son race off towards her mother. She shivered a little and pulled a sketch pad out from her saddle back and began to draw. As she did so she began to cry a little as a little bits of white glowing specks twisted and and turned in her eyes. “My poor, poor baby.” She muttered. The sketch pad showing the outline of what later generations would recognize as Queen Chrysalis.
She suddenly looked up as she heard a cry and found her son laying sprawled out on the ground, on his back blinking and giggling was Whirlwind who moved to try and hop up again and she saw her hover for a moment an inch on the ground only to fall back down on Pensword’s back with another giggle as her son grunted in annoyance. She could not help but laugh as a moment later her ears heard Pensword telling his sister to try the same trick on her other brother who was laughing at the antics and who missed the verbal request until he found Whirlwind landing on his back while Pensword chuckled. He walked up to his brother and plopped to the ground with a happy sigh. Smiling, Moon Beam closed her pad. It could wait for later. She would join and enjoy her time with her family.
April fourteenth, 110 AFD
The palace of the two pony sisters sat in the sunlight, both welcoming and foreboding, threatening and comforting, beautiful and terrible. It sat as a monument to pony building power and yet the knowledge of the powerful being who embodied it made even the strongest stallion stop to consider the implications of it.
In the courtyard on this sunny day Celestia stood brandishing her practice sword in front of five fully armed and ready members of the elite military. The two sides stared each other down for a small eternity before some unsaid signal passed between them. The five rushed their princess fiercely. Celestia, for her part, responded in kind as her sword rained down in practiced thrusts and slices, each carefully timed and elegantly accomplished.
Hammer Strike raised a brow as he watched, still at a distance. For some reason his mind took in any possible patterns in the attack, from both sides.
The battle carried on as Celestia traded blows with a guard in front of her, another charged her from behind, grabbing a fallen guard’s club in her magic she intercepted the charging guard with an upward swing, the force from the swing completely flipped the stallion over landing him heavily on his armored back.
She hooked the tip of her blade in the guard of the other soldier’s blade, flipping it from his control, the blade being seized in her own magic as it came down, hovering with Celestia’s an inch from the soldier's neck.
“Yield.” She said, her voice seemed much lighter than Hammer Strike remembered, but it held a dark undertone.
The guard threw up his hooves in surrender and Celestia dropped the swords as ponies stomped in admiration, or more likely fear of their princess’ display.
“Wunderbar.” Hammer Strike commented, surprisingly close by. The guards having missed him.
In a knee jerk reaction Celestia who still held the club swung it in the direction of the voice before turning her head. The club in question hit Hammer Strikes muzzle at full force.
Only to cause his head to shift slightly to the left .
He stood there a moment, blinked, then he lowered his head and put a hoof on his muzzle, shifting a little. “Ohoho.” He chuckled, looking back up to Celestia as he put his hoof down, his eyes taking in her response. “Good hit.” He gave a small grin. “Hello Celestia.”
The princess’ eyes searched his face with several different emotions, Hammer Strike could see surprise, joy, hope, disbelief, denial, and possibly… shame? “It, it can not be.”
“It has been a long time, has it not?” He questioned as his brain processed the emotional reading. “But, enough on that. How are you doing?”
Celestia looked at Hammer Strike then at the nearby nobles. “LEAVE US!” Celestia shouted in the Royal Canterlot Voice. As the words left her mouth the nobles, servants and guards scrambled away, hastily grabbing the soldiers and leaving the courtyard bare save for she and Hammer Strike.
Once they were alone she approached Hammer Strike, poking him with a hoof, running it gingerly over his face. “What type of trick be this?” She said poking his nose.
“No trick, but business left unfinished.” He commented before she poked his nose. “Good hit by the way, I think you might have broken my nose.” He said with a slight shrug.
“If you truly be him, then you would say something completely out of the box.” Celestia noted “But it has been more than seven hundred years.”
“I am sure I covered the out of the box saying, I did just compliment you on possibly breaking my nose.” He said, chuckling lightly.
“....” Celestia squinted at him. “I suppose this is so, but if this be some sort of cruel joke I will drop the full force of the sun on thee.”
“Perhaps this could alleviate some of your conflict.” Hammer replied, pulling out a scroll from his saddlebags, the one given to him by Future Celestia.
“So it is another letter from our future self.” Celestia said analyzing the scroll, scrutinizing, then proceeding to incinerate the scroll with her own magic, still sealed. “Very well.” Celestia stood tall as she stared down at him…..
… And then she glomped him.
His stood there, confused a moment as he glanced left and right.Then he tentatively returned the hug.
“You always come.” Hot tears trickled down Celestias face as she embraced him. “Just when you are needed most.”
“I would not just sit by.” He replied with a soft smile. “My question still stands, how are you?”
“Villages along the border are vanishing at a phenomenal rate. The gryphons have shut off all communications and trade. The ponies complain about the zebras passing through Equestria, and the diplomatic room is still being cleaned after what I did to the minotaur ambassador.” Celestia sobbed as steam clouded above them. “I’ve failed at everything you taught us.”
Hammer Strike took in the details as he listened. “You have not failed, there are problems rising yes, but you have not failed.” He said. “Action is required, not fighting, not when you do not know all the details. Have you sent search parties to the location, and scouts to nearby towns that have not fallen yet, out of sight?”
“They have all been empty.” Celestia said. “By the time a team gets to one of the villages it’s been picked clean, the buildings still stand but there is nopony for miles.”
“Have you tried sending soldiers to possible targets, and keeping them out of sight but keeping watch on the city?” He asked.
“I can’t send a team of soldiers to a border village without some sort of proof or else it could be called a provocation for war.” Celestia said.
“Do your troops know the basics of surviving off minimal requirements, and are very good at remaining out of sight?” He asked.
“You sound as if my soldiers are able to move like Thestrals.” Celestia laughed.
“Perhaps an idea for you to look into, or perhaps one under the cover of night.” He mentioned. “Specifically you Luna.” He called out.
Celestia looked around. “Luna? But, she is n…”
The shadow of one of the plants stretched outwards towards Hammer Strike before darkness bled from the ground taking the form of the lunar alicorn and quickly gaining color as the blue figure collided with him.
“HAMMER STRIKE! IT BRINGS US SUCH JOY TO SEE THEE AGAIN!” Luna shouted not too terribly far from his ear.
Hammer Strike’s expression didn’t change much before he took a breath in and finally spoke. “You might have to give me a moment. I got that sentence, but my ears are ringing.” He blinked a couple times. “Would you kindly not use the Royal Canterlot Voice?” He asked, smiling as he returned the hug.
Luna smiled sheepishly. “We are sorry, we were just overcome with joy to see thee again.”
“It is wonderful to see you both well.” He replied, still grinning softly. “But I have sadly come for more than just visit.” He said.
“What dost thou need? Name it and it is thine up to half of Equestria.” Luna offered.
“I am afraid what I require is unavailable for years to come. I hope neither of you mind my house being revived once again.” He chuckled. “I have plenty of years to come, but I need to get some things set up first…”
“We shall offer whatever assistance we can. What will you need? Where would you request for your holdings?, Name it and it will be yours.”
“Somewhere near, of course.” He smiled. “But first, there is somewhere I need to... “ He sighed. “Set things up. I need to talk to you alone at some point, Celestia.” His mood had flipped from a smile to something serious. “And Luna, we have much to talk about later, perhaps later in the day or night when you are free.”
“Of course.” Luna said before yawning. “But we must return to bed, we hope we will be able to show you our work before our trip to Gryphonia.” Luna said. “Our smithing has improved greatly since thou saw it last.”
“Good to hear. You might have to show me some of your projects when you are awake.” Hammer grinned softly again.
Luna nodded as she left the two alone.
“So what words did you have for us?” Celestia asked Hammer Strike.
“The place I need to set this up at is somewhere only you and I have access to.” He said. “There are, some things that need to be stored securely.”
Returns, June Sixth, 88 ADF
The island Grif and Graff’s village currently rested on was a mere couple dozen square miles of rocky terrain with no real tree’s for wildlife. So it was common for gryphons to fly to one of the larger islands to hunt. Grif stalked carefully through the deep wood of the uninhabited island due south of his home. He was no stranger to the wood or the necessary silence of tracking. However, this time he was alone.
Grif was twelve now, he had been with Graff on a few dozen hunts over the last few years, being trained in the necessary skills for tracking and killing game. now grif was finally allowed to enter the forest on his own to see if he could provide game for himself and others if necessary.
Back in the very far back gryphons had been aerial hunters. But hundreds of years of new ideas and new technology had caused them to shift their efforts to primarily on foot. Setting his bow down the young gryphon lowered his face to the ground to examine a hoof print. Judging by the size and the indent he could tell it was a deer but the mark was old, over a week old. retrieving his bow the gryphon carried on.
Tracking was a sensitive skill, every step needed to be carefully calculated, every sense used to carefully monitor the forest around them. Sound, sight, feeling, even taste was necessary in keeping on the trail while also keeping oneself invisible. It was a good hour later that grif came across more tracks, this creature was something new, similar to a deer but larger and heavier, still the tracks where fresh, he stalked through the forest with a practiced movement. A half hour later he found a clearing, standing in the clearing was a large deep brown creature. It stood on four hooves but at almost two feet taller than Grif. It’s eye’s showed a general contentment with it’s simple grazing, no hint of intelligence, Grif smiled at this, Graff had been very strict about checking for this feature in the past, he had made it very clear to Graff that meat should never be taken from the bones of an intelligent being.
Grif smiled as he observed the creatures large antlers, this would be a mark of pride for Graff to bring home such a large beast. Carefully, Grif raised his bow, notching a arrow. He moved to take aim for where the neck joint would be, it would be a fast kill, near painless. The gryphon aimed carefully taking record of his target and the wind and drowning out all else. He was just releasing his grip when the creature let out a loud grunting sound, Grif stepped back cracking a twig under his paw as he released the arrow. The creature looked up as the arrow went low taking out the large beasts knees. The creature hit the ground with a thud and bleats and cries of pain echoed.
Grif drew his knife, his talons shaking as he approached, only once had he seen Graff miss a shot, the deer they had been hunting had been hit in the lung, a slow and painful death, the elder gryphon had been quick to take his knife and slit the creatures throat giving it a merciful end. now Graff looked at the beast he had hunted. Without a doubt the arrow had snapped the legs at the knee, a wound that would never heal. Shaking like a leaf the young gryphon looked into the creature’s face as it called to him in a pathetic pleading grunting. “Forgive me.” he said, before plunging his knife into the creature's throat. For the first time, the hot splatter of blood covered Grif’s feathers.
Grif took a minute to breathe. Guilt, of course, attempted to cloud his judgement, but practicality and reason beat it down. He had intended to kill the beast and despite how it had happened, the deed had been done. To leave the body behind would simply result in some predator gaining a free meal from his hard work. Calming himself Grif knelt beside the belly of the beast and began the grim task of cleaning the carcass for travel. Looking at the size of the beast he realized he would possibly need to flag down a fishing boat, towing this creature across the lake would be impossible. It was larger than he was.
The way things are, October Seventh, 113 ADF
Pensword looked around fluffling his wing feathers as he followed his family into the pasture beyond his their property. The lands belonged to the princesses but they were open to the public. The reason for this journey was to visit with his extended family on his mother’s side. He did not know why his mother was looking back at him so much, but it seemed that she was agitated. Still, she forced a smile. “Dear?” She asked her husband with a smile. “I will take you and the youngsters to the banquet table in our honor.” She smiled as two warriors stepped from the shadow. They were in mismatched armor and carried wooden daggers. “I think my mother wants to speak to Pensword at the moment.” She turned and kissed her son on the head. “Now behave yourself dear and listen to your grandmother. Now what is her name. Not what you call her but what does the rest of the tribe call her?”
Pensword blinked, smiling a little. “Shimmering Star. Her husband was Crescent Sword, their oldest daughter was you, Mom, Second oldest and next in line to take Grandma’s place is Dancing Star, then a younger brother, Mountain Star. Mountain Star is married to Glistening Dew, and they have three children.”
His mother held up a wing. “Okay, okay Pensword that is more then enough information. You will do well, now, how do you address Gramma?” She looked to the guards who were waiting silently.
“Leader of the Night, Clan of Dreams, Moon kissed Shimmering Star.” Pensword replied with a smile. Moon Beam nodded and smiled in approval while the two guards stepped forward to escourt him to his Gramma’s tent. It was not till the others were out of sight that one of the guards spoke.
“You do not need to call her those titles. You are her first grandchild. She said to tell you that you can call her Gramma if you so wish.”
Pensword only smiled. “Moonkissed Gramma.” He muttered with a smile. “I like that sound.” He blinked at the two guards, who chuckled as they approached the tent. Candlelight streamed from the inside.
“Clan Leader.” The guard on the left called out. “We have brought you the pony you wish to meet with tonight.”
A strong, commanding voice of the feminine gender answered. “Let him enter and stand guard. Lower the outside tent flap after he enters.”
“As you command.” Came the voice of the Guard to Pensword’s left. Pensword gulped as he felt a pole push his hind legs forward into the tent. Behind him the tent closed, cutting out the slightly chilly mountain air and the fresh blanket of snow on the ground. Inside the tent was dyed in many night time and subdued colors. In the middle of the rug laid floor, a fire crackled merrily, and lanterns hung from the poles holding the roof of the tent up.
From a sedan of cushion an old Thestral Mare with white mane and tail got up and trotted over to him. “Grandson.” She replied happily as she embraced him with her hooves.
“Moonkissed Gramma.” he replied cheerfully with his own hug. Gramma chuckled as she released him from her hug. “You, you wanted to talk to me? Is, is mommy in trouble for teaching me Thestral stuff? Because I begged her to and,” He found a hoof on his muzzle while Gramma chuckled brightly.
“No my child, she is not in trouble. If anything I am pleased she is teaching you. In fact I asked you to come here so that I too may teach you.” She moved to sit down on her sedan. “Come, sit at my hooves and learn a little tonight.” She paused and smiled, her eyes seemed to twinkle like starlight.
“First, I must bring in a clan recorder.” She tapped a hoof to a small metal disk that emitted a nice little ding when tapped. A moment later from another part of the tent, a smaller Male Thestral with charcoal mane and tail and an Onyx coat stood with yellow slitted eyes. “Silent Night, Make a record that I do hereby pass a title to my grandson, he is of age to earn his first title.” She looked back and leaned towards her grandson. “Pensword, it is without shame you prance about in my tribe and yet you do not have a proper name of a Thestral, you father does not use his, nor can I really go against the fates in giving you your own. However as your mane and tail are white as the moon, as I am too. I give you a title for which all Thestrals that come through will know. You are Moonkissed, the Moon upon your birth saw the importance of your life and to remind you that the day is only half of the world, kissed you to give you your mane and tail so as to remind you always of what guards the night sky.” She looked back at Silent Night. “Make it so and make it known to the tribe that we have another Moonkissed of the tribe.” She smiled a little as she waited for the Thestral to leave. “A cousin of yours.” She smiled as she let Pensword speak in excitement.
“Your grandson from Dancing Star and Moon Wolf.” He responded with a happy smile.
“I see you are learning your ancestors, for a thestral that is important. Keep this up and we may give you the records or let you transcribe the records of your direct ancestors.” She smiled before she let it droop a little, her voice changing. “Pensword, my grandson,” She looked around and patted a part of the sedan. “Please, join me up here and learn about a secret of the Thestrals.”
Pensword blinked and quickly moved to sit at his grandmother’s side. He looked confused, but remained still as his grandmother surprised him by answering his unasked question.
“Pensword, my dear, dear grandson. I do not just call you that by adoption, but I truly consider you part of this family.” She looked at the tent. “Before you arrived, I truly feared my daughter would only have sadness to come.” She paused as she moved a hoof to have her grandson look back at her and not at a corner of the room.
“Still, you must learn that to many outside of the Thestrals, they see these powers are hoaxes and make believe. Tonight you shall be given a glance into two of these magics. Before you ask there are three. They are as follows. Dream Stalkers.” She smiled. “Thestrals believe that a nightmare given time, will grow stronger and become manifest into the real world, that is why those with this gift become guardians. They sleep when we are awake so when we sleep they can hunt the bad dreams. They also craft these webs.” She pointed to a large pattern sewn into the top of the tent, then to a smaller one hanging on the side of the sedan. “These are to catch the nightmares to let the hunters finish them off with a little more ease. Still there are times they slip past and they must hunt in the dream world.” She smiled. “When you sleep tonight, you shall be given a dream of what that is like.”
She turned to another part of the tent. “The second is those that dream beyond. Those you can see all around, the images along the wall are of things past, present, and to come. Things that some say are hidden, can be seen by those that dream beyond. They also can see a bit into the future, things that will impact their lives in ways unthinkable. They do not know when or how or what will cause it to happen, only that it will happen. Sometimes these events they catch a glimpse of are ages away. The first time I heard of this, it was by a little colt who said he saw a bright shiny metal object as it sailed across the black expanse of the night sky like a sail boat would across the ocean.”
Pensword turned back to his grandmother with a curious manner. “What is the last one? You said there are three.”
“This one is rare, very rare. In fact none in this tribe possess it. It is the Sight Beyond. They catch glimpses of friends, or family who have gone before. They see past the curtain of life into death.” She blinked and turned her grandson’s face to her again. “Why do you look over into that corner?” She was fearful that he was too much like a squirrel to learn any more.
“Why do you ignore the stallion who is smiling at you with love and pride like my dad does with my mom?” Pensword’s question pierced her mind and heart like an arrow as she looked up to the corner and quickly smiled and nodded her head. She looked back down.
“Because my dear, he knows that I am teaching you and I think he would not like it if you were to ignore my teachings tonight.” She pulled him into a hug as she had a rare event. She had a slight moment of a dream. She hugged him tighter. “Oh, you shall not understand me but I can see where my daughters have gotten their gift. I can only say that you will be confused by these words. Death will touch you many times, and some day your past of who you were and where you came from will be answered. You have refused to follow death. I am proud you have not. I exhort you my grandson, do not follow him any time soon.” She pulled away slowly with some tears. “Before we continue onto the details, I wish to tell you this about those with the sight. They almost always have great tasks ahead of them, and they draw from that gift to help them through those hard times.” She smiled. “Someday, I feel you shall meet one who can have sight beyond, when you do, I feel you shall know what comfort they can give.”
She let go after a little time. “Go, go and join your family for your meal. Go and eat.” She smiled as she made a shooing motion with her hoof. “Go on, I shall join you in a little bit.” She smiled, waiting for her grandson to gallop away before sighing and sinking a little into her Sedan. “Bring me Parchment and ink.” She hollered, knowing she had to get a sketch down. She blinked away tears as in her mind she heard and saw a town being destroyed by fire while belongings were packed away to some unknown location.
Hearth Warming 113 ADF
“Alright.” Hammer Strike said. “So that is finally set up.” He said, staring at the system before him. At the moment they were located in a back room, which was used to store books that were not meant for public eyes.
“I have set everything up carefully.” Celestia said. “No one should be able to find the two of you without our knowledge.”
“So?” Lunar Fang asked as she looked around from under her cloak. “Why are we here? Also, just what is this plan you are going to do that will keep us young?”
“The plan is to use this device to basically, in short, put you in a painting. We’ll be in there for the time and then when it is time, pulled out. To us, it will be only a moment, perhaps a couple of seconds, but on the outside years can go by.” Hammer Strike explained.
“Is this more of this time magic?” She snorted. “What kind of friends have you made and will make with time involved.” She muttered. “Stuck in a painting. That sounds downright fearful. I mean being turned into a two dimensional painting just seems wrong.”
“Trust me, it is not as bad as being a statue.” Hammer responded. “You would be just like I was, awake, and watching the world go by.” He responded.
She shivered. “Waiting and watching and not moving?” She smiled. “Uh, send me into the painting please, I think I would like to get this over with as fast as possible.”
Hammer Strike smiled as she put her hoof onto the orb. “See you in thirty something years.” His smile shifted slightly.
Her body glowed for a moment before seemingly dissolving. a few moments later the painting in front of them gained a small, nearly unnoticeable figure in the background.
“Well that part is taken care of.” Celestia noted. “Now comes the fun part.”
Hammer Strike smiled, turning sad as he looked at the painting. “Sorry.” He muttered as he turned towards Celestia. “Now on to the next part… Where did we put the Golem?” He asked.
Luna came into view quite suddenly from the shadows holding a life sized replica of Hammer Strike in her magic.
“Wonderful. Now we just need to put my consciousness in there and my body in there…” He said looking between the golem and the painting he was to enter.
“Are you fully prepared? This likely will not be a pleasant experience.” Celestia noted.
“As prepared as I shall ever be.” He replied.
“You realise controlling the golem will mean you will not be able to sleep for the entirety of the time between then and now?” Luna asked.
“It is only... “ He sighed. “Around thirty-six years…” He took a breath in. “But I do not have much of a choice.” He looked to Luna. “I have to.” He gave a sad smile. “And I am willing to suffer if it means getting who I came for back.”
Celestia’s horn lit as she turned towards Hammer Strike. “Very well.” There was a sudden blast of white light. Hammer Strike felt heavy inertia followed by an intense dizziness. The light faded moments later with him currently floating in Luna’s magic.
“Oh good grief.” He muttered shaking his head lightly.
Celestia gently moved the orb to the now unconscious body’s hoof. In moments, it too translated into a painting. This time it was a lone figure standing on a rocky landscape.
“And so begins the resurgence of house Strike.” Celestia noted.
“Once again.” Hammer chuckled. “As said, if you need me, I will be around for thirty six or more years.” He smiled sadly, his eyes looking at the paintings once again. “This is going to take some time for me to adjust to this…”
And so we begin, June Sixth, 88 ADF
On a high, rocky cliff, Grif stood across from Graff in an old worn in circle. The older gryphon stood holding a large two handed axe. Grif stood with a one handed sword clutched in each talon.
“Aller de l'avant ancien bird.” Grif taunted the gryphon in front of him. In the last couple years Graff had been teaching Grif Phrench, the language was spoken a lot back in the lower Kingdoms of Gryphonia and was the most commonly spoken language aside from Gryphic in the empire. Graff’s father, Groff, had been very adamant that Graff should learn to speak the tongue fluently and Graff had taken this standard with his own son. For the last two years the two had spoken to one another almost entirely in this dialect.
“Vous ne devriez pas être si rapide pour répondre à vos doom jeune.” Graff responded before charging, axe raised. Grif parried to the left, avoiding the charge by inches before lashing out with a sword on Graffs lower back. Grif was fourteen and had been spending the better part of the last two years learning the weapon that he had taken too, the one handed sword. he had spent time with the two handed axe Graff was known for but in the end he liked the speed the two lighter weapons offered him. Not being a swordsmen himself, Graff had needed to ask for help form one of the few gryphons who would be willing to hear him out. Grif’s sword training had been swift and brutal, but the results had been obvious. Grif was talented with the sword and able to used both hands in tandem with the natural agility of a gryphon to quite an effect.
Grif made the mistake of sparing himself a laugh, only to be smacked in the face by one of Graff’s wings. As the younger gryphon staggered the older took his chance to recover and resume the offensive, the air whistling with the cry of his battle axe.
Grif was kept for the most part on his toes as he avoided the powerful axe. Practice weapons or not, those swings could break bones. Finally catching an opening, the young gryphon managed to lock one of his blades under the haft of the axe and return with a second swing to the abdomen.
Graff staggered backwards as Grif took the offensive again. Swinging his arms with timed strikes, he managed to push the old gryphon back. He swung for Graff’s talons with the intent of disarming him, only for the elder gryphon to suddenly duck and charge hitting him under the jaw and sending him to the ground.
“Pas encore prêt peut-être?” Graff laughed a bit. “C'est assez pour aujourd'hui aller laver” the old gryphon ordered. Grumbling, the younger gryphon got to his feet. Rubbing his jaw, he sheathed the blades and headed inside to clean up. One day he’d beat that old bird.
Still not ready, July Seventh, 115 ADF
Hammer Strike stared at the clock in his room. Four thirty-two PM, he read to himself. Giving a sigh, his eyes turned back towards the desk he was seated at, his attention heading back towards the calendar before him. December 25th:
Hearths Warming.
The only thing that came to mind was spending it with friends and family, but there was a slight problem with that.
He leaned on the desk, placing a hoof to the side of his head as he tried to think of something to do. The workers were given a break to go visit family, and he didn’t want to bother anyone, or anypony.
He shook his head, taking a look around his room once again. He was given a room to stay in at the castle while his house was being built.
A flash in the room caused him to blink a few times, his attention turning towards the edge of his desk, a scroll tied by a red ribbon sat there, waiting to be opened.
Reaching over he grabbed the scroll and broke the wax seal holding it together.
‘Hammer Strike,
I hope you are well, we are sending Luna to accompany you to our Hearths Warming dinner with us, this is not a big formal event, so you do not need to worry about any bothersome company. We hope to have you join us.
~Celestia’
There was a sudden pop in the room behind him, causing him to turn around to find Luna.
“Nice to see you Luna.” Hammer Strike said aloud.
“Good evening Hammer Strike.” Luna smiled.
“Certainly, though I have found myself sitting in this room for the most part.” Hammer Strike responded.
“We figured thou wouldst be.” Luna responded. “Hence why we decided to have you over.”
Hammer Strike hummed to himself. “Company tends to be nice…”
“You are always so distant on your visits.” Luna sighed. “We enjoy the time we have with you.”
“I…” He sighed. “I am just trying to bring myself back from what happened not too long ago.” Hammer replied.
“It will not come easily if you are alone.” Luna said. “The company of others can help to sooth the mind.”
“You tell me that, but you should know how difficult that is for me.” He responded.
“I know.” Luna sighed. “But we must try.”
Hammer Strike sighed in return. “And try we shall.” He said as he stood up. “Well… Shall we?”
“Yes, let us.” Luna smiled.
Hearths Warming, December 25, 88 ADF
Pensword paused as he took in the winter landscape before turning to his mother. He looked back at the tracks as he moved the small bow from his back. While doing so his mind recalled the dream he had. He had seen the Nightmares, or rather representations of the creatures that feed on a Pony’s nightmares. They were dark creatures, full of shadows and twisting shapes and forms. He saw how the Nightmare snares worked, as well as how a Dreamstalker worked with the snare to end a Nightmare. He also was given a glimpse at hunting Nightmares that avoided the Snares. Still, it was a most interesting night.
He looked back to Moon Beam. His mother was only watching this time. She was there to make sure that he would do the right thing. He was hoping not to bleed his kill this time. However, he was prepared to do anything. He paused as he swiveled his ears, catching a noise. He filtered out his mother’s own sounds as he moved slowly behind a bush. Pushing himself low to the ground he inched towards the opening and saw the creature. A deer was grazing and it would, he realized, make a nice gift to give to his gramma’s tribe. They were still camped out due to the heavier snowfall this year after the new year came and went. He moved the bow and notched an arrow crafted using his own molted feathers as fletching. He slowed his breathing and crept slowly before pausing as he noticed the Deer freeze, its own ears swiveling around looking for the noise it heard.
Pensword pulled back and while knowing he had a poor angle, he had to take the shot before the creature bolted. He paused his breathing and let the arrow fly. The arrow’s song was music to his ears as it cut through the silence. It hit the Deer, or rather, buck, with a solid thunk. A moment later, it collapsed to the ground, taken down in one shot. Pensword blinked in wonderment that he had hit the mark. His mother rushed to check the creature and looked back at her son nodding her head in amazement. “My son.” her voice breaking the silence of the spell. “You are ready for your lone hunt. But first, come, and let us prepare this creature for trade with the diamond Dogs who live in the mountains this time of year. We will tan the hide as well to give to your Gramma to display with pride in the camp.”
Pensword smiled and nodded his head. “Of course, mother.” He replied as he stepped forward before he jerked his head and notched another arrow to his bow. He saw shadows moving about the border of the meadow.
“Well, well, well.” The voice called as the shadows walked into the clearing. “A thestral teaching a kidnapped foal and turning him into a creature of night and nightmares.” The Unicorn wearing armor of a mercenary was smiling almost with a gleeful look. Behind him where two pegasus. “I do say, if you will stay still boy, I will save you from this monster’s spell.”
Pensword did not let them finish as he spoke still pointing the arrow at the unicorn, who had yet to draw his sword. “She is my mother. I was abandoned by my birth family due to my looks. She and my father adopted me and I shall not let you free me from my family. You make another move-” He did not say another word as the Unicorn had brushed him off as he pulled a throwing dagger from the belt, that was as far as he got before an arrow buried itself into one of the few exposed parts of the armor.
Pensword quickly drew an arrow and lose it again at the Pegasus who charged his mother and found himself suddenly tackled and pinned by the mad Pegasus he had left alone. He could see a dagger tied to the wing and he did not close his eyes, he only narrowed it and spat at the Pegasus as he read heroes did in defiance. The Pegasus roared and moved to end his life only for Moon Beam to finish the job with her own hunting arrow. Pensword pushed the mercenary off himself and looked around the meadow. “Mom,” he began. “We should get a sled and bring this stallions in, the guard might have a wanted poster for them.”
His mother gave a curt nod, the took a close look at her son. “Are you alright?” She asked as she looked around the meadow. Her son had taken two stallions down without a problem. She looked back and could see him shaking. “We will rest.” She replied. She thought he was shaking from shock.
“How dare they.” Her son finally spoke, his voice laced with silent fury. “How dare they try to send you to the night glend already. Do they not respect life?” He looked to his mother. “I am tired of being told my family is a monster to society. You heard that traveling wordsmith last fall. How can Unity not see you as a tribe to be included in Harmony?”
“Son.” His mother replied with sadness. Pulling him into a hug. “My son, know this. Your gramma says that the day will come when we shall stand as heralds of the moon goddess who sits on the throne next to the sun. That day will come, but we know not when.” She smiled. “Be patient.” She paused and hugged him closer. “Thank you.” she muttered. “Thank you for acting and not being your father. He would have continued to talk and try to end this with words, you saw words would not work and so, you ended it how they lived. Fate chose you to bring their reward this time.” She stood up. “Come, we have much to do. And as you said, we must bring these stallions in for identifying.”
Growing Up on the Frontier, January tenth 114 ADF
Hammer Strike had a very interesting way of dealing with morning, mainly by sitting in his office with the curtains closed to keep the light out and sorting through mail and documents that required his attention.
Upon entering his office he found himself staring at a scroll wrapped up in a red ribbon with a certain royal seal on it. Giving a glance at his calendar he realised a possibility of what the letter was about.
“Oh, please no.” He muttered moving over to his desk to take a seat as he opened the scroll.
‘Good day Hammer Strike,
How are you doing today? I was wanting to ask, will you be attending this years Grand Galloping Gala? If so I hope to see you there, I know last year was a little slow, but I am sure things will pick up this year.
Hope to see you there,
Celestia’
He sighed after reading the letter, having been to last year’s Gala, he quickly found out he would prefer to stay away from them. It mostly involved little interaction with the two sisters and having to walk around dealing with other nobles instead. While interacting with some were fine, a majority seemed to want to try and gain something from him.
With a sigh he grabbed an empty parchment from one of the drawers and prepared himself to write his response.
‘Hello Celestia,
I am fine, how about yourself? Also, I would rather stay away from the Gala.
Sincerely,
Hammer Strike’
With a nod he finished up and sealed the scroll with his own wax seal. Reaching into his coat he pulled out the lighter that Taze had owned. He paused for a moment, looking at the lighter before flipping it open and igniting it, the flame green instead of its normal hue. Putting the letter over it, it quickly burned away before collecting itself in a small cloud and flying out the window through its small opening.
He extinguished the flame and placed the lighter back inside his coat pocket. He shook his head, reaching over and opening another scroll, this one being a document that required his signature to approve the work on a new section of his home. Before he could even reach for his quill another flash happened in the room and a scroll landed on his desk in front of him, again sealed with the royal seal.
Raising his brow he reached over and opened the letter to reveal another message from Celestia, though this time much shorter.
‘Please?’
His eyes ran over the word a couple of times before he sighed heavily, grabbing another blank parchment and writing his response.
‘Fine.’
He rolled it up and sealed it, quickly sending it before he placed a hoof to his head. “What did I just agree to…?” Another flash, another scroll. Breaking the seal, he opened it, a golden ticket drifting onto his desk. Two words shimmered in the light.
‘Thank you.’
He stood up, placing the ticket into his coat pocket and headed out the door. He would finish reading the other letters and documents later. Entering the hallway he found himself staring at a very decorated hallway, having a general dislike for the whole over the top decorations thing. But the architects seemed to love them. He didn’t argue and just told them specific rooms to make and where to make them. It was interesting to hear their confusion to having a forge so close to his own bedroom.
Every now and then he would pass by a servant or guard and gave them a quick greeting as he passed by, having spent his time remembering each and every one of their names. After a time he found himself in the forge, various creations and projects scattered about the room on stands and armor dummies.
And the Gala I go… Again, July Tenth, 90 ADF
“I got a boar.” The gryphon laughed as he hefted the creature out for his friends to see. “Look at the size of him! There has got to be a good twenty pounds of meat on him.” He braged.
“Did you guys see the foundling on the beach with a barge? I’ll bet he made it so he could get back without being noticed from the air, that way he won’t have to embarrass the old bird when he comes back empty handed.” Another gryphon laughed.
Sixteen, the age when gryphon fledglings became young griffons officially. Old enough to fight in a war, old enough to live alone if they pleased, old enough to try and win a female. It was the age of energy and ignorance amongst male gryphons. Too smart to be taught anything by the older generation, too strong to be beaten by any danger the world set out for them. To be sixteen was to survive to adulthood, to be immortal, invulnerable, infallible. Such was the arrogance of youth.
The group of gryphons laughed and poked fun at the others kills telling of their own bravery and how they surely would be the one who songs would reveal about one day. They turned to the sound of creaking wheels with amused disdain as Grif came into view. The gryphon was harnessed to the wagon, his body looked ragged, some feathers were misplaced, others were broken. his eye was swollen and he seemed to be attempting to avoid putting weight on his right talon. Behind him the wagon was carefully covered with some bulging mass. The Gryphons paid him little mind as he towed the load towards the hut he and Graff occupied.
“Hey there foundling.” One of them jeered. “How went the hunt? Did you see my deer?” the young Gryphon made a show of how he hefted the animal on his back.
“That buck was already old” Grif said as he passed. “The meat will be tough and gamey.” He warned not even bothering to look at them.
The gryphon scowled, his precious pride marred by the worthless orphan who was raised by an old, senile bird. “I did not see you flying back with your kill.” He sneered.
“Couldn’t fly back, sprained a wing in the conflict.” He said. “Even if I hadn’t, the weight would have been too much to lift.”
“Oh what is wrong, the hatchling hurt his wing trying to kill the little bunny?” One shot back as his peers laughed. Grif simply shook his head.
“Rabbit’s not good game, there is not enough meat on one to feed a hatchling. The old bird is under the weather. I need enough game for both of us.” He said, hauling his wagon ever forward. “And by the way, the elders will not be happy with that boar. She had another month in her pregnancy yet.” Grif kept hauling his cart. the young males looked on in distaste, normally such words would be grounds for a fight, but none of them wished to soil their blades with the foundling’s blood. One of them snuck up behind the cart snickering, he’d cut the cart so everyone could see whatever embarrassing quarry the foundling had brought back.
The covering tore away after only a small tear the weight of the two sets of large antlers more than the fabric could bear. But it was the other sight that stopped the other gryphons. Three sets of large clawed forepaws stuck out above the antlers…. cougar paws.
Big game, September Twelfth, 117 ADF
Pensword was walking through town, already looking at the parchment rolled up and under his wing. He was heading to the guard post in to announce that he was going to hunt for the grizzly bear that had been terrorizing the bee hives. He was currently wearing the armored helm from the pegasus thug that tried to kill his mother, as the captain said it would do well to show the rest of the new settlers that he was not to be trifled with. It did not help that the others had tried to place him in jail for killing. Still, he slowed even more as his ears picked up sounds from the guard post. He slowed to a halt as a group had gathered.
“That bear is a menace.” One pegasus cried out while it looked like a Unicorn was glaring.
“No it is not. It is just an animal. Just because it got into your farm land does not mean-” The unicorn was shouted down by the same Yellow Pegasus with three bees as a cutie mark.
“That bear just killed Grandpa Story.” The silence from the crowd was staggering.
“So, an old fool got killed. So what?” The Unicorn muttered as he looked at the others around him. If looks could kill.
“The bear attacked the screened Gazebo, and went right after him. That bear has tasted Pony flesh, and must go before it gets bold enough to hunt closer to town. Something woke him up and he is hungry.”
Pensword only turned around and began walking away. Only to see the Captain walking quickly to the post. The two seemed to exchange looks before he fired off a magic sound maker from his horn. Pensword heard his words. “Don’t worry, we got some trackers going after the bear. If they don not work out, I am going to ask the Thestrals near town to help if they have not moved on.”
The next sound Pensword heard after a pause, was the sound that he associated from the tavern. He blinked and figured out something. That new Unicorn must have said something derogatory towards Pensword’s family. After all, at the moment the town saw him as a local hero, those three had been part of the Black Wing gang. There most likely were others in the area, but at the moment they were not attacking.
The next hour was spent gathering supplies, gear, and his hunting bow. Pensword smiled and stepped into the winter snow. Only a month since his last hunting trip with his mother. They went camping almost weekly, but this time, this time he was hunting on his own. Either he came home with that bear, or he would become a part of nature and feed it for his mistakes.
The following two hours saw him alone, with the sun moving towards the horizon already and the sounds of silence. Pensword stood on edge, silence at this time and this weather meant a predator was nearby. He paused as he saw something that worried him. Another camp, only it was torn up. He slowly poked his way to the outskirts and saw a sight he would never forget, it seemed the poor bandit that was sleeping in his tent had been another victim of this bear. First his brother’s beehive, then the beehives of the Beefeathers, now Grandpa Story Bee. This poor Mare, this bear would prove a problem if left alive. He steeled himself as he paused. He quickly turned and found it, assaulting a wild hive in a tree. Without thinking, Pensword dropped low and raised his bow. He fired off the arrow he had just notched and was already midway to having notched his second arrow when the first buried itself into the neck of the grizzly. The bear fell hard onto the ground and landed on the arrow jamming it further. The bear did not move after falling and Pensword slowly approached the creature as he saw no breathing. He moved closer still as the buzzing of the hive lessened. It seemed the Bees could see that he was a friend at the moment and he was there to take the problem away. He found himself with a problem. The bear was dead. The arrow had severed the spine it looked like, and secondly, the bear was far too large and heavy to move. How was he going to move this bear? He wondered, when from the woods he saw other Thestrals moving forward in shock.
“You?” The lead Mare began. “You killed a Mad Bear?” Those words froze Pensword’s blood. He had found and killed a mad bear. He heard stories of creatures gone mad, invulnerable, hard to kill, shrugging off normal wounds that would stop others. Yet … He looked at the bear. “Can I have some help then?”
The Thestrals only smiled. “For Moonkissed Pensword, killer of the Mad Bear, we shall be more than happy to bring it back to camp.” She turned to the group. “New Moon, go to town and inform the guards that the mad bear has been brought down by a grown Thestral on his first hunt.” She turned and smiled. “Tonight shall be a night of feasting, drinking, and you shall claim an item from the bear to wear to show your first kill as a Stallion.”
Pensword nodded. “Very well. I humbly accept your invitation.” Pensword replied to the group. He actually liked the title moonkissed. “I wonder what Gramma will say to this.”
The Mad Bear’s End, February Sixteenth, 114 ADF
Hammer Strike sat in the forge. Before him was a sketch on a new weapon, one he wanted to practice with. His mind followed the details that he marked down on the style and markings on the blade. As he looked at the document his ear twitched, a soft voice called for his attention.
Looking to his right he stared at the door, expecting somepony to walk in, only to have none, but the voice once called again.
For some reason he couldn’t make out the words. It sounded near. Maybe he was just hearing something through one of the doors. Perhaps one of the help had a problem and had to bring it to his attention. Even though he would show no anger or disappointment, for some reason they always feared bringing him bad news.
Opening the door he found no one. In fact the guards had already done their sweep of this area and it was just him. His brows furrowed and he looked around the hallway. ‘Defectum’
His head snapped to the right, in the direction of his office. He heard the voice once again, and it was bothering him now. His brows lowered again as he walked towards his office, opening the door to find again, no one there. ‘Defectum’
His ears caught the word but his mind didn’t register its translation. He paused, questioning how he knew it needed to be translated. ‘Defectum.’
His head snapped to his right, the voice sounding close, but at the same time his mind finally captured the voice. “No…”
“Defectum.” The voice said again, his head snapping to his left.
In his sight he saw a figure but he couldn’t register who it was. “Who are you? What are you doing here at this hour?”
“Et quomodo sustinebis?” The figure asked, his mind finally figuring out the language being used, the one language in Equestria that only he knew, Latin.
“How could I?” He muttered the translation. “What do you mean?”
The figure was silent.
“What do you mean?” He asked again, his tone shifting a little. The silence bothering him as he finally felt something shift. “What do you mean, Moonshade?” His tone raised a little. But as soon as his mind caught up with him he realised that the figure was not in front of him.
Soon after, his mind registered that he saw and heard Moonshade, but that was impossible. He shook his head, looking at where the figure was before finally he made up his mind on what to do next.
The journey was silent as he walked alone to the locked off section of the library, or technically the secret section of the library. The guards having known to let him through and to never question why he was headed there.
Before him, in the section hidden from prying eyes, sat the painting holding Lunar Fang, Moonshade, and the other holding himself. Having been given the information on how to get her out he followed the steps, mentally checking them off in his head as he did them, freeing her from the painting.
The painting developed cracks before somehow the font shattered like a pane of glass. Lunar Fang laid on the floor for a moment before rising to her hooves. “Time up already?” She asked
“Not yet.” Hammer Strike said. “I just… Needed to pull you out for a moment.” He said.
“What do you mean? Weren’t we both in those paintings for the time we’ve been gone?” She asked confused. “It feels like it’s been only a few moments.”
“Perhaps for you…” He said softly in response. “I am sorry, but…” He looked over at the second painting, the one containing him.
“What’s going on?” She looked at the spot his gaze pointed to then back at him.
“It’s only been…” He paused thinking on it. “Ten years or so.” He replied. “Perhaps if you looked a little closer.”
“But you're sleeping in that picture, how can you be out here?” She glared at him.
He looked back to her. “I could not exactly set up my noble house and leave it for thirty six years… So I worked with Celestia and Luna to make a Golem for myself to use while my body would stay in there, unaging…” He shook his head lightly. “I lied, saying that I would go into a painting and wait as well, but I didn’t want you to have to wait as well.”
“So why wake me up then?” She asked.
“I needed somepony to talk to. One that I do not have to lie to or act kindly to just to have them ask for things in return.” He sat down. “I have been awake for ten years, and for once I just want to talk to somepony that I do not have to act like somepony else.” He sighed.
“So why do something so stupid?” She asked confused.
“Because I need something to break this chain, I am starting to forget things that I should not, I can not even remember some faces…” He said softly, his eyes seemed to be dull.
Moonshade approached him slowly placing a hoof on his shoulder. “Are you really the same person?” She asked...
...and then she punched him in the face. “Now of all times you start to get worn out? The human who defied death three times in a single day? Who wields the sun like it’s his toy? The stallion who lead a rebellion against Sombra and BLEW UP THE WALLS OF THE CRYSTAL EMPIRE! NOW YOU GIVE UP? ARE YOU THE SAME PERSON?”
“HOW WOULD YOU FEEL IF YOU COULD NOT EVEN REMEMBER THE FACES OF YOUR BEST FRIENDS AND FAMILY?!” He roared in return. “I COULD NOT EVEN REMEMBER YOUR FACE.”
“Is that why you have Pensword’s gun in your holster? Because you couldn’t remember his face?” She asked
“I do not want to forget.” He replied softly. “But I need something to remind me of those around me…”
Lunar Fang leaned forward and threw her hooves over them. “We’ll see them again.” She promised him.
“It hurts so much to forget.” He muttered. “This was why…” He started quietly. “This is why I lied… I did not want the same to happen to you.”
Lunar Fang perked for a moment seemingly remembering something. “Do you remember that crazy snowball fight Taze had the guard wage against the foals?” She asked him.
There was a pause. “Somewhat…” He responded.
“When the Ponyville newspaper ran the article the next day, Pensword had me look over the pictures they asked us to pre approve for the article. Much to my embarrassment, I’ve kept one.” She reached under her breastplate and produced the photo. “It reminded me just how Great things could be.” She offered the picture too him.
Taking the photo his eyes ran over the picture, taking in details as his mind tried to piece together names.
The picture was in front of the Punch Bowl after the fight. Pipsqueak and the CMC stood in front as Matthew, Taze and Shawn stood together with Moonshade sitting beside them. They all smiled at the camera like idiots, saluting happily. Taze was still wearing that ridiculous bicorn hat.
For the first time in a long time Hammer Strike found himself chuckling a true laugh, a small smile on his face. “I can faintly remember that day. The cold winds, the soft snow…” His shoulders relaxed slightly. “To think, it was just…” He stopped, looking at her with his small smile. “Thank you.” He said holding the photo to return it.
“You should keep it.” She raised a hoof. “Make a frame and use it to give you a vantage point in time.”
He glanced at the photo again before nodding and placing it in his coat pocket carefully. “We will have to get another one when we return. Twenty six years is a long way for it to travel.” He smiled again. “But I shall see to it.”
“We already know we will see them again, it’s simply a matter of weathering the storm.” Lunar Fang said. “If there is anything you three taught me, it’s that a bad situation is a victory simply wrapped in a bad package.” She rolled her eyes. “Taze really has gotten to me. Have you marked important days for them? Yourself? The three of you? It may help to pass the time.”
“I have marked days that I can remember, birthdays…” He paused, blinking in thought. “I have been keeping an eye on the news about the Gryphon Empire. And I have been writing a number next to the year to remember how long I have to go.” He paused. “I think I did it for that reason.”
“Have you set up a secondary residence near the northern isles?” Lunar Fang asked.
“Around two or so years ago, after I had a stable hold.” He responded.
“Have you been recruiting healers?” She asked
“Yes.” He responded.
“Then you are at least prepared for Grif’s coming.” She nodded. “You will have to sleep before that meeting, you know this right?”
“I do not know what day that will be, until then I can not return to my body and rest.” He responded.
“When the gryphons start approaching nobles near you, you’ll know to prepare.” She said. “You know a golem body is nigh indestructible, if you have anything normally lethal you’d like to attempt, now would be the time.”
“I will mark for myself to keep an ear out on that.” He said. “I somewhat figured that out…” He chuckled. “It was interesting to find that part out.”
“I want you to wake me in five years time.” She said. “And start keeping a journal of the days.”
“I shall see to it.” He smiled.
She looked around the room before spotting a new painting. “Was there anything else you needed?” She asked.
“Not that I can remember at the moment.” He responded. “Let us get you back inside.”
With that Lunar Fang touched her hoof to the orb and she was once again frozen in the painting.
“Note to self, bring paintings next time…” Hammer Strike said to himself, looking at the old painting now, well, broken.
Memories, July Twenty Second, 98 ADF
Only one species contested the gryphons’ control over the northern isles. The diamond dogs believed the gryphon villages rested on top of rich gem deposits and had gone every where from demanding the intruding gryphons to leave to violent attacks on the villages during the year. It seemed that it was Grif’s village’s turn to be the brunt of their anger as all around gryphons and diamond dogs clashed.
The recent rise in disease had left the small settlement weakened. Many warriors had been forced to their beds and were unprepared for the sudden attack. However, gryphons were warriors one and all. Only diamond dog males left the dens to fight or to mine. Gryphon females were taught to fight from a young age, just as their male counterparts, even if their training was not quite so extensive. All around, diamond dogs found themselves held off by things as mundane as a garden hoe or a rake. Several shovels could been seen swinging dangerously.
Grif screeched as he scythed his way through the battlefield. The young gryphon was only seventeen, but years of harsh training and exercise had left his body strong. Training under the older warrior he called father had left him feeling rather at home on the battlefield. A sword in each hand, the gryphon moved forward with a fire, barely stopping to look at the diamond dogs before him as the life left there eye’s either from being run through, or simply being relieved of their head by way of their scrawny but easily targeted necks. Grif had a purpose. He needed to get home to defend his ailing father. The dogs fought simply for their greed.
Grif’s body was a mess, fur and feathers colored deep red from the diamond dogs around him or by the numerous cuts he received from glancing blows. He took in the carnage around him as he moved forward. These beasts had no right to be here. This land had been sold to the emperor by the pony sisters decades ago and in turn had been sold to this colony. The islands had been carefully examined. There had been nothing living on over or under them at the time. These greedy mutts had no claim to this island and by the spirits, Grif was not going to let them get it. Grif’s attention was drawn to a fresh burning in his arm as he looked down at the arrow protruding from it. A careful glance told him the head had gone through the soft tissue but had produced no major damages to the arm. Looking up he saw a small dog with an even smaller bow pointed in his direction. Without so much as a formal acknowledgment he grabbed a blade from his weapon harness and threw it, bringing the dog down with a gurgling sound, the blade protruding under his chin.
Grif barely registered the shrill cry signaling the gryphons to fall back as shafts rained down from the air. Around him diamond dogs fell to the ground. The gryphon felt three impacts behind him, but nothing had breached his armor.
In the middle of this battle amongst all this carnage the young gryphon’s blood finally went cold as he saw the door to the small hunt he called home kicked in. Taking to the air he rushed the door as fast as he could. Just barely missing the dogs head as it flew out the doorway. As he approached he saw Graff shakily on his feet, two handed axe in hand.
“I’m sick, not invalid.” The older gryphon grumbled, “Get back there and kill more of them. I’ll be fine. They only got one entrance here.”
Grif sighed with relief, he nodded to Graff before turning. The old bird was grouchy, but he was the only family Grif had ever had and he was not sure what he’d do with his life if something had happened to him.
With a sword in each hand and his fear dispelled for now, Grif rushed, the battle was a feast for the senses, and he intended to eat heartily.
Blood and Thunder. June Sixteenth 115 ADF
Pensword slowly walked through the silent crowd of his mother’s tribe as they watched. He shivered a little at the gazes, unsure of what they were thinking, or even what they would do with him. He did his best not to show his nerves and fear. He slowed as he approached the center of the gathering. The stars above were visible, the full moon shone like a beacon to all. He stopped as he looked at his grandmother. she gazed down from her sedan.
“Moonkissed Pensword, please, come forward into the circle of warriors.” She smiled a little. “Few children can say much of their own hunt. A deer bounding away from them, a poor shot that turned into a boon for them. Still, even before you took your first hunt you became a protector. Your mother has told me what you did in your last supervised trip; what you did to bring fear to bandits in the area.” She stood up. “Then you go and pick the most fearsome beast in these woods, not because you felt like proving yourself, but because it had attacked your village, your home. It killed and tasted pony flesh. This bear, we now know, was mad. Foaming at the mouth with rage. While that means the meat cannot be shared with the tribe, the fur and bones are still usable. In a months time you shall have a robe of this bear to wear upon gatherings of the clans. We also ask you now, what small token do you wish to wear to show you are a hunter of the Thestral Clans?”
Pensword looked right up at his grandmother. “Moonkissed Clan Leader Shimmering Star, I wish to wear an eye tooth of the bear, it used its teeth to kill, I wear it now to show that all who will kill my kin shall be hunted as I hunted that bear.” Pensword felt a chill run down his spine as he spoke those words and the chill he knew was not from the cold. He stood and glared at his grandmother. “Like the bear, I shall protect my kin as the mother protects her cubs.” he narrowed his eyes. “Let the town know that this applies to all kin in my clans.” The silence that hung spooked a few of the Thestrals as they felt that somehow they had witnessed an oath far deeper and far more serious than it should be.
His grandmother smiled approvingly as the moment passed, the warm wrinkles and scars gave the impression of vast wisdom come with age. “So be it. The Eye Tooth shall be presented to you along with your robe in a month’s time.” She smiled and slowly sat down. “However, your honors do not end here. It seems the reclusive lord of the lands who lives further up the mountain has come down to see you. He has been told of your deeds and it seems Equestria wishes to honor them as well.”
Pensword, with the rest of the clan turned his gaze where a group of Pegasus Ponies dressed in the guard armor of a noble house marched into the crowd as the Thestrals parted respectfully for them. In the middle, Pensword could see two nobles dressed. However what surprised him was next to the Purple coated Unicorn stood an Earth Pony decked in armor with the cloak of a noble. Pensword did not recall any Earth Ponies being given nobility status. Still, he bowed his head and body low to the ground. “Noble Baron Happy Hooves. A pleasure to be in your presence.”
Thestral Ceremony of Age February Sixteenth, 114 ADF
Hammer Strike found himself entering a town named Mountainside Falls. He was invited to come witness an event, and though he would typically ignore a good chunk of events he was invited to, his mind registered a couple words and for some reason. He felt as though he had to go. He sighed for a moment looking around at the guards that had been selected for the trip due to this being a town near the border.
“I hope you do not mind the venue change.” Baron Happy Hooves said, “It was just that earlier today one of the subjects in the town below us killed a mad bear, and being a half breed, he is being honored by the Thestrals for his first lone hunt. His father asked if I would like to help and show the thanks of Equestria as well for what was accomplished tonight. Do you mind if we dine at night in the snow covered forests with such exotic creatures as these?”
“I do not mind at all. The night does not bother me as I have worked through it for twenty or so years.” Hammer Strike replied.
“As the stories say, you are a smith. Rumor has it you have even crafted the armor you have worn for this trip.” He smiled as the carriage they were riding in rocked as it bumped over a stone. Tilting to the side that Hammer Strike was sitting on. “Now, what was the name of that colt? Pen… pen something.” He muttered as he moved a hoof to some notes at his side. “AH, Pensword.” he smiled a little. “Do you plan to give anything to this colt tonight? Or shall I be the only one to reward such bravery?” He looked out the window and the setting sun. “We have six hours before we have to be at the glen.”
“Depends. Do you have a forge in town?” Hammer smiled a little, his mind still trying to catch up after hearing Pensword’s name, his hoof subconsciously tapping his chestplate for a second, two names engraved on the inside, written in another language to their closest variables that he could remember.
“Well, yes the town has a forge, mostly for making tools for the fields and around the town. Why? You wish to make a small token of your appreciation from the capital of Unity?” The Baron only smiled before frowning as a scroll appeared over his head. He took it, sighing. “My apologies, Lord Hammer Strike. It seems my brother is at it again in wishing to deprive me of what little land I have scraped together. A fourth born, as he put it, should serve his brothers only as a sword bearer.” He tucked the scroll away, “Still, tonight is for feasting and joy. A threat is gone. Two in fact, bandits have fled the region and a bear that would have killed the townsfolks is dead. Tonight is a fine time for feasting.” He tapped the wall of the carriage. “To the local forge, and be sure to pay two bags of silver for its use.”
“I have a feeling tonight is going to be very interesting.” Hammer chuckled. “Well, now that I have work planned out that is.”
“I look forward to seeing what you can produce.”
[five hours later]
“You?” the Baron gasped in shock as he stood in the room of the forge, gaping. “How do-?” He paused and began to laugh. “So the stories are true. You are indeed almost an Alicorn of the Forges.” He shook his head. “No longer, you are indeed noble, truly the Princesses were correct in their choice.”
Hammer Strike shrugged in response.
“I have one question.” As the two boarded the carriage to head towards the ceremony. “What is it? It seems like a blade, but it is unlike any blade I have seen in my life.” He tapped the carriage roof again and they began to move again. “I hope you do not mind but we will have to spend a good half hour walking to our destination, we shall drive as close as we can.”
“I do not mind walking, I once took a journey on hoof from Baltimare to Unity on my own.” Hammer Strike replied.
The noble stared in shock and blinked. “We shall walk then.” He paused. “Did you not run into any bandits? That just seems far fetched walking that long on your own?”
“Bandits did show up…” Hammer Strike started. “I made sure they changed their ways.” He finished.
“Oh, this, I simply must hear this tale. If nothing else it should at least make the ride go faster. Will you not tell it to me?” He smiled. “I could even have one of my retainers record it for you if you wish.”
What followed was a tale of just what happened. They were just walking towards the fires and the shadows of the Thestrals as he finished the story. “That was when they left and become ,of all things, protectors of travelers along that road. I have hired them many a time when traveling.”
It was here that he heard and saw a young colt with the coat of a Thestra,l navy blue with white mane and tail bowed low to the ground. “Noble Baron Happy Hooves. A pleasure to be in your presence.” Pensword waited for Baron Happy Hooves to cough before he rose only to bow again. “Greetings Noble from beyond Happy Hooves’ domain. It is an honor to be in the presence of two nobles of Equestria.”
Hammer Strike immediately took in every detail, his mind giving slight signs of memories as he traced over Pensword for a moment, his eyes noting his young age, with his cutie mark to finish. “You do not need to bow to me.” Hammer Strike said.
Pensword rose in confusion and shock. “You... Have I done something wrong?” The voice of a young colt, yet a voice that tickled the memories a little more, still looked confused.
“No young one, you have not.” Hammer Strike replied, a small smile starting to form on his face. “What is your name?”
“Moonkissed Pensword, Milord.” The colt replied with a look of pride for the title. He seemed to be a little more relaxed to know he did not do anything wrong in his first meeting with a noble of any station.
“Well met.” Hammer Strike smiled, “So you are the one I have been hearing about from Happy Hooves, here.”
The noble next to him looked at him but he shook his head like a long suffering father over something. “Yes I have told him of your deeds tonight.”
Pensword shuffled a little at the praise. “It, it was just doing the tasks I knew needed to be done.” He smiled a little. “I am sure if the guards were not busy taking care of a brawl in town they would have taken the bear down tonight anyway.”
“But you did not see it as a task for the guard, you saw an opportunity to do something in good faith for the town.” Hammer Strike replied. “I even dare say that you knew the risks and still went for it, did you not?”
“A Grizzly is a dangerous creature, and one that has tasted the flesh of the town,” He looked at the nobles, “Is a threat to all who live here. I went out knowing how dangerous it was and how much I could be hurt. Only after I brought the bear down did I learn it was mad.”
“But the fact still remains that you did it.” Hammer Strike finished. “And that is the reason why we are here on this night.”
Pensword blinked, only to bow his head in thanks. A simple thanks in his body language. He looked up as the Baron spoke. “Now, I am here to give you a request, you may ask anything of me that is within reason.”
Pensword paused a little as he looked at the Baron before finally speaking. “May I read the tactical manuals that the guards study from? I, I feel that the bandits will return and will return for blood, my blood, for what I did to three of their numbers. They will even blame me for the deaths of the bandits caused by the bear. I wish to be ready to defend this land from their attacks.”
The Baron nodded his head. “As you know, those documents were declared restricted by Commander Hurricane the Second. Still, it is a request I will honor, and no matter what may come tomorrow, that request will be honored by Unity itself.”
“Being as I do not know what is in store.” Hammer Strike started with a raised brow. “I have something to give you.” He said, looking at Pensword. Reaching into his saddlebags he pulled out something wrapped in oiled cloth, it was a decent sized object. After giving it one last check over, he hefted it out for Pensword to take. “I have a feeling this will serve you well.”
Pensword blinked, slowly unwrapping the blade. He looked back up as he pulled the sheath and blade from the cloth. “This is a Southern Isles Kelkie design.” he blinked in shock. “I, I am honored by this.” He bowed again, only to have a hoof stop him, as he looked up he noticed a fierceness in the eyes of Hammer Strike as he shook his head. “O… Of course” Pensword muttered as he backed away.
“Just remember, Pensword, every blade is in need of a name. Be sure to give it one that you will always remember.” Hammer Strike said.
Pensword nodded and smiled. “My Grandfather’s father was a guard who fought in Luna’s Army. Lexington Airstrike was his name. I shall shorten it to just Lexington.” he spoke as he fully pulled the blade from the sheath and gazed upon it. He smiled in appreciation, then he placed the blade back into the sheath and paused. “Adjustable straps? That is a nice touch.” He placed it at his side and smiled as he gave a Thestral salute. His Right hoof to his chest, his left wing out rigid with a curt jerk of the head down and up.
Not there, February Sixteenth, 114 ADF
“Has it been five years already?” Lunar Fang asked as she looked around dazed, only to meet silence from Hammer Strike, who looked saddened. He shook his head in response to her question. “What's wrong?” She asked.
“I found him…” Hammer Strike started. “Nothing…”
“Found him?” She asked.
“Pensword.” He said. “I found him, but… There is nothing....” He finished.
“Is he alright?” She asked.
“We have a task ahead of us... Yes, us, in the years to come…” He started. “To get him to remember.” He said. “It was painful to be there right in front of him. He is young, I would guess around eighteen years or so, but he does not remember anything.”
“But it is him?” She asked.
“I could somewhat hear it in his voice.” Hammer Strike replied. “It helped me remember some things…” He sighed. “The time is so close, yet so far. Only ten more to go.” He said.
“Maybe it’s set so he’ll remember when he reaches the age he was?”
“We can only hope…” He sighed. “We can only hope.”
Time will tell, February Nineteenth, 114 ADF
Pensword stood still as his mother smiled from behind her easel. She was giddy as if enjoying a secret moment that Pensword could not understand. why was she smiling so much? “Mom, Can… do you have the sketch? I am going to be late for class.” he was shocked that the access to the books he had wanted meant that he was in a way, a reserve guard. A term coined for his special position, a class that he had been taking now for over a year.
His mother only smiled a little. “Yes dear…” She paused and made a dramatic motion with a wing. “There. You can head off to classes again. I will expect you to be home tonight for your birthday Dinner.” She smiled as she watched her son trot out the door, already wearing his reserve kit. While not the best armor, it would help protect him from bandits. She returned to the painting, her smile becoming sad and melancholy. “It will be a shame,” She muttered as she slowly began to paint part of the sketch, as she painted, it seemed almost like two pictures were being finished at once. “I wish I could have gossiped with you, Lunar Fang.” She sniffed a little, smiling as well. “I know you will protect my little bundle with your wings.”
Pensword was trotting quickly when he heard a sound that chilled his blood. Pick up speed, he extended his wings, flying low to the ground. The bells from the school and town hall were ringing now, a frantic sound and he rose higher to the sky. He pulled Lexington from the sheath, bracing for the worst. Then he saw it. He saw a sight that chilled him to the bone. Gryphon and Pony were flocking and turning around the air. He pushed himself into a more air streamed manner that landed him through a gap and into the guard huddle he quickly assessed that the captain was dead from an arrow. He could see that the guards were starting to buckle and he saw that the school house was where his friends had fled.
“Fall back.” He shouted. “Set up around the school house, Flyers, take your bows to the roof. Unicorns, Start throwing stones at the enemies.” He swung his blade and Lexington pushed back a Gryphon who had tried to scatter the cluster. “Fight back and keep yourselves covered.” He darted to the market and without ceremony, tore the sheets away from the top of the stalls. “Come on, Unicorns tear up the stalls and the wood. Throw then at the enemy.” he broke a pole and swung it at an Earth Pony Bandit knocking him senseless before the pole was yanked from his grasp by three unicorn bandits. He looked at them. “Cover me. Throw anything. Use anything as ammo.” He adjusted his helmet and felt a pull but ignored it as he charged at the three unicorns using the blade to actually cut the pole from their magic grasp. It clattered to the ground and Pensword, in a move of sheer stupidity and youth, charged into the middle of the group. He quickly swung and took out the first of the unicorns, breaking a wooden shield and blocking a blow from another. Pensword kicked his rear leg, connecting with the unhelmed third who had was about to gorge him from behind with his horn. He felt the shield he had used begin to tug away and he let go while pushing with his forehooves. The momentum hit the final unicorn, knocking her senseless.
Pensword turned around, pushing off the ground as he clutched the quiver of the town’s archer. He landed on the back of the Gryphon that had hit the ground where he was standing. He wounded the Gryphon and he paused for a moment, thanking the Moon that these Gryphons were not like those in the books. He took a bow off its back and pulled back cutting off the air from entering its lungs… He was only able to black the Gryphon out before another tried to attack him. He quickly let go and took to the air, causing a friendly kill to happen. Still, he gripped Lexington. Something was off. Pensword felt like he was too close. He was in the thick of things when he saw a weather team with some clouds. “LIghting Attack, Lighting Strike those in the air.” he ordered as he dove, rumbling filled the sky. He did not know if his voice was heard or not but regardless, he kept fighting.
Pensword dropped onto a crippled Pegasus Bandit knocking him senseless, he hoped, before a cry came up. The gryphons were pulling back and pulling what wounded or dead they could with them. Pensword could see that many of those around were about to follow.
“HALT!” He ordered as Lighting still struck, helping to force the retreat of the bandits. “Let them go. We have our own dead and wounded to tend, and defenses to build.” He turned around as he saw the looks of his friends. His younger brother was holding a sling in his wing. A moment later a stone dropped from the sling. “What?” he asked as he turned he felt the pull again. He turned his head. Two arrows were sticking out from his armor, right in the gap. He winced as the pain rushed in. He sat down, heavy, sore, and battered. “Owe.” he moaned a little while the local healer walked up to him with a tsking sound.
The wind howled outside the hut, winter was once again in the Northern Isles and things had not been well. The plague was rampant, warriors graves lined the graveyard, entire families would be wiped out in a matter of weeks. Grif sat by the hearth, cooking the simple stew with the herbs he hoped would allow his father to overcome this. The small size of the hut had one advantage in that the hearthfire could serve to warm the entire space. To most gryphons it would be called cozy, possibly even on the warm side. Yet Graf lay in his bed, shivering from cold despite the several hides draped over his body.
There is much to be said about gryphons, they are strong, fierce fighters, loyal warriors, and they can endure most things with a smile. But there was not much to be said for their healers. The herbal remedies they did have were a few random plants that had been stumbled upon by accident. Their small settlement had neither a healer nor a wide supply of herbs and the few plants Grif could identify on the islands were of little help against such a malady.
“Grif.” The voice was faint, far quieter than the gravely, powerful voice of Grif’s youth. “Forget the stew and come to me.”
Grif instantly heeded the call as he walked towards his father. The old warrior’s feathers were worn thin, his fur ragged. Under the feathers of his father’s face Grif could see the skin, grey and degraded. “What do you need?” He asked.
Graf weakly raised his tallon and lifted something down to himself. It was a gryphon bow, a large one carved in polished black wood. The wisps of the wind seemed to play across it until it lead down to a small ruby redder than blood set in a thin sliver of gold.
Grif shook his head as Graf lifted the bow, it had been the one heirloom Graf had taken with him when he’d left his clan, an artifact specifically for his bloodline. The bow had been made for one of the five gryphons who had stopped the gryphon dog war of the lower kingdoms and who had personally seen to the death of the self announced King Olaf. The ruby itself had been one of the gems set in the crown. But for Graf to be taking it down now was neither impressive, nor comforting to Grif.
Graf placed a talon on his palm and with the strength he could muster he made a thin cut across it. “I go now. My ancestors have called for me. The spirits have sounded the horn for me to fly in the great winds.” Graf began, ignoring Grif’s pleas for him to stop, that this was not his end.
“Know that I will watch you. know that a piece of my soul stays with you.” With that, like his ancestors before him, Graf smeared a drop of blood onto the ruby. “To protect your friends. to guard your family. And to bring death on the north wind to your foes,” He pressed the pin, allowing the hinge to collapse the bow. Then he turned it to Grif. “Until you fly beside me once again.”
Grif stood there in front of his father, tears trickling down his face. It was done, the bow could not be refused now. To refuse the gift was to damn Graf to never rest. Grif took the bow in his claws shaking. “An- and until the wind calls me to you, I, I will continue to uphold the honor you have awarded me.” He responded.
Graf looked into his son’s face. “When I die, remove three of my primary feathers and fasten from them to three arrows, use these only in times when you cannot miss, and I will be with you.” Graf smiled at Grif. “I will be with you eternally, my son.” With that the gryphon laid back, his eye’s gently closing as his breath ceased. Grif embraced the dead gryphon, weeping openly. He hugged him till he felt all the warmth leave his form. He would weep until the dawn, but he would leave stone faced as he arranged for Graf to be placed in his grave. His spirit was amongst the winds now.
For the first time in his nineteen years, Grif was truly alone.
November Twentieth, 120 ADF
Pensword stood looking at his friends and family. He blinked back tears as he touched the cap with the eagle feather in it towards his father. “I, I did not think this would be where my cutie mark would take me.”
His father beamed, pride shining in his eyes. “Nor I, yet this last year I have noticed your writing when left to your own has been writing to the mayor and to Baron Happy Hooves on ways to improve the defenses.” A light chuckle escaped his father’s muzzle. “Still, you show them that the great grandson of Lexington Airstrike will be willing to serve.”
Pensword nodded. “Yes. I am the first offspring since his marriage to bear the armor of the Princesses. I just hope I survive induction and training.” He could hear the coach rolling down the street to pick him up. “Now I will be a three day’s flight from here, but don’t visit too much, they won’t take kindly to visitors. And mom… I’ll come here to visit.” He moved only to have his mother beat him and hug him first.
“I know, son. The princesses do not wish us to serve in the ranks. We are too wild.” She smiled as she kissed his cheek. “But I can say this, my young soldier. You shall live to see Thestrals become accepted in Equestria.” She pulled away and smiled as she began shifting her wings, raising her hoof, the town following suit. All were giving him the Thestral salute.
Pensword dressed in the cloth of a recruit stitched by the town’s own tailor returned the salute as well. “Thank you. I shall come to visit again in five years. Five years from now and I shall be, hopefully, a new officer in the ranks of the Military.” he looked to the direction of the manor. “I owe this privilege to both Baron Happy Hooves and the payroll of Lord Hammer Strike.” he smiled as he looked back on his home town. “I, I will come back and when I do it will be as an officer.”
The town cheered as Pensword turned and boarded the coach. The driver did not say anything and just stared at the hero’s farewell. He shook his head as he turned the coach away. Pensword leaned out the door and waved back to his family. He smiled as he looked to the sky and shouted out something that the driver could not help but over hear.
“Moon Burn, you better keep Whirlwind out of trouble. And tell any who court her that if they lay so much as a hoof on her that the wrath of a soldier will fall upon them. YOU HEAR!?”
The two siblings yelled back their own words of encouragement and the three stayed for a mile longer before, finally, the two turned away. The last advice he yelled out he would never regret. “Whirlwind you keep up your flying and you and I will race next time I see you, you hear me?”
His sister actually dropped and hovered a little at his eye level. “I will not lose next time, brother.” She moved forward and hugged Pensword. “I love you big brother, I want you to come back in armor and scare those bullies from that Unicorn port city.” She muttered in a serious, yet joking tone of voice.
“I will do that, my little student.” he replied as he gave her a noogie. She pulled away and smiling, darted back towards town. Pensword smiled, his heart aching. He would be gone for five years, the first two without any chance of leave. He already banked on not getting any due to his… heritage, but he was going to show those in the chain of command he was ready.” He shuffled to fully sit down and patted a saddle bag with letters of recommendation, including a report of his actions upon the death of his captain and mentor during the most recent attack only three months ago. He stared ahead. “Cadet Pensword, reporting for duty.” he whispered to himself.
Leaving home for the Academy Twenty August 115 ADF
Bored once again, Hammer Strike found himself in his forge smithing away at a new weapon. One that, strangely enough, confused him for why he was making it. It was meant for a more refined grip, needing hands. But for some reason, he knew he could use it. His mind was having trouble trying to remember why he knew that.
There was a sudden flash of light and Hammer Strike found himself looking up at a scroll, sealed by Celestia’s royal seal. With a questioning glance he put down his tools, broke the seal, and started reading.
‘Hello Hammer Strike,
I wanted to ask if you are available for tea today. It has been awhile since our last conversation and I thought it would be nice to catch up with each other. I hope to hear back from you soon. I know you can be busy from time to time.
~Celestia’
Hammer Strike was puzzled by the request. “Tea? At this hour?” He said, looking around for the only clock in the room, which currently read noon.
“Oh.” He said, his gaze shifting back to the weapon he was working on and the letter. “Uh…”
Looking around he stepped out of the forge for a moment, trotting directly to his office. Quickly grabbing an empty parchment and his quill and ink, he wrote:
‘Good Day Celestia,
I would love to, but you might have to give me a little more time. I have to finish this project first and I will be headed out shortly afterwards.
~Hammer Strike’
With a nod of approval, Hammer sealed it and reached for his coat pocket, only to realize with some chagrin that he had left it back in the forges. “Oh, come on.” He muttered, trotting back to the forge again, he roughly grabbed the lighter and sent the letter on its way.
Looking back at his tools he reached over to grab the hammer only for a flash to go off behind him, followed by the sound of hooves clopping on the floor. After a moment he turned to the source to find Celestia there with a couple of things held in her magic, one of the main things being a tea set.
“You do know I was almost finished with this, correct? It would not have taken me that long.” Hammer Strike said.
“Last time you said that, I waited four days.” Celestia said.
“Come on, I had just started the armor set when you sent that, and I just got absorbed in making it.” Hammer Strike replied.
“Your colossus armor, was it?” She asked.
“The Juggernaut armor.” Hammer Strike smiled. “Nothing but catapults can break through it. Though I have yet to try it against a catapult. The guards were running out of attack ideas for breaking through it.” He chuckled.
“It seems fine for you but what about those not heat deterrent? I imagine it could easily be turned against them.” Celestia pointed out with a raised brow.
“In all honesty, after more thought on it, I think it would be best to leave it for only a few to use. Though at this point it only fits myself.” He responded.
“I see.” Celestia nodded. “And what is this new project of yours?”
“I ... can not give you a full answer. It has been in the back of my mind for the last few years to make some weapons like this.” He shrugged, the blade in question was very interesting as from the hilt it traveled both ways, one top, one bottom.
“An interesting invention. Is it for a unicorn?” She asked, placing the tea set down nearby.
“I guess so, due to the fact that you need to have this weapon higher off the ground than most can provide.” Hammer Strike responded.
“My sources have told be the plague is bad in the Northern Isles, but the gryphons refuse to seek help.” Celestia mentioned as she poured them each a cup.
Hammer Strike paused for a second. “One day.” He responded. “Hopefully.”
“Gryphons are stubborn to a fault.” Celestia said. “But they would not let themselves die for want of something as simple as a healer.”
“As said, we can hope that one day they will seek for help.” He sighed. “Even with how things are tension wise, it still hurts to hear these things.”
“I wish the emperor were not so quick to pursue war. Your name has slowed proceedings but I fear open warfare will be unavoidable.” Celestia sighed. “So many gryphons to their deaths over something so trivial.”
“Do not think it will be easy, Celestia.” Hammer Strike warned. “Be ready for what is to come.”
“I have fought on the battlefield before. I am well aware of what warfare is.” She said.
Hammer Strike sighed inwardly. “We shall see how things go.”
“Besides, we have the great smith lord on our side. How can we lose?” Celestia grinned.
“I am not skilled enough for that.” Hammer Strike replied.
“You say that, yet I know you. When the war is joined you will be there, ready to defend Equestria as she needs you, always in her darkest hour.”
“As always...” He responded, lost in thought.
As always… June fifth, 112 ADF
Grif smiled for the first time in a long time as he walked down the village streets. Months of hunting animals, trading meat and furs, doing odd jobs for travelers needing a trained guide/ protector, Grif had finally collected the equivalent of seventy golden beaks. Beaks were the gryphon’s form of currency in the homeland. The beaks were miniature casts of the emperor's own beak and traded widely amongst the empire. And today, the trade caravans would pass through. With trade between Equestria and Gryphonia officially cut off, the caravans would stop at the northern isles on their way to the Stampede Ground of the minotaurs in order to get their hands on what goods they could by proxy.
Grif’s old blades were corroded from the salt of the sea and despite his regular cleanings he was losing a battle to rust. So Grif had been saving simply for a new set of swords. He found himself surrounded by others of his village flying out to the small island that the caravans would camp on. They used to come right to the villages, but with the plague still common, the caravans had chosen to camp outside of any settlement. And the ones allowed into the camps were carefully screened.
No one seemed to pay Grif any mind today as the group took across the sea between the islands. The flight was quick and uneventful, the group gracefully touching down on the beach. The Gryphons carefully checked Grif over and he passed almost immediately. Grif had never fully understood it, but the plague had ignored him. The gryphon could wander amongst the sick and not so much as cough. For many this had been confirmation he was in fact an old soul blessed by the spirits. Because of this the general opinion of him, for the first time, had been lighter.
Grif eyed the collection of booths that surrounded him. They were filled with everything from exotic meats to something new from Saddle Arabia. The traders referred to it as ‘chocolate.’ despite the wonders, Grif kept his distance from most of the traders. He had only met Gryphonians a few times in his life and he had never truly liked them. They were not haggling prices and they treated females and hatchlings cruelly. Still, currently, they were necessary for the survival of the fledgling country.
Grif approached a booth lined with weapon racks. Blades, axes, spears, bows, maces, and clubs lined the display. The styles varied incredibly, partially due to these weapons being a mix of the work of gryphon smiths, and those captured and looted in battle. The grey gryphon behind the counter eyed him, carefully inspecting him to see how far he thought he could push his luck.
“Good morrow, young warrior,” he spoke. His griphic carried a strange undertone, almost clumsey. “I see you have come to my shop. Tell me; what fine weapon I could offer a fierce predator such as yourself? A spear perhaps? Maybe a broadsword? This one came off the body of a minotaur berserker. No finer work for such a low price.”
Grif rolled his eyes as he went back to examining the weapons. Many were trash, so old or mistreated that they had little war left in them. Grif’s gaze stopped at a rather nicely lined chest. Hidden in a back corner, it made for a perfectly shielded space. An excellent place for a merchant to hide his true good stock. “Open the chest.” Grif spoke as he had seen Graf speak, his tone neither rude or polite. It was clear, however, that this wasn’t something for debate.
The grey gryphon looked in shock for a moment, having taken Grif for a young, headstrong upstart, he hadn’t expected him to discern there might be better stock. “I see you have an eye for stronger steel.” The gryphon nodded as he lifted the chest with a groan, turning the lock to open it. He removed several weapons, each carefully wrapped in oiled cloth. His face seemed more and more displeased as the gryphon shook away weapon after weapon. Finally, Grif stopped him as he examined a particularly intriguing set. The blades were long one handed swords that curved upwards towards the end. Made from polished steel, they came down to a lethal edge. The middle was flattened out and reinforced with bronze plates. The handles were straight and wrapped in some type of hide with a rounded hand guard, allowing the entire tallon to be shielded by it.
Without bothering to ask permission, Grif lifted the blades, a quick glare forestalling the objection by the booth owner. Standing back he gave them a few practice swings, testing their weight and movement. Stopping, he stood for a moment, his face assuming an expression of deep thought, though Grif was merely waiting a bit to make the merchant tense and hopefully make driving down the price easier. He set them on the counter. “How much?”
“Eighty five golden beaks,” The Merchant spoke. “Truly a steal for such weapons. Many have fallen to these blades.”
“Yes, the scratches and dents along the blade tell me that much.” Grif cut him off pointing out the various flaws that riddled the blades. To the untrained eye or the unobservent they might not have been noticed. “Fifty beaks. It will probably cost me more than that having them cleaned up by a smith.”
“For fifty beaks you couldn’t buy the bronze used to plate them.” The merchant spat. “You will lead me to ruin if I give them to you for seventy eight beaks.”
“They are used, and they are filthy.” Grif growled. “It will take hours to get this horrible fish oil you polished them with off.” Grif made a repulsed grimace. “I will take these abominations off your talons for fifty five.”
The merchant looked at Grif as though he were attempting to set him on fire. “Seventy three and I will throw in some sheaths.” The griffon offered. “And I shall not survive next winter.”
“I’m not buying sheaths. I will give you sixty beaks and I will still be overpaying.” Grif growled. The two gryphons proceeded to roar into the other’s faces. They held a solid glare for a minute before the booth owner backed off.
“Very well, sixty beaks.” His demeanor melted away, replaced by a much kinder one. “You barter well.” He laughed
Grif proceeded to count out the money, the equivalent of seventy Golden Beaks. His payments of gold beaks had been mixed in with gemstones and even some gold bits. After some careful calculations, Grif and the shopkeeper embraced arms talon to elbow, the sign of an honorable trade. Taking his new weapons, Grif turned to leave. However, something caught his eye as he walked away. From the booth selling meats, the butchers wife left the tent and for a moment Grifs eye’s caught something that horrified and disgusted him. In the tent stood a cage, and within the cage, one trembling, one bleak, stood Equestrian ponies.
Northern Isles gryphons did not eat sentient beings. It was a disgusting, horrible act. Grif’s talons lingered for a moment on his new acquisitions, part of him screaming to do justice’s work and destroy the offenders. But looking around he noted there were more traders, the islanders, each well armed and more than a few with armed guards. Swallowing hard, the gryphon held his head up. He would not be able to win in a direct confrontation. He would have to resort to cunning instead. Casually making his way past the butcher’s booth he sunk a talon into the side of the tent and continued to walk. The sound of tearing fabric caused several gryphons to turn and look at the suddenly visible caged ponies. The islanders began to shout loudly. Many began returning their meat, demanding things from there money back to personal duels. In the confusion Grif grasped the cage in his talons and with all his strength, pulled it into the nearby brush out of sight. Grif had no formal experience with lockpicking so the gryphon simply drove his knife into the lock, the lock broke as his knife snapped but the gryphon couldn’t care less. A weapon could be replaced. A life could not. Releasing the ponies he looked into their faces. “There is a cave down by the beach. Hide there till I come for you.” He ordered. The ponies stared at him strangely as they left the cage, galloping as fast as their hooves could carry them.
Grif exited the brush as the traders finally managed to bring order back. Grif would not let it remain calm for long. “We seceded Gryphonia so this evil would not come upon us, yet you bring the emperor’s corruption to us.” The islanders shouted loudly in agreement. “Give us this butcher to our justice and leave our shores!” Once again Grif’s words were met with cheers.
“You dare raise a blade to a Gryphonian? The emperor would raise this place to the ground.” The butcher growled back.
Grif lifted his sword, carefully looking down it. “The emperor lost power here. He agreed to let us live by our own power. You have defied him by defying our laws. The penalty is death still. Leave the butcher and leave us.” The crowd began to murmur. The butcher was obviously sweating, the guards were not sure, even with their greater numbers, if they could maintain their honor fighting the islanders. Honor was paramount in gryphon society. Even above death.
Finally, a large gryphon armed to the teeth and wearing fine armor approached. Lifting his voice he addressed the crowd.
“My northern brothers! I am Talos, leader of this caravan!” The crowd lifted it’s voice in anger at the gryphon. “My brothers, please. I had no knowledge of this upon my word of honor. Please leave this worm to my justice and let us continue our peaceful dealings!” The crowd murmured amongst themselves all eye’s seemed to turn to Grif.
“He will see proper justice?” Grif looked to Talos, his blade still raised. The two gryphons eyed each other, it was clear the other gryphon was the veteran of many battles, his body trailed with scars that labeled years of experience. In a fight, Grif was not confident he could win should this gryphon demand a duel…
“I shall present his head to your village personally.” Talos finally spoke, lowering his beak to Grif in acknowledgement.
“Then let it be so. If you fail, then I shall denounce you as oath breaker. All shall know your blood holds no truth.” Grif answered traditionally. With a flourish he returned his sword to it’s place. The crowd, appeased by the justice done, dispersed back to their dealings as the guards forcibly closed the butchers booth.
Three hours later Grif traveled to the cave.
“It’s only me. You are safe.” Grif spoke.
The two earth ponies, brother and sister, stared back in shock and fear and huddled in a corner. “Wh… Thank you.” The sister replied. “I, I am forever in your debt. They…” She sniffed. “They ate our parents.”
The Brother glared a little. “Will you teach me the blade so I can protect the only family I have left? I will do anything, even pledge to whatever ruler you have in your island as my sovereign. I will not let any more harm come to my sister.”
“On my oath, friend, I need nothing from you.” Grif smiled. “We of the Northern Isles live apart so that we may pursue peace with our Equestrian friends.” Speaking Equestrian was still tricky for Grif. He always found his accent strange. “We have no leader. All are bound by the law. The elder judge disputes. But none hold another by any bind save their own”
“Uh,” The sister muttered. “Well, in that case, I, I do know some herbs that might lessen the symptoms I have over heard in that cage. If you will help we could petition some of the nobles in the mainland. Please, let us do something to repay your kindness.”
The brother nodded. “I am Tall Oak and my Sister is Little Willow. I pledge both of our service to you for what you have done. We have no one left. We fear we are the last of the farming community on the plains border.”
Grif stared at them. “You know not the severity of what you say.” Grif said. “When a gryphon pledges to a lord, they only release the debt with their death. Please. No one will need know about this. I will fly you to the mainland and you can be amongst your kin.”
Little Willow looked at the Gryphon, “At least ask the lords to help if you take us. we shall help you all we can, and we shall pledge support the the first house that agrees to help your kin here.” She looked at her brother. “You helped all the kin I have left. Let us try and do the same with your isles.”
“I will take you to my island. My hut is small, but you are welcome to it. I will try my best to find something for you. I am afraid the only vegetables I have have already gone into my stew last night.”
Little Willow smiled. “I am sure we can find something. Just, when you take us to the mainland we will petition the Lords there for help. I will need herbs from there anyway to help with the sick here.”
“On my oath, I will keep you safe.” Grif said. “Not all gryphons are the same. The island gryphon will not eat pony meat. Remember there will be nothing to fear. You, stallion, shall stay here. I will take the mare first.” With that Grif dropped a wing and a leg, offering his back to the pony.
Learning to Stand, August Sixteenth, 122 ADF
Pensword stood in the office. It was a crude space with rough walls and a dirt floor. The desk, however, relayed the sense of power in the type of furniture built by Earth Ponies. Pensword remained at the stance he had been taught, a stance of attention. He had been ushered into the room and told to remain at attention until the Commandante of Fort Jasmine came to set his papers in order for the start of his military career.
On the desk a wooden nameplate featured prominently with the name ‘Commandante Supreme Sunrise’ carefully engraved. “Wow, that sure is a big desk,” a somewhat familiar voice said from beside him.
He did not even flinch, not even an ear moved from his stance
“Whatcha doiiing?” The female voice asked curiously.
Pensword did not respond, recalling mentally the order in which he could move as well as feeling this was a test of his ability to remain still, or at least following orders. He did, however, blink as blinking was allowed due to the fact that blinking was a natural occurring event that no pony could control.
“Oh that is right, you have to stand still till I say something. What was that something again..?” The mare scratched her head. “Oh yeah. OVER EASY, RECRUIT!” she, at least Pensword assumed it was a she, shouted in as stern a tone as she could muster.
Pensword took the order for what she meant to say. He still did not speak, but he knew it was really At Ease, Recruit. Still, he did blink and turned his head to his left where the voice had been, only there was no pony there. He turned to face the desk and saw a mare sitting behind it. A flour white Pegasus Mare with a curly poofy blond mane. He blinked again.
“So you're the hopeful that I have been hearing about.” She was quite suddenly in his face, standing sternly. “I’ve been hearing alot about you.” She poked his nose with a hoof. “But you know who else I’ve heard a lot about? Every noble’s sixth cousin twice removed because they can put their shirt on straight. So let’s skip the paperwork and get to the real meat of the situation.” She sat once again at her desk leaning in. “Who are you, and more importantly, why are you here? Ooh, and mostest importantly, what do you want to achieve?”
Pensword stood taller. “Pensword, Ma’am.” he spoke crisply as he looked at the desk. “I am here as the town of Mountainside Falls wishes to bring back knowledge to fight the encroaching bandits and Gryphon raiders invading our lands. I also wish to make my great grandfather proud if I can.” He took another breath. “Most important. I wish to achieve training and skills that can help prepare and protect those of my kin and family around me. No matter where I may be stationed nor what threat may be. Natural or Creature, or even War based.”
The mare nodded. “So then, you understand that we train ponies for the guard and the army.” The mare’s demeanor suddenly became very serious “Have you been made aware we are all but at war?” she asked.
“You refer to the closing of trade between Gryhonia and Equestria? How the borders are getting a little tighter? I am. I just feel that this is where I need to be, even though I want to be back home building a wall. I live a week’s flight from the borderlands, which is a two day flight of no entry zone just on our side.”
The pegasus nodded. “You realise with those teeth and those ears that things will be difficult for you?” she asked.
“I have faced ribbings and a black eye from school before. I have a goal in mind, with a goal in mind I can push through any problems sooner rather than later, Ma’am.” Once again he was calm and spoke with a polite yet firm tone of voice.
Supreme Sunrise nodded again. “It’s too bad about the restrictions. We could use more ponies with that sort of outlook. I have a general policy of no special treatment. I can’t speak for others but I can personally guarantee you will never receive either scorn or favors from me. You understand that recruit?”
“Crystal Clear, Commandante Supreme Sunrise. I shall leave my letters of recommendation and valor with you then. They are in the saddle bag, by, uh, that is to say the papers in your hooves, Ma’am.” Pensword could have sworn they were not there a moment ago. still, he blinked and fell silent.
“Well, Pensword, you obviously have the mindset. And from what I can tell, you're healthy or are there any conditions I should be aware of?” she asked.
He did not know why. But he spoke something. “None that I can think of. I can hear hoof falls better than others so I am good for sentry duty.” he blinked. Why did he just say a joke about his health and hearing to the Commandante?
“It says you are already well trained with a bow, a knife, and a small axe. Going by that eyetooth around your neck I will assume that this bear report is true. I take it you have all of your gear on you?” she asked.
“I did Ma’am. I hid it as I went to turn in the gear I brought with me for the first year so I can learn on regular issued gear. I have,” He did not smile but he spoke candidly. “Issues, with stuff never being returned to me. I took care of hiding my things.”
Supreme Sunrise perked up again with a large smile that Pensword would swear actually brightened the room. “Then you’re terrific. Proceed to get measured for a training uniform. We are waving the traditional forty bits for fitting and usual charges because you have been fully sponsored by Lord Hammer Strike. Quite an achievement. if we do go to war you may just already have a comission waiting for you.” She noted
“Spo.. sponsored?” He sputtered. “I knew I would be in his payroll, to be forwarded to my family, but, he… he is sponsoring my ENTIRE education here?” He reared his head back in total shock and wonderment. A Noble doing that. He could only blink as he stood there in shell shock.
“Yes. It was surprise for us as well. Lord Hammer Strike is a generally near silent Noble. At this stage his entire military power is mostly made up of separate mercenary groups he contracted. To catch his attention you must have really made an impression.” Supreme Sunrise nodded. “Well, I see no problem with you moving forward. And anyone who does will have to go through me. Welcome to the Academy Private Pensword.” The pegasus offered a wing salute.
Pensword returned the salute as the door opened and an aide to Supreme Sunrise held it for Pensword to exit. He did so promptly, ignoring the slight scowl that the aide had as he mentally told himself that she might have one all the time or she just woke up on the wrong side of the cott. Still, he mentally prepared himself for what might come next.
Welcome to the Academy Twenty Third August 115 ADF
“And so, sir, with this gryphon band that has been visiting the noble estates in the area obviously being a spying party I think it would be best if we stepped up security.” Silver Cane announced to Hammer Strike. The grey coloured unicorn was the current steward of house Strike.
Hammer Strike hummed in thought for a moment. “Do you have any names? There is bound to have been one.”
The steward produced a list. “Thran son of Thrask, Houn son of Haraan, Fesk daughter to Thrann, and Grif son of Graf. They are also accompanied by two earth ponies, a Tall Oak and Little Willow.”
“Repeat the last gryphon’s name,” Hammer Strike requested. “That one sounded familiar.”
“Grif, son of Graf? Milord, he is a nameless, clanless gryphon. From what I have been able to tell he has no name for himself.” Silver Cane seemed quite shocked by Hammer Strike’s sudden interest.
“And yet, for some reason I remember that name from somewhere.” Hammer replied, placing a hoof on his head. “I just can not place it. Leave security as it is. If you do a change so suddenly you could cause alarm.” He finished.
“Very well, milord.” Silver Cane nodded. “Shall I let the guards know to turn them away when they present themselves?”
“Let them in.” Hammer Strike said simply.
“Y, yes. Very well, milord.” Silver Cane nodded. “Is there anything else?”
“Nothing that I can remember at this time. I will be sure to alert you if something does happen.” Hammer Strike finished.
Silver Cane bowed before turning and leaving the room.
After he left the room Hammer Strike immediately opened the drawers of his desk, pulling out parchment, a quill, and inkwell.
‘Celestia
I require an immediate teleportation to Unity. Time is approaching.
~Hammer Strike’
Quickly taking out the enchanted lighter he sent the letter, not bothering to seal it this time.
Roughly five minutes and a flash of light later Hammer Strike found himself standing before Celestia in the throne room. clearly his message had been a convenient excuse to close court.
“Were you reading my mind? Can you read minds now? I literally just thought ‘Dear mother please let somepony have need of my immediate help so I can stop this circus,’ and then poof, your letter.” Celestia stared at him.
“Perhaps. We shall see. I do not know and now is not the time. I am trying to remember everything right now.” Hammer Strike said, almost immediately heading off in the direction of the library. “I need to return to my body, as well as release Moonshade.”
Celestia smiled. “It is finally time is it? I thought you seemed more…. committed than you have been for a while.”
Hammer Strike chuckled for the first time in ages . “It only took me thirty or more years to gain some true clarity.”
Celestia’s horn ignited and in an instant they were back in the secret library room.
“Shall we wake her first or set you back?” She asked.
“Wake her first. Then we shall get to work on myself.”
Celestia ignited her horn and focused. In short order, Moonshade stood before the broken portrait.
“Is it time for our meeting already?” Moonshade asked.
“Grif is on his way to Noble houses. You told me to keep an ear out for that. It has been thirty five years or more. It is nearly time.” Hammer Strike replied.
Moonshade, or rather Lunar Fang, brightened visibly at this. “And that means soon we shall see Pensword again.”
“And now, let us set you right.” Celestia looked to Hammer Strike. “Stand over there and prepare yourself.” She pointed to a spot next to the painting.
Following directions, Hammer Strike stood where he was directed to.
“I thought golems didn’t age.” Lunar Fang noted. “His eye’s look so ancient.”
“The eye’s are a window into the soul.” Celestia noted. “They will reflect your age no matter how young your face.” It was at that time Moonshade noted Celestia’s eyes looked younger than she remembered. The solar princess ignited her horn, a second layer of magic covering the first as she cast the two spells in tandem. Hammer Strike once again felt the feeling of inertia and dizziness. When the light died he stood in front of the broken painting. Not far off the golem stood as if asleep.
After blinking a couple of times he found himself putting a hoof to his neck and giving a small stretch before his hoof went to his chest. Pausing there a puzzled look came on his face. “Huh…” He muttered.
“Is something wrong?” Celestia asked.
“No… Just, feels odd having a pulse again…” He said, shaking his head as he put his hoof back onto the ground.
“You look amazing for being clinically dead all that time.” Lunar Fang laughed.
“Tell me about it…” He muttered for a moment, blinking a couple of times. “I feel very…” He stopped speaking for a moment. “Very…” His eyes closed and he fell off to the side, his body going limp.
Celestia sighed. “It will take some time for his mind to sort through thirty six years of information. I will teleport him to his bed and you to his study for now. If anypony asks simply claim to be a new hireling.” Lunar Fang had just enough time to nod as Celestia’s horn lit up. Then they vanished.
Time is upon us, November Second, 126 ADF
Hammer Strike awoke with a start, partially due to him feeling mentally refreshed, and also because of the startling idea of actually sleeping. After shaking his head for a moment and pushing himself up he immediately headed for his office, his mind following his daily routine. He walked through the hallways, the time being around three thirty two or so.
Upon opening the door he was greeted with the sight of Moonshade, his mind taking a moment to register that it actually was Moonshade.
“Hammer Strike?” She asked, shocked. “Shouldn’t you still be asleep?”
“How long was I asleep for?” He asked
“Just about three hours.” She noted. “Celestia was sure you’d be out longer.”
“Just because I am mentally exhausted does not mean I am physically.” Hammer Strike shrugged, heading to his desk and pulling out parchment and his writing tools.
“What are you doing now?” Moonshade asked.
“Writing a note.” He replied simply.
‘Dear Celestia
Thanks for the confident remark.
~Hammer Strike’
With a quick motion he pulled out the enchanted lighter and sent the letter after sealing it.
Grif spat as he and his group left the pony lord’s hold. The ‘Honorable’ Lord Top Shelf had not been interested in sending healers to a non-equestrian land with no natural resources and promising a petty sum in return for help. Grif had not been angered by this. Many pony lords had refused them under the understandable terms that Equestria was needing to strengthen it’s resources for the war. What had angered Grif was the stuffed shirt had the audacity to have them escorted out by armed guard lest they “make off with anything of value.”
It had been two years since he brought Little Willow and Tall Oak to his home. The gryphons had been distrusting of the two Equestrians at first. Eventually though, Little Willow’s aid had not only eased the suffering of many of the sick, but the earth pony mare had managed to save a young hatchling as well.
Over the course of those years the mare and stallion had settled in with relative ease despite the conditions. Grif, to his own surprise, found the company welcome in the usually silent house. Little Willow had managed to acquire some seeds and with a small patch of earth amongst the rocks that surrounded the village she had managed to keep a somewhat successful garden for feeding her and her brother as well as providing herbs for treatment. Despite the peaceful path of healing she chose, both Grif and her brother had agreed she should learn to fight with a knife in case anything should arrive. As such Grif taught her as his father had taught him. It meant she went to bed with some extra bruises for a while, but much to Grif’s pleasure, she seemed to take to it well. Soon she was at the point where she could fight Grif himself to a standstill.
Tall Oak had picked a more violent path and had insisted on learning the ways of the warrior from Grif. The gryphon had trouble compressing so much in what little time they had, but Tall Oak had showed a keen skill with the bow and later a great flair for the broadsword.
Still, the gryphons around the colony had not found the idea of sending out requests for help to be necessary. Not until three months ago, when the plague surged, wiping out nearly a third of the island chain’s population. With much pushing and arguing Grif had managed to convince the elders to send himself and the Equestrians out with three other gryphons whose clans had been nearly wiped out by the plague.
Grif eyed his companions warily as they walked. Thran was a large blue gryphon from the same island as Grif, but he lived on the opposite end of the village so their interactions had been few. The large gryphon wore his family’s armor proudly with the ceremonial crest carved into the chest plate. Thran had come in hopes of saving his mother, who was weakening by the day.
Houn and Fesk were a newly paired couple from one of the farther islands. They had been some of the first gryphons to agree that asking for help from Equestria may be the only chance they had at this point. The emperor had made it clear when the northern islands seceded there would be no aid from Gryphonia for anything. Grif had heard rumors but he was not sure that Fesk’s sister really was ill. Still, if the rumors held true, this journey would be a last attempt to save her before she was lost like so many others.
Grif pulled his cougar skin closer. As they walked the wind was bitter and cold and the island gryphons were unused to the snow falling around them. Grif looked back to his two companions, both faring better than him in their simple deerskins. Earth ponies were a hardy stock. They took the cold in stride.
“That is the sixth lord.” Thran growled. “These ponies are no different than our Gryphonian brothers. We should turn back and spend time with those we left behind while we still can.”
“There is still one hold left. It is not far and we could make it there by nightfall if we keep going. Perhaps this Hammer Strike will be more honorable than the rest.” Grif said as he attempted to read the map while brushing snow from his eyes.
“We have been away for two weeks, foundling! Who knows if any of those we hope to save still live? We should fly home!” Thrann had turned to Grif, glaring.
“We cannot fly in this weather, my friend.” Houn spoke. “It would do us better to find a place to stay until the storm breaks. If this hold is close, perhaps this lord will give us a roof if nothing else. I say we head there”
Thran growled his disapproval for the situation but conceded that they did indeed need somewhere to stay. “To the hold then.”
Grif nodded appreciatively to Houn as they trudged in the direction of Hold Strike. Grif looked to his companions, they in turn nodding that they understood. The gryphon had been pleasantly surprised when the earth ponies picked up gryphic from their time together. But the Equestrian princesses were apparently fluent, despite lacking beaks. Maybe gryphons just underestimated them. Either way, things in the past were not of consequence right now. The gryphon trudged onward in the snow, still attempting to keep track of the map. He prayed that this Lord Hammer Strike had at least the decency to offer them a berth for the night.
He prayed Equis at least held some decency left…
A Journey of a Thousand Miles, November Third, 124 ADF
Pensword stood still at attention. He only blinked to keep the dust, and some spittle from the current Major in charge of his first year of training, out of his eyes. He didn’t even flinch as the rust red Pegasus took another deep breath and continued.
“You call this bed clean? You call this military regulated?” He moved to show the unmade bed that he had torn apart in his inspection. “I want you to make it again six times. Cold meal as well for your actions. Am I Clear?”
“Yes Major. Thank you Major.” He responded. One thing that Supreme Sunrise had added to the words that a Cadet year one could say other than yes and no, or I don’t know, was thank you.
The Major looked like he wanted to lay into him again over the words but turned around and stormed out of the room. Pensword did not move. He had not been ordered to fall out to fulfill his duty. A moment later Supreme Sunrise walked through while looking over a stack of papers. She did not even look up. “Fall Out, Private, and follow your orders. I will tell Major Sore Wing I gave the order to move.”
Pensword nodded. “Yes, Ma’am.” He responded and quickly went to work making his bed. He paused and wrote down the information only when he finished it once, twice. He was working an hour later on his final move to get inspected when Lieutenant Harsh Will walked in.
The Unicorn Stallion blinked and bellowed. “ATTENTION!!” Pensword had just tucked the last corner in and quickly turned, snapping to attention even as the voice started the echo phase. “What are you doing in here? You were suppose to eat chow with the rest of the cadets, or are you thinking you are too special with a sponsor?”
“No, Sir.” Pensword replied in a shout.
“Well, tell me, why were you not at chow?” Harsh Will stepped forward the temperature in the room seemed to drop a few degrees.
“No Excuses, Sir.” Pensword responded as he kept staring ahead. Harsh Will stepped forward into his line of sight.
“Very good. Now, tell me the real story. Tell me your excuse.” Harsh Will responded.
“Orders, Sir. I failed in inspection of my bed and had to remake it six times during chow, I shall eat later tonight I was told. Cold Chow.”
“Sore Wing.” came the annoyed sound of the Lieutenant. “Right, I will inform Sore Wing you have first watch, I will make sure you have a mini feed bag to eat while guarding the hallway. Just eat quickly while the cadets say their nightly praise to Luna… Thestrals, I hear, say theirs at the height of her night. You can say it after first shift.”
“Thank you, Sir.” Pensword replied with a stoic tone.
“Very good. Now what will you do since I passed your bunk test?” He walked back holding a gold bitcoin. “Also, good bounce.” he replied with a slight smile.
“Weapon polish on the Cadet chestplate. Mine appears to be smudged again. Parade is tomorrow.” He replied with the same flat tone.
“You do know you won’t be passed. Sore Wing made sure that you would either become too old for Cadets or drop out with him in charge.”
“Don’t Care. I have more then myself tomorrow to care for.” Pensword replied before flinching knowing that a smack was due for speaking candidly.
“Good, talked back a little on what is important tomorrow. I will ignore that outburst, I hope Blue Vase passes tomorrow as well. Good Mare. She will do well as a medic in later training.”
Pensword nodded. “I taught her the best I could to fly, Sir. She should pass her flight test.”
“And if she does not?”
“Then we both work on passing next year.” Pensword muttered. “I came in later then her, I know. But if you saw what I can see, sir.” He stopped. “No Excuses Sir.” he cut himself off.
“Please, right now you earned in my eyes the rights of a second year. Just keep that head in check. Go on, go polish your armor. Oh, and grab that feed bag on your way anyway… free time is two hours tonight, Lights out at Sundown.”
“Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir.” Pensword responded.
“Dismissed Cadet.” Harsh Will replied. He watched Cadet Pensword leave then looked at the bunk and sighed. “Well, seems he is going to keep the locker in this room again.” He turned around to see Sore Wing enter the room and turn beet red. “I dismissed him, passed.”
“Lieutenant!” The bellow could be heard through the first year side of the camp. “He is MY CHARGE and MY WASH OUT!” he snorted steam from his nose. “But thanks to what you did.” he grinned wider. “I can ban him from even attending the ceremony, let’s see that flightless bird try without her little crutch… two worthless ponies sent home under my watch, this will be a good year.” He turned around with a malicious sneer and trotted out.
That night Pensword stood in the hallway to the first year cadet barracks. Tonight, he felt, was going to be the hardest watch. Every single year tradition spoke of the older classes playing all tartarus on the first years’ ceremony, stealing uniforms and placing them in hard to reach places, tying beds together. It was not good.
Pensword twitched an ear and turned as he held the wooden sword in his wing. He knew that the usual bribe would not be offered. The older cadets had made it clear that they would like to see the bat bird go home. Or washed out in the first month. He had lasted a year so far. He raised the sword and stepped into the light, scaring a Fifth year cadet as he stepped from the shadows. “Shouldn’t you be in bed, cadet? I can still call the Night Watch, and that would be a demerit on your part.”
Pensword smiled as the Cadet backed up. One thing he had also gotten through the academy in the outlands was that he did not bend the rules. He was the scourge to all those that tried to mess with the first years in their sleep. Even after all this time whenever he had an early shift or even when he was off duty, Pensword would find his own area the most attacked. Though it had been slowly tapering off of late. Still, he continued his patrol. He already knew he would not be attending tomorrow's event.
Pensword paused as the time appointed for the changing of the guard arrived and blinked. “Blue Vase?” he asked in shock.
The Pegasus mare smiled. She took a wrapped bundle from her bag and hoofed it to Pensword.”I thought you might be a little hungry. It was the brownie from tonight. Eat it, and, thank you for what you have done. No matter what I am staying in. Even if I have to retake year one again.”
Pensword actually smiled. “Good. We need healers like you. Do your best. I will be rooting for you from in here.” He gave a salute after placing the Brownie in his saddle bag. “I hand over this post to the next shift. Keep us safe.”
Blue Vase smiled and returned the salute. “I maintain the present in honor of the past.” She replied. Pensword had been teaching her the traditional words of the Empty tomb. To represent all the troops in Equestria’s past, and Discord's rampage who never were found. Pensword nodded and walked away to his bunk, but not before eating the brownie outside the hallway. He slipped into his cot and closed his eyes, dropping to sleep five minutes later.
Failed First Year. Thirty seconded of August 116 ADF
Grif pounded on the large wooden doors with his talon. “We request an audience.” He shouted at the top of his lungs.
The doors opened and a group of four guards were standing. “We shall lead you to the audience room. Our lord has been expecting your visit now for some time.”
The gryphons were a bit startled at the demeanor of these guards, completely devoid of either of the two tones they had come to expect, they held neither fear nor malice in their voices. Houn bowed his head to the guards. “Lead and we shall follow.”
The guards nodded and turned around, leading them through the large doors and to the left, down another hallway, and paused at some doors. “Our lord is behind this door, you shall be locked inside the room, while we wait outside. He will be wearing armor and have a weapon nearby. If you try anything, he will harm you. His scribe for the day is a Thestral, do not be alarmed, she too will be armored and armed with a short blade. You may keep your weapons with you if you wish.” The guards spoke in a tone that said they were actually looking forward to the reactions given. “This is a speech given to all guests.” The Guard kicked the door behind him, and the doors swung open to show the audience room with a carpeted path to a seat at the other end. What surprised them was instead of a raised area where the noble would sit, Hammerstrike sat on the floor on a simple cushion. Even more surprising were the extra cushions laid out for each of them in front of him.
Another guard spoke up. “He wishes to say he has crates of weapons behind the pillars if you wish to make it interesting. However, a fair warning, the last assassin who tried to kill him ... we have not found him. In fact, our Lord would not tell us what he has done to the last body.”
The unusual party entered the room slowly, keeping their heads low to show they respected the lord and his house. “You honor us with this chance to speak with you, Lord Hammer Strike. Please be assured we mean you and your house no harm.” Thran spoke at a careful and measured pace.
“I would not just leave you out in the cold now.” Hammer Strike replied. “Though I do want to ask you something.”
“Yes your lordship?” Thran asked.
“I want to ask why all of you are finding interest in the carpet.” They could tell he had a small smile on his muzzle.
“Is it not Equestrian tradition for those of the lower classes to keep their heads down in the presence of their nobles?” Houn asked.
“Perhaps. But I am not one to follow tradition.” Hammer replied. “If I remember correctly, the guards seemed to mention that I typically leave weapons around for any who wish to try and fight me.”
The gryphons raised their heads slowly, and warily, unsure if this lord was simply looking for a reason to remove them from his house.
“Lord Hammer Strike, we are from the Northern Isles, a small chain of islands only a few miles north east of here.” Grif spoke. “And we have come to ask for your help.”
“Okay.” Hammer Strike replied.
The gryphons looked to each other, confused. This Lord was unlike the last six in every way. “A plague had taken our islands and we are without healers. If you would just send a few to our islands we would be eternally in your debt. The islands are not wealthy in natural resources, but our villages have taken a fund and we can offer it as an immediate repayment with a promise we will have more as soon as we can attain it.”
“Only a few? I have around…” He paused. “Fifteen on standby that I can send to your aid.”
“Your generosity is boundless, Lord Hammer Strike.” Fesk spoke up, elated. “We will do everything to make sure you are suitably repaid.”
“Keep the payment.” Hammer Strike said simply.
“Then please let us give it to you for a bed for the night.” Grif said. “We fear we will not be able to make our way home in this weather.”
“You are free to stay, and as said, keep the payment. You will be able to put it to better use than I shall.” Hammer Strike replied.
The gryphon stared at Hammer Strike completely taken aback, but none more than Grif himself. Having lived with only his father for so long, he had not seen the generosity of others much. Still, even without experience on such matters he knew that for one to be so giving was unspeakable. Even in these difficult times this pony was willing to extend his hoof to others, and to a species that had been causing his so much trouble as well. Grif stepped forward.
“My Lord Hammer Strike, may I please see your sword?” Grif spoke calmly, the gryphons stared at him, partially confused at his actions. Gryphons as a species lived their life by a code of three laws. The first of which was to always uphold the the honor of your oath.
The Thestral at his left, who had remained silent, leaned in and whispered to Hammer Strike’s ear. The Gryphons did not hear her words. “Let him do what he will, this will be safe.”
Hammer Strike gave a slight shrug and reached over, pulling out his typical blade, which just so happened to be nearly twice his size.
Grif nicked his talon on the tip. Carefully he ran the blood down the length of the blade to the hilt. “I bend my knee to your honor, and I pledge my life to uphold that honor.” He spoke slowly. The second law: make your oath only to the one whom you would bend your knee.
Behind Grif the gryphons’ reactions changed from confusion to a mix of anger and horror. They said nothing but all was clear from the looks they shot Grif. Tall Oak and Little Willow both looked on, confused.
“Use me as your shield or your sword. my life is yours to keep, I make this vow to follow you until the winds call me back and to make a place of honor for you amongst the spirits, I Grif son of Graf give you my oath. Use me as you would see fit.” The gryphon bent both his front legs before Hammer Strike, thus breaking the last law: a gryphon must only bend knee to a gryphon.
Hammer Strike raised his brow in confusion. A slight hum came from him as he seemed to be thinking about it.
“A gryphon only offers their oath to a person who they deem better than themselves.” Moonshade spoke in a hushed tone. “At this point in time it was unheard of for a gryphon to give this oath willingly or otherwise to anything but another gryphon.”
“Are you sure of this, Grif?” Hammer Strike asked.
“My lord.” Grif spoke with a tone that left no room for doubt. “I have lived a life where what little mercy was given was openly punished.” He looked to the other gryphons with a cold expression. “I am a foundling. In our society such ones are supposed to be doomed to die out of neglect, labeled as an attempt to stave off weakness. My father gave up clan and title, wealth and honor, to raise me as his own. He trained me to fight and to live well, he died of this plague because our so called brothers would not even dare to sell us the medicine we need. In the last few weeks I have heard lord after lord turn us away for want of payment or out of outright hatred. Today you have stooped to help those you have no business nor benefit in helping. In our faith a gryphon who serves a stronger being makes themselves stronger. You have shown far greater strength on this day then any gryphon or pony I have ever met. I am not yet strong enough to stoop so low, it is my hope you will teach me this strength.” Grif answered.
“If you are sure of this, I have no reason to stop you.” Hammer Strike replied. “If you are to make this choice, I hope you are prepared for what will follow.”
“To the death. Beyond if necessary.” Grif answered.
Hammer Strike gave a nod as he turned toward Lunar Fang and told her something quietly. “Can you get the guards to direct them to their rooms? I want Grif to stay here.”
Moon Shade nodded as she stepped away from Hammer Strike’s side. A moment later eight guards walked out from the side entry. She nodded her head to the group. “If you would follow these stallions they shall led you to the guest rooms for the evening. I shall have our cooks prepare a Gryphon meal to our best abilities for breaking tonight’s fast. Grif, if you would stay for a moment, my lord would have a private audience.” She bowed her head again politely to the Gryphons.
As the Gryphons started to leave, Tall Oak moved a hoof to the blade at his side. “If Grif stays, we stay as well. Since the day he saved us, we have served him and his island home. What is said to him, will be said with us.”
To her credit, Little Willow actually moved to stand. “I agree with my brother. Where Grif goes we follow.”
“My companions are all I have and I am all they have, if it is alright I would pray they stay with me.” Grif spoke.
“I understand that you wish for them to stay with you, but there is something I must speak with you about in private.” Hammer Strike said, his tone apologetic. “It will only be for a moment or so.”
Grif looked back at them and nodded.. “Wait outside. I won’t be long.” He ushered them out. Though Tall Oak clearly didn’t like it and Little Willow’s eyes were filled with misgiving and concern.
After waiting a moment, Hammer Strike nodded and reached into his coat. “Here.” He said, pulling out a locket before giving it one last look. After a second he held it out towards Grif. “It shall make sense eventually, though even I do not know when.”
Grif took the locket gingerly from the pony. He examined it closely. Something about it seemed so familiar. Ever so carefully, he opened the lock, allowing the locket to reveal it’s pictures, and then it hit him. The feeling was like the cold shock of ice water splashing as memories flooded his mind. A whole other life, a whole other family, a whole other species even. The flood kept coming and coming and would not stop until finally Grif fell to the floor. With a deep groan he began to pick himself up. “How long was I gone?”
“Depends on what you mean.” Hammer Strike said, a bit confused.
“I mean I stopped to clear off a mirror and next thing I know I’m here, my mind is full of weird memories, and I feel like I’ve been shot in the head.” Grif said.
Hammer Strike smiled as he realised what was happening. “You remember?” He asked.
“Well, either I remember or you drugged me.” Grif said.
“Those ‘weird memories,’ if I am correct, is the life you have lived.” Hammer Strike replied.
“Where is Matthew?”
“Matthew?” Hammer Strike asked before he paused, thinking. “Pensword. It has been awhile since I have checked on his location.”
Grif got to his feet slowly, lifting his head to look Hammer Strike in the eye. “How long have you been waiting?”
“I… Have been around for a bit.” Hammer answered.
“You know me better than that, Shawn. How long?” Grif asked again.
“Shawn?” Hammer asked for a second before shaking his head. “Right…” He sighed. “The last time I saw you was… Thirty six years ago.” He paused. “I think…”
“And in that time how much sleep did you get?” Grif asked.
“In order to follow history I had to be placed inside a golem to keep myself from time.” He answered. “Golems... Do not allow the controller to sleep.”
Grif face talloned. “You are possibly the stupidest smart person ever. You know that?”
“You do realise we are a thousand years in the past, correct? The spells that could fix these problems do not exist. It was either that, or age.” Hammer responded. “Imagine in the blink of an eye, seeing me age thirty years.”
“You had to stay awake for thirty six years? You couldn’t do it in shifts? You realise what that kind of thing does to your brain?”
“I could not leave my noble house, there was no pony available to run it, and it would apparently fall apart should I have left.” He replied. “The golem was able to somewhat preserve my mind, though … there were some problems over the years. My memories are ... foggy at best.”
“No more skipping sleep.” Grif said “How far are we from the war?”
“A couple years away I believe.” Hammer Strike responded. “Tension is rising and whatnot.”
Grif sighed turning to the yet ignored party in the room. “It’s good to see you Moonshade, or is it Lunar Fang at this point in the time stream?”
“Ha Ha.” She muttered. “To be cryptic as payback for keeping that truth from Pensword and I, that is a mix of yes and no.”
“Uh huh. I’m sure you’ve met the doctor. You know how angry he’d get for the spoilers?” Grif asked.
The Thestral smirked. “Well, still, it lets me be cryptic once to you crazy ponies… Who have now gotten me to be just as crazy with what is going to happen.” She frowned a little. “I, I, this is going to hurt Pensword greatly… the history books mention it, but,” She looked right at Grif. “We are going to see it raw.” She shivered a little, drawing her wings closely around her.
“And we shall help him find the vengeance he so rightly deserves, I promise you that. There will be a trail of blood from me to whoever hurt my friend. But his pain, I cannot prevent.” Grif sighed. “All things in perspective.”
Time has arrived, November Third, 124 ADF
Pensword and Blue Vase stood in the Academy Infirmary as an Earth Pony was patched up. Sore Wing watched on, shaking his head. “How can you two even waste your time on this cadet? Not a thought in his head, just liked his name.” He turned to look at the Earth Pony Stallion. “Is that not right, Applecore?”
The large white earth pony with deep red mane looked nervously at Pensword.
Pensword simply nodded his head as he stood behind Sore Wing. Sore Wing did not even deign to notice this exchange between the two.
“Nope.” The pony glared back at the Major, the first syllable drawn out with his deep bass.
“Excuse me?” Sore Wing sputtered in anger, even forgetting that at the moment they were to say yes, sir or no, sir. Still, he was utterly baffled at what he just heard. “Explain how a simple Apple grower can have more thoughts than a Unicorn or a pure Pegasus?” He asked using yet another way to jab at Pensword.
“I said nope.” The large stallion’s deep bass rumbled with his country accent as he assumed his full height, towering over both ponies and causing a small, stern ahem to come from Blue Vase. “I ain’t dumb.” The earth pony stomped. “I ain’t stupid and I ain’t slow. I don’t make trouble for no pony. I don’t care if they are a pegasi or a unicorn, but I won’t be called dumb by no tribalist.” The words seemed to be coming easier to the Earth Pony. “I came here to serve the princesses and to protect mah kin, but I ain’t dumb and I won’t let you call me that no more.”
“We shall see about that. Lord Hammer Strike does not have deep pockets. I will see to it that you three won’t pass this year’s test. Talking back to an officer.” He smiled slowly. “However, you have gumption. You need to learn that these two are not going to go far in their careers. Leave this room and I shall put in a good word for you to the best of the crew leaders in the year two class.”
Applecore smiled. “Sir.” He saluted, but his salute was aimed behind the major.
“Tribalist remarks to encourage quitting, Sore Wing?” A voice spoke behind the major. Supreme Sunrise stood at the door as the major did a swift turn, his once smug expression now replaced with a nervous salute. “Must I remind you this is a united army?”
“Commandante, My duties are to sift the wheat from the chaff. Send those that are chaff home with a letter of at least thanks for trying. So they can go about the tasks that they should be doing. An apple shaped like a shield?” He shook his head. “A healer who has trouble flying? A Bat Bird? How can we trust a mixed loyalty in the military?” He stood his ground. “I think we can talk about this in private, Commandante. This is not something to discuss in front of the recruits.”
“Major, check your privilege. You will never use that word in my presence. And be happy it was just me, if the princesses were to hear you make that remark, you’d be out of this military.” She glared at him. “I’ve noticed several variations between your reports and Harsh Will’s reports. Explain, Major.”
Sore Wing saluted. “I shall prepare a report for your desk next week, Ma’am. I can also speak to you in your office now if you want.”
“I believe I said explain Major.” The Commandante spoke in a much sterner tone. “I did not ask for a report. I did not ask to see you in my office. I asked you to explain, and explain you will. Now.”
Sore Wing saluted. “Of course, Commandante.” He dropped the salute after she returned it. “I feel that Harsh Will is actually being too soft on what are becoming wash outs. With us needing to be ready for a war, we must have true leaders for what is to come. Not only these three, but two more. One has been written up with sticky hooves for parts and equipment. The other is one who seems to be very anti authority. If anything, he only respects action over words and I do not know how, but Pensword has gotten both to toe the line when he is around. What will we do when they all go their separate ways? I cannot and will not promote this type of tribe forming in the camp. When it dissolves at graduation, all we will do is put more work upon those in the field already. We cannot afford the time to get them re-acclimated into a new unit. Time is not our ally. Reports from the front already tell us how two towers have been burned down under mysterious circumstances. Now is not the time for being a charity for those that are on the border line. We have to be hard and firm.”
“You're not from a military family, are you Sore Wing? Your family were farmers during the last war with the gryphons weren’t they?” Supreme Sunrise asked.
Sore Wing nodded. “Yes, Commandante, that is correct.” his replied, his voice showing confusion.
“My great great grandfather was a general in the Thunderwalkers.” The Commandante spoke. “They were, if you recall, the most successful military unit in Equestrian history with victory in no less than fifty two separate military situations undefeated. Do you know when that streak was broken major?”
“I do not Commandante.”
“Three minutes and forty five seconds after battle was joined with the gryphons. Because we hadn’t adapted. Because we were still using tactics from the pre-discordian era. We were using earth ponies as support and unicorns as mortar fire. The gryphons clawed through our best soldiers in less than five minutes. Do you know how my great great grandfather and others escaped with their lives that day?”
Sore Wing was about to say the answer, however, he noticed Pensword was listening in intense concentration. That look frankly unnerved him. Still, he turned to face away from the cadets. “Ma’am, I may know, but there are three here who do not. Please, fill them in.” he did smile a little showing that he would like them to hear the answer.
Supreme Sunrise turned to Applecore “Soldier, Answer.”
“The Earthbreakers, ma’am.” Applecore didn’t even stop to think.
“And what is an Earthbreaker?” Supreme Sunrise asked.
“Special breed of earth pony, ma’am. Focus their magic into the stone, can send a boulder over miles without breaking a sweat. Gryphons were unprepared for boulders being bucked at them for accuracy, just trained for catapults.” Applecore answered. “Great great great grandpa Appleroot was there that day.” He said with pride.
Supreme Sunrise nodded in approval before turning back to Sore Wing. “We aren’t fighting ponies here, Sore Wing. Gryphons train to battle as soon as they can walk. They have spent centuries focusing merely on the art of war. Every time you defeat one, the others look for ways to counter you. When this war breaks Equestria we'll have to accept new tactics, new thoughts, or she will perish. These ‘washouts,’ as you put it, have already shown the roots for battle tactics Equestria will need if we are to win this war. I love this country. Great pop pop loved Equestria too and I will walk into Tartarus blindfolded before I will see her fall because the ignorant cut out what may be a winning strategy.”
Sore Wing only looked at her blankly before nodding. “Very well,” He said, slowly, his face trapped in a grimace. “It ... appears, Commandante, that we have reached a stage that may not be passed easily. How about this? I shall not wash any ponies out this term. All get a free term next year, but they will work together. I shall even put Harsh Will in charge of them so that I do not see them till the final ceremony.”
“Fine. But you will not be near these ponies, nor any of your cronies in the older years.” Sore Wing balked. “Thats right I know about what you’ve been doing, major.” Supreme Surnrise pressed her muzzle right up against him. “You so much as issue one of them an order to blow their nose and I will have you dishonorably discharged. And I want these ponies, all your ‘washouts,’ bunked together. They will bunk together, act together, eat together. If one misbehaves, they will be punished together. At the exam next year we will see what’s true and what’s not.”
“... As you command.” Sore Wing replied with a sharp salute. “Shall Blue Vase or Apple Core be the cadet leader for the group?” He asked.
Supreme Sunrise eyed Pensword, her grin ever so notable. “I think Cadet Private Pensword shall assume the post of squad leader.”
Pensword and Sore Wing both yelled the same word at the same time. “What?”
Team Creation. Thirty seconded of July 116 ADF
Grif pulled up the now tanned cougar skin cloak to check its condition. The deep red dye was taking nicely to the hide. After some thought the gryphon had decided to keep the cloak with him and worked tirelessly to get the cloth to match the colors of his new house. Setting the fabric back in the dye the gryphon took some time to consider their current situation. Little Willow and Tall Oak were at the Northern Isles to aid the healers in setting up. The two ponies had made it very clear they would be returning to Grif when they were done despite his protests that they were not tied to him.
His fellow gryphons had said nary a word to him as they set off. He was dead to them, to all gryphons. For some reason though, Grif found this turn of events liberating. No longer bound by a code of honor that drew away from compassion he could pursue a betterment for his own person.
Then there was Taze and his memories. To say the transition had been completed in that one instance would be a lie. The two personas were still clearly separated even if both had access to each other’s memories. Grif still acted as the gryphon raised in the Northern Islands even as Taze still acted like a creature stranded somewhere he was not at all prepared to be. Despite this mental boundary neither side had been fully able to determine just where the one began and the other ended. Grif found himself speaking strangely and acting stranger at times while Taze seemed more angry, obsessed with perfecting his training.
It would be a few more years before Pensword would be able to fully join House Strike, meaning he wouldn’t remember anything even if the gryphon could see him, which Hammer Strike had expressly forbid. And Taze still felt bound by such an order, though the apparent oath was made by Grif.
There were certain advantages to being an Equestrian Gryphon. Despite the current problems Hammer Strike’s guards and servants, of which there were few, seemed to take the gryphon about openly and without any ill will. The forests of Equestria were rich with non-sentient game and even a few beasts the gryphon had taken the chance to test his mettle against. It had caused quite a stir when the gryphon strolled into the hold one day, bleeding and battered before offering his Lord the tail of a Manticore.
Target practice had at first been difficult as the targets the mercenary guards had set up were made for the point of a pony arrow, not the wide blade of a gryphon arrow. The first shot tore through the target and sunk into the floor half an inch from a pony’s hoof. It had taken a fair amount of time before they were able to find a target sturdy enough to take the impact.
Grif finally pulled the hyde from the dye. It now was a deep blood red. He laid it out on the table before him and calmly began to work on adding the symbol of House Strike to it. Grif had been fitted for his armor last night and was prepared to see it at any point within the next few hours, knowing the speed Hammer Strike possessed in the forges.
He felt they were standing above a large chasm, waiting to drop into what would be one of the most extreme experiences in their lives.
…Grif hoped. Taze knew. Either way, it would be ok in the end.
Lunar Fang entered the commons where he was dying the cloak. “Morning, Gryphon.” She paused and shook her head. “That does not have the same ring to it.” She muttered as she moved to sit at the table and took to nursing a mug. “Grif, Just to let you know, finances are not in trouble. Hammer Strike is in fact payrolling an entire unit as an experiment in the borderlands.” She winked a little to the Gryphon, hoping he caught the hint of who he was supporting.
“I miss him too, Lunar Fang.” He responded as he worked. “How are you holding up? I imagine things haven’t been easy for you.”
“I’ve been growing a thick hide from the nobles that are starting to make rude comments in the hallways when they visit upon seeing me as a personal guard to Lord Hammer Strike. I am trying to remind him of his old memories.” She shook her muzzle. “No, it has not been easy. Every day I am out of the painting I expect to see Pensword turn the corner excited about something new he learned, so happy, so carefree…” She frowned. “The Pensword of the war is a completely different Pony. The events will break him hard. No Pony has to see what he saw when he returned home to celebrate being an Officer. He knew he would remain on the frontier all his life, and then the war happened.” She shook her head. “He must have loved his town a lot to do what he did.” She paused and smiled. “So, how does it feel being an older brother to two earth ponies?” She asked with a smirk. “Thought of what will happen when we have go back to “normal?” she used her wings to make air quotes.
“From all accounts Pensword’s first interaction with Grif was very painful. I’ve been preparing myself as best I can, hoping I can harbour that storm.” The gryphon looked up from his work. “There is so much history that hasn’t been recorded.”
Moon Shade smiled a little. “Happens when legends fade from the memory of those that know them. Like Princess Luna.” She muttered. “Still, we shall have to see what happens.”
Dying the Feathers December Second 124 ADF
Pensword turned around as he patrolled the second shift. His first years were bunking in a newly crafted area in the outpost. He had amazed himself and the thirteen cadets, there had been fourteen but even Pensword knew that the Pony would not do well in the military. At the moment he was at House Strike as a cook. This thought and a few other thoughts swirled in his mind. Tomorrow was the graduation ceremony, and while Harsh Will had been their cadre representative, he was not sure what they were doing. Based on the skills needed for just a first year. He had felt he had them prepared. Heck he had, during a moment of gumption, “borrowed” some lessons from the second years. He was learning and teaching his men what to do.
Thirteen ponies who were to be wash outs, given another chance and just last month guaranteed work no matter what under House Strike. How he could afford the costs he did not know but he was not going to question it. He was a smith. Smiths made things. Those things could be sold. And if made well enough, other nobles would pay top dollar for it. he turned around and froze. He saw at the other end of the hall, something, or rather a pony, that should not be there. The first thing he noticed was the old armor. Outdated and not even issued. He tightened the staff he was patrolling with. While those under Sore Wing were not bothering them, other cadets were joining forces to try and force the outcasts out themselves. He had been forced to use bruising force a few times to get the point across. Pensword stepped forward and it seemed something changed. The expression of the stallion who was looking in on his men turned to surprise as the stallion turned to looked at Pensword. Pensword took two more steps towards the intruder as his entire body read to identify themselves or he would attack. He realized something else. This face he had seen it somewhere before. Actually, he had seen the face watching all the cadets train outside, and… he narrowed his eyes. Where else had he seen this face?
“Pegasi these days, they have lost the meaning of honor.” The pegasus sighed. “Where did we go wrong?”
Pensword did not pause. “Who are you?” He growled, keeping his voice low. “This is a restricted area. Leave now and hope the guards do not catch you if you want to keep yourself unharmed. Stay and I will hit you.” He didn’t care at the moment about an old Pegasus wondering about the youth of a race. He had men to protect.
The pegasus looked at him, a little surprised. “You can see me, boy?” he asked.
Pensword looked at the Pegasus sharply. “Why? You think you have an invisibility spell a unicorn friend made you?” Something else was bothering his mind but he could not tell at all what it was. “I will have to confiscate that item.”
“I am dead, boy.” The pegasus told him flatly. “Long before your time.”
Pensword stepped back and it clicked what was wrong. He could see through this pegasus, he could see that while talking there was an erratic sense of movement of breathing. It was strange as he could not hear breathing. He could hear the words but not the breathing needed to produce it. However, he must have surprised the ghost again. “Well, Gramma would be interested to know that kin in her clan can see past the curtain again.” He shook his head. “Cousin Moon Sickle can Dream Stalk, mom can Dream Beyond. I have the See Beyond.” He shook his head in disbelief.
“And to think I once thought that was a simple myth.” The spirit chuckled morosely to himself. “Of all the times I’ve been here this is the first I’ve seen one of your kind here.”
“Well, if some in the command structure have their way, I won’t last all five years.” He huffed, bristling his feathers. “I have feathers, and I look like a Pegasus. Am I not enough to be considered one? I felt more like a Thestral because they accept me as one, even if I have feathers.” He glared. “It is no myth. I have seen the other two, and now I have seen the third. I see you, dead warrior.” he blinked and shifted again to a stance of aggression. “State thy name and rank, Warrior.”
“Storming Hurricane, Commander, Legate, Diplomat.” the ghost answered “and do not judge me for something of which you know nothing.”
“I judge not thee, Commander Hurricane.” Pensword replied in shock as he stepped back in surprise. “I speak of what you see as an anomaly in this camp. I took anger out upon one without thinking. My apologies, Supreme Commander.” A rank that in Equestria was reserved only for war time. The rank being given to Hurricane so if by some unforeseen circumstance he returned, he would become leader under Luna’s level of all Equestrian Military units.
“I did not want this division you know. I pressed for the Thestrals to be united with us, we had so much to learn from one another.” The pegasus told him.
Pensword stepped forward in curiosity. “R-really? You, but the books and stories never mentioned that.” He blinked and laughed. “Well, I guess it doesn’t fit the story of legends.” He shook his head. “I wonder what history would say about Commandante Supreme Sunrise.” He smiled a little as he turned and made another move around the hallway of his post. “Permission to call you Commander, sir?” he asked as he walked back to where he was standing. Only to find the ghost to be following his footsteps in his patrol.
“Call me what you like. What am I to do, court martial you?” The pegasus chuckled. “We are not so different as the powers that be would have everypony believe.” He laughed. “Pegasi and Thestrals, both warriors born and bred.”
“I have noticed that, Commander.” Pensword responded. “Still, I, I have to say I am disappointed by your current descendant, Storming Hurricane the Third.” he muttered in an irritated tone of voice. “He has currently been orchestrating an active first year campaign to see me removed from my post, wishing to lead the troops I already have. I just want to have him learn patience. You might have heard in where you are and all, but this role was put on me by the Commandante. I did not ask for this.”
“Boy it is we who do not ask for our office that fate has decided to force the role on.” He laughed. “Though I wish I had your calm when I was so young.”
Pensword looked at the ghost. “I am terrified about tomorrow. We all pass or we all fail. The only good news is that we have a safety net. Lord Hammer Strike will pay next year already whether we move up or have to repeat again.” He sighed. “I want my ponies to pass.” He paused and looked like he wanted to ask a question. Finally, he did. “What do you mean calm at my age?”
“Surely you have heard tales of the fearsome commander who dipped his hooves in the blood of other ponies in a civil war. The commander whose temper was so foul his subordinates would only go near him if absolutely necessary?” Hurricane asked.
“I have. I also heard of the Commander who put his men first, who was the first to volunteer for what was thought a suicide mission to find new lands during the Wendigo invasion. Who also was part of the charter of unification drafters, and first to sign the charter, as well as the first Commander of Equestria’s Military.”
“You are too kind, boy. I was a tyrant. I was a horrible monster who sought nothing but my own glory. I lost friends and family in my rage. If not for Pansy’s level head, who knows. we might not have been here.” The old pegasus said.
Pensword paused and looked right ahead. “Thou art too harsh on thine own head.” He muttered. “History remembers thee for the good thou hast done. We all have the demons in our heads. Thou didst fight that demon and it seems history has forgiven thee for thine actions. What thou didst later in life helped create a unified nation where no pony could ever do what thou didst do. In a way, thou createdst a means to prevent any others to fall down the hole thou didst and that is admirable.” Pensword paused and gulped as he stiffened, he had spoken to Commander Hurricane as a equal would in rank. He did not know what would happen next.
The pegasus smiled. “And you will do greater still.” The commander said. “Do not let them break you. Never let them win.”
Pensword looked at the ghost, then forward. “I have no plans to let them break me. I will return home and defend it as a place of hope on the border.”
“Go further, child. You have the blood of two warrior races within you. Let them see you represent the best of both our tribes, show them they are wrong!”
Pensword nodded his head and smiled. “Tha-thank you.” He realized that Hurricane knew that he was thinking on even bargaining his own dismissal to have his team move forward. He blinked and he smiled as he turned for a second. When he turned back he realized that he was alone in the hallway. Two minutes later another Pegasus appeared in the doorway and nodded to Pensword.
“I relieve you of guard duty.” The Jasmine Green coat and honey gold mane and tailed Pegasus spoke.
Pensword smiled. “I am relieved, Honey Dew.” he turned and entered the barracks they were living in and bunked down in the bunk they had built themselves. They started with cots but slowly were making it their own place. They had been told this would be their quarters next year as well.
Opening one’s eyes for the first time. Twenty Second August 117 ADF
Hammer Strike found himself leaning over a parchment, a quill in his hoof as he tried to think of anything to add to his current design. This time he wanted to try a halberd. Whilst he had already made a couple and practiced with them he wanted to give it another try with some different methods, and because it had been thirteen years since he last practiced. He had broken the last one due to one of the servants buying incorrect materials.
“Sorry again about the guards. I thought they were ready for fighting a gryphon.” Grif noted as he entered.
“As to be expected, they were not.” Hammer Strike responded. “They practice what they think they know is best, and they are soon afterwards shown wrong.”
“So what are you working on this time?” Grif asked.
“Halberd. It has been awhile since I have last practiced.” He responded, finally looking up towards Grif. “So what brings you here?”
“Didn’t have a lot to do at the moment.” Grif shrugged. “I’ve got enough meat stored away for a while.” He shrugged. “not in the mood for reading at the moment so I thought I’d check on how you were doing. Also, out of curiosity, how goes the Thaumaturgy experimentation?”
“I left the book behind. I should not mess with it at this point in time. Too many ponies would question things.” He responded.
“So you haven’t run into anything that might be related to it?” Grif asked. “I’d figured you’d have looked around for any of those crystallized aspects in the time you had.”
“Stored a couple in the vault. Should not be messed with until I have the book again.” Hammer Strike said, continuing to draw on the parchment. “That is, unless you want to essentially destroy your arm and part of your torso.”
“I’d figured crystallized heat would have made a handy little add on for any weapon you’d make.” Grif noted. “Would it keep the blade red hot?”
“Yes. Saving those plans for the future when we return.” Hammer Strike replied.
“So … How much do you remember exactly?” Grif asked.
Hammer Strike paused in his drawing. He shook his head lightly as he thought. “I do not think I could have recognized you, had Lunar Fang not helped me.” He responded, then turned towards Grif once again. “You are still younger than when we left, perhaps not by much…”
“You remember being Human right?”
“I still have faint memories of it, though the picture Lunar Fang gave me to keep helps me remember.” He responded, reaching into his coat to pull out a small framed object, an old photo from what was both a month ago, and years before.
“Rarity?” Grif asked.
This time his pause was longer before he finally shook his head. “I can not remember her face.” He sighed. “But I can still remember her voice, though only slightly.”
“The Crystal Empire?” Grif asked. “Which I guess we haven’t technically been to yet.”
“Yes, but only for the reason that it is still around.” Hammer responded.
“The invasion of Canterlot?” Grif asked.
“Canterlot…” Hammer Strike muttered. “Canterlot, Canterlot….” He closed his eyes thinking. “I can not.”
“This definitely isn’t good.” Grif said. “What’s the point in remembering if you can’t remember anything?”
“Perhaps one day I will remember everything, but it will return in short pops I shall hope.” He gave a small smile. “At least you, Pensword, and Lunar Fang will be able to help me remember.”
“You're never going to do that again, I hope.” Grif said.
“Should it be that you are sent long into the stream of time and it was either this, or you are lost, to never remember, I would do it again.” Hammer Strike said. “I may have forgotten some things, but you are still the reason I came back and did it.”
“And then there’d be nothing left for us when we got back.” Grif noted. “There has to have been a better way. Find it next time.”
“I asked the Doctor.” Hammer replied. “Other methods are possible, but have more hazards to them.”
“Do I even want to know?”
“One of the light hazards was that I remember nothing and you never remember a thing either.’ Hammer responded.
“What about having it all stored in a memory spell?” Grif asked.
“That one would have the problem of me not knowing why I was there, or what to do.” He responded.
“So you end up with some permanent damage and we all walk away? That was the only answer?”
“For once, I could not find something better.” Hammer Strike replied. “It was either this or leave you in the past to never remember.” He said, his tone raising slightly before he took a breath and calmed himself.
“If it meant you’d be ok I’d have gladly stayed.” Grif sighed. “But I suppose that logic goes both ways huh?”
Hammer Strike nodded. “At least I can remember some things, but I still need a reminder here and there.”
“I don’t want to sound ungrateful.” Grif spoke. “I’m thankful for everything you did. I just wish you didn’t need to do that to yourself to do it.”
“Had there been a way.” He said in response.
“i just hope we can work through this.” Grif said. “We need Shawn as much as we need Hammer Strike after all.”
Remembering and Forgetting the past, December Fifteenth, 124 ADF
Pensword and his ponies stood in the parade ground. He could hardly hide his amazement of being there. Of the last three years, this was the first time he had been allowed to be part of the ceremony.
He stood with his men. All had been finished save for one last test. One that had been a surprise to all present. It was already being called “The No Win.”
He waited for Supreme Sunrise to speak to his men and start the test. He looked to his men and already his first suggestion of taking a hit for them to advance had been shot down. So they were all standing, waiting patiently for the test to begin.
“Are you all ready?” She asked looking around the group.
“Yes Ma’am” Came the united thunder of voices as they stood waiting patiently.
“The situation is being handed to each of your squad leaders on paper, but I will be going over it so everypony knows it.” Supreme Sunrise spoke. “You and your squad have been assigned to take a four hundred thunderbolt payload storm cloud into the heart of enemy territory and detonate it. The only path to escort it there undetected takes you through the heart of a neutral party’s territory and the border runs closely to where you are supposed to drop this payload. Meaning if you are caught it will be considered a provocation and an act of war. Due to the payload of this cloud, activating it directly will result in instant electrocution and death. However, en route all your talismans are damaged. You have two enemy troops flanking you from the north and south as well as a heavy defense ahead and neutral military patrols directly leading past your route. This test is simple. You must get the payload to the target and detonate it. Your return is not priority in this mission. Equestria cannot afford to be at war with another nation at this time so being caught is not an option. You have one hour.” With that the Commandante left them and sat at a desk at the far end of the room.
Pensword looked at his ponies, while it was different than the others, it was still a tough decision. “Okay, priority one is that cloud’s delivery.” He looked at his men. “Thoughts on how to get it to the target area? I want ideas.” he commanded as he looked at the paper. He was already thinking on how to activate it safely. “Thunder Colt, you worked with your father. Any other ways to activate a cloud like this without use of talismans?” He looked to some of the others. “Glamour Horn, your mother was a magician, any way of… covering our tracks so to speak? Better yet, your stories about your brother, any way of making some documents look official for any patrols?”
“Give me ten minutes and I can have lightning damaged papers authorizing a cloud movement.” He muttered. “Would buy us time with a small patrol, but not if we keep bumping into them. It can work twice at max.”
Pensword nodded. “Get to it.” He returned to Thunder Colt. “Well, ideas? I rather not leave a soldier behind to activate it on their own.”
“Well, We have straw and materials that could create a dummy pony. We coul place it on the cloud and have the enemy activate the cloud themselves with their attacks?”
Pensword slowly nodded his head. “Right, I want you to take some clouds from the sky and create secondary platforms.” he turned his head. “Magic Swirl. Can you do a cloud walking spell? I know it is a new spell from the papers, but can you cast it?”
“I can try.” Magic Swirl replied confused before smiling. “Oh… with that spell we all ride the clouds and keep mobility. With the nation mostly land based they will think the clouds are a natural moving ones that crossed from our weather teams.”
Pensword nodded with a smile. “Yes, the documents will be a back up if they manage to get airborne.” He sighed and shook his head as he looked to the rest of team. “Am I missing anything at all?”
Blue Vase looked at the map. “The enemy. When it goes off, they will swarm on both sides and we cannot go back the way we came. The neutral party will be blocking our path out.”
Pensword looked at the ground. “Right, and the enemy is smart. Highly trained. We go by hoof and cause mayhem along the border. The cloud goes off and we use the fireworks to bunker down into a part of the border and hold out there, live off the land.”
“Sir, that is not in the manual.” Another pony, an Earth Pony, responded as he looked to Apple Core. “Help me out, we wouldn’t last out there.”
Apple Core only smiled. “Whistle Clean, Pensword grew up camping on the wilds almost weekly. I think he could keep us all safe.” Once again, his thick country accent shone through and through.
“Final fifteen minutes.” Supreme Sunrise called to the groups. “As you plant the cloud you find you have been found out by an enemy scout, the alarm has been raised and the enemy is swarming to you.”
Pensword looked to his men and what followed was a barely audible debate between them. The din between all the groups in the room was so great that Supreme Sunrise could not even tell what the groups were planning. Fifteen minutes went by fast, and the groups were quickly silenced by the banging of a gavel that the Commandante had acquired somewhere.
She looked at the four squads. “Very well. The order of answers will be Squad Leaders Hurricane, Hissy Fit, Javelin Thrust, and finally Pensword. Hurricane, what would you would do?”
“The answer seemed pretty simple.” The Squad Leader spoke. “The unicorn stays back to shield the cloud while the earth pony’s provide fire support. The pegasi retreat to the air and make sure of detonation before returning home to debrief.” Hurricane said pleased with himself.
“A sound strategy.” Supreme Sunrise nodded. She turned to Hissy Fit.
“I would be falling back while I leave Fallen Leaf to activate the cloud on his own. We cause massive damage and take out the enemy that swarms the cloud. If he falls the cloud goes off, they swarm the cloud, it goes off. Those that return home debrief and lead the next parties into the enemy lands after bribing the neutral nation to let passage occur.”
“Hmm…” Supreme Sunrise said nothing, turning to Javelin Thrust.
“We bring the cloud in form the sky, ma'am. The earth pony and unicorn troops serve as recon while we bring the cloud down to range without entering arrow range and then private dive bomb activates the cloud when the rest have retreated to minimum safe distance.” Javelin Thrust said.
Supreme Sunrise didn’t respond this time as her eyes and pretty much every set in the room turned to Pensword.
“We, as a team, have taken a vote. After bringing the cloud to the destination,” He looked at his ponies. “As well as realizing that as akin to most military stories from the past, we find the enemies have more numbers then we may have anticipated. We all stay and fight. Make as much of a ruckus as we can, and then as a team, activate the cloud, as we have used secondary clouds to make fast transport possible using cloud walking spells the extra clouds will act as a booster to the main cloud and enlarge the area of effect. We went in as a team. We fight as a team. We shall die as a team.”
Supreme Sunrise let nothing show as she nodded. “All viable strategies if a few are either tribalist or short sighted.” She said “Hurricane: half marks. Your strategy accomplished the goal but it showed true cowardice in leaving your earth pony and unicorn brothers to die while you escaped, that’s not harmony and harmony is what Equestria stands for.” Hurricane was dumbfounded by the Commandante’s remarks.
“Hissy Fit: fail. Not only do you leave the one objective possibly unfinished. You make capture of the cloud, and possibly fallen leaf into enemy hands possible. You did not anticipate for how the enemy would react and you misused your resources.”
HIssy Fit blinked and looked like she was about to do something. She even opened her mouth, before she pouted and glared at the table in front of her. Unsure of what to do, confident that she would at least move on to the next year with this over her head. However the Commandante saw something. Gears that were stuck were slowing turning or had jerked forward to a new line of thinking. She allowed herself a brief smile before turning to Javelin.
“Javelin Thrust you will be repeating both military history of Equestria and basic history of Equestria 101 until you learn what the unification meant.” The pegasus mare stomped. “Your answer was tribalist, selfish, and terribly underthought. You refused to use viable resources, alienated members of your team, and sacrificed a member to accomplish the plan by himself. I have half a mind to send you home right now. You are dismissed from this testing chamber.” Javelin Thrust was marched out of the room in shame.
“Now for you, Pensword. You sacrificed every life on your team to make sure you completed your objective. More so, your team chose to be there when the objective was completed rather than leave you or another member behind to die. You went down fighting in true Equestria spirit using your wings to their fullest assisted by an earth pony on one side and a unicorn on the other. You covered all the bases and when death became the answer, you accepted it with honor. You and your squad have given an answer reflecting the spirit of our country and truly what I believe our founders dreamed of. Your squad passes with full marks. Congratulations, Pensword. If I may see you in the hall for a moment.” She stood tall and steadily left the room.
Pensword looked to his men. “Fall out and attend to the mess for evening meal, I shall join you as soon as I can. You deserve it.” He replied as he slowly exited the room and entered the hallway that Supreme Sunrise was waiting in. He nodded to her as he stood at an informal stance. “You wished to see me?” he asked, curious on what she was going to say.
“It has recently come to my attention that Lord Hammer Strike has taken a further interest in your current squad. I have been sending him reports from Harsh Will as well as my own observations, and he has extended an offer to include the entire squad in his payroll presuming that it remain whole. As squad leader it is important I know your thoughts on this.”
Pensword blinked and he looked at her. “Only if you can guarantee our graduation as a squad due to our passing the courses if his house bankrupts.” he admitted, showing he was pragmatic. “If you can do that, I will accept that for the entire squad.” he muttered as he looked at the Commandante. “It will surprise all thirteen of us.”
“I can guarantee you will have the opportunity.” Supreme Sunrise said. “Princess Celestia was informed of the current issue a month prior and she has decided that the current system will remain until you either graduate or leave the academy. You will continue to learn and act as a squad under Harsh Will.”
Pensword saluted. “As you command, ma’am.” Pensword replied with a look of pride at the thought of being with his men longer. “We shall show that we will overcome anything.”
“I have no doubt of that private. Show more work like that and who knows, Equestria may have another Commander someday.” She smiled. “I’m giving you and your squad extra free time tonight, use it as you will. I must return to paperwork. Dismissed,” the Commandante said with a wing salute. Pensword noticed the tips of her feathers beginning to grey.
Pensword returned the salute. “Of course, ma’am. We might use the time to finish some of our lockers so we can use our personal gear next year.” He smiled. What surprised him was how well his and the other cadets gear were holding up in his hiding spot.
“Good luck, Pensword.” Supreme Sunrise grinned to herself as she turned and headed towards her office.
The Final Test of First Years Twenty Third August 117 ADF
Hammer Strike was sitting in his office, documents littered his table, and at the moment he was reading a report from Harsh Will. He had already finished reading the report from Supreme Sunrise.
He was muttering the lines as he read over them, thinking them through as he continued.
“You seem deep in thought.” Grif noted as he entered the room carrying a tray. “The cook asked me to bring this down.”
Hammer Strike stopped reading as he looked up before looking at the clock. “Yeah.” He said, shaking his head lightly. “Pensword is due to complete any day now.”
“Mountainside Falls, his graduation, his formal meeting with you, our ‘first meeting’, Luna’s return from her tour, and then the war. It’s going to be a terrific next couple months isn’t it?”
“Going to be an interesting year more like it.” Hammer Strike said.
“Well we’ve done all we can to prepare, I guess.” Grif sighed. “Sometimes I just wish I was home playing Left 4 Dead.”
Hammer Strike paused and raised a brow in question before he shook his head. “Game, right.” He continued reading the document. “Whole squad is going to stick together.”
“Well at least they won’t need to get to know each other.” Grif shrugged. “How many are they at now?”
“Thirteen it seems.” He said, his eyes still scanning the document.
“That’s Matthew alright, always making friends.” Grif laughed.
Hammer Strike chuckled in response as he finished the document. “Time is almost upon us.” He said. “A few months at most.”
“Let’s agree when we get back, we’re taking a vacation.” Grif said. “I think we deserve it.”
“I would give it a day or two at most before something finds us.” Hammer chuckled. “It always seems to be that way.”
“I guess that’s right.” Grif said. “At least whenever we’re all together.”
“I would rather not have it any other way.” Hammer Strike commented with a small smile.
“You waited thirty six years for me. I guess I can’t begrudge you that.” The gryphon smiled. He set the tray down. “Eat something. I don’t know where you found that cook, but I wouldn’t want to be the one to tell him something went to waste.”
Hammer Strike chuckled. “I shall eat when I do not have documents and letters in front of me.”
January Thirty Second 125 ADF
Pensword looked to his squad. Over the last four years as a squad they had become some of the most trained cadets, at least Pensword and Blue Vase thought. While Blue Vase was a medical emphasis she had become second in command of their squad of Fifteen cadets. Pensword smiled as he looked at his friends, his fellow ponies. “Now, thanks to some hints given by Sore Wing before his transfer orders came through, we know that the survival course is five lanes. Also, as you know, the officer that replaced Sore Wing is from the Unity Cadet HQ, and she has been keen on having me washed out due to the law of no Thestrals in the military. So we must assume we will be given the middle route.”
Blue Vase nodded as she looked around the room and to the shut door. “As mentioned from Sore Wing’s letter that was tucked into our laundry, the middle route is between Gryphon Army A and B. It is the heaviest patrolled. Also, there is talk of a new rule. If a squad has all their members captured, the leader for the squad will be expelled with dishonorable discharge.” She looked to the table. “This is a rule that has not been seen in this camp. Problem is that thanks to Glamor Hooves’ digging, the orders come from House Pansy and that Supreme Sunrise is trying to get it rescinded. Problem is that the test is still being pushed forward. We will be the only year operating under this rule. It is believed in the cadet rumor mill that its sole purpose is to make Pensword forever black balled from ever getting near Unity, and as reason to have his town fully purged of the Thestrals, a process that was started under Usurper Baron Heavy Hooves after his takeover last year of his brother’s lands.”
The fifteen ponies around the table all looked at each other. Glamour Horn shook his head. “Yeah, not to mention the current warrant for the imprisonment of Pensword should he ever step hoof back into his home town for reading those books on tactics.”
A pegasus of yellow cream color looked at them. “At least House Strike is keeping Pensword’s family out of debtor’s prison.”
“That they are, Fox Feather.” Apple Core muttered, having been talkative with the others. “Though it is by sheer bribery that it is being kept safe.” He looked to Pensword. “Squad Leader, what are you going to do?”
Pensword smiled grimly. “Well, as the letter stated, A and B armies hate each other. Honor dictates that they try to show they are the better army. The goal tomorrow is to, if the cards are stacked against us, pull the troops from the other lanes. We go down, we cause a massive inner force fighting.” He grinned as he pulled a scroll from between his chest plate and fur. “Operation Cougar Strike is a go.” He looked at his squad. “We use wild animal-like attacks to take out the soldiers. We steal their logos, and plant them on other patrols. Meaning,”
“Meaning,” A Pegasus who was blue colored with a Red mane and tail interrupted. “They think the other squads are using this time of hunting for a scattered pony regiment to attack them.”
“Exactly, Blue Fire. As the rage builds, or pretend rage. IF they do catch a pony mark, it will be brushed off as a planted evidence.”
The fifteen squads looked at each other. “Has this tactic worked?”
“Nay,” Fox Feather replied. “All squads before have taken to saving as many lives as needed.” She smiled. “Since we are always slated to lose and the officers want to see how they can clean up our act, let’s just show what a left behind unit can do to the enemy.”
Pensword looked intently at his unit. “Lights out. I shall destroy our maps and plans. Rest now. We sleep early, all the others are already scrambling to form units. We shall arrive tomorrow, ready.”
The Next Day
Major Tepid Water looked over the cadets carefully. She held her light blue face high, nose in the air as she inspected the cadets for the exercise. The pegasus was meticulous to the point of it being a compulsion. There were rumors she had been assigned this position as a punishment when she crossed the wrong noble’s son simply because he had a stitch out of line on his uniform. She examined their gear, their uniforms, their stances, even the positioning of wings and horns could be needlessly scrutinized. Stopping before Pensword she gave an unpleasantly demeaning grin. “Well, cadet, would you mind explaining why your squad’s gear is in such poor condition?” She asked in a sickeningly sweet tone.
Pensword did not bat an eye. “These are the equipment issued to us by Cadet Command. Seeing as we come from less noble families these items are left overs from the second Gryphon War. They are in working order, and under Regulations of Cadet Scroll three, within regulations for training exercises. They will also be turned in to the Chief Supply Officer for the issument of our survival gear for todays test, Major Tepid Water.” He replied, brisk, to the point, and showing his knowledge of regulations.
“Very well.” She said. “Cadet Command has decided that you will be given a tiny boost. A higher scoring cadet is being assigned to pull the exercise with you under your command. Understood?”
Pensword looked right ahead. “I understand, Major Tepid Water. Any other orders from Cadet Command before the start of the mission?”
“Have you been made aware of the risks regarding this exercise? This is your last chance, cadet.” She smiled. “As you know, you won’t be getting another year.”
Pensword did not say a word, not rising to the bait of the challenge, nor was he going to be cocky and state that he was going to pass. He still could and would graduate if his squad made it. All they had to do was survive and see their plan put into action.
“Traditionally the exercise is extraction by twenty four hours, but Commandante Supreme Sunrise has decided to extend the time limit for all squads to fifty hours. You must be at extraction at fifty hours, not a minute later. Your score will of course depend on several aspects you have already been informed of. Is your squad prepared, cadet?”
“We are prepared. We only await our Sixteenth Squad member and we shall be ready for teleportation to our starting point.” He did not salute as they were outside and this was technically a war situation that they were operating in. Saluting now would only risk life of the leader.
A familiar light blue pegasus approached them clad in training gear. His silver mane and tail marking him easily in Pensword’s mind. “And here he is now.” Tepid Water said.
“Cadet Hurricane.” Pensword replied with a slight nod of his head. “I am surprised of your change of squads, but I welcome you to our team.” He was being very diplomatic and showing calm in front of his troops. “I hope you are ready for some of our, how did you call it. Surprise thinking?” It was not a dig at all, but rather a remark returning to his own remark earlier that year.
“Lets just get this over with.” The cadet said as he approached the group, he eyed Tepid Water suspiciously as he passed.
Pensword did not really respond to Hurricane before he turned to Tepid Water. “Very well. Ready for exchanging of items.” He looked to his squad before returning to Tepid Water. He did not know why, but something was unnerving him.
“As you know, the pretense of this exercise is that you must keep these.” Tepid Water handed him two scrolls. “Out of gryphon hands.”
Pensword took the scrolls into his hooves. “Understood, Major Tepid Water, consider that a done course of action. These scrolls shall not be read by Gryphon Eyes.”
“Everything else will be at the starting point.” She said. “When you are ready.”
Pensword finally nodded, hoping that this was not a problem. “Very well,” he turned to his group. “Disarm and remove your gear.” he called out as he saw the Quartermaster trotting over to them with a smile and an empty sled. He turned back to Major Tepid Water as he removed his own gear. He had already hidden his bear eyetooth from being confiscated before the test. He stood without armor or gear like the rest of his ponies. Even Hurricane was without anything. All gear would be provided at the starting point. Even theirs, as Supreme Sunrise stated, so as to keep all squads on the same level of fairness.
“Quartermaster.” Tepid Water spoke. “You may proceed.” And with that the nearby unicorn’s horn lit up and the world vanished in white light before returning.
The group of Sixteen ponies looked about their surroundings and the meadow that was to be their starting point. Pensword’s eyes immediately began to look for their gear that they would need, from armor to the fake weapons with little pads that would put chalk on the enemy to help note where a weapon had struck and if death would have occurred from the blow.
Their crates revealed a few useful things: fire making kits, rope, a small knife. But many other things were missing, including apparently, rations. Pensword looked and turned only to find the Quartermaster already gone from the field. Pensword turned to Cadet Hurricane. “I am in charge.” He grumbled as he moved to the crates. “We got armor, some sort of modified knife, but only one. We have a rope. Still.. we are going to have to improvise.”
He looked to his left. “Yes, Cadet Hurricane? You wish to say something?” He could tell that Hurricane wanted to say something very badly. “Yes we do know we are missing supplies, we are missing food, and that as long as we are in this meadow we have a safety window. We are going to plan. So, please, if you have something to add other than how we are messed over, I would like to hear it.”
Hurricane looked at him. “It is not about you this time.” Hurricane said. “You do not get why I am here, do you? I overheard Tepid Water talking with another pony, she is a pegasus supremacist. This whole exercise is being made to show the folly of having unicorn or earth pony soldiers.”
“What?” Applecore muttered. “Are, but Unicorns have always been long range weapon spell users.” He shook his head. He looked at the Squad leader. Pensword only looked at Apple Core and ignored Cadet Hurricane at the moment as he thought things over before he looked over to their new addition.
“Platoon Leader Hurricane, What else do you know? Is this why you are here? To help this mission?” He out right paused and shook his mane. “No, that wouldn’t be it, why are you with us?” He smirked a little. “After all wouldn’t this be to your advantage?”
“Because if I go back to Unity now then Princess Celestia won’t hesitate to take my word, but if I fail I am disgraced. If I am disgraced, my word means nothing to the noble.” Hurricane said. “When we lose, I lose my word.”
Pensword smiled faintly. “Follow my lead, follow my orders and we shall force a tie minimum.” He muttered before looking to the sky. “Anything you can inform us of what is against us, Hurricane?” He turned to another cadet. “Fox Feather, I want you sneaking around the border to find a means out of here, I got a feeling that Major Tepid Water is in charge of this route. We have to be more cunning than she thinks we can be.” He smiled as he tucked the scrolls into the provided armor.
“Sixth year troops, likely a few who trained in gryphon combat tactics. They will attack from the air predominantly.” Hurricane noted.
“Right, now, we just have to lure one of them…” he jerked his head up as three pegasus sixth years dove for them with anger. Pensword jumped back and hit one with the knife right between the eyes causing a bruise and then Applecore took the blade and weapon that had been dropped by the stunned sixth year and used it to attack the other sixth year. The third tried to flee before the rope was lassoed around him by Blue Vase.
Pensword smiled. “Take the knife and mark them like wolf claw marks. Tear the emblems from their uniforms and take their weapons.” he looked to Hurricane. “Seems to me that we were ambushed. Somepony leaked our starting point to the sixth years.” he sighed and heard the ripping of fabric. Pensword looked right at the opposition forces. “Tell those who gather the dead that you were killed by a wolf pack, yeah I know thou wilt not be believed but the marks will show that. The army will not act upon the death of three hot head recruits being killed by wild animals.” he smirked as he walked to the meadow. “We have been compromised, we find a cave, and…” he paused as he saw a sixth year moving something. “Apple Core take all documents as well from them. I don’t care if it is a poem written in boredom. They will be taken from the dead.” Pensword looked up as the second flare fired. Showing take down of troops, it also had the flare for the safe zone being left falling, yet he did not remember hearing the whistle of the flare. Still, there it was falling. He knew things were irregular, but to stay and fight the rule would result in forfeit.
“Gryphons attack fast and hard. It is likely there will be several more coming. we should head for the undergrowth.” Hurricane suggested.
The group all nodded as Pensword looked to the sky. “Ruined our planning.” he nodded his head. “Cougar Strike is a go.” he ordered as they moved out quickly, already having gained a few more items than they started with. He pulled up with Hurricane.
“Okay,” Once they were out of hearing of the sixth years. “Now with this as it showed us, I am going to assume that the extraction point is rigged as well. Also their map was smaller than us. meaning we were set up for failure already from moving out the moment we left the meadow. Us triggering the ambush earlier was lucky for us. It also means that the Sixth years will know our tactics.” He sighed. “But they will be forced to follow their SOPs, marks of wild animals can be left by leaders to teach even Opposition forces not to be reckless. They won’t act on us.” he was trying to sound confident. He fell silent to let Hurricane respond as they walked, or rather trotted, towards the cave. He looked to a Unicorn mare in the back. “Animal Control, can you use that magic to create a bear? With the sound effects as well? I want a magic glamour over us GH,” he ordered Glamor Horn as they continued to march. “We can use magic that the squad knows and thank goodness they did not restrict that any more. Most cadets learn battle magic, I am using the flare and skills of my squad.” he told Hurricane.
“There is only one way to pass at this point, Pensword: the Midnight Objective.” Hurricane said.
Pensword smiled. “Oh? Care to explain Midnight Objective?” He kept his face away from him as he smiled a little. “That is the last objective, or rather, it is the hardest one to obtain, and no cadet has given serious thought to it.”
“Take a gryphon base and hold it.” Hurricane answered.
Pensword smiled. “Well then, I guess welcome to Operation Cougar, only it was that we were going to cause a war between army A and B and let them duke it out while we wait on the ground.” he paused. “However, holding a fort, even a small one, would give our survival a better shot. We have a map and now we know where to go.” They were getting close to the cave where they could hear the roar of a bear and the screams of Sixth year cadets before the screaming turned into swearing.
Pensword smiled. “Seems we found a small Sixth year camp. We can scrounge supplies and rations from them.” he looked to Hurricane, I hope you do not find it ill to your senses that I am using Thestral tactics here.”
Pensword looked to Hurricane. As they walked into the camp and the cadets marked with chalk in the means of a bear attack. “Why the change, Hurricane?” he asked suddenly as a crate was being used as a table and more items taken to be used. “You have been hostile to me in the past, to my own squad mates, and now… you are helping me. Why? Why are you changing your tune now?”
“What would my great, great, great grandfather have wanted? Me to let his dream die over a stupid personal dispute or put it aside to preserve the country the way he wanted it?” Hurricane asked.
Pensword raised an eyebrow. “Very well, come this way. But if you try to backstab me, I will have Lord Hammer Strike deal with you.” He left the threat in the air to show he was trusting him on this.
A Sixth year cadet walked into the main area where Supreme Sunrise was looking over her three routes. “Oh, yes?” she asked, looking up and pausing at seeing three others behind her in ripped uniforms. Some faded chalk marks that looked like claw marks and indications of possible dismemberment. “Report.” She spoke to the first one, ignoring the other three as they were dead.
“Wolf Pack attack. We lost three scouts and their gear appears to be stolen. With some of the marks we found this.” He tossed a torn patch of Army B on her desk. “The wolf attack might not be real.” His expression fell. “I think it was those outcasts. They are taking this way too seriously and making too complicated tricks.”
“Too seriously? They are on the middle path, they’re treating this exercise like war, which is the point of a battlefield exercise.” Supreme Sunrise reminded him. “How are the other teams doing?”
“They attacked us in a cave. I thought our camps were off limits. They stole our ration packs and even the maps. They kept us from their meeting but they are planning something, Ma’am. They also stole our Army A patches.” He paused and laughed. “However, they were planning to zig into Army B’s operation zone, and as you know, Major Tepid Water is in charge there… they won’t last a minute.” He smirked a little.
“The bases off limits?” Supreme Sunrise replied. “Whoever said that?”
“Camp.” The cadet replied. “It was a camp, not a base. Where Sixth years can rest, keep our gear. They are supposed to be untouchable.”
The other cadet who was not eaten spoke up. “They are, if they are outside of the route areas. Was it outside of the range?”
The sheepish look was enough to show that they had set up a camp within the route boundaries. They looked up when the Commandante cleared her throat.
“What confuses me is that they are harvesting ration packs. They should have had enough food for the entire exercise.” She said
Another of the bear victims spoke up. “Uh, I noticed something strange. They also stole our pouches as well, and they appeared to only have their armor and one knife among them that was not marked as Sixth year gear. I thought they might have just been hiding it outside but they took our weapons and more documents and a map as well. We, uh had a real map and not a fake one with us.” He looked to the Commandante. “Were you in charge of supply today, Ma’am?”
“No. Tepid Water was.” Supreme Sunrise noted.
The only “Alive” Cadet blinked. “That might explain it. You have seen her views on Pensword’s mixed blood. Could she have sabotaged them? If so, is that grounds of a spoiled test and a redo at a later time?”
Supreme Sunrise considered the evidence carefully, taking some time before a sly grin grew across her muzzle. “Cadet, wouldn’t you say these patches prove camp B attacked us?”
“Well,” The cadet replied seeing the look. “We might need a little more evidence, but it looks like there are some tensions along the edges of who is in charge of what areas.” He slowly blinked, a smile coming to his muzzle as realization hit. “Shall we prepare a letter to warn them off this area?”
“Let it be known that army B has broken the current agreed upon ceasefire. As of now, other gryphons are to be counted along with your list of targets. Show no mercy. Give them no warning. This is war, cadet.” Her grin widened as her mane went from it’s normal regulation style to a fluffy curly mess resembling some kind of yellow fluff ball. “It’s time for a surprise.”
The Cadets all looked at each other, very worried over what they just saw. Before the only “alive” cadet saluted Supreme Sunrise. “As you command, Flight Leader.”
A sixth year knocked on the door with worry and gulped as he held the scroll in his hooves for Tepid Water to read. He shuffled a little, waiting for the words to enter. He looked back at the stats. Pensword’s squad appeared to have used a wild animal faint to steal intel and supplies. Also there was an unconfirmed report that cadets of Army B were not returning from their patrols. He did not know what was happening at the moment. He gulped and knocked again a little louder.
“Enter.” Tepid Water spoke, her tone was hard to read.
The cadet gulped again and pushed the door open, walked to the desk, and placed the scroll onto said desk. Then he stepped back and saluted. “Status Report on the routes. All other routes have only Pegasi remaining, as you commanded. However, a problem is developing in Route Three it seems. Further details in the report.”
Tepid Water opened the report and read it over. “We are being attacked by army A now?” She asked.
“Rumors seem to point to that Ma’am. Appears that one of the facts of the back story is being used against us. Also, we have lost three cadets to animal chalk attacks. It appears that the Thestral Bat Bird is also making it hard on us. What are your orders, commander?”
“Warn everypony still out there. We need to go on the defensive for now and have more guards around the base.” She ordered.
“As you command.” The Cadet saluted and turned away as he raced out the door, wings already twitching to move out and save what he could. Already, Tepid looked at the maps and was deciding to call all the troops from her other routes to this one. It would do well to crush this attack while actively searching for Pensword. If she could wipe that squad out, she would win back in Unity. She chuckled darkly.
Pensword paused as they hid under some trees. they saw a lot more pegasi flying off towards the other side of the route. Pensword smirked. “Seems like the two armies are going to battle each other over pride and honor.” Pensword looked to Compass Rose, a Pegasus with parchment colored coat and yellow mane and tail. “How goes the direction towards one of the smaller outposts? I hope we get there soon. We have been here for about twelve hours and we may need rest soon.”
“We have been leaving several false trails. By the time they find us we’ll be right on top of them.” Compass Rose explained.
Pensword smiled. He looked to his friends who could fly. “Now, We have to plan out the next attack. Be careful and storm the coming outpost. It might not be much, but it should give us a leg up in moving to a higher base.” He looked to Hurricane. “I am trusting you with all our flight capable squad members to take the walls and open the gates for me to lead the others into the outpost. Is that understood?” he asked one final time as they paused before moving to the edge of their cover.
Hurricane nodded. “Take your enemy apart one step at a time, right?” He asked.
Pensword nodded and smiled. “Exactly. We get a hoof hold with an open gate, we get what we want.” He looked around. “We go silent signals now.” he spoke before using a wing to indicate them to move towards the outpost where they settled into some bushes to observe, Find weaknesses, blind spots, and any guards that might be there.
Hurricane nodded, and gathering the pegasi, took off. They scouted from a cloud and blinked as they looked at each other. They saw the outpost. They could see the walls and the guard towers. What they did not see were Pegasi playing Gryphons. Compass Rose looked to Hurricane. “Shall I drop into the outpost and secure a tower corner for us?”
“Keep your guard up. Something smells fishy,” he said, nodding.
“As you command.” Compass Rose replied with a nod before she dropped from the cloud acting in a free fall before she spread her wings and landed a little hard on the outpost south east corner. She poked her head down the hole in the roof and dropped inside of the tower a second later she poked her head up and waved a spear from the hole. Indicating that it was clear. Hurricane looked to the other two. “We each take a corner now. We will risk a confrontation.” He dropped towards the North East while the others went to the other towers. Two minutes later they dropped from the walls and into the courtyard. What worried them was the gates were unbolted as Compass Rose was working to open the gate leading to Pensword’s group.
In the next five minutes the courtyard saw a squad of sixteen ponies preparing for a charge after bolting all the gates. With final nods to each other they quickly moved as a team, clearing each room and guarding each other’s back until they reached what had to be the main offices where they finally met resistance: three Gryphons (Ponies in reality). However, due to how high strung they were, the three were taken down with only a glancing blow hitting Pensword. Still it was almost laughable with what speed it happened. With a look at each other they looked to the door and were about to open it when it burst open on its own as little bits of colored dust floated into the hallway while a mare’s voice yelled out. “SURPRISE!”
The Commandante stood before them. Her uniform was dirty and torn in at least one place and her mane was a curly mess. “Looks like you’ve taken outpost A, Pensword. You know what that means.”
Pensword blinked and turned to Compass Rose. “Map.” He snapped. He was given the map and looked at the map and the marking. “Impossible. This was a supply outpost on the map.” he paused and looked up. “Unless you moved your HQ here… and..” He turned around. “Seal the doors and create a choke point in the hallways.” he turned to the Commandante. “We have to hold this outpost for an hour.” He paused and looked at the Commandante a little funny. “Unless there is another rule I do not know about concerning this part of the Midnight Directive.” He spoke and smiled. “However, we do have a POW it seems.” He looked to Hurricane. “Looks like we did make history, just not in the way Major Tepid Water was hoping.”
“I’d suggest checking the armory for better gear, but you were already going to order that, weren't you?” She smiled.
Pensword only nodded with a smirk. “Grab the armory, retrofit the armor to pony use as best as you can. Also bring out the heavy weapons of the Gryphons.” he replied as he turned to look down the hallways. We hold them off towards the front with at least two fall back points.” he looked to Hurricane. “I want you to keep watch from one of the windows for any returning patrols.” Hurrican saluted and left while Pensword turned and looked to his injured friend and Blue Vase. “Both of you secure the Flight Leader and hold her in the office. Tied to the chair if possible.” He got two more salutes. He looked down the hallway. “Time to defend.”
Pensword looked nervously to his left towards Hurricane. “Time?” he asked his friend. They were in better armor, had better weapons, and he even had a replica Gryphon Great Bow as the ponies called it. He did not know how or when the attack would come, but the main doors and windows were shut and locked. They would know if anypony was going to get in. It was the waiting game and he was wanting to know how much longer till the hour was up.
“Judging by the sun it is around five.” Hurricane noted. “This would be easier if we had been given that sundial.”
Pensword sighed. “How long have we held the Outpost? Also, have one of the squad members found a timer for us to use?” He knew he had been at least ten minutes into their capture. So far no word had been conveyed yet that the outpost was in enemy hooves so they only had to worry about small patrols.
“Roughly fifteen minutes since we opened the doors.” Hurricane said. “We have to hope they do not realise the switch of bases until it is too late.”
Pensword noded. “Right. I shall take the next watch for the next ten minutes.” he looked to the ceiling. “May Faust protect our ruse till it is too late.” He moved to the third floor where a room had been turned into a place to watch the outside. So far there had been no signs of the enemy armies. He would watch now for ten minutes while others moved to the hallway to defend. Each Pony knew of routes to fall back to all the way to the Flight Leader’s office.
Pensword looked as Compass Rose came back after Hurricane went to take her place, the entire time they had waited they were adding more items to hide behind as well as traps of chalk to hopefully harm the enemy if they did happen to breach the front doors. Still, he looked at the time piece next to him. “Half hour.” he muttered. “Stay on your toes, we cannot let up now.”
“Sir, gryphons sighted from our southern position.” Animal Control came into the room. “Looks like they found us, sir.”
Pensword nodded as he rang a triangle bell to bring the other squad members to their posts and to pull away from the windows. They didn’t know how much time they had, nor did they know how well the doors would hold up to an assault with them barricaded. They would now wait out the siege.
The gryphons of army B landed on the guard towers ten minutes later. They looked tired and sore. The first group was disabled within a few moments by Applecore and Blue Vase. Needless to say, the sounds of the chaos and shouting of the “dead” was music to the ears of those inside the outpost. However, they could hear more flapping. It seemed Army B had won over Army A and was planning an assault on the HQ.
Pensword was looking from one of his sentry points. He looked at the hourglass next to him. It was only twenty minutes to go when they all heard it: the thud of a battering ram. He did not know how, but the last guard tower that had not been over run had all the doors and windows shut tight. He smirked a little. Seems Apple Core and Blue Vase were still alive and kicking. It was now he could see more of Army B flying in to capture and resupply. His blood ran cold as he saw who was in the middle of this new wave. Tepid Water had landed and looking over the battering ram she blinked in shock at what she was seeing.
“That’s right. The Midnight Objective is in effect and your time is almost out.” Pensword whispered to himself as he smirked, crawling back away from the window. He sealed the door behind him, knowing if that window was breached flour would splatter any gryphon at the window. They were having to use flour now as their chalk supplies had run out. He moved to his new position and looked at the timer. “Eighteen Minutes to go.” Pensword whispered to Compass Rose next to him. At Seventeen minutes the doors were breached and the pegasi charged. Right into a chalk and flour mess. He did not poke his head up, but he was hearing a lot of angry words.
“Ignore the tower. They are trapped in there. We have to retake the main office. Focus on the hallways.” Tepid Water’s voice called from outside as this time Army B was slowly creeping into the corridors and trying to find the traps. Pensword knew that the first second was compromised somehow so he gave a sound signal and they fell back to another part of the fort where they closed the doors. They could hear through the doors that were barred and Earth Mover, an earth Pony, had moved a desk in front of the door to bar it. They would stay here and fall back to their actual weapons. Let them think they were still in the front part. Pensword looked at another hour glass. Fifteen minutes left. He smiled as he heard a few pots clatter. A sound warning. They only had fifteen minutes left to win the mission.
“Ice Arrows.” Pensword muttered. They had time to beat a retreat as already they could hear the work of the “Gryphons” trying to tear a bigger hole out of the door. Seven minutes left according to Password’s mental clock, which he felt might be a little longer than an hour but he wanted to err on safety.
They fell back as they heard a hinge being torn out of the door frame. As soon as they shut the last door, they waited. Once again traps activated as the Pegasi sixth years charged in anger and fury at being outthought by a smiling bat bird, as well as having been worked up by Tepid Water. Pensword was hearing that word thrown in anger on the others side and in the hallways. Still, he just smiled. Six minutes to go. Bam. The door was hit and cracked as Pensword readied his sword. They were in the hallway to the Commandante’s office. BAM the door was already nearly gone. He didn’t look at the time as the third hit happened and the door broke open. Pensword dropped as arrows fired from behind and into the doorway. Then the Sixth years flooded into the hallway and the battle ensued.
What Pensword did not know was that out of a force of twenty five cadets sent to attack them they were only facing five of the original group while another six attacked the tower, having not heard the command from Tepid Water. She was currently sitting on the stairs fuming as she nursed a white spot right over where her cutie mark was. It would bruise, but nothing more. However, she was not happy about being “dead.” She even knew where the arrow came from. Pensword had taken time to carve his first letter on the shaft of the arrows and one of his hit her where she had the weakest armor.
The battle cries tapered off and out marched Pensword and his group. They were covered in dust. Tepid Water’s eyes narrowed. They were all wounded, but not dead.
It was here that a bell was being rung as Supreme Sunrise walked out of her office, smiling. “One Hour and ten minutes have passed. They have won, as well as repelled an attack.” She smiled as she looked at the cadets. “You did well for the stack you had.” her eyes turned to looked at Tepid Water with a glare. “This means that you all graduate as officers, however,” She added while looking to Pensword. “We are going to have to wait for Unity to approve your situation. Lord Hammer Strike says that he will vouch for you. However we cannot know how long the council will debate your status on if you are considered Pegasi or Thestral. Till then, your squad, minus Hurricane, will remain here in limbo.”
The group did not know what to do. They just looked at each other and smiled. Hurricane smiled and knocked Pensword’s back with a wing. “Don’t worry. I’ll do my best with my house to help you get passage, just… don’t hold your breath too long.”
Operation Cougar is a Success thirty five August 122 ADF
Pensword did not know where he was, only that he was running. Running past buildings and fences. Running with others, others he knew to be friends from Mountainside. Yet in his chest he could feel it, cold and clawing, fear. A scream in the air. The sound of something descending upon the town. He felt his head turn as the eyes that he felt were not his own looked into the snow falling sky. From the snow came the images of shadows. Shadows that became Gryphons in full war gear. His eyes turned just in time to see himself run right into the pole of a lamp. The pain he could feel was disorienting and then he felt it, the hot coals of talons piercing his hide and the rough shove to the ground. With total fear and panic he saw the Gryphon screech in triumph as it lunged forward, beak open, right towards his chest.
His eyesight swam as he felt his legs moving again. This time his ears were ringing from the bells at the school and the town hall, when suddenly they both clattered to silence. Screams filled his ears as the bells rang no more. Now the wind was the only source of sound and it carried with it the screams of the villagers and the war cries of the Gryphons. The pony he was looking through was running only to ram himself into a rough rope net that yanked it off the ground. he could feel others trapped within the net with him, all screaming and pleading as they continued to rise higher and higher. He could feel the air growing colder as they ascended. Then, the sensation of being dropped. His stomach left him and he felt a scream come from his muzzle. He felt a jolt, but next thing he knew, was flying, dodging not just Gryphons but arrows and spears. A sudden pain in a wing caused him to look to his side and he mentally cried in horror.This was his brother he was seeing and an arrow was lodged in his wing, tearing the membrane. Still, he was flying hard only to feel something hit him from above and a snap in the arrow torn wing. He spiraled downwards, but before he could feel the impact, darkness claimed him.
The next scene Pensword experienced came from the perspective of one of the militia ponies who were fighting and bleeding. He gasped in pain as a club hit his head and he staggered. Above him the Gryphon only grinned as he attacked.This time the monster used its talons and he felt them tear at his armor and then at his chest, his now unprotected chest. As his eyesight faded he saw something he did not want to see, something pulsing and red held in the crimson talons of the Gryphon.
Again his head spun. He could feel himself crying, screaming in terror. He knew it all too well. His sister, his beloved little sister, was screaming. And as he watched through her eyes he felt her head forced up to witness as his father was killed, and then his mother. The Mayor soon followed suit, new meat to be fed to the gloating leader who was almost untouched with scars. His feathers glowed a fiery red, accented by the crimson fluid that spattered his armor. He chuckled and gloated as he raised a glass of something in a mocking toast while he spoke to the dead mayor’s body. “Surrender? Prey never surrender.” She, his sister, could only shiver. He shuddered mentally as a Gryphon walked into her field of vision and in broken Equish he heard him gloat. “I bet you will be tasty…” A pain in her neck and she felt no more.
Again his eyes saw from the viewpoint of another. This time he knew who it was, as well as where they were. This was the Hooves estate and he looked to the left and saw Heavy Hooves in full armor. He looked back to the front and saw the town swarming with Gryphons before they heard the screech from above as the Gryphons attacked the estate’s walls. In return, Unicorn mages with magic were firing attack spells from their horns, trying their best to kill the enemy. Magic took down five Gryphons, but it was of no use. More were swarming and the sounds of death and destruction filled his ears as visions of death branded his mind. He would never forget. A Gryphon laughed and a snap was heard. He felt pain beyond all belief. He looked with swimming eyesight and saw what happened. A horn lay broken on the ground. His own horn. With a final yelp of horror, he felt his magic welling up and could feel it inside his body as it expanded out. It ended with a bang.
Pensword felt worn out mentally. He had seen so much carnage and destruction, and now, now he could see through the eyes of the last Pony. He could see death and destruction and he knew who this was. It was his friend, and the last of the Mountainside Falls Militia who signed his papers. He was led to the table and forced to sit down. He noted the table had been taken from the mayor’s office.
He could not read the language but he was forced, with his bleeding hoof, to press into the parchment. He looked up and narrowed his eyes. He found words not his own speaking as the Gryphons smiled. “May Faust take-” he did not finish as the Leader with red feathers stood, sword drawn. He swung swiftly. Time seemed to slow as the blade arced, slowly driving home until it made contact … right at neck level.
Inside the barracks the rest of the squad had been awoken and were staring in fear as Pensword thrashed and screamed in sheer horror and agony. The blanket was thrown to the ground, and yet nothing they could do had woken him from whatever it was that was affecting him. They could hear him mutter, and Blue Vase could tell something was terribly wrong. Periodically his body would spasm, or a move would occur that to her newly trained eyes, indicated death blows.
She could hear as Fox Feather was racing back with the Cadre and hopefully some of the medical staff for Pensword. Why couldn’t he wake up? After she herself had been clocked in the head trying to wake him, no other pony had the courage to approach.
Suddenly Pensword shot up and let loose a protracted scream. “No!” it was loud, hoarse, and above all a raw emotion of something that they never heard from Pensword. Rage.
Major Tepid Water actually smirked as she entered the room. “So did the baby finally-” She did not finish her words as Pensword with lightning speed lunged, actually pinning her to the wall. She could not even feel the floor under her hind hooves and she felt her ears tick nervously. Pensword was strong, and fast. She mentally thought to herself, wondering how to get out of this pose when her ears were blasted with a loud bellow from Pensword into her muzzle.
“Wake the Commandante. Abandon the post. Abandon fort Jasmine!” His voice had not lessened and there was fear in his eyes. Not just fear Tepid Water realized, a fire as well. And for the first time in her life, she felt fear towards what she deemed a lesser being.
“Lieutenant Pensword! Release your superior Officer. Now!” Commandante Supreme Sunrise yelled as she walked into the barracks of the Last Chancers. “Explain what is happening, why di-” she cut herself off upon seeing Pensword’s eyes.
“They are coming. They are going to wipe out every post and Pony in this region. I..” he rippled in rage and something flickered on the edge of her vision, seeming to flow around the cadet. “Commandante, I resign. I have to go home and take care of them.”
“Them?” Blue Vase asked. “Them who?”
“Gryphons.” Pensword said hoarsely, his voice hollow, ragged. “They attacked... “ he looked up. “You have all heard the stories, the tales to scare ponies into fearing Thestrals and their ways of knowing secrets. They att-” his voice broke as he struggled to compose himself. Then he gulped and tried again. “They wiped out my town. I do not know when, but tonight I saw it. I experienced it.”
Tepid Water snorted derisively, which caused Pensword to spin, glaring right at her. Hatred and contempt radiated, unmasked in his eyes. She went rigid, still, and silent. She did not want to be pinned to the wall again so soon after getting her hooves onto the ground. Pensword spoke directly to her, quietly at first, but rising with a steady crescendo. “I felt my heart ripped out alive at least three times. I felt myself dropped to my death in a net. I felt talons ripping my wings off as I still breathed. Arrows pierced my hyde…” His chest was heaving as he listed off the atrocities. “I saw my town run red!” he roared, culminating his account, composure clearly gone.
Supreme Sunrise paled over, her white fur turning grey, then white once more. “Protocol Empty Nest.” She ordered, her voice hollow, her mane wilted and flat.
“You believe him? It was a nightmare. Thestrals control them. You-” Tepid Water started.
“You listen to me.” Supreme Sunrise said as she glared at Tepid Water. “There was an old pony in my town when I was a filly. He saw things and knew things. I heard the stories and was told that a day would come when I would know the stories were true. Tonight just from how Pensword is acting, I know he speaks the truth.” She turned to Pensword. “Resignation Denied, Lieutenant. You are to attack as an Equestrian military officer.”
The Squad smiled at one another before they looked to their leader. They had in the last three years of limbo grown to twenty strong. “Pensword, where you go, we all go. You led us through life here and we beat the living feathers off our enemies. We will face the demons with you.” Blue Vase spoke while the others nodded their heads around him.
Pensword almost looked like he was going to refuse, but then he nodded his head gravely. “You would go no matter my orders. Very well, I have one order to give tonight. One I want followed to the letter.” A single tear gleamed in the moonlight streaming from his window as he raised his head. “NO survivors.” He paused and spoke again. “If you find a Red Feathered Gryphon almost untouched by scars, leave him to me.” His eyes narrowed. “He killed my mother, father, and little sister. He killed our mayor. His life is mine.”
The silence from the others was deep. Tepid Water was the one to break it. “What? What?” She repeated a little louder.
“Two tried to surrender peacefully to the Gryphons. They were killed where they stood. If they will not accept Civilians surrendering, then neither will I accept their surrenders.” His voice and manner was changed that night. Something had snapped and was broken. He blinked back the remaining tears and it hit the others. Lieutenant Pensword of the Equestrian Military had just lost every reason why he first joined the Equestrian Army in one night. The only things he had left were those cadets who had stayed in limbo with him. The only fit course of action left that all could see in that room was to pay back the enemy for what they did to his family and town. Those monsters would learn to fear the name of Pensword.
Supreme Sunrise smiled grimly. “Pensword. I expect to see you in Unity by fall, if not sooner. And,” She paused, smiling grimly. “Pensword. IF you write, address me as Commandante Suprise. Only those in battle can call me that.”
What has been done, can never be undone. Five March 125 ADF
Hammer Strike, who had been waiting for the last hour, pacing, now found himself sorting through countless letters from nobles, his mind having found a way to search the letters effectively to determine if the noble was going to bother him with requests or be something more pleasant. He found himself distracted from his efforts by a flash of light and a scroll, bearing Celestia’s royal seal on it appearing.
He raised his brow, questioning the reason for the message as he looked over to his calendar. The date had next to no meaning for anything special. With a shake of his head he grabbed the letter and broke the seal, opening it.
‘Hammer Strike
It is with my deepest regrets that I must inform you that my scouts have notified me that Mountainside Falls has been attacked by the Gryphonian Army. There are currently no known survivors of this attack and a team has been dispatched accordingly. Under our current treaty this constitutes an act of war and I am afraid I must ask you and your army to join us in Unity so we may assemble to discuss the war. It is official now. We are at war.
I must also bring forth the matter of Lieutenant Pensword, as you know Mountainside Falls was his home and the posting he was hoping to be assigned to. With the town gone and war being declared I must first put the option to you to bring him into your service before placing him within another army.
… They are eating ponies, Hammer Strike. They are EATING my little ponies!
I need you now, my friend, ally, and devoted teacher. Please help us.
H.R.H.
Princess Celestia Galaxia.’
Hammer Strike placed the letter down on his table, a hoof to his head as he processed the information. "Oh Celestia, if only I could warn you of the horrors that await you..." he muttered as he looked heavenward. Grif entered the room a minute later.
“My lord, a messenger just came by and left screaming that we are at war. All nobles are being ordered to assemble in Unity. The men are arming themselves for a march now. We are awaiting your orders.”
Hammer’s eyes sharpened as he stood up. “We march for Mountainside. Unity can wait.”
“And may Faust have mercy on any gryphons we find in our path.” Grif said, stone faced. “My lord, I think it is time you properly adorned yourself to show them the powder keg they just lit up.”
“I shall be out with you shortly.” Hammer Strike noted, already heading for the door. “I should have a set prepared. Make sure all are prepared for the march to Mountainside.”
“Of course, my lord.” Grif nodded as he left the room. If looks could kill, the servants who crossed the usually calm gryphon’s path would have been massacred.
Hammer Strike took a different route than Grif, quickly finding himself in the forge before he took a seperate door inside, leading him somewhere extra. His personal armory.
Without much thought he wormed himself into a set of armor. He didn’t pay much attention to choice as they all seemed the same when it came to defense.
Without so much as a second thought he grabbed one of his blades, an old sword that still followed him.
Shaking his head he pulled himself out of his foggy mind and continued on, pushing himself out of the forge and into the yard.
Grif stood before his men: more than a hundred ponies of different tribes and genders. They had all been mercenaries hired onto his house and each was formidable in their own right. They stood in squares: five ponies breadth five ponies deep. At the center of each square stood a banner of dark blue cloth with the gold insignia of House Strike on the center. The cloth parts of each soldier's armor had been died the same shade of blue with the gold insignia engraved on the back of their armor.
Grif looked at Hammer Strike. “They are ready, my lord.” Grif smiled grimly “Let us just hope the other houses were half as prepared.”
“I would not trust them to be a quarter.” Hammer Strike replied, walking to the front.
“March!” Grif roared at the top of his lungs.
And with that they all set off, their destination close, but far.
To Mountainside Falls, they traveled, and the pain and carnage that lay in wait.
“Come on, you.” Grif dragged the beaten, bloody gryphon forward. “You said the camp was this way. We haven’t seen one gryphon on the air or on the ground. Where are the hoards you threatened us with? I was looking for some sport, not a fledgling who obviously ran away before he finished his training.” The gryphon in question had been part of a ten gryphon scouting party Hammer Strike’s military had come across on their trip over. The battle had been neither long nor clean and the other nine gryphons and this Gryphon's wings currently laid dead where they had fallen. Mountainside Falls was in ruins, smoke still billowing from some areas as the burnt wood fouled the air.
“Camp was right here.” The gryphon spoke weakly. “I do not know what happened to them. Please, just let me rest.”
Grif glanced casually over to Hammer Strike. In that moment an arrow gave the Gryphon his rather permanent rest. Around the camp and from the remains of the town buildings rose Ponies and Thestrals as they all pointed their bows at Grif. They hesitated for one reason: the emblems of House Strike upon his custom made armor.
A moment later a Navy Blue Pegasus with White Mane and Tail and blue eyes plummeted into the clearing from the skies with a scream. “What is the meaning of this?” He turned to the Earth Pony. “I am in charge of this military unit. I demand to know why you have a Gryphon in your ranks… He is already sentenced to death unless you can tell me otherwise.”
“Due to the fact that he swore his oath to me about three to four months prior to this, and he has not done anything untrustworthy yet. And he had plenty of chances.” Hammer Strike replied. “It has been awhile, Pensword.”
Pensword balked at Hammer Strike before turning and striking Grif on the cheek. “Is that true, blood feather? Did you actually swear an oath to prey?” He asked. Hammer Strike realized that the strike was to shock the truth out of the one being struck.
The surrounding mercenaries went completely, and quite suddenly, still. Many had fought this gryphon in sparring matches and despite what they thought they knew, most had been soundly thrashed. A few had even been placed in the infirmary from this gryphon’s actions. Most suspected within the next few moments this pegasus would be dead.
Grif, however, neither reached for his sword nor demanded a duel. He didn’t roar or screech. He didn’t draw his knife or attack with his claws. He simply lifted his head, and moved to expose the other cheek to the pony.
Pensword stared, his face a mask of shock at the reaction. This was Grif’s answer. Angrily, he moved his hoof and struck him again. “Okay,” he growled. “What were you doing with a member of the Emperor's Beak?” He pointed to the dead Gryphon in the clearing with them.
“Sending him to the hell he and all his deserve.” The gryphon responded. “And do not call a pony my prey. Gryphons of the Northern Isles do not prey on thinking creatures.” He spat to the ground beside him.
Pensword bristled, but did not say another word as he looked to Hammer Strike. He raised a wing and the ponies relaxed and backed away. “You are lucky I am in a talking mood, Lion. Otherwise you would have died with that pelt.” He took a deep breath, shaking a little. “Blue Vase.” he ordered. “Escort Lord Hammer Strike and those he wishes to join him to the Commander’s Tent. I must debrief the guests.” He turned and Grif saw him looking to a corner of the destroyed clearing that had once been the town square. He lingered on that empty spot a moment longer than usual before walking back towards the mountain and the falls. “Secure the town and the enemy records. Load the carts. we march for Unity in the morning.” He sounded disgusted with himself. He paused, and Grif and others heard his voice cracking. “I shall return to this place to keep it Equestrian.” He moved quickly away.
Blue Vase nodded towards Hammer Strike. “If you would follow me, milord, and apologies for not bowing. In a place like this, that could kill you.” She looked at the others. “You may only bring your advisors with you.”
Grif looked at the pegasus. “Do you still have the bodies? Or have you disposed of them yet?” The gryphon asked.
Blue Vase looked at the Gryphon. “They are being covered at the moment in the burned out school building.” She narrowed her eyes. “Why do you ask? That is a secure area as we are still digging the graves for them.”
“Because I would rather you let me chop them up and send a message to the Gryphon Empire until you return.” The gryphon answered bluntly. “They deserve no funeral rights.”
Blue Vase looked at Grif. “Captain Pensword had to quell that sentiment already in the camp. He wants to win this war, but as he put it, he will not stoop to their level of disrespect for the dead. They get Pony Funerals.”
“Well the fact you are insulting them far greater than what I suggested I must point out if you wish to keep this area you must show them that their talons will be cursed setting aground here.”
Blue Vase looked at the Gryphon with a blank expression, tinged by anger. “Then I suggest you give the suggestion to the Captain. He has final say on this matter, if you would follow me.” She gestured and soon it was just Grif, Hammer Strike, and Lunar Fang who walked into the tents of what was by far a very strange sight. Gryphon war tents being used and inhabited by Ponies. They soon reached a rather large tent that upon entering had all the finery of a Gryphon leader from the Emperor’s troops. Pensword was sitting at the desk looking over maps and trying to decipher the text of the documents that his troops had captured.
Grif approached Pensword. “Captain, we must talk about the gryphon bodies in the school.”
Pensword glanced up and looked down. “You need your Lord’s permission before I am to talk to you.” He was still giving Grif a cold shoulder.
“Go on.” Hammer Strike said simply as they walked.
Pensword at those words only nodded to the Gryphon to speak his mind. His face still stone cold as he avoided looking at the ruins around him
“Captian, while you issuing the gryphons pony rights is perfectly disrespectful and well what they deserve and more, I must ask that if you truly want this area saved, let me make a sign to keep the emperor's men off these lands.”
Pensword looked up and right at the Gryphon trying to look as intimidating as possible as he directed the flames in his eyes at Grif. “Very well. Speak what you wish to do, only after you tell me what you wish done can I make a proper decision. I will consider your request.”
“In death, how we are buried determines how we must carry on.” Grif began. “Those who have held their honor and bear their wings proudly fly with the north wind. Those who spoke with great cunning and flew swiftly fly with the west wind. Those who were wise and flew regaly to the eastwind, and they that were charitable and flew with pious wings fly to the south wind. But it is to walk the earth that all gryphons fear. I will remove their wings before burial and string them amongst this place. the ground will be cursed to talon and paw that should disturb it because of the mass of those who are forced to walk here.”
Pensword paused and seemed to stare behind Grif and to the left as he was thinking before nodding his head. “Granted, but on the condition that you know that the spirit is always made whole in death, no matter what damage the body receives.” He looked down at the papers and looked up again as he heard a gasp.
He blinked and jumped to his hooves. “Ma’am I am sorry I did not see you back there.” he addressed the third pony in the group. Moonshade only blushed at her outburst.
“May, I explain to milord and our friendly Gryphon the reason of my outburst?” She asked politely as if asking to share personal information with a stranger.
Pensword looked to Lord Hammer Strike and then nodded his head as he turned around to look at another map. “Go ahead, I am sure they would figure it out eventually … the rest of my men and my Gramma’s tribe know already.”
Lunar Fang nodded and looked to the other two in the room. “Well, there are those in Thestral communities that have a certain sight, we do not know why or where or even who will inherit it. But what Captain Pensword here is able to do, is see past the gate we all cannot see.” She blushed a little. “It is only close friends or family that are allowed to be told, however due to how, I guess, suddenly, this happened to Pensword, a lot more know than might have been wise to start with.”
Pensword turned around and looked at Grif. “You read High Gryphon, right? The language used for military dispatches?”
“Gryphic is its name and it is used for most actions. I can translate it but it may be encoded.” Grif answered honestly.
“Go for it. We have all the documents. We took them out before they could destroy them.” he paused. Why was he trusting this Gryphon? He bristled his wings and fluffed his fur a little before trying to calm down and looked again at the Thestral. “What is your name? Because I have the oddest sense of deja vu at the moment.”
“My name is Lunar Fang, though I am also called Moonshade of the Southern Lion Tribe.” She told him, trying her best to recall the teachings of her grandmother.
“A pleasure to meet you Lunar Fang of the Southern Lion Tribe. I am Moonkissed Pensword of the Northern Bear Clan.” He replied with a bow of his head and Thestral move of his wings in greeting.
“Well met under Moonlight.” She bowed back.
“Thank you.” Pensword replied with a smile and a few tears, however, he furrowed his brow as he twitched a wing as if to brush off someone talking to him. Then he walked forward and towards Moonshade, who at the moment was hearing what sounded like a whisper to kiss him, not knowing that Pensword was hearing the same words to kiss her. That moment his mind felt hazy and like he was on the verge of something important. He gulped a little as he was unsure just what his family was doing. Especially why his little sister was egging him on at the moment.
“I was employed to protect Lord Hammer Strike.” Lunar Fang said, attempting to keep the conversation going. “We’ve been encountering some strange creatures. We once fought a trio of hairless minotaurs.”
“Hairless? Is that some strange practice of the Minotaurs?” he muttered in confusion as he flicked an ear and he thought he heard some refrain of a song. Moonshade on the other hoof heard the song from New Years in her head and she was feeling frustrated in this memory trap.
“If you do not mind my asking, have you ever met an individual named Washington?” The Thestral asked. “I’ve heard he is quite famous.”
Pensword just stared at Lunar Fang. “I am sorry. But I have not met this pony, was he a Pegasus? Did he serve with Commander Hurricane?” He felt that name should mean something, but it was just that, another inkling of something there and yet not there. He remembered looking in a clear blue lake and the image at the bottom of the lake was distorted, just like this memory that was not quite a memory.
“Oh, for the dark side of the moon.” Moon Shade face hoofed before pulling the pegasus to her. “Come back to me, Pensword.” And with that the thestral pulled the pegasus’ muzzle into her own.
Pensword himself actually was shocked at the kiss. He was, why was Moonshade kissing him? What about Lunar… she was Lunar Fang, wait She was LUNAR FANG?! He mentally shouted only before another thought entered his mind.
“I bowed to royalty? You had ME bowed to a Baron? You have me beholded to laws… what about Washington and,” Pensword staggered back as Lunar Fang caught him and his first words out of his mouth was.
“Grif! So help me… You thought it funny not telling us that She is Lunar Fang? Do you know how many dates I could have been on?” He blinked and blinked again. “Wait… I am friends with a Gryphon.” He muttered and looked at Hammer Strike, more of his past self emerging as the waters within his mind began to calm. “Tell me you slept at least once on your march here.” He paused and shook his head. “But…” He began to bubble a little. “I…” he gulped and pulled Lunar Fang into a tight embrace. “They killed my family…” he voice took a hard tone. “They killed the only family I had left….” He shook a little before relaxing in grief. “They killed me, devoured me, dropped me on my head.” He looked up at his friends showing the true emotions of that night. “I lived that night over and over again.” he looked to the east wall and to another part of the city. “I see their faces, I saw just who each of those Gryphons killed and more of them escaped my justice….” He trailed off and wilted. “What have I done?” He whispered in shock.
“You have lived a second life, friend.” Hammer Strike replied. “And now, you can remember where the last one ended and the whole of this one.”
“You did what justice demanded.” Grif said. “Don’t feel pity for them, Pensword. There’ll be many more yet.”
Pensword nodded his head and gulped before smiling. “Well at least there is some silver lining to this raincloud.” He leaned in and kissed Lunar Fang on the check. “I get to marry a very pretty and perfect Thestral.” He paused and looked to the side. “Already, mom? Just three kisses and you start asking that question?” He paused and looked to the others… just as Blue Vase entered. She blinked. She could sense something had happened.
“Blue Vase, bring in the Gryphon Slayers. I have been honest with them my entire life, I have to be honest with them even now…. I just, something needs to be aired that will not work well outside of this group. After all, I am the crazy Captain who talks to the walls or objects.” He frowned a little. “Faust help any who anger my parents.” Blue Vase saluted and left. “I ask you to follow me to the burned… to the destroyed town hall. Something like I have in my head, needs to be done at Town Hall.” he sighed, moved outside, and looked to the sky. “They looted the town. They took everything from art to documents. The only thing they were destroying were the buildings themselves.” he looked to Grif. “They wanted Full Control.”
“The soul of the vanquished belongs to the victor.” Grif explained as he looked to Lunar Fang and Hammer Strike. “The actions of the one who kills another in battle can determine everything about the defeated future in the afterlife. Most of the time it’s expected to hand the body of another gryphon to their family for a proper burial. But in the case of a warrior that has cut off the wings, decapitated the corpse, or even the worst of all, burned it to ashes and scattered them. what happened here is the gryphons believe that ponies are guided by their princesses in the afterlife just as we are guided by the winds, or more importantly ponies are guided by the sun and moon, because the sun and moon are linked to Celestia and Luna they feared what would happen should the message get out too early about what they were doing. All these towns they’ve been wiping out they must have been trying to assure the souls never had a chance to alert the princesses of their presence.”
Pensword looked south now. South towards Unity. “Then let me be the one to ferry all the souls of Mountainside and the other towns to the Princesses.” his voice growling as he looked back to the path and the journey towards the town hall. “I am the last to live from this town. Only I survived because I was training others to fight. A fight and a war that will come. Faust guide their path away from here and into safety.”
“We’ll make them pay, make no mistake about that.” Grif said. “Every last one will pay for this. I’ll stuff your pillow with the feathers of the gryphons who did this.”
Pensword, no, Matthew actually, only smiled and used that to make Grif able to live near Pensword. “Consider it done, and a word of your honor. Do that and I shall not give you the same fate.” The words were harsh, but Grif could hear that slight warmth of caring that Matthew always had. That sound that only friends could hear from one another.
Lunar Fang smiled faintly as they stepped into the charred remains of Town Hall. The stone walls still stood and one could see areas that dropped into a basement. Damages indicated a floor had once been above their heads. Pensword moved and waited for the Nineteen ponies of his squad. In the corner a sheet lay out over a stretcher, the only casualty of the battle on the pony side.
Ten Minutes later, the ponies stood assembled. “My friends.” Pensword boomed. “My allies and family in blood and tears,” he kept moving his head to look at each one of them. “I ... you have rallied around me when I first lived the death of my home. So I must say that what I say next, is not the mad ravings of a mind broken, but healed.” He looked to the three others. “I truly am an old soul as the Thestrals say, you see…” Pensword with this beginning launched into his story while his squad watched with widening eyes. The entire time, Lunar Fang was shocked to see that those that were serving under him were believing every word spoken. She could only smile to herself as the story continued. These troops would be part of one of the greatest upsets in Gryphon history.
Much to the chagrin of Hammer Strike despite arriving more than a week late they were greeted with large crowds of ponies cheering. Unity was truly a marvel of earth pony architecture. Each building was built from large hewn stone blocks, rounded and carved lovingly into delicate houses and large ornate buildings. All over banners flew declaring to which house they belonged or which noble they followed. The golden legion, the pegasi and unicorns who guarded the royal palace, stood proudly on either end of the road as the army of House Strike crossed. Mares and stallions, colts and fillies all cheered loudly for yet another noble coming to pledge his army to Celestia.
Grif kept his head forward and the hood of his cloak covering his head. He could feel the intense stares coming from the crowd. He didn’t blame them, he couldn’t imagine having to trust what you’d taken to be your enemy.
Hammer Strike found himself not too focused on what was going on, instead he was thinking of what was to come. Everyone else was doing their own thing, but he was planning. Planning for a future he knew would be very dangerous.
Pensword was marching forward with Lunar Fang at his side, she being the advisor from House Strike to his unit. His unit had in fact been marching with the captured colors and insignias of the Gryphons that had attacked and destroyed his home town. Already he could tell that the showcasing of captured enemy equipment was a good moral boost after the realization that this war had already been going on for a few years before anypony even thought of putting two and two together. Pensword realized something. They were being led towards the castle itself. They were going to meet with the Princesses directly and Pensword was flabbergasted. He had never dreamed of seeing the Princesses in person. Matthew only chuckled and then they both wondered. What were they like now? Not a Thousand Years into the future, but now.
They soon found themselves in the presence of Princess Celestia herself. Only Hammer Strike, Pensword, Grif, and Lunar Fang were currently in the room with her. At the moment she was standing before a set of doors.
“Hello Celestia, have you been practicing with the Twinblade as I instructed?” Hammer Strike asked right away.
“When I have time, Yes.” Celestia nodded. “Though they seem small for me.”
“Give me a day when I have free time and I shall make a bigger one if you want.” Hammer Strike responded.
Pensword had almost bowed only to be stopped by Matthew’s resistance at bending a knee to a noble. No matter how good they might be, he was back to active service and he was going to try. However, Pensword was mortified that he was not bowing. Finally, Matthew relented, at least until he could impart more information to this fully formed second personality. He bowed, only to have Celestia move a wing while she spoke to Hammer Strike.
Pensword just looked to his friend and he did not know what to think about what this was happening, this, almost family casual speaking with one half of the diarchy. He only blinked still standing at attention while letting the conversation continue around him.
“Please do not take me for the emperor's gryphons, princess. I mean no ill will to Equestria.” Grif said lowering his head respectfully.
Celestia nodded. “The Northern Isles have made it clear they do not wish to be of any part of what is happening. It is good to see you, Hammer Strike. Yours is a head I trust most in a time like this.”
“I have been thinking about this situation for awhile, yes.” Hammer Strike responded.
“Well you be joining us on the battlefield?” Celestia asked.
“Do you have to ask? I can remember one thing you mentioned about me in times like this.” Hammer Strike responded.
Pensword shuffled his hooves a little and smiled. Yet he felt ... he shook his head mentally. They were not ignoring you because you look like a bat bird, there's a hierarchy for this, and you need to wait your turn. This is politics, not military. He paused and mentally blinked as he realized he had just combined two words together. What a lazy way of speaking, Pensword thought to himself.
“It is still good to hear it confirmed verbally. Naturally the other lords have pledged armies or resources, but not actual help,” Celestia said, leading the four with her into the throne room. “Luna returns tomorrow and I fear something may happen.”
Pensword looked at his Princess and spoke without realizing he had spoken out of turn. “Thy troops shall protect thee and thy sister.” he did not realize till this moment that he now sounded like Princess Luna as Matthew remembered her speaking. He did not smile outwardly but he did smile on the inside.
“Things shall turn out fine. If something were to happen, it will be dealt with quickly.” Hammer Strike said.
“I’m guessing by recent events her goodwill trip didn’t quite work out well?” Grif asked.
Pensword stared at Grif and the others in the room. “I was under the impression her trip was at least being received well, and all lives are accounted for. Although, I heard before the parade that she is returning with a delegation of Gryphons in hopes of settling a border tension.” He frowned. “Your Majesty. I apologize for speaking out of turn, it is just my unit has captured notes, supplies, and documentation concerning what happened to Mountainside. I already was informed by your letter. Shall I assume that the others do not know that they are eating citizens or is this only for the Strike House?”
“I imagine there would be more panicked fleeing into the center of the country.” Celestia said. “We have dispatched more guards to the surviving settlements but we will not be revealing anything official till the council of war meets formally.” Celestia explained.
Pensword raised a wing a little. “With your respect your majesty, may I ask if I shall also be attending this council of war or will I need to give Lord Hammer Strike my information to present to the council?”
“You will be coming with me.” Hammer Strike replied. “Should they have a problem with this choice, they can learn to tolerate it.” His brows furrowed slightly as he said this.
“If that is what you want, that is what will happen.” Celestia nodded.
“And with it, I am bound to deal with the comments of other nobles.” Hammer Strike replied with distaste. “Too bad I never cared for their view on myself.”
“As long as none of them try to kill me.” Grif noted.
“I will not allow them to even come close.” Hammer Strike said. “Not again.”
“Oookay.” Grif noted. “That wasn’t the least bit creepy.”
“I spent a long time trying to get you both back, I shall be damned before I let something happen again.” He responded before he took a breath, sighing as he tried to release tension from his shoulders.
Pensword raised an eyebrow. “Uh, I am not some colt with a cold you know. I just led a single unit to take command and wiped out over seventy Gryphons with the help of my Gramma’s tribe to reclaim my home.” He bristled a little before taking a breath. “Sorry, Sorry, I just ... it still hurts knowing I won’t see my mother again. I, That just reminds me of my mother and father and what they would do if I got bullied in the market.” He blinked and coughed and looked away as he tried to compose himself. “I spoke out of turn, milord. Forgive me.”
“You do not need to apologize.” Hammer Strike noted. “I started that. Let us just continue.”
“So shall I have your regular rooms prepared?” Celestia asked Hammer Strike.
“I think we should return to my home.” Hammer Strike replied. “I think it would be best to keep tension from other nobles until we are required to be here.” He gave a small smile. “I shall still be near should you want to talk later.”
“Then I will see you here for breakfast tomorrow.” Celestia said. “I need you nearby … just in case.”
“I shall be here.” Hammer replied.
Pensword stood in awe, his mouth agape after entering the entrance hall. He turned around and looked to the simple garden in front and the front entry. “I, This looks like the entrance hall of the Governors Palace in Williamsburg…” he blinked and looked to his left. “That is from the human times.” he muttered and looked back. “Only there were muskets and swords, maces, and,” he paused. “Is that a miniature catapult?” He muttered at the said item in the middle of the large entry. “Still impressive and only one room. I have yet to even see the stairs.”
“You three are welcome to wander around the building, no guard should give you trouble here.” Hammer Strike said, heading towards one of the hallways. “If you need me, ask one of the guards and they should know where I am.” He said.
“Is there somewhere high I can room?” Grif asked. “I’m more comfortable higher up.”
“Somewhere, I am sure.” Hammer replied, standing before a hallway, making sure they had no more questions for him.
“Uh. You do have three towers it looked like.” Pensword paused and looked around a little. “Do you have someplace I can be alone for the moment? I, I need time to recollect my thoughts and… talk it out with my great grandmother with what I saw and experienced.” he paused, “As well as finish collecting this information that I am far older than I thought I was.” He paused and frowned. “Or younger then I was….” he grunted. “Now I hate Time Travel even more.”
“The garden in the back is typically empty at this time.” Hammer Strike replied. “Both younger and older technically.” He pointed a hoof towards one of the hallways. “Head down and take the third left, you should find yourself there shortly.”
Pensword only nodded and gave a salute, that Shawn faintly remembered was something his friend Matthew would do at times before he turned around and followed the directions as he was asked. His hoof steps fading. Moonshade looked sad at his departing form.
“He has gone through so much recently. I, I shall stay in the shade and be there if he needs a physical shoulder to cry on.” She too departed, leaving Grif and Hammer Strike alone in the hall.
“I’m going to check my weapons.” Grif noted. “The war starts tomorrow after all. Can’t go to war without well maintained weapons.” With that, Griff strolled off.
Hammer Strike found himself alone again as he stood in the main hall. He blinked as he finally focused on the room again, realising that everypony had gone. Shaking his head he found himself heading down the hall he was standing before. Ever so slowly, a faint smile creeped onto his face. He had his friends back.
Pensword sighed as he stood in a part of the gardens that seemed nice. A fountain stood nearby, portraying what appeared to be a pegasus on a cloud spewing water into the basin. On closer inspection, he realized that the pegasus had fangs and pointed ear tufts. Pensword blinked and smiled a little. “He really missed us it seems.” He turned his head as he heard foot falls.
From around a bush walked not any of the ponies that he had seen before, but a face he had only seen in pictures ... and as an old man in real life. “G-” he started but fell silent in awe.
“Matthew.” The man spoke with a smile as he took off the hat from another era. His hair was thick and black. “My grandson.” he walked forward and sat down on the fountain’s edge. “Do you know why you can see me now?”
Pensword, no Matthew as a pony, shook his head in the negative. He still spoke though. “I am sorry, but I don’t know. Well … I think I do, but I am not sure. Was, was it because of what I experienced that night?”
His grandfather smiled a little. “Yes. If you did not have this gift where you can make peace and amends and allow those that wish to make amends with you to do so, you would have gone mad.” His grandfather looked to his grandson. “You may have wings and fur, but know this; your mind is still yours. I want you to know that. Also that you and I can have a little time here and there to talk.” He looked to the path he came down. “I know how much you look up to my Generation for what we did. We only did our duty and what we needed to be done. Just as you shall do what you need to do here.” He stood up and turned around, then smiled. “You have a long time to go before I can hug you again. Also, do not rescind that order. At the moment the Gryphons only understand brute force. Leaving survivors will only weaken their fear of Equestria. Also, Pensword needs his own healing. Do not make the mistake of faulting just now.” He turned to another pathway. “I might bring your grandmother to visit some of the sights here. It’s a rather beautiful place in its own right. See you around.” He walked towards the entrance to another path and placed his cap back on his head as his outfit changed to slacks, a white shirt and a blue sweater vest with the hat becoming a formless one. He tipped it to a Thestral that walked out of the path and smiled. “Moon Beam.” With a turn he was out of sight.
Pensword smiled as he looked to his right and saw Moonshade, or rather Lunar Fang just looking at him, bewildered. “Mom, is she going to be like that all the time? Seeing only one part of the conversation?”
His mother only gave a sly look. “Well, I think for the moment, yes. But it won’t take long after you two marry that she will at least see me. Still, I am only here to say to go be with her. Hug her, cry in her mane. Just be with the living. You cannot always rely on us ghosts to keep you happy. There are many who have had your gift who have chosen to waste away to be with the ones they miss rather than be with the ones who need them in the world of the living. Be with Moonshade today. Be together as two lost ships in time. That is my advice as your mother today in Pony society. Also, no, your mother from earth is alive and strong. Do not worry about her.”
Pensword saw his mother from Equestria fade away before he smiled and slowly walked over to Lunar Fang. He sat down next to her in the shade and just smiled as he watched the scenery around him. “Can, can I give you a wing hug?” He asked with a slight blush. The only response he got was a sudden jerking as he was enveloped by Moon Shade’s wings. So he returned the motion and the two just sat there listening to nature and being silent. Pensword gave a sigh of contentment. “It is nice to see undamaged artwork and stonework.”
Grif sighed as he placed the last of his weapons down before him, a whet stone, an oiled rag and a large tankard of water lay on the table beside them. Skillfully and efficiently, he began to work on his weapons. Graf had always been very strict about how weapons should be cared for. The Northern Isles lacked large amounts of iron, so weapons had to be bought or looted. The salty seawater and the high winds were not beneficial to the weapon’s condition, and neither was the constant temperature change. So weapons needed to be well looked after to last a long time. The gryphon casually ground at his knife blades pausing every so often to observe the edge.
Grif pondered the last few months carefully, not just the months in the past but also the months in the future. He shook his head as the complexity of time travel gave him a headache. A few months ago in his human mind they had been three regular humans who by some astronomical fluke ended up in a world of brightly coloured cartoon ponies, and promptly ended up fighting a war for them. A while later they had been changed into other creatures, been sent to a land of crystalline cartoon ponies, partially fought a battle for them before getting sent back in time, and then fighting a war for them at that time! And now months later and a thousand years in the past, here he was preparing himself for yet another war. This time, at least, he felt more prepared in the training he had acquired over the last few years. It bugged at the back of his mind, was this going to be their thing? Fight a war, relax a few months, then fight another war?.
Testing his stiletto’s edge he set it down before grabbing his first sword. Was relaxing on a beach somewhere too much to ask for really? Grif sighed, silently promising to himself as soon as things were stable when they returned, he was going on a vacation.
Hammer Strike found himself in his office, sorting through letters and other miscellaneous notes, his journal lay off to the side, locked away in a special container. Having just finished writing an entry, he felt obligated to respond to the messages, despite wanting to spend time with Grif, Pensword, and Lunar Fang, he knew that to them, it hadn’t been all that long mentally.
He found himself lost in his thoughts, no longer focusing on the message in front of him as he thought on the three. He felt angered by other nobles talking to him about Grif. Their rude remarks caused him to dismiss them before he lost his temper. Having all three of his friends back made him feel relieved, but at the same time he dreaded what was to come.
Nobles verbally judged him constantly and through it all he ignored them, not caring what they thought. He heard their remarks behind his back. Some feared him, others hated him. They questioned him. They bothered him, tried to gain favors from him, acted like they cared-
*Snap*
He blinked a couple of times, refocusing his vision as he looked around before finally stopping on the quill in his hoof. It had been snapped in half on the desk. His mind had not registered what he had been doing.
With a sigh he tossed the quill into a small bin at the side of his desk before placing a hoof on his forehead and slumping on the desk, taking a deep breath to try and calm himself.
Not even ten seconds later a couple of knocks came from his door before it opened slightly, revealing one of the servants as she leaned in to speak. “Lord Hammer Strike, Count Promethean Flame has come to talk with you. Shall I let him in, or tell him you are busy?” The servant asked, knowing Hammer Strike’s opinion of Promethean.
“Send him in, lest he bother me at another time.” He heaved a sigh, a hoof going to the bridge of his nose. The servant nodded before heading back out, closing the door.
Silently he counted the time, knowing it would take around four minutes and eight seconds to get from his office to the front door, open said door, and then bring said guest from the front door to the office again. Overall, about five hundred and twenty three pony steps.
Exactly on time, there was another knock on the door. “Come in.” Hammer Strike called out, his face blank.
In walked Promethean Flame, a stuck up unicorn who seemed more interested in the clouds than the one he was talking to. He had a white coat with a pink streak, parted down the middle mane. He seemed to be in a more sour mood judging by what Hammer Strike could read in his walk and expression.
The door closed after he entered, leaving the two to themselves. “Promethean, what brings you here today?” Hammer Strike asked, his tone indicating nothing.
“Your poor respect for tradition.” The unicorn snorted. “Thestrals? A gryphon? What are you thinking? We are going to war, Hammer Strike!” The unicorn glared at him with a stare that would wither most others.
“Yes, we are going to war. What is your point?” Hammer Strike asked, his tone as flat as his expression.
“We are going to war with gryphons. Do you not think that maybe marching a gryphon into Unity might be just a tad dangerous?” The unicorn shouted.
“A gryphon from the Northern Isles.” Hammer Strike noted. “One who has sworn his loyalty to myself by his honor.”
Promethean Flame gave a short snort, “And what good is the oath of an enemy?” The unicorn yelled. “Thestrals at least can be bought. They are simple that way. But gryphons? How could you bring that feathered savage here?”
“That ‘feathered savage,’ as you stated, can provide more than you think you ignorant fool.” Hammer Strike replied, his tone shifting to a darker, more threatening tone. “And I for one do not pay for the loyalty of a Thestral, nor do I disrespect them.”
“What is there to disrespect?” The unicorn scoffed. “I do not know why the princesses have such faith in you, but this is an insult all the way back to Commander Hurricane and King Bullion.”
“They put faith in me because I am not a close minded fool.” Hammer Strike replied, his voice raised. “Unlike you and the others who think of your rank as something you deserve.”
“I am a direct descendant of King Silver Bar the Eighth.” Promethean said “I do deserve my rank.”
“Believe that as much as you want.” Hammer Strike said, not caring about ‘why he deserves it’. “To the point, Promethean.”
“You can not be parading your freakish underlings around Unity. The last thing ponies need to see is the face of the enemy as they are planning for war.” Promethean sneered.
“Fine. I shall not bring the enemy to the planning.” Hammer said. “I shall just bring Grif the gryphon along with Pensword and Lunar Fang, the Thestral.” He said, his expression hardening. “Is there a problem with this? I want to hear it.”
“They are the problem!” Promethean waved his hooves as though this should be obvious.
“I have yet to find a knife in my back.” Hammer Strike responded. “Now, before you say something you should not, I would suggest thinking very, very carefully what you say next.”
“Says the pony who does not think how he shall act!” Promethean shouted.
“Promethean, enough of this!” Hammer Strike said aloud, his hoof hammering his desk. “You have done nothing but insult me and those who serve me.”
The unicorn stopped, taken aback by the earth pony’s shout, or the closest he had come to shouting, which was just louder than he normally spoke. “Just get the bat bird and the featherbrain out of Unity.” He finally spoke.
The temperature in the room seemed to spike for a moment. “What did you call them?” Hammer Strike asked darkly.
“The bat bird and featherbrain.” Promethean repeated.
Hammer Strike glared at the unicorn before him. “Promethean Flame. Leave this building at once.” He spoke, his tone dark and defensive. This was an order, not a request.
“How dare yo-” The unicorn began.
“Promethean! You have done nothing but insult myself, my servants, and my house.” Hammer Strike started, his glare hardening. “You are to leave this building at once. You are not welcome here!” He yelled at the unicorn, his glare burned with a barely contained fury.
The unicorn backed off, showing fear for the first time. In a few moments he was out the door and gone, the guards having burst in, taking him out of the building in mere moments for his safety more than anyone else’s.
Hammer Strike once again sat in his empty office, his breathing long and heavy as he tried to calm his nerves. For the first time in ages, he saw something he had nearly forgotten.
Embers.
Pensword blinked to clear his vision as he woke from his impromptu nap and looked around. The garden was bathed in twilight and Lunar Fang lay resting at his side. He smiled and leaned in to her side, breathing in her scent before he kissed her lightly on the forehead. Then he turned his head only to see Grif standing there and smiling. “Yeah, we look cute.” He muttered happily. “To think, Moonshade really did get caught up in our insanity and is Lunar Fang. That makes me happy.”
“Good. I think we both deserve a little happiness right now.” The gryphon chuckled as he brought out a tray. “Figured you’d get hungry.”
Pensword blinked and smiled a little. “Yeah, I am a little hungry, though I hope there is enough for Lunar Fang as well.”
“I’m sure there is. How are you feeling? I know getting those memories back can make you dizzy for a bit.” The gryphon laughed.
Pensword looked at the horizon and blinked a few times. “I am sad. I am horrified. I am fascinated at the tech of both worlds, the life I have lived in both worlds.” He sighed and looked to Grif. “I do not know. I want to bring the tech of my old life to Equestria, the ease of communication and travel, it can bring society closer together, just… I also see the turmoil that weapon can cause.” Pensword paused and smirked. “I wonder how humanity would do when given magic to play with.”
“Probably not well. I mean we kinda failed with the atom, and nuclear energy.” Grif shrugged.
Pensword paused and smiled a little. “I don’t think we failed. We are just pushing the edges a lot more than Equestria.”
“Our greatest move for two nigh infinite energy sources was to blow stuff up, other humans for the most part. To me, thats a failure.” Grif shrugged.
Pensword looked at his friend. “To me it saved my life and my father’s life. the lives of my uncles, and my grandfather’s life. As well as the life of my Grandmother’s uncle.” He looked to Moonshade a little and smiled. “Just think on that. If we did a normal invasion, my grandfather would have died most likely. Meaning my father and siblings would not be born, he would not have met my mom, and I would not have been born. She would not meet me, and a wedding in the future would not have happened.” He shook his head. “But that is an old hat for you and I, is it not?” He chuckled and sighed. “It is good to have you back, Taze.”
“Same, Vulpix.” The gryphon smiled using the old nickname. “Still, tomorrow, a whole other can of worms opens.”
Pensword nodded his head as he frowned. “Tomorrow is going to change the world and bring the respect that Thestrals need and deserve, as well as making a big impression on Luna, I believe.” He sighed and smiled as he nudged Lunar Fang away. “Come on, we need to eat. And let us use this moment for an impromptu date.” He smiled and looked to the sky. “I look forward to when Luna gets her sky back to looking like this, but then again, the Crystal Empire is busy. Look at the borealis in the sky tonight.” he looked to Taze and gave a whistle, a trait that as a human he could never master.
“First thing we do when we get stable, we’re going to take a vacation.” Grif said. “We’ve fought three wars. I think Equestria owes us some downtime.”
Pensword only smirked and it was Lunar Fang who responded. “I think they will owe us what a human calls a Honeymoon.” She smirked and nudged Pensword. “I remember you talking about that before all of this.” She said, sweeping her hoof through the air.
“Well I’m going to leave you two love birds to talk. I got some reading to catch up on.” Grif said, turning to leave.
Pensword must have surprised Grif when he only smiled. “Okay, you take care and don’t worry we will have a nice dinner and that is about it. Though I will need a best warrior for the wedding and you are one of the best I know.” Pensword hoped he had said it in a way that meant that he was just trying to be friendly after the whole almost killing a friend in a fit of rage thing a few days ago.
Grif stopped for a moment. “It would be an honor.” He said, looking back and smiling. Then turning, he headed inside.
Pensword was radiant as he set out the dishes for the impromptu picnic, laying out the simple peasant spread. Just the two of them together. They were silent for a time, then he looked to Lunar Fang. “I still prefer Vampire Bat, but this is still tasty.”
Lunar Fang just looked at him and smirked. “Needs Garlic.” She muttered.
Pensword walked into the house about half an hour after the end of his impromptu date with Lunar Fang. It was dark now and as the staff was going about lighting candles, he looked around in confusion at the rather strange atmosphere that had descended upon the inside of the house. He found a maid who was, of all things, shaking as he slowly walked up to her. When he cleared his throat he was shocked as she jumped at the noise. “Uh, what has occurred? something seems ... off at the moment.”
“L-Lord Hammer Strike has just dealt with a guest, all we know is that one moment the guest entered, he yelled, and the guest was escorted out by guards.” She responded.
Pensword stood for a moment, blinking while he processed that statement and what it could mean before sighing. Then he turned around and walked to the stairs. The silent pointing of hooves led him to the door of Hammer Strike’s office. He knocked once and opened it afterwards. He took one look, saw the embers rising from Hammer Strike’s body, and spoke. “Alright, what happened?”
Hammer Strike looked up from his letter as he sighed. “A noble visited and spoke his mind.” He responded.
“You let him anger you?” He asked. “What, did he insult us?” He could guess something was directed either at him, Grif, or both. “Because whatever it was he said I highly doubt it should anger you.”
“I would prefer not to repeat it. Let us leave it as is. He spent his whole time here insulting myself, you, Grif, and Lunar Fang. He was shortly after removed from the building.” Hammer responded.
“Let me guess, he called me a bat bird?” He saw Hammerstrike grimace and of all things, Pensword laughed. “Trust me. Coming from the Unicorns, it is an insult and made to be very ill worded. However, let me tell you what my mother said. It is a name that means that the pony does not hide his mixed heritage. For me, my gramma taught me that a Bat Bird is a pony of boldness who is strong and willing to accept their ancestry.” he smirked. “Doesn’t make the sting stop hurting, but it hurts for a lesser amount of time.”
“You may hear it as such, but I have heard it as an insult for the entirety of my time here.” Hammer Strike replied. “Always an insult.” He sighed.
“So hearing it applied to your friend, who is literally a bat bird, set you off. Trust me I had a magic test on my blood done at the Military academy in an attempt to get me expelled. I have whatever it is that shows bloodlines of the tribes.” He paused and chuckled. “Actually, I have Unicorn markers, Earth Pony Markers, Thestral Markers, and Pegasus markers. Based on colors the paper turns when blood is applied to them.” He shook his head, “When we get back I want a full blood test for my ancestry markers.” He paused as the gravity of what his friend had just said fully hit him. “How long?” Pensword asked bluntly.
“Please do not make me answer that again.” Hammer replied after a pause. “It was long enough.”
Pensword stared Hammerstrike down. “Imagine the hurt I realize I caused you when I did not recognize you, and even bowed to you as a normal citizen of Equestria would have done when I was young. Thinking back to the past I was fully ready to live and die a life here in the past, never knowing my greatness or the heritage I truly have. Yet I cannot and I shall not deny my heritage here. I know we have to stay and fight, but given the choice, I still would stay and fight. You look as you did back then. How have you remained unaged?”
“I have my ways.” He responded. “I made sure of it.”
Pensword looked deep into hammer strike’s eyes. A hurt expression crossed his own muzzle and eyes. “Why? At least tell me why you are avoiding this topic? Afraid to hurt my feelings? Have me look at you differently? I assure you after… Look, you tell me this, and I shall tell you why I was there, how I know what I did.” He paused and did not look back at his face. “Your eyes look so old. Then again, so do mine.”
Hammer Strike muttered something as he sighed.
“Please say it again or I shall mutter my answers as well from now on. Please, my ears are ringing a little.” he said, trying to make a joke. It fell flat.
“I waited and worked for thirty six years.” Hammer finally said aloud. “As for how I did not age, I had to use a golem while my body was placed in a moment in time.”
Pensword just looked at his friend before leaning forward and wrapping his hooves around Hammerstrike’s neck. “I am ... we have suffered this time around. But I can say we are together again as friends and as a full team. I think those Gryphons will not fully realize just what they will have happen to them now that we have something to put all our attention on.
“Yeah. It is nice to have you both back.” Hammer Strike replied.
“I shall be honest,” Hammer Strike said. At the moment he was seated next to Celestia in a small dining hall, though it was still large enough to hold an extra ten ponies. For now it was just the two of them. “Yesterday could have gone better.”
“I take it you had a visitor last night?” She asked. Her tone of voice light, calm, and inquisitive.
“An unpleasant one. But that was bound to happen.” Hammer Strike replied. “Promethean, once again.”
“I am sorry you had to go through with that.” She said. “His family is low on the ladder, but too old to simply remove. I will talk with his cousin and see if she can’t keep him away from you.” Celestia assured him.
“As said, it was bound to happen. Though he did not tread lightly this time.” Hammer Strike said with a sigh. “Most of the nobility here always have something to say. But enough on that. How has your day been so far?”
“Long and exhausting. I had to rise before the sun today getting things organized.” She said. “Planning both the reception and the security for the reception.” The princess sighed.
“Such things do take time. But at least you finished them.” Hammer Strike paused. “When do you expect Luna to return today?”
“By midday if everything goes well.” Celestia said. “Her trip was peaceful, but the kings were less than hospitable hosts.”
“Due to their actions in the past and currently, I would assume so.” Hammer Strike replied. “At least she is returning home safe.”
“Yes, she is at least in Equestrian borders.” Celestia nodded. “But I would say she is still in danger.”
“Always keep an eye out.” Hammer Strike said. “For you never know what lurks out of sight.” He sighed. “I have a feeling I am going to hate this meeting.” Hammer said. “But I hate most meetings so it means nothing really.”
The unicorn guard was covered casually, the cloaked figure above it moving quickly to hide the body while his companions stood watch. The Gryphons had entered the pony city in the early hours before the sun rose, moving quickly and quietly as they were trained. They kept to the shadows and back alleyways, killing anypony unfortunate enough to get in their way. The emperor had been very blunt about this contract. it was success or death if they got caught. And if they were killed they would not be acknowledged by the empire. However, if they succeeded, then Equestria’s power would be broken, making their war all the easier.
Daggers, talons, and darts were their weapons of choice. Quick, silent kills leaving nothing to reveal their presence. They were Black Tips, Gryphonia’s deadliest killers. And today they had the largest job in the planet's history. Today, they would slay an alicorn. From the large back alley they could make out the broad street by which the princess would be returning to her home, the point where she would be most open. Plans had been worked on for weeks for this one target and they would show the ponies their princesses would fall like the rest of them. The leader looked to the sharpshooter carefully. “You have the Fires of Tartarus?” He asked, referring to the poison.
“Yes, it is ready in this sealed bottle.” Another of the cloaked Gryphons replied with a verbal smirk. “Let me know when you wish to have it ready and it shall be done.”
“We have only one shot.” The gryphon reminded him. “Do not miss.” The Fires of Tartarus was a rare poison distilled from the bloodflower that grew in the depths of Tartarus itself. Many gryphons had died in the attempt to retrieve the one flower they had gotten. The poison distilled from the flower burned the being injected with it from within their own internal magic field. The larger the field, the more powerful the burn would be. It was well known that alicorns had a magic field many times larger than other living beings save for very old dragons. The gryphons were sure the poison would be able to kill the seemingly invulnerable ponies. “Do you see a good roost to make your shot from?” The gryphon asked.
He looked to a small apartment window. “I can make the shot from up there. The porch is covered. I will be well concealed. I just need it cleared of any of the ponies who are living there. Let their sleep be eternal tonight.”
The gryphon nodded signaling the others to follow him, conveniently the building had an open ground level window. it took moments for the entire party to enter the house. Before dawn’s first light everything else in the house was dead.
The meeting hall was full to bursting with grumbling and bickering nobles all seated around Celestia in terms of their actual importance. While war was now unavoidable, many of the nobles had figured the best approach was to simply try and wait it out, hauling the ponies they deemed as important into cities and towns and fortifying them until the gryphon army lost interest.
Traditionally in the such a meeting it was customary for no one to be armed. As many as fifty nobles populated the room and none of them carried anything more deadly than a quill. However, much to the chagrin of her guards, Celestia had made one exception for Hammer Strike and his two aides, who had refused to disarm vehemently.
Grif sat behind Hammer Strike’s right in full armor and weapons, looking around the room of nobles with a mixture of boredom and disgust. He clacked his talons casually against the stone floor as he waited for things to be called to order.
Hammer Strike looked bored, as usual. At the same time he was evaluating those around him, specifically the nobles who were supposed to be of high rank arguing with one another. Jokingly he thought of the fact that they might be arguing about who got a better seat.
Pensword looked at his stack of the parchment and at the other noble houses. He gulped, a little nervous. He was going to be one of the key speakers on the state of affairs at the border. He shivered, hoping Moon-, he allowed a small smile, he meant Lunar Fang, was going to meet Princess Luna. He moved a feathered wing to touch the blade at his side. He moved it away as he looked back to the stack of parchments, tuning out the arguments and causing his mind to compact it all into a small box that he could then ignore whenever he pleased. What worried him was the absence of two noble houses, one of them being the Hooves, whose barony was what had been his birth town. Taking a deep breath, he stood calmly, forcing his worry into a pit in his stomach as he waited at attention.
“SILENCE!” The royal alicorn voice echoed through the room as Celestia attempted to gain order. “Is everypony present?” Celestia asked.
Her Senscenail at her left looked at a roster. “Nay, your highness. We are missing the complete house of Hooves and the house of Red Feathers, As well as thine Sister, who shall arrive later. However, Red Feathers have been missing for a month, presumed victims of the Border crisis.” She looked to her right at the Princess. “We still have quorum of all the nobles houses to begin.”
“Send a messenger to house Hooves. On second thought, send a guard.” Celestia said. An aide left the room who was standing near the doors to relay messages at a moments notice. The other nobles waited to see what Princess Celestia would say next. Would they wait for word or would they start now?
“Now, esteemed nobles of Equestria, as you already know the gryphon empire known as Gryphonia has declared open war against Equestria.” Celestia said. “What you are not aware is that they have already breached our borders.” Celestia paused waiting for a reaction.
The chamber erupted in noise and shouts and murmuring most of it being of the effect that it was a lie that they wouldn’t dare attack before the declaration. This and many other conversation were feeding in on itself to a frenzy.
Celestia waited for a few moments before banging a hoof on the table again. Placing it over the metal plate made for that one purpose. The banging slowly quieted the room again as they looked at their Princess. She could see the looks of all the nobles. They wanted proof. Celestia looked to Pensword. “Lieutenant Pensword, if you could please give an account of what you and your squad encountered?”
Pensword stood up and saw all the heads of the nobility look his way. “Due to events that are currently classified, I learned of an event that occurred in the mountains of Hurricane Peaks where a small settlement was created fifty years ago named Mountainside Falls.” he grimaced. “We force marched there in three days from the training post under Commandant Supreme Sunrise’s command. What we found was the looted burned remains of the town. All citizens were either carried off captive or…” He gulped and steeled his nerves. “Partially eaten as prey.” He blinked back some tears and continued. “The maps captured shows a breach along every major mountain pass, valley, and river that dictates our natural boundaries. My unit combined took out seventy Gryphons.” he looked at the notes and back up at the room. “Any questions?” he asked almost on habit and paused and bowed to Princess Celestia. “If that is your wish, your majesty.”
“Amongst these maps there were other documents pointing towards something darker with the captured ponies.” Celestia paused steeling herself. “They are eating captured ponies.”
Pensword nodded. “My findings found the remains of Barons Happy Hooves and Steel Hooves in the commander’s tent’s mess table.” His verdict tipped the room from shocked silence into an utter uproar that Princess Celestia knew she could not reign in. The shock that they were eating ponies, including nobles, was causing a state of panic to almost bring about utter chaos. However, a few houses were whispered in quiet conference before a loud voice boomed.
“House Hurricane wishes to speak.” Storm Hurricane the second stood and there at his side was the freshly minited Captain of the military, Storm Hurricane the third. The voice shook the Room still as one of the founding houses spoke. He waited for the voices to reduce to a dull whisper before he spoke. “Before any nobles shall try and destroy this pony’s word, it is with the request, Princess Celestia, to adopt orphan Pensword into our house and into my blood line directly. As both barons are dead, Pensword is without a house. Therefore, I move for the adoption to allow his presence to remain.”
He glared at House Sapphire as the matriarch stood to speak. Her voice rang through the hall. “I move for his banishment from Unity. That, that pegasus is trying to rile us up. What if it was some Thestral attack on that poor town?”
Hurricane the Third thundered. “That is complete Pony Feathers! The thestrals were protecting that area. Steel Hooves’ forceful eviction allowed a net to open for those creatures to cross over.” He shuddered, a mask of horror consuming his viage. He spoke next in a hollow voice. “I was part of the cadet command who evacuated the post. Intel said they were going to attack us. We slipped out through a pass. However, we saw the remains of a caravan partially scavenged. We do not know how we got out, but by Faust’s good fortune we did. I was sent here with that information. Commandante Supreme Sunrise and troops are fortifying the frontier town of Seaddle. Hopefully we can hold them off there.”
Sapphire looked like she was about to rebuke the Hurricanes for speaking out of turn when Celestia intervened with a bang of her hoof.
“I am afraid talk of banishments and adoptions will have to wait.” Celestia said. “This is a council of war, gentleponies. We are at WAR. There are no longer any fancy labels we can put in front of it. We are to fight or be eradicated. I, for one, plan to fight.” As Celestia spoke a purple sheet slid off the table behind her before her magic encased and lifted a massive bastard sword forged out of polished steel. It reflected the sunlight powerfully into the room. Carved out of a topaz at the hilt was Celestia’s cutie mark, the sun. “I am not here to ask for your help. As is the right of my crown, I am here to demand your allegiance and your backing as we defend our country and our way of life. As of this moment your choice in this matter has been removed. Is that clear?” Celestia’s eyes glowed brightly as the air around her warped and shimmered.
Lunar Fang scanned the area carefully. If what the history books said held true, Luna’s attacker would be coming from a westward angle. The Thestral ran over the area once more. The sound of many hooves marching in unison thundered through the street. Tracing possible lines of fire, she eyed a conspicuously open window. Conspicuous because it was the only window of the building not covered in a black curtain. Her view was obscured as the royal procession began to walk past her. Fifty well armed grey unicorns, each dressed in dark blue armor and bearing a banner of the moon, marched past her. As Luna’s chariot began its approach, Lunar Fang’s eye caught the glint of sunlight shining off a tiny protrusion. In the audience, several cloaked figures stood at attention, their eyes glinting. Their stance bespoke a rigid military bearing, too still for the casual onlooker.
Two stories up Lunar Fang’s gaze locked on the glint in the mid-day light. She cursed. “A blow dart, and a rather fancy one at that.” she muttered under her breath. Her guard training kicked into gear with one thing on her mind: Protect Princess Luna. Without a second thought she snapped her wings open. Before a Unicorn could react she charged the window and the veiled assassin she knew lay hiding in the shadows . The pipe moved to face her and she ducked to the left as the dart whistled past. Moments later the veiled windows shattered as over twenty five cloaked figures charged the guards, some from the building, others from the crowd. Lunar’s face was grim. Her suspicions had proven correct. Flapping her wings, she immediately got airborne. The assassins would be too busy with the unicorns to go after her. At least she hoped.
The unicorns cried out, some in pain, others in shock as they engaged the enemy. Lunar Fang soared through the open window, dagger drawn. She immediately retracted her wings and rolled downward. She could feel the displacement of the air as the enemy’s blade passed over. Without slowing down she headbutted the assassin. She was thankful to be wearing her armor as the weight knocked the wind out of the enemy, throwing him to the ground with his wings flailing. A well placed armored shoe soon ended the would-be assassin’s life. She spun and kicked another form that lunged at her, knocking the cloaked figure back. She heard something smash before screams filled the air. She turned around as the air was suddenly rent by the sound of thunder. As she moved onto the porch she could see the remaining attackers lying dead in the street. Luna’s horn glowed a billowing blue as she snorted in rage. Up and down the road ponies who had scattered for shelter were moving out of their homes and alleys to see just what the tumult was all about. It was here that Princess Luna looked up to see Lunar Fang tossing the cloaked assassin over the banister. As the corpse fell the hood fell off, revealing the black dyed feathers on the crown of a Gryphon. She stood still even as she could see the six remaining unicorn guards aiming their glowing horns right at her. She remained calm, even as she wondered why the stories never mentioned her being threatened after her deed.
“Stand down.” Came the clear, commanding voice. It was a bit younger than Lunar Fang remembered, but most definitely Luna’s. “Cans’t thou not see this Thestral hath saved our lives?” Luna spoke, gingerly holding the dart in her magic. “Yon gryphon sharpshooter panicked when she charged. A few more centimeters and we would have been no more.” The alicorn said.
The guards all looked at their Princess. “No more? But thou cans’t not die,” one responded in utter shock; a moment that was forgivable due to the situation that just happened. Lunar Fang looked nervous and ducked back into the apartment to head down the stairs only to see the carnage left behind by the assassins. She exited into the main streets, not hearing the answer Luna had given to the guard. She stood nervously in her armor as she met the steely gaze of Luna’s guards.
“Why dids’t thou charge, child?” Luna asked.
Lunar Fang looked at the ground to show proper respect. “Thy life was in danger. Equestria has need of a leader more than it would the outcasts of the shadows.” She did not say that it was because she knew she would win. “If the rumors the lord that has hired me has let slip are correct, then my life would not be important in the coming battles. Thy life, however, is. Chaos would befall the kingdom with your death. I could not allow that to happen.”
“But thy kind are treated so poorly. Surely the life or death of a pony such as myself is not the business of a Thestral.” Luna said.
“It is if I believe the words of Lord Hammer Strike that the coming war is against every one of us four legged beings.” She shot back in shock at the words of Princess Luna. “It won’t matter if my wings had feathers or the leather of the bat. I shall be hunted along with the Pegasi by those invading from the land from whence thou hast only just returned. If my death saves your life at this point, so be it.”
“What is thy name, child?” Luna asked.
She blinked and looked at the hooves of the younger of the two Princesses. “My name is Lunar Fang, Princess of Equestria.” Lunar Fang said, her eyes still averted.
“Raise thy head and attend to me, Lunar Fang. Thou shalt accompany us.” The princess declared.
Lunar Fang jerked her head up. The guards stood stock still. She only nodded her head and bowed in acknowledgment before stepping to the princess’ side. She blinked as she realized that she was stepping into a role of history.
“Perhaps it is time we talked with our sister about your tribe. We believe it is time we give them a stronger role within Equestria.” Luna smiled as they started for the castle.
Lunar Fang looked forward. “Then one of the Princesses shall have to give restitution for the grievances of the actions against our tribes in the past.” Lunar Fang replied, flat toned.
“As would be expected for a unicorn, pegasus, or earth pony. We are curious how your tribe was left out of Unity.” Luna said
“Because we were the first settlers and while most tried to include us, others saw us as a means to unite over and drive from their colonies. Pushed further and further into the outlands and away from civilization, I think part of it was because of our fangs and our ability to both graze and hunt.”
“If it is not too much to ask, how dost thou govern thineselves?” Luna asked
“The thestrals are governed by the council of chiefs for each of our separate tribal societies.” Lunar Fang said. “Major decisions must be agreed upon by a vote. A tie is broken by the grand chief, when there is one.” Lunar Fang noted. “But there has not been one for a long time.”
“Why? Would thou not simply choose one?” Luna asked
“The title can only be claimed by one who can both kill and skin an ursa major, my princess. Such a feat is nigh impossible. The hide is difficult to properly skin.” Lunar Fang explained. “Only one who accomplishes this task may claim the throne of high chief.”
“Interesting.” Luna nodded. “Tell us more of this Ursa Major.”
“Princess if we are to get a foothold in this war we need to slow their advance.” Grif spoke as calmly as he could, noting the icy glares of the nobles. “Your best strategy is to take Fort Triumph.” Grif pointed on the map. Fort Triumph was a fort guarding a narrow pass by the border, this pass was notably the easiest way to and from Gryphonia. “If you take this fort you cut them in twain, send a force to head off the oncoming and send another force to eradicate those within the border. You could never stop them at full power, but this way you stand a chance.”
Princess Celestia shook her head. “We have tried several times to take that fort during the last gryphon war. It is too well defended. The gryphons can keep bringing new troops against us and we do not have the ability to keep throwing ponies at them…..”
Further conversation was cut off as the door opened suddenly and a unicorn ran into the room. “Princess Luna has been attacked!” he cried.
“We shall discuss this later. For now this war council is in recess. Does anypony have a problem with that?” Celestia’s face was placid, but her eyes sparked with an inner fire. No pony was bold enough to object. “Good. Take me to her.” Celestia ordered the guard as the two barreled from the room. Grif took to the air and followed after them.
Pensword paused, looking at the maps. He stood there, studying them, moving a wing along paths, making circles or jabs at the papers. However, he knew he was missing key elements. He looked up and across the table seeing a sight only he could see. His mother smiled and opened her wings as if to say ‘what about us?’ Pensword smiled and turned to one of the guards. “I request an audience with Grif and the Princesses. I have an idea that might just work.”
The guards were about to protest when Hurricane the Third walked up. “Do you think you can?” he asked Pensword. He nodded grimly. Hurricane turned to address the guard directly. “Well, you heard the pegasus. Lead us to the room. Or do you want me to report back to my father that you are hindering the much needed planning of Equestria’s defenses.” Pensword smiled as the guard moved and started to lead them through the halls. His friend, Hurricane, leaned in and whispered. ‘If my father gets his way you will have the weight of the house Hurricane behind your words. Others will learn what I know. When you say you will do something, you succeed. Remember the fort capture?” he asked with a chuckle.
“Sister.” Celestia moved forward to nuzzle Luna. “We were so worried.” Celestia spoke.
“Tis nothing, sister. We are fine.” Luna responded looking down to the thestral beside her. “This one proved instrumental in saving us.”
Lunar Fang, seeing that Celestia was looking at her, only bowed her head as required of the subjects of Equestria at the time. “Tis but what I am sure any of those in thy Kingdom would have done if they had seen what I saw.”
“You still have our gratitude.” Celestia said. “Rise, Thestral.” Lunar Fang did as she was bidden and rose to all four hooves, looking forward, not daring to raise her head to look at Celestia’s face. It was a custom of the past. She knew if this was modern Equestria she could, but not here. Not now at least. She remained silent while Celestia spoke, maintaining a composure of calm and respect.
“It has occurred to us, sister, that we have overlooked the Thestrals in Equestria.” Luna spoke. “I believe, if war is unavoidable, that it is something we must remedy.”
“The Thestrals govern themselves, sister. I do not see how we can do anything when their leaders will not even speak with us.” Celestia noted.
“Well, have you tried?” Grif’s voice cut in, approaching from behind.
Lunar Fang stiffened in shock and fear and looked ready to attack at the sudden interruption. These were not the Celestia and Luna of a thousand years hence, they were different, she thought, and so merited caution. If they moved to hurt Grif, she would interfere. For now though, she would have to wait and see what would happen. So she stood at attention, carefully gaging the mood of the room. A small part of her wondered if Celestia was going to let this pass due to Hammer Strike employing Grif.
Celestia gave an irritated sigh. Before she spoke she took a deep breath. “I will let that go because you are a close friend of Lord Hammer Strike, but watch your tone next time, gryphon.”
“The question still stands.” Grif said. “Have you ever gone to them? This isn’t like King Bullion handing you the power over the unicorns. These are leaders who have lead their kind for as long as they know by a strict code of tradition. Maybe Equestria should go to them.” Grif suggested.
“Even so, the Thestrals have kept their meeting place from me no matter what I have tried. Who would show a princess of Equestria where the Thestrals gather?” Celestia asked.
Lunar Fang shuffled but did not speak out of turn. She knew where the old meeting grounds were, yet she was not yet able to take them. She blinked as Pensword walked into the small antichamber with Hurricane the Third and a few guards. Almost the moment. Pensword snapped to a rigid stance and stared at the other wall as one of the guards spoke.
“Captain Hopeful Pensword has an … idea on how to achieve the impossible with Fort Triumph, your majesties. Do you wish him to speak or shall he hold his peace?” Lunar Fang realized that the Pony speaking was the Captain of the entire Royal Guard, or rather as war was declared, a General now in rank.
“Let us go to the throne room and then he will speak. Tell the lords to disperse for now until we summon them. And bring Lords Strike and Hurricane to me.” Celestia spoke.
The Captain gave a salute and turned to the guard next to him. “Go retrieve Lords Strike and Hurricane. I shall lead Captain hopeful Pensword and Captain Hurricane to the throne room.” The other guard gave a salute to the Captain and turned to fulfill his orders. The Captain then turned back to the Princesses. “The orders have been given. I await your orders to move to the Throne Room.”
“Proceed.” Celestia nodded.
The Captain of the Guard saluted and lead the group of ponies consisting of Celestia, Luna, The Captain of the Guard, Storming Hurricane the Third, Lunar Fang, two more guards, Pensword, Grif, and right before the doors Lords Hammer Strike and Hurricane. Celestia opened the doors and entered. Once they were all inside she slammed the doors, the locks audibly clicking into place as her horn glowed.
Celestia and Luna took their places at their thrones before looking down. “Speak Pensword.”
“Your Majesties, what I propose is simple: a siege from the forestlands. We dig in, blend in, and tunnel. However, to make it succeed I request that I be allowed to journey to the Thestral councils. I can navigate their meetings if they are like those of my Grandmother’s Tribe. I plan on subjecting the Gryphons with Nightmares for three weeks and attacking on the night of the end of that week. During that time we shall raid smaller camps, forts, outposts and caravans. Our hit and run tactics will draw supplies and energy away from the threatened cities and gives those you wish to command the fronts time to prepare and build up.” Princess Luna’s ear twitched. She noticed that his voice was laced with a little more emotion than one might consider wise. Being the Princess of the Night, she had a gut feeling that this was not just for the good of Equestria that Pensword had asked this of them.
“And you are certain this plan would work?” Celestia asked.
Pensword looked at the tapatries behind the thrones with a glare. “It will either succeed or I shall join my town in the Glades trying to disrupt this invasion. You only need worry about supplies and weapons. I have my men already picked out for the core… We fought the Gryphons at Mountainside Falls.”
“And you know where the thestrals meet?” Celestia asked.
Pensword paused for a time, then sadly shook his head. “I do not. I do know they will be meeting as called by my grandmother due to what happened in the borders. They will call a war council and that means if you wish to even have a voice the most adapt warrior should be sent to represent the nation of Equestria. Do not expect open wings. They will be tested.”
Celestia looked to Lunar Fang “What say you, Thestral?”
Lunar Fang looked forward, “What he says is true. The Warrior you send will be asked to complete tasks or a single task to compensate for how we have been driven from the caves of our homes. However, I may be able to help if I am to accompany the warrior to the meeting grounds to help guide them through any sticky moments. Pensword does not count. In the eyes of Thestrals he is as much a Thestral as he is a citizen of your realm. He cannot be your warrior. Though his words may help in allowing entrance.”
“If the princess of the sun cannot enter, perhaps they would allow the moon to attend this meeting?” Luna asked.
“The moon watches, and remains aloft of those that hunt by her light. If anything it will bring us to judge the Princess of the Moon fully. With two Thestrals saying thou art worthy to enter the halls and meet, they should allow thee passage. However, thou art also the warrior of Equestria. So it shall be thee who shall be tasked to atone for the actions of Equestria.” Lunar Fang responded.
Luna turned to Celestia. “Sister I will go to meet the thestrals. Perhaps they will be more willing to speak with me.” The lunar princess said rising to her feet. “Will I need anything?”
“Thou wilt be coming as a warrior. Wear your best armor and weapon to the meeting. Also if a warrior bares a weapon to thee, return the favor and bare thy weapon as well.” Lunar Fang replied as she looked to Pensword. The two locked gazes as she spoke. “Princess Luna shall have audience first. Then Pensword shall meet alone. That is how the meeting will go.”
Luna nodded. “Very well. I will retrieve my mace.” Luna said. “Meet me at the gate within the next two hours.” Luna said before heading out of the room.
“Very well” Celestia spoke. “Should you secure the help you seek I will allow you this siege, Pensword, provided House Hurricane will accompany you.”
The two Hurricanes looked at each other before looking at Celestia. “That will be acceptable. However, may we speak with thee on a matter in private?”
“In a moment.” Celestia said looking to Grif. “I would also like you to be present at this battle, Grif.” Celestia said.
“If I can help then I will be there, princess.” The gryphon nodded.
“Very well I will let you leave to get ready. I believe Lord Hurricane wanted to speak with me, and I would appreciate it if you would stay Lord Hammer Strike.”
Hammer Strike shrugged. “What am I to do then?”
“I am afraid your army is the only army fully prepared at the moment. I will need you to advise me on briefings and any extra training necessary for troops.” Celestia said.
“I guess I shall see to that then.” Hammer Strike said, shrugging.
Pensword blinked as he stood on the northwest corner of the parapet. He allowed the wind to blow across his muzzle to dry the tears he had allowed himself to cry as he remembered not just his Pony family, but his Earth family as well. He looked to his left and saw his father. It was here that he realized he had seen the two already before his time adventure. They were the images only he could see when the Black Tips had attacked. “I bet you liked what you saw, mom.” he muttered as he felt her presence on his right.
“My dear, dear son. I am proud of you no matter the form you take, even if it is that human form you miss so much.” She chuckled and it sent a trail of ice water down his heart and spine. “You know why you see us, do you not?”
“The open heart surgeries and accepting of my heritage as part Thestral?” he asked, but felt that there was more to it. “Also living all those deaths that night. I became able to see to help me not to go mad with rage and grief.” He muttered as his ears picked up another sound. “I am so happy she is Lunar Fang, she is going to do awesome in this war.” He whispered as he felt his parents vanish from his side. Another stepped up next to him to look out over the land. Three guards were present on the rampart with them. Thankfully, they were far enough away not to have heard his conversation with his parents. “Hello Lunar Fang.” He blinked and looked to his side before gazing back out. “This is a sight that I am coming to terms with. Beyond that wonderful horizon lies an enemy that is worse than any nation from Earth. And in a thousand years this land will be covered in thick, untamed forest that runs off its own magic. I am also trying to remain positive over the fact that they killed my family.” He took a sharp breath. “I am just happy you are here.”
“You can’t escape me that easily, human.” She said the last part in draconic. “How are you faring?”
“Not well. It is … hard to know that i shall not see my family in this life again.” He narrowed his eyes. “I already have resolved that my orders will stand. I shall take no prisoners. They showed no mercy to my family, to my home. My mother even warned them that based on their actions that one would come that would treat them how they were treated that day.” He paused and frowned. “Can you still love a soldier who does that? Can, can you still be friends with what I shall have to do to keep this nation safe?”
“I will love you no matter what. If you come back soaked in blood then I will be the one to bathe it off of you.”
Pensword turned and embraced her suddenly as he whispered the next words twice, once in Dragonic, “Thank you from Matthew.” Then he repeated it in Equestrian. “Thank you from Pensword.” he whispered, his voice cracking a little.
She hugged him back. “Together forever. Remember that.” She whispered to him.
Pensword only smiled and nuzzled the side of her muzzle as he drew away. “Of course. I look forward to forever with thee.” He pulled back and looked to the horizon once again. “The Gryphons shall not know what is about to befall them. I shall humiliate them at every single turn.”
“You will make them suffer for what they have done.” She nodded. “And show them that our people are worthy of being a part of Equestria.”
“You know what is funny?” he asked with a smirk. “I know this is the past, so I have the confidence that this will happen, that we shall succeed. And now, all we need to do is help reintegrate them when we get home.” He muttered as his ears twitched a little. “It seems a pony is trying to find us. Shall we turn and meet our visitor?” He asked as he turned to go.
“I’ll follow you.”
From one of the passageways, flanked by two armed guards, Princess Luna walked onto the rampart and looked at the two ponies. A strange smile formed on her lips as she walked forward, still wearing the same smile as she stood before them. “We do not wish to break up the budding of romance. Yet we have need of thee. And if a grandson of a Thestral wishes to as well, we must prepare for the coming trip to this council. We hereby request we meet to further plan this avenue of attack against the Gryphons.”
“Hold on a moment. You want me to prepare, how much armor and weapons?” Hammer Strike questioned Celestia.
“Enough for the guard at the very least.” Celestia answered. “I can provide steel and apprentices but I need you working on them.”
“Even then, I do not know how long it will take to do this.” Hammer Strike said, humming lightly to himself as he thought.
“We can not leave the city without a proper guard and the armories have been emptied as it is.” Celestia said. “With Luna away there is no other smith I know who could turn things we need so efficiently.”
“I shall see what I can accomplish there.” He replied.
“Anything you can do.” Celestia said. “Please.”
“When do I head out for Whinniesberg?” Hammer Strike asked.
The trip had been long and hard, the three ponies had been mostly quiet on their trek. Princess Luna had changed her form to that of a regular unicorn in the hopes of remaining unnoticed. An ancient mace hung by a leather strap at her side. The head resembled the surface of the moon with craters covering it’s head. A simple blue metal breastplate adorned her torso. “Is it much farther?” She asked as they walked onward. Pensword looked to Luna for a moment as he was pulling a cart with their supplies and weapons. A canvas cover was tied down to keep the contents from shaking out, as well as to pass through unmolested.
“I do not know. This is the first time I have been to this location. I know the signs of where to go, but not how far it is. However, I do recall that there is a small farming community near the meeting grounds where we can stay.” He paused. “I am not the first bat bird as thine subjects call me. The farm is mostly made of of those who were driven from their homes, or found in the wild. I am one of the few to have been raised in both Equestrian and Thestral Society.”
Luna nodded. “I have heard stories about them, but we were so caught up in other matters we never thought to look into how these ponies were treated.”
Pensword knew that Lunar Fang was more focused on the road and leading them to their destination than she was on the topic of mistreatment of mixed breeds. “I will say this, Lunamoon.” he found it interesting that Luna picked that for her unicorn name. “You shall learn with thine own eyes what they have built for themselves.” He paused and looked to the sky. “I have a gut feeling we are being watched.”
Luna grabbed her mace with her horn raising it carefully. But set it back in it’s place as a fox scurried by them. “Twas just a fox.” she noted “Nothing dangerous.”
Pensword only breathed out. “That is good. I am a little jumpy. We are heading to a place that if a wrong hoof happens, I could be ostracized by the Thestrals.” He shook his head. “However it is thee I am worried about Lunamoon. Follow Lunar Fang’s words to the letter.” He paused as they came out of the forested path and they blinked at the thatched roof with stone buildings. A very medieval village lay nestled in the valley below them. “Well, there it is. I recall them calling it Feather Village.” Pensword already could see both a blacksmith and what appeared to be a gathering open air building.
“It is quite a scenic little settlement.” Luna noted looking down.
“Tomorrow we will likely reach the meeting grounds.” Lunar Fang noted.
Pensword looked to the sky. “I am guessing we are going to stay the night at the village and continue tomorrow?” he asked Lunar Fang as they walked down the path to the village. The path, he could see, lead past some farms and a hay field. He noticed a thatched building that looked like a barn of sorts as they continued to trot forward.
“The villagers are friendly enough as long as you do not object to sleeping in a barn.” She said
“I do not mind. It will be a roof over my head and it will be nice to have a bed to sleep in, even it is straw for tonight.” Pensword muttered cheerfully, his mouth twitching a little. “I might even help in the fields, earn a little bit of staying here instead of out of charity.”
“It will do for the night,” luna said.
“That is good to hear.” They continued on the road till they reached the first farm and they saw an Earth Pony with the color of a dark Thestral coat and a mane and tail of pale gold. He was working with a pitchfork and paused to look up at the small group. He moved a little and they could tell that he was already being defensive. “Yes?” he asked.
“Excuse me, sir, but we’re heading to the meeting grounds.” Lunar Fang explained. “I am Lunar Fang, this is Pensword and that is Lunamoon. Is there by chance a place we could spend the night? We will work for our bed if need be.”
The Earth Pony paused and looked at the three before moving his head to the thatched barn structure behind him. “The Mares could help in the kitchen. You, stallion, I think can help in the field. There is a Pitchfork by the barn. Dinner will be at sundown.” he had relaxed and Pensword felt it might be that he thought they were being brought to the village as newcomers..
“Thank you for your kindness.” Lunar Fang responded as she signaled Luna to follow her into the house. Luna inclined her head in gratitude and followed Lunar Fang. Pensword moved to the barn, found the said Pitchfork and picked it up with his hooves. During that time The Earth Pony had helped to unhitch the wagon Pensword was pulling and was pulled it into the barn. Afterwards he pointed to a pile of weeds and a cart. “Mulch.” He muttered to himself. Pensword had just pushed the pitchfork into the pile when he heard a sound from the sky and a roar. He looked to the sky in awe and wonderment at the noise he was hearing.
The shadow passed over him first before he looked up to see bright orange scales shimmering above them as a large dragon flew overhead. The beast roared loudly, its head pointed upwards with the points of his four large horns pointed down at them.
Pensword paused. Looked to the dragon a few more minutes as it flew to the center of town. Down to his hooves, and the tool in his hooves. He sighed and looked back up. “Of course. Why not right now?” he asked the thin air before he started to gallop with the pitchfork.
“HEY!” the Earth Pony yelled as he came out, seeing Pensword running away from his chore with his farm tool and then he heard the roar again and he blinked and spun around. “Are you mad? You can’t battle a dragon with that!” he shouted but Pensword was not listening. He was racing and even starting to flap his wings to take to the air to catch the orange dragon. He had a momentary thought that if that dragon had a flame on its tail, it would look like a strange horned Charizard.
The dragon growled at him. “So they sent me a live sacrifice this time.” He said in a dark tone. The Dragon had turned around and was smiling. Crude, Pensword thought to himself. The Dragon knew he was coming.
“No, I am here to beat you. I saw your flight path and a dragon and a city and your tone has confirmed you are here for something that would cause grief and pain to all living here. It shall not stand.” His wings made a crack of air as they snapped from his burst of anger with the word stand. “Another village being destroyed for greed or hunger.” He gripped the pitchfork and glared at the dragon. He was hovering now but he hoped to be quick if he needed to be.
The dragon growled and turned his head as he snapped at him with it’s massive jaws. Pensword saw the attack coming and was about to dodge before an odd idea came to his mind. It was reckless, but it just might work. He held the pitchfork and let the jaws clamp down around him. However at the exact moment that he knew he would carry through he raised the pitchfork and hoped the prongs would hit the roof of the dragon’s mouth. He knew he could not hit the scales, so he went for what thought would be the only weak spot the dragon could have. He hoped that his taking the fort in the future meant he survived this plan. Pensword thought that he heard Lunar Fang screaming right before all sound seemed cut off.
The dragon’s mouth stopped it’s decent as the prongs began to sink into the roof. Pensword sat there on the tongue of the large serpent and he felt the trickle of blood dripping down on him. Neither one moved.
The two remained in a standoff. The dragon was careful not even to land lest the tongs go further. Pensword did not want to appear weak but he knew that if he did not do something soon, the dragon might come up with a plan to kill him before he could kill it. He paused as he calmly realized the dragon could breath fire or something. But why hadn’t it done so yet? Could it be that it would it be hurting itself if it did that? Pensword took a deep breath. “We are going nowhere. You kill me, I kill you. Neither of us wants to die today. How about I move the pitchfork down a little, let you land … and we talk out a truce?” He paused. “If you agree, stick your tongue out of your mouth.”
After a few minutes the dragons tongue slid out of it’s mouth. Pensword slowly lowered the pitchfork but the dragon knew any moves and it would be a struck through the throat. Pensword slowly breathed in and out to keep himself calm.
There was a loud thump as the dragon landed carefully on the ground. Leaning down, he opened his mouth. Pensword gulped and using the pitchfork to defend himself, he stepped onto the solid ground. He glared at the dragon. He did not realize he was covered in Dragon Blood.
The dragon rose it’s head glaring hard at the pony. He said nothing, just waited. Pensword looked the dragon in the eyes. “Why did you attack this town?” He held the pitchfork which was soaked in its blood. What surprised the dragon was this pony was speaking fluent Dragonic. An accent was audible but it was fully dragonic.
“I came for my tribute for living on my territory.” The dragon scoffed as he stared down at the pony standing before him.
Pensword narrowed his eyes. “Did the village know you were coming?” the pony responded once more in Dragonic. “Your path showed you were planning a big scare. And what constitutes your tribute?” Pensword was suddenly a little worried he messed something up. Was this the wrong dragon? he wondered.
“I chased out the feathered ones. I keep the feathered ones away. This is how things have been for centuries.” he snarled.
Pensword heard the sounds of the hooves behind him. “What say the villagers? How do they see thee?” he asked in Equestrian. “I am covered in your blood, I have a right to know the truth of this accord.” he finished in Dragonic.
“What are we supposed to do?” A stallion form the gathering crowd shouted. “It is a dragon!”
Pensword’s wings twitched. “Find out why he is coming to the village all the time?” Pensword’s words were deadpanned. He looked to the Dragon. “What is your tribute?” his voice taking a serious turn. “As for the feathered ones, are they quadruped but beaks instead of muzzles for mouths?”
“Yes, the feathered ones from across the sea. I could not fight them and hunt enough to eat. They provided me with meat or jewels and I kept the feathered ones away.” he responded.
Pensword looked at the Dragon. “What type of meat?” He asked, his tone suddenly flat. “Before you answer, the feathered ones attacked and devoured my entire village to where only I remain of those kin. Choose your words carefully or I shall plunge this very tool into your own two eyes.” He shook the pitchfork as blood spattered the ground, his voice still echoing in Dragonic. “They are coming to all the lands to see all those they see as prey eaten or reduced to stockpiles. That means no more tribute. And hard times are coming to all these lands.” He growled and shook the pitchfork. “So answer my questions.”
“These are kin to the night stalkers, are they not? I take whatever they offer.” The dragon responded. “Whatever they have.”
“What of their well being afterwards?” Pensword’s expression was hidden by his standoff with the dragon. He would not betray emotion to the creature. “What do they have to live on? We all need meat as well as hay. Unity and other traders demand higher prices here than elsewhere. You ask for what they have? What do you leave them so they can survive in the future?”
“I follow the contract.” he roared in Equestrian.
“What contract?” Another villager asked in confusion and shock as the scene had started to draw a crowd.
“They know not of this contract. Did you tell the rising generations why you came? Or did you expect it to be given every time you came?” Pensword spoke low in Dragonic as he continued to meet its gaze.
“It was expected that their ancestors would explain it to them” the dragon said.
“As with some things, a plague hits, or a death happens by accident. The second Gryphon War happened before Discord. You thought that Discord might have done something to make this? Chaotic mess is his motif and he loved to see ponies suffer under chaos that they could not control.” Pensword replied. “Expectations always lead to failure in the future.” He looked at the Dragon. “I feel a negotiation is in order to bring to terms a new contract. Is that not in my right at this moment?”
“It is your right.” The dragon admitted, grumbling.
“Then,” Pensword sat down with a slight smile. “I think as you are the protector, a tenth of the proceeds bartered would go to you. That includes coin from the merchants who set up shop. A dragon is allowed under this contract to look for those merchants that do not pay their tenth to be allowed to barter here. Trust me, instead of taking all they have each year, let it be a tenth. It may be small now, but give them means of growing what they have left and you will find your tithes growing steadily larger than they are now. That takes time. Time which you have plenty of, dragon.”
His face darkened making him all the more intimidating, the blood making him look all the more gruesome. “However, as the Gryphons will now be attacking, they shall come to this land in armies great and small. It Is here that I ask you to lend your wings to this war in helping. We plan on attacking a fortress. I would like your help in keeping reinforcements at bay. Your reward? All loot from those reinforcements and a tenth of the Gryphon treasures in the fortress. Anything Pony is off limits.” His face sneered. “To make it in terms you would understand, I lost my horde to them and I plan on taking it back.”
The dragon contemplated his offer for a while before finally nodding his head. “Very well, but I will require a healer.” He said.
Pensword nodded. “Of course.” he turned around and spoke in Equestrian. “Get me a healer for the dragon. And a scribe to record the new contract so it shall be posted on the doors of the town meeting places. This time, the contract will not be forgotten.” he turned to the dragon.
“The ponies are my horde, I lost my family and kin to the gryphons and I fight for all the lives I can save. I rashly attacked, yet it seems we both have gained from this encounter.” he was still harsh and looked at the dragon. “I also know that any dragon that meets me from now on shall know I spilt dragon blood, yet you live to see this day end. May we have a few stories to share and horde by years end.”
The dragon responded with a nod and a roar. “Send up a flare when you have need of me and I will come.” he said before walking towards the village.
Pensword heard Lunar Fang walk up beside him. “Well…. I got a dragon to join Equestria’s war.” he muttered. He blinked a little. “I need a bath.” he deadpanned. He looked to the Farmer. “Ten bits for the pitchfork. I think I would like to keep it.”
Grif marched with Captain Hurricane with his hood on. He had been receiving glares from the hurricane army ever since they set out and so far Hurricane himself seemed to be only passively aggressive towards him. “So...” The gryphon spoke trying to break the silence. “How come you haven’t just drowned out this base? Gryphons have a harder time flying in the rain then pegasi after all.”
Captain Hurricane the Second just looked sideways and decided to be honest. “Because the nobles leading the unicorn forces would have a fit if they had to fight in the rain and storms we wanted to bring. Another problem is their ability to flank the weather front and attack from above. If we could find a way to keep reinforcements from arriving, as well as keeping desperate Gryphons from attacking the storm clouds directly, it can work. At the moment it has not been feasible. If your friend does pull through, I will push to adopt him into the Hurricane clan as no Pony should be without a hearth to call home after the war.”
“Have you thought of shielding the cloud with unicorns and making it so massive and soaked that by the time the gryphons can organize to meet the downfall their feathers will be too wet to make the ascension?” The gryphon asked. “You have the advantage of magic and surprise here.”
“Noble infighting,” Hurricane muttered. “Besides the fortress was built during peace times and that large scale of an attack would have brought war and poor support from the population. we doubt that any noble could fund an army as well as appease an angry peasantry. We were also rebuilding from Discord’s ruin.”
“That was then.” Grif said. “If this leads to an air battle you know pony blood will be pooling at your hooves.” Grif said. “Hammer Strike’s army are all seasoned mercenaries, by all rights more skilled at single combat than most and they were not prepared.”
“That is why I asked you to come with me. I want you to leave training and help drill some of the cadre. We have little time and Pensword is trying a daring move that, if nothing else, will be a morale boost to the others. As well as buy us time to train.” He closed his eyes. “We do not plan to have an air battle. If Pensword comes back a successful diplomat, I shall personally pull all my pegasus connections to create that storm front. We shall drown them by the tears of heaven over the lost souls they consumed.” He paused and smiled a little. “It is usually my wife who comes up with the poetic imagery.”
“Then start now.” Grif said. “One squad collecting and melding storm clouds every day while we wait. A battle is won by those who are prepared.”
Hurricane smirked cryptically. “Tell me, do you see any Pegasus in your travels of my camp?” he asked and Grif slowly realized that he had not seen any for some time now.
“It seems I misjudged you.” Grif chuckled. “You are only half as green as I thought.”
“Which I hope shall vanish each passing day. I only wish I had Commander Hurricane’s tactical mind. I pray Faust protect our foolish endeavors and give us the chance at victory.”
“I would rather be a lucky fool than a dead mastermind any day.” Grif smiled. “I want your men maintaining their weapons and armor twice a day. You have engineers?”
Hurricane paused and let Grif enter his tent before entering after him. “That is already occurring. Ever since the letter arrived I moved from once daily to morning and night.” he paused and looked to Grif. “Why do you need engineers? I have them, but what do you have in mind?”
“How far can your best archer fire a shot?” Grif asked.
“Three hundred seventy trots.” Hurricane replied. “The archers in my military have the best range. However Gryphons, I heard, can shoot farther.”
In answer, Grif removed the black bow from his back and triggered the mechanism causing the bow to snap to it’s full size. “This is a gryphon bow. It is longer and has more draw weight then the highest powered pony bow, inscribed with runes to prevent unicorn magic from touching it. Too strong for a wing to draw, too awkward for a hoof to fire.” Grif explained setting it in front of the pegasus. “With this I can lop the head straight off of three of your archers before I am within even your farthest range. There are likely over a hundred of these on the walls. Every gryphon in that fort has been trained to fire one with decent accuracy. our siege is not going to last long if they can pick us off without getting close.” He noted before retrieving a scroll from his pack. “My Lord Hammer Strike has donated these schematics for what he’s called the Ballista crossbow. With these we can fire large pike sized bolts at their walls from safety.”
Hurricane smiled as he looked over the schematics. “I say that they shall start work on it right away. I hope to have at least three finished by the time word arrives on the status on this trip into Thestral lands.”
“Have you addressed your men about how they will respond to the thestrals?” Grif asked “they have been somewhat less than hospitable in my direction and while this is understandable, thestrals are less ... patient then I am.”
“I have addressed them. Also I await more detailed papers on their customs to see what I can do to help.” Hurricane smirked. “I did say that anypony who disrespects them will face Pensword’s judgement. And there are rumors that he took out five gryphons on his own during the recapture of his home village.”
“All myths are born of truth.” Grif smiled. “And I saw the bodies myself.”
Captain Hurricane grinned back. “I take it that there were more?” His tone indicated that he was not surprised. “I saw the fire and the pain in his eyes. He will achieve his goals. One way, or another.”
“And I will do everything in my power to help him.” Grif nodded.
Hurricane looked at a map. “So shall I. He changed my son to something better, and he wishes Equestria’s safety above his own. I shall be there as well.”
“So we have a rare opportunity presented to us right here.” Grif smiled “You are going to need some ordinary steel armor in my size, and some shackles.”
“What is your plan? Because that can be arranged. Sadly, the shackles more happily than the armor. Still, It will be granted. What do you have in mind?”
“As of yet the Gryphonians have no clue who Grif, son of Graf is. They could not tell me from another gryphon. Perhaps a captured soldier from a raiding party? Something to be used as a bargaining chip maybe?” Grif smiled.
“They will not know you are working for us.” Hurricane brightened considerably, his smile growing shrewd. “They shall never know what hit them.” He guessed. “It shall be as a discord storm.”
“I can get inside and you can demand anypony possibly alive in exchange. I can gather intel, mark weaknesses, even find a door or two to leave open.”
“Very well,” Hurricane muttered. “We shall work forward from this point.”
Out on a small hill in the early evening, Hammer Strike found himself lost in thought on what was to come. Celestia had entrusted him with this objective, though he found himself questioning his ability to do so. Making equipment is one thing. But enough for two cities? With their short amount of time he was granted some apprentices to help him work, but he had no idea of their skill level, and no idea how quickly they could work. He needed to think of a simple and effective design for the armor. Whilst it seemed like an easy idea, he couldn’t think on it much given he had no idea how much materials would be available.
The sound of the grating of wheels filled the forge as ponies began to enter with large carts of various ores. One pony approached him quickly, a small mare with a blotched coat of grey and copper coloured fur. Her mane and tail where a steel grey. “Lord Hammer Strike, Princess Celestia has made the forges ready.”
Coming out of his thoughts he turned towards the mare. “Ah, already finished?” He asked as he looked around for a moment. “I shall be there shortly. Just lost in thought at the moment.”
“May I ask about what?”
“How we are to accomplish this goal of ours, combined with trying to think of a design that would work for the benefit of speed, but still be made well.” He responded.
“Would it not work to have the armor made of individual parts a single pony or a team of two could craft and have everypony make a single part?” She asked.
“I have to evaluate the speed each of you are able to do certain parts before I can get that under way.” He responded. “I have not been told the skill each of you possess. Whilst I would like to think you are all skilled, I must be prepared should something not be accomplishable.” Hammer Strike responded.
“Forgive my boldness but would it not be the best way to find out be out with us?” She asked.
“I believe so, though it may be odd.” He said. “I have not worked with others for quite some time. Most of my projects I have done by myself.”
The trek from the town started early the next morning. The villagers had been grateful for Pensword’s actions, but were at the same time glad to see the trio off. The last thing they needed now was more action in such a quiet place. Over the next day they trekked through the foothills of the mountains. Just when Pensword and Luna were beginning to think Lunar Fang was lost, the thestral called a halt near a cliffside. “We will need to camp here till dusk.” She said.
Pensword only nodded his head and started to unpack some of the equipment they had for tents and rolls if they wanted to rest before dusk. He did not set up a fire, but he kept an ear tilted for any noises around them. He was still mulling over the events with the dragon in his head.
“Why have we stopped?” Luna questioned staring at the rock face, “It is just a solid wall of stone.”
“The sacred meeting grounds can only be opened when the moonlight touches the stone face. Thestrals are primarily nocturnal after all.” Lunar Fang reminded the princess.
Pensword only smirked and looked to the sky. “Rest now. Tonight will be an all nighter.” he muttered as he lay down on the mat and closed his eyes, slowing his breathing. “Enjoy the cool forest.”
The hours ticked by slowly and Luna eyed the area, somewhat worried at being so exposed. Finally, time came and the moon made it’s nightly call to Luna to be moved into place. As the lunar princess brought the moon up and the sun set the first rays of silvery light fell upon the door. As it did, much to Luna’s shock, the stone crumbled away, revealing a large entry hole into the mountain itself.
“Come on.” Lunar Fang said. “We must enter. Leave the tents. They will be fine where they are.” And with that she trotted inside.
Pensword quickly followed suit and Luna could only smile as she saw the love and care the two had from one another. She would have to craft a special night for them sometime. She was the last to enter the newly revealed cave as the pair followed Lunar Fang into the mountain. Pensword muttered something in Dragonic. “Into the hall of the mountain king.”
Behind the two of them the light of the moon passed beyond the door and the entrance vanished leaving only a thick wall of stone again. Luna lit her horn only for Lunar Fang to shake her head, causing her to put it out. “Just follow me. I can see well enough.” she said.
Princess Luna scowled a little but she complied and followed based on the hoof-falls of the road ahead; at least till her eyesight began to see shapes and she thanked her mother that she was an alicorn. She liked being able to see in dark places as if she was born to rule from the shadows. She shook the thought away from her head as she maintained her focus.
Pensword trusted his senses and while he was still part pegasus, he could feel something in the air that reminded him of his gramma’s tribe and camping for parts of the year around Mountainside Falls. He blinked hard and focused on Lunar Fang’s hoof steps.
They entered into a large cavern illuminated by glowing blue fungi. Thousands of caves lined the walls and thestrals flew between them chatting or selling or buying or simply living. Luna had not even been aware so many thestrals could be in one place at a time. They were always moving in small little groups connected to larger tribes.
“Name yourself.” A thestral spoke near the doorway. He was dressed in armor that seemed primarily made from plates of black onyx.
“I am Lunar Fang of the southern lion tribe. I bring a warrior from Equestria who wishes to consult the chieftains.” Lunar Fang spoke.
The thestral turned to Pensword. “And you? Name yourself, Moonkissed.”
“Moon Kissed Pensword of the Dream Clan of the Northern Bear Tribe and sole kin of the tribe Mountainside Falls.” he replied, his tone dark. He did not see the guard’s reaction.
“Elder Shimmering Star said you may show up.” The thestral nodded. “The manticore tribe weep for your loss.”
Pensword bowed his head. “I accept your weeping and am humbled as well.” he spoke politely. “May I ask where the Dream Clan is currently staying?”
The guard pointed with a wing to the ground, the tribal animals were carved into a shallow pit on the floor around the head of a larger bear with a star carved onto it’s forehead. “The bear clan resides in the north, of course. I believe the dream clan has been placed to the west of the rest of their tribe to allow them their grieving.”
Pensword nodded his head as sorrow washed over his visgae. “I only wish my first visit would not have been under such a sad day.” he looked to Luna and blinked. “Listen to Lunar Fang. This is where we part ways. Listen.” he finished and turned to walked towards his tribe. For a brief moment Luna thought she saw more than just Pensword trotting away and she blinked a little, realizing what she had seen. Alicorns could see the dead in some places and this place was a thin place. She looked to Lunar Fang for guidance. She missed the comforting feel of her wings in this disguise.
Pensword looked to his left and frowned. “I wish you were in the flesh, mom.” He muttered as he followed the directions he had been given. “West of the north star,” he muttered. A moment later he was embraced by a hug and he returned it as he embraced his gramma, soon to be followed by other members of her clan ... of his clan. His last home, the last tie to the familiar time of his youth. He had been holding it in for days now. And as he was led to their caves, he wept openly. This time there was no need to hold the tears back.
It had taken several hours to assemble the chieftains and their advisors. Drums were beat and horns were called and some instrument was played that luna could not fully fathom. To Pensword, he knew what it reminded him of as he sat with his clan while wearing black dyed cloth straps wrapped around his wings for mourning. It was the sound of the Australian Didgeridoo.
The thestrals, it seemed, had a complex system of government, Luna found herself noting internally as six thestrals took up a place above each of the animals carved into the pit.
Snarl Fang of the eastern vipers was an older looking mare. Her fangs were slightly overdeveloped where the tooth met the mouth giving her upper lips a slightly snarling and glaring look. She wore a thick black robe with a hood covering her head. Her wings had strange gold piercings on each side. A blowpipe rested at her side and a dagger of volcanic glass was holstered to her left foreleg.
Weathered Storm was the chief of the central manticore tribe. He was a large stallion with ornately carved onyx armor, his visible fur was dotted with both scars and puncture wounds. Rolled up at his side was a whip made from the bones of a manticore tail strung together, ending in the large barb.
Crescent Mane was the undisputed chieftain of the wolf tribe of the north eastern forests. the young thestral stallion stood, neither the tallest, nor the most intimidating of his tribe, but the most patient. Hides wrapped carefully around his body decorated with painted designs and beads. An axe hung at his side. Throwing knives of stone where holstered haphazardly all over his chest and a bow with a full quiver of owl feather arrows was strapped to his back.
Piercing Roar was the chieftess of the lion tribe, the number of which from the beginning of recorded time the thestrals could count with their front hooves. She wore an ebony pauldron and gauntlet down to her wrist and only skins besides. A massive shield was strapped to her other leg and a large spear was strapped to her back. Her eyes told a story of many battles both outside her tribe and in as she constantly fought off challengers for her title.
Golden Glint was a weird Thestral, he stood with a stare that seemed to go on forever and right into the soul of the unfortunate pony to meet his gaze. He wore an armor made from numerous chips of onyx placed together like scales. Crossed on his chest were the fangs of a dragon that had been slain in battle by the first chief of their tribe. At the thestral’s side was a club made from bone with a large chunk of stone tied to it. The weird thing Pensword and Luna both had a hard time not staring at was the strip of gold running down his mane.
Night Singer was the only Thestral to carry an Equestrian made weapon amongst the chiefs. The war axe hung at his side out of place amongst the armaments of the others. He dressed in ebony crafted armor plates. His eyes seemed to withhold a scheme in them and the mystery of this drew you forward daring you to jump into the abyss simply to glimpse the secret held within. Fittingly, he sat above a carving of a Fox.
The last was Star Cub of the northern bear tribe, the chieftess held the name as all of the bear tribe did in respect to the seat of the high chief. For the bear tribe stood by the lesser bear, the ursa minor, the tribe that had spawned the first chief to unify the Thestrals against the greatest threat they had ever known and set the traditions they held today. That chief had slain a great bear, an ursa major in his life, and it had become his mark. The high chief was tribeless to tradition, represented only by the great bear they slew.
“As is tradition.” Crescent Mane spoke up after everyone settled. “The wolf shall speak to you, stranger. Reveal yourself. You are not wearing your true skin.”
Luna looked startled and found Lunar Fang stepping back. She blinked once before she smiled cryptically. “Truly far and few ponies nor other creatures have seen through my disguise.” She closed her eyes and raised her horn. It glowed as magic akin to liquid moonlight flowed forth. And as it passed she slowly regained her original regal stance and posture. She opened her eyes as the magic dissipated around her hoofs. There, standing in the halls, was Princess Luna of Equestria.
“Know your species and your title win you no favors here, Princess of Equestria. You were allowed here on your merit as a warrior wishing to address us. Thestrals respect all those who will follow the warrior’s path, but we will not give you more than what we would give any warrior.” Crescent Mane said, responding to her change.
“Tis all I need,” Luna responded. She turned her eyes as she drew the weapon she had held concealed at her side while a unicorn. It was a mace that she dropped to the ground with a thud that echoed. “That is the sound of war on the borders. As we speak Gryphons are marching to deal to Equestria, and all who live, what they have done to Mountainside Falls.”
The wolf looked to the others who nodded before returning to her. “We are aware of the gryphon threat.” he responded.
“Dost thou know that they see thee as much prey as they see us? They wished to kill the keepers of the moon and sun with poisons harvested from the depths of the blackest parts of Equis.” She looked to each one of the chiefs. “Words do not show resolve, we, Luna Warrior and forger of weapons hereby ask what it is that can prove Equestria wishes to fight with thee as one united front against the darkest nights ahead. If ponies do not stand, more families shall find sorrow. More children will find in a day they no longer have a close herd. We stand together. We shall stop the bellies of the Gryphons for time eternal.”
“Suppose we were to observe these gryphons as they defeated you.” Piercing Roar spoke up, surprising Luna. “We would learn their tactics and then defeat them, ridding ourselves of them and of you. No more would our hunters be thrown in your dungeons for hunting on grounds we have used long before your kind came, all because your lords decide that they deserve them.”
“They shall then hunt thee as thine entire race hath hunted the rabbit. The Gryphons do not give up. They shall hunt and pillage and drive thee far from thine lands, more so and more brutally than any noble unicorn has in the past.” Luna shot back.
“We have the dark.” Snarl Fang spoke. “We have the night. We have the herbs and the plants whose poisons will aid us to victory. They would no more pillage us than your ponies have when they have taken our fishing lands for themselves.” She said. “You speak of war with the gryphons; yet our peace with you has stripped us of our lives.”
Luna looked at the Thestrals and around her surroundings before speaking. “In this chamber my rank and name mean nothing. It is as a warrior then that I shall say this. In Equestria, my word is law. No more will you be stripped of your lives. I shall make laws that will return thine rights of movement again in Equestria which were wrongly taken in the first place. These wrongs have continued beneath our very eyes and we have not noticed them. It is a shame and a slap of a wing to the muzzle for Unity and Equestria. I can only offer my sincerest apologies and seek to be your advocate from hence forth.”
Star Cub glared dryly at Luna. “Much you laws did for those of Mountainside Falls, much your laws did for those who grieve within the dream clan. Much your laws did as they burned!” The chieftess’ words grew in tone and force as she spoke behind her the rest of her tribe hollered in support and fury. “Tell me, princess. What of the ones who died in horror? Pain? Panic?” She roared. “We have seen the laws of equestrian princesses in action. And they have given us nothing. We have trusted you for too long!” The chamber erupted in shouts and hollers, anger and rage seething throughout the cavern. Luna took it all in and bowed her head in sorrow as she wondered how they could have failed these ponies for so long.
A violent crack filled the cavern, calling for silence to reign once again as Withered Storm stood, his whip in his wing. He eyed luna slowly. “Warrior Luna, you have come to us seeking help for Equestria. You have presented your case and it has been heard.” He eyed the other chieftains carefully. “We will convene and we will discuss. It is enough respect that you have dared to come to us on the eve the chieftains meet to discuss our reckoning with Equestria. We shall consider your plea.” He stomped his hoof. “We shall summon you when we have reached a verdict.” Luna only nodded and allowed herself to be led out of the chamber to await the end result.
“Moonkissed Pensword, you have come to address the council. Gather the stars and approach the family, child. And know that all here weep with you.” Crescent Mane called out.
He gathered up the stone stars that represented his family in this meeting and stepped forward. Bowing his head, he placed them in front of him in the order of those most significant to him. “Thank you for your words of comfort in my time of grief.” He paused and looked at them. “Chieftess Star Cub. To answer the question posed to the Equestrians here, as I am counted by census as a subject of theirs as well who holds rank in their military, I feel the horror, the pain, the panic, the fear. I felt their lives as they were extinguished one by one by Gryphons who treated all in the town as we would pick fish from the river.” He shivered and he looked at the gathering. “I ask. No. I come pleading for the strength of warriors. I have found where the Gryphon who ordered the death of my other half’s clan. He sits in a fortress that, yes, is a major objective of Equestrian safety. It is also a place where I wish to show the fury of the Thestrals. I wish to bring upon them what they have sown in our village. I wish to take their so called honor and hope and pride and sunder it to the ground.” He knew Lunar Fang was listening, but he did not care. The great Pensword that fought the great fortress for Equestria did so for one reason: Revenge against tearing his second family away from him. “The Gryphons who live there shall not live to see many more moons. I wish to have them meet their victims in the fields of beyond.” He bowed his head as he whispered the last part. “May I have only five from each tribe to help?”
Crescent Mane turned to the rest. There was a quiet mumbling amongst the chieftains which seemed to turn into angry whispers between them. With a sigh, Crescent Mane turned to Pensword. “As you know, there is no high chief.” He spoke. “Your request must be considered.” He looked apologetically down to Pensword. “We shall call you when we are decided.”
Pensword flared his wings and bowed his head in a traditional Thestral farewell. He left, leaving the stars where he had placed them to remind the chiefs of why he was there. Not just for him, but for the justice of those who no longer could speak.
Pensword walked into the small waiting cave and saw Princess Luna before looking back to the chamber, then to Princess Luna again. He walked up to Luna and to her mild surprise he spoke to her differently. “Warrior Luna of the Moon.” he spoke, his tone piercing and commanding. “There is a way around all of this: The seat that lay empty on the pedestal in the middle of the crescent pit. It is for the high chief. You may be able to become the high chief, but you will have to do the impossible.” He could see Luna’s eyes almost wanting to ask the question. “You must hunt, track, kill, and skin an Ursa Major, whose pelt is made of the stars themselves.”
“What do you mean?” Luna raised a brow. “That seems like something they would not allow an Equestrian to do.” she noted.
“The high chief dictates the rules and customs of the Thestrals.” Pensword responded. “Thou heard their respect to the warriors. Didst thou not see the weapons they carried?” He looked at Luna, her eyes questioning as she returned his gaze. “I shall not carry a weapon for my time of mourning. A warrior in mourning is more of danger to both himself and others. I wrap my wings in black cloth to signify that.” he raised a hoof, “This, too, is a weapon.” He shook his head. “Off topic. Another reason is that we Thestrals honor the moon. We hunt by the moonlight. We live by it. Thou art the one to raise and lower it. If thou camest with the pelt, many shall see thee returning to the warrior ways of our birth and that thou dost acknowledge the children hidden from thy view.”
Luna stood silent for a time. “You truly believe this will work?”
“Yes. It is the sign of one who can unite the tribes. And frankly,” he looked at the grounds. “Anything could help with what we as a species are facing.” He looked to the side. “Yes, Whirl Wing, I think she would make a nice high chief.” he said, speaking to the thin air.
“Are you well?” Luna asked.
Pensword jerked his head back to look at Princess Luna. “Yes, yes I am alright. Just ...” he took a breath in and let it out slowly. “I still see my family. I have a gift of the thestrals and that is really all I feel I can speak about it to one who is not in the tribes.” He smirked. “Consider it another part of learning of Thestrals. That is, if you do choose to follow through.”
“We swear, pensword. We cannot bring them back, but we will do everything in our power to make this right.”
Pensword nodded in agreement. “That is all one can ask of another in a time of need.” He turned his head and saw a few Thestrals walking towards them. “It appears it is time to hear the verdict.”
The thestrals had reassembled and the chieftains each looked angry and grim as Crescent Mane spoke. “Warrior Luna, Moonkissed Pensword, at this time the chieftains have decided that we are not ready as of yet to go to war. Regretfully, we cannot dispatch warriors until we are sure they are prepared.”
Pensword only nodded his head and bowed to sweep up the stars he had left, tenderly placing them into a saddle bag. He did not look at the chiefs. He only looked to Luna. “Meet me again in the chambers. I will need to see some others before we leave again. Don’t wait up for me.”
“Thank you for seeing me.” Luna called to them before she left the room. She followed Pensword’s directions and made her way straight for the chambers,her heart pounding.
Pensword moved to the side and knew that there would be a small adjournment before the next case set before the council. He smiled as he bowed to Chieftess Piercing Roar who paused and looked at him with a bemused smirk. “May I speak to thee in private? I have another question to ask that does not pertain to my request to the entire clans.”
“Come into my chamber and we shall speak.” The chieftess nodded, leading him slowly. Pensword slowly followed her to the meeting chamber for the Lion Clan.
The chamber was covered primarily in the skins of previous kills. Bones and fangs were mounted in various designs and patterns to give the feel of the wild and strength of the killer, a silent message of intimidation and warning. Black onyx cups and bowls were also common, laid out on large rocks and stones. Weapons, of course, lay on a rack in the corner. “What is your request then, Pensword?” She asked.
“Within your tribe, there is a mare that,” he shuffled a hoof a little. “That I have fallen in love with. I wish to ask for your blessing and permission to begin a courtship.” He looked up and steeled his nerves. “I wish to marry outside my Tribe into your Tribe.” He would, if needed, present the permission that his grandmother had given from the Dream Clan.
“And would I be wrong to say it is the Equestrian Lord Hammer Strike’s aid that you have fallen for?” The chieftess asked him.
“You are correct in your assumptions, Chieftess. It is the very same mare.” he knew he was treading on thin clouds here, but he wanted to show the nobles in Equestria that he would not deny his mixed heritage. He was as much a Thestral as a Pegasus in his mind.
“You are aware that punishments for any misconduct towards a marriage mate are more severe in our clan then in your own?” The lion chieftess asked.
“If I ever did misconduct I would willingly lay my neck on the ground for my marriage mate to do as she sees fit. I highly doubt I would mistreat her nor any of our offspring. As for any stallion or mare who threatens her, they will find my blade in their back.”
“And does this mare return your feelings?” She asked.
Pensword nodded his head. “Yes.” He said, his voice full of conviction and belief. “She and I share the common belief. And I would rather marry one whom I love and who knows what I have gone through than one who would use means of control to sever the last ties to my heritage and family.”
Piercing Roar considered the matter casually as she laid on her bed of skins, much like a large cat considering its prey. “Your grandmother speaks with pride that your first hunt was a bear.” The chieftess spoke. “This is true?” she asked.
Pensword moved a hoof to his neck. “I wear the eye tooth of a bear. Do I not have the right to wear a piece of the first kill? I carry this to remind me that any predator, no matter how fierce of mad of mind, can and should be handled. I am just lucky the arrow killed first.”
“There is a large she-bear roaming the forest north of here. she is without cubs at the moment. You will hunt her and slay her. Skin the bear and bring me the pelt. Give the meat to Star Cub and give a tooth to each elder within the bear tribe and you will have your permission.” She said, finally. “Is this fair?”
“It is fair, unless she is with cubs, at which point I shall return with a sketch of her form to prove I saw her. I shall not kill a mother about to have child.” His face darkened, “I shall not become akin to the Gryphons who attacked my village.”
“Then do as we have discussed. May the moonlight shield you from those that would harm you.” She spoke.
“And may the Moon’s rays grant thee wisdom and speed in battle,” Pensword replied. Piercing Roar waved a wing to show he had been dismissed. Pensword flared his wings and bowed to the Chieftess before leaving her chambers to start his hunt. First he would need to find some pelts to wear while hunting this bear.
Lunar Fang slowly approached the entrance of the chamber and looked nervous at being called to her tribe’s leader. A leader that to her history had been dead for over nine hundred years if maybe a little less. She stopped at the entrance, waiting to be called into the chamber.
“Enter.” Piercing Roar spoke from within. Lunar Fang slowly entered the room Piercing Roar eyed her like a cat looking at something that had drawn its attention. She blinked once. Lunar Fang stood, waiting to be addressed. In this situation she knew she could only speak when spoken to. To do anything more would be a show of disrespect resulting in dire consequences.
“Lunar Fang,” she spoke, “You are the aid to Lord Hammer Strike, correct?”
Lunar Fang nodded. “That is correct, my chief.”
“I have received a request from the bear tribe for the right to court you. What are your feelings on Pensword?” she asked.
Lunar Fang blushed violently. Her reaction had said plenty, but she decided to speak regardless. “I feel like I could walk on a cloud on a clear night. When he is near, I feel that I could fight a wolf bear hooved.” She smiled a little. “I want to be there for him, and I must admit His combat skills are impressive. He is simply amazing.” She bared her fangs. “I want to be there to help his grief as well.”
“And who are you?” Piercing Roar asked. “None of my tribe seem to know you.” She said.
“I am Lunar Fang, orphan from the Lost clan of the Lion Tribe. Lord Hammer Strike found me as a foal. What I learned of our customs and traditions came from mercenaries he hired and reports he would read on our people. Not even Lord Hammer Strike knows what destroyed the clan. All I know from the stories is that he found me in the ruins of a destroyed tent.”
“When did you perform your hunt?” She asked.
Lunar Fang looked at her chief. “I performed my hunt in the fall months on the estates of Lord Hammer Strike. It was a lone wolf who seemed to be unafraid of the ponies in the area.”
“I see. And I am guessing that those are its fangs in your shoulder pads?” She asked.
Lunar Fang nodded. “That is correct.” She replied.
“I am afraid I must ask you to hunt again.” Piercing Roar said.
“What do you wish for me to hunt?” She asked her with a raised eyebrow. “And where?”
“You will be leaving with Pensword when he heads on his hunt, no? Hunt there. Bring me a wolf if you can, but anything will do. Your first hunt was not under the observation of an elder so I must know of your ability myself.”
“As you wish, Chieftess of the Lion Clan. I shall hunt for a wolf, or another animal if I cannot find it.”
“May you be safe in the moon’s embrace.” The chieftess gestured with her wing that Lunar Fang could leave.
Lunar Fang slowly bowed, her wings flared. “And may the Moon’s rays grant thee wisdom and speed in battle.” She muttered before turning and leaving the chamber, leaving Piercing Roar alone to her thoughts.
“We have heard tell of this Ursa Major, but we have never encountered one. What is it like?” Luna asked the two as they waited by the stone wall for the moon to pass over as Luna was about to start raising it to let them out of the meeting grounds.
Pensword looked at the wall and pondered. “Like a bear the size of a small hill. It has a purple pelt.” He shuddered. “I never saw one, but the legends are passed through the tribes. They have a bright blue star over their forehead and it is said you can see the stars and skies of the days before the ponies came to these lands. Or another world’s sky, even.” He paused and gulped. “Claws that are as long as trees, a temperament that is fueled by anger if they ever leave the caves they live in. They are able to blend into the night and will sooner step on you then eat you with a mouth full of fangs as strong as diamonds and as large as mountain peaks. I have heard tales that they have two fangs that hang out of the mouth on either side.” he shook his feathers. “A image that could scare any predator out there.”
“Obviously, thou didst not learn to fight from Lord Hammer Strike.” Luna grinned in a fashion that almost made the two question her sanity. “As he would say: ‘that sounds like fun.’”
Pensword looked to Lunar Fang, an expression on his muzzle clearly read something akin to. ‘Just how long was Hammer Strike waiting for us?’ He did not know that Lunar Fang was thinking almost the exact same thought. Just when did he have time? Still Pensword knew now was not the time to be pondering such things. “Princess, from what little I have heard of Lord Hammer Strike, I do not know whether to be more impressed or slightly scared over this news.”
“When we first met him he was positively the most frightening caretaker we had ever seen. Still, he has taught us much and we are very grateful.” Luna noted.
Lunar Fang paused as the time was drawing near for Luna to raise the moon. “Wait, Caretaker? Lord Hammer Strike? But ... surely house Strike is not that old, is it?”
“We were not always royalty, Lunar Fang. When we were fillies we were simply alicorn children. The first time we met Hammer Strike we were but half your size.” She laughed. “The trouble we used to get into. We still remember when we tried to make our first dagger. It ended up being a spoon-like device that we have to date been unable to fully describe.”
Pensword’s left eye twitched and he did not say anything before Lunar Fang whispered into his ear. “I know, my thestral. You hate time travel.” Thankfully it was in a language Pensword could hear but not speak due to not having the vocals for it. It was the native Thestral tongue.
“So how will we track this beast?” Luna asked. Her question caused the two to fall silent and look to the door as she moved her head and her horn started to glow. She was raising the moon now to let them pass out of the cave.
“By finding signs of nature being angry and being very good at our job. Thankfully we do not have to track scat. Can you imagine droppings that size?” he shuddered. “It shall be by other means. Stars warping a little, ways that might be better felt they thee, star bringer. We shall find the signs on the ground. I feel thou cans’t find signs in the heavens.”
Luna nodded as they walked. She drew her mace and quite suddenly swung it into a nearby boulder with her magic. Dust and gravel shot into the air as the boulder seemed to simply disintegrate into the air. “Let us hunt.” She smiled.
Pensword paused, looked to Luna Fang, and blinked. “Faust protect us if we make her angry.” he gulped as thoughts of Nightmare Moon crossed his mind. He hoped that it was due to being half insane that things happened as they did. Still they would have to trek this entire forest in hopes of finding this creature. Hopefully there, he paused, there was time. This was his future and present, and yet, strangely enough, his past. They would find the creatures they needed to bring a happy ending to their lives.
The trail had been simple enough to find at first. Large footprints in the ground, torn down tree’s, the signs were far from subtle. However, over the next two hours it would seem as though a bear the size of a large building had simply vanished. The footprints were harder to see and the tree’s were untouched. It was near midnight when the three stopped in front of a large cave to take a rest.
Pensword settled down looking at the cave’s mouth. Then he looked to Luna, his princess that in his life before his memories returned, he had sworn allegiance to directly in his oath as an officer. He looked back at the cave. “If this was an adventure story, that cave would hold our query, or at least one of the three of ours.” He shook his head. “Then again, my father was a wordsmith so I could see the world different than it really is. Why, do you know to this day I still think some clouds are made of wool? Or that the stars were diamonds sprinkled into the sky by some long forgotten Alicorn?” He chuckled a little.
“Well perhaps we should take a look.” Luna said. “Truth, as they say, is stranger than fiction.”
Pensword looked to Luna. “Let me guess. As a subject of thine Lord Hammer Strike taught thee that saying?” He looked to the mouth of the cave. “Still, if we shall move forward, we must treat it as if it were the home of our subject.”
Luna brandished her mace. “Let us go, then.” She said with a glint in her eye as she slowly marched to the cave’s entrance. She lit her horn with moonlight as it showed only a little bit of the cave itself. As the others entered with her they found the light swallowed up by the darkness. There were no sides, no ceiling, only the floor. To Pensword it felt as though he were in one of the cathedrals in Europe. They slowly trecked down the tunnel, unable to really find a wall nor any other signs of much. He also felt like he was in a void between worlds, as if at any moment a door of light would appear and he would find himself in yet another alien world.
Pensword was so distracted walking with these thoughts swirling around his head he did not notice the terrain ahead.One moment he was walking on flat stone. The next, his hoof hit something, causing him to trip and stumble into a depression. He grunted as he got up and brushed some of the dust clinging to his fur from his tumble. “Please your highness, can you make sure if this is a footprint that I have fallen into?” He found an area where the ground had caved in, allowing him a way out as he heard Luna and Lunar Fang take to the air in the silence of the cave to look at the hole he had fallen into.
“It seems your instincts were correct, Pensword. This is indeed our target’s home.” Luna’s voice rang from the silence like the report of a rifle. He spread his wings in shock as he realized that he actually could have flown out of the hole. He grumbled at his own lapses of judgement and slowly rose from the ground to find that Luna had directed the beam to the floor. He shuddered. They had truly found a pawprint. He turned only to freeze as he swung a hoof up to point behind Princess Luna where a purple night sky was visible as it grew larger and larger, spreading to fill the ceiling. Then two yellow eyes opened in the purple starlight sky and the black pupils slowly focused on the form of the largest of three fliers in the cave. It moved forward a little more as it raised a paw.
Lunar Fang turned and screamed the words that Pensword was thinking. Behind you!” It was fast, and maybe a little rude to address the princess in such a casual manner, but a mouth was now opening to snap the Princess up.
Luna turned around just as the paw came for her. She had little time except to swing her mace. The sound of the mace impacting the paw was heard just seconds before said paw carried on to impact her comparatively tiny frame. Luna went flying into the caveside. The large purple paw, however, reeled back and was now hanging from the equally giant leg at an odd angle as the ursa major howled in pain and fury.
Pensword looked like he was about to charge forward only to have Lunar Fang dart forward and clamp her teeth on his tail. After Pensword was yanked back with a sound effect that he would swear sounded like a yoink he turned and hovered in front of Lunar Fang. His expression in the moon and star light said it all. “Why did you stop me?” Yet no words were spoken.
Lunar Fang shook her head and spoke softly. “Because Princess Luna did and has to do this on her own. Custom is that the killing blow and fight must be one on one. Our only job is to keep the creature from running or allowing any others to join in the fight.”
Penswords’ expression read one word, a word that Lunar Fang had grown used to seeing on her three friends. “Joy.”
Luna got to her hooves carefully as she moved to confront the Ursa. Her coat was covered in dust and her fur seemed to turn purple where blood leaked from her cuts. Pensword could see that she had been thrown through at least two rock pillars and left an impression in the wall if the light could be trusted. No time to get closer. The two ponies had to scatter as the Ursa tried to go after them. Still, the princess seemed undaunted as she charged. The beast swiped it’s paw again only for Luna to appear above it in a flash of magic and bring her mace onto it’s face. The bear roared in pain as its skull cracked from the impact. It thrust both paws at her, knocking Luna to the ground with a grazing strike. Any other creature and it would have ended there. However Luna was an Alicorn and could take more than a few hits like this. Luna was quickly on her hooves and struck again, her Mace swinging as she performed another teleportation attack. This time her blow landed on its chest, smashing it to the ground.
The great bear snapped its jaws at her as she moved to its chest, it briefly caught her wing and luna grunted before she hit it in the jaw again. Another crack and the jaw broke, hanging at an odd angle. Dazed, the bear growled, shaking its head. Luna her mace slowly, then her horn grew radiant, the cavern filled with white moonlight. With a mighty yell, her mace came crashing down on the bear’s windpipe, turning its angry roar into a choking gasp before she dropped her mace. Its metallic clang rang through the cave as Luna grasped the beast’s neck in her telepathic grasp and twisted. The head bent to an odd angle as the cave filled with cracks and pops. Finally, and mercifully, the beast’s body fell limp. It twitched a few times, then stopped. The beast gurgled, the windpipe so crushed it could not even utter a proper rattle.
The lunar princess stood triumphantly over her prey, her body bruised and bloody, her right wing missing several feathers. But while she may have been battered, she stood victorious. She struck an imposing visage, the glow of battle shining from her eyes as the light of the moon’s gentle glow surrounded her. She was inspiring, yet she fought in a way that almost made her look more like a Thestral in action and deeds, a hunter taking pride in her kill. It was something rather akin, Pensword noted, to those that hunted in Africa at the turn of the century.
Lunar Fang just stared from her rock ledge, pensword huddling with her as they watched the battle. Lunar Fang finally spoke, her voice dry. “Hail, High Chieftess of all Thestrals.” It was weak, tinged with fear. Yet at the same time there was an overpowering sense of awe and humble respect. She knew and saw the moment where Luna had cemented herself as a leader to all Thestrals and a Princess adored by those of the night.
Pensword gulped as he heard a sound from behind him. He knew it well. He was dreading already, but still, he turned around and saw something that sent a chill down his spine. There was a female bear, most likely the bear he had been asked to hunt. Only she looked like she was undergoing some kind of metamorphosis. Small pinpricks of light shone among her fur and a patch of fur he noticed where her left hind leg was was starting to turn a familiar blue tinge he remembered from the TV show. The bear, upon seeing the ponies, rose to her hind legs, revealing that she was now twice the size of a normal Grizzly. Pensword slowed his breathing as he pulled his bow and arrow out. His grizzly was turning into an Ursa Minor. Was this how an Ursa grew? Corruption? Infection? Something else? He wondered, but the bear did not let him think any more as it roared and dropped down. A moment later Pensword released his arrow. True to its course, it buried itself into the forehead of the bear. Nothing but the fletchings remained outside the creature’s head. He paused at the ready, another arrow drawn in fear, but it seemed in his fear he had pulled back a little too hard on his bow and while the bow still worked, it quivered. Or were his hooves shaking? He let out a growl of frustration, threw down the bow and dropped to his haunches, sighing heavily. “Why do all the bears startle me and attack me?” he wondered. He also noticed in his shocked state, that the fur was still letting off the glow of the sky. He could see the light bouncing on the walls. The Ursa Major was still glowing.
“Lunar Fang?” Luna spoke up. “We know thou hast a hunt of thine own, but wouldst thou keep watch over this whilst we create some sort of device to move it outside that we may have a better vantage to contrive how we may remove the hide?”
“Of course, your majesty. I think at the moment Pensword and I would be willing. We, we seem to have killed a strange Grizzly as well.” She shivered as she wondered just what was going on and why did ... was this how Ursa were born?
Luna nodded as she teleported away. An hour later she returned with a large device. It appeared to be a mixture of wagon and sled, made from whole tree logs strung together. With a great show of magical strength she managed to shift the entire bear on to the sled and with some strain began to move it from the cave. “Come. We shall set up a camp, then thou shalt hunt, Lunar Fang.”
Lunar Fang nodded brusquely. “As you wish, your majesty. It is almost dawn, a time that the wolf hunts in this area of the forest. The blood and meat shall bring them to see if they might have an easy meal. This hunt may not be very long or hard.” She muttered as she saw Pensword pacing where Luna had tucked his own bear onto the sled, placed on one of the massive paws of the Ursa Major. His mind wondered what had caused what he was seeing. The bear’s fur, he thought, was still being consumed by the sky. But what was causing this change in subspecies? He stood there, brooding while they made camp. As soon as they were finished, Lunar Fang left even as the howls of wolves filled the air.
Luna scanned the pelt with her horn taking a long time to determine the best way to remove it with the least amount of damage before she began to carefully cut the fur. She was especially cautious around the stars and constellations, desiring to maintain their integrity for further use and proof to the council. As she worked, Pensword continued watching the fur change. He was just flabbergasted. It was an hour later that Lunar Fang returned pulling a dead wolf on a sled behind her. She blinked as she saw the sight of the camp before turning and starting to prepare her own presentation for the Elders the next night. What had been planned for a week minimum of hunting had been accomplished as the sun continued to rise and bring light to the world. In fact as the light touched the fur of the Ursa’s both Pensword and Luna could see just what to do now to prepare it properly. That day only Faust knew just what had changed. The rest of Equestria, and the Gryphons did not know that a tie was being forged that would soon bring about a swift end to the projected five year war.
Princess Luna stood boldly before the council. She looked to the left and nodded her head before looking back to Crescent Mane of the Wolf Clan. She waited to be called upon to speak. She could tell the other Tribe leaders were all staring down at her with varying degrees of emotions ranging from curiosity from the Fox clan to outright annoyance from Star Cub.
“Warrior Luna. I see you have returned to us.” Crescent Mane said after tapping a hoof to silence the chamber of any side conversations.
“Yes. I have brought a gift. During the night and day I hunted while my guides hunted for themselves. I bring you my hunt as a gift to all the elders here.” Even as she spoke they could hear something from one of the side hallways. They had allowed the warrior to have a private entrance for something and now it seemed she wanted to surprise them by offering them a token of a Thestral coming of age.
The tribes all seemed a bit taken by this declaration. “That… is quite generous, Warrior Luna. You are aware that such an action cannot change our decision, correct?” Crescent Mane asked.
Luna waited a few beats and timed her words to end as the semi massive cart entered the chamber. “We have found that it is never wise to speak absolutes until the event is finished.” She smiled at the tarp she had woven together from leaves, branches, and magic to cover what lay beneath. She could tell that her words were causing some fear and so she took her magic and pulled the covering off the cart as it rolled to a stop. It had been pushed not only by Lunar Fang and Pensword, but also warriors from the Dream Clan.
Stunned silence filled the chamber as each and every thestral stared at the cart in shock. It took a long time before Crescent Mane was able to speak. “You killed a great bear?” he asked, his voice a hollow whisper as it hissed through the caves.
Luna smirked as she dropped the glamour, revealing the injuries and marks she had sustained. The Thestrals did not think much about her hunt at first, but now … now they could see the full extent of her injuries. Bandages were wrapped around her torso, crimson blotches showing through as the wounds took their natural course. A swollen black eye squinted, glinting with the rush of battle as she stared down each and every Thestral. Blood matted her coat, further evidence of the ferocity of combat. Her trusty mace bore the dried and crusted remnants of ursa blood, the luminescent fur still sticking in patches. “We carry the wounds and signs of battle do we not? Forgive us for concealing our wounds at first. I wanted to make, what an old teacher would have called, a dramatic point.”
The silence lingered, the cavern resounding with a sense of awe and astonishment. Finally, it was broken by a chuckle as weathered storm rose to his hooves and walked over to Luna. “Warrior Luna, you have killed the great bear in single combat.” He removed his whip and placed it at her hooves, bowing. “As the stars follow the moon in the endless cycle, the manticore tribe follows you. We do give you our power and our respect, as well as the responsibility for us. Lead us well, great chief.” Behind him the manticore tribe roared in agreement. The effect was not fast, but slowly the other chieftains, some respectfully, some happily, and in Star Cub’s case, a bit begrudgingly laid their weapons at her hooves and pledged the loyalty of their tribes.
High Chiefess Luna of all Thestrals looked at her chiefs. “Take thine weapons and gather. We have a council of war to conduct.” She looked to Pensword. “As an officer of Equestrian Military take this oath to memory.” She turned to the Thestrals and rose her voice to the royal canterlot voice. “WE PLEDGE TO LEAD ALL FAIRLY. IF EQUESTRIA SHALL REJECT THEE AS A MEMBER OF EQUESTRIA, THEN SHALL THEY REJECT ONE OF THEIR OWN PRINCESSES OF EQUESTRIA. SO SAY I.” she took a deep breath, then another that was quicker as it hitched in her chest. She winced from the pain in her ribs. It seemed the Royal Canterlot Voice would have to hold off for the moment until she could fully recover from her battle. She smiled as she wondered what Lord Hammer Strike would do once she presented him with his newest project.
“You heard the chieftess!” Withered Storm shouted. “Let all warriors gear for war and begin to distribute the meat immediately!” He ordered as Thestrals went to the bounty to begin stripping the meat. Unarmed mares and a few young foals seemed to perk up at this site as they made their way towards it. They had seen that she had already skinned the beast and even in the cave the pelt glowed like a purple night sky.
Luna looked to Withered Storm with a raised eyebrow before she leaned in, showing a trait of a leader. “Why doest thou do this?” She looked to the cart. “Dost not the warriors need food to march on?” She was willing to ask questions.
“Those are families who have no hunters, mares or stallions. They cannot be warriors or hunters for one reason or another. There are also foals whose parents have gone into the darkness.” Weathered Storm pointed out. “The current law states that in a time of excess such as this they must be the first to feed from it. You are, of course, welcome as grand chieftess to change this law. But until it is done they will be fed first.”
Luna blinked, then blinked again. After a small space of time, she snorted. “If only the nobles of Equestria were as generous with their plenty as thou art with thine. When this war ends, maybe good can come from this tradition into pony society as a whole.”
“II I may, chieftess, you will have to forge a new weapon.” Withered Storm noted. “When a new chieftain is named they take for themselves a weapon and they keep to that weapon as long as they rule.”
Princess Luna nodded. “Lead me to a forge and you shall have my chieftess weapon in the space of two nights.” She replied with an odd expression. Weathered Storm bowed.
“As you wish, High Chiefess. You shall have use of our forge. And if you wish, none shall disturb you till the weapon is finished.” With those words Weathered Storm turned and began to lead High Chiefess Luna to their smithing cavern.
Luna smiled behind his back. “Thank you. I would not wish to disrupt the others preparing for war. All we truly need would be a corner to work and a runner to fetch supplies and tools. They know the forge better than we do.”
“As you command, High Chiefess.” Weathered Storm responded.
Meanwhile, Pensword was hunting for something else, all the while pulling a covered cart behind him similar to the carts that the native americans used to carry their Tepis from horse back. He soon found her near her personal meeting chamber. He paused to await acknowledgement by the Lion Clan leader.
Piercing Roar nodded her head to Pensword. “Hello, Moonkissed.” she said. Raising an eyebrow at the cart behind him.
“Piercing Roar of the Lion Tribe. I have brought the hide you asked for. However, something happened to it that cannot be explained. Also, your tooth is with the hide.” he replied as he unhitched himself from the sled he was pulling. He turned to see Piercing Roar’s expression.
“Pensword. This pelt looks like the pelt of a Ursa Minor.” Piercing Roar spoke, confusion evident in her voice. “Explain this.”
“The Grizzly thou didst send me to hunt was in the midst of this transformation. As thou canst see, while small for the legends of a minor, it is still twice the size of the Grizzly thou didst ask of me. I also waited as even after death the fur continued to turn to stars. I did not want to present a hide that looked like Discord’s pet, so I waited for it to finish changing before skinning.”
Piercing Roar pondered silently, her eyes piercing Pensword’s, probing the depths for any hints of falsehood. At last, she broke the silence. “Very well,” she said with a nod. “Distribute the rest like we discussed and you shall have permission to court Lunar Fang.”
“Very well. I shall finish with the teeth. I presented the meat to my grandmother as instructed by my Tribal leader. She shall give where it is needed.” He turned and slowly trotted away. Piercing Roar moved to enter her personal quarters when her left ear twitched and swiveled to focus on a new sound. She heard Lunar Fang’s hooves clip clopping along the stone floor. She turned, facing Lunar Fang even as she approached. Piercing Roar waited patiently outside the hide covered door for the presentation of Lunar Fang’s task. A few moments later Lunar Fang arrived carrying a smaller cart then Pensword. Yet she could easily see a wolf’s paw hanging over the edge. Her eyes brightened and a smile formed on her muzzle.
“I see you have done as I have asked.” Piercing Roar removed the tarp, examining the pelt before her. “I am proud to formally declare you a lion amongst ponies.” Piercing Roar eyed Lunar Fang. “Welcome back to your true family.”
Lunar Fang blinked back tears and bowed her head as she spread her wings. “Thank you, Tribe Chiefess. I shall do my utmost not to stray from the family again.” When she rose, full tears stood in her eyes as she found joy at being called a Lion Clan member once again. Even if it was in the past it still felt good to hear those words.
“I must say that I have already given a young Stallion permission to court you when you fulfilled your hunting duties.” Her expression remained neutral and Piercing Roar waited till she could see the doubt in Lunar Fang’s eyes on what the next words would be. “Pensword of the Bear Tribe and the Dream Clan shall begin his courtship shortly. Do not start swaying your wings to any Stallions now. Let this warrior have his chance.”
Lunar Fang bowed her head as she spread her wings again. “I accept my Tribe Leader’s judgement.” She spoke clearly, her eyes twinkling merrily.
Grif tested the armor carefully. It wasn’t the finest armor in history but it would pass for the iron armor most gryphons wore during wartimes. He had placed all his gear save for a few hidden knives in a locked chest in Hurricane’s tent. “If I’m not back in twenty-four hours, I’m either dead or imprisoned.” Grif went over the final details with Hurricane one more time. “If this happens, then you?” He asked.
“Then I inform Lord Hammer Strike or Pensword. I wait for their reply or for Pensword’s forces to show up. I do not assault the Fortress directly, nor do I move from this camp. I shall continue to build up the clouds in areas to be called upon when the assault happens.” Lord Hurricane replied as he looked at the map. “If you are dead, you’ll get word to me some other way.”
“Now,” Grif said as he handed Hurricane the shackles. “Hit me.”
Hurricane eyed him warily. “You promise that Pensword will not tear any feathers out of my wings? As thou art the only Gryphon he seems to have spared his wrath. I read the reports of his actions there.”
“I promise you nothing bad will happen to you. A gryphon warrior would never let themselves be taken easily. I have to look like you beat me unconscious.” He said. “Now hit me.”
Hurricane nodded and took a shackle in his hoof before he hit Griff with all his might. He swung again almost before it finished its arch, causing a slight whiplash with part of the chain.
Grif smiled through the pain as his face began to show obvious signs of bruising. “Okay. Let’s go save a pony or two.” Grif said.
Hurricane sucked in a breath as he was in mid swing and another bruise began to form on Grif’s back. “Very well. Sorry about the last one. I did not expect it to be so easy.” He looked to the skies and sighed. “May Faust bless with good fortune.”
“It’s ok. My species isn’t exactly popular right now.” Grif noted holding out his talons. “Time to cuff me.”
“Very well.” Lord Hurricane muttered as he placed the cuffs on the Griffin's talons. “Good luck.”
The march to Fort Triumph was a large public display with unicorns shielding the procession. Well armed pegasi and earth ponies walked in a box formation in front of Grif and storming hurricane.
“Stop!” Came the harsh command. “State your intention, Equestrian.” A gryphon spoke from the ramparts.
“I have come with an offer; a prisoner exchange.” he looked to one of his fellow guards and the Guard on the rampart heard him mutter. “The sooner we get this terror out of camp the better,” he growled. Hurricane looked at the Gryphon. He was glad they were respecting a flag of truce. He half expected them to be cornered and taken captive for food. “What say you?” When he did not get a response, he dared to hope that it meant the ponies had somehow escaped and were free. But it was too much to ask.
“What are your demands?” the guard asked.
“In return for this warrior adding to your ranks, one who sent an entire squad of my men to the plains beyond,” he wanted to make Gif sound impressive in fighting. “I demand the safe release and delivery of any captured civilians and injured ponies, as well as a guarantee on your word of honor that we shall not be pursued.” He knew none of the guards would leave if any ponies would be left behind.
“One gryphon for all the ponies?” The guard called back.
“Oh shut up and just shoot me.” Grif screeched back. “Seriously a week hunting the damned things and I get taken down by a pony. Got into the city, too. This close to Celestia.” He growled.
There was a silence from the wall. “Hold on. I want to check with my commander.” The guard said, the air echoing with the flapping of wings.
“They’ll do anything for intel on Unity.” Grif spoke under his breath with a chuckle.
Hurricane did not respond other than with a flick of his ear. “Guards. If this deal goes through make a show of tieing the keys to the shackles to an arrow. Send said arrow into the top of the tower away from any guards. I do not want to lose any more of my stallions to this monster’s beak or claws. They can release him themselves once the exchange is complete.” He knew that the guards at the wall heard him and already it seemed that they were preparing to clear a path for the arrow.
There was the sound of wings flapping followed by some bird like shrieks before a new voice finally returned. “We’re going to open the gate. Tell your soldiers to step back twelve paces and we will send the prisoners out.”
“Very well. We shall be placing the key to the bonds on an arrow and we shall first bury it into the gate doors before you open it. I will not let the Gryphon kill any more of my troops. Tell us when to act.” The ponies all retreated save for Grif, Hurricane, and the archer. All they got was a screech and the archer fired his arrow. It hit the wood and buried itself into the door.There would be no lasting damage. With the deed done, the two remaining ponies walked back as they pulled up the stakes to allow Grif to walk forward on his own as they regrouped at the agreed upon place.
Grif had a cocky grin on his face as he made a show of limping toward the gate while the clearly abused prisoners filed out: ten mares and two foals. Grif roared into the face of one of the foals as he passed, causing the young pony to whimper. He chuckled as he entered even as on the inside guilt crushed him like a boulder. The gates creaked as they closed leaving him inside the camp and the ponies out.
“Now you have twenty minutes to get out of bow range ponies before we skewer you to the ground.” The voice growled back from the wall.
The Troops turned and quickly marched at the fastest pace they could manage. The two foals were placed on the backs on some of the stallions and the mares were helped along by other soldiers. Sadly, one troop was brought up lame by an arrow at roughly twenty minutes or a little less. While he would live, he would not be able to fight another battle the rest of his days. The arrow had hit the armor over his cutie mark and cut a long gash down the leg.
Inside the camp a few warriors walked up to Grif to remove the shackles. The older of them laughed heartily as he slapped Grif’s back with a wing. “Oi, looks like they did a number on you, huh?” He laughed, he spoke in Gryphonian as soon as the ponies were out of ear range.
Grif puffed up his chest and looked back. “They rushed me, took twenty of the scads down before they got me, ruined my best knife in the fight.” He looked around. “Well, you guys got a nice set up here. Whats a gryphon got to do to get some refreshment around here?” Grif asked, searching hungrily.
The gryphon who had removed his shackles signaled to another very young gryphon, likely a new warrior still trying to get his wings. The fledgling grabbed a large bowl of something and brought it over. Grif took a slurp and did everything to hold back his gag reflex. The stinging taste of alcohol covered his tongue like acid. Instead of spitting it out the gryphon proceeded to throw his head back and down the whole thing before tossing the bowl away. The other warriors laughed as he did until a voice broke things up.
“Well, now that you are getting yourself comfortable, perhaps you would accompany me into my quarters for some questions?” The voice came from a large red feathered gryphon. Brown fur streaked across his back end. His body was mostly untouched bearing no scars from previous battles, but he wore the armor of a fort commander and he spoke with a capital Gryphonian accent.
Grif nodded as he limped over. “Oh aye sir, want to know what I saw in Unity ey? No fear commander, sir I seen everything.” He laughed as he followed the gryphon to his tent. Everything seemed to be working out just fine.
Pensword had been putting this off for a while, yet he knew he had to talk to his grandmother. He couldn’t keep this secret from her. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. He looked up and knocked on the plank of wood outside of his gramma’s cave. He blinked as he heard her voice call out strong as ever.
“Come in my grandson. Come in.” Pensword steeled his nerves and walked forward through the flap of skins over the cave entrance. Right away he noticed a strange lantern on a table of rocks as his grandmother looked on him from a perch halfway up the wall. Her eyes, he saw, were filled with sadness. A moment later she had pounced him into a tight hug. “I am so sorry I did not see this sooner.” She whispered. “My dear Grandson Pensword.” She pulled back and her eyes bore into him. “My grandson Matthew.” She spoke the dragon name. “Thou hast been through so much. Your mother has given me a glimpse of your past and,” She pulled him closer. “Look behind thee.”
Pensword looked around the cave. Three shadows stood out on the wall. He could see a Pegasus with wings spread out, then a Thestral on the other side wings also spread. In the middle was one tall creature that seemed to be looking at the world. Pensword looked to his grandmother who was crying now. “Gramma, can, can I call you that still?” His voice breaking a little, scared of how this might change his relationship with her.
“You can call me Gramma all you want. Even when it is time for you to return to your path I shall visit you as your mother visits you.” She cracked a small smile. “Many ages ago, the Gryphons were given a warning. If they ever came again to Equestria as they did before Discord, one whose body held three shadows would bring them shame and shall claim their grandest fortress.” This time she broke into a full smile. “You know this already. But to the Gryphons, they have forgotten those words from the Thestral before eating her. You shall bring justice. Even before Luna came with the signs of the High Chiefess, as blood and kin I would have granted you every warrior in our clan to bring vengeance to those that killed my daughter and son by love. They who killed two of my grand foals, and their kin. Know this. You are loved and shall always be counted as kin to the Thestrals.” She leaned in and hugged her grandchild. “Now please, let out the pain and cry. Steel yourself. Your time shall come. But know this. Others will push the lines. You only plug the flood.”
Pensword nuzzled as a grandchild to a grandmother and let the tears go. “Gramma, do I see because of the pain?” he asked.
“Yes,” His grandmother replied after a time. “Because of your life in Equestria and before. Your brushes with death have left you with a special thestral gift that may have saved you from being more reckless as you have much now to aim for, to fight for, and return to.” She smiled and looked to a wall. “Remember when you asked all those moons ago who you saw standing in my tent? That was my mate, who had passed before you were born. Even then your gift was growing. You shall be many things, but to me you shall always be my grandson.” She pulled back and smiled. “So. When is the wedding? Are you thinking of making me a Great Gramma?”
Pensword looked aghast before cracking a smile as he realized she was trying to cheer him up. It was working. “You will have to wait and see Gramma. Wait and see.” He chuckled. “I can be as mythic as you are.” He paused and blinked. “Gramma? Why do you have my pitchfork?”
She smiled. “So you can name it of course. A weapon is a weapon and I feel you should name it. Or have you already done so?”
“Concord, Gramma. I plan on taking Concord and Lexington with me to battle. They have meaning to me as Pensword, and as Matthew.” He blinked and looked at his Grandmother. “It feels strange hearing that name right now after twenty years of not even thinking of it or hearing it.”
Lord Hurricane met the glare of the two earth ponies, his expression a mixture of many emotions, but the current one was a determination to keep these two safe. “If I let you do this, imagine what Grif would say when he comes back and finds you two hurt or worse? You know that Grif is a trained fighter. Do you think anypony could stop him if he goes into a rage because two of his almost family got killed in their own schemes?” He did not let them speak before he continued. “That said, I will not send you away from the camp. We can use ponies with your skills. I need healers for the ten mares and the stallion that was injured in our exchange. Just be patient and keep yourselves safe.” He looked to the two a little longer. “Am I understood? You shall see Grif eventually.”
Tall Oak only nodded his equine head and gave a poor salute before he turned around. “I shall work with building some of the earth ramparts then.”
“I’ll look at them.” Willow said. “But if he doesn’t return I’m going in there and you are not stopping me.” She growled.
Hurricane gaped at Willow. “May I never have to place you into the ranks of field medicine with Pensword as that is the only way that fortress can be approached now. That is, if Pensword succeeds.”
“Then you better pray he succeeds.” She said with a menacing scowl.
Lord Hurricane gave a curt nod and waited for her to leave as well, Once she was gone, he leaned back. “What is the deal with Lord Hammer Strike finding these ponies?” he shook his head. “A pony raised by Gryphons, a Gryphon who is loyal to a pony, and I have a strange feeling that Captain is also involved somehow.” he looked to a scroll as he pulled it to him and started to write. “To Princess Celestia.” he began.
Within the darkened canvas Hammer Strike found himself looking around, his mind lost to the whispers that fell around him. His ears twitched at the noise, his mind registering them, but never placing a name. He couldn’t even place an image.
“Shawn.”
His head snapped to his right. The darkness was the only thing to greet him back.
Names, places, things, ideas, they all seemed familiar. But at the same time, not.
“My lord.”
He looked to his left, his mind ached as he tried to think of who the voices belonged to. He could only remember glimpses of things at best. But things were getting better. He remembered Taze, and Matthew…
Or was it Grif and Pensword…
He shook his head, a headache starting up again as he tried to think, a hand coming up to the bridge of his nose as he sighed.
He paused, opening his eyes to look at the hoof in front of him.
The sound of footsteps interrupted him again, boots against a stone floor. His head automatically turned towards the noise, only to meet darkness once again.
“Was there a lady Hammer Strike a thousand years ago?”
He looked forward. This time,instead of nothing he was met with a silhouette, a unicorn. He could tell by the shape of the horn on its head. But it dissipated before he could think any further on it.
“It isn’t everyday one meets an actual fairy tale hero.”
“Fairy tale hero?” He heard his own voice echo.
“A name can die out in a short way.” He heard himself again.
“I’m sorry, but I just had to talk to you.” Another voice echoed, looking to his right he saw another silhouette, another unicorn.
“Maybe you had something you didn’t think yourself ready to know?” He heard Luna to his left, but it wasn’t her visiting his dream.
And then came the silence.
“Is it too much to ask that you go for a week without putting yourselves in mortal danger?” He heard the first voice again, sighing.
“I need a week off anyways.” He answered back before realising he said it aloud.
In front of him the silhouette stood again. He focused on it, trying to figure out details. Unicorn…
Curled hair…
His ear twitched as his voice echoed once more.
“It appears you know me. May I have the name of the beautiful mare before me?”
The silhouette giggled into her hoof. “I am Rarity, my lord.”
His eyes snapped opened as he came back to his senses, his mind trying to catch up with his thoughts as he slowly pushed himself out of bed. He felt fatigued mentally, and physically. He was shaking slightly, but he couldn’t figure out why.
Sitting up he pushed the covers off himself and he looked to one of his tables, his mind still trying to catch up to what he was doing as he stood and began walking.
Sitting down at the chair he felt himself grab a quill and inkwell with some parchment. Quickly dipping the quill into the ink he began to both write and draw.
At the top of the paper a name was placed. ‘Rarity’
Below it he drew the silhouette, as much as he could remember at the time, for every little piece counted towards his memory.
The sensation of a hoof on his shoulder appeared quite suddenly. “Lord Hammer Strike?” A voice called.
He blinked a couple of times as he turned, finding one of the apprentices next to him. Giving his head a light shake he looked again. “Yes?”
“Sorry to wake you sir, but we need you to look over some of the recent work.” One of the apprentices, this time a large unicorn stallion, spoke.
Nodding he took a breath. “I shall be over shortly.”
The stallion nodded before quietly heading back to his station.
Giving one last glance back at the paper he sighed, whispering lightly to himself the name that haunted him for so long. “Rarity.”
Lunar Fang walked slowly into the dining area of the Dream Clan. She saw that the furs had been marked for mourning. She blinked as she saw the lanterns of sorrow, low artificial blue moonlight lit the area. She noticed spread out spots were empty. she passed them, knowing they were left there on purpose. She shivered as she surveyed the seats. They were those of the dead. Sometimes she saw an entire table left open with plates and cups turned upside down. She finally found Pensword sitting alone at one table. Yet she saw something that confused her. A place next to him had a cup turned right side up. She realized a moment later that she was being invited to join his table. She smiled as he got up and moved the chair away so she could sit. He then pushed the chair in a little and he took his own seat. Once Pensword had returned to his own seat, she found that she felt the eyes on her turn away. She turned, realizing something.
“Why are you starting the courtship now? At the last meal?” She could not think of why any thestral would have been bold enough to do this. She was a little curious as well as the other Thestrals who seemed to be handling this change of events rather stoically.
“Because I need to start healing.” She looked to the table. “Also, I wanted you to be at a formal dinner with my family.” He grinned. “Yes they are here, as is all the town. This is, in a way, my mother’s request. To show that her family would not die out. That from the ashes of this sorrow shall grow a rose of hope.” He smiled warmly as he looked fully on Lunar Fang. “Those were my father’s words, not mine.” He frowned again with a twitch of his mouth as he looked to the empty plates.
Lunar Fang smiled back as she realized another thing. “You didn’t want to be alone tonight, did you?” She asked as she smiled a little more, showing her fangs. She smiled even broader as Pensword returned the same wide smile. “I do not know if I will be morbid or not over the fact that your parents will be giving you advice for ages to come.”
Pensword gave a quick nod of his head. “As long as I do not see my other parents for years to come it shouldn’t be too bad.” She nodded her head. She understood that to Matthew, his parents should still be alive. And yet they had not even not even been born yet in this timeline. He looked to the empty seat next to him. “Mom, this is Lunar Fang. I am courting her with intents of creating a family unit.” He smiled as he looked to the other empty chairs as he was about to start introducing her to his family. “Next to my mother is my father. Next to you on your other side is Whirlwind, my youngest sister. And next to her is my younger brother Moon Burn.” To Lunar Fang they were empty seats. Yet she knew these few meant the world for him.
“A pleasure to be in your presence. I hope you are accepting of, our courtship.” She paused and for the strangest reason she felt like warmth had seeped into her body at the comment. She liked it. She would have said more, but the meals were presented. Upon the plates in front of the empty seats was a wedge of lemon with salt on it, representing the bitterness of tears and loss. At the top of the plate a piece of honeycomb sat. She blinked back her own tears. Honeycomb was considered in this moment to represent the sweetness of when a reunion would happen many years from now as honey never spoils. It may crystallize but it never expires. She looked to Pensword and blushed a little as he was looking at his plate. “Good luck in the coming war. I promise. When that fortress falls, we shall be married in the grandest hall I have.”
Lunar Fang only smiled and nodded her head. The rest of the meal was conducted in somber silence. The night would be for reflecting and for Pensword. He would relay stories of the town where he could to bring and keep the memories of those who lived alive for just a little longer.
Grif kept very still on the bunk he had been assigned, his eye’s closed and his breathing measured. Relying solely on his ears the gryphon listened carefully for signs of the others in the room being asleep. The time at camp had been full of questions from the CO about Unity and exploitable weaknesses. Grif had for his part fed them the most realistic false information he could think of while observing his surroundings. Once the officer had squeezed as much information as he could from Grif he had another soldier show him around the fort. The thought of a gryphon against them never crossed their mind as the gryphon was shown where the weapons were stored, carefully explained to about the guard patrols around the siege weaponry and the wall tops. There was only one thing left that Grif needed. Something that he had spotted while with the officer.
A list of names and reassignments for raids near the borders from a few months back. He needed that list. He had a promise to keep. Finally, the sound of light snoring echoed through the bunks, the sound of the guards walking away for the night watch was enough for him. As quietly as possibly he got to his feet, strapping his stilettos to his sides. He decided to forego the armor. His natural black feathers would be a better aid in the night. Checking the door carefully, Grif moved out into the hall of the inner fortress. He took to the air staying a foot above the ground to allow him to move more stealthily. He navigated the hall as quickly as possible.
“Hey, someone's sneaking around over there.” Someone shouted carefully. Grif dropped to the ground immediately. Fortunately they had heard him before they saw him. Two large gryphon guards came running around the corner. They stopped and visually relaxed when they saw him. “Oi, what are you doing up this late?” One of the guards asked
“Sorry, I got up to answer the call of nature and I think I got lost.” He said, his tone as light as possible.
“Ah, you are that new guy who the ponies traded back to us. Don’t worry. Happens to the best of us. Just follow us and we’ll help you back.” The other guard laughed as the two walked past him before waving for him to follow.
“Thanks.” Grif said. “If you don’t mind me asking when do you boys get switched out?” He tried to pose the question as simple curiosity.
“Oh, we don’t get switched till dawn, best to make sure the day watch gets a full night’s sleep.”
“Good, good.” Grif said as he drew his stilettos silently, the first and then the second. “Well I just wanted to say,” In one movement he sank both stilettos through their necks from behind. “How much I appreciate your assistance.” He gave one swift sweep and tore the daggers out the sides covering up the guards attempts at screams with gurgles. Sheathing the blades Grif quickly stowed the bodies under a nearby flight of stairs.
Moving up as silently as possible the gryphon found no more resistance as he came to the door of the CO’s office. He moved to open it only to find it locked. Letting out a quiet growl of frustration, grif drew a stiletto and attempted to pick the lock only for it to break.
“Nitiva shock trofita.” He swore under his breath, examining the door for a moment he laughed as he found his answer. Digging the stiletto tip into the hinge, he slowly edged the pin out before moving to the lower one. Pushing from the opposite side he opened the door as far as possible. Making his way to the large desk he began searching through the documents. Finding the list, he carefully folded it up. As he scanned the documents his eyes fell upon marching orders and finding ink and paper he pulled out a feather and cut the tip, copying the documents as quickly as possible in short hand. Drying the ink off he folded the documents up and with the list and some string he tied it to the end of his tail.
Scanning the room for anything else of use he ended up recovering a map of the fortress. He was about to leave the room when a glass case caught his eye. Inside were two well forged and brightly polished daggers. A small emerald was mounted on each hilt. A grin moved across his face. Why not add insult to injury? Unlike the door lock he simply broke the simple padlock on the case. Swapping the daggers with his stilettos, he left the room. Making his way down the halls and out to the courtyard as quickly as possible he made his way to the gate.
“What are you doing out here soldier?” A voice from the wall top shouted suddenly.
Grif looked around in a start, “HELP! SOMEBODY’S GONE AND KILLED THE NIGHT GUARD! WE GOT AN INTRUDER!” he shouted.
As soon as the words left his mouth the alarm was sounded. “What happened?” the guard on the wall flew down to him.
“Dunno, got up to use the bathroom and I got lost, met the night guard who lead me back and when I came back out again there was some sound from the officer’s office. So i ran over to check and here the two guards have been killed and dragged behind the stairs,” he said.
“Come on men!” The guard shouted as the gryphons charged into the building. The moment they were gone Grif was in the air and over the wall heading as far away as fast as possible. He panted heavily as he landed, finally, well outside of bow range. The alarm could still be heard sounding from the base as Grif made his way out and towards camp on foot. At the cost of a simple set of iron armor, Equestria had just gained some rather invaluable information.
Grif withdrew the daggers, laughing as he examined them. A fine little extra to an already great take. His talons traced the emeralds carefully, their deep leafy green colour shining in the moonlight. He recognised the cut almost instantly, the same as the ruby on his black bow. If this were a videogame, he laughed to himself, there would be something important about this. But for now he just whistled quietly to himself as he made his way to the Equestrian camp. When he got back there was going to be at least two ponies who would give him hell. But for now life was great.
Pensword woke from his rest as he blinked away the crust of dried tears. He had been sleeping in his own tent. Lunar Fang and a few other Thestrals bearing Luna’s emblem with them were marching to Fillydelphia to help prepare for the Gryphons’ assault on a trading city. He was missing her company. He walked out of the tent as a few Thestrasl moved to start packing his items away. Six days. Six days, he thought to himself, counting the travel time. Yet from here he could see the peaks of the Castle of the two Sisters. Unity was in walking distance and today they would bring the news. He frowned. Today would begin the planning and implementation of a blow to Gryphon Morale and a gauze to the need of his own desire for payback. He paused and his other mind, older and yet younger, warned him to be careful and not to go overboard. He paused as he stood on the slight hill. For the moment, he stood alone as he let the morning breeze wake him up a little more.
“Is all well, Pensword?” Luna asked as she approached him.
“I miss Lunar Fang.” He admitted. “I am also wondering how the military will react to our march into the city in full military parade. I doubt they would be used to their Princess wearing the furs of the clans which thou doest now rule. At least till your robe is completed.” He paused and blinked. “I wonder if the Gryphons will even know I am aiming for them. That a survivor of their plans shall bring them shame and horror with what I have planned.” He paused and took a deep breath. “Also, the morning is a nice morning.” He looked at Princess Luna with a side glance. At the moment she was High Chiefess Luna as he still was a Thestral in eyes of society and of the clans. “You asked if all is well. I gave you my mind’s health.” He turned back to the sight before him and continued his breathing. “The Nightmares are subsiding, though thou might like to try to dream walk with our Dream Stalkers at some point in time.”
“Dream… walk?” Luna asked “What is that exactly?”
Pensword blinked as he realized. He blinked again before speaking as he watched Celestia’s sun climb into the horizon while not looking at it directly. “It is a magic that thestral warriors can perform. They hunt nightmares, bringing peace and prosperity to those that dream. To a Thestral and I am seeing logic now, a nightmare can consume a soul, bring about misery and torment. I have been suffering from Nightmares since I experienced what I did.” He Shivered and pressed his wings closer to his body. “A nightmare can be fought, contained, and banished once the dreamer knows about the nightmare and can find what in the real world is causing the problems.” He paused. “That is all I know. If thou desirest more information, talk to a Dream Stalker. They are always carrying a circle with a web in the middle around their necks to help catch nightmares in the daytime.”
“We think we shall make a point to talk with these dream stalkers. This magic is intriguing to us.” Luna noted.
Pensword only nodded his head in acknowledgment, while mentally wondering why him? Why did he cause the tickle that took Luna to become a dream helper. He shook his head and looked to the city. “I hope the city accepts our march.”
“We have signalled our return.” Luna said. “They will know”
“That is well to hear.” Piercing Roar replied. “We are ready to march. Lead the way, High Chiefess.” He spoke with a bow and sweeping of her wings. She waited for Luna to respond.
“The chiefs will walk beside me into the city, along with Pensword.” Luna ordered. “The rest shall come in behind us in a square formation.”
“As you wish.” Piercing Roar replied as she left the hilltop to relay the message. Pensword looked to the Princess. His eyes saying the question without any words. What had he done to favor this attention from his Princess?
“Penance for my failure.” Luna responded. “We failed you and your town. Unity will know that the thestrals shall no longer be treated less than other ponies. And a hybrid will strike the first blow against the gryphons.” Luna said. “Let Mountainside Falls’ last son be her greatest one.”
Pensword looked to the city. “Then I shall accompany thee at the front. I feel honored that it shall be done this way. Also thou dost read emotions rather well.” He complimented.
“We have had much practice.” Luna nodded. “Though in confidence it is nice to finally have somepony who appreciates our night.” Luna said. “We had begun to feel… unloved.”
“Thou hast not just somepony. Thou hast an entire group who celebrate this night, even I have always loved thy night.” He looked to the sky. “For it is the stars that truly bring the traveler home.”
“Thank you, Pensword.” Luna smiled. “We appreciate your kindness.”
“Thou art welcome, High Chieftess.” he paused and turned around as his ears perked and swivelled. “It sounds like we are ready to march. I shall await further orders with the Clan Chiefs.” he turned and slowly began to walk away, an act that was allowable within Thestral culture.
Luna moved quickly to approach the already forming thestral lines. As soon as everyone seemed in place she nodded. “LET US BEGIN THE MARCH!” She shouted. Luna lifted her weapon high in her magic. The war hammer was large and menacing as it shined blue in the light. It had a large downward curved spike on the back. On close examination anypony could see this spike was formed like that of the end of a large claw, bits of light shined like the night sky within it. the front was formed into a large flat head. The shaft stretched nearly three feet long covered in wrapped black dyed leather. At the bottom it flared out into a large bulb to counterbalance the weight while swinging. Meteor Impact, as it was named, was a weapon worthy of legend no matter what culture looked upon it. With a seeming ease the princess gestured with it to the soldiers at the front of the square. The drums began playing to set out the rhythm.
The march went on near silently on the outskirts. It wasn’t until they hit the more populated areas that ponies began to come outside to see the commotion. Many stared in shock at the lines of thestrals dressed and ready for war marching down the street behind Princess Luna. Some glared at the site while others merely watched. Quite a few foals cheered at the unusual parade. It was during this time that Luna pulled back her lips to show her entire mouth in a smile. Small fangs hung there as evidence to what the princess of the night had done to herself to make her more akin to her new subjects. She could feel a little fear but also confusion at seeing her teeth. Still they marched forward till they reached the outer walls of the Castle complex. She held a wing out to stop the march as a guard stepped forward.
“Your Highness?” The Unicorn guard bowed. “Are, what are your orders?” the Guard asked as he rose. The gates were closed and Luna saw that the guards were nervous about this parade.
“Tell Princess Celestia that High Chieftess Luna of the thestral tribes wishes a parlay.” Luna responded with no hint of emotion in her tone.
The guard was about to treat this as a joke until he saw the expression on Princess Luna’s muzzle. “Ver,” he started and stopped, clearing his throat. “Very Well. It shall be done.” He turned around and a Pegasus took to the air towards the castle. A few moments later Princess Celestia teleported into the area and looked at her Sister. “What art thou doing?” She had not spoken in the Royal Canterlot Voice at the moment as she was too shocked at what she was hearing. “High Chieftess? What is this?”
“We have come to discuss both reparations for wrongs to the thestral race by the Princesses of Equestria, as well as to discuss our alliance in the upcoming war. And do not condescend my title, Princess,” Luna noted in a very thestral fashion. she snorted in agitation and stomped a hoof. “We will be respected in our office.”
Celestia blinked and looked at her sister. “What didst thou do to earn such a title? Thou didst not have those fangs before, nor art thou a Thestral in blood.” Her sister looked on with concern. “As for reparations, I shall clear my schedule for my sister to air the wrongs she sees.” She smiled a little. “Will it just be thee? Or shalt others join as well?”
“We will be joined by the council of chieftains.” Luna spoke as the thestrals in question approached. She signaled with her hammer making a point to show the clawed end. “We have hunted and killed the great ursa major, sister.” Luna said. “And the fangs are to endear us more to our new subjects.”
Celestia nodded her head, a ghost of a smile indicating her approval. “Very well. And what of Pensword’s mission?” She asked her sister. “What shall come of a young dream?” She had already written off the mission as too dangerous and was not planning on moving forward. Luna could tell that easily in her sister’s neutral tone of voice.
“Pensword will be marching out tomorrow morning with enough thestral warriors to take the fort in the thestral name.” Luna said. “But that battle is personal to the thestral people, the family lost members in that fight and will have their revenge. The rest of this war has yet to be seen”
The group started to move forward only to stop as one of the guards, the same Unicorn guard as before, halted their advance. “I request that all weapons be surrendered during your time meeting with Princess Celestia and Princess Luna. Weapons will be returned after the meetings and your departure from the castle.”
“We are prepared to do this if you will do one thing in return.” Weathered Storm responded as Crescent Mane calmed the other chieftains.
It was Celestia who spoke next, taking over and hopefully turning the anger from a mortal unicorn to her own self, one who could handle any harm that might come.
“What might that be?” She had no clue what would be said. She had never spoken to a Thestral not raised in a Noble house before.
“Everypony else present must simply remove their beating heart from their chest until the meeting is done. We will give them back when the deliberations are complete.” He said before leaning into the unicorn’s face. “You ask for a thestral’s weapon. It is the same as requesting his life. To ask a chieftain for his weapon is a great insult to our people.” He leaned in further and the unicorn realised just how much larger the scarred thestral was. “So, unicorn? Are you prepared to cut out your heart for my weapon?”
“The, the rules,” He stammered in shock and a little fearfulness at this creature. He thankfully had enough sense to shut up and hand over the ruling to Celestia as she stepped forward and cleared her throat.
“If my sister shall vouch for each one of you, then you may keep thy main weapon. Pick one of your numbers to sit with the meeting and have them watch any side weapons. Is that acceptable? I almost lost my sister to Gryphon Assassins not even a week ago. I look out for my little ponies.” She had risen to her full height and was not backing down. “Am I clear?” She asked in a tone that said she had better be clear.
“It is acceptable.” It was Luna who spoke up this time, glaring fiercely at Celestia as she spread her wings to their full extent. “And you will keep to the same tone with chieftains that they maintain towards you, princess Celestia, or the Thestrals will simply vanish back into the stones of equestria and let it burn.”
Celestia blinked in shock at her sister, her younger sister. “Very well. If they are rude to us, we shall be rude to them back.” She turned around. “Follow me to the meeting hall. We shall continue our discussion there on parlay and what Equestria can do for the Thestrals. And,” she added, “what the Thestrals will be willing to do for Equestria.” She turned her head. “Captain Pensword. You shall be in charge of their weapons as thou appearest to be trusted by both nations at this time.”
“I may need a wagon.” Pensword muttered in shock at being told, no, commanded by a rule,r that they were going to be at a meeting, sit there, and keep accountability of the weapons of high importance to each pony present in the room.
In an act of fairness Luna approached Pensword first and gave him a knife she kept for emergencies. The other chieftains took her lead, each dropping all but their main weapon. As it turns out, Pensword did need a small wagon to store them in. It made a most interesting show as Thestral Chieftains of both genders, Princess Luna in furs, and Celestia clad only in a bit of ceremonial metal walked into the castle, all followed by Pensword pulling a wagon that was full of weapons.
In a small village kilo-trots away from unity in the personal gallery of one of the many lords of the land, a painting flashed brightly as the beautiful landscape painted within shifted away, revealing instead a large meeting hall with the oddest assembly in history gathered together.
Hammer Strike found himself sitting in his room having just finished with the project that Celestia had given him and the apprentices. While he chose to relax in his room after the amount of work, the apprentices chose to celebrate in the town.
“Lord Hammer Strike?” A voice asked as a hoof knocked on the nearby wall.
Hammer Strike hummed in thought as he turned to face the voice. Luna stood before him, tanned pelts wrapped around her form.
“I understand thou hast been busy in our absence.” Luna said.
Hammer chuckled lightly. “Just a bit. I mean, only armor for a whole town, and in a week’s time we are headed off to Fillydelphia to do the same thing.”
“We were wondering, if you are not too tired, if you would make a set of armor for us.” Luna said. “Armor made from a rather unusual material.”
“A set of armor? No problem.” Hammer responded. “Just name the material and I can see if we have them on hoof. If not, it might take me more time.”
“Oh, I brought the material with me.” Luna turned her head and ignited her horn, levitating a small wagon into the room. She removed the cloth cover to reveal large plates of bone.
Hammer Strike hummed to himself for a moment. “Interesting choice. What are these bones from?” He asked.
“A giant bear with teeth like diamonds and a very bad temper.” Luna said.
“Are you trying to make me jelous?” Hammer asked. “That sounds fun. Given those bones the thing must have been huge.”
“They call it an Ursa Major and it was possibly the most exciting fight we have had in years.” Luna laughed.
“I would believe it.” He responded. “Given that you did that and are wearing the pelts of several creatures, I take it the meeting went well?”
“We ended up becoming the high chieftess to the entire Thestral population.” Luna noted. “And made a new hammer.” She said levitating Meteor Impact for Hammer Strike to examine.
After giving it enough study he hummed. “Have you been going into my personal armory?”
“We may have taken some inspiration from something we saw you practicing with.” Luna responded with a grin.
Hammer nodded. “Not bad.” He responded. “Have you tested it extensively yet?”
“Honestly we only had two days to get it done before we had to march for Unity.” Luna looked at him. “Do not give us that look. Not all of us can turn out metal work at your rate.”
“I know, I know.” He chuckled lightly. “I am sure to hear about whatever happened from other nobles eventually. They tend to gossip too much.” He lightly shook his head. “I am sure it was a shock to them. But enough of that. I shall get to work on the armor soon.” He smiled. “It is good to see you again.”
“It has been long since we have been able to speak with our master.” Luna smiled. “It is somewhat ironic it should be in the forge of all places. It seems like it were only yesterday we were the apprentice working the bellows and shoveling coal.”
“You have come a long way since those days.” Hammer said in response. “How goes your sister?”
“She was so shocked when we talked to her as the Thestral chieftess and not the Equestrian Princess.” Luna chuckled to herself.
Hammer chuckled in response. “At least things are going for the better, despite obvious problems. Any major news going on besides what we just discussed?”
“Pensword marches for triumph tomorrow.” Luna responded. “He goes with the thestrals to rendezvous with Hurricane and Grif.”
Hammer Strike nodded as he listened. “We shall see how things go from there. For the best I will hope.”
“Hope is what we need most of all right now.” Luna said. “This war is still young, but I feel it will not be ignored by history.”
“It certainly will not be ignored.” He responded, rolling his shoulders. “I should get to work on the armor. I bet you want it as soon as possible.”
“We have tasks we must attend to then. Until later, Lord Hammer Strike.” Luna said.
“Until then Luna.” He responded. “I shall send you a letter when I finish.” He paused. “And stop with the titles. You know my feeling on them.” He chuckled.
Luna simply chuckled as she walked away.
Pensword carefully scrutinized the troops, his troops. They were predominantly Thestral but there were a few unicorns, Earth Ponies, and Pegasi as well. With them stood his platoon of mercenaries. He looked to the Twenty troops at his side and then to the volunteers for this mission.
“Troops, we march tomorrow to meet up with Colonel Hurricane. As you all know, we are marching on Fort Triumph for a moral attack as well as to cut off any major flow of reinforcements and gryphon supplies into Equestria. We shall be briefing you all on the particulars when we arrive and integrate fully into Hurricane’s forces. I expect fairness. If I hear anypony has excluded, or deliberately been attacking anypony whether verbally or physically, the result will be reprimands and even court marshals if it comes to that. We all know what we are facing. We know what the fate of any settlements will be if we fail. I have one order to all ponies in this army: No Survivors. Grif is exempt. He is fulfilling a debt to Pegasus and Thestral honor. If he asks for feathers, give him what he wants.” He growled. “Any Gryphon who wishes to divulge information may be spared. Afterwards they will be tried for the crimes they have committed or have helped to commit. Fall Out and get some sleep. we march at the last watch of the night.” He glared at the troops. “We have Thestrals, and Luna’s moon shall be full. We march by moonlight. Lets us show them that the night is no barrier to us.” He paused and stepped forward. “Any questions? You volunteered for this mission. That means you can comment.” He paused and waited for the troops to respond. He had a feeling the Thestrals would be supportive of this. As for the others, he was not so sure.
The thestrals stood tall and proud. They looked haphazard next to the golden armored soldiers of the assembled armies. No two thestrals wore a similar set of armor. Their weapons varied greatly from stone clubs to sword-like weapons that looked like large boards lined with sharp pieces of volcanic glass, two large shields, and even spears. Yet there they stood, proud to follow one of their own into battle. At the end of Pensword’s speech the block stomped their hooves in unison and respect.
The unicorns, pegasi, and earth ponies were slower to respond. it was not so much that they were un-roused by the speech but more that they were uneasy being beside so many armed thestrals at once. They saluted their acknowledgement slowly until all stood at attention.
Pensword nodded to the group with a stern look. “Tomorrow we march. Tonight, we bunk as a unit outside of the city. I hope you are ready to leave. We are not returning to our homes. We start as a unit right now. Thestrals will be bunked amongst the other troops to start teaching survival in the wild. We shall be on our own and eventually battling Gryphons. The plan, I shall say now, is that we live off the land. No supply trains.” He didn’t wait for another word. “Dismissed. We march for camp in one hour.”
He turned to his unit as the troops departed. They had become his headquarters unit. “Blue Vase, I want you checking the medical carts. Also, relay my orders on hygiene, washing, and boiling of equipment.”
Blue Vase saluted smartly, turned, and left. Pensword was happy she was not going to question his odd orders there. He knew the surgeons and doctors would be another story. He looked to Applecore. “Begin talking with the engineers we are bringing.” He paused and looked to the other troops as they silently moved their heads in unison. Lunar Fang was approaching. “All the rest of you, you know your orders. Fall out.”
He turned and walked up to Lunar Fang, bumping his nose with hers. A smile and joy were in his eyes as he looked to his future wife, or mate, as they were called by Thestrals. “Thestral.” he whispered with a smirk.
“It seems you have things well in hoof, human.” She responded. “This will be a monumental event.”
“Yes. And one that will follow us for years to come.” he muttered to her softly. He grinned a little. “Have you thought of the animal we shall jointly hunt?” His grin widened. They both knew their future in the war. So she knew he was going to name an outpost after her. in fact, they didn’t need to tell each other their plans. They already knew it. It was a strange feeling for Pensword to have as well as for Matthew. It seemed that both had come to terms that they were going to remain a pegasus for life, and had, it seemed, gone native.
“I haven’t given it much thought.” Lunar Fang admitted.
“Ah. Then we shall discuss it when you arrive at Fort Triumph in two month’s time.” He looked at Lunar Fang. “My troops will be angry when they find the catacombs of the fort.”
“Shouldn’t they be?” She asked.
“Oh, of course they should be. I know they will be. Which is why I need you to come in two months after they calm down. By that time the entire pass and some of the foothills in Gryphon lands shall be under our flag and the second Thestral City will have been taken from the Gryphons.”
“Nothing will keep me away.” She promised
“Nothing shall keep me from thee either.” he replied with another nose bump.
“Until then.” Lunar Fang smiled. “I must attend to High Chieftess Luna.”
“Of course.” he bowed his head. “May the Gryphons learn to fear the night.” he replied with a small bow and a smirk to Lunar Fang.
“I have no doubt you will teach them.” Lunar fang smiled giving him a peck on the cheek before turning and taking to the sky, flying for the palace.
Pensword paused as he turned to face one of the unicorns, a minor noble, his mind recalled.”Yes, captain?” He asked as he looked at the mare before him.
“Major, is, are you not wanting prisoners?” Pensword only smiled a little.
“Are you questioning my orders, Captain?” he did not let the noble reply. “Because you have a valid point. However, I want to give them a message. No survivors. No parley. They refused when ponies surrendered to them. They refused when my mayor came in peace. This war requires them to feel what their policy is like. I don’t care if you say it is revenge. I know it is.” He turned around to leave the grounds. “Captain,” he paused with his back to her. “You shall follow those orders. I know it is hard, but all will make sense when I fully debrief you at Lord Hurricane’s camp.”
“I can not believe you did that!” Little Willow shouted as she stomped across the room. “What would we have done without you?”
“I saved over a dozen pony’s lives and possibly many more.” Grif responded. “You would have been fine. Hammer Strike would have made sure you’d be looked after.”
“You said we were family.” Little Willow said. “Family doesn’t do that.”
Tall Oak stood, stark and silent as he stared at Griff, anger and hurt burning in his eyes. “We are family. Where you go, we go.” he said. “I do not know what we would do if you do not return to us.”
“Tall Oak, what is the first rule for the strong?” Grif asked him.
“To help the weak.” He responded, his look softening.
“The gryphons didn’t know who I was. They thought I was one of their own. They traded living ponies to let me into their fort. I saved more than a dozen lives with that move.” Grif looked at Little Willow. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
Little Willow sighed as she lowered her face. “Never again, Grif.” She said. “From now on, no more stupid moves. You let us know what you are doing.” Without warning, she took Grif in a loving embrace. Griff’s eyes widened in shock.
Tall Oak slowly joined the hug as well. “Agreed. Let us know if you plan any more moves so we don’t worry. And, if anything, so I can smack you on the head before and after you pull it off.”
The gryphon laughed as he wrapped his wings around them. “Cross my heart, hope to fly, stick a cupcake in my eye.” he swore, receiving odd glances. “I’ll explain later.”
Tall Oak looked at Grif, confused. “I will hold you to that.”
“Listen guys. When we’re done here, things are going to get very frightening very fast.” Grif told them. “We’re going to be in almost constant danger and there will be a few times where things will seem bleak. Always remember: together, we’ll make it through the storm.”
“We are family and one that will stand together or walk to the Golden Fields together.” Tall Oak said, his expression grim.
Grif released them from the hug before retrieving the knives he had taken, offering one to each pony. “Keep these on you. No matter what happens we will be connected as long as you two keep these.” he explained.
Little Willow shot him a questioning look as she took the knife, Tall Oak following suit.
“Now come. I have to talk with Hurricane so we can make plans. Pensword will be here soon.” Grif said as he headed for the door of the tent.
The three smiths looked at each other with worry and concern. Lord Hammer Strike had upon a visit from Princess Luna, holed up in the best forge in the city. They looked at each other as a fourth came back out with a nervous look. “Uh… he won’t talk. I didn’t even see what he is working on in there.” He shook his head. “Still I left a note that we crafted ten more swords for combat and the armor sets are going through their second batch.”
“What gets me.” A mare replied with a heavy smock in front of her, metal tongs poking out of one of the pockets. She shook her mane. “Is he has been in that forge for three days. No pony has seen him come in or out. I heard he has food placed on the doorstep.”
“Nonstop,” The third replied, a pegasus smith. “What worries me is that it is the exact same thing if we can tell. Nothing going in and nothing going out. What did Luna give him?” he paused and decided to breach a subject a few of the apprentices had noticed. “Anypony else feel like it is getting hotter inside? And is he a bit more angry than normal?” They all jumped as they heard the sound of metal shrieking.
“Damn it!” They heard Hammer Strike yell.
“Do not tell me he broke another anvil? Just what did Princess Luna give him?”
The four smiths looked at each other. “Who goes and get the new one?” The Pegasus asked the group. “I think the metalsmiths have another five ready.”
The mare sighed. “I shall. I need to pick up some tools anyway.” She looked to the forge. “I just hope we get to see the end result.”
The first smith smiled. “You get the anvil. We will ask what he is making.” With those words the four split ways: three for the forge, one for the anvil.
The three smiths: a Pegasus, a Unicorn, and an Earth pony all walked into the forge. They shifted a little uncomfortably through the walkway as the temperature rose yet again. “Uh, Milord? Another anvil is on its way. But while we wait, um … may we know what it is that you are working on?”
“Luna commissioned me to work on these damned bones for armor.” He pressed a hoof to his head as he sighed. “Damned Ursa bones.”
“Ursa bones?” The Pegasus Smith balked.
“These bones are by far the most resilient material I have worked with.” Hammer Strike replied.
“Uh, you are talking about that … well, that is to say ... You do realize the Ursa is a myth, ri-?” The Pegasus slowly trailed off as his gaze shifted to the ceiling. He had been trying to avoid making eye contact with Hammer Strike, but now he could see a sight he would never forget in all his days. There, hanging from the ceiling, shining as always, was the hide of the Ursa Major, wrapped up and ready to be crafted into Luna’s robe. “Mother Faust in the sky. They are real,” He swore. “You ... Princess Luna wishes to wear this? What ever for?”
“If I can barely forge this material, how do you think it does for armor?” Hammer Strike asked with a flat expression.
The Unicorn paused, staring at the cracked Anvil. “Why do I feel like that is going to become some relic?” He shook his head. “What am I saying? With Luna wearing that, she will be nigh invincible.”
The Earth Pony smith just kept staring at the hide. “I can see the night sky. Those constellations, the way they’re placed. It is like an image of our night sky in the fall.” He looked back to Lord Hammer Strike. “Is this hide going to be part of the armor?”
“We shall see.” He responded.
“Lord Hammer Strike, I have three more anvils for you.” The mare smith replied as she walked into the forge, the anvils lay on a sled behind her. “Come on, you three. We need to get this one in place so he can get back to work. The other two are back ups for you. Another five will be ready tomorrow and that is all we have in Whinnysberg that we can lend. An order is out for more anvils to some of the outlying towns.”
“Thank you for the assistance.” Hammer said aloud.
“You are welcome, Milord. May you achieve your goals soon.”
Pensword looked from the sky to the ground as his troops marched into the camp of Lord Hurricane. He smiled to himself as he looked upon his troops and the captured colors of the enemy unit from Mountainside Falls. He knew it would cause confusion. Still, he was pleased with his troops using the flag of the enemy. He looked to the west and the foothills that would lead to Fort Triumph. What caused a worry to cross his features was the fact the Gryphons had built a military outpost that allowed them to attack and defend at their leisure. Because of this they had to change locations. Still, it had been an attack and at the moment the word had not come whether they saw Grif or not. Thankfully, the attack was not too serious. Pensword had the feeling it was just to drive the ponies away, not to capture or destroy units. There were no deaths. A few were wounded, however, and in need of medical attention. Blue Vase was on it immediately, followed by an entourage of some very confused doctors who were being reprimanded for doing what they had been practicing all their life.
Pensword smiled as his troops came forward, adding strength to Colonel Hurricane. Strength that they both knew would be needed if they were to have any chance of taking the outpost. Pensword finally alighted on the ground and trotted towards the command tents. He was planning to implement operation Nightmare upon the outpost to test and refine the tactic. He would use for Fort Triumph as a guineapig. His eyes roamed the sky. He could read the signs of what had to be the giant storm front they had discussed previously. Pensword’s face grew dark as he approached the tent . “They will find that we rule the sky this day.”
Currently Hurricane was going over the schematics for the fort that Grif had stolen from the Commander’s office while Grif examined the plans Hurricane had decided on should they be attacked again. While Hurricane looked tired and worn from the fighting, Grif seemed to be exuding an excited aura, like a predator before the hunt. The gryphon’s face perked up from his reading as Pensword entered.
“Ah. Welcome back, my friend. I trust your journey was productive?” he asked.
Pensword smiled. “My friend, I come bearing the strength of twenty Thestral Warriors. Lunar Fang shall march to Fillydelphia with thirty thestral warriors and Unity shall play host to the rest of the Thestrals for defense until we call for more.” He walked to stand next to Grif. “I also won the permission of the Lion Tribe to court Lunar Fang.” he replied with a happy smile. “Now, then, where is this outpost that attacked us? I want to be ready and see how we fight before we go after Triumph. Also, taking an outpost will mean we have a prebuilt defensive structure to raid from.”
“Your friend here took a risk.” Hurricane said bringing the schematics over to Pensword. “We have the entire fort on paper and several easy entrances.” he laughed.
“How did he risk his life?” he asked with a bored expression. “Get captured then steal the items from the inside?” he paused and looked at Grif. “I know you too well, my friend. Still, what do you have to show?”
“There is a grate here where they’ve diverted a stream for water.” Grif said, walking over and tracing along a map with his tallon. “Also, it appears there is, or at least was, a former tunnel to a cellar here.” Grif circled a spot. “Our earth ponies may be able to reopen it if they can get close enough.”
“That will work. They shall have a storm to hide their work under. Plus, give us three days and the Gryphons will be loopy.” Pensword smiled a little as he looked to Hurricane. “We will attack with Nightmares first. Then, as they fall to mental exhaustion, we shall encircle them with our troops and start digging our way into the fort. Thestrals will attack from the sky. Our Unicorns shall breach the walls with teleportation. Others shall attack from the cellars. It shall be as if the dead were bringing vengeance upon their heads.” he looked to Applecore. “The commander is to be left untouched. If he is to die, then it shall be by my own hoof.” he turned to looked at the paper map. “No one harms my sister.” he growled under his breath.
“I’ve recovered several documents about marching orders as well as a reassignment list that I will be keeping hold of for personal reasons.” Grif noted.
“Good. I want personal updates once in a while and an immediate report when you achieve an objective. I want a copy as well so I may know and keep track of any that I may find myself. I shall not hunt the enemy, but if they wander into my sights I shall not let them go.” He looked to Lord Hurricane. “Something personal. Please do not ask.” He looked back to the map. “Still, let the troops rest today, tomorrow, and the third day. We march to the outpost to try our skills. I want to cut them off of their outer whiskers first. Encircle them and entrap them. I do not want them sealing us off from reinforcements when we need them.”
“Then it’s a good thing we finished the first of the ballista yesterday.” Grif said. “We will be able to pin them down well outside of archery range.”
Pensword smiled, his fangs gleaming in the light of the tent. “Good, good. They will focus on that and will lose men as we attack from the trees. We shall show that we shall prevail. Equestria wins from now on.”
Grif reached out and grasped Pensword’s leg at the bend. “Then to death or glory, my friend.”
Pensword nodded his head and put his hoof on his free talon. “Death or glory. I think Glory would be best for us, though the gryphons may want to see us die.”
“Well lets disappoint them then.” Hurricane laughed, clapping both on the back.
Pensword nodded his head. “Then we shall live and start families and raise them. We shall live to show them just how resilient we are.”
“Then let’s get to work. I want to greet that bride of yours from the turrets of triumph, Pensword.” Grif laughed.
Pensword grinned. “Indeed. So, shall we focus on the outpost? I think Lunar Fang will enjoy it very much.”
“Come, let me show you what we have planned.” Hurricane brushed Pensword over to the planning table. Pensword looked up from the table quickly and back down. He smiled a little. Father and Son were planning together. Hurricane teaching Hurricane the art their house was famous for: The art of war. Pensword smiled even more as he looked back down. Earth had an art of war by Sun Tzu. Equestria had a book by Commander Hurricane, one that he intended to bring back with him to the present.
Lunar Fang looked from a tree as she listened with her ears. What she heard worried her. There was no mistaking. The voices, the shrieks, the raucous laughter, it had to be a forward scouting party of Gryphons. Right now the ponies were more apt to run from the Gryphons than stand and fight. Her wing touched a scroll for Hammer Strike when they would meet again.
She tensed as the scouting party passed through their region. She gave the signal and with an mighty cry the trees exploded with Thestrals as they descended upon the Gryphons. The battle was short, leaving one Thestral dead and the Gryphon scouting party taken out. She looked to the bushes where they had hidden their supplies. They quickly stripped the Gryphons of their supplies and parchments to add to their gear and kept moving forward. She landed as one of the warriors from the Manticore Clan approached her. She sniffed a little as she gestured with her hoof to remove the wings of the Gryphons. She found that she could not see much past the anger that burned in her belly for what these troops had done to her precious Pensword’s home. “Check the list. Identify any who might have been part of the attack. If so, remove their flight feathers and have them sent to Pensword.”
“Permission to loot the weapons?” One of the viper clan asked.
“Permission granted. I would like to see the looks on their faces when we use their own weapons against them.” She smiled a little. “I Wonder what Lord Hammer Strike would have to say about their weapons.” she muttered to herself as she walked through the scene.
The bear tribe had taken it upon themselves to dig a grave for the fallen thestral. It wasn’t especially deep but it was more than any of the gryphons were given as the body was laid to rest. All the thestrals gathered around their comrade and bowed their head in respect for his bravery. No words were spoken. None really needed to be at the moment. The tribe would hold a formal ceremony for the lost when word reached them and with war on the horizon there would be many more to mourn.
Lunar Fang looked at the site for a moment longer then up again to those warriors gathered around her. “We move silently now. We do not know when another scout will come by. Our goal is to get to Fillydelphia as quickly and stealthily as possible. These gryphons appear to have delved deeper into Equestrian lands then I thought.”
“Let us hope the battles to come have the gryphons as self assured as they were today.” One of the fox tribe noted. “Surprise is our greatest ally.”
Lunar Fang nodded her head in response, knowing of the war to come and the horrors that lay in wait. “They shall have confidence, but they shall slowly focus on key areas. Those that can become thorns in their military campaign.” She looked to the Thestral from the fox clan. “They shall attack any city that claims to hold a commander in it.” She smirked a little. “I might prepare a letter for High Chieftess Luna to cause mayhem in the ranks of the Gryphon Military. They will expect a Commander to be appointed soon.”
“Why the pegasi don’t simply make a city within the clouds is beyond me.” One Thestral of the lion tribe remarked. “If they are the brunt of Equestria’s military why not have a mobile fortress ready?”
Lunar Fang looked to the Lion Tribe Thestral. “Because,” She spoke with a smirk in her voice. “As Lord Hammer Strike told me, It was to bring equality to the tribes to have the Pegasi live with the other tribes. I see that changing after this war.” She finished, knowing only too well that Cloudsdale was being formed right now by her future mate to attack Fort Triumph.
“Lunar Fang. We may need to pick up our speed” one Thestral spoke up, his armor denoting him a member of the wolf clan as he brought her a slip of parchment. “There is a full scale attack heading for Fillydelphia.”
Lunar Fang looked at the parchment and the Gryphon writing on it. “Right. Double time. Get me the emergency fire. We must warn Hammer Strike to march to Fillydelphia as soon as possible.”
Hammer Strike stared at the finished armor, a small smile on his face as he realised it was finally complete. He did not have to break anymore anvils for it.
The chestplate was made of polished ebony reinforced bone plates, carved into it were stars that scattered about until they reached the edge. The edges contained the inscribed symbols of every animal that the thestral chiefs were named after. Viper, Manticore, Wolf, Dragon, Lion, Bear, and Fox. The pauldrons were made from thick articulated plates of evony with bits of Ursa fur coming out of the sides to add more defense to any possible gaps. With it, Hammer Strike had included a skirt of ursa fur with enough length to cover the flanks.
The helmet was also made from ebony in the shape of a bear head with parts of the ursas fangs for the open maw. In the center of the helmet a carved star shone brightly, a crescent moon circling a hole that had been carefully bored to fit Luna’s horn.
Plates of ebony and reinforced bone were made for each leg with chainmail heading up to finish the overall structure of the armor.
Giving it a final look over, he nodded to himself, accepting the final piece. His ear twitched ever so slightly, giving him enough information to know somepony was in the room. “This is the final product, Luna.”
“How is it thou canst always tell we are here?” Luna asked, walking out of the shadows.
“I have learned to notice these things.” Hammer Strike replied. “So. What do you think?” He said as he turned towards her.
“It is spectacular.” Luna said, awestruck. “We admit, when we heard thou wast setting out for Fillydelphia we feared that thou wouldst not have this done in time.” Luna approached the armor and placed a hoof on the chest piece. “We should never have doubted thee.”
“You and your sister tend to.” He chuckled. “But I do have some rules before you are to truly have this armor.”
“Of course. Let us hear them.” Luna said eagerly.
“One: you are to keep this armor maintained.” He said. “I spent a week of nonstop work shaping this. Should you have it broken due to a lack of maintenance, we will have words.”
“Two: if you notice anything wrong with it shapewise, you are to alert me as soon as possible. The longer you let it sit in that form, the worse it can become.”
“These seem like good rules for any set of armor.” Luna noted.
“I am saying these because it took me a week to do what I do in a few hours because of that blasted material. I broke nine anvils trying to shape it.” Hammer said in response. “And now, the final rule.” Hammer strike said, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Have fun using it. I spent far too long for you not to enjoy it.”
“Have you ever known a battle we did not enjoy ourselves in?” Luna asked him with a smile that for almost any other pony would leave them scared.
“The ones in which you had no true opposition.” He replied.
“Touche.” Luna responded. “This must be quite the strong material if it took thee a whole week.” She said, examining it. “Thus any other smith would have gone six months trying to work with it.”
“Which is why I shall repeat this. Should it become weaker due to lack of maintenance, or if it is forgotten about and decays I will bring hell to your doorstep.” He said, grimly.
Before Luna could respond two clouds formed before her horn before solidifying into two scrolls. She blinked as her magic took hold of the scrolls. She opened the first one before moving it to Hammer Strike as she opened the second scroll, letting Hammer Strike read the first.
Hammer Strike’s eyes scanned the scroll quickly,
‘Hammer Strike,
Plans have come to light in my march towards Fillydelphia that the Gryphons are planning the attack sooner than we had anticipated. They are already three day’s march away. This is by land. They are flying and outpacing their supply trains. We need you to be there with armor and supplies. If Luna can, we need our high chieftess to bring terror to the Gryphons as they still think she is dead. Let a ‘dead warrior’ fight them.’
Reaching the end, he sighed. “Wonderful.”
“It seems thou witl be marching sooner than thou hast expected.” Luna noted, opening her scroll.
“Certainly seems like it. I guess we are to part ways now.” He said. “For you have your duties and I have mine. Just remember, Luna. Hell. To your doorstep.” He said before sighing. “I have to prepare…” He muttered to himself.
“Hammer Strike, if we neglect thine creation, we shall bring hell to our own doorstep.” Luna said, lifting the armor in her magic.
Unity stood full of excitement once more as armed unicorns, earth ponies, pegasi,and thestral warriors assembled in their blocks. Princess Luna stood on a balcony above them and the pony’s who had gathered to witness the proceedings. Currently, she was dressed in her new armor save for the helmet which sat on a table by her side. Meteor Impact was strapped to her back on a sturdy weapon harness.
She eyed the assembled ponies below her. Celestia was currently sending letters to see if support would arrive from any of the other nations of Equis.
The older Unicorns, steeped in tradition, were standing aghast at the sight of their princess, albeit one that they rarely thought of or saw regularly. Yet there she stood, going feral in that ghastly armor.
The Pegasi stared silently as ancient feelings and not quite dormant emotions of past battles stirred their blood. Their expert eyes could easily tell what the unicorn lords had hoped against in vain. This armor was meant to protect in battle, not to parade around for show. Still they were the most attentive. They were almost wanting to make a show of being the better pony to the new additions to their troops.
Crammed in shadows, on roofs, and in alleyways, Thestrals looked on as they stared with adoration and literal joy at this scene. They were silent, hanging on the silence while ponies around them chattered and gossipped.
The Earth ponies were the most silent, having been farmers and more down to earth. To them, this was just another small change. The nation was at war and they were going to fight. So what if one of the rulers was wearing different armor. So what if they had creatures that lived in the night? They looked like Ponies and princess Luna said they were ponies. So they would treat them as ponies. Much like their new Thestral comments, they stayed silent. The chattiest of the groups, as usual, were the unicorns.
Luna looked down upon them. She had neither a prepared speech nor any kind of aid. whatever she said now would have to be straight from her own head. She took a deep breath before she summoned the royal voice. “OUR LITTLE PONIES OF EQUESTRIA!” she spoke. “FOR THE FIRST TIME WE STAND BEFORE THEE COMPLETE, REPRESENTING NOT THE THREE PONY TRIBES, BUT THE FOUR PONIES OF OUR NATION, POSSESSING THE HORN OF THE UNICORN, THE STRENGTH OF THE EARTH PONY, THE WINGS OF THE PEGASUS, AND QUITE PROUDLY, THE FANGS OF THE THESTRALS.” she took a moment to show off the corresponding parts of her body. “BUT WE DO NOT APPROACH THEE TODAY AS THY PRINCESS, NOR AS THY CHIEFTESS. WE APPROACH THEE AS A PONY, A PONY ASKING THEE TO FOLLOW US, TO HELP US TO STOP A MENACE THAT THREATENS OUR GREAT LAND, EVERY STALLION, MARE, AND FOAL. WE REQUEST THAT YOU FOLLOW US TO PROTECT YOUR FILLIES AND YOUR COLTS. TO PROTECT YOUR MATES AND YOUR PARENTS. THE GRYPHONS HAVE DECIDED WE ARE CATTLE. THEY HAVE CHOSEN THAT WE SHALL BE HUNTED AND KILLED FOR MEAT LIKE THE DEER THAT RUNS IN THE WOODS. WILL WE ACCEPT THEIR JUDGEMENT?” she asked them “OR WILL WE SAY ‘NAY! NAY WE SHALL NOT FALL SILENTLY FOR THEIR DINNER, NAY! WE SHALL NOT GO TO OUR DEATHS EASILY FOR THEM. I ASK THEE NOW, WILT THOU FOLLOW ME?”
What followed was a roar that some would later say could be heard all over the land. A yell that carried the conviction of a nation willing to defend itself; a nation that once the news had spread what was happening, was galvanizing. The nation and the troops gathered in Unity at that moment showed the spirit of the city’s name. Poets would later say that any Gryphon that stood upon Equestrian soil felt an unearthly chill down their spine. Still, the roar lasted for a good five minutes and so great as the clamour that not even the Royal Canterlot voice could penetrate. Slowly, it tapered off and Princess Luna, Warrior Luna, could speak once more.
“THIS IS A MESSAGE TO PONY KIND, THE GOOD AND THE EVIL. THIS IS WAR! TO THE SOLDIER, THE CIVILIAN, THE MARTYR, THE VICTIM, THIS IS WAR! WHETHER THEY ATTACK US FROM THE RIGHT, OR FROM THE LEFT, WE WILL FIGHT TO THE DEATH! FOLLOW US, PONIES OF EQUESTRIA. AND LET US SHOW THEM THAT THERE IS STRENGTH IN OUR HOOVES AND FIRE IN OUR HEARTS! TO DEATH OR TO GLORY!” Luna unstrapped meteor impact and held it high in the air as she spread her wings.
The Pegasi took to the sky with the Thestrals. The Earth Ponies began to stomp the ground with their hooves. The Unicorns only stood still but held a stance of pride. Not in themselves for once, but for an entire nation. As one, the troops of Unity began to march to the gates, leading off towards the attack upon the western shorelines, Fillydelphia being one of the main cities.
As Celestia looked from a side window a slight frown crossed her muzzle for a moment. Then it was gone. So quick was its flight that even she was not sure if it had been there. “Prepare the home guard for defensive stations. Unity shall stand.” She turned to walk to the inner sanctum of the castle. A moment later a captain from her personal guard appeared at her side. “Prepare our troops and our personal armor. We shall lead a strike to the Northeast. The Mountain passes are open and we know not what passes are being used by the Gryphons outside of Triumph pass.” She paused at the pair of double doors. “It is time to lead the houses of war in our campaigns, as well as choose a Commander to lead the war effort.”
“Good-bye, sister.” Luna said as she entered the room. “I hope we meet again when all is well.” She reached out a hoof to her sister.
Celestia took the hoof with her own. “We shall meet again. This war shall be the last one with the Gryphons; even if we have to bring the war to the Emperor’s feet in his mighty fortress capital on the sea.”
“Until the sun and moon eclipse again.” Luna bowed her head releasing her sisters hoof and turning for the doorway.
“Mother watch over your steps, sister.” Celestia whispered in return as she watched her depart from the small sanctum before the hall of lords. “She will have many to watch these coming years.”
Celestia stood once again before the assembled nobles. However, this time it was much less a headache then the last. War was no longer something far away that the nobles could bicker about. And most of the lesser nobles were not allowed to attend the council. Currently Celestia found herself only before nobles of rank or ministers of the government.
“As such, the King of Zebrica has offered us support in the way of natural resources to aid us in our defence.” Celestia was just finishing a statement of accounts from foreign parties. Equestria was still new on the world scale and as such her relations with other nations were still developing. Few if any nations had offered any kind of support. Fortunately Luna had met the zebras favorably at an earlier date. “Now I trust we are agreed that war is to be declared with Gryphonia until such a time as we have secured Equestria’s safety?” She looked around the room.
“That is correct.” A Pegasus in full armor replied as he looked to the other ministers. “The nobles have already drafted a form of service for all able-bodied military within their domains and they shall be marching out over the next couple of months from their holds. Some of the noble homes which cannot field troops shall be shipping a tithe of their food produced to feed the troops. Others shall allow housing upon their lands. The speaker for House Strike has stated that the forges during the war are open for master smiths to use if needed and supplemental weapons to elite troops.”
Celestia nodded. “And the houses agree that funds shall be allotted from everypony’s personal treasury to aid with the war effort up to and including our own royal treasury?” Celestia looked around.
“That is correct.” Her royal treasurer replied with a bow of her head. “All we need to do is have thee craft the words of war, and we shall all sign it before it is shipped to the throne of Gryphonia.”
“Then let it be known that on this day, Twenty fifth April, 125 ADF, We of Equestria, her princesses, her lords, her ponies, are at war with the empire of Gryphonia. We find the enemy, Gryphonia guilty of committing heinous and immoral acts toward our nation that has forced this declaration upon us. Let it be known that our soldiers will be attacking the Gryphonian army on sight and without warning. Quarter shall only be given to those who cease all hostility. By the Sun and the Moon it shall be written and by Sun and Moon it is done!” The declaration was written, immediately followed by the usual royal ending. “HRH, Princess Celestia of Equestria.” And with that Celestia stomped her hoof by her name.
What followed was a procession of the noble houses as they stamped either their hoof or a seal of their house. Each one either taking a moment to pause to sign the document. Others could signed with a look of iritance. Those in the room knew that any scheming or plotting was being put on hold. This war was for survival and all would be needing to wait and see what was to come next. Maybe a noble would be captured or become injured in the battlefield. All any of the nobles knew was that now, now they needed to use their energies and scheming to win a war and beat back something that wished to destroy all that they and their families had worked so hard to earn.
At the moment, Hammer Strike and his apprentices found themselves in Fillydelphia. Luna had thankfully teleported them on request due to Hammer Strike wanting to get to work as soon as possible. The apprentices were not told why they were to get to Fillydelphia by teleport rather than walking, and some noticed that Hammer Strike seemed to want to get to work faster than he normally would.
“Is something wrong, Lord Hammer Strike?” One of them asked as she worked to get the metal into the smelter.
“More in the sense of time, really. We have three days to work as fast as possible due to an incoming Griffon attack.” He turned to face her. “Which is why I said we have to work faster than normal. I will not leave a town defenseless in a time of need.”
“Three days to equip a full town?” The apprentice asked.
“We can do this if we work quickly.” Hammer Strike said. “Or at least produce enough to make a difference.”
“Three days? Three days to get a town ready? Do you expect us to all be like you?”
“I do not expect you to work like I do. I only expect you to work your best.” Hammer replied as he refocused on his current project. “Even if we can not fully equip this town, we can at least make a difference in the battle to come.”
“Do you want us to focus on armor or weapons, Master Smith?” the same Earth Pony asked, his ears flattened against his head.
“Focus on weapons.” Hammer Strike replied.
The apprentices murmured amongst themselves but moved as fast as they could to get everything prepared. Molds were set in place, metal was melted and poured, and soon the forges rang with the music of mallets and grind stones at work.
Pensword glared from the rain soaked branches near Gryphon Pass. This was what he wanted to know this place as. That was what his maps called it to confuse the enemy and to bring his tears to this outpost. He smiled as the cloud boomed with thunder and lightning.
Grif stood beside him, armor shined to a blinding sheen, swords and knives sharpened to a hair splitting edge. His quiver was full to bursting with freshly fletched arrows. The gryphon was grim faced as he looked down at his friend. Nothing needed to be said between them. They both knew what the other was thinking. They were going for blood.
Pensword looked to his left as a Thestral slipped into view. “They have had four days of being plagued by the nightmares. They are ready for your attack now.” The Warrior looked to the walls of the outpost. “All warriors are ready at your command.”
“Are you going to be okay?” Grif asked.
Pensword looked at the outpost. “No.” He said, honestly. “I won’t be well for a while. This will need to happen. We have to seal this pass up. Revenge will never fill the hole that they tore in me.” Pensword fell silent. “That will only be filled or shored up by raising a family of my own. Today, however, I plan on bringing what they did to the frontier towns back on their very own heads.”
“It’s not about revenge.” Grif said. “Well, it is for me. They hurt you, so I want revenge. But for you it’s about something closer.” Grif smiled grimly. “You’re a better person than I am. You want to stop them from doing what they did to you to someone else. I’m much more petty.”
“Yet we have the same goal. If you find a red feathered Gryphon almost untouched by scars, leave him tied up. He is my only personal target.” Pensword allowed a dark tone to leak into voice. He waited a moment later before he nodded to Grif. “Time to give the war cry to attack the outpost. A Gryphon war cry will work nicely till we capture a Gryphon horn.”
“Gryphons rarely use war cries.” Grif smiled as he pulled out his bow. “Pick a target.”
“Gryphon. He is leaning over the walls to your left. He appears to be half dazed already.” Pensword did not show emotion at the order.
Grif motioned for a torchbearer to bring the lit torch over. Lighting the front of the arrow on fire he pulled back the bow and took aim. Moments later the flaming arrow impaled itself in the gryphon’s side through the wing. The fire instantly spread across the gryphons form as he screamed and the others around him shot to attention as their comrade died a painful death.
From the rain clouds and the forest Thestrals attacked the walls. A ballista fired a flaming arrow into the wooden doors set in a stone arch. Pensword waited a moment longer before he charged forward to attack with his men.”
Grif fired several more shots, taking out as many archers as he could. The nightmare tactic had worked beautifully, messing up their aim with grogginess. For every shower of arrows few, if any, grazed their mark. Folding his bow he took to the air, working hard to get above the cloud. Then he dived, pushing a small chunk of cloud in front of him. The water collecting on his feathers made them heavy and he knew he would be unable to fly when he landed. Still, he dived on, using the cloud to cushion his impact with the ground. Drawing his blades Grif charged the first gryphon to meet his gaze.
From the gates behind Grif the unicorn mages blasted the doors off the hinges making for a dramatic effect as he landed and charged said Gryphon. Behind him and through the breach came grounded Pegasi, Unicorns charging with shield spells in front to protect from projectiles. From the sky Thestrals fell like shadow beasts upon the panicked Gryphons, a few of them actually killing each other in the confusion.
Slowly, they marched from the hole in full armor that he had picked from Hammer Strike and wielding blades that would not technically be made or even conceived for another decade. Pensword looked almost like an armored ghost as he had painted on one palindrome the City crest of Mountainside Falls, the other from the Emperor’s Beaks one hundred first. His eyes roamed around as he finished walking in before he spread his wings and charged a cluster of sleep weary Gryphons that had tried to gather on his right. They were holding weapons and shaking in fear, exhaustion, and confusion.
Grif never let up his assault, ever pushing forward as he wielded his twin swords like a whirlwind of death and blood. the gryphon’s natural adrenaline glands worked overtime as he moved. Barely taking stock of the glances and scratches grif looked at the fear in the eyes of his fellow gryphons as the equestrian forces fell upon them and drank it in with a primal thirst. The gryphon kept his focus on the distance, using his hearing and other sharpened senses to cover his immediate front. every time a gryphon raised his bow he found himself growing a blade out of his throat or chest. One unlucky sniper fell to the ground with a blade lodged in his eye, both pieces of his bow falling to the ground with him.
Pensword stood on the walkways, helping clear them of enemy troops. Twenty minutes later they had secured the courtyard and walls. The remaining Gryphons had fallen back and were fortifying the inner chambers. Pensword looked at his men, then to the doors. “Breach all the doors, but proceed with caution. Do not give them time to set traps.” They heard a gurgle from inside. Pensword looked to the walls. “Unless they set them off themselves in their sleep addled state.” His voice caused a few dark chuckles to spread among the troops as a league of ten earth ponies worked a battering ram to the main doors. Smaller rams were being placed at the doors that would lead from the walls to the interior. The constant drum of the iron smashing wood filled the air. The upper doors fell first, causing holes to appear and allowing ponies to work on taking the interior. It would be slow going. Bottlenecks traps, blind corners, all the tools he had used in his graduation exercise were the enemy’s advantage now. Still, they would continue the attack and take this outpost.
Grif placed both swords into the ground and drew his stilettos. He gave pensword a nod before he made his way inside, flying inches above the ground. It was a game of cat and mouse now. And for the first time in a very long history, the cats had become the mice in a sense of ironic justice.
Pensword entered, following a group of thestrals, parts of his personal guard unit. He looked to the courtyard where the Hurricanes were staying behind a wooden wall that would become a field hospital and command post for the moment. He looked back and charged into the room, ignoring the two dead Gryphons against the walls as he moved forward. He slowed his steps as he saw Ms. Saltwater looking at one door in particular, glaring. Pensword looked to his old school teacher and gave a curt nod before kicking the door with his iron hooves. He charged in and attacked the small room. It was, or had been, a storage room that had been emptied. Three gryphons lay huddled together in fear. A fourth lay under the door as Pensword entered the room. He came back out a few moments later and looked to Ms. Saltwater. “Did I get him?” he asked her.
“Yeah, you did. I think if I can, I’ll be teaching him Equestrian History. That is, if they let me.” She replied with a ghostly chuckle. “May Faust continue to watch over you and not call you home till you have avenged every one of us.” She wished as she slowly faded.
Pensword looked to his left as his ears heard the clash of metal on metal. He started that way, always pausing to smash a door in if it was closed. The Gryphons who were still alive had one last fear settle into their stomachs. They were not going to surrender to these prey animals. Something about that caused a break in morale. It was in that one moment that a guard tripped, losing his balance and creating an opening. Three gryphons took it, darting out a window for freedom and flying for all they were worth. All three would hope to make to Fort Triumph to give warning to the fortress of the impending battle and their horrific defeat.
Lunar Fang hurried her troops into the town proper. They had been delayed in their march and now mere hours separated them from the gryphon’s first attack. Locating the forges had been surprisingly easy given the thick black smoke rising from the building as the overworked forges burned on. She had ordered her troops to prepare for outfitting as she entered the forges, looking for Hammer Strike.
She barely had time to look around herself. The troops paused, gaping in the cobblestone square. The forge was a forge no longer. It had expanded into a massive metal shop.Tents had been erected, as hot fire pits burned, multiple anvilles singing in time to the beating of the hammers of the forge. The water hissed. The rhythm of the smithy was in full swing, but it was frantic. Lining the square, several shops and inns lay in wait. What had once been the center of activity, however, was now desolate, abandoned of all ponies. In the center of the great square stood a magnificent fountain, Two unicorns stood on either side of a floating pegasus, spouting water from their horns as they stared regally. The pegasus shot arcs of sparkling water from its feathers as it “hovered” in its place.
The most magnificent sight of all stood across the way. A massive cathedral stood, gloriously over the troops. They gaped as they gazed on the massive stained glass rendering of the great Faust. Many ponies bowed to their knees and said a hasty prayer for good luck and a hasty victory. Others prayed for the safety of loved ones and courage to press on. All were humbled by her gaze as the image seemed to peer into their very souls. The troops clopped their hooves on the cobblestones nervously. They knew they needed to get this city fortified as soon as possible, but an unarmored pony was a dead pony. They waited as Lunar Fang weaved through the tents to the heart of the forges. Her ears soon locked on a familiar voice.
“Yes, yes. I know that was the second anvil in the hour, I am just stressed because of what is coming our way, and how little time we have.” She heard Hammer Strike reply to someone, his back to the entrance.
“Your earnest effort will never be in question, Lord Hammer Strike.” Lunar Fang spoke as she followed the sound to him.
Turning on the spot he faced Lunar Fang. “Ah, Hello Lunar Fang. How goes?” He asked.
“Well I have a group of on edge, somewhat exhausted troops outside, and I am about to use them to defend a town from a massive attack.” She said. “So I am as good as can be given the situation.”
“Better than what it could be. Come, I need to work on armor for you all.” Hammer Strike said. “We have no time to wait. You will all be able to relax for some time, however long we have that is, afterwards.”
“I’m right behind you. The rest are waiting for however you want them to proceed.” Lunar Fang responded.
“How many?”
“Four hundred ponies. Roughly half of them are thestrals, the rest are interspersed with mostly pegasi.” Lunar Fang answered.
Hammer Strike hummed to himself before turning towards the others in the forge. “Stop your current projects. We need to get these troops prepared. I want you to get them armored up in any of the sets that are finished. And give them each a weapon that they like, or leave them with what they have.” He called out before he turned to Lunar Fang. “Come, I need to get your measurements. Then I’ll get you a set of armor.”
Lunar Fang followed Hammer Strike as quickly as possible.
The lone Gryphon flew far past the point that any normal sane Gryphon would have stopped. Already his two companions had fallen to the ground from exhaustion and lack of three days of sleep. Now almost four days since the nightmares came and the attack from ghosts? Wraiths? He was not sure but he had to tell, he felt that there was something behind him, hunting him. He screeched as he realized he had dropped a little and dozed off. He quickly regained his altitude and sighed in relief as he finally saw the walls of Fort Triumph. “To arms, To arms.” he called, unsure of how his voice was rising and falling. He had to warn his brothers in feathers. “Prepare. Prepare.” he cried as he rose over the wall and finally collapsed to the ground in a heap of feather, fur, and limbs. He breathed heavily, his eyes moving frantically around his surroundings.
The CO rushed towards him. “Get ahold of yourself, soldier!” He growled. “What happened?”
“Ghosts… I, There were Pegasi who had become half bat. They had a fallen Gryphon avenging us. Some dead warrior walking again, and one who leads nothing but the prey we have eaten.” He raved. “Three days of nothing but fears and nightmares. We could not sleep at all. They control our dreams and they are coming here. They will kill us all.” He yelled as he moved a talon to grip his commanders shirt. The red plumaged Gryphon moved his face closer to the red feathered Commander. “There was a pony. A Pegasus that had not gone fully bat yet, who wore armor that protected all. His wings would cut you down. He carried no blade, yet…. yet he has the crest of that mountain town. As well as the crest of the one o first. He took out part of the one o first.”
Before the commander could respond the gryphon’s body stiffened and fell to the ground, a large shaft sticking out of his back. A loud cry echoed from the clouds, a challenge to triumph. the officer ordered the archers to fire, but likely the gryphon who had fired on them was already gone.
“Double the guard.” he ordered. “barricade the gate and prepare for an attack. Looks like the ponies know we’re coming for them.”
“Sir, what of the outlying outposts and the supply trains?” A gryphoness spoke as she slowly moved her shield away from the Commander’s head. “Shall we pull them inside the fort? No pony army can take it.”
“Calm yourself, soldier. A few ponies and one rogue gryphon isn’t going to topple us. We are gryphons, we are born to kill! You will warn the supply trains and the other outposts and they will defend themselves,” he ordered. He loved his daughter but she was a female and it would take a lot for her to understand the true meaning of war.
She nodded her head and moved towards a few of the Gryphons on the wall to relay orders to be sent to the other locations. Here another of the guards had approached and was removing the arrow when a scroll was discovered attached to the shaft. On the parchment was something that might have worried a lesser general. Three symbols were on it: three unit crests drawn in cold ink. The symbols of units that the Gryphon Commander knew on a deep and personal level of thought. He knew they would not be reporting back to anything but the winds.
Hammer Strike put his hammer to the side, giving the helmet one last look. Something felt so off about the armor before him, but at the same time it felt right. Looking over his shoulder he saw Lunar Fang distracting herself with sharpening her weapons.
“Lunar Fang. It is finished.” He called out.
The thestral turned to him. “Then let’s get me suited up.”
Hammer gestured towards the armor which was, surprisingly, very familiar to her. The familiar part being that it looked almost exactly like her modified Lunar guard armor from in the present.
“Well at least I won’t need to worry about getting to know it all over again.” She laughed as she moved to attach the greaves.
“What do you mean?” Hammer Strike asked.
“This is the same armor you made me before.” She said as she slid the breastplate on.
“It is? That might explain a few things…” He muttered the last part. “I knew something felt off. So how does it feel? A good fit or no?”
“Perfect.” She said as she slid on her helmet, working the ears into their protectors before swivelling them to make sure they were loose.
“Good, I need to get back to work while the others get your troops equipped. We only have so much time.” He said, turning back to his work station.
“I’ll go and secure the defenses where I can.” She nodded, heading for the door.
Quite suddenly a thestral ran into the room. “Lunar Fang.” He spoke quickly. “Gryphons. On the horizon.”
Lunar Fang charged out of the room and out to the edge of the town. She peered into the horizon.
What she saw terrified her. The armies of the Gryphon’s were marching on talon and hoof. Her mind flashed back to the history Pensword and she had read. These Gryphons were showing that they would dominate this town on their own level. Marching on the ground was, in Gryphon military tradition, saying that they would conquer them.
The banners of many Gryphon prides waved and fluttered on the breeze as the armies paused. The tallest and largest was the royal crest of the Emperor and around that flag were the emblems of the five kings of Gryphonia. The flags and banners fluttered in the breeze. The sound of marching and metal slowly faded as the army stopped. A lone Gryphon stepped forward and yelled out. “Surrender and your lives shall be spared for service to the Emperor. Resist and your lives and afterlife are herewith forfeit.” The Gryphon under the white flag of parley puffed his chest out again began to bellow. “This city belongs to the Emperor and the Southern King. Surrender and your town and homes shall be spared. Resist and we shall not leave anything save the burned out ruins of buildings upon which we shall build our own city. What Say You?”
A moment later a rod of red hot metal landed nearby. A strange pattern of indentations were etched into it. Upon a closer inspection it read. ‘Look up.’ The landing of the metal rod caused the flagbearer behind the Gryphon herald to drop the flag. They both looked up. A moment later the herald dropped dead. A white hot metal rod that had hit him in the face. The other Gryphon turned and raced back as arrows rained from the sky. He made all of six strides before dropping, the arrows piercing his armor and body.
Back at the forge the troops that came with Lunar Fang in the forge stood a distance away in fear, shock, and awe. Hammer Strike leaned against a wall of the forge on his hind hooves as his fore hooves tossed another hot metal rod. It glowed a dull cherry red as it cooled. “Should have thrown a bigger one.” he muttered.
Lunar Fang’s jaw seemed to just hang there as her brain tried to contemplate what just happened. Finally she realized the others where looking to her. “Everypony to arms. Get barricades up. Use anything you can find. Hammer Strike has shown them Equestria will not back down. Now let’s show them just how far their doom will spread!” and with those words, the battle for Fillydelphia began.
A Gryphon slowly lowered a spyglass and looked to one of the Flight Leaders. “Celestia must be desperate. She has called out her ghost.” He said, his voice shaking.
“What are you talking about, scout?” the Flight Leader asked.
“Celestia’s smith. Luna’s teacher.” The Scout muttered, “An Earth Pony, tan like the sand just threw hot metal right from the forge itself at our messenger.” He looked out and let out an involuntary squawk. “Blue coat! Blue Coat!” That one code word seemed to cause even the very winds to pause for a moment.
“He is just one pony.” the Flight Leader said “We knew he was going to be in this war and we are prepared for him.”
The scout looked through the spyglass again. “Yes, but how many ponies shall die in front of him to protect him from his fate?”
“None.” The Flight Leader smiled “All our reports say he will be on the front lines when the time comes. And I will perform the act that will put my name in the scrolls of history till the end of time.”
“As you command, Flight Leader.” The scout replied. “It appears that there is new armor being deployed by the troops. And,” he paused. “They have really become desperate towards us. They have created more of those leather winged Pegasi.”
“The state of their wings means little. A pegasus dies like a pegasus,” he said. “Tell the warriors to prepare the lines.” The Scout nodded to his Flight Leader and moved to relay the message. They would attack soon.
Extended Holiday Chp 37: The Third Gryphon War Act 4
It has always been said that the fields outside of Fillydelphia glowed red from the blood that had been spilt on those grounds. Lunar Fang had no doubt this was true as the fighting carried on. Gryphons and ponies died in large numbers on both sides as the two bodies heaved against one another, two great waves colliding one against the other, neither giving way in their endless struggle. Bodies lay strewn about, covered in lacerations, burns,bruises, and all manner of disfigurements and dismemberments. The sight would haunt many a pony for years to come.
The gryphon charge had been partially broken by the barricades, but as was to be expected with flying creatures, this was a minor setback. They easily glided over the lines of furniture, carts, and other such things that had been used to make their defenses. The gryphons across the line first had not been lucky as the archers had lain in wait. They looked more like pin cushions than warriors as they fell to the ground. Sadly, before the archers could prepare another volley more gryphons streamed into the camp. Soldiers, thestral warriors, and even some civilians had grabbed whatever they could find and charged ahead. That had been several hours ago.
The combat had come to a head and hell descended until finally, the gryphon general sounded the order to pull back and re-group. Ponies sorted through the dead, seeking out friends and relatives, dragging them off for a proper burial. The attitude in Fillydelphia was one of gravity and sorrow. The very air reeked of despair, spreading over the town like a massive fog.
Lunar Fang walked up to the thestral who was heading the effort to bury their lost brothers. “How many?” she asked.
“Near five hundred.”
“And how many of our brothers?” she asked him.
“Around thirty so far.” He responded.
Lunar Fang nodded. “Given the numbers of the gryphons, that is rather low. Not that I’m complaining. Make sure they are sent off properly.”
“I will see to it.” He nodded and left.
Lunar Fang sighed as she made her way to the forge. She needed to talk with Hammer Strike. After a little searching she found him standing on a large wooden workbench next to the furnace. The air reeked of smoke and ash, the temperature felt like the inside of a volcano. An anvil stood, the remains of a hammer lay on top of it, acting as paperweights. The poor thing had shattered from the rapid output of the legendary smith. Spare hammers, tongs, and other equipment littered the work room. Parchments and diagrams lay scattered across the wooden work table and cold stone floor. Some lay crumpled in balls, others were rolled up into scrolls on the side, and others still lay in heaps of ash, mere shreds of their former selves.
“Over five hundred casualties,” She said, not bothering to greet him. “And the sickening thing is, I can’t help but think how mercifully small that number is.”
“As small as it is, it still holds weight.” Hammer Strike replied, putting his quill down.
“I don’t know if we’ll hold out for a second run if they charge us like that again.” She said.
“This town will hold strong.” Hammer Strike replied, still facing the wall. He put a hoof to his head, sighing softly as yet another parchment was crumpled and tossed to the dust pile, bursting into flame mid-arc before landing in the ash where it shrivelled and died.
“I just wish I knew how. The history books never said anything about this. The siege was supposed to be hard, but that was a blitz. If we had been even an hour or so later we wouldn’t have been ready,” Lunar Fang said.
“History does not mention everything. She tends to hide things just as much as she reveals them,” He replied.
Lunar Fang looked to Hammer Strike. “So what’s our plan? You wouldn’t happen to have some diagram for an instant fortification system handy, would you?”
“Large walls set up quickly? I can not do that.” He muttered. “I am going to be honest. I am unsure how, but I do know that we will keep this town.”
“We need something.” Lunar Fang noted.
“I am trying to figure out just what that something could be.” He sighed wearily, using his hoof to gesture to the parchments surrounding them. “I may be able to smith things at a fast rate, but building barricades? I can only design and work so fast.”
“I know.” Lunar Fang sighed. “It’s just ... a few months ago I was just a night guard. Now look where I am,” She said. “Getting ponies killed.”
“Before all of this time nonsense I used to be a civilian. A nobody.” He replied. “Imagine that. I can barely remember it, myself. A normal life. And yet here I am, a smith, a lord, killing those who want me dead....”
“I guess we’re both feeling a bit over our heads, huh?” she said.
“Give it thirty or more years. You tend to forget and lose the feeling…” He replied.
Lunar Fang heaved a sigh. “I hope Pensword is doing better than we are.”
Pensword looked to the building adjoining the west wall of the fort. The large wooden gates lay on the ground as dead and flat as the bodies they had buried. They continued silently repairing the outpost. He paused as a new door, roughly hewn, was placed into the hole and mended to fit the doorjamb. It would make a good temporary measure for now until the entryway could be properly repaired. He looked to the roof. A new set of colors fluttered in the wind. The symbol of the two sisters circled together with the sun and moon as they danced in the wind. Beneath that, the flag of his unit waved proudly in support, followed by the flag of the Gryphon slayers and the captured flag of the unit that destroyed his home town. He turned to the walls and the Thestrals that were patrolling the upper ramparts of the wooden fort. Closing his eyes, he let the sunlight soak his fur. The storm was being broken up for storage and now sunlight poured down, drying the earth from the rain.
Pensword had taken to bathing regularly in the warm daylight of the courtyard. He smiled a little as he returned to writing his letter. “In conclusion, your majesty and great chieftess, I end this letter within the walls of Fort Lunar Fang. Please inform my promised mate that she has a place of refuge for our troops on the front lines.” He smiled, waiting a moment before signing his name. Then he stamped his hoof to the parchment. He let the ink dry before rolling it up and giving it to one of Lord Hurricane’s aids. “Deliver this to Princess Luna as quickly as you can.”
The aid only nodded his head and moved to another part of the fort. A few moments later Lord Hurricane walked over from one of the many construction projects they were working on. This fort had to be prepared for any attempts to reclaim it. “Major.” His voice spoke softly.
“Yes, milord?” Pensword asked in return as he stood, walking beside Lord Hurricane.
“I have received orders to march toward Commandant Supreme Sunrise’s location on the coastal range close to the Gryphon Empire, The Crystal Empire, and the Northern Isles that Grif hails from. It is being projected as a future front that we must hold. If those passes and fortifications fall, the Crystal Empire shall be open to a full assault from the Gryphon Empire. Rumors that I have heard in the dispatches are that two armies are marching towards that region.”
“I wish you luck, then. Shall I be reporting to your son in your absence?” Pensword asked with a raised eyebrow. “I shall provide the help that he needs if possible.”
Hurricane the second shook his head. “Nay. My son has asked that you lead as thou didst during, as he put it, Operation Cougar?” He blinked in confusion as Pensword chuckled.
“Very well. I accept the battlefield promotion. And how long till we can march on Fort Triumph? I am hoping they pull in their troops. The last three days we have had Thestral raiding parties attacking pickett posts and supply camps.” He smirked at Lord Hurricane.
“Yes, yes, and now I see why the Unicorns feared Thestrals and Pegasi joining forces. Our fighting styles compliment one another and we can fight around the clock.”
“And in inclement weather, leather wings don’t have the same problems as feathers.” Pensword paused as his ear twitched. “It appears we have a flight coming in. I think Grif is with them.”
“Very well. I shall leave you to your scheming and plans. Just to let you know, the weather clouds you asked be assembled for Fort Triumph are nearly complete. With the amount of cloud and magic being poured into them it could take years to dissipate.”
Pensword arched an eyebrow. “Why not build a few buildings in it for the battle? Maybe create a Pegasus guard post out of it?”
“A flying fort?” Hurricane muttered. “Never was allowed under peace times. Maybe it could be fun to have a flying city again for Pegasi. I shall take that idea under consideration.”
“As you wish and command.” Pensword replied as he took a wing and slapped him on the shoulder. They were making sure that any snipers that even dared get near them would think they were low ranked soldiers.
Grif patted the dirt over the last shallow grave carefully. He had made a point of burying the gryphons himself and for the most part had left the bodies in a set of shallow trenches lined side by side. However, he had burned the wings of every gryphon in a separate fire. His human mind declared such superstitions unnecessary and childish, but something edged Grif to do it. Every one of these in the trench had hunted, killed, and eaten ponies without a second thought and now they would wander the earth eternally for their crime. The ground around him smelled of rotting flesh, freshly turned earth, and cinders from the previously mentioned fires wafting through the air.
The work had been hard, lasting well through the night and a good part into the day. Tall Oak and Little Willow had offered some help here and there but grif had forced himself to do most of the labour. His body groaned in angry protest and his stomach bellowed for nourishment. He sighed as he wiped his brow, looking at a single wooden marker set at the end of the furrows near the road some 250 yards from the gate: a solemn warning telling what had happened to them and why it had happened. It was only a few feet away from the road. Anypony would see it in passing until it eventually rotted away. By that time, Grif hoped the green grass would cover the mounds of freshly turned soil, eventually erasing the graves from history. Somewhere deep in Grif’s mind Taze shuddered at the thought of what others might think of his actions, but Grif carried on, stone faced.
No wings. No weapons. No honor. The worst of deaths a gryphon could imagine. Would this be what would happen to him should he be taken? The gryphon laughed to himself. There was a certain sense of assuredness in knowing his future. Knowing that his actions would be damned by his species and yet he would walk from this war with wings attached and with honor to spare for his name. War was a funny thing to put him in the position of the traitor and the hero, the rogue and the paragon. The same crimes that made his own race spit on his very name had him lauded with great praise by the ponies.
“In flander’s fields the poppies grow,” Grif muttered to himself under his breath as he impaled the shovel into the mound. It was done. They had been given a burial and that was more than some enemies would give them. What had been done to them was of little consequence now. They were dead and had moved on.
Grif turned to the outpost and began the slow walk back, having neither energy for flight, nor running, even if there should there be necessity for it. The gryphon decided he would return to the outpost, find himself something to eat, and then sleep. More battles were coming and the chances to extend the same courtesy to his other victims would be rare if they came at all. The third gryphon war had started. The gryphons had struck a blow and Equestria had struck back. The fuse was lit. The boulder had begun its rapid descent down the hill. Now it was up to him to see it through to the end.
Near the outskirts of the town, logs lay strewn about, roped together with soldered metal binds gripping around them, giving them extra reinforcement. Hammer Strike pulled at the rope in his teeth, raising another segment of the log wall they had built. Once he got far enough it fell into place, its movement halting as its metal joint locked into the previous segment. It stood, tall and firm. Rather than risk having the chance of stray arrows and bolts flying into the town, Hammer Strike had designed a rough barricade to raise around the the perimeter.
Letting go of the rope, he exhaled, observing their progress so far. A quarter of the city had been surrounded, which was thankfully the more populated segment. Civilians streamed past as they made their way for the shelters and places of retreat as thestrals and earth ponies guided them along. The thestrals had worked on camouflaging some bunkers to protect the fillies and children. Hammer Strike looked over the segment one last time to make sure it had connected properly before nodding in approval.
Hammer Strike made for the lumber yard at a speedy trot. He needed more logs to complete the barricade. The water sluice was in full swing as tree trunks floated down. Lunar Fang stood with the foreman, overseeing the volunteers who had donated their woodstocks to the defense of the town. Earth Ponies, Thestrals, Pegasi, and Unicorns sweat and worked together, cutting the logs, systematically pumping them through as they prepared them. For the first time in Equestrian history all the walls and petty preconceptions had been torn down. Minor Noble and commoner worked side by side for the common good and the livelihood of colts, mares, and foals. The air buzzed with magic as chips flew through the air. The unicorns were making good time on the trunks the Earth Ponies had dragged in. At this rate, the wall would hopefully be finished by nightfall.
“Are the next segments complete?” Hammer Strike called out to Lunar Fang.
“They are just binding them to the joint now.” Lunar Fang responded.
“Good.” Hammer Strike sighed. “I shall move it when it is ready,” He said, taking a moment to rest. “How go the battles?”
“Bloodier than I would have liked.” Lunar Fang admitted. “But we are holding our own out there.”
“How is the armor holding up for you?”
“It is proving true to your reputation.” She said. “Just a few minor nicks and scrapes.”
“It is difficult to be perfectly defended.” Hammer Strike commented. “At least it is serving you well.”
“I have never doubted it would. I trust your work, Lord Hammer Strike.” She said.
“That is good to know.” He looked over to the now finished segment. “Back to work, it seems…” He muttered as he stood back up.
Pensword stood still upon the parapet as he watched the column streaming away from Fort Lunar Fang. Colonel Hurricane was leaving and he was in charge now. He looked to Captain Hurricane briefly on his left before shifting his gaze back on the horizon. “We march tomorrow. We will leave a token defense here with orders to bunker down while we march. How go the raids to the enemy supply trains and outposts?”
“We are keeping them on their toes.” Hurricane responded. “Admittedly, the thestrals are surprising me with their ingenuity.” He saw Pensword give a now quite familiar smirk. Clearly he was pleased with this news as well as the unspoken compliment.
“Please, continue with your report. I would like to hear of the ingenuity. Also, are you glad we have the Thestrals helping now?” Pensword moved a wing to point to the forest. “Surely by now you shouldn’t be surprised. You had me to spar against back at Fort Jasmine, after all.” Pensword chuckled.
“The other day we were preparing to intercept a supply train on its way to Fort Triumph when I came across Thestrals digging pits. In my ignorance I reminded them that a pitfall trap was hardly even a hindrance to a gryphon at which they simply smiled to themselves and told me the pits were not traps.” He sighed a bit. “I couldn’t figure it out until half my thestral Troops began making a stable cover for the pits while the other half waited inside. They were using the pits to lie in wait. I never saw the gryphons so scared as when bat ponies began rising from the ground, weapons drawn and ready for combat.”
Pensword actually began to laugh. “I am sure that the news and stories shall begin to spread among the Gryphons. Yes, I ordered Grif to let one escape to spread the fear to the next Outpost.” He paused, cutting off his laughter as his face grew serious. “As I said before, we attack tomorrow. Cut off the supply lines and outer posts and they shall become blind to our locations. The dead rising as Bat Ponies.” he spat. “I hate that term,” He muttered. “Still, at least it is only the Gryphons calling us that. I hope none of your troops have used it. Or have they finally been broken of that particular habit?” Pensword turned from the ramparts. He could no longer see the troops marching away to Commandant Supreme Sunrise’s outpost. He had already sent a letter requesting more troops from both Princess Celestia, as well as High Chiefess Luna. He hoped the reply would come soon. He motioned for Hurricane III to follow after him to the main building.
“We have been working on it.” The Captain admitted. “It is not something easily erased from one's vocabulary.” He said, regretfully, as he looked across the expanse. “Still, if you keep leading these battles so fluidly, I do think Thestrals shall be lauded as the heroes of the country.”
“Thank you. Still, I must say that I have yet begun to fight.” Pensword muttered with a sly smirk. “The Gryphons took my pride of home from me. They left it in ruins. And the wounds that they left in that place will remain in my heart for the rest of my days. I shall do far worse to them. I shall humiliate them. They call themselves masters of warfare. I shall show them that a species of prey can be a better commander then they ever could be.” He looked at the door and the flag on the roof. “I am amazed that we had so few casualties. I like using the Dream Walkers. Sleepy and paranoid Gryphons make much better targets.”
“Grif has been working with our engineers to get their firing of the ballistas down. If all goes well, by next attack we shall have even less casualties than we had here.” Hurricane said.
“Good. Was that what I heard this morning? Also, how many have we built now? I hope more than just one for transport.” He paused at the door to the corner tower and nodded to an empty space near it. He held the door open, waited a moment, then walked on through. Hurricane followed after, his brows furrowed in confusion and concern.
“Have you been sleeping alright?” Hurricane asked.
“Yes, I have. Why do you ask?” Pensword asked with a turn before blinking. He had a feeling why, but he had to be sure. He turned his head back to face forward. “I am guessing you have a question. By all means, ask.”
“You have been addressing thin air,” Hurricane said. “It is quite hard to ignore sometimes.”
Pensword paused and looked back at Hurricane. “You were not at Fort Jasmine when ... right before it was abandoned.” He looked around, found an empty room, and ushered the pegasus inside. Barrels of powder and dried fruit lay scattered around the space. There did not appear to be any holes or windows for others to listen, so after a peremptory scan, Pensword got to the point. “Hurricane, how well do you know me? How stable do you think I am?”
“You are by far one of the most sensible ponies i have ever met. This is why such behavior worries me.”
Pensword nodded as he sat down against one of the walls. “Hurricane, do you know how I learned about the fall of my town? How I knew so quickly? Why I marched into Unity already with the war prizes of captured enemy colors and weapons?”
“There were rumors, but I never received the full story. So, no,” he answered. He noticed Pensword motioning with a hoof to go on. “Some say you went mad. Others said Faust herself sent you a vision of your town’s destruction. Some have even said you made a deal with tirek for omnisciency.”
Pensword just stared for a time before he shook head. “There is no way in Equestria I would ever make a deal with Tirek for anything. Of all that, the Faust theory might be the closest. I do not know exactly how, but I lived each life in that town as it was snuffed out.” He grimaced as he recalled the vision once again. “I still feel the phantom pains.” He got up and moved to another wall. “After that, I have seen the ghosts of the dead. I, I let in the Mayor’s wife just now. I cannot tell who is alive or dead unless they walk through a wall or stand in the middle of the table.” He closed his eyes. “The Gryphon Slayers know this, and the Thestrals, but not many others know this outside of you.” He looked up at his friend. “Can you help make sure I maintain control of this unit? I shall not allow any of those lesser nobles or sons of high nobles try to take this command from me. You heard your father. I lead the Troops. I just need noble blood to help cement that order. I have hit the ceiling for unlanded soldiers to rise above their merits, Captain.”
“Then maybe there is still an answer to your problem.” Captain Hurricane clapped a hoof on pensword’s shoulder. “Nevertheless, your blood is far more noble than mine even if some are too blind to recognise it. I will do everything in my power to help you.”
“I am just a warrior protecting my homeland.” Pensword muttered as he stood up. “I shall fetch my Pitchfork. I think I will go with the next patrol.” He declared. “Thank you for your help. And your words. Even if something were to happen, I know it would be due to outside forces thou couldst not prevent.”
“Let us show them who they have trifled with,” Hurricane said with a salute.
“Thank you, Captain.” Pensword replied with a return salute. “Now, I shall need to get ready. While I am out, you are in command of the fort. Do not let her fall, or Lunar Fang shall be coming after you.” Pensword said, his tone hovering between serious and joking. “Take care, Hurricane.” he muttered.
“Be safe, my friend.” Hurricane responded.
Hammer Strike smiled as the last segment of wall locked in place. It was midday and he was pleasantly surprised to have finished so early. Giving a nod, he stepped back and gave the wall one last look over, making sure every piece connected properly with the others. He gave it a solid kick for good measure. The thick beams vibrated, carrying around the wall and back again, but at least they held.
Nodding in approval, Hammer Strike negligently stepped aside as a gryphon arrow embedded itself into the ground near his hoof. The long shaft carried a message tied with a red ribbon and sealed with wax in the shape a strange looking shield. It resembled a bird’s talon with a paw print imposed behind it.
Raising a brow in question he grabbed the message and broke the seal, opening it to reveal its contents.
‘To Lord Hammer Strike of Equestria,
It seems that with the battle going at its present pace it will be some time before we meet in combat. So I say why not speed things up a bit? I, the honorable general Steelclaw Talonfang, hereby issue you a personal challenge. Let the two of us meet tomorrow at noon on the field of battle. You may bring a maximum of five with you to witness your defeat, one acting as your second. No harm will come to you until our battle, and they will be allowed to retreat afterwards. If you accept this challenge then we shall see if ‘Celestia’s Ghost’ lives up to his name.
Until our blades meet in glorious combat,
General Steelclaw Talonfang of Gryphonia.’
Hammer Strike shrugged, putting the message in his coat pocket. “I think I could take a fifteen minute break at that time…” He said to himself as he walked towards the entrance of the city.
Lunar Fang galloped to the wall with a squad of soldiers. “Lord Hammer Strike! A wall guard said an arrow made its way over the barricade at this spot. Are you ok?” she asked.
“Yes, I am fine. The arrow just had a message on it challenging me to a duel to the death with their general.” He responded.
There was a moment of silence. “WHAT?” Many voices echoed simultaneously.
“Oh, you know, just a one on one duel. Nothing really intense.” He shrugged, pulling the message out.
“You do know gryphon generals have to fight for their rank, correct?” Lunar Fang asked. “They are among the most skilled of the warriors.”
Hammer Strike raised a brow. “At least it will be an entertaining duel then.” He shrugged. “He wanted me to bring others to watch my ‘downfall.’” He shook his head. “I shall just go alone most likely.”
“You are not walking up to a gryphon general alone.” Lunar Fang stomped a hoof in agitation.
“You want to come and watch then?” He asked.
“Want doesn’t seem to be the proper term.” she said. “If you must accept this duel, then I will act as your second.”
“Okay.” Hammer Strike shrugged. “Tomorrow at noon ‘on the field of battle.’”
“I don’t know if I find your attitude overconfident or psychotic.” Lunar Fang sighed. She turned to the guard. “Go warn the troops. It seems we will have a duel tomorrow.” she said.
“I tend to find little entertainment in these battles.” Hammer Strike responded.
“Maybe but it will do the troops good to see the legend in combat,” Lunar Fang said. Hammer Strike rolled his eyes jokingly in response before heading off to the forge.
Pensword’s left eye twitched as he heard the hoof steps of the next patrol fading into the distance. In the last hour he’d had two rival noble houses march into his outpost. And now, standing watch he could hear the two Unicorn stallions from Noble houses Sharp Blade and Jade Sphere arguing over who was to take command. Captain Hurricane was currently on another patrol chasing down a minor army of about five hundred Gryphons marching to their location. He held up a wing and was still ignored. Pensword huffed and turned around to walk away when his right ear twitched and he turned to walk towards a shouting match. He could hear Blue Vase clearly enough, but the other voice was new.
“I don’t care if your were the personal doctor for Princess Celestia. This is a military post and I am in charge of all medical operations here. I demand you wash your hooves before seeing to the patients. These orders come from Colonel Hurricane, himself.”
“Are you saying I am unclean like some common earth pony?” The other voice, female, growled back. Pensword turned the corner into the tent and saw a white Unicorn bearing a staff with red ribbons wrapped around it, a medical symbol of the time period. “I am a doctor, and I keep my hooves clean.” Pensword was amazed he snuck up on the new doctor without her hearing him.
“What is going on here?” He smirked as Blue Vase rolled her eyes while the other doctor jumped a good bit off the ground before landing and turning around. “Oh, it’s the assistant to Lord Hurricane’s son.” She snorted. “I think you two will be pleased to know that a leader is being decided and hopefully it is my own liege, Dark Jade.”
“I doubt it. Colonel Hurricane made specific orders that his son and I be left in command, and Captain Hurricane has chosen me to plan the assault on Fort Triumph.” His tone had an edge to it.
“Yes, yes.” the doctor muttered. “Still, that is because there were no full blooded lords or dukes in charge of troops. Now that we have noble blood of age again, they shall take command. I see no reason why you Pegasi still prefer military ranks over the ranks of nobility.”
Blue Vase beat Pensword to the punch. “Because,” She growled. “Nobility is given to you on a silver platter. To the Pegasi, our ranks and leaders were earned by hard work. To become a Colonel, you prove your worth to be promoted. Why do you think it has always been a Pegasus who was in charge of the military in times of war?”
“How …? Do you know who I am? I am Doctor Pure Heart: Personal Physician to House Jade Sphere.”
She was suddenly interrupted as Little Willow entered into the tent. “Blue Vase? I found that wild ivy that you were needing.” she shouted as she headed to one of the patient’s beds. Stopping to wash her hooves in the basin, she turned to the pony. I really don’t see what you meant, though the infection does appear to be withdrawing.” she said as she started unwrapping the bandaged leg of the pony in front of her.
Pensword smirked a little. He knew that the magic to see the microscopic was still generations away so he could not just blow up a blood sample. “Actually, it was my own command.”
“Superstitions.” The doctor roared, waving her hooves in exasperation. “You are letting a Pegasus taught by Thestrals lead your medical field?” She shook her head. “Unbelievable.”
“Actually, it was,” He trailed off as he got a glare from the doctor before he swallowed and returned the glare. This was not his cardiologist. He was in charge this time. This time he was not going to listen to this Doctor because she was wrong. For the first time in his life, he had to do something he never dreamed of doing: disregard a Doctor’s advice. Fortunately, his life as a member of the thestral clans had improved his glare significantly. Breaking through her offense, his glare prevented any more words from Pure Heart. “Finished? Good. Now listen. I do not know why, but I feel that washing hooves and paws, and boiling water for the instruments between procedures may help prevent spread of infection and sickness. We are short enough on siege troops as it is. So we will do things my way. Stay healthy. And if I learn you break my orders, You shall find yourself back in Unity helping some orphanage for the rest of the war.”
The tent flap opened as Grif walked in. “Pensword?” he looked around, spotting the pony in question. “I understand you’ve been having trouble with some of the ‘help’ that’s come in. I just talked to the nobles and they are much more willing to listen to reason now. After all, I speak for Lord Hammer Strike’s authority on this matter. And house strike has chosen to back you for this attack.” Grif shot a look at Pure Heart. “Was there any other coup de tate’s going on that needed to be handled?”
“More like a slight against the medical profession. We are not farmers, nor do we forge weaponry. Why do we need to wash our hooves and wear masks when we are to see our patients? Also, boiling instruments? That is time wasted that could be used helping others.”
“I see…” Grif said “Tell me, doctor….” he trailed off expectantly.
“Pure Heart.” She growled back. “What Lord Hammer Strike sees in a Gryphon being let about in medical tents is beyond me. The field or elsewhere, but not in my domain. Look at the fur, the feathers… when did you last have a decent brushing? Dust and dirt in your fur…” She shook her head. “Did you dig a pit or something?”
“Several trenches, actually.” Grif laughed “Had to bury a lot of bodies. Can’t leave them to rot. Spreads plague, you know. Tell me, doctor. If a pony is run through but the sword blade avoids anything vital, what are their chances of living with you as their surgeon?”
“Frankly, a wound like that is fatal no matter the surgeon. Best option is to keep them comfortable, and maybe give them an Opium plant to dull the pain.”
“Really. You don’t say. We currently have several such ponies back on active duty at the moment. Many of them have survived for well over two weeks. Field medic Blue Vase and Little Willow have performed the operation themselves hoof fulls of times and very few have died from it. What about, may I ask, a severed limb?”
“Maybe move about with a wheelchair, but also maimed for life if they survive the removing of the limb. Another horrible fate, but one that is somewhat survivable.” She replied with a slightly raised eyebrow at what she was told concerning these survivors.
“Somewhat survivable?” Grif raised an eyebrow in turn. “One would think if treated effectively it would be survivable on most occasions. I’m sorry doctor pure heart but i do not see how you qualify for head surgeon in this outpost if you cannot assure your patient’s every chance of survival.” grif said. “You are asking me to trade practices which have served this outpost effectively for practices that would hinder us. I do not believe my lord would ever support your assertion, and as such, my lord will continue to back major Pensword’s chosen practices in this matter. Should I hear you have been disobedient to his wishes, you will be sent to the stocks.” Grif allowed himself a malevolent gin. “I’m sure your lord’s cousin, clouded jade, would enjoy the company.”
“What did that insufferable idiot do this time?” She muttered before snorting a little. “He was always warned to behave or Celestia or Luna might reprimand him.” She giggled next. “Might have to see that sight. Serves him right for ruining my pink apron.”
“He struck an earth pony for ignoring him because he was busy fletching arrows,” Grif said. “Oh yes, my lord is very picky about equal treatment within the army and fully supports Pensword’s policy’s on such things. I hope you do not have trouble with that, pure heart.” Grif shot her a glare. “I will, in my patience, let your comment to me from earlier slide. As a sign of good will.”
Her expression froze before turning to one of outrage. “You, that is, that is just a simple Earth Pony who was not showing the proper respect of the nobles.” She opened her mouth when Pensword stepped forward and puffed his chest and ruffled his feathers making for a most intimidating appearance.
“He saved your noble cousin’s life. We are in an active war zone. Any show of deference of that kind could mean his end.” He paused and held the stare as he voiced another question. “What is Hammer Strike?”
“A noble.” She responded. “A particular favorite of Princess Celestia and Princess Luna.”
“Right. So, what tribe is Lord Hammer Strike from?” he asked as he moved to his left, her right.
“Earth pony.” She replied matter of factly.
“Do you see him dropping what he does when another noble visits?” he asked with a slight Mmm at the end of the question.
“...No.” She said, hesitating slightly.
“Well, seeing as Lord Hammer Strike is the head Noble and is delegating the menial tasks to those under him, I would suggest we follow his orders or he might put us all in the stocks.” He knew he would never do it, but it never hurt to use the culture to bring about a better result. “Or shall you wish to bring this up to him in the form of a letter?”
“No… Of course not. I will have my ponies briefed on the new procedures as soon as possible.” she said sweating a bit as she looked around uncomfortably.
“Very well,” Pensword replied, looking a little more cheerful. “Just be sure to go through training with your staff. All shall go through training. Even I went through training.” He paused and looked Pure Heart eye to eye. “Am I understood?”
Grif smiled as the mare nodded vigorously. “Well, I have been up all night so i will be heading to my tent now. You know me, pensword. Lack of sleep can make me ridiculously short tempered.” He smiled as he left, shifting a conspiratory glance around the room. “Wouldn’t want to snap and accidentally string someone up by their own spinal column for annoying me,” he said as he left.
Pensword glared at Grif. “You are dismissed for rest. But if you do that, I shall Pluck out your feathers one by one and force feed them to you.” He replied with a stern look. “Maybe the crown feathers as well.” he turned and left the opposite way that Grif had left, leaving only Blue Vase, Little Willow, and Pure Heart in the tent.
“Well, we should get back to that infection,” Blue Vase said washing her hooves and moving to where willow stood with the patient. Pure heart quietly made her exit, suddenly a lot less confident than she was before.
Across from Fillydelphia the gryphon camp stood, a cold, stark wave of canvas and black tipped feathers. Tents and banners stood proudly, guarded by constant changes of the guard. The horrible smell of burnt pony flesh wafted from it constantly. At precisely eleven thirty horns began to sound from the camp as a small band made their way into no man’s land. At the head marched General Steelclaw, arrayed in his shining, ornate armor, carefully polished and prepared for this fight. At his side a large round shield was strapped to his foreleg with the embellishment of a taloned foot imposed over a lion's paw. On his back a long wicked looking halberd with a serrated blade waited to be drawn. Behind him marched several less adorned gryphons each wearing iron armor that was nicked and scratched from combat. The gryphons marched along until they stood at half distance between the camp and Fillydelphia.
On the other side, two ponies walked toward the middle ground. Hammer Strike wore no armor save a set of shoulder pauldrons over his blue and gold overcoat that he wore at all times. His typical flat expression showing on his face. At his side Lunar Fang decked out in her full armor that Hammer Strike had crafted for her. She looked to her side and spoke under her breath. “I sure hope you have something planned.” She looked back at the Gryphons. “Please tell me you heard the story where a fighter wore a metal plate under his tunic?” She looked to the others. “I know you. You like having armor and protection. This is not like you.”
“You also know I like surprises…” Hammer Strike commented with a smirk. Reaching over quickly he tapped his foreleg. The sound of jingling metal answered. Lunar Fang only returned the smirk.
As the two met, the general and a smaller gryphon approached Hammer Strike and Lunar Fang. “And so you come. As I knew you would.” the gryphon smiled. “Welcome to your end, Hammer Strike.”
“I had some free time.” Hammer Strike shrugged.
“As promised, when I defeat you, your second will be allowed to return to tell of my victory.” The gryphon said.
“I believe your idea of defeat and my own are quite different.” Hammer Strike said. “So, what now?”
“I will have my entourage back away twenty paces and you will do the same. Then we will put this to rest, agreed?” The gryphon asked.
“Okay, then.” Hammer Strike said simply.
The gryphon looked back and nodded to his second who returned to the other gryphons, all of whom moved back the appointed distance. Hammer Strike, on that note, turned and told Lunar Fang. “Find a good vantage point.”
“Are you sure you want to do this?” She asked as she looked at the Gryphons, showing she was going to move. “Just ... are you sure?” Her tone showed worry for her friend.
“Aww, that is adorable. You think he is a threat.” Hammer gave a dark smile. “Sit back there and enjoy the show. But be warned, the first three rows are a splash zone.”
Lunar Fang blinked. That was all she did before she moved back, standing a good distance away but still close enough to observe the battle. She looked to the Gryphons who were to watch and observe this battle, before turning back to the two combatants.
The gryphon general drew the halberd from his back and held it in a single talon towards Hammer Strike.
On that note Hammer Strike drew his famous great sword from his back which was, of course, too big for most ponies, yet he wielded it perfectly fine. He had no flare to his stance and seemed both bored and slightly annoyed.
For a long moment there was a silence between the two, words hung unspoken in the air as each eyed their opponent. One with a predatory gaze, trying to find any signs of a sudden attack, the other with a bored expression, urging his opponent to just get on with it already. Finally, the gryphon charged ahead, bringing his halberd down for a vertical sweep at Hammer Strike. The earth pony barely acknowledged the force as he raised his blade to block. The gryphon took advantage of this to push ahead with his shield, momentarily knocking the earth pony back.
Hammer Strike returned with a with a diagonal thrust which the gryphon dodged by moving back under the power of his wings. Spinning the halberds he thrust forward himself with his longer weapon surpassing even the reach of Hammer Strikes sword. As Hammer Strike dodged, the blade bit slightly into his shoulder where the pauldrons lifted up but the earth pony seemed not to notice the injury or care as he grabbed the shaft of the halberd and brought his sword down on the gryphons back. The armor held preventing any serious injuries but the pain came like a typhoon to the gryphon as his wings and back muscles screamed.
Grimacing, the gryphon knocked Hammer Strike away with his shield again. The earth pony only just backed off from the sweep of the halberd, the flat of the blade smacking against his lower leg. Though if this seriously hurt, Hammer Strike he didn't seem to give any signs. The gryphon charged again with his shield but this time Hammer Strike moved to the side before slicing behind the shield, destroying the leather straps keeping it attached to the gryphon’s leg. the shield rolled away and the gryphon growled.
Lunar Fang blinked and widened her eyes a little. Did she just …? Yes, she did see Hammer Strike’s facial expression change. Her next thought in her head was that this was going to end quickly. Hammer Strike losing his bored expression during the last few months taught her one thing. When the bored expression left things would happen fast.
Without the shield the gryphon was able to place both clawed hands onf the shaft of the halberd. His strikes became more rapid and powerful as he charged ahead. Hammer Strike blocked and parried repeatedly. To the outside eye it would seem as if he was losing ground fast. Finally the sword blade caught against the halberd’s head and the two weapons locked as both combatants put their weight behind their weapons. The gryphon lashed out with his claw tearing a large cut on the back of Hammer Strike’s coat. However, this exposed the metal plates beneath and the gryphon’s claws found no purchase against them.
The deadlock was broken when the metal of the halberd head ground before finally giving up its fight as Hammer Strike’s blade cleaved the head off the shaft. The gryphon managed to parry fast enough to avoid getting hit himself, but now he was facing Hammer Strike with nothing more than a sharpened stick. To his credit the general merely growled and charged forward in an attempt to spear the pony through. Hammer Strike spun to the side his blade forming a wide 360 degree arc as it swung. Hammer Strike never even felt the resistance against the blade and was therefore unaware of his damage until he heard the gurgling. Looking behind him, he saw the gryphon clutching his throat as blood poured from his beak. The entourage looked on in surprise and horror.
A dark smile came to Hammer Strike as he fully turned on his foe. Walking towards him, he cracked his neck and gave his blade one last look before fully turning his dark grin on the griffon. “Do not worry… I shall make this quick.” The sword gleamed in the mid-day sun before he let it fall. The gryphon’s head bounced along the road, the small trench formed by the blow in the earth filling with a tiny rivulet of blood.
The gryphon’s body slumped to the ground. From Fillydelphia’s walls a horn rang out, echoing, followed by a loud cheer.
Raising his brow Hammer Strike reached into his overcoat and pulled out a pocket watch. Opening it he took note of the time.
“Huh… Ten minutes.” He frowned. “I guess I have five minutes to spare.”
The gryphons looked at Hammer Strike in fear. The general’s second approached defensively. “You have slain the general. What will be done with his remains?” he asked.
“Eh, do what you want. I honestly do not care what is done.”
The gryphon nodded as the others quickly took the body while he grabbed the head and they left.
“That ...” Lunar Fang slowly spoke as she walked up to him. “You defeated their toughest warrior. You defeated the General.” She smirked a little as they heard the sound of horns and metal beating metal. “You also just opened up a big rank for others to fight for. Hammer Strike, you just gave us time to rest while they fight, as well as deal with the piecemeal attacks. We should head back to the wall before we overstay our welcome on the field of battle though.” She moved to pick up the Halberd, as tradition dictated from Grif’s lecture. The winner took the shield, the second would take the weapon to carry back to the victorious camp, which was, at the moment, a Pony camp. The Gryphons would learn, she thought to herself, that the ponies were not the weaklings they thought they were.
Hammer Strike looked over to the shield before shrugging and grabbing it. “Well, now what?”
“I believe the troops will want to congratulate you in person, my lord.” Lunar Fang said. “You may have to extend your break.”
“Let us get it over with then.” Hammer Strike said, starting in the direction of Fillydelphia. “I need to find a tailor.”
Pensword looked from his hoof-made bush guise as he watched the storm clouds beginning to rumble over the horizon. This storm front was, or would be recorded, as the biggest Pegasus storm ever built . He shivered a little from the cold winds. Blinking back the tears from his watering eyes, he gazed on the fortress. It had been built into the side of the mountain wall, nestled in the edge of a valley. The west wall was steep, carved out by some geological event in the past. The East wall rose gently, giving the Fortress an easy view all around. Also due to its natural location, it was nigh impossible to besiege. There were rumors of a natural spring under the fortress, and food to be grown within the outer walls.
Pensword looked to the map that Grif had drawn. There were three walls. The outer wall produced and kept food stock for the Gryphons. The secondary wall area protected the living and mustering grounds. While the inner wall protected an area that even he did not get access to, however Pensword knew what it was due to reading his own history. The inner wall was to protect the thrones of the kings and Emperor of the Gryphons. This Fortress was built to be either a retreat for the Gryphon Royals, or a headquarters for any personal campaigning they might want to do. His ears twitched as the thunder pealed overhead. They had surrounded the fortress under cover of darkness. And after the last three days of constant raids and attacks, the Gryphons had informally withdrawn from the surrounding area into the main fortress. Captain Hurricane was finishing up a two pronged raid on the last outposts and would arrive in the next two weeks. Four weeks from today they would begin the assault. That should give enough time for the Dream Stalkers to have their way.
Pensword looked at the Thestrals around him. “Begin the Nightmares.” He turned to another Thestral, small and stealthy, perfect for his next order. “Launch the Ballistas. I want lightning attracted to this fortress as soon as possible. With a loud twang the fired from the forest and embedded into the walls. Soon after, a clever mechanical device released, allowing the metal bars attached to the bolt to extend. The Gryphons that were patrolling the walls did not move to investigate this as the sudden sound of shrieks came rising from the sleeping quarters. They rushed off the parapets to investigate. The cries filled the air, echoing around through the compound as they bounced from wall to wall. The natural wall of the cliff face acted as an acoustic amplifier. Pensword smiled with glee. He looked to the ghosts next to him. “Captain of Mountainside Militia, your revenge has begun. I allow your men to hunt the dreams of your killers.” He looked to the walls as he saw the shadows fade away. Then he blinked as he felt something on his back.
He looked to his right and smiled. “Mom, shall I be released from this path once we take Triumph?” He asked, his voice showing weariness. “I,” he trailed off, before beginning again. “I want this to be over when Triumph falls.”
“Then shall it be. Once you take Triumph, only we, your family, shall visit for things other than revenge. I ... I am sorry I never could tell you what I knew.”
“I know,” Pensword’s voice broke. “It is one thing to know and have it happen. it is another to have it happen to yourself and know it to be a defining moment that will shape an entire life.” He blinked and felt his mother hug him. “I miss you, mom. And I just hope I do not join you on the other side too soon.”
She smirked. “Really now? You know you live for a while yet. You know you live long enough to give me a Grand Foal.” She smiled at the blush that filled his cheeks. “I am your mother. I can say that. I also can say that you will make all of us proud.”
“Yes, but… what if I was there? I could. If I knew already I could have saved some lives, could I not?” He looked to the walls again. “I have already had men die under my command. I sent lives to join you,” His voice cut off as his mother clicked her tongue.
“Don’t blame yourself.” She saw him wince. “You don’t like contractions?” Her voice was playful. She was trying to cheer him up. “Each one of you swore to give your lives if needed to protect Equestria. Do not think of the lives. Think on the war and preventing the Gryphons from having any more high level leaders.” She released him and moved to stand in front of her son. “Do not kill all the Gryphons. You shall need one to empty the city at the other end of the valley. Or do you wish to kill civilians as well?”
Pensword’s expression darkened. “I shall not stoop to their level. Thank you for the tip mom, I shall keep that in mind. My orders shall be carried out.” He was very happy that only Thestrals were with him at the moment. He knew that some of the reports were calling him the Broken leader. He frowned as he looked to the walls. He even used that in one of his reports to Luna. He did not move as the night drew longer and colder and the rain started to fall, a rain that would not let up for at least another week… the cloud cover would not cease till a month later. The tears of loss, as he called this front, were starting to fall.
“War.” Lunar Fang sighed, looking out at the gryphon army. “War never changes.” Two days had past in which the gryphon officers had fought battles and dueled to see who would be promoted to which open post when it became open by the last one being promoted. Looking over their numbers Lunar Fang could already notice a significant cut in their forces from the last time they had seen it. The Thestral looked behind her to observe the wall around Fillydelphia.
The logs stood upright and connected in segments of four, all bonded together by steel braces around the upper half and lower half of the segments. From what she could remember from Hammer Strike’s description, each segment was made to connect to each other to ensure that it would remain upright. Near the top of the wall the logs were sharpened, giving a point to each one and on the other side, inside the walls, there were platforms set up to have ponies keep watch and make sure there were no griffons in sight.
She looked at the ponies and thestrals surrounding her, the walls of Fillydelphia were currently being guarded by civilian volunteers who had been roughly trained on what to do should there be a breach. Every trained warrior and soldier she had with her was currently next to her. Her thestral kin looked on at the gryphons, a desire burning in their eyes to bite into the enemy. Unicorns stood at the back of the army, spells prepared for lobbing and guarding. Earth ponies and pegasi brandished their weapons somewhere between nervous and determined.
The events that were sure to come wore heavily on Lunar Fang’s shoulders. It was likely many of these ponies would not see another sunset. She took a deep breath. “Is all prepared?” She asked. “Is everypony present and ready?”
“It seems like it.” She heard Hammer Strike respond as he walked up to her.
Everypony perked up instantly at the sound of the legendary noble’s voice. Murmuring and whispers swept through the army. Hammer Strike, or as the general had called him, ‘Celestia’s Ghost,’ was going to fight with them. How could they lose? Lunar fang shook her head at the whispers.
“Is that him?”
“Of course it is.”
“Celestia’s Ghost. Did you see him on the battlefield?”
“I did. He took out that Gryphon like it was nothing.”
How that name had spread so quickly, she would never know. But at least it seemed to boost the troops’ morale. And at the moment, that was all that mattered.
“Welcome, Lord Hammer Strike.” She said “We did not expect you on the battlefield today.”
“I had some free time. Figured I could spend it doing something productive.” He replied.
“Have anything to say to the troops before the charge?”
“Be sure to put our equipment to good use.” He gave a small smile.
Lunar Fang turned to the gryphons as she drew her sword. “I don’t ask you to fight for Equestria, for the sun or the moon. Fight for the families of Fillydelphia! Charge!” she pointed her sword as they roared across the battlefield, one united body bound by a common love of life.
Pensword looked to the clouds as the rainfall slowly tapered off. The clouds remained, dark and ominous. He looked to the walls, then to Grif, who was busy cleaning one of his weapons. “How many got through?”
“One.” Grif muttered darkly. “I do not know why you wanted to let one of them through.” His tone of voice clearly showed how miffed he was at the order. “I wouldn’t have trusted any of them,” he said testing his sword on a hair. It split evenly against the blade.
“Because,” Pensword smirked, “I want the Gryphons to know that their precious Fortress is under siege. That by the time that their troops come, we shall have won. The siege is already a week in. The troops are showing signs of fear, paranoia, and sleep deprivation. We are building ladders and digging tunnels to sap at the walls.” He looked to Grif. “Plus, a nightmare rattled Gryphon coming from a besieged fortress ... I want to see how many armies will actually listen … and how many will even make it past the forest. We have other smaller noble armies marching through the Equestrian countryside looking for raiders or solo fighters. I doubt the runners will live very long in a nation that is out for Gryphon.” He looked around before looking to the wall, happy they were alone. “This is a little better than Earth. Here you know the shape of your enemy. That makes it both a little easier and a little harder.”
He paused as Grif moved to the shadows. He soon knew the reason why as one of the Nobles came trotting up to his side. They had slowly been bringing troops in to populate the forest and construct more Ballistae. They now numbered around seven, each firing metal rods into the walls and towers. Lightning was always cracking and the Gryphons would now avoid the outer wall as much as possible. In fact, he saw one Gryphon try to march along the wall only to trip and fall over. His clumsy attempts to stop from falling and tumble over the wall were useless, his wet wings unable to provide the necessary lift. Because of a large hill, no pony saw the Gryphon hit the ground. Pensword knew he could take the first wall at any moment. But he knew that the Gryphons were still a problem in this state. He would have to wait for them to become so paranoid that they would attack each other, or barricade themselves into areas of the fortress. For now, he would wait and see.
Pensword blinked as the Noble cleared his throat and he suddenly realized he had done so more than once. The noble had a clearly annoyed expression. “Yes? What is it?”
“When are we assaulting? We can take the fortress now.” The Noble was keeping his voice low, as ordered from his arrival.
“No, not yet.” Pensword replied. “The Gryphons will allow the water to dry and then they could fly and attack from the air. Let them continue fo now. We will let mildew and other water based life grow on their feathers. They are tired and soon they will start to miss a few things. Besides, I must await Captain Hurricane’s forces. They are still a few days away and then we need to finish the ladders to confuse the Gryphons. Not to mention we need to finish the new troops’ training and some of the caves that shall be caved in to destroy the outer wall. Also, when we attack it will be from the clouds as well. We also need to finish construction of our attack ram.” He looked to the Noble. “Morale right now would tip in their favor. We look like we can win, but if we attack now, it shall improve their morale and we risk becoming routed and retreating with casualties we cannot fully afford at the moment. Your cousins have already whittled two small armies out of my forces. I am down by two hundred Ponies. I need all the ponies I can. Even with Hurricane I shall only have at most two thousand fighters compared to easily five thousand Gryphons in that fortress. The nightmares and the rain are giving us what we need to win. Otherwise it would be a stalemate.” He closed his eyes. “Also, was it not your troops that let the gryphon runners through in the first place?”
“Cowards.” The Noble replied. “I sent them back to their homes.” The noble spat. “Surely these runners shall be killed by the Gryphons for their fleeing of battle and abandoning their posts. I thought it would be ironic if it was by their own people that they find death.”
“They were runners with messages. What you just let through our lines could very well lead to our downfall. The enemy armies shall come now. And when they do come, pray to faust we are inside those walls.” He did not care that Grif was the backup. He had used that moment to gain a little more control and authority of the military ranks. Any small increase to his side and not in the side this puffed up noble or that arrogant noble left at Fort Lunar Fang was a good event. Time, hopefully, would work for him. He prayed it would work. “I have an order. No Gryphons alive save for Grif. He has promised to stuff my pillow with feathers fom every Gryphon who killed at my home.” He paused a moment. “We will also allow one Gryphon who is to evacuate the civilian towns at the other end of the valley before we attack. Or do you want to shed more blood?”
The noble from house Jade shook his head. “Nay, I shall not. I am no Pegasus, nor do I have their blood as thou and thy winged brethren have. I shall… follow the orders better.”
“See to it. Or you shall be on picket duty taking my own spot.” He smirked, knowing that his post was one of the more dangerous ones. The noble shook his head, trembling. “Fine. Still, you are to go out and maintain the cordon. Take some of my ‘blood lust brethren,’ as you called us, with you, and not your Unicorn cohorts.”
The noble slipped away looking a little nervous, but did as he was told, pointing to a group of resting Thestrals who nodded and followed the Noble. Pensword looked back to the wall and just watched.
He managed a small smile. He had stamped out bat bird and some of the other derogatory terms for Thestrals in the camp. Although he did not mind being called blood lusted brethren as that was a Unicorn phrase for Pegasi as well. So if it was use for Thestrals too, he was fine ... for the moment at least. “One step at a time.” he muttered.
Pensword paused and looked to his right, this time with a better smile. One of the Thestrals from the Gryphon Slayers was walking through the forest. He shook his head and the caked mud flaked from his mane and tail, revealing his namesake. “Midnight Prism: What is your report?”
“Well, Commander.” he smirked at Pensword’s grimace. “What? You speak to Commander Hurricane as an equal.” Midnight Prism chuckled. “Come, Moon Kicker is going to take your sentry post. And I am to teach you more on your Thestral gifts.”
Pensword nodded his head and waited while Moon Kicker, a full blooded Thestral, appeared at his side before he moved out of the small depression he had carved for himself. Pensword stretched his legs and moved slowly to the back of the siege camp in the forest, accompanied by Midnight Prism. Here lay a segment completely controlled by Thestrals. Here, the Dream Hunters lived. And here, Pensword would be taught by one of the others who had the Sight Beyond on how to both control and utilize his gift.
The fields of Fillydelphia glowed red once more as the carnage renewed. The Gryphons had charged the lines, trying their hardest to blot the sky with their bodies to intimidate the defenders of the city. There was only problem. They were shaking as Celestia’s Ghost take the field, wielding what looked like a giant size smithing hammer combined with the meat tenderizers that many of the Gryphon leaders had used on pony flesh.
The battle cries and clashing of steel drowned out the other sounds around Hammer Strike’s senses as he struck yet another enemy down. Around him a small group of archers stood, acting as his body guards. He had fought through the lines, and yet in the ever-changing organic flow of a battle field, he found himself on the right flank as a group of five Gryphons flew fast over head. One of them let out a shriek as he reeled into a nearby pine tree, his wing and bones snapping on impact as he crashed to the ground. A single arrow protruded from his neck, leaving only four to continue to the Gryphon camp.
“Good shot.” Hammer Strike complimented
The archers were quick in their assessment. The dead Gryphon was a messenger. Searching his body, they found a satchel filled with a hard wooden case unopened and sealed by a crest that Hammer Strike did not even bother to look at as he cracked it open, up ended the case, and let a roll of parchment fall out, landing in his hooves. He broke the seal on the parchment and unfurled it to read:
‘Fort triumph is under attack. Reinforcements denied. Regroup to Fort Triumph. was all he could make out in the message. There appeared to be a lot more information, but it was either encrypted or there was not enough time to read and decipher it.
Hammer Strike smirked. It would appear that Pensword had begun his attack on Fort Triumph. He could not understand Gyphic well, but Grif had been able to teach him enough to get the basics. The Gryphons needed help. He wasn’t about to let them have it.
Looking up, he focused on the battle around him, trying to find Lunar Fang.
To his mild amusement, Lunar Fang found him as a gryphon moving behind Hammer Strike was ran through and pinned to the ground.
“Not like you to leave your back open.” She noted.
“Order your troops to let none escape.” He said. “They are trying to retreat to Fort Triumph.”
Lunar Fang needed no further explanation. Turning back, she cried over the combat. “LET NONE ESCAPE!” Moments later a horn sounded signaling the orders to the rest of the ponies.
The Gryphons were already on the move, trying to disengage from the enemy and beat a hasty retreat to their defensive lines. However, the bulk of the Gryphon forces were still on the field. As they began to move back to their side some of the more inexperienced leaders, who had literally killed to be in their spots, were suddenly surrounded by fleeing Gryphons. somewhere along the line the orderly withdrawal had turned into a full scale retreat. Thanks to the general uproar, it was much easier for the Equestrian forces to pick off those at the back. Then came the first instance of a Gryphon cutting another Gryphon off. This immediately resulted in a duel of honor which soon spread into a small skirmish between rival units. It was utter chaos as the Equestrian forces approached. Gryphon smote upon Gryphon in a free for all melee attack for the right to flee first.
“Well, that makes our job easier…” Hammer Strike muttered to himself.
Pensword sat back in his tent as his ears took in the sounds around him. A moment later they twitched and he looked up, smiling with joy as his brother in arms came into the tent. “Captain, report.” his voice clearly showed relief at seeing Captain Hurricane alive and well.
“The assaults were a complete success. we have a line of empty and cursed lands for the Gryphons to find. We buried the Gryphons but left the wings nailed to the walls as ordered. The Outposts shall not be reoccupied.”
Pensword nodded his head. “Leaving them with only one option for retreat. We’ll funnel them right into the corridor we set up. And we’ll be ready for them. Nets, pits, poisoned honey, those Gryphons will not make it through alive. Whatever troops do happen to make it to this area shall be exhausted, angry, and then be set upon by the nightmares of my Dream Stalkers. This place shall become their final battle ground.” He looked to his friend. “You wish to say something.”
“I have heard you are wishing to keep a Gryphon alive to save civilians. I support the action. I do not want to order the killing of an innocent town.” He looked to his friend. “What about you?”
“I am concerned with beating the Gryphon Military. Civilians are not a target. If any of the Military does hide in the Civilian ranks, Grif shall be the one to root them out. Also, Once this valley is secured, I am sending you off to lead forces into Gryphon territories. I plan on staying here and securing the valley for Equestria.”
Captain Hurricane looked shocked. “Surely you wish to march into Gryphon territory yourself; to bring the battle to them.”
“Captain, this valley is one of the major paths between the border. I do not trust any others but myself to hold this valley. I only want to take this fortress. That is all I want to do, because it shall be my revenge upon the Gryphons. After that, I shall secure and fortify this region against any attacks from the enemy. I have no intention of giving in to bloodlust as they did.” He looked to his friend. “Dismissed. Proper debriefing in two hours. Get some chow.”
He waited till his friend had left before looking down at the map he had been sketching. He was not preparing for Gryphon attacks alone. This place would be made into a sanctuary for the Thestrals during Nightmare Moon’s banishment. He jerked his head up as he heard something approaching his tent.
A gryphon, or rather, what had once been a Gryphon, flew into the tent and landed in a heap of wings, feather, and claws near Pensword. He could see it had been beaten rather badly. Moments later, Grif walked into the tent, scratched with blood running down his arm, but otherwise with no major wounds as he sheathed a bloody stiletto. “Looks like you had a visitor, pensword” he said.
Pensword got up and walked over to the Gryphon before letting out a startled gasp. “This one is still alive.” He stepped around the Gryphon. “Do you want him to answer or shall you answer, my Ghost of Revenge?” He loved having Dream Stalkers as they were saying that one of the Ponies must have caught and bound one of their ghosts to do his bidding.
The gryphon seemed unable to answer. He had obviously been unprepared for what he had found in the camp because he was only in studded leather armor and armed with a short sword and a bow.
“I recognize his face now that I see it properly. He’s trying to make a name for himself.” Grif spat.
“Oh? Tell me more.” Pensword asked with a smile. “Also, add his feathers to the pillow.” He added with a nod to the wings. “Anything I should know?”
“He’s a runaway. He joined this war for glory out of stupidity.” Grif said. “I doubt he even finished his training before he headed for the army. But don’t start getting all merciful on him. He’s as filthy as the rest.” Grif said as he moved forward. The gryphon cringed in fear, but the older gryphon cared little as he drew a blade. With a few well aimed slashes, feathers littered the floor.
Pensword looked at the Runaway. “Did you take the oath?” He asked, his voice void of emotion. “Did you raise your talon against my nation and against my people? Answer this with truth. I know when one is lying.”
The gryphon nodded slowly and stiffly. What little bravado or bravery he had had been beaten out by Grif already.
“Then you have to learn the final lesson of a good soldier, coward.” He moved to the tent door the two had entered from. “Grif, you have his confession. Make sure his insignia and identification is with his wings for the next Ballistia attack. It is time to curse the walls of Fort Triumph, starting with one who only saw the romance of war.” He paused and looked down at the ground. “May the next life be more merciful than you have found in this one.” WIth those words Pensword left, knowing Grif would do as commanded. He looked to the walls and shuddered, reflecting on when he was let off his leash to hunt for the rest of those on the lists that invaded his home. It would be over soon.
“Walk the earth with the dust,” Grif said before running the gryphon through. “And know you disgraced your ancestors.” Grif watched grimly as the life left the poor creature's eyes and the body slumped. The gryphon was grim faced as he went to his work.
Luna’s magic grabbed the chest peice of the armor Hammer Strike had made for her. Placing it on her chest, she began to tighten the straps, tying the cords tight. Luna always made a habit of adorning her armor by herself rather than with help, as some would consider the tradition for nobles. Outside Neighagra Falls waited, along with the Gryphon army.
The events of the past month were still hitting Luna gradually. She still could not believe she was currently the sole leader of a whole tribe of ponies. More So, she was leading them in battle alongside other ponies for the first time in recorded history. Luna double checked her greaves carefully for the fit to make sure they would not hinder her in battle. The next few months would be full of bloody, horrible war. And Luna couldn’t shake her excitement. Some may call it sick that the lunar princess found herself most at home in the heat of a good battle. She was practically shaking as she adorned her fur cloak and attached her pauldrons. This was where she was most at home. And now she had ponies to be at home with her. Why was the battle to come so appealing to her and yet so terrible?
Strapping her hammer to her back and taking her helmet in her grasp, she made her way from the tent with all the formality she could muster.
As she walked out the Chiefs of the Tribes looked to Luna in shock. This was the first time she had worn the armor from her smith. They were amazed that she knew one that could shape the bones into something so magnificent. They continued to gape as Piercing Roar stepped forward. “Your orders? The Enemy holds the other side and we hold this side. The air shall become filled with blood if we attack head on. How do you suggest we take the banks and claim this river for thine own?”
“Well, what wouldst thou do?” Luna asked. “Please, do grant us thy wise counsel so we may take it into consideration.” luna gestured to all the chiefs.
Piercing Roar bowed a little. “We feel that half of us may march further upriver and cross, then come down the other side. Also, we suggest a duel of honor between thee and the enemy General. We have been reading on Gryphon traditions and to take out their leadership shall bring chaos to the camps. Let them fight. And while they fight amongst themselves we can wedge them away from the river to allow the entire army to fly across and attack them like Locus upon the crops of the land.”
“Alas, I do not think any sane general would accept our challenge.” Luna answered. “They know well the strength of an alicorn and we have made ourselves a name with them before.”
Piercing Roar nodded her head. “Very well. How well or how much do they fear thee? What if we teach thee a means to change thine appearance? Or shape the shadows? What we use as teaching thou couldst use to strike fear into the hearts of the enemy.”
“Truly? Thy people wield such magic?” Luna asked, shocked. “I have never heard of such magic even amongst the libraries of Starswirl and he has created over two hundred score spells.”
“He has never visited with us. Or if he has, he thought it just sleight of hoof.” Piercing Roar chuckled, “I shall have our Dream Stalkers start thy training this evening.” She turned her head and whistled sharply. Three Thestral Stallions and two Mares walked forward and bowed as they began to guide Luna to a small tent complex.
Luna followed them without question. They arrived and Luna found the five Thestrals gathering around her in a circle. They motioned for her to sit down and they sat around her. Raising their wings to the air, they slowly bowed their heads as a strange mist slowly moved around in front of her within the circle. “Please, reach out and touch the magic with either a hoof or a horn and let us teach thee.”
Luna gingerly stuck a hoof out toward the magic. Surprisingly, it felt … right somehow, comforting even. Luna found her world beginning to shudder and shift around her as a new type of magic made it’s presence known in her body. The floor swam to meet her as the sensations overwhelmed her consciousness.
Pensword looked to his Dream Stalkers and Grif. “You have been looking through the minds of the Gryphons. You know the enemy. Who shall be spared for the order of evacuating the enemy town?” He looked to the Fortress. “The Commandant is not on the list. He is to die at my hoof.” He paused and looked to Grif. “It seems I have brought Hell to their Doorstep?” He asked with some hidden meaning.
“Maybe. But I don’t intend to stop till the lot of them are locked away in tartarus itself.” Grif said. “Spare a child or a female. They haven’t valued the strength of females yet.” He looked at one of the female dream stalkers. “And I consider that a mistake.”
Pensword looked to the female Dream Stalker. “Do you have any in the Fortress that fits the criteria?” He looked to Grif and then to the Dream Stalkers. “I want to have this Gryphon marked before we attack.”
“The commander’s daughter would make a good candidate, if I had to give you a choice.” Grif answered begrudgingly.
“Oh… nice. Irony and payback all molded in one. I like it.” Pensword mumbled happily. “Knowing her, she hopefully will lead the civilians away.” He looked to Grif. “Otherwise, when she returns you may have and do whatever it is you wish with her.” He looked his friend right into the air. “Is that acceptable to you?”
“Very well.” Grif said. “She has partaken in pony flesh and as such if she returns without fulfilling her duty, her life is mine.” He warned him.
“Very true.” Pensword looked to the Dream Stalkers. “Are there children in the fortress?” He did not like having to ask the question. “If so, is there a way to spare their lives?”
“Children are innocent.” Grif said. “The gryphons will not expect us to offer their young something they would not offer. I would press to send them into Equestri, as political prisoners until things blow over. Believe me, that would be a kindness”
“Very well.” Pensword muttered, “That would be the best bet. They shall be sent back, I shall put Captain Hurricane in charge of that transport, unless you wish to bring them to Unity.”
“Unfortunately, I will be helping out at a wedding.” Grif said. “I couldn’t afford the trip”
Pensword smirked and chuckled. “Very well. Then I shall find somepony else to-” he paused and then face hoofed. “I can keep them here and hand them over to the Princesses. They will be wanting to tour the fortress themselves.”
“Very well.” Grif nodded. “I will lead the troops through the gate when you have opened it.”
“Good. I shall let you go. And remember: leave the Daughter alive. I need her to prevent civilian bloodshed. I shall not become the monster that killed my parents.” His eyes held Grif’s. “Understood?”
“I do not kill children, nor those who cannot defend themselves.” Grif locked eyes with Pensword. “One would think after all we have been through you would think more of me.”
Pensword smiled. “I wanted to hear that one more time from your beak. I want to be assured of your stance.” He looked to the tent wall. “I am on a thin line and I fear I may fall off the edge. I am sorry I ask you that, but it helps me to keep my mind clear, Grif. You are one of my lighthouses in the darkness.”
“I do not kill children or those who cannot defend themselves,” grif stated again with firmness. “My justice would not allow it from me”
Pensword smiled, looking relieved to hear that affirmation. “Very well. Now… I need to plan the assault some more. I am being given what troops can be spared. If I am ordered to give up any more units it would be a thin rope holding us together.” He looked to the edge of their meeting space. “If you would excuse me.” He looked to the Dream Stalkers. “Make sure my tent is not bothered. I doubt the others would care that I am speaking with other generals.” They knew he meant that only he would be heard in that meeting. “I look forward to when this is over,” he muttered.
The weather had turned cold and overcast. The stars that Luna normally controlled lay hidden from view. The Gryphons were slowly cooking their evening stews as they built up their fires to allow warmth. They were confident that they would not be attacked by any real assaults. They knew that the Lunar Princess would not risk battling it alone in case there were more black tips willing to die to kill her. They chuckled as they flaunted their “conquest” of their side of the river to the great falls.
Meanwhile, on the Pony side of the river, Princess Luna stood facing the glowing fires of the Gryphon Pickets. She took a deep breath, having removed every article of clothing from her armor to her royal regalia. No ponies save a few thestrals she trusted were around as she took another deep breath and closed her eyes. Her horn slowly glowed and her form began to ripple as a star filled blanket began to wrap around her. Her body tuned translucent as stars sparked into being along her coat. She began to grow in size, her eyes remaining closed. Her new form swelled larger until she was the size of a medium sized manor. She mentally had picked Lord Hammer Strike’s manor for her size. While big, it was still small compared to the other Lords and the perfect size for an Ursa Minor. Finally, she began to smile as she opened her eyes, taking her first steps forward.
The pickets along the riverbank paused in their cooking and patrolling to see a bank of the clouds part, allowing the stars to shine. It was only a moment later that their minds registered that this part of the night sky did not hold any constellations they had ever seen. On top of that, the sky was slowly moving, growing larger and larger as it floated towards them. Suddenly two massive eyes opened glowing a bright yellow with mystical power. The Gryphons stood, dumbstruck, as this creature started to ford the river. They watched, terrified. The water did not even come up to the knees of this beast, nor was the current strong enough to force the beast to stop or fall on its side. It just kept on moving forward, a true force of nature.
“STAR BEAST!” Yelled a young Gryphon who had arrived only a day ago with another unit. They were hoping to ford the river in two days to attack the other side first. Only now an Ursa Minor was attacking them. The Gryphons jolted at the words. While many brandished weapons, the older, wiser Gryphons quickly fell back even as arrows were loosed and the roar of the beast carried over the banks of the river.
A moment later the Gryphon General was flying towards the retreating picket lines, ready to order them back when he saw with one swipe of a paw, eighteen Gryphons were swept into the river and carried beyond the falls. Another five were killed with a back hand of the bear’s paw. His eyes narrowed as instead of a star like most star beasts, he saw a crescent moon on its forehead. Still, he did not have time to order an attack. The Bear was already wrecking the camp, stomping out fires, and spilling the stews.
“Fall back to the forest line. Take all the weapons you can carry. Fall back and regroup!” The general barked as he turned tail. He could not see the rock the bear had hefted until it was too late. The boulder crushed him and several officers as it sailed, bouncing on the ground and making havoc of the camp. The bear roared again. Any semblance of an orderly retreat turned into a mad dash for the tree line as many younger warriors foolishly tried to fight, not believing the stories of how powerful Ursas truly were. They never got to learn from their mistake. Some, however, did manage to live long enough to see Thestrals crossing the river by wing. One Gryphon with a broken wing and leg escaped to inform any who would listen that the ponies were marching from the north to take their camp. Tragically, he did not live long enough to see his message delivered as he shuddered, releasing a death rattle as the ancestors called him to the winds.
The Troops barely managed to regroup when a Messenger flew in to the disorderly camp, handing a scroll to the only Gryphon that looked like he was still in charge before taking off to deliver more messages, only to fall flailing to the ground as three arrows pierced his hide. This brought renewed chaos as they rushed to retreat further into the woods. It would not be until much later that many would wonder where the Star Bear went, as it seemed as soon as the bank was secured it simply vanished.
Princess Luna smiled smugly as her form returned to normal and she slowly trotted to the camp to help loot it of supplies and intel. It was while still moving forward that one of her guards came up, forming a protective ring around her as they checked over her for any damages. She smiled and actually wondered what they would look like with some Thestral traits. She pondered that as her unicorn guard handed a scroll marked with a seal. However, the seal, she noted, was askew and untidy. She broke open the seal and read the letter only half way before laughing and smiling as she handed it to Piercing Roar to read. Which she began to do so, aloud.
“To all able Gryphons who receive this missive. Fort Triumph is under seige from all sides, both living and dead. The dead are turning into bats as I write this. Our own bodies are dying and decaying as if the curses of some ancient being are spreading. We have found wings pinned to the walls tonight. Our parties for food are never coming back. I cannot sleep. None can sleep. We are being attacked by the night, by the ghosts of all. We must kill the halfling. He is binding Gryphons to him. One is always seen in the camp and yet not even touched. He is binding our proud warriors from the wind to his needs! We need help to slay them. Our bodies grow weak and our enemies are taking our energy and our spirit. Help before it is too late and we all become cursed to fight for prey.” She smirked. “It appears that this was written by a medium ranked officer in the Gryphons. It seems they are beginning to realize that their luck is running out.
Princess Luna smiled as she looked on the land and pondered. “I think there shall be a bridge built near this location to commemorate this day.” She turned to one of her guards. “Write it down and have it worked on after the war. We demand a bridge be built. It shall be known as the Star Bear Bridge.” She proclaimed with a proud flourish. “Now, my fellow Warriors, Charge the enemy!” She crowed as she lunged into the underbrush, her armor glowing white as she pursued the enemy, her cry bringing fear into their hearts as they beheld one of the Princesses dressed like an ancient warrior bearing the hide and bones of a great beast. The Gryphon armies of the Great Falls campaign lost many lives as they fled for a staging ground. Many had lost their colors as well. In one night the region of what would become Twin Banks City fell from the Gryphons into Princess Luna’s personal army’s hooves. Not knowing that another broken army, or what was left of it, was marching toward Fort Triumph, now, Princess Luna was following another decimated army towards the Fortress, following the trail of abandoned supplies and dying soldiers no longer able to fight.
Pensword paused as his body twitched. He Crumbled the parchment into a ball and threw it against the wall of his tent. Four others lay crumbled where the fifth had landed. He growled and looked to the ceiling. “Faust give me strength to lead.” he muttered. He looked down at the letter that had given him the most grief for the past hour. It was a letter from Promethean Flame demanding he give up a quarter of his remaining troops to allow him the strength to conquer the other side of what now were called The Ghost Mountains, named after the lost souls the Gryphons had taken. He shook with anger as he got up from his seat and moved to the map on his tent wall. What got him even more upset was where he would have to march through with his troops. He was not going to let some upstart noble who insulted him, his future mate, Grif, and his friend and only family he had left through what is essentially empty land open to any noble to claim. Celestia was holding troops out of that area out of respect but time was drawing to a close and he did not see how he could keep another noble from claiming and owning his birthland.
He sighed and closed his eyes for a moment before opening them again. He blinked and shifted a stiff stance. “Baron Happy Hooves!” he replied in shock.
Happy Hooves just looked at Pensword before smiling. He kept smiling as he slowly faded away. A few seconds later Captain Hurricane walked into the tent, frowning. “It seems Promethean Flame is calling in a old debt to my father on me. I am to force you to give him the troops he demands. He claims that I am only seeking personal glory by supporting you in this endeavor.” He looked to his friend. “I know you wanted to wait a little longer, but under the current circumstances ... will you consider pushing the timetable up?”
Pensword looked to his friend, then broke his gaze, staring at the side of the tent without a smile. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, it crept its way onto his muzzle. “Yes. We shall attack two days from now,” He said, his voice excited. “Make sure the clouds begin their rain again. I want to ensure that the Gryphons cannot fly in the weather. I am hopeful a few more will develop wing rot in that time. Or at the very least another case of mildew.”
“As you command, my friend. I shall be at your side when we take the outer walls.” Hurricane responded with a bow. He turned around and left his friend in his tent and slowly trotted to his own, blinking as he had an idea, a candle appearing over his head. He would send the letter from Promethean Flame to Princess Celestia with a request of his own. Hoping that he was not making a rash choice by asking to use his one boon as a Hurricane, he sat down inside his tent at a portable writing table. The only other furnishings available were a cott and a few satchels for him to carry. It was a dwelling more fit for a Commanding Officer then a noble, no less an Heir to the Hurricane name and house upon his father’s death or retirement. He shook his head, shoving his swirling thoughts aside as he pulled out a roll of parchment, ink well, and a quill pen. He began to write: Dear Princess Celestia. He paused and pulled out another parchment and wrote Dear Princess Luna upon it as well before focusing on his letter to Celestia.
Pensword had placed the letter back into his letter chest to look at later. He paused in his pacing as he heard Grif enter the tent, the burlap flap whooshing open and shut. He also heard two others come in behind him. He did not even turn around. “Grif, Little Willow, Big Oak, how are you doing tonight? Are you prepared for the snowstorm, hail, and rain I have planned for the next three days? We mount our assault in four. We are moving up the timetable. Another noble has forced my hoof to attack sooner than I planned by a week.”
“Have you slept in the last few days?” Grif asked, raising an eyebrow.
Pensword turned around and looked at his friend with a raised eyebrow. “Do I look like Lord Hammer Strike?”
“That’s not an answer. You look like you're going to collapse.” grif said
“It is hard to sleep,” Pensword spoke. “I … I sleep and I feel like I have to keep making more plans. I also got a letter two days ago from Promethean Flame that is demanding what would equate to the last of all but Thestrals under my command. He is also planning just by my own process of elimination to take control of my old home. Do you think I can sleep when I risk losing my land to some insufferable noble?” He paused and took a breath, letting it out slowly. “Grif, I am pushing the timetable up. I have to be there and I cannot afford to let up now. They are starting to flee on all sides now and the nobles are not pulling their weight. I cannot keep having you go after the stragglers. However, I have placed my own Thestrals around to help with the sealing of the borders. I know you are doing your best. All my men are doing their best. Thank Faust that they ran into a dead end canyon and forgot they could fly. Or perhaps they were too tired.” He shook his head, a look of profound exasperation covering all. “Grif, I need sleep but I cannot sleep ... I cannot,” he whispered hollowly.
“Forgive me,” Grif said before striking the back of pensword’s neck with the hilt of his knife. Grabbing the pony as he fell unconscious, Grif hauled him carefully over to his cot and set him down. “Them being tired won’t be much of an advantage if you don’t sleep either,” he said to the unconscious pegasus thestral hybrid as he removed what armor he could and covered him. The gryphon turned to the letters and the quill and ink still waiting. He could handle the paperwork for now.
The bells of Fillydelphia rang proudly through the streets. In fact, the entire city was celebrating the end of the siege. Ponies swarmed out in droves, filling the streets as they hugged and kissed one another. What surprised the Thestrals was how many hugs and kisses they received from the residents. Lunar Fang found herself suddenly embraced by one of the apprentice smiths and blushed violently as she received a kiss on the muzzle.
She instinctively lashed out with a hoof, accidentally sending the apprentice to the ground. “Oh, I’m sorry” She said. “But I’m spoken for.”
“Oh,” He muttered, “Well, this is a day of celebration. I hope you didn’t mind too much. I guess I might go nurse my bruised jaw. You have a good jab.”
Hammer Strike also found himself suddenly kissed by a Pegasus mare who was hanging upside down. She looked happy as she darted away, whooping for joy at the victory.
Hammer Strike blinked, confused for a moment as he looked around. “Well…” He muttered to himself. “That happened.”
“What now?” Lunar Fang looked to Hammer Strike. “What do you wish to do?”
“Get ready for travel, I guess.” Hammer Strike shrugged. “We have work to do in the direction of Fort Triumph…”
“We should give the troops an hour to celebrate at least,” Lunar Fang said. “We did strike a rather large blow after all.”
“Of course. They will get their break,” He replied. “I shall be packing my tools and such though. You know, get myself ready to leave.”
“Of course.” Lunar Fang nodded. “I will see that we get adequate food stores ready.”
Hammer Strike nodded before heading off towards the forge. Upon arrival he found himself alone, the others obviously out celebrating with everyone else. Moving over to his workbench, he began roll up and pack any blueprints that he wanted to keep while burning the others.
A pegasus apprentice entered a few minutes later and looked at Hammer Strike. “Do, you need any help packing up? You are taking us with you, are you not? Or are you leaving us in charge of the forges here?”
“I shall send a message to Celestia asking what she wants. She just gave me enough information on what we were doing where, but no information on what happens afterwards.” He sighed. “Why are you not out there celebrating with the others?”
“I,” she started. “Well ... I am a little nervous around big crowds and after the last three stallions tried to kiss me I thought it might be best if I just helped in the forge or something. Still, I might just head back to my room and start packing up there.” She smiled shyly and turned around. “Fillydelphia is and shall forever be grateful for what you have done.”
Hammer Strike paused in his work. “I doubt they would pay attention to the little work I accomplished.”
“We shall see. I doubt the town will forget the number of anvils you destroyed.” She chuckled and clip clopped out of the forge. Soon after a stallion was pushed in through the forge doors. He looked confused and swayed a little. He smiled, nodded to Hammer Strike, and passed out on the floor.
“Wow. Ten minutes into the celebration.” Hammer looked to the stallion on the floor. “A new record.”
Lunar Fang looked to her fellow soldier, who was speaking at the moment. “What are the plans for your personal troops? Fillydelphia stands free and the Gryphons are being pushed from the city. Are we to move to the front lines?”
“Yes. We march for Triumph.” lunar fang answered.
“As you command. Shall the others be coming as well?” He asked, referring to the non-Thestrals. “I pray that your courtship ends happily,” he muttered as they kept walking toward the tents, the troops still celebrating. Lunar Fang was now flanked by two Thestral stallions to prevent any more incidental kissing.
“We will need all who we can bring. There is no telling what we may have to deal with when we arrive.” Lunar fang nodded curtly. “See that wagons are provisioned by anything the Fillydelphians can spare. And thank you, Dark Wing,” she said, blushing.
“As you command.” The Thestrals replied as they moved to relay the orders, leaving Lunar Fang to walk the last few steps to her tent. She paused, looking to the tent door and then to the sky. “I’ll see you soon, Pensword.” She whispered.
Pensword’s eyes fluttered open. The first thing he noticed was that his neck was sore. Second, he was in his bed. Third, he felt fully rested. Fourth, his mother was laughing. Fifth, he blinked, noticing Grif at his desk looking over paperwork. He sat up and roared. “GRIF!” He noticed that some of his armor lay at the side of his bed. Swiftly, he flew out of his cot, the blanket falling to the ground. A small eddy was forming in the room from the beat of his wings.
“Breakfast is on the stand by your bed. Don’t say anything until it’s all gone,” the gryphon said casually, comparing a few reports as he jotted some new figures.
Pensword did not say another word. He knew his friend too well. He moved to the stand and began to eat his breakfast. After regaining his lost memories, he had noticed Pensword had picked up a vice. He had become a tea drinker. Thankfully, he never had strong drink, but he had come to enjoy his tea. On top of being a healthy alternative to wine it also provided a safe way to drink water due to the high temperatures involved in boiling. Still, he frowned at how he could not give it up. He had tried a few times. In fact, that was one of the reasons for his restless nights. He was going through tea withdrawal. “I seems I have become an English Gentleman.” He muttered in Dragonic.
“Steeped for three and a half minutes. Mathematically perfect,” Grif responded in kind.
Pensword chuckled, soon after discovering two cubes of sugar already in his tea cup. “Did you put the sugar cubes in my tea?” he asked as he picked up the pot. “Just asking to make sure this is how you set it up.”
“We’re at war,” Grif noted. “I got the sugar from the stores personally.”
Pensword nodded his head and poured the drink. He looked around to make sure he was alone before he spoke Dragonic. “I am just … you knew me before. I drank only herbal tea. And now, here I am drinking what might be the equivalent of Green Tea or an Earl Grey, I think.”
The Gryphon shrugged his shoulders. “I’ve double checked the numbers a few times and managed to move a few around to optimize the troops we have left. I was talking with the Thestrals and we may have a plan for getting in undetected. so far, it looks like the cut in our numbers won’t be quite so painful as anticipated. I also sent a message to celestia with hammer strike’s seal asking for Promethean Flame to be recalled to Unity over an emergency matter and have done my best to get that letter you were writing across to Weathered Storm.”
“That is good to hear. Thank you for that,” Pensword replied as he took another sip of tea. He gave an involuntary shudder of relief before returning to his meal with gusto. He paused after he swallowed another bite. “It is good to hear that we have the men we need. But if it is possible, I would rather keep the troops and send them to Promethean after we capture the Fortress. Still, I cannot have everything I want. Do you feel we can finish this siege in four days with the nightmares helping?”
“We’ll need to begin full bombardement by tomorrow evening. Bolts, your lighting rods, boulders, fire rocks, the whole shebang. If we speed that up we should be able to pull it off,” Grif noted. “It’s the inside of the fortress that will be the real test.”
“Very well. Carry the order to resume bombardment again tomorrow evening. And don’t let up for two days straight. Meanwhile the weather, lightning, and storms will be unleashed over their heads.” Pensword took another bite before turning to eat the rest of his meal. There’s nothing worse than a cold breakfast to a recuperating soldier.
“There are some herbs for your neck on the table, by the way,” Grif noted. “Little willow was very careful to make sure everything was nice and clean.”
“Thank you,” Pensword replied as he finished his meal. He soon found the compress. With a little help from Grif, he gingerly applied it to his neck, letting the herbs do their job. “Today, we have much to do. Shall we get to it?”
The Gryphon nodded as he took some documents to the flap of the tent. He called out to a messenger and had him distribute the orders to the officers. “Three days worth of things that can go wrong. Lets hope lady luck still likes my eyes.” The Gryphon chuckled as he helped Pensword back into his armor.
“Or my gumption,” Pensword muttered. “All I can say is that the Gryphons are practically dazed zombies the way they are acting at the moment, just happy they are still alive. At least the strong willed ones.” He looked to the walls. “Come next week we shall be looking at them from the other side, out into the forest.”
“Come next week, they will be looking at us from the top of a pike,” Grif responded grimly.
“With hopefully an empty city occupied as well,” Pensword muttered. “This valley shall be Equestrian by war’s end.”
“You remember the modern map?” grif noted in draconian. “We push the Gryphonian territorial lines back to the sea.”
“Yes, we push them off this land mass even,” Pensword replied as he shook his head. “They shall never forget that, shall they?” He chuckled slightly as Grif joined in.
“Gryphons are a hard headed, thick skulled bunch.” Grif smiled tapping his head. “You got to beat a point in there to make it stick.”
“Oh, I plan on it.” Pensword’s voice took an edge to it. “I shall make sure they regret ever setting talon on my village.”
After few hours of celebration, Hammer Strike was finally able to convince the group to progress towards Fort Triumph. Two of three of the apprentices were leaving with him while the last one, Bronze Ore, stayed behind in Fillydelphia to train the other smiths and keep equipment in check.
Lunar Fang had worked to get the wagons set up with provisions for the trip. Fortunately, the Fillydelphians were more than happy to give what they could to Hammer Strike’s forces.
Though they had wagons to haul equipment, Hammer Strike wanted to keep his gear on. Wearing a set of armor, minus the helmet, he stepped nobly forward, shining in the sun. He also carried his great sword and hammer across each other on his back while two short swords stayed at his sides. It made for a very noble appearance and more than one young filly swooned as he led his troops through the town’s streets and out into the wilderness.
Lunar Fang checked with the thestral scouts every ten miles. It was near midday on the second day since they'd set out when she came back with some interesting news. “Gryphon forces coming from the direction of Neighagra falls. They seem scattered and disarrayed at the moment.”
“Then I guess we should do something about that, should we not?” Hammer Strike questioned.
“If we’re quick we could arrange an ambush further up,” Lunar Fang suggested.
“Either way we need to stop them from getting too far.”
“I’ll give the orders to move” Lunar Fang said “You should get the non combatants hidden away.”
“I shall get on that, then.” Hammer Strike said.
“Forward!” lunar fang ordered as her troops moved to route the gryphons’ escape. The ambush had been a rousing success. The gryphons had stumbled into the battlefield scared and confused. By the time they realised they were under attack their numbers were already falling rapidly. Some of the older warriors had put up a fight, but for the most part the fighting was quick and brutal. The thestrals especially seemed to take pride in the brutality they rained upon their enemies.
The Gryphons finally did something that Hammer Strike never had never seen before. They were starting to wave anything white in an attempt to surrender. The leadership was crushed.The remaining hundred Gryphons had no clue what to do, nor the energy to even fight. Soon enough,Princess Luna came charging into the fray and it became only too obvious why the troops were so razzled. The Gryphons promptly threw their weapons to the ground, making sure that their enemy knew they were done.
“Well, would you look at that,” Hammer Strike started. “They are attempting to surrender.”
“Your orders?” Lunar Fang spoke looking to Hammer Strike, as well as most of the other troops. A temporary lull had developed.
“We accept thy Surrender!” Princess Luna yelled in her Royal Canterlot Voice from the midst of the battlefield. “Guards. Take these forces back to Unity to be held as prisoners of war. The night warriors and we shall continue our march to Triumph to lend our hooves to the assault there.”
“Well, now that they are taken care of,” Hammer Strike started. “Time to see how Luna has been doing.” He said, trotting towards the princess. Drawing near, he was proud to see her wearing the armor he made from the ursa bones.
Lunar Fang smiled and bowed to Princess Luna before turning around. “I shall make sure the forces are merged successfully for the coming march. High Chieftess Luna, you shall be leading the forces, I presume?” She paused, making a mental note to ask Hammer Strike later on who he would want her serving at the moment.
“Of course.” Luna nodded. “We shall charge ahead to support Pensword.”
The early morning mist hung silently in the air. The sun was nowhere to be seen, covered by the lowering storm clouds. Suddenly the air was rent by a flash of lightning, a terrible crash of thunder, and eventually, a sopping curtain of rain as it poured down once more. The Gryphons rose their heads wearily to the sky before returning their gaze to the forest. The walls were pincushioned by metal rods, virtually abandoned to keep soldiers from being electrocuted by lightning. From above the clouds there rose a cry as Thestrals dropped and the rain and lightened, turning to snow. The wall guards were the first to fall.
Just outside of bow range, Grif waited with the secondary troops. They stood with the fortress in view, waiting for the first sign of the gate to open. Pensword and the thestrals had made for their separate entrances over two hours ago, so it was likely the gate would fall soon. Grif planned to be the first one through.
Suddenly the gates rose as Thestrals appeared, signalling the secondary troops through the gates. As Grif started running, a few Gryphons rose from behind, only to fall to Pensword’s wing blades as he snorted and yelled in a fury that neither Grif nor Taze had ever seen in Pensword or Matthew before. He was gone into one of the doorways and his ears could hear metal hitting metal before a Gryphon fell limply out one of the windows. He was already clearing another part of the gatehouse. The first wall had been breached.
Grif was startled by his friend’s ferocity, but didn’t stop as he charged into the fray, impaling a gryphon through the chest from behind before slashing the throat of another. The fire burning in pensword’s eyes blazed with such intensity he could feel the heat from where he stood. The ponies crashed upon the gryphons like a tidal wave of death. The ponies were well armed and well rested, fired by a passion to defend their own. the gryphons were tired and soaked to the bone. Many were unable even to fully bring their weapons to bare. In the end, it wasn’t battle, it was slaughter.
The first layer, which was food and the like, was quickly secured. Now, they were working on breaking down the gates and doors from the first layer into the second. Pensword and the other flyers quickly took to the air and settled upon the wall. Grif landed next to Pensword as he turned and actually bucked the door in, reducing it to splinters as he dropped, allowing Grif to attack any enemies that might be behind.
Grif charged into the room instantly. The sounds of close combat soon followed: metal on metal, a few screams, and grunts of pain rang out before fading into an eerie silence. “Clear,” Grif called a few moments later in a pained tone.
Pensword entered the room as the light from a lantern glinted off his armor. Blood dripped from his wing blades. He looked to the trap door and nodded to Grif to destroy it, allowing him entry to the lower level. He would have his revenge. Everywhere he looked, he saw his town, his friends. They looked pleased as their cries for revenge were being answered. At the moment the other troops had left the two to pretty much tag team through their personal vendettas.
The battle carried on in a similar fashion. Pensword breaking down a barricade, and grif rushing in to surprise the enemy. Eventually they approached a hallway Grif recognised instantly. “Your quarry is up those stairs” Grif said.
“Right. Find the female and capture her. I shall fight and subdue the Commander,” he whispered as he moved and started up the stairs, deliberately making each step fall heavily. He wanted that Gryphon to know the sound of his doom. Pensword looked around the hallway. They were in the second zone and he was in the Commander’s quarters. He paused at a door and found it ajar, not sealed. Pensword paused and looked to find a pole arm. He quickly picked it up and using the pole arm he pushed the door open.
Inside the commander stood proudly, just as arrogant as pensword remembered him: dressed for battle and ready to fight. In his hands he held his sword. It glinted wickedly in the lightning strikes. Candles flickered in the chamber, granting enough light to illuminate what would soon be their dueling grounds. He stood ready for pensword, growling. To the Gryphon,Pensword appeared unarmed. And yet his armored wings were bloody.
“I have come for you. I am death.” pensword growled, not moving, only waiting. He was going to let the enemy make the first move. He would capture him for a drum head trial. Then the coming sunrise would see him swinging dead over the gate of Fort Triumph.
The gryphon rushed forward with a vertical slash.
Pensword only raised a wing and took the slash full force. The armor held and he did not flinch. “My name is Pensword. You killed my family. Prepare to die.” He whispered, then used his wing to push the blade away, raising another wing to block a slash from one of the talons.
“I have killed many ponies,” the gryphon said rushing him with a series of well timed thrusts and slashes.
Each one was blocked or pushed back by his armor or a thrust of his own. Each time the commander struck Pensword he let it hit, repeating the same line over and over. “I am Pensword. You killed my family. Prepare to die.” He continued to block, taking the hits. He could feel it in his body but he would not risk a move yet. He hoped Grif would finish his task quickly so he could force the commander to surrender peacefully.
Grif moved silently along the fortress hallway. The gryphoness would likely be in the safest place possible, aside from the royal chambers, which were locked. “Come out,” The gryphon spoke calmly as he moved across the hallways. “I promise I won’t hurt you ... this time.”
He heard a sound he was not expecting: a small hatchling’s whimper came from one of the rooms to his left.
Grif turned to the left, following the sound of the voice. He put his swords away, drawing only his stiletto for protection in case of a trap.
He found a door barricaded with three Thestrals looking at the door with worry and then to Grif. “Six Hatchlings and what sounds like a female Gryphon are inside. Some of the hatchlings might be armed as well.” They slowly withdrew to let Grif handle this situation. They did not want to risk killing noncombatants.
“Female gryphon. You are the commander’s daughter, are you not?” Griff shouted out to the barricaded door.
“Yes. What are we to do, fellow warrior?” She called out, her voice nervous. “Shall you watch while I go and save my father?”
“I am not your fellow warrior.” grif responded. “Release the hatchlings and surrender yourself and I will not harm them. Neither will the ponies”
“Do you swear upon your clan?” She demanded. “That no harm shall come to them?”
“I cannot swear upon any name but my own. And Lord Hammer Strike’s should it mean anything to you. And possibly Graff. For he was my father and a more honorable gryphon I have never known.”
“You claim the birthright of Graff?” She gasped and he could hear her moving items in the other room. “I shall open the door and I shall do what you need me to do.” He heard her move some more items. “Do you have something other than Pony meat?” She asked. “It is all we are allowed to eat now.” Her tone indicated a mild disgust. The door opened and she ushered the Hatchlings out.
Grif instructed the Thestrals to take the hatchlings and to treat them fairly, but not to allow any near a weapon. Then, in one movement he took his stiletto and pressed it under the female’s neck. “Before anything is to be done with you, you will come with me to see you father.”
She looked terrified, but did not struggle, nor did she make a sound as she slowly led him through the halls to her father’s quarters. Once they were alone, she spoke. “Are you not going to interrogate me? Or tell me why you fight for the nightmare bringers?”
“I fight against those who make us no better than the beasts of the land.” Grif spoke in a low, dangerous tone. “Now you are going to come with me and if you so much as twitch out of line i will leave your blood pooled all over the floor.”
“Very well,” She responded her head slightly, a small bead of blood forming at the dagger’s tip. “I shall follow and you shall lead from behind, I take it?” She asked matter of factly. “I shall gladly cooperate if you answer me one question. What shall befall the hatchlings?”
“Equestria is much more charitable than we gryphons are,” grif said, glaring at her. “The princesses will see them taken care of, but they will remain in equestria until this war is ended.”
She held out her talons to be bound. “I submit to your care until my fate is decided.” She spoke, voice bewildered as she tried to comprehend why a Gryphon would choose to willingly fight with the Ponies.
Grif took a length of cord from his pack, tying her talons together one-handed. After he had finished binding her, he removed the blade. “You will glide above the ground. Make any attempt to accelerate or go higher and I will catch you and I will remove your wings. Do you understand?”
She nodded her head up and down as she flapped, following his orders to the letter. She panicked briefly as she had thought she had risen too high. Before Grif could react, she dropped to the ground hard and tried again. She paused after a lighter flap of her wings and looked at Grif. “This high?” She asked, looking worried.
“It will do. Now, forward,” he said gesturing with his stiletto. “Let us settle this matter once and for all.”
Pensword shuddered as the Commander struck another part of his armor. He knew Hammer Strike would not like how he was treating it. Still, he trusted his friend’s skills. He looked to the Commander. “Hello, my name is Pensword. You killed my family. Prepare to die.” He cleared his throat, hoping that he would get on the nerves of the commander enough for him to make a mistake. Suddenly, the commander paused, taking a step back and breathing heavily. “Had enough? Are you ready to surrender and meet your fate? Do you surrender to the Prey? Do you surrender to the sole survivor of the town you refused to show mercy? Do you wish to surrender now to the son of the Thestral you ate that night? I promise you this: I shall roast your body on a spit as you did my mayor.”
The commander’s eyes widened in shock, startled by the pony’s words for a brief moment. But it passed quickly, and soon he pressed his attack once more, fire burning in his eyes. “Then I will finish what I started that night!” The gryphon bellowed as he charged, hammering blow upon blow.
Pensword took the blows and parried others with his wing blades when the door behind them was pushed open. He smirked as the ringing of a blade hitting an outstretched wing filled the room before fading to silence. “You there, Grif?”
“Shira...l” the commander spoke as he turned away.
“Drop the sword and surrender the fort and yourself, or your daughter bleeds out,” Grif growled as he held the stiletto blade to her throat.
“So, you show your true colors, Benedicto Arnaldo,” the gryphon spat. “And here I believed you were taken by the intruder that night. Would you really sink so low as to betray your own kind for beasts?”
“I never served your damned emperor. The winds never intended for gryphons to prey on the intelligent. Now drop the sword, or she dies.” Grif pressed the blade closer to her neck. Her pure white feathers stained red as the blade split the skin.
“Father, what does honor demand?” She asked with fear and confusion. “Is the survival of your only hatchling and clan worth the honor of holding a fortress?” She dared not even swallow. “We have lost. Somehow, we lost the favor of the winds.”
Pensword slowly moved to allow the two to fully look on the other. Then he smirked to the Commander. “At this moment you two may be the only living Gryphons left in the Fortress. Tick Tock, commander. Will you save a life in your last moments? Or shall you condemn her to the fate of all who face my forces?”
“And if I surrender, what becomes of her?” The gryphon asked pensword.
Pensword moved a wing to delay Grif’s actions. “She will be sent to the village at the other end of the valley with your symbol of command to evacuate all civilians and give her an honorable retreat. After that moment, if she comes against us, or we see her again on the field of battle, she will fight for her life and most likely lose it. However, here, she lives, and so does the town that I have no grievances against. It is the Emperor’s military that I fight. Not civilians. I am not the monster you have chosen to be.”
“I have your word?” the gryphon asked.
“As one military leader to another. She will be used as a means to clean out a village for our taking. She will live to see a few more sunrises and moonrises. After the village is cleared, her fate will be hers alone. That is my word, Commander Bloodfeather.”
“Very well.” The Gryphon dropped his sword and threw up his arms. “I concede.”
“Good.” Pensword moved forward and used rope that he had hidden beneath his armor to bind Bloodfeather’s talons and beak. “Now march.” He moved, turning to Grif at the door. “Bring her along. She will witness what I witnessed that night.” Pensword pushed harshly and the prisoner began marching forward again. “Any false moves and the both of you die,” he growled.
Pensword sat behind a collection of drums. Both Gryphon and Pony eyed the now tied up Commander. He had been stripped of all armor and weapons. Metal blunts covered his talons and his wings were bound by a thickly woven rope. The ponies glared. “Commander Jorund Bloodfeather. You stand before this military tribunal of Equestria to answer for the war crimes you have committed and ordered those troops within your charge to commit. I shall now read the charges which stand against you.” He paused to unroll a scroll. “You are hereby charged for crimes against Pony Kind, crimes against the Princesses of the Moon and Sun, the mass murder of the entire town of Mountainside Falls, the destruction of Baron Hooves’ estate and all who lived therein, refusal to heed warnings, and the unneeded deaths of soldiers. The sentence of any of these crimes is death by choice of the executioner, which, in this case, would be death by hanging.” He set the scroll down. “How do you plead against these crimes?” He looked to the Commander. His beak had been untied for the proceedings. Behind Pensword, Bloodfeather’s daughter also stood, bound and under close watch as she viewed his trial.
“Does it matter?” Jorund asked.
“Yes, It does. For the trial, and for others to hear your voice, yes.” Pensword’s eyes narrowed. “Also, so that those that you killed may hear your words and finally have the rest they deserve.”
“I did what was within my imperative! If this is a crime, then I plead guilty,” the gryphon answered.
“Who gave the order?” Pensword demanded. “Was it necessary to kill and eat an entire village?” He stood still and waited for the response. “It is a crime, is it not, to commit the genocide of an entire race?”
“You know who gave the order,” Jorund said, bristling with arrogance and hate. “State your decision and be done with it.”
“Very well. The Tribunal of this court shall convene to make its verdict.” He stood up and walked over to the other five officers standing nearby with one honorary Gryphon. They held a brief whispered conference before Pensword returned, resuming the “stand.”
“We find the accused Guilty of all crimes and he is sentenced to be hung from the front gate of this fortress at dawn, which once accomplished, shall be buried wingless in a pony grave. Feathers from his corpse shall be sent as a message to the kings and Emperor of the Gryphons. Case dismissed,” he ordered, banging a metal hoof on the drum. “Bring Shrial forward for her sentencing.”
Two Thestral mares brought the gryphoness forward. Grif had elected to keep an eye on the orphaned hatchlings until arrangements could be made, hoping to sow some seeds of change in future generations.
“Shrial, you are a Major of the Gryphon forces. You have eaten pony flesh and led two raiding parties into Equestrian lands. Yet you have brought back no live ponies. I would sentence you to death for your role played in this Fortress and in the past. However, this council is willing to lend you a reprieve. Should you accept it, you are to evacuate the village at the mouth of the valley on the Gryphon side of the border. You shall have five days to start the evacuation. If no Gryphons leave within that period, I shall be forced to call a Dragon in to raze the village to the ground to show just what I shall do to any Gryphon that does not take my olive branch. Do you understand?”
“I… I understand,” she said, trying to hold back sobs.
Pensword nodded his head. “I shall have Fox Feather and Animal Control escort you to your father’s quarters. You may take what is needed to convince them to leave.” He looked to the two. “Untie her. I doubt she will try anything here.” He banged a hoof on the drum to signal the verdict.
The two Pegasi stepped forward and untied the now sobbing Gryphoness. They stopped suddenly and Shrial looked up to see Pensword looming over her. “If you are smart, you will leave with the civilians. Know this. You are feeling the pain and emptiness I have carried since your father destroyed my village and butchered my family. My revenge ends today.” He turned swiftly, his wings snapping like a cape as he walked away. Fox Feather and Animal Control quickly filed the Gryphoness away.
Pensword stepped quickly and silently into a private room that had once been the quarters of a Gryphon officer. Looking behind him, he scanned the halls to ensure he was not followed. One satisfied, he closed the door, curled up into a ball, and wept he eyes out. He didn’t feel any better; he just felt sick.
Pensword stood, eying the noosed Gryphon in his place atop the battlement. He nodded his head once to the Thestrals on either side of the Commander. They waited a moment, then pushed him off the edge and into space. At his side, forced to watch, stood Shrial. For a moment, it seemed almost as if the commander would fly, somehow escape by miraculous means. But that hope was vain as the rope snapped taught. Two minutes later, the body hung there, limp and unmoving. Pensword looked to Shrial. “Move. Your days start now,” He commanded as the sun slowly rose higher in the sky, seeable thanks to a hole in the cloud cover. Pensword watched as Shrial slowly walked under her father’s body and out the gate as she started towards the Village. “Gryphon’s Rest shall be yours in five days.” She stated numbly, turning her head back to face the Pegasus. She stared at him for a second or two before turning back and starting walking wearing armor, her father’s sword, and a satchel with his crest and seal.
Meanwhile, a lone Unicorn explored the depths of the Fortress. He soon happened upon a strangely thick studded oak door. It was different from the others. Curious as to where it might lead, he opened it with a grunt of effort, his horn glowing like a tiny torch. This door was heavier than it appeared. Slowly, it creaked open and the unicorn peered inside. It appeared to be a set of rough hewn stairs. A cold, dank smell rose from beneath. Could this be the dungeons? Perhaps there were other ponies waiting to be rescued. With that bolstering thought, he lit up his horn and took the first steps to investigate.
A great hallway stretched before him, carved from the heart of the mountain itself, or so it seemed to his eyes. He took a left, continuing down the stretching, winding corridor. Stalagmites hung down from the ceiling and old rusty torch mounts lay hammered into the walls, evenly dispersed. The foul odor of pitch and naphtha hung in the air. On closer inspection, smudges of the substance could be seen on the floor and clinging to the rings embedded in the walls. For whatever reason, the Gryphons had cleared the tunnel of all torches. He narrowed his eyes. “What were they hiding?” He asked himself.
Taking a moment, he composed himself, his horn glowing brightly. Finally, he released the spell, sending a wave of magic flying down the corridor. Images of rushing gryphons ran through the halls, dousing torches, pulling them from walls. Jewels, gold, silver, and other precious weapons and artifacts filed on their backs down the hall. The unicorn followed the ghosts until he came to another door where they phased through. Gasping, he let the spell go, sweating as it released. Time spells, even ones to relive the ghosts of events as recent as these, were draining.
At last he regained his strength and he observed the door in question. It was made of roughly hewn metal. Scanning with another spell, he snorted. “Shoddy craftsmanship.” With a solid back kick, he broke the door from its hinges. Stepping in cautiously, he let out a gasp as his hooves echoed into a massive cavern filled to the brim with furniture. Tables of varying crafting skills lay scattered about the massive room, displaying weapons of all kinds. A peasant short sword lay next to what had to have been a Strike Sword. Closed and locked chests, barrels with unknown contents and numbers written on the fronts, bits, diamonds, gold, and other precious jewels and metals, and various parchments and important documents lined the room, filling it to the brim. It was enough to make a grown dragon weep.
On closer inspection, he began to see that all the items either had numbers or tags on them. Everything was cataloged. And that was just what he could see by the dim light of his horn. He had to increase the magic to allow more light into the room. Most of the items were pony made. As he continued his inspection, his gaze settled on a painting of a Mountain peak sitting on the wall opposite the room from him. He blinked his eyes in astonishment and felt them grow bigger as he watched the painting slowly change to that of a Pony. It mirrored his exact expression, painted from the perspective of one looking out from the painting itself.
Trembling, he spoke. “I shall take that as a sign that I need to get the others,” He said nervously, backing away from the painting before galloping headlong back down the hallway and up the stairwell. Private Blueblood would report this and leave the rest to his superiors to figure out.
Pensword looked to his friend, Hurricane III. “Right. You stay here and I shall move forward. If I do not return in ten minutes you shall know that the town is deserted and your men may march in and take it. Turn it into a forward base for future spring points into the Gryphon lands.” He ordered.
“As you command,” Hurricane replied as he and his men settled in. He looked to Pensword. “Are you taking Grif with you?”
“Yes. Even if I was not, I doubt he would be willing to let me go alone. Also, after today, I am cutting him loose and letting him tackle his duties in Gryphon territory.” He looked to Grif. “Well, unless you want to be my best at my wedding?” Pensword asked with a laugh. Grif could see worry hiding behind those eyes. A worry over what might might find at the village. “Can’t really ask you to be best pony as you are a Gryphon and I do not know the term Gryphons use for that sort of honor in a wedding.”
“Pensword, I am about to walk into the territory of a country that in less then three months would sell their collective souls to bring me in alive to be publicly humiliated. There will be long months of bloody combat, cold food, and hunting gryphons. Do you honestly think I am going to leave for that without going to your wedding first?”
Pensword smiled weakly. “I am happy to hear that.” He started to walk. “Do you think we will find it empty?” He asked Grif as they left the earshot of the other ponies. “I ... I do not desire to kill any more Gryphons.”
Grif placed a talon on his friend’s shoulder. “What's left is my task,” he told pensword. “You just need to keep that base secured.”
“Than consider it a done deal. This shall remain Equestrian territory from now until the fall of Luna,” He answered as they found themselves on the edge of the forest. “Shall we go forward as a team?”
“It’s how we started,” Grif said in draconian.
“Yes. It was,” Pensword answered in Draconian. “Just imagine. In some convoluted time of less than a year and many a lifetime ago, you and I were living normal lives. And then, because we were in the strangest of places at the wrong time, or perhaps the right one, we become ... well, this.” He inspected a hoof. “Enjoy being human a little for me, will you?” He asked as he looked up and started again for the open gates. “Be ready. There might be a trap.”
Grif drew his bow and notched an arrow. While he didn’t draw the arrow back yet, he kept it in place as they entered, ready to fire at a moments notice.
The streets were empty, the doors wide open. It felt like a ghost town to Pensword’s older half. They found that the boulevard from the open gates of the fortified town led into the main square of the town. There they found Shrian bowed low in the dust with a sign next to her, begging she be allowed to join her father. At her other side was the satchel and items she had carried with her to convince the town to leave under military orders. Pensword looked to Grif and shook his head. He spoke in Draconic. “She is taking the easy way out. I want to teach her what real honor is, just from seeing this. Wishing for death … that is the coward’s way out. I say we deny her.”
Grif’s talons twitched and pensword could feel his eagerness to end it all, but the Gryphon held back. He kept his eyes searching around them for movement as he motioned pensword forward.
Pensword stepped up and spoke. “Are you alone?”
“Alone and willing to join my father. You said that I would die if you saw me again.” She answered. “I, I cannot live with this hole in my chest. How it must have driven you mad.” She looked up, slowly. Tears stood in her eyes. “Please, finish me and end my father’s clan. I cannot live with the shame of what has happened to my family.”
“This is what the empire does with female gryphons.” Grif spoke slowly, his voice dripping with malice and contempt. “Breeds, burns, and beats weakness into their very soul. Even now she can’t even muster the strength to look in your eye while begging for her death like a coward.”
Pensword glared down at the Gryphoness before turning to Grif. He spoke in Equestrian. “Then shall we teach and give her the courage to ask properly? Bring one more mark of anger by proving that a Gryphoness can be just as strong as a Gryphon?” He turned and once again beheld the girl. His next words were spoken in Draconian. “What should we do with her?”
Pensword watched Grif’s eyes intently. The color almost seemed to flicker between two different shades of blue, like two powers warring for dominance. At last, the light won out, and the Gryphon spoke with a shudder. “Grif… wants to kill her,” he answered in draconian. “But...but I don’t want her dead.” In that moment his voice shifted. The harsh bravado, the french undertone, the hardness, all were gone. “She doesn’t need to die for this,” He said, shaking his head.
“So then, is there a means to symbolically kill her? Make her dead and yet let her still breathe?” He asked in Draconian. He sighed. “Thank the heavens that Conor is not here. I shudder to think what he would do in this situation.”
“She was forced to become what she is.” Taze seemed to be fighting a little harder as the bow lowered. “Justice doesn’t demand that she suffers. Don’t do this matthew. This isn’t us.”
Matthew nodded his head. It felt strange hearing his name, his human name. He turned his head once more. With his human memories back it felt strange to have the equine head as he looked to Shrian. He spoke in Equestrian, bold and commanding. “Get up. You are too much of a coward to deserve this. We will teach you true honor, true courage. We will not kill you until you gain true strength. Strength to follow your heart. To follow your moral compass ... once you have one.” He looked to Grif. “I shall not grant you the coward’s path.” Pensword looked almost relieved at finding a loophole for the justice he had placed on this Gryphoness. He saw that she had placed curved metal caps on her talons to prevent herself from hurting anything that came. She slowly rose to her feet and bowed her head in sorrow.
The male Gryphon smiled before the warring shades of his eye’s darkened once more and the smile twisted into a grimace. “If that is your command.” Grif was back in control.
“It is, Grif. Teach her to be another means to get back to the Emperor. You want to make him suffer, yes? Then teach a female to be an equal at your side.” He paused and looked back at Shrian. She stood, unmoving, bewildered from the gaze that Grif was giving her.
“If that is your will,” Grif set the bow down. “Then I will follow it. At least until she inevitably betrays us. Then her head shall be mine.”
“At least then she will die with a warrior's honor,” Pensword replied. He paused and turned his head as he realized something. “Grif. Do my eyes deceive me? I certainly hope you are seeing what I am seeing. Else we have lost a friend in battle.”
Grif moved to approach the figure. “Greetings, Lord Hammer Strike. As you willed, I have aided Pensword in his taking of the fort and the pass.” The gryphon said.
“Good, good. So…” He turned to Shrial. “Who is this?”
“A Warrior who does not deserve death. She shall be taught what true strength and honor is from one who practices it daily. You taught Grif. Now you and he can teach another.”
Shrian stared in horror and promptly bowed low to Lord Hammer Strike. “Is .. is this what Ponies do for nobility?” She asked, missing the sly grin between Grif and Pensword.
“Yes. But I do not want you to do that.” Hammer Strike answered. “Stand.”
She slowly did so. “Uh… Milord, I am Shrian. I am clanless. If thou wishest, I can take your clan name and become a defender of the same. I,” She blinked owlishly in fear. “I do not know what I would do if I was left clanless.”
“I shall think on that.” He responded, assessing her with his calm gaze.
“No.” There was the same voice Pensword recognised from earlier. “You captured her father, but her capture was mine.” The gryphon seemed to be struggling with his words. “I claim the right of reformation. I claim the right to responsibility for the name. But I also have the right to change it and to here and now sever its ties. From here on out, let Bloodfeather be Bladefeather. By the winds, not even the emperor can strip me of this right.” A look of horror stood on Grif’s face as he forced the words from his mouth. It would be almost comical if it weren’t so serious.
“Okay then.” Hammer Strike shrugged.
Pensword looked to the two Gryphons and wondered if this would end well, or in disaster. No matter what, Grif had a clan now. Pensword hid a smile as he turned around before he found himself tackled from the air by a blue blur. He suddenly found himself in an iron embrace as a very familiar voice whispered in his ear.
“I’m sorry I’m late,” she told him. “Traffic was horrible.”
Pensword laughed and grimaced at the same time. “Contractions” He shook his head, smiling like a fool before furrowing his brow. “What traffic?” he asked with worry as she pulled his helmet off and her own with it as she kissed him passionately on the cheek. “I am so happy you are still in the flesh, Lunar Fang,” he said, laughing in joy.
“Are we interrupting?” Princess Luna asked as she materialized out of the shadows. “We were led to believe such actions are best saved until after the wedding is finished.” She smiled goodnaturedly. “And a wedding on the tail of such a victory seems to be the very best and appropriate of celebrations.”
Pensword and Lunar Fang quickly moved to stand at attention. And yet, they still could not stop smiling like fools. “Well, only if Lunar Fang’s clan accepts my Dowery of an Outpost.” He responded with a chuckle. He paused and looked at his future mate. “We are getting married. I was afraid you would be a ghost the next time we met.”
“Oh, come now. I’m not worth that much,” Lunar Fang flushed. “A small encampment at most.”
Pensword just smiled even more. “Wait till I tell you the story a friend of mine told me about, of one Johnny Lingo.” He looked at her with shining eyes.
Grif had spent the last three hours in a locked room yelling at himself. The troops made sure to keep their distance, questioning his sanity. To those who were brave enough to approach the door, it sounded as though a full blown argument were in swing. When it ended, the gryphon had exited the room, looking exhausted and a little battered, but more peaceful then when he had entered.
He looked Shrial’s gear over with what little was left of her father’s gear that pensword had turned to his custody. Grif burned anything holding either the emperor's seal or that of the Bloodfeathers.
Shrial kept her eyes to the ground. A myriad of fears and thoughts of what this strange gryphon would do to her raced through her head at the speed of a mighty headwind. Grif had had her brought to him earlier and asked numerous questions regarding her personal training, what weapons she had been taught to wield and most importantly, what animals she had hunted.
Grif had considered simply removing her primary feathers and grounding her at first, but he did not want to risk another outburst by his… softer side. He had already spared that female’s life and given her a name to take her clan’s place in the world. And even more frustrating, he had taken her in under that name, adopting her to himself. Like it or not, he was now honor bound to protect and train her to live by that name. How things would go between the two was still very much left to the future.
“Wh-what is your will…. clan leader?” Shrial asked, her voice quivering.
“Okay, ground rules: first off, you will refer to me as Grif, or sir, but never clan leader. Understand?” He asked. Shrial nodded. “Lift your head! You are to be a warrior. As such, you must have courage in all things. Lift your head and look me in the eyes.” Shrial managed to lift her head, but she couldn’t maintain eye contact for more than a few seconds, trembling violently. Grif sighed. It was a start at least.
“Tomorrow the Thestral mares will begin hunting for the wedding feast. You will accompany them. Learn from them. And for your own sake, be polite. The Thestrals have more reason to hate you than I do and they do not need to be offended. When you return you will report to Lord Hammer Strike for measuring. You have nothing to fear from him. Probably less than anyone else in this base at the moment. When this is done you must come straight to me. Do not so much as stop to rest until you are back with me or your life could be forfeit. I will have more for you to do then. Is this understood?” Grif asked.
Shrian nodded slowly. “Am I to be a slave then?” she asked.
“I do not believe in slaves,” Grif answered. “You will be learning from me. As such, you will be treated as a page or an apprentice for now. You will sleep in the anti-chamber that is connected to my own room, just as a servant would. You must do as commanded by those who are in command until such a time as we may begin to decide if you are worthy of our trust or not. You will not be treated as a Gryphon captive from another race nor a warring clan. I will be keeping your weapons save for your hunting bow until I decide that you will need them. Now go to your room. You will be called if you are needed.”
Grif turned to his writing desk as the Gryphoness left the room. Taking a nearby seal braking knife, the gryphon nicked his claw and let a drop of blood fall into his inkpot. Mixing the ink and blood together liberally, he dipped a quill into it and unrolled a fresh piece of parchment. A new clan meant a new symbol. What was his to be?”
Princess Celestia sat at her desk in Castle Unity. Around her and, stacked in pyramids, scrolls from the different fronts waited to be read. She slowly lowered the scroll from her sister stating that she had met up with Hammer Strike and Lunar Fang. It felt so strange that her sister had taken such a liking to the Thestrals. She hoped they would not corrupt her into giving in to her battle lusts. Luna already had too much fun on the battlefield as things stood. She paused her thinking as she lifted another scroll from the incoming mail and looked happily. With a flick of her magic she broke the seal and began to read over the letter.
We have driven the enemy from this region. They have split into two forces, the first heading into the north and snow of the Crystal Empire. I have already sent a letter to inform the Queen to send forces to hunt for them. The other force, consisting of a broken five hundred Gryphons, are routing back to Fort Triumph. What are your orders? Included with this scroll are the after action reports of our forces and the battles and counterattacks taken by both sides of the conflict.
Commandant Supreme Sunrise
Postscript: Colonel Hurricane was an amazing asset and I hereby submit his name for consideration as Commander of Equestrian Forces. I have also heard of the plan being cooked up by both Hurricanes to adopt Pensword. I hereby place my name into the plot as well. He deserves it.
Princess Celestia placed the rerolled scroll into the “read” pile before pulling three more scrolls from the shelf behind her. Levitating them to her desk, she unrolled the three scrolls and looked at them, smiling. She pulled out three blank pieces of parchment and two more quill pens. For extra security, she cast a silencing spell on her door and windows.
“To the leaders of this plot,” She said aloud, her pen recording her words. “While I commend you on using your clout for something interesting, I must add my own two bits.” She smirked as she looked to the window gazing at the horizon. It had been a few decades since she had joined in on a plot not of her own making.
She quickly finished the letters. Rolling them up, she stamped her seal upon them and sent them off. Things were about to get very interesting in the house of nobles. She looked to the shelves of her study and pulled another item off the bookshelf: her own journal. While there was the joint journal for her sister and her in the private room in the library, both had their own journals to write their own thoughts and secrets. She took a quill and began to write as she looked out into the gardens. She could see a rainbow in the distance from her window. “Please, be safe out there, Luna,” She whispered.
She closed the journal after the ink had dried. A knock came soon after from the servant’s door. “Yes?” She asked as she walked to her desk.
“Missive from Major Pensword,” A female unicorn of blue coat and white with yellow highlights mane and tail spoke as the door opened. “The Fort appears to be taken.” She held out a scroll for Celestia to take in her magic. Once Celestia’s magic took control of the scroll the servant turned around and started to walk away. “Shall I start celebration preparations for the Castle?” She asked.
“Of, of course.” Princess Celestia responded out of habit, as she studied the back of the servant, how did she knew without the scroll being opened the success of the mission. She looked down and chuckled, “Pensword, you sure are bold in your statements. There on the sealed scroll lay a red feather, stuck to the parchment by the wax seal of what had to be the family emblem of the Commander for the Fortress. She smiled as she sat down and opened the letter, only to frown at the end of the report. ensword. Triumph has fallen.” Celestia picked up the scroll and she figured out w“It seems that my first impression might be right on this pony. Still, a surprise for both princesses at Fort Triumph?” She stood up. “Guards, prepare my personal troops. We march to Fort Triumph immediately. They have done the impossible.” She paused and looked to another doorway. “First, we must adorn our armor.” She spoke as a grey earth pony butler with an outrageous mustache zipped in where a moment ago no pony had stood.
As dawn paled over the horizon, spilling onto Fort Triumph, the sound of distant drums echoed through the morning air, filling the fort even before the first glimpses of ponies in golden armor could be seen in the distance.
These were the royal guard: Celestia and Luna's personal elite forces. Ponies everywhere knew them by their brightly burnished golden armor and their uniform white appearance. Behind the first squad of unicorns Celestia walked at a stately trot, flanked aerially by similarly garbed units of Pegasi. Earth ponies took up the rear, keeping an eye out for any threat that may come from behind as they rolled towards the fort.
Pensword looked out over the ramparts, soon realizing that the sound was not an enemy, but rather, Celestia. “Unbar the gates! Double the aerial guards!” he ordered. “Gryphon Slayers: Bring out all captured enemy colors! Clans: Fall in with Princess Luna for her presentation!” He ordered with joy. A jolt of excitement ran through him from the tip of muzzle to edge of his tailbone, quivering at last into the ground through his four hooves. “Prepare the royal entryway and send a flyer to lead Princess Celestia to Triumph Gate!” Pensword continued barking orders, his voice giddy, but commanding.
“Private Blueblood: Fetch me the rest of my battle armor. Lord Hammer Strike should have it finished. I shall meet the Princess as a warrior.” He liked this Blueblood a lot better than the Blueblood house of the future. He knew this was where the Blueblood’s wealth and power started.
It took a full hour for celestia to arrive and pensword and everyone else to be ready to receive her. The princess strolled into fort triumph at a carefully measured and dignified pace. “So, for the first time, Equestria controls the mountain pass.” she smiled down at pensword “I must admit, I did doubt you.”
Pensword smirked. “Oh, the amazing things ponies can do when you just say ‘do this’ and leave it to their imagination.” He quoted a phrase from Clover the Clever. “Still, I present this fortress as a symbol of Equestria’s might to the Diarchy of the Moon and Sun.”
Celestia’s smile never faltered, though she did remain silent for a time. “A most generous gift. But my sister and I believe it would be better if you were to stay in command of this fortress until our present … disagreement with Gryphonia is past.”
“As you command,” He replied. “If thou wilt follow me through the Royal concourse and to the Royal section of the Fortress, I shall fill thee in on more information, including the recaptured looted supplies from the frontier of Equestria.”
“Such formalities may be settled later,” Celestia noted. “Or was my messenger mistaken in his assertion that you were planning for your wedding?” Celestia smiled cheekily.
Pensword nodded his head, blushing furiously as they walked down the concourse to the boulevard. Statues and emblems of Gryphonia lined the path, carved deep into the stone itself. Celestia also noticed as they passed through the second gate into the Soldiers quarters they were suddenly surrounded by emblems, symbols of captured shields, colors, flags, and banners of all sorts. It looked like they had three whole armies worth of flags. “Well yes, I am planning, or rather, about ready, to implement the action.”
Soon after, Celestia saw her sister for the first time since she had left as the new leader of the Thestrals. She was surrounded by her own royal guards, yet she could detect a few subtle changes. The Thestrals were already in her inner circle of guards and the armor and uniforms that had once been a pure white had now become a little grey. While Grey was her sister’s prefered choice, it appeared her magic was influencing her guards to all have tufted ears now. What surprised her the most was the armor her sister was wearing.
Celestia’s eyes widened, but she remained steadfast, unfaltering. “Greetings, High Chieftess,” celestia nodded to luna.
Luna smiled and bounded to her sister. “Sister!” She cried ecstatically as she wrapped her forelegs around her Celestia’s neck and gave her a hug, something she would normally do only in private. “We have so much to tell thee.” Luna saw her sister’s raised brow and immediately moved to answer. “In settings like this, Thestrals use family names for the most part. So from now on, I will call thee sister in moments like this.”
Celestia stiffened briefly before melting into the hug. “It is good to see you are safe ... Sister.” she responded. It felt surprisingly more intimate than previous greetings they had used in public.
Luna could feel the recoil. “Did, Did we harm thee with our armor?” She asked. “We are still getting used to it. What dost thou think of it?” She asked her sister with joy as she pranced around to show off the handiwork. “Hammer Strike crafted it for us as a symbol of our power as High Chieftess.” She paused to look at her sister. “How goes the progress of the laws and bills to grant full citizenship to the Thestral Tribes?”
“it is… quite something, Luna,” celestia responded. “Possibly some of lord Hammer Strike’s most artistic work. As for the laws and bills, I have been pushing them through. The house of lords is not making things easy for me at the moment, however.”
“If they have not made anything by war’s end I shall use my right as a Princess to grant them their rights as citizens of Equestria.” She smiled. “Yes, I do agree. I heard he broke several anvils to make this armor. I do so intend on wearing this set to the wedding.”
“I see. Is that traditional?” celestia asked.
“Of course. Wear your best armor and one of your best weapons as well.” She replied happily. “Thestrals attend these ceremonies armed and armored in case another clan or tribe wishes to disrupt the wedding.” She replied as she fell in step with her sister. Pensword lay sandwiched between the two, terribly uncomfortable, but unable to leave. An almost night and day image seemed to form around the entourage: Luna’s guards on her Right, Celestia’s guards on her left. “Also, Sister dear, As High Chiefess it is my duty as the highest ranking attending leader of the Thestral’s, well, it is we who must wed the two.” She looked to Pensword. “Under moonlight if possible.”
“My, thats…” celestia paused “This is to be your first wedding ceremony is it not?”
Her sister nodded her head. “Yes, so we need to have some pointers while we prepare for the wedding.”
“Yes, but first, maybe you should tell me what is different about the thestral weddings.”
The great hall was lined with chatting ponies and Thestrals as they waited for the proceedings to begin. The wedding was rather simple in and of itself. The ceremony would take place, followed by a private hunt between the couple. When they returned with their quarry, they would share it together, thus sealing the pact, no matter how long it took. One recorded wedding had been extended for close to two weeks before the couple returned. Finally, there would be a massive feast and the traditional exchange of well wishing and gifts to the newlyweds.
Hammer Strike stood off to the side wearing his typical blue overcoat with its gold trim around the edge and armed with his great sword. He was keeping to himself for the moment, not in the sense of avoiding others, but rather, not engaging in conversation.
The chiefs were lined against the back wall as Luna stood on a platform where a throne would normally have been. Said throne had been forcibly removed and put into storage.
In front of Luna, Grif and Pensword stood. The Gryphon was constantly attempting to calm the obviously anxious Thestral as he attempted to adjust the straps of his armor one last time, or reconsidered his decision to wear this particular helmet.
“Calm down, would you? Nothing’s going to go wrong.” Grif sighed, putting Pensword’s hoof on the floor… again.
“Don’t say that!” He yelped before blinking and rearing his head back. “Do not say that. You want to jinx it?” He shook a little. “Ah, you, Contraction. Lazy contractions.” Pensword’s eye twitched as he jerked his head.
“Pensword,” Grif said, grasping the pony’s shoulders and forcing him to look into his eyes. “should the Colossus of Rhodes itself tear the roof away and try to disrupt your wedding, I will remove it’s head myself. If Lord Tirek rises from tartarus to stop your union, I will beat him to a bloody pulp. You are within the most secure fort in 60 leagues with all of the most powerful figures in a country’s span surrounding you. Your wedding will be fine!”
Pensword nodded his head, still fidgeting. “I should have worn my dress helm.” He muttered. “I, I,” he chuckled. “I am getting married.” He found that he could not wipe the big, goofy grin off his muzzle no matter how hard he tried.
“Yes, you are getting married. Now take a deep breath and calm down. If she see’s you’re nervous, she will be nervous. And I can barely handle a nervous you at this wedding,” grif said. “Please. For my sake, focus on the good. No looking back, alright?”
Pensword slowly nodded his head and began to take a few deep breaths to calm his nerves. He looked around the hall and found himself realizing that in his own eyes and mind this was going to be a perfect wedding. He was not going to jinx it. Still, he couldn’t help but smile even more as his ears began to pick up the sounds of hoofsteps. He began to scan the crowd to take his mind off the butterflies in his stomach as his heart rate skyrocketed.
The atmosphere could best be described as a happy confusion. The ponies present could not fully understand why they were armoured and armed at a wedding. The stark look of the hall did not do much to add the flair of festivity as the columns and walls were all festooned with seals, sigils, and colors of various fallen troops. Still, they had struck many victories for equestria in the last month and a celebration was in order no matter how strange it may seem to be. What confused the ponies most, however, was the hour that they were performing the ceremony. It was well into the first watch and some figured that this wedding would extend into the second watch of the night. And to make it even more confusing, Princess Luna had risen a full moon tonight, far ahead of schedule. The pale white light streamed through the stark windows, adding an element of serenity and beauty to the stark and uninviting hall. Luna, herself, stood in her Ursa Major armor shining like a mother of pearl as the moon’s rays reflected off of the armor, her cloak billowing as its constellations danced in a drafty breeze. This was part of the atmosphere. For the first time, Princess Luna was leading this ceremony.
The conversation cut off as the rhythmic pounding of drums echoed through the hall. Thestrals parted and turned to look towards the entrance. The ponies followed suit, unsure of what was expected of them. Lunar Fang stood at the entrance dressed in full battle armor. It had been repaired and polished to a shine. With as much pride as she could muster and a bucket full of nerves to top it off, she began her walk down the aisle.
Pensword smiled even more. All he could think, all he could feel, all he could know at that moment was that she was there, and she was beautiful. She was going to be his. And he was going to be hers. He settled down as he finally laid eyes on Lunar Fang and the procession behind her.
The armed mares of the lion tribe followed Lunar Fang at a measured pace. With every few steps they banged the spears they held against a small shield of polished ebony. The procession reached the front with a heavy metallic note ringing in the air as all fell to silence. Lunar Fang stood happily before pensword. “Here I stand before you.” she beamed at him. “Just as I used to dream about.”
“Here I stand before you as well.” Pensword muttered, bowing his head a little and directing the full force of his smile at her. “Just as I wanted, but feared would never happen.” He leaned in and spoke something to her in Dragonic. “My Thestral.”
“My human,” Lunar Fang responded in kind. The two ignored the look of confusion that crossed Luna’s face. A moment later it was gone, having vanished as quickly as it appeared.
“Though,” he whispered and closed his eyes, wishing for Lunar Fang to see what he hoped he could see. “I kind of hoped that the room would have been a little more crowded.”
“Friends.” Luna spoke, clearing her throat. “Brothers born in battle and in life. Family here and past.” Luna turned her gaze to an empty area of the room. Celestia, dressed in armor that shone like the very sun she embodied, stood bearing a longsword that glowed with an internal fire. Following her sister’s gaze, she noticed the many figures gathered in the space. Though she could not see them in the detail Luna seemed to be able to make out, she had a pretty good idea who they were. “We welcome you from the places beyond to stand witness to this grand event. We thank those of you who fell in battle for thine sacrifice to pony kind, and for those lost in tragedy, we pray thou wilt forgive us and that thou hast found a better place.”
“We have not been chieftess very long, but in the time we have, we have noticed that Thestrals consider all to be their family. Every individual is amongst the family in some way. When these join together to find love, it is said that the moon herself rejoices in their bond. Today, we gather to celebrate two who have found this bond. Major Lunar Fang of the Southern Lion Tribe of the Lion Clan has accepted the heart of…” Lunas eyes drifted to Celestia, who, with a sly smile, nodded. “Commander Moonkissed Pensword Hurricane of the Northern Bear Clan. Last of the line of pen.” she smiled “Though one can hope they shall soon have that rectified.” Laughter echoed across the hall.
Pensword stood rock still, his mind slowly grinding through the list of names and titles. He blinked a few times, but was happy to report to later generations that he maintained a military bearing that would have made his old friends from the United States Army proud.
The crowd eventually quieted down again, showing the respect due to the place and time. Many of them felt there would be time afterwards to figure out what had just happened. Did their Princesses pull something on them?
“We gather here to recognise the forming of this bond, the first marriage between the Southern Lion and Northern Bear in collective memory. It seems necessary in every culture with weddings, but we must now open the floor to any party that doth protest this union. Speak now, or be silenced under the moon.”
Grif turned and faced the crowd. “If any wish to speak, know that they not only challenge Pensword to battle, but my clan as well.” He barely finished speaking before Pensword’s grandmother stepped from her place of honor and turned. “As well as the Dream Clan.” She spoke as a selection of warriors stepped forward to join her.
From the other side of the aisle, Piercing Roar stepped forward. “As leader of my own clan, I declare that any who speak against this union speaks against the Lion Clan.” She then held out a collection of medallions. “As speaker of the Lion Tribe and all clans under the tribe, I solemnly proclaim you shall challenge the entire Lion Tribe as well.”
Over the next several minutes many ponies from Pensword’s training days took the time to come forward and speak their “and me as wells” and “Me toos.” Finally, when all the uproar died down, the hall stood devoid of sound, giving any “brave objector” his chance. None dared to speak. If anything, a few of the Pegasi in the room appeared to be taking notes for their own ceremony. After three minutes of silence, High Chiefess Luna spoke again.
“Then we shall commit the oath that is always committed between two when they are joined.” Luna spoke, carefully recalling the lines taught to her only recently. “Pensword, Bear of the North, would you commit your strength to her?” luna asked.
“I do commit.” Pensword responded.
“Would you stand beside her in a charge?”
“I would.” Pensword responded, his voice sounding like the rumble of thunder.
“And should death come needing a new friend, would you follow him so that she might stay?”
“I would.” Pensword’s voice hitched. He took a steadying breath and let it out slowly. “I would.” He spoke, a little stronger.
Luna turned to Lunar Fang. “And you, Lunar Fang? Will you commit your strength to him?” she asked.
“As long as there is strength in my wings and in my bones.” She responded solemnly.
“And would you stand beside him in a charge?”
“I would charge with him, step for step.”
“And should death come needing a new friend, would you follow him so that he might stay?”
“I would.” She replied, looking at Luna. “However, I would ask if I could stand and be a guardian spirit. Pensword has suffered enough loss in his life.”
Luna nodded. “We can see much love between the two of you. And we see no reason to stand between you. If there are no objections amongst the chiefs,” she turned to look at said Thestrals, who simply nodded their consent. Then, in a manner quite uncharacteristic of the princess, Luna spoke in the first person. “Under the moon and beneath the stars, I, in my power, do hereby name thee mare and colt. You may kiss the bride.”
Pensword blinked. Smiling with tears in his eyes, he pulled her into his hooves and kissed her deeply on the muzzle. Lunar Fang did not fight, nor did she struggle as she returned the kiss with the same passion that Pensword gave to her. At that moment, both had found true peace and joy. Pure bliss.
“It is my honor both as high chieftess of the thestrals and as Princess Luna of Equestria to announce the new couple.” She spread her wings over them as the sound of stomping hooves and cheers echoed through the hall.
The two only looked to the crowd, still kissing before they finally parted. They looked happy and Pensword felt something else. He began to laugh as a memory from the past surfaced when he woke up after she had removed his armor so long ago. He just smiled and laughed as something his doctors on earth told him came back. “You will be lying in a corner in pain, bemoaning your fate.” he spoke in Draconian. “Now look at me.” He looked to Lunar Fang, no, at Moonshade, and leaned in to give her another kiss. She gladly reciprocated.
Grif smiled, drawing his swords in a salute to the new couple. “It’s about time.” He laughed under his breath. In the gallery in unity, a single portrait glowed as the image morphed from a beautiful sunset to the painting of what for many years would be called the weirdest wedding party in history, lovingly rendered with the utmost care under the artist’s brush. While a painting of squiggles and lines in the caves of Fort Triumph faded, the painting of Pensword and Lunar Fang appeared, the same painting that Hammer Strike would see many years in the future, held in a private gallery.
What came next surprised the non thestrals as the bride and groom quickly left the room. Some Thestral Guards stood at the doors leading to the banquet hall. A confused Unicorn spoke up. Private Blueblood, actually. “Uh, is there something we are missing? When will the reception start?”
“The bride and groom must hunt their own main course,” Piercing roar explained. “Until they return with their kill, the reception will have to wait.”
Private Blueblood just nodded his head and turned around to convey the news to the other soldiers and a few of the nobles that had come with Princess Celestia. Nobles who were at this very moment, cornering the Solar Princess to find out just what had happened. Hammer Strike stood nearby as a noble he knew to be Duke Old Writ was able to get next to the Princess.
“Now.” Old Write spoke to the Princess. “What is all this business about making Pensword a commander? I understand the adoption into House Hurricane. The rumors say that he has become a rising star in their eyes what with being an orphan from the war. Still, have you thought of how to get around the fact that Commander rank needs to be given to a landed noble? Granted, he is a noble now, but as it stands, he has yet to hold any land.” Old Writ’s voice showed concern and worry. “While I understand the need to change things over time, the other nobles are a little more prone to keeping the old ways alive.”
Luna smiled “It is funny you should mention the old ways, Old Writ. Tell me, what is the standard royal gift to a newly married officer?”
Old Writ smiled slyly as he answered the question, a merry twinkle dancing in his ancient eyes. “Well, the old way of doing things, especially in the time of the first Commander Hurricane, was to give a grant of land. Sometimes a small island off the coast, other times an entire tract of land. It all depends on the giver.” He raised an eyebrow. “Have you thought of a way to reign in Promethain?” He asked with a chuckle.
“If he does not wish to have further scrutiny from the crown with regards to his cane shipments from the southern islands, I think he will back off,” Luna said “I am sure he cannot afford the taxes he has been dodging for the last four years.”
“A most astute observation. Does the Commander,” he smiled as he mentioned the rank, “know the land grants he is to be given? Or shall that come at the reception?” He looked to the wall and shook his head. “I remember being told when this was built right before the Discordian age. To think that ponies now stand in halls that were never built for us.”
“Best not forget those that helped us to win it,” Luna responded. “It is my understanding, Old Writ, that you, yourself, have a few thestrals in your dungeon over supposed ‘poaching’ charges. I do hope this misunderstanding can be cleared up easily.”
Old Writ laughed nervously. “Well, yes. I think that can be cleared up. They have actually become masters of my forest to keep other poachers and vagabonds off the land. Family excluded, of course.” he looked hopeful.
“And in return you will allow them to continue to hunt, I trust?” luna asked “They have hunted that land for longer than I am old.”
“Well what does a master of the forest do?” Old Writ asked with a nervous laugh. “They maintain the health of the forest. If it is hunting that helps it, hunting shall be allowed.” Old Writ shook his head. “I only wish I could live another generation to see how this will pan out.”
“Do not despair so much in that,” luna said sadly. “Immortality is not so glorious as the songs paint it to be.”
“Very true, yet… thou canst do so much more than any mortal. Thou art able to lead a nation with a goal and work to see it realized.” He smiled and bowed as he stepped away. “I am sorry, but I must settle down. I am not as young as I used to be.”
The beating of drums began to sound and the non Thestrals began to look around. Private Blueblood looked to a Thestral mare at his side. “Question: if you don’t mind the interruption, what do the drums mean?”
“An army marches to drums. A fishing boat rows to a drum. Drums help us to feel the beat of life. Our very hearts beat as a drum does. We use the drum to honor the rhythm of the world,” she explained.
“Most interesting. So what do these drums mean specifically, if you can tell me?” Private Blueblood muttered to himself and to the Mare next to him. “Private Noble Blueblood.” he held out a hoof for a hoof bump.
“I am Lance Thrust,” she responded, returning the bump. “I saw you in battle. You fought bravely,” she nodded with respect. “As i said before, the heart beats as a drum does. And love is a matter of the heart. By playing these drums we show that our hearts beat with theirs.”
“Ah.” Private Blueblood replied, nodding his head in understanding. “Well, I must say this was a wonderful ceremony. It really opened my eyes.” He looked to another part of the hallway before turning back nervously. “Um ... May I?” He asked, gesturing with his hoof to her drum.
The thestral smiled “It is pleasant to see a pony so interested in our ways.” She handed him the drum. “Please.”
He took it tenderly and slowly began to tap out a beat. Taking another stick from nearby, Lance Thrust began to play as well, keeping the beat with him and offering an odd counter rhythm. The two looked at each, eyes locking as each played the rhythm of life, the tempo of their hearts. Princess Luna smiled cryptically as she saw what hopefully would be the start of a mixing of the tribes together by marriage. Another hundred years and the Thestrals would be considered a part of Equestrian culture, or so she hoped.
Pensword looked to his future mate. They dared not move as their ears swiveled and turned to take in the sounds. Both turned and raised their spears as they heard a sudden noise from behind. A Mountain Lion tried to leap at them from the rocky ledge above, only to find itself falling upon the spears of its intended prey. The spears had not been something the Mountain Lion expected to encounter.
“Why,” Pensword asked as he looked at the body, “does it seem that I always kill predators in self defense? You know how dangerous a Mountain Lion is, dear?”
“Not as dangerous as a manticore, but considerably more dangerous than a single timberwolf,” she responded. “The meat is edible, however, so i see no reason not to bring this back”
Pensword smiled and looked to the moon. “Thankfully, the guests did not have to wait too long this time. It is lucky we found prey at all. I thought for sure that the siege would have driven them away from this place and we would have had to travel outside of the Valley.
“You think we can fly with the weight between us?” Lunar Fang asked.
“We can try, lending each other our strength. Somehow I have a feeling that doing so would create an interesting experience. Still, only one way to see.” They began to tie up the beast as Pensword paused. “Dear?” he smiled at the term. She was his, and he was hers. “Can we make a rug out of this Mountain Lion? We are taking it with us after all, and if you don’t mind, I would like to use it to decorate our joint quarters back in the future.”
“I think that would be a pleasant memory of this.” She smiled. Pensword smiled in return as the two rose into the air and began to flap and fly back to the Fortress with their kill. It was more like a falling glide most of the time but still they were able to fly over the ramparts and a part of the garden where Pensword had buried the last Bloodfeather in a corner of a grove of trees. He could see the fresh dirt still there. They were quick to land on the ramparts of the second wall.
As they re-entered the fort, the mountain lion was taken from them to be cleaned and prepared while the guests were informed of their return. A cheer erupted as the banquet hall was opened and the guests came pouring in.
The ponies and thestrals were seated for the most part, apart from one another. However, there were a few noted cases of ponies sitting amongst the thestrals or thestrals sitting amongst ponies. The head table carved from solid oak, shaped more like a ring, but possessing no hollow center. Grif seemed to be eyeing the details suspiciously, recognition firing in his eyes.
“Pensword,” he spoke as he sat on the pegasus’ left. “Do you know what this is?”
“Reminds me of the Round Table from King Arthur.” Pensword responded, speaking in Draconian.
“That’s cause it is!” Grif said “Or at least some sort of parallel to it.” Grif traced it with his eye’s. Taze was a rather intense arthurian back home and to see something like this was incredible to him.
“What’s it doing in a Gryphon Fortress?” he asked his friend as they waited for the meal to be brought out. “How did it get here? Why was it made if it was made?” He looked at the table. “I wonder who gets this fortress after the war.” He muttered the last sentence to himself.
“Screw that noise,” grif responded in draconic. “I’m claiming this baby as a gryphon relic.”
Horderves where served moments later to the tables along with a variety of drinks. Grif happily buried his beak in a flagon of raspberry punch as the ponies happily chatted. various soldiers and thestrals came to wish the new couple good will.
“Oh,” grif said, pulling something out of his bags. “I’m sure you heard that Bloodfeather’s things were sent to me. And I know you’ve admired my bow for a while. So I made some adjustments to the design.” Grif offered the bow to Pensword. “My wedding gift to you.”
Pensword looked to the bow and looked to his future mate. “As long as thou will teach Lunar Fang as well as I.” He looked to his friend. An enemy almost, and a fellow person looking for justice over what they saw already. “Thank you.” He finished as he raised his own goblet to his friend in a toast.
“Ahem.” Celestia cleared her throat as she and Luna stood fully, causing the entire hall to fall silent. “As princess of equestria, let me be the first to publicly offer my congratulations to you, Commander Pensword,” she said. “From what Luna tells me, it is a shared custom between our cultures to extend a gift to the couple. So, before we start the meal, Luna and I wish to extend our gift.” She levitated a small chest a guard had brought in with her magic. “If you would come here, please.”
Pensword looked to the Princesses and to Lunar Fang, then leaned in to kiss her cheek before standing up and slowly stepping towards the two Princesses. His hooves echoed in the silence as they clopped on the stone floor till he stood in front of Princess Celestia and High Chiefess Luna. He wondered what she would say upon their return and his changed attitude with her, like calling her Chieftess instead of Princess.
“We know thou still weepest bitterly over thy loss,” Luna spoke, carefully controlling her Canterlot voice. “But today is a happy time. So we will be brief. It is a tradition amongst us to give our officers a grant of land as a gift during such times.With this tradition in mind, we have carefully deliberated, and at last, decided which land to gift to thee,” Luna explained as Celestia opened the chest, revealing a royal scroll. Luna grasped it in her magic and floated it to Pensword. “We hope this gift pleases you.”
Commander Pensword raised an eyebrow as he took the scroll and with a nod from Princess Celestia, he opened it for all to see. He read over it carefully to glean as much information from it as possible. His eyes stopped as he realized just what the contents held. He stared, eyes frozen on the scroll for a long, long time. After waiting a full minute in silence. Pensword finally looked up, blinking back tears. “Thank you,” He croaked out before moving to the table where Lunar Fang took the scroll. She looked it over, eyes widening before she hugged him with a wing. Pensword looked to Grif and nodded his head, indicating his ascent to read the scroll as well. He leaned into his wife’s side and let the silent tears drop. And yet it was a good kind of cry. It felt like, at last, something was healing. “Home,” he whispered. “We’ll need to build something like Normandy. To honor all the dead.” He sighed and closed his eyes, looking peaceful for the first time since he lost his village.
Grif read the scroll over and nodded. It fit well in his eyes. Hopefully now the path to healing could come more easily for Pensword. Grif slowly rolled the scroll back up and handed it back to his friend.
Pensword gently took the scroll and placed it next to him as some of the Thestrals began to place the start of the meal in front of the guests. It was a dish of sliced fruits to tide them over for the main course. Pensword paused and looked to Celestia. He wondered how Princess Celestia would react to the scene of her sister eating meat with the Thestrals. He blinked and shook his head, feeling a little melancholy that Luna’s plans would be placed on hold for a thousand years. He smiled and nodded to another table. His Gryphon Slayers cheered as they raised their mugs and tankards in a toast to Lunar Fang and him.
Finally the cooks began wheeling out the trays of food. Different types of roasted, boiled, braised and fried meats were laid out over the Thestral tables amongst smaller trays of vegetables and fruits while significantly larger trays of said fruits and vegetables found their way to the pony tables. At the head table the trays seemed spread out in no particular order.
Grif smiled as he took a deep breath, letting the scent wash over him. “So it was a mountain lion was it?” he asked.
“Yeah.” Pensword muttered. “Seems my luck of having predators attacking me is holding true.” He looked to his wife. “What has it been? A Mad Bear? A Bear turning into an Ursa Minor? Now a Mountain Lion? When will nature learn that I can fight back a lot more than in the past?” He chuckled. The two Thestrals took a small forkful of meat and plopped it into each others mouths from their shared kill.
“Well, you do smell like a pony,” grif pointed out. “Thestrals smell like danger, blood, sweat, hunger. It’s a scent most predators don’t go for, but you, you're just a pony,” grif pointed out as he took a chunk of bear meat from another tray.
Grif saw the feathers bristling out of the corner of his eyes . “I am not just a pony. I am a combination of Pony and Thestral. You think a pony can eat meat?” he growled at his friend. He turned his head and returned to eating the meal with his wife and future mate.
“He is right, though,” lunar fang said in a hushed tone. “You smell more like a pony.”
Pensword bowed his head in defeat. “Well, I guess it will be a mistake that those that prey on me will only make once.” He chuckled a little, looking again at the table to catch them placing a plate of Vampire Fruit Bat in front of Princess Luna and a bowl of fancy looking salad in front of Princess Celestia. He also noticed that the others had waited for both Lunar Fang and himself to eat before they did. While the Thestrals were now waiting for one more to eat first. Pensword decided to watch what might happen. His ears easily picked up the conversation.
“Um, sister … I think you were given the wrong plate,” celestia noted. Luna only turned to face her sister and smiled a little. Just enough for her sister to see her mouth. Celestia stiffened “Sister … when did you start to… I mean, when did you…?” she stopped talking a moment to regain her composure. “I was lead to believe we were vegetarians.”
“Would it be wise for a vegetarian to lead a society of hunters?” She looked to the plate. “It also feels right. As if I found a part of us that was not yet known. Thou controlest the sun and the light. We are the night. And night is the time of hunting.” She paused and picked up a fork. “It was the right thing to do, Sister. For the Thestrals. To show that we were not being political in our dealings, but genuinely concerned for their well being once we learned the injustice given them.” She looked around the table. “But that is conversation which is not wise to be discussed during a time of celebration of a wedding, when life’s cycle might begin again.”
“Very well, sister. But we will speak of this,” celestia said, turning back to her plate. Her expression had become unreadable. Luna began to use her fork to eat the meaty meal, only nodding her head to show acknowledgement to what her sister had said. Pensword heard no more as another friend came to his side to talk and congratulate him.
Roughly an hour later the cooks entered once again, this time they carried sweet fruits, cookies, and other dainties that the guests could eat at their leisure. The two chefs of the night wheeled in the cake on a separate trolley all of its own.
The cake stood proudly, a decadent masterpiece staked five sections high. It had been painstakingly decorated with black, dark grey and dark blue frosting. Silver frosting adorned the edges all the way up to the top. Small bear paw prints circled the bottom section while the next was decorated with lion paws. This pattern repeated itself for the next sections before coming to a crescent moon lining the final layer. Two pony figures stood on top, crafted from peanut brittle. Both figures wore a chocolate armor. It was obvious the chefs had put a lot of work into such a cake.
Pensword started. “So that is what they were doing this last week.” he muttered before blinking as Grif chuckled at Pensword’s reaction as he guzzled the raspberries. “Oie, give me some of those. Don’t hog all of them.”
“I believe it’s tradition that you and your new wife cut the cake,” grif reminded Pensword. “The raspberries might be here when you get back. Anything is possible.”
Pensword blinked in shock and quickly stood. Lunar Fang smiled behind a wing at the antics. It almost felt like old times. Then the moment was broken as she felt a wing touch hers. She was soon pulled along to the cake in a manner very reminiscent of the way she used to pull him around Equestria. It would seem that the tables had turned. She smirked as Pensword tried to find a knife before looking to his squad. “Get me my Cadet blade. The dull practice one,” He ordered, only to laugh with the rest of the crowd as they produced it from under their table.
Soon Lunar Fang and Pensword stood holding the blade together. With a grin they cut a part of the bottom section into a piece that one of the chefs placed onto a plate, holding it in a hoof while the two ponies took a bite of the same piece together.
The crowd cheered loudly as they did and the chefs took over cutting of the cake. Slices were quickly passed out. Pensword and Lunar Fang returned with their own pieces after jointly finishing their shared piece to the table, feeding bites to one another. They couldn’t stop smiling.
After the meal the chieftains formally moved to present their gifts as was the custom amongst Thestrals. Pensword soon found he and lunar fang overwhelmed by things such as two finely crafted flagons made from ebony, lined with polished silver and emblazoned with Pensword’s cutie mark on the left side and Lunar Fang’s on the right. A very fine arctic fox skin banner decorated in much the same way as the flagons but with dark blue ink and painted carefully to give a photonegative design of the night sky behind the cutie marks. Matching manticore stinger pendants, and other such art’s of husbandry and craft surrounded them. Finally, only Piercing Roar remained. It was with an unusual pride that she approached the two, almost as if she knew her gift to be the finest of them all.
“And so it comes to this.” She smiled at the couple. “One broken sent to mend a rift that has existed as far as our stories will recall, the other lost to her family only to be reclaimed then lost once again, though by much happier circumstances. For the two of you, I am not so much bringing you a gift as … returning one.” she smiled, setting a fair sized wooden box before them. “I am particularly happy there was enough left for two,” she said, offering it to them.
Pensword and Lunar Fang looked at each, nodded, then moved as one to open the box. Thanks to their armor and equine strength they were easily able to pop the lid. They moved their wings to the crack and lifted the lid to see what waited within.
Inside, Pensword was greeted by a familiar fur speckled with pinpoints of light. The hide had been tanned and crafted into a set of personal cloaks. They looked as warm as they were comfortable. Silver thread had been used to sew the lining and and the lining itself was made by a cloth neither pensword nor lunar fang could properly identify. The cloaks were not overly long, ending just before the hoof, but the thick fur would keep the heat in. The internal fabric felt nice against their own fur, not abrasive at all. The collar held a set of clasps made from volcanic glass forged in the shape of a bear paw and lined with silver. Long onyx claws extended as hooks to hold the cloaks closed.
The two slowly donned their cloaks over their armor to test them out. They smiled and Pensword looked to Princess Luna, giving a small bow of his head, a warrior’s acknowledgement of being witness to one another’s triumphs. The two sat down again and smiled.
In the end, Hammer Strike moved from his spot, a wrapped package on his back. “I guess it is time for my gift?” He gave a small smile as he moved towards the two of them.
Shifting the object off his back he laid it in front of the two. “I figured you both might find some use for this. You can show it off later,” He whispered the last part so only they could hear, a mischievous glint in his eyes.
Shredding the wrapping and lifting the cover, Pensword immediately recognized his favorite weapon, a set of wing blades designed like the first set Hammer Strike had made for him in the crystal empire. This time they were crafted from a polished silver and ebony mix, the silver being used mainly for the brace and the blades made of ebony. There were two sets, one for each of them.
Pensword slowly showed Lunar Fang the gift, careful not to let anyone else see them. She smiled at the gift. “Thank you,” She whispered. She looked to Pensword, a twinkle in her eye. “I think we should retire for the evening,” She replied as she stood up.
Pensword followed and looked to Hammer Strike before realizing how it might look asking a noble to do something so mundane. He turned to look at Grif. “Would you mind terribly if you packed the gifts up for easier transport? I think we shall retire to our quarters.” It felt so strange to be saying that after all this time.
“it would be my honor.” Grif smiled, nodding his head. “You two don’t need to worry about anything else.”
Pensword and Lunar Fang smiled as they slipped away. At least they tried to. It was here that Pensword was approached by an unarmored stallion wearing a medallion of the Lion Tribe. “Yes, however a few of the Stallions of the Lion Tribe have not seen you in combat. Let us wrestle to see your fighting spirit.”
The Thestrals, to the shock of the Ponies, were actually grinning, standing up and craning their necks to get a good view as Pensword grinned. He looked to the Stallion. “Lion Paw, I shall accept your challenge. However, let us not do so inside where we might upset the meal. Will outside suit you?”
Lion Paw smiled as he moved to let Pensword pass. His squad was quick to step up beside him only to have him wave them off. “This is a tradition for the Thestrals. One of the males from the bride’s clan, or in this case, her tribe, challenges the groom to a wrestling match. It does not matter if I win or lose. It is to see the fighting spirit of the stallion. After the match Lunar Fang and I shall retire and the other Thestrals will begin their own wrestling matches after ours. I think eight of them have been looking to challenge Hammer Strike.” He chuckled as Grif overheard that last part.
“They’ll need more than that,” Grif said taking another drink of punch.
Pensword and Lunar Fang both grinned coyly at each other. They knew what the outcome would be already. “Earth Pony magic.” Pensword whispered with a smirk. He paused before smiling and leaning in to whisper to Lunar Fang’s ear. “Seems Colonel Hurricane did make it after all. I just saw him heading towards Hammer Strike.”
The wedding party entered the courtyard where Celestia once more looked totally lost. Luna smiled with joy at the prospect of showing off more of the Thestral traditions. While Pensword removed his armor and clock to fight in just his fur, Colonel Hurricane walked to Hammer Strike’s side. “So,” he began, “What was my last time on the last duel we had?” he seemed genuinely pleased at this display. “Because I wouldn’t mind trying to break that record tonight. After we are done dealing with the Thestrals challenges, of course.
“Sixty five seconds.” Hammer Strike answered. “One of the longest duels I have ever had.”
“I shall have to aim for Seventy seconds, then. I can count that as a win in my book,” Colonel Hurricane replied with a chuckle. They could not speak again as princess Luna, in full armor, stomped her hoof. The two competitors charged at each other to wrestle. It was over in less than a minute. Pensword lay pinned, still struggling.
When all was said and done, the two ponies parted ways and bumped hooves as Lion Paw spoke up. “I saw the fire and courage in your eyes. And I felt your desire to break free.” He rotated a hoof to emphasize that it might be a little sore. “You shall be a good mate for a sister of the Lion Tribe. May your night be peaceful.”
Luna boomed in her canterlot voice. “LET THE NIGHT OF FIGHTING COMMENCE!” Her voice rang through the walls as Lunar Fang and Pensword disappeared into the private areas reserved for the close officers of the rulers of Gryphonia. Luna turned to Celestia. “This allows the Thestrals to fight and also keep any peeping toms from following the lovers. Their door is to be guarded by a Thestral from their respective clans. I heard it would be his grandmother and Piercing Roar who will guard the hallway to give them privacy.”
“These Thestrals have interesting customs,” celestia noted. “It will be interesting to know how they affect Equestria’s future.”
“Agreed, Sister.” She paused and smirked. “It appears Hammer Strike shall show off tonight.” She pointed a wing to the floor where a gathering of Thestrals had surrounded the Lord. Twelve Thestrals circled the Lord, four on the side while the other eight stared him down. They cheered, egging the others on. Hammer Strike smirked.
“Come, now. All of you at once. I have been waiting for a challenge,” Hammer Strike said, his smirk rapidly widening to a grin.
The Thestrals looked at each other before their Chieftess spoke, her voice booming across the courtyard. “He is a simple Earth Pony Lord. What does he know about thestral hoof fighting?” She smiled as she egged them on. She wanted to show that not all of Equestria’s nobility would be easy pickings. Ten Thestrals decided to attack and follow the Noble’s words to come at him all at once. One second later, Ponies, Thestrals, and two Princesses were watching a very interesting sight. The twelve Thestrals combined with the other two who joined in three seconds later. The fight lasted a minute fifty. A new record for Hammer Strike. From there on, the hall broke out into uproar as ponies, pegasi, and thestrals all burst into their own wrestling matches. Many a noble looked on in horror, some screaming for mercy. Luna, Celestia, and Grif all smirked together. “This is going to be a very interesting night,” Grif said as he jumped into the fray, his eyes glinting. He couldn’t help but notice a certain Gryphoness wrestling with some Thestral mares. Though Grif would not admit it, something stirred in his chest as he watched her. He smirked as he pinned a stallion to the floor. Shrial might just turn out alright after all.
38 - I’ll Huff and I’ll Puff and I’ll Burn Your House Down!
Extended Holiday Chp 38: I’ll Huff and I’ll Puff and I’ll Burn Your House Down! Act 4
“Lieutenant Sergeant Gracefall of the Gryphonian army.” Grif stood before the gryphon with both blades drawn. Not that it was necessary. The bodies of dead Gryphon officers littered the floor and the one still living looked far worse. His body lay beaten and broken, his front and back feet tied together, forcing him into an awkward sitting position. Blood painted his once pristine yellow fur into an almost sunset orange. The sound of the mercenaries carrying out the executions of the last gryphons in the base could be heard in the distance.
“You led the recon team that attacked close to nineteen separate pony villages, most of which you picked out simply for their lack of ability to defend themselves. You wiped out mares, stallions, and foals indiscriminately and fed on their flesh. You proved yourself with cowardice and savagery. And these are all things I wIll not ... no, I cannot forgive!” Grif measured his pace, slow and terrifying, like death approaching, hovering, just waiting to bring horrors one could not even begin to imagine. “One of my friends lost his entire family in Mountainside Falls. I didn’t have the heart to inform him the reports say you never bothered to send any ponies from that settlement into the empire. But I’m rambling. You're just another name on my list. So let me dispense with the pleasantries.” The two blades swung with a cold, calculated accuracy as the wings were severed. The Gryphon cried in agony. “I hereby, in the name of justice, sentence you to walk the earth for your sins. Send the others my regards, will you?” Before the gryphon could respond, Grif slashed his throat and turned away as he waited for the inevitable.
It had been a month since the wedding. Four days later, Grif made for Gryphonia with nothing more than his two ponies, shrial, and enough Equestrian promissory notes to bankrupt Manehattan. Before officially crossing the border he had entered the first tavern he could find and hired as many non-gryphon mercenaries he could get his talons on. All in all it had turned out to be quite a company. Diamond dogs, minotaurs, zebras, a few horses and much to Grif's surprise, even a kangaroo. With his own little army assembled, Grif had begun his hunting along the border. He had already managed to find three names on the list. Mind you, they were low level soldiers, and as such, neither hard to take care of nor significant. This had been his first major name on the list and the first time he had led an attack on an entire camp to reach his target. The battle had been brutal. A few mercenaries would doubtless be mourning their comrades over the rations tonight. But lives had been saved. Nearly a dozen live ponies would be sent back to equestria with the next neutral caravan they found.
Celestia had been notably shocked at Grif’s adamant refusal to take any equestrian troops. No ponies or thestrals. Just enough bits to hire the muscle he needed.
Grif respected mercenaries. They were professionals. Quick, effective, and they didn’t doubt orders. Provided the money was good, they were pretty self sustaining. Grif had been very careful in his selections. Everyone in the group had some reason to hate gryphons.
Grif was drawn from his reflections by a loud thump as the gryphon behind him finally bled out. sheathing his blades, he drew his knife. Now he just needed to decide which feathers were the comfiest.
Hammer Strike cracked his neck as he shifted his great hammer onto his back. Looking around, he casually counted the bodies of the Gryphons that were strewn across the room. Many looked more like a tender pulpy mass than they did creatures. Little, if anything, remained of their original forms. Blood coated the floor. He sighed. A month and a week had passed since Pensword’s wedding and now he found himself on the front lines. Or somewhere very near it at least.
Adjusting the hammer again, he began to take his journey back to the nearest pony controlled fort. He would let these corpses rot for a time; let the Gryphons remember why they fear his hammer and why they should fear the ponies.
Over the course of the month Hammer Strike had been working mainly on weapons and armor. The second part of his time had been spent fighting in these occasional missions when he got bored and wanted to get out. By now he had gone a full week without rest. Not that he didn’t try, but he never really felt secure. Or perhaps it was something else that was disturbing him. For whatever reason, he felt … paranoid, afraid. He knew he could trust Pensword and Grif on their decisions, but at the same time he couldn’t help but feel off about their actions. Like it or not, this adventure, these lives, had changed them. All three of them. And Hammer instinctively knew they would never be the same.
Blinking his eyes, the outside world came into focus again as he left the realms of his fears behind for a time. He shook his head, his mane shifting out of place with bits of hay and blood clinging as he pushed those fears back into the dark corner of his mind where they belonged. He knew his mane stylist would faint from his lack of upkeep when he got back to Unity. But for now, he had a war to win. A mane didn’t matter much when lives were at stake.
Coming out of his musings, Hammer Strike raised an eyebrow in surprise. Apparently he had been walking without realising it. Thick forest surrounded him, filling the mountain air with the scents of pine, moss, and fern. Darkness filled the expanse, giving the impression of intimidation and anger as the shadows loomed above in the ancient boughs. Searching for a point of reference, Hammer Strike spotted a small glow in the distance, hinting at the presence of a campfire. Sighing, he headed in the direction of the camp, or at least what he hoped was a camp. If he was lucky, perhaps he could get some directions out of the forest, or at the very least they would let him stay the night until he could get his bearings in the morning. At worst it would be a Gryphon camp and he would get a little more entertainment before taking a rest for the night. He approached silently, the blanket of needles masking his hoofsteps. As he drew near, his ears swiveled, picking up on the conversation.
“So why are ponies so scared of this Hammer Strike fellow? Is just earth pony, no? We take Hammer, we hit him, and then we collect monies, yes?” The accent was thick, the voice deep and rough.
“Not so simple, brother. He is favorite of their princess. They no want anyone to know when they behind his pain. Princess find out, things go to…” The sentence ended with a word Hammer Strike could neither identify nor replicate.
“I could teach you the reason why they fear me.” Hammer Strike said aloud as he entered the ring of firelight. A large pot stood hanging over the flames, held by some sort of portable tripod with a swinging arm and hook attachment. Two massive tents stood nearby, covered in patches and shoddy camouflage. Lastly, he noted the two massive creatures whose backs were turned to him, staring into the flames. They sat on a couple of boulders, their meaty fingers tipped by thick, dark nails. Two rope-like protrusions whipped around as the creatures turned to face the intruder.
“Huh, little pony has found our camp,” The larger of the two minotaurs noted. His coat was an earthy brown and a large silver ring hung from his nose. His left horn was notably broken in half. His brother, who sat beside him, was a dull grey. He wore no nose ring, but both horns remained intact. The older brother hefted his axe. “Be saving us a lot of time.” Then he charged.
Fifteen minutes later Hammer Strike stood victorious over the two bodies, the grey minotaur’s warhammer still in his hooves, his broken face stained red. Hammer Strike’s would-be assassins had proven to be skilled combatants, but all in all they didn’t have the experience Hammer Strike did. Searching through their bags, he came across a note calling for his own head, offering a bounty of near one thousand bits for it. The faded seal of house flame stood in wax on the note. The scent of Eau du Prancé wafted faintly, mingled with incense and spice. Only one hoof could have written and sealed this letter.
“Well, then. At least he is being more creative about it now,” Hammer Strike commented, tucking the scroll in his saddlebag. Taking one last look around, he shrugged and gave the warhammer a quick look to determine what it was made out of. Crouching in the dimming firelight, Hammer Strike began his examination.
To say the hammer was crude would be a vast understatement. As far as Hammer Strike could tell it consisted of a very large stone that had been broken apart by crude blows, hacked to vaguely resemble the shape of a hammer, and tied to a large stick using leather straps. The battle axe wasn’t even worth the smith master’s time.
With a shrug Hammer Strike put the hammer down and continued on his path out of the forest, the flames disappearing into nothingness with a sound of whooshing air as the cool night rushed in to fill the suddenly empty space of the fire pit where dim embers glowed, then sputtered, then died.
Lunar Fang glared from the command tower that had been added to Hammer Strike’s wall. She could easily see the smaller Gryphon Army marching through another of the passes in the mountain Range between the Gryphon nation on their continent and Equestria. It would have to be resealed. She looked to her guards from the doorway facing the city. As she did so she was reminded of that one snow ball fight from so long ago as she looked to the soldiers and volunteer home guard. She felt a pang of sadness, missing her mate. But they were needed on different fronts. “Pull forward the Trebuchets. Let’s hit them a little harder from the get go,” She ordered. As she heard the shouts of acknowledgement, she turned back to face the enemy camp. Hopefully, they would be within range of the massive engines. “Let’s hope that Lead Weight’s little toy hobby works.” She knew it would work, yet she was still nervous seeing this happening for the “First time.”
Her ears pivoted in her helmet as she heard the creaking sound of wood shifting and the whoosh of wind as eight boulders were hurtled over the walls. Four found their target, landing right in the middle of the Gryphon encampment. Already her ears were picking up the calls for adjustments from Lead Weight and the cries of terror from the Gryphon camp. A rather ill attempt was made on the Gryphons’ part to take out these new weapons, only to be repelled from enclosed sections of the wall. The Gryphons were sorely angered by the fact that Fillydelphia was not falling, and had not fallen to their previous General. It was an eyesore on their so called perfect record.
What worried Lunar Fang’s troops were the numbers of Gryphons that could fight and were here on the Continent. She, however, had faith and foreknowledge that they would win. She would not waver. She knew she would hold the city that Hammer Strike saved. She shook her head as the Gryphon armies began to pull back out of range. She wondered just how far they could throw. She continued to wonder as a long bolder was launched and landed on the far reach of the Gryphon camp, causing severe damage and several more casualties. It even struck five gryphons from the sky. She sat down and continued her observation. They were quickly abandoning equipment, gear, even a few colors which she knew her fellow brothers and sister of the night would soon have for her own collection of war trophies. This brought a happy smile to her muzzle. She would have her own trophies as her mate had his. Then she smiled inwardly, knowing that very soon her armor would be too small for her.
Pensword stared at the pile of scrolls that he had to go through. Now he was Commander Pensword, Leader of the entire military of Equestria. And so, he had to place the needs of the forces and safety of Equestria first. He had been the one to approve Grif’s Mission, the deployment of Lord Hammer Strike to the North Eastern front, which was showing the most buildup, and finally the reassignment of his own mate back to Fillydelphia to protect the city from falling to a second attack. He had a slightly worrying thought. “It’s like the mongol horde,” He uttered to the empty room. He sat down and heaved a sigh. He missed the feeling of Lunar Fang next to him. It had been one month, two weeks, and a day since their wedding. Lunar fang had left two weeks ago. During the customary two weeks of working holiday, the two had never left each other’s side for long.
He reached and opened the first scroll, pausing to say a silent prayer as he read the casualty report. Sighing, he rolled it up and placed it to the side for an aide to take care of and to delegate a means to compensate the families affected. He was the first Commander in the Equestrian Military after all. While he could not write personally to each soldier’s family, he would make sure that the families knew that at least he was mourning with them in their loss.
He paused as he heard a knock at his door. A moment later, Sergeant Blueblood walked in holding a scroll in his telekinetic grasp. He dropped it neatly on the desk and left. Pensword soon realized why he left so quickly and without any comment. The mark on the scroll clearly identified the author. It was an update from Grif. He broke the seal and quickly read it. As he did so he took out another scroll and slowly crossed out a few lines, letting the ink dry. Then he rolled the two scrolls back up and placed them into one of the drawers of the desk he had commandeered for his office.
He continued with the reports for the rest of morning and into midday when another knock at the door interrupted him just after he’d finished writing some more instructions for Commandante Supreme Sunrise and Colonel Hurricane on their front. Major Hurricane, promoted due to Celestia’s orders, was currently stationed at a defensive position in the now renamed town of Gryphon Falls.
Sadly, it seemed the closest Pony controlled area near Hammer Strike was Promethean’s camp. While the idea of walking another several miles to the next camp sounded like a wonderful idea, he decided it best to stay at least for a moment to relax.
The camp had plenty of expensive tents, each one offering lavish comforts at a very high price. Hammer Strike snorted derisively. As if a tent had any defensive value to it…
Shaking his head, Hammer Strike found himself wandering around the camp for a bit. Meanwhile, a personal guard made a beeline for Promethean's tent. Within a minute he reached the tent and flung open the flaps. “Sir,” The guard said
“Speak,” Promethean Flame replied.
“Hammer Strike lives, sir.”
“I should have guessed.” Promethean Flame sighed. “Send him to my tent, but tell no one else where he has gone. Am I clear?”
“Yes, sir.” The guard saluted smartly, heading out of the tent in the general location he last saw Hammer Strike. Much to his surprise, the Lord hadn’t moved far. “Lord Hammer Strike,” The guard called out to him.
Hammer Strike turned, his brow raised. “Yes?”
“My Lord, Promethean Flame, requests your presence at his tent.”
“Very well.” Hammer Strike sighed. “Which direction is his tent?” He asked. The guard pointed and Hammer Strike gave a weary nod of annoyance before starting on his way.
The first thing he noted as he entered the tent was that it was surprisingly devoid of Promethean Flame.
“Wonderful. Did I find the wrong tent…?” He muttered to himself.
A multitude of pinpricks crawled across his legs and back. Looking down he noticed his legs and flanks were lined with what appeared to be darts of some kind. From the other side of the tent several familiar black cloaked figures entered. Hammer Strike managed to cut two of them down before the world began to swim, and a third before everything went black.
Grif sighed while looking out from his cell, attempting to look distraught and possibly broken. Such a hard thing to do. His men had managed to find information regarding another name on the list at a small outpost nearby. They had scoped the place out, noted troop movements, even possible alternate venues for entrance or escape. But when the time came for the attack things had quickly gone south. The gryphon numbers had been near double what they had suspected and they were soon overwhelmed. Grif had managed to make an escape route for Little Willow, Tall Oak, and Shrial with a fair portion of his men, but he and a few others had been captured in the process. It was a small price to pay.
Grif had been informed that the emperor wanted his execution to be as public and humiliating as possible. So they had been instructed not to seriously harm or kill him unless they had no other choice. He had been thrown in a stone cell with nothing more than straw for a bed. The gryphons where sure they had captured the gryphon who hunted his own kind and now all trouble from that end would die down. Oh how wrong they were. He allowed himself a small smirk before catching himself and returning to the act.
Grif did not see things their way. He bided his time through the day, not making any major movements, acting cowardly and meek. The act had, for the most part, left the guard unassuming, and this was much more dangerous, and fatal, than he would ever realize.
As said guard made his way down the hall and out of sight to switch for the night, Grif took his chance. The gryphons were sure a stone cell with nothing but straw would keep anyone at bay. Grif smiled, collecting up some of the old straw. “Thank you, MacGyver,” he said.
Several moments later the night guard approached to find the cell door completely off its hinges, laying on the ground. Grif was gone. The guard entered the cell, looking desperately for any sign of the missing prisoner. He never heard Grif drop form the roof, but he did feel as the gryphon grabbed his neck and snapped it.
Grif checked the body. Finding the keys and a knife, he searched the other cells. Finding none of his men, he snuck through the prison as stealthily as possible. Fortunately, he found and retrieved his gear in the process. It was tempting to hunt for the gryphon on his list. However, discretion was the better part of valor, and Grif decided it was more necessary to escape. keeping to the shadows and moving swiftly, the gryphon managed to make his way through the outpost up and over the walls, alive to fight another day. He would avenge the lives of the fallen mercenaries.
Hammer Strike opened his eyes weakly, looking around as he tried to figure out where he was. The memory of his fight and the darts flashed into his mind and as much as he tried, he couldn’t find the energy to do much of anything. He shook his head lightly and studied the room around him.
Looking to his hooves, he discovered chains wrapped around him, connecting from the ceiling to hold his front hooves. A similar set of chains held his back hooves to the floor. The room was cylindrical in design. There were no real corners that he could perceive. A very unusual form of architecture, indeed.
Looking back to the cuff around his hoof, he gave the chain a pull, though he had next to no ability to move his legs. He felt strangely sluggish in all his attempts.
“Oh good, you’re awake.”A voice spoke up as a large, rust red colored gryphon stepped into view. “I am Senior Torturer Grimbeak,” he said wth a bow. “I will be your … host during your stay with us.” The gryphon smiled smugly. “So, this is the infamous ‘Celestia’s Ghost.’ You do not seem so ghostly now.” The Gryphon sneered over the captive pony, eying him carefully, sizing him up.
“The titles I receive, I have for a reason,” Hammer Strike responded. His mind raced, trying to find a solution, any solution to his current situation.
“And yet you seem unable to break through these chains.” The gryphon smiled as he rattled one of them, making Hammer’s body shake as well.
“Give me a bit and I shall show you a way around that.” He responded.
“I do not think so.” The gryphon leered. “I am not so self confident as to face you on even ground. Those chains are made from dragon bones and this entire room is lined with drake scales. You would have a better chance of burning through the moon than you would have putting so much as a single mark on this chamber.”
“Alright then,” Hammer Strike said. “You got me. Now what? Do you want a congratulations?”
“No, we want information,” The gryphon said, sneering, a look of dreadful eagerness transforming his face into a ghastly sycophantic image. “I hope you do not give it to us easily,” He purred.
“You would count yourself lucky to get anything from me,” Hammer responded matter of factly.
“We shall see about that.” The gryphon smiled, rolling in a wrack laden with all manner of weapons. “You have a favorite?” The gryphon asked.
“Surprise me.”
Grif stared at the document for the seventh time. They had…. procured it from a gryphon messenger flying by. The message seemed to be flying all over the gryphon empire. The contents sent a chill through him every time he read it. It claimed that Lord Hammer Strike, Celestia’s ghost, had been procured and was being held for information. Scouring the message for what had to have been the twentieth time, Grif let out of shriek of frustration, tearing the note to shreds with his talons. The location was not stated.
Grif wanted to help his friend desperately, but there were too many outposts along the border, all with their own prisons. Where would they have taken him? There had been no record of Hammer Strike’s capture in the history books. No indication where they would hold a prisoner like that. Realization hit Grif quite suddenly and his breast was filled with a desperate hope. He didn’t know. But maybe, just maybe, someone else did.
“Shrial?” Grif called out.
“Yes, sir?” Shrial asked, meeting his gaze, though shifting her eyes every once in a while. She had mastered her trembling and was making rather remarkable progress in her growth. The training had been brutal, but the effects were well worth it. Toned muscle streamlined her body, granting a feral sort of elegance to her gait as they bunched and relaxed with every stride.
“The last few weeks, you’ve fought with me. You’ve spilled the blood of your brothers when you had no reason to. Now I am confronted by a situation I cannot solve on my own. If you can honestly, truly help me, there will no longer be any reason for me not to trust you. Did your father ever speak of any high security dungeons or jails near the border?” Grif asked, his expression grim. “My lord has been captured and I need to locate him before the worst happens.” His eyes seemed to swirl, shifting in eddies like two whirlpools.
Shrial gasped. “Celestia’s Ghost captured? Impossible.” She shook her head in disbelief. She had learned from painful experience just how strong Lord Hammer Strike really was. And though she had been trained to hate and view ponies as inferior, she had to admit that this particular pony was worthy of honor and respect. As a servant to his servant, she knew her duty. Her father would turn in his grave, but he was no longer here to haunt her and she was no longer of that clan. The time had come for her to decide where her new loyalties would truly lie.
“I know I have not been the kindest to you, but I like to think I’ve been fair. Now I’m asking you to be fair to me. My oath is at stake.” Grif looked her in the eye.
Shrial began to tremble. To give this information to Grif would mean betraying everything and everyone she had once known and loved. And yet … Grif had shown her there was so much more to the world than what her Father had ever revealed. And he was right. While the training had hurt, Grif had indeed been kind, only taking her as far as she could bear, gradually helping her to grow strong. After all, it is not an easy thing to shove several years worth of training into two months. She took a deep breath, remembering her hunt with the Thestrals. “A mare must choose their own path to walk by the moonlight. But remember, while our paths may differ, we are all family. Our hearts beat as one.” Those words had been told her by a particularly wise Thestral named Piercing Roar. She closed her eyes, remembering how she felt when they had accepted her, forgiven her, treated her as one of their own. These ponies truly did have far more honor and respect than any Gryphon she had known in the empire. Her eyes snapped open, her look determined. A new fire burned within.
“There can be only one. My father spoke of it often. It is a place where we take prisoners of war who are of political significance and traitors. They are systematically tortured and beaten mentally and physically until they are completely broken. Then the Emperor comes to pass judgement upon them.” She shuddered. “Father used to threaten me as a child that he would put me there if I dared to question his orders … and I knew he meant it.” A single tear streamed down her cheek as she recalled both the good and the bad of her father, Jorund. “Shertugal: The Fortress of Desolation. Some call it the pit of despair. None escape those halls unless they are dead or a hollow husk, mindless and broken, cast out to wander the lands until the manticores take them. If there is any place they would take your … our lord, it would be there.”
“Thank you, Shrial,” Grif said with relief and gravity. He moved back to a trunk in the corner and fetched something. Walking back to her, he laid a new longsword in front of her. It was far more elegant than the one she had been assigned by her father, smaller and thinner with a wiry handguard that would protect her entire claw. “Here. The sword you had on you was trash. I had this commissioned before we left the fort. Get used to it. Name it. Carry it with you at all times. You are a warrior. This weapon is as good as your soul. And anyone who loses track of their soul is a poor person indeed.”
“You … you made this … for me?” Shrial took up the blade, testing the balance in her talons. She performed a few experimental swipes. The light danced across the blade and through the antechamber as she sliced through the air.
“In as much as I paid the blacksmith who made it, yes. It’s admittedly not hammerstrike class weaponry, but it will keep you alive. And now that I know I won’t be looking at the tip as it’s protruding from the front of my chest, I think it’s time you began to keep it as a warrior should.” Grif looked her in the eye. “Take care of it and it will take care of you.”
“I will.” For the first time, Shrial looked at Grif, really looked at him. And within those eyes she could see so much more than she ever thought she could know about another Gryphon. She saw kindness, honor, valor, concern, intelligence, and deeper still, a gnawing fear and rage. Remembering the first time she met Grif and the following weeks, it was almost as if he were two Gryphons in one body. But that would be ridiculous. She shook her head and smiled grimly. “When do we start?”
“Go. Tell everyone that we’re marching at dawn.” He paused, placing a talon to his beak in thought. “We don’t have the numbers to take on a fortress by ourselves. Hurricane’s base is just across the border. I’ll send a message to him informing the others of the situation. I want the watch lifted tonight. I’ll stay up and keep it myself. Double everyone’s rations, but make sure they get to bed early. This may be the last full night’s sleep they get in a while.” Grif pulled out a fresh piece of parchment, quickly making a quill by plucking one of his own feathers. “I just hope pensword still has that dragon.”
“Hammers, daggers, swords, axes, maces, balls and chains, spears,” Senior Torturer Grimbeak looked at the table of bent or broken weapons in sheer disbelief, his face almost as red as his coat in his frustration. The bladed weapons had been dulled to the point of uselessness. They had cut the pony or punctured him, but the damage was shallow before the blade dulled and the wounds healed or simply cauterized themselves shut before the gryphons could exploit them. “What have the ponies done to you? Cast some sort of augmentation spell?”
“No spells,” Hammer Strike responded, trying to ignore the slight pain running through him.
“Well nevertheless, we have proven you can be cut. And where metal and craft could do little ...” he smiled cruelly as a trolley laden with numerous powders and liquids rolled in. “Perhaps mother nature can do more.” The smile twisted into a maniacal grin.
Hammer Strike didn’t respond, keeping his gaze on the gryphon in front of him. He looked bored, but something stirred in those hazel eyes, flickering like embers.
“I have been told that the iceberg ivy plant produces a toxin that makes one feel like their insides are frozen. It is non-lethal, but extraordinarily painful. Grimbeak kept grinning as he took a handful of azure coloured powder and threw it in Hammer Strike’s face. “Maybe you will be able to give me a better description.”
Hammer Strike didn’t speak as he gritted his teeth. His eyelids twitched slightly, these two signs the only indication of the poison taking effect as he kept his unbroken gaze on the Gryphon.
“You are not a very fun torture subject, are you?” The gryphon shrugged amiably. Grabbing a broken mace, he began to use it as a club, beating savagely on the pony’s head.
Pensword looked up from his desk as a strange sensation washed over him, prickling his fur. A moment later a scroll materialized out of the air, plopping onto his new Mahogany desk. He started as he noticed the seal. Intricately carved into the dollop of wax, a pair of crossed feathers stood with sword handles on the edges where the nubs would normally be. The hand guards circled prominently to act as protection to their would be wielders. “Bladefeathers …” Grif must have used the lighter Hammer Strike had returned. He took a moment to admire the craftsmanship before switching his attention to a second seal. His heart froze. Hammer Strike’s personal seal lay in all its glory. There was but one problem. A gaping crack in the mold had marred the surface. Pensword knew the seal’s meaning and quickly moved to the door. With a turn of his hoof the bolt was thrown. Satisfied that he was alone and would not be disturbed, Pensword raced to his desk, sat down, and broke open the scroll, his heart racing.
Pensword,
I intercepted a message recently. It claimed that Hammerstrike has been captured. I don’t have all the details, but I have a reliable source telling me he is being held at the Fortress of Desolation, also known as Shertugal. I am getting reinforcements from Hurricane’s camp, but I need something with the power of a siege weapon and the ability to move on it’s own. Can you supply the heavy weaponry?
Grif Bladefeather
Pensword stood silently before he spun around and hit the wall with a hoof. “Dummkopf.” He hit the wall again. “BAKA!” he yelled. “I told him to keep guards with him.” he yelled to no one. “But no, he had to wave it off. This is not Equestria, or even home for that matter. Nobles have plots for and against thee.” He sighed and his face darkened. “Heaven above if he gets hurt I shall go ballistic on him and that entire Fortress!” He stomped around the room, his mood foul as he kicked the desk aside, sending it sliding a few feet across the floor. Not an easy feat considering the sheer weight and bulk the desk had. It was solid oak. “I should have stayed with him. I don’t give a flying rat’s care for what history says. I should have protected him.” He trotted to the newly shifted desk, angrily taking parchment and quill. Breaking the pen, he let out a roar of rage and tore up the blank parchment before flinging it away and grabbing a new sheet and quill.
Grif,
I am sending you my best weapon. I am not sending anything that can be broken and should give the greatest warriors of all cause for pause and pain. You should get my gift for the fight soon. Use him wisely. Let him take anything of value from the Fortress first and then pay the merchs. I think the Merchs will agree with that. Otherwise, those that disagree can be eaten for all I care. May you never know the anger I Feel at myself, at Gryphons, and finally, at Hammer Strike. When he gets back, I demand to see him as Commander of the Equestrian Military. At least with that title, I have the right to chew him out. And I will.
Pensword.
The ink spread in a spatter as Pensword stabbed the pen home on the final period. Snorting, he left it to dry as he took a Crystal from the drawer and put a hoof on it. Following the dragon’s instructions, he channeled his emotions into it. A moment later he got a response. The Dragon would be at his location in three days, at which point he would direct it to Grif’s location. He returned to the parchment.
Postscript:
The weaponry shall arrive at the Fortress in three days, at which point I am sending it directly to the Colonel Hurricane’s camp. Give the word and I shall march out there myself and lay siege to that fortress if needed.
Your friend for eternity,
Matthias
He let the new ink dry before rolling up the paper, sealing it in his new seal. He turned to a lamp with a glowing blue flame. It licked gently from its wick. A mysterious blue liquid glowed in the crystal chamber below the lamp. He took off the glass chimney and held the scroll to the flame, watching as it become smoke and sparkles moving with all speed toward his friend.
Pensword sighed as he watched the cloud vanish from his office. He felt so tired now that the surge of anger slowly ebbed away. He was furious at Hammer Strike, but he was even more angered by the Gryphons. He narrowed his eyes as he moved to another part of his office where he held the table he had first seen back in the Hurricanes’ manor a lifetime ago. He quickly set a few controls and security protocols and promptly had a clean map laid upon it for planning. He narrowed his eyes as he focused the magical map upon the location. Fort Desolation was far into the Equestrian land mass’ Gryphon territory. His keen tactical mind immediately picked up on at least ten outposts and three more fortresses they could take to act as decoys thanks to the captured maps they had taken from enemy troops. Finally, he saw the icons of at least three normal Army groups. He paused and pondered if they were still there, or if they were currently being used to back up the front lines. He quickly split the map to show a scenario of the two main concerns within and without.
He quickly placed Grif’s icon at Colonel Hurricane’s camp and then placed a Dragon icon. He watched as they marched and played out the two different scenarios based on the information that he had fed into the magical construct. He frowned. If the Armies were there, Grif would suffer heavy losses and this scenario warned the possible death of Colonel Hurricane and Grif in the assault. On the plus side, according to the map, the dragon would cause a few fear modifiers to effect the enemy troops. In the second scenario, he had removed the troops due to reinforcements and pushing the incursions into Equestria through the other passes. It was a little better. The only places that would hang up the plan of attack would be the outposts. He quickly turned to his desk and wrote another letter that would be mailed to Colonel Hurricane. It had a simple command.
Colonel Hurricane,
I want all outposts razed to the ground. I am sending my special weapon north. I wish to inform you as well that Lord Hammer Strike, in some manner, was captured by the Forces of Gryphonia. I want thee to make all due speed to Fort Desolation. Battle Captain Grif shall have the details of the plan. Listen to him. That is an order, if needed, from your Commander.
Pensword.
He sealed the letter once it was dry and sent it on its way via a purple fire lamp, rather than the blue. Then he closed his eyes as he moved to the map. He quickly opened up another scenario, setting the time moving forward as he began to move troops around in an imaginary incursion into the area. He paused and quickly sent a message to the linked table in Major Hurricane’s office in Gryphon Falls. He was to start organizing search and destroy missions for any remaining pockets of Gryphons in this area of the mountains. He hoped their actions would allow them to close off other smaller valleys, or even tunnels that were being used in desperation. He closed his eyes. “This is why I never move. It is a campaign just to keep the enemy out of Equestria.” He let out a sigh before returning the map to the current situation and moved to a wall with a large map written in the Gryphic tongue. Under the names, translations stood boldly in Equis. He shook his head. He would aim for the King of this area’s capital if needed. Come to think of it, he always wondered why the war ended so suddenly ...
The last few weeks had been hard on Little Willow and Tall Oak, the two earth ponies had made it clear that whether it was Grif’s wish or not, they would be following him into Gryphonia. The earth pony mare had been more than a little angry when she spotted the gryphoness following Grif around and the two had been at odds ever since.
Tall Oak, for his part, had been distant, but respectful to the gryphoness in their few interactions. The big earth pony stallion carrying the large sword across his back had been a bit hard for her to get used to, but over time she had settled into her own quiet accord with him. Currently the pair of ponies were working on dismantling Little Willow’s medical equipment for travel in preparation for the oncoming march. Neither seemed to notice the gryphoness entering the tent from behind.
Shrial cleared her throat, eying the two ponies carefully. “I, um … I came to see what I could do to help.”
“We’re quite fine here, thank you,” Little Willow responded without even looking at her, her tone sharp as a knife.
Tall Oak turned his head and nodded respectfully to shrial. “The beds need dismantling yet.” Little Willow glared at him, but let it pass, immersing herself in her duties as she Packaged the bandages and other pieces of her kits.
Shrial nodded, quickly moving to take down the cots. For a military girl like her, it was easy enough to take care of. After placing them with the others that lay in a pile nearby to load for transport, she came back in. Taking a deep breath, she steeled herself. If she was going to go into battle, she needed to clear a few things up. She hardened her eyes and nodded in apology to Tall Oak before she began in earnest. “Just what is your problem, Little Willow? You have done nothing but stare daggers at my wings since I was brought into this camp. I want to know why.”
Little Willow glared at her hard. “Why don’t you ask my parents? Oh wait, that’s right, I watched them get skinned and flayed by your emperor's soldiers for supper,” she said. “I don’t know what trick you pulled on Grif to make him spare you, but it’s not working on us.”
Shrial smirked. “You care for him deeply, do you not? Why else would you use what he calls contractions? He has had a great impact upon you, I can see. It is no wonder considering the honor he bears. It weighs heavily upon him. Sometimes a little too heavily, I think.” Her countenance softened as she recalled that brief glimpse of what she had seen when she overcame her fear and looked on Grif as an equal for the first time. Her sword lay waiting in its scabbard, the symbol of Grif’s trust. She would not betray it. Looking on Little Willow, she could see the hurt, the sorrow, the fear. But more importantly, she could see the evil lurking beneath, feeding upon those emotions. It had to be cut off. Shrial’s face hardened again.“With regards to your other accusations, I can say nothing to defend myself. I am what I am. I was raised a Gryphon general’s daughter in the Emperor's reign. I was raised on a variety of meats, most particularly pony meats after the manner of our clan’s tradition. I was bred to be a trembling, shivering wretch who would do whatever any man commanded. And when your Pensword and Grif came to our fort, they killed my father. I was upset, angry, and most of all, lost. Everything I held dear was taken from me in an instant. Pensword showed me the loss you have faced, and that he faced. I did not feel that I could bear it, so I begged them to kill me. They would not.
“From there, Grif took me in and forced me to change. It was hard. I have received many hurts, many bruises. But given time, he succeeded. I have been changed by him, just as you have. One of his greatest lessons to me was to never back down and always let myself be heard. I have nothing to prove to you and your judgement means nothing to me. I cannot control the actions of other Gryphons, only my own. I have lived among your kind, learned from them, laughed with them, hunted with them, fought with them, served with them. And like Grif, and as a member of the Bladefeather clan, I have sworn to never again partake of the meat of an intelligent creature.” Little Willow flinched, each sentence a heavy blow as Shrial told her tale, so like her own, and yet, so vastly different.
“You may hold on to your hatred and your anger if you wish, but know this. It will lead to your destruction if you do. It will consume you, Little Willow, Nature Child. And it will warp your gift of healing into something ugly and dark. Let it go and judge me by my current deeds, not on the things I could not control. Your brother has likely already told you this. Think about it, Little Willow. And should you truly desire a reckoning, my tent is always open. I ask only one thing. Never, never, question my loyalty to Grif. He saved me just as he saved you.” Shrial’s gaze was cold, but respectful, her fury kept in check by well built discipline. “I apologize for taking up so much of your time. Tall Oak.” She bowed her head in respect and farewell as she turned to leave.
“W...wait!” Little Willow’s voice had changed, the scathing tone was gone and the mare spoke over somewhat choked sobs. “I, I’m sorry. I promised myself I wouldn’t do this … that I wouldn’t do what they did to him.” She continued to sob as she tried to get ahold of herself.
Shrial waited as requested, halting in her exit. But she did not turn around just yet. Her gaze pierced to the horizon as she contemplated the setting sun in its course, a symbol of endings and death, and yet, the possibility of a new beginning and a new light to rise. It reminded her much of herself over the last two months and the changes she’d had to face.
Tall Oak spoke up, surprising both females. “My sister and I saw just a small piece of how Grif was treated among other gryphons. It isn’t a pleasant memory.”
“Many believe orphans to be weak creatures who have no right to live. Grif has proven that to be false. I believe he will help many people to see what true strength is one day. Though in our day and age he will face ridicule and pain, he is paving a way for a better future. I admire him for that strength.” A gentle breeze played through the camp, brushing Shrial’s primaries as the golden sunlight danced on her pristine white crown feathers, causing them to practically glow.
“His village gave him nothing but glares and insults.” Little Willow spoke as calmly as she could. “He gave meat to the families that needed extra during the plague without asking for anything and all he received were complaints because the meat was cold, or salty, or that they don’t like bear meat, or moose meat. He saved us and he wouldn’t accept anything in return. How many gryphons must have known we were in that cage waiting till our turn came to die and did nothing? Yet he turned to help us. Even now, he hunts down names on some list because he feels guilty for what the gryphons have done. I-I fear it will be the death of him.”
“I won’t let it.” Shrial’s words cut through the atmosphere like a lightning bolt, speaking volumes. “I won’t let it,” she said again, the gold darkening to a bloody red as she turned to face the ponies. “I won’t.”
Celestia sat inside her personal quarters sorting through letters. That is, until a wisp of smoke entered the room and began to solidify itself into a scroll, landing on her desk.
With a questioning gaze she grabbed the scroll and opened it, reading its contents.
Princess Celestia,
It has come to my attention that Lord Hammer Strike has been captured by the Gryphons. We will be leading an attack against the fortress holding him in attempt to rescue him.
Grif Bladefeather
Celestia questioned the letter. Why would they need to send a rescue for Hammer Strike? Her teacher could easily make his way out, crushing any who got in his way. She had half a mind to reply and tell Grif to simply wait it out, but she decided the gryphon needed to learn not to doubt Hammer Strike. Should he chose to, he would break free in a day, two at most. She took a quill and some parchment in her magical grasp and quickly wrote a reply.
Dear Grif,
Do whatever you feel is necessary, though I see this more as an unneeded use of resources. Hammer Strike will be fine. The Gryphons will learn that he cannot be held. If he wishes to walk away, he will walk away. If, for some reason, he is still in captivity it is most likely because he is planning something large that will shake the Gryphon arrogance to their foundation.
HRH Princess Celestia
Princess Celestia rolled up the scroll and sent it off to Grif without further thought. Then, turning to look at the wall and the map of Equestria, her brow furrowed. Something felt off, yet what worried her the most was that her sister was off in the Eastern Front leading troops against any Gryphons still inside the borders. She frowned at how many small and large parties of Gryphons could sneak about in her lands so easily. “Be safe, Sister.” She whispered to the air. She was worried how much more of this Fires of Tartarus poison might still be around.
“Well, you are quite the specimen of earth pony strength are you not?” The gryphon noted. “Usually the strongest ponies break after a small blast of sensory deprivation powder. And I have used up my entire supply on you.” Grimbeak twisted his head to the side quizzically, his eyes calculating. “You seem to have no natural reaction to anything.” The gryphon lashed out with a talon and a burning pain lanced through Hammer Strike’s ear. “Not even a wince.”
“However, physical pain is not our only means of making prisoners talk. If we cannot make you speak through pain, then perhaps you will talk to save another?” The gryphon looked forward and signalled, motioning with a talon to some unseen individual. An armed gryphon private came into Hammer Strike’s view holding a young mare with a knife to her throat.
“Don’t you dare.” Hammer Strike’s tone shifted for the first time in the two weeks he had been held captive. His normally unamused tone had been replaced by one far more ominous in nature.
“Then tell us about Equestria’s current defenses.” The gryphon said.
“I can not do that.”
“Very well.” Grimbeak gave a curt nod to the guard and Hammer Strike heard the gargled scream as the gryphon soldier slowly slit the pony’s throat. “Bring in the next one,” Grimbeak said.
A fury had been building in Hammer Strike since the day of his capture. But this ... this was much more. An innocent life had just been taken in front of him. And they were planning to steal more. He pulled on the chains, his mind coming back to life as he felt his body fill with energy.
The next was a stallion just barely out of his foal years. “Talk.” The gryphon said. “We know Celestia trusts you with everything.”
The next sound heard was not the voice of Hammer Strike, but of chains creaking as they strained against the sudden force he put out.
The gryphon signalled someone behind Hammer Strike and several more pricks covered his skin, telling him he had received more drugs. He felt his muscles relax against his will, his eyes drooping as he lost the energy he had, his thoughts slowing.
“Can’t have you getting out of those chains now, can we?” Gimbeak sneered, signalling the hostage keeper again. This time a choking gasp strained its way to Hammer Strike’s ears as the hostage was slowly strangled to death, his windpipe crushed with exquisite slowness.
With his last ounce of energy, Hammer Strike looked up to his gryphon captors, a dull fire burning in his eyes. “Pray that I never break free, or else that I die first. For if ever I find release, I will bring hell to your doorstep when I do…”
Lunar Fang slowly rose from her prayer to Faust and turned around at the altar in the front of the congregational area. She opened her eyes and began to walk back down the aisle to the entrance. She paused as Promethean Flame entered the cathedral. He walked to the donation box and dropped a few coins in before smiling smugly at her. He walked slowly and deliberately towards her before bowing his head. “Dame Lunar Fang.”
“Lord Flame,” Lunar Fang replied civilly. “I thank you for your donation.” She moved to continue on her way.
“I must admit, you thestrals performed adequately in protecting the city. Soon you will be able to return to your cave with your bear stews and let the sensible ponies handle things, hmm?” he said.
“Well, it might be a cave in your backyard.” She replied with a smirk. “Princess Luna has granted us citizenship. So you shall be seeing us more often. And I have plans to become a member of this herd.” She moved a wing to indicate the cathedral. “Or I might just join the herd in Unity.” she added with a smirk.
“Oh, I don’t think Princess Luna has the influence to get her bill to pass,” promethean flame noted. “The lords can be very fickle, after all.”
She raised an eyebrow. “So the Lords risk losing the Princess that controls the night? One that has become a master battle tactician and master who has an entire nation loyal to her and could become some of Equestria’s most loyal subjects? Here is something else to consider as well. Thestrals would provide some new tax revenue for your coffers,” She added with a look of annoyance.
“Oh, the only thing we needed you for was the gryphon threat. And considering that their main base fell to a bat bird, they can’t be that much of a threat now, can they?” promethean flame snorted. “Last I heard, your husband is staying nice and safe up there in Fort Triumph while other ponies do the work for him.”
Lunar Fang bristled her mane. “He is not a Bat Bird.” her voice lowered and held a slight growl to it. “He is an Equestrian Citizen and the Commander of Equestria’s forces. Do you think he wants to be cooped up in that fortress all day? He would want to fight and win. But what would it mean if the Gryphons were to learn of his promotions and then see that he is leading the battle? It would be too much of a risk.” She moved to walk past him. “I am proud to serve him both as a Leader of the Troops, as well as his Mate and Wife.”
“Well then, I suppose you will be happy to know that you’ll be seeing him soon,” Promethean Flame said.
She paused and turned her head. “What do you mean?” She asked. “As the military leader here I am, by rules and traditions, able to ask that question and receive an answer.”
“Well, as soon as Celestia sees reason, the command will of course be placed in proper hooves.”
“Oh, you mean the Hurricane house?” She paused and looked to Promethean Flame. “Do you know also what happened a month ago? Or did you just gloss over the facts? Because if you think only a Hurricane can or should wield Commander status. He is a Hurricane, and by marriage, so. am. I.”
“Yes, but you are not nobility,” Promethean Flame pointed out. “There is no noble to watch over this land currently.”
“I am the Military commander.” She shot back. “If you feel that a noble is supposed to be an overseer to do all the fancy dinner parties and the like, by all means submit a list of names for me to peruse while we await Lord Hammer Strike’s return from the field of battle.” She looked to the noble with disdain. “Now if there is nothing else to discuss, I have military matters to deal with. This city will not defend itself.”
“I would not count on lord Hammer Strike’s return,” Promethean Flame said casually.“Ugly things, battles,” he said, trotting away.
Lunar Fang jerked to a halt, looking at the back of Promethian’s head as he trotted to the altar and knelt to pray. She turned and walked out of the finely carved doors, not caring to look anymore at the artwork. She felt something in pit of her stomach and she didn’t like it. She quickly made her way to military headquarters: one of the old manors left by the now desolate Hooves house. She shook her head. Lord Promethean Flame was poised to inherit the houses. She wondered if she could petition Princess Luna to grant the Hooves home as her own Dame land in Fillydelphia, seeing as landed nobility was of such importance at the moment. She paused as she was handed a sack of scrolls with updates.
She walked to her office and sat down, smiling as she took off her helmet to look at the letters and quickly pulled out two scrolls she instantly knew by sight. She always enjoyed getting letters from Pensword and Grif. She opened Pensword’s letter first, only to frown as she read on. The introduction was not his usual one.
Colonel Lunar Fang,
I write with a heavy in heart to state the following. Lord Hammer Strike has been imprisoned by the Gryphons and taken to their Fortress, Shertugal. Lunar Fang, I hereby require thee to be ready to march at a moment’s notice as Fillydelphia is on the southern edge of the passes that would lead directly into the region. Three army groups already await you there. I pray that thou shalt continue to build up the defenses. Continue the wall and trench building and continue the tower construction, but be ready to march if needed. I also sent our Heavy Friend to help Grif. Break the siege if thou canst and drive the Gryphons away. I need a clear path of retreat if such tactics should prove necessary.
Commander Pensword
She paused and moved a wing to open Grif’s scroll, both nervous and worried at what might be waiting inside. She had a bad feeling already. Now she had some new suspicions. She knew that gossip would spread through the ranks. And if her feeling as right, Promethian Flame would be spreading rumors like a pegasus spreading storms. It might be best to let them know about Promethean Flame’s words from before she received the letters to guard them against his baitings and doubtless, future slander.
Lunar Fang,
First off, whatever Pensword may have said about coming here, belay that. I have things handled here and Fillydelphia is much safer than anything out here. Pensword’s a little worried right now and he probably sent you a letter based on his worry and didn’t think anything through.
Second, breathe deep breaths, in and out. There we go! You got more than yourself to think about out there and I don’t think Pensword could take it if something happened to the two of you. I promise. I will get our friend back.
Keep your ear to the ground, will you? Hammer Strike was at a base on the edge but he’s no fool. Something feels off, but I can’t put the pieces together. So yeah, that’s it. Stay there, be safe, breathe, ear to the ground. Tell the godbaby I said hi!
Grif Bladefeather
P.S. It’s still awkward using that name, by the way.
Luna Fang slowly put the scrolls down as she looked dumbly at the two for a moment. Then she smiled a little and put a hoof to her belly. “Yes, I shouldn’t do anything too rash,” She muttered before getting up, walking to her door and opening it. “I am not to be disturbed for the next two hours, or until I come out. Whichever comes first,” She instructed her guard at the door. She acknowledged the order with a curt nod before returning to a rigid stance, her eyes alert and aware. Lunar Fang shut the door, went back to her desk, and sat down. Pulling a scroll to her, she began to write a letter of her own.
To my dearest husband and Commander,
Even when times are tough and you are writing on your emotions, please remember to at least greet me with love. Also, I know you are emotional as your writing is not as smooth or nice as usual, I assume due to your anger. I shall await your verification orders when a calmer head is present, my dear. Or would you rather have me keeping an eye on Promethean Flame? He arrived just three days ago. I spoke with him today and not only did he call you a Bat Bird. He also was suggesting that we Thestrals shall return to our caves and the former status quo.
Also, Flame mentioned something about Hammer Strike being missing in a roundabout way before either yours or Grif’s letter arrived. We need to keep an eye on him. When the times comes, we must present anything we find to the courts, or else act on our own. My dear, this is the day when wars between houses is common and it is normal to come against those that dishonor others.
My dear, please be calm. And remember that your orders do not only affect me, but our future child as well. I love you, and look forward to the day we can be together again.
Your wife and Mate,
Lunar Fang
Colonel Hurricane looked to the sky from his outpost on the border between Equestrian and Gryphonian territory as the shadow of a dragon flew overhead, spiraling three times before landing out in the open fields near the outpost. Any Gryphon scouts were hopefully already turning back with the news that a Dragon was in the region and landing near the Equestrian forces.
The ponies and the mercenaries in Grif’s group were immediately intimidated by the large beast. Even the minotaurs looked on the beast with a mixture of fear and grudging respect. Only Grif seemed to keep his cool as he approached. “You must be the dragon Pensword made a contract with. I was not given your name,” Grif said, keeping his tone level and respectful, yet challenging. “I am Grif, friend of ponies, traitor to my kind.” Grif did not bow, but kept his eyes on the dragon.
“So, you are the one I was sent to help... ” The dragon said, pausing. “I am called Haymin.”
“My Lord Hammer Strike has been taken into a nearby fortress and is likely being tortured. I plan to lead a charge to save him. I need your power to cause panic and give us an opening. In return, I offer you a tenth of the loot of your choosing.” Grif said, laying the contract out verbally for the dragon.
“A simple task.” The dragon said, rolling his eyes. “A tenth will do ... This time.”
“Good.” Grif nodded. “As a sign of good faith between us,” Grif pulled out a large golden gryphon statue from his bag. The dragon’s eyes sparkled with hoard lust. “A piece from an earlier conquest. I offer it as a gift to cement this deal between us.”
The dragon quickly snatched the statue in his claws, giving a small nod. “Why are we rescuing this lord anyways?”
“He is my lord.” Grif said. “He is the one who I gave my oath and the one who I trust completely. I would sooner charge down your throat to save his life than any other pony in this world save for five others,” Grif said. “And if not for my lord’s sake, remember what these gryphons almost did to your people. Surely getting paid to end their lives is worth it for you?”
The dragon shrugged. “Seems fine enough.”
“Wait here while we prepare. I will let you know when to head out. If you need anything, the minotaur over there will get it for you.” Grif motioned to one of the mercs who stood uneasily nearby.
“Well, we are out of our toxins, we have broken all our spare weapons, and the prison keepers tell me we are dangerously short on our food supply. I guess we won’t be getting anything out of you, will we?” The gryphon sighed as he pulled out a small container holding a murky black liquid. “I suppose there is no point in keeping you alive any longer then, is there?”
Hammer Strike only glared back at the gryphon.
“Let us start with Gorgon's Blood. It is admittedly faster then I would like, but it is easy to get ahold of and very effective,” Grimbeak said as he poured the liquid onto a knife he had retrieved from the trolley. Then, he stabbed Hammer Strike.
The poison administered to Hammer Strike’s system was supposed to take effect instantly. But as time ticked on, no signs of death came. Only that continued fixed glare.
“Huh. Well I guess that is to be expected...” The gryphon said. Over the next three hours, he exposed Hammer Strike to poison after poison. Manticore venom, Black Lotus Flower, Ogre Drool, not even basilisk venom could hurt this pony from legend. The gryphon grew more and more desperate with each failed attempt. finally, when all else had been exhausted, Grimbeak took out a small vial of bright orange fluid and gave it to the gryphon who had been drugging Hammer Strike with his darts.
“I will admit, I am surprised. By all accounts you should be dead many times over by now. However, it is time for this game to come to an end. The poison my underling is about to administer to you is known as the Flames of Tartarus. It is a rare poison my people can only make so much of every century. Fortunately, we have enough with us to easily kill an alicorn. A third of that should be enough to bring down an earth pony.” And with that he signaled the gryphon and Hammer Strike felt the pin prick into his leg.
He could feel the poison as it entered his body, raging through his veins and quickly filtering through his system. His insides felt like they were being set alight, melting, burning to the point he wanted to scream. But nothing came from his mouth when he tried. The gryphons looked on with fascination as they bore witness to the pain on Hammer Strike’s face. Soon he felt his vision fade. His energy sapped, and his head fell forward.
“Well, it was faster than I would have thought, but obviously we are finished. Take him to the crematory. With the toxins in his blood he wouldn’t be safe to eat...” Grimbeak instructed. He wiped some sweat off his feathered brow. That torture session must have taken more out of him than he thought. But as he looked to his underling, he noticed the same problem. At first it seemed like nothing, a mere inconvenience. But slowly, it rose. The private cried out in pain, dropping the corpse and backing away. Burns covered his hands, turning them an ugly blistered red. The end of the trolley that was meant to bear the body away slowly turned a warm cherry red. Sweat glistened on both gryphons now, not only from heat, but fear as it began evaporate from their bodies, wicked away by the heat of the great kiln the prison had become.
“There is a reason for titles…” They heard Hammer Strike say aloud, his voice warped and distorted. “Celestia’s… Ghost…”
Horror dawned on their faces as they turned to the corpse. The soldier with the blow pipe attempted to pump drugged darts into Hammer Strike only for them to burn to ash before they reached him.
“I am called that ... Not for the reason of being dead, not transparent… I am called that because-” The sound of grating stone and shrieking metal filled the room before the chain holding his right foreleg broke. “-You...” He continued, breaking the chains holding his left foreleg up. Orbs of fire began to form, hovering around him as they grew hotter and hotter. “-CAN NOT. KILL. ME.” He broke the last two chains holding him in place as he glared at his captors, his would be murderers. Hammer Strike’s eyes glowed white with fury, a trail of fire burned within them, streaking back into the air in a vaporous form. The room’s temperature took another jump, the hue of the flame orbs shifting around him to a blue. “But I ... can make you ... Suffer.” He chuckled darkly, his voice echoing, distorted by a cacophony of whispers.
Grimclaw raced for the door, throwing it open and locking it behind him in an act of true cowardice, leaving his fellow soldiers to die there as they faced the inevitable fury of Celestia’s Ghost. The gryphon who had been manning the blowpipe was not so lucky. Hammer Strike swung his forehoof and the broken chain wrapped around the gryphon’s throat, choking him. With a yank, Hammer Strike pulled him towards the hovering flames, the chain links burning the gryphon’s throat as it clutched to his feathers and skin, searing them together. However, with the ever climbing heat, before Hammer Strike could get any closer, the gryphon’s body exploded into flame. He didn’t even have the chance to scream before it was over and nothing but ash remained sifting to the ground at Hammer Strike’s feet. He spat at the pile that had been the murderous aspiring private before kicking it into the air with a furious snort. He wanted to make them suffer for what they had done. This death was too quick for them. He smiled evilly as he recalled that one last gryphon yet remained unaccounted for.
Turning to the door, he no longer felt a desire to stay in the room. His mind was burning as he felt the fury surging through him. Moving forward, he figured it would be locked. So, rearing back with his right foreleg wreathed in flame, he slammed the door, punching with all his might. The bolt hadn’t even offered resistance and it snapped in two from the impact before swinging outwards. Then the hinges tore off the wall, taking two large chunks of stone with them as the heavy metal door crashed into the opposing wall, imprinting itself there and fusing to the stone as the semi-molten metal cooled against it. “Oh Grimbeak,” He called, his voice echoing like the toll of death. “I am coming for you. And oh, you are going to pay.” A dark smile passed over his muzzle as an almost maniacal laugh issued from his throat. They would all pay. The flames wreathed his body, surging into the stones around him as he walked, leaving melted hoof prints in the stone as the walls slowly turned to slag around him.
Celestia rubbed her hooves together as she sat in her throne. She had been quick to pass off Grif’s message as a minor problem before, but it had been over a week and there had still been no word from Hammer Strike. The solar princess was beginning to contemplate sending the royal army to assist the gryphon when she felt ... herself speaking from within the gryphon borders.
“Madre de mio!” Celestia cried, feeling the energy as she stared out in the direction of it’s source.
Shertugal lay less than a mile ahead of them. Grif looked behind him at the assembled mercenaries and pony soldiers. He was about to address them when a pony pointed to the military location.
“Should it be smoking that much?”
Grif looked back to the fortress to see a giant pillar of smoke coming from the fortress, a pillar that had not been present a few moments ago. Grif paused a moment as he watched the oily black column billow to the skies. It was enough even to make Haymin pause and admire its size. Throwing all caution to the winds, Grif cried aloud. “Screw it. CHARGE!” He signalled the troops, taking to the air and B-lining for the fortress. Haymin, being the larger and faster of the two, flew off ahead of him only to circle around the fortress and return.
“What are you doing? We need you to get them in a panic!” Grif shouted.
“There are none to panic. I see no resistance,” Haymin said in response.
“That shouldn’t be possible. That’s a high security fortress.” Grif let out a shrill cry, trying to signal Shrial.
Far in the distance, an answering eagle’s call came back as a small speck appeared along the horizon, gradually drawing closer. Shrial, in full battle armor, her short sword gleaming, came soaring in, looking for all the world like a valkyrie. “What is it? Why have you given the signal to stop?”
“Shrial, the dragon says there are no gryphons along the outer walls, nor the inner courtyard. He claims there's no resistance.” Grif said.
“That is not possible. This fortress is stronger even than Fort Triumph. The Gryphons would not abandon their posts so easily. To do so would mean death at the hands of the Emperor, himself.”
“Shrial, I want you to get me four pegasi and return here. Tell the rest to approach the fort, but keep a safe distance until I call. Something isn’t right here,” Grif said. “Haymin, I wIll honor our deal, but i require you to keep flying around the fortress, lest something happens”
“I will get the four you have requested, and relay your orders. But you had better not try to enter that fortress without me. I am not letting you enter that place alone.” She fixed him with a determined gaze before launching herself into the air, streaking like a bolt from its crossbow back to the camp. If there was one thing that could be said about her, she was one Tartarus of a flyer. A few minutes later, she streaked back. Four pegasi trailed behind her, panting as they tried to catch up. They eyed Haymin warily as he circled the perimeter of the fort.
“I hope you colts had a good breakfast, cause we might just be dining in Tartarus tonight,” Grif said. Ten minutes later they landed in the inner courtyard of the fortress. Grif had his blades out and looked around carefully. “There are an awful lot of burn marks here,” he noted, Eying the hoof prints burnt into the ground and the warped stone and piles of slag dotting the courtyard. There were no bodies, but plenty of ash piles lay stacked randomly within the base. Some lay lines, others in rows.
“What did this?” Shrial asked in awe. “It looks like a dragon ran through here. But not even dragon fire can melt solid stone.”
“Dragonfire can’t disintegrate bone either,” Grif said, bending to an ash pile and scooping some up he sniffed it. “This was a gryphon.”
Shrial stared in horror, her beak agape. “What creature could possibly have such power?” She nearly trembled, but barely held it off, remembering her training. She must not show weakness.
“In order? Ra, Amaterasu, Bahamut, Faust, Celestia, and… Hammer Strike,” Grif noted the last name with hesitation. “And only one of those is mortal.”
“This … this came from him?” She took in the damage. “It is no wonder he is called Celestia’s Ghost.”
Grif looked to the pegasi. “Fly back and tell them there will be no battle. Send the unicorns in to get this place cooled down and then tell the mercs they can start searching for loot,” Grif ordered. The pegasi sped away as fast as their wings could take them. He turned to shrial “You should go back too. I honestly don’t know what I’ll find in there, but Hammer Strike would never hurt me.”
“I am not leaving you without backup,” She said, glaring stubbornly.
“Fair enough,” Grif said, sheathing his sword. He removed his weapon harness and his stilettos. “Might not want to have too much metal on you in there. Things could get hot,” he said, removing his chestplate and putting it beside his weapons.
“Very well.” Shrial nodded, following her teacher’s example.
The two entered the fortress following the hoofprints. Much like Grif had predicted, it grew steadily hotter the further in they went. Grif’s pace began to slow as his breathing became slightly erratic, wringing his talons nervously. In his mind, fire flashed before his eyes in the wood stove in front of him, the match book still held in his smoking hands. The stinging pain crawled into his hands and his face, his eyebrows and mustache singed by the sudden blast. Grif stopped for a moment to try and get a bearing on himself.
“Are you alright?” Shrial asked, concern on her face. She knew these signs, but to see them in a mighty warrior like Grif … it did not seem possible.
“I… I’ll be fine,” he said, taking several deep breaths. The gryphon eventually managed to stand up straight. “I had a bad experience with heat,” he said. “That’s all I need to say right now.” Grif breathed deeply and began pushing forward again.
“I hear breathing. There is someone alive down there.”
“Then thats where we’re headed,” Grif said. “Cause there will only be one person alive in this base unless they had children here. But if your description was right, any children that were here found death to be a mercy,” He said, following the sound. They came to a thick oak door lying partially open. A great hoofprint lay burned deep into the wood at the center like an ugly brand..
Carefully opening the door, they found ash scattered about the room before them. But the thing that they focused on most was Hammer Strike. He sat there in the middle of the room, orbs of blue fire hovering in the air around him. His gaze shifted towards them, but they saw no focus in those eyes. They were empty, partially glazed over. Numerous scars and lacerations crisscrossed in a morbid patchwork along his body. Even part of his ear was missing, the blood still flowing and clotting down the side of his muzzle.
Grif winced as he took a step towards his friend. The heat was so intense. So… no, there was no time to think about that. He took another step forward. “Hammer Strike?” he spoke in a clam, level tone.
Hammer Strike turned his gaze over to Grif, his eyes still still unfocused, but a glimmer of something shone briefly. “Grif?” He weakly questioned, squinting his eyes slightly.
“I’m here.” Grif spoke softly. “I came to help you.”
“That is… good. I do not have the energy to fight…” He exhaled in one explosive breath, the orbs of fire surrounding him dimming as if they were being starved of oxygen. Soon they extinguished themselves entirely and all that remained was the light of day filtering through the windows as particles of ash floated like dust motes through the room.
As the heat let up, Grif pushed forward bit by bit until he managed to reach Hammer Strike’s side. Bending down, he stretched out a wing to guide the pony. When Hammer Strike did not respond, Grif looked sternly at his companion, his eyes hard as agates. “Shrial, get him on my back.”
Resolutely, she took the pony in her claws. She hissed. “He is red hot. He needs a physician.” She pulled him up, gritting through the pain, and placed him on Grif’s back.
“He’d do the same for me. I will bear the pain,” Grif said. He winced, but held his ground as he began to move towards the door. “Get the unicorns and Little Willow. And ask the scouts where the nearest hospice is,” Grif ordered as he walked. “Tell the mercenaries to bring everything they find to the courtyard and we will split it up fairly.” He winced again, but kept walking. “And get a message through to Celestia.” Finally, they made their way up the steps and into the courtyard.
A moment later Princess Luna appeared with her war hammer at the ready, words already leaving her muzzle. “Sister, we are here to help…” She paused and widened her eyes. “Grif!” She took in the situation immediately, tears forming in her eyes as she beheld the limp, unseeing form of Hammer Strike before her eyes hardened. “To me. Now. I shall teleport all to Unity for medical treatment.” She turned to face the Dragon. “We shall give thee a portion of our treasure if thou carriest this loot and amy supplies to Unity for the payment of Grif’s Mercenaries.” She closed her eyes, doing her best to remove the images of the blue flames in the courtyard and the magic of Celestia surrounding Hammer Strike. At the moment, she had to focus fully on her task. Once she was in Unity, then she would have time to wonder just what had taken place here.
“Thank you, Princess Luna,” Grif said.
“Thou art welcome,” She responded. “Now be ready. A teleportation of this magnitude might be a little disturbing to mortals. There is no time to waste,” She spoke, eyes still closed. Her horn lit up as a strange, almost indescribable feeling pressed down upon all present. A moment later a dark blue flash lit up the skies like a beacon. When it cleared, the courtyard was devoid of life and a field was suddenly down one army. Haymin shrugged, groaned, complained about the lack of a down payment, then finally got to work.
The Unity hospice was a blur with activity from the moment the group had arrived. Even as ponies moved to work on Lord Hammer Strike, Grif was forced to stay on a cot, his entire back wrapped in bandages and poultice. The gryphon twitched anxiously, attempting to rise to his feet.
“I should go check what they think is wrong,” Grif said, moving to stand.
“You are staying right where you belong until those wounds heal.” Shrial said, her eyes like steel as she pushed him back down.
“They’re just second degree burns,” Grif grumbled.
“All over your back. You need to rest or else you’ll scar. I can check on Lord Hammer Strike. You need to get some sleep.”
“We both know the nurses will never say anything to you,” Grif said. “Have you contacted pensword? Lunar Fang?” Grif asked.
“I’ll convince them,” She said darkly. “As for the others, they’re on their way.
“Two days,” Grif said. “Then we head out again. We still got more names to hunt.”
“You will not be doing any combat until those burns heal properly. The names can wait until then. Besides, your Lord needs you now more than ever before.”
“I made a promise,” Grif said. “I can’t break it.”
“You are not. I will take over your duties if I must. You must rest.”
“Of all the gryphons, I had to let you live,” Grif grumbled, defeated.
It would take two days before Grif was allowed to get to his feet. He was just going for his first walk in that time to stretch his sore and stiff legs when Luna teleported Pensword and Lunar Fang into his room.
Pensword looked around the room and made a grimace at the conditions of the Hospice. “Not sterile.” He muttered in Dragonic. “Not clean.” He looked to Grif and his expression turned to one of worry as he saw the bandages. “Can I walk with thee?” he asked. He looked him in the eyes as they made their way down the halls. “I hereby give you verbal orders. Rest. The lives on that list can wait. I want you to fly and live and become strong again. Once you are discharged from the hospital and are fighting fit, then you may hunt again.” He sighed and his expression saddened. “It hurts to see my friends like this. Have you thought of a destination for your first walk?”
“Only one place to go,” Grif said as he walked. Stopping before a sectioned off room, he placed a claw on the door. “This won’t be pretty,” he warned.
“It was not pretty looking at my post op pictures,” He reminded his friend. “Nor the pictures they took of the operation itself.” He nodded to Lunar Fang who had remained silent and worried, unsure of what to say.
“I wasn’t referring to his physical pain.” Grif pushed the door open gently and entered.
They found Hammer Strike sitting in a bed looking forward out the window in front of him, though they couldn’t tell if he was actually looking or not. His eyes were glazed over. His body was wrapped in bandages from his forehooves to his chests. His right ear was bandaged at the tip, but it was obvious that a piece of his ear was missing. Anything below his chest was covered by a blanket, even though the room was plenty warm.
“Hammer Strike?” Grif spoke softly. When he got no response, he tried again, this time in Draconic. “Shawn?”
Hammer Strike started, then slowly turned to face the door, his eyes still unfocused. Despite his appearance, his friends could still tell he was paying attention. “Yes?” he asked softly.
Pensword stood rigidly in the doorway as Lunar Fang snuck into the room by his side. She was starting to show a little around the belly. She paused at the venom she heard in Pensword’s voice struck her still. “If any Gryphons escaped your wrath, so help them, I shall hunt them down myself.” His eyes narrowed and sharpened, revealing more of his thestral heritage as he snorted in rage. “They shall pay for what they did to my friend.”
Grif smiled a bit. “How’s my godbaby?” he asked, not turning to look at Lunar Fang.
Lunar Fang turned to look at Grif, shaken from Pensword’s words. “The baby is doing well. I have a few more months left of being able to fight. At least till the end of the year.”
“The gryphons…” Hammer Strike said, trailing slightly at the end before he paused.
“They were all gone.” Grif said. “You got them all.”
Hammer Strike nodded slowly. “Yeah…”
“How did they get you?” Grif asked.
“It was…” Hammer paused. “A trap...” The temperature in the room began to rise as Hammer Strike’s eyes focused, a glow starting up as blue fire trailed from his eyes. A snarl took shape on his muzzle as he spoke his next words. “Promethean Flame.” He growled, starting to move forward before his eyes flickered back to normal. He sighed and fell back into the bed, taking a few breaths as his eyes lost focus again.
Grif’s eyes flashed light blue, then dark blue, then for a moment, completely white. “I am going to unalive him very, very, VERY slowly,” Grif’s tone was darker than ever.
Pensword looked stricken and terrified as he saw the flames. He moved on instinct to stand between Hammer Strike and his wife. When his Lord had fallen back in bed and the fires died, he paused and growled. “I shall see what I can do about him. I shall make sure he meets his downfall.”
Lunar Fang moved a wing to protect her mate and husband. “Hammer Strike, may we look at your gear? I believe your words, but we need evidence for this. Thou art… one could say addled.”
“...Letter. In left bag...” Hammer Strike sighed.
Pensword looked to Hammer Strike and stepped to his side. “Get better, my friend. We shall not act till you are well.” He chuckled a little. “He shall be getting a visit from all of us soon. Is that acceptable to you, my friend?”
“Not if I get to him…” He sighed again, trying to contain his anger. “First…”
A moment later, many muffled shouts echoed down the corridor with clopping hooves running at breakneck speed. In mere moments Celestia burst into the room, panting, her mane askew. “Is it true? Is he …?”
“Oh look, everybody,” Grif turned on her instantly. “The mighty princess Sunbutt graces us with her presence now! She took time from her high and mighty duties to visit Hammer Strike after he’s been through everything. Tell me, Sunbutt, does he look fine too you? Is this how you remember Lord Hammer Strike being? IS THIS THE PICTURE OF FINE?” Grif’s breathing was heavy as he glared at her with an anger that would be spoken of in the whispers of legend for centuries to come.
Pensword stood frozen in shock at his friend’s actions. He moved a wing to try and do something to protect Princess Celestia, but he knew that if anything to harm her was going to happen, it would have already been done. He was more worried now that he had failed as commander of the armed forces.
Fire sparked in Celestia’s eyes, but one look at Hammer Strike and she slumped in defeat, tears streaming down her cheeks. Her voice was hollow and ragged. “How could this have happened? Nothing could defeat Hammer Strike … nothing. Even as foals, he … he ...” She lost all composure at this point, rushing to where Hammer Strike sat, taking his hoof in hers and weeping openly.
Grif made his way to the door. “Sometimes the world isn’t the same as when you're a foal. Maybe you need to grow up and rule this country rather than counting on him to save you when something goes wrong.” The gryphon slammed the door behind him as he left.
Celestia turned, tears still standing in her eyes, the streaks darkening her pristine fur. Her horn ignited with rage, alicorn magic streaming forth, her eyes glowing white. Her body glowed brightly as she fought to contain the canterlot voice that ached to fly. “Who did this to you? What did they use? For this crime, I will not rest until the ones responsible are in ashes.” Heat rolled off of her body and into the room.
Pensword shuffled nervously. “From what I gathered, they are already ash,” he responded. “The entire Gryphon fortress is empty and nothing but ash remains of those that were inside.” He paused and looked to Lunar Fang, nodding as she moved to grab the letter that Hammer Strike mentioned for them to look at. As she did so, Pensword moved to speak to his princess. “There is one other thing, however. Considering the situation, it would do poorly if thou wert to be involved in vengeance. We need to do this ourselves. Thou hast a war to run, and an enemy that should feel that rage a little more. Even now we are working to purge the enemy from the land. Next week we shall have three armies march into Gryphon territory to capture and siege towns, Castles, and Outposts. We shall move forward.”
“Peace!” Celestia snapped. “He is saying something.”
Hammer Strike mumbled softly, barely above a whisper.
Lunar Fang leaned close to Hammer Strike, her ears turned towards his mouth to pick up his words.
“...Daggers, maces, swords, cut my ear, killed ponies in front of me, used toxins, Iceberg Ivy, Nershock Powder, Blind Root, Mute Shroom, Sensory Deprivation Powder. Poisons: Gorgon's Blood, Black Lotus Flower, Manticore Venom, Ogre Drool, Flames of Tartarus.” He stopped after the last one, the room darkening as Lunar Fang turned pale. A rumble filled the room as Celestia began to tremble in rage.
Pensword paused as a uniformed soldier entered and whispered a few words into his ear and pulled away. “Princess, Milord, I am sorry but I have some meetings that must be taken care of at the moment at the House of Nobles. Seems that Commander of the Military means a few meetings with some of the forces in Unity. I am sorry. I shall visit when I am done with them.” He gave a salute to those present and left the room, but not before giving a kiss on Lunar Fang’s cheek.
Lunar Fang had gone silent from repeating the poisons when she heard the last name. She looked at Celestia. “The Flames of Tartarus.” She said. “The poison they used to try and kill Luna.”
Celestia turned, stricken as she made her way to the window. With a mighty cry, she let loose a bolt of pure alicorn magic to the sky, detonating it with the force of a solar flare. It didn’t make her feel any better, but at least the room would not have to bear the brunt of her fury. No, that would be channelled in a better way. She whirled violently back, her tail smacking the wall. Tiny cracks webbed out from the point of impact.“We must expunge the toxins immediately. Everyone, get out.” Lunar Fang moved to respond. “Get … out.” Celestia said through gritted teeth. “And take the bags with you. It is going to get very, very hot in here.”
Lunar Fang moved quickly to retrieve the bags before making her way out of the room.
“Lunar Fang!” Shrial came flying down the corridor, her wings fully extended. “We have a problem. Grif has left the compound. He’s out there alone!”
Grif bee-lined for the border, not stopping for anything. His back itched a bit under the bandages, but he would live with it. Right now something needed to die. Fortunately, thermals and winds in his favor were common and the gryphon found himself gliding over the border in less than three hours. With a single minded charge he corrected his course for the fortress of desolation. Most likely his mercenaries were still assembled there and little willow would be able to patch him up fine.
He never bothered to check his distance between the outposts or forts as he went, and as such, never realised the danger he was in till several pricks stabbed through his neck. Grif attempted to hold himself steady as the drugs kicked into his system, but eventually the darkness claimed him.
Pensword sat at the desk, taking a breath in and out before any of the nobles could arrive. He did not like the fact that he was being pulled in different directions back in Unity. He was, as a saying back home went, chomping at the bit to get back to Triumph. He paused and pondered if he should rename it. He almost didn’t want to change it. He looked at the walls of the meeting hall. On one end of the rectangular room a painting of Princess Celestia stood proudly. On the other end Princess Luna stood hovering with her mace aloft before the full moon. Both wore their Royal regalia and along with their weapons, they bore the symbols of their power and reign. The table in the middle of the room was set out so that Pensword could sit at the head of the table, being the Commander.
Pensword impatiently tapped his hoof against the table. Once again he looked to the pocket watch that had been given to him and eyed the time. He groaned in consternation.
“Fifteen minutes late. Are they trying to waste my time?” Shaking his head, he was at last rewarded for his patience as a grand fanfare of trumpets echoed from within the halls. The great double doors of the hall slowly flung open as the heads of houses Pansy, Cookie, Ruby, Sapphire, Blade, and Flame walked in at a stately pace, their robes billowing behind them magically for added effect. Pensword rolled his eyes as they each strolled to their appointed seats, their eyes shifting. Some glared at the commander, others looked nervously back to Promethean Flame. Promethean Flame, himself, stood smirking with a look of absolute confidence and superiority on his face. As one, they sat down as Pensword banged his hoof on the gavel.
“Very well, what is this? I received word from thee that you have grave news and information that would concern the entire Military. I hope you have your information in order because I shall not take wasted time kindly. My wife is with child and I would like to spend the little time we have while our business seems to have landed up in Unity at this point in time.”
He looked to the hourglass in the middle of the table. “Colonel Jade Sphere, please set the timer.” The colonel did so, flipping the hourglass while holding the sand with his magic. Pensword nodded his thanks, then glared at the assemblage. “If you have not gotten to the point by the time the sand runs out I shall end this meeting under my authority and you may try again the day after tomorrow.” He focused his glare on each noble as the sand was released. “Now, begin.”
“Well, commander pensword,” Shortbread Cookie started. The cookie house probably would be the one pensword had to fear the least at the moment. “It has come to our attention that you are currently in control of the pass leading to Equestria’s coasts, which was formerly controlled by the gryphons. I am sure you are aware that past these mountains is the currently disputed border, as well as the ports in the south where our trade with Zebrica is handled.”
Pensword’s ear twitched. “Is this what this meeting is about? Trade agreements?” He looked to each lord, his eyes sparking with anger. “If you did not read my letter, I shall say it right here. The pass, when we win the war, shall remain open to all noble houses and Merchants to use. I have no plans to exclude any from its use. The fortress shall most likely become a trading hub. I shall not favor any noble over another. Let the market decide that. My forces are to protect against bandits in the passes and that is all. Am I understood? That is one warning. Three warnings shall end the meeting no matter what time is left.”
“We have heard some rather disturbing rumors, Commander Pensword.” Jade Sphere said, switching to another tack as he choked through the title, glaring at the pegasus. He still smarted from being put in the stocks by Grif. “And we desire to hear clarification. Word has reached our ears that something has happened to Lord Hammer Strike. Is this true? And if so, what has occurred?”
Pensword furrowed his brow. “Yes.” He said heavily. He eyed each pony gravely, then spoke. “This news is not to leave the room. Do you understand?” The lords nodded. They all knew just how dangerous the wrong information could be if it reached the common populace. “We have reason to believe that the Gryphons somehow caught Lord Hammer Strike on the front lines.” Pensword shifted a little in his place. Many of the Lords were about to speak, but he beat them to the punch, pounding the silver plate for attention. “However,” Pensword said plainly, a defensive look covering his muzzle, “before any plan on challenging my land and legal claims due to inheritance of titles is begun, let me state this now. I am considered fully a member of House Hurricane by adoption. This adoption is final and bears the seal of approval from both Princess Celestia and Princess Luna.” He looked at each of the Nobles individually to ensure that information had sunk in properly. Many ponies exhaled, dropping whatever it was they were about to say. Pensword smiled in satisfaction. “Now then, with that said, let us return to the matter at hand. Lord Flame? You wished to comment?”
Promethean looked indignantly at the upstart bat bird, but held his tongue. Instead, he let the thought of Hammer Strike in Gryphon hands lift his spirits. He barely kept the smug smile from crossing his muzzle as he spoke. “That would explain his failure to rendezvous with me when I requested a meeting in my tent.” Flawless. The stupid brute from the caves would never suspect a thing.
“I am sorry that he failed to meet, as thou knowest, Lord Hammer Strike is very punctual in his own manner.” He looked at the group. “I am going to guess you have a problem with Lord Hammer Strike missing? Please note that I am currently shifting resources around to not only find him, but ensure his swift return to Equestria.”
“What are we to do without him? If he truly is captured, the Gryphons will grow more bold, desiring to conquer and destroy our nation. They will begin hunting our subjects again.” Jade spoke, slamming his hoof on the table. “I will not have it!”
“Or the Gryphons shall find that they have picked off more than they can swallow.” Pensword paused and chuckled. “Do you know what they call Lord Hammer Strike?” he asked them as he noticed the sands about to run out. He cocked his head inquisitively, debated, then nodded his head as if he were deciding something. “Seems that this is more of a question session than an emergency meet, but I shall stay and hear thee out. So, tell me. Does any noble know what the Gryphons call Lord Hammer Strike?”
Each of the nobles looked to one another, confused as they shook their heads. At last, Jade Sphere and Noble Sharp nodded, looking to Promethean Flame. He gave a brief nod and the two spoke. “We have heard of a certain name from Hammer Strike’s pet …” Noble Sharp said.
“After being exposed to indecencies no lord should face,” Jade Sphere added.
“He is called Celestia’s Ghost, is he not?”
Pensword smiled and nodded his head. “Yes, Celestia’s Ghost. Tell me, what is something a ghost cannot do?” He asked before waving a hoof. “To save time, I shall answer my own question. A Ghost cannot die.” He narrowed his eyes. “Lord Hammer Strike shall be found and till then I shall lead the troops as bestowed by Princess Celestia and Princess High Chieftess Luna.” He placed both hooves together and peered over them. Anyone from earth would recognize a pony attempting to steeple one’s hands and glare over the peak formed by the fingers. It did not work very well for Pensword, but he attempted it all the same. “Tell me. There is something else here that is bothering you. I am in a good mood; I have been helping to dispel myths and give facts. Please, speak.”
“We just want to make sure the stability of equestria and it’s trade in the time of this…” prometheans tone almost made pensword shiver in disgust “horrible crisis.”
“I assure thee that as long as I draw breath in my lungs, Equestria’s stability is at the forefront of my mind.” Pensword’s expression darkened. “At the moment, even my wife’s safety comes second to that of us surviving this war.” He mentally chuckled. He already knew that his wife would remain safe and alive till the very end. She would vanish mysteriously, no body found. He had a pretty good idea what that meant. “Do you question my ability?” Pensword asked, pulling out of his thoughts and back into the meeting. “I took the Fortress Triumph without a single casualty. I only lost three lives due to accidents after the fall of the Fortress.”
“We acknowledge your feats of strength, which are many indeed, young Pensword. You are a formidable warrior and have proven yourself. What we fear is that with Hammer Strike missing, the command structure of his house will fall apart along with that of his soldiers. A steward must be appointed immediately to ensure chaos is kept at bay.” Ruby said gruffly, his battle scars eminent on his golden coat, ugly red crosses scattered along his flanks the color of blood.
“And what with Hammer Strike’s pet gryphon behind enemy lines likely doing who knows what, there is no way he can be a viable steward for the house. I suppose Hammer Strike’s aid could have been, but you married her. And now she is ineligible as a member of house hurricane.” Promethean sat back, smirking.
“Who was his steward during his last leave?” Pensword asked coolly, perfectly composed. “Has it not been said that a Strike has been seen in history before? That the two sisters see Lord Hammer Strike differently than any noble in Equestria?”
“The house went dormant for hundreds of years,” shortbread cookie said in earnest. “It is the only house that is even as remotley as old as the founders. We must be sure to keep it safe for future generations.”
“Who kept it safe this last time?” Pensword pressed again, this time more forcefully. “Come now, surely that knowledge would be known by the high nobles of this table.” He said, allowing himself a small smirk.
“The last line of stewards was the line of Ore. They died out a hundred and ninety years ago when Iron Ore died childless,” shortbread spoke up finally.
“So, I would assume that as I am, or was, his military leader,” he pulled a scroll from his satchel and placed it on the table. “That I shall be the next steward. And should I die and my wife be unable to inherit, or my children, the holdings shall be managed by Lord Duke Hurricane,” he spoke, invoking his new adoptive father’s title. He preferred and respected military ranks, but in this case, he knew that the situation required a title the Lords would respect more. “Lord Hammer Strike’s house is in good order.” He spoke, striking the gavel with a hoof. “Any other matters to bring to my attention?”
The room burst into loud uproars as the lords began shouting about Pensword’s attempted coup d'etat of House Strike. Promethean sat smugly across from Pensword, smiling victoriously.
Pensword’s left ear twitched as the noise rose. He distinctly heard several of the lords questioning if he was even worthy to hold the rank of Commander. He rose to his hooves, unnoticed by all but Promethean Flame. He barely managed to contain his rage as he coldly eyed the lords in their arguments. A second later his hoof crashed upon the metal disk with a clap of thunder as his voice echoed across the room, shaking the very paintings on their mounts. “SILENCE!”
The room stared, hushed at his figure. He stood there, a tower of fury and strength. “Dost thou wish to see my authority? Did I not just use the Royal Canterlot Voice? Would one not worthy of this rank be able to command the voice itself?” He asked. “I know the legends as well as thee. That while a Commander may be called by the nobles, it is truly one as rare as the First Hurricane that can use that voice.” He mentally was thankful that the two sisters had shown him the trick. He watched them all. “I do not wish to be steward in this time of absence. I have enough trouble running the nation’s military as it is. That is why I have already asked one of the Hurricanes’ lesser soldiers to help manage it. Once we find Lord Hammer Strike, he shall receive a small plot of land on the coastal region already promised to the Hurricane House. Sergeant Blueblood will be the Steward of the House. Not I, nor my wife, nor my unborn child. Not even any of the Hurricanes proper will run the house in Lord Hammer Strike’s absence. It is to be a Military soldier from Hurricane’s forces that proved himself worthy of this task.” He looked angrily at the nobles. “Any other objections?” He snorted steam into the cool air of the castle. The nobles stood, dumbfounded. “Good. If not, this meeting is over. You are dismissed.”
He glared at each lord as they filed out the room, the hot air having thoroughly been let out of them. Their capes draped over their forms and dragged along the floor, no longer so grand as bits of straw and dust clung to the edges. Only Promethean Flame dared to meet his gaze as he left, giving a glare of his own.
“This is not over, bat bird.”
“Perhaps. But it will be.” Pensword returned. “Good day, Promethean.” He motioned with a hoof and two unicorn guards appeared. “Noble Mane, Shining Horn, I would like you two to escort his Lordship home. It is unwise for such a high ranking lord to be unguarded, especially now of all times.” Promethean tried to protest, but Pensword cut him off, raising a hoof. “No, no, I insist, Lord Promethean. It is the least I can do. You are a high ranking individual after all. I am certain the Gryphons will likely target you next. I would recommend keeping a detachment of soldiers nearby and out of sight from now on. For your own protection, of course. You never know what enemies might be lurking in the shadows, waiting for revenge.” Promethean’s eyes widened. His lips twitched, but he said nothing as he walked out with the guards. He had no choice but to leave the castle immediately. Pensword smirked at the look of indignation. But more delicious yet was the spark of fear behind the arrogant lord’s eyes. A few minutes later, Pensword stood looking out the window. He could see a small dust cloud billowing from the gates, a smudge of red occasionally emerging from it. Two unicorns lagged behind, struggling to keep up as the figure ran.
“Well now, I would say that went rather well, wouldn’t you?.” Pensword said to Jade Sphere as the pony guard joined him at the window. The two stared at one another a few minutes, their expressions blank as they watched the retreating form. A few seconds later the halls of Unity echoed with laughter.
Grif awoke slowly. His talons were chained above his head and his wings were weighted. His vision swam slowly, but as he recovered, he made out a large grey gryphon standing before him. This gryphon was not dressed in armor, nor was he carrying any weapons. Rather, a green robe covered his body. A large wooden talisman hung from his neck, decorated with runic symbols carved deeply into the wood in a spiral pattern around the center, linking to a circular chain of runes. Closer examination revealed a chunk of green glass at the core with an eagle feather suspended inside. Grif’s blood ran cold as he stared at the figure, realizing just who he was up against.
Gryphons on their own were unable to cast magic as unicorns could. But this did not mean their society was without magic itself. All creatures on equis held a field of magic inside them. Through careful study, the gryphons had figured out how to draw out and influence this energy via talismans made from the embodiments of elemental qualities. The eagle’s feather, for example, represented the winds which the bird ruled over. Gryphon evokers where fearsome in their own right, if a little weak on the direct battle field. But all Gryphondom, whether of the Northern Isles, or the empire itself, knew just how dangerous these evokers could be.
As Grif came to full consciousness he could see many more gryphons surrounding him dressed similarly, but in large hooded robes that concealed their faces. He clenched talons, longing to wield his twin blades.
“It must be said that I am surprised, but not unhappy with this opportunity.” The old evoker smiled. “I am Veilfire, lead evoker for the Gryphonian military.” The Gryphon bowed his head. “I am sure you are a bit confused as to why you are here, seeing as the emperor has ordered your live capture to be a first priority. But, you see my stupid brutish friend, that is exactly why you are here. Tell me, do you know what happens when one's internal magical field is destroyed?”
Grif opened his beak, but was cut off. “No, no, of course you don’t. I will try to dumb this down as much as possible for you.” Grif glared at the insult, but Veilfire continued without noticing or caring, circling the captive gryphon like a schoolmaster teaching a hatchling how to pull his crossbow. “Inside everyone is an energy we call the magical field. When this magical field gets filled too far, it shatters, much like a goblet whose water has frozen.” The old gryphon smiled. “When that happens, the subject loses their will, their ambitions, their dreams. It is very much like a waking coma from what I am told. Now, what we plan to do here is to break your magical field so we may march you into the capital and present you to the emperor without chains or any other form of bond. The disgrace that would be engendered for appearing to simply give up so easily will make the perfect touch for your execution.”
Veilfire sneered as he looked on his captive. “Now, I do not believe in lying about this sort of thing. The process will be excruciating and the extra energy surging through your body will not allow you to pass out. On the plus side, I do hope the knowledge you are contributing to the field of magical study will bring you some comfort. Though I seriously doubt it.” He chuckled darkly as the green eagle feather core of his talisman began to glow.
Grif said nothing, only glaring at the gryphon in front of him. The wind began to pick up around him. “For this process, we are going to be using wind magic, as it will take the longest to fill your field. We shall then get to see just how much you can take before your field shatters like glass.” The gryphon set his talons onto the talisman on his neck. Grif could just make out the sixth talon on his right hand. The wind picked up around Grif and began to evolve into a swirling vortex with him at its center. It became hard to breathe. The pressure became intense and for a few moments he felt like something was pushing back against it. But as the pressure increased, this invisible barrier began to crack. And with that cracking, pain began to enter Grif’s body. As the barrier finally shattered, every nerve in Grif’s body cried out in agonizing pain. To his credit, he managed not to scream for a whole ten minutes.
Pensword sat in his private office and glared at his report. “Grif, you idiot.” He growled. “Am I surrounded by death eaters?” he asked the empty room. “Hammer Strike comes back from capture and now Grif is out there, missing, and I assume also captured.” He sat down and looked at the desk. “I wonder if I can militarily order them to stay put?” He paused and sighed. “Then I would have to court martial them for disobeying direct orders.” He sighed again and put his head into a hoof. “I do not want to look up and see them like Mom and Dad.”
He looked up as an aid walked in. “If you are here to report that Lunar Fang is missing, Hammer Strike has left the hospital without discharge, or that some other member of my military has gone off on their own to do Luna knows what, I do not want to hear it.”
The aid shuffled and moved to the side as Hammer Strike walked in. This time normal clothing donned his barrel. Bandages still wrapped him like a mini mummy in the more sensitive parts as the salves and potions continued their work. Pensword looked at his friend. “Couch. Sit down. NOW. Then we can talk while I get you some tea.” He turned around and prepared a hot pot of water, taking the kettle from where it hung over the open flame on its tripod. He looked up. “You will not leave this room unless I am with you. I am not losing you again. You came to find me. Let me do the same for you.” He finished as he pulled a drawer open and pulled out a stick. He picked up a knife, cut some of the bark, and stuck it in his mouth. He chewed it a little before pausing to speak. “Cane Sugar. It was either pick this up or finally accept a tobacco pipe from Zebrica.”
“The better choice...” He heard Hammer Strike say.
“Yeah, I would agree, I never could stand the smell of smoke on Earth.” He sighed. “However, I have picked up a habit I have trouble keeping away from.” He nodded his head to the tea set being delivered. “Tea.” He moved to sit on the couch and looked to his friend. “What blend do you want, my friend?” he asked as he talked around his cane sugar, looking for all the world like a soldier with a cigar.
“Any.”
“Very well, some nice Camomile tea would do you well. Amazing how it is called the same here and back home,” he replied with a chuckle as he pulled a small tea box out and put the tea together before placing it into the hot water to let it steep. “Now, I would not be surprised if you could drink that all in a couple of gulps. Heat does not bother you, it seems.” He paused and frowned as he saw his friend’s glazed expression. Pensword’s left hoof shook. “He will pay. Once we are together, we shall request a personal war, house to house.”
“Agreed.” Pensword muttered around his cane sugar. “Would you like any?” he asked his friend, moving a hoof to the cane sugar stalk. “I can get you some.”
“Nyet.”
“Da.” Pensword muttered in response. He chuckled a little.
“Where is my equipment...?” Hammer Strike asked.
“Secure in our shared quarters.” He replied. “Which you shall be sharing. From what I have seen, I do not know what will come next. If thou wantest, I shall get some of your gear you have left in Unity to thee quickly. However, I ask thee to stay put and let us help.”
“Defense is a step to take.” Hammer muttered. “To feel safe.”
“We shall do so.” Pensword replied. “It shall be defensive. However, it shall not be to the point of paranoia. I cannot fully cut myself off from others, and there shall be times when we shall have meetings, do not worry my friend. Also, I have heard a nice rumor.” He leaned in as he waited for the tea to be ready. “Sergeant Blueblood has been seen near a certain mare Thestral recently, same one that Grif mentioned teaching him to beat a drum.” He leaned back. “I wonder how they would react to us knowing this?”
“In an amusing way.”
“I agree.” Pensword replied as he paused and whittled away at his cane sugar before returning to chewing on it. “I look forward to when this war is finished. We can return to our lives.” He shook his head. “However, I doubt I could return to my old life.” He looked at a hoof. “Strike… can you and the Princess look into making a magic guise of my old body for this body?” he asked. “I miss fingers, yet I have spent almost the same amount of time on four legs as on two.” A slight chuckle escaped his mouth. “I wonder what a dentist would say about my teeth when we return.”
“Question your eating habits.”
“How so?” Pensword shot back with a blanked confused look.
“Only dentist I know is an herbivore.”
That brought a hearty laugh from Pensword that lasted a good three minutes. He couldn’t even tell if it was Pensword or Matthew laughing.
“Where is Lunar Fang?” Hammer Strike asked.
“She is currently reviewing the City defenses. Celestia is wishing to use what you made for Fillydelphia and have it replicated for the other cities as well. So she is helping oversee the dissemination of that information to the rest of the messengers to be sent to the other cities. And before you say anything else, she is using your blueprints. You gave her permission to look into your bag.”
“Celestia and Luna?”
“They are both currently meeting at their castle. I do not know what about,” he admitted. “I may be the Commander, but I am not privy to all the conversations of the Princesses. They deserve some privacy.”
“And where ... is Grif?”
Pensword sighed as he looked out the window at the night sky. He turned to his desk and the final reports. He was hoping to be done soon, to go home and snuggle with his wife. He smirked, realizing that when they got back to the Present they would only be needing one bed and not two, or else having a mattress at the base of the bed like it was at the tavern. He sat down and picked up a quill pen to finish the report. He looked up at the painting of Luna and Celestia on the other side of the room before looking back down at the parchment to finish his work.
“Boy!” a voice called, breaking the stillness of the night. It sounded heavily of years and experience and had an inviting, gravelly tone to it. “If you can hear me then look at me.”
Pensword looked up, startled, and then a little concerned. The room was empty. That could mean only one thing. “Who are you? Identify yourself!” His voice rang out as his eyes roved the room. It was moments like this that he was thankful that two Dream Stalkers guarded his office at night. He smirked, recalling the uproar that he had caused among the noble families when they learned that he was employing Thestrals in the very heart of the military. The night was his brothers’ domain and his own in a way. So he felt it only wise to give them a post that suited them best.
Unlike prior visitations, the figure which appeared to him started out very vague. A surprisingly large male gryphon covered in aged grey feathers materialized out of the air, growing more solid as he walked toward the desk. A large crude looking axe lay strapped to his back. His body was riddled with scars from battles past.
Pensword shook his head before standing up. “Yes. I see you now.” He looked suspiciously at the Gryphon. “You are not a Gryphon I recognize from my campaigns. Who are you? And what is your purpose?” He asked. Then realized he was being a little rude. “Forgive me. I am short because I am looking forward to a night with my wife. My apologies.” He took a breath in and held it before letting it out slowly.
“Pay attention, boy.” The Gyphon snapped. “I may not have long. And Grif’s life may be at stake.” He growled. “You are the one they call pensword, aren’t you?”
“Yes, I am Pensword.” He replied. “How can I help?” His expression changed to one of worry and concern. “What do I need to do?”
“A mile north past the border and east by north east seven miles from that spot is the fortress of the arcanium, or the evokers as the residents are called. The gryphon spell casters have captured my son and they intend to break him.” His head drooped. “They are breaking him. I don’t know how long he will last. Grif is strong and stubborn, but he is not unshakable. You must go to him.”
“May I bring a team with me? Or shall I go alone?” Pensword asked.
“You’re supposed to be a commander, boy. Use some sense! Bring your men; bring your army. Just save my son!”
“Good.” Pensword muttered under his breath. “A Sensible Ghost this time.”
“And when you have taken the fortress,” the gryphon spoke as his form began to fade, “Underneath you will find a tomb. Take the treasure for your men. But there will be two blades embedded at the coffin’s feet. When they are reforged, give them to Grif as a gift from the North East Wind.” With that, Graf’s body wholly vanished and a stiff breeze blew out the window into the night air.
Pensword sighed and growled. He quickly cleared his desk and opened the doors to the hallway. “North Star, Night Wind!” The thestrals snapped immediately to attention. “Gather the Thestral Chiefs who remain in the city. Contact High Chieftess Luna. Sound the drums of war. We march.” He turned around and moved to a Green flame lantern. He wrote out a quick message and lit it. He sighed and turned to the open door. “I am bringing my wife this time. We go to save Grif. We shall campaign together. Then she is going straight back to Fillydelphia under the strictest guard.” He quickly marched out the door, already placing his war helm upon his head, the flames of love and rage blazing side by side in his eyes. Outside, the hallways began to fill with the buzz of conversation. Pensword paid it no heed. He was too busy memorizing the directions given by the ghost.
Luna entered Hammer Strike’s study as carefully as she could. Taking a deep breath she began her approach. “Hammer Strike?” she asked, her voice shaking. She heard him hum as he looked towards her, his eyes still unfocused.
She approached him slowly. This was the first time she had gotten to see the damage up close. Her breath caught in her throat as she looked in his eyes. “Oh, teacher.” she said approaching him slowly. In her younger years Hammer Strike had always been this commanding presence for her. Now here he stood, practically hollow.
“Hello, Luna.” He said softly, a tiny smile on his face. “How goes?”
“F...Fine.” She smiled at him as best she could. “The war is going smoothly. It seems the gryphons were not prepared for our strategies.”
“That is good...” He nodded lightly. “What about you?”
“I am fine,” She said. “In truth, I am probably better than I have been in a while. I have missed combat and the battlefield.”
“It does not sound that way...” Hammer Strike commented as he blinked a couple of times.
“I can never hide from you, can I?” She asked. “What was done to you, it ... it worries me. You are the very best of us and look what they did to you,” she said, then continued, her voice nearly a whisper. “And what you did to them. What if I were to crack?”
“There are differences, Luna. I try to teach all I can, but there is one thing you both have yet to think on.”
“I am listening. As I always have, teacher.” Tears stood in her eyes.
“You and your sister have lasted throughout the years. Some would consider you both immortal.” He sighed. “I am not. I can still perish. And some day, I will not be there to help with problems that may arrive. One day, I will pass. For I am only mortal.”
“I…” Luna found herself unable to respond. She gaped in open mouthed disbelief. moment.
“I hate to say it, but I will not be here forever. However, I still have time on my side… I am not old yet.”
A few hours later Luna left the room with much to think about, her eyes resolutely determined. She and her sister had much to discuss. With that thought complete, she disappeared in a flash of moonlight.
Pensword entered Hammer Strike’s room, guards flanking him on either side. He was wearing full battle armor decorated not just with the colors of Equestria, nor the Dream Clan. He wore the colors and ribbons of the captured Gryphon forces as well. It was time to return to active duty once more and he needed Hammer with him. He bowed his head as he approached the stallion. “Last night, I had a visitor. Grif’s father. He told me Grif has been captured and I need all the hooves I can get. Please, save your rage for the fortress. We march in three days.” Pensword turned around and spoke to the guards, his eyes slitted. “You are to accompany him everywhere. You two shall be outside any restroom he uses. Do not leave his sight, but do not get in his way. You answer to me only. No Noble can order you to leave. Is that understood?” A slight smirk appeared on Hammer Strike’s muzzle.
“Yes, Sir.” The two guards replied sharply with a salute. As Pensword turned and left, the two immediately took up their new posts. The one on the left spoke. “I am Lost Shield and this is my brother, Strike Shield. We shall be of as much assistance as we can to you.” Strike Shield nodded his head in acknowledgment, a sly smirk on his muzzle.
Hammer Strike only nodded before heading out a side door that led into his private study: a study that had one way in, and no windows. They looked to each other, confused. “Why did he go in there?” Strike Shield asked his brother.
“Maybe to get one of his weapons?” Lost Shield answered with a raised eyebrow. “We are moving out in three days.” He looked to the other side where Pensword left. “I feel almost sorry for the Gryphons. They have no idea what is marching toward them.”
A moment later they heard the sound of heavy hoofsteps and the familiar clink of metal shifting around. Soon after, the door opened to reveal Hammer Strike. The two guards paused and turned to look at their charge. They gaped, not even turning away as he continued to walk towards them. “And I just thought he was stomping around in anger in there,” Lost Shield muttered.
The armor Hammer Strike wore was larger than anything they had ever seen, raising him to a height above that of Celestia herself. He looked like some creature that had been carved out of molten steel and cooled rapidly. The torso was covered by large interlocked, overlapping plates that flowed up to a massive metal collar around the neck. His shoulders were covered by pauldrons comprised by three overlapping plates, allowing them to bend downwards to fully cover the joint while still granting free movement. The plates covering his back carried two large spike-like mounds. Bits of chainmail hung around his body in odd places. The battle skirt was made of two sets of overlapping plates that covered the flanks. Hanging off of these plates were chains as large as a pony’s hoof in width and thickness. More plates stretched over his flanks and barrel. Each plate had Hammer Strike’s cutie mark inscribed above where his would normally show were he not dressed for battle. Where the plates stopped, thick, heavy chainmail continued. Neither his fore nor back legs could be seen under the steel curtain covering them down to the hoof. A plate of steel covered the area above and below the knee with a third plate covering the knee itself. Hammer Strike’s tail was also protected under the chainmail coating his flanks. His hooves were covered by large boots, his forehooves being able to move freely through intricately placed interlocking plates. His helmet covered his head entirely. The front held a reinforced gem visor, giving him a clear line of sight while still protecting his eyes.
Hammer Strike looked down at the two guards, his eyes showing clarity for the first time as he waited for their response.
“You are a walking battering ram with those hooves.” Strike Shield muttered. He let a small laugh out of his muzzle. “Well, we might have to call you Body Shield or something.” He quickly stiffened, remembering who he was addressing. “Sir,” he added more formally.
Lost Shield shook his head. “If we built more rams like that, our sieges would be over in seconds.” He looked to his brother. “He is the laid back leader. We can be informal in private.” He looked to Hammer Strike. “Out in public we still have to call you Sir, though.”
“Where is Pensword?” Hammer Strike asked.
“Military Parade grounds at the Castle. He is meeting Princess Luna there,” Lost Shield answered. “From there neither of us know where he is going. In three days he is going to be marching with three separate forces lead by you, Princess Luna, and himself with Colonel Lunar Fang at his side.”
“Lead me to Pensword. My mind is foggy at best.” He sighed. “Still recovering.”
“Of course,” They answered. “If thou wilt follow us.” They walked at a brisk trot towards the front door of Hammer’s manor and out into the noble walkways that lead to the castle. They did not hesitate stepping onto the causeway. Lost Shield looked to Hammer Strike. “We feel that this can take the weight. We have seen statues moved on this causeway, so it should work.”
Under their hooves they heard the sound of flowing water. They walked quickly and Hammer Strike found that the few nobles or artisans using the pathway were quick to move out of their way. Many staring at him in open mouthed amazement, others deathly pale. Most likely they were reacting to the amount of armor he was wearing. The trio paused at the palace doors and Celestia’s personal guards stood waiting. They stared at Hammer Strike in shock and wordlessly opened the gates to let him through into the castle proper. Inside the hallways his hoof steps echoed about the stone walls as they continued towards a meeting room under the Castle.
They all paused in front of a door that held Luna’s crest on a blue banner, a three pronged crown with the middle prong taller than the two outer prongs. Under that a light purple blue diamond that held her cutie mark stood prominently. Around the diamond a feathered scrollwork circled symmetrically. Jutting out over the two top sides of the Diamond were two feathered wings, the same color as her coat. The other side held an incomplete banner that just bore Pensword’s cutie mark. The cloth remained undyed. It was quite clear that Pensword still had some work to do on his new family crest.
There was no ceremony. Hammer Strike simply opened the doors, looking around slowly before setting his eyes on the ponies that sat before him.
Pensword, Lunar Fang, High Chieftess Luna, a certain Crescent Mane of the Wolf Tribe, and one Gryphoness, Shrial, all paused as they all stared at Hammer Strike and the two Guards. Not a soul spoke or moved as he stepped into the room.
Finally, one of them worked up the courage to speak.
“Lord Hammer Strike?” Pensword muttered with a raised eyebrow. He turned to the map and papers on the table. “This changes a few parameters.” He paused and looked to Hammer Strike. “How do you feel about using that armor to scare the enemy? Also, can it take the force needed for a battering ram?”
“Nothing has brought me down in this yet.” Hammer Strike said. “They used to fear me. But after my capture, I question that fear. I need to fix that.”
“Very well,” Lunar Fang looked to her Chieftess. “Do you mind if we have Hammer Strike in our forces?” She looked to the earth pony in armor that made him as big as an Alicorn. “I think it would be a frightful sight indeed if the Gryphons were to see him attack the front gates in that thing.”
“What I don’t understand is how you gained this information,” Shrial said. “If what you say is true, you should not even be standing here. The Emperor would have sent assassins to kill you and then killed the assassins. Only he and the Kings know the location of that tower.”
“Classified. But I do perceive that thou art an intelligent Gryphoness. Connect the dots. Start from the rumors of me around the camps.” he stated, smiling a little as he looked to the map. “Right. Chieftess Luna and the Thestral Tribes shall work on slowly encircling the fortress. While my and my mate’s forces with Shrial and Hammer Strike shall assault the main gates.” He looked up with a smirk. “That should bring out the warriors for High Chieftess Luna to have her fun.” She looked down, blushing as he smiled at the map. “Simple tactics, perhaps, but easier to change on the fly.” He looked to each one in the room. “Are the tactics agreeable to all?”
Shrial remained pensive and quiet as she analyzed the plans. “The attack does have merit. Include a gryphon traitor and they’ll be all the gladder. But you do need to remember, we are going against magic users here, not your typical warrior gryphons. We will have to anticipate what spells they may attempt to cast, most of which, I might add, will be highly experimental.”
“High Chieftess Luna, you have fought these magic using Gryphons in the past. What are your suggestions and tips on how to fight them?” Pensword asked as he looked to Luna.
“Gryphon magic is powerful, but it is neither fast nor easy for them,” luna explained, conjuring up the image of a talisman. “Gryphons create these talismans to focus the magical field inside them. They have no other way to access their magic and the process of some rather simple spells can be taxing for them. If we manage to rush them en masse, they will not be able to compensate for it and we will likely be able to disable them before they can cast anything too damaging.”
“Right. So we charge the fortress and hope that the armor works. Maybe he can charge the door? Would that work?” Pensword asked aloud. He spoke the next part almost absently, too engrossed in strategem. “Thank you, Princess Luna.” He looked at each of the ponies and the Gryphoness in the room, waiting for any other last minute suggestions. After a justifiable period, he spoke yet again, this time decisively. “Very well. the plans are set. We shall sleep and prepare. The day after tomorrow, we march on Grif’s prison.”
it had been days. Or hours. Was it minutes? Grif couldn’t tell anymore. Time had become inconsequential. All there was, was the pain. Every nerve, every neuron in his body fired to the point where it was a fight not to go mad.
worse yet was the fact that the vortex the constant forcing of wind magic into his body created was making it intensively harder to breathe. What little air Grif managed to draw into his lungs was thin at best. His lungs burned from the lack of oxygen, further increasing his pain. Grif was sure he should have lost consciousness, but the constant flow of energy kept his body from being able to let go of his conscious mind.
Finally, though his vision began to swim, somewhere inside the Gryphon an abyss opened and he eagerly let himself fall to the darkness. outside the evokers started with alarm as the prisoner’s body convulsed a few times, eyes rolling back into his head before all movement ceased.
“Veilfire,” another evoker spoke up as the gryphons let the magic cease. “We went too far. Look, he is dead. He must have suffocated.” The gryphon walked over and poked the body experimentally. “What will we tell the emperor?” His voice showed a hint of fear.
Veilfire stayed quiet for a moment, pensive. Finally, the old evoker spoke.“We will leave him here tonight. We must give the manna time to dissipate lest he detonate from the sheer volume,” he said. “In this time, let us feed, drink, and rest. Tomorrow, we will prepare the body to be brought to the emperor. We will think of a proper story by then.”
The evokers hurried to the door. There had been several post-death detonations from corpses in similar circumstances and they did not wish to be caught in it. Veilfire locked the door behind him, shaking his head with a disappointed click of his tongue. The body lay there in the dark, feathers and fur ragged around him. wings hung limply at his sides as feathers slowly began to detach and fall to the ground. No one was around to feel as a light breeze started to blow through the room. Feathers taken by the slowly began to dance around the shackles. In the quiet no one could hear the lungs refill themselves with air as the unconscious figure breathed deeply. Hanging there in the shadows, Grif slept in a dark, dreamless sleep: broken, but alive.
Pensword was in the air, glaring at the horizon as they marched into Gryphon Territory. He watched as the broken Gryphon army retreated from the massive troops that were marching with a purpose in their lands. This was the third army to have tried to face them. In his mind an Army now was nothing less than a thousand souls. He looked around him, taking in statistics with a single glance.
The forces under his own command stretched upwards to three thousand strong. The majority were Thestrals and Pensword’s heart ached knowing that with the combat to come, they were to lose a good number of the warriors. He looked to the Horizon and began to move forward as he landed. He made no attempts to hide that this army contained the Commander of the Equestrian Forces, nor did Princess Luna hide her own presence. This was a war machine out on a purpose. Marching. Marching towards a destination that only a few warriors and military units on the Gryphon side knew or would even dare to guess was in, what to normal Gryphon society, were considered empty plains.
Having seen enough, Pensword dove down to Hammer Strike, concerned for the well being of his friend. He alighted gracefully, sheathing his wing-blades with the sound of hissing metal. “Are you holding up okay? That is hot, surely, and with no cloud cover and our fast marching pace...” he paused and shook his head. “We are about to make the turn. We are maybe another thirteen hours away from our destination. If you need to, we shall rest. I shall not have you going down from the heat.”
“I am fine.” Hammer Strike replied, looking down on Pensword. “Heat does not bother me.”
“You surely are Celestia’s Ghost.” Pensword muttered. “Still, you need to. You shall rest.” He turned and began to look. He could see his Gryphon Slayers marching towards the middle of the force, bearing captured colors of the Gryphon forces that they had fought against proudly. They were to display them in the coming battle in hopes of demoralizing the enemy forces. They had gathered three new banners from the last few battles. He shook his head, it had been two days since they had entered Gryphon Territory and he felt a terrible sense of urgency. He looked to the sky and to the machine that Hammer Strike had built. It was measuring how far they had traveled. Soon they would turn and march towards the fortress, and to Grif.
“Veilfire. Veilfire! A Pony army is marching our way. They have broken through the outermost perimeter and show no signs of slowing down. They are making a beeline toward us.” A young initiate called out with the message none of the older Gryphons wanted to report to him.
“Impossible. No one even knows we are here,” veilfire said. “Did you inform the guards? The gatekeepers?”
“Yes. We have seen the banners of three border forces also marching towards us in a retreat. The gates are shut and sealed and some of us who know war magic are preparing to fire back. They,” he gulped. “I have heard rumors that the personal flag of the Moon is in the army. And the sigil of the Commander,” He reported, fearing for his own life.
“We have food enough to last for months. Send a messenger to the nearest fort and request reinforcements. We can wait it out if necessary,” Veilfire ordered. “Our gates are strong. They can hold.”
“Uh…” He shuffled a little. “They bear the flag of Celestia’s Ghost as well.” He muttered in concern. “Another of the Initiates has been ordered to get reinforcements from the two authorized forts that know of our location.”
“Shore the gates up, then. Steel. And maybe some earth to keep them from burning it,” veilfire said. “I will be at the wall tops soon to take charge.” The old gryphon opened his dresser. Inside, several nigh identical talismans stood, glinting in the light. The only difference between them was the focus in the center of the glass. Veilfire switched the wind talisman for one holding a chunk of volcanic ash. Putting it on, he turned to the door. “well, get moving boy!”
The Initiate nodded, relieved to still be alive. He left the room as fast as possible, not really noticing the sound of slight drafts coming from the lower parts of the fortress. Such things were normal in a building like this.
Pensword looked to the fortress. It appeared to be a stereotypical medieval castle. A wall with towers on the corners stood several stories high, imposing might and authority over the planes. In the middle a large keep stood at the ready. Guards flocked within, milling about nervously behind the reinforced gate. What looked like pillars of iron and stalactites of earth braced against the gate. Clearly they underestimated Hammer Strike’s strength if they thought that was going to keep him out. Pensword smiled. He was going to enjoy this battle. He paused and wondered who would control this castle once the war was over. An odd thought to be sure, but he was going to enjoy this battle all the same.
At some unseen signal the unicorns released a volley of spells at the fortress. The magical energy blasts ended up hitting a few of the upper initiates, but for the most part the gryphons were able to neutralize or repel the spells.
“You are wasting your time, Princess, Commander,” an aged voice ground like gravel from over the wall. “All this way to retrieve a traitor’s corpse?”
Pensword’s voice cut through the din, ringing clearly as he let loose the canterlot voice. “THEN LET IT BE YOUR HEADS THAT ROLL BY DAYS END!” His eyes blazed with anger at the thought that Grif would not have visited him already if dead. “TODAY THEN, SHALL BE THE DAY THAT ALL GRYPHON MAGIC SHALL DIE!”
Princess Luna let loose with a battle cry as a magic blast erupted from her horn at the fortress only to hit a shield that flickered and died as Princess Luna panted and growled. “Distract them. We shall recharge and fire again. We should be able to open a hole large enough for all to march through.”
Pensword paused and looked to the Princess, then to the others. “Belay that. It would seem Hammer Strike is already heading to the gate.” He smiled. “I would rather that we only have to build another gate than an entire wall.
The titanic mound of steel was indeed charging, his form wreathed in flames as the metal took on a cherry red glow which quickly escalated into white as steam and smoke flowed from the ground wherever he stepped, leaving scorched earth in it’s wake. A second before impact Hammer Strike turned and slammed both rear hooves into the gate, the heat immediately spreading through the metal, weakening it beyond endurance, spreading to the welding joints and the chain which held it in place. The gate trembled, then shrieked as its weld points withered. Then, with a final crash, the gates fell like a mighty tree, issuing a death rattle on impact with its braces as its fragments clattered on the stones of the keep. Large stone fragments mixed with shrapnel jettisoned into the enemy lines, decimating their forces as they ripped through their flesh.
To their credit the Gryphons did try to fight, but their magic could not touch Hammer Strike no matter how hard they tried. A strange field, some magic unlike any they had felt before, swarmed about him, defending against any magic they conjured against him. Moments after, the Pegasi and Thestrals charged, taking to the air and dive bombing the distracted Gryphons on the wall. Unicorns teleported closer, bringing themselves and others with them to the gate’s walls. Meanwhile, Hammer Strike forced himself forward resolutely. The Gryphons quite suddenly found themselves fighting for their very lives. By fighting, of course, it meant running while shoving other gryphons in the way to block his advance.
Pensword, for once, stayed and directed forces to move up and forward instead of charging into the battle himself. He was still mortal and if he charged in, it might do poorly. The Gryphons might die but they could just as easily kill him if they tried anything risky. He hated to do it, but he kept himself back. Still armed, his ears swiveled as he picked up something on the wind. “Troops, turn around.” He ordered. What troops remained outside the castle walls turned as one to face the largest Gryphon Force yet. Quick on his hooves, Pensword turned to a Pegasus Mare. Her coat shone a bright pink with a blue mane. Three bright blue lightning bolts stood out boldly on her flank. “Recall Hammer Strike. Inform him that an enemy is coming from behind and he can go after them to protect those hunting for Grif.
She saluted and charged away. “And so, I see Firefly’s military career start.” Pensword muttered to himself, remembering when she reported to him in the Crystal Empire as part of Luna’s forces. He shook his head, snapping back to the situation at hand. Silently, he made a mental note to look up Firefly’s career after they got back to the present. A moment later a large patch of Gryphons were simply wiped out as Princess Luna fired another of her uber beams, this time at the approaching army.
Grif woke with a start as the gate fell. He looked around, confused about his surroundings as the memories slowly came back to him. He rubbed his head as the events flooded his mind. Then he stopped and looked down in amazement. His talons were free and unchained. He had been laying flat on the stone floor. But ... how had he been released?
The gryphon’s eyes picked up on several feathers worn down to the spine surrounded by small piles of what, from his best guess, could be some kind of metal dust. Curiosity held his mind for a moment before something else began to bowl through. Pain. Immeasurable pain washed through his memory. What he had been made to endure, what hammerstrike had been through before that, even what had happened to Pensword flashed before his eyes in a great show of carnage and agony. His anger mounted.
The small eddy grew and grew into a full blown tempest of rage. As Grif’s anger mounted, the air around him began to whistle as a small wind began to blow. The speed and power of the winds gradually increased and the metal dust began to be swept up in spiraling columns. As the winds reached a higher level of intensity, these dust devils combined, merging to form a large vortex that flowed around the Gryphon’s form. Grif made for the door as his fury hardened, feeding the tempest that flooded the air around him. He reached the locked door, pausing momentarily as the wood resisted him. Grif’s blue eye’s turned black. How dare this pathetic excuse for a prison seek to hold him? How dare those Gryphons try to murder him, to break him. He would make them pay.
A thousand steel splinters pelted the door at gale force speed, having the same effect as a diamond edged saw on tissue paper. Sparks and sawdust flew through the air as the door disintegrated before him. The gryphon kept walking, his body now veiled in the silver of more metal dust as well as the yellowish brown of the sawdust. As Grif continued his implacable march, he ran into an initiate searching for anyone who was not at the gate. The poor soul never stood a chance as the metal and wood ripped through him, adding a fine red mist to the growing storm. Still, the gale grew. And Grif moved on.
He reached the steps and began to climb as the wind howled and echoed through the halls. Two Gryphon mages peeked around a corner and down the stairwell. They could see nothing. Then they felt the pricks. Grif entered the new hallway alone.
Six more Gryphons witnessed the barbarous sight and promptly ran away. Preparing to pursue them, Grif jerked to a halt as he heard the sound of war coming from the open window to his left.
He smiled a wicked grin as he pounced through it and into the open air, spreading his wings. Shards of glass, sawdust, and metal instantly joined with the storm as he landed outside. For a split second the battle stopped as all eyes turned on him. Grif was quite a sight, painted with blood and surrounded by an ominous cloud of red swirls, wood, metal, and glass. His pupils shone like black pearls, his eyes bloodshot with rage.
He approached the nearest combatants with the same malevolent grin. “In the shadows, I have mended.” Walking past, the first gryphon he engaged looked on in horror and pain. There was a buzzing sound. The cloud consumed him. Then, quite suddenly, there was nothing left but a bloodstain. The pony who had engaged the victim in battle shook with fear as Grif approached and passed. Yet the breeze simply passed by. Grif did not even bother to look at him as he continued his relentless advance. “Think but this and be offended.” One gryphon had made an attempt to attack his opponent in confusion. He had just enough time to scream as yet another pony turned back to see blood and feathers fall to the ground. Grif was nearly unseeable now, the vortex around him swarming with debris.
Grif turned as another gryphon attempted to take to the air in fear. He “borrowed” a pony’s dagger, holding it into the gale as he he focused his anger. “That you will soon be dead right here.” He released the knife and the gale took it. The knife shot like a rocket and the fleeing gryphon fell, dead. “Screaming in your mortal fear.”
Grif outright charged the next gryphon, the wind aiding his steps till he was right behind the enemy. “Pain will be your death’s theme.” He smiled as the gryphon died, screaming in agony. “And as you yield, you’ll never dream.”
A spear flew through the air, true to its target, but was caught by the wind before it could make contact. Before it could be ground down to add to his defensive wall of debris, Grif grabbed it and looked to the thrower, his eyes those of a berserker in his element. “Harshly, I will reprimand.” He turned and threw the spear, impaling the gryphon’s abdomen. “I will not pardon. I will end.” He growled, his voice carrying along the wind as his gale continued to rage around him.
He grabbed one gryphon, watching with predatory delight as the creature writhed in agony. “And, as I am an honest Grif, I will send you through the rift.” The winds sped up and devoured the gryphon as bloody mist rained on the combatants.
He turned to see Veilfire, the center of his rage, reeling to run into a gate house. Grif smiled, walking slowly and implacably in his direction. “You will not ‘scape with your serpent’s tongue.” The door was shut and barred as the gryphon approached. Grif could smell the fear in his pray from the other side of the door. He slowed the wind, letting the saw tear through at an agonizingly slow pace. Meanwhile, he continued his fearsome soliloquy. “You will find your end ere long, else the Grif a liar be.” The door was wearing thin, the hinges already falling apart. “So this night your end will be. You’ve harmed me! You’ve harmed my friends!” The winds grew now, the vortex tearing the remains of the door off, bar and all, devouring them. In the dark within the vortex, Veilfire could see Grifs beak glistening. His tone was low, dark, vengeful, practically demonic.
“Now come, now come, and meet your end” Those final words rolled on the wind like boulders grinding to dust. And just as Veilfire was about to scream, Grif pounced. Outside both pony and gryphon alike could only wretch in horror at the sounds Veilfire made as he died. When the dreadful deed was done, Grif slumped before falling into blissful unconsciousness. The wind around him abated. The blood, wood, metal, and glass dust fell in piles around him as he lay there in the carnage, his savage rage, his bloodlust, his vengeance, finally sated. The gryphons surrendered quietly after that. The haunted look in their eyes showed they had received punishment enough just watching. They threw down their weapons. Some wet themselves. Some babbled incoherently. Others collapsed into a gibbering mass of feathers and tears. The battle to take the fortress was over.
Pensword did not know what was going on in the Fortress as he was currently fighting for his own life against the Gryphons coming in to attack his forces. Princess Luna had to rise into the air and was using a toned down beam of magic to try and cut down the enemy forces from the rear before having to quickly duck and use a magic sword construct to defend herself from the rising Gryphon warriors. Pensword looked around him. He gulped. Hammer Strike was an island in a sea of Gryphons as they tried to kill him only to find his armor impenetrable. Pensword looked to his wife with concern as she fought at his side. He closed his eyes. He felt at this moment that they would die. They were being surrounded and the battling from the Fort was dying down. He opened his eyes. “KEEP FIGHTING!” Pensword shouted as he continued tearing through the enemy ranks with his wing blades. The morale of the Equestrian army was still holding up. Then, suddenly the forces seemed to strengthen and fight harder against them. He could just make out a voice somewhere in the battle field.
“The fort has fallen to the ponies!” he did not know who spoke those words, but they gave him the strength he needed to continue the fight. He sounded a tactical retreat, fighting like a mad pony as he started to fall back. Soon the pony forces were against the fortress walls, hoping desperately for refuge and to stem the loss of life from the forces outside.
The fight lasted another hour before the Gryphon forces were forced to camp out around the Fortress as Hammer Strike used his body and armor to wedge the doors shut as Crafts Ponies worked hard to repair the gate from the inside. Pensword was busy taking a tally of the dead, most of whom he knew would not be able to be buried. The Gryphons would surely feed on those they left in the field of battle. It made him sick, but he felt a little better knowing that they held the Fort. He just hoped they would be able to fight out of it. He paused as he noticed how a few of the doors had been almost torn apart, their holdings worn completely smooth. Blood stains spattered the ground almost as if it had drizzled blood instead of water, giving a fine speckled coating of red to the dull grey stones. He paused and looked at one of the guards, his head tilted. “What, happened here?”
Inside Grif’s mind, quite another clean up job was taking place as the individual pieces of the torn consciousness began to reassemble. In one corner lay a taller dirty blond human wearing a black hoodie with a red inner lining for the hood. His blue jeans were torn and tattered at the knees and cuffs. As he came to, he looked around the tattered space, taking in the damage. Books and weapons lay scattered everywhere. It looked almost like a tornado had run through. Taze had taken to keeping his mental space like a reading room: mostly books with a few victorian easy chairs with high backs and big, poofy arms, and a fireplace. A few weapons stood hanging in disarray on the wall. He originally had put them there for looks, but it was nothing like it had been since getting his full memories back.
Grif had set his space, unknowingly, like an armory. Weapons of different types mentally representing different aspects of his personality hung askew on racks all over the place. A particularly large catapult lay smoking on the floor, fresh out of ammo. A few drips of naptha and pitch lay burning, licking weakly against the frame of the weapon as they were consumed and slowly died. When taze had managed to gain some standing, he slowly, but surely, began restoring the books. With a sigh the human concentrated, trying to sort his mind as they began to fly to and fro, shelving themselves. Gazing over the carnage, he shook his head.
“For the love of-”
on the wall, deadpool lay pinned, skewered in several places by weapons. “Oh, you’re awake. A little help here?” he asked as a yellow box appeared next to him ‘If you’re not too busy.’
“... Why do i keep you around?” Taze asked, moving to pull a sword out.
“I thought I was your muse?” he asked, another yellow box proclaiming “muse” appeared. “I thought we were some sort of mental flaw compressed into a conscious state?” another yellow box appeared with comic fans writing “Really? I just figured we were some twisted imaginary friend sort of thing.”
“Will you three just shut up?” Taze’s voice was mirrored by his all too familiar tennent. He turned to Grif to behold the gryphon pulling himself up.
“what ... just happened?” Grif asked, rising to all fours.
“As far as i can tell? Something got you so angry that it got me angry. Without my subtle-ish hold on you, our anger combined. And since we’re supposedly the same person, our minds tried to recombine.” Grif picked up a copy of Hannibal. It was empty. Taze had never read the book, but it looked good on the shelves. “And then our psychotic self, you know, personal pain? offense? pride? All that good stuff. Yeah, they all got out with no controller and went trigger happy with a power trip,” He said, pointing to the smoking Catapult.
“Ok, now say it in draconic” Grif said.
“We lost it.” Taze sighed. “Well, there goes eight years of non-violent outbursts down the drain.”
“I don’t even get why that bothers you. They were our enemies. This is a war. Enemies kill each other,” Grif growled.
“Listen.” Taze snapped. “In canterlot and the empire it was live or die, ok? It was live or die. I am not a violent person. I don’t hurt people! That is not who I am! I used to be a violent person. I told myself I wouldn’t be that again. I wouldn’t sink that low. I am a thinker. I read. I am smarter than people who would hurt me. There is fighting for self defense, fighting to protect others, and then … then there is slaughter.”
“So thats why you started us on this path? Saving the gryphoness? Starting a clan? You hope that you can make peace and we can all live happily ever after? Wake up! Life isn’t like that. You live or you die,” the gryphon growled.
“So you’re saying that we’re so valuable that other families should have to suffer for us? We’re so valuable that some cub in the higher kingdoms gets to find out daddy died screaming in fear by our hand?” Taze asked.
“What about hammer strike? Look what they did to him! What about Pensword? His whole family died in that attack!” Grif’s voice rose.
“The gryphons who hurt Hammerstrike? They’re ash now. They’re dead! According to your faith, they spend the rest of their existence trying to collect up their own pieces. As for Pensword, I haven’t forgotten my promise. I want to hunt down those bastards and give them what they deserve. But you are imagining genocide. Of your own species! Where is the profit in that? What do you have to gain from spilling the blood of your fellows?”
The gryphon couldn’t speak.
“Look. I think it’s time we redefined just who the hell we think we are. We’re not waking up until we know who we want to be, what our goals are, and our motivations. My family wouldn’t want this for me and we both know Graf would be disgusted with the thoughts running through your skull right now.” Taze sighed as grif’s hackles rose. A throaty growl filled the room.
“Don’t you dare,” Grif said through his gritted beak. “You don’t know…”
“I know everything. Your memories are mine. Your feelings are mine. I know it all and I loved him too. I miss him too!” taze trailed off for a moment, then brought his head back up again, his eyes set and his look determined. “But I want to do something that would bring his name pride, not shame.” Taze looked to a mirror that appeared out of thin air. With a wave of his hand its surface clouded over. When it cleared, it revealed a reflection of how Grif had been during the fight. It was only an instant frozen in time, but the reflection was there. The monster that stared at them caused both to recoil. “This,” taze said, his voice trembling. “This can’t happen again.”
Grif nodded his head solemnly. “I guess it’s time we sat down and talked this through.”
Taze nodded. He turned his head to a blank space and a table with two comfy chairs materialized. On it sat a kettle of tea and two glasses. “Come on, lets become a better person.” And with that the two took their seats and began to talk.
Deadpool still hovered skewered to the other wall. “Uh, guys? Guys? Little help here?”
They ignored him.
Pensword sat in the banquet hall and looked at the papers. He frowned. Of the troops he had marched to take Grif back home he was down to two thousand twelve troops total, counting those wounded and unable to move or fight. He was happy that his wife made it along with his bodyguard. It seemed somewhere along the battle the Gryphon Slayers became his bodyguard unit. He sighed as he looked at the Ponies that were in the fort when Grif had attacked. He had been told what had happened and was now addressing his troops to reassure them.
“Grif … went mad,” he stated bluntly. “Tell me. You said a Gryphon was torn apart right in front of you. That means that the vortex that you described was right there around you as well. If Grif was not in full control, that means you all would be giving me this report as ghosts! Grif is, no matter what, loyal to the ponies. And I will not let you do anything that might change his mind. He passed over you like a destroying angel and spared all of your lives because you deserved it. He is in a coma now in the medical wing of this fort and only Thestrals are going to be allowed near him at the moment, seeing as you are all so scared of him.” He looked at them, appraising their mood and morale. “If nothing else, we can send him into the enemy army and cut a path through them. We face a siege of four thousand Gryphons. They are too scared to assault us just yet, but if we stay here too long we will all end up dinner for the Gryphons. We need a way out. Start brainstorming and telling your squad leaders. I want the whole fort thinking of what to do. Thank Faust we have Princess Luna and Hammer Strike.” He paused as he remembered something. “Lunar Fang, Hammer Strike, come with me. We have someplace to go.”
As he started to walk, the three of them were deep in thought. Pensword was wondering if he was going to go crazy like his friends, and if he did, what would he do in his rage? He didn’t like the thought, but so far it was two out of three that they would go insane during this war. And doing so would and had caused massive damage to both lives and property.
Lunar fang casually slapped pensword in the back of the head with a wing. “Stop thinking like that.”
“Yes, dear.” he muttered before looked to his left at his wife. “Wait, what?” he asked in confusion. “You, you can read my thoughts?” he asked a little shocked. “Is this something Thestrals can do? Does that mean I will get to do that to you at some point?” he asked with a look that she had not seen since the start of the Third Gryphon War.
“No, the look on your face was giving away your thoughts. I’m your wife. I should be able to tell what you’re thinking.”
“Very true.” He muttered sheepishly at his sudden outburst. “Sorry about that there. I do not know what came over me.” He admitted as the paused at another door. It took Hammer Strike to knock it down. Pensword was not sure what Hammer Strike was thinking. “Uh, thanks.” He spoke a little shocked. “Dear. How do you feel about looting a library?” He looked to the back head of his friend. “What about you, Hammer?”
“I think we should find this tomb first,” lunar fang noted. “The books will wait. The four thousand gryphons outside might not.”
“True, true.” Pensword muttered. “What is it about today that I am being a breezie with my attention?” He asked the two. They continued on their journey to another floor and began to explore the hallways. They had their weapons ready in case they came across any Gryphons still hiding in the shadows. “So, dear, how art thou?” He asked his wife as he moved a wing to touch hers. “I, I hope thou are not mad that I may have trapped us here for a while in a Gryphon Fortress with an enemy wishing to eat us outside.” He looked to Hammer Strike. “Are you holding up now that we have Grif and he is alive?”
“I am fine.” Hammer Strike responded.
“As am I, Pensword. I am not unable to fight just yet,” lunar fang said. “I just need to fight carefully.”
Pensword nodded in response. “Good. I am just a little concerned from what we saw of Grif’s aftermath.” He sighed and looked to Lunar Fang. “I do not know what I would do if I got you killed,” he said, admitting his fear at last. He looked back to the hallways as they found another set of stairs that led further down into the keep. Fine blood spatters marked the trail to where Grif had been held captive. “So… see if this is where the tomb is?” He asked as they looked at the wind damage and blood stains on the stairs. “I am just in shock over what I was told happened.”
Anxious to change the topic, Lunar Fang jumped in. “So, we never discussed names.” She said, playfully.
“Ah. Well if Hammer Strike does not mind, I suppose we could use this time to name the foal. However, I think they do not have to use the Pen name just yet, seeing as that has become the clan name or Tribe name? Family name?” He asked looking a little confused. “Pony names confused me and at the moment they still do. How do we celebrate their heritage of both moon and sun?” he asked, referring to the Thestral Creation Myth.
“I was thinking something with river” lunar fang said “It’s a nice name.”
“Well I would say song is right out.” he muttered, shaking his head. “Sorry, reference from Earth that I would rather not tempt fate on.” He paused and started to hum a little tune, ending with the two words sung aloud “Moon River.” he paused, then burst into a fit of giggles before he looked to his wife. “Sorry, it is another song from our home, but it does sound rather nice. Do you like the name?”
“I love it.” she smiled. “Moon River.” She looked down to the bulge in her lower stomach. “Moon River will be a strong pony” she smiled.
“Agreed, no matter the gender.” He replied with a smile. “I, wow, I am going to be a father in ... eight months?” he asked, then shook his head. “Pony pregnancies are longer than humans. Still trying to think in eleven months and not nine month terms.” He shook his head. “Yet at the same time Nine Months seems too short.” he snorted. “Great. I should ask Grif if he has this problem at all… two mindsets.”
“I would think we have the answer to that already,” lunar fang said. “Or was the incident with shrial a fluke in your opinion?”
“No, what I saw was real. Taze and Grif are two distinct minds. But does that mean I have two minds as well? Or have I integrated them already?” he asked the group as they paused to look into the cell that Grif had been held in. Pensword shuddered as he looked to his wife. “I hope none of us gets captured again.” He trailed off as they continued down the hallway and found a slope that moved down and around in a spiral. They found themselves standing before a stone arch with heavy stone doors. He sighed. “We are here, it seems.” He sat down as he looked to the doors and then looked at his friends as they eyed the inscription. “Does anypony know Gryphic? I can muddle through it, but I rather not miss anything like death traps or curses.”
“Somewhat.” Hammer Strike responded.
“Well, what can you read about it?” Pensword asked.
“Passage to a tomb.” He said aloud.
“You mind, Hammer Strike?” Pensword asked, motioning to the slabs.
“Of course.” Hammer strike snorted, then strolled his way to the doors. Carefully, he rolled back the sleeves of his blue coat, his juggernaut armor having been removed and waiting for him to don again when the Gryphon army attacked. It would only be restrictive in an event like this. The gold trim of his sleeve gleamed in the torchlight as he smirked. Then he dug his hooves into the ground, reared, and braced against the stone gates, pushing for all he was worth. They swung ponderously open, a great gust of stale air rushing out as the fresh air of the planes blew in from the drafts in the upper parts of the castle.
Pensword quickly moved to one side of the hallway, simultaneously shoving his mate the other way. “Tomb Air is not good for the lungs.” he whispered in her ear after the initial outpouring of air was complete.
The doors opened to a large, round shaft going down far deeper than any could make out. A single pillar took up the center of the room. A track traced downwards in a spiral pattern. Connected to the track, a large stone platform stood, waiting for its passengers to arive. It barely looked large enough for the three ponies. A large stone wheel lay attached with a single rod sticking from it connecting to a gear that bit into the wall. More Gryphic was inscribed on the wheel.
“Lunar Fang… can you go find Shrial? I do not want to proceed. The script here is a little more than I can translate and I would rather not miss any instructions. I would prefer not to end up like any of the companions of Dr. Jones or stuck in a trap that only Daring Do could escape from.”
Lunar Fang nodded before galloping away. Several minutes later she found the gryphoness breathing heavily next to the remains of what she prayed was a training dummy. “Shrial?” she asked, deciding it wise to keep her distance.
The gryphoness turned, her eyes red, her feathers matted and her appearance generally unkempt. She was heaving, though whether from the exertion of her training or something else could not tell for certain. “What?” Shrial barked, before realizing who she was talking to. “Oh, Lunar Fang, it’s you. I am … sorry to have snapped at you. Is everything alright? Has something happened with Grif?”
“Shrial, do not take offense to this question, but Grif did explain to us that it is not always so. Can you read Gryphic?” she asked.
“Of course I can. My father insisted on it.”
“We believe we have found the entrance to a tomb.” Lunar Fang hesitated a moment, as if puzzling what to say next. “A tomb that … pensword was instructed to find. There is something important in it regarding Grif and also what we hope to be the means for our salvation. Would you be willing to help us?” she asked.
Shrial’s eyes hardened. “Has anyone entered yet?”
“We have encountered… a device. And we can’t seem to make heads or tails of it without translating the text inscribed on it.”
“Good. If you had entered immediately you likely would have died. There are many traps laid in Gryphon tombs to guard their remains. One should not tread those grounds lightly. If you say that our salvation lies within, then I will come. But you must all do exactly as I say. Otherwise, you are all likely to be killed. I do not wish to be the one to bear such news to Grif when he wakes.”
“We will follow you. Now please, come with me.”
“Hmmmmm … These carvings are very old. They seem to have been engraved with some sort of preservation spell; probably earth magic. But the language is essentially the same. ‘Enter stranger, but be warned. Descend to the depths and face wind and storm. The Wind Waker sleeps in peaceful rest. Turn back. Turn back. Or go to your death.’”
“That last part sounds eerily like what the report said Grif sounded like when he went mad,” lunar fang said hesitantly. “So we wind the wheel to go down?” she asked.
“Yes. Though this is a Gryphon machine. It may have recognition spells or something similar. It would likely be safest if I were to be the one to lower the platform. As for the rest of you, keep an eye out for any unusual indentations, holes, chinks, or other things of the like in the rock face. If this inscription means anything, there are likely to be many traps on the way down. Still … it is strange. Why include the warning? Most tombs remain blank and the keepers just come to check for mess every few weeks. Why is this one so different?” She mumbled to herself as she stepped onto the platform and seized the lever. “Well? Are you coming?”
Pensword stepped onto the platform and stood, eyes roving and ears twitching while he kept his body loose in case they needed to take flight. Hammer Strike just stepped onto the platform, looking down into the abyss with an expression that was unreadable. Pensword looked to his wife. “Please, stay here. I know thou wishest to come, but think of our child. I would rather not have the Pen line die out here.”
Lunar Fang hesitated for a moment before sighing. “Very well,” she said. “I shall prepare the troops to defend should it be necessary.”
“Thank you. We shall be back as quickly as possible.” Pensword paused. “Alive.”
“May the winds guide and watch over you.” Shrial said, bowing her head to Lunar Fang. “And us …” She muttered under her breath. With that, she began to crank the wheel and the platform jolted away from the entrance, beginning its winding way down the corkscrew as its gears slowly shifted along the column.
The descent had been filled with stone spikes attempting to impale them from the wall. These found Hammer Strike’s hooves to be harder than the stone they were shaped from. Several hidden dart shooters fired off, thankfully either missing out right or else whatever toxin had been in them had degraded to the point of impotency over the years. Random falls hidden along the track that had caught them off guard a few times, but they managed. At one point a large, rusty blade slid from a slot in the wall and circled around them so closely that had it not already been missing, hammerstrike would have lost a chunk of his ear. when they finally touched the ground, shrial was panting as she pushed the wheel the last few feet, hearing the audible click as the tension reset. It was likely they would need to find a separate way out of the tomb.
“Shrial, you take the lead if you do not mind.” Pensword ordered as he looked around the new room they found themselves in. A long hallway stretched before them, dark as night. “Also, find torches to give us light.”
“I already came prepared for that.” Reaching into her side bag, Shrial pulled out a large torch. The naphtha soaked cloth filled the air with its pungent odor. “Lord Hammer Strike, if you would not mind?”
Hammerstrike stretched out a hoof and with a spark the torch ignited. The area around them was instantly illuminated, revealing intricately carved walls with deteriorated paint depicting a male gryphon in flight, scenes of him slaying a dragon, sections of his family life with what seemed to be two female gryphonesses at his side. In his hands, from what little they could make out, he held two straight edged swords. Still, the carvings were not very detailed.
“Who … is this?” Shrial asked, reaching with her taloned hand to touch the mural.
“That better not be Grif in our future and this world’s past.” Pensword muttered darkly. “I hate the time travel paradoxes enough already.” He shook his head as he let his eyes rove the other walls.
“Time travel?” Shrial asked.
“Ask Grif.” Pensword replied, glaring at Shrial. “I am not saying another word.” He moved to look at a carved section of the cave system, ignoring Shrial as his ears kept swivelling.
“To slay a dragon and live to tell the tale … this is amazing. But … no, it can not be.”
“Can not be what?” Pensword asked as he turned around to look at Shrial. “Do you know someting? I would like to hear this.” He grinned a little wider. “I could use it against the Gryphons.”
“There is nothing to use against the Gryphons here. But … there is a tale. A legend I was taught as a hatchling. I thought he was just a myth.” She scanned the mural more carefully, passing the torch slowly over each detail as she scanned the figures on the mural and the landscape around them.
“Go on,” Hammer Strike said.
“In a moment.” Shrial said, testily. Don’t break my concentration.” She brushed along the area beneath the figures and brought the torch closer. Her eyes widened as suddenly, razor sharp etchings scratched their way into the space. “Peregrine … Elaine … and...” she gasped. “It is,” she whispered.
“Grask Grimclaw Dragonfeller,” a voice seemed to whisper in her ear.
“Let me guess. Some lost figure to Gryphon History?” Pensword asked almost guessing what she was going to say next as he looked at the fortress. Or rather, the tomb’s halls. “A Gryphon Clan does need some fortress to show power,” He muttered as he lapsed into thought.
A north wind bellowed through the corridor. Fur and feathers ruffled gently on it’s face as a large dark blue, almost black gryphon emerged from the shadows. “He who felled the the twins of scorching flame. The victor over the gruesome Taimut. The silencer of the Scylia. I left no clan with my name. My children were never to speak of their heritage. I killed many gryphons, many ponies, five dragons, and loved two gryphons with a passion most can hardly contemplate.” The gryphon looked at them. “I am the king of the North East wind. And you are within my burial place.”
Shrial executed a Gryphon bow as a sign of respect to the mighty warrior of legend. “We have come at the instructions received by this one, Grask Dragonfeller. Why have you called us here?”
“He did not. It was Graf, Father of Grif, who told me to come here. I plan to carry out the orders to save my friend and to save those that currently reside in these walls.” He glared at the Dragonfeller. “I am Commander Moonkissed Pensword Hurricane. I have the sight beyond, and I shall proceed.” He ruffled his feathers. “I have met few Gryphons who have earned my respect.”
“I do not claim your respect,” Grask said. “I only offer you what you need in return for delivering what should go to the new avatar of winds.” Without another word, Grask turned and began his walk down the corridor from whence he came. He stopped and looked over his shoulder. “Well? Come on, then.” With that, the others began to follow. Pensword drew closer, curious about Grask’s previous statement.
“That title. The Avatar of Winds. I assume you were talking about my friend, Grif, corrrect?” He looked at the walls and the faded artwork. His face a pool of concern. “I do not have to worry about him losing it again, will I?”
“You do not understand,” grask said. “It was for Grif that Grif lost his control, yes, but it was also for you, Commander Pensword, and it was also for Hammer Strike. The injustice had gotten to be too much for him to handle. He snapped and went berzerk. However, much good can spring from one bad event. When he awakens, I think you will find him a very different gryphon.”
“Very well.” Pensword muttered quietly. “I just worry for my friends.” His eyes drifted to Hammer Strike who was staring silently at the ghost with his usual blank expression.
At the end of the corridor was a reasonably sized dome shaped room. Three sarcophagi made of stone and carved with what must have been an effigy of their tenants occupied the main area of the room. The central coffin had blades sunk into a stone block at it’s end. The handles where nothing but rust, but the blades themselves seemed completely untouched by time as they glinted in the dark. They were a color that seemed to fall somewhere between the realm of gold, deep red, and rich brown. They started off a little on the broad side, but moved towards what must decidedly have been a point hidden within the stone. Both edges were straight save for a small spike-like addition to the back of the blades. Despite their age, the edges still appeared frightfully lethal. Each blade had different Gryphic lettering down the length of it’s base.
Pensword stepped to the side, already pondering how he could preserve this piece of history. He frowned at what he was seeing and allowed Shrial her time. He had a gut feeling that this was Shrial’s task to accomplish in bringing Grif these blades. He looked to Hammer Strike’s form in the dome room and hoped he would be getting better soon.
Hammer Strike had moved to the far area of the room. As Pensword walked over to check on him, his eyes widened. Piled from floor to roof: a store of gold coins, jewels and gems of rare cut and quality as far as the eyes could see. Pieces of jewelry and other priceless artifacts lay scattered amongst the rest, cascading like water. A cache like this would be enough to make any dragon jealous.
“Oh my… even a fraction of that could fund the entire war for a year,” he muttered, his jaw dropped. “Let alone buy the Dragon another attack.” he muttered again as he began to calculate the good it could be used for. It could fund hospitals, the reconstruction after the war. Heck, invest it now, just a single ruby or diamond and the reconstruction fund for Unity would be ready by the time they got back. He shook his head and blinked back the tears as he thought of his human family and the good it could do them and their neighbors.
“How must they be removed, Dragonfeller?” Shrial asked as she gazed on the weapons of legend. To think that these would be going to Grif of all people, her clan leader. She could not help but feel awed, proud, and perhaps a little afraid, though she would not show it.
“Simply take them,” Grask said.
Shrial nodded as she grasped the blades where the hilts met them. She pulled, gently and surely. The twin blades hissed out with a metallic ring as they left their place of rest at last. “It would seem they are glad to be free,” Shrial noticed. “I am sure they are anxious to have a new owner to wield them in battle once again.”
“You remind me much of them,” grask said, looking back at the coffin on the left, then the right.
“I am not near so great as they.” Shrial said, shaking her head. “Not yet, anyways.”
“And yet you don’t even see what will be.” The ghost laughed. “You have yet to open your eyes to what’s in front of you.”
“Perhaps. But it is often best not to know what lies ahead. That would take all the fun out of it.” Shrial smirked.
“Give him harsh words. Strike him if you will. But remember that weakness comes to us all and in the end your opinion may matter more to him than you realise. He will release you. Do not leave him.”
Her gaze darkened and she growled. “If he thinks he can get rid of me that easily, he has another coma coming.”
The ghost grinned. “Good, good. You will do quite nicely.” He pointed ahead of them. “There is a wall there breaking. It will reveal the bottom of a cliff face if the land has not changed too much. That is where you will get your gold out for the dragon when he needs it. Do not break it now. There are Gryphon patrols out there and such a weakness is not what you require right now.”
Pensword bowed, never taking his eyes off the Gryphon. He would treat him as an equal foe. “Our thanks, dragonslayer. Though we do have one other request. Is there a safer route out of this cave? The way down was … interesting to say the least.”
“Go around the far side of the pillar. Look for the stone a hair’s breadth from the wall and correct it. In the pillar you will find a platform. The gryphoness has already primed it to rise as she wound the crank to bring you down here. Throw the switch and it will bring you safely to the top.”
“Huh, a clever disarming device indeed. Our thanks, Grask Grimclaw, Dragonslayer. We shall let you return to your slumber. Have you any final requests of us before we go?”
“Remember this place and make it something respectable again,” the old gryphon said. The wind began to blow and he faded.
Grif mumbled groggily as he woke from his slumber, his eyes taking a moment to focus on the room before they locked with the eyes of a lone figure by his bed. “Shrial?”
"Are you in your right state of mind?" The gryphoness asked, gently.
"Yes," Grif responded.
“Good.” A sharp clap resounded through the room as Shrial’s hand made contact with Grif’s face. Grif, to his credit, did not react and maintained his poise.
"I do not consider myself worthy of asking you to forgive me," he stated calmly. "I do not think I will ever be able to forgive myself for what I've done. Not just there to the enemy soldiers not involved at Mountainside, but to the fledglings.” He paused, swallowed and spoke again. “What I almost did to you. I release you, shrial. You should not be held by the burden of my shame. Go with Pensword. Learn from someone proper. Leave me to do what I must."
Shrial glared into his eyes, then slapped him again, this time leaving light scratches with her talons. "First you kill my father, then you destroy my clan, then you change my name and adopt me into your own clan. You put me through two humiliating months of training, and now ... now, after all this, you dare to insinuate that I should leave? If there is one lesson you taught to me, Grif Bladefeather, it is the importance of loyalty. You don't like how you feel? Then stop feeling sorry for yourself and do something about it." She said, recalling how often Grif would use the same tone with her. If there was anything a Gryphon should despise other than dishonor, it was self pity.
Grif let out a dry chuckle as he checked the scratches. "Are you really that sniveling canary that begged for death a few weeks ago?"
Shrial smiled slyly, her eyes glinting. "That depends. Are you still the warrior who pulled me through Tartarus and back to get me this far?"
"The one thing I can promise you." he said "That sullen, sore, spiteful, perpetually angry creature is dead," he said. "There are things I need to say to you, fantastical things you likely won't believe."
Shrial's tail twitched, the only hint at her curiosity. Her eyes were still hard as agates, but a playful glint stirred inside. "That is a battle and a challenge for another time. Right now, I want you to focus on the battle to get well. There will be time to talk after. Once you earn it." She smiled wickedly, but not creully at the bedridden Grif. "I must inform the others that you are awake. When you can get out of that bed, then we will have things to discuss. I may have some news to surprise you as well. Think on that while you recover. I want you walking by the end of the week. A true warrior would settle for nothing less."
"Shrial, if you could do me one thing before you go. Please, bring me my bag," Grif asked.
"Hmmm ... I suppose it's a harmless enough request. Though we took all your weapons away. You'll get them back when you're ready." She grabbed the satchel and tossed it negligently onto Grif's stomach.
The gryphon looked through it a short time before he took out his locket. He and taze had already discussed this. "Shrial, what you see before you is my most treasured possession. I... would like you to wear it. But do not open it until I've told you what I must."
Shrial raised a brow in confusion. "It does not seem very functional for battle. Would you have me wear it around my neck only to lose it to the cut of a sword?"
"I... I..." Grif struggled. He had hoped the meaning of the gesture would get through as he was rather inexperienced with this. "I would ask you to keep it with you then." Grif said "It ... it is as good as my heart."
She stared at the Gryphon, pondering a moment. "Very well. I shall keep it safe for you for now. I see no harm in it. It will be interesting to try to guess this riddle you have set for me. A mystery to try my cunning, rather than my reflexes. I look forward to the challenge."
Grif sighed, resigning to his temporary defeat as Taze face palmed mentally. "Tell me, shrial. I am curious. In Gryphonia how does a male gain a female’s favour?" Grif asked, hoping there was something culturally he'd missed.
“Favor. Oh, that's a way to put it. Favor." She chuckled darkly. "More like how do you buy a female." I do not know how you Gryphons of the Northern Isles mate, but in the empire, if we are desired, we are merely told by our fathers who we are to marry. There is no wooing. Only a business transaction." She smashed an expensive vase on the floor to vent her anger, careful not to clench the locket too tightly.
"In the northern isles it is the same as it is in most of equestria," Grif said. "The male must do what he can to make himself appear worthy in the females eyes. She must choose him."
"Hmmm ... choose the one you wish to live with. A peculiar concept. It would take time for one to earn such a prize from me. That is for certain. I have gained my freedom thanks to you, Grif. I will not give that away lightly."
"Is Lunar Fang a slave to pensword?" Grif asked "You haven't noticed that mares and stallions walk as equals. A male and female should not be treated as inferiors by either side. marriage is a partnership within equestria"
"Hmmm ... yet another thing to like about this country. I am beginning to wonder if the Emperor attacked merely out of jealousy. Not that I am complaining. Were it not for the war, I would not have met you. And I would not stand here now as I am."
"And how do you feel about me, may I ask?" Grif spoke, his feathers ruffling slightly.
Shrial started, taken off guard by the question. "I ... well, you are a warrior, the son of Graf. You are strong, powerful, and by far one of the most skilled weapons masters I have ever had the honor of meeting. You are harsh, but not cruel or unfair. But there is pain in you as well. Something you carry with you, but you cannot express. If you want an honest opinion from me, Grif, Son of Graf, you confuse me more than anything else. You seem to be one person one day, and another the next. I honestly do not know what to think. I have not fully decided. Perhaps I will be able to answer you better when you are well," She said, strolling to the door. Her tail sashayed back and forth, the picture of grace with all the muscle and power of a true warrior. "I will be back with the others shortly. I know that Pensword and Hammer Strike will both be very glad to see you awake."
Over the next four days Grif worked on returning to his normal standard. By the second day he had made it out of bed and by the third he was already working on runs and flights. It was with great relief that Little Willow and Blue Vase had declared him well enough to be out of the infirmary room. By this time, Haymin had come and gone, chasing the Gryponian Army and their reinforcements away. Not that many lived after Haymin’s first pass. The dragon had taken to sitting outside the gate though, just in case.
Grif flew around the fortress grounds, casually looking for any hint of Shrial.
High above in the clouds, a pair of eyes watched him, glinting in the sun before she pounced, dive bombing the Gryphon in a surprise attack.
Grif almost didn’t see her coming. At the last minute he banked to the side, grabbing her in his talons as she passed him. He burned off as much of the force as he could as they were pulled down before they both dropped into a pile of hay. Grif laughed loudly as they landed. Shrial joined with him.
“Well, it seems that the warrior has not lost his touch.” Shrial said, jesting as she tickled his beak with some hay.
It was at that moment Grif decided to try something daring. in a quick motion he leaned forward and kissed her. Shrial’s eyes widened in shock, her breath quickening. She had never been kissed before save by her father as a hatchling. Was this what it really was?
Grif pulled back quickly. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that” he said, backing away. Shrial stood there, still stunned. While surprising, it had not been unpleasant, perse. Still … a kiss. What could Grif be thinking? She sat there, bewildered.
“I, um, I do not know what to say.” Against her will she found herself blushing. Her heart was racing as if she were in battle in full flight. Why?
“Then let’s pretend like that didn’t happen,” Grif said, thankful his feathers where dark to keep his blush hidden. “Besides, I need to talk to you. And you need to hear this.”
“I’m listening.” She replied with an avian tilt of her head.
And so he told her everything. He told her about who he really was, about being human, being from another dimension, even about Matthew and Shawn. He told her about the future and how he had ended up here. He left no details out and prepared himself. At worst she would hate him for lying. At best, she would laugh at him. Grif prepared himself.
“Hmmmm … so that is what Pensword meant when he told me to ask you. It does seem a bit of a difficult tale to swallow, I will admit. But you have been deemed sane by the best physicians in the Equestrian army. At the very least I can believe you about the time travel. The split minds makes sense in hindsight. As for being this strange creature called a human … that I think I will have to see with my own eyes before I can truly accept it, Wind Avatar.” She slyly slipped the title in at the end.
“I would need a place out of the public eye to show you,” he said. “Wait… Wind Avatar?” he asked raising an eyebrow.
“I did say I had news of my own to share, after all.” She winked. “We discovered a lost tomb a few days before you woke. I think you can guess who we found there. And what he had to say.”
“But that title…. I can’t be the avatar of winds,” Grif said. “You know what I did. I’m no paragon.”
“Paragon or no, you are stuck with the title. He has given it to you … and all that goes with it.”
Grif sighed “I suppose it will give my enemies pause at least,” he said. “But you ... no using the title from you.”
“And why not? It is a great honor. One, which I might add, you may not have been worthy of before, but most certainly are now. You have changed, Grif Bladefeather. And, I might add, you were doing the work of the Northeast Wind long before you were ordained with the power.”
“How can you see so much and yet be so incredibly blind?” Grif groaned. “Let the others honor me. Let the fools or the fearful honor the Avatar of Winds. But I couldn't live with myself if you should know me as anyone other than me.”
“Then I will know you as you. But I might just tease you with that title a while. I haven’t had this kind of power over you before.” She winked jokingly. But was it a joke?
“No, I suppose you haven't. Did the dragon say where our mercenaries were waiting?” Grif asked.
“Oh, they should be arriving any day now. They were put on march as soon as Haymin sent them the word. He isn’t so bad a dragon as he likes to make others think, I think.”
“Then we head out the moment they arrive.” Grif said “I got fifteen more names and a month to kill.” He laughed a bit at his own pun. “And a pillow to make That is, if you are still willing to accompany me?” he asked.
“After that last stunt you pulled? I’m not letting you out of my sight ever again.” She smirked. “Shall I lead you to your weapons? They’ve been waiting for their master.”
“Exactly what I’d hoped you’d say” Grif smiled as the thought ran through his head. “I have felt naked over the last few days without them. Let’s get me back to my natural state.” He said, taking to the air.
The next month was one in which Hammer Strike, Grif, Lunar Fang, and Pensword never saw each other. Their own separate battles were small and insignificant, not worthy of any detailed description on their own.
Grif returned to the hunt with a whole new outlook on the war. He was more discerning about who he killed and less single minded in his fights. He led his mercenaries to victories over several outposts as he hunted the Fifteen gryphons who made up the remainder of Pensword’s vengeance. when he had the final feathers, he released the mercenaries from their employment. Each headed into equestria to claim their payment from the princesses through the promissory notes Grif had given them and then disbanded to their own paths. Some decided to remain in Equestria for the remainder of their lives to see this nation that caused the devotion they saw in Grif, a Gryphon.
Pensword returned to Fortress Triumph where he either directly or indirectly secured eighty percent of the passes leading into Gryphonia, as well as having a hoof in some of the orders that secured the lands of Equestria. He was soon unable to leave his area of command as Princess Celestia and High Chiefess Princess Luna both did not want to risk losing the Commander of the Equestrian forces. The direct order hung in every gate and all the mess halls. He still led the rest of the war from the Fortress. However, not without a souvenir. After a few days a group of three black feather tips appeared hanging from his helm.
Hammer Strike returned to his home in Unity quietly. While he would have gone to fight more, he needed to keep himself out of sight. And secondly, he was still recovering physically, even if he didn’t want to admit it. He retired and slowly began crafting blueprints for future projects. In his free time, he plotted with Princess Luna on how to handle the Flame Estate. As a princess of the night, she had some marvelous tips and ideas.
Princess Luna remained during the month in Unity, having returned to rest and also to finally push her sister out from Unity. She wanted to move her own powers to take out Promethean Flame when the moment was right. She sighed as she looked at a group of letters piled on her desk. She would have to wait till after the war to move against Promethean Flame. Which irked her since she wanted to move faster. All the assets for Flame’s downfall were spread out, from Equestria to the Gryphon Lands. She had no choice but to wait for now. She hated waiting. Promethean would pay for what he did to her teacher. Stepping out of her office, she was immediately flanked by her thestral guards.
She slowly clip clopped along the hallways, ignoring the glares from some of the older nobilities. She couldn’t help but smile when she heard the news that Sergeant Blueblood had caused a stir in the circles when he openly announced his courtship of a female Thestral. She waited till an empty hallway before doing a small dance of joy at seeing the Ponies finally accepting the Thestrals. She looked forward to the future and their full integration into pony society at last. She paused as she met one of the Thestral lore keepers as they entered one of the grand halls. “We are ready to hear the tales.” She replied. “Thou didst say we would learn of the Origin Myth of the Thestrals.”
The thestrals, like most cultures, had originally left their tales to the duty of one amongst their tribe to hold and remember the stories of their people. For the dream clan, this story teller was called Dream Daze. The ancient mare was once a smokey grey with a mane and tail that reflected the blue of the night sky. But Dream Daze was a very old mare now. Her coat and mane and tail had all gone to a snowy white. The old mare smiled as she moved to the small fire in the center of the room. With permission from the Dream Clan, a Unicorn sat to the side with pen, ink, and parchment. His colorations denoted a member of Luna’s close guards and she knew he would not scoff at what might be said. He nodded once to the group that entered the room before uncapping the inkwell and dipping the feather pen into the inkwell to begin recording the origin of Thestrals. Reaching into a pouch, Dream Daze drew out a sparkling powder which she then flung into the fireplace. It flared a variety of colors as smoke filled the room, changing the atmosphere. In due course, the smoke began to take shape, shifting and changing as the old thestral spoke. And so, Dream Daze began her narration.
“Long ago, the Mother Earth was lonely. And so she decided to bring forth life upon her surface. She crafted the great dragons from the fire of Equis’ core. The gryphons, she created from the sky. The minotaurs and the rooish people she crafted from the earth. And the great and mysterious kitsune she crafted from magic itself. The animals and beasts she bore from the field. But it was the pony she made most special. Crafting us from the sky and the earth and the magic and giving to us the flame of life. Originally all ponies were the same: wingless, hornless, powerless ponies who lived together in one large herd. But the Mother Earth found the idea of her special children being in a single place, in one herd alone, disheartening. So she turned to the Sun and the Moon for aid. The Moon loved ponies and would not force them to leave if they did not wish it. But to gain the approval of Mother Earth, the Sun decided he would make the ponies move.
“One day, he found four brothers: Orion, Atlas, and Nimbus and Fog, the twins. He approached these brothers and offered them any wish if they would lead the other ponies away. Orion, the oldest brother, wished that he and those who followed him could manipulate the elements of the world and move them to their will. So the sun took one of his rays and placed it upon Orion’s head. The ray fused with the pony and became a mighty horn, granting Orion the gift of magic in it’s largest form. And so, Orion gathered those who would follow and left to find new lands. These became the first Unicorns.” Dream Daze paused for a drink, then spoke again, her eyes glowing with a fervor as she continued the ancient tale.
“The next day the Sun came back and offered the remaining three any wish in exchange for leading the remaining ponies away. Atlas wished for strength and the ability to communicate with the earth, to make it yield to him and any who followed him. So, the Sun shone brightly and the light entered into Atlas’s hooves and ears. From that moment on, he became far stronger than any pony and he could hear the song of the earth and make the fields yield to his hooves. And so, Atlas went. He gathered all who would follow him and led them to new lands. And so, these became the first Earth Ponies.
“As he did before, the Sun came back the next day and spoke to the twins. Once more, he offered them any wish they desired in return for leading the others away. His anger had grown great at seeing the stubborn ponies who had chosen to stay. And so, he threatened that on the fourth day he would turn any who remained to ashes. Fearing for his friends and loved ones, and desiring peace with the Sun, Nimbus asked for the sky so that all who followed him could walk amongst the clouds and force out the rain when they chose and force out the thunder when they liked. The Sun happily took a cloud and fashioned a pair of wings. He placed them upon Nimbus’s back and nimbus gathered all who would follow him. And a great many did follow him. For Nimbus could fly and such a thing was, at the time, unfathomable. Still, many ponies stayed behind with Fog. And Fog would not lead them away. The Sun’s anger blazed, but he had become tired from granting the gifts of flight and sky to Nimbus and his ponies. And so, he told fog that the next morning he would turn them all to ash.”
Dream Daze paused once more to take a sip from the water provided her, her face drawn in anguish. It was almost as though she were remembering what had happened all those years ago. Perhaps she could, at that. The powers of the Thestrals were still not entirely known to Luna and the others. It could very well be that Dream Daze’s special talent was to experience the very stories she told as she spoke them, that she may tell them with gravity and proper respect. Whatever the case may have been, all in the room were held under the spell of her voice. The scribe wrote furiously, so engrossed was he in the tale. The moon shone brightly through the skylight above, as if it too were anxious to hear what happened next. At last Dream Daze opened her eyes and continued. They glowed as they caught the moonlight, the reflection of the fire dancing as it flickered and snapped.
“Fog and the remaining ponies wept and wailed in their anguish well into the night. Upon seeing their sorrow, the Moon approached them, wondering why they mourned so. And so, Fog told her all that had transpired and how the Sun would surely turn them to ash in the morning. The Moon looked on these ponies, these faithful, kind, brave ponies. Moved with pity and love, she reached out and caressed them all with her silvery light. When it had passed the wings of the bat appeared on their backs, the eyes of the cat appeared in their eyes, and their ears became more sensitive so that they could better understand the sounds of the night.
“The moon comforted them and told them not to fear, that they would remain and sleep when the Sun was out on his watch. They would live under her care. But Fog cried still. For how were they to eat if nothing would grow at night? The moon reached out once more, perceiving the trouble and comforted Fog and his people with her kindness. For while the sun was prideful and direct, the Moon was humble and gentle. Once more, she took the ponies in her loving embrace. And as she did so, their teeth grew long and sharp. She told them not to fear and that they would eat of the beasts and feast on the mushrooms that enjoy the dark. Fog and his people were so grateful to her that they wept with joy. Then the Moon, so moved by the love they showed towards her, carved for them a great cave and hurried them inside. For the day was almost upon them, and with it would come the terrible Sun, ready to fulfill his threats. When all her new children were inside, she shut the door to keep the Sun from finding them. For in the darkness of the caves, no sunlight could pierce through. And so the Sun was blind to their location. He searched high and low, roving the sky in a great arc, but never could he find the ponies who dared to defy him.
And so, Fog and his fellow ponies kept living under the care of the Moon, emerging each night to admire their savior and gather their food. Fog and his fellows united under her rule. But the Moon soon realized that they needed a leader to guide and govern them. For she could not be with them always. So she took Fog aside one night to a sacred place, and there, she kissed his forehead. Fog was filled with her light. And in that moment, his mane and tail turned white and a great white star appeared on his forehead where her lips had touched him.
As the recipient of this blessing, Fog was granted three gifts. First, he was given the gift of dream walking, which gave him the power to enter the world of dreams that he may protect his people from nightmares and see the secret plans of their enemies as they slumbered, both without and within. Secondly, she granted him the gift of future sight, that he may know where his decisions may lead him and how to find the best path to the future. Lastly, she granted him the gift of the sight beyond, that he may see beyond the world of the living and commune with the dead, allowing him to bring them peace.
Weeping, the Moon gave Fog a cloak of stars and instructed him to lead her children wisely. She would not be able to visit them any more. For the Sun had guessed what she had done and she knew it was only a matter of time until he began to pursue her, dogging her steps to take his revenge upon them. But before she left, she gave Fog a promise. So long as he and his descendants lived, her gifts, her love, and her influence would always be with them. She stayed with him long enough to open the cave and allow him through. Then she said her last goodbyes and fled, weeping. This is why the moon waxes and wanes. For all things come in cycles, even joy and grief. When she draws near to her children, she is happy and grows full in her joy. But then the Sun begins to follow her, and she must flee again to lead him away. And so she weeps and wanes until her sorrow is gone and she is spent. It is on these nights that darkness is greatest, for it is the time of the new moon. Even the Sun loses sight of her, and so she is given the hope of drawing near to her children again and the cycle begins anew.
“As a final unintended gift, Fog gathered the tears of the Moon and brought them inside the cave. There, he gathered the herd together and proclaimed himself High Chief. The tears hardened, but their gentle light still shone to grant the ponies light and remind them of she who gave them so much. These were the first moon stones. Using his gift of future sight, Fog gave each stone to a pony he trusted and invested leadership to them, dividing up the ponies into several groups. For their numbers were too great to be ruled by any one pony alone. So these ponies became the great leaders of the past. And so, the thestral tribes were born. To this day, the blessings of the Moon still shine upon us, and Fog’s descendents continue to protect and defend his people throughout the ages, the chosen of our dear adopted mother: The Moonkissed.” The smoke dissipated as Dream Daze closed her story and returned to her water, her face drawn and weary from telling the tale.
Luna sat silent as she listened and looked to the ceiling and her charge. Somehow, she felt like she was completing a purpose and gathering the ponies together. The sun and this Earth characters seemed to be wishing to spread out, and yet, she and her sister were gathering in the lost ponies to become a much more powerful herd. She smiled. Now that the Thestrals were joining, what would pony society look like in a thousand years?
“Commander Pensword?” A guard entered the great hall, a nervous looking zebra following closely behind him. “This courier claims he is carrying a package with specific instructions and that it was to be put straight into your hooves.” The guard saluted.
“Who is it from?” Commander Pensword asked as he moved from the windows towards the Zebra. Just seeing the Zebra, he had a sneaking suspicion who it was, but he was going to be on guard all the same. He held a wing at the ready to move in case something attacked him. The three black tipped feathers hung from his helm, taken from an assassin that had tried to kill him in the night at Fort Triumph. It is rather hard to kill a pony when he is surrounded by ghosts who do not want him dead.
“I was hired by a large black gryphon with green chest plumage,” the zebra began. “He said simply to tell you that justice is done,” the zebra said, retrieving a large bundle wrapped in skins and tied with cord.
Pensword’s body language changed. “Very well. Place it on the table and leave the hallway,” He ordered. “Thank you for bringing this to me. You may have been paid by the Gryphon, but let me pay you for your troubles as well.” He reached into a pouch and pulled out two beaks and three gold bits, plus two mid sized rubies. “I hope this sees you safe and warm to your home.” He looked to his men. “Fill his food and canteen rations before he leaves. Also, if he needs a place to sleep, let him stay the night and have him eat breakfast with the men before he moves back out into the wilds.”
The zebra did as he was bidden, bowing his head. “Thank you for your kindness,” he said before leaving the room.
Pensword waited for the others to leave the room before he slashed open the bindings. Slowly, he unwrapped the hides around it. He noticed that they had been waterproofed as well. He paused before throwing the last layer off the package.
Inside, a pillow stared up at him made from a fine, tough cotton cloth that would hold up under normal use. The trim was sewn together using a deep crimson thread and the word ‘JUSTICE’ was sewn in gold thread across the face of it. Running a hoof over the pillow, Pensword could feel the feathers and down beneath the surface. A message with Grifs seal was pinned to the side.
Using his own wing and hoof, a part of him wondered how he could even do what he was doing as he opened the letter to read what his friend had written. He looked to the pillow once more, pondering its ultimate fate as well. It would do well in the parlor of his quarters for visitors to see. He doubted he would put his head to the pillow save for crashing naps. Still not sure exactly what to do with the gift, Pensword returned to the letter he now held in his hoof.
Dear pensword,
I managed to get the last name off the list three hours before the writing of this letter. I had to send it by official carrier because I found him having fled to one of the southern Zebra controlled port islands. The shore is too far for a day’s flight and our ship will not sail for another two days. until then, I think I’ve had my fill of combat (save one whom you yourself will know the identity of) for the time being. Please inform Luna and Celestia I will not be there for the last battle at fort destiny. Here’s to you as I enjoy a drink on the beach.
your friend,
Grif bladefeather (taze)
P.S. vacation is nice.
Pensword snorted a laugh as he finished reading the letter before folding it up and tucking it back under the pillow. Picking both up, he placed them between his body and a wing and carried them towards his office to send the requested letter. He had an odd feeling in his stomach about this battle, but he could not think why.
Fort Destiny had been the first fortress the gryphons had set up when they came from across the sea. It had only been improved in the time the gryphons had been present. It sat on a large flat plateau overlooking the coast. The walls where made of stone that had been overlaid and plated with large sections of steel over the years. From three sides a sheer drop awaited as a steep cliff overlooked the cove. Sharp rocks stuck out of the water. The front was devoid of trees, shrubs or any sort of cover for well over five hundred feet, meaning the Equestrian army lay in full view of the gryphons. Their archers mercilessly pelted them with arrows and catapult stones.
At the opposite end of the field, soldiers fought to gain precious little ground. Celestia sat inside her tent in the center of the Equestrian camp looking over the results from previous sieges and battles, current costs, and even some promises of further support from Zebrica.
It was around this time that a member of the solar guard entered into the tent carrying a scroll. “The information you requested, your majesty.”
“The casualty reports from the sieges of Fort Abundance and Fort Dynasty have been tallied with the rest of the war and our own current numbers then?” Celestia asked.
“That is correct. These are the latest as of a week ago.” He reported. “There are some footnotes concerning some deaths that turned out to be false, but other than that, this is our current number.” He spoke as he placed the scroll on her traveling desk.
Celestia picked the scroll up in her magic and unfurled it, her eye’s quickly scanning the information within. When she came to the number of confirmed deaths on equestria’s end the scroll dropped like a stone from her grasp. “Tweleve thousand seven hundred and thirty four?” she asked, her voice wavering between disbelieving and dazed.
“Guardsmen, tell our forces to cease firing and pull back” Her tone brooked no argument and the guard left immediately, frightened as she stood up, her eyes sparking. Internally her mind raced. Twelve thousand. Twelve thousand of her precious little ponies would not be returning home. Sons, daughters, mothers, fathers, aunts, uncles, brothers, … sisters. Never to be seen again by their families. The air around Celestia rippled slightly as she exited her tent, the fabric cover browning as she passed it. The air temperature rose so high that grass and flowers began to dry and wilt as she passed, her hooves leaving black markings behind her as she exited the camp. The colours of her mane shifted from pink and blue to orange and red as flames began to become visible. The ground beneath her turned red with every step. Then white, the scorched earth and melted stone leaving a trail attesting to Celestial temper. The gryphons would pay for their actions. They would learn why she was the alicorn of the sun. This war ended now. Gryphon arrows evaporated as they approached her, the wood and metal not having time to even burn or melt. They were simply vaporized.
She stopped in front of the gryphon fortress, her eye’s blazing orange, blue and red flames billowing from them. Her horn ignited, completely covered in her now burning magic. At her command, miles above her, the atmosphere moved out of the way, creating a small pin head sized hole. The Unrelenting heat and fury of the sun fell through with nothing to temper its blaze.
At first the gryphons found such a tiny beam of light laughable. At least until the heat began to rise. A gryphon nearby was gone in an instant leaving not even ashes in his wake. The heat spread outwards as stone melted like butter. Wood and gryphons evaporated in the unbridled fury of the sun. The ground withered and died.
In a matter of seconds the hole closed, the sun’s fury sated as in the stead of a fortress, a monument of twisted and melted stone stood, a testament to the power and the ire of the princess. The ground around what had been the fort now blackened and burned. The heat around celestia dissipated. Her eyes and mane returned to normal as the alicorn turned. And with nary a word she returned to her tent, tears streaming down her face as she marched, ignoring the fearful looks of the troops and the hushed silence that covered the land.
The gryphon war was over. She could expect a formal surrender from the emperor within a month.
Promethean Flame sat in his home in Unity. He smiled as the news spread that the war was over. Now that the war was done, he could work on furthering his goals and plans. He looked to his side as one of his aides walked up and whispered something into his ear. A moment of concern flashed behind his eyes, but he quickly composed himself. He signaled his guards to step forward and around the hall, cutting off any real routes save one: the main doors. “Let them enter,” he ordered with a smile.
Quite suddenly the fire in the fireplace and all the candles lining the room were put out by a stiff wind, despite all the windows being closed. There was a thud in the dark as something fell clumsily in front of promethean flame’s hooves. The unicorn was quick to light the nearest candle, only to reveal one of the guards he’d just dispatched dead at his hooves, his face twisted slightly in pain.
“Having problems?” He heard a voice call out from behind him as some candles in the room lit suddenly lit with blue fire.
“W… Who’s there?” Promethean Flame turned around quickly. “There are armed guards outside.” He threatened. Another guard dropped dead from the roof at his hooves.
“I am sorry to say, but your assassins will not be joining us.” The voice called once again. Promethean’s blood began to race. It sounded almost like … but no, that was impossible.
“W...Who are you?” He shouted. “Some thestral assassin sent to kill me by those upstarts?”
“Worse.”
Two orbs of blue fire collected themselves in the darkness and began to move towards him at a slow pace. Eventually they entered the light to reveal their point of origin. Hammer Strike was slowly walking towards him, a grizzly phantom wearing his typical blue overcoat with a gold trim. A piece of his ear was missing and many scars marred his fur coat. The orbs of fire trailed back to the spectre’s eyes.
“H-hammer Strike?” He spoked in genuine surprise. “But … but you are dead!”
“I will say the same to you, as I did to my ‘interrogator.’” Hammer Strike said. “What is my title to the Gryphons?” He questioned as an orb of fire formed next to his side.
“Celestia’s Ghost...” Promethean said, his voice trembling.
“There are reasons for such titles.” Hammer Strike said as he continued to walk towards Promethean. Promethian darted his eyes left and right as he backed away from him, trying to find any way to escape. “I am not dead. Not today, not tomorrow, not by your hooves, and certainly not by your ‘assassins!’” Hammer Strike’s voice rose in a grand crescendo.
Promethean stumbled over something as he backed away. He looked down to see yet another guard’s dead body, a dagger protruding from his chest. Promethean made for it only for a throwing blade to embed itself into his leg just above the hoof.
The noble cried in pain as he grabbed his hoof. Attempting to remove the blade only brought more pain from the barbs along its edge.
“Promethean Flame.” Hammer Strike’s voice echoed with a deadly finality, causing the unicorn to look up at him and witness, to his ever mounting terror, more orbs of fire forming and surrounding Hammer Strike, each one trailing away from him on a thin line of fluid flame. The rug, tapestries and other objects of value and power began to catch fire one by one. “I am your Judge. I am the Jury. You have been charged with treason to the crown, treason against a noble, conspiracy to murder, divulging of Equestrian secrets, Making sure that your forces were stronger than those around you, using said troops to strip lands from other nobles, Blackmailing no less than four Noble Houses to do your dirty work, Accepting Military Payment from the Enemy Forces, Aiding said enemy by selling Ponies to them who loyally serve the houses that will not kneel to you,-”
“And being a jerk!!” A voice yelled from the rafters.
Hammer Strike smirked “With that, you are hereby found Guilty!” He stomped his hoof into the ground with a loud bang. The heavy stone slab that made up the floor to the great hall cracked beneath his hoof.
“Here here!” Echoed from the rafters.
“And with that sentence passed,” Hammer strike paused, a grim smile covering his muzzle as his eyes continued to burn. His voice was cold and dark, and it seared Promethean’s insides with a cold flame. “I am your Executioner.” Hammer Strike growled, stopping before Promethean, making sure he could feel the heat of the fire that was to come.
Promethean Flame stared into Hammer Strikes eye’s in fear, a living specter come back from the dead. “H...How did I lose?” He asked.
“Truth is…” The fires around Hammer Strike grew in intensity. “The game was rigged from the start.”
The Flame estate was mercifully on the farther edges of Unity. Their nearest neighbours were far enough away not to be able to see more then a light in the horizon had they bothered to awaken.
Grif stared into the flames of the burning estate with a grin as he roasted marshmallows on a stick. “It’s a s'mores moment...” was his only response to asking why.
Hammer Strike walked out of the front of the building moments later after ensuring everything was properly ‘lit’.
Pensword was looking over carts being filled by other ponies, mainly the Gryphon Slayers’. Overseeing it all was Princess Luna to give the crown authority of what would result in the death of an entire family estate. He frowned as another bag of beaks was dumped into a cart. “Enough evidence to show even the most stubborn noble just what Flame was doing,” he growled. Pensword turned and looked to his men. “Blue Vase, load the library cart carefully this time around. Apple Core, your family has first dibs to any farmland that might have been under the Flame name. So says the Commander of the Equestrian Forces in disposing of the traitor’s lands.” He smiled grimly at Hammer Strike. “As the ruling Lord who found this out and brought this traitor to light, you get all his lands in Unity, no way out of it.” He looked to the wealth. “Also first dibs on any wealth from the estate in Unity.” He looked to Princess Luna as she wrote something in a book. “And now you can do whatever you want with the land. It is recorded.”
“Put the wealth towards those who could use it more, for example, keep it for you and the ‘gryphon slayers.’” He smiled.
Pensword paused and looked to Hammer Strike. “Even shares then. Anything that is not evenly split shall be given to charity under the management of High Chieftess Princess Luna.” Pensword’s voice barked out. “I think we can use this to start another training academy. Something that is a little bit in our own flavor.” That caused some laughs. “Permission to claim the Promethean war flags as another standard in our collection?” he asked Lord Hammer Strike.
“Sure. It is either that or it gets burned with the rest.”
“Claimed! It is ours!” Came the shout of all twenty Gryphon Slayer voices. Pensword smiled and looked at some of the cutlery. “Blue Vase.” He called out. The Pegasus soldier and medic slowly trotted over to him. “See that cart of jewels and cutlery?” She nodded. “That is your gift from me to you and Apple Core.” He spoke as she stood gasping in shock. “I have my ways.” He said in response. “Besides, with the war over, I doubt I could perform your wedding. However, consider this as a wedding gift to start your family off right. Try growing some apples.” He replied with a cryptic smile. “I look forward to seeing your descendants some day.”
Grif smiled as he finished making his s’mores. Handing one to Hammer Strike, Lunar Fang and Pensword he spoke a brief toast. “Here is too good friends, justifiable revenge, and loot.” He smiled as he bit into his. In all of those pieces of treasure, Grif had taken only two small chests with the gold he himself had found on his way out and the silver that was his share for night. He also laid claim to a sack of golden beaks as being the only gryphon there, he technically had first call on them.
Pensword looked around the group and pulled Lunar Fang into a wing embrace as she munched on her s’more. “So, what is left?” He asked Princess Luna as the fires played in the background.
“Attendance to the peace treaty. At the moment my sister is willing to leave some land to the Gryphons on our landmass.” She smiled. “With heavy war tribute to be paid and disbanding the majority of their armies left, of course.”
“And then we head to the Crystal Empire,” Grif said. “Hunting the trouble makers.”
“Agreed. I shall be bringing the Gryphon Slayers minus Hurricane, Apple Core, and Blue Vase.” Pensword paused and looked to the Major. “As one of the last things to do before the peace is official, I hereby promote thee to Colonel. And as a sign of trust while I am away fighting troublemakers, till I return, you shall keep hold of this.” He pulled out his pitchfork. “Concord. While it has not seen much battle after it drew Dragon Blood, it is still an emblem of my power and position. Protect it above all else. I name thy house also the stewards of the lands that I may control after the war.”
“I will be taking Tall Oak, Little Willow, and Shrial. After all this the Emperor will be after her head, treaty or not,” Grif said he produced his curved swords, the ones he purchased before coming to house hurricane. They were chipped and dented in places from the nigh constant efforts of battle. “Here, princess. Give them these if it will state them, or do what you want with them. They are the blades of a different Grif. I don’t ever want to draw them again.”
Princess Luna looked at the blades. “They shall find an honorable place. You may count on that.” She replied as she took the weapons in her telekinetic grasp.
Princess Celestia, Princess Luna, Starswirl the Bearded, and Pensword waited in front of the summit table. When asked where to accept the surrender of the gryphon king Comedius the 16th of what had formerly been the sixth gryphon kingdom. Celestia had decided it would send the greatest message to hold the meeting in front of the remains of fort destiny. A large wooden table had been brought to the spot from within triumph and set in front of the fort.
At noon the drums could be heard as a single column of gryphons marched uneasily into the area, five breadth by five deep, nothing to the sheer number of ponies gathered around them. Behind them, King Comedius marched with his head held high, attempting to save what little face he no longer had. The young gryphon was largely built with well kept white feathers speckled with black. The column parted as the king moved through it to the table at a measured pace. When he reached it he begrudgingly bowed his head. “Princess Celestia, Princess Luna, Commander,” the gryphon nodded to each.
Princess Celestia and Princess Luna nodded their heads and the group sat down. At either side the two living highest ranking leaders of King Comedius’ military stood to also affix their signature and seal to the treaty. Commander Pensword spoke, having been agreed upon to be the spokesman for the Pony side.
“Because of the wars which thou hast waged against us, this being the third, and most brutal, we of the Equestrian Empire, with our Ally The Crystal Empire do hereby claim all Gryphon lands on this landmass. You have been given time to become allies, friends to us. Instead, you have chosen wage war, and this last time, genocide. No more. All lands are to be absorbed by either empire at a later date. As for all Gryphons who do not wish to forsake intelligent meat and live by the Northern Isles’ code of life, they shall have five years to book passage back to your homelands or they will be considered hostile invaders and treated as such, to be imprisoned and dealt with on a case by case manner.” He glared at the King.
“Also, the Gryphon Empire will pay for the war and lost lives with a total of fifty thousand beaks paid out over a twenty year time frame. While we do want payment, we do not wish to destabilize your nation’s economy.” He motioned to the five treaties, each in a language of the combatants, including Dragonic to be given to Heymin. Pensword looked to the Gryphon King. “Please, begin the signatures.” Mentally he had performed some calculations. In the present day, that blood payment would be in the high millions, accounting for inflation and other factors.
The next five minutes passed in silence as the Treaties were signed, all an exact copy. They soon stood across from one another at the table. The two Military leaders, as a final show of surrender, drew their scabbards with their blades still housed. They placed them on the table in front of Commander Pensword and Princess Luna. King Comedius stood as he placed a pouch that held the symbols of his kingdom on the table. It was at this moment that a cry rang through the air. A moment later six Gryphons lay dead. Celestia did not know what to think. They did not attack her. Their only targets appeared to be gryphons. She looked up in shock as the Gryphons as one seemed to snap their beaks shut. The Royal Guards of King Comedius all fell to the ground with froth around their beaks.
Pensword looked sick as the two Princesses stared in horror. “Did-?” Pensword looked to a tent where Grif, Shrial, Little Willow, and Tall Oak were hiding. “What happened?” He yelled to the tent. No Gryphon in the meeting had survived.
“Assassins,” Grif said, limping out of the tent, dragging a bloody cloak and throwing it at pensword’s feet. “Punishment for failing the empire.” He spat on the cloak.
“And the suicides?” he asked, moving a wing to the dead Gryphon Royal Guards.
“Joseph Stallion,” Grif said, as if that one name should hold some meaning of an answer.
“Great.” Pensword looked to the treaties.” They are binding,” He muttered as he saw a few robed Gryphons moving with blood spattered robes. Pensword moved to attack only to have a taloned fist raise up in a motion of peace.
“We only wish to collect the treaty. To deliver and be printed to every city we have left. We shall leave in five years. The Emperor shall have his copy.”
“Then go. And if you kill anypony on your way, know the avatar of winds will be at your tail,” Grif responded, repeating the sentence in Gryphic. The black tips nodded as they took the treaty and left. Grif turned to pensword “And with that, we are finished here,” Grif said in Draconic. “We can finally go home.”
“Yes, though I might have to crash at your place till I decide where home is.” Pensword replied in Equish. “As well as deciding what is to become of Mountainside Falls. Still, the war is over and I look forward to the celebrations.” He smiled softly as Luna rolled up the Commander’s copy of the treaty. Another item for his historical museum upon returning to the present.
“I am afraid the party will have to wait.” A new voice spoke up as a gryphoness approached the two. She was rather small with the oddest coloration. Her fur was a light grayish purple and her crest was bright blond. “My father sends his apologies, but he couldn’t make it. Fixed time and timey wimey and all that stuff,” she rambled off in Draconic. “I’m your ride.”
The guards were trying to make sense of what to do. They held their weapons out to try and block this new Gryphoness, but at the same time, she was speaking Draconic, and the others were not reacting ill to this. Pensword moved a wing. “Stand down. She is a friend of Grif’s. She helped him out in a few tight spots.” True, he lied, but it did help to calm them down. And in this case, the truth was not an option.
He looked to the Gryphoness. “Very well,” he spoke in Draconic. “Let me get some things. Where do you want to meet and in how much time?”
“A day. In the remains of the hooves house. I need to bring back some records if i can find them. Mom deserves to know where she comes from,” the gryphoness said. “Remember. Meet me there in twenty four hours.”
“Uh, a week is the closest travel time for us.” Pensword replied, still in Draconic. “That is in,” he grimaced and tried again. “That is near Mountainside Falls.”
“Huh? Oh! Oh, thats right, this is way back in time. Sorry, still getting lost to this whole time travel thing. Also, it seems I’m a bit ditzy now. I don’t exactly like it, you know. I liked being smart,” she said.
“You are not ditzy. You just got excited. And I know many smart Ponies and Gryphons that get mixed up at times.” He sighed. “Just, let me get ready.” He sighed as a pained looked crossed his muzzle. “Shall we depart?” he asked in Equis.
The hooves estate, or what was left of it, was a far cry from the familiar building Pensword had grown up under. The shadow of the beautiful wooden archways were now nothing but charcoal. The great works of art were gone. The finely woven carpet was naught but cinders lying on the floor. In the center of the building a purple box stood waiting in the middle of the room. The surrounding ponies and gryphons stood perplexed, wondering how this small, weirdly shaped box would allow them to go anywhere. Pensword stood to the side of what had once been the grand ballroom, trying to hold it together as he was surrounded by fourteen of his Gryphon Slayers plus one medium to large cart of battle flags and one treaty they had collected from the war. It also carried the combined gear and possessions they were bringing into the future plus a joint ownership chest of gold, silver, and jewels to be divided up fairly once they arrived at their destination.
“Are you sure about this?” Grif asked shrial one last time as they waited. “Once we do this, there is no coming back here”
“And is there anything here for me to go back to, pray tell? I am not about to leave you alone. After all, you need someone to keep you in line. And I am curious to learn of this future where Gryphons and Ponies live in harmony.”
Grif smiled, but said nothing as they waited on the young time lady. He had only a cart with a few chests of gold behind him. The rest of his spoils from war had been strategically placed and enchanted so he could recover them in the future.
The door finally opened, revealing the gryphoness. She looked at the group with a raised eyebrow. “Taking a lot with you guys, huh?” she asked.
Pensword took a deep breath. “I am not leaving the colors and flags we captured in this war. I do not trust time.” He looked to his men. “I know how much you distrust what is about to happen. However, my mind is made up. I am going back.” He blinked back tears. “Lunar Fang. Please ... I need a sedative, I...” his mouth trembled a little as his eyes could not stop moving about the room. “I still remember when I was invited to this ballroom. The finery, the gold, the music. Now look at it.” His voice bespoke the scar he carried on his heart. His loved ones had been avenged, but he still needed time to heal.
He sat on the ground on a tarp that had been placed down as Lunar Fang put a cup in his hooves. Around them his men slowly took a drink from their own cups. All of them were nervous about what was going to happen.
A minute later only Lunar Fang was awake as Pensword could not handle the situation. She sighed both in sorrow and love for her mate. “Dinky, Pensword can bring them with him, right? We cannot risk having problems with the Crystal Empire, with ponies knowing him running into him and him not knowing them.”
“well, they did vanish from history,” Dinky noted. “Dad wouldn’t like it ... but you know what, it’s not like doing this is going to summon time reapers or beak the shadow proclamation or anything,” dinky said.
“Good, because I would have fought those things to make sure my mate had a little peace from this place.” She looked around the charred remains. “I wish I could have seen this in a way other than a burned out ruin.” She looked to Grif and his party with a smile. “Why don’t you go first?”
“I admit, I am curious to see how all of this and us are going to fit into that little box,” Shrial said.
“it’s smaller on the outside,” Grif told her. He smiled to little willow and tall oak, who slept soundly in the cart. Then he grabbed the cart and pulled it forward as they headed to the box. Dinky opened the doors fully to let them in. Grif grinned knowingly as he waved to shrial to enter first.
Shrial entered the doors to see the massive control room. Her eyes widened in surprise at the technology, but having been warned by Grif already, she was somewhat prepared for the space. “Huh, it’s bigger on the inside. Is this some sort of futuristic enchantment?”
“Not entirely. The easiest way to explain is that she contains her own universe,” Grif said, pulling the cart through the door. “Come on, let’s move farther in.”
“This place holds an entire universe? Surely you must be joking. Nothing can hold an entire universe. That’s far too big,” She scoffed.
“Hey hey hey, would you like someone calling you a place? She’s a she, and it’s only a small universe. A pocket universe, really,” Grif said as he pulled the cart until it was out of the way. “Sorry about that. You’re very beautiful. She just doesn’t know who she’s talking to,” Grif said. “This ship’s a living thing,” Grif told shrial. “It thinks and feels like the rest of us.”
“So it is like a golem?”
Grif looked around to no one in particular and shrugged apologetically. “Well, got to say, she has her father’s taste. I like the round things.” Grif noted. He turned to the sound of clanging metal and creaking wheels. “Hammer Strike?”
“Yeah?” He heard Hammer Strike respond. He was wearing his typical blue and gold overcoat with a dress shirt underneath. He had a few swords and a hammer on him while he pulled a cart full of ponies, specifically the Gryphon Slayers and Pensword. Lunar Fang followed behind, pulling the Gryphon Slayers’ war prizes as well as the copies of the deeds to the lands that they were entitled to, a few odds and ends, and some money for the future to sell at a higher price to seed the construction funds.
“Well. Back to the future, I guess?” Dinky asked, going to the controls.
“Does it have to be a direct trip?” Grif asked. “I mean, I think we could all use the downtime of a little intergalactic sightseeing.”
“Well I do know this nice little restaurant at the end of the universe,” Dinky noted.
“Considering we have a cart full of ponies we might have to make that a quick trip,” Hammer Strike commented.
“Let’s go!” Grif smiled.
Dinky turned her ultraviolet screwdriver to Pensword and gave a momentary zap before pulling the wobbly lever and the tardis began to groan.
Pensword opened his eyes and looked around in shock. “Wait… Where am I?” he asked as he sat up as his wife looked at him. He looked around him. “Oh, the up and down pillar!” he commented as he pointed to the middle console with a hoof, a smile on his muzzle before his ears twitched. “Oh, I like that sound. Sounds like a key on a piano string.”
Extended Holiday Chp 39: Return to Old Beginnings Act 5
Pensword found that while he could explore the Tardis if he wanted to, he preferred to watch Dinky run around the console as she banged something or threw a lever. At one point she actually threw a switch while flapping her wings to keep her hovering in the air. “Do you want-?” Pensword began to ask a question.
“Oh no, I can fly my Tardis on my own. How do you think I stay fit? Runing around time and space and keeping the lady running is hard work, but fun.” She smiled as she settled down for a little bit, letting the sound of the engines sing through the air. The main console looked a little more like the console from the fifth Doctor’s Tardis than what Pensword remembered seeing in two thousand twelve. He paused and frowned. As he frowned he could have sworn he saw Dinky smile as a ding came from the console. “Well now, that is good. Past Dinky shouldn’t be where we are going to land now.I would rather not meet my younger self. While Dad’s stories are fun to hear, I think I’m a little young to go meeting my younger self just yet.”
“Dinky,” Pensword started suddenly, looking like he was trying to process, putting his thoughts to words even as they came to him. “I am still trying to understand just what happened. Grif and I have both lived two lives. I was alive and lived a life before hoof and, well, now look at me. I can not speak in contractions, I have a hatred of Gryphons I did not have before, and I see my parents as Thestrals and humans both. It hurts to think about the past life and I guess I just worry I will let the human side go.” he blushed and looked to his mate. “I have gone pretty native as they might say. I got a wife for a mate and everything.” And so, at last, Pensword gave voice to one of his deepest fears in the comfort of the control room to the Tardis.
“You also found love, got rich, and did many things you’ve been told all your life you’d never survive to do,” Grif said, laughing as he approached his old friend from behind.
Pensword’s left ear rotated to Grif’s location as they heard an audible sigh. “Still, at what cost? Never to see my family again? The immigrants had time to prepare to leave home for a new world. I was ripped from my home, from my family.” He shook his head and looked to Lunar Fang. “Dear, I love you with all my heart. it pains me to know you may never meet my family, and I… I never got to say goodbye. The last words I got to say were ‘I will be right back, I just need to check out front in case the text got...’” He choked, his voice caught up as tears stood in his eyes.
“Pensword, if you say the word ‘never’ one more time, I will get dinky to turn this tardis right around right now, Grif interrupted. “What has her father, of all people, taught us? Is the future set in stone? Is time simply point A to point B?” Grif bore down on his friend, his eyes burning with passion. “Never say never. We will go back. At least for a while.”
Pensword chuckled before loosing a gruff. “I am sorry.” He sat down. Lunar Fang moved and began to rub a wing up and down along his back and feathers.
“You just have a lot of emotions from what you saw back there.” She said sagely as she kissed him on the check. “Just take a few breaths. You’ll be fine.” She chuckled as he flinching at the contradiction. “You’d better be ready. The future is full of them.”
“I know, and I use to use them as well.” He stared at the wall of the Tardis. “I just feel messed up. Maybe I am. When we get home I might schedule time for a Psych evaluation.”
“I think we may need to get Hammer Strike one too.” Grif noted. “Isn’t that right, Hammer Strike?” Grif called. He heard Hammer Strike hum in question. “You’re going to need to see a shrink when we get home, right?” Grif repeated.
“Considering I haven’t the faintest idea of ‘home,’ possibly.” Hammer Strike responded. “Really need to figure something out about that...”
“What about you, anyway?” Dinky asked Grif “You’ve been through a considerable amount in the past few months”
“you didn’t notice?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.
“Notice what?” Dinky asked with a raised eyebrow.
“Gryphons are genetically incapable of PTSD,” he said. “When the fighting’s done we go back to living our lives. No guilt, no nightmares, and only physical scars.”
“Lucky.” Pensword muttered as he shivered. “I still can feel what they did to my town. The nightmares may have abated, but the… pain, is still there.” He looked to his friend and looked away as Shrial listened from her spot on one of the ramps leading away from the console room. “I can still feel and see what I saw that night. I doubt I could stand seeing more Gryphons together, even unarmed.” He looked to his squad strewn out sleeping. “At least I shall not be the only one out of place in time.”
“Spending thirty or so years in the past would do that.” Hammer Strike responded.
“Thirty?” Pensword muttered. “That includes the time we grew up?” He looked to Grif. “How old are you now? Going off the new birthdays?” he asked his friends. “I recall that I am now … Twenty Two, I think.”
“Before we came back I was twenty three. Now I’m twenty four, I think.” The gryphon shrugged. “My childhood was more about battling. Gryphons don’t do the whole birthday thing, it’s more, ‘first time beating up a rival’ or ‘congratulations, you killed a dangerous predator.’”
“Uhh…” Hammer Strike paused. “Tough to recall…”
“Your time must have been more confusing than the rest of us,” Grif noted.
“Well, being in a golem that does not age somewhat does that.” Hammer responded.
“So… what’s the plan for once we get back?” Grif asked. “I mean, once we get Unity set up?”
“Considering I have very little to remember, perhaps you both can help refresh some memories?” Hammer Strike suggested.
“Get a variation of Hammer Strike’s wall up around the camp against any creatures of the forest. I would like to integrate the Gryphon Slayers into teaching a cadre of the guards, and maybe finish a barracks so we can call in the rest of those guards we need to reform?” He moved a wing towards Grif’s position. “What about you, my friend? Any ideas?”
Shrial shivered at hearing those words as she sidled up beside Grif. “It still unnerves me hearing Pensword call you a friend after his actions in the war.”
“You must remember, my actions were far worse,” grif told her. “For every speck of gryphon blood on his hooves, I have claim to a river.”
She nodded her head. “Yet we two are the only ones that lived past a judgement call in person.” She recited from the rumors that had reached her ears by the end of the war. “I still see that fire in his eyes from the day he killed my father and allowed you to take me into your clan.”
“Maybe, but it was he who decided to spare you in the first place.” He paused and looked at Shrial closely. “You haven’t eaten in a bit. There is a kitchen in the back there. I’m sure dinky wouldn’t mind if you found yourself something to eat.”
She bowed her head. “I have not forgotten. And I am forever grateful for that.” She smiled shyly when he mentioned the food as her stomach growled. “I think I will take your advice.” She said as she started to move. She casually swung her tail behind her, accidentally brushing her tail beneath Grif’s beak as she walked past, nearly rubbing against him. She paused after she passed, turning around to face him again. “Would you like me to bring something back for you?”
“No, I’ll be fine. And remember, don’t bow. Remember, you're a gryphoness: part eagle, part lioness. Hold your head high and address others with direct eye contact.” he said.
She turned to look into his eyes. “I know, Grif. I’m not the same girl you knew when first we met. I have changed … in many ways.” She winked at him with a sly smile. Let me know if you change your mind. If you need me, I shall be in the kitchen preparing a meal.” She turned and started to walk away. Once she was out of sight and heairng, Dinky began to laugh.
“I think she is going to have more fun with the appliances in the Kitchen than she will eating.” She chuckled a little before looking serious. “Sorry for the wait. The T.A.R.D.I.S appears to be making her own choice of stopping at the moment.”
“She’ll get us there.” Grif smiled, patting the lit up pillar in the center of the control pannen gently. “She’s just taking her time taking us…. through time….” He scowled. “Great. Now I’m confused. And worse yet, I did it to myself. Pensword, you’re rubbing off on me. Stop it.”
Pensword couldn’t help but laugh. “Welcome to my world. Just don’t hurt yourself in your confusion.”
For the last hour the gallery had been empty. After the gryphon doctor had left with Hammer Strike and lunar fang the pony doctor had taken his leave, reappearing in the outer camp to pick up the CMC and take them back to ponyville. Celestia and Luna had returned to Canterlot to continue governing Equestria as they normally did. The sound of the T.A.R.D.I.S appearing in the gallery went totally unnoticed by anypony save the people inside it.
For Grif, the sensation of leaving the tardis was bittersweet. The air seemed both new and stale. The room held a strange sense of familiarity. And yet it seemed totally alien as he looked around, his wings on edge.
Pensword and Lunar Fang worked together to pull out the carts with the sleeping Gryphon Slayers and their War Trophies from the past. Shrial strode out behind the cart holding the sleeping ponies, assisting by helping to push it along. She paused as she caught sight of the painting in front of her and the old, worn steps that led to a platform designed to view the painting. Lunar Fang and Pensword looked to Grif. “Is this what you wanted to show us?” Lunar Fang asked as she gazed at the painting again.
The painting stood boldly, its colored dashes and strokes combining to form a perfect replica of the two’s wedding. Armed Thestrals and ponies gathered around, congratulating the happy couple. A depiction of grif stood smiling beside Pensword as the best man while Luna presided over the ceremony. Even Hammer Strike was in there, standing off to the side in the shadows. The main focus of the painting, however, drew all eyes to the beautiful couple in the center. The light of the colors seemed to surround them in a halo, emphasizing the depth of their love for one another as they stared into each other’s eyes.
Pensword blushed as he looked to his mate. “They caught our good sides, it would appear.” He chuckled, giving the side of her muzzle a nuzzle.
Lunar Fang blushed and stared. “So that was what the T.A.R.D.I.S was hiding. I can see now that if we saw it, a lot of the stress would have disappeared.” She turned and smiled. “If I had seen this before, I might have done this much sooner.” She brought Pensword into a deep kiss, muzzle to muzzle.
“They foresaw your good side, more like. Take a look at the plaque on the corner when you finally manage to disengage.” Grif said, teasing as he pointed to a small tarnished plaque at the bottom right corner of the painting.
The two slowly broke the kiss with longing in their eyes. But further acts of affection would have to wait. They approached the painting, following Grif. The closer they drew, the larger the painting seemed to lomb. By the time they reached it, it was as big as Big Mac. They leaned in to the read who the mysterious artist was. ‘The Odd Party’ … Moonbeam of the Dream Clan.
Pensword moved a hoof out and touched the name. “Oh, mom.” he whispered. “Faust was kind in showing thee the sights that would be taken from thee. Though I feel thou dost see them still as a ghost. I miss thee.” He muttered as he sniffed back some tears.
“See? That’s why i couldn’t say anything,” grif said as he pulled his cart out of the tardis. During the time they had spent admiring the artistry, he had slipped away to continue the unloading. “Now, Celestia and Luna’s old rooms are down that hall. Hammer Strike will probably want Luna’s, so you take celestia’s, Pensword. I’ve got the tower.”
In Ponyville, the six element holders sat in Twilight’s library, chatting when Applejack paused and looked over at Pinkie with a cocked eyebrow. “Uh, Sugarcube, did you drink too much Hot Chocolate again?”
Pinkie Pie was vibrating, quite literally, across the floor. “Sssoooo mmmaaannnyyy mmmiiiissseeeddd ppppaaaarrrrrtttiiiieeess.”
All save Twilight promptly vanished as she stared at Pinkie Pie. Her left eye twitched. “What? How? Who?” She paused before shaking her head. “Nevermind who. Why?” She sighed. “Can it at least wait till we finish loading up the first supply shipment? I rather like the idea of being ahead of schedule for once.”
“Something big happened,” Pinkie said “Something big happened to Pensword and Grif and Hammer Strike and Lunar Fang and…” pinkies eye’s widened. “NEW PONIES!” And just like that,Pinkie Pie was gone, leaving only Pinkie shaped pink dust cloud in her wake.
“After her!” Twilight yelled, more out of habit than anything else since she was the only one in the room. “Spike, send a letter that something is happening and Pinkie knows about it.” She paused and groaned. “Tell them I’ll back it up with concrete evidence later.” Her horn glowed and the rest of her friends suddenly poofed back into the room in purple clouds of magic. “Come on, guys. We need to find out what’s going on. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but … Follow that Pinkie Pie!” With the danger of a Pinkie explosion averted, the other four nodded, running after Twilight as they followed the trail of Party Favors Pinkie had left behind.
Hammer Strike was heading up the group, which consisted of pretty much everyone from those that started the adventure to Tall Oak, Little Willow, The Gryphon Slayers and Shiral. All of which were steadily marching towards the gate and out to the troops under their command. To the onlookers, It looked almost like a small herd of figures walking out from the very mists of time. The moment they reached the gate however, Hammer Strike paused and looked to the bits of metal and slag laying about near the gate, which had a decent sized hole in it. After a moment, a look of recognition came to Hammer Strike. “Oh ... Right…”
Pensword turned and smiled as he looked on his squad. “Okay, I am, if I vanish, you tell him by letter, understand?” he replied with a worried look as his eyes. He knew the signs of Hammer Strikes rage when he saw them. The Gryphons slayers were quiet, still confused over just where they were, having only recently awoken in these ruins.
Finally, Fox Feather spoke. “Uh, are we in Unity? And more importantly, is this in the future?” She looked to the ground, confusion clear on her muzzle. “What happened?”
“Do you want the rather unpleasant truth, or a pleasant lie?” grif asked.
The Gryphons Slayer stared at him blankly, their faces implacable. They were not in the mood for jests. Compass Rose spoke. “We fought a war against Gryphons. I think we can handle whatever it is you have to say.”
“A thousand years happened.” Hammer Strike said aloud, still walking.
“You all vanished from history after an ill fated excursion to the north to hunt down reported leftover gryphon bands from the war. You all froze to death or where torn apart by changelings,” grif said. “You all passed out, so we figured, why not save a few dozen lives?”
There were a few unsteady looks. “Well, I guess since no bodies were found, this counts as ... I don’t know, interesting?” Animal Control paused. “Uh, Sir, we would not be mobbed by historians … would we?”
Pensword’s expression changed. “I would stand in their way and let them bother me first, so you can have time to gather your wits.” He looked at the ruined gate. “Slayers, out there is a group of almost washout Guards. I am going to have you train them to be soldiers. We are going to build our own school. One which I hope Commandante Supreme Sunrise would approve of.”
“Pensword!” an all too familiar voice spoke behind him, squealing with delight. “You brought ... new … ponies!” Pinkie Pie in all her pink glory popped up, sending a shower of confetti and party favors into the air.
“GAH!” Pensword cried out in surprise as he spun and held a wing out, thankfully devoid of blade, but still showing that his intent was to defend himself and attack the source. He slowly dropped his guard as he realized who it was and just what he was doing. “Pinkie, from now on, do not sneak up on me. I would rather not say why. And yes, these are my personal body guards and friends. They need to settle in, and before you say anything, please, please, for the love of Faust, spread out the parties.” He said, shaking his head. He could only guess how many ideas she had up her sleeve with her Pinkie sense. “Think like this. Instead of one giant party, imagine getting to hold and celebrate a party a day, or something…” He stopped and looked to Lunar Fang. Pinkie was gone. “How long was I talking to thin air?” He asked, ignoring the confused looks from the Gryphon Slayers.
The pink blur was making her way all over the group, popping up in all manner of spaces as she systematically got into the face of practically every pony present. “Hi! I’m pinkie pie! You must be new here cause i know everypony and i mean EVERYPONY in ponyville. Oh wow. You’re big, strong ponies. Are you from the guard? How did you get here? I didn’t see any new ponies coming through town. Did you take the train? But there is no train into the everfree forest. Oh, oh, oh!” and before anyone could answer she was back over to lunar fang, poking her belly. “You're having a new foal! Oh, when did this happen? You weren’t pregnant three days ago when I saw you last. How far along are you? Is it a colt or a filly? Is pensword the father?” Once again the pink pony was gone in a puff of smoke before anypony could answer.
“Grif, you look different. Are you older? But that's crazy, It’s been three days. But you feel different, like I missed a lot of parties for you. What's that scar on your back? Did you fall or something? Oh, I got so many parties to throw now! I’m so excited. Are you excited? Look!” And suddenly she was on Hammer Strike’s back. “I’ve never seen Hammer Strike so excited!” She said, pointing to his blank expression.
Pensword held up a wing. “Stand down. This is… It would be akin to catching the fog on a hot summer day.” he muttered. “She is not…” Pensword paused. As Honey Dew stared at Pinkie Pie. “What is it?” Pensword asked her.
“You never served with Supreme Sunrise on the front. I did for a month. She ... acted like this, only with keeping the troops in line, and giving orders to keep the lines in tact. The White Ghost, the Gryphons called her.” She replied, looking shaken. “She, I am ... she stayed long enough to have a family?” She finally asked aloud.
“If you’d believe it, she technically has two bloodlines alive today,” grif noted. “There is a mare in the wonderbolts. That’s an elite pegasus flight team, by the way, who is also from her line. A mare named Surprise”
“There is another one?” Twenty voices called out in shock.
“She can’t teleport. At least from what I’ve heard.” Grif shrugged. “So, pinkie, where is the rest of the squad?” he asked.
“Oh, they should be here right about…” and with a pop the rest of the mane 6 materialized in the courtyard “then” she nodded.
“Uh…” Pensword started. “Can, we discuss this at the Library? Because this might take a while.” He looked to Grif. “Take Lunar Fang and find Me-Me and Mutatio.”
Lunar Fang paused and shook her head. “Maybe one surprise at a time?” She asked her mate. “All around I would think. Maybe later today or tomorrow?”
An hour later the group sat at the large wooden table in the Ponyville library. Grif had sylvio laying on the ground beside his chair. He found the scattered looks the group were giving the timber wolf pup gave him no end of entertainment.
Pensword sighed and looked to Twilight. “As this is your home and place of work, I shall leave the order and questions in your control.” He was sitting near Lunar Fang, and compared to three days ago, was far more intimate than before with the way their wings touched or they would sneak looks at each other. Rainbow Dash made gagging motions before finally snapping to attention, her look serious.
“Okay,” Rainbow Dash started. “What gives? Three days ago, Pensword here was all decorum and regulations and now? He acts like he has his first Mare. What gives?”
“Rainbow Dash!” Twilight Sparkle shouted in shock and horror. “Be kind. I think half of these ponies could do some things that we’d rather not know about.”
“Phfshaw.” Rainbow Dash replied. “I could out fly them all. I could handle it.”
“For once, Rainbow, shut up.” grif said “There is a large difference between stunt flying and flying in a combat situation. When you can stick a landing with three arrows through your left wing, then you can brag. But please, the big ponies are talking” ...harsh, taze noted mentally.
Rainbow Dash broke off from her angry retort suddenly. “Wait, did you say Combat?” She looked to the others. “Just who are you new guys?” she asked,her voice a whispered mix of terror and excitement.
“We are the Gryphon Slayers.” Pensword responded as he moved to his hooves. “I am Commander Pensword Hurricane, appointed by joint order of Celestia and Luna upon the day I married Lunar Fang and took command of all Forces in Equestria. They were my bodyguards during many battles.” His expression showed pride in the ponies that he lead.
“Wait. So you went back to the third gryphon war?” Rarity asked, her tone filled with shock and concern. “Oh, darlings, that must have been simply awful.” She brushed a hoof lightly down Hammer Strike’s back. “Oh, you poor dear,” she said, examining hammer strike’s torn ear.
“How did I not notice that?” Pinkie shouted into said ear as she stood on his back, looking down at the damage.
“Technically, that is not the only problem.” Hammer Strike said, looking toward Pinkie with a raised brow.
“I think we need to hear this here tale from the beginning,” Applejack noted, getting several nods of agreement.
“Considering I can not even remember the beginning, that might be a bit difficult,” Hammer Strike said. “You will have to figure out what you can from Grif and Pensword.”
“Before we get started: Pinkie, you may want to get something for everybody to snack on. This is not going to be a short story.”
“Sure thing.” Pinkie saluted and she was gone.
Grif turned to twilight. “Time turner may need to be here, too. Just for the start to help explain a few things.”
When sufficient snackage and the good doctor had been procured, the three began their stories, stopping to explain what a weeping pegasi was and for lunar fang to fill in where Hammer Strike forgot at the beginning and what she could remember of her various wakings. Each of the gryphon slayers offered up their story in turn. Even shrial explained her past. True to Grif’s words, the tale went long into the night and even a little after dawn. They had each left out certain smaller secrets, such as the extermination of the noble house of flame.
“And thats when pinkie pie showed up,” Grif said, shrugging.
“And I almost attacked her on instinct,” Pensword added hesitantly. “Sorry about that, Pinkie. Now we are here, we have demolished a good amount of food, and I could use a good cup of tea … and a sugar cane,” he muttered.
“Sleep would also be a reasonable thought,” grif noted. “Perhaps we can continue this in a few hours?”
Twilight Sparkle nodded her head even as Pinkie Pie suddenly dropped to the floor, fast asleep. Twilight looked around as most of the guests dropped with Pinkie, following her example. She sighed. “I’ll go place a closed sign on the Library door. And as for you two ...” She looked at Lunar Fang and Pensword. “Please, just snuggles and nothing more, okay?”
“Of course,” Pensword muttered. “I would like to know how far along my mate is later if that is okay to ask.”
“Pre-natal spells are better left to wait till everyone’s had a good rest,” fluttershy spoke for the first time since they’d all gathered. “Oh. That is, if thats okay with you,” she said before giving a yawn that very nearly killed quite a few ponies present out of sheer cuteness.
“Agreed.” Lunar Fang replied. “Sleep now, find out health later. Oh, and a dental trip for all involved too. Dental hygiene was not the best back then.” She slowly dozed off in the forelegs and hooves of her husband.
“Yeah, yeah,” Grif yawned. “An hour of colgate tearing into each of us for our horrible teeth. Really looking forward to that one. Then again, I don’t have to worry too much about that, now do I?” Grif said as he headed for a door, his eyes twinkling mischievously. “I’ll catch a nearby cloud to sleep on. See you all later.” He walked out the door and leapt for the skies, Shrial trailing closely behind him. The rest of the ponies dispersed to sleep, or in the case of Fluttershy and Applejack, to see to the important things, then rest.
Hammer Strike found himself looking around at those asleep, not feeling too tired himself based off a ruined sleep schedule, which he never had. Looking to Twilight, he shrugged lightly. “Do you have parchment, quill, and inkwell that I could use?”
Half asleep already, Twilight levitated the previously requested items over to Hammer Strike. “There are more in the cabinet if you need them,” she said, moving to her room and her nice, cosy bed. “Wake me if you need help, okay?” Hammer Strike grunted, already scribbling furiously as he was absorbed in his work. If one were to look carefully enough, you could just make out the base figure of a pony being formed, a mane flowing in a poof with a curl toward the end.
It was near evening by the time everyone reconvened in the library. Having slept, eaten, done their chores in applejack and fluttershy’s case, and accomplished their other daily tasks, everyone stood gathered around the table again. The mane six had taken the time to fully process the information given, resulting in more than a few different reactions along with several difficult questions. By the time the chaos had settled down, it was already getting dark again.
“Ok, lets make this simple,” Grif said. “Each element gets a single question and we keep going until everybody is out of questions. Fair?” He looked around as the mane six nodded. “Good. We start with honesty.”
“Any particular reason?” Rainbow Dash asked. “And who put you in charge anyway?”
“Because applejack is going to know if we’re lying or not and there will be a few cases where, for our own sakes, we may need to lie. So if she goes first, then maybe she won’t feel so eager to call us out.” He looked to applejack. The mare nodded her agreement, although she was still somewhat confused. “And as for why I’m making the call, technically hammer strike is still the highest ranking person in this room and as he isn’t up to presiding over this inquiry. As his proxy, it’s my job to fill in for him. Unless you’d rather I don’t, Hammer?” Grif asked.
Hammer Strike simply shrugged in response.
“Good enough for me. Go ahead, Applejack.” Grif nodded, giving permission.
AJ took off her hat as she turned to pensword and the gryphon slayers. “shoot i feel mighty silly wasting mah first question on this but, what was apple core like?”
“A strong headed Stallion that got into more fights protecting Blue Vase, and Blue Vase watching his back. As for when those two were together, I saw them tear through six Gryphons while protecting an injured mare in the mountains. I have to admit that by the end I just put AV for them, where one went the other went.” he chuckled a little. “Going off topic, sorry. Still, I can say that after meeting him, I see where the Apple Stubbornness came from. The competitiveness of a Pegasus like Blue Vase, and those two would not budge. I had to order them to speak to each other after they didn’t wish to speak until the other apologies over something.” He blinked back tears. “A good stallion that I wish I could have a duplicate of with how willingly he put his life in front of others.” He paused. “Don’t you dare do that, you are too important.” He sighed. “I hope that answers a question, if I have not, please tell me and I shall do better.”
“no thats plenty” she nodded. “goldie delicious always said we came from a proud line, but we had so little about him we never knew what he was like” she put her hat back on. “thank you kindly pensword” she said.
“Your are very welcomed, Wait a year and I shall have a full bio ready for you to read to add to your family history.” Pensword replied with a chuckle.
“Uh,” Spike spoke up. “Well,” he looked rather nervous. “None of you will kill me will you?” He asked with worry.
“Spike!” Twilight yelped. “What brought that about?” She turned and looked at the others.
“It is just… I smell Dragon’s blood and it makes me uneasy. It is, difficult to spill a dragon’s blood unless another dragon.” He looked at Twilight. “I learned some things in the Dragon Migration.” He looked to the others. “Please don’t hurt me.”
Pensword looked to Grif before looking back at Spike. “I think that will not count as your question Spike, as it is more of a fear you wish to be alleviated. I assure you that I shall not harm you in any form, unless you become a threat to the town.” He grimaced as Spike looked worried. “Don’t worry I doubt anypony will trigger anything anytime soon.”
“so then whats the story with those guys?” rainbow pointed to the gryphon slayers. “what are you going to do with them?”
Pensword looked right at Rainbow Dash. “They are to become citizens of our camps, and teach those in the camps to be warriors, soldiers and maybe even teach you a trick or two if you are willing to go through some of the training.” He looked at the Slayers. “No way I would just abandon them in the past. I, I need something tethering me to sanity.”
“Uh, if you don’t mind, I would like to ask a question.” Fluttershy spoke quietly from her seat. “Why do Thestrals hunt animals?” She was looking at Lunar Fang. “I mean, if you don’t mind to answer.”
“because our culture is primarily nocturnal and there isn’t a lot of plant life that can be farmed well in the dark” lunar fang pointed out. “we learned to hunt to replace the needed nutrients in our diet and it came to a point where we can’t really change our diet to be totally meatless”
“Oh,” Fluttershy replied. “Well, thank you.” She had a few more questions but she was not going to ask any more. “Can we talk later?”
“of course” lunar fang nodded.
“oh oh oh me! what was your wedding cake like?” pinkie asked.
“I shall answer and let my wife answer. Very tasty.” Pensword laughed at the question.
“uh… large?” lunar fang raised an eyebrow. “honestly so much happened afterwards i was hardly concentrating on the cake” The two giggled a little at the comment.
“you forgot your cake?” pinkie seemed shocked then she put a hoof to her mouth. “never mind I already asked my question” she said.
“what was it like to be on the front lines of one of the bloodiest wars in equestrian history?” twilight asked.
“Bloody, brutal.” His expression hardened and softened for a moment. “I cleaned up, and saw a lot. The front lines were not the best conditions, and I was only on them for a few battles, after the wedding, I lead the troops from Fortress Triumph.” He looked to the others. “I ordered what I did to show that Equestria would not stand by and be destroyed.” he looked to Twilight. “When the others finish, I have a question for you, what does history say of the war now?”
“bloody really doesn’t do it enough credit” grif said “pretty sure we ended a couple fights covered in more than just their blood, the guts made themselves known as well”
“did you really have to say that?” rainbow dash asked as the others looked kinda green.
“hey she asked the question” grif shrugged.
“It is interesting when you have to fight assassins on the front line.” Hammer Strike shrugged.
“Assassins? Oh my!” Rarity said in shock.
“Yeah,” Pensword muttered. “Assassin's, we made it through, no worries.”
“well about your question pensword” twilight said “in all honesty time being what it is until the sumemr sun celebration last year only princess celestia could ever offer any true insights during the war and she always considered the subject uncomfortable, so in all honesty the information we have is random legends and stories and a few historical markers as well as the artifacts in the war museum”
“Well, I will answer more questions later.” Here all eyes turned to spike for his question.
“what happened to him? the dragon i mean, is he...you know? dead?” spike asked.
“No, he is very much alive. In fact that is something I should be doing, reconnecting and seeing how he is doing. Always good to have a Dragon on your side. Just in case things go pear shape. I wonder if he has kept to the agreement, and how his wealth has grown.”
spike nodded looking visibly relieved.
“What was the nobility like back then?” Rarity questioned.
“Cowards, except for a few. The most notable of those who fought rather than hide was House Hurricane.” Hammer Strike responded.
“some more so than others...” grif growled
“Shut it.” Hammer Strike said, his expression shifting.
grif just sat back without a response, the mane 6 shared a confused glance but dropped it for the time being.
it went on like this for a few more hours each of the mane 6 asking questions from what they had endured, too visible scars and how they acquired them. the group answered their questions in the manner they felt comfortable in but refused to offer anymore information.
it was getting late when grif noted they should be heading back as unity still needed to be fully established and they couldn’t afford another delay when rarity’s eye’s widened like she remembered something.
“please hold on a minute darling” she told pensword before taking off, she returned ten minutes later with a magazine in her magic and offered it too him. “you might want to talk with the magazine's editor when you have a chance”
Pensword raised and eyebrow and looked at the magazine, not even opening it, just looking at the cover of the magazine, before looking back up at Rarity. “is this a joke?” He finally stated in a flat tone of voice.
Lunar Fang saw the magazine and ground covering her muzzle with a wing. “Oh not that rubbish.”
the cover held a picture pensword was quite certain he hadn’t posed for and the script commander pensword back from the dead, equestrias number 1 most eligible bachelor!
“I am married. I married Lunar Fang.” He sighed and looked to the Gryphon Slayers. “It mentions Ponyville, so we are going to have nobles visiting.” he sighed and looked a little grummpy. “Rarity. You have contact with Fancy Pants… get him to meet with me, I will want a retraction of this article.” He moved a hoof over his uniform. “How could they do that? I do not even look like that stallion on the cover.”
grif chuckled as he and shrial walked past, sylvio sleeping soundly on the gryphons back. “honestly it kinda does” grif shrugged before taking too the air.
“Wha?” Pensword asked looking at Rarity and his wife. “I what?” he repeated. “How does it kind of does?”
“missing scares aside the fur and mane are a pretty close match” rarity told him “it’s obviously a glamour charm, don’t worry dear i’m sure princess luna well take care of this for you, she did marry you two after all”
“Very well, but I am still writing to her as Commander of whatever forces we have left.” He replied with a snort. “Something like this would have been a scandal back in the Third Gryphon War… one does not talk about the Generals like this, after the war, maybe but not du.” He paused and sighed. “The war is over, a thousand years…” He looked to Lunar Fang. “I am also going to talk to Luna about handling the world changing in a blink of an eye. Even though I feel familiar with it.”
“get some rest darling, i’m sure things will be better tomorrow” rarity offered before turning to leave for carousel boutique.
“Perhaps I could accompany you on your way home?” Hammer Strike asked.
“oh” rarity turned and smiled at him “of course darling” she said “well we walk perhaps we can talk about fixing your coat properly, what did the tailor use to repair those tears, twine?”
Pensword sighed and looked at the group. “Fall back to the castle, we look like a bunch of cadets for review, come on, let’s get back and set up some tents to get some sleep.” He turned around and they began to move back. Little Willow and Tall Oak following as well.
Grif stretched his wings fully as he awoke with a yawn. He looked around the tower room as his brain slowly worked on getting re-activated. Remembering where he was, the gryphon scanned the large, currently barren room for shrial.
Finally, his sluggish brain picked up on the wam pressure and the soft sensation of feathers against his back. There, laying against his side, the still form of Shrial waited to wake from slumber. A light smile played across her face as she dreamed. The rays from the rising sun played across her plumage, making it appear almost as though she radiated light and beauty. The locket lay clutched in her talons, held close to her side.
Grif looked to the sky, his cheeks burning under his dark coloring. “I’m not sure exactly who is up there for this world, but please stop doing this to me.” Shrial was still a mystery to him. She was totally oblivious to any advances he attempted to make. Or at least thats how she acted. Yet sometimes, she seemed to be making advances of her own while at other times she didn’t seem to know what she was doing. Leaning his head down, he sounded a quiet robin-like cheeping in her ear.
Shrial sighed, exhaled dreamily, then stirred, the twin pools that were her eyes slowly opened, adjusting immediately to the light. She yawned and turned her head to face Grif. “Good morning, Grif.” She said, smiling. “I just had the most wonderful dream.”
“Well I wouldn’t say I’m that fantastic,” he teased. “Sorry to wake you up, but there is something I should do before I go on my morning exercises.”
Shrial gave him a playful punch. “You big ham,” She said as her face began to flush beneath the plumage. She really had been dreaming about him. But she wasn’t about to tell him that. Not just yet anyways. She still had a few more tests before she was willing to try taking that kind of step. The embarrassment was cut suddenly as her curiosity stirred, the dream forgotten for now. “And what is it that needs doing? And why do you need me for it?”
“You remember when i told you everything?” Grif asked as he got up, retrieving a gold bracer which he strapped to his left wrist. “You said you wouldn’t believe about the other me until you saw him, right?”
“Yes, that’s right.” Hanging around Grif as much as she did, Shrial had finally started to pick up the habit of using contractions.
“Well then, allow me to introduce you,” grif said as he rotated the gem. “Henshin a go go, baby!” The phrase seemed double layered as Grif was swallowed in a bright white light. The light enveloped figure changed position, becoming larger and standing upright on two legs. Shrial watched in awe as the beak retreated, the tail retracted, and the figure became slimmer, the paws and talons replaced with some other shape she could not make out. Soon after, the light dissipated, revealing Taze.
The human looked around, confused. “Weird. I feel taller then I remember being.” He looked down at shrial. “Well, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you face to face ... technically,” taze said, looking down at shrial. “I’d shake hands, but you’d probably turn mine into a hamburger”
Shrial gawked at the strange looking creature before her. His body looked so fragile, but the wiry muscles bespoke a trained discipline and a quiet inner strength. His dirty blond hair waved as he shook his head. Then he ran a hand through it, trying to adjust to the feeling of having hair again rather than plumage to preen. It looked so different, so alien. This could not possibly be her Grif. And yet … those eyes. She stared. Then, with the lightning speed of a trained warrior, she pounced and grabbed the human, careful not to let her talons harm him as she took a closer look. Feline slit stared into feline slit as she scrutinized every facet. She could see the whirlpool from during the war, but now it was more like a gentle eddy in a stream. The division was there, but harmonic, no longer clashing. And deeper still she could just make out the spark of emotion she had seen in those hard blue eyes so many, many times before. “It really is you … isn’t it?” She asked, cocking her head.
“We’re both still here,” he told her reassuringly. “It’s just we’ve had a few damaging experiences and it’s taking a while to piece things back together. Grif knows and feels and remembers everything thats happening now. I’m just more in control.” Taze smiled “This is going to sound weird, but could I possibly pet you? I’ve always wondered what it would feel like to pet a gryphon.”
“One question before I answer that. Are you two the same or two different people in one body?”
“Thats a complicated question with a complicated answer.” Taze sighed. “Grif told you about being turned into a child again before Graf found him, right?”
“Yes.”
“He grew up in a world of violence and necessity. His environment was hostile. And so as we grew up, part of me changed,” Taze said, trying his best to explain. “I grew up in a close knit family and community. I had food available when I needed it and I was taught that violence is never the first solution to a problem. we didn’t have warriors in every village. There were only soldiers for the country’s needs and then a police force for smaller things. Death was less a commonplace thing in that environment. In a way, grif is the same person as me. He just grew up in a more hostile world. But at the same time, right now, he is a separate part of me that we are trying hard to reconcile. Grif is the warrior. I’m more of the thinker if i have a choice. But at some point in the future we will eventually become one person again fully.” His tone took on one of anxiety as he spoke next. “Please, believe me when I say that there isn’t a feeling Grif has that I do not have. I just have different ways of saying it.”
Shrial stood there a moment, taking in what Taze had to say. “So to put it simply, you represent the cunning that I saw in Grif during the war and he represents the fighter and the warrior?” She looked as though she wanted to say more, but she cut herself off there.
“I am also the compassion sometimes. The mercy. Did you get a look at Grif’s face when he asked to spare you?” He asked. “That straining? I fought to save you because I saw some good in you that he refused to believe was there.”
“Then I have you to thank for my life. And for who I have become.” She bowed her head. “I thank you.”
“Don’t.” He hooked her beak with a finger and brought her head up. “You thank me every time you look grif in the eye and talk to him like he isn’t better than you are.” Taze smiled. “We both need that. Arrogance comes too easily to us and we need that center to keep us grounded. A lot is going to happen soon. Things will change drastically. We need you around, shrial. More than you could ever begin to guess.”
“So then … Taze. You think that I can help you and Grif to become whole?”
“It’s about finding the right emotional point to come together on,” Taze said. “You saw what happened with anger.”
Shrial put a talon to her beak a moment, deep in thought. “You said that you saw and felt everything Grif has done, correct? Do you remember what happened that day at the fortress the first day after you were able to fly again?”
“You remember that, huh?” taze smiled.
“Does this answer your question?” She grabbed his shirt, and pulled him in, returning the kiss she had first received such a short and yet so very long time ago.
Unseen by either of them the warring colors within his eye’s seemed to alter, the light blue becoming darker, the dark blue becoming lighter. The change was not so drastic as to cause the two to find an agreement between their war of light and dark, yet it seemed that much closer to the ultimate goal. Taze put his mind off the akwardness of the feeling of her beak on his mouth as he enjoyed the emotions behind the action before gently pulling away.
“Well ... that definitely helps.” He smiled roguishly at her. “So does this mean what the two of us severely hope it means?” Taze asked.
“Maybe.” Shrial said, winking mischievously as she donned the locket. “But you’ll have to catch me first.” Then she took off, rocketing into the sky.
Taze sighed, a little disappointed. He hadn’t gotten to explain the locket to her. And yet … he now had an excuse for another conversation. Retrieving his watch, he checked it, quickly confirming he still had 20 minutes before the troops would be waiting for him. He flipped the gem back into place and a moment later, Grif took to the air after the gryphoness.
Taze smiled as he walked into the yard. He casually stretched his fingers one by one. Four fingers and a thumb. All right where he remembered them. He smiled as rook and the other guards appeared at the usual spot to run. At least, until he noticed their stares.
“Uh, guys ... what's up with the looks?” Taze asked, lifting an eyebrow.
“Have you looked at yourself yet, sir?” Black Rook asked.
“Haven't had time to find a reflective surface my size yet. Why? Whats up?”
“Well, for starters, you're half a hoof taller than last time we saw you. Your features are also off. Your nose is kinda sharp looking, your skin is much more tan, and your eyes seem kinda … well, slitted,” rook listed off one at a time. “Also, I know you’ve been working out, but your muscle mass has expanded significantly since last we saw you.”
Taze raised an eyebrow before looking closely at his hand. Rook was right. His skin was darker than before. He trailed down his arm, a little shocked to see how the muscle had developed. “I guess I’m going to have some explaining to do…” he said, looking at rook. “But lets do it as we run. I really need to get back to normal.
The jog was unnervingly easy for taze and yet it seemed clumsy. He felt like the possibility of falling on his face was always there, just waiting for him. Trying his best to keep his mind off how the two-legged movement was messing with him, he began to explain to rook and his other troops what had happened to him in as little detail as possible.
“Wait. So that hour you were gone, you lived a whole other life and fought in a brutal, bloody war?” Rook raised an eyebrow. “Do I even want to know how you're not a total mess right now?”
“Gryphons can’t suffer PTSD,” Taze said as he started the same story.
“Yeah… right.” Black Rook stopped the troops to look him in the eye. “Nice try, sir, but you and I both know thats not true.”
Taze sighed. “Look. A lot of bad things happened back then, but right now Pensword, Hammer Strike, and Shawn need at least someone who is still seeing the facts. I’ve found other ways to deal with the problems that will keep me from having to worry. I have… help.” He shrugged. “And the details are on a need to know basis, lieutenant. Double time. Come on!” he ordered, picking up the pace. Taze focused on his jog. Freaking out could wait till others had their turn.
Hammer Strike found himself looking over his blueprints in a room he knew was an old study. He had used it specifically for writing and drawing ideas that he wanted to keep in check. He had been holed up in the room for hours now, working and drawing like a mad man possessed. Soon enough he found his concentration broken by a knocking at the door.
“Come in,” He called out.
“Lord Hammer Strike?” Rarity asked as she entered the room, his coat draped over her back. “I finished the repairs we discussed.”
“You did not have to travel all the way out here for that. I would have come back to town.” He said, surprised. “But, thank you.”
“I’d like to think I could make a special delivery for you.” She smiled at him. “What with our past exchanges.”
Hammer Strikes grin shifted to a small frown. “There is a… problem with that...”
“Oh?” Rarity asked “And what might that be, darling?” she asked, casually looking over some of the pieces he had brought with him from the past. “My, thats quite the weapon.” she noted to a rapier with a rather intricate floral patterned handle.
“I made it … Years ago. As a reminder.” He sighed. “I still can not remember why…” He shook his head. “I went back, I know that, I went back to help Pensword and Grif, but... “ He blinked a couple of times as he tried to remember. “With the years, my memory has faded.”
Rarity looked at him. Her eye’s widened as the realization dawned. “How … how much of your memory have you lost?” she asked.
Hammer Strike was still thinking. “Given that I was there for… Thirty... something years in a golem, too much. I did not recognise any of your… our friends.”
“And...us?” rarity asked
“By the end of the war I could only remember faint voices and your silhouette...” He replied sadly, leaning on the hoof he put to his head.
“And now?” she asked.
“That is now.” He replied. “For me, the war ended only a month ago.”
The unicorn did her best to hold back tears. “They can be recovered, right?” she asked. “Perhaps Twilight and Celestia will know a way.”
“It is possible,” He replied, looking to the rapier again. His eyes ran over it a few times before he looked to Rarity again, a terrible longing burning in his eyes as he struggled for even a scrap of his former memories. Something came to the surface, but it was foggy, unclear. “I think I made that for you, actually…” He said in a low voice as he tried to think, to grasp that one bubble, but it burst even as he grabbed for it. And then it was gone.
“For me?” Rarity asked, lifting the weapon in her magic. “It’s beautiful.” She examined it more closely. “Here. There seems to be an ‘R’ and my cutie mark on the underside of the… hoof guard, was it?”
“Yes. I did make it for you, then.” He gave a small smile. “Every time I slept I could still faintly hear your voice, now that I think about it.” It soon grew to a full smile. “You certainly left a mark on my mind. Let us hope we can fix my memories so I can remember the good times.”
“I would like that.” Rarity smiled as she picked up the scabbard lying nearby and gently placed the sword inside it. “I hope we will be able to have more of them in the future,” she noted as she slipped the strap over her head.
“Given the lasting effects of the previous ones…” His upper lip twitched, occasionally showing teeth as the smile jumped between close lipped and open mouthed. “I am sure we will have them. I just hope you do not mind how changed I may be. Over thirty years in a different era, and in a golem’s body to boot; it might have changed me slightly.” He chuckled.
“No one changes completely, darling.” Rarity smiled in her charming way, a little flirtatious lilt lay in her voice. “You're still you where it counts. Remember that.” The clock in the town square went off, echoing across the reaches of the forests and through the open window into the study. “Oh dear. Is that the time? I must return to my store.”
“Shall I accompany you on your way back through the forest?” Hammer Strike asked as he stood up.
“I’d like that.” Rarity said, smiling as she waited at the door.
“What?” Pensword stated matter of factly. “Mutatio, report to me again what happened. It has been only days since we left you alone. What happened?” He looked at the subject of his disbelief. “How… often will this happen?”
“We have expanded as much as we can running off of the love you freely give us,” Mutatio reported, a nymph sitting comically on his head.
“But ... a week. Barely a week and you have… offspring!” Pensword shot back in shock. “How, often will this be occurring? How big is this first brood?” He asked as an image of zerglings flashed into his mind, rampaging about and sucking love out of ponies. A mix of the old world of Starcraft with this new world of Equestria.
“50 nymphs,” Mutatio said. “Including this one.”
“Fifty…” He paused. “How long till they are akin to the changelings that attacked Canterlot? What do you plan on doing with the Fifty? … And do I need to worry about when the next brood is laid or hatches?” Pensword put a hoof to his head and shook it as he tried to process what was going on.
“Grif already outlined a basic idea. We aren't allowing massive expansion as of yet. These fifty are being bred to be gatherers.”
“Gatherers? Of love? From where? How?” Pensword replied. “Actually, do not tell me. Not yet. I would rather have at least one of us be able to say we knew nothing about these plans.”
“Very well,” mutatio said. “Me-Me has taken many things into consideration. Don’t worry. There will be no danger from us.”
“Good. Because I would stand and raise the gates of Tartarus before I let any Ponies destroy your hive.” He snorted. “I, I remember, yet it feels so strange.” He looked to the wall. “Back in the past, you were feral beasts that were in small hives of a hundred or so…” He shook his head. “I’ll ask what changed at a later date.” He moved to a paper as he continued to write copious notes for this meeting. “Anything else you wish to report?”
“Me-Me was worried about you three when she felt Hammer Strike’s fear and rage. We are all glad nothing happened to you”
“Yeah, about that… Have Me-Me meet us later tonight. There is something we need to tell the Everfree Hive Queen and Drone.” He moved to gather up his papers. “I think that there will be a most interesting conversation.”
“Me-Me says that we will be there.” Mutatio nodded. Rather unexpectedly, he moved forward and wrapped his forelegs around pensword. “Once again, we are happy you are safe.”
“Thank you,” Pensword replied as he returned Mutatio’s hug. “Also… I will say that we both share something in common,” he said with a mischievous wink in his eye. “We both are fathers.”
Mutatio paused as he processed this information, not sure quite how to respond. At last, he spoke. “Congratulations. We were wondering when you two would get together.” Then he smiled as he released the embrace and backed away. “Until tonight, then.”
“Until Tonight.” Pensword replied as Mutatio left his office. He morphed into a Pegasus with a picnic basket to hold the baby Changeling and keep it hidden from the other troops as he made his return trip to the hive. A sigh escaped Pensword’s lips as a new problem occurred to him. He spoke his concern aloud. “Now… how to tell the troops?” His Office lay in a secluded section of the ruins in Unity, so it was a simple thing to keep the meeting secret. But that secret would have to be revealed at some point, and soon, before a misunderstanding could break out. He shook his head in frustration as his mind reeled over what to do. Finally, out of desperation more than anything else, he switched to a different train of thought, wondering when Hammer Strike would officially name the town.
He snapped to attention as his ears picked up some commotion from outside. So he got up and walked to the courtyard of the old barracks where he looked in on confusion. The Gryphon Slayers were unfurling and uncasing the captured colors from the war. Then there was his Command flag, a large blue flag with a field of stars arranged in five columns: three stars dotted down the first column, two stars in the next sitting by the spaces between the three stars and so on and so forth, repeating the sequence of three and two until it reached the fifth column. He had taken the inspiration from Washington’s flag it was true, but it felt like a good representation of who he was and what he stood for.
“Sir?” one of the guards asked. “Are those what i think they are?”
“What do you think they are?” Pensword replied. He looked a little comical compared to the Gryphon Slayers. The armor was sparse and the eyes still had that rebelious youthful look to them, albeit balanced out by a heavy amount of respect. “I would like to hear your ideas before I answer.”
“They … well they look like the ancient captured enemy standards from the third Gryphon war I saw at the museum once. But … they look brand new. It can’t be. Can it?” the guard asked.
“They are indeed the standards from the Gryphon Units we fought, including the first colors we captured.” Pensword pointed to one that was set next to his Commander’s flag. “The one hundred First battalion of the Gryphon Emperor's beak.” He pointed to another one. “The Iron Beak Regiment.” Then the next one: a pure black flag. “That was the standard of the military chapter of Black Tips.” Pensword reported with pride. “I can name each flag and where we captured them.” He smiled. “Work hard and your men might find themselves fighting under one of those banners one day. As Commander, I feel that I can use those emblems and standards for my own troops. Which you are a part of for the moment.”
The guards nodded, a bit taken aback by their commander’s speech. “What? Don’t tell me you lot are the fair weather soldier?” A confused look covered his face. “What is with your surprise?”
“Sir ... it’s just that some of these standards would be sought after by museums all over Equis” another trainee noted.
“Really? You think I would let them fly? Without making preparations to have these standards be placed in a war museum? They will head there. AFTER,” his voice rang emphatically “We have the colors that will take their place.”
“Sir!” the guard saluted, then looked quizically at the Gryphon Slayers. “Who are the new ponies?”
Pensword smiled proudly. “Present your colors, Men!” Pensword’s voice echoed over the courtyard, drawing Lunar Fang and Taze to watch as the fourteen ponies unfurled a flag and turned around standing at attention. The main background stood out a dark brown with a large red circle with the middle. Inside the circle a Gryphon Feather, a Gryphon Talon, and a Gryphon Beak sat one on top of the other, all in white.
A few gasps and some murmurs rippled the guard as they recognised the standard. “That’s…. That’s the gryphon slayer’s standard.”
“Gryphon Slayers: sound off!” Pensword bellowed with a grin. He turned around. “Men, you heard rumors that I saw the fall of the Crystal Empire. As of this day, I admit that I too, fought in the Third Gryphon War. These Gryphon Slayers are my bodyguard unit as well as the oldest friends I have from that time.” He glared at the group of trainees. “That also means they have seniority over the lot of you and shall be the new Cadre instructors. We shall train thee till thou shalt command fear just by the speaking of any unit you are a member of. Thou art the next generation of Gryphon Slayer Doctrine.”
The mixed expressions ranged from anticipation to fear at the new announcement. Pensword nodded his head as he noted the various reactions. “Good. Now, Cadet Silver Spear, step forward.” The young noble stepped forward as commanded, disciplined, but a little intimidated by such legends. “Silver Spear, due to the magnitude of how you have performed and handled the men under your command, I am hereby promoting you to Class Leader.” He announced. “It is an office from when I was trained. As a Class Leader, you shall help train and keep a pulse of how the cadets under your leadership are performing. That means you shall have say in the course work.”
Silver Spear saluted, stunned at this sudden turn of events. Pensword smiled as he remembered the unsure Unicorn that had almost left. Now, here he was, being given a means to prove himself. And he had every confidence that Silver Spear would do just that. “All of you, I want this baracks restored and inhabitable by the end of the month. We have reinforcements arriving with a whole new batch of recruits. I want all of you working to get living space prepared for your new brothers in arms. If you have a project, talk to either Silver Spear or any that he appoints as his direct subordinates. A Chain of Command will be implemented, and restructuring will be beginning now and continue till the end of the week. That is, if nothing happens that pulls me too far away.” He knocked a piece of wood with a hoof.
Hammer Strike sighed as he finished yet another sketch. At the moment he was thinking to himself, trying to figure out some setup for rebuilding and just what to name the new city. A knock on the door to his study caused him to refocus on his surroundings.
“Come in.” He called out.
“So why did you wait for me to knock?” Grif asked as he entered, dressed in full battle armor. “We both know you heard me coming.”
Hammer Strike shrugged. “I did not expect you to knock in the first place. I heard your talons and thought you would just come in. After all, you do not really need to knock.”
“It’s one of those ceremonial day things.” Grif shrugged. “Figured I’d do the whole formal thing.”
“Just naming the place.” Hammer Strike chuckled. “Afterwards we just get back to work doing whatever it is we do.”
“You know how it is, big naming ceremony, next year it’s the anniversary, 50 years the bi-centennial, 100 years the centennial, some historian’s going to expect us to do all the fancy stuff and whatnot.” Grif shrugged. “Considering we could be here to see each of those things, I’d rather at least have some kind of story to tell for today”
“We shall see how things go.” Hammer chuckled. “It still feels odd, having traveled through the city enough times to memorize where things were, and now I see this.” He shrugged. “Bringing an old castle back to life.”
“Doesn’t help that there is a massive gorge where… well, the city pretty much used to be.” Grif shrugged, a slight wince in his voice.
“So, I guess with you being here it means it is time?” Hammer Strike asked.
“Well, I figured if I came and got you, you might not end up breaking the mind of another rookie. You seriously need to stop answering them with questions.”
“That is the fun part of things.” Hammer chuckled.
“So shall we get this circus started?” Grif asked.
“We shall.” Hammer Strike stood up from his desk and strode out the door, his friend at his side.
Pensword stood in his dress armor as he inspected the Guards’ work on their own armor. It would be satisfactory for now. Scanning over the rest of the parade ground, Pensword laid eyes on the honor guard. The Gryphon Slayers stood decked out in full battle armor, ready and at attention. A wooden stage had been constructed and behind the podium the flags of Equestria, the Personal Crests of Princess Celestia, Princess Luna, Queen Cadence, the Nation of Equestria, the Current Commander’s flag, and finally, Hammer Strike’s colors all flew in the wind. The Soldiers were silent while the civilians that had arrived and some, like the Mane Six, were idly watching to see what would happen. Others were speaking in a subdued manner. A moment after Grif and Hammer Strike appeared, Celestia and Luna teleported into the courtyard to witness the event as well and stamp their seal of approval on it.
Grif smiled down at Black Rook, his own troops assembled in order, but with none of the polish pensword had expected of his men. His new standard stood over the ponies, showing first the crest of the blade feathers on the very top and under it the great horse sleipnir charging into some unseen battle. Shrial stood in the front next to Black Rook in her valkyrie-like armor, a winged flame amongst the ponies.
Hammer Strike found himself standing near Celestia and Luna, though they had yet to see him as he walked up behind them. “You are both good actors,” He said as he got close enough to them.
“To be fair, somepony told Starswirl we had to forget about you three for a thousand years or so,” Celestia pointed out.
“The fact of myself popping up with no memories of anything I had done would lead to confusion.” He sighed. “I barely remember anything from before that damned war. But it certainly explains some of your actions toward me.”
“We will need to look into that when this is done.”Lluna noted.
“We have plenty of things to look into when this is done.,” Hammer Strike said. “Luna, when you moved from Unity to... “ He paused thinking. “Canterlot, did you both take my equipment with you?”
“It’s in the armory.” Luna nodded.
“Good. You both did great in the years I was gone. At least, from what little I can remember.”
“I just wish some pieces were better looked after during my absence,” Luna noted with a sideways glance to Celestia.
Princess Celestia made a point to look right at the flags from the past. “We can talk about that later, sister.” She looked to Hammer Strike. “I am looking forward to my ghost giving a speech and a new name for this place.” She smiled lovingly at him.
“You both know I am not one for speeches.” Hammer Strike responded.
Seeing the expectation and noting no one seemed willing to be the first on the pyre, Grif took the spot at the front of all present. “Today, we stand at the precipice of greatness,” Grif began, looking out at the crowd. “The hot coals!” he called out as stomps erupted from Hammer Strike’s guards. “The Gryphon Slayers!” Pensword’s troops erupted in cheers. “The Rohirrim!” Grif said as his own guards stomped their hooves and answered with a loud “Ha!”
“Today, we reestablish a greatness that has been lost for more than a millennium. The original seat of power in equestria! Today, we take this land as our responsibility, to mold it into something that will be recalled by our grandkids grandkids as they tell the stories…. to their grandkids!” The stomping reply echoed around them, accompanied by a general roar from all present. “I believe that in taking on this burden, there could be no one better to name this place and reclaim it’s glory than our own Lord Hammer Strike!” he shouted. “If you would come up here and tell the fillies out there what to call their current station, milord.” Grif gestured for Hammer Strike to come up.
Hammer Strike walked over with the gesture before stopping in front of all. Giving a nod to Grif, he looked out to every pony and gryphon in the audience. “With history, plenty of things fade and fall between the cracks. Locations, structures, kingdoms, and even names. This year, plenty of old myths and legends have come into existence once again. So I find it fair for one more to come back. An old city shall be returning from the grave. It shall be remembered. And so I do remember it, and name it. From this point onward, now and forever, this castle and its province shall be known as New Unity!”
The crowed stomped happily in response as cheers erupted through the castle, shaking the very canopies of the Everfree. Celestia and Luna, however, seemed more than a little surprised by the name.
The Gryphon Slayers used that moment to reveal something else lost to time. The old town crest that they had squirreled away at one point. It was another relic from the house Flame that they kept. The crest of the city, with one thing added by Rarity at the last minute. A rainbow over the entire thing to represent the return of the Elements of Harmony. The Crest itself was a simple five sided shield with the point down. Two Chevrons stood imprinted in the middle. One Gold, the other Midnight Blue. Above the point stood the symbol of two Crowns to represent the rule of the diarchy. Below the Chevrons lay a rolled scroll with a red ribbon and a sun sealing it shut. A single word was inscribed on the the scroll: “Knowledge.” The other side held a blade with the hilt in the shape of the crescent moon. Engraved on this blade in bold letters lay the word “Justice.” Pensword only smiled with pride at what he was witnessing. He was a part of history now. And he now had the opportunity to shape it not once, not twice, but thrice. What a blessing.
Grif looked toward the Rohirrim with a grin “Ok, boys, you're dismissed for the afternoon. Those with night watch, be there on time. As for everypony else, be back to work tomorrow.” Grif saluted a wing at his guard, who responded in kind, placing a hoof to their shoulders. Then they returned to at ease and began to disperse.
Pensword moved to face the Gryphon Slayers. “We have kitchen duties tonight. I want you all to fall out and do what you do best: divide up the tasks and clean the place up. Also, tonight is a night that I think you all will enjoy. We have been asked to tell a few bedtime stories to the recruits. Meet at the sleep tents NLT Lunar’s first hour.”
Hammer Strike stood before his guard. He has smirked at the iony when Grif referred to them as the ‘Hot Coal’’. He never was much a one for names, so he went along with it. “Come on now, we have work to do clearing rubble for the rest.” He called out.
Pensword paused to look to at the sky from what once had been Celestia’s room. He looked behind him at Lunar Fang and smiled. For the first time in their present day they were sharing a bed. No separate mattresses or the like. They were genuinely sharing a bed. His expression looked almost pained. “Lunar Fang, my dear, would you consider me mad if I pursued the dream of trying to at least leave a message to my human family?”
“I think that they’re likely worried and you should keep trying.” Lunar Fang placed a hoof on his back.
“Thank you. I ... I do not know how it will turn out. And I wanted to ask before I devoted any resources of my mind to this project, or the bits we have accumulated.” He looked back to the sky. “I know the sky now, but I miss our home constellations. Orion, The North Star, Little Dipper and the Big Dipper, Ursa Minor and Major, Canis Major and Minor. Scorpio...” He sighed and looked to the trees as the chill wind of January seeped through the cracks of the castle. He shivered a little.
Lunar Fang smiled as she drew her husband and mate to her side. “Come away from the door, dear. Time for bed. And I think a little cuddling will do you well tonight.” She smiled as she gently led Pensword away. In a way, the two were still on their honeymoon, sharing feelings that might be considered over a thousand years old. It’s true what they say. Love endures. And these ponies were living proof of it.“Tomorrow, you and I are going to make sure that magazine retracts that article.”
“Yes, dear.” Pensword replied with a grin and a kiss on her forehead that quickly turned to a passionate kiss, muzzle to muzzle.
Extended Holiday Chp 40: Turnabout War Act 5: The Case
“Noble invitation, noble invitation...” Grif mumbled tossing mail into the fire as he sorted out the ones worth looking at. “Oh, Shawn, this one looks important.” He tossed him a large envelope adorned with multiple seals.
“Wonderful.” Hammer Strike muttered as he looked to the envelope. Inside lay a simple letter on a few sheets of paper. He frowned as he read the contents aloud.
To Lord Hammer Strike, Commander Pensword, and Grif Bladefeather of the Northern Isles.
You are hereby summoned to Canterlot to stand trial before a United Equestrian and Gryphonian court for your actions of the Third Gryphon War and any war crimes perpetrated therein. You are hereby expected to serve upon this summons within the preceding 20 days to act in your own defense for any and all charges presented.
Should you not not appear within 20 days you will be taken as though you are accepting such charges and any consequences thereof and warrants for your immediate custody shall be issued forth.
Equestrian Justice Committee Director - Iron Gavel
Gryphonian Chair of Gryphon Legal Studies Cold Case Division - Miles Highworth
The pages that followed were reports regarding possible charges and information on legal definitions. But the gist of it was a summons to some version of an international court.
“Would you look at that... And here I thought we were done with the war.” Hammer Strike commented aloud to Grif.
“What now?” Grif asked
“Oh, you know, just a summons to court to stand trial for any war crimes we committed.” He replied. “The three of us.”
“Well at least they aren’t trying to charge Pensword’s guys for back taxes or something.” Grif said. “We can beat this, right?”
Hammer Strike simply shrugged. “Let us see how it goes. It seems we have to make plans to leave for some time.”
“It’s never ‘The Government of Canterlot hereby orders you to go to a tropical island for a month’ or anything.” Grif sighed. “Well… could be worse, I guess.” He looked to Shawn. “We’re going armed, right?”
“You ask that as though we leave this building unarmed.” Hammer joked.
“Point.” Grif laughed. “But still, I don’t like this. What did we possibly do that could warrant this?”
“Enough, apparently.” He responded. “Could you bring this bit of news to Pensword?”
“On it.” Grif said, heading out the door.
Pensword sat in his old office, comparing the old map of Unity one of the Slayers had brought from the past with the map of the current forest. “Looks like we are either going to be building bridges that will grow into a row of buildings and shops over this ravine, or we are going to have to build along the edges and create..” he paused in his speech to himself as his ears swiveled. He spoke without turning. “Enter, Grif.”
“Hello, Pensword,” Grif said, cheerily. “How are you today?”
“Good,” He looked at the two maps. “Just thinking on where to start once we finish with the castle. Cleaning up the rubble and, well, we need to remove the water from that quarry.” He pointed to the map that showed a lake. “What about you?”
“Could be better. Say, what would you say about a trip to canterlot?”
“Sounds good. I think I need to see what might remain of the land holdings of my house.” Grif noticed a letter on his desk. “Plus, I would rather not keep them waiting.” He moved a wing to point to the desk where a similar summons lay. “Thankfully, they are not going after the Gryphon Slayers, nor Lunar Fang. Though I think she is going to come no matter what. How do you feel about Fox Feather taking command while we are gone?”
“In general, thats fine. But Rook will, of course, be commanding my troops. He’ll still listen to her, but I don’t think the others would accept an outsider so easily,” Grif noted, smiling apologetically. “Still not sure what they think they have on us though.”
“Understood. Silver Spear is in charge of my troops and I am sure one of the Shields or a pony Hammer Strike trusts will lead his troops. I meant for Fox Feather to act as a head general with lower generals under him.” Pensword responded before moving to face his old friend. Worry shone in his eyes. “I just hope something good comes from this event. I also wonder how Luna’s bill is coming along.”
“I just hope this doesn’t take too long.” Grif huffed.
“It is the legal system. I am banking on at least a month to two months of being in Canterlot.” A sigh escaped his muzzle. “I just hope Lunar Fang is not dragged into this. Though on the plus side, I think the hospitals in Canterlot will do well if she goes into labor.”
“I think she’s still technically dead.” Grif shrugged. “The bureaucrats won’t let anybody do anything to her as Lunar Fang until the paperwork processes.”
“Thank the Maker.” Pensword said in a subdued whisper. Relief flooded his system as he let his wings fully relax for the first time in hours. “She will be protected this round. And hopefully any time after.”
“Still. What are they really gonna do? I mean, it was a thousand years ago and any factual evidence about those events is only really available with those of us who were there,” Grif noted.
“After action reports,” Pensword muttered. “Even then, at least with the Gryphon Slayers, we already recorded our reports, bodycount, movements, and orders. I doubt my no survivors order was forgotten all these years later.” He looked to a blank wall before turning back to Grif again. “What about Gryphons? Did they record battles and reports? Heck, I would not be surprised if the charges will include killing of the Royal Family of a Gryphon King, being blamed for something the Black Tips did.”
“Well, maybe they’ll try and read our memories.” Grif shrugged. “About the only way I can think of it working.”
“Who or what would be allowed to read them? Also, I do not wish to put anypony through what I went through that night.” Pensword frowned. “This is going to be complicated. By all intents and purposes, this should be a cold case, unable to be prosecuted due to the statute of limitations.” He moved at a slow trot to the door. “I’ll get my gear. Also, a report arrived on my desk. One Dame Rarity, Holder of the Element of Harmony Generosity is looking for someone to teach her the art of fencing.” He smirked a little. “I think she heard a few leads on who might be able to teach her.”
Grif laughed. “Well, that should be fun.” He cracked his neck before following behind the commander. “Honestly,I think I’ll look forward to the challenge.”
“Good. Last report I heard, she was looking at the tapestries remaining in the old throne room. Find her there. Might do a trade and let her repair them, if possible.” He turned left and headed for their private quarters. “If you need me again, I shall be packing a wagon.” Pensword chuckled. “Strong enough to pull a small wagon now… imagine me saying that not even a year ago.” He paused, furrowing his brow. “Or was that over twenty years now?” He looked back at Grif. “Which time frame do I follow?”
“I’d say you go with the twenty seeing as you got the foal coming from that timeline. I’ll track the less than a year one and we’ll both stay ahead.” Grif laughed before shaking his head. “I really dislike Canterlot. This isn’t going to be fun, is it?”
“Not really. We will have to sit in court for a while and hear long, drawn out cases and words and cross examinations. To be honest, none of the courts act like those from the Phoenix Wright games.”
“Dang. We could really use an attorney like him, I think.”
“Same here.” Pensword replied with a laugh. “Same here. Now, I shall see you later. Oh, and pack your ceremonial garb. Just in case Princess Luna uses this event to reveal her bill. Still, all things considered, this is going to be an interesting visit. One that I hope does not end with more Gryphon body counts.”
“I don’t think the gryphons would officially go to war with Celestia. They can’t afford it. Not after what she did last time.”
“True, but there still is the shadow world to consider. Assassination, poisoning, Black Tips that are not Black Tips.” Pensword paused. “You want me to count the ways they can go after us without the legal ability to have Celestia counteract?”
Grif shrugged. “Stay in civilian zones. In public. If a single Equestrian pony gets hurt, the Gryphonians’ entire farmland ends up scorched earth. Or so the treaty says.”
“Very well,” Pensword nodded with his answer. “I think that can be done. However, we may have something else cooked up.” He shook his head. “I do not know why, but I have this gut feeling that Celestia is going have something extra planned.”
“Celestia always has something planned. It’s what she does. Anyway, I should go talk with Shrial and the others. Get Sylvio settled in. See what other stuff I can get done before we have to go.” Grif shrugged. “I guess we’ll convene tonight to discuss what we do?”
“Do not forget about Rarity.” Pensword said in parting. He clip clopped away on the cracked stones of the hall, marveling that this section of the castle was still intact after all these years.
“I won't, I won’t. Yeesh, it’s like he’s an old nanny goat or something.” Grif said, smirking as he made his way outside to find Shrial.
Grif strolled through ponyville at a quick, quiet pace, making a beeline for Carousel Boutique. In truth Grif, or rather Taze, was just a bit excited at the prospect. The one handed sword had always been limited primarily by the wielder's creativity in combat. The idea of teaching Rarity to sword fight was exciting because with her mind, the style she could create could be something truly extraordinary to see. As he approached Carousel Boutique, he took a minute to breathe before knocking harshly on the door. He then proceeded to enter the front area and wait for the seamstress to respond.
“Welcome to Carousel Boutique, where-” Rarity paused and laughed as she recognized the Gryphon. “Oh, good day, Sir Grif.” She bowed, showing that she was trying to be good natured. “I take it that the little hints I dropped reached one of your ears?” She smiled coyly as she moved to a wooden case that she opened with her magic and pulled out the rapier. “A beautiful design. And one that I simply must learn to wield. I grew up with stories of the heroic noble who could fence and defeat their enemies. And after Prince Blueblood ...” Her tone bespoke a certain ire as Grif examined her, her countenance darkening. He smirked as he watched. Good. He could use that. Though she would have to master her anger and channel it before she could become truly proficient. Her magic would certainly make the training more fun as her levitation skills were clearly up to the task. At least for exercises. He made a mental note to see just how strong her telekinesis really was later.
“I think that I could use a trick or two to help show up that pompous, arrogant, pugnacious little ...” Rarity’s face was starting to turn red before her eyes widened and she stopped in her tracks. She took a deep breath to calm herself. “Excuse me, dear. I was about to say some things that are not repeatable in polite company.”
Grif chuckled “Well, thats probably the first time I’ve been considered polite company in practically my whole life.” Grif laughed as he looked at the rapier, recognizing it instantly. He looked it over with a critical eye, impressed. “He really took care of it since I last saw it. No dust. No rust on the edges. He definitely cared about getting this to you in excellent shape,” he commented, knowing only too well how the two felt about one another. Then he got straight to the point, his tone all business as he stared into her eyes. “I think before we start anything, you and I need to be on the same level here. You realize that fencing isn’t as… polite as those old tales say, right? You need to move as fast as you think. It’s like chess, really. You need to know how your opponent is going to move as he’s moving.”
“Oh, I don’t have any delusions. It’s just like how others think that I can wave my horn and create the fanciest dress out of whole cloth.” She voiced a chuckle. “No, I understand the work that will be involved. What I want, what I really want, is to know the secrets behind the art. To do what the heroes can do. What might not be polite is really in the eye of the beholder. Plus, I heard Fancy Pants is the head of the Canterlot Royal Fencing club and if I can prove that I am just as good as a noble, that would be one more step towards my dream. Not to mention that I could show any ruffians that this is one damsel in distress that can fight back.”
“That dream, I am guessing, may or may not include trying to impress a particular noble?” Grif smiled goodnaturedly as Rarity blushed. “First, you're going to need to agree to some terms that may seem somewhat ... unreasonable.” Grif dropped the smile. “Until I tell you you can,” he said, taking the rapier out of her magical grasp and placing it in her hoof. “No magic during lessons. Let your body learn what to do and your mind will follow. We’re not going to be using blades for the foreseeable start, more for the safety of my life than yours. Control of the blade isn’t always easy at the start. You're still going to oil and polish this sword once a day and sharpen it twice a week, however. This sword needs to become as important to you as your mane. And we both know how important that is,” he said, raising his eyebrows meaningfully. “Lastly, I am going to give you some exercises. I’m not telling you to spend your days as a filthy, sweaty mess, but you need to work on your speed and endurance. You’ll do these exercises starting every second day. Can you agree to these terms?”
She smiled in a way that worried Grif. “Only if I can design something practical to hold your weapons. Yes, I know you want functionality, but it can still be stylish. Oh, and at the very least you’ll be able to show up those Nobles in Canterlot next time you visit.”
Grif stared at her with a raised eyebrow. “You do realise how many weapons I carry on my person at any given time, right? Four sets of daggers, knives, throwing blades, bow and quiver, not to mention my own swords.”
“I can start on the sword belts,” Rarity replied, her gaze determined. “You forget. I designed the dress of one Sapphire Shore, and a few other nobles besides.” A determined glint shone in her eye. “I see it as a challenge. If Lord Hammer Strike is going to need clothing that hides armor and hiding places for weapons,” she said, making a strange face. “I must learn how to make them first.” She frowned. “Sorry, dear, but you could say you are my test subject on what works and what doesn’t. So I trust you to tell me if something is working or not. You are the only one that would even dare say those things to my face outside of Rainbow. And, well, the poor dear couldn’t hold still long enough to even let me try those things.”
Grif placed a talon in front of her, momentarily raising it when her hoof came towards it. “Three rules.” He said, firmly. “Nothing frilly, no modeling, and only emeralds, black stones, or sapphires if you have to use gems. Nothing outside those three, got it?” He lowered his talon again.
“Oh, very well,” She huffed. “It’s sad, really. I had this idea of creating a diamond pin that could be used both to hold a clock together, act as a lock pick, and even function as a small throwing device to harm your opponents.” She replied with a cheeky look. “But, if you insist on those materials, I guess I can stay with them. I’ll have to rework a few of my design patterns of course to compliment the new colors, but that shouldn’t be too bothersome.”
Grif took her hoof in his talons and shook. “I’ll have the list of exercises delivered to you by tomorrow evening at the latest. When I get back from Canterlot you should be far enough along to get started on more serious training and exercises. Goodbye, Miss Rarity. And sweetie belle, if you or the crusaders touch that sword or attempt to copy whatever you might see while spying on us, I will leave you four hanging off bloomberg by your tails covered in enough tree sap to be mistaken for a tree!” Grif threatened firmly.
“Oh, Come ON!” Sweetie Belle yelled out. “I mean, whatever exercises you get my sister to do would be good for Scootaloo … eeep.” They heard hooves clattering away and up the stairs as she realized she had been caught listening in on the conversation, outsmarted again.
Grif gave a half smile at rarity as he turned to leave. “Have a good day, Rarity. I hope things go smoothly for you.” With that, he left the boutique.
Rarity huffed and looked to the half finished cloak she had been working on. It had at least three pockets that were not visible and a slit that would allow his swords to fit underneath it. She had carefully waterproofed it over a period of many days, and while the material was rather thick, the cloak had an elegance to it that bespoke what was expected of the noble gentry.
She smiled as she took out the lock she had been using to practice the application of her final accessory. She levitated a small box over from the top shelf by her spools of thead and opened it to reveal a pin made of gold gilded steel and studded with enchanted diamonds. The piece would have the appearance of a common pin, yet her tinkering to shape it hid the fact she had reinforced it with spells. The idea had been floating around in her head ever since the Canterlot Wedding. The Changelings had taken them completely by surprise and the gentry had absolutely no means in place to protect themselves while wearing the official clothing of their status. She took the pin, the culmination of her research and placed it on the cloak. Then she placed the lock on the work table. Finally, she placed a small changeling-shaped mannequin she had special designed next to the pony mannequin that wore the cloak.
She brought the lock over and placed it up against the pin. Then she removed it and began to flick the tip around through the keyhole. The diamonds glowed white and she could feel the metal shifting as it adjusted to fit the tumblers. With a few simple twists and turns, the lock clicked open. Smiling at her success, she returned the lock to the work table again. The pin might not always work, but at least for the more basic locks it appeared to be the perfect tool. “Rarity, you sly mare, you truly have outdone yourself.” She took the pin out to admire it in the light as the sun played through the diamonds, dancing and splitting into a multitude of rainbows. Without warning, she spun and flung the pin like a throwing knife, speeding it toward her target. She gave a satisfied smirk as she retrieved the pin from the mannequin's “eye.” “Yes, I would call this a complete success. Hammer Strike is going to love it!” She squealed before blushing violently. “Come now, Rarity, get a hold of yourself. Don’t go turning into a jibbering fan girl. You’re better than that.” She kept herself composed for all of about thirty seconds before she let out another giddy squeal. “Oh, I just can’t stand it!”
About ten minutes or so later, she finally got all of the excitement out of her system. She wondered what Grif would do with her designs. She frowned as she contemplated the gems. Grif would not like the diamonds. But now that she had officially found success, it should be a simple matter to reproduce with emeralds instead of diamonds. Hopefully this would cause good things. In a way, she wanted to be the tailor for the troops who would need alterations. It certainly wasn't a bad occupation. It would give her good business. Being with Hammer Strike a little more often was just a side benefit. That was all, yes. A side benefit. She would be there for the troops. She stepped back a little to admire her work after remounting the pin, smiling smugly at her “sound” reasoning. “Rarity, old girl, you are a genius!”
“So, Shawn, you need to get wings.” Grif said. “Because frankly, if you had wings we wouldn’t need the train.”
“So sorry. Let me just magically modify myself to have wings.” Hammer Strike replied, his voice heavy laden with sarcasm.
“Thank you for your consideration,” Grif responded cheekily.
Pensword walked up at the end of the conversation, having left instructions with both Fox Feather and Silver Spear. “Well, at least we are getting a special express train to Canterlot.” He paused and looked to Grif. “Nice cloak. I like it. Should keep you warm in the mountain air. Got my winter gear packed for when we arrive, myself.”
“it was a... gift” Grif said. “In return for a favor I’m going to be helping with”
“Good to hear.” Pensword’s ear twitched and he smiled. “I can hear the train.” His expression took on a dreamy look.
“You know, it’s almost freaky how you do that,” Grif said.
“What do you mean?” Pensword asked, confused while Lunar Fang giggled behind a wing.
“Well...” Grif was cut off as the whistle sounded. “That’s how much longer ahead of us you could hear the train. Not sure if it’s just because it’s a train or what, but it’s definitely kinda freaky.” Within a few minutes the train was in view and a couple minutes after that, it slowly came to a halt at the station with a loud hiss.
“So, the usual place? Back of the train?” Pensword asked the group as the conductor stepped out to help any passengers who may be boarding. “I wonder if we could build WWI tanks at some point.” He asked in Draconic.
“No.” Hammer Strike said almost instantly, his tone adamant.
“Sorry, guys. No royal car this time.” The conductor said, responding to the original query. “The passenger car’s that way.” he paused and looked at Lunar Fang. “I am sorry, Ma'am, but you are not on the passenger list. I’ll have to ask you to remain on the platform.” He barely finished before Lunar Fang got into his face, fangs bared and hissing. A leathered bat wing lay at the base of his throat.
“I am going. Even if I have to hang onto the roof of the car, I am going. I shall not be denied the time with my mate and husband.”
The conductor gulped and nodded his head a little, slowly stepping away from the crazy looking Thestral and her wing. “Of, Of course.” He said, chuckling nervously. “One more to the car.
“No problem,” Hammer Strike responded, flat faced as usual.
Pensword looked out the passenger car’s window and blinked before turning around to face them. “Uh, we just took a switch. We are not heading to Grand Canterlot Station.” He paused. “Do you think ... could this be the private way? Like for the Princesses?” He paused as he whipped his head back to the window. The sun was suddenly swallowed by a vast curtain of darkness. “We just went into the mountain! Another tunnel?” he asked in shock and surprise. Hammer Strike only shrugged in response.
“So it’s a political arrest.” Grif huffed. “Well that’s comforting.”
“Political Arrest?” Pensword asked before shaking his head. “Just how bad will this be?” The historian asked as he looked away from the window. “Are we doing it on Earth? Ancient Equestrian? Modern Equestrian?” He tensed a little as they heard the train’s brakes applying, their car jolting as the train began to slow.
“It means, Pensword, that we are too important to publicly be taken into custody or jailed,” Grif said. “We will likely meet a procession of guards, probably no more than five or six, who will ‘escort’ us to our rooms and we’ll find out more from there.”
“Good. So a bit like the English and the Tower of London.” Pensword frowned. “How much is it for our safety? How much for our reputation? And how much for the safety of those outside of the wall?” He shook his head. “Very well. I think I shall wear my full dress uniform from the Third Gryphon War. Or rather, the ceremonial armor.” He walked to a corner of the train car, popped open a chest, and began to don the armor. “If I am to meet them like you say, I must show just who it is they are placing under arrest.”
“Pensword, these are guards. They are trained predominantly to stand and look intimidating with a minor in taking down pickpockets and such. We are three of the deadliest warriors in history. Each with over a hundred gryphon soldiers too our names. They are there to make the rest of the ponies and whatever gryphon officials there are believe Celestia and Luna could control us. I doubt any of them honestly believe they could stop us or protect us better than we could protect them,” the gryphon said.
“Yes, but this armor still denotes that they are taking in the Commander of the Third Grpyhon War: a hero in the schools from what Lunar Fang has said.” He smiled a little. “Moonshade’s idol. Sorry, I just, if I was human I would wear the best suit or uniform I owned and hold my head high and defiant. Still, I bet you dollars to Donuts that this is the Gryphons’ doing.”
“Well, Equestria really couldn’t risk angering the crystal empire by jailing national heroes, not to mention the various cities and villages that might take that the wrong way in the kingdom. So yeah, I think it’s pretty safe to say it was the gryphons,” Grif said.
“Hammer Strike? You sure are silent over there. Did you finally get the sleep you need?” Pensword asked as he placed the helmet on his head and turned to face the pony lord. “I wonder where we shall be staying under arrest during our time here.”
“Just thinking to myself.” Hammer Strike responded.
“About what?” Pensword asked as he finished walking to his seat. The brakes shrieked once again, throwing them against their seats a little harder than before. “We seem to be arriving at the station. And we are still underground, I think.” Pensword said as he looked out the blackened windows.
They were met by a squad of five armed solar guards followed by three armored gryphons. The gryphons approached the trio while the ponies stayed back, glaring at their backs.
“We are here to escort you to your rooms. Please surrender your weapons and follow us.” The gryphon said. Grif laughed raucously.
“Oh. Surrender your weapons. Thats a good one.” He kept laughing till he noted the guards’ silence. “Oh.” He looked to hammerstrike. “They’re serious?”
Hammer Strike only shrugged in response.
Pensword looked the Gryphon dead in the eyes. “Only one may ask me to give up the sword of my station. As I do not see her, I am legally unable to surrender my weapon at this time.” He did not laugh. He just glared at the Gryphon who stepped to stand before him.
“Let me put it this way, fellas.” Grif said, pointing to pensword. “He can’t give you his weapon.” He pointed to Hammer Strike “You’re welcome to try and lift his weapon.” He pointed to himself “And I’ll gladly give you as many throwing blades as you want. Should I start with the eyes?”
The gryphons looked at grif, then to the ponies who seemed to be totally ignorant of the situation, then back at them. “Just keep your weapons in their places.” the gryphon said, his voice straining.
Grif responded with something in Gryphic that neither pensword nor hammerstrike could pick up, but the gryphon’s eyes widened for a moment before they narrowed to a murderous glare. “Just follow,” he growled as he turned with his companions and they stalked off. The pony guards came into place, forming up around them as they moved forward.
They slowly left the stone platform and found themselves moving through corridors and areas that Pensword guessed were the servant paths. Before long they arrived in a long, well furnished corridor lined with doors that most likely lead to parts of this closed off section of living space. Pensword looked to his mate before looking at the Guards. “We room together.” It was a statement, not a request. At either end of the Hallway two large doors stood, waiting to lead the more adventurous pony to other areas of the castle.
“Very well.” The pony guards stepped in before the gryphon could talk. “Thank you for your help, gentlemen, but I believe the princess has stated that the gryphons are not allowed to know the location of the accused’s rooms on account of the last incident with the black tips. We will lead them on from here.” The lead gryphon was about to argue when something flashed through the air, clipping a feather from his crest. He looked to Grif, but the gryphon just smiled and nodded looking no different than he had before. All three gryphons headed off, growling as the pony led them through one of the doors while magic doubles went through the other set to divide and confuse any Gryphons that may have gotten “lost.”
The guards made their way through the seeming maze of corridors with ease. The leader smiled “So, what did you say to him?” he asked as they moved.
“Huh?” grif asked.
“What did you say to lieutenant Stick up his Flank back there to get that reaction?”
“Oh! Not much. I may have implied something about his mother and those words being the opposite of her wishes the other night.” To the guards’ credit, they managed to maintain their composure for a solid minute before they broke.
“So what’s the feel around the castle? I mean, you guys can’t tell me Equestria really believes they can make thousand year old charges stick?” Grif asked as they moved along.
“From what we can tell, this isn’t even from the emperor,” a pony beside grif noted. “It’s just some king who claims Hammer Strike killed his eighth granduncle twenty times removed or something and he wants petty revenge.”
“And what exactly are we looking at here on the astronomically off chance they win this trial?” Grif asked him
“Politics being what they are? The emperor won’t want to anger Equestria, Equestria won’t want to anger the crystal empire or risk doing something that destabilizes the peace, you might be banished from some gryphon kingdom and pay a fine. Even if celestia wanted to, she couldn’t hold you to more than that. Word is Queen Cadenza is sending over her own attorney from the crystal empire.”
“Oh? Do we have a name?” Pensword asked as they followed through the mazes. “Also, where are Luna’s Guards?” he noticed a lack of thestrals and felt surprisingly ill at ease. “Is there something amiss?”
“While Celestia was able to put limitations on the gryphon guards, the gryphon officials decided Thestrals were too risky to guard you. They might simply let you three escape or something. As for the name, it was … something Roost. Apparently he comes from a family who looks after birds?”
“Too Riksy?” Pensword chuckled at the words. “Well, I can say that I find that rather humorous. Thank You.” He smiled. “When are we meeting with the legal team?” He looked to his mate. “Seems we get a nice honeymoon on the Gryphon’s beak.” he spoke with a chuckle.
Lunar Fang smiled. “At least we don’t have to kill anything to stay together this time around.” She nuzzled under his chin a little.
The guards exited into a familiar hallway in the palace. “You're going to be staying in the rooms down here,” the guard explained. “Anything you need will be provided as you ask for it.”
“Wait, please tell me we are not sharing the same room? I am married now. I doubt that could work again.” Pensword replied upon realizing where they were. “Just how much of this area is for our personal use?”
“Princess Celestia had the entire wing sectioned off,” the guard explained. “There are plenty of rooms for the four of you to choose from.”
A sigh of relief passed out of Lunar Fang and Pensword’s muzzles at the same time. “Thank the maker.” Pensword muttered.
“Am I also under house arrest as I am staying with my mate?” Lunar Fang asked. “Because I am not leaving him alone. We married and pledged to stick through the tough times and the easy times.”
“Don’t worry, commander,” the guard said as they stopped before a door “Take this room if you’d like.”
“Very well, this shall be our room.” Lunar Fang smiled and nuzzled Pensword again. “Come on. We should retire early for tomorrow.”
The next morning the group found themselves hauled up in one of the larger audience chambers of the castle. It held a large round table and little else. It had taken nearly an hour for Grif to get one of the guards to agree to bring coffee and donuts from Joe’s. And no, the palace staff’s coffee and donuts were not an acceptable substitute, thank you very much.
Currently, the group was sitting around the table, each with a cup and a box of donuts on the table. “so…” Grif started, “when is this lawyer supposed to show?”
“Eventually.” Hammer Strike replied.
Pensword glared at Grif. “I do not drink Coffee. I would prefer a nice tea, please.” His tone showed he was joking with Grif at the fact a cup of coffee now sat in front of him. Their friendship was too strong to get into an argument over a simple cup of coffee. He paused a moment before pulling a small stalk of sugar cane from a saddle bag. After using a knife on his person to peel the outer bark off, he began to chew.
“Yeah? Well you can get tea from the palace kitchens.” Grif chuckled as he took a sip of his coffee “But Joe’s coffee, you can’t really get anywhere else.”
“True.” Pensword spoke around the stalk. He smiled as a tea trolley was rolled to the table by one of the servants in the castle. “Thank you, kindly.” he spoke with a nod of his head. Lunar Fang shook her head, smiling as she sipped her coffee. The tea kettle was poured and a tea cup placed in front of Pensword, who took a sip and sighed contentedly. “That hits the spot,” he muttered. He looked to a wall clock. “Well, another ten minutes and he will be counted late.”
“Sorry, sorry,” a new voice spoke hastily as the sound of rapid hooves echoed through the halls and into the room through the crack beneath the doors.
“That voice…” Grif looked to hammerstrike. “Did that sound familiar in any way?”
Hammer Strike only shrugged in response. “You are asking me, somepony who forgot practically everything about the present, if I recognize a voice?”
Grif turned to pensword. “You don’t think…?”
Before Pensword could answer, a blue earth pony entered the room. His mane was pitch black and spiked backwards. An attorney’s badge flashed on his flank, showing his special talent as a pony to be in the courts of law. He wore a blue suit with a white shirt and a red tie. As he attempted to stop, he lost his balance and ended up colliding head first into the table. It took him a few minutes to recover. “Sorry I’m late,” he said as he rose to his hooves. “The train was delayed.”
“Trains can do that at times.” Pensword replied in stunned silence. He turned to look at Grif to try and read his friend’s expression. Lunar Fang, on the other hoof, was trying to understand the reason why her mate looked like he had seen a ghost.
“Greetings, gentlemen. I am Phoenix Roost, and I am to be your attorney,” he said rubbing the back of his neck with a hoof.
Pensword let out a snort as he almost lost the stalk. “Well now ... I feel safer already with you on the case.” He frowned. “Hopefully it is an open and shut case, rather hard to build a case on thousand year old events.”
“Well, as far as I can derive from the information,” the pony said as he placed a briefcase on the table, “they’re claiming you each slaughtered over a hundred gryphons without mercy or caring and that a good half of them were dead before the war officially started,” he said, taking out his papers.
“Two hundred fifty eight.” Pensword muttered as he looked at the briefcase. “All drunk and certain of no reprisal for the slaughter and death and partial consumption of three hundred Pony lives, two hundred fifty of whom were civilians, and eighty of whom were children or young stallions or mares.” His hooves shook. “Don’t they dare say that.” He hissed. “The war started when they started raiding the towns ten years before official declaration was made after the failed assassination attempt of High Chieftess Princess Luna.” He had risen to his hooves, snorting in anger as Lunar Fang stood up to place a calming wing over his back. He looked at the briefcase on the table with a gaze that could maim at the very least.
“Then there was that 70 or so we tracked down on our way back to Unity,” Grif added. “And the ten before we met up with pensword. Hammer Strike, did you kill anyone before the war started?” grif asked.
Hammer Strike shook his head. “No. I did not kill any before the war.”
“There you go,” Grif said
“Ok, so you’re saying you're guilty?” Phoenix Roost asked with a raised eyebrow.
“I wasn’t aware it was a war crime to slaughter gryphon soldiers who were killing ponies on Equestrian soil,” grif noted rather cooly. “It’s not a question about being guilty or innocent here, Mr. Roost. The question is why.”
“Under Equestrian laws, even the laws from a thousand years ago, it is permissible for ponies who have no other options to fight to defend their lives, their families, their lords, and their lord’s property from death or destruction. Under those laws, I was within my right to do what I did.” Pensword looked at Mr. Roost. “I know the laws very well.” He snorted as he realized something else. “Either fight or die and be eaten is a rather cut and dry option, is it not?”
“Ok, I can use that.” Phoenix roost nodded, looking at grif “But that doesn’t cover you.”
Grif shrugged. “Technically, I can plead guilty to all charges and walk away untouched. I wasn’t Equestrian when I did those things. I am not even Equestrian now.” He held a claw up as roost opened his mouth. “Or Gryphonian. I can only be punished under the laws of the Northern Isles when it was its own nation. Seeing how it merged with Equestria, I am technically connected to no one till the bureaucrats figure it all out.”
“Are you sure that could even stand?” Pheonix Roost asked.
“How many war criminals have been in this situation before?” Grif returned.
“Not a lot of ponies can say they come from somewhere that hasn’t existed for a thousand years. I’m not sure how the courts will take it. If it does work then you can bet it wouldn’t work again. However, according to the information I have, you fought those battles under the banner of House Strike. So even if you're not Equestrian, you are still under its authority.”
Grif looked to hammerstrike. “And if I say I’m really sorry and it won’t happen again?” He asked the pony lord jokingly.
“You are fired.” Hammer Strike said instantly before turning with a smirk. “And re-hired. You would not leave anyways.”
“Someone has to make sure you actually sleep once a week.” Grif said, grinning.
“Don’t most ponies need to sleep more than once a week?” Phoenix Roost asked, confused.
“Most, yes.” Hammer Strike responded. “Myself on the other hand, no.”
“How are you still standing?”
“I have gone well over a year without sleep. I am sure a week will not bother me.” Hammer Strike replied.
“...” Phoenix stared at hammer strike, jaw open. “Well then,” he said, regaining his composure. “How would you three like to go through with proceedings? Are you all going to be present for every day of the trial? Or would you prefer to be there only when it’s necessary?”
“Depends on what is on my table.” Pensword replied, looking at a scroll in front of him. He had taken it from his pouch. “I am technically still Commander of the Equestrian Forces until the order from Princess Luna states I am to be placed on leave.” He snorted with a shake his his muzzle and set the scroll down.
“Is there some officer you need to talk to about leave during the trial?” Phoenix asked.
“Sure. One moment.” Pensword muttered, a glint suddenly shining in his eye. He picked up a polished tray that no longer had teacups on it. “Hello, Sir? I request permission for leave due to being indicted for War Crimes.”
Pensword lowered his voice. “Very well, I shall send a requisition to Princess Luna and Princess Celestia for the leave.” Pensword dropped the tray. “I, am, it.” Pensword growled, putting weight to every word. “I am the entire army of Equestria. Unless the Princesses want me at something, I have my time devoted to this trial. How could we go from over a thousand strong standing army with more in reserve to just me?”
“And you both say I need to see a therapist the most. Even with all that has happened to me, I do not talk to myself…” Hammer Strike muttered, rolling his eyes lightly as he joked.
Phoenix Roost stared at the group, wide eyed. “Why do I always get the crazy ponies?” he sighed, putting a hoof to his forehead.
“Oh, Pensword does need you to arrange for him to be allowed to leave the palace on a doctor’s appointment tomorrow,” Grif spoke up as he checked his own calendar for anything he needed to be at. “Just remembered you had me reschedule that appointment you and Lunar Fang had in Ponyville for Canterlot, remember?”
They both gaped, shocked as they looked to each other and then at her belly. “How could we forget?” They asked, their voices ringing as one. They looked back at the attorney. “Yes, we need to see a doctor.” He looked to his mate and wife. “Oh, my… I am nervous now. Even more so than before.” He took out the stalk he was chewing and cut more so he could finish it off, chewing as hard as he could to channel his emotions.
“Uh, I’ll see what i can do,” Phoenix said. “You’ll probably be required to take a guard with you, though.”
“As long as it is one solar and one lunar,” Lunar Fang muttered.
“Well then, I think that covers about everything. Trials start next week,” Pheonix said, passing them each several documents. “You’ll each naturally be expected to give a statement during the trials.”
“Understandable.” Pensword replied with a firm nod of his head. “I look forward to getting all of this over with.” A communal “Mmhmm” echoed through the room as the others nodded in agreement.
“What's going on?” Grif said as the three of them were rather forcibly shoved inside yet another conference room. It was a few hours after their meeting with Phoenix when the guards had suddenly come to their rooms and taken them to this one without so much as a hint of an explanation.
“What is going on now?” Pensword asked out of a human habit as he looked around the room, trying to understand just what was happening.
Hammer Strike simply took in the details of the room and who was in it. “Hello, Luna.” He said aloud.
From a shadow in the far corner of the room, Luna walked into view. “How do you keep doing that?” she asked.
Hammer Strike only shrugged in response.
“High Chieftess.” Pensword replied with a Thestral bow. “‘Tis good to see thee again.”
Luna nodded to pensword “There is no need to bow right now, commander.”
“I am only making up from the improper ways I have greeted thee in the past.” Pensword replied, standing up to look at the wall behind Princess Luna. “I shall assume it is thee who brought us to this room? May I ask for what purpose?”
“My sister has become complacent during my absence. When we were banished, she had the military disbanded. Only the guard serves to keep equestria safe. And while I am not one to disregard our royal protectors….”
“They are unprepared for full scale combat,” Grif said, cutting to the point.
“Laughably so,” Luna said with a sigh. “I wish to put forth a bill for the re-militarization of Equestria.”
“A smart choice.” Hammer Strike said. “Better safe than sorry.”
“Agreed. Especially if we face another war like the third. If that happened with only minimal palace guards to protect the land, we would have Gryphons in the heart of Equestria by year’s end.” Pensword muttered looking towards Lunar Fang.
“Equestria hasn’t had a full blown military in almost a millennium” Lunar Fang noted skeptically. “How would you fund it? Who would train them? Who would house them?”
“It just occurred to me…” Hammer Strike started. “I had a bank account in the past. Is my account still active?”
“Unless your death was confirmed, which it wasn’t.” Luna responded.
“I had put funds away… With interest…” Hammer Strike paused. “I will need to check that.”
“As for training,” Grif shrugged, “I think between Pensword’s formal training and my personal training with Graff, we could get a basic structure set up. Heck, aren't we already doing this in New Unity?”
“Yes, but that is with the washouts of the two groups of the Princess’ personal guards.” Pensword looked to Princess Luna, concerned. “What we are talking about here is the total and complete rebuilding of a military from the ground up. Where would the troops come from? Conscription? Mandatory service?”
“We could hire a few mercenaries,” Grif pointed out. “Round it out with some experienced fighters and have them teach the newer ones.”
Pensword looked from Grif to High Chieftess Luna. “Well I would assume that the High Chieftess will have an idea. May we hear it now? Or are we going to hear it later on?”
“I was hoping that if Unity were to establish a standing army for an example, the lords and nobles may move to acquire their own and we could then constitutionally tie their loyalty to the crown.”
“That ... could work. But it could also cause nobles to use said armies to take territories or manors they want from other nobles.” Pensword replied. “It would be a good example, but one that I caution greatly. At least that is what counsel I have to give from the mind of the human you gave me,” he replied with a wink.
“And if you, commander, were to police this military?” Luna asked. “If the paragon of strategy were to place his own force for the task of keeping others in order? In this very room stand three of Equestria's most potentially dangerous beings, aside from our self,” luna noted. “I am hoping that your combined reputation would be enough to cow them into order.”
“I can use that.” Pensword replied with a laugh. “Yes. I can see the forces of the Commander of Equestria to act as the military police.” He paused. “I wonder how many in House Hurricane would be willing to join this police force.” He paused and smirked. “We are still allowed to go on a campaign if needed? We will draw ire and attention by building an army. Also, I feel that with us building an army, that might prompt the Crystal Empire to build their military again as well.” He paused a second before laughing. “This land mass shall become a fortress if I let it.”
“So. Would you support this bill?” luna asked. “I am afraid my influence is not what it used to be in the house of lords. I need help.”
“Of course.” Hammer Strike responded.
“Thou hast my word and backing.” Pensword replied. He paused. “However, this will come at one request. When thou re-openest the communications with the Thestrals, I wish to be present.”
“I would not have it any other way.” Luna nodded.
“I’m all for this.” Grif nodded. “But building an army is going to take some time. And thats, unfortunately, the one thing we can’t force.”
“Too true.” Luna nodded. “Would it be reasonable to say Unity could have a small scale working military within 6 months?”
“A very crude working military example, I could have in 6 months. That is, if you do not mind me breaking up the Gryphon Slayers into all officer ranks.” He paused. “But yes, I can do that in six months.”
“Very good. I’ll be in touch. You may return to your rooms now.” luna said, nodding in dismissal with a smile on her muzzle. “And you, Hammer Strike, have an appointment.”
Pensword and Lunar Fang nodded their heads in thanks to High Chieftess Luna and left, showing that they would respect her request not to bow to her.
Hammer Strike raised a brow in question.
“We are ready to repair your memories.” Luna said.
Luna led Hammer Strike through the halls into a large sectioned off bare room. The room contained nothing except for the two of them. “This is where we will perform the spell.”
“Where is Celestia?” Hammer Strike asked before he paused. “Nevermind. Behind us.”
Princess Celestia cleared her voice. “I can see what my sister means about your hearing. Still, it’s good to hear that your hearing is still the same. Shall we begin when you are ready?” She asked with a chuckle. “Luna, if you would stand on the other side of the room, I think this spell could have a wide area of effect. So standing in opposite corners should hopefully help us contain it.”
Luna nodded as she moved to the indicated spot. “Mother knows the last thing we need is something going wrong.”
“Start whenever you are both ready. I am as ready as I will ever be.” Hammer Strike said aloud.
As either alicorn concentrated, their horns flared with Celestia’s golden aura and Luna’s dark blue respectively. From each horn a tendril crawled through the air to Hammer Strike. At last, the two magics met as they made contact with the earth pony, running across his body in waves of blue and gold, first separate as they met in the middle, then they combined, forming a series of gold and blue lines as they flowed over Hammer Strike’s body, wrapping, writhing, and shifting like snakes.
Pictures flashed by Hammer Strike’s eyes as he began to remember, the long lost memories boiling to the surface. His human counterpart, their arrival, the wedding, Chrysalis, Ponyville, all of it came flooding back to him. Then, within seconds, it was over. Taking a deep breath, he blinked a couple of times as he looked around again. “Wow.” Surprisingly, the room was undamaged. Though the area of effect was still rather visible for those who had the ability to see magical residue. The power had quite literally expanded to the point that it had almost touched the two sisters as they cast their spell.
“Take your time,” Luna said. “Such experiences generally take a while to sink in.”
“Considering I remembered around forty years worth of experiences all at once, Yeah…” He sighed. “That will take some time.” He gave a small smile of gratitude. “But it feels wonderful to remember again.”
“I am glad to hear that.” Princess Celestia replied. “While you finish processing those memories, I shall be meeting with some nobles that require my time.” She smiled and turned to the doors behind her, then walked away at a leisurely pace. She soon exited the room, the double doors shutting behind her with a soft boom.
“Well, I must attend to things,” Luna said, heading for the door.
“Hold it.” She heard Hammer Strike call out.
“Yes?” Luna asked, looking back.
“Take me to the armory.” Hammer Strike said aloud, his tone taking a darker turn.
Luna chuckled nervously, but nodded. “Right this way.” she said, the whites of her eyes a little larger than normal as they began the slow walk to the armory where he had been so recently before, and yet so very long ago.
Grif yawned as he looked up from his book. He had made a request about somewhere he could train while staying in the castle, but no answer had returned. So, the gryphon was stuck with his room and his book for now. “Don’t bother knocking!” he called out.
The door opened and Pensword and Lunar Fang entered smiling, blushing, and looking just a little nervous. “Well, she is pregnant.” Pensword said with a nervous laugh, which earned a prompt wing smack from Lunar Fang. “We have a nice developing baby that is five months along and we cannot be happier. We told them that even if they could tell, we do not want the gender be known.”
Lunar Fang smiled. “I want my first baby to be a surprise. As it was to the Thestrals and Ponies of the bygone years. It is my small way to pay respect to their actions during the war.”
“Congratulations, you two.” Grif smiled. “Couldn’t be happier for you. When this is all done, we’ll have to find something to toast.”
“Agreed.” Pensword replied. “This is,” he paused. “I wonder if we could get Pinkie to make candy cigars or something?” he muttered as he sat down, Lunar Fang soon joining him as she nuzzled the back of his neck.
“Uh uh. That’s my job.” Grif smiled “I’ll talk with bon bon when we get back. Your job is to keep with her and make sure there isn’t anything lacking, like pickles and ice cream.”
“Or Truffles,” Pensword replied with a laugh.
“Or Cake,” Grif responded with a shake of his avian head.
“Ooh, cake. I like that idea.” Lunar Fang replied with a smirk.
“Let’s go get cake then,” Pensword replied. “As soon as we are done here.” he paused and shook his head. “Before we get any more sidetracked, we did find a place to house the crib for the moment. At least till we get a proper bedroom set up later on. We will be staying in the main sleeping chamber as there is more then enough room for a bed and a crib and the needed supplies to dress and the like.”
“Good for morale too.” Grif said, smiling. “I imagine the troops are going to be happy to hear New Unity is getting its first baby. Seems more fitting that it would be the commander and the living legend, Lunar Fang, bringing it to them as well.”
“Very true. Seeing as it was legend that she was with foal before she vanished into the mists of history.”
“Well then, should we see if we can raid Celestia’s personal cake supply?” Grif asked. “I have it on reasonably good authority there is a red velvet cake waiting there.”
“Then we shall depart.” Pensword replied before blinking and taking on a sad look. “I miss my brother.” He muttered. “That was a phrase our family would use.” He shook his head. “Still, I think a velvet cake will do wonders for us. Let us go.”
Luna stared at hammerstrike nervously. It had been five minutes since she had removed the cover from the Ursa Armor and the earth pony lord had not said anything. He just stood there, stock still. “I found out upon my return that Celestia had it put in storage,” she said. “I have been trying to repair it when I can, but ... it is so far gone already…”
“So much effort…” Hammer Strike started, his voice barely a whisper. Before Luna could say anything in response, he snorted, steam coming from his nose. “Effort put to waste.” He said aloud, his brows furrowed.
“I swear. Before my banishment I kept it maintained. I kept it clean and looked after it. I had no control over this.” Luna spoke in a tone she had not used in centuries. That of a child fearful of getting in trouble.
“You. Aren’t in trouble.” Hammer Strike closed his eyes and sighed wearily.
Luna visibly calmed down. Thank goodness. He wasn’t blaming her. She wouldn’t have to worry about punishment. She opened her mouth to speak her gratitude only to be cut off.
“Celestia, on the other hand...” Hammer Strike exhaled steam once again as he vented some of his growing anger out. “Is in deep trouble...” He sputtered, turned on the spot, and headed for the exit at a slow and steady walk.
Luna stared, her face agape with horror. She disappeared in a flash of blue light, re-appearing before Celestia as she sat on her throne, listening to Baron Blueblood speak. She raised a hoof, interrupting Blueblood in his speech and motioning for silence. Her eyebrow raised in confusion and inquiry at Luna’s sudden appearance and the strange look upon her muzzle.
“He knows!” Luna spoke breathlessly before vanishing again.
Celestia’s pupils shrunk into tiny black pinpricks. The solar princess immediately stood up, her wings fluttering nervously as her eyes darted across the room. “We shall have to reschedule this, Baron Blueblood. Something of an emergency has come up, and I need to….” she was interrupted as the large doors of the throne room burst open. Standing there in the doorframe, the very picture of doom, was Hammer Strike, a glare fixed solidly on his face.
The Guards who were to stand guard by the doors were both trying to pull back on the two lassos around Hammer Strike’s neck and torso. Yet all they were doing was making small scratches and scuff marks on the floor as the mighty lord of legend pulled them with him. Already she could hear the sounds of eight more guards rushing to try and stop the mad lord.
“Celestia Solaria Galaxia!!” Hammer Strike called out. A hush fell upon the room as silence reigned throughout the court. The kind of silence that could only come from someone invoking a middle name with parental authority. Witnesses would later report the princess of the sun whimpered as she looked at Lord Hammer Strike.
“You are in deep trouble, young lady!” Hammer Strike finished, jabbing a smoking hoof in her direction.
“Excuse me, lord Hammer Strike, but we were in the middle of an audience. If you have a grievance with the princess, you should-”
“Shut it, Baron Blueblood!” Hammer Strike snapped, fully walking into the throne room, dragging the guards, now ten ponies strong, behind him. A unicorn guard finally tried to tether a mana rope to one of the pillars outside the wall only to feel it stretch and snap with the group. “We can deal with your issues later. For now, leave this room.” Hammer Strike’s whole body was smoking.
The baron made his exit as quickly as possible, his eyes bugging out. “Wise decision.” Hammer Strike murmured before turning back to Celestia.
“In fact,” Hammer Strike continued as he looked to the ropes around him, slowly burning them to ash and slag. “All of you are to leave. EXCEPT for you, Celestia.”
Many of the guards heeded the lord’s words, but one or two remained standing nervously by, hooves grasping their halberds.
“That. Was. An. ORDER!” He shouted.
And with the sound of clanking metal the halberds lay clattering on the floor alone, their owners galloping out the door as fast as their hooves could carry them. Hammer kicked the doors, easily slamming them shut.
“Now then.” He said, turning his attention back to Celestia. “You. Have some explaining to do.” He said, walking towards her.
“Explaining?” she asked as she tried very hard to keep her tone even rather than reducing it to another whimper. “Explaining what?”
“Explaining why the armory consists of damaged, worn down, aged, and even broken gear.” He said.
“Well with the decommissioning of the army there wasn’t much need for weapons and arms. And maintaining them seemed to be a strain on resources. You know how hard it is to get a hold of ebony in these times?” She asked, her frame shaking like a frail leaf beneath his gaze. And she was about to get burned.
“So, you have no army. No weapons. No defense.” He counted on. “If another nation were to attack, what can you do in response?” He called out, trying to keep from yelling.
“After the third gryphon war, rumors started to spread. No nation would attack out of fear that I would burn their fields to the ground.” She said. “Diplomacy seemed the better option rather than war. And besides, we have the guard.”
“Oh yes, and we all know how the guard did such a splendid job during the wedding, didn’t they?” He said. “I can remember it now. A good sum of them wanted to run.”
“The training quality has gone down in the past few decades, I’ll admit, but surely with proper training they’ll be able to defend Equestria fine.” Celestia attempted to reason, feeling less and less wiggle room as Hammer Strike systematically cut down her arguments one by one.
“Had we not returned, I doubt they would get that training!” He said louder. “Luna has been trying to get you to open your eyes and realize this. Your guards aren’t trained that well. I’ll admit it though, I was amazed that they even TRIED to hold me back.”
“They’ve been getting over the absence of Shining Armor. They’ll adjust and get better.” she said.
“Adjusting to the fact they are missing their commander?” He asked, sighing heavily as he tried to keep at least somewhat calm.
“Qualified leaders don’t just randomly appear every day.” Celestia noted. “Who could have led them?”
“So if they had a changeling in front of them wanting to harm them, they would just sit there waiting for a command to attack?” He questioned, his tone a mixture of disbelief and disappointment.
“Well, no, but surely you remember how it is trying to keep a large group focused without a voice of authority amongst them.” Celestia said.
Hammer Strike placed a hoof on his head as he sighed. “What happened to you in that fight?” He asked, changing the topic to try and keep himself from getting worse than he was already.
“I haven’t led a combat force in almost a thousand years.” Celestia said. “And I was incapacitated by Chrysalis”
“Next you’re going to tell me you didn’t even train for those thousand years.” He sighed heavily, placing a hoof on his face as he exhaled, closing his eyes.
Celestia said nothing. Her eyes visibly widened.
When Hammer Strike received no response, even Celestia could feel the temperature in the room pick up. “Don’t you even dare…”
“I had too much-” celestia started.
“Don’t you even DARE tell me another excuse!” He yelled out, his eyes literally sparking as he tried to keep himself from igniting the air. “One thousand years without training. Without practice...”
Hammer Strike shuddered, the smoke gradually dissipating. When he had regained his composure, he spoke again. “You have one hour. Get your schedule cleared for the next week. Possibly two weeks, if need be.” Hammer Strike said, his tone level as he kept his anger in check. “You will return right back to this room in one hour. Not a second more. Or so help me, I will hunt you down through this castle.” He sat down, sighing to himself.
Celestia said nothing, her head hanging low with her ears against her head like a shamed foal. She got to her hooves and headed for the door without a word, her usually flowing mane drooping in defeat.
Down in the kitchens, Grif shot up slightly, his eyes widening. “I just got the oddest feeling something extreme is happening, You two feel that rage in the air?” he asked.
Pensword paused and shook his head. “Not really. I felt nothing.” He looked to his wife.
“All I felt was that our child moved a little.” She admitted. Then she paused, her ears swivelling with Pensword’s. They both looked at each other and shuddered. “Now that you mention it, the air does seem different.”
“Well, Celestia had better hurry up,” Grif said, looking at the half eaten cake and cutting another slice. “She’s going to miss this cake.”
Twilight Sparkle sat lazily on the library floor reading her book. It had been a quiet day in Ponyville, something that had been in rather short supply of late. She was just getting to the climax of the third chapter when, in a flash, she found herself landing on the hard floor of Celestias room.
“Princess Celestia? What's wrong? Why did you teleport me here?” She asked, starting to her hooves as they clopped in the room. “Is Equestria in danger?”
“If only.” Celestia muttered. “I need you to meet with my sister, Luna, and help her with running Equestria for the next two weeks.” She held a wing, cutting off Twilight’s question before it could be voiced. “You’ll know why in a second.” She paused, closed her eyes, and teleported the two to the throne room. Twilight immediately saw Princess Luna and something else that completely confused her: Hammer Strike stood next to the throne wearing an expression other than the flat one she was so used to seeing. It unnerved her.
“Congratulations.” Hammer Strike said aloud. “Just. In. Time.” He said, frowning still. “As for why you are here, Twilight, I can’t answer that. Go ahead, Celestia. Tell your student why she is here.”
“I … may have neglected my martial training for an… extended period of time...” Celestia said.
“A thousand years.” Hammer Strike said bluntly.
“Yes.” She said, wincing. “So Lord Hammer Strike has decided to re-acquaint me with the great sword.” Celestia carried on. “For the next week.”
“Sword, hammer, mace, halberd, twinblade, spear, axe, and many more.” Hammer Strike corrected her.
“Yes.” She said dismally. “So I will need you to assist Luna with the extra duties until we’re finished.” Celestia finished weakly.
“Is now really the best time?” Twilight asked Celestia.
“My schedule just got cleared,” Celestia said. “Just trust me, Twilight.” Celestia lowered her tone “And pray for me.” she muttered near inaudibly.
“Praying won’t save you now.” Hammer Strike said aloud as he stood up. “Now move. We have years worth of training to do in a week!”
Celestia would have said more, but was not given the option as Hammer Strike pointed a hoof to the door and the two headed out of the room.
Twilight looked towards Luna, confused. “What just happened?” she asked.
“Celestia is grounded.” Luna answered plainly, leaving Twilight even more confused and more than a little scared.
Extended Holiday Chp 41: Seven Sweltering Nights of Searing Pain? Act 5: The Case
“Come now, it’s only day three!” Hammer Strike called out to Celestia.
Celestia huffed across from Hammer Strike. Her fur and mane were ragged, her body covered by obvious cuts and less obvious bruises. The bags under her eyes were large enough to carry groceries and she hadn’t eaten in the entire time they had been training. she opened her mouth to speak, but realizing expending the energy would be pointless, she shut it again.
In one fluid motion, the flat of Hammer Strike’s blade took her hooves out from under her. She hadn’t the time when she landed to move before the cold of the steel training sword sat against her throat. A small wave of shame rushed through her as a memory of her spars with Hammer Strike in her youth sprung to her mind. They hadn’t needed blunted swords back then.
“You lose. Forty-one to nothing.” Hammer Strike said, removing the blade from her throat. “You have two hours. Do as you want.”
“Yes…” Celestia huffed, getting to her hooves. She looked up to Hammer Strike’s expectant face and angrily choked out the words “Thank You… sir.”
“That was somewhat out of character,” Grif told Hammer Strike, approaching him with a piece of cake on a plate.
“She’s learning. That’s what matters.” Hammer Strike responded, sighing to himself as she walked away.
“Cake?” Grif offered. “You still need to eat, bad flank or no.”
“I probably should eat.” He said, turning towards Grif. “How’s it been around the castle?”
“Quiet.” Grif shrugged. “Most of the guards are spending their off hours here,” Grif noted, eying several armored ponies who had suddenly become very interested in a crack in a cobble stone. “The officials have had to postpone the trial since, you know-” He pointed to where celestia left. “You have the princess.”
“Guards are spending their off hours here?” Hammer Strike asked.
“You are sword fighting with the princess, and you are winning. Your legend was something, but alicorn strength is still formidable.”
“To think…” He looked at the training sword in his hooves. “We used to use real weapons.”
“But wasn’t this your first real fight?” Grif asked, a little confused.
“She’s getting better.”
“You sure you don’t need to lay down or something? Maybe relax for a bit? I mean, three days is a lot, even for you.”
“She is on break…” He shrugged. “Yeah, I’ll relax a little.”
Princess Celestia lay soaking in her bathtub, trying her best to let the heat take the pain of her sore muscles away. If she tried with magic, Hammer Strike would come down on her all the harder. She shuddered as she remembered her foalhood training. She had just immersed herself up to her ears to drown her worries when a quiet knock sounded at the door.
“Sister? Is it ok if I ask you some questions while you are in there?” Luna’s voice carried through the wooden doors.
“Yes, sister. What is it?” Celestia asked in return, water dripping from her muzzle and wings as she sat up in the tub. Her muscles screamed. She did not want to move out of the luxurious waters. Not yet anyway.
“Well, sister, first of all, we have to know. Is prince Blueblood’s weekly stipend really 60,000 bits, or has he been attempting to ‘pull my leg’ as the roos say these days?” Luna asked.
“You have access to the accounts. Just compare it to the last three stipends to create a history and deduce from there.” She smiled a little. “Hammer Strike wants you to learn how to rule. I see nothing wrong with giving you the tools I have had to deal with to learn as well. Thankfully, this will be over in a week and I shall give you anything you want to keep as your own oversight.”
“Thank you, sister.” The tone sounded pleased. “A package has also arrived from Gryphonia from emperor Daedalus, himself. It is addressed to Grif. We have had it checked and there appears to be no malicious magic surrounding it, nor does it appear to be a bomb or poisonous. Should we pass it on?”
“What do you think, Luna?” Celestia asked in her gentle teacher’s voice. “You dealt with the black tips and Gryphon feuds better than I have in the past.” She stared at the wall. “I lost my temper. You never did that against the enemy.” Outside in the hall, Luna’s ear twitched. Did she just hear a hint of respect in her sister’s voice?
“I would send it through the academy one final time to be sure,” She said, uncertainly, her hoof at her chin. “But Daedalus is not the sort for plots,” Luna noted, gradually working to her conclusion. “I’d say it will turn up safe.”
“Then go with your instincts here and pass it through to him.”
“Very well, sister.” Luna nodded. “What shall I tell the press regarding the delays of the trials?”
“Perhaps something along the lines that we have received new information that is being investigated,” Celestia replied.
“Very well, sister. Then I will leave you to your bath. Should I have something sent up for you?”
“Cake. And something to drink, please.” Celestia replied. “I haven’t had a thing to eat or drink since we’ve started.”
“I think there is still some angel food cake left,” Luna said, nodding.
“No, Luna. I know the chefs had a red velvet cake ready for me. I need chocolate.” celestia said as she melted once more into the bath water, moaning in relief as the warmth flowed into her flanks and sinews.
“Oh … a-about that cake,” Luna said as she chuckled nervously, slowly creaking the door open.
Seconds later, one name roared through the halls of Canterlot palace, shaking the very trees. “GRIF!”
Twilight sighed as she finished signing the last of the non-vital documents for the day. With Luna taking Princess Celestia’s place, Twilight had needed to take over both Celestia and Luna’s paperwork when it did not concern matters of higher priority. The majority of the paperwork focused on legalizing decisions made during court for the most part. She put the quill down as she stood up to stretch her muscles. The paperwork, thankfully, could wait. So she could work at her own pace.
“Begin!” Twilight’s right ear twitched as she heard the voice call out from one of the open windows.
Curious, she moved to look out said window, following the sound. Outside, she caught sight of Hammer Strike and Celestia facing off. A ring of guards and palace staff had surrounded the courtyard, spectating at the event. Some cheered, others gaped in open mouthed shock, and others still were passing bits between with shady smirks. She quickly deduced the voice most likely came from Hammer Strike as the two began to clash back and forth, moving around the arena in an intricate dance.
First they dashed, then they clanged, each thrusting and pushing, testing the other’s strength. Then they broke, sparks flying from their blades as they nicked one another before retreating, circling once again. They paused and eyed one another, gaging the determination to attack, trying to see into their opponent’s mind. Who would commit first? Would they go all out? Or would it merely be a feint? Then the pause was over and the dance began again. The music of steel on steel rang through the clearing while the clopping of hooves set the tempo. Each step, each move, was carefully calculated and executed in the blink of an eye. And while the moves wavered and shifted, the dance remained the same. Still, Hammer didn’t look worried. And often, rather than retreat, he simply waited, his eyes expectant.
The other dancer was far from well off as she clumsily shifted. Each blow she landed was blocked with little effort. Every strike shrieked as it collided with a wall of metal. It was like she was re-learning the steps, a rusty hinge in need of oil. And she was paying for it. Celestia’s sword was badly nicked, but worse still was her appearance as she huffed and puffed in the intermittent silence, her once flowing mane disheveled and gnarled. The beginning of dark circles and bags stood under her eyes and she shook and trembled where she stood, fighting the effects of fatigue and exhaustion.
“That would explain why Celestia never taught me that arcane blade spell Shining wanted me to learn,” Twilight said to herself as she watched in shock and awe. Her teacher’s skill with a blade had been the stuff of legend when she was younger. In a very literal sense, no pony had seen celestia fight in so long that only legends existed about it. But watching Hammer Strike fight her now was like watching a foal pretending to use a sword by flailing around with a stick. The match took little time before Hammer Strike had the princess on the ground, blunted sword at her neck.
When she had been younger, Twilight had always been enchanted with the idea of being a war magus. But celestia had never been one for teaching her combat magic. Sure, most magic could be used in combat, but Twilight remembered watching the battle magi practice when celestia would walk her through the college at the other end of canterlot. They always seemed so artful and elegant the way they wielded the elements of nature to fight.
“Loss. Fifty-seven to none,” she heard Hammer Strike say as he removed the training sword from Celestia’s neck.
Thinking back to recent times, the changeling invasion standing out, and now seeing her teacher having to relearn like this, it got twilight thinking about her own defence. Had she known any combat magic, perhaps they would have held out longer against the changelings. Turning back to the paperwork, she thought maybe it would be good to go to the college and pick up some basic combat tomes. It never hurts to be prepared, after all.
Grif waited as patiently as he could at the train station, talons tapping against the ground casually, albeit impatiently. He had sent Shrial a letter the other day requesting that she escort Rarity to Canterlot because the trial was likely to take longer than expected and he would like to start her training in the interim. He had also sent a letter to Rarity, but that was simply asking her to come to Canterlot.
He looked rather annoyed at the armored gryphon beside him. Despite Celestia’s protests, the Gryphonians had insisted one of their own guards come to “prevent his escape.” Grif chuckled. As if it would be possible for the one gryphon to stop him. He perked up visibly as he heard the train’s whistle in the distance. He could barely sit still as the train pulled up.
When the steam had finally settled, the doors opened and out filed the many ponies who had made the trip. Grif searched worriedly with his keen eyes when he could not see the two females. Finally, when the hustle and bustle died down, a single golden talon stepped into the sun. Her feathers shone like a phoenix flame, complimenting the flash of gold on Grif’s locket as it hung against her chest. Her look was determined as she scanned the area, making sure it was safe. Her eyes narrowed as she spotted the gryphon “escort” Grif had been given. Behind her, a confident looking pony strode out, her soft curves looking a little more toned. Her dazzling smile was still the same though. Grif couldn’t help but smirk and shake his head as she shook her purple mane. The sword lay strapped to her back with its sheath in tact. Various bottles and luggage levitated next to them in the grip of her magic.
“Well, of course I did, darling. There are some things a lady simply can’t be without. And there are a few projects that I’m working on that simply must be finished while I’m here. At least I haven’t asked you to carry anything.”
“Point taken.” Shrial said, groaning as she rolled her eyes. “Let’s just get to Grif already.” The two finally spotted Grif, smiled, and made their way toward the waiting pair. The gryphon guard’s beak dropped open as Shrial approached.
Grif paid the guard no mind as he walked over to her and smiled. “Well now, what’s this? A radiant lady such as yourself shouldn’t be out here all alone.” Grif tried his best to give her a dashing smile. “Perhaps you’re in need of a guide, my lady?”
Shrial looked at him, an eyebrow raised as she eyed the guard, then looked back to Grif. “Well, I suppose I could let you show me around. Though we do have a rather busy schedule. I’ve been commissioned to escort this pony here to her quarters in the castle. After all, she is a keeper of an element of harmony. Maybe after?” She asked, smiling slyly as she winked. “I have heard tell of an amazing new food that I have yet to try. I believe it is called … Pizza?”
“If it is pizza the lady wishes then it is pizza she will receive,” Grif said, bowing slightly and offering her a talon.
“Very well, I accept, my good sir. But let’s get Rarity to her quarters first, hmmm? Then you can tell me how that foolish trial of yours is doing.”
“It has been delayed. Princess celestia has needed an emergency course in remedial weapon play with Lord Hammer Strike,” Grif explained. “I’m sure my associate here can take your bags, Rarity. He wouldn’t want to insult an element of harmony in Canterlot, after all.” Grif grinned wickedly as he looked back and winked at the unicorn.
“And it is what any proper gentleman would do,” Shrial said, sealing the nail in the coffin as the guard stepped forward, perhaps a bit too eagerly. “I-if I may, my lady.” He said, standing on his hind legs as he waited for the load.
“Oh, why thank you, darling!” Rarity said as she set the bags in his arms, all fifteen at once. The guard hit the ground rather abruptly as he peeked his head around the corner, a rather helpless look in his eyes as his arms trembled. “Thank you for your assistance.” the unicorn said, levitating a rather large emerald into his pocket as she kept in step with Shrial and Taze. She showed him a winning smile and he gaped at the payment, not sure whether to feel happy at the sudden increase in wealth, or insulted that she would treat him like some common porter. He trailed helplessly behind, many a pony looking on him with pity. Rarity smiled wistfully as she turned to Grif. “So… am I to believe you two are closer than I remember seeing you last?” she asked.
Grif smiled and looked to shrial with a raised eyebrow. “I dunno. Is it?” he asked her.
“You know, I’m not really so sure. I think we’ll have to get back to you on that one, Rarity.” Grif gawked at her, open mouthed when his eyes caught something fluttering behind them. Then he smiled as a stiff but gentle breeze began blowing around them. Shrial yawned and stretched her legs, similar to a cat, her wings fully extended. “So sorry. That train compartment was far too stuffy for my tastes. Just needed to work out the kinks, so to speak.”
“So Rarity, have you been keeping that sword well maintained?” Grif asked, moving the conversation elsewhere as the three walked at a leisurely pace, the gryphon guard panting behind them under the mountain of suitcases.
Rarity had only just finished settling in and unpacking her sewing equipment when she finally noticed the annoying clang of metal on metal. “What in Equestria is that horrible clanging?” She fumed. Pulling the bell pull she waited for one of the servants to arrive at the quarters.
Five minutes later, the servant still had not arrived. “Ooooooh, that is It! Must I do everything myself around here?” She slammed the door open with her magic and slammed it shut once again, knocking it off one of its hinges as she tromped her way down the corridors. “Whoever is making that horrible racket is going to get it!” She stomped down the halls, following the noise until she heard a sound that stopped her dead in her tracks, the fury draining out of her like sand in a sieve.
“Begin!” The commanding voice boomed through the corridors, sounding loud and clear.
Rarity’s heart leaped with joy. “Hammer Strike!” She made her way as fast as she could, trying to isolate where the cry had come from. Racing down the halls, she came to a large backup of servants and guards standing by the entrance to the courtyard. “Well, that explains why no one came to answer my summons. It looks like the entire staff is here,” She said to herself as she tried to nudge her way through the crowd. “Excuse me, pardon me. Could you kindly let me-? Excuse me, could you-?” No pony paid attention, their eyes and ears lay riveted on whatever was happening in the courtyard. First she snorted, then she pouted, then she started to turn red, the flush gradually spreading from her cheeks to fill her face before steam blew from her ears. “Everybody Move!” She screamed, pushing servants and guards aside like bits of design paper as she muscled her way through with many a guard and servant eying her in shock and a bizarre mixture of dismay and annoyance. Rarity continued, heedless of their glares as she continued to plow through. Finally, she panted as she broke out of the crowd to the front, only for her jaw to drop.
Celestia huffed as she swung her hammer at Hammer Strike’s hooves, no longer focusing on anything but the pony in front of her, fatigue and hunger melting away into rage as she charged furiously into battle.
Hammer Strike had a small grin on his face as he casually dodged each of Celestia’s strikes before knocking her off her hooves and planting the hammer next to her head. “Loss. Fifteen to none.”
Rarity continued to gawk. “H-h-hammer Strike? Fighting Princess Celestia? What?” She continued to babble incoherently as she watched, her eyes wide.
“Go and get something to eat and rest. Three hours.” Hammer Strike said to Celestia as he helped her up. “That anger won’t help you if you go blind with it.”
Celestia glared at Hammer Strike as she panted. Without a word she got to her hooves and headed for the kitchen.
Hammer Strike sighed as he rolled his shoulders. “Decent hit.” He muttered to himself as he looked to the crowd before A flash of purple and a familiar perfume caught his eye and nose. “Ah, hello Rarity.” He called out as he walked towards her.
“H-hammer Strike, you … you spar with Celestia?” Rarity asked, still trying to comprehend the gravity of what she had witnessed.
“Someone has to re-teach her a thousand years of weapon training.” Hammer Strike commented.
“But … but … she’s an alicorn!”
“That doesn’t excuse her from training.”
“I think I need to sit down.” She said, practically hyperventilating. “Well … either that or maybe a walk in the open air.”
“Come.” Hammer Strike said, nodding his head in a direction. “I can explain more as we walk.”
“Please do. I am most thoroughly confused.” The crowd melted before the pair, parting like the red sea before the two ponies: one with the unconquerable strength, the other with an indomitable will. They both had left their marks on the staff recently and soon enough, there was not a soul to be seen save a few sentries on duty, whistling to themselves as they purposefully looked away. A light wind soon blew away the dust cloud that remained from the vast stampede of ponies darting out of sight as quickly as they could gallop. For such a large group, they were surprisingly silent. Hammer Strike just smirked before smiling gently at the mare as they walked the halls.
“Let’s see … Where to begin…? We had to come to Canterlot based off old war crimes that we are being accused of, I got my memories back, Celestia had disregarded practice for a thousand years, despite me telling her to continue in my absence-”
“Wait. You got your memories back? Why that’s wonderful!” Rarity smiled and spontaneously hugged the lord before she realized what she was doing. She blushed violently as she removed herself from him. “Oh, um …” She cleared her throat. “Sorry about that. I just got a little overexcited, I suppose. I hope you can forgive me.”
Hammer Strike chuckled. “I see nothing to forgive. You did nothing wrong. But yes, it is wonderful to remember everything again.”
“Then … well, I was wondering … would you mind joining me this evening for a stroll in the gardens?” Her cheeks flushed rose red as she looked down to the ground, scuffing a hoof absently.
“I would love to.” Hammer smiled.
Having eaten, Celestia returned to her room seeking nothing more than rest. As she moved to her bed she found a note waiting on the pillow. Raising an eyebrow curiously she brought the note up to read.
‘Celestia,
Your break has been extended by two or three hours.
Enjoy.
~Hammer Strike’
“Thank Mother!” Celestia sighed before slumping un-elegantly into bed. She was asleep before she hit the pillow.
Grif had managed, through a fair bit of begging, pleading, and offering favors, to get a reservation at a higher end, what Taze would call ‘Italian’ restaurant. But the term didn’t have any meaning in Equestria. The chef was one of the few used to serving carnivorous customers and was well known for a good deep dish pizza. He had managed to get a pony guard assigned to him after some rumor went around the gryphon temporary barracks that guarding Grif was a high energy no reward job with nothing but trouble waiting to happen. A couple had been bold enough to try at first, just to get a glimpse at Shrial, and she rather liked the attention. But that soon faded when the pair ganged up on them, hopelessly outsmarting the guards at every turn. It had given Grif and Shrial a good laugh and the empire’s egos a good spanking.
For once, Grif was out of his armor, wearing a more traditional style suit Rarity had ecstatically made at the Gryphon’s request. His feathers were preened and oiled and even his crest had been slicked back. Taking a deep breath he knocked on the door to Shrial’s room. His pony guard waited at a distance where the halls intersected. He nodded to Grif before looking down another hall, his brow raised inquisitively as the Gryphon turned back to the door again.
Shrial stood garbed in a stunning shimmering ocean blue dress. Its wing holes had been specifically tailored to her measurements and her tail was still allowed enough freedom to sway around if needed. A small amount of eyeshadow covered her lids, accenting the blue of the dress and bringing out the red in her feathers. The overall effect was stunning, giving the impression of stars shining in an evening sky at sunset. She looked a little shyly at the Gryphon. “I um … I was told that this is a … traditional thing to wear at a formal event.”
“I… uh… just… wow.” Grif clumsily tried to find the right words as he looked at her.
“Is it too much?” Shrial asked, worriedly. “I wanted to be able to fit this time period properly, but … well I just wasn’t sure. Rarity said this would work best and-”
Grif walked up to her, quickly closing the gap as he brought his beak to hers and kissed her. He pulled back after a few moments. “You’re spellbinding.”
Shrial blushed violently at the compliment. “And … are you comfortable wearing such a formal garb? I never saw you much as the formal type.”
“My father, er… Taze’s father, always said that sometimes it was worth it to spruce up every now and then for a special lady.” Grif said before pausing, looking at her confusedly. “What? Do I look silly or something?”
“On the contrary. You look very dashing.” Shrial caressed his head feathers before moving in to peck him on the cheek with another kiss. “You remind me of my father when he was requested at the Emperor's ball. I was only a hatchling then, of course, but still. You just look …” She sighed. “Forgive me, but I think I’ll keep the rest to myself. We have to get moving if we are going to make that reservation of yours.”
He nodded. “Follow me. The guard already said he’d keep an eye from afar to give us our privacy,” Grif assured her.
“I think I’m going to enjoy this.” Shrial purred as she played a talon along the chest of Grif’s suit. “Lead the way, Sir Grif. I’m all yours tonight.”
The walk was short, but tonight, Grif preferred it to flying. Luna had worked hard and the moon and stars shone down on them as bright as diamonds in a sea of glass. Casually, Grif unfolded his wings and stretched them before attempting to lay one across her back.
Shrial smirked to herself as Taze lay his wing over hers. A little bold, perhaps, but Grif was never one for subtlety. “You know, I don’t think I could ask for a better night than this. The air is just right, the sky is gorgeous, the company … is passable.”
“What?!” Shrial burst into giggles as Grif’s wing flew off her back, his mouth gaping once again. “Oh, come on, Grif. We both know that we like one another. Can’t you take just a little joke?”
Grif grabbed his heart suddenly, his expression one of deepest sorrow. “Oh, my lady hast wounded my heart. I can no longer go on. Adieu, adieu sweet world made bitter by treachery so foul from love most dear.” He fell to the ground dramatically.
.
Shrial burst into yet another fit of laughter, mirthful tears streaming down her cheeks. “Come on, you big ham. Let’s get something to eat.” She reached down with a taloned hand to pull Grif up. “You know, Rarity is going to kill you for getting that suit so dirty.”
Grif had the largest grin as they finished their walk to the restaurant, that beautiful laugh ringing in his ears like a crystal bell. In short order they were shown to their table and ordered their drinks. An orange stallion with a large white mustache and a matching ten gallon hat sat staring at a graceful pegasus filly, bedecked in jewels. At another table, a purple mare sat demurely in her purple and pink dress, her mane styled in a bun to accent her horn. Two pearl earrings hung from her ears, jingling with their tiny clappers as they suspended from adjoining metal hoops. A sporting tennis player with a wild rainbow mane sat across from her, wearing a pair of angled glasses as she slouched in her chair, tapping a hoof impatiently against the table. The waiter at their table had a floofy pink mane. A slim mustache curled on either side of “his” face as “he” took their order, recommending various pizzas, leaning heavily on the desserts and sweets.
“So, you never told me about your family life. Any siblings I stole you from? A mother?” Grif asked.
“No. I’m afraid I’m an only child. Father said an assassin came in the night and killed my mother with a poisoned dagger. She fought back and won, but when he had been dispatched, she was already in fits. The death was a slow and painful one and I had only recently been born. I think that is perhaps one reason why my father was so hard on me. He swore he would never marry or mate with another as long as he lived. But now he had no son to be his heir. You can imagine how hard a blow that was to bear.”
“I’m sorry. That must have been a tough topic. Thank you for trusting me with the information, though. He must have loved your mother very much.”
“Loved her and got his revenge. The diamond dog responsible was soon found dead and disembowelled the next week. Let’s just say his new decorations were rather … bloodier than his servants had anticipated.”
“Is there anyone diamond dogs get along with?” Grif asked. “At war with us, at war with ponies, at war with minotaurs, you’d figure they’d get along with someone.” He scanned the menu. “Any favorites for meat?”
“Not really. I didn’t have the chance to sample many, other than … well, you know.” She said, looking down in shame. The rations in the military weren’t exactly the same as what lay here and aside from that, all she had known or eaten before was pony meat, or what grif had hunted for them during the war.
“Ok. Have you ever tried fish? I know that’s popular in the empire at times,” Grif asked, swiftly moving to change the subject.
“I tried it only once before my father forbade it. He was very traditional. What would you recommend?”
“Pepperoni and bacon. With extra cheese and fresh garlic. I think you’ll enjoy it.” He smiled as the waiter brought their drinks and he made the order. His accent was a little strange and the way he skipped back to the kitchens was vaguely familiar with his curly tail bouncing behind.
“Now, I believe it’s your turn for a question,” Grif offered.
“Alright. You said there was something special about this.” Shrial said, reaching down her dress and pulling out the locket. “What?”
“Flick the little piece at the top down carefully.” When she did, the bottom came down and three smaller pieces flicked out, one from the top and two from the bottom. Inside she was met with an astoundingly accurate set of miniature paintings depicting what she assumed were humans. All seemed older than taze had been when she saw him and four were easily male. One, however, was harder to identify. The face seemed softer with much longer head fur.
“Those are my, or rather, our family. Mine and Taze’s from his world. Well, not all of our family, but his grandfather, father, uncles, and his grandmother. It reminds us that your heart will always be home and it is the closest object we have,” grif explained. “The top and bottom most people are dead already and this is the closest memory Taze has of them.” A few tears snuck past Grif’s eyes as he spoke. “It is our heart. And with you holding on to it, we feel more complete.”
Shrial sat there quietly as she contemplated his words. “And you entrusted this to me. In a war zone. Tell me, Grif. When was it that you started to trust me? Or at least to respect me?” The question was a little unexpected, but not unwarranted.
“You gained my respect when you didn’t give up on yourself after that first week of training.” Grif Replied. “You gained my trust when you helped me find Hammer Strike.” He looked into her eyes. “And you stole my heart when you smacked me across the face that day.” He laughed.
“And you … really mean that?” Shrial asked, peering into his eyes, despite her embarrassment at the memory.
“As much as I possibly can,” he said. “And that’s what the secret of that locket is.”
Shrial pondered this as she ate her pizza. Her eyes widened at the flavors of the sauce layered with the meats and cheeses. “This … this is delicious!”
“Food has definitely improved since the Third Gryphon War.” Grif nodded. “Remind me to take you for donuts before we leave Canterlot.” He smiled, biting into his own slice. The garlic topping complimented the exquisite creation beautifully.
The two finished the pizza in no time and were soon off walking in the moonlight again. Later, the real waiter on duty would faint from the tip of three large rubies, ten golden beaks, and the twelve bits the pizza had cost. At last they found a cozy little spot by a lake in the park. The moon shone down, illuminating the water’s surface, turning it silver. The two walked, their wings interlocked over each other’s backs as they strolled along. Shrial leaned in and whispered conspiratorially to her companion. “You know we’ve been under surveillance since we left my room, right?”
Grif answered back in Phrench “Oh, I’ve always known. But we can get after them later. Why ruin the moment?”
“Good point.” She replied. “But how about we take this to a place a little more private?” She asked, motioning to a cloud above their heads. “I think the view would be much better from up there, don’t you?” She asked, winking.
Grif nodded as he took to the air. In short order he settled down on the cloud, breathing in the crisp mountain air. “Better?” he asked as she joined him.
“This answer your question?” She asked as she moved in, digging her talons into his suit as she kissed him. She didn’t care if it ruined the material. The moon shone brightly behind them and the cloud beneath them suddenly shifted to form a new shape, the shadow it cast below revealing a heart on the astonished pony guard below. A cloud puffed in the distance, a small rainbow streak trailing behind. Below, four bushes rustled as pony heads peeked out, one with a ten gallon hat on her head, one with a wild poofy mane, and the third stared up with big, shimmering eyes as she held the cloud in her gaze. The purple unicorn’s horn glowed dimly as she smiled up at the cloud, tears brimming in her eyes as she looked to the stars.
Grif said nothing. He just returned the kiss as the moon seemed to shine even brighter at the scene. The blue in his eyes adjusted unseen, the two shades nearly identical and swirling peacefully as the pair lay down together, their silhouettes facing the moon. Slowly their tails rose together, touching in place to shape yet another heart. Shrial sighed as she lay her head against Grif’s shoulder.
Far off from the castle, Luna’s horn glowed brightly as she watched. It had become quite a shock to her to find that the night had become a time for, amongst other things, love, in so many forms that it boggled even her mind. Even as celestia and Hammer Strike fought in the courtyard, she couldn’t help but grin as she turned away, silently wishing Grif and Shrial a good night as well as any others who may be out expressing their love beneath the Moon’s embrace.
“... So you see, Lord Hammer Strike, we all fell to Discord and his nasty tricks for a time. Fortunately, Twilight kept her head and brought us back to reality. After that, we had to rope Rainbow Dash in and change her back. And well, the rest is history. We turned Discord back to stone and all was right as rain.” She smiled, having finished describing the rest of her previous adventures with the element holders and Discord. “Now, I simply must know what happened to you and the others.”
“A lot happened. Any specific topics in mind?” Hammer Strike asked.
“Is it true that you almost singlehandedly kept Fillydelphia from falling? How did you do it? And what did you do to occupy all that time while you waited to find Grif and Pensword? Oh, I have so much I want to know. But I suppose this will suffice for a beginning.” She stopped to smell a particularly beautiful flower as it bloomed in the sunset. “The twilight rose. It’s positively one of the most heavenly flowers a girl can dream of.” She sighed wistfully before turning back to Hammer Strike. “So sorry.” She said blushing. “Here I was asking you a question about your history and all of I sudden I break off before you can even respond.”
Hammer Strike grinned. “Let’s see. I didn’t hold Fillydelphia by myself. The guard were there along with Lunar Fang and the Thestrals.” He started, thinking back on it. “I worked alongside them and my apprentices in the town. We worked on armor and weaponry for the entirety of the town, or at least the guard, as soon as we possibly could. With the gryphon army on its way it was quite the tall order. Once that was accomplished, I worked with Lunar Fang and the Thestrals to defend against attack and to build up barricades for a hasty defense. I only helped with some of the fighting though. A duel or two popped up from gryphons that I happily accepted.”
Rarity took a sharp intake of breath. “You fought in an actual duel? How romantic! It’s just like in the story books. The battle must have been stunning! Oh how I wish I could have been there to see it. I would have loved to review your armor designs. Oh, but how I do go on. Please, tell me, what happened at the duel?”
Hammer Strike paused for a moment. “It wasn’t a long duel, ten minutes I think. It wasn’t a very... clean duel, as it was to the death.”
“You must have bloodied yourself terribly.” She said, frowning. “I hope they had good physicians to take care of you. They better have.” She pouted.
“They only got one hit off, and the best it did was cut my coat.” He responded with a shrug. “But they had some decent medical care back then. Not up to par with how it is now though...”
“And those scars. Did you get those in battle too?”
“No…” He replied, an unsure look on his face.
Rarity looked into those eyes and could see the walls coming up. “Oh, you poor dear.” She said, tears filling her eyes as she lay a hoof on his shoulder.
“In those thirty seven years there were some struggles.” He said after a moment.
“Do you need someone to talk to about it?” She asked as they stood on the gravel path through the hedges.
“Another time.” He shook his head. “Some of the things that happened… Not yet.”
Rarity nodded her head. “I understand. Do you just want to enjoy the scenery for a while? Or maybe you have some questions for me?”
“I can answer more of your questions.” He responded.
“Are you sure, deary? I don’t want to push you.”
“It’s fine. Go right ahead.”
Rarity stared at him, caught between her worry and her curiosity. Finally, she decided it would be best to satisfy both by honoring his wishes. “What were Celestia and Luna like back then?”
“Celestia was certainly different than she is now.” Hammer gave a light chuckle. “She was more practiced with weaponry. Used to have a bit more of a temper. Used the ‘Royal Canterlot Voice’ quite a few times.” He chuckled a little more. “Both Luna and Celestia did, honestly. Nearly blew my eardrums out.”
“Oh dear. Luna is still trying to break that habit. She has gotten much better though.”
“I noticed.” He grinned. “Luna had more… entertainment in the past. Duels, practices, stuff like that. Might have to start practice with both of them again…” He thought aloud.
“Well, if she enjoyed it a thousand years ago, I’m certain she still will today. She did only come back recently, after all.”
“I’ll have to talk to her about that. What other questions have you got?”
“Hmmmm … Well, how about you tell me about yourself? What do you like to do most? What makes Lord Hammer Strike tick?” She asked, a mischievous smile on her muzzle.
Hammer Strike paused as he thought. “Uhh… Create stuff, draw designs for equipment, weapons, tools... “ He shrugged.
“And if you could have anything you wanted in the world, but could only wish for one thing, what would it be?”
“...I couldn’t answer that right away.” He responded.
“I … suppose it is a rather difficult one to answer, isn’t it?” Rarity said, blushing as she looked up at the stars. “They’re beautiful tonight, aren’t they? They shine so brightly. Like diamonds.”
Hammer Strike nodded, agreeing with her. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, the two edged towards one another, the space between them practically electric as their flanks nearly touched while they gazed into the infinite heavens.
Pensword watched from a stone covered arch where he had taken shelter from the elements as he gazed on the empty courtyard shaking his head in disbelief. He could see flags hanging from the windows created by the covered walkway around the courtyard. What surprised him was the fact that in the last few days they had added Hammer Strike’s house flag. He had an idea this was showcasing important houses in Equestrian politics. “You,” He started before pausing. “Dear Celestia.” He muttered, something he picked up as pure Pensword. “I knew Lord Hammer Strike was able to get away with things, but grounding one of the rulers of Equestria?” He took a deep breath and held it for a time before releasing it while closing his eyes. “Does he not know he has set back the Thestral meetings by a week or more?” He asked the empty air, shaking his head ruefully. “Same as home.” He turned around to walk back inside. “Always get my plans in order and someone comes by and drops their needs on me to make my plans to shatter.” He paused and blinked back tears. “Not true. That was how it felt, just not the reality.” He slowly dragged his hooves as he moved towards the doors, this time marveling in how it was Matthew who spoke aloud more often than Pensword ever did.
“Pensword? What’s wrong?” Lunar Fang, also known as Moonshade came to her husband’s side, laying a leather wing over his back.
“Homesickness, worry over my family, trouble with the gryphons letting Luna take us to re-meet with the Thestrals, let alone the fact that any plans High Chieftess had have been pushed back for Hammer Strike’s need to deal with Celestia. Surely he can or could have dealt with this a little easier and not pushed back the trial any.” A frown creased his muzzle. “The longer we stay in Canterlot, the more I worry about nobles getting their horns into my affairs.” He sighed. “Still, how is your day, dear?” She could tell Matthew was a little more in charge today.
“The baby is getting a little more active.” Lunar Fang smiled weakly. “Honestly, sometimes I think it’s practicing parade exercises in there the way it moves so. You really should think more on that and less on your worries. Everything will turn out just fine. It always does. You just need to be patient.” She nuzzled her mate.
He returned her nuzzle and smiled as he breathed. Her scent mingled with his. “I try to be. I just, before all this, before living as Pensword, I worried. I could not help it. I worried about my health, or my family, or my income, or paying my bills for health insurance, or the bills from surgeries. I grew up worrying about things folks twice my age never have to worry about.” He paused. “Heck, what I went through in the past I doubt anyone would have had to worry about back home.” He shook his head. “Dear, I am just in a melancholy mood today. I do not know know why, I just am. And when I get like that, I worry about the future, even though I know we are in good hooves and we need not worry or fear. I, I just do.” he wrapped his wings around her and placed his forehead to hers as he closed his eyes. “I worried about you on the battlefield even with the guards protecting you. I worried for your health and safety on the battlefield.” He paused. “I worried more about my men than my own life.” He looked back out at the empty courtyard. His eyes showed gears turning and thoughts moving about his head as they flitted around the courtyard. “I am wondering if you would like to join me for a little bit of our weapon paces back in our room. Keep the muscle memory in tact.”
“I think I can do that for a little longer.” Lunar Fang smiled. “Commander. Come on. I look forward to seeing how you have improved.”
Pensword smiled and the two walked side by side back into the castle. No words were spoken. Nothing needed to be said as they rubbed against one another. The ponies paused as they watched the sun lower and the moon rise. They kissed in a shaft of moonlight, then entered the castle.
Two minutes passed away in the courtyard before the sound of a door opening reached Hammer Strike’s ears, the jingling of armor prompting him to smirk. Out marched Princess Celestia. This time, she wore armor that had been forged recently. Turning around, Hammer Strike could easily tell it was not meant for Celestia. The tell tale blueish tint hinted at Luna’s handiwork. Paired with the rather gothic style of the design and the hasty alterations, Hammer was certain the armor had originally been forged for Luna, most likely for ceremonies. However, Luna always made her armor fit for battle, ceremonial or no. It was rather smart of the alicorn to remember her sister’s habits and make use of them. Although the armor looked crude, it glinted in the torchlight, covering almost every part of her body. Still, the alterations were unfinished. Straps glowed and cinched as they held, the leather magically bound together from various scraps she had found around the workshop, blending in a mix of brown, red, black, and blue. She had even thought to make a visor. Said visor currently stood open, revealing a fiery gaze as she glared at her opponent. Hammer strike smiled as the crowd of guards parted like the Red Sea before her. Her hoofs sparked as they hit the heavy stones of the courtyard, echoing like gunshots as they clattered to the sky. She looked around the courtyard as if seeing it for the first time.
Hammer Strike walked out of the shadows a moment later, letting her have her moment to psych herself up. Raising a brow he looked to his pocket watch before shrugging. “A few minutes early.”
“Preferable to being a few minutes late.” Celestia shot back.
“Enjoy your extra free time?” He questioned, putting his pocket watch away.
“I made use of it.”
“I can see that.” Hammer Strike’s eyes shifted to the armor once again. “Good. I get to hold back less now.” He grinned.
“You’d better.” Celestia responded as her magic lit up. Something slid out from behind her and into view. The greatsword was familiar, nearly four feet of heavily polished steel and recently, Hammer Strike noted, sharpened to a keen edge. The cross hilt resembled that of the sun that was celestias cutiemark with rays of heat stretching out in all directions. She leveled the blade at him as her hooves slid into a stance, weight shifting to her right side with her left foreleg out in front of her. “It’s time we finish this.”
“Ah, and here I am unprepared.” Hammer Strike smirked. “I’ll stick with a hammer, then.” He said, lifting said Great Hammer onto his back.
“If that’s what you call it.” Celestia shot back. “I thought you’d borrowed one of the mallets from the carpenter.”
Hammer Strike only shrugged in response, his calm demeanor unaffected by her insult. Celestia charged forward, this time, however, her charge was faster, more direct. Fire burned behind the princess as she beelined for Hammer Strike. She moved to strike and Hammer moved to block only for the solar princess to vanish in a flash of white light as he felt the pommel of her sword hit him in the side. The earth pony smirked as the stinging pain of the hit rang through his body. He turned on her, carrying the momentum of the blow with the momentum of the hammer. The sword came to block only for the flat to dig into the alicorn’s side.
Celestia snorted steam as she came at Hammer Strike with a barrage of blows. He managed to ward off most of them, though one or two glanced back, leaving cuts across his fur. Hammer Strike threw off her balance when he deflected the sword with the head of the hammer before advancing with three sweeping blows. Celestia’s armor took the impact, but two plates were heavily dented and a third was totally shattered, its shards littering the floor.
Spreading her wings, Celestia flipped over Hammer Strike with an agility a creature of her size shouldn’t posses. Then she struck with an arcing slash, leaving a large gash in Hammer Strike’s coat and the armor beneath it. Hammer Strike caught her by surprise as he threw the hammer behind him before turning around. The massive weapon struck the princess in the chest, stunning her momentarily and shattering the chest plate. Now only one plate remained.
Before Hammer Strike could capitalize, however, celestia advanced again, this time with a series of rapid strikes on the flat of the blade. Without his hammer in hoof, the earth pony took three hits before he caught the blade in his hooves and wrenched it to the side. They locked eyes, then both parties sprinted for their weapons. There was a loud crash and sparks flew as they met again. Celestia’s aura blazed white as Hammer Strike calmly held her back.
Celestia smirked cockily as she pushed more weight into her sword. The blade bit through the hammer’s handle with a satisfying crunch. Blindingly, she slashed 6 more times, leaving the weapon dismantled on the ground, a single head amongst pieces of what had once been the shaft. The solar princess grinned as she placed the tip of the sword a few inches from Hammer Strike’s neck. “Yield,” she panted.
Hammer Strike stared into her eyes, unreadable for a few minutes, letting ponies watch the scene curiously. Had celestia finally brought the mighty Lord Hammer Strike down?
Then in quick succession the pony knocked the blade aside with his hoof and delivered two quick shots to celestia’s chest, sending her sliding along the ground a good three feet away. Sparks flew from her last plate of armor, shielding her flank from what otherwise would have led to a terrible rash.
“Good enough.” Hammer strike said, relaxing his pose as Celestia rose to her hooves.
“You said… thats never enough?” celestia huffed trying to get the wind back in her lungs.
“It would take too long to be perfect, and perfection is impossible.” He replied, stretching his neck. “You did well, I’ll give you that. Better than you started. Should you keep practicing with either Luna or myself, you’ll do fine against attacks.” He sighed. “That’s what matters.”
Celestia only panted as she levitated her sword and checked it carefully for dents or scratches before placing it back on her back and returning it to its sheath. The light seemed to melt around the blade, causing it to vanish from view. she nodded her head to Hammer Strike respectfully. “Thanks for setting me straight,” she said.
“Hopefully you’ll remember it this time.” He said, chuckling as he shrugged.
“I’d rather not have another reminder,” celestia noted.
“Well. You’re free to go rest or go back to work, but I have a feeling you know why I said two weeks.” He finished.
“Yes, I do.” she nodded and slowly trotted off.
The courtroom was buzzing from the many conversations as the few ponies who liked to watch court proceedings waited with baited breath. A few were the casual onlooker, but for the most part, it appeared that interns and lawyers in training sat, waiting to study the next case. They were most likely students from the academy nearby. It seemed that a file had been misplaced and so the room was being docketed for a rogue chariot incident. While the real incident was being settled out of court, Celestia and Luna had decided it would be best to use it to cover the war trial about to begin. After convening with the various diplomats and debating for several hours on the specifics, the two sides agreed. A few of the royal reporters were just sitting for a chance to relax and get a few paid hours of listening to the hum drum of events. Not a single Pony suspected what was to come. The court grew still and silent as a group of ponies and Gryphons entered the room. The silence was not to last as the ponies debated what these nobles and guards could be doing here with the gryphons. Could this accident have had something to do with the actions of a noble? A gossip columnist let out a gleeful squee as she rapidly began taking notes, running her pencil ragged as she chewed it to sharpness again. There was Fancy Whooves, and Lord Blueblood and his son. Oh this would be so rich! Other reporters suddenly flashed to life, handing notes to the children next to them. Whispering excitedly, the foals rushed out the courthouse like their lives depended on it. So much for keeping the proceedings a secret.
Seated at the bench aside from Celestia herself, a large grey gryphoness sat at Celestia’s right. To her left, a male unicorn with a similar old grey mane and coat also sat. He gave a brief nod to the gryphoness which was returned in kind. Both wore the black robes of a juror. Luna had been declared unfit to be involved in the proceedings due to her connection to the thestrals. This had been one of the fiercely debated topics, but ultimately, the crown gave way to the request. Celestia sighed, missing her sister as she looked on the empty pews. At least this session would not be filled with spectators. The three judges waited patiently for the accused to be brought into the courtroom.
The doors opened and the room went silent again as they realized that this was not the trial they had been led to believe would be taking place. Many heads turned as in marched the three heroes of legend. Hammer Strike was flanked on either side by his two closest friends: Grif on the left and Pensword on the right. Behind them, a light pony guard followed, dressed in their finest uniforms. An equally large escort of gryphons took up the rear, glaring daggers at the three.
Grif held his head proudly as he marched into the room in full battle armor, his thin blades on his back. His body clanked loudly, revealing that despite the best efforts of the guards he had not been disarmed for the trial. He took his seat at the accused bench with as much poise as he could muster.
After Grif and some guards that had detached from the main group behind, Pensword came marching to the defendant’s table. He was dressed in a modern dress uniform he had taken with him from the war. Attached to his chest, polished medals and sashes hung gleaming in the sunlight, rewards and honors for his services from different parts of his campaigns. A stalk of sugar cane hung from his mouth, partially chewed as he eyed those present. He stood in front of his seat, removed a sword and sheath from his side, and placed them in front of him. Then he sat down, gazing calmly and cooly where the three judges now sat waiting for Hammer Strike to take his place. Lunar Fang sat in the first pew directly behind the accused, wearing the same dress uniform complete with medals and sashes. Her look was determined. Her mate would not stand alone. Flanking her on either side, the Gryphon Slayers stood determined, their eyes shifting back and forth before locking on the Gryphonian warriors. For some unexplainable reason, the creatures shuddered, looking a little less certain of themselves.
Next, Hammer Strike strode to the bench, as he was supposed to. He wore his usual white dress shirt and a dark blue vest. He seemed bored, but that was only to be expected given his typical expression. It seemed all that Hammer Strike could ever look was bored, disinterested, and on the occasional rare moment, amused. He looked calmly on those gathered and to the judges, nodding before he sat behind the table, joining his friends. He slowly pulled a sword out from his belt and laid it on the table with Pensword’s and Grif’s.
Lastly, Phoenix Roost followed behind them, confused and embarrassed for his clients’ who shall not be named refusal to not carry weapons into the courtroom.
On the other side of the table a large grey furred gryphon with an oddly shaped crest stood, wearing a maroon suit jacket with a black undervest and an ascot. He stood with an emotionless, somewhat bored expression on his face.
“Miles?” Phoenix asked, somewhat nervously.
“... Mr.Roost” the gryphon responded in a monotone as he stared the pony down.
The bailiff, a unicorn guard, rose as the three judges sat in unison. Celestia banged he hoof on a large metallic object ringed in runes. The sound rang through the courtroom, silencing the onlookers and spectators. “This trial for the war crimes supposedly committed by Commander Pensword, Lord Hammer Strike and Grif Bladefeather is now in session.” he spoke before stepping back. Celestia nodded to him.
“Thank you, bailiff,” she said.
“Before we begin your honors, the prosecution objects to the defendants being armed. This is a trial, not a war party,” Miles said.
“Be that as it may,” celestia said. “The prosecution will remember the accused are amongst equestria's most dangerous. Should they have decided to react violently, the presence of their weapons is merely an after thought. I trust there will be no violent outbursts from them, unless the prosecution would like to attempt to disarm the accused himself?” celestia asked.
“...” Miles said nothing, looking over as Grif casually sharpened his talons on a wet stone. “Very well.” He sighed in resignation.
“Then you may begin your opening statement, prosecutor.” Celestia said, nodding her head.
“Thank you, your honors.” Miles said, standing and turning to address the court as well as the three judges who presided. “1000 years ago, your honors, Gryphonia and Equestria became embroiled in one of the fiercest wars our nations have known in a very long time. Possibly in the history of our respective realms. Many died on both sides. However, these three creatures before you were responsible for attacking before that war even began. These three are the slaughterers of well over a hundred gryphon lives prior to this war’s beginning.” The gryphon looked at them “and the prosecution will see them brought to justice.
“Your honors, the imperial court seeks nothing more than a formal recognition of these crimes and the appropriate punishments befitting them. In this case, the prosecution will prove beyond doubt that Commander Pensword of the Equestrian Army committed these heinous crimes before the war. We will prove that he was in the location history states, and that he attacked these gryphons without proper provocation. We will further testify that Hammer Strike mercilessly killed an entire armed garrison, many of whom were simply placed at the wrong fort at the wrong time. Lastly, we shall prove that Grif, son of Graf, deliberately hunted and sought after Gryphon lives who were simply performing their military duty at the instructions of their superiors, on a deliberate vendetta for Commander Pensword, killing each in dishonorable combat.” Miles looked coolly at the defendants as a collective gasp of shock echoed through the courtroom mingled with cries of outrage. The reporters scribbled furiously on their notepads, eyes riveted on the defendants and their prosecutor.
“Order in the court!” Celestia shouted as she banged the gavel. The room continued to ring with the murmurs and cries of the ponies, the empty space only amplifying the ruckus. Celestia sighed, then she opened her eyes, light blazing. “SILENCE!” The deafening cry broke the windows and all stood still, the reporters’ pads blown askew as the papers went flying out the windows. More than a few ponies turned their heads in shock. None had ever heard the royal Canterlot voice used by the princess. Her younger sister, certainly, but Celestia? Never. The local guards formed up around the courtroom entrance as curious ponies began to come to the scene. Whatever hope they had of keeping this quiet was dashed.
Miles turned back to the judges, his eyes a little wide, but aside from that, he betrayed no sense of surprise or shock. “The penalties the prosecution proposes are as follows: First, the court martialing and stripping of ranks, titles, and honors from Commander Pensword for Crimes against Gryphon-kind. Secondly, the surrender of Grif, son of Graf to the custody of the Gryphonian Empire to face justice in accordance to the ancient laws of the Empire at the time of his betrayal. Thirdly, the prosecution seeks the banishment of Lord Hammer Strike and monetary compensation to the families of those who lost their loved ones so many years ago. This is our intent.” With that, the gryphon stood down, allowing Phoenix to take his stand and give his opening statement.
Phoenix Roost cleared his throat. “Your honors, it is the intent of the defense to prove without a doubt that all gryphon killings were indeed properly provoked with just cause for commander pensword to respond as he did. We will establish motive, time, place, and will use key character witnesses to establish the truthfulness of what the accused will say, along with authenticated military records and testimonials. We will also present evidence proving that Grif Bladefeather is not, nor ever was a citizen within the empire’s scope of influence. And while he stands ready to accept the charges laid against him, the defense will prove his punishment can only be determined by Lord Hammer Strike.
“As for lord Hammer Strike himself, the defense will prove that he killed no Gryphon before the war without any such actively seeking his immediate death or the death of those whom he serves. The only crime these three brave souls can truly be tried for is their utmost devotion to justice for Equestria and for all intelligent life. The defense will seek a dismissal of all charges and intends to prove, beyond a shadow of a doubt, the innocence and/or justification behind each act performed by these individuals, or else prove that the Gryphons have no authority or claim to their lives, nor their punishments, should they be deemed necessary in these proceedings.”
“Very Well,” Celestia said. “Is the prosecution ready to proceed?”
“We are, your honor,” Miles highworth said, his voice somewhat bored.
“Is the defense ready to proceed?”
“We are, your honor,” Phoenix said, leaning his forelegs on the bench and standing up.
“Then let it begin. Mister Highworth, you may call your first witness.”
“The prosecution calls Grif Bladefeather to the stand.” miles said.
Grif looked at the group with a raised brow.
“Very well. Grif, please take the stand,” Celestia said.
Grif moved to the stand looking somewhat confused. The guard fixed him with a solemn stare, a gryphon mimicking the same as he stood by. “Do you swear to tell the truth the whole truth and nothing but the truth, Faust help you?”
“Sure,” the gryphon said.
“So, Son of Graf.” Miles Highworth looked at Grif. “You say you were born in the Northern Isles, correct?”
“Well yeah, I grew up there and everything,” Grif said.
“Really? Mr.grif, was it true Graf’s name used to be graff with two ‘f’’s? You understand I am referring to the extra ‘f’ that stood for his being part of the farflyer clan?” the gryphon asked.
“yes…” grif said
“Isn’t it also true that graf was forced to give up his family name near the end of his life?” Miles asked again.
“OBJECTION!” Pheonix yelled loud enough that every pony in the room had to grab their ears. It practically rivaled the Canterlot voice ... almost. “Relevance, your honor?”
“I assure you, your honor, it will make sense soon,” Miles responded.
“Very well. But you’d better hurry up, Mr.Highworth.” Celestia said as she turrned to face Phoenix. As for you, Mr. Roost, the court would much appreciate it if you could tone down your objections to a less irritating level. Witness, if you would please answer the question.”
“Yeah,” grif nodded the affirmative. “What’s your point?”
“Why was he forced to do this?” miles asked
“because… he adopted a foundling.” Grif began to see the logic leap here.
“And that foundling was?” miles asked
“...me” Grif said.
“So then, you never knew your parents. And if reports are accurate, no one knows where you came from?” Miles asked.
“You are trying to imply that a baby flew all the way from Gryphonia to the Northern Isles? Isn’t that just a bit unlikely?” Grif raised an eyebrow.
“There were many ships that sank in that sea during that time period,” Miles noted. “Including the merchant vessel that crashed into the rocks outside the aisles on the exact night you were found. In fact, it crashed right next to that very island. And with the winds being what they where, it’s hardly crazy to assume a smaller cub like yourself was swept away and ended up on land.
“Your honors, the prosecution presents the crash report, or rather, a historically accurate reconstitution of the original documents aboard the S.S. Steelwing: a merchant ship that was traveling to the Isles, but sadly sank the night that Graf found Grif. The court will also note, we also have a magically restored letter from one Evelyne Crooner to be mailed at the next port to one Tabatha Crooner within the lower Fifth Kingdom of Gryphonia. In the letter, the gryphoness in question describes her cub to have been getting his coloring as his primaries and secondaries were coming in. At this particular point in the letter she notes the strange blackness of his feathers save for the green vest on his chest.” Miles presented the documents to Celestia, who inspected them before passing them to the other judges. “The prosecution submits these documents as exhibits A and B in this investigation.”
“Does the defense have any objections to this?”
“No, your honor, the defense does not.” Phoenix said, gritting his teeth.
“No further questions, Your Honors.” Miles Highworth took his seat arrogantly.
“Mister Roost, do you wish to cross examine the witness?” Celestia asked.
Grif nodded to him. “Uh, yes, your honor.” The pony got to his hooves, a little confused as he looked to the gryphon. Grif opened his left wing and casually motioned to the metal feather found there. Phoenix’s eyes lit up with understanding, a manic smile appearing on his face. “Princess celestia: does the letter mention anything about the abnormality of a metal feather within its writing?”
Celestia looked over the letter again. “It doesn’t,” she responded.
“Mr.Bladefeather, if i may ask, where did you get such an embellishment?” he asked.
“I am not sure, actually. I had it when Graf found me. No doctor has been able to find surgical marks near it. Doubtful it would be surgically placed there anyway,” the gryphon said.
“Objection!” Miles said. “Your honor, what does this farce prove? The letter could have left this detail out or quite simply the writer thought it didn’t need to be mentioned.”
grif smiled. “gotcha, edgy!” he thought.
“Objection overruled, Mr.Highworth,” Celestia said. “You had your chance.”
“Princess Celestia.” Phoenix approached his table before bringing forth a textbook. “This book was submitted from Grif Bladefeather’s private collection on gryphon traditions. It was written over a thousand years prior by a gryphon. The chapter on the metal feather notes that at the time such a feather was a sign of valor and awarded for distinction and survival of large battles. it was never given to a gryphon babe and according to the book, for a gryphon to be born with such a distinctive mark is more than an honor to the family, it is bragging rites to both the mother and father. It was socially expected that such would be rubbed in within gryphon society. for a mother not mention it once in her letter would be a great dishonor. With this evidence we can safely assume the child drowned with his mother, as sad as it may be, and that Grif Bladefeather is not the cub from the letter.”
The look on miles’ face was somewhere between shock and pain. Celestia and her associates argued for a several minutes amongst themselves with animated snorts, waving of hooves, shaking of claws, and flapping of wings. At last, the gryphoness visibly relented, defeated by the logic of the two opposing judges.
“Grif blade feather, this court finds that you can in no way be considered under the authority of Gryphonia. Seeing as you are not an Equestrian citizen either, we find that our authority to punish you is not yet present. That duty must fall to your liege lord, who is within this trial still. Therefore, we are confining you to Canterlot Palace until these proceedings are complete,” celestia said, banging her gavel. “Guardsmen, please escort him to the palace.”
Grif stepped off the stand and walked confidently from the courtroom, giving his friends a wink as he strolled out.
“This court case will now continue. Mr. Prosecutor, you have two more accused. Please, call your next witness,” Celestia said.
“Your honor, the prosecution calls for its next witness…. Haymin the dragon.” A collective gasp filled the room as the name was called. The judges also balked, surprised that a dragon should be invited, let alone called as a key witness. “We also ask that the court reconvenes outside due to the size of this particular witness.”
Pensword gaped and sputtered in shock. He blinked a few times as the courtroom buzzed in the reveal that they would soon be hosting a dragon. “He’s not napping?” he muttered as he looked to Hammer Strike.
The three judges conversed silently and after a time of hushed and worrisome deliberation they turned to face the courtroom as Celestia stood. “We shall reconvene in ten minute’s time outside in the Courtyard in front of these chambers. Those who wish to continue watching shall be permitted access to the balconies to watch.” She banged the gavel. “Court is in recess.”
Extended Holiday Chp 42: The Salmon of Knowledge Act 5: The Case
Grif sat back on the chair in his room. His stay at Canterlot had been decent, all things considered, until the couriers had come into the room with several small packages and a letter from the Gryphon kingdom. The letter itself held a seal similar to a few Grif had seen when raiding outposts during the Third Gryphon war, though it seemed slightly altered now. Before it had been crossed claws with a crown and a sword imposed. Now the sword was absent and the claws were open in a almost welcoming gesture. The seal was imprinted in ornate gold wax: the imperial seal. After a moment’s hesitation Grif broke the seal with a talon and opened the letter. It was written in Gryphic which, fortunately, had not changed much in the past millennium.
To Grif Bladefeather, from the table of the holy emperor, Daedalus VII
Before we start, let us assure you this letter, should you choose to read it - and believe us when we say we understand should you choose not too - contains no malice or demands regarding you and past actions. That was a different time, and we are pleased to assure you a much different Gryphonia.
First off, let us congratulate you on your recent return. We hope adjusting to the modern times will be easy for you and we pray your life now to be much easier than it was. Yes it has been a thousand years and we have learned much about your life before the war.
As a show that we wish to extend our wings in peace, we have sent to you books covering various social changes to the Gryphon structure. It is to our hope you will make good use of these.
It has not gone without our notice that you were noted to have taken on the name ‘Bladefeather’ as if to be a clan name. As you may or may not be aware, there have been numerous attempts to establish a Gryphon clan within Equestria’s borders. These have usually ended in failure due to unforeseen complications. Therefore we should like to aid you in this venture. It is to this end we have also included several tomes on the clan law and tradition our grandfather set down with Princess Celestia during the first attempt. We do hope to hear of the Bladefeather clan’s success in the future.
You may have noticed that amongst the things delivered is a small wrapped package. We would appreciate it if you would kindly open that now.
Raising an eyebrow, Grif did so, carefully removing the wrapping on the small oblong container. Beneath the paper wrapping an ornate black velvet box lined with silver was revealed. Much to Grif’s shock, a great emerald stood mounted and etched to form the shape of crossed swords with blades shaped like feathers. Opening the box, several rings in varying shapes and sizes met his gaze, all bearing the same crest. The largest ring, which Grif guessed was meant for him, was made of three separate bands fused together. The two outer bands were made of gold and fused to a central band made from ebony. The three rings closest to it were each made from pure gold and set with a small stone opposing the crest. The last three were forged from simple silver with no embellishments. Grif turned his attention, albeit slightly unwillingly, from the rings back to the note.
As you may have guessed, we have included a set of signet clan rings for you: one for yourself, three for your pride mates, and three more for your heirs.
Had Grif been drinking he likely would have done a spit take as he read the words ‘pride mates’ again. Looking to the other packages he noted he should probably read those books A.S.A.P.
We do hope they are acceptable to you. And should they need resizing we are sure we can have one of our best jewelers out there to complete the task. Ponies, we understand, are as woefully inadequate with finger jewelry as we are with magic.
We have also included hidden amongst the books a small sum of imperial beaks in hopes of wiping away the terrible business with the Black Tips. We had every reason to believe they had been exterminated and shall be arranging a thorough investigation into the matter.
Now, on the matter of the ‘Fortress of Arcanium’, it has been to our understanding for quite a long long time that your friends discovered a tomb under the fortress belonging to the legendary Grask Grimfeather Dragonfeller. Our historical society has been attempting to get access back to the fortress for literally one thousand years but has been told again and again that the fort was taken essentially by you, and therefore is in your name until you either give it back or give it away. So we would like to request we be allowed to send our historians on an expedition to see the tomb. We shall pay whatever price you deem necessary and follow whatever rules you deem appropriate. You may even have guards present during the expedition if necessary.
Sadly, our time for this letter is running short. So we would like to finish with first saying that it is quite an honor to contact you. What you may not have been told is that in the last thousand years you have fallen quite mysteriously between villain and hero. After your aid in fighting off our armies during the Third Gryphon War, some parties who had been against the idea of consuming intelligent prey gained favor and, as such, many things changed in our society. Depending on the teller your story goes from a bloodthirsty rampaging demon to the most altruistic gryphon in recorded millenia.
With that in mind we would like to inform you that within the coming months a delegation will be arriving in canterlot for various reasons, including Gryphonia’s invitation to sponsor a team for the Equestria games, which we will most unfortunately be unable to attend. Amongst this delegation are our closest cousins, many of whom are from lines which have been sadly less successful in the last few decades. It is to our pleasure that we request you to meet with some of our female cousins in the hopes one may be added to your pride and we may create a strong tie through blood.
Please do not mistake this as some form of political hounding and note these females all have the choice to be present or not. The laws for female gryphons as you’ve known them have been adjusted since the rule of Holy Empress Warbeak I. Until this time we offer our best wishes and pray on the winds that your wings fly well and your hunts be plentiful.
His holiness Holy Emperor Daedalus VII of Gryphonia.
Grif sent for Shrial immediately.
The court waited in front of the courthouse for the great dragon to make his appearance. The general atmosphere lay somewhere between fear and anticipation upon seeing the dragon in question.
Far off in the distance, many screams echoed as a golden gleam shone on the horizon. The shining speck slowly grew as it approached, becoming a shadow as it flew under the cloud cover. The great creature roared, filling the air with his cries and causing many a small forest animal to flee into its den. Flocking to either side, hundreds of Thestrals flanked, soaring on his tailwind. The dragon fired a gout of flame into the air, showing off as his scutes and scales were briefly dyed a fiery orange. Then he flapped into a landing, his massive form causing all of Canterlot to shudder against the mountain face. The Thestrals soon alighted behind him, several bearing the white mark of the Moonkissed. A light of recognition glinted in Pensword’s eyes as he looked on the Thestrals. They in turn, gave him a Thestral salute.
“I tried to leave them behind, but they insisted on accompanying me.” the dragon informed them. “Something about seeing Pensword in the dream realm. I did not believe it myself, and yet, here we are. It has been a long time, Pensword. Yet you do not seem to have aged a day. You must tell me your secret some time.” The dragon smiled wickedly, his eyes glinting as they locked their shimmering golden gaze on the pegasus and the other ponies and gryphons present. “I came here to fulfill a contract to testify truthfully as a witness to the events of the Third Gryphon War, of which I was briefly a part. By this contract, I have sworn a dragon's oath to speak truthfully. You have no need to fear me, nor my words. They shall be what they shall be.”
“Mr. Haymin,” Miles looked at the dragon as best he could, mustering an almost convincing unbothered gaze. “Before the war you were contracted by Commander Pensword for the killing of Gryphon soldiers, were you not?” he asked.
“Yes, I was indeed. Though that is not the whole story, mind you. My original contract was to protect his kind from any threats or violence, be they gryphon, pony, or otherwise. A general protector, if you will. Pensword renegotiated my contract after our … first encounter, and I agreed to defend Equestria’s outmost settlements from further gryphon attack. This was, if memory serves correctly, after your war was officially begun. Any further actions I took were on a contract by contract basis as they were proposed to me.” The dragon absently polished his claws against his scutes, looking rather bored.
“Mister Haymin, you are aware the declaration of war wasn’t officially made until Commander Pensword was already on the march for Fort Triumph?” Miles Highworth asked.
“Formally, perhaps. I don’t know how it is in your creatures’ cultures, but in dragonic society, if one dragon attacks another’s territory, it is war, whether an official declaration is made or not. Many times, your imperial soldiers attacked my charges without warning long before war was declared on either side. And I still have the armor to prove it. As for the other villages, as much as I did itch to kill more of your kind for what they did to my people, I had no contractual obligations and it would have been a waste of my energy and time. I did, however, smell pony blood and see quite a few battalions flying through the ranges.”
“That will be all, Mister Haymin.” Miles said hastily, turning to Celestia. “No further questions, Your Highness.”
“Would you like to cross examine the witness, Mister Roost?” Celestia asked.
“I think the witness has said all that was necessary, your highness.” Phoenix nodded.
“Very well. We shall have another ten minute recess and reconvene back in the courthouse. Thank you for your time, Mister Haymin.” Celestia nodded respectfully to the dragon.
The bailiffs worked hard and swiftly to escort Pensword and Hammer Strike back inside before they had a chance to talk to any ponies.
Two large gryphons and two unicorns stood sentry outside the door to Grif’s waiting room, looking as imposing as they could. The gryphons stood guarding the door to the prisoner while the unicorns seemed more determined to guard the door from the gryphons. One unicorn nodded with respect as Shrial approached the door. He and his companion moved swiftly aside to allow her through, even as the gryphons’ weapons crossed.
Shrial looked at the gryphons in disbelief. “What is the meaning of this?” She asked, keeping her tone level.
“No one is to see the prisoner until after the trial,” one gryphon said.
“And why, pray tell, should that be? There are no windows in that room for him to fly out of. And if he wished to escape by now, we all know he could have done so.” She paused a moment, looking deeply into the gryphon’s eyes, then smirked triumphantly. “So tell me, which of your ancestors did Grif kill for being such cowards in the first place?”
It brought a smile to her face as one of the two faltered for a minute. “Orders from prosecutor Highworth”
“On what grounds?”
“He’s plead guilty to all charges. He’s waiting to be sentenced by the appropriate powers,” the guard answered.
Shrial’s eyebrow twitched spasmodically. “He did … what now?” Her talons scraped ominously across the floor, the light from the torches causing them to glisten as they left their marks.
“He put himself at the mercy of whatever power the courts give the right to choose his fate.” The gryphon sneered.
“Gentlemen, a word to the wise. Your mothers taught you never to get in the way of a gryphoness and what she wants. And better yet, never to cross one in ire.” She chuckled darkly, her talons glinting as she unsheathed her sword. “I am going to give you to the count of ten, no, five; ten is too generous. To get out of my way. I will have words with Grif. And the council will be lucky to have even pieces of him left over when I’m through with him. Now … stand aside.” She growled, her eyes burning.
The guards shook as they lifted their spears and parted for her. “B … be quick about it then,” one said, trying his best to sound brave.
She silenced him with a glare, then looked to the ponies. “What are you smirking at?” She snarled. The two cringed, no longer so smug.
“Truly, Tartarus hath no fury like the wrath of a woman scorned,” the pony guard said, gulping as Shrial entered the room. The door slammed violently behind her with a force that shook the wall.
“Faust help us all.” The second pony prayed. And for once the two sides were in agreement. A fervent “Amen” echoed through the halls as the ponies prayed for Grif, while the gryphons prayed Shrial to kill and satiate her fury on him rather than them.
Grif casually looked up from the book on gryphon clan law. “Well, I see you made it,” he said. “Question: were you going to warn me about this?” he said pointing to the page in the open book.
Shrial was too upset to process what had just been said. “Grif Graffson Bladefeather! You have some explaining to do!” She shrieked as she pounced.
The air in the room instantly whipped up into a small but powerful vortex, catching her launching form and pressing her to the wall. “AND YOU, SHRIAL BLADEFEATHER, HAVE INFORMATION I NEED TO KNOW! NOW!” while Shrial held fire within her eyes, she could see within those blue pools a maelstrom of emotions: fear, rage, uncertainty, all battled within them. She was mad, but currently, the storm inside Grif was stronger. It would not be stopped.
Grif’s eye’s widened as he saw her pressed against the wall. Instantly, the wind died. “Oh Faust, what have I done?” He shrank back as the realization of his lashout hit him and Shrial dropped to the floor.
“Made an already very angry gryphoness livid.” Shrial growled. “You gave yourself up, just like that? You plead guilty? Are you insane? What in the nine levels of Tartarus were you thinking?” Her voice swelled in a grand crescendo that could ride on the very winds themselves. “I did not go through all that effort of watching over you at the hospice, fighting at your side, saving your life, and coming to the future with you, just so I could lose you now.” She approached the gryphon, stubborn as ever, despite the injury. The fact he had used the wind against her was beside the point.
“I… I lashed out… at you. How… why… I...I…” Grif seemed to be ignoring her as he sat. His eyes, wide with horror were locked on the abrasion on her shoulder.
“Snap out of it!” She slapped him again, the memory of the hospice flashing in Grif’s mind in a curious sense of dejavous. “I want answers, Grif. And they had better be good ones.”
“They… can’t touch me” Grif said, still trying to get over what he had done.
Shrial’s eyes narrowed, the injury negligible at best compared to what she had faced in the war. “Explain.”
“The Isles surrendered to Equestrian control a century or so after the war,” Grif told her, moving to her side to check the injury over. “As my Equestrian Citizenship papers are still wrapped up with bureaucrats and I’ve never been an imperial citizen, I am currently only liable to the power of Lord Hammerstrike. My fate is his decision,” Grif said.
“And that’s official?” Shrial asked, her breath quick.
“As official as it is that Shrial, the Gryphon Slayers, and Lunar Fang are legally dead, and thus cannot be held accountable for their ‘crimes,’” Grif said. “Does it hurt?” he asked, tenderly testing the area with pressure.
In response, Shrial grabbed Grif as strongly as she could. This time, not in playful battle, not in sparring or training. No, this strength was borne of something else. Tears stood in her eyes. “Don’t you ever do that to me again. I want you to tell me next time. It’s the least you can do for me.”
“I’m sorry.” His breathing finally slowed as he realized she was fine. “I will tell you everything, but you can never forgive me for this,” Grif said. “That was unacceptable.”
“That was fear, Grif. Something that you are going to have to reconcile yourself with. I assume it’s something that comes from your human side. If you two are going to combine like you plan, you will need to accept that aspect of your personality and reconnect it.”
“I… I really don’t deserve you,” Grif said, taking several deep breaths. He handed her his letter from the emperor “I received this today.”
She perused the contents, speeding to the important details with a trained eye as she kept one arm lazily wrapped around Grif’s neck. Her father’s training in the office had served her well. “You’re worried over a little thing like this? I thought you knew the laws for establishing clans already. I’m actually rather surprised Celestia got them this low. The requirement used to be at least ten.”
“Graf was never married,” Grif reminded her. “Aside from the talk of the private interactions of a male and female, I wasn’t given an education in courting or the forming of a clan,” Grif explained. “And for my other self such a number is still higher than normal.”
“Well now, that settles it, doesn’t it?” She asked, kissing him beak to beak. When they parted, she looked deep into his eyes. “And no more talk of being unworthy of me. We were made for each other, so quit being so worried after every little mistake. I’m not about to leave you anyways, no matter what you say or do. You’re stuck with me, you old wind bag.” She said, teasingly as she played with his crest feathers.
“You are saying I should go ahead with this then?” he asked.
“Either you go ahead with it and form the clan legally, or you don’t and we remain clanless. Either way, I’m still not letting you go. I’ll keep following you and supporting you, whatever you decide.”
“I want to help the clanless,” Grif said. “To bring them honor and give them pride again. If I am to do this, I want you to know I will strive to never love you less.”
“I know. You needn’t fear any from me … well, not without just cause anyways.” She paused a moment, then chuckled. “I would love to see the looks on those guards’ faces when they see this.” She smirked, motioning to the room. Papers, ink stains, books, furniture, and various fragments lay scattered around the space, making it a living work of art painted by the inks, shards of glass, and splintered wooden furniture. “You certainly know how to bring the house down.”
“Well, you bring out the animal in me.” He smiled, opening the case of signet rings. “I know technically we’re not engaged yet, but would you wear one?” he asked.
“Maybe after a proper proposal. I’ll give you time to plan it.” She said, winking as she swished her tail under his beak again and brushing it beneath before strolling for the door. “If you have any troubles, I recommend speaking with Taze. From what I understand, he’s quite the romantic at heart.”
Shrial opened the doors, looking happy as ever. “Good afternoon, gentlemen. Remember, take good care of my Grif.” She beamed a smile at each of them before gliding her way down the hall and out of sight. The gryphons and ponies both peered into the room briefly before the door shut, balking at the damage.
“Those two will be the most dangerous couple in the history of Equestria,” one of the ponies muttered.
“In the history of Equis.” The gryphon retorted, gulping. “I don’t know if she’s scarier when she’s angry, or when she’s happy.”
While the guards continued their discussion over their new common ground of intimidation from Shrial, Grif found himself sinking back into his chair as the gryphoness walked away, the smile on his face seemingly carved in stone.
“Order!” Celestia banged her gavel to silence the courtroom, then turned to Miles Highworth. “Please call your next witness to the stand.”
“The prosecution calls Commander Moonkissed Pensword Hurricane of the Equestrian Armed Forces,” Highworth announced, almost sneering at the titles.
Pensword stood calmly and walked to the witness stand. He turned around and faced the courtroom waiting to be administered the oath before speaking.
“Do you swear to tell the truth the whole truth and nothing but the truth, Faust help you?” the guard asked.
Pensword rose his right wing, an archaic move for a pegasus to add weight to his word. “I swear it,” he spoke solemnly.
“Now, you were Commander during the Third Gryphon War, correct?” Miles asked him.
“That is partially correct. I was promoted to Commander part way through the war. However, there were no Commanders for the war until my promotion.”
“You were the commanding officer at the siege of fort triumph, were you not?” Miles asked him.
“That is correct.” Pensword answered. “It was what propelled me into the Commander’s chair, as the modern history books say.” He shook his head. “I only was securing the flood gates to prevent Gryphons free access to the heart of Equestria.” His eyes hardened and his lips grew thin as he relived the past.
“But it was not your first field command, was it?” Miles asked him.
“That is correct. I do want to point out that there is a big difference from being a Captain or Colonel of a single army and Commander of the entire Equestrian Armed Forces.”
“Why don’t you tell everyone here about your prior field command?” Miles asked.
“I started as a full commander of the opposition forces in the Training Command post under Commandante Supreme Sunrise. I then took my cadre of forces in a quick march to retake the town of Mountainside Falls. It was there that we meet up with House Strike’s Mercenaries and marched to Unity.” The courtroom buzzed at the name of the first capital of Equestria. A bang of a hoof on the floor silenced the courtroom. “It was after regrouping and organizing that I was tasked on a mission by then Princess Luna, with a female Thestral of the name Lunar Fang.” He said with a wistful smile. He saw the look Celestia gave him and carefully resumed his narrative. “However, the details at this time are still classified by orders of the crown. We returned with the pledge of support of the Thestral Tribes. It was here that I was tasked once more to move out with House Hurricane and march to Fort Triumph. It was here that I was placed in charge of raiding parties and small tactics. Duke Hurricane was asked to support Commandante Supreme Sunrise and left his son and I in charge. It was here that we planned and I implemented the plans to take the fortress. The fortress was taken with zero deaths on the side of the Equestrian forces.”
“You say you marched to retake Mountainside Falls? Retake from whom?” Miles asked.
“The One Hundred First Emperor's Beak.” Pensword answered. “Under the Orders of the Gryphon King Comedius the sixteenth. With the Emperor’s blessing as well.”
“And you have proof they were not simply scouting to see what had happened to the unfortunate town?”
“Does a group who scouts stay to EAT the corpses?” His quivered in rage. “when I arrived, the town was burned to the ground. Anything of value was gone: chairs, tables, maps, documents. The Hooves Estate was gutted by fire. Foals were eaten…” He stopped and swallowed, cutting off his narrative. “I shall not speak more due to the fact there are mares and foals in the courtroom. They need not let their imaginations run wild.”
“Your Honor, I object. He’s badgering my client,” Phoenix Roost spoke up.
“Quite right, Mister Roost.” Celestia responded, looking to the judges. Both nodded in agreement. “Mister Highworth, the attack on the Emperor's Beak was sanctioned and recognized by the Crown of Equestria and the emperor after Gryphonia’s surrender. If this was your case, then I must say you should have studied the details better. Now do you have any legitimate questions, or are you simply blowing smoke?”
“Only a few more questions, Your Honor.” Miles said, turning to the witness once more. Commander, the records state you were at Mountainside Falls within less than a week after the attack. In fact, this report by Commandant Supreme Sunrise,” the gryphon said as he produced a document. “Which will, of course, be presented as prosecution’s exhibit C, states you left the very same night. So how did you know of the attack?”
Pensword eyed the prosecutor with a stony gaze. “I shall answer, but only if I am not interrupted.”
“An unusual request, Commander. We shall see based upon your answer,” Miles said with a lofty tone.
“Fair enough. I suppose I can expect nothing less in a court of law.” Pensword sighed. “You see, the mythology of the Thestrals shall answer.” He closed his eyes as his ears twitched. “There are three gifts the Moon gave to the Thestrals; three tools to help to protect them. The power to walk through dreams, the power to foresee future events, and lastly, the power to speak with those who have died.” He opened his eyes and Highworth could see the pain and anger burning.
“I bear the third gift, the power to speak with those who have departed this life. The night that the Gryphons attacked, I experienced a powerful event that few Thestrals, even those who bear this special gift, ever have before. I lived other’s lives, or more accurately, I lived their deaths. The deaths of every pony in my home town. The death of Mountain Side Falls.” His voice shook, along with his body and tears stood in his eyes as a haunted look came over them. “I knew the cruelty and barbarism that was reaped upon my town because I experienced it. I am the sole survivor of a total population of three hundred forty eight mares, stallions, and foals. Ten of which were unborn.” His words spoke to a silent courtroom. “One hundred troops under the banner of House Hooves were slaughtered. The entire Hooves estate including his servants, maids, and family were also taken, adding eighty more lives. I lived each one of those deaths.” He slammed a hoof down. “Tell me. What would you do if you saw your hometown wiped out and you knew how to get there. Would not thou hast gone as well?” He asked, the fact that his voice dropped into the older, more formal mode of speech spoke volumes of his distress.
“You expect us to believe that the dead told you about the attack?” Miles asked. “Your Honor, we all know such things are not a viable defense in any court.”
“What are you implying Mister Highworth?” Celestia asked.
“I think it is rather obvious that Commander Pensword was trading information with the enemy,” Miles Highworth replied. An immediate uproar rose in the courtroom.
“Objection, Your Honor.” Phoenix cried, but over the tumult of the massive group of ponies gathered, he could not be heard. He sighed, shook his head, then braced himself for the worst. “OBJECTION!” rang through the halls, once again causing ponies and gryphons alike to cover their ears. He coughed, cleared and rubbed his throat, then continued in as seamless a manner as possible. This is mere speculation, your honor.” Phoenix said, stamping a hoof.
“I will overlook your … enthusiastic remark since you calmed the court, Mister Roost. Just this once. With regards to the objection itself, I am afraid you're right. And I believe that my colleagues agree.” The two judges nodded, the gryphon judge looking disappointed and just a little disgusted. And with good reason. To attack another’s honor, even if it is not a gryphon, is not something taken lightly in Gryphon culture.
“Mister Highworth, if you cannot come up with something concrete right now, we will be throwing this case out” Miles flinched visibly at the judge’s announcement. The princess and pony looked on in shock. Then the attorney snapped out of it, his expression cool.
“Very well, Your Honor. There is still one last matter to address. While Grif has been covered in this trial, there is the matter of Commander Pensword sending him on a bloody vendetta.” Miles turned to Pensword, “And you cannot deny that, can you commander?”
“That was, once more, not just for my own desire or purpose, but also to satisfy the needs of those whose blood the Gryphons had spilled. As I said before, I communicate with the dead. I was hounded by their spirits day and night as I sought to put them to rest” He looked at Phoenix. “If the Prosecution would have noticed, that evidence submitted to the court was a list of names that were connected to the slaughter at Mountainside Falls. Each and every gryphon on that list killed and ate my family and those I called friend.” His eyes darkened.
“The blood of the innocent cried for retribution. I-” He took a deep breath. “I ordered it because the Gryphons felt secure that they could get away with anything as long as they returned to their forts and outposts or walled towns. This was as much to sow fear as it was to have those butchers reap what they sowed. As you will see on the list, each one of those was an officer or enlisted soldier of the Gryphon Military. My orders were solely against the military of Gryphonia. Never her civilians.”
“Nevertheless, you sent a soldier behind enemy lines to complete a vendetta, which is still a breach of the warcode as agreed between Equestria and Gryphonia hundreds of years before.” Miles countered.
“Those soldiers threw away their protection the night they refused six surrenders and consumed the the flesh of their conquest.” He snorted steam from his nostrils. “Do I have to be a scratched gramophone? They killed and ate the citizens of Equestria, of my home town. Not only that, but before Mountainside, there was the mysterious ‘abandonments,’ as they were called, of six frontier towns. Boulder Ridge: two hundred lives missing. Salt Lake: one hundred missing. Silver Plum: two hundred eighty. Gold River: three hundred. Cloud Valley: two hundred twenty five. Twin Pine: one hundred and fifty one.” His expression was hard. “The treaty was broken long before I started this vendetta. I only went after those responsible for Mountainside Falls.”
“That is enough.” Celestia banged her gavel, strain and pain visibly showing on her face. “We will retire to discuss this.” She announced as she and the other two judges left the room quietly. They returned ten minutes later. “Prosecutor Edgeworth, we find Gryphonia’s case against Commander Pensword to be flimsy and transparent. As a unified body, we hereby clear the commander of all charges. He is free to go.” Celestia was answered with cheers amongst the guards and ponies which drowned out what few low boos came from the gryphons.
Pensword moved slowly and walked from the stand. On his way to the defense’s table, he paused next to Miles. “Your grandfather is pleased at how you are doing your best with this case, even though you are wrong.” He walked two steps more before pausing and turning his head back to Miles and spoke. “Justice lies with the Feathers.”
Miles’ eyes widened. “How did you …?”
All he got from Pensword was a cryptic smirk before he continued and sat at the table with his friend. “I do not abandon my men. Seeing as I am still technically the military leader for Lord Hammer Strike, my place is at his side for this trial until said trial is concluded and somepony is found to take my place.”
“That had to be one of the shortest trials I have seen or even heard about.” Pensword muttered as they left the courtroom, a grin plastered on his face as he looked to the ponies outside. He turned to Hammer Strike. “What say you?”
“I’m trying to understand why they even bothered that last attempt at showing that I was guilty. Tt backfired horribly.”
“Agreed.” He paused. “Uh, Hammer Strike, I think I shall catch you later. I have an old friend and a clan to reacquaint myself with. A thousand years is a long time to catch up, and with this trail done, I think Lunar Fang and I have someplace we need to show up to later this week,” he replied with a knowing smile.
Hammer Strike simply nodded as he walked off to do whatever it was he was going to do.
“I think Grif will be happy to hear we can go home soon” Lunar Fang noted as she trotted next to them.
“Agreed. That will be nice. To get back, I mean. It feels like a month since we saw New Unity, what with Shawn’s week trip and this trial. Still, how are you feeling about meeting the Dream Clan again?”
“Nervous.” Lunar Fang admitted. “Much has changed since we last saw them.”
Pensword nodded as they approached the guests who had flown with Haymin. He clopped slowly towards the one he hoped was their leader. “Greetings.” he said, giving a Thestral bow. He rose and looked at the Thestrals. “It,” he smiled, “It is good to see that my clan lived and did not die out.”
The Thestral nodded slowly, staring at Pensword with wide eyes.
“Uh...” Pensword looked behind him. “What is it?” He turned back. “Is somepony showing themselves to thee and not I?” He looked around before realizing something. “Uh, it is just, uh, you are going to be okay?”
“You’re actually him.” Another Thestral, a mare this time, walked up beside the dumbstruck stallion. “You're the real commander?”
“Are you trying to inform me that there have been imposters in the past?” he asked, looking a little sick at the thought that folks would try to impersonate him. “Still, yes I am the commander. I, I slipped through time, in a manner of speaking.”
Pensword had little time to prepare himself as a veritable mountain of Thestrals rushed and engulfed him in possibly the largest group hug imaginable. He was bombarded by welcomes and questions about the past.
“One at a time. One at a time,” he called out, laughing merrily. “I have to ask questions as well. I have to know what happened to the Dream Clan since ... since-” his voice caught. “Since Grandma…” he found his wife and hugged her as he realized that his grandmother had been dead for a long time now as well.
“We’ve thrived for the most part,” the same mare responded. “Most of us stay within Mountainside Falls while others stay with Haymin.” she explained.
Pensword paused. “Mo.. Mountainside…” He did not know what to think. “You, you live in… my.” He began to blubber. “My… my family, my home.” He cried. “My clan lives in my old childhood lands.” He did not know how to feel, but in a way, it seemed that time was trying to heal what once had been broken. “Haymin. Is Haymin good to the clans? To those he protects? He only takes ten percent? If he has started to take everything, I will have to get Concord again.”
“He protects us jealously,” the mare said, laughing. “He calls us ‘Pensword’s hoard.’” She smiled as the family moved in to hug him tighter. “When Luna fell, it seemed to be the safest place for us.”
“I am glad. But why Mountainside Falls? What about the passes? Fort Triumph? Or the old Thestral meeting caves?” He asked as he looked worried. “Surely you have those places as well?” He looked ashen. “Did we lose a lot when Luna fell?”
“Not so many. But the dream clan did not wish to hide in the caves. we chose to be the sentinels of your return. As for Fort Triumph, the Lion Tribe left a clan of their own to guard it.” she explained.
“Good,” Pensword muttered. “That means that the Thestrals have a little more movement than before. They only had two valleys aside from the caves if memory serves correctly.” He looked to his clan and distant family. “Please, tell the others that once we are ready, High Chieftess Luna shall return to once again integrate the Thestrals into Pony society.” He looked at the group. “Who is the current clan leader? How has the land treated thee these last thousand years?” He kindly ignored a historian hanging to the side eavesdropping. He didn’t care about anything but learning about his family.
“The land treats us well. Our leader, Moonkissed Whirlwind, was unable to make it here today,” the mare responded regretfully. “She had other duties”
Pensword froze. “Did…. Whril… Moonkissed?” he stammered. “You, do know who that is? Who I think of when I hear the name Whirlwind?” He asked. “So she had the pure white mane and tail as well?”
The mare nodded. “The trait has become much more common amongst the dream clan” she explained.
“It has?” Pensword asked. “How? The moon must be pleased with the clan then.”
“That’s what we like to believe.” the mare said as she nodded. It was about this time Pensword finally was able to move enough to notice the small foal nervously hiding behind the mare’s and stallion’s legs. His coat was a dark black and he too carried the white mane and tail.
Pensword smiled and got low to the ground to meet the eye level of the foal. “Hello.” He spoke softly. “What’s your name?” He asked with a small smile. “You are special. You have a moonkissed mane and tail and you are still very young.”
The mare blushed. “That is my son. His name is Pensword.” she squeaked out.
“I am not surprised, to be honest.” he replied with a laugh. “It has been a thousand years. I surely would have met another with the same name.” he looked at the foal. “A full blooded Thestral by appearance.” he began to chuckle. “Oh the portrait we could have; dressed in guard armor and…” he began to laugh. “Come now, why dost thou fear me?” At the moment he was acting very much unlike the hero he was painted to be in history.
“Did… did you really scream like a manticore when you attacked Haymin?” the foal asked nervously.
Pensword actually snorted with laughter. “Are you kidding me? It was more like I charged him with a knot in my stomach. Dragons are not a pushover.” He shook his head. “I doubt that I could ever reproduce the sound of a manticore roar.”
The foal just stared at him, still incredibly nervous. “My sister said you sent us away when Luna fell. … She said it was ‘cause you didn’t like us anymore.”
Pensword paused at the comment and something clicked. “My dear foal, I was trapped in stone when that happened.” His expression was pained as he looked on the young one, “But know this. If I did have to send thee away, it was to protect thee. To protect my only kin left alive.” His eyes filled with tears. “Thou knowest what the legends said about what the Nightmare did to her most loyal of guards that night. How could I allow her the chance to do that to an entire race; to an entire tribe of ponydom?” He shook his head. “Nay, I could not let that nightmare do that. I sent thine ancestors away to protect them, and give them sanctuary from those that might lash out at thee.” He moved the touch noses with the foal. “Thou art in me, just and I am in thee.” he spoke, quoting a line of old Thestral wisdom.
“Promise?” the foal asked him.
“Promise upon my fangs.” He responded. He was surprised to find that he had been given more room to breathe as he spoke with his namesake, or rather, as his namesake spoke with the one that he was named after. The foal smiled at him for the first time and rushed forward to hug the older stallion.
Pensword smiled and embraced the foal into a hug. “Tis good to have family, is it not?” he asked.
The foal nodded happily. The crowd around Pensword all grinned happily at him, each face reflecting traits he remembered from his aunts, his uncles, cousins, even a few from his mother and grandmother. He paused as he looked at the slightly larger Dragon. “So, did you gain more wealth than you thought with the percentage deal I set up?” he asked with a chuckle. “Also, thank you for protecting my clan and the Thestrals after ... after that dark night.”
Haymin chuckled deeply. “That was a rather interesting conversation. But your hoard are certainly entertaining when they are young. I humor them occasionally if they are brave enough to visit my den. I think I may be getting soft in my old age.” He laughed again. “As for the wealth, I would say it has been a fair enough exchange. We had a few mobs that tried to break through and restrain me magically. I showed them I do not take kindly to such rude guests.” He grinned, baring his fangs. “After that, they tried to bribe me. Me! The sheer audacity. Though I do admit, it was quite a sum. Still, the Thestrals more than made up for it over the years. I have kept our contract honorably. And made a pretty penny too.” He winked. “Moreso in the recent century or two after the Thestrals started to come out of hiding. All of that aside however, I must say it is good to see you again, Pensword. It pains me to say it, but I missed your boldness. There aren’t many ponies like you left nowadays. They just don’t make them like they used to.”
“I assure you that there might not be a single Pony just like me in all of Equestria.” he replied with a chuckle as he shot a knowing look to Lunar Fang. Haymin did not yet know the full history of Pensword’s past. “It is good to see you, and just as a warning, I still have Concord for any Dragons that might come after me. I am just happy that I could see what we built, and hopefully what shall come.” he grinned. “You are welcome to visit New Unity, the old capital that we are rebuilding. There is a dragon hatchling who might do well to learn from another Dragon.” He slowly laughed. “Just let us know before thine arrival. The town is prone to panic attacks.”
“You don’t mean that young upstart who tried to claim this land as his territory a few months ago, do you?” Haymin struggled to hold back his laughter, tears standing in his eyes. “Ah,” he sighed. “To be young and in puberty again. Those were the days. So much conquest. So much gold.”
“I think he is going to need a teacher to help him through this age or when he starts to have them again.” Pensword shuddered. “I do not want to use Concord on a friend, so a little help on that front would be appreciated. Mind you, he lives with one Twilight Sparkle, the wielder of the Element of Magic in the Elements of Harmony. So be warned, she might be asking questions as well.” He shook his head. “Still, it is just so good to see you and not having to order you against armies of Gryphons.” He smiled, then paused as he noticed chairs and a table being brought out. “It appears we have a night to regale stories and tales of the glories from days long past. Wouldst thou like to join us as a friend?”
“I think I have the time. My hoard is well protected by your hoard. They seem to view it as a personal favor after all these years. An entertaining lot, you Thestrals. I never know just what you ponies are going to do next.”
Grif sat before Hammer Strike in a room full of armed guards mixing between gryphons and ponies. The gryphon rolled his eyes casually as he waited while the acting captain gave a rather long winded speech regarding the charges and Hammer Strike’s role in choosing the Gryphon’s punishment.
“And so,” The gryphon said, finally coming to his conclusion. “What would you do with him Lord Hammer Strike?”
Hammer Strike looked towards Grif and shrugged. “I’m disappointed in you, Grif.” He then turned back to the other gryphon. “There. You can all go now.”
The gryphon stood there, dumbstruck as the ponies snickered. “Come along, captain, I believe it’s time for you to be making your arrangements to travel home,” he said, patting the gryphon on the back. The guards proceeded to escort the captain out, the gryphon troops following after. The gryphons grumbled as they made their way out while the guards that flanked them smiled as they marched. The door closed behind them with a bang and Grif leaned back in his chair.
“Wonder what they thought was going to happen?” Grif asked.
“Considering I spent the last week sparring with Celestia, possibly something along those lines.” Hammer Strike replied with a shrug.
“I keep my weapons and armor in reasonably good condition.” Grif noted with a nod. “Other than that, I’m not sure what I could do to earn that kind of reprimand.” he laughed. “So, happy it’s all over?”
Hammer Strike shrugged in response. “Somewhat. I want to get back to work. My equipment wasn’t taken care of in a thousand years. And worst of all, the armor I made for Luna has deteriorated.” He sighed.
“The Ursa set?” Grif asked with a raised eyebrow, to which Hammer Strike responded with a nod. “Well, at least they're not making you tailor nemean lion skin.” He attempted to laugh before his face dropped. “Listen… Shawn,” he started. “We need to talk about something.”
“And that would be?”
“There may be a time, and that time may be soon, where you come to talk to me and I don’t seem like the same person as I was before. I might be talking differently, possibly even acting unlike myself in some areas.”
“The reason for this?”
“You know very well there is more than one person running around up here.” Grif tapped his head. “And the both of us have decided that it can’t stay that way. But neither side is planning on simply giving in to the other one so… something different is going to happen.”
“Well, things will at least be interesting.” Hammer Strike shrugged.
“I have no idea who we’ll be, who I will be. Grif and Taze are going to break down and someone new is going to be coming in: a compilation of the two parts. I just wanted you to know. Whoever takes over, he’s still going to be your friend.”
“It’d be odd if you weren’t.”
“And… TARDIS.” Grif said as a familiar groaning sound began to echo into the room. Gradually a silhouette appeared and slowly began to fill in as the blue police box materialized into the room.
“And here I was wondering when that was going to happen,” Hammer Strike commented.
The doors opened as the familiar stallion entered the room, this time followed by a familiar pink unicorn mare. “There you are! Come on then, we have to hurry. Timey wimey things to do and all that,” the doctor said moving to Hammer Strike, attempting, and failing comically, to push the earth pony along.
“Welp, if you will excuse me for whatever amount of time I vanish for,” Hammer Strike said walking into the Tardis.
The blue doors closed and with the same groaning sound the box was gone. Grif stared at the spot for a moment with a raised eyebrow. “Was I just...ditched?” he wondered out loud. Shrugging to himself, he headed for the door. “Time to start Rarity’s lessons anyway.” he said with a sigh.
After getting his documents from the Canterlot Archives Hammer Strike found himself pushed out into another point with one of his chest plates shoved on by the Doctor. The stallion told him to ‘go wander for a bit.’
Shaking his head, Hammer Strike found himself looking towards a group of familiar figures in the distance. They soon took notice of him as well. “Oh, wonderful.” He muttered to himself.
“Hello Grif, Pensword, ... Moonshade.” He said after a pause to keep himself from saying Lunar Fang.
“Hello. So, got bored again?” Pensword asked as he looked over the armor. “Have to say, you are getting better at the crafting in a single night.” He looked around for a moment. “So, what have you been doing other than crafting?”
Hammer chuckled. “In technicality, a lot of things. The castle has quite a variety of metals. Got a bit bored.” He shook his head. “So, how is it going?”
“Oh, just preparing for a war trial.” He saw Grif smile. “Oh, the princess noted we may all need one of those.”
Thinking for a second, Hammer Strike responded. “Might have to remind me about that later…”
And they talked and talked, Hammer Strike finding it very odd how they were ignoring or missing a major difference between him now, and then.
“Shawn…?” He heard Grif ask. “What happened to your ear?”
Hammer chuckled. “It took you long enough to notice...”
“So how far in the future?” Grif asked.
“Far enough.” Hammer Strike responded. “I can’t, or shouldn’t say that much. But honestly, whatever I say and do now already happened, so…” Hammer Strike shrugged.
“So, what brought you back to this time period? I mean, something has to happen to cause you to come back here.”
Moonshade looked at Hammer Strike for a second. “Will Pensword be okay with Lunar Fang?”
“Things turn out for the better.” Hammer responded cryptically.
A snort came from Pensword’s nose. “Always cryptic with you time travelers.” He shook his head. “Yet, here I speak when I had to be that once already.”
“Well, excuuse me.” Hammer responded. “If you want, I’ll tell you your whole future. Do you want me to start?” He grinned with a mischievous glint in his eyes.
“I’ll wait, I think.” Pensword muttered. “I know enough already from the textbooks.” He looked to Moonshade with a blush.
“Trust me. Textbooks don’t give you all the details.” Hammer Strike said grimly, gesturing towards a few of the scars on his face.
“Can’t think of any safe questions.” Grif said as he shrugged. “Do we give worse then we get?”
“Considering what I did to a Gryphon fortress…” Hammer Strike nodded. “Oh yeah, we do.”
“Well, is it a pleasant trip back?” Moonshade asked. “We do have time to prepare for it, right?”
“Oh yeah. We had plenty of time to prepare.” Hammer Strike said.
“I want to ask questions,” Pensword muttered slowly. “Yet, the fear of messing up the timeline prevents me from asking anything that would be intelligent. But I will ask one. Is the food okay for us back then?”
“As good as it can be for the time.” Hammer Strike shrugged. “You can ask anything, technically. Anything I say has already happened for me, so it should all be fine.”
“Well that is good.” Pensword paused. “Do, do I make a good first impression on Lunar Fang? Or the Princesses?”
“The best.”
“That is good to know.” He let out a breath. “I am pleased to know I do not stick my hoof in my mouth. Which I seem to do time and again.”
“Am I going back as well? Tell me that at least. I am not letting you out of my sight, so AM I Going back?” Moonshade asked.
“Yeah.”
“Care to elaborate?” She asked, her tone growing a tad more dangerous. “Because I am going to make sure history stays intact. You know how flighty and distracted Pensword, or Matthew’s mind can get at times.”
“To elaborate, no.” He responded.
She growled and face hoofed. “Great. So, yes or no. Do I maintain my goal?”
“Better than maintain it.”.
“So you're not going to tell us about ...” Grif mimed the missing ear piece.
“Nope.” Hammer responded. “In all honesty, it’s better you don’t learn now about this.” He shrugged. “On the upside, I learned a few new tricks.”
“Tricks such as?” Grif asked.
He raised his hoof in front of his face. “Spontaneous Combustion,” he said as his hoof ignited in a blue flame. He shrugged amiably.
“GAH!” Pensword sputtered as he jumped back, raising a hoof to his eyes. “What in Mother Russia?” he asked in Draconic. “Mother Mew.” He sputtered. “You, you almost gave me a heart attack.”
Moonshade stepped back, but her response was nothing near as dramatic. “You, but, that, how?” She shook her head. “I know you have bits of strange magic, but an Earth Pony shouldn’t be able to do that.”
“There’s a lot of things I shouldn’t be able to do.” He grinned. “Trust me, things go farther than just this.” He said, lightly stomping his hoof, extinguishing the flame. “But know this. Who I am to you now doesn’t change. We all go through events that I wouldn’t wish on another and we come out on top. This is our story and we will live through it.”
“Well, from what you say, we all live to see the present again.” Pensword replied with a smile. “That makes me happy to know that the ending of our story up to your point is a happy one. We live to see modern Equestria again.” He frowned a little but did not say anything more.
None of them noticed as Hammer Strike’s eye twitched. “I should leave. Celestia might have noticed the bit of power I just used. I don’t know and I don’t want to stick around to find out.” He nodded before leaving in a random direction. The Doctor would find him eventually.
“So Rarity, you came here to learn how to use a sword. And I think I’ve made you wait long enough.” Grif smiled as he walked around the training area. “For starters, take the sword in front of you and let’s see your stance.” Seeing Rarity’s horn light, he grinned. “Ah ah ah. I said no magic.” He said, wagging a finger.
The light fizzled out as Rarity comically attempted to pick up the practice sword. Grif had cut a soft wooden pole with his talons to vaguely resemble a sword. Rarity continued to fumble with her hooves, resulting in much comedic fumbling and a few cases of tripping. “I think it might be broken,” she said at last as she picked herself up.
“For starters,” Grif said, picking it up with a single talon. “It’s a one hoofed blade. You pick it up in one hoof.” He pressed it into one of her forehooves till she gripped it. “Now widen your legs, back legs spread apart with your weight slightly to your right. That’s it. Now, right foreleg splayed out forwards and several degrees to the right. Your sword hoof needs to be bent upwards holding the sword either vertically with the blade pointed forward or horizontally with the edge pointed away from you” He said, giving her basic instructions while adjusting her positioning physically.
“Stance displays power. It commands respect and it shows your opponent that you respect him as well.” Grif smiled as he finally got her into a somewhat acceptable form. “There, like that. Now remember, your weight should be fluid. Swordplay is primarily about speed. Speed of body and speed of mind,” he explained. Without a word he swung around, sending his back left paw into the mare’s right foreleg and knocking it out from under her.
“Well, that was rude,” Rarity said, picking herself up and brushing some dirt off her fur.
“Your opponent likely won’t be caring how rude he appears while your blades are locked,” Grif explained. “Back into form,” he ordered. He smiled when it took rarity less time to find the form from before. “Don’t rely on your eyes. Every sense should be your tool in battle,” he explained as he repeated the action. Much as expected, Rarity reared up before he could make contact. She smiled, but only for a moment before he swept her back legs out from under her. “Small victories mean nothing,” he explained as she got up again. “Until the battle is done you are always in danger. Keep your body moving and your sword ready. Sword maneuvers vary from the cultures who use them, but in many places they are often referred to as dances because the movements must be swift, fluid, and elegant, just as when one performs a dance. In much the same way as dancing, you must also be able to read your partner’s movements before he or she makes them. keep an eye on them. Look for odd habits, twitches, anything that might be a tell.”
Grif sweeped again and Rarity reared. She avoided the second attempt by kicking her rear legs up. The moment her hooves met the ground, she brought the sword up to smack away Grif’s wing, which had been coming to buffet her side. “Thats more like it.” Grif smiled in approval.
Over the next hour Grif schooled Rarity on the four principal movements within fencing: block, slash, thrust, and parry. He explained the strengths and weaknesses of each before going into the examples how these may be combined or re-interpreted. Years of designing and creating had sharpened Rarity’s mind and Grif could not hold back a smile as she grasped the concepts quickly. She was only just starting, but he could see that she would be an impressive swords pony one day.
By the end of the session Rarity was tired, bruised, dirty, and had gone the longest Grif could think of without complaining about the dirt. With a grin, grif told her to return to her room and rest. Rarity left the training ground quickly, her new practice sword strapped to her back. With a chuckle Grif began writing up notes and mapping a lesson plan for the future. Who would have thought that Rarity, of all ponies, had a knack for swordplay.
Hammer Strike sighed as he sat in one of the forges in Canterlot, waiting for Luna to bring the decayed Ursa Armor. He was in for plenty of work just trying to fix the damage time had caused.
Luna entered the forge, two lunar guards trailing behind as they hauled a cart that held the armor. Both were red in the face and sweating. The weight must have been immense by normal pony standards.
“Sorry I’m late,” she said.
Hammer Strike shrugged in response. “No worries. It’s going to take ages anyways to repair it.”
“I’ve done my best,” Luna noted, showing him her work. It was not much in comparison, but the patch jobs seemed to have kept the armor from falling apart at the very least.
“At least you did that. Otherwise you wouldn’t have this armor anymore.” He sighed. “I have no idea how long it will take to repair this.”
“I don’t expect a miracle overnight,” Luna said. “Thank Sleipnir that Equestria isn’t at war currently” Luna sighed. “That was my best armor.”
“It also took the longest to make.” Hammer replied. “Well, I guess I’ll get to work. Unless you have something you want to talk about before you go?”
“How did this happen, Hammer Strike? Equestria is standing on imagined power at her best.” Luna sighed.
“A thousand years of peace.” He replied. “And the fear that Celestia will burn any enemy that stands in her way. Still, even then, that notion is fading.”
“I guess I injured Equestria a lot more than I intended,” Luna said. “Even saying it like that sounds bad. Hammer Strike, you always told me those who are thoughtless are unworthy. Is that me? Am I thoughtless?”
“Considering you were the one trying to fix these problems, I doubt that,” He replied. “You and your sister have had control over Equestria for a long time. It will never be easy and it will never be perfect, but you both strive for the best you can.”
“I just hope one day everypony will see that,” Luna said. “Anyway, I must be preparing. I need to attend to meteor impact before we set out for the Thestral colony. if you need anything, just ask.”
“I’ll be here for the next week. As long as I have the required materials I should be fine.” He sighed. “Perhaps shorter, perhaps longer…” He shrugged. “Have fun with your meeting and preparations.”
Luna nodded to Hammer Strike before leaving.
Pensword and Lunar Fang both sat in a room that Pensword had not seen for a very long time. It was the same meeting room where he had once stood as a human, asking, nay, petitioning Princess Luna for help against the Changelings. Only now he was sitting as a pony with a wing over his mate as they waited for High Chieftess Princess Luna. Pensword looked to Lunar Fang. “A lot has happened since we last stood in this room, Lunar-” he broke off in his muttering. “Or should I say Moonshade?” he asked.
She laughed “You probably wanted to say ‘Lunar Fang’ before saying that last part” she said.
“Yeah, I thought it, but I only said half of it.” He frowned. “My Dad did that a lot. He always spoke in half sentences and expected you to know what he was saying.” He sniffed a little. “My brother was perfect at understanding what he meant. I always got frustrated by that.”
“You’ll see them again,” she assured him, nuzzling him gently.
Pensword returned the nuzzle. “I hope they get to see their daughter in law.” He paused, then began to laugh. “Who would have thought their daughter in law would be a Thestral and that they would be grandparents to a foal?” He shook his head at the strange twist in his life. “I know my parents would love you no matter what. As for the relatives … that I do not know.”
“The point is that you love me,” she said. “Anypony else can burn for all I care.” she laughed.
“Anypony else?” a voice spoke up from behind them. “And here I thought I had garnered more respect from you than that.”
Pensword froze as he turned his head towards the new voice. “I think she was referring to any of my relatives back on Earth.” His voice was a little weak and nervous now.
“Yes, High Chieftess? Princess? I’m still not sure how we are supposed to address you now.” Lunar Fang said.
“For you two, you will address me as Luna. I think you both have earned that much.”
“Of course, Luna,” Pensword replied. “Does that cover outside in public as well?” He smirked. “Imagine the scandal that would cause.”
“Hang it all,” Luna said “I only have my trusted commander and my faithful protector at this time with whom I can share this level of familiarity. Let the papers print what they will.”
“As you wish, Luna.” Pensword replied. “How long til the bureaucrats recognize that Lunar Fang is alive? I received two letters today asking for courtships in a few minor noble houses.”
“You know the curse of bureaucracy,” luna sighed. “It is amazing they get anything done.”
“It will be settled in time,” Lunar Fang said. “If need be, we can get a marriage certificate signed under Moonshade until this is all settled.”
“I like your thinking. It would look well, and reintegrate my loyalty to the Thestrals. At least until the news learns that Moonshade is Lunar Fang.” Pensword shook his head. “A herd of aliases,” he muttered with a laugh. “Would satisfy some of the older houses, including House Pudding. I do not have the time to take care of all the letters that might flood my inbox. I need to really think of hiring a secretary or something.” He looked at his wife with starry eyes. “Not thee. Thou art the second of the herd house. And the apple of my eye,” He whispered.
“Well, it should be fun for the media at any rate” lunar fang said, flustered as her cheeks burned a fiery red.
“So I have heard your clan thrives, Pensword?” Luna asked.
Pensword nuzzled Lunar Fang’s ear before returning to look at Luna. “Indeed. It seems they are taking care of my ... of my home. They thrive and it appears that over the years the trait of moonkissed has appeared more often. I almost want to say that the gifts have shown just as widely in the clan.” He closed his eyes. “The House of Lords will need to recognize that I am ruler of those lands,” He said as he opened them again. The fires of determination burned brightly in those orbs. “For I shall not let any other Pony save I or my mare become owner of those lands. The Hooves House was over Mountainside Falls. I have heard Fort Triumph is also taken care of by the Lion Tribe.” He bowed his head. “If it be thy will, I will submit a right of claim by blood and conquest to the House Lords for those lands.”
“And I will most strongly back you,” luna nodded. “It is time the Thestrals had places of their own to settle.”
“Hear, hear. They have already settled Mountainside Falls, as well as the Gryphon Pass. What became of the town that we took without loss of life at all? I have not found it in the books. Then again, with the trial I have not had the time I had hoped for a thorough examination.”
“Remember, Pensword, that the gryphons were pushed back across the sea. The buildings of that town have since worn to nothing and other buildings have been built and fallen over them.”
“I thought that surely the Thestrals would have made it another refugee town.” He shook his head. “Still, the lands have changed. I am sure things have become interesting with the invention of airships. the pass has lost importance, I would think.”
“Much has changed in a thousand years, Pensword. Even I am still attempting to get resettled,” Luna offered.
He let out a small laugh. “Then we can work together on resettling. How long til the armor is done and we can reclaim thy seat on the Thestral Council?” He looked at his wife. “It is interesting. A thousand years ago we did this. Now we are repeating a little history. Hopefully not all of it.” He grimaced. “I would rather not fight Sombra and be encased in stone again.” His laugh sounded hollow as he tried to forget the other event from a thousand years ago. He may have survived with only a scar from the events at the Crystal empire, but there were scars far deeper that had yet to heal from the war.
“I could not tell you,” Luna said. “It was hard enough for Hammer Strike to make the armor. Repairing it will not be easy for him.”
“We waited a thousand years. A little longer is no sweat.”
Luna sighed. “The Thestrals shouldn’t have had to wait at all. Truly, I wonder if I am worthy to be the High Chieftess,” she admitted, eliciting a gasp from both ponies present.
“What is the meaning of this?” Pensword cried out. “Not worthy? Thou didst slay an Ursa Major. How art thou not worthy? If needed, I will come and we shall fight to prove you are still High Chieftess.” He shook his head. “I may be stuck on the traditions, but if it means losing thee as High Chieftess, then I say we just march there and reassert thine authority.”
“Whatever is bothering you, you are still the one the Thestrals respect,” Lunar Fang said. “You shouldn’t doubt yourself. It makes it look like you doubt us.”
“Look at what I have done to you. Is that worthy of respect?”
“Done to me?” Pensword asked in a confused tone. “What hast thou done to me?” He paused. “Or art thou talking of Lunar Fang?”
“To the Thestrals,” Luna clarified. “Barely a century out in the light and I forced them back into the dark.”
“Humanity has had a lot more missteps. We are here. And today is a new day.” Pensword looked to the walls of the meeting room. “I assure you, if you wish to learn how the Thestrals feel, the Dream Clan is still in Canterlot. Go and ask them.” He spoke with a hopeful tone. “Ask them what they think.”
Luna paused for a time, pondering the proposal. “I may just do that, Pensword,” she said, not entirely convinced. “But for now, we have preparations to make.”
“Very well.” He paused. “I have a question. When dost thou wish us to be present for the presentation of thy bill?” He shook his head. “My apologies, Luna. It appears I slipped into the old language there.”
“You are currently Equestria’s highest ranking officer,” luna noted. “Should the military be reinstated, you will be the one to lead it.”
“Correct.” Pensword muttered. “With Lunar Fang as second in command.” He paused. “I shall take it that we shall be incorporating the Gryphon Slayers into your example? How much time do we have left?”
“Months at the very least, Pensword,” Luna said. “This is not a fast process and I must have my supporters identified before I proceed.”
“I understand. I take it that the Gryphon Slayers are a boon to the project? Also, if I am to create a working example, shall I have the authority to field promote at the time I deem necessary?” He frowned. “If thou wishest, I shall report. It seems that I have been delivered this morning, an invite with one Baron Blueblood, Prince Blueblood’s father, to meet later this evening. I shall report back to thee on how the meeting goes. I fear that his faction shall be opposed to thy plans.”
Grif, Shrial, Twilight, and Rarity stood at the platform waiting for the train. With Pensword preparing for his trip to the Thestrals and Hammer Strike working on Luna’s armor, it seemed a good idea for the gryphon to return to Ponyville, and from there to head to New Unity to keep an eye on things.
“It seems strange that you had me come all the way up here for a single lesson.” Rarity said. “Shouldn’t we stay a few more days?”
“Hammer Strike isn’t going to be leaving his forge until the armor is done and knowing the first time he worked with that stuff, it could be a week or more before anypony sees him again.” Grif shrugged.
“But shouldn’t you be staying there with him?” Rarity asked.
“Honestly, Rarity, I wasn’t anywhere near him for most of the war. And right now I’d do more harm than good, especially with this city driving me crazy. And you're coming with me ‘cause you have a lot to learn.” Grif chuckled. “Besides, until Hammer Strike gets back I get to decide the priority of things being rebuilt, and there are more than a few less than important things I’d like to see worked on.”
“I need to get back to Spike and the library anyway,” Twilight noted. “Staying longer would just complicate things.”
Further conversation was cut off by the whistle of the train. “Heh. Almost miss Pensword’s little episodes when the trains come.” Grif smiled before he boarded, the others following behind..
He kept smiling as he bid Canterlot adieu, missing nothing save the friends currently waylaid in the city. Lying back in his seat, the gryphon’s eyelids casually shut. Anyone who cared to look closely would note the state being more trance-like than sleep. Internally there was still much work to be done.
Pensword paused in his travels as an ear twitched. “Train arrived into Canterlot Station.” he muttered before looking to Lunar Fang. “Art thou ready for the coming meeting?” he asked. “What worries me is how politely and formally the request was written. Let alone from the reclusive Baron.” He paused. “You do not think that it is because of the Blueblood we knew during the war?”
“Blueblood never does anything out of nostalgia or honor,” Lunar Fang said bluntly. “Perhaps he wants to make sure you aren't going to use anything against him.”
“I could use things against him? Why would I do that? He may be a pain, but I would rather not test the mettle of a house that is a thousand years old.”
“To be noble is to be paranoid in most cases,” Lunar Fang said, sighing.
Pensword gave a snort. “What odd notions. Nonetheless, we are approaching the estate,” he muttered as they saw the gates. What surprised them was that the hitherto unseen Baron stood waiting for them personally at the gate. His coat shone white with a light blue mane and tail. His cutie mark waved boldly on the white flags on either side of the gate, portraying the image of four crowns positioned at the tips of a cross. It reminded Pensword of a compass.
“Welcome to Blueblood Estates.” The lord said with a grin. The gates lay opened wide as a gesture of peace and openness. “If you wouldn’t mind, please join me for tea in the gazebo.” Baron Blueblood smiled and turned around without further interaction, leading the way as they began their walk.
“We thank you for your hospitality, baron,” Lunar Fang spoke, nodding respectfully. Pensword remained silent. However, he did manage to cast a cool nod of thanks in the Baron’s direction before he turned away. The biting words from Prince Blueblood still hung in his mind, though he was not there to hear them personally, the apple doesn’t usually fall far from the tree.
The gazebo was a screened building the size of most one car garages from earth, or even a small home in Ponyville. It was richly appointed and already a tea service lay waiting with a plate of sugar cane stalks to the side. Pensword eyed them suspiciously with a raised brow.
They all settled on cushions that lay on the floor as Baron Blueblood poured tea into each cup. The complete lack of guards and servants was not lost on the couple as they watched the Lord. His calm expression seemed more like a mask than it did a face. At last, the baron spoke, his voice calm and even, almost casual. “I will presume you wonder why I asked you here.” He paused as he placed the teapot back on the serving tray resting on a silver tea trolley. “I will cut to the point. It is to deal with the matter of the founders of our house. You see, The skeleton in our closet, as you know already, is that our house has a few ‘bats,’ as some of the more vocal houses would say.” He held up a hoof, his expression cool and calm as he closed his eyes in a staying gesture of peace. “I will not lie to you. I have brought you here to make a request, and to deal. Some of the old laws are in effect. For example, if you are willing to forego any mention of certain meetings with Thestral tribes between our ‘blood lines,’ we are willing to hold off on laying claim to some ancestral lands in your New Unity project.”
“So, in return for us keeping a valuable piece of history hidden you will not exercise a right that your bloodline lost claim to more than three hundred years ago?” Lunar Fang asked.
“Actually,” Baron Blueblood replied. “The Blueblood camp on the outskirts of old Unity, which became a small collection of homes right before the fall of Unity and after the dreadful Nightmare Moon incident, has fallen back into our right due to the last of the line, Rosepetal, dying at the age of one hundred and two, three days ago.” Surprisingly, the supposedly ruthless lord actually looked pained. “A great ally and good friend she was.” He shook his head. “As for history, are you planning to rock all of Equestria with the news of what old families did? Of offshoots and Cadet branches of houses that married Thestrals? Think of the chaos that would bring, the purges of family lines that could happen if that news got out. All Noble houses know we have Thestrals in our past. However, none wish for it to be public knowledge. Three Noble houses have been looking to take House Blueblood down the last three generations. And getting the proof you hold of our founder being mated to a thestral could very well destroy us.” He looked worried. “If House Blueblood falls, then others could hold claim to the passes, and to Mountainside Falls.”
“What did you say?” Pensword snapped the sugar cane stalk in half as he heard the name of his hometown.
“By legal documentation, House Blueblood was placed as guardians of the lands that the Thestrals fled to. If the information falls and our house is destroyed, there are two noble houses, House Stanley and House Crane, who wish to turn your home into-”
“You will be presenting these forged documents immediately.” Lunar Fang said, cutting in. “House Blueblood was given stewardship of House Strike alone. Pensword, himself arranged this and both Celestia and Luna were present at its decree. Lord Hurricane was given the right to watch over the lands of the pass, the fort, and Mountainside Falls: the personal lands given to Pensword. The Blueblood line has no claim there and your papers will be disproven.” Her pupils had receded to slits, indicating the level of anger the baron’s words had brought. Still, Blueblood remained unphased he even managed to look crestfallen.
“The folder is there on the table at the other side of the room.” Blueblood sighed, as if trying to let go of a heavy burden. “Six hundred years ago, House Hurricane faced some financial problems. The Duke Blueblood at the time helped bail him out. However, it came at a cost. We lost the Duchy and became barons. In the aftermath, as a sign of respect, the Duke Captain Hurricane compensated our loss and hardship by making us joint stewards. It turned out to be a moment of serendipity, as two minor houses joined to try and wrest control of those lands to take their fertile farmlands and mineral deposits for themselves. Our two forces were able to push the invaders out and the two minor houses were absorbed into the Hurricane holdings. Since then, the stewardship of your holdings has alternated every generation. We currently are in charge till my death. Then the stewardship will return to Hurricane’s control. Six hundred years of dealings on a hoofshake.” The baron smiled sadly. “Alas, my House’s power has been waning these last three years. And as I said, House Stanley and House Crane wish to wrest the lands from both of our control. If House Blueblood falls and is split up, their combined assets with the clanless hirelings could overwhelm Hurricane’s forces. You saw the state of the guards. While Hurricane is the most prepared, I doubt any of us could face a full on noble war.”
Pensword sat calmly as he listened. Amazing, he thought, how convoluted a thousand years of politics could cause things to become. However, something didn’t quite feel right. There had to be a trump card. Blueblood was too cunning not to have one. He looked to his mate to gauge her reaction and thoughts as she prepared to speak.
“You're threatening to not return Pensword’s lands?” Lunar Fang’s face was stony as she looked on the noble. “Baron, you are by far the stupidest upstart we have had to deal with.” She looked to Pensword. ”Shall I call the guards and begin the process for treason against Equestria? Or would you prefer a summary execution?”
“Not from me, Commandante Lunar Fang.” Blueblood answered. “I am merely warning and advising Pensword of the current situation. He could have a dragon defend the pass and the lands. And he could easily have his clan and fellow Thestrals fight off the invaders. But why should we even have a war? He can reveal all the facts he wants after he gains full control of his lands. I do plan on returning them to him well and in tact.” He turned to Pensword as his expression softened.
“It was never my intention to hold on to what is yours by conquest and birth. I only wished to give you a greater idea of the big picture. Doing anything rash, or allowing the Thestrals to try and contact the noble houses who married ancestors of their clans could cause problems. Those places have seen enough bloodshed and I wish only to prevent further conflict. After you have regained full control and possession of your lands, you can do whatever it is you wish. You may even reveal the forgotten mother of House Bloodblood. The lands you have full right to are coveted due to the historic nature and the wealth held in both physical and trade value.” He looked to Lunar Fang. “Which House Hurricane and Blueblood have only shared point five percent between us, I might add. The rest has been stored by Princess Celestia for your return, either mined by the Thestrals, or even untouched and unmined for you and your mate to decide what to do.”
“Be wary of your words, Baron,” Lunar Fang said, turning her lips up just enough enough to bare that famed smile only a Thestral could pull off: as friendly as it was frightening. “You may end up finding out what happened to the last house who crossed us.”
Pensword remained sitting, his look pensive. At last, he broke the silence. “I think I will keep my mouth shut.” The baron looked relieved. “But, only if you promise that in six month’s time the lands will be fully handed over to my care and control.”
A smile crossed the lips of Baron Blueblood. “I can accept that. In six months you shall be in full control of your birthplace, as well as the Fort that made you famous.” His eyes twinkled. “I hope you have a successor picked for your role in House Strike. The adopted son of Hurricane shall soon have his own landed position. It would be very unlikely to remain captain of the guard to another noble.”
“I do. And it does not involve House Blueblood, nor House Hurricane.” Pensword spoke simply.
“Something that is understandable. You have not been around either house long enough to trust them fully.” Baron Blueblood replied with that same smile.
“I think it’s time we left this meeting,” Lunar fang said. “We have business to take care of.” As they left the grounds Lunar Fang looked to Pensword, her gaze confused. “Why would you agree?”
“Because, it will cement his plans and ambitions faster. You saw his worry over the two minor houses. Also, the sooner the lands fall under my control, the sooner I can have forces loyal only to me or my clan guarding it.” Pensword smiled a little. “I also think that by the time I reveal this skeleton of a Thestral being part of the starting house, House Stanley and House Crane might suddenly find themselves minor houses to House Blueblood.” He looked to the walls of the estate. “The lands gained from that most likely will outweigh the loss of the lands his house has stewardship over.”
“What are your plans then? You know neither the Lion Tribe, nor the council of chiefs will accept you withholding such information.”
“It is not withholding information, it is giving time for the nobles to prepare to greet lost family.” He spoke diplomatically. “We will cause enough mayhem with the introduction of Thestrals en masse into Canterlot after our journey. We need to give time for things to settle down before we rock the nobility to the core.”
He turned his head to look at Lunar Fang. “I do not want families to purge their lines. On Earth, we have faced ethnic purges before: complete destruction of villages and homes due to a change of religion.” His eyes suddenly looked haggard and haunted. “I do not want the Gryphons of a thousand years ago to win because of nobles falling upon one another. The news will get out. But six months will give all houses time to prepare, build walls, and hopefully do things more rationally. Imagine if enemies of Equestria saw the nobility under Princess Luna and Celestia suddenly having to deal with rioting and a quasi civil war. It could bring invaders.” He paused at the gates. “We are not ready at all for that.”
“Very well.” Lunar Fang sighed. “I just hate it when a self absorbed parasprite like that wins in the end”
“Who said he won?” Pensword muttered with a smile, his fangs glinting. “You forget just who is loyal on those lands. If anything, he is making it look like he won when really, he is cutting his losses.” He pulled his wife into a hug and kissed her on the muzzle. “Remember who is currently living on those lands, knows them inside and out, can live off less than a normal pony, and live in caves if needed.” He nuzzled her at the base of her ear. “I see this as a victory, as those lands shall become Equestrian in six months, fully integrated by High Chieftess Luna’s words.”
Pensword flapped his wings and looked Lunar Fang in the eyes as the two rose together. “On the surface, Blueblood looks like he won, but really, did you hear the resources we have untapped there? He knows he cannot win if a war breaks out. The Thestrals have it fortified and Haymin lives up there.” He settled on the road back into Canterlot as they approached the gates. “What he has won was a balm to his ego. Nothing more.” he turned around and flicked his tail at her playfully. “Still, it wouldn’t hurt to keep an eye on him.”
Hammer Strike had paused his work as he looked at Pensword, Lunar Fang, Blast Shield, and Tower Shield. They all stood waiting on his words. For today, the duty of Captain of the Guard would pass from Pensword to a new pony. The only thing anypony knew was that the finalist for the position was in the room. Other than that, no pony knew who Hammer Strike had picked to replace Pensword.
“Lord-” Blast Shield cleared his throat and tried again, remembering his orders. “Hammer Strike, we have something for you.” He looked uncertainly to his brother. Tower Shield nodded.
“And that would be?” Hammer Strike asked with a raised brow.
The two brothers stepped forward in unison and produced a pair of envelopes, each engraved with a steady script on the covers. “Our letters of resignation, sir. We are not fit to be your guards after all that has happened.”
“What makes you say that?” He asked.
“We allowed you to enter that place unguarded, unprotected-”
“And as a result, you nearly died. True, it was history, but that is no excuse.” the two brothers said, their countenances grave.
“Yes, history noted it, but there were other reasons for this. I didn’t bother to bring you both on that wild adventure because it was going to last thirty seven years,” Hammer Strike replied. “I accepted this as a cost to retrieve Pensword and Grif back from the sands of time. Lunar Fang was needed in this, but you both did not need to torture yourselves away from family and others for such a length.”
“Sir … it was our duty.” The two looked staunchly on him. “Our ancestors would expect nothing less. We fell short.” Blast Shield looked his lord in the eye, determined, albeit tearful.
“Lost Shield and Strike Shield would expect you both to push past that and stop worrying about a mistake you didn’t make.” Hammer Strike replied.
“I will agree with that, I met those two,” Pensword said as he broke rank. “They would expect you to do the jobs you both swore to do in this time period. The Shields have in fact protected House Strike from at least the Third Gryphon War. Thine honor is still untarnished and it gleams with thine actions this day, a testament to thy fierce loyalty and love.” His eyes narrowed. “As letters of resignation need first pass through me before reaching Hammer Strike, I hereby claim these and deny your resignation.”
The two brothers stared, slack jawed at the pegasus. “Say what, now?”
“And that there, is the reason for my choice.” Hammer Strike started up again. “You two have both shown that you are loyal enough to try and resign because of an error. Therefore, in recognition of such love for your Lord, I am assigning you both as the new Captains of my guard.”
The two brothers’ jaws dropped once again. “You’re what?” Tower Shield asked.
“But, sir, this is highly irregular. It goes against every code and regulation.” Blast Shield protested. Tower quickly fell in line next to him, nodding his head vigorously.
“And as you both know, I don’t follow the customs other nobles do.” Hammer Strike smirked. “You’ll both work perfectly for the job.”
“But … but, sir!” The two said in unison.
“No buts about it.” Hammer Strike cut them off. “Don’t quote regulations to me. Pensword wrote half of them and then gave them to me verbally.”
“I did.” Pensword replied, looking rather pleased with himself before frowning a little. “I might have to rewrite them again. Half of what I wrote must be outdated.” He chuckled a little. “So do not quote them at all. They might just be changing in the near future.”
“Sir, we … we don’t know what to say.” Blast shield said, his eyes shining with tears.
“Well, how about a yes? Then I will officially hand over the duties of my office to the two of you, and we can have some cake to celebrate. Of course, then it’ll be back to duty and normal routine,” Pensword said.
“Sounds about right,” Hammer Strike said, nodding in agreement. “Well, this was a nice break, though after this I’ll have to get back to work for the next seventy two hours or so.”
Pensword stood and pulled an old medal from his armor. “As pertaining to the traditions of Military Officers of Noble Houses, I, Pensword of the House of Pen, do hereby relinquish the symbol of my power and authority over those that swear allegiance to thy house and to thy military orders.” He waited for Hammer Strike to take the medal before giving a sharp salute. The medal was a simple gold disk with Hammer Strike’s cutie mark stamped into it. The fabric sash it hung from was the same color as his main coat and the middle stripe the color of his mane.
“I thank you for the services you have performed in my house.” Hammer Strike said, taking the medal from Pensword. He then turned to face the two Shield brothers. “It will be an even greater pleasure having you both serve in my noble house, commanders.” Hammer Strike said to the brothers. Reaching into his coat, he withdrew a second medal identical to the first. After a moment of dramatic silence, he held it out to the brothers.
“Th-thank you, sir.” Tower Shield said as the two brothers pinned the medals to their breasts. Then they turned to their lord, gave a formal salute … and promptly passed out.
“Well then.” Hammer Strike said aloud. “We should probably move them.”
“Well, they took it better than I thought.” Pensword muttered, looking towards Lunar Fang. She smiled, a merry twinkle playing in her eye. “They only fainted. No yelling or screaming.”
“Let’s move them to the forge, they’ll eventually wake up to the sound of metal hitting bone, and/or more metal.” Hammer Strike said as he shrugged.
“Agreed. Come on Lunar Fang, a little help, please.” Pensword spoke as he took one of the guards’ forehooves. “We can put both of them on Hammer Strike’s back.”
Grif stood alone in his tower, looking out over the grounds. Shrial was eating with the troops. The journey had been uneventful and the castle was coming along well. Sylvio had started to grow… a lot. The once timber wolf pup was now half the size of Grif and looking a few ponies in the eye. Currently, things were peaceful. Now was the time for something that Grif had been putting off for far too long. Laying down in the tower, the gryphon slowed his breathing and concentrated, cutting his mind off from everything around him. He found himself once again within his mental space, but there was no longer an armory or library. The entire area had been blanked. Even Deadpool was gone from the space he always seemed to occupy. The gryphon looked upon the only other being present with a sigh.
“I suppose it’s time?” Grif looked down at Taze. “Funny. I never thought I’d find an ending here.”
Taze laughed “It’s an ending no one needs to know about.” He looked around. “Besides, it’s only a technical death. We’ll still be alive in a fashion. Just not in this fashion.” The human cracked his neck muscles. “Besides, it’s worth it isn’t it?”
“Yeah.” Grif sighed. Before the two, a single image appeared, the smiling face of a certain gryphoness. “You think she’ll notice?”
“When whoever it is starts sprouting off poetry, I think she’ll get the picture.” Taze laughed. “You’re many things, my friend, but you're no scholar.”
“So…. How do we do this?” Grif asked after a moment of silence.
“I’m not sure, but I would guess we simply will ourselves together. We could always do the fusion dance if you need a visual aid,” Taze offered.
“For the last time, warriors do not dance like that,” Grif said. “... and no earrings either.”
“I told you, we don’t do that kind of jewelry. Rings or chains only. Nothing pierces this flesh,” Taze said. “Though I guess even that’s gonna be his choice from now on, isn’t it?”
“Yeah….” Grif said. “Well … I geuss, on three?”
Taze nodded. “One ...” he said as his form began to ripple, the colours becoming muted.
“Two...” Grif followed suit as their colors completely vanished, leaving two silhouettes.
“Three...” Their voices echoed across the empty chasm that was their mind as the two silhouettes drifted into each other, the shadows mixing and separating chaotically when they collided. This would carry on over the next several hours as the forms shifted and altered, building and destroying, adding and subtracting.
Finally, as in the outside world the barest hint of sun rays appeared on the horizons, the silhouettes took the form of a single strange beast. Digitigrade lion paws replaced feet and taloned hands grew from the sum of two parts. Green feathers flourished across the chest as black fur and feathers blanketed the form. A harsh predatory beak grew from its face. It sat there, breathing deeply for a time, as if gaining mastery over itself. Finally, the eye’s snapped open.
Grif looked out at the sunrise carefully, his mind had never contemplated such a beautiful thing in all his life as he waited for the gryphoness beside him to rouse from her sleep.
Shrial breathed a heavy sigh, snuggling contentedly against Grif’s soft feathers. “I love you so much,” she mumbled in her sleep, not aware she was speaking aloud.
Grif’s heart jumped hearing those words. Ever so gently he sounded the robin call into her ear. Familiar with this ritual by now, Shiral's eyes snapped open, a contented smile on her beak as she looked into Grif’s beautiful eyes. The fight of dark and light blue were gone. In their place the light blue swirled peacefully in tune with the dark, a tiny speck of dark blue at the head of the light and a mirror of light at the head of the dark.
"To see one so radiant next to the sunrise and that sunrise to not know how lucky it should be to look down in burning jealousy at the beauty of thee." The gryphon spoke lightly. His voice lacked the harsher backtone Grif’s always seemed to carry.
"It finally happened, didn't it?" Shrial asked as she looked at Grif with worry, and a little sadness.
He looked at her with a blank face. "What happened, dove?" he asked. "The only thing that has happened of note is I woke up to see something extravagant. And then a somewhat pretty sunrise followed afterwards."
She kissed him, staring into that endless pool of swirling color, a perfect balance of light and darkness. "You two finally merged. Your eyes are calm."
"Two?" he asked once again, confused as he gently pulled her closer. "What two do you mean?"
"Taze and Grif, she said. His brows furrowed in confusion. "You do remember being separate, don't you?"
"I am Taze, I am Grif. The separation is only an illusion for the ponies," Grif said "Didn't we talk about this? I can be kinda absent minded at times, so don't worry if we haven't. Thats my fault. There is no wall, there is no separation, there's just me: the clumsy ashen crow who blots out the light of your radiant beauty." He smiled then.
"Flattery will get you nowhere, dear. Except maybe here." She pulled Grif in for another kiss. "That was no act, Grif. I saw it. And while I do love you, that makes me worry all the more. Tell me, what happened last night?"
"I ..." Grif concentrated, the process almost painful. "We needed to die. We needed to not be so I could be no more we. No more two minds breaking apart … giving in" he grasped his head. "never apart ... never again."
Shrial took his talons gently and pulled them down. Love and concern shone in her eyes as she spoke in her calmer tone. "Now that wasn't so hard, was it? You need to be willing to admit these things to yourself. If that's what happened, don't try to block it out; own it. Besides; the others have the right to know."
"I told Hammer Strike ... Pensword will be able to tell." The male gryphon took his hands from Shrials and held them to his head as he tried to regain order in his mind.
"How can you have told Hammer Strike if this only just happened? Or did you decide to do something risky without telling me?" Shrial asked, her voice turning testy.
"Told him I would be different. I told him the person up here may not be the same, but he is always his friend," Grif said "... Not dangerous, not risky. Minds were already merging. Too complex to be put back together. Had to be broken down and remade as one. There was no other way" His voice began to slow down as he got his breathing under control. The shock and pain of the ordeal was almost over now.
"You'd better be telling me the truth, Grif Grafson. If you're not I'll give you a beating you won't soon forget." Shrial said, glaring him in the eye.
The gryphon lifted his head, the panic gone from behind those eyes as he scooped her up and hugged her. "I can't lie to you. I, we, they changed that. Never again can I lie to you."
She giggled. "Never say never, Grif. It might come back to bite you." Then she kissed him once more.
Grif smiled at her as he whistled the first notes to an old gryphon song. "I'll swim and sail on savage seas, with ne’er a fear of drowning," He moved to his bag and withdrew one of the signet rings from it before turning back to her. "And gladly ride the waves of life-" he lowered himself down as he held up the ring. "If you would marry me.” He looked at her large swirling eyes, hopeful, “No scorching sun, nor freezing cold will stop me on my journey. If you will promise me your heart, and love..." he trailed off as the tradition dictated.
She looked back into his eyes. A soft, unguarded look glowed as the morning rays played on her face. Fear, sorrow, guilt, happiness, and love raged within her, much like the savage seas of the ancient tune. She stood there, frozen in place as Grif kept her gaze. When she still did not respond, his head fell and he began to pull back the ring. Shrial’s heat nearly broke at the sight. It was beating so fast. But she knew if she did nothing, she would regret it the rest of her days. The first notes came out raspy, choked, and quiet, but soon gained strength as she steadily rolled along. A strong lilt slowly came to her voice as she sang along. "And love me for eternity. My dearest one, my darling dear, your mighty words astound me. But I've no need of mighty deeds when I feel your arms around me." Tears stood in her eyes.
Grif started and turned to her again, his own heart beating in his throat as his voice changed in tone and pacing. Slowly, he slid the ring onto her talon. "But I would bring you rings of gold, I'd even read you poetry, and i would keep you safe from harm if you would stay beside me" Their eyes met and they smiled then as Grif began to twirl Shrial in his arms.
Shrial smiled at her love as her voice began to increase the tempo. "I have no use for rings of gold. I care not for your poetry. I only want your hand to hold ..."
"I only want you near me" Seemingly effortlessly, Grif threw her into the air and caught her in his arms. The two danced to the invisible tune as they sang together. "To love, to kiss, to sweetly hold, for the dancing and the dreaming; through all life's sorrows and delights i'll keep your love inside me. I'll swim and sail on savage seas with ne'er a fear a of drowning and gladly ride the waves of life if you would marry me!" At the end, Grif stood holding her above his head and as they held the final note he brought her down to him and kissed her.
Shrial couldn't help but laugh, then cocked her head, confused. "I could have sworn I heard someone else holding that note after we finished." She shook her head. "Must be imagining things. Well now, my dearly betrothed. How shall we celebrate our engagement?" she asked with a mischievous glint in her eye.
"Should I lock the door?" he asked, wiggling his eyebrows mischievously.
"Well, now. That depends entirely on what you have planned, love." She said, wrapping her arms around his neck.
Grif laughed as he locked the door. The two didn't make a public appearance until lunch was already underway. Grif notably had minor scratches along his back and Shrial seemed busy preening herself all day. Neither of the two would say anything about where they had been.
“Names?” The pony asked from behind the glass counter, his hoof resting on a pile of application sheets. His coat stood out a darker grey with a hint of purple, his mane more of a pure grey. He wore a simple white button shirt with a brown vest to accentuate his frame and his gold framed glasses lay on the tip of his nose as he peered over them at the two ponies before him.
“Pensword.” The pegasus with the tufted ears replied. He was dressed in a white shirt, black bowtie, a jacket, and a top hat. He smiled a little. One could see his Navy blue coat with white mane and tail. His ice blue eyes had a twinkle to them as he looked to the mare at his side.
“Is that your full legal name, sir?”
“No.” Pensword muttered. “My Full name is Pensword Hurricane of the Dream Clan of the Bear Tribe.”
The pony’s eyes widened briefly. “Ah. You are that Pensword. And may I ask who this lovely young lady is?” The clerk said as he hastily opened a dusty drawer and pulled out a new form with more space. He hastily scrawled out the long name. “It’s a good thing we leave these old forms for the thestral weddings. Princes Luna insisted on it after the Thestrals were integrated the first time.” He winked at the pair through his lenses, his old grey eyes glinting.
“Lieutenant Colonel Moonshade of the Lunar Guard” Moonshade said, taking a moment to fully remember her old name.
“You know, young lady, you are one lucky Thestral. It’s not every day that a mare gets to marry a stallion like Pensword. I’m sure half the kingdom will be jealous.” He smiled good naturedly. “Oh, and by the way, congratulations on the clearing of those charges.”
“Thank you.” Pensword replied. “Let’s just say that Lunar Fang is insisting that I marry Moonshade,” he muttered.
“Say no more, say no more. I am familiar with Thestral Lore well enough.” The pony said, raising a hoof. “So, who are to be your witnesses? I will need to include their names on the document, and they will need to sign afterwards to make it official. A judge can have you two married shortly thereafter, but you know how it is. Paperwork. All things must have order after all.”
Pensword rose a wing only for Moonshade to smack it back down. “I think they have to be living to count.” Pensword made an O shape with his muzzle as a bashful look crossed his facial features.
“What are we going to do?” Moonshade whispered.
“I do not know, Moonshade.” Pensword muttered to her. A name he had almost forgotten. It felt strange calling her that, even though it was the name she was born with. He looked up and around. “Grif is back in Ponyville. So are Shrial and Rarity. Hammer Strike is busy in the forge and the Princesses are both in meetings.” He blushed. “I completely forgot about the need for witnesses.”
“Maybe you two should look around the historical society?” the official noted. “I’m sure they would be honored to help you.”
“Right.” Pensword muttered and paused. “Uh, dear, do you or the official behind the glass know where the Historical Society meets?”
“Two halls down first door on your right,” the old pony noted.
“Thank you.” Moonshade replied as the two turned around and followed the directions. They soon arrived at the door and they paused to look at one another. They nodded and they both pushed the door open. Wall upon wall of book and empty display cases greeted them as light filtered in through the dusty skylights and windows overhead. Ancient tapestries hung side by side, decorating the walls as they depicted images of Celestia, Star Swirl, a zebra with a unicorn in a strange land, and many others, including earth pony surrounded by three minotaurs. Pensword scrunched his eyebrows as he moved in for a closer look. “Is that …?”
“Hello. Can I help you?” an old dusty voice spoke up from behind a shelf. Books, artifacts, scrolls, weapons, and tablets levitated through the air as a head peeked around the corner. The mare’s grey mane curled around her old face as she smiled, her horn glowing an earthy brown.
Pensword jumped, hovering in the air and ready to strike until he realized that the voice was coming from a civilian. He slowly dropped back to the ground and chuckled sheepishly. “Well,” he started, “We are looking for some witnesses for a marriage license. All our friends have either got prior meetings in Canterlot or had to return to their homes by train this morning.” He chuckled a little, embarrassed at the turn of events as a flush rose in his cheeks. “May we have a little help?”
The mare flicked her head and the cases opened. In a matter of seconds the artifacts zoomed into place before gently settling in their stands, an old staff went last of all, decorated with all manner of carvings and runes. A crystal lay at its crown as it set itself horizontally in the air. Then it slowly descended onto the two supports designed for it before the light died and the case shut itself with a satisfying click. She smiled. “It belonged to Starswirl the Bearded, or so the legends say. Nopony could authenticate it, so it’s just a nice trinket to draw the younger unicorns in.”
“That’s amazing!” Pensword zipped up to the case before Lunar Fang reigned him back in with a wing to the back.
“The wedding, dear, remember?”
“Oh, yes.” He laughed a little hesitantly. “Sorry. You know how I am with history.”
“Yes, dear, I know. Now let’s see what this pony has to say to our request before we get lost in all of this, hmm?”
“That is a bit of an unusual request to make here. What's your name, friend?” A deeper voice asked from behind. It may have been old, it still held strength. This time it was Lunar Fang’s turn to jump.
Pensword snickered a little, then paused and looked to his mate, a mischievous grin on his muzzle. “Pensword,” He replied.
A double thump was heard followed by mumbled curses as two ponies rushed where the ponies stood. The unicorn mare got up first, her grey mane and tail askew. Her tan fur was accented by her cutie mark, a black tablet with white writing. The other pony was a full grey stallion with the cutie mark of a scroll. While he had aged, his body still had a toned appearance and his mane stood full and well kept. Pensword could tell just by looking at him that this pony had been trained. “Commander Pensword?” the mare asked.
Pensword rose an eyebrow. “Well, yes.” He moved to show his cutie mark. “Though you seem to run just at the name. Surely there are those that have a name similar to mine.” He looked to the Historians. “Why rush so quickly?”
“We had heard you were back, but we haven’t been able to get ahold of you for an interview,” the mare told him. “Those brutes wouldn’t so much as let us near the castle,” she said, snorting as she shook her mane back into position. The stallion stepped next to her protectively and nodded in agreement.
“You know how some from the empire can be. They offered to give us plenty of ‘facts,’ but somehow I doubt they would have been accurate.” The stallion said flatly.
Pensword nodded in agreement. “They still hate me for defeating them in a war they had no right to begin in the first place.” Moonshade put a wing around him and he slowly calmed down. Then he looked at the two historians, a playful glint in his eye. “Well, if you are willing to be witnesses to our license, I think I can give you, oh, an hour or so for an interview if you wish?” he offered, smiling as he nuzzled his “bride to be.”
“Of course,” the stallion said hastily, his hoof twitching before he stopped it. Pensword smiled good naturedly. The mare stepped up and excitement shone in her eyes, granting a new look of youth to her old face.
“Princess Celestia has never given much information and any insights to the war could be amazing for Equestrian history. We’ll do it.”
“Then it is a done deal. Please follow me.” He shook his head. “This will make a good story to tell the foals.” He chuckled and hugged Lunar Fang with a wing as they walked.
“You found a new mare, then?” the stallion asked. “This is going to cause a media scandal. I am Elder Script, by the way. And this is my assistant, Cipher.”
Pensword laughed. “Well,” he looked around. “I wouldn’t just come to the future without my mate if I had a choice. Nasty problem is that the media insists that she is dead, so we are just using an old name she picked up that is not considered deceased.” He chuckled. “I am all for obeying the law, but if it means having to forego my wife and mate, a little detour is in order.” His muzzle twitched.
“An interesting conundrum. But this isn’t the first time.” Cipher laughed “There was one lord who married seven times to the same mare.”
“What?” Pensword asked with a raised eyebrow. “Please, do tell. I think I would enjoy this story.” He chuckled a little. “What caused him to marry the same mare seven times?”
“He was married to an explorer,” Elder Script explained. “She had a tendency to be gone so long people declared her dead. Every time she proved them wrong, he would be waiting for her. He married her using a name from a different language every time.”
“That is rather romantic. What was the name of this explorer?” he asked as they reached the doors to the marriage office once more. The stallion and mare laughed.
Pensword caught on quickly and began to chuckle. “You two?” he asked with another chuckle. “Of all the Historians in all the places in Equestria.” he muttered paraphrasing a quote from a rather famous scene. He paused and face hoofed. “Oh? Oh dear.” He shook his head. “Great at seeing a map and giving a battle. But seeing the hole I just trotted into ....” He shook his head. “Well, what was the last name used by the Explorer?”
“Northern Compass” Cipher said. “That was her birth name.”
“Why does that name sound familiar?” Moonshade muttered as they entered the room. Any further discussion of the topic was placed on hold for the other important ceremony at hoof.
“What hit us?” Blast Shield rubbed his head as he slowly got to his hooves.
“The floor,” He heard a voice answer.
“Ha ha.” Blast Shield said, looking at his brother. “I had the weirdest dream that we got promoted.”
“That was real.” Hammer Strike answered again, still working on the metal before him.
“Oh…”
“Congratulations. Now I would suggest waking up your brother.”
Blast Shield shook Tower carefully. “Come on, wake up”
Tower groaned in his sleep. “Five more minutes …”
“Tower how are we going to look commanding Lord Hammer Strike’s forces if you sleep on duty?” Blast Shield scolded.
“Like a very intimidating sleeper.” Tower groaned as he clopped to all fours. “So that wasn’t a dream?”
“No.” Hammer Strike answered again.
“Great. So what do you want us to do now, sir? We can’t exactly leave you unguarded.”
“Tower, maybe you should see if we can get more help from the family?” Blast Shield asked. “I can stay here with Lord Hammer Strike.”
Tower chuckled. “Who’d have thought we’d be following in our ancestors’ hoofprints… literally?”
“Grandpa Buckler should be ecstatic, he was always talking about this.” Blast Shield smiled.
“He’d go ballistic if he knew. Think I’ll bring him along. He’d be honored to meet the genuine article.” Tower winked as he slowly plodded out the door. “Still can’t believe he did that,” he muttered, his voice carrying back into the forge as he clopped away.
“Is there anything you need, L- Hammer Strike?” Blast Shield asked, just barely catching himself at the last minute.
“Not at the moment.” Another “tink” went through the air as Hammer Strike struck the heated metal again. Pulling it up he looked at it before giving a small nod. “You’re free to do as you wish. I’ll honestly be here for hours, if not days.” He sighed. “Repairing the armor I made a thousand years ago, only for Celestia to let it decay…”
“If you made it a thousand years ago and it’s still in one piece that's still something to be proud of,” the guard offered.
“True. Though I would have prefered it to last longer due to it being made from the bones of an Ursa.” He frowned. “And weeks worth of shaping ... almost no breaks besides to eat something. Oh yes, and around seven broken anvils.”
“At least you have that hardened diamondized anvil now,” he offered. “They take quite a bit of punishment before they…”
A loud discordant clang boomed through the room as the anvil fractured, breaking apart at the force Hammer Strike was using to reshape the bone plates. He stared at the anvil for a moment before looking to Blast. “Well then.”
“...Should I get you a new one?” Blast Shield asked.
“See if they can bring a few…”
Pensword took a calming breath of air. Moonshade was waiting back at their room. He still felt giddy over that word. “Their” room. He was sharing a room with his wife and mate. But now she was back under her old name and they had been married a second time. At least till Lunar Fang could be declared living again. He paused and moved a hoof to rub his nose as he stopped in the park in Canterlot. He paused as he looked at one of the statues of Celestia. She was in a resting pose to present shade for any tired travelers on their way through. The amazing thing about Canterlot was that despite being a big city, small parks and green spaces sprung up all over the land. It seemed that nature and progress existed in perfect harmony here. He paused at an empty park bench and sat down like a normal pony. He let out a snort of relief as he finally got to relax. At last, things were beginning to feel like they were going back to normal. His life couldn’t have been better.
A loud shrieking sound echoed through the park as something made its way towards pensword. A large male gryphon with deep brown feathers and grey fur bee lined for him.
Pensword’s mind clicked and he moved a little, it was a small shift but instead of relaxing and being calm, he would be able to act. His eyes looking at the Gryphon. A wing moved in case he had to use his officer blade. He knew not to run just yet, he was going to see what this was, as Gryphons used sounds to intimidate others into reacting or winning without bloodshed. At least that’s what Grif had told him.
The gryphon stopped before him. Its larger frame indicated he was a male and his voice soon confirmed it. “You!” he growled. “You have insulted my people and my race and I will have satisfaction,” the gryphon said pulling a glove from his red leather vest and tossing it to the ground at Pensword’s feet.
Pensword raised an eyebrow. “Are you actually challenging me to a duel?” He moved to stand up on the bench. “Which laws are you following?” He moved to step down and pick up the glove. “How serious of a fight?” He paused and chuckled. “Oh, smart Gryphons.” he muttered. “Putting me on trial opened up the dueling laws … or rather, the laws from a thousand years ago.” He chuckled as he picked up the glove with a wing and held it waiting for the Gryphon to state what he was going to do.
“Be back here at nine o’clock this evening, as the injured party, I will supply the weapons. Bring a second. You’ll need one.” The gryphon sneered once more before snatching the glove. He turned smartly before launching into the air.
“Well, that’s that.” Pensword muttered as his mind already began to work. “I better inform Luna, as she is my High Chiefess. I guess I should also inform Lord Hammer Strike, Lunar Fang …” he put a hoof to his chin. “Better write a letter to Grif informing him that we may be open for duels in the near future.” He turned to the entrance of the park and trotted away at a pace that would get him to his destination in a timely manner. As he continued, he realized he had kept another old habit from his human days and he chuckled at the memory of his near constant speed walking. He laughed a while longer before his facial features turned flat. He would have to find his friends, and find a second.
Grif looked at Silver Spear and Black Rook from across the table. In front of him a parchment lay weighted down on its corners by inkwells. He gazed on the general sketch of the palace layout. “Gentlecolts,” Grif nodded to the unicorn and earth pony. “As Lord Hammer Strike, Commander Pensword, and Lunar Fang are still in Canterlot, we three are the current administrative heads within New Unity. That being said, I think it’s time to discuss where to start our rebuilding process.” Grif traced his talons over the sides of the gate. “Rook, I want you to get to work on the turrets and the insides of the walls. I want to be able to have our defenses planted within the next two weeks. Do you think you can have some of the unicorns carve additional archer slots facing the inner courtyard as well as the outside?”
“Of Course,” Black Rook replied with a nod of his head. “I’ll get those going as quick as I can. Permission to pull at least two architects off their projects to work on this as well?”
“Sorry, let me clarify this,” Grif said. “We have four principal duties in this fortress for the foreseeable future.” He held up a talon with all four claws splayed outwards. “Night watch,” he withdrew the back claw. “Kitchen detail,” he withdrew his far right claw. “Restoration,” he withdrew the middle one. “And finally, supply.” He closed his fist. “Until you are told otherwise, you have authority to pull any necessary resources to accomplish these tasks. Is that clear?”
Black Rook nodded, maintaining silence as Silver Spear moved to speak.
“Crystal clear, sir. I can begin work on restoring the kitchens immediately. I’ll ask Mrs. Cake for some expert advice. She’d know her way around a kitchen.”
“Actually, Silver Spear, I want you to take a copy of our old maps and as many troops as you need and begin marking salvageable areas from Old Unity. The flags will be marked for what they are to represent. It isn’t likely we will be capable of containing everything within the fortress and I would like to know which, if any, of the former best areas survived,” Grif said. “We have the necessary facilities to feed ourselves currently and fixing the kitchen would, at this time, be a frivolous use of resources.” He looked at the map. “Silver Spear, while the Gryphon Slayers hold more experience, Matthew’s troops know you better. Until Pensword’s return you’re going to need to be on top of keeping peace between both sides. Are you up too this task or should I assign you some help?”
Silver Spear paused a moment, considering. “I … I think I can manage it, sir. If I need help, I’ll ask the troops first. If we can’t settle things together, we’ll fall back and return and report.”
“The next thing is, while you each are handling these tasks, I want you to pick lesser officers within your groups and amongst the Hot Coals. Sort them into squads of three, five and seven. Then set a rotation for them. Every morning, seven go to archery practice. The rest will stay and work. Every afternoon five will perform basic drill maneuvers while the rest work, and every evening three will stand wall guard to the north, three to the south, three to the west, and three to the east. Keep an eye on their condition. Anyone who looks overly tired, sick, or injured should be dismissed to rest immediately. I don’t want any major accidents until Pensword and Hammer Strike return. Preferably none at all. Every Saturday we will take stock of our inventory to resupply. Am I clear, gentlecolts?”
“Yes sir!” The two shouted in unison.
“Now, do you have any concerns before we end this meeting?” Grif asked.
“I recall that Matthew, err, Pensword mentioned that Gryphons use these ruins as a rest stop. What are we to do if we encounter any incoming Gryphons? Other than getting the Gryphon Slayers under cover, I mean.” He appeared to be very serious about hiding the Gryphon Slayers. And for obvious reasons. “Also, what do you want us to have them do at the moment? Or do you have orders just for them?” Black Rook asked Grif.
“If gryphons are sighted, you are to come and alert me. Don’t let it seem like you're on alert. Get some archers in the hidden hollows and have them ready to fire on my signal. We don’t spill blood if we don’t need to, but we aren’t stupid either. As for the gryphon slayers, they will hopefully be coming to meet with me when you leave. I don’t intend to step on Pensword’s toes if i can avoid it and if his men do not wish to listen too me, then I will place them off duty until his return.”
“Uh, Pensword doesn’t have toes.” Black replied. “Horse shoes might be a better phrase. Sir.” he added at the end. “I know Matthew has toes.” The Earth Pony shook his head. “Very well, I shall begin on the tasks at hoof.” He waited to be dismissed.
Grif looked to Silver Spear. “Anything you need to know, Spear?”
“No, sir. Black Rook and I should be able to manage well. Is there anything else you need from us, sir?”
“Just keep safe, boys. We have a lot of work ahead of us and we're likely to need you two more then ever.” He saluted with his right fist to his left shoulder. “Dismissed.”
The two saluted, turned, and left the room, leaving Grif alone for a brief moment before his ears picked up the sound of the Gryphon Slayers marching to meet him. Well, to put it accurately, the sounds of only one set of hooves. He only needed to meet with the second in command to relay the orders.
“Fox Feather. Welcome,” Grif nodded to the pony.
The Pegasus mare with the coloration of a fox nodded her head. “Grif,” She muttered. “You wish to speak to me on behalf of Lord Hammer Strike?” She frowned. “I guess we are temporarily under his house till the Equestrian Army is reinstated. Seeing as we are really all that remains of soldiers in this time period.”
“I asked you here because I can’t tell you when Pensword will be returning to Unity, but it could be some time yet. I need to know if the Gryphon Slayers stand with me looking after things here.” Grif said casually.
“We trust thee and your female companion as the only trustworthy Gryphons. We also know as a group that thou art favored by Lord Hammer Strike and trained his forces of Mercenaries. For the time being, thou hast the cooperation of the Gryphon Slayers.”
“And would you be against being split up to help with training the troops? Your skills are invaluable and we have reports of gryphon mercenaries that may be making their way through the area. As I’m sure you remember, well trained archers are the best preemptive measure against gryphons.”
“The last thing Commander Pensword did was field promote us to lieutenants for that purpose. We are not opposed to be splitting up for training the plebs. However, should we come under attack we shall be forming up again and fight as a unit.” she told him, her voice hard. “We will not negotiate on that point.”
“I would not ask any different save that for the sake of the times we try diplomacy before battle is joined. Politics and laws are somewhat different now. And I would not have unnecessary blood on my talons.”
“Very well. However, if they attack and kill any of the ponies in this camp, we shall meet them on the field of battle and show why the Gryphon Slayers were feared by the end of the war.” She replied unblinking as she stared Grif down.
“Now, if I may ask. Aside from Pensword and Lord Hammer Strike’s opinions, how do you see me?” Grif asked. “And don’t lie. I have sensed latent hostility from you before, this meeting just being the latest occasion.”
“How do I see thee?” She asked. “A friend of the Commander’s, as well as the face of an enemy that we fought. I see your face and I cannot help but have flashbacks to the war: to the towns we ran across, the camps, ... what we found inside them.” She shivered before narrowing her eyes. “I know the Gryphons have changed. However, it is hard for us to change. Equestria seems to have forgotten the third war except for dusty history and tall tales.” She frowned. “But thou alone, I see as a friend and a Gryphon I want on our side, never to face against.” She paused. “You want full honesty?” Grif nodded in return. “I see thee as a rival; a means to show that ponies could fight as hard as Gryphons, and as a female, of that time,” She hesitated as if saying that unnerved her. “That I could outwit and ‘outfox,’ as the Commander said, any of my opponents.”
“Very well.” Grif nodded. “Should the gryphon lawyers have any major concerns with how things go from here, or any problems, please don’t be afraid to hunt me down. And remember the war. Keep remembering it. These troops, I fear, may be in this more for glory than for merely defending their homeland. They need to be reminded time and time again that war is hell: a hell we can only hope they will never need to face outright.”
“Do not worry there. I do not think any of us will forget in our lifetimes what happened. We shall not let these plebs forget either.” She gave a salute with her wing. “Anything else?”
“Give them Tartarus, acting major Fox Feather.” Grif gave her his own salute.
“Oh, I plan on it. It was Tartarus when I was a cadet. I think it is time to show them some of the training. We are planning some Physical Training regimens, as well as a weapons training course. And that is only the start.” She finished with a grin and a manic glint in her eyes. Grif couldn’t help but smirk.
“Dismissed.” He nodded to her as he got to his feet. “And thank you for your honesty.” He pushed a packet of papers to her.
“You are welcome, sir.” She replied as she turned around and left with the packet containing where the Gryphon Slayers would be split up. She looked at the documents and pondered as she walked away. Just what would come of this camp?
“Lets see: two quivers of arrows, a bow each, knives, throwing blades, cord for snares, a tent, some blankets, and two canteens of water.” Grif looked over the equipment. It had been two relatively peaceful days since his talk with the lieutenants and the gryphon slayers and progress was being made all around. It was at this time he had decided that he and shrial could afford to go out hunting for a day. As such, the two were preparing for their trek. “Anything I’m missing?” he looked to the gryphoness.
“Rations? I know how much you love to eat, and we might run into trouble while trying to hunt.” Shrial laughed and gave her betrothed a loving kiss on the cheek, her new signet ring gleaming in the noon day light.
“I knew there was a reason I kept you around.” He laughed. “We’ll need to stop by the larders on the way out. Now that everything’s in place, we risk falling into the zone of random chance,” he said.
“And since when weren’t we there?” Shrial asked, cocking an eyebrow.
“Since-” Grif was cut off by a frantic knocking at his door. “And so it happens. Enter!” he bid the pony. A recruit nearly stumbled through the doorway as he dashed towards them.
“Sir! Lieutenant Rook sent me as soon as he got the news. We’ve spotted gryphons in the distance making a beeline for the fortress,” the cadet said, panting from his run. His eyes flickered with fear.
Grif looked to Shrial. “Well, looks like it’s business now.” He sighed. “Can you get a perch on one of the towers? Keep an arrow trained on the gryphon on point?”
“Already on it.” Shrial took her gryphon bow and quiver harness, swiftly donning them with a fluid grace before she leaped out a window and took to the air, slowly climbing as she flapped her now much stronger wings.
Grif watched her go and sighed in relief. The ploy had worked. At least from there, she would be a less likely target. He turned to the cadet then. “You go to Rook. Tell him to give a third of the troops bows and hide them from sight. Place a token guard on the walls and have everyone else outfitted and in the courtyard, I’ll be out in fifteen minutes and Tartarus will follow me if anypony isn’t fully ready. You understand?”
The pony nodded and gulped before dashing out the door. Grif turned to a different door, opening it to reveal a spiral staircase which he climbed to the next room. Inside several old pony mannequins stood decked in ill-fitting armor next to a weapons rack. “Now let’s see. How to present myself…?” he murmured, looking the armor over.
Exactly fifteen minutes later, Grif stepped out into the courtyard dressed in his fine white robe with the red inner lining and leather covering his chest area. The hooked beak of his hood hung down to nearly touch the tip of his actual beak making his face harder to read.
“Remember, gentlecolts, we do not fire until I give the signal. These are gryphon mercenaries. Many could likely fight before they could speak. Surprise is our ally, and diplomacy is our friend. If this day can end with no blood spilt, I would prefer it. Is that understood?” he asked, looking across the assorted ponies.
“Sir!” came the unanimous response. Grif looked upwards, scanning the towers for Shrial.
She gave a bird call, chirping like a robin from the roof and sending a brief signal using the glint of her ring to let Grif know she was in position.
“Open the gate. If any try to fly over, fire a warning shot. Only a warning shot,” Grif said. Ten minutes later the flapping of wings could be heard in the distance, growing in volume and consistency until a loud thump sounded in the forest outside the gate. From the shadow of the trees a large grey gryphoness with white speckles across her feathers emerged.
She stood nearly as tall as Grif was and carried two hand axes, one sheathed on either side. Her fur was criss crossed with scars from past fights and one large ugly crack spiraled down her beak. Behind her, more gryphons landed. They varied in size and coloring. Each had an old, worn-looking weapon of their own strapped for easy access. All bore the marks of battle and hardship. Some looked ancient, some were very faint, and others had been inflicted with wounds so recent that they were still bleeding.
Unkempt, in pain, but still proud as ever, the gryphons had come to Unity.
Extended Holiday Chp 44: I’m about to be Epic Act 5
Grif stood up with his chest puffed out as he approached the female cautiously. “Greetings, and welcome to New Unity. I am-” Grif was cut off as an axe blade came somewhat dangerously close to his jugular.
“No pleasantries. Where are you supplies?” the gryphoness demanded in a cold tone.
Grif used a tallon to push the axe blade away. “You’ll forgive me, but you're not going to see our supply stocks. If you need to trade, I’m sure something can be arranged,” Grif said, letting his tone drop slightly. “That is, if you're willing to talk peacefully.”
This time Grif saw the other axe blade coming and answered it with a stiletto through the barb and a quick flick of the wrist. The axe thudded to the ground not far away.
“I don’t have time for negotiating trade,” she said. “We need supplies now.”
“If there is some emergency, I’m sure we can help if you’ll explain what the problem-” Grif dodged backwards, narrowly avoiding a swing aimed at his throat. “You really want to stop doing that,” Grif said.
“And why should I?” the gryphoness asked, her eyes burning as she glared at him. A slight wizzing sound flitted through the air followed by a shaft burying itself half way in the earth. One fletching was loose, slowing its flight and giving just enough warning for those with the ears to hear it.
“Because if you take one step more against my future mate, the next one goes through your head!” Shrial cried from her vantage on the rooftop next to their tower.
“I have archers hidden throughout the grounds. And likely by the time you find them all, your friends here, and those couple dozen hidden away up the path would be dead,” Grif explained cooly.
A ripple of shock passed across the gathered group when they realized the extent of Grif’s words. ‘They thought they fooled us,’ Grif mused in his head. ‘Never reveal your full strength: that’s rule one. Never underestimate the other side’s strength: thats rule two.’ Confident that his message was sinking in, Grif spoke aloud, once more extending the olive branch of peace.“If you will please follow me, I’m sure we can come to some kind of agreement regarding your supplies. Your companions can wait here,” Grif said, gesturing for the gryphoness to follow.
“Stupid stuck up she-noble and her puffed up peacock,” Grif heard the gryphoness grumble none too quietly as she passed by. He breathed deeply under his hood. He needed to keep in control. As long as he didn’t lose his temper, this would be over soon and the mercenaries would be on their way.
As the two moved towards the fort, a familiar white figure ran forwards. Sylvio looked at the new gryphon with confusion as he attempted to get her scent. The gryphoness attempted to push the timberwolf away. “Go on. Get out of here,” she said.
Still but a pup in his innocence, the timberwolf thought this was some sort of game and hopped back and forth attempting to follow the taloned hand. The gryphoness growled “I told you to leave, worthless mutt!” With that said, she swung her hand, talons exposed.
A deadly quiet stilled the air as the pup’s whine echoed across the yard. Chunks of bark and wood scattered to the cobblestones nearby, filling the silence with their hollow clacking. The troops looked upon the scene with a horrid fascination. Grif stopped moving. For a full minute he just stood there staring, saying nothing. Then, with a fluid grace belying his muscular form, he reached over and pulled back his hood, letting the anger burning in those blue eye’s show. For a moment a light gale seemed to blow in, but Grif shook his head, letting the wind die down. That was not the way to deal with an upstart like this.
“I open the door for you and you put an axe to my neck. I invite you into our fortress.” Grif glared at her as he looked to the nearby guards. “Circle, now.” The guards grabbed some nearby polearms and began to trace in the ground. “I try to handle this peacefully despite your aggressive behavior and you swing at me.” He pulled a strap under his cloak and let the armor fall with a clamor. “I could have you killed, but I offer you a chance. Then you insult me and my fiancè.” Grif removed his robe and harness in short order. The gryphoness looked across at him, her gaze defiant. Poles clattered to the ground as the circle was completed, echoing in the same manner Sylvio’s wood had as the ponies backed solemnly away. “And now you hurt my DOG!” Grif charged, instantly knocking the gryphoness’ remaining axe away before she could ready herself.
The other gryphons moved to help their leader only for several arrows to pepper the ground nearby. They could only watch, as the ponies did, as the two gryphons descended into a feral mess of claw and beak. Scraps of cloth, bits of fur, and feathers rained down. Screams ranging from eagle like sounds to lion roars echoed through the area. Finally, the fight ended with Grif standing over the gryphoness, his eyes bloodshot and pupils dilated as he held her down on her back. His talons were raised to strike. The gryphons looked away, as did more than a few of the ponies.
“Grif!” Shrial shouted from above. “Control yourself!” She arced down like an arrow, grabbing his arm even as he struggled to land the killing blow. “We have wounded coming to the gates.”
The gryphon struggled for a few more moments before his pupils returned to normal and he looked down, panting heavily. He stepped back, shaking. “B … bind her,” Grif ordered, huffing as he turned to shrial. “W-wounded?” The rage was leaving his eyes, even as he looked on his bride to be. Shrial carried on without so much as batting an eyelash. The two could talk later.
“An old gryphoness with two cubs flanking her. She’s limping badly.” The captured gryphoness inhaled sharply as her ears picked up the news. She struggled against the ponies as they brought the rope, but was soon restrained by Silver Spear and some other unicorns under his command while the earth ponies set to work on what they did best. In seconds, she was trussed up and ready for transport. The guards stood watch, their spears at the ready should any more trouble arise. As a final gesture, they saluted Grif with their spears as he passed before returning to their posts around the offender.
Grif moved slowly through the gate, still panting and shaking at what he had nearly done. He looked towards sylvio as the wood and bark began reattaching itself. The wound hadn’t even been that serious. What was happening to him? He turned to the old one as she drew near. Lowering his beak, he touched the tip with his talon, offering a token of respect. “I.. I hope we can handle things more peaceably,” he said as his eyes wandered back to the upstart.
The old gryphoness looked at the young warrior, her eyes searching. They shone with an ancient wisdom, reflected by the deep gray swimming with flecks of blue and gold. “You have seen much pain. And much battle. Your mind is not yet mastered, young warrior. That could be your downfall if you are not careful.” The gryphoness looked over his shoulder to see the younger gryphoness’ plight. “Thalia!” The elder gryphoness lunged forward, inadvertently placing a blackened paw to the earth as she looked to the young warrior, her heart in her eyes. She hissed in pain and collapsed, her weight suddenly taken out from under her to avoid further damage. “Damn this old leg.”
With the eyes of a veteran soldier, Grif knew the signs only too well. His guilt would have to wait. He snapped to attention, his manner grave as he barked his orders.“You, colts!” Grif pointed to some nearby ponies “Go find Little Willow.” He pointed to another couple of ponies. “You run to ponyville hospital and get the nurse.” The guard nodded his head vigorously and disappeared in a puff of smoke, the sound of rapidly racing hooves echoing back. Lastly, Grif turned to a young blue stallion. He stood there, his knees knocking as Grif’s terrifying gaze fell upon him. “And you, get Zecora!” The stallion was off like a shot as Grif moved to the older gryphoness and carefully picked her up in his talons. Young though he was, his father’s training had made him strong. “What happened to you? Are there other wounded amongst you?” he asked as he flew her into the courtyard. Getting some ponies to spread out a blanket, he set her down gently.
The young hatchlings ran next to her, looking anxious before Grif backed away. “It’s alright, little ones. No need to fear.” The old gryphoness smiled as she used her good hand to pat their heads. “You have been very brave.” She looked to Grif. “Our numbers used to be far greater. Until some dishonorable dogs tried to kill us in the night.” She spat. “The slayed five of us. The rest were able to give battle, but without our armor, many were wounded. They took most of our supplies with them, including our medical equipment. We have been able to sustain ourselves with wild herbs, but … well as you can see, it is not enough. I am one of the few who can still travel easily. Many cannot even fly. We had to fashion stretchers. I normally lead our band, but young Thalia deserved a chance. And we were all weary and in pain. I see her impulsiveness got the better of her common sense.” The old gryphoness shook her head sadly, her old grey feathers letting off a cloud of dust. “You mustn't blame the child. She’s just worried about an old mother who’s seen her fair share of battle.”
“If someone had told me, I would have helped.” Grif sighed, looking to Shrial. “Take as many as you need and get all the wounded in here. Tell the healers to spare nothing. I’ll cover whatever it takes.”
“Already on it.” Shrial forced herself to hold back the tears as she moved to Thalia. She slashed the ropes with her talons, freeing her legs and arms. “You! On your feet. I will need you to vouch for us as we go to reclaim your wounded. As for the rest of you lot, you will assist in carrying them. I will get some more ponies and unicorns from the hospital wing. You wait here. And if you make any other foolish attempts, I promise you, I will show little mercy. We mean no harm, but we fight well.” With that, Shrial stormed off, leaving the other gryphons to marvel and whisper amongst themselves under the careful watch of the guards.
“I’m telling you grandpa, it’s the real lord hammer strike,” Blast Shield beamed as he led the older pony to the royal forge.
“Don’t go tryin’ ta fool me, grandson. I may be old, but I’m not senile. The Hammer Strike the princesses made a lord isn’t the same. I’ve read the accounts. I know what he looks like. That young pony isn’t him.”
Before much else could be said, a loud metallic clang echoed through the hallway, halting the conversation. Soon after that, the sound of scraping metal could be heard followed by a stream of curses.
“What in the Celestia’s name was that?”
“It sounded like someone broke something” blast shield said.
“Broke? Sounded more like shattered. I haven’t heard a sound like that since a trebuchet landed a boulder next to me in the practice field. I had that private demoted so fast, he was scrubbing the floors with his tongue for a week,” The veteran growled with a light smile pulling at his mouth.
“Was that before or after you had the private scrubbing pots and pans with his tongue because he said something funny in passing?” Blast asked his grandfather, chuckling as they moved forwards.
“Now that one deserved what he got. But no, I made him scrub it clean after he licked ‘em clean. Double duty.” Buckler chuckled as they rounded the corner to where a somewhat larger stallion was pushing an anvil lightly with a hoof. Scars marked his body as he continued to work. A toolbelt hung from his waist as a burnt and scorched white noble shirt smoked while he pushed.
“This is why I had you tell them to bring a few anvils, Tower.” Hammer sighed. “They may be counted as better, but they still can not take the force required to shape Ursa bone.”
“Yes sir, Hammer Strike,” Tower Shield nodded. He turned to his brother and grandfather with a smile and a salute. “Glad to see you made it, gramps.”
Hammer Strike turned on hearing Tower greet the two entering. “Ah, Blast, there you are.” He turned fully to face them. “You must be Buckler. Am I correct?”
“And you’re the new Lord Hammer Strike. You sure seem to be living up to his name. It’s not an easy mantle to bear, ya know. And they’re some mighty large horseshoes to fill.”
“I find it easier to live up to a name when it is your own.”
“Then you’re a descendant? That would explain the strength. Could’ve skipped a few generations, I suppose.”
“Not quite. Haven’t had kids.” He responded. “One day perhaps.”
“Of course you haven’t. I’m talking ‘bout your ancestors, boy. Who’s your father?” The old pony glared, not liking his casual and playful tone. “Didn’t he teach you to respect your elders?”
“Yes, he did.” He responded. “He also-” Hammer Strike stopped mid-sentence as his ear twitched. “Luna, the repairs aren’t complete yet. Stop hiding.” He called out, turning towards the shadows in the room.
“I was just checking.” Princess Luna said sheepishly as she emerged from the shadows. “I… think Celestia is calling me.” Luna said, leaving quickly.
“Considering your Sister is still sore from training, I would assume she is having you still do some work. Remember, when I am done with this, we are to spar so I can see with my own eyes if you’ve been practicing.”
“Of course, teacher” Luna called as she left, a flush in her cheeks.
“Sorry about that.” Hammer Strike started as he turned back towards Buckler. “Where were we?”
Buckler gaped, first at Luna, then at hammer, then back to the shadows, then back to the door where Luna’s receding footsteps clopped along the castle floors. “How …?”
“Time.” Hammer Strike responded. “History states that I show up from time to time, and this is one of those points.”
“So you’re some sort of time traveler?” Buckler continued to gape as Hammer easily shifted the anvil fragments to the corner of the room and tossed them on top of a mounting pile.
“Somewhat, I guess. The Crystal Empire did travel a thousand years forward while Pensword, Grif, and myself were statues.”
“Hold still a minute.” Buckler zipped up faster than one would expect, a dust cloud wafting in behind him as he began a minute inspection of Hammer Strike’s scars and other battle wounds. At least the ones that were visible. He may have been brusque, but he wasn’t that disrespectful. “Hmmm … looks like it all checks out. Old many greats grand pappy kept a journal with all the medical work that was done on you. You’re the real mccoy alright.” The soldier nodded his head as he looked at Hammer Strike. “Permission to shake the hoof of one of my greatest heroes?”
“Permission granted.” Hammer Strike responded, holding out his hoof.
The old man gave several violent pumps, practically shaking himself into the air as he tried to shift Hammer the same way he did his recruits. Then he laughed as he settled down. “Hoooooey! You’re as strong as they say, alright.” He wiped a tear from his eye. “Alright, I’m convinced. No more foolin’.” He turned to the new captains, eyes shining. “And I couldn’t be prouder.”
“Perhaps we should see if we can get more of the family transferred over. What do you think, grandpa?” Tower asked.
“If House Strike would have us again, it would be an honor.”
“It sounds like a great idea,” Hammer responded with just a hint of a smile.
In the time it took to get all the injured gryphons inside new unity, the hospital staff and Zecora had arrived. As the hospital staff went through the gryphon ranks offering what help they could, Nurse Redheart, Little Willow and Zecora had all agreed that the infected back paw of the old gryphoness was beyond saving.
“The infection’s spread too far. It’s gone to the core and if we leave it there it will just spread through her body.” Redheart sighed.
Zecora looked over the claws, pads, and flesh, careful not to prod too hard.” The diagnosis the doctor has found, I must agree is very sound.” Zecora bowed her head sadly.
Little Willow shook her head. “We’re sorry, ma'am.” she looked at the old gryphoness, pity in her eyes.
“There must be some way. Please. She doesn’t deserve this.” Thalia begged, tears in her eyes.
“If they help her now, she’ll live,” Grif said. “If they don’t, she’ll die slowly and painfully. Do you really want that?” Grif asked her. In the time it had taken for the healers to get around, Grif had wandered amongst the mercenaries learning what he could of them. Shockingly enough, most of them hadn’t been warriors in the first place. They were outcasts from the homelands forced to fall back on the one thing all gryphons are known for to make ends meet. Farmers, craftsmen, merchants, many had simply had the misfortune of making the wrong enemies. He had been especially shocked when he found a certain brown and white gryphoness amongst the group. Confronting gilda would have to wait for another time, however. Thalia stood there, trembling as she looked on her mother. She blinked rapidly, struggling to hold back the tears.
Despite his words, Grif looked to Zecora. If anyone might know a way to save the paw, it was her. “Is there nothing that can be done? I have the gold to pay for it.”
“Gold and silver feed only greed. The truth from the heart is what I need.” Zecora said mysteriously. She looked carefully over the old gryphoness in her bed, even as Thalia looked on, guilt, fear, love, and sorrow dancing across her face as they blended together. Looking between the two with pondering eyes, Zecora spoke.
“There may be a way, though there is little time. To save the leg from decay and grime. Deep within the everfree lies a very special tree. Its fruit is savory, sublime, a greater treasure few stomachs can find. But what I require to cure this disease lies within this plant’s green leaves. If you would save her from a cruel fate, you must away and must not wait. The tree resides where the waters meet on a tiny island with nectars sweet. But dangerous obstacles bar the way. Will you face the trials or will you stay?”
“I’ll go right now. Just write down the directions,” Grif said.
Zecora shook her head before looking to Thalia with a piercing gaze, her wizened eyes searching. “The leader must lead and prove her worth. She alone must face the curse. Should she return, the leg will be saved, but she must go for disease to be stayed.”
Grif turned to Thalia “Will you go?”
“I will. But who will look after my mother? My people?” Thalia rambled off.
“They can stay here as long as you need. Longer, if necessary,” Grif said.
A moment later a single Pegasus landed in much heavier armor and wing blades then any of the other ponies around. “Sir Grif.” She spoke in a commanding voice. “We were just informed about the attack upon the White Wolf.” She spoke using a nickname they’d invented for Slyvio. “Also, gryphons are still coming in..” She twitched. “Your orders.” She turned as one of the Cubs made a sudden move, she was in a defensive stance. “Cubs? The empire employs cubs? They must be,” She cursed, before trailing off. A moment later she was shaking her head. “No, The Empire is an ocean away now.” She took a deep breath.
“These are refugees,” Grif told her. “For now, they need compassion. They have many injured and no one to aid them. I realise this may be awkward for you all.”
“Awkward, yes.” She muttered. “Refugees…. armed refugees,” She took a breath. “I had better go look up how to handle this in the manuals… I, we do not know how to handle refugees. … We’ll send medics as soon as we cite the proper protocols.” She quickly left the area as she took to the air and drifted towards one of the more defendable positions.
Grif turned to the patient. “How old are you?” he asked.
She smiled, a playful twinkle in her eye. “You know it’s not very nice to ask a woman her age. But I am about three hundred into my life. And a good one it has been, despite the setbacks.”
Grif’s eye’s widened as he grabbed her talon. “One of your age shouldn’t be traveling and fighting for her meals,” Grif said. “It squanders priceless wisdom.”
“Ah, but one can only gain more by experiencing life. I wouldn’t want to be cooped up in a sick room anyways, present circumstances excepted.” She winked playfully, then winced as her leg spasmed.
“Did you ever wear a clan symbol back in the old country?” Grif asked her.
“Once … It was a very long time ago.” The old creature blushed violently.
“Then would you wear one again?” Grif asked her. “My clan is new and it holds no strength, and probably a greater heap of dishonor then honor, but I would offer you and yours a home. I have great need of those old enough to be wise and those young enough to be stupid in turn. I am engaged, and neither me nor my bride have the slightest idea what that entitles from our culture. Would you join me, wise one?”
“That depends, youngling. Are you a battle born?”
“I know a little more and a little less on that subject than most,” Grif said. “I’m a foundling, discovered by my father on a coal bed in the middle of a heavy storm. My father always believed I was an old soul. Though I find myself having less and less an inclination to believe him,” Grif said. “I am trying to tame myself.”
“A difficult task, indeed.” She paused, observing the Gryphon carefully. “My Thalia’s father was a battleborn. He fought to his death, true to the nature others forced him to be. But you … you have potential. You are not set in your ways. Perhaps I can help you. It is the least I can do if this potion your zebra friend speaks of will work.”
“Then know that Grif, son of Graf, Warrior of the Northern Isles, thanks you wise one. And I welcome you to the Bladefeather family.” Once again he lowered his head and touched the tip of his beak with his talon.
The gryphons gasped, staring at the legend of old. For her part, the old gryphoness just smiled. “I suspected as much. You are not so infamous as you may think among some gryphons of the empire, sir Grif. You may yet found great honor for yourself, and for those who have been wronged in our homeland.” She smiled. “I think it is time for me to rest for a bit. Thalia, if you are going on this quest, you had best prepare. I believe the Zebra said there was not much time to waste. Be safe, my little one.” She smiled as she lay back on her pillow and closed her eyes. “Oh, and if anyone tries to kill this young man, I will personally see that they lose their wings before they die and I scatter their ashes. Do I make myself clear?” There were several brisk nods accompanied by wide eyed stares.
Grif stood and turned to the other gryphons. “And I extend you all the same offer!” he rose his voice. “Gather under my wings and let me share your burdens! Be my warriors and I will give you quality weapons and armor. Be my craftsmen and I will give you facilities and materials! Farm for me, hunt for me! I will see that your families are fed. I will see your wounded are taken care of, your elderly honored, and your dead given a proper place to rest. The empire has wronged you. Let me correct their mistake. Any gryphon who wears my symbol will carry their honor with them. I do not ask you to make my enemies your own; I ask you to let me make your enemies mine. Let me make it so your young have the luxury of going to a warm bed with a full stomach and buying candy with their money just because they can. I offer you all my talon as a brother.” Grif looked at them carefully, gaging their mood. “But do not decide now. Stay until your injured are healed and think on my words. Those who do not wish to join may leave when all are well, with a chest of gold in tow.”
The assembled gryphons laughed, clapped, and even screeched their agreement at the words. A few seemed more determined than others as they lowered their beaks and touched the tip with their talons. Grif smiled as he looked across them. Perhaps this was the meaning he needed; making their lives better. “Now, do I have volunteers to hunt?” Grif asked. He looked at Shrial as he motioned for his bow.
Fox Feather quickly landed in their place of defense as she looked towards one of the newer members of the Gryphon Slayers. “Moon Kicker, where are the manuals on Refugees and POW treatments? We’ll need information on how to handle gryphon diplomats as well.” She looked shaken as she looked back through one of the windows. “So many Gryphons,” she muttered.
“Not sure if I like it,” Animal Control said. “He really just invited a few dozen gryphons right inside with not even a second thought.”
Moon Kicker had vanished where the manuals and scrolls for procedures lay in storage. Fox Feather shivered as they heard the cries and screeches. She turned to look through the window and paused. “I,” She stopped. “Faust above,” She whispered. “They are bowing to him.” She blinked and looked back at the others. “Okay, plans. I want plans if they rebel. I want plans for if this is a means to attack from within. Finally, I want plans for if they do become,” She paused, choking on the word. “Peaceful. This is a thousand years in the future. The gryphons could be anything now.” She shook her head. “Yet they could stay the same.” She looked to the others. “When do we present ourselves to this crowd?”
“Why not just stay away unless absolutely necessary?” Animal Control asked.
“And show the Gryphons that we are cowards?” Blood Moon asked. “If anything, we should show them what they face if they go off the path they are on.” He growled and snorted. “Any band willing to press cubs into warfare are not good beings. I am surprised at how many are even wielding full weapons.”
“Need I remind you,” came the harsh tone of Blue Fire as he spread his wings, “That the Gryphons teach the art of war from the moment a Cub can walk? If anything, I find comfort in knowing that part of what I know is still true.”
“Stlil, it is wrong.” Blood Moon muttered as he looked to another Thestral, the strangest of the group. “What do you think, Prism?”
Night Prism looked up at the others. “We wait for the Commander. Till then, Blue,” he paused and his face fell. “Honey Dew and I shall assist in the healing arts down there.” He paused. “In full armor and emblems.” He snorted. “I shall not hide what unit I belong to. But they are in need of healing. It is very possible that they may have changed. I believe the true question here is, can we change?” Prism asked, his rainbow hued mane and tail swaying gently in the corridor’s drafts. “I, for one, fear that I am stuck in my ways, and so is the Commander. May Faust bless it to be different, that we may change to live in this new world.”
Fox Feather looked gravely on the two. “Night Prism, Honey Dew, you both know not to risk too much. Be safe, and come back alive.”
Night Prism snorted. “Do not worry, we shall not do anything too risky.” He looked back where the gryphons had gathered. “Besides. From what we can see, I think we can do a bit of harm to any that try to a dagger dance with any of us.” Night Prism fluffed his feathers smugly. “We are the Gryphon Slayers. We can handle a few ragtag Gryphons.”
“The commander isn’t going to like this.” Animal Control sighed.
“Nay, he shall not.” Fox Feather responded. “Tonight I shall write a letter informing him of the events here. May he return to us soon.” She muttered. “Hopefully with Thestral reinforcements.” She paused. “Maybe not. I keep forgetting there is no war happening.”
With only four anvils broken in the process and less time than Hammer Strike expected, he finished the repairs. He sighed as he rolled his shoulder.
Luna practically skipped out of the shadows. “It’s done?” she asked excitedly.
“Yes, it is.” He gave a small grin as he replied.
Luna hugged him happily before letting the earth pony go before turning to hug the armor. “Oh, how good it feels to have my finest armor ready for battle again.”
“We’ll put it through stress tests later.” Hammer Strike chuckled. “Let’s see. Next on the list is… our spar,” he thought aloud.
“Remember, teacher, I will not be as softened as Celestia.” Luna smiled. “I have trained every day.”
“Good. I’ll finally have a challenge.”
“I’ll go get prepared and warn the grounds keepers,” Luna said. “I fear the aftermath of your training with my sister will be a minor footnote to the damage we shall incur.”
“Minor? We damaged something with that?”
“The gardens, the turf, the stone foundations nearby. I heard something about the engineers needing to reinforce the supports keeping canterlot in place on the mountainside.” Luna shrugged. “Honestly, a city on a mountainside. What was Celestia thinking?”
“No idea. I’m actually shocked it’s as stable as it is.”
“So half an hour, then?” Luna asked.
Hammer Strike shrugged. “Whenever you want. I have plenty of time.”
Two hours later, Hammer Strike and Luna stood twenty miles outside of canterlot surrounded by craters and wreckage. Bits of rock lay strewn across the plain and Hammer Strike, for his part, couldn’t remember if that was smoke or dust that lingered in the air. The pair had started their spar in Canterlot, but had been forced to relocate when warnings came out that the mountain city was on the brink of structural failure. The relocating had been less of a hassle than expected. Neither party seemed to have ended their fight, even as they slid down the mountain slope, sword clashing with hammer.
Where Celestia’s fighting style had been rusty, but refined, Luna’s had been all out barbaric by comparison. As the Lunar princess rained down with her blows, hammer strike actually had to block against them. Despite being smaller than her sister, the dark alicorn fought with a ferocity and a power that few could match. Even now, she looked across at Hammer Strike, panting as her mane lay against her head, matted from sweat as it flopped without its usually starry look. The lunar princess beamed. “It...was….so good… too let loose.”
“Certainly,” Hammer Strike replied, rolling his shoulders as he tried to ignore some of the pain.
“Still, I think for now it would be best if I conceed,” she said. “Not that I couldn’t keep going, but i have to retrieve the Thestrals.”
“Ah.” Hammer Strike sighed. “And we were just getting to the good part.” He chuckled.
“I hope we will spar again, teacher.” Luna smiled “It is good to have a partner who can take a few … how do they say it now? Take a few G’s?”
“Agreed.” He replied. “I wonder what Tower and Blast are doing at the moment, considering they had to… watch from a distance.”
“They may be arranging to have your things moved to Unity,” Luna said. “There are quite a bit of your own things in the armory you will need.”
“Considering they’ve been there since the war, I’ll be repairing them as well.”
“Yes, but you should have them back in shape much faster than you did my armor. And they will be returning to their home at last when they get to New Unity” Luna smiled. “A most fitting name, by the way. You have been away considerably long, and you were well missed.”
Pensword stared out the windows of Canterlot Castle as he saw the damage of what happened. “Reminds me of the aftermath of the attacks she did on the Gryphons.” He smiled and looked to Lunar Fang, or rather, Moonshade. “So, you think the Thestrals will be shocked that their Moonshade is really Lunar Fang?”
“I certainly was.” Lunar Fang said, chuckling. “I do not know how they will accept it.”
“They will accept you as they did before,” Luna spoke assuringly as she entered the room. “It is myself we will have to be worried about.”
“How so, Luna?” Pensword asked, making a face. “After growing up a thousand years ago, that feels very strange.” He paused. “Yet it feels right.” He paused again, deep in thought. “How was the battle?”’
“Did you not feel the city shaking?” she grinned. “That was us before we had to move. Seriously, a city? On a mountain side?” she shook her head.
“Humans have built in stranger places,” Pensword muttered. “We filled in swamps, damned entire oceans with dikes, and took lands. We have built in many places.” He shook his head. “We have built in active Volcano ranges. We have residents in the coldest desert in the world, even. That in and of itself is a fascinating story..” He looked to the window. “This is no stranger, yet, I worried over the shaking..” he opened his wings. “This, however, would help me in saving lives, if needed.”
“You’ll forgive me for asking, pensword, but how many of these settlements required diagonal structural supports to keep them from rolling down a slant?” Luna asked. “It would have been wiser and more prudent to carve a flat surface from the mountain and build the city in such a fashion”
“Let’s see.” he muttered. “Actually, a few. Mine building, ghost towns that were abandoned only because the ore dried up ...” He shook his head. “We built part of a city on a landfill that was put into water… an earthquake hit and the land those homes were on liquified,” he muttered matter of factly, then paused. “I think that proves your point. I really do not know why thy sister built Canterlot like it is.”
“I’ve been thinking, pensword,” Luna noted as she checked the provisions that had been prepared for them. “Perhaps it is not best for two alicorns to occupy the same domain. Canterlot is a bright and cheery place. Perhaps the sun should remain here and the moon should reside somewhere more appropriate.”
Pensword raised an eyebrow. “What comes to thy mind?” He asked. “You have a location picked for the night court? Thou knowest that there shall be Ponies following thee, as thou art one of the rulers of Equestria.”
“The Maretonians have done some interesting things with architecture. Did you know they have carved temples into the faces of cliffs? One would think with a proper cliff, a palace could be carved in a similar manner,” Luna noted. “I would appreciate your thoughts on this idea. And yours as well, Lunar fang.”
“It is not such a bad thought in theory. But what of your sister? You have always lived together. Would this not be a hard blow to her?” Lunar Fang asked.
“Evidence has shown that the two of us cannot live in close proximity for long periods. Even now the night court is empty most nights, and we feel we may get more ponies coming if we rearrange my proximity to them.”
Pensword paused. “Why not reside with those that adopted thee as their leader? Grow the Thestral lands into their own duchy, grant them royal houses. Thou art a leader to them. And with thine armor repaired, thou art able to prove once more thy right to lead them. If thou must set court elsewhere, start with a place of strong support. However, make sure thy sister knows thou art doing this for the sake of thine own mind and mental health, and that she is still a beloved sister.” He paused and bowed his head in shame. “I speak out of turn, my Chieftess and Princess.” He sighed. “Even if I returned to Earth, I doubt I could return to being just a civilian any more.”
“You never speak out of turn, Pensword,” Luna responded. “Had you been there, I may never have fallen in the first place.” She smiled regretfully. “However, to even get the chance to go along with your suggestion, I must establish a traditional place of power. Otherwise, the nobility will not accept it. And beautiful though the great cave is, it lacks a recognized center.”
“Then I shall give up my barony of Fort Triumph for thy seat of power.” Pensword roared, slamming a hoof to the ground. “Let them see that the Fort that Commander Pensword took for Equestria, the seat of the Gryphon Empire’s holdings of this land. That holds their petty requirements, and is under Thestral rule as I speak.” Lunar Fang nodded her head in approval. Tears stood in Luna’s eyes as she looked on her trusted commanders.
“Thank you, my generous friends.” she hugged pensword and Lunar Fang with her wings. “You will, of course, be the duke and duchess of my capital?”
Pensword paused, “Actually, that cannot happen. Thou art ruler of those lands directly. Though there is still Mountainside Falls to consider. Nevertheless, I hope I speak for the both of us when I say,” he looked to his wife and mate. “That we will accept the rank and title.” He muttered, sighed, then spoke again. “On the condition that I be allowed to keep some of the emblems from my homeland as emblems of the Duchy.” He looked to his mate. “If thou dost approve, dear.” He turned his head. “I cannot stand still and hope to return home. I must live a life here.”
“You know I will follow you no matter what, Pensword.” Lunar fang said, nuzzling him gently.
Pensword returned the nuzzle gently. “Thank you, dear.” He whispered. “That shall leave the old lands still in the control of the Tribal Leaders.” He shook his head. “I am the Commander of a defunct Military with hopes of rising. A Night Phoenix might be a good symbol for them,” he muttered. “A Duke of unknown lands. It seems my future is to build upon an uncertain future.” He laughed a little. “Just like home.”
“Hmm..” Luna smiled “Then let it be known that when we return, it shall be the rise of the ‘fille de y’s” Luna smiled “thank you, my friends.”
Pensword raised a wing with a look that just screamed confused. “What is Fille De Y’s?” He looked to Lunar Fang who just grinned mischievously and allowed Luna to answer the question.
“It is Phrench,” Luna explained. “A city that supposedly vanished into the ocean years ago”
‘Like Atlantis,” Pensword muttered. “Not really a city, but a civilization that vanished below the ocean waves, reported to be very advanced for the time period.” He paused and blushed a little. “Are you planning to raise a city?” He asked in awe. For a moment the old Matthew was showing through, the one who still wondered at magic and had not been affected by the last war. He paused. “Or have I missed the point?”
“I hope the thestrals will build a city to rival canterlot around the fort. I merely am considering comparing what we shall build to that city.” Luna smiled. “The earth ponies have manehatten, the unicorns Canterlot, and the pegasi Cloudsdale. Do we not deserve a testament to our ingenuity?” Luna asked.
Lunar Fang smiled, pride beaming in her posture and voice. “That, will be a triumph to show. And it will be an honor to see this rise from mind to reality.” She turned to give Pensword a light wing tap over the head. “So, you know when she asked us to accept the titles of duke and duchess, it’s expected when royalty takes land from a noble to build a capital that the nobles gain those titles.”
“Oh…” Pensword muttered and blushed. “Remember, Matthew came from a non noble ruled nation, and Pensword, I … we came from a place not of nobility. So we never learned about- I never learned about that rule.”
“I hope it does not bother you?” Luna asked.
“To be honest,” Pensword muttered thinking back to something he said earlier and could not remember if Luna was present or not. So he spoke it again. “I need to move forward. I am married, I am about to be a father to a my first child, and I cannot run from what I have done. I created a nest. I might as well live in it, including any fallout that may come if we ever establish contact with my world.” He paused and looked to Luna, knowing she knew about the facade. “Our world. I still am shocked you let us galavant around making fools of ourselves with our hole filled story.”
“We had to take things slowly. We didn’t know what you were capable of, or if more where coming,” Luna said. “Playing along seemed to be the safer path”
“Well, it sure kept us from freaking. We, or at least I, was more concerned maintaining the cover story.” He muttered. “Still, now, I have been through three wars, seen things I wish on neither pony nor human, and frankly, I am ready to say yes just to avoid any more antics and politics or adventures.” He looked to Lunar Fang. “What about you, dear? You okay being a duchess?” He paused. “That would make her the first Thestral duchess since thine fall a thousand years ago, would it not?”
Luna nodded. “And it would also make a statement for my new capital.”
“So,” She asked trying to act in a manner similar to the silly actions the humans had taken in a time that seemed so very long ago. “Shall we begin?”
On the path to New Unity, Hammer Strike walked alongside six other ponies. Blast Shield and Tower shield were accompanied by some of their family. Grampa Buckler came along with Cold Shield, Metal Shield, and Sky Shield. Each of the group carried something of theirs along with them to New Unity.
Metal Shield was looking more at Hammer Strike and not around him. The red earth pony with black mane and tail finally asked a question at the gates“Uh, Milord, I was wondering, could I be of assistance with your work? If you need any ponies to test any new armor, I would be happy to help.”
“I’ll have to see how you work first, then we’ll talk about that,” Hammer responded. “We’ll figure this all out once we get set up. Welcome to New Unity,” he said, gesturing around only to pause at the number of gryphons on the inside of the fort. “Well then, that’s an obvious difference.”
Gryphons were spread all over new unity, many helping with reconstruction while others seemed to be aiding by training the troops in bowmanship. One or two could be seen in the far corner shaping stones to use in the repairs. Grif stood somewhat further down the courtyard looking over some schematics.
“Grif!” Hammer Strike called out as he walked over to him.
Grif turned his head in a very bird like fashion. “Oh, hello Hammer Strike.” He smiled “I am guessing you have a question or two for me?”
“I’m sure you can guess the main question, considering the visible difference.”
“Well, you know how Twilight mentioned a band of gryphon mercenaries who travel through this way yearly?” Grif asked.
“Wonderful.” Hammer Strike commented. “As long as I don’t have to deal with assassins, I guess it doesn’t really bother me.”
“Thats… good, cause at least a third of them may be staying for a long term,” Grif said. “... And that number could grow”
“I just love getting late news.” Hammer commented. “I think I’m going to go get the shields set up and then work on a few… projects that I remembered.”
“Okay. When you get some time, these swords may need to be looked after.” Grif said, motioning to his twin rapiers. “They seem too light for me now, and i’m worried they will throw off my swing.”
“I’ll add that to the long list of things I have to repair or rework.” Hammer Strike sighed. “The thousand years weren’t kind for the equipment left in the vault.”
“No rush. There shouldn’t be a major fight yet,” Grif said. “Actually, winter wrap up should be happening soon, shouldn’t it?”
“Yep.” Hammer Strike replied. “Though with us being in the Everfree, we will not be doing much of that.”
“I figured I’d take my troops into ponyville and help out.” Grif shrugged.
“You can if you want. I’ll most likely be working like usual.”
“Well, I should go and check how they're doing by the outer walls,” Grif noted. “We’ll talk later,” he said in farewell as he took to the air.
Hammer Strike turned back towards the Shields and gave a slight shake of his head. “Alright. Now we have to figure out what all of you can do and are willing to do,” he said. “Besides you, Blast and Tower. You technically know what you are doing.”
Sky Shield looked around. “Perhaps I can organise some pegasi and we can get some clouds together for some sort of outpost?” he offered. “From ponyville, of course.”
“I was about to say, good luck considering we are in the Everfree.” Hammer responded. “But that sounds reasonable, I guess.”
“Consider it done.” Sky Shield replied with a smart salute and left with about five other Pegasi towards Ponyville.
Metal Shield raised a hoof. “Can I have a space to tinker myself at the moment?” He actually smiled. “It would be nice to try some of the ideas I have in my head.”
“I’ll show you to the room in a moment. We’ll see how things play out from there.”
“Where should I be?” Buckler asked, looking around.
“Where do you think you’ll be best suited?”
“Not really sure,” Buckler answered. “I’ve been told I’m too old for combat. I’ve got a good eye for numbers, though. You need an armory officer?”
“We can get you settled in for that if you are up to it. Though keep in mind, because you are told something doesn’t mean that’s what it is. Technically, I’ve been told if I continued on my path, I would be dead already.”
“I’d fight if you’d let me” buckler said.
“It is up for you to decide.” Hammer shrugged. “Do you feel you are fit for that, or training others, or something else if you wanted?.”
“I’ll whip the younguns into shape.” Buckler smiled after some thought.
“Glad to hear it.”
A white Unicorn with ice blue mane and tail just looked at Hammer Strike. “I shall begin preparing for any invasions.” His voice fit his name well. Cold Shield stood stoically as he met his Lord’s eyes. “Also, I tend to do my own things. Please, do not get in my way. I shall say this. I work on paper tactics, running them in my head. If you wish to get involved, let me practice them on the field at some point.”
“Whatever works for you,” Hammer Strike replied. “With all this settled, I’ll show you all around momentarily. Then you are free to do your tasks.”
Pensword looked at his wife as they dressed in their armor from the Third Gryphon war. He liked her armor, well the second pair, seeing as her original had been left in the past to end up in the Museum. It was a little tight, but still fit for the moment. One could tell she was with a foal. “So, ready to return to our lands and, bring the Thestrals again into the light?” he paused. “And so help any pony who wishes to put them back,” he said as he raised a wing blade. “They shall face Me.” he paused. “As well as thee, my sweet Lunar Fang.”
“As always, I am with you.” She smiled. “I see a twilight coming for our species.”
“Uh, in my world, a Twilight is the ending of something. What, do you think of it in yours?”
“Twilight is one of the most beautiful times of night,” she reminded him. “It gives us both the light and the dark before the night fades. It is as much a beginning as an end: a symbol of change.”
“Ah. I like the Thestral view of Twilight better than my version.” Pensword replied. “A good twilight to come,” he muttered.
“No matter what happens, the thestrals will not only thrive, but for once, we will have a permanent place in Equestria.”
“Long live High Chieftess Luna.” Pensword whispered, kissing her on the muzzle. He pulled away as he heard the clock chiming softly in the room. His eyes widened. “We had better find Luna now. I would rather not be late arriving to the caves.” He paused as his eyes spotted something else. “Dear, I do believe that an occasion such as this would be an appropriate time to wear our wedding gifts.”
Lunar Fang followed her husband’s gaze. She snorted with mirth in her eyes. “More like you wish to prove without a word just who we are.” She smiled as her eyes twinkled. “Very well, my dear. We shall wear your kill that won you my courtship.” She smiled as the two walked towards the chest.
Pensword paused in shock. “Oh dear.” He muttered. “With all that has gone on, I Forgot something. I have a duel at nine tonight.” He shook his head. “I, I need a good authority to be my second, no way in all of Equis would I risk your life, nor the life of our foal.” He paced around the room, his expression grim. “I just wonder how, skilled this Gryphon is.” He looked to the window. “Who do you have in mind for my second?”
“What about Colonel Nightshade?” Lunar fang asked.
“Is he any good? Wouldst thou trust him with thine own life?” he asked as he moved to start donning his armor. “How do I reach him?”
“He is generally at Luna’s side when matters of the nightguard come up. I imagine that he’d be at the compound now, though.”
“Then let us pay him a visit. Would you lead the way? I have never been to your compound.” He paused and smiled a little. “I will get to see where you vanished to all those times.” He shook his head. “Seems so long and yet such a short time ago that you called me human to tease me.”
Then follow me, human.” She smiled as she turned as her husband followed behind. Together, they made their way to the Lunar compound.
“As you wish, my little Thestral,” he replied with a laugh.
The hour arrived. Three equines stood in the park waiting for the Gryphon, as the challenge had stated. Pensword stood dressed in his full armor, complete with wing blades for show. They challenged him. He would appear as a legend then. He looked to a clock tower as it struck nine. The bells began to toll. He swiveled his ears to catch the sound of anything approaching.
The gryphon in question approached from the opposite end flanked by another cloaked male gryphon. “I see you made it.”
“I am a stallion of my word. You challenged me and I accepted. Therefore, I am here.”
“Very well,” the gryphon said as the cloaked gryphon offered Pensword a rapier.
He held a hoof out to stop the Gryphon, then spread his wings as Lunar Fang and Nightshade moved to unclasp the wing blades. “It would be unfair for me to have more weapons than the prescribed weapon of choice.” As soon as the blades were removed, he took the rapier and held it before him as he took up his stance. “Now I am ready.”
“Excellent.” The gryphon second said from behind his hood. “This duel is to be a battle for honor, love of country, and family. The rules are simple. The combatants shall take their weapons and salute one another. At the challenger’s signal, the two shall begin. The duel shall be settled at first blood. These are the terms.
The gryphon assumed his own stance, holding the rapier diagonally towards pensword, the point trained just below his neck.
Pensword copied the move, only his blade was poised at the wing of the Gryphon. He waited for the signal to begin.
“Engarde!” the gryphon shouted, coming at pensword with a series of quick thrusts.
Pensword moved only to block or parry the moves. The blades clicked and slashed, glowing like liquid silver in the air. When they met head on, a bell-like tone pealed through the night, a mere shadow compared to the deep-throated clamour of the tower. He took a step back and the gryphon lunged. He could feel the Gryphon’s confidence growing. He smirked, parried, then with a quick thrust, he shifted from defensive to the offensive.
The gryphon managed to keep a reasonable guard, though it was quite clear he lacked Pensword’s battlefield experience as he gave far too much ground. Finally seeing an opening, the gryphon slashed forward putting pensword on guard again as he rained down blows attempting to regain what he had lost in their dance.
The ground the gryphon supposedly regained soon gave way to a terrible truth. Pensword shifted his stance and resumed the offensive. It was merely a ploy to get the challenger to expend more energy. He was glad to see the Gryphon had chosen to remain on the ground so far. An aerial rapier fight would be a little harder, but hopefully doable. He blocked a blow and found his opening as he attacked, pushing the Gryphon back again and finally nicking the Gryphon along the arm. “First blood.” Pensword said, stepping back.
The gryphon growled menacingly. He moved to attack again, only for Colonel Nightshade to clear his throat.
“What?” The gryphon snarled, about to rebuke the offender when he finally noticed the cross bow carefully brought to bear. “In accordance with the treaty and by your own account, this duel was to first blood. You lost, sir, fair and square. Now, if you move to attack again, you will die. And no one will be to blame but yourself.”
The gryphon looked to his second who silently shook his head. With a growl he snapped his rapier over his knee and stormed away.
Pensword paused and waited till the Gryphon was out of sight. “Lunar Fang, take a rag and gather the broken blade. I shall have it displayed in my office.” he looked to Colonel Nightshade. “Thank you for your help.” He looked around the park. “Now we need to return to our quarters and prepare for our trip tomorrow.”
“I’ll have an eye kept on those two while they’re here,” the one eyed thestral nodded. “If you need me again, just ask.”
“I shall do so if needed. Consider thee to be my second for any duels within the walls of Canterlot,” Pensword replied looking towards Lunar Fang. “However, we two can find our own way home from here.”
“Why, Pensword,” Lunar Fang said, blushing profusely as her mate walked to her side. Nightshade took this as his cue to leave and with a few wing flaps, he disappeared into the night, leaving the couple to themselves.
Shawn stood inside his bedroom for the first time in both days and years. Removing his hand from the bracelet he looked at it and its brother for a moment, clenching them into fists before rolling his wrists. He felt disoriented, but being a pony for thirty seven years would do that, considering that now he had technically been a pony longer than he had been a human.
He sighed aloud and blinked a few times as he focused on his balance again, his mind reworking itself for a bipedal stance. He looked around at his room. His belongings had been placed on the floor as requested, and he had sorted them where they needed to be. He sighed once again as he walked over to a mirror to take a look at himself.
While it was tougher to see his facial hair when it was thin as a pony, it was much more obvious with less fur. His mind drifted as his eyes came across a few scars that seemed to still be present on his face and one on his ear, specifically where the part had been torn off in his other form.
He removed his coat and draped it onto a chair nearby. He wore dark blue pants with his brown boots and a white dress shirt with a dark blue vest. Pushing up his sleeves, he found the same thing that he did with part of his face. Shaking his head, he rolled his sleeves down and walked away from the mirror towards his desk, where many of his old projects and research into Thaumaturgy had been placed.
Staring at the old Latin in front of him, his mind translated the language once again as he read his private notes. Projects that he wanted to test, and a few other important notes. Like one to…
His head shifted towards the small lockbox on his desk. Patting his pockets he found the object he was looking for and pulled it out. An odd shaped key.
Placing it into the lock, he gave it a turn and popped it open to reveal something he had been hiding from the others…
The crystal Grif had on his arm at the Crystal Empire.
When the burst had broken the crystal off, he had grabbed it, wanting to lock it away and ensure it was out of reach of anyone. And so he kept it near him always, locked away by a strange key in this magically enchanted box. The dark crystal seemed to periodically send a shock out of it while in the box, as if every now and then it was trying to send a message or break free. Yet it appeared the crystal lacked the power to do so. Was it possible that this shard contained some form of intelligence? And if so, whose or what kind did it hold?
Shaking his head, Hammer Strike closed the box again, looking around his room one last time. Certain that nopony else was present, he locking the box and returned things as they were before, always keeping the key close to his breast while the thing remained locked away where it could do no harm. He would guard it as long as he had to if it meant keeping his friends safe.
Half a mile outside the village of Lunar Haven, Lunar Fang, Pensword, and Luna materialized. Luna had been unable to stop grinning from within the helmet of her armor since she put it on. The refurbished armor seemed to breathe new life into the lunar princess. Her eyes shone with a look that Pensword had not seen since the time of their first venture to this town a thousand years ago. A confidence, a stance that stated that she knew her element, and she could and would push forward with her plan of action. It was to Lunar Fang, a look she had seen many times when she was on the battle field. The Lunar Princess, it seemed, was finally coming into her own and finding her place in this strange new time.
Pensword found himself unable to keep from cracking a smile himself. It was a contagious feeling. He had decided to wear the cloak he had made so long ago for his wedding, that of the Ursa Minor he had slain so long ago. His armor clinked beneath its covering as he turned his head to look at Lunar Fang. He beamed at her as she wore a slightly modified set of armor to allow for her belly. Shining like the stars at night, she bore her own wedding cloak, granting her a regal appearance while still maintaining the power of a warrior.
Lunar Fang found herself hiding a smile behind her wing at how Pensword was acting. Her heart was glad that Matthew was slowly re-emerging from the travesty of the war. The two looked at each other while Luna scanned their surroundings.
What was now Lunar Haven was much larger than Pensword remembered as thestrals, hybrids, and even some non thestral ponies strolled down the roads casually. They walked through a great wooden gate, watching as it swung ponderously closed. On either side of the gate, set into a stone wall, two towers rose to afford protection and reconnaissance for the town. As Pensword observed his surroundings, he noticed that this wall wrapped around just a ways outside of the small city’s limits. The houses were tiny, but sturdy, with farm fields all around them just waiting for spring and winter wrap up.
The group slowly began to walk forward as they entered the town limits. It felt like taking a step into the past for pensword as he saw several things he’d not seen in months by his memory. Thestrals worked in the open air tanning hides of various kills while others sorted cuts of meat. Farmers worked the fields with scythes and rakes, and others were selling their food and wares in a market. Pensword had to keep an impulse down to delay their time table to browse. All the while, foals played in the streets putting on faces of imaginary bravado against equally imaginary enemies. This caused Pensword to smile. But his eyes told a sadder story at the sight.
The crowds slowly quieted as the three newcomers approached a stone arch where the original entrance to the town had been. At the top of the arch, carefully carved into the keystone, Princess Luna’s cutie mark stood proudly. To the right and left, Pensword’s and Lunar Fang’s cutie marks lay as an accompaniment to the center. The marks stood at about eye level to a flying Thestral. The arch itself was two stories tall.
To Pensword’s mind, or rather Matthew’s mind, as he slowly found himself refering even to his human memories as Pensword’s, what played in his head was a smaller version of the Arch De Triumph from Paris. On the top of the arch a ball stood, the image of the moon stood carved on it for all to see from before Nightmare Moon covered its surface. Passing beneath, the trio found carvings depicting the many triumphs of the Thestrals, the most prominent being on the top of the arch showing the front of Fort Triumph with Luna and Pensword’s cutie marks in the middle while the emblems of the Tribes lay evenly spaced on either side. As they finished passing through the arch, they found a large plaza ringed with paving stones. A grassy field lay in the middle, giving the impression of peace and rest.
Next they saw a statue in the middle of the grass that caused all of them to pause. There they stood, staring at themselves. The statues appeared to be standing on what Pensword almost wanted to say was a stone grassy field somewhere. Within hoof’s reach, weapons stood in their racks, waiting for their owners to take up arms if needed. What surprised Pensword and Lunar Fang was how Pensword had one of his wings draped over Lunar Fang’s body in a loving yet protective manner. They both had their heads touching. Even in this pose, they could see that Princess Luna, while sleeping, was still positioned in a way to protect the other two even then. Around the sleeping forms, statues of other Thestrals lay in wait, smaller in stature, and all facing outwards as if guarding the three during their time of rest and sleep. An inkling in Pensword’s mind thought that these might be the images of chieftains past. At least until he noticed the Mare in front of his statue. There stood his grandmother, lovingly watching over the couple. He turned his head quickly to keep the tears from his eyes. He paused as his eyes caught the title under the statute. He read it aloud to the others. “The sleeping warriors: may they return well rested and willing to lead us again.” He paused and looked back to Luna and Lunar Fang. “It appears that this is a place of remembrance.”
“It would appear that they remember us,” Luna noted, looking around.
“I would concur.” Pensword muttered. The plaza had come to a stand still. “I shall have to lay some Moon Flowers in front of Grandma’s statue to honor her.”
“Shouldn’t we, uh, plan a hasty exit if needed?” Lunar Fang whispered to the other two as she turned her ears about under the articulated armor, only for Pensword to shake his head, using a wing to point around them. She looked around as she heard Luna step forward, closer to the statue.
“I doubt we would be successful.” Luna scanned the area. “But I also doubt it will be necessary. They are likely to know why we have come.”
“Once again,” Pensword started before trailing off as a slightly timid colt slowly walked forward. An Earth Pony with thestral eyes, ears, and coat shivered as he looked upon Luna in her armor.
“Ponies of Lunar haven,” Luna spoke, not wanting to risk the canterlot voice with so many thestrals around. “The exile of the Thestrals ends now.” She spread her wings as she said this. “And the age of unification has arrived!”
The bold declaration was met with silence. Luna looked at the thestrals, scanning from one end to another. Her eyes betrayed the fear and regret that churned underneath. At long last, somepony started stomping loudly in the back. From another part of the crowd, a Thestra cry of victory sounded. It spread like a wave as thestrals, ponies, and half breeds alike all cheered and shouted. Some wept, clinging to loved ones at the possibilities of what may come. Lost family that could be found again.
Pensword, feeling a little more confident and smiling, pulled something else from under his cloak. Concord gleamed in the sunlight as he felt that he needed to show a tool that had come from the forges of Lunar Haven. He smiled as he held it up. For the moment, losing himself in the celebratory atmosphere.
The crowd roared louder at the sight, the shout echoing in the mountain air. Some of the colts and fillies suddenly rushed the three with joy as they showcased the same fearlessness the CMC held. Pensword laughed as he lay down on the ground and let the foals look at the cloak. Others stared, wide eyed at High Chieftess Luna and her Ursa Major armor. They were all talking fast, overlapping one another to the point where no one could understand them. For once though, he didn’t care that he couldn’t understand. He could feel another piece of his old self falling into place as he gazed on his people. He paused, trying to hold back the tears.
Pain, joy, and many other emotions rushed through him at once as once again, he saw Mountainside Falls rising from the dust of memory. This time, it was as he remembered it from his foalhood. His siblings grinned at him from the city hall with the rest of the citizens. They waved at him. Some cried. There were the Hooves with their horns buffed and polished, the elder brother nodding his head in acknowledgement while the younger winked playfully. Their personal guard stood with the village guard behind them, their armor gleaming as they saluted the commander, his old teacher saluting beside the two lords. And there at the front stood the three most important people in his life. His grandmother, Moonbeam, and Iron Pen stood proudly with his family and the rest of the tribe. They smiled and waved, tears of gratitude and love in their eyes. At long last, the ghosts were at peace, confident that a new generation could rebuild where they had faced only destruction and segregation before.
“We promised, you know. We’ll visit to say hello, but no more pain. Alright?” Moonbeam asked, her beautiful voice ringing like a bell. Pensword nodded in acknowledgement, not trusting himself to speak. This time, the tears flowed freely.
Extended Holiday Chp 45: Of Mysteries and Curiosities Act 5
“Lord Hammer Strike!” Tower Shield charged into the room. “Our troops were surveying the lower levels for needed repairs and they found… something.”
Blast Shield darted his head back to the hallway, then back to his lord. “Something … that might need your attention.” He paused as he realized it was Shawn instead. Surprisingly, he did not react upon seeing the human.
“Well then,” Shawn said, placing the quill down. “Hammer Strike, or me?”
“You.” Blast Shield replied with the same tone of voice. “Now.” he turned to look out the door holding, shaking his spear.
“Considering the fact that I’m never needed and that you just talked twice in a row, what army is coming to attempt to kill us?” Shawn asked.
“Nothing that serious, sir,” Tower said. “We… found something you should see.”
“In other words, something serious.” Shawn shrugged. “Alright, let’s go. Lead the way,” he said, gesturing towards the door.
Blast Shield did not say a word as he moved from the door to the next corner of the hallway keeping a good clear line of sight around them. “We have to move to the lower levels. It’s in a room that has part of the hallways filled by rubble. That place on the opposite side of the gallery.”
“So, how big of a problem is this?” Shawn asked the two shields.
“Currently, small. Potentially, enormous damage and a disastrous political fallout.” Tower answered.
“Wonderful.” Shawn replied.
Blast Shield paused at a closed door. “Down the stairs behind the door. We locked it after what we found it.”
“Grif has most of the troops off for different reasons, so we didn’t have the staff to place armed guards, and we didn’t want to take the chance of giving them something to copy,” Tower Shield said.
“Alright then,” Shawn replied as he opened the door. He walked past the doorway and headed down the stairs before setting his eyes on what was in front of him. “Oh. Wonderful.”
Looking around, he spotted several pieces of what had once been furniture rotting on the floor. The room had been covered in a thick fluorescent glowing green goo with pods of varying sizes. He could see the splintered remains of a Timberwolf in the pod nearest him. All of them glowed dully, as did the floor. Many husks and shards lay scattered amongst the current pods, degrading to join the pile of ooze. Judging by the tooth marks, they also served as a food source.. Shawn just stared blankly at the two creatures standing before him. The two Changelings stood frozen in a staring contest with the sum of all their fears.
“So,” he said, reaching into his coat and pulling out a knife. “Who wants to go first?”
The changelings dropped to the ground and covered their heads. “Please don’t kill us,” one of them said, not daring to look up.
Shawn paused as he looked at the changelings. “I’ll be honest, didn’t expect that response… What are you two doing here?”
“The disconnected landed here after the invasion failed. The disconnected could not find the queen, or the hive”
“How many of you are there?”
“We are four,” the Changeling on the right replied with pride. “If necessary, we only need to bite you once to have you listen to one of our voices.” The changeling’s armor shook, even as it spoke, a clear betrayal to the bravado it had just shown..
“I’d prefer you not try to bite me,” Shawn replied, leaning against one of the walls as he stared at the changelings. “So. There are four of you in total, all of you ‘disconnected’ from Chrysalis?”
“The disconnected have not heard the queen since landing; only the whispers that started weeks ago,” another changeling further back answered. Its voice sounded higher pitched.
“Something tells me I know what those ‘whispers’ are…” Shawn muttered to himself. “Where are the other two?”
“The larger ones say to wait until they make things safe.”
“Where are they making ‘safe’?”
“we heard ponies. The disconnected did not wish to see all wiped out.”
“That doesn’t exactly answer my question.”
“This place, safe place,” the changeling responded, stomping a hoof non-aggressively.
“If this is the safe place, and they are trying to make it safe, what are they going to try?” He asked, idly flipping the knife around in his hand.
“We did not know this was The Undying’s place,” The changeling said, shaking.
“Show me where they are before they do something stupid and you all pay for it,” Shawn said, shaking his head.
Two smaller changelings stepped out of the darkness in the back. Shawn noticed as they walked a few larger thicker plates of chitin were kicked away, indicating that these two had recently shed and regrown their shells which were made of thinner interlocking plates.
“Good. You didn’t try getting around that.” He said, still twirling the knife in his hand. “Congratulations, you won’t be killed unless you give me a reason.”
“We ... we live?” One of the larger Changelings asked in confusion. “You are The Undying, the Queen Menace. You attack Changelings.” He moved in an instinct almost to protect the other two Changelings in synchronization with his partner.
“Yeah, well, you caught me in a better mood,” Shawn replied, putting the knife back into his coat.
The two male Changelings did not know what to do or think. “We ... we can feed on love?”
“As long as you don’t capture anyone inside of a green cocoon, nor drain anyone entirely of emotion, I don’t see a reason to kill you.”
“Then how do we live?” One of the smaller Changelings cried out in an actual show of frustration.
“Willing love, food, I don’t know,” Shawn replied. “I’ll take you to the other changeling hive to figure it out.”
“Other hive?” The “leader” Changeling cried out. “Another hive?” it said, blinking in surprise.
“Most likely those whispers you have been hearing or something.” Shawn sighed. “Come on. We’ll go now, before I change my mind.”
In a flash of green fire the four changelings were replaced by four unicorns Shawn was certain he had seen in Canterlot a few times.
“Half tempted to tell you not to disguise yourselves…”
“Wha? WHY!?!” One of the smaller Unicorns cried, a mare by look of its form. “We would be killed out there.”
“Because you’re coming with me. If anyone has a problem, I would-” He broke off as he realized just where that train of thought was leading him. “On second thought, just stay in disguise then. But when we get to the hive, you’re changing back.” Shawn sighed again.
“We agree.” A mare said, nodding her head. “Lead the way, Undying.”
As they climbed the stairs, Shawn found the two shield brothers standing guard over the door. Tower took a look behind Shawn and raised an eyebrow. “Are …? They ... where are you taking them? What are you doing?” He moved to block his lord, concern showing in his eyes as he looked over the pony’s neck.
“I’m dealing with them by taking them to a different location,” he replied.
“Should I get an armed escort together?” Blast Shield asked.
“I’d prefer keeping those who know of the location to a minimum. If you want to come along, go right ahead. But we’ll be walking.”
“Very well, sir.” Tower Shield saluted as he and his brother filed in behind the party.
Grif sat behind the makeshift desk of what he had determined to be his ‘temporary office.’ It was really just a room inside the palace that had been in better shape than most of the others. He had taken a few large stone blocks and placed some boards over them to form his desk. He waited as patiently as he could, rehearsing the lines in his head about how he would deal with this. His concentration was soon disturbed by a loud voice clearing itself.
“Ahem. I was told our contractor requested to see me,” a familiar voice spoke up; a voice that in animated form had brought no end of teeth grating rage to the gryphon. But now that he was present in the same space he could hear true emotion with the voice: pain, regret, and rage all seemed strong themes in the headstrong gryphoness’ voice as Gilda spoke.
“Yeah, come on in,” Grif said, gesturing to the other side of the desk. “Take… uh … seat. Yeah ... that probably would work better if i had chairs,” Grif noted. “So your name is Gilda, right?”
“Yeah.” the gryphoness raised an eyebrow.
“I’m sure you noticed, Gilda, that we are operating in rather close proximity and nigh on constant contact with Ponyville. It has come to my attention that you have some history with this town, and I think I’d like to get the full story about this.”
“Sure,” Gilda said with mock glee. “And then I’ll cry and say how bad a person I was and march straight out there and apologize to those dwee-” Gilda was cut off as a feather shaped blade buried itself in the end of the desk near her.
“I’m going to cover this once,” Grif said. “If you're going to carry a weapon, then present yourself with some level of decorum. I understand if you will not respect the citizens of Ponyville, but you will not speak disrespectfully about them either. My father had a saying. ‘There are three sides to every story: his, hers, and the truth.’ I have heard one side. Now I asked for yours cause apparently there are some deep seated issues here, and come the end of the week, some gryphons I know will be staying here. I’d like to know if there is going to be trouble to deal with. Right now, there is one blade at the end of the desk. If there are three blades at the end before this conversation is complete, you will be on latrine duty until our contract is up. Is that clear?”
The gryphoness made to speak, but closed her beak as her eyes fell back to the blade. “Fine.” She sighed. “It was a couple years ago. My clan had been attacked in the western kingdom. The attacking clan had ties to the king. I was away, and so when I returned they had me declared clanless for cowardice. Seeing as my family just died and all my gryphon friends decided to recognise me as non-existent, I left Gryphonia behind and headed to Cloudsdale in hopes of finding Rainbow Dash. I found out later from her father that she had moved to Ponyville. Of course Cloudsdale had been blown near Manehattan at this time, and I had no real money for a train ride.”
“Why didn’t you ask Rainbow’s father for help?” Grif asked with a raised eyebrow.
“Me and Rainbow Dash had been friends in flight school. I only met the guy once when I was invited to her birthday party the day before my airship was headed back to Gryphonia. Anyway, one week of flying around hunting down this small town later, I finally manage to find the du-” her eyes trailed to the blade. “... Place, and at that point, finding Rainbow’s house was easy. She was never good with subtlety, after all.” Gilda’s mask cracked a bit as she allowed herself a small grin without realising it. “I asked if I could stay a few days. Just until I could figure things out, you know?” She looked at Grif, who nodded silently and motioned for her to continue. “Me and dash were just about to leave the place the next morning when low and behold, someone starts shouting for her. I looked off the cloud and there she was, Miss. Pretty in Pink herself. I thought Rainbow Dash had gone and replaced me. Then when the pink nightmare got turned down by Rainbow, I thought I was just making things up. After that, the two of us hung out like we did in flight school. Flying, laughing. It was like old times. I thought maybe I’d lost everything, but I still had dash, you know? I still had my friend.” Grif never said a word, but he could see the tears being held back as the gryphoness spoke.
“Thats why I sent the pink one away, okay? Then Rainbow had to leave for a bit, so I figured I would take in the sights. I was so stressed from everything and…” she looked at Grif’s stern expression. “I know thats no excuse, alright? I took the apple cause I didn’t have money to buy food and I hadn’t had a good meal in a while. That was wrong. Scaring the old goa-” Grif threw a second blade “-old pony,” she corrected. “Was wrong. I get it. And fluttershy…” she sighed. “Look. In flight school she always looked at me weird and went out of her way to avoid me. I thought she had something against me. I guess I acted rashly. And then came that stupid party.” Gilda looked to the ground.
“Yes, the party. I’m guessing you figured Ponyville was picking on you? Or at least Pinkie Pie?” Grif raised an eyebrow and got a nod. “Speaking from an experience that I might one day get to tell you, betrayal is hard to take. I’ve been betrayed by friends before, but I also have misread actions for a betrayal.” Grif looked at Gilda. There really was only so much a cartoon tv show could tell you. Going by this new information, Grif didn’t see a bully, but rather someone in pain. He nodded his head decisively. “Gilda, I’m going to be frank with you. While you haven’t agreed to join my clan, I’m going to ask you to anyway.”
“You don’t get it. I didn’t join the mercenaries to survive. I joined them hoping I’d be able to end it all with some honor left. I got no family, no friends, no name. Heck, even this axe is borrowed, and I don’t know how to use the damn thing,” Gilda said, holding up the war axe and dropping it on the desk, vibrating the boards and filling the room with a hollow clanking.
“Gilda, I realize your family can’t be replaced. Aside from pensword, I probably know that better than most here do. But I want the Bladefeathers to be like one. Join our family and I will teach you the old ways. The ways of a true warrior. In that fashion we can rebuild your honor. And while I train you we can bring these issues between you and Rainbow Dash, and even you and Ponyville, to a head and sort them out. We can rebuild your friendship and build new ones. I hear it in her voice occasionally. Rainbow Dash still misses you.” Grif shifted in his seat, his eyes a mixture of stern kindness and hardened will. Look, I have you all contracted till the end of the week. Think about it. Death is an end that will come, but not one that should be rushed to. Let me offer you a new beginning. Take the time, think it over.” He paused a moment, bringing his talon to his beak before returning it to the makeshift desk. “Oh, and see the smiths about getting fitted for a better weapon. Consider that a gift, no matter what way you choose.”
“I...I ...” Gilda began, but Grif held up a talon.
“Go think it over. There will be plenty of time for ‘I’s’, ‘we’s,’ and ‘you’s’ later,” Grif chuckled. Gilda nodded silently, then left, her expression thoughtful and her wings relaxed. He gave her several minutes to be out of earshot.
“So what do you think? Will she take my offer?” Grif asked the not so empty room.
“She’s immature; a haughty girl. Still … she does have a glimmer of potential. And just that right hint of desperation. I think it will take time to truly decide. But if you can help her in this next week, prove to her that you can do what you say, she’ll stay.” Shrial said as she stepped from the shadows, her locket and ring glinting in the light.
“Everyone who stays is one less corpse waiting to happen,” Grif said. “I’d rather not see so many years chopped away needlessly.”
“You can’t save them all, Grif.” Shrial said, soberly.
“Which is why I have to save the ones I can. Honestly, look at this axe. I’d give it two more swings before the thing broke.”
“Someone is going to have to teach Daedalus to reign in those kings one of these days,” Shrial said bitterly. “If he doesn’t, I fear far worse will come.”
“You know, back on earth we had a kingdom with a king that gave too much of his power away,” Grif said. “Now his family is one of the most mocked figures in the world. Another took too much power. They lopped off him and all his supporters heads. Where is the balance supposed to lie, I wonder?”
“Where, indeed? Politics is a dangerous game. And blacker than murder in some cases. The world would do far better without it.”
“Remember that, my dear. And if I ever go off the deep end and go mad with power, do me a favour. End me there,” Grif said as he moved from behind the desk and towards the door. “Looks to be a beautiful night. Perhaps a moonlit flight over the gorge?” he smiled at her.
“I’d love to. Just don’t think like that, alright dear?” She kissed him, lingering on his beak before striding to the window and leaping into the cool night air. With a chuckle, Grif followed her.
Pensword stood in silence as he stared at the rock wall. He looked to his left and Lunar Fang, and then to Luna on his right. He looked back to the wall as a multitude of emotions whirled about in his head. He blinked back a tears as they all waited for the sun to set and the cave entrance to appear. He looked around the empty land. It was still wild and untamed, yet he could tell that time had changed much of what he once knew. Trees had changed locations, undergrowth had risen a little, he could just make out where some digging had happened. He was not sure what it may have been for, but it was there. His unease only grew as he recalled the trenches some ponies had dug in the war for defense and linked them to his human memories of World War One.
His thoughts were soon disturbed, however, by the falling of the sun as Princess Luna spread her wings and took flight, catching the last of the evening rays on her wings. She looked truly stunning as fire played across her starry mane and reflected off of the Ursa Armor. She truly struck a stunning figure. Just as the sun settled and twilight fell, Luna’s horn ignited into brilliant blue light. Her eyes glowed white, stars began to sparkle across the sky, winking on one at a time. And then it rose. The great light of the full moon flew like a chariot as its silver rays shot like arrows to shine upon the entrance of the meeting grounds. When the boulder had moved aside once again, Luna slowly descended, surrounded by a nimbus of blue magic. Finally she touched the ground, the glow died, and the light faded from her eyes. The time had finally arrived.
The passage was just as long as Pensword had remembered, if not longer, leading into the main chamber. But when the trio got there, they stopped dead in their tracks. They had unconsciously been preparing to find a great many possibilities when they entered the chamber, the worst case scenario being remains. Instead, to their astonishment, they found that the inner chamber had nearly doubled in size over the years the thestrals had hidden within. Homes and buildings surrounded them, carved carefully into the stone as Thestrals, oblivious to their guests, continued with daily life. Large support pillars had been set up to add integrity to what could very well be a totally hollow mountain. Gemstones glittered like stars from the rocks and the illumination from bioluminescent fungi caused the cave to give off a spell binding show of millions of points of light. It was almost as if the stars had ventured beneath the great mountain to celebrate the night with friends.
On closer inspection, the cave thestrals seemed to be opposite of the ones who stayed on the surface. Their coat colors were darker, even more so than Luna’s now. Penswords eyes couldn’t pick out a single moonkissed within the masses of thestrals moving about. The two thestral guards of the cave approached them cautiously. But unlike their predecessors of centuries past, now they were dressed in forged ebony armor that was sharp and angular. They carried long spears made from some sort of black wood with ebony spear heads. “Speak, and be recognized,” one spoke, pointing his spear at the three with a squinted gaze.
The middle of the three spoke, his voice strong and firm as it carried into the cave. “I am called Moonkissed Commander Pensword of the Dream Clan of the Bear Tribe.” The guards had stopped them in the shadows, so he stepped forward into the light. The guards started as if waking from slumber. A dim whisper flowed through the cavern at the name, like a stream rushing through a glade.
Next, the pony to his right spoke, stepping forward to bear scrutiny, her fangs at the ready. “I am called Lunar Fang of the Lion Tribe: Warrior and wife to Pensword, and Thestral teacher to High Chieftess Luna.”
One of the guards snorted in derision. “High Chieftess Luna is long gone. As are Commanders Pensword and Lunar Fang. They died long ago.”
Pensword glared. He moved a wing to push the cloak up, not just show his armor and sword, but also the pitchfork at his side. “I carry Concord, a weapon that would never be held by any other save its rightful owner. Pegasi would never allow the weapon of a Commander to be used by any other.”
“A mere forgery and nothing more,” the guard snorted derisively.
Luna stepped slowly forward, looked at the thestral with a cold expression, then released her guise. Glowing with an aura of moonlight that filled the small passage and blotted out the fungi, she glared in her majesty, complimented by her Ursa cloak as it billowed behind her. The lights of the cave looked paltry in comparison. “Gather the chieftains to council, guard. The legends live again. Your High Chieftess has returned, and the commanders of old lie before you. The long rest is ended.”
The thestrals’ eyes bulged in their sockets while the lesser pony who had spoken earlier stood trembling behind his commander.
Pensword’s voice broke the silence like a crack of thunder. “Did you not hear? Did she not give orders? Move! Or have the Thestrals also become as complacent as the guards of the Sun?”
“Y-y...yes, high chieftess.” The guards bowed before running off. Luna returned her guise when they were gone and the brilliant flare of moonlight winked out, returning the rule of the gemstone stars. Yet their light seemed a paltry thing compared to the glory and majesty of the mare in the moon.
“Well, I think that went rather well, wouldn’t you say, Pensword?” Luna asked, smirking.
“It could have gone better,” he said gruffly. “If the Thestrals are as well trained as thy Sister, Faust help us all,” He muttered. “Still, this is one way of returning.”
Lunar Fang paused and looked to Luna. “May I ask why you have not returned till now?” She kept her voice low to avoid any listening ears that might yet be lurking in the shadows.
“I have been back but a few years,” Luna said. “In that time, aside from the curse that is bureaucracy, and the annoyance that is the house of lords, I have had to re-establish myself with dozens of traveling dignitaries, sign countless papers, and settle disputes that were centuries old. I’ve only just now had the opportunity and the correct company for a venture such as this. And while I may have enjoyed hunting that Ursa to make a new armor, I doubt any of our smiths would have been able to craft anything even remotely close to what Hammer Strike could make.”
“We are honored,” Lunar Fang whispered, confident she could speak for both Pensword and her, “That we could be part of this historic venture.”
“You two were there to witness my rise and my fall. Now I will have you witness my rebirth,” she said. “It is only fitting.”
Pensword bowed his head in respect and deferment to Luna. “Shall we proceed? I believe that time has past enough for the Tribe Chieftains to gather.”
“Yes, I believe you are right. I do wonder who has replaced my faithful council.” Luna smiled as the trio made their way towards the familiar meeting place. The pit was deeper than they remembered and the bear in the center had been replaced by an engraving of Luna’s helmet on a large smooth rectangular stone, one on each side. Moonstones shone dimly, hanging from cleverly crafted lamps high above. Their light was much diminished from what Pensword remembered and he frowned, wondering what could have changed that. In the stead of the huts and tents he remembered, houses had been built. Though if one looked towards the heads of the caves, one could see the tops of a few tents still peeking amongst the roof tops. The houses themselves seemed to be made from some kind of clay, keeping to the smell of moist earth and damp that filled the cavern. They rose in layers, linked by ladders for those who may be injured or infirm to climb up and down. Various pulleys and other mechanisms lay there, waiting to pull up packages and other items too large to fly with. From the doorways and roofs, dark furred ponies stared, some pointing with hooves, others whispering secretly, keeping to the darker shadows in the dim light cast by the stones.
Pensword wept inside seeing his people reduced to this. “This has to change,” he muttered softly as they walked to stand where they had once stood so very long ago, waiting to be invited to take Luna’s rightful place, to stand in the center on the stone that bore her helmet. As they waited the Chief and Chieftesses slowly gathered around in their appointed spaces. Once again, Pensword noted their darker fur. The lightness had nearly gone. One or two ponies’ coats stood out completely black. What had caused such a dramatic change?
The thestrals fell to silence as the chieftains turned to face their guests. Standing proudly, an old stallion spoke.
“The chieftains of the thestral tribes have gathered as called. As is my right as speaker of the clans, I, Flurry Fang of The Wolf Clan will speak first.” he said. His mane and fur shone a ruddy russet red, but it was so dark it was nearly black. Scars marked his muzzle including one particularly ugly V shaped scar over his left eye. “You three are welcome in the sacred cave. We have been told the high chieftess is with you?” He asked, his brow raised in a sign of curiosity.
Pensword stepped forward. “She is.” His voice echoed around the meeting pit as he eyed each Tribal leader. A murmur spread across the caves as the great halfling of legend staked his claim. “Presenting High Chiefess Luna Stellarus Galaxia of all organized Thestrals, killer of the Ursa Major, and raiser of the Moon.”
A great hush of silence came over the crowd as the thestrals held their breaths. All eyes were on the commander as they awaited the arrival of the great chieftess of legend. Luna took a deep breath, then stepped forward to the center. With each step, another piece of her guise melted away, revealing the glory, power, and majesty that lay beneath. The tension became thick as the thestrals looked down at her. The Ursa Armor shone with piercing white light. Much as before, her aura burned away the darkness with a silvery light. And as it did, so too did the moon stones, blazing like stars at the rejuvenating presence of the Princess of the Night. “I have returned, my ponies, to bring you back to the light.”
For the first time in many a year, the Thestrals broke decorum and tradition as the cavern erupted into a roar of cheers that echoed over walls, houses, and caves. For a moment, utter pandemonium reigned. Luna smiled, happy to see that the roar was not one of outrage, nor fear, but even as it was for the halflings in the village outside. It was good to know she was still well loved. It made her feel, well, better. Pensword frowned, worried over the comments he heard like warriors blaming themselves and their ancestors for their fate, talk of unworthiness. These would need to be sorted out, and soon. It took eight minutes to quiet the place down. Why eight? Because one of the Thestrals timed it. At last, Flurry Fang spoke again.
“High Chieftess, long have we awaited your return. We Thestrals have suffered sorely in your absence. The council is most pleased to see our beloved Luna back with her people.” Another cheer rang through the halls, though this one was significantly shorter.
“We do hope after your extended absence you will be able to keep up with the changes to thestral society,” the fox tribe leader added in an almost snarky tone. The deep blue mare seemed to hold an uncanny resemblance to her tribe’s animal.
“Oh, I hope to do more,” Luna said, taking the remark in stride. “It is our intent to set up our very own city. A capital to show Equestria just what the thestral’s can be!”
“Are you implying that you intend to rebell against your sister a second time?” The stallion of the Lion Tribe asked in shock. “Set us up as a capital city? These are sacred grounds. Not all may enter these caves, especially after your ... fall. What do you plan?” He hesitated briefly, then spoke once more. “The Lion Tribe will stand behind your voice, even in full rebellion of Equestria.”
“My ponies!” Luna said, laughing a little in the process. “The pegasi have Cloudsdale, the earth ponies have Manehattan, and the unicorn is at home in Canterlot, but where can a threstral look and say ‘we built this city?’ I do not speak of rebellion; only of showing Equestria the greatness that is the thestral culture.”
“Where?” the Manticore Chiefess asked. “Where do we build this capital of Thestral might?” She looked to the Lion Chief. “We shall not rebel, but instead it seems High Chieftess has plans far, far grander.” She turned to look at Luna. “I move that we allow High Chieftess Luna to stand in her rightful place in the center of this meeting.”
“I will not move until it is the gathering’s will that I move” Luna said, looking to the crowd. “Never again will I act against the will of my people.”
“I shall second the motion.” The stallion of the Lion Tribe spoke, causing an opening for a vote of where Luna was to stand.
“All those in favor of accepting High Chieftess Luna into the ranks of the council again, raise your hooves!” The wolf tribe leader called. All the ponies present raised their hooves. “Those opposed?” None moved. “Then it is decided.” The stallion smiled broadly. “High Chieftess Luna, welcome home.”
Luna smiled back as she moved to her spot. “Lunar fang and pensword have graciously offered us the land of fort triumph and it’s duchy,” Luna explained when she reached her appointed place. “The fort is already being defended by the valiant warriors of the Lion Tribe” Luna nodded to the lion chieftain. “Using the fort as a center and building outwards, we believe we could achieve a functional city within six years.”
“You mean that after all this time, we can finally enjoy the night again? Chieftess, to do so would bring so much joy to our children … and to us. Our one concern is what of the ponies who fear us and our reproach? Many feel we would seek vengeance. And it is possible some of us would. How can we defend ourselves should certain ponies seek to mount an attack on us? We do not wish to rouse the hunts again and expose our children to such risk.”
“Much has changed, my ponies. The world is not as cold nor as cruel as you remember. Some of your number even now still live amongst the other ponies just fine. I know it is a leap of faith, and I do not deserve it, but I am asking you to put trust in me.”
“That is News of wonderment,” the stallion of the Dragon Tribe said. “However, is it not tradition to the Ponies of the sun to have nobility in the capital? How long till nobles start moving in and dictating laws, pushing us out again? How long would we have before we must return once more to hide in caves and live as we do now?”
“We shall have nobles this is true,” Luna nodded as she smiled at pensword and Lunar Fang. “You shall be our nobles. I can think of no reward more fitting for the great chieftains and leaders of thestral kind than titles befitting their nature”
The Hall was utterly silent. They slowly looked at one another. It was the Viper clan that spoke next. “Do you say, that we shall, upon leaving our caves, be sitting at the tables of nobles as their equals? How … permanent is your authority to grant new nobility?” The mare smiled, “Because I for one, cannot wait to frustrate their petty plans, and bring some sense to the courts.” She smiled like a fox in a henhouse.
“My lady viper, I am princess of the realm. Sister to Princess Celestia herself. She moves the sun and I move the moon. If the unicorns wish to argue and quarrel over what is well within my right to grant, then they shall do so with me. The earth ponies have gained titles, the pegasi too have entered the nobility. I say it is time the thestrals showed the stuff shirted peacocks the true meaning of nobility.”
“Is there an objection to the plans of the high chieftess?” the wolf spoke up looking around the pit. “As is the custom for a decision of this magnitude, all must be given a voice, and all voices must be heard. We are family and we do not act without the family’s blessing.” He scanned the crowds closely silently waiting to see if any would step up.
The hive’s growth was quite surprising as black chitinous material matted the walls creating large tunnels, corridors, chambers, anti-chambers, and other such areas. Full sized changelings walked through the hive silently to the outside perspective. Though the hive mind buzzed with loud conversations between the changelings themselves, the current drone, and the Queen Mother. Only a few nymphs remained from the last clutch of eggs to have been laid, the small changelings already on the path to adulthood as the pony shaped insectoids worked to finish the hive’s construction before they would be heading out to their assigned points. Soon they would leave the nest to collect love from sources that had been pre-approved. All in all the last four months had been well used by the hive. in the central chamber of the hive, the green pillar sat empty without its usual glow. Me-Me stood beside it, staring with a mixed expression of joy and pain on her face.
“So, what’s going on here?” Hammer Strike questioned as he walked up to her.
“There isn’t enough love currently to sustain a larger population.” Me-Me shook her head. “I had to leave the incubator off for now.”
“This may be a problem then with what I found recently,” Hammer Strike responded. “Care to greet the company?”
“Company?” Me-Me asked. “You mean the birds?”
“I’m pretty sure Blast and Tower are unicorns,” he replied. “If you mean the other changelings that were brought here…”
“Other changelings?” Me-Me asked. “I haven’t heard any other changelings.”
“They hid away,” he said, turning towards the six. “And now they aren’t.”
“I see … And what have you decided to do with them?”
“I don’t know, let them live,” He replied with a shrug. “They didn’t try to kill me, so I don’t see a reason to kill them.”
“And why come to me?” Me-Me asked.
“Because I don’t have a single idea of what to do with them.”
“And you think i have some super secret ability I can use to assure their loyalty?” she asked. “It doesn’t work like that.”
“No, I don’t expect anything like that. I thought you would have at least the faintest idea of what to do with them. If I keep them around Unity, they’ll most likely die.” He sighed heavily.
“I can provide some love for now, but i cannot spare much. Perhaps you need to find a place where they could serve a purpose and feed off of ambient love?”
“I might be able to figure out a place, but thanks for the help in the mean time. There has been enough death, but there always seems to be more to come. At least this one might be delayed or avoided for some time.”
“As a queen, I will live to see many of my children die,” Me-Me said as she worked her spell. “It is something I had to come to terms with not long ago. The best advice I can give you is to take joy in every life, and remember those that fall.”
“I find little joy in it, and recent events didn’t help that.” He replied as his left eye twitched.
“Are there no lives you enjoy being around?” Me-Me asked.
“A little more than twelve that seem to be drifting apart.” He said sadly before returning to his neutral tone. “Anything else you wish to discuss before we leave?”
“More, is there anything else you need to say?” Me-Me countered.
“Unless I’m mistaken, no. I guess we’ll be on our way. It was nice seeing you again.” With that, Hammer strike walked out, the two shields close behind as they left the Changeling Queen’s court.
it had been close to three hours in which the chieftains had heard from dozens of thestrals making their points both for and against the idea. Issues such as proper hunting grounds, the Equestrian bit value in the thestrals’ own complicated trade system, safety while construction went on, and other such issues. Finally, after all this time it seemed as though nopony had anything else to say and the Wolf Tribe leader stomped his hoof. “Are there no more concerns for the family?” he asked. After several moments of silence he nodded. “Very well. All in favor of the high chieftess’ plan?” he asked.
Slowly each Thestral, starting at the Manticore tribe rose a wing, moving as a wave while the rustling flap of leather wings slowly filled and echoed across the caverns. “Manticore votes in favor. Viper votes in favor. Lion votes in favor.” A slight pause broke the motion as they waited for the Fox Tribe to vote. Finally, they raised their wings. “Fox votes in favor. Dragon votes in favor.” The room grew heavy in the silence. “The Wolf Tribe shall vote in favor of the plans of the High Chiefess.” He turned to bow to Luna. “Rarely has a unanimous vote been given. However, tonight we all feel that for us to regain what we have lost and return to the light of the moon, we shall vote in allowance of your plan to blossom.”
Luna smiled, attempting to maintain her poise as silvery tears trickled down her face. “Thank you all for the trust you have placed on me. I will make sure it is not misplaced.”
Pensword blinked. As a historian he felt almost akin to some of the men who knew what their votes were doing over two hundred years ago in his home nation. He was seeing the beginning, the birth of something new. Something grand. He held his peace, content to see history unfolding around him. He would make a record of it for future generations later.
Lunar Fang, on the other hoof, was the opposite. Even in her current condition, she smiled and gave a whoop that seemed to give permission for the others to cheer or celebrate as she wrapped her hooves around her mate’s neck. She paused upon seeing Pensword’s pensive expression. “What’s wrong?” She asked him, unheard by all save Luna.
“I am thinking, and realizing and reminiscing of my past. My country, America, might be described as forming from a vote similar to this. It is not exactly the same, mind you, but parallels could be drawn. We are shaking up the world around us and creating something new.” He frowned. “Not something quite so different and radical as a Republic, but something new nonetheless. Something that will cause waves and reactions unforeseeable in the future.” He smiled finally. “I think I am going to enjoy seeing what happens in the years to come.”
“Let it hereby be said that all thestrals shall begin to prepare for the move. Pack what you require most. Leave anything of value to be retrieved at a later day,” Luna ordered. “Hunters will lead the groups. The sick and injured shall keep to the middle. With respect to the chieftains, I hereby adjourn this gathering.” Luna nodded to the chieftains, who nodded in turn. The return was complete.
Thalia panted, her hot breath and sweaty body steaming in the cool air. She clung to her tomahawks as she crashed her way through the woods. Her fur was covered in blood. Fortunately, most of it was not her own. “By the winds, that was the third Manticore. Just how heavily guarded is this place?” She cursed under her breath as she continued to make her path, her eyes darting as she followed the river. According to that zebra’s directions, the river should lead to a large, walled in enclosure. Supposedly the only way to enter was to face the gatekeeper. The walls were enchanted against any outside force entering unless authorized. She groaned inwardly. “Please, just don’t let me run in to another one of those creatures.” She grumbled.
“My my my, that is quite a bit of blood, my dear. Are you sure you wouldn’t rather wash it off?” Out from the river rose a thrashing sea serpent with red hair and a red and purple mustache. Chunks of ice flow shattered against his scales as he gazed on the gryphoness.Thalia readied her weapons.
“Now now, no need for such violence. I come in peace, young gryphoness, honest I do. The name’s Steven. Steven Magnet.”
Thalia eyed the creature warily. “What do you want from me, serpent?”
“Well, I’m supposed to guard these waters from anyone who wants to steal from the garden, my dear. Though it doesn’t need much protecting, truth be told. It practically takes care of itself. So I just like to explore every once in a while. You know, morning swim, keep the limbs limber and all that. Oh, and of course, I simply must make sure to keep in style. Tell me, do you like my mustache?”
“Um … you are aware that one side of it is purple … right?” Thalia asked as she edged carefully towards the waters. She took the serpent’s advice and began to wash her weapons.
“Oh yes, that. It was a gift, believe it or not, from one of the kindest, most generous ponies a monster could ever hope to meet.” Magnum sighed. “After that mean Nightmare Moon cut my mustache to get into the gardens, I simply fell to pieces. Churning up the waters, destroying bridges, it was such a trying time. You have absolutely no idea. But then that purple maned pony came with the diamond cutie marks. After hearing of my plight, why, she did the most noble thing. Do you know what that was?”
“Um … no. And not to be rude or anything, but I don’t really care. I need to get into the garden. My mother’s life is at stake.”
“She cut off her tail … for me! Oh, the sacrifice it must have taken. She saved me, my dear, absolutely saved me.” He continued on, not having heard the gryphoness.
Thalia steamed. “Hello! Life or death situation here! My mother is going to die if I don’t get some leaves from a tree in your garden. Now point me in the right direction, or at least leave me alone so I can find it!”
The serpent sat, stunned as he stared at the gryphoness. “My, my , such rude behavior. My dear, you’ll never find the garden like that. It’s too well guarded, and magically protected besides. I was going to offer you help, but I’m not so sure I want to anymore. You’re simply too brusque. Not sophisticated enough. And you’re not even willing to listen to someone else speak. An important lesson, my dear. A leader must learn to listen and to be patient while dealing with others. If they simply snap then they will lose what they seek. You’re lucky that Zecora sent word ahead for you. She comes by my river every once in a while to share tea with me. Wonderful Zebra, that one.”
“You know that crazy-”
An angry growl emanated from the serpent. “Do not test me, little girl. I am far older than I appear. And while I do not like violence, I will not allow Miss Zecora to be insulted. Know this. I will take you to the garden because of her request, but that is all the help that you will receive for your actions. Learn from them, and get on.” The serpent glowered and huffed as he extended his coils for the gryphoness to climb on. “An apology would be most appreciated as well.”
“I can make it there-”
“Get on!” he roared. Thalia chose to be silent and do as she was told, feeling cowed for the second time in the last few days. “Wise decision. Hold on now, young lady. You’re about to get wet.” Smiling mischievously, the serpent shoved a plant down the gryphoness’ throat. Before she could react, or even so much as gag, he dove. Thalia clung to his scales as best she could, the surging waters rushing to meet her as the serpent went under.
Behind carousel Boutique Grif and Rarity stood in a large square cleared of snow. The unicorn’s training had been going smoothly so far and Grif had moved to shouting long strings of moves while Rarity tried her best to match as many as she could before Grif finished the string. The two had been at it for the last hour or so and the white unicorn was beginning to show strain, panting heavily.
“Okay, take five, Rarity,” Grif said, noticing the panting. “You almost made it through the chain that time.”
The white unicorn didn’t need to be told twice as she fell to the ground on her flanks. “I certainly didn’t expect it to be so… draining,” she said. “You learned to fight like this?”
“No.” Grif chuckled. “Believe me, my teacher was much more in your face about training. But I don’t think you're ready to leave the training sessions battered and bruised just yet.”
“It doesn’t feel like I’ve progressed that much in the lessons we’ve had,” she agreed. “It hardly feels like I’m moving forward at all, really.”
“Well, much like you always strive to make a better dress design, sword fighting a perpetual skill. As long as you practice it you can only move forward. With no end in sight there is no real way to measure. Many sword fighters make their own, but in truth there isn’t a way to measure someone's potential.” He smiled “You're making good progress. Don’t kid yourself. I might have Shrial come in soon to spar with you, but that won’t be until we have everything sorted out.”
“That sounds like it has more to it than you're letting on, dear,” Rarity said as she pulled a pre-prepared pitcher of water over and poured herself a drink. The drink was ice cold and surprisingly refreshing in the cool weather. “Big things happening around New Unity?”
“You couldn’t even guess.” Grif laughed “What with the rebuilding, we also are trying to find a place for everybody.” Grif lowered his voice “And there’s a wedding to consider at some point in the future.”
“Well, when the happy bride to be is ready, have her come visit me for a fitting.” She replied with a twinkle in her eye. “I am sure I could do something to bring out her inner beauty. And of course, I’ll be needing the groom to be as well.” Rarity smiled as she picked up her rapier again. Her eyes spoke of mirth and mischief that Grif did not know if she had guessed or not just whose wedding he may have meant.
“Actually, I could use your help on another matter,” Grif noted. “Is Rainbow still steaming about Gilda?”
Rarity paused as she sucked on her teeth a little in thought. “Well, I don’t think so. She is still miffed at how she treated her friends though.” She paused and motioned for Grif to step closer. “Don’t say where you heard this, but she is a little down and she feels she let a friend down as well. She is loyal to her friends, but she feels betrayed. At the same time, she sits around wondering if she could have done something to stop the train wreck.”
“You think with the right coaxing those two could reconcile?” Grif asked her.
“That, I cannot answer,” she replied with a thoughtful look. “You would have to ask her yourself. She should be napping at her cloud home before tonight’s weather pattern. She has the night shift for a last minute snow storm before Winter Wrap Up.”
“I guess Winter Wrap Up is close enough for that.” Grif chuckled. “How do you think she will react to the idea? Should I go armed?”
“Dear, even if you were armed, she could most likely take you out with electricity in the clouds around her.” She shook her head. “She naps all the time because she is too good at her job. Her speed is uncanny. I doubt a weapon would help you up there.” Rarity shook her head at the comment. “You may be a weapons master, but Rainbow Dash has mastery of the weather.”
Grif laughed. “Well, I guess it’s time,” he said, standing up again. “Ready position…” And with that the two began their lesson anew.
“No.” Hammer Strike said, looking to the four changelings. He was currently sitting at a desk in his room.
“But then no one will kill us and we make sure no one will kill you. No one gets killed. It is a perfect scenario,” one of the larger changelings said, struggling to grasp his own logic in his new individuality.
“I have enough personal guards,” He replied again before sighing. “I don’t know. Perhaps. Put you on a trial or something to see how it goes.”
“You won’t regret it, Undying one,” the changeling responded happily.
“I think I already am.” Hammer said, rubbing his hoof against his forehead. “Tower, could you show them to a room or something? I need to think more on this…”
“Um … yes, sir.” Tower said, looking warily on the changelings. “This … will take some getting used to.”
“Well, we have gryphons. We’ll probably have thestrals coming. And I’ve heard things from the crystal empire. Whats a few changelings?” Blast Shield shrugged.
“Don’t remind me,” Hammer said aloud.
One of the smaller ones paused. “We could sense if a Changeling is nearby. We feel the buzz of the hive mind, yet we are not a part. We can know, even if a top level infiltrator is nearby. And then there are those we can control with a bite.”
“Who? The other changelings that attempt to infiltrate New Unity?” Hammer asked, his interest piqued.
“That would be a handy skill,” Blast noted. “The lanterns only last so long and we only have so many of them.”
“We’ll see how it goes when it happens,” Hammer replied.
“You mean if it happens, right, sir?” One of the guards under Blast Shield asked. He ducked from the gazes. “Excuse me for not knocking before delivering a report on the construction projects.”
“To answer that, no.” Hammer replied.
Thalia lay on the shore, shivering and gasping for breath. The serpent had taken her through a series of underwater caves, had her battle water spirits, bucked her off, caught her with his tail, nearly made her sick with his acrobats, and now lay sunbathing on the shore like nothing had happened as he groomed his beard. “I … am so … going to kill you.” She panted angrily.
“Now now, temper temper. Just because I moved quickly and took a few shortcuts doesn’t mean you have to get your tail in a twist. And I did get you past the majority of the defenses, which believe you me, would have taken you far too long by yourself. NOt to mention the fact I gave you that magic kelp to help you breathe underwater.”
“You mean the kelp that wore off three minutes before you got me above water?” Thalia growled.
“Anyways,” Magnus said, hastily moving on. “The entrance is just a little ways further up stream. If you will excuse me, I simply must be returning to my lair. Call me at the water’s edge when you have finished your task and I’ll be there to pick you up. Ta-ta, little gryphon.” And with that the serpent was gone, leaving only a few ripples and the backwards surge of water in his wake as he sped along, breaking and speeding ice chunks as he smashed them with his tail..
Thalia rolled her eyes. She didn’t know who to be more frustrated with. The sea serpent for his disrespect, or the zebra for daring to insult her by giving her help. On the other hand though, the serpent had saved her time. And right now she needed every second she could spare to save her mother. After drying her map out in the sun with the directions, she took off again, following the river. True to the serpent’s word, the great walls soon appeared, rising as high as the battlements of the castle at Canterlot. The width of the walls, according to zecora, were immeasurable. Some sort of enchantment, apparently. Looking around, she circled time and time again, trying to find her way in. When she came across her tracks several times stirring the earth around the wall, she took to the air in a frustrated cry, darting as she tried to breach the walls. Yet even as she did so, the stone seemed to rise with her. And even as she exceeded its reach, each dart and dive led her to another part of the wall, shooting out the boundary. She shrieked in frustration.
“What kind of boundary is this?!”
“The magical kind, of course, lassie.” Thalia started, uncertain where the voice had come from, but ready for anything as she gripped her axe.
“Ye know, I’d have let ye in by now if’n ye’d asked the right way. But what with all yer caterwaulin’, I couldn’t sleep a wink. Ye’ve broken me nap time, ye have.”
“What do I care of nap times when my mother is dying? Show yourself!”
“I’ll warn ye lassie, but three times. To get past me, you must speak the rhyme. To see my face and have yer chance, ye must learn to join the dance. Ye cannot always set yer own pace. And if’n ye try, your quest is a waste. The dangerous game is yet to come. But first call to me as the others have done. Then bid ye welcome, I’ll do my best. Ye’ll be as the others, a welcome guest, to seek in my garden what ye will. But you must show respect first, still.” Laughter rang through the clearing. “Well now, lassie. Three tries, and your first is already used up by yer rude intrusion. Choose the other two wisely.”
“What is this, a riddle game? I do not have time for games! My mother will lose her foot, or worse if I do not hurry. Innocent lives will be lost. I must get into this garden!”
“Two tries ye’ve lost. And one now remains. But one magic word would make things plain. Of course, when spoken, it must be sincere. Else the magic won’t work, and the garden disappear.”
“A magic word?”
“Indeed. Tis common enough. But have ye the wisdom and the humility tae find it? Now there’s the question. Think Carefully, lass. I’ll wait as long as ye need.”
Thalia fumed for a while, wanting to lash out at something, anything. But even as she glared, she thought of her mother. What would she do in a situation like this? How would she act? And more importantly, how could Thalia hope to save her if she lost her chance at the tree? Like it or not, she needed to approach this calmly and rationally. So, she holstered her axe and took a deep breath. “... May …” She choked on the word, swallowed, and started again. “May I … ask questions?”
“Wehehell. The lass actually asked nicely? Now this is a shock. Your kind have always been rude in the past. Never got in. Questions, you say. Well, it never hurts tae give a little information here and there, I suppose. And I’m feeling peculiarly generous today. Ask away, lass. But remember, the clock is ticking.”
“You say I need to speak a magic word. But in your riddle you said I needed to speak a rhyme. Were you lying to me?”
“Nay, lassie. Both be true. The word is key tae the puzzle. Then ye must speak yer rhyme tae seek entry. If’n ye guess right, I’ll show meself and let ye in. If’n ye guess wrong, well, at least ye’ll have gotten farther than any of yer kind has before.”
“How am I supposed to guess this rhyme without any clues?”
“If’n ye’ve listened, then ye’ll already have the clues ye need. And the tools fer the craftin’.”
“You said I’ll be the first of my kind to make it this far. What happened to the others?”
“They got their proper dues. Try tae cheat n’ye’ll fail every time.”
“So they’re dead?”
“Some. Others are in a manner of speaking. And others went home empty handed. The best chance is tae best me in me game. As I said in me riddle.”
“And it’s one magic word?”
“Aye.”
“I don’t know magic. How am I to guess it?”
“Oh this one’s common knowledge. Some might say it’s the most powerful one in the world, lass.”
“How so?”
“It opens doors, and plays at the heart. Awakens compassion, brings mercy, fosters love, shows humility, acts as a motivator and a healer, and much more besides. All from a simple word.”
“All that from just one word?”
“Aye. The old and the young alike use it. Though more the old than the young. For some it is taught, for others, learned. Others still reject it and the magic it brings. For them, the world is often harsh and cruel, and few if any love them.”
Thalia sat and pondered, looking back to the river where she had her most recent adventure, remembering the sea serpent who had helped her so begrudgingly. Then she considered what the voice had said. Betrayal had been all that she’d known in Gryphonia. No kindness, no love save from her mother and some few close friends in their band. What could it be that her people were missing to make this so? Surely, that must be the word. Then it hit her. But … no, it couldn’t be. That would be too simple.
“Time’s almost up, lassie. What’s the word?”
Thalia started. “What? No! It can’t be. I’m not ready yet!”
“Ten seconds, lass. And counting.”
“I need more time.”
“I’m sorry lass, I can’t do that for ye. The rules are the rules. Me hands are tied. Ye’ll have to choose.” Thalia’s eyes darted frantically as she tried to find the source of the voice, but to no avail.
“Choose.”
“I can’t!” Tears stung her eyes. “I just can’t. Please! I can’t afford to fail. I can’t lose her. Please!”
The air seemed to warp and bend over some strange shape as it bobbed about. And yet, a merry tune began to play, complemented by the voice. “A difficult word you now have said, when pride has reared its ugly head. But now you’ve struck a mortal blow against your true and inner foe. What once had ruled so cold and long, ye’ve felled and so I sing this song. Ye’ve found the word, now form the rhyme. To call my name. There’s little time.” The shape continued to bob and weave about her, even as Thalia stared, shocked. ”Kaloo, Kallay, oh what a day. A gryphon girl has come to play. And oh the fun she’s sure to bring. I cannot wait, and so I sing. A lesson she has learned today, to serve her to her final day. So come, me lass cheer up, don’t cry. All will be well. Ye shall not die. The door awaits the final key. So speak the rhyme and call to me.” Laughter danced around her, bobbing in time to the distortion.
Thalia closed her eyes, thinking again. If memories served her in stumbling across the word, then memory could serve her again. She thought back to Zecora and the notes she had written down. If only she had paid more attention to the zebra. Still, he, that is to say the voice, said both of his hints were true. So whatever his name is would have to rhyme with please.
“That’s it, me girl. Think long and hard. Even the most cunning must pause to think at times.” Cunning. That’s it! She flashed back to Zecora’s words.
“Azeez is a cunning creature of fae. He loves to rhyme and loves to play. A challenge he always presents, to fit each race and creature bent on entering his garden sweet. To lay eyes on it is a special treat …” She could not recall the rest, but hopefully this would be enough. Surely, this must be the elusive Azeez.
“Oh please, oh please, most wise Azeez, will you not open your garden to me? My quest is just, my cause is pure. Please show yourself, and the path to the door. Please guide me and warn me with wisdom supreme. Please, help me. Please help me. Please, help me, Azeez.” And with the sound of shattering glass, the distortion broke. Flipping in the air and onto his hooves, a strange creature appeared, covered in hair with two straight horns curving over his wavy hair. It’s head was that of a goat with larger, intelligent eyes similar to the ponies, only more mischievous. His fur shone a russett brown in the sunlight and reflected his nature. An expertly carved walking stick portrayed an endless swirl of light and dark wood ending in two gnarled heads on the top. Its tip lay embedded in the ground, resting in one five fingered hoof tipped hand while the other lay held out in a grand gesture. An emerald green vest was buttoned up his torso and he played with one of the buttons as he doffed his matching cap, grinning all the while.
“Well done, lass. Well done indeed. In all me years, you’re the very first of your kind tae guess me riddle. I’ll help ye all I can. After all, me word is me bond. Azeez is the name. Azeez the satyr. At your service.” He doffed his cap and bowed dramatically, his little goat tail swishing with glee. Just behind him, a great wrought iron gate stood, staring starkly out at the world. “Welcome to me home, and welcome to me garden.”
Thalia stared as she walked through the gates. It was like she was entering another world as she gazed on all the bushes, trees, flowers, and creatures. The cold of winter melted away to the gentle warmth of an early summer. She managed to identify a few of the herbs and weeds growing thanks to the foraging skills she had developed scavenging for healing herbs and plants to help the wounded of their band. However, for the most part, this was all new terrain. Parasprites drifted lazily through the air while a cerberus pup jumped playfully across the path.
“What … is this place?” Thalia asked.
“Me garden, of course. Some like to call it paradise,” Azeez said as he pranced around her, his curved horns glinting in the sunlight as he played his panpipes. “Now, me lass, I’ll have to be warning ye. I can’t be with ye for the whole journey. I can only offer ye some practical advice.”
“I’m listening,” Thalia said, her eyes intent.
“Me garden has a few basic rules to visitors. Rule number one: don’t leave the path. Rule number two: don’t eat anything. And rule number three: Get out as fast as ye can once ye’ve got what ye came for. Of course, there are exceptions, but in this case, since ye’re an outsider and a first comer, I’m afraid those won’t be applyin’ to ye.”
“And if I don’t follow this … practical advice?”
“Then ye won’t be gettin’ what ye’re after. And ye’ll likely be trapped here forever. Happy, but trapped. If’n ye do manage tae leave when ya fail, few do the same way they entered, and less the same way they came in,” he said cryptically. “Good luck, lass. I’ll be waiting for ye on the other end.” With that, Azeez the satyr disappeared, running off into the underbrush after the little pup. “Stop! Don’t eat my azaleas!”
Grif looked over the horizon onto the fields of sweet apple acres as the snow was being plowed away. Winter wrap up had come to ponyville. As such, the gryphon had offered the services of the guard to the citizens to aid in the proceedings. The extra earth ponies and pegasi were proving a much needed boon on the small town as they worked hard to help bring in the Spring.
The integration of the gryphons into ponyville had gone far easier than Grif had feared. The ponies took his explanation without a second thought. There were, of course, always one or two ponies who had something personal against so many gryphons living nearby, but they kept their opinions to themselves.
The only problem had come from the foals. To be more specific, one set of particularly bratty foals. Grif had taken the time to explain to both parents and foals of ponyville that the fledglings had originally been given little time for things like playing. Most of them had been trained to fight to some degree; and in gryphon society youngsters were encouraged to scrap at even the smallest things.
Most foals had taken the warning to heart, keeping their actions and words in check, and coming to Grif if there was a problem regarding the hatchlings. They made sure to give them their space. Although pipsqueak had managed to befriend a few of them, and the Ponyville Pirate Crew had gained a few new sets of wings in the process.
Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon, however, as always, believed themselves untouchable to consequences regarding their actions. Even after the first dozen scraps that broke out between a hurt or insulted fledgling and the two foals had taught them nothing. Filthy Rich had been by a dozen times to try and find some solution for the problem and Grif was forced to find the offending fledglings’ parents, who listened to Filthy Rich’s explanation calmly before cursing the stallion for the cowardice to interfere in his daughters’ mistakes. Then they would set off to congratulate their child on his or her victory.
Grif rubbed his temples, sitting against a tree while he watched some ponies and gryphons sweep snow off the Town Hall’s roof. He had managed to pay off Bon Bon to introduce the youngsters to the world of sweets by closing down her store and allowing the children to sample what they would. He caught the familiar flap of wings and, without looking up to the sound, began to speak.
“I don’t know what to think, Shrial. On the one hand the bully finds out that not everyone simply takes it. On the other, I can’t let them become the bullies themselves.” He sighed. “What do I do?”
“It’s a difficult problem to solve, that’s for certain,” Shrial said as she dropped gently to the ground. “Perhaps you should have them form a squad of sorts. Something similar to a platoon, but designed to monitor activity in the school instead. If someone get’s out of line, they would have the skill and authority to take the offender to the powers that be. Then they can tell the tale truthfully. If they were to lie, their honor would be sullied. So the teachers can expect honest accounts from them. They’d just need to know in advance to escort the ponies without hurting them.”
“Thats sounds like an amazing idea and I would implement it immediately if not for the small fact that the current school teacher still despises our existence.” Grif said, his eyes closed as his beak pulled back in an unpleasant grimace. Then he let out an exasperated sigh.
“It sounds like they need to earn her respect then, just as Pensword needed to earn it from his people. Perhaps you should counsel with him on the subject.”
“I suppose so. But you didn’t come here to shoot the breeze with me. Is the ‘family’ behaving themselves on the southern fields?” Grif asked.
“They’re settling in well enough. A few duels have broken out, but nothing too serious. They’re not so extreme as the empire used to be. They’re all worried about Kalima though.”
“Her daughter will return,” Grif said with an iron surety. “Tomorrow I’m going to need you to look after things, however.”
“What for?” Shrial asked, her eyebrow raised.
“I have had a long talk with kalima about my recent problems. She has shown me the course of action I need to take. But I can’t be around the castle while I am performing what needs to be done. … The damages will be heavy.”
“What are you going to do?” Shrial asked, her gaze hardening with her tone.
“When I became one, I left some parts out that have been trying to manifest themselves. I need to correct that. And it won’t be a seamless transition.”
“So, if we see a tornado in the distance, we’ll know it’s you.”
“The only things in danger will be the quarry eels,” Grif said, raising a hand in a peaceful gesture. “And they, at least, aren't sentient.”
“I will do this. But only if you swear to come back to me alive and well,” She said, kissing him on the beak.
“If I have to kill the grim reaper, himself, I will always come back to you,” Grif said as he wrapped his wings around her. “Always.”
Despite Tower and Blast Shield’s protests about their lord going through the forest on his own, Hammer Strike was doing just that, having won the argument. He wanted to have some time to himself. New Unity was full of ponies and gryphons, and he knew there were bound to be interruptions to any restorations he wanted to try. So he did the only logical thing he could think to do with the weight of the world on his shoulders.
He took a break.
While most wouldn’t find a walk through the Everfree Forest a pleasant experience, Hammer Strike was fine with it. He wore his lightly plated blue and gold overcoat for protection. With his strength and pain tolerance, it was all he’d need. Beneath his favorite coat a ‘small’ longsword hung from its belt and sheath, waiting to be used in the event of a conflict.
Hammer Strike stopped suddenly, feeling the distinct impression that he was being watched. Scanning the gnarled and twisted trunks of the woods, his eyes fell upon a large furry creature with slitted leonine eyes. Its scorpion tail twitched lazily behind it in a relaxed stance. It sat down and stared at him for a time, cocking its head.
Neither of the two moved. The manticore continued its scrutiny, even as Hammer Strike returned its gaze. About twenty seconds later, he sighed.
“Wonderful,” He said, his voice laced with sarcasm. He lifted his hoof off the ground and pointed in the direction to his left. “Go. Now.”
The manticore looked curiously at the pony, then to his hoof, then to where it was pointing. It blinked a few times, whether in disbelief or out of some other need, before it yawned. The it stood up and stretched, pushing its paws into the snow as it did so. Lastly, it tossed its mane in the sun before turning in the direction Hammer had pointed and walking off. Shaking his head in disbelief, Hammer Strike continued on his path. It would seem that even in the chaos of the Everfree, he would still be forced to meet with distractions and interruptions.
Thalia walked cautiously along the path, eying the many bushes and trees with their varied fruits. The scents were mouth watering, or at least they would have been to an equine. Being a gryphon, she preferred meat. Still, she could not deny the allure as she eyed the berries and fruits while the wild herbs filled the air with a spicy fragrance. Off in the distance she could see a swarm of parasprites feasting on a giant tree. It seemed to be producing as many fruits as the sprites were eating, despite their multiplication. Shocking.
Below she noticed what looked to be a hairy equine sleeping soundly as drops of juice from a tree blossom dripped into its mouth. With each drop, the creature puffed up, expanding as it breathed in and out. Then it hacked, then it gacked, and finally, a new parasprite shot from its mouth before lashing at the fruit. Thalia shuddered as she noticed two translucent wings rising and falling with the creature’s breath. Had that thing once been a pony? What did that tree do to it? She hurried along, not wishing to catch their attention. Clearly, there was more to this garden than met the eye. Perhaps Azeez was right to warn her to stick to the path.
Continuing along, Thalia noticed the young cerberus pup, this time with three flower collars around its neck, running across the path again. A strange creature surrounded by a cloud of petals blew by, running with the pet and giggling as it followed while the pup yipped and barked back. She was so caught up in the events, she didn’t see the stallion standing in the road until she bumped into him, falling to the ground as the big pony stared down at her. His dark blue coat shone in the sun.
“Sorry about that.” He chuckled deeply as he reached down. “Here, let me help you up.” Before she could protest, Thalia was yanked off the dirt and set back on her feet. “The name’s Big Guns. Pleased to meet ya.” He bowed his head, his sunny yellow mane flashing in the afternoon light of the garden. Curious, Thalia eyed the pony’s flanks. Sure enough, his cutie mark was there, portraying a large, muscular minotaur arm with a cannon tattooed onto it. “Anything I can do for you, ma’am?” He asked politely as Thalia stared. This pony was as big as she was. How was that possible?”
“I … I am searching for the center of the garden. Where the waters meet. There’s something I need to retrieve from there to help my mother.”
“Sick, is she?” Thalia nodded her head. “Weak, needs a little boost?”
“... Sort of.”
“You wanna cure her?”
“Yes.”
“I got just the thing. Follow me!” Big Guns grinned, walking into the underbrush. A few seconds later, he re-emerged from the thicket, eying her carefully. “Well? You coming or not?”
Thalia eyed him warily. “Azeez warned me not to stray from the path.”
“You won’t be straying. This garden is filled with paths. They all connect to the heart of the garden. Why waste all that time when I can just take you to what you need now?”
Thalia stared down the path, then back at the stallion. He had promised a quick and easy way to save her mother. But this was Azeez’s garden. After seeing that tree and what it did, she didn't doubt that there was some fruit here that could save her mother. But which ones were safe? And who could she trust? Time was of the essence. She had to choose.
“Look. If you don’t trust me, I understand. But I used to be a sickly, weak little pony with hardly a prayer of surviving. I went into the everfree on a dare because I wanted to be accepted. I stumbled on Azeez’s garden here and pretty much just fell through the gates. I was dying of thirst and hunger, but every time I went to try something, it just didn’t taste right. I spat it out before I could swallow. That’s when I found this one tree. Its scent called me to it. I ate its fruit and now look at me! I’m strong, I’m healthy. Those bullies back home wouldn’t hold a candle to me now. I’m sure that it can help your mom too.”
“You really mean that?”
He snorted impatiently. “Trust me. Come on!” He said, his voice gruff. Thalia took one last look down the path, eyed the afternoon sun, then looked back to Big Guns. “Alright, lead the way.” The stallion grinned and raced into the underbrush. Thalia followed hot on his hooves.
Princess Celestia sat in the palace gardens enjoying the company of Lord Fancy Pants as they discussed trade in the kingdom and the impact of current events. She was just about to interject and introduce a counter argument on the benefits of trade relations with the Zebrican nation when her horn began to tingle. She smiled politely and looked to the noble apologetically. “I am sorry Fancy, but I believe my sister is contacting me.”
“Of course,” the lord said, nodding sagely as his monocle glinted in the sunlight. “We can continue our discussion of economics later. Perhaps tomorrow afternoon at my manor over a cup of tea?” Fancy Pants asked with a smile as he exchanged a knowing look with Fleur dis Lis, his wife. She giggled as she returned the gaze, then turned to the Princess.
“Oh, yes. It would be such a pleasure to have you over again, Princess. Why, we haven’t been able to entertain you since my husband’s last birthday party.”
Celestia laughed. “All right, all right, you’ve convinced me. I would be happy to return to House Pants,” she said. “Now if you would excuse me, I really must go. I trust you know the way.” The lord and lady nodded and bowed as she turned, trotting into the hedge maze. When she was certain she had travelled deep enough to escape detection, she closed her eyes and teleported to the door to her vault. After draining the heat and magic, she walked into the room, confident that her secret was safe.
Using her telekinesis, Celestia pulled a sheet off the wall, revealing an ornately crafted crystal mirror edged in a golden frame. Rubies, sapphires, crystals, and other rare gems dotted the surface, adding that element of sparkle and rainbow that her mane was so famous for. The surface glowed a soft blue, indicative of the user’s aura trying to make contact. She hesitantly touched her horn to the surface. In mere moments, Celestia was staring at the face of her sister in all its fairness and gentility. Her Ursa helm stood out prominently, accenting the flowing blue mane of the Princess of the night. “Luna?” she called out, not sure whether to weep or laugh. “I thought your mirror had been lost.” A pleasant warmth filled the Princess of the Sun as she gazed upon her sister. The many miles between them did not seem so far anymore now that she could see Luna again face to face.
Luna responded with a cheerful smile. “It was recovered by the Thestrals before they went into hiding. Once they reinstated me as High Chieftess, they immediately returned it to me. … Tia, they forgave me. They took me back.” Tears swam in the mare’s eyes as she spoke. “They have … altered slightly, but they will be returning with me. Come this week’s end, we make for Triumph.”
“Triumph? Well, I guess that is in order as there are Thestrals there as well. Then you’ll go on to Mountainside Falls for the Dream Clan, correct? When should I expect to see you in Canterlot again?”
“I will be returning to canterlot within the month.” Luna paused. “... I will need to collect my things. Please, tell my night guard to prepare for a move, Sister.”
“A move? Where?” Celestia asked, her voice distressed as she took a step towards the mirror. “Is it because of the grievances of the Thestrals? Is it to show solidarity for those that have placed you on a pedestal?” Celestia struggled to keep the tears at bay, blinking rapidly even as her eyes grew watery. Her voice became choked, and her face fell. Guilt marred her visage, aging her appearance by a millenium in but a single moment. “Why, Sister?” she asked. “Is it something I have done to you?” She shook her head as if to banish a thought. “Why?”
“Celestia. … Tia,” Luna said, her voice as gentle and kind as it had been all those years ago. “The sun and the moon move across the sky, but they do not sit under the same roof but once a year. How long do you think it would take before we began to fight again? A hundred years? A thousand, perhaps?” Luna sighed heavily. “I have thought about this for a long time, Tia. Your place is with the ponies of Canterlot. Mine must be with my thestrals.”
“Lulu,” Celestia whispered. “Can, can you at least stay a few weeks? Send things out over time?” She gulped. “At least come back to Canterlot to,” She paused. “How did you put it? ‘Upstage the houses that have grown weak on their own coin with your plans?’ Please, at least stay until your bill comes before the Lords.”
“I will return to Canterlot after construction has begun. We shall discuss for how long at that time.” Luna sighed heavily. “Please, Sister, do not think of this as an action against you. You once told me that we have a duty that is not our own; a place where we must be. Where we are truly needed. … I finally found that place, Tia.I know where I am needed.” This time tears stood in Luna’s eyes, falling freely down her cheeks: the essence of joy blended with sorrow.
Finally, Celestia regained her composure and smiled. If her sister had found her place at last, she would not deny her. “I know, Lulu. I shall see you after you have broken ground.” She sniffled and wiped her eyes with a hoof. “How ... how was your return handled by your ponies? I wish you could have gone sooner. They needed their Princess.”
“I will never be their Princess.” Luna said, holding her head high, even as the tears dried. “Only their chieftess.”
“Very well, their Chieftess then.” Celestia responded with a knowing smile. It would seem the old Luna she loved was coming back in earnest now. “How is Lunar Fang holding up? My guards tell me that house Pen shall soon have an heir apparent. And how many new houses of Nobility do you plan to establish?”
“I must give greater nobility to each chieftain and lesser nobility to every clan leader. No other promise would be acceptable or fair.”
“Wonderful. That would give the Builders’ Guild quite a lift. I’ll have to meet with them to discuss expanding the council chambers for any joint meetings. I take it you have plans to build your own Hall of Nobles? Or will it be a Lodge of Nobles?”
“I’ve not begun the plans yet. We must arrive first. I still have yet to decide if I will make use of the castle or simply build a house for myself.”
“Very well.” Celestia replied. “We can discuss this further when you reach Triumph.” She paused mid-farewell as a thought occurred to her. “I shall need to talk with Cadence about reintroducing these mirrors into Equestrian Society. If we are to rebuild our military again, we will need an effective communication system. “Good luck, Sister. Call me again when you reach Triumph.”
“Of course, Tia.” Luna smiled peacefully before she vanished from the mirror’s surface.
Celestia paused as she looked at the mirror. “Lulu…” She sighed and turned around. “I’m so sorry for what happened back then. May this bring the happiness you wish.” With that, she clopped her way back outside the vault, slowly closing the door as all in the room faded to black.
“Are we there yet? It’s nearly dusk,” Thalia said pointedly.
“Just wait a second. The garden’s a big place. I need to get my bearings,” Big Guns said as he darted his head back and forth. Then he snuffled the earth with his nose. He looked up at the skeptical brow Thalia raised. “What? It’s primitive, but effective,” He said defensively as he trotted to the right. “This way.” The large trees and underbrush provided a beautiful canopy to the barely used road. Wild grasses and other greens sprouted like weeds as Big Guns raced on. His footing became more sure as they began to hit an incline.
Five minutes later, they stood before a massive tree overlooking the garden. The great wall Thalia had tried to breach before loomed above her once again. A large stream flowed merrily along beside the tree’s roots through a large water gate. Judging from the size, she could guess what creature it might have been designed for. Saving her anger over this new development for the next time she met the sea serpent, Thalia turned to get her bearings, only to balk at what she saw.
What she thought to be a small enclosure now looked like a jungle of a garden. Green fields, grasses, plants, and trees stretched for miles and miles as far as the eye could see. There was no sign of the wall in sight. Instead, her keen eyes picked up the glint of sunlight playing on many streams and rivers. Far in the distance, she could just make out what appeared to be some sort of lake shining like a mirror.
“See? I told you I’d get you to the right place,” Big Guns said, breaking through her shock with his voice. It sounded deeper than she remembered. “Welcome to my home. This clearing is guaranteed to be free from any monster, demon, fae, or anything else that could try to do me harm. If anything wants to get up here, it has to want the fruit.”
“And you swear this fruit can help my mother?” Thalia asked.
“On my Father’s grave,” he said solemnly, licking his lips as he shuddered in pleasure.
“How?”
“The fruit gives you what you want most.” He said, swallowing repeatedly as his mouth salivated. “I wanted power and acceptance. I was tired of being the runt in the herd. It gave me strength. It still gives me strenght. Always.” A dreamy look came over his eyes. “It smells so good, doesn’t it?”
Thalia’s stomach grumbled as the scent of the fruit hit her. She was indeed hungry, and she liked the idea of being strong. But this was for her mother, not herself. She had to remember that. Besides, she’d brought her own supplies for just such an occasion. She pulled out a strip of jerky and bit into it. Most of the salt had been washed off the outer coating, but the seasonings held within the tender dried meat. She swallowed quickly and her hunger settled.
When she turned again, she beheld Big Guns eating a massive fruit shaped like a strange combination of Watermelon and tomato. The skin was soft and fuzzy: streaked by jagged bolts of yellow and red. Dark juice gushed down his muzzle as he feasted, moaning.
“This tastes so great. I can feel myself getting stronger.” And even as he said, so it was as his frame began to tremble and grow. His mane grew a little shorter as his muscle mass increased. “Good to be strong, big, powerful.” He snorted as he gorged on the rest of it before snatching another fruit in his teeth. Thalia’s eyes widened. Big Guns was bigger than that red pony she had seen delivering apples to the compound now.Taking a big bite, he consumed half of the large fruit in one go and swallowed it down, his big throat bulging as it made its way, maintaining its increased girth even as the fruit found its way to his stomach. Cords of muscle stood out, working themselves larger and larger the more he chewed. All the while, he spoke to himself as if in a dream.
“Big Guns won’t have to fear about puny ponies again.” The stallion tossed his head as his mane became short cropped. The once bright yellow darkened, stained by the massacre of the fruits as juice sprayed over his body. A crimson red replaced it. “Big guns will smash little ponies.” Two large lumps had formed on the pony’s head and were slowly pushing outwards, even as his head began to expand. A sharp crack filled the air as his front hooves began to separate. Thalia looked on in horrified fascination. What had she just gotten herself into?
Three days had passed since Luna had conversed with her sister. The tribes were on schedule for their pilgrimage to Fort Triumph and it seemed as if nothing could possibly go wrong. Even when they came across the mysterious contraption on wheels, she still felt confident and happy. Steam puffed out from its spouts while cylinders turned and pumped up and down to provide the locomotion. Its large barrel spun slowly as it sputtered while the large bulb on its top zapped weakly, sending a green bolt of electricity arcing with each jerk and sputter of the machine. A large front bumper gave it the appearance of a steam engine while its black fenders and headlights gave the impression of an old automobile Pensword recalled from Earth. He knew the machine immediately for what it was and who the riders were. The others looked on in confusion as the two unicorns in white and blue striped shirts with straw hats gawked, then lurched to a stop as the machine slumped to the ground. It had finally given up the ghost.
“I say, my brother, that this is a most inopportune time for our mode of locomotion to have gone from operational to inpoperaple,” The unicorn with the mustache said as he doffed his cap.
His brother mimicked the movement. “I concur, dear brother mine. However, opportunity seems to be knocking as we have a group of, I do say we may be witnessing a migration of ponies.” He expertly flipped his hat back onto his head. “Maybe they can help us repair our mode of locomotion, Flim?” He asked.
“I concur, Flam. It never hurts to ask. We even have the fortune of being in the presence of such an unknown in Equestrian society.” Flim spoke with a smile, mirrored by his twin.
“... I do not trust these two,” Lunar Fang said to Pensword as she glared suspiciously.
“I agree with Lunar Fang. These two seem … strange,” Luna said.
“I say we hear them out. If we are not able to listen to the plight of others,” He said, looking to the machine. “How can we show Equestria we are able to coexist with them?” He held a wing up to Lunar Fang’s muzzle before she could object. “I said we would listen. We do not have to help them if we can not do so.”
She sighed and nodded. “Very well. But I still don’t trust them.”
“Nor do I,” Pensword whispered back.
“... Alright, Pensword. I shall leave this in your hooves. I hope you know what you’re doing,” Luna said, eying the approaching ponies. He smiled as the two walked up. “Trust me.”
“I do say, what brings you upon the far roads of Equestria?” Flim asked the group.
“Agreed, and is there anything we can do to help you folks along?” Flam asked, following up with his brother.
“We are fine, thank you. However, it seems that your transportation is not doing so well.” Pensword held a wing up to show he was still talking and avoid the fancy footwork he knew would be coming. “While we are fine and we have been able to handle living on our own for a while, we do not have the tools, nor the means to repair your ‘mode of locomotion.’ There is a settlement down the road a ways. I am sure you could find a mage that can help repair your ... unique invention.”
“We really do need to keep moving,” Lunar Fang added quickly.
The two looked at each other before nodding. Though their faces were less than pleased. “Very well. My brother and I shall be on our way. How far did you say this town was?”
Pensword smiled mischievously. “Oh, about a day’s hike back the way we came.” The twins’ faces fell even further as Flim’s moustache went limp. They slowly plodded off until they shrank into the distance. Pensword watched them trot forlornly towards the town, then looked to the others. “I would like guards posted on that machine. I want to at least show we are not heartless.” He waited till they were out of hearing. “I wonder if they will be surprised they got there faster. After all, we were traveling slower than they could trot, were we not?” he laughed, looking to his mate.
“I don’t think that’s their main concern right now,” Lunar Fang noted.
“Then what is?” Pensword asked as they continued their hike towards Triumph. “You know I enjoy hearing your opinion. We are a team.”
“I think right now they’re concerned about how they're going to move that contraption from here all the way back to town,” she snickered.
“Which is why I left guards to protect it. And if they ask politely, they’ll even help. But still, we have to keep moving.”
“Hard to believe that the thestrals are going to have their own capital,” she said. “It’s got to have been more than two thousand years since we had individual cities.”
“I wonder what the next fifty will see. You do realize one city will lead to two as the lands will become not just one city, but a county. A real Thestral land.” Pensword looked to the horizon and their unseen destination. “I look forward to that future.”
“We both do.” She smiled, placing a wing on his back.
“And you shall live to see it.” Luna said, smiling kindly at the couple. “We all will.”
Even as he continued to shift, Big Guns reached up with increasingly bulky arms to shove fruits into his now much larger muzzle. His chest and shoulders broadened as he heaved, snorting heavily as he continued to eat the fruit. His frame expanded, filling out with muscle and power as his coat darkened, turning black as night. At last, he stood, domineering and powerful as his horns grew into two perfectly curved white skewers. He got up from the ground, towering over Thalia, and flexed, revealing a cannon tattoo with a pile of balls that stood on his right bicep. He bellowed, then looked on her and laughed, his voice deep, gravelly, and husky. “See? Big Guns is strong. No one can hurt him. You try, puny gryphon. Big Guns will beat you.” He laughed again, then grabbed another fruit. He shuddered and continued to pose and flex, admiring himself and his strength as he eyed his reflection in the stream. Then he paused, his expression confused.
“Tiny pony … what you do in water?” Thalia rose into the air, confused until she saw what Big Guns could see. There, where the reflection of the minotaur was supposed to be, his former self looked up, sad and frightened. The pony was bone thin, its cutie mark gone as it trembled in place. It couldn’t be much larger than a foal. It seemed as if he were trying to say something, but all that came out was the whisper of the passing stream. Big Guns grabbed another fruit and chomped into it, swallowing heartily as he looked down on the reflection. It screamed, but again, no sound could be heard. Big Guns just smiled. “Little Pony is funny.” He chuckled and pointed at the horse as its mane turned red. It felt with its hooves and cried out as a glowing root touched it in the stream bed.
Meanwhile, between bites and laughs, a golden mist was gradually streaming out of the new minotaur’s snout and making its way towards the tree, which was now nearly bereft of fruit. It shook in a sudden breeze, its leaves whispering as the first tendrils from the new minotaur’s snout made contact. The leaves began to glow, then shift as they turned white. Soon enough they morphed into buds and rapidly bloomed into blossoms. Meanwhile, the root continued to glow, pulling at the reflection in the water, even as it went through the same changes its former owner had. Blue tendrils swam up the root on its left side while red pumped back down on the right in equal portions. Soon enough, the reflection began to pose, following the minotaur, which made Big Guns laugh all the more. It looked on in horror at itself, then looked up to the gryphoness. It shuddered as its muscle began to grow. It mouthed over and over. “Help me.”
Thalia stared in horror as the pony changed from ectomorph to mesomorph, filling with the red as its eyes began to glow, pumping and posing against its will. Slowly, it smiled blankly. Then its fur darkened. The root thickened as the blue tendrils grew less prominent, more red pushing through. A bright flash drew her attention back to the tree as Big Guns continued to pose and laugh. The mist had thickened and now hovered around the creature as he continued to snort it out. Thalia watched as the tree creaked and snapped, growing wider and taller as its blossoms sucked up the substance. She sneezed as some of it got up her beak, then rose higher to avoid it, the wind from her wings keeping it at bay. Her red plumage still glowed with flecks of gold in the evening light, even as she looked down.
“What is this stuff?” She asked, brushing her hand through her plumage to bring the substance up for closer scrutiny. “Looks like … pollen?” She looked down at the water once more, even as its flow stilled. The tree root looked large and fat, like a leech that had recently finished a feast. The reflection that had once been a pony wrapped its mouth around it, sucking the last red pulses. One tiny blue tendril remained glowing dimly as the minotaur’s reflection shuddered. With one last growth spurt, the transformation was complete. Big Guns was now staring at an exact replica of himself. The root withdrew from the slack jawed reflection’s mouth, a tiny golden spark glowing on its tip. The spark gradually dimmed, then was gone as the blue tendril turned gold. Then the root was still as the colors died. A voice echoed ethereally from below like a stereo mixed with reverb.
“I am Big Guns. I am strength. I am power.” Beneath, the mist began to clear as the tree’s broad gold dusted leaves caught the sun. The blossoms were large and fat as they closed, pulsing. “I am not weak …” The minotaur stared at his reflection, repeating as they spoke together. “I am not weak. … We are not weak. We are strong. We protect. We smash lesser creatures.” With each statement, a loud pop came from the tree as the pods burst open to reveal more fruit. This time, the scent of fresh meat wafted through the air. Thalia’s stomach rumbled as her mouth watered.
She watched as Big guns looked up at her. His reflection turned to face hers, acting independently of the minotaur on land. “Join us. Be strong.” His mane suddenly sprouted into long red vines, clinging to his back while his hide thickened. With every pop the tree made, he continued to shift and change as his black fur became black moss. His hide dried out, cracked, popped open, and revealed streams of thick viscous blood. It swiftly dried and hardened, giving his hide texture as it formed ridges. Dark green shoots sprouted from his wrists and ankles, setting off against his appearance as his eyes glowed red. His horns sprouted and thickened, taking on a gnarled and knotted appearance as the white darkened into black ebony. “We are one.” He laughed hollowly as fauna and flora began to sprout amongst the moss, blending with his hide to create a walking plant-like creature.
“What in the North Wind’s name-?” Thalia asked before her eye caught movement below. She veered quickly, barely avoiding the tendril that had been reaching for her reflection. Whatever this tree was, it was clearly magical, potent, and very dangerous. And now it had adapted to try to snare her. Was this what Azeez meant by not going out the same way you came in?
“Be strong. Join us.” The minotaur laughed as a tendril of vines lashed from his back and made contact with the roots of the tree. They soon began to glow as the same red she saw coming from the root in the water flowed up the link and into Big Gun’s mane. “Guard with us.” Tendrils shot from the creature’s back, reaching for Thalia. She shrieked and wove, pulling out her axe.
Banking swiftly, she hacked away with Grif’s gift. The tool did its work well, slicing through the vines with a calculated efficiency. Gooey red sap clung to her fur and feathers in clumps, blending with bits and pieces of greenery as she exercised her overhand technique, arking her hands in figure eights while she went about her grisly work. The creature that had once been Big Guns bellowed in rage, even as the green shoots at his hooves dug into the ground. He grew larger and the vines renewed their vicious attack.
“You will feast with us. You will eat from us. Even if we have to make you.” This time, the vines came in a wave, faster than before. Thalia dove again, but the tendrils followed. She panted, not sure how much longer she could keep this up.
“I won’t let you take me, you glorified weed!” she roared as she rose upwards. She had to figure out how to end this. And quickly. A loud rumble roared from below as suddenly the creature’s legs cracked and swelled. The hooves sank into the ground as the creature looked up, its red eyes burning with savage hunger.
“We have you now.” Thick roots shot up from the earth, joining the tendrils in the chase. One of them grazed Thalia’s side as she banked, the rough bark that formed on them tearing at her fur. She breathed in sharply and began weighing her options. What did she know? First, Big Guns had once been a weak pony with little chance of survival. He came to the tree and ate its fruit. Then that same fruit made him strong. But instead of stopping there and being content, he kept eating until what he once was was consumed in what he desired. The tree took something from him. That much was evident. And now he was completely connected to it, feeding off of it. Still, she had fallen minotaurs before. If she could separate him from the tree, perhaps that could stop him. At least for a time. She would have to be careful about it. One false move and she would be the tree’s next victim.
Pulling out a tomahawk, Thalia resumed her course of battle, circling round the roots as the tendrils followed her. She wove them between until the roots were bound tightly. But even as she cried out in triumph, more roots sprung up while the tendrils simply detached from their spawner and died. “You have got to be kidding me.” The creature laughed hollowly.
“Submit. Yield. Join us.”
“Go to tartarus!” She yelled, throwing her tomahawk at the beast. Another root rose to block the blow.
“We don’t like axes. Axes are not allowed in our land.” The root circled around the weapon and crushed it before dropping the pieces to the ground. Ichor oozed from the places where the blade had cut. Then the creature screamed.
“Got you, you sick son of a diamond dog.” Thalia crowed at the connecting tendril as it spewed sap. The tree shook violently, its fruits dropping to the ground. They soon putrefied, filling the air with a sickly sweet smell. “Augh! Disgusting.” Thalia spat as she eyed the tree. As she suspected, what was left of Big Guns was now immobile, having been cut off from the tree. Without the connection, the creature could receive no direction. And clearly, the tree had removed his will, making him more of a golem than anything else. The behemoth’s legs returned to normal as his body began to shrink, returning to what they had been before he had embedded himself into the earth.
“Now to deal with you.” She said as she began to hack at the tree’s limbs, slicing off leaves and blossoms alike, stripping it of its shoots and boughs. Then she took them and laid them around the trunk, taking dried twigs and tinder from her pack and laying them beneath the pile. She struck her flint with a hunting knife and a few minutes later, a roaring fire crackled merrily. An unearthly shriek filled the air as the trunk contorted and twisted where it stood. Thalia made sure to keep the fire well stoked and let it burn well into the night. This was one abomination she would not allow to harm anyone else.
Hammer Strike tromped his way into a small clearing. The snow sparkled in the sunlight even as he identified the tracks of the various animals that lived there. It was a rather pretty little sight, with the exception of the enigma that now stood before him in the middle of the clearing. A hooded equine shape was pawing at the snow. The trees surrounding the clearing extended their branches like pleading hands gnarled with arthritic knots. It reminded him of Granny Smith’s joints. A variety of pathways and game trails wove their way into the clearing, outlined by the compacted snow and the dead leaves beneath. Blinking, he returned his focus to the equine in question as it stiffened suddenly. A carved bo staff lay at its side as it twirled, its cloak sweeping the snow beneath as it turned its gaze on the lord. Yellow eyes glowed within the shadows of its hood.
“Hey,” He said aloud.
“By your noble manner and royal clothes, you must be Hammer Strike, I suppose.” A female voice echoed from the hood, even as the eyes retained their gaze.
“That would be correct. You know my name. May I know yours?” He asked.
The pony reached down a pulled up the staff. “I am known for tales, wisdom, knowledge, and flora. My friends in Ponyville call me Zecora.” The pony pulled back its hood with a free hoof, revealing the smiling and wizened face of the zebra. “And to what do I owe the honor and grace of the presence of Fell Hammer from the Minotaur Race?”
“I really need to read up more on my history. Even now I still hear new things, and I lived through them,” He said, sighing heavily. “Honestly, I am just wandering about.”
“The stories of your history are somewhat in my specialty. But most of all from one close friend, who saved my people from a tragic end.”
“Really?” He asked.
Zecora nodded. “You came for him in a strange blue box with a witch doctor whose manner was … unorthodox.”
“You will have to forgive me. My memory has been fading with age.”
Zecora chuckled. “Time has not caught up with you just yet. The more peace you seek, the more adventure you get.”
“I’ve given up on seeking peace.” He chuckled. ‘I still have plenty of work to do before I get to that.”
“And what is this work, if I might ask? Does it pertain to your current task?”
“More than that, I would say.” He shrugged. “There are still plenty of enemies after me. And if history is anything to go on, I don’t exactly have a large amount of time to relax.” He chuckled softly.
Zecora smiled again, a playful light glinting in her eyes. “How to relax. Quite the mystery. Perhaps we can discuss it over a warm cup of tea?” She motioned towards the forest. “My house is near. Will you join me?”
“Lead the way.” He smiled.
In ponyville there were plenty of places ponies would go out of their way to avoid. The Everfree Forest, with it’s own chaotic nature, always presented a danger to any who entered. Though such danger had lessened with the recent attempts to tame it. The Froggy Bottom Bog was a danger to all save for Fluttershy, who knew how to work around the massive hydra hiding under the depths and the cragadiles waiting to bite and drag anything below the surface for their meal. The Ghastly Gorge was another such place. The constant rock slides and the large, ferocious quarry eels that dwelled in the multitude of caves in the side of the gorge and lashed out to devour the unfortunate traveller often discouraged all save the most courageous and/or foolhardy creatures from stepping hoof or paw into it.
It was here, in this abandoned quarry, that Grif found himself drawing out a careful array using a powder composed of poison joke, heart’s desire, and blood orchid in generous measure. The ritual was something from both Zebra and Gryphon culture back in a time long ago when the Gryphons still had medicine birds and shamans for ritualistic spells, rather than the cold, hard evokers. Kalima had been able to give Grif only so much knowledge on the ritual, for it was from a time long since passed for the gryphons. Fortunately, according to Zecora, the practice was still present in Zebrican culture, which meant she was uniquely qualified to fill him in on any details Kalima had been missing.
The theory, simply put, was that if a mind was fractured or bothered, it needed to confront the problem on a personal level. The array created a sort of mental cage in which the mind could manifest how it felt in a physical form, and by doing so, bring the parts in conflict into the open. From there the parts would either have to agree to end the ritual, or die. The basic array was shaped in a large heptagon. On each point a talisman had to be placed, symbolically shaped to have meaning to the one doing the ritual. It was advised not to use something of actual value, as these points would be destroyed at the ritual’s end. Grif had chosen something that seemed somewhat ridiculous, but the shapes held a deep seated fondness to him. Seven gems of the same size and shape: green, cyan, dark blue, purple, red, yellow, and clear lay glinting in the sun as they prepared to be called upon.
Grif approached the center where another green gem of the same cut lay. It was noticeably larger than the rest. This would be the keystone to the ritual. A talisman to tie the spell together and give the aspects of his mind shape and form. Taking a handful of the herbal powder, he spread it across gem, laid his talons on top, and concentrated.
“I am Grif. My mind wars within me. Let the warring peace be taken upon this ground and let us come to an accord, be it to stay in this life and it’s harmony, or to find the next with rivalry.”
The powder on the stone began to glow bright crimson before the light began to spread, following the guide of the powder to the gemstones like a flame on a gunpowder trail. The light encompassed them, forming seven pillars as each glowed. The ground Grif stood on seemed to alter. The air stood still, unaffected by the wind that normally flowed through the gorge. The gravel stopped shifting. The light seemed to take on a darker tone as across from Grif, a new figure began to take shape. His form was that of a gryphon. Though his hind legs were longer than his forelegs and he stood upon them bipedally. His feathers were a dark oily black and seemed to devour all light that fell upon them. His fur was covered in large, sickly looking scars, and his long talons dripped casually with a purple ichor.
“So which part of me are you supposed to be?” Grif asked, looking at the being across from him.
“I speak for your anger, your vengeance, and your self loathing. I encompass your hatred and I keep record of all the crimes against us that weigh within your soul, unable to forgiven. But you would not bring yourself to vengeance. When you became one, you tried to leave us behind. Such a thing is unnatural. We cannot be removed so easily, nor can we remain undealt with for long.”
“Then tell me your story so we can find some peace between us.” Somehow, he sensed this was going to be a long story, and he wasn't going to like it.
The creature spoke of a child subjected to the cruelty of his peers, being called stupid by a teacher in the youngest years of education. This led to many fights and punishments. A sister broke his arm, breaking his trust at the same time and sowing the seeds of fear. These and many memories like them returned as the creature talked of a pain that all had to endure, but often remained unconfronted and unsatisfied for many years. The next grievance spoke of years after, when the teasing quieted. But the ones who were considered friends betrayed his trust again and again. He felt so stupid for the help he needed each time to recover.
After some time, Grif held up a clawed hand. “Enough. These are but minor grievances at best, and you know it. None of these justify your discontent with me. Give me something worth telling, or we can simply end this now.”
The creature looked at him, then it opened its mouth. A different voice came forth. Grif knew it well. The voice of Self Loathing began to sing it’s song, rising and falling from a high, weedling falsetto to a deep, gravelly bass. It sang of many things, both great and small: The little brother sent to the hospital for the bow and arrow his own hand had made. The boy had nearly lost an eye that day. The friends he’d betrayed in school, the names he’d called others. Years of his own countless crimes that he never could let go of echoed over and over in his mind, slowly grinding like a drill through bone. Finally, the spirit came to Equestria. Grif had asked, and the spirit delivered.
“You, who murdered the changeling race, who poisoned their blood and lied to one who you called friend, forcing him to kill. You, who watched your friend suffer and nearly die, but did not a thing. We who beguiled princesses to cover our deepest fears and let innocent creatures die for nothing. We sing the song of sorrow and regret. Hear us, and answer.” The accusations continued for hours. Each new accusation a stab to his heart. Grif relived the monster he’d been at the crystal empire, the innocents he had killed, both of Sombra’s corrupted, and of his own men. The faces haunted him, as clear as day. And with each crime they grew in number and the song of one voice grew into a chorus of loathing and regret. Still they pressed on, heedless, relentless.
The war, oh for all the winds, the war was worst of all. Grif watched, reliving each event, seeing the pain and terror he inflicted on those creatures. Shrial shook before him, begging for him to take her life. He relived the fear of the militia as their flesh and wings were torn apart by sheer wind velocity and debris. There was nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide. And these thoughts would be held silent no more. So much for that lie about PTSD and immunity. Chalk up another one for the list. Now Grif had no choice but to face the truth. And worse yet, he had to face it alone.
For the first time since the death of Graf, Grif broke down. He wept, tears streaming down his cheeks, matting his feathers as he screamed, cried, and begged any who would hear to forgive him. He wept till the tears ran dry and still he begged.
Unseen by him, as the hours passed and time moved forward, the creature’s scars began to heal. By the time Grif was able to lift his head again the creature who stood before him mirrored him more than it had before. It’s coloring still held a darker tone, but it’s fur and feathers were clean and well kept. Its limbs were better proportioned and it held a less aggressive stance.
“To forgive others is hard. But to find true peace, it is the necessary to forgive oneself most of all. You have kept so much on our shoulders that your rage needed to be let out any way it could. … To be let out through us. You wish for peace between us? Then this is our demand. Take the things we cannot change and send them into the past where they belong. Let the present shape us from now on and let the future be where our site lies.” The creature offered it’s hand to him. “Will you agree to our terms?” Grif struggled for what felt like hours as he warred with his guilt. At last, he bowed his head somberly, wiping his beak and eyes with an arm. The other gryphon took it and raised him up. Then he did something surprisingly out of character for the emotions he embodied. He smiled.
“I am Grif.” The invitation had been given. Fur voices in one spoke in harmony as he met Grif’s gaze. He took the gryphon’s hand in a strong grip and shook, his eyes determined as the darker gryphon began to fade.
“I am Grif.” Blinding light flooded the gorge’s floor as a parting voice echoed back on the winds.
“Well done.”
Despite the bright light that surrounded the valley several minutes later, it would be more than two hours before Grif found the energy to start his return trip to New Unity. The ritual had done its work, and as promised, no sign remained of the ceremony but ash and dust. But even as he trudged his way along, a smile crept across his beak and each step seemed lighter along the way.
Princess Celestia stood in the chamber as she looked upon the nobles, carefully assessing their mood. While the majority present were Unicorns, she could see a few small enclaves of Pegasi and Earth Pony Nobles. She waited for the formalities to finish before issuing her signal to call the session to order. She trotted down the stairs and stood in the center of the new court of nobles, a room that had been carved into the mountain by forming a circular pit where the nobility could sit around the various speakers and hear what needed to be said. The overall shape and development of the cave assured proper augmentation for any speakers at the time, no matter how large the crowd may become. Princess Celestia waited while the Duke of Canterlot called the chamber to order. Duchesse Platinum the sixteenth banged a hoof against a silver gavel similar to that used by Princess Celestia in the olden days. It crashed like a symbol and echoed over the sounds of conversation.
“Her Royal Highness, Princess Celestia, raiser of the Sun, Co-Ruler of Equestria, has called this meeting of the House of Nobles to address the inquiries and concerns as to the sudden absence of Princess Luna, as well as to answer for the impromptu sparring session performed with Lord Hammer Strike earlier this month.”
Princess Celestia smiled as she raised her voice. The room had been structured with the royal voice in mind so that the nobles need not worry about losing their hearing. However, it still was useful on occasion, and Celestia wanted to be certain that nopony could feign not understanding what she was about to say.
“The nobles of Canterlot. You, who rule from the mountains,” She started, her vocal power blowing the nobles’ carefully styled manes askew. “To answer simply, and in the form my sister prefers, I have come to inform you that Princess Luna has decided to build a second capital for our kingdom. A Second Throne to prevent the mistakes of the past from repeating themselves, as well as to create a seat for the soon to be Thestral Nobility and titles that are to be awarded for faithful service to the crown.” She paused to drink some water. “Princess Luna has many things she wishes to atone for. One of the first being the unfair treatment and abuse of the Thestral people as a whole, even as I have tried to do in the here and now. As such, I wish you all to know that I am letting her have her space, and her land.”
As she had expected, the court of nobles erupted in a bout of shouting, accusations, and demands with regards to these new nobles.
“Silence! You all will have your chance.” Princess Celestia yelled over the noise. “As a Princess of Equestria and Co-Ruler, Princess Luna has the right and privilege to do so. This is an authority she had not exercised in well over a thousand years.” She twitched an ear. “Dutchess Platinum of Canterlot. Please call upon the Nobles one at a time so I may answer their questions.”
The duchess, a deep purple mare with a perfectly coifed turquoise mane nodded in acknowledgement. She alone had avoided the blast, having sat on a podium that rested next to the princess in the middle of the room. “I suppose we should start with House Pansy.”
A smaller pink pegasus mare with a deep red mane cleared her throat carefully before speaking. “Surely your highness is not simply going to let your sister bring so many ponies into nobility without merit for such a social promotion?”
Princess Celestia smiled. “House Pansy, it is usually from your house that we pick the head of the Canterlot Archives. Tell me. What was Princess Luna to the Thestrals?” She asked, waiting patiently for the answer she knew would inevitably come. The other nobles stood with bated breath.
“She is their High Chieftess, your highness,” she responded.
“Yes. And so,” She looked to the nobles. “What does that mean? It means that she already, by the laws of Thestrals, has those of the correct bloodlines to promote and convert their nobility into Equestrian equivalents.The proper term is High Chieftess, which is the Thestral form of prince or princess. So, if she wishes to bring the Thestrals back and integrate them into our society, would it not then stand to reason that she should translate their terms to our understanding?”
“Y-yes, Princess. Of course. Please, forgive me.” Lady Pansy said.
The duchess selected another hoof. “Yes, Lord Pants?”
“Well I, for one, think this step is a long time in coming, your majesty. I must ask though. How will these new titles and capital affect trade within Equestria?”
Princess Celestia looked at Lord Pants. “Well, I think that would do well for you to handle, Fancy Pants. Having spoken with my sister, and by her blessing, we have decided to appoint you as a councilor on the Pony side of this matter. You will work closely with the Thestral people and my sister to determine these very factors. However, for those of you who wish to hear my opinion on the matter, I believe that this will only help to strengthen our kingdom and its economy, not to mention our country’s military strength. To join in this project to build a capital would doubtless pay itself off to any pony that pitches in in the long run.”
Fancy Pants bowed. “It is my honor, as always, to serve, Princess.” Several other nobles cringed.
“Will these thestrals be expected to follow the same laws as everypony else in Equestria?” Lord Cookie said as Duchesse Platinum pointed to him.
“Only if the situation becomes severe enough. Does it not stand that most of the laws and punishments vary somewhat from town to town when it comes to minor cases? They certain do in Cloudsdale and Canterlot. Those laws which I have placed within the rights of nobility and landed shall be followed. Aside from these, Princess Luna holds rights over the capital of the Moon, just as I shall shall hold the rights here in Canterlot, which shall become the throne of the sun. We both shall have prevue to craft laws and courts as we see fit that sit below the Grand Royal Courts.”
“And where, might I ask, is the funding for this endeavor coming from?” Lord Blueblood asked.
“Multiple bank accounts, including a few I preserved in hopes of my sister’s return. I believe the proper term is Seed Money. These funds will be coming from my sister’s account, as well as my own as a gift for her birthday. We shall also be drawing upon the General Building Funds set aside to pay the architects, based upon the third Century surplus account that is earmarked for any large scale expansions, as placed by the general budget voted upon last year.”
That answer seemed to placate several of the lords, much to Blueblood’s chargin.
“House Hurricane offers it’s services to anything princess Luna and the thestrals may need from us,” lord hurricane offered kindly.
“I cannot answer for my sister. However, I shall say that I do not mind the offer and will inform her of it.” She looked to the nobles. “Any other questions?”
“There is a location right near whitetail woods that would be perfect for princess Luna,” the lady of House Set offered.
“Actually,” Princess Celestia replied with a subtle smile. The other nobles wondered what she was up to as she opened her mouth. “She has requested that the returned Commander of Equestrian Forces give his war prize of Fort Triumph to be used as the capital. However, I shall relay your most generous offer to Princess Luna. I am certain that those lands might do well for a boon to the Commander and his wife.”
“You mentioned something about knowing my history. Why is that?” Hammer asked.
“I cannot say all, for we’ve only just met. But part is a favor, and part is a debt.” Zecora said as she sipped her tea at the stump of a table. More brewed in the pot over the fire as smoke wafted up the chimney. The air smelled of spices and herbs, granting a dryer and warmer atmosphere than the wintery weather had given outside. While all the rest of Equestria was enjoying spring, the winter of Everfree still held on for now.
“Alright.” Hammer replied, looking out the window for a moment. “I should probably start heading back. Blast and Tower Shield are without a doubt upset at me taking this short break.”
Zecora sighed. “I have a message for Grif from me. Kalima’s leg has grown more atrophied. If Thalia is not back by this week’s end, I fear the old one will have no chance to mend. Here, take these.” She threw a bag at the lord. “The poultice from this, her pain will ease.”
“I’ll be sure to give this to Grif to give to her.” He said, placing the bag into one of his coat pockets. “I should be off. Have a pleasant night.”
Zecora waved as he left and smiled before closing the door. The smile soon faded as she spoke aloud. “That poor soul knows not the risk that he takes. Chaos is coming. Make no mistake.” She shook her head and continued her brewing as she gazed into the pot, her brow furrowed at the images that swum there. “Hurry home, child. Your mother needs you. Do not be beguiled.”
Hammer Strike began his walk through the Everfree back to the castle. His mind wandered as he thought of the ‘adventures’ to come that he already knew about. Looking around, he was greeted with the average sight of the Everfree. Trees, bushes, shrubbery, that one manticore again, the…
“Oh you have got to be kidding me.” He sighed as he turned his eyes on the manticore. “What do you want now?”
The manticore stared at him passively.
“Alright then…” He sighed, continuing on his way. “If you’re not going to do anything…” He said, only to stop moments later as he heard footsteps behind him. Turning around he saw the manticore stopped near him, its tracks following next to his hoofprints. Squinting his eyes quizzically he looked over the manticore before continuing on, testing his thoughts.
They were soon proven correct as its footsteps crunched behind him. “Oh that’s great.” He muttered. “I’m being followed by a manticore...”
“Rawr?” The manticore tilted it’s head as if asking if it was supposed to talk back.
“And you can understand me,” He muttered to himself. “I sometimes forget that some creatures hold a higher intelligence than others. Considering Fluttershy’s cottage and the animals there…”
The manticore seemed to recognize the name, ever so slightly shifting it’s weight off of it’s right forepaw without realizing it.
Not that much later Hammer Strike found himself near the castle. The Shield brothers stood peering anxiously outside the gate, most likely awaiting their lord’s return. They sighed in relief. At least until they noticed the large monster walking behind him.
“Uh. sir.” Blast Shield spoke “There is uh, a manticore following you.”
“Yes. Yes there is.” He replied.
“Should we do something?” Tower Shield asked.
“Nah.” He shook his head. “Let’s keep him around.”
“Rawr” The manticore responded, nodding.
“Good,” Hammer said aloud. “I got that right.”
“Welcome back, sir,” Black Rook greeted Grif as he entered New Unity. He was tired, but physically, he was fine. “Did everything go ok?”
“Better than ok, Rook.” Grif laughed as he clapped the pony lightly on the back.
“Okay … well, Lord Hammer Strike was looking for you. He wanted you to go to his study when you got back.”
Grif gave him a nod. “Better see what he wants, then. I’ll see you later.” With that, the gryphon made his way into the castle. Several minutes of navigating the corridors later, he found himself standing before Hammer Strike’s study. Carefully, he opened the door and let himself in.
“There you are,” Shawn said. “Finally.” He sat writing furiously at his desk. Papers lay scattered across the room, each holding some picture or language that he was deciphering. He was in his other form at the time.
“Well I haven’t seen you in a while.” Grif laughed as he approached the human.
Shawn chuckled faintly. “Sure. Alright, so. I have a few things for you, and a message that needs to be delivered.” He said as he started gathering some of the pages together.
“I guess you should start with the message, then,” Grif said.
“Word for word message, or the basic gist of it?”
“Which is faster?” Grif said.
“Both are fast. It’s just one has rhymes and the other doesn’t,” He replied. “It’s from Zecora.”
“Give me the gist of it then.”
“Basically, Kalima’s leg is worse. If Thalia isn’t back by the end of this week there will be major problems, and…” He pulled out a bag out of his pocket. “This, will help with her pain.” He said, tossing the pouch towards Grif.
“Thanks.” Grif caught the medicine eagerly. “You ever think we’re getting in too deep, Shawn?” he asked as he placed the medicine in his bag.
“What do you mean?”
“Getting married, having families, politics, armies, ponies and gryphons who would die for us.” Grif shrugged. “Less than a year ago, we’d meet up for a few hours online and laugh about this kinda stuff.”
“I’ve given up on home.” Shawn replied as he stood up, heading over to another desk. “Based off the history I know, I’m bound to die before we even get the chance.”
“So equestria is going to explode, then?” Grif asked.
“I doubt that.”
“listen to me complaining. This must be overwhelming. More for you than for me,” Grif noted. “You’re some sort of mythical hero.”
“A mythical hero,” Shawn turned towards Grif and pointed towards his head, then his heart. “Who can die with one well placed blow, just like everybody else.”
“Then I guess you’re gonna have to make one hell of a story for them to tell about you, huh?” Grif said, then furrowed his brow as he turned to face the human. “So was there another reason you needed me?”
“Yeah.” Shawn said, turning back towards his desk as he grabbed one of the books that lay there. “Translated more chapters.” He said, holding out to the gryphon.
“Doesn’t this break your unwritten treaty with twilight?” Grif chuckled, taking the book. “Or has the incident lost her the privilege of first sight?”
“Considering she was messing with Thaumic Fire, yes.” Shawn said.
“I’ll be sure to keep you posted on this, then. Wouldn’t want to do something too stupid.” Grif laughed, opening the book offhandedly and looking through it. “Considering you're translating this, I’m going to go ahead and guess what's missing was too dangerous for mortal eyes?”
“Too dangerous for any eyes. Even worse is I can’t forget it.”
“Well, I trust you, Shawn. As always,” Grif said, sliding the book in his bag with the medicine. “Going to have to see about some new swords, by the way. These rapiers from the crystal empire are too light for me now.”
“You already told me that. Check the forge. I had Renati stay near them. So you’ll find the new ones.” He shrugged. “If they aren’t good, just tell me and I’ll make another set.”
“Thanks. Sorry about that. I’ve had a metric ton of things to deal with lately and I’ve been a little addled because of it.” Grif laughed “So, El Fluffy your new mascot?”
“Followed me here. Seems to want to stay.” Shawn replied. “Both him and Renati got along, thankfully, so it doesn’t bother me.”
“Huh. So after our next adventure you're bringing home what next? The nemean lion, maybe?”
“We’ll see how it goes.” Shawn said, giving a small smirk.
“Okay. Think you can get him to wear a sombrero?” Grif chuckled.
“No idea. But yeah, also, four changeling guards are here now.”
“I’m going to guess these aren't Me-me’s soldier drones?” Grif asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Nope. Disconnected from Chrysalis. And they would rather stay with ‘The Undying’ than, well, die.”
“Well, I suppose if they're not trying to kill you, you can’t complain, right?”
“That’s about right.” Shawn shrugged. “I think that’s everything for the time being. If I remember something, I’ll send for you.”
“Okay. Well, I have to head to ponyville for some things. I’ll see you later, Shawn.” Grif waved as he turned to leave.
Shawn gave a slight wave as he moved back towards his desk to continue his translations.
Pensword stood on the crest of the hill as he stared at the location. The first thing he noticed was that a cobblestone road started at what he thought was the declared boundary of this land. He also saw that the wild forest had become tamed as he looked up. “Dear,” he began, speaking to his mate. “How many Thestrals do you see flying in the air patrolling? And how long till we are swarmed?” He shook his head. He could tell where the original fortress walls stood, yet he saw where smaller walled sections on the side of the mountain had been carved. It seemed this location was already being used by the Thestrals. He wondered just what Luna would do next.
“I’m still stunned at how different it looks. I’d heard a lot of us were living here, but i never got the chance to see it.” Lunar Fang seemed on the brink of tears.
“Agreed. There are not as many moon kissed as I had hoped for, but still, look at it all.” Pensword’s left ear twitched. “In coming wing beats off our nine sector,” he muttered. “From the cloud bank it would seem.” He shifted to an alert defensive stance as he continued to scan the surroundings. “Well, I wonder how the inside has changed. I would assume we are using the royal chambers for the creation of Luna’s court?”
“I’d imagine so.” Lunar Fang nodded as a squad of thestrals acrobatically flew overhead before separating. Four of them did a series of loop de loops in the air while the last one sailed through the loops in a carefully timed motion.
Pensword paused, trying to recall this formation. Whatever it was, it was well practiced, well rehearsed, and seemed flawless. It made him wonder just what it meant.
“I think that’s a welcome,” Lunar Fang said.
“I like it.” Pensword responded. “What about you, High Chieftess?”
“It’s quite a show of how they’ve been training over the centuries,” Luna noted. “I am well pleased.”
“I like it too.” Pensword paused. “Dost thou have something akin to the Wonderbolts? Maybe we could create something similar to that… Maybe,” he muttered.
“We shall take it into consideration once everything is stable,” Luna said as she turned to the thestrals behind. “Come, my little thestrals.” She smiled as she coined her sister’s old phrase “Welcome to your new home.”
The group that followed her for the past week cheered in joy as they surged forward to the legendary Fort Triumph. Pensword looked to Lunar Fang, a strange expression on his face. “I can never go home,” he muttered. Then he noticed his wife’s concerned look. “I have lead and battled in three wars, getting better each time. I have gained respect, a wife, and land as well. I have a heart that works, and my health. How? How can I return to my old life knowing what this is.” He grimaced. “Yet ... I was born an American, and that nation is still my home. I pray I can see it at least once before my time in mortality ends.”
“Take heart, Pensword, and you may get more than that, yet.” Luna said as she smiled at him.
Pensword turned his head to look at Luna. “I shall refrain from asking and look forward to this news as a surprise,” he replied as his mind began to race over the possible implications of that comment. They ranged from the rise in station due to the Lunar Capital, to an operational, stable magical portal being built. He did not know and dared not ask at the moment. They were approaching the large outer gates into the layered fortress and he needed to look his best.
“Seems like only yesterday.” Lunar Fang said as she placed a hoof on the gate.
“Agreed.” Pensword paused and looked up. “The walls have Thestrals now, not Griffons. Who would have thought that sparing one Gryphon would change our lives.” Pensword blinked. “I almost became a monster. That was a fine line I tread. I fear what I shall do now if I meet any flocks today.” He paused and noticed something. “I see that the walls have Griffon Wings carved into the stone. Harkening back to my old tactic, it seems.”
“In the end, what other choice was given?” Luna asked him.
“Still,” Pensword muttered as he paused, looking around. “I shall speak of the matter more later.” He looked down at the dust. “... Would Matthew the human have done the same thing?” he asked softly. He did not know who he was really. He knew he was not Matthew, but was he fully Pensword? He realized that he had thrown himself into the war, and worked to avoid this question. He had done all he could to burry it; to avoid this look at his life. He raised his head and pushed the thoughts away again. This was meant to be a happy moment. He could worry about such things later. Pensword smiled as the gates opened into the farmlands. He could see the second wall separating the fields from the true fortress. One more wall after that and they would enter into the inner sanctum of Gryphon royalty.
Luna walked through the Astral Plane. The dreams and nightmares of her ponies lay under hoof like stones in a road. The night was peaceful, as it had been for a very long time. But as she walked she came again to those three doors. Taze and Matthew’s were locked tight, but something strange seemed to be going on with... His door was slightly ajar, even somewhat inviting to the alicorn of the night. Curiously, Luna approached and placed a hoof on the surface only for it to open with little effort. Cautiously, the Lunar princess stepped into the empty darkness that was his dream realm. Moments after clearing the door, it slammed violently shut behind her, making her jump.
“Welcome, Luna.” His voice called from the darkness.
“Where are you?” Luna asked, searching for the source.
“I am here. That is good enough for now.” She heard him sigh. “A lot of things have been on my mind lately.”
“What sort of things?” she asked.
“Questions. For myself, for others, for Celestia, and for you.”
“You have only to ask,” Luna said, finding herself a little nervous in this dreamscape.
“It’s nothing complex. It’s simple.” He gave a low chuckle. “But it’s not… One question for you.”
“I cannot answer if you will not ask,” she replied.
“What is my name?”
“You are Lord Hammer Strike. So you have always been,” she said simply.
“Are you sure of that?”
“Of course I am. I’ve known you almost my whole life.”
The shadows cleared in front of her to reveal Shawn standing there. His eyes were baggy, bloodshot, and worn. He was clearly on the brink of exhaustion. “Are you sure of that?” He asked again.
Luna was unable to respond as she looked on the human. He seemed so tired, so lost. And deep within those eyes, in this place at least, she could see fear, uncertainty, and a weariness that could never be satisfied no matter how long a person may rest. It reminded her very much of herself before she became Nightmare Moon.
“Don’t fret. I couldn’t even answer the question.” He chuckled; a hollow sounding thing. She shuddered at it. Concern and worry sprung to the forefront of her mind as she looked upon her childhood hero. Something was clearly wrong.
“Even asleep you look as though you haven’t slept for days.”
“I’ve looked like this for years.” He sighed. “At least from what I remember. Born human, but I’ve lived as Hammer Strike longer. Typically, a person only has one name. Sometimes they get an alias. But what answer can you give when you have two?” He smiled weakly. “I’ve been thinking for a long time. And I still have so much to think on. But that question…” He shook his head. “It’s been months and I expect my family back home has figured me dead. I don’t expect to return anymore. And after so long, I don’t think I could anymore, even if I do want to.”
“You shouldn’t give up,” Luna pushed.
“I can’t return,” He said once again.
“My teacher would call that defeatist.”
“Your teacher would call that leaving family and friends a second time,” Shawn shot back. “I’ve left family and friends and I haven’t seen them in forty years almost. I’ve grieved, they have as well, and should I go back, it will only bring more pain in the end. And not just to them!”
“Why would you need to leave them again?” Luna asked.
“Not them. I would have to leave everyone I have met here. And I would have to leave you, and your sister. You’re both like family to me. … I can’t leave my family again.”
Luna was at a loss for words. The sentiment of the statement seemed foreign coming from the mouth of a being she had known to be so distant, satirical, and sarcastic.
“I can see it in your eyes,” He said, disappearing into the shadows once again, only to re-emerge as Hammer Strike. ‘I’m going to end up like this in the end. To stay. So I might as well start now,’ He thought to himself.
“Why force yourself to choose if you dislike it?” Luna asked him.
“I don’t. I’m still getting over the whole adjustment.” He chuckled lightly. “Even in a dream the change is weird from two to four.”
“We would never fault you for wishing to go back,” Luna said. She could not bear to see someone she loved so deeply in so much pain.
“I wouldn’t want to stay,” he replied, sighing. “I’ve found home here. And this one, I shall keep.”
“You want us to what, sir?” Fox Feather asked, her expression horrified. “Thou, Thou desirest for us to remain here, surrounded by Gryphons, while Grif and thee go into Ponyville?” She looked right at Hammer Strike. “You do know what we represent to the Gryphons, right?”
“You do know what I represent to the changelings, right?.” Hammer shot back with a small smirk.
“Touche is what thou desirest me to say. Yet you have changeling guards and a hive that is loyal to thee.” She narrowed her eyes. “I-” She closed her eyes and took a breath at the blank expression Hammer Strike was giving her. “I shall try to speak in the modern language.” She put out a strained smile. “What if they choose to turn on you? Because at the moment, our commander is abroad, and we are all still on edge.” She ducked a little as a Gryphon flew overhead.
“Should any turn on me, I am positive I can… deal, with them.” He said, an ember bursting to life in the space between the two before extinguishing itself.
“Yes, I suppose you could. But what could we do if they turn on us?” Fox Feather asked, scanning their surroundings with military precision. “This, This is very much confusing. The entire team remembers this area being populated and cultivated. Now, it is simply a pile of ruins. A forest that could very well be a playground for Discord sits just outside our ruined walls. And we have Gryphons, our former mortal enemies, living inside those very walls with us. When you get back, I am requesting leave for the entire Slayers unit until Pensword returns. Let us visit our old homes and lands so we can honor the past.” She leaned in and whispered “Might help the nerves as well.”
“You're asking as though I wouldn’t allow it,” Hammer replied. “Go ahead. Do what you please. Pensword will return in a few days.”
Fox Feather blinked in surprise. “Very well. We shall pack and leave once you return from your trip to Ponyville,” she said, turning an about face and trotting quickly toward her unit. Hammer Strike noticed that her left wing twitched a little every time she saw a Gryphon.
“Do you trust Shrial?” Grif asked as he approached the group, having picked up on the conversation with his warrior’s hearing … though it didn’t hurt having the unit under surveillance either.
Fox Feather froze and turned around. “Yes. And you should know. She fought by our- by your side. She earned our respect, and our trust. But while she has, this band of sixty Gryphons have not. Nor have they shown any signs of loyalty in either direction. We fought Gryphons in this size of a flock many times.” She sighed and looked Grif in the eye, her expression a mixture of anger, frustration, and sorrow. “... We have not yet left the war behind.”
Grif nodded as the understanding dawned. After all, he had only just been able to put that behind him recently. He could only imagine how much harder it had to be for ponies like this. “Shrial carries my authority. Should any trouble arise, just ask her. And if an emergency comes up,” Grif carefully plucked one of his feathers and offered it to her. “This should give you enough authority to deal with it.”
“Of ... of course.” Fox Feather replied as she took the feather.
“Don’t worry, Foxy. They’ll behave themselves.” Grif smiled as he messed up her mane with a clawed hand. “Let’s go,” he said, turning to Hammer Strike.
Thirty minutes after Lord Hammer Strike and Grif had left, Night Prism stood tending to the memorial field. Flags peppered the landscape, each with a story and memory to tell from the war. He stood in full dress armor as he moved around with care, slowly fluffing the flags, and making sure that there were no new holes or tears in the fabric. This field had become his small way of trying to relax and avoid the Gryphons. He could tell that they were different from the monsters they had fought, but he could not help remembering the abominable acts their ancestors had committed during the war. He paused, his left ear swiveling. After a quick scan, he shrugged and made his way further along the memorial.
Further in, a rusty brown gryphon snuck out from undercover as he picked his way through the flags, his gaze intent. At last he stopped, catching his breath. “Found you,” he whispered as he reached out to claim his prize.
“Excuse me, can I help you?”
The gryphon spun around, startled. His talons were poised to strike. It took a few moments for him to calm down enough to lower them.
In that movement, Night Prism had raised his own wings in a defensive stance that would have pushed the attacker away, even as he worked out a counterstrike in his mind. Fortunately, the need for such a reaction never arose. Much to his shock, the Gryphon had actually lowered his talons. Stunned, Night Prism did the first thing that came to mind. “Name and rank,” he demanded, falling back on his old military habits.
“Rusty Talon: Frontline Cleaver.”
“Front...” Night Prism shook his head, then turned back to the flags. “A thousand years and history has changed on me,” he said as he moved a wing to smooth out the flag. “Tell me. Why were you after this flag? Know you not that a Unit’s flag is their honor?”
“And what about a clan’s flag?” the gryphon asked, pointing with an extended talon. “That flag cost my entire family their honor and their place in Gryphonia after the war.”
Night Prism snorted. “A Gryphon that still knows their history. I thought everyone had forgotten. Yet a thousand years have passed and you still recognize this flag.” He looked at the cloth in question. “Do you know what your Clan leader did that caused this flag to be captured and given as our stewardship to hold?”
“He went to war, like he was ordered to. Like every foot soldier was ordered to.”
“Yes,” Night Prism replied as he moved to the flag next to it. “Tell me, do you recognize this flag?” The white eye of a Thestral shone prominently in the center with a black slitted pupil, surrounded by the brown horseshoe of the Earth Ponies. The blue wings of a Pegasus stretched out on either side, and a purple Unicorn horn shone brightly above the eye. The moon and sun shone in harmony above the cluster, dotted by stars. A pair of Gryphon wings lay underneath, frayed and worn, as if they had recently been tread upon. The Background shone a bloody red.
“I heard stories about that flag. During the war, its bearers were a unit that stopped the advances on Equestria at its main front. They took Fort Triumph and cut off reinforcements to the invasion.”
“Yes,” Night Prism replied. “That, is my unit’s flag. You can balk if you wish, but it is the truth. Pensword brought us back with him somehow. We don’t know how, we only know that it happened. And now that you know who I am and what unit I come from, I can tell you why your clan’s flag sits next to our colors.” Night Prism paused, taking a deep breath as the old memories returned. “That flag was present in the extermination of a pony settlement called Mountainside Falls,” he said, turning his head to look at the Gryphon. “What does Gryphonian history have to say about that town? About that day?” He asked, his voice a neutral monotone.
“Nothing. I’ve never heard of it,” Rusty Talon said.
“Talk to Grif later when he gets back.” Night Prism replied, looking at the flags as he slipped further into the past. “Ask him to tell you about the day he saw fully what your Empire of old had planned for this land.” He looked at Rusty Talon, his expression unreadable. “The carnage, the burials … I will never forget those images from that day. Now, come along. My time here is about over, and Animal Control is due to take up guarding the flags. You can feel free to follow me to the change of guard. After that, I am sure she will be happy to give you the full tour.”
The gryphon followed wordlessly behind. It was clear enough his window of opportunity had passed.
“Is it just me, or does the town seem a bit empty?” Hammer Strike asked.
“Was there another rabbit stampede?” Grif asked looking around. “Something seems to have hopped through here.”
“I don’t think rabbits have hooves.,” Hammer Strike said, pointing towards the circular prints in the ground.
“Point taken.”
“Take a quick flight around. Figure out where everyone is.”
Grif nodded and took to the air. He made a quick lap around town before his sharp eyes picked up activity. “Town hall!” he called to Hammer Strike.
“I’ll meet you there!” He called back as he started to walk.
Soon enough they found themselves at the Town Hall. The doors to city hall opened a few minutes later, revealing six familiar mares, and oddly enough, a board covered in freshly dried paint.
“...Interesting choice of pastimes. Not really what I’d expect for Pinky or Rainbow Dash though,” Grif noted.
“Some experiment of yours, Twilight? Or did we just happen about at an interesting time?” Hammer questioned curiously.
“Aparently Pinkie Pie found this magical mirror pool. It let her make copies of herself,” Twilight said. “We used the paint to find out which Pinkie Pie was the real one and send the rest back.”
“Well, if it worked, it worked.” Hammer Strike shrugged. “Other than that, how’s it going around here?”
“It’s probably gonna take some time to clean everything up and get everypony calmed down again,” Applejack noted. “And I still got a barn that needs raising.”
“Considering the town seems to be on lockdown, good luck with that,” Hammer Strike said wryly.
“So what brings you two here?” Twilight asked.
Grif took one look at Rarity and coughed “Nothing ... nothing at all, just out for a … a delivery!” Grif said, his face switching from worried to relieved. “Yeah. Zecora sent along some medicine for the old one.”
“Isn’t that a bit disrespectful?” Twilight asked.
“Calling an elder ‘old one’ actually is a term of respect,” Rainbow noted. “Gilda said it was to acknowledge they’ve lived so long and experienced so much.”
“And you, Lord Hammer Strike?” Rarity asked.
“I thought a visit was in order.” He replied, shrugging.
“Well, as you can see, the town’s not at its best,” Twilight said, motioning to the damage left by the pinkie stampede.
“You should see New Unity, then,” Hammer replied. It hasn’t been at its best for a long time.”
Pinkie Pie burst out laughing. “Good one, Strikey.”
“Well, there was my one joke of the month.”
“Anyway, I’d better go make sure the weather team is getting re-organized,” Rainbow said before flying away.
Grif made a beeline for the hospital as soon the the opportunity presented itself. He nodded to Nurse Red Heart as he entered. “I have a medical delivery for the old one from Zecora,” he said, handing her the pouch. “Is she awake? I’d like to speak with her.”
A loud stream of curses echoed down the hall, punctuated by a few shrieks here and there. “... She’s awake, alright.” Red Heart said, sighing. “The poor dear’s been dealing with a lot of pain. I’m afraid the infection may be starting to spread.”
“It will be set aright,” Grif said, his voice not leaving room for doubts. “May I?” he asked, gesturing to the hall.
“By all means. She’s been anxious to hear from you. Aside from her daughter, you’re about the only one she really wants to see.”
“Thank you.” Grif nodded to Red Heart before heading down the hall. He stopped at the door but didn’t knock. He simply waited to see how long before she knew he was there.
She shrieked a not so nice word in Phrench “I already told you, I don’t want visitors.”
“Très bien, madame. Je suis désolé d'être un Bothor,” (very well, madam. I am sorry to be a bother) Grif responded.
A stunned silence filled the air for a few seconds, then she spoke. “Get in here, Grif. We have much to discuss.”
Grif laughed as he opened the door. “Greetings, old one. I see you're still spry as a fledgling on their first flight.”
“I had a good teacher,” She said, wincing as her leg twitched.
“Thalia will be back in time,” he said upon seeing her wince as he entered the room. He took the seat beside the bed.
“Even if she’s not, at the very least, I’ll still be able to see her before the worst comes. But on to lighter matters. Judging by your manner and cheerful appearance, I am assuming things went well? Tell me what happened.”
Grif took his time to recount the events to her. He held back nothing, telling her what he had learned and what he had feared. It took him a good half an hour before he was satisfied. Then he lowered his head to her and spread his talons. “And that is all there is to tell. Tell me, old one. Have I been proven strong, or proven weak?”
A merry twinkle shone in her eye as she looked on him. “Why both, of course.” She said, chuckling. “No warrior can truly rise to greatness without acknowledging his faults and working past them. It sounds like you have begun your own journey along that path. And if all goes well, I hope Thalia shall do the same by the time she returns.”
“Yes, Thalia,” Grif said. “I will have much to answer for when she returns. The way I treated her was beyond reprehensible.”
“Impulsive, yes. Reprehensible? No.” She said, shaking her head. She tensed a moment as another spasm of pain raced up her leg. “The old laws still teach best at times. An eye for an eye. If you do not show the proper respect, you do not receive respect in return.”
“During the war, I saw first hand how females were treated. On the Isles it was less distinct. Females had more rights, but even there they were repressed. When I saw Shrial quivering and begging for death, I swore to myself that I would never be the kind of monster to treat a female that way, to beat them down. Such a thing...” Grif looked away. “It was wrong then, and it was wrong with your daughter.”
“There is a difference between oppression and self defense. As I understand it, you were defending something you loved. And in dealing with the rigors of war, you succumbed to indignation. It is a natural reaction for one at your age.” She chuckled. “It certainly was for me.”
“If it is not too personal, what was your husband like? You say he was battle born, but you speak fondly of him. I thought battle born where to be feared and avoided?” Grif asked “At least that’s what Graf used to say.”
Kalima’s eyes grew distant for a time as she gazed across the room to the small stand with its flower fixture and drawer.
“He was a kind soul. All he ever wanted was to live a peaceful life and protect the ones he loved. We were close friends as children. But the feather was more a curse than a gift to him. Many shunned him. Others would challenge him constantly to battle. A time came when he finally stood up and refused. He was sick and tired of it all. The next morning I found out he had gone. His father had sent him off to join the military and receive ‘special training.’” She spat. “I did not see him again for a very long time. I waited for decades and continued to grow in my own right as a warrior. Many men sought me, but I would refuse them all. Their show of arms disgusted me. Such actions were not taken kindly. And it was only a matter of time before I raised the ire of one suitor too many. I was ambushed on the road. What happened next, I prefer not to speak of. I dragged myself back towards the village, but the journey was several miles by foot. My wings were in no condition to fly. I collapsed and awaited my fate.”
“That’s disgraceful. I don’t see how anyone could let that happen,” Grif growled.
“I was not well loved by the village. My parents had died when I was young, but I had learned enough to be able to stand on my own and earn my keep. My beauty and self sufficiency made the other females jealous. And the men sought only to tame me for a trophy. After I led the only battle born our village had ever had towards a path of peace, I had been marked. But what happened to them, even they did not deserve.” A tear fell down her cheek, a pearl in the evening light.
“I awoke in a combat tent. One of the Old ones of the time, a healer who kept to the ancient ways, had tended to my wounds and watched over me. I was feverish. But when I was awake, I could not help but smile. For I could see the face of my beloved Charell, just as he’d been all those years ago. He wept and smiled, and I would try to comfort him, only to fall into blackness again. In time, I healed, and was finally aware enough to focus on my surroundings. An officer walked in. His armor creaked and clinked, even as his cloak spread across his back. A scar ran down his face under the eye and onto his beak. He asked if I was well, and I responded I would be better had I been able to kill the dishonorable dogs. He chuckled and told me I had spirit. Then he introduced me to the healer before informing me that I would be joining them in their march after I had healed enough.”
“Who were you battling?” Grif asked, before bashfully pulling back. “Sorry to interrupt.”
“You mean my assailants, or the warriors who had saved my life?”
“If they were marching then there must have been a battle.” Grif noted. “Was the entire band to meet your assailants?”
“They were an escort for a military hero who had recently earned the golden talon for his acts of valor against the changelings and diamond dogs. The commander was a reclusive creature, and did not wish to see me. Besides that, I was confined to my tent all the same until the medicine man had given approval for me to leave.” She chuckled as Red Heart made her way carefully into the room.
“Sorry to interrupt, but the medicine is ready.”
Grif looked out the window and stood up suddenly. He had not realized how much time had passed in their visit. “I should go. I have things that I need to do before I return. But I will be back for the rest of this story, old one,” Grif said, bowing his head in respect.
“I am ... looking forward to it.” Kalima said, hissing as the salve was applied before letting out a happy sigh of contentment. “Until next time, young warrior.” She said, laying her head back on her pillows. A few seconds later, she was fast asleep.
Rarity had adjourned to her shop after dealing with the Pinkie Problem. The others were placing Tom the boulder over the hole to keep any other ponies from using the Mirror Pond. She paused as she took up some of her needles and sidled over to her latest project. She waved the needles with a flourish, bobbing and weaving as she danced around the mannequin. She paused suddenly as she realized she had been using the steps from Grif’s training. She laughed to herself, swishing her needle triumphantly through the air in a reverse parry before stabbing at her creation once more, skillfully sewing it up. The suit was her own design based on the sketches from various fencing masters of old. She hummed happily in her work, knowing that Sweetie Bell was away at Sweet Apple Acres for another meeting with her friends.
Meanwhile, Cheerilee sat at Berry’s tavern with her head on the table as she spoke to her sister. “How can I teach with the forest being built, more troops filing in, and beings that fought in two wars traveling about? I can’t compete with all these questions about events that even I’m finding it hard to track reliable information for. Let alone the rumor that there are even more Gryphons in the forest. After Gilda’s little encounter with the others, how will the entire town handle so many at once?”
“They seemed fine during winter wrap up,” Grif commented as he entered the bar. He saluted in her general direction with two talons. “Pleasure as always, Cheerilee.”
Cheerilee glared at Grif while Berry Punch smiled. “The usual?” She asked with a grin. “What brings you back to my place? I thought you would’ve at least fixed the towers of the ruins and claimed them as your roost.”
“Berry, you make the best raspberry punch I’ve tasted in over a thousand years. And honestly, you think the kids would forgive me if I didn’t have another story for them?” Grif laughed, taking the glass once Berry placed it in front of him. He dropped a golden beak. “Here. Offer this to the historical society. And keep the change.”
“Will do. I told them that you were busy creating history rebuilding the old capital of Equestria. At least that’s what a half dozen guards said when they last came in.” She paused and looked at the money. “My mother told me about these. I guess I could hand it over to the Professor next time he’s in town. Or maybe Clockwork the next time I see him. He may run the clocks in town, but he sure has a knack for history,” she replied, taking the beak.
Cheerilee did not move her head and her voice was still muffled. “What story are you going to use to disrupt my class next?” She shook her head, shaking the table as it shifted from side to side before looking up with a grin. “At least you have history to talk about... “ She frowned, then set her head on the table again with a loud thump. “Which is worst: Aliens, or living history? At least the three heroes are encouraging the study of history in my classes.”
“I’m not going back to the war just yet,” Grif said, taking a gulp. “That was something those kids aren't ready for. Different equestria. Different me.” He paused as his face darkened. “And don’t call me a hero. I’m not. I’m just a survivor.”
“Well, that is good to hear. I still need to teach something, after all. The town wants to do a section on Equestria a thousand years ago,” Cheerilee muttered with a snort. “Which is why I am nursing a Ginger Fizz and talking to my sister. You wouldn’t be willing to speak about that time, would you?” She asked sarcastically.
“From what I know,” Grif said. “I grew up in the Northern Isles before they were a part of Equestria. I spent maybe five years in the country before the war. Hammerstrike, however, he spent over thirty years in that environment.”
Berry looked at Grif. “So what you’re trying to say is that we should go ask Hammer Strike to teach a lesson?” She smiled. “See, Sis, I told you they would help.”
“I don’t need help.” Cheerilee cried out as she slouched down a little more. “I got my cutie mark as a teacher. I should be able to handle this on my own. Besides, how do I know they’ll keep order on my students and not, well, overreact like the Gryphon cubs did with Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon? They were not right to tease them, but taking it to a fight was just going too far.”
“You think I enjoyed that, Cheerilee? I’m working from scraps, trying to build something respectable. I did warn everyone for a reason. It’s going to take years, possibly generations, to get the culture shock out of the way before those cubs, or even their cubs, will be able to react properly.” Grif sighed. “And your history books aren't worth the paper they're printed on.”
“You mean all two pages?” She retorted. “That is what it seems like. You won’t believe the trouble I’m having trying to find anything better then old mare’s tales or legends as trustworthy as this King Arthur the humans spoke of.”
“Actually, King Arthur has more fact than the info Celestia spoon-fed you guys.” Grif laughed.
“What are you implying by that?” A voice from the side spoke up. From deep in the shadows, Hard Shell trotted out, smiling from ear to ear. “I was hoping to see the teacher here tear a new one about this legend. And So what if Celestia has? Doesn’t she have the right to protect her subjects from knowledge that could destroy us?”
“Ignorance destroys. Knowledge protects,” Grif responded. “The unprepared are the first to fall. He who sees the danger coming lives on to tell his story”
“So, does everypony stand on these towers of knowledge? I’d say not. Let those judged worthy stand. Otherwise, we’ll just have a bunch of ponies crying Timberwolf. It would be utter mayhem to have so many who could abuse the gift. Knowledge is a dangerous thing, and one that shouldn’t be open to just any mind. My pa taught me that. Kept me out of trouble and working hard running the family business. Miss Cheerilee here is one of those gatekeepers. One who I would say to listen to. She’s got a right head on for distrusting you newcomers.”
“Actually,” Miss Cheerilee spoke up, her tone heated, her expression shocked. “My teaching is open to all. I want every one of my students to learn as much as they can. To blossom into the bright stallions and mares of the future. Just because I see fiction as a pastime doesn’t mean I distrust it. I enjoy a good story once in a while. What matters is what lessons you can learn from them. Stories can teach just as well as I can sometimes.” She looked up at Hard Shell and narrowed her eyes. “I recall that as a foal you only wanted the facts and knowledge to benefit your interests and that of your family business. Construction, wasn’t it?”
“Too bad. His son’s got a gift for entomology that will be squandered.” Grif grinned as he took another drink. “But that’s ignorance for you. The gifted fall by the wayside for the blindness of their parents sometimes.”
Hard Shell slammed his hoof onto the table, cracking it. “Don’t you dare talk about my son like that. I’m working day and night to save the money to send him to Manehatten for the best education. I know Construction seems like a laughable thing, but I graduated top of my class in Construction Management from Canterlot University.” He narrowed his eyes. “Or do you think I’m just another dumb construction worker who couldn’t do the math in my head? Do you know just how much time and effort it takes just to draw up the blueprints for a building?”
Grif winked at Cheerilee. “And if they had withheld that knowledge from you, could you have excelled at your career? If it was decided only so much construction methods can ever be learned and thats it, how would you have faired?”
“Impossible.” He growled. “You find new ways by accidents and by thinking. I’m talking about history and knowledge of the past. They’re not the same. Who should even care about what some mare did a thousand years ago on the first day of spring? Or some battle that happened so long ago no one else is alive to verify the facts?”
“Funny you should use that comparison,” Grif said, producing a scroll from his bag. “On the first day of spring a thousand years ago, the last brother of a line believed to be extinct after the raid of Mountainside Falls and his wife brought to birth a daughter. That daughter lived outside Equestria all her life, but she bore a set of twin sons, one whom re-emigrated back to equestria and fathered a bloodline of faithful pegasus guard ponies right up till his descendent was injured during the Lunar Rebellion. The stallion in question became a postal delivery stallion, and eventually fathered a long line of faithful delivery ponies ending with…” Grif cleared his voice in a forced regal fashion. “Lady Derpy Hooves of Ponyville: daughter to Lord Clever Hooves and Lady Sunny Daisy.” Grif looked on as the three ponies bore the same shell shocked expression. “Sometimes the facts of the past can bring hidden truths to light for the future.”
Hard Shell snorted. “A likely story. We all have tales and legends for our families. It still doesn't make them any more real. Only those with the strength and the will can write history. And they always write it the way that they want it to be.” He turned and started to leave. “History is nothing more than a bunch of tall tales the winners want to brag about to the world for their gain. So why should I care about it?”
The sound of shattering glass rang through the bar. Grif’s hand bled as fragments tinkled on the table, some dyed red as his blood mixed with the remains of the juice.
Cheerilee sighed. “He’s always had that attitude, even as a foal graduating school. He only cared about the things he could see, hear, feel, taste, and smell. The only aspect he enjoyed in Social Studies was the design of government in Equestria. Other than that, he hated the stuff. ‘Too fluid,’ he called it.”
Grif’s voice was cold and quiet. “Why should you care? Tell me, Hard Shell. How many years of your life have you been under the whip? Have your foals and your wife been forced to work with you in the blazing sun until you are no longer able to move? Or perhaps your overseer is feeling particularly hungry, in which case, you end your service to an emperor you’ve never met, but belonged to since birth, on his supper table?” Grif asked as berry rushed to get a wet towel for his talons.
Hard Shell never broke his stride. “Never need to worry. Equestria will never face that. The past happened. Let it stay there,” He said coolly as he left the tavern.
“...I sent friends to their deaths so people like that could spit on their graves.” Grif growled in frustration.
Cheerliee waited for the doors to close. “Hard Shell. Nothing gets through the shell he doesn’t like.” She paused. “Was… was it as bad as the history books say? Or the papers about what Pensword said? The towns that vanished before the war?” She looked at Grif. “It’s just exaggeration, right?”
“A few years before the war I visited a trading caravan from the empire. They came every few months and nobody thought anything of it. There was a butcher there selling meat. It was popular too, at first. Cheap prices, good amount of protein, no real fat. I’d considered buying some, myself. That is, until I walked past his tent. Just then, the flap opened for a minute. And do you know what I saw, Cheerilee?”
She shook her head, but she had a pretty good idea where this was going. Still, she pressed on, waiting for the answer.
“I saw two live ponies in a cage and several more carcasses on meat hooks being bled and skinned. I saw the meat being salted or smoked and prepared for sale. It was pony meat, Cheerilee. The empire was trying to feed us ponies.” Grif shuddered. “That was when my crusade against the empire began, I think. When I realised they could do that.”
Berry looked at the bar behind her, then back to Grif. “You need a stiff drink. Pick anything. It’s on the house” She muttered, looking a little pale.
Cheerilee could not speak. “That, that almost seems impossible.” She paused. “The Gryphons we learn about in school are nothing like what you described.”
“Berry, I’ll be fine. Pour yourself something. Cheerilee may need one too.” He turned to the pink teacher pony. “Thats primarily due to the fact that after losing the coast of Equestria the empire can’t feed itself without the fields just a bit south of the equator, which is Celestia’s center of power. The treaty signed between the countries states that if they ever do such a thing again, those fields will be razed to the ground. No fields, no war effort, starving populations. By the time they reached equestria they’d be begging to surrender for a mouthful of bread and a drop of water.” He smiled grimly “You see now why I don’t want to talk about the war with the foals? They're not ready for that yet. Adults are barely ready for that kind of realization.”
“No wonder Princess Celestia allowed this war to fade from memory. Such actions … they’re simply unheard of.” Cheerilee shook her head and looked at the table. “I might stay for one of your stories now. That is, if it’s uplifting and cheerful.”
“In a way, it is. A bit of cheer, a bit of adventure. It’s one of a set of seven. it’s called The Magician’s Nephew,” He said with a playful glint in his eye as he bandaged his talons.
“Then perhaps, just this once, I might stay.” It wasn’t a handshake. And it certainly wasn’t a call for peace. But it was a start.
Thalia groaned as a gentle nudge shook her frame. She idly batted it away with her claw. “Five more minutes, Grimbeak. I’ll switch with you then,” She mumbled. The nudging continued. When she still wouldn’t respond, a resounding bellow started her from her slumber.
“WAKE UP, GRYPHON!”
Thalia jumped into the air, her instincts on high alert as she whipped out her tomahawk and axe. Looking down, she eyed a black minotaur with red hair carefully, her eyes darting from the steer to the tree and back again. “... Big Guns?” She asked cautiously.
“Who else would it be?”
“And you’re … in your right mind?”
“Big Guns is just fine, Thalia. But he’s not happy.”
“And why is that?”
“You took the fun away from my battle.” He said, pointing to the husk of the tree. “And … you saved Big Guns. Which means Big Guns owes you big time.” He snorted and frowned. “Big Guns doesn’t like unpaid debts.”
Thalia cocked an eyebrow critically at the minotaur, then looked to the shattered remains of bark and petrified vines that he had once been only a few hours previously. A few stray tendrils still wove through the minotaur’s mane, pulsing red. “Just how far back to you remember, Big Guns?”
Big Guns spoke a word in a dialect Thalia had never heard before. “Long enough. Big Guns likes being strong, but … now all he wants to do is fight. Big Guns isn’t sure how he feels about that.” He bellowed out another word. “And Big Guns can’t stop talking like this!” He pounded the ground. That seemed to make him feel a little better. He breathed heavily and closed his eyes before looking up at Thalia. “You can come down, Thalia. Big Guns isn’t going to try to hurt you.”
She did so slowly, though she kept her weapons out just in case. “What happened?”
“I … Big Guns doesn’t know. He woke up like this. First the tree made Big Guns strong, but then … things get fuzzy.”
“But you remember how we met.”
“Yeah. Sorry I took you the wrong way,” Big Guns said. “Big Guns thought it would help. Clearly, Big Guns was wrong.”
“It had you under a spell. It wasn’t your fault. I just hope I’m not too late.”
“Why?”
“If I don’t get the ingredients I need, my mother will lose her leg at the very least. … Her life at most.”
Big Guns narrowed his eyes and snorted heavily. “That won’t happen.”
“It will if I don’t hurry. I have to get to the center of the garden. A zebra told me the plant I need to find is in a place where the waters meet. My best guess is we have to go to there.” She said, pointing to the lake. “It looks like all the streams we can see from here flow there, including the river from this wall.”
“You’re right. Big Guns went that way once when he was lost in the garden. There’s an island there. And a big tree. Ten times as big as Big Guns at least. Its roots were deep. Lots of branches and fruit. Some of em glowed. Others were all shrivelled and small. None of em were the same. It was … strange somehow …” He said, beginning to look distant. Thalia smacked him on the muzzle.
“Don’t you start that on me again. Last time you did, you tried to kill me.”
“... Sorry.” Big Guns said as he snapped back into focus. “I just remember the smell.”
“From that old pile of ashes?”
“Yes … no … well, maybe. It just … it’s like the fruit I had at the other tree too.”
“I guess that’s besides the point. Can you take me there? I have to hurry.”
Big Guns nodded. “Big Guns knows the way. He can get you there.
“Thank you.”
Hammer Strike, having literally gone to Ponyville for no reason, wandered about the town until he came across a very familiar shop. “Well then…” He said as he walked into the shop only to immediately be assaulted by a mask. The smell of ancient wood assaulted Hammer Strike’s nostrils briefly before falling off his face and onto the floor. The item in question was of the highest quality, carefully painted in a tan color similar to his fur coat. It stretched out, designed to cover the entire muzzle and face of the wearer. Above the base coat, intricately painted deep crimson lines ran beneath the eye sockets and a blue upside down arch met at a point between the eyes. Bits of a wild white mane had been carved into the top of the mask, giving a hauntingly serious tone to the piece as a whole.
“Welp,” He said, placing his hoof on the mask as he picked it up. After a brief examination, he placed it onto the shelf from which it had fallen. “Glad to see you’re still around,” He called out.
“Sorry about that. I’ve been working on fixing that mask shelf forever,” Epona said as she made her way over.
“Ah, no worries.” Hammer said with a shrug. “So how are things going around here?”
“Slowly.” Epona sighed.
“Still not much business, I take it?”
“Ponyville doesn’t seem to be as much of a hotspot as I imagined it would.”
“If it comes down to it, what do you plan to do?”
“If business doesn’t pick up soon, I’ll have to pack up and head for a bigger town. Or maybe a city.”
“Head over to New Unity.”
“New Unity?” Epona raised an eyebrow. “No offense Lord Hammer Strike, but if I can’t find business in Ponyville, I fail to see the opportunity in a fort. Nor can I pay the business fees required to operate in such an area.”
“You say that as though I would make you pay.” He chuckled. “It’s not just a fort. We are just starting it off that way. We plan to restore New Unity back to the city that it once was. I’m sure those around would enjoy buying some things closeby, rather than taking a trip back and forth through the Everfree. Morale might go up.” He shrugged. “I’d even let you stay in one of the rooms we’ve fixed in the castle until proper housing is set up.”
“That’s… incredibly generous of you, Lord Hammer Strike.” Epona said, a bit shell shocked.
“I still have more up my sleeve, but I’ll save that for when the time comes.”
“It will take a few weeks to get everything prepared. There is still the question of how I’d get Link to school every day,” she said uncertainly.
“I’m sure something can be figured out for that.”
“Well then ... I guess there’s no real reason not to,” she said, her voice a blend of confusion and excitement.
“If need be, I’ll even help you with the move. I’m sure moving a shop isn’t exactly light work.”
“No, it’s not. But it’ll take a few days at least to pack everything up,” Epona said. “I may have to call in my family to help.”
“It’ll be nice to have new faces in New Unity. When you arrive, just ask for me and I’ll show you around.”
“So be it. Thank you, your Lordship,” she said, bowing her head.
“Rule number one: no bowing,” He said. “Can’t stand it.”
“Oh, sorry.” Epona’s eyes widened, startled.
“Eh.” Hammer Strike shrugged. “Just reminds me how some nobility want to be bowed to, and I am quite against it. I like talking face to face, rather than face to mane.”
Epona nodded “I’ll remember that.”
“So I shall see you in New Unity?”
“Definitely.”
“Then…” He said, reaching into his coat to pull out a small sack. “Here. To deal with any expenses before you arrive.” He said, tossing the coin to her. She opened the sack and her eyes widened once again.
“This is too much. Lord Hammer Strike, please-” She looked up just as the bell sounded. Hammer Strike had left the store.
Fort Triumph, if one were to look at it from the perspective of ancient Gryphonia, would have been shocked at all the Thestrals and half breeds that swarmed the building like ants on a colony converging at the heart of their hive. They were all meeting at the central fortress. A thousand years ago this section was reserved for only the Gryphon Emperor and his court. Today, something else would take place that would change the history of Equestria, and perhaps Equis itself, forever.
The high throne room looked nothing like Pensword remembered it. Apparently, upon hearing of Luna’s return, the Lion Tribe had gone to great lengths in preparation for a visit by their High Chieftess. The wood in the room had been painted a deep blue and the steel had been polished to a brilliant shine. Any gold in the room had been re-plated with fine silver. Black silk banners depicting various sacred animals hung in place of the one portraying the great clans of Gryphonia. The lion, or course, was the most prevalent creature in the decorations, considering who had been maintaining the fort for all these years.
The former red carpet was now a deep black edged with silver. The edges led to a raised platform where a throne had been set, painstakingly carved from oak, and plated with the finest ebony. Much like the banners, the throne depicted the tribal animals of the Thestrals in a near lifelike state. At the feet a fox and a small wolf sat as if holding the fine black cushion and the platform it lay on atop their heads. Just above the cushion a lion and manticore lay opposite one another to form the largest portion of the throne. A wyrm coiled up the sides of the backrest above the lion while a viper coiled viciously up the manticore’s tail, opposing the wyrm. A bear lay emblazoned in the wood and metal, standing on it’s legs and poised to strike. The very top of the throne depicted the upper portion of a head from a greater bear, positioned as though it where biting the throne. Actual bear fangs hung from the mouth, embedded into the woodwork of the throne. A star was carved into the center of the bear’s head, circled by a crescent moon.
“This ... this is for me?” Luna gently laid a hoof on the throne, awestruck at the care and hoof work done to create such a work of art.
“The unicorns crafted your sister’s throne from marble during your banishment. We thought for your return, your own ponies would put as much effort into your seat of power as they did for her,” Long mane, the current chieftess of the Lion Tribe, said. She was a tall strongly built mare, and Luna found her personality endearing. “We are not smiths of Lord Hammer Strike’s quality, but we have learned much over the years.”
“This is, by far, some of the most impressive craftsmanship I have ever seen,” Pensword whispered as he looked upon the throne. “I have seen artwork even from the minds of an alien. This rivals anything I could have hoped to behold before this day.”
“Your praise means a great deal, commander.” Long Mane smiled. “We have struggled to keep this place worthy of you and Lunar Fang both.”
“I can say that to my own eyes, this place is beyond worthy. It has become a refuge for Thestrals and other Ponies. Seeing it standing here after a thousand years and still not in ruins is testament enough to the willingness to learn new skills and keep this place intact, merely for the spirit of what it stands for.”
“Such was the desire of Piercing Roar,” she said. “That this fort would never fall to neglect.”
“Hard to believe this building is over a thousand years old,” Lunar Fang said as she looked around.
“Yeah. Some of the buildings I have seen look less than a century old,” Pensword muttered. “Looks good for the age it is.” He paused and shook his head. “I am getting off track.” He looked to Luna and whispered, hoping only she could hear. “When do you want to start the ceremony?”
“I think first another ceremony is needed,” Luna whispered back before standing up. She raised her head regally as she turned to address her friend. “Commander, if you would please lend me your sword.”
Pensword shifted quickly to a formal stance of attention, turning his head as he gripped the hilt with his mouth. He drew it with the metallic ring of steel and raised his head in salute, presenting the blade for his High Chieftess to claim.
Luna took the blade in her magic. “Kneel, Long Mane. For yourself, and for your clan.”
Long Mane looked to Luna speechlessly before she got down on her front knees. “Maintaining a compound of this magnitude is a task many soldiers could not accomplish so easily. But you and your clan have done it without complaint or question for a princess who was fallen to you, and a commander who you had no way of knowing when he would return. It is for this that we honor you, Long Mane, and all the Lion Tribe. Let this ceremony be a reminder that honor is a gift belonging to they who are noble and dedicated.”
Luna tapped the blade gently on each of Long Mane’s shoulders. Then, without a word, she turned the blade so the pommel faced her. Without a word of warning, she struck Long Mane on the cheek. Not enough to cause any serious damage, but hard enough to leave a mark. “And let that be a reminder to humble and protect you from the harm of extreme pride. Let it safeguard you from putting on airs as so many nobles have done in days past and present. Now, rise Long Mane, leader and first amongst the Knights Lunar. Protector and keeper of the Lunar Palace. Rise, lady knight,” Luna said, a shimmering blue aura surrounding her as her mane floated behind. With a graceful nod, she levitated the sword back to Pensword.
Long Mane rubbed her cheek as she rose to her feet. “Th… thank you, High Chieftess. My clan and I will strive to be worthy of this honor,” she stuttered.
Pensword took the blade and cleaned it before sliding it home. He could not hide the smile and pride as he watched a new order being formed before his eyes. A true Thestral order.
“Now, Dame Long Mane, your first task must be preparations for a ceremony tomorrow. We have many who wait to be elevated to nobility.” she smiled, happy that her actions as a ruler were being received so well by her subjects. After all they had faced, it was about time they had their chance to shine.
Due to the fact Hammer Strike was wondering about, it didn’t take long before Pinkie found her way towards him. The reason for the unexpected pop up? He had no idea.
“Hello, Strikey!” Pinkie greeted him cheerfully.
“Hello,” He replied. “How are things going?”
“Okay. Still trying to calm everypony down when they see me, though. You're the first pony who hasn’t screamed.”
“Have you ever heard me scream, or act very startled?”
“You’re right!” pinkie gasped. “I don’t think I’ve ever even seen you surprised!”
“That’s a record, then. I think I’ll try to keep that going. On that note, how goes progress?”
“Good,” Pinkie said. “I almost have the perfectest, biggest, most partiest party I ever planned ready!”
“Party?”
“For all your missed birthdays!” Pinkie said with a goofy smile.
“That’s quite a bit of parties you have to work with.”
“I know, right?” Pinkie said excitedly. “It’s going to be the bestest ever!”
“Sounds like you have it covered, then.”
“I’m all over it,” she said, bouncing happily. “Just trust your Aunty Pinkie Pie to get it done.”
“Hey, guys.” Grif smiled as the foals entered The Punch Bowl. “It’s been a while.”
The crowd of foals cheered, Pipsqueak’s father roaring louder than the rest. From the back, Cheerilee sat with her sister. A brown coated stallion with an hourglass cutie mark sat next to a grey pegasus mare with a yellow mane. The group soon quieted down to let Grif speak again.
“So, has everyone been good? Doing your homework and eating your broccoli?” Grif asked.
The responses from the foals were very mixed. Some agreed heartily. Others roved their eyes around the room as if they had not heard him ask.
“Well, I guess that will have to do for now. But kids, I’m adding a new rule.” Grif looked at Cheerilee and winked. “Your teacher is going to be letting me know. And if the entire class doesn’t keep up with their grades, we may have to stop the stories until everyone's caught up, understand?”
The foals agreed somewhat reluctantly.
“Okay,” Grif smiled. “So is everypony ready?” he asked. The room broke into a chorus of excited yeses and yays.
“Okay. Well, over the next few weeks, I will be telling you all a series of seven stories,” Grif said, sitting down in front of the foals. “Stories about a place different from equestria, even different from the humans’ world. This place is a land called Narnia. Our story begins a very very long time ago in a large human city known as London…”
Derpy looked over at the Stallion next to her. “Doctor?” She whispered. “He’s talking about that mythical city as well. Have you been to Narnia?”
The Stallion chuckled a little, shaking his head. “Oh no. It is a fantastic story by a rather revered Englishman. Just sit back and listen. I’m sure I’ve got a copy of the series back in the Tardis. You to read them whenever you like so you can revisit the stories again and again.”
“Thank you, Doctor.” Derpy replied with a smile as she settled back into her seat. She soon lost herself in another world as Grif’s captivating voice led her through secret passages into a forest of trees, pools, and a different kind of magic.
Princess Celestia slowly sat down in her bed chamber. The moonlight shone brightly through the window as she gazed into the night sky. “My dear, dear sister,” She whispered. “How the world has changed. May your Thestrals bring you joy. The joy that was cut short long ago.” She turned to her desk and let her eyes wander over the parchments until they focused on one particular message. The letter was written with green ink and she smiled as she slowly began to fill out another parchment, occasionally returning to it for reference. She soon finished, rolled it up, sealed it with wax, and stamped it with the royal seal. A few seconds later she set it aflame, sending it off to some other location. Then her gaze shifted to another set of parchments in a manilla folder. She shook her head slowly. “I think it is time a few misplaced letters made their way around,” She muttered as she began reading through what looked like a report of some kind. “Though, if this stays the same course, I may have to let others take this problem into their hooves.”
She soon finished and levitated another sheet of parchment over, her pen poised . She looked at it, tapped it with her quill, and wrote a single word. Then she broke off and sighed dejectedly. “What am I to write to the human’s world if they do not return home? A letter of thanks? Assurance?” She shook her head. “Yet Earth seems to be more warlike than the Pegasi. Perhaps I should bear that in mind when I write.” She began to write again before groaning in frustration. A moment later the letter was incinerated. “I think I shall consult with the three humans later for their input. It seems only fair since it is about them, after all.”
She got up and looked towards another part of her quarters and smiled. There, above the fireplace, familiar faces beamed back down on her. Luna, Princess Cadence, Twilight as a foal, and even some more recent additions. Cadence stood with her new husband, Shining Armor, and her recently reunited siblings as Queen of the Crystal Empire. Lord Hammer Strike stood next to them as the foals played on his back, his expression still as flat as she remembered. She smiled as she walked up to the pictures. “May the day come where our timelines shall finally meet together, teacher.” She walked to the side of her bed where she began to move her wings and limbs in a slow, measured matter. After working out the kinks, she sighed and settled into her bed.
Yet something still nagged at the back of her mind. It was like she was waiting for another horseshoe to drop, but why? Lord Hammer Strike had forgiven her for letting her sister’s armor fall into decay, and even let her go on the lack of practice after he caught her up to speed. What was she missing? She tossed and turned in bed before shoving it away. Such things could wait for the morning. She needed her sleep to raise the sun at dawn.
Extended Holiday Ch 48: One Thousand Years Later Act 5
As the moon rose over the fortress bathing all in its radiant light, Pensword stood keeping watch from one of the towers in the inner sanctums. He gazed upon the forest and sighed. So much had changed. Trees were not in the right place. Much of the undergrowth had been cleared and replaced with cruder walls that had sprung up to provide extra protection. Out on one side of the valley he could make out the scar where many elder trees had been felled, most likely to provide warmth and comfort in the chill of the mountain winters. Still, the Thestrals maintained their love of life, taking only the old growth and dead wood while leaving the newer trees time to grow for later use and harvest. If any fires were to start here, it would be a simple matter to extinguish.
He swiveled an ear behind him towards the walls and smiled at the sound of shovel striking earth. Unicorns liked to build tall things, Pegasi built clouds and the like in the sky. And Earth Ponies built more like Earth: solid, firm, and long lasting. Thestrals, Thestrals it seemed, loved to tunnel and build underground. Caves were their monuments, and their escape. Having seen the extensive tunnels in an earlier tour, he could not help but recall the ancient temples in the Middle East from back on Earth, built into the very mountains themselves. He paused as he heard hoofsteps echoing behind him.
“Um … Commander Pensword, sir? … Permission to speak?” The voice was young. The pony couldn’t be very far past its foalhood.
“Permission granted,” Pensword replied, smirking as he continued to look down on the world below. He liked the gumption the child had. He sought him out, and most likely did not give up at the first sign of failure. Certainly he could spare a few moments to hear what the boy wanted to say.
“My name is Nightwing, sir. I’m from the caves. And, well … I couldn’t help but ask ... How did you get moonkissed?” Turning around, Pensword could see the young foal in the moon light. His fur was a deep blue, his mane blacker than the night itself. A black mask with a pegasus wing on one side and a Thestral wing on the other served as his cutie mark.
“That, I cannot say,” Pensword replied. “Not because I cannot, nor want to tell you, but because for as long as I can remember, I have been so. My parents told me when they found and adopted me into their family, and the Dream Clan, that I was already moonkissed.” He smiled and bent down to the young colt’s level. “Be not pinning for things you cannot have. I have done that in the past. I still do in some matters, but it is no use crying over lost moonlight. Look for your own path. Seek your own destiny. Faust has a plan for you, just as she did for me. It will take time to find it, and effort to stay on it, but know that when you do, you will be singing to the Moon with all your heart and weeping tears of joy.”
“... I do wish I was moonkissed. I’ll admit it. Before we had to hide, my family always had at least one every generation. I just don’t get why it suddenly stopped. Did we fall out of favor with the moon? Have we done something wrong?”
Pensword paused. “Did you come from the Caves? From the Meeting grounds?” He had an idea, but he would need to find some information first. ‘Great,’ he thought to himself he was thinking like Twilight. Actually ... no. He paused in his thinking as he realized something. He thought like this before he even met Twilight. He hid the shock, but he had to acknowledge the facts. His human memories had faded into the background. He didn’t know whether to like this, or be afraid of it. Either way, this would take some getting used to.
“Yes,” the child replied. “This is the first time I’ve been able to really enjoy the night sky. We’re all excited about it.” Nightwing said, smiling sheepishly.
“Well, maybe enjoy the moonlight then. Go out and fly and have a good time. This is a time for celebration, a time for joy and wonderment.” Pensword said as he looked back out from the old landing tower.
The young one perked up. “Thanks. Um … would you like to fly with us? That is … if you’re not too busy,” Nightwing asked, scuffing a hoof on the stone sheepishly.
“Why not? I have a night free to myself. However, you might have to allow an extra flyer to come with if she shows up. I can never say no to my mate flying with me.” He replied with a small chuckle.
The child’s eyes lit up like a shooting star in the night sky. “Really?”
“Really really.” Pensword replied with a chuckle. “So, where do you want to fly to first?” He asked as he laid a wing over the colt’s shoulders.
Twilight Sparkle moved to her door wondering who would be knocking at this time of day. She was almost finished with ‘105 ways to cook with alchemy, volume 4.’
“Who is it?” she called as she opened the door.
“You ask and open without giving me a second to answer,” Hammer Strike replied with an unamused look.
“Uh… sorry?” Twilight asked, confused.
“So, a thought occurred to me which was along the lines of the fact that you have no idea how lucky you got off last time you messed with Thaumaturgy,” he started, shoving his way through the door and into the main sitting room of the library. “As such, I have decided I’m going to show you just how lucky you were.”
“O-okay.” Twilight’s ears lowered a bit as she recalled the incident. “I’m really sorry about that. I was just curious.”
“I hadn’t put what would happen with failure. And with that lacking, it’s obvious that curiosity would take over. So, in order to show you why I wrote the warning, I am doing two things. First, I am writing the best case scenario in case something goes wrong in the book. And second, I’m going to actually show you what happens.”
“Should I take notes?” Twilight asked with an equal mix of curiosity and anxiety.
Hammer Strike shrugged. “If you want. But I’m positive you will remember it,” He said before clapping his hooves together and rubbing them. “So, we will need a wooden box, or chest that you no longer need, a good amount of room away from wandering eyes, like a basement, and…” He paused as he turned the gem on his bracelet, reverting to his human counterpart. “I need to be like this.”
“Okay.” Twilight nodded. “Give me a minute.” She left the room for a few moments before returning with a non-distinct small chest. “Will this do?”
“Perfect. Now, if you know how to enchant objects to be more resilient, I would suggest doing that.”
Twilight’s horn glowed brightly as her magic wrapped around the box before vanishing.
“Good. Now I just need to steal the flame from one of your candles...” He said looking towards the nearest one.
“You're going to take a flame from a candle?” Twilight asked.
“Well, this-” He said, snapping his fingers to create a small flame on his finger. “Is cheating.” He finished, extinguishing the flame.
Twilight’s jaw dropped.
Continuing on his current task, Shawn walked over to one of the candles in the Library and placed his hand next to the fire. “Step one.” He said, closing his hand over the flame. “Breaking down and condensing.” He moved his hand towards Twilight as he opened his palm to reveal a small orange crystal.
“It seems stable,” Twilight noted.
“I’ve practiced a few times.” He replied. “Now, the box, and I guess a trip into the basement away from anything… not easily replaceable. Just in case.”
Twilight opened the box for him as Shawn placed the crystal inside. Afterwards he closed it and grabbed ahold of it, severing the levitation spell Twilight had been using. “Mixing magic is something I want to avoid for the moment,” he explained.
Twilight nodded sheepishly before she led him down the stairs to her basement laboratory.
“What in the world is that thing?” Shawn said, looking at the giant piece of technology that looked like it belonged in the Batcave for the Batman show in the early sixties.
“That, is my computer.” Twilight smiled with pride. “It’s state of the art. I only have access to it because I’m Celestia’s student.”
“State of the art…” He said, looking around the thing for a moment. “Uh…”
“It has a whole ten megabytes of computing power,” she said proudly.
Shawn gave a brief snicker, before shaking his head. “Alright, let’s continue,” He said, finding a nice open space away from most of the objects in the room. “Now, we step to the back of the room,” he said, leading Twilight to what he deemed a safe distance. “Anything to say before I start?”
“No. We should be safe down here,” she said
Shawn snickered again. “We’re only safe because I made the smallest crystal I could.” He pointed towards the box. “Now say goodbye to everything on that side of the room.”
“What?” was all Twilight could get out before Shawn snapped his fingers. The box burst into luminescence to match the sun for all of a couple seconds before dimming back down to nothing.
“Kidding, of course,” he commented, chuckling at Twilight’s reaction. “Done.” The box was still on the other side of the room. Nothing seemed damaged or out of place. All in all, everything looked the same. Twilight approached the box cautiously.
“...What happened?” she asked.
“Go ahead and open the box,” He said in response.
Twilight carefully opened the box with her magic. The interior was burned and blackened. What once had been smooth finished wood now stood rough, charred, and uneven against her hoof. Several chunks broke off into fragments while other segments had been completely burned away, leaving only a thin layer of wood between it and the edge of the box. Yet despite the damage, there was no sign of ash. No residue. Nothing remained on the inside.
“But, but, that’s impossible,” Twilight sputtered. “Even magic can’t totally destroy something,” she said, checking the box once more.
“That’s because it’s not destroyed. It’s all around us,” Shawn replied as he raised his hand towards his head. “And the fun part,” He sighed as he placed his hand on the side of his head, igniting it in blue fire as his eyes began to glow. “It’s all around us.” He said, repeating himself once again while looking around. “The aspects that made up the box are floating around the room, each separated from its solid mass.”
“So then, if this hit a living pony…” Twilight started, stopping to gape as the realization hit her.
“Life, broken down into strands of energy, strands of aspects, scattered in the wind around us,” Shawn finished as he removed his hand from his head. His eyes ceased glowing as he looked around again. “Invisible to the eyes.”
“You’re bleeding,” Twilight said, motioning towards her nose with a hoof.
Shawn placed his hand under his nose for a second and pulled it back to show glistening blood. “And that, is why you try to limit the use of seeing thaumic energies by pouring some into the eyes.” He shook his head lightly. “I’ll be fine. But now you know why I put that warning there in the first place.” He looked at her. “Now do you know why I was upset that you even tried?”
“But how did you control it then?” Twilight asked.
“Honestly, by studying every piece of information in the book, running through worst case scenarios mentally, and trying to understand how to avoid them. But most of that information, oddly enough, comes from later chapters in the book.” He shrugged. “However, since you now know why I told you to not try anything without me being here...”
“What about another aspect? Not every element is as destructive as fire, right?” Twilight asked, stampeding over Shawn’s statement. Fortunately for her, he didn’t mind.
“Oh no, definitely not. They get to be worse the more compounded the aspects are. Fire is a base aspect. There are six base aspects,” He replied, pulling out a book from his coat. “I have them written down here,” He said holding the book towards her.
Twilight grabbed it in her telekinetic grasp and opened to the front page. Suddenly, 105 ways to cook with alchemy didn’t seem like such a necessary skill to have. “We will get to experiment with this, right?” she asked.
“As long as I am here to ensure the conflicting fields of magic don’t clash horribly.”
“When will we be able to start?”
“Unless you make trips to New Unity, not for awhile, sadly. There’s still plenty of work to do, rebuilding a city and whatnot,” he replied as he started to trot up the stairs. “I’ll be heading out now,” He said, turning the gem to revert back to Hammer Strike.
Twilight scanned the table of contents carefully as she followed him. “There are chapters missing,” she noted.
“Exactly. And it should stay that way,” he replied as he stopped at the front door.
“But the book’s incomplete.”
“I still have chapters to translate, but those ones are going to stay untranslated.”
Twilight gaped at him, her expression a mixture of horror and confusion.
“Some things are going to stay unwritten, not because they are dangerous,” he started. “But because they are fatal.”
Twilight shuddered, then nodded sadly as Hammer Strike walked out of the door, closing it behind him.
Thalia marched next to the new warrior as the two made their way towards the heart of the garden. At intermittent intervals, Big Guns had asked her to wait while he broke away from the path, as if he had suddenly remembered something vitally important. When he came back he was wearing a new piece of equipment and looking more confident with every step. His most recent acquisitions, a large black sword, a giant stone hammer, and an archaic war axe glinted in the light as they hung in their places, complimenting the red pauldrons and harness complete with knife set he had already found previously. The sword and hammer were strapped to his massive back while the third remained attached to his waist in a side holster.
“And just how did you know these things were there again?”
“I don’t know. Big Guns just … knew. Like they were part of me.” The large creature had been struggling with his speech, trying to sound a little more like he remembered his old self being, rather than his new self. However, it seemed he was getting a little more comfortable finding a middle ground for both. Thalia looked over the weapons with a trained eye and wondered who they may have belonged to before Big Guns had taken them.
The black sword gleamed like glass, but when tested, withstood blows harder than diamond. Just what substance had gone into its creation? She wondered if it might not be the result of some form of alchemy that had taken place here. The hilt of the blade was made from bronze polished to glow as red as fire, intricately crafted and accented by a silver snake curving and slithering along its length as it perched on the crossguard. Some of the coils lowered themselves down to the pommel, wrapping around it to form the mount while others wrapped around the two great onyx stones that were mounted in place beneath the guard on either side of the blade. Two serpent heads formed the edges of the cross guard near the hilt, their tiny ruby eyes gleaming as they gazed out into the world. At times, she could almost swear the snakes were moving while the sword rested in its sheath, but that would be impossible. She shook her head as her gaze wandered to the other two acquisitions.
The war axe was beautifully crafted, made from pure silver. When it caught the light, little veins of purer material shone brightly, pulsing like a living work of art. Could this be the legendary mythril she had heard so much about? The way it sparkled, it was almost as if flecks of diamond had been used in its forging. The massive shaft of the handle shone brightly polished in the afternoon light. After a multitude of tests, Thalia had come to the conclusion it could only be the mighty black wood of Zebrica, one of the densest trees in all Equis. Commonly called Zebra Wood due to how the creatures guarded them zealously for their resiliency, beauty, and sacred spiritual nature. Most of the time, this wood would be used to craft totems and a variety of other mystical items for shamans, witch doctors, and tribal leaders to use in their professions as well as for the natural healing properties in their leaves. A large spike jutted up from the center, tipped with a light but powerful metal. In testing the weapon earlier, Big Guns had been able to bore a hole in a nearby boulder in mere moments. She shuddered to think what it could do to a creature’s armor.
Lastly, the battle hammer stood in all its glory. The great weapon had been expertly chiseled from a type of rock she could not identify. The stone was relatively dark, but not to an extreme. It rather reminded her of the whetstones they had used to predict the weather while travelling through the everfree. The stone was cool to the touch and interwoven with a spiralling scroll of metal branching out from its base. The metal gleamed in the sunlight and seemed to take on a variety of colors depending on how the light touched it. A great polished opal lay affixed to the bottom of the axe, mounted in a metal fixture from which the tendrils she had noticed earlier sprang and wove up the shaft like roots.
When Big Guns held it, the metal shone silver mixed with cool blue. While when Thalia had been given it, a mixture of yellow, orange, and blood red blazed up and down the shaft. She did not dare attempt to lift such a weapon. Still, the wood was unknown to her. Once again, quite resilient. Her claw would not leave so much as a scratch. Only a couple of fine flakes from the varnish fell into her open hand. The shaft was a deep reddish brown when normally held. But when Big Guns entered a battle stance, the wood seemed to darken and the mark she had left disappeared. It was almost as if this weapon were alive. And if such were the case, Big Guns would need to be wary of it. Enchanted weapons were dangerous enough, but living weapons could easily take control of their users just as much as the user would take control of them. Or worse yet, abandon their owner and refuse to be used in time of need.
“Don’t worry, Lit-errr Thaila.” Big Guns said, chuckling nervously at his mistake. “Big Guns will be fine. They like me.” He said, motioning to the weapons with a nod of the head.
“Just … be careful, alright Big Guns? … I don’t want to have to fight you again.”
“We won’t. Big Guns likes you. He … I won’t fight you unless Big Guns has to.” He groaned. “Sorry. Speaking normal is harder than it looks.”
Thalia chuckled, then broke out into a full throated laugh. “Don’t worry about it, Big Guns.” She said, patting him on the back as she stood on her hind legs. “It sure has been a long trip these last few days though, hasn’t it?”
“Lots of ground to cover. And I had to get you back to the path.” His face fell. “I can’t believe Big Guns fell for something like that. Magic always has a price.” His head dropped and his shoulders slumped as he heaved a heavy sigh.
“But at least you got your wish, right? And you’re still you in there. That’s something at least.”
“To tell you the truth, Big Guns doesn’t know anymore. He- I mean I-” He groaned in frustration. “You see what I mean? Can’t even talk straight.”
“Sure you can. You’re just talking more like a minotaur would than a pony, that’s all. Your new form probably was given new habits and mannerisms to help you adjust. You sure seemed like you were able to use your fingers well when you handled your weapons. And I haven’t seen talent with arms like that in a long time. My mother would be impressed. I wouldn’t be surprised if Grif was too.” She winced a little as she remembered the tall gryphon with the smoldering eyes. Such fury, such loss, such rage. Was that what her father was like when he had been alive? And how could she face him? Looking back on the events, she definitely could have handled things better despite her fear for her mother’s leg. “... stupid.” she muttered, rebuking herself.
“What’s stupid?”
“Oh, nevermind, Big Guns. I was just thinking about some things I did before all this started. If it weren’t for Zecora, I wouldn’t even be here right now. And my mother’s leg would have been lost entirely.”
“Zecora?” Big Guns snorted in shock. “You know Zecora?”
“Do you?” Thalia asked, surprised.
“She helped Big Guns big time before he came here. Told me to go back to Ponyville after having some tea. Even pointed out the path. She made me feel better. She was different, like me. But … I wasn’t ready to go home yet. So Big Guns went the other way instead and got lost.” He sighed heavily. “Wish I’d listened now.”
“Big Guns, you can’t change the past,” Thalia said, batting a parasprite casually as they continued along. “But if there’s one thing this crazy journey’s taught me, you can learn from it. Look on the bright side for now and just keep going. Maybe you’re like this because this is what you need. Your special talent was supposed to be strength, right?”
“... Yeah. Big Guns fell pretty flat in that though.”
Thalia laughed. “Big Guns, you lovable idiot. There’s more than one kind of strength in the world, you know. You were brave enough to step into the Everfree all by yourself, unarmed. You met a mysterious Zebra who everyone thought was a witch and discovered she was actually kind. And then you continued to walk through the Everfree until you found what you wanted. It may not have turned out the way you planned, but that still takes a lot of courage and a lot of strength to manage. Especially with all the wild monsters you had to face to get here.” She stopped walking and poked a claw at the minotaur’s chest. “Your true strength is right in here. Every warrior’s is.”
Big Guns smiled as his mark glowed briefly. He straightened himself back up and looked the gryphoness in the eye. “Thank you, Thalia. That’s the nicest thing anypony’s ever said to me.” He grabbed her in a big hug and squeezed before putting her back down again. “I’m not gonna cry. I’m not gonna cry,” Big Guns said, turning away briefly as he swept tears from the edge of his eyes. Thalia gasped, gulping air as she recovered from the sudden bout of affection before she preened her feathers back into alignment.
“Well, um … you’re welcome, I guess,” she said as she scuffed the dirt with one of her paws. “We should probably keep moving though. I need to get those leaves.”
“Right. We’re almost there. The lake should be just over this hill.”
A mischievous light glinted in Thalia’s eyes. “Race you to the top?”
Big Guns smirked. “You’re on!” The pair charged ahead. Big Guns ran with his head down, horns forward as Thalia sprang into the air, her wings fully extended. By the time Big Guns made it to the top, she had already alighted safely on the ground. The minotaur snorted, then laughed. “Alright. I guess you win this one. Next time we race, we’re doing it ground only, got it?”
“It’s a deal.”
“Well well, I was wondering how long it’d take you tae finally get here,” a familiar voice spoke from behind. Azeez sat hovering in a floating lawn chair sipping tea as he eyed the gawking pair. “That is, if’n ye were tae get here at all, mind ye. Ye broke the rules. Buuuut it wasn’t all your fault. So I convinced the garden tae let ye by this time. It helps having a resident tae guide ye, don’t it?”
“Big Guns is no resident,” The minotaur snorted.
“Of course ye are. The garden’s left its mark on ye, just like it does every other visitor who stays,” he said calmly as he poured another cup. “Why else do ye think ye’ve got those vines in yer mane? And besides that, ye said so yourself. Ye’ve been tae the tree before. I warned ye when ye first came what the consequences would be, Big Guns. Magic always has a price.”
“You tricked him.” Thalia growled, drawing her axe.
“I did nothing of the sort, lass.” Azeez said, raising a placating hand. “I warned him tae get what he wanted, he’d lose something as well. Equivalent exchange. Such is the way with magic. Ye cannae have somethin’ for nothin’. The Garden supplied what he wanted. Nothing more, nothing less. It’s his own thirst for power that undid him in the end. Though I’ll fancy the sprout at the wall helped him along. Nasty little weed, that was. But that’s all past now, isn’t it? Come along. I’ll take ye the rest of the way.”
“Wait,” Thalia ordered.
“Ye’ll both be gettin yer answers in due time. First come with me tae the lake. The tree’s a waiting. I’ll explain when we get there.”
“You swear by this?”
“I give you my solemn vow,” He said, all playfulness gone from his demeanor. “All will be revealed when we reach the tree. If not, then I will wither away and die, and a new caretaker will take my place.”
“... So be it.”
Pensword looked around, confused. Mere moments ago he was sleeping in bed with Lunar Fang, or Moonshade depending on who you asked. Now he was somewhere else. He scanned his surroundings as he made out what appeared to be a tall podium with a large book next to it. Over to the right he could just make out a stand with several empty seats broken up into three separate pews. Above him, he could see the colors of Equestria flying among the rafters with the flags of victories past. And there in the very heart of them all, waving directly over his head, a flash of red white and blue caught his eye. “... The American flag?” he whispered in confusion as he eyed the sun’s rays shining through its cloth. He followed them to its source, craning his neck.
Far above he could just make out a massive stained glass window. He stared, dropping his jaw as he took in the details. A human knelt weeping in the center on a desert floor. His hands were folded tightly over his chest, clutching the jagged half of a red heart. Below, the broken remains of machine parts lay scattered as bolts bounced and rolled into cracks in the parched ground. Wires sparked weakly as the human’s eyes looked down. Teardrops fell to the ground, each holding the face of a human from the past. A strange man with a white beard and a hat reflecting the colors of the American Flag stood looking one way, while a different human looked out the other way in profile. A kindly smiling woman, a taller, broader man in a suit. All so familiar, all so well known. Above, two more humans stood behind the first, each placing a hand on his shoulders. The left one smiled mischievously with a sad glint in his eyes as two sword hilts stuck out from his back. A large red gauntlet hung at his side, emphasizing the lighter blue of his iris. The other human stared with a piercing gaze filled with determination and loyalty accented by his roguish garb and poofy neck accessory. Hovering overhead with a worried expression, a thestral looked on. Above her, the edge of a shining orb accented with green and blue shone brightly. Earth portrayed in all its beauty from space. He lowered his gaze back to the courtroom and peered into the darkness ahead.The other side escaped his vision for now, swathed in shadows.
He tried to swivel his ears only to find they would not obey him. Worried, he raised his hand to check what was wrong. He jolted suddenly when he realized just what he was staring at. A hand. A very human hand with a human arm attached to it, covered with human clothing. Looking down at himself, he realized he was wearing what looked like the traditional garb of a colonial soldier. How was this possible? He couldn’t exist in this form. He’d died the last time they tried. And yet, there it was. He could feel his glasses on his nose, the K-BAR from his uncle strapped to his thigh. And there, at his feet, lay the silver attache case he had taken with him that fateful night so long ago.
“Is this …?”
“A dream?” The human turned to face the opposite side of the room as bright pinpricks of light flickered into existence. Gradually, the shadows retreated and coalesced into familiar shapes. Moon stones hung in cleverly crafted fixtures, revealing the wooden panels lining the floor. Cobbled stone walls rose to the vaulted ceiling where a stained glass window shone brightly in moonlight, portraying a blue pegasus with white mane and folded wings, his head bowed. A line of tears flowed down his cheeks as a thestral embraced him. In the circles below the main figure, images of ponies from the past danced and wavered a light blue, shimmering in the moonlight that streamed through. He recognized them as the ghosts of the past, of family long since gone, yet still here. In two golden orbs to the upper right and left of the pony, Hammer Strike and Grif stood. Hammer looked down with his same usual flat expression while Grif smiled mischieviously, a dagger in one hand, sharpened claws extended with his other. Above them both, the two royal sisters stood smiling down, their wings extended in a protective manner, reaching to embrace the four as the Mane Six smiled serenely from their six golden spheres evenly spaced around the edge of the window. Their elements stood proudly on their necks and tiarra respectively.
Staring in awe, he could just make out the The banners of the princesses, the Thestral Nation, the Gryphon Slayers, and lastly, the banner of House Pen. They hung in sequence, intermittently spaced as they left the middle ground to meet above a dark blue pony with tufted ears and pegasus wings. His white mane shone brightly with his tail, perfectly groomed as they sprouted from his formal garb. The sword and armor of his station glinted and creaked in the evening light. His gruff voice bespoke wonder and confusion mixed with a hint of outrage.
“Pensword?” The pony turned his piercing gaze on the human before his eyes widened.
“... Matthew?” he asked uncertainly.
“I … think so?” Matthew answered, still feeling very much confused and more than a little groggy.
“But … you are supposed to be dead.”
“Gee. Thank you so much for that lovely thought,” the human said, heaving a heavy sigh.
“I am … sorry.” Pensword shifted a hoof nervously, looking away from the human across the way as he apologized.
“Look, we can worry about technicalities later. Where in Celestia’s name are we? And why are we separate?”
Pensword motioned to answer, but was overridden as a booming voice echoed across the expanse of the room. “All rise for the Honorable Judge Luna!”
“Luna?” The two cried in unison, jumping to their feet and hooves respectively as a bright beam of light began to shine above the seat at the top of the podium. It continued to grow in intensity until at last, the two had to look away. There was a bright flash combined with a sound as a great wind rushing through trees. Then came the silence.
When the two were able to see again, there stood the alicorn princess in all her glory wearing a black judge’s robe. Her mane flowed casually behind her, adding to the appearance of grandeur. A white judge’s wig hung from the top of her head, held in place by her horn. Behind her a stained glass window reformed, taking the shape of a stalwart mare with a flowing mane, confident and bold. Her flank met with that of a gentler mare with a less certain expression. Her head hung lower as she looked on timidly. Both shared the royal cutie mark. Above the two, a large full moon shone brightly, dotted with stars. Below them, the image of Princess Celestia smiled warmly up with a gentle golden halo. Between their horns, the eye of the Thestral Nation looked out upon the courtroom, a symbol of order and peace.
“Matthew, Pensword,” Luna began, nodding to each respectively. Her gaze was firm and resolute. “You have been hiding behind each other, refusing to meet. Refusing to reconcile the forces of nature that are your passion, will, and sense of self. If I am to have a Commander in peace, the Commander I want and need, then you two SHALL,” her voice, while it had not risen in volume, shook the room nonetheless. “Make amends, find peace, and come to a middle ground. Grif has already done so. Hammer Strike has not had this problem. I shall stay here to keep this dreamscape stable. Your mission is to establish just who you are, what you are, and where your loyalties lie. Begin!” Luna smashed her hoof on a metal dish, filling the room with the great clop of the Royal Equestrian Gavel.
“What?” Matthew asked in a shocked tone as his voice rose in pitch. “What is this?” His eyes widened as he turned to Pensword. “You … you’re me?” He asked, trying to understand things. It felt as if he had only just woken from a very long dream. “Who are you?”
“I am Commander Moonkissed Pensword of the Dream Clan of the Northern Bear Tribe. I have fought to save the lives of ponies so none would have to suffer as we did.”
Matthew flinched as a bombardment of images and memories came to the fore, playing in the intermittent space between the two. He nearly lost his dinner. “But did you have to be so bloody about it?” Matthew asked, his face pale. “Did you have to push and drive the Gryphons with a vengeance unseen since the times of Babylon or the Huns?” The history books and movie scenes Matthew had researched from his studies played back next to the images of Pensword’s actions during the war. This time, Pensword recoiled, but soon recovered.
“You and I both know that these were entirely different circumstances. They would have done as Attila the Hun did, or your Adolf Hitler,” Pensword countered, using Matthew’s memories of his research from World War Two and the crimes committed therein. “They butchered my family, my town, and hundreds if not thousands of innocent ponies. Living, intelligent beings, because they were supposedly inferior. Just like those Jews.”
“... Point taken.” Matthew paused, then tried a different tact. “Why did you never try to find your past? You accepted adoption and yet you never looked for your birth parents. Why?”
“Because I was happy. I had a family, I had loving parents, a brother, and a sister who worshipped me almost as much as I loved her. Why did I need to go searching for others?”
“Because family is what drove me. You were adopted into Thestral society, but did you study past what you saw? Asked why, just because you could?” Matthew looked at the counter and then back up at the Pegasus Thestral hybrid. “You didn’t even wonder why you had your cutie mark at such a young age. Do you have any idea how hard that is, being locked away for so many years? I could hardly remember anything from my old life until Luna brought us here.”
“Why did I need more?” Pensword shouted. “I was happy. We were happy. Why did we need more from the world?”
“Because you- we had something missing. A void,” Matthew replied. “You were scared that you would wake up and this family would have been nothing more than a dream.” He clenched his fists. “Five open heart surgeries taught me to love life. Both the good and the bad. You dealt with the bullies in the village, but you were scared to push your mind past the boundaries while I was trapped staring out, starving, shrinking into nothingness. You were scared to let me out because you thought I would say that you had to lose your family.” Matthew looked right at Pensword. “Why were you so scared to lose that life?”
“Why are you soscared to accept it?” Pensword countered, thumping his chest with a hoof. “Life here has been better to us. We have health. We served something greater. We found love!”
“Greater? I serve a Crown. I serve a symbol of oppression from Earth. I know Equestria can be different, but you come from your world and I come from my own. MY family severed their ties to royalty to fight for the freedom of the colonies. Colonies that eventually became my country. They formed their own government, all to have the right and freedom to live in peace, to pursue happiness. To avoid persecution and abuse!” He balled his hand into a fist. “... I was getting better,” He growled as tears formed in his eyes. Suddenly, a voice he recognized echoed in the room. He clenched his teeth. It was his surgeon.
“We might need to watch him. If his heart rate doesn’t improve in a year, he could need a pacemaker.” The voice lingered, holding over the last word.
Matthew glared at Pensword. “I may have better health, but it was as another creature.” He took a breath to steady himself. “We found love, yes, but can ... what if we have to go home? What if...?” he trailed off as a hoof from Pensword slammed the bench. The pony snorted steam, heaving.
“Would you dare to leave her, even if you could? Would you leave our foal? Would you just abandon everything we have built here?” he growled at Matthew as the image of Lunar Fang appeared before them, smiling as she looked down at her distended flanks. His squadron of cadets and the Gryphon Slayers appeared behind her, all beaming with love and respect. “Equestria is just as much our home as Earth was!”
“But what if we have no choice?” Matthew shouted back. “I was ripped from Earth without a say. I’m scared I’ll just wake up one day and have this be nothing more than a dream or a coma.” He slammed his hands on the desk. “What if it comes back down to sacrificing our happiness for an entire nation? I know you. In that case at least, you and I would make the same choice. We’ve done so in the past, delayed gratification for the greater good.” Matthew took a calming breath. “That’s part of the concerns. Another is how do you think our foal will be born? Will there be the risk of my heart disease surfacing? Something from the human genes manifesting? Your body, my body … our body, was a magical construct to begin with. Are… are we even flesh and blood? … Have I become a figment?” he asked, a little fearful at where his line of questioning was leading. He quickly shook his head and broke away from that thought. “Look. Can we at least agree that family is a keystone to our beliefs?” As he asked, the images of their loved ones beamed off the windows and projected into the middle of the room like a hologram, joining those who already stood there. “What did you fight for in the war?” He asked as he stared pensively into their faces.
“I fought for others. Family first of all, but I fought so no foal would need to know the pain we felt on that day. Has Grif not told you before never to stake too much into ‘what ifs,’ as he called them? That it would drive you mad?”
“I know. I’m a historian, after all. And a darned good one. One that sees just how lucky we were back then. Change one insignificant little detail in the pattern of events and suddenly the whole house of cards falls apart. I can’t help but think things were too easy. We won’t always be so lucky, you know.” Matthew threw his hands up in the air and let out an exasperated yell. “Look, I just realized I’ve been leading us away from the main point of this conversation. Let me reiterate. Just who are we?”
Matthew’s answer came in the form of a hard buffet from a wing as Pensword launched himself at the human. “Who are we? Is that even a legitimate question? We are who we have always been. When the cards were down, we pulled through. When others would give up, we pressed on. We survived things that would have killed most ponies, and we accomplished things that lesser people would have backed away from. We are Matthew and we are Pensword.”
“We are also someone who has grown. We are ones who have had lady luck, if she exists, smile on us.” Matthew stood tall, despite the pain from the blow and the red mark that followed on his cheek. “Also, we both are hard headed and stubborn. To quote some of the values we believe in ‘Loyalty, Duty, Respect, Selfless Service, Honor, Integrity, and Personal Courage.’” Matthew sighed heavily. “We really do need this talk, don’t we?” he asked as he collapsed back down into his chair. You are as much a person as I am.” He looked into Penswords eyes. In them he could see the same concerns burning as he had. “Let’s address the main issue head on then, agreed?”
“... Agreed.”
“We are both afraid that we might vanish, leaving the other in full control. That is what I am afraid of. That I will cease to be, leaving only my memories, or what little of them is left by now, for you.” He saw a motion from Pensword to continue and Matthew sighed with a sad smile. “You know me too well. Alright, I’ll admit it. I’m jealous tool. Taze and Shawn can be human, and yet… I am always Pensword. I can see our mind, calling us Pensword even in my memories.” He looked at his other self as the many arguments ranging from loyalty to opposite sides of government to difference in culture and species an all things in between crumbled away, revealing the true heart of the matter.
“I am jealous of myself. Of you, Pensword. I want to be back, but we both know that doing so would kill us. What kind of a world would that be? Yet, I cannot allow myself to vanish.” Matthew spewed it all out as realization finally dawned within him. He wasn’t attacking out of loyalty or stubbornness. He was attacking because he was afraid.
“We’re in this together,” Pensword said as he extended a hoof. “You think Lunar Fang would forgive me if I ever got rid of you?”
Matthew felt the room grow smaller and he moved a hand out and wrapped it around the hoof of his other half. “I doubt she would, as I was the first iteration. You, however, broke barriers that I could not.” He frowned. “Still, I would like to walk on two legs at some point.” He looked at Pensword. “Make one promise to me, please, and I shall rest in my own mind easier.”
“Name it.”
“That you remember the oath I signed as a Cadet.” Matthew sighed hollowly. “... An oath that only stands in my heart now. That you would uphold the Constitution of the United States of America. Against all Enemies foreign and domestic. So help me God. That means that as long as the Constitution stands and the nation stays true as best she can, you will not wage war against her, and by all that you hold holy by Faust and by God, you will come to her aid if you can.”
“I swear on my life … our life.”
Matthew smiled wanly. “Thank you. I think we can hold off on how to honor my side of the heritage at a later date. I feel drained. But for now at least, I have peace. We ... we both didn’t want to have this talk. I think for fear it would tear us apart.”
Pensword chuckled “I think it did just a little.” He said, pointing out their surroundings. The courtroom had been trashed. The moonstones lay on the floor, still glowing amidst the remains of their stony embrasures. Torches sprawled across the floor while splinters of wood and chunks of granite lay scattered throughout the hall. A great shining blue sphere had surrounded the moon princess as tendrils pushed out and into the walls, floor, and ceiling. Luna’s eyes were closed, her brow furrowed and sweaty as she pushed back the scape into its proper proportions. Matthew balked for a moment, then he just laughed as he joined the pegasus on the floor, falling to his back as he curled up in a fit of giggles. Pensword soon joined him.
“Wow. We really know how to blow things up, don’t we?” Matthew asked, finally getting a hold of himself as he wiped his eyes.
“Years of practice,” Pensword replied. “You remember how we beat that pegasus supremacist at her own game?”
“All those traps we laid?” Matthew chuckled again. “Brilliant strategy, by the way.”
“I would not have been able to do so without you. Your training on Earth gave me the knack for tactics here in Equestria.”
Matthew sighed. “Good times. Good times.”
“So … do we have peace?”
“I think so. Just,” he turned to Luna’s podium. She was panting heavily, but looked well satisfied as she took up her regal stance once more. “Luna, find a way for me to be human again, even if my human body has to be a magic construct…. I, I need to remember that.” He looked to Pensword. “I hope you don’t mind… I am the alien here, after all. I think I can get away with a few requests like that.” He tried to smile. “If you want, you can say something like that to the President of the United States when we meet him. After all, you would be the Alien then.”
“We would.” Pensword said, chuckling once more. Matthew started suddenly.
“Oh! I almost forgot. Could you do me just one more favor?”
“... What?” Pensword asked suspiciously.
“Start using contractions again, won’t you? I miss those.” Pensword winced.
“It doesn’t have to be all the time. Just … please. I think it’ll help me, well, us I guess, be more balanced.”
“... We shall see. One step at a time. For now, I think we are finished.”
“I think you’re right.”
The pony and the human stood shaking one another’s hand and hoof amidst the twilight that filled the courtroom, replacing the two extremes. The two stained glass pieces merged into one, shining a white light as they met. When all had settled, a new picture was revealed. The Pegasus now stood with the human shaking hands while their two best friends looked on in approval standing back to back with their Equestrian counterparts. Lunar Fang stood between them, smiling happily as the twin sisters hovered above, wings still extended. Beneath them, the ground of Equis stood while the figure of Earth still shone above, dotted with stars. The half heart beat on in the human’s chest, despite the lack of the mechanical portions. Two rings surrounded the edge of the window. The first was smaller and dyed a deep blue with black writing inscribing the names of family, friends, and loved ones intermittently spaced betwixt human and pony. The outermost layer was dyed a rich gold as each member of the Mane six smiled together in a circle of light. Their six elements bathed the unusual pair in a rainbow glow that arced out to form a multicolored six-pointed star. As a final touch, Spike appeared on Taze and Grif’s shoulders smiling that same happy go lucky smile of his while holding on to a pack of Joe’s donuts.
“It is done,” Luna said simply as she left in a flash of light. Her voice echoed within the cavernous space. “Enjoy your dreams, boys. We have a lot of work to do come next moonrise.”
Grif stalked the halls of New Unity cautiously. The hour was late and he didn’t want to wake anyone. As he passed the armory door he heard a gentle clicking sound that Renati sometimes made in his sleep. Remembering what shawn had said earlier about the phoenix waiting by the swords he could use, he peeked into the room.
Renati was asleep, perching nearby the two blades that Shawn had finished. Grif cast his eyes upon the swords. This time it seemed shawn had gone for a set of curved scimitars. They lacked embellishments save for Hammer Strike’s usual symbol on the base of the blade, but they held a fearsome sharpness to them. The blades gleamed in such a way that it almost seemed they could cut moonlight. The path of the light revealed a sharp, well honed edge. Grif took the blades into his talons, careful not to wake the phoenix. He weighed them carefully in his hands, giving them a few test swings. The balance was near flawless and he felt much stronger with the slashes than his blades from the crystal empire. Beside the blades, a set of sheaths lay in wait. The inner sheath was made of wood with several metal bands adding support to the structure. The wood itself had been bleached white. The straps designed to connect to Grif's weapon harness were made from cured deer hide reinforced by chains. With a smile, Grif unhooked his previous blades and replaced them with the new ones so the swords curved inwards between his wings, the ends of the sheaths touching together.
He attempted to stalk out silently, ever wary of waking the phoenix, only to lay his paw on a creaking board he miraculously had missed the first three times. Renati lazily opened his eyes and stared at the intruder. Thankfully, the bird didn’t seem to want to move at the moment and settled on giving Grif a strong glare that promised something in the future.
“Sorry, big guy.” Grif smiled awkwardly. “I’ll get you some coal tomorrow, okay?”
The glare never left Renati’s face.
“Get some sleep, buddy,” Grif said before slipping out of the armory. Moving as quietly as possible, he made it to his tower without incident. Now he just needed to not wake Shrial. He shuddered. If he woke her, then he’d really be in for it.
“So you're finally going to show me how to do some of this stuff?” Grif asked as he and Shawn walked into the forest clearing. Open sky graced their faces, bathing the ground in liquid moonshine as the stars glittered like well polished jewels. New Unity lay a good couple of miles behind them.
“Considering I blew up a chest in Twilight’s basement to ensure she knew why I didn’t want her to mess with it without me being there, I figured why not show you a few things,” Shawn replied. “Rule one. Human form only.”
Grif nodded before switching into his human form. For a brief second the figure of a bipedal gryphon flashed during the process.
“I shouldn’t have to say any more rules besides that. You should already know the rest.”
“Don’t act before you do, don’t push past what I can do, and keep concentrating at all times.” Taze shrugged. “The rest are dependent on the situation”
“If you don’t think you can do something I tell you to, tell me then. And do not be overconfident about yourself, because it will kill you here. There is no second chance.”
“Very well, Sensei. The floor is yours.” Taze swept the night air with his hand.
“I’m also going to test a few dangerous things as well.” Shawn gave a slight shrug. “We’ll see how that goes…” He said, pulling a matchbook out of his coat.
“Where do we begin?”
“We’re going to start with a nice, simple trick. Crystallizing aspects from a source,” He said, raising the matchbook into view. A moment later he pulled a few candles.
“You realise that you can keep going, right? I’m clever. I’ll keep up,” Taze said, lifting an eyebrow.
“I would love to. And should you miss one little detail, not even kidding, one detail, you could kill us both.”He replied. “So yeah, basics for now. Fire.” He said, lighting a candle and placing it down. “You read the first two chapters, know how to concentrate and, basic jist of it. Sense aspects?”
“Yes.” Taze nodded.
“Good. Now I’m going to do it once and explain the process while I perform each step. So first-” He paused and pointed towards the candle. “After sensing where the aspect is and what it is, pull on it.” He said, making a gesture with his hand as though he were pulling the flame. The further he “pulled” the weaker the flame got. But Taze could tell the energy of it was there, collecting itself under Shawn’s hand. “Once you do that, you simply compress it, slowly.” He said, putting emphasis on the word. “Do it too fast and you’ll collapse the energy and make it scatter, which is not the nicest thing.” Soon, under his hand, a small orange crystal began to take shape. It slowly increased in size until the flame died off. As soon as it finished Shawn quickly brought his hand under and grabbed the crystal. “Simple process.”
“So reach out and feel it, grasp it and pull it slowly, and apply pressure gradually to prevent explosive decompression. Am I correct?”
“Pretty much. Think you can do that?”
“Light it up and let’s see.”
Shawn noded, pulled out another match, and lit the candle once again.
“Also, out of curiosity, why the matches?”
“I’m not going to mix magic fields.” He said, making a small ball of fire above his finger. “This is fueled by raw magic, and created by raw magic. Technically a mixed aspect if you view it from a Thaumic point of view. From an Equestrian viewpoint, it’s their field of magic creating fire itself.”
“So, not ready for a possible contaminating influence. Okay.” Taze nodded. “So feel it first. Check.” Taze took a deep breath before closing his eyes and concentrating. It took him longer, but he managed to locate the energy of the fire. “Find it. Check.” It took a few attempts before he was able to “grip” the flame and start pulling on it, but he finally got a good hold. Gradually, he collected the energy. It took nearly four times the length it had taken shawn, but eventually, he felt the energy from the flame gathered in his hands. The area it had formerly occupied was now empty. “Pull it. Check.” He began to push on the heat, slowly applying pressure on all sides and gradually increasing it. He didn’t open his eyes. He didn’t allow himself so much as an afterthought as he focused. Bringing his other hand beneath the force, he kept pushing until he felt something land in his palm. Letting out a breath he wasn’t sure when he started holding, he opened his eyes. “And squeeze. Check.” He grinned at shawn, holding the crystal out for inspection.
“Well, it didn’t blow you up, so I call that a success.” Shawn replied as he grabbed the crystal. “I’ll have to release the aspects later, as I would rather not have small explosives that I haven’t fully tested yet.”
“Like C-4 quality? Nitroglycerine?”
Shawn hummed for a moment before looking around. “Let’s see… Stay right there.” He said, walking a good distance away. A moment later Taze saw him place one of the crystals on the ground and walk back. “Now, you know exactly where I put that.” He smiled. “I did this trick with Twilight but the crystal was in a locked box that was enchanted. This is going to show you the true damage it can cause if the energy is released violently.” He pointed towards the crystal. “Ready?”
“If you’re blowing stuff up, then I’m ready and waiting.” Taze smiled.
Shawn nodded and snapped his fingers. Just like before, the crystal burst into light for a few moments before dying off once again. “Shall we investigate?” He asked, holding his arm out.
“Sure. And dang, that looked liked napalm,” Taze noted.
After a brief walk the pair came to ground zero. A large ring of grass and dirt had burned away leaving no ash, no residue, nothing, despite leaving a crater that sunk into the ground by a half a foot. The ground seemed to have scorch marks, but nothing that couldn’t grow back over in time.
“... So this is one of those ‘burns everything’ kinda deals, right down to the atomic level?” Taze asked.
“Sense the aspects around you right now.”
“Something should be there. A hill or something,” Taze noted as he extended his consciousness once again. “It’s just gone.”
“It’s still there, but just the aspect energy. Just like when you drew the energy out of the fire. Before you condensed it, that’s what it was. If you let it go, it would quickly spread itself out, which could cause issues if you are close to it.”
“Well, glad I didn’t find out the hard way,” Taze noted. “I’m going to guess this whole thing’s like a muscle? Gets easier the more you work it?”
“Pretty much,” Shawn replied with a shrug. “Now, to test the dangerous thing.”
“Do we need radiation suits for this?” Taze looked at Shawn with an eyebrow raised.
“Nah. Wouldn’t save you anyways.”
“You know, if it were anyone else, I’d probably be terrified with that revelation. But from you, it’s surprisingly easy to take.”
“Now, remember how I described this?” He asked as he created a small orb of blue fire in his hand.
“Magic and fire. Compounded aspects.”
“Yep. I’m going to separate it and crystallize it.”
“Okay. You want me to stand back, or would that also be futile?” Taze asked.
“I just want you to stand at a distance and make sure NOTHING, distracts me. If something does, the aspects will scatter and it could kill me.”
“Okay.” Taze nodded in agreement, taking several steps back
Shawn moved the fire in front of him before pulling his hand back and placing it on the side, his other hand moving in the same pattern, both palms turned skyward on opposite sides of the fire. After a moment Shawn exhaled and took a breath in as he focused on the orb.
Over time Taze could sense the energies separating as the crystals began to form, one in each hand. The first one orange, the other purple, each steadily growing in scale as the fire in between them died off.
A few minutes later, two decently sized gems stood in each of his hands. He exhaled and took a few breaths. “May have used too much power in that fireball.”
“I’m guessing you nearly slipped?” Taze asked.
“No, just too much of the aspect.” He said showing the crystals to Taze. “These are very much full, and if not well cared for, very dangerous.”
“Yeah. Considering that other crystal was the size of a marble and you unmade a hill, you probably want to be careful with those.”
“On the upside, these can be used in tests for the next few chapters I need to translate.”
“What are those going to be?” Taze asked.
“Infusion and Enchanting. Also, under no circumstances should you ever try what I just did,” He said. “I’m most likely not going to try that again for a long time, at least until I do more research on it.”
“I think I’m going to stick to the small stuff. Maybe something a little less… fiery than fire.”
“Don’t worry. All of them are just as dangerous,” Shawn said casually. “Compound ones are worse though.”
“Maybe, but the heat from the fire is kinda uncomfortable,” Taze noted while idly rubbing his hands.
“I can’t say I understand the feeling, primarily because I can’t feel its heat anymore,” Shawn replied calmly as the two continued their lesson.
The trickling flow of running water ran down the slopes to the inlet as gentle waves lapped against the muddy shores. A sandy embankment marked with buoys showed a safe swimmer’s zone where a couple of ponies played and laughed, lobbing a volleyball over a net formed from coral and lake weed. One launched a spike while the other promptly leapt out of the water and smacked it back with a thick and powerful fish tail. Its leg fins and finish mane glinted and flashed in the sun, showering the water with a rippling rainbow before the pony splashed back under again. Thalia’s and Big Guns’ jaws dropped.
“Hipocampi,” Azeez said casually as he looked on. “Playful little ponies. Distantly related tae the dread Sirens, only far more cheerful. As ye can see, they love tae make guests feel at home.” Even as he finished his sentence, the other pony that had been playing hiccupped as a small pair of fins jutted out from the side of her head. She touched them for a moment, then laughed and continued to play while scales washed down her lower half and her hind legs and hooves began to merge into her frame while her tail began to shift and expand, becoming see through as the cartilage stretched.
“Shouldn’t we do something?” Big Guns asked.
“Nae. The foal asked for it. She’ll have plenty of friends in her new home, ye needn’t worry. Steven is always happy to share the lake with them.”
“Steven? He lives here?” Thalia asked, scanning the waters
“And where else would he, lass? Sea Serpents need water tae live in, after all.” The sun shone brightly on the peaceful waves, turning the water white as the trio arrived at a bluff with two rotted wooden stakes embedded in the ground. “Hmmmm … may need tae get those replaced soon.”
“You think?” Thalia asked sarcastically.
“So how do we get across?” Big Guns asked as he looked at the tree. “Last time Big Guns was here there was …” He eyed the stakes thoughtfully, then looked back at the satyr. “That’s not …”
“I’m afraid it is,” Azeez replied with a sigh. “Time is a curious thing in me garden. As a service in payment, a bridge was built here long ago. The same bridge you crossed once. It was in bad shape then, but only got worse as time went on. Now these are all that remain.”
“But -”
“Explanations will come. But first we need tae reach the tree.” Azeez let loose a sharp whistle and the waters began to roil as wave upon wave tossed across the beach. The hipocampus and its new friend laughed and dove under the waves, playfully dodging to see who could miss the impacts most while riding the crests. A few moments later, a large, dark shape burst from the water, dripping rivulets as it blocked out the sun. Big Guns reached for his war axe, but Thalia stopped him with a steady hand and shook her head. He snorted and let go of the axe, but still remained alert as he eyed the creature. A few seconds later, a very familiar orange and purple mustache broke out from the sun as Steven Magnet eyed the guests.
“Well my oh my. This certainly is a surprise. I half expected you to be lost like all the others, Thalia. And look what we have here. You found a friend? Oh, the scandal. What would your mother think, fraternizing with a minotaur. Are you two dating?”
“... On second thought, Big Guns, feel free to pull out that axe,” Thalia said with a stony face.
Steven simply laughed. “Oh, Thalia, you really need to learn to take a joke. Hello, Azeez. I assume you’d like transport to the island?”
“If’n ye don’t mind, Steven.”
“Of course. It would be my pleasure.” The serpent smiled and bowed before raising his coils. “Hop on, everypony. Magnum transport is about to leave the station.” Glowering, Thalia did so. Big Guns looked skeptical, but once Azeez was on, he followed suit. The journey was a pleasant one. No sudden dives through underwater caves or facing monsters. Instead, Steven glided through the water, propelling with his tail while making casual conversation with the adventurers. When they had reached the other shore he raised his coils to the mouldering remains of the stakes that had held the bridge. “I’ll meet you over by the tree. Good luck,” he said, waving to them as he dived underwater.
“Why didn’t he just take us to the tree directly?” Thalia grated.
“Because each of us has tae make our own way. Steven’s the guardian. He’ll have his own entrance tae make. Visitors must take their own. This way,” Azeez said, motioning with a hand as he pranced along.
“You said you’d explain things to us. Start explaining,” Big Guns demanded.
“In a moment, Big Guns. First, I have something I need to show you.” The trio walked up a large set of stairs to a great sinkhole. Sparkling gems jutted out from the sides of the wall, glowing with a pale luminescence. “Just a few more moments,” he said. The clouds above the island parted, allowing golden rays to shine down, striking the crystals. The rays refracted, jumping from crystal to crystal in a crazy pinball array until the light struck the large pond below.
“Is that it?” Thalia asked, cocking an eyebrow as she folded her arms.
“Wait for it,” Azeez said with a playful smile. A small burst of bubbles rose to the surface followed by a distant rumble. Then the whole island started to shake as the crystals began to shift along the wall, writhing like snakes. Geysers of water shot up in various locations as the island began to crumble. Without warning, a large root broke out of the ground, carrying the three as a bright glow emanated from the pool. Moments later, a massive canopy shattered the surface, sending shards of water flying everywhere. From the nothingness that once existed the tree continued to spring, growing taller and broader with every second. Soon enough it loomed over them as tall and stout as the Princess’ castle in Canterlot.
The droplets glistened on its bows, giving the tree an almost crystalline appearance. A dull silvery green glow suffused its leaves as its lower branches unfurled like a weeping willow, laden down with fruits of all shapes, sizes, and smells while still maintaining a full, lush appearance. Thicker boughs puffed outwards towards the top, reaching for the sun. A light, sweet smelling mist gradually pressed out from its crown. When all had grown quiet once more the landscape was drastically altered. The hollow of the tree now stood over a great pool, its roots burrowing deep into the lake surrounding the island. The once taller incline had worn down to a low, flat surface surrounded by soft green grass and sandy beach as Steven broached the surface and waved a hand. His body now wrapped around the island and he gazed warily towards the outer shore, ever watchful for intruders.
“Allow me to introduce ye tae the Tree of Essence,” Azeez said, bowing his head. “Where waters of life flow pure and free, there ancient essence also must be. Where one stream’s flow means journey’s end, new life is possible, and old wounds can mend. Such was the use of this aged tree by creatures of old who had the need,” Azeez said, smiling fondly as he patted the root on which they stood. “In a far off land, an ancient spring flows, granting all who drink of it new life and greater health. This spring is connected to an underground channel that flows to many places across many leagues. However, in the end, these mystical waters wind up here at the Tree of Essence, where they feed and nourish the tree before being released from its crown as water vapor to return to the land from whence they came at the mercy of the winds. And so the cycle continues and the path begins anew. Tis a closely guarded secret.”
“Then why tell us?” Thalia asked skeptically.
“Because ye have the right tae know what ye face before ye face it.” The satyr heaved a weary sigh. “This tree and its water is what keeps the rest of my garden alive. And by extension, me. As keeper of this place, I am able to feed upon the essence distilled within the tree, and thus extend my life. Should I break my vow tae ye, or my contract with this tree, I would be instantly cut off and my essence consumed tae feed the garden and its residents. The tree is fickle. It chooses what it offers based on what the visitor desires most. Should the visitor accept, the tree must take something in return tae replace what it has lost.”
“Essence,” the pair said in stereo.
“Exactly. What happened to you, Big Guns,” Azeez lilted in his brogue. “Is that ye desired to be bigger, stronger, and though ye did nae admit it at the time, you wanted tae be meaner than those who had picked on you previously. You wanted revenge.”
Big Guns dropped his head as memories from his first visit to the garden returned to him. He remembered how he had felt as strength came to his body; how he wanted more and more and more. “... and I couldn’t stop,” he said with a raspy voice.
“Do ye wish to know why?”
“Does it matter?” he snorted.
“More than ye’d think.”
“... Fine.”
Azeez leapt onto a bough and bobbed there as he drank some of the dew from its leaves. “Storytelling always makes me thirsty. Anyways, your story is a sad one, but it is not the first. Nor shall it be the last. The tale I have tae tell is short enough. But its impact was far stronger than any of us could have thought. Ye know about the tree at the edge of the garden, correct?”
“Don’t remind me,” Big Guns groaned
“You called it a weed. Why is that?” Thalia asked, curious.
Azeez brightened. “Exactly! Good, very good. You see, there was once a mighty warrior of the Minotaur nation. His prowess was legendary. However, as great as his skills in arms may have been, his bloodlust was greater. He battled and fought for dominance amongst his people and revelled in the right to kill as he pleased. In the end, he murdered one too many calves. The king of their nation could look away no more, for his only child had been counted among the dead. It took an entire squadron of their leader’s most deadly warriors to bring him in. When the time came for judgement, the king cast the warrior out of their land, swearing that if he were ever to return, he would take the warrior’s head himself.”
“Why did he show mercy?” Thalia asked.
“Because they had once been friends. And more than that, the warrior’s skill in weaponry had risen the practice to an artform. Such achievements merited a degree of mercy in their culture. But sparing the poor soul’s life was far more than that … it was foolish.” Azeez’s countenance darkened as a cloud passed over the sun, covering all in a chill shadow. “The monster found his way tae the Everfree, slaughtering all in his way.” Azeez waved his hands as the mist congealed into shapes acting out the tale as he continued to narrate. “He lived on bounties given by twin sisters who ruled in a castle closer tae the border. But eventually, his desire to test his skills led to him taking trophies for himself. He often would go on the hunt for dangerous creatures. Cockatrices, dragons, sea serpents.” Azeez looked pointedly at Steven. “All of them would feed his desire. Desire for strength. Desire for power. Desire, for vengeance. He would depose his former friend and brother in arms by strength of will and buying the loyalty of the nation. Then he would challenge his humiliator to a duel to the death and win the right to rule. So corrupted had his soul become. So blinding his ambition.”
“What happened?” Thalia asked.
The mists reformed to show a familiar wall with a hulking horned shape outside. A miniature satyr materialized behind it. “He found me garden. His time in the Everfree had taught him not only to be brutally strong, but cunning. He passed me test and earned the right tae enter me garden. My garden.” Azeez shuddered. “He was a bad un, he was. And every step he took darkened our home. His essence was so pungent it tainted the very ground he trod. I think that’s what started the bridge tae wastin’ now that I look back on it. Everything he touched seemed to writhe, wither, then die. Weeds sprung up in their place. You have no idea the amount of time and effort it took tae expunge that influence.
“Still, I honored the contract. He’d followed the rules and kept tae the path. I’ll never forget what happened after. He stated his terms, but the tree stayed perfectly still.” He shuddered as the mist changed color. “I watched as the bark, the leaves, every part of this tree turned black as midnight. Screams and shrieks cried on the winds followed by wicked laughter. And slowly, ever so slowly, a fruit came tae be, shrouded in black mist, beating like a heart. The monster cried aloud in victory and ate the fruit, savoring the juices as they flowed down his cheeks like blood. I watched as his essence left him. A tiny shred of red cloud entered the tree’s leaves while the rest separated and engulfed the creature. He bellowed as he grew into a true behemoth, laughing all the while like the maniac he was.” Azeez shook his head sadly.
“The cursed fool. He moved to strike the tree, seeking to steal all of its essence. But he was too late. The black shell was breaking. And with the sound of shattering glass, the three shone white as the pure fallen snow, shedding its dark skin and blowing the creature back. Its pure essence dwarfed the power the dark one had gained as the very roots on which we now stand surged up from the ground and seized him. They pressed and squeezed until at last, they opened to reveal a great black pit, pulsing with red lines like veins.” The image of the tree flared white as the mist lightened while more mist wrapped around the black creature. The darkness was pressed to form a dense ball of compressed black gas before it shot off like a shooting star. “The tree flung it as far as she could. But it could nae leave the garden. The pact had been made and he was protected. Instead, the seed landed by a cool river at one of the many flood gates that surround our home.”
“Wait a minute. You don’t mean to say …”
“Aye, aye. The tree that ye faced, the one from which Big Guns had eaten, was drawn to even, were the twisted remains of the monster of whom I spoke,” Azeez said, waving his hand as the mist dispersed and the sun returned. “When you ate the fruit from the tree, ye imbibed what little good essence remained from that warrior, Big Guns. But it wasn’t enough for ye. The essence was enough to bolster ye, make ye stronger, but the tree could nae take much in return. Not yet. Inevitably, ye were drawn tae what the warrior had become to fulfill his twisted plans. And ye were snared as he’d hoped, consuming his corrupted essence tae replace the old. He fed on it, relished it as he consumed the old you while he fed the invincible warrior he wished to make you. His champion. His servant. His slave. Were it not for Thalia, he would have succeeded. She proved the more cunning, and the more valiant, ridding the garden of a terrible evil, and ensuring your contract stand fulfilled with the tree in one blow. The essence the creature had managed to harvest and siphon from the waters, passers by, and from the tree itself, returned to its rightful place,” he said as he tapped against some creeper vines. They immediately fell from the root and into his hands.
“These were how he intended to take over. By slowly choking the tree to death he would ensure his own rise to power. In killing him, ye’ve saved the Tree of Essence, ye’ve saved me garden, ye’ve saved me, and most importantly, ye’ve saved our home.” Azeez glared at the tendrils before they burst into green flames and dropped to the ground. “Big Guns, ye now have the strength ye desired, but ye’ve kept the most important part of yer essence to yourself; yer heart. The tree wishes ye tae keep that as thanks for what ye’ve done, along with the other gifts she’s given you.” Big guns motioned to his new weapons with a questioning look. “Aye, those. They were placed in our care long ago. It’s time they served someone with the proper strength,” Azeez said, winking. Big Guns blushed while Thalia eyed the satyr quizzically.
“As for you, Thalia, yer unique skills and traits gave ye the edge to overcome temptation. Ye were mislead, but in so doing, were granted a great boon and a second chance at what ye seek. But is what ye be seekin’ what ye want most? We’ll soon see.” Azeez bowed and motioned up towards the trunk. “She’s waitin’ for ye. Good luck, lassie. You’re a little rough around the edges, but I like yer spunk.”
“You’ll do great, Thalia. Don’t settle for anything less than what you want. Just think of your mother,” Big Guns said, folding his arms as he brooded at the tree. Then he smiled. “See you when you get those leaves.”
“Good luck!” Steven called as he waved, smiling. Thalia huffed and smirked as she spread her wings and took to the air.
Luna had not left the forges since an hour after declaring the ceremony the next day. The loud ringing of hammered metal filled the fortress. The only time the High Chieftess was seen or spoken to was when she came out to request silver, ebony, sapphires, moonstones, black diamonds or other such materials. Food had been brought to the door at meal times and an empty tray lay in wait for collection afterwards. Finally, the forge door opened and Luna walked out an hour before the ceremony was to commence.
Now Luna sat in her new throne, washed, and wearing her ursa armor without the helmet. A large chest sat at her side. The Lunar princess looked upon the throne room. Thestrals from across Equis had gathered together to bow before their chieftess. Stallions and mares stood in disciplined lines while the foals kept a more relaxed posture.
“My ponies, my thestrals. On this day I declare this once Fort Triumph, seat of power to the gryphons, to be Filly De Y’s!” Luna announced looking upon the gathered ponies. “It shall be our royal seat of power and we declare that a city for the thestrals shall be built around this seat. Does this please you, my little Thestrals?” A wave of sound swept the rooms of the fortress as cheers and shouts rang through the halls.
“But what is a princess without her nobility? And truly what is a royal city without those to set the example. On this day, I will appoint those who will be forever more deemed as noble blood. My honor will be yours just as my pain has been yours. And unjustly so.” Her face fell as she recalled the incident so many years ago. Then she raised her head proudly. “However, before such honors and festivities can be commenced and dispersed, we must first remember and honor those who have given us the fortress and surrounding lands on which we shall build our capital. Step forward Commander Moonkissed Pensword Hurricane and Major Lunar Fang.”
The two stepped forward dressed in their military best from the war. Stars danced behind them as their wedding cloaks flashed in the torchlight. The child was no secret now. Anypony with eyes could tell the mare was pregnant. The two tried to keep a serious expression, but they practically radiated happiness. Perhaps it was because of the glow of newlyweds. Perhaps it was the momentous occasion of this day and what it would mean for Thestral kind. Perhaps it was a combination of things. Whatever the case may have been, the two were stunning and beaming even as they approached the throne and knelt before their High Chieftess.
“Pensword, Lunar Fang, you stand now before your family, having given what is yours for them. As it is said in our laws, spoil from battle cannot be so easily taken, only traded. I require no oath of loyalty from you, for your loyalty has been tried and proven in battle many times over. I require no great act. For what can I ask that you have not already done greater? Therefore in my royal right, I wish to offer you two the title of Grand Duke and Duchess of Y’s, first amongst the Thestral houses.” As she spoke, her horn glowed and opened the chest, revealing two intricately crafted circlets made from interwoven bands of silver and ebony atop a variety of other accessories. They rose from their resting place and hovered before the two ponies. Pensword’s held a large moonstone mounted in the front while Lunar Fang’s held a great sapphire. “Will you accept the honor and responsibility I offer the two of you?” she asked.
Lunar Fang looked to her husband and Pensword looked upon the ornament. In a way this could very well prove the step beyond returning to humanity. He moved an eye to look at Lunar Fang before looking at Luna, his face turning stoic. “I feel I can speak for both myself and my wife in this. We are humbled to accept the offer.” He slowly bowed his head in respect, finally coming to peace with another part of himself. Like it or not, it was just taking too long waiting for a means to go home. He would have to accept the bed and home he had built here in Equestria. He just hoped that in the coming years he could visit to inform his family of what he had done with his life.
“Then kneel,” Luna spoke. Instantly they complied. Raising the circlets up for all to see, she placed them on their heads. “Rise commander Pensword, Grand Duke of Y’s, and Major Lunar Fang, Grand Duchess of Y’s. You may now present yourself to your fellows.”
They both turned around and stood to face the Thestral nation. Pensword saluted the with his sword, a slight smile on his muzzle as the light from his moonstone intensified. An idea formed in his head as he looked around. He would have to speak to Luna about it later. Still, here he was, seeing the Thestrals soon able to help form and push Equestrian politics in a new direction.
“Now, I will hand out the titles to the chieftains first…” and so the rest of the night would consist of Luna handing out titles beneath the radiant moonlight.
Thalia alighted at the hollow where the pool sat. A light mist rose from the waters, giving a sense of tranquility to the environs while the hollow reminded the gryphoness of a mother’s womb.
“You really are a girl, aren’t you?” Thalia murmured. The leaves rustled and the tree sighed as a wind swept through its boughs. “I don’t know if that’s supposed to be a response or not, but um … I’ve come for something my mother needs. I was told your leaves can help. Another sigh echoed followed by the moan of wind whistling through cracks. “Look, I get this might be painful for you, but I swear, I only want them to help her, not me.” Thalia heaved a heavy sigh. “Look at me. I’m talking to a tree for crying out loud.” She groaned and placed her face into her hands, dropping to the ground as she rested her front torso on her elbows.
She stayed that way for a few seconds until she felt someone tap her shoulder. She raised her head, only to see one of the reedy tendrils from the lower boughs of the tree. It was stripped bare of all save a thin layer or bark, but it bent in ways a branch shouldn’t be able to, no matter how much the wind might move it. It motioned with a come hither, shifting its edge to look much like a finger beckoning. “... o-kayyyyy … I guess I’m supposed to follow you?” The tendril dropped significantly before raising up again. It retracted, rising above the hollow to where the trunk met its parts before continuing its climb. Then it shot up into the boughs, leaving Thalia uncertain what to do next.
“Um … alright, I’m here. What did you want to do?” In answer to her question, Thalia watched as the canopy above her lit up like a Hearths Warming Tree. Mist gathered, filtering down and glowing as it entered the trunk before the gryphoness. Slowly, a shoot grew, pressing its way out as it thickened and expanded into a branch. Green shoots and leaves sprouted all along its length, glowing the same greenish silver as the rest as a sweet smelling blossom burst out on its end. In mere moments, the blossom faded, leaving behind a large silvery fruit tinged by red and black stripes shaped like scratches. As she inhaled the scent, her mind was flooded by images of battle. Enemies screamed while the traitors begged for mercy. And there, in the center of it all stood a tower of controlled fury and fluid grace. The gryphon cried aloud with a piercing shriek as blood speckled her feathers. Another head decapitated. A metal feather glinted in the afternoon sun as she continued to attack, slaying left and right.
“Know the father …” A voice whispered in her ear as she watched. Thalia started as she finally recognized the gryphoness for who she was. Thalia the battle born laid waste to to her enemies with no mercy, revelling in revenge. She shuddered. Could this be what her father was like? Would he kill like this with no restraint? What was it like? Was it enjoyable? Something inside of her whispered, yearned even, to find out. Almost against her will, her taloned hand reached for the fruit, ready to pluck, ready to eat … ready to kill. Her eyes glowed red a moment, flickering back and forth as her hand trembled.
“Or save the mother.” A sharp cry echoed across the battlefield, shattering the image as Kalima shot to the forefront. Her leg had gone from bad to worse. Infection had spread to the paw, covering it in abscesses and gangrene. Her fur had long since fallen off along her side and hamstrings. She trembled in pain, staring into the nothingness as Nurse Redheart worked applying medical compresses and administering pain medication.
“Thalia …” Kalima sighed, tensed, gurgled, then let loose a sickening rattle. Thalia’s blood ran cold.
“... Choose.” The voice echoed again and again, whispering through the leaves. Or was it merely her imagination? The vision closed and Thalia opened her eyes, darting between the fruit and the leaves. The fruit promised power, strength, and unbeatable prowess in the field of battle. The leaves promised the power to save the one person she had left to love in the world. The fruit would give her knowledge of her father. But it would cost her her mother. What should she choose?
Letting loose a cry, she slashed at the fruit and sent it flying as juices bled and ran dry. An angry shriek filled the air as it withered and died, dissipating into a silvery grey mist. “... well done.” Thalia jumped. This time the voice was male, deeper and more masculine. A golden chain dropped over her neck. A large gold talon embossed with silver dangled before her crest. Taking it in her talons, she held it to the light and gazed on it, confused. “A golden talon? What’s this doing here?” No voice replied. Shrugging her shoulders, Thalia placed the trinket in her side bag for now, carefully securing the pocket so it would not fall out later. She then withdrew the wooden container Zecora had provided for her and began to pluck the leaves, breaking them off the branch with her talons before gently depositing them into the container. When she had stripped the limb bare, she turned and prepared to leave, but stopped mid flap.
“I don’t know if you understand me, or hear me, or what. … But thanks.” With that, she launched herself into the air and soared to her friends. She smirked, this time a little more happily. Friends. She liked that.
Nurse Redheart sat humming to herself in the hospital when the door burst violently open. “Excuse me, visiting hours are- oh. Thalia, it’s you.” The gryphoness came rushing in, holding the wooden container aloft. A large, imposing minotaur clopped in behind her, his arms folded over his muscled chest as he stared the nurse down. “And who is this?”
“No time to explain. I got the ingredients. Where’s Zecora? I checked at her hut. She’s not there.”
“Up at your mother’s … room.” Nurse Redheart deadpanned. All that remained of Thalia was a cloud of dust as she dashed down the hall and literally flew up the stairs. Moments later, the door to the primary care room burst open. Thalia was panting as she screeched to a halt. Kalima lay in a deep sleep, her breathing shallow. The leg had become as horrible as she had seen in her vision. Black skin grew up and down the limb in a cankerous sore, oozing puss and other fluids. The stink was horrendous. Zecora sat on her staff, her cloak hanging on a nearby chair with her saddlebag of remedies and treatments.
“You’ve come, that is good. I am prepared. We have not a moment to be spared.” She hopped down from her staff gracefully as it twirled in the air before she caught it with a hoof and lowered it gently. “I’ll go to work with all possible speed. But first things first. Do you have what I need?”
“Here!” Thalia said, shoving the box into the pony’s hooves. Zecora opened the box and smiled at the glow within. “You chose right. You passed the test. Your part is done. Let me do the rest.” She smiled mischievously as she closed the lid and placed the container into a pocket in her saddlebag. Then she withdrew a small vial filled with a clear liquid.
“But … but …” Thalia said, not understanding.
“No potion nor salve could ever succeed. The leg was far too atrophied. But one last resort I had prepared, that your mother’s life might be spared.”
“Then you had me go on a dangerous quest, nearly get killed, tossed around by a sea serpent, half drowned, and almost corrupted into a servant of chaos, all for some box of leaves that don’t even matter?” Thalia asked, her voice slowly raising to a crescendo.
“Those leaves are very vital to me. I always use them in my tea. The essence makes me feel alive and helps these weary bones revive. But there was still more reason yet. This water cannot simply be let. Their healing powers must be earned with tests and lessons that must be learned. You’ve grown so much. That I can see. We’ll talk of it later over a cup of tea.” With that, Zecora took a pipette from a drawer nearby and dipped it into the vial. Without a word, she compressed the bag, pushing out the air before letting the vacuum do its work and suck up some of the liquid. She dropped the substance in key points on the leg, then sprayed it onto some clean bandages before wrapping the flesh. Lastly, she forced Kalima’s beak open and squirted three doses into her mouth and down her throat. A light golden glow emanated from the bandages. When she had finished, the bells in town hall began to toll.
“By the sounding of this chime, the leg should improve in three hours time. Give then at least three days more, to ensure that all has been fully restored.” Zecora carefully returned the vial to her saddlebag and added the pipette for good measure. Donning her cloak and saddlebag, she nodded as her eyes glowed yellow beneath the hood’s shadow, then smiled knowingly as she left. “I’ll leave you alone. She has waited for you. There will be much to say and much more to do. Prepare yourself.” With that, Zecora left as Thalia looked first to her mother, then back to the zebra making her way down the hall.
“This isn’t over, Zecora!” Thalia shouted after her. The Zebra just laughed.
“I know, child. I know.”
The moon shone in the night sky as ten Thestrals flew in formation over Northeast Ponyville. Two more pulled a sky chariot where Pensword and Lunar fang rested, surrounded by boxes and bundles. Pensword looked to the stars and smiled as the moon shone on his mane. Slowly, he leaned his head against his wife’s neck. His eyes roamed over the cloud bank northwest of Canterlot Mountain. He knew they would be safe now; they were deep in Equestrian territory. He sighed at the lovely night then furrowed his brow as he looked over the cloud again. Something about them was off, but he couldn’t put his wing on the problem.
“Dear,” Lunar Fang yawned with a small niker of contentment. “It’s going to be so nice to see New Unity again.” She stretched her wings and laughed. “I must say, of all that I taught you about Thestrals, I never let myself so much as dream about teaching you the traditions for married life,” She said, her eyes twinkling mischievously.
Pensword smiled and opened his mouth when a sharp whistle cut him off. A shaft of wood whizzed over their heads, continuing its deadly arc for a good five feet more before it began to fall. Pensword immediately sprang to full alert, using his senses to pinpoint the shaft’s origin even as he raised a protective wing over his mate.
“Drop your weapons and any money or food you're carrying to the ground!” a voice called out.
“Unable to comply,” Pensword said, his expression placid. “It is a tad difficult to throw our things to the ground when we are airborne.” Pensword extended his other wing to the skies around them as the escort fell into battle formation. His flat expression broke into a smirk. The irony of the demand was not lost on him, nor on Matthew. Casually, Pensword moved his head and ears, listening for the sound of wingbeats to locate the assailant. Another shaft flew from the opposite direction, grazing his foreleg.
“It wasn’t a request,” a new voice growled.
Pensword glared at his men. They looked back, their expressions grim. They were not prepared for a battle. They knew what might happen. “Banditry will not be tolerated. Princess Luna shall be informed and you will be hunted down. Do yourselves a favor. Give up now.” A lone silhouette caught his eye as it flitted into the clouds. The flash of a golden tail gleamed in the silver light. “Gryphons,” he hissed. Before he could issue an order the flash of metal flew by as a large wooden shaft crashed through the tongue of the chariot, causing it to enter freefall. Pensword and Lunar Fang quickly took to the air, grabbing their weapons. His eyes glinted angrily. “You just attacked a diplomatic escort with unborn children. You shall stand down, or I will retaliate. This is your last warning.”
“Go for the mare. Taking her will make them surrender!” another voice crowed as the gryphons attacked. Some bore a familiar red banner with a black feather. Pensword growled and let out a bellow that would make a manticore flinch. He dove viciously, attacking the poorly armored underbelly of the nearest gryphon where patches of fur and feather poked through its incomplete chainmail. Blood and entrails trailed as the gryphon fell. Pensword lost his dagger, catching it on the ribcage, but the Gryphon was dead. He rose to the air and withdrew a new invention Luna had started to implement.
Clenching an envelope in his hoof, the sound of breaking glass could be heard. The letter soon caught fire before shooting itself up and exploding in the clear sky, releasing a red burst of bottled magic before he dove once again. “Triumph Squad! Form up around Lieutenant Commander Lunar Fang!” He bellowed as he corkscrewed around a trio of attacking Gryphons. He eyed the ground below, taking note of the various positions of enemy archers as a volley of arrows flew up at them. The ponies skillfully dodged as they glared at their attackers, swords at the ready while the gryphons pressed the advantage. Moving quickly, Pensword jerked with his teeth, tearing the oil cloths from his wing blades as they extended with a metallic ring. The time for talking had passed. It was time to add some more feathers to his pillow.
Lunar Fang soon found herself surrounded by the enemy. They were not harming her yet, but their aerial maneuvering was gradually forcing her to the ground, giving no quarter for escape. Clearly, they had performed raids like this before. “You do realize my mate will never surrender. He is Pensword.” Her ear twitched and she smirked at her adversaries. “And you all are dead.”
“First volley, aim your shots and loose!” a familiar voice barked from the ground as several large shafts shot up. This time, the shots found their marks in gryphon flesh as they pierced the armor of Lunar Fang’s attackers. The raiders fell like stones. “Second volley take out the higher targets. Aim …. and loose!” Dark Blue feathered shafts with silver tips whistled in the moonlight to the metallic clank of a crossbow as it releases.
The other Thestrals were holding their own, but three had fallen, spiraling to the ground. They were injured, but still alive. Pensword lost sight of the as they crashed into the treetops. A gryphon with a frustrated and panicked expression launched a skilled shot, narrowly missing Lunar Fang. His fate was sealed.
“YOU SHALL NOT HARM HER!” Pensword bellowed as he dove down into the fray, wing blades at the ready. Falling with the speed of a falcon in full pursuit, he sliced through the attacker’s left wing and watched as she fell to the ground. He turned and roared. “I AM COMMANDER PENSWORD OF THE THIRD GRYPHON WAR! YOU SHALL SURRENDER OR DIE!” he growled as he locked eyes with the enemy flag bearer, his rage fueled even further by his memories of the massacre so long ago under that standard.
He heard the sound of grinding metal behind him and answered with an aerial spin, ready to meet blade to blade. He stared as a meaty thunk met his ears followed by the gryphon’s arm spiraling out of sight, axe still in hand. The gryphon hovered there, surprised as another familiar gryphon hovered nearby, his eyes glaring. “Big mistake,” Grif said before cleaving the would be assassin's head. The body flapped spasmodically for a few seconds before its wings seized up and it fell to join the rest of its parts in the forest below. “Well now, Pensword, I don’t know how our quarry found you, but thanks for detaining them for us.” As he spoke, another gryphon approached dressed in newly forged armor and carrying a yellow banner with a red lion on it.
Pensword yelled out. “Behind you!” as he dove headlong at the standard bearer. “We got two battalions!” He cried to his forces as he tried to figure out how to survive this battle without hurting Lunar Fang. The way things were going, he might wind up having a face to face conversation with his adopted father sooner than he had expected.
Grif just managed to grab his friend’s backplate and pull him back. “Hold on there, commander. Look at the chest plate.” Grif pointed to the near traumatized gryphon’s armor, shoving Pensword’s muzzle into it for a closer look. There on the armor, the symbol of two feather shaped blades had been carefully engraved. The commander immediately relaxed his stance, his expression sheepish. “Report,” Grif said.
“They had this ambush well planned. We caught three squads stationed to the south waiting to charge. No deaths yet, but we have had three casualties so far,” The gryphon said, saluting to Grif.
“Very good. Retrieve any and all downed Thestrals and get them to safety. If they won’t accept your help you have permission to knock them out. But they must survive, understand?” The gryphon nodded and sped off immediately.
“Grif, you want your clan to do well in my eyes? Get me one of those banners. They attacked me. I want those colors. Two if you can manage it, so one can go to your clan to display with pride.” He looked to his friend and smiled. “I can see you are happier,” he said, casually diving to avoid another arrow. He turned his head at the attackers and yelled. “You carry the flag of a black wing. I killed the elite black wings in my day. You hatchlings are worse than the recruits were back then!” he bellowed as he battled towards one of the standards.
“These mercenaries attacked their fellows over money a while back,” Grif explained as he casually parried an ill placed thrust.“They came to us with no food, many of them dying from lack of medicine. I guess you could say this is vengeance for my new ‘family.’”
Pensword nodded his head. “Then we shall have give no quarter. Either they sound a full retreat or die for their crimes here and now.”
“Fifty gold bits to the first gryphon who brings commander pensword the enemy’s colors!” Grif called out.
Pensword looked to his friend with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. “Sixty bits for the Gryphon who presents Clan Leader Grif with his own set of enemy colors for the clan hall!”
A little over an hour later, the battle had finally ended. Mercifully, the Thestrals and the Blade Feathers hadn’t suffered any deaths. A few severe injuries had been noted and the fallen were being laid on slings in preparation for travel.
“And here I was thinking you wouldn’t have made it back before the big day.” Grif smiled as he gave Lunar Fang a hug, the enemy banner still wadded up in one taloned hand. “They didn’t get you, did they?”
“Just a scratch on my cheek. Nothing serious. But I think you should should go talk to your friend. Pensword’s worrying himself sick over my health. I feel fine. A little shaky from the rush of the battle, but Thestrals have been known to fight in this stage of pregnancy before. It’s no cause for alarm” She smiled as she lay on her bed in the castle. “Did you hear what Pensword is doing for our first born? He’s going to incorporate that black feather from our attackers into her personal crest.” She said, beaming at the gryphon. “So, you got a place of honor for your enemy colors?”
“The compound is nearly finished.” Grif said as he smiled back. “It’s a project that keeps the gryphons out of New Unity so the Gryphon Slayers don’t go bald from uneasiness.” Grif chuckled as the image passed through his mind. “Honestly, I’m surprised you both took everything so well.”
“You forget that I came from this time period first. Gryphon merchs are okay by me. But Pensword, my dear, dear Pensword. ... He’s in our war room making plans in case the Gryphons turn on him. He’s more than a little concerned how the Gryphons would see him. You’re the boogeyman to them, whatever that means. And he says it should be enough. But honestly, I think he could molt some of his feathers if he’s not careful. He needs someone close to help calm him down. And after that battle, I’m just not the one for the job.”
Grif nodded and hummed. “I’ll go try and reassure him then. If you need anything, there’s always someone nearby.” Grif nodded in farewell before closing the door and making a beeline for the war room.
Grif didn’t even need to knock. The door stood ajar, showing a large table where a very disheveled Pensword was pouring over a new model of the map he had used during the Third Gryphon war. New magic meant new controls. It was a blast, or so he had said, to relearn the tools and information. More details, more stats, more safety. But the pony Grif saw now didn’t look too excited. Pensword poured over the map, squinting at the census records that now hovered in front of him showing all the Mercenary Gryphons in Equestria.
“So many are guards for Nobility. Or bouncers,” Pensword mumbled as he shook his head. “The Golden Torch are contracted to be bouncers for every high end bar in Manehatten.” He shook his head again. “This could turn bad if some black tips were to buy them off,” he muttered before his ear twitched. He turned, looking up at Grif. He looked even worse from the front. Bags weighed heavily under his eyes and his feathers were all askew as stray hairs from his mane drifted in front of his face. “Hello,” he said, his voice sounding raspy and strained. Clearly he had neither eaten, drank, nor slept since their encounter in the forest.
“What did I do to lose your faith?” Grif asked plainly as he walked in. “Tell me and I’ll do whatever it takes to gain it back.”
Pensword looked up and let out a tired sigh. “Too many Gryphons too fast.” he admitted. “Something out of your control. You did the right thing. But for me, at this moment in time, I cannot help but see it every time I look in their eyes, hear their voices clicking from their beaks. I see Mountainside Falls.” His bloodshot eyes watered as he turned to trot to the window. “You did the right thing. And you do need the clout. I am just worried about the others factions. I know you are their clan leader and Gryphon honor, if it is intact, would state that they should follow you into Tartarus itself if you commanded it. However, there are other merch bands out there. Ones that you can’t control. Like the Black Wings, or the Golden Torches, just to name a few. They are the unknowns. And some have easy access to high profile citizens.” He took a shaky breath and turned to face his friend again. “You have not lost my faith. You never could,” he said, smiling sadly.
“Well, for starters, your mapping this wrong,” Grif said casually. “I sent out a message for any and all clanless who would join me. I’ve already received assurances that these,” he said, knocking down three Golden Torches from the map. “Will be joining me as soon as their contracts are up for negotiation. Furthermore, the Golden Torches as a whole share no love for the Empire and stand ready to meet them if I send for them.” He looked grimly at the black feathers. “And their social structure is currently in flux. They’re hardly organized enough to be a threat to anyone within the next two years.”
Pensword sighed. “I need you, Grif. I couldn’t have realized this without you.” He looked to his friend with a wan smile. “What do the Gryphons say about Pensword? I read in one book that I was called a Demon. I, I do not want to jeopardize your work here.”
“Some call you a monster,” Grif admitted, shrugging. “The butcher, the blood bathed, the pony who brings painful death on the winds.” Pensword seemed to grow smaller with each new title. “But, still more see you as an epitome of shame. Not shame to you, but for what was done to you and yours. The clanless have had over a millennia to look at history and many are seeing it for what they did. Several of these gryphons are from bloodlines who went into self imposed exile for their crimes.”
Pensword nodded his head slowly. “It will take time, Grif. I have not had a millennia to heal. I haven’t even had so much as a year. To me, the wounds, the war, the death. It is all so fresh.” He looked to the window and the moon shining in the doorless arch. He sighed again. “Let me repeat myself at the risk of sounding redundant. You have not lost my faith. If anything, I fear I might be the danger to progress here.” His breath caught, almost breaking into a sob. “I … I had better go see the docs. I might have hurt myself during that battle. Would ... would you be willing to accompany me?”
“Of course.” Grif smiled. “No matter what happens, remember you can come to me. And secondly, remember that I have everything under control, alright?” Grif asked, smirking at his old friend with a sideways glance.
“I pray to Faust that that remains true for the future. I have a child who is to be born, and I need her Godfather to protect him or her if I go crazy. I cannot even project what a civil war might cause,” Pensword muttered as he slowly clip clopped towards the infirmary. Both picked up on the sound of hooves clip clopping their way down the hall towards them. But who would be awake at this time of night? They tensed, ready for the worst as a figure walked out of the shadows.
“Pensword, Grif. Glad to see you’re both fine.” Hammer said as he stepped into the light of a torch in its embrasure.
Pensword smiled and rushed to meet his friend with a hug. “Hammer Strike! Boy are you a sight for sore eyes. How have you been? I hope things were boring while I dealt with some Thestral things. Some of the Dream Clan is actually going to be setting up a camp here as well.” He paused. “Uh, did we get that last group of cadets yet?” he asked, suddenly remembering their original plans.
“I’m not sure. Been stuck in my study for awhile with a nice pile of letters and documents that required my attention.” He shrugged. “Not when I last checked though.”
“Oh boy, that is going to be something to see when they show up. At least we are here and not in Ponyville. And now we have the road in place. How are the outposts coming along?”
“Progress is going from what I remember, but our main priority is still set on finishing New Unity so it can be secure.”
“Understood. I heard that the Clan Hall is going to Grif’s Clan, so that is good news. Still, it is good to be back home.” Pensword paused as he looked to Hammer Strike. “Uh, there is some news you might not like,” he said, shuffling a hoof. “Lunar Fang and I are Grand Duchess and Grand Duke of Filly De Y’s. He tried to smile a little. “Seems we will both be sitting in the royal chambers next time we have a session called.”
“And the thing that I won’t like is...?”
“Well, uh, the Constitution, and articles of nobility?” he whispered in English. “Then again,” He said, switching back to Equestrian. “We have started to make a home here. Still… I am nobility. I have power and authority that just outright scares me. Then again again, I suppose you feel the same way?”
“Hammer Strike could send Celestia and Luna to their rooms,” Grif pointed out, laughing.
Pensword snorted behind a wing. “He did that a little with Princess Celestia and the weapon training he put her through, didn’t he?”
Hammer Strike simply shrugged in response. “That’s about right.”
“Uh, I had a thought. You do not think Luna is trying to put us into nobility to try and change Equestria do you? Also, how… much has she learned about Earth technology from us? I know she knows about Nuclear powered subs.” They were in a secluded section of the castle so he figured they could speak candidly. “Along with missiles and a few other things.”
“Considering all of us know limits to advances, I doubt it will be over the top,” Hammer replied.
“I can’t help but feel something big’s still on the horizon,” Grif said. “Like we’re still only at the edge of the pit and we haven’t even started our descent yet.”
“Considering we’re still young, at least physically, yeah. We still have plenty to do,” Hammer replied.
“I hope it is a path down into the pit and not a free-fall,” Pensword muttered.
“You shouldn’t complain. You have wings.” Hammer smirked.
Pensword paused with a deadpan expression. “Touche.”
“Used it up for the month already?” Grif laughed.
“I’m sure I can use some in advance.” Hammer shrugged.
“Very true.” Pensword paused and looked up at the ceiling and cracked stones. “Well, anything else I missed hearing about?”
“Not that I can remember off the top of my head.”
“Okay, I shall look forward to getting back.” he paused. “Where are the Gryphon Slayers, by the way? I hope they were smart enough to bug out for a while till the Gryphons settled in.”
“Out and about in the forest looking for old locations,” Hammer Strike replied.
“That sounds good.” Pensword said as they reached a branching hallway. “I am going to see the docs. Get checked up after that battle. ... I might be sleeping there tonight. Tell Lunar Fang for me, won’t you?”
“Got it,” Grif said with a brave salute. “But first, let’s get you there in one piece, eh? I’d rather not lose one of my best friends after surviving a war together,” he said, smirking. The halls were soon filled with laughter as the three friends walked together into the darkness.
Grif sighed deeply as he sat behind his make shift desk. Thalia’s mother was thankfully recovering well. Magic potion or no, it would be a good few days before she was on her feet again. Still, Grif had been somewhat tense about the conversation he was about to have. Thalia had seen her mother wearing his colors and his symbol. There were a hundred different ways she could have taken the sight. Very few of them were positive. He patiently waited for the knock.
Surprisingly, that’s exactly what he got. There were no shrieks of pain, no battle cries, no steel on steel, and no insults yelled at the top of her lungs. All that came was a simple “Can I come in?”
“Please,” Grif said, gesturing to the seat in front of his desk.
“You wished to see me?” Thalia asked, noting the two notches embedded in the wood with a quizzical look.
“To start: when we first met I was…. inexcusably short with you.” Grif sighed. “And I’d like to extend my apologies.”
Thalia stared at Grif, her expression one of shock. Then she snapped out of it. “What are you, stupid? I was the short one. I tried to take your life. Twice. If anyone should be apologizing here, it’s me.”
“You overestimate your stand in the situation,” Grif said with a hint of a smile. “I was never in any real danger from you. I’ve fought more skilled warriors with less on my person before. My father brought me up in the old ways of combat. Though that’s not to say you’re an unskilled fighter.” Grif smiled. “But how about we simply put the matter to rest and start over?”
Thalia considered the gryphon for a moment, eying his muscled frame as she recalled the skill and prowess he had demonstrated, as well as the animosity. It was almost as if he embodied the very best and worst elements of the Gryphon race all in one. Was this what it meant to be a battle born? “A generous offer. I would be a fool not to accept.” Thalia smirked as she sat back on her chair, a playful glint in her eye.
“Now I’m sure you’ve already noticed your mother as well as a good number of your allies currently wear my colors,” Grif said. “So go ahead, say what you will. Vent, accuse. No harm will come to you for your actions here.”
“I didn’t come here to do anything so foolish. I did enough of that with your friend, Zecora. And even then it wasn’t much. Let’s just say that Zebra is a great deal wiser than some may think at first glance. Things aren’t always what they seem. That is one of the many lessons I learned on that little quest. I have considered your offer rather carefully with the others and with my own mother. She trusts you. And you command the loyalty of many a pony as well as gryphons. That is no easy task. It bespeaks the honor of their leader. We have wandered from land to land and place to place, eeking out a miserable existence, more often than not dying in the process. You offer our people a chance to reclaim what, for many of us, was wrongfully taken. We’re already at odds with the empire. So why not join the greatest thorn in those puffed up canaries’ sides and kill two birds with one stone?”
“Well, I am that,” he said, laughing loudly. “Except maybe for Luna. They still shake when they talk to her. But understand, I don’t want you walking around this fortress as my underling,” Grif said, sitting back.
Thalia eyed him warily. “And just what exactly do you intent to do with my service should I truly accept your offer?
“Service ... service is probably the wrong term.” He shook a little. “While you were away your mother and I have talked a great deal. She has told me a little about her life, and plans to continue as well. She would have told more, but her leg would not allow. And she has since insisted you be present to hear the rest. She has shared with me wisdom of our people, for what wisdom there was, and she has helped my fiancè in preparing for a wedding that is at least somewhat in line with our culture. She will be joining the Bladefathers as a wise one; an elder who holds as much authority as though she were my own mother. As such, I would like you to join the blade feathers as my equal ... my sister. That is, if you would agree to that.”
Thalia looked at Grif, confused. Why would he make such a gracious offer? What could be his intent? DId he wish to help keep her pride intact? Was he insulting her? Was he sincere? “... I’ll need some time to think about it,” she said at last, breaking the silence that hung over the air.
“I can respect that.” Grif nodded. “The fort is open to you. Get some food and some rest after your journey. You can visit the armory or one of the smiths to get a proper weapon. Your father’s axes seem as though they are ready for retirement,” he said, noting the condition of the blades and the deterioration of the handles. “And I’d hate to see you lose something with such value to you as well as your mother.”
Thalia nodded grimly and rose from the floor. “My thanks. I should have my decision for you by the time our contract is ended.”
“Tomorrow evening, then.” Grif smiled. “Now I must head out myself. Shrial has been asking me to go over colors ‘cause apparently dying the pinion feathers a week before the wedding is traditional. Not sure how you dye black, but I’m sure she’ll have a way.”
“Until tomorrow then,” Thalia said as she made her way out of the office. “And um … tell your fiance that I’m sorry for what I said earlier. She is clearly skilled with the bow, and her love for you is fierce. You won’t find a mate like her just anywhere. Make sure to take good care of her.”
“I know that much. Took a massive war for me to find her, and at that time she was amongst the enemy.” Grif rose to his feet and headed for the door as well. “At the time she was meeker than a mouse. It was horrible what the empire did to females back then.”
“You know, Grif, I think I can finally see why so many girls would sell their souls to be your mate. Such courtesy and chivalry is a rare thing to find in today’s world.” With that, Thalia left, strolling down the corridor as she pondered her choice.
Pensword paused in the middle of the courtyard, his teeth on edge. For a moment he wanted to go back, grab his armor, pull out his sword, and start fighting. He managed to reign in the impulse at the last moment, taking a deep breath. He didn’t like being on edge, but it was just so hard to relax with all these gryphons around. It had been a few days since the ambush and he had half a mind to start hunting down the stragglers, just to teach them a lesson. However, doing so would take him away from the construction and from his life mate. He couldn’t risk anything happening to her when the baby was this close to being born.
He had all of a second or two of warning before all Tartarus broke loose. A cacophony of sound and squawks erupted around him as hiding places were vacated. He was literally surrounded on all sides as a wall of Gryphons climbed one on top of the other to try and get a look at him as a cacophony of questions assaulted his ears. Pensword froze for all of a second before shifting immediately to a defensive stance. “Stay back,” he cried, more than a little nervous. “Please… please, one at a time. One at a time.” He could feel the panic and anger welling up inside him as he flashed back to the night he lost his family. The healing may have begun, but the scars still ran deep. He trembled where he stood, trying to maintain his calm.
“Are you really the commander Pensword? The same Pensword who breached Fort Triumph and claimed it without casualties?” one of the younger gryphons asked, his white crest was just starting to show signs of plumage as golden primaries speckled the edges.
Silence. Sweet, blissful silence filled the courtyard. The youngling’s question had quieted all others as row upon row of wide eyes stared. It seemed as if the castle itself were holding its breath, awaiting his answer. Pensword swallowed, darting his eyes back and forth as the cubs continued to stare. In a sense, they reminded him of the CMC and the other foals when story time had come round. Using that image to bolster him, he took a calming breath, then answered. “Yes. I took Fort Triumph. I am the one who breached its walls and claimed it.”
“What was the war like?” another one asked. This child had a full coat of purple feathers complimenting a deep blue crest.
“Brutal. The events that took place then are something that cannot be told to you just yet. I know it has been said before, but when you have grown older and wiser in the art of war I will be willing to say more.”
“Why do you have fangs?” Another voice asked. Pensword could not even tell where they were coming from anymore as more gryphons continued to gather round. Parents giggled as they watched from afar while the little ones continued their surprise attack interview. It wasn’t every day you could catch the mighty commander of Equestria’s forces off guard.
“Because I am half Thestral,” He replied. “What? You thought I was a pure blooded Pegasus?” He asked them in return with a light chuckle. Maybe these gryphons weren’t so bad after all.
“My mamma said you fought hard because you were hurting. She didn’t look too happy when she said it.” a particularly young cub said, confusion clearly written on her face. “Where did you get hurt?”
“Your mother is a wise Gryphoness,” Pensword muttered. This question had caught him unawares. He paused a moment, looking to the sky as a tear streamed down his cheek. “... I got hurt here,” He said, putting a hoof to his head. “And here.” He placed the hoof over his heart. “Black Tips.” The gryphons cringed at the name. Some grimaced. Others looked upset. Some adults held their heads down in shame. The reaction itself had a bit of a positive impact on the mournful pegasus. This was good. It seemed the children knew, at least to an extent, how cruel the Black Tips could be. He would have to change the story a little, make it a small white lie instead. He did not wish to hurt these children. “They’ve faced enough of that already,” Matthew’s voice echoed in his brain.
“They did something that I am still struggling to forgive. I fought because my own sense of honor demanded retribution.” He slowly sat down. “Part of that retribution involved the capture of Fort Triumph.”
“My dad said if Gryphons had any sense they would have gotten rid of the empire long ago,” another piped up. “He said it makes us weak.”
“Then who would lead you?” He asked. “Getting rid of something is good when it is a hinderance and is causing harm, but what would you replace it with? Otherwise anything could fill that vacuum. And sometimes what fills the void is worse than what was there before. Remember that, little ones.” Pensword smiled. Maybe not all gryphons were so bad after all.
Hammer Strike closed the book and dropped his quill. He had just finished translating another chapter mentally and was going to write it out later. Albeit without some of the darker parts and references to cut chapters. Sighing to himself he looked over his desk, noting the small pile of official documents that required his attention. They weren’t going to be needed or another month or so. And he could always just push it until another day seeing how it bored him senseless. He pushed the pile away momentarily, then pulled it back again. But then again, it was always good to get things out of the way…
His thoughts were suddenly interrupted by someone knocking at his door. “Yes?” He called out.
“Sir,” Tower Shield said as he opened the door. “All six of the Elements have arrived in New Unity and are requesting an audience with you. Should I send them up?”
Looking back towards the pile of paperwork, Hammer Strike blinked a few times before looking back to Tower. “Sure. Send them up,” He replied, pushing the pile to the edge of his desk. It would seem that fate had intervened for him this time.
“Right away,” Tower said, saluting as he exited the room and closing the door behind him. After a few short minutes the door opened again with Blast Shield leading Twilight, Rarity, Rainbow Dash, Applejack, Pinkie, and Fluttershy into the room.
“You know, I could have sworn Tower said he would go get them,” Hammer said. Blast simply shrugged as he exited the room. A smile tugged at the edge of Hammer Strike’s lips. The were finally starting to learn.
“So, how’s it going?” Hammer asked the group as he gestured the chairs.
“Pretty unusual for an office to have so many chairs, ain’t it?” Applejack asked as they each took a seat.
Hammer shrugged. “Special occasions.”
“Well, anyway, we can see you’ve been doing a lot with the old castle lately,” Twilight said. “It looks like there’s been a lot of restoration since our last visit here.”
“A lot has gone on. But I don’t think you all came here for small talk. Especially since all of you are here in my study at once,” Hammer Strike replied, his expression turning flat as he eyed them with a brooding stare. “So what’s the reason?”
“Well…” Twilight started.
“What the hay was that with you and the princesses?” Rainbow Dash interrupted, blasting past decorum in her usual style.
“Sparring. Though in Celestia’s case, retraining,” he replied with a casual shrug.
“Don’t you think it was a little… extreme?” Rainbow asked again.
“Extreme? You’re asking me about extreme, Rainbow?” Hammer strike said with a raised eyebrow. “I used to spar with them using real weapons when they were foals. We only stopped when the other either had another task they had to do because it was going on for too long, or if the other was too exhausted.”
“Just how old are you?” Rainbow asked.
“Depends on how you look at it. In one way, I’m older than Celestia and Luna. In another way, I’m not. I’ve lost track of the years.”
“Wow. Older than Celestia and Luna? You must be a bajillion years old!” Pinkie said
“Sure. We’ll go with that,” he replied with a small grin.
“So what’s your connection with the princesses?” Twilight asked.
“I was their caretaker, though I still watch over them now.”
“When did you meet them?”
“Can’t answer that yet. You’ll have to ask them for that one.”
“So, that explains Princess Celestia in your own way of speaking, but what is this that Fancy Pants and some of my contacts in Canterlot said about you and Luna fighting an outright battle?” Rarity asked.
“Battle? That was another sparring match. We didn’t even go full out.. Otherwise we might have taken Canterlot with us.” He said, chuckling.
“Oh my.” Fluttershy epped, looking shocked at the idea of losing Canterlot. “I hope you didn’t hurt them.”
“We moved the spar out of the city. Around, I believe, ten miles away before it got too dangerous.”
“So are Grif and Pensword some ancient caretakers too, or is it just you?” Applejack asked.
“Their history, even from Celestia and Luna’s point of view, started years before the third gryphon war, in which they grew up with their families. I found them and restored their memories, then disappeared after the war towards the Crystal Empire only to be lost with it. So no. Just me, it appears.”
“That must have been strange spending all that time alone,” Applejack said.
“I spent thirty seven years inside a golem to ensure I didn’t age. Golems of that time didn’t sleep,” He replied. “I lost some of my memories, and learned so much. All to get Pensword and Grif back. Should I have to do something like that again, I will continue to work. I’ve gotten used to the silence.”
“That’s not healthy,” Twilight noted. “Going so long without sleep could seriously damage your psyche.”
“You say that as though I was perfectly fine to begin with.”
“Wait, but golems don’t carry physical injuries onto the body of the pony controlling them, so how did you get injured?” Twilight asked
“I left the golem after retrieving Pensword and Grif before the war and rested for the first time in thirty six years. After some time into the war, I was captured by a traitor to Unity and locked in a Gryphon fortress where I was tortured every day for a month,” He replied with a sigh. “That’s where the injuries mostly come from.’
“Wait,” Rainbow Dash shouted with as she took to the air. “Did you say traitor?”
“Yes.”
“Did you find them and kick their flank?” Rainbow Dash followed up looking at Hammer Strike with a glare. “Did you find out who did that and-”
“Rainbow Dash!” Applejack called out, pulling the pegasus down by her tail. “Hold your stampeding cattle off a little. You should let him answer.”
“Oh, I found him…” Hammer Strike started as he snorted, steam exiting in his breath. “Promethean Flame, House Flame. Sentenced Guilty and his noble ranking stripped, his house burned to the ground. Ironic, wouldn’t you agree?”
“Oh my,” Rarity gasped politely. “That is Ironic.”
Twilight Sparkle looked pensive. “House Flame, House Flame… I read about them at some point. Still, to think that some pony would betray Equestria. What gets me is that you are THE Hammer Strike. The only Earth Pony noble in Unity, and as some of the history books stated, favored highly by the Princesses.”
“I’m surprised you even heard of them, considering we agreed to keep his name out of history,” Hammer replied.
“Well duh she knows,” Rainbow Dash bragged. “She’s an egghead. She practically grew up in the canterlot archives.”
“As I stated, out of history,” Hammer repeated.
“To be erased from history … that must be a horrifying thought,” Rarity said soberly.
“When you do what he had done…” Hammer started before he sighed. “A long list of crimes. We’ll leave it at that.”
“What were the cakes like back then?” Pinkie Pie asked suddenly. The others looked at her strangely. “What? I wanted to see if he would answer anything we asked.”
“They were just like cakes,” he replied with a smirk.
“Very interesting,” Pinkie responded, stroking her chin.
“Well, we should be heading back.” Twilight nodded to her friends. “We need to start getting Ponyville ready for the ambassadors from Saddle Arabia.”
“Oh boy, ambassadors are always amusing,” Hammer replied sarcastically.
“Princess Celestia’s asked me to put together some entertainment for them.”
“Good luck with that.”
Epona moved slowly along the road. The last of her belongings lay stowed away in the cart behind her with Link and Zelda sleeping soundly in the back. She walked with a light step and little worry. The road had been quiet since Hammer Strike’s expedition to tame the forest. Without much thought she made her way across the fork when she accidentally brushed against a cloaked figure running in the opposite direction.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” she said, turning to the stranger.
An angry red glow shone from inside the hood as menacing eyes glared out at her. “Not as sorry as you will be,” a feminine voice growled as she continued on. When she had reached the other side of the wagon, a blue horn glowing red poked out as a red bolt of magic fired at the wagon where the two foals slept. Epona cried out, trying to unhitch herself, but there was no time.
“Link! Zelda!” She shrieked. Time suddenly seemed to slow down around her as the bolt’s speed reduced to a snail’s pace. A light golden glow sparked at the wagon’s side, pulsing as it grew stronger and stronger. Then another spark joined in, and yet another as a golden veil formed around the cart and its entrance. With a bright flash of light, three golden triangles materialized forming a shield as the barrier sprung from it. Time returned to normal as the red bolt crashed angrily into the golden barrier. There was a bright flash. Epona raised a hoof to shield her eyes from the glare. When it passed, she lowered it only to gasp. The bolt, along with the mysterious barrier, had vanished without a trace. The cloaked figure let out a frustrated growl before turning and stomping toward Ponyville, singeing the ground with every step.
Breathing heavily, Epona quickly unhitched herself and rushed to the rear of the wagon. Tearing back the flap, she looked to make sure the young ones were safe. Both slept soundly, unbothered by the strange events that had just taken place. From her point of view, Epona could not see the three golden triangles as they faded from Link’s flank, nor the strangely shaped triangle with wings extending from it on Zelda’s as it too faded. With a relieved sigh the mare hitched herself back up and hurried towards New Unity, putting as much distance as she could between herself and the mysterious cloaked figure. Hammer Strike needed to be told of this immediately.
Pensword paced the halls of Ponyville General Hospital. It had been, biologically speaking, almost ten months since he and Lunar Fang conceived their first born. Now thanks to those Black Tip imposters, she was going into labor a month early. He was worried, but if fate was as kind to him, as it was to his parents, He would soon be a father. After all, he was born two months early as a human. He paused as he looked up from the hallway. “You can come in now, Commander Pensword. Congratulations, it’s a girl.” One thing that surprised him about Equestrian birthing was that the mares did it alone, and only after the birth would the father be allowed in, most likely a holdover from equine instincts or something. He was not sure. Still, he was grinning from ear to ear as he made his way to the door. For now, the war, the deaths, the blood, all paled to utter insignificance in the face of the newborn foal he would soon be meeting for the first time. He poked his head into the room, smiling as he trotted in.
He could see Lunar Fang holding a small Thestral with closed eyes as both dozed. His daughter’s coat was a light blue grey coloration with bat wings of the same color webbing held close to her body. Her mane and tail were a glossy black, yet he could just perceive a few silver streaks cascading like a brook reflecting the moonlight. He tried to think what that meant. It had been a while since he pondered his tribe’s teachings. Silver streaks. Ah yes, that’s right. She was a Moon Tear Theastral. He recalled his grandmother’s stories about how these were children that were given to special parents. The mane and tail were streaked with the tears of the moon due how precious she held them in her sight. His grin widened as he thought about it. He knew a little more about genetics and the role they played in this outcome, but the story itself was beautiful. He sighed and looked at the room. At this moment in time, for this one second, he felt that he was right where he needed to be. This was where he belonged.
“Dear?” He started as he saw his life mate’s eyes open. She peered at him with a dreamy smile of contentment. “I forgot one of the bags. It has some important things for Thestral traditions with a new born, let alone the firstborn of your house. Can … well that is to say, you need to go back and retrieve it.”
“Consider it done, my little Thestral,” he whispered as he nuzzled her head before he repeated the action in his daughter’s mane. “We can name her then as well?”
Lunar Fang nodded with a smile that sent Pensword’s heart soaring, along with her words. “Of course, my little human.” Lunar Fang responded with a smirk. Pensword continued holding that same goofy smile. He performed a swift about face and immediately began to trot to the doors of the hospital. As soon as he was outside he took to the air and flew hard and past towards New Unity. The morning sun blazed brightly in the sky, casting a golden sheen upon his snow white mane as he raced for home.
Passing over the border of the everfree, Pensword screeched to a halt as his ear twitched. He heard a very distinct scream followed immediately by the sound of magic being cast. A bright red flash filled the skies. Then, all was silent. He spun around, his heart racing. There in the distance he could see a giant blue dome glinting in the morning sun.
“No,” he gasped. In a dash that would even give Rainbow a run for her money, Pensword rushed the dome. At the very last second, he performed a roundhouse kick, ready to buck the force right out of that field. A jarring jolt vibrated his very frame as he made impact before being flung backwards. Shaking his head to clear it, he looked back once again. He had not left so much as a scratch. A light tingling sensation ran through his frame as he pondered what to do. His fears spiked further as his mouth opened in horror. Dark clouds wee forming over and around the town, giving the impression of gloom and despair. He glared at the dome, ready to go for another round before he paused.
“Not like this,” Matthew’s voice echoed in his mind. “We need to prepare.” Pensword growled, ready to rebuke his human side until he recalled his training. As much as he hated to admit it, his human side was right. Letting out a full throated winny, he reared in the air before turning around and dashing for the castle. He needed his armor and weapons. And more importantly, he needed help. The Gryphon Slayers would be able to figure out what to do. With a final glare back and tears in his eyes, Pensword exclaimed.
“I’ll be back for you, Lunar Fang. I swear it.”
“Rook?” Grif called from his office. He had been left to some paperwork that apparently needed to be done soon. Hammer Strike should have been seeing to it, but he had vanished suddenly. And as his proxy, it had been left to Grif.
“Yes sir?” Black Rook responded, still a little shocked over the changes that had taken over Grif and Taze. It was now almost a surprise to wonder who they would see next, Human or Gryphon at the desk. He stood hovering at the doorway to the slightly more furnished office, a worried expression on his face.
“A. Has pensword returned yet? He said he’d let me know as soon as it was okay to visit Lunar Fang and the new foal. And B, why do I hear hurried hooves and clanking metal? Are we under attack?” Grif asked, hoping to Faust and the winds that chrysalis and her entire hive were outside the walls. Anything to get him away from this paperwork.
“That’s just it, sir.” Black Rook replied, hesitantly rubbing a foreleg against the other. “The Gryphon Slayers are donning full battle armor and combat gear. And they’ve taken their standard from the flag yard. But there’s no enemy in the forest, nor the air. Worse still, I haven’t seen head nor tail of Pensword yet. I’m worried though. His armor and wing blades are missing, along with Lexington, Concord, and his crossbow.”
Grif took in the details he had just been presented with military clarity. Pensword was not a pony for sudden and irrational military exercises. That was more his own thing. Nor was Pensword one to take all his weapons with him unless something was wrong. Obviously his friend was having some sort of crisis. Grif’s eyes dilated as the inevitable conclusion came. His godbaby was in danger.
“Call the rohirrim,” Grif shouted rather suddenly as he got to his feet. “Gather the family. I want every able bodied pair of talons or hooves fully armed and ready to march in fifteen minutes. Anyone late gets left behind and stuck with latrine duty for the next ten years. Do I make myself clear, captain?” Grif said.
“Sir,” He saluted with a questioning tone, hovering for a second longer.
“Now, Rook!” That was all Black Rook needed. He bolted like cerberus was on his tail and was soon out of sight, sounding the alarm as he went. A Moment Later Pensword raced past the open door as if chasing time itself. Grif caught the expression in his eyes, confirming his suspicions. In mere moments, he was airborne, racing to catch his friend.
“What is it?” he shouted. “Whose head’s going to roll?” he managed to ask, more quietly as he matched his friend’s speed in the air.
“I don’t know,” Pensword yelled as he flew out of the hallway and took to the air where the newest members of the Gryphon Slayers and the Old guard mingled forming up in the air and on the ground. “A thrice blasted dome is over the entire town like a snowglobe and storm clouds are forming inside over the city. I was to get a forgotten bag for a ceremony, so I got out of range before it fell. But now... “ He looked to the direction of Ponyville. “I shouldn’t have left. I should have gotten Derpy or somepony else to get them.” He looked around, his gaze fierce as he eyed up his men. “Full March. Our destination is the boundary of Everfree and Ponyville. If anything gets in the way, deal with it.”
“Sir!” came the collective shout as the forces mobilized, turning to face the main gate and bridge as they began their march. It was at that moment Epona entered the courtyard of New Unity. She flinched as she eyed the small army, ready for war and marching right for her. She stopped, mouth agape as they bore down on her. She trembled where she stood, uncertain what to do.
“I’m going with you,” Grif said. “I’ll throw freaking tartarus at it if that’s what’s necessary.”
Pensword smiled and nodded. “Leave your future mate behind. Heavens above knows we need one level headed warrior to protect this piece of land from attack.” He nodded to the others who were already moving. “See you at the wall. You will soon see what I mean.” Grif cocked an eyebrow as he noticed the trebuchet being hauled by a platoon of Earth Ponies. Hammer Strike had designed and built these monsters with Twilight’s help. Hopefully they would be enough to breach whatever barrier Pensword saw. As the ponies continued their advance and staging parties, they parted around Epona and her little cart, giving her the opportunity to pass through into the safety of the castle without coming to harm.
With a rumble Grif’s troops began to assemble in the courtyard next to what remained Pensword’s. The last few months of physical training was starting to show as the stallions and mares rumbled into position, their dusty armor strapped tightly. A large group of gryphons bearing the Bladefeather crest assembled in the air above them. “Everything I have is at your disposal, Pensword”
Pensword landed on the ground while all gathered around him. “Right. I want two squads of fast flyers to advance and take land for a siege camp. I don’t care if you are Gryphon or Pony right now. I need fast flyers.” He paused. “Second, all other flyers shall remain and act as air support for the ground marchers and Siege workers. No ifs ands or buts. You stay with those men. You do not go off for personal glory. You are to stay and protect the bombers.” He paused and smiled. “Siege workers, you are the bombers for this mission. That is to be your code name. Flyers, You are Speeders. Support, you are Red Tails.” He saw the looks of annoyance. Most likely from a lack of understanding. “It is a name for a group of of men who were in the minds of one of the aliens. They served for their nation and not personal glory.” He paused. “Regular fighters, you are Bricks.”
“Remember, gentlemen, there is a foal in ponyville who is my god daughter,” Grif looked at the gryphons. “That makes her family and that makes her part of this clan. Let’s show them what happens when they mess with our family.” Grif’s speech seemed to appease the annoyed gryphons. This wasn’t simply foolish support, this was personal. Grif drew his swords with a flourish. “On the commander’s order, assume your positions. Fast flyers to forward group, heavy fliers to support group.” The gryphons moved to obey, their gaze resolute. Grif gestured to the pegasus with his saber, acknowledging the order was Pensword’s.
“Tally ho!” Pensword roared as he took off. Grif soon joined him in the air. “Grif… when we get back, I am going to tell them the story of the Tuskegee Airmen. Under their protection we lost zero bombers.”
“That can wait,” Grif said. “You still need to introduce me to my goddaughter.” With that said the gryphon put on an extra burst of speed.
“You shall, you shall.” Pensword replied. “If I have my way, you shall see your goddaughter by day’s end. And, oh she is one of the most beautiful foals you ever did see.” He said, cracking a brief smile before it was gone. “Whoever is responsible for this shall feel my wrath.”
Hammer Strike paused in his writing as he looked around the room. “It got a lot quieter around here…” He muttered to himself before someone knocked on his door.
“Yes?” He called out.
“Sir,” Tower said as he walked in. “A mare named Epona is here requesting you.”
“Well, today has been full of visits…” He said aloud. “Go ahead and tell her I’ll be down shortly.”
Tower nodded as he exited the room, closing the door behind him.
Hammer Strike hummed to himself as he finished his sentence on the page and put his quill down. “Not even four paragraphs in…” He muttered as he stood up from his chair and headed out the door. When he reached the courtyard, there stood Epona, her covered cart behind her.
“Hello Epona. I hope your journey was uneventful,” He said aloud as he walked over to her.
“Most of it.” She yawned. “Something weird happened just outside Ponyville though.”
“Weird things tend to happen at Ponyville. What happened this time?”
“I accidentally brushed this mare who was heading into town and when I apologized she got all angry and tried to throw a spell at me. I guess something I had in the cart activated to stop it, but i couldn’t tell what it was. Some weird triangle thing.”
“Was it golden?”
“How did you know?”
“Oh, you know, random guess,” He replied. “Might have been a protective spell on one of the objects in the cart that you forgot had it.”
“Probably. I still haven’t catalogued everything. Anyway, what was with all the soldiers leaving?” Epona asked.
“That would explain why it suddenly got so quiet around here,” Hammer Strike muttered as he looked around. Then he shrugged. “Unsure. I wasn’t alerted to anything.”
“It looked like they took two thirds of the ponies in the fort and a good chunk of the gryphons as well.”
“I’m sure it can be dealt with without my presence. I mean, it’s not like they took the big guns.”
“... They had a trebuchet.”
Hammer Strike paused for a second. “Well, they took one of the big guns…” He said with a hum. “I’m sure they can deal with it. If they need help they’ll call for me.”
“So where can I set everything up?” Epona asked, her fears alleviated for the time being.
“Over here.” He said, pointing to a building with an open shop window. “You can work on setting up shop later. I’ll lead you towards your place of residence until we are ready to work on the districts which will contain residencies for commercial and industry. At least depending on how things go. Whenever you are ready.”
Grif charged the dome again. Over the last several hours they had rained down arrows, shot stones point blank with a trebuchet, and beaten the magic dome with every physical action they could contrive. And yet, despite their best efforts, the dome had yet to gain so much as a crack for their troubles. Black Rook and Silver Spear had taken it upon themselves to issue orders for setting up a siege camp as both their commanders relentlessly attacked the dome.
“Yes. That’s right. Destroy yourselves to amuse The Great and Powerful Trixie!” Behind the dome the blue unicorn sat on her large golden wheeless chariot smirking at the battered and beaten pegasus/thestral hybrid and his gryphon companion.
Pensword just laughed. “The Great and Powerful Trixie,” he made sure to roll the r like she did. “Does not know who she is facing. I once camped in front of a fort for three weeks. I am patient and I shall get what I want. Let’s see how long you are amused by us standing here.”
“I brought down the Gryphon evokers when I was their captive,” Grif growled as he charged again. Small wisps of wind blew around him. “Their magic couldn’t stop me and neither will this.” He brought both pommels of his new swords down as hard as he could manage onto the magical substance only to be rebounded like a rubber ball. The blue unicorn laughed louder seeing the mighty heroes of Equestria thrown about like mere play toys. Pensword moved to help his friend to his paws and talons.
“That laugh is starting to get on my nerves,” he said.
“I’m going back for the cannons,” Grif said with a fierce glare at the wicked self proclaimed ruler of Ponyville.
“I’ll stay and keep fighting. If anything, at least it should hopefully distract her from trying to do anything to you,” Pensword whispered back as he turned to the Trebuchet. “Load another boulder! Keep up those volleys! Archers, prepare a full volley as well. Unicorns, magic spells to launch. Target one spot, everypony.” He quickly moved to the dome and marked a spot near the top with a large X using some chalk he kept handy. “Let’s try this!” he yelled as he rose higher into the air. Trixie jerked a little as beads of sweat started to form.
“Come on you foals, move! Someone is trying to mess with the dome on the other side.” She smiled menacingly, her amulet glowing as red as her eyes. “Trixie, while amused, shall have to return to watch you fail in breaking through some other time. Ta-ta,” she said, laughing all the while as two smaller ponies pulled as hard as they could, gradually plowing through the dirt as they pulled the wheelless carriage along.
Grif flew off in the direction of new unity while Pensword renewed his attack. Trixie soon returned, mumbling something about beavers and their stupidity and how she would outlaw them when she had the chance as her next official proclamation. She now rode in a much larger golden wagon sans wheels. A pair of whips hovered in the air above the poor shaking ponies hitched to her wagon. Pensword’s eyes narrowed. Crimes against Ponykind would be added to her list of offenses soon enough. Letting loose a warcry, the bombardment resumed. Trixie’s laughter continued shortly after as the barrage maintained zero effect, her horn glowing all the while.
“Grif!” Hammer Strike called out. “Tell me what in the world is going on. You have taken experimental equipment and over half of the troops and I haven’t gotten so much as a note to explain.” Grif screeched to a halt, realizing his mistake and quickly moved to rectify it, cocking his head back and forth between the pony lord and the troops scrambling.
“You remember how Pensword’s foal was being born today?” Grif asked, then turned to the ponies who were swarming around the castle with a brigade of gryphons. “Take that balista too! We could use all the firepower we can get!”
“Tell me what is happening at Ponyville,” Hammer demanded, pulling Grif’s beak to face him as he stared the gryphon down.
Grif snarled, using a mocking tone of voice. “‘The Great and Powerful Trixie’ returned to ponyville with some ‘alicorn amulet’ or something like that. It’s pumped her fire power a few hundred times and currently what's keeping Pensword from Lunar Fang and the new foal is a giant dome of solid magic we’ve been battering for over six hours.”
“Then take the cannons and get it down quick. Just be sure to aim at a less habitable place. I’ve been performing some tests with them and I’d rather nopony got hurt.”
“Don’t worry. We’re at least two miles from the nearest inhabited buildings. At worst we build carrot top a new shed,” Grif said. Then he barked another order. “Four ponies to a wagon! We need to move these as fast as possible!” Grif looked to Hammerstrike. “Shrial’s in the tower if you need anything.”
“Considering she hasn’t said a thing to me in ages, I doubt we’ll have any real conversation.”
“Sorry, but not much I can do about that. Present problem first,” Grif noted as the wagons began to move.
“Just finish the job and get back. I dislike the lack of forces around here.”
“You have a manticore. I think between the two of you, you could conquer a small nation, nevermind defend one fortress,” Grif said. “Assuming all goes well I’ll be back late tonight,” he said before turning to head off.
“Have fun with that,” Hammer Strike said as he made his way back inside.
The dome was still in tact. And Lunar Fang was still trapped inside with the foal. Once more Pensword glared, attacking savagely with his wings as he uttered a guttural roar. Trixie continued to laugh, mocking him. Growling, he turned to his troops. “Return to Camp,” he ordered. “We regroup now and find out what is going on.” His tail swished in anger as he stormed away, doing his best to ignore Trixie’s laughter as she gloated over her power and supposed victory. “Foolish foal,” Pensword hissed under his voice. “Know you not that a victory is not won till the enemy routes?” He paused and turned once more to give the red eyed trixie the evil eye. “I have yet begun to fight. I shall breach that dome, and when I do, you shall have Tartarus on your doorstep.” He growled before turning around and zooming into his command tent.
“Are you alright, sir?” Silver Spear asked his commander.
“No,” Pensword growled, his eye twitching. “My life mate and daughter are in the hospital under the rule of some crazed lunatic and I am stuck out here, unable to protect them. What kind of father, husband, am I if I am not by their side to protect them? I fought and destroyed Fort Triumph, claimed Fort Lunar Fang, led and decided the movements of the armies during the Third Gryphon War. Yet I cannot break through a simple dome. And on top of that, I cannot reach High Chieftess Luna.”
“Sir, no pony was prepared for this. You’ve brought the might of an army to save them and are throwing every resource you have at it. You’re a good father and husband. We will work this out. But you need to keep calm, sir. You’re our leader and we need you right now,” Silver Spear said, trying to sound comforting.
“Thank you,” Pensword muttered, then let loose a wry smile. “And to think, a couple of months ago you were thinking of quitting due to our crazy antics. Now look at you. You have grown to be a good leader and a good teacher for those of the Gryphon Slayers who came with me from the past. Thank you. Tell me, did you ever think being in the Guard would be this interesting?” He asked, trying to make the smile a little wider. It wasn’t working, so he dropped it. Silver Spear could tell that Pensword was trying to distract himself for now, so he played along.
“In all honesty, sir, I didn’t expect my life to be this exciting. A few months ago I was some noble brat whose father had him declared unfit simply so he could say his brave son attempted to join the guard. I’d never dreamed of being here, serving the ponies I’ve met. To tell you the truth, I couldn’t imagine a better life than this, sir.”
“Well, just be sure to eventually settle down. And for Celestia’s sake, make sure to keep your options open. Who knows? You might find a nice Thestral to marry from one of the new Noble houses in Filly De Y.” Pensword said in a playful tone. Silver Spear smirked. It may have been a distraction, but it was nice to be treated more as a comrade rather than a cadet. “Still, I want a report on how our attacks are doing,” Pensword said, returning to business once again. “And if any Unicorns come our way, see if they know any magic. If we’re lucky, maybe we can overpower the dome, or at the very least get a magic user who’s competent enough to scan the dome and find a weakness.” He jumped as the earth trembled. Peeking out his tent, he saw Grif flying in with more weapons. “What? What was that?” he asked. “Did, did Trixie just let something in and out again?”
“Aparently the beavers have finally gotten to her,” Grif said. “She lifted the dome up to let them out.” He held a taloned hand up as Pensword’s mouth opened. “Already checked. It was a temporary hole. Had some men try to dig out the seam but they couldn’t find it.” Grif pointed to a hole nearby. “Cannons are here, but it will take a good hour to set them up. in the meantime I’m taking some gryphons with me. I want to test and see if attacking this dome from multiple extremes gets us anywhere.”
“Go for it. We can use more rocks, if needed, to try and help,” Pensword replied, happy at the news. He paused seeing the other troops. “Did we pull all our troops out of New Unity?” he asked with an eye twitch. Then a creepy sort of smile came over his face. “Yeah, when we are done, I am so going to put her on trial in New Unity… If Ponyville does not.” He closed his eyes, sighing happily, then frowned. “Oh fine. … Doesn’t. There, are you happy now Matthew?” he asked in a low murmur that only Grif could hear. “Doesn’t ask to put her on trial first.”
“I honestly don’t care if Ponyville decides to or not,” Grif said. “I’ll play any card I need to to get us jurisdiction. Send up a flare when the cannons are prepped,” he said, turning to his gryphons. “You four head north. You four take scout. And you three follow me to the east. Thalia’s in charge until my return,” Grif instructed. “Move out.”.
Pensword returned to look at the dome. He began to pace a little, worried. Trixie had vanished again off to the center of town. His eyes inevitably roamed towards the hospital where his life mate would be. With a look of determination, he returned to the task at hand. “Thestrals, begin mining operations. Dig down and try to probe for a weakness,” he ordered before returning to the siege camp. Something was not right. Something about the blue pony had changed, but what was it? What was so different?
Doctor Strange, a Unicorn, looked up from his desk as he had been looking over the supplies for his patients. Based on a healthy portion for everypony, by his reckoning they had enough supplies to last a good two months without worry about a shortage. He saw the door knob twist and swing open as two unicorns opened the door. Protests clearly rang down the hall after them. “Snip, Snails, what are you doing here?”
The two grinned widely as they moved to either side of the door and bowed, creating a pathway to the good doctor’s desk. “Now announcing,” Snips started.
“The Great and Powerful Trixie!” Snails finished as purple smoke billowed into the office.
Doctor Strange stood up with a flat expression on his muzzle, awaiting their guest.
Trixie walked in with an air of superiority. “Hello, doctor. The Great and Powerful Trixie has deemed it appropriate to dazzle you with her presence in hopes her beauty may inspire your patients to feel better.”
Doctor Strange blinked and frowned. “I do appreciate your kind offer, Lady Trixie. However, now might not be the best time for the patients and staff. Tomorrow morning would be a much more convenient.” He smiled, easily seeing the signs of the temper tantrum on its way. He’d treated enough patients to know how to deal with such outbursts, and waited calmly for the wave he knew would soon come crashing down. Wisely, he deicded to make the first move, preventing the power hungry unicorn attempting a rebuke. “After all,” he said placatingly. “If they see you as a bright eyed morning Unicorn, would it not be better for your subjects than if they saw you during a time that most are being given pain medication? It might mess with their minds and dilute the grandeur of your most glorious self, giving them a false impression of the marvelous beauty and leadership that is The Great and Powerful Trixie.” He knew he was walking a fine line. He had to help Rarity and a few others from the earlier coup attempt. If he could keep her out of the hospital, it would be the best.
Trixie squinted, her eyes deep in thought as her amulet continued to glow a deep red. “Hmm… Trixie supposes you have a point. Very well, doctor. Trixie shall return first thing in the morning.”
“We shall anxiously await your glorious return, oh wondrous ruler.” Doctor Strange bowed in respect. “Now, I am sure you have some other places you would like to visit that require your radiant presence.”
“Of course. But first Trixie will be sure to brighten up the place for you.” The unicorn’s horn flared an ugly red as various awards and degrees were replaced with pictures and posters in her exact likeness.
The doctor’s smile was strained as Trixie left the room. When she had finally gone he sat down and sighed. “At least they were authorized duplicates,” He muttered. Having learned the unpredictable nature of practicing in Ponyville, most doctors had taken to displaying second hand copies of their degrees and awards for fear of destruction by what had commonly come to be known as a “Ponyville Event.” He waited a few more minutes before pushing an intercom button. “Nurse Redheart, could you come into my office please?”
“Yes, doct-. what in celestia’s name happened here?” the nurse asked as the door closed behind her.
“The Great and Powerful Trixie came for a visit. She is going to come in the morning to cheer up the patients.” He put a hoof to his nose. “I only wonder what will happen when Princess Celestia and Princess Luna arrive with the Saddle Arabian delegates later tonight.” He paused and looked at Nurse Redheart directly. “What is the status on our patients? Has anypony realized what’s happened yet?”
“Lunar Fang has been trying to use military statute 724 to make us release her so she can forcibly have the dome lowered herself,” Red Heart said. “She’s been at it for hours. Fortunately, this isn’t a military hospital so the normal statutes don’t apply.”
“Have you asked her how she is going to get it to drop? Please also remind her that she has a foal to look after first. If anything will keep her bound to this hospital, it will be maternal instinct,” he said as put a hoof to his temple. “Nurse Redheart. How did you even know what seven two four says? Or did she state it verbatim?”
“She did, but I knew about it before from when Pensword was in the hospital. Well, in the waiting room anyways. He was reading them aloud.”
“Ah,” Doctor Strange replied. “Then we might have to stall. Keep her busy and talking. Anything. But at all costs, we cannot let her leave.” He closed his eyes. “I fear what Trixie might do if she meets an actual member of the military in the town, let alone a Thestral. Who knows what that amulet would do or cause her to do.”
“Not to mention we can’t let her near a newborn with how she’s treated the foals so far,” Red Heart noted.
“What do you mean?” It seemed Doctor Strange had missed some information. “What did she do?”
When she first came into town she melded Snips’ and Snail’s horns together. And later, with Twilight, she used aging spells.”
“That is most certainly not good. Has she done anything else to any of the other foals?” He asked with concern. “It seems she fixed them, at least.”
“Nothing’s been reported yet, but I’d rather not put a baby near that volatile monster,” Red Heart said vehemently.
“Very well. We’ll place the maternity ward on lockdown,” Doctor Strange said. Then he sighed. “We should pray to Faust that things work out.”
“Okay, that’s it.” Hammer Strike sighed as he put his quill down. “All night and day, and I still hear the cannon shots.”
The cannons had started thundering as soon as they had been prepared and hadn’t stopped since. It had been a very loud night for everyone as the barrage continued unbroken. El Fluffy looked at Hammer Strike questioningly.
“Rawr?” he asked.
“It’s time to lend a helping… hoof,” He said after a pause. “Fluffy, front gate,” He said as he moved away from his desk. “Still don’t even know how you fit through the door…” He muttered the side comment as he stopped himself from thinking on it. Most likely this would have something along the lines of Pinkie Pie; and that would only lead to more headaches. Instead, he occupied his mind with what he would be wearing as he headed towards his personal armory.
“Rawr.” The manticore shrugged before going back to sleep.
Hammer Strike made his way to the armory and back out in a quick fashion. He bore no armor, but rather carried some of his more recent weapons and a few other miscellaneous objects that he deemed… testable. “Tower, Blast,” He called out to the brothers as he walked past them again. “Let’s go.”
“Sir!” they responded, following dutifully behind.
Thankfully the trip through the forest had little to no interruptions as they made their way towards Ponyville. Three hours later the trio found themselves amongst the others as they continued their assault on the magic dome that surrounded the little town.
“Hammer Strike!” Grif called as he stumbled over. “Glad you could make it. We’ve made progress,” the gryphon said proudly. “A three inch crack! It took more power than I can guess, but it’s breaking.”
“Not quick enough,” Hammer replied. “I’ve brought some of my own gear to help with this,” he said, shifting some of the tools on his back.
“If anyone can get anywhere, it’ll probably be you. Hey, Pensword! Hammer Strike’s here! Give everyone some rest!” Grif shouted.
Pensword looked up from his table and glared at Grif. “I shall not rest till Lunar Fang and I are reunited.”
“And then she’ll slit my throat cause you're exhausted. Just take a minute, Pensword,” Grif sighed, shaking his head.
“Fine… Two minutes.” Pensword said gruffly as he sat down on the ground and glared at the dome. If looks were magic, he would have decimated the barrier and the whole town with it.
Hammer Strike shifted some of the tools off his back except for the first item he wanted to test, a large warhammer that he had brought with him from the war, one of his personal favorites. “Where’s a good spot to start?” He asked aloud.
Pensword pointed to a spot where the ground was scarred and torn from the assault. “How about there? You can see the ground, so it should be usable.”
“Let’s see how it goes,” Hammer replied, shifting the warhammer slightly as he walked over to the spot. Ponies immediately parted, making way for the legendary lord as they muttered amongst themselves. “Got to start somewhere, I guess,” Hammer said softly to himself as he moved the warhammer into his hooves.
Taking a deep breath, Hammer Strike raised the weapon in his hooves. In one swift motion he brought it crashing down on the dome. For a moment, all was silent as the shockwaves carried out from the hammer. Then a soft resonating tone rose from a gentle lull to a mighty ring as the ripples suddenly came flowing violently back. A crack of thunder emanated from the spot as a cloud of dust blew through the camp. Tables, chairs, and ponies alike were blown off their legs and hooves respectively. As the dust settled, tents and campfires lay in disarray while embers and papers sifted slowly down like snowfall. Thestrals and pegasi alike panted as they hovered in the air, coughing from the cloud of debris. A few feet from the dome, Hammer Strike stood, his expression blank as he looked down at his hammer. The handle was bent at a ninety degree angle, the steel glowing red at the point of impact. Blast and Tower both stared wide eyed at their Lord while the rest of the regiments gawked open mouthed. For many, this was the first time they had seen the legendary strength of Celestia’s Ghost in action.
“Well that kinda stings,” Grif said, pointing to the dome which now had several spidering cracks across it’s surface.
“Welp,” Hammer said as he tossed the warhammer aside. It fell with a massive clatter, leaving an imprint in the soft spring dirt. “That was a good test.”
Pensword was on his back with his hooves flailing a little in the air before he began to smile. “FIre at will! Fire at the cracks!” he ordered, giggling madly with excitement. Progress at last.
“Pensword, he just did several times the damage we did in one shot and we’ve been working since before noon yesterday. Maybe we should let Hammer Strike keep going for a bit longer?” Grif suggested.
Pensword rolled over to his hooves and looked around seeing the damage and frowned. “You might be right. We will have to repair the camp.” He looked at the others. “Well, don’t just stand around there. This camp is in shambles. Get those cannons returned to the proper orientation! Get the Trebuchet back upright! I want this base fixed yesterday!”
“I’m still disappointed that you both used up the experimental explosive rounds.” Hammer frowned. “I hadn’t tested them yet.”
“I thought we were using grape shot?” Grif asked, looking to Pensword for confirmation. The Pegasus nodded.
“You didn’t grab the experimental rounds?” Hammer Strike asked, pausing.
“We have explosive rounds?” Pensword asked in shock.
“You're experimenting with things that can literally unmake us. I generally stay away from your experiments. You mean to tell me there is explosive ammo?” Grif asked.
“...No…” Hammer Strike replied after a moment.
“Anyway lets stop talking about this. We got a foal and a mare to save,” Grif said.
“What about the entire town of ponies currently being held hostage?” Black Rook asked
“Semantics.” Grif rolled his eyes before turning to Hammer Strike “What's next?”
“Depends. Next tool on the list, or skip the list and go right to the extremely dangerous explosive stuff?”
“Which is going to get us in there before Pensword gives himself an aneurysm?” Grif asked.
Hammer Strike simply pulled out a small yellow crystal that radiated energy and showed it to Grif with a raised brow and a small smirk.
“Are you going to do a Mr. Torque?” Grif asked. Then he backed off as Hammer hit him with his serious stare. “Okay then … I’ll start getting everyone to move back.” He strolled over to pensword, his expression grim. “Pensword get everyone back past the tree line. Don’t worry about the cannons and stuff. That can be rebought. Everyone needs to be out of the range.”
Pensword raised a wing, ready to voice his objections before he caught site of the crystal in Hammer Strike’s hoof. “... Is that?” Grif nodded. Pensword dropped his wing and immediately began barking orders. “Fall back! Fall back! Grab your kits, gear, and anything sentimental you have and get back to the tree line on the double!” he turned to look at Grif. “Give us twenty minutes and we will be out of range.”
Twenty minutes later the camp had been broken down. The only things left were the cannons and Trebuchet. Other than that, a few stray pots and pans strewed across the ash covered field. Those could be replaced.
“Clear!” Pensword shouted after tallying up their numbers. Grif stood next to him, watching and waiting as Hammer Strike pulled the crystal from his pocket once more. A roll of tape hung on his other hoof as he prepared to make the attachment.
“Well, here goes nothing,” he said flatly as he moved to pull some of the tape off the roll. He paused a moment as his ears twitched. His brows furrowed. “... What-?” A pinprick of light slowly grew in the sky as a rumbling filled the air. The clouds parted to reveal a streak of yellow and red flame blazing towards the dome. Nanoseconds later, the ground shook, causing trees to fall as yet another loud crack filled the air. Then with the sound of shattering crystal, yet another explosion blasted outwards in a miniature blue mushroom cloud. Coughing, Pensword and Grif slowly made their way forward, not sure what they would find. As they drew closer, they could just make out the silhouette of a flapping flag. Or so they thought. There Hammer Strike stood, tape in one hoof, crystal in the other as he stared flatly where the barrier once had been. A depressed line marked where Trixie’s spell had held. Whatever that ball of fire had been, it destroyed the shield. A pillar of smoke rose up in the distance. Hammer Strike dusted off his jacket, looked to the smoke, then back to the crystal.
“Well… Darn.”
Grif leapt into action. “Unicorns, I want wards all over this place. Keep going till a mage can’t hold a tea cup in levitation a thousand years from now. You, squad, go let Twilight know the dome has been breached. The rest of you spread out and render aid, but don’t get in Trixie’s way yet. Pensword…” Grif said, drawing his scimitars. “We got a doctor’s appointment.” His keen eyes only just made out the retreating form of a pegasus with wings blades flying low over the land towards the hospital. Without a word Grif took to the air and followed after Pensword.
“And if you two fill out these forms I will personally see that any crimes she has committed against the patients here are added to the charges against her,” Grif said, handing the papers to the doctor and the nurses. “I’m sorry we couldn’t arrive sooner.”
Doctor Strange just smiled. “Not a problem. Though I have to say, I wish your friends wouldn’t race around the corridors. They’re almost as bad as Rainbow Dash is in the air,” he said, pausing as he adjusted his glasses. “Just who are they?” He asked as he signed the document.
“That’s Commander Moonkissed Pensword Hurricane,” Grif said, his tone carrying a bit of a dark note. “He’s been separated from his wife and newborn for almost 24 hours. I think he’s entitled to a little hasty action, doctor.”
“Oh…” He sighed. “Maybe now I won’t be given so many military orders from Moonshade.” He shook his head. “Did you know Nurse Redheart gave up trying to disarm her? She turned anything that she could risk into something to defend her child.” He sighed again. “Hopefully he’ll be able to talk some sense into her.”
“Doctor I have full respect that you're a doctor, and thus, an educated stallion. But you obviously have never been around parents and their children a lot, let alone Thestrals, and one of Lunas most dangerous soldiers to boot. Sir, your town was just taken by a tyrant who was volatile and known for tantrums on an incredible scale. Currently, you are lucky your hospital wasn’t turned into some sort of rebel base. I’d have given you and your nurse another hour before you lost control at the most. You see, what I’m trying to get at here, doctor, is that you are an educated stallion of medicine. And I respect that. But you will regard all three of the ponies involved with due respect or you and I will have problems.” Grif looked into the doctors eye’s with a predatory gleam. “And you do not want to have problems with me. Got it?”
“What problems?” The Doctor replied, unfazed. “Thank you for your advice, though. I’ll make sure to keep that in mind with future Thestral patients. Though hopefully we won’t have to deal with another invasion so soon.” He paused and took a moment to rise from his desk, levitating the documents as he walked round to face the gryphon. As he did so Grif caught a look of the good doctor’s cutie mark. A gold circle shone brightly, surrounding a great red gem. It reminded Grif of something semi forgotten laying just at the edges of his foggy memory. “I could have handled it,” Strange said, tapping lightly on his horn as the documents rolled themselves up and landed in Grif’s hand.
“You’re hilarious,” Grif said. “Compared to a changeling you’re about as dangerous to as a baby all swaddled in a blanket. I’ve seen what that mare is capable of, doctor. You and your hospital staff are very fortunate the dome was broken. Now I am going to go comfort my friends and hopefully meet my god daughter for the first time. You have patients who need care and a few wounded warriors from the siege weaponry who will be in within the hour. You’d best prepare.” Grif stashed the papers carefully before turning and heading after Pensword.
Doctor Strange could only smirk before he used his magic, matching his blue eyes to pick up a clipboard and clip clop away. After a while he let out a small chuckle. “I am reminded once more why I settled here. The bizarre is normal.” He entered his office, turning around. “Nurse Redheart, please tell my secretary to clear my schedule. I have some operations I will be performing later when the victorious armies arrive for healing.” He did not wait for an answer before closing the door behind him as he fully entered his office.
Grif arrived at the room just in time to see Pensword hastily packing some things that he could not get a good look at into a duffel he’d carried with him from the camp. Pensword smiled as he turned around to greet his friend.
“I am happy that took a while with the doctor. We just finished with the Thestral ceremony. Come, come meet Moon River, your new Goddaughter, and the first of the house of Pen to be born to continue the line.” he dropped his voice and switched to Draconic. “Also, the first of the line of Conner from the eldest son of my father.” Grif smiled.
“Getting a little rusty there, Pensword,” he whispered back before turning his attention to the mare and her new foal. His little godchild. Grif approached slowly and carefully, worried his appearance might frighten the newborn foal. He did his best to smile, fortunately remembering not to open his beak. “Hello there, little River.” He smiled as he held a claw out to gently brush her side. “This right here makes it all worth it.”
Moon River yawned as she opened her eyes, revealing a rose tulip red as she blinked and looked at Grif. True to the form of a curious newborn, Grif found that the child did not cry but moved a hoof out to touch the claw with a tilt of her head while making a small noise.
Pensword just smiled. “You are right, my friend. This, all we have gone through, just to reach this point, is all worth it.” He leaned in and nuzzled his daughter with a warm smile. “Yes you are, you are my precious Moon River. Yes you are,” He said, reverting to baby talk as he gazed into her eyes..
“Remember river, if there’s a monster, you just need to tell me and I’ll beat him up,” Grif said. “I’m here for you whenever, no matter what happens.” Grifs voice was soft as he spoke. “No matter what, you're going to be happy. That’s my promise to you.” With a smile Grif reached into his bag and gently retrieved something. “Now, I’m not the craftsman that Hammer Strike is, but I’ve done a fair share of whittling in my time.” He smiled as he pulled out a small wooden figurine of a gryphon. The shape was rough, but the wood had been smoothed carefully so there would be no rough edges. He gently placed it next to her. “This is Icarus. He’s going to stay with you so you're not alone at night.” Grif beamed as the little foal smiled, just for a moment. Then she yawned, blinked a few times, and snuggling back to sleep. Pensword smiled and pointed to the door as Lunar Fang dozed again in her bed. He moved to kiss the foal once more before they departed.
Grif tip toed out the door as carefully as possible, moving across the floor like a lion stalking the hunt. They exited the room and closed it behind them. “Congratulations.” Grif smiled at pensword. “You are one lucky guy. You know that?”
The expression on Pensword’s muzzle said it all before a small smirk took it over. “Why?” he asked. Grif started a moment before he noticed the playful glint in his old friend’s eye. They both laughed. “After all, Grif, we need to be ready for that word, you know.” Still, despite the laughter, Grif could tell his friend wanted an answer.
“Why are you lucky?” Grif asked. “Cause you have them. You have something you were told you wouldn’t have. That’s why you’re lucky. Why did it happen to you? Who cares? it happened. That’s what you focus on.” Grif pantomimed carefully. “Eyes forward, move ahead, and be happy with every day you earn.”
Pensword stepped up and hugged his friend. “Thank you for that. I do plan on moving forward. Hopefully they won’t be calling me in front of Congress anytime soon. After all, they wouldn’t be able to touch me as a citizen here.” He frowned suddenly, shaking his head. “Not even a year and look how… entrenched we have become in this world.” He paused a beat and pondered, putting a hoof to his chin. “I guess I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
Grif hugged pensword back. “Now come, my friend,” he said, letting go. “We’ve got a unicorn to take into military custody.”
Penswords eyes narrowed. “Agreed. I am looking forward to the coming event. She will stand trial for her actions.”
“Yes.” Grif nodded with a predatory glare. “She will.” With that he turned smartly to the door and headed for it. His paws were heavy on the floor and his claws left small scuffs on the tiles, but he didn’t care. Pensword and Lunar Fang were his family. And no one got away with hurting his family.
A few minutes later they found themselves about where the impact site of what hit the dome. “Hammer Strike? What was it? What hit the dome?” Pensword shouted as he stopped a distance away. Heat still radiated from the crater, making it impossible for all save the smith lord himself to get close.
There was no verbal response as Hammer Strike threw the object out of the hole. It bounced a few times before rolling to a stop at their feet. A charred blackened head looked back up at them, its fake button eyes seemingly wide with terror.
“Well…” Grif said, reaching into his bag. “I guess we can classify this under…” he pulled out his orange pointy sunglasses and slid them on in one motion “Tactical Hammer Strike.”
“YEAH!” Bulk Biceps called in the distance.
“So,” Hammer Strike called from the hole as he made his way up. “Found out where that finally went.”
“Should we place this in your shop as a memento?” Pensword asked with a raised eyebrow. “Because, well, how are we going to explain all this?”
“Explain it as a plan set in motion before we even knew we needed a plan,” Hammer replied with a mysterious voice and a shrug.
“Well, I can live with that,” Grif said as he put the sunglasses away. “Now how about we go arrest a pony, Shawn?”
Hammer Strike simply shrugged in response. “Did you find where she was?”
“Twilight should be finished with her by now,” Grif said.
“Good.” Pensword muttered darkly.
Pensword looked to Grif on one side of him and to Hammer Strike on the other as they watched from the sidelines away from the stand where Princess Celestia, High Chieftess Luna, and the Saddle Arabian delegates stood while Twilight performed a feat of animal juggling. He looked back to Grif. “I cannot believe Twilight shot us down on Trixie’s punishment. And now Trixie’s just helping with the show? Where is the justice in that? Now we have to wait for it to finish before we deal with her,” Pensword muttered. Despite his enjoyment of the show, he was far from happy about the whole affair.
“I don’t care,” Grif growled. “Once the show is done we’re arresting her. You still have that Lunar permit and if Celestia tries to delay us, we can take her under the Bladefeathers’ jurisdiction for judgement by Lord Hammer Strike. She is going to stand trial. I don’t care if I have to take her to Zebrica to do it. It’s going to happen.”
“I think we can work on something. I talked to some of the residents, including the Mayor, and I learned an interesting fact. She worked on a Rock Farm. Pinkie Pie somehow knew what I was looking for and confirmed the farm in question was in fact her family’s rock farm.” He paused for a moment. “Maybe she can help with the rocks at the quarry. We need somepony who’s knowledgeable on the subject. And if she really can be sorry, it may be good for the camp’s morale,” Pensword replied.
“It’s your call,” Grif said. “You are technically the most wronged out of the three of us.”
“We put her on trial first and hold a hearing. After that, we shall see. I will let the courts decide. I will not allow myself to be all three as I was in the war,” he said, taking a deep breath as the memory of his actions resurfaced. “Let the town decide,” he said again.
As the scene went on, Grif’s claws drew back his bow the minute Trixie’s horn lit up, relaxing only slightly when her magic joined with Twilight's to help with the final trick. Trixie and twilight seemed to interact for a few minutes and then Grif caught trixies horn light up a second time. He had already pulled back and fired as the smoke cloud erupted. When it cleared it revealed Trixie still very much alive, pinned to the ground by a large arrow that had wedged itself in her cape. A startled gasp ran through the crowds and the murmuring began. Grif looked to hammerstrike and Pensword, then signaled with a head jerk. The time had come to act.
Pensword quickly moved forward, or started, to when Princess Celestia’s magic enveloped the arrow and pulled it from the cap. “My friends, she called as she stepped from the stage followed by the delegates from Saddle Arabia. “While this might be acceptable from your times in the past, we do not go scaring the lives of ponies in Equestria for wrongdoing.”
The princess’ look was indecipherable as she gazed upon the warriors of old. With a nod of her head, however, her guards did form up around Trixie, making sure she had no avenue available for escape.
“With all due respect, your highness, the accused moved to flea. I moved to incapacitate. I was within my rights,” Grif said.
The male delegate raised a hoof slightly. “I do say, this is rather entertaining. Is this also part of the show? Pray tell, by what crimes is this Unicorn accused of that should prevent fleeing from such a wonderful performance?”
Grif looked to Pensword, his brow raised in an unspoken question. Pensword gave a small nod, consenting before deciding to add a few words of his own. “You might be a little more civil than I feel at the moment.” He turned to look at Trixie. With that, Grif cleared his throat and proceeded with his narration.
“Yesterday, just before noon with the use of a forbidden dark magical artifact, this unicorn proceeded to annex the township of Ponyville. She also forced dame Twilight Sparkle into a magical duel. When Twilight failed, this criminal proceeded to banish twilight from the township. She endangered the life of several mares and stallions, including one Pinkamena Diane Pie, who had her very mouth removed from her muzzle, disabling her from the life sustaining act of eating and drinking during the duration of this event. She also has several assault charges being pressed by parents in regards to foals. Under orders by princess Luna, she has been exempted from the charge of high treason due to the amulet’s corrupting effects. However, Lord Hammer Strike has been granted the authority to apprehend Trixie Lulamoon to be tried and sentenced within New Unity by the authority of Princess Luna,” Grif said, presenting a scroll to Celestia. “I’m sure you’ll find everything is in proper order, your highness.”
“What I am curious about,” Princess Celestia said in her famous motherly tone. “Is why you are prosecuting in New Unity. Surely the citizens of Ponyville would have a higher authority to prosecute this case, seeing as the events in question occurred within their own town borders.” She returned to reading the scroll while, thankfully, the guards had kept most of the onlookers from approaching the stand.
“Mayor Mare considered the situation ‘above her pay grade,’ I believe the term was,” Luna chimed in. “As ponyville lacks a proper garrison or access to proper criminal housing facilities, I felt Hammer Strike would be a prudent substitute.”
“If I may?” The Saddle Arabian Stallion interjected as he tossed his sandy mane. “I could not help but notice the expressions of two of the three here, and it feels like there is another reason that might be a more personal touch. On behalf of our nation, we ask,” he said as he looked Grif in the eyes without so much as a twitch. “What was it she did that grieved you so personally?” He narrowed his eyes. “You speak for your friends and your lord. So answer me truthfully.”
Celestia looked more than a little surprised at this reaction as she laughed a little nervously as she prayed fervently to Faust that nothing dangerous would come about from this sudden confrontation.
“Commander Moonkissed Pensword Hurricane over there,” Grif said, gesturing to his friend. “Should have been celebrating his daughter’s birth yesterday. She was born only just before noon. The commander left the town to retrieve some items for a Thestral traditional ritual and was forced to spend the next 24 hours and then some under high duress. Being that his daughter is also my goddaughter, I take what happened very close to heart,” Grif answered honestly and unabashed. “Fear not, sir. She is to receive neither capital nor marshal punishment for her actions. But justice demands some service for what she has done.”
The diplomat stared pensively into the Gryphon’s eyes as he processed the claim, then gave a brief nod. “Very well, I am satisfied.” The Stallion replied and turned to Princess Celestia. “I will not tell you how to run your own nation, as you don’t tell our Sultan how to run ours,” he paused. “However, it seems that this matter is all well in hoof. Now, you mentioned this Lord of a neighboring land that, as you put it, ‘we simply must meet?’” he asked as he returned to his companion’s side. The purple horse smiled gently and nodded gracefully towards the gryphon and his companions before she whispered into the other diplomat’s ear. He blushed, his cheeks changing from a light brown to a deep red as Luna stepped forward.
“While this would be fun, I think I shall speak with these two about the coming trial and service,” She replied with a smile. “Besides, I too would meet this new foal of the house of Pen.”
“Then I shall go tell pensword that I will take the prisoner to her escort and he can introduce you. She is quite the sight,” Grif said as he walked towards the comander. Trixie seemed a little hesitant as the gryphon motioned for her to move forward, but complied.
Pensword saluted with a small smile at the thought of introducing Luna to his daughter. He waited for Trixie to be secured before bowing to Princess Celestia and the delegates. “If you would excuse us, your excellency,” he said. “Right this way, High Chieftess.”
“Tower, Blast,” Grif nodded towards the two. “This is the formerly Great and Powerful Trixie. Until further notice you are to be her armed escort. You are not to let her leave your side until she is within New Unity’s holding cells,” Grif said. Both stallions nodded, their looks grave.
“Wait!” the familiar voice of twilight carried over from behind Grif.
“Twilight, I know you think she’s innocent but the law has rules and they need to be followed,” Grif said.
“Can I at least speak to her before you cart her off for who knows how long?” she asked
Grif sighed but nodded. “You can have a few minutes. But these guys need to get going soon.” The gryphon stalked off as tower and blast shield remained close by. Twilight looked at trixie.
“Trixie … I just wanted to say… I’m sorry too,” Twilight said.
“You're sorry? What do you have to be sorry for? Trixie is the one who made her mistakes,” trixie said. “And Trixie will be the one to answer for them. It’s time Trixie made something better of herself.”
“No. I mean I’m sorry that your first visit to ponyville was so hostile. I’m sorry for what happened with the ursa minor and for showing you up in front of everyone. I never meant for that. I was just trying to help. When this all blows over, I was kind of hoping that maybe, possibly, we could be friends.”
Trixie smiled at Twilight “You are truly a one in a million mare, Twilight Sparkle. Trixie would very much like to be your friend. Please, don’t be afraid to keep in touch.” The mare looked to the armed guards and nodded.“Trixie thinks she may need the distraction in the near future.” The two mares smiled at each other for a moment before embracing in a hug. As they separated, Tower Shield moved in to inform Trixie it was time to head to New Unity.
“Farewell, Twilight Sparkle. Until next time.” Trixie waved as she followed the soldiers.
“Goodbye …. my friend.” Twilight waved back.
Celestia had been very determined for Hammer Strike to meet the delegates. He was about to head back to New Unity when the princess called out to him.
“Ah, there you are Hammer Strike.” Celestia smiled in an almost evil way as she caught the fleeing lord. “Just the one I wanted to see.”
“For the reason of?”
“The delegates from Saddle Arabia were very interested to meet with you personally.” She chuckled, turning to the delegates. “This is Lord Hammer Strike. He was a teacher to me and Luna when we greatly needed one.”
The male delegate bowed his head. “Great Djinn of fire, it is an honor to finally meet you. Our land was in excitement when your pupil of the state told us you had returned from a long journey.” He raised his head and smiled before losing it. “Are you not pleased to be together once more with your student?”
“With everything she has accomplished within Equestria you must be very proud,” the mare delegate said, nodding.
“I am happy. I simply do not show emotion well,” Hammer explained. “Lasting through the years and keeping Equestria on its path, I would call that a great accomplishment.”
“Our Sultan wished that a gift be given to you,” the mare said, pulling a cloth covered object from under her saddle. “It is one of our peoples’ artifacts of Solomane.”
Hammer Strike accepted the gift with a thanks before unwrapping it slightly to glimpse what it was.
In the cloth lay a sheathed dagger, finely crafted. The sheath itself was of hard black leather overlaid with gold at the top and the bottom while the handle had a gold pommel and a scarlet wrapped handle. on the cross guard sat a large red ruby that was hot to the touch.
“I think I know where to place this,” Hammer Strike said.
“What do you have there, Hammer Strike?” Celestia asked, noting the package on his back.
“Go ahead and take a look. I think you might find it amusing,” He replied.
Celestia cautiously took the package and opened it. “Is this what I think it is?”
“Yep, finally came back from orbit,” he replied simply.
The delegates looked at Celestia with wide eyes. The princess simply smiled in reply. “It’s a personal matter. I can’t discuss it at this time,” she said, placing the package back on Hammer Strike’s back.
“Understandable,” the male Saddle Arabian replied. “I am wondering though. Would you care to join us for some tea with Princess Celestia at her student’s abode tonight before you return to your duties in New Unity.”
“Unless something comes to take me away, that sounds delightful,” Hammer replied.
“Good morning, guys,” Grif said, looking to Hammer Strike and Pensword across their breakfast table.
“Mornin’,” Hammer replied.
Pensword smiled. “Good morning.” Today would be the day he brought his life mate and daughter home and he couldn’t wait. “This, today is a special day.” he paused. “Oh, and by the way, the Dream Clan is splitting into two. They are requesting some land to settle in nearby so they can visit as family. I hope you do not mind that I already agreed to their request.”
“I’ll have to adjust the plans around where they choose,” Hammer replied. “But aside from that, I’m cool with it.”
“Umm… yeah I’m not going to be around all week,” Grif said. “So could one of you guys check up on the compound construction? You know, make sure my architect isn’t adding additional rooms and stuff to land we don’t have?”
“Well,” Pensword started only to pause as a scroll appeared in the middle of the table. Hammer Strike picked it up before handing it over to the pegasus, who opened it and sighed. “Nevermind ... I am being dragged in front of the Solar Court to answer to their demands for why I gave Luna a city without their permission.” He paused. “Maybe I can scare some of those Gryphon delegates from the Empire again,” he said, smiling. “That means that I will have to present Moon River as my heir to the Solar Court, then the Lunar Court. I am definitely going to be gone for the next two weeks at the very least. So will Lunar Fang.” He put a hoof to his chin. “Though, if needed, you can ask the Gryphon Slayers to help watch over the compound.”
“And I’m headed to Canterlot to meet the gryphons coming for the negotiations about Gryphonia’s place in the Equestrian games,” Grif said.
Pensword paused and looked to Hammer Strike with a mischievous smile on his muzzle. An ear flicked twice.
“No,” Hammer Strike responded flatly.
“So, Gryphon Slayers it is?” Pensword replied to Hammer Strike’s no.
“Yep,” Hammer replied.
“Well, if we have nothing more to discuss, I think I shall be leaving to gather my family and catch the train to Canterlot. I shall see you all in two weeks. Sooner in your case, Grif.”
“Alright.” Grif nodded. “Hopefully this won’t be as painful as it promises to be.”
Pensword stood on the platform grinning as he swayed to a sound only he could hear. “Train’s coming,” He commented. “I think it is the Canterlot Special this time.”
Lunar Fang chuckled, playfully bouncing the baby. “Dear, I think you’re worrying the other passengers.”
“What? You can not hear-” he was interrupted by the faint whistle of a steam train as it dispersed through the air around them.
“Deep breaths, Pensword. Deep breaths,” a familiar voice spoke.
“Why?” Pensword asked. “I love getting to travel by train. That reminds me, I need to talk the Railway into building a spur out to New Unity. It will allow more supplies and building materials. Not to mention getting talks going for a short line to haul the stones from the quarry too.”
Grif was shadowed by an older, uptight looking gryphon male in formal armor bearing the insignia of the emperor. A crossbow lay mounted on his back while a saber and dagger belt hung around his waist. “Because you’re getting over excited again and your laugh is starting to bother ponies,” Grif said. “Just calm down, okay?”
“Okay, Okay,” Pensword muttered with a grumpy expression before noticing the other Gryphon. “Oh,” He said, his voice guarded. “I take it you come from the Empire?” His eyes narrowed in suspicion before he turned to look back down the tracks.
“This is Coal Feather Jacius, formerly the herald of the darkflight clan, which was recently wiped out. He has been sent to serve as my assistant until this mess is over with,” Grif said, rolling his eyes.
“The emperor has afforded you a great opportunity. You should approach it with more reverence,” Coal Feather scolded.
“So, Grif, where are your siblings?” Pensword asked. “You know, Tall Oak and Little Willow?”
“Willow is helping the Apple family and Tall Oak seems to want to have words with Big Macintosh about something. I suspect the two things are linked, but I got no proof at the moment,” Grif explained.
Pensword smiled. “Well, that is news indeed.” He turned to nuzzle his daughter as she cooed at him and he returned the affections in kind. To anypony that didn’t know Pensword personally, such actions would seem intensely out of character for the battle ridden hero of the Third Gryphon War. He just kept smiling despite the looks. After all, babies, no matter what the species, always seem to have that effect on adults. He looked up as the train puffing into the station assaulted their senses with it’s piercing whistle, radiant heat, and the scent of burning coal. Pensword looked like Scootaloo after an afternoon in the candy store. “I love trains.”
Grif smiled as he walked down the halls of Canterlot Castle. Celestia had been very generous in letting him hold his “meetings” here, and fortunately he didn’t need to start anything till tomorrow. There were currently a good many gryphons from different areas all over the castle. Thanks to his new red gryphon hoodie, which covered most of his chest, no one was able to identify him by his unusual green plumage.
He carefully analyzed the halls and those around him, trying to make sure nothing suspicious was going on when his eye caught sight of a somewhat petite gryphoness contemplating one of the stained glass windows. She was small, but her body showed clear signs of athleticism. Her feathers were a deep dark blue while her fur seemed more of a light powdery blue. She wore neither fancy dress nor the gaudy adornments he had noticed on most of the other gryphonesses arriving. And seeing her now, standing out in such a stuck up crowd made him curious. She was clearly a maid or some sort; perhaps a servant to one of the emperor’s cousins. But what was her story?
“Bonjour?” he called out as he slowly approached. Phrench seemed like a safer bet for the moment.
“Bonjour,” she replied in return. “Do you speak this language?” She asked in Equis, looking a little nervous.
“Oh, yes, of course. I wasn’t sure if some of the new gryphons were fluent or not,” he replied. “I’ve been in Canterlot for so long, my Gryphic has a horrible accent.” He smiled sheepishly at her. “And I have certainly never seen a gryphoness like you around.”
“Well,” She blushed. “I prefer my own path and try to live up to the expectations that were set out by Empress Warbeak. Though it is nice to find another who is able to speak Equis. It is rude not to speak the language of a host nation, is it not?”
“Yes, this is true. I hope then, that you will forgive my rudeness. You may call me Odis,” he said, thinking of the name as quickly as he could. “May I assume you are here with the emperor's delegation? Oh, and may I also have your name?”
“I am Swift Feather. You might have heard of me. I am currently in the running to represent the Gryphons in the upcoming Equestrian Games.” She smiled. Grif could hear the pride in her voice at holding such a status.
“Ah, that is quite an honor indeed. You must be quite a skilled flyer. I am sorry to say I have been traveling a lot lately and the news from the empire is not easy to get,” he said. “But I shall make a note to look up your status,” he said, allowing himself a little laugh and a sly aside. “It is good to meet a real gryphon and not some stupid peacock trying to prove how impressive they are.”
She blushed as she hid a beak behind a wing before blinking in quick succession. “Oh my, I just remembered. I have to be at a meet soon. I ... I would like to speak with you again. When are you free? That is, if you are willing to meet.”
“Unfortunately, my daytime hours are taken by some rather pressing appointments,” Grif noted, trying his best not to lie directly. “However, as it so happens, there is a coffee shop in Canterlot that brews the finest cup in a hundred leagues. Perhaps we could talk more over a cup tomorrow night?” he asked. “Donut Joes, say 6:30?”
“Make it seven and it’s a date,” she said, smiling cryptically. “It is not often it feels like it is I making the first move,” She admitted.
Grif took her talons and raised them before placing a gentle kiss. “Then a date it is,” he said. It was a bit hard for him, but he and Shrial had discussed this already. If the blade feathers were to be a fully recognised clan then this would be necessary. “Until tomorrow, my lady. Parting is such sweet sorrow.” He smiled, releasing her talons.
Swif Feather raised a feathered eyebrow and looked at him before smiling and walking away. Her hips swayed behind her as her tail flicked teasingly through the air. Based on what the warrior had said, this Gryphon was likely one of the clanless looking for a place in this mysterious new Bladefeather Clan. She could hardly wait to learn more.
Hammer Strike ceased his work on the anvil as Blast Shield opened the door, seemingly trying to get his attention. “Yes?” Hammer asked.
“Steel Weaver, Storm Hammer, and Wrought Iron have returned from their trip to Canterlot, sir,” Blast announced.
“Finally done with the check up, are they?” He gave a small smirk. “Only took them a month or so. Lead them here. I’m sure they don’t know the layout just yet.”
“Yes, sir,” Blast said as he left.
A few minutes later Storm Hammer and Steel Weaver entered the forge, each carrying bags with equipment and other miscellaneous tools.
“So how was the trip?” Hammer questioned.
Storm Hammer shook her mane a little in annoyance. “Wrought Iron was rather focused on the schedule, but other than that it was a good trip. My replacement is not as good as I had hoped, but they should be getting the necessary experience. Who would have thought meeting a human would land me here,” She said, gazing contemplatively into the fires of the forge.
“Well, lass, they were a bit pinched tae find two smiths quite as good as us,” Steel Weaver said, laughing. “But it seems the place dinnae fall tae pieces while we were gone. So nothing tae complain about.”
“Sounds about accurate.” Hammer nodded. “How does it feel to be back?”
“To be honest, I want to look at the Alicorn forges. Can you imagine what we could do for the troops if we could find the original alicorn weapon molds?” Storm Hammer asked, smiling. “We also brought the right coal this time.” She beamed as she looked back to the door. “Well, I’m off to explore the rest of the forges. Also, did you know you have a pipe organ in one of the sub basements?”
“Yeah,” Hammer replied. “Hooked up to something, but I haven’t checked yet.”
“So then, should ah go down and see what they’re gonna be needin’ us tae make for this wee little cottage of yours?” Steel Weaver asked.
“Not sure. I’ve been at work for awhile.” Hammer shrugged.
Storm Hammer screeched to a halt. “How much did you make?” She asked flatly.
“Check the back room.”
Storm Hammer looked to Steel Weaver uncertainly before moving to the back room. “Might as well check on our way out.” She stopped before the door and turned to face the smith master. “Uh, milord, just what did you do with Princess Celestia to cause the whole capital to shake?”
Hammer Strike smirked.
Grif sat patiently at the counter as he picked at a donut. He had made a point of arriving early simply to ask Joe and a few of the regulars who would recognise him to use his other name for the evening, or if they happened to see him with a blue gryphoness. He waited as casually as he could, idly spinning his stiletto in his talons and failing at whistling a song. A line of customers waited over by the glass display case, eying the sweets in question as they awaited their turn to order.
Grif groaned as he recalled the day’s events. Gwendolin Tempest Beak, an ornery puffed up noble, had been a near insufferable bore as she spoke all about her superior bloodline and her incredible talents, including the glorious gift of nail buffing and what she called intelligence gathering. Grif rolled his eyes. Half of her so called intelligence had been nothing but idle gossip. He’d zoned out half way through the conversation and was only alerted to when he was supposed to respond by a guard idly tapping his hoof.
After facing an endless supply of the same thing with ladies ranging anywhere from red to pink to white, he left the room exhausted and did nothing else for the remainder of the day. His mind needed a rest after all the fancy dresses and asides of disgust at the “clanless dogs” and “uncivilized equines.” He nearly ripped one particular daughter of the sixth kingdom’s nobility in half when Coal Feather wisely called the meeting to a halt as he lay a restraining hand on the warrior. But now, that was in the past. Now, as he awaited the arrival of Swift Feather, he felt invigorated. The time would soon be at hand for some real stimulating conversation.
Swift Feather crashed through the door, a ball of wet feathers only just beginning to dry. Thanks to her speedy flight, no doubt. Grif nodded to himself as he theorized what could have caused such a state of disarray in the lady. Most likely her meet had run late, requiring her to take a hasty shower before dashing for all she was worth to get here. He smiled and waved invitingly towards her.
“I am so sorry. Coach was drilling us today,” she said, turning to Pony Joe. “One cup, please. Black.” Joe simply nodded and went to prepare the order. “So how were your appointments?” she asked
“Boring beyond belief. It was just me listening to some nobles spout off about themselves and how great they are and this and that,” Grif said as he rolled up his sleeve, returning the stiletto to it’s arm sheath. Swift Feather winced as she noted the scars on his arm. “You’re a mercenary then? Or perhaps a soldier?” she asked.
“Warrior, actually. Hand trained by my father since I could walk.”
“Wow.” Swift Feathers eye’s widened. “Not many like that anymore. I thought they died out after the empire was pushed out of the stampede grounds 400 years ago.”
Grif shrugged. “There are still a few of us around,” he said casually as Joe brought Swift Feather’s order. He flashed Grif a wink as he refilled his cup.
“Not a bad date tonight, ody. What are you doing taking a lady like that to a place like this?” he chuckled.
Swift Feather and Grif both blushed.“Well aside from the fact you make the best coffee I’ve had anywhere, it’s probably the fact that there isn’t a restaurant in this city I could get into in time. Heck, even the hot carrot vendors need a three week reservation.”
“Oh, I’m pretty sure Grif could have gotten you a table if you asked him,” Joe said teasingly as he nudged the warrior.
“Grif Bladefeather? So you work for the Bladefeather Clan, then.” Swift Feather said.
Grif shrugged. “I believe in what they are going to do”
“And what, pray tell, is that?” she asked, her interest peaked. “Lots of gryphons have tried to start clans in Equestria before. It just leads to more clanless.”
“That's the beauty of it,” Grif said, laughing. “Bladefeather is going to be a clan for the clanless. It’s going to bring in all gryphons who are willing to come together peacefully under one roof. All will be welcome. ‘One for all and all for one.’ That’s what Bladefeather keeps saying.”
“And what is Grif Bladefeather like?”
“Just a big stupid bag of wind,” Grif said as he smiled down at his coffee. “A gryphon who refuses to know his place and ends up reaching for glory when he could be helping others.” He sighed a bit. “Honestly, I think he survived the wars more by luck than skill…” any further words where drowned out as Joe stomped on the counter.
“Now you know that isn’t true, Odis. Grif’s a good fighter. Hay, he got attacked in here one time by one of those black feathers, beat him good before finishing him. Didn’t get a scratch on him. And then afterwards his biggest concern was making sure he compensated me for damages.” Pony Joe laughed. “Overpaid me, too.”
“Probably cause you’re the only one who can make a good cup of coffee,” Grif said, joining Joe’s laughter as he lifted his mug.
“So has Grif ever told you any stories about the war?” Swift Feather asked.
“Not me personally,” Joe said as his eyes shifted to Grif. “But Odis here has heard a few from him.”
“Really? Can you share a few with me?” She asked, turning to face “Odis.”
“Well… I don’t really want to be telling another warrior’s war stories,” Grif said, “but how about I tell you some funny stuff I’ve seen around Canterlot?” he asked.
The gryphoness relented, albeit reluctantly. Over the next few hours the couple laughed and swapped funny stories about their lives. Joe informed them he was closing up and this caused Grif to check his pocket watch. “Well, it’s getting late.” Grif sighed “I’d hate to get you in trouble with your coach.”
Swift Feather nodded. “It’s been fun. Think we could meet up again? Tomorrow maybe?”
“Well I’m busy all day again, but maybe we can stroll through the gardens? Around the same time?”
“It’s a date.” she smiled before walking off, swaying her back as before. But was it just Grif, or did she seem to adding a little more to that sashay?
Pensword took a deep breath as he stood in the gardens watching the rising moon. He paused and stiffened as he heard the distinct clack of talon and claw on gravel. He was thankful Lunar Fang and Moon River were resting in their quarters. He’d hate to have his wife trying to restrain him when he noticed unusual behavior in a “guest.” Nearby, a large grey male gryphon was walking through the gardens, his beak held high in the air.
Pensword moved quickly, maintaining line of sight as he shifted to a defensive stance. He would not openly engage a Gryphon, at least not unprovoked. The gryphon stopped suddenly, turned it’s head and saw him. With a glare he turned away, moving further into the garden. Pensword remained where he was. He did not trust himself to speak after such a close encounter. A moment later he heard the distinct sound of wing beats. Leaping into action, Pensword flew into the air, ready to confront whatever enemy might oppose him. He raised a hoof to strike as he spun in midair to face the assailant. A brown bat stared at him, confused as it flapped its leathery wings. The creature tilted it’s head, uncertain what to make of the pony before it.
Pensword looked at the bat, sighed and turned his head as he hovered towards the tower. “I might as well turn in,” he muttered, thinking how foolish he had been. Tomorrow he would meet with the nobles.
“You’re telling me that we have another visitor? That’s the fourth one this week requesting an audience or my attention for something.” Hammer said, sighing as he looked on Tower. “Well, let’s get this over with. Who is it today?”
“Rarity, sir.”
Hammer Strike hummed for a moment. “I wonder what she is visiting for. ... Go ahead and bring her up.” Tower saluted and left immediately. Placing his quill back into its inkwell on his desk, Hammer placed a hoof on his neck as he stretched. He sighed in relief as a series of soft pops occurred.
After a few minutes Blast opened the door, leading Rarity inside before he closed it again. It seemed the brothers were trying to add a little variety by switching back and forth.
“Hello, Rarity. How are things?” Hammer asked.
“Everythings fine, darling. And you?” Rarity asked.
“Just finished some more paperwork. I’m a bit ahead for the time being, which is great,” He replied, smiling faintly. “So, what brings you over?”
“Well, Rainbow Dash and Scootaloo are going on a camping trip with Applejack and Applebloom. Unfortunately, Sweetie has roped me into going along as well. I’d feel much better if I knew we had a big, strong fighter there to protect us,” she said, shuffling her hooves on the ground and giving her best flirtatious eye flicker.
“Uh...” Hammer Strike started. “I mean, I’m free…” He continued. “...When is it?”
“In a few hours.” Rarity responded
“I’ll, uh, see what I can get from here and head to Ponyville for the rest of my supplies,” he said. “If you wait a moment I can head back with you after I grab some of my stuff and give out some orders.”
“Oh, Hammer Strike, thank you so much!” Rarity smiled as she turned to leave. “Oh,” she started, twirling around at the door. “One more thing. Rainbow Dash said we would be gone for about three days.”
“Alright. I’ll meet you at the front gate after I grab my things,” Hammer replied as he stood up. Rarity nodded bashfully and made her way down the halls and out of sight. As hammer went to his armory to gather supplies, his ear twitched and he smiled. Rarity’s squeal of joy could be heard echoing faintly through the drafty castle.
Pensword paced in the hallway as he looked to his life mate. “Lunar Fang, I need to tell you. I do plan on teaching our daughter the customs of the Thestrals. However, the nobles here will need to hear that we shall honor the traditions of Canterlot.” He smiled pleadingly. “So please be understanding.” He looked at a blank spot by an adjacent wall and bowed respectfully. “Thank you, Gramma,” he muttered before turning and stealing a kiss on Lunar Fang’s cheek.
“I’ll try,” Lunar Fang responded, nuzzling him back.
“Thank you. I am sorry I cannot speak about the Thestral conditions, as that could go over poorly with the noble houses. I am afraid that Baron Blueblood was right about one thing. House purges likely will happen should the news get out too soon.”
A smaller, more bookish pony stepped out into the hall as he peered at the couple. “Master Pensword? The court is ready for you, sir.”
“Thank you.” Pensword turned to face the door and sighed heavily. “Wish me luck,” he said as he clip clopped into the chamber. As he looked upon the new house of Lords for the first time, he smiled faintly, admiring the architecture. The chamber had been hollowed out for the court to allow maximum oratory capacity. The space was richly decorated with stained glass windows filtering the sunlight into the golden halls. White fluted pillars trimmed with gold and filled with veins of quartz and other semiprecious stones lined the walls, acting as supports as well as decorations. A long circle of tables similar to the senate of the United States that he recalled from his human half stood in a great semicircle. Great tapestries hung from the walls behind these seats, each woven with the symbol of the great houses of Equestria. Beneath each of these the lords and ladies of the kingdom sat, awaiting the call to order as they whispered to one another. All eyes were on Pensword as he stepped forward to where Princess Luna stood expectantly. She smiled warmly as he approached with Lunar Fang and foal in tow. Then she motioned to her side as the warriors and their new child joined her on the stand, attentive and ready for whatever was to come. Pensword’s acute ears swiveled as he picked up on the idle conversation between the lords and ladies.
“Just look at this. I don’t know about you, Blueblood, but if it comes down to a vote, I have no intention of acknowledging this mule as a member of the aristocracy,” a high pitched voice said.
“Don’t be so quick to judge, Lady Prancis. This may yet yield some … interesting opportunities.” Any chances for further conversation were cut off as the royal Equestrian gavel rang out across the room. In a flash of sunlight, Celestia appeared, smiling at her sister and her two trusted friends.
“Greetings, Sister, Pensword, Lunar Fang. Greetings to you all. Today, a special meeting of the House of Lords has been called to commemorate the induction of the Thestral people as a whole into our herd and our kingdom as equal citizens. I have already spoken to you of my Sister’s plans and received your approval. For this, we both thank you. However, now we must ask you to be prepared for the full consequences of that choice. As a part of the Thestral ponies joining our community, it is only right that they have nobility to rule them, even as we have nobility here to aid in the rule of the Unicorns, Pegasi, and Earth Ponies. As such, it is time that you were introduced to Equestria’s newest lord and his heir,” Celestia said, smiling as she nodded to her sister and stepped away from the spotlight.
Pensword stepped forward, but deferred to Princess Luna. It was a small sign of respect, but something that sent silent tremors through the room as they saw the halfling outright waiting for permission from both sisters before speaking. His loyalty could not be questioned here, for he followed the protocols of a loyal subject. Luna stepped forward, joining with the commander. She smiled encouragingly at him before turning to face the gathered house.
“Fillies and Gentlecolts of the court, it is my great pleasure to present the Grand duke of Y’s, Commander Moonkissed Pensword Hurricane, his wife, Duchess Lunar Fang, and his newly born daughter, Moon River. I trust that you will show him the same respect that you would show any other of your peers,” Luna said, smiling as she gestured to Pensword.
Pensword stepped forward and gave a salute and a bow to Princess Luna, then to Princess Celestia. He turned and faced the court while Lunar Fang placed their daughter on the ground for all to see. He looked at the group of nobles, unsure of what would happen next. Would there be some kind of symbolic questioning? A rite of passage for new nobles? He would soon find out.
After giving orders to Blast and Tower Shield on what they were to do, as well as gathering his own items into a saddlebag, Hammer Strike found himself walking towards the front gate to New Unity where Rarity stood waiting, her attention on something else he could not see.
“Sorry for the delay,” He said. “Had to reassure Tower and Blast that they could handle things here.” He chuckled lightly.
Rarity finished up her string of movements as she sparred with her imaginary opponent. Her lessons with Grif had visibly started paying off in the form of fluid, graceful movements that complimented both the rapier and the hoof holding it. With a spin she slid it back into its sheath before turning. “Oh my. I see someone is trying a new fashion today,” Rarity said.
Hammer glanced at his outfit for a second, a simple black jacket and red shirt underneath, before he shrugged. “I figured for a camping trip I would wear something more casual.”
“It certainly suits you.” Rarity smiled. “So, you have everything you need then? I must say the way you and Grif walk around I’d figured that sword was growing out of your back.”
“Even I like some variety with weapons,” he replied with a smirk. “For a camping trip, I don’t think I will require my sword or hammer.”
“Of course, with luck we shant need weapons at all,” Rarity said, smiling as she fluttered her eyelashes. “To Ponyville then?”
“Certainly. I still have to grab a few things from the stores around Ponyville, which shouldn’t be much of a problem.”
With that said they began their journey through the Everfree Forest towards Ponyville. It didn’t take too long before they arrived near the edge of town. Having talked the whole way, the trip didn’t seem long at all.
“I’ve got to get my things from the boutique. Should Sweetie Belle and I meet you somewhere?” Rarity said.
“Where will you be headed after you get Sweetie Belle?” Hammer asked. “It shouldn’t take me that long to gather what I need.”
“Sweet Apple Acres.”
“I’ll meet you there, then. I just need to head to a few stores…” He paused as he patted his jacket. “And make a trip to the bank. I forgot to grab some bits.”
Pensword, Lunar Fang, and their daughter, Moon River, all sat on a cloth laid out with picnic food as they ate in the Canterlot Gardens. Pensword’s sword of office lay at his side glinting playfully in the moonlight next to the books Lunar Fang and he had been reading. Though at the moment a far more pressing matter held their attention as they stood cooing over their daughter. Moon River giggled and waved her hooves in the air as her parents tickled her.
“Well aren't you three a sight,” a familiar voice spoke up as the sound of swooping wings flapped overhead.
Pensword looked up, his guard raised as he searched for the source of the voice.
Grif, looking somewhat exhausted, smiled at the three happily. “It’s nice to see someone I can just talk to.”
“What’s wrong?” Lunar Fang asked as she moved over to give Grif a seat. “Care for some Vampire Fruit Bat?”
“Ooh, thanks.” Grif smiled taking a piece from the platter next to the now empty wicker basket. “The emperor's…. cousins, are from Tartarus,” Grif said, groaning and shuddering simultaneously.
Pensword raised an eyebrow. “Grif… I saw Hell from the Emperor. Are they really as bad as they were back then?”
“The last three hours were conversations on how the Hardbeak clan has the best wingtips in the Southern Kingdom. They’re brown. The same brown as hundreds of thousands of other gryphons out there.”
Pensword paused, then he began to laugh. “Grif, is that,” Lunar Fang slowly joined in, trying to stifle her giggles as Moon River added a cooing laugh of her own. “That,” Pensword tried to speak again. “Sorry. But compared to our past that is both boring and hilarious at the same time.”
Lunar Fang’s eyes twinkled. “When this week is over, in Thestral communities, nothing is sweeter than the first laugh of a newborn Thestral. Since you made her laugh, according to Thestra tradition, you now get to sit on her right as her guest of honor when next we meet.”
“Well, at least she’s happy.” Grif smiled at the foal. “Keep that up, River. There are enough grumps and worry worts in the world. You keep being happy.” He gently tickled her stomach, eliciting yet another series of giggles. She paused a moment before hiccupping. Then she closed her eyes cross eyed as she hiccuped again. Lunar Fang quickly took the foal in her hooves and began to pat her back.
“Grif Is there anything I can do to help with this ‘problem?’” Pensword asked with a frown.
“Well it’s not all bad.” Grif smiled distantly. “The nights have been… spectacular,” he said, grinning idly.
“Oh?” Lunar Fang replied with a knowing smile. “What’s going on? Or is that some Gryphon state secret?” She smirked at Grif, then gave a small nicker of a laugh.
“I met one of the imperial athletes and we may have been seeing each other nights,” Grif said. “But it’s likely to crash and burn.”
Pensword raised a wing in objection. “Grif, I thought that very thing and look what happened.” he moved a hoof to point to Lunar Fang and Moon River. “You, at least, are trying. That is what matters. And who knows? You may find something out of it. Just don’t give up because the walls are too thick… takes time.”
“I totally lied about my identity and made ‘Grif’ look like a total stereotypical gryphon war hero while acting like his servant. Literally everything she knows about who I am is a lie.” Grif groaned, smacking his forehead with a taloned hand.
“That is rather crazy,” Lunar Fang admitted. “Still, you better tell her the truth before the week is over. See how it goes. Just let her know about your real station. If she really likes you, she’ll understand and accept you. If she doesn’t, then she’s not worth your time.”
“Lunar’s right. You are acting like yourself. You just put yourself under another name. She shouldn’t mind.” Pensword frowned. “Just be careful.” His left ear twitched. “I hear more Gryphon Wing Beats. Expecting any company soon?”
“Probably my assistant to go over my schedule for tomorrow and my meeting with yet another gryphoness too high on herself to care about the rest of the world.” Grif sighed. “Thanks for the fruit bat, guys. Wish me luck,” he said, turning to the foal and giving her belly another tickle. “And you be a good girl for me, River. Okay?”
She giggled, then yawned as she lay against her mother’s neck, making all present smile while Pensword stood. “If you need any Pony insights, by all means, I have three Dream Clan members here that would love to stand guard.” He chuckled. “It will also get them out of our manes for a while.” He sighed. “I just do not know what the future will hold. The Nobles have mixed feelings about Lunar Fang and I being the face of Luna’s new court. But they should hopefully get over it.”
“Well, Pensword, you have the support of a princess. Two, actually. So in all honesty, just ignore them. They're technically, morally, and socially beneath you.” Grif shrugged as he moved to leave. “And honestly, if they don’t like it, they can settle it on the sparring field.”
“Oh, I am sure we will,” Lunar Fang responded. “Thank you for the kind words.” She put a wing on her life mate’s head. “You know him. Always looking for some way to avoid battle first.” Her face darkened. “But get him past that point and Faust help you.”
Grif smirked as he kicked off. “Faust help anyone who pushes us that far.”
“Sorry about that. Trip to the bank took a bit longer than expected,” Hammer Strike said as he walked up to the group. A new bag sat atop his back in addition to the two he already had at his sides.
“Doesn’t that seem a might much there, sugarcube?” Applejack asked, raising an eyebrow.
Hammer Strike shrugged. “Doesn’t bother me. It’s just a few extra things anyways.”
“Well, now that we’re all here, I guess we can get goin’,” Applejack said.
Noticing a wagon next to Sweetie Belle and Rarity, Hammer stepped up to the hitch. “How about you let me pull that?” he asked as he eyed the wagon again.
“Are you sure?” Rarity asked
“I’m sure Sweetie Belle would be happier,” he said as he looked at her. “Right?”
“Definitely.” Sweetie nodded her head.
One short wagon hitching later, Hammer looked to the group once again. “So, when do we head off?”
“Wait, what about Rainbow Dash?” scootaloo asked, concerned.
“She’ll be meeting us at our first campsite,” Rarity said.
Hammer Strike remained quiet as he pulled the wagon with ease. He kept his thoughts to himself, mulling over ideas while keeping track of where everypony in the group was. Inevitably, his train of thought led him to the chapters in the book that he had yet to translate as well as his thoughts on his next project. Though a certain filly seemed to derail that train from time to time when he looked back at her.
The group wandered on as they followed Applejack in silence. Occasionally the silence would be broken by a few snippets of conversation between Rarity and Hammer, and some questions from Sweetie Belle about some guard friends and the work on fixing up the old castle.
“Applejack, darling, are we there yet?” Rarity asked for what seemed like the thousandth time.
“The last thousand times you asked the answers been no…. this time it’s actually yes!” Applejack said, relieved as she motioned to the clearing ahead. Just then a Rainbow blur flew by overhead. “There’s Rainbow Dash now,” she said as the blur in question slam kicked through four surprisingly thick trees before flying by, dropping several logs on the ground. Then the blur entered the nearby stream, exiting without slowing. Rainbow flew in a circle as she dropped the rocks from the stream bed, forming a rudimentary fire pit.
‘I’ll give that a seven,” Hammer Strike commented in a strange accent.
Scootaloo attempted to walk up and speak to Rainbow Dash only to trip up. she groaned a bit. “Hi, Rainbow Dash,” she said, setting her hooves behind her head while attempting to act casual. “What’s up?”
“What took you guys so long?” Rainbow asked.
“Oh, you know, walking,” Hammer replied simply.
“Some of us didn’t pack as light as the rest.” Applejack casually glanced at Rarity’s wagon. “So we were held up a little.” Over the next hour Applejack, Applebloom, and Rainbow Dash set up two tents. Meanwhile, Sweetie Belle unloaded several pieces of luggage while Rarity took down a book with a pull cord. Setting it down in a large, relatively clear space, she pulled the cord to reveal a large self constructing tent. A few feet away, Hammer Strike had set up an average tent for himself.
Pensword listened to his hooves clip clop down the stone hallway, his eyes intent as he searched the doors. At last, he sighed in frustration and simply opened a door to the right. Dust floated in the air in a large cloud, indicating the room had neet seen use in quite some time.
“Perfect,” he said. He turned to the two Thestral guards who had been shadowing him. “Guard this door with your lives,” he commanded. “Do not let even Princess Celestia herself into this room if she asks.” He walked into the room, shut, and locked the door before moving to the table. He blew away the dust and pulled up an old padded chair before pulling out a pouch he’d been carrying around his neck. Opening the item in question, he began removing the documents he had been studying, mainly treaties of Equestria with the other nations around her. Lastly, he pulled out his personal copy of the treaty from the Third Gryphon War. Slowly, he uncapped the scroll case and tipped the document out to read, spreading it out between the other treaties. He paused as he read a paragraph before moving his eyes to another treaty he had read this morning, quickly finding the line he wanted. Then he jumped to another treaty with Gryphonia, one that had come later than the Third Gryphon War. He moved back to the his treaty, then to the later one, shifting back and forth. He returned to the Treaty with his name on it. The more he read, the more he grew nervous.
“This isn’t possible.” He turned and slammed the door open.
“You!” he shouted, startling an Earth Pony guard in solar armor. “I need you to find Grif right this instant. I don’t care what your patrol is, I am demanding that as Commander of Equestrian Armed Forces. Find Grif and tell him this word. Armageddon.” It was interesting that the Equestrians adopted only a few Dragon words. This happened to be one of them. The pony stood there, gawking. “Well, don’t stand there. MOVE!” He heard the armor and hoofs clattering as the guard hurried down a hallway before he turned to shut the door. He stopped mid-swing and turned to face one of his guards. “Find me a map of the world, along with a map of Equestria’s colonies on the Zebrican continent. I also want a map of Gryphon colonies around the world.” With that order given, he moved back into the room and shut the door, locking it once more. He moved to his pouch. “Guess I get to see if I can use this misspeak crystal to hide the coming conversation.”
Grif took another slurp of his tea as the gryphoness across prattled on. Two days, Grif reminded himself. Just two more days and this entire stupid mess could be over with. Shrilan Featherbright the Third went on and on and on about her bloodline and their greatness during the last great gryphon revolution. He was sure he was going to lose his mind when a knock came from the door. Thanking whichever supreme being had decided on this mercy, Grif made for the door, opening it hastily.
“Yes?” he asked.
A nervous white Earth Pony in Solar armor shook a little as he spoke the words. “I am to tell you this word from Commander Pensword, direct orders. Armageddon.” Grif immediately snapped to attention.
“Thank you, soldier. Back to your duties,” Grif ordered. The guard nodded, gulping before racing off down the hall. Grif did his best to suppress a smile. “I’m sorry, milady, but we’re going to have to cut this short. Something beyond important has come up and I must be off.” Without waiting for a response Grif took to the air and barreled.
The gryphoness sat back and huffed at being so rudely abandoned. She looked to take it out on the guard that had been tending to Grif, only to find herself completely alone. An angry shriek echoed from the castle window, causing more than a few ponies to cringe in their posts.
Grif found Pensword only because of the four guards in the hallway. All of whom were Thestral, and judging by his quick eyes, of the Dream Clan. Also they were expecting him as they let him barrel down the hallway. He found the door flanked by two guards.
“No one within ten paces of this door, gentlecolts.” He nodded respectfully to them as he opened it. “Keep up the good work,” he added before entering the room. He saw Pensword dressed in his Ursa Minor robe as he looked upon maps that he had tacked to the wall. He also noticed a shimmer at the windows and the moment he entered the room a crystal in the middle of the table turned from red to green. He noticed an ear flicked towards the door before turning back to the wall.
“Read the paragraphs on the parchment nearest you,” Pensword commanded grimly. “I copied them word for word from the treaties. If you wish, you can compare them with the originals I have at the other end of the table.” He moved purposefully to another map. Grif realized he had been looking at a world map and now had shifted to a map with a few different colors on it. He glimpsed the title. Gryphon Colonies in the South Alicorn Ocean.
"Should Gryphonia breach upon the sovereign grounds of the diarchy or the adjacent monarchy of the crystal empire or attack these two nations then the sun shall set ablaze all of the southern fields rendering them ash and Gryphonia should expect no aid for the ensuing famine." Grif looked it over again. "Okay, that’s eerily specific."
“Yes. Please read the most recent statement of Equestrian response should Zebrica be invaded. Follow that by reading the most recent diplomatic document to Gryphonia. Notice something missing from those two events, something important,” Pensword replied. He moved to another map. This one showed Equestrian Colonies around the South Dragon Sea.
“The southern fields, Equestria’s main threat for them not to attack Equestria, isn’t on here,” Grif said “It’s only the military support should they attack Zebrica. Which means Gryphonia could attack them in self defense.”
“Yes,” Pensword responded, finally turning to look at Grif. “Speak with as much candid thoughts as you want. Any who might try to eavesdrop, even from my own clan, will hear a misdirected conversation about something else. Now. Question. What might Gryphonia do should they learn about this loophole? Not the Emperor. He seems to see us as agents of revenge and change against the evils of the old Empire. But what of the remaining Kings? Or those that hold land under the Kings?”
“... We have to handle this without telling anyone. We need to take this before Daedalus himself.” Grif put his palm to his forehead.
“What about Celestia? Should we inform her?” he asked flatly. Grif knew that tone well. Pensword was bracing for a conflict.
“As great as her diplomacy is, this seems more a covert operation, my friend.”
Pensword cracked a thin smile. “Then we are agreed. Still, how do we get ahold of Daedalus? We cannot just go over and kidnap him to talk to him.” After a moment in thought, he face hoofed. “I am suddenly reminded of National Treasure 2."
Grif pulled out a map of Gryphonia from a pouch at his side and unraveled it. “Unfortunately, we have two options. Convince Celestia to hold a large, elaborate, and expensive meeting with Daedalus, or go to Gryphilheim itself,” Grif said, pointing to the city that was the Gryphon seat of power.
“Which is right in the center of the land mass,” Pensword muttered darkly. “I would rather not have the elaborate meeting. While it would be fun to see Celestia pay for parts of it out of her own account, there are just too many ears that could get the information to the Kings that could allow them to go to war and gain precious resource sites. And once conquered, they could sit under their control for years during the peace conferences.” He frowned. “I shall not have any more grievances over any future wars. The best bet is to head to Gryphilhiem itself.”
“So we just need to cross five days worth of highly hostile territory to a city full of people who would love to see us dead.” Grif said, smirking. “Sounds like a party.”
Pensword looked at the map and blinked. He paused and looked up to Grif. “Well, this may sound random, but listen fully. I got the full flags finished so we could retire the original war colors we captured to a war museum. However, we could pack up these new unworn flags as a ‘gift of goodwill’ to return to those that are still connected to it. Especially the Emperor’s Talon. He looked to Grif. “How much can that buy us in protected movement through the land?”
“We could get in.” Grif nodded “It’s getting out that would be the trick. Still, I think I have an idea of how to do that as well.” He smiled “We’ll just need two chests of gold.”
Pensword looked at Grif, curious. “Why two?”
“Because, Pensword, two will get us a nice small ship. Something us and a few guards can handle.” He smiled at his friend. “Gryphilheim’s largest export is airships.”
“Ah… and we add it to New Unity’s military’s arsenal.” He nodded. “That sounds good. You planning to bring any others? I hate to say this, but I have to leave Lunar Fang and Moon River behind. The other Gryphon Slayers will be coming with, though. What escort could be better than the very legion that struck fear into the hearts of Gryphons the world over? … Better make it three chests of gold.”
“We can only have a symbolic guard for a clan leader. Ten, maybe fifteen gryphons. That’s about it. I’ll leave shrial behind to keep an eye on the family and take Thalia with me.”
“Very well. Just do not do anything rash. Though if you are going to marry Shiral, do it before we leave.” He smiled. “Or else make it the very first thing you do once you return. With how adventure finds us, I think it only fair that you take the next step.”
“We cannot run into this blindly,” Grif noted. “We need to talk with Hammer Strike and our soldiers and other staff. We can’t let a single detail go unconsidered here.”
“Agreed. This is going to be our most intense and hopefully well planned campaign. May Faust guide our hoofsteps for the coming future.”
“I actually have an engagement to prepare for,” Grif noted, checking his pocket watch. “I’ll talk to you later, okay?”
“Very well.” Pensword responded before he frowned. “May this week do you better then this news might have given.”
“You know, if you wanted, I could have started the fire with relative ease,” Hammer Strike commented as he looked to the orange glow in the pit.
“How? You're not carrying anything,” Rainbow Dash pointed out.
The hue of the fire shifted for a brief moment to blue before changing back. “Just a little bit of control over fire,” Hammer responded.
“Well that must be more useful than a cider press on a hot day,” Applejack said.
“Especially when it comes to entering areas of extreme temperature,” He replied.
“So then, who’s up for a scary story?” Rainbow Dash asked as she smiled sinisterly.
“That depends. will it even be scary?” Hammer asked with a smirk.
“Puh-lease. I got the scariest stories ever!” Rainbow Dash chuckled darkly.
“I’ll believe it when I hear it,” Hammer Strike replied in a flat tone.
Rainbow started her story with a slow pace, carefully timing her emphasis. Over the next 15 minutes she spun her tail carefully, making sure to keep everyone's attention as she rose and fell in volume, sometimes shouting, sometimes uttering a little more than a whisper. The CMC members hung on her story with anticipation, falling into the expected roles easily as they gasped in surprise, leaned closer in suspense, and shrieked in shock. “And so, they say you can still hear the olden pony moving through the forest, asking ‘where's my rusty horse shoe?”
“Spooky,” Hammer replied with a hint of sarcasm.
“Yeah yeah.” Rainbow Dash rolled her eyes.
Applejack and Rarity each took their sisters and headed for their tents.
“You’re not scared, are you?” Rainbow teased Scootaloo.
“Me? Scared? No way!” Scootaloo chuckled nervously as they headed for their tent. Rainbow looked at Hammer Strike somewhat confused.
“What are you going to be doing for the next few hours?” she asked.
“If you’re all going to sleep, then nothing, for the entire night.” He shrugged.
“Well … go ahead and enjoy yourself, I guess.” Rainbow rolled her eyes as she and scootaloo entered their tent.
“Not like I get much conversation in anyways,” he muttered to himself before sighing. “Like usual.”
Pensword paused at the door for the guest quarters. He took a breath before pushing the door open to reveal a grandly decorated front room. However, he was not paying that much attention to the furnishings this time. He needed to find his mate. “Lunar Fang?” he called out, “Thestral?” He called again after going through two rooms and not seeing her.
Lunar Fang looked up from a nearby couch where she currently lay with moon river in her hooves. “Yes, human?” she called back.
“Dear…” he began. Her brows furrowed as she looked on his face. I flowed down his back. She knew. “I ... found a loophole in the treaties, and… the only way to solve it, without tipping this off to any Gryphons, is to return the brand new reproduction flags to those that legally can accept them as we travel toward the capital to um … meet with the current Gryphon Emperor.” He coughed as he scuffed a hoof on the floor while Moon River sighed.
“You are aware the Gryphons still want you dead, yes?” she asked.
“Which is why the flags will buy us time. As long as we have those, we will have immunity. The Gryphons will not risk bringing harm to something so valuable to their culture. Still, either Grif and I travel this path, or we just stand by and wait till some scholar spurred by our return decides to look into the old treaties and realizes Celestia’s almighty sun beam won’t be usable in war if they attack another ally and then us while we are honoring another treaty.” Lunar Fang’s eyes wandered to the glowing stone around her husband’s neck. “My dear Lunar Fang. What do you see as the right course of action?” he asked, looking at her with worry in his eyes.
“I’m not sure there is anything we’d call a ‘right course,’” Lunar Fang spoke after considering everything. “Just what is the necessary course. And as much as I hate to admit it, it seems the necessary course takes you away from me.”
He blinked. “Wait, you are saying that, and not I?” he asked in disbelief. Then he smiled, shaking his head. “Of course you know already.” He chuckled before moving in to nuzzle his mate. I am sorry, my dear, my little Thestral. But you should know that I love you and I want our dear Moon River growing up without fear of an invasion.” He sighed. “But I would love to have thy help in the planning of the trip, if I may.”
“When do you leave?”
“Not for a while. We have to plan this a lot better than some of the other events, especially better than the changeling invasion.” He paused and blinked, shaking his head. “That feels like ages ago now.”
“For us, it was over a millenia ago.” she said, smiling back at him.
“Very true. And may we never see them again. They were the first enemies I ever met, and frankly, they almost killed me.” He shook his head to clear it of the memories. “My Thestral? Can I ask a question?”
“You can ask me anything.”
“What would ... what would have happened if I did die in that battle? Would you have buried me Pegasus, Earth Pony, Unicorn, or in some other manner?” He held up a wing. “In fifth grade I wrote out a last will and testament, I am not joking. The happy days were the days where I could take those sealed documents and shred them when I knew I was going to live a long time after the surgeries.” He paused, furrowing his brow. “What happened to my last will I wrote here anyway?”
“I honestly don’t know,” she admitted.
Pensword paused. “Sorry, dear. I just, I am in one of those moods again. We came so close to dying in that event. Shawn most of all. I thought he really did die a few times back there.” He shook his head. “Wow, the things you remember. I will have to show you this video if we ever go back. It’s all about humans.” He stepped forward hesitantly, his eyes suddenly looking very vulnerable “Can, can I join you on the couch and snuggle?”
“Of course.” she smiled warmly, moving aside to make room for him.
Pensword smiled as he climbed onto the couch and nuzzled his life mate. Then he leaned his head against her neck and sighed. “Dear, I have to say, tell me where I would be the day I landed in Princess Celestia’s garden, that I would do all this,” he said, motioning around the room with a hoof. “And I would have called you all insane.” He frowned. “Now. Now I just hope my family will understand just where my home is.” He smiled as he nuzzled her again. “That is wherever you and I shall live.”
“What is your home like? You speak about your nation, but never your home,” Lunar Fang said curiously.
Pensword paused, a little taken aback at her question. “So, finally asking about my home, eh?” He leaned into her neck a little, then sighed. “I come from a big family,” he admitted. “My mother and father, my grandparents passed away two years before I arrived in Equestria,” He paused and whinnied a little. “I miss my grand uncle. He and his brother, my grandfather, are my heros. They taught me my sense of duty and love of nation.” He leaned away. “I miss them. I hope I can see them again.” He smiled, “I have so many stories about my family and hometown. Any more questions?”
“What was the area like? What did you enjoy doing?”
“My home? Well, we had a semi river flowing through our area. We lived a few miles north of the third largest city in the state. The area is beautiful all year long. The town is historic. Downtown we have a drug store, a mercantile store, the Town Hall (that’s been in the same building since it was built out of the stone from a quarry near the city in eighteen hundred and eighty eight), the police station, which has been around since eighteen ninety, and two fire stations, the historic one with some museum trucks and the new station finished in nineteen hundred and eighty six.” Pensword laughed. “As for what I loved doing? Why, taking visible tourists and leading impromptu history tours of the Downtown. I got so good at it the mayor made me an official city appointed historian. I also loved putting my brother into the original jail house for three hours after he wrecked one of my model ships. That is a story in and of itself for how I could do that.” He stared out into the room, his eyes distant as memories of home welled up inside of him.
“Tell me.” Lunar smiled, gently stroking his mane with a hoof “We have some time yet. And it seems we’ve never gotten to just sit and talk.”
“Okay, okay. Well, in 1988 the mayor and police chief of the town realized that some of the laws, if we were to take them seriously, would cause the entire town to spend at least a day in the local jail. They also did not want to lose the right to hold their own law breakers in their own city jail. So, they came up with a fund raiser and a means to turn the jail into a tourist attraction. For a dollar an hour you can put yourself or a friend or family member behind the historic bars. Let’s see. I put my brother in jail for breaking my models, and my mother after three years followed through on her threat about my talking about the Titanic. I got three hours in the dungeon, or basement cells.” He laughed at the memory. “When you and I return, I think my aunt is going to follow through with four hours of jail time. She swore she’d do that to anyone who eloped in the family and I eloped with you in technicality.” He sighed. “I just wish Mountainside Falls was still, well, standing. Would have been nice to have family meet family.”
“You still have me and River,” she said gently.
“Yep, and I will do everything in my power to keep you safe and sound. Which includes traveling into the heart of an enemy I do not know anymore.”
Shrial sat before Kalima as the old one reached for a small wooden box etched with gold. The leg had healed nicely and Nurse Red Heart had finally given permission for her to check out of the hospital and return to New Unity.
“Old one … what’s in the box?” Shrial asked.
“A gift for you to wear on your wedding day,” Kalima said, smiling. A golden orange glow emanated from the container as she opened the ornately carved lid. “My mate hunted these for me to give to our children when their time came to marry. Seeing as Grif has adopted me as his mother, it seems only appropriate that I present this to my future daughter in law.” Ever so carefully, Kalima reached in with her talons, retracting them to reveal a beautiful orange feather edged with gold trimming.
“Is that-?”
“A phoenix feather, yes. Very rare and very valuable. I do not know the tradition in your time, but back in my day, for a gryphoness to wear one to the wedding promised great fortune, enduring beauty, and much posterity. I wish you to take this, Shrial, and to keep it with you always as a reminder of who you are. We are family now.”
“Kalima-.”
“No buts, no excuses, child.” She chuckled then. “Humor an old bird, won’t you?” And with a speed belying her age, Kalima immediately wove a golden thread through the feather’s base, effectively tying it in place before knotting it around the young warrior’s neck. “Now you have a new beginning. It’s a good start for the bridal necklace.”
Shrial did not know what to say. The feather felt warm and light against her chest, glowing dimly to accent the red of her own feathers.
“And so the thread of fate begins to be bound, even as you two shall be forever on the winds.”
Shrial brought a taloned hand up to her chest, careful not to mar this priceless gift. “... Thank you, Kalima.” And then Shrial did something she had never done before. She went up and hugged the old bird. “Thank you,” she whispered as the stubborn tears fell. The old one’s look was distant as she gazed ahead. A light and playful breeze came in from the south, smelling of fresh mountain dew, green grass, and wildflowers. She smiled then and nodded her head as she returned the affections in kind.
“Come now, child. We have a wedding to plan.”
“Thanks again for coming to this.” Grif looked at Pensword and Lunar Fang. “I’m actually a little nervous right now.”
Pensword raised an eyebrow. “What is making you nervous?” He asked as he looked around the garden. It would be dark soon. “Sorry,” he added a moment later. “Just a little on edge. I am getting used to Gryphons around New Unity, but I am still struggling to forgive them for what happened a thousand years ago,” he said as they moved towards a dining room already prepped for dinner.
Lunar Fang smiled as she hummed a little tune. “Also, thank you for trusting us with whatever it is you are wanting to show or tell us tonight.”
“One side of me was only prepared to have to do this kinda thing once. The other didn’t figure I’d ever have an opportunity to do this, so it’s kinda canceling out into nerves,” Grif said. “So you guys remember. My name is Odis and I am one of Grif’s servants. We have that covered?”
“Of course, Odis,” Lunar Fang replied with a sly smile. “However, Pensword might have some trouble,” she said, chuckling as she took a sidelong glance at her mate.
“I will call you Odis, but you better be prepared for a little bit of a cold air. I do not like any Gryphons from the Imperial Lands,” Pensword responded truthfully. “I shall see what happens as this meeting continues.”
Lunar Fang smiled and kissed the base of Pensword’s ear before turning to Grif, or “Odis.” “Just make sure to be the one to explain why you have two ponies in your company tonight.”
A knock at the door signalled the guest’s arrival. Grif took a few deep breaths before making his way to the door and opening it for the blue gryphoness. “Hello, Swift Feather,” he greeted her.
She smiled and inclined her head towards him. “Odis, how are you doing?” She looked, confused at the ponies who stood behind him. “I didn’t know we were going to have guests.”
“Yes, well Grif was busy so he asked me if I’d entertain Duke Pensword and Duchess Lunar Fang tonight,” Grif said, with a gesture to each Pony respectively.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you” Lunar Fang said as she bowed her head.
Pensword gave a curt nod, his muzzle and face crunched in a thoughtful manner. “I have heard that name before.” He shook his head, trying to smile. “I am sorry to have imposed upon a date, but last minute events.”
“I hope you don’t mind,” Grif said sheepishly.
“Well, it is odd, but I guess I can’t really refuse now,” Swift Feather said, laughing nervously. “I’d rather not anger the new Lunar Court. But to answer your question, Milord, Swift Feather is a rather popular name in the Empire. She was a famous revolutionary; one of the first to advocate Gryphoness rights. Without gryphons like her, the empire never would have been able to finish the changes your friend Grif started.”
Grif pulled a chair out for her. “I’ve managed to get the chefs to prepare a fresh boar caught yesterday morning. I hope you don’t mind pork,” Grif said, looking around the table.
Pensword followed Grif’s example, making way for Lunar Fang with a respectable bow. “Well, I do not see a problem. Do you, my dear?” he asked her.
“Pork sounds fine,” Lunar Fang nodded as Grif raised the tray coverings revealing the cooked boar as well as a salad, mashed potatoes, and even a bit of hot gravy.
“It smells delicious, Odis. I can hardly wait to taste it,” Swift Feather said, licking her beak in anticipation.
“I believe it would be most appropriate to offer to your wife first,” Grif said, nodding to Pensword. “She needs to replace lost calories, after all.” He gave Lunar Fang a wink as he cut into the boar, placing a few cuts on her plate before serving Pensword, then Swift Feather, and lastly himself.
“I think between Pensword and Grif I get enough special treatment already.” Lunar Fang laughed, then looked to Swift Feather. “Grif is the godfather to our newborn. He takes the title quiet seriously, you see.”
“As any gryphon should. I’m sure she’ll be well taken care of. From what Odis has told me, Grif took the whole guard from New Unity to try to get into Ponyville at one point, isn’t that right?”
Pensword’s eyes widened. “Word spreads fast,” he muttered. “But yes, we pretty much did that. Seems we just had to wait.” He shook his head, blushing. “Still, how I acted there was not something I am thinking was the best course of action. I acted rashly and without a plan. Even great Commanders make mistakes when judgement is clouded.”
“What you did, you did out of love. Any true warrior would have done the same. I don’t care what other gryphons may think of you, Commander Pensword. You’ve certainly earned my respect, for what little that’s worth,” Swift Feather said as she ladled some gravy onto her boar.
“So odis has mentioned that you are an athlete,” Lunar Fang said, breaking the silence. “I take it you will be representing Gryphonia in the games?”
“Yeah. I’m a flyer. Aerial relay to be precise,” Swift Feather said, immediately brightening. “I love sports of any kind normally, but there’s just something special about the air for me. I can never get enough.”
“I’ve heard the gryphons’ aerial relay team is quite good. And apparently your fencer, Alegorio Grindtalon, is the favorite to win in the fencing tournament.” Lunar Fang laughed. “Though I suppose we can’t call it a fair test of skill with odis here out of the spotlight.” Lunar Fang smiled at Grif and nodded. “Few ponies or gryphons could match his wit with the sword.”
Pensword slowly nodded. “I was hoping to ask Grif if I could use Odis to help teach his God Daughter when she is older.”
Grif looked down at his food. “Well, I’m not that good,” he said. “Surely nothing to the duchess here. I’ve heard she can swing the blade quite well herself.”
“I can handle myself, yes. But i don’t have the raw skill that comes from being taught in the old ways. There is nothing quite like the old touch in swordplay.”
“And I was denied that full training due to my mixed heritage,” Pensword said with a sigh. “Still, I think with the skill in this room, it could be a most interesting time comparing notes.”
“I would love to be able to see that one day. I’m not too bad with the blade myself. And it’s always fun to spar with someone new,” Swift Feather said, smiling.
Pensword brightened for the first time in the conversation. “Oh? Well, how about against somepony skilled with the wing blade?” He asked, eyebrow raised as he stared her down.
“Is that an invitation or a challenge, Duke Pensword?” Swift Feather asked, mirroring the pegasus with an added smirk of amusement as she lay her beak on her hands.
“A little of both. I think I should convey that Commander Pensword is not afraid of Gryphons,” Pensword responded, knowing full well that he would be heading into Gryphonia later on. It never hurt to start rebuilding a reputation.
“I never thought you were. But I certainly wouldn’t mind. A sparring session always helps to loosen me up after a long, stressful day. What do you say to around eight o clock?”
“That is only if Odis approves. I do not wish to take away from his time with a fair chick as yourself,” he responded with a chuckle, trying to tease the two. “I understand that the training course will take you out of Canterlot about the same time Grif will be taking Odis out as well. Maybe if you end up near Ponyville in the future you could call on us?”
“I’ll be back for the games if you’d prefer to delay it. I won’t hold it against you,” She said, winking.
“Actually, tomorrow I was hoping I could cook for you,” Grif told her. “I won’t be able to see you again on the day after as I’ll be leaving Canterlot soon after Grif’s final meeting. And … well, I’d like to make the last night special,” he said, blushing for the first time in a long time.
“Special, you say? Hmm. Now that does sound interesting. Any preparations I’d need to make for it?” She asked, hitting Odis with a playful stare.
“Just show up.” He smiled. “Everything else will fall into place.”
Hammer Strike lifted his head once again, looking away from the campfire, which now burned blue as he kept it going. He made sure to keep alert, taking in their surroundings with military precision before he sighed and continued thinking to himself. At least until he heard someone moving around in one of the tents.
Scootaloo walked into the blue light, frightened and very tired. The filly didn’t even notice him at first.
“You’re up late,” Hammer Strike commented as he looked at her. “What’s got you up?”
Scootaloo jumped in surprise. “Nothing!” she said quickly.
“It certainly doesn’t seem like nothing,” He said, looking at her with a raised brow before he shrugged. “But if you won’t tell me I won’t bother you about it.”
Scootaloo sat quietly for a few minutes before letting out a heavy sigh. “You won’t tell Rainbow Dash will you?”
“I’ll keep quiet about it,” He responded with a small smirk.
“... I’m having nightmares.” Scootaloo sighed, ashamed as she stared into the flames.
“The stories getting to you?” He questioned. “Or is something else on your mind?”
“The stories. I keep seeing the Olden Pony.”
“The Olden Pony, in search of an aged horseshoe,” he said before shaking his head. “Scary stories. Tools meant to strike fear into the hearts of children, and sometimes used to make them clean up their ways, depending on who you ask.” Giving a quick glance at Scootaloo Hammer looked back to the fire and willed it to expand a little, warming up the clearing and dispelling the shadows.
“What's it like not being afraid?” Scootaloo asked.
“What do you mean?”
“You're never afraid of anything. What's it like?”
“That’s where you’re wrong,” Hammer replied. “Everyone has fears. Everyone is afraid of something. I just don’t fear stories that are nothing but fiction.”
“You're afraid of something?” she asked
“I fear things I have no control over. But I can’t do anything about that. So I deal with it in any way I can. I feared losing my friends to beings stronger than us. To counter that fear I work hard to ensure I can stand up to whatever it is.” He gave her a small smile. “Everyone has fear. Even if they won’t admit it.”
“Even Rainbow Dash?” Scootaloo asked, her eyes wide.
“Even her,” Hammer replied. “But it’s what we do about those fears that define us. Whether we lock up, scared of it, or if we work towards standing up to it instead.”
“That makes a lot of sense.”
“So what do you plan to do? Be afraid of a story, or stand up to a nightmare and be victorious?”
“I…” the filly was interrupted by a yawn. “I think I’m going to sleep,” she said, smiling at him. “Thank you.”
“No problem. It’s what I’m here for.” He chuckled lightly as he let the fire die down, the light dimming with it. “Rest easy. You still have plenty of hours before day.”
Grif looked over everything again, double checking the suit Rarity had made for him some time ago to make certain there would be no sign of his trademark chest feathers. The design was a fairly simple one, just a regular black suit with a deep red shirt beneath it complimented by a black tie.
Carefully, he looked over the lay of the table, making sure it was still even and the food beneath the covers was hot and ready to go. The week had been a mixture of boring days of gryphonesses who were either too stuck on their own self image or too afraid of conflict to interest him, and wonderful nights with Swift Feather. Admittedly their relationship was moving a lot faster then he would have prefered, but he was enjoying it. It had been a week since they met and they had been together every night. They walked through the gardens, talked about her sports careers and battles he had been in. She was a very interesting gryphoness. Not competitive to the point of being aggressive, but at the same point she had kept her views and opinions clear, even holding her own against Grif on several occasions in debate. He hated to admit it, but he was smitten.
Sadly, tomorrow, after meeting with this ‘Lady Swift Feather Stormtalon,’ he’d be catching the late train back to Ponyville and then on to New Unity. He couldn’t afford to be away for much longer. So he had decided to make tonight special. Lunar Fang had managed to get him connected with some fine venison from a night guard and Celestia had allowed him to set the table up in the more private part of the gardens. All that remained was to wait for the gryphoness in question to appear.
Swift Feather walked into the gardens and right away Grif could see that she had barely made it on time for their date as she stood there, breathless. She paused, taking a moment to regain her composure before she smiled towards Grif. “I promised I’d make it. And a gryphoness never goes back on her word. Sorry if I’m not in the best gear. Practice got out late again so I had to fly straight over.” Her expression remained neutral as she eyed the gryphon with an analytical gaze.
Grif smiled as he got up and moved to the other side, sliding the seat away for her. “Sometimes we must make sacrifices in life. The choice is not always the easiest. You're speaking to a gryphon who has had to decide who lives and who dies. Between being here on time and being dolled up, you chose to be here on time; and I respect that.” He gestured to the seat with an inviting smile.
Swift feather returned it with one of her own as she sat down, tilting her head to the side. “Decides who lives and who dies? So, I finally learn more about your mysterious position with the new clan. I’m guessing you’re a Mercenary. Do you hunt Black Tips who defy the laws?”
“As I said, I am a warrior,” Grif said. “A mercenary still receives general training. They also fight for the power of the almighty beak, or bit. I fight because my code tells me it’s right,” he said as he took his own seat. “I’ll be happy to discuss it while we eat.”
“Very well,” she replied as she picked up a fork and started on the appetizer in front of her. “I’d rather not be asking all the questions. Do you have any for me?” She asked, a playful glint shining in her eyes, daring the warrior on.
“I’d like to know a little more about your family,” he admitted. “And possibly how your sports career started,” he said as he began to feast on his own appetizer. But a gentlebird always offers about himself before requesting information”
“Of course. I guess a trade is fair then?” She asked with a smile, wanting to dig a little deeper into this mysterious Gryphon. It was almost like a game, a thrill akin to tracking down prey. She liked that. “Well, my family and my track work go talon in talon. I started the track career to rebel against my family and their business.”
Grif nodded. “They didn’t appreciate your devotion to the teachings of the empress?” he asked taking a bite of his food.
She smiled a little. “You could say that. Still, after I started winning medals and trophies they started to sing a different tune.” She sighed. “I don’t know which is worse. Them hating the idea of me in sports, or trying to use it towards their own ends in business. I’d rather not say what they do just yet,” she said, looking down at her plate as she flipped a tiny sausage with her fork.
“I see.” Grif nodded. “As for myself, well, much like our culture many years ago, war has been my life. Battles wherever I am needed for whoever I would call my lord at the time. I only encountered the Bladefeather clan after Grif’s recent return. I actually did a fair share of battle during the changeling invasion,” he said, eying her carefully. Things were getting a little too close to home, so he changed tactics. “You must have quite the ability for the emperor to choose you,” he said before taking a sip of his drink. He’d managed to find a reasonably weak raspberry cordial for himself and both a red and white wine for Swift Feather as tradition dictated.
She slowly sipped the white wine as she looked over her meal. The appetizer was nearly finished and it would soon be time to start on the main course. Odis’ guard was down. Time for another question. “Where do you come from?” she asked. “You know I hail from the main Gryphonian Landmass to the East, but I know nothing of your own origins.”
“I was actually born in the Northern Isles,” he admitted. “Or rather, that’s where I remember being. I never knew my mother.” He shrugged. “My father died when I was just out of my fledgling years. As I said to you at Pony Joe’s, my father trained me for combat since I could walk. The knife, the bow, and the blade.”
She frowned. “I’m sorry to hear that. Though from what I can see, your father taught you well before he passed.”
“I’d like to think so. Saved me a bunch of times on the battlefield. Quality over quantity, as they say.” Grif smiled “So have you dallied in combat at all, or simply atheletics? Not that there’s anything wrong with that,” he added.
“Oh, I can outfly and air punch any Gryphon or Gryphoness that tries to tango with me,” She replied with a smirk. “I’ve had a little weapon training, but not much compared to what you know.”
“Few gryphons these days can say they’ve been as well trained. … I’m sorry this is going to be our last night together for a while,” he said solemnly.
“Yes, I know. I am having to travel. After tomorrow my training will take me away from you, although I hope that we can at least exchange notes after my last meet? Say about Six? If you don’t mind meeting me in the Castle, there’s … something I need to tell you.”
“There is something I should come clean about as well,” he admitted as they finished the main course. He got to his feet and approached, moving to kiss her talon again.
She smirked, and with the kind of timing only a female well skilled in the art could manage, she lifted his beak up at the last moment to share a far more intimate kiss.
Grif felt the shock as their beaks met, but quickly accepted it. The two embraced for a prolonged moment before he finally tore away to get some air. “Thank you,” he said, looking down at her. “No matter what happens, I’m going to keep that kiss close to my heart.”
She smiled. “As will I.” As she got up to leave she casually brushed his stomach with a wing, leaving him yet again with that same gentle teasing. Grif let out a pleased sigh as he watched her go. It took him a full quarter of an hour before he finally shook his head free and turned to begin cleaning up the remnants of the evening meal.
The next morning Grif sat in the room he had been given to meet with the emperor's cousins. For the past week he had been bored by each and every noble gryphoness, who were in truth not that different from pony nobles; all stuffed shirts and swelled heads. He sighed as he sat on the plush chair wearing the fancy military suit that had been Rarity’s one demand for making him the other designs without added flair. He sipped his coffee as he waited for the last lady gryphoness to arrive so he could get the torture over with once and for all.
“Now presenting Gryphoness Swift Feather.” A guard announced the first test in Grif’s game. To see their reactions to being announced with just their name without their titles. A moment later, dressed in a dress and looking more than a little out of place, Swift Feather walked into the room. She paused and looked at Grif.
Grif found his voice caught in his throat “Swift … Feather?” he asked.
“Odis? What are you doing…” her eyes widened as it clicked. “You’re Grif?” She asked in shock. She paused and blushed. “You are not who I expected you to be.”
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t want to have you either fawning over me or trying to kill me based on my name. I take it you are Swift Feather Stormtalon, last of the Stormtalon Clan, and the emperor's ninth cousin?”
“That is correct,” She replied. “Also, Storm Feather, athlete of the Gryphons and captain of the Air Relay team trying out for the Equestrian Games.” Yet again the pride flashed at the title she had earned for herself, rather than the one she had been born into. She blushed violently. “Well, ask the questions. We should stick to decorium even if we might have an inkling of where it leads already.”
“To Tartarus with decorum,” Grif said. “I’ve had seven days of your relatives and other gryphonesses shoving decorum down my throat,” he said, turning to the wall. “It’s cool. You can go,” he said as a changeling dropped from the wall and changed into a pegasus stallion before heading out the window. “A friend. He’s here to help me keep my head. I promise I’ll explain it later. Just don’t question it, okay?”
“What is a clan leader without a few secrets?” She asked, shrugging. “So… if we are throwing decorum out the window, where do we proceed? I believe we have done a little courtship already.”
“Well, this is a surprise.” Grif smiled as he pulled out a parchment. “It doesn’t have to be an unpleasant one. Your cousin gets the blood tie he wanted, I’m guessing you get your parents off your back, and I am sure I can adjust the terms on this contract so as not to interfere with your career. That is, if you are not adverse to the idea…?” he looked at her questioning with his blue eyes.
“Well I wouldn’t mind having the wedding after the games. Sounds like a nice way to retire to the local Equestrian circuit. And I have no objections to you. So the question now is what do we do with a whole afternoon if we’re already finished with the meeting?”
“Well, after we get this betrothal agreement taken care of,” he said, rolling his eyes with a groan. “Paperwork. We’ll technically be engaged. Actually, there is one more thing we have to talk about. You realise I’m starting a clan and clan law says I need to… have at least three gryphonesses to create three separate bloodlines. Is this going to bother you? Honestly, I can promise you will never be last in my heart. I would not guarantee you would be first as I hope to hold all three equal if possible, but I can assure you will never be less than any other gryphoness.”
She smiled. “I’ll make sure never to have a cub when the others do. Let’s just say I prepared for this. I just didn’t expect you would take the feelings of all the females into account. You’re definitely one in a million, Grif.”
“Then,” Grif smiled as he quickly drew up the agreement. It would only need to be in gryphic due to the consensual nature of it. He signed it with a flourish before offering her the pen. “Well then, Swift Feather, will you marry me?” he asked, smiling.
She took the pen, signed her name with a flourish and took Grif in for a passionate kiss. “Does that answer your question?”
Grif smiled, leaning in to reciprocate. “Perhaps we should move this into the adjoining room?” he asked.
“I concur,” She replied with a giggle.
As Swift Feather walked off into the next room Grif smiled before grabbing another piece of parchment and writing something. Taking a cord, he hung a “Do Not Disturb” sign on the door and the contract on the table. Then, entering the room himself, the two would not be seen again till late that night.
… Signing In …
[Omni Kitsune April 22nd 2014 6:03 P.M.]: “Hey Otter, I’m back from the mission. Hit me up with a note sometime when you get on.”
...
[Omni Kitsune April 22nd 2014 6:06 P.M.]: “Hey Taze, what’s up? Just wanted to let you know I’m back. I missed you guys alot. Send me a note when you get on, okay?”
…
[Omni Kitsune April 22nd 2014 6:36 P.M.]: “Hey Shawn, what’s up? … I can’t seem to contact the others. Is everything going alright? Send me a note when you get on. Oh yeah, I’m back from the mission now. :P Can’t wait to have fun with you guys again.
…
Omni frowned on his bed as he stared at his new computer. An identical bed lay to his right with a desk attached to the wall waiting between. The fan ran overhead, causing a slight air current to flow through the room as he gazed around his new apartment. His blonde hair was cut short, thinning at the top as he lay a hand on his stomach, pondering what could have happened to his friends with furrowed eyebrows. This was not the reunion he was expecting. Continuing to wonder, he stared into his reflection on the screen, watching his light blue eyes. They always fascinated him. One day they seemed darker, another lighter. And they always seemed to have flecks of gold hidden somewhere inside.
“What was God thinking when he made me?” he wondered, then laughed as he pulled up another chat.
[Ryu April 22nd 2014 6:41 P.M.]: ATTACKLES! We missed you.
[Omni Kitsune April 22nd 2014 6:41 P.M.]: Heehee. So I noticed. What’s up?
[Ryu April 22nd 2014 6:42 P.M.]: Nothin’ much. We had to break the group up though. :(
[Omni Kitsune April 22nd 2014 6:43 P.M.]: YOU WHAT?! :O
[Ryu April 22nd 2014 6:43 P.M.]: It’s not what you think.
[Omni Kitsune April 22nd 2014 6:46 P.M.]: What happened?
[Ryu April 22nd 2014 6:47 P.M.]: … Taze and Vulpix just … up and left. shrugs
[Omni Kitsune April 22nd 2014 6:47 P.M.]: What do you mean “just up and left?”
[Ryu April 22nd 2014 6:48 P.M.]: They’re gone. Stopped coming on about six months after you left. They had a hand in just about every story we were working on. So without them, we didn’t really have much choice.
[Omni Kitsune April 22nd 2014 6:48 P.M.]: … I gotta go.
[Omni Kitsune April 22nd 2014 6:50 P.M.]: I didn’t spend over twelve months in the field praying for you guys just for it all to go to waste. I’m finding them. End of story. Tell Wrath I say hi. Night Ryu.
With that typed and sent, Omni signed out, immediately reaching to the desk on his right for his cell phone. Flicking open the screen to the touch pad, he skillfully navigated the menu to his contacts list, scrolling down until he highlighted the name “MATTHEW.” With a decisive press of the button, the phone started ringing for all of one second before a voice picked up.
“Hello.”
“Vulpix! Thank goodness you’re-”
“You’ve reached the personal voice mailbox of Matthew Conner, I am currently unavailable to take your phone call, so please leave your name, number, and a brief message so I can get back in touch with you as quickly as possible. Have a good day. Good bye.” The machine picked up from there, going through the usual rhetoric of how to leave a phone number, etc. Groaning, Omni rolled his eyes as he waited patiently for the beep.
“Hey, Vulpix. What’s up? It’s Omni calling. Just wanted to make sure everything’s doing alright for you. I just got back from my mission and I heard about what happened with you leaving the group suddenly. Is everything alright? Give me a call when you get this, okay? I want to catch up. I guess I’ll see you when I see you. Bye.” Omni sighed, then tried Taze’s number. A dud once again, albeit with a much more entertaining voicemail.
“Hey, this is Taze. If you don’t know who that is then you got the wrong number. If you don’t know what to do, WHERE THE HECK HAVE YOU BEEN LIVING? Anyway, I’ll get back to you… eventually.” Following the beep, Omni spoke once again. finding it a bit strange Taze’s voice mail had room for a message. Before he’d left, Taze hadn’t checked his mail in over a year, let alone cleaned it out.
“Hey Taze, it’s Omni. Just calling to let ya know I’m back. Ryu tells me you’ve been gone a long time. Just wanted to make sure everything’s okay. Call me,” he said, finishing up with yet another sigh as he severed the connection.
Last, he tried for Shawn, not really expecting much better though.
“Hello, this is Shawn. I’ve either let my phone die, or I’m busy at the moment. I’ll try to listen to your message as soon as possible.” Omni once again left a message, then plopped back on to his bed.
“Guys, wherever you are, whatever you’re doing, I hope you’re all safe and happy.” He sighed, stood up, then got to his knees. Folding his arms on his bed, he began to pray as tears fell on his sheets and clung to his glasses. “... please watch over my friends. Let them be well. And please, let me talk with them soon.”
Morning on the third day of the campout found the seven ponies on a short hike, eventually leading them across a twisted road over foothills. They finally came to what seemed to be their main destination. From miles up in the sky liquid rainbow fell to the ground in a shimmering waterfall. Standing at its foot, the six stared up in awe. Hammer Strike maintained his flat expression.
“I call sister teams! Last one to make it to the falls is a moldy carrot!” Sweetie Belle called out excitedly.
“Ugh,” Rarity groaned. “If you insist.” Even as she spoke her pace began to move from a slow stride to a mild trot to a full blown charge. “It is so on!” she said as the three groups charged off.
Hammer Strike simply rolled his eyes and gave a smirk as he continued at his own pace towards their destination.
Rainbow Dash and Scootaloo shot into the sky with Rainbow using a hoof to lift the smaller pegasus. The others in the group found themselves at the foot of the falls enjoying the scenery.
“My, it certainly is beautiful.” Rarity gazed at them in awe
“Certainly is,” Hammer Strike replied as he looked around. “So this is the final destination?” He asked aloud.
“Yessiree,” Applejack nodded. “You can never get tired of seeing it no matter how often you come here,” she said in her country accent.
“So much inspiration.” Rarity sighed. “I can’t wait to return to the boutique.”
“I, on the other hoof, can wait to return to New Unity,” Hammer Strike replied. “Then again, I might have more papers to sign now…”
Pensword smiled as he looked over at Grif. “Well, this is fun.” He let out a small chuckle. “That will be…” he paused as he looked around. “Uh… I just thought I heard my cell phone ringing, but the battery died. And I left it back in New Unity.” He shook his head. “That was crazy.”
“You know, between the three of us we probably have some decent computing power. We could rig some sort of small laptop or something,” Grif noted.
“Yeah.” He paused. “Oh, and I have the entire Apollo eleven program on my phone. It is crazy what computing power is in our pockets.” He was so glad the train car was empty. He hadn’t been able to talk technology in ages. “Imagine how the world will look when we get home for a visit.”
“Who knows how long we…” Grif was cut off as something loudly slammed against the outer wall. “Well, Derpy’s here with the mail.”
Pensword paused and quickly moved to the window to open it it as he poked his head out. “What? Derpy what are you doing? You can deliver the mail to New Unity!” Pensword shouted over the wind as he tried to find the mail mare.
A familiar blonde maned pegasus suddenly came up flying as fast as she could. “Priority one letter!” she said somewhat strained as she held out an envelope with a weird looking green seal that resembled a treble clef and a crystalline ribbon.
Pensword blinked in shock as he took the letter from Depry. “You take care of yourself. You can land on the observation deck to rest if you want.” Derpy simply saluted and flew off as fast as her wings could carry her. Pensword looked to the letter in his hoof. He paused as he blinked. “Oh my. It seems to be a letter from the Crystal Empire.” He sat down and immediately proceeded to read.
After a time, he looked up to face his companion. “It seems that we have our prayers answered again. The Gryphon Empire has asked the Crystal Empire to reconnect, and Bellacosa, my little Cosy, is being sent over there to help with reestablishing contact. He wishes for me and a few of my choosing to go with him to the Empire.” He sighed and shook his head. “It seems Cosy wishes to remind them that he is going to arrive in a stance of power. So you and the Gryphon Slayers get to come along. And all on the Empire’s payroll to boot.”
“Well that's really handy for us,” Grif said. “Cuts down on a lot of prep work.”
“I know.” Pensword said as a small smile crossed his muzzle. “Well, Derpy is on the observation deck.” he sighed. “So, should I still bring my flags?”
“I’d say pack a few, but don’t bring them out unless it’s an emergency. It might make us seem weak if we need to resort to gifts.”
“Very well.” Pensword nodded. “I still think I will bring the flag of the Emperor’s Talon. I also think we should have about two months. The envoy will arrive in Ponyville, then finish in Canterlot. From there they plan to take an airship towards the Gryphon Empire.” Pensword paused in thought as he put a hoof to his muzzle. “You think we can buy an airship for New Unity while there?”
“Yes, we can.” Grif nodded “But be discreet about it. We don’t want all our eggs in one basket. When we get back write Bellacosa and make sure he gets fitted for armor and starts training on how to walk in it.”
“He already has started to be fitted and is planning that. He asked that I help him while on the airship ride to the Empire with tactics. He desires to be trained so that he may be the next to command the military.” Pensword laughed. “I think he is more excited to be spending time with, as he put it, “An awesome guardian.”
“You got yourself a fan.” Grif soon joined in his friend’s laughter.
“Well, I am not surprised.” Pensword responded with a serious expression. His pale eyes seemed distant as the cries of the dead rang once more in his ears; the ghosts of crystal ponies past. “After what we all went through, we, I think we bonded.” He looked to Grif. “Did I do the right thing giving them space to be a family again?”
“Cadence needed the time.” Grif put a claw on his friend’s shoulder. “It was the right thing to do.”
“Thank you. I am happy that I am not the only one to think so.” The dark navy blue Pegasus smiled as he settled into the seat. “So, I guess we wait till the train arrives in Ponyville?” he paused for a moment. “There goes Derpy, flying off with her mail pouch. I guess she got her third or second wind to carry on with her route.” he paused. “Or did she? Uh ... she’s coming back this way. I think she has a letter for you this time.”
Grif opened the window. As Derpy came close he reached out and grabbed the letter as the pegasus flew by. “Thanks, Derpy!” he shouted.
Grif took a look at the envelope, one of those large official looking ones complete with string tying it closed. “I think I’ll wait till we get back,” Grif said, storing the letter in his bag. “So in the interim I want you to have your equipment and the slayers going with you to go through a full refit from the ground up. You haven’t upgraded your arsenal since the war and those wing blades need a good bit of maintenance,” he said, tapping on the numerous nicks and dents littering the weapons in question.
“Alright. We shall do that when we get back to New Unity. Heh, I hope we get the use the new toys Lord Hammer Strike has created. I want the best of the best against the Gryphon Empire.”
“Prepare for war, but intend peace,” Grif reminded him. “We’re not going to start a campaign this time.”
“Right, but we need to be ready to fight one if needed.” He pondered. “Do you think we can get Twilight to put a map of our world into the training modes on the newest war maps? That could work, maybe. They would be theoretical and nopony could take offense or claim an attempt at preparations for invasion into their kingdom or territory. You know, I think I like this idea.”
“Baby steps, my friend.” Grif smiled as he took note of the terrain. “Let’s get to Ponyville first.”
“True, true,” Pensword responded. “I always get ahead of myself in planning it seems. Well, I think I am going to let the train lull me to sleep for the rest of the way. Wake me up when we arrive. See you in Ponyville.” Then Pensword closed his eyes and slowly began to doze off.
The gryphon smiled as his friend was claimed by sleep. Moving to the opposite end of the car he disarmed. Laying his weapons before him in an orderly fashion he pulled out a whetstone, a rough cloth, and a small flask of oil. Then he set to work maintaining his weapons.
Pensword looked at the parchment and back up the small gravel path, then down at the parchment again. “We need to talk about a few things. Queen Me-Me.” Pensword paused and looked around the area. He could see that some trees had been uprooted recently, but at the same time, a garden appeared to have been planted or started. He ... did he see spikes and twine for future expansion? He paused as he heard a hoof step behind him. Spinning swiftly, he moved a hoof to pick up a nearby rock. He stopped entirely when he finally saw the pony in question. What he saw surprised him. “Doctor, what are you doing out here?”
The “doctor” stared at him, confused for a moment. Then, looking down, he seemed to clue in. “I’m sorry, Founder. I am using this disguise for my watch and did not realise it was somepony you knew well. Should I change forms?”
“No, no, it’s alright.” He hastily changed the subject. “So I was told to meet with Me-Me,” he said, showing the parchment. “Do you have a pony to take your place? I, I do not recognize the area and will need some assistance finding the hive.”
“Mother is sending down a guide as we speak.”
“Very well,” he paused. “So you all decided to make this area a garden?”
“Mother believes the foliage will serve the triple purpose of allowing us vegetables for variety, something we can sell should the hive require bits for any reason, and it also covers the entrance to the hive quite effectively.”
“I can tell. You have hidden it well,” he complimented. He paused as he heard hoof steps on the gravel. “I believe my guide is here.” He smiled. “Thank you for the chat, ‘Doc,’” he said with a wink to the changeling.
The lookout nodded as the rocks shifted to reveal a finely crafted tunnel. “Welcome, founder.” A new changeling peeked out. This one’s voice sounded female. Her eye`s were not the compound eyes of the changelings Matthew had known, but rather like an Equestrian’s eyes. “Mother sent me to guide you.”
“Lead on,” Pensword replied. He waited until the the tunnel entrance was sealed again. Then they continued. The unusual pair walked a ways in silence before he finally spoke again. “Uh, question. What um ... what happened to your eyes? You are the first Changeling I have seen that has, well, eyes more like regular ponies than what I have seen in the past.” Pensword hoped that being called founder would give him the ability to ask a question like that.
“Mother has decided that we should be more individual. She hopes that within a generation or two she'll be able to give us manes like the equestrians have,” she explained happily as she led him through the tunnels, turning several times into new offshoots he didn't remember from his last visit.
“Well, if you want to protect your hive, this is certainly a new way of doing it. I think I am lost already,” Pensword admitted as he continued to follow the Changeling. “So, what are the plans of the hive? Or shall I wait for my meeting with Me-Me?”
The changeling shrugged. “We're planning for the next generation. Our current collecting strategies are doing well enough that mother is ready to expand our numbers.”
“Oh?” Pensword replied with a raised eyebrow. “Well, that is good news. What is this collecting strategy?” he asked. “This time, I do want to know.”
“We have, through the help of Grif, acquired recent information regarding missing ponies who were abusive or distant from their families. If the pony is missing more than five months we send a collector out. The family gets the missing pony back in a much kinder and warm capacity and the hive thrives for it. Win-win,” she explained.
“And what if you find the missing pony?” He asked. “What if the missing pony shows up seven months later or a year later?” He moved a hoof to his chest. “I am currently missing back home,” he admitted, a frown on his muzzle.
“We knock the pony unconscious as peacefully as possible and then have the drone suffer some sort of accident. The pony gets switched in the hospital and suffers amnesia,” she explained.
“Ah,” Pensword replied. “Let’s hope to Faust that the returning pony becomes kinder,” He muttered. “That is a good means to gather love, but I would recommend you think of other ways to also gather love, just in case it doesn’t work out.” he paused, then frowned. “Still, it is a good means of trying to put together a broken family.” He looked to the Changeling. He had an idea, but he would hold it for Me-Me in the the heart of the Borg.
“It isn't a perfect strategy, but it serves us for now.” A few minutes later they came to the edge of the central chamber. “Mother is just through here”
“Thank you,” Pensword replied. He paused and took a deep breath before he stepped forward and into the main chamber. His eyes roved the walls to see what had changed and what might have stayed the same since the last time he’d visited.
The chamber had been made larger and was now surrounded by large crystalline formations glowing a cherry red color. Me-Me smiled at him as she approached. “My children seem to have taken to calling you The Founder.”
“I have noticed. May I ask why?” Pensword asked as he continued to assess the changes. “And what are these formations?” he asked using a wing to point to the crystalline formations. Matthew’s mind translated this as the warp core of the colony.
“They are how I have chosen to store love that is not immediately consumed. They will keep it safe until it is required.” She laughed. “I would guess that were it not for the three of you there would be no hive. Therefore, my children have chosen to recognise you as their founder. ”
Pensword looked pensively at Me-Me. “Very well, I can accept that.” He looked around the chamber once more. “This is not the nursery. What room is this? Are you about to build a throne chamber for yourself?”
“I am not making a throne,” she responded somewhat agitatedly. After a moment she sighed “I am sorry. Ch…. my mother, used the throne to put herself away from the rest of us. It was her way of reminding us we were lesser than she is. I don't want my children to see me that way.”
“Whoever said you would have to spend your day there?” Pensword asked. “We have to create a throne room for New Unity, but do you see us spending our waking hours looking down on the subjects?” He shook his head, but Me-Me cut him off with a sharp hoof stamp.
“No,” she said adamantly. She shook her head “I have decided. I don't want a throne in this hive.”
“Sorry,” Pensword replied with a slight smile. “Just trying to help. Still, what room are we in? I do not see the green glowing pillar so, I was right guessing this is not the nursery, right?”
“Last time you were here the nursery was here to protect it, given it was just the two of us. Now that there are more the nursery could be moved to a more suitable chamber. This is where we store our food.”
“Very nice. May I suggest one small thing?” he said, raising a wing. “Maybe a room for meetings?” He offered. “For the eventual future. Someday you shall be meeting with those outside of the three, maybe four of us. So that is all I shall say. You run your colony, your hive. I am not a part of it, nor one to run it.” He gawked as he saw two more changelings enter and leave. “Just how big is the hive now Me-Me?”
“We have several larger chambers and 13 smaller ones with about four miles worth of tunnels connecting them together,” she explained. “We've been doing a lot of excavation.”
“Oh wow.” Pensword replied in shock. “And from the sounds of your voice, you plan on growing the hive even further.” He paused once more to gather a few thoughts. “How many changelings? And how many scouts do you have at the moment?” He just hoped that he was wrong with his feelings here. “Chrysalis could very well be out there, alive and wanting revenge.”
“Mother has the disadvantage of a famine currently. She expanded beyond her means faster then she could grow them.” Me-Me smiled at Pensword. “I had a better teacher.”
“You flatter me, even if my form did change.” He paused as he remembered something. “Did Crystalis, did you and Mutatio … well, did you sense my life force? Because at times you sure acted strangely what with her laughing when I implied living to see her defeated. Also, I am curious as to the note you had delivered to me, what is it that you wish to discuss with me?”
“It… wasn't our place to say,” she said, looking away. “I asked you here because there is something you need to see. My tunnelers have found something … interesting.”
“Really?” Pensword asked, deciding to not follow his first line of questioning further. “Well, what did you find?”
“We don't know,” Me-Me told him blatantly. “We can't identify who made it, what it does or what it`s made from. That’s why we called you.”
He looked at her. “And you think I will?” He smiled. “Well, show this mystery to me. I am interested.”
Me-Me lead him through the tunnels, the walk was actually pretty quick. Me-Me seemed able to walk the tunnels without even looking. The tunneling became less refined and more rough the farther they went until they came to a spot where several changelings were working carefully, gradually moving the black earth away from a large sharp looking object jutting up from the ground. “The drones tell me it is at least 5 meters long and they have yet to discern the breadth of it.”
Pensword considered the artifact. “Well, where you found it long, what happens at the edge?” he asked as he moved towards one of the edges. Thanks to the glowing goo the Changelings were placing around the work area he could tell the object had a black sheen to it. He ran a hoof over it. “Smooth. Unnaturally so,” he commented.
“We've been able to determine some sort of energy inside of it, but until we excavate the entire object there is no way to be sure what it is. I brought you here to ask if you think it would safe to continue or if we should bury this again and leave it lost.”
“I want to say it is safe. But get weapons down here just in case,” Pensword answered. A buzz of excitement filled the room coming from the main dig site. In the hole, a changeling triumphantly held a new object aloft. It appeared to be some type of faded white circle. As Pensword’s eyes continued to adjust an emblem slowly became more visible. “Okay… I really do want weapons now. I will get flintlocks down here even.”
“Why?” One of the changelings asked. “It is the red cross of medicine in our world.”
“Yes, but why bury a medical lab or building down here? Forgotten?” he asked, his mind racing over the horrors of the modern world from plagues to the CDC to Zombies.
“Let’s just say that sometimes burying a medical lab is the only thing to contain dangerous materials. Proceed with caution. Still, at the same time, the knowledge that may be behind this metal could be a boon to all of Equestria, if not the world.”
“So we should proceed cautiously and be prepared for a fight?” Me-Me nodded. “I’ll have weapons down here immediately. Should I keep you updated on the excavation?”
“Let me get something from up top. I’ll be back in a little while. You may continue to excavate, but whatever you do, do not open it up until I return.”
“I’ll call you a guide again and make sure she stays with you this time.” Me-Me nodded. “Thank you for your advice in this matter. We shall act accordingly.”
“Very well.” Pensword responded.
An hour later Pensword returned with the guide by his side. He was decked out in full military armor and wing blades. He also held some strange metal spheres at his side. He could see that they had yet to find the breadth of the box, but they had dug down at least three average pony heights down. He looked around the outer edge of what they had found. So far it was interesting and the scholar side of him wondered as to its purpose.
“It will be some time before we have it fully exposed,” Me-Me noted. “I need to go to the nursery. But if you need anything, my children can contact me directly and I will come.” she promised.
Pensword waited for a while longer. They had gotten to three meters depth before he looked at his pocket watch and sighed. “I need a guide back to the surface. I have a meeting with some of the military architects this evening and I will need to wash before hoof. I am sorry I cannot stay any longer.” He had helped a little with digging and used Thestral techniques to help enlarge and reinforce the cavity above the structure. One Changeling found something odd a little ways up as well. A steel wall.
“Well,” Pensword responded seeing the exposed metal. “I think this is a means to keep the rest of the mountain from coming down on the facility. What we have here is the solidified gravel that must have been filled in between the two items when they buried this.” He shook his head. “That means if we uncover more of this metal we might be able to dig a little faster without fear of a cave in.”
Shawn found himself rolling his wrists after a series of hits against the training dummy before him. Each hand bore a powerful weighted gauntlet. The metal on each one was denser than normal, thus granting him greater force and impact than he might normally hold. On his right the gauntlet was made with Ebony metal, the left, Crystal Steel. Cracking his knuckles he readied himself again, planning out another series of hits against his target. After a brief second he continued again, timing one hit after the other, keeping his strength measured until he came to the final blow.
Just as he was about to let loose, Pensword entered the courtyard in full armor and mud clogged wing blades. He paused at seeing the final hit. Shawn arced upwards with a powerful uppercut, knocked off the dummy’s head and landing it somewhere in the ramparts.
“Well at least it didn’t go into orbit this time,” Pensword said. His voice rang across the empty courtyard, amplified by the stone walls and lack of ponies.
“I’ve learned to measure my strength since then,” Shawn replied as he turned towards the pegasus. “What’s new?”
“Well, I just returned from Area 51,” he responded, walking up to Shawn as he lowered his voice, switching to Draconic. “Me-Me found what appears to be a sealed medical… box big enough to house bodies. Her hive is going to be in Area 51, Royal gardens. I do not know what it is. Just that there is something that looks like star trek metal down there with a red cross on a white circle. So far we have not found the entrance.” he cleared his throat, rubbing it with a hoof. “Dragonic is not meant to be spoken by Equine vocal chords for long, it seems.” Pensword cleared his throat again. “Still, I am calling it Area 51.”
“Then we need to make something even better. I do want to get a place to test some… experiments.” Shawn said after a pause. “Got to test explosive rounds somewhere safe, you know. Without plenty of living beings in the area around it.”
“Sounds simple enough,” Pensword said with a shrug. We just have to annex some of the Badlands. Call it the Skunkworks.”
“You know, you are just tempting me to try some more of the dangerous stuff with that kind of thinking.” Shawn gave a light chuckle as he started to undo the straps on his gauntlets.
“Well, why not? It would scare the Queen Bug we all dislike from getting near Equestria anytime soon, I hope.” He paused and looked to the gauntlets. “So what do you have this time around, Q?”
“Eclipse,” Shawn replied as he pulled them off. “Ebony and Crystal Steel weighted gauntlets.”
“Well, it certainly looks impressive,” Pensword responded with a Grin. “I like the look and contrast between the dark and light.”
“The armor comes next.” Shawn smirked. “I’m practicing in this form to keep myself ready on both sides.”
“Sounds good.” Pensword smiled a little. “If you would excuse me, I better get a shower before meeting some folks tonight.” He paused. “Have you seen Lunar Fang?”
“I’ve been focused on this project. You’re the first pony I’ve noticed for a bit.”
“I shall see if she is in the solar suite, then. I want to say hello to her and Moon River.” He smiled a little. “I am happy,” he said, like he had made some novel discovery. This is- I am married and happy.”
“Count yourself one lucky… stallion,” Shawn replied as he took a seat on the small table adjoining the courtyard wall.
“Understood. I wish to chat, but I had better be moving.” He stopped to observe the reconstruction. “I can see a few more stones have been placed in order. That is good to see. Another small step to making this place more like a home.” He trotted away, humming a happy tune under his breath.
“Still feels odd calling a castle a home,” Shawn muttered to himself as he looked around. “Then again I’ve lived in the equivalent of a mansion from a thousand years ago.”
A moment later a Unicorn with a mason square cutiemark walked into the courtyard with a roll of blue parchment. “Ah, Lord Shawn. I was looking for Lord Hammer Strike, but you’ll do just as well. I was wondering what you might think about this future addition for that granary.” He pulled on a cord which roll out multiple plans at once. “As well as a mill for a creek we mapped out to the West. Also, we have word that the pay wagons will be arriving in three days,” the mason said, pulling tables over to place the blueprints. Shawn could tell there were a few more in the pile. “I know we have a lot more projects, but we should really get started on some means of producing our own breads. I was planning to meet with some of Ponyville farmers to help plot out some good soil to grow the grains.”
After a few moments of thought Shawn finally gave out a hum before starting to speak. “Should prove to be useful. Have to work on pathing for out there, but it shouldn’t take that long.” He continued to look through the plans. “A flowing river, right?”
“That is correct.” the Unicorn responded. “A flowing river. We do not know where it leads but we found that it connects to a branch off the main Ponyville River that goes through town.”
“Then I may have another project to do on the side, but that’ll be a more private one. Other than that, I would suggest waiting until we get some paths laid out to expedite the movement of equipment back and forth. Other than that we just need to finish off the stabilization of the building and then it’s just cleaning things up.”
“Understood. I have some friends in the Manehatten guild coming out. I think I can convince them to help with the paths. They should be arriving in the next two days. These three always loved roughing it. They actually jointly designed the rail stop that turned into Appleloosa.” He chuckled. “So don’t be surprised if one of them starts mapping out a rail line.”
“Oh joy, Pensword will have a field day every day he hears the trains come by,” Shawn replied.
“Why would the commander have a field day? He doesn’t like the steam whistles?” The Unicorn asked with a confused look. “It is the fastest mode of transportation at the moment, at least till you build an airship hangar dock.”
“Definitely going to do that part. But no, Pensword very much enjoys trains. Very much enjoys them.”
“Like Pinky Pie enjoys cake?” a familiar voice asked as Grif descended on the yard.
“Grif, good, you’re back now as well,” Shawn called out.
“And you managed to not do any paperwork in the time we were gone.” Grif smiled. “As a fellow procrastinator I salute you, sir.”
“I’ll have you know I’m ahead of schedule, and I was out on a trip,” Shawn replied.
“Anyway, I see you've been making good use of the workforce. Has the quarry hit any interesting deposits yet?” Grif asked
“Not that I know of.”
“Well,” The Unicorn replied as he pulled out some regular parchment paper. “My friend, Marble Block, asked that I deliver this for him. It states that the Quarry is half empty and that the stones in the quarry can still be used. Using his unicorn magic, he also claims to have detected at least three more large marble deposits, some Granite veins, and well, I lost track of the rest. He got so excited he talked faster than I could write. Seems the only reason the quarry was even abandoned was due to Nightmare Moon.”
“And the mining company?” the gryphon asked.
“You’ll have to ask Gold Nugget. He is currently training some workers… we think we might have a few veins of precious metals to mine. And with Dame Rarity to help with gem locations, it should be a cinch to make a profit. Still, we might have to travel down to the Macintosh Mountains and see if we can find any more mines to operate or start.” He looked at the two. “I’m sorry, but I’m afraid that’s all I have for now. We don’t know what we’re going to find just yet.”
“Never apologize because you don't have all the answers, Mason Brick,” Grif said to the unicorn. “We really appreciate all that you guys are doing, especially as a good portion of you are all the way out here away from friends and family to do it.”
“Well, hopefully we can have a place for them by mid summer’s eve,” Mason Brick replied. “The Summer Solstice would be a nice day to be with family.”
“Be sure to let us know where the best housing areas would be. We’ll be sure to set it aside for you,” Grif promised.
Grif smiled up from his cloud as he spotted his prey. He was certain he had been the very symbol of stealth, unseen and unheard as she moved through the courtyard. As silently as he was able, Grif let himself fall into a dive towards the gryphoness.
Smiling, Shrial sidestepped playfully as she turned to face her lover, sword at the ready. “Sparring this early, Grif?” She asked playfully. “I thought you still had plans for your, what do you call it? A bachelor party?”
“Actually, that's not till the night before the ceremony and I’m not allowed to plan it. That's Pensword’s job.” He smiled. “And perhaps after a week away I thought it would be nice to spend time with you.”
“Well, love, all you had to do was ask me nicely,” she said, kissing him on the beak as she traced a talon gently over his face. Her engagement band glinted proudly in the sun.
“What? And not be my impetuous self? But that's why you love me,” he replied brushing her gently with a wing. “ So have you picked a gemstone yet?” he asked her.
“Not yet. I’ve been searching for the right one, but it’s difficult to find one that’s suitable for the occasion. It’s not every day a girl gets to marry a warrior like you.”
“Maybe an amethyst? It’s the symbol for clarity and calm, fitting for the both of us, I think. You are my calm and I am your clarity.”
Shrial pondered for a time. “Hmm. Not a bad idea. And the colors should go well together. Far better than some emerald.”
“We will both give up our honor for our values. It doesn't define us,” Grif noted. “Shrial, you know why I was in canterlot, but you haven't asked me the question on your mind.”
“I didn’t want to ruin our fun. But since you brought it up, how goes the search?”
“I did end up with a betrothal contract to one of the emperor’s cousins,” Grif admitted. “But I didn't choose her for power or prominence. I don't want to hide this from you. You’re a large part of my life not just as my love, but during the war as my confidante as well.”
“And you haven’t brought her back so I can get to know her? Why Grif, I’m positively shocked. How scandalous of you,” She said, laughing as she embraced her husband to be. “You should know I’m not bothered as long as you love them. Our tastes are fairly similar after all.”
“You`d like her. She’s an athlete from the empire. I couldn't bring her here cause she’ll be competing in the Equestria games.” Grif smiled. “So you get me to yourself for a good few months yet.”
“Mmm, perfect,” She said, rubbing against him as she preened some of his feathers with her beak. “I’d like to lay claim on you first before the others do,” she said with a wicked wink.
“If it’s a claim, well, you had that a thousand years ago. But if it’s the other type of claim you mean ...” he returned the wicked grin. “We'll have to wait till our ferry gets to the island and I’ll definitely make sure you get all you can handle.”
“I can hardly wait,” She said, playfully smacking him with her tail before jumping a safe distance and drawing her sword once again. “Alright, let’s see if we can’t work off some of those donuts you love so much.”
Grif chuckled as he drew his blades, stabbing the right handed one into the ground. “Let’s see if you mastered fighting an off-handed opponent yet.” He drew the sword vertically parallel to his face. “Arret!” Then he swept the blade to point to the ground. “En guard!” He charged ahead for a slice.
Pensword paused in his paperwork. It had been two weeks since his return home. And finding out about Me-Me and her recent discovery still weighed heavily on his mind. He paused as he heard the sound of hooves clip clopping on the cobblestone. He moved quickly to stand next to his desk. Three steady knocks came from the door. “Enter” he commanded.
“You handle this. I have things to do,” a female voice spoke rather irritatedly.
“Your autographs can wait, Spitfire. I just spent a week hunting her down because you didn't follow military standards. You’re going to be present for this,” a male voice spoke as four ponies entered the room. The first was obviously Rainbow Dash. What caught Pensword’s eye, however, was the Wonderbolt Cadet uniform she now sported. Rainbow was soon followed by a light blue pegasus stallion with dark blue mane and tail dressed in a flight suit. A lime green pegasus mare with orange hair struggled against his hold as he hovered in. Walking in beside them looking very unhappy, was a pegasus mare with yellow fur and a red orange mane. She bore the flight suit of her status as well as sunglasses and a flight jacket. Rainbow, Spitfire, and Soarin saluted while the third mare continued to kick and squirm. Considering the nature and the circumstances, Pensword assumed this would require his official self, rather than his casual side. He crisply returned the salute.
“At ease Mares, Stallion,” he said. He looked at Spitfire. “Lieutenant Colonel Spitfire, why do you have a shackled Pegasus Mare in my office?”
“First Lieutenant Soarin Winds requesting permission to speak, sir!” Soarin said, dropping the struggling mare to the floor as he stood behind her.
Pensword looked at Spitfire before turning back to Soarin. “Very well, soldier. Permission Granted.”
“Commander, this is recruit Lighting Dust, formerly of the Wonderbolt Academy training ranks. Recently she committed several reckless acts, including the endangerment of civilians. Spitfire dishonorably discharged her, but I believe, Sir, that her crimes warrant a stricter punishment to prevent her from acting out of line again. I have brought recruit Rainbow Dash, who was Lightning Dust’s partner during the exercises, and can attest to her behavior.”
“Very well.” Pensword started. “Recruit Rainbow Dash, please, inform me of the events that have been alluded to. Based upon your testimony I shall decide whether a Court Martial is needed.”
Rainbow did as instructed, telling her tale in a surprisingly professional manner as she described each event from Lightning Dust’s willingness to sacrifice her partner or other recruits for her own fame to the tornado that almost ended the bearers of the elements of harmony.
“Tell me, who taught you the value of right and wrong?” he looked at each of them. “From the look of things Lieutenant Colonel Spitfire has learned the events. And Soarin… not everything is an autograph. Look at my desk. That stack of pictures is to be used as get well cards to sick members of the Solar Guard.” Soarin blushed sheepishly. He looked to the others. “However, what I have heard is that Miss Lightning Dust does not fully understand teamwork. She has gone solo all her life, am I correct?”
Lightning Dust nodded her head up and down, but said nothing more.
“That being the case, she will be reformed within the ranks here in New Unity. However, for the first six months she will not be granted leave. This outfit is for second chances.” He turned to face Lighting Dust directly. “What you did may very well be close to placing you in Military Prison. However, seeing as the other Elements of Harmony have not pressed charges, and Lieutenant Colonel Spitfire felt that you did not deserve jail time, you will thereby have your discharge revoked. You shall report here for military weather duty. At the rank of Cadet Private.” Lightning opened her mouth in protest, only for Pensword to raise a hoof, effectively cutting her off. “After one year of your four year probation, and it will be a four year probation, you shall report before me and a council of your fellows to see how you have improved and if you are worthy of any rank promotions. Do I make myself clear?”
“Good. First Lieutenant Soarin, remove her chains. Lighting Dust, you are to report to the supply outfit immediately.” He smiled as a familiar pegasus walked into the room. “Fox Feather, good. You have excellent timing. Please Escort Cadet Private Lightning Dust to the supply room to have her gear issued to her. Lieutenant Colonel Spitfire, First Lieutenant Soarin, Recruit Dash, you are all dismissed.” He looked at LIghtning Dust. “I look forward to seeing you at tonight’s roll call.”
Soarin removed the chains and all four pegasi saluted before leaving a crushed Lighting Dust with Fox Feather. As the other three left, Pensword looked at Fox Feather and nodded his head. “You will have her records to your hooves by the end of the day. I would like you to teach her how to work in teams and be integrated into the unit.” He smiled, baring his fangs. “In fact, slate her for Gryphon Slayer training.”
“Pensword, you think you can gather the Gryphon Slayers to the courtyard for a bit?” Hammer Strike asked his friend as they passed each other.
Pensword froze mid step. “May I ask why? Because at the moment I am dealing with a new recruit and she’s a real stubborn case.”
“Ah, if they are going to be busy nevermind then. I was just looking to do some sparring matches,” He replied, shrugging.
“With the Gryphon Slayers?” Pensword returned in a disbelieving tone of voice. “How many?”
“Don’t know. I want to simulate some group fighting. More than a few at a time,” Hammer replied, thinking to himself. “Perhaps, if possible, bring them all.” He chuckled.
“All of them?” Pensword asked, a devious smile forming on his muzzle. “Even the new recruit? If so, I could allow that. It might show her just what she is in for.”
“Already torturing a poor recruit?” Hammer asked. “Well, if they stick around after the fight, that shows something, I guess… After the visits to the infirmary that is.”
“I think she’s got a hard enough head. Besides, she deserves it with how reckless she is. Yet, when I look in her eyes, I think she will make it. She does not know it yet, but she has great potential.”
He quickly left the courtyard and entered the segment of ruins that had been claimed by the Gryphon Slayers. He looked not only on the fourteen who came from the past with him, but also the other fifteen cadets who were undergoing training. “Okay, Gryphon Slayers. We have a challenge for you all today. Lord Hammer Strike has invited us to a sparring match. He wants everypony to come fight with him. Even the recruits.”
Night Prism smiled, showing his Thestral Fangs. “Well, Moon Kicker, it seems that his Lordship has finally gotten bold enough to challenge us.”
“But,” one of the new recruits, a Unicorn with a red ribbon bow Cutie Mark replied. “He fights crazy.” He looked around as the fourteen veterans laughed.
“Yeah, but that is against the guards and you rookies. He has not faced veterans for a while. I think we can have a go at it. If he lets us all attack him at once, we might even stand a chance.”
Pensword chuckled, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Don’t worry. I am going to join in as well. After all, if we have the numbers, we attack at once.” He never did like those games where you have an army to face and the computer would send in one or two guys at a time. Far better to have strength in numbers. He looked to Lightning Dust. “Your assignment is to land at least two strikes upon Hammer Strike’s form. Do that and, well, let us just say that few ever land a second hit on Lord Hammer Strike.”
Lighting Dust just stared at the Commander. “You just ordered me to strike a Lord of Equestria? Twice? You sure you don’t want me behind bars?”
“Lass,” an Earth Pony began. “I have seen him in combat.”
“We all have, Whistle Clean,” Moon Kicker replied with a laugh and a hoof punch to the big pony’s shoulder. He looked to Lighting Dust. “He once lobbed off the head of a Gryphon General in personal one on one combat to the death. He can take a hit or two from any of us.”
“You’re all crazy!” Lightning Dust shouted.
“So says the Lass,” Whistle Clean returned calmly. “Who almost got the Elements of Harmony killed with a tornado to beat some time record.” More than a few ponies glared at her as, once again, Lightning Dust’s pride was systematically pricked and deflated.
Pensword hit a hoof on the ground with a shout. “Enough! We are wasting time. We focus on bonding later. Right now we have been challenged. If we delay any more it might look like we are cowards afraid to face one Earth Pony.” He ran his gaze over each member of the unit, his personal guard. “Now we move out and we attack him. I think the current record for time is six minutes. That record is currently held by the Gryphon Mercs. Now, shall we let that stand?”
“NO!” Fourteen voices cried out.
“Then shall we make it six minutes and ten seconds for the new record?”
“Yes!” All the voices chimed in. Lighting Dust was verbal, but still half hearted. Doubt shone clearly in her eyes.
“Then move out,” Pensword ordered. He turned around and the group of twenty nine soldiers marched towards the sparring ring.
After a few minutes they finally made it. Hammer Strike sat there in his vest and dress shirt, his coat off to the side, folded up as he waited for them to arrive.
“We have come, as requested. How many do you wish to face at once? Seeing as you have grown bored of single sparring matches?” Pensword asked with a glint in his eye. “Shall we be timing the entire time we fight or will each individual group be a different time?”
“Time the entire thing. There’s twenty nine of you. Unless you’ll be joining, Pensword. Then it will be thirty,” Hammer replied.
“You challenged my men. Of course I am going to join with them. Do three waves of ten sound good to you? Just to test the waters?”
“That sounds fine. Pick your groups of ten and we’ll start.”
“Alpha, Beta, Charlie groups, form up. Lightning Dust, you are with me in the Alpha group.” He looked around with a nod of his head. Before pausing. “Is there a problem, Miss Dust?” He asked?
“Alpha, Beta, and Charlie? What kind of names are those?” She responded with her as the record showed, rather blatant show of mouth.
“They are the names I pick for my units. And for that little remark, after this you get thirty wing ups. Before chow!” Lightning Dust flinched as Pensword turned to face the other two squadrons. “Beta, you are first. Charlie, second. Alpha, we go last.”
The area around the arena was surrounded by a bevy of ponies and gryphons, all anticipating the fight that was to come.When Hammer Strike fought, people wanted to be there to see it. Betting pools where opened and bits practically flew from talon to hoof to talon as the audience waited for the match to start.
Beta gathered on one end, a mix of all four races, both veteran and recruit. They looked at each other before facing Hammer Strike, waiting patiently while Pensword marveled at just how fast word had spread over the challenge. The ponies spread out around in all directions around the lord, preparing themselves for the signal to start. The tension in the air was palpable as they stared across at a warrior who had more time to practice and train than most warriors lived.
Hammer Strike stood motionless in the center, almost disinterested with the ponies before him. A bell sounded in the distance and the match was on. All at once a newer pegasus recruit made a beeline for Hammer Strike from behind only for the pony to step to the side and bring his front knee down on the pegasus’ back, sending him to the ground. A unicorn took advantage of the distraction to buck at Hammer Strike from the side.
Hammer Strike groaned from the impact letting it send him to the ground only to transfer the momentum, sending his back legs diagonally into the unicorn’s barrel. The other eight were slightly shocked by how easily he had taken two of their number down. Two earth ponies attempted to rush Hammer Strike from both sides. In response, Hammer Strike stood on his back legs, sending a front leg out to each side. He stopped the chargers cold before delivering a fast punch to the stomach of the one pony and the chin of the other. He fell forward into a roll as a pegasus flew through the space where he had been standing mere seconds ago. Jumping as he reached his feet, Hammer Strike grabbed two pegasi by their back hooves and spun around, hurtling them into an earth pony just about to enter the action.
“Come on. Fight like you’re trying to kill me!” Hammer called out.
The sound of charging hooves echoed behind him and turned to intercept only for the thestral to duck low, landing a punch just beneath Hammer Strike’s chin. The earth pony lord actually took a step back as he absorbed the blow, but managed to use his leg to block the next strike. The thestral pushed ahead with rapid blows, which Hammer Strike was forced to block until he saw his opening. Bringing his momentum forward he jabbed his left hoof into the thestral’s stomach. However, in his distraction he was pulled backward onto his back. Just a few feet away a unicorn had managed to lasso him with its magic, holding him in place for a pegasus to dive bomb. The crowd murmured as it looked like someone had gotten the better of Hammer Strike only for him to grin at the last moment. Breaking the magical hold like a child would a string, he moved to his side. Dirt shot into the air as the pegasus slammed the ground beside him, jarring his skull. Grabbing the downed pegasus by the tail he sent it flying into its unicorn partner.
Hammer Strike was forced forward as a pegasus made contact with his back, but before he could turn to respond a thestral impacted his other flank. The two traded divebombs keeping Hammer Strike on the defensive. Hammer kept his distance, biding his time as he defended against the blows until the pegasus and thestral grew too confident. That was their fatal mistake. Attempting a double dive bomb, the attack resulted in Hammer Strike rolling away at the last moment. The two flyers crashed together with a marvelous clatter like great symbols as they crashed to the ground. Hammer Strike stood calmly amongst the unconscious, or at least temporarily addled opponents.
“Medics, please attend to the wounded. Use any spells or medicine you can think of.” Pensword paused and smiled. “Are you trying to force my team to take time off?” he asked as Charlie moved into position. “Time.” Pensword ordered while the clock was paused. He looked at his friend. “I think we landed a few hits.”
“A few, yes,” Hammer responded.
The two time keepers, a Gryphon and a Unicorn looked at the clock. The Gryphon spoke up. “One minute Fifty Nine Seconds.”
Lightning Dust stared as her lower jaw dropped. “You want me to go up against him? Do you want me dead?” She squawked as Grif landed into the courtyard, hearing her voiced question.
“If we'd wanted you dead, Hammer Strike wouldn’t be empty hoofed. At worst you’ll only be maimed temporarily. Just think outside the box, don‘t underestimate him, and you`ll be fine,” Grif said.
Lighting Dust just stared at Grif. “You are all Insane and Crazy.”
“Insane, yes. Stupid, no. The thing is, this insane gryphon walked through an open battle field against some of history's most deadly warriors and lived. Sometimes insanity is what keeps us alive,” Grif responded.
Pensword looked to Lightning Dust. “We get told that a lot.” He then turned to look at Charlie as they finished lining up. “Okay. You can do this… Alpha will be there shortly to back you up. Give it your all everypony.” Hammer Strike stood with a disinterested look. The bell rang after a few minutes and Charlie signaled it was ready.
Right from the start, two Thestrals took to the air, trying to pull off a similar bombardment as was deployed before while two Unicorns tried to hold Hammer’s hooves in their magic to keep him from kicking or punching.
Hammer Strike grinned as he moved, forcing his hooves together through sheer force of will as he brought the two magics into contact with each other. The two spells, unprepared for the merger, backlashed, releasing a small shockwave which disoriented the thestrals. Taking advantage of this temporary lull, he grabbed the nearest one and hurled him towards a unicorn.
The Unicorn, still disoriented from the merging of two magic fields, could not prepare for the incoming Thestral who was trying to flap her wings to gain altitude and prevent what inevitably happened next. The two collided and went down in a heap. While they were still awake, they had strained their legs and were quickly removed from the field as the two Earth Ponies who had stayed back attacked at once, trying sheer brute force as they charged while the other flyers took to the the air. The last remaining Unicorn stood her ground and summoned a magic barrier to help protect the charging Earth Ponies. An inventive ploy, but would it work?
Hammer Strike dropped at the last moment as the two earth ponies collided above him before returning with a double uppercut. One of the thestrals collided with an earth pony as he was forced to rear from the tackle.
Only five remained: four fliers and one Unicorn. She did her best to use her magic for another shield while the Slayers regrouped before she tried to lasso Hammer’s legs. Meanwhile the four remaining fliers, two Pegasi and two Thestrals, charged in for another dive bomb, swarming like bees as they replicated the behavior of birds when defending their nests from attack. The Pegasi tried to start some wing currents to kick up dust around Hammer Strike and reduce visibility. Hammer Strike responded by kicking up more dust, extending the cloud until it covered all visibility of him completely. One of the thestrals divebombed into the cloud only to not come out again.
The others were quick to peel off as the remaining three started to flap their wings to clear the dust away. Their tactic had been turned on them. The Unicorn quickly raised the barrier to protect herself and her companions from the blinding particles flying about, curving like a windshield.
Rocks flew from inside the dust cloud, pelting the barriers from different directions with a large amount of force. For a while she put up a good retaliation, but one rock slid just under the lip of the shield, striking the the unicorn’s horn.
The magic fizzed out as she went cross eyed and dropped unconscious, unable to continue the fight. The last three ponies formed up for one last dive bomb to try and at least control Hammer Strike’s movements and hopefully land a few more hits.
Hammer Strike played his new advantage for all it was worth, letting each take a few sweeps before grabbing the first and slamming him hard into the ground. Within the next minute or so the dust settled and all three ponies lay on the ground, unconscious.
The bell rang, signaling the end of the match. Pensword looked at the scene. “Time,” he barked.
“Two minutes and one second,” the time keepers proclaimed. Pensword squinted.
“Alpha move into position!” This, of all others was the only group composed solely from Veterans of the Gryphon Slayers. Well, all but one. Lightning Dust quivered where she stood. “So… you ready for round three?” He asked Hammer Strike while the Ponies and Gryphons stood watching.
“Ready as always,” Hammer replied.
Pensword smirked as he looked to his troops. “Pattern Zeta.” He called out. The group immediately charged. Hammer Strike, for the first time in living memory, looked just a bit surprised as he saw the wall of ponies rushing him. At the last possible moment he reared up, placing his hooves on the head of an oncoming earth pony and forced its head into the ground.
The Earth Pony rolled with the attack and was able to kick up at Hammer Strike’s underside. Meanwhile, Lighting Dust found herself on a head on course stampeding directly for Hammer Strike. She shifted her forehooves forward in a superman pose as she extended her wings, hoping to push up and away from the hooves of the legendary Earth Pony Smith.
Pensword quickly moved to be with Moon Kicker as they both worked to form a two-pronged attack. In the back, Animal Control quickly conjured the image of a bear, which roared as it reared up onto its hind legs. Hammer Strike twisted at the last minute, kicking Lighting Dust away as he grabbed Moon Kicker`s outstretched hooves and hurled her into Pensword. The earth pony smith landed once more, creating a small crater. He turned to animal control, completely ignoring the illusion, and rushed her.
She did her best to create a Wolf construct to intercept Hammer Strike while she dodged to the other side. The Earth Pony who had been under Hammer Strike was out on the floor while Moon Kicher and Pensword stood up shaking off the attack. Lightning Dust used the momentum of Hammer Strike’s kick to gain altitude before she began to run around in a circle in the air. A lightning bolt began to run behind her, indicating her boost in speed before she dove towards the fray. The other eight would hopefully keep Hammer Strike busy with their attacks. Right now, the element of surprise was her only hope.
The other fliers barely dodged out of the way as Lightning Dust barreled down, only for Hammer Strike to catch Animal Control, pick her up, and use a grapple to roll, effectively switching places with her. Lightning Dust and Animal Control both went out in a cloud of dust and dirt. While still awake, they both were too injured to fly or cast magic. The two could hardly stand as they swayed on their hooves, gently guided out by the medics. Seven ponies remained.
Hammer Strike stood arrogantly, waiting for their next strike. His stance remained unattached to the situation and the look on his face was bored. He did not have to wait long as two Thestrals charged him at the same time. One of them tried to use sleep magic on the pony lord, only to be punched in the muzzle in the blink of an eye. The Other Thestral did her best to pull up but found herself stopped as a strong hoof yanked on her tail. She cried once before she was swung around and crashed into the charging form of an Earth Pony. “Hello, Glamour Hooves,” She replied with a dizzy voice. Glamour Hooves just groaned from where he had dug up some dirt with his head.
Pensword stared and shook his head. “Glamour Horn, Magic Swirl, use some magic bolts to try and distract him.” He ordered as he took to the air again. He quickly moved to team up with the last flyer, a Thestral. “Blood Moon, come on. We should try and start one of our flybys.”
Glamour Horn and Magic Swirl charged up their horns, ready to make their last stand. Taking a page out of his previous book, Hammer Strike began kicking up pebbles and smaller rocks, sending them flying in the unicorns’ direction. Magic swirl managed to put a shield up in time, but Glamour Hooves took a stone square on the horn. He fell seconds later.
Magic Swirl stepped back and charged forward before jumping to the left at the last moment. He fired a magic bolt point blank, smiling, only for his victory to turn to ask as Hammer Strike took the blow. He didn’t even stagger at the hit before he rounded and kicked Magic Swirl with his hind hooves, landing right on the Cutie Mark. Something happened and Magic Swirl dropped. He tried to use his horn, but his magic was on the fritz. It was all child’s play from there as Hammer shot a pebble right at the base of Swirl’s horn. Seconds later, Magic Swirl blacked out.
Pensword paused in mid air, hovering. He had a feeling. “That layer,” he muttered in reference to the Thaumic field around Hammer Strike. It seemed that the field was treating this like actual combat, but rather than working to destroy an opponent, was apparently taking Prisoners. Before he could say anything Moon Blood tried to dive only to have a pair of rocks hit him in the joints, locking his wings. He tumbled to the ground, rolling end over end and groaned. Pensword looked with his keen tactical eye and sighed in relief. Nothing had been broken. Though he guessed that Moon Blood would be put off for a few days due to over strained wings. Pensword now stood alone, the last pony remaining. And he knew if he stayed still for more than five seconds the match would be forfeit. He dove and landed on the ground as he began to circle Hammer Strike. “So. It seems that it is down to you and it is down to me.”
“Correct,” Hammer replied.
Pensword kept a flat expression as he continued to circle. He broke suddenly, flying at ground level before rearing back to kick with his hind legs at the pony lord. “Eay-ah!” he shouted.
Hammer Strike responded by dropping below Pensword and grabbing one of his legs. With a flick of his foreleg he laid Pensword on his back to the ground. Time seemed to slow as Hammer Strike seized Pensword’s leg. He did his best to kick with his free hoof while the magic of hoof holding allowed this strange predicament. Pensword, or rather Matthew, still did not understand how this could happen, but there it was. Seeing what was rapidly approaching, he did the one thing an experienced warrior could do in this situation. He relaxed his body and took the blow. The moment he felt the grip on his leg released, he crouched both legs back and bucked for all he was worth. He felt both legs hit flesh, but he did not wait before he did his best to get away. Right now, distance was he best bet.
Unfortunately, he was too slow. Hammer Strike landed on his back and twisted a foreleg behind in a wrestling move. A Gryphon began to count as a joke, only to find, to his shock, the rest of the crowd joined with him after “three.” It was not till Ten that the bell rang and the match was over.
“Time,” Hammer Strike called out, letting Pensword go.
“Two minutes and five Seconds,” The Unicorn studying the clock called out.
“That makes it a total of six minutes and five seconds.” The Gryphon called out. “The record now stands at Six Minutes Five seconds!”
Pensword stood up only to almost fall again. He turned his head to look at his left rear leg. He had to lift it up. “Grif,” He called. “I need you to place guards over the Field of Flags.” He looked to the two medical ponies heading his way. “Knowing our luck, we will be on R n R for a week.” He waited till Grif got closer. “Make sure that the Gryphons know that if any flags go missing the entire Gryphon Clanless and Clans will do ten mile marches, on their talons. The one that takes the flag will pull the water wagon behind them.”
“I`ll do you one better. I`ll put the rohirrim on guard.” Grif nodded to Black Rook, who went to make the arrangements. “You guys should be proud. That was quite a match. Don't think I've ever seen Hammer Strike so very nearly almost winded before,” Grif said, surprisingly, with no mocking in his voice.
“Yeah… Still, it felt good to let loose a little. I just wish I didn’t hurt my leg. Lunar Fang ... I do not know if she is going to doctor me, or chew me out.”
“Maybe both?” Lunar Fang called out from the sidelines, her eyes glinting dangerously. “When you get better the first thing I’m going to do is teach you how to wrestle.”
“Congratulations on the new record,” Hammer Strike said. “Now, if you would excuse me, I have to grab my next weapon to test. I remembered something from home and I decided I wanted to try to remake it. Grif, I want you around for the testing. Give some feedback.”
“And you, commander, will get to see this new weapon, when you are released from the Medical Tents,” one of the nurses ordered in a no nonsense tone. “Now come on, get on the cot and we’ll bring you inside.”
“You know, I thought it felt like a good day for testing out new weapons.” Grif laughed. “Anyway, you go rest, Pensword. You guys did good out there today.”
Interesting enough, it was Shawn who walked out of the building again with what looked to be the pommel of a sword on his back. They couldn’t tell length with him facing them. “Good, dummies are set up for practice.”
“So what’s the weapon this time? Should I stand way back, or is this just an insane melee weapon?” Grif asked
“Oh, you know,” Shawn replied as he unsheathed the blade, a long silver shaft with what looked to be a reinforced handle. Its ultimate function, Grif had no clue. A second later he flipped the blade in his hand and offered it over to Grif.
Grif took it into his talons, gingerly inspecting it. “This is quite the piece,” he noted. “But this seems more my style than yours,” Grif said as he spun the blade a few times in his claws. “It may even be a bit light for me,” he noted, handing it back.
“That part of the sword, yes, The second part of it, not so much,” Shawn said as he grabbed the blade. After a quick look down he flipped it in his Grip, placed it into the sheath, and gave it a turn. A mechanical click sounded through the air as he pulled it over his shoulder once again. This time, it was drastically different. Instead of pulling back and revealing the sword, he pulled the entire thing forward. A large greathammer appeared in the light of day, made from a dark grey metal that Grif hazarded a guess was doubly reinforced grey iron.
“That is incredibly cool and yet totally weird,” Grif said.
“It is from a trailer to a game I saw awhile back,” Shawn said quietly. “The sword part of it will be combined with, say, a shield in my left hand. When I need to hit hard rather than fast, I swap it out,” He told Grif as he transitioned the blade back into a longsword. “I made a mechanism to lock the blade into the hammer sheath when I turn and pull up. To swap it back, I push down and turn it in the other direction, thus releasing the mechanism.”
“That could be incredibly useful. I can see a lot of applications for weapons like tha,t” Grif said “It would definitely take some skill to get the hang of though.”
“That’s why I’m going to practice with it a bit. Test it on some dummies. And I want you to put it through a quick round hitting targets in a rapid succession to make sure the blade holds up well. I have a shield in the forge, but I don’t need to test that out anymore. I’ve put enough pressure on the thing to make sure it will hold.”
Shawn flipped the weapon in his hand and offered it again. “Sword first.”
With a smile Grif took the blade and performed a few flourishes before turning to the dummy. “Let’s see what this beauty can do.”
Applejack, Applebloom, a pony that none of the others had seen, Big Mac, Tall Oak, and Little Willow all stood before the now working gate, having crossed over the recently completed bridge. Behind them, other Apples were pulling carts of food and supplies that Ponyville appeared to have donated to the building process.
Pensword looked at the group while resting on Lunar Fang’s back and looked to the other’s. “That’s a lot of apples.”
“Oh, good dear, you used a contraction,” Lunar Fang replied, moving a fore hoof to rub his.
“I had a great time at the reunion, mac.” Little Willow smiled at the large stallion. “Thanks again for having me.”
“No problem,” Big Mac replied while the metal gate rose.
“Applebloom, now you and Babe Seed pull your wagon inside and unhitch yourselves. After that … I guess you can play around the safe areas. Just don’t go too far off.” Apple Jack trotted into the courtyard and looked at Hammer Strike and Grif. “Well, here’s your weekly supply and food run. I hope y’all are doing well.” She titled her head, pushing her cowpony hat back. “Why’s Pensword being carried by Lunar Fang?”
“He had a nice spar with ‘Hammer Strike,’” Shawn said with a smile. “Him and twenty nine others. Waves of ten.”
“Well I’ll be a storm tossed tumbleweed in a flash flood.” Applejack whistled. “I might have to come by some evening and challenge him to a hoof wrestle,” She replied. “Or I could just settle for one with you, sugarcube.”
“Let’s find a table then,” Shawn said with a grin as he gestured off to the side.
Big Mac slowly walked up to Grif. “Can we talk? In private?”
Grif signaled with his head before walking off. Big Mac slowly followed behind.
Omni sighed as he signed in to Skype, watching the loading circles spin and spin. He sighed.
“Guys, where are you?” The chat loaded up with its typical sound effects for new notes. However, much to Omni’s surprise, a new friend request appeared coupled with a message. Omni sighed. “Not again. I don’t need some random porn computer trying to infect my laptop, thank you.” Just as he was about to hover over the block button, a new message popped up.
[ ] “Before you push that button, do you want to know what happened to your friends?”
Omni stopped dead.
[Omni Kitsune July 20, 2014 8:45 P.M.] “Who are you?”
[ ] “Someone who wants to help.”
[Omni Kitsune July 20, 2014 8:46 P.M.] “And how do you plan to do that? You’re clearly hacking the system since you’re not leaving a name, or a time stamp. How am I supposed to trust you?”
[ ] “You can’t. But they’re going to need you all the same.”
Omni hovered over the mouse, wondering whether to click and report or not.
[ ] “By the divine sun, Wukong wants his butternut.”
[Omni Kitsune July 20, 2014 8:48] “What the heck was that?”
[ ] “Something I was told to tell you. They said you’d recognize that.”
[Omni Kitsune July 20, 2014 8:50 P.M.] “How the heck am I supposed to recognize that? It doesn’t even make any sense.”
[ ] “Look, I’m trying to help here, okay? Believe me or don’t. Either way, you’re seeing your friends soon. So be ready. Muffin Mare out.”
With that, the request closed, as did the mysterious message window.
“What the heck?” Omni signed out, brooding over what he had just experienced. Should he contact the police? Were his friends even missing? They clearly couldn’t access a computer. He sighed. For all he knew this could just be a hacker looking to steal his identity. Probably best to just leave it alone. He shoved it into the back of his mind and tried to focus on the task at hand. Still, try though he might, he couldn’t seem to concentrate on anything else. “Guys, what have you gotten yourselves into?”
Extended Holiday Ch 52: Keep Calm and Dang It Discord, NOT AGAIN! Act 6
A week later Pensword was finally able to walk without having to use a wheelchair, or ride around on Lunar Fang’s back. He looked to Shawn and Grif with a smile of contentment. While Rainbow Dash lounged in the grass, Rarity was busy putting on some perfume. Twilight was walking around in circles as Pinkie Pie hopped up to the group.
“I love it when Princess Celestia comes to Visit Ponyville! I even shined my hooves like Rarity for the occasion.” She held out a hoof for Rarity’s inspection.
“I certainly do approve,” Rarity replied, admiring herself in the reflection in Pinkie Pie’s hoof.
“Just waiting for whatever is going to go wrong.” Grif yawned. “Let’s get the mayhem over with A.S.A.P.”
“Agreed. But at least if something goes wrong I get to test my armor and equipment to the fullest,” Shawn replied, wearing his newly forged set of steel armor. His recently field tested sword hammer and a shield were both mounted on his back, making for a formidable appearance..
“I’m just surprised she’s not here by now,” Twilight said with a worried look. “And where are Applejack and Fluttershy?”
“Fluttershy is at Sweet Apple Acres helping Applejack with something. They’ll be along soon,” Rarity casually replied, still admiring herself in Pinkie’s hoof.
Spike looked around as well. “But I still don't get why the Princess would be so late.” He looked to Twilight who paused in her own worried pacing to look down at him with a reassuring smile.
“She's bringing an important visitor. That could be part of it,” She replied, turning around and looking up as Rainbow Dash raced around to hover in front of her, sitting in the air.
“A visitor who’s important and slow,” the pegasus huffed.
Pensword paused and shuddered in revlusion. “Faust please let it not be Blueblood. I really, really hope it is not Blueblood.”
“I sense a disturbance in the force.” Grif lifted an eyebrow.
Pensword just froze as he looked toward Canterlot with Spike. The young dragon gasped loudly, then yanked on Twilight’s Tail. “Maybe the visitor has a deer antler, a goat leg, a bat wing, and a snake tail!”
“Yeah, Right. That’s Discord,” Twilight responded without turning around.
“Why in the whole, wide world of Equestria would Princess Celestia bring along someone like that?” Rarity Responded with a baffled look.
“M-m-maybe you should ask... her!” Spike stuttered as he pointed to the air. No sooner were the words out of Spike’s mouth that Princess Celestia landed in her chariot with Solar Guards landing on the ground. Moments later a second chariot landed carrying the Petrified statue of Discord. The same statue that the three remembered landing in front of almost a year ago in the Equestrian time frame.
Pensword stood with fear in his eyes as he stepped back. Just seeing this statue for the first time since, well for the first time as a pony anyways, and he felt like something bad was going to happen.
“I’m getting paid extra for this right?” Grif said staring at the statue.
Twilight ignored Grif’s comment as she walked up to Princess Celestia, an expression of worry on her muzzle. “With all due respect,” she began humbly and calmly. “HOW COULD YOU BRING DISCORD HERE?” She shouted, then cleared her throat. “Your majesty,” she finished calmly as she bowed.
“Well, that was just a subtle hint of passive aggression,” Shawn said.
Princess Celestia looked at the gathered party. “I'm fully aware that the last time Discord was here he created serious havoc.” While she spoke, Pegasi from her solar guard roped themselves to the statue, pulled it off the chariot, and landed it on the grass.
Rainbow Dash hovered in the air looking irritated with one hoof on her hip while the other moved about as she spoke. “If by ‘serious havoc’ you mean turning Ponyville into the chaos capital of the world?"
Rarity Chimed in next. “...and tricking us all into being the opposite of our true selves…”
Pinkie Pie chimed in last. “And making yummy delicious chocolate milk rain all over the place without a single dollop of whipped cream to go with it anywhere in sight! Not a single dollop!”
“Seriously, Celestia, chaos spirit is going to cost extra,” Grif said.
Celestia looked to Grif with an expression that spoke far louder than words before turning to the others. “Yes, I understand. But I have use for Discord's magic if it can be reformed to serve good instead of evil. This is why I've brought Discord here, because I believe that you are the ponies who can help him do just that.” She stared challengingly at the three who had first appeared at Discord’s statue.
Spike began to panic as he moved his clawed hands over his head. “This will never work! This is a disaster! How will we ever control him? We're doomed!”
Celestia smiled at the element holders. “Need I remind you that you are the ponies who turned him back into stone like this in the first place?” she asked, looking at Discord.
Twilight smiled as she looked more confident. “I suppose we can just use the Elements of Harmony against him again if it gets out of hand.”
“And then you have us in the background in case things go worse,” Shawn said aloud.
“I like that plan,” Pensword replied with a laugh. “We will make sure that if it does go south we can and will hold him off for a regroup.”
“Veni veni venias ne me mori facias,” Grif sung under his breath.
Spike’s eyes shrank as he stammered. “Uh, w-w-we probably need a volunteer to run away from here right away to get them. I'll do it!”
Princess Celestia spoke loudly. “No need, Spike. I have them right here. And I've cast a spell so Discord can't take them and hide them again.” As she spoke two guards dropped an ornate chest supported by ornate wooden poles held in their teeth on either side gently to the ground. Celestia opened the chest with her magic, revealing the elements in a velvet lined cushion. “Now where is Fluttershy? I believe she may know best how to begin reforming Discord.”
Rainbow Dash’s jaw dropped. She flew up to Princess Celestia. “Fluttershy? Really?”
“Well,” Twilight Began. “She’s at Sweet Apple Acres helping with a problem.”
“We will wait for Fluttershy,” Celestia finished before looking to Pensword. “Yes, you can keep the chest. If Twilight does not need it.” Pensword blushed violently, scuffing a hoof in the dirt.
“We can discuss that later,” Twilight said as Rainbow Dash followed her namesake towards Sweet Apple Acres.
“So … anypony got a few jokes?” Pensword asked with a nervous smile.
Fifteen minutes later Fluttershy stood before Princess Celestia as she put a hoof under the pegasus’ chin. “I realize that this is a tall order, but I wouldn't ask if I weren't confident you could get him to use magic obediently of his own free will.”
“And... you really think I'll know best how to do that?” Fluttershy asked with a blush.
“I do,” Celestia replied while flying up and landing in her Chariot. “Now, I must return to Canterlot for Equestria's royal summit. You may release Discord when ready.” With that said, Celestia’s Solar Guard took to the air, leaving the group to wave goodbye below.
Once she had gone the party turned to approach the petrified Discord. Twilight levitated the chest to hover in front of her. “Okay, ponies. Guess it's time to get started. Let's just hope this releasing spell works.”
Spike poked his head from behind Twilight. “Or... let's not.”
Twilight levitated the elements of Harmony to their respective bearers, attaching them with a satisfying click. “We'd best keep our elements on at all times till further notice.”
The others nodded their heads. “Check.”
When all was ready Twilight Sparkle focused her magic into her tiara. A violet glow began to surround her as she and the others slowly rose into the air while magical cutouts began flying from the elements to strike the statue.
“Does this remind you of a Cartoon?” Pensword whispered to Grif. As he spoke the entire element holders smiled serenely in the air.
“Not like we're from an alternate universe where this is a cartoon or something,” Grif returned as he held his flintlock at the ready.
A Rainbow ribbon began to form, springing from Pinkie Pie’s and flowing into each of the other elements before wrapping around Twilight’s body and entering her tiara. When the rainbow had gathered its strength Twilight opened her eyes, sending a blast of rainbow magic to strike the statue. Cracks ran up and down the chaos lord’s body as the stone shell began to break apart until Discord burst free. He began to scream, finishing the cry that had been silenced when last he had been released before stretching and groaning.
“Ahh, what a relief. It's about time someone got me out of that prison block,” Discord said, snapping his fingers as he stretched. On a nearby tree a sweet little squirrel grew into a hulking beast with a tattoo. It idly ripped a branch from the tree and started chewing on it, eliciting gasps from the mane six.
Pensword jumped in shock as he looked around at the Squirrel’s problem. “Can, can we please stop with the hulkifying of creatures?”
“Turn it back,” Grif said, holding the flintlock out threateningly.
“You really think you can injure me?” Discord asked, breaking into laughter.
“You probably already know who I am. You know I'd enjoy finding out.” Grif smiled threateningly.
“Well, I would like to see how many different ways his body can twist if the stories are true. I can perform very close combat if needed,” Pensword growled.
“Ah, the illustrious Commander Pensword.” Discord smiled, snapping his fingers as a book and pen appeared in front of him. “Can I have your autograph?”
Pensword looked at the page, then to Discord. “There is a signature from every Commander of Equestria on this page.” He growled. “However, I guess you want mine to make it complete?” He signed his name under one Commander Storm Cloud. “Happy? Also, would you please turn the Squirrel back? It is upsetting Fluttershy and Pinkie Pie.” His tone was crisp, but restrained towards the Chaos being.
“Well, since you're using the magic words ...” Discord sighed as he snapped his fingers and the animals turned back to normal. Unseen, his tail made a second snap as miles away in sweet apple acres the eyes of a family of beavers went red. “Whoopsie,” he said to no one in particular and winked. Somehow everyone managed to miss it.
Discord’s eyes widened as he set eyes on the human. “Well that’s not right. You aren't supposed to be here. Let me fix that,” he said, snapping his fingers again.
“What?” Was all Shawn could get out before his feet were pulled out from under him. A rift in the air had opened behind him as a strong wind began pulling him in. He slammed his hand into the ground, his fingers digging into the earth, attempting to stop himself. “What in the world are you-?” The earth gave, cutting him off as the rift swallowed him up, closing with a loud burp.
Pensword charged at the rift only to stand on the receiving end of the belch. He turned around and his eyes burned in anger. “What, did, you, do?” He hissed each word in a frighteningly calm tone.
The loud crack of gunpowder filled the air as something hit Discord. The small lead ball only caused a ripple in the chaos spirit’s body. Then throwing blades began raining out at him falling off like his skin was made of rubber. The wind picked up as Grif drew his blades. First a breeze, then a gale. But even as Applejack and Rainbow Dash slammed into the Gryphon, holding him back, the tempest had already begun. “Let go, let go! I’M GOING TO FEED HIM HIS OWN FAUST DAMNED SPINE!”
Shawn landed on his back with a thud. He felt disoriented for a moment before pain flared up in his arm. He sat up abruptly, grabbing his right arm as blue flame leaked from the gaps in his armor. He groaned aloud as he tried to control whatever was happening. The only thing he could do was lessen the flow of power. It seemed to work as the flame diminished slightly and the pain became less in the process.
“Good grief. What did you do to me?” Shawn muttered as he looked up at a nonexistent group of individuals. “Uh…” He looked around confused at the sudden lack of ponies and one gryphon. The landscape was covered in pink and blue checkers as rolling hills jumped and jiggled like jello. A swarm of winged lollipops flew by, followed by flying fish as Fluffy pink clouds rained a sticky brown substance in the distance. A distant rumble and dust cloud heralded the stampede of bow-legged rabbits as they dashed through the rain and into another forest with horseshoes, galoshes, hockey skates, skis, and all manner of hoof wear growing from the trees and bushes.
“I’ve died and gone to Looneyville,” Shawn commented as he looked around. “Where are the white coats…?” He muttered to himself as he stood up, groaning in the process.
The steady beat of clanking metal upon metal echoed behind him as hoofsteps squeaked on the ground. Shawn could hear a faint whispering but couldn’t make out the details of the conversation. Still, whatever was coming, he needed to make a decision and fast.
“And here we go, interrogation time,” he muttered as he turned around.
A small herd of ten ponies, the majority being Pegasi clopped into place, forming a small perimeter around the the stranger. The lead pony, a Pegasus, had the helmet and armor that denoted a Commander in the Equestrian Military. However, his appearance was ragged and his cap and armor appeared to have been stained by popcorn, butter, and a combination of Chocolate and Vanilla Pudding. “Hold!” the Commander called out as he stepped into the circle. “Greetings, strange Creature. Have you encountered a being calling themselves a Lord of Chaos?” He paused for a moment, taking in the strangeness that stood before him as he eyed the blue flames running along Shawn’s right arm. “I take it you were once a Dragon?”
Shawn raised his visor to reveal his face. “Pretty much how I got here,” Shawn replied, rolling his shoulder. “Where am I?”
“The border that once was Equestria. You are close to the usurped city of Unity. Does an exchange of names agree with you? I assure you we shall return all to their previous state assuming everything goes according to plan,” The Pegasus said as his ears twitched, turning at every single sound.
“Viginti,” Shawn replied.
“Emergency Commander of Equestrian Armed Forces, Storm Cloud.” The Pegasus responded with a curt nod of his head. He spun around, eyes wide as a familiar laughter echoed from the trees, bushes, and rocks. Literally, as they all had the eyes and mouth of Discord.
“Oh ho ho ho.” A moment later a flash of light blinded everyone and Discord stood in the meadow as he held a life sized peppermint candy cane complete with monocle, which he proceeded to take off and eat. “Well, well, well, what do we have here? Little Celly and Lulu finally find some sort of champion to challenge me?” Discord said in mock interest, eyeing the armor and specifically the dark and light gauntlets.
Shawn lowered his visor and muttered something, the helmet muffling his voice to the point of Discord being unable to hear him.
“What was that? So sorry, I couldn’t hear you,” Discord said while making an entirely over dramatic lean in. As soon as Discord was within reach Shawn’s right arm shot up, slamming his dark gauntleted fist into Discord's jaw.
“That worked,” Shawn replied monotonically.
“Okay, I see that you’re more skilled than most ponies are. Such a naughty trick,” he said, rubbing his jaw as he shook a lion finger. “Very clever. But lets see what happens when you face one of your own kind,” Discord said, laughing as he snapped his fingers. Storm Cloud shouted before disappearing with a loud pop. Meanwhile, a gaping portal with black and white swirls tinged in golden sparks now stood next to the master of chaos.
Omni sighed as he finished disassembling his instrument and putting it away. He draped the red velvet covering onto the violin’s strings as he eyed the humidity counter. It seemed stable enough for now. Closing the case with a mechanical click he turned to face the large black stage where he had just been performing. The blonde haired conductor was speaking to the first chair as men and women came up to congratulate Omni on his safe return. He sighed again as he looked up to the sconces where the ceiling met the walls. A variety of busts and other stone fixtures stared down at him, the great judges of the arts. Slinging the case over his shoulder he grabbed his music and slowly made his way up one of the four main aisles as he looked up to the balcony, taking in the familiar scenery. Two onlookers slowly stood up, making their way for the doors.
It had been over two years since Omni had been able to play in the county orchestra again. It felt good to be amongst old friends, but he couldn’t help but feel a little hollow as the thought of his missing friends intruded on his mind again. What had that stranger meant when he or she had said he’d hear from them soon? He smiled at his father as the pair made their way to the lobby.
“You sounded great tonight, Conor,” the balding man said, patting the young man on his shoulder.
“Thanks dad. It feels good to be back with the orchestra again.” The two walked out side by side as they opened the twin doors leading to the lobby. Slowly they drifted towards the ticket booth as they approached the doors to the parking lot.
“Mister Vulpes!” A deep baritone voice called out, drawing the pair’s attention to the stairs. Two men wearing identical suit and tie walked down, pale wires trailing behind their ears. “Excuse us, sir. Do you have a minute?” Father and son looked on, confused as they crossed the booth, making their way toward the stairwell.
“Yes, I’m Mister Vulpes. What do you gentlemen want?” the older of the pair asked.
“Agent Simmons, F.B.I.” the lead said, holding out a badge. “We’re here on an important matter we hoped your son might be able to help us w-Holy Sardines!” he said, his face a mirror of shock. The agent next to him stared in disbelief at the words he had just heard his partner use.
“Wha-Woah!” Conor cried, his music fluttering to the ground as he felt something grab him from behind, yanking him off his feet. The last thing he heard before getting lost in a kaleidoscope of swirling spirals and golden sparks was his father calling his name. As the portal closed the last sound they heard was a cartoon sounding “YOINK!” It reopened briefly as a lion paw extended a finger and shook back and forth in a chiding gesture at the agent who had tried to swear. Then it dashed back inside as it zipped the hole shut before any sign of the disturbance disappeared entirely with a cartoonish “Pop!”
“And here he is now,” Discord said, smiling as something slammed into the ground in a flash of green lighting that smelled suspiciously like jello. He picked the creature up and blew the dust away, revealing something vaguely humanoid covered in a wide variety of armor pieces ranging in style of size shape and colour. A highly muffled voice could be heard from inside the onion shaped helm. Discord rolled his eyes “Oh. Figures the one I bring here is a total diva. It`s all ‘I need air!’ with him. Very well.” He flicked the helmet and the entire armor set crumbled to a swarm of paper cranes which promptly flew away. The human swayed unsteadily on his feet as he struggled for breath. His shadowy blue eyes blinked behind their glass lenses in the sudden sunlight.
“How dare you…” Shawn said, anger in his tone, as his eyes shifted between the human and Discord. “How dare you!” he roared as his other arm burst into flames. The twin fires writhed like snakes as he leveled a hate filled gaze at the lord of chaos.
“Oh what is it with you? Are you strong on the outside but total drama queens inside?” Discord snapped his fingers and both humans found themselves in some kind of stone circle both holding a sword made of wood as Discord sat on a rock with a bag of seeds, munching them like popcorn. Shawn noticed that the nine guards that had surrounded them before were nowhere to be seen.
“I swear to you, you will pay, Discord…”
“Yes, yes. I`ll pay, she'll pay, he'll pay, there’s going to be a lot of debts collected. But for now….” Discord was cut off as his body pulled suddenly straight in a spasm before returning to its usual relaxed and fluid self. “Well,” he said casually. “It seems I have a sudden appointment elsewhere.” The draconequus teleported next to Conor and raised his sword arm up. “Best get to it you two,” he said. Then he disappeared in an apple pie scented puff of smoke.
Conor stared at the imposing figure in armor. With his or her visor down he couldn’t even hope to make out a face. He pointed, almost laughed, then started to fall forward as darkness claimed him, the sword clattering to the earth. A large black case hung on his back from a shoulder strap which now lay limp on the ground.
“What have you done…?” Shawn asked hollowly as he looked at Conor. “Another person, dragged into this mess.”
Looking to his arms he took a few breaths, trying to calm his anger and extinguish the flame. After a few moments he achieved his goal. Surprisingly, the armor was still cool to the touch. “Need to move somewhere… less hectic.”
The first thing Conor was aware of was his aching side. He groaned in frustration as he shifted to his back, trying to get comfortable on his board of a bed. But wait a minute … he didn’t have a board of a bed. A strangely garbled voice spoke in a combination of makeshift whinnies, nickers, snorts, and neighs. Was he dreaming? He slowly cracked his eyes open, the world a blur. He could hear the crackling of a fire and smell its smoke as it wrapped around him, making his eyes water. He bolted upright, propping himself up with an arm as black spots danced before his vision like lense flares from a camera.
“Woah …” he said, reaching up with his other hand to grab his head. “Ouch.” As the spots cleared he looked first to his right, then to his left where he came face to arm with an armored man. The fire played across his well defined face, which had a thick five o'clock shadow. Not quite a full beard, but close enough. Conor squinted, trying to make out more features. Then he noticed the extended arm with an open hand. His glasses rested in the palm of the gauntlet, glinting in what seemed to be purple light from the flames. He grabbed the glasses and slid them slowly onto his face, carefully adjusting them to make sure they were on straight. Then he looked once more upon the man. A battle worn face locked eyes with him, dotted with the occasional scar. A large white patch glinted on his right ear. The man’s dark blue eyes peered intently at Conor as he once again reiterated those strange sounds. What was he saying? A large hammer with a sword for a shaft lay gleaming next to the fire, an old fashioned flintlock pistol resting on top of it.
After a pause the man tried again. “Better?” He questioned in a thick Russian accent. It took Conor a few seconds to get it through.
“Um … yes. Where are we?” He asked, looking around the clearing and up at the pink clouds.
“Not in Kansas,” the man replied.
“Clearly,” Conor said as he shifted his aching hips to a sitting position, his legs folded up. “Either this is one of the most vivid dreams I’ve ever had in my life, or this is real.”
“Nyet, not a dream. It is real,” he said before reaching into a pouch at his side. “Here,” he said, pulling out what appeared to be a sandwich. “Probably hungry, yes?” he asked, holding the food towards him.
“Um … yes. Thank you,” he said, hesitantly taking the item in question and nibbling it. The salty tang of bacon filled his mouth along with a flood of saliva as his stomach started to rumble. “How long have I been out?” he asked.
“Hours. Didn’t count. Clock under armor,” the man replied as he knocked on the chestplate.
“Oh, okay. So what’s a Russian like you doing in a place like this?”
“Russian?” He questioned. “Nyet, is... Nevermind.” He said after a moment. “Haven’t spoken English in years.”
“How come?” Conor asked, continuing to eat his sandwich as he watched the shadows play across the human’s face. It looked familiar somehow.
“Hardly anyone speaks it here, is dragon tongue.”
“Is what now?”
“Is dragon.” He paused. “Big thing, wings, scales....” He lifted his left hand, said hand igniting in blue fire. “Breathe fire?” He shrugged, his hand extinguishing itself.
“Okay, now I know I’m definitely dreaming.” He was abruptly flicked in the forehead, the metal plating adding to it with a soft clink.
“Is, not, dream.”
“Ow,” Conor said, rubbing his forehead. “Okay, no dream. You still didn’t answer my question though. Where are we?”
“Equis.”
“Never heard of it.”
“What is name?” He asked after a moment.
“Conor. And yours?”
“Viginti,” He replied.
“That sounds Italian. Is that where you’re from?”
“Nyet.”
“So you’re not from Russia, but you keep saying ‘Nyet.’”
“...I like word.”
Conor laughed. “Viginti, you’re one funny guy.”
“Many disagree with that,” He replied. “Is late. Get rest for tomorrow. We move then.”
Conor woke, groaning as he got up to move to the smoldering embers of the fire. The man who had saved him sat brooding next to his hammer. Looking up, he noticed the sky was clear, the clouds were white, and there was no sign of strangeness anymore.
“Morning,” he said by way of greeting.
“Afternoon.”
“Really?”
“No.” He gave a small grin.
Conor chuckled as he looked into the last sparks of the dying fire. “Good one.” He stared for a while longer before turning hesitantly to face the warrior. “Um … thanks for helping me. Last thing I remember I was getting ready to go home. Next thing I know, I’m awake here with you.”
“Discord brought you here,” ‘Viginti’ responded. After a moment he continued. “Unsure if we can get you home.”
The pieces slowly fit together in his mind. The clouds, the noises, the purple flames, and that laughter. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” he muttered under his breath.
“No joke. Unsure on return.”
“Equestria?” He asked, his face flat.
“...Yes. How you know?”
“Don’t know anywhere else with a villain named Discord, pink clouds, and other abnormalities. Only time I’ve seen something like that has been on My Little Pony when he tried to take over Ponyville.”
“Not right time. Is before that.”
“What do you mean not the right time?”
“Time is… Wibbly Wobbly.” He said after a pause.
“... Timey Wimey?”
“No, you crazy.”
“Says the man in the armor toting a massive hammer who can conjure fire out of thin air.”
“Is mostly normal.”
“I guess for Equestria, that would be. You wouldn’t happen to -” Conor was cut off suddenly by a loud whirring sound fading in and out coming from nearby. “I know that sound.”
“Come. We go.” Viginti said as he stood up, grabbing his equipment. Conor picked up his violin case, slung the strap over his shoulder, and followed as they made their way towards the sound.
After a brief walk the two found themselves in a clearing, a tall blue police box sitting atop a small hill. Viginti kept walking towards the box, the doors opening on their own as he walked in. “Took you awhile, Doctor,” He said, his accent now gone.
A taller Unicorn stallion with a brown mess of mane and an hourglass cutie mark came to the door. He wore an absurdly long, but colourful scarf that had to be wrapped around his neck three times simply to keep the ends from tripping him as he walked. “Excuse me. Who are you then? And why in the devil did she open for you?”
“Sensors identify humans,” a familiar robotic canine said as he rolled over to them.
“Oh my goodness. Oh. My. Goodness. That’s K-9! C’mere, boy. Let me get a better look at you,” Conor said, excited beyond all belief as he walked to the robotic canine.
“I’m an old friend, Doc. But one you haven’t met yet, it seems. Though perhaps you know me by my other name. Hammer Strike?”
“Hammer Strike? Hmm… I seem to recall an incident involving weeping pegasi. I believe I gave you a lift?” he asked.
“Yeah, Third Gryphon War, or forty years before it really. Need a trip back to my time. He’s coming with.”
“What in the devil has Discord gotten up to now?” the time pony sighed as he started flicking switches and pressing buttons.
“Let’s just say he’s pulling people through the wall between universes without spreading cracks. By the way, the name’s Conor. It’s an honor to make your acquaintance,” he said, extending a hand to the pony.
“Oh, I know you. Years ago… something about Zebrica. Fascinating people, the zebras. You know, sadly, I've never had the chance to be one.” The Doctor shrugged as he worked. There was a shudder as a white light flashed. “And here we are.”
“Aww, so soon? And I was hoping to get to know you better.” Conor sighed.
“You will, my boy. You will.” He flipped a switch and the door opened. “Don`t worry about that.”
“Now, if you would excuse me, I have something I need to do. Conor, you wait here,” Shawn said as he moved towards the exit. Opening it, he saw Grif being held back by Applejack and Rainbow Dash. All the three stared, gawking at the T.A.R.D.I.S. Pensword was hovering off the ground, his eyes focused on the blue box. In fact, all eyes were on it.
Shawn stepped out of the threshold, snapping his fingers as the doors slammed shut behind him. After viewing the group his eyes settled on Discord. Within seconds fire began to seep once again from the gaps in his armor. He continued forward, giving a piercing glare at the chaos entity. Grabbing the helmet on his hip, he unclipped it and threw it to the ground off to the side. Next came the flintlock holster as he unbuckled it and let it drop. Finally, the straps holding his weapon and shield followed. As each piece of equipment fell off of him the flames grew in intensity.
“Well, I see you made it back,” Discord said. He opened his mouth to speak again only for Shawn's fist to collide with his jaw, slamming him onto the floor. Before he could do anything else a boot was slammed into his chest and then placed on his throat.
Pensword smiled wide with unrestrained malice. “Oh, Discord’s in trouble,” he sing-songed.
Twilight, her heart filled with fear and worry for Discord, as well as what the Princesses might do should he be harmed so soon after his release, quickly enveloped Shawn in her aura of purple magic to pull him back as she gasped in pain. Her horn glowed white from heat. “I ... I can’t touch him,” she gasped in fear and confusion.
“Discord,” Shawn said, his voice flat and deadly. “You heed my warning or I will ensure you will not exist on this plane of existence any longer,” Shawn started, putting more pressure on the draconequus’ neck, his hands clenched into fists of rage. “If you ever pull some stunt like that again, both sending me away, and what you did in the past…” He opened his left hand to reveal a blackened crystal. “You see this? I’m sure you know what it is.”
Discord’s eyes widened. His mouth dropped open. “That’s not possible.”
“It is. And should you ever do something like this again I will drain enough chaotic energy out of you to cease your existence on this planet,” Shawn said as he placed even more weight on Discord’s neck. “Am, I, Understood?” He growled.
Discord stared into those burning eyes. Rage smoldered undisguised, completely unhindered by any sort of moral restraint. This was not the softness of Celestia’s eyes, nor the controlled chaos of Luna’s. These eyes made it perfectly clear that this creature would do whatever he felt was necessary, no matter what it entailed. The draconequus just nodded. For the first time in a long time, true fear had shaken the heart of the lord of chaos.
“You’d better,” Shawn finished as he removed his boot from Discord’s neck. “For your sake.” He turned and walked towards the Tardis once more, his flames reducing to dim wicks of their former selves through sheer effort of will as he picked up his implements of war. “Pensword, Grif, you are to remain here and make sure he doesn’t try anything even close to what he did with me. If he does, you send word to me and this place will be lacking another creature of chaos.”
Pensword nodded his head and saluted from the air. “Understood, Lord Shawn.” He glared at Discord. “I have my eyes on you.”
“Oh, but you wouldn’t want to impose on poor Fluttershy, would you? I don’t think she’d be able to handle a full house,” Discord replied as he picked the pegasus up and gave her a noogie.
Fluttershy looked nervous. “Oh dear,” she whispered.
“I’ll be fine sleeping in a cloud above the house,” Grif said
“Make that two clouds above the cottage. Discord, you just got two watchers,” Pensword growled as he landed. “Lord Shawn, please inform Lunar Fang that I will not be able to eat dinner with her tonight. I apologize for that,” he said, his eyes still on his target.
“Planned on it,” Shawn replied as he continued back towards the T.A.R.D.I.S., all of his equipment back on him again.
“Now, I know why I’m angry,” Grif said. “I know why he`s angry,” He gestured to Pensword. “But you were royally livid considering the time travel was a minor inconvenience at best. What did he do?”
“He did enough,” Shawn replied as he walked into the T.A.R.D.I.S. “I’ll tell you more when I’m not clouded by anger.” The doors closed silently behind him as the familiar whirring filled the clearing.
“Fair enough,” Grif said as the T.A.R.D.I.S. faded out of sight.
Shawn led the way on the road towards New Unity. He didn’t say much to Conor as he wasn’t feeling up to starting conversation. If Conor wanted to talk, he would talk. The Doctor had dropped them off just half a mile away, though Conor had had difficulty leaving the ship at first, he followed “Viginti” without complaint. After seeing how angry he was, he knew now was not the time for conversation, and followed meekly behind. The fire around his arms had died down five minutes ago.
“Quiet, aren’t you?” Shawn questioned aloud, the silence finally getting to him.
“I didn’t want to make you more upset. I figured silence was best,” Conor responded.
“You aren’t the cause of my anger. Well, you are, but not for something you did.”
“You realize that makes little to no sense, right?”
“Discord brought you here, that is why I am upset.”
“So what? If this really is Equestria, then the princesses will likely know a spell to get us back home eventually, right? It’s kind of how the natural laws work here from what I’ve seen. Though I’m not exactly an expert on the subject. That’s more my friends,” he said, frowning.
“I doubt they will figure out a spell to send us back, but then again they could prove me wrong, which would be wonderful,” Shawn said before pausing. “We’re here.”
Conor looked up at the formidable castle walls, whistling at the bridge where the pony guards lay in wait before the great portcullis and mighty oak doors. “Wow.” he glimpsed back at the gnarled purple trees as something clicked in his mind. “Wait a minute … this isn’t the Princesses’ old castle is it?”
“New Unity. The name of the place is now New Unity. Once the capital of Equestria, but it fell apart. We are rebuilding at this time, and soon we will rebuild it to the city it once was.”
“What made it fall?”
After a pause Shawn continued. “Troubled times. But those times have passed.”
“Fair enough. But I still don’t see where you figure in all this, Viginti. Why are all the guards saluting you?”
“The name is Shawn. Sorry for the lie, but I had to ensure that my name wasn’t put into the history books,” Shawn told him as he gestured to the castle’s innards. “I am the Lord of New Unity.”
Conor’s eyes widened as he eyed the troops both airborne and ground as they went through training exercises. Larger Earth Ponies were hard at work bracing support beams while the gryphons worked to add proper foundations to the walls. Others were sparring one another, honing their skills as shouts filled the air. A silver unicorn watched on with a nod of approval beside a deep blue thestral. “... Woah.”
“Come. I will show you to where you will be staying and where you can find me should you need my attention for something.”
“Thanks,” Conor said as they walked into the keep. “You know, I have a friend named Shawn back home. He was a pretty serious guy. A lot like you, actually,” he said casually as he looked at the old tapestries. “How long have you been here anyways?” he asked curiously.
“Around forty years or so.” Shawn replied.
“Dang. You look good for … I hate to be impolite, but just how old are you?” he asked timidly.
“Old enough, but I still have plenty of years to go before it is my time.”
“Hey, I just noticed. Your accent’s gone. Guess it just took you a while to get fluent again.”
“Takes time to readjust to a language again, yes,” He replied. “I still have to figure something out to help you understand the others…”
“I’m sure you’ll think of something. This is Equestria after all.”
“Perhaps a spell or…” Shawn paused as something clicked. “Or… an artifact that I may still have…”
Pensword flew next to Grif as he looked back towards Ponyville. “That has to have been the strangest day of my life. From the Tea Party to what had to be some of the most engineer savvy Beavers in all Equis.”
“That’s beavers for you. They can do big things in such a short time. I feel sorry for them, though,” Grif said. “As if Discord didn't give me enough to be angry with”
“Yeah, but what worries me is what got Shawn so angry.” He shook his head. “Why do you feel sorry for them?” He smiled a little. “ I can see your compound coming along nicely from up here.”
“Beavers are the symbol of Canada,” Grif reminded Pensword. “Or one of them anyway.”
“Ah, that makes sense. I was not sure, so I wanted to make sure.” He looked down and smiled. “Well, Shawn’s waiting for us on the ramparts. We should bank and land. I think he has something to tell us. At least he is not the human torch at the moment.”
“After you, commander.” Grif laughed, gesturing.
With that, Pensword banked and alighted with a perfect grace as he waited for Grif to land beside him. That done, the two turned to face the human lord’s grave expression.
“So, you feel like talking to us now? Or should we wait a little longer to let you cool down?” Grif asked.
“It’s been several hours. Has Discord been dealt with, or am I needed?”
Pensword looked to Grif. “Discord has promised to use his powers for Good. We left when they started to discuss where he would be staying. However, I think he has a friend now.”
“Good. Should he do anything though, I will find out and deal with him,” Shawn finished. “Come, I have something to show you both.”
“Yeah. Kinda figured you did,” Grif said. “Lead the way.” Pensword nodded in agreement and began to follow, remaining silent as he looked around, most likely for Lunar Fang.
A few minutes later they stood before Shawn’s study. “This,” Shawn said emphatically, “Is why Discord earned my fury.” He placed his hand on the door. “Conor, got friends for you to meet,” he called as he pushed it open.
Pensword looked to Grif as he mouthed the name, his muzzle an “O” of confusion. “Why does that sound familiar?” he asked in Equestrian.
“Why does that raise the feathers on the back of my neck?” Grif asked.
A rather shy and somewhat tubby individual stepped out from behind the door, his face cloaked in shadow until he stepped into the torch light. “Um … hi,” he said nervously as the gold flecks in his eyes danced in the torchlight, his head hung low. His thinning dirty blonde hair and glasses completed his ensemble with a simple pair of bluejeans and a red polo while a familiar looking amulet hung around his neck.
The Navy Blue Pegasus with white mane and tail just stared at the individual. “Another Human!” he spoke in shock. “Discord…. brought a human into Equestria? Is he trying to get us killed?”
“Pensword, look who the human is! Don’t you recognise him?” Grif reached for his bracer switching back to Taze in a flash of light. “And here I thought I’d never see any of the guys again,” he said, smiling.
Pensword looked put out at seeing Grif become Taze. “I recognize the face… I just do not believe it… of all the humans, why-?” He cut himself off before his ears swiveled as he remained on his guard.
“... I know that face,” Conor said, walking up to the former gryphon. “... Taze? Taze, is that you?”
Taze embraced Conor, fully forgetting that in the month he had been here he had put on a good few pounds of muscle. He squeezed with everything he had. “Good to see you, Omni.”
Conor gasped out a laugh. “Too … tight,” he said, letting out a wheezy chuckle.
“Sorry,” Taze said, letting go. “I've been working out. Sometimes I forget my own strength.”
“So if you’re here does that mean Vulpix is too?”
“You want to hide something, hide it in plain sight.” Taze grinned.
“You don’t mean …” Conor said, eying the pegasus as he put two and two together. The Pegasus just returned the stare waiting for Conor to finish what he started.
Taze tapped the tip of his nose and smiled mischievously.
“Vulpix? Is that you?” Conor asked, walking up to the Pegasus.
Before the Pegasus could respond a Thestral that with light bluish grey fur and full armor covering her barrel walked in. The guards at her flans hid her cutie mark from sight. Her mane and tail were visible which was a golden stray coloration. Her build was lean and fit. Her large emerald eyes and black slitted pupils caught the human by surprise as she walked up and smiled, kissing the pegasus on the cheek before pulling a double take. “Another Human?” she asked. “Dear, what’s going on? You, you don’t have to go do you?”
“No,” The Pegasus responded. “This is Discord’s doing.” He gave Lunar Fang an ‘I will tell you later,’ look before the turned back to Conor, smiling weakly. “Omni, It is good to see you. I, I go by Pensword now. And, well,” he moved a wing, wrapping it over the back of the Thestral. “Omni, meet Lunar Fang. Lunar Fang, meet another of my friends.” He turned and kissed her on the muzzle. “This is my Wife, or by Thestral standards, my Life Mate.” He smiled a little. “How’s Moon River?” He asked Lunar Fang.
“She’s napping,” Lunar Fang replied, unsure of what her Life Mate was getting at.
“O-kayyyyy then, can somebody please explain what’s going on here?” Conor asked, looking to Shawn. “You too, Shawn. I don’t like when my friends deceive me.”
“He married and had a child,” Shawn replied as he moved to sit at his desk.
“We've been here a long time, Omni. You might say we've had the option of not going native removed from us a while back… a lot has happened in the past.” Grif said as he looked to Shawn. “Four months?”
“Speaking of back, why hasn’t Vulpix turned human again?” Conor asked.
Pensword looked to the ground and scuffed a hoof, tracing a pattern only he could see. Grif looked to Shawn, as if expecting him to answer for the group.
“... After the transformation to turn him into who he is now, the valves in his heart were turned to flesh and blood. The transformation back, however, the princesses had no idea of how to recreate such things and thus his heart gave out.” Shawn told Conor.
“He died?”
“Essentially, but we were able to switch his form back to his Pegasus side, which in turn kickstarted his heart again.”
“I am half Thestral, you know,” Pensword replied with a huff, showing his ear tufts and fangs.
“Not at the time, you weren’t.”
“Touche,” Pensword muttered while Lunar Fang giggled into a hoof.
“Alright, species swap and shipping aside, you said you’ve only been gone for four months?” Conor said skeptically. “It’s been almost two years since you guys disappeared.”
“One month is thirty five days. We arrived on the equivalent of November first. Then there were a few events, and… okay. Omni I will need more than just ten minutes to tell you everything that has happened. Do you mind if I go get one of the conference rooms ready, with snacks? What do you want to drink? I think we can provide a Guard Cookie for you if you’re hungry.” He shook his head before looking to Lunar Fang. “Dear, could you get my journals, maps, and the tools for me? Also, the Sugar Cane. Lots and lots of sugarcane.”
“Should I get your usual pot of tea?” She asked.
“Yes, please.” Pensword replied. “Just hold your questions till the very end.”
“So let me get this straight,” Conor said as he took a long sip from his glass of water. “For the last two years approximately my time, you guys have met The Doctor thrice, time traveled with his daughter, faced off toe to toe against Sombra, Massacred the Eques-” he paused, eying the glare from Pensword. “Sorry, the Equis equivalent of our Third Reich, made friends with a centuries old dragon-”
“Don't forget the wizard,” Grif chimed in, having returned to his gryphon form.
“And had dealings with Starswirl the Bearded. Not to mention you becoming commander of all Equestria’s forces and having a foal, you becoming a leader of Gryphon kind and a beacon of hope to the wrongfully oppressed while almost singlehandedly getting the girl, and you, wound up almost dying on multiple occasions, getting the power of the sun, and being officially dubbed a lord in Equestria. Anything I missed?” Conor asked, pointing to each of his friends respectively.
“A few things, but we can cover that later,” Shawn commented.
“We probably missed a few things but we have a wedding happening here in less than a week so things are a bit muddled right now,” Grif noted.
“And you didn’t invite me? I’m hurt,” Conor said, chuckling.
“Actually, there is a place for you.” Grif chuckled. “Just so happens I was still short a groomsman.”
“Why do I get the feeling I’m going to meet Rarity?”
“Do you want to trust any other pony to make you clothing that fits a human?” Pensword asked with a tilt of the head. “I think she is the only seamstress that knows anything about pants in Ponyville.”
“Also the only seamstress who can hold her own in a swordfight,” Grif said proudly.
“I take it you’ve been training her?” Conor asked, smiling warmly. It was good to be amongst friends again, even if he was ripped away from his home for the time being.
“Lets do this the right way,” Grif said. Pulling out a stiletto, he spun it in his talons before offering the handle. “Omni, I offer you my trust and my knife. Your enemies are mine, my family yours. Will you stand for the Bladefeathers at my wedding?” he asked.
Conor held both hands around the gryphon’s own taloned one as he gently took the knife. “It would be my honor,” he said smiling. “I just have one question. When do I get to meet the bride to be?”
“Shrial should be around. I could call her if you want,” Grif said.
“It would be nice to meet her, but first I’d like to make one more request.”
“What’s that?” Grif asked.
“Can I pet you?”
“... Ah, why not? Pride isn't exactly what I’m known for anyway.” Grif shrugged.
Pensword held a bundle wrapped in cloth as he had knocked on the door to his friend’s temporary quarters.
“Yes? Come in,” Conor called. Pensword looked around the hallway, took a deep breath and walked into the room. It was fairly sparse as far as rooms went. A human sized bed, a desk where his black violin case lay, and an empty shelf over to the side against the wall. “Omni. I thought ... Well, here is something for you to read,” Pensword said, placing the bundle on the desk before turning to leave.
“Thanks, Vulpix-”
“Pensword, please. Just Pensword,” the Pony replied, stopping in the door frame. “It has been ages since I last heard that name. It feels ... wrong using it.”
“... I can’t promise to change overnight. You’ve always been Vulpix to me,” Conor said, his voice unusually quiet. “But if that’s what you want, I’ll do my best to remember.”
“Thank you.” Pensword responded, then suddenly turned around. “Well, can I watch you open the gift? I-I haven’t- You would get more out of it then I would.” He frowned. “I’ve seen too much, lived too much, for it to be much use to me now. I just, I am sorry. It hurts to talk about what,” he swallowed, a visible lump going down his throat. “What caused my fire inside me during the Third Gryphon War.”
Conor stood up from his bed, walked over to the pony, knelt down, and embraced his neck. “I know how hard it is to let go of hurt. If you ever need someone, you know where to find me.”
Pensword smiled. “Thank you. Enjoy the reading… Sorry the first page is torn out. I, I couldn’t turn the pages as a Pegasus,” he admitted. “Still, enjoy it.” He sighed. “It will be good to talk to someone who shared the same belief.” He moved to go, but stopped again. “When, when I was in the past, I did not know who I was, nor what I was. I am as much LDS as I am a believer of Faust…. I feel, calm about this. I do not know why, but I am.” He stood up, looking like a small burden was lighter. “Good night Conor.”
“Considering the things we believe, I wouldn’t be surprised if both turned out to be true,” Conor said, smiling. “I do hope we can have a study session from time to time though. I miss having a companion to boss around,” he said teasingly.
“Careful. I am the Commander here,” Pensword responded with a slight smirk showing one fang. Conor just laughed.
“Goodnight, Vul- Pensword,” Conor said as he made his way towards the bed. For now he would have to sleep in the clothes on his back until Rarity could get his measurements. He’d offered to work to earn them, but Shawn insisted on paying for them himself.
“In private you can use Vulpix,” Pensword said half in and out of the door. “Just not in public.” With those words he was gone, closing the door behind him with the skillful manipulation of a wing. Conor was not quite sure how, but he had the distinct impression that Pensword was smiling.
“Rise and shine, buddy!” Grif said with a playful tone as he shook the human’s shoulder. “The sun’ll be up in half an hour,” he said, shaking Conor again. “We got to get you in shape if you're going to last around here.”
Conor opened his eyes blearily, blinking to clear his vision before he slowly sat up and rubbed said eyes to dislodge any sleepers. “In shape?” he asked, still a little slow as he wrestled with his subconscious for control.
“Yeah.” Grif nodded. “Don't worry, I don't expect you to make half of what me and the troops do every morning. But if we start now you might be able to keep up by the running of the leaves.”
“Running of the leaves? Is that some sort of autumn sport?” Conor asked as he shifted his legs over the side of the bed.
“Equestria doesn't do the whole ‘natural weather’ thing. Unfortunately it means that the leaves need to be knocked off artificially. But that's a ways off yet. Don't worry about it. Now come on. The troops should already be nearly done with their morning stretch routine.”
Conor did his best to straighten out the wrinkles in his shirt and pants before pulling his shoes on and tying them up. Not the best for terrain work, but they’d do well enough on a level road. Doing a few brief stretches, he looked up to see Grif had already left the room and immediately raced out the door after him, huffing as he strove to catch up.
Rarity looked up as she hummed to herself, her ear flicking in annoyance as the bell rang. Why did her customers always have to come when she was in the middle of a big project? She sighed, snapping the thread of the needle with her magic after knitting the stitch into place. Then she turned. “Welcome to Carousel Boutique: where everything is Chic and magnif-eek! Why, Lord Hammer Strike, what brings you to my store?” she asked, flustered. Do you need something to annoy Blueblood?” She asked, teasing him as her magic threw a cloth over the mannequin. “Or have you come to try some of my new noble armor designs, perhaps?”
“Not quite. I have something else I require. Due to an event caused by Discord, I would like to request a set of clothing for another human,” he replied. “He will be here some time soon.”
“Another human? I certainly hope he’s not in any trouble,” Rarity said, concern showing on her face. “But yes, yes I can block out the late morning for a fitting. I take it you are going to pay for it?” She asked, smiling at the coming challenge. The battle of generosity had begun.
“Of course.”
“Of course. But I think I would like to at least see how my next stage of development is going. The tests on my newest model show that it can protect you from a few rapier blows, and the cloth won’t even tear this time around.”
“I would enjoy helping you test that.”
“Excellent. Now about this human. Is he another friend of yours?”
“Yes, though I haven’t been able to remember much, considering the last time I saw him was forty years ago.”
Rarity’s eyes gleamed in triumph. “Excellent. Then I get to make this a special gift from me to him. No charge required.”
“You know that isn’t going to work on me, right?”
“And you know that this filly always gets what she wants in the end,” she said, hitting him with the devastating effect of her eyelashes.
“We’ll see how that goes.” Hammer smirked.
“Indeed we will, Lord Hammer Strike. Indeed we will. Shall we dance, milord?” She asked, cocking an eyebrow. Just then, Grif slammed the door open, jogging in with a broad smile on his beak.
“Well, workout’s done,” he said. “He was a few seconds behind me… oh, here he comes!” Grif said holding the door open. “He`s going to need a suit as well, Rarity.”
“For the wedding, I pre-Oh my sweet Celestia!” She cried as Conor came puffing and coughing through the door, his breathing heavily labored.
“That’s … the most … I’ve run … in ages,” he finished with a violent bout of coughing as Rarity levitated a stool for him to sit on and catch his breath. Sweat dripped down his face and had dampened several large patches on his polo.
“What did you do the poor dear?”
“A mile run, ten reps with squats and sit ups, and a few push ups.” Grif shrugged. “Less than a quarter of what the rest of us do.”
“... And it still nearly killed me,” Conor said, chuckling before breaking off into another bout. “Man, do I wish I had my inhaler.” Rarity put a cold compress to the human’s head and about five minutes later he’d simmered down enough to be able to go through a fitting.
“Oh, by the way, the name’s Conor. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Rarity,” the Human said, extending a hand. Rarity looked up.
“How does he do that?” She asked. “He can leave without the bell ringing.” The earth pony that had been there was now gone.
“Who was he?” Conor asked.
“Lord Hammer Strike.” Grif shrugged. “My boss.”
“I didn’t know Equestria had Earth Pony Nobles.”
“They don't have a lot of them, but lord Hammer Strike isn't your average Earth Pony. Some might say he broke the mold, but I find it more likely he blew the mold up,” Grif said, whistling innocently.
Conor laughed. “Oh I missed you, Taze.” Rarity cleared her throat in an imperial manner.
“I believe you are here for a fitting? I only have so much time to work on you and your clothes today if I’m to have the order ready by nightfall.”
“Also, watch it with the names there, Omni. Not everyone’s in on the secret and I'd prefer if it stayed that way,” Grif said before turning to face the filly. “Rarity, you are over the moon about designing for a another human and you know it. You're going to swap the sign the second we`re out the door and be up all night again. So just take some deep breaths and be patient.”
Rarity humphed in a very ladylike manner before she began taking out her measuring implements. “Hmm. He does seem to be a bit on the heavier side. I’ll have to try making a larger size than I did for the rest of you. This will be interesting.”
“Just don’t keep these dimensions on file. You'll be needing new ones soon,” Grif said.
“Like next month probably,” Conor said. Oh, and can I get a belt for my pants too? Just in case? I feel kinda naked without one anyways.”
“I’ll send for some boar leather,” Grif assured Rarity after a moment.
About an hour later Conor stepped down from the pedestal, dry and fully cooled down. He smiled and shook the pony’s hoof. “Thank you so much for everything, Rarity.”
“It’s my pleasure, darling. Anything for a friend of Hammer Strike’s,” she said with a blushing smile. As the three made their way to the door an unusual lump jumped out in Conor’s line of sight as they passed the cash register. “Say, Rarity, what’s that?”
“What’s what, darling?” She asked as the tiny purse caught her eye. “Oh, dear. I hope that isn’t what I think it is.” She dashed over to the drawer and tugged the sack open to reveal a cornucopia of bits staring up at her.
Grif hooked Conor’s sleeve with a talon and yanked him out the door. “Love to stay and chat, Rarity, but we have someone new in town. And I should probably at least try to get him out before Pinky senses him. Surprised she hasn't already, actually. Okay, see you at our next lesson, bye!” he said, slamming the door behind him and pulling Conor away from the building like there was a bomb inside. A few seconds later a loud cry echoed along the winds. “Hammer Strike!” Far away in the forges of New Unity, Hammer Strike smiled.
Pensword opened the door and saw Shawn and Taze sitting in the human sized chairs. He walked towards a cushion that was for him and sat down. “You asked for us, Shawn?” The Pegasus asked as Taze shut the door before surprising him by locking it.
“Where is Conor at the moment?” Shawn asked.
“He is currently eating in the mess hall,” Pensword replied. “Do not worry, I got Fox Feather watching over him. Along with Moon Biter.”
“Alright. So, we need to figure some things out, one being what we are going to do with him in the sense of teaching him how things are and basic information on allies, enemies, and others.”
“We can't leave him defenseless. That much is sure,” Taze said. “I’ve already started working on getting him in shape. You know, in case he needs to run. Which, given our lives, is pretty likely.”
“Right,” Pensword replied with a nod of his head. “I was thinking about lending out the old Changeling Crossbow for target practice. At least till we have our smith here,” He nodded his head towards Shawn. “Make him a custom flintlock. Or his own crossbow. That means time on the range.”
“First we need to figure out preference of weaponry for him,” Shawn replied. “I’ll also have to figure out some defense for him. Something towards what he wants or prefers. Heavy, light, or something else.”
“Right,” Pensword started before looking at Taze, and then Shawn. “What skills should we teach him? I do not know about you two, but I think we need a diplomat for New Unity. Someone that we can send to the Nobles. Because I really do not want to keep meeting with nobles all the time. As well as to have a kind face if any Nobles decide to come here. You remember how Conor was always diplomatic in our conversations back home.”
“Seeing as diplomacy isn't exactly a skill any of us shine at, I don't think we can really teach him. We should start with things he may end up needing in Equestria. I can teach him survival skills and probably some martial defense,” Taze offered.
“I’ll most likely teach him some weapon proficiency with whatever he wants to learn,” Shawn replied. “Possibly some tricks with dealing with nobles as well.”
“I can teach Equestrian History and Equestrian Culture,” Pensword volunteered. “So he doesn’t put his hoof into his muzzle.” He paused and fluffed his wings a little with pride. “After all, I think Celestia can only handle one Grif,” he said with a chuckle.
“Yeah, probably better he learns from you rather than me,” Shawn replied.
“Let’s just hope he never gets forced to go through what we did,” Taze said.
“If he goes through even a fraction of what we have I don’t know what I would do, honestly,” Shawn commented. “It’s bad enough Discord brought him here, but if another thing happens…”
“I guess the best we can do for now is try and prepare him as best we can,” Taze said.
“Yes, and Let’s try to avoid that topic. I do not want to jinx anything. I want one of us to go home normal, happy, and hopefully with letters, journals, and boxes of photos so our families do not worry about us,” Pensword responded with a serious expression.
“On to other matters. It seems, gentlemen, we may have a window back home,” Taze said.
Pensword smiled. “That we do. The question is how do we proceed? I doubt Discord would send us home just like that thanks to how Shawn treated him yesterday.” He hummed a little. “Well, still, I should go grab that list that Twilight is always making around us so we know what to bring back to show our parents… and so we have a list of what we want to bring back with us when we come back to Equestria.”
“We should also look through our collected gemstones and pick some of the finer ones to take with us. You know, for money and stuff. Not a big bag of them, but four or five of the really good ones,” Taze suggested.
“Oh, I plan on that,” Pensword replied. “Plus some coins for my family to keep.” He paused. “Well, I think we will confuse the world.” He started suddenly. “Oh dear,” His eyes widened. “Oh dear, dear, not good.” he looked worried. “We have been gone two years. We are actively missing. We won’t be declared dead for at least seven years from the date of our disappearance. That means that the F.B.I. will be involved. That means that Shawn and I will have to face the feds!” He looked to Taze. “Does that mean You get to deal with Canada’s Federal Government? Or is it Imperial Government?”
“That’ll be an interesting conversation.” Shawn chuckled. “I can see it now, asking where we have been only to hear that we’ve been on another world.”
“That ... we better have proof with us,” Pensword responded cheekily.
“Considering I can spontaneously combust, I’m sure we’ll have proof.”
“I think I'll be fine. I mean I'm Canadian and our feds are notoriously incompetent,” Taze said.
“So. Should we get Omni and talk to him about what he wants to learn?” Pensword asked. “Plus, he still needs to meet more of our troops and our friends.”
“We also need info about home and the condition when he left,” Taze said.
“Agreed,” Pensword replied with a nod of his head.
“A catch up on both ends, catching him up to pace, and catching up on what happened back home,” Shawn replied.
“Then i guess there’s not a lot more to say,” Taze said. “So who will go and talk with Omni? I still have to meet with Shrial and see how everything is going.”
Shawn sat in his study leafing through more paperwork as he scrawled yet another signature. He sighed heavily, shaking his head as the whole problem with Conor came to the forefront. A bright flash of sunlight filled the room suddenly as the radiant form of Celestia with her rainbow mane gently touched down on the floor.
“Hammer Strike, we need to talk.”
“And what is the problem?”
“We are trying to reform discord, not scare him into doing something worse. What were you thinking?”
“What was I thinking? Lets see…” Shawn started, raising his hand and lifting his first finger into the air. “One, he sent me through a rift in time back to the era of his control.” The second followed. “Two, he threatened my life. Three, he did something I would count as nearly unforgivable.” He looked towards her again. “Do you want to know what he did?” He questioned as he stood up from his chair.
“There are few things that ever get you this upset. Did he try to hurt Pensword or Grif?”
“He did worse,” Shawn responded as he turned towards the door. “Enter,” He called out before turning towards Celestia once again. “Say hello to our new guest...”
Pensword opened the door and walked into the room holding it open, giving Princess Celestia a bow before turning to give space for those who were to follow. Grif stormed proudly in, smiling cockilly with a casual wave. Soon after a tall, stout looking figure stepped into the light. Celestia’s eyes widened.
“Uh, hi, your highness. I wasn’t expecting to be meeting you so soon,” Conor said shyly.
“This is what he did, Celestia,” Shawn said, gesturing at Conor. “Someone else taken from their home and brought here against their will.”
Celestia blinked in surprise, then put a hoof to her head and shook it. “Oh, Discord.”
“You really didn't have some sort of plan for him besides the elements?” Grif raised an eyebrow.
“No other contingency or power can influence him. Believe me, we tried.”
“Well I ended up making a backup plan. As I’m sure you heard,” Shawn said, sitting down again.
“Yes. Twilight tells me you held up a stone and Discord was frightened. What did you do?”
“I siphoned some of the chaotic energy from him and I warned him that if he ever tries something like this-” He gestured Conor. “-again, I would kill him.”
“Shawn!” Conor exclaimed.
“To be fair, Conor, I tried to kill him too,” Grif said.
“Same here. After seeing him, well, rift our friend,” Pensword began. “I was ready to cut him into a thousand pieces. It did not help that he could dodge most of the attacks.”
“You two too?” Conor sighed. “Considering all that’s happened I guess I shouldn’t be so surprised.
“Regardless, Discord does seem to be fairly well in hoof now. Fluttershy will be working with him to help adjust to Pony society and the concepts of friendship. All that I ask in the meantime is that you be patient with him and help keep things in order should they get out of hoof. As for your friend,” She said, looking to Conor. “Welcome to Equestria, Conor. Any friend of Hammer Strike’s is a friend of mine.”
“Uh … why does she keep calling you Hammer Strike?” Conor asked.
Shawn reached up and turned the gem on his bracelet. With a flash of light an earth pony now sat where Shawn once had been. His coloration was a tan coat and a brown mane parted down the middle and styled accordingly. His face carried the scars, but with some differences, one major one being that the white patch on his ear was now missing entirely, obviously swiped off. Still wearing his blue and gold overcoat with his dress shirt and vest underneath, the once human, now pony cleared his throat. “This is the reason.”
“... Oh,” Conor said, not exactly sure what else to say.
“Yeah, this is where all the damages happened,” he said before turning towards Celestia. “If you swear Discord is under check and in fine hooves, I’ll trust you on it.” He sighed.
“We are going to have to figure out what to do with your friend here, though. If your enemies should learn of his existence they may seek to use him as leverage. No offense to you, Conor,” she said, smiling weakly. “It’s an unfortunate part of politics.”
“I’ve read enough medieval literature to guess. Grif is working on training me so I can be more fit. Not sure if there are any other plans aside from that yet. I’m still kind of trying to figure out my place in all this.”
“Honestly, we’re all figuring that out,” Hammer replied.
“At least you didn’t show up on Halloween,” Pensword muttered, just loud enough for all to hear. “That was a mess.”
“But a fun game for Luna and I,” Celestia said, chuckling.
“As I recall, Sunbutt, your fun game nearly led to your student going through severe depression and your captain of the guard getting married to a giant love stealing cockroach,” Grif said, annoyed. “And the near death of all of us five times.”
“Those had absolutely nothing to do with it, Grif and you know it. The invasion was an unfortunate event, but it had nothing to do with your charade. You know full well the reasons why we did what we did. So let’s not bring up an old argument, shall we?”
Pensword sighed. “Yes, still, we can have this argument some other time.” He looked to Conor. “I do not know how, but Taze is the only one who can call her that. NEVER call her that. EVER!” He sat down, smiling. “Or I will have to put you in for questioning.”
“Is that a challenge?” Hammer questioned.
“It is not a challenge. You, I don’t know,” he paused and put a hoof to his head. “I just do not know how you two can treat the two like you do.” He sighed. “Then again, who am I to speak?”
“I took care of Celestia and Luna both. It’s my job to embarrass them,” Hammer replied.
“I honestly just don't care enough to be intimidated by them.” Grif shrugged.
“Hammer Strike, you never did that before,” Celestia said, confused.
“I can start if you want.”
Celestia’s eyes widened ever so slightly and her usually calm voice seemed to jump just a little higher than normal. “No, thank you. That’s quite alright,” she said, chuckling nervously.
“I thought so,” Hammer said with a smirk.
“Anyway. So Conor, while she's here do you have any questions the princess can answer for you?” Grif asked.
“Um … am I going to need a disguise like they do?” He asked nervously. “And what exactly is my status right now. I’m technically what would be considered an illegal immigrant, aren’t I?”
“NO!” the three chorused instantly to the idea of conor getting a disguise. Conor recoiled.
“... O-kay then. What about my second question?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. You’re perfectly legal here, even if you aren’t a citizen. After all, my sister and I would never turn out a friend to our ‘father,’” she said, smiling benevolently.
“I wouldn’t bring that up. Where we’re from that would mean I would be king, and that is a terrible idea.” Hammer shuddered.
“If we’ve been able to keep it a secret this long, we’ll be able to keep it longer, Hammer Strike. Don’t worry. Was there anything else you were wondering, Conor?”
“Not really that I can think of right now. I think I’ll ask most of them to Pensword. He’s the history and law buff here, so he’ll probably take care of my basic education,” he said, fingering the amulet. “Oh! Just remembered. Um … is it even possible for a human to learn Equestrian? From what I heard earlier it sounds kind of difficult.”
“We learned it before we had these forms” Grif pointed out.
“I was learning that before, well at least the basics before we had the disguise… I am not going to have you use that amulet as a crutch,” Pensword said in his drill sergeant's voice.
“... I was afraid you were going to say that,” Conor said, sighing heavily.
“Okay, so I know this is kinda stretching it considering it`s less than a week until the wedding,” Grif said to Shrial. “But it`s time for you to meet my final groomsman.” The two were currently in the tower, armor and weapons laid out ready to be polished.
“And you decided to tell me this just as we were about to perform our weapons maintenance?” She asked, confused as she cocked her eyebrow.
“It’s been a very stressful day and a lot has happened. Amongst other things, Discord did something… unpleasant regarding a friend of mine and we have been spending a good portion of today trying to figure out what to do.” He looked into her eyes. “I am deeply sorry I didn’t talk with you about it before.”
“Grif, I’m pretty used to this sort of thing by now. When it comes to you and your friends it seems that it’s only a matter of time before something strange happens. I’m not angry. But I am curious about this new groomsman. Is it another pony?”
“No, it’s another human, like my other form. Just hold on. I’ll call him in.” Opening the door, Grif gestured for someone to enter.
“Hello,” Conor said nervously as he walked in. “I’m Conor. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he said, extending a hand. Shrial took it carefully in her own taloned one.
“Likewise. You speak very good Equestrian,” she said, complimenting him.
Conor chuckled nervously. “I kind of had some help,” he said as he pulled his amulet out from under his polo. “I will be learning soon though. Pensword is going to teach me.”
“Conor, this is Shrial. She saved my soul during the war,” Grif said, smiling. “Shrial, this is Conor, or Omni as I sometimes call him. He’s a good friend from back home.”
“Thanks for the introduction, Ta … sorry, Grif. But I think it was just a little redundant on my end,” Conor said, chuckling. “You know, you really are beautiful,” he said, turning back to Shrial. Thanks for taking care of him. I’m sure you found out just how much of a handful he can be sometimes,” he said, winking teasingly at Grif.
“Oh, I don’t know. I kind of like him that way. It makes it more fun when we fight. And if he does get out of line, I get the chance to clobber him,” she said, following Conor’s example. “I think I like this human already.”
“It’s hard not to.” Grif laughed. “He is one of the best friends I've known for a long time. And while I wish no one else had to be pulled from their home, I'm kinda glad it was him.” Grif looked at Conor with a smile. “What with my first wedding coming up so soon.”
“And it will be my honor to be a part of it. I may even have a surprise or two in store for you,” Conor said mischievously.
“Well we got alot of polishing and sharpening to do,” Grif said looking back at the table. “You’re welcome to watch, but it’s not a very exciting process.”
“I understand. I think I’ll leave you two lovebirds to your fun. I have some exploring to do anyways. Catch you later,” he said, smiling as he closed the door behind him. The pair looked at one another and smirked as they drew together for a passionate kiss.
Grif stood in his tower, proud and calm as he counted down the time from now to the ceremony later that day, the picture of poise. … Okay, that wasn't true. He was pacing around like crazy.
“What am I doing? I’m not ready for this. I can barely look after myself. What am I thinking getting married?” He rambled on as he had for the last half hour. He looked to Pensword with a frantic expression. “How did you do this?” he asked.
“Well it was you who kept me calm,” his friend replied. “Also, you did ask her to marry you. What you are doing is taking a step into the darkness and showing courage in something that I have been told is sometimes more scary than the battlefield.” Pensword gave his friend an inquisitive look. “Was that before or after you came to Equestria on looking after yourself? Because I think you are thinking back to Earth. And, by the way, I think you are going to do fine.”
“I've nearly died almost six times since we've been here,” Grif said. “How is that responsible?”
“You also almost killed your wife to be in a rage,” Pensword reminded him with a sour look. “I was going to allow it too.” He sighed. “But she will keep your head on straight. She’ll become a reason to be a little less reckless, and I doubt that she would let you have all the danger to yourself.” He smiled. “Also, she will become your confidante, the one you can share secrets, fears, hopes, and dreams with. As the good book did say, when a man and a woman join in marriage, they become one flesh.” He held a wing up. “Yes, I know I am paraphrasing.”
“How exactly did a smart person like you become friends with a fool?” Grif asked, smiling as he took a few deep breaths.
“I think it was when we debated history that one time through instant messages, while at the same time discussing the new Pokèmon game that was to come out. I still have to say, I would not have it any other way.”
“So my best man, or stallion, or whatever, what's our plans?” Grif asked.
“Well, the wedding will occur after lunch, but before dinner. After the wedding ceremony the dinner feast will be held in the Feasting halls. We’ll then move out to the courtyard under the sky to allow cloud tables and sparring, as well as tests of combat, fitness, and a few other forms of entertainment for the happy couple and guests. After the two of you have had your fill, you shall retreat to your quarters for the night. Then in the morning the two of you shall go on your first joint mission as the old term goes, or Honeymoon as humans call it.”
“Okay, I meant more what do we do in the more immediate future?” Grif asked.
“Well, I was thinking you check on any of the items you needed for the ceremony and we hold lunch up here in this area while Shrial has use of my living room area for her preparations. Still amazing how many rooms are still needing to be fixed up.” Pensword shook his head as if to derail his thoughts. “Stay on topic,” He muttered before looking at Grif. “Also I think you wanted to meet with all your Groomsmen for any last minute instructions.”
“Thanks,” Grif said. “You'd think today, of all days, I'd be more on the ball, but I just can't seem to remember anything right now.” He shook his head.
“You have a very good reason why.” Pensword pointed a wing tip at his suit. “You are getting married.” He paused and looked at his friend. “Now, are you going to behave and treat Princess Celestia at least with a inch of respect? She is here to show that she approves of a Gryphon Clan in Equestria. I know you and her do not see eye to eye much, but please do try and behave. I am asking you as a friend to a friend.”
“I’ll do it for her and for you,” Grif said, indicating Shrial when he said “her.” But that doesn't mean I’m going to go out of my way to be nice.”
“That is all I ask.” Pensword paused. “I am sure Princess Luna is giving the same type of talk to Princess Celestia.” He chuckled. “Let us just pray that things go smoothly,” he said. Then he knocked a hoof against the wooden table.
“If they don't, someone's going to die,” Grif said.
“Let us hope not,” Pensword responded. “Because you know I will help hide the body. Or help you with an alibi if needed.”
Grif turned to face the commander, his eyes fearful and nervous as a foal facing a test. “You think I'm ready for this?” Grif asked his friend.
“Taze … Grif, do you think I was ready for when I got married?” Pensword shook his head. “You will be as ready as you can. This is just, well, we need to show faith at times. This is one of those times.” He opened his wings and took to the air to look his friend eye to eye. “You are ready for this.
“Thanks, Vulpix.” He smiled, hugging his friend.
The Pegasus smiled and returned the hug. “Not a problem.”
Shrial sighed heavily behind the screen, fidgeting in her new armor. Lunar Fang had brought in some family from the Lion Tribe to assist in the work, and Princess Luna, alongside Hammer Strike, had worked to make the armor she now wore. Forged from damascus steel, the breastplate shone an elegant silver with a texture that flowed like water. Occasionally, a hint of blue shone through, the sign of Luna’s handiwork. It reminded her of one of Hammer Strike’s flames. The long emerald green cape glinted in the sunlight as it streamed through her window. A crown of white flowers had been placed upon her head, woven by the old one herself. The silver bracers, specially engraved, were blessed to grant wisdom and patience in union as she raised their young. The ceremonial steel pauldrons added to the overall grandeur of the garb as she prepared to face her judges.
“Alright, I’m coming out. Don’t you dare laugh.” As she came around, Shrial turned to face Kalima, Lunar Fang, Luna, and Little Willow. “... So what do you think?”
“Grif’s going to be speechless.” Little Willow smiled as she embraced her. Shrial smiled nervously.
“You really think so?”
“I think so,” Lunar Fang replied. “I’m looking forward to seeing what he’s like when he’s struck dumb by sheer beauty,” She added with a small giggle.
Luna frowned slightly. “Something is missing.”
“And I know just what that something is,” Kalima said, smiling as she produced a necklace interwoven with jade beads, emeralds, rubies, sapphires, topazes, and various feathers. At its core the phoenix feather burned brightly, granting an aura of warmth and life to the priceless ornament. “We all contributed a little, didn’t we girls?” She said, smiling with her ancient eyes.
“My thestrals collected this jade from deep inside the caves before leaving. Grif respected them well during the war, so they have gifted them to you. The feathers are mine.” Luna smiled proudly.
“These gemstones were amongst my share of the loot from a raid on a gryphon camp. So I guess you could say I was returning them,” Little Willow said, tapping the emeralds and the topazes. “Just remember they also carry an oath that you will do right by my brother, or so help me, I will hunt you down,” she ended with an icy tone.
Shrial laughed as she took Little Willow into an embrace. “Just as any sister should. I won’t betray your trust. Thank you. Thank you, everyone.”
“You’re welcome.” Lunar Fang replied with a laugh.
“Something old and something new. Something special, and something blue.” The old gryphoness sighed and smiled wanly. “I believe you are finally ready, daughter,” Kalima said. “You will make the most beautiful bride the empire has ever seen.”
“To Tartarus with the empire. All I care about is Grif.”
“Hear hear!” They all cheered as they giggled and fawned over her. For this one moment these warriors could put aside their weapons and be women. They took the chance for all it was worth.
“So, Lord Hammer Strike, did you manage to finish my commission on time?” Grif asked nervously.
“Of course. Doesn’t take that long to forge something,” Hammer replied, gesturing to the wrapped object on his back.
Grif took it and checked the wrap for a moment before smiling as he covered the parcel back up. “Thanks, Shawn. This will make everything perfect.” He placed the bundle down carefully as he turned to the armor rack in front of him. “Who'd have thought we'd be here, huh? I mean coming to Equestria, going to war, getting married. It’s been a crazy trip, hasn't it?” he asked his friend, trying to keep his mind grounded.
“A trip on a long road that shows no end. But always a pleasant adventure,” Hammer replied.
“I know you're not one for a lot of emotional stuff, but I wanted to say before the others got here. Thanks for everything you've done till now. I know I'm not always the easiest person to deal with, but it’s meant alot knowing you’ve always had our backs,” Grif said as he worked on the ebony chestplate. Steel tinted green formed the Bladefeather crest, carefully etched into the center.
“I’ll have your backs until the day I die, just as you have mine,” he replied. “We’re still young and have plenty of things ahead of us.”
“Guess that's true.” Grif smiled as he tied on his bracers, each made from an ebony plate with a border of the same green tinted steel that made up his emblem. The pauldrons, likewise, carried a similar scheme, cleverly crafted with three articulated plates which allowed them to move with the shoulder muscles.
The door opened quickly on its oiled hinges as Pensword, Tall Oak, and Conor all walked in. Tall Oak maintained his flat expression, but Conor smiled with the Pegasus commander, their suits a perfect mirror to one another.
“I gotta say, Grif, Rarity does good work,” Conor said, adjusting the cuffs of his sleeves. “Did she make that cape for you too?”
Grif smiled as he finished clipping on the ruby red cape. “Yeah. It’s supposed to compliment Shiral’s coloring. She is apparently going to be wearing a green one.” Grif shrugged. “It’s my wedding. I guess I can survive fashion for one day, right?”
“Well I sure hope so,” Pensword replied with a laugh. “Then again I can not really speak, seeing as my favorite uniform was the Class A’s and a three-piece suit.”
Grif looked to Tall Oak, putting a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Mac’s a good pony, Oak. And the Apples have a strict code about things. You need to trust her on this.”
Tall Oak looked at Grif. The large stallion didn`t say much, but over time you got to understand him. He kicked the ground a few times, but nodded to his brother.
“Besides, he may be big, but if he does anything to her then we'll both hunt him down together. Now come on, cheer up. I can't go out there until I know you're going to be okay.”
“I guess I'm just being foalish,” Oak said grinning at Grif. He bumped his hoof against Grif’s talon and the two brothers seemed satisfied.
Grif picked up the bundle and strapped it to his back. He looked to Conor. “It’s been a while, so I just want to double check. You’re not squeamish around blood, right?” he asked.
“How much blood are we talking here?” Conor asked.
“If everything goes well, less than a thimble full. If unwanted guests show up…” Grif looked out the window. “Well, there are a lot of weapons down there, and a good number of ponies who know how to use them.”
“I think I get the gist. I’m not the biggest fan of blood, and I’ve never really been exposed to this kind of situation before. But I think I can handle it alright. If I can’t, I’ll find a way to change it.”
“Could be worse.” Grif shrugged as he double checked the fittings on his bracers. “Could be Game of Thrones.”
“Don’t even mention that abomination of a series, I beg of you,” Conor said vehemently.
“Oh my. Not that series,” Pensword replied. “Wait, it is a book series? I thought it was just a TV Show.”
“Pensword, you know my admiration for books and how I despise the idea of treating them badly?” Grif asked
“I do know that.” Pensword replied, intrigued.
“I read three chapters of the first book, then I burnt it,” Grif said as he strapped a more ornate set of daggers to his body.
“Okay then, I shall not be looking this book series up. Thank you for this information.”
“So, is everybody ready?” Grif asked as he finished tightening his harness.
“Yes, I am,” Pensword replied with a smile and puffing of his chest.
“I was born ready,” Conor said, laughing.
Pensword moved a wing over his muzzle to hide his own laughter. “I sure hope so,” he spoke into his wing.
“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Hammer commented.
Tall Oak just nodded. With a deep breath and a gulp Grif also nodded. “Gentlemen, I think it’s time,” he said, opening the door and striding out. Pensword followed close behind, after which the two earth ponies and the human walked in a solemn procession in the rear. The time had come at last.
The courtyard was packed with Gryphons, Thestrals, Pegasi, Earth Ponies, and Unicorns from all over. The dress varied from full armor to regular dress suits. Surrounding the walls around the seated guests, groups from all four of New Untiy’s combat troops stood at attention in full armor. A raised platform stood in front of the rows of seats with a deep blue carpet laid across the ground from the doors of New Unity to the platform. Kalima waited patiently, dressed in a woven shawl of black and red with silver and green stripes along the edges. In front of her stood a small table on which a black cushion rested. Atop the cushion, a fair sized amethyst lay sparkling in the sun. Near the front of the groom’s side, the first two rows had been reserved for the Ponyville foals, who sat, surprisingly well behaved. This was at no small amount of shock to their families.
Grif walked down the aisle followed by his groomsmen at a careful pace. Beside him, stalking peacefully, was Sylvio Lupus. Now fully grown, the timberwolf stood almost as tall as Grif himself. As the gryphon approached the altar, he noticed many eyes were drawn to Conor as Pensword took his place behind Grif, then Tall Oak, then Hammer Strike, and lastly, the human. Sylvio lay faithfully on the ground near his master’s feet. Taking another deep breath, Grif looked around the platform that had been carefully lined with flowers. Rarity had a fit when they had told her their choices. The lilies went with the color scheme well enough, but the marigolds seemed to clash with the darker tones as the bright golden flowers shone happily in the sunlight.
Kalima leaned in. “Don’t be nervous, my son. All will turn out for the best. And more are here to see this event than you know.”
“I've fought in battles against impossible odds without the slightest bit of nerves. So why does this make me so terrified?” he asked her.
“Because it is right,” she said simply. “I’d prepare myself if I were you. Your radiant bride is about to make an entrance,” she said, smiling mischievously. A brazen fanfare filled the courtyard, ascending to the skies as a platoon of pegasi, thestrals, and gryphons flew in file, blowing their trumpets. A choir began to sing as the gates opened a second time. Out stepped Shrial, flowing like water as she strode forward at an even pace. Her steel armor shone like silver in the sun, accentuating her flaming feathers as the green cape billowed behind her in a sudden wind that blew through. The crown of flowers made the perfect touch, granting a look of serene beauty mixed with the warrior’s fire that burned in her shining eyes.
The moment Grif saw her, time seemed to slow. The cold feeling in his gut left in an instant as he looked at her. This was right. This was what needed to happen. All the worrying melted away as he watched her approach. As she prepared to ascend the platform, Grif offered her his talon, gripping hers softly as she took his.
“Forever,” he mouthed to her silently with a smile.
“And always,” she mouthed back. Kalima cleared her throat and all fell into silence.
“Ponies, Gryphons, Human, and Timber Wolf, we are gathered here today to witness a most historic event. For countless centuries the love of this pair has been tested and tried. Through war and rage. Through tears and loss. Through death and rebirth. Throughout the corridors of time these two warriors have persevered. And against all odds they now stand before us today, ready to enter into the bonds of holy matrimony, blessed to be together for time and all eternity in this life, and upon the winds so long as they shall prove faithful. Their love is deep, their loyalties true. And the time now has come to seal this union in the annals of time. However, before we proceed, are there any words the betrothed may have to offer?” Kalima asked, a merry twinkle in her eye.
Grif unstrapped the bundle on his back. “All I've ever known has been the way of the warrior,” he began as he opened the bundle, revealing a new sword, a little longer than Shrial’s current blade. It shone in the sun, forged from crystal steel, but in such a way that veins of orichalcum ran through the blade. Straight and true, the blade was sharpened on both ends with a thin, barely notable fuller running down from tip to guard. The cross hilt curved down towards the wielder, giving him or her the full ability to catch and deflect strikes. The handle itself was forged of highly polished steel with black leather binding the handle. The pommel was shaped to hold a gemstone within it, however, rather than a single full gemstone the space was shared by a half moon shaped emerald mirrored by a ruby.
“When I first took you in as my student I gave you a sword. A fine sword made by a fine smith, but not the greatest smith. That sword was to protect you in battle, but it seems a lot of the time you just used it to defend me.” This inspired a few laughs from the audience. “I was short tempered, but you endured. I was rash, but you endured. I was so so stupid, but you endured. You are beautiful in form, but you are far more beautiful in your heart. And this was my best, yet sadly lacking attempt to bring some of that beauty out into a weapon worthy of defending you. Here I stand, no longer your teacher. Just a stupid, stupid bird who is far more lucky to be here with you than anyone should ever hope to be. And so, as I cannot offer you my heart, I offer you this sword forged by the greatest smith I have known as a sign of how much I love you.” He held it to her. “And how I can only pray one day to be worthy of you.”
Shrial took the sword reverently and placed it upon the table next to the amethyst. “When I first met you, Grif Grafson, I was a bundle of nerves, cowed to obey the empire’s will. I sought to protect young ones from war who were not yet ready to prove themselves in battle. Enraged though you may claim to be, you gave your word of honor not to harm me, or the young ones should we choose to come quietly. You honored your word and your father on that day. You did so again only five days later when I threw myself to your and Pensword’s mercy. Rather than kill me as I had then hoped, you took me, trained me, and prepared me to fight. You showed me the meaning of power and will. Something my father, in his desire to protect me, never did. But more than that, you showed me the meaning of compassion, of love, of humility that I had never before seen in a gryphon. I think I knew then that I would mate with you, or at the very least, remain your loyal friend.
“When you were taken captive by the Gryphons my heart stopped. I knew if I ever could save you I would tear my enemies limb from limb. And then I might do the same to you for being so stupid.” The gryphons balked, then laughed. “Then you surprised me once again, and the whole world, when Grask Grimclaw named you his heir and you manifested as the avatar of winds. You gave me yet another reason to love you. And another reason to keep you in check. I simply had to keep an eye on you now. What better way than to be your wife?” Yet again a wave of chuckles came from the audience once the gryphons finished gasping and gawking at their leader. “But in all seriousness, Grif, I love you. I will always love you. And I would walk into the very pits of Tartarus itself, if need be, to stay with you. We were made for one another because you made me. And for that I am eternally yours. Now, and forever. You gave me your heart and I freely give you mine, for what little it may be worth. Will you have it?”
“It will be my most treasured possession,” he said, smiling at her.
“Good. A wise gryphon once told me that a warrior’s weapon is his or her soul. It is their honor and their name. Another phrase I have heard here in Equestria that I rather like is ‘one good turn deserves another.’ I believe this is true, but I wish to adapt it to the circumstances. Grif Grafson, one good blade deserves another.” Reaching out behind her, Luna and Lunar fang both detached the blades they had on their sword belts and placed them into her waiting talons. “Thus do I bestow upon thee thy legacy, Grif Grafson, even the legacy and gift of thy predecessor. Receive them, Grif, Future Husband, and Avatar of Winds.” She bowed her head and presented the sheathes hilt first to their soon to be master.
With an awed reverence of his own Grif unsheathed them slowly. The twin blades were dark and held no sheen of forged metal. Instead they seemed dull in the light. The material was strange: strong and sturdy, but Grif could not identify what it had been forged from. The back of each blade was perfectly straight to the tip save for a vicious looking spike that stood upwards. The front of the blade held the edge, which despite the dull look of the material, was still lethally sharp. The handles had been reforged from ebony mixed with orichalcum, the cross hilt appearing like a black and orange flame issuing outwards into the blade. A single spike jutted down for a handguard as the handle, bound once again in black leather, ended with a curve into a pommel that seemed to arc inwards.
The blades were identical in every aspect save for the Gryphic writing inscribed into the blades themselves. The right read “vigilance”and its sister proclaimed “vengeance.” Grif held the swords in his hand. Without a swing he could feel the sheer perfection in the balance and the weight. They came to his hand as if forged just for him and him alone. Somewhat eagerly, somewhat reluctantly, he returned them to their sheathes. With the utmost care he strapped them to his back to be fixed to his harness later. Finally, he turned back to Shrial.
“I could not ask for finer blades, but even they will not be my prize today,” Grif said before nodding to Kalima to continue.
Kalima smiled. “Children! Now shall the true ceremonies commence.” She turned to face Grif. “Grif Grafson, leader of the Bladefeather Clan, do you take Shrial Bladefeather to be your lawfully wedded wife? To have and to hold, in sickness and in health, till the winds shall take you from her?”
“I do,” Grif answered.
“And do you, Shrial Bladefeather, take Grif to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, to love and to cherish, in sickness and in health, till the winds shall take you from him?”
“I do,” Shrial said.
“And will the both of you swear to fight to protect one another and to preserve your bloodline, which you are about to create in this world, that they may have honor and a place to call their own throughout the generations?”
“We do,” they said together.
“If anyone should have an objection to why these two souls should be joined, speak now, or forever hold your peace.” The sound of sliding steel rang through the room as swords and daggers were half drawn by pony and gryphon alike, ready to address any objections that might be had. Many nobles gulped. “I highly recommend holding your peace,” Kalima said wryly. A nervous chuckle ran through the crowd. Then Kalima smiled.
“Excellent! Then let the ceremony commence.” Kalima lifted the cushion in her talons and raised it for all to see. “You stand here as witnesses to this sacred event, both living and dead, as these two bind themselves together for time and for all eternity. I call upon the spirits of the four winds to witness this day. Let the blood be drawn. Let the vows be spoken. Let the binding commence.”
Grif held his talons open and spread wide, offering the exposed flesh to Shrial, who quickly made a small cut on one of his fingers before offering hers in turn as Grif did the same. The two placed their cut fingers, one on either side of the amethyst. The prepared stone gently pulled the small trickle of blood into a narrow tunnel leading to its center. The small chamber in the gem’s heart filled partially as they took their fingers away, a small, passionate red spot amidst the calming purple.
“And so the beginning of a new line is born. Grif Bladefeather, Shrial Bladefeather, by the power vested in me by the winds, by virtue of my age, and proof of valor as a veteran of war, I now pronounce you husband and wife. May your lives be filled with joy, happiness, and longevity. You may kiss!”
Shrial immediately took Grif by the armor straps and laid it on him. The courtyard erupted in applause and some less mature wolf whistles. As the two broke apart Grif half turned to the crowd with a dazed look on his face. The newlyweds moved towards the fortress, the bride pulling the groom along as Kalima picked up the sword and jewel.
“Ah, young love,” she said, chuckling. “Go get him, daughter.”
The banquet hall and two smaller halls were packed with long oaken tables set for the guests. The head table was spread out at the front of the room, laid with a long tablecloth made from gold silk that Rarity had insisted on using. As a begrudging compromise, she had consented to Hammer Strike supplying the gold for it. It covered the ten foot table from end to end with a black Bladefeather insignia hanging off the front side for all to see. The general tableware littered the surface. At the center two large chairs contained the new bride and groom with their party spread out across it. The two spent the greater part of an hour greeting well wishers as the guests filtered in. Grif was quite sure he'd already forgotten more names then he could count as the ponies and gryphons filtered past, but somehow he took note of a specific unicorn mare and stallion approaching the table.
“Me-Me, I insist that you drop that ridiculous disguise. This is my wedding and if anyone has trouble with you they can take it up with me,” Grif said to the mare.
“But not everyone here is aware of us,” Me-Me noted. “Would that really be safe?” The stallion at her side looked nervously, first to Me-Me, then to Grif.
“Mutatio, please. I invited you guys because you're like family, and my family shouldn't have to hide who they are here,” Grif said, looking to Shrial for support. The gryphoness nodded, smiling.
“I admit I am curious to see what these friends of yours look like, Grif. I’ve heard much about the two of you. Very much indeed,” she said with a mischievous smirk.
“But there are guards here,” Me-Me said.
“And they will do nothing to you,” Luna encouraged, stepping up behind them. “If you are to show that not all changelings are hostile to Equestria, why not start here?”
Mutatio looked to his Queen. “I shall do what you shall do, my Queen.” He whispered.
“I’m… going to trust you, Grif,” Me-Me said after some contemplation. The room went silent as her form erupted in emerald fire before revealing the new changeling queen. Beside her the Stallion also erupted in a similar, albeit smaller gout of flame, revealing a larger Changeling that most definitely looked male. Mutatio had changed a great deal from the time when Matthew had shot him so long ago. He had grown immensely, standing just a little shorter than his new queen and mate. His body mass had expanded to the point where he was as broad as Big Mac. Great, chitinous plates formed a heavy armor reminiscent of Hammer Strike’s Juggernaut design. His face was more regal, even as a great greenish black curved horn jutted into the air. Six razor sharp green insect wings fluttered nervously, filling the now silent room with their low buzzing.
Pensword waited in his seat, though he did not move. Instead he let loose a knowing smile, remaining calm and at ease.
The hall erupted into screams as mares, stallions, and foals alike ran about in panic. Mutatio and Me-Me both winced as the bedlam continued to escalate. Plates were dashed, tables overturned, and Rarity wept over her poor table clothes as they were stampeded into the dust, leaving all manner of dirty hoofprints on her precious designs. Surprisingly, the guards remained perfectly calm.
“PONIES OF EQUESTRIA. STOP!” Luna shouted. The effect was instantaneous as the entire room froze. Not even a breath was heard as the legendary royal canterlot voice boomed once again in the halls of Unity.
“WE KNOW THAT YOU ALL HAVE BAD MEMORIES REGARDING THE CHANGELINGS. BUT WE ASK YOU TO LOOK UPON THESE TWO. THEY ARE NOT CHRYSALIS, NOR DO THEY RESEMBLE THOSE OF HER ILK!” Luna spoke “THESE CHANGELINGS HAVE COME TO EQUESTRIA TO SEEK PEACE WITH US. WE, THAT IS TO SAY, MY SISTER AND I, BEG YOU TO CEASE THIS POINTLESS PANIC AND GIVE THESE TWO FINE CREATURES A CHANCE. DOST THOU NOT TRUST THINE PRINCESSES?” Luna said, relapsing back into her archaic mode of address. She paused briefly to observe the effects of her actions thus far.
“You seem to be enjoying this,” Celestia whispered at her side as she watched with her ears folded back in annoyance. “I am sure they will calm down soon. But please, remember to use your indoor voice, Sister.”
The diarchy, in an act that recalled the days of old, ignited their horns in unison and quite suddenly time seemed to take a step back. Ponies found themselves back where they had been standing during the revelation. Tables where upright again, plates unbroken, and tablecloths un-stampeded. “NOW LET US GO BACK TO ENJOYING THIS HAPPY DAY.” Luna narrowed her eyes as they turned to slits, her voice growing quiet and full of menace. “Or would you have the stupidity of bigotry ruin this young couple’s start?” She looked around the room with a hard glare. Anyone who would have said something was cowed into silence. Luna nodded in satisfaction to Me-Me as she walked up to the changeling queen. “On behalf of myself and my sister, I welcome you, Queen Me-Me.”
Grif thanked Luna before making a show of joining his talons with Me-Me’s hooves and welcoming her graciously. Grif looked to Pensword as if implying that the support of the commander may help to speed things along.
Pensword stood and held a hoof out to shake with Me-Me and Mutatio. “A pleasure to meet you, Queen Me-Me.” He turned and acted like he was looking at a cheat sheet before looking up. “Drone Mutatio.” He shook the Drone’s hoof before sitting down.
Conor looked around, then down at himself, then at the changelings. “... You guys were holding out on me!” He said, looking to his three friends in shock. “Were you trying to give me a heart attack?”
“It’s not that easy, Omni,” Grif said as Me-Me and Mutatio headed for their seats. “I'm not even sure if what I did there was the right thing to do. But I hope that it will make things easier for them.”
“Either it will, or we will have noble houses marching upon our doors to cleanse us,” Pensword replied. “If they go that way, that will at least bring about more troops for defenses.” He let out a breath. “Still, I just hope we have level heads.” He paused. “Are any of Blueblood’s agents even here at the moment?” He paused and looked to his friend. “Sorry, Grif. Sorry for that.” He tried to smile a little. “Congratulations again.”
“Still, thats a good question. Hold on.” Grif looked around before signaling to a nearby pegasus guard. The guard walked towards Grif. Grif whispered something in his ear and he whispered something in return. “Four agents. Two near the north entrance, two near the east wall.”
“Great. We can expect something within the month,” Pensword responded with a frown.
“He won't be so bold with Luna and Celestia supporting us,” Grif said. “He'll complain, try to publicly deface us, but he’s too cautious to move his king just yet.”
“Right. Which is why I look forward to when Prince Blueblood inherits Baron Blueblood’s seat. At least he wouldn’t be hounding us all the time,” Pensword whispered to Grif. He paused as he looked around before chuckling. “Well, Hammer Strike is still his impassive self. I think he was standing still and blinking as ponies ran around him during the panic.”
“But that's for tomorrow.” Grif smiled, grabbing his goblet and looking to Shrial. “Should we address our guests, my dear?” he asked.
“I suppose so,” she said, in an offhand manner. “They did come all this way after all. It would be rather rude not to, wouldn’t it?” She asked, smirking.
Grif rose to his feet and signaled. Vinyl Scratch tossed a microphone to the head table. Speakers had been set up all over the reception area to ease the communication. “Welcome, my friends. We'd like to start tonight by first of all thanking you all for coming. Our loyal troops of the fort, our friends from Ponyville, the gryphons from my own clan, nobles and honored guests from Canterlot, the Thestrals who came with princess Luna from Y`s,” Grif stopped turned and nodded to the closest group of thestrals with respect. “Both princesses of Equestria, and the queen of the Crystal Empire. Wow, the guest list sounds a lot more fancy than I realized.” This gained a few chuckles. He looked at Shrial and gestured to the closest table, which had been strictly reserved for the Ponyville foals. Then he offered her the mic.
Taking it in her hand, Shrial smiled at the little ones. “And we offer our special thanks to our special guests. To the Cutie Mark Crusaders, the foals of Ponyville Elementary, and all other younglings present. You have been a light and an anchor to my love in ways you cannot imagine. For taking care of my Grif for so long, I thank you. And I very much look forward to next year’s annual snow wars. May the winds bless you to be kind, faithful, and strong as you continue to grow and seek your place in life.” She turned back to her husband, returning the cue to him.
“Now there will be plenty of time to hear us ramble on later. Lets get to what you all came for: the free food!” This comment earned a couple of laughs. “Meat dishes will be served to the west of the room. Vegetarian dishes will be served at the east hall. Now the Cutie Mark Crusaders will be going first with their families. When they are seated the rest of you may go as long as you remain ordered and mind the others around you. The ponies and gryphons in armor have been authorized to throw out trouble makers. Literally. They will lift you off the ground and toss you. So, yeah. You guys can go eat!” Grif said. “Anything you want to add?” he asked Shrial. “Or should we end their suffering?”
Shrial smiled, holding up her own microphone. “Let the feasting begin!” The feasting did begin as the guests got their food. The head table was served a well roasted wild hog that had been hunted the previous day as well as caesar salad, potatoes, corn, peas and carrots, and something Grif had insisted on. Perogies. Shrial was skeptical of the weirdly shaped dumpling-like things, but after tasting them, quickly came to adore them. The food and conversation was enjoyed by all as dinner sped by. The couple had proceeded to cut the first part of what Pinkie referred to as a septuple layered red and blue velvet cake with raspberries,” after which they had proceeded to make a sloppy attempt to feed each other before peices of cake were handed out to all. As desserts were brought out and coffee and tea offered, some of the tables were moved back as benches were hovered in to form a semicircle in the front. Entertainment had started in earnest in this area. The guests in adjoining halls began squeezing in. Fortunately, many had made their exit over time and room was found for all after the outdoor competitions had finished at last.
Grif and Shrial clapped heartily for the victor of a heated fencing match between two gryphons that had just taken place and eagerly awaited the next act. A microphone wrapped in purple magic flew across the room to Twilight Sparkle as she stood up on the makeshift stage beneath the stars of the enchanted ceiling, courtesy of Princess Luna. “Wow, what a great performance. Thank you, Sharp Talon and Blade Edge. You really had us riveted. We’re going to tone things down now with this next performance. A gift from an old and new friend. Please, everyone give a big round of applause for Conor, the human!”
The spotlights flashed onto the stage and Conor stepped up in his tuxedo and microphone. “Grif, I know I’ve only known you for a short while, but I feel like I’ve known you for a lifetime. It was a true honor being asked to be your groomsman. I haven’t had much time to really prepare any gifts because of how recently I arrived in Equestria, but my old friend, Taze, told me this was a song you might enjoy. I hope Shrial will too. With that, he nodded to Vinyl Scratch as a new record hovered into place. The needle fell and a gentle strumming of basic acoustic guitar chords filled the air. Conor took a deep breath, then began to sing, his voice deep and rich.
“Edelweiss, Edelweiss. Every morning you greet me. Small and white, clean and bright, you look happy to meet me. Blossom of snow may you bloom and grow, bloom and grow forever. Edelweiss, Edelweiss, bless my homeland forever.” And as he sang, an awed hush fell over the crowd. Tears fell from many a pony’s eyes. And as he sung, his eyes closed, the little white flowers on Shrial’s crown began to glow, their stamen striking against the petals like little chimes. As he repeated the words again, Twilight joined in, adding her voice in accompaniment. She died off as Conor took the last couple of lines in a solo. Finishing at last, he opened his eyes and smiled, blushing as a crystalline chime filled the room followed by a stunned silence.
“Grif, I hope your marriage will always be a happy one filled with laughter, light, and love. May it remain as pure as the flowers of my ancestors’ homeland. And may it bloom and grow, even as they do, forever. Thank you,” Conor said, bowing.
The room stayed silent for a long time before, finally, with a tear in his eye, Grif stood and clapped loudly. Shrial followed after him and quickly more began stomping or clapping till the room roared with applause. Or at least the pony equivalent of it. “That was beautiful, my friend,” Grif said as Conor returned to the table. Conor blushed, clasping his hands together as he looked around.
“Thanks. I wanted to make it something special,” he said as he embraced the warrior.
Pensword sat there with his eyes half closed as he listened to the song. He sighed as old memories resurfaced. He leaned to his side and placed his muzzle next to Lunar Fang’s.
Grif smiled as he saw the foals yawning and he could see out the window that it was very late. “Well, my friends, I believe it is time for my lovely bride and I to retire for the night. Before we go I just want to make a special mention of thanks to our lovely mistress of ceremonies,” Grif bowed gently towards Twilight. “And the elements of harmony for their help, as well as Commander Pensword and Lunar Fang. And, of course, Lord Hammerstrike, who put more money than he could into this wedding. I mean, seriously, he had a knife to my throat when I tried to pay for the food.” The audience laughed. “Oh, you think I’m joking.” He chuckled, then looked to Shrial. “I'd also like to thank the old one, Kalima, and, of course, my lovely wife, without whom none of this would be possible.” With that, he offered her the microphone.
Shrial took it hesitantly. “I … don’t exactly know what to say. I … well I never really had much of a family before until you all took me in. Ever since then I’ve felt nothing but warmth, safety, and love for all of you. I did have to win one or two over, of course,” she said, winking to Little Willow. “But I think I can honestly say that this is by far one of the absolutely happiest days of my life. I don’t know if my father or mother would approve, but one way or the other, my new mother does. And to have even one parent along with all these other friends and loved ones I’ve gained is boon enough.”
Shrial smiled with tears in her eyes as a gust of wind blew one of the windows open, bringing with it a cloud of white seeds and flower blossoms. They circled the phoenix feather as its brightness increased, spreading to the Topazes as, together, they illuminated the cloud. Two shadows flickered briefly, then solidified. The tears fell freely as the shades caressed her cheeks and placed their necks on hers. Then they blew to Grif, circling him as well and laying their hands upon his head and shoulders. One of them turned and nodded its head in Pensword’s direction. Pensword gave a grim nod in return. Then the light died and they flickered away. The wind blew again and the cloud was gone as quickly as it had come.
“Thank you, Mother … Father,” Shrial whispered, the mike hanging limp at her side.
“Good night my friends,” Grif said as he placed a wing gently over Shrial’s back. “I wish you all a safe trip home and luck in all your future endeavors.” Slowly, Grif pulled Shrial into one last kiss for the crowd before he took to the air and was soon followed by her. The two made a loop around the room before leaving via the same windows the shades had. The guard on duty smiled as the two figures vanished into the tower.
Conor groaned as he flopped onto his bed. The morning exercise had been brutal, and even worse, Black Rook had made sure to push him to his utmost limit. It wasn’t until he’d practically collapsed in a coughing fit that Rook finally believed his warnings and protests. Still, he knew Rook meant well. There were probably plenty of other ponies who tried getting out of exercises with the same excuses. On the plus side, at least he was getting a little better, even if his arms and legs felt like jelly.
He fared little better in language class with Pensword as he tried his best to learn the rudimentary basics of the language. His brain felt practically ready to explode from the effort. How did those foreign speaking missionaries do it? He chuckled. At least the history hadn’t been that bad. Learning about the specifics of a new country, especially Equestria of all places, really intrigued him. He wanted to know all he could about this world, it's kingdoms, races, and cultures. So far he was off to a good start with the preamble to Equestria's founding. As he continued to muse over these ideas, he heard a loud knock at his door.
“Come in!” he called, still looking up to the ceiling.
From the doorway the male Changeling from the Wedding walked into the room. “Greetings, Friend of the Founder,” he spoke as he turned around and closed the door, a smile on his muzzle. “I have come to greet you and give the word of Queen Me-Me that no Changelings under our control will attack you.” He sat down on a cushion in the room, making himself comfortable as he smiled. “At least that is what the Founder wanted me to say, seeing as he said something about history repeating itself.”
“You’re Mutatio, right?” Conor asked.
“Yep,” the Changeling replied. “And you are one of the Humans. You do not plan on shooting any of my children, do you?” He asked, being about as blunt as Grif.
“Why should I? It’s not like I’d really be able to right now anyways. I’m too inexperienced in combat. I’m more of a pacifist really. You can ask my friends. They’ll tell you.”
“A pacifist?” Mutatio replied leaning forward. “I did not know those existed in humans.”
“I’m not inclined to violence. It’s not the way that I was raised. I believe in peaceful solutions and I try to find them. You should’ve seen some of the arguments I had to officiate over when I was back home. Let’s just say that Grif didn’t always have a level head in his debates.”
“I have seen him with the sword, and voice.” Mutatio spoke softly with awe. “If you are able to calm him down at times, then I fear the power you have to impose peace.”
“No, no, mutatio. I don’t impose. I never impose. If you try to impose something you only invite more conflict, more anger, and more hate. The only real way to get someone to do something is if they want to do it of their own free will. I find the best way to do it is to simply be kind, loving, and invite. Then I respect their opinions and let them decide. I may not always agree with the ultimate decision, but I leave it up to them.”
Mutatio paused as he looked at Conor with an expression he could not read. “I may need to get my Queen to meet you,” he finally spoke after a few moments. He moved to stand up. “I am sorry, but I am being called to another location. Being the sole drone of a small hive is a busy job. Have a good day.” He walked to the door. “I am told as well that you are welcomed to visit our hive, if you wish.”
“Thanks for the invitation. I might consider it some time. Though I think I’ll have to ask Grif, Hammer, or Pensword to show me the way.”
“Or you can ask the mare that cleans your room,” Mutatio replied with a chuckle.
“You don’t say,” Conor said, raising an eyebrow as he chuckled. “You guys are good.”
With a smile Mutatio left the room. From the hallway Conor heard a voice. “Hello, Lord Shawn.” A second later Shawn walked into the room, his hands in his pockets.
“Having fun with the training?” He asked.
“Oh yeah, loads of fun,” Conor said, rolling his eyes. “But you can’t deny the results. I’ll get over it after a while.”
“Feel up to something different?” Shawn asked, pulling out a dagger from his pockets.
“What did you have in mind?”
“Perhaps I could teach you a few things when it comes to weapons.” He replied, flipping the dagger in his hand.
“Hmm. Well, considering the fact I don’t even know how to fight, I guess it’s about time I learned. If Equestria is as dangerous as you say, I’m going to need to be prepared.”
“Good to hear. Let’s go,” he said with a grin. “We’ll head to my forge to grab some equipment.”
Conor groaned his way out of bed, his muscles aching and bruised as he hobbled along behind. The more he got his blood flowing, the easier it became to take the pain and loosen up. It was not enjoyable, but it was bearable.
After a brief walk, Shawn opened the door to the forge and entered, looking through a few things before heading towards the back room. “Alright, you get to pick what we start with,” he said, opening the door.
“Um … okay? What’s good for a beginner?” Conor asked as he walked along what appeared to be an infinite number of blades, maces, staves, and other weapons.
“Uh… Yeah,” Shawn said, realizing the dilemma. “Let’s see…” he said, looking around. “Depends on your preference. Do you like light weapons?”
“For now, that’d probably be a yes. I’m not exactly the strongest, so the heavier weapons will likely tire me out too easily until after I get further in my exercises.”
“Let’s start with daggers then, shall we?”
“And cut to the chase?”
“Don’t make me grab real daggers,” Shawn said threateningly.
An hour or so later Conor panted as Shawn tossed the fake dagger back to him.
“Normally I would be cruel in training you, but perhaps we’ll just stick with verbal teaching for now, eh?”
“Thanks. I’m not Celestia, so I just have one request. Be patient with me. Please.”
“Man, are they still going on about that one?” He asked.
“Everyone’s talking about it. It’s not exactly something that just passes into the night. You’re famous, Shawn.”
“Not this version of me.” He replied.
“Uh … sure, Mister Undying.”
“Three almost deaths. Okay, yeah. Still nothing compared to the other.”
“Still noticeable though. Anyways, we’re getting off topic here. Got any advice for me to practice with? It’s not like I have a computer with internet here to write stories with after all. All I can do is practice.”
“Keep in mind the reach you have with it, and don’t grab the pointy end.”
“Gee, thanks,” Conor said sardonically.
“Illa labes sit naturaliter instabilis…” Shawn muttered to himself as he shifted his gaze from the book towards the dark crystal in his hand. His eyes traveled over it a few times, watching the energy spark off of it in random directions. “Est quod, quidem…” He muttered once again.
“What secrets do you contain…?” He pulled the crystal closer to his face before sighing. “What power do you hold…?”
His eyes opened wide as he heard footsteps coming towards his room. He shifted his hands, flipped pages in the book and locked the crystal back in its case, slipping the key into his pocket.
A knock sounded at the door. “Shawn? Hammer Strike?” Pensword’s voice called from behind the door. “Are you in? May I talk a little?”
“Yes, come in,” Shawn replied as he sank back into his chair.
Pensword walked in, using a hind leg to shut the door. He slowly plodded towards his friend, then sat down on his cushion. “Shawn, what are we going to do?” He moved a wing to point to the door. “Should I go find Discord and ask him to send Conor home?”
“It’ll take Discord time to even figure out what he did in the first place to bring him here,” Shawn replied. “I doubt he knows. His magic just works on its own to suit his needs and wants.”
“Still, it would not hurt to follow all the leads we have.” He looked to the wall. “Shawn, if he is stuck, should you make him a minor noble in your court?” Pensword looked at the cushion. “I know you do not like court, but if he is a minor Noble then he will have a little more authority and freedom to move about New Unity.”
“I’ll eventually give him a job and rank. I still need to figure out something for him to do is the thing,” Shawn replied. “Keep him active, but nothing major. Nothing that will get him highly attached to this place before we can send him home.”
“Sounds good.” Pensword replied. “Historian, perhaps?” He frowned. “Still, we should ask him what is new on Earth. Some things should have changed. I mean, we have been gone for two years. I am actually shocked not more time has passed away on Earth.”
“Realities separated by a not so simple field of energy and void, but the time difference isn’t too major. Certainly isn’t a big surprise,” Shawn replied simply.
“What do you mean?” Pensword replied. “What is this about a void?”
“A place in between realities. Something has to keep them from separating,” he replied, his eye giving a small twitch as he spoke.
“Ah, and that is a bad thing?” He asked before pausing himself for a moment. “Still, does that mean Conor, seeing as he went by Discord, and not how we, well, traveled ... does that mean he does or does not have the same field we have?”
“He has no magic,” Shawn replied simply.
“That ... this entire world runs on magic,” Pensword exclaimed. “That is bad news, I fear. Does that book tell you how to give Magic to others?” He frowned. “If he has to stay more than a week, we might have-”
“Pensword! Calm down.” Shawn raised his voice. “He has shown no problems to being around magic. That is not bad news. Should he be here for long I may figure something out, but if I were to try and give him this field there is a chance it could kill him.”
“Okay, sorry,” Pensword replied, taken aback. His ears drooped as he looked down to the floor. “I am just worried.” He looked at a hoof. “There are so few humans in Equestria that, well, I do not know how we all would handle. I just, I am just nervous is all.” He shook his head. “Led troops into death’s door and I am nervous about how Conor will handle Equestria.” He raised his head. “As well as what he might do if he learns just how ruthless I was during the war.”
“Considering he knows I threatened to kill a being of chaos, I’m sure he knows how far I’ll go with things,” Shawn replied.
“Yeah.” Pensword’s ear twitched. “I hear Cosy running about the hallways. If you do not mind, I think I am going to raid the kitchens with him. Try and find that old spark of child wonder I had when I first came here.” He stood up a little. “By your leave?” he asked out of habit before wincing at his question.
“Always asking, aren’t you? Go on.”
“Shawn, even back on Earth, I always asked to be polite.” Pensword spoke with a weary look. “Also, take a break or go for a walk. Go tease Rarity on charity or something. You sound off, and it is concerning me.”
“Stress. It happens to everyone.”
“Still, go for a walk. It should help.” Pensword spoke as he left the office. When he was confident Pensword had gone, Shawn returned to his little side project.
Conor was exploring the corridors of the castle in New Unity when the sound of running hooves assaulted his ears. It gradually grew louder and louder until Pensword and a Unicorn colt came dashing through. The colt, who was sitting on the pegasus’ back with a sack in his muzzle, winked as they bore down on the human. Pensword launched, extending his wings as he flew over Conor’s head before hitting the ground and dashing off once again.
A moment later Lunar Fang walked into the hallway with a good natured chuckle. The foal lay in the cradle of a cloth sack around her barrel as she watched them run past. She did her best to stifle her laughter, for the baby’s sake, when she saw Conor’s expression.
“I can see you saw Pensword playing uncle with Bellecoso. They just raided the kitchen and plan on giving the sweets to the children behind their parents’ backs.” She smiled as she walked up to a respectful distance, her fangs glinting in the light. “It’s good to see him acting like a foal again.”
“Like a foal?” one of the maids asked having come out of one of the rooms. “Pensword never acts like a foal.”
Conor looked to Lunar Fang, who smiled back at him before she responded. “You never saw him before the Third Gryphon War. You should have seen him the first time he handled Lightning, or the time he got to beat me in a race to a cloud.” She sighed with a wistful look. “He may command troops, but one thing he needs to find again is that childlike wonder that was crushed during the war.”
Conor looked at her gravely. “What happened? I know the war was hard on him, but I know he didn’t tell me everything either. I don’t want to push him. I’ve seen what that does to people, especially to veterans. What did the Gryphons do to crush his spirits? It’s pretty hard to get V-” Lunar fang’s glare stopped him cold. “Hard to get Pensword down.”
Lunar Fang looked to Conor long and hard before tossing her head in the direction Pensword had gone. “Ask him. Something like that is only proper that you receive it from, how did you humans say it? The horse’s mouth?” She smiled wanly at the end of the expression. She paused as the foal she cradled in the sack around her barrel stirred. “Oh, you never got to meet Moon River. Pensword did say you should meet her sometime.”
Conor smiled. “I think I should wait a little longer. I know how children often are after they wake from a nap. She’ll need feeding first. Perhaps another time,” he said, smiling sadly as he began to walk off.
“Where are you going? Moon River is a well behaved foal. She likes seeing new ponies, or I guess humans would be term for you?” She asked as she moved to follow at his side, smiling at her use of humor.
“I’m going looking for a horse,” Conor said as he started jogging.
Conor found the “horse” in another of the smaller Courtyards. This one had walls that were barely high enough to be called a story back on Earth. Around the Courtyard a miniature cloud sculpture of a familiar looking city covered the floor. A large sign labeled it as “The Crystal Empire: Bellecoso’s domain. Enter at your own risk.” It was an impressive structure as clouds went, with a massive wall surrounding the central spire. Pensword was talking with Bellecoso. They both stopped mid sentence as Conor walked into the Courtyard.
“Step over or around the city and the wall, please,” the unicorn Colt called out as he looked at the human curiously. “Is that what you looked like once, Pensword?”
“Yes,” Pensword replied, looking at the ground. “I’m still amazed you learned so fast about just who I am.”
“So? You were my general, my guard. I don’t care what you did in your past. You saved my life.” He stomped a hoof in childlike conviction. “So that makes you a hero.” Pensword chuckled and laughed as he ruffled the Unicorn’s mane. “It is good to see you again.” He smiled as he looked around, acting shocked. “Prince Cosy, we have committed a grave error. We have forgotten to offer a guest of the Crystal Empire a cookie.”
Cosy looked equally shocked. “You are quite right. Guard,” he commanded. “Get three cookies from the stores and give them out. One to each of those present.”
“Of course, Prince Cosy,” Pensword replied with a smile. He flew behind the spire and returned with a plate holding three cookies with the emblem of the Crystal Empire embossed in white icing on a blue frosting background. He presented Cosy with the plate as he held it with one of his wings. He then walked over to Conor and offered him a cookie. Conor shuffled nervously.
“I’m sorry, your majesty. I don’t mean to be rude, but I can’t eat that cookie. Every time I try to eat something too sweet or too tangy, I get sick.”
Pensword remained still and looked towards Cosy while at the same time, Cosy looked on with confusion. “But,” he began, “All ponies and beings like sweets.”
“Don’t get me wrong. I love sweets. I just can’t have them when I’m doing other things. It has something to do with the aftertaste lingering in my mouth, I think. It triggers a gag reflex.”
Pensword raised an eyebrow. But Cosy beat them to the punch. “We can get something for the stomach just in case, a mint plant should help if you chew on it.”
“Prince Cosy,” Pensword began. “He is not a pony. I do not think he could chew on a mint plant to help.” He paused. “However, there might be something for the stomach in the medical tents if needed.” He paused. “How about half a cookie?” He asked hoping for a compromise.
“I’d probably need something to get it out of my mouth. If you had something that can get rid of the flavor clinging in the back of my throat I should be okay. Maybe some water and a salty snack?”
Pensword smiled. Without a word he turned around and vanished behind the spire coming back out after a few minutes with two plates, one plate had a glass of water, half of a cookie, and a small dish holding ... was that a block of salt? “One Glass of water with a salt wafer from Seaddle. As well as half a Cookie. Now the blue frosting is a little different. It is made with Crystal Berries.”
“My favorite Food!” Cosy chimed in. “Crystal Berries are the best. A lot sharper than raspberries. Well, the blue ones at least.”
“I guess we’ll see what happens,” Conor said, looking more than a little dubious. “I’ve never tried straight up salt before.”
“Well, it is an Equine delicacy,” Pensword replied. “Now this wafer has not just salt, but a few herbs as well.”
“So it’ll raise my blood pressure, but it’ll also give me healthy stuff.”
“Yep,” Cosy replied without fully understanding what those words meant.
Conor laughed. “Well, let’s give it a shot. If worse comes to worst, I’ll just need to drink a lot of water and sit down with something to distract me while the flavor disappears.”
“Yep,” Pensword responded. “Go on, eat up.” He looked happy as he placed the plate down in front of his friend before moving back to Cosy. He sat down where he picked up his cookie and took a bite to signify that the others could eat as well.
“By your leave, my lord,” Conor said, bowing. He bit into the cookie and soon downed the rest. It tasted just like a Pillsbury holiday sugar cookie. And the berries, while lending the frosting an incredibly tart taste, balanced with the sweet fairly well, giving a savoury type of flavor. Once he finished he drank from his water and immediately began to make use of the salt wafer.
He was shocked to find that with the assistance of the salt wafer he did not get nausea too badly. He still had a slight urge, but nothing he couldn’t handle. He noticed something else. The flavors were bolder than back on Earth.
Pensword smiled. “That cookie is all one hundred percent natural. No additives or preservatives, nor other stuff put into the food of Earth.” He settled onto the ground. “So, Conor, do you have any questions for the prince here?”
“I suppose one of the biggest questions I have is what’s life like over in the Crystal Empire? I’ve never really been there before. Just seen pictures of it.”
Cosy smiled. “Well, it is fun, and exciting, but hard work at the moment. We’re rebuilding after what Sombra did to the Empire,” he began before pausing as they all heard hoofsteps and a pink Alicorn walked into the courtyard with a white Unicorn with blue mane and tail. “Katy!” Cosy shouted as he raced over to the Alicorn.
Pensword stood up. “Queen Cadence,” he replied with a bow.
Queen Cadence looked to Pensword. “Please, just call me Cadence.”
Pensword nodded his head. “Very well. Cadence, what brings you to Cosy’s miniature Crystal Empire?”
“Sadly, I have to take Cosy away from his court. He has to meet with Lord Hammer Strike, and somepony needs to finish packing since we’ll be leaving in the morning. Don’t worry, Cosy, you’ll have plenty more time to bond during your visit to the Gryphon Empire. And next time I come to visit Twilight I can bring Alto with you so you two can have a new playmate.”
“Of course,” Pensword responded. “I will say this. I have missed being able to spend time with all of you.” He paused and shook his head. “I still cannot get over how big you grew and… an Alicorn as well.”
Cadence smiled as her husband shook his head. “Now Shining, be nice. He did save your wife’s life as a filly, after all.”
“Time travel.” Shining Armor muttered darkly.
“I know,” Pensword agreed his face equally grave. The two looked at each other for a moment before they smiled and laughed. “Now Shining Armor, I expect you to help modernize the Crystal Empire militarily speaking. You were Captain of the Guard and I know you will do your job for the Crystal Empire.”
“Of course, Commander,” Shining Armor replied. “Just, thank you,” he finally said before the family left the Courtyard. Pensword waited for a minute before he took to the air and landed on one of the clouds. He looked around, found a suitable cloud, pushed it down a little, then settled again as he looked down on his friend. His expression turned dark as the cloud turned a bleak grey, letting loose a deep rumble. The two friends locked gazes for a few minutes before Pensword finally spoke, breaking the silence. “Conor.” He hesitated, swallowed, then tried again. “Omni, we need to talk.” It was not a statement. It was not a question. It was an order.
“... We need to talk.” The words echoed across the courtyard, carried away on the wind as the two friends eyed one another. For one, it had been but two and a half years since last they had met. For the other, it had been a lifetime.
“I’m glad you agree,” Conor said, looking up at Pensword with an equally serious expression.
Pensword maintained his stare. “Well, you have questions. I can see that. I have led enough troops to know that look: trying to hide but still having doubts.”
“Not doubts. Just concern.”
Pensword looked around the courtyard. “Well, speak, and ask.” He looked back to Conor. “Because until we both get through these questions, we will be walking on eggshells.” He hit a hoof on the cloud, causing a small rumble of thunder to echo as it flashed white. “I will not have us maintain this stalemate any longer. I have lived through many a war and many a battle. There is little that could offend me.”
“But there is much that frightens you,” Conor said as he looked up into his friend’s eyes. Icy blue meeting icy blue as the two icebergs collided.
“Only one thing frightens me,” Pensword growled. “And that is what I did in the past.” He looked to Conor. “You heard us mention the Third Gryphon War. But there are details that I left out.” He paused for a moment before looking down at the cloud. “Do you know what I was called by the Gryphons?”
“No. You didn’t really tell me much.”
“They called me a demon.” He turned his head up as anger flashed in his eyes. “They called me that after they wiped my entire village out. I was in charge of Opposition Forces for the training command. Then one night ... one night,” He shuddered, broke off, and asked Conor another question. “Have you heard any of the Myths about Thestrals?”
“No. I’m still pretty new to the area. Haven’t had much time to talk with Thestrals, let alone other ponies, with all the wedding preparations and you guys trying to make sure I’m kept safe. Most of them just keep their distance since I’m so far behind.”
“Right. Quick lesson. More details to follow after,” Pensword said, reverting to his now familiar teacher’s voice. “Thestrals have three gifts from the moon. There are Dream Stalkers, who hold the power to enter and defend the dreams of their clans from Nightmares. There are those with the power to Dream Beyond. They have visions of future events. Then there is the third: The Sight Beyond. Thestrals who bear this gift see and can talk to those that have passed beyond the grave.” Pensword shuddered, taking a deep breath as he braced himself. Then he began.
“The night my village was destroyed I lived every single death in that town. I marched that very night to retake my home and I gave an order which I will never regret. No Survivors. Only one Gryphon lived past my judgement call and he almost died in my anger. Only by wearing the emblem of House Strike was his life preserved.” He stared at Conor, waiting for his response.
“And you were afraid how I would react to this,” Conor said. “That’s what’s been bothering you for so long.”
“Yes. When you called the Gryphon Empire the Third Reich you were very close to the truth. They hunted my people. My friends, my teachers, my family.” Tears stood in his eyes as the memories of their deaths danced before his vision once again. “And after they killed the town they ate them. They ate my family, my mayor, Baron Happy Hooves.” He growled. “Not just my village, but any ponies they found, any battles we were in that we could not secure the bodies.” The cloud rumbled ominously. “Half the cemeteries we set up for the dead have only token graves, bereft of their bones. How do you think we all felt knowing we could not bury our dead because we had no bodies to bury?”
“The same way your family would have felt if you went to combat and fell in battle. I know that you want closure, Vulpix. That you need it. But beating yourself up over actions you can’t control isn’t going to help anyone, least of all you. You’ve been gnawing on this, letting it fester for ages because you couldn’t talk about it to anyone except maybe your wife. And I don’t even know if you’ve confided in her.”
“She FOUGHT IN FILLYDELPHIA! OF COURSE I CONFIDE IN HER!” Pensword roared, lunging to his hooves as lightning struck the ground. “She and I confide in everything. She and I have the same Security Clearance even!” He took a moment to reign himself back in, breathing slowly in and out, his body seemingly deflating as he collapsed once more onto the cloud. “... I speak to my mother as well,” he said, his voice low and soft. He glared at the human, but then his anger turned to sadness. “Conor,” he began, “I am more scared of what you, and what my family will do when they learn what I did in the war than anything I have ever feared before. I know I did what was needed, but what will you, or they, think of me? Between the three of us, we are so feared that we were marks for assassination just a few months ago. Gryphons fear us still. And I do not blame them.” Pensword plopped his head on the cloud as he looked down on the human, his ears drooping as sorrow and guilt played across his eyes.
Conor did not speak for some time. Even the silence seemed to be holding its breath.
“... I’m no expert here, Vulpix,” he started out slowly, his head staring out into the space before him. “But I think the real fear here is what you think of yourself. I don’t like violence. I don’t like blood and gore. But I also know that war is never a clean cut thing. That’s one thing my dad taught me before I got sucked in here in the first place. I don’t have the right to judge you for your actions. Neither does anybody else. We weren’t there and we didn’t see it. I’m your friend for crying out loud!” He threw his hands in the air. “If you did what you did without any just provocation, then we’d have a problem. But if I still know you even the slightest bit then I know you did what you did out of a need for justice. You saved a peaceful kingdom from a life of slavery. And by the sound of things, you were able to help a lot of restless spirits find peace. You’re a saint and a soldier.” He looked up, his eyes a mixture of the coolness from before and the warmth of a brother who cares. “Now quit worrying about me viewing you like a freak and get down here so I can hug you,” he said primly.
Pensword had kept still, listening to his friend’s words. Upon Hearing that last remark he stood up and destroyed the cloud with a quick jab from his front hooves as he landed on the ground before his friend. He could not do anything else as Conor embraced him around the neck. “Thank you for proving my worst case scenario a false event,” he whispered. “There are few who I care about how they see me as.” He swallowed a little. “You are one of those few, Omni. Same as both my mothers, my fathers, and my family. I want to bring pride to their hearts, not fear or disgust. Thank you for quelling a little of that fear.”
“You need to learn to let things out a little more, Vulpix. Bottling up like this isn’t good for anyone. Human, gryphon, dragon, diamond dog, or pony. Next time you got something on your mind, talk to me. I can’t guarantee I’ll have all the answers, but you’ll always have a listening ear.”
“I shall keep that in mind. I do talk to my mom and dad still, and my sister and brother,” Pensword replied as an ear twitched. “If you will excuse me, I think I hear Lunar Fang calling for me. I, I thank you for your time.” He moved. Or tried to. “Conor ... you can let go, you know… and .. are you patting me on the head? Are you trying to pet me?”
“Well it’s not like I know how ponies usually comfort one another,” Conor said, blushing as he drew back. “You know though, I think I’d love to meet little Moon River now.”
“Then follow me,” Pensword replied with a smile. “Well ... you might have to follow on the ground. I am going to fly ahead.”
Shawn wandered the old dark hallways, the lower section of New Unity or something. He couldn’t tell. He sighed, placing his hand on his unlit torch once again, lighting back up. He had let the thing extinguish itself for a second time.
The corridor seemed to go on forever. Both ways showed darkness that sapped the light of the torch. He stopped as his foot caught onto something, a sort of purple gelatinous substance. He frowned, having walked the whole way only to find something fairly pointless. While he would love to dirty his boots he chose to turn around and try again when he had some proper items with him to deal with this mess.
Shawn sighed to himself once again. “Yet another waste of time.”
He paused as his foot stuck to more of the purple substance. “I must have… missed it or something.” He moved the torch closer to the floor only to discover the substance had coated the floor entirely. There was no way he could have missed it before.
He looked behind himself once again, but instead of a small puddle like before, a wall towered overhead, filling the space and cutting off access. His eyes opened wide as he realised what it was. It seeped through the cracks. He must have shifted some of the old stone and left room for it to pass through. Cursing to himself he pushed onward through the substance, hoping that it was unable to saturate through his boots via osmosis and cause harm.
Keeping the torch in front of him he trudged through the slime, trying to get out of the mess he now found himself in. But it appeared that fate had something else in mind as he nearly ran into yet another wall of the mysterious substance. “Oh no.” He looked behind himself to find the other wall surging up behind him. He was trapped.
Air escaped the cracks as the slime inched slowly towards him. His eyes darted back and forth as he tried to think of something while he ignited his right hand. The blue glow added more light to the area. After a moment he moved his hand towards the slime in an attempt to burn it away. Perhaps it was flammable, whatever it was. At the very least, it should shrivel it up. His eyes shot open as a dark hand burst from the material and grabbed his wrist. He dropped the torch, which hissed on contact and disappeared with a loud “plop” as it sunk into the now knee level fluid.
Looking down, Shawn realised the material was rising at a slow pace. Another hand grabbed his left wrist. Then another grabbed his leg, and yet another. The fire that he generated flickered and dimmed as the fluid raised to his stomach. The winds sounded like harsh whispers, getting louder and louder the less room he had. Soon enough his hand was under the substance, his fire dying with it. Screams filled the air as he tried to move. More hands held him in place. Soon enough he felt one grab his head, keeping him from budging so much as a single inch. It continued up to his neck, then over his mouth, his nose. The darkness seeped closer and closer, the cold causing him to shiver as the slime continued its agonizingly slow rise to his eyes.
“Found you…”
Shawn stood with a shout, knocking over his desk and chair as he stumbled backwards before tripping on said chair. He rolled over on the ground coughing violently into his hands as he tried to regulate his breath once again.
The door burst open with a bang as Tower and Blast ran in.
“Shawn!”
“Lord Hammer Strike!” the two cried together.
“Are you alright, sir?” Blast Shield asked as he moved to the coughing human’s side. “Do I need to get a medic?” Meanwhile, Tower put a hoof around the human’s arm and tried to help him up.
“I’m fine.” He gave a few more coughs before placing his hand over his chest as he breathed. “I’m fine, just… Just a horrid dream…”
“... You don’t dream, sir. You said so yourself. Are you sure you don’t want us to get someone? Maybe Zecora?” Blast asked.
“I said I’m fine,” Shawn repeated, louder this time. “Leave me be,” he said, placing his other hand over his eyes. They felt so cold. Yet they burned.
“Then … you don’t need us, sir?” Tower asked.
“No. Now leave… Please…”
“... Sir.” The two saluted, then left, both looking worriedly back as they passed through the door and closed it gently behind them.
Shawn gasped once again as he moved his closed hand towards his face. After a tremulous moment he opened it to reveal a glistening black substance. “No …”
New Unity was abuzz with activity. Ponies and gryphons spread out all over the area building, training, quarrying, performing masonry, and mining. Nopony took notice as a grey furred pegasus made his way into the fortress. Had they bothered to look more closely they may have picked up on the run down look of his fur, the thin, dead limpness of his mane and tail, or the fact that he was severely sleep deprived.
Doctor Glyph Reader: a well known archeologist-explorer who was considered one of the top minds in his field, that is, until he returned from his last expedition. He returned quieter, more distant from everypony he knew. Oftentimes he would be found mumbling darkly to himself as he skulked in the shadows. As the well learned pegasus stalked into New Unity he brushed a wing over his saddle bag and the priceless treasure it held within. He chuckled to himself.
“Soon the dark lord shall return in smoke and shadow, and then he will rise. Then he will reward me. Yes,” Glyph Reader mumbled to himself as he stalked inside, one word consuming his every thought. Crystals!
“Hello,” A cheerful Earth Pony mare called out with a smile. “Can I help you at all, sir?” She asked the Doctor as she set down a trowel she was using to help plant a small flower bed near the gates. The pegasus didn’t respond as he walked a little faster. The Earth Pony looked back, concerned momentarily, but finally shrugged and turned back to her work. It's not like the old pony could be a serious threat anyway.
Grif smiled contentedly as he lay back in the warm sand, wings spread out comfortably. “One thousand years later and it’s still every bit as beautiful as I remember.” He smiled to Shrial. “Hard to believe huh?”
“It’s even better now that we’re married,” she said, sighing in contentment as she gazed at her wedding band. “I’m glad the Zebricans were so obliging. They seem to have quite the soft spot for you.”
“Considering the condition when we arrived? The gryphon may have been on Pensword’s list, but he was still a dirty scoundrel,” Grif said. “I'm just glad they remembered.” He looked at her. “This place has meaning for us. That makes this more enjoyable.”
“Old ghosts laid to rest and a new life begun. All in this place. And now we’re doing it all over again.” Shrial smirked. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
“I am kinda worried about Hammer Strike and Pensword, though. Somehow when we're separated something bad always happens.” He gave a dry chuckle. “Then again, it seems to happen a lot when we're together too. But it’s nice just being the two of us.”
“And you’d better get used to that. We have a good three months or so before that changes, or so you said. And I intend to make the most of it,” She said, a mischievous glint in her eye.
“It’s just me and you,” he said, reaching out and pulling her next to him. “No battles, no conspiracies, no marriages, just us. This has to be the first time in a long time I’ve been conscious and unarmed at the same time.” He laughed.
“Mmmm. You know, I think I like you like this. We should take you to a remote island more often. Maybe then you and I could have a little more fun than what Society puts in front of us all the time.” She casually ran a talon down Grif’s cheek and underside, sending tingles shaking through his entire frame.
“Votre souhait est mon commandement I vais donner ma démission et nous ne reviendrai jamais” Grif told her.
“Cheeky,” Shrial said as she pounced the prone warrior.
Grif smiled as he reached around to embrace her, planting a kiss on her beak. “You know you love it.” He smiled, kissing her again. The winds began to pick up and rain began to pelt them from the sky, but the two barely noticed as they embraced in each other's company, their passions elevating with the wind and the rain.
Conor sat smiling as he watched Moon River scooting across the floor. Lunar Fang lay on the couch in the Commander’s suite watching with the loving expression only a mother can manage for her child. Pensword was in another part of the suite preparing their evening meal.
Lunar Fang smiled as Moon River began to crawl towards Conor. “I hope you like Vampire Fruit Bat. Pensword makes a nice meal, though I taught him the recipe.”
“And I couldn’t have been happier,” Pensword called out as he shook some herbs and spices onto the dead bat as he prepared it for the oven.
“I’ve never tried it before. But I’ve never said no to new food, so I’ll be glad to try it out.” Conor smiled as Moon River drew nearer, her wide, inquisitive stare meeting his own amused gaze.
“If somepony offers you a hayburger, refuse it. You couldn’t digest it as a human,” Pensword advised, calling from the kitchen. “Also, if she is going towards you, be careful. She might try to climb on your lap. Or your back.”
“Is it alright if I pick her up?”
“You can try,” Lunar Fang responded with a knowing smirk. “I do not know what she’ll do with you, but if she struggles, please put her back down.”
“Of course.” Conor smiled as he reached down to the little foal. “Hiya, Moon River. You wanna come up on my lap?” he asked as the foal continued her steady advance. She cooed and giggled.
From the doorway Pensword watched as he waited for the food to cook, wanting to see what his little Moon River would do with the human. He and Lunar Fang shared a knowing mischievous look.
Conor knelt to the floor, bending down as he prepared to scoop the little foal up. “She’s so-” Just then, Moon River made her move as she pounced on the human’s head, giggling as she flailed her hooves in the air. “Gah!” Conor exclaimed, stumbling to his feet as he groped for something solid to hold on to.
From the doorway Pensword snapped a photo with the crystal camera he had stashed nearby. He laughed at the situation, pointing to his friend as he collapsed into a fit of helpless giggles.
Lunar Fang quickly got to her hooves and walked over to help steady Conor’s stance. “She likes tall places,” She said between chuckles. “She saw you walking and how tall you were. It was only a matter of time till she sought you out for a perch.” She opened one of her leathery wings. “We do have these for a reason, you know.”
Moon River giggled but started to flail, falling backwards before pulling on Conor’s hair. He felt a prickling sensation as Moon River stopped falling backwards. Instead, she was holding on to a tuft of thicker hair on the back of his head. Conor’s head yanked back as he heard another snap of the camera before the sound of excited wing beats filled the air.
“Moony!” Pensword crowed. “You can hold things. That is so awesome. Come on, come on, hold my hoof. You can do it.” The next few moments were spent watching Moon River transfer from Conor’s head to the Pensword’s back. Then he started flying around the ceiling. Moon River waved her fore hooves in the air while Lunar Fang snapped more photos. Conor rubbed the back of his head tenderly.
“Ow …”
“Excuse me, Lord Hammer Strike?” Twilight’s head poked into the door of his office curiously.
“Yes?” Hammer questioned as he looked up from his papers.
“I realize you're busy with repairing the fortress and all, but I was wondering if it would be possible for me to borrow a few of your crafts ponies for a, um … project I’m working on?” she asked with her nervous smile.
“What are you trying to do behind my back?” Hammer asked in his flat tone.
“Is it really that obvious?” Hammer Strike nodded. Twilight sighed. “I’ve come to realize that my friends and I, due to our position as element bearers, have been forced into situations in the past where combat experience would be helpful. And we've been seriously lacking. As a way to correct this oversight I’ve decided to start training in combat magic. However, in order to employ it effectively, I require a properly functional focus,” she explained, pulling a scroll from her saddlebags. “I’ve come up with a suitable design, but Ponyville crafts ponies don’t have much skill in making battle capable weapons.”
“Twilight, I am offended,” Hammer Strike started. “You want to make a proper weapon and train with it, and you tried to do this behind my back?”
“This isn't just smithing, Hammer Strike,” Twilight said. “This would involve heavy wood work, rune engravings, clothwork. Everything needs to be very specific.”
“You act as though I haven’t done some of those things,” He joked. “You’ll still need someone to teach you to fight, too.”
“I need to master the spells properly first. This magic isn`t something you just stumble into.” She sighed. “I’m sorry. I just wanted to get everything well underhoof before I let it out.”
“Stumble into…” Hammer started quietly. “You’re free to request help from whoever. Go on now.”
“Thank you, Hammer Strike.” She bowed her head respectfully before turning to leave. Just before she left the room she felt a cold shiver run down her spine. She stopped a moment to look back, but seeing nothing suspicious, left soon after.
“Something you just stumble into…” Hammer chuckled darkly. “As if it was that easy.”
Pensword smiled as he set down a tea kettle. “Do not worry,” he said as Conor eyed the kettle warily. “This is herbal. No caffeine. I know my friends.” He finished with a smile as Lunar Fang walked out using a wing cover to help carry a glass dish with the sauteed Vampire Fruit Bat.
“Thanks, Vulpix,” Conor said, smiling. “You know how my mom is with the stuff. I’d rather not risk having the same reaction.” he paused, sniffing as the clouded dish was uncovered, filling the room with the scent of freshly cooked meat, herbs, and spices with just a hint of apple. His mouth began to water as his stomach rumbled. He chuckled. “Sorry about that. Guess all that running and working out is finally getting my body to burn some calories.”
“Makes sense. We have been pushing you through your paces,” Pensword replied with a smile. “Happy one week in Equestria. And congratulations on surviving your first week in a modified boot camp,” He said cheerfully as Lunar Fang dished up a full bat for the human to eat. “Now it is polite to eat a little of the meat, but you do not have to eat the wingspan.”
“Even if it tastes like Fruit leather,” Lunar Fang replied with a laugh.
“I love fruit leather!” Conor said, his eyes growing wide with excitement.
“Well, be careful. Different taste buds,” Pensword cautioned. “Still, If you wouldn’t mind?” he asked Conor as he folded his wings over his meal, Lunar Fang following suit. “Faust, we thank thee for this meal, as well as the protection granted upon us in our hunt. May you guide us this day, and every day. Thank you.” He raised his head, unfolded his wings from over the plate, and settled them to his side as Lunar Fang did the same. “Now, eat up.” he called out cheerfully.
“You guys go ahead. I need to say my own prayer,” Conor said, smiling as he folded his arms and bowed his head. With eyes closed, he mouthed a brief blessing before closing and returning to his normal posture. “Let’s eat!” he said, smiling as he picked up the fork and knife beside the plate. Cutting into the carcase, he speared an apple chunk which had been ladled with the sauce and inserted it into his mouth. “Huh. I know this is going to sound clichè, but it tastes like chicken. Teriyaki to be precise.”
Lunar Fang looked at Conor, confused, then turned her head to Pensword as he failed miserably to hold back the giggles. He quickly put his food down to prevent choking. Moments later he rolled on the floor laughing, his wings flailing as tears of mirth fell down his cheeks.
“Come on, it’s not that funny, is it?” Conor asked, smirking despite himself as he watched his friend flail. Moon River giggled and cooed from her high chair, blowing raspberries in excitement as Lunar Fang held a hoof up to her muzzle to stifle her own giggles. He stroked his face and frowned as a thought suddenly occurred to him. “I need a shave,” he said, looking more than a little worried.
“Well,” Pensword began, finally getting his breathing under control. “Sorry, dear. Just, I have not had a laugh, well a good one anyways, in a long time.”
“I can tell,” She replied with a smile. “I haven’t seen you laugh like that since before the Third Gryphon War.” She turned to look to Conor. “Thank you for that.” She smiled as she returned to her meal.
Pensword looked to his friend. “Sorry, but unless you want to learn to shave with a knife we do not have many razors for humans. Besides, this is medieval Military. Beards are allowed. Did you know what killed the beard in Earth’s military?” he asked happily.
“Enlighten me,” Conor said as he cut a portion of the bat’s wing and placed it in his mouth. The consistency reminded him more than a little of the crinkly skin on a roasted chicken blended with the leathery consistency of the treat Lunar Fang had mentioned earlier.
“Mustard Gas. World War One,” Conor braced himself, smilng happily as Pensword launched into a lecture about the events leading up to the sudden change: from Major Sideburn, from whom the term sideburns came from, to the development of the gas mask and the need for a seal around the face. The longer he talked the more animated he became and it did not help that his life mate egged him on. Or perhaps it did, just not in a way a civilian might like.
“So, in conclusion,-” Pensword said. The main course was long gone now and they sat sipping cold, freshly squeezed lemonade with a plate of sugar cubes to suck on for dessert. “-The invention of World War weaponry finally caused the abandonment of beards, mustaches and facial hair that was more commonly found in the Wars of the previous millennium. All in a matter of a few simple years.” Pensword smiled as he pulled a stalk of sugarcane from a plate, peeled it, and began to chew.
“Fascinating.” Conor chuckled. “Just like old times. It’s good to have you sounding like your old self again, Vulpix.” He put his hand to his head. “Wooh. What a mother,” he said, rubbing his temples and forehead. “Say, Vulpix, do the ponies here have Ibuprofen? I think I got a little too much sun today,” he said as he refilled his glass.
“I shall see what the Doctors say. Most of the dosages are for, well, equines, obviously. But I think the doctors should have some notes for humans after their experiments with me.” He smiled a little. “Still, I can take you down to the medical hall if you want.”
“Thanks. I still don’t have this place memorized yet,” Conor said as he ran a hand through his hair.
“Very well.” Pensword got up and kissed Lunar Fang on the cheek, then her lips before turning to Conor. “Okay, just follow me. That reminds me. I need to get you a map of the castle.”
Creeping like a ninja from place to place, a pink blur popped in and out between statues, opening old suits of armor to peek around, and leaving little pink dust clouds in her wake as her eyes darted from left to right. “I know he’s around here somewhere,” Pinkie Pie said as she continued her search. Her pinkie senses had been tingling for days now, but wherever she looked she could never find the new visitor. She tapped her hoof slowly against her chin as she tried to decide where to go. This pony was going to be a challenge.
“Now just stay there,” Pensword said as he turned down the lamp by the bed. One of the nurses had applied a cold compress to Conor’s eyes as he lay down on the cot. Pensword shook his head. “If needed, I will stand watch. It is not fun seeing a friend suffer what appears to be a migraine,” he said, his voice low and soft.
“Oy, tell me about it. I haven’t had one this bad since I was nine and watched TV and movies with a friend till late. He fell asleep before we even finished the last one. I had to walk home without saying goodbye. That night was the absolute worst night of my life.”
“HI!” Pinkie Pie cried out as she popped up behind the human’s pillows. “I’m Pinkie Pie, what’s your name?” She gasped. “You’re a human? Ohmygoshohmygoshohmygosh! No wonder my Pinkie Sense was having trouble! Ooooh, I’m gonna have to plan a special party for you. With streamers, and plays, and party favors, and lots and lots of chocolate chip cookies!”
“Pinkie,” Pensword said, using the same warning tone Twilight used. “Please calm down. And lower your voice. Conor has a migraine. And while you’re welcome excitement is a joy to have in camp, it is making things worse here,” he said as Conor’s facial muscles twitched in pain.
“Oh, that’s an easy one. Here, take this!” Pinkie Pie forced Conor’s mouth open as wide as it could go before stuffing it full of cupcake. Conor sat bolt upright, the cloth falling on his thighs as he started coughing and spluttering, pulling bits of the cake out of his mouth to make enough room. Once he’d spat enough out, he swallowed the rest with a very much audible gulp.
“Okay, first of all, Pinkie, nice to meet you. Secondly, when dealing with humans, please remember we can’t hold as much in our mouths as ponies can. Third, why didn’t you say cake? You always say cake. And fourth … hey, that actually worked.”
“Of course it worked, silly. It’s my own special recipe. With some seeeecret ingreeeeedients,” She said, waving her hooves. “Don’t worry though. It’s nothing bad for ponies, or humans. And to answer your other question, it’s cause they’re your favorite, of course. I’ll have to get some ice cream cake ready too. And maybe a few other sweets.” She gasped. “I can make a whole cookie-cake super duper extreme party extravaganza! All your favorites together!”
“Gee, um … Thanks, I guess?”
“No problem. Welp, I gotta go. I have another party to plan now on top of the partiest party ever for Hammer Strike and the Gryphon Slayers. Bye!” And with that, the pink blur was at it again, gone without a trace, leaving just a hint of cotton candy scent in the air to remember her by.
“Well, now you have officially met Pinkie Pie,” Pensword said with a worn expression. “Worse than Riku on sugar,” he mumbled with a homesick look. He paused and looked up at the ceiling. “Please, nonononononononono,” He trailed off quickly. “I do not need Riku here. One Pinkie Pie is enough. We don’t need another.”
Glyph Reader moved through the tunnels below New Unity slowly, casually stopping to check he was alone several times as passed through the shadows. The old pegasus mumbled darkly as he pulled out a red curved severed horn. “We are here, master,” he spoke to it in a quiet tone.
“Good.” The deep, sonorous voice as smooth as the shadows through which they walked responded, chuckling darkly. “Leave me in this place upon a pillar of rocks. I will soak in the corruption that those fools brought back with them.” He chuckled again. “To think the very beings responsible for my fall shall be the unwitting harbingers of my return. How … delicious.” The red horn began to pulse, glowing steadily the deeper Glyph Reader carried it.
“Master, they speak of the bird. He lives here. The one who swore to hunt you. Is this truly safe?” Glyph Reader asked.
“They also speak of him being away to celebrate his bonds of marriage,” The voice snapped back. “Remember your place.”
“Y-y-yes, Master.” Glyph Reader trembled.
“We have time,” Sombra rumbled with his silky voice. “By the time that savage returns either we shall have left this place to gather strength, or better yet, that foolish oaf of a pony lord shall become my new viceroy, and thou my prophet.”
“Of course, master. I live to do your will,” the pony said, his eyes glowing green and purple as he approached a broken stone pillar. “Horn born of the darkest lord, he who is of shadow and mist, be shrouded from your enemy and be hidden from prying eyes until the Dark Return doth come. Then we shall begin your rise.” Dark magic swirled around the pillar as the pegasus placed the horn in one of the cracks. To the naked eye, the damage sealed, hiding it from the world. “Feast well, my master,” Glyph Reader said as he cackled, his voice amplifying and carrying through the halls as he ran toward the light, escalating to a maniacal laugh. “Soon, Daring Do. Soon.”
Meanwhile Pensword walked slowly out of the medical wing. The doctors had decided to hold Conor overnight for observation, despite protests from both patient and friend. Before he’d known it he was being shooed out of the wing by the Pegasus Nurse.
“I can not believe they just kicked me out.” He shook his head before pausing in his steps. His left ear flicked. Was that … laughter? He shook his head. “Nah. too faint,” he said under his breath. He waited a moment longer, straining his ears just to be on the safe side. Not hearing anything else, he nodded in satisfaction before walking back towards his suite and life mate. Turning the corner he bumped into a Pony coming from another lower section of the castle. “Omphf,” he explained as he stepped back in surprise. “Excuse me.” He paused as he eyed the Grey furred Pegasus. “Do I know you?”
“Uh, Doctor Glyph Reader. Of the Equestrian Historical Society. I was sent to look over the lower levels for possible artifacts,” the pegasus said as convincingly as he could. He dropped his head down nervously.
“Well, the only thing down there last I checked were bobby traps and some prank organ,” he muttered. “Still, this is New Unity. The lower levels are open, I guess. Just remember to check in with Old Tome for your visitor pass, okay? Entry is restricted in some areas to non-.” he paused as he moved a wing to his satchel. Glyph Reader immediately flinched.
“I am not some Daring Do novel,” Pensword said as he pulled out a visitor’s pass. Conor didn’t need it anymore since his official clearance badge would be arriving in the morning. “Actually, you can have this one. I’ll tell the guards the number was reassigned. Have a good night, and do try to stay warm. The lower levels are damp and one can catch a nasty cold if one remains down there for too long.”
“Thank you.” The doctor took the pass politely. “I must get my tools and return to my explorations,” he said suddenly. “Goodbye!” And with that, Glyph Reader was off and running.
Pensword almost called out after him, but shook his head. “Another time, another place, and I may very well have been like him, so caught up in my work…” He trailed off. “MESS HALL OPENS AT ZERO SIX HUNDRED AND CLOSES AT TWENTY THREE HUNDRED HOURS!” He yelled, hoping the doctor would hear. He smiled as he climbed the stone stairs up to his suite. “College all over again: working and then realizing you are hungry after the dorm food places close and need to walk halfway across campus for something,” he mumbled to himself. Pensword paused as he saw a Thestral at his side walking with him. “Hello, little brother,” he said.
“Hey Big brother,” he replied looking grim. “Just to let you know, I have to be cryptic here, but you just did something Faust needed done.”
Pensword froze out of pure shock. After a few moments he recovered and started walking again. “I do not know if I should be happy or worried by that. Still, thank you for the heads up. Happy to know I am still on the right path to be with my family when my time is up.” He looked to the top of the stairs to a very confused looking Lunar Fang.
“I got this cupcake sitting on your desk. Pinkie Pie left it to you for an apology,” she said, holding the treat.
“Well, thank Faust she is an Element Holder and on our side. Can you imagine her being a spy against us?” He smiled and Lunar Fang joined in. “Come on. I could use a little snuggle before bed.” In response Lunar Fang wrapped a wing around his back and pulled him closer before kissing his nose.
“That sounds absolutely lovely.”
The Next day while Conor was working on his run with Rook, Pensword was walking and actually taking time to tour the field of flags. He continued through the rows before pausing and bowing his head before two forlorn tattered flags. “House Hooves,” he mumbled sadly. Upon the flag four golden horse shoes shone weakly one in each corner of the flag with a green background. The flag next to it was the town flag: a simple blue flag with a green mountain range you could see from the town hall looking west. A white waterfall cascaded down the middle of the range. He looked up as his ears swiveled upon hearing a sound. He moved a hoof slowly to allow a quick turn if need be.
“Excuse me, Commander.” A voice spoke behind him.
Pensword slowly turned around to face the speaker. “Yes? Are you needing something?”
A large rusty red gryphon covered in scars and missing a left eye stood at attention. “Grif wanted this gift delivered to you as soon as it was done,” he said, presenting a spear bearing a black banner with an elegant red trim. Grif’s symbol stood at the very center with rose vines growing around it blooming in three different colors: orange, white, and yellow. At the top of the vine the image of a large avian perched. It was an elegant bird not unlike a phoenix. But the way the eyes burned seemed to hint at a sentience far beyond that of the fire birds. It's feathers had been painstakingly created from every possible color of thread available. The words “Dans la paix, Vigilance, dans la guerre, la victoire, dans la mort, Sacrafice” shone in emerald green lettering.
Pensword looked at the Gryphon presenting the item. He gave a small smile as he took the spear bearing the banner. “May I know the meaning behind the symbols of the Glyphs?” he asked. He could actually read and understand the Phrench, at least enough to get the general meaning. “In Peace Vigilance, in Peace Victory, In death Sacrifice.” He read the words aloud. He looked to the Gryphon with a confused expression.
“Grif wished that you should receive the first coat of arms for your… gallery,” the gryphon said. “The words are the house's new code. He said the roses were to represent traits he hoped we would achieve, though he didn`t explain their direct meaning. And this…” he pointed to the bird “Is the bird of paradise, the wings of beauty born of winds of love itself. she cherishes life and will only fight to defend it.”
Pensword nodded his head as he looked to the flag. “Would ... may I display this in my office? This is not a flag of conquest, but of a friend, and an ally.” He paused as he looked around. Then he smiled as his mind latched upon an idea. He began to walk to front of the Courtyard. What had begun as a simple storage of flags to cow the Gryphons and inspire the new recruits had transformed in his mind’s eye. He walked to the Front and planted the spear and flag into the ground for display.
“This will be the rows of allies and friends of House Strike, and of Equestria.” Pensword looked excited as he spoke to the Gryphon. “The top shall be covered in clear glass while the ground shall be planted with fresh green grass. Gravel walkways will spread here, here, and over there, weaving through the rows. And over there-” he pointed to a half crumbled wall “- will be a sign talking about each one of these flags, the history, and why it is on display. In this area-” he moved to the walls they were facing. “-they will have benches for resting and reflecting.” Pensword cantered like an excited foal. “And here, the first thing that any being sees, will be the Flag of Equestria.” He broke off into sudden silence as he realized that only the Gryphon was listening. “Well?” he asked. “What do you think? Can you not see it? A place for pride, a place to also teach and not forget the past?”
He lowered a hoof realizing that maybe the Gryphon would not like the idea. After all, the field would be displaying the captured colors of his ancestors. A thousand years had passed and it might be best to actually return the flags. He didn’t know what to think as he lapsed into pensive thought. The silence weighed heavily as the gryphon’s eyes were drawn across the area to a torn piece of cloth displaying a black tipped feather. The background stood out with a vibrant blood red. The look on his face was angry, hateful even. He spat in the direction of the disheveled flag. “That should be burned. Those kind have no business being remembered.”
Pensword looked to the flag and he shook his head. “No, The flag needs to be displayed.” He stepped forward. “That flag represented something completely unacceptable.” He glared at the emblem of the black tips. “These two flags are to show a history that cannot be forgotten.” He moved to touch the flag with the black tip on it. “This flag was captured when I smashed the Gryphons in Mountainside Falls. They were flying it from the burned ruins of the schoolhouse.” His voice trembling with anger. “I personally tore that flag from its place.” He turned to looked now at the Gryphon. “That is why the flags remain. To tell the history by their presence. So the next generation will know why-” he moved a wing to point to the two of them. “-we-” he pointed to the flag, “- despise that thing.”
“They destroyed my grandfather,” the gryphon said. “He spoke against the king's taxes and they killed him and my father and forced the rest of us out.”
Pensword did not turn around. “They killed every single pony in my village while I was trained for the Military.” He growled, not taking his eyes off the two flags. His wings sagged a little. “I am sorry to hear about your grandfather, and your family's fate. Tell me, what do you plan to do now that you wear the badge of the Bladefeather Clan?”
“Give it some meaning. I’ve heard many politicians talk. Clan leaders claim they wish to help. I don't know if your Grif is capable of what he says, but he is honest, and I could find a worse clan leader to serve.”
Pensword turned and stared at the Gryphon, even taking to the air to look him in the eye. “When Grif says he is going to do something, it would take a direct order from myself, Lord Hammer Strike, or his current wife, Shiral, to make him even pause in that pursuit. And no, I did not forget Princess Celestia.” He took a deep slow breath. “So he wants to achieve something, then I hope you are with him, because he will get what he wants in the end.” Pensword landed on the ground. And although it made him smaller than the Gryphon, he continued to eye the gryphon grimly. “I know this because I saw it in the Third Gryphon War. I would, and have, trusted him with my life.”
“I only meant that he’s mortal,” the gryphon said. “He could be brought down like any of us if he’s not careful. For a thousand year old ghost story he is still young and there is alot about the world to learn yet.” The gryphon tapped his eye patch. “Sometimes life reminds us the hard way.”
Pensword looked towards the entrance way. He knew given time they would make it a little more grand than the hole it was now. “Yes? So what? We both lived through the Third Gryphon War. He survived a full on encounter with your magic users, and finally, he hunted down and survived behind enemy lines to fulfill a promise. He may be young, but I think he can and will succeed. Have more faith in your clan leader.”
“They aren't my magic users,” the gryphon returned. “I haven’t called the empire home in over a century. And I wouldn't if I could.”
Pensword looked back at the flags. “‘Your,’ as in the species.” He sighed deciding to give up on the argument. “Still,” He paused as he realized he was actually talking casually to a gryphon, “You are the first adult Gryphon I have actually talked to without feeling the need to be on my guard. Nor be ready to attack.”
“You think every child crawls under their covers and hides from the monster beneath them?” the gryphon asked. “Equestria needs a better defensive strategy. And you, Commander, are giving them that. I've lived too long to follow by what some stuck up oaf whose ancestor died because we lost a war says about you. Up until a few months ago hunger or infection was far more likely to kill us then a Thestral from myths and horror stories.”
Pensword looked to the Gryphon raising a wing without thinking before lowering it. “... Thank you?” he asked wondering if he just got a compliment before he realized something else. “What, do the Gryphons see me as?” He asked as he moved to begin walking around the Gryphon. “You see, I cannot seem to find very many articles about Current Gryphons opinions about ponies outside of Grif, and the few that seem to still see Hammer Strike as Celestia’s attack ghost.” He smiled as he continued his circling. “Still, you have a smart head on your shoulders, knowing what parts of the past to keep and what others to let go.”
“If you are asking about the empire, you're a ghost story to them. Something they’d like to believe never happened and press into the depths of myth and legend. If you mean around us, we don't have enough information to decide. Grif trusts you and that's what we have to go with.”
Pensword frowned. “Very well.” Pensword shifted to a smile as he came around to the front. “Then I have a clean slate.” He held out a hoof. “I am Commander Moonkissed Pensword Hurricane, High Duke of the City of Filly de Y.”
“Rusty Bladefeather,” the gryphon responded.
“A Pleasure to meet you, Rusty.” He found his hoof taken by the taloned hand of the Gryphon. “I had a friend a long time ago who went by that name. He was a good friend. I am happy to see someone as honorable as you carries it still.” He smiled wider then frowned as a bell tolled. “I am sorry, but I must be about my rounds. I would like to talk to you and Grif when he returns. I think I have something...” he trailed off, not realizing it as he walked towards the hole in the wall.
“Fly well,” the gryphon said before he himself turned to leave. As he did so a light breeze flew through the courtyard causing the flags to flutter. For a moment Rusty could see what Pensword had yammered about as the fragments pieced themselves together to form a beautiful image from the power, majesty, and tragedy that was history. Yet it was but a fleeting moment. And as quickly as it had appeared, it was gone. “Perhaps the ghost can one day be made flesh,” he muttered as he walked away.
The Badlands, located across the Macintosh Mountains: a place that is far harsher than the deserts surrounding Appleloosa. Here Queen Chrysalis and her hive had been banished by the combined love spell of Princess Cadence and her husband, Shining Armor. After their landing, the hive had spent the time rebuilding, creating changeling structures rising over the flat land. They had landed in a box canyon, a canyon that was literally shaped like a box. The only way in was either by flying or climbing up and over the natural walls. The Queen’s domain lay tall and majestic in a strange creepy manner of speaking while dark specks crawled around it and many other cone shaped structures that lay scattered around the space.
Inside the Queen’s domain, cocoons hung from sandstone stalactites, filled with the sleeping forms of many of the Badland creatures as they were drained of their emotions and some of their form used to feed the colony. Droplets of moisture dropped from above misced with the roots of Cacti and tumbleweed. Queen Chrysalis sat upon her emergency throne, a mixture of sandstone and quartzite carefully carved, as a group of her warrior changelings walked in bearing poles with new cocoons. The other cocoons glowed a sickly green, casting a pall across the visage of the five Unicorns trapped within. The Warriors were wearing the captured armor of Celestia’s solar guard, which darkened in the makeshift cavern’s false light.
“Tell me, do we have enough love to strike yet?” Chrysalis asked the praetorian guard next to her.
“No, my Queen. Scouts are searching far and wide for more creatures to trap and bring back.” The Praetorian replied as the workers began to raise the cocoons to sit in her chamber. “However, some scouts have stated they found a city where small feline creatures found them and showered them with love. The scout suggests that we enslave them and bring them back here so we can drink their love while creating a second class citizenry. We would be a wealthy hive, the envy of the other hives to the south when they learn of our conquests.”
“They were totally oblivious to this scouts’ purposes?” she asked
“More like they didn’t care. One got so greedy he fed in front of them and they still showered the scouting party with love. Even I am baffled as to what they could see us as. Though the scout does suggest we use all changelings to move their buildings to the Box Canyon. They have a castle already built that could become your Queen Chamber.”
Chrysalis smiled “Then begin preparations immediately. The sooner we have enough love to hasten our attack the better. I will prove once and for all that… thing is not undying,” chrysalis said as her hoof shifted to cradle the broken crest on her head.
“As you command, my Queen. I shall gather all the warriors and we shall enslave the town. At which point we shall begin moving the castle back here and try to recreate the living space for our new hivelings.”
“And what of our daughter?” the queen asked.
“She is doing well. She is currently located in the Nursery learning the importance of shapeshifting.” His eyes crossed suddenly as he stumbled briefly. Chrysalis laughed at the look as she felt it too. “She also has learned how to use the link to exert a little control over others, as she just did for my tattling on her.”
“And have our scouts been able to locate the hive of this queen who has supposedly allied with our enemy?” she asked.
“Not so far, my Queen. However, we feel it must be near where those who fought against the hive are currently staying. They have to move slowly and carefully. Though there have been reports of strange mental feelings and urges. Whatever is happening, it is nothing any Changeling has experienced before. I have been needing to rotate them since we lost one agent due to…” he shuffled his hoof. “The term would be Equestrian in origin, but ‘defected’ to this rival queen’s hive. We have not yet figured out how she was able to subvert your link on all Changelings.” He paused as he eyed Chrysalis holding her crest again. “We will find enough love to heal your crown, my queen, rest assured.” He looked to where a Manticore lay cocooned and slated to become physical food along with emotional food after attacking their Hive and then the Queen after clawing its way into the canyon for easy prey. It had managed to break Chrysalis’ crown before she laid him low. Nopony but she could hurt her underlings.
“We must find her if we are to be successful,” she said. “I want nothing left out this time. Remember the mistakes of your predecessor.”
“Of course, my queen.” The Praetorian responded with another low bow. “What are we to do if we do find her? She surely has started a hive, and if she is allied with Ponies, she could be harvesting more love from more sources. How do you wish us to proceed against another Queen? Assimilation of her Hive, or annihilation?”
“We must know our enemy before we can plan,” Chrysalis said. “For now we shall be patient.”
“Very well. I shall be rotating scouts with these new orders, learn all they can about any and all means of defense and attack in the region, as well as forceful interrogation of lone Changelings they find to know about this new hive.”
“Very well, Praetorian, you may go.” She nodded. “keep up the good work and I may find room for a new drone.”
“As you wish, my Queen,” the Praetorian responded as he slowly walked away from her raised throne down the makeshift carpet of glowing green moss and slime.
The beach lay balmy and broken in the heat of the day. Sand was disturbed. Water pooled in random places. A tree lay broken in half less than 20 feet away. These were the first things Grif saw when he opened his eyes. The sand rubbed irritatingly into his fur and feathers, but he could only smile wide as he looked at the sleeping figure that lay across from him, the memories of the night echoing in his still foggy mind. The pair hadn't even been aware of the typhoon in the background in their passion.
Grif just lay there wishing the perfect moment to last for eternity when the wind shifted. A chill blew in from the south sending a shiver through him, but it seemed to carry a melody unlike any birdsong the gryphon had heard before. It was deep and sweet, irresistible and haunting at the same time. Grif wanted to flee from it and run towards it all at once. He shook Shrial gently with a claw.
The gryphoness slowly stirred, blinking open her eyes to behold her lover. She smiled. “Well hello there, stranger.”
“You hear that?” Grif said as he moved to get up. The wind blew again carrying the same ghostly tune.
“... What is it?” She asked, turning her ear to face it.
“I don't know, but something is telling me we should take a look.”
“By boat or by flight?”
“Go and secure a cloud. It seems safer to fly, but we should keep something to land on just in case,” Grif said.
Nodding, Shrial did so, immediately taking off into the blue sky. She returned about ten minutes later holding an adequate, if not quite perfect, cloud. “Sorry it took so long. That storm cleared out most of the clouds in the area. I had to gather wisps.”
“It’s enough,” Grif said, taking to the air. The two pushed the cloud south, flying at a slow pace. In about a quarter of an hour they began to notice a large mass of cloud swirling on the horizon: a pillar that went as high as the eye could see. Sea birds of different types entered and left the pillar, eerily silent the whole while as the haunting melody echoed amongst the cloud. “It looks like it's inside.”
“Whatever it is,” Shrial said.
Grif accelerated to reach the cloud mass first. He walked inside a small hole in the cloud mass. By the time Shrial reached the edge he walked back out looking shaken. “It can't be,” he mumbled as he looked in her eyes.
“What is it? What’s wrong, Grif?” Shrial asked, worried for her husband’s state of mind. Grif took her claws in his own and led her in. The pillar was completely hollow inside, filled with numerous perches where all types of birds roosted. In the center, forged from pure cloud, was a large confusing looking instrument that sounded and hummed and trumpeted in the wind, creating the strange, yet beautiful music. A massive bird roosted on top of it. Its body was slim and regal like a phoenix, but it shone gloriously with lights from every color imaginable and some Shrial could not even name. Seven large crested feathers grew from her head and stretched all the way down to her tail. Her beak was short and pointed like a songbird's and every time she opened her mouth a melody escaped that made Shrial feel positively everything at once.
“By the winds of the ancestors,” Shrial whispered, not daring to startle such a creature. “Is that-?”
“The divine child of the south wind,” Grif said. “The bird of paradise, the original phoenix, one of the closest things Gryphonkind would have to an actual god.”
“But … what is she doing here?” Shrial asked. “In the middle of the ocean, no less.”
One could not very well fly over the island, the voice was there and yet not there. it wasn't something heard, but something the two gryphons felt inside them. That would cause quite a scene.
Shrial let out a startled squawk, then regained her composure. “Forgive me, but I know not what to call you, let alone how to address you,” Shrial said, bowing her head as she became painfully aware of the sand and clumps of earth in her feathers and fur.
Call me that which you desire, Shrial Bloodfeather. You may call me mother as you haven't called another before. Do not shrink back, for I do not judge you. It was your love that allowed me to summon the two of you.
“And why would you summon us?” Grif asked her.
Why, Avatar, surely you did not believe that just because you possessed the weapons you were truly ready to shoulder your title. To be the true avatar of winds you must learn the secrets hidden with the winds.
“Does this mean that you intend to teach him, … Mother?” The word felt strange for her to utter, but right somehow.
I will teach him the secrets that are beholden to me. But I am only the child of the south wind. You must also learn from the children of the other winds, she explained. It was the love between the two of you that allowed me to come as close to you as I have. There is no power as divine as love. It is the key to power beyond your limitations. And when you love, then benevolence is most with you.
Grif looked to Shrial then shook his head before looking to the bird. “I promised Shrial that this would be our time, untouched by war and combat and magic. I will not break that promise.”
“Grif, this is more important than just us. If what Mother says is true, then you need to learn from her. She may not be able to come so close to us again. We can spend time together in the evenings. And I will gladly watch you train. But if this is part of your destiny, you must fly towards it, as you always have. I’ll be right by your side.” She rubbed against him, smiling encouragingly.
He placed a claw on her beak for a moment “Remember, I would turn away all the power in the world for you. Don`t tell me to do this unless you are sure in your heart this is what you want.”
“... I want you, love. I can’t lie about that.” A tear streamed down her cheek. “Is it wrong of me to have such selfish feelings?” She asked.
Love is never wrong, the Bird of Paradise chimed in.
“Then what are we to do?” Shrial asked.
I cannot offer you the time you would lose, the bird said. But perhaps a trade. The bird shifted and in a movement that seemed to startle every pair of wings in the room, snipped one of the beautiful feathers of her crest and laid it gently at Shrial’s feet.
“Why--?” Shrial asked.
Because your time together is priceless and I must request it. Mortals cannot get time back. Therefore, I offer something which I cannot get back in exchange.
Grif stood stunned, looking at the crested feather before them. It had to be over six feet long and almost seemed fluid in the light. He looked to Shrial, quietly picking the feather up. Then he presented it to her with some reverence, “Take it.”
Shrial did so carefully. It felt light as a cloud and filled her with a sense of abiding peace and love so pure, so kind, she fell to her knees. “It is … truly a priceless gift.”
Grif turned to the bird and took a step forward before bowing respectfully. “Teach me.”
Conor grunted as he pushed with all the strength he could muster, his frame quaking as he struggled to get just one more in. He had to be stronger if he was going to survive. And after the last couple of weeks, it had grown easier to manage the exercises. He was almost to the point where the rest of the guards were now. As he finished the last of the rep, he gradually let himself down, smiling at what his hard work had earned him. His new work out clothing was coated with sweat, but at least he had been improving. Not only that, but his pudge had diminished considerably as hard muscle continued to form and develop underneath, eating away at his fat.
“Phew,” he said, continuing to smile. “That was a rough one.”
“It well get rougher,” one of the other ponies noted, not stopping. “You're still not up to Grif’s full regimen.”
“I will get there, though. That’s the main thing. And until I do, I won’t give up. Thanks for the support, by the way. I really appreciate being able to do this with a team. It makes things easier.”
“Taze says that if we're supposed to be a muscle for equestria all the fibers need to pull and push as one or else all you get is bloody tears and weak tissue,” a pegasus mare said. “He doesn't forgive himself a single hoof step off of ours.”
“And I won’t either when I’m finally strong enough. For now, I’m doing the best that I can, but I know my body’s limits. If I push myself much further I know I’ll have an asthma attack. Honestly, I can’t believe I’ve made this much progress in so short a time. My metabolism was never this fast back home.” Conor took a swig from a canteen he had over on the side as he rubbed his temples and massaged his forehead. “... Stupid headache’s back again,” he muttered.
“Are headaches normal for you?” Rook asked him cautiously.
“Not usually. Most of the time humans only get them after straining their eyes too long or possibly from dehydration. My prescription should still be up to snuff for my glasses, so I doubt that’s the cause,” he sighed. “It’s probably nothing. I just need to drink lots of water. And maybe get another one of those cupcakes Pinkie gave me. That remedy actually worked.”
“That Pinke is either a genius or the most insane pony I've ever met, but she isn't dangerous, so I see why Ponyville trusts her,” Rook said.
“By the way, thanks for staying with me and being patient with how slow I am, Rook. I really do appreciate it.” Conor winced again as he rubbed. “Come on, come on already.”
“You go and lay down. Maybe put some ice on that. I wouldn't want to get on Grif`s bad side cause I pushed you too hard.”
Conor shook his head. “It’s not you, Rook. I promise. I don’t know what it is, truth be told.” he sighed. “... It’s sort of been going on all week.”
“Perhaps it's time to visit the doctor,” Rook said.
“Only if it’s after today’s training. I already told the other ponies. I’m not going to wuss out on my responsibilities.” His face grew hard and determined. “What’s next?”
“You. Doctor’s office. Now.”
“With all due respect, not till after training, sir.”
“Bruiser,” Rook called out. A solid grey earth pony moved out of the training group. This earth pony was only a hand smaller than Big Mac, but every step made the muscles under his coat more obvious. “Help Conor here to the doctors office,” he ordered. The earth pony nodded walking up to the human and in one motion ducked down and darted under him between his legs. Then he stood up straight, lifting the human’s feet off the ground. Without a word he headed off, the human shouting back the whole way as he tried to get off.
“I’ll get you for this, Roo-woah!”
Pensword smiled as he looked up and quickly took to the air as he flew towards two growing shapes. “Grif!” He called as he dipped below a Gryphon, tripping him up as he carried practice equipment that had recently been polished. He cursed as Pensword flew past. “Sorry!” he cried as he banked to the left, rushing to meet his friends. “Shrial!” He called out again. “You are a sight for worried eyes.”
“Well you're still in one piece. That’s a good start.” Grif laughed.
“Yeah, I am happy I am in one piece. There was no massive civil war between Gryphon Slayers and Bladfeathers. Your flag got finished and it triggered an idea for me. You might like where it is being displayed and the map the architects drew up for the courtyard.” He smiled. “Also, I am starting to get used to the Gryphons,” he said as he quickly took a position to Grif’s left. He frowned then. “However, I am getting worried. Conor’s back in the medical center. His headaches have returned. The doctors are running some tests, but he may need to be transferred to the hospital at Ponyville. The Mane Six are out of town so I cannot get one of Pinkie’s Cureall Cupcakes, as I call them for my own mental sanity. And Shawn, well, the last two days he has shut himself in his room.”
“He'll come out when he needs to eat.” Grif laughed as he landed, looking back to Shrial. She clung to the strap around her torso holding what looked like a gigantic razor-thin sheath as she looked back to her mate. The two knew only too well the precious treasure that lay within.
“Shawn will be fine, Pensword. He always is. Come. Grif has some things to show you, and we both have quite the tale to tell.”
Pensword landed next to his friend and realized for what felt like the first time how much smaller he was compared to Grif. “Oh? Well, is it something that needs the security of my office or something?” He asked.
“Not all of it.” Grif smiled, lifting a talon. The air seemed to dance around his hand before moving through the the intervening space to coil gently around Pensword, then dissipate itself.
Pensword stared in awe at the sight he was seeing, or perhaps not seeing. Were it not for the specks of dirt that trailed with the wind, he would have perceived nothing. “What, that, What did I just feel?” he asked in awe.
“That answer is something I'd need to tell you about in your office,” Grif said. “We had a run in with someone that we can't exactly talk about with alot of open ears.”
“Very well, let us retire to my office-” Pensword spoke
Pensword was cut off as the most horrific and painful scream they had ever heard echoed throughout New Unity. A scream that had never before been heard, yet at least seven individuals would recognize.
Pensword, Grif, and Shiral raced down the halls together. Later they were joined by Conor, who was dressed in pants, but missing his shirt. A hospital gown covered his hairy torso as wires draped beneath, clacking together as he ran, grimacing. In the final moments Lunar Fang met the others, quickly handing Pensword his wing blades as she finished mounting her own. Pensword recognized them well, the blades from his wedding. He nodded grimly as they found Tower and Blast trying to attack the door, not budging.
“Out of the way!” Grif shouted as he headed for the door. Both earth ponies looked confused, but obeyed as Grif punched a heavy fist against the door. As it made contact a strong blast of wind shot out, tearing the door from its hinges.
Pensword ducked below Grif’s arm and charged the room. The others saw him freeze mid step as he stared. Lunar Fang jumped over Grif and froze, landing on Pensword’s back, both looking like life sized statues that could stack one on top of the other.
“Guys? What is it? What’s wrong? I can’t see.” Conor tried his best to wedge past the now frozen ponies and gryphon.
“Tower, Blast, take the girls and Conor and get them out of here.” Grif’s voice shook as he spoke. “Get them away now.”
“Like hell you will!” Conor swore, shocking both Grif and Pensword as he thrust his way through the opening and into the room before anyone could pull him back. A dark chill fell over his body as he passed. Something was in here. Something dark. And it was not happy. He winced, putting a hand to his head once more as the headache stabbed into his skull.
The inside of the study was completely black save for a single candle still burning faintly as it somewhat revealed the room. Shadows warped and shifted, causing all to be distorted. The once pristine desk was flipped onto its side, books and papers scattered about the room covered in a dark purple, near black, fluid that crawled towards the back of the room. There, against the wall, Shawn lay prostrate on his knees and elbows, the fluid pooling around him. His eyes closed as he coughed. With each bout more of the substance flew from his mouth, each time with greater violence, greater force.
Conor stepped slowly forward. He hadn’t felt this way since his friends had decided to talk about ghost stories and horror shows. All the warmth seemed to leech out of the room as the talk had continued. The main difference here was this felt more malevolent, amplified.
“... Shawn?” Conor called gently, concerned. “Shawn, are you alright?” He pressed closer to the slime, careful to remain away from the edge.
“What do you think, genius?” Shawn responded, his voice hoarse as he spoke before he groaned loudly in pain. The fluid collected itself around his right arm, slowly rising.
“Conor, get back.” Grif finally managed to find his voice again. “Something’s wrong. That’s not our Shawn.”
“What do you mean, not your Shawn?” Shawn called out once again before groaning, his voice soft as he spoke again. “...Run… I… I’m fading...” The substance was slowly solidifying itself onto his right arm, taking a crystalline appearance as it congealed.
Pensword had a look of absolute terror on his face. His eyes were almost glazed as he zoned out. “Fall back,” he whispered. “Fall back… get the door solidified.” He felt ice in his barrel as his life mate collapsed and hugged him around his neck.
Shawn moved his head towards them as he opened his eyes, his left eye clouded and unfocused while his right showed differently. A black energy seeped from it, his iris crimson as the rest turned black. “...Run… you… idiots..”
“Shawn?” Conor reached out and touched the crystal briefly. Receiving a shock, he recoiled, then turned to leave. “We’ll find a way to help you, Shawn.” With that, he left the room, back into the warmth of the hallway, his body trembling. “I have felt this but a few times in my life. Whatever’s got a hold of Shawn, it’s pure evil.”
As Conor passed, Pensword and Lunar Fang finally broke and tore out of the room like Tirek himself was after them. Pensword looked gravely to the Shields. “Drop Containment walls six and seven. I want this corridor sealed off to delay him.”
“Delay?” Blast Shield asked.
“This is Lord Shawn we are talking about. We can only delay at most. I want all civilians evacuated across the bridge. All of Shawn’s troops are to go with them as escort,” he ordered. “If he breaks through these…. I want the bridge destroyed and the Princesses to recall the Element holders if they can. That is Corruption.” He pointed a wing behind him, his mind drawing parallels between the events with Sombra in the Crystal Empire and just now. “NOW MOVE, YOU FOALS!” He ordered as the others started to race past them.
Grif looked to Shrial.
“Get to the family. Get the fledglings, the elderly, and anyone else who isn't ready to fight together and have Kalima and Thalia guide them to Zecora’s. Or perhaps this garden Thalia visited if necessary. Get Big Guns to bring down the gate.”
“I’ll do it. But you’d better not die on me. We need you alive, Grif Grafson.” She kissed him full on the beak, then flew off. “Mother!” She shrieked, unleashing a battle cry to rally the gryphon forces together.
Pensword nodded as a metal gate was pulled from the top of the ceiling and swung down to latch into place. They quickly flew back and lowered another sheet to reinforce the first. As they pulled back, Pensword looked down the other abandoned hallway before looking at the T-Section. He ordered another plate lowered to seal off the junction before he nodded. “Pull all you can from the castle. We are implementing Empty Nest,” he ordered.
“You get to the gate with the rest. I’ll meet you there,” Grif told Pensword as he turned to the metal plates and began hitting the outer surface with blasts of air. Slowly the metal cooled under the gryphon’s efforts. “I can buy a few seconds.”
“Right.” Pensword nodded his head. “Just do not go last stand. I do not want you at my side having passed on. I want you whacking me on the head with your wings when I do something dumb in the future.” He kept his voice under control. “Keep him busy, but do not engage him. If he starts to talk to you, talk back. Stall if you can.” With that he took off down the hallway to help with the sudden retreat. He had a gut feeling that whatever happened, Celestia would be coming soon. He just hoped she could help.
Pensword looked to his Life Mate, Lunar Fang, as they raced to their quarters. They would be carrying only the bare necessities and leave the rest. They quickly entered the room and while Pensword made use of his build to carry supplies for their trip, Lunar Fang was gathering all the supplies and a few toys for Moon River, who she carefully strapped to her barrel. They looked at each other for a moment before Lunar Fang took to the stairs while Pensword sealed up the Solar Suite. He looked around the hallway. “I shall Return,” he whispered before flying up and releasing the metal slab. It swung down and fell into the grooves built to hold the metal in place. “Hopefully that thing will not come this way.” He landed and took to running down the stairs. He did not want to risk straining his wings with the extra weight he was carrying.
Doctor Glyph Reader was practically dancing as the pillar throbbed with energy. A deep purple glow covered the stone as tendrils of darkness fed into it. “Yes, master, feed on it. Feed on the precious darkness and regain your former self.”
A dark and malevolent laughter echoed in the pegasus’ brain. “Yes! I feel it. So fresh, so powerful. So dark. Who would have thought my little crystal could produce so much evil. Welcome to the dark side, Hammer Strike.” Sombra laughed again.
“Master, the bird is back.” Glyph Reader frowned. “And he’s changed from your memories. Should I act to stop him?”
“No. If I know the bird, and I know him well, he will seek to destroy his lord. Let my viceroy to be take care of him. We shall remain hidden for now and bide our time until the opportunity arises to strike.”
“Soon all shall know your beautiful darkness, Master.” Glyph Reader smiled. “Your glory shall block out the sun and sunder the moon.”
“Celestia will die swiftly. But as for Luna … I have plans for her.” Sombra chuckled darkly. “Yes, I will kill her precious stars one spark at a time. And then, my darkness shall consume her pathetic light.”
“No one may know the true glory of your darkness, Master. The elements and the heart shall shatter and the light be forever shrouded.” He cackled. “And what of the mare who dared to reveal your secrets?”
“She has already had a taste of power. There is potential. I will use that potential and bend it to my will. Twilight Sparkle will succumb to the darkness in her heart, or she will perish.”
Outside in the main plaza, the commotion was as bad as market day. Confused ponies watched and bumped into one another as Soldiers did their best to herd them over the bridge to safety.
“Thalia, Kalima, take the little ones and all the old ones and get them to safety. Fly to the forest. You’ll find a hut there with several totems and boulders. A zebra lives there. Go, tell her the situation, and don’t let anyone leave her protection,” Shrial ordered. Thalia nodded.
“I know the place. I will seek her advice on the matter,” she said as she took to the air, the little ones soon joining her.”Alright, fledglings, time to earn your wings. Mother, you lead the old ones and follow me.” With that, the gryphons flew off together, the elder trailing the younger as they sought the refuge of the Everfree.
Shrial turned to face the rest of the troops.“As for the rest of you, I want you on escort detail. Get those civilians to safety in an organized manner, understood? No harm is to come to them. If any does, I’ll have your primaries. Now move!”
While the Griffons worked to maintain order from above, some of the architects were interrupting the flow below, blocking traffic as ponies tried to sift around them.
“Now hold on a minute. What’s the deal here? What’s happening?” they demanded in a babbling chorus as the guards did their best to keep the herd moving forward. One particularly stubborn craftspony, most likely their leader judging by his size, glared stubbornly at the guards.
“We aren’t moving from this spot until we get some answers.
Finally one of the guards snapped. “Look, I don’t know why, but we were told to get all civilians away from the castle as soon as possible. Whatever it is, it spooked the Commander, Grif is nowhere to be seen, nor Lord Shawn, nor Lord Hammer Strike. The Commander doesn’t give an order like this unless there’s a good reason. Now you’d better turn that flank of yours around or so help me, I’ll move it for you.”
“Are you saying that something is in that place attacking ponies?” One of the Civilians cried out as the word picked up. It soon spread like a grassfire on a dry Australian day. The artisans paled, many ponies screamed, and soon, rather than trying to push ponies forward, the guards were trying to prevent a stampede.
Fortunately, the bridge itself was being controlled by two rather large guards. One had a solid red coat while the one next to him had a solid blue one. Otherwise, they were completely identical.
“Calming down. Ponies is not getting anywhere with the screaming and the running,” the red one boomed in a deep voice.
“Da! Da! Best be taking the bridge in groups being no larger than five wide at a time,” the blue one roared. The stampede seemed to at least slow down as the two heavy muscled ponies kept them organized.
Pensword looked to his wife and kissed her on the forehead before dropping down to kiss his daughter. “My two,” He began, “Please be safe. When you arrive in Ponyville I need thee to both contact High Chieftess Luna and Princess Celestia.” He turned his head to the castle for a moment, his face unreadable. “Please be safe,” he repeated. “Lunar Fang, if I fall, You are to be the next in line for command in this battle situation.”
Lunar Fang’s face grew angry as she leaned forward. “Don’t you dare think like that. I am not,” She stopped as Pensword kissed her deeply on the muzzle. He slowly pulled away.
“Dear, I plan to have another foal with you in another year. But I have to keep the future of the military in tact. I will hold and snuggle with you when this is all over. Just remember, keep Moon River safe, and keep those panicking foals on the bridge in line. I will fall back when I can.”
Lunar Fang nodded her head slowly before pushing her forehead against her Life Mate’s. “I know, just, you come back to me in one piece.”
“I know. And dear,” He whispered. “Thank you for helping me get that Dragon’s blood off my body back during the Third Gryphon War.”
She smiled, showing her fangs.
“I promised I would be with you, and help you in everything I could do. You stay safe.” With that She quickly joined another group that were streaming out the gate. Thankfully, the evacuation was nearly finished. Pensword just hoped Grif would help stall Shawn.”
Pensword watched his Life Mate leave before turning to find Conor wearing some hodgepodge armor. He frowned. “Conor, you are to accompany the Cadets and Lighting Dust towards Ponyville and Fort Necessity. Await either our all clear, or us falling back to your position.” He held up a wing and spoke over the objections. “Also, I need someone to watch my daughter while Lunar Fang follows her calling and helps with the battle preparations.” He took to the air to look right into Conor’s eyes. “Is that clear?”
“... Fine,” Conor grumbled. “But you’d better not kill him. He’s still our Shawn.” Conor held out his arms, waiting for the foal, his face screwed into an angry scowl, whether from the headaches, or the anger at being sent away, none could tell.
“Moon River is with her mother, who just exited the gate. Meet up with Lunar Fang on the road or at Fort Necessity. Is that clear?” Pensword asked, still in the air. “You want to hold your adopted Niece? Then go find Lunar Fang.”
“... Good luck, Pensword,” Conor said, his expression softening. “Be safe. All of you.” Then he rushed across the bridge, pushing his way through like a pale styrofoam peanut in a flowing river.
Pensword looked towards Conor. “Good luck. And may this trouble not follow you,” he whispered as he turned back to help with some other evacuees. He noticed Epona pulling her wagon again, only this time ponies stared, confused, from the back as they looked on the castle. Link was doing his best to comfort Zelda as she cried. “Smart Mare,” Pensword muttered to himself.
Sweat started to trickle down Grif’s forehead as he kept the air moving around the metal. The problem was that Grif could move the air, but not cool it, and the room was running out of cool air to move. He could already see points where the metal was turning a cherry red. He had to back away from it as the heat became too much for him to take.
At one of the points where the metal glowed red, Shawn's fist broke through. After a moment he grabbed hold of the edge and began to pull at it. The sound of bending and screeching metal followed.
“Sh… Shawn?” Grif asked, stepping back cautiously.
“Of course it’s me, you idiot!” He heard Shawn yell back, his voice still hoarse. “Now help me get this barrier out of my way.” Shawn continued as he pulled away the metal, revealing the blackened crystals around his right arm as it stuck through.
“Shawn wasn't one to hold back, but he'd never call a friend an idiot,” Grif said. “I don’t know what you are, but you're just using him.”
“And you’re an idiot for thinking so.”
Grif threw his hands out, his energy nearly spent. The best he could do was send a hardened gust of air through the hole at shawn.
“What do you think you’re doing?You’re not helping in the slightest,” Shawn said as he slammed his foot against the metal, bending it out of his way with each strike.
“Not helping you,” Grif said, drawing his swords. He slashed at the nearby supports for the doorway. They cut clean through with the first stroke. The roof began groaning with the new strain. He ducked through the door just as the stones gave way, effectively blocking the passage, at least for a time.
Grif took a moment to breathe only to watch as the stones began to shrink away to nothing. The gryphon’s eyes widened. He moved down the hallway striking randomly at stone and wood, attempting to hold his friend off.
Tearing through the entrance, Grif took to the air. “BIG GUNS, PLEASE TELL ME YOU GOT THAT GATE DOWN NOW!” he shouted.
The minotaur grunted. “Almost … GOT IT!” he bellowed triumphantly as his axe cut through the support chains and pulleys. “Incoming!” he shouted as the gate boomed heavily shut with the finality of a tomb.
“Get across the bridge now,” Grif ordered as he landed outside the wall.
Big Guns dropped a rope and slowly rappelled down, his hooves clopping heavily into the stone wall with each impact. Then he dropped to the ground and started to run. “What about you?” he called back.
“I can fly,” Grif said, pointing to his wings. “I’ll keep an eye out from this end.”
“What now? You want me to head for Ponyville?”
“Head into the forest. You’ll find a hut. Thalia and her mother are there. Keep everybody safe.”
“I know the place.” Big Guns nodded and immediately trotted into the woods. “Be careful!” he called back.
The entrance doors slammed open. After a second Shawn walked out. His sleeves were in tatters, his right arm covered in darkened crystals that traveled up to his shoulder. Both eyes trailed a black energy that continuously flowed. He scanned the courtyard, noting the distinct lack of ponies before turning to head back inside.
Pensword was in one of the smaller side rooms storing documents and the like in a stone vault in the floor. He nodded his head as he moved to the door, looking to the sky and then back to the castle. He planned to return once he got information on how to combat what he was seeing. The Crystals reminded him too much of Sombra to be a coincidence. He froze as the doors slammed open and he saw Shawn. His eyes widened as the new Shawn stood in all his terror, the dark crystals pulsing in the sunlight. He guessed he made a sound as Shawn shifted his gaze to the pony. Pensword’s body froze in a sense of dread, feeling that if he tried to move he would die where he stood.
“Pensword,” Shawn called out. “Where is everyone?”
Pensword’s mouth felt dry. One wrong word could mean his death.
“Something came up that we felt couldn’t be fully contained. I ordered the evacuation of the castle. We were going to return with proper equipment to contain the breach and make it safe for Civilians again.” He prayed to faust the lie would work.
“Figures,” Shawn commented. “What is it exactly that is so hard to contain?”
“Magic,” Pensword responded. “Magic similar to what we encountered at the Crystal Empire.” He hoped his half truths would fit. “At the moment it is loose and could be hiding anywhere in the castle. There is no way I am going to let a second Sombra rise.” He fluffed his wings in a twitch.
Shawn chuckled. “Sombra… The fool had no idea what power he sat on. What he could have done with it,” Shawn said, lifting his right arm as he gazed into the pulsing light of his crystals. “But I know what can be done… I know exactly how to do it, too...” He chuckled again.
Pensword couldn’t begin to explain the emotions he had going through his mind as he looked on his friend. “What,” he began, “are you planning?” He continued praying, this time asking that Celestia or Luna would arrive to give a challenge, or at least distract Shawn for him to escape alive.
“I plan on fixing issues that I’ve noticed. The nobles, for example. Perhaps I could teach Celestia and Luna a few things, tell them about a few changes for the kingdom.”
Pensword paused. “Let’s stick with talking to the Princess's first, and maybe move from there,” he suggested, still unable to move. He gave a nervous smile. “Shawn, why am I terrified?”
“I don’t know. Why are you lying to me?” Shawn replied.
“Lying?” Pensword asked. “I am not lying about talking to the Princesses. They are on their way, most likely. There is something here in the Castle that needs to be contained to prevent a second Sombra-like incursion. And third,” he turned around and yelled at thin air. “Of course I am scared Whirlwind, I do not want to be on your plane of existence yet. I have a family to protect from this magic.”
“What are you hiding, Pensword?” Shawn raised his tone.
The moment Pensword broke eye contact the terror lessened and he found he could move. Without a word he shot into the air and flew as fast as equinely possible away from the corrupted human. “Shawn,” His voice broke. “I’m sorry, I have to make sure my daughter is okay… she didn’t look right.” He hoped this one last white lie might buy him some time.
Shawn waved his hand with disinterest.
Pensword caught the move from the shadows, but was too frightened to care. He quickly landed onto the pathway leading back to Ponyville. He turned back to the sealed gate, pondering it for a moment. Then he turned to the bridge and slowly walked away, his head bowed in shame. How was he going to save his friend? How could they purify him? They couldn’t risk the crystal heart; that blew Sombra up. He couldn’t risk losing his friend. He wouldn’t.
“What are we going to do?”
Grif couldn't look at Shrial or the other gryphons as he ordered the retreat. He had run from a battle and left a friend in trouble. Worst of all there was still something else in the castle he could feel pulling right down to his very soul. He took one look back before he led the warriors beyond the forest's edge to Zecora's hut.
“Why are we retreating?” Gilda asked as they moved. “You said a warrior's resolve should be their rock.”
“That magic,” Grif said. “Last time I encountered it, good ponies were corrupted and turned into mindless slaves by the one wielding it. Myself and the group I had with me fighting them were wiped out. I can't see you all dead. Neither by that magic, nor by the fight that would follow,” Grif said. “It almost took me.” He subconsciously rubbed his left arm.
“Then how did you fight it last time?” she asked.
“We holed up in the mines, struck at random places before fading back. We managed to get enough of Star Swirl’s exploding stone to destroy the city’s outer wall. Help got through, but not before every one of the ponies fighting with me died.”
“Then why don’t we just call in the crystal empire for help? They have a weapon that can beat it, right? And you and Pensword are close to the royal family. Can’t you just …?” Gilda left it hanging in the air.
“The weapon is a device with a very strict range and needs to be in a specific location to be used. Unless we can move the crystal empire a few thousand miles, we can’t expect help from that.” Grif shook his head. “We need to regroup and think about this in safety.”
“Why not just rush him? I mean there are a few dozen as is. If we all attacked him at once we could probably-” Gilda was cut off as a throwing blade sheared the air so close to her face she could feel it.
“We could what? Kill him? Even if we had enough force that's not an option. Somewhere under all that dark power is my friend. And for some of us, that means something!” Grif glared at her. He unsheathed a blade and held it out. The gryphons all looked on the sword with a type of awe and fear as the eons old razor sharp blade stood firm in his grasp. “I read the notes on this metal. Apparently Twilight did some tests for shawn while he was working on it. It can channel and absorb magic and seems to be one of the few materials that even hammerstrike can’t identify the aspects of. You think I couldn't have turned these blades on him?” He glared at Gilda. “You want to be a warrior? Then remember this: your heart reflects your code. I will not be the one to kill Shawn. There will be another way. I don't care if we need to wait till the elements return and use the elements of harmony against him. We won't be attacking him. Is that clear?”
Gilda gave a gulp and a nod, which was followed and repeated by a few of the other warriors. Grif looked to Zecora as they alighted at the makeshift camp. Tents and the like had already begun to be set up as the zebra trotted out to meet him. “I realise you're not a refugee camp or anything, but can the young and old stay with you? I’m willing to pay you for it.”
“They may stay as long as they need. But they must hunt in the wilds to feed. I have but one rule as plain as can be. Stay away from my potions. Do not touch anything.” A large minotaur tromped up to her and smiled sheepishly.
“Thank you, Zecora,” Big Guns said. “We appreciate it more than you know.”
Zecora’s eyes widened, then narrowed when she saw the weapons. “You. Inside. Now. We have much to discuss, and how.” Big Guns nodded and clopped inside as the other gryphons and younglings prepared to make camp.
Conor kept a close eye out, searching for any signs of Lunar Fang, but every thestral he passed said they hadn’t seen her. He sighed as they crested the final slope. There lay the little hamlet he had grown to love for its crazy antics and loving atmosphere. Now they were fleeing to Ponyville as a refugee camp where a wooden fort lay in wait to house the ousted ponies. He absently pulled at his newly spun navy cotton shirt. For some reason it kept yanking at his hairs, leaving little nicks of pain like a hairbrush catching a snag.
“Rook, how’s everyone holding up?” he asked, looking back at the herd with concern.
“We've been taking shifts carrying those who can't keep moving, but everypony is worn and tired. Morale’s low at the moment,” Rook said. “Whatever was in there had Pensword and Grif frightened. That’s not a pleasant thought.”
“No, no it’s not.” Conor looked down on the hamlet again as he and the other cadets pointed the herd towards the town. “A scout is going to need to alert the mayor about what’s happened. Has a pegasus or thestral gone ahead already?”
“We sent Forward Scout ahead,” rook said. “No one liked his jokes anyway.”
“Good. Then most of the ponies in Ponyville should hopefully have the fort ready for occupation. I’d hate for anyone to be caught out in the cold.” He sighed heavily as he put a hand to his head.
Something gooey and sticky brushed against Conor's other hand. He looked down to see the timberwolf pup, more than a little surprised.
“Oh, Sylvio. What’re you doing here? Shouldn’t you be with the gryphons and Grif right now?”
The timberwolf looked to his back where a familiar foal sat happily enjoying her ride. Sylvio let out a small yip, making the foal giggle. He looked to Conor with what almost seemed to be a grin.
“Moon River?” Conor stared at the wolf, his eyes wide. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve been looking for her? Has she been on your back this whole time?”
Sylvio let out a whimper communicating in the best way possible that he was protecting this small pony because she was important to Grif.
“Did Lunar Fang give her to you?”
The wolf lowered his head and rose it once, growling slightly. The she pony trusted him with her pup and she was part of Grif’s pack. Therefore, she was part of Sylvio`s pack.
“Why that no good, lying little …” Conor wrung his hands and gritted his teeth as another spasm of pain ran through his head. “Augh!” Without thinking he brought his sticky hand up to his head, leaving a trail of sap all over his face. He growled. “Great, just great! All I fricking need!”
Sylvio let out a whimper, backing away slightly as his wooden ears slid downwards.
Conor turned to storm down the street, stepping forward with a purpose, but as he planted his first step, his momentum didn’t stop as he suddenly fell forward, his face planting in the dirt and stones of the path. Black Rook swiveled as he heard the fall.
“Conor!” Rook rushed over to the human. He looked around anxiously before spotting some familiar figures “Oak, Williow, help us!”
Tall Oak and Little Williow charged forward. The mare was quick to check his vitals. “He’s alive. We need to get him to the hospital.” She looked at her brother. “Think you can carry him?”
“Eeyup,” Tall Oak answered, lowering himself to the ground. Little Willow and Black Rook carefully worked on lifting the prone human’s body and positioning him so he wouldn’t fall. Using some cord to secure him on the stallion’s back, Little Willow and her brother charged ahead in the direction of Ponyville Hospital.
In New Unity, forgotten by the former residents, and ignored by the current corrupted lord, The Great and Powerful Trixie was just finishing her breakfast of milk, oats, and an apple when a deep tingle raced through her body and a chill clutched at her heart. She had felt this way only once before when she first lay eyes on the Alicorn Amulet. Now that she knew it for what it was, The Great and Powerful Trixie stood bolt upright. “Dark Magic? Here?” She let loose a small eep as she eyed the dark mists billowing from the dungeon door and seeping up from the stones. “The Great and Powerful Trixie must defend herself!” She shot at the mists with her horn only for the energy to pass lightly through, leaving no lasting effect.
“Ohhhh what was that spell Light Horn used?” she said to her herself, trying to recall her training before she left and took to the road. The shadows drew nearer, as did the mist. She screamed. “I don’t want to die!” Her eyes darted left and right, desperate as she jumped onto her cott. She slapped herself with a hoof. “Come on, Trixie, get ahold of yourself. Concentrate.” She closed her eyes, her brow furrowed as her magic began to pool at her horn. The mists crept up the legs of her cott.
“Against the darkness I now defend. Protect me that I may make amends!” She cried aloud as she raised her horn, her eyes glowing white as her body rose. A shining barrier of light purple, almost pink, magic flowed outwards, pressing the darkness back. Slowly she lowered to the bedding. She swayed on her hooves. “I … I did it? I did it!” Trixie cried triumphantly before letting out a groan and crumpling into her sheets.
Pensword looked at the bridge from his position. He marveled, well, his human side marveled, at how he could inspect the bridge without any safety gear. Even after all this time, the fact he had wings that could fly still fascinated him. What made him frown was what he saw.
“Nothing. We built this thing to be sturdy, but...” He looked where the rock had blackened. “What did Shawn build this out of? The blasts should have knocked the bridge out. Do I need an Abrams Tank or something? Could a Saber round even do that?” He moved back to the path, looking around as he landed. “We sure know how to build things to last,” he said to himself, shaking his head.
A bright flash of light caught the Pony’s attention coming from within the walls of the general courtyard. “Pensword? Hammer Strike? Grif? Is everything alright?” Celestia called, her voice filled with worry.
“Princess.” Pensword spoke in shock. He quickly took to the air and flew over the wall. He landed, giving a hurried bow, another item he had come to terms with, and another step in integrating into Equestria. He approached the Princess and rapidly began to speak. “Shawn, Shawn, something happened, he, went all crazy on things. And he reminds me so much of Sombra now, but,” he paused for a moment. “Yet he did not attack us. He seems like himself, but not like himself. I can feel it inside me. That same emotion, that same, gut feel with Sombra. Princess, what are we to do? We do not have the Elements of Harmony with us. Nor can we really go all out for fear of killing our friend.”
“Pensword, Pensword, please slow down. Tell me what happened from the beginning. Slowly. When I felt Hammer Strike’s magic dissipate and received word of the evacuation from Spike I came to investigate. You mentioned Sombra?”
Pensword looked nervous. “Not here. Not in the courtyard… I do not want to bring his ire. Can I speak to you outside on the bridge?” His left ear twitched at every sound in the courtyard. A moment later a loud clang of metal being struck rang through the deserted castle city. Pensword jumped into the air. “Also, do not look into his eyes or you will feel like a false step will kill you.”
Celestia dropped her look of concern for her grave expression. “Clearly you have much to tell me.” In a bright flash of light, the pair were gone as a cold wind blew through the courtyard and black clouds gathered overhead.
Conor lay on the hospital bed. A sheen of sweat covered his furrowed brow as he tossed and turned weakly, mumbling incomprehensibly in his sleep. Nurse Redheart and Doctor Strange sat looking over his charts.
“I’ve never seen anything like it before, Doctor. You’re our special cases, and well … this seemed a special case,” she said, shuffling her hooves. Doctor Strange flipped through the charts.
“Shouldn't you be calling in a mage or something? You already confirmed the source is magical,” Little Willow noted.
“The scans showed more than an issue with magic, Willow.” Nurse Redheart pulled out a black sheet of a similar consistency to photographs. Doctor Strange took it in his magic and placed it on a light board as he flicked the switch. The human’s skull was now on display for everyone to see. “You see that? Right there,” Redheart said, pointing to the forehead. A strange mass had appeared, pressing awkwardly against the bone. “Our tests indicate this could be only one thing, but it’s impossible.”
“Okay, I’ve never seen a human’s skull before, let alone a pony’s, but-” Little Willow pointed to the object with her hoof. “-that can't be what it looks like.”
“... Interesting, but not my concern,” Doctor Strange said “If he can’t pay for the bills I have no business treating him.” He turned to leave just as the doors burst open, a huffing Lunar Fang blocking his way.
Lunar Fang looked at the Doctor. “Okay, right,” She smiled as brushed off a few imaginary dust spots from her armor. “I am here to say that all billings are to be forwarded to Lord Shawn. He’s taken a keen interest in helping the human find his place in Equestria. If you have a problem with that, you can take it up with him.” She was looking right at the Doctor, and thus missed the x-ray. “Is that understood? Do everything you can. Do any test you think can help. Bill when this is over.”
“Umm … alright then,” the unicorn doctor said as he rubbed a hoof over his forehead. “Nurse, I want a biopsy ready stat. We need to verify before we jump to any conclusions. Slate the patient as soon as possible. I’ll prep for the surgery.”
Conor stared into the darkness surrounding him. Roots and trees reared in ugly poses, their bows reaching down as if to take grab him and never let go. “Hello?” he cried, searching for any signs of life. “Is anybody there?” No response came. Shivering in a cold wind, he walked as dark clouds brooded overhead. Thunder boomed and water poured, chilling him further as it lashed against his glasses, sopping his clothes. He ran for shelter, searching anywhere, everywhere. At last he came upon a cave and ran inside. The patter of the rain grew less as he shivered in the darkness. Soon it passed altogether.
“Where am I?” he asked, searching for any signs of light. He could barely make out the hand in front of his face and soon, even that light was gone. His voice re-echoed back upon him as he looked down the tunnel, or at least where he thought the tunnel was. He got up and slowly picked his way as he felt the tunnel walls. They slowly grew softer, more moist as he continued along. Finally, he pulled his hand away entirely. “Eeyuck, what is this stuff?”
“This stuff, this stuff,” echoed back. The sticky substance clung to his hand even as he tried to wipe it off on his pants. A gurgling sound echoed faintly as he slowly made his way along, doing his best not to touch the slimy walls this time, though he did bump into them occasionally. How long had he been walking now? He didn’t know. His legs felt so tired. He sat down for a time. The sounds had grown so loud now. He was so close. Maybe there was a river, a stream, something to drink from and get a position for where to go. He sighed and closed his eyes for what felt like moments. When he opened them again, lights bobbed down the path. He closed. He opened. Closer now. They looked so cute. So small. Closed. Opened. Bigger now, but still cute. Little purple blobs. He looked down, nodded his head and …
“Oh, Gross!” Conor shot to his feet. Whatever had been on the walls, he was covered in the stuff now. The lights from the approaching creatures shone, revealing a purple fleshy cave lined with a black viscous substance. Conor tried to run, but his feet wouldn’t move. Looking down, two blackened, clear crystalline structures had formed around his feet. He shuddered. “Okay, calm down, calm down, this is a dream. A nightmare. It has to be. You just have to wake up, Conor. So go ahead, just wake up. Wake up. … Now.” He squeezed his eyes shut, then opened again. No difference could be seen. “... Now.” He tried again. Again, nothing. “Come on!” The creatures had pooled around his feet and began to crawl up his legs, surrounding and drying, forming more of the same crystal … crystal he had seen before.
“Ohh crap.” He struggled, doing his best to break free as he tried to brush the things off or break them apart. It worked for a time, but then they latched onto his hands, congealing into a large gelatinous mass. Slowly, it hardened and weighed him down. He watched as the crystal began to emanate a dark mist while his hands and arms gradually joined with his lower torso in his rapidly growing crystalline prison. Deep in the facets, he could see the glowing red eyes of the corrupted Shawn. A red horn curved in the purple glow as glowing green eyes trailing purple smoke appeared, their laughter echoing, redoubling.
“Join us.”
“You are mine.”
“You are ours.”
“Come.” Echoes upon echoes and whispers upon whispers filled the air. And still they came; still the mass grew, until he could hardly move his own head. He felt something plop on his hair. Then, against his rational nature, he did something he had not done in a very, very long time. He screamed in absolute terror.
Celestia sat looking gravely upon her Commander. The court had been cleared of nobles and the usual spies routed by her magic. When the princess wanted a private audience, she got it, whether the nobles liked it or not. The curtains over the stained glass effigies of Equestria’s greatest moments made the room dark as the princess awaited the report. Pensword kneeled on the red carpet as torches ignited magically in the suddenly brooding atmosphere.
“Now tell me, Pensword. What’s happened?” Celestia demanded from her place on her throne.
“I do not know. Grif just returned from his honeymoon.” She looked at him, confused. “Its a human term for the time couples spend after being married. Still, semantics can be held back for another day. He’d just returned when a scream rent the air and we raced to knock down the door. It had come from Hammer Strike’s office.” He shuddered as he recalled the memory.
“When we arrived, the desk was flipped and papers were strewn everywhere. Shawn was in the corner as he was overcome by something ... something that harkened back to the days of Sombra’s corruption in the Crystal Empire. We sealed up his area, and knowing his strength and fire, I ordered the evacuation of New Unity. I did not, I could not, risk having an army under whatever dark influences had taken Shawn.”
Pensword moved a wing to rub his body as if he was cold. “We left, and I got a good look at him. He appeared like the corrupted guards: black crystals everywhere. We need something to combat this, to save him. But we don’t have the means right now. When can the Element holders arrive? Or can we only contain it? Keep him in New Unity?” He looked at Princess Celestia. “How do-?” he broke off. “You have fought Sombra directly. How do we proceed?”
Celestia looked stricken as she took in the pony’s report. “And you are certain of this?”
“I saw it with my own eyes. I stared right into the black and red abyss of what you might call the eyes of whatever that thing is. Shawn is in there, I know it. Just buried underneath. I want to attack it, to break it upon the might of the Equestrian Military, but I do not know if we can. This is Shawn we are talking about. This is Lord Hammer Strike. We would need fifty Dragons to even make him so much as pause. I … I am scared I am going to lose my friend. I thought I would be the first to be lost in this world, not him.”
Celestia got up from her throne and trotted to Pensword’s side, laying a wing upon him. “Pensword, we never know what life may throw at us. Such is the burden and privilege of leadership. For now, as much as we both may love Shawn and Hammer Strike, we must think of the bigger picture. If he truly has been corrupted as you say, we must protect our subjects.” She stared back at her throne where her trusty broadsword lay mounted, glimmering with its own miniature corona. Then she nodded her head. “Very well. As much as it pains me to say this, I will fight him. For now all we can do is stall him and pray to mother that Twilight and the others get back here in time. I’ll dispatch a message to them before we head out. You’d best prepare yourself as well. Get something to eat from the kitchen. Calm your nerves if you can. We reconvene here in one hour.”
Pensword nodded his head. He looked at his armor and wing blades. He had been ready for battle ever since Shawn had cried bloody murder. He sighed heavily.
“I wear this a little too often,” he muttered, trying his best to lighten his spirits. “I shall see you in one hour ... after I raid the kitchen. I hope they have sugarcane in supply,” he muttered under his breath as he left.
Celestia nodded, then disappeared in a flash of light. She had allies to contact and a state of emergency to declare.
Grif examined the large totems that lay around the property outside Zecora’s hut. He had suspected a while back that they somehow kept the beasts of the Everfree away, but this was the first time he'd actually stopped to examine them. Doing his best to sense the magic in them all he got was the feel you get when your hands are covered in dust, like touching something ancient.
“What are these?” Grif asked.
“These totems represent Zebras from the past. Their spirits protect me from evil’s blast.”
“Shawn said that everything has some sort of thaumaturgic feel, but when I try to identify what makes these up there’s nothing there. Just a feeling. How old are these things? Even their energy feels dusty.”
“The age does not matter, but the spirits that guide. Their wisdom and love powers the magic inside. Much like your swords, wind rider’s pride,” she said, motioning to Grif’s sabers.
“What do you know about these swords?” Grif asked, drawing a blade. “Shawn couldn't even figure out what they’re made of.”
Zecora smiled in that mysterious way of hers. “That is not my place to say. Seek out the spirits to show you the way. As you learn from the masters they each will reveal, a fragment of story for the power you wield.”
“I don't suppose you have something, a potion or anything that could save him?” Grif asked her. Seeing the look on her face, he sighed. “Can’t make a potion for everything, huh?”
Zecora shook her head sadly. “To purify and save his life, another must rise to end the strife.”
“You know, you are by far one of the easiest people to talk to in this entire area. That scares me somewhat.” He chuckled. “It's all too easy for you to get people’s secrets.”
“If I had wanted, no secret would be. Every pony’s truth would belong to me. But such would be an evil desire. To act on it would make me a cheat, spy, and liar. It is better to wait and let them come to me, so we both may learn, and we both may see.”
“Is there anything out there that can help shawn?” he asked the zebra.
Zecora sighed. “Nothing the spirits will allow me to see. The future, once clear, has grown very murky. I know not why they hold back now. What I said to you earlier is all they would allow.” Her brow furrowed in frustration.
“I really can't thank you enough for letting the others stay,” Grif said. “I don't even know if Shawn's dangerous, but I can't have my entire clan stuck there when they could be sitting over a crate of dynamite while the fuse is lit.”
“It is my pleasure to help those in need. In fact, it is my duty and creed.” She smiled forlornly. “I may not know what will happen next, but I believe that all will end for the best.”
“I need to head to Ponyville and reconvene with the others. But before I go, Shrial and I were wondering if there was something you could predict for us.” Grif smiled.
Pensword appeared in the Throne room. He looked to Celestia as he adjusted the armor straps and nodded his head. “I am ready, Princess.”
“Good. I’ve alerted my sister and sent out a message to the crystal empire to alert Twilight and the others. We just need to hold Shawn off until they get here. Hopefully the elements will be able to purge him of the crystals. In the mean time, it’s up to us to keep him occupied. We must neutralize this threat, no matter what.”
Pensword nodded as he looked to her. “I also sent messages to both Grif and Lunar Fang that I am having her act in my station as Commander of the Equestrian Forces. I am fully expecting to be chewed out by her when this is over, but I cannot just stand by while you fight Shawn alone. I have to help delay, or at the very least, help if he overpowers one of us.”
“Pensword, I have little hope of succeeding. Hammer Strike taught us how to fight in the first place. The most we’ll likely be able to hope for is a brief delay. If we’re lucky we may be able to knock him out. If we do, we can create a containment field for him until the element bearers arrive. But enough talk. We have to act.” Celestia hovered her sword onto her back and strapped it in place, her body fully bedecked in shining golden armor. “Alright, I’m ready. Let’s go visit Hammer Strike.” In a flash of sunlight the pair appeared in New Unity’s courtyard. Celestia sighed. “I had hoped never to have to fight on these grounds again.”
“I just hoped to never have to be the attacker on these grounds. I was prepared to defend it, but-” he trailed off suddenly as his ears moved to listen and try to find their target. “Do not move first. Let us see what he does first,” he whispered.
“Damned barriers!” They heard Shawn shout in the distance, other voices accompanying him as another clang of metal rang through the air.
Pensword froze. “Why do I hear other voices? Do you hear that Princess?” He asked as he moved to a defensive stance, unsure of what was happening. “How should we proceed?”
“... We wait. This is to buy the others time to find a cure. The longer he takes to get out here, the better.”
Soon heavy footsteps began to grow louder and louder as Shawn made his way through the castle. Eventually the doors burst open, revealing the human lord in all his darkened splendor. The crystals had grown from their last encounter, spreading over his neck to his face. Meanwhile, underneath, his veins showed on his skin in a dark purple hue that pulsed in time to the crystals. After a moment of looking at them he spoke. “Need something?”
“Rebus egent?” A voice whispered softly into their ears.
Pensword looked to the Princess before looking back at Shawn, careful not to look into his eyes this time around. “Well, I figured you might have liked to discuss some things with Celestia. As I am a friend still, but no longer in your employ.”
“You don’t come in here armed to the teeth just to talk,” he said, eyeing Celestia. “Now stop lying, what are you both doing here?” His voice echoed in whispers around them.
“I’m here to stall. And to fight, if you’re up for the challenge,” Celestia said, smirking.
“A challenge?” The voices chuckled around him. “If you want to spar you shouldn’t have brought equipment, because let's face it…” He eyed the gear they had. “It’s not going to last long…”
“Non diu ad omnes…”
“We are prepared to give it our all, Corruption.” Pensword dropped any and all pretenses. “You have taken a friend, and we shall have him back.”
“And he will come back,” Celestia said with surety in her voice.
“You really don’t know, do you…?” Shawn smiled as he began to laugh, the echoes surrounding the group as they grew in volume.
The hospital was a whirl of activity as screams echoed up and down its halls. Doctor Strange ran for all he was worth, horn glowing as he burst into the room. Conor’s eyes were wide open, his pupils dilated. The sensors were beeping off the charts as his heart rate continued to increase. Adrenaline levels climbed ever higher as the once comatose patient continued his terrified wail.
“Nurse Redheart, tell me what happened. I want to know five minutes ago!” He barked. “And get me some anesthetic on the double!” Conor tossed and turned, lashing with his arms and legs as pony nurses did their best to secure him to the bed with padded leather restraints.
“Move!” The doctor yelled as his horn flared. The straps came to life, latching on to the human’s ankles and wrists. Still Conor thrashed as thin white hairs began to emerge with the pale ichor that was his sweat. More straps lashed up to attach to calves, thighs, upper arms, and torso. Running a brief emergency scan with his horn brought mixed readings. Something was warping the magical field of the hospital room, reaching from an outside source. The doctor swore.
“How am I to treat a patient if I can’t find out what’s attacking him? Get me a mage in here, stat!”
In Fort Necessity, Lunar Fang sat in what was meant to be the quarters for Pensword and she now that they were married. She marveled that the residents of Ponyville had been following through and finished building despite their abandonment. She smiled as Sylvio lay on the carpet while Moon River played with her favorite wooden toy Gryphon. Lunar Fang, of all things, was trying to knit. Though the product she was making was not anything recognizable. She frowned. “I hope I can make a Lunar Helmet hat for my little Moon River,” she muttered, then smiled again as she looked forward to when her daughter would be old enough to start defensive lessons. It was something to pass the time and help take her worries away from her husband. Yet even so, her hooves still twitched from time to time as she continued working with the midnight blue yarn.
Sylvio Lupis got to his paws suddenly as his ears perked up. He leaned down to give moon river a lick on the head, causing her to giggle as sticky sap seeped its way in before he turned around and lunged out the window, shattering the glass.
Lunar Fang gasped as the wolf scattered into branches below before reforming and dashing off to Tartarus knew where. “GRIF!” She yelled as she flew to the fragmented panes. “You are paying for a new window!” she yelled out to the open air. Then, when she realized she was alone, she turned around. “He needs to train that wolf better,” she growled as she stomped away to find something to cover the new gap. At least the broken glass was on the outside of the building.
Outside, Sylvio took off as he hit the ground. Dirt clouds and sawdust lingered in the air as the Timber Wolf ran at full speed towards Ponyville Hospital. He didn't slow down as Big Mac pulled in front of him with a cartload of apples. Seconds before the wolf made impact, his body broke into pieces that slid under or over the cart before reforming on the other side.
Sylvio continued in a similar manner, ducking and dodging ponies, and sometimes simply jumping right over them. Nothing could deter him. As he approached, the hospital doors barely opened in time as he leapt over a little orange pegasus with a bandage wrapped around her foreleg. As he did so, bits of sap and sawdust dropped from his mouth, dripping over her mane.
“Not again!” Scootaloo cried aloud as Sylvio bounded into the waiting room. The nurses attempted to stop the wolf, but he simply broke apart and shifted around them. He knew where he had to be and nothing would keep him from his goal.
“What is all the ruckus about?” Doctor Strange yelled into the halls, pulling a nurse to the side as the Unicorn Mage consultant continued his work, his brow beaded with sweat as his horn pulsed and he mumbled words and incantations under his breath.
“I’m sorry, Doctor. A stray Timber Wolf has gotten into the building. We’re trying to contain it, but it keeps eluding the orderlies. We weren’t trained for this sort of thing.” The screams had grown hoarse, practically fading as the human’s eyes rolled into the back of his head, his chest heaving beneath the straps.
The timber wolf in question suddenly ran through the door, bowling past Nurse Redheart as he bounded, landing at the foot of the human’s bed. He growled menacingly at the doctor and mage. Unlike other members of its species, who were made of jagged pieces covered in bark, Sylvio’s wooden plates were smooth like varnished wood. Their colouring now stood a clean snowy white contrasted by the mud and dust he had gained during his run. Unlike the sickly green energy that burned in a normal timberwolf`s eyes, Sylvio’s burned with a blue fire.
The wolf turned to face Conor. The sound of several ponies gasping could be heard for a moment before the wolf leapt onto the bed, crep up to the human’s head, and slowly leaned down. A brief glow surrounded the wolf as the unicorn mage tried to pull him away only for it to die and snap back as the unicorn groaned. Sylvio paid it no mind as he sniffed the human, whimpered, then started licking his forehead repeatedly. The screams died instantly. Conor convulsed once, twice, coughed up a brief cloud of blackish purple mist, then settled limply on his bed. Sylvio continued to lick him until a thick layer of sap had formed over the human’s head. Then he leapt down, sat next to the bed, and waited, blinking curiously at the pony onlookers.
“Aroo?” he asked, cocking his head.
“Okay, Guns, you stay here out of sight. I'm going to do a few fly overs. I’ll call if I need you, alright?” Grif asked.
Big Guns nodded. “Got it.”
Grif took to the air towards the castle. Oddly enough, as he rose up he started noticing trails of smoke coming from the courtyard. Craters and burnt areas dotted the space. Shawn sat on one of the steps near the entrance to the castle looking out towards the closed gates.
Against his better judgement, Grif dropped altitude. Changing in a flash of light a few feet above the ground, he landed with a flip, one sword already out. “Shawn,” Taze said. “What happened here?”
Shawn smiled, his red eyes pulsing in time with the purple crystal and veins. “Celestia and Pensword wanted to spar, so I sparred with them a bit.” He stood up.
“A quick fight,” whispers followed behind.
“But, now that you’re here… I need you to do something for me,” Shawn finished.
“And that is?” Taze held the blade forward, unswerving. “You know as well as I do I can't spar with these swords.”
Shawn strode towards the entrance and walked inside only to walk out a moment later, two individuals on his shoulders.
“Take them to a hospital or something… I don’t think they were ready for the match,” he said, throwing Celestia and Pensword towards Taze, both landing in front of him with a dull thud. Celestia’s armor was warped, bent, and torn at various places as scorch marks shaped like fists revealed the points of impact. A crumpled piece of metal bounced next to them, its crossguard barely recognizable. Pensword fared little better. His wingblades looked more like a snake about to shed its skin, its interlocking feathers now but a few. The rest had likely been torn from their mounts, or worse yet, vaporized in a blast of heat.
“Auferet eos.”
“I’ll do that, but you go back inside first,” Taze said, keeping the blade pointed. “Besides, you probably have a lot of work to do.”
Shawn rolled his eyes. “I’ve done enough paperwork to last a lifetime. I’m going to be heading to Canterlot in the next couple days and I plan on doing something with those nobles…” He grinned malevolently. “Who knows, perhaps I can set them right.”
“Ad esse rid eorum.”
“Yeah, well we can discuss that later. Go now. I can’t match you in magic, but we both know a dance with weapons is a different story.” Taze’s face never left shawn’s.
Shawn reached a hand out to his side, energy flowing as it solidified itself into metal, an average longsword forming and gleaming in the sun. He grasped its hilt as it finished and turned it over a few times before looking at Grif. “Perhaps another time,” he said, dropping the sword to the ground with disinterest. “I have more important things to do.”
“Then I suggest you do them,” Taze said.
“You don’t give the orders around here. Don’t you dare forget that.” Shawn’s brows lowered before he turned back towards the entrance and walked inside once more.
“And you don’t treat people like dirt. Seems change is contagious,” Taze said with a glare.
“Pugnam eum. Percutite eum!” The voices called out around them as Shawn stopped in his tracks and gave a small twitch. His hands curled into fists before he exhaled loudly and continued walking inside.
Taze sheathed his sword before shifting back to Grif. He lit the end of an arrow and fired it over the wall, waiting for Big Guns to confirm he was outside. An answering bull bellow echoed across the old castle ruins, which had now practically become new ruins in the wake of the last battle.
Grif moved to Celestia. His first attempt to lift her proved him unprepared for her weight. “Lay off the Faust damned cake, Celestia,” he groaned as he tried again, managing to take the alicorn’s weight with a strain he flew up over the wall before landing outside. “Guns, take her and get her to Ponyville Hospital,” he said, bending for the bull to take his burden.
“You got it. Big Guns’ll get started right away.” The minotaur was able to bear the pony’s weight a little more effectively as he draped Celestia’s limp form over his shoulders in a fireman’s carry. The red root-like protrusions grew out to wrap around her form, securing her in place. “Huh, neat trick.” Big Guns smirked before he started charging down the forest path. “See you there, Grif,” he called back.
Grif took to the air again and flew over the wall, scooping up Pensword with alot more ease. “You got some explaining to do when you wake up, buddy.” Grif looked back to the castle. “And we are in need of a miracle.” With those words he headed back towards Ponyville.
Conor screamed in his dream, fear gnawing at his every fiber. He didn’t want to be evil, and he sure as Tartarus didn’t want to be petrified for all eternity like an insect in amber. Just as he thought all hope to be gone and his vision went dark, he heard a metallic clicking sound followed by a crack. The whispers grew more urgent, panicked even, as they muttered darkly. Then, with the sound of crashing glass, they shrieked and were gone as Conor’s prison broke into bits before flying away in a whisp of smoke. Cracks of light gutted the cave, spidering around and around until everything shattered. A blank white expanse now met his vision. On the edge the shadows had mixed with the purple now and flared angrily in the light.
“Be gone,” a voice echoed … well, not exactly. It was difficult for Conor to describe. It seemed almost like a voice and many voices all in one, but it wasn’t. It sounded feminine, yet it sounded like him. Kindof like how he felt when he got those weird premonitions from time to time. The darkness hissed as the shadows recoiled.
“It is ours,” a voice hissed in a tone that starkly reminded Conor of the character Smeagol from the Lord of the Rings films.
“You have no right. You have no claim.”
“Nor do you,” the flame-like thing spat.
“He has chosen a different path. You cannot sway him. You have no right.”
The creature lunged forward, only for a flash of light to push it back. It snarled in frustration. “The boy will make his choice. You will not interfere with the balance,” the voice echoed, reverberating through Conor as well as the creature.
“Give it to us,” it whined. “Let us have him. We’re so weak.”
“You lie, as is your purpose and your want. Be gone. He is under my protection and my power shall guide him. The balance will be maintained. Tell that to your master.”
The creature, or whatever it was, let out a gurgling roar of rage as it lunged for the human. Conor flinched, closing his eyes as the vision of light flickered for a moment. The thing laughed in triumph, pulsing purple and black like an angry bruise. “Your power is weakening, Binder. And we claim our prize. You are ours!” the chorus of voices said, returning in a triumphant howl of victorious laughter. Then the light flashed once more, bright as the sun as the white light split into a kaleidoscope of color.
“I rebuke thee, foul creature of chaos. Thy time of reign is come already and must needs end that the cycle may continue unbroken. Thou hast claimed thy champion. Thou shalt not claim another. Be gone!” The creature cried out in pain as it slowly shrank, its vaporous form compounding into a tiny wisp of darkness which faded from sight. As the light enveloped Conor, he sighed, feeling a warmth and peace he had not felt in what seemed like ages. He closed his eyes.
“I await thee, child from another world. Follow the messenger with the twin flames. He is an errant child, liable to much mischief, but he is loyal and true in heart. Follow him quickly, for time is not on thy side. Hurry, child. Fly to me with all haste,” the voice said, fading as the colors began to die.
“Wait, who are you?” Conor cried.
“Fly …”
“Wait!” Conor jerked upright in bed, well as upright as he could manage as he landed violently in his pillows again. Checking his surroundings, he noticed the restraints and the large set of hospital gown cloths that had been thrown over his body. “... Ow,” he said.
“My stars, Doctor, he’s awake!” Nurse Redheart exclaimed. Sylvio bit the restraints, chewing in an attempt to break them.
“What’s going on?” Conor asked, confused at his surroundings. “Where am I?”
“Ponyville Hospital,” Doctor strange said as he stepped cautiously forward. “You collapsed on your way to the town borders. Tall Oak and Little Willow came to check you in. And then this monstrosity here came bounding in shortly after you were hooked up. He hasn’t let us take so much as a single step near you since.”
“That ‘monstrosity’ seems to have accomplished more than you have, doctor,” A familiar voice spoke from the door as Sylvio’s ears perked up in excitement. His owner had returned. Grif looked to Nurse Redheart with a serious expression. “Redheart, we got an emergency here and another on the way,” he said as he lay Pensword down on a empty bed.
“Oh dear,” She said, rushing to the prone Pegasus as she began running the initial diagnostics, probing for broken bones, taking pulse, etc. “What happened?” she asked.
“The Commander-” Red Heart flinched. Pensword’s friends only used the title when they were angry. “-And princess celestia decided to ‘spar’ with lord shawn. Big guns is on his way with the princess. He’ll be as discreet as he can, but you're going to need a private room for her.”
“The Princess?” Doctor Strange scoffed.
“Yes,” Grif said. “The princess and the commander made a stupid choice, and now they both are lucky to still be breathing. Please keep up, doctor. I need to go inform Pensword’s wife of what’s happened. Lose those restraints, but if any of you so much as lift a finger against Sylvio, I won't be held responsible for the consequences and neither will he.” Grif left the room followed by a stiff breeze.
Lunar fang heard Grif before she saw him. The sound of the air blowing through the hallway was unmistakable as the black and green gryphon opened the door. “You're going to kill him, and Celestia. Then we're going to Tartarus to find them so I can kill them each again,” he growled.
Lunar Fang turned from where she was nailing a board to cover a window. “Is that before I get to smack your wolf to bits, or after?” She replied with a glare before it turned to worry. “What did he do?” She paused as she finally processed the other information. “Wait, Princess Celestia? What happened?” Her face creased with worry.
“They decided to go confront Shawn by themselves. No backup, no warning. I went to do some scouting and found them both unconscious and severely beaten. You remember Celestia’s nigh indestructible sword?” Grif asked as he pulled a long, bent, twisted and dented piece of metal out for her view. “Think about what he did to their bodies.”
“He was toying with them,” She replied as she stepped forward, her world shaken at seeing the blade. “What…? Will Celestia have to purge that place with solar fire? If he can do that to her blade, what will he do to the guards if they try to stop him? Or Ponyville?” She looked at Grif. “What has taken Shawn to cause my life mate to risk losing his family for need to stall?” She was smart and she knew her husband was smart. “What are they delaying for?”
“Even so, they played their cards too soon. He wasn't planning to leave for another two days. All they did was annoy him and take both of them off the board.” Grif looked at her. “Which means I need you with me on this. There is no way I can organize everything alone. I know this is a lot to ask, but I need you on duty until we figure this out.”
Lunar Fang slowly nodded her head as she walked towards a closet where her armor was stored. She paused as she gazed at the mounts. Something had caught her eye. “He didn’t use the wedding blades,” She whispered her eyes watering. She sniffed once before moving to place armor on her body.
“He’s going to be fine, Lunar Fang. You'll just have to tie him down for a while,” Grif said. “I promise you we’ll get this sorted out.”
She chuckled. “Oh, I have ways to tie him down without the rope.” She smiled as she swayed her hips. “Also, I think Fox Feather was looking forward to meeting Moon River. We’ll just have to hasten that meeting a little.” She finished tying on her helmet before turning to her daughter as she knelt down on her forelegs. “Now Moony, Mommy is going to have to fight.” She nuzzled her daughter, who cooed and looked completely at ease seeing her mommy in what some might call frightening armor. “So be nice and don’t get in trouble with Fox Feather, okay?”
Moon River smiled as Fox Feather walked into the room and paused. “Uh, this a bad time?” Fox Feather turned to go only to have Lunar Fang stop her with a leathery wing.
“No. Look, the Commander and Princess Celestia were operating based on how Sombra would have acted. Currently we got intel stating we have two days before the thing that drove Grif and Pensword scared will move from the castle. I need you to keep this quiet. Both Pensword and Celestia are knocked out from their attack, but-” She turned to Grif. “What intel did you get? You said that thing is moving out in two days. Did it say where?”
“He’s planning to invade Canterlot,” Grif said gravely.
Lunar Fang froze and so did Fox Feather. Lunar Fang looked back at Grif. “Grif, that news there...” She breathed out slowly. “Then losing two pieces was worth it.” Her voice choked. “They might be knocked out, but Canterlot? No, we have to stop this menace before it can move.” She looked to Grif. “As the Acting Commander those are my words. As his wife-” She looked to Moon River. “How I feel would be unfit for her ears. However, I will say this much. When he gets home from the hospital, he’s going to be sleeping on a cloud for a week.”
“Okay. Come on, we need to go see when Conor is getting out of the hospital. And then we need to talk to Luna. Quite possibly we may need to practice a bit. If we need to fight Shawn on even ground it’s going to take all three of us,” Grif said. “And no holding back.”
“Even ground? Oh, I have no plans on making this a fair fight. We push every single advantage we have. You go see your friend. I am going to see my husband and make sure he is stable.” She sighed. “I sometimes wish he was still on those blood thinners. He didn’t take these kind of risks when he was first in Equestria.” She looked to Fox Feather. “I leave Moon River in your care. Be safe and keep her safe.”
Fox Feather saluted in the affirmative as the two left.
Conor looked at himself in the mirror one more time, shifting his head for a better vantage point before running his hand through his hair again.
“How is this possible?” he asked. “I’m supposed to be balding. My hair stopped growing up there ages ago.”
“The way things are going, that’s the least of your worries,” Doctor Strange said as he placed yet another Archanoscan on the backlight. “For the last several weeks you’ve been growing what appears to be a solid mass of alichorn just above your gabella.”
“And that is … what exactly?”
“The substance which all unicorn horns are made from. It’s a natural way for us to conduct magical energies. We’re not sure how, but it seems that your body is absorbing and converting magical energies into physical manifestations, including your hair growing back and the mass you see growing in the scan. I believe your human doctors would call this a type of tumor. It certainly explains the headaches you’ve been suffering and the strain your body has been going through. Beneath that alichorn, your body has been forming what is called a carbuncle: a bundle of nerves that connects the horn to the brain, and thus,the ambient magic that exists throughout Equestria. I’d like to keep you here over the next few days for further study. This is by far one of the strangest cases I’ve faced in my entire career.”
“Wait a second. A tumor?” Conor jerked away from the mirror. “You’re telling me that my body is growing a mass in my head, here,” he said, jabbing his forehead and wincing. “And that it could potentially kill me?”
Doctor Strange snorted derisively. “Alichorn doesn’t kill. It’s merely the substance that acts as a conduit for magic. If anything, should the mass continue its rate of growth, you’ll find yourself sporting a lovely horn. In theory, once the horn finishes growing you would be capable of using magic just like any other pony. We took the liberty of performing a biopsy while you were out. The alichorn your body seems to be producing is a very high grade and there appear to be absolutely no signs of rejection.”
“And that’s supposed to make me feel better how, exactly?”
“It means you aren’t dying and there’s not anything really medically wrong with you. Your body just seems to be going through some changes. Call it a second puberty if you will.”
“And just how far are these ‘changes’ going to go? I can’t exactly go back home sporting a horn. It’d turn more than just a couple of heads.”
“Completely,” a familiar voice spoke up from the doorway.
“Twilight? Twilight Sparkle?” Conor asked as he turned to the purple unicorn. “Wow, I was wondering when I’d get to meet you. But um … what did you mean by completely? Were you talking about my heads comment or the former?”
Twilight rubbed one foreleg against the other. “The former, actually. It’s my theory that these changes will go on until there’s nothing left but an Equestrian unicorn,” she declared as she walked into the room. “I’m sorry it took so long, Doctor. We were in the Crystal Empire when your message arrived.”
“Thank you so much for coming all the same. I figured if anyone would have an idea about strange magics, it would be you,” Doctor Strange said, nodding in approval. “If what you say is true, we should keep him here under close observation. Just in case anything goes wrong.”
“Excuse me? You just told me I’m basically going to change species against my will, permanently, and all you can think to say is you want to keep me under observation while I go through it?”
“Do you have a better suggestion, Conor? We don’t know how to reverse this. The most we can do is try to keep you comfortable as you transition,” Twilight said. “I’m sorry. I really am. If I had a little more knowledge about how the transition between worlds works, I’d suggest an alternative, but as of right now, all we can do is wait.”
“Then why didn’t this happen to the others? And why’d this start happening to me now? I’ve been here long enough,” Conor demanded.
“According to the notes shawn translated, the thaumaturgic field does everything to preserve the well being of the being it surrounds-”
“Woah woah woah woah, the thaumaturgic what?” Conor asked, his hands raised in a slowing motion.
“Shawn didn't explain it to you?” Twilight asked.
“No, he didn’t. What’s a thaumaturgic field and what does it have to do with all of this?”
“You were pulled through to Equestria by Discord. Shawn, Taze, and Matthew fell through a tear between worlds,” Twilight explained. “When they did, they were exposed to a specific kind of magical energy that surrounded them and created a sort of field, or barrier. This field protects and heals them from damages both physical and magical in nature. Theoretically, that would mean that it prevented these changes from happening.”
“And since I don’t have this field, Shawn figured it wasn’t important to mention.” Conor sighed as he sat down on his bed. Sylvio whined, his ears laid back. “How long do I have?”
“I’m ... not sure,” Twilight said. “Going over the data, I think it might be that Equestria is trying to correct what it sees as an anomaly.”
“Well I guess your world has that right. I certainly am an anomaly. After all, Discord himself brought me in.” Conor laughed hollowly.
“And that's why I think this didn't happen sooner,” Twilight said as she lay a comforting hoof on the human’s leg. “Discord’s magic was messing with things to keep you unaffected, but even chaos magic can only last for so long. I've contacted Princess Luna about modifying the disguise spell she used for the others in order to give you a way to hide, so to speak. But I have no idea how to halt the process itself.”
“Shawn and the others are going to kill us,” he muttered. “Assuming we can even save Shawn.”
“To assume makes an ass out of U and ME,” Grif`s voice carried as he and Lunar Fang entered the room. “And we will save him. Nice hair, by the way. Didn’t know they’d developed a cure for baldness here.”
“Yeah. Let’s just say that’s not all I’m gonna be growing over the next couple of days,” Conor said.
“Well there’s more bad news. When we confront shawn it's going to be without the help of Pensword or Princess Celestia,” Grif said.
“What happened to the princess?” Twilight asked with worry.
“She and Pensword went to challenge shawn alone. When they wake up, they’re going to be very, very sore.”
“Well, now that the six of us are back we can get the elements and fix Lord Shawn,” twilight noted.
“Yeah... “ Grif started
“No,” Lunar Fang finished, shaking her head. “Not while he’s at full strength anyway. He'd likely have all of you unconscious before you had a chance to get in position.”
This started Twilight, Grif, and Lunar fang on a heated debate over the strategic value of the elements when Conor felt something tugging at the sleeve of his hospital gown. Looking down, Sylvio stared up at him, wagged his tail, then started to pull harder as he backed away.
“Sylvio, stop it. I’m not decent,” Conor said.
“The fruit will not be enough. You must possess the source.” The voice was quiet and seemed to echo in Conor’s head. He shook his head, looking about the room to see if anyone else had heard. Then it came again.
“We need to go while the white one is still strong.” Sylvio tugged again and whined. Conor looked down at the wolf even as he stared up in turn with his burning blue eyes.
“... The messenger with the twin flames …” Conor mumbled, his brows scrunching together. “You?” he asked
“Please!” the wolf’s eyes somehow looked sad despite the fact that they lacked any emotionally defining properties “We must help alpha before the darkness consumes his friend too much.”
“Conor? Everything ok? You're talking to Sylvio like he’s talking back,” Grif noted, having halted the argument with two extended hands.
“I … think he is, Grif,” Conor said uncertainly. His hospital gown tore in the timberwolf’s jaws as he yanked just a little too hard. “He wants me to follow him.”
“Well, why not just follow him then? It wouldn’t get any more bizarre,” Lunar Fang muttered, having done her best to tune out the fact that the human in the room was slowly turning into a Unicorn. She paused. “Twilight,” she asked sweetly. “Can you ... see what the others would have become if it was not for the magic field?” A sly twinkle shone in her eyes. “Something to start while you wait for us to deem it safe to use the Elements? As a personal favor to me.”
“I can, but that research would take too much time to even begin until this crisis is over.”
Grif looked at Conor. “A lot of disasters could have been avoided if more people had just listened to a dog.” He sighed. “Doctor, get him his clothes.”
Dr.Strange glared. “Now see here. I am the doctor and I said he stays for observation.”
“You may be the doctor, but I’m the patient. You said I was medically fine, right?” Conor asked.
“Yes, but-”
“Then I want to check out of this hospital right now. You have no right to keep me here since you’ve deemed me perfectly healthy. And if you try to stop us, I’m sure Sylvio and Grif will be more than happy enough to convince you otherwise.”
“Redheart, if you would?” Grif said with a nod.
The nurse nodded in return, running off and coming back with a bag. She then offered it to Conor.
“I’ll be in the lobby,” Grif told Conor. “Meet me there when you’re done. Come on, Sylvio.” The dog whimpered for a moment but followed his owner with Lunar Fang in tow.
Moving as quickly as he was able, Conor donned the clothing, gritting his teeth as he felt a familiar tug of fabric against coarse hair. He stubbornly set his jaw and shoved his personal concerns away for now. There were bigger things to worry about.
“You aren’t seriously thinking of leaving are you?” Doctor Strange asked.
“Yes, Doctor, I am. If there’s even the slightest chance of finding a way to save Shawn, I’m taking it.”
“But following a Timber Wolf? They’re one of the most dangerous animals in the Everfree.”
Conor shrugged. “Sylvio’s different. And if he is dangerous, then so much the better. He’ll be able to help keep me safe.” He slipped on his socks and tied up his shoes.
“You’re sure you won’t reconsider?”
“Doctor, these are my friends. I’m scared to death about all this, especially since I have absolutely no military training to speak of, let alone fighting. But they need me. If there’s any way that I can help them, I’m going to do it. I don’t know how friendship works for you here, but to me, my friends are family. And that means I have to do all I can to help them.” He stood and began walking to the door, then turned back with a wry smile. “Just look at it this way. In all likelihood, I’ll probably wind up back here again once this is all over. So you’ll still get your favorite patient.”
Doctor Strange’s mouth hung open.
“Goodbye, Doctor Strange. See you later.” With that, Conor left, walking with a deliberate pace to the hospital checkout desk. Grif and Sylvio were waiting for him. Lunar fang was hovering anxiously.
“Do you seriously believe me, or do you just not like doctors that much?” Conor asked, cocking an eyebrow.
“I have seen a lot of weird things since we got here,” Grif said. “But only an idiot doubts his dog.” He scratched behind Sylvio’s ears gently, the Timber Wolf panting happily.
“That wouldn’t happen to have anything to do with Old Yeller would it?”
“Not everything has to do with a movie,” Grif said. “I had a dog back home. She was a close friend for 14 years. I learned a thing or two from that dog.”
“Nuff said,” Conor replied as he turned to face the wooden wolf. “Alright, Sylvio. Where to now?”
“Lunar fang, get Luna. Tell her to meet us at Zecora’s hut. Hopefully we should be back by nightfall. It’s a full moon tonight so it may be our best chance.”
Lunar Fang looked to Grif and huffed in annoyance. “I shall. But if you go and do something insane like you always do, I will be sorely vexed.” She turned and quickly galloped away to the Fort to contact Princess Luna.
Grif smiled as she receded into the distance. “Good. Now we don’t have to worry about any issues with her. I get the feeling this one needs to just between the three of us.” He turned to his Timber Wolf. “Go on, Sylvio. Show us what you know.”
With a yip the white wood wolf leapt out the doors and began heading off towards the Everfree.
“By the time Grif and Conor return we’ll have this all sorted out.” Twilight smiled as she pressed boldly onwards, her tiara firmly set.
“Twilight, dear, are you sure this is absolutely necessary? I mean, we don’t even know if the elements will work on corruption. We never used them when we had to deal with Sombra,” Rarity said.
“Well I don’t care,” Rainbow Dash spoke as she flew over their heads. “If we’re gonna go and be awesome, I say we do it.”
“I don’t know, Twi,” Applejack started. “It feels wrong going round our friends’ backs like some two bit snake oil salespony: Saying one thing and going to do another.”
“I think Applejack has a point,” Fluttershy meekly whispered. “I mean, if it scared out all the ponies working at New Unity, it must be something pretty frightening.”
“And we’ll just kick its sorry flank, use the Elements of Harmony, purify the monster, and Princess Luna will have another friend,” Rainbow Dash responded swooping down and giving Fluttershy a hug. “So, Twilight, who are we facing anyway?”
“Lord Shawn’s been possessed by the same dark magic that King Sombra used.”
“Now hold on just one minute, Sugarcube. You saying that Sombra’s causing problems again?”
“No.” Twilight shook her head. “Sombra’s gone, but the dark magic he used is very powerful. It can corrupt the mind easily.”
“They why in all of Equestria are we going to try to face it? As I recall, a certain chaos spirit was able to change our minds no problem when we faced him before. How are we to stand against dark magic if we can’t even stand against chaos magic?” Rarity asked.
“Are you kidding? Twilight came through for us and we beat Discord. We know what to expect from the Crystal Empire. We won’t be caught surprised. We’ll beat this thing and get Shawn back. You wait and see.” Rainbow Dash looked at the others. “What? He told me to call him Shawn.”
Pinkie hopped into the middle of the group. “Sorry, girls. I just wanted to pack some cupcakes for when the big surprises happen. And to help cheer all of us up after.” She looked at the sky with a smirk. “Still, it is crazy all this is going on.” She took a deep breath and before any of her friends could stop she went on one of her single breath exclamations. “From Pensword and Princess Celestia fighting Shawn and getting into the hospital to Conor finding out he’s going to be a unicorn if he doesn’t find a way to stop it and now he’s getting some of his special talent with talking with Grif’s wolf, and-”
“PINKIE!” Twilight shouted, halting the bullet train monologue in its tracks. “How do you know that?”
“Know what?” Pinkie asked cheerfully.
“That-” Twilight face hoofed. “Never mind. It’ll be more confusing trying this conversation, and more than likely fruitless.”
The others laughed a little, soon to be joined by Twilight as she began to feel better. “But seriously, be on your guard, girls. The bridge is coming up.”
“I’m so glad they built this road in the forest,” Fluttershy began. “However, I think they’ll have to see about reworking it again. There are already small sprouts forming in the road.”
Applejack paused and looked at one of them. “Eeyup, just like the rest of the trees.” She shook her head. “We should get this path trampled a little more, or maybe covered in cobblestone.”
The six ponies soon came to the imposing gates, a solid wall of stone preventing entry … or exit. With a purple flash, Twilight ported herself and her friends into the courtyard, looking around nervously. “Lord Shawn, are you in here?”
“At least someone remembers the title.” Shawn said, walking into the courtyard from the front door.
“Aliquis recordatur.” The voices echoed after.
“Ohhh.” Pinkie began. “I love the echoes, how did you do it?” She asked appearing right in his face as she tilted her head to the side. “That’d be such a cool Nightmare Night prank to pull with Princess Luna. Can you do anything else? Turn into Smoke? Oh! How about crazy moves? Turn into bats?” Pinkie was suddenly cut off as she got yanked back by Twilight’s magic.
“Pinkie, please, don’t irritate Lord Shawn.” Twilight said hastily.
“Really? He looks more confused than irritated. No, wait, you’re right. He’s getting irritated,” Pinkie replied, her ears going flat against her head as she pouted. “You used to like my doing that.”
“I’d prefer you keep your distance,” Shawn said, dusting off his vest. “Now, what are you all doing here?”
Twilight stood forward. “We’re here to help.”
Shawn scoffed at the statement. “Help with what, exactly? Taking more of my research?”
“Opus meum?”
“Okay, first of all, you gave that research willingly. Secondly, I’m talking about that!” Twilight gesticulated to the dark crystals and veins pulsing in time to Shawn’s heartbeat. “I mean, look at you! This can’t be healthy.”
“I’m just as fit as ever, I’ll have you know,” Shawn said, glancing at the crystals on his arm before turning his attention back to them. “And I do not need help with these. All you would do is just screw it up, just like you planned on doing.”
“Proditores!” Shawn gave a small twitch with the word.
“The only thing we’d be ‘screwing up’ is whatever it is that’s controlling you. Girls, positions!” The ponies darted around the lord, arranging themselves into a circle.
“You’re just like the rest of them.” He gave a dark grin. “Go on and try.”
The rainbow chain began to form as each element glowed upon its bearer, weaving in the harmony of their friendship as they recalled all of their memories of the Shawn then knew and loved. The ribbon swirled round and round until it gathered into Twilight’s crown. Then she opened her eyes, smiling as the rainbow magic burst forth, her body surrounded in a white glow that shone from her eyes and mouth, radiating like a beacon as it bore down on the corrupted human.
High Chieftess Luna stalked the halls of Canterlot in her Ursa Major armor while the Lunar Guard stood protectively around her. She was rapidly writing messages on parchments before rolling them up and teleporting them away.
“How can this evil still persist? Shall we never be done with it?” She asked facing one of her guard Thestrals. “First Sombra, then I, then Sombra again, and now our teacher is being corrupted and our sister foolishly went after him. While it pleases me that she has taken to the blade again, she was not ready to face our teacher.”
“Oh, Lulu, something got you down?” a familiar voice asked.
“Discord! You…” Luna yelled before stopping and slowly smiled. “Discord, my sister tells me thou art reformed. We are loath to ask you, but we need thine help with a problem.”
“Oh?” Discord gasped over dramatically. “A problem your great and powerful elements can’t solve?” he asked, running a finger up her chin.
Luna’s left eye twitched while a wing moved to hold her guards at bay. “Yes, Discord. Unlike my sister, we prefer to have more than one plan in the basket. We need your help to contain a nightmare before it decides to come to Canterlot and play games with the nobility.”
Discord appeared in midair sipping a cup of tea. “And what, May I ask, is the name of this nightmare?” he asked pulling off his mane and using it to shine his hoof.
“Our teacher, Hammer Strike,” Luna replied, her expression flat.
Discord dropped his mane, the hair shattering like fine china as his eyes widened and contracted respectively. “Nope, not happening,” he said as his mane poofed back into existence. Conjuring up a suitcase he began packing bunches of oddly coloured boxer shorts.
“The Spirit of Chaos running?” Luna spoke in a mix of real and fake shock. “What has the world come to? What could possibly have gotten you so scared of him? You never met him more than a few minutes.”
“In those few minutes he managed to remove some energy from me. Permanently! I simply can’t take the risk, Lulu. Soooo sorry,” he said opening an umbrella and starting to float away. “Arrivederci.”
Luna looked at Discord as he floated out the window. “I have seen everything this day,” She said, stunned. She paused as a scroll appeared in front of her. She took it in her magic before it could fall to the ground and she laughed. “Guards, prepare to march on New Unity. We have been asked to join Grif and Lunar Fang in another planned assault. Huzzah!” She yelled as she moved towards the sky chariots. “Come. We ride!”
Grif and Conor trekked silently behind the timber wolf as he snuffled along the trail, weaving in and out of trees on barely discernible paths. The dark trees seemed almost to glare as their branches reached low toward the party of adventurers. Conor occasionally scratched at his arms as they walked along through the mists.
“So uh … how much further do we have to go before we reach this … white one, you called it?” Conor asked the wolf.
“The white one hides before the den of the sun and moon now empty after the eclipse,” the wolf responded.
“Hold it, you’re telling me we have to go practically to Shawn’s doorstep to meet this person? Won’t he sense us coming?”
“The white one is old. Too old. The corruption is not yet strong enough to find the white one,” the wolf responded.
“And I’m guessing neither could anypony else?” Conor shook his head. “Great, now I’m talking more like one too.” He sighed. “Normally I wouldn’t view this as such a bad thing if I weren’t slowly turning into a pony.”
“Try living as one for twenty years then finding out you weren't one to begin with,” Grif said. “It’s much more of a jar….” He stopped suddenly, drawing his blades with blazing speed as he sniffed the air. Sylvio began to growl at the forest around them. “Timber Wolves.”
“And not the friendly kind, I’m guessing?” Conor asked.
“Sylvio is the exception, not the rule.” Grif said
“They have fed on the black roots,” Sylvio added cryptically.
In an instant a huge bark covered wolf hopped out of the bush at Conor’s direction. Grif struck without a second thought and Conor got a first hand show as the wolf's body shredded to pieces as it flew towards him. “Sylvio, get him to wherever. I can handle this.”
“But-”
“Go, Omni!” Grif roared. Startled, Conor started to run as Sylvio darted through the trees and brush. Back in the distance, he could hear the sound of battle as Grif issued a loud cry. Multiple growls, yips, and snarls carried on the wind until the distance grew great enough for them to fade.
“Where to now, Sylvio?” Conor asked as a green mist rose around their ankles.
“Follow. Alpha will kill them. You follow,” Sylvio said as he bounded along a faded trail. The albino timberwolf shone like a beacon in the sickly mist as Conor raced after him. He jerked to a stop as a large ravine gaped in front of him. On the other side of the gorge, he could just make out the castle of New Unity. He pinwheeled his arms, doing his best not to fall, but the momentum was too much. Time seemed to slow as he gradually fell forward.
“Sylvio!” he cried.
The wolf bit the waistband of the human’s pants just in time and pulled him back.
Breathing deeply, Conor exclaimed. “That was too close. Thanks for the save.”
Then the timberwolf stepped over the edge and into the mist.
“Oh, you have got to be kidding me,” Conor said as he cautiously followed. The mist seemed to change here as sickly green met with a billowing greyish white. As Conor took his first probing step, he felt solid rock. Tapping harder, a brief echo answered back. It was solid. Breathing a sigh of relief he slowly walked downward, step by step as the mists and dangers of the Everfree fell far behind. “The white one’s been using a distractor spell, hasn’t she?” he asked as he looked back on the broad flight of steps and the lip of the chasm. “There’s no way someone wouldn’t notice the way down here otherwise.”
“This pup was pushed into the mist by his little brothers. This pup was scared and alone and followed the stars. The white one comforted this one. The white one gave this one the white wood. The white wood made this pup strong, made this pup feel good. This pup searched for his mother, but when he found her he was attacked. This pup would have died if not for alpha,” Sylvio said as he led Conor down the stairs.
“That’s horrible.” Conor reached out and ran his hand down the wolf’s head and neck as they continued to walk. It was sort of a reflex with him by now. He may not have been able to always help out with what people needed, but he sure knew how to show love and compassion.
“This pup was found by alpha. Alpha took him to the healer. Then alpha made this pup his packmate. This pup needs to help Alpha,” Sylvio said. “You are also part of Alpha’s pack. So this one can trust you to help Alpha.”
“I’m glad one of us can. I’m not really of much use in a fight. I can’t stand the thought of hurting someone else.” Conor sighed. “You could say it’s one of my biggest strengths and biggest weaknesses.”
All further conversation stopped as they stepped into a cave at the end of the stairwell. An incredible feeling of immense calm and peace overtook both man and wolf as Sylvio led him through its gaping mouth. A small glimmer shone in the darkness as they approached before lighting up to reveal one of the most breathtaking sights Conor had ever seen. A large crystalline tree with long branches that reached to the roof of the cave and even longer roots that spidered out across and under the floor stood grandiosely, its crystal fronds waving gently in the draft like wind chimes. Five empty gem shaped holes stood on the branches while the trunk seemed to have some sort of locked star shape knothole. Below it, growing into the wood were the images of two incredibly familiar cutie marks.
“... What is this place?” Conor asked.
Welcome, Conor, a serene and familiar feminine voice spoke. I am harmony.
“Okay, I know you were in my head earlier, so I guess I shouldn’t be too surprised that you know my name. Um … it’s nice to meet you, but uh … where are you?”
Right in front of you, the voice spoke back.
“Where? I can’t see you. Are you supposed to be a spirit of some kind?”
You are looking right at me, the voice said.
The comment Sylvio made about fruit and it not being enough came back to him as he looked at the sconces in the tree once more. “Waaiit a minute,” he said. “Harmony? As in the elements of harmony?”
They are my fruits, my children. I do so miss their company. The tree’s voice had a sad tone to it.
“Alright, so you’re a sentient tree. I’ve heard of weirder things.” Conor shrugged. “One thing I always believed is that everything has an intelligence. Yours must just be really advanced to be able to reach out to my mind. Oh, by the way, thanks for saving me before.”
I regret to say I have only partially saved you, the tree said. Chaos is too much a part of you to be cleansed fully. But I will also make harmony a part of you. Thus the balance may be maintained and you will be free to choose your own fate.
Conor shuddered. “Thank you. I’d rather not go through … what Shawn is right now.” His face fell. “You said something about saving him, right?”
You must purge him, the tree said. The branches shook and something glinted as it broke away and landed on the ground, ringing with the musical note of pure crystal. The crystal in question sat glinting white in front of Conor, nearly a foot long, its cylindrical shape tapering to a lethal looking point as it glowed with little pinpricks of light like stars swirling inside the mass.
“... Please don’t tell me I have to kill him,” he said as he picked it up like he would a live snake.
Have faith! He will survive. But to be saved he must be destroyed, the tree warned. The magic will leave his body without discrimination. He will be very weakened from the experience.
“For how long?” Conor asked as he drew closer to the tree, laying a hand on its trunk. He closed his eyes as a brief tingling sensation ran across his palm. The wood was smooth as can be, almost gemlike in its quality of cut. “And sorry, but this has been eating at me for a while now. How is it that I can hear you anyways, but nobody else can?”
When the young one’s sap came into contact with your alichorn, a bond was formed with you and him. And thus, through him, you were connected to me, She explained as the feeling moved into his fingers and across his body until his whole frame tingled. The crystal in his hand pulsed and flared as it grew steadily brighter before tapering off and becoming completely clear. Looking down, Conor could just make out a tiny concentrated pinprick of light deep within the crystal, biding its time like a turtle in its shell. The tree shuddered, its wind chime crystals clinking madly.
“Are you alright?” Conor asked, concerned.
I will be fine. This is more important. Take the crystal and go to the Zebrican’s home. She will be expecting you, as will your friends and allies. I have but one request.
“Yes?”
Tell no one of what you have seen and experienced here. No Pony, Gryphon, animal, or human can know of my existence.
“Not even my friends?”
Not even they. You know of me and have heard my purpose. I must preserve the balance. Now you must also by keeping my secret safe. Can I trust you?
Conor sighed heavily. “It’s going to be difficult to explain this without telling at least a little bit,” he said, running his hand up and down an arm absently.
Sylvio is a good judge of character despite his youth. Ask him and he will direct you aright. But know this. Those with whom you share this secret must take it to their graves.
“I understand. Thank you, Harmony. I’ll do my best.” With that, Conor turned to leave. “Sylvio, let’s go. We have a friend to save.” As the two left the cave and started up the stairs, they turned back one final time to glimpse the beauty that was the tree of harmony, the great keeper of balance. Conor gave a last distant salute before the pair rose back into the chaos that was the Everfree Forest.
The flash of rainbow light slowly died as the ponies lowered to the ground. What rainbow energy remained seemed to almost writhe as it gradually coalesced into the shadowy hand of a silhouette. As the dust began to settle, Shawn stood there, crushing the ball of light in his fist as the dark mists rose from his smoldering eyes, pulsing in time to his crystals.
“But that’s not possible,” Twilight said moving back slightly.
“Did this go according to your plans?” Shawn questioned.
“Misellus! Vobis omnibus.”
“What did you do?” Rainbow Dash shouted in horror.
“I simply took the energy from the elements and solidified them,” Shawn said, opening his hand to reveal a bright crystal in his hands. “A neat trick… Now, do you want to see one of my tricks?” He grinned.
“Bring it on, Crystal Brain!” Rainbow Dash shouted as she reared in the air.
Twilight paled as she took a step back. “Girls, we should be moving away. What he holds is crystallized aspect of the Elements of Harmony. I don’t know what will happen. But I really don’t want to find out what he could do with it.” Her mind returning to the box Shawn destroyed with the small crystal, a crystal that far smaller than what he now held in his hand.
“Come now, I want to show you all an interesting experiment.” He twitched. “You could have killed me with those elements. You all want me dead, don’t you?” His grin grew.
Twilight glared at Shawn. “The Elements don’t kill, they restore balance. They saved Nightmare Moon, turned Discord into stone and back to flesh. They wouldn’t kill.”
“To do such a thing is to kill me. This power flows through my veins, keeping me alive. And should you attempt to ‘fix’ this....” He shook his head. “You would purge every bit of power in me, thus…” He rolled his hand towards Twilight, wanting her to finish his sentence.
Rainbow Dash answered. “If Twilight says it won’t kill Shawn, it won’t kill him. It might kill you, whatever you are. You’re just using his body for yourself.”
“Rainbow Dash!” Twilight yelled.
“What? You think I didn’t hear you and Spike talking through your window about Nightmare possessions while I was trying to nap?”
Twilight rolled her eyes before facing Shawn, smiling. “What he’s saying is true.” The rest of the mane six gasped. “But Rainbow is right as well. We would only be killing the corruption, not Shawn.”
“None of you are getting it through your thick skulls!” Shawn shouted, the echoes silenced themselves. “I am Shawn! I am myself, my actions, my drive, everything I have done.” His grin was gone, his expression was flat. “There is no parasite, there is no being controlling me! If words won’t get through to you…” His hands clenched into fists. “You are leaving me less and less choices…”
“So, what choices are left?” Rainbow Dash asked as she snorted and snapping her wings open to fly in to the air while Fluttershy put a hoof on Rainbow’s side.
“Please, be careful. We shouldn’t antagonize him anymore… maybe we should leave and come back another day?”
“Getting rid of you would be a wonderful option,” Shawn said. “Either by your own means…” He reached out a hand, metal forming over his fingers as a gauntlet covered it. “Or by my own methods.” He grinned. “Perhaps even test a few ideas I had.”
Fluttershy shivered. “I want to go home,” she whispered.
Applejack looked around, unsure what to think. The elements had failed, and as she looked at the battle damaged courtyard, she realized just how strong Shawn must have been. “I have to agree with you, Sugarcube. It might be best to retreat for now.”
“Retreat?” Rainbow Dash asked in anger. “How can we retreat? We always save the day. We can't just stop now.”
Twilight looked at her friends, trying to weigh their options. “No,” she said, her voice dropping. “Applejack is right. We should retreat for now.” She looked to Rainbow Dash. “We have to plan better.”
Rainbow Dash glared at her friends before she turned to face Shawn, locking eyes with him in a test of dominance and daring. “I am not leaving my friend.”
“You want to try something, don’t you?” Shawn grinned. “What will you do? Leave, or go against what they want you to do?”
Rainbow Dash glared at Shawn a few more seconds. Her front left hoof left a groove in the dirt as she pawed. “I’ll be back to beat your sorry tail,” she said with a glare. She turned around. “Come on, Fluttershy, I bet we can do something in Ponyville to cheer you up.”
Shawn chuckled darkly as he shook his head. He kept his eyes on the group, waiting for them to leave. Twilight’s horn lit up and they disappeared in a flash of violet colored light.
“Pathetic,” Shawn said as he turned back towards the entrance. “Perhaps I should speed up my plans…”
Grif looked at the gryphons around him. “Okay, listen up. I don’t have long, but this needs to be said. In a few moments I am heading out to what is likely to be the most dangerous fight I’ve ever picked. It’s entirely possible I won’t make it back alive. So, if something happens to me, I don't want you all breaking up.” Grif looked around the assembled faces, his smirk betraying his pride. “You all are my family and I am proud to share your name. Bring me honor. Bring us honor.” With a solemn nod he turned away in time to notice two approaching figures.
“You’d better not be thinking about doing anything stupid without me!” Conor called out, smiling as he walked triumphantly into the camp with Sylvio at his side.
“Conor, this is a fight, not a storybook thing where everybody lives. You could die!” grif said.
“Yes, I could. But so can my best friends. You think I’m going to just sit back and let you guys endanger yourselves recklessly while I’m stuck on the sidelines? Besides … Sylvio helped me find an antidote.”
“Oh?” Grif asked “What sort of antidote?”
“... This.” Conor gently lifted the crystal up, his hands now rough with stout white fur over them. His nails looked smoother now, and slightly thicker. He grimaced at the sight, but said nothing. “It’s a crystal filled with pure energy. The exact opposite of Shawn’s corruption, right?”
“Okay, so you're holding an incredibly volatile, dangerous bundle of condensed purity aspect. I’ve read Shawn’s notes. He’s shown me first hand what that stuff can do. Are you sure you want to be anywhere near that?”
“I have no idea what it can do. I just know that it’ll work. … Somehow.”
“Which is?” Grif asked.
“... A mutual acquaintance of Sylvio and I said Shawn has to be purged. I assume it has to be done with this crystal. I just don’t know how.”
“When Chaos and Order work together as one, only then can corruption be undone,” Zecora said sagely as she approached from behind. “Where corruption has taken a physical form, there you must strike to restore the norm.”
“So I have to hit Shawn where the crystals on his arm formed?” Conor asked. Zecora nodded sagely.
“So the spirits have told me to say. It is the one and only way.”
“So you wish to not only enter a battle against a master combatant with no previous training,” Luna's voice carried over as she joined the small gathering. “But to get in close enough to stab him? I am not sure if you are brave, stupid, or both.”
“You have a better idea?” Conor asked. “Also, I haven’t tried fighting him. For all I know, he may be neutral enough to let me approach.”
Grif and Luna looked to Lunar Fang for her input.
“While that is an interesting take, and a possibility, I cannot allow that kind of risk,” she stated. “You will be with us. That could automatically declare you to be an enemy. You also mentioned that this crystal-” She moved a wing to point at the thing. “-Is to destroy this corruption. That means if he can sense it, he will go on high alert right away.”
“Then what should we do?” Conor asked, looking into the crystal’s depths. “Too bad I can’t see the future with this,” he said, letting out a hollow laugh.
“It is not good to know one’s own future,” Lunar Fang muttered. “It can lead to overconfidence. I almost fell to it a few times in the Third Gryphon War.”
Grif reached for the crystal. “If anyone’s going to stand so much as a chance of hitting Shawn with this, it’s me. Let me take it.” Conor sighed heavily as he presented it to the Gryphon. As much as he hated to admit it, Grif was right.
Sylvio’s ears pulled back and he whined. “Wait, Grif, don’t!” Conor cried, but it was too late. The crystal flared angrily as the gryphon made contact and a jolt of white light shot into his arm. Grif let loose with an eagle’s cry as he recoiled, holding one taloned hand with the other.
“What the hell was that?” Grif shouted.
“... Sylvio warned me just now. The crystal was a gift given specifically to me. It won’t let anyone else hold it. And … well, it really doesn’t like you for some reason. Sylvio said it had something to do with chaos.”
“So basically we have to take you with us no matter what.” Grif let loose an exasperated sigh, absently rubbing his claws as he tried to restore feeling.
Lunar Fang looked to Princess Luna. “I’ll Watch him,” She offered as she narrowed her eyes at the crystal. “But you better not do anything dumb.”
“Why on earth would I go and do a thing like that?” Conor asked.
She had a flat expression with her eyes showing long suffering. “Because they do it all the time,” she replied pointing at Grif with a wing.
“Ahhhh, so you know my pain.”
“You’ve been here for a few weeks, Conor. You haven't even begun to see the dumb things yet.” Grif chuckled to himself.
“True, but I sure had to deal with enough antics back home before with Matthew and Taze. From what I understand, your personality and Pensword’s are dead ringers with theirs.”
“So we keep hearing.” Grif sighed. “Okay, lets gear up and get this circus on the road. I just hope we don't end up regretting this.”
“You have a plan?” Conor asked.
“We usually do,” Lunar Fang responded.
Luna nodded. “Tis a simple plan. We distract him so you can get that Crystal where it needs to go.”
“So where would I need to be positioned then? I assume I need to hold back until after the battle is engaged, then probably sneak in while his attention’s on you, right?”
“Sneak up on Lord Shawn?” Grif laughed. “You’re going to wait on the wall.”
“I meant hang back and have somepony help me get into my hiding place after the battle is engaged. We don’t want Shawn to know the crystal is there, right?”
“He might even know already,” Grif said. “That thing gives off a pretty strong pulse.”
“... Fair point. I’ll take your word for it. Alright, so just get me in and I make my way up to the top of a wall? Or will Lunar Fang fly me up there while you engage with Shawn and I just wait?”
“Three shifts,” Grif said. “Lunar fang will carry you to the wall while I initiate combat. Luna is going to come in after a few moments and make him split his attention. Lunar Fang will then harass him from the air once you’re firmly situated. We’ll lure him to the wall and then you can take him by surprise, ok?” he looked to the three of them for acknowledgement, his military bearing coming once more to the forefront.
“Sounds like as good a plan as any,” Conor said. “I guess it’s a good thing I haven’t lost too much weight yet. Should work to my advantage when I jump on top of him.”
“Yeah, you might even stun him for a second,” Lunar Fang spoke with a poke from her hoof to his stomach. “Still, just be careful and let us know if that head of yours starts to hurt. We’ll do something to fix it in the mean time.”
“I can take a headache,” Conor said grimly, even as he winced. “What I want is Shawn back.”
“That’s all any of us want,” Grif said. He drew one of his swords and stuck the point into the circle of friends. “Glory or death. We either come back with shawn or we don’t come back at all. Only come if you're serious.”
Luna nodded to Grif, placing meteor impact across the blade “So let it be.”
Lunar Fang extended a wing and placed it upon Luna’s Meteor impact. Her freshly polished wing blades glinting in the light.
“Count me in.” Conor placed his hand on top of the pile, his ears slightly pointed as he flicked his hair out of the way.
“Then this warrior’s pact is set. Glory or death. Let’s go kick some flank!” Grif said, withdrawing his blade and sheathing it. “I will meet you in front of the gate in 20 minutes. There is something I’m going to need from the tower if I’m going to do this.”
“... We’ll meet you there.” Conor took a deep breath. “This is really happening, isn’t it?”
“I would know if this were a dream,” Luna said as she reattached her hammer to the harness on her back. “I Never thought I’d have to do this fight for real, though.”
Lunar Fang remained silent as she did a personal check on her armor, wing blades, and harnesses. She nodded her head once. “Ready, High Chieftess,” she said, doing her best to hide her worry.
“Then let’s go. Sylvio, you come along too. You can wait at the gate. If anything goes wrong, head back here and warn the others,” Conor said.
Sylvio whimpered a bit but followed the four.
Grif stood at the gate wearing an armor that he, well, Taze, hadn’t worn in months. The dragon scale armor had mercifully been adjusted with the changing spell to fit Grif’s body. The scales added better protection against heavy impact and heat, both of which the gryphon figured would be coming in great quantity in the coming fight. He had added the pauldrons from the crystal empire and the wing protection for greater defense. He stood at the far end of the bridge facing the gate as he waited, idly cleaning his flintlock.
Lunar Fang approached the bridge with Conor at her side as they formed up next to Grif. A moment after that, Luna teleported in her Ursa Major Armor. She looked upon the group. “We are ready to face our teacher. May we pull him back from the darkness.”
“Amen,” Conor said, fervently.
“Lunar fang, get him to the wall.” Grif nodded to the thestral.
“Yes, sir.” Lunar Fang saluted before wrapping her hooves under Conor’s armpits and lifting him up to the wall. She quickly dropped him and crouched behind some of the crates on the ramparts for protection while she scouted the courtyard. Conor took cover behind one of the sconces in the parapet as he held his precious bundle close.
Before they could do anything else, the gates to the castle burst open. Shawn took a few steps forward before noticing Grif and Luna. No weapons were on his person. “Well now...” he said looking to the two. “What are you two doing here?”
“You could say this is an intervention,” Grif said as he holstered his pistol, “Everyone here is here ‘cause they care about you.”
“The two of you and possible others hiding away?”
“Teacher, look what the corruption is doing to you,” Luna pleaded with him. “This needs to stop. We can heal you just as I was healed.”
“You mean just like the Elements of Harmony tried?” He questioned as he reached into his coat and pulled out a glowing white crystal. “I don’t think they worked.”
“Put that down,” Grif said, reaching for a throwing blade. “We have something else. Something more powerful.”
“I’ll stick with my crystals for power,” Shawn replied as he rolled his eyes and placed the crystal back into his coat. “They continue to collect energy for my own use.”
“Valde utilis.” Shawn’s voice came from behind them with the sound of his footsteps. “Very useful.”
Luna and Grif both drew their weapons instantly. “What sorcery is this?” Luna said.
Shawn stood in front of them and behind them. “It’s simple, really, but I wouldn’t want to bore you with the details.”
Grif charged the one behind them, then stood shocked as the image vanished on contact with his blades.
Luna turned and charged, her hammer contacting with the other Shawn. Once again he vanished, a mere illusion.
“Did you really think it would be that easy?” Shawn questioned as he exited the building, walking towards them.
Grif sent one of his blades towards this shawn, expecting another illusion.
Instead of sitting still Shawn grabbed the knife before it made contact. “Good throw,” he said as he bent the knife in his hand. After a moment he opened his hand, rolling his wrist. To his right a solid mass of metal began to form, shifting until it took the shape of a hammer. “I’m done playing games with you all.”
“No holding back?” Grif asked. Not waiting for an answer, he took off. The burst of speed was a bit of a shock to Luna as a miniature gale buffeted her. Sparks clashed as Grif’s blades met Shawn’s hammer, the two objects meeting consistently in rapid succession. However, just as Grif went to take an opening, Shawn vanished again.
Lunar Fang watched the battle from her perch, doing her best to try and find where Lord Shawn would appear next. The challenge was figuring out which Shawn might be doppleganger and which might be real. Suddenly she smiled. “The Left one!” She shouted and Luna took off with a burst of speed flying with her hammer towards Shawn’s back.
Luna had resolved to remove all her limiters for this fight, and it showed. Shawn was forced to retreat a step with every hit of her arm numbing blows. However, when her advantage seemed taken, Shawn reached out, stopping meteor impact in his hand and sending the Lunar princess flying with a blow to the side of the head.
Luna staggered back, shaking her head to clear it, only to feel her back hit from another side. Without a word she shot into the air to recollect and orient herself to the battle. The blow might have taken a mortal out of the fight, barely alive. But Luna was no mere mortal.
Lunar Fang looked to Grif. “Courtyard: far corner,” she shouted, once again spotting the real Shawn.
This time Lunar Fang could see the split second the wind swirled around Grif before he took off again, raining down blows. Shawn Blocked formidably. Grif’s efforts seemed utterly fruitless until one strike was just barely blocked in time and the sword cleaved the skin on Shawn’s non-crystallized shoulder. Thick, dark blood exited the wound in a manner similar to tar.
“What has it done to you?” Grif said, stopping for a fatal second as he was sent into the air by a punch. The dragonscale male just barely managed to prevent a break.
Luna teleported in behind shawn, landing a blow to his side, which caused him to stagger before he melted away.
“He moved-” Lunar Fang did not finish as she yelled from her position, hit from the side by one of the shades. “He’s on the wall!” She shouted as she saw the real Shawn move forward jumping off the wall to try and get to her. She flew up higher into the air, landing on the top of one of the towers. “He’s on the courtyard west wall!” This time she would keep her senses more alert to prevent another sneak attack. She was glad as a moment later she turned and cut off the head of one of the shadows, causing it to melt away. She shuddered. “Feels like the horror stories of Sombra,” she whispered.
Grif met Shawn on the wall. More sparks flew as their blades met. Shawn’s hammer, however, was begging to wear. Scores, scratches, and gouges became more apparent as Grif continued the assault. Finally, the blade of his left handed sword chopped through the haft of the hammer, sending the head flying at Shawn.
The pieces of the hammer burned away, vanishing, only for a new hammer to form in Shawn’s grip.
“Well, that’s unnerving,” Grif thought out loud before pressing his attack, doing his best not to give Shawn an opening. As the corrupted lord backed off he was suddenly knocked off the side of the wall by a golf swing from Luna … and vanished upon impact with the ground.
“Lunar Fang, where is he?” Luna called, her eyes darting left and right as she searched for their foe.
“He,” She paused. “He’s gotten better. One mo-” They heard the sound of a cry as she took to the air. “My position is over run. Need to relocate.” Even as she flew through the air, searching for a suitable perch, she scanned the grounds. Finally, she pointed toward an old pile of rubble that had been stacked where the entrance to the barracks would eventually be rebuilt. “There!” She shouted as she landed on one of the restored balconies.
Grif and Luna returned to the courtyard looking around them as they tried to pinpoint shawn. Grif had no time to react as the hammer slammed into his chest, sending him flailing into a nearby wall as large chunks of stone and mortar landed on him, pinning his paws beneath. Luna charged shawn with a wide arc of her hammer, only for Shawn to effortlessly grab it and physically lift the alicorn into the air by her throat. She gasped for air as the human squeezed harder. The sound of powder igniting filled the air. Shawn’s head snapped to Grif, who weakly held his flintlock in a shaky grip. It was obvious to the three of them that the last ditch effort failed.
From the Balcony Lunar Fang looked and quickly pulled a glinting object from a pouch. Matthew’s Flintlock shone brightly under her wing with its polished nickel plate. She rose the pistol, and using her hooves to hold the handle, primed it based on her observations of Grif and Pensword. She pointed it down, aimed it at the corruption, and prayed to Faust she could score a hit. A second before she fired she felt the weapon jerk down a hair as the flint struck and the explosion of black gunpowder erupted through the air. She felt the pistol jerk up as she staggered back from the way the pistol reacted. She did not see what her shot accomplished as yet another shade attacked her. The pistol fell useless to the ground as she grappled with the enemy.
The arm holding Luna fell limply to Shawn’s side as the alicorn tumbled away, gulping air greedily. Shawn grimaced and gripped the hole as black ichor seeped from the mark before staggering back to the wall.
Now! Use the white one’s gift! Sylvio Lupus howled through the air. Shawn’s head jerked toward the gate as Conor peeked over the edge. Fear clutched at his chest and stomach as he looked down. It would be a long drop. If he missed, he would be seriously injured. “Then don’t miss,” the dry thought entered his brain. He smiled wryly. Knowing Shawn could recover at any moment, he took a deep breath, unravelled the tanned leather that had protected the crystal, and took the plunge.
It took everything he had not to scream.
Raising his arms above his head as the momentum carried him, Conor inverted his stance, thrusting down with all his might as he collided with the human. Shawn’s head smashed against the cobblestones, dazing him.
“With Chaos and order united as one, let corruption’s control now be undone. Puritas!” He cried aloud as the crystals drew closer to contact, the purity crystal blazing with the light of the sun surrounded by a corona of rainbows as the dark purple of the corruption created an aura of shadow and dark. Pushing with all the might he could muster, Conor continued on. Dark voices hissed at the back of his mind.
You will regret this.
He will die.
You will suffer.
Stulte!
“Oh would you just SHUT UP ALREADY!” Conor roared as he rebuked them. Many of the voices cried out in shock. One hissed back, its voice filled with venom and hate.
You have sealed his fate.
“And that fate is freedom,” Conor countered. The dark arua flared as the two stood at a stalemate. Then a bright light similar to a star shone from within Shawn’s pocket. The blackened shroud began to shrink as the light grew stronger. It would seem the power of the Elements of Harmony would have a use after all. “Release him!” Conor shouted with authority as his hands and crystals both erupted with white fire. Raising his arms once more, he brought the crystal crashing down as he stabbed it into Shawn’s shoulder where the purple veins pulsed from the blackened mass.
White light erupted as a geyser of black fluid spurted on Conor’s face and clothes. The voices shrieked as the crystal pulsed and throbbed, growing all the brighter as Shawn’s eyes flashed open. “I’m getting you out of there, Shawn.” Conor glared at the dark crystals. “In the name of the pure one, I command the dark prison broken and the captive released. Let the balance be restored.” Cracks wove up and down the dark crystal as a sound like fracturing glass filled the courtyard.
Lunar Fang stood slack jawed on the balcony as she watched the display. The shade had wavered and disappeared the moment the crystals began their struggle. She could neither speak, nor move at what she was seeing. Instead, she stood there, rooted with worry and fear for the two humans.
Grif stiffened at the sound of the crystals. He knew what could happen if they shattered. “Conor, get back!” he shouted, but too late.
Shawn’s hand clutched at Conor’s shirt as his glowing red irises stared with malevolent hatred. Grimacing through the pain of the bullet, he threw the human for all he was worth, sending him flying into the stone wall behind. Conor cried but once, then fell prone to the ground.
Shawn stumbled to his feet, reaching up towards the white crystal in his shoulder only to stop near it, unable to get any closer. His arm fell to his side as he took a few steps backwards, a small grin appearing on his face. “You have no idea, of what you’ve done.” He began to chuckle softly, even as he staggered, gasping in short breaths.
“To think, I’ve been defeated by someone with little to no training.” Shawn’s chuckle turned into a strained laugh. “To have been killed by someone unfit, someone who got lucky, not even a magic field around you…” He laughed harder as blood began to exit his nose. He turned towards Grif. “You planned this the whole time, didn’t you…?” He coughed violently between laughs as black blood flew from his mouth.
“You’re not dying, Shawn,” Grif said as he struggled to extract himself from the rubble. “And wasn’t it you who always liked to have something up his sleeve?”
Shawn laughed harder. “The only reason I’m alive is because of this magic, and he just started the process of ripping it out of me!” Blood continued to flow from his mouth mixed with spittle as he gasped between the laughter. The crystals on his arm shrunk as they dissipated into the air.
“There are some magics deeper than that, Shawn.” Grif smiled. “You’ll live whether you want to or not.”
Shawn gasped as the crystals finally disappeared with a whine and a pop. His eyes returned to his old shade of blue as he looked at Grif. He coughed once more before taking one last gasp in, his eyes losing focus as he fell forward, hitting the ground.
“Omni is much stronger then he gives himself credit for. He has the heart to love people indiscriminately and the strength to spread that as far as he can. He did this because he sees us as family, heck we’re the closest thing to family we have in this world. If friendship is magic then love is definitely the stuff of miracles.” With a groan Grif pulled himself up as rocks and dust fell by the wayside. He looked grimly to the Lunar princess as he cradled his injuries. “Luna, get him to the hospital and keep him exposed to mana until his vitals stabilize.”
Luna nodded. Lifting Shawn, and then Conor, onto her back, the Lunar princess teleported away instantly. Grif looked at Lunar fang to speak only for him to stop. A strange look overcame his face followed by a near feral snarl. The gryphon turned for the entrance of the fortress and bolted.
Lunar Fang tried to follow only to sway and sit down again as she lost the last of her adrenaline rush. She looked upon the empty Courtyard, slowly chuckling as she gave a silent prayer of thanks to Faust. They had won.
Glyph Reader sweat profusely as his eyes darted up and down the corridor, his ears flicking back and forth. He flinched as Grif’s snarl carried through the cracks before turning fearfully to his prize. “Please, Master. Hurry. The Gryphon is on to us. The viceroy is defeated. We must away before he kills us.”
“It is already too late!”The voice boomed and shook as the last of the dark energy seeped into the pillar. There was an instant of absolute silence before the pillar itself exploded. Dust, stone, and miasma blanketed the room as a pair of red and green eyes shone in the dark. The fool is soft. He has gone to retrieve the unicorn first! And we will be long gone before he will be aware of us. Without another word the darkness swirled around Glyph Reader, whose form evaporated into the mist. In an instant both lord and slave tunneled through the cracks in the stone and out the walls of the castle as the sky echoed with maniacal laughter. King Sombra had risen anew.
Meanwhile, Grif heard the explosion just as he made the castle stairway. His senses were screaming and he found himself letting out a roar without willing it. Like a bloodhound on the trail he descended into the receding miasma of corruption and dark magic. As he walked through the tunnels he came to the T where the hallway branched off to the holding cells. He was about to charge forward when he heard a cough from the prison. Grif’s eyes widened as he barely managed to snap himself out of his hunting frenzy. Someone was still down here? This place was supposed to have been evacuated days ago. Clearly someone had been missed. And that someone needed help. The area could have been soaked in dark magic for hours. Who knows what might be happening to them?
As he moved into the cell block he noticed a deep purple light pulsing feebly from one of the doors. Peering through the bars, an egg-like shell of purple magic shone dully, its form practically opaque as it surrounded the prison bed. Grif could just make out limp form of a pony inside. The shell was covered in spidering cracks and tiny wisps of darkness wriggled at them, seeking entrance. Backing up, Grif threw his weight against the cell door. Fortunately the aged metal gave way to the massive weight of a fully armed and armoured gryphon. Carefully, Grif reached out and attempted to touch the egg-like barrier. It faded to a dead grey and crumbled to dust on contact. It took a moment for Grif to recognise the figure on the bed, but when he did, tears welled up in his eyes. He gently lifted the filly up and headed towards the entrance. The dark magic was already clearing, and somehow, as angry as it made him feel, he knew that Sombra was gone. But not before leaving his mark.
Pensword groaned as he opened his eyes. A moment later he tried to sit up only to find himself loosely bound. “Oh great,” he muttered. He looked around with worry, then jerked back with pain. “Next time, get both Alicorns to fight,” he muttered to himself. His voice came out in a crackling whisper.
A glass of water was offered to him by a taloned hand. “Or you could try not doing something stupid,” Grif responded.
Pensword reached for the glass only to be reminded by the braces that he was still being tied down. He looked to Grif, who smiled and helped him sip. “Well, we had to do something,” he finally replied. Stall the attack. He was going after the nobles. After Canterlot.” He closed his eyes. “I just could not stand by and do nothing. Evil only wins if good beings stand by.”
“And good only wins when it is patient and smart,” Grif retorted gently. “How would you have reacted if you were to find out Lunar Fang didn’t survive the final battle because you were laid up?”
Pensword glared. “She would have visited me if that were the case. What really happened?” He growled angrily before he sighed and lay back. “I still have much to learn. Why is it so hard to think clearly when I realize my family is in danger? This is twice I have gone off with only half a plan. If I keep this up I might be short lived.” He frowned. “Just what is my problem?”
“Seeing as you are over a millennium old, that might be impossible.” Grif laughed dryly. “Well, there is news. A bit of it positive, but not all of it.”
“What happened?” Pensword pressed again.
“For starters, we managed to cure Shawn. With Conor’s help to boot. He got a crystal made of the purity aspect somehow, but he refuses to explain where. We managed to back Shawn into a corner after a somewhat painful fight, and then Conor stabbed him with it.” Grif made a placating motion with his hands as Pensword jerked in his harness before letting out a hiss of pain. “Take it easy, Pensword. Shawn’s fine … well, he will be anyways. The crystal cleansed him of the corruption ... as well as everything else.” Grif grimaced. “He’s stable now, but he needs a constant flow of magic to live. The act of doing this managed to knock Conor out and he hasn’t woken for several hours. Shawn flinging him into stone wall didn’t exactly help things much either. Also, it seems king Sombra is back,” Grif growled through gritted beak. “And that's not the worst news.”
“Okay, what is worse than King Sombra returning from the dead?” Pensword whispered back. “Because that is rather bad, what with what we faced last time we fought him. And we were green back then too. We have more experience now. So what is worse than Sombra?” he frowned. “Please tell me they expect both to wake soon.”
“Pensword, who was in charge of clearing the holding cells during the evac?” Grif asked bluntly.
“That would have been Fox Feather, however he was too...” he paused. “Grif, get into my saddle bag in the corner and bring me the scroll with the Red wax seal, please.”
Grif handed the scroll to pensword, already knowing the truth. “During a shift change in the event of an emergency, Commander Pensword, or Grif, shall be responsible for making sure the prisoners are taken into protective custody for the evacuation,” Grif quoted as pensword opened the scroll.
“Yes, I know. I delegated the task because I had to. I told Lighting Dust to open the cells. I need to find out the break down, at which point, you are to place me under arrest and place me in a cell for no fewer than three days.”
“Trixie was still in her cell when the lower levels became saturated with dark magic. she managed to keep herself defended, but not totally ... and there were side effects.”
Pensword blinked in surprise as he processed the information. “Well, that, I want all charges dropped,” Pensword began. “From what you just told me, she survived something of my own fault and making. I don’t care about what you might say, but I want anything with my name dropped. We need to help her recover from this ordeal.” He closed his eyes as tears threatened to form. “I am such a foal. I really messed up this time. A life almost lost because of my own breakdown in communication.”
Grif pulled back the curtain. “You need to see,” was all he said as he did. Pensword turned his head since the rest of his body was pretty much immobilized.
Trixie’s fur was covered in large, vicious looking markings. The fur, where marked, had died a deeper, more sinister blue. One mark that pensword could make out had crossed over the wand on her cutiemark, turning it into a cruel and evil looking sickle. Her mane and tail now possessed lighter, almost grey streaks. Her horn had taken on a slight curve and the spiral texture had grown less distinct. Somehow Pensword could feel the scars went deeper than he could see, but for now there was no way of telling how changed the unicorn had become.
He turned his head in sorrow. “Find out what we can do for her. Make sure she is safe. And, if needed, find a place for her to stay. In fact… I want her to be my jailer for my sentence,” He finished as he hung his head in shame.
“We can do self pity later,” Grif said. “The first step will be recovery. I’ve already got the engineers working on an estimate of the extent of the damages and how long it will take to repair them. The guards are working on calming the civilians. Recovery must be our first priority.”
“Understood. But the moment recovery is over I must face my terms. I will not be above the laws I put in place.” Nurse Redheart entered, smiling as she began to tend to his IV. “Oh, more pain meds. I really pulled a wing in that fight, didn’t I?”
“Much more than a wing, Pensword. But you’ll be fine as long as you get plenty of rest. This should help,” Redheart said cheerily as she fluffed the pegasus’ pillow.
Pensword yawned as the IV drip flowed into his veins. “... Yeah. It makes me … kinda drowsy.”
Grif chuckled. “Have a good rest. And then, be ready. I’m pretty sure I saw fire under Lunar Fang’s hooves last time she was in here to check on you,” Grif said, getting to his feet as he headed for the door.
“I deserve her fire,” Pensword responded after a yawn. “I truly do.” Moments later, he fell asleep as the medication went to work.
Extended Holiday Ch 56: Rising from the Ashes Act 7
Princess Celestia stared out the window of her hospital room as she sat on a large cushion. Her ear turned at the sound of her door opening, but she did not move. Truth be told, she couldn’t without her body crying out in pain. Shawn had done his work well. She frowned as another thought flicked through her mind, pursing her lips.
“You were foolish, Sister,” Luna’s voice broke the silence.
“I was trying to save a friend. I have no regrets,” Celestia said, still staring through the stained glass.
“He means the same to all of us, Tia. It was only together we could hope to succeed,” Luna chastened. “Had the two of you been present, perhaps the battle would have gone better,” she said, idly using her wing to rub her neck. “As it is, we were lucky to be able to come out of this alive, especially that human.”
Celestia sighed. “I know, Luna. And I feel even worse about it now knowing that they’re both in a critical condition. Worse yet … I’ll have to face Lunar Fang soon.” She sighed. “I guess even princesses make mistakes, don’t we Luna?”
“Heal for now, Tia,” Luna said as she gently nuzzled Celestia’s mane. “You will not be leaving this room until I am convinced of your well being. And you’d best be quick about it. The courier with that timed package you planned for Twilight leaves tomorrow.”
Celestia swore. “Have I really been unconscious for that long?” Her wing twitched and she winced.
“It surprised me you and Pensword both woke up so soon, or at all even. It was fortunate that he didn’t desire your death.” Luna sighed. “So many things piled on top of each other: this disaster, Twilights destiny, the Equestria Games Committee. I wonder how you did this for a thousand years alone.”
“It wasn’t easy, sister.” Celestia groaned as she got up on all fours and walked over to Luna. “But let’s not talk of a certain pony’s destiny when we’re in a hospital, hmm? There’s a bit too much of a chance for prying eyes and ears to hear and see things they shouldn’t.”
“Very well, Celestia,” Luna nodded. “I did not come here to chastise you either way. I came to confirm that the Equestria Games this year will be held within the Crystal Empire and also that I have sponsored New Unity to participate.”
Celestia smiled. “Excellent. It will make for good entertainment when Shawn wakes up again. Hammer Strike may even want to enter in the strength of arms challenges.”
“Possibly, yes.” Luna smiled. “But I am hoping this will inspire the birth of a military games.”
“One step at a time, Sister. First we need to get your bill through the House of Lords.” Celestia smiled back. “And you have my complete support.”
“Recent events have finally opened your eyes?” Luna asked.
“If the elements of harmony can be defeated, we need to have a backup plan.” Celestia sighed. “As much as I hate to admit it, it was wrong of me to disband the military.”
“This will make things easier, at least,” Luna said.
Celestia smirked. “Don’t count on it, sister. But I think we’ll be able to manage.”
Shawn stared down at his motionless body, his eyes looking over his arm and the edges of his face to ensure that the crystals were truly gone. He stared into the distance as the visages of Luna, Grif, and Conor played before his eyes. He trailed over them, knowing he thankfully didn’t do enough damage to kill them.
“So … went on a rampage, did ya?” A voice asked from beside him, then whistled. “Quite a bit of damage too.”
“Nothing fatal at least,” Shawn responded as he looked towards the voice. A dark grey earth pony stood next to him wearing a long black tattered cloak over his thin fur and fragile looking skin.
“Bet you have an interesting time dealing with someone like me,” Shawn commented.
With a wince the specter rubbed his jaw. “Yeah, well, you had to kick the bucket sooner or later,” Death said.
“Sure, but I still got time on my hands.”
“Yeah, you’re right.” Death sighed, not bothering to fight. “Still, you got alot of things to make right now.”
“Trust me, I know,” Shawn replied. “So, how many times have we met? I don’t get to remember these meetings, it seems.”
“Too many.” Death chuckled. “So far you’ve been harder to reap than that Rasputin fellow.”
“I’ll agree with that too many part. I should have been long dead by now, but I can’t. Not until I’m done with everything I need to do.”
“You do realize you're not the first guy to use that line, right?” Death asked.
“Yeah, but I think I’m one of the rare ones that will ensure I get the job done, even if it’s against your wishes,” Shawn said as his eyes flicked back towards Death. “And I take it I already tried something before.” He gave a small grin.
Death glared at him. “You punched me in the face.”
“I could have done worse,” Shawn shrugged as he replied.
“Not many people are stupid enough to threaten Death,” Death pointed out.
“Who says it was a threat?” Shawn gave a small grin.
“Whatever,” Death said. “I have souls to reap. I’ll be heading out now.”
“I guess I’ll see you when I nearly die once again, hmm?” Shawn hummed.
“Maybe next time I’ll let someone else handle it,” Death said. “Till our paths cross again.” With that, Death was gone.
“Teacher!” Luna’s voice cut into Shawn’s head suddenly as he realised the blue alicorn was shaking him slightly, really there this time, rather than the visage he’d imagined previously.
Shawn blinked as he snapped out of his thoughts. “Huh, yes?” He looked over to her. “Sorry, thinking.”
“You were awake when I entered, but just staring at the wall, mumbling,” Luna said. “I have been trying to get your attention for nearly ten minutes.”
“There are multiple reasons for that, a primary one being the fact that I had a conversation with Death… Interesting spectral being,” he finished with a sigh.
“He is quite something.” Luna nodded.
“He doesn’t like me much.” Shawn gave a weak chuckle before giving a sigh with a small cringe.
“And how many times have you escaped him?”
“I’ve been unable to remember any of the other meetings. Don’t know why I remember this one though. Then again, I have a lot to remember and think on.”
“Because you would have died,” Luna said. “If it had been any other solution you would have perished without any chance.”
“I should be dead right now, honestly,” Shawn replied. “I’ve gotten to the point where I can’t live without magic, quite literally.”
“But even as the magic left you, Conor left a spark inside you that kept you alive,” Luna said. “I have rarely seen a friend so giving of his heart.”
“He’s a good guy who shouldn’t have been dragged into this mess. I’m glad I still had some control over myself…”
“You seemed to be losing that at the end of it,” Luna said, making no secret of rubbing her neck.
“Considering I had the ability to disintegrate all of your internal organs before you got even close, I was holding back the whole time.”
“It takes a lot of strength to leave a physical mark on me or my sister,” Luna reminded him. “That hold certainly felt genuine.”
“Didn’t you notice how I didn’t use your hammer against you after I took it?” he asked.
“I figured you simply would have preferred to make your point personally,” Luna said.
“I would have made the fight over as quickly as I could if I was going all out. That’s why the crystals were growing so quickly. I wasn’t using the energy against you until I couldn’t hold it in anymore. And even then part of me kept trying to use it in some way: the whispers, the fake shadows, stuff like that.”
“Maybe, but you were sweating during the fight.” Luna smirked. “I noticed several times you were unprepared.”
Shawn gave a soft chuckle. “Yeah, yeah. You caught me off guard several times, at least from what I remember.” The two laughed together for a time, mainly Luna before she calmed herself enough to look on the human once more.
“I am glad, however, that you are back,” she said as she looked at him with concern. “It would not do for you to die and break your record.”
“I still have work to do before I die, and I hope to at least die of old age rather than some battle. But I honestly have little hopes for that.”
“Don’t think age will be able to kill you either?” Luna asked.
“With the way things are, I doubt I’ll live long enough for that. This doesn’t help considering I felt my internal organs fail as my magic left my body. I can barely move as it is now.”
“But you are alive,” Luna said. “That itself is a victory.”
“Certainly is.” Shawn sighed as he propped himself up.
“I shall take my leave,” Luna said, nodding. “You must be tired.
Shawn sighed again. “I guess I’ll try to get some rest, though there is next to no chance of it happening,” he replied as he watched her go. “Good luck dealing with the nobles in Celestia’s place.”
“I’ll need it,” Luna said with a grim chuckle as the door closed behind her.
Shawn placed his head against his pillow. He felt exhausted, weak even, but he couldn’t find himself getting anymore rest. So he closed his eyes, thinking quietly to himself as he waited for time to move on until his next encounter, or until sleep took hold of him once again.
“‘Sup?” An all too familiar voice spoke into his ear.
“Why do I have a feeling you’re here for revenge?” Shawn asked as he opened his eyes and looked to his left. Death stood there, a malicious grin on his face.
The oh so formerly Great and Powerful Trixie slept restlessly, tossing and turning. The hospital staff could only watch, unable to approach as large portions of purple and blue static seemed to battle over the mare.
Surrender to the dark. Let the lovely corruption devour you and bathe in the sweet power. Then we shall be great and powerful like no unicorn ever was before. We shall reap such lovely chaos. The voice in Trixie’s head was dark and feminine, the horrific words it spoke offset by the gentle allure of her voice.
Do not fall from the light. We must remain strong and find strength within our own power. We swore we would seek redemption. The second voice was lighter, kinder. And yet it’s undertone was the same grasp for control.
We swore we would have vengeance on Twilight Sparkle. We should accept this power and take that vengeance, the dark voice rebuttled.
We swore we would live to bring happiness to others, the kind voice spoke, throwing images of Trixies early days of performing: a filly doing simple tricks for her parents, a young mare amazing her classmates with simple illusions artistically set, a fully grown mare standing before a crowd of starry eyed foals.
We swore we would let no one best us, the dark voice rebuttled with images of that same filly hidden behind the table with the cookie jar while her mother attempted to put out an illusionary burning loaf of bread. That same young mare laughed wickedly as a young colt slammed into a tree chasing an illusionary bit. Again the same mare smirked over a waterlogged pegasus stallion who had dared to heckle her.
Trixie’s movements became erratic as the voices argued, more images, more oaths. The energy around her cackled menacingly until Trixie forced herself up and out of her mind. “ENOUGH!” The one word echoed through the halls as the mare willed her mind to be quiet. Her eyes blinked a few times as she woke to the world around her. “Trixie is … alive?” she questioned the nearby hospital staff who stared at her with awe and a hint of fear.
The earth pony stallion with a shot for his cutiemark balked. “Uhhh … yes. Just a moment. You keep in that bed and I’ll go get Doctor Strange.”
Trixie sighed a bit as she looked around the room. She noticed the darker fur on one of her hooves and stared for a moment, not sure what it could mean. She looked around, caught a distorted glimpse of her reflection on a nearby metal tray, and reacted in the most sensible way her mind could figure. She screamed.
Doctor Strange came running full speed with a very breathless orderly behind him. “What’s going on? Is everything alright?” The doctor asked, his horn glowing and at the ready.
“What happened to Trixie?” Trixie asked in tears.
“You were exposed to an incredibly high dosage of dark magic. Most ponies would have died, or succumbed to the corruption, but somehow you managed to survive until the power was dispelled. Then you were rescued by Grif. They brought you here along with Lord Shawn and the human, Conor,” the doctor explained.
“Can you fix Trixie?” she asked.
“Do you want the truth, or do you want me to tell you what you want to hear?”
Trixie shot him a very pointed glare.
“I’m perfectly serious,” the doctor said.
“Tell Trixie the truth,” she said.
“Alright. The truth is that we don’t know. You’re a unique case: perhaps the only unicorn in history to have absorbed so much dark power and still maintained her core self. If you wish to find a way to return to your former appearance, we can do some tests and research, but I’ll likely have to call in some outside assistance on this one. The odds are very slim,” he said grimly.
“What about Twilight Sparkle?” Trixie asked.
“That’s the help I had in mind. I’ll have a message sent to her immediately. In the meantime, you need to rest. Your magic has been fighting itself for the last week.”
“But a unicorn can’t survive its magic attacking itself. If that were true, Trixie would be dead,” Trixie said.
“Well, you don’t look dead to me. There’s a first time for everything,” Doctor Strange said as he shrugged. “Get some rest, Miss Trixie. We’ll figure this all out in time. If you need anything, press the call button on your bed. A nurse will come to see what they can do to help. Just don’t abuse it, okay?” he asked as he strode toward the door.
“Okay.” Trixie nodded.
Pensword glared ahead as he listened to the creaking of metal on his wheelchair’s wheels. His left shoulder was heavily bandaged and he winced in pain as the chair came to a halt, the momentum shifting him forward in his seat.
“Maybe I should have held off the attack with Celestia,” he muttered. The doctor next to him knocked on the door. After a muffled response, he pushed the door open and wheeled the commander in. A moment later he exited, leaving the pegasus to visit with its occupant. Sitting on a cushion staring out the window was Princess Celestia.
“Princess, we need to talk. I have concerns,” Pensword said, waiting for Celestia to respond. She nodded to the three nurses and two doctors to leave. They were about to protest but a glare cast them out without further argument, leaving just Pensword and Celestia. She moved a bandaged wing, giving permission for Pensword to begin.
“My concern is thus. I have gone ballistic twice. What is happening? I fear it is some instinct and seeing as I am not, well, I was raised, but in a time of war and a different time period, what am I experiencing? I fear if I cannot get a handle on these emotions and urges, I will have to resign on the grounds of posing a danger to all of Equestria.”
“Pensword, what do you mean going ballistic? I’ve never seen you act in such a manner, and neither has my sister,” Celestia said.
“My actions against the dome over Ponyville. I took almost all troops that I could command and attacked the dome without any forethought.” Pensword hung his head. “But I was not going for the citizens, it was just for two lives. Only two lives: my Life Mate and my daughter. How could I do that? Abuse resources just to protect my family… Princess, I fear that because of losing my family before the war, I may become or have become overprotective of my current one. I have been compromised.”
Celestia stood and slowly walked up to the pegasus. “Pensword, you voice a legitimate concern. However, I believe your fears are misplaced. To love and care for one’s family is completely natural. Have you never wondered why it is that Rainbow Dash was chosen to represent the element of loyalty?”
“To be honest, Princess, no. I have not wondered. I thought she is a loyal friend,” Pensword answered.
Celestia smiled. “Pegasi are all an incredibly loyal race. And while they are well known for their military prowess, the main reason for this is because each and every one of them wanted to be the best and strongest pony they could be to protect the ones they love. To protect their families. Their loyalty drove them to become the great race they are today.”
Pensword paused to turn and looked at Princess Celestia, “Princess, are ... are you saying that this is normal to feel? Normal to react? Then how do I handle this?” He paused as he lowered his eyes. “Am I so… overreactive because I lost my family?”
“It’s possible. Trauma has been known to drive many a pony to extremes. The question is how you use the power you wield. So far, you’ve used it in a perfectly reasonable manner, even if it was for more selfish ends. If you truly are concerned, then talk to Lunar Fang about it. I’m sure she’ll be happy to help you come up with a solution. And if you don’t talk with her about this, then I will myself.”
“Very well, Princess,” Pensword said wearily. “I shall speak with Lunar Fang when I see her next.” He paused. “I never thought that I would have an instinct this strong. Still, thank you, your Majesty, for your kind words.”
Celestia chuckled. “You’re welcome, Pensword. By the way, it’s pretty easy to explain the overreaction. I believe that Shawn would say ‘Welcome to fatherhood.’”
Pensword chuckled softly before wincing. “I better return to my room. It is time to rest. I am sorry, Princess. Would you like me to return tomorrow for tea?”
“You know, Pensword, I think I’d love that. There is strength in numbers. And I get the feeling we’ll need that in the coming days when your friends come to chastise us.”
“Agreed. I fully expect my Life Mate to be the first to chastise me.” He spoke softly. “Still, I will stand by, battling at your side. We both felt we had to act, and in acting, we discovered what he would have done if we waited. I doubt you would have liked Lord Shawn marching to Canterlot and “speaking” to the nobility.”
“No, Pensword, I would not. But to seek to justify and make excuses would merely inflame them. We’ll weather the storm in silence and take what will come. Then we can explain later.”
The door opened and the doctor entered the room with the nurses. “Very well, Princess Celestia. Until tomorrow,” Pensword said as the nurse took his wheelchair and wheeled him out.
Grif yawned as he reached New Unity. The sun was beginning its descent thanks to Luna, and the sky behind the fortress shone with a blood orange tinge, casting the fortress itself in an eerie light. As he landed in the courtyard, he examined the area before finally catching sight of Black Rook.
“Rook, I need everyone gathered here for a minute before lights out. I have a few announcements to make and something important to do,” he told the pony. Rook didn’t speak. He just gave Grif a tired nod before heading out. Around half an hour later, as the last bits of light were fading, the majority of New Unity’s occupants stood at attention in the courtyard.
“Okay, everybody. The last few days have been especially rough and you're all tired from preparing for your night posts, so I’ll make this quick.” He cleared his throat. “Lord Hammer Strike has taken ill and Lord Shawn will be stuck in the hospital until such a time as the princesses believe he is in condition to leave. Commander Pensword sustained minor injuries himself and will remain in the hospital till week’s end. As per usual, any problems or issues should be brought to me until the two of them return. If I’m unavailable, Lunar Fang, Silver Spear, Black Rook, or Fox Feather will be present to hear your issues. In the case of the Bladefeather family, that will mean taking your issues to Thalia or Shrial. I want to thank you all for your loyalty and your calm in the past crisis. I have looked over the reports and am happy to say the damages were considerably minor and should be well repaired within the next two weeks.”
Taking a moment to catch his breath, Grif smiled onto the crowd. “One last piece of news before you can return to your duties.” This received a groan from the audience, which Grif couldn’t help but chuckle at. “I assure you this is a good one.” Reaching into his pack he pulled out a scroll. “New Unity has received permission to nominate a team for the qualifiers and barring we make it past that in at least one event, the Equestria Games.” That seemed to bring some life to the group as they sounded with cheers and stomps. Grif held up a talon again. “Now, my friends, I am going to say that we are not going to focus on the flying competitions this time. The wonderbolts are competing this year and while all the winged creatures present are great flyers, it is doubtful we would outpace, let alone outperform them in the air.” This received a mixed reaction, which was expected. “So let’s focus where we shine. Tomorrow the officers of each branch will be passing out forms where you will all nominate who you think the best choices for the events will be. Then, at the end of the week, I will meet with Commander Pensword, Lunar Fang, and the other officers to decide from your choices.”
Sensing at least a few objections, Grif held up his talons again. “Let’s remember that until further notice this fortress is a military installation. Even you civilian residents are currently here under military contracts. This isn’t a democracy, people. Your suggestions will be taken into account, but the hierarchy must be remembered.” Shooting the group a challenging look, he laughed. “Now let’s do this right so we can kick the other teams’ flanks all the way back to wherever they're from.” The reaction to this statement wasn’t quite as energetic as he’d hoped. A few ponies stomped, and gryphons clapped obligatorily for their clan head. “Oh, give me a break, guys. I’m exhausted.” Grif sighed. “Dismissed.”
The ponies and gryphons dispersed. With a yawn and a crack of his neck, Grif took to the air, making a beeline for his tower.
Grif smiled as he sat at the small table in his room, perhaps the only time he was ever to be found with neither armor nor weapons on his person was in these rare moments of peace in the morning when he woke before Shrial did. With a relaxed poise he watched his wife sleeping soundly as he thought about Zecora’s words when he had asked about the gender of their first child. His mind wanted to race, considering all the exciting and terrifying things all at once, but for some reason all that came to the gryphon was peace as he waited.
Slowly, the dawn light touched the gryphoness’ eyes and Shrial awoke, blinking blearily as she turned to face her lover and mate. She groaned in contentment as she stretched. “Morning, dear.”
“Morning.” Grif smiled. “Sleep well? No cramps? No morning sickness?”
“Now why in Equis would I have morning sickness?” She asked, her tail swishing back and forth as the hair snapped like a whip.
“Oh, I had an interesting talk with Zecora,” Grif said. “I asked her about the gender of our first born and she gave me some interesting news.” Grif smirked at her with the same ‘gotcha’ smirk she had seen so many times in the war.
“And what, pray tell, was this news?” She asked, returning the smirk with one of her own.
“Twin girls. In just over four months,” Grif said. “Funny considering last I checked these things took five months for our race.” He casually buffed a talon against his feathers.
“You know that’s cheating, Grif. You took all the fun out of the surprise.” She frowned “I was waiting for the right time to tell you.”
“Considering for our species-” Grif smiled as he reached out and pulled her over to him. “-these kind of things are intentional. It may have helped to tell me beforehand.” He turned her around gently and hugged her from behind. “Perhaps I wasn’t entirely ready for this yet.”
“And since when has that stopped you before?” She asked with a sly smirk and a raised eyebrow. “But twins? You’re sure she said twins?”
“I asked her four times,” Grif said as he planted a slow kiss on her crest. “Just to be sure.”
“I can only imagine what she said after that,” Shrial said, chuckling. “‘Ask not again, for this is no joke. Seek one more time and face my poison joke,’” she said in as close an impersonation as she could manage to the wise zebra.
Grif laughed awkwardly for a moment. “So… I guess this leaves a few questions. And I guess the first and most important is, are we going to be the kind of parents who name their twins with similar sounding names?” he asked, taking her talons in his.
“Well now, that depends on what sounds right now, doesn’t it?” she asked playfully.
“Back from Taze’s home there was a lady in myth: a goddess. She represented wisdom in combat. He always liked her name and I think Athena has a nice ring to it,” Grif said, smiling. “A strong, proud, and hopefully wise gryphoness. Let’s hope she gets that from her mother.” He laughed.
“And let’s hope that both get their father’s loving heart,” She said, snuggling close as she ran her beak through his neck feathers. “The question is … what do we name the second, hmm? Since we’re taking an earth name for the first, it seems only fair that we use a Gryphonian name for the other. How does Gentle Wing sound?”
“It sounds like there is something more to that suggestion than spur of the moment,” Grif said. “What's it mean to you?”
“My mother.” No other words needed to be said. Grif knew only too well what she meant.
“Then it’s perfect.” He hugged her gently again. “It’s just too bad this happened now.” Grif chuckled. “Now I’m going to have to look for someone to practice my fencing with. I have to look sharp if I’m representing Unity for the games.”
“Hasn’t Rarity grown rather proficient as a pupil? Perhaps you could challenge her. Or else go with Hammer Strike once he wakes. He has had a lot of experience.”
“With Rarity’s fast growing skill I fully expect to be facing her for Ponyville in the qualifier, if not the games themselves,” Grif said with pride. “And even if Hammer Strike were ready to spar for the foreseeable future, his technique isn’t exactly for skill, but more for power,” he told her. “Now we should head to breakfast. Rook will be waiting for me soon and we have a lot to prepare for.” He kissed her beak gently.
“Then let’s eat.” She smiled. “I’ve got a sudden hankering for pickles.”
“Then pickles you shall have,” he said as she got to her feet and then he allowed himself to fall forward onto his. “I still have to wonder when you decided this.” He stopped for a moment. “Wait … the storm?” he asked, his eyes widening.
She winked at him slyly. “Why else do you think I was so passionate?” She asked as she made her way out the door, rubbing her tail underneath his beak, just as she did when they first started dating.
“I… don’t deserve you,” Grif said in a shocked tone as he followed her out.
“Stop that,” She chided absently as she swayed her hips in front of him. “If you say that one more time, so help me, Grif, I’ll give you the biggest lashing since Graf trained you.”
“Yes, dear.” Grif gulped. Well, definitely mood swings. He didn’t dare give voice to his thoughts this time. The two gryphons left their tower only stopping so each could belt on their weapons. They had a long day ahead of them.
Conor groaned as an annoying beep stabbed its way into his consciousness. He slowly opened his eyes to see flickering lights on a blank high ceiling.
“Back in the hospital again, I see,” he muttered. Then he started as his eyes widened. Shawn, he thought. What happened to Shawn? He immediately reached for the call button on his bed only to see a white coat as bright as the light Harmony had used to dispel the chaos staring back at him. He prodded it, running his hands over it curiously as he felt the rough sensation of running against the grain and the smoothness of going back. He shuddered as a tingling sensation ran across his body. The skin felt rough, thicker than normal, but not to the point where it could be called a hide, perse. He slowly reached up to his forehead, fearing for the worst as he prodded around the usually sensitive area. He could feel a small lump as he pressed, but it was not too prominent just yet. He was pleasantly surprised to find it didn’t hurt.
For the first time in weeks, Conor could think and see clearly without fear of pain. … Wait a minute. He could see clearly? He smiled. “I can see.” He laughed. “Well, at least that’s one positive thing to come from all this. He shook his head and felt his newly regrown hair shake. “And there’s another one. I’m gonna have to see about getting a haircut soon,” he muttered to himself. With that said, he snapped back to Shawn again and pressed the call button. Besides, he was hungry.
And then a cupcake dropped onto his chest. “Happy you just woke up after being a big hero party!” A familiar voice of a pony he’d met only once before cried. Conor couldn’t help but smile. “Gummy was so right about you waking up just now,” Pinkey said.
“Heya, Pinkey. How’s it going?” Conor asked as he pulled the cover off the cupcake and started eating. “And thanks for the cupcake. I needed this.”
“It’s great!” Pinkie cheered. “Well, Rainbow Dash is still complaining about the fight with Shawn, and Twilight’s been trying to figure out for days how he stopped the Elements of Harmony, but I’m doing well.”
“You have no idea how glad I am. Say, Pinkie, I have a question. Did you ever sense a doozie coming on for me before all this stuff happened with Shawn and the corruption and all that? And secondly, how long have I been unconscious?”
“I had a lot of doozies just before this happened.” Pinkie Pie shrugged. “I wasn’t able to tell what was going to happen for sure though. Oh, and you’ve been out for a week. The doctors said something about some weird magic thing that was assembling all around you keeping them from any real deep testing or something like that.”
“Huh, well how about that. What about Shawn? Is he doing alright?”
The sight of an awkward smile on Pinkie Pie’s face seemed wrong. Everything about the idea seemed wrong. “Well … he’s alive,” she said, her hair deflating slightly.
“Pinkie, what aren’t you telling me?” Conor pressed.
“When Luna brought him in he was only hanging on by a tiny spark of energy. He was almost out of magic and Twilight said it’d be like a machine without a power source. But now everything’s left and it’s going to take a long time for him to be back to where he was,” Pinkie said. “It may be a month before he can fully leave his room.”
But he’s alive and he’s on the mend,” Conor said. Pinkie nodded. “Then there’s nothing to worry about.” Conor smiled. “Come on, Pinkie, cheer up. You’ve got another party to plan for when Shawn gets back out of the hospital, right? Come on and give me a smile. I don’t like seeing friends who’re sad.”
The mention of this caused the pink pony’s mane to instantly pop back up. “Thats right! I have to plan his party, and your party, and a party for Grif and Luna, and the shower, so many parties to plan.” In an instant the pink pony was standing on Conor’s chest staring right into his face. “Do you know what this means?”
“Uhhh … that you have a lot of baking to do?”
“YES!” She practically screamed in his face, and by practically… she literally screamed before leaving so fast that a pink dust cloud in the exact silhouette of the party pony stood on the human’s chest for a whole 10 seconds before he realised she was gone. Several seconds later the pink blur returned, taking the dust cloud with it and leaving behind another cupcake on the stand beside his bed.
Conor laughed and shook his head as a very confused looking Nurse Redheart walked in, her nurse’s cap knocked askew.
“Pinkie Pie?” she asked as she fixed her cap.
“Pinkie Pie,” Conor said, grinning as a fresh bout of laughter came on. All was well with the world, at least for now.
“You know, I figured you would have gone by now, due to your job.” Shawn said as he looked towards Death once again.
“I’ve got employees.” Death shrugged.
“I somewhat figured that when you stuck around,” he replied. “Still trying to think of the reason for why I can see you now...”
“Because you died,” Death said. “The other times you were only mostly dead. Mostly dead is still slightly alive”
“Glad to know I flatlined.” Shawn shrugged, then paused as he looked towards the door. “And company…”
The door opened with a bang as Rainbow Dash blew through in her usual speedy manner, shortly followed by Twilight and Pinkie Pie as the party pony came bouncing in in her usual style. She quickly popped a cupcake on Shawn’s bedside table before jumping into the air and landing on Death’s back.
“Hiya, Shawn! Just finished visiting Conor earlier. He’s doing just fine. Well, aside from the whole fur all over the body and a bump on the head, and maybe some thicker fingernails, but yeah, he’s fine.” She smiled at the human. “I just wanted to drop off a get well soon cupcake to help you get back your energy. Oh, and I have one for your friend here too.” She smiled as she pulled out yet another cupcake from nowhere.
“What-?” Death started to ask when his face was suddenly stuffed full of pastry.
Shawn only gave a faint grin as he watched the event unfold before turning back towards the others as they gaped at the sight. “The sad part is, only I and she can see what she just did.”
Strangely enough, as Pinkie stood on Death’s back Shawn was sure he could hear chanting in the background of the room in a strange language he heard inside his mind, but couldn’t understand. He shook his head weakly.
“So, what brings you for the visit?” He questioned.
“Don’t start, buddy,” Rainbow said, poking his chest with a hoof. “What's the big idea with trying to kill us? You should’ve been able to whoop that black magic’s butt easy.”
“Dealing with dark power isn’t something easy.” Shawn said. “As for trying to kill you, had that part of me wanted you dead, I’m pretty sure you wouldn’t be here,” he replied.
“What do you mean by ‘that part of you’?” Twilight asked
“Chapter thirteen,” he replied.
“You cut that chapter out,” Twilight reminded him.
“Exactly,” he said as he faced her. “Chapter thirteen: Thaumic Overtake. When your natural field is filled with aspects of dark nature it will take over the field, and in turn, control the person. By taking the darkest thoughts and darkest parts of the mind, it takes control of the user with a goal for power.”
“Then that was you, just the bad you?” Twilight asked.
“Though I don’t like it, yes, that was me. A more uncontrolled version of me.” He sighed heavily.
“And that can happen to anyone?” Twilight asked. “Like dark magic?”
“It’s what happened to Sombra, but it takes time and a constant source of this energy,” he said before he paused. “Or a sudden burst ... of…” He stopped speaking, his expression falling flat.
“What is it?” Twilight asked.
“I’m going to kill him,” he said aloud. “A sudden burst of chaotic energy.”
“So Discord’s responsible for all this?” Rainbow Dash growled as she asked.
“Once I can physically get to him, that is…” Shawn sighed once again. “Oh, and Twilight, you were both right and wrong.”
“About what?” Twilight asked.
“I flatlined,” Shawn replied simply.
Twilight’s mouth pantomimed talking for a few seconds as the unicorn was unable to find the words to respond.
“So yeah, I died. Death now bothers me as punishment for not really… dying, and I have something I need you to do,” Shawn continued.
“What is it?” she asked.
“Check my coat. Inside, the top pocket on the left side,” he said, pointing towards the table across the room. His coat lay on the chair waiting to be worn again.
Twilight did as she was bidden, pulling out a rainbow colored crystal.
“Keep that crystal contained,” Shawn told her. “Being as it came from the Elements of Harmony, I figure it’s probably best that one of you six keep it. I don’t want to experiment with it.”
Twilight nodded as she placed the crystal in her saddle bag.
“Any other questions or concerns?” Shawn asked.
“I guess we should let you get some rest.” Twilight sighed.
“Twilight, you should know me by now.”
“At least try to get some rest,” Twilight said.
“Twilight,” Shawn repeated. “You should know me by now.”
Derpy answered the door with confusion. The derpy eyed pegasus was unused to visitors at her house, especially this early in the morning. Upon opening the door she found no one waiting for her, but a large cardboard box left on her doorstep. Carefully, she picked it up and opened it. Her look switched from curiosity to confusion, and then to happiness as a small tear trickled down her eye.
The box was stuffed with a dozen fresh muffins of varying flavors. They were still warm and the scent wafted off them gently in the morning air, making her mouth water. On the top, written in what had likely been a black sharpie, was a message.
Dear Derpy,
It’s march 1st and though this may not make a lot of sense, we just wanted to send you these jumbo muffins (though we understand they’re not as good as your own) and wish you a happy Derpy Day.
Your friends at New Unity
Lord Shawn
Matthew
Taze
Conor
Derpy sniffled as she swept her head back and forth, looking for the good samaritan who had left such a wonderful gift for her. “... Nopony ever remembers my birthday.” She smiled as she walked back into her house. A small greyish-purple unicorn stepped out briefly and smiled in the direction of the big blue box in their front yard. “Thanks, Grif,” she said before shutting the door and going over to her mother. Through the window, the gryphon could see the grey pegasus flying loup de loups and aerial cartwheels. He smiled warmly at the scene as he extended his wings and took to the air. The only thing nagging at his mind was how Dinky had known it was him and how she’d known where he was hiding.
Pensword’s left ear swiveled as he heard hoof falls in the hallway. He knew who was coming to visit. He took a steadying breath and waited for Lunar Fang to enter the room. He was getting better and that meant that he most likely would be able to weather the storm without getting too worn out. He hoped.
“Feeling better?” a familiar voice spoke sweetly as Lunar Fang entered, closing the door and locking it behind her.
“You do realize the lock is nothing but a placebo? If something happens the staff have to be in here in seconds at most,” he spoke with a small chuckle. “Still, I am feeling better.” His jovial look fell to one of melancholy and regret. “I know you have words to say to me. I hope I am strong enough to weather them.”
And then Lunar Fang drove her sword through the floor right in front of the door. The Lunar steel blade was not going to be moving anytime soon. “They can try,” she said sweetly.
“Very Well, dear,” was all Pensword said in a rather matter of fact tone. “I am ready.”
“Would you mind telling me why you you decided to go out on a suicide run?” she asked him, her voice level, but bearing a sharpened edge.
“Because I am battling a strong instinct to keep you and Moon River safe,” Pensword answered, looking her in the eyes. His vision blurred as the tears started to form. “My dear,” he began, “Thou knowest thou and the others I consider brothers are the only family I have left. I just learned from Celestia that I fell to the instinct to protect my family. To protect you,” he said, pointing at her. “I do not give excuses. I know what I did is foolish, yet, I feel like I did the right thing.”
“Nearly getting yourself killed was the right thing?” Lunar Fang’s glare was hard. “If you weren’t my superior I’d have you incarcerated for three days for that kind of logic.”
“I shall add that to my three days for leaving Trixie in the jail cells,” Pensword said, his head hung low. “You are the second in command, dear. You married the Commander of the Equestrian Forces and that gives you privileges, including that you can, in fact, place me in Jail. Faust knows I deserve it,” he mumbled. “I failed thee and Moon River. I need to become better at controlling my instincts.” He paused. “I fear only what I will do if Moon River’s future courter even dares to break her heart.”
“The hunter who leaves the pack is the hunter who winds up dead.” It was a thestral proverb, possibly one of the most basic ones taught to the foals. “What would I have told Moon River if something had happened to you?”
“The truth.” Pensword stared down at his blankets. “I will sleep where you deem it necessary after my time in jail. I have brought shame to our herd, and to our marriage. We had a threat and I did not ask, nor consult with thee. What kind of a husband am I where I do not even consult my wife?”
“I can never stop caring for you.” Lunar Fang sighed. “But there is no honor in a foolish death.” She brought his head up to face her with a hoof, her eyes determined. “This cannot happen again.”
“Nor I. I shall consult thee much better and speak to Princess Luna to make completely sure that we share the security clearances of the future.” He bowed his head again. “Dear, what I did was foolish and all I can say is, I have learned. I just pray thou canst help me overcome this instinct to rush into danger to protect thee and Moon River. Do the Thestrals have this instinct as well?”
“We are born together,” she reminded him. “We are the family. As the family we live and as the family we die. We hunt together, we feast together. Together we starve, together we fight. It is as we always have been: together, or not at all.”
“Thank you,” Pensword said. “I am barely into my twenties, I think, and I am still learning.” He looked up at her, his face serious. “Will you forgive your foalish husband?”
“I’ll have to.” She smiled, brushing his chin with a wing. “It’s far too late to change.”
Pensword smiled and opened his good wing to hug his Life Mate. “My Thestral,” he began. “I ... if you or I must fall in battle, I shall now hope that we fight side by side from now on.” He frowned. “How is Moon River?”
“She’s been moody without you around, but is currently on a playdate with the cake twins,” Lunar Fang said.
“Yeah, compared to her mount, that is nothing.” He paused. “I wonder if Grif would let us use Sylvio as the mount for a warrior costume for Moon River next Nightmare Night.” Pensword slowly shifted his head to look at the blade as he grit his teeth. “What do you have planned now?” He asked his lifemate.
“Grif has been tearing his crest feathers out trying to get things organized,” she said. “He needs me back at New Unity.”
“Very well. I hope to return to your side in three more days,” Pensword replied with a bow of his head. “Once again, if you want to follow through on your threat of time served, you can.”
“We shall see,” the Thestral said as she removed her sword from the floor and sheathed it. “Get some rest.”
Pensword smiled. “I will. I look forward to the day we can snuggle again together.”
“... So do I,” she responded as she walked out, closing the door behind her.
Conor strode to the desk escorted by Nurse Redheart. “Thanks so much, Redheart. I really appreciate the help you’ve given with my recovery,” he said as he brought a hand up to feel his nose again. He just couldn’t get over the fact it had grown broader. It felt so strange when he looked in a mirror.
“It’s no problem, really. Honestly, I’m kind of glad you’re leaving. Doctor Strange has been acting … well, strange, ever since you started the whole metamorphosis thing.”
“Yeah, still not quite feeling comfortable with all this, but at least I’m a bit more fit. And it doesn’t seem to be getting worse, so I guess Equestria finally had enough with me.”
“I guess.” Redheart shrugged as they approached the checkout.
“Hey, Red,” Grif called as he entered the hospital. “Oh, hey Conor. You already signing out?”
“Yeah. If I have Doctor Strange ask me one more time to be a focus for his studies, I think I might scream. I actually wanted to punch him. Me. Can you believe that?” Conor asked as he motioned to himself. “It’s a good thing Redheart did it for me.” Redheart blushed.
“Well, I was planning on visiting Shawn quickly before we left. Is that okay?” Grif asked.
“You bet. I’ve been wondering how he’s been doing. The Doc’s been keeping me a prisoner in my room the last few days. Just let me check out first.” The nurse at the desk handed him the clipboard and he started reading over the documents. “Wait a second,” Conor said as he tore off the paper. “This is a contract for a medical study!”
“Let me see that!” Redheart said as she snatchted the sheet. She looked at Conor, then back down, then she grit her teeth. “Excuse me, gentecolts, I have a rather pressing appointment with a certain unicorn who needs to get his horn on straight.” A red gleam had come into her eyes as she knocked her hooves together a couple of times. Then she trotted off. Conor signed the rest of the documents, then turned back to Grif with a smirk.
“How much you wanna bet we’re gonna be hearing a certain unicorn screaming in terror in the next half hour?” he asked.
“And I am going to smile the whole time,” Grif said. “That guy gives me the creeps.” He smiled. “So how’ve things been besides that? Honestly, it’s kinda sad how little time we’ve gotten to spend together since you got here.”
“Meh, it’s kinda boring, honestly. The only thing I could do to occupy myself was watch the clouds through the window, write, and stare at myself in the mirror. It still feels weird as all getout looking like this. Though I have to admit, the hair is nice. I missed the hair.
“You should have sent for books,” Grif said.
“Can’t read Equestrian yet. Still need to learn the rest of the alphabet and language. I’m getting better, but I’m still not quite there. What I should’ve done was send for my violin. That definitely would’ve helped pass the time,” Conor replied as the two walked up the stairs to the private rooms.
“Well, here’s Shawn’s room,” Grif said, gripping the handle. The gryphon opened the door and quickly, out of reflex, his empty talon shot up, grasping a syringe meters away from his face. A dart board hung on the door next to his head, covered in syringes, scalpels and other sharp throwable objects. “Well, that’s welcoming.”
“You caught Death off guard with that one,” Shawn replied simply. “So, how goes?”
“Pretty good, other than a certain doctor trying to trick me into being his personal guinea pig,” Conor said, shrugging. “Heya Death, pleased to meet you,” he said to the thin air.
“Death?” Grif asked, lifting an eyebrow.
“Yep. He took a break to keep me company…” Shawn replied.
“Not the weirdest thing I’ve heard this week.” Grif shrugged. “How are things going, Shawn?”
“Oh, you know, steadily waiting for the Thaumic field to connect itself back to the Equestrian field so I can walk without support.”
“Yeah, speaking of, Shawn, why didn’t you guys tell me about that?” Conor asked.
“Because you don’t have a Thaumic field,” Shawn said, lifting arm. His eyes began to glow as he examined the arm in question. “I took a look at you when you arrived, and I noticed you didn-” He looked over to Conor and broke off suddenly.
“Shawn? You need to stop with the pauses,” Grif said.
“Well, I’ll be damned.” Shawn looked over Conor, his eyes still glowing. “Congratulations.”
“... I wondered why my changes stopped,” Conor replied.
“Now you get to read the book that I haven’t finished translating.”
“Which is …?”
“The book explaining the Thaumic field you now have and how to use it.”
“Oh, so I basically have magic now?”
“Basically. Oh, and be sure to follow my warning in the book, because if you try any of the stuff in that book without me around, you might not live to regret it.”
“Okay. First, not quite sure I’m entirely comfortable with that. Second, thanks for the warning. I’ll keep that in mind,” Conor said.
“Don’t worry. As long as you don’t attempt anything in the book you’ll be fine.” Shawn gave a weak smile. “Just don’t pull a Twilight and we’ll be just fine.”
“Uh … do I even want to know what she did?”
“Yeah, she attempted to take the energy out of a flame. Nearly unmade herself and Golden Oaks. That's why I’m two lessons ahead of her now,” Grif said. “Seriously, what is it with ponies recently? When did I become the sensible one?”
“That’s partially accurate.”
“Is it seriously that potent?” Conor asked, surprised.
“With what I learned from that book, I could turn your entire body into energy,” Shawn told him.
“So it’s pretty much like ‘The Belgariad,’ only it doesn’t care who you target. It’ll just destroy whatever it can,” Conor said.
“It can do more than that,” Shawn replied. “Much more, but those chapters are going to remain untranslated.”
“Wise idea.” Conor nodded sagely.
“So…” Grif said as they walked. “Did Twilight have any ideas about the half unicorn thing?”
“I haven’t really talked with her about it. Last time I saw her, she was considering having Celestia and Luna make a disguise bracelet like you guys have so I can switch to a form Equestria won’t try to change. Honestly, I’m a little worried how she might react if she were to see me like this. Based on what little I’ve seen of the show, in that way at least, she and Doctor Strange can be very much alike.”
“Except she is genuinely trying to help, while I’m pretty sure that guy just likes making people suffer,” Grif said. “Any part of Ponyville you were interested in before we head back?”
“You want my honest opinion? Probably a bit of everything. I’d love to go to the school, the arcade, maybe the town hall. You know, all the great sights.”
Grif grinned. “Conor, you just made my day. I need to pick up some stuff from Bon Bon’s Bonbons. Other than that, we can go anywhere you want,” Grif said as they made their way into the heart of the town. “It’s actually a lot bigger than it appeared in the show.”
“You don’t say.” Conor smiled nervously as the ponies stared at him. Said ponies proceeded to shrug and go about their business. At least he didn’t seem to be destroying the town.
Grif stopped at the candy store he mentioned. “Anything you want?” he asked as they entered. Bon Bon greeted Grif with a nod before heading in the back for something.
Conor gawked at the cornucopia of sweets. “Where do I begin?”
“I can assure you, it’s all good.” Grif smiled as the earth pony came back out with several small square boxes. “Thanks for getting these.” He nodded to her as he put the boxes in his bag. He placed a small bag of bits on the counter. “And these are for your discretion with the situation.”
Bon Bon beamed and nodded. “I handle these sorts of things all the time. Give my best to Shrial.”
“Um … hi,” Conor said shyly as he walked up to the counter.
“Hi. Welcome to Bon Bon’s Bonbons. I’m Bon Bon.” She smiled at him. “Grif mentioned he’d be bringing you by, Conor.” She motioned towards the shelves “Go ahead, pick anything. It’s all hoof made.”
“Um … Can I get some orange cream fudge, some caramels, some salt water taffy, and some jelly beans?”
“Would you like me to throw a little of everything in a bag for you?” she asked him.
“If you mean a little of everything I asked for, sure. I don’t want to be too greedy,” Conor said, blushing violently beneath his fur.
“It’s no trouble, really.” Bon Bon laughed as she started packing up a bag of goodies. “Grif spends enough bits here a week to make up half my income. He doesn’t let me give him any extra, so I might as well give that good will to you.” She moved in quick order before handing Conor a large paper bag. “Pay it forward, you know?”
“Um … thank you. Are you sure?” He asked, squirming a little guiltily as he peeked into the bag.
“Believe me, if anything, your word of mouth should do wonders for my business. Any friend of these three would be better publicity than all the gossip rags from here to Manehattan.” She looked at the clock. “I should start getting things ready for when school lets out for the day. See you colts later.” And with that the mare vanished into the back room.
Grif chuckled as he headed out the door. “I swear for everything that makes Canterlot horrible, there is something that makes this town amazing.”
“You don’t say. I thought Canterlot was supposed to be exciting to visit,” Conor said as he bit into a handful of jelly beans.
“Conor, has Grif given you the impression that he’s an upper class kind of gryphon? Or did Taze ever come across to you as the high society type?” The gryphon shot the human a blank look. “I’m not exactly made for hanging around the rich and aristocratic.”
“I meant more along the lines of a tourist aspect, but I see your point. Is Blueblood really as bad as the show made him out to be?”
“Pretty sure he’s just an idiot. Shawn believes his father's pulling the strings behind the scenes. But not like they’re a real threat anyway,” Grif said casually, nodding to ponies as they headed to the school ground. “Might as well see if Ruby needs a ride home. Berry works late tonight, I think.”
“Great. That means I get the chance to really meet all the foals. And Miss Cheerilee to boot. She seems like such a nice teacher,” Conor said, smiling.
Grif winced a bit. “Depends on how she views you,” he said. “We didn’t really have the best start.”
“Oh come on, it can’t have been that bad, can it?”
“You realise you're comparing real life to a show about colorful cartoon ponies, right?” Grif asked. “These ponies have stresses, fears, and biases like any other living being.”
“Well, here’s hoping I can make a good impression then.” Conor furrowed his brow as he cupped an ear. “... Do you hear that?”
Grif’s face switched to one of confusion for a moment and then to anger. “Great, she’s at it again.” Grif rolled his eyes, then looked at Conor. “Keep your voice down. Past three times I nearly caught her in the act she got out just before I got there.” Grif’s body slid into an entirely different sort of stance, his weight shifting fluidly as talons and paws seemed to slide across the ground like a lion stalking prey.
Conor grimaced as the cry of “Blank flank, blank flank,” echoed over and over again. It was a voice the human had not heard on television before, but the tone and intent made it quite obvious what was going on. As he snuck behind the gryphon, he did his best to remain silent as the pair approached a set of bushes near a copse of trees that had been planted by the school.
Peering through the gaps, Conor could just make out the setting in the clearing. Six foals stood there, four facing two. The CMC and Dinky were easy enough to identify, but the grey foal with the bulky blue glasses and the pink foal with the purple and white streaked mane were unidentifiable. Well, maybe not completely unidentifiable. Those sneers brought back some rather unpleasant High School memories for the human. A flapping flash of red caught his eye as he noticed what appeared to be some sort of flags caught in the bow of one of the trees. A bright yellow CMC was embroidered boldly in their centers.
“Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon.” Grif’s voice was very faint, but Conor could still make out the hiss of loathing as he spoke.
“Oh, look at the blank flank climbing the tree like a dirty little monkey,” Diamond Tiara mocked as Dinky slowly shuffled up the trunk to retrieve the capes.
“Maybe you’ll get your cutie mark in being a monkey,” Silver Spoon parroted. The purplish grey foal gave an impressive look of disregard as she inched up the tree’s trunk. She had reached the branch now and slowly edged her way along it, doing her best not to tremble as she focused on her goal. Unfortunately, just as she was about to reach the first of the capes, her body shifted just a little too much. Like a man in a logrolling contest, she began to tilt, and ultimately fall as a flailing hoof barely managed to grasp a cape. Grif was gone before Conor fully realized he had moved, catching the foal before she hit the ground. Gently, he placed her down before retrieving the other capes. Returning them to their true owners, he turned to Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon. The look on his face frightened Conor to the point he worried his friend may not be in control.
“What in Tartarus’ name do you think you were doing?” The loathing was practically dripping from Grif’s voice as he spoke. Turning to the tree, he started laying into it with his talons, sending bits of bark and wood everywhere.
Silver Spoon quailed, shaking in her hooves. Diamond Tiara screamed as the CMC looked on, eyes wide and mouths open. Dinky was the only exception. She simply stared sadly and bowed her head.
From the schoolhouse, Cheerilee exited at a fast trot as she looked around. “Grif!” She shouted, grabbing the warrior’s attention with her commanding voice. His eyes flashed with suppressed fury as he turned to face her. “What is going on here?” She held a hoof up. “You first!” She glared, matching the warrior’s anger.
“I was heading to the school to see if Ruby wanted a ride home, seeing as berry was working late tonight.” Grif took several deep breaths against the tree. Slowly, the anger began to drain. “I came upon these two taunting Dinky, who was attempting to climb the tree to get the capes that had been stranded in it. Dinky slipped and started to fall. I barely got to her in time. If I hadn’t been here ...” He stared at the two offending fillies.
“And why were the capes in the tree in the first place?” She asked, turning to look at Dinky. “You know one of you could have gone to get me, or Rainbow Dash.”
“It was -” Diamond Tiara started
“Hold it,” Cheerilee spoke, holding a hoof up. “I did not ask you the question, Diamond Tiara. You’ll get your chance after Dinky gives her side of the story.” She turned to Dinky and her voice softened. “Please take your time. But wait one moment first.” She turned to Grif. “You all are going to march back to the school house so we can speak in private.”
“This isn’t going anywhere until you send for Time Turner, Rarity, Rainbow Dash, and Applejack. And I also what the parents of… those two.” He spat the words like he had eaten some rotten meat. “I don’t want this to have a chance to be buried.”
“Very well.” Cheerilee responded with a weary sigh. “Dinky, will you go and get everypony for me?” She turned back to Grif. “As hectic as this is likely to be, for once, I agree with your logic. I’m tired of this going in circles.”
Conor walked out of the brush, his white coat glinting in the sun alongside his newly grown hair. “Miss Cheerilee? Hi, I’m Conor. You might remember me from Grif’s wedding a few weeks back?” He plopped his bag of sweets down in front of the CMC. “Here, guys. I think you could use a little something to steady the nerves. Take your pick.” He smiled sympathetically at them, a sad look in his eyes as he let loose a heavy sigh.
“Uh, Mr. Conor, could you hold off? We’re in the middle of a rather delicate situation, and while I do appreciate your kindness, now might not be the best moment for sweets,” Cheerilee said, doing her best to keep her voice calm and collected.
“On the contrary, this is the perfect time. These foals were nearly traumatized. And I’m a key witness, so I intend to sit in on the meetings.” Diamond Tiara balked while Silver Spoon looked guiltily at the ground.
“Is this true?” She asked Grif.
“And a completely unbiased one to boot,”Conor said, smiling weakly. “Trust me, Miss Cheerilee, I don’t like conflict any more than you do.”
Cheerilee pointed dangerously at the somewhat human. “If I find out you’re lying, I’m kicking your flank right out of my school.”
“And if I find your judgement lacking, I’ll invoke my right as Hammer Strike’s proxy to have this matter taken before an official magistrate,” Grif returned. “Conor lies like Applejack.”
“Excuse me?” Conor exclaimed, turning his head to the Gryphon. “Since when have I lied to you?”
“See? Point proven. Let’s get this settled,” Grif said, lifting the CMC on his back and headed towards the schoolhouse without waiting for a response. The girls happily chomped away at the offered candy. Diamond Tiara walked daintily behind, her head held proudly as Silver Spoon trailed behind her, ears bent and crestfallen.
“He’s just through there.” Nurse Tenderheart waved her hoof in the direction of Shawn’s room.
“Thank you, Tenderheart,” Rarity said, nodding to the nurse as she headed down the hall. She was somewhat ashamed. She hadn’t actually visited Shawn in the entire time he’d been in the hospital, but the white unicorn had not been able to get herself over the image of the corrupted Shawn standing there in the courtyard. The look on his face and the darkness in his voice had shaken her to her very core. She turned to face the door, breathing deeply to regain her composure as she reached up a hoof to knock.
“You don’t have to knock,” Shawn called through the door.
“How did you know I was here?” Rarity asked as she opened the door.
“I heard you walking towards the room,” he replied with a grin. “Hello, Rarity. How are you?”
“I’m fine. And yourself, Lord Shawn?” she asked.
“I’m fine. Just recovering. And please, there’s no need for titles,” he said.
“So what did happen to you?” Rarity asked. “I’ve heard the others saying things, but I’d prefer to hear from you directly.”
“I was overtaken by my own Thaumic field because of Discord overloading it with chaotic energy,” He replied, shrugging. “Long story short, the dark part of my mind was up front and in control.”
“So Discord was at fault?”
“About eighty percent his fault.”
“And the other twenty?” she faltered.
“As said, it was my mind. Thus, it somewhat was me.” Shawn sighed. “I held back everything I could, but in the end I had little to no control of that part of me.”
“I’m sorry you had to go through that,” Rarity said as she approached the prone human.
“At least it didn’t kill me, er... Well, it did technically.”
“... Would you have killed us? If you could, I mean.”
“If I had no control, possibly. But the more likely scenario would have been…” He thought to himself for a moment. “Knocking out at worst. At least, I would hope.”
“So then, how long before you're back to normal?” she shuffled a hoof.
“It’ll be another week before I can stand without support. And even then, I’ll most likely need a cane or something to lean on.”
“Is there anything I can do for you?” she asked him.
After a moment of thinking, he responded. “If possible, could you get me a cane? I have bits inside my coat that you can take to buy one.” He shrugged. “I might need it when I leave, so I might as well get one now.”
“No trouble. I’ll make sure to find you something appropriate.” She smiled, making no effort to head towards the bits indicated.
“I know what you’re thinking right now, and trust me-” he grinned. “It won’t last long.”
“Grif has been instructing me in swordplay. Sometimes it takes numerous small victories to achieve a much larger one.” She smiled.
Shawn gave a soft laugh, shaking his head. “We’ll see how long that lasts.”
“Yes. Yes, we will. So, is there anything else you might need?”
“Food that doesn’t screech when I prod it with a spoon. From what Death himself told me, it had a soul.”
Rarity just stopped, her jaw hanging open. “I’m not quite sure how to respond to that.”
“It’s hospital food. It’s best to try and avoid it.”
A tiny knock drew the two’s attention toward the door as Dinky slowly walked in.
“Um, sorry to interrupt, but Miss Cheerilee asked me to fetch you, Rarity. … It’s pretty serious.” She frowned.
Pensword sniffed in pain as a nurse pushed his wheelchair towards the front of hospital. He looked around for Lunar Fang, hoping she would be showing up to pick him up.
The sound of rapid hoofbeats heralded the mare’s arrival as she galloped into view. “Sorry. Sorry I’m late.” Lunar Fang’s torso heaved as she gasped for breath.
The nurse smiled as she handed some papers to her. “His discharge paperwork and information. He’s on a mild muscle relaxant, so he needs to rest. I’m afraid he’s still three weeks away from returning to full active duty. So spend time together, take him to a park with his daughter, and just be with him.” The nurse smiled at Lunar Fang. “You are one Lucky Mare, you know that? You’re all he ever talks about.” Pensword blushed violently.
“Oh, I know I am.” She smiled, taking the papers and signing in the designated fields.
“Thank you.” The nurse took the release forms and gave some papers with instructions for the medication to Lunar Fang. “Here you are. You can take him home now. Just no flying, alright? And keep him sitting or lying as much as possible. I’d recommend calling a coach. He won’t be able to walk the distance to the castle.”
“Of course. Thank you.” Lunar Fang nodded and leaned over her husband. “You ready?”
“I am, dear.” He smiled up at her from his seat. “I am happy to be going home.”
“Moon River will be happy to see you, too.” She laughed as they headed out the door and into the afternoon sun.
“That is good. I have been missing her greatly. Thankfully, she is so young, I think she will be able to forgive me.”
“Just wait till the teenage years.” Lunar Fang laughed.
“I just hope we teach her correctly so those years will be at least a little bit easier. For her and for us,” Pensword responded with a smile.
“Do you need me to hire you a carriage?” Lunar Fang asked.
“I think that would be best. I would like to walk, but you heard the nurse.” Pensword sighed, then winced.
Ten minutes later Lunar Fang returned with a carriage pulled by two large stallions. In a matter of minutes the two of them were off. Once the two were situated, Pensword slowly shifted to a horizontal position, laying his head in Lunar Fang’s lap. He soon drifted off to sleep. Lunar Fang smiled as she ran her hooves through his mane. The wheelchair lay folded up on the other side of the buggy.
“Sleep well, my love. We’ll be home soon enough.”
Filthy Rich, Time Turner, Rarity, Applejack, Rainbow Dash, Cheerilee, Conor, Grif, and Silver Spoon’s parents all sat in a circle looking to one another. The CMC, Silver Spoon, and Diamond Tiara had been sequestered individually to avoid any potential for false stories and collaboration.
Sterling Silver, a large stallion wearing a protective smock, stood scrutinizing the two witnesses with a skilled eye. The marks of the forge shone clearly on his fur, a light grey accented by specks of Silver where the forge’s sparks had hit him in his youth brought out the Silver in his mane as it shone in the afternoon light filtering through the window. His heavy set brow was trapped in a permanent scowl from the careful inspections he placed in his works. His cutie mark, a large swage block with a hammer leaning against it.
“What’s all this about, Miss Cheerilee?” He asked with a deep voice.
“Yes, what’s happened with Silver Spoon?” Silver Chalice, Silver Spoon’s mother, asked. An intricately engraved, bejeweled goblet stood boldly on her flank as a small chisel lay against it, applying the finishing touches.
“She and Diamond Tiara have both been accused of bullying. They were present when I found them with Grif. Some personal articles had mysteriously found their way into the trees for some reason, and the foals were very upset.” Cheerilee’s voice remained calm and collected. “The capes are folded on the table behind you. It seems that the bullying has escalated to the point of stealing and attempting to damage property, which is a little more serious than verbal abuse. We’re here to ascertain what really happened and to find out what course of action to take based on that evidence.” She paused to drink from a glass of water.
“And as Cheerilee so kindly left out,” Grif broke in. “Dinky Doo Whooves nearly fell trying to retrieve said capes from a height that most certainly would guarantee serious injury if not possible death.”
“I was about to get to that, Grif,” she said gravely. Time turner’s neck tensed. “I needed a drink of water first. But what Grif says appears to be true. I found Dinky on Grif’s back shortly after a scream drew my attention to the clearing where they had been standing.
“My goodness,” Rarity said, taken aback by Cheerilee’s words. “Filthy, if I might be so bold, might I remind you that had that filly been injured, or worse, your filly and yourself would likely be held legally responsible.”
“Fortunately, that didn’t happen. But there are still damages that have been done which nopony here can see. Trust me, I speak from experience,” Conor said.
“Now I think it might be best if we all dial it back a mite here,” Applejack said. “And we can hear this whole story from everypony.”
“Agreed,” Cheerilee said. “I think it would be best if we heard from Dinky first. Then we’ll call in the others one at a time: Diamond Tiara, Scootaloo, Silver Spoon, Sweetie Belle, Grif, Applebloom, and finally Conor.”
“And how does he play into all of this?” Silver Chalice asked, pointing to the semi-human.
“He was a witness to the events with Grif,” Cheerilee responded.
“Oh.” Silver Chalice rubbed her hooves nervously as Sterling placed a comforting hoof over her back.
Several minutes later, the adults sat in a circle surrounding Dinky, who sat at her desk nervously. Her father sat beside her supportively. “Go on love, lets get this settled then,” he spoke softly.
“We’d brought our capes to school because we were planning to crusade right after class. But when we went to get them from the coat room, they were missing. We asked around and looked all over, but we couldn't find them until featherweight came back cause he forgot his lunchbox and he told us he’d seen the capes in a tree outside. When we went to look, we found them like he’d said, and Diamond Tiara’s butler was just finishing tying them off. Then he climbed down and ran away.
“I tried to get to the capes before Sweetie Belle started crying, but then Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon came to the tree and they started calling me names and saying things like I should get a monkey for a cutie mark. I was near the top when my hoof slipped and I fell. Thankfully, Mr.Grif managed to catch me before I hit the ground. He got the capes back, but when he landed he was angry. He roared at Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon, and then he attacked a tree,” she said. “But he did that because he was scared and I forgive him for that.” She smiled at Grif, who stood there for a moment as shame and pride warred savagely inside his head. Eventually pride won out and he gave the young filly a smile in thanks.
“Thank you, Dinkie. You can go back to your room. We’ll come and get you once we finish with the others, okay?” Cheerilee said. Dinkie nodded and left, smiling. As soon as the door closed and they were certain the foal had gone, Silver Chalice chimed in.
“You don’t actually believe our little Silver Spoon would act that way, do you?” Silver Chalice asked, frantic as she looked pleadingly into Cheerilee’s eyes.
“We raised her to be better than that,” Sterling said, his voice deep as he punctuated the statement with an equine snort.
“Are you calling my daughter a liar? I can see why Grif asked me to come. Be happy it wasn’t my wife,” Time Turner said.
“Dinky doesn’t lie, lady,” Rainbow Dash was suddenly in Silver Chalice’s face. Sterling Silver gently pushed the pegasus back.
“I would appreciate it if you could please keep your distance from my wife. She’s fragile,” Sterling said.
“This isn’t getting us anywhere, Rainbow. Calm down. Let’s hear what the others have to say first before we start pointing fingers and hooves,” Conor suggested.
“I agree,” Cheerilee said. “Let’s hear what the other foals have to say first. We can come to a consensus after.”
“... Fine.” Rainbow Dash harumphed, settling back down into her chair.
Diamond Tiara stood defiantly before the adults, sniffing with disdain. The others had already been interviewed. It was time for the accused to step up to the plate. “It’s like I tried to say before. Silver Spoon and I walked into the clearing when Dinky was climbing the tree. They were probably trying to do something to get their cutie marks like they always do and something went wrong. You all remember what happened when Applebloom got the cutie pox. And then there’s the stuff with the tree sap. Need I go on?”
Filthy Rich nodded his head. “I do recall, as well as the terror they’ve caused the residents in town whenever they get a large scale event going on.” He frowned. “We all know what they’re good at. It’s just a waiting game for them to just see what we see. The sooner, the better, and less chances of property damage.”
“Life is a journey, not a destination,” Grif growled.
“A journey that appears to be out to create havoc for all of us here,” Filthy retorted. “I think Cheerilee’s nerves will calm down once they find their cutie marks.” He turned back to Diamond Tiara with a loving smile. “Now dear, please go back to your room while we discuss what you’ve brought before us.” Diamond Tiara nodded her head and left the room, a smug smile on her face as she closed the door behind her.
“If that girl weren’t lyin’ then she was a bendin’ the truth worse ‘n a hogtyin’ lasso on a Thursday.”
“I’ve done my utmost to make her speak honest words in my presence and in her life. If she is lying, then so are the others. The truth has to be a combination of the two stories,” Filthy retorted with a snort.
“... As much as I hate to admit it, it’s possible he could be correct. Most of the time back home, this was the case. However, I would like to point out that I’ve also seen cases where one side really was telling the truth in its entirety while the other sought to twist it to their advantage. We’re going to have to weigh the evidence very carefully if we’re going to get the answers we need. And that means we need to keep our minds open. All of us,” Conor said, looking to each of the ponies and gryphon present. “Miss Cheerilee, is there anyone else you wanted to hear from before we begin the discussions?”
“No, we’ve all heard the stories. Let’s move on to the deliberations,” Cheerilee responded.
“Alright, so what do we know?” Conor asked. “First, Grif and I came across the foals in the clearing. Second, Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon seemed to be mocking Dinky as she climbed the tree. There are multiple accounts of this event, and even Silver Spoon quailed when asked about it, so I think we can be fairly confident that particular moment really happened, and likely was viewed in the proper light. Can we all agree on this?”
“Makes sense,” Apple Jack commented.
“... We don’t want to believe it, but the way Silver Spoon acted, she certainly seems frightened of something.” Sterling Silver sighed heavily.
“Dear, you can’t mean our daughter would-”
“Weren’t we all like that at one point, Silver? You know the signs just as well as I do. The only reason she’d be afraid is if she had something to hide.”
Silver Chalice teared up. “ But how could she? She’s always the sweetest thing at home.”
“There is such a thing as a double life,” Grif said. “She may be the sweetest little thing when she’s in front of you, or when Diamond Tiara isn’t with her, but out in public, with her friend, she is nothing of the sort.”
“I object to such slander!” Filthy said. “Diamond may very well get a little out of hand on occasion, but she would never go so far as to try something like this. Putting a filly’s life in danger, it’s ridiculous. … I taught her better than that,” he said, his head dropping as his voice grew more quiet.
“Really?” Rarity looked at him with a raised brow. “I happen to know she has been reprimanded on three separate instances by Cheerilee for sending a filly home crying. And all three of these dates after you met with Cheerilee, you took your daughter for ice cream.” Rarity glared into Filthy Rich’s eyes. “It took me two weeks to convince Sweetie Belle she wasn’t an ‘ugly mistake of nature,’ as your daughter so elegantly put it.”
Filthy winced. “I thought I’d told Precious to be more careful when she spoke with her secretary.”
“So you admit that your daughter would have heard this sort of language around the home?” Conor asked.
“... Regrettably, yes.”
“She also tried to convince Apple Bloom that Granny Smith was senile before family appreciation day,” Applejack pointed out.
“As much as we’d like to talk about past events, I think we need to focus on the present. So let’s get back to the task at hand. We know that Dinky fell and Grif saved her. This was verified by multiple witnesses, including myself, whom, might I add, has never met Diamond Tiara before. So nobody can call me a biased party here,” Conor said pointedly as he looked first to Filthy Rich, then to Silver Spoon’s parents, and lastly to Cheerilee.
“Were the capes checked for loose hairs or anything that might tie them to another pony?” Rarity asked.
“No, we thought it best to wait until everypony was gathered before we looked at anything, just to be on the safe side,” Cheerilee said.
“Well then, perhaps we should take a look, hmm?” Time Turner spoke up.
“Miss Cheerilee, if you would,” Conor said, motioning to the capes. “It seems only right since you’re the teacher here.”
Cheerilee nodded as she moved over to the capes in question. She unfurled each of them, flapping them in the air before laying them down on the table. “There we go,” she said.
They split into groups, each selecting a cape to examine. Before they could even begin, however, Rarity screamed. “My gold! My golden silk. I-i-it’s gone!” She rushed up to Cheerilee, her expression one of desperation. “Do you have any idea what this could do to my business? If someone were to analyze it and recreate my process, why, I’d be ruined. Ruined, I tell you!” She shook Cheerilee like a ragdoll as she fell into her worry. “Out of all the worst things that could happen, this is the worst possible thing!”
“Rarity, I sense your urgency, but Cheerilee probably can’t do anything with you shaking her,” Grif said as he gently separated the two. He picked up the cape Rarity had held and examined it. “She’s right. These capes were lined entirely on the inside with gold silk. It’s been removed.”
“Obviously, Randolph must have taken the gold for himself and run off. It would explain why he tied the capes to the tree in the first place. It would make a good distraction while he made his getaway,” Filthy said.
“Was the butler in the classroom today?” Grif asked Cheerilee in a hushed tone.
Cheerliee barely shook her head. “If he was here, he was waiting somewhere out of sight. But that’s simply not possible,” she whispered back.
“So then, Mr.Rich, you are saying Randolph, the butler under your employ, was the one who removed the silk?” Grif asked to make sure.
“I’m saying it’s a distinct possibility,” Filthy said. “I don’t see why he would tie those capes to a tree otherwise.”
“Then, Mr.Rich, seeing as the capes would have had to have been removed prior to school going out for the day, and considering the time it would take for a stallion of randolph’s age and build to scale such a tree even with his acrobatic abilities taken into account, it seems to me he would still have need of an accomplice for his plan. Otherwise, he would have been found outright and the crime averted.”
“He does have a point, Mr. Rich,” Conor said. He sighed. “Time for the ugly questions. Who would have had access to the closet and been able to remove the capes without being noticed?”
“Elementary, my dear Omni,” Grif said astutely. “It was the foals that have access to their belongings. Therefore, it was a foal who is our accomplice.”
“Just to double check here, Miss Cheerilee, are there any other teachers who work with you here in the school?” Conor asked.
“No, it’s just me,” she said. “I still can’t believe somepony in my class would have done something like this.”
Conor looked on the teacher with gravity. “Believe it, Miss Cheerilee. It’s sad, but it’s true. The question is who.”
“I think we should examine the bags of the accused in this matter first. Cheerilee, if you would bring in Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon and have them bring their school bags, we will examine them,” Grif said.
Cheerilee nodded grimly as she left the room. A few minutes later, Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon walked slowly in as Cheerilee nudged them. “Go on. It’ll just take a few minutes,” she said.
Silver Chalice looked on Silver Spoon. “It’s going to be alright, honey.” She smiled. “We’re almost done here.” Silver spoon nodded, her knees knocking. Diamond Tiara remained the essence of poise as she looked confidently at the adults.
“I already know I have nothing to worry about. I’ve got nothing to hide.” Diamond Tiara smiled.
“Then if you two would be willing to hand over your saddle bags?” Conor asked, motioning to Cheerilee. The teacher grabbed the satchels in question and laid them on the table next to the capes. “Should we bring the other children in as well? Or leave it at these two for now?”
“I think it’s a matter of safety and plausible deniability,” Grif said. “We wouldn’t want anyone reacting badly, or giving a guilty party the ability to claim foul play.”
“Then they stay where they are.” Cheerilee nodded grimly. “Let’s get this over with. Conor, if you would?”
Conor nodded as he opened Diamond Tiara’s sack first. Inside was a mane brush, some bits, a make up kit, and a spare tiara. Cheerilee rolled her eyes at the lack of school books.
“Hmm…” Grif casually took a look into the bag, scanning it for false stitches or hidden pockets. He shrugged. “It’s clear.”
Filthy let out a sigh of relief.
“Time for part two.” Conor sighed as he opened the sacks and looked in, his stomach tied in knots. “... I hate when I’m right,” he said, his head hanging low.
Grif looked inside. “Gold silk,” he said, pulling out a sheet as a united series of gasps filled the room.
“But … but that’s not possible,” Silver Spoon said. “I-I didn’t do it!”
“Applejack?” Grif asked as he started pulling out the other sheets and laying them on a nearby table.
“Conor, you take those two. I’ll take these two. Search them for any other clues,” Grif said.
“You got it, chief,” Conor responded as he picked up the pieces of fabric and started to scrutinize them.
Grif scanned his sheets carefully, looking for anything out of place and trying to pick up any scents. Hunting by scent was still unusual to the gryphon, but it was something he’d been getting the hang of.
As Conor looked over the gold, a single stray glint of color caught his eye, only for a moment, but it was enough. He immediately set to work laying the cloth down as he ran his hands over it in search of what he knew must be there. He’d had enough experience with dogs and his sister to know where this would lead.
“Grif, check the cloth for hairs. Anything from a mane, or a tail. We need samples to compare and contrast,” Conor said as he triumphantly held a shiny purple hair in the air, about a half a foot in length.
“Can you pass me Diamond Tiara’s brush, please?” Grif asked as he took the hair between his talons. Cheerilee immediately did so. Diamond Tiara didn’t look so confident anymore.
“The scent’s the same, as is the color and texture. It seems that Diamond Tiara had intimate contact with this silk,” Grif said, examining the hairs.
“... Care to explain, Diamond?” Conor asked.
“... It probably transferred when they were putting them away. The coat room isn’t exactly the largest place in the world, ya know.” Diamond huffed indignantly.
“On the inner lining?” Conor asked, raising a critical eyebrow. “Last I checked, that would normally be on the foals’ flanks. The only way I could see of your own hairs getting there is if, at the very least, you snuck them on your own back out of jealousy.”
“I think in the interests of pursuing an unbiased scientific route, we should consult an expert to determine the last time the capes, either whole or apart, had been worn.” Grif turned to Rarity. “Madam, if you would.”
“Now hold on a minute. You’re asking a biased party to perform the investigation. She can’t be neutral in this affair. We need someone else,” Filthy said adamantly.
“Are you questioning an element of harmony, Mr. Rich?” Grif asked. “Are you questioning the honesty of the element of generosity, who has saved Equestria three times from certain doom, has a spotless reputation in her industry, and, might I add, the personal ear to the princess herself?”
“This involves her family. I don’t object to her morality, but I do object to neutrality,” Filthy responded.
“Couldn’t Applejack just tell if she’s lying anyways?” Conor asked.
“Well, Filthy? Are you going to also doubt the honesty of an Apple?” Grif pressed the point. Filthy huffed angrily, his face contorted into one of anguish and frustration. Grif had caught him.
“Very well,” Filthy ground. “Proceed.”
Rarity took the silk into her magical grip. Concentrating, she moved the gold, carefully analyzing it for something that no one else in the room could frankly figure out. After a good twenty minutes she set them down and shook her head. “These haven’t been worn for a good six hours, possibly longer,” Rarity noted.
“So that begs the question then. How did Diamond Tiara’s hair get on them? Unless she herself was the accomplice.” Conor looked like he was about to say more, but thought better of it as he held his peace.
“Which means, my dear Omni, that either Silver Spoon is a master actress, which I’m guessing she isn’t?” Grif asked, looking at Cheerilee and her parents.
Cheerilee opened her muzzle a little. “Well, she was voted best actress by the class in the last pageant ...” She looked at Grif. “Sorry, but you did ask.”
Sterling Silver remained silent as he looked to his wife with a flat expression.
“Applejack did say she wasn’t lying. So our Silver Spoon has to be innocent, right?” Silver Chalice asked.
“Then that can only mean one thing.” Grif walked away from the crowd before turning dramatically. “Silver Spoon … WAS FRAMED!” His words were followed by a loud crash of thunder. Stopping for a minute the ponies looked out the window to see rain “Huh. I didn’t realise the pegasi planned for a shower today.”
Rainbow looked to her watch. “They weren’t supposed to start for another hour! Wait til I get a hold of those ponies …” Rainbow said ominously.
“Diamond Tiara, would you care to explain?” Cheerilee asked in a cold tone of voice. All heads turned to the young foal. Silver Spoon had walked over to her parents and stared from behind her father’s flank.
The young foal trembled as she looked around the room. Whether in rage, betrayal, fear, or something in between could not be told. In truth, the emotions seemed to race eternally round her face and within her eyes as she turned to each of the adults in question and glared at the young foal. She shook her head, turned up her nose, and closed her eyes to hide the tears.
“Cheerilee, a word over there if you will.” Grif waved to the corner of the room. Without waiting for a response he headed for said corner. Cheerilee huffed as she plodded behind.
“Yes, Grif?” She asked.
“Listen, Silver Spoon has been through alot, and I think the CMC are probably exhausted by now. There’s enough here to see Diamond Tiara is the culprit, so why don’t you let the others go and then you and Filthy can work out a fitting punishment for this. I can’t see him trying anything stupid at this point.”
“You make a fair point,” She responded. “But I do think we should keep all the parents here, or at least one from each family. They’ll likely want to stay no matter what we do anyways.”
“Are the CMC suspects?” Grif asked blatantly.
“No, but the parent figures have a right to weigh in on the punishment, don’t you think?”
“Rarity, maybe, but Applejack and Rainbow Dash trust you enough to handle things here. And I think we’d best be letting Dinky get home before Derpy finds out her daughter was in danger,” Grif said. “Do you really have the budget for an angry Derpy?”
“... You have a point.” Cheerilee turned to the gathered ponies. “Thank you, everypony, for coming to help sort this out. I’m going to send the children home now. If any of you would like to accompany them, or have other engagements, I understand. Filthy and I will work together to decide what disciplinary action to take.”
“I’m staying too,” Sterling Silver huffed. “Dear, you take little Silver home. I’ll be along shortly. He nuzzled his wife, then his daughter as he smiled at her. Silver Spoon nodded as her mother led her out, taking her bags in muzzle before placing them on her own back.
“Let’s go home, dear,” Silver Chalice said, leading the filly with a loving gaze as the doors shut behind them. Applejack, Rainbow Dash, and Rarity soon followed as the unicorn picked up the cloths in her magic. “I’ll take these back to my shop. Sweetie Belle and the others will doubtless want them back as soon as possible.” The other adults noded their assent. The trial was finished. Now all that was left was the sentencing. Rarity left gracefully as she went out the door. She turned back to Diamond but once, let loose a “humph” of disdain, and then trotted off to get her sister.
“Is that everyone?” Conor asked.
“WHERE IS SHE?” a familiar voice bellowed as a loud crash signaled the breaking of the school’s front doors. Cheerliee winced alongside The Doctor as Derpy Hooves charged through the halls before breaking down the door where they met. She stood heaving with her head hung low, wings splayed out in an aggressive posture. “WHERE IS THE FOOL WHO HURT MY MUFFIN?”
“... Oh dear,” Conor said.
“Took the words right out of my mouth,” Grif agreed.
A week and a half later, Shawn stood before the pharmacy counter, glad to finally be able to return to New Unity. He waited patiently as the nurse read off the necessary instructions. “The current medication that you’ll be taking does have a few side effects, most notable being drowsiness, irritability, and, rarely, hallucinations. You just need to take it if you begin to feel pain, but don’t take more than two within five hours. Any questions?” the nurse asked, holding out the bottle of pills to the human.
Shawn took ahold of the bottle, placing it inside his coat pocket. “Not that I can think of,” he replied as he leaned on the cane in his right hand. “Thanks for the help.”
“No problem. We hope you have a pleasant day.”
“You as well,” he replied as he turned and moved towards the door, a click accompanying every other step as the cane made impact with the tile. Opening the door he took a step out into the partially rainy, partially sunny day.
Looking around the patchwork sky with its mixed up weather patterns, he reached into his coat once more and pulled out the bottle of painkillers he’d been given. He looked to the label, then back to the sky. “And rarely, hallucinations…” He frowned. “Just how strong are these things?” He muttered to himself as he continued on his way.
Pensword paused in his patrol along the wall of the New Unity. He’d been doing better the last couple of weeks, though he still could not fly just yet. He smiled. “Shawn should be getting out today ... I think.” He pondered for a moment. “Lunar Fang?” he called out. “When Shawn gets out, the hospital will contact us, right?”
“I think so,” Lunar Fang replied as they looked over to Ponyville. A harsh crack of thunder mixed with hail, rain, and other precipitation alongside the square patches of sunlight bleeding through the clouds left both off kilter. She frowned. “Are you seeing the weather pattern I’m seeing, dear?”
“I believe so… How many should I send in to investigate?” Pensword responded.
“I’ll go and see if Thalia can send a few Gryphons to look into it,” Lunar Fang said. “Anything powerful enough to mess with Pegasus magic should receive appropriate measures.”
“Of course,” Pensword replied. “Just, if that weather starts to to migrate over here, I am going to have to use the Pegasus magic to try and stall it before it makes a mess of New Unity.”
“I don’t think the forest will let itself be controlled,” Lunar Fang noted. “By your magic, or whatever that is.”
“True, but…” he paused looking to his life mate. “You’re not going to let me investigate the problem, are you?”
“The doctor said you're not green for any field work yet,” she reminded him. “I’m giving you a lot of leeway just letting you walk the walls as long as you do.”
“Well, the doctors did mention I need to exercise. You think tomorrow we can fly around a little? Just to the clouds above the castle? Or bring clouds down around the tower?”
“I suppose that wouldn’t be too bad,” Lunar Fang said. “But not until after you rest first.”
“Of course, dear,” Pensword replied with a nuzzle to her check.
“Now head inside. Your daughter wants to see you before her nap,” she said, nuzzling him back with a soft nicker.
“Will do.” Pensword let loose a goofy smile as he turned around and walked slowly towards the stairs.
Grif stood in the point center of the training ground with only a fencing epee in his hand. He held it erect in front of his face with his shoulders squared as he stood still, waiting. This was the stance commonly used for a starting position for Equestrian sport fencing. Surrounding Grif, several ponies and Gryphons stood armed with their various weapons.
Sadly, with the absence of a peer in swordplay, Grif had to resort to sharpening his senses through quick successive duels against multiple styles. With a nod of his head, he signaled the first one and the duel began. As Grif parried and dodged, he remembered back to the Gryphon that taught him to fight in the Northern Isles. The lessons had been long and brutal with Grif leaving the courtyard bloodied and bruised, sometimes in such pain that he could do little more then lay on his bed and let his body adjust. But such hardness had results. Grif had learned the importance of reading an opponent and moving to their intentions.
As Grif outed his third opponent, he also carried back to the five years he’d spent in House Strike before the Third Gryphon War, recalling how it had become necessary to learn the less violent art of dueling. Fortunately, the Gryphon had picked it up quickly, for the challenges came frequently and without mercy. Nobles and their proxies of other houses found insult in the mere presence of “Hammer Strike’s pet.” Grif smirked to himself as he fought. The ones who made it home usually did so with a newfound respect for the Gryphon’s skills.
“You're slipping,” Grif said to the Gryphon across from him, who was wielding a longsword. He locked the epee’s point inside the cross hilt and proceeded to disarm his opponent. He caught the longsword in his talons and held the two blades crossed before the Gryphon in front from him. “This isn’t working.” He sighed as he looked at the defeated sparring partners around him. “How do you improve without someone to challenge you?”
“Why not try another weapon?” one gryphoness suggested as she got up. “Perhaps in trying to adapt your style to work for something else, you’ll be able to come across mistakes you never realized.”
“Well that's a viable idea. I don’t like the idea of learning a skill only to have it languish from misuse,” Grif noted.
“Considering the fight we just had,” a Pegasus said as he worked his wings, checking them for anything more serious than a bruise. “That may be the only thing that works.”
“And what would you suggest I use?” Grif asked, seeing that his troops had some inkling of an idea. He noticed one Unicorn levitating one of the training weapons: a wooden representation of a blade staff. “Longer reach, but less speed. It means you need more technique to cancel out the handicap and will draw out the flaws better.”
“If I didn’t know any better,” Grif said, setting the epee down and taking the staff from the unicorn’s magic. He gave it a few experimental swings. “I’d say you planned this.”
“Making you pick up a weapon you don’t know how to fully use, meaning we’ll probably get to knock you to the dust for a while?” One gryphoness laughed as she readied her spear. “Whatever gave you that idea?”
“Winds damnit.” Grif smiled as he got into the best stance he could. “You guys are the best.” And then the pain began.
Shawn sighed to himself as he wandered the town. Part of him was wishing that the current weather conditions were just medically induced hallucinations, but after finding countless others questioning the patchwork sky, he knew it wasn’t just him.
Rarity had taken his coat and told him that she would repair the damage done to it and that he was to collect it from her shop when he was free from the hospital. Seeing her outside messing with the weather made him decide to just head to the shop, collect it himself, and perhaps leave something on the side for when she returned.
Upon reaching Rarity’s boutique he heard someone inside. Machines whirred incessantly and it sounded like whoever was at the wheel, so to speak, was struggling. “What has Sweetie Belle gotten herself into?” He muttered to himself as he walked towards the door.
What he didn’t expect was Applejack struggling to make an outfit rather than Sweetie Belle. His eyes trailed over to the countless… “outfits” that were scattered about. Worry settled into him as he searched frantically for his coat. He let loose a sigh of relief as he saw it waiting on the top of a shelf, already repaired.
“Uh, howdy,” Applejack said “Can I help you, Shawn?”
Shawn simply reached up, grabbing his coat off the shelf. “Collecting my coat. You, uh, need help with that?”
“You have no idea,” Applejack said. “Do you know anything about sewing machines?”
“Yeah, actually, though it’s been awhile,” he responded.
“Well that’s mighty nice to hear,” Applejack said as music started to play from some unseen location.
Before she even finished the first line, Shawn was already gone, muttering to himself about how that was a dealbreaker. His mind wandered over a few details of both Applejack and Rarity, both having one big difference about them. It didn’t take him long to arrive at the library. With a sense of urgency, he kicked the door open. “Twilight, what in the world have you done?” He shouted before he hunched over, groaning and leaning heavily on the cane in his right hand. “Shouldn’t have done that. Not at full strength…”
“Shawn? Shawn!” Twilight shouted, a mixture of excitement and worry edging her voice as she levitated a chair over for the human to sit in. “Since when did you get out of the hospital?”
“Less than an hour ago.”
“And you came here? You should be resting in New Unity!” She fussed as she muttered about getting pillows and a variety of other items while levitating them over to him. “I’m going to have to look at my medical journals. You could have seriously hurt yourself. Let’s see. Healing cuts, How to Cure Bruising in Manticores, oh, where is it?” she asked, worriedly as she teleported from shelf to shelf while hovering books in her telekinetic grasp.
“Twilight!” Shawn shouted, cutting her off. “Physical wounds are fine. Mine are currently magical. My field isn’t fully connected with the internal part of it.”
“Um … why should that matter?” Twilight asked after eeping and suddenly finding herself surrounded by a flurry of books scattered across the floor.
“Considering my fields were connected before the whole thaumic overtake deal, my body was running off the power of both. Right now, my body is only getting a tenth of what it normally used to keep my body going.”
“So it’s kind of like it’s starving?”
“Sure, we’ll go with that. Now, back on topic. What did you do?”
Twilight chuckled nervously. “Ummm … wadaya mean?” She absently pushed an old looking spell book off to the side with a hoof.
“You’re still terrible at lying.”
“Well, um … I might have accidentally cast a spell that might’ve backfired and caused everyone’s cutie marks to get switched up because the spell wasn’t complete and now Ponyville’s in chaos, PInkie Pie’s killed Sweet Apple Acres, Fluttershy’s failing miserably at making the townsfolk smile, Applejack’s obsessed with making dresses out of sackcloth, Rarity’s messing up the weather, Rainbow Dash is making the animals angry, and it’s all my fault!” She gasped for air, gulping greedily after gushing out the explanation. In a way it sounded very much like Pinkie Pie when she was doing her thing. That is, before losing her cutiemark.
Shawn stared blankly at her before sighing. “Just out of the hospital and back into the fray...” He shook his head.
“Eheh … yeah, looks like it,” Twilight said, placing a hoof on her mane awkwardly. “How about you just head home. Let me handle this one. It’s my fault in the first place. I should be the one to fix it.”
“Considering my ‘home’ is a long walk through the Everfree Forest away… I’d prefer to not stumble through it, so I’ll be here for another day or so. Most likely going to pay Berry for a room,” he replied.
“Oh, okay. You could always just wait here till I sort everything out. That way you don’t have to worry about any huge weather patterns hurting you.”
“I highly doubt the weather is going to harm me.”
“Okay, so Thalia sends us off to check the weather over a pony town?” The words came from a large male Gryphon somewhere along the center of the formation. “Who’s to say the Pegasi aren't practicing for some festival or something? These Equestrians are always celebrating.”
“Dropping hail as a part of it?” A female asked on the outer flank. “I don’t think ponies appreciate having ice chunks rained down on them at full plummet speed.”
“Wouldn’t actual Pegasi be a better fit though?” he asked. “I wanted to train with Grif.”
“Stop whining. We’ll be there and back again before you know it,” the gryphoness responded. “It’s not like we have another barrier to deal with.”
“It’s weird,” one of the smaller gryphonesses said as she broke formation to approach one of the square cloud patches. “It doesn’t feel like pegasi magic.”
“Careful, Cloud Wing. You don’t want to risk getting electrocuted,” The male warned.
“I think this one is carrying snow,” she said, placing a claw against it. “Yeah, it’s cold,” she said.
“But this cloud is carrying rain,” a cub spoke as he shook water from his hand. “Why would a Pegasus put two weather systems together?”
“A Pegasus wouldn’t … but a Unicorn might,” another cub said, pointing down through a gap in the patchwork where a pale Unicorn with a purple mane and a glowing blue horn tried directing the clouds with little success.
The cub who touched the rain cloud paused to hover in the air. “Why would a Unicorn be trying to move the weather?” he asked the group. “Should we return and report?”
“Do any of you see any other course of action? This is magic at work after all, and there isn’t much we can do on that front,” Cloud Wing said.
“Very well. Boss?” the cub asked, shaking water from his hand.
“I’m not the boss. I’m just going over our options, Rain Storm,” she said.
“You took point. That makes you the leader for now. Do we return and report or try to help here?” the eldest male asked.
“Fine then.” She sighed. “We’re heading back to Thalia and making a report. Everyone got that?” she asked.
Rain Storm nodded and banked back towards New Unity. “Got it, Boss.” The rest of the Gryphons soon followed.
Pensword was in the middle of the courtyard with his daughter. He smiled as she crawled around, investigating everything she could when a strange sound emanated from the corner of the courtyard. Gradually, a shape faded into and out of existence. There was a heavy bang and a replica of the CMC’s clubhouse stood in the yard.
“What?” Pensword asked in confusion. “Uh… that is not the T.A.R.D.I.S. It sounds like it, though ...”
From the top of the tree, the door opened as Applebloom poked her head out of the door. She ducked back in a moment later. Was she wearing engineering goggles? Was she taller? Pensword blinked, then raced for the ramp as Moon River began to crawl up, curious about the new ponies. “No, please, no time travel for you. You are too young to do that,” he said as he snatched her up and flew back a ways. Moon River shrieked in delight.
A moment later the door opened and a rather grown up Dinky walked out with a smile as she looked around. Pensword could see an hourglass cutie mark on her flank, only filled with bubbles instead of sand.
“Um, hello, Commander,” she said, giving him a small salute. “Uh ... would you happen to know the year?”
“Uh, two years after Luna’s return….” Pensword answered slowly. “You are older. Let me guess, some time machine?” He smiled with a small laugh. “Am I going to become the Brigadier?” he muttered to himself. He cleared his throat. “Should I be worried if you are showing up out of the blue?”
“Spoilers,” Dinky said, turning and running back into her time machine. “I told you we undershot it,” an older version of scootaloo’s voice shouted.
“Scoot-” He choked. “THEY HAVE A TIME MACHINE!” He yelled in a panic as he took to the air, holding his daughter a little tighter. Moon River giggled and squealed, happy for the sudden ride.
The sound of the door slamming echoed in Pensword’s ears, then the sounds happened again as the machine faded away. Pensword stood on a cloud, shaking. A moment Later, Lunar Fang appeared, her face a visage of fury.
“What did I say about flying?” She demanded as she landed on the cloud. Moon River crawled over to her mother.
“CMC… Older…. T.A.R.D.I.S. … Club House,” Pensword muttered as he tried to calm himself. He shook, tossing his mane all over the place. “Lunar Fang, dear… I just ran into an older teenage CMC… I think,” he amended quickly. “Anyway… they have their own time machine and Dinky, Applebloom, and Scootaloo were here. I would not be surprised if Sweetie Belle was there as well.” He took a breath. “Dinky had a Cutie Mark.”
“Did you hit your head, dear?” Lunar Fang asked.
“No. I had to pick Moon River up from the base of their clubhouse. It was right…” he pointed to where a new image was starting to appear. “Now The Doctor is showing up. I really am the Brigadier,” Pensword groaned. As the blue box landed, the doors opened and out popped Time Turner.
“By any chance, did Dinky come through here with her friends? Not your Dinky, of course, but a slightly larger dinky?” The Doctor asked. “Driving lessons kind of went off plan, you see.”
“Uh, she had a Cutie Mark? Hourglass? Bubbles for sand?” Pensword asked, getting a nod. “Yeah, not even a couple minutes ago. Said something about undershot or something. How many Ponies did she bring with her?”
“Oh, you know teenagers. First taste of freedom they want to take all their friends for a ride in their new chariot.” He chuckled awkwardly. “The CMC, and also Pipsqueak. He better keep his hooves from wandering, or so help me ...”
“Spoken like a true father,” Pensword replied. “Still, you just missed them. Try their target zone.” He shook his mane. “At least they are not getting into too much mischief. Good luck on catching up with them.” He laughed.
“Tell that to the hyper intelligent shade of blue people on Machalore Five,” The Doctor said as he boarded his own T.A.R.D.I.S. and immediately left.
“Okay, family nap time,” Lunar Fang said, putting Moon River on her back. “Mommy needs to process this.”
“Yes,” Pensword said. At least we only have to deal with a normal teenager,” Pensword replied. “I look forward to a nap. I need that.”
“Yes, Twilight. The snow and rain are evaporating before it even comes in contact with me… No, I am not questioning this fact any further,” Shawn sighed. “Explain to me again why you tried an unstable spell that you had no idea of its effect.”
“Well,” Twilight began, “I didn’t know the spell would do what it did, honest. I was just reading it out loud. I wasn’t trying to invoke it.”
“This is why I read quietly, or in one case, in Latin.” Shawn sighed. “Any plan from you so far?” He asked as they neared the library.
“What am I supposed to do?” Twilight asked, “I destroyed who they were and I have no way to bring them back.” Spike looked up to Twilight, concerned.
“You’ll figure something out…” Shawn replied. “No solution comes instantly,” he finished as he opened the door for Twilight to enter.
Twilight sighed, bowing her head. “I’m heading to my room. You can stay in the library if you want.” She slowly made her way up the stairs. Spike soon followed.
Shawn said nothing as he closed the door behind him, moving his way towards one of the chairs in the room. “She’ll figure something out,” he muttered to himself. “As planned, I expect, as well,” he finished as he sat down, his eyes scanning the shelves.
He trailed over a few works of fiction, several of a popular series that mimicked ones from Earth. What made him pause was a book that had Grif’s name on it in the fiction section. He hummed to himself as he grabbed the book and looked at the cover, “Grif Grafson and the Chamber of Winds.”
“What in the world…?” he questioned as he looked it over a few times. “Not going to be able to read it in time. I have a feeling Twilight will figure something out within the hour… like usual.”
He eyed the cover once again. “Then again, I’m sure I can get a few chapters in…”
He heard a muffled Twilight slowly singing about something, but it was too faint to make out from where he was standing. He quickly opened the book and began to read the first chapter. He got to the start of Chapter two when Twilight moped down the stairs followed by Spike. She stared at the picture of her friends on the mantle as Spike came up behind her.
“Oh, Spike. What have I done?” Twilight sighed as she stared up at the blue framed picture of her friends on the mantlepiece.
Spike approached from behind and placed a loving clawed hand on her flank. “Aw, come on, Twilight, you’ll figure out a way to fix this. These are your friends,” he said as he smiled at her before backing up. Twilight looked once more at the photo, this time with a cheerful smile.
“You’re right, Spike. And they mean more to me than anything. My friends …” Even as she said this, a purple aura began to shine around her as she closed her eyes, glowing brighter and brighter. Then her eyes snapped open, her cutie mark displayed in the stead of her pupils.
“Twilight, are you alright?” Spike asked.
“I’ve got it! I know what to do!” Using her magic, Twilight quickly took the glass case off the top of the pedestal that the Elements were resting on, placing them into the chest Celestia had brought them in originally before shutting it magically.
“Knew you’d figure it out,” Shawn said, yawning.
“Sorry, Shawn, I have to go. Just remember to jot your name down if you’re checking that book out!” she said as she raced out the door with spike and chest in tow.
Shawn stood up as he moved to the door. “Well then…” he said, rolling his eyes as he wrote his name down in the aforementioned book by the door. He closed his cargo, placing it inside his coat as he exited the building, following Twilight.
“Pensword?” Grif called as he entered the area that should have been Pensword’s office. His fur and feathers were messed up and he was clearly favoring his right talon. “You here?”
Pensword looked up from resting on a cushion in his office. “Yes?” he asked as he blinked some of the sleep from his eyes. Grif could see that Lunar Fang and Moon River were also resting in the office. He opened his eyes wider. “What happened to you? Did I actually sleep through an attack? Are we okay?” Pensword stopped himself as Grif raised a talon. He took a deep breath to calm down.
“I was trying out a new weapon.” Grif shrugged. “I was just coming in to talk about preparations for our trip.”
Pensword motioned with his wing to continue talking. “Just close the door. I trust my Life Mate, so she can hear the details as well.” He chuckled a little. “So you finally got bored with the weapons you know, eh? And how went your first day with the new one?”
“I can’t train with a one handed sword and be legitimately challenged. With a new weapon, I can find my mistakes as I try to adjust to it,” Grif said by explanation.
“Sounds impressive,” Pensword responded as Grif closed the door. “Now, touch the Crystal sculpture on my desk. That will give us privacy to discuss the trip.”
Grif did as he was instructed.
“Okay, let’s proceed,” Pensword said as he moved a wing to lay atop his daughter and Life Mate’s back. “What do you have?”
“Okay, so we know we’ll be entering the empire through the Lower Western Kingdom,” Grif noted as he pulled out the map. “When we get to the coast, I want the troops to split into even groups. Every group needs at least one gryphon mixed into it.”
“Right. I recall you said that before. I can do that still,” Pensword replied. “It’s good to go over things. Rather repeat oneself than miss something important.” He chuckled.
“The trip’s going to be made up of long marches with only necessary stops,” Grif continued as he measured out the distance on a map he’d pulled out from his armor. “It’s going to be tough enough being allowed to make camp.”
“Understood. Thankfully, we all can be winged, so, if needed, we could use the clouds. Unless there is some law forbidding cloud roosting,” Pensword added. “Where do you want me stationed? If you have nowhere really, I request to be at the side of Prince Bellacosa during this trip. We can get cloud walking talismans for him and his other guards.”
“You should be,” Grif said. “I’ll take point. I honestly have no idea how they gryphons will respond to Crystal Pony Royalty.”
“Hopefully with curiosity. After all, the Crystal Empire is a time capsule, a lost kingdom returned. I think there will be curiosity and hesitation due to how attitudes were a thousand years ago.” Pensword paused. “I hope.”
“Still, prepare for the worst, hope for the best, right?” Grif asked.
“Of course,” Pensword responded. “That is how all military leaders should plan. Backups to the backup plans.” He shook his head. “Still, my gut is nervous and I ... I do not know what will happen. I am getting used to the clanless, and your clan, and so on. I have never been to the Gryphon Imperial Capital. And well, I am unsure what will happen there. Still, I am happy we are planning.” He lowered his head. “I am even prepared to be imprisoned to protect Cosy’s life. I want him to have a safe return out of Griffonia.”
“I want everyone armed to the teeth,” Grif said. “At least a quarter of the current armory will be leaving with us.”
“Only a quarter? I surely thought more,” Pensword teased. “All the same, I hope Cosy continues in his weapon training from his Brother-in-Law. I will be working with him on some weapon use as well on the trip over.”
“Get him started with a crossbow on the journey over the sea, okay?” Grif said. “That should keep him off the front lines.”
“Will do. And sorry that I have not used your crossbow you got for my Birthday. I haven’t gotten around to getting it modified for Pony use,” he said, waving a hoof. “It is suited for my old body.”
“Tell your men to have their weapons ready to split a hair,” Grif said. “I’ll be testing each and every blade edge, hammer, and warstaff before we leave.”
“Understood. I am sure they will be ready. I will be talking to Wrought Iron. Sharp edges are his specialty.”
“You did tell Shining Armor and cadence to get Bellacosa battle armor, right? Not parade armor. Nothing is for show,” Grif said. “I’m still rather shocked they’re allowing this.”
“I think it is Cosy who is pushing for this. Also, yes, Shining is on top of that. I am told that he is getting battle armor, but Cadence has asked that the battle armor allow a cap for ceremonial purposes only.” Pensword sighed. “The letter is opened on the desk if you want the details.”
“As long as it defends him,” Grif said. “And nothing shiny. Shiny means valuable. Valuable says ‘please try and rob us.’”
“What about the shine of the Crystal Ponies themselves?” Pensword countered. “What if they remain shiny after leaving their capital?”
“Then they need to remain cloaked,” Grif said bluntly.
“Right,” Pensword paused and began to laugh. “Cosy will love that. He gets to act like some of the adventure stories he has been telling me in his letters.”
“His guards are going to need to bring supplies. There won’t be a lot of vegetables and fruits for purchase until the capital. Hunting is going to be tricky enough,” Grif said.
“Right, and we can bring a lot of guard cookies as well. I think we can have the supplies if needed. I might suggest dried Crystal berries as well, just to be on the safe side,” Pensword muttered. “Question. I fear if we do not set a limit, we might have a full unit of Crystal guards.”
“Just tell Cadence no more than ten crystal ponies,” Grif said.
“I shall inform her in my next Letter. Also, they have decided on coming here first. Then we all move out to the coast together. Princess Luna has promised us one of the few active Royal Naval Vessels that remain.” He sighed. “Sadly, it is a medieval vessel, so no cannons, which means no means of combat at sea.”
“Good. The journey from the coast inwards will be hard enough,” Grif said.
“Do not remind me,” Pensword groaned. “I shall be surrounded by enemies.” He shivered at the thought.
“Act polite, humble if need be. Make yourself someone pleasant to talk to so that when we get to the capital, the audience shall be with you,” Grif said. “It’s best to make ponies look better.”
“I will act like my old human self,” Pensword responded. He frowned slowly. “And the other meeting we need to have with the Emperor?”
“We need to petition for a separate audience without the kings present. That's going to take some doing,” Grif noted.
“Right. I hope that will be easy to achieve,” Pensword responded.
“Daedelus will give us what we want if he’s alone,” Grif said. “But in front of the five kings he’s less able to act.”
“I understand,” Pensword muttered. “Still,” he paused as his daughter began to fuss. “If you would excuse me, I have a diaper to change.”
Fluttershy was downcast as she dropped two Silver bits in front of the hot air balloon. She turned as she heard Twilight galloping towards her.
”Fluttershy, wait!” Twilight gasped as she stopped in front of Twilight, Spike and Shawn behind her as she took a breath.
“Oh... Hey, Twilight…” Fluttershy said, rubbing a foreleg.
“Where are you going?” Twilight asked, concerned and breathless. Fluttershy turned her head to the side.
“... I'm moving back to Cloudsdale. I don't know what's wrong, but I can't seem to make anypony laugh,” she said as a whoopee cushion deflated between her hooves, letting out a pathetic sound.
“Before you go, I was wondering if you might be willing to help Rainbow Dash. She's really struggling with her animals,” Twilight said.
“But... I don't really know anything about animals…” Fluttershy said. Twilight got up into her face.
“But you do know something about Rainbow Dash.”
Fluttershy paused, putting a hoof to her chin as she looked uncertainly. “I... know that she's a true friend, and I'll do anything I can to help her,” she finally said decisively as she turned away from the balloon.
Shawn simply watched from the background, not putting in any input. Twilight had a plan and he wasn’t going to alter it. But if this plan involved more songs...
“At least they didn’t have me join in…” Shawn muttered to himself as he trailed behind the six ponies and dragon. “It’s beginning to feel like every plan of Twilight’s might involve a musical number…”
“Well,” Pinkie Pie whispered, “It was a catchy song. And what’s a great party without music?” she asked.
“I can see you all enjoy it,” he replied sardonically.
“Well, of course!” Pinkie Pie shouted. “Still, I really really hope we never have to do this again. I like being me!”
“I would assume you enjoy being you, as there is only one you,” Shawn replied, his thoughts going towards the whole magical clone fiasco not that long ago.
“Yeah, but I’m a rock farmer, not an Apple farmer,” She responded with a roll of her eyes. “Biiig difference.” Shawn saw that they were heading towards Twilight’s library.
The friends quickly trotted in, followed by the human lord and chest toting dragon. Twilight levitated the spell book once again as she brought a pen up with her telekinetic grasp. She mumbled the spell without opening the book as she pondered its lines.
“A mark of one's destiny, singled out alone, fulfilled …” She gasped suddenly as her eyes widened. “Wait a second, that's it! I understand now! I know how to fix the spell!” With that she set to work, writing feverishly. The pen fell with a loud booming sound as it made contact with the page, placing the period to end the incantation. Her friends gathered around her as she read. “From all of us together, together we're friends. With the marks of our destinies made one, there is magic without end!” The moment she finished reading, the elements began to glow, then each fired a beam of colored light at the purple unicorn and her tiara. The light blinded the ponies, human, and dragon as it filled the room, shooting out the windows. When it had all died down, the group stared where Twilight had once stood. Now, only a charred spot remained.
The group gasped in terror and horror at the sight. Rainbow Dash looked confused. “What did we do?” She asked as she put a hesitant hoof on her still warm element.
“Possible teleportation spell,” Shawn said as he moved towards the scorch marks.
“I hope so,” Fluttershy whispered. “I really don’t want to tell Princess Celestia that Twilight was hit by all five elements.”
“Hard to say. Scorch marks don’t exactly tell you much,” Shawn said as he kneeled down, his hand hovering over the burned floor.
“So, what does that mean exactly, sugarcube?” Applejack asked. “What’s your plan? You always seem to have one in your noggin.”
The door flew open. “What happened?” Grif asked as he flew into the library. “I felt something big.”
Behind him Pensword flew in as well, his brow furrowed. The pegasus said nothing.
“Something big did happen,” Shawn said as his magic channelled through his eyes as he looked over the mark. Only a few short seconds later his magic flickered out as he fell of to his side, supporting himself with his hand as his other shot up to his face. After a moment he removed his hand to reveal blood on his knuckles. “Not stable enough,” he said aloud.
“What should I look for?” Grif asked, concentrating.
“Clouds of magic in the air, possible trail,” Shawn said as he stood up, muttering afterwards about finding the bathroom.
Grif looked around the mark “I can see bits and pieces of energy, but no concrete trail. It’s kinda hard to look at.”
“Don’t stare too long. It’ll burn through your insides,” Shawn warned.
“There’s a ripple,” Grif said. “It’s faint, but the spot seems to be pulsing some kind of energy.” The Gryphon headed towards the door “This way. It feels stronger this way.”
Pensword looked to the others, but didn’t say anything as he turned to follow his friend. He was still trying to mull over what he was seeing. He paused and did a double take. “Shawn? They let you out? But we were to get a letter saying you were going to be released.”
“Letters take time,” he replied.
“Still, they would have had to account for the time difference,” Pensword muttered.
“Shawn, what would a weakness in the separation between planes of reality look like as energy?” Grif asked.
“Unexplainable.”
“Okay, well there is something faint a few feet above the ground over there,” Grif said, pointing.
“Uh,” Pensword started before shaking his head out of the stupor he was feeling. “Well, I guess we follow where that is leading?” he asked. “Maybe this is a delayed teleportation spell to protect any bearers from harm if something goes wrong?”
“If delayed, the only thing we can do is wait,” Shawn said as he leaned on his cane.
“Then,” Applejack started with a look of determination. “We wait for whatever happens. I’d still feel a mite better if we send a letter to the Princesses letting them know what happened, though.”
“Part of me feels like they already know,” Shawn replied, eyeing the scorch marks once more.
“I would still feel comfortable if we did send a letter,” Pensword retorted. “Even if they know, they should know that others know.” He shivered. “Pardon me, I just feel cold if I get near that spot.”
“Shawn, who sent her the spell book originally?” Grif asked.
“Celestia.”
Pensword gave Shawn a long suffering look as if an entire argument had just repeated in the span of a second.
“Pensword, it’s been forty years, I’m not changing now,” Shawn replied simply before he paused and looked to the cane in his hand. “Man, the cane reinforces that now…”
“Well, either way, if Celestia sent the spellbook, she likely had this outcome in mind,” Grif said, letting go of the energy in his eyes. The gryphon reached into his bag and retrieved a tome before sitting down and reading. “Might as well pass the time.”
“Uh… well,” Pensword shook his head. “Fine. Meanwhile, I’ll go write the letter.” He moved to a corner of the library, took out parchment and a quill from his saddlebag, and went to writing a report.
Shawn’s eyes wandered to the gryphon as he gave a small smirk. “Hey, Grif, I think I have something you may find… amusing to say the least.”
“Go on,” Grif said, marking his line with a talon.
Shawn kept his smirk as he reached into his coat, pulling out a certain book and facing the cover towards Grif.
“Wait… is this--? … Okay, I have to see this,” Grif said, taking the book and opening it.
Grif stood in front of the pile of ashes that had been the book, idly sipping from a cup of tea they had raided from Twilight’s supply. “Well, that was embarrassing.”
“You… you burned a book,” Pensword spoke in fear of the sight. “Why?” His hoof shook as he sipped from his teacup. Next to him, a piping hot kettle stood as he guarded it from the others. The outside of the kettle had Celestia’s cutie mark on the side.
“Because I will not be parodied by the written word. Misrepresented by history, maybe, but not parodied,” Grif said
“I thought it was amusing,” Shawn replied, a small grin on his face.
“Ah, well, you owe Twilight bits for destruction of library property,” Pensword said, sipping his tea. “I fully expect you to get a lecture from her for what you did. And that’s if you are lucky.”
“Then she better prepare for one about right to public image,” Grif retorted.
Pensword paused. “Well, I do not know what she will do then. Still, that is going to be interesting. We have been missing for over a thousand years. I guess we should all be looking for what has been written about us.” He paused as he face hoofed. “Oh dear, that is going to reset the laws of use of historic figures.”
“Going to have to keep an eye out for those books,” Shawn said before taking a drink of his boiling tea.
Pensword looked to his friend. “You are showing off again,” he replied, rolling his eyes at the heat Hammer Strike had applied to his teacup. They had chosen to adjourn to the town square nearby and were laying on a blanket while Twilight’s friends paced with worry.
“How can you three sit around drinking tea while we wait for Twilight? She might not even show up with how late it’s getting!” Rainbow Dash shouted at them.
“Same way I could drink tea in my command tent while I besieged Fort Triumph,” Pensword responded with a sip. “A situation like this is a waiting game. No use in wasting energy if it can be helped. It will happen, whatever it is, when it decides to happen.”
“I once spent three days stalking a moose while being stalked by a mountain lion,” Grif said. “Nothing's going to kill me at a perceived moment of weakness, so I can wait for days.”
“A few wars, forty years of isolation, and losing your memories can do wonders for how you handle stress,” Shawn replied with a shrug.
“I just hope Twilight’s okay,” Fluttershy said.
A blinding light filled the sky, grabbing the attention of all gathered.
Pensword stood up. “Well, something is definitely happening now.”
“One way to make an entrance...” Shawn muttered, squinting slightly as he partially covered his eyes.
“Anyone notice the distinctive pattern?” Grif asked.
“Can’t see, eyes burn,” Shawn muttered, turning his head a little.
Any further conversation was cut off as the bright light descended to the ground, growing increasingly radiant. Finally, after everyone had looked away, the light died down to reveal Twilight standing where the light would have landed. Almost on reflex, two large feathered wings stretched out regally from her back.
“Twilight?” Applejack asked, shocked. “Is that you?” The entire group save Shawn, Grif, and Pensword gasped. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“Ha! Twilight's got wings! Awesome! A new flying buddy!” Rainbow laughed, doing a hoof pump.
“Why, you've become an Alicorn. I didn't even know that was possible,” Rarity said in awe.
“Alicorn party!” Pinkie Pie cheered as she swung by on ropes with fake wings attached.
“Well, this is new.” Pensword paused suddenly. “Does that mean I have a new boss?”
“Great, ultra obsessed unicorn with explosive magical potential and no real stress control now becomes an alicorn.” Grif face palmed.
Shawn shook his head, choosing to say nothing. The look on his face said it all.
“You look like a princess,” Fluttershy said.
“That’s because she is a princess,” Celestia said as she appeared behind the group.
Pensword stood at attention, while Pinkie Pie yelled. “Hold on a minute!” She quickly took a drink of water and did a spit take.
“A... A princess?” Twilight asked in concern and worry as she looked up to Princess Celestia.
“Since you've come to Ponyville, you've displayed the charity, compassion, devotion, integrity, optimism, and, of course, the leadership of a true princess.” As Princess Celestia spoke each trait, each of her six friends bowed.
“But... does this mean I won't be your student anymore?” Twilight asked, her voice wavering between worry and panic.
“Not in the same way as before. I'll still be here to help and guide you, but we're all your students now too. You are an inspiration to us all, Twilight.” With that Princess Celestia bowed to Twilight Sparkle, which action was soon repeated again by her friends.
Pensword, who had begun to relax, smartly returned to his stance of Attention as he saluted the new Princess of Equestria.
“But... what do I do now? Is there a book about being a princess I should read?” Twilight asked Celestia, looking a little less nervous, but still tense.
Princess Celestia laughed. “There will be time for all of that later.”
“Why do I have a feeling something big is coming?” Grif asked.
“Uh, Princess, I saved you some tea.” Pensword paused as he realized that there were two princesses present. “Um … Princesses,” he amended. “Princesses, I saved some tea. I am guessing we shall be returning to Canterlot for a coronation?”
Princess Celestia giggled. “Thank you, I think we could have a nice impromptu picnic here if you don’t mind, Princess Twilight.” She smiled proudly on her student.
Twilight made a small eep, but nodded quickly. “Of course, Princess. Of course. Whatever you say.” With the help of Pinkie Pie’s antics she soon loosened up while Applejack brought some food out for the friends to enjoy under the stars. A late dinner was held on the lawn outside of Golden Oaks Library.
Conor came running up the lane as he caught sight of the royal gathering. “Hey!” He waved. “There you guys are! Why’d you have to go and leave me behind like that? It took me forever to get here.” Everyone just stared at him. “What?”
Pensword turned his head with a flat expression. “What does it look like?” He asked in his teacher’s voice. “Take a step back observe, and then, see if you can answer your own question.”
“I kinda meant why the stares? Though I’m guessing some big stuff happened considering the supernova that went off overhead, the fact Celestia is currently enjoying a party with all of you, and Twilight now has wings. Care to fill me in?”
Celestia and Twilight both stared at the semi-human, the one inquisitively, the other with concern.
“Conor, I thought I told you to stay in the hospital until you were finished changing,” Twilight said. Conor shrugged.
“I am done. Apparently, something happened to give me a thaumic field. This is what I’m stuck as for now.” Twilight’s jaw dropped in a brief “O.” “So is anypony going to explain what’s been happening here or am I just going to be left in the dark?” Conor asked as he tapped his foot and leaned forward. “I’m waiting,” he said, drawing out the last word with a knowing smirk as he winked to his friends. Grif pulled a little smirk of his own before returning to a more relaxed state.
“Celestia’s visiting, someone wrote a really bad book about me, Rarity has a lot of outfits to repair, Fluttershy’s house is going to be redecorated, I don’t think Ponyville will need rain for a few weeks,” Grif took a long sip of tea. “And, oh yeah, Twilight’s an alicorn now, so that happened.”
“Oh, is that all? I figured something like a massive tornado moving through Ponyville, or some sort of monster trying to break stuff apart, or maybe a spell gone awry would’ve happened.” The party all chuckled nervously at the last one. “Ah. Got it,” Conor said.
“We’re going to have to see what we can do about getting you fixed though, Conor. After we finish here, I want to perform a few tests,” Twilight said. Conor shuddered.
“You’re not going to stick a bunch of wires in me, are you Twilight?” he asked.
“Of course not … Well, maybe a little,” Twilight said. Celestia put a gentle wing over Twilight’s back.
“I don’t think that will be necessary, Twilight. We’ll find a way to set things right without making him feel so uncomfortable.” The solar princess smiled warmly at Conor. “I’ll see if I can’t work something out with my sister.”
“We’re missing the important thing here,” Grif said. “Someone wrote a parody book. About me! We need to hunt this guy down immediately.”
“Well, let us not be too hasty. We can at least legally request that the book be taken off the shelves as we are not long dead historical figures anymore.” Pensword paused. “I am sure that at least you shall avoid the history book sections. If writers are akin to Earth, there will be hundreds of opinions of the historical events themselves. However, on the fictional side of things, I think a court battle would be better.”
“Anyways, how about we get back to eating? I’m starving,” Conor said, his stomach growling.
Pinkie Pie popped up out of nowhere as she pulled out a giant platter of oatmeal raisin cookies, sugar cookies with crystal berry frosting, chocolate chip cookies, an alicorn shaped cake, and a ring of her famous cupcake variety pack. “Don’t forget about dessert!” she shouted cheerfully.
Grif shrugged, grabbing a red velvet cupcake. “Can’t argue with that logic.”
Conor chuckled. “You bet. And can I get some of that bread with some apple jam too?” he asked.
“I’ll have the Crystal Sugar Cookies,” Pensword said with a raised wing.
“So when’re you gonna tell your parents, Twilight?” Conor asked. Twilight dropped everything as she froze mid twinge, one eye bugging wide open while the other flickered between a squint and complete closure. She held the pose for all of about ten seconds before she broke out of it, practically hyperventilating.
“Oh my gosh, my parents!”
“So…” Grif sat back in his chair behind his desk, tenting his talons. “You come to me on this, the week of Twilight's coronation, requesting a favor.”
“Well,” Princess Celestia responded looking confused. “Yes. It’s actually Luna who’s pressuring it. She wants better control of Security. And so, I’m willing to hire the Bladefeathers for the job. That is, if you’re willing to take the position,” She said casually.
“For Luna’s peace of mind,” Grif said. “I’d be more then willing. But my gryphons will require reasonable compensation for their time.”
“They will have it.” She nodded. “The starting price is in the contract,” she said, hovering the scroll for Grif to peruse.
“Yes, and it looks reasonable, provided you can throw in a crate of high quality weapons on top of that. We’re still refitting the clan at the moment, and some of my more skillful warriors need something better than broken axes and dull knives.”
“I’m sure something can be arranged, although you already have four of the best smiths in Equestria working at New Unity. I believe Luna and I can come up with something. Is it a deal then?”
“When are the Mane Six heading out to Canterlot?” Grif asked.
“I’ve arranged for transport in two days. It’ll take at least that long for the nobles to adjust to the idea of a new alicorn princess.” Celestia put a wing to her mouth. “Oh dear, I just realized how much those families will be vying for her attentions now. All the more reason for a body guard. I trust you can protect her?”
“I’m going to be assigning personal shadows to each of them,” Grif said. “They’re national assets, and it is time to treat them as such.”
“Excellent.” Celestia nodded. “I’m glad we agree on something for once. Just sign down here. I’ll countersign it and seal it with the royal seal, then leave the contract in your care. I’ll be legally bound to honor it.” She paused for a moment. “Though I do have a suggestion for one of the shadows if you would be willing to receive it.”
“You want to repair the friendship between Gilda and Rainbow Dash,” Grif said, not even bothering to look up from the pages in front of him.
“Exactly.”
“You’ve been working on that one for a while,” Grif said. “A warrior cannot have such a weight on their conscience.”
“And neither can a friend like Rainbow Dash. I take it you agree with my plan?”
“Princess, I may not agree with a lot of your policies, ideas, or even ideals, but gilda is part of my family now, and if there is one thing my father got into this thick skull, it’s that if one of your family suffers, then everyone suffers.”
“... You called me Princess,” Celestia said, surprised.
“As of six minutes ago, this is business,” Grif said. “Mercenaries hold the one rule that when a contract begins, all history between the hirer and the hirelings is gone until the contract ends.”
“I see. In that case, Grif, I look forward to making use of your services. I’ll make sure to prepare the courts so there isn’t an uproar over your family coming,” Celestia said, smiling.
“Let’s hope that this goes peacefully,” Grif said. “Coronations are all too easy instances for assassins.”
“After what happened at the wedding, I’m not taking any chances,” Celestia said soberly. “By the way, congratulations on the twins.” She smiled slyly as she ported away in a flash of sunlight. The scroll blazed momentarily as Celestia’s signature was burned on magically, followed by the royal seal.
“H … Wha … HOW?” Grif could only stand there, flabbergasted at what had just happened. “Did ... did she just troll me?”
Pensword stood akin to a cadet facing a superior officer, keeping his eyes forward while Lunar Fang stalked around him. Moon River slept peacefully in the cloth carrier in front of her barrel.
“So, you ran off,” Lunar Fang said evenly.
“I, I had to.” Pensword responded. “Something, something was off and I could feel it,” Pensword replied. “I deserted my post and went against orders.” He maintained his rigid pose, refusing to let his eyes stray.
“Yes, in the middle of family nap time,” Lunar Fang said. “You woke Moon River up.”
“Yes,” Pensword replied. “I fully expect you have a consequence ready.”
“Here.” She carefully handed the cloth holding their daughter to him. “She’ll be up in about half an hour or so. You get her for the night.”
“Of course, dear.” Pensword replied. “Anything else?” he asked.
“Unless the fortress is under attack, don’t wake me,” Lunar Fang said tiredly as she headed for the bed.
“Of course, dear. Do you want me to pack your full dress armor and uniform for Canterlot?” he asked as he looked down to his sleeping daughter's form.
“Yes,” she said, not even bothering to turn back as she collapsed onto the bed.
“As you wish,” Pensword whispered lovingly. He slowly moved towards the corner where they had set up a play area for Moon River, including a few tall places for her to perch on. The main idea had been to recreate the ledges of a cave. For the most part, it had been a success, though it still didn’t quite fit all the conditions. He settled down and just watched his daughter sleep at the moment as she snuggled against his chest. He sighed as he looked up to the window, a frown on his muzzle.
Why had he been drawn to that event? It was an almost instinctual homing urge similar to how Earth would call migration of birds. He fought it for three minutes before finding himself in the air flying towards that… he paused trying to put to words what he would call it. An outburst, perhaps? Yes, an outburst of energy. He looked down at his sleeping daughter and nuzzled her softly with his muzzle. He hoped the future he was helping to build would be safe for her. Someday, in that hopeful future, war would not be needed and positions like his would be ceremonial.
Gently, the little thestral began to stir next to him. Her large eyes opened up before staring happily at her father.
“Hello, my little Moon River,” Pensword whispered to his daughter. He knew talking with her would help her develop her mind. “Did you sleep well?”
Moon River responded with a happy braying noise.
Pensword smiled and make a sound of encouragement as he watched. This was the first time Moon River had been able to wake up in his arms and she was just so adorable. Putting her down, he smiled as she started to crawl in her play pen. Moon river moved to her toys and grabbed a rubber deer, which she began to nibble on.
Pensword giggled at the sight as he watched his daughter while a sense of pride bloomed in his chest. He paused suddenly, pondering the foal. Could she be teething? He shook his head with a snort. He doubted it. It wasn’t time. At least not yet.
Grif stood outside the walls of new unity, well beyond the the bridge and just at the border of the Everfree. Less than fifty feet away stood the site of what would be the Bladefeather compound. Exactly 25 gryphons of varying gender, type, and size stood at attention before him.
“Okay, so you all are probably wondering why I called each of you here selectively from the rest of the family,” Grif said, getting mixed nods of confirmation and mumbles of agreement from the group. “Well, if you haven’t heard yet, Twilight Sparkle, former student of Celestia Galaxia, has officially ascended to alicorn-hood, and, in one week, will be awarded her own royal house.” A few gryphons responded in surprise, but for the most part the feel was more geared towards Grif getting on with why they were there. Grif obliged.
“Princess Celestia has decided to officially bring in some professional help for security. That professional help being the Bladefeather clan. Us,” Grif told them. This proclamation elicited a much more noticeable reaction as the assembled warriors perked up. “And yes, she is going to pay for it.” Now he could see the grins amongst the crowd. Gold always seemed to draw the best attention.
“For the most part you will be divided into small groups and given patrol routes through the grounds of the palace and the planned parade ground. One of you will be carrying a changeling lantern. That one is to keep an eye out for danger. I don’t need to tell you that coronations, as rare as they are in Equestria, are great opportunities for assassins.” While rare in Equestria, in Gryphonia, coronations were indeed common. The mercenaries already knew what their clan leader was getting at.
“Six of you have been selected to serve as minders for the element bearers. These six will be expected to be invisible before and after the coronation. For the coronation proper, you will all be issued special dress armor. I don’t need to tell you all proper mercenary etiquette.” Grif looked at all of them. “Celestia has paid for us to serve as the vanguard. Everypony in canterlot is worth more than any of you until our job is done. Do I make myself clear?” The gryphons nodded.
Taking a load of scrolls from his bags, he began passing them out. “These are your assignments. They are not up for negotiation,” Grif said as he passed Gilda the first scroll. “Learn them, memorize all the details, and prepare yourselves. This turns out well and we may be in for a great deal more high paying security details to come.” Grif looked at the scroll still in his hand with surprise. “Now where is kel’leam?” Grif looked around, confused.
“Right in front of you, sir,” came the somewhat exasperated voice of a large, stocky grey-feathered white furred gryphon, half albatross, half liger. The beast of a gryphon stood a head and shoulders taller than Grif, wearing professionally shined full plate mail and carrying a massive spear and broad shield. Despite all this, it seemed no one could recognise him in a crowd unless he spoke first.
“Oh, there you are, kel’leam. You know, you really should turn your stealth off, it’s kinda jarring when you vanish like that,” Grif said, handing him a scroll.
The massive armored spear fighter just sighed as he took his assignment.
Grif smiled. “You will all report here tomorrow afternoon. Celestia is sending over some of Canterlot's better stock of weapons. I want you all outfitted to your very best for this.” Grif alighted on a nearby boulder as he turned to face his family. “In peace?” Grif asked
“Vigilance,” the assembled warriors responded.
“In war?” Grif asked again.
“Victory.”
“In death?”
“Sacrifice!”
“Who the hell are we?”
“Bladefeathers!”
“And who’s better?”
“Nobody!”
“Dismissed!” Grif saluted with a wing as the assembled gryphons nodded before departing. He turned to leave when he heard the wing beats behind him. “I said they're not up for negotiation, Gilda.”
“You can’t be serious,” Gilda said. “You're not doing this to me!”
“You're the fastest flyer we have in the family. The only one who can keep up with her in most situations,” Grif responded. “And it’s time this was settled. We can’t move forward if you can’t make peace with this.”
“She left me!” Gilda shouted.
“And you tried to alienate her from the ponies she lived with,” Grif shot back. “Greed is our weakness. We are a greedy race and it’s always the cause of our downfall. I said I would make a warrior of the old way from you, and the first thing is you learning that sometimes you have to lower your beak first.” Grif turned to look at her, his face a mixture of sternness and compassion.
“You can do this. Apologize to her. Make peace between you and then perform your duty. That’s all I ask.” Grif placed a talon on her crest and made a few taps on her head. “You’re hardheaded; that’s half the battle. Now you need to learn to be softhearted.” With those words, Grif spread his wings and turned. Without a word, he took to the air and made for New Unity. He’d left gilda with some things to think about, but he was confident everything would be well.
Pensword stood on the platform, his ears twitching as he waited for the train. Celestia had left by royal chariot while the others were to take the train to Canterlot. He sighed a little. They had bought as many tickets as they could, and he hoped there would be another train for those not involved in the coronation at the end of the week. He looked to the others on the platform.
“Why so blue?” Conor asked.
“Blue?” Pensword asked for a moment of confusion before his mind clicked. “Not blue. Just wondering if all will get to see the coronation. Also, I am a little nervous. This is one of my first times in my position of High Duke of Ys.” He paused with a grin crossing his muzzle. “I hear the train.” Moon River perked up from her mother’s back and giggled happily as she pointed down the tracks.
“Dang, your hearing must be good,” Conor said. “Benefits of being a pony, right?”
“No,” Shawn replied simply. “He just hears trains earlier than others.”
“Yep, I think the train is on time, oh, and it’s the Canterlot Express engine.”
“Canterlot Express? Is that good?” Conor asked.
“Well, it is one of the more modern steam engines on this route, so I think so,” Pensword said. He turned his head and blinked, a small smile forming on his muzzle. “Can you hear the train?” he asked Moon River.
The foal responded only with a giggle as she continued to point down the tracks.
“Okay. Is there anything I should watch out for or expect while we’re there?” Conor asked as he nervously fiddled with his clothes. Rarity had insisted he wear a full suit designed to fit his new frame as his well styled hair parted at the side. The suitcase Shawn had purchased for him lay on the platform beside him with a week’s worth of regular and dress clothing while his violin case slung comfortably over his back.
“Follow the rules, stay at least civil to the nobility until you can form your own opinions, give courtesy to the Royals, and pray that we have things go smoothly for the public,” Pensword answered. Then he started looking around the platform. “Well, this is strange. Grif should have arrived by now.” They all could hear the engine’s whistle now.
The sound of multiple figures moving towards the platform was almost drowned out by the approaching engine. Grif strolled onto the platform followed by 19 heavily armed and armored gryphons with 6 others covered in a variety of cloaks.
“One day, you're going to explain how you do that,” Grif said.
“Do what?” Pensword asked with a blank expression. Lunar Fang rolled her eyes. “Grif, what is the deal with the other troops?” Pensword put a hoof to his chin in thought, then lowered it as his ears perked up. “Oh… this is based on what happened to us last time we were in Canterlot.”
“Sorta yes, sorta no,” Grif said. “Princess Celestia decided to hire some professional security for this event, given what happened so recently with the wedding and the attack. She hired us to patrol the city as well as personally guard the elements.”
“Sounds like fun,” Shawn replied.
“Sorry I didn’t invite you to the party, but you know,” Grif formed quotation marks with his talons. “Legally, you're not allowed to carry weapons for this.” Grif smirked. “So whatever you two have, just keep them buried deep.”
Shawn laughed. “I’d love for them to try and take my greatsword. I’m pretty sure it weighs more than them.”
“Not my job, not my gryphons’ job,” Grif shrugged. I’ll leave that to the guards.”
“I want them to try. Then again, it might end with the guards giving up, or Celestia telling them that it’s not going to happen.” Shawn shrugged.
“You’re … a lot more animated than usual,” Grif noted.
“You know how it goes, nearly dying multiple times and I was just reminded again of my own mortality, along with the fact that I am bound to magic in order to live now…” he said before pausing with a sigh. “Really changes you,” he finished.
“Still, this is ...” Pensword shuffled a little on his hooves. “And I have to be without a weapon as they put more importance on my Noble title instead of being the Commander of all Equestrian Forces.”
“I’ll carry spare weapons for you if something happens,” Shawn said.
“By the time the need arises--” Grif grinned arrogantly “--the cause will be dead.”
“If your troops are half as good as the elite Gryphons I faced, I think I can believe it.” Pensword frowned. “Platinum said the Gryphon Slayers can attend as civilians, but not in a military fashion. As she put it, ‘no one would dare attack with all the Princesses present.’” He shook his head, tossing his mane in a frustrated manner. “I don’t like it.”
“You used a contraction!” Lunar Fang cried out, kissing him on the muzzle. Pensword blushed violently.
“That’s not how Celestia feels.” Grif shrugged. “Anyway, when are the elements arriving?” As soon as he asked he heard the hoof steps of the ponies in question.
“Rarity, you didn’t have to pack half your shop,” Applejack sighed with a shake of her head, letting out a equine snort.
“Speak of Tirek ...” Grif said as they turned to the ponies plus dragon.
“Applejack, it’s Twilight’s coronation. I simply can’t go underprepared,” Rarity said as she tossed her mane. Spike faithfully tagged along behind her, laden down with luggage. His knees buckled under the pressure.
“Girls, you don’t have to do this for me,” Twilight protested.
“Actually, we do,” Pinkie Pie said as she hopped beside her. “Since we’re the elements of harmony, Celestia said we have to come to Canterlot for an extra super specially surprising surprise!”
Rainbow Dash stopped mid-flight. “A surprise from Celestia? Like that’s new.” She smiled toothily. “I like that idea though.”
“Okay, girls; line up, please,” Grif said. “Single file. I want to get a few things covered now so they don’t come into question later.”
The six quickly lined up. They were more than a little confused why he’d said please.
“I have officially been contracted by Princess Celestia to provide security for the coronation, the civilians, the city, the ceremony, and specifically, for the six of you. So, until we debark back to this spot in one week's time, you will each be assigned a bodyguard who is not to leave your side until we are all back here.”
“Are you kidding me?” Rainbow Dash zipped into the air as she placed her hooves against her flanks. “We don’t need bodyguards. We can take care of ourselves.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, how many battles have you fought in?” Grif asked. “What’s your kill count? How many times have you needed to actually take a life to protect others?”
“Chrysalis, the Crystal Empire, Nightmare Moon, the Wonderbolt Academy, need I go on?”
“Chrysalis won, at the Crystal Empire you hosted a carnival, Nightmare Moon you came in just in time for Twilight to figure out how the elements work, and please, enlighten me, how much combat experience do you have that's not training sessions?” Grif raised an eyebrow.
Rainbow turned to the rest of the mane six. “Come on, guys. Back me up. We did more than just that, right?”
The rest of the party did a combination of either looking down at the platform, staring off into space, or whistling innocently. Rainbow groaned, then crossed her hooves as she turned to face Grif. “Fine,” she harrumphed.
“Now these cloaks,” Grif waved a talon, indicating the six gryphons in front, “are a little something I brought back from the war. They are specially woven and enchanted to make the user less noticeable to those they do not wish to be seen by. Twilight, as crown-princess-to-be, it seems imperative that I assign you my best warrior,” Grif said as he nodded to the first figure. The cloak shimmered, changing from black to lavender as the gryphoness inside lowered her hood, revealing a familiar face. “You will be guarded by Thalia. I’m not sure if you two met or not, but Thalia is my second in command amongst the gryphons, and, with few exceptions, my best warrior.”
“Pleased to meet you,” Twilight said, extending a hoof to shake. Thalia shook the young mare’s hoof.
“Likewise. I’ll make sure to be as unintrusive as possible.”
“Now, Pinkie Pie, you are a tricky one, what with you being Pinkie Pie,” Grif said. “I don’t know if she’ll be exactly on your level, but you will be guarded by Cheshire.” He nodded as the next cloak in line became a bright pink. The hood lowered, revealing a harrier gryphon with dark red feathers and tan fur. Lynx whiskers protruded from the sides of her beak, and in the stead of the usually wide pupil gryphons were famous for, she had slits. “She is reasonably chaotic and high energy with a dash of insanity. She can also skin a bear with her daggers without waking it up.”
“Ooh, ooh we’re going to have so much fun!” Pinkie smiled, hopping on the gryphoness’ back excitedly.
“Your hair looks like cotton candy!” the gryphoness replied happily. The two immediately began to chatter on the side.
“Now, Rarity, I’m going to be honest. Most of the gryphons in the Bladefeathers don’t really care about fashion,” Grif said. “That being said, I managed to find you a guard who has a natural appreciation for beauty with a natural beauty I think you can appreciate.” Grif nodded to the next gryphon, whose cloak turned a deep purple as she revealed herself. She was a surprisingly beautiful mix of red feathers and green fur. Her tiger cat aspects complimented her peregrine amazingly well. “I am called Griselle,” she said.
Rarity’s eyes sparkled as she gawked, leaning forward as she took in the colors and fur patterns.
“Um … is this normal, Grif?” Griselle asked.
“Rarity, concentrate. You can freak out on the train ride. You're making a scene right now.” Grif snapped his talons.
Rarity blinked a few times, shook her head, then then blushed. “My apologies. I must have looked rather foolish there. But after we get on the train, I’d like to discuss a business proposition with you if you don’t mind.”
“I’m always open to business,” Griselle shrugged.
"Applejack," Grif looked to one of the two massive gryphons. Said gryphon lowered his hood, revealing the red crest and straight beak of a woodpecker with the added features of a mountain lion. "Ganth here is one of my hardest workers. Also, he's as stubborn as a rock. You two should have plenty in common."
“I don’t know much about you, Ganth, but I’m willing to learn if you are,” Applejack said.
“... Sounds fair enough.” Ganth shrugged.
“Now flu…” Grif looked around. “Okay, damnit, where is kel’leam?” Grif said, looking around. “He was there when we left Unity!” The assorted gryphons scanned the crowd to try and locate their missing comrade.
“I’m right here, sir,” a loud sigh said. Grif looked towards the voice.
“Oh, there you are kel’leam,” Grif said, looking at the massive cloaked figure. “Fluttershy, I realize you're shy and you may find the idea of someone following you all week to be a bit off putting, so I have assigned you kel’leam. If you haven’t noticed, he has the weird talent for being easy to forget his presence. If you need him, all you have to do is say his name and he’ll be there.”
“Oh… um… thanks,” Fluttershy said, attempting to hide behind her mane.
“The pleasure is mine, m’lady.” Kel’leam bowed, his armor straps creaking as he lay his broad shield point down on the ground in front of him.
“Now, Rainbow Dash, you're a bit of a tricky one yourself,” Grif noted. “You’re somewhat overconfident about your combat abilities and that can cause you to fly straight into trouble without the humility to fly back out again. Your speed makes keeping track of you difficult, if not impossible at times, so I’ve assigned someone who can keep up with you. She has recently started down a path of humility that I hope will allow her to temper your wild streak,” Grif said.
Rainbow smirked. “Just try to keep up with me. I dare you.”
“Considering it’s to my understanding that you were the one who taught her how to race, I think she’ll keep up with you just fine. Rainbow Dash, your bodyguard is Gilda Bladefeather, formerly of Gryphonia,” Grif said as the gryphoness in question removed her hood. She averted her eyes as her talons clutched at the fabric. The rest of the mane six gasped.
“You didn’t.” Rainbow glared at Grif. “You did not just assign that traitor to guard me.” She turned on the gryphoness. “You here to tell me how much of a dweeb I am, or make one of my friends cry?”
Gilda reared her head back, preparing to retort, but came up short as she caught Grif in the corner of her eye giving her a withering glare. She took a deep breath and let it out in a long sigh before lowering her beak till the tip touched the ground.
“... I’m sorry,” she said gruffly. Given the circumstances, Grif let it go at that for now. “You don’t have to talk with me if you don’t want to, but my job is to keep you safe, and that’s what I’m going to do,” Gilda said.
Rainbow turned with a huff as she folded her forelegs and rushed into the car without another word. Gilda sighed as she looked to Grif.
“It’s not going to be easy,” Grif said. “But it will be worth it.”
“I hope you’re right,” Gilda said as she slowly walked into the carriage. “... I hope you’re right.”
“Alright, girls, you're in the royal car. Your bodyguards will be with you for the trip. I’ll be riding with Lord Shawn and Duke Pensword in the second car. The rest of you troops are in the next two cars. Rest up! It’s going to be a long week,” Grif said as he gave his finishing orders. The gryphons dispersed to their assigned places.
As the friends trotted onto their car, Conor looked inquisitively at the massive greatsword strapped to Shawn’s back.
“Um … Shawn, you can’t walk without that cane, right?” he asked.
“Technically can. Why?” Shawn asked.
“Well, if you’re still weak, I was wondering why you’d be carrying that thing on your back in the first place. Isn’t it hard to bear the extra weight?”
Shawn chuckled. “Still weak…” The chuckle turned into a hearty laugh. “That’s funny!” Shawn said before walking in to join the mane six.
“What? I’m serious!” Conor exclaimed as he disappeared through the door.
“All aboard!” Grif shouted to the conductor, chuckling to himself as he boarded the car and closed the door behind him. “Shawn weak. That’s hilarious.” A rather long and tedious discussion soon followed between the four friends as the three tried to soothe Conor’s concerns.
Princess Luna stood on the familiar cave platform under Canterlot. She looked to the illuminated clock in the stone wall before turning back to the tunnel entrance and fluffed her wings a impatiently. “At least Sister’s plan worked this time around.” She clopped her hoof on the wooden platform twice.
Several minutes later, a steam whistle blew loudly as a train made of finely cut crystal rolled it’s way into the station.
Princess Luna’s features pulled into a smile a brief second before returning to her more neutral appearance. After all, this was an official royal event. The train hissed to a halt as it let out a final puff of steam before settling in at the platform. The single compartment opened as Queen Cadence came trotting out, a smile beaming across her face. Prince Cosey and Princess Alto pranced behind, bouncing around their favorite uncle. Shining Armor looked down at the children and smiled. Soon after, thirty crystal pony guards marched into position, forming two protective lines around the group of royals. Their purple crystal armor complimented their glimmering crystal coats as they stood at attention.
“Oh, Aunt Luna, it’s so good to see you,” Cadence said as she took the lunar princess in a warm embrace. “I hear you’ve been busy since last we met.” Cadence gave Luna a conspiratorial wink.
“Yes,” Luna blushed; “however, we still have much to do before the plans are put into motion.” Cadence’s smile turned to confusion as Luna realized her mistake. “Oh, you mean the new Lunar Capital. Yes, I am very pleased with how it’s been coming along. We even have our own Thestral nobility now.” Luna was suddenly surprised as she was bombarded by the two little heirs while they clutched her legs.
“We missed you, Auntie Luna,” Cosey said.
“I missed her more,” Alto insisted. Luna couldn’t help but chuckle at the cuteness.
“I’m sure you both missed me just as much.” she laughed as she wrapped her wings around them. “But no quarreling, please.”
The two siblings looked at each other, glared a moment longer, then smiled and broke into a fit of giggles. “We were being pretty silly, weren’t we, Cosy?” Alto asked. Cosy nodded as he laughed.
“Well, that’s one crisis averted,” Shining said with a chuckle as he kissed Cadence on the cheek. “How’s my little sis holding up?” he asked.
“You’ll have to speak to Twilight on that,” Luna said with a smirk. “After all, she is a Princess now. That means she’ll be the one to have the final say over your arguments since she left Canterlot for Ponyville.” Luna chuckled. “I hope you’re ready to persuade her.”
“She can try to wriggle out of it all she likes. She’s going to have protection,” Shining said with a snort and a hoof stamp.
“We can talk about that later, honey. Right now, I’m sure everyone’s anxious to get to their rooms and unpack. Let’s worry about the rest after we’re settled in, alright?” She bat her eyelashes as she nuzzled the former commander and his knees buckled.
“Y-yes, dear,” Shining said. Cosey and Alto snickered as the party made their way through the tunnels towards the palace.
Pensword stiffened in his seat. “Err, we are heading towards the hidden entrance.” He slumped a little in his chair. “I hope we are not under arrest again.”
“Hey, I got diplomatic immunity till the end of the week.” Grif shrugged.
“And they have nothing on me,” Shawn replied as he repeated the gesture.
“Nor I, I hope; but still, it is a little worrisome going the same path again. I hope it will have a different outcome,” Pensword said.
“Something you guys haven’t told me yet?” Conor asked with an amused expression on his face.
“Gryphons are sore losers,” Pensword responded as he crossed his forehooves over his chest. Lunar Fang gave a small kiss to the sleeping Moon River as she stirred and yawned in her pouch.
“At least this time I’m prepared for if someone's going to try and kill me,” Grif said.
“Agreed. I hate Black Tips,” Pensword muttered as he turned to look out the window. “The Changeling invasion, being attacked by Black Tips, getting called in front of a court for war crimes, and the gall of them to even try to paint me as a traitor.” He huffed. “I am really hoping this time goes smoother.”
Conor whistled. “Ouch.”
“It won’t,” Shawn replied, leaning back further into his seat as he laid his hands behind his head.
“I see that still hasn’t changed,” Conor said, smirking. “Still waiting to be pleasantly surprised, Shawn?”
“With this event, I don’t see a pleasant surprise, but I know Grif and his team will be able to handle it.”
“Better be careful, Shawn. If I didn’t know any better, I’d almost say you had confidence in me,” Grif said.
Shawn opened his eyes and looked at Grif with a blank stare.
“Well, I would rather have you in charge of security than whoever they got to replace Shining Armor,” Pensword grumbled. “Shinning was at least trying. He was the most competent of the modern day Royal Guard.” He sighed. “I have my work cut out for me when I get the military back on track.”
“Plenty of business for me in the interim though.” Grif laughed.
“Good thing we’ll be here a week. I get to work on a few plans that I’ve been thinking about,” Shawn said, a dark smile growing on his face.
“Good. I think I am going to meet with Queen Cadence to continue the plans for our trip,” Pensword replied as he slowly began to relax. The overall mood in the car reminded him of the good times before the war.
“Do I even want to know what you’re planning, Shawn?” Conor asked dubiously.
“Ah, you shouldn’t have to worry about it,” Shawn replied.
“And now I know I need to worry.” Conor sighed. “Just try not to maim too many people, alright?” he said with a wink.
“Good, Conor is learning.” Pensword laughed. “Oh, we are coming up to the tunnel.”
As the darkness consumed the train, the interior lights flickered to life as their flames bobbed on their wicks. “So uh … which platform is this? I thought Canterlot’s was supposed to be out in the open on the edge of the city,” Conor said.
“This is a more private tunnel, mainly reserved for royals and high nobility. We get a special access to the capital,” Pensword said.
“And here is where the ‘fun’ starts,” Shawn said as he sat up.
The train screeched to a halt as the friends stood to walk out the door. A full squad of guards stood lined on either side at full attention as a large pegasus waited patiently before the door, his broad wings tucked primly against his side. His coat was a stark yellow that gradually faded to a light blue as it hit his mane before turning completely dark. Blue streaks accented the tips of his feathers as he saluted to the company while three guards proceeded to open the train doors. His neon green eyes looked respectfully on the assembly as they disembarked.
“Greetings, your Lordship, I’m Captain Pansy,” the stallion said in a light tenor. “The Princesses asked that I and my men escort you and the rest of you party to your quarters. Rooms and beds have been prepared for each of you for the duration of your stay.”
“Alright then,” Shawn replied simply.
Pensword exited the train car next. He stood at attention next to the couch car’s door as he awaited the disembarkment of the soon-to-be Princess Twilight Sparkle.
“I want a full mapping of where your guards are, captain,” Grif said as he stepped off the train. “I need to know where to disperse my people.”
“It’s already prepared.” The colt took out a large sheath of folded parchment from his breastplate. “I want everything to go smoothly just as much as you do. If there’s anything I or my troops can do to help, we will.”
“Your guards understand that anyone found with ill intent has no chance of survival, correct?” Grif asked as he took the parchment.
“I had a feeling you’d say something like that. The protection of the Princesses is our number one priority. My men aren’t willing to go quite that far, but we know you gryphons know how to do a job right. I’ll trust you.”
“That’s why I was hired,” Grif said. “Your men are to be informed that they are under no means to obstruct any and all actions of any gryphon wearing this symbol.” Grif tapped the crest on his chest peice. “And, rest assured, Celestia herself approved of this.”
“I’ll make sure to apprise my men. Private Arte,” Pansy barked.
“Yes, sir?” a somewhat smaller unicorn with pale green fur and a white mane stepped forward.
“Take a rubbing of Sir Grif’s crest and make sure to get copies to every sergeant in Canterlot. You have my authorization to use dragon fire delivery. This is of the utmost priority. I’ll include a set of written orders to go with it, which you will also replicate and send out. I want no mistakes from anypony this week.”
“Sir, yes sir!” The pony saluted awkwardly as he rushed forward, levitating a piece of charcoal and spare parchment to take a rubbing of the etching in Grif’s armor. Once he was done, he returned to his post in file with the other guards.
“I want those copies started now, Private. On my desk by the time we finish the escort. Move!” Pansy barked. Arte bolted, his hooves clattering down the corridors and through the cavern as they receded. “He’s a capable enough scribe. Don’t know what he was thinking entering the guard though.” Pansy shook his head. “Will that suffice, Sir Grif?” he asked.
“It will,” Grif said. “I think it’s likely we’ll be having changeling infiltration, so have lanterns posted in tactical areas and keep a tab on any gryphons not wearing my symbol.”
“And what of the allied changelings? Should we be expecting any of them?” Pansy asked.
“The allied hive changelings have normal pony-like eyes and lack the holes in their hooves and bodies. If you still are unsure, you can direct one of my people to the problem, but please remember they won’t be following orders from you.”
“I understand. I only ask that if one of my guards chooses to disregard my orders you don’t kill him or her. Anything else is perfectly fine.” One of the guards’ mouths dropped.
“Is there a problem, Sergeant?” Pansy asked without turning. The unicorn gulped and stood back at attention.
“I will order for no deaths, but I can’t tell them they can’t duel if they feel insulted. That's not my right,” Grif said.
Pansy nodded. “As I said, as long as they don’t kill, I’m fine with any other measures. It’ll teach the rest of the guard humility. Celestia knows we need it.”
Pensword remained silent before snapping back to attention. “Princess-to-be on DECK!” he shouted as Twilight stepped off the train car.
The guard immediately drew their swords in a salute.
“Princess Twilight,” Pansy said, “welcome back to Canterlot.”
“Thank you, Captain, but just Twilight will do. I’m not a princess yet,” she said nervously as she blushed.”
“What are you talking about, darling? Of course you’re a princess.” Rarity placed a hoof around Twilight’s neck and smiled. “You might as well get used to this now, dearie. You’ll be getting a lot of this kind of treatment from now on.”
The rest of the mane six soon disembarked, their cloaked guards sticking to their charges, even as Rainbow shot an angry glare back at Gilda before turning to cluster around Twilight with a smile.
“Well, it looks like the gang’s all here,” Conor said as the rest of the gryphons disembarked from the third carriage. “Where to next?”
Pensword grimaced briefly at the comment before straightening his face and moving to stand as close to Twilight as he could manage. “Twilight, if needed, I am willing to help go through any lists for your Personal Guard.”
Twilight chuckled nervously. “Uh, no thanks, Pensword. I think Spike would prefer to do that.” The little dragon smiled as he hugged her leg. Twilight placed her other hoof against his head and leaned her muzzle down with a loving smile.
“If you all would be willing to follow me, we’ll take you to your quarters,” Pansy said as the gryphons and guards formed up around the party. From this time onward, Grif and his warriors were on the clock.
Pensword looked at the map and back up at Grif. “I am sorry I cannot join in the patrols; however, I can say that I directed Gilda and Rainbow Dash to the room I was using a while ago for their heart to heart.” He broke off from the map and started to pace nervously.
“Just relax,” Grif said. “I have everything under control.”
“I Sure hope so,” Pensword said, deadpanning.
“Thanks for the vote of confidence.” Grif deadpanned in return.
“You’re welcome.” Pensword smirked; then his expression returned to a more serious one. “So, anything I should be told about? I still take the fact I am the Commander of Equestrian Armed Forces seriously, even if the other nobles do not.”
“We haven’t even fully scouted canterlot yet,” Grif said. “When I know something, you’ll know something.”
“Thank you,” Pensword responded with a happy sigh. “Now if you excuse me, I have to meet with Princess Luna on what she needs of me for the ceremony, seeing as I am the top Lunar Noble.” He shook his head with an expression that couldn’t be read. “Hopefully it will be short and I can retire for the evening. We will make this work so Moon River will be present as well.”
The room was bare save for a long, empty table. The door had been shut as Dream Clan and Bladefeathers stood guard outside. Within, the two occupants stood facing each other with equally angry glares. None would back down.
“How could you even think I would want your help? I can handle myself,” the multihued maned and cyan coated Pegasus shouted back as her voice cracked.
“You seem to think I had a choice,” Gilda shot back.
“Of course you have a choice. You always had a choice,” Rainbow growled.
“I’ve been assigned to guard you. I can’t just get up and leave ‘cause I don’t like it,” Gilda said. “I’d be as good as dead.”
“Yeah, right. Sure you would,” Rainbow Dash said, her voice heavy laden with sarcasm.
“I’d be alone with no money and no way to maintain my weapons or armor. I’m sorry, but my life has actual problems,” Gilda said. “And I’m not making it worse because I couldn’t do my job.”
“Yeah? Well you haven’t exactly had a clean track record on that one, either,” Rainbow replied.
“I know!” Gilda snarled. “I get it, okay? If you’re going to hate me, then fine, but don’t use your two dimensional reasoning to prevent me from doing my job. I don’t tell you how to make the weather.”
“This isn’t about the weather!” Rainbow flew into Gilda’s face. “This is about my friends. If you think you’re off the hook just because you’ve been gone a year, think again. It doesn’t mean I forgot what you did. Those ponies are like family to me.”
“Good. I hope you're happy with them,” Gilda snapped. “But this is about my job. Nothing else. I don’t do this, I don’t eat. When this is over you can go back to your ‘family’ and you’ll never see me again.”
“Great! You can go back home and tell your family what a great warrior you’ve been. Protecting the elements of harmony. What an honor.”
“DON’T YOU DARE TALK ABOUT MY FAMILY!” Gilda roared into rainbow dash’s face. Her hands clenched into fists as she stood on her hind legs, trembling. “I returned home after leaving flight camp and you know what I found?” Gilda leaned in on Rainbow Dash “My entire clan was dead, killed by a rival clan while I was gone. Everything I owned? Gone. Everyone I loved? Gone!” Her voice suddenly dropped to a quiet, closely controlled tone.
“And when I came back to Equestria seeking the one person in the entire world I have left, she pushed me away. My sister abandoned me. She left me alone and I spent the next year using the few skills my family taught me to stay alive. So go on. Hate me. Tell your damn ponies how horrible I am, but don’t you dare speak about my family, or winds help me, I will kill you myself.” Silence filled the room as the pent up fury finally vented.
Hollow and numb, Gilda spoke up one last time, her voice barely above a whisper. “You wanna know what the worst part is?” She smirked briefly before looking down again. “I’ll never forgive myself afterwards.” With that, Gilda turned around to face the wall, leaning against it as she ground her talons into the mortar before she did something she’d regret. It also served to hide the tears.
Rainbow Dash hovered for a time. She opened her mouth, closed it, opened it again. Nothing came out. Gilda heard the thump as Rainbow settled down on the stone floor. Silence reigned as its sister, regret joined in. It would be a long week indeed for these two sisters: the pony and her guard.
In the crystal caverns beneath canterlot, the miners had been given a week long vacation in honor of the coronation, so the mines were devoid of workers. What they were not devoid of, however, were thestrals, and as Luna’s moon rose high over Canterlot, they and their chieftess assembled in meeting. The former chieftains, now lords and ladies of the Lunar Realm, while still unlanded, took the slot of speakers for the varied new noble houses. Pensword also found himself at this meeting as the High Duke of Ys.
Out of habit, Pensword sat with the Dream Clan. He felt better here as he was expected to attend with a weapon, for one thing. For another, he still had trouble feeling like he could fit in with the nobility in Canterlot. The dirty looks and power struggles from the Third Gryphon War played over and over again in his mind. However, he would not speak openly about his feelings to any but his wife, and so, held his peace as he waited for High Chieftess Luna to call the meeting to order.
“My nobles.” Luna bowed her head to them as she held Meteor Impact as a sign of her strength and authority over them.
“Our Chieftess,” the nobles of the Lunar Realm replied back.
“My children,” she smiled, “in the next eve hence, there will be a ceremony where you will each show your loyalty to the new princess and to my sister.”
A few of the new dukes and dutchess shuffled nervously at the last comment. Duke Flury Fang spoke up. “How do you wish for us to show our loyalty?” He looked around quickly, his posture growing both relaxed and more confident as he saw the others nodding in approval.
“You will each swear and oath of fealty to them and to Equestria,” Luna said. “But, of course, you will not present your weapon. That is my right and mine alone.”
The Thestrals in the room relaxed in one body as they collectively let loose a sigh of relief. “Very well,” Flury Fang of the wolf clan responded. “Shadow Wing of the Fox Tribe wishes to ask a question.”
“Our Chieftess,” Shadow Wing began. “Do we get to choose which to swear fealty to first?”
“Traditionally, it goes from oldest to youngest,” Luna said as she seemed to be examining meteor impact before, quite suddenly, she brought it down, leaving a crater in the floor. “But it is not our way. Our way is to swear loyalty only to someone you will respect. You will swear your loyalty as you see fit, not as their traditions dictate.”
“Thank you,” Shadow Wing responded with a low Thestral bow. The other leaders, Flury Fang, Silent Hoof of the Manticore Tribe, Long Mane of the Lion Tribe, Vulcan Scales of the Dragon Tribe, Blitz Fang of the Viper Tribe, and Lone Claw of the Bear Tribe followed suit.
“Our Chieftess is as wise and giving as ever,” Lone Claw said, his mane tinted by streaks of grey.
“I live only for my subjects,” she responded with a low nod.
“And how shall we gauge if they are worthy? A battle of arms does not seem something that would fit with the filly,” Vulcan Scales said, his scale patterned armor glinting in the dim light of the crystals.
“And yet she was the one who released me,” Luna said. “She also defeated and re-sealed the demon, Discord, was instrumental in the death of the Dark Sorcerer Sombra, and aided in the ongoing reformation of the aforementioned Discord. Are these accomplishments not far more than even my own?” she asked them. A murmur ran through the cave as the council of new nobles spoke amongst one another.
“I know not what you all shall decide, but as for me and my house, we shall pledge loyalty to Princess Twilight. I swore Fealty to the two princess already.” Pensword smiled coyly. “If Princess Celestia still has not gained thy respect, we should pledge our fealty to her last.”
“Then do as you will,” Luna said.
“So be it, then,” Flurry Fang said, his wild mane sticking up behind him as he clopped his hoof against the crystal floor, filling the cave with a musical tone of finality.
Grif waited anxiously on Canterlot’s main platform. Kalima and Shrial would be arriving on the next train at any moment and he had promised to meet them since he couldn’t guarantee how much time he’d be able to give them during the week. The gryphon tapped his talons against the wood anxiously.
The Canterlot Express was a more white and gold engine with coach cars as it huffed into the station, steaming in the mountain air. The engine was engulfed as it braked and hissed. A bell clanged, mixing in with the sound of activity around Grif. He heard the door opening from one of the coach cars as a loud clopping met his ears, followed by a very familiar voice.
“Why, thank you, Big Guns. It’s always so nice to see a young man willing to help an old bird out.” Kalima smiled as the big minotaur blushed. Shrial soon followed her new mother-in-law as she stepped off the train, the steam leaving her fur and feathers glistening as it began to clear.
Grif moved forward and instantly embraced Shrial first, proceeding to kiss her on the beak. The kiss lasted long enough to question its chasteness before Grif let her go and moved over to embrace kalima in a hug.
“And how’s my son doing on his first big job?” Kalima asked, a playful gleam in her eyes.
“No attacks yet, though I’ve got a tail on at least two separately contracted gryphons and a badlands changeling,” Grif noted. “I’m also trying my best to avoid the mutts.” He released her and turned to Big Guns. “Thank you for seeing to their safety, my friend.” He offered his talon.
“The pleasure was all mine.” Big guns took the talon in his four fingered hand. “If anypony tried something, Big Guns would made sure they’d regret it.” He fingered his war axe with surprising familiarity.
“That’s why I didn’t assign anyone else.” Grif smiled. “I hope you will do me the honor of protecting them during this week?”
“After what Thalia did for me? You bet.” Big Guns grinned. “And who knows. Maybe I’ll meet a minotaur or two while I’m here. Might as well get to know a little more about my species.”
“I have heard the lord of the Long Horn Tribe has come to pay his respects,” Grif offered. “The Holsteens, however, have taken this coronation as an offense. I may have to kill a few of them during this week. Please don’t take it personally.”
“No worries there.” Big Guns snorted. “Anybody tries to hurt Twilight, they deserve what’s coming to them.”
“You’re shaping into quite the warrior, Big Guns. I’m going to have to test how skilled you’ve become with those blades sometime. Zecora’s been teaching you how to handle them, right?” Shrial asked. Big Guns blushed.
“Yeah, she has.” The battle hammer on his back, with its living wood, turned a bright cherry red.
“Good. We’ll see about that sometime before the coronation. I’m sure the guards won’t mind if we use their training grounds,” Shrial said.
“Yes, ma’am,” Big Guns said. He knew arguing with the willful gryphoness was useless as he rubbed a sizable lump on his head. That rock she’d thrown had weighed a lot, and Shrial had surprisingly good accuracy.
Smirking on seeing the Minotaur’s reaction, Shrial turned to face her mate. “So, where to, Grif?” she asked as she fidgeted with her armor. Kalima smiled knowingly.
“Well, we should get you set up in the palace.” Grif smiled. “I think it will be better. Then you can get out of that armor for a bit. Remember, you’re not on duty; you're here to relax, spend the princess’ money, and be there for the coronation. For the next few months you only have one job.”
“I know, I know. Make sure to keep these little ones safe and sound,” Shrial said as she put a hand to her stomach before caressing Grif’s beak and pulling him in for another kiss. “You will be safe, won’t you?” She asked, concern written on her brow.
“I’ve got one gryphon for every ten guards out on patrol right now, and if there’s one thing you know I’m good at, it’s tracking things down and making them dead,” Grif reminded her.
“I know. I just worry sometimes,” she said.
“We’d best be going, Shrial,” Kalima said as she lay a taloned hand on the mother-to-be’s shoulder. “There’s a great deal to do before the coronation, and I, for one, would like to see what the royal palace is like. You think you can humor an old bird?” she asked as she winked at Grif.
Shrial sighed. “I guess you’re right.” Then she smiled. “I’m looking forward to seeing you tonight, though, Grif.” With that said, the party departed the platform as they made their way through the station. “Oh, can we stop somewhere along the way?” she asked. “I have the strangest urge for coffee and donuts.”
“I might know a place.” Grif laughed as they made their way out of the station and into the crowd.
“You heard me right, Captain,” Shawn said as he casually leaned on his cane, peering at Pansy from behind the desk.
“You do realize I’ve mobilized the entire garrison, as is, just to keep the order here. Even with Grif’s help, Canterlot’s going to be a major hoof full this week,” Pansy said as he placed yet another letter into the dragon flame lamp.
“Considering the amount of Gryphons Grif brought, as well as how much he has trained them, I’m positive they can handle the situation for an ‘hour,’” Shawn replied.
Pansy narrowed his eyes. “Just what are you trying to prove, Lord Shawn.”
“Not trying to prove anything, and please, no titles,” he replied before a small smirk grew on his face. “I’m simply wanting to test the skill and capabilities of the guard.”
“And you’re sure that won’t be a hinderance?” Captain Pansy asked as he motioned towards the cane.
“If anything, this is overkill,” Shawn said, the grin still on his face.
Pansy sighed. “I can’t exactly deny a direct request from a lord.” He placed a hoof on his chin. “Give me some time to talk with Grif about it. I don’t know if he’d approve, but if he agrees to cover the city, I am willing to allow your request.”
“I’m sure he’ll love the idea,” Shawn said with a light chuckle. “Isn’t that right, Grif?”
“Yeah, we have enough gryphons to do this job on our own. An hour is nothing.” Grif chuckled as he entered the room, silently signaling two gryphons outside the window that they could finally interrigate one of the detected changelings unhindered.
“You’ll accept full responsibility?” Pansy asked, his expression grave.
“Honestly, I accepted full responsibility when I accepted the contract. Two hundred or so badly trained fighters isn’t going to change my plans one way or the other,” Grif said. “No offense.”
Pansy sighed. “As much as I’d like to object, none taken. Half these soldiers don’t even know the meaning of the word fight. They just like to prance around in their armor and put on a show. I’ve been trying to change that.” He looked to Shawn. “If it’s a sparring match you want, it’s a sparring match you’ll get. We’ll start with the noblemen in the troops. That way they won’t feel nervous about challenging an equal. Give me a few hours to get things organized and meet us in the training grounds at the barracks.”
“I’ll be waiting,” Shawn said as he walked out with a flourish of his coat.
Twilight looked suspiciously behind her as she eyed their bodyguards and their colored cloaks. Casually, she sipped at her tea with a hoof as she looked around the table to her friends. Rainbow Dash nodded as she drank deeply from her cup, which had been laden with sugar. Twilight flared her wings as her horn glowed, casting a spell. Before the gryphons could react, a large, purple-pink bubble had surrounded the six, preventing all sound from getting in or out. The Guards cursed as they hacked and slashed at the barrier, only to find their weapons ineffective. The princess-to-be astutely noted when one of them left out the door. “Alright,” She began, “I’m guessing we only have a few minutes before Grif gets in here and breaks the spell, so let’s get our business done before he has the chance. Rainbow Dash, what is it you wanted to talk to us about?”
The pegasus fluttered nervously inside the bubble, a behavior that was very unlike the normally brash and assertive pony. “I… I think I screwed up, you guys.” Rainbow was barely able to choke the words out.
“How do you mean, dear?” Rarity began. “This wouldn’t happen to have anything to do with a certain gryphoness, would it?”
Rainbow nodded and blushed. “I just learned something big. Something huge!”
“Oh dear,” Fluttershy responded with a look of concern. “What’s wrong?”
Applejack nodded sagely. “I think we can promise not to tell any others if that’s what you want.” She looked to Rarity. “Isn’t that right, sugarcube?”
“Of course, darling,” Rarity responded.
Rainbow Dash took a big, long breath before she told the story of her fight with Gilda and everything she had learned.
Twilight looked into her teacup for a moment. “I think you need to apologize. You don’t have to be friends right away, but if you’re going to put this behind you, you need to start somewhere.”
“Thats never going to cut it,” Rainbow Dash exclaimed, shaking her head. “Twilight, I abandoned her.” Tears slowly began to develop in the pegasus’ eyes. “I was all she had left and I sent her away.” Rainbow dropped into her cushion with a big flop and flopped her head between her forehooves as she splayed them on the table.
“You didn’t know any better, darling,” Rarity said as she put a consoling hoof over the Pegasus. “None of us did.”
“I didn’t bother to ask, did I?” Rainbow said. “I knew something was up. I mean, it’s a long way between Ponyville and the empire, and with her family, she could never do long trips at the drop of a hat. I knew something was wrong and I didn’t ask. When my mom died, Gilda was right there for me. When hers was gone, I left her alone.”
Pinkie Pie appeared beside Rainbow Dash, hugging her fiercely. “Well, Dashie, all we have to do then is find some super duper most important way of saying sorry to Gilda. If she wants to try and be friends with us again, we can try too. Ooh, I know, I know! We can throw a super duper I’m super sorry for hurting your feelings party! I’ll get started on the cake!” Pinkie fished around in her mane, pulling out flour, a mixing bowl, and other ingredients.
Twilight looked to Rainbow Dash. “Is there anything else you need to tell us, Rainbow? As it is, I’m afraid I just put Celestia in serious trouble. … And I think we just ran out of time,” she said, a little frightened as a very angry looking Grif strode into the room.
Grif stood in front of the bubble, glaring as he held a talon on the shield. The guards formed up behind him, watching intently. As the talon made contact the magic began to condense and crystallize. This spidered out quickly, forming an archway. With a careful flourish, the gryphon drew his sword and cut within the crystal, causing the magic of the bubble to shatter like glass before vanishing. “So, Twilight ... did you want this whole princess thing to end before it began? Is that it?” To make his point, he pulled something from his bag and threw it to the ground. Only after it had sunk into the wood did the ponies realize it was the horn of a changeling.
“If you’re gonna be angry, then be angry at me. I’m the one who put her up to this.” Rainbow Dash flew up and into Grif’s face. “I needed to talk with my friends about something important, and it had to be private.” Against her will, Rainbow Dash took a guilty glance at Gilda. “I don’t want to hurt anypony any more that I have.” She crossed her hooves as he realized she had spoken maybe a little too much.
“Twilight, what are the properties of the mandrake plant?” Grif asked, heedless of Rainbow Dash’s objection.
“It’s a powerful magical plant known for being extremely healthy for mothers developing children. It’s also able to completely bypass any and all types of magical blocking,” Twilight recited from memory.
Grif pulled out a bolt from his bag and tossed it down beside the changeling horn. “And what would these mandrake root bolts have done to the six of you in this bubble while your guards watched helplessly after they’d been trying to get to you over the last few minutes?” Grif asked her, looking around.
“I realise this is unpleasant for you. I realise it’s not nice to have someone you don’t really know shadowing you, but this is necessary. This isn’t something we’re doing because it’s fun. There have been 50 death threats sent to Celestia from foreign nations already towards the new princess and you girls, and two threats to take out the city in general. I’m trying to keep you alive. I know Equestria doesn’t do coronations very often, but believe me when I say this; until you're back at ponyville, all six of you are dancing on the edge of a knife.” Grif looked at Rainbow. “I’m pretty sure you learned about group responsibility back at the Wonderbolt Academy, Rainbow. You asked twilight to do this and she went ahead with it, and from the looks on the faces here, no one bothered to put up any objections. That makes all six of you at fault.
“I’m going to talk to Celestia, and, as I’m sure Twilight’s aware, if this happens again, I am going to be forced into more drastic measures than any of us would like. Movement restrictions, curfews, possibly even being confined to your rooms for the week.”
“What was I supposed to do?” Rainbow’s voice cracked. “Involve the entire guard in my mistake?” A pained expression crossed her eyes a moment and was gone. “I did what I thought was right.”
“You come to me and you request a panic room for the six of you to meet in,” Grif said. “You do not act like this. If I didn’t know any better, I would have believed Spitfire went over this plan with you; in regard to security and how to behave, at least.”
“No, she didn’t,” Rainbow Dash responded. “If we had a problem, we’d sort it out ourselves and take it to the skies.” Her expression faltered. “Um … can we have a panic room?” she asked weakly.
“... I’ll work on having one prepared.” Grif sighed. “As of this moment, I need to have you six moved. ‘Cause now they know where you are.”
Rainbow Dash nodded, returning to her normal posture. “Sure,” she said, trying to hide her still smarting ego. “I recommend separating us till the panic room’s ready.” She looked to the others. “I’ll see you later, girls,” she said as she slowly plodded out of the room, Gilda close behind.
“For what it’s worth,” Grif whispered as she passed, “she wants to forgive you. We’re a stubborn species, but I think you can still fix things.” A small spark returned to Rainbow’s eyes and she raised her head slightly before she fully left the room.
Grif nodded to Gilda as she left silently behind Rainbow. “Okay, as for the rest of you, I want these girls in different corners of the palace within fifteen minutes, preferably someplace with no windows. I’ll send a messenger for you when their panic room is ready. Get going,” Grif ordered. The remaining elements paired off with their guards and were led away.
Twilight remained in the room, staring at the arch Grif had crystallized. “How are you going to get rid of that anyway?” she asked.
“Unless shawn can use it, I’ll probably find somewhere out of the way and bleed it off slowly. It should be fine,” Grif said. “I’ve been practicing this part for a while. I think I can handle it.”
Gilda led Rainbow through the halls of the palace and down the stairs. “The best place is below ground,” she said, looking forward.
“Fine,” Rainbow Dash mumbled as they headed down the stairs. “I messed up again,” she sighed, most likely not realizing she’d said it aloud.
“At least you still have a life, people that love you,” Gilda said. “The screw up didn’t ruin your life, so mare up and deal with it.”
“But that’s the point. I could’ve handled it if it was just me, but I put everypony else in danger, too. I put you in danger.” Rainbow turned with a snort. “I’m the element of Loyalty.” Then her head lowered as her face fell. “Some element holder I turned out to be.”
“Danger is my life,” Gilda answered, drawing her axe. “This isn’t for show, you know.”
“I know,” Rainbow said. “Still, what I did back in Ponyville wasn’t right. I, well, I felt like you were tearing me away from my friends, making me choose one or the other.”
“... I was grieving.” Gilda spoke in a half hearted tone, staring into the darkness ahead. “It doesn’t excuse how I acted.”
“Sounds like we both weren’t the best girls,” Rainbow said as she looked to Gilda. The two continued on in silence for a time. “I know it’s not worth much, but ... I’m sorry,” Rainbow said, careful not to look the gryphoness in the eye just yet.
“Look,” Gilda said, puffing up for a time. Her pride was about to get to her until she looked at Rainbow Dash. In all her days with the mare, she’d never seen her like this. Her mane was down, her tail limp, and her eyes dimmed from their usual enthusiasm to dying embers. “I … I’m sorry, too,” Gilda finally let out. Unlike the first time, this, Rainbow could tell, came from the heart. “I just didn’t know how to tell you. You’re like the toughest person I know.”
“Same here, Gilda.” Rainbow Dash responded. “I want to say we can start from the beginning again, but we both know we can’t. So, maybe we can sort of meet up in the middle?” She asked, her voice a little more hopeful.
“I … I’d like that,” Gilda said.
She opened one of the cellar doors, leading them into the brewery where barrels upon barrels of apple cider sat in stock, waiting to be tapped. “You wanna to do the Cheer later?” Rainbow asked, her ears laid back a little.
“Not while I’m working,” Gilda said, shaking her head. “You think they're going to need all this?” she asked, gesturing to the cider.
“I don’t think they’ll miss just one barrel,” Rainbow said with a mischievous smirk. “Just wait till Cider season at Sweet Apple Acres, though. They have the best cider around, hooves down.”
Gilda selected a small cask and lifted it down, carrying it towards the brew master’s work area. She grabbed the mallet and the tap, lined it with the notch in the lid, and began driving it home.
Rainbow Dash seemed to be thinking about something. “Gilda, hold on a second.” The gryphoness stopped her work, looking up with a confused brow. “I, I know that I was a crummy friend in the past, but I, I want to do something before we start drinking. It’s something I should’ve done a long time ago.” She slowly walked toward Gilda, spreading her wings as she went. She turned her head and picked a primary Feather. Grabbing the best one she could find with her teeth, she yanked it out. “Gilda, I solemnly swear on my honor as a pegasus to stand at your side, and be there if you want me. Not just as a friend, but … awww shucks, I’m not good at all this mushy stuff.”
Gilda stared at her for a moment, tears welling up in her eyes. Finally, after a few moments that felt like an eternity, the gryphoness moved forward and Rainbow felt herself fully embraced in a bear hug. “Thanks.” It was the only word Gilda could say right now. “Thanks,” she choked.
“Sisters?” Rainbow Dash asked.
“Sisters.” Gilda laughed for the first time in a very, very long time as years worth of pain and stress began to melt. It would take time for all the scars to heal, but for now, this was enough. She smirked. “Now come on, ya slow poke, let’s drink,” she said, taking out a pair of dusty mugs from the table.
“Who’re you calling slow?” Rainbow said, her tone menacing. She held that pose for all of a few seconds before they both broke down into fits of laughter. Gilda proceeded to dispense the cider, and they both had a toast before entering a drinking contest.
“First one to the bottom of the barrel wins,” Gilda said.
“You’re on!”
Shawn stood leaning against his cane, a bored expression on his face as he waited for the guard to show up to the training grounds. He didn’t have to wait long as the uniform tromp of hooves and armor sounded, practically shaking the grounds as column after column of pony guards came marching into the arena and filing into the seats. Overhead, a shadow descended as Pansy alighted to the ground.
“There, that should be all of them. Things should be ready in about five minutes once the guards are finished getting into position,” the pegasus said.
“Perfect,” Shawn replied as he swapped the cane to his left hand. Reaching his hand up, he grabbed the grip of his greatsword, unsheathing it. He looked it over before flipping it in his hand and stabbing it into the ground beneath him, crushing some of the gravel to powder as other stones spat out in various directions with the force of the impact. “I’ll be fighting without this.”
“You prefer hoof to hoof combat?” Pansy asked.
“Nah, be sure each of them have a weapon,” Shawn replied as he looked to the group.
Pansy balked. “You’re kidding, right? Do you have a death wish or something?”
“Oh, that’s funny.” Shawn grinned. “I’m just making things fair.”
“Who do you think you are, Hammer Strike or something?”
“Nah, he has his method to things, I have my own,” Shawn replied with a shrug.
Pansy face-hoofed. “The things I have to put up with.” He sighed. Alright, if you insist, I’ll have my men use their weapons. I won’t allow lethal force, though.”
“Your choice.”
“Officers, line up: one on one!” Pansy looked at the Guards as they followed their orders. “House Jade, you can go first,” Pansy said as a white Unicorn with a green mane stepped forward, his golden armor gleaming.
The unicorn sat there, complacent for a time as he gauged his opponent. In a spilt second, he struck, moving for the cane. He had been very accomplished in his guard training, which made it all the worse when Shawn brought the ball of the cane into the side of his face mid-approach, sending the stallion to the ground and sliding to the side. Dust and gravel flew, shifted, and bounced with the force while the onlookers gawked. A collective gasp filled the stadium as several guards cringed.
“You know, I said I wanted to make things fair. At least send five,” Shawn called out to Pansy.
Cynical laughter slowly made its way through the arena as sergeants from various platoons pictured the things the guard could do to this upstart. Pansy looked at Shawn, more than a little surprised at how easily he had taken out the first soldier. Then he smiled. “Why not?”
The next five didn’t fare much better than their comrade. Three sweeping blows later they lay sprawled out around Shawn. Pansy kept smiling, even as the other nobles balked. About twenty minutes later, most of the guard were either knocked out or swaying on the sidelines, having been spared the dishonor their fellows would bring upon themselves. A variety of welts and bruises decorated their flanks, legs, and faces as they looked on or slept as the case may be.
“So, how many guards can you spare in total?” Shawn asked.
Pansy looked over the remainder of his troops. “Considering the number who’ll need bedrest now, probably about eight more, counting the four you said could stay on.”
“Let’s do all of them then,” Shawn said, leaning on the cane in his right hand.
Pansy raised an eyebrow.
“I mean, got to keep things interesting,” Shawn shrugged. “Don’t worry, I won’t injure them too badly,” he finished, giving a dark grin.
Captain Pansy barely suppressed the shudder. “Attack!” he ordered.
The eight guards spread out, this time attempting a multipronged attack. shawn answered them with large sweeping blows. A pair of hooves managed to slam into his shoulder moments before he spun around, bringing the ball end of the cane into the pegasus’ chin. The pegasus spun in the air, landing on his hooves as he rubbed his jaw. Surprisingly, he was still standing.
“Well, that was one hit,” Shawn said aloud. “Should give that colt a raise or something for that.”
“I’ll consider it.” Pansy said, smirking as the rest of the guards were systematically dealt with. The pegasus, much to his credit, turned out to be the last pony standing, and even got the chance to shake Shawn’s hand in a show of sportsmanship when the fight was done. Humility had been dealt swiftly. Maybe now those lazy ponies would actually start to take the job seriously.
“Alright, listen up everypony. I want you all to report to the infirmary. Anypony who’s unconscious or unable to move will be assisted by their fellow guards. File the nature of the affliction as a training accident, understand?” Pansy asked. The ponies grumbled.
“I said, do you understand?” Pansy yelled.
“Sir, yes, sir!” The ponies said, not willing to risk a second beating. They soon hobbled, hovered, and levitated their way out the entrance and towards the infirmary. Their slow, heavy gait seemed more like a funeral march than a military one.
“I guess this finishes our ‘training’ session then,” Shawn replied. “A shame that I’m unable to fully move and fight just yet. Still healing and whatnot.”
The Guards all froze briefly before moving a little quicker to get away from this being. Shawn heard one noble’s son speak under his breath. “Glad they’re on our side.”
“I’ll leave you to your duties, Pansy,” Shawn said as he pulled his greatsword out of the gravel and put it onto his back. “Have fun.”
“After what I just saw, I don’t know what could be better. Thanks for roughing them up for me. Now I know where they need to improve most.”
Shawn smirked and gave a two fingered salute as he walked to the main gate, his coat billowing behind him as the wind blew the dust from the gravel he trod on.
The light filtered into the Canterlot throne room through the stained glass windows, bathing the hall every color imaginable and giving a fitting rainbow display to the event that was to take place. The coronation was now less than 72 hours away, and, unfortunately, this meant taking care of the less glamorous side with welcoming a new royal: the politics.
Celestia stood to the left of her throne dressed in her full ceremonial jewels and torc. The only peice off about her usual formal display was the polished greatsword strapped to her side. The blade, while similar to the original, did not compliment the the sheath in which it sat, telling of the lesser quality of the blade itself.
To the right of the throne, Luna stood in her full ursa armor. Only replacing the helmet with her tiara, she stood a great image of imposing strength. As always, Meteor Impact was strapped on her back. The great war hammer looked far too ancient and powerful in comparison to the sword Celestia now carried.
Directly in front of the two stood Queen Cadence, her body cloaked in a robe made of fine scarlet and purple thread as a testament to her station as ruler of the Crystal Empire. Her tiara had been replaced by the ceremonial crown of the empire. Suspended in her magic, a gold scepter with a large diamond cut like a heart at the top sat waiting.
All three authority figures stood straight, their posture perfect, their expressions serene, something made even more impressive by the fact they had held this pose for almost three hours as Fancy Pants continued the traditional speech.
“And so, by the edict of Faust, as decided upon by the founders of Equestria upon their choice of giving the kingdom over to Celestia and Luna, as an alicorn, we welcome you as our new princess. As speaker of the house, I hereby give the nobles’ support for this forming of the fourth royal house. Faust bless House Sparkle. Long may it rule, and glorious be its reign.”
“Long may it rule!” the guards and other assembled ponies echoed.
“And now, your highness, if you would take the stand in order to nominate your deputy houses.” Fancy Pants gestured to Twilight with a hoof before stepping down.
“... I can’t feel my legs,” Fancy pants whispered to Fleur as he sat, exhausted.
Twilight Sparkle nodded as she did her best to hide her nervous expression. She gulped as she stepped onto the stand and looked upon the gathering.
“Thank you, Fancy Pants. It’s truly an honor to know that I have the support of all Equestria’s nobility in this. As you all know, no princess is anything without her support, her houses, to depend upon. These houses become her friends, her closest allies, and those to whom she can turn in times of need. Bearing these things in mind, it is my desire to form five new houses under my standard to be my allies, my advisors, and my constant friends. I propose the families Apple, Pie, Belle, Dash, and Fauna. They’ve been my constant friends in life, protecting me, helping me, loving me, as I have in turn with them. It seems only fair that my closest friends stay my closest friends in the coming years as we build the kingdom together.”
“Are there any objections?” Luna asked, looking to Fancy Pants and the others.
“The House of Lords will accept the princess’ decision on this matter,” Fancy Pants answered. He took his monogram off and polished it casually as he looked to the princess meaningfully before returning the lens to its proper place. The predetermined signal forewarned Luna that the choice was not totally without complaint.
“Very well, then,” Luna said. “Let it be known from this day forward that these aforenamed houses are now nobility and granted the same rights, privileges, and responsibilities involved with such titles.”
Cadence stepped forward with an encouraging smile to her little sister-in-law as she raised the scepter. “Let the ponies step forward.”
The five aforementioned ponies did so hesitantly.
“As Queen of the Crystal Empire, and Princesses of Equestria, we three stand here as witnesses of the verification of royal blood. These five ponies have proven their nobility time and time again in the defense of this country when no other would rise to its aid. Many fled in terror. Others fled to their homes, barring entry to all who stood in need. These five would not. Standing with Princess Twilight, they took the elements of harmony in hand, saving our world from untold calamity, and saving my Empire from the desolation and slavery that came from the dreaded King Sombra. For such loyalty, honesty, generosity, kindness, and laughter, we thank you.” With that said, and more than a few nobles stinging from the Queen’s remarks, Cadence levitated the sceptre to Twilight.
“Princess Twilight, they are your friends. Will you do them the honor?” Cadence asked.
Twilight took a deep breath before concentrating. In a flash of purple light, something materialized into her magical grip. The glaive staff stood at just over six feet long with a long oak handle treated with different preservatives and varnishes. Runes glowed faintly in response to the magic that held it aloft. At the end, pointing towards the floor, a long, thin double-edged blade stretched outwards. on the other end five long root-like tendrils grew, which each held five smaller stones the same color as her friends’ elements. A large, pale ruby that had been grown with amethyst veins within to form a familiar six pointed star sat proudly on its own stand, secured and protected by the roots and supporting stones.
“I, Princess Twilight, extend to my you friendship and my love. Will you swear fealty to me and my house, and support me as you always have?” She asked. While her bearing was confident, her eyes told a different story to the five friends who stood before her.
“Of course, silly filly,” Pinkie said, the first to speak.
“We’re always with you, sugarcube,” Applejack followed up.
“We’ve always got your back,” Rainbow said with a cocky smirk.
“Of course. Who else could you rely on to make all your royal gowns?” Rarity asked with a mischievous smile.
“Um … what they said,” Fluttershy said, blushing violently.
Twilight’s eyes watered briefly before she swept the tears away with a foreleg as her friends all knelt before her.
“Then by the powers vested me, I dub you Dutchess Applejack, of Sweet Apple Acres; Dutchess Fluttershy of the gentle forest; Dutchess Rainbow Dash, Nature’s Hoof; Dutchess Pinkie Pie, Lady of Laughter; and last, but not least, Dutchess Rarity of the gem fields. Rise, Ladies of the court. Rise, my friends.” Twilight beamed as the mares rose to their hooves and she embraced each and every one of them.
“Then there is no more business to address in this meeting,” Celestia said, stepping forward. “Let it be written in the history books today that we accept House Sparkle as the new royal house of Equestria, and henceforth, she shall be coronated in three days’ time.” The solar princess stomped her hoof. “Court is dismissed.” As the nobles filed out, the five friends swarmed Twilight in a massive group hug while their guards watched from the side, ever wary of attempts that may come, but even they couldn’t help but crack a smile at the scene.
“Atta girl, Rainbow Dash,” Gilda whispered.
Twilight Sparkle and her friends were led into a room that she remembered seeing only once in her life: the symbolic center of the kingdom, the royal council chamber. Where once there had been only three thrones, now a fourth stood around the table. Each throne with a cutie mark embroidered upon the back of the seat that rested on a three tiered deis. She recognized Celestia’s throne, designed to compliment the colors of her coat and mane, and then there was Cadence’s throne, followed by Luna’s. What brought pause was her own throne, sized the same as the others. Twilight knew it would dwarf her at the moment, but she had a feeling she would grow into it in time.
Celestia smiled as she led her former student to the throne. “Please,” She said in her kind, motherly voice. “Sit down and I’ll help you through the ceremony.” Celestia sat on the fluffy ornate carpet. Tapestries of Equestrian houses decorated the hall, yet the actual house emblems were emblazoned upon the vaulted ceiling. Several empty spaces and slots waited to be filled, and if Twilight knew anything about her teacher, Celestia was probably planning to do just that with new houses and emblems soon enough. Twilight quickly turned back and looked upon the gathering nobles.
“Members of the solar court,” Celestia spoke calmly as she eyed the inhabitants of the room. “When cadence was crowned as a princess, you were all expected to swear fealty to her. Today, Equestria has a new princess to be crowned, and as such, I would ask that you all swear your fealty to her, just as you swore to Cadence, and as your ancestors swore to me. Who will step forward first?” she asked, looking around.
“I think, your highness,” Twilight Velvet said as she moved to the front of the room. “In the fairness of our relation, it would be most fitting if my house swore its fealty first.”
“Very well, Velvet of House Twilight.” Celestia nodded. “Do you and your house promise to follow the rule of Twilight Sparkle? Do you swear to uphold the honor of its name? Do you pledge yourself to the strength of its crown?”
Twilight Sparkle looked nervously as her mother proudly lowered her head. “In the name of my house, I pledge House Twilight to the sun, the moon, the love within the heart, and to you, Twilight Sparkle.”
“I ... I accept your pledge, Mo--Twilight Velvet. I’ll do my best to be worthy of your name,” Twilight responded, her voice shaking slightly.
Twilight Velvet raised her head with a proud look to her daughter before backing away three steps. Then she bowed again. Twilight, at a whisper from Celestia, bowed her own head in acknowledgment. With that, Twilight Velvet smiled as she returned to the herd of the Solar Court.
Fancy Pants was the next to approach. He, too, proudly bowed his head and his voice held only sincerity and truth as he spoke. “In the name of my house, I pledge House Pants to the sun, the moon, the love within the heart, and to you, Twilight Sparkle.”
“I accept your pledge, Fancy Pants. I will do my best to be worthy of your name.” Twilight replied, her voice gaining a bit more strength to it. As Fancy Pants repeated the motions, Twilight returned with her own head bow. She gazed upon the rather large group as Fancy returned to join it.
The next to step forward was Baron Blueblood, who held a neutral expression. He bowed like the others, kneeling on his right foreleg as his head bowed deep to ground. “In the name of my house, I pledge House Blueblood to the sun, the moon, the love within the heart, and to you, Twilight Sparkle.” He did not raise his head as Twilight began to speak.
“I accept your pledge, Baron Blueblood. I will do my best to be worthy of your name.” She waited as Baron Blue blood got up and stepped back four paces before bowing. Twilight flicked her eyes to Celestia, she had picked up on the departure from routine. After a moment, Celestia nodded slightly and Twilight bowed in return, letting Baron Blueblood return to the group.
The rest of the nobility, from High Dutchess Platinum to Duke Pansy, all took turns to swear fealty to the new Princess. Twilight noticed that as they kept moving forward some were already leaving the room, their task over, while others yet remained.
Soon, only her friends were left to swear. This brought confusion as Celestia moved to sit on her throne and the five ponies found themselves slowly pushed forward.
Celestia looked to Twilight, then back to the element holders. “Do you, the bearers of the Elements of Harmony, swear fealty to all the crowns of Equestria?” Here, Princess Luna and Queen Cadence entered and took seats upon their thrones. “If you swear fealty to the crowns, repeat after me.”
The Element Holders repeated the words. “As Nobles,” Each one stated their new house name. “We do solemnly swear not just our own lives, but the blood of our future to the crown and to the ruling of Equestria in all fairness, so help us Faust.”
Twilight smiled at her friends before she turned to the herd of solar nobility, at least what remained of it. “Before we go, there is one more piece of business I wish to handle. There is a family who was thought to have died in service to Equestria during the Third Gryphon War. However, through working with a friend, it has become apparent they have a living descendant within equestria. This ancient family’s loyalty can never be brought to question. For this reason, I hereby take House Hooves in as a cadet branch of House Sparkle. In this action, I, with the support of Princess Celestia, award nobility and the title of baroness to Derpy Hooves of Ponyville by virtue of her bloodline from the last brother of Baron Happy Hooves.” Twilight spread her wings wide and looked down at them.
“By the power vested in us as Princesses of Equestria, we restore House Hooves’ rights and privileges as a noble house,” Celestia finished, clopping her hoof against the arm of her chair with a resounding whack.
They took time to eat dinner, and while others were going to bed, Celestia, Luna, Cadence, and Twilight were gathered on their thrones. Well, Luna was standing at the doors as she looked to her sister. She took a breath as she stepped forward with an air more recognizable in the Thestral society. She was fully dressed in her Ursa Major Armor. Above them all, a small full moon hung in the air, giving the room an eerie light as the only source of illumination.
“Thestrals of the Lunar Court,” Luna said, looking out over the Lunar Nobility. “The time has come for you to affirm your loyalty to Equestria by swearing your fealty to its princesses. Who will be the first?”
Pensword stepped forward, dressed in the armor of the Third Gryphon War minus the wing blades. On his back, the Ursa Minor cloak hung and glowed with the stars of a foreign land. He bowed, flaring his wings out in the manner of the thestrals. “By the light of the Moon, I, High Duke Pensword of House Pen, pledge the strength of the wings of House Pen to thee, Twilight Sparkle, and to thee, Princess Celestia. May the light of the full moon reveal the shadows of harm to thee.”
Twilight looked nervously at the small notecard in her hoof. “We accept thy pledge.” She bowed her head and flared her wings as well. “We shall strive to be worthy of thine honor and respect.”
Celestia bowed and flared her wings as well. “We accept thy pledge, and we shall strive to be worthy of thine honor and respect.”
A Thestral mare stepped forward next, dressed in traditional Thestral armor with hints of Lunar Guard accents. She was a moonkissed with a midnight purple coat, stepping into the light, even as Pensword stepped away. The two nodded to one another as friends passing. The Mare bowed and flared her bat wings. “By the light of the Moon, I, Baroness Whirlwind of house Dream, pledge the strength of the wings of the House Dream to thee, Twilight Sparkle, and to thee, Celestia. May the light of the full moon reveal the shadows of harm to thee.”
Twilight and Celestia followed suit with the same reply they gave to Pensword: what appeared to be a Thestral greeting tradition. The next to step forth was a Thestral stallion whose mane was as black as a lightless cave. His coat was a light wolf-grey. The moonlight gleamed off his full set of Lunar Guard armor. He bowed low, following the custom. “By the light of the Moon, I, Duke Flury Fang of house Fang, pledge the strength of the wings of House Fang to thee, Twilight Sparkle, and to thee, Celestia. May the light of the full moon Reveal the shadows of harm to thee.”
As twilight and Celestia once again replied, the stallion stepped back and returned to the herd. he nodded to a mare as she stepped forward. The Mare bowed, her mane a dark brown. The armor she wore was was a polished mix of solar and lunar armor. Her left eye had a nasty scar that was covered by a strap of cloth wrapping around her head. Her light brown coat stood out from the others. “By the light of the Moon, I, Dutchess Long Mane of house Lionpaw, pledge the strength of the wings of House Lionpaw to thee, Twilight Sparkle, and to thee, Celestia. May the light of the full moon reveal the shadows of harm to thee.”
And so it continued late into the night.
Conor lay in bed, mumbling in his sleep as he tossed and turned in the dark. A smile was on his face as he settled yet again and sighed contentedly. Tears ran down his cheeks, wetting the pillow as Princess Luna came forth from the shadows. She stepped slowly to the bed, observing the boy as he dreamed. She knew that look, knew those tears only too well from her banishment. Perhaps it would be better to let him sleep a while longer. Such dreams were of the few comforts she’d had on the moon. To deny it to this human, who essentially shared her fate, would be cruel. And yet, was it not for the purpose of alleviating worry and suffering that she had come? She paused a moment longer in indecision. Then she took a breath, exhaled, and proceeded to nudge the human on the shoulder.
“Awaken, young Conor. There is much to be done this night,” Luna said as she shook him.
Conor groaned as the motion took him from his slumber. Back into the darkness, back into the unfamiliar world of Equestria. He sighed. “What is it, Luna?” he asked, punctuating the question with a yawn as he rubbed his eyes, trying to wake his heavy limbs.
“It is time we corrected this issue,” Luna said, pointing to the bump on his forehead with a hoof. “My sister and I think we may have a solution.”
“And you had to wake me in the middle of the night to tell me this?” Conor asked.
“The spell requires secrecy and deep concentration,” Luna said. “We must be very careful about it.”
“Is it dangerous?” Conor asked, the sleep leaving his eyes as the weight of what Luna was saying finally hit him.
“Is anything worth doing truly not?” Princess Luna responded with a nervous smile.
“Luna, just tell it to me straight,” Conor said, sighing. “Why are you really taking me in the middle of the night?”
Luna sighed. Clearly she was out of practice. “We don’t know how shawn will react. Last time Celestia did something he didn’t like, she spent an entire week sparring with him straight.” Luna looked into Conor’s eyes. “We don’t know what he’d do to us this time.”
“So it’s not really dangerous, just something you’re scared Shawn’ll get upset over?” Luna nodded. “Okay, then.” Conor rose to his feet as he fumbled to pull his clothes on before turning to face the lunar princess. “Let’s go, Luna.”
Luna’s horn lit and the two of them vanished before reappearing in one of the long corridors in the palace next to Celestia. “We shall have to ‘hoof it’ from here as I’m told the expression is.”
“Fine by me,” Conor said. “Hello, Celestia.” Conor smiled. “So that’s what teleportation feels like.” His eyes spun slightly before he shook his head, returning them to normal. “What?” he asked as the princesses stared at him.
“Are you ready, sister?” Luna looked to celestia.
“Yes,” Celestia said, nodding gravely. “And I think the sooner we take care of this, the better.”
Luna led them slowly down the corridor, which Conor noticed was lined with mirrors of all manner of shapes, sizes, designs, and styles. Some were made of polished bronze, others brass, others silver. They all reflected the moonlight, lighting the corridor in silvery-white, except for one. Luna stopped before the large, ancient mirror. Its frame was formed of ebony and stylized with the figure of an alicorn traveling up on one side and a nightmare traveling down on the other. The face, however, was the real curiosity. A pool of dark and black seemed to devour the light that struck it.
“Okay … portal of some kind?” Conor asked, a little creeped out by the darkness. It rippled and writhed, constantly shifting in their presence.
“Sister, you’re really certain this is necessary?” Celestia asked, doing her best to suppress a shudder.
“I’m certain,” Luna said as she pressed a hoof to the mirror, causing it to ripple, not like water, but more like silk or some other type of smooth fabric. It reminded Conor of the old wave exercises he’d performed with parachutes as a child.
“Any words of advice?” Conor asked.
“Keep looking straight ahead, and whatever you do, keep your eyes on the path,” Celestia said as she shuddered yet again. “If you’d prefer, we can put a blindfold on you and lead you through.”
“Is it really that bad?” Conor asked.
“Can you imagine a perfect nothingness?” Luna asked. “Darker than black, reaching for eternity to your right and your left, both above you and below you?” Her face turned bleak. “For many, such a concept alone could lead to madness. To actually see it has drawn many ponies beyond the scope of sanity.”
“Back home, I was taught never to believe that a space like that could even exist. However,” Conor said, raising a hand to silence the alicorn before she could object. “This is not my world, and this is not my home. For all I know this isn’t even my universe. If you say it’s pure blackness and nothing but, a perfect void, I believe you. I don’t see how I’d lose my sanity from looking into darkness, but I think I can follow the rules pretty well. You do have a guardrail on the path, right?” he asked, a little nervously.
Luna shook her head. “Hold on to my tail,” she advised. “Let that be your guard rail.”
Conor nodded, looking nervously to Celestia.
“Don’t worry, I’ll be right behind you,” she assured him. “Just keep looking forward, and don’t let go.” With those words said, Conor grabbed Luna’s tail and did his best to prepare for what he was sure would be one of the strangest events he had yet to experience in his life. Then again, if he was able to meet with a giant talking crystal tree, he could probably survive this too.
Luna stepped forward into darkness and as she did, Conor was pulled along with her. The mirror washed over him with a biting cold that sunk down to his bones and burned at his soul. Conor shuddered as it hit him, feeling the goosebumps rise on his arms and legs as he followed behind. Mercifully, the painful sensation passed as they entered the darkness. Taking Luna’s advice to heart, he continued to stare dutifully ahead.
The walk was short and brisk, and Conor found he couldn’t identify the feeling beneath his feet. There was something for him to walk on, but he couldn’t quite place the texture. It was solid when he put his weight on it, but soft and sticky as he pulled away. Finally, warmth washed over his form as they passed through the other end of the corridor and back into the light.
Conor winced, squinting in pain as the full rays of the sun blasted his sensitive and overly-large pupils. Tears formed as he struggled to adjust, blinking every few seconds as they gradually shrunk down to an adequate size. “... Ow,” he said.
Stone surrounded the three of them on all sides as the large circular walls tapered upwards, stopping to form a small rounded hole at the top. Suspended in this hole was the largest crystal Conor had ever seen, held fast in a web of woven steel threads. He couldn’t believe his eyes. The crystal appeared to be concentrating the sunlight from above, focusing it into a large pillar-like beam over a massive anvil formed of pure sapphire. An enormous mallet lie in wait across the anvil, prepared to bend and shape metal to the will of the one who could wield it. Several large containers lined the walls, each filled with sorted ingots and ores of all varieties and types. Racks covered the wall, carrying weapons and armor of all varieties, descriptions, styles, and colors. A pool of lava bubbled casually to their left, bringing forth a volcanic heat which immediately caused Conor to sweat. On top of the pool sat a smelter of unique design to use the immense heat of the molten rock to melt and refine the metals. To their right lay a simple straw bed with a blue quilt and a silver silk pillow, as well as an old fashioned ice chest and a stone oven.
“It’s good to see this place again.” Luna smiled as she looked around the room. “Welcome, Conor, to The Lunar Forge.”
“Uh … wow,” Conor said, looking around. “If I’d known we were coming some place so hot, I’d have worn some shorts.” He chuckled. “Is this where you do all your forge work?”
“Unfortunately, I haven’t been back here since my return.” Luna sighed. “But I will be putting this old place to work again soon enough.”
“Aside from the heat, this is actually pretty amazing. I’ve never really been to a real forge before,” Conor said as he looked around. Celestia had perked up considerably as the magnified light shone in the room.
“As nice as it is to gloat, Luna, I think we should be focusing on the task at hand. We only have so much time before we need to be back in Equestria.”
“I wondered why we had so much sun.” Conor smiled knowingly. “So you took us to the other side of the world? Impressive.”
“Ponies are far less likely to look for you there.” Luna chuckled as she led them through the walls of weapons and armor before coming up to a small chest of trinkets. “We need something to enchant,” she said. “Something small.”
“Something to match his personality, too. It will need to look natural on his form.” It began to click together in Conor’s mind.
“You two are going to give me a spell like the others have, aren’t you?” he asked.
“Not exactly,” Luna said as she passed through several trinkets. “The others had forms that we gave them from the effects of the spell. We merely made a trinket that could enact the spell whenever they liked. With you, however, we need the spell to separate your two forms and make a bridge between them.”
“Okay, fair enough.” A series of consecutive no’s filled the room as Celestia and Luna hovered piece after piece before the human, ranging from rings to bracelets to medallions and beyond. Nothing seemed to “speak to [him].” Conor hovered with indecision over the few trinkets he had chosen out of the practical horde Luna had shown him.
“Conor, you need to decide quickly,” Celestia said nervously.
“I’m sorry, Celestia, I really am. I’m just not good at making these kinds of choices. Nothing really feels right to me when I try it.” Luna lifted the mighty hammer and slammed it on the anville, shaking the room and filling the air with the shudder of weapons.
“You have to decide, Conor. Even my patience has its limits,” Luna said, sighing. “Sorry,” she said, suddenly aware of how close she came to scaring the human. A light tinking sound rang clear as a bell as a glint of blue flashed in the light, rolling up to the human’s foot and spinning before finally collapsing on the stone. Conor stooped and picked up the mysterious item. A simple metal band about two inches wide greeted his eyes, gradually tapering to thin down as it broke off at its ends. A large white diamond stood out in its center, flanked by two smaller amethysts: one on either side.
“... What’s this?” Conor asked, running his hand along the metal.
“That old thing?” Luna looked at it. “I made it to commemorate the unification some time before the Third Gryphon War, but the metal was too stubborn to complete it the way I desired.”
“But it’s so beautiful,” he said, gazing into the diamond. “And … is that supposed to be a horse of some kind?” he asked as the flaws of the diamond suddenly came together.
“A windigo,” she explained. “A spirit which brings the ice and cold and feeds off the anger and hatred of others,” she explained. “They nearly ended Equestria before it started.”
Conor shuddered, a sudden chill racing down his spine. “That sounds terrible.”
“It was terrible. If it weren’t for the founding families, and more specifically Clover The Clever, Equestria would be nothing but a frozen wasteland. Her magic and her friendship saved our land. Shortly thereafter, my sister and I were made their princesses.” A sad smile came to Celestia’s lips. “Those were interesting times to say the least, weren’t they, sister?”
“How would we know?” Luna asked. “We were in Hopsford, remember? And we were fillies.” She laughed.
Conor took the band and placed it on his arm. It was a perfect fit. “Huh. And what species was this made for again?”
“Well, it was originally intended for a kangaroo tail ring,” Luna said, embarrassed. “It was supposed to be given to a foreign dignitary.”
“So what, it wasn’t big enough?” Conor asked, taking it off again.
“More it wasn’t good enough for her,” Celestia chuckled. “My sister is a bit of a perfectionist when it comes to the forge.”
“Ha ha, very funny, sister. I’m sure your royal baker must love that one,” Luna said. “‘Very funny, princess. Now, shall it be three cakes, or four this morning?’” Luna said as she deepened her voice and took on an ingratiating tone.
“I’m down to one cake a day, thank you very much,” Celestia said indignantly.
A gale of laughter filled the room as the two sisters turned to face the human where he bent over, tears at the corners of his eyes.
The two siblings glared at him. “What?” they said in unison. Then they looked at each other, then to Conor again. They smirked, then they snarked, then they finally joined the human in helpless mirth. When all had settled down again, Conor smiled.
“I think I like this one,” he said. “Do you mind if I wear it?”
“Of course not,” Luna said. “I suppose it’s better that you wear it before I end up melting it back down.”
“How could you destroy something as beautiful as this?” He asked as he handed the band over to her. “I’d say it’s some of your finest work, even if you say otherwise.” He smiled and Luna smiled back.
“Meteor impact will always be my finest work,” she said. “It is the first time I blended metal and organic matter into a weapon of such power.”
“If it survived Shawn, it can survive anything,” Conor replied.
Luna smirked. “Let’s get to work.”
Celestia joined Luna and smiled lovingly at her. “Yes, let’s, sister.”
Down inside the underbelly of the Canterlot palace, Grif was currently sitting in one of the cells with the nineteen gryphons not on guard duty. In front of them lay what had in life been one of the Black Tips hired to attempt an assassination of Equestria's princess-to-be. Catching him had been the easy part. Getting the information out of him hadn’t been quite so simple. Fortunately, some of the gryphons he had selected were talented in getting people to talk. Unfortunately, the gryphon in question hadn’t survived his aggressive “interrogation.”
Grif stared at the hastily drawn map of Canterlot carefully. Using the information they had received, as well as information from other sources, the map had been dotted with indicators of the positions for other Black Tips, changelings, two minotaurs, and even a handful of ponies from different supremacist groups. “Well, it looks like we’re going to have quite a party,” he noted.
“Who would have thought some pony princess would make so many enemies,” one gryphoness said. “So much for the nation of friendship.”
“Yeah, yeah, nobody’s perfect.” Grif rolled his eyes. “So, we’re going to need six of you with changeling lanterns spread out here, here, and here,” he said, marking the locations with a stick of charcoal. “You find a changeling, you either drag it behind an alley or have someone else do it. You already know what Me-Me’s changelings look like, so it shouldn’t be too hard to discern between the two.”
He turned to another group. “The seven of you have it easier,” Grif said. “Black Tips are weak in that they stand out to other gryphons. Make it quick and clean, a dagger between the ribs if possible. Try and walk away before they collapse.”
Grif turned to his four largest gryphons. “I think it would be best to leave the minotaurs to you four. Try to identify them quickly and take them by surprise. Go for the head, but try your best not to make a scene.”
“And what about the snipers in the rafters?” One gryphon asked.
“I’ll take those personally. I know a vantage point that’ll give me a total view of the area without making me too obvious.” Grif looked grimly around at the gathered gryphons. “This is a clean sweep situation. killing them is first priority. Doing it as discreetly as possible is also a priority, but killing them comes first no matter what. I don’t need to tell you all what could happen to our reputation if our first contract should be a failure.”
The assembled gryphons nodded. No mercenary band did well after failing their first contract. “Okay, boys and girls, time to sharpen your weapons and get ready. Tomorrow we begin our silent war.”
A hushed silence filled the great throne room of the Equestrian diarchy as Luna, Celestia, and Cadence all stood at the ready, beaming towards the great hall’s doors and wearing their very best royal apparel. Assembled in a series of rows on either side of a long red carpet, ponies from all over Canterlot and Equestria, alongside various foreign dignitaries, stood with anticipation as they spoke to one another over the mysterious new princess. The five new noble houses stood together with the princesses on the dais as they awaited the arrival of their friend while their five bodyguards stood diligently behind them, ever on the lookout for trouble. Shawn stood smirking off to the side as he leaned against one of the pillars jutting out from the wall, while Pensword stood in the front with the rest of the Lunar Court as he and Lunar Fang awaited the arrival of the purple princess. The Pegasi had made sure to keep the skies clear, and Celestia made sure the sun shone brightly through the stained glass windows, granting a great swath of color to shine over the assembled ponies and crowd.
Pensword kept his eyes forward as he wondered where Conor had disappeared to. Shawn’s smirk helped to reassure him. Conor was probably just somewhere towards the back. He wasn’t nobility after all, so he wouldn’t get priority placing. Pensword wanted to check, but the positioning and new noble responsibilities had made sure of his immobility.
Looking upon her subjects happily, Celestia surveyed the room, taking notice of a blue claw motioning the all clear from the door. The princess smiled, then cleared her throat, instantly hushing the incessant whispers.
“We are gathered here today in celebration of a momentous occasion. My most faithful student, Twilight Sparkle, has done many extraordinary things since she's lived in Ponyville. She even helped reunite me with my sister, Princess Luna.” Celestia looked to her sister with love in her eyes, even as the lunar princess blushed. “But this week, Twilight Sparkle has done something extraordinary. She created new magic, proving without a doubt that she is ready to be crowned Equestria's newest princess. Fillies and gentlecolts, may I present for the very first time, Princess Twilight Sparkle!”
The doors to the great hall were pulled open by a pair of wincing unicorn guards, their horns glowing as they stood and slowly rose their hooves in a salute. Clearly, they were still recovering from Shawn’s beating earlier. Twilight stepped nervously into the room until she caught her teacher and her friends’ smiles. Seeing those, she became more confident, taking the ceremony in stride as eight ponies followed behind her: four unicorn stallion guards and four earth pony mares bearing her new house standard on their backs. The standard itself was a simple one with a light purple backdrop accenting the largest star design on her cutie mark. As the eight sang together, Twilight’s mother looked on with pride and tears in her eyes. She clung to her husband, so happy was she to watch her daughter.
In the rafters, Grif took aim as a changeling with a crossbow prepared to take a shot. With a grin, the gryphon brought his own bow up and took aim.
As Twilight reached the stairs, her escort separated to the sides as they continued singing “The Princess Twilight Cometh, behold, behold,” over and over again. Twilight smiled at Celestia, Luna, and Cadence as Spike carried her tiara with the element of magic on a red satin pillow with golden tassels. Celestia took the crown in her magic and levitated it onto Twilight’s head. The new princess then turned her head to face her friends as they responded. Rainbow winked as Pinkie waved excitedly behind Fluttershy. The others smiled warmly, waiting for the next part of the coronation as they showed their support.
Twilight then turned to face the gathered ponies, extending her wings from her royal purple dress, which was accented by the gold trim and ribbons that went with her crown. Her new horseshoes, crafted out of pure gold, had been forged in such a way to show a tiny purple star, once again accenting her cutiemark and theme as the newest princess of Equestria. Her crown flashed magnificently as she smiled on those present in the hall while the white veil that was tied to the hem of her dress draped across the floor, adding that extra sense of elegance and grace so well known to royalty.
The singing and music masked the gurgling sound as another body slumped where it had been perched, an arrow lodged in its throat. Grif notched another arrow and scanned for his next shot.
The princesses turned towards the balcony behind them and slowly trotted out. Confetti floated on the wind and through the air, dropped by a platoon of pegasi to rain gently and evenly down on the gathered body below. Celestia winked in appreciation to one of the workers, who promptly gave a salute before returning to his appointed task. Thousands of ponies stood packed together in the square before the palace entrance, cheering and waving. Twilight smiled nervously and waved as they came to the railing. When this had gone on for long enough, Celestia walked up to her pupil and placed a gentle hoof on Twilight’s shoulder.
“Say something, Princess,” she whispered. Twilight started briefly.
“Oh, um …” She approached the edge as she began to enunciate. Unlike Luna, she had learned to modulate her voice in a royal manner that didn’t blast everypony’s mane askew, not to mention leave a few deaf for a time. Instead, it was as if she were holding a microphone to her throat.
“A little while ago, my teacher and mentor, Princess Celestia, sent me to live in Ponyville. She sent me to study friendship, which is something I didn't really care much about.”
She turned to face her friends and smiled once more, giving the speech both to them and to the crowd. “But now, on a day like today, I can honestly say I wouldn't be standing here if it weren't for the friendships I've made with all of you.”
The rest of the mane six made their way out of the castle, each smiling and tearing up. Rarity kept her eyes closed, a grateful smile on her face as the tears pooled on the edge of her eyelashes. Fluttershy rose a hoof to catch the tears before they fell. “Each one of you taught me something about friendship. And for that, I will always be grateful. Today, I consider myself the luckiest pony in Equestria. Thank you, friends. Thank you, everypony!” Twilight said as she turned once more to face her new subjects. The crowd cheered triumphantly as more waving, raving, hoof pumping, and other signs of excitement and acceptance were voiced and acted out.
As the company returned indoors, Shining Armor approached with Princess Cadence, Cosy, and Alto in tow. He smiled as he exclaimed “Twilight! I'm so proud of you!” He laid a hoof on her shoulder as the two bowed their heads, gently touching horns. Moisture began to pool on the corner of Shining’s eyes as drops of water made their way down his cheeks.
“Are you crying?” Twilight asked, smiling.
“Of course not,” Shining denied as he raised a hoof to dry the tears with his coat sleeve. “It’s liquid pride. Totally different thing.” The siblings laughed as they embraced once more, placing a forehoof over each other’s back. As Shining backed away, the rest of the gang gathered around her in their usual cheer.
“Way to go, Princess,” Applejack said, swinging a hoof in front of her chest in one of her usual country manners.
“Best coronation day ever!” Pinkie Pie sang as she hovered in the air, wobbling her hooves before settling to the ground.
“We love you, Twilight,” Fluttershy said as she approached behind Pinkie. Then they all surrounded her in a group hug.
“I love you too, girls,” Twilight said, overcome by emotion as she laid her head to her chest and basked in their affection. A few seconds later, they separated and Twilight called aloud. “Come on, everypony, it’s time for the parade!” Twilight ran out the room, her friends in tow as the nobles and other ponies gathered stampeded after her. Celestia and Luna sat, waiting as the doors swung ponderously closed and the hoofsteps faded.
“Alright, Grif, you can drop them now,” Luna said.
Several loud thumps sounded at Luna’s words as two changelings, half a dozen gryphons, and two pegasi dropped dead from the ceiling. Grif landed a moment later.
“Gotta say, the pegasi were a surprise,” he said.
“Sister, have the Pegasus Supremacists not been dealt with yet?” Luna asked, surprised. Celestia sighed.
“I’m afraid not, sister. They haven’t done any overt operations worth the punishment. By law, my hooves are tied.” Celestia frowned at the two pegasi: one a stallion, the other a mare. “So young.” Celestia sighed heavily.
“They made their choice, sister. When they went after Twilight, their lives were already forfeit.” Luna placed a supportive hoof on Celestia’s shoulder.
Grif moved across the bodies, retrieving the arrows. The ones he retrieved from the pegasi, however, he snapped before tossing them back. “These arrows spilled traitors’ blood. They’re no longer worth using.”
Luna nodded. “What’s done is done. Thank you for protecting her, Grif. I’ve grown rather attached to that little mare since my return.” She smiled fondly.
“I was paid to perform an essential service,” Grif said. “But in truth, for Twilight, I might have done it for free anyway.”
“Even if you’d offered, we’d still have paid you,” Celestia said. “You deserve it.”
“Now, provided my people in the crowd can get their targets, everything should go relatively smoothly,” Grif noted. “The coronation is the theater here. No one is going to go after Twilight once it’s fully over.”
“We’d best keep an eye on her from here then, just in case,” Celestia said. “I hope you’ll excuse us, Grif. It’s not that we don’t believe in your family. We just care about Twilight.”
“I understand.” Grif nodded. “However, it is good the largest potential hazard is over.”
Celestia’s ears perked and she smiled knowingly. “I hope you’re prepared, Grif. If I know my student, then I think we can be expecting a song to round things out in the next few minutes.” She smiled as she turned to the balcony. Luna nodded her respect to the gryphon before following her sister as they both smiled and waved from their position, watching with pride as Twilight entered one of her finest moments. True to Celestia’s warning, a musical air started to play as the new princess burst into song.
Pensword had retired to one of the smaller meeting rooms in Canterlot Castle. Looking to the ticking clock on the mantelpiece of the great carved marble stone fireplace, he tapped an impatient hoof on the table as he waited for the others to arrive. He looked forward to returning to his other role as Commander of Equestrian Forces. Sighing, he returned to sorting through the many party invitations from the Solar nobility. True to form, they were trying to butter him up. Several of the invitations spoke of roasted fruit bat and bear pie as featured dishes in the course. Did they not remember who he was before he became High Duke? He wondered if some of this was to try and brush away past impressions or worse yet--. He shuddered, deliberately pushing his thoughts away from ... marriage ties. The thought of his little Moon River being part of those stuck up, good for nothing families made his blood boil.
Shawn entered the room with a steady rhythm of clicks following each other step, his trusty cane still in hand.
“Hello, Shawn,” Pensword said, not even bothering to look up as he perused yet another letter. He folded it up and placed it to his left, then looked up and frowned. “Is this what you had to deal with all the time while I got to grow up again?” he asked.
“You get used to it after a few years.” Shawn said as he took a seat next to his friend.
“... A few years.” Pensword rubbed a hoof over his forehead. “I don’t know how I am going to make it.” Then he chuckled. “Then again, Lunar Fang would drag me back if I died from all this anyways.”
Grif walked in at Shrial’s side, following her at a careful pace. “And so would I.” He smiled as the two of them approached the group.
“Good, all we need are Lunar Fang and Conor,” Pensword replied as he nodded to Grif. “I may need to hire some Bladefeathers for my next outing to some of the parties I am invited to, along with the Dream Clan.” He shook his head.
“Well then, I’ll have to assign my best people. It would be a terrible time for you to die after all, especially now.” Grif smiled to shrial expectantly.
“Let’s wait for Conor and Lunar Fang, dear. I want to be able to share it with everybody,” she said.
Lunar Fang entered the room and smiled. “Moon River is with the Dream Clan, playing with her cousins.” She smiled dreamily. “I forgot what it was like to have a clan to watch and help.”
“That is good to hear. Moon River needs to learn that she is as much a Thestral as a Pegasus, even if the other nobles try to tell her otherwise.” He smiled. “She is, as Earth would have said, ‘Blue Blooded’ now. She has a right to rule.” He frowned. “To think this is where my path led.” He rose and trotted up to his Life Mate, giving her a nuzzle. “A path I would happily trot again.” Lunar Fang giggled at the attention.
The doors swung open as Conor stood at the door, his casual jeans and polo clung nicely to his frame as most of the pudge had disappeared. A long belt clung to his waist, holding the loose and scrunched waistband to his frame. He beamed as he ran a hand through his full head of hair, pulling some behind his ears to expose that they were perfectly round. Everyone gawked at him and the band he now wore around his left bicep. The bump was gone, the fur non-existent, his nails normal. “Hey, everybody. Sorry it took me so long to get here. I had to stop to ask for directions.” He chuckled nervously.
“Uh ... Conor?” Pensword began. “Did … what did you do? Shave?” He chuckled, “As for getting lost, good for you, asking directions.” Pensword frowned in confusion, his brows scrunching together. “Did the process reverse itself?”
“Um, yeah, sort of,” Conor said as he moved to sit down. “Not exactly on its own though. I uh, had a little help.”
Shawn squinted slightly as blue fire exited his eyes for all of two seconds before he sighed heavily, closed his eyes, and shook his head. “The path’s been taken, and now you’re bound here, just like we are.”
“Um, yeah, aren’t we all kind of stuck here till we find a way home?” Conor asked, confused.
“Bound by magic,” Shawn clarified. “If you leave it small and weak, it can be broken without problem, but the more you give it, the more it binds to you, and in a world without magic, it will die, and so will you.”
“Hold on, I thought you said it was because if your body fails it takes up the slack, so if a perfectly healthy human gets a strong field and is not killed, then gets it drained, would it not be that they live?” Pensword asked. “Besides, you think he would have been safe going back half unicorn half human? Would they have let him even walk the streets?”
“I don’t even want to imagine the lynch mobs.” Conor shuddered.
“I’m telling you this more as a warning. The field works with your body constantly, amplifying everything you do. And given that you have an internal field of Equestrian magic, the more you use it, the more the field works with it. If you don’t die by the lack of magic, you will suffer from severe weakness for a long time.”
“Basically, you're stuck here like the rest of us,” Grif said.
“So pretty much, it was a lose-lose situation.” Conor sighed. “Great.”
The silence hung heavily in the room. “Well,” Shrial said, finally breaking it. “I think now that everyone’s here, I can give the news, wouldn’t you say, Grif?” She asked mischievously.
“Yes, I think we could all use a mood brightener,” Grif said.
Shrial smiled. “We didn’t want to spoil Twilight’s fun,” She said. “But, Grif and I, we’re going to have cubs.” She beamed. Lunar fang was the first to react, flying to the gryphoness and hugging her in mid-air around the neck.
“You’re going to be in for the flight of your life, but I can say this. Nothing in the world compares to it.”
“I know.” Shrial smiled. “Mother’s not going to be too happy we didn’t tell her first, though.” She chuckled. “Hopefully she’ll understand.”
“Congratulations, Grif. And you too, Shrial.” Conor smiled from his seat, grateful the pressure had been taken off of him. “So what’re you planning on for names?”
“Well, we’ve heard from a very reliable source that it is, in fact, going to be twin girls,” Grif said. “So we were thinking one would be Athena and the other would be Gentle Wing, after shrials mother.”
“Sounds perfect. I’m guessing you guys are planning to decide which gets which after the birth?” Conor asked.
“Kinda difficult to name them beforehand,” Grif noted.
“Agreed,” Pensword added. “Still, congrats on the twins.” He shook his head. “Another fifty years and we should have ultrasounds, I think.” He looked to Lunar Fang. “I’ll explain later.”
“So, what’s this secret meeting all about?” Conor asked casually as he fiddled with his band.
Pensword looked to Grif. “Should I tell everypony, sorry, everyone here what we have to do?” He looked to Shawn. “Which gives you the chance to plan around us as well.” As he spoke, he put a crystal onto the table. As it settled, the color shifted from red to green. “It is safe to talk freely.”
“Some sort of portable silencing spell?” Conor asked as he looked at the crystal.
“Yes, you could say that,” Pensword responded. “That is all I can say, really. Classification reasons, you understand.”
“Sure, sure, I get it. So, I’ll ask again, what is this thing you guys have to do? And why is it that I’m always the last one to know about these sorts of things?” Conor asked.
“Because, in all honesty, Conor, this is a military operation and…” Grif looked a little uneasy about how to put this. “You’re not military.”
“Then why call me here in the first place?” Conor asked.
“Because,” Pensword started, “I do not want you to go rushing off and raising all kinds of Tartarus searching for us when we leave.” He took a breath. “Also, because you are our friend and friends of high levels in Equestria get to know things. IF--” Here he stared hard at the his friend. “--They can deflect what they know when asked by others. Meaning what you are to hear, you did not hear.”
Conor nodded gravely. Satisfied, Pensword turned to Grif. “Please, begin with the situation of what we found, and explain why we have to make this journey.”
“We found a rather… bad loophole in the original treaty between Equestria and Gryphonia,” Grif said.
“One that could spell a repeat of history.” Pensword spoke slowly, trying to keep his emotions in check. “That means that from here, we will be traveling with the Crystal Empire to Gryphonia’s Imperial city. There, we will work to close the loopholes before any Gryphons learn of them.”
“Sounds like a solid plan,” Conor said, nodding. “I take it you plan to be nothing more than an escort, at least on paper. And with Grif’s knowledge, you should be able to make it through no problem.”
“Well then, the plot thickens,” Grif said. “The prince of The Crystal Empire, Bellacosa, has decided he is to visit Gryphelheim on a goodwill mission to the emperor and he wants us to protect them.”
“So we’re here basically to discuss the details behind the adventure and what Shawn and I will do in the meantime while you’re gone?” Conor asked.
“We’ll be sitting on the sidelines here, in Equestria,” Shawn replied.
“And you can help me with my training, right, Shawn? I’ve been dying to get a hold of some bows and arrows,” Conor said.
Shawn gave a small grin as he reached into his coat and pulled out his flintlock pistol. “Remind me to make you one of these. Only three in existence so far, soon to be four.”
Conor smiled. “Will do. If there’s one thing I enjoy, it’s sharp shooting.”
“Good, you will need it,” Pensword responded with a laugh. “If for no other reason, because it will be something to do. There is no internet, so you’ll learn to fill the time up in other ways.”
“Which is why I smith things all the time,” Shawn added.
“Gives you a new appreciation for the dark age people, huh?” Grif laughed. Drawing a knife, he flicked it into the air, catching it by the handle as it came down with no real wariness for the razor sharp edges. “Back home, I’d never be coordinated enough to do this.”
“Well, I’ve been without internet for two years (barring emails home and facebook for proselyting), I suppose I can survive without it for a while longer.” Conor smirked.
“Try twenty years.” Grif laughed. “Or forty in his case,” he said, gesturing to Shawn.
“Yeah, we’re going to have to have a talk about that some time in the future. There’s a lot I still need to learn. Speaking of, who’s going to keep up my lessons while you’re gone, Pensword? Will it be Twilight?” Conor asked.
“Good, you used that grey matter.” Pensword responded happily. Then his tone of voice grew serious. “Now she is going to test you on the knowledge, but her main focus is going to be reading and speaking.”
“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you just deliberately insulted me,” Conor said, his cheerfulness dropping. If he’d still had his horse-like ears, they would have flattened.
Pensword paused and flicked an ear. “Right, not everyone is a Gryphon Slayer” he muttered, moving to flap his wings and looked Conor in the eye. He sighed as he laid a hoof on the human’s shoulder. “I spend a lot of time in the military. That was a ribbing, a good natured, honest joke. But I can understand that, at least I think I can.” He folded his forelegs as he hovered in the air. “Well, can you handle the ribbing I might give you by accident? Or a little on purpose?”
“It’s an unfortunate habit of war,” Grif added. “Small insults are more like compliments between old soldiers.”
“Well, as long as I know it’s a joke and not serious, I’ll be fine.” Conor immediately perked back up again.
“Softie,” Shrial muttered, smirking as she did so. “But then again, they’re cute when they’re soft.”
“Says the gryphoness who fell for a psychopath.” Grif chuckled.
“On another note, I won’t be returning to New Unity right away,” Shawn told the group.
“Explain,” Grif said.
“Due to recent events, I’ve been meaning to spend some time with Celestia and Luna.”
“This doesn’t have anything to do with what they did with me, does it?” Conor asked, concern written on his face.
“No,” Shawn replied. “Another reason entirely.”
“Is it a reason you would like to share with us?” Pensword asked as he looked at Grif. “Wait, this means we get New Unity to ourselves when we head back for resupplies.” A mischievous grin came over his muzzle, only be smacked off by Lunar Fang’s left wing. “It was nothing too dangerous. I only wanted to see where the Flag Plaza would be on the construction list.”
“Yeah, I’ll bet the flag plaza was the only thing on your mind.” She laughed.
“Well,” Pensword grinned. “The Gryphon Slayers need to do something while we are away. I was just thinking to see how they would like to help build it.” He raised both wings. “Honest!”
“When there’s so much work to do rebuilding the castle?” Conor asked with a cocked eyebrow.
“You want a bunch of soldiers to try and prop up a wall? The Plaza is really not attached to anything at the moment. It would keep them busy, out of the manes of others, and it hopefully would keep any risks for a brawl down.” He shot back with a good natured smile. “We could even move the plaza as well, if needed.”
“Whatever works,” Shawn shrugged.
“Just leave the remaining gryphons to their work. The compound still needs to be finished,” Grif said.
“Awww, you guys are no fun,” Conor said, pouting a little in a joking manner. He held it for all of a second before breaking into a smile and chuckling. “And here I was, hoping I’d get some help ribbing a friend back.”
“Honestly, I don’t rib Pensword about the flags. I was there when he claimed a few of them.”
“And I rarely use humor,” Shawn replied.
“... Good point.” Conor frowned. “That was pretty insensitive of me. Sorry, Pensword,” he said.
“You are new, and still learning,” Pensword responded. “That might actually be a good history lesson on why these flags are so important.”
“I’m going to need to see Zecora,” Grif said. “I need an extra edge to my throwing knives.”
“Going to ask her to enchant them for you?” Conor asked.
“Posion,” Grif said. “I need to be absolutely sure I won’t have any nasty surprises from a minorly wounded enemy.”
“I hope you’ll only poison one set, not all of them. I know in Gryphonia you fight to kill, but still, you can’t kill all of them,” Conor said.
Grif sighed. “Ah, to be young and naive again, huh?” Grif asked pensword.
Pensword chuckled softly and nodded his head. “May he never have it shattered in his face,” Pensword replied, his mouth twitching.
“Why do I get the feeling I’m going to be the butt of many a joke in the future?” Conor asked, rolling his eyes in resignation. “Can I at least visit Zecora with you? She’s one of my favorite Zebras.”
“Sure,” Grif said. “Just be ready, her wisdom can be a headtrip.”
Conor smiled knowingly. “I think I can handle it. I’m just wondering whether to go as a human, or as a pony.”
“Human,” Pensword answered without a beat or hesitation. A moment later Pensword shot back into the air. “Wait, what?”
Grif’s lower beak dropped as he stood there, dumbstruck.
“Conor looked on, confused. “What? You guys have your forms. I figured you’d know I had my own, too.” He shrugged.
“I figured Luna and Celestia just found some ward spell or something,” Grif said.
“Well, I just thought they purged you of whatever it was affecting you and, well, you got better.” Pensword said. For an instant, the old Matthew shone through, showing a small spark of the old optimism he’d had before the Third Gryphon War.
“I did mention he has an internal magical field,” Shawn said.
Conor sighed. “Alright, so pretty much, what happened is the thaumic field protected you guys from Equestria. It doesn’t like alien species. I was pulled in by Discord, and as such, didn’t have a thaumic field. Once Discord’s magic faded, Equestria’s magic started to change me into a pony. After the fight with Shawn, I got the field and the changes stopped in the middle. So, instead of a disguise spell, Luna and Celestia gave me one that would allow me to shift between forms like you do because I technically had a little of both forms as a part of me by that point.” Conor smiled slyly. “You wanna see my pony form?” he asked.
“Why not?” Pensword shrugged his wings. “It would be nice to see this.”
“Go ahead,” Grif said.
“Meh,” Shawn said, shrugging.
“I haven’t seen anyone change except for Grif. Sounds exciting,” Shrial said, propping her beak up on her hands as her tail twitched.
“Alright.” Conor reached up with an arm and grabbed the diamond. He took a deep breath then twisted as a bright flash of white light filled the room. As it dimmed, a pony form took shape. The clear shadow of a horn jutted as the light dimmed. There, standing where Conor had, a white unicorn stood with a long, styled blonde mane. His eyes were closed and he wore a white suit with a pair of four-pointed stars crossing one another, the one gold, the other silver. A blue bowtie was tied snugly around his muscular frame, which hugged at all the right curves of the suit. He peeked open a deep blue eye. “Well--”
He didn’t have time to get any further. Grif was on the unicorn in a second, lifting him up by the scruff of the neck. “Now, I admit, I’ve never thought a lot of you, Blueblood, but this is a new level of sick. Where is Conor?” He spat through his teeth with every word.
Pensword flexed his wings, trying to think, only to sit down on his rear and start laughing his head off. Lunar Fang looked at her Life Mate with a worried look. Had he finally lost his head?
“What did you just call me?” The unicorn’s horn suddenly flared blue as he narrowed his eyes. The gryphon soon found his hand forcibly released before he slammed into a wall. The unicorn’s eyes widened after he turned and his horn flickered out as he brought his hooves to his muzzle in shock. Shrial was out of her chair in an instant and leapt for the unicorn with a piercing shriek.
Pensword’s laughter instantly died as he saw the murder in the gryphoness’ eyes. He took a deep breath and bellowed as loudly as he could. “STAND DOWN! THIS IS CONOR! STAND DOWN NOW!” Shrial was blown back, her talons screeching against the stone as she touched down. She crouched, preparing for another leap.
“Taze, help!” the unicorn shouted, recoiling as Shrial leaped once again. This time, a blue bubble formed around him as the gryphoness collided, going at it with her sword before it burst under her assault.
Pensword leaped into action, flying to where the pony lay. He then turned and stood between the Unicorn and the others, his eyes menacing.
“Shrial.” Grif coughed as he stood up. In a moment, he was between her and the two ponies. “It’s okay!” he said, clinging to her and pinning her arms in a bear hug. “It’s alright. I’m fine.” When Shrial had calmed down enough, she wept on his shoulders. Grif looked to the unicorn he now knew as Conor. “Sorry, Omni.”
Conor frowned. “No, I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. It just sort of happened before I could do anything about it. Are you alright? Why did you call me Blueblood?”
“You don’t know?” Grif asked. “You didn’t take a look at yourself like this?”
“There wasn’t a mirror at Luna’s forge, and Celestia asked me not to change until we were all alone together. Luna agreed and ... wait a second.” Conor face-hoofed. “Now it makes sense.” He rolled his eyes. “Could somebody please get me a mirror?”
“Well, first of all, it would be Somepony in this form. Secondly--” he moved to what appeared to be a bathroom doorway and opened it. On the back of the door, visible to all, was a large mirror, the same dimensions as the frame. “Why do you think I picked this room? It is perfect for my needs.”
Conor stared at the mirror. “Oh heck no,” he said, gawking at the sight. “I’m a freaking shadow clone!” He furrowed his brows in thought. “… On second thought, Shawn, let’s visit Celestia together. I’m going to get an apology. Just wait till I get my hooves on them,” he said ominously.
“Oh no, this is going to be an ace in the hole. With you, my friend, we shall get to learn just what the Baron has planned.” Pensword’s ears perked up as he realized what his friend had just said and he smiled. “Oh, Good, you used ‘hooves.’”
“Yeah, I can’t believe I’m saying this, but … Rarity’s giving you a makeover,” Grif said.
“Got to clarify that with her,” Shawn said. “Considering how she feels about Blueblood.”
“Yeah, I’d rather not get banged up a second time,” Conor said, tenderly rubbing his neck. “And uh, Pensword, I’m sorry, but I’m no spy. You know how I feel about lying,” he said.
Pensword’s left eye twitched. “Conor, this is not some goody-four-shoes fiction. We are in the upper echelons of power. We will have to have spies, and Blueblood is, at the moment, a problem that I do not want flaming up.”
“Pensword, my voice is totally different from Blueblood’s. Speaking of which, Taze, why didn’t you realize that when I changed?” Conor asked.
“Because a pony’s voice is easily altered. We have magic, or even potions that will change your voice to match others. Magic is a tool that espionage is great at using.”
Conor turned resolutely. “I’m sorry, Pensword, but I’m not going to do that. I won’t be a spy, at least not by impersonating … somepony else. It’s not right.”
Pensword’s eye twitched again before he snorted and pawed the ground a little. “Fine, but we shall wait and see. I guess I could go to Me-Me.” He shook his head. “Just be careful around the nobility. And one more thing, if you get information just hoofed to you, do not reject it,” he pleaded.
Conor sighed. “Fine. That much, at least, I can do with a clean conscience.” He tapped a hoof under his chin. “I just realized, I haven’t picked a name yet. Gonna have to think on that.”
Lunar Fang giggled behind her wing. “Well, what’s your Cutie Mark?”
“I … actually don’t know,” Conor said. “Should I take off my clothes and find out?”
“Of course,” Lunar Fang stated matter of factly.
Conor blushed. “Um … I’ll be right back.” He zipped into the bathroom and slammed the door shut behind him with a loud slam, its frame surrounded by a blue aura.
Pensword looked to Lunar Fang and the others. “Uh, did we ever get like that?” He asked, cocking his head.
“Dark magic modified our behavior before we got the chance,” Grif reminded him.
“Oh,” Pensword answered before smirking. “Well, Sombra really dropped the ball with us it seems.” Pensword giggled, his ears perking a little. Lunar Fang just giggled behind her wing.
Several crashes and angry exclamations later, Conor peeked nervously out the door. “This is incredibly awkward,” he said.
“You’ll get used to it,” Shawn replied.
“... You promise not to laugh?” he asked.
“I promise to attempt to mask any laughter. Can’t guarantee on the success rate though,” Grif said.
Pensword looked down at his own form, which was just fur and feathers. “Well, I would be hypocritical if I laughed at the moment.”
Taking a deep breath, the pony pushed the door open the rest of the way and slowly clopped his way out. On closer inspection, he was actually a little larger than Blueblood, and, were other ladies present, possibly more handsome as he stood blushing before the gathering of friends. Turning his neck to his side, he jumped, then chuckled. “Sorry, not used to being able to move around like this. Ponies are surprisingly flexible, aren’t they?” He asked as he turned to show his new mark to the others. An archaic sun shone brightly, a mixture of yellow and orange with little triangles jutting out at even intervals. Stamped over the sun, A silvery four-pointed star glimmered, accenting the rest of the mark as its points reached out to accent the other triangles, forming a total of sixteen points jutting out at even intervals.
“So, what do you think?” he asked.
“Well, that is interesting. We have another Solar Cutie Mark,” Pensword replied with a laugh as he leaned forward to get a closer look. “I am trying to come up with a good name.” He frowned. “Still haven’t found out how naming works.”
“If only there were a pony whose special talent was picking names to fit a person,” Conor said, sighing.
“Well, the problem here is that those that do name ponies, it’s usually the parent and, I have heard that sometimes the pony will keep writing the name out till they reach the right one.”
“Well why don’t we just ask someone?” Grif said.
“Got anyone in mind?” Conor asked.
“Well, we could talk to Celestia and Luna,” Pensword started. “Then if that pans out, you said you were going to go with us to meet Zecora, so that is another pony we could ask.” He said, rubbing a hoof under his chin. “Well,” he looked at a clock. “I am sorry, but I have to attend a small gathering of the Lunar Court soon, so I have to drop out of this meeting.”
“I … think I’ll go get dressed now.” Conor rushed into the bathroom again, tripping over his hooves as he did so. He went flying through the door as it slammed shut behind him. “... Oww,” his voice echoed from within.
Hammer Strike found himself walking towards Luna’s room. One thing that he had finished recently needed to be brought to her attention. After a few turns he found her door with two lunar guards posted outside.
“Is Luna in there?” he questioned as he approached.
The guards nodded, separating their lances as they allowed Hammer Strike to pass.
“Thanks,” he replied as he knocked on her door.
“Yes? Who is striking so vigorously at my door?” Luna asked, rushing to open it. As the door creaked open, she immediately recognized the pony. “Oh, it’s you. Please, come in.”
“Thank you,” Hammer replied as he entered. The room was mostly dark. Immediately to his left, he noticed a large, crescent scaped bed complete with a star studded curtain. A dim night light glowed as it hung from the “moon’s” tip. The floor echoed as his hooves clopped along it, made from black marble with lighter shaded swirls. A multitude of candelabras stood in place, burning their wicks to give the gentle ambience of moonlight and evening. Dark, low-toned colors decorated the walls, while thick, heavy red curtains hung down over the windows, blocking out the light. Tiny moonstones cut in the shape of gems were mounted above the arches of the windows and doors.
Clearly, the entire room was meant to be as much a replica of the night sky as possible. Four dark blue slippers with silver crescents waited for their owner on a carpet themed after a cloud. A nightstand with a moon themed alarm clock and a stack of books lay beside the bed: most likely reading material for Luna to catch up after her thousand year absence while she waited for sleep to come. The ceiling was dotted with tiny rubies, sapphires, emeralds, diamonds, and many more, which glinted in the dim light like stars. A massive waxing crescent moon carved itself overhead on the ceiling to bask in the glow of the “stars” that twinkled around it. Four new diamonds, far larger than the other stars, had been mounted in place above, below, to the right, and left of the moon.
After taking everything in, Hammer Strike faced Luna. “So, on to business. I finished something that you might be glad to have.”
“Oh?” luna asked.
“Going to need you to teleport us to the New Unity armory.”
“You have a picture in your head?” she asked him.
Hammer Strike hummed in approval.
Luna concentrated as her magic fired around her horn. Leaning down, she gently placed the tip of said horn against Hammer Strike’s forehead. The two vanished in a silver flash.
With a pop, the pair appeared inside the armory Hammer Strike had pictured. The walls were lined with weapon racks, each containing different styles of weaponry ranging from swords to polearms.
“So, a long time ago, or not that long ago, I honestly don’t even remember how long ago, you asked me to do something for you,” Hammer Strike started. “I’ve been working most of the time on this task. Do you remember what it was that you asked for?”
“The armor?” Luna asked. “It’s ready?”
“Follow me into the back room,” he said as he gestured to one of the doors before he opened it, letting her pass before him. After a brief moment, he lit a set of candles, revealing row after row of armor made from his designs. “I spent a while doing this, considering no one else could mimic the design for several parts that were needed for some of them.”
Each set had a helmet specially crafted to cover more of the face. The primary piece was the guard for the ears, each one following a pattern to ensure the one wearing the armor had no restrictions to movement while still having protection. The chestplate stretched out further than the normal standard set, covering more of the barrel while the hoof guard stretched up, covering more of the leg. Where metal could not reach, chainmail covered the gaps between. Each flank on the armor had the mark of the lunar guard on each side, as well as a crescent moon engraving on the breastplate.
“It’s incredible,” Luna said. “And you were able to make as many as I needed?” she asked.
“You told me a set of two hundred, so I made two hundred, though I also changed the design a little from back then. Nothing too major though. The weight of the armor isn’t that much more than the current design because of moving around wasted metal.”
“The nightguard will truly be an example garbed in these,” Luna said.
“They better be,” he replied. “At least your guard is going to actually be defended, rather than wearing shiny gear that can hardly protect them.”
“Perhaps Celestia will take from my example and get real armor for her guard….And actual combat training,” she added with a snicker.
“If she does, I hope it’s made by someone smart enough to make a decent set. Either that, or I’m going to be busy for another several months,” he said, sighing afterwards.
“Is there anything you need in repayment?” she asked.
“My usual payment, which is, just make sure they use it right,” he replied.
“I will make arrangements to have them shipped to Ys immediately.”
“So, back to Canterlot then?” Hammer Strike asked.
She nodded and they vanished in a blast of silvery light.
“Hey, Joe,” Grif said as he, Conor and Shrial walked into the donut shop. “How’s business been lately?”
“Can’t complain.” He shrugged. “Princess Twilight’s coronation brought in a lot of business. The way things are going, I may have to think about opening a few branches.” He smiled knowingly at Grif. “The usual, I take it?”
“Better make that a triple order.” Grif smirked as he put a wing around shrial. “And whatever Conor here wants is on me as well.”
The human blushed and Pony Joe chuckled. “What’sa matter, kid? I ain’t gonna bite ya.”
“Sorry. I’m uh … just not used to being treated so much,” Conor said. “Got any recommendations?”
“Well, we have trottown cream, chocolate, glazed, crumb, and just about anything else you can name,” Joe said.
“I’ll try a trottown cream, a glazed, a crumb, a bear claw, and a pershing, please. And could I try some of your hot cocoa with marshmallows, too?”
“No problem, kid. Three usuals and five donuts coming right up.” He moved behind the desk, throwing several crullers, half a dozen sour cream, and three fudge busters on a dish before pouring two large cups of coffee. He then put Conor’s order next to it. Picking up the tray in his magic, he levitated it to Grif’s usual table just as they arrived. He left the carafe on the table with the tray before heading back behind the counter.
“Thanks, Joe,” Grif said waving as he took a sour cream and bit down. “The only place in Equestria that reminds me of Canada.” He laughed.
“Oh, and um … Shrial, Grif, about what happened back in the conference room. I really am sorry,” Conor said, his head bowed low. “I didn’t even know what I was doing. It just sort of happened.”
“No, it’s my fault,” Grif said. “I reacted without thinking.”
“I’m just sorry I lost my head,” Shrial said. “A warrior should never allow something like that to happen. I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
“No, Grif got to you before that could happen. Speaking of which, how the heck did you move that fast anyways?” Conor asked as he turned his head to face Grif.
“You remember when Hammer Strike and Shrial went into that tomb in the story?” Grif asked as he drew one of his swords.
“Yeah, though you didn’t mention much about it,” Conor replied as he took a bite into the glazed donut first. His eyes immediately widened. “This is better than Krispy Kremes,” he exclaimed.
“That would be because I was in a coma,” Grif said. “I wasn’t there, but that's neither here nor there.” He shrugged as he laid the sword in front of the human. “These blades were some of the treasures found there. They’re over two thousand years old and were wielded by a gryphon named Grask Grimclaw. He was a gryphon born in what is now Western Equestria, but was formerly one of the gryphon kingdoms, during a time known as the tyranny of dragons.”
“Alright, so what’s his story and what’s it have to do with your speed?” Conor asked as he finished off the first donut, washing it down with the hot chocolate.
“I guess I should explain something. Did you get a chance to read anything on gryphon religion?” he asked.
“Not really, no. Pensword was too busy teaching me about Equestrian culture and language. We haven’t been able to branch out yet,” Conor replied.
“Gryphon history teaches that, while our race was created by Faust and blessed by Sleipnir with our uncanny ability for war, we were soon abandoned for another race. The legends are, at least to my suspicions, purposefully vague on why. Either we were too brutal or too caught up in our own greatness, as said gryphons were alone,” Grif explained. “And then they came. First the north, then the south, then the west, then the east, and the mixture of all these directions likewise: great beings with power to rival Faust’s own. They gave life to the air and commanded it to move. They herded gryphonkind beneath their wings and blessed us with a hope after death and longevity to rival that of the dragons themselves. Now, I could go on, but I’m going to summarize by saying they were stolen from us and sealed away beyond our reach. You following me?”
“I got it, yeah,” Conor said as he began on the pershing next, savoring its cinnamon glaze.
“Grask Grimclaw was the first gryphon to use magic: specifically wind magic. Not breezes like the pegasi create. That’s simple weather manipulation. I’m talking about legitimate control over the wind itself. He found the four great ones, learned their secrets, and became what gryphons label ‘the avatar of winds.’” Grif smiled as he held up the blades “These were his swords. I bear them just as I bear that title.”
“So you’re basically saying the Pegasi have nothing on you?” Conor asked, smirking as he cocked an eyebrow.
“Well, they don’t, but that's for other reasons.” Grif laughed. “On our honeymoon, Shrial and I encountered the first of the four great ones: The Lady of the South Winds, the bird of paradise herself. She taught me a few things: cantrips mostly, small tricks that require only little bits of concentration. Creating wind tunnels was one of them,” he explained as he took a sip of coffee. “Imagine being inside a tube with gale force winds that make hurricane katrina look like a brisk spring breeze. Normally, it would be fatal to anyone else, but as I grow in knowledge, I may be able to start taking people with me and going farther, even faster.”
“So you created a wind tunnel for all of a second to get yourself to us in time.” Conor furrowed his brows. “That’s a heck of a lot of power.”
“It’s not something I can do for repeated times without causing my body incredible amounts of pain,” Grif said. “The fight with Shawn was torture.”
“And you kept doing it?” Conor gawked. “I mean, I guess you had no choice, but still.” He frowned. “I wish there could’ve been another way. I don’t like when my friends are in pain.”
“Well, be glad that’s the only fight you saw us in.” Grif lifted a wing, revealing a faint scar under the fur beneath. “Trust me, an entire sword blade to the torso is not pleasant.”
Conor shuddered. “I can guess. I actually had a dream like that once. It was a knife instead of a sword, but I’m guessing it’s kindof the same principle. Sort of cold, flat, and you can feel it wriggling around as it slides through, right?”
“Yes, but it also burns like fire,” Grif said. “I’m still surprised I didn’t die myself. How resilient are we? How resilient am I? Questions for later.” Grif shook his head.
“I’d say you’re pretty resilient,” Shrial said, smirking as she caressed Grif’s beak with a talon. “After all, on our honeymoon, we made it through a typhoon without so much as breaking a sweat. You remember, don’t you, dear?”
Conor blushed furiously.
“Honey, if we were in front of practically anyone else, I wouldn’t care, but perhaps we should scale it down a bit?” Grif asked, rubbing her back gently.
Shrial looked at the human. His body language was painfully obvious. “He’s led a very sheltered life, hasn’t he?” She asked.
“You have no idea,” Conor said.
Shrial sighed. “Alright, alright. I’ll spare your virgin ears.” She immediately stuffed a chocolate donut into her mouth, chewing violently as she closed her eyes, savoring the flavor of chocolate. Even in Equestria, it would seem women have a love of chocolate. Conor and Grif took advantage of the moment to share a knowing look.
“... I’m scared,” Conor mouthed.
“... Me, too,” Grif mouthed back.
“Rarity?” Hammer Strike asked as he knocked against the door.
“Yes?” she questioned through the door, her voice giving away that she was concentrating on something inside.
“Mind if I come in to talk, rather than through a door?”
“Of course,” she said. He heard something thump and the unicorn cursed under her breath.
Hammer Strike opened the door to see a candle cut in half, the top part on the floor in front of Rarity. The melted wax scattered out from the point of impact. In Rarity’s magic, her rapier stood at the ready, flashing in the sun. “Attempting something I take it?” he asked.
“Grif’s been emphasizing on control of the blade,” Rarity said. “He once was able to cut the wick off the candle without snuffing the flame.” She looked at him, her gaze one of determination. “I don’t see how he managed to control the tip of the blade so easily.”
“Years of practice,” Hammer replied. “It takes a lot of time and training for fine control.”
“I can fold gold and steel into cloth and meld diamonds into fabric. I should at least be able to do this with my magic.”
“You’ll eventually do it,” he repeated. “Just be patient.”
“... Yes, all things in time, I suppose.” Rarity sighed. Retrieving a cloth and a jar of polish, she began to work on the blade. “So how may I be of service, Lord Hammer Strike?” she asked.
Hammer Strike gave her a look. “I was wondering if you will be returning to Ponyville with your friends.”
“I suppose I’ll have to be returning to Ponyville eventually,” She paused and looked up. “Why do you ask?”
“I was wondering because I’ll be here for another week or so. I was just wanting to know if you’d like to go out to dinner? Perhaps a night around the town?”
Rarity sat rigidly in her chair, stiff as a board. “I uh, well, that is … you see.” She blushed heavily. “I believe I should have enough time,” she said. “After all, it has been a while since our last outing.” Her rapier had cut through her cloth as she looked down on the tattered pieces. “Oh, pony feathers,” she muttered under her breath. With a glow of the horn, she had needle and thread already at work as she started to sew it back up again.
Hammer Strike sat there with a small grin, waiting patiently for her answer.
“I … I would be honored,” she finally said.
“Perhaps tomorrow, if that sounds fine to you?”
“Tomorrow would be divine, darling,” Rarity responded, blushing.
“Wonderful, I’ll stop by around four.” He gave one of the rarest gifts he could ever bestow: a smile. “Until then, I’ll leave you to your practice.” With that said, he turned to the door, exiting her room.
To Rarity’s credit, she held her composure for a whole seven deep breaths before letting out a squeal that made several thestrals in the area hold their ears in pain before she grasped her couch and swooned.
Hammer Strike couldn’t help but chuckle as he continued walking towards his room.
Pensword looked up from his desk as his ears folded. “That is definitely not a steam whistle,” He muttered. With teeth on edge, he turned back to his paperwork. He frowned to himself, wondering if he would get to see Luna’s bill in the coming days or not. He sighed as he looked to the clock. Queen Cadence should have arrived five minute ago to hand over Bellacoso, and word around the well was Luna wanted to see him too. Three loud knocks on his door heralded the arrival of guests. A thestral guard opened the door and cleared his throat.
“Announcing her Royal Highness, Queen Miamore Cadenza--”
“Please, just Cadence is fine. After all, we’re all family here, aren’t we Pensword?” Queen Cadence asked as she walked in. Cosy trailed behind her legs before dashing for the desk and leaping into the air.
“Pensword!” he cried happily as his momentum took its course.
Pensword took to the air and landed in Cosy’s path as the two hugged. “How is my little guardian?” He looked behind him and let out a shaky breath. A large window stood open behind him, its wind blowing through his mane as he put the young colt down.
“I’m doing great!” Cosy giggled, his silver mane sparkling behind him as his crystal coat shone in the sun.
“That is great news.” Pensword looked at both royals. “How goes the preparations for the journey?”
“We got my armor all ready to go. And I’ve been practicing with the sword, too.”
Cadence winced at the mention of the weapon.
“Yes, he’s been practicing quite a bit. As for the other preparations, Cosey has all his things packed, and we ordered the ten guards as requested. The magic of the crystal heart should wear off after a few days, but if they still have their coats, they know to keep their cloaks on. And I’ve given my little brother strict instructions to stay with his guards,” she said meaningfully. Cosy rolled his eyes.
“I know, I know,” he said. “You told me a hundred times already.”
“Easy, Cosy,” Pensword said,holding a wing. “She only cares for you. I do not blame her. She almost lost you in the past. So, please, listen to your sister. Or I might have to add my voice to her instructions as well.”
Cosy frowned. “Alright.”
“Good.” Pensword responded with a firm nod of his head before he hugged Cosy again. “And how has getting used to modern Equestria been going?”
“It’s great! We’ve been getting a lot of ponies coming to the empire and I got lots of friends to play with in the palace.” Cosy beamed. “Nopony even cares that I’m old.”
Pensword paused and smirked a little. “Do you feel old? Because you don’t look a day over eight.” He looked at his own hoof. “You look better than I do, I think.”
Cosey giggled. “I mean ‘cause I was in stone for so long.”
Pensword frowned as he recalled the final battle back in the Crystal Empire. “That was a war I am grateful that went the right direction.”
“Let’s try to focus on better times, Pensword,” Cadence said, smiling warmly on him.
“Agreed. And how are you and Shining Armor settling in as rulers of the Crystal Empire?” Pensword asked
“Everyone loves us. Shining’s been helping our soldiers adjust to modern tactics and fighting techniques. And as for me, well, you know how busy life can be as a leader.”
“I know,” Pensword responded as he moved back to his desk. “That was back when I was a Commander. Now I am a High Duke! I thought I had enough paperwork as a Commander back then. No wonder Nobles had parchment plant gardens on their lands. They needed it just for getting things done.”
Cadence chuckled. “You’ll get used to it.”
He smiled and looked to Cosy and back to the work. “I sure hope so.” He chuckled a little. “Well, Cosy you get to meet someone new soon. I am a father now.”
Cosy’s eyes widened. “Really? Is it a boy or a girl? What’s the baby like? Is it like you?” The questions continued to spurt one after the other until Pensword gently placed a quieting hoof over the young foal’s mouth.
“Okay, first, it is a girl, and her name is Moon River. She is currently a very curious foal who is learning to fly, and constantly getting into things. As for like me? Well, her curiosity is a little like I was when I was younger, but it is still too soon to tell.”
“Can I meet her?” Cosy asked. “She sounds like fun.”
“Well, of course you can, maybe not tonight, as you need your sleep, but tomorrow is okay, and you get a whole train ride to have her get used to you,” Pensword answered.
“Awwww, I don’t wanna go to bed yet,” Cosy said. Cadence chuckled.
“Even a crown prince needs his nap time. How else are you going to keep up with the others when you’re on your way to Gryphonia?” she asked.
Pensword chuckled and looked to Cosy. “I envy you,” he started, earning a confused look from Cosy. “You get to go to bed early. I still have at least two hours of work here to go.”
“Yuck!” Cosy said, pointing his hoof down his throat. “I guess bedtime isn’t so bad compared to that.” He yawned. “And I am kinda tired. Just a little.”
“Then let’s get you tucked into bed. We can say goodnight and then goodbye in the morning. I’m sure Pensword will have plenty of time to play with you then,” Cadence said.
“Okay,” Cosy yawned. “Night, Pensword.” And with that, Cadence took the foal under her hoof as the pair made their way out of the office.
“Until tomorrow, Pensword. You have my thanks.” Cadence nodded her head as they made to leave, crystal guards in tow.
“Of course, Katy,” Pensword responded before his frame locked up. “I, sorry, I shouldn’t be calling you that. Good night, your majesty.”
Cadence stopped in the doorway, her guards waiting on either side for her to pass. “Pensword, you can call me Katy any time.” Then she left, her guards in tow.
Shawn slowly led Conor through the more private halls of Canterlot Castle. Their custom made boots clopped along the cold stone floor as Conor eyed the various artifacts and tapestries on display. “Wow, even the less used halls are decorated. Where does Celestia get all this stuff?” Conor asked.
“From all around. Helps that she’s been able to collect them through countless years,” Shawn replied, shrugging.
“Good point. So how much farther do we have to go till we get to the dining hall?” Conor asked as his stomach rumbled in complaint. He chuckled nervously. “Sorry, after getting back to this my body’s been eating up calories a lot faster than normal. You think the thaumic field might have something to do with it?”
“Might be just your metabolism considering what you’ve been having combined with the whole working out deal.”
“I guess. Heh, now I see why my friends said having a fast metabolism is such a double edged sword.”
“Highly accurate in most cases,” Shawn said as he turned down another hall, this one ending in a door. “And, we’re here.”
Conor took a good whiff of the air. “Mmm, I smell sausage. And bacon. And … oohoho, fresh bread. This is gonna be good.” He grabbed the door handle and pulled it open. “After you, sir,” he said with a playful bow.
“I’ll accept this one as a joke, but don’t make a habit of it.”
“What? I do this with my friends all the time.” Conor chuckled.
“And I hear that all the time because of being a Lord,” Shawn replied as he entered the dining hall.
“Fine, fine, I’ll try not to do it anymore. But I make no promises,” Conor said as the pair entered into the great dining hall. Shawn recognized it only too well from their first stay as the faint memories of their arrival played over in his mind.
Princess Celestia sat contentedly as she levitated a forked piece of pancake into her mouth. As the two humans entered, she immediately perked up with a warm smile. “Ah, Shawn. Welcome, welcome. Come join us,” She chuckled as one of her waitstaff entered the room. “Would you like anything to drink? The Coffee is still brewing.” She turned to look at her sister.
“Aha! Welcome, teacher, and friend Conor. Come and enjoy this bountiful feast!” Luna called as she held a large wooden tankard in the air with her magic. Her plate was loaded down with eggs, waffles, ham, sausage, bacon, crepes, and toast. “I still cannot believe it took so long for me to discover this bacon. Tell me, do all omnivores know of this divine food?” she asked.
“Yes, back home it’s pretty common. If you’d like, one of these days, we can show you a few dishes you can make with it. One of my favorites is the breakfast burrito,” Conor said.
“Breakfast Burrito?” Celestia asked in confusion. “What is a Burrito?” Then she smiled as the scent of roasted beans came to her nostrils. “Good, the Coffee’s coming.” She waved a wing to the seating. “I’ll ask again. What would you like to drink? Coffee? Orange Juice? Milk? Or maybe something else?”
“I think I’ll just stick to water, thank you,” Conor said, smiling as he took his seat. Luna immediately started passing platters of eggs, waffles, and bacon to the human with her magic. “Thank you, Luna.” He smiled.
“I’ll go with orange juice. Haven’t had that in a while,” Shawn replied before pausing. “If at all,” he finished, pulling a chair out for himself.
Celestia smiled as the wait staff left to get the drinks ordered. “So, did I hear correctly? You wish to spend a week here in Canterlot?”
“Yes. Primarily to spend some time with you both,” Shawn replied, looking up to Celestia and Luna.
“You would be able to see my forge.” Luna smiled.
“Anything you both want me to do or show me is available,” he replied, giving a small grin.
“Well,” Celestia responded with a smile. “I wouldn’t mind if you help with the smooth introduction of both courts.” Still smiling into her coffee cup, she continued to speak. “It would be nice to keep them in line.”
“There is one thing that’s bugging me though, girls. I’d like to know why you didn’t tell me I looked like a certain spoiled pony when I changed.”
Luna giggled like a filly behind her hooves.
Celestia found the contents of her coffee suddenly riveting, yet she could not hide that smug smirk at the edge of her muzzle.
“... Really? Seriously? You two did it as a prank?” Conor said, his voice rising to a booming crescendo. “Do you have any idea how close I came to getting killed because of that?” Celestia spat out her coffee, coughing while Luna’s laughter stopped cold in its tracks. “Grif had me by the throat because he thought I’d been kidnapped, and when I got upset with him, my magic shoved him against the wall. Shrial was there, Celestia, and I think you can guess what happened next.”
“Surely they were smart enough to know Blueblood could never have performed that level of disguise magic.” Celestia’s eyes widened in shock. She shuffled her feathers and looked to her Sister. “It is rare that my sister and I get to be in on the same prank.”
“Yeah? Well next time, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t make it so life threatening.” Conor glowered at the pair. “I appreciate a good joke as much as the next guy, but this one went too far.
“We meant you no harm,” Luna offered. “It was all in jest. We had forgotten how recent the ancient past is for Grif.”
“I’m just glad Grif got things back under control as quickly as he did.” Conor shuddered as he tentatively chewed on a piece of bacon.
Shawn hummed in agreement.
“So,” Celestia started in hopes of changing the topic. “What do you plan on doing now, Conor? Seeing as you’ll be spending some time here in Equestria, I assume you must have some plans.”
“I’m going to go back to Ponyville with Grif. I have to see about getting a name for my new form and we’re coming up empty. I wanted to see if maybe somepony else might have a good idea. And if that doesn’t work, I’ll ask Zecora. I’ve been meaning to get to know that zebra for a while anyways.”
“Yes, speaking of which, sister, when did you let Zebras fall into obscurity?” Luna asked.
“They haven’t. It’s just that Zebras aren’t that well known in the rural areas. I’ve been trying to improve the knowledge and root out superstition. It just takes time.”
“And what have you been doing?” Conor asked. “I’m curious.”
“Doing my best to stamp out the rumor that all Zebras are dark shamans who’ll curse you if you look at them the wrong way.” She sighed. “Fifty years. That is how quickly Zebras disappeared from our society. And with their disappearance, just as it was with the Thestrals, prejudices and rumors grew.”
“But how are you stamping them out?” Conor asked.
Celestia smiled. “By putting books, literature, and hoping to have a few speaking tours in the future. Knowledge and information are the best ways.”
“You do realize how few ponies actually listen to that kind of stuff, right?” Conor asked. “Even Twilight almost fell to it after the whole poison joke incident. If you’re going to disprove these myths, you’re going to have to do better. Maybe start up a Foreign exchange program or something. Then both cultures can see what the other is like and learn from them.”
“That starts at the end of the year.” Celestia responded. “We have a few explorers who have signed up.”
“Good.” Conor nodded. “I hope they’ll benefit from the experience.” With that, he dug further into his breakfast, nearly matching Luna in her pace as a competitive glint shone in her eye.
Conor let out a groan of contentment as he stood on Canterlot’s main platform. The Mane Six and a few of the others looked on in concern.
Pensword looked over to Conor with a raised eyebrow. “Did you have a good breakfast?” He asked, chuckling. “I am guessing you got your first meal with High Chieftess Luna?”
“Eeeeeyup,” Conor said, smiling contentedly. “I don’t know where she found all that room. First we were eating, next thing I know, she’s challenging me to a contest.”
“Had fun?” Grif asked, beaming.
“I haven’t eaten like that since I served in a Samoan ward.” Conor chuckled. “I’m just glad I learned how to listen to my stomach. Otherwise, I’d be a sick mess about now.”
Pensword took on an amused look. “I so want to take you to a Thestral gathering now,” he said as he chuckled.
“You know, I think I’d like that. It’d be nice to meet your extended family,” Conor said, smiling.
“Extended family? It is an entire Clan.” Pensword spoke fondly. “Still, it is strange having clan members sharing my name.”
“Your clan is your family, Pensword,” Conor said. “That’s what I meant.”
“Well, for us, we call it a Clan.” Pensword responded with a poke of his wing and Conor realized he was being ribbed. “Still,” he paused and took on a goofy grin as his left ear twitched. He turned and saw the expression on the human’s face. His own muzzle fell a little. “Come on, Conor, I am ribbing you. You are going to be too much of a rich target for the Slayers.”
“... I can’t help it,” Conor said. “I can’t tell that kind of stuff. If it’s obvious, I’m good. Otherwise, it just goes right over my head. Well, most of the time anyways,” he amended.
“Hey! Wait for me!” A heavy clopping could be heard as the stones rumbled beneath the party’s feet. A massive black furred minotaur with a ropey red mane was charging full speed.
“Um … is that--?” Conor started.
“Big guns, the Bladefather Clan’s resident minotaur.” Grif smirked. “There is going to be a lot of mythology for you to encounter here.”
Pensword snarked as he held a hoof over his muzzle, exchanging a brief knowing looking between Grif and himself.
“Woah,” Conor said as Big Guns bounded onto the platform bearing his trusty weapons with him.
“You almost left Big Guns behind,” he frowned. “How come nopony told me we were leaving?”
“You seemed to be enjoying talking to that cow,” Grif said. “I figured we’d leave your ticket at the station and you could return later.”
Big Guns blushed. “She was just helpin’ me learn the ropes. It’s hard when you don’t know your history.”
“Yes. History.” Grif laughed.
Big guns kept silent, though his mane grew brighter as his war hammer glowed the same color.
Pensword had tuned out the conversation and anxiously awaited the train’s arrival as they directed their ears down the tracks.
“It’s good to be going home again,” the now Princess Twilight said. “I really need to get back to my Daring Do novels.”
“And I can’t wait to get back in the clouds again. Gilda and I have a lot of catching up to do. Not to mention we have to remodel my house for her,” Rainbow said as she hugged the gryphoness.
“I’m sure Angel and the others missed me terribly,” Fluttershy agreed.
“And those apples ain’t gonna buck themselves,” Apple said.
“And I’ve got--” Pinkie suddenly cut herself off as she shoved a hoof in her mouth, looking meaningfully toward Shrial and Hammer Strike.
“I’ll meet you back in Ponyville later, girls. I have a few commissions I need to take care of for Fancy Pants while I’m here.”
“You’ll be there for the shower, won’t you, Rarity?” Shrial asked.
“Of course. Why, I wouldn’t miss it for the world. I have the most adorable line of baby clothes set up for the twins,” Rarity said. “Trust me, you’re going to positively adore them.”
Shrial smiled nervously. “Um, that’s … great, Rarity. I’ll um … see them when you get back.”
“You can count on it.” Rarity beamed as the train rolled into the station.
“Well, I suppose this is goodbye for now,” Kalima said as the train hissed to a stop. “We’ll be seeing you back at New Unity, Hammer Strike. Oh, and it’s good to see you back on your hooves again.” The elderly gryphoness smiled as she made her way into the train and settled onto one of the padded seats.
Hammer Strike gave a nod in response before actually saying something. “I’ll be back in New Unity in a week. Enjoy the journey back.”
“Just don’t do something stupid…. Again.” Grif sighed.
“You’re already asking for too much,” Hammer replied.
“Okay,then please do not do anything majorly stupid alone,” Pensword answered with a hoof to his forehead.
“I’m staying in Canterlot,” Hammer Strike replied. “Again, you’re asking for too much.”
“Guys, I think Hammer Strike can handle himself. Let’s just trust him, okay?” Conor asked.
In a moment of what can only be described as cartoon logic and reactions, everything and everyone stopped, even the puffing of the engine, as dead silence stilled the skies. Everypony, and even the birds in the trees, gave Conor a pointed look.
“What?” Conor asked
Pensword sighed. “We will tell you on the train trip.” Pensword groaned and everything went back to normal.
“Well, we’ve delayed this long enough,” Grif said as they began to load onto the train. “We have a long journey ahead of us.”
“All aboard!” The conductor yelled as the doors shut behind the passengers. All of passengers stuck their heads out the windows and waved at the platform as the engine huffed, puffed, then slowly made its way out from the station while its whistle blew into the sky.
Princess Celestia smiled as she walked up to Hammer Strike. “I see you’re getting a little restless.” She looked around and leaned in conspiratorially. “I want to beat my sister for once. Could I persuade you to join me for a practice session?”
“Sure,” Hammer replied.
Celestia smirked. “I suggest you leave your outfit behind. I doubt even your legendary jacket would survive. I’ll meet you at your quarters. Then I can take you to the Solar Field.”
Hammer Strike opened his mouth to reply, only to pause. Closing it again, he nodded. “I’ll ... drop these off, then.”
“I’ll see you in twenty minutes.”
It didn’t take long for Hammer Strike to return to his room, but he couldn’t help but keep his outfit on as he sat there, thinking to himself as time fled. After a long time, he removed his overcoat. Placing it neatly on a nearby chair, he rolled his shoulders, taking a deep breath before undoing the buttons on his vest, placing it alongside his coat. Soon after, the dress shirt followed. He didn’t look in the mirror. He already knew what awaited him.
A few seconds later a knock sounded at his door. Celestia walked into the room completely bare. Her crown and torc were gone. She froze in place as her eyes took in the full effects of the Third Gryphon War. “Who did this?” She asked, shocked.
“Celestia, it’s been a thousand years since this event happened,” Hammer said. “... I never did let you see the aftermath, did I?”
“No, no you didn’t. What did I do to lose your trust?” She paused to take a deep breath. Letting it out slowly.
“You did nothing to lose my trust. In fact, you might be one of the first to see the damage. Grif couldn’t see most of it due to my own blood coating me and the cuts,” he replied as he looked at his own foreleg.
Celestia stepped forward and embraced Hammer Strike into a wing hug. “As long you’re here, I’ll give you a wing to cry on.” She spoke with kindness. “Are you ready?” She asked softly after releasing the hug.
“I’m ready. Let’s go.”
Celestia smiled as she lowered her head and touched her horn to Hammer Strike’s head as the two teleported away from the room, leaving a heat mirage behind.
They reappeared in a bright, hot, and very sandy place as wind whipped sand particles in the two ponies’ faces before dying down. All around Hammer Strike could see nothing but sand. No dunes, no hills, no cacti or vegetation of any kind, just a flat area of sand. Occasionally he saw places that rippled like fleshly blown glass glinting in the sunlight. Celestia somberly spoke. “Welcome to the Solar Fields, a plane given as a gift in Northern Zebrica for my own purpose and use after I banished my sister .” She looked down. “Sixty feet below us is a layer of glass. Ten years into my sister’s banishment, I bathed myself in the middle of my own sun.” She looked to her teacher and father figure. “I am ashamed to say that I wished I did not live through it. That was a dark year for me.” She looked around. “I use it now and then still, just to cut loose.”
“We’re all ashamed of something we’ve done. It’s always good to have somewhere to vent, lest you do something hasty,” Hammer replied as his eyes trailed over the sand.
“Well,” she started, a small tone of playfulness creeping in. She pushed Hammer Strike forward with a wing. “Cut loose, see what you can do. Out here, you won’t have to worry about collateral damage.”
“I don’t want to let loose; I’d lose myself in the process.”
“Lose yourself?” Celestia tilted her head, “How so? You can’t hurt me, and besides, you clearly know your limits around others.”
“Mentally, I’d lose myself.”
“I lost myself here in this place. Trust me, Hammer Strike, you’re safe here.” She paused as a pensive expression overcame her. “Still, I won’t push you. You go as far and hard as you feel comfortable with.”
“I am curious how much heat I can generate ...”
Celestia spread a wing in the air about her. “That’s why I brought you here; so you can experiment. Besides, I want to test just how much heat you can withstand.”
“Should probably figure that out, yeah,” Hammer nodded. “What do you want to try first? How much I can handle or how much I can make?”
She smiled as she looked upon the sand where her teacher stood. “Let’s see how much you can make first. Then I can recharge you by seeing how much you can handle.”
Hammer Strike nodded and took a deep breath as blue fire burned over his chest. The heat steadily rose as the flames gradually spread, covering more and more of him as they expanded outward.
Celestia smiled as the heat washed over her form. She kept her eyes on Hammer Strike, unaffected by the glare and the brightness of the flames.
He focused more energy into the fire that surrounded him, pressing his gift further. He may not have remembered it well, but he knew he could do more. His fire began to level at a light shade of blue, writhing and jutting into the air above him as the heat rippled below. The sand turned a bright red.
Celestia scanned the magic and nodded indulgently as she felt the levels plateau. Her smile soon disappeared, however, as a sudden spike in output blew her mane back. Curtains of heat veiled the pony lord’s form, radiating from the sand as it slowly turned to slag.
Memories surfaced as Hammer Strike stared blankly forward. Anger soon followed as he pushed more into the fire, the hue gradually lightening, becoming brighter and brighter until the flames shone a pure white, condensing around him as he held the power.
Celestia’s eyes widened. Then she broke into a grin. “There’s the Hammer Strike I grew up with. Don’t go too long. Taper off and let’s see how the sand reacted.” Her voice was kind, exultant even, as she witnessed Hammer’s potential made manifest. The irony of the situation was not lost on her, considering how he had first taught her and now she was teaching him.
Hammer took another breath in, then exhaled violently as the fire guttered like a candle and died. The red-hot sand glowed beneath him as his hooves slowly sank into the molten mass.
“How do you feel?” Celestia asked..
He shrugged, stepping up the small incline in the hole he’d burned into the plane. Climbing back out, he shook his hooves, sending the molten glass back into the hole from whence it came just in time for it to skitter across the surface of the now concave glass bowl. “Interesting, I guess. Never needed to put that much energy into it before.”
“I can imagine. I remember that feeling when you first pushed me to increase my own solar magic.” She grinned as she stepped away. “I’ll see about transferring the glass you made for a window at New Unity.” She looked around before nodding her head. “Let me know when it gets too hot.” She spread her wings out, crouched down, and began to focus her own magic. Her horn glowed a bright yellow as it focused on the point. Then she let loose with her full solar magic, beginning at the level she’d spent at Cadence’s wedding.
Thirty minutes later, Hammer Strike was floating in a pool of the molten glass. He hummed pleasantly to himself, enjoying the warmth as it seeped into his joints. Finally, he sighed. “That’s enough,” he called out. “I can feel the heat at this point.”
Celestia slowly tapered her energy off. Soon enough the heat was simply emanating from the molten material. She hovered above the liquefied sand as the winds blew more of its unmelted counterpart into the miniature pool that she’d created. “Would you like me to teleport you out or do you want to try climbing by yourself?”
“I kinda want to keep sitting here. It’s not often you get to relax in the closest equivalent of a hot tub due to heat tolerance.”
She laughed and smiled, flapping her wings to send hot air drafts over Hammer Strike’s face as she flew out of the hole. “You have about an hour before I’ll have to pull you out. After that it’ll turn into glass.”
“Eh, it’s already cooled down too much.”
Princess Celestia frowned. “I’ll have to see what I can do to make a hot tub you can use.”
The large steam engine hissed to a halt as the royal cart shuddered, gleaming in the mid-day light. “Well, looks like we made it back home in one piece,” Conor said, smiling at his friends as he got up, stretching and groaning from his padded seat. “That was a nice nap, too.”
“Well, of course we made it in one piece,” Pensword muttered. “How you could fly in those tin tubes is beyond me.” He shivered a little. “A good airship or train,” He spread his wings to look at them. “Or these is all you should need.” He looked back at the train car as he stepped off onto the platform. “Ah, good old Ponyville.”
“Pensword, for us humans, an airplane is the only way we can fly. You know how many people love the skies once they get up there. I’d take an airplane any day of the week. At least until we figure out a way to make it so I can fly by my own power,” Conor said, winking mischievously as he followed the commander. “But I doubt that’s going to be happening any time soon.”
“Wait a minute,” Thalia stopped dead and turned to Pensword. “Humans fly in metal tubes?”
“Talk to the human. That is simply what I heard,” he admitted. A worried expression crossed his face briefly before it was gone. “Grif, I need to talk to you when we get back to New Unity.”
“Well, it’s more than just a tube. The tube is only the main body. It holds the pilot and passengers for the travel, along with seats for the humans to sit in and seat belts to secure them in place. It’s something similar to the harnesses or straps you use for your armor and saddlebags. There are two massive metal wings on either side, and large spinning fans with multiple blades called turbines. They spin at high speeds together beneath these wings to give thrust and power to the craft, pushing it forward until the craft is able to jump off the ground. For a few brief seconds, the craft then has to fly under its own power, but after passing a certain point, the plane flies by basically cutting through the air, and the air beneath it props it up as the turbines propel it forward. You can travel hundreds of thousands of miles in a matter of hours provided you have enough fuel for the journey.”
“Of course, humans tend to lack the anti-pressure protection supplied by our internal magic,” Grif told Thalia. “A plane gets a single crack in it and the entire passenger hold rapidly decompresses.” He made a popping sound.
Pensword shivered at the thought. “Hu…” he paused and stopped himself from talking as he looked at Grif and Conor with concern. He swiftly turned around and immediately marched forward. Lunar Fang barely managed to catch up with him, having to gallop.
“What happened?” Was all she asked as she nuzzled his cheek warmly.
“I--I forgot what an airplane is,” he whispered. “I am forgetting little parts of human technology that I see as reckless and insane. I forgot how they work and called them flying tin tubes.” He fluffed his wings nervously.. “I--even if I have both of me up here--” he said, touching his head with a wing tip, “--The longer I have stayed as a Thestral Pegasus, the more I see the world from our viewpoint. From an Equestrian viewpoint.”
“Ah, Ponyville, sweet Ponyville,” Grif said, currently unaware of his friend’s worrying. “Every time I visit Canterlot, I love this place more.”
“We’ll talk about this at home,” Lunar Fang whispered reassuringly in Pensword’s ear .
“Thank you,” he whispered back, giving her a kiss on the the side of her muzzle and a loving nuzzle to his daughter.
“So, Conor, Zecora’s hut is on our way to New Unity, so me and you will cut off the path as we’re moving, okay?”
“Sounds good to me,” Conor said, smiling. “It’s going to be hilarious finding out how the town will react to me.”
“Faust help us all,” Pensword muttered at hearing Conor’s statement. He looked to Lunar Fang and the two nodded as they took to the air now they were away from the train station.
Rainbow Dash looked at Conor, confused. “Uh, sorry to disappoint you, but three humans beat you to it already. Unless you meet the flower sisters.”
Conor chuckled knowingly. “I had a little help from Celestia and Luna at the coronation. So now I have a pony form I can shift to. Let’s just say it might set Rarity on edge if she ever saw me.”
“Why would it do something like that?” Gilda asked, folding her arms and rolling her eyes.
“It happened after you left, so you wouldn’t know about it. Just ask Rainbow about Prince Blueblood while you’re building your house. I can show you after.” Conor winked.
“You mean, um … you … look like him?” Fluttershy asked, though nopony could hear her thanks to her shyness.
“Um … I’ll just show you girls later on, okay?” Conor asked.
“Alright,” Applejack said. “Maybe next time y’all stop by Sweet Apple Acres, youl can show us.”
“Consider it done,” Conor said, smiling. “Besides, I want to be able to meet your big brother and Granny Smith, too. Oh, and by the way, Twilight, I forgot to ask. Do you think you can tutor me while Pensword’s gone? I need to keep my Equestrian up.”
Twilight smiled. “No problem. Just --”
Conor groaned. “Yes, Twilight, if you really want to, you can experiment with me, alright? But I set the limits, got it?” Twilight squealed in delight. “... I’m so going to regret this,” Conor said, shaking his head as he lay it against his fingers.
“Oh, you have no idea,” Pensword replied, laughing as he remembered his own time at Twilight’s. “Just be careful. We did a few all night study sessions.” He chuckled darkly. Conor shuddered.
“Awww don’t worry, and when you’re done, I can throw a congratulations on learning Equestrian party!” Pinkie Pie cheered, blowing a party favor in Conor’s face. “Besides, I already know what you look like. I just don’t wanna spoil the surprise for the others,” she said cheerfully.
“Pinkie.” Grif snapped his talons repeatedly to get her attention. “Would it be right for you to throw this party while me and pensword are away?” Grif asked her with a serious look.
“I do agree, I would rather not miss Conor’s first Pinkie Pie Party,” Pensword responded with a laugh. “I want to see his face.”
“Okie dokie lokie,” Pinkie said, saluting to the three.
“We’ll make our way back to the city and put Shrial back in the tower,” Kalima said.
“I told you I’m not tired,” Shrial protested.
“Not now, but you will be once you lay down. Trust me, daughter, I speak from experience,” Kalima said placatingly. “Besides, Grif wants to be able to see you safe and sound when he gets home. And the babies.”
Shrial grumbled. “Fine.” She muttered some choice oaths under her breath.
“Ah, so you’ve reached that stage.” Shrial glowered at the elder gryphoness.
“Big Guns has some things to sort out anyways, so he’ll go with you,” Big Guns said.
“Sounds like we got everything figured out then,” Conor said. “Shall we get going?”
“Let’s go,” Grif said.
The two friends stood outside the zebra’s hut, having just passed through the totems that had been set up. Conor shuddered briefly as they walked through before they approached the ancient-looking crooked tree with its giant tribal mask mounted above. He knocked heavily on the circular door as he peered through the holes the ancient roots made and the various pieces of pottery clinked together in the gentle breeze.
“You’re sure she’s okay with us just stopping by, right?” Conor asked.
“She knows I wouldn’t bother her if it wasn’t important,” Grif said.
The door slowly creaked open to reveal the golden gleam of the Zebra’s neck and leg rings as her jutting mane stood out in the shadows. “Yes?” she asked. “Who could it be? Is this a human with Grif I see?”
“Hi, I’m Conor. We didn’t really get the chance to meet each other properly last time I was here with the whole corruption incident,” Conor said, chuckling nervously. Zecora peered at the human, then at Grif.
“And why have you come to my humble home? Do you seek for advice, or were you out on a roam?”
“I need poison,” Grif said. “Something preferably more lethal to gryphons than ponies. You have any of those incredibly powerful remedies lying around?”
Zecora looked at Grif speculatively. “And what is the reason you have need of this poison?” she asked.
“Pensword and I are going to have to travel into Gryphelheim,” Grif told her. “Lives are in danger and, as I’m sure you’re aware, we’re not the most popular people there.”
“I do not deal in death and decay, but I might just have another way,” Zecora said. She crept back to a far shelf in her hut, the two friends following behind. Conor looked in awe at the spices and smells, as well as the variety of jars, ingredients, and other mystical objects the zebra kept in the space. Meanwhile, Zecora used her staff to balance a bright yellow vase with a thin neck and clay stopper, carefully lowering it before putting it on her table. “When a single drop to your blades is applied, the enemies cut will be paralyzed.”
“Thank you, Zecora.” Grif smiled, placing a small bag on the table. Conor realized he didn’t hear the clink of gold. “I found those dehydrated algae from the dried east in Canterlot. I hope that it’s an even trade?” Grif asked.
“Zecora smiled that wise smile of hers. “For a friend like you, it will suffice. You needed only ask, I would give you no price.”
“Consider it payment for what he needs then,” Grif said.
“And what could it be that this young one needs when he has accomplished such noble deeds?” the Zebra asked as she turned her attention to the human. Conor blushed.
“Well, um … it’s kind of silly,” he said.
“You realize how much I get that from local ponies?” she chuckled. “Silly is my specialty.”
Conor chuckled. “I guess you’re right, living next to Ponyville. Crazy stuff must happen to you all the time.” Zecora nodded. “Well, okay,” Conor said, fingering his arm band nervously. “I need some help deciding on a name for a unicorn.”
“A newborn?” Zecora asked.
“In a sense,” Conor said. Zecora stared him down and he sighed. “It’s probably better if I just show you.” He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and twisted the diamond. In a flash of light, the Blueblood doppelganger stood before her. “Surprise?” he asked, chuckling nervously.
Zecora’s eyes widened, but that was the only sign of surprise she gave. She paced around the unicorn, poking and prodding at various points, examining his mane, and at last carefully scrutinizing his cutie mark. Then she retreated, turning to look out a window.
“It seems I may yet have some use for that moss. Hand it here. Come, give it a toss.” Grif immediately did as instructed, throwing the bag over the cauldron as Zecora caught it in her teeth. She pried the tie open before reaching in and pulling some of the dried substance out. Carefully, she approached the cauldron before crushing the moss between her hooves and letting it sift down in powdery form.
The room suddenly darkened as the sound of drums filled the air. A draft blew through the hut, jingling the various wooden wind chimes and other items hanging from the roof. She proceeded to speak in her native tongue with a mixture of high pitched barks and brays that blended together in an almost musical medley with the drums as she danced around the pot. The cauldron bubbled, then it seethed, and finally it spat out a great green mist into the air. A shrill whinny echoed through the room as images flickered in rapid succession across the mist. At last, Zecora stamped with a thunderous clop on the floor and the drum beats stopped. The mist dissipated as quickly as it had been produced, and all was as it had been before. She slumped her shoulders as she used her cane for a prop, huffing tiredly. A haunted look shone only briefly in her eyes before they returned to their neutral state.
“For saving the life of your human friend when all for him should have come to an end, the spirits swear on your cutie mark. The name for this form is Vital Spark.”
The unicorn’s cutie mark glowed briefly at the mention of the name. “Vital Spark, huh?” he asked. Then he smiled. “I think I like it. Thanks, Zecora. And thank you everypony else,” he said, addressing the empty room.
“As always, Zecora, thanks for your help.” Grif bowed his head to the zebra.
“Thank me later, Grif Grafson. After your trials are said and done.” Then she turned to face the newly dubbed Vital Spark. “... You hear them?” she asked, her tone surprised. Vital Spark shook his head.
“I feel them. At least I think I do. I just wanted to be on the safe side and say, well, thank you,” Conor said.
Zecora chuckled, then broke into a full throated laugh as mirthful tears formed on the edges of her eyes. “Not bad, young colt, but give it some time. Perhaps I can teach you the art of the rhyme.”
“Perhaps,” Vital Spark said, smirking. “But let’s wait till next time. And who says you’ll be the one to teach me? Nobody knows. We yet shall see.” He chuckled as he slowly and carefully made his way out the hut and down the steps. Grif followed closely behind, acting as a prop to keep him steady as he got used to using four hooves. As the door closed behind them, Zecora let the tears fall freely.
“So this is when it all began.” She chuckled. “I have no choice, do I?” she asked as the winds blew gently around her. The chimes sounded again as the various tribal masks’ eyes glowed green She sighed heavily and nodded. “I will keep my promise. I will stick to the plan.”
Hammer Strike rolled his shoulders as he put on his coat. He thankfully stopped himself in the middle of reaching for his greatsword. “Dinner with Rarity,” he reminded himself as he moved over to the right, grabbing just a shortsword and a dagger.
He briefly checked the clock in his room, noting the time at around three forty-five. With a nod to himself he exited his room, heading in the direction of Rarity’s quarters.
Rarity smiled as she removed the curls from her hair, giving it an affectionate toss in the mirror as it sparkled and shone from the recent washing. She brought her hooves up for careful inspection as she levitated a cloth, rubbing it over the appendages until they shone like Pinkie’s did when Celestia first brought Discord in statue form. Lastly, she applied a layer of mascara and immediately followed it with her favorite layer of light blue eyeshadow. Lastly, she used a small makeup pencil to apply the eyeliner to make her eye color pop. Having finished her preparations, she twirled once more in front of the mirror, laughing. “Rarity, you sly minx, it may have taken most of the night and a killer makeover afterwards, but it was absolutely worth it.”
She turned to the mannequin behind her where her newest creation sat waiting. Made from a light cyan blue satin, it shimmered in the afternoon light streaming through the window. A silver trim along the hem of the dress set it off nicely with silver star accents glinting along the body of the dress at various points. A sapphire-encrusted bow was mounted at the waistline of the dress while the bottom cascaded down like a waterfall, accented by white lace trimming and miniscule diamonds designed to take the appearance of dew. Her old tiara from the gala sat on a lace pillow nearby, its gold freshly polished with its three points. Beneath each of these points, a pair of amethysts were mounted on the sides, while a star sapphire stood out boldly in place of the ruby that once had been mounted at the forepoint. “Hammer Strike is going to be positively speechless at this masterpiece.” She giggled with delight. “Oh, I can hardly wait,” she said as she levitated a pair of celestine mounted earings over and put them on, admiring herself in the mirror.
Hammer Strike turned down yet another corridor as he continued on his path to Rarity’s room. Reaching into his coat, he pulled out a pocket watch to figure out the time. Five minutes to go. A little too early, so he slowed his pace. He arrived at Rarity’s door just in time. keeping in mind how strong a knock he’d used last time, he did his best to reduce the strain and knocked as gently as he could without breaking the door down or bursting through the wood.
“Just a minute,” Rarity’s voice sang through the door. Hammer Strike could hear her magic briefly before it cut off suddenly. The door creaked open, and there was Rarity in all her bedazzling glory. “Good evening, Hammer Strike,” she said.
“Good evening, Rarity,” Hammer said, his eyes looking over her dress. “You look astonishing.”
She giggled. “Why, thank you. You don’t look half bad yourself,” she said as she stepped out of her quarters, carefully observing the details. “I love the cravat,” she said, bringing the full force of her lashes to bear. “And where were you planning on taking us tonight?”
“Clover Fields. I’ve heard plenty of good things,” he replied to her as the pair made their way out of the castle.
“You got a reservation in Clover Fields?” Rarity gasped. “Why, their reservations need to be booked months in advance. How in the wide world of Equestria did you do it?”
“Didn’t seem that difficult,” he replied with a slight hum.
“... You bought the establishment, didn’t you?”
“Technically I didn’t buy it. I gave Blast and Tower Shield a bit of control over my funds, primarily to spend, and they thought I meant to expand my revenue.”
“Well, at least that must have put somewhat of a dent in your accounts, right?”
“I would say yes, but after a visit to the bank, I learned otherwise.”
“After all the philanthropy you still haven’t lost any? You’re going to have to teach me some of your business tactics,” She said as she drew closer to him, hitting the pony lord with the full effect of her devastating eyelashes as the pair walked down the lane together. Several noble ladies and gentlecolts were eying the pair speculatively as Hammer Strike and Rarity approached the establishment in question.
“Another time. For now, we have a reservation to get to.”
“Too true. I hear their mandarin salad is to die for.”
“Let’s get to it then, shall we?” Hammer Strike said as he opened the door and took a step off to the side, holding it open. “After you.”
“Why, thank you, Sir,” Rarity said as she entered, giving a warm smile to the gentlecolt as she did her best not to let her knees buckle beneath her. Hammer Strike just smiled as he followed after.
Pensword settled into his office, which, at the moment, was little better than a storage room. He didn’t mind the room size; he would get a better office set when the barracks were finally complete. He looked over to Lunar Fang and then to the door. He was waiting for one more before he could start the meeting.
Grif stepped in a few minutes later. “Sorry about the wait,” he said.
“Not a problem,” Pensword responded, he smiled briefly before sighing and his shoulders slumped. “Grif, Lunar Fang… I am forgetting about humanity,” he admitted bluntly. “The airplane is just the most recent incident.” The books and other items he’d brought with him from home were now spread across his makeshift desk.. He pointed a wing to his phone. “Wireless Vocal Telegraph is what I called my phone a week ago. What am I to do? I know my documents, but I am having trouble thinking of my family without giving them pony features.” He shivered and ruffled his feathers. “... I’m scared.”
Grif and lunar fang moved over and hugged Pensword together gently. “It’ll be okay, dear.” Lunar fang smiled. “Good use of contractions, by the way.”
“We’ll find a way to fix this, Matthew,” Grif said.
“I sure hope so, or I am going to be an Equestrian on Earth, not a human returning home for a visit.” He looked at Grif. “What am I to do? I am forgetting how technology works. Conor actually explained how an airplane worked, and I could have done that when we first arrived, but now ... now I see them as impractical and dangerous. I want to upgrade Earth’s entire flight system.”
“They are impractical and dangerous.” Grif laughed. “You realise that most of human technology is standing on the blade of a knife? We run our vehicles using explosions, Matthew. Explosions! Don’t worry. I know we’ll figure out a way to restore your human form before you forget too much.”
“The only thing not riding the edge of a knife are the ships, and look at the size of those vessels. I remember ships the size of small cities.” He shook his head. “The explosions are good to at least put us into Luna’s domain.” He laughed at that. “I wonder if Luna would adopt astronauts as knights in her court. Honorary, of course.” Pensword chuckled. “Still,” he added, “How are you remembering the technology? The names?” He slumped more. “Faust, I wish I remembered what cannons were. I could have used them in the Third Gryphon war. Yet when I did remember what they were, there were no resources or time to invest into finding the right mixture of metals to create a non lethal cannon barrel.”
“And then we might have returned to a pony regime not unlike a certain historical figure.” Grif looked at pensword coldly. “Some technology cannot be introduced early.”
“I know,” Pensword growled. “Does not mean I have to like the choice.” He looked to the wall where the flag of Mountainside Falls hung with pride. “I need to hunt for the lost emblems of the other towns eaten by the Gryphons.” The Thestral Pegasus hybrid turned to looked Grif in the eyes, actually standing on his desk to do so as books and other materials skittered to the floor. “Could I get away with placing those emblems on the Thestrals I bring with me?”
“Why not?” Grif asked him. “Push your limits. It’s the only way you’ll learn what they are”
“Good. Then the Gryphons will know who I am.” He grinned as he stepped off his desk. “I better get some soapbox to stand on for when Gryphons come to meet me,” he muttered to himself. He paused to peck his wife on the side of the muzzle. “Sadly, I do not have the time for that research. I may just have to use the Mountainside Falls emblem.” He walked around to his desk and pulled out medallions. Attached to metal chains, a disk portraying a mountain range with five peaks stood out in the light. A waterfall was etched flowing down from the middle peak. On one side of the falls, the cutie mark of the long dead Baron Happy Hooves was proudly engraved: a pair of horseshoes forming the shape of a heart. On the other side of the falls, the old town hall stood resolute and defiant. “I had these stamped in Canterlot during the week. What do you think?” Grif noticed one other emblem, the medallion of Commandant for Fort Triumph.
“Very nice.” Grif nodded. “I have my squad assembling at the gates in twenty minutes, so I’m going to do my last minute prep.”
“I understand. I shall have my troops and Cosy ready in thirty minutes. We have to pack our real armor and wear the now outdated Lunar Armor like you wanted,” he answered as he looked to Lunar Fang with a sad smile. “I love you, dear,” he said, kissing her full on the muzzle.
Lunar Fang smiled and looked at Grif and Pensword. “I’ll leave you two war heroes to do any last minute planning. Wouldn’t want any leaks to get out, now would we?” She smirked and kissed her husband one more time, drawing away slowly. She smiled at him before turning around and giving Grif a Thestral salute. As she made her way to the door, she turned around one last time as she fixed her gaze on Pensword.
“Just hurry back,” she told him. “And don’t die.”
“I shall try not to die,” Pensword few to her and took the mare’s head in a forehoof, drawing her muzzle to muzzle. “Know this. If I do, you have my full authority to take revenge upon any of the Gryphons that killed me and not to stop till you stand in front of the doors of Gryphelheim itself.” Lunar Fang nodded, tears in her eyes as she broke the contact and marched away. If she were to turn back now, she didn’t know if she would have the strength to let him go. Pensword slowly dropped his forehoof as the door closed with the sound of finality.
“I don’t know how you guys do it,” Vital Spark said as he flopped into a giant chair in the council chamber. I must’ve had everypony in Ponyville bowing and cowtowing at me.” He shuddered then sighed. “I wish Rarity were here.”
“That is because you look like Blueblood. If you do not want that, stay human.” Pensword responded as he inspected his gear on the floor while simultaneously helping Cosy with his.
“I can’t. Not till I’m used to walking around in this form anyways. I um … still feel uncomfortable with the whole naked thing.”
“You could get a manecut,” Grif offered.
“... I guess I could,” Conor said dubiously. “I’m just worried Blueblood’s going to pin me down and try to insult me for ‘trying to impersonate him.’” Vital said, raising his hooves and bending them to form air quotations. “Huh … not the same impact as with fingers, is it?”
“Why? You have a different cutie mark. If anything, he might be flattered at setting a trend for manes and coat colors.” Pensword snorted. “You also have the right coat color in some upper crust: pure white, like Celestia.”
“It wouldn’t be so bad if it weren’t for those flower sisters.” Vital Spark groaned. “Instead of ‘oh, the horror,’ I got giddy fangirl squeals. It’s bad enough trying to get used to walking around naked without having every single pony examining my flank to make sure I’m telling the truth.”
“Well, at least now everypony knows though, right?” Cosy asked.
“True. But I don’t think Diamond Tiara’s convinced. She’s been tailing me all day.”
Pensword looked to his friend. “I think that is better than them going after the CMC. Do you agree or disagree with that assessment?” He sighed and looked at the ground. “Sorry for my actions earlier. I’m just ... worried about some things, and I let it cloud my sight for the moment.”
“Apology accepted. I’m going to have to see if I can’t get some help from Twilight learning how to use magic now, though. I don’t want to risk having another emotional outburst hurting somepony,” Vital said.
“Please. I took harder hits than that.” Grif laughed. “There was this one guy with a warhammer, now he hit hard.”
“I thought that was Hammer Strike with the minotaurs,” Vital said.
“I never said it was a minotaur.” Grif chuckled again. “Remember, I fought behind enemy lines during the war.”
“And Shrial’s still mad at you for putting yourself in danger, isn’t she?” Vital asked.
“That was a different time. I was a warrior; we both were. As for now? I’m not even remotely worried. The old ways were much more brutal and as far as it’s known, I’m the last warrior of the old ways alive.”
“And you’ve carried them out with honor.” Vital nodded sagely. “So tomorrow’s the big day, huh?” he asked. “You three head off for the coast, and I go back to Canterlot for a few days.” He casually took a foal’s book from his saddlebag and flipped it open to the first page.
“I remember that book. Twilight had me read it back when I was learning.” Pensword laughed. “Still, you stay safe in Canterlot.” He took a deep breath. “I have it worst, I think. I get to travel to the heart of my enemy.”
“Just remember not all gryphons are bad. The emperor likes Grif and the Crystal Empire, right? Just keep that temper of yours in check and everything will be fine,” Vital said as he traced a hoof over a line. “... so baby sunshine made her way up the mountain to the wishing pool …” he muttered.
“Just because the emperor likes me doesn’t mean the kings do,” Grif said. “Until we’re in Gryphelheim, nothing is certain. Nothing is certain even inside the city. Here’s hoping we can get sanctuary in the monastery during our stay.”
“Conor.” Pensword stared the Unicorn down, his expression bleak. “I am a Demon to them. I took the gems of their military from them. I read that when they learned I was dead, they Celebrated for three days that I would no more walk the earth and breathe the air they breathed.”
“All the more reason for them not to mess with you. They already tried to kill you and you beat each and every one of their assassins no problem. Sure, it’ll be dangerous. Something bad’ll probably happen and you’ll get stuck right in the middle of things, but you’ll come out of it alright, I’m certain of it.” Vital smiled.
Pensword gave Conor a strange look. “Which is why I am putting my guard down, and I plan to arrive on a posture of power and authority.” He looked down at Cosy. “Plus, I will protect the Prince of the Crystal Empire with my life if need be.”
“It’s not gonna come down to that,” Cosy said, pouting. “Don’t talk like that! That’s an order from the prince. No pessa--um … no worrywarts!” he said, clacking a hoof against the stone floor for emphasis.
“Please keep in mind, my young prince,” Grif said, looking at Bellacosa, “that you are prince of the crystal ponies. My gryphons will see to your safety to their better judgement and my orders before your own. Your life is the most important thing on this trip.”
“Cosy.” Pensword started with a loving tone of voice. “I have faced Gryphons before, but I also know as a Commander just what is important to the mission. I have no plans to die, but I also have no illusions that this is going to be a cakewalk. I prepare for the worst so I can react accordingly. Plan for the worst, hope for the best.”
“You’re still not gonna die,” Cosy said stubbornly as he aggressively polished his breastplate.
“Agreed,” Pensword said, placing a wing over Cosy’s head. “I plan to return to my daughter alive and make sure that I can teach thee to be a Commander.”
“You’d better,” Vital Spark said. “Otherwise, I’ll have to get Hammer Strike to pull you back.”
Pensword sighed. “I will do what I can, but if Faust calls me, I shall heed that call.” He kneeled next to Cosy. “But I will do what I can to make sure you come home safely.” He looked at his armor, his face grim in its distorted reflection. “I still have wounds and scars unhealed concerning the Gryphons.”
“I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised by his holiness,” Vital said.
“It also takes time,” Pensword responded. “I am better than at the end of the war, but I am still learning to forgive. Ask Grif what I have almost done to some of the Gryphons who snuck up behind me recently.”
“Hope for the best, prepare for the worst,” Grif reminded both of them. “That’s the best we can do. Now, to other matters. Vital, please inform Conor that Rook will be taking extra special care of his training while I am away,” Grif instructed, casually gesturing to the young crystal prince. “I expect him to keep to it while we’re away.”
“Don’t worry, he already knows. He’s actually looking forward to the improvements he’ll be making while you’re away. Though he did mention something about wanting to practice with a bow and arrow.”
“Just remind him no matter what they say, don’t try a gryphon’s bow. They’re just making fun of him,” Grif said.
“I’ll make sure to let him know, assuming I don’t get too engrossed in this storybook here,” Vital said, smirking.
“Oh, right. Grif, should I bring that modified bow with me?” Pensword asked. “You’re the Smee on Gryphons at the moment.”
“Have you gotten a good handle on it?” Grif asked. “Don’t bring any weapon you can’t use.”
“Well, not as good as I was in human form, but I am trying to stay sharp. I was hoping to practice on the ship while in transit so I do not lose flexibility.”
“Great. I just have one question: why are you naming Grif after a character from a storybook in the humans’ world?” Vital asked.
Pensword stared blankly at Vital for a good five seconds before he dropped his head and chuckled. “Smee. It stands for Subject Matter Expert. Smee for short.”
“Oh. Now I get it,” Vital said. “You guys use a lot of military jargon, don’t you?”
Pensword cut off the chuckles. “Well, of course. You think I would use medical jargon while leading troops?”
“... Point taken,” Vital said, blushing as he returned to his book once more.
Vital Spark smiled as he stepped off the train and into Canterlot proper. It had taken some time to get used to being in this form, but now he found he could trot, canter, walk, and run with ease. A few nervous looks came from time to time as he made his way through the city, but by now he’d gotten used to it, and while he still had trouble being technically “naked,” he had to get used to the sensation sooner or later. Maybe he’d ask Hammer Strike for some tips after he got back to the castle.
“Hey!” A voice yelled out as a well groomed and richly dressed noble trotted up before stopping. “Oh, my apologies, I thought you were somepony else. Are you a fan of Prince Blueblood?” He asked as he eyed the White Unicorn. “Well, what’s your name, then? You are speaking to Steel Flask, Son of the Baron of Staliongrad.”
For a moment Vital Spark looked like a deer caught in the headlights before snapping out of it. “M-my name is Vital Spark, sir. I just arrived from Ponyville. I came to visit a friend up at the castle.”
“Well,” the noble answered, only half listening, “here is my card. If you have a free moment, just drop this off at my estate and I’ll see if I can’t set up a meeting with your role model.” He turned around without waiting for a response. “See you around.” It was here that Vital double checked his medallion to make sure it was functioning properly. Certain that it was, he looked after the young noble, confused. The accent sounded incredibly Russian.
“Staliongrad. Hmmm …” Vital said as he stuck the card into one of his saddlebags while he pulled his suitcases along, the violin slung around his back as he pressed forward. “Shawn’s not going to believe this.” He chuckled. With that, he pressed on through the crowd. Unbeknownst to him, several hidden eyes followed him wherever he went as he slowly made his way toward the castle.
Pensword looked out upon the harbor of Horseshoe Bay. Sparkling seafoam soared up the shoals, filling the air with the scent of salt and brine. He took a deep breath, savoring the sensation of the wind in his mane. “My second most favorite location in the world,” he said fondly as some few memories from his days on Earth returned.
“It’s going to be a decent voyage,” Grif noted. “As long as the wind picks up, we should be there within a week.”
“So, an English Channel?” Pensword asked in Dragonic. “That seems a rather short time to travel between land masses.”
“Magic,” Grif reminded him. “The sails can increase the force of the wind, making them go farther and faster.”
Belacosa looked excitedly down the dock where a brig sat waiting in the water, its twin masts unfurling its sails in the wind as the colors of the Crystal Empire flashed brightly in the sun atop the tallest yellow mast. Its wood had been specially treated and painted with a Seapony figurehead at its bow, the bow sail hovering protectively over it like a guardian angel. A bright forest-green colored the main body of the ship, and just beneath the water where the waves lapped, the slightest hint of glossy red could be seen, edging towards the sun with barnacles attached at intermittent points. The railings on the ship were also painted yellow to compliment the masts and color theme of the vessel. As the party approached the docks, the crystal ponies formed up around the prince, awaiting the all clear.
Pensword walked up to the plank. “Ahoy, Captain. Permission to come aboard?” He called.
“Come aboard ye spinless Landlubbers, and tremble at the might of Captain Hammock.” A loud voice called out as a Pegasus landed from the crow's nest. He glared at them, appraising the warriors. A sailor’s scowl barely showed through his gruff black beard that grew through the blue fur of his coat. His mane and tail were the same shade of black as his beard. Upon his head sat a Captains cap with the trading company’s logo on it: two crossed swordfish with a stack of three barrels in a pyramid between them. “Who am I speaking with?”
“Commander Pensword Hurricane;” Grif pointed to Pensword. “His highness, prince bellacosa of the crystal empire;” he pointed to Cosy. “And Grif Bladefeather, son of Graf. We and our company have had passage arranged on this vessel.”
“Of course ye have!” Hammock growled. “Can’t believe I have to babysit a bunch of Landlubbers heading to the most rough n’ tumble port this side of the Celestial Sea.” He snorted. “Bunch of blistering and clanking barnacles that lot of seafaring Gryphons.”
“Those are strong words, cap’n.” Grif glared into the pony’s eyes. “I may not have yer experience on the waves, but I ain’t no stranger to the sea.”
“Well, prove it to me on this voyage and I might rescind me comment, but I assure you, the weather’s rough and the entire lot of you’ll be seasick before the third day, mark my words.” He turned around. “Ten thousand blistering typhoons, what are you lot doing? You can’t load the cargo like that!” He was gone in a flash as he started to lay into some of his crew: a mixture of Earth Ponies and Pegasi. Occasionally a minotaur would appear on deck with a whip. He was most likely the bo’sun, though considering his bulk and the shaggy fur, perhaps bison would have been the better term. It took the better part of an hour, but the cargo was finally loaded and the ship prepared for departure.
“Here,” Grif said, giving Bellacosa a chunk of ginger. “When you start to feel sick, start chewing on this. It’ll hit you like a truck, but it will help.”
“Oh yeah. Maybe we can find candied Ginger in our travel? I love that stuff. Mom would ration it to me,” Pensword responded with a grin. “See you aboard!” he called as he stepped onto the gangplank and began to walk up. Behind him, members of the Dream Clan followed him up as well, dressed in the Lunar Guard’s old armor.
“Um, Mister Grif?” Cosy asked.
“Yes?”
“What’s a truck?”
Grif facetaloned.
Princess Celestia settled down upon the large picnic blanket the staff had set out for the small party. The sun was shining, the birds were chirping, and everything seemed absolutely perfect. She looked to Hammer Strike. “It seems nature is taking its course. Philomena’s chosen to build a nest near the chimney at the smiths.”
“Her and Renati,” he hummed afterwards before nodding. “Glad he came along.”
“You think those two like each other?” Vital Spark asked as he wobbled a sandwich to his mouth, his horn glowing.
Hammer Strike nodded in response.
“It is rare for a phoenix to find a mate in captivity,” Luna noted.
“Are they really captured though? Seems more like they want to stay,” Vital said. “I mean, you guys don’t keep them in cages, right?” He moved to chomp on the sandwich just as it slipped out of his grasp. “Darn it.”
Celestia hid a smile behind her teacup. “Still, this isn’t the most ideal place for phoenixes to gather, so it’s rare for two to even meet outside of their natural habitat.”
“Hey! I heard that!” Vital yelled suddenly.
“Heard what?” Luna asked.
“That laughing. Somepony’s mocking me.” The Unicorn frowned. “And I don’t like it.”
“Um, Vital Spark, Dearie, I think you might have had a teensie bit too much sun today. No one is laughing. Quite the contrary in fact,” Rarity said, looking on in concern.
“I’m fine, Rarity. I know what it’s like to face heat exhaustion. This isn’t even close.” He perked his ears. “Actually, now that I think about it, it’s more like what happened when Sylvio was talking to me before.”
“Who’s Sylvio?” Celestia asked, her brow furrowed with concern. “A friend?”
“He’s a timberwolf, a good one. Grif saved his life and he helped me find a cure back when Shawn had his um … incident.”
“The overtake,” Hammer started. “Corruption, whatever you want to call it, but you might as well call it what it was.”
“Right.” Vital winced. “Anyways, Sylvio led me to someone who could help. It’s where I got the crystal I used to bring Shawn back.”
Celestia looked around at the garden. “I think we’re going to need to have to have a long talk about this.” She gave her sister a quick sideways glance. “If Hammer Strike is willing to wait for an evening.”
“Eh,” Hammer shrugged. “I’ve waited for longer periods of time.”
Vital’s left ear twitched and his horn started to glow. “I swear, if that voice doesn’t shut up, I’m going to--” a loud squawk filled the air as a tail feather from Renati suddenly zipped over to the party. Everyone looked on, shocked, especially Vital. “I didn’t mean it!” he cried as the phoenix fixed him with a deadly glare. “Wait a second. It was you?” Vital got to his hooves. “You and I are going to have a long talk about this, Renati.” Vital’s eyes narrowed as he sat back down.
This time, Celestia didn’t bother disguising the exchange between her sister. “Luna, can you make time in your court tonight for the three of us to talk?” She fixed Vital with a glare. “I shall teach you how to ask forgiveness of a phoenix.”
“... He started it,” Vital said, slumping even as he frowned over his now ruined sandwich.
“And I think we’re going to need to hasten those magic lessons, Sister,” Luna said. “Clearly, Vital Spark’s magic needs to be put under control before he accidentally hurts anypony else. Perhaps you should enroll him in your school?”
Celestia took on her usual cryptic expression. “Why? I think you’re in a strong enough position to take on a personal student.”
“I’m not sure,” Luna smiled back. “How would the public react to my student ascending to royalty in less then a fourth the time it took yours?”
“I don’t care,” Celestia responded, wrapping a wing around her sister. “I would be proud of you nonetheless.” She laughed and bopped her on the nose with her hoof. “Besides, you know as well as I do that’s not how it works.”
“Count yourself lucky you can understand and hear Renati. I wish I could, it’d make things a lot easier,” Hammer Strike told Vital.
“Hammer, don’t take this the wrong way, but he’s a lot like you, only ten times worse.”
“Hey, don’t talk about Renati that way,” Hammer replied as he gave Vital a flat stare. Renati flew down, landing on Hammer’s back to give Vital the same stare.
“He treats me like I’m the village idiot. Then again, he doesn’t exactly know who I really am either, so I suppose I should give him some leeway.” Vital sighed heavily as he looked up to the phoenix. “Sorry, Renati. Maybe you’d understand if you saw me in my other form.” Vital turned the diamond on his foreleg band and stretched in his human form before picking up the feather where it lay on the blanket. “I know you’ll probably be upset with me for a while, but I hope this can make you understand why I’m such a stupid pony. I haven’t been one for very long yet. Sorry.” He then offered the feather to the phoenix. Up at the smokestack, Philomena watched intently.
Renati kept the blank stare for a few seconds before snatching the feather with lightning speed. It hung from his mouth as he flew for the nest. Conor winced as he looked at his bleeding hand. “Anypony got a bandaid?”
Celestia’s horn glowed as a piece of white fabric wrapped around the bleeding hand. She looked to Hammer Strike. “I’ve had bad luck healing humans in the past, so this will have to do.”
Conor nodded. “It’s better this way. I’d rather not take a shortcut when it comes to something like this. If Renati gave it to me, it’s probably meant to be a reminder. It’ll heal in its own time. Now, about those magic lessons?” Luna blanched.
The wind was pleasant and strong, the sails were full, and the ship was cutting through the water with little effort. Occasionally the sea spray even reached the deck bow. Pensword stood there with a sea specked mane looking excitedly out to sea. Nothing but ocean surrounded them as far as the eye could see. His ear twitched and reluctantly, he turned around to face the deck. A commotion had risen in the area between the single long boat and the main mast in the middle of the vessel. He sighed. “Grif,” he muttered as he stepped towards the source. He snorted at the three Crystal guards by the railing. They looked more crystal green than anything else. “Be sure to drink something later. We can not have you be dehydrated when we arrive.” He smirked as he realized it was only day three of seven on their journey.
“Are we going to die?” one guard asked.
Pensword chuckled. “No, you are just seasick. You will either get your sea legs or you are going to be praising Faust when we reach port.” He smirked and skipped the rest of the way, just to annoy the guards before he reached the scene of the commotion. He took to the sky and perched on one of the side arms where the sails would be stored. Settling down, he waited and observed as the next fight broke out.
Grif stood across the makeshift circle from a yellow Pegasus. The Gryphon was currently clothed only in a black tunic with the sleeves torn off. He held a stiletto in hand, but no other weapons. His fur was scratched and cut in multiple places, but he’d sustained no serious injuries. The Pegasus across from him held a kris dagger in his muzzle and both stared at each other intently. On the mast, three other knives were currently impaled into the wood. All around sailors were making wagers on the coming fight, and much to Pensword’s surprise, Hammock stood in the front of the crowd. “I got a barrel of salt on High Seas. He’s the best knife fighter we got on this vessel.”
“Captain, gambling…” Pensword paused and settled back down breathing in and out. Only to jerk up in shock as Cosy spoke up.
“I have a Crystal blade on Grif!” Pensword’s eyes widened as Grif could already hear him repeating one word over and over again. What was more worrying was that he was the only Crystal pony in the group. All the other guards were seasick.
“No, No, No, No, No, No, No, No, No, No, No, No, No, No, No, No, No, No, No, No, No, No, No, No,” Pensword glared at the Gryphon, as well as the two Thestral stallions sandwiching Cosy. They would have their reckoning soon enough.
The crowd roared as the wagers finished, each party cheering for their own side as the Gryphon and Pegasus faced each other down. “Ye both know the rules,” One sailor spoke loudly. “No killing. No maiming. First one to remove the other’s knife and drive it into the mast wins. Each of ye take a shot.” The earth pony held up a bottle to Grif, who took it and, to the cheers of the crowd, took a swig before handing it over. Only Pensword saw his eyes twitch from the taste. The bottle was handed to High Seas, who in turn took a drink. “And go!”
The moment the speaker was out of the way, sparks flew as the narrow stiletto met the serpentine kris, and powerful Gryphon met Speedy Pegasus. The movements where rapid and for a moment Pensword almost found them artistic as the two fighters danced their deadly dance. The first hit went to high seas as he opened a cut on Grifs shoulder, causing the Gryphon to back off. With a growl, Grif moved in for a sweep at the Pegasus’s leg, but his target dodged the blow by a hair’s breadth. He returned with a slash that ended up taking one of Grif’s crest feathers. Grif grimaced before charging ahead with rapid blows, his opponent parrying to the best of his ability. Still, the Gryphon managed to open three small cuts on his opponent’s barrel. The Pegasus returned with a daring swing at Grif’s claw, only for Grif to catch him and toss him behind. He charged forward as High Seas recovered, the Pegasus thrusting the dagger for Grif’s shoulder. Grif dodged to the left before locking the cross hilt of his stiletto on the kris’ blade. He pushed forward with all the strength he could muster. The Pegasus laughed as he felt the Gryphons push suddenly stop and moved to recover only to find his knife wouldn’t move. Looking up, he saw the mast just behind his head with his kris now buried hilt deep in the wood. Grif snapped the blunt side of the stiletto against High Seas’ hooves, causing him to let go. The crowd of sailors, Thestrals, and others who had bet on the warrior roared in victory.
“And the bird takes it again.” The former speaker returned. “Lets hear it for the big old magpye!”
Pensword used this pause to land on the deck next to Cosy. “So, betting your Crystal blade? What would you sister have to say if she learned you lost it?”
“Kady says it’s not betting if it’s a sure thing,” Cosy said proudly.
Pensword sighed. “What am I going to do with you?” he asked in fake exasperation. “What would Shining say?”
“He’d say I should have played up the value of the blade to make the other guys’ bets larger,” Cosy said proudly.
“Spoken like a true Captain of the Guard,” Pensword muttered. “I really do have my work cut out for me.”
“You should come to poker night some time! Just be ready; Kady always wins.” He beamed.
“Only if you bet candy or Crystal Berry Icecream,” Pensword answered. “I never gambled. I think I used my luck against the Gryphons. Now, if you will excuse me, Cosy, I will need to speak to Grif about something.”
He turned around and got all of two steps before one of the larger Unicorn sailors stepped into his path. “Well, I do say, I don’t like that tone of voice you took with the young prince. You act like his father.” he said in a mocking tone.
“‘Oi!” Hammock cried “You got sense, do you lad?” he asked the Unicorn. “This is Commander Pensword Hurricane, High Duke of Ys. He saved the crystal royals’ life. He can take what tone he pleases with the prince.”
The Unicorn turned from Hammock to the Pegasus. “Blimey. Don’t you know how to toot your own horn?” He shook his head. “You are the strangest pony I’ve ever met.” He smiled wider. “Well, why don’t you join us down below for a game of cards, eh? Imagine that, a Duke bunking with us.”
“I sleep just the same as any other pony. Have scars as well,” Pensword answered coolly. “As for a card game…” He found Cosy slipping a bag of coin next to his hoof. He sighed in defeat at the smile Cosy gave him. “I guess one or two games tonight won’t hurt.” He looked around the Unicorn. “I shall meet you down below. I have one more to talk to.” The Unicorn nodded and left.
Pensword finished the path of his goal as he walk up to Grif. “So, getting the hang for ship battles?” he asked with a mild case of curiosity.
“It’s a bit tricky with the rocking of the ship,” Grif said as he pulled a knife from the mast, examining it. “Huh. This is real Saddle Arabian steel. How about that?” He chuckled before stowing it away. “Still, these sailors aren't half as brutal as the old bird was to me.”
“That is good. I just have one little question for you.” Pensword took a deep breath and proceeded to shout in a manner reminiscent of Twilight when Celestia first brought Discord back. “Why in Equestria did you cause such a commotion? Cosy gambled on you. Cosy!” He took a steady breath.
“And now he has a bit of credit on a boat full of professional sailors.” Grif smiled his oh so annoying grin at Pensword. “You’re welcome. Anyway, things were getting a little tense between your Thestrals and some of the sailors; something about the tides and Nightmare Moon and leading the ship to destruction. Anyway, I started a conversation about what they do for sport, which led to a discussion about knife fighting, and I may have offhandedly said that I’d give my knife to the pony that could best me in a knife fight. Next thing I know, here we are.” Grif shrugged. He held up the switch blade, testing the mechanism a few times.
“Right,” Pensword responded, drawing out his word. “Well, at least you got them to hopefully accept my clan on board.” He shook his head. “I should have studied up on sailor lore here. Nonetheless, I think Luna would enjoy that the sailors have a small part of the stern dedicated to the Lunar Princess for safe voyage.”
“They fear what they don’t know.” Grif shrugged. “Gambling and sport are something soldiers and sailors know well, so I figured if I created some common ground they’d start to understand each other. And I got some nice knives out of it. It’s not like it hurt.”
Pensword looked at his friend with exasperation. “Grif. You. Are. Bleeding.” He used a wing to point to the cuts. “Right there, there, and there!”
“Huh?” Grif looked around his body. “Huh, I guess they got me a few times? Not like it’s life threatening or anything. Maybe a swim in the salt water will sterilize them.”
“Grif, do you want to risk attracting the sharks?” The Gryphon took on a face of deep thought. “You are actually considering it?” Pensword threw his wings open and his hooves into the air. “Unbelievable!”
“Oh, and like you never wanted to wrestle a shark,” Grif said, rolling his eyes.
Pensword dropped to all fours, closing his wings as he deadpanned. “I give up.”
In an antechamber branching off from Celestia’s throne room, the solar princess looked at Luna and Vital. “Now, tell us about Sylvio and who you had to meet.”
“Like I said, Sylvio’s a Timberwolf. From what I understand, Grif found him as a pup when he was being attacked by his pack. Grif pretty much cut them to pieces and took Sylvio home. After that, Fluttershy helped nurse him back to health. From there, Grif raised him to be kind and loyal. Sylvio’s not like other Timberwolves.”
“How is he not like other timberwolves?” Luna asked. “What’s unusual about him?”
“Well, he’s white for one, with smooth bark and glowing blue eyes,” Vital responded. “Grif thought he was an albino until Sylvio started talking to me. Then he explained it.”
Celestia gave Luna a sideways glance before asking the next question. “What did he explain to you? And what an interesting wood composition. I must congratulate Grif on his luck next time I see him.”
Vital groaned inwardly. He’d seen and read enough to know misdirection when he heard it. “He talked about being pushed into some mist by his brothers. He found some wood and ate it, and that’s what made him the way he is now. When he went back to his family to show them, they started attacking him.”
“Did he describe anything about this wood that he ate?” Luna asked. “Such a thing may prove a boon for taming the timberwolves and lessening their danger to ponies.”
“He called it the white wood. That’s about all I know about it.”
Luna and Celestia shared a look while Vital did all he could to keep his face calm. “And this person he took you to meet? I would like to know a force who would have such powerful magic,” Luna noted again.
“And there’s where we have an impasse,” Vital sighed. “I promised not to reveal the person’s identity as part of the bargain for the crystal and as a favor for some other help.”
Celestia smiled as she walked to Vital’s right, draping one of her large wings over his back. “Ah, but what if we were to say we knew who you were talking about? What then?” She asked as she gave Luna a knowing wink.
“Then I’d have to hear it before I believed it,” Vital said.
“Have you heard the Legend of the Tree of Harmony?” Luna asked. “It’s a very ancient tale about a large crystal tree hidden away somewhere in Equestria. They say that on it’s trunk are three cutie marks, carefully inscribed: the sun--” she nodded to celestia.
Celestia smiled as she used her wing to turn Vital’s head to look her in the eye. “--The moon, and a six pointed star.” She smiled warmly at the Unicorn like a mare to her foal. “With five gem impressions. It is said the Elements of Harmony were born from this tree. Sound familiar?”
“An interesting legend. But I’m curious, why didn’t Twilight tell me about it herself? I know how much she loves history, especially old legends. As I recall, that’s how she found the Elements of Harmony in the first place.”
Celestia looked to Vital Spark. “As my sister said, it’s a very old story. As a matter of fact, it was old even when we were both fillies.” Her eyes gleamed with anticipation. “As for Twilight, that is for later on in her journey. Just because she’s a Princess doesn’t mean her learning is complete. It’s simply ... graduated to another arena.”
“And if such is the case, then does that mean the tree is in fact real, just as Nightmare Moon was?” Vital asked.
“Equestria is a land of many mysteries,” Luna said, bringing her teacup to her mouth. “Even the two of us cannot always know when reality and mythology collide within our kingdom.”
Celestia smiled as she looked to an empty stone wall, nodded once, and with a blast of magic the image of the Tree of Harmony appeared on the wall. She watched the Unicorn intently.
Vital stared at the tree, his gaze focused, his body stiff as he approached and placed a hoof against the image. “Who’s the artist?” he asked as he made a show of viewing the branches and other detailed etchings.
“So, you have encountered it,” Luna said as she studied his face.
“As for the artist?” Celestia smiled smugly. “This is from a memory.”
“And what would this memory of yours entail?” Vital asked, choosing to focus on Celestia’s statement first. “Were you the author of the legend?”
Celestia looked to Luna giving her a nod. “While this game has been fun, I think it’s time we brought it to an end.” Her face grew serious. “We both knew you were marked by the tree, just as we both were, and even as the Element holders are now. We also know the tree’s need for privacy. This should satisfy the requirements of your promise, I hope.” She looked appealingly to her sister. “I’m sorry, sister, but if we continued any further we may have been here all night and still gotten nowhere.”
“I’m still not quite convinced. If the tree of harmony really is real, and if I really did visit there, then I’d prefer if you two were to tell me its location.”
“It is below where it all began,” Luna offered, clearly unwilling to give the exact location out to the open air.
“In discord’s reign?” Vital asked. The pair nodded. “Then I can speak plainly?” Again, they nodded. “Alright. Sylvio ate some wood from the tree because she took pity on him. That gave him some essence of order and harmony, which his family didn’t like. Something about eating black roots, apparently. Harmony made me swear not to tell anyone about where she was or her children’s origins. She also used Sylvio to save me when I was in Ponyville hospital and under siege by the corrupted essence that had possessed Shawn and triggered the thaumic overtake. Apparently she holds a strong connection with him. So, Sylvio basically licked the invasive force into submission, his sap absorbed into my scalp and made contact with the alichorn growing there, and thus allowed me a magical connection with Harmony herself after she exorcised the entity from my body. Then she had Sylvio lead me to her and gave me the crystal after she filled me with an extra dose of her purity to balance out the chaos that remained in my system. Any questions?”
Celestia shook her head. “None at the moment, but we do have a request. Under absolutely no circumstances are you to tell Twilight or any of the others. Let them discover the location themselves.”
“Deal,” Vital said.
“Still, it is a blessing the tree protects and guides us even today. Faust help us if she ever gets sick,” Celestia said.
“Yes, at least the tree is intact.” Luna nodded in agreement.
Vital raised a hoof, only to find himself suddenly unable to speak as his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth, his jaw held tight.
‘... don’t ...’ The voice was so quiet he almost couldn’t hear it, but it was unmistakable all the same.
“Is something the matter?” Celestia asked before smirking. “Ah, the tree did something to you, didn’t it?” Vital nodded. Celestia put a supportive wing over the Unicorn. “Don’t worry. She did the same thing to us to protect herself from Discord. We can never reveal the exact location to anyone who didn’t know about her already.”
“... I see.” He looked deep in thought before lifting his head. “On to lighter topics. You two said something about getting a teacher, right?” Vital asked.
Celestia smiled and looked to Luna. “What do you say? Ready to take up your first student?”
“I… have much to organize in Ys yet,” Luna said. “I am afraid I am ill-prepared at this time.”
Celestia looked to Vital. “Very well, I guess I can set up a correspondence course with you. I’ll see what I could do with teaching, but it might be better to find you a tutor who’s closer to home. Then we can have you come here every once in a while to check on your progress.” She looked to her sister. “I hope I can see a Lunar Student in the next decade, though, sister.”
“I hope so as well, sister,” Luna nodded with a slight cringe. “... Just not yet.”
“So, um … can I go to bed now?” Vital asked.
Celestia nodded. “I think so. Luna, will you be okay for the rest of the night?”
“Of course, sister. After all, I am the night,” she said, winking mischievously as she disappeared in a flash of moonlight.
Pensword slowly walked down one of the wooden staircases into the hold of the ship. It had been converted into a makeshift place to play cards and he was the last to arrive. He paused upon seeing one of the ponies. “Heavy Set? I thought I gave you leave to visit your cousin.”
Heavy Set laughed and Pensword swore the entire ship rumbled. “Am visiting cousin,” he said, smacking a nearby sailor on the back and sending him flying into a nearby bed.
“Ah, well it is good to see you.” Pensword took a seat on a barrel. “So what are we playing?” He looked around at the other sailors nodding at a large Ox Minotaur with black fur and a crazy set of blond hair. He paused upon seeing a small Crystal golem in the shape of Yellow box sitting upon a single metal wheel. A white crystal protruded from the upper center of the golem where a blue light glowed. At either side, arms and pincers jutted out to manipulate things. Pensword smiled at the table, and finally at the Unicorn who had invited him to the game.
“I forgot how advanced Crystal technology was,” Pensword muttered as the Unicorn began to deal out and the players picked up their cards. Pensword looked at his hand as he tried to remember what his grandmother taught him about poker.
“You all knowing five card?” Heavy Set asked as he shuffled the cards. “Ace and two are being wild.”
Pensword nodded his head. “I believe so.” He placed the same number of coins that Heavy Set started the pot with.
“Any soldier knows the game, Heavy. Come on, let’s get on with it already,” the offensive Unicorn said. His cutie mark showed the image of salt being spread over a cut as his red mane shook in the dusky lamplight. His brown fur coat was ragged and caked with salt from the waves as he slammed a hoof on the table, leaving a small pile of bits. “I have a pub at those docks with my name on it, and I’ll be needing my little gold friends here to help pay the tab.”
The crystal golem looked to those around him before putting it’s own bits on the table. “I don’t know about you guys, but I have utmost confidence in myself.”
Pensword remained silent as he watched the other players.
“Meh” the large pony placed a bag of bits on the table.
“You got any bits, Pensword? This here’s a betting game,” the Unicorn said as he took a swig from his flask.
“Yeah, these two coins,” he answered placing two bits on the table. “Also, we all know each other’s name, what is yours? I did call Starswirl a Horn Head.”
The Unicorn spluttered as he did a spit take, coughing up a storm. “You did what to who now?”
“Yeah, right! And I called the Vault Hunter a dwarf to make fun of his explosive temper,” the golem laughed.
“You heard me. He called me a Feather Brain first.” Pensword said. “Back then I could have challenged him to a duel.” He looked at his wings. “I could have won, too. I think he got off lightly. Still, you never answered my question: what is your name, Unicorn?” Pensword asked, his voice chilling the surrounding sailors.
“Name’s Salt Sting,” he said. “I think you can guess why.” He smirked as he gazed shiftily at the competitors.
“Well, I believe we are ready to be dealt the cards,” Pensword said. “Heavy, if you will?”
Heavy grunted before he started dealing the cards. “If you are being caught cheating, I let sasha deal with you.”
“And my Wingblades,” Pensword added. “If you survive Heavy’s Sasha.”
“Yeah yeah, let’s get down to it.” Salt Sting said as he looked over his card hand again.
Pensword looked at his cards, but not a muscle twitched as he stared at the other players.
Heavy looked at the pot. “I raise.”
Pensword looked at the situation. “I raise an additional three bits.”
Salt Sting looked at the table and his hand. “I call.”
“This call is well within my accepted parameters for kicking your butts,” the golem said.
Heavy threw in one more bit. “I raise.”
Pensword smiled softly. “I match your raise and raise it an additional bit.”
Salt Sting sighed. “I fold.” The pot held now about twenty three bits.
“Hey! Know what the best poker players shave with? A RAISE-er!” The golem exclaimed, putting three bits in, he waited for the laughter. “Get it? A ra-” he stopped. “I’ll just shut up forever,” he finished.
“Eh…. fold,” Heavy said, placing his cards down.
“I raise the pot to make it, taking it from Twenty Six bits, to Thirty five bits total.” Pensword responded.
“I wonder how many bits I could buy with those bits,” the golem commented, looking to the pot. After a moment he looked up. “Oh, sorry, was it my turn? I…” He paused, looking at Pensword. “Fold.”
Pensword flipped his hand over with joy, revealing his highest card as a nine.
So,” Pensword started as he racked in the bits to his side. “What is your name?” he asked as he turned to the crystal golem. The rest of the table was looking on in stunned silence.
“I am CRY7-TL, but you can call me Crys-trap!”
Salt Sting looked to the golem. “How does that make any sense?”
“I don’t know, and neither did the ponies who made me!”
The game lasted like this, winning and losing around until it was an almost a repeat of the first round.
“I raise,” Pensword said, casually putting his bits into the pile and bringing the pot up to eighty eight bits total. He looked to Crys-trap. Salt had been eliminated from the play earlier in the match. Heavy had folded.
“You think you can get away with this? I’m going all in, baby!” Crys-trap called out, putting twenty two bits into the pot. The pot now stood at one hundred thirty three bits.
Pensword smiled as he matched the bet. It was now one hundred fifty five bits in the pot. “I call,” he answered as the two players flipped and showed their hands. Pensword’s hand revealed the ace of spades, king of spades, queen of spades, jack of spades, and the ten of spades: a royal flush. The smile grew larger after revealing his hand.
“What?” Crys-trap shrieked. Of course you’d win with those cards. Even Steve can win with those cards! And all he can ever say is ‘Hey-o’!”
“Hey-o!”
“Shut up Steve!” Crys-trap yelled to the stallion in the back.
Pensword felt that somewhere in his belly he should be worried, but he shook it off. “Well, this was fun.”
“How did you get so good at poker?” Salt Sting exclaimed as the other sailors snickered behind his back. His long reign as head of the table had finally been ended.
Pensword gave a wing shrug. “My secret. You might have to battle me again during the trip to get it.”
“But … you wiped me clean!”
“You said you were a good player.” He took a small stack of fifty bits. “Here, make that grow for the next game.” With that done, Cosy immediately raced up and grabbed Pensword by his legs.
“I knew you’d win, Pensword,” he cheered.
Pensword gave a long-suffering look as he stared up at the deck. “Yeah, well, it was fun,” he admitted, deadpanning. He didn’t know what to do with all the winnings, especially since it was given for the express purpose to gamble and lose. For now, he placed them in his coin bag and pondered the inevitable future of continued gambling, where to win is to lose, and to lose is to lose more. “... I think I’m going to bed,” he said finally as he slowly made his way out. Cosy followed closely behind.
Vital ran his hoof through his now shortened mane as it jutted out to the sides, appearing much less like a certain pony he would rather not name. The Royal Mane Stylist looked happily after his customer, waving at the pair of friends as they left.
“Don’t be strangers!” he cried before returning to his shop.
Vital smiled. “Man, I am so glad I finally got rid of that haircut. Don’t get me wrong, I love having a full head of hair again, but do you have any idea how many cards I got from nobles wanting to introduce me to Blueblood?” He shuddered. “I didn’t watch that much of the show before I got here, but even I knew how much of a pompous jerk he was.”
“I’m sure you’d learn more on it from myself or anyone outside of Canterlot,” Hammer Strike responded. “Now come on, it’s time to head back to New Unity.”
“Good. I admit I’m not exactly looking forward to more work, but I’m not about to let myself slack. Black Rook would murder me if I did.”
“Nah, too easy.”
“You know what I meant, Hammer Strike. Speaking of which, once we get back, you need to help me pick up on my weapons lessons too.”
“I need practice myself, so yeah, I can teach you while I practice again,” Hammer replied.
“Just try not to break any bones, alright?” Vital winced.
“No promises.”
“... Great.” As the pair arrived at Canterlot Station, they casually walked past a group of fangirls lined up along the sides of the entry grate.
“Oh my goodness, there he is!” One of the mares screamed as the others followed as they held out massive “I <3 Blueblood” signs and plushies. Vital Spark groaned and face hoofed.
“Seriously? Do I really look that much like him?”
“Question, why are you all holding up burning signs?” Hammer questioned.
The girls’ fangirl squeals quickly turned to screams as they stamped out the fires on their signs and the pair passed through without further issue.
“Does he seriously have that many female admirers?” Vital asked, disgusted.
Hammer Strike simply nodded.
“If he comes to Ponyville to try and congratulate me on style choice, I swear I don’t know what my magic may do to him.”
“You’ll have more control by that point. Blueblood doesn’t enjoy time outside of Canterlot.”
“Then why all the fangirls? Doesn’t that mean he’s likely to make a visit?”
“Ponies are hopeful, especially fans.”
“I’m guessing you’re glad Rarity’s not numbered among them anymore,” Vital said, smirking as they stepped onto the carriage.
“Mhmm,” Hammer hummed.
“You like her, don’t you?”
“Obviously.”
“Maybe to you. It’s kind of hard for me to tell when you’re always so … monotone, I guess. You hardly ever crack a smile.” The Unicorn jerked forward a moment as the steam engine started up before righting himself again.
“Emotion isn’t a strong thing for me,” Hammer replied.
“Clearly. You’re going to need to work on that, you know,” Conor said. “We’ll call it an even trade. You train me on weapons, and I get to help you show a little more emotion in life. Deal?”
“Too high of a price. How about a thousand bits instead?” Hammer countered in his usual monotone.
Vital face-hoofed. “We have a lot of work to do.”
“Good luck. Many have tried.”
“What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t?” Vital asked as he lay back in his seat. “Alright, Shawn, first lesson: Humor me.”
“Sorry, I lost my humor years ago.”
“Then crystalize some and absorb it, buster. I want to be laughing, or at the very least, chuckling by the time we reach Ponyville. No excuses.”
“You’re setting some high hopes.”
“What do you think brought you back from the dead in the first place?”
“A crystal created from a power source of purity that I doubt you would tell me who or what gave it to you, even if I asked.”
Vital face hoofed, then chuckled. “We got a lot of work ahead of us alright.”
“So I was wondering, why did this stone keep getting bigger? And then it hit me,” Pensword said as he sat with the Crystal ponies in the hold of the ship. He was waiting for the ship to finish docking. “Still wondering why they asked me not to be on deck while they dock.”
“They don’t want to cause a riot when a bunch of crystal ponies and The Demon show up,” Grif’s voice spoke out from a spot that Pensword swore he hadn’t been standing in.
“Grif, what? Why did--do you have to use that cloak around me?” Pensword asked, his wing slowly retracting again. “I nearly hit you, you know.”
“It’s better you get used to it,” Grif said. “I’m going to be wearing it pretty much till Gryphelhiem. Speaking of which, you should pass those black cloaks out to the crystal guards now.”
Pensword nodded as he moved to a crate and opened it up. “Here you are. Please put these on while you are in the Gryphon Lands and keep them on as long as your crystal coats last,” he said as he began to hand out the cloaks.
“Bellacosa?” Grif called for the colt.
The colt looked up from his position. “Yes?” he looked eager, wondering what Grif might have for him.
“You’ve been learning with me every day this week,” Grif said as he handed the colt a switchblade. “Don’t draw it unless you have no other options, got it?”
“Yes, sir,” Cosy said, giving a firm salute as he slid the blade through his breastplate’s opening between the padding and the metal.
Pensword fought to keep a smile off his muzzle. “Cosy, when do you want me to give back the money you lent me for the week?”
“You keep it for now. It’s safer with you anyways, and you know how to keep it out of sight,” Cosy said. “Grif said any money showing is dangerous, right, Grif?” Grif nodded in affirmation.
“Very well, Cosy,” Pensword answered. “Still, now we just wait. Wait till the cargo is finished unloading. Then we follow Grif’s lead.” Pensword looked nervous at having to follow orders again.
“Just stay quiet and keep your heads down. Let Cheshire do the talking,” Grif said.
“Fine.” Pensword huffed with a growl. He smiled and put a hoof on Cosy’s head. “I get to spend time with one of my favorite survivors.” His left eye twitched as the screams of ponies filled his ears once again: the memories of sacrifices long since past.
“Pensword, no P.T.S.D.!” Grif said, swatting the pony's head. “We need to concentrate.” Pensword shook his head.
“I ... will do my best,” Pensword answered, “Still, I will follow your lead.”
The sun was setting before they received clearance to disembark. The company moved cautiously off the ship with the cloaked figures in the center. Around them, sailors of various breeds and species worked on setting their ships either to stay in port or to disembark the next day. Other sailors could be seen around nearby taverns, stumbling drunkenly. The composition was varied, but Gryphons stood out as the obvious majority around them.
“We should try to get out of this town and camp by the road a mile or so down,” Grif said. “Chesire will take care of papers and tariffs and anything else to be negotiated.”
Pensword nodded his head, but Grif could tell he was still tense. Too many Gryphons. The sooner they got out of town, the better. The Thestrals formed their own protective middle ring, granting yet another layer of protection to the young prince.
“Deep breath. Don’t give them the satisfaction,” Grif mumbled under his breath.
Pensword took a deep breath. In and out. He repeated the exercise several times. When he had calmed down enough, he turned to address Grif. “Very well.” His left wing twitched, but he ignored it, doing his best to focus on getting safely out of town. “Lead the way.”
The steam engine huffed to a halt as the doors swung open, giving time for each of the passengers to get out. Vital smiled as he stepped into the sun. “It’s good to be back in Ponyville.” Four pony guards stood at attention as Hammer Strike stepped out with Rarity behind him.
“Since when do the guards send an escort for you, Hammer Strike?” Vital Spark asked as he turned to face the lord.
“Either when the Shields get worried, or if someone wants my attention to something,” Hammer replied as he looked to the guards. “So, which one of the two is it?”
“The latter, sir. Me-Me’s sent delegates to the castle asking for your immediate arrival as soon as you get back,” one of the guards said.
“Alright then,” Hammer looked to Vital for a moment. “Any specifications on if anyone else can come along?”
“No, sir. They merely said it was urgent.”
“Well then, Vital, you can either come with me, or go back to New Unity,” Hammer said. “Your choice.”
“Mutatio told me he wanted Me-Me to meet me.” Vital shrugged. “I guess now she’ll get the chance. Does Rarity want to come too?”
“Oh, um … sorry, dear, but I’m afraid I’ll have to take a rain check. I have all this luggage to unpack, you see, and besides that, I must be positively swamped with orders now that I’m back. Not to mention I need to check up on Sweetie Belle,” she said. “How about we get together later though? I have so many new fashions I want to try on you now.” Vital groaned. “Grif did recommend that I give you a makeover, didn’t he?” Rarity asked sweetly.
Rarity giggled. “It’s a deal. See you later, darlings. Tata.” And with that, Rarity Belle left the station, her luggage floating behind in her magical grip as she skillfully maneuvered it above and around the passengers.
“Dang she’s good,” Vital said.
“Let’s get going then,” Hammer said. “He did say immediate attention.”
The changeling hive was as active as ever. The gardens had come a long ways and blossomed sweetly with a variety of benches and decorative statues and fountains. Long white gravel paths meandered through the display as hedges trimmed to form lovers, families, and other poses and subjects flourishing amongst the various flowers. “Tenders” continued to work on the garden’s upkeep while families and young lovers walked the paths together, occasionally stealing a secret kiss amongst some of the higher hedges as the setting sun’s rays lit up the sky. Beneath the grand entrance, the two were brought through a series of tunnels to reach the Queen’s main chambers where Mutatio and Me-Me sat waiting for them.
“My Queen,” Mutatio began, looking surprised that another Unicorn was with Hammer Strike. “I did not expect Hammer Strike to have company.” He bowed his head, looking nervous. “I am Mutatio of the Everfree Hive. Our Hive’s liege is the noble who stands beside you. We are the first banner under House Strike.”
“Good evening, Lord Hammer Strike.” Me-Me politely nodded her head. In the darkness they called his emotions, a faint color stirred at the mention of his title: teal for annoyance.
“Hello, Me-Me. I see things have been getting better around here,” Hammer replied.
“With your generosity, we have been able to expand our home quite well. Our collectors are coming back with a bumper crop and all my children are well fed.”
“That is wonderful to hear,” Hammer Strike said, nodding his head. “I’m sorry if you wanted just me to show up; I brought a friend: Vital Spark.”
“Hi.” Vital waved his hoof timidly. “Actually, Mutatio and I have already met.”
“We have?” he paused before making an O shape with his mouth. “You are that human. Wow. The princesses worked fast in hiding you. I guess they do not think the world is ready for humans.”
“On the contrary. My form was a necessity. I was trapped in a form between Unicorn and human. The princesses merely provided the spell necessary to make it so that I could shift between forms, rather than being trapped in the middle. Were I to return home looking like that, there are some questions as to my safety that would have arisen.”
Mutatio looked to Hammer Strike. “Does he answer like that to every question?” He gave a weary look at the pony. “There are ponies here that could use that against you. My advice, give as little information as you can till you trust those around you.”
“Are you saying you two aren’t trustworthy?” Vital asked.
“Changelings are rarely trustworthy,” Me-Me smiled. “But you have nothing to fear from us. Mutatio is simply still not used to the freedom we have given our hive to operate.”
“You almost killed me before the Founder freed you,” Mutatio responded in a teasing tone of voice.
“And you almost killed the founder, and the protector, and Lord hammerstrike,” Me-Me sent back.
He frowned. “It is so hard learning how to be a proper tease,” He muttered.
“I hate to break things up, but the way I was told things, you had something that required my immediate attention?” Hammer questioned.
“Did Pensword inform you of our discovery?” Me-Me asked.
“What discovery?”
“I see that he did not. Please follow me,” Me-Me said, getting to her hooves and heading for a tunnel. “My drones discovered something weeks ago and we have been attempting to excavate it ever since.”
“What is it?” Vital Spark asked as they walked down the corridors.
“We have yet to make a positive identification, but Pensword was able to identify a symbol that seemed to indicate it was some sort of medical device.”
“A medical device?” Hammer questioned before humming in thought. “I’m very curious now.”
“That is what the Founder thought. He was worried about it being dangerous, but we do not see why,” Mutatio responded.
Fifteen minutes of tunnel crawling later they came to the device. The large black box was now much more revealed to the world, though still partially covered in dirt. The red cross was clearly visible; however, the writing made no more sense to Hammer Strike than it had to anyone else.
“So, any ideas how to get in?” Vital asked as he peered at the cube.
“No clue,” Mutatio responded. We think we finally got to the base, but so far, it is sealed shut.”
“Any possible points of entry? Areas that look different?” Hammer Strike asked.
“Other than the inscription and the cross,” Me-Me said, gesturing to it, “we haven’t found anything.”
Hammer hummed. “Mind if I investigate?”
Mutatio looked to Me-Me as if holding a private conversation. “We do not mind,” he answered finally.
Hammer Strike moved forward, his eyes trailing across the wall, the text, and the cross, noting layers of material coating it: stone, dust, minerals, an aged handprint…
Hammer Strike paused, his eyes flicking towards the others.
“Your aura tastes of music,” Me-Me ventured towards vital spark. “Do you play?”
“A little. Mostly the violin. I do know some basic piano, and you’ve already heard my voice,” Vital said. “Unless you left before that part in Grif’s wedding.”
“I am sorry. I slipped out to avoid unwanted attention,” she said.
“Well that’s alright. Mutatio said you would want to meet with me, though. Any idea why?”
Hammer looked back to the handprint. It was obviously human. Minotaur hands were bigger, not to mention they only had four fingers, not five. In the distraction of the polite conversation, he brought a hoof up and wiped at the handprint with his coat, clearing it. ‘It will only bring paranoia and worry,’ he thought. As he wiped though, a segment of the wall sunk in with a click and a faint whirring noise started up.
“W-w-Welco-come, User,” A voice called out, robotic in nature. Hammer Strike’s eyes widened in wonder.
Me-Me’s head shot towards the box.
“Um … Hammer Strike … what did you do?” Vital asked.
Mutatio paused. “But the Founder said not to touch anything! Why did you touch it?”
“You said nothing on not touching it,” Hammer replied.
“But is it not common knowledge not to touch unknown technology?” Mutatio answered.
“W-Warning, power levels Crit-t-tically low. Disabling systems unt-t-t-till refueling or emergenc-cy override key is used. Please have a s-s-safe and productive da-a-ay.” The voice called out once more, the end of its speech slowing as it lowered in pitch until silence returned, the whirring ceasing.
“Well, at least we know it works, whatever it is,” Vital said.
“To finish that conversation, Mutatio, they say not to touch anything unknown due to fear of it causing harm to you,” Hammer replied.
“But you are unable to be harmed, you are the Undying. I killed you myself, I thought. What about those of us not like you? Could it not kill those around you?” Mutatio asked as, for the first time, genuine fear laced his voice.
“You had enough distance for any form of heat to take time. If it were to shift and reveal hostile intent you had enough space between you and it to leave the area quickly, and electrical currents wouldn’t conduct far enough to reach you,” Hammer Strike listed. “I may seem reckless, but I still keep others in mind.”
“From what the others have told me, Mutatio, Hammer’s one of the best ponies you could have for a friend. He won’t let any harm come to anyone if he can help it. Well, except for his enemies of course,” Vital said
All the changelings shuddered at the mention of being enemies to the legendary lord.
“If you think it would be bad now, you should have seen what happened to a specific fortress during the Third Gryphon War,” Hammer commented as he walked back towards the group.
“Two days and we still haven’t found a place to camp,” Grif grumbled next to Pensword. As it had turned out, the land outside the city had belonged to an influential clan and they had not wanted anyone camping on their territory. Over the last two days, they had moved further and further inland seeking somewhere they could rest and prepare. They had met with the representatives of over a dozen clan lords and been kicked off their land, either politely or impolitely. The collective guard were now dog tired from the constant march and Bellacosa was now lying doggedly on Pensword’s back, completely drained for the third time in two days.
“We won’t last much longer like this,” Grif said.
“I know I can handle this,” Pensword muttered, looking back at the others, then to Cosy. “The others, not so much. Surely Gryphons should have known about taverns? They could make a profit there,” Pensword said irritably.
“Taverns are for port cities to trap sailors into drinking away their profits,” Grif said. “Most clans brew their own alcohol here and they keep those recipes secret to a paranoid degree. An inn represents a liability as well because that would give strangers a chance to spy on the clans and learn weaknesses,” Grif explained.
Pensword sighed. “And I was called paranoid,” he muttered, shaking his mane. “Still, I really hope we can find some place to settle soon. This feels like Europe; all the land is claimed,” he said, switching to draconic at the end.
Cosy moved on Pensword’s back. “I’m tired of marching. I wanna sleep.” He yawned loudly, tears standing out in his eyes as he struggled to hold them back. He couldn’t afford to show weakness in Gryphon lands; that’s what Grif had said.
“We’ll find somewhere,” Grif said, adding unfelt enthusiasm to his voice “I bet we’ll find a place right around the--.” Grif was cut off by a screech from one of the forward scouts. “Armed soldiers on their way.” Grif looked to Pensword as he drew his swords and moved for the front of the group. “Keep him safe.”
Pensword moved his wings out as two Thestrals removed the cloth covering his wing blades. They had been dipped in his own blood for the purpose of realism to make him appear wounded, just in case. He just didn’t know how well it might actually work. He dropped Cosy between the guards to watch him. “Stay here,” he ordered.
“But--”
“No buts. Stay,” Pensword ordered, his look stern. Cosy let out a defeated sigh as he did what he was told. He was too tired to argue anyways.
Grif and Pensword reached the front at the same time as Chesire and Kel’leam. True to the scout’s word, several heavily armed Gryphons were flying towards them in a box formation. In the center, one Gryphon flew towards them wearing an intricate steel plate mail. The standard one of the soldiers carried caused Grif’s body to instantly stiffen.
Noticing his friend’s reaction, Pensword subtly shifted his stance, preparing for a swift attack if necessary. He would fight at Grif’s side to the death if need be. His eyes narrowed as the formation approached.
The Gryphons landed in front of them and the center line parted, revealing the intricately armored central figure: a black raven-like Gryphon, much like Grif himself. However, rather than the green cover of feathers Grif had on his breast and crest, this Gryphon’s fur and coat were black with flecks of light blue appearing in random places.
“Presenting the Lord of Clan Far Flyer, Lord Garrus Ryan Ineschtad Flightfighter Farflyer,” one of the guard spoke as the Gryphon approached. Upon hearing the name, Grif’s face became positively livid. Still, he made his approach next to Pensword, doing his best to maintain composure.
“Presenting the Lord of Clan Bladefeather, Lord Grif Grafson Bladefeather,” Chesire spoke in return, her slitted eyes menacing. Clearly something was going on here, but Pensword couldn’t quite make out what.
“Accompanied by Commander Moonkissed Pensword Hurricane of the line of Pen, High Duke of Ys,” a Thestral accompanying Pensword announced. Pensword stood ready to move either in friendly action, or that of warfare. He just nodded in acknowledgement to the Gryphon lord.
The wizened Gryphon stepped forward with piercing gaze as he sized the party up, his dark hazel eyes immediately locked on the metal feather in Grif’s wing.
“So, the rumors are true. The son of Graf comes at last to the land of his father.”
“My father despised these lands and what they stood for,” Grif responded.
“And you carry on his legacy with honor,” Garrus said. “I’m certain he is very proud of what you have accomplished.”
“Please don’t speak as though you or yours knew him or had any claim to him,” Grif growled. “Had it not been for you he would have lived another hundred years.”
“I wasn’t trying to claim him, Grif.” Garrus shook his head. “My grandfather cut him off from the clan for doing something which was viewed dishonorable and abominable. I won’t try to make up for that decision, and I won’t try to justify it. I have come because I guessed at the conditions your men have had to face, and judging by their appearance, my assumptions were correct. No clan has given you shelter or permission to camp on their lands, have they?”
Pensword did not say anything. He just glared and kept his muzzle shut. This was something Grif had to do on his own and he inwardly felt horrible he could only stand and watch.
“My charges are tired, I will not deny it.” Grif sighed, unable to avoid the subject.
“I can’t reverse the ruling my grandfather made, but where he was not willing to help, I am. If you will accept it, I will gladly give your troops and escort whatever they need until they are well rested and ready to move on. It won’t make up for what my grandfather did, I know. But I hope you will accept it all the same. For their sake.”
Grif looked to Pensword. “You are in command here.”
Pensword looked to Grif. “We shall rest, resupply if needed. But we shall stay only as long as thou canst stand.” He fixed the Gryphon clan leader with a hard gaze. “If I find any of your clan members bully or strong taloning any of my troops, you do not want to know what I would do.”
“We will pay for everything,” Grif added sternly. “I won’t be indebted to anyone here.”
“... As you wish. My manor lies three days’ journey to the North. I’ll have my troops bring supplies for you to get you there. When you arrive, you can pay and purchase any other supplies you stand in need of.” He turned to face his troops where they waited on the other side of the line. “I’ll not insult you by offering to have my clansmen escort you. But for what it’s worth, Grif, I am sorry for what happened.” His cape fluttered behind him as he walked back into the fold of his guards. “We’ll be waiting,” he said as he took to the air. The other guards saluted before they followed their lord.
“So, how should I be with this clan? Defcon one or five?” Pensword asked. “Also, I am worried. so far, I have met few Gryphons who seemed to recognize my name and title.”
“He had my name….” Grif said darkly.
“Defcon four then,” Pensword answered. “I will never be unarmed, and I shall wear the logos of the past.”
Conor groaned as he continued to push up, his arms trembling as he struggled to get the final rise. At last he succeeded and let out an explosive gasp as he let his knees drop to support his weight.
“... Did it,” he said, smiling.
“You feel like jelly yet?” Rook asked, handing him a tankard of water.
Conor laughed. “Yes, sir. And I’m ready for more,” he said as he took a swig.
“Taze said that one human exercise was common involving pulling oneself up off the ground, so…” he pointed to a nearby tree. “Let’s try ten pull ups.”
Conor blanched. “... Oh, goodey,” he said as he walked to the tree. Taking hold of the branch, he felt the bark digging into his skin as he prepared to pull, his loose gym clothes helping to keep him cool as a gentle breeze blew through the compound. Gryphons snickered as they walked past, working on building their homes. He stood there, bracing himself for a good minute as he tried to psyche himself up to the most embarrassing and difficult exercise he had ever attempted in his life. Briefly the memories of all his failures in the fitnessgram came back in a whiplash of flashback before he finally just did it.
As Conor expected, his muscles screamed, straining and feeling as if they would pop as he struggled to pull himself above the branch. The bark scraped against his palms and fingers, making them feel raw as he slowly rose above the branch. “One …” he grunted as he slowly let himself back down, his frame shaking almost as much as Pinkie Pie on a sugar rush. He pulled once more, rising about half way before the pain grew nigh unbearable. He locked in place, straining to rise. “Rrgghaaa!” he cried as he pulled himself up the second time before his muscles collapsed and he dropped from the tree like a bad apple in Sweet Apple Acres, panting where he stood on the ground as his arms hung limply at his sides.
“Two. That’s my max for now,” he said.
“Well then, we know where to start,” Rook said. “... I think we’re done with the physical stuff for today. Take a breather and we’ll go to the shooting range?”
“You just said the magic words,” Conor said as a big smile came over his face.
“Glad you enjoy it,” Rook said.
“It’s one of the few things I was relatively good at when I was at school.” Conor shrugged. “That, and it’s just that much fun to shoot at a target.”
The two walked briskly, coming to the large shooting range set up for practice. Several large bales of hay with targets were leaned against one of the walls. Across the way, next to the firing line to enter the range, a rack of different ranged weapons and their required ammunition sat waiting for use in training.
“Permission to enter the range?” Conor asked as they approached the line. Range Master, the archery instructor smiled at the pair. A massive target with an arrow sticking out of it adorned his flank.
“Permission granted,” he said as the two crossed the line to join him. “Ready for another volley, kid?” he asked, chuckling.
“You know it,” Conor said, his eyes lighting up.
“Black Rook,” Range said, nodding in acknowledgement to Grif’s second in command.
“Range Master.” Rook nodded in return. “As you know, I’m here to supervise Conor’s training.”
A sharp whistle caused the group to pause. Looking over they saw Shawn walking towards them. “Hold on a moment.”
“Hey, Shawn!” Conor grinned as he waved at his friend. “Come to join us for a couple of rounds?”
“Actually, I’m here to change your training a bit,” Shawn said as he reached into his coat and pulled out a new flintlock pistol. “Finished it awhile ago.”
“Sweet!” Conor said, taking the proffered weapon from him.
“If you want something special on it or just want the thing to look less plain, tell me later and I’ll figure something out then. For now, I’d prefer if you got some training with it first.”
Conor’s smile turned into a grin. “Shawn, you just made my day.”
“Good, now make mine by using it properly, or you lose it,” Shawn said as he reached into his coat and held out a hard leather pouch to him. Its treated walls were a good quarter inch thick. Opening the lid, Conor found a large supply of old fashioned cartridges: essentially packets of paper wrapped up and filled with gunpowder.
“Oh, it’s one of those types of loading systems? I haven’t seen a gun like that since Scout Camp years ago.”
“I’d prefer not to have semi automatic weaponry available.”
“No problem, boss,” Conor said in a cheesey Brooklyn accent. He tore open the packet with his teeth like he remembered being taught and proceeded to empty it into the barrel, tamping it down with the ram rod. “Alright, where’s the blasting cap?”
“Don’t need it. An easy modification was made so you don’t need them.”
“Is that so? Huh. Convenient.” He turned to face the target on the range. “Permission to fire, Range Master?”
“Clear on the Range!” Range Master shouted as the ponies that were collecting bolts and shafts raced from the site. “Archers, take your positions!” he shouted. The ponies and human stood at the firing line. “Archers at the ready!” They picked up their bows and Conor raised the flintlock. “Nock your arrows!” They proceeded to do so as Conor cocked the hammer. “Aim and fire!”
Conor closed his left eye as he gazed down the target range, his improved vision making it far easier to pick out the bullseye. In a matter of seconds, the gun retorted as the sound of metal striking stone pinged through the range. A puff of dust flew from the wall a good foot outside the target. “Crap,” he swore.
“Keep both eyes open, Conor. This isn’t a rifle.”
Conor sighed. “Alright, Shawn.” He took out another cartridge and proceeded to prepare it the same way he had before, carefully and deliberately as he tapped it back down. Cocking the pistol once again, he waited with baited breath for Range Master’s approval. The Pegasus nodded his head as Conor took a deep breath, slowly exhaled, and shot. This time the shot landed on the target. It was the outer ring, but at least it hit the mark.
“Well, at least it’s better,” Conor said.
“You’ll figure it out as you use it,” Shawn told him. “You know the rules of a firearm. Keep them in mind and I have no problem with you keeping this on you.” With that said, Shawn reached into his coat, undoing something before pulling out a holster with adjustable straps and held it out for Conor to take.
Conor nodded. “Thanks. I’ll do my best to practice with it regularly.” With that, he loaded and prepared to fire again.
“Sir,” Black Rook whispered as Conor continued to practice. “This one isn’t like the three of you. He isn’t a warrior.”
“Even though he isn’t, he still needs to stay fit and practice fighting,” Shawn replied. “He’s going to be pulled into some battle some day. It’s just the way things work around here.”
“I hope we can keep him off the front lines,” Rook said. “We knew what we were getting into. He doesn’t.”
“You might not be giving him enough credit. Trust me though, he knows what’s bound to happen,” Shawn said as he leaned against the back wall, his eyes still on Conor.
“I’ll trust your judgement,” Rook said. “I just get this feeling like something’s wrong.”
“Well, would you look at that?” Shawn commented.
“What is it, sir?” Rook looked around curiously.
Shawn reached into his coat, quickly pulling out a knife as he brought his arm to his right, stabbing it through a pony’s neck. Said pony was also holding a knife which glinted an unhealthy green. There was a flash of green fire and the changeling was revealed to them. “We’re being infiltrated.”
The nearby guards all caught the commotion immediately. The instinct to panic reigned for all of a moment before being overtaken by months of conditioning. “Everyone, back towards the changeling lanterns,” Rook ordered as the groups made a swift, but orderly retreat towards the fort. Other ponies stayed back as their disguises melted away, their glares venomous.
“Rook, inform Blast and Tower Shield of this and tell them to put the guard on alert, would you?” Shawn asked calmly.
“Sir.” Rook saluted before heading towards the fort himself.
“Thanks. Conor, let’s go. Follow me.”
Conor immediately gathered the pistol and box as he hastily made his way to Shawn.
As the two made their way towards the castle, Shawn glanced at his sleeve. “Damn it.”
“What’s wrong?” Conor asked.
“He got blood on my coat.”
Grif halted the march about half a mile from the designated location. They stood on a large, grassy plain not far from a set of cliffs. Visible from this distance were several large buildings standing outside the rocky face. The cliffs themselves stood with what looked like generations of carvings in the intricate detail, flashing in the setting sun before the buildings of the compound.
A five-story, solid wooden doorway was carved into the cliff face under a massive coat of arms. On either side of the coat of arms, different faces were carved, each a separate mixture of cat and bird features detailing the past leaders of House Farflyer.
“Have everyone set up camp here,” Grif said, looking to Pensword and Chesire. “It will give us a decent exit strategy should we need it. Have hunting parties drawn up, but don’t kill any more then we strictly need.”
Pensword nodded. He decided not to salute under the circumstances. This reminded him all too much of the Gryphon War. “I understand.” He turned around to face the troops. “Canterlot Regulars, form up and begin to set up the tents. Midnight Killer, help the Regulars pitch in an orderly manner. Cheshire, you form up the hunting parties since you know the laws of the land best.” With those orders given, he marched into the Thestral group. “As for you Dream Clan, we will help set up the inner tent compound.”
Nobody had acted and a few seemed to be falling asleep on their hooves. “Well, MOVE!” Pensword shouted, sending ponies and Gryphons alike falling over before they scattered, the ponies scrambling as the Gryphons shifted in an orderly manner.
“Bellacosa!” Grif called.
“Yes, Grif?” the Crystal Prince trotted up to the clan leader, beaming.
“Get on,” Grif said, lowering himself to the ground.
Bellacosa’s eyes went wide with excitement. “Okay. This is going to be fun.” He giggled as he climbed onto Grif’s back. “Are we going to the cliff? I bet Daring Do would enjoy this.” Grif raised his eyebrow. “It was sent by some Publisher as a means to get us caught up. I love the book series.”
“Yeah.” Grif chuckled before gulping as he looked to the door. “Fun.” He sighed before heading forward. A short time later, the pair were Walking through the Far Flyer compound. Grif received a largely mixed reaction. Some glared, others smiled nervously, others ignored his presence entirely, some hid, and the list went on. Grif did his best to concentrate on the path ahead instead of the gawking stares.
“Grif, why’s everypony acting so quiet?” Cosy asked. Unlike the rest of the escort, he was relatively rested thanks to a power nap on Pensword’s back, and thus more able to take in the sights.
“Some of them are scared, some of them aren't sure how to react with the things I’ve had to do in the past. Some of them feel a Gryphon who chose to side with ponies shouldn’t be welcomed here. Others fear a reckoning will come because they know what these blades I wear mean.”
“What do they mean?”
“Did your mother teach you about Faust?” Grif asked as a young Gryphon cub looked curiously through a window.
“Yes. Faust is our creator, right? The goddess of this world.”
“Yes, but she also still watches over ponies and protects them. Gryphons,” he sighed. “Gryphons made her very mad after she created us and she left us alone. We were adopted by other deities called The Winds, but they were taken from us by some bad people and put in a place where they can’t protect us anymore. Then, many years ago, one Gryphon was chosen to do what they wanted done on our world. He wielded these swords to accomplish the task. When I got these swords I also was given his job.”
“So you’re kinda like a prophet?” Cosy asked as he shifted his helm to scratch his head. “Or a knight?”
“A little bit like the latter. A prophet receives his orders from his or her deity or deities directly. I’m more expected to accomplish their will by some action I will do. We call the person who does this the ‘Avatar of Winds.’ An avatar is sort of like a person who acts with the authority of someone greater.”
“So you’re sort of like a diplomat for the gods?”
“Thats a good way to put it.”
A Gryphon cub poked its head from behind a rock and stared at the two. “Are you really the Avatar? Is Clan Leader going to re-adopt you? And why’s there a tiny pony on your back?” The cub asked in Phrench.
Cosy cocked his head. “What’s he saying?”
Grif chuckled “He wants to know why there is a tiny pony on my back,” Grif told him as the chuckle grew to laughter.
“Oh. Should we tell him who I am, or do I need to keep that a secret?”
“He’s a crystal pony who wanted to know what Gryphons lived like,” Grif told the cub after telling Bellacosa what he would say. Cosy smiled and waved from where he sat and the cub giggled.
“He’s funny,” the fledgling said.
“You’re a brave one,” Grif said. “You’ll be a strong warrior someday.” He patted the cub on the head. “I cannot answer your questions today, unfortunately. Go home to your parents and let the wind always be with you.”
The fledgling smiled, waved, then ran off. “Bye bye, Avatar!” he cheered, smiling as he took flight, wobbling a little before he corrected himself and banked around an alleyway.
Grif continued forward. At last the pair reached the massive doors. He stopped and looked up. The polished wood seemed large and intimidating like all those forts he had visited back before the war. Taking a deep breath, he slammed his fist into the wood several times. “Open. Open in the name of the four winds!”
A loud booming emanated from the doors, combined with the sound of wheels turning as Grif’s ears picked up the heavy beams sliding back on their rails. Slowly and ponderously, the doors swung inwards as a stream of flickering gold widened upon the unusual pair. A dim shadow stood in the light as Grif’s eyes adjusted to the sudden increase.
“Welcome, Grif. My master has been expecting you.” A beautiful White Lion Gryphoness with a Snowy Owl head bowed her head in respect, holding on to a torch. Her feathers were styled in such a way as to form an almost bowl cut appearance for her “hair.” “I am Avalon Farflyer, lady in waiting to the master’s daughter.”
“Uh h- hi.” Grif took a minute to compose himself. “Please ... lead the way.” Cosy giggled from his perch on Grif’s back. He may have been eight, but he’d seen enough of those looks between Uncle Shining and his big sister to know what was happening.
“Of course.” Avalon bowed her head as she turned and slowly made her way down the hall. As she walked past, the warriors manning the gate saluted before shutting the gate once again. The light reflected off of Avalon’s fur, giving her a halo-like aura as her well groomed fur and feathers shone in the halls. “So what brings you to Gryphonia?” she asked. “I thought … well, given your history …” her tail swayed nervously behind her.
“I hated any and all Gryphons and care nothing for our culture?” Grif asked her expectantly.
“More that you’d suffered enough never to want to even see it.”
“Contrary to the stories, it wasn’t out of some vindictive joy that I killed our kind.” Grif told her. “The Gryphons of the Third War were a cancer on our species, killing and eating other sentient races, abusing children, treating females like property.” A shadow passed over Grif’s face as he recalled those dark memories. “But there are many redeemable things about us that make learning more worthwhile,” he said, gesturing to the finely cut stone halls as they traveled.
“At one point this was all solid rock. Where other races would have carved a cave, Gryphons made a palace. The opportunity to learn is something wasted amongst many of our kind, and to be a better warrior one must have part of the mind of a scholar. Besides, I have important things to guard within these borders,” Grif said as he wrapped a wing gently over Bellacosa’s back. It was not enough to hide him, but enough to signal the child was important to him.
“He is young.” Avalon smiled sweetly as she gazed on the prince. “And what is your name, little one?” She asked in flawless Equestrian.
“I’m Cosy,” he said, smiling. “You’re awful pretty.” Cosy brushed her feathers briefly, smiling at the silky feel of them before letting his hoof drop again. Avalon laughed.
“What a sweet little colt. And such a gentleman.” Her tawny gold eyes sparkled as the light played across her smile.
“I must say, Avalon is an unusual name. Has it come along within the last 1000 years or is it from one of the farther kingdoms?” Grif asked.
“It came from the strangest book. My father found it in a bartering camp and took it home as an oddity for our collection. We couldn’t decipher it in its entirety, but when he saw a picture of a beautiful white creature and the island beneath it, he took the letters and asked a Dragon to translate it.”
“Oh, so your branch is a wealthy one?” Grif asked. “I thought the clan usually kept a public library except for select few privileged members.”
Avalon laughed again. “It is from our library. You’d have to see it to believe it. Father used to read the books to me all the time. Master Garrus makes all of his works public for us to enjoy.”
“So Garrus really is different from past clan leaders?” Grif asked her before catching himself. “You don’t have to answer that. That was insensitive, trying to make you forego your loyalty.”
“The Farflyer clan is still one of the most respected and feared clans in Gryphonia. Admittedly, it took a few hundred years before things changed for the better. Unfortunately, as I’m sure you’re aware, we can be fairly hardheaded about certain things. There are still many lords today who try to keep to the old ways.”
“It is a trait I hope I wIll be able to keep my children from picking up,” Grif noted. “It seems to be a flaw of our race, though ponies aren't much better. Perhaps the Zebras will teach us all humility.” He chuckled dryly. “So, have you served your lady since birth or were you recently appointed to the task?”
“I have been the lady’s friend all my life. She hardly even thinks of me as a servant. I’m very fortunate to have her for my mistress.” Avalon smiled fondly. “You mentioned children, Avatar. Does that mean you’re married, then?”
“Once, yes,” Grif said. “And please, use my name. I do not deserve such respect. But yes, I have my wife back home, and a betrothed. But as you know, a clan leader is expected to find more wives yet.”
“Naturally. Though with a warrior of your standing, I must admit I’m rather surprised you don’t have a larger pride already. I would think every eligible Gryphoness in Equestria must have been throwing herself at your feet.”
“I have had a few, but I am not looking for status, or riches, or someone to warm my bed. If I cannot love the Gryphoness in question, I will not put both of us in a situation like that.”
“A romantic warrior. How intriguing. I must say I admire your strength and integrity. It takes a great deal of courage to reject a Gryphoness if she really wants something.”
“You do me far too much credit,” Grif laughed. “But it is good to see I am against the norm. I take it you meet a lot of clan heads?”
“I have met a few in my time, though most of them have been cordial and well mannered. It’s their subordinates you have to watch out for.” She smirked. “Let’s just say they learned I am more than a match if I don’t give permission.”
“I imagine your father must have hoards of eligible males vying for the right to be your mate.”
She chuckled. “I’m afraid not. My father was a very prolific Gryphon in his younger days, and my mother was just as vigorous. I am one of ten girls and seven boys: the youngest of the lot.”
“A tough position to be in from what I hear: favored, but easily overlooked.” Grif said as they passed through yet another vaulted chamber where the pathways intersected. The shadows danced ominously on the edge of his vision, but the staunch guards showed no signs of aggression. “But that doesn't help but imply that many males are just as stupid as they are prideful.”
Avalon breathed sharply, then sneezed, covering her beak with her free hand to hide the blush.
They finally made it to a door where Avalon stopped before indicating this was were they would meet her master. “Listen, this is hard to say given my history with your clan, but if you are not adverse to the idea, I’d … like to meet with you again before we leave. All you need to do is ask anyone in the camp and they would take you to me,” Grif said as he fished something from his bags. He presented a large, white serrated tooth to her. “Here. I ... acquired a few of these on the boat ride over. Take it as a sign of my gratitude for the conversation.”
Avalon’s eyes widened as she took the tooth gingerly from the male before her. “... I think I might be able to get some time,” she said, flustered. “I’ll have a talk with the mistress and see what she has to say.” She cradled the tooth, examining the light as it reflected off the edges. Then she nodded to the guards flanking the entryway and they opened the doors. “U-until we meet again, Grif,” Avalon said.
He reached out and took her talons in his own, raising them up even as he bent his beak downwards and kissed them gently. “Adieu, Avalon,” he said before turning to the open doors and the room that lay beyond. Avalon flushed as she brought her talons to her cheek, still clutching the gift. With little warning, she fluttered her wings and flew down the hall as fast as they would carry her.
Grif stood in the lord’s study, his hands curling idly as he moved inside, thankful for the stilettos at his sides and the swords on his back. he bent to the floor and allowed Bellacosa to disembark.
Bellacosa slowly got off Grif’s back and stood still, waiting for the inevitable exchange. He rolled his eyes, resigned to the fact he wouldn’t understand a word to be said.
“Lord Farflyer.” Grif bowed his head respectfully as they approached. “I’d bid you to lower your beak in the presence of a royal.” Cosy jolted in surprise. Grif had used Equestrian.
Garrus sat at his desk, his talons tented over a large tome as he gazed at his guests. He slowly rose from his chair, its legs screeching against the stone as he rounded the corner and approached the prince. “So, this is the prince I’ve heard so much about.” He finally arrived in front of the young Unicorn and bowed his head low to the ground. “I commend you, young one. It is not very often one of your race can face the things which you have and live.”
“Um … thanks,” Cosy said awkwardly as Garrus rose from his bow.
“You need not be so nervous, your highness. Here in Gryphonia, that is often viewed as a sign of weakness. Be careful to control your body language. The kings in this land will look for anything they can use against you and your empire.” With that said, he turned to face Grif. “I thank you for gracing my home with your presence, Grif. It is an honor to have you within our walls.”
“My men need the rest,” Grif replied, stone faced. “I will not let my troops or my family suffer if I can avoid it.”
“A true sign of a leader.” Garrus nodded in respect. “It’s no wonder the winds chose you.”
“I will keep an account of the game we hunt and the wood we take,” Grif said tersely. “We will repay every beak owed.”
Garrus sighed. “If that is what you wish.”
“Your people have nothing to fear from me. Perhaps you should make that known to them. They seem scared of me.”
“I will do so gladly. More than a few of the younglings have wanted to meet you since they heard you were coming.” Garrus smiled warmly at the thought. “It’s not every day that you get the chance to meet a legend.” He sighed. “Ah, childhood.”
“Who knows,” Grif said in a scathing tone. “Had things gone differently, perhaps they’d have met an even greater legend today.”
Garrus lowered his neck as he shook his head. In the dim light from the fireplace, he suddenly looked much older than he had at first. Wrinkles spidered out from his eyes like crow's’ feet and the feathers on the crown of his head looked far thinner and translucent compared to the rest of his frame.
“Grif, stop being so mean to Grampa Garrus,” Cosy said, stomping his hoof with a light clack on the stone floor.
“Wha?” Grif was completely taken by surprise by the colt’s sudden words.
“You heard me. He’s trying his best to be nice. He’s letting us stay on his land, and he’s done nothing mean to any of us since we got here. If you don’t stop acting like this, I’ll … I’ll … I’ll order you to stop!”
“Bellacosa, you don’t understand what it was like,” Grif said, trying his best to find solid ground against the crashing wave of the colt’s childish, albeit truthful reason.
“I don’t know what it was like. I don’t know what it was like?” Cosy’s horn ignited, his crystal coat taking on an ominous red glow as his look of childishness turned to a glare that would make even Graf step back.
“You think you’re the only one who lost his family? You think you’re the only one who had to watch someone he loved die in front of his eyes? I had to kill my own guards. I had to run because my own cousin murdered my mother and father in cold blood. And I didn’t get to see justice served either.
“Cosy--” Grif found himself cowed into silence as the young prince bore down on the much taller and much stronger Gryphon.
“Don’t you ever, ever, EVER tell me I can’t understand, Grif!” Cosy yelled, tears swimming in his eyes as he struggled to hold them back. “I didn’t even get to say goodbye. At least you did.” Cosy was heaving, doing his best to control his breathing as he stood before Grif. Everything in the chamber was blurred and distorted. “I … I … I hate you!”
Grif recoiled as if struck by a blow. Cosy turned and stomped to the door, turning to fix Grif with one last glare. He made only one mistake. Closing his eyes to concentrate forced the tears over the edge as they streaked down his crystalline fur. The light focused at the base of his horn before flaring out, filling the room with a bright blue flash. When the light had cleared and the two Gryphons had adjusted, Cosy was gone.
Garrus stared where the prince had once stood. “... That colt could make the very mountains retreat.”
Extended Holiday Ch 61: Your Base is Under Attack Act 8
Pensword stood outside like an angry guard dog as he shoved anyone, even Cosy’s own guards away from the Prince's tent. His ears rang with the order not to be disturbed. He was going to rip Grif a brand new feather cloak when he saw him next. He stood, watching Bellacosa’s lament, his heart breaking at the sobs. After what felt like an age, the sobbing finally petered out. Thirty minutes later, he risked a peek into the tent. Cosy was sleeping curled up on the floor. Pensword walked in and knelt down, kissing Cosy on the forehead. “Sleep well, dear brother of the Crystal War,” he whispered. Then he stood up and exited the tent.
He made a beeline for one of his most trusted Thestrals. “Midnight Killer, guard this tent with your life. Nopony gets past the door, and any Gryphons do not even get to fly overhead.” He barely managed to stop himself from going into the Royal Canterlot Voice. Midnight nodded and immediately took up the post. Pensword took to the air, fully geared for battle as his vision tinted with red. “Now to kick that cowardly lion’s tail.”
He found Grif beside a pond several yards away from the camp. A boulder was balanced on his back paws and two smaller ones were tied to his wings as he attempted to do push ups vertically using only his talons. The look on his face was currently unreadable, but Pensword wasn’t so sure the matted feathers and fur around his head were totally from sweat.
The Pegasus landed with a thud, his wing extended the same way Grif had seen him do in the Third Gryphon war. Any Gryphon who had thrown themselves at his hooves found little mercy. His expression was the same way now as it had been back then.
“I spared your life in the ruins of my home, upon the ground of which my family and friends’ blood soaked, and this is how you repay me after all these years? Sending Cosy back to my tent in tears and anger? Did you not think that he misses his own mother or that he could not understand the pain that pierces thine and mine own heart?” He narrowed his eyes. “Give me one good reason why I should not duel with thee right now.”
“I won’t stop you,” Grif said as he continued his exertions. “Perhaps you’d be doing a favor to everyone. There is money enough for Shrial to live comfortably. Perhaps she will find a far better mate than this useless scrap of feathers. I’ve dishonored you, I’ve dishonored my lord and my family, and worst of all, I did so in the name of my father. So please, do everyone a favor and end it,” Grif said.
As Grif talked, Pensword started to circle him. When Grif had finished his piece, Pensword snorted angrily. “That would be the easy way out,” he growled. “I would like to do that, but my mother would disapprove. So would Gramma.” He shook his head. “No, what you will do is something that would be needed. In one week’s time, you will have your beak bound and Prince Bellacosa will rant and rave at you while you stand there listening to his every single word.” He glared, “You, by far, have to be the dumbest Gryphon I know, but I sure as Tartarus will not anger any beings that find favor with thee.” He shivered as a small whirlwind had surrounded them.
Before he could speak, Grif saw Pensword passing to his other side, grimacing. His eyes softened in their intensity as Matthew took over. “Grif, Grif ...” The Pegasus’ voice, once filled with rage, was sad and worn. “I am sorry. I am so sorry. How did you survive so long? I thought I got this all straightened out and now … I feel like my mind is breaking.”
“I don’t deserve an apology,” Grif said as he kept going, the pure physical effort of each movement straining every muscle in his body to the max.
“Yes, but I crossed a line there. I was just--when Cosy first came back, I thought that somehow the Gryphons had converted you to some dark side or something.” He put a hoof to his forehead and shook it back and forth. “Why did I even come? I am paranoid. I chased two females out of the camp that I did not recognize. I am a mess, as if at any moment, Black Tips will appear to kill me.”
“The gryphons didn’t need to convert me,” Grif said with another strenuous push. “I’m no better than they are. I never was. I thought I had some moral high ground, but in the end I’m as despicable under the skin as the rest of them.”
“No!” Matthew snapped as he flew into Grif’s face. “You are not despicable, you are not worthless, and you are not an idiot, Miss--” he trailed off. “You are not an idiot, Grif. You are smart and kind. Yes, you are flawed, but we all are. You might have moral high ground, but you need to remember just who is in the room. When Cosy comes around, talk to him. I will not follow through with the threats Pensword made, but you still need to stand in front of him. You were chosen to carry those for a reason,” he said, using a wing to point to the Avatar blades. “That has to mean something. They wouldn’t have picked you if you are the monster you keep thinking you are. I may not know much about Gryphons, but I know they want a balanced being and you are balanced.” He turned to look at the moon reflecting on the surface of the valley’s lake. “We are just from a different time period when things were done differently. Hell, I speak rougher at times than I did in the past.” He shivered, fluffing his wings.
“You didn’t see those eyes,” Grif said. “The fear, the hatred ... the disappointment. If I did that to him, what about my kids? What right do I have to be their father if I’m to be a monster?”
“Grif, I saw the eyes,” Matthew said, his voice cracking. “They looked like the ones I saw when I looked into the mirror before marching to Mountainside Falls.” He stared at the lakeshore, absently kicking a stone into the water. “But you are a father, and I know the only monster you will be is to those that mistreat them. I know you will not hurt them because you will know and learn, just as I will learn to be a better father through my experiences with Moon River.” He looked up as his ears flicked.
“We learn as we go, sadly; only going on what we know from our parents treating us, raising us, and if needed, doing what our parents did not do.” He suddenly cut off, his body growing tense as he snapped his head to the left. He dropped his voice to a whisper as he spoke draconic. “Whirlwind just said we have Black Tips surrounding us. Get rid of those stones.” He snapped his wings open as three dark shapes rose over the moon and dove at them. “Why is it that we can never have a heart to heart without a fight?” he asked the wind in frustration as he let Pensword bleed back into his consciousness.
He swirled on the ground, using the blades like an armor to deflect a javelin. At the same time he jumped onto his front hooves, bucking and shattering the beak of one of the diving Gryphons. Blood spurted like a fountain as the assassin sailed up over the water before plummeting into the depths. Pensword spun like a whirling dervish as he sliced neatly through their assailants’ garments, only to hear the fatal clang of steel on steel. Pensword swore. “They learned. They have armor.” He turned around and charged another one. Grif stood up, but did nothing as he held his blades, meaning the black tips were focused more on Pensword, on the Demon. ‘Faust be praised,’ Pensword thought.
The Black Tips stopped suddenly as the moonlight glinted on the ancient blades and for a moment, time seemed to stop as they processed exactly what those swords meant. Taking advantage of the lull, Pensword counted at least seven now. “Grif, you ornery raven, DO SOMETHING! I do not want to be bird food!” He said as he locked blades with two assailants simultaneously, his wings straining against the pressure while a third moved to flank him from behind, skillfully avoiding the Pegasus’ bucks. Still, the left one got a little too sure and found his neck feeling the wing blade’s tip as a spurt of blood flew into the night while he collapsed.
At that, something sparked inside Grif’s mind. The wind around him picked up, growing into a gale in moments before he lifted his head and crowed to the heavens “NEVER MORE!” As he called, a blast of air came from the south, knocking two gryphons from their feet while a third moved to brace himself. “Never more!” Grif crooned as he appeared in front of the gryphon and ran him through. “I will be crass--” in a moment he’d moved to another “--nevermore! I will be cowardly--” he removed her head in a single blow. In an instant, he was behind the two that were rising to their feet, running either through. “--nevermore! Nevermore will I be cruel or short sighted. Let the wind stand as witness when I speak these words. They are my oath and they will be your doom.” He thrust the blades further right past the barb, pulling either gryphon into him. “Never more,” he said venomously as he twisted the blades and pulled back out.
Grif stood before Pensword, a grim specter as his eyes swirled like a typhoon of different shades of blue. The wind whipped around him like an angry viper as blood dripped from the blades.
“Back to the camp. They could be after the others!” Pensword ordered. Taking to the air, his cloak fluttered to the ground in his haste, revealing the armor and emblems he had planned to use to scare Gryphons. He could hear the bells ringing and his mind slipped back to his memories. “To arms! TO ARMS!” He roared, his eyes looking over the camp as he watched the battle raging. He was grateful to see none of his allies dead. He quickly spotted a group trying to get to the back of Cosy’s tent. Dropping like a falcon, he blazed, only to be knocked aside by a Black Tip that had been hiding in a cloud above him. The two began a dog-fight, clawing, biting, and kicking as they tumbled from the sky. The fight came to an abrupt halt with a sickening crunch and the sound of rattling steel. The pair had crashed. Pensword had landed on top of the Black Tip, breaking its back.
Before Pensword could reach the tent, the wind blasted and the Black Tips that were closing in fell to pieces before his eyes. Grif stood in their center, his cloak billowing in the magical breeze that surrounded him. A Black Tip that had snuck up behind Pensword stood dumbstruck at the ease with which his comrades had been dispatched. Pensword quickly decapitated the Gryphon. Before they could move, a horn was blown in three different areas. From every corner, the Farflyers came flying and charging, clashing with the enemy as Garrus tore through the cowards with a bloody mace. A magnificent blue star sapphire mounted to his belt glowed in the flames. The Black Tips were retreating. Pensword quickly moved to the tent, pausing at the flap. “Cosy? Can I now return the money to you?” He waited three seconds and entered the tent. Cosy was dressed in his armor, trembling as he held a sword held aloft in his magic.
Watching the enemy flee, Grif smiled, his body overloading as his energy left him. He knew what was coming. “Ne...ver….. more.” The last word slurred from his beak as he collapsed to the ground.
Pensword exited with Cosy at his side, both seeing Grif out cold on the ground. He sighed. “Cosy, Grif just saved your life,” he said, unsure of how the young prince would react. A few seconds of silence later, he spoke again. “Cosy, let me give you an old warrior’s advice, and this is only advice. You can or cannot follow it; the choice is yours. Do not hold your grudges long. It will be a poison in your life if you do.”
Cosy took in the battle, looking over the carnage and the death as he struggled not to relive the nightmare of the Crystal Empire of old. And there, lying in the middle of it all, bare and bedraggled, lay Grif, the one who had willingly risked his life to save Equestria, the Crystal Empire, and the very world itself with his companions. Was he a meanie? Yes. Did he hurt his feelings? Yes. But what was he going to do about it?
“... I’m going to need some time, Pensword,” Cosy said as stared at Grif. Pensword merely nodded in turn.
Kel’leam walked over to Grif’s unconscious form and, with little effort, picked his leader up and placed him on his back. It took a moment for the crowd to realize Grif wasn’t merely floating in mid-air, but when the large Gryphon’s presence was realized, the armed Gryphons, Farflyers and Bladefeathers alike, formed an aisle, allowing him to carry Grif away from the camp.
Pensword moved, only to find his path blocked. A wall of Gryphons had formed up behind the procession, each eying the Pegasus with a calculating eye. Pensword recognized the movement and stepped back to stand next to Cosy, his eyes roving over the forces that swarmed over the area. He felt tense with all the Gryphons around him.
“We think it will be best if Grif were taken to a more secure location to recover,” Chesire said drolly. “We’re very sorry that the times he’s placed his life on the line for you have not proven his loyalty to you, nor as it seems, gained him your own.” She looked on.
Pensword nodded his head. “I deserve that for how I acted in anger and not loyalty,” he answered his voice diplomatic, but bold. “I was hurt, and acted in a way that I realize now is not befitting the actions of a Commander, nor a friend. If you need me, I shall be in my tent under my own arrest for jeopardizing the mission.”
“Do as you will. We shall attend to our leader.” With that, the small Gryphoness left to follow the rest of the forces.
Pensword nodded, turned around, then paused. A line of Farflyer guards stood before him, blocking his path. He sighed. “Are you here to demand my blood or something? What are you looking at?” He growled, then waited for the guards to address him.
“We are here to be stationed, patrol the area, and make sure any further attacks do not happen.”
Pensword looked at the them, turned his head, and shouted. “Midnight Killer!” A moment later the Thestral in question, wearing his full black armor with bronze medallion, strode into the moonlight. “Midnight Killer is in command for the rest of the night. Follow his orders. I am retiring to my tent so I can clear my head. Hopefully the light of the two sisters will help clear this up in the morning.” With that said, Pensword slowly walked away. He smiled as the Thestral began placing orders and moving the troops, integrating them with ease into relief efforts. Midnight Killer was handling tonight’s events far better than he was, that’s for sure. It seemed that he and the other Dream Clans were acting better around the Gryphons. He sighed as he clopped into his tent. Settling down, his ears perked as he heard two guards take up post by the entrance. A moment later he heard a commotion, but he didn’t care. Not till Cosy walked in holding his little stuffed animal ewe. He looked at Pensword.
“I had a nightmare, and you’re the only one I can trust right now since Grif is … you know.” Pensword sighed and opened an unarmed wing. Cosy trotted in and nestled in next to him. He sobbed into his toy as he trembled next to Pensword’s flanks. Pensword bowed his head, praying his friend would live, not for his sake, but for Cosy’s.
“... Are you sure this is going to work?” Thalia asked as she examined the strange arrowhead from the table in the dank basement. The gates had been shut and sealed and the changelings shifted at the edge of the forest, their black and green coloration blending perfectly with the trees of the Everfree. They had tried multiple aerial attacks until the Gryphons had taken down a good threescore of them with their archery skills. The ponies and Bladefeathers had even made a contest of it. “I mean, I suppose it fits for the crystal ponies and all, but isn’t steel a little more effective?” A rumble of agreement sounded around the room as Griselle, Ganth, Gilda, Thunder Colt, Glamour Horn, and Night Prism all looked on the shafts. These were the best and the brightest from both Bladefeathers and Gryphon Slayers.
Shawn laughed at the question. “This isn’t normal crystal. In fact, only two individuals can make this material: myself and Taze.”
“This is like the crystal he made to break Twilight’s spell, isn’t it?”
Shawn nodded. “Here is what I want you to do. I put a target in the far corner of this room. Take a shot at it with a normal arrow, then one of these,” he gestured the crystal tipped arrows.
Griselle took an ordinary arrow and pulled it back on her bow until the head of the arrow rested in the notch. She took aim and fired, hitting the dummy in the neck. She then repeated the action with one of the crystal tipped arrows, striking the dummy in the chest at the base of the neck.
At the point of impact, a small flash of light burst out for all of half a second. When it cleared, the dummy’s head had fallen to the ground and one of its arms followed. Both were partially destroyed, disintegrated in a way. Griselle stood there, still in firing position, the only change being her beak hanging open in shock.
“I’m trusting you all with these arrows and bolts. Grif and Pensword noted I could trust you all enough for this.” Shawn squinted his eyes slightly. “Do not let my trust be misplaced.”
“We shall not fail thee,” The three Gryphon Slayers responded in a crisp military manner.
The Gryphons nodded grimly.
Shawn glanced back at the table in the room. “As you can see, I also made a few other things. One isn’t in this room, though.” He gestured to the odd looking crossbows. “These crossbows have been modified to hold around eight bolts before you need to reload them. To reload them you just need to push bolts through the top where they are to be loaded normally. With enough force, they will sink in and allow you to load another, or draw the cord into place to fire with it pulling the bolts in reserve up.”
“Useful. We should be able to adapt to these quickly enough.” Thalia took one of the bolts, primed it, and fired at the lower part of the dummy without pause as she slammed the next bolt down like a dealer with a deck of cards, firing subsequently.
“The last physical upgrade that I have here for you are these.” He held his hand out towards the yellow gems. A bright red gem lay through the center with a pin holding a shard of it in place. “Since I never bothered to check, how advanced are grenades in Equestria?”
“You mean the ceramic orbs filled with blasting powder?” Ganth asked.
“Yeah, but instead I’ve done something different. Know how the arrows just cleared the dummy’s body? Same thing will happen with these.” Shawn grinned. “If you know how to use those types of grenades, think along the lines of you pull this pin, and then the countdown begins.”
“How long do we have before detonation?”
“Six seconds.”
Ganth nodded. “Sounds reasonable. What about blast radius?”
“Considering the size of this grenade compared to the tip of those arrows…” He hummed to himself for a moment. “Roughly eight times larger, on a bad day.”
“That’s all we need to know then. What’s the one that isn’t here?” Thalia asked.
“I’ve upgraded the ballistas. They can shoot farther and hit harder, same amount of time to reload.”
“Nice,” Night Prism purred. “Animal Control will love to know that.”
“Good, good. Alright, so now I’ve established the loadout to you all, this is your equipment. When this is over, if you still have some left over you are to return them to me to be locked away,” Shawn told the group. “Do not keep any extra on you.”
“Understood.” The three Gryphon Slayers responded at once.
“Yes, sir,” Thalia saluted.
Shawn raised his brow at the rest of the gryphons.
“Of course,” Ganth said
“That kinda power is far too dangerous to let it lay around,” Giselle agreed.
“Meh, it’s what Grif would want,” Gilda said.
“I won’t abuse this,” kalima said, hefting the grenade. “But you should already know this”
“Alright, to seal the deal though, let me tell you the best part about them.” Shawn gave a dark grin. “I have access to remotely detonate them, so if you hold out…” He looked grimly at them. “I know none of you personally. The only reason I trust you all with this equipment is because of Grif and Pensword. You want to really earn some equipment like this from me, you earn my trust and we’ll get to know each other.”
The ponies and gryphons both nodded, their eyes wide. None would be crossing Shawn if they valued their lives.
“I’ll end on a higher note. All of you here are higher on the list compared to everyone else. Now, let’s go. I want Chrysalis’ changelings out of the Everfree and back to their hives in the Badlands!”
“Goorah!” The Gryphon Slayers responded.
“Gryphons! Who’s like us?” Thalia shouted.
“Damn few, and they're all dead!” the gryphons in the room responded. Grabbing their weapons, they marched.
After all of the group left Shawn hummed to himself in thought. “Should I have warned them about… Nah, I’m sure they’ll figure it out.”
“So this is wonderful,” Chesire said to Kel’leam as she looked on at Grif’s unconscious form. The Gryphons had formed a perimeter around the lake, setting up a makeshift bed where their leader was currently recovering. “Not in the empire for a week and already we got possible hostiles from all sides.”
“We can’t afford hostilities.” Kel’leam sighed. Chesire was the only person who always seemed able to tell he was there. “With support, the twenty of us would be enough, but now our support may end up being our enemy.”
“Worse yet, we can’t tell what's wrong with him.” Chesire sighed. “How are we supposed to help him if we can’t even tell why he’s down?”
“We could send for a healer. We at least have the gold to pay,” kel’leam said.
“And where would we find a healer who we could trust not to kill him as soon as they knew who he was?” Cheshire asked.
“The Farflyers?”
“And how would he react to that when he wakes up?”
“You have a better idea?”
One of the lesser members of their party entered the tent. “Excuse me, Ma’am, Sir.”
“Yes?” Cheshire asked.
“A delegation’s arrived from the compound. There’s a gryphoness leading the party who says she wants to see Grif.”
“Send her over.” Cheshire nodded before raising a talon. “Just the gryphoness though. I don’t want to get overrun by some idiots trying to get an easy kill.”
“Yes, ma’am,” the sentry said as he departed.
“Is that altogether wise, Cheshire?” Kel’leam asked.
“It’s one person. If we can’t handle one, should we even be here?” she asked.
“... Point taken.”
The pair sat waiting and watching anxiously over their leader as he breathed shallowly, his blades at his side. A few minutes later, the flap parted to reveal a snow white gryphon with the head of a snowy owl and the body of a white lioness. Two large satchels were strapped to either side as she stepped in.
“My name is Avalon. I’ve been sent by Lord Garrus to help tend Grif’s wounds. How is he?”
“He is unconscious and he has been so for hours,” Cheshire said. “We are warriors, not healers, so we aren't able to fully tell the extent of what's wrong.”
“That’s what I’m here for. Do I have permission to approach?”
“Can we trust you?” she asked.
“I am unarmed,” she said simply, shrugging. “If it makes you feel better, you can stand behind me with a dagger drawn, just in case.”
Chesire glared at her for a long moment, her eyes seeming to bore into the gryphoness’ soul with high amounts of discrimination. Finally, she relented. “You’re being watched. You make any suspicious moves and they’ll be your last, are we clear?”
“Of course.” Avalon stepped forward, pulling the straps off her body even as she moved to sit by the makeshift bed. “These are medical books and supplies, so please don’t get too excited when I open them.” Cheshire grunted. Beginning with the initial examination, Avalon checked the bandages, removing them only briefly before expertly retying them after adding a few crushed herbs. “My compliments to your field medics. They knew what they were doing to repair these wounds, but they don’t appear to be the main cause of Grif’s current state. They’re far too minor to inconvenience a seasoned warrior like him.”
“That’s why we’re concerned,” kel’leam confirmed. “Grif has taken worse and walked away, he even fought a--” kel’leams eyes caught sight of the large serrated tooth on a cord around her neck.
“Is something the matter, sir …?”
“Kel’leam,” he said with a bow of his head. “Where did you get that?” he pointed to the tooth with his spear.
She took the tooth and gently held it in her talons. “It was a gift from a friend I met recently,” she said, smiling. “He was fairly casual about it, so I don’t know if he really earned it or simply bought it by the sea. Either way, I chose to keep it though.” Avalon frowned as she gazed on Grif again. “There doesn’t seem to be anything physically wrong with him.” She hummed to herself, seeing nothing as she looked to the sleeping Gryphon. “... There is another method I can use to seek a diagnosis …”
“Then use it,” Cheshire said. “If there is a cost, we will pay it.”
“Do I have your word on that?” Avalon asked, her gaze as intense if not more so than Cheshire’s had been with her.
“Name something and I will pledge on it,” she said.
“And you, Kel’eam, will you also swear to this?”
“Grif gave us a purpose again. He gave us the means to keep our cubs fed and our elderly safe. I’d give my soul to save him,” Kel’leam told her.
“Very well. My price is two fold. First, I want your word that neither of you will touch me, interfere, nor harm me in any way whilst I go through this process. Should you do so, I don’t know what the results will be. My second price is this: Silence. You are to swear to me on your word of honor and by the four winds that you will never speak of my methods to anyone save I give you leave. Do we have a deal?”
“We so swear,” they said in unison.
Avalon smiled. “Your strength of character and love is a great comfort indeed,” she said as she reached into the bag and pulled out a medical reference guide. With practiced skill, she slit the cover, carefully peeling it back to reveal a much older and rattier cover engraved with runes and Old Gryphic. She reached in again and carefully opened a secret false bottom. From the compartment, she lifted a chain on which hung what appeared to be a medallion of some kind. The sight of the medallion elicited a gasp from cheshire, but the gryphoness remained silent.
Avalon carefully untied the necklace she wore, setting it down on the ground next to her saddle bags as she donned the amulet. Kal’leam and Cheshire both eyed it as the white feather in its core glowed, illuminating the small space in the tent. The black onyx casing housing the quartz and its core had been carefully crafted and polished, engraved with ancient runes from times long past, carved and set from the purest jade.
She picked up the book and placed it on the makeshift table they had made from an old stump, carefully flicking through the pages. Looking at a couple of diagrams showing the gryphon anatomy and a series of lines that coursed from key points, she clutched the medallion in her talons, closed her eyes and uttered a brief prayer to the four winds. Her focus glowed brighter as she finished the benediction and raised it to her eye, carefully examining his body as she ran up and down. After a time, she let the focus drop. The glow faded to nothing as she slumped to the ground, pulling the book to review the diagrams. After checking and re-checking, she slumped her shoulders and let loose a heavy sigh.
“What’s wrong?” Kel’leam asked.
“... I don’t know how he’s even functioning right now,” she said, her voice shaken. “If what my studies show is correct, his magic field has been broken. But … it’s almost like something healed it. I noticed an anomaly that looked almost like, well, I suppose you’d call it a magical scarring of sorts, but that’s not possible.” She shook her head.
“Will he live?” Cheshire asked.
“The injury isn’t recent. There’s no real threat that I could detect from it. What concerns me is the flow of his magic through his body. It’s practically stopped; I barely noticed a trickle. I had to change my perspective a few times to even see it properly. I don’t know if it’s some form of interference or if I’m simply not strong enough in the art. However, if my theory is correct, then he’s suffering classic symptoms of overexertion. The only difference here is that his are of a magical nature, most likely from the battle with the Black Tips.
“Will he recover?” Kal’leam asked, his look anxious.
Avalon shook her head. “It’s too soon to say. Magical exertion of this kind has been known to leave creatures in a comatose state ranging anywhere from a few days to the rest of their lives.”
“Surely there’s something you can do?”
“I can only try one other thing, Sir Kal’leam. It won’t wake him, but it might help to stabilize him.”
Then try.”
“First things first.” Avalon took a pen and parchment from her sack and dipped it in an inkwell she’d brought with her. Hastily, she scrawled out a note, explaining she would need to remain with Grif to ensure his recovery and beg her master’s indulgence in this thing, for she could not in good conscience leave the patient until he became stable. With that said, she signed it, plucked out one of her feathers, and folded it inside the note. “Give this to my escort to take back to the compound. My lord will understand, as will my lady.”
“Very well.” Kel’leam took the note and left, leaving only Cheshire and Avalon with his fallen leader.
“Cheshire, I have one last favor to ask. It’s very important.”
“Yes?” she asked.
“What I’m about to do may be considered somewhat dangerous to me. I may overexert myself and fall unconscious. In the event that that happens, I must ask you to take my book and hide it where no one can see it. If it will be safe here in the tent, then well. But please, don’t let anyone see it. The secrets of that book in the wrong hands could spell the end of order in the Empire.”
“I will do as you ask.”
“Thank you,” Avalon said as she handed the book and its false cover to Cheshire. “Guard it with your life.” When Cheshire had taken it, Avalon turned to Grif. Clutching her focus, she began her spell. “From blood to blood and life to life, we soar across the winds to join our ancestors. They sing the song of the winds and we sing with them. Share your song with me, even as I share mine with you, that we may be one.” Her talisman flared like a star as she approached Grif’s prone body.
“Your song is fading, but mine is strong. Hear my voice and take my strength. I give you everything.” Avalon touched her breast with her free hand, then drew it over to Grif’s chest where she gently laid it. The light was radiant and blinding as a supernova within the tent walls. A cloud of dust rose out from beneath the flaps as she collapsed on the bed. Her breathing was shallow and ragged. Her left hand shook as she clutched the focus. Then, all too quickly, it slipped from her fingers. She watched it fall, its quartz core glinting as it slowly descended. She felt her chain go taut, then the steady rhythm of Grif’s chest rising and falling. Weakly, she turned her head and smiled as she saw his face. What once had been ragged and pained was now calm and peaceful. She had done it. She had done it. So the thought repeated over and over as the darkness took her.
Cheshire calmly slid a blanket over Avalon where she had passed out. She daren’t try to move her lest some aspect of the magic attempted be broken. Instead, she took the book as instructed and left to calm the troops. She’d have to do some fancy dancing to get them to swallow this one, but then again, wasn’t that part of the fun? She grinned, her whiskers twitching with anticipation.
“You sent for me?” Lunar Fang asked as she trotted into the office.
Hammer Strike looked up from his desk. “Yes, yes. I need you to send these messages through Pensword’s dragon lantern.”
“Where to?”
“To Luna and Twilight.”
“Consider it done,” Lunar said as she took the letters. “Was there anything else you needed while I’m here?”
“Yes. If Twilight ignores my message and pops up here and you see her, direct her to me so I can follow through with the warning I gave her. Basically, I’m telling her to stay away from here.”
“I’ll make sure to do that,” she said as she saluted. “I’ll be back with the troops on the parapets if you need me.” She frowned. “By the way, where’s Conor? You’re not letting him stay in the battle field, are you?”
“I’m having him stay close to the interior guard. As long as the changelings don’t get inside the castle, he won’t have to worry about a thing, but when they sneak by, I have a feeling they’ll find him shortly afterwards.”
“Do you want a guard placed around him?”
“He already had two tailing him.”
Lunar Fang nodded in approval. “I’ll leave you to it then,” she said as she left to fulfill her assignment.
“Is this necessary?” Trixie asked nervously, looking to her strapped down hooves and the large blinking device balanced on top of her head. “Or safe?”
“Of course it’s necessary, Trixie. We’ve been testing your range and power, which appears to have significantly expanded from what it used to be in your first visit to Ponyville. As for safety, I put Pinkie Pie on this machine before and she didn’t have any problems. I’m sure you’ll be just as fine.”
“Trixie is greatly reassured,” Trixie deadpanned.
“That’s great. Now hold still and try concentrating your magic in your horn. This machine should be able to tell us just how far your potential goes now and let us know if there’s a risk of any dark magic seeping through. Just make sure to stop when I tell you to, okay? I already had one explosion down here, and I really don’t need another.”
Trixie did as she was bidden, her horn at first covering with a light blue aura before dark grey streaks began swirling into it. Twilight immediately levitated a quill and scroll and began writing furiously. “June Tenth, Year 2 ARL. Subject name is Trixie. Due to mysterious exposure to high concentrations of dark magic, her physical appearance has been altered, along with her own magical field. How she survived such exposure is something that will be delved into in later experimentation. Initial findings indicate subject has experienced at least 100 percent increase in magical power and potential. However, this is a conservative estimate. … Sorry, Trixie. No offense meant.”
“None taken,” Trixie responded. “So Trixie is stronger?”
“Actually, yes. When facing other unicorns, you’d likely be in the higher tiers now when it comes to raw potential,” Twilight said absently as she read the machine’s output. “... Interesting. Subject seems to have what appears to be a completely unique form of magic. It’s not nearly so dark as Sombra, but it’s not pure Unicorn magic either. For the sake of having a name to call this, I think we’ll dub this new magic ‘The Grey Arte.’” She checked the readings once more. “Trixie, how much power are you using right now?”
“Trixie is merely fueling her horn like you asked. She is putting in enough effort to make her aura visible, but that is all.”
“That’s all?” Twilight gawked as she checked the charts. “But that means--” she dashed over to her nearby chalkboard. “Carry the one, minus the three, X to the Y ... “ her mouth dropped. “Trixie … I don’t know how to say this, but your magic may actually be stronger than mine was when I was a unicorn, back when I first came to Ponyville.”
“But Trixie was tested no where near that high,” Trixie noted, her horn flickering out as he concentration broke. Her voice carried a tone of serious shock.
“Well, it does now, which means we may have a bit of a problem. You’re going to need to learn to control that magic before it starts causing trouble.” Twilight’s brows furrowed as she tapped a pondering hoof over her chin.
Suddenly the bell on the library’s door jingled as the clatter of little hooves echoed on the wooden floor above. “Twilight? Are you here?” Applebloom called. “I need to ask ya something,” she said in her family’s familiar country twang. Twilight sighed, looking apologetically at Trixie.
“Sorry, this should only take a few minutes. Think you can wait for me till then?”
“Can Trixie be unhooked from the machine? She needs to stretch her legs,” Trixie asked.
“Sure. The initial testing is finished anyways and before I test your full range I’ll need to send for some more materials to modify my equipment. Just don’t touch anything alright? This equipment’s really delicate.” With that said, Twilight made her way up the stairs and out of sight.
Sighing, Trixie ignited her horn, preparing for the strain of forcing the clasps open only to accidentally rip the metal off the chair. She stared at the bits for a moment in shock. “... What happened to Trixie?”
All of a sudden a tingling sensation rushed over her body as bits of smoke and ash flowed down the stairs and coalesced in front of her, compacting in a blue aura before dropping onto the floor.
“What’s this?” Trixie spoke aloud to herself as she levitated the scroll up towards her and broke the seal. Slowly and carefully, she opened the scroll and started reading.
‘Dear Twilight,
Taking into account the chance that you’ll see something happening in the Everfree, I’m just going to tell you what’s going on. We’re dealing with changelings and I want you to stay out of this. I want none of the Elements of Harmony involved in this battle or I swear I’ll ensure that you get weapons training from me, just like how I trained Celestia. You can’t say you wouldn’t be able to do it; you’re an alicorn now. You can and will if you jump into this battle.
~Hammer Strike’
“New Unity is under attack?” Trixie gasped. “But they could be injured or hurt. The changelings could be bearing down on them now and if they die now, how will Trixie show them that Trixie is the repentant and sorrowful Trixie?” She looked at the note again. “But wait ... this note says Twilight Sparkle and the Elements are not to go to New Unity’s aid. It says nothing about anypony else. Surly Lord Hammer Strike would welcome the aid of another Unicorn. But how would--?” Trixie’s eyes were drawn to Twilight’s notes. “Hmm… Trixie was almost able to teleport before. If Twilight Sparkle’s math is right, Trixie could easily teleport miles now without danger. New Unity is close by. Yes, yes, this could work. Trixie can go. Trixie can help! Trixie can prove she is the redeemable and good natured Trixie!”
Trixie closed her eyes and pictured the gates of new unity. Her horn flared as she summoned the mana. She calculated her place in the aether and the place she needed to be and activated the spell. A sphere of blue fire encompassed her form and vanished, leaving behind a deep grey smoke which dissipated shortly after.
“Sorry about that, Trixie, now where … were … we?” Twilight looked around the room, confused until she found the scroll on the floor beneath one of her work tables. The restraints had been burst from their anchors and a large scorch mark stained the floor a sooty black in its center. “What happened here?” she questioned as she levitated the scroll to her. Ten seconds later, her scream shook the library to its roots as it echoed through Ponyville.
Grif stirred weakly in his sleep as his eyes opened to the warm air of the day. He inhaled and then found himself coughing as the air tickled the sandpaper of his throat. “Water,” he rasped. A cup was carefully pushed to his beak and he smiled at the glowing white feathers on its owner’s arm.
“If you’re some sort of spirit sent by the winds, can you tell me what I did to be seen to the afterlife by someone so beautiful?” he asked, coughing a bit as the words came out.
A melodious laugh filled the air, light and gentle as the morning mist. “The winds yet have more work for you to do, Grif. They’ve not seen fit to take you yet. Slowly, slowly,” she cautioned as Grif grabbed the cup and started to throw it back. The gryphoness leaned in, her snow owl features becoming clear and distinct as Grif blinked his eyes. Her grip was surprisingly strong as she fought to resist him and lessen the flow down his beak. “You’ll drown yourself if you drink too fast,” Avalon said, chuckling. “And we’ve plenty more where that came from.”
“Why?” he asked after finally finishing the water. “Why are you helping me?”
“Because it was the right thing to do. And those cowardly dogs had no right to attack in our lands. We don’t approve of Black Tips,” she said, her eyes narrowing.
“How long was I out?” he asked. Then he noticed the bags under her eyes and the slump in her shoulders. “How long have you been up?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Somewhere around twelve hours, perhaps,” she said, waving casually. As for how long you’ve been out, it’s been just a little over a day and a half since your collapse.”
“Sit down,” Grif ordered.
Avalon slowly shook her head and smiled. “It can wait until you’re on your feet again. Can you sit up?” she asked as she reached for a bowl and pulled it to her, lifting the spoon out as it trailed a dark brown liquid.
Grif shakily moved himself into the sitting position. “Exausting yourself is only going to keep me from resting, and then we’ll both be in trouble. Sit down.”
“Avalon sighed. “If you insist.” She padded up to Grif’s bed before taking a seat. Then she brought the spoon to his beak. “Now open and eat. We’ll see about getting you solid food after you get a little more energy.” The beef broth was surprisingly flavorful with a variety of spices and the strong taste of basil leaf mixed with the earthy and bitter flavor of healing herbs.
“Could you bring me some paper and a pen from my bag? Also, you’ll find a small silver box with a hinge near the top. Bring that too.”
Avalon did so, placing the bowl carefully on the ground as she slowly brought herself up to her paws again. Then she walked over to the other side of Grif’s bed where his satchel lay. The pen and paper was easy to locate, and the box was bulky enough that it stood out beneath the books it was wedged between. A clay bottle with a thin neck stood next to it, held snugly in place by the careful packing. As she moved to take the box, she paused as her eyes ran over the book that lay next to it. It was surprisingly small and the cover was bound of a thin, sturdy material not unlike cardboard. It bore a painting of a rocky beach with two large creatures locked in combat. One resembled a badger dressed in a green cloak and wielding a large great sword. The other was most obviously a wild cat dressed in bronze armor with a red cape and a spiked helm. It held a trident in which the blade of the badger’s sword was locked, but what really drew the gryphoness’ attention were the letters on the cover. Letters she had seen before in another book. Letters she had loved since childhood.
“Where did you get this?” she asked as she carried the book, balancing the other items on its cover.
“That?” Grif looked at the book, then at her. “That is a very hard explanation. How well can you keep a secret?” he asked her.
“Well enough,” she said, her face drawn as a shadow passed over it. She reached for the bowl after placing the items on Grif’s bed and began to ladle the broth again.
“Do you believe in other worlds?” Grif asked her as he swallowed another spoonful.
Avalon was silent for a long time. “I’m not sure how to answer that, honestly, but I’m not entirely closed to the idea.”
“This will be hard to believe,” Grif said before spilling into his story. Much as he had with Shrial, he told her everything, every detail he knew, and left nothing out. He had to stop several times for water and more broth, but finally he stopped at the current situations and faced her. “And that's how we got here.” He waited for her reaction.
“That is … quite the tale,” Avalon said as she took it all in. “Honestly, I don’t know if I can believe it all. What you said about a magical field does make sense in hindsight,” she said as she placed a claw to her beak. “But if what you tell me is true, and you really can read these characters, I have a book I’d like you to translate.”
“And what happens when you find the next book?” Grif asked, laughing “I could give you a fish, or I could teach you to fish. The choice is yours.”
“Why not both?” she smirked.
“Cause translating a book would take a lot of time and paper.” Grif laughed, then a curious look came over him. “Can you, by any chance, read Equic?”
“Of course. You do realize you’re asking a girl who’s loved reading since she was a cub, right?”
Grif signaled for her to bring his bag over again. She did so, hauling the whole thing up and landing it between his legs. Grif dug into it. “When we arrived, my friends and I couldn’t speak a lick of Equish, nor could we read or write it, so Celestia and Luna created something to help us,” he said, pulling out an old and beaten amulet. “Place this on your neck and the words will become Equish,” Grif said, pulling back as she reached for it. “Ah ah, dearie, all magic comes with a price,” he said, waving a claw.
Avalon’s face grew flat, her voice chilled. “And what are your terms?”
“You can only use this when you’re alone at night and you’ll still come here to learn from me until you no longer require this amulet. That’s my price.”
“No other catch?” she asked, folding her arms over her chest.
“I fought for the rights of females as much as ponies during the Third Gryphon War. I wouldn’t stoop so low,” he said, offering the amulet to her. The look in his eyes revealed a suspicion of her fear.
“... Very well, I believe these are reasonable terms. And you certainly will have to remain for at least a week before your recovery is complete, I think. We can start them once you’re back on your feet again. For now, you should probably rest. I have to let Cheshire know that you’re awake.” She smiled as she patted his sweat-matted crest. “I’ll be back soon, Grif,” she said as she left the tent.
“Et je vais être en attente,” Grif said as the tent flap fell behind her.
Leader Changeling Infiltrator snuck over the wall as some of his fellow Changelings drew the ponies away from his place along the parapet. He grinned to himself as he felt the link to Queen Chrysalis. “My Queen, I am inside the walls heading to the main building. A few more feet and I will be able to integrate myself as a pony. I will take the guise of an Orange Pegasus: Cutie Mark, a Bow and Arrow. What are my objectives?”
“Gain any intelligence you can regarding the structure. Find and secure hostages, especially foals,” Chrysalis relayed.
“Your command is my wish,” the infiltrator responded over their link. “I shall move from top to bottom. If I should find any of those that brought shame to our hive, what should I do?” The question was in the air as he took to the air flying towards one of the Pegasus entrances in the top of the tower.
The Infiltrator slowly landed and entered the room. Feeling more comfortable in the hallways, he kept his ears perked as he looked around the place, ever wary of the enemy. Most of the castle floor seemed uninhabited. That is, until he reached the only double doors he had seen on the floor. His ears perked and he smiled nefariously as he heard the sound of a playful giggle. “My Queen I have found what seems to be where they have made their nest. I shall see how many foals I can capture. I am going silent.” He stepped up to the door and knocked. “Hello? I’m here to help guard the foals.” Silence greeted him and he grinned as he opened the door and stepped into the room.
Ten minutes later, a shrill scream greeted three rushing ponies as Vital Spark, Lunar Fang, and Black Rook charged for the nursery.
“Out of my way!” Lunar Fang shouted as she bore down on the door before smashing it with a massive buck. The wood splintered as dark green slime sprayed onto her flanks. One more buck and the door was demolished.
Lunar Fang turned and flew into the room, wing blades at the ready only to pause, dumbstruck as she landed on the ground. Black Rook and Vital Spark followed and they stopped, just as dumbfounded.
“What the heck?” Vital Spark asked.
“Affirmative,” Rook mumbled, his eyes wide.
The Changeling was pinned, dazed and moaning on the ground, trapped with its horn snapped and driven through the holes in its legs. Its wings were covered with water and soap. Dancing around it were six foals while from her place on a tall perch, Moon River looked pleased as punch. She smiled as she took to the air and glided to her mother. “Mommy!” She yelled with happy joy. “Not Momma, Not Dadda.” She pointed a wing at the changeling.
“... Anybody got a camera?” Vital Spark asked.
“On the Desk over there.” Lunar Fang pointed to Pensword’s work desk. “Go ahead. I want documentation for Moon River’s first battle.”
“Pensword’s going to flip when he learns he missed Moon River’s first words, let alone her first battle.” Vital Spark reached over to the table and fumbled with the camera for a few seconds before he finally managed to get it to stick to his hooves before carrying it back to Lunar Fang. “Here you go, Lunar Fang,” he said.
“You have to take the picture. It is tradition for the family member to share in their first battle win.” She grinned as she looked at her daughter. “What do we do with your captive?”
“Nanny Bug!” She cried happily.
“Um … okay, I don’t really trust myself with these things yet. Do you think you could take the picture for her, Rook? I’m still a little clumsy,” Vital Spark said.
Black Rook stood there, entirely unsure of what to do. Silently, he reached over and took the camera before snapping the picture.
“Thank you.” Lunar Fang smiled as she kissed her daughter on the forehead. “Can you boys leave? I’ll see what I can do to help with this situation. Moon River wants a Nanny, and who am I to deny her?” She giggled as she rubbed her wing over her daughter’s head. “I am so proud of you, my little Moon River.” She looked to Vital Spark and Black Rook. “When Pensword gets back, we’ll hold a large celebration and you shall be at our table as witnesses to her victory.” Lunar Fang practically beamed with pride.
“You got it, Lunar Fang. We’ll leave the scout to you,” Vital said as he stepped out. “I’d probably better get back to Little Willow. She’ll need an extra set of hooves at the infirmary.” With that Vital Spark was gone.
“Infiltrator, what is your status?” Chrysalis’ voice called in the changeling’s mind.
“... Help … me …” Infiltrator groaned as he was once again dropped upon by little baby Moon River.
Lunar Fang grinned, showing her fangs. “Oh, we plan on that.”
Grif lay on his bed working carefully on a letter. He wasn’t paying attention to the world around him as he tried his best to to compose his thoughts.
From the entrance of his tent, two Griffons entered. Behind them, Pensword came walking bereft of weapon and armor. The Pegasus hung his head low, his eyes to the ground as he slowly approached. Standing before Grif, he looked up only once to make sure he was in the right place before he rolled onto the ground and bared his neck alongside his belly.
“Hello, Pensword. Was there something you needed sent home?” Grif asked, not bothering to look up as he continued to work on the letter.
Pensword did not say a word. When Grif still didn’t look up, he breathed a heavy sigh. Grif still didn’t notice. At last, one of the guards coughed into into his talon. “Um … sir? I think you need to see this.” Kel’leam said, electing a slight jump from the Gryphon to his right. Kel’leam sighed mournfully.
Grif looked up. “Pensword, what are you doing?”
“I am placing myself into your talons. At least, I think this is how it was done a thousand years ago.”
“Why in the devil would you do that?”
“Because the camp is in danger of fracturing. By doing this, I am submitting myself to your judgement for my actions I threatened to take when I overreacted.” Pensword stared off into space, refusing to look at his friend. That could be viewed as defiance, or an insult. “I had my mind clouded, and that is still no excuse. I overreacted. I do not deserve to lead at your side. I am a danger to this entire mission.”
“That’s horse apples and you know it,” Grif said. “Get on your hooves, man, and stop talking nonsense. You have nothing to apologize for.”
“Not to you, but to your host, and to the Bladefeathers. I want this team be united.” Pensword slowly rolled onto his hooves before he moved to stand..
“My Bladefeathers will forgive,” Grif said, his voice like ice as it spread over Kal’leam and Cheshire. “I’d figure they’d have known better than this.”
“Right,” Pensword responded. He looked at Grif, narrowing his eyes. “Just what were you thinking? I see Cosy as the brother I lost. What you did cut my heart deeply.” He snorted, then frowned. “Now we need to patch things up between you and Cosy. This is twice my anger almost did me a disservice. When this is done, I need you to help me with this.”
“This grudge against the Farflyers was starting to make me lose my grip on who I am,” Grif admitted. “While I was out, I had some time to reconsider myself. I have much to atone for.”
“Um … is it okay for me to come in?” A hesitant Cosy asked from the outside.
Pensword looked to Grif. “This is your tent. You have final say.” He took a seat on the ground and looked to his friend.
“Bring him in,” Grif said. Kal’leam raised the tent flap and nodded to the little foal. Cosy walked slowly in, his pace purposeful and direct, even if his eyes spoke of something else.
Pensword nodded once at Cosy, then turned his eyes and head to look at Grif, waiting for Grif to speak now.
“I’m sorry.” Grif bowed his head low as he could in his position. “I was thoughtless and stupid. You tried to help me see that this grudge was poisoning you and all I did was bring you pain. I understand if you can’t forgive me, but I want you to know that moment will always be amongst my most shameful.”
“As the Prince of the Crystal Empire, I accept your apology. As Cosy, though …” the young prince jumped onto Grif’s bed and did his best to put his forelegs around Grif’s broad, muscular torso. “Don’t scare me like that again. I was the one who was wrong. I was out of line.” The tears fell freely as he sobbed into Grif’s feathers. “I’d never forgive myself if … if you … I’m so sorry!” Cosy wept openly into Grif’s shoulders, unable to control himself, despite what he’d been told about how to act in the Empire.
“There there.” Grif held the colt tightly. “I just wore myself out. I’m not going anywhere.”
“I don’t hate you. I don’t.” It seemed important for him to say that, to let Grif know, even if he already did. It just had to be said.
Pensword smiled as he stepped forward only to have Grif snag him into the hug as well. Pensword silently cried as he felt Moon Burn’s spirit at his side.
“Let’s agree that we’re all square, okay?” Grif asked, a tear even showing in his eye.
“Consider it done,” Pensword spoke with a solid conviction.
“I second the motion!” Cosy said cheerfully, waving his hoof like a judge in a house of lords.
Pensword smiled at Cosy’s words before frowning. “Grif, I still need to meet with the Leader of the Farflyers. It would be rude to hide the Demon on their land. I would rather be transparent after the Black Tips incident.”
“Give it time,” Grif told him. “I’ll need another day at least before I’m allowed out.”
“I understand that. In the mean time, I think Cosy and I can try to try and repair the feelings in the camp.”
“We just gotta tell em everything’s great and we fixed it all up,” Cosy said. “Then it’ll all be good again. Come on, Pensword, let’s go. Grif needs his rest. And besides, I think there’s a lady who’s coming to meet him too. She told me to go on in first. Is she your girlfriend, Grif?”
“I don’t know.” Grif laughed, poking the colt on the nose. “if you two need anything sent home, let me know by tonight.”
“I will do so. I think a letter home to Lunar Fang would be best.” Pensword frowned. “I am regretting not bringing a dragon fire lantern. Still, Grif, you will have a letter to send home by tonight.”
“I think I’ll be okay. I don’t want Kady to worry more than she already is. It’s probably better if I don’t write to her about this.”
“Agreed,” Pensword muttered. “That will be something to be told only in person.”
Changelings were moving forward towards the walls, the gates were splintered and a thick layer of green goo covered the main walls and gate, slowly eating away at both. The mix of creatures on the walls were shifting a little as they waited for the assaulting force to get closer to launch another arrow attack and take more of them down. They were hoping that they could somehow draw them into range. Currently, the majority of Gryphons were dealing with the incursion of the Gryphon Compound, leaving three Gryphons who were trying to take out the distance. Still, one Pegasus good at counting estimated over two hundred Changelings swarming slowly towards them.
Fox Feather growled to those around her. “Is she toying with us?” She shifted uneasily, her wing blades glinting in the sunlight.
“... Hammer Strike’s faced her before, apparently,” Gilda said. “She’s been testing us and our defenses, trying to gauge our abilities before she goes for the all out attack,” she said casually as she fired a bolt into the middle of the throng. There was a tiny pop, followed by a shockwave of wind as a group of changelings dissipated into nothing.
“Well, at least Lord Hammer Strike is yet again showing he is blessed by the Lost Alicorn of the Forge,” Fox Feather muttered, shaking her head. “Still, I am happy he works for us and not our enemy.”
“Come again?” Gilda asked.
“Oh,” Fox Feather responded. “That’s right, you wouldn’t know the old tale. The Alicorn of the Forge was the, well, a relative of sorts to the Two Sister’s parents. It was this Alicorn who taught forging to the Ponies first, always there to humble a boastful smith. This is why today, most smith's and masters of the forge call their weapons the ‘Greatest Pony Weapon,’ their armor ‘the greatest pony armor,’ etcetera, according to their species so as not to draw the ire of the Alicorn.” She shook her head. “In a thousand years it seems the Alicorn legends have vanished, and only Faust remains.”
“... I’d rather we not talk about her if that’s alright with you, Fox Feather. We have a job to do.”
“Well, you asked,” Fox Feather responded. “Still, I just wish we had not lost what we did.”
The pair returned to work, then stared, shocked as Hammer Strike rushed into the fray, his armor glinting in the sun. “What in the name of the four winds does he think he’s doing?” Gilda exclaimed, muttering a string of curses.
Fox Feather laughed. “Oh you’ve seen nothing yet.” She watched the battle. “This is just a skirmish.” With those words she took to the air and dive-bombed some Changelings to the left, showing off the true skill of a Gryphon Slayer, which, when put up against a Changeling, was like spearing a fish in a barrel. Soon the other Gryphon Slayers were charging from the walls into the fray with war cries of old, some sending a shiver down the spines of a few green troops.
From the east came a great roar as the Bladefeathers pushed the attackers back from the compound, their weapons flashing and slamming with precision and might. The changelings, now flanked, found their side and rear falling before them like chaff on the grindstone. In front of the charge, with the ground quaking with every step, Big Guns swung his hammer in wide arcs, crushing any who got in his way.
“No prisoners!” Thalia shouted as she pushed them onward. “Kill them all!”
As the battle raged, a sudden bright flash of blue fire blinded the changelings that remained, further demoralizing them as five changelings violently exploded, spreading green slime and flesh fragments in all directions as they bubbled and hissed. From within that ball of light, The Great and Powerful Trixie materialized, smiling.
“Trixie has come to help,” she said, smiling as Hammer Strike threw a dagger at a changeling that was trying to sneak up behind her. It immediately embedded itself into the creature’s skull, killing it on contact.
“Come to help, eh? Then help yourself back to New Unity to ensure everyone is fine.”
Trixie’s face fell slightly. “If that’s what you want, then Trixie will oblige.” She sighed as she turned to run for the bridge and the gates. When she arrived, she pounded on them. “Open for Trixie. Hammer Strike has told her to come in!” She yelled. A few minutes later, the doors swung ponderously open as Trixie made her way inside.
“Only one pony can talk like that. Not even a changeling can be that good,” a strange white unicorn said. For some reason he felt familiar, but she couldn’t say why. “Hi. I’m Vital Spark. Nice to meet you,” he said as the gates boomed shut behind them.
Avalon strummed the lyre with a skilled hand as she sang a ballad from ages past, reading out of the Book of Grask, this time depicting the great battle between he and the viscous Tiamut, the demon dragoness who plagued the western heights. Her voice flowed effortlessly as the strings thrummed with fervor and great respect while she brought the tale to life. At long last, the mighty Grask raised his enchanted swords, slashing the serpent’s head off and screeching in triumph before saluting and returning to his pride once again.
“A healer, a singer, a musician. Next you’ll be telling me you do miracles.” Grif laughed as she finished.
“Only if the occasion requires it,” she said, smiling warmly. “I had to do something to pay you back for those lessons.”
“Your presence is payment enough.” It was a forward comment, but Grif realized as time grew short he had to know how she felt.
“You’re too kind, Grif.” She smiled as she lay a talon over his head. “Are you sure you don’t have a fever?” She smirked.
“Not physically,” Grif told her. “But I find myself delirious when a certain someone is around.”
“Then perhaps that certain someone should leave?” she asked playfully.
“But when that someone leaves, I feel like I might die. It’s quite the conundrum.”
“And when that someone leaves, fear clutches her heart that you’ll disappear. Perhaps we should find a way to remedy the situation?”
“Really?” Grif smiled, leaning in a bit. “But what right does a monster have to an angel?” he asked her.
At that point in time, the flap of the tent tore violently open as Cheshire stepped in. “Sir, we have a problem. The Farflyer compound is mobilizing. Bells, whistles, the whole shebang.”
“Are they under attack?” Grif asked intently.
“They don’t appear to be, but they sure look upset.”
“I should probably go to them. If something is happening, my lady will need me. I’m so sorry, Grif,” Avalon said as she rushed out the tent and took to the air, flying as quickly as she could.
“Wait! You forgot your--” Cheshire sighed. “Well, I guess we’ll just hold on to these till she gets back,” she said as she moved to pick up the side bags Avalon had brought with her.
“Leave them there,” Grif ordered. “Take a token force and go make sure everything’s all right. If I need anything, I’ll call Kel’leam…. Thats assuming he’s not already in here.” Grif looked around. “He’s not already in here is he?”
“No, sir, not this time.” Cheshire moved to place the bags by his bed. “I’ll tell him to come in before I go,” she said, her whiskers twitching in time to her tail as she broke into her crazy grin. “We’ll be back soon.” With that said, she left the tent and Grif was left to his own devices.
Grif sighed, feeling that empty cold feeling that he found more and more common with the end of Avalon’s frequent visits. He walked around the tent slowly, stretching his legs. His eyes shifted to the letter he was writing. As with all things, he was keeping nothing from Shrial. He just hoped that hormones wouldn’t force her into some out of character jealousy.
He was about to turn back to his bed when he felt a cold chill down his spine. A familiar feeling echoed in the tent. Painful, long, rage-filled memories filled his mind as he started looking. There was Gryphon magic here. Somehow an evoker was nearby. He began inspecting everything carefully, finding no hint of ruins or amulets, yet the feeling still lingered, getting stronger and stronger until the cold chill turned into a nauseating pull at the pit of his stomach. Looking down, he found himself standing over Avalon’s bag. He looked to the door of the tent, then back at the bag.
Grif knew he shouldn’t, but the pull was too much for him and he found himself tearing into the bag. He took out and placed several books before stopping. The one in his claws was practically soaked in that familiar energy. Using a talon, he made a small slit in the leather binding. His arms shook as he saw what was revealed: A grimoire, an ancient one from an evoker far older than the ones who had captured him. The book was under many heavy enchantments and was quite clearly being held together against the bidding of time by them. He turned his gaze back to the bag as he felt the throbbing pulsing feeling still emanating. He cleared the bag out to the bottom, but still found nothing. How could this be? He was about to shift his search when one of his talons slit through the bottom of the bag.
Seeing something gleam in the light, he fished out the object, revealing the amulet. Grif stepped back, dropping both objects as if burned. Memories assaulted his mind, the wind tunnel, trying to breathe, but finding so little filling his lungs. He found himself leaning against the front tent post hyperventilating.
“Knock Knock,” Pensword’s voice rang out. “Are you free for lunch? If Miss Avalon is with thee, she is welcomed in my tent as well.” Grif could tell Pensword was trying to be a little more diplomatic now. A few moments of silence changed everything. “Grif? Is everything okay?”
Grif mumbled incoherently before holding out a finger to the amulet and the book.
Pensword poked his head into the room with a confused look. “What’s--?” He stopped as he saw his friend pointing at some items on the ground. Entering the tent fully, he frowned as he approached the objects. The medallion-like item was only too familiar to him as memories of the invokers led him to shudder. “That… but I thought they were all dead,” Pensword muttered as he sat down. “Where did you find them?”
Grif pointed towards Avalon’s bag.
“Has she hurt you?” Pensword’s voice was flat and unemotional.
Grif shook his head.
“Then why in Faust’s good name does she have them with her?” he growled. “How do you want me to proceed? I stay here and ask her what the meaning is of this? Or do you want to do this alone?”
“I--.I need you to stay here,” Grif said, working to get a hold of himself. “But I need to handle this.”
Pensword nodded his head and moved to a corner of the tent, sat down, and waited.
It was not until late in the evening that Avalon finally returned, flustered and worried as she entered the tent. “I am so sorry, Grif. I didn’t mean to take so long, but I wasn’t able to get away until now.”
Grif sat on his bed, his expression bleak as he pointed to the stump where the grimoire and focus both had been lain.
Avalon turned to the door only to find Kel’leam and Cheshire blocking the way out. She turned to face Grif as she noticed Pensword waiting in the corner, his wing blades glinting. She put her face into her talons and shook it.
“Son of a Diamond Dog,” she swore.
As the battle raged on outside, the infirmary was a mess as Vital Spark and Trixie both tried their best to follow instructions and keep out of Little Willow’s way.
“That’s not Calendula, that’s Arnica,” Willow said, snorting as she applied pressure to the bleeding guard’s flank with a clean bandage. “Look for the other one with dried yellow blossoms, Vital Spark.” Meanwhile, an oil filled vial was levitated in Trixie’s blue-grey aura to the nurse’s hoof. “Thank you, Trixie,” Little Willow said as she poured some of it onto the bandage before applying pressure again. Conor grabbed another bottle that looked right and brought it over. Little Willow dug into it and pulled out the dried blossoms, adding them to the bandage as she took a few sprigs of Goldenrod for good measure. Then she wrapped it up as tightly as possible, breaking off the rest of the bandage with her teeth before tying it in place.
“Get him on one of those beds, Trixie,” Little Willow said as she took a towel and wiped her forehead. Vital Spark carried a glass of water to the nurse and she drank gratefully.
“I’m sorry I can’t help more, but I’m afraid I don’t know any healing spells yet,” the colt apologized. Little Willow sighed. “That’s alright, Vital Spark. At least you’re willing to help, and I need hooves like yours and Trixie’s. Seven other ponies rushed around the ward, working to prepare beds and get tools cleaned and sterilized. Their nurse’s and doctor’s garb were matted with sweat and stained by blood.
“Little Willow, where is the alpha class unicorn and why is it not on the battlefield?” Trixie asked.
“What are you talking about, Trixie?” Little Willow asked. “All our troops are mobilized. The only unicorns not fighting are here in this room either on their beds, or helping patch everyone up.
“But Trixie can feel a massive magical power nearby. And it’s clearly a unicorn.”
“If we did, why would Hammer Strike keep him or her in reserve?” Vital asked. “It doesn’t make sense.”
“But Trixie does feel it,” Trixie said.
“Clear the area, we have more incoming!” A guard shouted as he and his companion held the double doors open. Six guards comprised of two unicorns, two earth ponies, and two pegasi, bore another on a stretcher stained with blood. The patient twitched weakly and let out a moan as the guards laid everything down on an empty bed.
Little Willow moved to the figure carefully. With a clinical eye, she examined the body on the stretcher. “Vital Spark, shut the door,” she instructed. Vital Spark did so as the two guards stepped aside, looking on with concern to the patient, a red earth pony with a bright green mane.
“You know, you really could have tried a little better than this,” Little Willow said before she unsheathed her emerald gem dagger with lightning fast speed and dug it into the chest of a nearby pegasus. “The cuts aren't deep,” she moved the knife to the other side of the chest as green blood gushed from the cut. “The bruises are, at best, skin deep.” She shoved the knife downward. “And you honestly call that a head wound?” Before the changeling had even breathed it’s last, she withdrew the knife and slit its throat in one motion. “Now this right here,” she gestured with the blade at the fallen changeling while staring at the others. “This guy needs medical attention: something he’ll soon have in common with all the rest of you.”
The rest of the so called guards dropped their disguises as they buzzed. Three Changelings quickly jumped onto Little Willow. The one on the stretcher jumped and shot goo on some of the other orderlies. The one on the bottom got the knife somewhat away from Little Willow, that is to say right in the belly between two plates of Chitin.
Trixie attempted to grab the changeling that had played the wounded warrior as it leapt off the stretcher in mid-air. When the insectoid was in her magic, however, his entire body exploded from the pressure. Her eyes went wide. “Trixie didn’t mean to do that,” Trixie shrieked. While another four changelings jumped onto the pile, Trixie turned to face the frightened orderlies. They had huddled together with the hardening goo. Not having been trained in combat, they tried to use one of the beds as a barrier, and being too scared, said nothing as one of the changelings stealthily broke from the pile and began to creep up on Trixie, fangs at the ready.
“Trixie, duck!” Vital yelled as his horn flared. He shut his eyes as the trays and surgical implements shuddered and began to rise.
Trixie did as she was bidden, her eyes widening as she watched the tools. They wobbled hesitantly in the air and one or two dropped to clatter on the floor. The changeling laughed at the pathetic display as it too rose, its wings buzzing. The laughter soon cut off with a shriek that faded to a gurgling moan followed by a loud thump. The rest of the changelings cried out in anger, resuming their assault as they continued to swarm over Little Willow, desperate for a hostage.
“Get off,” Vital barked, his voice filling the room. Six separate snaps and crunches sounded off in paired retorts, each preluded by a scream or curse of some kind. The sound of screeching metal and shifting cabinets filled the air as he felt things flying past him and heard them stacking against a wall. Then all was silence as he breathed in and out, in and out. He felt a gentle hoof on his shoulder.
“Vital, I want you to open your eyes slowly and breathe deeply. This is going to be hard to take,” Little Willow’s voice said in his ears.
“... It’s bad, isn’t it?” Vital asked. His voice sounded almost detached, but a slight tremor passing through his body told LIttle Willow all she needed to know.
“You saved lives today, Vital Spark. That’s what matters; remember that,” she said.
Vital sighed, took another deep breath, and braced himself for what he knew must inevitably come. It still didn’t do much to prepare him. The orderlies gaped at him, trembling. The fear they had once held toward the changelings was now directed to him. As his eyes wandered to the left, Trixie was staring in awe, her mouth agape. The changeling that had tried to sneak up on her looked more like a pincushion, its body covered in steel scalpels, glass fragments, and other sharp surgical pieces. A puddle of green blood oozed beneath it, its eyes impaled and held open by the shafts of two metal hooks that had seized the flesh like two bulbous fish eggs on a fishing wire. Twin needles barely stuck out from the sides of its horn. Its legs twitched occasionally along with its wings. He did his best not to be sick as he turned with some measure of relief to the stack of bed frames and dressers that now barred the door.
“... I don’t know if I want to turn around,” Vital Spark said, his legs shaking as he tried to remember to breathe. Tears sprung in his eyes against his will.
Little Willow wrapped her hooves around him gently. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”
“... What did I do to them?”
“You pulled them off me. Then you did a couple of different things. Two of them you threw into the wall with enough force to break their armor ... and a few more things besides,” she said. To lie would only make things worse. “Two others, you simply smashed into the floor and compacted into balls. And the last two … after they were levitated far enough away, you summoned a giant fly swatter construct and, well --”
“So,” Grif said as he looked at Avalon. “You have an explanation for me?” The worst part had to be how flat and neutral his tone was. There was no playful glint in the eye, no hint of the Grif whose company she had come to enjoy, mayhaps even crave. That Grif was locked away somewhere she would not be able to reach.
“... If you wish to kill me, I understand,” Avalon said as she eyed the focus and the grimoire both. “That art’s always been forbidden to females, and the males for centuries, ever since you, well, you know,” she said.
“Ever since I spent three days in a constant wind tunnel with barely enough air to breathe while the practitioners of this craft attempted to break my magic field,” Grif said. “I thought I had kept this out of Gryphon hands.”
Avalon’s eyes widened. “I saw the damage in your field, but to think it came from that … I didn’t want to believe Grandfather’s tales.” She shuddered.
“Sometimes the past is buried for a reason,” Grif said with burning intensity. He looked at the focus. Contrary to popular belief, destroying such a thing was incredibly difficult. Making one even more so. “Pensword, you said that the scouts found the library fully intact. You said they went over every volume. Is it possible this came from the fort?”
Pensword shook his head. “Negative. This book is far older than what we found. I took the time, and some of the notes were written by talon. What we have here is an actual research book if I am to take a guess, most likely from this landmass, not in Equestria. I ordered each book stamped on the inside cover to track anything that might have been sold after the war and checked each one of them myself to be sure.”
“Where did you find this?” Grif asked. “What reason could you have gotten into this?”
Avalon sighed. “I didn’t find the book; the book found me. I was young and I had wanted to make a difference, a contribution to the clan. Not for war, not for conquering, just to help. It was while I walked out here by the lakeside that I found it lying in the sand. I carried it home, curious about its purpose and why it had been left here. When I found it was in Ancient Gryphic, I knew it had to be something special, so I hid it and studied until I managed to decipher the language on my own. You can imagine my surprise when I found out its use.”
“And you never thought to doubt the safety of an arcane object?” Grif asked her.
“It had done me no harm. I admit that initially I tried to put it away. I was afraid of it, but the book kept coming back. It wouldn’t stay put anywhere I tried to leave it. So, I finally relented and kept it in my room. You already saw the decoy I placed on it to make it less desirable. The book seemed content with that and I left it be.” She looked up guiltily. “Until my Father grew ill.”
“Carry on,” Grif said.
“It happened about five years ago. My father is the personal servant to Lord Garrus and goes with him to every meeting, function, and party. He’d recently been to a meeting of the Clan Lords with Lord Garrus and when the pair returned home, both were extremely upset. Father wouldn’t go into much detail, but he was positively livid. A week or so later, Lord Garrus invited our family to dine with him at his table: a most gracious offer. My father accepted immediately and brought us all with him. Perhaps he was hoping one of us would catch the eyes of Lord Garrus’ sons, or perhaps he was merely being polite. Either way, we all came in our best dress.
“Dinner came and we all enjoyed each other's company while the servants brought Roast Quail for the main course. It’s one of Father’s favorites. We enjoyed the light meal and spoke for a time longer before Father asked to be excused. He wasn’t feeling well and he certainly didn’t look well.” Tears misted Avalon’s eyes as she recalled the events. “He rose from the table only to collapse on the floor in pain. You can guess what had happened.”
“Hemlock,” Grif said.
“Virtually undetectable. And using quail, too. A very classic move for meat eaters.” Pensword snorted in irritation.
“Lord Garrus was taken to a safe place and my father was taken to our healers. … There wasn’t much they could do. They told us father would be dead by morning and expressed their condolences. My mother wailed, as did my sisters. My brothers drew their blades and left the room. Certain servants would not live long enough to regret their mistake, let alone their betrayal. I ran, too, but not for weapons. Weapons couldn’t save my father. Neither could the healers. If I was going to save him, I had only one option left to me.”
“Magic,” Grif said.
Avalon nodded. “And hasty magic at that. I raced to my room and took the book from its hiding place, throwing it onto my bed. I tore through the pages, flipping as quickly as my talons could manage in search of something, anything to save him. It took me ten precious minutes to find what I needed.” She walked over to the stump and opened the grimoire carefully to about three quarters through the book. There, ancient Gryphon characters surrounded what appeared to be a visual diagram of the parts involved in the creation of a focus. Several warning symbols adorned the page as she held it up to show the four witnesses present.
“I knew it would be dangerous, but if I could save my father, it would be worth it.” She closed the book and returned to her narration. “I quickly memorized the ingredients I would need and went to work. I needed three main ingredients to forge the focus: A large quartz stone, a housing framework, and a core that I could insert into the Quartz itself to represent the aspect of the magic I wished to cast. For the core, I ran to the kitchens looking for healing herbs. When I couldn’t find any, I took a head of garlic and left.
“When I returned to my room, I immediately took my dagger and began to saw away at my bedpost until I’d removed one of the wooden rings that had been a part of its design. Rushing back to the book, I hastily copied and carved the runes that would be necessary into the wood on both sides, trying to even out the rough edges at the same time so the housing could be smooth and symmetrical. When that was finished, I ransacked my own room, searching for something, anything that would have enough quartz to be the housing for my core. Unfortunately, quartz, while very shiny, is also incredibly cheap. I had sapphires, rubies, even a couple of diamonds, but no quartz, and no gems large enough to fulfill the requirements.
“I didn’t know what else to do, so I got down on my knees and prayed to the winds for aid. I was still praying when an annoying tapping at my window finally got my attention. I chose to ignore it for a time until it grew too insistent. I went to my window and opened it, ready to kill the offending creature. I almost did until I saw what it was standing on. Its scaly yellow legs and red tipped wings hovered over a massive chunk of Quartz. It was exactly what I needed. The Merlin screeched once in my face, then darted off.
“I darted too, only to my bed, rather than to the skies. I set to work hacking and striking the quartz, doing my best to round it out into the sphere it needed to be. Then, laying it on the bed, I placed the garlic over it and began to chant the incantation that would make the two one. This was the hard part, considering I had to speak each word clearly and exactly. You can guess how difficult that was for me under the circumstances. I held the book close to my face as I carefully read each word. A mixture of green and white light glowed in front of me, but I dared not look. Not when the spell wasn’t complete. I prayed I’d gotten it right when I uttered the last syllable and lowered the book. There was the core, whole and waiting. Then came the tricky part.”
“The housing,” Grif said.
“Yes, the housing. Normally the creation of a proper focus takes days, sometimes weeks to accomplish because the bonding agent between the housing and the core needs to set and cure. I didn’t have days, I had hours, maybe even minutes for all I knew. Or worse yet …” She trailed off and shuddered, not even willing to bring herself to say what had occurred to her mind. “So I took a risk. I did the one thing I could think to do and took some twine from my lady’s sewing room. I hastily tied it around the housing and the core, shaping it in the form of an elementary binding rune before I tied it off.”
“And then you ran to your father,” Kal’leam said, surprising everyone with the gentility in his voice.
“Yes, then I went to my father. I flew as fast as my wings could carry me.” Avalon bowed her head. “The healers would not bar me as I entered the room. My brothers stood over my father as he gave each of them his blessing. I saw the wind rustling his feathers. I knew … I knew …” Tears had formed in her eyes. Tears that Grif knew only too well as he too recalled a dying Gryphon in pain and the blessing he had given him alongside his bow.
“His time was coming,” Cheshire said. Avalon nodded.
“He looked so worn. His crest was limp, his face and voice ravaged by the effects of the poison. I remember mother reprimanding me for leaving father’s side. Father managed to calm her though and called me over to him. He wanted to say his last goodbyes and I was the only one left.” She chuckled. “Last one born, and last to see him off. The world is funny like that.”
“So what happened?” Pensword asked, unable to keep his silence any longer as Avalon’s voice worked its magic.
“He wanted to give me his final blessing and his last instructions. You know the ritual, Grif.” Grif nodded grimly. “He did the same with me and told me to follow my heart, to defy any restraint others sought to place upon me. And then he smiled. He said I would marry for love and nothing less, and my marriage would be one of honor and resolution.
“‘I can’t. I won’t. Not without you to give me away,’ I said. I remember his chuckle and the pain it caused him as he wept. He could hardly move then.
“‘I will be there, dear Avalon,’ he said. ‘But it must needs be in spirit.’
“‘It doesn’t have to be.’ I wept openly. The death of a loved one is one of the few times any show of weakness is acceptable in our culture, for in mourning loss, one is merely showing the measure of one’s love and respect for the person who passed before.
“‘Nothing can be done, Avalon. The poison has taken its course, and it’s time for me to join my father and mother on the winds,’ he said.
“‘Not without a fight, winds help me,’ I said, laying my hand over his heart. I held the focus there and slowly brought my magic to bear for the first time.” Avalon paused to gather her thoughts.
“Calling up magic and using it … it’s a difficult thing to describe. Sometimes it’s like a steady drip of water into a basin and other times it’s like a sudden squall bursting on you in flight. Sometimes it burns and other times it cools. But every time I’ve used it, it’s never hurt. To this day I still don’t know how to describe what went through me that night. I cast the words in my mind and let my desire flow through the focus. It grew hot in my hand, but I refused to let go, even as golden light shot between my fingers. It felt as if something broke inside me. I suppose exploded would be a better term. Everything felt … different, I guess you could say. Like I was seeing the world with a new set of eyes. I could feel the winds, feel the life around me, see the magic in the air. It was … incredible. And then it was gone and everything went black.”
“What happened next?” Kel’leam asked.
Avalon shrugged. “I woke up. I was in bed in the infirmary. Mother was there, and so were my sisters and brothers. They all just stared at me. Some of them were stoic, some of them angry, and others still bewildered.
“‘Where is father?’ I asked. Nobody answered. ‘Mother, where is father?’ I asked again.
“‘Sleeping,’ she finally said. ‘In his room.’
“‘Thank the winds it worked.’ No sooner had the words left my mouth when my mother slapped me, then clutched me against her breast.
“‘What were you thinking?’ she wept. I remember those tears as they fell on my shoulder. ‘You could have died. You still can.’ I faced a lot of reprimands to follow, and I learned just how deadly my choice had been not just for me, but for the clan as a whole. If word of what I had done, what I had accomplished, were ever to get out, everyone would be at risk. I later discovered the magic had not left me entirely untouched as well. When I was born, my eyes were a bright purple. After the incident, my eyes turned gold, the same as the light from the spell. When I was allowed to return to my bed, the grimoire was waiting for me. After much thought and prayer, I decided it would be best to keep the book hidden and learn the art for myself. I care for my family, and for our clan, but that book came to me for a reason, and I intend to find out why. The only way I see how is to keep learning from it and practicing until I get the answer.”
“And what of your father? What did he have to say?” Grif asked.
“As far as I’m aware, he doesn’t know. He remembered what happened, but he thought it a gift from the winds and that that was the end of it. He called my golden eyes a blessing. Ever since then, I’ve been practicing behind his and my family’s backs. I’ve been treated as his little girl in every way, including the occasional guard request when I’m not with my mistress.” She smiled ruefully. “I think he wants to keep me safe forever.”
Grif stared at Avalon long and hard. “Leave us,” he requested. Pensword nodded his head as he and the others left. “Well, Avalon, you’ve put me in quite the dilemma,” Grif said as he rose to his feet and walked over to her. “On the one hand, I can’t let you keep going around all cloak and dagger like this. On the other, I cannot draw attention for you because it would mean your death.” Grif picked up the focus from the stump and opened her talons before placing it in them and closing her fingers over it. “Go to your home, pack the things that mean the most to you, and say your goodbyes.” He stepped back. “Tomorrow, Lord Farflyer will be hosting a feast in honor of my recovery. After I have made peace with him, I will be talking to your father.”
Avalon gaped. “Talking to my father?”
“If you’d please examine your hand,” Grif said, alerting avalon to the strange weight that seemed to have appeared there. A large ring adorned her finger and she gawked at it, nearly letting her focus drop to the floor in her shock.
“Avalon Farflyer, will you marry a very stupid, very foolish Gryphon?” Grif asked her, smiling for the first time since she’d entered the tent.
“No,” she said, and Grif’s beek dropped open. “I won’t marry a very stupid, very foolish Gryphon.” She walked up to him and flicked his beak shut with a talon. “But I will marry a very kind, very wise, and very understanding Gryphon who I thought would never accept a girl like me in a million years.”
Grif smiled. “Good, cause there’s been something I’ve wanted to do since I clapped eyes on you.” Sweeping her into his arms, he kissed her.
Trixie led Vital Spark down the halls deeper than Vital Spark thought they should be going, a fact he had voiced several times during the walk until they came into a small half circular room with four doorways. “This will be the room. Today you shall get a personal performance from the entertaining and spellbinding Trixie!” Trixie threw up her hooves, creating puffs of blue smoke as she did.
“Trixie, I know you want to cheer me up and all, but --”
“Nonsense!” Trixie said. “Trixie has everything under control,” she said, trying to summon a bouquet of flowers, only for flower blossoms to explode all over the room.
Against his will, Vital Spark smirked and barely suppressed a chuckle. “Um … was that supposed to happen?” he asked. The light, cheerful personality Trixie had seen earlier had all but vanished and a dark paul seemed to have come in its place, but for that one moment, a bit of that cheerful Unicorn shined through like a cloud opening to let the sun in before closing again.
Trixie started a moment as she realized that she actually hadn’t taken offense at the smile, despite it being at her expense. Could it be she really was changing? Or was it more out of a sense of pity for what Vital Spark had to face? In a sense, Trixie could relate to what he was going through. She had nearly done the same thing when corrupted by the Dark Alicorn Amulet. But even corrupted, she hadn’t had to kill. Changeling invaders didn’t mean much to her, so the accidental crushing didn’t phase her too much, but Vital Spark was different. He did care, and it hurt him in a very deep place. For some reason, that didn’t sit right with Trixie. Could this be pity as well? No, not pity. Pity was linked to her pride. This was something else. Could it be … compassion? Fellowship even?
“Trixie always thought power would answer all her problems.” Trixie sighed. “But now Trixie has all the power she could need and she can’t even pick up a glass without crushing it.”
“We walk a fine line, don’t we? I don’t get powerful unless my emotions get too strong. But when they do … well, you saw what happened,” Vital said.
“It saved Trixie’s life. That doesn’t make you a monster.” Trixie lit her horn to pick up the blossoms only for her to stop suddenly, her eyes catching a stone figure near the edge of the room. A layer of fine powder and dust littered the floor surrounding the Unicorn. Based on the style of its mane, she was clearly a mare and a detailed stone cloak fluttered and folded around her mid-billow. Her tired eyes gazed blankly ahead and a series of cracks raced up her horn, giving the appearance of it falling apart along with her health. Deep bags had been carefully carved beneath the eyes and the expression on her face bespoke utter exhaustion.
“Huh. That’s actually really good. Depressing, but well carved. My compliments to the artist,” Vital Spark said.
“She’s still alive,” Trixie said, her horn lighting.
“Wait, what?”
“There is a Unicorn in there,” Trixie repeated, “And she is still alive.”
“Like Hammer Strike and the others? But the only one who could cast that spell was Star Swirl the Bearded.”
Trixie examined the statue. Her eyes caught sight of something under the stone cloak. She traced the details of the pendant with her hoof. “Impossible.”
“What is it?” Vital asked, leaning in to examine what she’d found. “Wait just a minute …” Vital said. “That cannot be what I think it is.”
“That was the star sapphire of Sevra Scaleback,” Trixie said. “Given to Clover the Clever as a personal gift. It never left her neck.”
“Was this pendant common knowledge?”
“It’s ancient Unicorn history. Trixie’s parents were very adamant about her education.”
“So it wasn’t common knowledge,” Vital said. Trixie shook her head. “But how is that possible?”
“Trixie can think of only one possibility. This mare is Clover the Clever.”
“So what should we do?” Vital asked. “Should we tell someone?”
“Who can be spared?” Trixie asked. “We are under siege…” Trixie looked at the statue again, here eyes suddenly lighting up. “And we have here one of the most powerful Unicorns to ever live!” Trixie looked to Vital Spark. “Trixie knows how we can help!”
“Woah woah woah, Trixie. Clover was put in stone for a reason, and she doesn’t look so good. Let’s not try anything unless we have to.”
“Trixie… knows a spell that can save her. It will take some time to cast, but Trixie knows she can do it! Trixie can prove herself.” She put a hoof on his chest. “Will Vital Spark help Trixie?”
Before Vital Spark could answer, bells began sounding all over the base ranging from a slow, deep booming of the lower rafters to the accompaniment of higher, more frantic bells ringing in the upper towers. The many bells united to create a cacophony of noise as their peals reverberated through the stone hallways, shaking the dust from the supports above them.
“The security bells,” Vital exclaimed.
“Will you help?” Trixie pressed.
Vital darted his eyes left and right, scavenging his mind for something, anything he could use as an alternative or excuse. At last, he sighed in defeat. “What do you need me to do?”
“I’m an idiot!” Grif growled as he paced in his tent. Kel’leam and Cheshire sat on opposite corners. “Winds damn it, Grif! You know the law! You are the representative of the North East wind. The law demands she die! And what do you do? You propose!”
“Well, this is your M.O.,” Pensword muttered. “Remember Shrial. She was meant to die, and you saved her.”
“Shrial was an innocent,” Grif said. “No matter the motivation, this is still a major offense.”
“Yes, but you are not as cold or unfeeling as Gryphon Law. And question, is this Gryphon Law of today, or a thousand years ago?” Pensword snorted, flicking his left ear.
“When the evokers’ actions became public the emperor nearly suffered a revolt. So about 800 years ago the emperor declared Gryphons shouldn’t deal with magic and outlawed the practice of evoking,” Grif explained.
“Well then, just apply the laws of a thousand years ago here. Also… Need I remind you of what you own back on the Equestrian Continent? I do not see the problem.”
“And I’ve been keeping it out of Gryphon talons,” Grif responded. “Knowledge lost is doomed to resurface,” Grif reminded him.
“Permission to speak, sir?” Cheshire asked.
“We’re not military, Chesire, you know that,” Grif responded.
“I figured it was the best way to snap you out of it,” she said, shrugging casually. “Don’t know if it’s too important, but she probably saved your life, or at the very least hastened your recovery with that bauble of hers. She said your magic was down to a trickle, so she gave you some of hers. Wouldn’t a life debt cancel out your obligation in this case?” she asked as she played with her daggers.
“A life debt?” Grif considered her words carefully as his eyes wandered over to his own twin swords. In hindsight, he supposed his own thoughts on Gryphon magic could be a bit… extreme. After all, he used wind magic himself. “Alright, Cheshire, you're the highest ranked one here next to me. Counsel me on this issue.”
“Well where do you want to go?” Cheshire asked, a grin stretching across her beak that reminded Grif all too well of a certain cat from a book he read long ago.
“Okay, I guess I deserved that one,” Grif said, chuckling. “Kel’leam, as far as the Bladefeathers know, all evokers are dead. Warn anyone who saw anything that alarm blowers will be silenced to the full extent of my authority.” Grif stood up. “And then give yourselves a raise.”
“Yes, sir,” Kel’leam said, saluting as he left to spread the word. Cheshire remained behind to keep an eye on their leader.
“Pensword, you may want to get your dress uniform out of storage,” Grif said.
“My uniform is not in storeage. I actually have it being prepped for the dinner so I can wear it more.”
“Then best not get anything on it,” Grif said. “If her father agrees, the ceremony could be as soon as that very night.”
Pensword chuckled. “Do not worry, Grif. I will be ready.”
The doors had been reinforced through Trixie’s guidance with enchantments and barriers to resist entry and brute attacks, alongside a magic ward. While the mare had not been capable of casting the spells when she’d learned of them, it would seem she was quite capable at remembering the theory behind them, and that made her the perfect guide for Vital Spark. The sounds of battle and the clashing of steel could be heard down the hall. Vital found himself rooted to his spot as he focused his energy while Trixie carved the final pieces of her spell array into the stone.
“Now Trixie will start. She cannot move until she finishes the spell, so be ready,” trixie warned.
Vital’s horn was glowing as perspiration formed on his brow. “What happens if I can’t hold these wards?”
“Then you won’t have time to worry about it,” Trixie told him. She ignited her horn and the array began to glow as mana flooded the lines. When it reached Clover, the energies crackled electrically at the statue’s hooves. The eyes of the statue began to glow a silvery blue before a grey mist began to filter out of the statue and into Trixie. Trixie winced as pain arced through her body, but put her willpower into remaining silent. Vital Spark couldn’t know the price. He’d only face more guilt that way.
“Great,” Vital muttered. “I’m in the middle of a freaking videogame,” he said as he felt the first blows against his wards. “Here’s hoping I do Shining proud.”
Cracks began to form on the statue’s surface as more and more energy arced from Trixie’s horn and more more mist fled the statue’s body, flooding her own. The mist slowly grew darker and began to release an acrid stench as it entered Trixie’s body. Her fur became straw-like and thin, her mane rapidly paling.
“Trixie, how’s that spell coming?” Vital shouted as he grit his teeth. A shattering sound heralded the destruction of his first ward.
The cracks spidered outwards, covering the surface of the statue. The stone covering the horn chipped away, revealing the blue alichorn beneath.
A small explosion sounded outside as the second barrier went. “Ha! How do ya like them apples?” Vital smirked. Trixie had assured him the spells were non-lethal and would only stun.
More stone left the statue, revealing silvery-blue hair with a pure silver and dark grey striped mane. It began to move in the free air, shedding gravel like rain.
Vital’s horn was glowing at the tip now, the rest of the glow having ebbed away as the final barrier collapsed. “Trixie?” he turned and stopped, his eyes widening as he beheld the Unicorn enchantress. “Trixie, what are you doing?”
Trixie was visibly shaking as the last of the mist entered her body. Just as the door finally burst, a massive shockwave of magic erupted through the room as the stone shattered like glass, revealing an older blue Unicorn mare. Her cutie mark was a series of green stars shaped like a shamrock.
“... Where am I?” Clover asked seconds before Trixie collapsed.
“Trixie!” Vital Spark ran to the fallen Unicorn. “You big idiot, why didn’t you tell me?”
“Trixie was able to save Clover the Clever ... by taking her fate for herself,” Trixie said weakly. “V-vital Spark.” Trixie coughed blood, staining her hoof. “Was trixie a good pony ... in the end?”
“This … this isn’t …” Tears sprung anew in his eyes for the second time in twenty four hours. “... A life for a life,” he muttered. Trixie nodded weakly, smiling.
“She was … sick. Trixie fixed her … to save New Unity.” She hacked again as more blood flecked her lips. “... Did Trixie do good, Vital Spark?” she asked again, this time in scarcely more than a whisper.
Vital Spark took her to his chest as he cradled her head. “Yes, Trixie. You did good,” he choked.
Trixie coughed one last time and smiled before her eyes rolled back into her head and she slumped. The flowers she had conjured and strewn over the floor in her attempt to cheer Vital up withered and died around them, turning to dried husks. Clover the Clever bowed her head, confused, but regretful for such a young mare’s death. The aged Unicorn leaned down and with her hoof closed her eyes gently. “Walk with Faust in the Spring Meadows.” After a few moments of suitable silence, she spoke again.
“You, child, please tell me, what is happening?” Clover asked, her voice cracking, barely above a whisper as she brought a hoof to her horn.
The barred wooden doors splintered and the head of a changeling poked through, hissing as it hacked up goo that started to burn away around the hole in the door.
“You stupid foal,” Vital whispered as he continued to cradle the sickly corpse. His insides immediately went numb as he took in his surroundings with a strange sense of detachment.
“Changelings!” Clover snorted steam as she stared at the door. Lifting her back left hoof, she stomped it against the stone ground and almost as though a spark had been struck, her fur turned golden white as her mane and tail lit with flame. The first two changelings out the door literally melted before her. The next one was lifted in her magic and used as a crude cudgel against the further changelings. “Get behind me,” she told Vital Spark as she walked through the door, the limp changeling still in her grasp.
Vital didn’t want to move at first, but seeing the necessity of the act, he laid Trixie’s body on the dais where Clover once had stood and did his best to set her up peacefully. Afterwards, he walked out to the waiting Clover. He turned but once, his horn glowing bright blue as the flowers were revived, this time in a pattern of white, blue, and grey. Their scent overwhelmed the decay from before. Then the door began to repair itself as splinters and pieces reassembled themselves and the acidic damage was reversed.
He nodded only once as the door returned to its original state before he followed mutely after the Unicorn from legend. He had imagined this kind of scenario a hundred if not a thousand times in his mind before he was even dragged to Equestria. He’d lost family and loved ones before. It didn’t matter in the slightest. His imagining was nothing compared to the actual thing. Despite the fires Clover exuded, he felt cold as they passed through the halls. Mournful cries echoed from the very stones themselves as a brisk wind whistled through the cracks almost seeming to say “She’s dead. She’s dead. She’s dead.”
Pensword paused in mid motion. He shivered and he looked to his left. For a brief moment he thought he saw Trixie, but it was so quick he wasn’t sure. He looked back at the mirror as he adjusted his sash. Once that was complete he moved back to his letter and placed a postscript at the bottom asking how Trixie was doing. He paused and added in an update on the lives of the troops. He nodded at the scroll, and letting the ink dry, returned to making sure his medals were properly set.
With preparations complete, he rolled up the scroll, wrapped it with his ribbon, sealed it with wax, and imprinted it with his new seal: what was once the Commandant emblem of Fort Triumph. It had become his personal seal during the Third Gryphon War and continued to this day. He got up, wrapping the scroll with his wing and walked towards Grif’s tent. “Knock, Knock. I got my letter, and a few others from the other Thestrals.”
“They're all addressed?” Grif asked “I don’t want Shrial having to sort through a mess of letters and then have to try and hunt down random Thestrals.”
“They are. Most of them are sketches of Cutie Marks, a holdover from the times in the caves, so you do not need to worry about misplaced letters.” He paused as he waited for a moment, making sure no others were nearby. He lowered his voice. “Grif, a warning. I think I saw Trixie for a moment. I hope everything is okay, but I did ask if there is a problem at home.”
“I’m sure you’re just tired,” Grif said as he struck his lighter. “You’ve had a long few days anyway.”
“I hope you are right, but I am going to still be on guard.” He shook his head with a snort. “I would rather be ready in case things are real, but I hope you are right, Grif. I hope you are right.”
“Well, not much we could do about it at the moment anyway,” Grif reminded him. “We can’t fly across the ocean under our own power.” He took the letters from Pensword and placed them next to the one he had written Shrial as well as three shark tooth necklaces. He placed the zippo so the flame contacted the bottom of the pile and the whole mess vanished in green flames.
“Agreed, but I would rather have the knowledge of back home.” Pensword flexed a wing. “If nothing else, so I know who to march against the moment we get back.” He took a slow, steady breath in and out. “Well, ready for this meeting, I guess.”
“Hey, I’m the one with the right to be nervous here,” Grif said, checking his armor one last time. “You're not the one who may be married by the end of the night.”
Pensword nodded. “Grif, I am nervous. This is the first time I have left my daughter with my wife on what is a very dangerous business trip. My father did a lot when I was younger, so I can relate a little, but still, I worry about my family,” He admitted. “And I would rather not think too much on how this clan might see ‘The Demon.’”
“And I have had to leave my, by this point, very pregnant wife behind,” Grif reminded him. “We’re in this together, okay?”
“Indeed,” Pensword responded, “which is why I am admitting these concerns. You know what I am going through.”
Grif hugged him. “Isn’t that why we’re here though? So they don’t end up the victims of some war?”
“Agreed,” Pensword responded as he returned the hug. “Still, when should we make our appearance? Also, question: What are you planning? I know that look. You got something planned.”
“Did you see Garrus’ belt?” Grif asked .
“Grif, I have not been near any of the Farflyers. I was more focused on the Gryphons around us, so I think I got a quick look, but nothing too concrete. I assume it is important?”
“It’s the belt of Bellith the Blessed,” Grif told him as he unstrapped the black bow and held it out. “Bellith was the twin brother to Galan the Black. The brothers were part of the group who managed to kill the Diamond Dog King Olaf. Each took a gem from his crown according to their part and the gem was made into an item of great importance to the warrior. Gryphon law says that I should have recompense of equal value or lesser value only if I declare it equal, and what they cost me, what they cost Graf, can never be replaced. I intend to have the belt as my recompense.”
Pensword paused. “Grif… you are gathering together the crown jewels of the Diamond Dogs.” He sighed. “I’ll be sure to draw up battle plans against any packs that attack us.” He knew better than to leave things to chance in this world.
“It’s more than that,” Grif said. “These gems, when together, represent one of the greatest achievements that Gryphons have ever accomplished. Olaf was well protected, well armed, and a very skilled warrior. On top of that, he was a Dane: a very large, very powerful breed of Diamond Dog. The victory was quite possibly the one time gryphons fought together without outside reason or divine mandate.” Grif sighed. “The avatar is supposed to change something about the Gryphons of the age, I geuss…. I’m hoping seeing the collection together might inspire us to be better.”
“Well, if it does, may this bring a unified front, and not a desire to fight and claim it for petty reasons. Still, if this can bring about a future where I can bury the wingblades against the Gryphons, you have my support, Grif.” Pensword looked to a corner of the tent, zoning out as he recalled the past. “Also, sorry about the Submission Ritual, but that was the only way I could see to heal the rift that I caused between your--excuse me, our troops and restore unity with the Crystal Guards.”
“Don’t apologize. You’re making the Canadian look bad.” Grif laughed as he stood tall. “Shall we mingle?”
“We shall,” he responded, then smiled. “When we return to--well, when we visit Earth, I shall have to see Canada.”
“I think I’d like that.” Grif winked.
The Farflyers had set the great hall lavishly. Banners of both the Bladefeathers and the Farflyers lined the room, the silver and green of Grif’s colors contrasting well to the black and blue of Garrus’. The tables were placed out and laid with a lavish spread. Deer, boar, all types of wild fowl, and, much to Grif’s surprise, even Gryphonian snow hare, which was rare and considered a delicacy. A separate table of vegetables had been laid for the crystal ponies, though out of tradition, Bellacosa was seated at the head table with the other special guests.
As they walked in, Grif had noticed right away the cold looks that his Gryphons were casting on the Farflyers. The Farflyers themselves, to their credit, did their best to look unbothered as they attempted to politely treat their guests.
Deciding to make an entrance before things got ugly, Grif took a pair of goblets from a passing server and handed one to Pensword before roaring loudly for attention. The room went quiet instantly as all eyes turned to Grif. He looked to Garrus, politely waiting for his approval to speak. Garrus nodded his head in ascent and looked on as he awaited what was to come.
“To you, Lord Farflyer.” Grif lifted the goblet in the air. “I know things have started rocky between us, on no small part due to my own mind set. I pray when business is concluded tonight there will be strong ties between our clans. I thank you for your aid in the ugly matter of these past two days and for the use of your healer. I drink to you and your health.” He spoke in gryphic for the benefit of the troops. To Pensword, the sound almost resembled a toucan.
Pensword waited for Garrus to sip before he would sip from his own drink. He was trying his best to be on his best behavior. A dinner like this was just another battlefield, but he hoped it would end on a little lighter note than it had started.
Grif went to his seat not far away from Garrus’ own under a larger version of his clan’s banner. Between them, Bellacosa sat, but on the other side of Garrus was his family. Grif moved his eyes in their direction, realizing he had yet to truly see the lord's heirs, or his spouses.
Farther down at the end of the table, Grif caught sight of Avalon as she whispered with a gryphoness he assumed to be her lady and other extended family. A few of her brothers nodded at Grif as they noted his expression, though their other talons hovered over their swords and their fingers twitched. Avalon turned and gave them a glare and they relented, though still looked uncomfortable. The ring that had adorned her talon earlier was gone for now, but Grif could understand why she would keep it hidden. He had yet to arrange the marriage. To wear such a symbol too soon would draw her father’s ire, even if it was the Avatar of Winds asking her hand. Avalon giggled and winked once at Grif on the sly before returning to gossipping with her mistress. She blushed when Garrus’ daughter whispered in her ear and suddenly found her plate extremely fascinating.
Grif served himself a little bit from all the offered dishes. Eating heartily, he encouraged Pensword to do the same. The Bladefeathers had begun to feel at ease as they watched their leader enjoying the hospitality and soon the feast had truly begun.
Pensword looked to his men and made sure they saw him take the first bite of his food, thus giving them permission to eat as well. He returned to looking at the meal and slowly let a few of his wing muscles relax. He had to admit, these Gryphons knew how to cook. To avoid causing conflict, he decided to remain silent as he carefully observed his surroundings. A sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach told him he would like have to speak more after dinner during the mingling.
As the feasting reached its height and many were enjoying the festivities, Grif turned to Garrus. “I believe, Lord Farflyer, it is time we settled accounts for a better future, I have thought long and hard about how we may come to terms, and as you know, the debt between us can not be fully repaid in full save by blood, but I hope my solution may at least be more palatable to you.”
“And what did you have in mind, Grif? I thought you would have preferred to discuss this in private,” Garrus said curiously as he drank his wine.
“Has the law changed so much in a thousand years?” Grif asked “I was taught it was custom for these matters to be handled before the clan.”
“It depends on the matter of the price. I assume you intend to lessen it, judging by the sound of things. The question is to what degree.”
“When my father left, the artifacts of the twins Galan and Bellith were separated. I mean to reunite them, Lord Farflyer. For my price, I request the belt of Bellith the Blessed.”
The room fell completely silent. “You do realize what you’re asking, Grif,” Garrus said, his expression grave.
Grif looked at him. “What your grandfather took from me was more than just my father. Had Graf still remained a Farflyer, I would have been as well. I would have had a proper education, a future amongst my peers. My father, and my future. The belt does not begin to scratch the proper value of both.”
Garrus rumbled as he considered Grif’s words. “Tradition dictates that I pass the belt to one of my children. Yet you speak truth, Grif. Many things were stolen from you that you should have had a right to.” He looked to the clan, then to his children and wife, then to himself. “If I know my clan, they would rather keep the gem, and the belt, within the family. They would not relinquish it easily.” A rumble of approval swept through the crowd. “However,” Garrus raised a talon. “It might not be entirely impossible to negotiate so both sides are satisfied.”
“And what might you suggest, Lord Farflyer?” Grif asked, his eyebrow raising slightly.
“A marriage. Not only will it allow our clans to have further cemented relations, but it will also make you a part of the family, and thus, give you a right to hold the belt, even if you are not a direct descendant of the brothers by blood. I would also like to add, there will be no oaths of fealty required of you. Your clan will not be a subsidiary in any way. I wish to be allies, not a dutchy. Would that be satisfactory?”
“Marriage is a large decision, Lord Farflyer.” Grif’s eyes shifted to Avalon as he spoke the next words. “And not one I make lightly.”
“Is that a no, then?”
“There is only one in your clan I would marry.” Grif looked to Avalon and gestured her over to him. Avalon stood and boldly made her way past the table, her once passive and submissive demeanor falling aside like a veil as she strode over to Grif. All the gryphons gaped as she took her place beside Grif and handed him the ring, which he promptly slid over her finger. More than one of Garrus’ daughters glared at her from their seats, save the one Gryphoness she had sat next to. Her mistress looked fearful, but happy.
“Lord Farflyer, I wanted to put this matter to rest tonight so that I may request the blessing of the father of Avalon Farflyer,” Grif stated. “The healer who saved my life, and helped me realize the stupidity of my actions when we met.”
The room was silent yet again as Garrus stood. One of his mates attempted to lay an arm to restrain him, but he shook his head and gently pushed it back. He slowly approached the couple as he looked first to Grif, then to Avalon. Then he smiled and chuckled, soon breaking into a full throated laugh which brought him to tears.
“May I ask what the joke is?” Grif asked politely, albeit a little coldly.
“I’m sorry, Grif,” Garrus said as he forced himself to regain his composure. “You said you wished to take the matter before her father. Then let’s take this to closed quarters, shall we? Your demands may be for the clan, but a marriage contract is the father’s affair.” The laughter continued to shine in his eyes, even as he smiled.
“I’m sorry, what?” Grif asked.
“It seems my daughter is more sly than her sisters give her credit for.” Garrus smirked. “You have just asked for the hand of my youngest daughter: Avalon Rowena Du Lake Farflyer.”
The light blue momentarily overtook the dark in Grif’s eyes as one confused word came from his beak. “Nani?”
The Changelings had shown that the small frontal attacks were just probes. It was now easily a battle. Chrysalis had entered the battlefield with a shield around her, most likely taken from her time with Shining Armor. It was what allowed them to finally breach the gate and part of the wall was now covered by the dome. It was slowly expanding.
The troops were fighting hard, and while the thrust into the Gryphon Compound had ended, it just meant that the Changelings were reinforcing the attack upon New Unity.
“Forward, my Changelings,” Chrysalis cried out. “This day will be ours!”
In front of New Unity, apart from the ponies around Hammer Strike, the Rohirrim had formed two lines in full armor. The changelings outnumbered them three to one, but Rook was certain they could buy the time needed to come up with a counter strategy.
“Forth! Down, fear of death! Arise, arise chargers of Grif! Spears shall be shaken! Chitin shall be splintered! A sword day! A red day! And the enemy encroaches! charge now! charge now! Charge! Charge for Unity and the world’s changing! Death!” Black Rook screamed as he turned and charged the changelings. The rohirrim thundered behind him, echoing his cry.
From the air, the Dream Clan and flyers from the Gryphon Slayers were engaged in aerial combat for air superiority, their metal wing blades and swords slicing through the Changelings’ membraned wings. Night Prism rolled around a Changeling bucking with his hind legs. “There’s just no end to these guys,” He yelled joyfully, a grin settling in on his muzzle. “This is going to be Ace Combat.”
Green and red blood filled the air and stained the ground as ponies locked in combat with their enemy. Changelings were impaled upon lances and swords or broken under the weight of heavy maces and hammers. Ponies fell to the horns and teeth and massive insectoid strength of their foes.
A plan came to Hammer Strike’s mind. With a small grin on his face he charged towards Chrysalis and her shield. After a few short moments he found himself fifteen meters from the barrier. “Stop!” he yelled.
He jumped into the air, bringing his right foreleg back as he reached the pinnacle of his jump. “Hammer time,” he finished, smirking as he brought his hoof down on her shield with a mighty crack. Ugly green lightning lashed out from the bubble. Slowly, cracks began to spread across the shield as Chrysalis’ eyes widened.
“Impossible!” She exclaimed as she pumped more magic into the field, only to watch in dismay as the cracks continued to spread. “No. No, no!” The shield began to buckle under the pressure. “Inconceivable!” She shrieked as the barrier burst, shattering to bits. Fragments fell on the heads of her loyal followers before disappearing back into the aether, further diminishing and disorienting her forces.
“I think we’ve made a real breakthrough, Chrysalis,” Hammer said, a smirk still on his face.
“JUST WHO ARE YOU?” She roared as she launched a deadly beam of green magic at the earth pony. “I want the Humans!”
Hammer Strike simply took a step to the left. The beam crashed into the ground where he once stood and the patch melted under the onslaught. It continued to dig at the ground hitting the stone wall, damaging it as well until Chrysalis cut the power.
“The name is Hammer Strike, and I’m sorry to say, but we have higher priorities on our list, so if you could just get lost, that’d be great. But if you don’t want to, don’t worry, I’m sure we can set up a nice funeral for you .”
She smiled as another wave of Changelings came from the woods. “I’ll overrun you all and put you in feeding cocoons!” She growled as she leaped back, raising the barrier again, only to pause in confusion. A pony shaped impression jutted against her shield. She grinned and formed the shield around him.
Hammer Strike grinned back. “Oh, I love it when they resist,” he said as blue fire burst from his hooves.
In the air, the Changelings were starting to gain the upper hoof. The Gryphon Slayers were moving back, however a few flyers from the first class that had been taught by the Humans were standing their ground. One Thestral was weaving in and out, using the wing blades to cut through the chitin and leaving wounds all over the place, doing his best to buy time. He grunted as one turn brought pain to his wing. He was really pushing his limbs. Sensing his weakness, three changelings charged simultaneously, pushing him into the same move, only tighter and harder. He grunted in pain as his wing locked up and he spiraled down. He nearly panicked until he forced himself to focus on the ground. He took a breath in and out and landed with a trot, running over a fallen changeling before a second divebombed him. He felt the scratches, but he got up despite the fatigue and quickly began to swing around his new opponent. Finishing off his foe, he turned at the sound of thundering hooves. He saw more Changelings coming from the woods. “How many bugs are there?” He yelled before lowering his head and moving to attack again.
Rook had been separated from the rest of the Rohirrim and he was already noting where the fight was going. The club he wielded had grown heavy in his hooves and he was surrounded at all times. Still, he swung onward, every blow leading to a thud and another Changeling dead on the ground. This style of club was so efficient, yet so misleadingly thin. Without realizing it, Rook found his mind wandering. Grif had been right to suggest it to him. What was that name again? A kinabo? kanabo? Rook realised what he was doing and shook himself as he fought onwards. Finally he was tackled from above and his club went rolling. More changelings moved to restrain him, spewing goo to seal his hooves together.
“The queen says not to kill him. He is a captain. He is useful,” a larger, somewhat spiker changeling said as one of the underlings was about to go for the kill. Instead, the changeling smacked Rook’s head with it’s hoof, rendering the world black.
The barrier surrounding Hammer Strike warped and swelled, disfiguring the appearance of the Pony it held captive as his magic raged within like a cartoon detonation. Eventually the barrier burst like one of Pinkie Pie’s confetti balloons and Hammer Strike was free. He casually dusted off a hoof as he looked to the Changeling Queen expectantly.
“How? How are you doing this?” Chrysalis glared. “I defeated Celestia! A mere Earth Pony can’t possibly stand against me.”
“Well, this mere Earth Pony is going to hit you so hard your children are going to feel it.”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
“Chrissy, you have no idea who you’re talking to, but you should.”
“I fear no pony,” she snarled back.
“I’m no pony,” Hammer started as the flames grew around him, it’s color turning into a dark blue. “I’m your greatest nightmare,” he finished, his tone as dark as his grin.
Chrysalis smirked, then she chuckled before breaking into full on maniacal laughter. “A nightmare, you say? You look more like a candle to me.” Her eyes narrowed. “Now you’re going to do exactly as I say, or I’ll have my changelings dispatch one of your precious captains. You wouldn’t want that, now, would you?”
“What do you want?”
“I want those humans you’re protecting. Give them to me!”
“I’m surprised. I didn’t know you were deaf,” Hammer told her. “When I took you through the window, did it damage your hearing?”
“You!” Chrysalis seethed as the connection finally clicked. She hit him with the full force of her hate filled glare. Just then, a tiny flaming pebble smacked against her muzzle before it fizzled out on the ground next to her. “What--?”
Thunder retorted above them as the sky filled with black clouds that looked almost like ash. With a roar, a fireball the size of a soccer ball launched from the sky, slamming into a changeling near Chrysalis, then another larger fireball, then another still larger until the clouds seemed to rain down with the very flames of Tartarus. Magic was clearly at work as none seemed to hit a single pony.
“Chrysalis!” a voice roared as two changelings and one drone went flying over her head. “I’ve got a bone to pick with you!” With horn blazing like the star on his flank, Vital Spark advanced. A shield spell had been cast close behind him where an unconscious Black Rook lay. A yellowish white Unicorn with a fiery mane and tail strode next to him as they walked together, her amulet reflecting the flames in her form.
She narrowed her eyes for a moment before they widened. “Impossible!” She stepped back, jerking her head as the remaining Changelings began to fall back, retreating as some took to the air. Chrysalis soon followed them. “You might have bested me this time, but I will return!” She swore as she retreated with her hive. The siege had been broken. The ponies had won.
Silver Spear turned from his post, where he had been backed into the corner. He paused as he blinked. “Impossible.” He muttered as the flaming horse closed her eyes and the fires died to reveal her original blue and grey coat coloration. “But--” He paused. “She was hiding in that stone statue?”
“Soldier, there are dead who need to be prepared for burial or cremation immediately,” Clover said, turning crisply to Silver Spear. “See to it.”
Silver Spear nodded his head with a salute. “Gryphon Slayers on me,” he ordered. He began moving as soldiers formed up around him. He made a grimace at the Unicorn lying dead at the bottom of the steps. “Stone Block,” he muttered. He slowly waved his horn in a pattern over the body before moving forward.
“Lord Hammer Strike.” Clover turned to the Earth Pony lord and nodded. “I hope I wasn’t intruding, but it seemed like your troops were tired.”
“I’m glad you showed up when you did, Clover. New Unity isn’t what it used to be.” He sighed before turning to Clover. “You were put in stone long ago. Who was able to bring you out and cure you?”
“A young mare. She was blue, but it appeared she was having trouble with dark magic corruption. She absorbed the poison and took my place. ... I was unable even to learn her name before she died.”
“Her name was Trixie,” Vital Spark said as the light of his horn died. The pain in his eyes was only too clear as the anger died. “She was prideful, arrogant, stupid … but she changed at the end. Well … except maybe on that last one.” The tears fell even as he looked to Hammer Strike. “Guess you couldn’t protect me after all, huh, Hammer Strike?”
Hammer Strike gaze turned towards the forest and sighed heavily. “Death follows us all. There was never a way to avoid it, only to delay it.”
“What year is it, Lord Hammer Strike?” Clover asked. “How long have I slept?”
“It’s been a little over a thousand years.”
Clover gasped in a manner very similar to a certain purple Alicorn. “Discord’s seal is going to break! We have to prepare,” she responded as she moved to pull out an inkwell, phoenix feather pen, and a roll of parchment to write a letter.
“Already dealt with him, and threatened to kill him if he didn’t play nice,” Hammer replied.
“You did?” She asked, dumbfounded. “Then what about Nightmare Moon?”
“Already been cleansed,” Vital said.
“.... The crystal empire, did that come back as well?” Clover asked with a level gaze.
“That’s how we got to where we are now,” Hammer continued.
“The building war with the Gryphons?” She turned and yelped as two Gryphons flew over her head.
“Conquered and dealt with in the usual style,” Vital alternated.
“... The minotaur’s conflict with the Zebricans?” she asked, grasping at straws.
“Done with.”
“Yakyakistan?” she started.
“Hey,” Hammer Strike said suddenly. “You know what the Doctor says about spoilers.”
“Ah, so that time period.” She looked to Vital. “Would you please fetch Trixie’s body? I have some things to say to Lord Hammer Strike.” Vital nodded numbly as he clopped back to the castle.
She spoke the next question in Draconic. “So, who wields the elements?”
“Six ponies wield them: Twilight Sparkle, Applejack, Rarity Belle, Fluttershy, Pinkie Pie, and Rainbow Dash,” Hammer replied, pausing with each name, translating it into Draconic.
“Well, I must say, I hope this Sparkle is better than the Sparkles in the past. Arrogant herd, the lot of them. Are they still nobles?”
“Most nobles are better now…” Hammer started before he paused. “Correction, they are still bad, but aren’t really a threat.”
“Good,” Clover responded. “Celestia finally defanged them. They never let me do my research in peace. Had to take up with that time traveler just to get a spell done.”
“Helps that I knocked them down a few pegs.”
“TRIXIE!” Twilight materialized in a purple flash.
“Twilight, now really isn’t the best time,” Hammer Strike called out as he turned towards her.
“Hammer Strike, Trixie teleported here, is she ok? Was she hurt in the battle?” Twilight asked.
“I know she teleported here. I sent her into the keep to keep her from harm, but she sought it out herself.”
“What happened?” Twilight frowned as she fluffed her wings in agitation.
“She’s dead,” Hammer told her bluntly.
Twilight sat down in shock, crushing the body of one of the changelings. “But, no.” She shook her head. “Nonononononono” She repeated to herself over and over again. “I was going to apologize to her. I was even going to teach her what I learned about Friendship.”
“Your friend was very brave.” Clover laid a hoof on Twilight’s shoulder. “I only wish I could have known her better.”
“She--” Twilight furrowed her brow. “I want to attend her funeral.” She looked hard at Hammer Strike. “After that, I want your battle mages to teach me all they know. I will not let another of my friends stay in danger. And after I get a grasp on things, I want a sparring match.”
“Sparring match with who?” Hammer asked.
“Everypony I can. I plan to go longer than Celestia eventually against you.” She stomped a hoof. “If I knew more, maybe this wouldn’t have happened.”
“Battle magic will only get you so far,” Clover said. “But if you want to learn, I’ll teach you.”
“Then I am your student,” Twilight responded, her expression grave.
Clover’s horn ignited and in a flash a staff appeared in the air, hovering in her magic. It was made of wood with a blue orb imbedded in the far end. Tendrils wrapped around to hold it in place. On the opposing end was a large, rounded spiked ball. The ancient Unicorn gave the staff a few experimental waves before idly tossing a fireball at hammerstrike to test its enchantments.
“Remind me, why do you constantly hit me?” Hammer questioned.
“Because you can take it.” She smiled. “World of cardboard, remember?”
“No.”
“You will.” Clover smirked.
Hammer Strike felt a tap on his shoulder. A slight chill went through his body. “Huh, trying to stop my heart again, Death?” He asked as he turned to look at the figure to his left.
“I did,” the cloaked figure responded from behind him.
“Not you again,” Clover muttered under her breath, a slight smirk on her muzzle.
“Sorry, Death, but you’re losing your touch.”
“I cannot help if a life is exchanged for a life in magic. That is something even I can’t supersede.”
“I don’t blame you for it.” Hammer sighed. “While you’re here, how many casualties?”
“Ten dead, sixteen wounded. Six of those will not make it past the week,” Death responded as if reading from a report. “I’m sorry for your loss,” he finished in the same monotone voice.
“You’re not sorry, it’s part of your job.”
“I’m at least trying to be sympathetic.” Death frowned.
“You're just scared Hammer Strike’s gonna punch you again, aren't you?” Clover asked.
“How dare you imply that I am scared of a mortal being,” Death spoke, showing a tiny flicker of annoyance.
“Ahem,” Hammer Strike’s brows furrowed.
“... I’m Terrified,” Death squeaked.
“Who are you all talking to?” Twilight asked, confused as she walked with the others as she looked to the empty space the other two ponies were talking to.
Pensword stood by the sidelines of the clan hall as Gryphons, fledglings, and the head family alike gawked and gossipped. His troops had gathered around him, looking nervously as they did their best to remain calm. Suddenly, Pensword felt a familiar prickling down his mane as an eddy danced around his hooves. Looking to the edge of the hall, the massive door stood cracked open as the darkness waited beyond. Pensword nodded as he began to move through the hall, a small number of his troops following behind to act as escort. At last he arrived and prepared to make his way through the door.
“You three stay here,” he ordered.
“But sir!”
“No arguments, Midnight. There’s someone who wants to talk to me. I need you to guard the doors so we are not disturbed.
Midnight nodded as the gears clicked in his head. He saluted smartly, then turned around as the other two thestrals flanked him, waiting casually, even as they kept their eyes on the crowd.
Pensword steeled himself as he walked fully into the hallway, shutting the door behind him as the darkness of night surrounded him. The inside of this gryphon stronghold reminded him very much of the caves back in Equestria and helped to calm him as his eyes slitted to night vision. He looked around. “Alright, fall in and report,” he ordered as his voice carried down the halls. A black Thestral with a dark blue mane specked with silver slowly walked out of the shadows of the dark. His expression was grave and the blood on his armor told of battle.
“Commander, Lieutenant Jet Black reporting, sir.” He saluted with a wing as he stood at attention.
“At ease, Lieutenant. Report what happened,” Pensword said, taking on his most used hat, that of Commander for all Equestrian forces. “Who do I need to attack to avenge our fallen comrades?”
“Queen Chrysalis returned while you were gone and laid siege to the castle. Ten of us died in the attack. Vital Spark ... “ he faltered. “He isn’t doing so well.”
“Of course he isn’t handling it. He is a civilian. The good news is he lived through the attack, right?”
“He killed six changelings and took out two scavengers and a drone. You would have been proud.” He smiled sadly.
“Lieutenant, I can find out about Vital Spark when I return home. What I need to know is details on the battle and force strength on the Rogue Hive.” He took a steadying breath.
“She’s managed to reconstitute her forces to twice the size of her original hive. After the battle was over, her forces had been reduced by half before she retreated. Clover the Clever burned the majority of the exterior forces, and Trixie … actually, I don’t know where she is. She’s supposed to be with us, but--” he shrugged.
“She must be saying her own goodbyes,” Pensword muttered. “Still, I will give the report.” He pulled out a scroll from his saddlebag. “May I have the names of those we lost?”
While he spoke, a lone Gryphon watched in confusion from an alcove as the Demon talked to thin air writing a list.
Grif was still dazed and confused as he sat in Garrus’ study behind the large mahogany desk, staring at the Gryphon in question. Garrus tented his talons as he gazed over his desk at the young clan leader, raven to raven. The jovial expression remained for about a minute longer before he let it drop. “As humorous as your dumbfounded expression is, Grif, we have things that need to be discussed. And they need to be kept private. He flicked a crystal embedded in the perch of a Gryphon figure crouched to pounce on his desk. It quickly turned green.
“I--I’m sorry, it’s just that your daughter is a very convincing actress,” Grif said. “I wasn’t aware Gryphonia had any of the Crystal Empire’s technology,” he said as his eyes darted to the crystal.
“A relic from a bygone age made new again.” Garrus chuckled. “After the Crystal Empire vanished, our clan performed some scouting and discovered a hidden cache of crystals. It had space for three, but only two remained along with a few other artifacts. As a reward for our service and diligence, we were given one and the other relics were kept by the Emperor.”
“As of Holy Empress Warbeak, the first decree any dowry required of a marriage is to be paid to the female in question. You realise I can’t offer you money in these negotiations, correct?” Grif asked him.
“If I wanted to talk about money and dowry, do you really think I would have bothered with this?” Garrus asked, motioning to the crystal.
“Then please tell me what it is you want. Name it and you can have it.”
“I want a guarantee,” Garrus said as his eyes hardened.
“What guarantee?” Grif asked suspiciously. “If you actually think I’m trying to lea--” Garrus raised a quieting hand as he reached under his desk and flicked a secret catch. A compartment popped open and he reached in to pull out a very familiar tome. He let it drop on the table, smacking the catch shut.
“Oh. Thats what this is about,” Grif said, looking at the grimoire.
“I assume my daughter’s told you about my little event a few years back,” Garrus said. Grif nodded. “She’s been practicing again; I know it.” He sighed heavily. “Avalon was always a special girl, but now she may be the only Gryphon alive, aside from you, who can actually use magic. I want you to get her out of Gryphonia before she’s found out and as far away as possible. The Winds have plans for her, Grif.” Garrus frowned. “And maybe someone else besides. You know the law as well as I do. You know what will happen if she’s caught.”
“Unless she were in some sort of protected position.” Grif nodded. “It was why I was going to request the ceremony tonight if possible. Tomorrow if not.”
“We have to observe tradition. The wedding will be tomorrow, after the women have had time to prepare.” As he said this, the grimoire vanished with a pop and he sighed. “Gone back to her already, I see.” Then he walked over to stand by the younger Gryphon. “I’m glad we understand each other, but now we need to talk on a somewhat graver matter.”
“The same grave matter that befalls our culture every three hundred years?” Grif asked.
“Unfortunately yes,” Garrus said as he looked to the mantelpiece in his office. “Only this one is coming a couple of centuries early. You know that I was poisoned, correct?”
“I assumed that when I finally reconciled Avalon was your daughter.” Grif nodded. “I’m guessing you are a loyalist, then?”
“I am. My clan and I were ready to support the Emperor’s parents to the death if need be. The meeting of the clans was a meeting of the Kings and their subsidiaries. For services rendered, my clan and I had been granted a degree of autonomy. Our loyalties are our own, as is our land. As you can guess, the meeting focused on one thing and one thing only. Treason. I refused and managed to bluff my way out of the meet. Unfortunately, they also knew the danger I posed. If it weren’t for Avalon and the blessing of the Winds, I would have died. As it stood, I failed in my duty. Daedalus’ father was slaughtered, his mother burned at the stake. And I could do nothing.” Garrus slammed his fist against the wall. Then he sighed.
“My daughter saved my life that day, and I can still fight thanks to her. But I am not the warrior I once was. The poison left me weakened. I cannot raise my mace in the defense of the Emperor any more. At most I can only advise him.”
“Are there allies you could call to?” Grif asked, his expression grim. “If you mean to ask of me what I think you do, you need to understand I can’t assure his safety alone.”
“I wasn’t the only one poisoned. Unfortunately, unlike me, Tyrannus didn’t survive. His son will fight to the death to avenge his father’s murderers. Seek out Jorund Bloodfeather. His clan will give you aid.
Grif jolted. “What was that name?”
“Jorund Bloodfeather, head of the Bloodfeather Clan.”
“Lord Farflyer, I was there when the last of the Bloodfeather line was destroyed! The last of the Bloodfeathers became my wife recently.” He looked at Garrus in disbelief. “How?”
“The house never died, at least not truly. A distant member by the name of Duskclaw Grimfeather made claim on the title and re-established the clan. Ever since then, they’ve remained staunch supporters of the Empire, and more importantly, the Emperor.”
“That will be hard for my companion to take,” Grif said ominously. “I don’t know if you’re aware, but Jorund Bloodfeather was the name of the Gryphon who led the attack against his village. They killed and ate everyone there.” Grif looked at Garrus with a steady gaze. “I hope that Farflyers didn’t partake in such a custom during the war.”
Garrus shuddered. “Out of respect to our distant clan members of the Northern Isles, our clan refrained from the practice. But I am sorry to say many in the clan were executed for breaking the edict.” He sighed heavily.
“Your clan’s adherence to justice is admirable.” Grif nodded in approval. “Daedalus has been kind to me where he honestly should never have been. Also, it is against my belief for one so young to be cut down without a chance. If the enemy should become known to me while I am in a place to aid him, I will put my soul into his survival. Consider it a gift for my future father-in-law.” Grif smiled. “That is, assuming I do have your blessing?”
Garrus grinned. “Did you really have to ask?”
“And the belt?” Grif asked him. “It is unfortunate, but part of a larger plan.”
“Grif, I’d give anything for Avalon’s safety. And you’ve chosen to help me where I could do nothing. To keep the belt now would be selfish and petty. It’s of great value to our family, but if the Avatar of Winds needs it, I think the family can bear the burden of that honor.”
“You realise I cannot guarantee when or truly if your paths shall cross again? Our way out of the empire will likely not allow us to stop here.”
“You needn’t fear. I know the price of war only too well. Just take good care of her. Who knows, maybe I’ll even come to Equestria to visit. See how it’s changed over the last couple of centuries.”
“I would join my hand with yours in friendship, then,” Grif offered Garrus his hand. “Lord Grif Farflyer.” He smiled as he used the Gryphon’s proper name.
“Woah there, Grif, we don’t want you going too soft on me now, do we?” Garrus chuckled as he took Grif’s hand in his own. “Done, then.”
“Tomorrow at dawn. It is rushed, but it’s all the time we can spare.”
“We’ll be ready. But let’s get out and tell the good news to the rest, shall we? I’m sure they’re waiting with bated breath.” Garrus smirked.
Grif chuckled. “I can hardly wait.”
Vital Spark led Hammer Strike back along the dark passageways as they made their way through the cold stone halls of the castle. The damage the Changelings had left behind was horrendous and several sticky green stains marked the halls and walls alongside the occasional shard of chiton. At last they arrived before the door and Vital pushed it open with a hoof, holding it open wordlessly for Hammer to follow inside. The flowers were still there, untouched and beautiful as they filled the room with their gentle fragrance. Trixie lay in her silent repose, almost as if she were sleeping with her purple cape and hat.
“There she is,” Vital said.
Hammer Strike hushed him as he looked around the room, his ear twitching every now and then as he focused. Shrugging, Vital simply walked over to Trixie and watched as he recalled the events of the last twenty four hours.
“Do you hear that?” Hammer questioned Vital.
“What?” Vital asked, his eyes never leaving Trixie’s face.
“Hold your breath.”
“Seriously, Shawn?”
“Hold, it.”
Vital groaned, sighed, then did as he was told when Hammer Strike gave him his famous stare.
Hammer Strike looked around the room slowly, his eyes constantly shifting around every object and brick before they settled on Vital. His brows furrowed as he stared at him only to open his eyes wide as his gaze shifted to Trixie. He moved over quickly towards her body before leaning in closer. “Conor.”
“Shawn,” Vital said in a warning tone, “I swear, if you’re pulling my leg, I’m going to kill you.”
“She’s not dead,” he finished as he twisted the gem on his wrist, shifting to his human form. He reached a hand down towards her neck, applying faint pressure as he moved his hand around. “She has a pulse.”
Shawn looked at Vital once again. “Quick, did you learn or hear something of what was killing Clover?”
Vital shook his head sadly. “All Trixie said was to save Clover she had to take her fate, and that something was making her sick.”
“What kind of sick, what did she do to heal Clover?”
“I don’t know, alright?” Vital shouted. “She didn’t tell me. All I know is the air smelled when she drew whatever it was into her body.”
“Into her?” Shawn questioned, mainly to himself as he tapped his thumb to his fingers.
“I’m guessing. I didn’t see it. She kept quiet until I looked when the changelings were about to break through.”
Shawn’s eyes flashed blue for a brief moment as he looked at Trixie before he snapped his fingers and pointed to the door. “Quickly, get Clover and Twilight. Bring them to my forge. As fast as you can,” he said as he picked the limp Pony up, tromping over the flowers as he did so. “I’m going to prove to Death that his list isn’t always right.”
The air around New Unity was filled with a horrid stench that destroyed the appetite of anyone inside or outside the walls of the fortress. Changelings were piled together in a heap and put to flame. The enemy was given no funerary rights, no honor, just an end for those who had done so much damage and caused so much heartache.
Of the defenders of the Bladefeather compound, only one gryphon, a blacksmith who had only enough time to pick up his mace and join the front lines, had been killed. The Bladefeathers had prepared the body carefully, having oiled the feathers in a fragrant scent before wrapping it in a fresh bear hide, holding his mace between his talons with his wings cloaked over his form. He was buried below ground as incense was burned into the wind around the grave. Several pieces of chitin were placed over the body to recognise the seven changelings he had killed.
The Thestrals who had not gone with Pensword gathered in their community as they wailed over the two who had died. They would mourn for the next four days. The funeral itself would happen at Midnight, at the apex of the moon’s course through the heavens. The night sky shone brightly as a mournful, cold wind blew to clear out the stench.
While Jet Black had not been of the Dream Clan, it fell to them to bury him and notify his Clan and Tribe of his valiant efforts and where he would be laid to rest. After receiving permission from Lord Hammer Strike, four Thestral warriors dug a six foot hole that was two feet wide. Along the wall, the wing blades and spears of the fallen were lain.
The bodies themselves were laid on their backs, the leathery wings wrapped around their bodies like a cape. Each of them had two silver bits placed over their eyes. They then were wrapped individually within a tent canvas and lowered into the pit. Afterwards, their armor was lowered to lay proudly on top of them. With that finished, ceremonial bearers lowered an ornate metal plate into a cleverly carved groove three feet into the hole to seal the bodies in their makeshift tombs. Etched on the plate, radiating with the moon’s rays, were the soldiers’ names, their rank in Society, and a poem of their deeds in battle, along with a deathly warning to any who may disturb their earthly remains.
Afterwards, the friends and family would walk past and toss a carved stone representing wishes and final farewells to the departed. The sound of the stone hitting the metal was equated to a blade hitting a shield, a sign of respect to warriors of valour in recognition of their heroic actions in the line of duty. When all was said and done, eight somber Thestrals, four to each hole, proceeded to shovel the dirt midst the tears of loss. The sound of the dirt rang like thunder until the metal and stones were properly covered. Lastly, they placed a flat stone at the edge of the grave with the names of the fallen engraved on it.
The three Unicorns who had been killed in the battle had each been laid atop a large wooden pyre. Their front legs were crossed over their chests and once again a silver bit was placed over their eyes before they were covered in a shroud bearing the mark of the squad in which they had served. The unicorns closest to each victim approached the pyre and lit it with their magic as they prayed a safe journey for their souls to Faust in the Spring Fields where they could rest from all cares.
The remaining troops sighed with some relief, knowing that those to whom the duty of lighting the Pyre had fallen were already in New Unity, either for a visit, or settling in to live. To Unicorns, the longer they waited to light the Pyre, the longer it denied their loved one entrance into the Spring Fields, and the release of their magic back to the Earth. Tradition dictated a Unicorn could not be burned until close family were present for the funeral.
The two Earth Ponies had been prepared for burial and were currently both inside a fitting wooden coffin. Around them the other earth ponies and close friends sung songs and talked about the good times with their fallen comrades as they celebrated the lives lived by them.
As they talked, they held a solemn air. Each of the bodies had a small shroud wrapped at their hooves, while at their side, a close friend or family member carved a piece of wood into a tool they used in their time on the earth. In another room a table was laid out with simple food and drink. At all times the body was attended to. The actual funeral and burying of the body would occur at dawn on the day when all family could be present.
The Pegasi were placed within two specially manufactured thunder clouds that had been acquired from Cloudsdale. Once activated, the lighting would spark internally, cremating the body. Once each body was carefully placed and covered, the shaping of the clouds could begin. The shaping always took the form of a long, slender vessel. As the Pegasi felt their souls would sail the sky, they gave it a vessel to rest in. It had two long necks at each end shaped like dragons, while rounded shapes akin to shields were “mounted” on the side. Within the vessel itself, shaped containers of food, water urns, weapons, tools they had used in life, and finally, their family shields were carefully crafted. They moved slowly. All the while the rumble of thunder from tiny sparks surrounded the workers as they continued to shape and mold. The deceased lay peacefully, patiently nearby as their new spiritual vessels formed around their bodies.
When each vessel was finished the Pegasi stood together, each placing a feather from their own wings upon the departing souls’ vessel before the closest to the deceased bucked the cloud to activate the lighting and the cloud ship was sent off to drift in the winds. A mournful air played on a trumpet as they saluted the soldiers. When all was said and done, the troops and family joined together once more to grieve as one herd. All were well loved, and all would be dearly missed.
The door to the forge slammed open as Shawn rushed in. Thankfully, one of his tables was mostly clear with only a few swords on it, which he promptly shoved onto the floor with his free hand. They clattered angrily, but Shawn didn’t care. This was far more important than a few old projects. He put Trixie down carefully as he looked around the room for the materials he’d need.
The forge door burst open as Vital came galloping through, Twilight and Clover in tow. “We’re here,” he said breathlessly. “What do you need us to do?”
“I need you here on standby in case this goes horribly wrong,” Shawn replied as he held his hand up, his eyes bursting into blue fire as a yellow crystal formed in his grip.
Clover leaned over to Twilight. “What happened to Lord Hammer Strike? What is this creature?” She asked in hushed tones.
“That is Hammer Strike,” Twilight replied.
“That is not Hammer Strike,” Clover responded flatly with a look of disdain.
Shawn’s hand suddenly burst into fire while his other was held over it, a red crystal forming in its grasp.
“... Nevermind,” she said.
After a few short seconds Shawn had made a blue crystal to compliment the red. He then paused as he looked around, his eyes settling on Vital. “Sorry to do this, pal, but you’re going to feel just a little jolt,” he warned him as he held his hand out towards the white unicorn. After a brief pulling motion, he placed a white crystal amongst the others. Vital Spark shuddered.
“Don’t know if I’d call that a jolt, but I sure as heck felt it.”
“Good. Now on to the harder part,” Shawn said as he wiped the blood from his nose.
“Are you really going to do this? Fate might take a liking to you, but --” Death spoke up behind Shawn. Before he could finish, Shawn had turned one eighty, bringing his fist up as he hit Death with enough force to launch him into the ceiling with a crash before falling back to the ground.
Shawn pointed towards Death, a glare on his face. “You will not interrupt me, and you sure as hell won’t stop me.”
Death just teetered left and right, his skull askew.
“Yep,” Clover responded with a nod. “That is definitely Hammer Strike.”
Twilight was looking at the ceiling where something had impacted, but even as she searched the room, for the life of her she couldn’t tell what had just transpired. “What-?”
Shawn spat blood off to the right of the table out of the everyone’s way. It steamed in the air and boiled on the ground.
Twilight flared her wings. “You have to stop!” Her horn began to glow until she felt a restraining hoof on her shoulder. Clover stood behind her, shaking her head gently.
“He is fine, Princess,” Clover said softly. “I have seen worse.”
Shawn put his hands over Trixie, igniting them as he began the next phase of his “treatment.” A sickly green mist began to exit her body and collected in his hands. Clover shuddered at the sight, rubbing her left fore hoof over her right nervously as a foul stench filled the air.
After a few moments the mist stopped seeping from Trixie’s body and collected in his hands. Bringing them together, the mist began to solidify itself into a pulsing green crystal. He didn’t catch it as it fell to the table. Instead, he fell off to the side, slamming his arm onto the table to stabilize himself as he leaned off to the right once again, this time vomiting his boiling blood.
Surrounded in her own aura, Clover patted Shawn’s back with a hoof. “There there, let it all out,” she offered.
Twilight’s eye twitched at the sight. “That’s his blood!”
“Twilight,” Vital said, looking paler than normal. “Can you conjure a towel? It helps to have something under the mouth to catch all the extra and wipe it up.”
Twilight concentrated bringing several towels into the room.
After a few moments Shawn stood up once again as he grabbed the crystals on the table. After taking a few deep breaths the crystals began to shrink and collect into a new form: a red crystal that he held in his left hand.
“I--need to finish soon,” Shawn coughed out. “Using it this long feels like it’s ripping out my insides.”
Twilight looked nervously, only to have Clover shake her head. “Even you know not to mix magic, and not to interrupt the caster mid-cast. I know the urge to help is strong, but you must let it flow naturally.”
The dark red crystal in Shawn’s hands began to shrink as jolts of electricity jumped from his fingers.
Twilight looked on nervously, her lips twitching while her wing tips fluffed from the field around them. Clover caught a few words as she looked at the Alicorn. “What are you saying?”
“Pi,” Twilight responded, returning to reciting the number.
Clover looked at Twilight oddly, but if it kept her calm, good for her.
“Now here comes the fun part,” Shawn said in a rough tone as the crystal fully vanished. The electricity jumping from his fingers now surrounded his right hand as he brought it over Trixie. “Clear!” He yelled as he brought his hand to her chest.
The Body shook and jolted from the shock, then settled down just as quickly. Twilight and Vital could see nothing, but to Shawn and Clover, they watched as Death looked at his list and groaned. “You did it ... you actually did it.” He growled. “You took her from my list! Are you happy now? This could be disastrous, you know.”
“I’m sorry to say, Death, but your list isn’t the final word anymore,” Shawn growled in return. “Not while I’m around.” Twilight’s left eye twitched at the words, but she couldn’t bring herself to contradict that sentence. Clover quickly moved up and looked to Shawn.
“Do you need assistance, Hammer?” she asked as Vital approached the table where Trixie lay, looking down as the mare suddenly gasped and began to take deep breaths before settling back onto the surface: unconscious, but most definitely alive.
Shawn gave a small grin as he looked to Clover. “Hah,” he said before falling to the ground, groaning lightly. “Yeah, that’d be appreciated.” He looked over to her once again. “A small note as well, this version of me came first. The name’s Shawn. Nice to meet you again.”
“Nice to meet you…. again?” Clover said as she offered her body for support.
“If you’re hoping for me to stand up, I can’t really feel my arms or legs at the moment. As for the again, you never saw me like this.”
“But I’ve known Hammer Strike off and on considerably throughout history,” she said. “I’m going to lift you in my magic, okay?”
Shawn chuckled. “As said, the only ones who know I’m Hammer Strike in New Unity are the ones in this room, and Tower and Blast Shield as well,” he listed. “Other than that, everyone thinks I am two individuals: Hammer Strike and Shawn. Also, good luck. Thankfully, I don’t think my magic can fight you at the moment.”
“Oh, I’m fairly certain I’m prepared,” Clover said with a smirk as her magic surrounded him momentarily and suddenly the feeling of falling hit him as he found himself rising upwards on a solid platform of magic. “Gravity spells save so much potential strain,” she said as she towed the hardened magic behind her. Shawn pressed experimentally against the underside.
Twilight looked at the situation. “Why didn’t the Princesses think like that?” She wondered.
Clover looked around the room and, upon spotting her goal, began to trot towards a cot. “You are staying here,” she said in a no-nonsense tone. “I will remain as well and watch over Death till you are able to get to your hooves.”
“I’ll see about getting Little Willow and some muscle down here to help transport Trixie,” Vital said. “After that, you and I are going to need to have a long talk, Clover.”
“... No fair,” Death whined as Vital left.
The early morning birds gave out their joyful songs in the misty morning air. To Grif, it seemed almost like a sign for what was to come. The front of the Farflyer compound had been quickly, if simply, decorated with flowers and banners. A silver and blue carpet had been laid out down a long asle. Underneath the foot of a large scarlet oak, a small archway had been set up. The yard was full with Gryphons and Gryphonesses in armor standing at attention in preparation for what was to come. The Bladefeathers stood in full battle armor with weapons ready. The tents had been taken down and wrapped in carts. The journey had already been delayed for too long, and after the ceremony the escort would be moving again. Crystal Ponies stood curiously behind them, eager to see the marriage rituals to come, for none of their kind had truly been able to witness them firsthand save for their royals.
Grif stood by the arch in the same dress armor he had worn when he married Shrial. It had been shined and oiled to gleam in the morning light. Behind him stood Pensword, Kel’leam, and Bellacosa, each in their own dress armor. Grif took a few deep breaths as he waited for the procession to begin.
“Never thought I’d be back here when we left Equestria,” he told Pensword quietly.
“Strange things are happening,” Pensword muttered. “Still, at least you are able to find happiness and save a life here.”
A low, deep boom thundered over the gathering, instilling sudden silence. It began again, slowly and steadily as they drew closer and closer together until it held at a steady One-two One-two staccato. Shortly after, a great fanfare of trumpets and war horns sounded as one gryphon immediately followed the fanfaire by playing the piercing sound of a set of bagpipes, his ceremonial garb the traditional wear of a Scotsman tailored to suit a Gryphon. After a stanza had passed, two more pipers joined, and then three more as each stepped up to join him in a stirring battle hymn. They marched slowly forward along the aisle until they reached the middle, at which point they parted to either side to reveal Avalon in all her stunning beauty.
She had no armor to bear in all the rush, so instead, a white veil studded with a garland of flowers lay over her face while a beautiful, flowing white silk dress embroidered with ancient runes shimmered with gold outlining as she walked slowly down the aisle with her father beaming at her side. The sharktooth necklace Grif had given her hung proudly around her neck as they continued to walk in time to the music. Her dress, while simple and hastily put together, seemed to radiate as they walked in the dawn’s early light. Sitting in the crowd, a few of her sisters glared while others sniffled and smiled next to their mates. Her mother cried openly as she looked on with pride. As they drew closer, the guards pulled their swords out in a military salute until the pair finally arrived at the altar where the amethyst sat waiting on its pillow before the Gryphon elder. Garrus smiled fondly as he released his daughter’s arm and took his place by the dais.
Grif offered his talon to her, smiling with pride. Avalon took it, but instead of her once shy demeanor, he saw a sparkling mischief behind the veil, and an insatiable curiosity that reminded him very much of himself. Most of all though, was the love and the fear that always came with marriage, and as she fixed him with her gaze, he barely restrained a shudder of pure ecstasy.
“The first day of forever.” Grif smiled. “Nervous?”
“Should I be?” She countered, then laughed.
“You’re marrying one of the most hated Gryphons in known history,” he reminded her.
“And that should worry me when I already have a target on my back?” she asked, bemusedly raising a brow. “Forbidden knowledge, remember?”
“As always, you make an excellent point.” He grinned. “Life will be interesting for the both of us.” With that, he turned forward.
Avalon leaned in to face him and briefly whispered in his ear. “Just a warning, I hear the old priest is a little … odd,” she said with a veiled smile.
A very elderly Gryphon stalked his way to the archway before them. He had a lion body, but the front and wings of a great grey owl. His head was large and rounded with weary-looking, small, piercing yellow eyes. His body was covered in wrinkles which were visible under his feathers, giving him a somewhat comical appearance. A large, baggy white robe with a series of green swirling parallel lines representing winds glinted in the sun with the golden trimming on the sleeves and hem. He seemed almost to sag within it, even as he gazed blearily upon the soon-to-be-wed couple. He smiled especially warmly to Grif and bowed to the young lady out of respect. He looked over the crowd, and then, in a loud, whiny voice, he spoke.
“Mawwiage! Mawwiage is what bwings us togethahhhhh to-day.”
Grif tore holes in the ground beneath him as he clenched his talons tightly to keep himself from laughing.
“Mawwiage, dat … bwessed awangement,” the priest said with a lilt. “DAT DWEAM! Wit-iiin a dweam!” A sudden fervor had taken over the elderly Gryphon’s voice, even as his eyes shone with joy.
Cosy stood by Pensword’s side chuckling and threatening to break into a full out laugh. Pensword quickly laid a wing on Cosy’s muzzle, which caused Cosy to bite down while Pensword was simultaneously trying to bite down on his own wing. In his head, Matthew was firing off one liners from a movie he had completely forgotten about till that very moment, which was confusing Pensword to no end. Still, the two did their best not to interrupt the ceremony.
“... When wuv … twue wove, will follow you fowevah--” Garrus cleared his throat, interrupting. In a tremendous show of will and self mastery, his face was perfectly straight.
“With all due respect, your holiness, these two are on a tight schedule in their escort. Do you think we could skip to the end, please?” The elderly gryphon looked slightly hurt and sighed heavily.
“Vewwy well. Have you the gifts?”
Grif cleared his throat into his arm. The casual observer may have claimed he was chuckling, but Grif would forever claim he was merely clearing his throat.
“Avalon, when we first met, I will admit I was instantly drawn to you. You are beautiful inside and out, and that is a rare trait for anyone. But more than anything, I’ve noticed your thirst for knowledge, your need to learn, and the desire to use it for the betterment of those you hold dear. I am a warrior, obviously, and it is commonly taken that warriors do not care for great learning. But I personally believe the words of a wise philosopher, who once claimed ‘the nation that insists on drawing a broad line of demarcation between the fighting man and the thinking man is liable to find its fighting done by fools and its thinking done by cowards.’
“I, myself, care for great learning and seek often to expand my own knowledge. It is to this end that I have amassed a great store of ancient knowledge and research inside the libraries of the Fortress Elaine back in Equestria.” Grif produced a large parchment scroll and held it to her. “This deed was handed to me by Princess Luna when the war ended. It proclaims the fortress as mine by right of conquest. I hereby surrender my fortress to you and all the treasures within save for the tomb that lies beneath it, for that belongs to the dead. It holds not a quarter of the value that I hold for you, but it is all I can offer to show my love.”
Avalon blushed beneath her veil. Thankfully, nobody could see it. “Thank you, Grif. In truth, I never thought that a girl like me could ever be so lucky to meet, let alone marry, a warrior like you. You showed me a kindness and intelligence that extended far beyond the norm. And if I am not mistaken by the town gossip, you get along very well with children.” A small titter of laughter came from the gathering. “I’m afraid I haven’t the greatest of gifts to give due to the sudden nature of our union, but I hope that this will be able to hold you over until I have the time to make you something proper.” She turned to her father, who carefully unclasped the belt from around his waist, the jewel glinting blue as he handed it to his daughter before she presented it Grif.
Grif accepted the belt with a bow. “You do me great honor. I will strive to prove myself worthy of it.”
“Gwif Gwafson, son of Gwaf, do you take Avawon Fawfwyer, daughter of Gawwus Wyan Ineschtad Fwightfighter Fawfwyer, to be youw wawfuwwy wedded wife?” The old priest lisped.
“I do.” Grif smiled, staring into Avalon’s eyes. The old priest smiled and turned to her.
“And do you, Avawon Fawfwyer, daughter of Gawwus Wyan Ineschtad Fwightfighter Fawfwyer, take Gwif Gwafson, son of Gwaf to be your wawfuwy wedded husband?”
“I do,” she said, refusing to break the gaze.
“Then befowe we commence with the cewemony, if thewe be any Gwyphon with objection to why these two should be joined, speak now, ow fowevah hold youw peace.” The room was silent. With surprisingly steady arms, he lifted the pillow on which the amethyst lay. “Then wet the binding of bwood commence.”
Avalon drew a dagger from within the folds of her dress, ornate and encrusted with gems at the hilt as she flicked it over her talon without so much as a flinch. She watched the blood pool before she proceeded to place it over the channel and watched as her own blood mixed with that of Grif and his first wife, Shrial. When she had filled enough, she removed her finger and returned the stone to the pillow where its heart seemed almost to glow with the new addition of blood.
“By the powwah vested in me by the fouw winds and the Winds Fathew, I now pwonounce you husband and wife! You may kiss the bwide!” He smiled as the two slowly approached one another and Grif removed the veil over Avalon’s face to reveal her own radiant smile.
Grif reached an arm around her and pulled her into a dip as he pressed his beak to hers. His face was hidden from both crowd and the priest and his body shook a bit as he chuckled into the kiss. He broke it moments later, but took an extra second to collect himself before they returned to upright stature.
“Just a little longer,” Avalon whispered to him as they faced the crowd. A chorus of cheers erupted with a mighty roar as rice and streamers were thrown and the bagpipes picked up yet again.
Grif lifted Avalon into his arms and made a show of flying up into the sky. Once he was sure they were high enough, he let loose, practically spewing out all the stored laughter.
On the ground, Pensword quickly ushered Cosy back to the tents where the two of them began to laugh. When they were asked, Pensword covered, claiming they’d just been told an extremely funny joke, which, in a sense, was true.
“So, about that library...” Avalon said.
“Oh, you mean the one filled with all the knowledge of the invokers from a thousand years ago?” Grif asked as they flew.
Avalon screeched to a halt mid-flight, and then, in an action that was extremely out of character for a Gryphoness of such high birth, her eyes widened and she squealed as she embraced her new husband, smothering him with kisses. Grif smirked.
“I should do this more often.”
Trixie was very surprised as the world began to come into focus for her. Lifting her heavy eyelids, she scanned the room around her. “What happened? Is Trixie dead?”
“Not dead,” Shawn responded from his chair further in the room.
Trixie found herself suddenly embraced by a set of white forelegs. “Don’t you ever scare me like that again,” Vital Spark said. “If it weren’t for Hammer Strike and Shawn, I don’t know what would’ve happened.”
“Trixie is confused,” Trixie said as she rubbed her head.
“Lord Shawn used his magic to remove the poison you took into yourself. Then he and Hammer Strike worked together to bring you back. It was a close call, but it worked.” Vital smiled. “But seriously, next time you’re going to try something like that, I might just have to whoop your sorry butt.” Then he chuckled as he backed off her bed.
“Trixie would like to see you try,” she laughed a bit hoarsely.
“You never know, might find yourself surprised by what he can do,” a voice said to her right. When she looked, her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open as she began to tremble. “Heya,” Death said casually.
“Stop it, Death, you can be casual while she gets used to being able to see you,” Shawn said. “Until then, don’t you have a job to do?”
“... I’ll get you one day, Shawn, mark my words,” Death said hollowly as he pointed dramatically with his bony hoof while a parchment layer of skin and fur began to grow over him and his face. Glowing red eyes replaced the empty holes in his sockets as he turned to face Vital. “Besides, Fate has some interesting plans in store for your friends,” he said, smirking.
“Death, get lost. You’re spoiling the future,” Shawn frowned. “Don’t make me come over there.”
Death grumbled angrily as he turned and walked towards the wall, muttering several curses as he dissolved through it.
“... And yet another conversation I missed. How often does Death hang around you anyways, Shawn?” Vital asked casually as he raised up an herbal remedy for Trixie to drink.
“He hangs around quite a lot now that I can see him and I’m one of the rare individuals who can not only survive his touch, but can also interact back in general,” Shawn explained before he gave a small smirk. “To be honest, I have nothing against him, he just gets bored, sometimes, though it’s a little out of place.”
“Like trying to scare Trixie to death?” Vital asked.
“Will Trixie have to be seeing him again?” she asked.
“Since you died, you can see him now. He’ll leave you alone if you really don’t feel like seeing him, but you’re going to see him around here often since, in his off time, he likes to chat… for hours,” Shawn responded.
“Oh.” Trixie wasn’t sure how to respond.
“Don’t worry about it. If he does something you don’t like, you can threaten him with my name. I’ve already knocked his skull off a few times. Almost did when he tried to stop me from saving you,” Shawn calmly told her.
“You assaulted Death?” she asked.
“Quite often, it seems.”
“Drink that up, Trixie, and stop delaying. LIttle Willow said it’d help you with your recovery,” Vital insisted as he hit her with a serious look. “I’m not about to let Shawn’s work go to waste.”
Trixie did as she was bidden, wincing at the taste as she swallowed it down.
Vital smiled. “Atta girl. Once you’re up to snuff, a certain Unicorn from the past wants a word with you. Something about magic lessons, I think?” he said mischievously as he smiled and winked.
“Clover the Clever wants to teach Trixie?” Trixie’s eyes widened.
“And me. We’ll be classmates. Apparently, she’s going to give Twilight a few pointers, too.”
“Trixie will be in the same class as Twilight Sparkle?” The Unicorn’s demeanor changed from excited to nervous instantly.
“From what I understand, most of what Twilight will be learning has to do with combat magic using her new focus and staff. You and I will be focusing more on the actual magic arts and how to use them and apply them while maintaining greater control so we don’t repeat certain … mistakes.” Conor sighed heavily as he remembered the changeling corpse and what he’d done to make it that way.
“Trixie looks forward to working with you, Vital Spark.” She bowed her head. “Together we will find our place.”
“Hopefully we’ll have something perfect for you guys,” Shawn said as he stood up from his chair, cracking his back in the process. “There aren’t a lot of Unicorns around here, and the primary ones here are battlemages, but there are other things that need to be done.”
Quite suddenly, Trixie got to her hooves and rushed over, proceeding to hug Shawn without warning. “Thank you, Lord Shawn. Trixie won’t waste this second chance.”
After a second, Shawn wrapped an arm around her. “I’m sure you won’t.” He gave her a grin. “I have to get going; need more fluids in me after all that happened.”
“And you, missy, need to get yourself back in that bed,” Vital said as he walked over to Trixie.
“Very well,” Trixie said letting go of Shawn and moving back to the waiting sheets.
Shawn gave a sigh. “Welp, off to sign documents, fix damaged sets of weapons and armor, and to make more weapons and armor to replace the fully lost sets…” Shawn sighed again. “Or take a break…?” He shook his head. “ ...I shouldn’t.”
Pensword looked to his left. They were marching on the main road. On either side of them a thick, old-growth forest with what only could be described as hedgerows helped put him on edge. His eyes darted nervously. He felt like they could be attacked at any moment. As a precaution, he was fully armored and his wing blades were oiled and ready to use if needed, but that still didn’t help the unease. He slowed his breathing again. Cosy walked at his side, mimicking his every movement.
“We’re still on Farflyer lands,” Grif assured his friend. “We’re safe enough. The scouts will spot anything coming.” Grif looked down, smiling at Bellacosa. “Are you holding up okay? We’ve been marching for a while.”
“I’m fine, Grif, don’t worry.” Cosy smiled. “The last few weeks walking has helped me get used to long distances.”
Pensword nodded and relaxed. “Sorry, just, a little--this is a place that, as a historian, reminds me of another location from the Human’s stories. Then there is the fact I am having my hooves touch land that I did not feel I would never see.” He looked to Grif. “Even if you walk at my side, you are protected by those blades. There will be times in the future where I may be someplace, you another, and Cosy in a third location. I stay vigilant because…” He looked at the two others, deciding to change his wording at the last second. “I want to return to Lunar Fang and keep her from leading an Army here to avenge me.”
“If you can’t relax then there will be no point in hiding Bellacosa’s identity,” Grif whispered under his breath. “Any Gryphon will be able to read your tension like a proclamation.”
Pensword’s left ear flicked, picking up on Grif’s comment. He took another breath in and let it out as he mentally stepped away from his stance. He grimaced. “I have to remember a Thousand years have passed. I am a fairy tale, a legend that no Gryphons know anymore,” he muttered. “I am just a guard, just a guard.” He repeated to himself as he spent some time keeping silent before turning to Cosy. “So, what would you like to do when you reach the Capital?”
“What I’m supposed to do. I’m here as a delegate for the Crystal Empire. That means I need to meet Daedalus and try to re-establish good relations.” The kindness and carefree attitude had dropped away as a more serious look took its place. “I’m not gonna let anyone else hurt my home.”
“It will take a few days before we get an audience,” Grif told them. “So best to have some other plans as well.”
Pensword looked to Grif. “Imperial War Museum?” he asked.
“If you’d like.”
“Maybe see some art or practice some more?” Cosy asked, not sure what could be done in the Empire without causing offense.
“Weapon practice is a good idea.” Grif smiled. “Perhaps we’ll see about getting a knife custom made for you.”
“That sounds nice. But do ya think we could practice with the sword, too? I need to keep up what Uncle Shiney taught me.”
“If you think you can keep up,” Grif told him. “Though pensword may be the better opponent for you.”
“Why not learn a little from both?” Cosy asked.
“Best to start easy,” Grif said. “I’ve taught a few other people to sword fight and I’d rather not leave you too bruised up before your audience.”
Pensword nodded sagely. “I think you should build up. I did not start out as Commander born with medals on my chest. Maybe on our way home, you can train with Grif. But first, maybe some lessons from ‘The Demon?’” he asked with a chuckle.
Cosy pouted. “I guess I can live with that for a while.”
“Good. Next break, you and I will work on some sword play and hoof work,” Pensword said, switching from his friendly tone to that of a teacher and soldier.
“It’s a practice weapon, Twilight, it’s not meant to be perfect.” Hammer Strike sighed, rubbing a hoof on his head. The weapon in question was a long pole only slightly shorter than a quarterstaff with a stiletto sticking out the end. It was neither expressive nor particularly well crafted, but it would serve it’s purpose in this fight. He casually flicked it around, getting a sense for its weight and heft before performing a series of complicated moves to warm up and then settle back down again as he looked to Twilight.
“But … what if I hurt you?” Twilight asked, concerned.
“Twilight, if you hurt me, Celestia and Luna would be proud.”
Twilight shook her head. “I don’t want to hurt you. But I will try to learn what you have to teach me,” she said as she levitated her glaive-staff and held it in her hooves.
“Strike me.”
“Say what now?”
“Hit me,” Hammer repeated.
Twilight moved forward to strike, only for Hammer Strike to sidestep, Grab her forehoof with the flat of the blade, and knock it away, sending her to the ground.
“Lesson one. Don’t hold back.”
“But …” Twilight was starting to tear up.
“I know this’ll be hard for you, but if you want to protect your friends I want to know how far you can go.” Hammer frowned. “Or do you not want to defend them?”
Twilight took a deep breath and sighed. “Alright, but I still don’t like it.” She resumed her stance, then ran forward screaming as she braced for impact. Hammer did the same until suddenly her horn flared and she executed a downward stroke from above.
Hammer Strike slid back, bringing his glaive around until the two blades met before twirling his around and forcing the blade of Twilight’s glaive into the floor.
“Funny, Luna took three matches before she tried teleportation,” Hammer Strike shook his head. “Rule one: no magic until I say so. I want you to fight me without it. I don’t want you relying on it. If you try to use magic again, I’ll hold back a lot less,” he warned her.
Twilight gulped. “R-right,” she said, chuckling nervously. “Let’s try that one again.”
She raised her glaive and started charging.
Two hours later and things had progressed at a pretty much constant level. Twilight had managed to land all of two strikes in the dozen or so matches they’d had. She stood battered, bruised, covered in sweat, and utterly exhausted, the glaive being used more as a crutch than a weapon at this point.
“That’s enough for now,” Hammer Strike said.
Twilight collapsed on the ground, splayed out on all fours as she panted heavily, her glaive-staff clattering to the ground next to her. “I don’t know … how … you do this.”
“Years of practice and work, and by years, I mean approximately forty or so,” Hammer replied. “Remind me, how often do you exercise?”
Twilight chuckled nervously and blushed. “Uh … yeah, about that.”
“Ahem,” A familiar voice spoke up as their heads turned to see Rarity standing near the entrance of the sparring room, her rapier in her hoof as she swung it around carefully. Her mane was currently pulled back in a ponytail.
“Ah, Rarity, come to spar?” Hammer asked.
“Grif told me I should keep up my schedule with you while he’s away. I’d have hoped he’d mentioned it,” she said.
“As I stated a while back, I tend to be told things last minute, which is very odd.”
“Rarity?” Twilight sputtered.
“Ah, Twilight! It’s so good to see you decided to get some practical learning done. I must admit, I didn’t think much of weapons before Grif started teaching me swordplay, but it really makes a new mare out of you,” Rarity said. “How long have you been learning?”
“Um … two hours,” Twilight said, her ears drooping as she let out a weak laugh.
“Ah, well it takes time, dearie,” Rarity offered kindly. “When I started, Grif gave me a list of exercises that have helped me a great deal. Perhaps I could pass it along to you?”
Twilight perked up a little. “Thanks, Rarity, I’d really appreciate that.” She smiled and then wobbled to her legs. “Maybe it is time I performed a few more physical studies instead of mental ones. I have heard exercise helps your brain to build stronger neural pathways.”
“Alright, Twilight, while you are taking a breather, you can watch me and Rarity spar, which is bound to be interesting since I haven’t practiced with light weaponry for a while,” Hammer Strike said as he moved to change his weapons.
Twilight slowly plodded off the field and plopped onto a nearby bench as she levitated a scroll and pen to take intricate notes on the spar that was to come.
Grif was tailing behind the column, just him and Avalon for now. “I’m sorry we won’t have time for a honeymoon for awhile,” Grif offered as they walked.
“I don’t mind. This is more important anyways,” she said, smiling. “At least I get to spend this time with you before the meeting with Emperor Daedalus, right?”
“So then, I take it being the servant was how you got a more honest view of your father’s guests?”
“To an extent. The other part is it gave me more freedom to move around the compound. I like to be able to go where I wish. If a little subterfuge is necessary to accomplish that end, then so be it.”
“Well you’ll see a lot with me.” He smiled at her. “I find that life tends to take me places. Who knows? Next week we could end up in the Stampede Lands.” Grif chuckled. “Still, I’m amazed things worked out the way they did.”
“You and me both. I’m just glad not all Gryphons look at me like a witch,” she said, smiling as she took her new husband in for a kiss.
“Yeah, well, I live in Equestria.” Grif shrugged. “One of my best friends is a witch. Heck, a third of the population are some sort of magical being.” Grif draped a wing over her back. “Besides, I’d rather have someone with access to magic who I know will use it for good.”
“And there’s that charming chivalry I fell in love with. You always know what to say to make a girl feel better.” Avalon smiled as she walked arm in arm with her husband.
“Still doesn’t explain why a pretty one like you fell for this lump of scars and bruises.” He smiled at her. “I scared my other wife nearly to death the first time she saw me. Of course, at the time she was on the opposite side of a battle.”
“Well let’s see. You’re handsome, intelligent, you listen (at least mostly), and you love books almost as much as I do. Should I go on?” she asked as she handed him the medallion he’d let her borrow. Now that they were together, she wouldn’t need it.
“I wouldn’t stop you,” he said playfully. Sadly, his jovial smile would not last long. His face turned serious as they moved. “Just so we can cover this now, let’s not breech the subject of children till we are out of Gryphonia, okay?” he asked. “Things are probably going to get intense very fast in the capital and we’ll all need to be at our best.”
“Fair enough. I’ll make sure to hold off until after we get to our new home. Besides, I have to meet this first wife of yours.”
“I think Shrial will like you. She fought with me during the war and she knows more about the old culture than any other Gryphon alive, though it occurs to me she may have an unfair advantage there.”
“Tell me, how did she come forward with you? From what I’ve heard, you were frozen in stone with your companions, not another Gryphoness.”
“The timeline isn’t as direct as you would believe,” Grif explained. “In fact, the stone freezing happened before the Third Gryphon War for me.”
“You’re kidding.”
“You’re familiar with the myth of the blue box?” Grif asked her.
“You mean the one that appeared to Storm Talon the First?”
“Would you like to meet the one whom it belongs to?”.
“You know the gryphon?”
“He’s a Pony now. It’s a thing I’ll have to explain, some knowledge you’re going to have to expend your disbelief for. Speaking of which, follow me.” Grif signaled one of the scouts ahead before he led Avalon off the path and behind the hedges. “Remember how I told you I could prove my story?”
“Yes.”
Grif twisted the gem on his bracer and in a flash he was replaced with a large bipedal creature Avalon had never seen before.
“So this is the ‘human’ you told me so much about?”
“Yeah,” he said. “This is me, or half of me. Who I was? Who I am sometimes? I honestly still haven’t sorted it all out yet,” he admitted. “Still, you have a right to know.”
“So you were telling me the truth about coming from another world. I admit that’s a little disturbing to think about. It doesn’t change anything of course, but the implications are positively massive. It could well open a completely new branch of magical research and study.” Avalon’s eyes had grown a little distant as she thought on those two beautiful words.
Taze twisted the gem, returning to Gryphon form. “Just to hear it doesn’t change anything means more to me than you know.” He kissed her before heading back to the group. “Have you ever been to the capital?” he asked her.
“A few times. We usually have to visit for Imperial affairs. Emperor Daedalus often relied on my father’s counsel and was glad to invite us to remain for religious observances at the Monastery of Winds.”
“Is it true what they say about Daedalus? He lost both parents at nine years old?”
She nodded grimly. “I’m afraid it is. It was a terrible blow. The Winds Father nearly gave the throne to another to rule as regent, but Daedalus showed he had the nerve, even back then. He refused to let anyone take his family’s throne and even drew swords. The show did the trick, and the Winds Father gave him the blessing.”
“Did your father ever mention anything about the emperor's guard? Are they still loyal to him? Is there any reason to believe they’d purposefully falter in their duty?”
“As far as I’m aware, they should still be loyal to him. Daedalus learned a valuable lesson from his parents’ deaths. He trusts almost no one. And when he does find someone he can trust, he makes sure their loyalty is secure and immovable before he appoints them. For one so young, he has a surprisingly good grip on politics.”
“Then why did he extend the olive branch to our species’ greatest traitor?” Grif asked her. “Why me?”
Avalon gave Grif a blank stare. “You, of all people, should know why, Grif.”
“I sense as though I’m missing something.”
“Clearly. You betrayed Gryphonia a thousand years ago. But in so doing, you pleased The Winds and brought justice to many a corrupt Gryphon. And if I’m not mistaken, you still have that favor. Now, considering Daedalus is the emperor, there can only be one of two reasons for why he would perform the action you questioned. One, that you can be used as a political ally to help stand against those who would dethrone him, or two, that he genuinely looks up to you and shares views similar to your own on many matters that the Kings disagree with. Or I guess there is a third option.”
“And that is?”
“It could be both.”
“You know something,” Grif said as he stared into her eyes. “I’m in for a surprise when meeting him, aren't I?”
“I wouldn’t say I know. Let’s just call it a woman’s intuition,” Avalon said, smiling.
Shawn sighed in relief as he placed the final sword into its sheath. He had finally finished catching up on repairing and replacing the gear from the siege. He took a breath in as he sat down in his chair and leaned back. “I think I can finally take a break.”
With that said, Shrial came bursting in through the door, slamming it against the stone with little care for whether it could break or not. By now, her stomach had grown much larger as she walked carefully around. “Hammer Strike, you in here?”
“Close enough. What’s up?” Shawn asked, turning towards her.
She waved a piece of parchment around as she walked in her widened stance. “I just got a letter from Grif. We’re going to need an airship dock built here in two weeks’ time. Apparently, my husband feels an airship would be the best way to escape without assassins. You know how he is about last minute improvisations.” She rolled her eyes as she gave the letter to the lord for him to peruse.
Shawn scanned the letter a few times before he gave a heavy sigh. “I finally finish, and it’s time to go back to work…”
“Shawn, I’m three months in, and I really don’t give a buck. You and I both know you love big projects like this. So I’m going to get back to my tower, and you’re going to get to work. And if you complain again, let’s just say things aren’t going to be the most pleasant.” She groaned and clutched her stomach. “Winds, I wish they’d stop squirming so much. What are they doing in there, wrestling?”
“Sure,” Shawn shrugged. “I’ll get to work on the designs.”
After Shrial left, Fox Feather entered the room with a roll of parchment under her wing. “Hammer Strike? I have a few questions for you to answer.” She was wearing a hard hat the same color as her armor.
“He’s out at the moment, what questions do you got?” Shawn asked from his desk.
Fox Feather snorted with an annoyed ear twitch. “I am wondering what access we can have to the marble. Also, can you release one of the student architects to let us continue building the plaza?”
“Sure, go for it, build away,” Shawn replied simply.
“Thank you, Lord Shawn,” Fox Feather saluted with a wing before turning to leave.
Shawn sighed as Fox Feather left the room. After a moment he turned the gem on his bracelet, turning into Hammer Strike once more. He hummed to himself as he waited for the next pony to enter his room, having heard them as soon as whoever moved into the hallway towards his forge.
“Don’t have to knock,” he called out.
“Sorry, Starswirl was kind of OCD about knocking,” Clover said as she entered the room. “Old habits die hard.”
“Now that I think on it, yeah, he was,” Hammer nodded. “So, what brings you around?”
“Not many Ponies I can talk to here,” she noted.
“Eventually things will change, but it’s understandable,” Hammer told her. “I wouldn’t know much on it though, considering I’ve been mostly in here,” he gestured around him. “To be honest, I don’t know many of the ponies here enough. I have names and appearance, but that’s about it.”
“Question, how was Starswirl after I was frozen?” she asked.
“Distant, as well as showing anger towards the Doctor.” He glanced over at her. “I take it that’s what happened?”
“It wasn’t his fault.” She shook her head. “Starswirl was so far ahead of his time. Why did he have to have such an idiotic temper?”
“Because sometimes, even those who seem to be an another level compared to the rest still have their own faults.”
“Yes. Well, it seems we all get drawn together.” Clover laughed. “So, I’ve been testing the Unicorns here, and I think we need to talk.”
Hammer hummed in question
“I don’t know what passes for magic classes now, but many of these Unicorns have potential that's being highly ignored. I mean there are few I’d say are alpha level, and plenty of high level betas who aren't aware of much more than basic levitation.”
“After years of peace, Celestia decided to tone down on combat. The army was disbanded, schools taught less on defense. I already noted to her on how it was a terrible choice, but with me and Luna being gone for a thousand years, she got her peace, and the cost shows.”
“Then I’m requesting a tower to prepare a combat magic academy,” she said.
“First you’ll have to wait until the towers are fully restored. While they are stable enough now, if you put too much force onto the floors I can’t promise it ending well,” he warned her. “We’ve been restoring this place for awhile, but most of the wood has rotted, and a lot of things happened in a thousand years here.”
“Very well. Then I am requesting permission to square off a corner of the courtyard for lessons in field combat magic.”
“Granted. Any other requests?”
“I’ll have a potential funding request in by the end of the day,” she said, nodding. “Until next time, Lord Hammer Strike.”
“Clover, you’ve been on my payroll since the moment you stopped being stone,” Hammer mentioned as she exited. “Don’t sweat the small stuff.”
“There it is,” Grif stared up at the immense, intricately carved stone gates. “Gryphelheim, the seat of Gryphon power.” The gate was immense, standing at over nine meters in height and over four meters in breadth. It had been carved into almost five feet of thick stone with an extra defense in the form of a wall surrounding the city entirely.
Though to call it a wall was incorrect. Gryphelheim was a city built inside of a bisected mountain. Thousands of years of Gryphon stone-carving had hollowed out the plateau, so the city was covered from all sides by a wall formed from the mountain’s own base. Inside, homes of stone lined the city’s streets for miles, varying in style and value from the homes of the great clans and the five kings of Gryphonia to the low-end houses of the servants’ section of the city, where the poor, and in many cases, clanless, lived in squalor. The site beyond the gate alone was nearly overwhelming for the group as they approached the open doorway.
Pensword looked on in shock, his eyes wide as he stared at the gateway and the intricate stonework. “They, I assume this is the images of the history of the city?” He asked, blown away. Yet even as he marveled, he couldn’t help but feel a cold pit in his chest as the thought of thievery from Thestral Techniques wormed its way in. “If the nobles had not pushed us into the caves …” He shook his head. There would be time to wonder about his tribe’s potential later. “Still, how do they expect walls to protect from flying species?” he asked as he looked to the sky.
Drifting above them were several large floating objects. Unlike Equestrian airships, these possessed no balloons keeping them aloft. They varied in materials from heavy wood to metal to some that even seemed to be made of stone slabs. They still moved with an almost bird-like grace through the air. Some had what seemed to be metal netting fishing for lighting from nearby storm clouds.
“Remember what I said? Gryphelheim’s highest grossing export is airships,” Grif told him. “They’re powered by a particular type of gemstone only found in Gryphonia.”
Pensword stared at the sky. “They--” He frowned. “I like the practicality and design. The other--” he grimaced. “Second in command--” another face. He spoke in dragonic with annoyance, his voice low. “Matthew does not see the beauty in them. He prefers sailing ship designs.”
Cosy looked at the airships in the sky. “I want one,” He whispered. “I really, really want one.” His eyes shone with the daydreams of what he could do with such a ship as he watched them fly.
“Perhaps Cadence will buy you one.” Grif laughed.
“Halt!” a voice instructed as two large male gryphons approached them. “Identify yourselves!”
Pensword stopped as he fought down a panic attack. Armed Gryphons bearing armor that harkened back to the war were bearing down on them. His wings twitched in anticipation. He moved a wing and placed it on Cosy’s back, doing his best to act like a protective uncle, a move he hoped would not draw undue attention. He mentally locked his mouth as Grif instructed him, waiting to let his friend handle things first.
“We are here to request an audience with His Holiness,” Grif said calmly. “The details do not need to be discussed in public.”
One of the guards nodded his head and was about to speak before his partner cut him off. “And why would so many Gryphons be traveling with Bat Ponies and Earth Treaders?” he asked. Pensword bristled at the words, but kept his mouth shut.
“My mercenary group was hired to serve as protection. Our employers don’t trust Gryphons, so they hired the Thestrals to keep an eye on us,” Grif lied.
“Graak, there are a lot of people coming in today and they clearly aren't here to cause trouble. Just let them go and lets keep moving.”
“Now hold on, this seems suspicious to me.” Graak growled as he moved in, eyeing up the group. He leaned into Avalon’s face. “Well well, hello there, Poppet. Fancy seeing Lord Farflyer’s daughter all the way out here without her daddy.”
“Hello, Graak. How are those scars healing? I really am so terribly sorry about that accident. You didn’t get into too much trouble with your father, did you?” Avalon smirked as she casually fingered a dagger.
The Gryphon grunted, but moved on, examining the others. Grif casually ushered Bellacosa closer with a wing. “Well now, what’s this? Protective of the Pony brat, are you? I wonder what’s so special about the runt that needs protecting?” Graak moved in close, reaching out with a talon towards the hood. Grif glared under his own hood, but didn’t move. He saw Pensword fidgeting nervously as the Gryphon drew closer. A worried look crossed Avalon’s face. Still Grif didn’t move. If they were caught, sanctuary was still an option until the Emperor saw them, but starting something now would kill them all.
Just as the talons got within a hair’s breadth of the fabric, Grif felt the Gryphon throw his weight against him to push him out of the way and with a sly grin, Grif reacted. Every Gryphon in Gryphonia was subject to the law, guardsmen as well as servant, and a shove like that was up to the shoved to interpret as they would. Grif’s movements were too fast to be tracked as he unsheathed his stiletto and drove it into Graak’s throat. The cocky Gryphon gurgled and choked on his own blood as he attempted in vain to pull the knife from his neck, his motor functions already failing him as he slowly died.
The other guard moved warily, brandishing his spear at Grif, but not moving forward. “That was a city guard you just murdered.”
“He threw his weight against me. It was a challenge and I answered in kind.” Grif shrugged as he retrieved the dagger and cleaned it on the dead guard’s fur.
The other guard glared at him for a moment, tensing as if considering to attack, but after a few moments he relented, growling. “You didn’t have to kill him. His father’s clan will be after blood for what you’ve done. Get in the city and don’t cause any more trouble.”
“Tell your friend’s father he can retrieve his worm of a son’s corpse after sundown. And tell him if he wants a vendetta, he can find me at the cathedral.” Grif chuckled as he unclasped his cloak. He’d already drawn attention to himself. There was no point in hiding himself now. Carefully, he threw the cloack around Avalon and tied it gently before turning back to the guard. “Tell him to ask for the Avatar of Winds.” There was a few gasps as Grif lifted his head. He held it high as he signaled his friends to follow. The group entered the gate in a four-being wide column into the city.
“Are you okay, Cosy?” Grif asked as they left earshot. Pensword was on Cosy’s other side.
“Why did you do that, Grif?” Cosy asked.
Pensword answered instead. “The Gryphon shoved Grif. Here, in the city, that is a challenge to one’s authority, and unless you want some poor reception, you need to respond with strength. Also, with him drawing attention to himself, you and I are just normal ponies. Fearsome Ponies, in fact. Notice where we are walking in relation to Grif.” He grinned.
“Um … what does that matter?” Cosy asked, confused.
“When you travel in Gryphonia, your sides are always your most exposed because the people behind you are loyal to you, but they also serve you. The people in front of you are served by you, but those on your side are equal to you, and by walking beside them, you acknowledge that,” Grif recited. “Proverb from Beltonna, the prophet of the North Wind.”
“So basically, because Grif is saying we’re equals by letting us walk next to him, that makes other Gryphons worry what we can do?”
Pensword nodded his head. “That is correct. As we walk at his side, they do not know our own strengths, so they will approach us with unease.” He smiled more. “I like that position.”
“Fear can be a powerful tool,” Grif said as he turned to Avalon. “I hope you don’t mind I stole your kill there?”
“We’ll talk it over later when we spar, Grif,” she said, her tone cool and prim.
“I love you,” Grif offered, somewhat unsure whether to be fearful or excited by her tone.
“We’ll see how that holds when I’m through with you,” she said, smirking as she chuckled.
They walked down the roads slowly and carefully. Grif had to stop on a few occasions and calm Bellacosa down as they moved through the market district. Stands of all kinds lined the streets selling weapons, armor, food, exotic gifts, stone sculptures galore, and the greatest weakness of all, candy. Grif had ended up having to lift the colt onto his back as they passed the confectioners’ stalls.
“If you behave, I’ll bring you back for some candy later in the trip, alright Cosy?” Pensword smiled as he leaned in. “I was eyeing one of the statues, myself.” he added with a chuckle.
Cosy sulked. “Fine. But I’m holding you to that, Pensword.”
Pensword hissed. “Use Uncle,” He whispered. “That name is a byword and considered a Demon name. Unless you want a battle, please call me Uncle.”
“Yes, Uncle,” Cosy said.
Grif showed them the large statues and carvings of great Gryphons of the past, including a large stone carving of Grask Grimfeather standing over the defeated Taimut with his blades held high. He pointed out a large square building made of granite and carved with thousands of highly intricate carvings of Gryphons battling monsters and large, strange figures. The windows were made of stained glass, depicting the four embodiments: The Bird of Paradise shimmering in the sunlight, The Quetzalcoatl curled carefully with a scroll in his claws, The Thunderbird with the wind whistling as he flew forward endlessly, and the massive Roc carrying away full-sized elephants in his talons.
Finally, they came to another sector of the city. Walking through a narrow corridor carved into the stone wall, they emerged out the other end to see a very strange sight: a massive series of stone buildings that seemed to have been carved from the stalactites themselves and hung off a large shelf-like lip of the mountain shell.
“If we’re ever to find a safe place for the night, this is it,” Grif told them.
“What is it?” Cosy asked.
Avalon turned to face the colt, her expression grim. “The Monastery of the Four Winds.”
Lunar Fang watched the rising sun from the wooden porch and sighed. From behind her, the new Nanny walked up with a bell around its neck. It whimpered, its hole-filled legs whistling as a calm breeze drifted through them.
“You may retire to the dungeon now, Fizzpot. Please, take Moon River with you. Construction will soon begin and I’d rather not have her wake up.” The changeling groaned as he picked the foal up and she giggled on his back as he slowly clopped out of the room. His horn still had not grown back yet, and he hated being cut off from his beloved Queen, but to try to escape would mean death at the hands of this little tyrant. He grumbled, complaining down the halls, even as Moon River hugged his neck.
Lunar Fang frowned as she began to hear the sounds of construction closer than she was used to. Taking wing, she looked around the area before she finally spotted the familiar dark blue jacket characteristic of the human she had come to call her friend. “Lord Shawn? What are you doing up there?”
“Building,” he called back.
“On our tower? You didn’t clear it with me,” she replied grumpily. “I was about to try and go to sleep.”
“Blame your husband and Grif. They gave me the message that they are bringing back an airship.”
“An Airship? But that will cut down on--” She let out a sound only a thestral could produce when happy as she did a jig in the air with swoops and rolls. “Well, if you need extra help, you have my permission to pull from the Dream Clan. But if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to follow Fizzpot to the lower levels and get some sleep.”
“Who?”
“Did you not hear what Moon River did?” She asked
“I’ve listened to so many reports, had to reconstruct sets of equipment, KO’d death himself, brought a pony back to life, and had enough blood exit my system that I had to take it easy for a few hours,” Shawn listed. “Even with all that, I’ve missed on so many things that I’m still hearing about.”
“She won her first combat with a Changeling, who is now her Nanny,” Lunar Fang responded before making a tsking sound. “You need to take better care of yourself, and you need your strength for Moon River’s celebration ceremony.”
“Congrats. I’ll add making her first knife to the list,” he said, hanging from a wooden beam as he hammered in yet another nail.
“Thank you. Although tradition dictates it is a dagger, not a knife. I have a material for you to incorporate as well: a Changeling horn.”
“Alright, sounds easy.”
“I hope so.” She gave an aerial bow. “I thank you again for your work on the High Chieftess’ armor.”
“Someone had to make it, and I’m pretty sure nobody else was able to actually forge Ursa bone.”
“Thank you again.” Lunar Fang yawned. “If you shall excuse me, I am going to get some sleep. Also, can you relay a message to Pensword’s unit that their plaza has been moved to the side of the ravine and is coming along nicely?”
“You might see them first.”
“Oh?” Lunar Fang asked.
“I’m going to be up here all day and night, and more probably, until it’s done. I got two weeks to build this...”
“It’s day time for you,” Lunar Fang responded testily. “Sleep time for me. Still, if they stop by, let them know. If not, I’ll tell them next time I see them.”
“Got it.”
“Good night.”
“G’day,” Shawn responded as he continued work.
With a final nod Lunar Fang dipped down and headed inside, her ears folded back from the noise of the one man construction team.
64 - Will You Still Need Me, Will You Still Feed Me?
Extended Holiday Ch 64: Will You Still Need Me, Will You Still Feed Me? Act 8
The doors to the Monastery of Winds were large, ancient stone slabs and as Grif and the party approached, they could hear the grunts from inside as they were pulled open. They revealed a large stone platform where different Gryphons strolled around clothed in simple white robes. It was immediately noticeable that the predominant species were song birds mixed with smaller breeds of cats such as robins, lynxes, jays, and wildcats. Several species of owl were also identifiable.
The monks greeted them cheerfully, if tensely, as they entered the courtyard. Finally, one young acolyte approached, a sparrow with a snow leopard body. “Greetings, Avatar and company. Welcome to the Monastery of the Four Winds.” He bowed. “The Winds Father has asked that I be your guide during your stay and bring you to his office. We’ve awaited your arrival for many a century.”
“I hope I am not being too forward requesting safe stay for all of us.” Grif bowed, looking to the others and signaling they could remove their hoods. The messenger paled considerably as he watched the thestrals, crystal ponies, and last of all, Prince Bellacosa, removing their hoods. “O-o-of course, sir,” he said. “W-w-we offer sanctuary to all who have claim,” he said, trembling.
“What’s wrong?” Grif asked him
“We haven’t had such … noble company before, Avatar,” the acolyte said as he led them across the courtyard, past many other gaping monks, and through the halls. “The Winds Father asked that I bring you to his office first thing.”
“Very well.” Grif nodded as they came to a large oak door. The monk proceeded to open it and Grif gestured for Pensword and Bellacosa to wait.
Pensword moved his mouth as if to protest, a look of worry in his eyes as he flicked his ears around at the sounds of the monks going about their tasks.
“They’re pacifist monks,” Grif reassured the Pegasus. “We’re far more dangerous than they are.”
Pensword gave another look. He heaved a heavy sigh and sat down on the ground. “I will not move from this spot then. But if I hear a sound of trouble, I will come to your aide. Thou didst help me in the past. Let me help you here in the present.”
The door closed behind Grif. For a few moments there was silence before suddenly Pensword’s ears twitched and he winced. Raised voices muffled their way through from the other side of the door. Soon it burst open and Grif stomped out. “Come on. We’re leaving,” Grif told them as he stormed down the hallway.
Behind him, standing at the door, a large ugly figure wearing a luxurious robe fumed. His head was featherless and bald with the countenance of a buzzard, while what pensword could make out of his fur was short and brown with spots. The old Gryphon was shouting obscenities at Grif, and when he eyed the ponies he began a spiel about Grif bringing ‘faithless heathens’ inside the sacred place. This continued on until they stood on the stairs outside the monastery leading back to the gates. Grif didn’t respond or retaliate, not willing to spill blood on sacred ground.
The old buzzard’s shadow flew down from above as he landed by the gates. All the acolytes and priests had gathered to witness the ordeal, attracted by the Winds Father’s lungs. “-- And furthermore, I deny you, Grif Grafson, who claims to be sent by the winds. You have come from the corruption of Equestria to spread your vile ideas into the true--” a choked gasp cut the voice off, causing Grif to turn and look as the Winds Father grasped at his throat. The wind blew strongly from the east and seemed to swirl about the Gryphon. Thin strands of moving air looped like a noose around the blasphemer’s neck. The Winds Father grabbed in vain at the invisible threads, trying desperately to clear his throat. Knowing only too well where this was going, Grif wrapped a wing around Bellacosa’s face as he watched the old Gryphon struggle for life before their eyes. The Winds Father let out a raspy, gurgling craw as he clawed at his chain, striving to pull out the badge of his office. For what purpose, the party would never know. The Gryphon’s face turned pale, then purple, and eventually black as his eyes rolled into the back of his head. Then he collapsed to the ground, dead. The heavy jingle of gold was easily heard as gold coins spilled out from beneath his robes. The monks stood staring, flabbergasted as the wind ceased as quickly as it had begun, leaving the corpse where it lay. Then the monks looked to Grif with a shaky countenance.
Pensword stood there, having joined his own wing with Grif’s to obscure Cosy’s face. His expression was grim. He did not dare speak, nor even move. Right now, it was an unsteady position at best. From what he could gather, a very important figure in the Gryphon Religion had just died being choked to death by wind in a manner incredibly similar to a certain helmet-wearing, black-caped Sith Lord.
“I am sorry,” Grif told one of the monks. “I didn’t know that would happen.”
“... The Winds Father …” one of the monks said as a collective shudder passed through the gathering.
“And behold, in the coming of the great conflict after the Third Great War shall the ripening of corruption be nigh, and the Avatar of Winds shall again walk the earth. Evil shall rise against him, but the winds shall be with him to aid in his quest and ultimate purpose. And though the evil may rage, The Winds shall be his protection and his guide and the harbinger of corruption shall be smitten by the East wind. Hear, ye Children of the Winds, ye warriors, ye fighters, and know that in the fulfillment of these words shall upheaval smite the Empire and the life of the most holy shall be endangered. Guard him well, oh Children of the Winds, for he and he alone shall lead thee into peace and prosperity, and he and he alone shall aid in returning what was lost. And dishonor and corruption shall be purged, making way for the new order to rise in the calamity to befall the Empire and all of Equis, for the evil that slumbers shall waken, and in that meeting must all hatred and enmity be put aside, lest the world return to dust, and all creation become a thing of naught ...” The acolyte who had guided them before stepped forward, closing the book he had been reading from as he trembled.
Grif looked at the monks confused. “What? But that isn’t a prophecy by any prophet I’ve known,” Grif said. “What was that?”
“Darkdraft the wise,” the acolyte explained. “I was just reading through her works this morning before you arrived. She was the only prophetess in recorded Gryphon history; a crow with a panther’s body. She stood as black as the night and foretold grim prophecies of the future. She saved our empire from complete anarchy at one point by warning Emperor Grim Beak of an impending assassination. Had she not intervened, the elders tell us chaos would have erupted and the Empire would have been blown into fragments by the warring kings.”
“Yes, but what does it all mean?” Grif asked. “The Third Gryphon war was over a thousand years ago.”
“Time means little in the way of prophecies, Avatar.”
“Please, just call me Grif.”
“Alright, Grif it is then. But as I was saying, time means little when it comes to prophecies. The winds don’t perceive time the same way that we do. What’s centuries to us is the blink of an eye to them. It said ‘in the coming of the great conflict after the Third Great War.’ That means it happens after the Third Gryphon War, not a specific time though. It also mentioned the Avatar of Winds walking the earth again. In other words, this prophecy is happening here and now. And … if I’m not mistaken,” the sparrow snow leopard mix looked apologetically at his superiors, many of whom were glaring. “The Winds Father was just killed by the wind. And as much as I hate to say it … I think he was the harbinger of corruption. Why else would he be so laden down with gold when we’ve sworn off such finery?”
“What’s your name, monk?” Grif asked.
“I am called Jiraac, sir. I … I have no family, but my brothers in the monastery call me Cloud Claw.”
“Jiraac, will you attend to me and my wife during our stay?” Grif asked him. “I feel like I can trust you.”
Jiraac’s eyes widened. “Me? I-I mean, if you wish, but … does this mean you intend to stay?”
“There are few places within the city that I feel would be sufficiently secure for my charges. It is still sacrilege to spill blood here, is it not?” Grif asked
“Of course. The Winds forbid it.”
“Then I’ll be staying here,” Grif said. “That is, if there is room for all of us?”
“Of course there is. The Avatar is always welcome, as are his friends.” The young sparrow nodded as an older priest approached.
“Would you like a guide to bring you to your chambers, Avatar? I’m certain many of us would gladly assist you during your stay.”
“No, I think Jiraac here is more than capable, father. If you would, could you bring a message to the palace explaining to the Emperor that the Avatar has come to Gryphelheim with a political envoy requesting an audience at his convenience?” Grif asked.
The priest bowed stiffly. “It would be our pleasure,” he said as he made his way to one of the fledglings and whispered in his ear. Then he took another aside and pointed toward the inner portions of the compound. The young one nodded and flew inside and out of sight.
“Also, I would appreciate if these two ponies were placed in the rooms closest to mine.” Grif motioned to Bellacosa and Pensword.
“Of course, it will be our pleasure. We may need to put a couple of beds together for you and your wife, though,” Jiraac said as he led them down the halls and further into the mountain. Eventually they came upon a set of double doors with an adjoining door further down. “These should do nicely for you and your friends. The rest of your men will be housed in the soldiers’ quarters. Was there anything else you needed, Grif?” Jiraac asked as he opened the doors to reveal a fairly simple bedroom. To the left, a large stone slab stood in the middle of what should have been a doorway while to the right, a small door led to an adjoining room where two twin beds lay in wait. A few simple tapestries hung for decoration, worn and ragged with age while several shelves of books and manuscripts lined the walls, clearly indicating the quest for knowledge that was every monk’s dream.
“Jiraac, isn’t that the room of Grask Grimfeather?” Grif asked, pointing. “I don’t want to sound unappreciative, but the room you’ve given me could house others. Why don’t I make use of Grask’s chambers?”
“They’ve been sealed off for centuries, Grif. No one has been able to open them since he died, so we wanted to give you the room that was closest.”
“May I?” Grif asked, gesturing to the door.
“Be my guest,” Jiraac said with a bow as he motioned to the slab.
Grif approached the stone slab, examining it carefully. It was a massive piece of granite covered in old gryphic runes. He traced his talons along it, sweeping off the thick layers of dust. He continued to do so until he uncovered two long, narrow slits. Lifting an eyebrow, he thought back to what he knew about Grask. The former avatar was known for a love of puzzles and a great fascination with the applications of wind magic. He also was never seen without his swords. Grif’s eyes caught the slits again. They seemed almost….
Grif unsheathed Vengeance from his back and compared. The slits where just wide enough. Drawing Vigilance, he pressed the two swords against the slits. The second the tips touched, they sank inwards. Grif let out a startled gasp as the entirety of the two blades were pulled in, leaving only the handles outside. The wind picked up around him without his calling it as the runes around the stone lit up. Suddenly, he could feel something strange. It was almost as though the wind were cycling through the blades and transferring the sensation to Grif, like he was feeling inside the stone itself. This feeling continued and he felt something like metal inside the stone with his mind. Out of instinct, he attempted to push on it. A loud clicking noise emanated from inside the stone. A tumbler? Feeling around with this strange, new ethereal arm, he located several more tumblers, each moving into place with a loud click. As the last one did so, the swords were forced out of the stone as a long divide appeared down the stone slab.
Slowly, and with much protest, the stone separated, opening its mouth wide to reveal the room past it. A simple stone block lay where the bed had been and a thick coat of dust covered every surface. Otherwise the room was completely empty.
Jiraac whistled in admiration of the display, gawking somewhat as he was now honored to be one of the first Gryphons to see the inside of the sealed chamber in over 1500 years. “So the swords were the key?” he asked.
“No, the swords were a lock pick.” Grif laughed. “It’s a lock without a key. To open the door you had to pick the lock with the winds. It’s something no evoker could accomplish because of the fine control required.”
“That’s positively genius,” Jiraac marveled as he examined the stone once more.
“Would it be too much to ask for a broom and a couple extra beds?” Grif asked him. “Please.”
“Right away, sir,” Jiraac said.
About a half hour later the room was looking somewhat more presentable. Thanks to the training he’d received, Grif had been able to help the airborne dust and dirt move out a window and into the outdoors where it belonged while the others had helped to clean and spruce things up. Two mattresses had been carried up and into the room and placed side by side on the great stone slab as Avalon oversaw the work and helped in her own way to organize things.
“I think that about does it, dear,” Avalon said as she surveyed the room one more time. Bright torches burned merrily in their sconces and the room, while mostly stone, was filled with a cheerful light as the finishing touches were placed to make the space livable in the form of a few flower vases, some shields for wall decoration, and a new wardrobe to replace the old, decrepit one that had collapsed in the corner..
“I hope it’s to your standards.” Grif smiled at her.
“A room that’s fit for a queen. Or in this case, a wife.” She raised her brows meaningfully as she smiled at her husband.
Grif immediately turned to face the gathered Gryphons who had assisted with the renovations. “Thank you for your help, but we need to ... unpack,” he said rather hurriedly. “Could we have some Privacy please?”
The Gryphons nodded their heads, bowed in respect, and then left. When everyone had gone, the stone doors closed, giving the two their much needed privacy. The next time the couple would be seen, reports would say they were positively glowing with pleasure.
Pensword was currently bedding in the room that would have held Grif. Now, with the larger room unlocked, he and Cosy were able to take the spare room next door instead. He felt a little calmer knowing he had one less door to worry about to his left. He sighed as he slowly unpacked the few items he kept with him: a journal; a picture of himself, his wife, and his daughter; and the armor on his back. The Gryphons had promised they would move an armor stand in for him later. He sat in a chair meant for a Gryphon, so it dwarfed him. Still, out of habit more than anything else, he settled in as a knock echoed on the door. “Enter,” he spoke. Cosy said he had to see to his guards for a moment, at which point he was going to learn where the Prince would be staying.
“Excuse me?” A Gryphoness entered. Her head was that of a robin with the body of a cougar. “I’m sorry, I’m just going around making a record of the guests’ names,” she told pensword. “May I please have yours?”
Pensword paused. “Did the child give his name yet?” He asked in return.
“Prince Bellacosa has been well looked after.” Her assurance was nothing but genuine.
“Very well.” He took a deep breath. “Pensword Hurricane,” he answered. “However, the public log should be Feather Moon. I assume you know your history and the danger that name holds here in this city.”
“Oh my,” the Gryphoness said as she wrote what he said down quickly. “You’re the Demon of Triumph?” she asked, her voice hovering between fear and excitement.
“I am,” Pensword responded calm and collected.
“I--that is to say, the monastery's historian would greatly appreciate if you could put aside some time and talk with her,” she said. “A viewpoint like yours would be priceless for the records.”
Pensword looked at the Gryphoness. “If you are willing to sit through my bias and anger,” he admitted. “To you all, the war happened three generations ago, possibly a little less. To me--” he pointed a hoof. “--I had to bury my own men, as well as stand shell shocked within the remains of my home town after it had been destroyed.” He narrowed his eyes as dark memories resurfaced once again. “What I have to say may not be pleasant. If she is willing to sit through that, I will give her an evening.”
“With all due respect, sir, all history is valuable,” she told him. “I won’t seek to justify what my people did. I only seek to learn.”
“A good mindset to hold,” Pensword answered. “A piece of advice to give to others you meet: keep a journal of your thoughts and emotions. It lets folks know what you thought during your life for future generations.” He shivered. “I must admit, the Gryphons here have surprised me. I thought that they would either run in terror or try to kill me, yet all the Gryphons have been kind and courteous. I guess things have changed faster than I thought,” he mumbled to himself.
“Our species is stubborn at the best of times, but we do attempt to better ourselves,” she said. “But that’s me, a serial optimist.”
“Understood,” Pensword responded. “Still, do you have any questions for your own curiosity?”
“Oh, I’m not prepared,” she said. “I need ink and paper. I’ll be back soon,” she said, excited as she bolted out of the room.
Pensword snorted into the air. “Happy, mom? I’m trying.” He spoke to the empty room. “Now, I just have to wait for Cosy.”
Lunar Fang smiled, showing her fangs as she slowly stalked in the shadows. She twitched her ear and a moment later let out a squee as she pounced on Vital Spark’s back. “Gotcha.” From a carrier on Lunar’s back, Moon River squealed with joy.
“But do you really?” Vital smirked as Lunar Fang was suddenly lifted into the air by a blue magical nimbus while he stepped out from under her.
“Well, I did want to teach Moon River how to hunt,” she responded. “Also, you seem the least offensive, and easiest to practice on.” She giggled along with Moon River. Behind them, looking very annoyed, was Fizzpot. “Oh, did you know Moon River has her nanny?” She twitched her ears. “How are you holding up with those ears of yours with the construction?” She giggled. “Pensword, well Matthew to your mind, used to love talking about how much he could hear with his pony ears, especially after his Thestral ears came in.”
“I’d say I’m doing pretty good. I kind of got used to it after a while. I’ve lived in a construction zone before,” he said as he lowered Lunar Fang and her foal carefully to the ground.
“Ah,” she responded as a mischievous glint sprung in his eyes. “So, how are you holding up with being … how did you put it as a human, naked?”
“I’m uh … dealing with it.” Vital blushed. “It’s still a little weird, but I’m not so clumsy about it anymore.”
She smiled. “Well that is good. I was going to have tea with the Gryphon Slayers. Would you like to join us?” She asked.
“Thanks, Lunar Fang, but I think I’m going to have to pass. I still have a ways to go in my exercises today, and then I need to work on my target practice and find Clover for some magic lessons. You think we could take a rain check?”
“Very well. Just don’t avoid being with friends. It’s not wise to be all work and no play.” She shook her mane. “Have a good night.” She grinned and whacked him with her wing. “Just keep an eye out. I’m going to test your reflexes now.”
“Wait till after I start combat training, Lunar Fang,” Vital said as he rubbed the back of his head with a hoof. “My reflexes haven’t had time to develop yet. I have pretty much none to speak of.”
“I give no promises. I’m teaching Moon River to be a proper Thestral and that means teaching her to pounce and a few other things besides, so be ready.” She smiled as she continued to trot towards the Gryphon Slayers’ camp.
“... Why do I get the feeling she just found the perfect target?” Vital Spark sighed as he trotted to the field. He had pushups to do and runs to take care of. “No one’s going to touch them again,” he murmured as he twisted his gem, switched to human form, and started jogging.
Shrial sat on the cushioned stool at the counter of Sugarcube Corner, sipping her cocoa idly. She had to admit, it tasted almost as good, if not better than Joe’s. She sighed happily as the kicking finally began to ease. “I swear, these two have to have the biggest sweet tooths I’ve ever encountered. And they’re not even here yet!” She absently rubbed her expanding stomach and smiled. “But that means they’ll be feisty when they’re born, just like their mother.”
“Don’t you worry none,” Mrs.Cake smiled as she placed a tray of chocolate cupcakes down. “You look amazing, dear. When I was that far along with the twins, I looked like a big old butterball.”
“... Is it really that bad?”
“You’re growing people inside you, dear,” she pointed out. “It wasn’t going to be easy, but it’s worth it in the end.”
“Were you still able to get around once you got far enough along?”
“Well, I still had to get to doctor's appointments and around the house, but I didn’t want to move around too much,” she admitted.
“Great.” Shrial rolled her eyes. “That’s just going to make it worse for me.”
“It’s worth it in the end.” Mrs.cake offered a comforting smile.
“Did you feel the need to eat chocolate all the time too?”
“Well, Pumpkin preferred Cinnamon, I think.” She laughed.
“Does it ever stop?” She groaned, taking another shot of hot cocoa and rubbing her temples. “I hardly ever get a good night’s sleep anymore.”
“Are they restless?”
“All the time.”
“There are some exercises I can show you that’ll help you sleep. And there’s also this old family tea recipe I have,” she offered.
“Will it keep them calm without hurting them?” Shrial asked, cradling her stomach again.
“Of course.” Mrs. cake smiled, patting her hands with a hoof.
“I’ll take whatever help I can get. I want Grif to come home to two lovely, healthy girls.” She smiled tenderly at the thought of her husband, and even as she sipped some more of her cocoa, she couldn’t help but wonder what he was doing now half a world away.
“Would you like a refill there?” Mrs. Cake asked, pointing to the cocoa.
“Yes, please. It helps take the edge off the nerves.”
Mrs. cake laughed as she happily refilled the mug.
Pensword looked to Cosy at his side. “Are you sure you want to come with me to this?” They were gearing up for travel into the capital. Pensword looked to his left, feeling nervous without Grif to accompany them.
“I’m going to have to do it some time. If I’m gonna be an ambassador, I have to get to know the people, not just the rulers,” Cosy said.
“Very well, Cosy. I am happy to see you are wearing your armor, though. Shall we depart? It is still early, so we should arrive by the time the doors open.”
“Ready when you are, Uncle,” Cosy smiled.
“So we can get going, then?” A voice spoke up.
Pensword jumped into the air, wings flared and ready for combat in less then a second. Cosy yelped. After the pair had time to calm themselves, they saw who was speaking and relaxed. “Do--?” he paused and turned to the side. “MOM!” he yelled, then waited. “Look, I don’t care if I am, okay? Let me know when Kel’leam is in the room. I do not want to kill him by mistake.” He waited a beat. “Touché, his armor can protect him.”
“... Is everything okay?” kel’leam asked, confused.
Pensword turned to focus on Kel’leam, He opened his muzzle to speak only to be cut off by Cosy.
“Yeah, he does this alot. He can talk to spirits, so he was telling his mom he wanted to be warned when you were in the room.” Cosy smiled.
“Ah,” Kel’leam nodded. “I’m still confused how everyone seems to miss me.”
“I do not know either, but I do enjoy you at my side. You can be a surprise to any who might be against us. Still, you know where we are heading?”
“The war museum, correct? Possibly the market place afterwards?” Kel’leam asked.
“That is correct,” Pensword answered. “We are ready to head out. I hope we get there before it opens.”
“I can’t wait to see all the cool weapons and armor.” Cosy smiled.
“I am wanting to learn more about their war history,” Pensword responded. “I hope you like that itinerary, Kel’leam.”
“I’m here to make sure no one starts trouble for you two,” Kel’leam said. “If not for you two and Grif, I don’t think I’d have set foot here again.”
“How come?” Cosy asked, confused.
“Not all clanless leave Gryphonia by choice,” Kel’leam told cosy with a mournful face. “Not all clanless are innocent either.”
“I don’t understand,” Cosy said, furrowing his brow in a pout. “You’re too nice to be a bad Gryphon.”
Pensword looked to the young colt. “Cosy, do not lose that outlook. Let those of us around you help guard you as you grow.”
“Let’s just say that sometimes nice people do bad things,” Kel’leam told the colt. “And sometimes the right thing isn’t always the legal one.”
“So you did something that was right, but you got punished for it?”
“It’s ... complicated.” Kel’leam sighed. “And it’s a part of my past I’d rather let go of.”
They paused at the stone gates. “Then I shall not ask. We all have parts of our past we would rather let go of.” Pensword’s left ear twitched. “Well, this is going to be fun.” He turned around, “Okay, Kel’leam, do not move from that side of me.” He turned around to look forward as the gate swung open. A platoon of armed Gryphons bearing a large symbol emblazoned on their chest plates stood waiting. Kel’leam tensed at the sight.
“Stand aside in the name of King Draknor, bat pony. We’ve business with the Winds Father,” the leader growled as he shoved his way past, the column following close behind.
“Then the patron of the Avatar shall be sure to apologize to the emperor when he meets with him later,” Kel’leam called out officially. “I’m sure he would be most displeased to hear his important foreign visitors from Equestria were mistreated by his underlings.”
The captain merely chuckled as he continued on his way, the rest of his soldiers breaking into raucous laughter at the comment.
Pensword’s left eye twitched, followed by both ears. A steady shade of fiery red slowly rose up from his neck, then filled his entire head before steam blew out his ears.
Kel’leam lay a taloned hand on Pensword’s shoulder and shook his head.
Pensword stormed off. Few could hear the curses he muttered, but those who did blanched at the threats he made as he stewed in his anger. In the name of decorum, he had to swallow a lot of pride, and he was not happy to do so. Instead, he focused on heading to the war museum, Kel’leam and Cosy in tow.
Grif was already re-strapping on his armor when Avalon woke up over an hour later. “Sleep well?” Grif asked as he noticed her stir.
Avalon stretched and yawned before getting out of bed. “That was heavenly,” she said as she approached Grif. She gave him an absent peck on the cheek as she pulled on her knife belt and donned Grif’s sharktooth. Then she stood in front of the old mirror and preened her feathers.
“So I was thinking of going to the library and finding out about that prophecy Jiraac mentioned, but I also figured seeing as it’s apparently a book only the monks and I am ever allowed to read, you’d appreciate the access to sacred knowledge.”
“Grif, as much as I love knowledge, are you sure the Winds won’t just choke me like they did that old buzzard if I look? There’s a reason why forbidden knowledge is forbidden.”
“It’s not forbidden, it’s secret. And I don’t keep secrets from my wives,” Grif told her. “Besides, if the East Wind or the North Wind attacked you, the South wind would interfere.”
“What makes you say that?”
“‘Cause the South Wind represents love: familial, parental, maternal, paternal, romantic, platonic,” he wiggled his eyebrows mischievously, “and carnal. And my connection to the south is strong, so my love for you would cause it to protect you.”
“Oh. Well, in that case, I suppose a little peek won’t hurt.”
“That’s my girl.” He kissed her forehead. “Just don’t read all the books in the library tonight, okay?”
Avalon smirked. “I make no promises.”
“Let’s go.” Grif smiled as he made his way to the doors. Pushing them open was much easier from inside than outside.
They managed to find a monk who guided them through the numerous hallways and buildings until they made their way to the massive library complex. Walls surrounded them filled with books of all types and shapes that had been fitted into well-carved alcoves. Grif found himself greatly envying Avalon as she turned her head in a total 180 degree turn to take in the room.
“It’s amazing,” Grif said.
“Amazing doesn’t even begin to describe it. The things a Gryphon could learn here … it’s just --.” Her eyes were brimming with excitement as she took it all in and a giddy smile came over her face. “Where do we start?”
“Well I’m no expert on ancient manuscripts and sacred texts,” Grif said as he pointed to a large book standing on a pedestal surrounded by a glass case. Even being close to it caused the feathers on their necks to stand slightly on edge, for anyone who knew magic could feel the heavy enchantments that lay upon the great tome. The large pages where intact, though yellowed from age. The cover was bound in a hide so old and worn Grif couldn’t even identify the creature it came from. The cover held no words, only ancient gryphic runes emblazoned in faded silver. He almost feared to touch it as he approached. “But I’d say this is the book of winds.”
Avalon shuddered as a dim glow came from her satchel. “... No kidding. So are you going to open it? Or do we need to get a monk to remove the case? What’s the deal?” Avalon asked as she firmly tugged the leather straps in place on the satchel, smothering the dim light from any prying eyes.
“I can open it,” Grif assured her as he tapped the casing surrounding the tome. Gryphic runes glowed briefly on it and then it dissipated. “I’ve just never touched something this old before.” He gulped a bit as he laid a talon on the book, momentarily pulling back as if afraid it would crumble to dust around him. When nothing happened, he moved his talons back in place and carefully opened the Book of Winds. The pages where written in Ancient Gryphic and it took some considerable work for Grif to determine the section regarding the strange prophecy. With careful scrutiy, he made his way through the countless ages worth or Gryphon wisdom until he came to the final entries by Darkdraft. He then began Scanning the pages carefully.
“You know, if you need some help, you do have an expert in Ancient Gryphic right here,” Avalon offered.
“Graf was far from unschooled,” Grif said as he scanned the book. “He taught me this stuff during the cold, storming nights.” His eyes scanned the pages, carefully looking for details on this apparent future threat. Shaking his head, he pulled a quill and ink from his bag as well as a scroll and began to convert the passage into Equestrian. “Hammer Strike needs to see this,” Grif said. “The implications are unsettling to say the least.”
“You mean the part Jarrik quoted yesterday? Or is there more?”
“It talks about the return of The Winds, the war, some sort of mass thing between the races, and then an attack that the Avatar must hold off with other unnamed heroes,” Grif said as he wrote.
“Hold on, the return of The Winds? Why wasn’t this made public? All of Gryphonia’s been waiting for them to come back for millennia.”
“Because Diamond Dogs must stand with the Avatar to draw The Winds home,” Grif told her gravely. “And we both know that the few mentions of good Diamond Dogs are highly classified.”
“I haven’t even seen any of them. If there were any, they’d likely be held in the Emperor's palace somewhere. But what’s this about a war? Does it mean the Third Gryphon War or something else?”
“Given what was mentioned in the earlier portion, I believe so,” Grif noded. “That’s why it’s troubling. If this is true, then something very bad is coming.”
Avalon jumped as the sound of grinding stone rumbled through the library, shaking the ground where they stood. Slowly the pedestal began to glow and turn as a series of symbols began to carve themselves in the stones, glowing golden as the blocks began to gradually descend with a loud clank, one after the other. The sound of slamming doors and dropping boulders alerted the pair to the sealing of the library, and several alarmed shouts could be heard muffled through the other side of the entrances. A cool wind blew up from the stones as they finished locking in place, followed by a steady rumble as the winds of the library and the winds of the cavern touched and mingled before brushing playfully along Grif’s and Avalon’s fur and feathers.
“Um, Grif, what just happened?”
“Some kinda hidden chamber?” Grif looked to her. “Fancy an adventure?”
“It’s not like we can go anywhere else,” she said, motioning back to the massive stones that had shifted out from over the entrances and dropped over the doors.
“Then lets have some fun.” Grif smiled as he began to descend down the steps.
Shawn cracked his neck as he finished hammering another nail into place. He rubbed his forehead as he sighed. “Only another half of the structure to build…” he muttered to himself.
“Here you go,” a pink hoof held out a new nail to him.
“Thanks,” Shawn commented as he grabbed the nail, trailing the hoof to Pinkie, who was currently half way out of his pocket, holding his box of nails. “Remind me, what do you do to somehow fit into places such as my pockets?
“I could explain it, but you’d probably end up going crazy,” Pinkie told him.
“Pinkie, I’m already insane by many standards and was consumed by a darkness that whispered knowledge that I shouldn’t have known,” Shawn told her. “If you really don’t want to tell me, alright then. So what brings you around?”
“I simply bust a hole through the dimensional barrier and walk through,” she said.
“That is overly simple. Then again, you can do it by whatever power you have while the reason we got here was by a thin veil where the space between worlds was weak.”
“It’s not that simple and if I don’t dumb it down any more…. I won’t like the result.” Her hair began to deflate a bit.
Shawn simply pat her head as he shook his head. “It’s alright, I won’t question it anymore.” He shook his head as he reached into his other pocket for another tool, only feel two things. He had grabbed cloth, and there was a hand on his shoulder. Looking over at Pinkie, he saw his own hand coming out of her mane and grabbing his own shoulder.
“Uh…” He paused, pulling his arm back and watching as it pulled back into Pinkie’s mane. “I think you did something to my coat.”
“Well… that’s new,” Pinkie responded.
“I’d say. Wait, what about all the stuff I had in my pocket?” he asked after pulling his hand back and felt around in the space.
“Oh, you must’ve connected your pockets to my patented Pinkie place,” Pinkie explained. “It’s where I keep everything I need in the near future.”
After a moment of feeling around, he pulled out the scroll he was looking for. “I’m going to need you to stick around for a while, just until I can figure this out. And by figure this out, I mean figure out how to get things in and out of my pocket without them either poking out of your mane or my own arm coming out of your mane. I’m ahead of schedule on building, so I can take a break anyways. Shall we head to my office?”
“Okie dokie lokie,” Pinkie said, hopping out of his pocket.
A few minutes later they both arrived at Shawn’s office, said office being the workroom where he either signed documents or drew up new things to make. “Alright, so give me a moment,” Shawn said as he undid the buckle holding his coat from opening and removed it, placing it on a dummy he had in the room.
“Why do you have a training dummy in here?” Pinkie asked.
“I get bored sometimes,” Shawn said as his eyes traced over several holes in the dummy and the stone wall behind it. “Turns out my knives can handle a stone wall as well.”
“Wouldn’t want to be on the wrong end of that,” Pinkie said.
“Exactly why the walls are thick stone bricks.” Shawn chuckled. “Alright, let’s figure this out. When you go for something, do you just reach in thinking about it and you get it?”
Pinkie nodded. “Yeah, but if there’s too much in there, things can get complicated, so I try to only keep the things I need right away.”
“Then we have a problem. I had a lot of stuff in my pockets,” Shawn commented as he reached into the other pockets of his coat, every time saying the word: “Empty.”
“Fun times, all the pockets are connected. Problem, all of the stuff in them are now in your Pinkie Space.”
“Anything I should watch out for?” Pinkie asked.
“Knives primarily, and perhaps a few blueprints that you should ignore,” he hummed to himself. “Thaumic Crystals… and a broach.”
“You don’t seem like the type for jewelry.”
“...It was a gift from Rarity,” Shawn replied. “Said I should keep it on me in case I need it.”
“Okie dokie lokie!” she said. “So what do we need to do?”
“Figure things out, such as--” shawn started as he removed the coat from the dummy. “--I know one thing you have in that space and I’m curious if it’s linked to just my items, or if it’s a mixture,” he said, as he looked it over a few times before holding it off to the side like a matador holding a cape. “I’m going to look stupid if this doesn’t work though,” he chuckled.
“I won’t tell anypony,” Pinkie promised.
Shawn whipped the coat over the air. In the space behind the coat something solid interacted back as he revealed…
Pinkie’s party cannon.
“Welp, that answers that one,” Shawn said as he looked it over.
“Wow! Do a bunny! Do a bunny! No, do a cupcake! No, do a bunny made out of CUPCAKES!” Pinkie cheered.
“I think I can do that if you put one in there, but I doubt that you did though,” he said as he moved his coat over his hand and moved it away only to be holding a cupcake shaped like a bunny. “...Why?”
“Why not?” she asked, taking the cupcake and swallowing it.
Shawn moved his coat over the party cannon and the cannon disappeared. “I’ll, uh… try not to take things from the space, though I make no promises,” Shawn told her as he placed his coat on once more, adjusting the buckle back to where it was meant to be.
“Okay, well I’ve got to go. Gummy’s going to give it to me if I’m not home on time for his bath day,” Pinkie said, heading for the door.
Before she could leave, Shawn looked at her. “I take it you put the nails--.” He gestured to her mane. Before she could answer, however, a loud clatter of metal caught them both off guard. Below Shawn was said box of nails. “... I’m going to need practice with this.”
Princess Celestia looked out upon the setting sun as she lowered it with her horn. She was waiting for Luna to eat their meal together. A scroll sat on the table from her student, unfurled with two tea cups holding it open at the corners.
As the moon took its place in the sky, Luna appeared in the room in a flash of moonlight. The lunar alicorn looked more tired than usual as she made her way to the table. The bags under her eyes were painfully visible. “Forgive me, sister. Setting up court has been taxing these last few days.”
“But is it not rewarding?” Celestia responded with a grin. “Also, Twilight sent a report. The Changelings attacked New Unity thinking it was less guarded. They’ve retreated towards the Badlands again.”
“I take it Chrysalis received quite a shock?” Luna asked as she took a sip of tea.
“Yes, she did. You will need to head there during the dreams. ... Vital Spark had to kill and he’s not doing very well.” She looked concerned, pained. “I am worried as well. Did you find out what caused our Commander to head into the heart of the Gryphon Empire? While I applaud his thinking, I worry for his mental health.”
“As I understand it, Prince Bellacosa had decided he would be heading there as a diplomatic venture,” Luna explained. “He requested Grif and pensword as a personal escort.”
“Yes, I understand that. But before he left, did you not see the concern in his eyes? Something else is bothering him. I might have found something myself, but I am wondering if you did your own digging.” She smiled wistfully. “I miss your little trips into learning what you can about a topic that interests you.”
“My trip into the kingdoms was very enlightening, yes, but it was quite clear the Gryphons didn’t enjoy my company so much as I did theirs,” Luna reminded her sister. “Unless attempting to kill you when you get home is a sign of favor.”
“No,” Celestia responded. “I guess we’ll simply have to wait for his report then.” She took a sip of her tea. “Sister, I would like to say that when the diplomatic trip is over, we should put your bill to the joint courts.”
“Oh?” Luna questioned her sister. “Wouldn’t such a bill look unneeded after a diplomatic visit?”
Celestia shook her head. “Luna, the Gryphons from some of my confidants are reporting an unusual amount of personal armies under the Gryphon nobles heading to the Capital. Two of my friends over there have even gone silent. I fear they might be aiming to finish what they tried to start with Daedalus' parents. That means this visit may be returning with an unstable region that could allow the Minotaurs to react and take action. Then the Zebrican kingdoms would have to mobilize. I’ve been having a few disturbing dreams as of late, and I worry that what I built upon a thousand years ago was nothing more than a foundation of clay. I pray to mother it is not so, but I’ve put this off long enough.” She smiled warmly and put a wing around her sister. “Besides, with how weak the military is, you get to rebuild it how you see fit.”
“You worry of a rebellion when Commander Pensword and Grif Grafson Bladefeather are in the country’s heart?” Luna laughed. “I put very little beyond those two.”
“Be that as it may, I want your bill there as a means to usurp any of the other nobles’ petty plans. Baron Blueblood worries me. The last time a house even hinted at acting like that, we put flames to their name.” She frowned. “Never again. I want to cut them off at the pass. Your bill is the perfect way to do it, and--” she spread her wings “-- it shows just how much I trust my sister upon her return and freedom from that parasite.” She lowered her wings. “I want to see you happy, Luna. Yes, I hate to say this furthers politics, but it’s worth it to hear how much your subjects love you and how important the night has become to our little ponies.”
“Very well, sister, but you know full well I cannot begin to process the bill until the summit is over,” Luna said.
“You make a fair point. We need to bring Cadence up to date on our plan, not to mention Twilight. If all four of us approve, I doubt that even the most foolish of the nobles would be willing to stand against it.”
“You underestimate them.” Luna sighed.
“Luna, if anything, they’ll be looking to match your Thestral forces out of sheer jealousy. You have the finest military force in Equestria, second perhaps to that of Hammer Strike’s, if that. I’m fairly certain they’ll agree.” She smiled as she took another sip of her tea.
“Fair point, sister, but I think we should keep it to a city state basis, rather than separate nobility, or we will have civil war within ten years,” Luna noted.
Celestia smiled. “A wise insight. You’ve grown up so fast, Luna.” Celestia smiled and walked to her sister as she took her in another winged embrace. “Sometimes I miss that little filly I used to look after, but you’ve made me so proud.”
“I appreciate that.” Luna smiled at her sister.
Celestia chuckled. “Come on, let’s play some chess, hmm? I want to see just how sharp that military mind of yours has become. And maybe get the chance to whoop your sorry flank,” she said playfully.
“It will be a cold day on the sun when that happens.” Luna laughed as she moved to the board.
Pensword paused within the walled courtyard in the front of the Grand Imperial War Museum. Carved in stone with grand Gryphons in armor and a fountain built to impress and even awe the visitors, he found himself unpleasantly surprised. Taking a moment, he closed his eyes to reign in his temper before returning to the sight. He felt a gentle tug on one of his wings as he looked down to an impatient looking Bellacosa.
“Uncle, can we go inside now, please?” the young colt begged. “I wanna see all the cool weapons.”
He smiled as if at some inside joke. “Let’s go. Be ready to pay a fee though. Most places have that. You will guide me, as this is your time to play tourist. I am simply along for the ride.”
Cosy giggled. “I know you wanna see the weapons just as much as I do, Uncle. Don’t try to hide it.” Kel’leam smiled goodnaturedly at the foal as Cosy pulled Pensword toward the entrance, where a Gryphon sat waiting to collect the fee.
Pensword nodded and paid the fees happily. The guard thought he overpaid, not noticing Kel’leam as he passed by as well. “Well,” Pensword spoke up as he found a map of the museum. “The collection of weapons are in the West Wing. The second floor has a back wing that shows...” he paused as he read through the items. “Hmm. After the weapon exhibit, where do you want to go?” he asked, afraid he would ask for the Equestrian campaigns.
“How about we look at the Crystal Empire stuff? I didn’t think they’d have anything about us,” Cosy said, a little surprised as he noticed the symbol of his homeland, the mighty crystal heart.
Pensword twitched his left wing in surprise. “I agree.” He steeled himself in having to walk through what most likely was information on the Third Gryphon War from the empire’s viewpoint. “Well, the weapons are first.”
Racing into the room, several older pieces of armor, including more dilapidated sets that had clearly been torn through by sword and arrow, sat on Gryphon sized mannequins as the trio made their way from exhibit to exhibit.
“And here, we see the armor of General Steelclaw Talonfang. This Gryphon was one of the many martyrs who died at the hands of the Ponies during the Third Gryphon war. It is necessary to note, however, that he did die honorably in a duel he himself had initiated. It is not known who his opponent may have been. Some theorize it was a golem, others that a Unicorn Lord came and used his magic to an unfair advantage. Suffice it to say, the battle was ultimately lost, and a new general needed to be chosen. Thus was the beginning of the tragic fall of the tenth brigade of the Emerald Talons,” a Gryphon guide explained, motioning towards the holes in the armor.
“Warriors attempted to recover the blade with which Steelclaw had been killed, but reports claim it was too heavy for any Gryphon to lift, and so it was left in the battle field whilst the general’s second proceeded to carry his commanding officer back to the camp. A contest of arms followed to determine who should succeed the position. The museum is currently in negotiations with the war memorial at Canterlot to see if we can’t get his halberd and shield on loan, but they can’t seem to find it in their archives, or so they say.”
Pensword saw Cosy about to answer. “No,” Pensword whispered, cutting Cosy off. “At the moment, we do not want to draw attention. If they speak ill of a living friend, you may ask questions and ruffle some feathers, but we have to be polite. This is their museum and maybe even a memorial to past and fallen warriors. Just keep still till we reach the Crystal Empire exhibit.”
“Awwww, but I wanted to know more about what happened. I didn’t get to hear much about the Third War.” Cosy pouted.
“You will. We have to go through the Third War to reach the exhibit, so be patient.” Pensword paused as his ears twitched. Looks like the guide is speaking again.” They were standing in front of a large model of one of the smaller outposts Pensword recognized as Fort Lunar Fang.
“This is a miniature recreation of the first Gryphon fortress to fall into Pony hooves. It is uncertain as to what really occurred behind those walls. The officers’ logs indicate several troops suffered from extreme sleep deprivation and a plague of nightmares. We assume it was likely some form of mental warfare the Ponies developed at the time, but we are still uncertain as to the exact nature of the malady and its method of inoculation. Certain scholars believe it to be a type of Unicorn spell that was cast to blanket the fort, though it is deemed unlikely since a spell of that magnitude would have required several Unicorns of the Alpha class to pull off and maintain for any extended period of time. One scholar, a certain Arcturus the Mad dared to claim the Bat Pony creatures, also known as Thestrals, had somehow developed an art which allowed them to enter into creatures’ dreams. A positively ridiculous sentiment of course, which is why his doctorate was immediately revoked and to this day, his descendants are often forbidden to practice any art of a scholarly nature, lest the madness prove hereditary.”
Pensword remained neutral, even as the comment about Thestrals boiled his blood.
“Um … sir?” Cosy asked timidly. “I … I don’t want to be rude, but what’s that over there?” The colt asked, pointing to a large, cracked painting. Thunder and lightning brooded overhead with a malevolent creature somewhat akin to Nightmare Moon, only without the horn. Its fangs were elongated and blood dripped off its ends as it threw its head back and laughed. Beneath the pegasus, a pile of bloody corpses stood in graphic detail, their wings scattered around them in a pool of blood. The most frightening of all were the slitted eyes as they glared out on the gathered throng. Ghostly figures hovered behind him in the cloud as dust hovered in the background, symbolizing a horde of enemies. To the right, a lone scout held up his spear in defiance as he screeched at another pony. This one was a bat-winged creature with sword in hoof, diving for the kill. If one looked closely enough, the image of an umbrella with a crescent moon on it could just be made out. A cloak of shadows billowed behind her as it stretched around the lone Gryphon to consume him.
“That painting is called ‘The Demon’s Advance.’ It’s one of Cravenclaw the Ghast’s most gristly works, finished shortly before the death of His Holiness, Emperor Galileo Galeli Galefeather: well known as a patron of the arts and humanities, his casual attitude towards the art of war ultimately led to his untimely demise at the end of the Eighth Dynasty. The creature you see feasting on Gryphon blood is the legendary Commander Pensword Hurricane, one of the few strategists of Equestria capable of matching wits with Gryphonia’s finest. It is said he delighted in the blood of his enemies and drank it eagerly, gleefully shearing wing from bone to prevent our soldiers’ passage into the afterlife and strand their spirits on the ground for all eternity. He is our greatest challenge, and our greatest embarrassment. The mare you see attacking the final Gryphon is his wife, Lunar Fang. A powerful warrior in her own right, her cold cunning led to the destruction of many a battalion in the assault on Fillydelphia. Her vicious nature made her a perfect match for her mate. It is said Pensword dispatched over a hundred Black Tips on his own in hand to hoof combat before they were outlawed and disbanded towards the end of the Tenth Dynasty.”
“What about Celestias Ghost?” one of the Gryphons in the crowd asked.
“You’re referring, of course, to the Pony Lord Hammer Strike of Equestria. Little is known of his origins and history. For many a century, his name was relegated to legend and myth. It’s not entirely clear what role he had to play during the events of the war, but one thing that is known for certain is he had a direct hand in the destruction of the fortress Shertugal and its razing to the ground. By what means or magic, we do not know. One thing he is well known for, however, is his strength and skill at arms.”
Pensword stood there listening, and while they talked, he felt pride and joy at seeing the painting: the perfect expression of the fear and pain he had caused them. He took a steadying breath as he felt an unusual pang of guilt as well, but he knew where it came from: his other half. The human Matthew felt worry and shame at how those around him viewed his actions.
“And last, but not least, we have the ‘Grif the Egg Smasher’ Exhibit. As an orphan found in the Northern Isles, Grif was raised by Graf, formerly of the Farflyer Clan. For his daring to adopt and care for an orphan, he was shunned and mocked, barely acknowledged by his fellow Gryphons, but don’t be fooled. Graf was a warrior of the old ways, and more importantly, a warrior without peer. He taught Grif the ways of war and made him a scholar as well as a warrior. Having been raised by such a formidable fighter with such revolutionary ideals, it was only natural that he would be different than most Gryphons of the time period.
“Scholars aren’t entirely certain what might have been done to cause him to turn on his own kind. Some believe he went mad, others that he was put under some sort of spell. What is certain, however, is that after meeting the legendary Hammer Strike, he swore his allegiance to the Ponies. From that point on, Grif Grafson became a staunch supporter of Equestria, and soon after, a dedicated killer and assassin to many of Gryphonia’s most influential generals. He made it a common practice to cut off the wings of every Gryphon he slayed before burning their bodies and leaving their ashes to be taken by the winds and the earth. The wings were then nailed to Pony Fortresses as trophies and warnings to curse the ground and ward off future invaders. On occasion, he even allowed himself to be captured for the sake of taking his targets.
“However, his greatest victory came at the historical tower of the Evokers, called the Fortress of the Arcanium. It is uncertain just what happened in this tower. All that we know is that a great battle was fought and a massacre slaughtered practically every Evoker there. In later centuries, we learned the tower was in fact the location of the final resting place of the legendary Grask Grimclaw Dragonfeller, the first Avatar of Winds. Historians have been trying to get permission to enter the tower for centuries, but since Grif was technically the one to conquer the tower, it belongs to him. Negotiations are ongoing. It’s not entirely clear how, when, or why, but Grif has been named the Avatar of Winds, being the second Gryphon in the history of the empire to be capable of wielding wind magic to its fullest capabilities. A great deal of controversy surrounds him, and a great deal of mystery. However, for better or for worse, he has been chosen, and he walks among us today.”
“But if he was there a thousand years ago, how is he alive?” a young fledging from the crowd asked, confused.
“He slept in stone in the crystal empire,” Kel’leam spoke up suddenly, causing the room to jump. “He was injured fighting the fallen king Sombra, but his blood oath wouldn’t let him fall until the king was dead.” He looked down at the fledgling. “And his name is Grif Grafson Bladefeather.”
“And you would know this, how?” the guide asked skeptically. All eyes were on the heavily armored Gryphon.
“Because I bear his name,” kel’leam answered as he stood up, fully revealing his polished chestplate and the symbol emblazoned onto it. “Though the way he tells it he is far less glorious.”
One of the elder Gryphons in the crowd sneered. “And you expect us to swallow this finch spittle? Earth Magic is far beyond the skills of any Gryphon, let alone a pony.” He chuckled grimly at Kel’leam.
Kel’leam tensed his muscles, preparing to draw his lance when he felt a gentle hoof on his arm. Cosy looked up at him and smiled before stepping forward.
“What’s your name, mister?” he asked.
“They call me Ishmael. Ishmael Spearhunter.”
“Gah!” Pensword muttered in shock as Matthew executed a perfect anime face-fall in his mind. The statement was one he knew well from Earth, even if it did come from a book he’d never read.
“You know Grif’s come to Gryphonia, right? Word of that’s probably been spreading since we got here yesterday. My family paid him to escort me here to Gryphelheim to meet with the Emperor. My name is Bellacosa Sonata Orchestra, Crown Prince of the Crystal Empire. He stood boldly as he tore off his cloak to reveal the armor underneath. “And I was there when the war took place. Grif Grafson fought to save our lives. He protected my sisters and me from everything Sombra threw at us. I was there when the spell was cast, and I was cast in stone with him, Hammer Strike, Pensword, and my sister, Alto. No normal Unicorn could have cast that spell, but the caster was no normal Unicorn. Starswirl the Bearded encased us in stone before our empire was whisked forward in time by King Sombra’s dark magic. The power of the Crystal Heart released us from our hibernation after Princess Twilight restored it to my big sister, Queen Cadence. Let me set the record straight. It happened, and Kel’leam here was telling the truth.”
In a sudden flash, Cosy’s coat renewed its shine as a blazing light flared on his flanks. When all had returned to normal, Cosy stood upright and bold, his crystal coat glimmering and refracting the torch light as two identical marks glowed peacefully on his flanks showing a crystal blade and trumpet crossing one another as the trumpet blew. Behind them, a blue crystal heart pulsed in time with a purple treble clef as a golden crown inscribed itself circling the loop at the top of the clef. Cosy glared at the assembly. “Anypony else got a problem with that?”
Pensword just watched, first in shock and chagrin, but slowly, a grin grew on his face and pride warmed his heart at seeing what he saw. Cosy had just gotten his cutie mark, and he had been privileged to witness the event.
The reaction of the crowd ranged anywhere from pure amazement to low growls and the air was filled with tension rather quickly. Kel’leam’s talon was a hairsbreadth away from his spear just in case before the tour guide did his best to break things up.
“Perhaps it would be best if we carried on to our Crystal Empire exhibit?” he suggested.
“That might be wise,” Pensword answered, only too glad to be incognito at the moment. He briefly considered drawing the ire from Cosy by revealing himself, too, but at the moment, it seemed a bad idea. They were close enough to a riot as it was.
They had been descending for almost an hour and Grif was certain they should have been in the open air about five hundred steps prior. “Avalon, I thought the monastery was entirely made of stone,” Grif said suddenly.
“It is,” Avalon said matter-of-factly.
“This is cloud,” Grif said, poking the step beneath him.
“You’re kidding,” Avalon said as she stepped ahead. Her eyes widened in the dark as she felt the moist, soft, cool touch. “Winds, you weren’t. But how?” she asked.
“I was beginning to wonder how we hadn’t fallen from the floor yet,” Grif said as they kept going. Several minutes later, they finally came to the end of the staircase and a large wooden door. Grif looked to her. “Should we?”
“Do we even have a choice?”
“I guess not.” Grif sighed. “Or wonder till it drives you mad, what would have happened if you had,” he quoted as he pushed the door open. On the other side, a cloud chamber stood waiting for them. Shelves occupied every area of “wallspace” and those shelves were occupied by thousands upon thousands of books, tomes, and scrolls. Perches were set up everywhere bearing every species of owl imaginable.
‘Welcome!’ The voice was male, but it seemed ancient and wise and it came from practically everywhere all at once. Grif and Avalon’s eyes were drawn to the center of the room, where a long, serpentine body lay coiled. Feathers sprouted from scaly hide impossibly along every inch of the body, and every feather and scale shone with every color imaginable. A large pair of feathered wings were the only limbs this creature held aside from its long tail. Its feathery head held sharp, draconic eyes and a long snout full of fearsome teeth.
“... I don’t know whether to be scared or honored,” Avalon whispered to her husband.
“Hello, Lord of the East Wind,” Grif said as he managed to gain a hold of himself. Carefully, he bowed to the ancient being.
‘I take it, then, that you know why I have revealed myself to you?’ the Quetzalcoatl asked
“I already had the chance of meeting with your Southern sister,” Grif responded. “I must say, while her music was beautiful, I find your surroundings the more favorable.” Grif smiled as he looked around at the books.
‘You are both welcome at the grand parliament.’ The Quetzalcoatl nodded his large head. ‘Come forward, Avalon Bladefeather.’
Avalon looked nervously at Grif before following the great creature’s instruction. “I-it’s an honor to stand before you, sir,” she said.
In a flash of light, Avalon’s focus appeared before the great beast, supported in an aura of a color neither Avalon nor Grif could name. ‘This was an admirable creation, given your circumstances. Snowy was quite proud you chose her feather.’
“Snowy?” Avalon questioned. “You mean the owl I took from?” She winced at the memory.
A familiar snowy owl flew from her perch and proceeded to land on Avalon’s back. It cocked its head at her, twisting it around even as Avalon did the same to see it properly. Then it bowed and hooted breathily at her.
“Um … thank you, I guess,” she said, having never communicated with a bird before. “It … didn’t hurt, did it?”
The owl hooted back to her in a tone that, somehow, she could understand.
‘I am afraid, however, you can no longer use this core,’ the Quetzalcoatl continued as his magic began to loosen the core from its housing.
Avalon bowed her head, resigned. “I’ll take whatever punishment you deem fit.”
‘You misunderstand me, child.’ The dragonbird roared with laughter as the owls hooted in chorus. ‘You cannot use this core because you cannot use the feather of your familiar on your focus.’ With these words the feather burned to nothing inside it’s quartz case. ‘Besides, for the path ahead of you, you will require something much stronger!’
“I’m sorry … what?” Avalon asked, more than a little confused. She looked at Grif, who simply shrugged in response.
‘The evokers took what our parents gave them and corrupted it, twisted it into something vile!’ The Quetzalcoatl snarled briefly before returning to his neutral pose. ‘But the winds did not decree magic should cease. An enlightener was to be chosen, and Gryphon magic was to be reborn. You are to be that enlightener. And for that, my dear, you will need greater power!’ With a groan, he used his magic to rip a feathered scale from his form and insert it into her core. ‘For such power, you will require a familiar, which Snowy has graciously volunteered to be, and a focus far stronger than any evoker ever carried.”
“Me?” Avalon asked in disbelief. “I was chosen by the winds?”
‘Of course you were. Why do you think Grif was drawn to you in the first place? Why else do you think your spell worked the first time? Why do you think your eyes were changed? Why do you think you’re still alive?’ He chuckled. ‘That spell of yours should have blown up in your beak. If it weren’t for our parents’ orders and our combined blessing to stabilize the spell, it would have.’
Avalon trembled as the full significance of what the Lord of the East Wind had said took hold. The snowy owl hopped up to her shoulder and hooted comfortingly as she preened Avalon’s cheek.
Taking the casing in his magic, the Quetzalcoatl vaporized it. Seconds later, In a flash of light, a beautiful new casing manifested in two pieces. The inner caging was forged from mythril and covered in runes so old, Avalon realized they predated even Ancient Gryphic. The other shell was forged of polished bronze with four small gems embedded in each of the principal directions in a manner similar to her original obsidian design. Long lines of Ancient Gryphic were emblazoned in the bronze all the way around. Avalon found she could even understand some of them: ancient names and words of power. As the quartz slid into place and the two halves came together, the inner cage rotated until it locked parallel to the other shell. The rainbow-feathered scale at the core illuminated the polished metal with an almost unearthly glow.
‘Take this focus in your hand,’ the Quetzalcoatl calmly instructed as the focus levitated before her. ‘For with this focus, you, shall do, our wonders!’
Avalon took hold of the new focus and a blinding golden light filled the room as the owls chorused above them. A blast of wind blew through the room from where she stood as it ruffled her feathers. When the light had died down, Avalon stood in the midst of a dim corona which surrounded her and Snowy as the owl perched on her head with her wings spread wide. Avalon slowly took the focus and held it to her breast as she bowed her head. Tears dripped from her beak and joined the water vapor of the clouds on which they stood.
‘I realize this is much to take in, my dear, but I am afraid we only have three days in which I am to mold the two of you. When you are ready,’ the Quetzalcoatl looked to his left and the cloud shaped itself into a table and a chair, growing up out of the floor. Several large, thick volumes proceeded to stack themselves on the new table. These volumes will allow you to glimpse into hidden knowledge. Use it wisely, or else become a victim to it!’
“If I might ask a question before we begin, sir?” Avalon asked.
‘The quest for wisdom always begins with a question,’ the Quetzalcoatl said with a rumbling chuckle. ‘Tell me, what is yours?’
“Why me? And how did the grimoire find me? How did you know I was supposed to be the one?”
‘Because your name has been carried on the winds for centuries, child. Our parents prompted Galadriel Farseer, the first Evoker taught by Grask, to compile the volume with certain instructions and enchantments. It was basic for its time, but as you are aware, it held what you needed to begin your training. Once the grimoire read your heart, it bonded to you, as was its design. And where better to hide such a novel than the bottom of a lake? You passed the rite of acceptance when you used your first focus to save your father, and while it was not altogether wise, your actions had merit in courage, love, and fortitude. You are a seeker, Avalon. A seeker of knowledge, of wisdom, and of growth and progression. In your predecessors, this lead to their downfall because they chose to let their hearts shrivel in selfishness, greed, and a lust for power. You, on the other hand, are more well balanced. After Grif here killed off the Evokers, the magic reservoirs of you children had to grow once again. You are the first to break the barrier, and more will join you in due course. But that is for a later date. I’ve taken enough of your time. Come, it’s time to study.’
“But--”
‘No buts. I’ve said what I can. If you want the rest, you need to study,’ he said, motioning to the books.
Avalon let out a defeated sigh. “Yes, sir,” she said as she approached the desk. She absently attached the new chain that had been forged with the focus around her neck and sat at the desk as Snowy flew onto an empty perch just above her new mistress.
‘As for you, Grif.’ The Quetzalcoatl motioned with his tail as a new large doorway formed on the east wall. ‘Follow me. We have a lot of work to do! The dragon-bird flew through the doorway before Grif could say anything else.
“Bu--bu-- where’s my books?” Grif whined, his eyes a brighter tint of blue as he followed reluctantly.
Luna prowled the dream corridor for the fifth time searching for Vital Spark’s dream door.
“Tis three o’clock in the morning. Surely he wouldn’t still be awake by now,” she exclaimed as she continued her search. Shawn’s door was plainly visible with its distinctive cross pattern and multiple rectangles, but there was still no sign of their fourth guest. “Wait a moment.” She turned back to the familiar white door. “Hammer Strike’s asleep? Strange, it doesn’t feel like him.”
She moved forward and pushed on the door with a hoof, finding it opening far more easily than any previous time she had visited Hammer Strike’s dreams.
A familiar blackness filled the room as the door shut behind her, disappearing in the shadow. She had felt a similar darkness in Shawn’s consciousness when he had first come to Equestria. Could it be that Vital Spark suffered a similar malady? No, this felt different somehow. The other blackness was ordered, controlled, practically enforced. This one felt restless, chaotic, like a calm before a storm. Whoever’s dream this was, he or she clearly had little to no control of what they saw when they slept.
“Hello?” Luna shouted. Silence greeted her. She felt a sense of hesitancy and the darkness roiled around her. Her horn glowed as a large energy sphere surged forward, stabilizing the scape. Eventually she could make out a large bed where the human lay, his simple cotton bedclothes rustling in the sheets as he tossed and turned.
“Conor? Conor?” she called.
Conor remained silent, doing his best to hold still.
She shook him with a hoof, finally knocking him out of the bed by accident.
“Augh, okay, okay, I’m awake,” Conor grumbled as he squinted with his eyes into the blackness. He rubbed them tiredly. “What is it, Luna? You need to take me to the other side of the world again?” he asked, still not aware of the dreamscape.
“Conor, do you know where we are?” she asked.
“The castle,” he said as he sat back down on the bed. “Where else?” A wavering image of the castle walls and stone floor appeared around them like a mirage.
“This is your dreamscape,” Luna told him. “Are you not aware of your own dreamscape?”
“I don’t really remember my dreams all that much,” Conor said as he looked over the wavering images. “I do most of my dreaming during the day since I can’t remember the ones in my sleep. Every time I start to lucid dream, I either have to sit back and watch helplessly as I’m acted upon, or else I wake up as I try to interact in it.”
“I see,” Luna said. “I have strengthened this dreamscape so we can talk,” Luna offered.
“So I can’t wake up until after you go?”
“That’s how it works generally, yes,” Luna nodded.
“And I can influence my dream however I want?”
“Yes, of course.”
Instantly the room shifted, wavering as the walls became an opaque white and slowly closed in around them to form a square with a leaning ceiling. Two pairs of track lights, one mounted on each wall, pointed down on the tan carpet. The bed had shifted to a metal frame with jutting metal spokes at the edge. A large comforter and a child’s blanket lay over the top of it with a pair of pillows. Behind Conor, a single windowsill with a makeshift red drapery made from a thin cloth blocked out the moonlight. He moved to the side table next to the bed and twisted a knob to flick on a light. A bookshelf stood to the left against the wall with all manner of fictional works from the human word, including strange names such as Roald Dahl, C.S. Lewis, J.R.R. Tolkien, and many more. Lastly, Conor turned to face a door in the corner of the room, the same door Luna had just entered from.
“What is it with you humans and reading rooms?” Luna asked, looking around.
“This is my room. The one I had before I came to Equestria, I mean. It used to be our family’s study before my parents finally felt it was better to separate me and my siblings into our own rooms. So yeah, there are a lot of books here. I really enjoy fantasy too, so I really didn’t mind too much.” Conor plopped down on the bed, the familiar creak of the metal frame both relaxing and somewhat painful to him.
“I understand you have been having some trouble lately?” Luna asked him.
“Which one? The getting whisked away from my family, getting used to being naked, having to fight a war?” He chuckled. “I have so many more.” A shadow started to form on the wall next to the bookshelf.
“It seems my work is definitely cut out for me,” Luna said. “Lets begin with one of the more recent ones, your first blood.”
Conor shrugged as an old pair of sweatpants and a shirt with a large wolf on it replaced his silk pajamas. “Fire away,” he sighed. Behind Luna, the shadow grew more substantial as a frame began to form.
“I know a warrior’s path isn’t for everyone, and even for warriors, first blood is never easy. How are you dealing with it?”
“About the same way I always do with death, honestly. I’m still in the numb stage right now. Thanks for asking directly though instead of just guessing and trying to help by manipulating my dream to teach me a lesson. I prefer talking to people most of the time.”
“Those who have never fought in battle cannot truly understand what battle is like,” Luna noted.
“Fair enough. I’ve certainly read enough about it, seen a few photos, and even watched some war flicks. It’s just … I never thought I’d actually have to kill so soon, you know? And not like that.” He shuddered as the body of the changeling he’d turned into a gory pincushion appeared in front of him, the other six laying at its side. He hadn’t wanted to see them, but it had taken long enough to de-barricade the doors afterwards that he couldn’t help but catch a glimpse. They’d been burned into his mind ever since.
“I always thought I had a good handle on my emotions, but now, even the slightest twinge can send my magic in the wrong direction.” He sighed again, though he still looked surprisingly calm. “That’s why I need to learn to use it, even if it does make me feel guilty. I can’t afford not to. Not if something like this is going to happen again,” he said, motioning to the still forms bleeding on the carpet. Next to the bookshelf, bolts and rivets had begun to form, pushing out from the paint in the wall with a set of heavy steel hinges.
Luna looked towards the door “Whats this?” she asked.
Conor looked up as the loud clank of a dungeon door slamming hit home and the door materialized. Two heavy metal chains tied to a giant padlock hung in the center, clinking and shaking. “A door that can never be opened,” Conor said warningly.
“Some secrets must rest beyond the light.” Luna sighed.
“I’m glad you understand. That’s where I shove every single dark and disgusting thing I have ever seen or experienced, including various acts I’m not too proud of, even if they’ve already been resolved and I’ve changed. I try to keep them at bay, but sometimes--” The door began to bulge and press in certain places as Conor approached and lay his hand on it. Slowly it returned to its original state. “--they try to get out. And they succeed. And then I have to ask for a little help to get them back where they belong.”
“Then don’t be afraid to call should you ever need me,” Luna told him.
“I know, Luna.” He smiled and went over to hug her. “Thanks for showing you care. It’s not really that I don’t want to let anyone in to help or anything like that. Honestly, I think I’m past the actual shock of the act. It’s more just me learning to let go after the effect, and I can only do that with time.” He sighed as the door pressed back with a reluctant shriek of dragging metal and the changelings disappeared. In their place, a window hovered, showing what had happened when Vital Spark had found Black Rook being bound by the changelings. “On the plus side, at least I was able to help Rook after the fact.” He smirked and let loose a dry laugh. “Interesting thing about me. It’s very hard to get me really angry, and I mean really angry, not the annoyance I felt with Renati, I’m talking about a burning kind of anger that nothing can hold back and drives you to extreme measures. When that finally happens though …” he motioned to the window. “Let’s just say I’m glad I still have control over my actions even then,” he said as the changelings were rapidly knocked out and sent flying past their queen.
“Are you going to be okay?” Luna asked him.
Conor chuckled as he sat down on the bed again. “To tell you the truth, Luna, I honestly don’t know yet. Like I said, these kinds of things take time, and in my case, maybe a little prayer. I’m sure you’ve noticed by now, we humans can be pretty complex at times.” He casually raised a hand and sent out a white orb that promptly exploded on a shade that had formed on the floor. “On the plus side, I can actually use my imagination at a visual standpoint here to beat anything I don’t want to creep up on me. And I get to live a fantasy or two.” He smirked as his bed clothes suddenly switched to a set of sturdy boots with a type of royal armor colored in blues and red. A red cloak billowed behind him as a sturdy amulet set with his cutie mark formed with a thin chain around his neck. A rather large sword appeared in a belt and sheath on his left as his hair blew in a wind that wasn’t there before the same mark appeared on his forehead. He smiled.
“It’s not every day I get to be my dream self,” he said as ten silver rings with various symbols, gems, and designs appeared on his hands, one for each finger and thumb.
“That is ... an interesting costume,” Luna noted.
“He was basically my escape while I was in school. You know about Diamond Tiarra and her antics in Ponyville, right?”
“May I assume, then, that you also had bully trouble?” Luna asked.
“I had to deal with just about everyone in my class either giving me the cold shoulder or treating me the same way Diamond treats Scootaloo, and I had to face it for a lot of years before I got some good, steady friends. This is Prince Conor of the Kingdom Solaria,” he said, motioning to the outfit. “He’s basically an overpowered hero who is constantly pulled into situations where he has to save the day or is the chosen one.” Conor chuckled. “It actually gets to the point where he’s sick of it, but it just won’t stop. At least not until his last adventures when he awakens as the prince and remembers his past life before rebirth and/or reincarnation. He can transform, heal, summon mini-supernovas with controlled blasts and pinpoint accuracy, use aura balls like bullets, and has an incredibly powerful magical artifact that is hereditary to the royal line of his kingdom and helps him to fight evil. I used to imagine being him as he got sucked into worlds. He was basically a ‘what would have happened to me if I’d been put through these situations’ type of thing. It helped me pass the time during recess.”
“Retreating into the mind when you found the outside too hostile.” Luna nodded. “I’ve had to do that myself before.”
“I know. It’s not fun to be ignored or mistreated. It makes you feel empty and worthless. If I didn’t have help from my family and a psychologist, I don’t know what I would’ve done. I’d actually considered killing myself once or twice. Pushed the thoughts away of course, but it happened all the same. I learned to hate during that time and it nearly turned me into something that wasn’t me. It actually did for a while. I guess in that way, you and I have something in common.”
“No, you managed to turn from it,” Luna said. “I let my hate consume me, make me a monster.”
“Except it wasn’t just you. You had help, and not the good kind, to push you in the right direction.” A shadowy form appeared and materialized wearing black and chuckling. Aside from that and the lack of the flashy jewelry, he was practically Conor’s twin.
“Awww, isn’t that sweet?”
“Oh, shut up, Ronoc, you’re not welcome here,” Conor said as he flicked his hand. The metal door appeared for all of an instant, gaping open as the shadowy twin was suddenly blown off his feet and into the shadows before the door clanged shut and disappeared. He turned back to Luna. “Sorry about that. I guess you could say he’s my nightmare. All my darker attributes and lusts combined into a sort of persona in my head. He pops out from time to time and I have to put him back in his place again.” He sighed. “It’d be nice if he didn’t end up acting like such a jerk all the time.”
“You have your own nightmare?”
“Yup. He’s been bumping around in my head for the last ohhh, probably about six or seven years or so.” He shrugged. “I learned to deal.”
“I see.” Luna looked off into the horizon as a dim light began to shine through the curtain. “It seems our time is nearly finished,” she noted.
“Hey, Luna, I appreciate the call, and everyone’s concern, really. But, before you go, could you just promise to do me a favor?”
“Yes?” luna asked.
“Let the others know I’m going to be alright, okay? Like I said, I just need some time to get it through my system. If someone wants to talk to me, they can, and I’ll listen, and I’ll talk. I just need a little space every once in a while to do some things to help myself.”
“Very well.” Luna nodded. “I will leave now.”
“Oh, and Luna?”
“Yes?” the Lunar Princess asked as she pulled open his dream door.
“If you need someone to talk to, I’m always here,” Conor said as he flickered back to his normal self again.
Vital Spark walked calmly through the hallway as the cool castle drafts brushed against his fur. It still felt a little strange to be just fur and hide, but by this point, he’d gotten pretty much used to it. His ears twitched and swiveled as he heard various whispers and snippets of conversation as he passed through the halls past various doors and Pony guards. He casually reviewed the letter that had popped up in his room one more time.
‘Vital,
Come to my office. I have a few things to discuss with you when you have the free time. Keep in mind, this will take some time, so it’s for the best you show up after your workout.
~Hammer’
Vital sighed as he plodded up to Shawn’s office. He raised a hoof to knock only for a voice to stop him.
“Don’t have to knock.”
Vital sighed and pushed. The door gave way fairly easily with a light creak. “You called?” he asked as he trotted into the room, closing the door behind himself.
Hammer Strike looked up from his desk, his coat placed on his chair. “Ah, Vital,” he motioned for him to take a seat. “So yeah, this is going to be a nice conversation.”
“By nice, do you mean long, or do you mean unpleasant?”
“Depending on how things go, both,” he started.
“Great,” Vital said unenthusiastically as he plopped down on a chair.
“So, I have a few things I want to go over before you leave this room, the primary thing being some advice.”
“Survival, thaumaturgy, magic, or a little of everything?”
“Advice on the mind is a primary thing, but yeah, a mix on most things. The first thing I want to talk about is how you act in Pony form and Human form.”
Vital Spark raised a brow.
“Act the same. I’d prefer you not argue with yourself because you created another mindset for a different form. At least, try not to that is. Matthew and Peter had that problem for a while due to an incident wiping their memories and having to grow up once again.”
“Okay, fair enough. So what else?”
“Two, I’m going to be teaching you some magic myself later this week.”
“I thought you said I was supposed to avoid using it.”
“You use it every time you cast a spell as a Unicorn. There is no avoiding it at this point in time,” Hammer told him, a slight frown on his face.
“So now I need to learn to control it instead so I don’t accidentally hurt somepony in the process, then.”
“The Thaumic field is interesting in a way. Think of it as a separate part of you relying mostly on your instincts or your logic for tasks in helping. When you perform magical feats, it adds its own power to the spell, enhancing it.”
“And like any muscle, it only gets stronger the more I use it.”
Hammer Strike nodded. “Another topic that I need to talk about is if we get the chance to go home. We won’t be staying, we being Grif, Pensword, and myself.”
“You mentioned being stuck here and it had something to do with the field, right?”
“My internal organs are being held together by the Thaumic Field around me. Fatal injuries that I shouldn’t have lived through were healed by the field. Grif suffered some injuries that he might be able to live through with medical help as soon as his magic dies off and even then he’ll have to deal with long term weakness. Pensword hasn’t had a fatal injury, but he is stuck in Pony form, his human form being dead.”
“Ouch.” Vital winced.
“But you’re still full. You haven’t been harmed enough to have this happen, and you still have a living human form. You have a chance that we don’t anymore.”
“So basically, you’re trapped here.”
“This is our life now. Equis will be where our history ends.”
“But you can still make memories on Earth too, right?”
“Memories of us will fade from Earth faster, friends and family will keep our names in memory until their time comes. The rest of the world will continue as it does.”
“That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t go home and see them!” Vital said stubbornly.
“I never said we weren’t going back for a visit. I said we can’t stay.”
“Yeesh! I wish you’d specify more, Shawn. You nearly gave me apoplexy.”
“That’ll take time. I usually don’t have to explain many things, and if someone has tried to get more information, I’ve usually lied.”
“How come?”
“Sometimes it’s for the best to keep information from others, while other times it’s because I don’t want to say it.”
“It’s not like they can use that information, can they? We’d just be telling them a little about our homes and our culture. It’s not like we have government secrets or something, right?”
“Some of the information I know can be used against us. As for our home and culture, that’s one I honestly can’t remember much anyways. It’s been forty years since I’ve seen home.”
“For some reason, I keep forgetting that fact.” Vital sighed. “You haven’t forgotten the important stuff though, right?”
“For the most part, though my mind is primarily filled with other things. For example, who my allies are, things I need to work on, and who my enemies are.”
“And with worrying about the rest of us, I take it?” Vital probed.
“Correct.”
“Sometimes I think you worry too much, and sometimes I wonder if it’s even enough. This world is really crazy.”
“When I didn’t worry enough, I fell victim to a trap. Paranoia is what keeps us safe, even if I tend to go overboard sometimes...”
“You’re not letting yourself get too paranoid though, right?”
“If only. As said, when I’m not paranoid enough I’ve fallen into traps. I’d prefer to be over-paranoid than unprepared.”
“Be careful not to let it consume you, Shawn. I’m serious. It’s not healthy. Not even for someone with as strong a psyche as you. And yes, I know I’m calling the kettle black here when I have my own things I’m working through right now, but still, the point stands.”
“You’re too late on that, Conor. Years late.”
“To quote an old favorite, ‘it’s not too late. It’s never too late.’”
“You’re definitely late when it’s already happened.” Hammer finished, his expression gone flat.
“I mean it’s not too late to change, Shawn. You’ll have to learn to let things go eventually. I think that may be one reason why I’m here, honestly.”
“Can’t let go of certain things though.”
“I can respect that. Everyone has to take their own time.” Vital sighed. “So you said you needed to teach me some tricks?”
Hammer gave a dark grin.
“And here we have our Crystal Empire exhibit. Shortly after the Third Gryphon War, the Crystal Empire suddenly disappeared from Equis. No one knew where the Crystal Ponies had disappeared to. Once the Ponies from Equestria cleared out, the Emperor sent in scouting teams to find out what had happened and admittedly, scavenge anything they could find. Crystal technology was incredibly advanced, as were their magics, most likely due to the fact that they had a Unicorn Queen.” He looked warily at Prince Cosy as the young Pony motioned for him to continue.
“All of these relics around us were recovered from the ruins of the city and from the crystal caverns themselves lying beneath where it had been, as well as on the outskirts and mountains that surrounded the great city. We found many fragments of a peculiar black crystal and some evidence of explosive minerals, but nothing concrete enough to pull together what happened. However, as you can see, there were quite a few things the Ponies left behind. The rest of the artifacts were taken by the Emperor and reside within his palace. None save the young Emperor Daedalus knows what may have become of those treasures. As for the rest, well, I suppose the historians in our little gathering can ask the young prince here what happened.” .
Pensword looked to Cosy, the question clear in his eyes. Cosy nodded, though it seems not many Gryphons were willing to come up to ask, whether out of embarrassment, a sense of superiority, or possibly a fear of what magics may have been used, they decided it was best to leave things be. The room was bedecked with all manner of artifacts from wagon wheels, to crystal gems, to a replica of the Empire put in diarama form. Some old damaged Crystal Pony armor was on display alongside a broken spear and dented shield. A few ragged books were on display in glass cases on pedestals. Then, towards the back of the room was a strange sort of crystal rock. On closer inspection, bits of colored crystal jutted out from various slots and holes and the dim sheen of well-worked metal shone dully in the torchlight from all the years it had been on display.
“... I’ve never seen that before,” Cosy murmured as he walked up to the object in question. He barely made it to three quarters of its height.
Pensword looked at the items as well. “Nor I.” He whispered. “What is this?”
“Dunno.” The other Gryphons were all busy looking over other exhibits, even as Kel’leam continued his watchful guard over the two ponies. One of the crystals in the lower portion of the sphere seemed to be glowing faintly, and on an impulse, Cosy reached out and depressed it. Quicker than anything, the crystal dissipated into dust, flying onto his hoof and circling it before solidifying into a purple crystal bangle. A low hum emanated from the machine as the rest of the crystals glowed a little brighter.
Pensword stood stock still as he witnessed the event. He didn’t know what to say; he didn’t even get a chance to stop the young prince. Nervously, he scanned the crowd, wondering how long it would be till the other Gryphons could hear the hum, or see the glow.
“Excuse me, Prince Bellacosa, but should you be touching that if you aren’t aware what it does?” Kel’leam asked him quietly.
Cosy looked back sheepishly. “Heh … probably not?”
Pensword gave a long suffering sigh. Cosy heard him mutter something in Dragonic, “Why must everyPony I know touch things without thinking?”
“... Are you mad at me, Uncle?” Cosy asked.
Pensword paused as he looked at his nephew. “No,” Pensword whispered softly in Equestrian.
“... We should probably go, shouldn’t we?”
“Yes, we should leave.” Pensword wrapped a wing around Cosy and looked around the room for Kel’leam. “I think that we should return to the monastery.” He took a breath, wondering when they would meet with Daedelus. As the trio walked out the doors to the Museum, an excited exclamation came from the gallery as various Gryphon guards dashed inside.
“How long till the guards come talking to us?” Pensword asked the group as they walked into the courtyard.
“They won’t if we move fast enough,” Kel’leam said as they made their way through the square towards the gates.
“You think you can move a little faster?” Pensword asked Cosy. “Well, this is going to be fun I think.”
Cosy looked less certain of that. “L-let’s just get back to the Monastery. We don’t wanna raise suspicion by rushing too fast, right?” Pensword only nodded his head as he looked around the courtyard.
“Well, this has been fun.” Kel’leam sighed as he followed. Soon after they passed through the gates and made it to the monastery untouched. He let loose a silent prayer of thanks as they entered the monastery proper.
Grif let out a groan as his muscles shouted at him in pain, angrily speaking out against their abuse. Several shallow cuts dotted his fur and around him the “ground” was littered with steel pellets. The quetzalcoatl was trying to teach him to manipulate air currents around his body to add another layer of defense. The exercise required him to use his swords as an anchor, but Grif was having trouble with his concentration while acting to defend himself.
“No, no, definitely not,” The Quetzalcoatl quipped, shaking his head. “You’re putting too much thought into it, Grif. Let it happen naturally.”
“Thought into what? They’re swords!” Grif sighed. “I still don’t even know what they're made from, okay? No magic metal can just act on it’s own.”
“And what can, Avatar?” Quetzalcoatl asked as he lay on a cloud looking down on his pupil.
“Some types of magic trees, enchanted objects but to a much limited degree…. dragons--” Grif looked at him.
“Yes? Go on,” he said, motioning with a wing.
“Deep magic…. the kind that only comes from blood,” Grif said. “Not the kind of thing I ever want connected to me.”
“And why is that?”
“Because a weapon formed because someone was tricked into believing they died for glory, or worse. Someone killed in terror isn’t something I believe in.”
The Lord of the East Wind looked ponderingly at Grif. “... What do you know of your predecessor, Grif?”
Grif shrugged. “Grask slew dragons. He also figured out how to manipulate magic, through you, as I am just now learning. He used these blades during his life to accomplish his exploits, and before he died, he trained a small group in his ways, though they were never able to fully exploit it… I believe his family died out before its fifth generation due to war and other tragedies,” he said, reciting from memory.
“Would it surprise you to know Grask never came to me, young warrior?”
“But then how did he have the East Wind behind him?”
“He didn’t.” The Quetzalcoatl shrugged.
“Okay, so how does it tie into these?” Grif asked holding up the swords.
“I can’t tell you everything. It’s something you’ll have to learn for yourself. I can only tell you the blades are sentient. Work with them. Get to know them. They chose you and they will respond to you if you are willing to trust them. As for Grask himself, it will suffice me to say he was not raised by Gryphonkind, but rather another.”
“At least tell me this,” Grif said. “Was the blood of an innocent spilled for these weapons?” Grif asked.
The Quetzalcoatl was mute for a time as he pondered the question. “... No,” he said. “It was not spilled.”
“Then I can live with it,” Grif said. He took a blade in each hand and breathed deeply, letting his mind clear as he felt the familiar flow of magic like water into the swords. “Again,” he said.
The wind picked up around him, grabbing the pellets into it and began to throw them at Grif with varying velocities. While Grif deflected one from his face, another shot at his arm before being pushed away by a heavy draft. He smiled as he continued the exercise.
“Good, good,” the Quetzalcoatl said as he applauded with his wings before increasing the hail of stone and metal. “Now let’s see what you can really do.”
Pensword poked his head up from the pillow. He blinked owlishly as he mentally checked his mind. “Who is knocking at the door at three A.M.?” He groaned as he crawled out of the bed and moved to the door. “Who is there?” he ordered, half slurred. He had gotten use to being protected by the religious laws, so he had relaxed his guard a little.
“Excuse me, commander,” a piping voice said. “The emperor's emissary has come to request some time for organizing an audience.”
Pensword was instantly alert. “Right, I will be there…” he paused and sighed before he grabbed his helmet and opened the door. “Okay, lead the way.” He turned back to the room to gaze on Cosy’s sleeping form. “Do they need the Prince?”
“He should be present, yes.” The monk nodded his head.
Pensword nodded and turned around. Placing a hoof to Cosy’s side, he began to shake him awake. “Come on, we have a meeting.” He muttered under his breath. “Why at three A.M., I do not know.” Cosy yawned and murmured in his sleep, but eventually opened his eyes blearily as he carefully rose from the covers. He rubbed his eyes to wakefulness and blinked owlishly at the messenger. A few minutes later, they were standing in the entrance hall as they looked at three veiled and shadowed Gryphons. Beneath their cloaks, the emperor’s seal was emblazoned on their breastplates.
“These are the Heaven Claw,” the monk said. “They are the emperor's most trusted confidants and agents. Given the enemies of both you and Grif, not to mention the emperor himself, and the dangerous situation of the prince, Emperor Daedalus thought that these arrangements for your meeting should best be done in secrecy.”
“So when does he want to meet with me?” Cosy asked as he looked to the Gryphon at the front of the group.
“My emperor can grant you access to the palace within three days’ time,” the Gryphon started before looking around. “Where is the Avatar?”
“The Avatar received a calling to the Southern Summits with his new bride to receive the south wind’s blessing,” one of the monks spoke up suddenly. “He will be detained for the next few days.”
“But he will be present when you two meet with the emperor?” the Gryphon asked.
“Of course. He wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Cosy said as he looked to the guard. “What can we expect when we arrive?”
“Crowded waiting rooms, snobby nobles, and even royals demanding petty things.” The Gryphon sighed. “Unfortunately, the court operates on a first come first serve basis based on the importance of the audience. It may be some time before you may see the emperor once you are inside.”
“I take it diplomats aren’t exactly high on the list,” Cosy said.
“Considering our diplomacy has led us to constant war on two fronts and eternal odds with Equestria,” the Gryphon sighed almost tiredly as he mentioned wars, “perhaps that is a blessing.”
“You might be right.” Cosy sighed. “What about the Avatar of Winds though?”
“If the Avatar shows up, the emperor may be able to move you up by requiring his guidance,” the Gryphon hummed, scratching his chin.
“Then we’ll go with it that way. The Winds Father is dead, so Grif’s the next best thing, right?”
“The Winds Father is dead?” The Gryphon looked to the monks, who nodded. “Well that’s certainly a shocking development. When you arrive at the palace, ask for me by name,” the Gryphon said.
“What is your name?” Pensword asked.
“I am Jorund. Jorund Bloodfeather,” he stated as he pulled back his hood to reveal a very young Gryphon, around Grif’s age if Pensword could judge anything. The commander trembled violently at the name as the face of his family’s killer rose to haunt him yet again. The red feathers, the gold accents, those eyes. So similar, and yet so different.
“But--” Pensword choked out, his body and face unable to hide the shock. “YOU. ARE. DEAD!”
The Gryphon recoiled in confusion and fear, the cloaked figures beside him obviously reaching for concealed weapons. The monks put their talons out, trying to remind both sides that blood could not be split within their gates.
Pensword did not reach for his weapon, nor any form of attack. He was trembling. “You hung till you were dead. I saw you eat my family. I tore the wings from your body personally and buried you in a Pony grave. HOW CAN YOU STAND BEFORE ME? ” Pensword roared.
“I have only just met you,” the Gryphon retorted. “And the Bloodfeathers haven’t fed on Pony flesh since before the reformation,” he said. “I swear it on my own wings.”
“I wiped out the Bloodfeather Clan in the par,” Pensword began then paused. “... The news never made it back.” He blinked as he glowered. “Do you know just what that name means? What it represents?” He growled, venom dripping from his words. “That name led the complete destruction of a town. Your Namesake gave birth to the Demon!”
“My great grandfather reformed the clan under his bloodline when no one from our family returned from the Third Gryphon War.” The Gryphon stood his ground “The name is an old family name, nothing more. We had only mad ramblings from those who fled the village nearby as to what happened at Triumph. No Gryphon knows what happened to those inside.”
“Because I did not allow any to escape!” Pensword snapped in anger. He sputtered as his mind caught once more on that idea. “None escaped. None escaped.” He stared at the Grypon, the image, the image of that blasted Commandant, who … who dared to--. With a great show of effort, he managed to force an expression of calm. “You have no idea what I am saying, do you?” he finally asked.
“Whatever was done to wrong you, I had no part in it,” Jorund said. “I swear I would never have taken part in any such thing.”
“You may not, but the-- you are the specter of my demon,” Pensword growled. “You do not know what happened, what sparked the war? Let me tell you.” His countenance had darkened, his tone turned grim. “Jorund Bloodfeather was the Commandant of Fort Triumph. In the years leading up to the official invasion, he led raiding parties into Equestria to silence towns or posts that could lead to early alerts. I was in cadet training, staying ready to be deployed into the employ of a Lord, when I dreamt and lived the deaths of my entire village. Your namesake personally killed my father, mother, brother, sister, and the mayor of my town, Mountainside Falls. Then he ate their flesh. I descended upon those ruins like an avenging spirit and wiped out every single Gryphon stationed there. I blazed a trail of damnation upon your armies till I took your military gem, Fort Triumph. Jorund Bloodfeather, by his actions, created your great Demon.”
In a flurry of motion, Pensword was rushed into a pair of strong talons in a powerful embrace as fresh tears matted his fur. The large Gryphon was hugging him…. and weeping openly, something Grif had noted was a major taboo in Gryphon culture. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” The Gryphon sobbed into his shoulders, much to the shock of many present.
Pensword was frozen, locked up, tensed, and downright unable to comprehend what was happening. He was being hugged and wept upon by his enemy, but the one that… he chocked a little as his brain locked up and gears ground to a halt trying to comprehend this inexplicable course of action. This was unheard of. As his brain struggled to reboot, his body loosened against his will, taking the embrace.
“For what it’s worth, your actions saved my family,” the Gryphon spoke even as he cried and embraced him. “My great grandfather was clanless and starving before it was discovered he was the last of the Bloodfeathers. Because Jorund and his daughter never returned, my great grandfather survived, thrived, and remade the clan into something I hope was better,” Jorund said. “In a very real sense, your actions saved my life.”
Pensword blinked as he words washed over him, surged back, pooled over his head, and sank into his brain. What was happening? He opened his muzzle, closed it, opened it, closed it, and tried to speak, but no words came. He stiffened as he saw his Jorund appear as a specter in the corner, looking like he was going to have a conniption. clearly he had been hoping for a revenge killing. “Do the Bloodfeathers promise never to wage war against the Pen family?” Pensword asked haltingly. He slowly began returning the hug as something started slipping back into place. “Maybe we should try keeping this particular part of your family history a secret? This could be bad for you, after all,” he stated bluntly.
“If you ever ask it of us, my clan shall march at your order,” the Gryphon returned.
Pensword gulped at that thought. He felt something else break, and for the first time in a long time his stiff upper lip trembled and he began to sniff as he fully embraced the hug. He broke down as old wounds reopened and he realized at one time he would have rejoiced at this, used it to his advantage. But now … now it just didn’t feel right.
“I’m sorry,” Jorund said, wiping his eyes as he backed off. “The death of my father still weighs heavily upon me.” A cluster of monks had gathered in the hall, drawn by the echoing tirade Pensword had unleashed. Their beaks dropped at the sight of a proud clan leader who had just collapsed in tears and appeared to be extending a hand of brotherhood to The Demon of the Third Gryphon War.
Pensword blinked as his feathers ruffled and he felt something like static electricity around his fur. “Tell me who they were and I shall bring ruin upon them.” He knew just what he was referring to. “This time… I will be more focused in my rage and anger.”
“Keep it for when you need it,” Jorund spoke softly. “There is much trouble in the empire. A foul wind is blowing. Last time it took out our beloved emperor and his wife. Now I fear they mean to destroy Daedalus as well. I was hoping to discuss this with the Avatar, but if he is away, it cannot be helped.”
Pensword slowly looked at the Grypon with a confused tilt of his head. “So the Gryphons no longer fear me? Why the mural?”
“You are still only one Pony, if you will forgive my bluntness,” Jorund replied. “And to be honest, you have no public reason to support the emperor. You and Grif are simply wild cards. Others will try to sway you.”
“I made my choice; Daedalus stays. I like him based on what I have heard at least. I think he has what is needed for the future. Still, I shall send word the moment that Grif returns from his, well, whatever it is that he is doing.”
“Do not make that public yet,” Jorund warned as he shook his red head. “Let them try to sway you so that they may reveal themselves to you. Perhaps more can be saved if we know the face of our enemies.”
“Very well,” Pensword responded with a sly smirk. “I look forward to listening to what they have to say. And what they might try to get an enemy to recognize that they are true Gryphons.”
“Politics is really complex, isn’t it?” Cosy asked, his expression one of complete confusion as he looked around the room.
The adults stared down at him for a moment before the room exploded in laughter. “Sometimes the youngest of us see the true wisdom,” one of the monks said.
Cosy cocked his head, confused at the sudden outburst. “What’d I say?”
Hammer Strike walked alongside Rarity as they made their way out of the Everfree Forest.
“I’m really so glad you agreed to come with me, Hammer Strike. The spa simply isn’t any fun without a friend, and all the other girls weren’t available.”
“No problem. I didn’t have anything to do,” Hammer replied with a grin as he thought back on the door to his forge. He couldn’t help but wonder why The Doctor decided to park his TARDIS there.
“Have you ever been to a spa before?” she asked.
“Never in my lives.”
“Excellent! That means we get to show you a new experience and still have fun. I can get a facial and you can get a nice deep tissue massage. I hear Bulk Biceps is very good,” she said as she continued to talk about the various treatments and other aspects involved with Ponyville’s famous spa.
“I’m going to be able to keep my coat on, right?”
“Of course not, darling. It’s a massage after all. You get your own special clothing to wear.”
“I’m suddenly having strong second thoughts,” he said softly, the tone of his voice shifting for a split second.
“Oh, come on now, it’s not so bad,” Rarity said as she took one of his forelegs in hers as she walked along, continuing to pull Hammer Strike behind. … He let her.
As they approached, what can only be described as a valentine cutout crossed with macrame and a bad castle impression stood before them with tall, pointed rooftops, accented by Fleur De Lis and a large metal windvane crown. The roof itself was a light purple with a flowing wooden design over the door frame to appear like curtains. Hanging above the heart engraved door was a sign showing an earth Pony mare with a flowing mane and tail, dark green flowers, a horseshoe, and a light green background.
Hammer Strike couldn’t help but eye the building. “Is that it?”
“Yes, but I assure you, it’s much more chic on the inside. This is just designed to catch the eye and give it a more pleasant country kind of appeal while still striking with a formal elegance. And their facials are simply to die for,” she gushed.
“I’ll… take your word on it.”
“Well, come on, darling. Your pampering awaits.” She smiled as her horn lit up and the door opened magically to admit them.
“Well hello, darlings, and how is our favorite customer today?” A cerulean Earth Pony with a bright pink mane and a lotus petal cutiemark greeted them cheerfully with her Geremane accent as she walked up, her cream headband holding her mane back to maintain focus and precision in her work.
“We’re here for the whole package, Lotus,” Rarity said, grinning.
“WHAT?” Lotus exclaimed. “But isn’t that going to put you and your shop behind, Rarity?”
“Oh, don’t worry about that, Lotus,” Rarity giggled before dashing up next to her ear and whispering. “Hammer Strike is paying.” Then she zipped back to her Pony companion.
Lotus looked speculatively at the two, then she smiled. “One complete Celestial Package Deluxe coming right up. And are we making this a couples session?” she asked, raising her eyebrows in a knowing manner.
“That sounds fine,” Hammer Strike responded.
“Then come with me,” Lotus said as she clopped along the floor of the strangely bigger-on-the-inside establishment.
“One day I will learn the trick of having more space than visually possible on the outside…” Hammer Strike muttered to himself.
“Here we are. You can go change in there. And once you are ready, we will start the treatment.” Lotus motioned to the two curtained doorways, one marked “Mares,” the other marked “Stallions.”
“Might as well note it now, this isn’t going to be a wonderful sight,” Hammer Strike commented.
“Oh, please, Hammer Strike, you’re one of the most desired bachelors in all of Equestria. I doubt anything about you could be considered unpleasant,” Rarity said.
“Give it a minute or two and you’ll change your mind.”
With that said, the two entered their respective places to get out of their garb. Rarity, having chosen not to wear a dress that day, merely had to remove her earrings and was out rather quickly.
Hammer Strike couldn’t help but remove his coat slower than he normally would, even folding it before he put it off to the side in one of the many cubby holes made available. He did the same thing with his vest. Upon unbuttoning his shirt, he sighed to himself one last time before removing it and hanging it up on one of the hangers provided.
“Hammer Strike, darling, is everything alright in there?” Rarity’s sweet voice called from the other side of the curtain.
“Just ... bracing for the inevitable,” Hammer Strike responded as he parted the curtain, revealing himself to the group.
“Oh my,” Rarity said as Hammer Strike made his way out, his body bare to the scrutiny of the spa and its staff.
“Why no wonder you wanted the Celestial treatment, dearie,” Lotus said as she eyed the scars. “We have all the right techniques for physical recuperation. We can have those scars gone in a jiffy.”
“...I’d prefer you not. I am fine with making them not so hard to look at, but, not with removing them.”
“... Well, I suppose if that’s what you want. We’ll talk oils and potions when it’s time for your massage. For now, let the treatment begin.”
Rarity looked ponderously at Hammer Strike. “I take it there’s something you haven’t told me.”
“Sorry to say, but I’ve actually told you the primary cause for this,” Hammer replied as he looked at her and paused, thinking to himself for a split moment. “Perhaps afterwards, I’ll tell you more. Whatever you want to know that is.”
“If these come from what I think they do, you don’t have to say another word.” Rarity placed a gentle hoof on Hammer Strike’s shoulder.
“We’ll see how things go.” He gave a weak grin as the two walked together to their first initial spa treatment: getting their hooves filed.
“I said let me out,” Black Rook growled as he struggled in an attempt to get the current restraints on his body loose enough to escape. “I’m fine.”
“You’ll be staying right where you are, Black Rook,” Little Willow said firmly as she looked down at her chart. “You still have a concussion and I am not about to let you go out where you can hurt yourself before you’re properly recovered.”
“Willow, you know I don’t need to be here,” Rook growled. “I need to get back to training.”
“And what do you think my brother would do if he heard I’d let you out before you were ready? I’ve already had to rearrange my infirmary once after the siege. I’d rather not have to a second time.”
“You love hiding behind Grif in these situations, don’t you?” he said sullenly.
“It’s not hiding; It’s a fact. Now get over yourself and drink this. I need to make a supply run to Ponyville. When I get back, I expect you to be more relaxed. Tension only makes the body heal slower, you know.” She shoved a foul smelling concoction into Rook’s face as he grimaced. “An old Zebra recipe, courtesy of Zecora,” she said by way of explanation. “Now drink.”
Begrudgingly, Rook took the concoction and slowly drank until it was empty.
“Good. That should speed things up,” she said as she put the cup on an empty tray. “Now be good, Rook, or so help me, I’ll give you Tartarus when I get back.”
Rook rolled his eyes as he waited for her to leave. He waited an extra ten minutes until he was certain she wasn’t coming back before he spit out the shard of clay from the bowl holding the concoction. He looked it over carefully, noting the sharper edge before taking the other side into his mouth and slowly moving the edge along his restraints.
“Alright, boys, let’s get to that run,” Conor said as he finished his five pull ups and stretches. He still wore his normal gym clothes for now, but he was determined to catch up with the rest of the herd as he readied himself to pass through the Everfree. “Everyone all accounted for?”
“Rook’s supposed to still be out,” one of the others noted, “so it’s just us and you today.”
“Right then. Let’s form rank and get started.” Conor nodded, his face already flushed from the blood pumping in the warm-up.
“Alright, colts, form up,” a familiar voice spoke as Rook trotted up to them. “It’s time to go for a run.”
“Sir, aren’t you still supposed to be in bed?” one of the cadets asked.
“I was released early,” Rook said. “Now let’s get warmed up.”
Conor sighed. “Are you really going to put me through this, Rook?”
“Same as I’ve been putting you through since we started. You should be able to do the entire run without armor by the time Grif gets back,” Rook said, clearly not seeing the look on Conor’s face.
“You’re right, I will. And you’ll be able to see me do it once you’re done recovering.”
“I told you I’m clear,” Rook said.
“And I’m calling your bluff,” Conor said, pulling out two letters. The first was clearly in Grif’s writing. The other was written with the official infirmary seal. “Grif put me in charge till you’re better, and Willow dropped this off before she left. So please, Black Rook, just go back to the infirmary.”
“Those are forgeries,” Black Rook said unconvincingly.
“Are you calling me a liar?” Conor asked coolly as his eyes hardened.
“You’ve obviously been deceived,” Rook said. “Now let’s get going. Time’s wasting.”
Conor looked sternly at Rook and pointed back to the castle. “Infirmary. Now.”
“You aren’t my mother,” Rook growled.
“Okay, first of all, that’s pathetic, and you know it, Rook. You’re better than that. Secondly …” A grim, practically sinister smile crept over Conor’s face. “You know, Rook, I’m still smarting after that little stunt you pulled with me back when I was first starting out.”
“I did what had to be done.”
“And now so am I. Bruiser!” Conor called. The same grey Earth Pony from before made his way towards the pair.
“Yes?” Bruiser asked.
“Please escort Black Rook back to the infirmary. Use any means you deem necessary as long as you don’t hurt him. I’d rather not be on Willow’s bad side.”
“Sir.” Bruiser saluted as he turned to his commander, and in a manner very similar to what he did with the human, threw Black Rook up in the air so he landed on his back and started plodding away.
“This isn’t over!” Rook called as he was hauled away.
“Payback’s a real pain, isn’t it, Rook?” Conor said, smiling as he waved. “Make sure to watch him until Willow gets back, got it, Bruiser?”
Bruiser turned once and nodded before returning to his course for the infirmary. Conor turned back to the Rohirrim.
“Alright, mares and gentlecolts, let’s get into gear. Form ranks and fall out!”
“Good morning, everyone.” Clover looked at the assembled unicorns before her. The ones who came off guard duty had been instructed to remove their armor, which was now piled neatly in the back. Before every one of them was a small metal sphere. Trixie and Vital found themselves stationed in the center front line. “Today you begin training in magic. Now, I witnessed your performance during the siege and I just have to say--” she looked across at all of them. “--it was pathetic.”
Trixie bristled before bowing her head as she fought old habits. Meanwhile a few of the Unicorns looked like they were about to say something when Silver Spear stepped forward. “You are correct.” He spoke loudly. “I’m sure I speak for all the troops when I say that we look forward to the lessons so we can become better. I needn’t remind the others just who you are and who you studied under.” Several of the Unicorn guards who had begun to raise objections suddenly looked very sheepish as they rubbed their forelegs. Clover continued, unfazed.
“Years ago, even Gamma Class Unicorns could perform shield spells and hurl boulders, yet I saw groups of you out there struggling to hold barriers while group casting, and there isn’t a single Gamma among you,” she said. “Today, we’re going to be testing your limits, seeing how hard I can push you safely. In front of each of you is Sir Apple Hooton's arcane gravity sphere. Is anyone here familiar with what this sphere does?” she asked.
Trixie raised a hoof slowly, looking around her nervously. In the past, she would have declared it without hesitation, but now, now she knew she needed to try to reign in.
“Yes?” clover asked her.
“It gets heavier the longer you hold it in your magic,” Trixie answered.
“Very good, Trixie.” Clover nodded. “This sphere feeds off the magic used in the levitation spell to become denser and heavier. The purpose of this exercise is to gauge how long you can hold it so I can know the limits of your magical field. You are not expected to hold this sphere until you pass out, but you will hold it until you can no longer stand.”
“Um … is there an average time we should aim for?” Vital asked nervously.
“If you cannot make ten seconds, you should not be in the military. Most average Gamma Unicorns can do 45 seconds. Betas last about a minute. Alphas can do between ten minutes and an hour,” she explained. “Though you should simply go for as long as you can.”
Trixie looked around. “When can we start?” She asked with a small smirk.
Silver Spear looked at the ball, taking up a defensive stance as though he were about to face a foe on the sparing floor. Vital Spark braced himself for the worst, remembering the training he’d faced thus far and the way he’d been able to send the changelings flying in the battle. He was nervous, but he hoped he’d be able to do well. The other Unicorns likewise took up their positions as they prepared for the test.
“Begin.” Clover nodded, picking up three such spheres in front of her as she patiently held them in her magic.
Hesitantly, Vital lit up his horn as the sphere before him slowly began to rise into the air. It was surprisingly light at first and he smiled. Maybe it wouldn’t be so hard after all. Then came the strain as his horn suddenly began to feel weighed down. His neck strained and trembled as beads of sweat began to stand out on his forehead while he struggled to hold the ball in his blue aura.
Silver Spear picked up the ball. Much to his surprise, it felt too light. He was unsure what was happening. He felt the weight increase, but it wasn’t unbearable. All the same, he remained tense, ready for any surprise tricks this “new opponent” might have for him.
Trixie picked up the ball and waited, her magic supporting the weight with little trouble, even as it continued to grow.
Vital trembled where he stood as the ball gradually grew in size and slowly dropped toward the floor. His knees began to shake against his will as he grit his teeth, determined to keep the ball raised as long as possible. He would learn magic, and he would be the best he could be. He had to be. He couldn’t let what happened to Black Rook happen again. Groaning, his horn light wavered briefly before flashing bright again as the ball rose back up to its original height.
Silver Spear grunted. He didn’t know how many seconds had passed, but he was too focused on not failing the ten seconds to keep track.
Trixie herself was still unfazed as she looked back to see a few Unicorns sweating heavily. The last time she had performed this test, she had made fifteen minutes. She enjoyed a brief warm feeling as she recalled her mother's look of pride that day.
At last, Vital could hold it no more, and much like when he was moving heavy furniture back on Earth as his human self, he could feel the ball slipping from his magical “fingers” as the weight became too much. He bent low, squatting as he struggled to keep the ball afloat, just barely avoiding the cobbled stones as the light of his horn faded before finally going out. He collapsed on the ground, exhausted.
Silver Spear grunted and the ball clattered to the table. He panted and shook from the exercise. It felt like he had used his magic for the first time in his life.
Trixie smiled consolingly at Vital spark as she continued the first minute, passing easily as the sphere continued to float. Clover the Clever, meanwhile, was idly juggling her three spheres as she watched.
Several more groans were heard in succession as, little by little, the other Unicorns buckled. Trixie and Clover were left alone holding their spheres.Two minutes, five minutes, ten minutes rolled by without either showing a sign of strain yet. Finally, at fifteen minutes, sweat began to bead on Trixie’s brow as the weight mounted past her previous threshold. By twenty minutes her knees shook beneath her as she struggled, and at the twenty five minute mark the sphere hit the ground with a hollow thud as she sunk to her for knees.
Clover didn’t release her spheres as she strolled through them. “Not bad,” she said as she looked around the gathering. “There is a lot of potential within this group. Now that I have a gauge for each of your potentials, I am going to split you up into groups tonight based on your current magical limit. From there, I will begin constructing an arcane-based workout and lesson plan accordingly.” She turned to Trixie. “Trixie, when I am not teaching you and you are not studying, you will be my aid and help the others should I be occupied.”
Trixie gasped in shock. “You want Trixie to help the almighty Clover?” She blushed and bowed her head. “Trixie would be honored.”
“I am many things, Trixie,” Clover laughed heartily as she looked at the blue Unicorn, “but I am no goddess. We all have limits; some of us have just learned ways to extend them.”
Trixie bowed her head. “What do you wish for Trixie to do?”
“I take it you’ve had some more in-depth magical schooling than the others?” Clover asked.
“Trixie has had a little extra training,” she answered warily.
“Good. Get started by explaining to Silver Spear and Vital Spark about the magical conservation theory. I will start dividing the others into their groups.”
Rarity sighed in pleasure as she propped her hooves up on the wooden platform while she luxuriated in the steam. This was one of the few times she allowed her hair to lose its form and style as she breathed the jasmine scent Lotus had added to the water with the assistance of a few drops of oil.
“Oh, Hammer Strike, isn’t this just perfect?”
“I don’t get it.”
“The steam, darling. It helps open the pores to cleanse impurities and relaxes the muscles with the heat. Why, if Granny Smith were to come here, she’d look twenty years younger. … You don’t need to tell her I said that.”
“Heat? It feels like it’s room temperature in here…”
“Room temperature? Are you sure? It’s nearly 180 degrees in here,” she said as the sweat ran down her flanks.
“Ah, that explains it,” Hammer Strike hummed in thought. “Considering from what Celestia and myself tested, I could pretty much sit in molten metal like it was a hot tub.”
“Oh dear. If we can’t get you nice and relaxed, how are you going to be ready for your massage?”
“I’m going to wish them the best of luck,” he responded with a short chuckle.
“Well …” Rarity said as she sidled closer, her towel still wrapped around her. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
“Just you being here helps.” He gave a grin.
“Oh, Hammer Strike.” Rarity blushed. “You should smile more often. It ... really brings out the light in your eyes.” She stared into the pit of coals and grew even redder.
“But the more I smile, the less special it is.”
“Hammer Strike, a smile is always special, no matter who does it or how many times. And … being with you … it’s always special.” Rarity eeked and jumped in the air as Aloe ladled a few more servings of water onto the hot rocks. Her face looked as red as a cherry when she landed on Hammer Strike. Aloe giggled as she walked off to find her sister.
Hammer Strike wrapped a hoof around her, that small grin still on his face as he shifted his muzzle by her ear. “Until the day I’m gone, you have little to worry about. For I will be there by your side.”
Rarity was speechless, her breathing light as her heart fluttered in her chest. What could she say? How should she act? This was a true Lord of Equestria. Well, she had just been dubbed a noble, but still, she was new, he was experienced and handsome, and perfect and just … just … before she knew it, she’d locked her lips to Hammer Strike’s. Her eyes widened as she pulled back. “I … I-I-I’m so sorry,” she said. “I … I didn’t mean to--well, that is to say … oh, sweet Celestia, what have I done?”
Hammer Strike took her chin in his hoof and lifted to make her look at him as he pulled her closer. Then, as she was about to go into another gibbering explosion of verbal nonsense, he moved in and locked his lips with hers. Rarity breathed sharply, growing tense, then relaxed in his embrace. When the kiss was finished, they parted slowly and Hammer Strike looked deep into her glimmering eyes. “You’ve done nothing wrong. In fact, I’m actually happy.”
“H-h-happy?” Rarity asked, still a little dazed.
“I’m happy that you feel this way. That you aren’t afraid of me. That you’re here by my side.”
“Oh, Hammer Strike,” Rarity said as she hugged him. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited to hear those words.”
“And you have no idea how long I’ve waited to say them.”
Rarity casually used her magic as the levitated the water bucket over the hot rocks, dumping it all at once and completely concealing them in a veil of steam.
“Well,” Grif looked to Avalon as he crawled out of the hidden staircase before offering a talon. “You think anyone noticed we were gone?” he asked. Three days of training had taken their toll. His black feathers were ruffled and mussey, and his eyes showed a considerable amount of fatigue. Despite this, he had a cheerful air about him.
“Well, I’d say probably so,” she said as she took the proffered talon to get up the last few steps as the stones slowly ground shut behind them. “Pensword’s certainly not going to be too thrilled. Though considering the circumstances, he’ll likely understand once we explain. Still, to think that he was here the whole time for all these years.”
“Seems to me like it’s the last place anyone would look,” Grif noted. “There are probably more than a few people out there who’d love to hunt down a demi-god”
“Good point. And this is supposed to be the Winds’ domain, not necessarily that of their children. What better place to hide than in a parent’s shadow?”
“Yeah,” Grif replied. “Probably best if we keep this on a need-to-know basis.” He looked to the snowy owl on her back. “Which means we’ll probably need a good story regarding your new friend.”
“That’s easy enough,” she shrugged. “I’ll just say she was my pet back home and she flew after me when I tried to leave her behind.”
“I guess that works.” Grif laughed as they left the library, walking steadily until they found themselves at a balcony. Waiting across the narrow gap between this balcony and another was pensword.
“Where have you been?” He asked. He looked ruffled and downright antsy. “We have to arrive at court tomorrow morning before the sun rises if we want a chance to meet with the Emperor.” He took a breath. “Also ... HE LIVES!!!!” he shouted before taking a calming breath. Letting it out slowly. “Somehow, the Bloodfeathers still lived and--” he paused. “I will explain on the way to the briefing.”
“Deep breaths, Pensword,” Grif said as he and Avalon glided the gap to Pensword’s balcony. “Jorund isn’t anything like his ancestor.”
“You try to keep calm when this Jorund is the spitting image of the one that I hung dead,” Pensword responded with a growl. “I know he is not able to help it, but he is. He looks just like him.” He took a breath in and let it out of his nose. “Still, let me tell you what I know.”
“Can we find a place to sit down first?” Grif asked.
“Of course,” Pensword responded. “I think there will be an empty room on the way to the dining hall. Also, the Avatar of Winds might help with getting us up in the line.”
The group made their way to the room, finding an area set with a few large cushions, which the three of them promptly took advantage of. Grif slumped gratefully while Avalon sat daintily, smiling at her husband in a knowing manner. Pensword simply took in their appearances and cocked his head, confused. Upon seeing them there a monk urgently made his way over and, at Grif’s behest, left to get them some refreshments.
“So, dawn tomorrow, you said?” Grif asked.
“Yes.” Pensword nodded. “Tomorrow is when things will get crazy.”
“Did you and Bellacosa go to the air shipyard yet?” Grif asked.
“Yesterday. Today is when we finish the papers and pick up the ship. Cosy picked it out.”
“Small and fast?”
“Yes. There is room for a few extra folks on top of Avalon’s entourage.”
“My entourage?” Avalon asked, confused as platters of various meats and cheeses were brought before them and laid on the ground. As an extra treat, a small cage filled with three mice was carried in for Snowy to feed on alongside her mistress. The trio casually began to eat and Avalon held the squirming mouse up for Snowy to snap up.
“Well, those were Cosy’s words,” Pensword said between bites. “He knows that most of your entourage is not coming with. However, he used this to try not to draw too much attention.” Pensword shrugged. “He just has this feeling that we might need a few extra bunks.”
“I suppose that’s well and good for now. We can come up with an excuse for it later if my ‘entourage’ doesn’t show up.” Snowy shook her head and hooted on her mistress’ shoulder. “Yes, Snowy, I quite agree. The boy has some promise, but he still needs a little polish.”
“What about arms? Forward harpoon launchers? Ballistas?” Grif asked. “We may have to leave under fire.”
“Two forward harpoon launchers, a rear swivel deck cannon, and three Ballistas on the top deck. We also have a lightning discharge system on the bottom. It almost looks like a small World War One Coast Guard Cutter.”
“Good. So, do we have any ideas on our enemy?” Grif asked. “All I know for sure is that it’s one of the kings, though others may be involved as well.”
“No clue, but I fear that they are already in the city. We do have Gryphons from one King Draknor. Do you know anything about him?” Pensword asked. “He came to visit the monastery. I have no clue if he is part of the plot or not. I just hope things can finish without too much bloodshed.
“If he’s coming to the monastery then likely he was looking for the Winds Father,” Grif said, “which makes sense. No king rose to become emperor without the help of the Winds Father.”
“And any who tried were soon found dead either by poison, assassin, or if they’re really bad, asphyxiation by The Winds,” Avalon said.
“So, we should be okay? Because the Winds Father is dead and they need to appoint a new one. That should buy us some time for any moves we need to make, right?”
“Not entirely.” Grif sighed. “Now they’ll either be looking to befriend us, or kill us, too”
“It’s standard Gryphon politics,” Avalon said as she stroked Snowy’s neck. The owl in question had made purchase on the pillow next to her mistress and leaned pleasantly into the strokes, letting out an occasional hoot of pleasure as she digested her freshly consumed meal.
“Well, I guess we will be getting visits today?” Pensword asked.
“Likely after our first audience,” Grif said. “They won’t try anything until the details of the Winds Father are made public knowledge.”
“Understood.” Pensword sighed. “That will be one sour fruit bat.”
“So tomorrow is likely to be a very long day,” Grif said. “I’d tell you to pick two guards for Bellacosa and tell everyone to be armed.”
“I shall do so. One Crystal and one Thestral,” Pensword answered. “Moon Biter should do well.”
“Good choice.” Grif nodded. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I’ll be having six Gryphons with us.”
“I do not mind. I trust your Gryphons,” Pensword answered.
“Good. Now I am in need of some serious sleep,” Grif said, “and so is Avalon. We will talk some more tomorrow.” Grif yawned, heading towards the door. Avalon followed beside as Snowy circled around the pair on silent wings while various acolytes came to clear the platters. Grif turned but once as he was about to pass through the stone archway that led to the main hall. “Can you cope?”
Pensword sighed heavily. “Why not? Been doing it the last three days.”
Blueblood estate was a bustle of activity as one of the smaller ballrooms hosted a noble gathering. Tables and cushions stood in an orderly array as nobles dined, gossipped, and ordered various servants around, creating a din that would prevent any good eavesdropping. To the sharp-eared servant, little snatches of conversation were often prevalent. “Impossible--this was not meant to happen--How did the past get involved--Has anyPony seen my bananas?”
“Order!” Baron Blueblood said, stomping his hoof on the solid oaken table before him. “EveryPony, calm down, please. Attention. Attention! This gathering of the Nobles of Opportunistic Bureaucracy is called to order!”
The din quieted down till the room was silent while the servants exited the ballroom. A light blue Unicorn with a blond mane and tail stood up. “I, Baron Sharp Spear, wish to speak of a problem that has cropped up in the past few months that seems to be growing worse by the day.”
“Baron Spear is recognized,” Baron Blue Blood nodded to the stallion.
“As we all know, we gave Celestia the idea to let these unknown creatures train some troops to keep them busy. We gave them the worst of the worst: washouts and undesirables. The original intent was to keep them tired, occupied, and butting heads with one another. However, a recent letter has brought about a massive concern in this matter.
“My son, who wanted to play soldier, has flat out refused my offer to take up the family business outside of the guard. He is actually having the gumption to say he is happy and fulfilling his cutie mark. A Silver Spear is meant to be a financial weapon, not a physical one. Yet these humans have somehow convinced him and all the other dropouts that they were meant to fight. My own son defied a direct order. My own son!” Silver spear scoffed. “If we don’t do something, and soon, everything we’ve worked so hard to gain will be in grave jeopardy, my lords. I believe that these humans, these creatures, these savages, intend to militarize our peaceful nation yet again. Do you have any idea what that would do to our enterprises?”
“And what would you suggest, Baron Spear?” Blueblood asked.
“That is why I asked for this meeting. We don’t know how to proceed. It doesn’t help that we’ve learned we have high ranking members of the Lunar Court staying in New Unity at the moment. We need a united front to show our wayward sons and daughters.”
“Yes. And it doesn’t help that Lord Hurricane and Fancy Pants are both still against us,” Baron Cookie said.
Baron Spear sighed “Does anyPony have any ideas?”
Dutchess Pansy stood up. “I would suggest a few ideas. However, with House Strike active once again, and the Gryphons raising Tartarus with Grif’s return, and Luna--” She paused. “There is one option. With the birth in--” she made a not too pleasant sound. “--House Pen, we have an opportunity. What if we move to tame the Thestrals? It would take a few generations, of course, but imagine what such an alliance could do for us. We could use the combined power of the two courts against New Unity to make them tow the line.”
“You’re suggesting we pollute our noble blood with those … bats?” Lady Cookie spoke up in a disgusted tone.
Baron Spear interjected. “While it’s true enough that as a principle we shun them, we all know we have them in our closets somewhere.” He ignored the looks they all gave him. “If it still worries you so much, then consider the possibilities of the payoff for this … investment. While we might pollute our bloodlines, imagine the control we might have in three generations? The Thestrals are savages, but as Dutchess Pansy has said, we can tame them, civilize them even. Imagine, teaching them not to reach for their weapons so often. They would draw them when we deem fit. And as much as the solar court may wish to deny it, they were an essential element in turning the tide of the war with the Gryphons a thousand years ago.
“Ladies and Gentlecolts of NOOB, we cannot act as we have in the past. They are, even if we are loath to accept it, nobility now. Besides, Who here doesn’t want to have another point of entry into House Hurricane? The more the leverage, the better the payoff.”
“Baron, if I may,” Jet Set spoke up. “Perhaps, as a rule, we do not marry the first generation of our family to the…. Thestrals, so as to keep the ruling class pure--”
“But marry those that have no hope of inheriting our titles and ruling status?” Spear asked in return. “I do believe you’re onto something, Baron Set. Still, if we are to act, we must do so swiftly. Moon River is heir to the High Duchy of Filly De Ys, Princess Luna’s new capital. We need to have at least some proper nobility there if we are to have a chance of establishing civilization in this new court.”
“Well, I think our family would be willing to start.” One mare stood up. “House Jade shall approach in the guise of patching the bad blood between our two houses. However, as we know, we all follow house Blueblood most closely as allies. If we are to succeed in this ruse, we shall need to appear to fall out of favor. If the Esteemed Baron deems our plan suitable, perhaps it would be wise for him to distance his stance with our house?” She smiled at Blueblood like a shark. “After all, would you not like to have the chance to eventually inherit the lands you have been watching over in stewardship for all these centuries?” She looked at her hoof. “When were you going to have to give them up again?”
Blueblood snorted, “When Pensword returns from playing babysitter to the Crystal Prince. Or when he dies in the Gryphon Empire, Faust willing. I never liked those walking killers, but if they act, I shall not be too remiss over the loss.”
“I’ve heard New Unity has just repelled an insect infestation. Perhaps you could send envoys in the guise of a relief effort to see if they need help, and approach Lady Lunar Fang that way?” Jet Set suggested.
Blueblood smiled coldly. “I like that idea. It would also allow us the means to spy on this construction and maybe seed a little worry in the minds of the less sure recruits. All in favor?”
“Aye!” The vote was resounding. The nobility all looked at each other with smug grins on their muzzles.
Jade whispered under her breath. “So begins the taming of the Thestral.”
Lady Fell Jade smiled as she walked along the relief column with medical supplies and trained physicians to assist in the recovery, alongside some few artisans to help rebuild what structures had been destroyed in the bout of the battle. As they passed through the Everfree, more than a few noticed black roots jutting out of the forest earth and deliberately did their best to stamp them out as the supply wagons rolled along. At last, they arrived at the entrance and Jade made her way to the bridge with her maids and a few of the other noblemares of the city.
“My lady … wasn’t there supposed to be more damage to the fortress?” A timid maid asked.
“Yes. Perhaps they focused on repairing the outer walls first. The inside is likely where the repairs and aid will be needed,” Jade said. “Hello!” She called up across the bridge. “Hello, in there!”
“Who’s there?” The words almost seemed to flow over the wall to the ground, carrying the slur of alcohol and an alien accent that Jade could not identify.
“I am Baroness Jade of Canterlot. I and my sisters in the Solar court have come to offer aid to the castle in its time of need.”
“Ooh, some big fancy pants Unicorn is at the gate wantin’ entrance!” the Pony threw back at the assembly below. “Well let me just put on me good eyepatch then!”
Jade looked back up at the Pony in disbelief. “Lord Hammer Strike lets his ponies get drunk on duty?” she muttered.
“Lady, if I’mma not drunk, then I’mma not breathen,” the Pony shot back. “Hey, you! Lazy Pants back there! Get the gate up before this prissy lady starts makin’ a fuss.”
“I beg your pardon!” Jade said, mortally offended.
“Well, ye can’t have it!” he snarled. “Your a great greedy one arn’t ye. Ye want me ta raise the gate, ya want me not drunk on duty, now ye want ma pardon. What’s next, my eyepatch too?”
“We came here to help! Why are you treating us so poorly?”
“I’m drunk!” was his response. Jade was left speechless. It’s not like one can respond to something like that.
The gate swung ponderously open as the stone portcullis rose, revealing the inner courtyard. As it did so, a suit bedecked Unicorn with a blue mask, fur, and mane smiled as the procession moved forward.
“Greetings,” he said in a suave Phrench accent. “To what do we owe this unexpected pleasure? We hope your journey was not too stressful on your royal hooves.”
“Finally, somepony with manners.” Jade smiled at the Pony. “It was pleasant enough until that stallion up there decided to make things difficult. We just wanted to bring some emergency supplies for the guard. We heard there was a changeling infestation here.”
“Was Demolition Granado rude to you? So, sorry~,” the masked Pony responded. “As for the supplies--” his eyes trailed over several expensive objects in his view. “--that sounds wonderful. We were in need of such supplies.”
“But I thought Hammer Strike was--.” Heavy Set was cut off as a hoof was placed in his mouth.
“Heavy set, do you really want to have these ponies carry all zis heavy equipment back to Canterlot?” The masked Pony questioned, hinting towards their benefit.
“Ah. Da, Da. Heavy will help you ponies.” Heavy Set nodded, moving to the most weighed down Pony and grabbing his burden with little effort.
“What chivalry.” Jade batted her eyelashes in gratitude as she and the caravan made their way into the courtyard. “You can set the things down over there,” she said, motioning with little care in the general direction of what appeared to be an empty spot, looking aloof as the Pony servants struggled to the patch of ground.
“Ey, Camo! Who’s the broad?”
A small vein stood out on the side of Jade’s head. “Pardon me, but what did you just call me?”
“I called you a broad. What, you prefer something else? Snob? Stuck up pri-”
“Scout, that is enough,” Camo cut Scout off before looking back to Jade. “Sorry, Scout is a bit of a… hooffull, most of the time.”
“Ey!”
“Ma’am!” a rather loud, gravelly, abrasive voice spoke up from just outside Jade's field of vision. “I have orders! And those orders say I am to take you to rendezvous with Lunar Fang! Is that clear, maggot?” When she turned, a rather ugly-looking red Earth Pony stood before her, leaning in uncomfortably close. He wore a strange dome-like helmet that covered the entire upper part of his face.
“M-maggot?” Jade exclaimed, horrified. “How dare you? I am the direct descendent of Jade Sphere, one of the greatest commanders of the Third Gryphon War. You will address me with the proper respect, soldier, do I make myself clear?”
“I’m sorry, I do not recognize you in my chain of command, maggot!” he shouted at her angrily. “I give the orders here!”
“But, doesn’t Hammer give orders? And Lunar, and Shield, and ... Shield…?”
“Quiet, maggot!” he shouted to Heavy. “Now move it, maggot!”
“Stand down, soldier,” a female voice spoke up as Lunar Fang landed beside him. The soldier's posture went rigid as he saluted the Thestral.
“Dutchess Lunar Fang! Thank goodness,” Jade said.
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
“We came here to assist in the recovery from the siege. … I see that we may have been too late though.” She sighed. “How are the troops faring? Do they have need of medical treatment? I’ve brought some of my best physicians.”
“We’ve been fine. Our medics are handling things okay, and all those who were injured are almost completely recovered. We suffered very little amounts of actual damage to the fortress during the siege,” she said.
“... I see.” Jade sighed. “Then what am I to do with all these supplies and personnel? They were all looking forward to helping.”
“Perhaps you should stay,” Lunar Fang noted. “It’s a long trek back and the sun would be setting soon”
“We would appreciate the hospitality. I’m sure my servants won’t inconvenience your troops too much. They brought enough supplies to last them.”
“So why are you here?” Lunar Fang said, turning towards the fort to hide her slitted eyes narrowing. “It’s not usual for nobles to go out themselves to such things.”
“Let’s just say that Blueblood and I had a little falling out. I figured, what better way to get back at him than to send aid to you and your troops?”
“Ah,” Lunar Fang said non-committedly. “Unfortunately, Lord Hammer Strike is away from the fort at the moment. I will make sure he has time to properly greet you later.”
“Thank you. I would very much appreciate it. And please … forgive my boldness, but … what on earth possessed Hammer Strike to hire troops like … that?” she asked, motioning back to where the group of Ponies were standing. “The only kind one was that Phrench Pony over there.”
“They were a set of eighteen mercenaries that came by not long after Lord Hammer Strike’s return. They’re a bit rough around the edges, but properly seasoned, so Hammer Strike hired them on in hopes their experience would help.”
“And has it?” Jade asked curiously.
“In many ways, yes.” Lunar Fang nodded. “They were quite proficient during the siege for one thing.”
“Is that so? What skills do they use?” she asked casually. “They don’t seem like the average Pony.”
“The Phrench Pony you met is so skilled at espionage he can make others believe he’s somepony else; the one on the gate has discovered several new explosive mixtures; the large one, as you sawm, has rather insane physical strength,” she noted. “The list goes on.”
“A formidable force indeed. But … what does the annoying one do?”
“He ran through a magic field during the siege like it was child’s play. He took down changelings with a club!”
Jade’s eyes widened. “That alone?” she exclaimed, shocked.
Luna Fang led her into the fort to a large upper room. “This will be where you can stay tonight. Was there anything else you need?” she asked.
“Um … no, I … don’t think so.” she looked warily at the plain bed and sheets. “I … should be alright,” she said, doing her best to put on a warm smile. She got the smile right … just not the warmth.
“You’re lying,” Lunar Fang said dryly.
“Not lying … just … trying not to be an inconvenience. There’s a difference, you know,” Jade said, doing her best to make her eyes look hurt. This was something she was much better at.
“Whatever.” Luna Fang sighed. “I need to check on my daughter.”
Jade let out a squeal of excitement. “Oooh, how is the little dear? She’s in the toddler stages now, isn’t she? They’re so cute at that age.”
“Yes, they are,” Lunar Fang said. “I really must go check on her.” The thestral turned away from the door.
“I hope I can meet her later,” Jade said, still smiling. “I … hope I don’t seem too forward, but … well, I’ve been looking for a mare to match one of my younger sons.” She blushed violently. “So the visit isn’t entirely out of idle curiosity. It was actually my willingness to go through with this that put me in disfavor with Blueblood in the first place. You know how most of the nobles feel about Thestrals.” She sighed heavily.
“... I see,” Lunar Fang said. “Well, I’m sure we can make time to talk about this in detail later. Of course, I can’t make any permanent decisions without Pensword present. He is the girl’s father after all.”
“Of course, of course. I’m not looking to form a contract immediately. I just want to get to know the girl first.”
“Well then, I’ll see you at dinner.” With that, Lunar Fang left the room. The second the door closed behind her she took to the air, flying down the hall towards Pensword’s office and the dragonfire lantern. She needed her commander. More importantly, she needed her husband. The siege on New Unity may have been destroyed, but a new siege had just begun on their family. Her eyes narrowed to slits. She would not allow them to lose.
Pensword frowned as he looked at the letter his wife had sent him. It must be urgent if she sent it by dragon fire during the time frame she knew he would be meeting with the Emperor. He had read part of it and was growing worried; however, he jumped when one of Grif’s compatriots poked their head into the room.
“Can you come here quickly? We have a slight issue with a couple of the Thestrals, and we need a mediator. They said something about ... war beds?”
Pensword grimaced. “Right, I shall be right there.” He got up, putting the letter on the bedside table he had Jerry Rigged. “I thought that was going out of phase?” he muttered to himself.
As he closed the door, a stray breeze knocked the letter to the table’s edge, where it rocked before falling onto Cosy’s bed on the other side.
Cosy yawned and stumbled as he walked past Pensword. “Uncle, what’re you doing?” he asked as he raised a hoof to stifle yet another yawn.
“I just have to take care of some things in the Thestral quarters. You can go to bed, and I will be up there shortly.”
“Okay, Uncle.” Cosy yawned yet again as he trotted into the sleeping quarters. He smiled as he strolled up to bed. Then he noticed the parchment. His brows furrowed. “A letter for me?” Unfolding the papers, he began to read, his eyes widening as he looked over the main parts of the message. “They’re doing what?” Cosy said, not believing his own tired eyes as he read and re-read the passage. “But … she’s just a foal.” He put a pondering hoof to his chin. “Pensword wouldn’t let them touch her, but at the same time ...” he muddled as he put the letter back on Pensword’s desk. “I can’t think straight,” he muttered as he yawned yet again. “I’ll just sleep on it. Yeah. Sleep is good.” With that he tucked into the covers of the bed and slowly drifted off into the world of dreams.
The room was pitch black with only dim pools of light given by weakly glowing torches in low-set sconces where they sat waiting for their audience to come. The chairs were old and dusty and didn’t seem to have been used in many a year. Cosy sat by one of these torches, feverishly writing on some parchment he levitated with a quill.
Grif looked around agitatedly. “You know, you think they’d at least give us a better waiting area,” he grumbled. “It’s like being in a box in here.”
“They probably just want to keep us safe, Grif. Daedalus is very anxious to meet with such prodigious and special persons,” Avalon said as she fussed over his feathers. “Just relax and let things come as they will.”
Grif sighed and nodded as he looked around. “What are you working on there, Bellacosa?” he asked.
“A letter to Cady,” Cosy said as he continued to work on the composition. “There’s some things I need to ask her.”
“Crystal empire business?” Grif asked
“Yeah. It’s really important, but not for the meeting. I’m just making this so Cady and I can talk more when I get back home.”
“Ah, stallion stuff, huh?” Grif chuckled a bit as he winked at Bellacosa. “Pensword, not having a panic attack over there?” he asked.
Pensword looked from the other side of the room. His restless pacing had worn a path through the dust. “Trying not to. Just… a thousand years ago, I did not want to even be on this land mass, and yet, here I am, setting hoof in a building that…” he trailed off and began treading a new path. “Still, I do not know if I am pleased or not that we are out of the way.”
“Consider it an act of faith, Pensword. Daedalus wants to keep us alive. And besides, didn’t you say you had the word of this Bloodfeather fellow that you’d be kept safe?”
“Yes, but what about the servants? Or others in the castle? There are more than just the Emperor’s guard to consider. I saw at least two different king emblems on Gryphons during our trip here.” He looked over at Cosy. “Do you want me to use the Dragonfire when we get back from this meeting?”
“Yes, please,” Cosy said. “But only if it’s alright for us to use. I don’t wanna cause problems.”
“It will be fine,” Grif assured him. “You're not nervous?”
“Well … maybe a little, but Daedalus is supposed to be around my age, right? So that means we should have a chance to get along. I did pretty good with the gryphons back at the Farflyer compound, right?”
“Daedalus is fifteen, actually,” Pensword added as he continued to pace.
“So? Compared to how long gryphons live and how long we live, doesn’t that mean we’d be closer together anyways? Besides, he said he wants to get on the Crystal Empire’s good side, right? And I want him to be our friend, too. So I don’t see why I should be scared unless he gives me a reason.”
“Being scared and being nervous aren't the same thing,” Grif told him “Being nervous is like a ball of ice in your stomach keeping you on edge and eyes open for trouble coming. It’s being nervous that can save a warrior's life on the battlefield.”
“So being nervous is kind of like being cautious?”
Grif nodded “Never be ashamed of being nervous. Fear makes you sluggish; nerves make you sharp. The important thing is learning to separate the two.”
Ten minutes later, a familiar red Gryphon entered followed by two armed Gryphons. “Avatar, the emperor seeks your guidance,” he said, bowing his head.
“I see. I won’t go to him without my companions,” Grif returned.
“Of course, Avatar. His Holiness has already had his next audience informed of the delay.”
Grif nodded as he looked at the others and gestured. Jorund turned to lead them away. “Ready?”
Pensword nodded his head, taking a slow, steadying breath. “I am.”
“I can’t wait,” Cosy said, smiling as he bounded up from his seat, rolling up the scroll and placing it in a saddlebag he’d brought with him for the wait.
The room they were led to was vast and octagon-shaped, each wall symmetrically facing each of the winds’ directions. They passed through a doorway carved in a large marble wall that towered above them. In the center of the wall, above the doorway, a large amethyst carved in the form of a rune representing the southwest had been engraved. The four cardinal direction walls were made of granite with a topaz gemstone forming a rune for each direction, while three other marble walls faced the adjacent directions, each holding an amethyst rune of their own. By the north and south stood a squad of red-armored large male Gryphons. To the east and west were posted a squad of blue-armored Gryphonesses each. To the north-east, south-east, south-west, and north-west, four massive crystalline Gryphon statues were placed standing at attention while looking positively deadly in their stillness.
In the center of the room stood a throne carved out of red stone. The two armrests both ended in an intricately carved, forward-facing Gryphon head with its beak curving down dangerously. Lapis Lazulis glinted in the eye sockets. From the Gryphon heads to the back and up the backrest, intricately carved swirls and lines had been formed that somehow made the observer think of wind just by looking at them. Sitting nervously on the throne, on a black velvet cushion, was possibly the most Gryphon-like Gryphon Grif had ever seen. His head and crest were covered in white smoothed feathers with a distinctive eagle head. His lower body was covered in sandy-brown fur with a long rope-like tail swatting in a feline manner behind him with a tuft at the end. He was clothed in a fine purple coat, but surprisingly, wore only a thin circlet of white gold upon his head.
Daedalus inclined his young head as he looked over the gathered company. “Prince Bellacosa, we have been eagerly anticipating your arrival, and that of your party.” He smiled gently. “I am hoping that in this meeting, we may be able to re-establish ties and contacts as we held in olden times, only more peaceful, rather than war-like as my ancestors were.” He then turned to Pensword. “The mighty Pensword, the Demon of the Third Great War, and one of the greatest tactical minds Equis has ever seen. In the past, many a Gryphon would have sought your death, and most likely found their own. Fortunately, I am not such a Gryphon.” He smiled. “I welcome you to my empire with all of your troops.”
Lastly, he turned to Grif. “And although it is of vital importance to establish relations with the Crystal Empire once more, I am truly honored to have the Avatar of Winds stand in the presence of my own court.” Daedalus rose from his throne and approached Grif as he walked down the stairs of his dais before finally standing in front of the mighty warrior of legend, bowing his beak low in respect.
Grif placed a claw under his beak and pulled it up. “Please, none of that,” he said.
“Have I done something wrong?” Daedalus asked. To his credit, he still managed to keep a neutral face, but his eyes told a far different story to Grif.
“I am not someone worth bowing to,” Grif told him. “Not even my family bows to me.”
“This is a rather special circumstance, Grif, and I’m bound to exercise certain traditions and decorums if I am to maintain my position in my Empire,” Daedalus said wearily as he placed a talon over his brows. “One little slip-up and the Kings will be at my throat.”
“And how will they accomplish that with the Winds Father dead?” Grif asked him.
“What did you say?” Daedalus suddenly snapped to attention.
“He was choked to death by the East Wind when we arrived at the monastery. The monks will confirm it.”
In a very un-emperor-like manner, Daedalus let out a whoop of excitement. “Winds be praised!” he shouted. “That Gryphon was as crooked as they come.” Then, realizing just what he had said and in what company, he immediately proceeded to cough, clear his throat, and return to the former impassive mask he had worn when they first entered the throne room.
“I believe it may be prudent if we would all retire to some place less exposed,” Grif told Daedalus. He looked towards Bellacosa. “Perhaps somewhere two royals can talk about the future of their two nations?”
“An excellent suggestion,” Daedalus said as he motioned to one of the guards. “Inform the Gryphons I won’t be taking any audiences today until further notice. Have Talon take over if the matter is urgent.”
“Sir, is that entirely wise?” A guard asked.
“Wise or not, I am doing it, Brunhilda. See that the arrangements are made. Go on. I doubt the Avatar has come with a vendetta.” With a shooing motion, the guards left, though several were reluctant to go. “Finally,” Daedalus said as he went up to his throne and touched one of the Lapis Lazulis on the left head. The throne slowly slid aside as a staircase revealed itself.
“Woah,” Cosy marveled, turning away from the crystal Gryphon he’d been examining when the grinding stone rumbled into his ears.
“Deep breaths, Pensword,” Grif spoke under his breath as he wrapped a wing around Avalon.
“Trying,” Pensword whispered. “Really, really trying.” His voice wavered at the end. “Doesn't help that Matthew is going nuts over this history, and secret passages, and boiler rooms.”
“What is it with you Gryphons and hidden staircases?” Grif whispered into Avalon’s ear playfully as they walked towards it.
“Haven’t the foggiest,” Avalon said. “But you have to admit, it is pretty fun.”
Daedalus entered the staircase first, followed by Bellacosa, then Pensword, then Avalon. Bellacosa’s guard and Pensword’s guard followed as Grif and Kel’leam took the rear. The staircase vanished just as they entered and the door slid back into place. All was silent, and the group was so busy following Daedalus that none had the time to notice as a dull glimmer shone in the dead eyes of the Gryphon statues.
As evening drew on in the Everfree, a ghostly form made its way across the courtyard towards the gate. A black case had been laid awkwardly across his back, the strap pulled tight across his barrel. Vital Spark looked up at the horizon where the setting sun glowed like a crimson ember as it fell lower and lower. Soon the moon would be rising and Luna would bring the stars. He sighed as he looked to the forest. It had worked once before when dealing with death. Perhaps this would work again. Pulling himself from the reverie, he finally made his way back to the gate as he waited to be recognized.
“Who’s there?” a familiar voice shouted from the gatehouse.
“Relax, Demo. It’s just me,” Vital said.
“Ah, Vital, what are you doin’ out here?” Demolition Charge asked in his scottish brogue.
“Going out for a stroll. Mind opening the gate for me?”
“Aye.” He nodded. “Just be safe out there; the Everfree is a mean mistress at night.”
“I’m sure I’ll be alright. Thanks for the concern, though, Demo.” Vital smiled as he approached the slowly opening gate. “I don’t know when I’ll be back, but I’ll call out when I do,” he said by way of farewell as he made his way across the bridge. “Make sure to let the others know I’m fine, okay? I know how much they worry about me.” He smiled then before turning and returning to his slow and steady course down the path and into the forest. Five minutes later, the gate opened yet again as two cloaked figures made their way out of the gate to follow his track.
The forest was surprisingly tranquil for a place that was supposed to be so dangerous. Vital sighed as he passed from tree to tree, looking at their disfigured boughs and their monster-like knot holes. Placing a hoof on one of the jagged trunks, Vital sighed. “You’ve been through an awful lot, haven’t you? I don’t blame you for adapting the way you have. I probably wouldn’t like it much if I had my family chopped down for houses. You’re just trying to defend yourselves.” He sighed and looked up as the first stars began to dot the sky. And then he chuckled. “If the guys saw me now, they’d probably think I was crazy.” Shaking his head, he moved on, pressing further away from the road as he followed the zigzagging game trail that had been left behind by the various predators and creatures of the forest. Eventually, he came to a large, circular clearing where the moon shone bright and the stars glimmered. He smiled then and sighed once more as he looked up at the moon.
“Looks like it’s just you and me tonight, eh, Lady Luna?” he asked, chuckling once again as he stared up into the bright moonlight. Further toward the middle of the clearing, he could just make out a blossom shaped in a pattern that looked very much like snowflakes as they absorbed the moonlight, glowing silver, even as Vital glowed white.
“I look like a ghost, don’t I?” he asked the air. “I sure feel like one sometimes.” He chuckled yet again as he levitated the case off his back and slowly laid it to the Earth. He found it was much easier to use the skill with items he was familiar with and close to. With another flick of his horn, the case popped open to reveal a red felt lining. In the hollow above, a single violin bow sat, waiting to be tightened, resined, and played. Its mother-of-pearl inlay beneath the base shimmered in the moonlight like a rainbow mist. With great care, the red felt coverlet was removed and hung over the top of the case as Vital looked down over the instrument that sat there. In the clear light, a dull sheen barely shone on the well-used instrument. The poor thing was covered in fingerprints and smudges from constant use, and a fine layer of resin had collected on the strings and the wood before its bridge. Vital sighed heavily, then concentrated as he focused his horn on the instrument.
He knew what he wanted, and the spell was supposed to be a fairly simple one for beginners. As an extra precaution, he had practiced on a glass, breaking and repairing it several times to make it as good as new. Letting the magic flow in a slow, controlled manner, he watched as the wood slowly took on a new shine, the smudges disappearing. The resin flew off the wood and strings like snow as it blew off on the wind. Soon the instrument looked brand new, its wood well-polished with a red sparkle in its varnish. With the spell successfully cast, he allowed himself the luxury of staring at the instrument for a time. A haunted, pained look came into his eyes as he softly sang to himself.
After a time, he sat and closed his eyes, absorbing the night air and the sounds of nature as it had been at home. He recalled stargazing as a child, the joy it brought. He thought of campfires and s’mores with his family. He remembered laughing with a human father who watched proudly as he caught two fish with one lure and the magic that seemed to play across the river campsite as they looked up into the stars.
“I miss you, Mom, Dad. Everybody.” He sighed. “I-I did something I’m not really proud of. And I know it was an accident. I know I shouldn’t feel guilty over it all, but I do. Heck, half the things that’ve happened here would probably make your heads spin if you only knew.” He sighed and shook his head. “I just … I don’t know.” He sighed again as he undid the velcro, holding the neck of the instrument in place with his magic while he twisted the holder for his bow and pulled it out before tightening the hairs. He performed a few tests on the strings and tuned them up, then he began to play, carefully running the bow over the string as he got used to the sensation of holding the instrument in mid-air, rather than holding it against his neck with a shoulder rest.
The song began quiet and unsure as he slowly ran the bow along, imagining the notes in his head as he recalled one of his old favorites from long ago in school that seemed to fit the occasion. A mournful melody played through the air with a celtic flavor as he continued to play. After reaching a certain point, rather than jumping into the accelerando like he was meant to, he instead began to improvise as he poured all his feelings into the art. The homesickness, the loss, the guilt, and ultimately, an unspoken longing for something he could never obtain, but only hope for. Playing at a mighty Fortissimo, the song slid up the E-string as he strained to the highest notes. The instrument continued to play, aching, crying with his pain as the tears poured down his cheeks. With a final flourish, he cut a passionate vibrato off to echo and die in the night and lowered the instrument back into its case to rest.
“I’m so sorry,” Vital said, his voice hollow and dry. “I’m so, so sorry.” Then he felt a hoof on his shoulder. His body convulsed in surprise, but the familiar voice soon put him at ease and he turned to see the glowing, compassionate eyes of his favorite Zebra.
“I heard your song crying in the dark. Tell me, what is the matter, Vital Spark?”
“Zecora … I--I--” His upper lip trembled. His eyes stung. His breath sputtered. And before he could stop himself, he sobbed and cried, the power of speech robbed by his emotions. He felt the striped forelegs circle him as two loving, ancient eyes looked into his own tear-filled ones.
“Shhh …” she hushed as she rocked him back and forth. “Let the tears flow until they run out. Then you can tell me what this is about.” She smiled at him, then closed her eyes as she began to gently sing a slow, comforting melody. There were no words, but words were not needed for something like this. As the song continued, the sobs gradually died down and the trembling ceased. Eventually, Vital disengaged from her as he looked back up to the stars. A flush of embarrassment showed in his cheeks as silence filled the space between them.
“Beautiful things, are they not?” Zecora observed as she smiled at the heavens. “For stargazing, this is the perfect spot.”
“You stargaze, too?”
Zecora nodded. “It’s one of my favorite things to do. My brother and I used to do it too. Long ago in our tribal home, on the plains of Zebrica, where our people still roam.”
“I didn’t know you had a brother,” Vital said, surprised.
A sad glimmer shone in her eyes. “I have not seen his face in many a year. And much like yourself, it has caused many a tear.” This time Vital was the one to do the hugging.
“Thank you,” she said simply as she stared up at the stars. “He always would say when they shone so bright, how he wished he could share that gentle light, to spread hope in the dark of an evil night.”
Vital chuckled. “He sounds a lot like me.”
“In many ways, he was.” She sighed. “Yes, in many ways, he was.”
“You lost him?”
“Long ago to the ice and snow.”
“He died in the mountains?” Vital asked. Zecora remained silent as she stared up at the stars. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry,” he said as he looked back up to the jeweled sky. He didn’t know why, but for some reason, being here with Zecora felt right. “If you’d like, I suppose I could try playing something else. Maybe to cheer things up?”
“Perhaps we could use a pick-me-up,” Zecora said, smiling. Vital spark levitated his bow and violin once more into the moonlight as he began to play another piece. This one spoke little of sadness or longing and more of a desire to give love and comfort; to lay old pains aside and think of happy memories instead. He closed his eyes and let instinct take over as he let the familiar desire to love, comfort, and serve fill his heart and mind with the music of his soul. He could hear the orchestra welling up in accompaniment and feel the percussion beating a steady rhythm in the background to the resonant thrum of humming voices. When the time came, he let the final note, resonate with the deeper voices before it faded out as the choir in his mind held their note, then slowly disappeared into the night air. When he had finished, he opened his eyes to see Zecora brimming with tears.
“Zecora? Are you alright? Did I do something wrong?”
The Zebra shook her head. “You truly have such a beautiful gift. The song of your heart bears great power to lift.”
“It’s not all that special,” Vital said, blushing as he stared down at the ground.
“You must not have heard that heavenly sound. You’ve attracted an audience. Just look around.” Zecora motioned around the clearing where several sets of glowing eyes blinked and peered at the pair. “And the spirits were pleased to join with your choir: a song of love filled with burning desire.”
“So that humming I heard--?” Zecora nodded in affirmation. Vital Spark just gaped, surprised that he would have received something like that, let alone actually hear it. Given enough time, he came around as he watched the eyes wink out one after the other when the creatures realized the performance was over. He carefully returned the instrument to its case and secured it before returning the felt covering where it belonged. Then he loosened the bow-hairs and returned the bow to its own mount inside the case and secured it as well before closing the case with a quiet click.
“Zecora?” Vital asked.
“Yes?”
“You can talk to spirits, right?”
Zecora nodded. “I can. Why do you ask?”
“There are some spirits I want to talk to. I was wondering if you might be able to ask them to come.”
Zecora responded with a troubled frown. “And who are these spirits you wish to see? What is the reason to call them to me?”
“To apologize.”
“You have not been here for very long. Who are the Ponies and what did they do wrong?”
Vital shook his head. “Not them, Zecora, me. I want to apologize to them. It’s … I had to kill when the castle was under siege. I--well, I want to ask for those changelings’ forgiveness.”
Zecora looked on the Unicorn with pity and the regretful look of a sympathizer.
“... You can’t, can you?” Vital asked as he met that gaze. His eyes stung from the want to make more tears, but he’d already cried himself out.
Zecora shook her head sadly. “They are out of my reach. No one can prevail, when the spirit has passed beyond the veil.”
“You mean the second one.”
Zecora nodded. “The first veil lies between Spirit and Mortal. Few eyes on this world can breach that portal. The second lies betwixt this world and the next. There, no power can force them. The spirits find rest.”
“Then I’ll never get to apologize.”
“Someday you can, and someday, you will,” Zecora said as she laid a hoof around Vital’s shoulder. “But first you must live, your life’s purpose fulfill.”
“And how can I do that if I can’t get back home?” Vital asked.
“The heavens work in mysterious ways. You’ll learn soon enough how destiny plays.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Zecora shook her head and smiled. “You will see, Vital. You will see.”
For a rare moment in his life, Hammer Strike walked through the Everfree with a grin on his face, burning away at the growth on the path to New Unity. Soon he found himself looking at the gates, Demolition Charge on duty while Demolition Granado was cracking open another bottle.
“Granado, report.”
“It was a’ alright day,” he said. “Until a prissy miss unicorn showed up from Canterlot with her bunch of idiots.”
Hammer’s grin dropped faster than a hot potato. “Did you get her name?”
“Somethin’ like Fools Jade?” he asked Hammer Strike.
“Fools Jade?” Hammer hummed for a moment before realisation hit him. “Oh, Fel Jade... Well, you’re close on that one.” He sighed heavily. “Why couldn’t it have been Fancy Pants, or one of the Hurricanes?”
“Hammer, that Unicorn, you know she donnae need to make it back. We could always say she never made it here,” the cycloptic Pony said as he attempted to make a clever motion.
“Demo, no. That’ll lead more of their kind here.”
“Damn,” he sighed.
“That explains the choice in poison tonight.”
“Ya want some?” Demo offered his bottle, which, rather than the average three X’s, simply had a ring of them around the center.
“As much as I’d love to, I’m pretty sure I’ll burn it out in moments.”
“Don’t go insane in there, Hammer,” Demolition Granado said as he took another swig.
“It’s too late for that, Granado. I might just head to my forge. Unless she expects a meeting, which I am really hoping she doesn’t.”
“Go do that, then,” Demo Granado said, followed by a massive belch. “I’ll keep watch up here--” he made another indelicate noise “--like I always do.”
The long passage twisted and wound through the bowels of the palace as Daedalus led the way with confidence. The way was kept lit by glowing blue crystals jutting from the walls at various intervals, carved to take on the appearance of living flame. Eventually they came to a fork in the passage, and the young Emperor took the left turn, leading them up several flights of stairs until they reached what appeared to be a dead end. Nicking himself, Daedalus placed the blood on the stone surface and it immediately shifted aside, revealing a gradually spinning inner wall, cleverly built to match the outer one. Inside, a small but functional council room waited for them. A somewhat less ornate throne sat at the head as a series of chairs built for multiple species sat waiting on either side.
“We should be safe to talk here freely,” Daedalus said as he entered. “This council room doubles as a panic chamber. The bloodstone insures that I’m the only one with the key, and concealment spells protect it from prying eyes outside.”
“Good.” Grif sighed with relief. “God, I hate formalities.”
Pensword did not say anything. He simply looked around before moving to take a seat.
Daedalus chuckled. “You and me both.” He walked up to Cosy and looked him over. “I hear tell you caused quite a stir back in the Museum, Bellacosa.” He smiled, a mischievous glint in his eye. “You have no idea how happy I am you did.”
Cosy blushed. “Thanks, your majesty. But if you don’t mind, call me Cosy. Everybody else does.”
“Cosy it is, then.” Daedalus took the young colt’s hoof in his own taloned hand and shook. “It really is wonderful to have you and your friends here in my court. The Winds couldn’t have chosen a better time to answer my prayers.” He turned to face Pensword. “Sorry for all the stiffness back there. I’m afraid that’s the only way I can really hold any power or respect right now. If I let the people see some of my real personality, they’d probably try to kill me all the faster.” He sighed. “The lovely burdens of state.”
Pensword looked at the Emperor. “I am an enemy of your entire nation. You do not need to butter me up, nor do you need to explain yourself to me.” He sat down in the chair to prove his point.
“You may be an enemy to our nation, Pensword, but as far as I’m concerned, the nation can hang itself. It practically has already.” Daedalus spat as hate filled his eyes. “Those stupid kings couldn’t stop squabbling for five minutes to focus on the people if their lives depended on it.”
Then Daedalus turned to face Grif and Kel’leam. “Kel’leam, I’m truly sorry,” he said. “You deserved a medal of honor for what you did. Instead, I could only banish you to protect you.” He smashed a fist against the table. “Winds damnit, what good is being Emperor if you can’t even rule properly?”
“I found honor even so,” Kel’leam told him. “I have no regrets.”
“Winds bless you, Kel’leam,” Daedalus said gravely as he turned to face Grif. A playful smile played across his beak.
“You know, I always imagined running up to you and asking you a thousand questions all at once. I must’ve gone over this meeting at least a thousand different times before you finally arrived and I still don’t know what to say.” He laughed. “Imagine that; I meet the greatest Gryphon to live since Grask Dragonfeller himself, and I don’t even know what to say.” He stuck out a taloned hand. “It’s good to finally meet you in the flesh, Grif.”
“I’m far from the greatest.” Grif shook his head. Still, he took the hand. “I’ve done plenty to make that clear.”
“And modest, too. Yet another thing the historians got wrong.” Daedalus laughed, then sighed. “I really wish our people would stop being such prideful jackasses.”
Cosy’s mouth dropped open.
“What? Don’t tell me you haven’t heard cursing from your guards before, Cosy. Some things, no matter how different the races may be, are always universal.” Daedalus plopped himself down in the smaller throne as the entrance shut itself. “Please, sit down. We have a lot to discuss, and I’m guessing you all chose to be Cosy’s escorts for more than just a desire to see the capital.”
Pensword looked at Cosy. “I will speak on the issue after we wrap up with the pleasantries with Cosy. I am sorry, but that is what I am willing to do.” He was a little shocked the Emperor had seen through the facade. He had thought that the Gryphons would bank on Cosy wanting to come from a position of power, bringing the two with him for the sake of intimidation.
“Pensword,” Cosy said. “If I’m old enough to start being a diplomat for the empire, then I’m old enough to get involved in whatever else you guys are starting. There’s no place safer than this room, and we have no idea when we might get the chance to be in a place like this again. Don’t worry about me. Tell him what you need to say.”
“Daedalus, we need to alter the treaty Equestria and Gryphonia formed at the end of the war,” Grif said bluntly, “giving equestria the right to protect its allies and colonies.”
“You found a loophole in the accords,” Daedalus said as he raised a taloned hand to his head. “Great. One more thing to juggle. How bad is it, Grif? Tell me honestly.”
“If the kings ever figure out it’s there, they could systematically target Equestria’s allies and colonies until the country collapses economically.”
“I can see the problem.” Daedalus nodded as he tented his talons on the table. “I certainly wouldn’t mind putting my seal to a new set of accords, but there is a slight problem. My seal won’t be enough. We’d need the seal of the Equestrian Diarchy as well. Without that, no Gryphon alive would be willing to acknowledge it. At least, no Gryphon of the old ways.”
Grif smiled at Pensword. “I think someone should be able to get that.”
“I can get the Lunar Seal with ease. It is the Solar Seal that will bring trouble. The Diarchy have created their own cities for their seats of power,” Pensword answered. “Still, I must have two or three days to get this taken care of.”
“Pensword, I thought Celestia really liked you, too. And she knows the importance of something like this. Couldn’t you just send her a letter with Grif’s dragon fire and tell her about the emergency? I think she’d understand.”
“Yes and no,” Pensword answered. “The easy part is getting the letter to Celestia. The hard part is getting the seal to us. Celestia is good, but the others of the court, I am not so sure.”
“If those nobles don’t realize the danger they’re in, I pity them. Just tell them their assets are in danger of being destroyed. From what I’ve seen in our records, money is something those nobles relate to very well,” Daedalus said.
“The point is to get this done before one of the kings find out, or you may find the two of us unfortunately against you in a massive land war.”
Daedalus’ eyes darkened. “Not if I have anything to say about it, they won’t. No King can officially declare or go to war without my approval. And I’ll die before I give it.”
“That’s another thing, Daedalus,” Grif said. “You should send word to the Western Safehouse. Tell them to start preparing for your arrival.”
“It’s that close already?”
“Daedalus, we have reason to believe the same king who killed your parents is targeting you next.” Grif looked to Avalon. “Lord Farflyer would have warned you himself, but he still hasn’t fully recovered.”
Daedalus growled. “Grask Bloodbeak.” His talons dug into the table, screeching against the stone as he pulled them back. With some effort, he managed to regain control of himself and sighed wearily. “Thank you, Grif. I’ll have the necessary preparations made.”
“...Say what?” Grif asked. “I thought for a moment I almost heard you say Grask.”
“I did.” Daedalus growled again. “He’s a disgrace to his name. He’s even gone so far as to claim direct descent.”
“Grask has no surviving descendants,” Grif growled.
“With his sins, that’s just the tip of the iceberg. Part of me wants to stay here, just so I can get the chance to cut his head off myself.”
“Well then, we’d best hope he steps out of line before I leave,” Grif said. “You prefer silver, or gold platter?”
“Please. He deserves nothing so ornate. Put it in a burlap sack and tear the kinslayer’s wings off if you get the chance. He doesn’t deserve them.”
“You have a week at most, Daedalus. I’d start making necessary arrangements in secret. You have a betrothed? Get her out of the city ASAP,” Grif told him. “Start subtly getting the Gantrathor primed and ready.”
“Rest assured, I will,” Daedalus promised. “Fortunately, I haven’t had the time to focus on finding a mate yet, so that’ll be one less thing to worry about. I’ll make sure to get things rolling right away. Was there anything else we needed to discuss?”
“It’s not really so important, but I have a trade agreement we can go over when all the fighting’s done,” Cosy said. “Your airships could do wonders for our Empire, and I’m sure our crystal technology can only benefit yours.”
Daedalus laughed. “If we all survive this, you’ve got yourself a deal, Cosy.”
Shawn sat at his desk. Drawings were scattered and mixed in with documents and notes on the table. In front of him was a note entry that he was writing about current events around New Unity, as well as reminders to himself on main projects that could be worked on and on a few personal projects that he wanted to do.
‘...With a few changes to design thirty-four, you could alter it to work on an endless fuel supply...’
Shawn shook his head. “What fuel can be infinite and not require a constant part of my focus to create?”
Shawn felt confused. He hadn’t gotten to the chapter yet. Reaching for the blueprint in mind, he made a few notes on the side. Supplying such a thing with power could work.
‘...Adding a system to regulate the creation of crystallized aspects inside the machine would allow you to use it without the focus on fuel consumption...’
“That could work…”
‘It will work.’
Shawn nodded as he continued to write more onto the paper in front of him. After a few moments, he finished writing and nodded to the plans. It took a moment for him to register a few things.
“Wait,” he said as his eyes widened. Without giving it a second thought, he grabbed one of knives in his desk and stood, turning towards the voice, only to have the air greet him in return.
“...What?” He questioned, looking around his office for who had been talking to him. “Show yourself.”
After hearing nothing in return; no voice, no breath, no movement, for a solid few minutes, he lowered the knife and looked towards the paper he was writing on. It was full of notes on a system that could create Thaumic Crystals with use if the user had such a thaumic field, or enough energy to do so: a near constant fuel source that needed only a brief source of magic to start the process.
But the question in his mind wasn’t on if it would work. He knew it would. No, the question on his mind was how did he know how to make it?
The simple decor of the Avatar’s room spoke to his practical nature as he sat on the floor, his lighter at the ready while it burned Pensword’s letter. Soon the ash was gone, starting its long journey from Gryphonia to Equestria. Grif prayed the Winds would speed it along its way as he flicked the lid hastily shut. Avalon lay lazily on the bed as she perused her notebook, where she had transcribed many important pieces of information from her studies during the three days she and Grif had been with the Quetzalcoatl.
“So how long before the attempts of flattery and bribery, do you think?” Grif asked his wife as he put his lighter away and began sharpening his weapons.
“Oh, I figure it’ll be pretty soon. You are their only hope of getting what they want, after all. And I doubt they want to try to kill you after all you did during the war,” she said casually as she continued to review.
“Should I go with easily insulted and stuck up, or possibly condescending? I do good acting condescending,” Grif said as he worked. “So many things to consider.”
“You do well acting condescending, dear,” Avalon casually corrected as she flipped a page in her notebook. “As for the Kings and their envoys, just act like you. You don’t really want them to know you’re playing with them.”
“But that's the fun part,” Grif laughed as he worked.
“Whatever you say, dear. But if you want some lessons from a master, the best way to play with them is to make it seem as real as possible. If condescending is part of your nature, then by all means, feel free to use it. Or if it’s not, then make sure to put some other part of you in there that is you so it’s not all fake.”
Any further banter was interrupted by a knocking at the door. revealing Brother Cloud Claw. “Avatar, the kings have requested your presence in a private room.”
“I see.” Grif nodded. “Well, tell them I will attend to them when I’ve finished maintaining my weapons.”
“They seemed very adamant about seeing you now,” Cloud Claw said.
“Brother, I have never paused in my weapons maintenance for anything. That includes a massive attack on my primary camp during the war. If I didn’t stop it, even then, I’m not stopping that habit now. They will simply have to wait.”
Cloudclaw nodded. “As you wish. I will send the message.”
Grif closed the door and returned to his weapons, a grin on his face as he anticipated the coming exchange.
Pensword paused as he heard a knock at his door. He had been working with Cosy, teaching basic tactics and verbal sparring techniques, an invaluable skill to any noble. At the moment, a rudimentary chess board was being used to help visualize some of the tactics.
“Are you gonna get that, Uncle, or should I?” Cosy asked.
Pensword looked to the door. “I’ll get it,” he muttered as he stood up and walked over He opened it just slightly. “Yes?” He growled, using his commander’s voice.
“Commander Pensword? The kings have requested a meeting with you in a private room,” the monk behind the door said.
Pensword looked behind him. “Cosy, stay in the room. Be safe, and do not open to anyone unless it is someone you trust behind the door.” For now, Pensword decided he would listen to what the Kings had to say. He had a feeling that he was really the second target here. If they were going after him now, then Grif had most likely snubbed them. He smirked at the thought.
“Yes, Uncle,” Cosy said, nodding as Pensword left. The commander rolled his eyes as he followed his guide down the halls. He wanted to get this over with as soon as possible.
Pensword was led down a series of halls until they came to a large sectioned-off door. The monk knocked hard on the edge before opening and gesturing for Pensword to enter.
Pensword marched in wearing his full uniform from the Third Gryphon War, including two medallions around his neck. One was from his home, Mountainside Falls, and the other was the emblem of the office of Commandant at Fort Triumph. He resolutely looked the kings in the eye without breaking pace as he stood before them where they sat. He would not give them the satisfaction of a bow.
The first Gryphon sitting on the right of his table was a large golden eagle-leopard Gryphon wearing a finely made red garment. A large serrated sword was strapped to his back. “Greetings, Pensword. I am King Grask Bloodbeak,” he said, almost with painful courtesy. “We’re so glad you could make it.”
“What is so important that you wish to speak to The Demon?” Pensword asked, getting straight to the point. As an added emphasis, he moved his wing aside to reveal the legendary pitchfork, Concord.
A platinum gryphon with an albatross’ wings and the body of a siberian tiger stood from where he sat and cleared his throat. “It has come to our attention that a certain crisis of the faith has arisen in our kingdom. With concern for our kingdoms and our peoples whom we govern respectively, it is our wish to insure that the resolution of this crisis ends with a … favorable outcome.”
“Favorable to whom? Your subjects? The Nobles in your courts? Or what about your own selves? Or your treasuries? I have heard that too many times… most of them slated against my own race,” he said, baring his fangs as he twitched his left ear, emphasizing his Thestral features. “Just who gets this favorable outcome?”
“You are aware that we are bound by the same treaty you witnessed the signing of,” the third Gryphon, a kingfisher-headed gryphon with the body of an ocelot said.
“I am not talking about my own race. Celestia sees to that protection. What I worry about is your own people. An unhappy population could rise up and dispose of the entire system if it gets taxed too much, not on wealth, but on the lives and souls of the nation as well.”
“Your concerns are legitimate, Commander Pensword,” Grask Bloodbeak said as he signaled for his allies to remain where they sat. “Please, what would you desire for relations between our two countries? Let us discuss an optimal situation for both Gryphons and Ponies.” His tone was surprisingly level, betraying no hint of aggression or aggravation.
“A full acknowledgement and apology for the tragedy of the Third Gryphon War to my face, including acceptance of responsibility for all the innocent lives lost in the surrounding villages. Also, a guarantee that Ponies can travel unmolested to the Kingdoms and Imperial city to help conduct trade, or following through on the promise to build a city for trading on the coast.”
“Out of the question! Those Ponies brought their fates on themselves for daring to push into our lands.” The albatross fumed, smashing his fist on the table.
“Be silent, Cornelius!” Grask barked sharply. “Remember that the commander was there, whereas we have only knowledge passed down.” He looked to Pensword and nodded his beak, deliberately ignoring the glare he received from the Albatross-tiger cross Gryphon. “Please, forgive him. Some of us forget that history has a way of dirtying the details.”
“Then Faust and Winds be praised I am back to clean it up,” Pensword growled. “Let this be your first lesson. My town, which was wiped out, was a day’s hard flight from the boarder’s no-fly zone. As you know, the zone itself was a day’s hard flight wide.” He glared at the three Gryphons. Their guards shifted uneasily around the edge of the room.
“My sincere apologies regarding your village, commander.” Grask eyed Cornelius with such cold fury that the guards could swear the temperature of the room had dropped. “But please understand that was a thousand years ago. We sincerely hope that peace between us and you is possible after all this time.”
“I will see what I can do. What was a Thousand years ago for you is still very recent for me. Still, it seems that we are at the stage of trying to come to some type of understanding?”
“Well, Commander, I understand your desire for an apology, but I’m afraid it’s quite impossible as things stand now,” Grask said as he sat back. “I mean, I can offer you my apologies, but not under any official means without the emperor's approval.”
“Right. While I would not mind the apology, it might cause a problem for your plans. Would it bring havoc?” He asked with a smirk. “Still, I am a reasonable stallion. What would you be willing to trade for me to remove that demand?”
“Well, if a stronger emperor were in place, I could see your apology being made publicly in less than a year hence.” The gryphon smiled. “As well as ensuring that trading ports and relations were strengthened between our peoples. What, with the amount of assassinations that have happened amongst the nobility in the last year, it’s amazing Daedalus is even still alive.”
Pensword continued his cold smirk. “Weak emperors aside, though, your assassins seem to be a little hog wild, what with at least two attempts on my own life, as well as that of Prince Bellacosa of the Crystal Empire, and the Avatar of Winds.”
Grask assumed a haughty and aloof expression. “I am insulted that you would associate me with the barbarians known as the Black Tips.” He grimaced. “They have been nothing but brigands for hundreds of years.”
“Still, what do you plan on doing? I have heard no less than three times that the Black Tips have been, or will be, taken care of. What do you plan on doing with them? I assume you have a plan for this ‘weakness?’”
The kingfisher spoke up. “When flesh is infected or decayed, it must first be … removed.” He ran a finger across his neck with a talon to make his point.
Pensword let his silence do the talking.
“Of course, for that, the new emperor would require the Avatar’s support with the Winds Father's unfortunate passing,” Grask said.
“You wish for me to put in a good word for you?” Pensword asked.
“I would never ask you to use your comradery with the Avatar to further my personal means,” Grask said in a rather obvious act of confusion. “But if such a thing were to happen, it would be most beneficial.”
“... We shall see,” Pensword answered.
Fel Jade slowly made her way down the hall, humming to herself as she ran a brush through her hair and applied some rouge to her cheeks before they were teleported away in a flash of light. For a brief moment, she allowed her mind to wander as she recalled the conversation she had had after the meeting with NOOB had been concluded.
“You’re asking me to do what, Blueblood?”
“If it comes down to it, Fel Jade, I want you to seduce Hammer Strike. He has money, he has power, and he has the Princess’ ears on top of owning all of Everfree. The one thing he doesn’t have is a mare to share his passions with. Should your initial efforts prove unsuccessful, it falls to you to fall back to seduction.”
“It’s only been a few years, Blueblood!”
“Plenty of time to get over the loss of a stallion you hardly loved in the first place.”
“Be careful what you say, Blueblood.”
“Jade, do you want this plan to succeed or not?”
“Of course I do, but--”
“Then do it, Fel. This is not up for discussion.”
Fel Jade sighed as she knocked on the door.
“You don’t have to knock; enter,” Hammer Strike called from inside.
Fel Jade opened the door. “Hammer Strike, we need to ta-wahahaaaa!” she shrieked as she jumped three feet into the air, her carefully groomed mane flaring perfectly straight.
Hammer Strike looked up from his desk, giving her a questioning look. “What?” Hammer Strike’s study was a simple room with the bare essentials: a few bookshelves and chairs scattered around at various intervals and the large desk where Hammer Strike sat working. It was actually three placed together around him. Off to the side of the room, a fireplace roared and crackled, casting light and warmth through the room.
“M-m-m-m-manticore!” she shrieked as she pointed toward the lounging lion-scorpion hybrid that now lay with its ears laid back on its massive pillow by said fireplace as he absorbed its warmth.
“Oh, him. That’s just El Fluffy.”
“El … Fluffy,” Fel repeated, dumbstruck. The manticore yawned at her and fixed her with its cold feline eyes.
“Basically, he followed me back here and we just kept him around. Nobody seems to mind.” Hammer Strike shrugged. “Heck, he even helped out during the Changeling siege.”
Fel Jade shuddered at the thought of the manticore tearing into Pony flesh. “And you’re sure he’s tame?”
“Hasn’t attacked anyone. So yeah, most likely.”
“Oh. Okay then.” She walked casually up to Hammer Strike, flicking her tail as the scent of perfume filled the room.
“So what brings you to my study?” He questioned, glancing up at her for a moment.
“I just wanted to make contact. Say hello … you know,” she said, looking awkwardly around the room.
“I take it you don’t care much for the environment, considering everything is still under construction.”
“I’ll admit it has some to be desired, but restoring and building always takes time. I’m actually rather surprised you don’t have other quarters though,” Fel said as she approached El Fluffy. He rumbled, snorted, sneezed, then growled at her, baring his teeth. Fel Jade let out an “eep” of surprise before jumping back.
“...Odd, he’s usually just relaxed most of the time,” Hammer said, glancing at Fluffy. “That is, unless you’re armed or carrying a poison of some sort.”
“Poison?” she exclaimed, shocked. “Why would I have poison with me?”
“To be honest, I wouldn’t know. Then again, I know that a lot of Ponies, Gryphons, Minotaurs, and other possible races would like me dead.”
“Hammer Strike, I am many things, but I am most certainly not a killer.” She sighed. “It must be my perfume. It probably irritated the ... poor thing’s nose.” El Fluffy growled again, his eyes narrowing.
Hammer Strike hummed to himself as he finished off the paper he was working on, moving it off to the side. “Plausible. Fluffy isn’t around many ponies who wear perfume.”
“None of your soldiers wear it in their off hours?” she asked, surprised.
“Not around New Unity. No reason to.”
“How surprising. I thought they would if they were going out for dinner or something.”
“Perhaps when New Unity has places to go for dinner. For now, we are fixing the castle here and then comes the city around it.”
“I see. And what are your plans for the future, Hammer Strike?”
“Rebuild this place like it use to be. At least, with better buildings and proper plumbing.”
“Oi, Hammer Strike!” A voice called out from behind the door. “You in there?” Fel Jade went rigid.
“One moment, Scout,” Hammer called out.
“Um … it seems you’re rather busy, or are about to be anyways. Maybe I should come back at another time … when you’re not so … occupied,” she said, shying away to the side of the door.
The door flew open, smacking Jade in the face as Scout walked in. “I got that report for you.”
The door slowly creaked back on its hinges as Fel Jade twitched and groaned against the wall. She shook her head to get ahold of her senses, only to shriek as she noticed how her perfectly coiffed mane was now a frazzled mess.
“Ah, Cracked Ruby, you shouldn’t be hiding around doors like that.” Scout sighed and shook his head. “Some ponies just aren’t careful around here.”
Fel Jade made several strangled noises, her left eye twitching.
“Might want Doc to check out that twitch. Doesn’t look pretty.”
A red flush ran up Fel Jade’s neck and slowly mottled her face until it was completely red. “You--you--you!” she sputtered.
“Me, me, me? You hit your head or somethin’? Yeah, sweetheart, you really need to see the Doc.”
Steam blew out her ears as she slammed a hoof into the floor before breathing heavily to get herself under control. The mottling slowly retreated and she composed herself with great difficulty. El Fluffy watched with his usual impassive, unblinking gaze. “With your permission, Hammer Strike, I have some things I need to take care of. Do you mind?”
“Sorry to cut the conversation short. We’ll have to resume some other time,” Hammer Strike said, nodding
“Yes … yes, of course.” She curtsied, then made her way toward the door. “Scout,” she said curtly.
“See ya’ around, Ruby.”
Fel Jade’s fur frizzled as she left before the door slammed shut with a magical glow, nearly shaking it from its hinges.
“Man, what’s up with her? Engie keep her awake with his music?”
“No, she just doesn’t care for you.”
“...Well I don’t really care for her, but at least I’m nice about it.”
“Yeah…” Hammer trailed off for a moment. “Perfect timing, by the way,” he said after making sure Jade was far enough away.
“It’s what I do best, besides clubbing a few Changelings, of course,” Scout replied boastfully.
“Cool it, Scout. I can still adjust your pay.”
“You got it, boss.”
Vital Spark walked nervously behind his bedroom maid as they made their way through the glowing green tunnels beneath the gardens. “So why did Me-Me want to see me again?” he asked as his ears swiveled, picking up on the echoes of their hoofsteps as they clopped across the stone.
“The queen fears that you may be under a great deal of stress. She believes she can bring to light some knowledge you may find enlightening.”
“Well, I guess she’s right on the first one at least. I’ve been dealing with something for a while now and it’s getting a little easier, but it’s still difficult to bear, you know?”
“Sadly, I’m not a soldier.” His maid shook her head. “I don’t think I’ll ever fully understand what it’s like to be in that position, but mother was a soldier before.”
Vital chuckled. “That makes two of us. I guess I just sort of wish I could apologize to them, you know?”
“That's always very admirable,” she said. “I have heard others say that people like you should hold on to that.”
“Not that it would make much of a difference,” a familiar voice spoke up as Me-Me approached them from an intersecting tunnel. “Thank you for bringing him, Scuttle Sweep, you may go now.” Me-Me nodded.
“Of course, mother.” The changeling nodded in return before turning and leaving.
“So what’s this all about, Me-Me?” Vital asked. “Why the urgency?”
“Because you are far more damaged than you're letting others believe,” Me-Me said, pushing a hoof against his chest.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Me-Me.”
“If you tell a pony that, they might believe you,” she told him, “but I am an emotivore. I can sense your emotions,” she reminded him. “Follow,” she said as she turned and walked down the tunnel she’d approached from.
Vital sighed and did as instructed. “I’m not about to deny it. If you say I’m in deeper pain than I think, I’ll believe you. Heck, I’m not all that surprised, honestly.”
“You blame yourself for the deaths of soldiers 448 - 453, my brothers,” she said as they approached the entrance to a chamber.
“I should. It was my magic that did them in. My thought, my action, my responsibility.”
“You know what separates them from you?” she asked him as they entered a large chamber glowing a deep and welcoming purple. The walls had been cultured in such a fashion that benches seemed to be molded from it. “You can feel guilt.”
“And they can’t?”
“My mother didn’t allow us feelings, thoughts, a sense of self. It was better in her opinion. It made us stronger, more powerful soldiers.” She chuckled dryly. “I’d say we were no better than animals, but many animals were in much more fortunate positions.”
“Then why did they laugh so much when they were attacking Canterlot? Did that come from them or from Chrysalis?”
“Mother's influence is the only emotion in the hive mind. When water sits still, a pebble makes far-reaching ripples.” She laughed again. “Only she and my sister had any thoughts or feelings. To be honest, the rest of us didn’t even know what gender we were.”
“That bad?”
“The perfect soldier is unquestioning. What better than a soldier who could not comprehend what a question was?” she asked. “I brought you here to give you the thanks that they could not. … You gave them peace.”
“After I broke and pierced their everything.” Vital shuddered again as the memories of what he’d done came rushing back.
“You ended a lifetime of emptiness. You let them have rest.”
“Then why can’t I rest?” Vital ran an angry foreleg over his eyes to rub the tears. “Why do I still see them every night? Why do I have to relive that siege over and over again? Why?” The sound of his hoof echoed through the halls as it slammed back onto the stone.
“Because you haven’t been forgiven by the most important person,” Me-Me told him.
Vital chuckled. “You’re not the first one to bring that up with me. I learned that lesson a long time ago.”
“Did you?” she asked. Suddenly her form erupted in green fire, replacing her with his own image. “You killed them. You ended the lives of six changelings. Why didn’t you save them?”
“Because I don’t know how!” Vital’s own horn flared, the blue clashing with the purple of the room.
“Would Twilight have killed them? Would Luna? Would Cadence? They could have saved them!” the figure shouted back.
“I know that.” The doppelganger looked surprised as Vital’s horn dimmed. “I know.”
“Those others were weak. You were strong. You and Trixie could have simply walked away,” he growled. The green flames erupted, revealing Pensword glaring daggers at him. “I thought you were better than that!” he growled. “You're a murderer!”
The flames erupted again, revealing Hammer Strike with his level, flat stare as he slowly clapped. “Oh, good job. Killing those six living things. You must be so proud.” The sarcasm cut like a knife.
“Shut up!” A beam of blue energy shot at the image of Hammer Strike. A glowing green barrier had sprung up when the dust cleared, protecting the doppelganger. “Why are you doing this?” Vital asked as he struggled to hold his breath, to prevent the sobs from racking his body as he fired another and still another randomly around the room, filling it with dust and debris as he followed Me-Me’s path as she switched between forms, each staring with scorn, each hurling insult after insult. “What was I supposed to do?” Vital finally yelled, the tears streaming. “What was I supposed to do?” He lowered himself to the ground and laid his hooves over his head. “What?” he sobbed. “What?” He shook, unable to speak as he broke down entirely, the dust sifting around him.
Me-Me said nothing as she returned to her base form. Lying beside him, she laid a gossamer wing across his body and hummed soothingly as she comforted him. “If my brothers could speak to you, they would thank you for what you've done,” she whispered to him. “They would thank you. Remember that, and let it go.”
Grif entered the room, his weapons and armor gleaming in the low torchlight, contrasting with the blackness of his feathers as they almost seemed to devour the light around them. He stood stone faced and impassive as he stared at them expectantly. Neither bow nor even a nod of respect was given as he waited for them to stand for him. They did not.
“Greetings, Grif. We’ve been waiting for you for some time. Your weapons are well, I trust?” Grask asked conversationally as his soldiers closed the door.
“Poor maintenance promotes wear, tear, and rust,” Grif said. “Only an idiot neglects tools of such importance.”
“True, true. A Gryphon is only as good as his weapon and talons. Please, take a seat. We have much to discuss.”
Grif took his time pulling the seat out and circling around before sitting. He tented his talons carefully on the table. “So how can I help you, gentlemen?”
“I hear you and your companions had some trouble on the way to the capital.”
“Nothing I couldn’t handle. Filthy vermin should have known better.” Grif shrugged.
“They are an unfortunate oversight, though, and a sign of weakness in our emperor's rule. My fellow Kings and I have done our best to make ends meet, but we can only do so much in our own territories.” He sighed heavily.
“And have you brought any ideas to the Emperor? Offered your wisdom?” Grif asked.
“There are many spies in the empire, Grif. We’ve tried to get a private audience with him, but he’s not interested.”
“The ignorance of youth, no?” Grif said as he feigned a somewhat judgmental grin. “And what do you gentlemen plan to do about it all then?” he asked. “Or had you been making plans on that front with the late Father?” Grif asked in an even tone.
“Let’s just get straight to the point, Grask, I’m sick and tired of playing with your little games,” Cornelius said, shifting uncomfortably in his seat as his broad pinions flexed.
“And who has time for that these days?” Grif snickered as he eyed them. “You gentlemen know I have no love for the homeland; you have no danger from me.”
“You will swear to this?” Grask asked.
“I swear that Daedalus shall never know of what transpires here tonight, neither will the empire, nor he, affect my judgement,” Grif said, nicking his talon in the process.
“Good,” Grask said. “Then we can get down to business. You are aware, of course, that you need to make a decision on the next Winds Father, correct?”
“Of course, but that's not a decision to be taken lightly. The public would look down, I think, if I were to decide on a noble’s relative or some other such thing.”
“Naturally,” the Kingfisher spoke up. “We would never suggest such a thing. We simply hope you plan to select one of the more senior monks. They’re better trained and more well versed in our history and lore.”
“Now then, gentlemen, tell me how you plan to deal with the weakness of the emperor,” Grif said.
“The usual way,” Grask said, waving a hand dismissively. “The old ways are the best, after all.”
“And forgive me for being the devil’s advocate, but what about if the emperor were to reach the Gantrithor? I mean, the thrusters on that ship alone would make it impossible to catch,” Grif asked, fishing for details as he acted like a bumbling strategist.
“We have everything under control, Grif, you needn’t fear,” Grask assured him. “Just make sure to enjoy your stay,” he said, smirking.
"You’ll forgive me, but my wife has plans for exploring the palace next week. I need to be assured that she won’t wind up dead.”
“If we wanted her dead, Grif, she already would be,” Grask said. “Fortunately, no one here is so foolish,” he said, eying his companions meaningfully.
“Of course not,” Grif said. The look in his eyes shone with a fire that seemed to burn the three kings down to their very spirits. “Such action would result in your deaths, your families’ deaths, and your clans’ blood pouring in the streets of your cities.” He chuckled. “Now, gentlemen, I have to ask which of you would be the one to take our emperor’s place in showing our people their strength?” Grif asked.
“That, dear Grif, is to be a surprise.” Grask smiled.
“I… see.” Grif sighed. “Well, gentlemen, I have no argument our people have lost their view on what true strength is, and I fully believe that the four of us agree this needs to change.”
“Leave it to us,” Grask said.
“I have no doubt we shall be seeing each other again before the end of my trip, gentlemen.” Grif nodded. “Now you three should leave. Do it quickly and by different directions. You three came here together, and honestly, a fledgling could tell that was suspicious enough,” he said haughtily as he rose to his feet. When he’d left the door, he smirked as the sound of outraged squawking echoed down the hall. “Job well done,” Grif said to himself, smirking as he sauntered off.
Extended Holiday Ch 67: The Eye of the Sword Act 8
“What is so hard about this?” Trixie shouted, stomping her hooves in frustration. “Most Unicorns can do this as foals!”
“I’m sorry, Trixie. I’m just … well, I’m not very good with magic, okay? I um … didn’t really get much of a chance to learn it growing up,” Vital said, blushing violently as he breathed deeply, recovering as best he could from the failed exercise attempt.
“Levitation is the most basic of basic spells.” Trixie sighed. “Trixie could perform it before she could talk.”
“It’s just hard for me, okay? The first time I consciously used any kind of magic was during the siege. And the only reason it worked was probably sheer dumb luck, or fear driving it to work harder.” Vital Spark shook his head. “Let me try again.”
“Alright then, try again,” Trixie said, rolling her eyes as she stepped back to watch.
Vital did his best to get the rocks to rise and circle around him the way Trixie had shown him earlier. He tried to imagine the Earth Benders from Avatar and how they could levitate pebbles in their hands as easily as a magnet held to metal. He pictured himself standing in the Earth Bender’s place as he saw the stones rising slowly, steadily in his mind’s eye to rest around him. His horn ignited and a light blue glow surrounded the stones, each the size of a heart as they shuddered and jerked to the air, reluctant to leave its fellows that had been mortared together in the building of the castle courtyard. Beads of sweat dripped down Vital’s face as he struggled to hold the stones in place, trying to mimic the Earth Bender in his mind.
“Come on,” Trixie encouraged. “Just as though you were clutching it in your hoof.” The instant she said that, the stones dropped and yet another exasperated groan escaped her lips.
“Sorry, Trixie,” Vital said. “I just can’t seem to get it to work right.”
“You seem to understand it. You get so close, and then you just lose it.” She sighed again. “Trixie needs a break.”
“Maybe we both do.” Vital sighed. “Sorry for being so difficult. I don’t mean to be.”
“Trixie knows you're not meaning to be,” she said with a shy smile. “Trixie obviously isn’t a good teacher.”
“You’re a great teacher, Trixie. I’m just a beginner is all. It’s … kind of hard to explain why I’m having so much trouble, but there is a reason for it, I promise. It’s not you, it’s me.”
“Trixie,” a familiar voice spoke up as Clover approached them, “could you go over and assist Silver Spear? I need to speak with Vital Spark alone.” Trixie merely nodded before trotting off.
“Am I in trouble?” Vital Spark asked. He couldn’t help himself. Failing isn’t exactly the most fun thing to experience, especially when you’re in an elite magical training program run by one of the most legendary Unicorns in all of history.
“Not trouble, really, as much as I think we two need to talk, or rather, we three,” she said the last part in a much quieter tone.
“I’m not sure if I understand,” Vital said, confused. “You mean Trixie?”
“I mean that there are two people in this conversation, but three personas.”
“Oh,” Vital said as understanding manifested. “What about?”
“About your magical schooling, or lack thereof.”
Vital Spark blushed. “I know I don’t have much. More like none, actually.” He sighed. “And honestly, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to wrap my head around all this theory. My brain can’t seem to hold on to it.”
“It seems like it.” She nodded knowingly, her mane glossy and radiant under the sun. “You have potential, but you can’t even begin to grasp it,” she said, idly tapping his horn. “That’s why you and I will be working late tonight.”
Instinctively and involuntarily, Vital Spark gulped what had to be the largest and loudest gulp he’d ever done in his life. “Um … how late exactly are we talking?”
“Tomorrow I’m going to be giving instructions on building a magical focus. By then you need at least a solid grasp on levitation. Until then, you won’t be sleeping tonight.”
“But I have to run with the soldiers tomorrow!”
“Starswirl always said sleep was a privilege best awarded to those who could earn it,” she said like a mother to her foal. “You’d better get to work.”
“But--”
“No buts,” Clover insisted.
Vital Spark sighed and rolled his eyes as Clover slowly clopped away. “I know this isn’t going to help at all, but I’m going to say it anyways.” He threw his forehooves up in the air, stood on his hind legs, looked up to the heavens and uttered a plaintive cry as old as time. “Why me?” He let go of a hollow chuckle before getting back to work. The stones were still waiting, and if he wanted any chance at sleep that night, he had little choice but to succeed. He knew Clover well enough to know she’d follow through on her discipline if he didn’t tow the line.
Fox Feather walked next to Camouflage as they entered Ponyville.
“So then, you will take care of the supplies while I will go and talk to Rarity about my uniform,” Camo said in his thick Phrench accent.
“That is correct. The shipment is currently sitting at Fort Necessity. Meet back at the entrance in an hour.”
“Very well.” Camo nodded. “Until then, I bid you adieu.” He trotted off in the direction of Carousel Boutique.
“Welcome to Carousel Botique, where every garment is chic, unique, and magnifique. How can I help you today?” Rarity asked pleasantly as the bell on her door rang.
“Bonjour, Madame Rarity,” Camo offered as he entered the shop.
“Oh, hello, Camo. It’s been awhile since I’ve seen you. What brings you to Ponyville?” she asked as she levitated some measuring tape, needle, and thread onto a storage shelf again.
“Myself and my associate were wondering if you would mind adding a few alterations to the designs of our .... uniforms.” The last word left his mouth with disgust.
“Why, if it’s an alteration you’re looking for, I’d be glad to help; positively thrilled, in fact.”
“In all honesty, we were thinking something more…. refined. Perhaps a suit or something?” he offered. “After all, our forte is much more distinguished than the rank and file.”
“And has Hammer Strike given you authorization? I’d be happy to do the work regardless if you have the funds, but if Hammer Strike doesn’t approve, then you’ll only be able to use it in a casual format. Do you understand?”
“Lord Hammer Strike will approve, I am sure. However, he has been a little preoccupied with avoiding our… visitor,” he said.
“Visitor?” Rarity asked inquisitively as she levitated her measuring tape back to her. “Stand up over there,” she instructed, motioning to the fitting platform.
He did as he was bidden. “A mare has come to visit us from Canterlot,” Spy said casually. “It seems she has certain… aims.”
“Oh? Don’t they always?” she asked as she continued to jot down measurements. “What color fabric, darling?”
“Blue for myself. My counterpart would prefer rouge.”
“Simplicity itself. Do you have his measurements?”
“They are, remarkably, the same as my own. Neither of us is quite sure why or how. We are not related, so it is very strange,” Camo noted. “No offense to yourself, mademoiselle, but sometimes I have to shake my head at how wilfully blind some mares can be.”
“And what exactly is that supposed to mean?” she asked as the tape tightened around his foreleg.
“Well, this mare seems to be turning her affections to Lord Hammer Strike,” he said. “... Does the tape need to be that tight?” he asked.
The tape snapped off of his leg with a crack. A disturbing twitch had come over her left eye. “She’s … what now?”
“My business associate, Scout, reported to apparently overhear her putting, as he said, ‘the moves’ on Lord Hammerstrike shortly before entering the room to give a report.”
“Is that so?” Rarity asked as she practically threw the measuring tape back onto its shelf in a tangled mess. “Then it seems I’m going to need to pack. Wait here, Camo. Don’t move from that spot until I get back.”
“Oh, not yet. Not for you. But it will be,” Rarity said in an eerily cheerful voice as she walked into the back rooms to pack her luggage. “Try to move in on my stallion, will you? Well, it is on.”
“... I think I may have said too much,” Camo said to himself quietly.
“Right,” Pensword said as they sat around a table in Grif’s quarters. “I now convene this emergency response team to the impending coup. Based on Grif’s and my own personal experience, the attempt is going to happen, and soon..”
“Within this week,” Grif said. “Probably at some point when when the kings are expected to all be present. They are planning overwhelming force and have likely replaced sixty percent of the palace staff with their own forces. I checked them myself.”
“They are also hoping that, thanks to the events of the Black Tips, Grif and I are on strained relations. They expect my help, since I despise the Gryphons with my my quote unquote ‘anger.’” Pensword looked to Jorund and his stomach gave yet another lurch as he struggled to keep the Gryphon and his predecessor separate in his mind. “I will be heading to the Guard Compound with my Thestrals to quell the war that will happen in there. We will leave only those loyal to the Emperor.”
“But if what you suspect is true,” Jorund noted, “how are we supposed to get the emperor out? The Imperial Guard isn’t half that large.”
“Is the Avatar still allowed his own honor guard?” Grif looked to Avalon.
“Of course. It’s tradition,” she said.
“Then I’ll take Kel’leam and half the Bladefeathers with me under the guise of an honor guard. We’ll get to the panic room and turtle down until Pensword returns with whatever he can muster. Chesire and the other half will be with Avalon at the docks.” He looked to Jorund.
“Where we’ll be getting our own ship ready for the getaway back to Equestria,” Avalon said.
“No.” Grif shook his head. “You will be preparing our airship for the emperor to make his escape to the safe house. We will be taking the Gantrithor.”
“You assume to steal the imperial flagship?” Jorund glared.
“The Gantrithor has been sabotaged. I don’t know by whom or by what means, but it won’t reach full speed. Our ship is smaller, faster, and should get the emperor out of range of both weaponry and interception parties before they know they’ve been tricked.”
“You realize that there are many ways this can go wrong?” Jorund asked.
Pensword smirked. “You do realize that a lot of things could have gone wrong during the Third Gryphon War. I think we can handle first contact with the enemy.” He chuckled. “I did take Fort Triumph, after all.”
“As soon as there is a sign of trouble, you two need to run,” Grif said as he looked to Pensword and Bellacosa. “If something happens to either of you, I could never return to Equestria. Your sister and your wife would garrott me,” he said, pointing to Cosy and Pensword respectively.
Pensword placed a wing over Cosy’s back. “Grif, you would be letting Lunar Fang have her revenge upon this entire empire.” His smile fell to a flat line. “Still, I will do my best. Cosy will be--” he paused and looked to Jorund. “Would it be possible to give Cosy an impromptu tour of the Gantrithor? I doubt he would be able to keep up when I have to fly to the Barracks.”
“I’ll arrange it for some point tomorrow,” Jorund noted. “However, it may be beneficial to get him a map, as the the ship is just over a tenth of a mile long.”
“Then I leave it to the Gryphons. I doubt any Gryphon would like giving a map of The Gantrithor to The Demon.”
“Okay, so I need to be sitting in court every day for a week,” Grif told Jorund before stopping and considering what he had just said. “Winds damnit, I need to sit in court every day for a week!”
“If it makes you feel any better, dear, you needed to brush up on your diplomacy anyways,” Avalon said as she pat her husband on the back.
Hammer Strike found himself testing the strangest of combat styles: Greatshield Hammer Style. His coat was off on one of the tables nearby, weighted down by a dagger to keep the wind from blowing it around.
Ponies and Gryphons surrounded him, breathing heavily, most having been battered by said shield.
The last Pony standing, Heavy Load, had been repeatedly charging into said shield only for him to be rebuffed by Hammer Strike with extreme force. Many of the crowd that had gathered to watch stood awed by both Hammer Strike’s power and by the heavily built Earth Pony’s seemingly unending stamina.
“Oh Hammer Strike!” a familiar feminine voice called from the edge of the arena.
Hammer turned towards the voice, giving a grin as he moved the shield once more to block the oncoming hit. “Ah, hello Rarity.” A loud clang rang out from his shield before he brought it close to him and slammed it across Heavy’s head, knocking him out.
“How are things?” He finished, slamming the shield into the ground and embedding it into the floor before leaving it to stand on its own.
“Oh, fairly well. I was just in the neighborhood and thought I’d stop by,” she said as she sidled up to him. Then, in a move that literally caused even Hammer Strike to be caught off guard, Rarity pulled his muzzle to hers, locked lips, and proceeded to kiss him passionately.
When the kiss broke, Hammer Strike blinked a few times as his brain caught up with him. “Now, I’m not complaining in the slightest, but what just happened?”
“I thought it was obvious, dear. I missed you, so I kissed you.” She smiled back at him.
“It must be mayhem with me working out here,” he chuckled.
“Only when another mare’s trying to make a move on my stallion,” she said with some aplomb.
“I don’t follow.”
“Camouflage brought to my attention that a certain lady from Canterlot has come to visit.”
“Ah, Fel Jade. She came here with a group carrying supplies due to the attempted siege that took place not that long ago.”
“And why is she still here? You didn’t really need the supplies.”
“To be honest, I have no idea.” He leaned closer to her. “And to be honest, while I would love to assist them on their return, I’d prefer not to hear from the other nobles constantly bothering me for being a poor host or something.” Hammer gave a soft sigh, placing a hoof on his head.
“Give me some time to apply a more … feminine touch, and I’ll have her out by week’s end.” Rarity smiled. “You just leave everything to me. And perhaps we can spar in between.”
Hammer gave a soft chuckle. “Certainly. Let me take your bags to where you’ll be staying,” he said, turning towards Camo, who was carrying said bags.
“Kill me,” Camo said faintly as he struggled with the weight.
“Later,” Hammer replied, taking the bags from him as Camo collapsed in a wheezing heap.
“So, Rarity,” Hammer said as he turned towards her. “Shall we?”
“Do let’s,” She said, smiling as she placed her neck against his shoulder as they walked side by side. Meanwhile, two Unicorns, one red and one blue, were casting a rather unique-looking healing spell on the fallen comrades. Each had a white cross on their flanks accenting the red and blue respectively as they laughed maniacally. A single white pigeon flew back and forth, staring at the fallen ponies as they were revived with its beady black eyes.
“Archimedes, get away from there. They’re filthy,” the Unicorns said in unison as the ponies began to stir. The rest of the troops shrugged and got back to work. Just another day in Fort Unity.
Lunar Fang paced up and down the room as she held the scroll of parchment in front of her, a pen tucked in her ear. Thankfully, now that Shawn had finished his construction on that airship dock, she had been able to move back into her quarters. Little Moon River played over in her corner as she stalked the wild rubber chew toys, pouncing gleefully as she played along. Fizz Pot watched sullenly, albeit with just a hint of curiosity as an occasional spark jumped from his stump of a horn. For some reason, that always made Moon River giggle, and a few times, Lunar Fang had even caught her hugging the changeling as the creature appeared both shocked, disgusted, and confused. There might be hope for Fizz Pot yet, If he could learn.
‘To my beloved Pensword,
Since my last letter, things have changed only slightly. The fortress is recovering well from the siege, and I am told any and all damages have been handled. The gryphons have worked tirelessly on their compound, but something seems to have stalled them, and Fox Feather saw them the other day talking quite heatedly with one of Me-Me’s hive about something.
Conor seems to be doing better. I’ve been told by Princess Luna that his dreams are of a somewhat cheerier sort and he seems far more chipper around the fort, aside from one morning where he looked as if he could fall asleep standing, but I assume that was due to Clover the Clever. She’s surprisingly military minded for a mage scholar. I sincerely hope that this is a sign for the better, and that Me-Me’s talk with him has done some good.
Your daughter continues to play with her conquest like it is the best toy she has ever received. I wait for your return so we can celebrate her first victory properly. Fel Jade has only brought up betrothal in passing since my last letter, but I fear the idea is still not off the table, nor do I believe that she will be the last. Let us hope to the moon a solution presents itself.
Lastly, it seems that Fel Jade has managed to provoke Rarity’s ire by “hitting on” Hammer Strike. She has made her way to Unity, is intent on staying, and has made a point of making their relationship a matter of public knowledge. You should have seen Fel Jade’s face. You should have seen Hammer Strike’s, or anypony’s face for that matter. It was a matter of some hysterics later that night.
I suppose this letter is running a little long, so I’ll finish it here. How goes your stay in the empire? I hope that you succeed in your coming battle, because if you don’t, I will come after you, and then I’m afraid Gryphons may end up an endangered species. Give my regards to Grif.
All my love,
Lunar Fang
She proceeded to mark an “f” on the page corner and circle it. Then, as Pensword had taught her, she dipped a second pen in lemon juice and proceeded to mark a separate message for his eyes only on the other end of the scroll. She carefully let it dry before getting the proper implements to seal the scroll.
Moon River tugged her mother’s tail to grab her attention and smiled as she triumphantly waved a paper covered in squiggles and lines of various colors, letting out a cheerful spurt of bubbles and raspberries.
“Is that for daddy?” Lunar Fang asked as she picked up the picture.
Moon River clapped her hooves and kept smiling. “Da. Da.”
“Okay.” She laughed as she placed the drawing inside the scroll and sealed it.
Moon River squealed with delight as the scroll went up in a blue flame and flew out the window.
Pensword paused as he eyed the target, tomahawk at the ready. He took a deep breath as he prepared himself for the exercise to come. With a sudden yell, he spun, sending the blade down range and burying right in the middle of the target. At same time, he yanked another of the blades from a post next to him and carried through a second attack, hitting a Gryphon dummy in the chest cavity, where the heart would be. He used his wing to throw another of his Thestral Tomahawks and buried it at the “enemy’s” forehead. In total, the exercise had taken just a little under a minute to execute. He snorted and twitched an ear in frustration. “Too slow,” he growled, walking down the range. “I know that is good for a Pegasus, but a Thestral warrior could have done that in less than thirty seconds.
As he moved to the first tomahawk his mind wandered back, back to a happier time long, long ago. He could almost feel the sun on his face in the mountain air as his mother sat him up against the wall of their little house. The backyard had been turned into a range and she snorted as she placed a post into a pre-dug hole. After securing the makeshift pillar in place, she jammed four Tomahawks into it. She picked one up from the ground with a hoof and took a calming breath before yelling a series of clicks and chirps as she sent it whirling down range while taking another from its resting place in the post. She sent it after its brother, causing it to collide with a crude likeness of a Gryphon. Soon after, a Unicorn received another Tomahawk, slicing its “horn” off at its base. She took the last two tomahawks into each of her clawed wings and attacked the final target, another Thestral dummy. She cut both wings off and rapidly flipped over it, burying the blades in the back of the head and neck.
Moonbeam looked up to smile at her son, but her expression froze. Pensword smiled as he recalled that expression of shock on her face. While she had been busy working on her finishing blow, he had decided he wanted to do what his mother was doing. He got off the wall where he had been leaning and walked over to an old, blunted tomahawk reserved for practice duels. He stood up on his hind legs and reached down with a wing to pick it up. He fumbled once or twice, but eventually he figured out how to hold it properly, and he stood proudly with his wing above his head. He swung the tomahawk flimsily a few times, his expression serious like his mother’s as he pretended to cut the bad guys.
“Pensword?” Moonbeam asked, shocked. There Pensword was, swinging a tomahawk around with a wing that had scientifically been proven not to be capable of holding any form of weaponry. And yet he was swinging it around, trying to mimic his mother. She smiled and raced forward to hug him as she lifted him up. “My little Warrior. My dear little Pensword. Are you trying to be like mommy?”
Pensword grinned in response, the tomahawk still held aloft in his wing’s grip.
From around the corner, Iron Pen walked to see the situation and blinked in confusion. “But--How...? Dear, are you trying to make our son think he can hold things with--” Pensword remembered jumping down from his mother’s embrace, tomahawk still in wing as he approached his dumbstruck father. “Da, da.” He giggled. “I am like Mommy.”
Pensword chuckled at the memory as he hammered the tomahawk into the post. “Those were good times.” He looked to his side. “Okay, Mom, tell me when and time me again.” He nodded his head as if responding to an answer. He steeled himself. “Ready,” he said. A second later he charged forward. He finished the set, this time in fifty seconds. He snorted as he heard the sound of a door opening down one of the hallways. “Mom, if Twilight Sparkle wishes, can she test me about this magic?” He paused. “My choice? Well, I guess I will see what she does if she ever sees me do this.” He picked up the Tomahawk with a hoof. He smirked as Grif entered the room. A second later the Tomahawk quivered from the wooden beam near the raven’s head.
“Not bad.” Grif grinned. “Been keeping your skill up, huh?”
“You think I would let this part of my heritage slack? I have been practicing, usually at night or away from the others. Traditionally speaking, only those of the tribe or family members are allowed to see a Thestral practice this art of war. This is a Thestral Axe. Matthew calls it a tomahawk. Still, thank you for trusting me. Any hot-blooded Thestral can throw this at an enemy. A true warrior can control and guide the blade to the desired destination.” He flapped his wings to get up to the Thestral Axe handle. “Funny how I can seem to always hit what I am aiming for.”
“It’s all in the head,” Grif said, “at least if it’s anything like these.” He ran his talons across his throwing blades. “You need to be able to predict the spin before making the throw, right?”
“Yes, but I still cannot seem to get a handle on throwing blades themselves,” he muttered. “Let me try those blades again. Last time we did it, I couldn’t hit a bullseye so much as a foot away.”
Grif offered a knife. “Dunno if you ever used one of mine before. They’re weighted, so they spin faster.”
Pensword took a breath to calm his nerves and steady his breathing. He cradled the blade, testing its heft in his hooves for the difference in heft and weight. Then, without warning, his foreleg flickered, sending the blade flying across the room. The dagger hit the target with the broad side of the blade, smacking the target before it fell harmlessly to the ground. The room was silent as the two friends looked at each other. “Well. Uh, did I do anything wrong?” he asked nervously.
“You thought too much,” Grif said, shaking his head. “Picture it; don’t think about it,” he said as he handed over another dagger.
“Right.” Pensword took the blade and threw it again at the target. This time the narrow side of the blade hit it, rather than the flat, leaving a slight cut on the fabric.
“Don’t think about it,” Grif repeated, offering a pair of daggers. “Experiment a little. Try one with a wing and the other with a hoof. Maybe the one will be better than the other.
Pensword grunted as he took the blades and cleared his mind. The rest of the room faded away. All he could see, all he could feel, were the blades in his grasp and the target in the distance. At the moment he felt most calm, he threw with all his might.
The two blades collided midair, clattering to the ground. Pensword’s left eye twitched. He sighed and sent one by wing only, having once again cleared his mind. It hit the target by the back end. The closest he had ever gotten to hitting the target with the throwing blade.
“You’re getting there,” Grif encouraged. “Your problem is that you are approaching this like it’s strategy. Strategy is great in the tent, but you're fighting your instinct when you need it most.”
“I am? How am I fighting my instinct?” Pensword asked, perplexed.
Grif pulled a blade and threw it. There was no stopping, no breathing, just a single motion. He smacked the target dead center before proffering another blade to his friend.
Pensword took the throwing blade and added his own flair, spun around and lunged. This time, an angry “thock” echoed through the quiet room. The blade had landed, but not in the target. Pensword had successfully nailed the stuffed Gryphon in its throat.
“Now you’ve got it.” Grif smiled “Now why don’t you run through your tomahawk routine again? And remember, instinct.” Grif grinned, stepping back.
Pensword sighed as he set up his weapons again. Once more, he took his battle stance, calming his mind. Without warning, he went into a flurry of motion as tomahawks landed left and right, nailing their targets. When he’d finished, Pensword sat on the back of the last Gryphon dummy, its left wing torn off in his hoof, the Tomahawk embedded at the base of its neck. He snorted as he got to the ground again, his eyes a little wide. “Mom…” he whispered. “My mother’s routine.” He snapped his head to the left. “Time?” he asked, not expecting the dual echo of voices as both Grif and his Moonbeam’s ghost spoke simultaneously..
“32 seconds,” Grif said. “Not bad for a Pegasus-Threstral hybrid,” he laughed.
“I need to get this down to thirty seconds,” Pensword replied.
“For now, you should be happy,” Grif told him. “If you put all your time into one weapon, you become too easy to counter.”
“Yes,” Pensword responded, “I know. You should see me with my other weapons. I can take out those five Gryphons in twenty seconds by wing blade, thirty seconds by a Pegasus sword, and I can fire with my modified bow averaging ten shafts a minute.
“Then take a break already,” Grif pressed. “You can’t afford to be too tired to fight right now.”
Pensword nodded his head, still panting. “Very well. I wonder if Cosy would like to have a little group dinner tonight.”
Cadence smiled as the scroll materialized in front of her with a flash of green fire, letting loose a sigh of relief.
“It’s about time, Cosy. Don’t worry your big sister so much.” Taking the scroll in her magic, she broke the seal and slowly unrolled the parchment, anxious for the reassuring news she know had to be there. She hungrily scanned the letter. Then she was silent. The only sound was her magic in action and the slight hum of the crystal heart as it sent love energy throughout Equestria. Below the throne room, the crystal heart throbbed, then pulsed, unnerving more than a few of the crystal ponies who had come to admire it, as well as the guards posted to protect it.
Then Cadence screamed.
The Crystal empire still shook, resounding from the shriek that had emanated from the Crystal Palace throne room. Many a crystal pony’s ears still rang with the resonance of their crystal coats. The mighty “WHAT?” still echoed and redoubled back from the mountain tops as the aurora cast out from the crystal heart violently increased.
“Cadence, what’s wrong?” Shining Armor shouted as he charged through the door, a large spear levitated in his magic.
“You. Read. Now,” Cadence instructed as she shoved the scroll into her husband’s face before she began pacing around the room. “What are they thinking? They should be on their way back now, not staying put. This isn’t a field trip!” Cadence waved her hooves in the air frantically as she paced around, uttering a string of profanities that made even her husband pale.
“I’ll read it. Deep breaths, Cadence. It can’t possibly be that bad,” Shining said as he rubbed her back gently with his hoof. He picked up the letter and read.
Dear Cady,
How’s things doing back in the empire? Things are pretty good out here. We had a few run-ins with black tips and troops, and most of the Gryphons weren’t very nice, but then we met the Farflyer clan and Grif got married. Can you believe it? We stayed there for a few weeks cause Grif used up all his energy protecting me, but we’re fine now. The Farflyers helped.
We arrived at the Imperial City a few days ago and settled in at The Monastery of Winds. Nobody can kill there, so we’re safe. I’m sitting waiting to meet with Daedalus now. I’m a little nervous, but if I could stand up to a crowd of Gryphons in a museum, I think I can stand in front of an emperor. By the way, I got a surprise to show you when I get back home. You’re both gonna be so proud. I kindof wish Mom could be there, too, but I’m doing okay. Pensword and Grif helped me through my tantrum and now everything’s fine.
Cady, you remember when Mom was talking about arranged marriages and contracts? Well, this is a secret, so don’t tell anyone, but some bad people are trying to get Moon River to marry their kids. I don’t know what that means if it happens, but it doesn’t sound good, so I want to help. Do you think you can start pulling the papers together for a proposal? I wanna talk specifics when we get home.
I hear some guards coming. It sounds like it’ll be our turn soon. I’ll write again after we talk battle strategy with Daedalus. There’s something called a coup about to happen. Uncle Pensword says it’s like what happened to us when the crystal heart was taken. If somepony’s planning something like that, I can’t just sit and let it go. I won’t let Daedalus lose his home like we did ours. We’ve already got an escape ship, so we’ll be fine. It’s fast and roomy, so we can carry everyone we need out. And Pensword and Grif have been teaching me how to fight, so if things get really bad, I’ll be able to defend myself. With that and Uncle Shining’s training, I’ll do just fine. See you soon, big sis. Hopefully in a few weeks.
Love You,
Cosey.
P.S. Don’t worry. I’ll be fine.
“....Wha?” Shining Armor’s brain took some time to attempt to process what he’d just read.
“We have to do something. Call the generals. Summon the legions. Cosy’s in danger!”
“Cadence, we can’t go to war,” Shining said, somewhat fearfully. “As it is, we only have a handful of trained volunteers.”
“Then, what, dear, would you suggest?” Cadence asked, her eyes flinty.
“Send a letter to your Aunts?” Shining asked. “Perhaps Luna can order Pensword back.”
Cadence sighed. “You really don’t know Aunt Luna, do you?” She collapsed into her throne’s cushions and laid a hoof over her head. “Even with the best guards on the planet, my little brother still manages to get into trouble. I don’t know how much more I can take it.”
“We’ll figure it out, Cadence, I promise,” Shining said as he approached and took her in his hooves. “Don’t worry. He’ll be safe.”
“I hope you’re right, Shining. I hope you’re right,” Cadence said as she leaned into her husband’s embrace.
Hammer Strike sat alone in his office, his coat folded next to his vest while his dress shirt hung on one of his hooves, a needle and thread in the other as he worked on patching up said garment. While his coat seemed to take a lot of punishment without issue, the other parts of his outfit did not.
He sighed to himself as he continued his work, listening to the hoofsteps that traveled around New Unity. Down the hallway, past his door, around the corner, yet another set of hooves walked in the direction of his door before stopping in front.
“No need to knock,” he called out like he usually did.
“I know,” Rarity said as she opened the door. “I just wanted to be--when did you learn to sew?” she asked, surprised as she watched the well-practiced hooves deftly maneuver the needle.
Hammer hummed in response before answering. “A long time now. Since before I arrived, actually. I made the first variant of my current clothing. How else would my outfit still be in good shape?”
“The one you arrived in, or the subsequent designs?” Rarity asked.
“The one I arrived in.”
“I don’t know. I just thought you performed proper maintenance and that any problems you had you’d bring to me. I am the greatest fashion designer in all of Ponyville, after all.”
Hammer Strike hit her with his famous flat stare.
“What’s that for?” Rarity exclaimed.
Hammer gave a brief chuckle. “You’re also the only one in Ponyville.”
“Yes … well, assuming all goes well, it won’t be just Ponyville anymore.”
“Thoughts on expanding your business?”
“I’m waiting for the right location to open up. Once it does, I intend to open a new branch of Carousel Boutique. I simply can’t wait till it happens.” She smiled dreamily as visions of lords and ladies of Canterlot coming to buy her dresses and gowns filled her head. “It will be positively amazing. With only one thing better.”
Hammer hummed in question.
She walked up and pecked him on the cheek. “You, of course.” Then she giggled. “Oh, poor Lotus. Do you remember how many files she had to go through just to get your hooves done?”
“I should have warned them that it would be a bit tough for certain tasks.” He gave a light laugh.
“Especially Bulk Biceps. Did you actually feel anything when he tried that deep tissue massage?”
“Faintly, so I’ll give him that.”
“At least he didn’t have to punch you. He acts big and tough, but he’s really just a big old sweetie on the inside.”
“He seems like a decent stallion. But how is everyone treating you so far?”
“Oh just fine, of course. Why wouldn’t they? I got to know most of the troops rather well when they came for their fittings. Though Camo is a newer addition, I believe. We only got to meet briefly that first time I came.”
“Him and seventeen others: a mercenary group with unique skills.”
“Interesting. Oh, by the way, dearie, while I was here, I was wondering, might I be able to borrow one of your rapiers for a while?”
“I should have a few spares made on the side.” He nodded towards a side door in the room. “Not many in that room, but I keep plenty of equipment in there for testing or practice.”
“Excellent.” Rarity smiled as she opened the door. The blue flash of her horn indicated her use of magic as she tested the heft and weight of various blades until she came out about five minutes later bearing a simple flat rapier with a circular guard to protect the hoof of its user. “I thought I’d give Fel Jade some lessons while she’s here. A little gift to show there’s no hard feelings over her ‘mistake.’” She smiled malevolently.
“I just love how mischievous you can be.”
“Why, darling, I’m only just getting started,” she said with a twinkle in her eyes. “Perhaps we can have some fun together? I’d love to help Fel Jade ‘remember’ some urgent appointments at Canterlot,” she said, winking. “With your help the game will be so much more interesting.”
“I like the sound of that.”
Cosey sat fidgeting on his seat next to Grif as Gryphon after Gryphon filed in with their complaints or requests, and the occasional demand. Daedalus listened to each intently, weighing the options well before making a decision. Some he granted, some he forestalled, and others he denied. The young crystal prince also took note of the way in which, Daedalus was able to deal with his opponents. The mask the emperor wore was as cold and aloof as the stone of the mountain fortress they now stood within. It seemed that keeping a neutral expression was a key to successful rule.
Cosey leaned to his side. “How much longer do you think we have?” he whispered under the pretence of childish curiosity, his eyes wide as he pointed to some of the stonework in the room and the warriors that had been gathered.
“Deep breath, and concentrate,” Grif whispered almost inaudibly back. “Feel it in your soul: the hairs on your neck starting to prickle. When you feel them stand on end with the ice in the room, let your senses answer your question,” Grif finished before turning up his voice with a snapping cruelty. “It will end when it ends! Young ones should be seen and not heard,” he snapped.
Pensword’s left ear twitched. He did not move his eyes, but his gaze had turned nearly as stony as Daedalus’, yet his eyes reflected the predatory glare of a judging sphinx, ready to descend upon any who might rouse his ire. He watched every moment, gauged every action, his only movement a small twitch of his mouth to a grim smile at the fear of the gathered Gryphons. His tail flicked in annoyance, but that was all he “betrayed” to their foes.
Grif’s eyes scanned the room, catching the brief flickers of movement as servants and guards seemed to change places: certain ones being replaced, others being reinforced. More Gryphons entered the room over the course of an hour, some heavily armored, others bearing obvious war weaponry. He looked ahead to the booth that had been erected in the great meeting hall, where the five kings sat. Aside from the three he recognised, who each made a minute nod in his direction, two others shifted their eyes in confusion. One was a goshawk with a snow leopard's body. The other, surprisingly, was a bluejay with the body of a large white lion. Already, they seemed to be calling for their guards and whispering in panicked tones.
“Ifay ouyay etgay the ancechay, ytray and etgay osethay wotay outay ithway ouyay,” Grif spoke in a low tone to Pensword. Bellacosa looked on, confused.
Pensword gave a quiet nod as he went to high alert. Something was about to happen. He was prepared, whether it be a full blown melee or simple indigestion.
“Now,” Grif shouted, just as a hail of arrows rained down from the roof of the throne room. The aim was spot on, the accuracy sure, and all were ready, sure to skewer the young emperor where he stood--had not a heavy gust of wind filled the chamber, knocking the shafts in several directions, all away from Daedalus. In seconds the emperor's guard surrounded him in a heavy phalanx, the red shields of the male guard interlocking in several clicking motions. Slots opened in the shields as the female guard drew their bows.
Pensword spun around as two arrows hit his back, only to strike off with a bell-like tone. With an angry flourish, he removed his cloak to reveal his full battle armor, his eyes blazing. Turning to face his adversaries, he roared, “I will soak my wings with the blood of those who dare to attack this court!”
“Bladefeathers, go!” Grif yelled to his guard as the Gryphons drew their weapons. Several bows shot into the ceiling before the snipers could reload their own. “Daedalus, get to the safe room. We’ll keep you covered,” Grif shouted as he drew his family’s famous black bow and started firing. He looked to pensword. “Time to make your exit.”
Pensword nodded his head as he charged forward, wing blades glinting in the mid-day light after swiftly donning them for battle. He roared as he pushed through a doorway, Cosy in tow, leaving two dead guards behind him, as though he were abandoning the court.
“Where are we going?” Cosy shouted as they raced down the hall, his heart racing. The bracelet that had attached itself to his leg pulsed a multitude of colors as they ran.
“Cosey! You were supposed--” Pensword sighed. “We are heading to the Royal Barracks. At this moment, there will be a divide between those loyal to the emperor, those who go the way the wind blows, and those who have placed their loyalty to the kings.” He narrowed his eyes as he pushed forward. “We need to make sure that Daedalus has his reinforcements.”
“Then let’s do it,” Cosy said as his horn glowed. “I’m ready.”
“Your majesty, the passage has been compromised. We have to fall back on secondary measures,” Brunhilda said, her liger body practically glowing with a sheen of sweat as she fired yet another bolt into the crowd. Her raven eyes flashed as she braced against the onslaught that pushed against their barrier. A concentrated blast of wind from Grif granted a brief respite as the attacking force retreated, being flanked on either end by Grif’s honor guard.
Daedalus nodded grimly as he nicked a talon and ran it over the right head of the throne. “By rights of my line, I call for sanctuary against the coming storm. For order, for honor, for my people,” he recited. The four lapis lazuli eyes glowed, casting a pattern of starlight across the room while the ruby mounted to the top of the throne glowed with the power of his line, firing into the wall behind. With the crack of shifting stone, a shower of ancient dust descended as the wall slowly creaked inwards on rusted hinges. A shriek of chagrin echoed through the throne room as Grask watched the magic unfold.
“You’re all coming, too,” Daedalus insisted. “I’m not leaving you behind.”
“Yes, but you first. You’re what this is all about. You have to get to safety. Now move!”
“Go. We’ll cover you,” Grif told brunhilda as he deflected an arrow with his blades, his quiver expended. Throwing blades flew with an idle flick of his wrist like death darts, but even they were running low. The sheer numbers of the force against them was far more massive than he had anticipated.
Daedalus took one last look back at the battle and the violence before racing through the door. His guards made a slow and calculated retreat, careful to circle the way to prevent any other Gryphons from breaking through.
Grif and Kel’leam stayed behind as the Bladefeathers filtered into the safety room. Grif’s reflexes and Kel’leam’s greatshield kept the worst of the assault off them as they backed towards the entrance. “How’re you holding up, Kel’leam?”
“Well, considering you can actually see me for once, I’d say I’m in pretty high spirits. You up for a little wager, Grif?” he asked as he casually smacked another attacker senseless before casually decapitating the attacker to his left.
“Kel’leam, we are in the middle of a battlefield trying to get the emporer of a nation to safety and you ask that?” Grif replied before grinning. “What did you have in mind?”
“If I get the most kills, you pay for a new shield. If you get the most kills, I’ll replace all the gear you lost today. Deal?”
“Really? I thought you had a challenge for me.” Grif laughed, using his wings to do a three hundred and sixty degree vertical flip, bisecting attackers on either side.
“Well, what would you suggest?” Kel’leam asked as he parried yet another blow with his shield before skewering two gryphons through their necks.
“You win, you get a new shield and a matching set of armor. I win, and you are watching the crusaders for a month.” Grif laughed as he impaled an enemy on his left blade before spinning around and impaling another attacker with a stiletto. Afterwards, he turned to retrieve his sword from the enemy’s chest while simultaneously freeing another of his head.
“You know, my mother always said I was good with kids. You’ve got yourself a deal, Grif.” Kel’leam chuckled as he proceeded to take a gryphon’s sword, reverse it, and cleave its owner’s head. “Been awhile since I fought some real competition before,” Kel’leam continued to jibe as the pair slowly drew back towards the stone door.
“Kel’leam, let’s go,” Grif said seriously. “There’ll be more fighting before this is done,” he promised as he backed to the alcove. The doors into the throne room were literally swarming with hordes of armed gryphons. “Run!” Grif shouted.
The duo raced toward the door, a hail of arrows and spears flying behind them as Kel’leam did what he did best. He laughed, even as his arm began to shake. “Get in, Grif,” Kel’leam said, “I’ll be right behind you.”
Grif slipped into the room before turning to kel’leam “Come on, move it!”.
As Kel’leam was about to step inside, his shield arm lowered just a fraction of an inch. He smiled at his family, glad to know they were all safe. Then came the flash of motion, the clang of steel on steel, and lastly, that sense of absolute shock as his left side went momentarily numb and all sound dulled to a faint roar in his ears. He couldn’t believe it as he heard the dull clatter of his shield on the stone floor.
Far in the back of the crowd, Grask Bloodbeak roared in triumph. “Die, you worthless mongrel!”
Kel’leam coughed once, then twice as blood spattered his white feathers. He felt his knees buckle as the air rushed through his feathers like he was flying. Perhaps he was. Were The Winds calling him home at last? Was this his time? The questions would bother him no more as the darkness took him.
“Kel’leam!” Grif roared as he charged to the larger Gryphon’s side. The wind whipped erratically as he tried to take Kel’leam’s weight and drag him towards the safe room. Finally, he resorted to using Kel’leam’s shield to drag his friend forward. The enemy arrows and charges were bashed away by tempestuous gusts, redirecting the projectiles back on the enemy with extreme prejudice. Finally, Grif managed to haul Kel’leam across the door’s threshold as the emergency door closed with a loud and definite thud. A green light traced a line along the edge of the door’s frame before it became one with the wall once again..
“... We’ll be safe in here for now. At least until help can arrive,” Daedalus said. “Only the royal line can open the passage, and thanks to Grask, I’m the only one left. He’s outsmarted himself.”
“Shut up, Daedalus,” Grif snarled before turning to his friend. “Speak to me, Kel’leam, come on. We’ll get you patched up,” he said, trying his best to wake his friend without causing further damage.
“Stand aside, Avatar. Your wind magic is strong, but he needs a medic’s touch,” Brunhilda said as she muscled her way through the tightly ringed group. “Let me examine him.”
Griff moved aside only enough to let her work, holding Kel’leams spear hand in his own. “Come on, Kel’leam, wake up.”
“Help me remove his armor. We need to cut the straps without disturbing the body,” she said clinically.
“Tell me where to cut,” Grif said, grabbing one of his stilettos.
“Can you keep your arms steady in this state, Grif?” Brunhilda asked.
Grif’s words caught in his beak before he sighed “I don’t know,” he admitted. “Just save him!” he said, handing her the knife.
“You know I can’t promise you that. But I will do my best with what I have.” With that said, she carefully began to saw at the armor straps, gently running the stiletto back and forth across the leather. The pace was agonizingly slow, but she eventually managed to work through the first strap. The second was far easier since it was located at the lower end of Kel’leam’s body.
By this point, blood had pooled inside the shield, and as she flipped open the massive chestplate of Kel’leam’s armor, a slick red sheen had covered the front plate. The lower portion of the shaft had absorbed a great deal of the ichor that was coagulating at the site. The blood trickled slowly from the wound as the eagle feathers on the fletchings glinted in the dim light, their white and gold flecked with crimson. Its long ash shaft was stained cherry as a darker almost brown color slowly seeped up from the wound. Feathers and fur clung to each other in matted clumps as Brunhilda viewed the wound with a professional eye.
“Grask got off a lucky shot,” she said, “unfortunately for your friend. The arrow’s pierced very deep. If I remove it, the bleeding will only increase. And based on the angle of impact ...”
“Does he have a chance?”
“Not if we don’t get him some proper help soon,” she said, sighing. “To try to do anything here will only shorten his life.”
“Kel’leam? Come on, wake up, buddy,” Grif said as tears formed in his eyes. “Is there anything you can do for him?”
“His body is defending itself. I don’t have the tools necessary to deal with shock. Either he wakes up on his own, or he won’t wake up at all. The most we can do is try to keep him comfortable, unless someone here has a healing potion handy. To wake him now would just cause him more pain, and likely disorientation. He could do greater damage to himself.”
“How long does he have?”
“Only The Winds know.” Brunhilda shook her head. “I’m sorry.”
Grif’s eyes lit up as he looked to Daedalus. “Open it,” he growled. His voice was far darker than it had been a moment ago. The slow, grating sound of him drawing his swords echoed through the room.
“I’m sorry, Grif,” Daedalus said. “I want to kill them too, but not even you can stand against that many warriors at once. If I open that door before our reinforcements arrive, there’s no guarantee that I’ll be able to seal it again.”
“You’ll have the throne room in a minute.” Hatred, bloodlust, and rage almost seemed to literally drop from Grif’s voice as he approached the door. The gryphons could swear the wind around the avatar was tinged with black as it swirled and eddied.
A ragged cough stopped the hate-filled warrior in his advance as it cut him to his core, followed by a groan of pain. “Grif.”
In an instant, the shadows were gone. The swords clashed to the floor as Grif rushed to Kel’leam’s side. “Kel’leam! Don’t worry, buddy, everything’s going to be okay.”
Kel’leam chuckled, then winced again, taking shallow breaths. “I … guess you won the bet. Huh, Grif?” he said, smiling midst the sweat that was rapidly beading his brow.
“Fight’s not over yet,” Grif said, smiling half heartedly. “We’ll get you patched up and you’ll be out there killing them again in no time.”
“Sure, sir. Whatever you say. Just as long as I can earn my keep, right?” Kel’leam smiled a tired smile as he looked to the Emperor. “I’m glad you’re safe, your majesty.”
“Kel’leam …” Daedalus said.
“Hey, no crying now. Nobody cries over me,” he said as he sighed, still smiling. A slight gurgle could be heard coming from his throat.
Grif did nothing to hold back his tears. “You’re wrong, Kel’leam,” he said. “You're so wrong.”
“I’d laugh if it didn’t hurt so much,” Kel’leam said with an ironic smile. “Figures that it’d take an arrow in my side to get you all to notice me for once.”
“You deserved so much more from me, Kel’leam,” Grif said. “I didn’t deserve your loyalty.”
“And neither did I.” Daedalus shook his head, ashamed. “All of this. Everything. Because of stupid traditions!” Daedalus smashed the floor with a fist. “Winds Damnit!” Daedalus moved to punch again, only to feel a strong grip hold him back. Brunhilda shook her head gently.
“Brunhilda … thank you,” Kel’leam said as he smiled at the young emperor. “He’s a good ruler. He’ll make a difference some day. I want that. For the next generation.” A racking cough came over Kel’leam suddenly as his face went pale. Flecks of blood flew from his beak to fall into his uninjured hand. His eyes widened as his pupils dilated.
“Stay with us, Kel’leam. You’re not done yet,” Brunhilda growled as she ran a talon over his ribcage.
“Kel’leam, stay with me,” Grif said, supporting the albatross head in his talons. “You’re too strong for a little sliver like that to kill you.”
“It’s … strange, Grif,” Kel’leam said as the bout of pain subsided and he adjusted to the sensation. “I feel … so free now. I always ... used to be so reserved.” He rasped in pain. … Now of all times, I finally get to relax and let go. If Chesh could only see me now.”
Brunhilda looked gravely at Grif. “His lung has been punctured by the arrow head. Unless we create a proper outlet, he’ll breathe himself to death.”
“What do we do?” Grif asked her.
“I’ll need the finest pointed blade possible, the strongest alcohol a Gryphon can spare, and something to insert to act as an outlet for the pressure, like a governor or funnel of some sort. Very small.”
“This stiletto was made by hammerstrike,” Grif said as he offered it to her. “I don’t know about the others. Daedalus, see if there’s anything in my pack that can help.”
There was no alcohol to be had, so Brunhilda had to make do without. A coffee straw had been found at the bottom of Grif’s bag, an ancient relic left behind from his time at Donut Joe’s, but for the moment, it would work. A few minutes later, Kel’leam was breathing normally again, at least as normally as he could under the circumstances.
Pensword raced down another turn with Cosy at his side. The prince looked to his “uncle” and the strap of leather that he wore, which held six tomahawks, ready for use. Pensword snorted at how stubborn Cosy was in refusing at least three hiding holes to help protect the rear. He didn’t know if he should be proud at his refusal or annoyed at how easily he saw through his ploys at trying to keep him safe and out of harm's way. As the pair drew closer to the Royal Barracks, they could hear the sound of battle already ringing through the corridor. They burst through the doors to behold a scene of chaos.
The room was large and circular. Ruined training equipment was thrown all over the room on the walls and hanging from the ceiling. On one side, a large group of young Gryphons of various mixes stood opposing another slightly larger group. Amongst the younger ones were two greying falcon-headed Gryphons shouting encouragingly and fighting with more obvious skill. Still, the battle was furious and it looked like both sides would be decimated if something didn’t happen soon.
Pensword was shocked at how none of them noticed his loud entrance. He pondered how best to break things up when Matthew stepped in to briefly take over as he put his hoof to his lips and inhaled as heavily as he could manage. Then he let loose a mighty, shrill whistle, shattering three windows in the process as he incorporated the Canterlot Royal voice into the whistle. Without a moment's pause, Thestrals poured into the hall from the remaining windows. Thankfully, the Gryphons were smart enough to recognize a potential threat, stop the fighting, and take a few steps back. the Thestrals were quick to take advantage of this brief retreat of sorts and moved swiftly to occupy the darkened corners of the room. As they darted through the sunlight, it gleamed off their dark blue armor and their glowing eyes, slitted from previous exposure to the sun, gave off a very haunting image.
“Can some Gryphon tell me just what in the halls of Tartarus is going on here?” Pensword coolly demanded, his eyes already picking over the crowd for the leaders in both factions.
“Don’t be afraid,” one of the falcons said, rallying the troops around him. “The north wind supports us. We fight for the emperor!” He looked at the Thestrals. “No matter who our opponent is.”
Pensword turned to the other half. “So, half of the room has spoken, what do you lot have to say? I see you wear emblems that do not match those on my left.” He stepped fully into room, exposing himself to the sunlight. Cosy hung back at the door as per his guardian’s instructions, his body tense and ready to fight or to run if necessary. A single mop hung suspended in the air threateningly as Cosy waved it around, doing his best to distract the Gryphons from the weapon he held belted around his waist.
“The emperor is weak,” one of the Gryphons shouted. “All hail grask!” This was echoed by the rest.
Pensword turned to face the spokesman and his party. His grim face broke into a sinister grin as the light glistened off his fangs. “Thank you for your honesty.” He snorted as the musical sound of blowpipes filled the air. jMoments later, several Gryphons had darts sticking out from their necks and chinks in their armor. “It makes my actions much easier. The Demon stands in defense of the Emperor. Yes, the one who you have turned your back on has the respect of The Demon.”
“For Grask!” the defectors shouted. They moved to charge as several of them dropped to the ground, gurgling. Those closest to them stopped momentarily in fear as the peril of the situation dawned on them. Too late, the gap in the charge was too big an opening for the loyalists to miss and they tore through the charging Gryphons like tissue paper.
The Thestrals charged from the side and behind in a pincer maneuver. Six of the opposing forces managed to break through and charged, not for Pensword, but for Cosy. Time slowed for Pensword as he snapped back to his past, to the training he had seen his mother perform. He drew a tomahawk from his bandolier and threw it. The first Gryphon was down in an instant, the tomahawk seemingly growing out of its skull. By the time the attackers registered that something was wrong, another had fallen. A third fell by the time that they could located the source of the counterattack. Too committed to stop, they veered, redirecting the course of their charge as the fourth fell to the ground. The last two charged forward, battle cries raging.
Pensword stood calmly. Instead of throwing his last two Tomahawks, he charged forward, then ducked to the left, where his first victim waited. The gryphon’s wings were unprotected, most likely due to overconfidence about the coup. The Demon smirked. This Gryphon’s arrogance would be his downfall. A shower of blood signalled the severance of the first wing as The Demon leaped over the crying Gryphon’s back and buried the first tomahawk deep in the gap where neck armor met back armor. He kicked up from the body and spun around, slamming the Sixth Gryphon on the beak before bringing the Tomahawk down on his helmeted head, concussing the Gryphon before performing a swift reversal and chopping the back of the traitor’s neck. The warrior slumped to the ground, dead.
Pensword spread his wings threateningly at the next group of Gryphons who were trying to break away to attack him, his fangs bared as a rather poor excuse of a hiss escaped his muzzle. A flicker of motion in the corner of his eye alerted him. With little else to do, he charged forward. He heard the clang of blade striking metal and felt the impact of the blade on his armor. The enemy was wide open. With a smirk, he turned around and slammed his front hooves into the attacking Gryphon, using his wings to take to the air. He snorted and head butted the enemy Gryphon, confident in Hammer Strike’s smithing skills. That confidence was not misplaced as the Gryphon’s head swayed from the impact.
Pensword continued his course over his attacker’s head and bucked the back of the Gryphon. He heard the satisfying crunch of one wing snapping before he spun and dealt a killing blow with a wingblade, cutting a major artery in the Gryphon's leg. One of the traitorous recruits moved swiftly to stop the bleeding. Pensword acted without mercy and the recruit and warrior both crumbled. Flying to the ceiling, Pensword stared down on the battlefield, gaging the best place to attack next.
Cosy stared in wide-eyed shock at the speed and ferocity displayed. He’d heard rumors of Thestral combat, but never before had he truly seen those skills put into action. Now he had.
Pensword did not get another chance to attack. The few who were left that supported Grask were torn apart in seconds. With the fighting over, Pensword, landed into the middle of the room before he stiffened, shifting into a defensive stance as one of the Falcon officers approached. He did a quick count. If the Gryphons were to attack, he could inflict heavy casualties, but it would most likely destroy his entire Thestral unit.
The gryphon shuffled over. His feathers were stained with blood, but the wound on his leg didn’t seem serious. “You fight for daedalus?” he asked warily.
“I said that in the beginning, or were your ears ringing from a blow to the head? Unlike those snakes over there,” he said, motioning with a hoof to the dead, “when I state a cause I fight for, I do not cross sides mid flight.”
The falcon nodded as if satisfied. “We managed to keep the armory secured. Give us time and we’ll be ready to help you.”
“I thank you, but Daedalus needs soldiers past tonight. What use would you be if you are banished for listening to The Demon? I do keep up with what you think of me in this land. I do not need martyrs. What I need are soldiers who can stand by to protect their emperor.”
“I don’t plan on listening to you,” the gryphon said. “But if we can’t fight together, Daedalus won’t live another day.”
“Right, a smart Falcon. Very well, take ten of my Thestrals. They will inform you of the chokepoints and what is held by whom. Move smartly. I myself will require a cloak, and a means of sneaking out undetected. I must secure the docks.”
“I’ll see to it.” The falcon said before he shuffled away. Several minutes later, six cloaked recruits came to pensword, carrying a slightly larger black cloak. “We’re to accompany you to the docks.”
Pensword’s left ear twitched. He noticed they also had another cloak.
“For the little one,” the bearer explained, pointing to Cosy.
As much as he still held hate for Gryphons, he couldn’t help but smile at their foresight. He looked at the company. “So, you are to accompany me? Why? I am the Demon, after all. I think I can get to the Docks on my own. The less time you spend around me, the better for you six.”
“With all due respect sir, we grew up in Gryphelheim. We know all the pathways and roads, and we know the fastest and least patrolled routes. Besides, while the lieutenant may be working to save daedalus…”
“We work for you,” another said as the six simultaneously lowered their beaks to the ground.
Pensword gawked, then sputtered, but it was already too late. Already the rest of the unit had turned their backs. Pensword’s face turned ruddy with anger as he took a deep breath, ready to shout some sense into them until Cosy put a hoof on his wing, his eyes filled with concern. Pensword broke off, then let loose an explosive breath and sighed. “Look me in the eye and tell me. Why? Why are you throwing all this away?” He asked, motioning to the barracks and their former brothers. There was still time for them to salvage their reputations if they would renounce what they had done.
“You saved us. You fight for the emperor, yet you have no reason to help us. In truth, you have every reason to just leave Gryphonia to its fate. Instead, you risk yourself and your kin for us. Such an act is something that takes great strength. It is such strength that we wish for you to teach us.”
Pensword stood quietly, still looking at these warriors’ eyes, at their faces. Finally, he turned his back on them. “Take what you consider the most valuable. We will not be returning this way until all is secured.” With that said, he began to walk towards his kin. “You want Strength? Talk to Grif. I will introduce you later.” He herded Cosy along. He did not know what to think. Something in those Gryphons’ eyes unnerved him, but why, he could not say.
Brunhilda slowly tipped her canteen, letting water trickle down Kel’leam’s gullet. He drank without complaint as they waited. The wound had been bandaged and treated with what few medical supplies had been stocked in the room, but it had not been accessed in centuries, and the lack of maintenance showed. She made some show of going to consult with Daedalus on matters of strategy. Another guard took her place, tending to their fallen comrade.
“It’s not looking good, Grif.” She shook her head. “His life is fading. There’s not much more that we can do.”
“How long?” Grif asked. His tone was shaky.
“I really can’t say. The blood is pooling inside, sopping his tissues, saturating his organs. It could be a few hours, or a matter of minutes. When he starts to feel cold, his time will be close. A few minutes after, he’ll be flying with his ancestors.”
“He didn’t deserve this,” Grif said, looking to Daedalus. “He didn’t deserve to spend his last years struggling to survive before working for a low end clan leader outside of his homeland.”
“No, Grif, he didn’t,” Daedalus said sadly. “But one thing you should know is you are anything but a low end clan leader. You’ve succeeded where every Gryphon has failed for over a thousand years in Equestria. You have officially established a true clan, one that is uniting our people an ocean away. You gave Kel’leam a home, a family, and hundreds of others like him besides. He lived for you, and he died because of me. I’m not about to let that pass. Not this time.” The young emperor’s eyes had grown as cold as ice. “He deserves everything he had before, and so much more. I’m going to make sure he gets it.”
“Grask’s life belongs to me,” Grif said, his tone frigid. “I don’t care who or what says otherwise. I am going to tear him apart feather by feather until his blood paints the wind crimson.”
“You would summon the Crimson Gale?” Several of the Gryphons shrank back, wide-eyed as Brunhilda pulled Daedalus back a step. Daedalus shrugged her talons off and stepped forward again. “Grif, do you know the full effects of that art?”
“The Crimson Gale?” Grif looked at Daedalus. “Junior, if you knew half the atrocities I performed during the war, you wouldn’t stand so close to me.”
“And if you knew half the atrocities I had to endure in my lifetime and my rule, you’d know it wouldn’t matter to me one bit.”
Grif opened his beak to speak, anger blazing in his eyes.
“Avatar!” the lesser guard called. “He … he wants to speak with you.”
Grif was at Kel’leam’s side in an instant, all matter of the argument gone from his mind as he grasped his comrade’s talons in his own. “Kel’leam?” he whispered.
“Present, sir,” Kel’leam said as his lips pulled up into a wan smile.
“None of that,” Grif said. “Please. I don’t think I can take that.”
“What should I say then?” Kel’leam let loose another racking cough and wheezed slightly as he struggled to regain his breath.
“How would you talk to your brother?” Grif said, smiling weakly.
Kel’leam grimaced as his face spasmed. “Never ... had a brother before.”
“Well, you do now, like it or not. Now what did you want to say to me?”
“Just that it’s been an honor. I … need to do something. Something I need,” he wheezed, “family here for.”
“I’m here,” Grif told him kindly.
“I … wish that Chesh could be here,” he said, smirking. Then his eyes grew determined. “Give me my shield,” he instructed. “I can take the pain.”
“Whatever you say,” Grif said as he signaled Brunhilda to come help him. Gingerly, the two of them lifted kel’leam off the shield and onto the ground beside him. The two of them gently placed the shield over his good arm.
Kel’leam smiled. “That’s better.” It’s a pity I couldn’t have it cleaner, but it’ll have to do.” He looked up resolutely to Grif. “I’m a bastard,” he said plainly. “I was born into a house that looked down on me, spat on me, and viewed my very existence as a stain on their honor. Through many years, I clawed my way to become an honorable soldier with his own wages and his own strengths. I never received any major promotions. People wanted me to disappear, so I did. No one noticed me. Nobody acknowledged me. But I was always there to fulfill my duties. Things continued this way for a long time, until someone finally did notice me. Someone special.” He took another ragged breath.
“A Gryphon Lord. One who showed me the only compassion I had ever felt in my youth. He was the father I never had.” Kel’leam smiled. “He gave me a home, placed me in his service, and helped me to refine my technique in my chosen field. You don’t see many spear Gryphons in the empire.” He paused to receive another drink. “It was the best year of my life.”
Grif listened intently as Kel’leam spoke, not having the words to respond. Nearby, Brunhilda looked on, stone faced.
“He was like the father I never had. He offered me promotions on a regular basis, but I refused, not out of spite, but out of loyalty. I worked better if I wasn’t noticed, and I liked it that way. One day, my Clan Leader left for a summit with his appointed general. He returned home pale and furious. He never said what the reason was, and I knew better than to ask. If he wanted to tell me, he would of his own accord.
“The days passed, turning into weeks, then months. My clan leader never spoke of what had shaken him so. Things returned to normal and he put up a feast for a visiting suitor in a royal clan. His daughter was reaching a marrying age, and the honor of joining his clan to a higher one would open many doors. My sister, for I viewed her as such, was not averse to the idea. We often spoke one with another in our free time when her father set me to guard her person. She refused to marry if it wasn’t for love. On that point she was quite firm, and her father, Winds bless his soul, wisely agreed.” He shuddered and closed his eyes. When he opened them, they looked distant, less focused, though still very much alert.
“The suitor came and made his advances, staying for an entire week as he tried to woo her with gifts. When that didn’t work, he tried bribery. He even went so far as try to order me to convince her to marry him. By that point, his welcome had worn thin, and my former clan leader let him know at some length what he could do with his money and his offers. I still remember what he said. ‘Prince or no prince, that pompous pile of feathers leaves my compound tonight.’” Kel’leam smiled. “I alway admired him for that. He never minced words and never expected anyone else to either.” Tears came to Kel’leam’s eyes.
“He died that night, clawing for life at the head of the table. I watched the foam frothing from his mouth until his body stopped twitching. I watched my captain close his eyes and shake his head. Then he looked to me and nodded. I acted accordingly, taking the mistress to her quarters and placing a guard on her room before returning to the scene. Our medical staff identified the poison: Cyanide, a curious white powder made from apricot pits and apple seeds. The Gryphon I viewed as my father was dead, and my sister was in distress. I vowed I would kill the murdering son of a Diamond Dog if it was the last thing I would ever do. In a sense, it was.” He hissed as another spasm of pain rocked his body. Daedalus looked sadly on Kel’leam, even as the others gathered round to hear the tale, each outraged at the thought of such dishonor. Brunhilda remained neutral, even as she folded her arms behind the emperor.
“Having accomplished the initial emergency protocol, I made my way to the next step: evacuation of all important personel. That, unfortunately, was my assignment. The ass berated me for being so quiet and not announcing myself, even though I did, and ordered me to help him pack. I did so, being careful to follow his instructions as best as I was able while he hastily shoved clothing and armor pieces into their cases. I was just finishing packing a particularly expensive armor piece when I heard him cry in fear. I turned and on instinct, lunged for the moving object. When my hand closed, I felt something cold, hard, and concave. On closer inspection, I found the item I held in my hand was some type of mortar made from what appeared to be clay. As I held the bowl up, I noticed a pale white substance, similar to flour clinging to the base. A worm could tell what had happened.” Kel’leam broke off into another racking cough as Grif put a moist cloth against his beak to catch the flecks of blood.
Grif did his best to hold back tears. “Easy there, Kel’leam. Take it slow. We got plenty of time.”
“You might, Grif, but mine is running low,” Kel’leam said in his ragged voice. “I need to finish. You have to know … why.” He grimaced in pain. “I … will admit it wasn’t my finest hour. I acted in haste and skewered him with extreme prejudice. And then I stabbed him while he lay on the floor. I wasn’t even aware of the breaking shards from when I dropped the mortar. I remember screaming though. That, I definitely remember. The rest,” he groaned, “they know,” he said motioning with his head towards Daedalus and his guards. The other Bladefeathers had gathered around their dying comrade and tears streamed openly down their cheeks. “And you can guess.”
“Any Gryphon would have done the same thing,” Grif told him. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“Perhaps, but by the laws, I did. We were of separate classes. Even if the evidence had survived, I had no right to kill him. I don’t regret killing him, even after all these years, but I do regret having to leave Lana on her own.”
Brunhilda’s armor creaked slightly as she held her arms tightly over the metal plating.
“She was well taken care of, Kel’leam. I made sure of it,” Daedalus said reassuringly.
“Thank you ... your majesty,” Kel’leam sighed as he labored to breathe. A light draft eddied through the room, ruffling his feathers. “It’s that time, isn’t it?” he asked tiredly.
“Oh, Kel’leam, who’s going to keep my head on straight now?” Grif chuckled, but there was no humor in it. “You know me. I can’t be trusted to direct my own actions.”
“And you direct a whole compound? Amazing.” Kel’leam chuckled weakly as he lifted his shield. He laid it across his lower torso and then dabbed blood from his arrow wound and smeared it on the point between the two decorative bows that had been carefully carved along the edges and sides of his shield, breaking at the top. He repeated the action for the left, right, and lower tip of the weapon with a last addition in the center.
“One for each of the people I love. For Lana, who I never had the chance to explain or apologize to. For her father, who treated me like a son. For Daedalus, the hope of our world, the future of the empire. For Grif, who found me and gave me a family again. For Chesh …” the words caught in his throat as tears ran down the sides of his cheeks. “For everything she ever did for me. For words unsaid, and deeds undone.” He caressed the center mark. “I’m so sorry,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. He held it there for quite some time, just breathing as he recalled the many memories and events of his life. Then, at last, he slowly opened his eyes. They were glassy and milky. “Grif? Where are you?” he asked.
“Right here, Kel’leam,” Grif said shakily, placing a hand gently on the Gryphon’s chest.
Kel’leam took the hand with his one good one and guided it towards the straps of his greatshield. “Take it, Grif. You’re my family now. Take it back home. Please.”
Grif didn’t even try to hold back his tears as they ran freely. “I hope you find him amongst the winds, Kel’leam. Enjoy those thermals, and keep an eye out for me.” He hesitantly lifted the shield, accepting a gift from a dying Gryphon for the second time in his life. For a brief moment, he remembered Graf lying in bed, breathing his last few breaths.
“Chesh … tell her … tell her …” He let out a long, gurgling sigh, and then he was gone. Brunhilda slowly stepped into the circle and knelt by the Gryphon’s wounded side. Unclasping a hand, she slowly pulled it away from her armor. The metal had been bent and deformed. She slowly reached down and ran her talons over Kel’leam’s eyes, sealing them closed forevermore and allowing him to enter that long sleep at last. Daedalus stood behind her and laid a hand on her shoulder.
“It’s alright,” he said. “Do what you need to do. No one will judge you here ... Lana.” Brunhilda stiffened.
“That name died a long time ago,” she said hoarsely.
“I’m bringing it back,” Daedalus said. “Now do what you have to do.”
Brunhilda glared at Daedalus, then looked around at the gathered Gryphons. She reached down and removed the arrow from the body, clasping it in Kel’leam’s talons and laying it on his chest. “Kel’leam, you stupid fool,” she said as her eyes began to tear. Her talons dug into the stone, causing her to tremble as she looked down on the corpse. She tossed her head back and unleashed a wail that echoed through the room and penetrated the body of every Gryphon present before laying her body over his and clutching his shoulders in a makeshift embrace. “You idiot,” she cried over and over again as she slowly degraded to sobs, mixing her tears with his blood.
A harsh wind blew through the closed-off room, cold enough to bite to the bone. Grif stood there, motionless, with the shield in his hands. The tears flowed freely down his face. Then he screamed, a scream filled with pure hatred, rage, pain and utter bloodlust. A scream such as had never been heard in all of Gryphelheim before. The wind itself seemed to writhe as Grif held that shriek. Black wisps gathered around his form, appearing out of nowhere and dancing mysteriously in the gusts that now swirled around Grif’s body. The collective Gryphons found themselves feeling much like their prey in the hunt. For the first time, they felt terror.
“Open it.” Grif’s voice was warped: deeper, raspy, and cold as the bitter wind that surrounded him. This was not a request.
“Grif …” Daedalus said.
“Nevermind.” Grif’s eyes glowed brightly as he extended his wings, his voice magnified in the confined space as it echoed against the walls and tore through cracks and crevices. “NORTH WIND, HEAR YOUR AVATAR! I SEEK JUSTICE. LEND ME YOUR STRENGTH!” The cold room grew colder. Several Gryphons found their teeth chattering as the wind bashed against the door, sending dust flying back in waves. At first, the door held firmly, but soon there was the familiar hollow sound of stone grating stone.
Pensword pressed himself against one of the walls of the alleyway. His hooves stood in the dusty street as he peered towards the docks. He looked back to his six new charges. “Where to now?” he asked. It still felt wrong to seek information from his former enemies, but they knew more of the city’s layout than he did. They were an essential asset, and he needed to put his bias aside for Cosy’s sake, if nothing else. His ears swivelled, focusing on anything that might be a threat.
“The docks should be just past this building,” One of the Gryphonesses, a Great Horned Owl-Ocelot mix named Bershada told him. “It sounds like we joined the party just in time,” she said, reaching around to grab her curved daggers.
Pensword rose his wings in preparation. He looked to another Gryphon, a male Goldfinch-Manul mix named Kahn and gave him a nod. With the flip of his head, he Indicated the closed door to their side. They needed to get to the docks, and the fastest way was through the building. Kahn nodded as he readied his small, simple, one-clawed curved blade. Pensword found Matthew thinking about some kind of curved sabre of a similar make, and a single word reverberated over and over in his mind: Mongolian. Shaking his head to clear his mind, Pensword focused again as Kahn kicked at the door, easily destroying it. Two of their team flew into the room for aerial support while the others streamed in below.
Pensword entered the building last as they secured the room, followed by Cosy. A small family of Gryphons and their cubs were huddled together in what appeared to be a storage room of some type. Pensword approached the family and whispered to them as the others prepared to act as backup. “Do not speak; do not breathe a word. We shall pass over you without causing harm. Just remain at peace. I shall leave the traitors’ coin to pay you for damage and the use of your front door.”
Not pausing to hear a reply, Pensword raced to the front of the building, where the six stood guard at the front door, ready to burst out the windows and into the road. Cosy held back behind them as per the instructions Pensword had given him. All could hear the sound of conflict now as Gryphons screamed across the streets in the distance. He looked to Kahn and nodded three times.
The signal given, Pensword roared a battle cry as the windows shattered and the door was ripped open. Six Gryphons and one Demon charged into the rear ranks of sixty seven Gryphons trying to retake the docks from the Emperor’s troops. Cosy charged next to Pensword with a smile on his muzzle.
“Cosy, to your left!” Pensword shouted as a Gryphon wearing the emblem of Grask tried to attack. Cosy turned his head and the sword he had picked up from the Barracks sliced at the helmet-wearing foe. He twirled his head and the blade plunged forward, thanks to his levitation magic, pushing it through the gap near the left wing hole. Blood spurted from the site as the Gryphon cried out in pain. The soldier tried to yank it out, only to be zapped by the magic glow around the sword, compliments of a combat spell Pensword had taught the young prince. “Nobody’s taking this empire today,” Cosy said.
The Gryphon lunged. Hastily, Cosy yanked the blade out with his magic to block the talon strike before he plunged it into the Gryphon’s neck. Concentrating, he slashed the sword out. The Gryphon collapsed, its head rolling back and forth as its body bled out.
Pensword was fighting hoof to wing to talon with another Gryphon. So enthralled was he that he barely caught the killing blow Cosy had performed. He easily impaled the Gryphon through its armor before he kicked the dying Gryphon away. He stood up and froze as Kel’leam appeared in the distance. He gave Pensword a solemn salute before he disappeared on the breeze. Pensword blinked once as he processed what he had just seen. The Gryphons trembled as he roared, the sheer volume shaking the very docks themselves. He charged two Gryphons simultaneously, using his wing blades to knock them off balance. Before they could recover, Kahn and another of his party, a Peregrine Falcon with a Siamese cat body, skewered them through their armor. Both tore out their sabres, which, while incredibly similar, bore different designs.
Pensword plowed forward. He scanned the crowd until he spotted the Gryphon with the most expensive armor. His purpose was starting to become clear. “There you are,” he growled. The commander barked orders in the center of his forces, directing them on. Pensword roared.
“You have killed from the Bladefeather clan. You have dispatched a friend. I have lost friends before, but know this. Those who kill my friends must pay in kind. You have earned my wrath. You have gained my full attention, commander. The Demon sees you, and now he descends!” Pensword sheared the head off yet another Gryphon as he continued his advance. The next opponent charged with a claymore. Pensword bowed his head, allowing the claymore to strike off his back. His legs buckled slightly, but aside from that, he was fine. Taking advantage of the opening, Pensword charged forward, biting at the enemy’s armor, tugging at his straps. When he’d loosened them enough, he struck, plunging a blade into the hole. He felt the satisfying vibration up his sword and knew he’d found his mark. Pulling the blade out, he watched as the Gryphon collapsed, gasping for air with no way to succeed.
Pensword backed away before raising to his forehooves and bucking, knocking the Gryphon that had been trying to sneak up from behind. The force of the buck catapulted the warrior onto Kahn's waiting sabre, the sharp point punching right through the enemy’s helm. Looked to his side, he saw Cosy wielding another of the curved sabres similar to Kahn’s. He watched, pride mixed with his rage as a fourth gryphon fell under the young Crystal Prince’s assault. He was really starting to master the sword.
Doing a swift head count, Pensword found that forty soldiers remained. He turned and unleashed a devastating whiny as he reared before clopping his hooves down with the sound of thunder. Lightning arced from the skies, striking a cluster of his enemies as he charged, punching through the ring. Any other warrior might have found themselves trapped. Pensword didn’t care. He didn’t react like a trapped Pony. Instead, he charged the waiting commander. He couldn’t really gain an advantage with denting and collapsing areas. The quality of his opponent's armor was too high for him to cause any significant damage. Blocking the blow from the commander’s Bastard Sword with his wing, he spun around and kicked back at one of the eight personal guards, now five as a small skirmish broke out between two warriors. They didn’t have much time to finish the debate, so Kahn settled it for them as his blade pierced their armor and their hearts. Kahn was soon surrounded by eight others troops. He snarled as he nimbly dodged their attacks. Bershada quickly came to his aid.
Over by the docks, the front line began to buckle. Thirty five soldiers remained with almost half of them trying to subdue two. Jorund’s voice carried out over the pier. “Leave the Commander to Personal Combat. Do not deny The Demon his price!”
Pensword spun as a Gryphon tried to charge him. He turned and bucked yet again, simultaneously using his wings to block the Commander’s attack. The Gryphon he bucked fell, his neck broken. He shuddered as he heard a commotion to his left. Turning, he saw twenty fresh Gryphons flying to their companions’ aid. Pensword’s six charges formed up to block the approach. “Back up to forty,” he mumbled angrily.
Pensword turned in surprise as he heard Cosy shout a command, but he would never know what was said as he took a glancing blow to the head from a mace. Fortunately, thanks to Hammer Strike’s designs and crafting, he remained in tact. His head rattled as the sound faded from his left ear, leaving the ring of metal upon metal. Unfortunately, when he tried to shift his ear, the cleverly crafted piece Hammer Strike had forged would not comply. He turned and, in his anger, took to the air. Just as he had hoped, seeing a pony fly after fighting on the ground for so long stunned a few of the soldiers, granting openings for lethal attacks. The one that hit him died by decapitation, as did the two that followed, leaving 17 Gryphons in the main group. The Commander and his four remaining guards tried to disengage, only to get entangled with Jorund’s forces. Moments later, the four guards were bloody pulps as a massive blast of wind exploded from their corpses, simultaneously trapping the commander in a cage of wind. Pensword smiled, It seemed Avalon was getting bolder with her moves.
“Avalon…. was that … wind magic?” Jorund asked, trying to convince himself of what he had just seen.
Avalon looked to the shore, focus in hand, the chain wrapped around her arm like a rosary. The remaining Gryphons had begun to take to the skies, harrying Pensword. She narrowed her eyes. “Oh no you don’t,” she said, placing her focus around her neck as Snowy alighted on her shoulder. Extending her hand, a golden glow surrounded her and her familiar as the Quetzalcoatl scale shimmered with a rainbow light. A mass of cold air blew down, buffeting the Gryphons’ wings as they struggled in the air before they dropped. Several crashed into one another in their descent as playful eddies tore and threw them like a child does her dolls. She smirked, turning to Jorund. “Does that answer your question, captain?”
“... Thank The Winds you’re on our side,” Jorund said as he observed the fight.
“Save the thanks for after we win,” she said as she glared at the battle.
Pensword stalked forward towards the cage of wind. “I claim the other Commander in the rite of personal Combat! Will he honor my challenge, or cower like the miserable cur he is?”
A roar of defiance echoed from the edge of the pier. “Who dares?”
Pensword snorted as he faced the Commander in the cage, surrounded by the corpses of his guards. The prisoner swung wildly at the Pegasus, who easily sidestepped the attacks like they were nothing, his attention riveted in the direction of the battle. Then he roared. “The Demon Dares!”
With little effort, he swung a wing blade and knocked the Bastard Sword from the first commander as the winds surrounding him became less intense. The Commander moved to pull a blade from his side, only for Pensword to pounce upon him, biting and snarling as the cage dispersed. His fangs made quick work of the helmet straps. The Commander’s head was now exposed, revealing a face with a half undone eye patch. His one good eye had nearly swollen shut from the continuous onslaught that was Pensword’s fury. He glared in defiance and tried to peck at him with his woodpecker beak. It was the last time he’d ever be able to try as his beak was cut from his face with a single swipe of Pensword’s wings. The second swipe ended the Gryphon’s life.
His first honor killing done, Pensword looked up, panting as Cosy made yet another kill. Kahn worked to cover the young foal’s back, even as Cosy did the same for him. Avalon had lifted two Gryphons up and slammed them into another with her magic. Eighteen total Gryphons remained out of the two forces. His breath regained, Pensword stepped along the pier towards the land and his remaining forces, flanked on either side by an escort of Jorund’s men. All fighting ceased as a collective gasp passed along the street. The second commander stepped forward, a white cloth wrapped around a sword as he waved it back and forth with stony gaze. Cosy grinned and yelled. “As Crown Prince of the Crystal Empire, I graciously accept your surrender!” With those words, Cosy had just earned political clout for the whole Crystal Empire, as well as for himself.
The Gryphons around looked shocked, then sick. The Commander roared. “I refuse to surrender to a fledgling! I would rather surrender to the Demon than to some pony that has yet to even earn his wings in combat!”
Kahn reacted with his own roar that silenced the almost rebellious cries as he took to the air. “I personally can attest to no less than ten kills by the War Prince.” His words stunned more than a few. “You are surrendering to one who has earned his combat wings this day. You have added to his prestige and to Daedalus’ by cementing the future relations of our two Empires.” Kahn smiled wickedly. “As a Demon Damned, however, the commander cannot surrender. He accepted the challenge, and he will honor it by meeting The Demon in mortal combat.”
Pensword’s smile broadened into a sinister grin. “I agree. I shall gladly meet you in combat.”
The Commander snarled, but those around him parted, leaving him exposed and without any means for a body guard. He stood his ground and faced the jaws of death. All the Gryphons knew the legends. They had seen The Demon in combat. They knew how skilled a fighter he was as a shower of blood surrounded his wings. A thousand years ago, this warrior, this creature, had slaughtered their ancestors and laid claim to their lands. Now he stood upon the very soil of their capital, still as bloody, still as dangerous, still vengeful. They were afraid.
The Commander lifted his blade as Pensword charged him. In two moves, the battle was over. The Commander lunged as Pensword parried, sliding the blade off with a shower of sparks. Taking advantage of the break in his guard, Pensword used his other wing blade and lunged in turn. His longest feather blade pierced the eye socket hole of the helm. The Gryphon stiffened, his sword clattering to the ground as Pensword drew close to his face. The Demon growled at his enemy. “A thousand years ago, I fought many powerful Gryphons. Among them was a Commander named Jorund Bloodfeather. He was the leader in charge of Fort Triumph. He was pitiful. But even so, Jorund Bloodfeather was a far better fighter than you ever were.” He shoved the commander off his wing. The Gryphon gurgled to the ground and fell into a bout of spasms. Pensword watched as he clawed at his eye, twitched, circled as his legs kicked, digging into the earth. Slowly they weakened, then he stopped, a final rattle exiting his lungs as Pensword stared, stone faced.
“This battle is over,” he said. The Gryphon prisoners nodded eagerly.
“You seem to have gathered quite a few prisoners.” Jorund smiled as he approached Bellacosa.
“Yup, and they’re all mine. My first conquest. I can’t wait to tell Uncle Shining.” Cosy beamed.
“Well, at this point it would be reasonable to make your demands,” Jorund said. “What do you want for custody of the prisoners?” he grinned to himself.
“Oh, I dunno, you sure seem like you want em,” Cosy said, smiling.
“If I don’t buy them from you, their families will probably offer your sister a sum for them and then they’ll be free. With me, they’ll be tried and punished properly by the emperor. Also, we can eliminate such expense as third party negotiators.”
Cosy pursed his lips as he pondered the Gryphon’s words. “You make a good point. And that’s not good. Grif wouldn’t be too happy if they didn’t get justice,” he said as he rubbed a hoof under his chin. “Alright, I’ll give em to you for a round ten billion.” He polished a hoof on his chest fur and smiled.
“Ten bil--that’s outrageous!” Jorrund said “I’ll give you ten million for them,” he said, holding his head up straight.
“After all the lives they’ve taken from my troops? You think their families are going to take a few million and settle at that? I’ll level with you. Give me eight billion. That should cover medical expenses, funerary rights, and the stipends their families deserve.”
“You take food out of my family’s mouth! I’ll need to thin out the larders, but I’ll give you fifty million,” Jorund said, grimacing.
“Fifty Million? I could get three times as much from their families at least. No. Still, you did fight to protect your kingdom. I respect that. I nearly lost mine for a thousand years. Because of your loyalty to your emperor, I’ll lower my price to, say six billion?” Cosy said as he wiggled his brows.
“I’d have to sell my house to pay half that. I’ll give you three hundred million and hope my family can forgive me,” Jorrund said.
“From the Gryphon who’s one of the oldest families in the empire? Please. Grif’s taught me about your history. He told me how much you like to haggle, and just who your ancestor was. You have plenty to pay with. I’ll go as low as four billion. Be grateful I’m being so generous,” Cosy sniffed, flicking his head indignantly in the air.
“This is what I get for haggling with a fledgling,” Jorrund said. “I’ll give you half a billion.”
“A fledgling who earned his wings already. Two billion.”
“A fledgling who is reaching for more than his grasp. Seven hundred million.”
“Eight hundred.”
“Done,” Jorund said, slamming his talons down.
“And done,” Cosy said as he stamped a hoof in response. Then he laughed. “That was fun. Thanks for going easy on me, Jorund.”
“Keep it up and you’ll be cornering markets everywhere.” Jorund laughed as he ruffled Cosy’s mane affectionately.
Pensword walked from the Gantrithor’s mobile triage unit, where the wounded were being treated. Cosy was spending time with some of the Crystal Ponies who had been stationed on the docks, and working to try and create the illusion of protecting the Emperor’s airship. They had just finished mooring the airship that Cosy and he had purchased together. He had a moment to gather his thoughts, so he moved to a bench, sat down upon it, and looked up at the two airships. While he had thought the one he bought was a decent size, the emperor’s airship made Cosy’s look like a tug boat by comparison.
The ship was massive in length and breadth. As Jorund had mentioned, the Gantrithor was a tenth of a mile long from stern to stem and nearly half that on it’s widest point. The front of the ship stretched outwards with a large cylindrical front before moving into long flat sides stretching to the ship’s center. This front was divided into two equal halves with a three deck tall recess. This recess was glowing orange from some lightsource that reminded Matthew of a computer game he’d played when he was younger, something called Homeworld. Pensword mentally frowned for a moment at how easily Matthew was getting distracted by the ship’s design. Still, its design was almost unheard of, with the bottoms having these strange glowing circles: two wide and ten long. The recess continued the entire length of the ship, vanishing around the center of the ship’s body due to a large wheel.
At the ship's center, the wheel was connected to either side with a giant rotating disc-like structure inside it. The top of the ship bowed down slightly into a large flat region lined with great ballistas on rotating platforms. The back of the ship terminated into a large circular, cone-like tower with floating rings hovering over it spinning slowly in alternating directions. The bottom of the ship was built to allow what appeared to be smaller airships to dock with it in mid-flight, with the wheel acting as a cradle. Two large hooks and a massive spike adorned the bottom back of the ship, most likely as a means for emergency landings. The ship didn’t seem like it would be capable of the speeds Grif had boasted before with its large, firm, and bulky armor plating.
Pensword looked upon the Gantrithor in its entirety and he felt like it would be an amazing adventure just to explore the vessel. He paused as he saw something that looked like a Chrysanthemum at the front of the vessel.
“The Gantrithor,” Jorund spoke as he approached Pensword from behind. “The largest, most powerful airship ever made.” The red Gryphon sighed. “I suppose it’s only fitting it should accompany you back to Equestria.”
“Well, we need to buy time, so while we are going back to Equestria, she will see service. It’s the only way to ensure Daedalus’ safety.” Pensword looked back at the vessel. “I do not know what the future will hold, but we are not going straight back to Equestria. That will cause more political ramifications than even I, as a Demon, would care to handle.” His eye twitched. “Also, Jorund, is it not customary for Gryphons to refer to their ships as a Gender? Equestrians refer to their vessels as female. How do you view your vessels?”
“I’m not a sailor,” Jorund said. “I’m unfamiliar with terms and superstitions.” He smiled. “If I understand the historians correctly, much of this ship was intended for Equestria.”
“Then the gender is a female. She will be a mighty vessel,” Pensword answered. “I may have been a land leader, but I know a bit of legends. While the water vessels have bad luck if one renames it, In Equestria, it is bad luck to sail upon an airship without naming the vessel in your own ceremony. Sometimes the name stays the same. For others, the name will be changed.” He paused as Jorund’s last words finally registered. “What do you mean it was intended for Equestria?”
“The crystal empire was the trickiest part of the Third Gryphon War. Its walls and its crystal technology made any invasion plans ineffective. According to the historians though, Celestia had asked them to develop a platform for deploying pegasi in a manner that is easier and safer than simple cloud barges. When the empire vanished, we pressed forward in secret and raided a facility that had somehow been overlooked. The core of the ship and the notes for certain designs were taken. Based on what our historians say, I imagine we were more lucky in finding it than anything else.”
“Well,” Pensword answered with a smirk, “it seems that the delivery will happen, just a thousand years later. So, anything I should know about this vessel? I’d rather not have any surprises onboard.”
“We’ve only been able recruit you a small team of engineers, and they’ll be on the first ship home as soon as you land in Equestria, so be prepared to take a lot of information in very quickly. You may want to try and divert some of your people to that.”
“I shall keep that in mind,” Pensword answered. “I look forward to learning and seeing what we have to work with. And do not worry; the techs will be sent home ASAP.”
“Sir, the room is secure,” one of the soldiers spoke to Grask. “The emperor has sealed the door, but if our reports are correct, they are without food or water.”
“Then they’ll die a coward’s death. The more the better. I would’ve preferred taking the little brat’s life myself, but I can settle for your father’s murderer, Khutal,” Grask said as he laid a supportive hand on the soldier’s shoulder. “His vengeance will be made sure soon.”
“Thank you, Uncle.” The gryphon lowered his beak. “I look forward to the glory of your co--” he was cut off as a scream echoed through the palace, a scream of such rage and pain that the fur on the back of the neck of every Gryphon stood rigid.
“What was that?” one gryphon asked.
“The sound of satisfaction,” Grask purred. “The murderer doubtless has passed, and now the hopelessness of their situation is finally setting in. We’ve won, gentlemen.” Grask laughed triumphantly.
Before anyone could say anything, the door groaned from a heavy blow. The runes covering it glowed brightly in protest before another blow struck. Green energy crackled through the air as the large stone door began opening, swinging ponderously on its hinges. Gryphons watched, dumbstruck, as one of the most powerful enchantments in the empire gave way. As the door widened, some gryphons swore they saw gusts of wind in the form of giant talons pushing against the crack, widening it. Worse yet, as the doors opened they found themselves staring into an abyss, the entire door frame blackened by a powerful miasma. The only light amongst the darkness were two glowing pinpricks and a set of sharp, pearly teeth. As the soldiers watched, the teeth moved, the eyes flashed, the creature spoke. The voice was clearly the avatar’s, but it was distorted, twisted into something that bit down to the soul like the coldest winter winds.
“Beware the jabberwock, my son! With jaws that bite,” the teeth snapped for emphasis. “and claws that catch.” Taloned hands appeared from the darkness and scraped back in with the shriek of the damned. “Beware the jubjub bird and shun the frumious bandersnatch.”
Grif stepped out of the darkness slowly at a measured pace as the winds whipped around him furiously, blackened gusts batting around within the vortex.
“You disappoint me, Grif,” Grask said, shaking his head sadly. “I thought we had an understanding. You know the old ways better than any other. The weak must fall to give rise to the strong. This Empire needs that strength, needs the change only a strong leader can bring. That only I can bring.”
“Pride cometh before a fall, and you will find by the end of it all, you’ll find no grave, no sleeping hole, for you have disgusted even my darkened soul.” The words cut Grask with each well aimed syllable. As he spoke, Grif undid the straps holding his remaining throwing blades in their holder. The daggers immediately fell, only to be snatched by the whirlwind, circling Grif like a school of locusts. Whatever Grask was talking to, it wasn’t fully Grif. It wasn’t fully the being he’d met in the monastery. This ... thing was something darker. Something wicked.
“Don’t just stand there! Shoot him!” Grask ordered as one of his soldiers moved forward with his bow and fired at Grif. A cold chill slowly crept down Grask’s back as his fur grew clammy under his armor.
“He took his vorpal sword in hand.” In what seemed like a single twitch of his talons, Grif had drawn one of his blades and cut the arrow into several long, sharp splinters that spun in the wind. “Long time the maxome foe he sought.” The splinters shot back towards the Gryphon who had fired the arrow, burying themselves into the muscle tissue at his joints so deeply that he dropped instantly, his arms and legs totally disabled. “So rested he by the tumtum tree.” The steel arrowhead floated above his left talon as he turned to the archer, almost playing with the deadly weapon before its point turned towards the immobilie creature and began to spin. Faster and faster it went, until the air shimmered around it with a deadly whirr. “And stood awhile in thought.” The arrow head shot from Grif’s talons, burying itself in the Gryphon’s throat. Shreds of blood and flesh spattered the warriors around the archer as the arrow finally struck the ground, sparks flying. The scent of burnt fur and feathers entered the troops’ nostrils before the angry whine died to a struggling whimper and was finally silent.
The gathered throng stared, gawking at the sheer ruthlessness of the act Grif had just performed. The scent of fear hung heavily in the air mixed with the stale, pungent odor of urine. Grask glared and raised his sword. “Unholy abomination, you who call upon the darkened gale. Thy life is cursed, thy title forfeit, and you will fall to our blades for the life you have unjustly taken. TO ARMS!” A hesitant murmur ran through the gathered warriors as some few made an effort to raise their weapons. “I said, to arms!” Grask said as he ran a sword through one of the less enthusiastic warriors gathered. “That thing isn’t the only one capable of killing. Now fight!”
Two blurs of motion darted to the rafters of the throne room, then dove, their plain steel helms reflecting the dark winds as their polished sheen dulled in the midst of the hatred that awaited them.
“And as in uffish thought he stood.” Grif neither turned nor acknowledged his attackers save to block their blades with no visible effort, using his one sword. Finally, he turned to them. “The jabberwock with eyes of flame came whiffling through the tulgey wood.” Grif parried several more strikes with seeming flicks of his hands, his speed and control vastly outmatching the two warriors. Finally, with a bored expression, he struck, cutting both throats with a single sweeping motion. “And burbled as it came.” The two Gryphons fell with twin burbles of their own as they grasped at their throats and thrashed on the floor until they bled out.
“You miserable piece of filth! You’ll pay for killing my servants!” The Kingfisher rose into the air, closely followed by Cornelius.
“Valerius, you fool, think! Close quarter combat will only lead to your death. Take this!” He tossed a war hammer to the Kingfisher as he took a halberd one of the troops below had thrown up to him. “Stay together. We have to guard one another.”
Grif looked at them with a grim smile as he reached behind him and grabbed Vigilance, drawing it with a deliberate slowness. The runes quite suddenly glowed a deep green, as if they, too, were reacting to his pain. “One,two! One,two! And through and through.” He chuckled, approaching them at a slow, measured pace, daring them to attack.
Cornelius attacked first, moving to pierce Grif’s defenses with a two-handed thrust. Grif responded by ducking low before moving forward with a blow to Cornelius’ exposed talon. Cornelius grinned through the pain as the deep sound of rushing air heralded the oncoming blow to Grif’s back.
In an instant, Valarius’ war hammer was deflected by the throwing knives still held in Grifs vortex as the force of wind compensated against the force of the overhand blow. “Impossible,” Valarius gasped.
Grif chuckled grimly. “Tsk tsk tsk,” was all he said while shaking his head as he buffeted valarius’ face with a wing before leaping over him and kicking him in the back.
Valarius roared and twisted, putting all the momentum he had into the hammer as he prepared to strike the Gryphon in his downward arc. This time, Grif blocked the hammer with his blades in a scissor motion. Catching the neck of the hammer, Grif managed to halt the momentum using a cushion of wind to support him. “The vorpal blade went snicker snack,” he said, pushing the blades and the hammer forward with all his power. The kingfisher visually sweat as the blades crossed either end of his neck. “Snicker-snack.” He closed the scissors…
Thunk went the hammer head, shorn from its neck.
Thunk. Valarius’ head followed as blood spurted from the decapitated body. Grif stood grimly as the blood showered around him, dispersed by the winds that surrounded him. He turned and slashed as the head of the halberd meant for his chest fell to the ground at his feet. Shrieking in rage, Cornelius plunged the remnants of the halberd toward Grif’s left side. The plates creaked and cracked before finally snapping under the halberd’s and Cornelius’ combined weight. The armor gave, shearing the makeshift spear as it plunged into Grif’s shoulder. Valarius cried out in triumph.
Roaring as the pain burned, Grif struck with a slash of his other arm. “He left it dead.” The line came in almost perfect symmetry as the blade passed through the space formerly occupied by the flesh of cornelius’ neck. “And with its head he went gallumping back.” Grif spat as the Gryphon, head and body, hit the ground. He turned to face Grask, even as he pulled the spear from his arm with a savage scream and tossed it aside, hitting the guard next to the would-be-emperor square in the chest. He lifted Vengeance as he took a step towards the source of his hate.
With the a steely hiss, the Gryphon who had given the report stepped forward, his expression grim as he wielded his set of twin scimitars. “Uncle, go,” he said grimly.
“And hast thou slain the jabberwock?” in an instant Grif was before this Gryphon, wrapping a talon around his shoulders, and for the first moment seemed to be embracing him. “Come to my arms my beamish boy.” Grask looked back as he ran to see his nephew’s body stiffen, then stumble back as Grif released him. All fifteen of the throwing blades were buried in his chest. “Oh frabjous day! Callooh! Callay! He chortles in his joy!” Grif let out a dark laugh as the morale broke and the forces began to flee for the doors. Grif turned to follow. He took a step forward.
And then he screamed as pain racked his form. The four stones of The Winds on the walls of the throne room glowed brightly with the tile beneath his feet and the light from the eyes of the throne, bathing the room in stars. The blackness rapidly dispersed. As quickly as it happened, it ended, and Grif fell to the floor unconscious. The doors to the throne room snapped shut and locked themselves. The echoing wail of the miasma lingered a moment longer, then it too was gone.
Daedalus stood over the unconscious form of the Avatar, shook his head, and shed silent tears as he sheathed Vigilence and Vengeance, then began to pull the heartbroken warrior back to the shelter. A few moments later, some members of the guard joined him and lifted the limp form together. Yet another went and gathered the daggers from their resting place, cleaning them before returning them to their belt and carrying it inside the alcove. The door slowly creaked shut, the wall sealed again, and the darkness welcomed them once more.
On the Gantrithor, Pensword, Cheshire, Avalon, Jorund, and Cosy stood at the helm over the magical planning apparatus. Currently, it was projecting a precise model image of Gryphelheim and the Imperial Palace along with all its many corridors. A solid layer of green surrounded them as Jorund zoomed in on the imperial compound. Suddenly they appeared to be standing on the clouds as the helm disappeared, replaced instead with scenery and images scryed into place. The compound was swarming with soldiers and militants. A very angry Grask was shouting at his troops as they rammed against the doors to the throne room.
“As you can see here, it would appear that Grif was able to rout the attack as planned and has managed to seal the throne room with some type of magic. Now that we’ve secured our position on the docks, it’s time to focus on strategy. We need to get in, grab the emperor, and get out as quickly as possible. Any suggestions?” Jorund asked
“How many airships do we have access to?” Pensword asked as he looked at the images. “How many hands are available? I might have an idea, but I need to know what assets we have to work with.”
“We can’t move the Gantrithor or your ship from these docks,” Jorund noted, waving his hands as the map adjusted over to the royal docks. Several of the airships were highlighted in red. “Hmm…” he said, looking. Finally, he spotted a ship in a cool blue color. “Die Kling seems to have escaped attack. And better yet, it’s not under Grask’s control.”
“Is there a means to get a message to them? If we can get my clan on board, they can help draw attention and do a drop on the castle. Meanwhile, the rest of our forces will be able to storm the palace and face only a minimal guard. We could be in and out easily, provided we move fast enough.”
“I can add to the distractions up there, too. My wind magic can keep any other ships at bay and possibly affect the troops on the ground as well, provided I can manage a two for one. I still haven’t been able to really test my full limits yet,” Avalon said.
“And I can go with Uncle Pensword to help get people out of the palace and back to the docks,” Cosy said.
“Cosy, I need you to stay here. Coordinate if possible. I will have Moon Biter help you. Look at this as an opportunity to learn how to lead troops.”
Cosy shook his head violently. “I’m not staying behind. I can help with my magic. Uncle Shining taught me some shield spells, and I can do teleports over short distances. That can come in handy. Besides, I handled things just fine back there on the docks. I want to help get Daedalus to safety.”
Pensword paused and looked at Cosy, his expression grim. “Cosy, I know you want to help, but at the moment, Grif is going to be in one of his moods. We fought together in the war. I cannot risk him doing something drastic. I have a bad feeling about this. I would rather have you safe up here. It is an unknown down there. I cannot risk you. I do not want your brother-in-law, nor your sister after me. Do you understand?”
“They won’t be, Pensword. The blame’s gonna be mine. And if you try to leave me behind, I’ll just come anyways. I have a feeling, too. And it’s telling me that you need me. Whether you like it or not, I’m coming.”
Pensword’s left eye twitched. “No, Moon Burn,” He spoke sternly, voice raised. “No!” He paused. The look Cosy was giving him had been the same as the young Thestral brother he’d lost so long ago. “Cosy… please, I lost my brother, my sister, my family to these beasts. I fear what I may do if I lose you as well.”
“I killed ten on my own already, Pensword. I can handle myself. You won’t lose me.”
“Cosy, you fought minor troops. The troops in the castle will be the elite and most trusted of Grask. That would be like facing some school yard bully and turning around to face a trained fighter.”
“That’s what the distraction is for,” Cosy reminded him. The Gryphons will be too worried about the airship to focus on us. And besides, I’m little. I don’t stand out all that much, so they won’t really notice me.”
“What if they ignore the airship?” Pensword countered. “And little? I trained my troops to look for the smaller targets in battle, to give any creatures on the field the same respect as I would the most elite of soldiers.”
“I’m not staying behind,” Cosy said adamantly as he stamped a hoof.
“Cosy, I am going to--as the head of your protection detail, I cannot agree with that.” He sighed, then looked at his charge. “Cosy, I cannot risk losing you.” His eyes took a glassy look as his mouth dropped open. “I do not want you--” He jerked his head abruptly to the side. “He--?” He yelled in confusion and shock. “Burn,” he growled. He flicked an ear in irritation, snorted, and shook his mane. “Fine, but you get him the best guardians you have on that side, or so help me--! STOP LAUGHING, MOONY!” He roared. Then he smirked. “You didn’t think I would use that old nickname?” Then he sighed. Fine, I will trust your words here. Just… Faust help you all if his fate is something I disagree with.”
“Um … am I missing something here?” Avalon asked.
A Thestral in the back cleared her throat. “The Commander ... has a gift. He can talk to those that have passed beyond the grave. We just saw what is essentially an argument between siblings. Or at least one side of it.”
“... You don’t say.” Avalon deadpanned.
“I think it’s pretty cool,” Cosy said, grinning and pleased as punch.
“Of course you would. You get to go on a dangerous mission. Honestly, you would have been good friends with Moon Burn and Windwhirl.” He shook his head. “It can be a burden as well.” He sighed, stepped forward, and nuzzled Cosy on the side of his muzzle. “Still, stay safe, and follow my lead. Every instruction. If I say run, you run. Deal?”
“Deal,” Cosy said. As an act of good faith, he spat into his hoof and held it out in a tradition as old as time. Pensword gave Cosy a strange look. Cosy smiled. “I saw my troops do this a few times.”
Pensword laughed before he, too, spat in his own hoof and sealed the deal with a hoof shake.
Grif groaned as his body strongly protested his decision to get to his paws with large amounts of pain. He looked around the room, “How long was I out?” he asked, rubbing his head.
The room was pensive and silent.
Grif lifted his head to look around the darkened space. Torches burned in sconces, having been taken from their rings in the throne room to add more light in the protective hole. The silence all around him was still, and the tension was thick. “Very well,” he said, looking around. “I make no excuses for myself. I’ll keep my distance.” He turned towards the corner of the room, grim faced, but silent.
“... Grif.” Grif felt a light hand on his shoulder. “Tell me what happened.” There was no judgement in that voice, neither anger nor sorrow. It was the voice of an old soul who had seen much and wished only for understanding and peace. When he turned to see who had spoken, he beheld the eyes of the emperor: compassionate, caring, yet stern. There was strength in those eyes.
“I wasn’t able to save him,” Grif said. “For the second time in a row, someone close to me has died because I was too weak to save him. What value am I if I can’t even protect those closest to me? What if it’s Avalon next time? What if it’s Shrial, my children? What good am I?”
“The kind that gives the lost second chances. You sacrifice, giving your all, holding nothing back for the people you love. I envy you, Grif. You’ve been able to live this way for your whole life. I never had that chance. Not until you came along. Not until you and those who share your ideals came to my aid and the aid of my people. Their deaths are not the signs of your weakness. They are the pillars of your strength.”
“Perhaps your youth has been misjudged,” Grif told him. “You may not be much for combat, and you are still a fledgling, but you have the wisdom to guide our race, the mercy to be kind when you can spare it, and the instinct to be ruthless when you can’t. Never let yourself believe you aren't strong. I’m not the hero you paint me to be, I’m simply the darkness who shadows the light. They will sing songs about you. They will curse my name. Always remember that, Daedalus.”
“I’ll remember you, Grif. And so will our people. But no one will curse your name while I draw breath. Justice isn’t always the perfect ideal we expect it to be. And darkness dwells in all of us. You suffered. We all suffer. Don’t let yourself become surrounded by that darkness when there are many waiting to support you in light.”
“Have the bodies of the fallen been looted?”
“Only to reclaim your daggers and take some rations. Grask was seeking entry, and it’s only a matter of time until he manages to break through the doors, magic or no magic.”
“If I know Pensword, that won’t be an issue. Can you send someone to retrieve something?”
“Yes.”
“There was a pair of scimitars on the last warrior I killed. I will carry those into this fight. Vigilance and Vengeance want no further part in it. If you would honor me, Daedalus, could I ask that you keep them safe until we must part ways?”
“If that is your desire. But the necessity may come sooner than you think.”
“We need to reach the docks. From there, you and I will say goodbye. I will take my people and convince Grask and his men that you have fled on the Gantrithor while you will take our ship to the western safehouse.”
“... Thank you, Grif. No matter what you may think of yourself, I want you to know you’re a good Gryphon, and a good friend.”
“Then if I may make a request?” Grif asked him. “There are going to be three empty slots needing to be filled in the royalty. Perhaps I could put forth a name?”
“It is the duty of the Avatar to provide counsel to the Emperor.” Daedalus smiled. “Who did you have in mind?”
“Gorin Farflyer. Yes, I know, the Avatar of Winds suggesting his brother-in-law. What scandal.” Grif deadpanned. “The Farflyers have supported your family since your great grandfather ascended the throne, and Garrus fears he has nothing to offer his youngest son. it would be good to keep a confidant close to you.”
“If he’s anything like his father, I’d be glad to have him, and his whole clan with him.”
“We should prepare,” Grif said. “They will be mounting another push soon, and this time they’ll be giving everything they have.” He drew a stiletto. “If it is your will, my emperor, it would be my honor to secure your safety again.”
“Cheeky.” Daedalus smirked. “By the Winds’ leave,” he said as the guards approached their Emperor. “We have hidden long enough. It is time for us to fight. Gryphons, Gryphonesses, we must fight to run away. That my bloodline may continue and that we, as brothers and sisters, may build a brighter tomorrow, free from the power-hungry, ruthless kings, that our Empire may truly be our empire. We will endure, we will weather the storm, and we will rise again upon the winds!”
“Bladefeathers!” Grif shouted to his clanmates. “Today, they have taken our brother. So how about we go take us some of theirs?” He let out a roar which, after a moment, was echoed by the Gryphons wearing the Bladefeather symbol. They marched onwards, not with thoughts of glory or riches. Just death, revenge, and the will to shape a future.
“Wonderful day for a bit of sport isn’t it, Rarity dear?” Fel jade said as she gave her rapier a few experimental swings. “I must confess I am wondering where your own training suit is?” she asked, regarding her own white padded fencing suit. The two mares stood casually in the training grounds of the courtyard. The day was bright and sunny, almost as if the Everfree Forest was smiling over the events about to come.
Fel Jade had initially been surprised when Rarity had suggested a fencing match. She, of course, knew how to fence since a basic instruction in the sport was provided at every finishing school in Canterlot, but she couldn’t help but wonder where a simple village mare could have picked it up. Still, she was all too happy to showcase her skill.
“Training suit?” Rarity asked. “Why, I didn’t know the nobles needed one.” Rarity casually flicked her perfectly coiffed hair to the side. “I’m perfectly fine on my own, darling, trust me.” With that said, she lit her horn up and drew her sword to hover in the air. “Ah, it’s been so long since I was able to pull out Seam Ripper.” She took it into her hooves and smiled as she reviewed its craftsmanship. “You know, Hammer Strike made this weapon just for me. It was his first gift. It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”
“It suits you so well. So perfectly quaint and rustic.” Fel Jade nodded. “I imagine you won’t find another of its like amongst all the ladies of canterlot.”
“Naturally,” Rarity said. Then she smiled a sickly sweet smile. “Are we ready to begin?”
“Five bits says this is being over in two minutes,” Heavy Set whispered to the stallion beside him.
“Five bits? I’d call that offensive,” he heard in response. “One hundred, less than a minute.”
“Hmm…. Heavy’s sandvich fund could be being doubled with that money…… da, da, Heavy agree,” the stallion nodded.
“Heavy, if you really need more funds for sandviches, you could always ask me.”
“...Boss?” Heavy asked, surprised as he looked behind him.
“Of course. You thought I wasn’t going to watch this?” Hammer questioned.
“Yeah, Amythest there doesn’t know what she’s got herself into,” Ahead Scout laughed before shoveling popcorn into his mouth.
“If she dies, can we have ze body?” Red Cross asked.
“If she dies, you’re not getting the body, because then I have to work towards defusing the situation with everyone in Canterlot.”
“En guarde!” Fel Jade slauted with her rapier.
Rarity returned the salute before Fel Jade moved ahead with a thrust that Rarity parried without even looking at. She didn’t press. She just waited for Fel Jade to try again. Her immediate jab was blocked once again with ridiculous ease. This time, she moved forward, ducking nimbly under Jade’s rapier to land a hard thrust on her shoulder.
“A hit!” Espionage shouted in his Phrench accent, holding a hoof to Rarity. His newly designed rouge suit and ski mask acted as a perfect flag as he signaled the point.
“That was really an excellent try, dearie, but your form’s too open and you’re too slow to repost. By drawing out your moves for artistic poise and pose, you leave yourself too open. I’d suggest working a little more on those reflexes, Darling,” Rarity said.
“I'll try to remember that, dear,” Fel Jade said before returning to starting position. Once again, Jade was the aggressor, starting off with a jab that was immediately parried, giving her only seconds to block Rarity’s thrust. She attacked with a thrust of her own, which Rarity blocked in turn. Fel Jade desperately threw her weight into a jab, causing her to lunge forward and lose her footing. With surprising speed, Rarity sidestepped the attack before landing Seam Ripper’s pommel in Fel Jade’s shoulder, followed immediately by a strike to the flanks, confirming her point.
“Hit!” Espionage confirmed again.
Fel jade winced a bit as she turned her flank and shoulder, smarting nicely. “Got a little carried away, did we, dear?”
“So sorry~,” Rarity said, fluttering her eyelashes. “Shall we begin again?”
Fel Jade’s form was much less confident as they returned to starting positions for the third and final time. This time, however, Rarity went straight to the offensive. In an almost savage manner, she rained down blows upon Fel Jade, who was far too busy parrying or blocking to try and push forward. The blades began sparking on contact as Rarity continued her push. The look in her eyes reminded Jade of a predator, and she found herself scared as she continued to block. Finally, with an audible snap, Seam Ripper pushed through Jade's rapier entirely, hitting the mare hard in her other shoulder and knocking her to the ground.
“Winner: Lady Rarity!” Espionage announced as Rarity offered Fel Jade a hoof.
Pulling her up, Rarity leaned in close and gave her a hug. “Now, Deary, we need to have a little talk,” she whispered. “Don’t scream, don’t whimper, don’t move. Just smile, listen, and act like everything’s fine. Nod if you understand.”
Fel Jade’s breath caught in her throat. Was she going to die? Was this how she died? she wasn’t dressed to die! she let out small whimper.
“Oh, darling, you whimpered. I told you not to do that,” Rarity tutted softly. “I’m offering this to you as a professional courtesy. Since you’re a fellow noble, I’ll give you one opportunity. Hammer Strike is off limits. If I see you try something like that again, I will come for you. And you, of all ponies, know just how sharp my blade is. Are we clear?”
Fel jade whimpered again. “Yes,” she squeaked.
“I said no talking. That’s a good girl. Now, play along in three … two … one.” She stepped away. “She’s alright,” Rarity said, smiling. “Good match, Fel Jade.”
“G-good match, Lady Rarity... dear?” Fel Jade’s voice was faint as she backed away from Rarity. “Oh, well look at the sun. Is it that time already? I really should pack up and head back to Canterlot,” she said before taking off for the fort to get her bags trailing a dust cloud behind her. Her training suit was all but in shambles thanks to Rarity’s swordsmanship.
“Awwww, going so soon? Do send our regards to Blueblood, won’t you, darling?” Rarity asked as she turned to her chosen stallion before approaching him and taking him up in yet another kiss.
After a moment passed and the kiss broke, Hammer Strike gave her a smile. “Thank you for that. I don’t know how much longer I would have lasted with her and her group here.”
“I think it’s safe to say we won’t be bothered for a long while,” Rarity said with a self-satisfied smirk.
“I think I’ll believe you on this one.”
“Of course. I always deliver on my promises, dearie. Always.”
“Those of you here will begin what is one of the most important endeavors of your magical career.” Sitting on work tables before the gathered Unicorns were large tubs filled with many different staff bodies, gemstones, and resins. Next to them a series of several rune stones and reference textbooks waited to be opened and used. Clover summoned her staff in a puff of smoke. “Your magical focus will act as your weapon on the battlefield. It also serves to amplify your magic when focused through it. Today, you will choose the materials for your staff. Before you, I have included the basic implements. A successful focus should contain organic and inorganic matter, a gemstone, and as an additional option, you may attach a weapon of your choice. But above all else, your focus must contain a piece of you. And remember, not all focuses are staves. Be creative. You're crafting what will hopefully be a most cherished partner. Are there any questions?”
“What if we don’t have anything that we can use to put in the staff that represents a piece of us? Would something like a hair do, or does it need to be something more specific and personal?” Vital asked.
“A piece of yourself could be anything as long as it defines you,” Clover answered. “Songebreeze the Serene once etched the notes to a song she wrote on her staff.”
“Is there a limit to weapon material, or anything that those who wish to place a blade on their focus should keep in mind?” Silver Spear asked as he reviewed the materials in their respective containers.
“Remember that balance is key,” Clover told them. “Magic exists in balance and must always maintain that balance. Darkness must shadow light, chaos must disrupt order, life must end in death. Be sure to keep the organic and inorganic properties in a reasonable ratio of each other. It need not be a perfect match, but the closer the better.”
“So if we don’t have anything personal we can think of at the moment, can we have some time to find our personal addition?”
“I have sectioned off the next three days to build your focus. That is how long you have to find what best represents you,” Clover said sternly.
Vital Spark nodded his head in understanding. “Thank you.”
“Understood, Milady.” Silver Spear answered.
“Anypony else?” she asked, looking around. “When you are ready, approach me about your gemstone.”
“So we get to pick any of these items?” Vital asked. “With the exception of the gems, I mean.”
“You have to pick these items, much like a swordsmith should choose his own steel. This is very important, as this focus will shape your career.”
Vital nodded. “Alright. Let’s get to work, then.” He approached the container and began to sort through the various bodies. “You guys coming?”
The others began sorting through possible choices quietly, all of them holding a look of intense concentration. Eventually, Vital Spark came across an old, gnarled-looking staff. The wood was a dark, dull grey with a mid-sized shaft that shone with a silvery sheen when the light hit it right. At its crown, a series of knot-like protrusions curved out like spinning petals. “Not sure if I like the color, but the weight feels about right,” Vital said as he swung experimentally.
“It’s ironwood,” Clover explained. “Strong, light, and flexible. That's a good choice for a staff shaft.” She nodded.
“What did you pick, Silver Spear?” Vital asked.
Silver Spear looked at the staff on the table. “Well, I got two of the items finished. This wood is the same material used by the Equestrian Military, and I have my ornamental spear head my father gave me as a gift. I’ll be using that to add a piece of me to it.”
“Awesome. I’m afraid I don’t know what I’m going to do for my personal touch yet, but at least I can get the gemstone for it. I’ll figure something out back at my room.”
Silver Spear smiled warmly at Vital Spark. “We have three days to plan. I think the first day is to gather materials. The tough part’s going to be crafting it. Still, good luck, and be warned, I’ve heard the focus can change as the Unicorn does.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” Vital nodded. “So, should we see about our gems, then?”
Silver chuckled. “Why don’t you go up? I’ll be right behind you.”
“Um, okay,” Vital said uncertainly as he approached the bin of gems in front of Clover. “So uh … how does this work exactly?”
“Put your hoof on the array,” Clover said, gesturing to a small chalk drawing that had been inscribed on the bin with a series of runes and magical insignias. Vital hesitantly did so.
“Now what?”
“Concentrate your magic and let the spell do the rest,” she told him.
“Okay.” Vital spark closed his eyes and his horn ignited. ‘Don’t mess up, don’t mess up, don’t mess up,’ he repeated over and over in his mind.
Then everything changed. A golden light slitted vertically in his mind's eye, then burst open, consuming his vision. Suddenly he was very small, floating in the air, a tiny wisp amongst planetoids. The giant spheres shone all around him in every color imaginable and numerous combinations. As he floated amongst them, he found himself brushing against one of the larger ones. It was clear and bright, amplifying the colors of those around it, but when he touched it, a chill ran down his spine. He saw battles, charges, combat, and bravery midst utter terror and the certainty of demise. Still, despite that positive quality, it felt wrong, and so he shied away from it and carried onwards.
The next planetoid he visited was calming and blue like water. When he brushed against it he found himself in a sea of scrolls, books, and other forms of knowledge. Generals were asking his opinions on tactics and fortification. Still, this too felt wrong and he detached from it. He visited many other planets: the fires of innovation, the tranquility of honor, the gold light of love, but they all felt wrong, until, finally, he felt a pulse.
He was drawn to it like a moth to a flame. Galaxies seemed to blaze past him until he stopped before a large white sphere. It burned with heat, but unlike the others, it was welcoming and warm: a kind, embracing heat that drew him in. Upon contact, he found visions of himself giving gifts to those in need or downtrodden, bringing light and happiness to others. Memories of love given and expressed in the form of service and blessings, hugs and handshakes, words of wisdom through loving advice and listening, surged through his mind. For the first time in a long time, he felt a surge of happiness the likes of which he had not experienced in many a year. This felt right. This was who he truly was. He would give all he could to those in need. He would continue to be honest, faithful, loving and true. He embraced the warmth and in an instant found himself back in his body before the box of gemstones. A large white pearl bobbed gently in his magic.
“... What was that?” Vital asked as he removed his hoof from the spell array.
“That was your core finding what best represents it,” Clover said. “I know it can be a little disorienting, but it’s the best way to make sure you get the best stone.”
“Oh.” Vital looked at the gem. “Well, I guess it kind of fits. I can be pretty fragile, just like this pearl is.” He chuckled. “But I can be pretty tough when I need to be, I suppose.”
“You were molded with love and careful shaping by your parents. Because of that, you reflect the gentle nature of their love by being giving of yourself to others.”
“Aww shucks, when you put it that way …” Vital blushed violently as he stepped aside. “Thanks, Clover.” He picked up his staff shaft and smiled.
“Use it well. The pearl is capable of great things when utilized correctly.” Clover smiled at him. ‘Especially considering I never placed a pearl in that box in the first place,’ she thought to herself.
Hammer Strike grinned as he looked around New Unity. Fel Jade and her support had left, Rarity was up in her room working on some design requests that the troops asked for. Morale was high with the leaving of Fel Jade, and for a change, today felt like it was beginning to get better.
He gave a sigh of relief as he stretched his neck, giving a few cracks. He thought to himself on a place to practice with a new weapon. He had time to spare, paperwork was finished, all of their equipment was up to his standard, and he could do what he wanted.
“Hey Hammer Strike,” a familiar voice broke the silence. “What are you smile’n like an idiot for?”
“I feel better. Fel Jade is gone, Rarity is here, morale is up,” he replied. “I feel almost relaxed.”
“Ah, well, I got some bad news fer’ ya,” Demolition Grenado said. “Some other pony just came here from Canterlot, he calls himself Typhoon or something like that, some type of windstorm.”
“Hurricane?”
“Aye, that’s the one.”
“What do they want?” Hammer questioned. “And do you know which Hurricane it is?”
“I dunna’ anything about these Hurricane ponies, but he says he’s got some business with ya. I think he wants a fight.”
“I wonder if he wants to break the record…”
“Should I let him in or kill him? Cause Charge’s got this new sword he wants to test out…”
“No killing Canterlot ponies unless they are of serious threat. As said, I don’t want to deal with the outcry from the other nobles of Canterlot.”
“Fine,” he growled.
“Shall I cancel the order of ‘Celestia’s Beard,’ Grenado?” Hammer Strike questioned, his tone hinting his warning. “I heard you and Charge were looking forward to trying said rum.”
“... Yes, sir,” Grandao relented before storming towards the gate. “Hey, Charge, put your eyelander away. Boss says ta let him through!” A few minutes later the sound of the gate opening echoed through the fortress.
The Pegasus that walked into the room walked with the typical high born stride and wore a red military cape draped across his back that hung limply, though still gave the impression of grandeur and toughness. A black visored cap sat on his head to keep the sun out of his eyes. His Steel Battleship Grey coat and wings contrasted with his yellow and black streaked tail and mane. He removed the dark sunglasses to reveal angry grey eyes as he looked around the compound. He gave a polite, albeit curt nod to the guards around the courtyard. “I am Storming Hurricane, and I‘m here to challenge Lord Hammer Strike of New Unity to a Timed Duel, if he is bold enough to face me.”
‘Not even two sentences in and I’m sure a majority of the personnel here already don’t like you,’ Hammer thought to himself. “Any other terms you want for the match?” he asked.
“Hoof to hoof, I’ll be armored and you won’t. We’ll make it like the old stories. I last three minutes, I win.”
“Don’t want any handicaps to help you?” Hammer shrugged. “So be it.”
“Don’t need it,” he answered with a smirk.
“Come on, to the sparring area.” Hammer Strike led him, followed by a small group of guards as bits passed between hooves.
Hammer Strike entered the ring. Storming Hurricane entered a little later, having changed out of his cape and visored cap. He now wore light Pegasus Armor that covered his entire body. What few places were exposed had been been covered with chainmail to protect his flanks. His wings encased in armor with a blade on each feather. He had a helm with the visor up to allow him to look at the Earth Pony. “When this day is done, I shall return home to inform the High Duke Hurricane that his stories are just that. Stories.”
“...Yeah. Sure…” Hammer Strike gave his famous flat stare. “Are you ready?”
Hurricane lowered his visor and stood defensively, ready for attack.
“Grenado, time it.”
Grenado opened his muzzle to count only to let out a long loud belch. “One, go!” He shouted before flopping over.
Storming Hurricane took to the air like a speeding Wonderbolt. He stood in the air just for a moment before diving to the ground, skimming and leaving a dust wake as he punched Hammer Strike in his left shoulder before arcing swiftly back up into the air. To those spectating, it was akin to watching a shining metal streak start in the air, race along the ground, hit Hammer Strike, and speed away over and over again. At last the streak stopped, hovering in the air with the sun behind him. Storming waited a moment until he had Hammer Strike’s attention. He grinned in triumph as the Pony lord squinted in the light, then he dive bombed straight down, for a crushing blow to the back.
Hammer Strike kept his eyes on Storming as he dived down at him, waiting for just the right moment. As soon as he was within ten feet, Hammer quickly took a step back and stood on his back legs. Storming was within a foot of him now, his armored back visible as the pegasus desperately tried to change his trajectory before it was too late. Unfortunately for him, it already was. Bringing his hooves forward, Hammer Strike planted one at the base of Storming’s wings and the other along the wings themselves. There was a sudden pop before Hammer pushed against his back, using Storming’s momentum to slam him into the ground.
The impact kicked up a large amount of dirt into the air, covering the two. A few moments later, it cleared, revealing Hammer Strike standing before a small crater. Storming lay on his belly in the bottom of said crater, his head moving slightly in a circular motion as his eyes swirled in his head. He let out a low moan. He was dazed, definitely out of the fight. Still, he wasn’t unconscious yet, which was a feat in and of itself.
“Congrats, you lasted twenty-six seconds and you’re still awake,” Hammer commented, looking down to Storming. “The fight’s over.”
“But grandsire, how can an Earth Pony hit so hard?” Storming asked, his voice slurred and plaintive as a foal’s.
“There you are!” A harsh, grating voice snapped from the air as another Pony, older and a little more hawkish in the eyes and nose snapped. “I am Lighting Hurricane, leader of the Hurricane clan and I demand access to tend to my grand colt. No matter how insane he may be.”
“Lightning, good to see you again,” Hammer commented as he looked to said Pegasus.
Lighting Hurricane quickly landed and gave a military salute to Hammer Strike. The Ponies around were shocked at how well his name matched his body, from the stormy electric orange eyes to his grey coat that resembled a Storm Cloud, along with a black mane, streaked with yellow highlights like bolts of lightning. Even the cutie mark he had displayed on his flank bespoke his name: two crossed lightning bolts surrounded by a tornado. He looked to Hammer Strike. “I don’t recall the old stories stating that you left your opponents with dislocated limbs. Did you at least help set them after the fight?” As he got closer to the ground, the troops eyes widened even further. Lightning was almost as tall as Big Mac, and with wings to match.
“Depended on who I fought. If you really want me to, sure, I’ll help the poor colt out.”
“Please do, because I am not going to trust some wishy washy Canterlot doctor who hasn’t so much as cracked his books on Pegasus anatomy. Do you have any idea what that could do if his wing joint pops out again midflight?”
“I swear, medical books in the past gave plenty of information on this, how can doctors in a well funded environment not know this stuff?” Hammer questioned as he walked over to Storming, preparing to place the wing back into place.
“Oh if we were in Cloudsdale I would trust, but it seems that the “best” doctors are Unicorns. I swear, the Pegasi can be nurses, but it has to be some Unicorn who gets to be the healer and they don’t even know what they’re doing!”
“You’re telling this to someone who neither has wings or a horn.” Hammer commented as he pushed the joint back into place with a pop, resulting in Storming crying out in pain.
“Yet you set the Hurricane’s wing in the past. How many times? How many times did you fix the wings of a soldier under your control?” He ignored the scream. “I trust you more than any of those doctors. I am pushing to allow Pegasus Doctors to practice, but certain noble circles are finding it offensive. The Unicorn nobility seem more and more out of touch with each generation.”
“A little,” Hammer Strike said, dusting off his coat. “To be honest, I trusted the doctors of The Third Gryphon War more, and their medical standards were out of date or dangerous. Doesn’t help that even Celestia struggles to heal me as well...”
“Well,” Lighting began. “Shall we adjourn for some tea while the nurse on the edge of the field tends to my grand colt.” He smiled broadly as his eyes glinted predatorily. “I’d love to discuss some tactics, and maybe a few good lessons to teach young Storming here about how actions have consequences. A smack on the hoof seems a bit too light of a punishment this time.”
“Hah, you thought I was going to let him off for this? Colonel Hurricane would have stuck around due to both being injured, and he might have bet a few times that he would beat his time and didn’t.”
“Then shall we discuss where he shall room?” Lighting Hurricane asked, chuckling darkly.
“Room next to the forge. Who needs sleep anyways?”
“Those of us who aren’t immortal gods of war and death?” Lighting responded with a chuckle. “But I think at least have the weekends be military hours.”
“I thought you didn’t want to go easy on him.” Hammer Strike grinned.
“I’m not. He’s not going to be in Canterlot. He won’t be able to sleep in on the weekends anymore either.” He sighed. “In a way, I envy him. If I was younger, I’d be volunteering to train here in a heartbeat.”
“You’ll have to tell me more over tea,” Hammer Strike commented as he gestured him towards the entrance to New Unity while the guards lifted the near comatose Storming to transport to the infirmary.
Fizpot huffed and buzzed his wings in annoyance as Lunar Fang placed Moon River, his master and source of confliction within his mind in the carrying sack that had been placed on his side. “Yes, Mistress,” he muttered forlornly to Lunar Fang. He couldn’t help but feel the nourishing love the foal gave him: unfiltered, pure, the kind that only a baby could have. He could feel where his horn broke itch as his body repaired himself, causing a sense of fear to grow. He was without a hive. After three days of being unable to report, the queen had severed his link.
“Now, Fizpot,” Lunar Fang started in on another lecture, “tonight, seeing as Moon River is starting to sleep a little longer,” did he note a hint of disbelief in the mistress’ voice? “you are going to be taking her to meet with Me-Me’s hive. It is your choice whether you want to join with her or not, but she knows that your role, no matter what, is guardian for Moon River until Pensword returns home, at which point I am using first wife law of the herd to make you Butler for our household.”
Fizpot’s face contorted in horror and confusion. Butler, that was a coveted infiltrator’s role, and here he was being assigned it? What was this mare thinking?
He was drawn away from his thoughts as Moon River burbled and giggled yet again. She had been on the verge of speech for quite some time, a feat at which he was truly amazed. Only hatchlings could mature so quickly. He frowned. This family was by far the strangest he had ever encountered and here he was, right in the middle of it.
“Thinky!” He heard a cry of joy from Moon River and he sat down and lightly hit with a soft toy. That word brought him away from his musings long enough to realize that he was worried. He was actually worried. This was not the queen’s worry, but his own. He felt emotions, independent thought not guided by any Queen. He looked down at Moon River as he desperately tried to grasp at anything left of his old life. “My ... queen?” He asked, confused. Moon River made a sour face and blew raspberries at him.
Lunar Fang stared in shock at this situation, but quickly regained her composure. “I think Duchess would be fine to use.”
“As you wish, mistress.” he looked down at Moon River and smiled awkwardly, showing his changeling fangs. “As you wish, ... my Dutchess.”
Moon River giggled and cooed, baring her fangs in kind with a childish smile. “Vampy!” She cried, giggling as she bounced herself in the pouch. “Vampy!”
Fizpot sighed. It seemed a nightmare form he had used to scare foals as a means to become the rescuer had become this foal’s favorite shape for him. He closed his eyes and green fire erupted around him. Unlike the attack drones, his flame was cool to the touch and burned nothing, yet what emerged was a dark black leathery-winged creature with a blood red moon silhouetted by a bat for a cutie mark. Fizpot opened the wings for the foal as hypnotic red eyes glowed on the undersides of the membrane. He smiled, showing his much more prominent fangs. He cackled madly for added effect. He would have struck a truly frightening figure if not for the fact he was wearing a pouch holding a Thestral foal who was laughing her head off with childish joy, waving her hooves around trying to boop his nose.
Avalon stared out the window, pondering as the ship passed silently through the clouds. The Die Kling was certainly maneuverable, and apparently very good at stealth. She sighed as she held on to her focus.
“Beak for your thoughts?” Jorund asked as he walked up behind her.
“I’m just worried about Grif. I mean, what if something went wrong? What if he’s hurt?”
“Then our job’s already over and they're all dead,” Cheshire joked. “It would take more than a flock of sparrows to take the boss down.”
“We’re not talking about a flock. We’re talking about three armies,” Avalon reminded her. “And we’re supposed to be the cavalry.”
“I suppose it’s a good thing Grif took the Winds Father out of this. Still, it would have been good to have the aid of the peop--” Jorund was cut off as a loud clang echoed through the air around and above Gryphelheim, another soon joined afterwards and another. Soon the sound of bells echoed throughout the city. “That’s impossible…. Someone get me a spyglass!” A few minutes later one was brought to him and he looked down below. “It’s coming from the cathedral. The people are rallying. They’re attacking Grask’s soldiers!”
“How?” Avalon asked. “I thought Grask had the senior monks in his pocket already.”
“You mean you haven’t heard the news?” Chesh asked, grinning like her namesake. “All bow before his humble eminence, Grothnir Cloudclaw The Humble, as chosen by the avatar himself, long may he speak for our beloved spirits.” She laughed as she shouted the words to the surprise of most present.
“When?” Avalon asked.
“Last night, after you went to sleep. He wanted to have one more duck in the row for us in case things went wrong. Grif said it was the fact that Jiraac Cloudclaw considers himself unworthy that made him perfect for the role.”
“I take it Grask isn’t going to be too pleased.” Avalon couldn’t help but smirk. Chesh’s grin was contagious.
“That was the icing on the cake.” Chesh laughed.
“Either way, it gives us a much better chance of getting through. Now, if we can just keep the skies clear, we’ll be halfway to the hardest point.” Jorund looked to Avalon. “How much can you do?”
“It’s difficult to say. I haven’t really been able to test the limits of my focus yet.”
“Ships incoming!” the look out shouted as numerous airships emerged from the cloud banks set on a clear intercept course.
“Well, it looks like you’ll be getting an opportunity to stretch your muscles,” Jorund noted.
Avalon looked grim. “I’ve never tried anything that large before. I’ll need Snowy if I’m going to do this. Can you outmaneuver them until I get back?”
“I flew this old bird through a wind tunnel as it was fightin’ with a hurricane,” the grizzled old crane-jaguar Gryphon at the helm said as he turned the wheel. “I think I can keep her in the air long ‘nuff for you ta get back here.”
“Thank you, Captain. In the meantime, Jorund, you’d better get whatever weapons this vessel’s got ready to go. I’ll meet you and your men out on the deck.” With that, Avalon left, flying out of the cabin and down in the the ship’s bowels.
“You heard her, gunnery sergeant, how's the ship stocked for ordinance?” Jorund asked another Gryphon. This one was a much smaller ocelot-gannet mix with a fierce look in his eye. He’d clearly seen battle as his left eye was covered by an eye patch and accented by a scar running down to his beak.
“We have forward mounted swivel ballistas and we have a fresh catch of lighting in the hull so we have a full stock of thunder harpoons,” the sergeant said. “I’m afraid this ship is old, sir. I don’t know what else we could throw at them besides the crew firing arrows.”
“We’ll make do, boy. Now get those harpoon guns up and running. We’ve got a blockade to run.”
Pensword looked out from the abandoned shop that he, Cosy, the Demon Damned, and fifteen of his own Dream Clan members waited for the signal. He took a steady breath. Three of his brothers were dead already, and he was doing his best to keep his rage in check. He paused as the bells began to toll through the city. He looked to his left. “Captain of my Damned, what is going on out there?”
“The Winds Father is rallying the people against Grask,” the Gryphon said, elated. “They’re fighting for the emperor!”
“Okay, first off, the Winds Father is dead, unless they had a successor designated from the start, so what is happening? Second, we should provide backup to those fighting Grask.”
“Yes, we should. And according to the law, it was the Avatar’s choice since there was no chosen successor. Call the charge, sir and we’ll follow your lead.”
Pensword took a breath before smiling widely. He let Matthew pick the charge yell. “OVER THE TOP, TROOPS!” He roared as he jumped through a broken window. His wingblades took out the head of an enemy Gryphon. Behind him, the others followed. The street was clear in a matter of moments. They turned and charged down the street to a courtyard and hit the enemy in the left flank as a group of residents fired arrows from the second story windows. Yet again the struggle was over in a matter of minutes.
The group rested for the moment around a damaged fountain. It was an ornate column with a bowl spilling four streams of water into a larger basin. Pensword sat on the ground with his men when a small Fledgling walked over holding a bowl of water to the group. He handed it to Pensword first, and while the commander blinked in surprise, he took the offering and drank from it gladly. Soon other children had surrounded them and were serving them while checking wounds. He heard a series of caws as a flock of Gryphonesses hastily shooed the children away with their wings. Pensword looked to his new Demon Damned. “Did you have to carve my cutie mark on your armor?” They heard the sound of blade and metal upon metal further on, but had been told to wait for the moment. He looked to the roof tops where six of his Clan Thestrals were scanning the area for a quick way to the Castle,
“We didn’t know your clan symbol,” one Gryphoness said. “It was the next best thing.”
“My clan symbol?” he asked, confused before looking to the his Thestrals. “That is something only meant for those born or fully adopted into a clan.” He looked at the chest plates. “Still, in pony society, from a thousand years ago, you are currently acting as if you will be the personal warriors of the one whose cutie mark you now bear on your armor.” He shook his head. “We shall discuss this later.” He stood up as a Thestral walked up to him. She handed him a map, then gave a nod before walking towards one of the exits. Pensword looked to the others. “Captain Kahn, stay with Cosy. Cosy… stay sharp and listen to Kahn’s advice.” He waited for the nods. As per his military training, he ordered that there would be no saluting in combat.
He looked up to the sky and watched as the Die Klein passed overhead on the way to the palace. “Double time, double time! We have to be able to reach that target and hit while the front lines are distracted by our allies in the air.” As he and his ragtag troops stood, other Gryphons emerged to join them. They nodded to him gravely. It seemed that while he was not going to command, Pensword was going to have camp followers to help lend power through flanking maneuvers. “To Defend the Nest!” he yelled, using a war cry he heard earlier from those that lived in this area. He wasn’t sure what this would do coming from The Demon, but for now, he pushed that thought aside. He would focus on securing the escape and retreat later. He was not about to allow someone like Grask to take the throne.
As they flew through, Matthew absently thought of his world and a strange country called Europe. While everything here was made of stone or carved from a mountain, it still reminded the human in him of the small villages in that continent that the Americans had to fight through during World War Two. He paused and mentally shot Matthew a look of absolute bewilderment. Humans had called two wars. Two total world wars. Astounding. He shook his head to regain his focus on the upcoming battle and prayed that his letter advising about the coup had reached Princess Celestia before Grask’s Equestrian plans could have a chance to start.
Princess Celestia sat calmly in her castle’s diplomatic chambers on a large cushion. A table had been set up for tea. She glanced at the rolled scroll that sat under her left hoof and smiled as the doors opened, heralding the arrival of the Gryphon ambassadors. These Gryphons were different from the last time.
“So, judging by your smug expressions and the fact you’re completely different from the others, I assume that there has been a change of power?” She asked as she casually took a sip of her tea, hiding her smug smirk. The three Grypons glanced at each other. “I have been on the throne for over a thousand years. I can tell when a coup has happened. Usually the faces change, the old faces are sent back to your homeland to be questioned. Either they join, disappear, or become an example for others if they hold to their old loyalties.” She set the teacup down. “What is it that this new Emperor wishes from Equestria?”
“His Holiness, Lord Grask, wishes for very few changes from the current accords. Equestria shall remain out of governmental matters. He also desires that once hostilities have ceased in the Empire, you would journey back to Gryphelheim to discuss matters to benefit both our nations, and possibly to bring your niece so that Gryphonia and the empire may establish peaceful negotiations,” the first of them, a tall crow-panther mix said.
Celestia set her teacup down slowly, then laughed jovially. “Ah, that old plot. I do admire the addition you made for Cadence, though. That one was new. However, if I recall, Prince Bellacosa is the Crystal Empire’s representative, and he is currently on a diplomatic mission. If the coup has not harmed him, I think he will do well speaking to Grask.” She laughed again behind a hoof. “Anyways, as I was saying, three times I have been invited to Gryphelheim after the end of the Third Gryphon War. And all three times, there was an attempt on my life. While it is exciting, it got old after the third attempt.”
“I have no idea what you are referring to, Princess,” the second Gryphon, an ocelot mixed with a robin said, shocked.
Celestia smirked. “Ah, well,” she took another sip. “Please, have some tea.” She waved a hoof towards them. “Naturally, I shall honor the accords. Equestria won’t get involved.” Relief washed over the Gryphons’ beaks. “Anything else?” She asked as she casually bit into a slice of cake, followed by another sip from her teacup.
“We have received word that Emperor Grask is concerned for the safety of the Commander, Pensword and his friend, the clan leader, Grif. He thinks it may be best if you request their withdrawal.”
Princess Celestia made a show of looking concerned. “I would love to do that.” She sighed dramatically, relishing the chance to be theatrical in front of new diplomats. “However, Princess Luna has Grif on assignment already, and while I could withdraw Commander High Duke Pensword,” she set her teacup on the table and stared the three Gryphons down. “It would leave poor little Bellacosa without any real protection. As you know, The Crystal Empire has already returned, and I would hate if anything were to happen to Queen Cadence’s little brother. If you think The Demon is bad, consider what might happen with an angry Alicorn big sister.” She leveled her eyebrows and raised the teapot to pour some tea. “Also, Commander Pensword is of the Lunar Court, so I don’t have as much control as you might think over him. That particular authority belongs to my sister, Princess Luna. Shall I shedule a meeting with her for you?”
A small tremor ran through the Gryphons. “No no, it’s quite alright, but you realise we cannot assure their safety,” the second diplomat said.
Princess Celestia calmly set the teapot down and took another sip from her teacup. “Oh, their safety, I have no worries about. Even the Gryphons of today are not the warriors of a thousand years ago. If anything, what I worry is if some Gryphon were to somehow manage a lucky shot, what would the families left behind do?” She let the question hang as the Gryphons put the dots together. They began to pale. “I am quite sure Grask knows that Princess Luna has returned. The Thestrals now have their own royal houses. And finally, the Gryphon Slayers have stepped out of the mists of time. My question, my dear diplomats, is simply this. Is your emperor ready for the storm to come if harm ever falls upon those three?” She placed her teacup down and grinned. “After all, I do have access to my Ghost again.”
The diplomats began to sweat.
They all paused as a scroll appeared in the air and landed in her magic. She opened the scroll. When she lowered it, her grin had widened. “Speaking of my Ghost, I think it would be wise for you to broaden your horizons as diplomats.” She closed her eyes and her horn began to glow.
Hammer Strike gave Lunar Fang the scroll in hoof. “I’m sure Celestia would be glad to know I finally finished her sword,” he said, gesturing to the sheathed greatsword on his back.
Lunar Fang nodded and walked out of the training room to send the message to Celestia. Hammer Strike could see that she was worried. No new letters had arrived from Pensword recently.
“I’m sure he’s fine, Lunar Fang. He’s too stubborn to die by Gryphon talons. They most likely hit a delay, something along the lines of challenges by Gryphons who think they can beat him in a fight, I bet,” he called assuringly.
She stopped at the door, turned, then glared at Hammer Strike. If the shield brothers were there, they likely would have flinched. “He would have at least sent a colored ink splotch if he was too busy. We have codes for a reason.”
“Do you want me to ask Death about him, to reassure you that Pensword will be fine?”
“Yes, that would be nice. I want to know if I’m going to have to mount a revenge campaign.” She answered, her tone level, steel in her eyes.
“Alright. Death, get over here, will you?” Hammer called out as said ‘pony’ entered the room through the walls.
“Yeah, what do you want?”
“Need a favor from you.”
“And why would I agree to help you?”
“Well, I could always give you a hard time when I do finally die.”
“...So, what was this favor again?”
“Is Pensword going to die anytime soon?”
“No.”
“Is he going to die in the Gryphon Empire?”
“No.” Death shrugged. “Is that all? I’ve got a war to take care of.” Hammer Strike nodded and death disappeared through a wall, muttering the whole time.
“See? Or in this case, let me say his answer to both questions. No,” Hammer Strike said, turning back to Lunar Fang.
Lunar Fang lingered in the room for a full second as she continued to lock her gaze on Hammer Strike. Finally, she turned around with a huff. “Fine, but, still…. I can’t help feeling upset without him nearby. I’m not letting him out of my sight when he comes back. He’s missed so much of Moon River’s growth.” She sighed, opened her mouth to say something else, then closed it, shook her head, and left to deliver the letter.
Hammer Strike turned towards the practice dummies in the room. “Well, Pensword, it’s a good thing I got the good couches,” he said, unsheathing the new sword. The blade was made from pure brightsteel, stretching forward to the length of a greatsword. The base of the blade held an engraving of Celestia’s cutie mark. A polished brass guard shaped like a ”U” faced down the length of the blade. A topaz was mounted on either side in the center of the guard while four rubies were mounted symmetrically at its ends to compliment the topazes. A series of swirls had been engraved, flowing from the topaz to the rubies. The handle was wrapped with a sky blue cloth down to a bright brass rounded pommel. The blade itself was double edged, straight as a razor, and as sharp as the winter wind.
He focused on the dummies as he took a stance, holding the greatsword at the ready. While the blade was thinner than his average greatswords, brightsteel had a weight to it that worked wonderfully. He took off, slashing diagonally towards the dummy on the right before switching targets and cleaving the dummy to his left down the middle. For a final blow, he lunged forward, shoving the blade through the third dummy’s chest.
He took a few steps back and brought the sword around to his right side, focusing his magic to heat the blade and ignite it, both to test its handling of heat and to try a certain attack he had in mind. When he felt he was ready, a flash of light filled the room as he brought the blade across all three dummies to reduce them to kindling.
Or at least he thought he was going to.
Instead of slicing through the dummies, he found himself in a new room with Celestia and three Gryphons huddling against the wall in front of him. The blade barely missed them.
He frowned as he extinguished the blade, sheathing it on his back as he looked to Celestia. “I was expecting you to teleport to New Unity, not bring me here. I was right in the middle of testing the blade. Need to be careful with that. Would you have wanted this sword’s first blood to have been these three Gryphons here?”
The three Gryphons were rather fascinated, not with Celestia’s Ghost, nor Celestia’s feet of magic, but rather the burned and cleaved chair that had been sitting just to their left.
Princess Celestia remained still and serene as Hammer Strike was teleported into the room, swinging for all he was worth. She had judged her mentor correctly. “It would have been interesting,” she stated cooly. “However, I am glad that you’re here. I need a place to hold these three until the situation in the Gryphon Empire settles. You see, a coup is happening, and they represent the new order trying to rise. However, due to some recent intelligence I’ve received, the old order is still somewhat standing. At the moment we have two governments in existence and I would rather not have them both under the roof of my castle.” She nodded to the three. “They claim to represent the new Emperor Grask. Would you be so kind as to put them up in New Unity?” Hammer Strike could tell there was another meaning to her words.
“...Detain them. Got it,” Hammer replied, undoing the buckle to the sword’s sheath in order to give it to her.
“Oh, I prefer house arrest myself,” she replied with a cold chuckle.
“Eh, house arrest sounds too comfy. You know my methods by now.”
“Yes, but while we have two ‘valid’ governments, we should treat them like that. If their government just so happens to fail, we can always downgrade them.” The diplomats squawked in indignation. “It seems they have stopped admiring your new taste of furniture.”
“So you want to have them around New Unity,” Hammer Strike said as he looked to Celestia. “Their futures, not mine.” He shrugged.
“Yes, but I think they should have the chance for a personal meeting with Commander Pensword,” Celestia returned
“They’ll have a blast. Literally if Demolition Grenado or Charge get to them first…” Hammer muttered, then shrugged again as he held the sheathed blade to Celestia. “Solaire is its name.”
Celestia widened her eyes as the implication of the name hit her. “This, this is too--” She looked up at Hammer Strike. “You are replacing the blade that I ruined in my own stupidity?”
“Obviously. I’m not going to let some smith here make it. I make equipment that will last for long periods of time with proper care. They build for one lifetime.”
“Well, I thank you for your generosity. Did you wish for me to send any Smiths for you to teach? That reminds me, how are Wrought Iron, Storm Hammer, and Steel Weaver? Are they doing well in New Unity? Has Pensword been about to bend Wrought Iron at all?”
“I’d enjoy teaching other smiths, but I find it difficult sometimes, so I’d prefer to keep it minimal who I’ll be teaching. As for the three, they have been working on maintenance with random gear that’s been damaged, as well as working on a few side projects that are needed. You know, nails, hinges, that sort of thing.”
“Well, they might be getting busy soon,” Celestia said with a sly look. “However, that is a conversation for another day.” She looked towards the three Gryphons. “Does Emperor Grask have any words for some of my nobility?” She asked them. As she spoke, she took the chair into her magic and started to repair it like Rarity would a torn seam.
“N-no, your highness,” the first diplomat squeaked out.
“So you three are going to stay in New Unity for the duration of your trip,” Hammer Strike said, carefully scrutinizing each of them as he sized them up. “I’m sure I can find some rooms. You ready to go immediately?”
“W-what about our things? we need time to retrieve our belongings,” one of them said.
“You’ve got three minutes to get your things and return here. Take longer and I will hunt you down and bring you to New Unity myself.”
Celestia smiled wisely. “Maybe five minutes? If you let Luna’s guards accompany them? I’d rather not get them in too much of a panic just yet. You do trust Luna’s guards, right?”
“Certainly. And if they try to flee, I have my methods for keeping them … grounded.”
The Gryphons gulped audibly. “We’d never even think of it,” one of them said weakly.
“You see, you say that now, but you seem ready to fly at the drop of a pin. And if you do think about it, I’ll personally make sure you can’t.” Hammer’s grin turned dark. “Am I understood?”
“Of course, sir!” another one said.
“Good, that’s what I wanted to hear. You’re being relocated under my roof. As such, you will abide by my rules. But don’t worry, I’m not a terrible host. I’ll make sure you feel comfortable.”
The Gryphons nodded in their terror as the Thestral Guards arrived to take them to their rooms.
Pensword looked up to the sky from his perch on an abandoned balcony. Before him, another battle was wrapping up as the citizens of the city rallied to rout the Emperor’s would-be-killers from a nearby plaza. Above, the Die Kling glided over the castle as flashes of light and gusts of wind redirected projectiles. Soon they would be able to storm the gates. He nodded once to a fellow Thestral, who proceeded to signal using his wings to hold a pair of flags. After a series of waves, the combined forces of the Thestrals and the Demon Damned took to the air and rushed the a blockade while ground troops kept the soldiers occupied maintaining the blockage.
“Uncle Pensword, how long until we get into the palace? Daedalus needs us,” Cosy said as he looked worriedly at the compound.
“Hopefully by day’s end.” Pensword paused as he processed what Cosy was saying. It felt so strange being called Uncle, even if he had asked the young prince to do so while they stayed in Gryphonia. “Stick with the guards on the ground. I’ll meet you on the other side of the blockade.” With that said, he roared as he took to the air and divebombed on the other side, taking out two more Guards. Much to his surprise, the Gryphons were pulling back. Pensword let out a harsh whispered curse. “They are falling back to the fortress. They are falling back to reinforce and strengthen the walls.” Something did not seem right. The air felt different, but he couldn’t put his hoof on what could be wrong. He watched as Cosy came up from the rear. Matthew was once again commenting on Pensword’s range of vision, which was strange. Pensword thought Humans were a miracle to have survived to become the most dominant race on Earth. Then he shook his head to clear it. He had to stay on task.
“Report,” He ordered to Captain Kahn as the Gryphon approached. “How much further can we move before we hit open air and we have to wait for the airship to support us?”
“We can take everything up to the compound’s outer courts. Thanks to Empress Warbeak the Third, the homes around the fortress were raised due to how her father was killed. She turned the front area into a mixture of gardens and paved streets for easy targeting in the event of a siege. We won’t have much in the way of cover once we get to that point.”
“Then take all the streets and houses up to the gardens. Position the archers to take up the windows on the upper floors and rooftops. I want those Gryphons herded into that plaza and then I want the front plazas to be contested.”
“Understood,” Kahn responded. He turned around and vanished into the crowd. Pensword sighed inside. This was going to be torture on these souls, but still, why follow The Demon? Hammer Strike, he could understand, but why him? He moved forward with purpose and felt pride in seeing the crowds open up for him. He did not know how the Gryphons would view him now, but he was going to stop this Civil War, pure and simple. He saw Cosy racing up to meet him, his expression grim. Pensword slowed his pace to let the War Prince reach his side.
“What next?” Cosy asked as he approached.
“We get to the front, and see what we have to do. Wait for the Die Kling to attack,” he answered. “We need them to draw the Gryphons away from the main body. I hope it starts soon.”
Avalon stood on the prow of the ship, her focus glowing as it had on the pier as she glared defiantly at the armada. Three had come within firing range and had already begun firing their harpoons as electricity arced from their holds and channeled into the projectiles. “Not this time, boys,” she said, smirking as she redirected the bolts to the ground where a large cluster of Gryphons had gathered in the courtyard of the imperial compound. “Keep em coming. There’s more where that came from!”
The Gryphons that were not taken out by the bolts scattered, breaking their defensive formation to avoid the suddenly deadly rain falling from above. The open ground became a kill zone as the ground forces below pulled still further back, slowly being picked off by well aimed crossbow shots in the area beyond the gardens. The enemy ships continued to fire as Avalon playfully redirected the attacks.
And then she heard the hollow clunk echoing as numerous smaller ports opened on the three attacking ships. The sound of muted thunder boomed from within as the ships charged their thunder harpoons. Within moments a volley of the glowing electric blasts lanced towards her.
“Snowy!” The owl hooted and nodded as it squinted at the bolts. Raising both hands, a bright nimbus surrounded Avalon as she concentrated. A massive gust of wind blew from all sides of the ship, stirring the air around them as it compacted in front of them.
“What are you doing, Avalon? Get out of there!” Jorund shouted.
Avalon maintained her position as the familiar surge flowed through her body and her ears, blocking out sound. Sweat beaded her brow as a trickle of blood dripped from her nose. “You shall not pass!” Jorund’s eyes widened in shock as the lightning dissipated miraculously just before touching the hull of the ship. The newest invoker dropped to her knees as she took bolt after bolt, constantly shifting the air.
“How?” Jorund asked.
Gasping for breath, Shrial spoke. “By moving the right particles in the right places, I can negate the charge.”
“But--”
“No buts, Jorund. If that lightning gets through, we’re all dead, and the Emperor dies too. I am not about to let that happen.”
Avalon lay down, her eyes still glowing as blood flowed freely from both nostrils in her beak. As her strength plummeted and it seemed the pure exertion from the action would kill her, the wind picked up from the southeast, blowing hard and fast. Suddenly, as a brown blur slammed into the side of the enemy ship, one question echoed through the air.
“Who?”
From the east, owls came like a feathery horde: burrowing owls, great horned owls, snowy owls, owls of every species, size, type, and gender swarmed in, bringing their full wrath against the ships and their crews. At first it seemed fruitless, but soon the ships groaned under the offensive, veering off course as the Gryphons on deck desperately tried to chase the birds away. Their efforts proved unsuccessful as the birds looped, gouged, and dodged, escaping arrow, bolt, and blade while still dealing damage.
Further away, advancing ships were beset by pigeons, turtle doves, eagles, falcons, and all manner of birds in pairs, viciously tearing into anything they could lock talons with. The air around the Die Kling was thick with very angry birds.
From the Ground, Pensword and Matthew both looked up as one. The only thing Pensword could get from Matthew’s jumbled thoughts was something about a film and a book called The Birds. Pensword, on the other hoof, was grinning widely as he waited for the birds to descend upon his enemies. This was a boon, and he was not going to squander it. He would attack once the Gryphons lost track of his own forces.
“Brunhilda, you need to get Daedalus into that safe room,” Grif roared for the sixth time as the west door to the throne room thundered under the force of a yet unseen battering ram. Grif and the remaining forces stood lined against the door, bows drawn and arrows nocked, ready to take out anyone they could find. Tables and benches had been set up into makeshift barricades that would hopefully slow the enemy down enough to make the stand count.
“I’m not going anywhere, Grif, not this time. That carrion eater’s going to pay, and by the Winds, I’ll be there to see it,” Daedalus said, his eyes narrowed to slits.
“I’m sorry, your majesty, but not this time,” Brunhilda said as she pounced on Daedalus, causing his legs to buckle beneath him. A few moments later, the rest of the guard had surrounded the pair and pinned the emperor to the ground. Then, as Daedalus let loose a stream of curses, struggling the whole while, his faithful guard carried him into the safe room once again and pulled the door shut behind them.
“Gryphons of the empire! In a few minutes Gryphons loyal to that abominable traitor will pour through those doors and we’ll be leading the most important stand in the history of Gryphonkind,” Grif said as the doors battered. “Gryphonkind. That word should hold new meaning for all of us today. We can’t be consumed by our petty differences anymore. We will be united in our common goals! Perhaps it’s fate that I should be leading this stand against a force that has shaped our culture since the beginning, and once again I will be fighting against our brethren. Only this time, I’ll be fighting for our emperor, for freedom from the tyranny of a traitor, from oppression and persecution, and for our ideals.” He paused to let his words sink in. “We fight for the future of our very species! Should we win today, this will no longer be known as an ordinary day, but as a day that Gryphons declared ‘We will not stand by and let you murder our emperor! We will not let him vanish without a fight! He will live on! He is going to survive! Today, we celebrate our Affirmation Day!”
The Gryphons around him cheered loudly as one. With a loud crack, the mighty doors gave way and Gryphons poured into the room. Many faced instant death by the deadly shafts of Grif’s warriors. Bladefeathers and imperial guard attacked as one. Grif looked into the horde as he fired his own bow.
“Hurry up, Pensword,” he whispered. “I don’t know how long that speech will hold them.”
Pensword pressed his equine body against the carved stone of a raised flower planter. He looked to the others around him. The Civilians were behind them, but this time he was leading with more battle-hardened troops. He jumped up and over the raised planter and perched on a tree limb. Looking to the others, he motioned with his right wing. Three arrows flew and killed the guards. The birds, it seemed, had their talons full enough just dealing with the airships. Half of the troops had taken flight to try and dislodge the feather friends. Once in awhile, a dead Gryphon would land on the ground from the air with eyes clawed shut and a shaft to the vitals.
Pensword took a breath. This was it. “Forward! On to Victory!” he roared as they charged the open ground, heads down as they let their armor take the brunt of the damage. They charged through the blockade and in moments were engaged with the troops at the gates. It was a bloody affair, and Pensword was starting to feel they would win when the gates suddenly boomed open. Row after row of Gryphon filled his sight, at least two hundred or more. He set his teeth and wings firmly. He would die in this land if necessary. And the odds certainly seemed to fall that way. He let loose a bellow and charged headlong into the fray. If he was to join his family, he was going to take as many of these Gryphons as he could with him.
“Pensword!” Cosy cried.
Pensword turned his head towards the cry as he slammed a wing into the beak of a Gryphon. “Yes?” He shouted.
“Look out!” As Cosy slashed his sword through yet another Gryphon in the enemy ranks, he watched as the fleet of Gryphons swarmed around his beloved Uncle.
“Thank you, Cosy, watch your eight!” Pensword yelled as he slashed another Gryphon in the jugular. No matter how many he killed, more still came. Their accursed flock was endless. He struggled to catch his breath, but he was finding it more and more difficult. He could see his troops being surrounded and cut off. A sudden calm descended as he fought, alongside a strange sense of resolve and acceptance. “You may take me, but you will only seal your fate and your doom.” As he said this, he amputated another Gryphon’s arm with his wing blade, only for his legs to buckle under the pressure of continually raining blows. There wasn’t even time to take to the air. No room to maneuver. He was trapped.
Cosy turned from his most recent kill and his face became a mask of horror. “Pensword!” he shrieked.
“Stand your ground!” Pensword barked. “Do not try to get to me! Keep your ground and watch yourself, do you hear me, Cosy? You are a War Prince. Act your part!” Cosy’s adversaries paused at the mention of the title, their blades hesitating. Cosy took advantage of the gap to strike, cleaving their heads from their bodies in one broad swipe. Pensword, on the other hoof was hit in a leg and sagged as blood poured freely from the wound. Despite the pain, he still worked at keeping the Gryphons at bay. All the same, he and his enemies both knew he was on his last legs. They could smell the blood, the weakness. The Demon would soon be no more.
Cosy screamed. “Somepony, anypony, HELP HIM!” Tears flew like mist from his eyes as his horn flickered to life. The bracelet hummed and sparked, glowing a brilliant purple tinged with blue as a series of crystalline chimes sounded from its depths in ascending harmony, filling the battlefield, passing beyond the throng and into the throne room.
Things were going badly. At first, the Gryphons had seemed to be holding as the arrow line kept the invaders at bay, but soon the numbers began exceeding the arrows they could fire and they had been forced into close ranged weaponry. Grif dodged as a blade hit a pillar where his neck had previously been while he impaled the Gryphon in front of him with a scimitar and kept going. Several of the Bladefeathers had been injured, even more of the guards, and two of them were dead. The defenders found themselves constantly pushed against the saferoom door as the enemy gained ground. Grif could see signs of fatigue starting to grow around them. Things were looking far too grim.
Then everyone stopped as the sound of crystal bells tolled through the air. Where were they coming from? What trickery was this? Then came a sound the chilled Grif’s blood.
“Activation code received. Primary Directive: Protect User. Secondary Directive: Assist User Allies.” The sound of crystal cracking and breaking filled Grif’s ears, followed by heavy feet stomping as the crystal statues, eyes alight, charged through the barricade, slashing any that got in their way with their crystal swords. Their eyes glowed a fierce blue as they barreled through the enemy. Grif barely had the time to dodge as they cleared the way through the hall.
“Oh, Winds, I pray they’re fighting for us,” Grif murmured as he watched them barrel past. “Get the emperor! This may be the distraction we need to get out.”
Pensword gasped from a hit at a joint and he rolled with it, punching his attacker in the chest with his armored hooves even as he felt the limb pop out of its socket. Then he rolled. He felt the pain as his armor pinched his wing joints, having been deformed at last by the constant rain of blows. He didn’t know how bad the injury was, but he knew he wouldn’t be flying anytime soon. He barely blocked another blow with his other wing. He had lost track of all his troops. Even Cosy was lost in the din and noise, yet he still continued to fight. If he could kill just one more Gryphon, that might make all the difference. He heard a cry and from a balcony above as eight Gryphons landed on him, pinning him to the ground. He couldn’t tell if the cries were an attack, or made out of fear. Either way, he was pinned, and the only saving grace he had now was that there were too many Gryphons on him to allow a killing blow. He fought, his breath caught in his chest, and he wondered why his family was still not visible to his eyes. He felt depleted. Everything was gone and he couldn’t even move his head. Maybe playing dead would buy more time.
Just as things were about to go dark, the pressure suddenly lightened. He heard several heavy tromps and absently wondered what it could be. He prayed for Cosy’s safety, even in his last moments of consciousness. There was a loud screech like the sound of nails against a chalkboard as something very large and heavy tore into the room. Gryphons screamed in terror and pain as the sounds of commotion hit Pensword’s ears. Before he blacked out, he felt himself being lifted up and set somewhere solid.
Cosy ran for all his legs were worth, his sword a blur of motion around him as he sliced through the ranks. But even with his natural talent, there were too many between him and his goal. He watched as Pensword fell beneath the cowardly onslaught before a fully grown Gryphon obscured his view. The Siberian Tiger-Mockingjay blend sneered down at him.
“Well, well, well, what do we have here? You lost your parents, little Pony? Let me reunite you with them!” He shattered Cosy’s blade as he brought it up to block, leaving the young prince without a sword and completely open to attack. The stroke was coming too fast to dodge, and even if he could, there was precious little space in the throng of birds, Gryphons, and Thestrals. As time seemed to slow, Cosy shut his eyes, visions of his life passing through his mind as he recalled the Crystal Empire as he knew it, the battle for his home, playing with Pensword, training with Grif and the other Thestrals, all the way up to his time back here at the Empire. And now, now it was all coming to an end.
There was a loud thud, followed by the sickening sound of a blade cutting through meat and crunching through bone, then a clang, and finally nothing.
Cosy stood there, his body shaking in place. Was he dead? Was that sound the sword cutting into him? If he opened his eyes, would he look down to see his own body?
“Priority One: Protect User. Command Control Identified. User Secured.”
Cosy opened his eyes to see a towering, glowing purple crystal Gryphon in his face. “Wh--wha?” The statue lowered its head to touch the bracelet at Cosy’s hoof.
“Crystal Golem Unit 001 Awaiting Command.”
“Save Uncle Pensword!” Cosy said without missing a beat.
“Error. Command prompt fulfilled.”
“You mean he’s safe?”
“Affirmative.”
“Take me to him.” The Gryphon golem dropped to its knees as Cosy leaped onto its back, grasping its neck before it rose up onto all fours again and began to wade through the battlefield. “I’m coming, Uncle Pensword,” Cosy shouted as his new guardian struck left and right, decapitating and mauling interchangeably with talon and sword. Any swords that struck its sides bounced off with a bell-like ring. Soon enough, they had pushed through to where the other three golems stood guard around Pensword’s limp form. Cosy immediately jumped off and rushed to the Pegasus. “Uncle Pensword? Uncle Pensword, it’s me. Come on, wake up. Wake up!” Tears blurred Cosy’s vision as he struggled to revive the Equestrian commander.
Pensword groaned as he coughed and coughed again. He opened his eyes, then closed them again with a groan. At first Cosy thought that it was because of the light, but then he noticed the tears as Pensword started to cry. “I failed. I failed all my promises.” He sobbed. “You were not meant to die, Cosy. Not you. You are too young to have crossed over.” His body heaved from another sob, causing jolts of pain to pass through him as the wound throbbed.
Cosy didn’t answer, he just grabbed his Uncle as fiercely as he could, squeezing his neck in a nigh on murderous hug. Then he started to cry.
Pensword instinctively returned the hug and wept with the foal. He jerked his head up. “What?” he sniffed as he stared at an empty spot. “Well--” his cheeks went red. “That-- Um, sorry, mom.” He paused. “Right, right, no need to be sorry, just, wha--?” he trailed off as he finally noticed the four Crystal Golems. “Uh, Cosy ... what happened?” He winced as the shock began to wear off on the injuries he’d sustained.
“I don’t know. These statues from the throne room just came and saved us. They said something about a user and protection and, well, here we are. Oh, Uncle, I’m so glad you’re alright.” Cosy hugged Pensword yet again while the golems continued to stand in defense, deflecting arrow shafts with pinpoint accuracy.
“Right.” Pensword took another breath, the questions flowing like mad through his mind, but those could be asked afterwards. “Right now, we need to clear a path and get Daedalus out of here. So first, can these things protect us? Second, if so, are they on an energy level and could they be drained anytime soon? I would rather not rely too heavily on something that could stop working suddenly.”
“Power levels are at maximum efficiency. Units have absorbed ambient magic while in stasis to maintain basic function. All other functions had been suspended save observation and recording. You need not feel concern. Query. Permission to enter full engagement mode?”
“Full engagement mode? What’s that?” Cosy asked.
“These units have not gained permission to engage the enemy. Defensive parameters only. Chance of primary directive, 100%, chance of secondary directive, 1%”
“You mean you’ve only been protecting us so far? What can you do when you attack?”
“And what is this Secondary Directive?” Pensword asked, wondering why it was at a one percent.
“Secondary directive: clear imminent threats, minimize allied casualties, increase enemy casualties,” the lead crystal Gryphon explained.
“And who are your enemies exactly?” Cosy asked uncertainly.
The Gryphons’ eyes glowed and the band on Bellacosa’s hoof pulsed.
“Enemy: Grask Bloodbeak, rebel. Status: criminal. Known allies: Valerius of Clan Spear Flight, Cornelious of the Silvertongue Clan. Targets destroyed. All bearers of these royal emblems are designated targets.”
“And what about the Gryphons on our side?”
“They are not designated targets.”
“And you can tell the difference?”
“Units have stored over a millennium of data. Empathic link has granted us the most recent data and we have adjusted accordingly. Allies will not be harmed.”
“In that case, then I want two of you on attack mode and two to keep guarding Pensword and me.”
“Cosy,” Pensword began in disbelief. “Where do you need my troops?” He took a shaky breath. “Where do you need me?”
“I need you to hold still, Uncle,” Cosy said seriously. “You,” he said, pointing to one of the four golems, “put Uncle Pensword on your back and protect him. He can’t fly like this, and I don’t want him having to walk till he gets medical help. You,” he said, pointing to the second, “protect me. And as for you two, Change to secondary directive, but leave Grask for Grif.”
“Affirmative. Gamma and Beta shall stay behind to secure your safety. Delta and this unit, designation: Alpha, shall proceed with secondary directive. Permission to enter full engagement mode?”
In that moment, Cosy looked like a true general as his face turned grim. Nobody hurt his Uncle Pensword and got away with it. “Permission granted.”
Alpha’s and Delta’s eyes flashed ruby red before each opened their beaks, releasing a stream of energy at the nearby stone walls. Rather than being destroyed on contact, the stone seemed to be dismantled bit by bit as the light touched it. The resulting fragments of stone gravitated to the large crystal statues and began to clump together, glowing red with heat as they melted and forged together into large smooth plates that covered the golems’ legs, shoulders, and main body. The large articulated armor pieces all carried etchings that Bellacosa couldn’t make out and confused Pensword, but matthew recognised the circuitry burned into the armor for what it was. Holding out their clawed hands, stone formed into large spears with barbed heads.
“Full engagement mode activated. Beginning operation.” And with that the two rushed the hallway. Moments later, echoes reached Pensword and Bellacosa: the echoes of Gryphons screaming in terror.
Grif slashed forward, his scimitars flashing as he danced on the point of his formation. When the statues had come to life and charged through, it had separated and demoralized many of Grask’s troops. Grif had decided this was the time to push. He stood central, in front of Brunhilda and Daedalus while Bladefeathers covered the left flank. The remaining imperial guard covered their right flank and the V pattern they formed scythed through the enemy's lines as fast as they could. This was not to say it was easy, however. They were still heavily outnumbered, but the enemy was disorganized and scared, and Grif was going to take advantage of this while he could. “Daedalus, where exactly did those statues come from?”
“They’re made of crystal, and they came to life. Where do you think they came from, Grif? Daedalus said testily.
“Forgive me, I didn’t realise that the Crystal Ponies decided to make giant crystal Gryphons just after a war with the Gryphons!” Grif shot back.
“What did you expect? Our ancestors were raiders and scavengers after they lost the war. I was going to tell Cosy about them after we finished negotiations before all Tartarus decided to break loose,” he said as he fired an arrow into the opposing Gryphons without even looking. The shaft found its mark in an enemy soldier’s forehead.
“Yeah? Well you're already breaking a record for surviving one of these rebellions, so you may get to talk to him yet.” Grif would have kept talking but was cut off as the flow towards them became incredibly heavy. Only strangely enough, a majority of the Gryphons seemed to be trying to get around them. Grif was about to question what was happening when something large and purple hopped over their formation at incredible speed and chased after the fleeing troops. Grif wasn’t sure what it had been, but he wasn’t going to stick around to find out. The enemy was thinning out now as the Gryphons struggled to get away from the massive killing machine.
Grif stopped as they reached two more of the crystal Gryphons standing sentry, two familiar figures held within their care. “Pensword? Bellacosa? What’s going on?”
Cosy shrugged. “I dunno. They just came to help and they’re saying I’m their user, whatever that means. So they take orders from me and I told them to help thin out the ranks while these other two protect us. I’m not letting Uncle Pensword fight anymore till his injuries get treated,” he said, looking meaningfully at the Pegasus.
Pensword lay on the back of the second Crystal Gryphon, grumbling. “I can still order troops around, you know. I am not some invalid old guard who has lost all this teeth” He tried to sit up, but winced and moaned as he lay back down. “I wish Lunar Fang was here, she would know how to get rid of these kinks and snags.”
“I think it’s time for a tactical retreat.” Grif laughed dryly as he rubbed the colt’s head. “Run and live to fight another day, as the sages say.” He looked at Pensword. “If you keep trying to be tough, I will inform your wife,” he said warningly.
“... Very well,” Pensword grumbled reluctantly. “A tactical retreat. Just make sure the air is clear. I am going to have to be carried up in some way as not to destroy morale.” He paused. “If I ever do die, stuff me in my armor, prop me up, and send my body into battle.”
“None of that!” Cosy snapped. “Grif, is Daedalus with you?”
“I’m right here,” Daedalus said testily as he folded his arms. “Somebody decided to lock me up instead of letting me fight with him to escape. He casually threw a knife to his side, where it found its mark in the form of a Black Tip assassin. “I don’t know whether to be glad or angry that I don’t have magic right now, because if I did, I might do something I’d regret.”
“Can we be Grumpy together?” Pensword replied as he glared down at the crystal Gryphon while it killed yet another attacking Gryphon that was drawing its bow. “At least you can get kills in still. I feel like a coddled foal right now.” He paused before chuckling. “I have something that might cheer you up, Daedalus.”
“I just hope Avalon and the others are ready at the Gantrithor. We’re going to have to move fast and make this convincing,” Grif said, removing his cloak. “Daedalus, give me your cloak.”
Nodding, Daedalus removed his cloak and handed it to Grif as the pair exchanged.
“Uh, yeah … about that,” Cosy said, rubbing the back of his head with a hoof.
“Bellacosa, I just lost Kel’leam. Your next words had better be ‘I’m sure they're all waiting for us.’” Grif’s eyes glowed as he lifted his head. In an instant the whirlwind returned, only it was its usual clear consistency with none of the black from earlier. “OR SO HELP ME, SOMEONE IS GOING TO DIE!”
“What War Prince Bellacosa is trying to say is, that at the moment, Avalon is in the Die Kling above our heads holding enemy ships back, and…” Pensword’s ears twitched as they heard the sound of something hitting the ground. “Well, make that two ships remaining that would have been backing us up. She is controlling every single feathered beast in the air right now to attack and keep the sky clear. She is literally heading the air battle for our retreat.” He stopped to catch his breath. “Alright, I ... might need a doctor.” He knocked the head of the Crystal Gryphon. “Do you have a medical scanner in that noggin of yours?”
“Negative. And please refrain from touching Unit Gamma.”
“How can I refrain when I am laying on your back?” Pensword snapped. “What good are you if you soldier boys can’t do a simple medical scan? Even the greenest recruit can do field patch-ups.”
“Error. Unit was speaking of Unit Gamma’s head.
“Oh hell no!” Grif shouted as the wind picked up. “Everyone, head for the docks. Wear cloaks. Keep your bodies entirely covered. Avalon and I will meet you there,” Grif said before he charged out so fast they hadn’t realised he was gone until he was.
“You heard him,” Pensword responded wearily. “We move to the Capital Ship. Cosy, shall you give the orders?”
“With pleasure. Beta, contact Alpha and Delta. Tell them to return to primary protocols and escort us back to the airship docks. Priority protection goes to Daedalus, Pensword, and me in that order. You’ll work with Daedalus’ guards to protect us and help guard them, too as secondary um … secondary …”
“Assets,” Pensword supplied.
“Oh, right. Assets. Did you get all that?” Cosy asked the golem.
“Orders confirmed. Executing.” The statue’s eyes flashed. Its twin and the others further down soon replicated the action. As one body, three statues formed a retreating wall while Gamma continued within the circle, its sword held in a defensive stance as it scanned the halls for any approaching threats. Unseen and far away, Grask watched, seething as, for the first time in Gryphon history, an emperor was successfully evacuated from the palace during a coup d'etat.
Meanwhile, Grif charged out the courtyard doors. The air was still ringing with the sounds of battle and corpses littered the area, yet none of that mattered as he lifted his head to the sky, searching for any sign of his wife.
Feathers, roars, shrieks, and corpses fell from the sky like a snow storm at its peak. Blood spattered the streets and walls of the compound like a new coat of paint. Despite all of this, the legendary warrior could not locate his beloved.
“Winds damn it, Avalon, where are you?” Grif said as he futilely sifted through the aerial combat. Out of the hubub, a highly ruffled snowy owl broke through, making straight for him and letting loose a series of screeches and hoots while it spun its head in excitement.
“Where is she?” Grif asked desperately.The owl responded by circling him three times before swooping back up into the air. Grif wasted no time as he bunched his limbs. The powerful downdraft from his wings knocked over several enemy combatants as he shot into the air after the owl.
Avalon glared at her opponents, her chest heaving as she beat her wings. The opposing Gryphons were a conglomeration of Black Tips and Grask’s troops. She smirked as she slashed another’s wing joint, defiant to the end. “If you murderous scum think you can keep me from my husband, you’ve got another thing coming,” she said. The blood had dried on sides of her beak, though fresh wounds had been opened on her sides, causing her to become light headed. Her white fur had been dyed pink in various places as she continued to resist. Her wings were getting sore though, and the odds were not in her favor. She’d taken down seven on her own. Now she had to face the final three.
The soldiers sneered, impressed with themselves as they attacked, constantly swinging their axes and swords in a continual barrage. Their movements were erratic, the cuts they made shallow, but painful. She could tell they were toying with her, playing with their food essentially.
Avalon defended as best she could with the sword she’d taken from the ship’s stocks. Sparks flew as she took the blows, directed their force away from her body, and did her best to counterattack. Still, despite her skill, despite her training, her arms were flagging. Her muscles burned. It was only a matter of time until the exhaustion of spellcasting combined with her physical fatigue did her in.
“Avalon, dive now!” a familiar voice broke through all other sounds as she heard something traveling through the air. A large swirling ball of wind slammed into one of her assaulters before exploding in a vortex that proceeded to send his torso flying, without his head.
Avalon dived as a second ball blew past her, barely brushing her fur. She distinctly felt the air pass by as it barely cut the edges of her fur off. Looking up, she heard the air rush through her ears as her second attacker met the same fate as his brother.
“I’ve had a really, really bad day!” Grif shouted as the Black Tip swerved to see the very angry raven Gryphon standing there, a large swirling orb floating above his talons. “And now, you freakin platypus droppings had to get your beaks involved. I don’t care who hired you, and I don’t give a damn why. Just shut up, die,” he seethed as he charged the mercenary assassin. “AND DESPAIR!” He slammed the orb into the Gryphon’s chest with all his strength. The Gryphon’s back literally exploded, jettisoning the contents of his chest in a fine red mist. Grif didn’t even look at his victim as he turned to Avalon and dived to meet her, Grabbing her in his arms.
“Next time, just stay on the ship,” he told her. “I really couldn’t handle losing you, especially not today.”
“Why else do you think I was trying to get to you?” Avalon asked, smiling weakly at her husband. “This is really nice and all, Grif, but I’m really starting to feel tired. Do you think we could get Daedalus to the Gantrithor and leave already? I’m pretty much done.” At that moment, Snowy flew up and flapped around her mistress, hooting in a tone which, surprisingly enough to Grif, he actually understood as scolding.
“Women.” Grif rolled his eyes as he turned for the airship in the distance. The air hardened around Avalon in his arms, forming a type of barrier before the air in front of him converted into a wind tunnel and sent them hurtling to the ship.
Grask stewed in the now forsaken throne room as he looked upon his remaining staff. “WHAT. JUST. HAPPENED?” he shouted, a perfect blend of leonine roar and avian screech. He clutched a ruined scroll that numbered his forces. Of all the troops he had started with, only one hundred and fifty one now remained. He was going to have to split his forces in half to try and cow not only the population, but the religious factions now. He glared at his daughter, who had taken to dying her feline fur pink for some strange reason. Her clouded white eyes sparkled playfully in the light.
“Melody,” Grask began, “I want you to stay here with your claw picked guards and maids. This must stand as my command post.”
His daughter giggled “I told you this wouldn’t end well, father,” she said. “You doomed our family. You should throw yourself to Daedalus’ mercy before it’s too late.”
“And what? Be hung alive to be pecked and eaten by the ravens, crows, and vultures while you fall into poverty? I cannot. No, I promised you riches and grandeur. I will fullfill that promise, even if I have to tear this entire nation to the ground.” He stood up and began to pace. “And when I finish here, I shall make sure that Celestia pays for having her lackies muck about in other nations’ affairs. She’s gone too far this time.” He snarled. “When I get my talons on the archives, I want to look at every single treaty. I will ruin her if it’s the last thing I do.”
“No Gryphon force would ever take Equestria,” she said in an almost sing-song tone. “If you leave the palace to chase them, we will never meet again, father,” she warned.
“Then I’ll start eliminating her allies one by one. She can’t use that blasted sun spell if I target Zebrica, or the Minotaurs.” He turned to look at his daughter. “I will see you again. When I bring Daedalus’ head back on a pike. I will make you my heir and princess. Then the nightmares can finally stop,” he almost whispered.
“Beware the white wizard wreathed in cold with frosty hair that shines like gold.” She realised that last bit was new. It seemed to come to her when he mentioned Zebrica. Then she sighed. “My destiny and yours have no longer been synced since the day I was born, father.”
He paused and looked to his daughter. “But you shall be Empress,” he snarled. He paused and then continued with a mocking tone. “So, do tell me, dear, why won't we meet again, hmm? Am I to die at the hands of a flying Diamond Dog? Or maybe a magical satyr will suddenly pop out of the air and turn me into a newt.”
“The winds have decided that if you march out to meet the Avatar, you will not fly amongst the winds nor walk the earth, you will simply--” she crushed a beetle beneath her tail idly. “--be blotted out.”
Grask laughed. “Oh I do so love your little games. So, what then, Melody? How should I humble myself?” he asked, mimicking her sing-song tone. Yet in the midst of this, a glimmer of hesitation shone in his eyes.
Melody let out a long withheld sigh. “You would not listen if I told you, father. Go and do what is in your heart. I will throw myself to Daedalus’ talons when you're dead. He will be merciful.”
“Oh? Because his father was weak? Or was it because he is the opposite of the Royal family his family disposed of?” He snorted in derision. “When the time comes, I will hunt down the Gantrithor and claim it as my own. I was thinking of renaming it after your mother.”
“Mother never wanted this.” The pink Gryphon seemed to actually respond emotionally. “The empress was her friend and you slaughtered her. It was you who killed my mother.”
“Don’t you dare accuse me of killing my own mate.” He roared in anger. “Keep speaking like this, and I will disown you!”
“It’s too late for that,” she said, her voice suddenly growing cold. Her eyes hardened. “You have doomed your clan, but I will not suffer for your foolishness, Grask Bloodbeak.” An ominous wind blew through the room, swirling Melody’s feathers. “I call upon the Winds as my witness. Here and now, I renounce you and all who support you.” She pecked her talon before sucking some of the blood into her mouth and spitting at his feet. “Seek me no more, for I do not know you.” And with that, she took her leave without a word. The Gryphons growled, but parted reluctantly for her. It was ill advised to kill one like her, and the ancient laws protected one who renounced their line for twenty four hours.
Grask Roared and for a brief moment it seemed like he would tear his own daughter to pieces right then and there. However, just as he was about to, he dropped his claws and gave a mad chuckle. “No. Oh no,“ he whispered. “I will return an Emperor, and we can forget this whole mess. I’ll came back ruler. I’ll forgive you, my daughter. Your rash words will melt away in my love for you. For you. All for you.” he chuckled, his laughter slowly rising in a combination glissando and crescendo. Soon he was cackling madly as he slipped over the edge. He motioned with a talon. “Bring my main forces to me. My personal guard, WITH ME!” Fifteen Gryphons formed up around him. He turned to two of his underlings. “Divide the remaining forces and attack the Winds Father. Attack the council, the civilians, or whatever they are calling themselves. I want both of them cowed to my will when I return. You hear me? Cowed. Grind them into the dirt!” He began to cackle madly again as he turned with a flourish, his guards trading nervous glances as they followed behind.
“Live well. Rule better.” Grif grasped Daedalus’ wrist in his hand and clapped the other on his back. “Find a mate, sire a family, and be happy. This is my blessing. Take it with honor, my emperor,” he said, bowing his beak with respect.
The guard stared, their mouths agape. “Did he just…?” Brunhilda asked.
“I think he did, ma’am,” one of the others returned.
“I think you’re forgetting something, Grif Grafson,” Daedalus said as he lifted Grif’s beak with a talon.
“And what is that?” Grif asked him.
“The Avatar can’t be much of an Avatar without his tools,” Daedalus said as he pulled Vengeance and Vigilance from within Grif’s cloak. “Thus do I fulfill my duty and obligation to you and return that which is yours.” He smirked then. “And maybe, if you’re lucky, I’ll have forgiven you by the end of the century.”
Grif laughed as he took the blades, pulling out one of his stilettos. “It isn’t much, but this knife was forged by Lord Hammer Strike of Equestria. There are few smiths better for quality weapons. Take this as a gift.” Grif offered it to him. “This is my last one from the war.”
“I’ll take good care of it,” Daedalus promised. “And who knows, maybe one day I’ll be able to invite a delegation from Equestria without the Empire going up in arms.” He chuckled then. “But I get the feeling this meeting won’t be our last, Grif. We’ll meet again, I’m sure.”
“Then do not invite me,” Pensword replied with a laugh; however, his eyes were watching six figures as they stealthily snuck into the Gantrithor while Bellacosa walked up to the Gryphon Emperor.
“I’m sorry we didn’t get the chance to really get to know each other, Daedalus, but I’m glad I was able to help. I wouldn’t want your Empire to fall like mine did, not to someone like Grask. And not when you’re in charge.”
“Thank you, Bellacosa.”
“Cosy. Call me Cosy,” Bellacosa said as he smiled up at the Emperor. “Maybe next time I can invite you up to my house instead. I’m sure Cady and Uncle Shiney would love to meet you.”
Daedalus laughed. “Sure thing, Cosy. After all, we still need to discuss those trade agreements. And I’d love to see that crystal heart I’ve heard so much about.”
“It’s a deal. I’ll send you a letter when things get easier for you,” Cosy beamed.
Pensword waited for a moment. Two of his Thestral stallion guards propped him up. “Emperor, speak with Jorrund when you are safe on the airship. There is a list of six families that I would like to see compensated.” His expression fell. “Six of their children fell defending your life in the barracks.” He looked around quickly at the sudden sound of flapping wings, his body tensing. He relaxed as three eagles flew from roofs over their heads, then sighed tiredly. “Maybe in another decade or two we can hold a military exercise together.”
“I think it might take a little longer before my people are ready for that drastic of a change, but I’d definitely like that, Pensword. I think some of my troops would, too. I’ll make sure to notify the families of their loss. There will be much to mourn by the time this coup is finished.”
“Commander Pensword,” he corrected gently. “I am The Demon, after all. Still have to keep some form of decorum present,” he answered with a smirk. “Besides, I am far older than you.” He winced when he tried to laugh. “I had better go see the field docs. You take care. I do not want your ghost bothering me any time soon.”
“Yes, sir, Commander,” Daedalus said with a respectful, albeit playful, salute.
Pensword glared a moment at the Emperor before returning the salute as crisply as he could in his condition. “Very good. Maybe you can break this curse I have. Wars have a tendency to break out around me.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” Daedalus said. “Anyways, we should probably get going. If this plan is going to work, we’ll need to get as far out of range as we can. Thank you, everyone, for coming to my aid and to that of my people. We won’t be forgetting it any time soon.”
Pensword nodded and was guided away by the Dream Clan as they surrounded him and led him into the ship. Daedalus saw them smack one of Pensword’s hooves away from a sack with a disapproving look.
“Goodbye, Daedalus.” Grif sighed. “Brunhilda, the shield if you would?”
Brunhilda cradled the greatshield as she carried it across the gap to Grif. “Give him a place of honor. He deserves to be remembered. And put it some place where it can watch the sun set. He always used to like that.”
Grif embraced her gently for a moment before separating and hefting the shield. “When you are secure, if you could see that something is done with his body, I’d appreciate it,” he said. “Goodbye.” He waved one last time before boarding the vessel. He had only just gotten on deck when the gangplank began to raise.
“Grif, the ship’s ready to fly. We’ve been tending to the wounded and the Gryphons who are still able to work have been placed to man their stations. It’s been a little hard getting things together, but then again, nothing worth getting is ever easy.” Then she grinned. “Speaking of getting, where’s Kel’leam? I do believe he’s been avoiding me, and I need to catch myself a liger.”
“Chesh … you need to sit down.” Grif’s voice caught a bit in his throat as he looked at her face.
Chesh stared at Grif, the grin suddenly dropping as she looked to his side where the greatshield sat. The silence was deafening.
“Chesh--I--he--” a tear fell from Grif’s eye. “He’s gone, chesh,” he whispered.
Cheshire approached slowly, raising a talon and gently running it over the lip of the shield. “Tell me what happened.” There was no playfulness this time. The frisky, manic light that usually danced in her eyes had dulled to embers.
Grif told her everything slowly and in as much detail as he could recall. He made sure to recount Kel’leams last words directly for her. “I’m so sorry, Chesh. I failed you.”
She gently ran a hand over the shield. “‘For words unsaid and deeds undone,’” she repeated. “Oh, Kel’leam,” she crooned softly, “why couldn’t you just say it?” She turned to look back to Grif. “I … need some time, Grif. Let me know when Grask’s forces come.” She slowly hefted the shield up onto her back. Her legs trembled only slightly as she lurched forward, adjusting to the weight.
“Chesh--” Grif reached out toward the shield, but Cheshire shook her head, brushing his proffered hand aside.
“No, Grif, I can handle this on my own,” she insisted, shaking her head. “I have to do this for him and for me. Just make sure to get me when it’s time.”
“He was my brother,” Grif told her. “I miss him, too. If you need to talk, my door is always open.”
Cheshire nodded. “We can talk when we get back to Equestria. Right now, we have other things to worry about.”
“Send someone to me with three fresh quivers on your way down, okay?”
“Will do. Besides, I’ve got some preparations of my own to make.” She chuckled hollowly as she walked over and disappeared into the hold.
“Oh for the love o’ pete, Hammer Strike, tell me ye didn’t agree to host political prisoners now,” Demolition Granado shouted from the gatehouse. “Unless you got us some new target dummies, o’ course.”
“Demo, I didn’t want this in the first place,” Hammer Strike said with a flat stare.
“Usually when you don’t want somethin’ happening, it ain’t going ta happen,” Demolition Grandao pointed out as he signaled the gate to be raised.
“They need to stay alive for the time being, not dead,” Hammer replied, glancing at the three behind him. “Though I don’t know what’ll happen in the next few days.”
“Who needs to stay alive?” A female Thestral asked as she walked out of the gates. She paused and gave Hammer Strike a look. “Let me guess, they’re from the coup?” She was dressed in some rather intricate armor accented by more ancient designs.
“Yeah.”
“Where do you want them?” She asked with a sigh.
“Room next to the forge.”
“Ah. Any orders?” She asked as she pawed the ground nervously. “Because I would love to give them a nice space. Quiet, nobody to bother them. A lovely suite carved by Thestral hooves, just six feet under ground.”
“Alive,” Hammer replied flatly.
She frowned. “Well, how am I going to keep up with my mate?” She asked, “He’s having a fun time over there.”
“I honestly don’t know. We’ll see how our adventures go once we’re all together again.”
“Still,” she grinned, baring her fangs. “Do you three know who I am?” She asked, finally turning to face the three would-be delegates.
“Uh, D-dame Lunar Fang?” the central Gryphon asked.
“And do you know who my mate is? Who I’ve devoted my life to?” She stepped forward glaring aggressively as she asserted her authority and station.
“Com-commander Pensword,” the third Gryphon offered weakly.
She smiled. “So you know his other name, and what that means for me. Stay in line, be very polite, and you may just live long enough to see the return of our own diplomatic team.”
One of the Gryphons let out a groan of fear and anxiety.
Lunar Fang turned around and Demo caught the sly smirk that she hid from the three Gryphons. “I’ll make sure the rooms are ready, and the Gryphon Slayers are on the other side of the compound.” She looked up into the air. “Fox Feather, Report to my location.”
“Sir,” one of Grask’s lieutenants spoke up. “We’ve managed to get a view of the docks. The Gantrithor and the airship belonging to the avatar have taken off in their predicted courses. should we pursue?”
Grask looked at the document, and back at the twenty Gryphons in the room. “We aim for the Gantrithor. Let the Avatar leave for Equestria. What do I care for a bunch of cowards? They think they’ve won, so we’ll snuff out that hope now.”
“Very well, sir. The men have gone to secure airships. Should we send an advanced party to try and overtake them?”
“No, I’ll lead the charge myself. Gather twenty of our most skilled warriors. We leave immediately. Daedalus will be mine,” he growled.
“As you command, Emperor.” His underling said as they swiftly retreated.
Grask glared after the slowly exiting ship, a small grin creeping over his face. Normally, the Gantrithor would have been miles away by now. Fortunately, his spies had figured out how to sabotage the thrusters. The ship wouldn’t be able to approach anything close to the wing speed of a Gryphon soldier.
“Sir, we have reports of wind eddies around the Gantrithor. We believe that the Gryphoness from earlier is onboard with the Emperor. Shall we kill her for being a magic user?” one of the more ragged soldiers asked, an arm wrapped with a cloth and sling, partially soaked in drying blood.
“Why would the avatar leave her behind?” Grask wondered, then shook his head. “It’s not important, so yes. If you find her, kill her. No one leaves that ship alive. Do you understand?”
“Yes, my Emperor.”
“Is everyone ready?” he asked.
“Yes,” three Gryphons spoke up, “We’re ready for action, Emperor Bloodbeak.”
“Reverse V formation. I’ll take the back. Let's go!” he said, taking to the air.
Hammer Strike found himself shaping a few plates of armor, the recruits that they had formerly belonged to didn’t keep proper maintenance on their equipment. Hammer sighed heavily as he remembered talking to said recruits about how a mistake like that could well mean their death. The musical ring of the hammer drowned out practically all sound as the flames billowed, filling the forge with roiling heat. Yet despite all this, a single voice carried loud and clear over the work, piercing his concentration. The only voice that ever could.
“Hammer Strike,” Rarity called. “Do you have a minute to talk, dear?”
Hammer Strike toned down, doing minor shaping as he looked over to Rarity. “Yes? How are things?”
“Oh things are going positively swimmingly. I just wanted to talk with you about the arrangements.”
Hammer Strike hummed in question, raising a curious eyebrow.
“For the party.”
Hammer Strike blinked cluelessly, eyebrow still raised. He was still hammering the plate.
“Didn’t you receive your invitation? I got mine just yesterday.”
“Invitation to what?”
“Why, to the Grand Galloping Gala, of course,” Rarity said.
A loud clang sounded through the room as a cloud of dust blew out from Hammer Strike’s work area. The anvil and armor plate that he had been working on had shattered. After a moment of pause he turned towards her. “The Gala is that near?”
“Why it’s only about a month or so away. I’m surprised you weren’t keeping track. It’s only the most social event of the whole year.”
“I try to avoid the Gala, to be honest.”
“But why?”
“Because of other nobility.”
“We’ve changed things since the last Gala, Hammer Strike. It’s much more enjoyable to attend now.”
“I don’t know…”
There was a sudden flash of light and a scroll landed on the table next to them. Hammer grabbed it, opening it half way when a small golden ticket fell out, floating gently down to the ground below. “Celestia, I swear your timing is sometimes annoying.”
Rarity took the scroll from him to read.
Dear Hammer Strike,
I know you’ll likely see this letter as an annoyance, and before you try, the ticket is fireproof. Not even I could incinerate it, so there’s no way to “accidentally” burn it this time. I hope you are well, and I hope that Dame Rarity is as well. Frankly, I need a back up for some of my plans for this year's Gala. So, please, please come. I will even go so far as billing you for the catering if you want. Just please attend with Dame Rarity. I think Baron Blueblood is getting a little full of himself, and he needs to be taken down a few pegs, especially after what he pulled with Fel Jade’s little visit.
Looking forward to your arrival,
H.R.H. Princess Celestia
Hammer Strike frowned, giving a low growl before sighing. “I’m going to bring Steven. She’d better expect it.”
“Who’s Steven, dear?” Rarity asked with a small hint of worry.
“You’ll see when I get it. I have to send a letter to Celestia to get her to pull it out of storage.” He gave her a grin. “Long story short, it makes the Gala more… Interesting.”
“No maiming, dear, as much as we may want to throttle some of them.”
“Oh, you always know the right things to say.” Hammer gave her a smile.
“Can you hear this, then?” Rarity asked as she sidled up to her stallion, pulled his muzzle closer to her own, and proceeded to lock lips. Sparks flew around them, a mixture of azure blue and fiery orange.
Grif saw the Gryphons in the distance and immediately moved to stop a Thestral walking behind him. “Hey, can you do me a favor? Find Chesh or find a Bladefeather to find her and tell her it’s time.”
The Thestral mare nodded her head and turned around from the deck, heading back inside of the ship. She smiled as a familiar looking box came into view on the side of the ship with a horn-shaped mouth piece. She pressed a small button on the strange console and spoke into the mouth piece. “Would Chesire please report to the port side outer deck? Please report to the outer deck. Grif is calling.” She stepped back and sighed in relief that she would not have to be hunting all over the ship now.
She flattened her ears as an alarm blared from another speaker of the ship. She did not know what was going on, but alarms seemed to pop up a lot on this strange contraption. This was the sixth one she had heard, and all six had a different pitch and function, she supposed.
Grif took an arrow from his quiver, one of three. This arrow was longer than the others, fletched with one large grey Gryphon feather and two of his own black feathers. The shaft was covered in Gryphon runes. With a flick of his talon, he lopped off the large barbed steel arrowhead at the end and concentrated, pulling the wind aspect energy around it until it formed a similar barbed arrowhead of solid yellow crystal. Taking his collapsed bow from his back, he held both under his cloak and waited. He wanted Chesh to see this.
The Gryphoness that stepped out into the sunlight was far different than the one Grif had come to know. Her expression was grim and her body shone with the light of burnished steel. The shield was still on her back, but it appeared that she had adjusted to the weight as she pressed forward and pulled out her sword, testing its edge as she approached. Gryphon and Thestral alike backpedalled as she pressed staunchly forward. It seemed almost as if a shadow had surrounded her as her eyes burned.
“Ready for a massacre?” Grif asked her.
“You really have to ask?” The steely rasp of her sword as she drew it from its hilt was like the grating of stone on an executioner’s axe. “They won’t live to see the sun set.”
“How far away would you say Grask is?” Grif asked as, with an over dramatic flick, he unclasped his bow. “I want him to see it coming.”
“I’d say they’re a good five miles or so off. Considering how much of a coward Grask is, it wouldn’t surprise me if he’s taken the rear.”
A sadistic grin came to Grask’s face as he felt the winds shift under his wings. “You see, men? The winds support us! Feel how they speed us on to the slaughter.” He laughed.
The manic grin was contagious as the troops confidence soared with their leader. With the winds on their side, perhaps what had happened in the Fortress was actually a sign of the fall of the Avatar. If such were the case, perhaps they stood a chance of capturing the Emperor after all. And if Grif had indeed fallen, then that meant the new Winds Father was also a fraud for supporting him, giving them grounds to kill him and install a new one on the seat of power. Surely, the winds were guiding them to victory. They let loose battle cries filled with confidence as they closed the gap.
Grif took a deep breath as he lifted the bow and notched the arrow. Exhaling slowly, he pulled the string back on the ancient black wood, straining as he did so. “Father, if you're there, and if you still guide my wings, then add your strength to this shot. Don’t let me falter, and make my aim true,” he spoke calmly as the ruby of the black bow blazed to life. Generations worth of powerful Gryphon blood that had since been sleeping now roused to the call. In front of Grif’s bow, red magic formed a cross hair.
“Winds, if you still want me as your avatar, and I know I’ve hardly been worthy of that title, then please grant me this boon. Guide this arrow to its target and grant me sacred vengeance for my brother.” The air around him suddenly kicked up into a breeze that circled around his body down his arm and around the arrow itself, causing the crystal to glow. The feeling of this wind on his skin was warm and loving; ancient and wise; playful and competitive, and wrathful, filled with such righteous indignation that Grif had to grit his teeth to keep himself calm.
“My name is Grif Bladefeather,” Grif spoke as he eyed down the shaft, the rapidly growing black dot in front of him suddenly becoming clearer as his eyes glowed, his vision enhancing more than it should. “You killed my brother,” he growled as the picture of Kel’leam dying flashed in his mind. He maneuvered the arrow, aiming under the heart and lungs, away from anything that would be instant.
‘Aim a little higher, son. There’s a tricky wind today.’ The sound of Graf’s old gravely voice echoed through Grif’s mind. Whether it was a memory from his childhood or the ghost of his father guiding him, he could not say, and he really didn’t care. A ghostly talon pressured his arm, holding it steady.
“Prepare to die!” Grif shouted as he loosed the arrow. It flew from its place: fast and deadly, closing the gap between shooter and target in less than a breath.
Grask stopped for a moment in the air as he felt the pain of the arrow puncture his armor and enter his body. He grasped the wound in shock, but he was 150 years old and he knew his body well enough to know the arrow had missed its target. “Missed the lung and the heart. It hurts like Tartarus, but I’ll survive,” he said, assuring his men as he broke the shaft from its place in his armor and waved them forward.
The trap was set and it only made Grif smile all the more as he nocked another normal arrow, took aim, and grinned at Chesher. “Two beaks says I can hit the left flank leader through his right eye.”
“I know better than to bet against you,” Cheshire said. “Just don’t kill them all before they get here. I deserve to get at least some blood out of them.” Her beak twitched.
Grif laughed before turning back and firing. There was a scream as the leftmost Gryphon fell from the sky. He allowed himself a dark chuckle as he nocked yet another arrow. “How long do you think before they realise we’re not Daedalus and Brunhilda?”
“Considering how stupid they were to kill Kel’leam in the first place? They probably won’t know till it’s too late. I’m guessing when Grask lands and starts monologuing. Then it’ll take about another five minutes of boring dialogue before he gets to the point he recognizes us and we kill him. Sound about right?” Her twitch turned into a grim smile. Her eyes darkened, and Grif very nearly shuddered at the sight.
“He’s already dead. When he lands, I’ll show you how dead,” Grif told her, taking another shot, sending the next left Gryphon Screaming to his death. “I’ll leave the right flank to you, okay?”
“Of course. Just let them come. They’ll regret the day they ever crossed me.” And then Cheshire laughed a cold, chilling laugh as she grinned. “I’ll make them pay. I’ll make them all pay.”
And so it went for the next ten minutes of playful banter while Grif took his shots. The mental effects were obvious as the formation slowed and nearly broke twice during their charge, but finally, they were within range for Cheshire to engage them directly. With a deafening roar, she launched into the air, her wings booming as she slit her first victim down his sternum, causing him to fall, trailing blood and internal organs. She whipped an arm above her back, pulling Kel’leam’s shield off its resting place as she set it in place.
“Murderers, traitors. You have shed innocent blood. And it shall be avenged by the very shield he once bore. DIE!” A tornado of shrieks, blood, and feathers followed as soldier after soldier dropped. All the while, a manic laughter filled the skies. “You think I was crazy before? You haven’t seen crazy yet, boys. Oh, but you will. You will.” Cheshire cackled and laughed again as she mercilessly sliced off an opponent’s wings and watched him fall while Kel’leam’s shield took the brunt of an incoming blow before she smashed its edge against yet another Gryphon’s temple.
Grask landed with fury in his eyes and rage in his body as he stood alone upon the deck of the great vessel. “You call yourself the Avatar? You missed, fool! And to think you would waste such an important arrow on me. How can you think to call yourself a Gryphon when all you’ve done has been nothing but turning your back upon your own kind? The winds fail you. Your ancestors forsake you. And you will fail in your supposed duty as protector, leaving the Emperor at my mercy.” He began to laugh. “Roll over now and I might show you the mercy of a quick death.” Grask’s eyes were bloodshot, his breathing unsteady. In a strangely ironic turn of events, he looked almost exactly as Cheshire did. He had lost his sanity, and Grif knew it. Grask drew the blade at his side. “Now die, you worthless affront to Gryphonia!” He charged Grif with a roar.
Grif snapped his talons together instantly. Suddenly, Grask’s chest exploded with a horrible pain, crippling his charge and forcing his blade to drop from his hand. “You’re a cancer, Grask,” Grif told him as he stood, staring down at the would-be-emperor, whose knees had buckled. The pain in Grask’s chest slowly began to spread as Grif carried implacably on. “You and those like you only serve to weaken our species by stopping the change we actually need. You’re right that Gryphons need to understand what true strength is, but you're wrong if you believe that you are that strength. That crystal in your chest is tearing itself and everything around it apart, both physical and spiritual, Grask. Your strength is as nothing before the Winds. Take that despair as you sink into nothingness,” Grif told him as he placed a talon on Grask’s beak and tapped it like an elder would a fledgling during his lessons. “You will never fly with the Winds, nor walk the earth in disgrace. The only way to kill a cancer is to destroy it completely and utterly. You will cease to be.”
Grask’s eyes widened in fear and shock and the madness parted. “N-no--” he wheezed. Even as he did so, the words of his daughter returned to haunt him. ‘If you march out to meet the Avatar, you will not fly amongst the winds nor walk the earth, you will simply be blotted out.’ He looked on in horror as a very bloodthirsty Cheshire shrieked in victory, having plunged her taloned hand into her enemy’s chest cavity. She ripped out the soldier’s heart, crushed it, then let it go as its owner disappeared beneath the cloud bank below. With a nigh pious reverence, she hefted Kel’leam’s greatshield onto her back again, then glided back onto the ship to stand next to Grif.
“Is it painful?” she asked.
“Indescribably.” Grif smiled. “He’s being torn apart to his base elements,” he said as he threw his hands out and pushed Grask off the edge, holding the would-be-emperor in the winds as the two watched him writhe in agony only a bit longer before Grif dropped him. Looking down, they watched as Grask’s body slowly disintegrated from the chest down to his hands and lower body. Soon all that was left was a face. Then, even that disintegrated, the process slowly working its way in. Grask opened his beak in one last wordless plea before even that was gone. The winds scattered what little remained of him until they disappeared entirely. Grif nodded in approval, his expression stony. “He has been totally unmade.”
“Then he’s damned?” Cheshire asked, still peering at the place where Grask had once been.
“Damned would mean his soul still survived, Cheshire.” Grif looked at her with a grim expression. “Even that was too good for him.”
“Then he’s really gone?”
“He couldn’t be any more gone, Cheshire. There’s not a way in all the universe to more fully destroy him.”
Cheshire nodded. “Good. Now Kel’leam can rest.”
“Would you desire it?” Grif motioned to the shield. “If you want it, I’d freely give it to you.”
“I loved Kel’leam, Grif. But even so, I don’t think it deserves to be cooped up in a corner somewhere while I’m out on a mission. It deserves better. He deserves better.”
“He deserved more than I could ever give him.” Grif nodded. “I think I will use this shield in a memorial. Somewhere nice and sunny. What do you think?”
“It’s a start.” Cheshire smiled weakly as tears pricked the corner of her eyes. “It’s a start.”
Grif approached Cheshire and embraced her in a hug. The two stood there embracing, saying nothing as they finally acknowledged their shared grief. The sunset blazed as the Gantrithor slowly changed its course, turning to face the west as they plotted their journey home. The pair glowed together, even as the orb slowly set below the horizon and all became darkness.
“Clover, I need your help with magic that is volatile enough to kill us both if something goes wrong,” Hammer said as he moved towards Clover, who was currently taking a break from teaching.
“So, the fun stuff.” Clover laughed.
“Exactly. Got a room to test out this stuff, or shall we do it in the middle of the courtyard with a ton of ponies watching?”
“As much as I love a captive audience, something tells me putting a few dozen Ponies in mortal danger doesn’t sit well with you,” she noted. “We can use my fortified lab.”
“To be fair, if something were to happen, a contained lab still wouldn’t stop much of the damage.” He shrugged..
“Maybe not,” she said, nodding in agreement, “If it wasn’t within a self contained pocket dimension.” She smirked.
“Then let’s go.”
Clover’s horn flared and the two vanished in a flash of light, re-appearing in a large square room filled with alchemical equipment, books, sigils, and evidence of other magical experimentation. “Welcome to the crossroads.”
“Good. This should work.” Hammer Strike turned to face her. “I need you to create a shield around you, specifically a dome.”
“Any particular strength?” she asked him.
“A very strong one.”
Clover nodded as she moved to a clear spot. Her horn flared again and a dome formed over her made of smaller intricately designed and reinforced hexagonal plates of magic.
“Oh boy,” Hammer sighed. “Mixing magic.” He raised a hoof slightly off the ground, a small purple crystal taking form as he focused. Over time the crystal grew in size.
“May I ask what the purpose of this experiment is?” Clover asked, confused.
“You can ask, but I’d prefer to show you,” he replied, storing the crystal in his coat as he walked towards the barrier. “Your shield only has two percent of what it had when you started.” He lifted a hoof, prodding one of the magical plates, only to have it weakly bend and break.
“How did you do that? This is a multi-layered shield. Weakening it that much shouldn’t be possible!” Clover said, shocked.
“It’s because you didn’t know what you were supposed to feel. I drained your shield of the energy reserve, leaving it at the point where it could only take a small amount of pressure compared to the start,” he replied with a grin. “After a problem that happened recently involving a shield, I looked into a way to break them quickly and efficiently.”
“The implications to this could be incredible!” Clover said as she dropped her shield.
“The problem is that you can’t replicate it without using an absurd amount of magic.” Hammer frowned. “As it turns out, the way to measure Thaumic units is on a Unicorn’s magic scale. When I tried the test to a Unicorn, I discovered that your Equestrian field is approximately half the amount of a thaumic field, meaning one unit of Thaumic energy is around two and a half on a Unicorn scale.” He shrugged. “I’m sure you could replicate the setup, but not efficiently for energy use.”
“Hmm…. Still, this proves an important weakness in my shield work. I’m going to have to figure out how to create a self-energizing shield array to prevent something like this in the future.”
“Test two. I want you to try and break past one that I make.”
“But you told me before you couldn’t shape a shield with your magic.”
“Not with Thaumic magic, but Celestia screwed up my field, and I apparently have an Equestrian field now on top of my own thaumic one,” he said as his forehooves began to burn blue fire. “Downside, I don’t have a horn to focus the energy, so I have to use my front hooves, which uses more energy.” A simple blue dome appeared around Hammer Strike with wicks of energy shooting off at random moments like a solar flare, matching his overall setup in how his magic looked.
“I’ll start with something simple and work upwards,” Clover said as she charged her horn, sending a simple magical blast at the shield.
The blast of magic simply collided with the shield and disappeared.
“Did your shield just eat my magic?” Clover asked.
“Maybe.”
Clover smirked before charging her horn again and firing several lighting bolts at the shield. Said bolts collided. Though the energy was absorbed, the electricity of said bolts spread across the shield before clearing.
She reached out with her magic, lifting several gemstones from a nearby store and flinging them point first at the shield before removing her magic’s influence on them. Each one collided, some bouncing off while some fractured on impact. The shield gained no power.
“Good,” Hammer noted.
Clover’s eyes glowed as she planted her hooves and gritted her teeth. The floor behind her cracked as a large wooden alicorn idol rose from the ground. The alicorn was in a meditative position; however, fanned out behind it were large wooden hooves connected to legs. Clover grinned as she lit up in flames from the magic she was sinking into this spell. The idol’s head turned to Hammer Strike before one of the hooves detached from the fan they had formed behind the idol and smashed forward, hitting the shield hard. As it returned to its place, a second one moved to strike the shield faster. And so it went, hoof after hoof, faster and harder and faster and harder as more legas lunged forward, slamming into the shield with incredible amounts of force. The attack seemed as if it was having no effect until the hits suddenly slowed down, the fan stopping entirely as one of the front legs on the idol lifted and slammed itself downward with an earth-shattering blow that collapsed through the shield, but stopped on contact with Hammer Strike himself. The idol returned to its regular position, sinking back underground as Clover collapsed, panting.
Hammer Strike shook his head, drops of blood falling to the floor beneath him as he pulled out a small cloth sheet to stop the bloody nose. “Note to self. Don’t hold the shield that long after it should have broken…”
“That attack came from a rare cult of albino Diamond Dogs living at the foot of Mount Everhoof,” Clover said, still panting “The fact you managed to hold that barrier together for the whole attack is incredible.”
“I was going to ask for a magical spar, but I think we should save that for another time, eh?”
“Considering that spell takes more energy than I’d like to admit, yes, I think that’s a great idea.” Clover moved to her alchemy table and pulled two purple concoctions from a beaker holder. She offered him one before drinking her own.
Hammer Strike carefully examined the fluid, shrugged, then drank it down. He smacked his lips. “You know, I’ve actually had worse.”
“Potion making and alchemy are simple sciences.” She shrugged. “At one point, I was a hair's breadth from making a philosopher’s stone, but it failed. I’m pretty sure it’s impossible.”
“You’ve met the Doctor. You should know better by now.”
“...Touché.”
Vital Spark walked nervously into Ponyville, his white coat and golden mane glistening in the sunlight. As an additional precaution to make a good impression, he’d made sure to clean himself till he shone and then faced Rarity’s intense scrutiny. He was going in for an interview of sorts after all, and his mom had always said to dress for the part. He searched high and low, doing his best to find somepony, anypony that he could recognize while he shifted the black case uncomfortably on his back.
“Are you lost?” a feminine voice asked.
Vital turned around to see a pegasus mare. Her coat was a pale persian blue with a light yellow mane and a streak of slightly darker yellow. Her cutie mark was a cloud covering a sun and she stared at him with a look that made him feel slightly uncomfortable.
“Um … yes. I was looking for Octavia’s house? Or recording studio? Rarity was a little vague, but she told me I should go see her.”
“Oh. And why’s a cute stallion like you headed that way?” she asked him.
Vital Spark blushed at the compliment. “I’m a violinist. Rarity suggested I join the orchestra here in Ponyville to stay in practice.”
“Well, I can show you the way.” She smiled, though somehow the way she voiced those words sounded wrong.
“Um … sure. I guess?” Vital asked. His heart was starting to race as his eyes darted nervously. “Thank you.”
Just before they set off, a white hoof tapped the Pegasus on the shoulder. She turned around suddenly to see a familiar looking white Unicorn with streaked blue hair. She held up a sign reading Cloud Kicker! and gestured with an angry hoof.
“Oh, come on, Vinyl, I was just teasing him,” Cloud Kicker tried, but Vinyl shook her hoof again. “Fine!” she sighed before storming off.
Vinyl looked at Vital spark. She turned the sign over and wrote something down with her magic. Looking for Octy?
“Um … yeah, I was. Rarity told me she’d want to meet me. I um … was hoping to audition for the orchestra,” he said, rubbing the back of his head nervously with a hoof. His mane had grown longer again in the time he’d been training and working at New Unity, but it was still manageable, so he didn’t worry about it too much. “Um, do you think you could take me to her? If you don’t mind, that is.”
Vinyl nodded, waving for him to follow.
“Thanks. It’s great to see a friendly face. I’m still kind of new in the area.” He smiled as he began to follow. “You’re Vinyl Scratch, right? The famous D.J. Pon-3?”
She nodded her head as she walked.
“I heard you did an amazing job at the royal wedding. You specialize in dubstep, right?”
She nodded again, smiling at him.
“I’d love to hear some of your work some time. I may like playing the violin, but that doesn’t mean I’m limited to classical music.” He smiled back.
She gestured with her hooves. He guessed she was trying to say she’d like that.
“Awesome. Maybe I can show you some music the humans brought with them from their world, too some time. It sounds like something right up your alley.” He laughed, the anxiety of Cloud Kicker now far behind him, blown away like a cloud on the wind. Eventually the pair reached a rather strange looking house with a neatly trimmed hedge in the shape of an eighth note. The house itself appeared to be split down its middle with what looked like organ pipes sticking up from the roof on the left. The keyboard flower boxes accented the musical theme and the glass windows were carefully formed with the shape of various musical symbols. The door and thatch of the house, along with its decoration on the outside left Vital Spark incredibly confused as he cocked his head at it.
“Um … is this her house?”
Vinyl looked at him with a strained expression as she tried to explain it.
“It’s our recording studio,” a familiar uppercrust voice spoke up. There on the landing, Octavia stood, her grey coat and purple bow tie just as perfectly styled as ever. Her black mane was carefully groomed and styled to give that casual, yet refined look that all professionals of the classical variety seemed to carry with them. Her purple eyes shone widely, just like every other pony in Ponyville.
“Oh. I didn’t know Ponyville had one of those,” Vital said, surprised.
“It was a joint venture that I and my partner,” she gestured to Vinyl, “invested in when I moved to Ponyville from Canterlot after an… incident involving the last Grand Galloping Gala,” Octavia noted.
“Played some music the nobles were too stuck up to enjoy even though it was actually fun, didn’t you?”
“I was told to play requests, and it was an element of harmony making the request. What was I supposed to do?” she sighed.
.”Well, on the plus side, you have a princess right here in Ponyville who approves of your music and what you’re trying to do, right? Not to mention a Lord who’s quite literally a legend up at Canterlot living just next door. If you could get a couple of gigs from them, your career would probably skyrocket.”
“That’s very nice of you, but I’ve decided to work on improving other aspects of my life first. I made a lot of mistakes when I moved to Canterlot that I need to atone for,” Octavia said in a despondent tone of voice before lifting her head. “But that’s neither here nor there. What can I do for you, Vital Spark, was it?”
“Um, yes, but how did you know my name? I never said a word.”
“You do realise that you’re friends with some of the largest figures in Equestria, correct? Including Ponyville’s biggest gossip?”
Vital Spark blushed. “You mean Rarity?”
“If there is something to be known about the rich and famous, then chances are she knows it.” Octavia nodded.
“Then yeah, that’s me.” Vital blushed again. “I heard that you had an orchestra and I was wondering if you could use another violinist.”
“Oh, I wasn’t aware that you played,” Octavia said “Do you have much experience?”
“I’ve played since I was nine years old. I’m a fairly competent site reader and I love learning new pieces.” He smiled. “And to answer your next question, I’m twenty three now.”
“My. You certainly have quite the dossier.” She smiled. “Perhaps you’d like to come inside and play something for me?”
“Sure. That’d be great!” Vital couldn’t help but smile back. “I’ve been itching to try some new material. Though if you’d like, I can play something I’m familiar with instead.”
“Oh, I’m sure we can find something.” Octavia giggled and Vinyl gave her a strange look with an arched brow as they walked in.
Pensword stood towards the back of the main bridge, the surfaces around him bathed in the setting sunlight as he watched the movements of the skeleton crew going about their tasks. It reminded him much of the human movie Star Wars. He frowned at how Matthew kept referring to these things. He had no clue what they were.
The center of the bridge had a table that broadcasted a holographic projection of the ship and the space around it with emblems and symbols in Gryphic describing weather conditions and other external readings. All of a sudden, something popped up at the edge of the system and suddenly the lights went blood red as an alarm blared that Pensword did not recognize. Matthew was confused as the alarm chimed over and over again. Gryphons were racing, some even flying to other parts of the bridge and ship.
“Three Destroyer class airships are moving in to block us,” one crewman yelled. Another had hit the communication system.
“General Quarters, General Quarters. Man your battlestations. Engineering, shut the thrusters down and pull power to the forward guns.” A sea of commotion frothed and stormed around the commander as he heard yet another alarm sound.
“Sir, there is no way the forwards guns will be able to punch through that blockade in time. We can’t do enough damage fast enough,” a Thestral said as he carefully looked over a read out.
The Gryphon at the helm smirked. He flicked a switch. “All Hands: brace, brace, brace.” He looked to the Thestral. “We have one main cannon that they will be facing.” He smirked as the sound of shifting metal reverberated throughout the ship.
On the holographic display, an image of the front of the ship flickered into being, showing as gears ground and parts shifted, causing two great bay doors to slide aside as a large barrel pushed slowly forward. For a moment, a flash of memory from Matthew connected to Pensword, stirring something deep within him. “Yamato,” he whispered with a giggle.
The Gryphon at the helm turned and looked at the manic glint in Pensword’s eyes. “Commander Pensword, you may give the word.”
Pensword quickly moved to look at the displays as a Thestral Stallion stood nearby to help his balance. He saw the lines and range of fire as the ship’s systems drew up the trajectory. Judging by the radius of the projected blast, the middle ship would be vaporized and the other two would suffer heavy damage at bare minimum. The ship shook as some of the longer ranged weapons on the Destroyers made contact. He waited another second, carefully studying the energy readouts and the glow coming from deep inside the barrel.
Suddenly, he snapped a wing out and chopped violently downwards. “FIRE!” He roared. Pensword did not know who gave the order, or who was the most excited, but in that moment, Matthew and Pensword were one.
The Cannon fired a beam that blinded the holographic sensors. The bridge was illuminated, flooded with light and shadow as sharp in difference as the night from the day as the beam raced out into the distance. Lightning crackled around the ship as he heard the sound of thunder shattering the air around them. In the distance, one ball of fire and light bloomed, followed shortly by another to the left. The one to the right slowly fell in a gradually descending arc, flipping over and over as it twinkled out of sight. A second later the vessel was gone in an explosion.
“Sir, we got Gryphons spiraling to the water below.” Pensword paused as he realized they were in fact over the ocean now. “Scopes show the deployment of rafts on the water surface. What should we do with the survivors?”
“Leave them,” Pensword said, his voice hard and hollow. “If they survive to reach land, they will be killed, or they will die out here on the water. Either way… it will be an ordeal. If any survive and live to serve in the Empire, they deserve that life they clawed out of death’s maw.”
“Reports indicate other airships are retreating. Annihilator cannon barrel is marked at three thousand degrees. We won’t be firing it again soon. Good thing they don’t know that.” The Gryphon smirked. “Looks like we’re clear for an escape, sir.”
Pensword looked at those around the bridge. “Just how big is that thing?” he asked in awe as he realized just what the damage was: three Destroyer ships gone. Massive, well sized vessels, each capable of extraordinarily powerful feats of combat had been laid low in a single blow.
“The cannon itself is thirty inches in diameter; however, the amplified lightning expands as it leaves the cannon until it dissipates,” an engineer explained.
“I am so happy we have that weapon under our control,” Pensword answered.
“Amen, sir.”
Grif sat at the table in the private mess hall set aside for the emperor and his staff, smiling gently as he sampled bits and pieces from the emperor's private stores. He was just about to pick a fruit that seemed to be a turquoise blue with yellow diagonal stripes when he noticed Pensword limp into the room.
“Aren’t you supposed to be in the infirmary?” he asked.
“I can walk. I have bruises all over, and a pulled wing muscle, but I can walk. In fact, they are telling me that walking will be good for me.” He sighed as he slipped into a rather comically oversized chair for him. “So, raiding the foods fit for a king? Or should I say emperor?” he asked with a laugh. “What have you found so far?” he moved a forehoof to rub his left ear. “Also, something about all this is setting me on edge.”
“Sit down.” Grif took a knife and cut a small chunk off of a large portion of brown chocolate and offered it to Pensword. “Care to join me?”
Pensword settled down further into the chair, where before his chest and above was visible, now only his head stuck up over the top of the table. “If you mention one word about a booster seat, I will give you a scar on that beak of yours and knock a tooth in.”
“Never crossed my mind.” Grif chuckled as he once again offered the chocolate. “It’s a rare delicacy from the Northern Kingdom.”
Pensword stood up, reached forward, took the piece of chocolate, and sat down feeling like he could have been swallowed up by the ship itself, even as he prepared to eat his smaller slice of the chocolate. He took a small nibble before pausing and peering over at Grif before taking a slightly larger bite. “What is this?” He asked. “Was that cinnamon I detected?”
“The beans and the cows that the milk comes from are produced in the same region. They add the cinnamon at just the right point during the process of making the chocolate so that it melds together, a delightful chocolaty cloud with a kiss of fire at the end. That's how they’ve described it in the past, they being only the highest of critics and royalty. They can only create so much of this stuff in a year and the majority of a year's worth sits on the table in front of us today.” Grif laughed. “You like it?”
“I do, but my father would have liked this even more. He loves Cinnamon and hot stuff.” He shook his head, a sad glint in his eyes. “Still, it is really good, and it just makes you feel special getting this type of food.”
Grif pulled up an empty tankard and filled it with some kind of purple juice, which he set down in front of Pensword. “This is what we Gryphons call gwarkalah. I don’t think there is a correct translation in Equestrian, but it’s made from a fruit that Zebricans will sell once every seven years. It has a sweet taste, but washes down with a pleasant iciness.” He slid the tankard in front of the Pegasus.
Pensword looked at the tankard and sniffed it. It had no real odor that he could detect. He looked up at Grif and smiled as he took a sip. His eyes widened in shock. “I feel like I could breath out a snowstorm,” he wheezed. “But it is so good at the same time.” He looked at the drink. “You think we could get some trade going for these fruits? Or maybe Zecora knows how to make it?”
“We can try.” Grif laughed. “With Hammer Strike’s coffers, who knows?” He tossed Pensword one of the fruits he had been about to eat when he walked in. “Not quite sure what this is, but it looks tasty,” he said, taking one himself.
Pensword snickered into his tankard as he raised a hoof to catch the fruit. “Ah, so we get to experiment. I like that. So, is the outside edible? Or is it like a gourd and you only eat the meat on the inside?”
“Anything on the table would be fully edible. Gryphons don’t eat fruit often, and when we do we usually aren't in the mood to peel it,” Grif told him. “On three?”
“On Three,” Pensword agreed. “One,” he began to count.
“Two…” Grif smiled.
“Three!” Pensword said as they both took a bite. The fruit was firm and had the slightest sound of a crisp crunch. “Wow, tastes like--this is mango and peach, and the texture … it feels like an apple.” He took another bite and the juice dripped all over his muzzle. He used his tongue to lick part of it back up as he voraciously finished off the rest. “I think it is a leftover from some old Thestral love of fruit, but this is … I almost want to call this a ... this is some of the best fruit I have ever had. Can I keep the pit?”
“Of course.” Grif laughed. “Gryphons buy fruit. They don’t waste space growing it when the farmland could be used for grains and cereals and other such things.” He continued to laugh as he pulled a loaf of bread over and cut it in half, revealing the aroma of garlic and cheese with hints of rosemary and… bacon? He handed half to Pensword. “Something I don’t think we can get from Sugarcube Corner.” He bit into it heartily, letting the taste wash over his tongue.
“How did they get the bacon into the bread? But that smells good to this old Thestral,” he muttered. Warm and somewhat full, he smiled as he casually moved a hoof to his chestplate, where Grif knew the eye tooth of the bear still hung around his neck. “Grif, did I ever tell you how I got this tooth?” he asked as he pulled the makeshift necklace out.
“Well ...” Grif smiled. “Let me refill your cup and make us both a plate and then you can give me the whole story. How does that sound? Just a couple of tough old hunters swapping stories over a good meal. I think we’ve both needed this for a while.”
“Sounds like a fair trade,” Pensword replied with a chuckle. “I call you brother. It is time I treat you like one. You see, this item that hangs around my neck is my symbol of becoming a stallion. It belonged to the most feared beast in the woods of my home: the grizzly bear.” Pensword began to speak in a solemn tone as he mentioned the loss of bee hives and a few Thestral legends about the bear.
Vital Spark practically pranced through the square, waving to each Pony that said hello with a slightly bulging music pocket on his case. He hummed happily to himself as he recalled the audition and subsequent duet work with Octavia. The show most definitely didn’t do her talent justice, and he loved seeing her jaw drop when he played Meditation From Thais. The teachers from his jury back in school hadn’t liked his performance, but he’d clearly managed to pique her interest. The tears and her wonderful smile were all the encouragement he needed after taking so long to be able to really play again. Come to think of it, he couldn’t recall a moment where she wasn’t smiling at him. And he couldn’t seem to understand why Vinyl kept facehoofing. When he asked her later, she just shook her head and harrumphed before going back to her work station to mix up a new soundtrack. Despite this strange behavior, he was still one of the happiest stallions alive. He couldn’t wait to start practicing some new music, especially since this was Pony music, which meant it could be completely different from Earth’s music. Suddenly he felt a firm, but heavy hoof on his shoulder that turned him around faster than he could register the feeling.
“You. You’re the new pony from New Unity, right?” A practically frantic Berry Punch asked.
Vital started, jolted from his reverie and thoughts by the pony’s sudden turn of action. “Yes, um, hi? Can I help you?” He blushed violently.
“The name’s Berry Punch,” she said, cutting straight to the point. “Are you headed back to New Unity by chance?”
“... Yes. I was just popping into town to visit Octavia and get some new music to practice,” he said, motioning to the case on his back. “Why do you ask?” he asked cautiously.
She gulped, then hurriedly burst into her story. Her eyes were bloodshot. “I was supposed to make this delivery earlier, but the bar was busy today.” She gestured to the cart behind her. “And right now if I make the delivery, I won’t be home in time to pick up Ruby or Piña Colada from school. My sister can handle herself, but Pinchy gets worried if I’m not on time. Please, I know you don’t know me, but I’m begging you.” She dropped onto her knees. “Could you please do me a favor and maybe take the cart with you?”
“I … suppose I could,” Vital said a little uncomfortably. “I’d be glad to help. I mean, it’s little kids after all. I’d just need some help getting into the harness. I know it might sound hard to believe, but I’ve never had to pull a cart before.”
It took a few minutes, but soon enough Vital was strapped into the cart securely, his case laid carefully in a nook in one of the corners next to the securely strapped barrels. “These are for Mister Demolition Charge. I’ll come by for the cart tomorrow. Thank you so much. I really do appreciate this.”
“No problem. I know a little of how it feels to be an overworked mother. Things like this happened to mine a few times, too.” He smiled kindly. “Say hi to the kids for me, okay? Oh, and tell them Grif will be returning home soon. I’m sure they’ll be looking forward to story time. I hear he’s quite skilled.” With that said, he waved a cheerful goodbye and started out for the castle. The sensation was a curious one to say the least, since the weight of the cart pulled at his waist in a manner similar to how he felt when his pants pockets were weighted down with heavy objects in human form. Much to his delight, the cart actually didn’t feel too heavy. It still required some effort, but he was able to manage the load fine. All those workouts must have been doing him good.
“Will do,” Berry called as he left before she turned and headed on her way.
Passing through the woods, Vital decided to take advantage of the privacy to start singing. He started off with a rendition ofIn the Jungle before shifting over to I Can See Clearly Now and finally settling on You Raise Me Up. Eventually he rounded the bend and came up on the castle proper. The distance had left him slightly winded, but overall it was more like a pleasant walk than anything else. Rook would be impressed. With that pleasant thought in mind, he continued on to the drawbridge where a familiar voice greeted him at the gate.
“Vital Spark? I take it that’s you and not some prissy Unicorn?” Grenado called down to him.
“I’d be careful who you call a prissy, Demo.” Vital laughed. “After all, Rarity is Hammer Strike’s special somepony. Also, if I were a noble, do you seriously think I’d be pulling this thing myself without a guarded escort and a bunch of servants to boss around?”
“Fair ‘nuff, fair ‘nuff,” he nodded. “But don’t be calling Lady Rarity a Unicorn again, y’hear me?” he said before signaling the gate to be rushed.
“Why? It’s our tribe, isn’t it?” Vital asked.
“Lady Rarity is a lady who knows how to kick an arse right ‘n proper. She ain’t like them prissy Unicorns from Canterlot; she’s a proper one of us,” Demo said.
“So what do I call her then?” Vital asked as
“Uh…” Demo trailed off for a minute. “What’s inna cart?” he growled.
“Delivery from Berry. She says it’s for Charge. I thought I’d do you guys and her a favor and bring it by.” Vital smiled.
“Ah. Alright, get in here.” Grenado looked over his shoulder. “Hey, Charge, get out here! Your ingredients have arrived!”
Vital passed through the gate and smiled as he parked on the side of the training grounds near the makeshift guardhouse the Demos had claimed for themselves. He magically undid his harness with his horn and reclaimed his violin case. Things had gotten a little easier now that he’d dealt with his guilt over the Changelings, though magic still came more difficult for him than it did for the other Unicorns in New Unity.
“Ah, Vital! I see you brought my shipment!” Charge’s tone was slightly less harsh compared to Grenado’s, even holding a jovial tone to it.
“Yeah, Berry’s work ran late today, so she asked if I could help. Say, Charge, can I ask you a personal question?”
“Aye,” Charge answered as he began checking the cart.
“Is it really true that you and Grenado can’t live without alcohol?”
“Last time I tried going dry, I ended up in the hospital,” Charge told him, shivering. “It’s just better I don’t question it.”
“I understand. You guys are okay with cookies though, right?”
“Aye.” Charge nodded. “Back before she lost her other eye, me mother used to make me cookies while my father was at one of his twenty seven jobs.”
Vital Spark whistled. “Twenty seven?”
“Ah know ah know, he could have been doing more, but it was rough times and there weren’t no other jobs on the market.” charge sighed.
“I actually meant that to be one of impression. The most my dad ever did were two at one time. No wonder you have such a great work ethic.” Vital smiled. “And you two can expect a little present in the next day or two. I’ve got an itch to bake something fierce. You guys like chocolate chip?”
“Aye,” Charge said, somewhat confused “Why? What do you need us to do?”
“Nothing. I just want to do something nice for you guys. I’m sure Pinkie Pie will be happy to help me out.”
“Alright then,” Charge said. “I should be getting this stuff to the distillery and the explosive shed. Brave of you. Not many ponies willing to move some of this stuff without proper training.”
“Wait, what?” Vital exclaimed, his eyes suddenly wide.
Shawn sighed to himself as he stood in a secure room with just a table and straight sword. Clover was the furthest away, currently at one of the walls. He placed two crystals on the table: a dark grey one and a red one. “Alright, Clover, anything goes wrong and I hope you can hold a shield around this to keep it from killing us.”
“I’ve been working on possible strengthening techniques, and I think I can make one strong enough now.” She nodded.
“Let’s hope so. Because if it doesn’t work, we’re both dead.” Shawn gave her a grin.
“And this differs from any of our other experiments … how?” she asked him.
“Well, when trying new things, you tend to need to be cautious. I’m going to try some base enchanting,” he said as his hands ignited, the sword and crystals following afterwards. Reaching forward, he held one finger over the blade and began drawing out a symbol over it. The red crystal burned away with every line and curve until it was finished. Upon the completion of the first symbol, the blade began to change, growing hot. He continued, quickly moving over to draw the next sigil. This time the grey crystal burned away, the same as the first, until both symbols were fully etched into the controlled field surrounding the blade.
It was at that point that the blade began to morph. The metal shifted constantly, like an actual flame, taking a dark hue before fading, seemingly becoming transparent, just as fire can be seen through when it is controlled and focused.
Shawn sighed as he let his magic fade from his hands and the blade. He looked quizzically at the blade as he grabbed the handle and raised it up to study.
“Were you successful?” Clover asked him.
“Considering I now have a blade that shifts its form constantly? ... Yes.”
“I’ve never seen an enchantment react like that,” Clover said, staring. “What have you done to it?”
“I made a blade infused with fire and chaos. I’ll give you more information as we figure it out. Can you bring in the test dummies outside the door?”
Clover levitated the dummy over for Shawn.
Shawn twirled the sword in hand before slashing at the dummy with a horizontal arc. What surprised him was that he felt no resistance as the blade cut clean through the dummy. “Uhh…”
“The cut’s so fine.” Clover squinted as she tried to get a better look. “You almost can’t notice it, if not for the burns along the site.”
“Create a shield; a small plate there, over the next dummy’s chest.”
Clover concentrated and her horn flared, forming the desired shield. Shawn gave another swing with the same results, slicing directly through the shield as if it weren’t there. He raised his eyebrows. “Well then, this could be useful.”
“An armor ignoring sword?” Clover said in disbelief. “I’ve heard of it being done with arrows, but it’s incredibly costly. To do this for an entire sword? The implications are frightening.”
“Remind me to do this with some arrows, bolts, and maybe a few more weapons… and with other aspects.”
“Your armory’s going to be unstoppable,” Clover marveled.
“Not just mine. Certain individuals are going to get this upgrade as well, yourself included. I think I can definitely figure out something for you.”
“I’m honored.” Clover smiled at him. “For now, we should get what we’ve found out down in notes and then I think I’ll need to prepare my lesson plan, and you have a certain young Unicorn guest to attend to.”
Grif and Pensword found themselves standing on the bridge of the Gantrithor as several engineers stared at them nervously. They claimed they had located just what Grask’s spies had done to the thrusters, but from the looks on their faces there was more to this news.
“Alright, spit it out. What’s the catch?” Grif asked after a few solid moments of silence.
The head engineer finally spoke up. “The damage isn’t extensive, but it was well hidden, deep within the Gantrithor’s primary thrusters. We’d need to totally disable them in order to get to the damaged areas and repair them, which would mean we’d have to completely shut down the ship.”
“Time for repairs? And where can we even set down to repair? Can the ship land in the water?” Pensword asked as he stood there. The wound had been bandaged and was healing nicely. The dislocated wings had been put back in place and were bound together against his sides to heal properly. “We could use the repair time to perform the renaming scenery.”
“The ship is equipped for a water landing, but it would mean the lower decks being submerged, and the lower decks are where the primary thrusters are located,” one engineer explained. “We’re looking at at least 48 hours to dismantle the thrusters, repair the damage, and then reassemble them.”
“So we need some land,” Pensword muttered as he approached the map. “If Grif is okay with it, I think we should give the repairs a seventy two hour window, just in case we face any unexpected surprises.” He looked over the map and frowned. None of the islands displayed appeared to be large enough to hold the airship.
“That’s a good plan.” Grif nodded as he stalked up behind Pensword. “We also need a place we know no rebels will try to hunt us down on.”
Pensword paused. “Wait.” He moved a hoof to the eastern side of the map. “That is odd.” He could see a large island emerging, but its center was blank, unnamed and unidentified by the ship’s magic. “An unknown landmass. That is good. If we don’t have a map, then the enemy won’t be present.” A bright red text suddenly appeared over the landmass, scrawling continuously. “Grif, what is it saying?” Pensword asked as the letters flashed.
“It’s a warning,” Grif told him. “It’s explaining that the island is dangerous.”
“Dangerous?” Pensword’s grin grew a little wider. “Perfect. What dangers does it say?” he asked as he moved to look at the map, ignoring the worried looks on the engineers’ faces. “I think we should be able to handle them.”
“Riftbeak island,” Grif explained without looking at the map. “In the last 200 years alone there have been seventeen attempts to map the island. Each time there were no survivors, no contacts, no traces. Gryphons have come to accept that the island is dangerous and won’t go there.” He looked to the engineers. “However, we are only stopping for three days, gentlemen. We have provisions, weapons, and enough skilled soldiers to fight off an army. We can handle whatever this island might hold. We’ll dock here,” he said, indicating to a small cliff on the coast: a clearing large enough to clamp the ship to. “We’ll just deploy docking hooks, bunker down, and keep our heads up until the repairs are finished. We can do this.”
“... Aye aye, Avatar,” the head engineer said reluctantly. We’ll be ready to dock when we reach the island. At our current rate of speed, it’ll take us three hours.” He shuddered. “At least we can bunk inside the ship if needed.” With that said, the Engineers dispersed. All but one.
“How can you be so calm?” She asked, her head darting from Grif to Pensword to Jorund and back again. “You’re going into what could be a deadly situation.”
Pensword looked up at Grif before returning to his work as he looked over the old reports from long range observations and coastal flybys. “Why not? We just left the Empire with the first failed coup in your history. We lost lives and brothers in arms. I think a mysterious island of unknown danger will make a pleasant change of pace.”
“We have lived through enough battles to know how to handle ourselves.” Grif nodded. “There’s nothing there that we can’t take care of.”
The Gryphoness Engineer nodded, still looking nervous before she left the bridge, leaving Grif and Pensword alone with the personnel on the bridge.
“Grif, I am going to explore the ship. I would rather get a nice map of where we can fall back to if we do get boarded. You can reach me by the speakers if you need me.” Pensword looked to the map. “This is going to be exciting. An unknown, unmapped island. This was a dream that Matthew had once: to be an explorer.”
“I’ll be with Avalon if you need me,” Grif told him as he headed for the imperial quarters.
The imperial quarters of the Gantrithor were in every way fit for an emperor. They were twice the size of the captain's quarters: sixty feet by thirty feet with walls covered in smooth marble and carved with depictions of famous moments in Gryphon history. A large four posted bed covered in fine blankets and goose feather pillows lay at the leftmost side of the room by the window. Three book cases covered the right corner, holding large tomes in old Gryphic. A large mahogany writing desk stood with its chair resting central to the back wall. Empty scrolls and several maps waited idly to be used. Three inkwells, each filled with a different color of ink, stood waiting patiently. A sealing candle stood on a silver holder, not far away.
On the right side of the room, closest to the door, sat a large wine rack filled with some of the finest wines of the Gryphon empire, alongside two casks of cider and brandy. Not too far away, a large mahogany table lay, taking up most of the center of the room. Large comfortable wooden chairs with velvet cushions lined the table. A large plate of fresh fruits and sweets occupied the table’s center, but Avalon wasn’t allowed to make use of anything but the bed.
Grif had been adamant about her staying in bed until he was satisfied she had recovered enough to be walking around. After a long argument with several words being thrown by Avalon in old Gryphic that can’t be repeated, she relented when snowy had forcibly pushed her to the bed. Well, not so much pushed as escorted with insistent hoots and a speed that blocked Avalon at every turn. The doctor’s orders, along with everyone else’s, was sleep. She harrumphed peevishly as she ran over a rare volume of Chaucer’s Gryphonstone Tales. Five minutes later, she hissed triumphantly as she read of the wicked warrior Gryphon who had dared to steal a Gryphoness’ virtue. As a boon to the queen, Emperor Arthur Quillfeather declared that the females of the court would decide the warrior’s fate. She couldn’t wait to see what would happen next. Snowy slept peacefully on her perch, bobbing her head up as she inhaled, then exhaling with a gentle trilling hoot.
There was a gentle knocking at the door. “Room service!”
Avalon rolled her eyes. “Room service can stuff itself with its own feathers for all I care,” she said as she pulled her book up to her face.
Grif opened the door, chuckling dryly. “Still angry, are we?” he asked as he entered the room carrying a covered tray.
“Angry doesn’t begin to describe it, dear.”
“Well, my dear, your feelings are your own,” Grif said as he walked over to her. “But for now, the rest of you is staying in bed until the doctor says otherwise.” He brought the tray over and removed the cover, revealing a small dish of fruit and several other delicacies. A freshly cooked pheasant lay on the central plate. “I do hope you’re not too angry to eat?”
Avalon’s stomach rumbled plaintively. “Traitor,” she grumbled as she closed the book. She still held to her disgruntled glare though.
Grif laughed as he set the tray down before her. “You remind me of myself during the war. There was a time where Shrial held a knife to my throat to get me to stay in bed and I didn’t speak to her for a week afterwards.”
“You know I’m perfectly fine, Grif. I just needed a little rest. You don’t have to treat me like a fledgeling with a cold.”
“You lost more blood than the doctor was comfortable with, after you’d already drained yourself prior to that. You needed far more than ‘a little rest,’ and we both know it,” Grif returned. “Besides, if Snowy thinks you still need to be in bed, don’t you think maybe it’s worth heeding?”
“Why is it that I’m the knowledgeable one, yet I’m the one getting the lecture?”
“Because I’m the older one.” Grif smiled at her. “And I’ve been on my deathbed enough times to know better.” He kissed her forehead gently. “I wish it wasn’t so, but being around me, Pensword, and Lord Hammer Strike enough will probably help you to understand sooner or later.”
“Still won’t stop me, you know.” Avalon smirked. “Isn’t that why you married me?”
“If I made a list of the reasons why I married you, I’d be a very very old Gryphon before I’d get halfway done.” Grif’s demeanor changed as he sighed. “We’re landing on Riftbeak Island.”
“And you’re still confining me to bed?” Avalon asked as she began to pluck at the pheasant.
“We’re not exploring. We are landing in order to fix the thrusters so we won’t spend an extra week enroute for Equestria. I’m only telling you this so everyone on board is aware.”
“And so I don’t get any more angry with you later when we get back to New Unity. After all, you’re going to have to spend the next week or more in close quarters with me.” She stuck her tongue out playfully. “Best not to be on my bad side when I know where you sleep.” Then she laughed.
“I’m used to people trying to kill me in my sleep.” He laughed. “Still, we have a few hours before we reach the island.” Grif smiled. “So why don’t you tell me what you’ve been reading?”
“A rare book from the last millennium. The author’s name is Chaucer. Have you heard of him?”
Grif had been taking a gulp from a glass of tea at the time she said this. Upon hearing the name, he promptly did a spit take.
Pensword paused at the double sealing doors. He was curious. The further he had treked into this area, the more reinforced it became, if the airlock type hatchways through bulkheads were any indication. This had to be something very important and vital to the ship. He came upon a closed door with symbols and writing in Gryphic glowing a combination of yellows, reds, and greens. He paused before he shifted to his hind hooves before the giant metal door. Using his forehooves, he pushed and the door unlocked with a hiss, slowly swinging open under Pensword’s pressure. When it had opened fully, he stepped over the threshold into the new space.
The room was large and cylindrical with great bronze pathways etched into the floors and walls. They all glowed as a wave of red light traced across them outward from the center, where on a large bronze platform sat. This had to be the core of the ship. On closer inspection, the large bronze platform was really the bottom pedestal of a silver pillar that rose about to the eye level of a pony, where it spread into eight thick finger-like protrusions spread out in a fan. In the middle of this makeshift bowl sat a large orb made of thick ruby quartz. A little above it, like an octopus, eight more thick gold fingers flowed up and into a gold pillar that joined another pedestal. Just like its counterpart, this one was also made of bronze and attached to the ceiling.
The core pulsed gently, sending another powerful wave of red light across the pathways to different parts of the ship. It sat in its place, almost as though it was bored for some reason. Pensword walked up to the platform and paused. It looked like the bronze pedestal was actually welded to the ground, like this item in front of him was built first and then the ship was built around it. While he had seen some examples before in Equestria, this strange item set him on edge. He paused as he turned his head to focus back on the orb. “You are the source of unease I feel.” He shook his head. He must have been more tired than he thought, talking to an inanimate object like this.
“Is it that obvious?” a feminine voice asked from within the pillar.
Pensword jumped at the sudden voice as he hovered in the air wings, outstretched and beating. “What? This ship has an A.I.?” He asked as he flapped closer to the pillar. Did he see the lights pulse to the words?”
“What in the name of Faust is an A.I.?” the voice said. “Wait, you can hear me?” The ghostly image of a Crystal Pony with deep teal fur and a turquoise mane and tail walked out of the pillar.
“What?” Pensword gasped as he backpedaled while he focused on the image. “Who are you? What ... what is that thing? What is going on here? Why are you on a Gryphon ship?”
“And where did the Gryphons get the core of the ship?” she asked him.
“The…. but, okay, what in Tartarus is going on here?” Pensword asked, his voice hardening. His eyes flickered. “Why is your soul tied to the pillar? What did the Crystal Ponies do?”
“No, my soul is tied to the core,” she told him. “And I alone am at fault for that,” she said proudly.
“How--how are you proud of that? Why are you a living soul in a machine? And-” he paused. “What do you need me to do?”
“There’s nothing to be done for me. A price was demanded, and I paid it happily. But if you’d like to help, could you please touch the core?” she asked.
Pensword looked at the ghost. “Well, okay. Just touch the core?” He slowly hovered toward the core and cautiously poked it. “May I know your name? I shall give mine as well.”
“I am Caring Circlet.” She nodded. “I was once the greatest alchemist of the Crystal Empire, and now I am the greatest of all time, even if that’s only known by me.”
“A pleasure to meet you, Caring Circlet,” Pensword responded. He flapped his wings, pulling his hoof away from the core. “May I ask what makes you say what you have? I have known a few well known mages and the like. How are you now the greatest of all time?”
“Because I’ve completed the ultimate alchemy, the project every alchemist has tried and failed to create.” She smiled as lines began forming on the surface of the core, creating a pattern that reminded Matthew of a soccer ball.
“You didn’t,” Pensword balked. “But ... you did hide it, right? If you created what I think you created ... But why?” He spun in the air to face the specter. “Why create it?”
“Why does a painter make a masterpiece? Why does a writer write a novel? What I created was the perfection of my craft,” she said, shrugging.
“You created a Philosopher stone. What good will come about because of that? How can--just what are your plans? As a Thestral who can speak to those who have passed on, I demand to know.”
“Originally, this core would have been used to create an aerial platform that could both bombard the enemy and allow for faster deployment of Pegasi into the battlefield,” she said. “And my plans are simply to observe and research. I’m not some mad scientist, you know.”
“Well, that is good to know. I have meet mad ponies before,” he muttered with a pained look on his face. “I faced Sombra,” he whispered, shaking his head. “So it is originally designed with Ponykind in mind? What can it do? What are the parameters and functions available? Also, how can I help in improving the situation?”
“You may be able to help, but not with the current available resources,” she said.
“Well, Lord Hammer Strike might be able to help, then. What can we do at this moment?” he asked as he moved forward to look at the orb. “I ... did it hurt?” he asked suddenly, turning his head towards Caring Circlet.
“No.” She shook her head. “I felt nothing.”
Pensword paused for a moment longer as he listened before widening his eyes. “That is what I was feeling. I could feel you!” He pointed a hoof at her ethereal body. “Through the entire ship.” He paused. “Did you cause that sudden wave of pain and aching yesterday?” He asked as he slowly began to put things together. “And that stone…” He closed his eyes. “I really need to formalize clearance and access levels.”
“Has Equestria lost so much?” she asked him.
“You are a thousand years in the future. I am looked at more by my station as the new High Duke of the Lunar Courts. The Solar Court still exists. The Military is just a bunch of royal guards or local militias. The government has their own classifying system, but I am planing to fight for a robust military, one that I will be building from the ground up.” He sighed. “A thousand years of peace founded upon the fear of an event so far in the past, it is more legend than fact, even though it is fact. I saw the damage of the fortress with my own two eyes.”
“Then now, indeed, seems the time this ship can do the most good,” she said.
“So you’re telling me you created this off of what you learned from the sword Taze showed up with?” Blast Shield asked as he swiped the katana with his magic, testing it.
“Yes.” Storm Hammer nodded. “It took me weeks to find the right type of steel, and even longer to get the technique right, but if I’m correct, that is the same type of sword he used.”
“Seems kinda light, and it looks a bit fragile to be a blade,” Blast told her. “You're sure it would survive?”
“Trust me. I’ve given it every test I can imagine. It cuts through most plating like it was paper.” She offered Blast the smooth lacquered wooden sheath that Taze had explained was commonly used to house such weapons. “Do you like it?”
“It’s light, but I doubt any enemy would see it coming,” Blast Shield said, sliding the blade into the sheath. “Thank you, Storm Hammer. I’ll make sure to spread the word.” He dropped a large bag of Hammer Strike’s coins in front of her. “I can’t wait to show off to Tower.”
Meanwhile, in Steel Weaver’s forge, Tower Shield was testing his new weapon.
“Aye, lad, built to your specifications,” Steel Weaver said, eyeing the Kanabo in Tower’s magic.
“Good. Grif told me this was a special design used in ancient times by the humans. A powerful weapon good for either offense of defense. As usual, your work is beyond expectation.” Tower laid a massive pouch of bits on the cluttered work table. “I know it seems a bit much, but Hammer Strike insists I overpay, so please, don’t question it.”
“Knowing Hammer Strike, I’m surprised he didn’t want ye’ to pay with bricks of the stuff.”
“We haggled.” Tower shrugged.
“Still surprised you convinced him.” Steel shook his head. “Take it to the testing grounds. Make sure you like the weight of it.”
“Sure thing. It feels pretty good in my magic already, but a little test run never hurts,” Tower said as he made his way through a backdoor in the forge to a tiny courtyard where various dummies had been set up for training and testing. Hefting the kanabo with his magic, he took a meaningful swipe, thrashing a Pony dummy’s foreleg off. Then he spun the weapon around to form a sort of shield before slamming it against dummy after dummy. Lastly, he let his magic drop and took up the weapon in both hooves, swinging for all the world like a professional in a certain sport back on Earth. A dummy head went soaring up and over the walls. Tower whistled. “Lot of power in this thing.”
“It’s a heavy long mace, essentially. Of course it has bloody power!”
Tower laughed. “Perfect. If anypony tries anything, I’m sure this will help to persuade them to abandon any plans.”
“Or they could forfeit their life,” Steel replied with a shrug.
“Let’s hope it doesn’t get that far.… Then again, it is pretty tempting with Blueblood,” Tower murmured as he rubbed his chin.
“Oi! Save a hit for the rest of us.”
Tower chuckled. “We’ll see, Steel Weaver. Thanks for all the hard work. I can’t wait to show this to my brother.”
“Riftbeak Island coming up, sir,” the captain said as Grif entered the bridge. The magic crystal map shifted to focus on said landmass. The island was almost a peninsula with just over eight thousand feet between its farthest points. The coast was dotted with a mixture of white sandy beaches and large jutting cliffs that made the terrain rocky and unstable. Further inland from the coast, a mass of dense forest life awaited with a canopy so thick there was no way to see the ground beneath it. Off center of the island, a massive extinct volcano jutted out from the earth. It was impressive, standing at nearly twenty five thousand feet at its tallest point. From the distance, most Gryphons claimed they saw steps and handholds carved into the face, leading to the volcano's crater, though no Gryphon had gotten close enough to confirm this.
Pensword looked at the map and then out of the windows. “Well, this is going to be interesting. Hopefully, we will have an okay time on the island and we can then return home. I miss Lunar Fang and Moon River.”
“We’ll be home in no time.” Grif smiled confidently at his friend. “Is our landing zone clear, captain?” he asked.
“Yes, there’s just enough room for us to land with perhaps ten feet between us and the forest,” another Gryphon confirmed.
“Take it away, Captain.” Grif nodded to the older Gryphon.
“Prepare docking hooks!” the captain ordered. There was a low rumbling below as the ship prepared to grab the cliff's edge. “Begin lowering lift field!” The ship began to groan as its full weight started to return. The ship began descending at a steady pace as they moved towards the landing site. Before long they found themselves hovering no more than five feet above the ground as the docking hooks descended and locked into the stone before pulling the ship to ground. There was a rumble that shook the ship as the Gantrithor landed in its temporary berth. “Landing successful, sir,” the mate told the captain. The captain, in turn, turned to Pensword and Grif and nodded. “We are docked.”
“Good. Captain, your orders are as follows: make sure we have guards on the crew doing the outside repairs. Make sure that all spare parts are given priority to the engine room first. Also, I want at least two Gryphons watching the forest and sea approach respectfully. I do not want to be hit on either side. We are the most vulnerable at this moment. You have your orders. Please carry them out,” Pensword said as he rose to the air to look the Captain in the eye.
“Aye aye, sir.” The captain nodded as he grabbed one of the communication pipes and began broadcasting Pensword’s orders.
“So. On a remote island that is deadly to anyone that lands on it. Shawn’s going to be angry he missed out, huh?” Grif asked Pensword.
“Maybe, or maybe we just come back with coconuts,” Pensword replied. “The only eventful thing I want is a problem with the repairs.”
“Well, talons crossed, I guess.” Grif laughed.
Pensword nodded as Kahn walked into the bridge. “The Demons are ready for scouting duty,” the Gryphon said, causing a sudden lull in the activities of the bridge.
Pensword shook his head. “No, I need you and the Demons to be around the ship itself. I want you to protect the technicians and mechanics so we can be back underway in as little time as possible. I also need your help renaming the vessel for the trip across the ocean. I will not be sailing on a captured vessel bearing a name that is no longer suitable for it. I do not want fate to strike us out of the air.”
“I’m going to the deck,” Grif told Pensword as he turned around. “It’s time for some meditation.”
“Sounds good. See you when you get back,” Pensword replied as he looked at the map. “Is this the only map on the ship, or is there another one? I want to plot our course back home.”
“There is a command room that was created for the emperor to hold private council on the fourth deck,” the captain offered. “I suppose it would be okay to let you use the map in there.”
“Thank you,” Pensword responded. He turned around and landed on the ground before walking out of the room.
An enlisted Gryphon looked on and muttered after Pensword left. “How can such a small being gather such presence?”
“If I remember correctly, Empress Warbeak the First was a dwarf owl,” the captain pointed out. “It’s not the size of the dog in the fight; it’s the size of the fight in the dog. Come, we should get ourselves armed. This bridge won’t be working for a while, so we should be out there with the others.”
The Gryphon nodded, bowing his head in respect. While the words were not sharp, the meaning behind them was enough to make him feel chastised for his own words. “I shall report to the armory right away, Captain.”
Grif sat on his haunches on the deck, eyes closed, wings spread out as he meditated on the words of the Quetzalcoatl back in Gryphelheim.
You must remember, young one, that your title is The Avatar of Winds, not a mere champion. A little piece of their power flows with you. When you are angry, it well resonate with your rage. But when you have your center firmly secured, you will truly understand your place in our universe.
The Quetzalcoatl knew well enough to know Grif was not of their world, so how could he possibly be connected to their universe that deeply? How could he claim there was a piece of the Winds in him? These questions rocked Grif’s mind for hours. It had been four hours since he had been in the bridge with Pensword and he was still no closer to understanding.
Grif knew Hammer Strike would be angry, but the Gryphon had begun feeling around with the thaumic sensing technique as he tried to meditate on the true nature of his title. The island positively thrummed with energy, both thaumic and magical in nature, and something else that Grif couldn’t identify: an aura that was bright and warm, but also ancient, and left him with the feeling of heavy dust on his feathers. It frightened and intrigued him, but he couldn’t figure out why it did.
Grif felt it before the sound of war horns blew. A heavy swarm headed towards the front of the ship: fast and strong and full of life. He could feel them coming. His eye’s snapped open just as they broke the treeline. Large bipedal apes dressed in everything from basic leather to sewn together leaves swarmed from the forest brandishing hardwood staves for weapons. “Attack!” Grif yelled in warning. His voice was echoed by the fleeing scouts and the warriors in front of the Gantrithor. “Everyone to your stations! Prepare to make our stand!” Grif ordered as he moved to the guard line. He reached for Vigilance and Vengeance only to feel a sudden pulse of energy from them.
“No. No bloodshed.”
The voice echoed in Grif’s head and the command was steadfast. “No bloodshed,” he echoed to the troops. “Incapacitate them if possible, but do not kill any of them under any circumstances.” As the words left his mouth, Grif met one of the attackers head on, hitting the monkey square in the jaw with his fists before grabbing the staff and turning it against the attacker. “And somebody get Pensword out here!”
Pensword looked contemplatively at the map as he experimented with the controls. While it was similar to the old war maps of the Third Gryphon War, this was a newer design in a foreign language, and frankly, he was getting a headache fighting the controls at the moment. He reared up on his hind legs in frustration before flapping up into the air. He looked to the door, wondering if one of the Gryphon techs might be willing to assist with translation and operation. He snorted in anger and annoyance.
As if in answer to his unspoken desire, there was an urgent knocking on the door. “C-commander Pensword!” a nervous voice spoke.
“Enter. What is it?” Pensword asked, happy for the distraction from the map.
“Sir, we’re under attack,” the Gryphon exclaimed. “The avatar is holding the line, but he sent for you. He’s ordered no bloodshed, sir. We … we weren’t prepared for this.”
Pensword swore under his breath. “Right. We’ll have an ordered retreat back into the ship. If we have angry natives, we can hopefully keep our ground inside the vessel. We know the hallways and corridors better than the invaders, so we can set traps, and, if needed, relaunch to escape.” The Commander flew to the door, rushing over the Gryphon’s head. “I need you to make sure War Prince Bellacosa is safe and give him command of all Pony Soldiers on the ship. Relay Grif’s orders to him as well and tell him that I support them. I am going to join Grif at his location--” he paused. “--after I get my war armor. Also, what is attacking us? Gryphon? Sphynx? Diamond Dog? Nagas? Sasquatches?”
“It appears to be ... monkeys, sir.” The Gryphon’s tone was quite clear he wasn’t totally convinced, himself. “I’ve never heard of anything like it.”
Pensword paused in mid air as the mental image of a strange destroyed statue flashed before his eyes: a ruined green crown and an arm holding a torch with a man in rags raging at the sky. Something about a planet and apes. “That…” he shook his head and left the Gryphon on his own, heading towards his quarters to get his armor.
The Gryphon was already speeding to Prince Bellacosa’s quarters.
Grif growled as he conked another monkey over the head with his staff. The weapon was functional, albeig clumsy, in Grif’s talons as he dug on Taze’s knowledge of weapons. It didn’t help that he kept getting flashes of someone who looked like a small tattooed human using a staff to deal blasts of wind coming into his mind. The battle wasn’t going smoothly, and while they’d managed to avoid deaths, overall more and more Gryphons were injured or captured while their own pile of unconscious bound monkeys shifted in density as said monkeys were rescued, revived, and sent out to be knocked out cold again. Any other time, Grif would have chuckled at the school yard mechanics of it.
“Cheshire, get everyone inside. Take the prisoners if you can. We may need to bargain with them if things keep going this way,” Grif ordered. “I’ll cover the retreat.”
“Don’t do anything stupid, Grif,” Cheshire said as she retreated to the pile. “You heard him, boys. Move ‘em out!” she said as she picked up two of the prisoners and placed them on her back. The other soldiers followed suit, half acting as guard while the other half acted as transport. They wouldn’t be able to take many, but they would at least manage to get some hostages out of this.
“Damnit, Pensword, we could use some Thestral support out here!” Grif roared as he blocked a thrown rock with a flick of his staff. Grabbing the wind around him, he started throwing out small cyclones, hoping the confusion would make things easier.
From the ship’s deck, Pensword appeared with six Thestrals spread out around him. He looked at the battle field. Pensord looked at his Thestral brothers and sisters.
“Glad you could join us,” Grif said. “Cover the retreat. We need to get as many hostages as possible. We’ve already lost people.”
Pensword paused. He looked to the soldiers, “You heard Grif. Capture the enemy and get them back to the vessel.” He turned his head. “You are having us capture live prisoners when they have already killed our men? Men we cannot afford to lose? What is going on in that head?” He hissed, hovering at Grif’s side.
“They haven’t killed anyone yet,” Grif clarified. “They’ve captured people and hauled them off. I think they're expecting us to draw blood first, and something's telling me that would be a bad idea. You’re the one with the spirits. Can’t you feel it?” Grif ducked a staff and slammed the end of his under the monkey's chin. “There's a presence.”
Pensword ducked and deflected the club that had been aimed at his head with a rear hoof before turning around and whacking the offending Monkey with his training blades. The Monkey staggered back, a bloody nose forming. He swayed and fell down on his back. “Grif, the ship is haunted. I cannot tell what is on the Island, what is on the ship, and a day ago, my senses took a wing joint jab that actually knocked me over like a fainting goat. So at the moment, I am a little messed up,” he spoke angrily as he moved to pick up the Monkey he had knocked out, mainly to keep it from choking on its own blood.
Grif was about to respond when the attacks suddenly halted. “Why did they….?”
Bonk!
Something small landed on Pensword’s head before falling to the ground before them. Grif took a second to realise it was a peach pit. Looking up, Grif was unable to speak..
Pensword’s ears rang from the hit on his helmet. He looked at the pit and stepped back, looking up and around. “Is that a grenade?” His question trailed off as he caught sight of what Grif was looking at as well.
In the air above them, a small white cloud sat stationary. Standing proudly atop it was a figure right out of history. His golden boots were shiny and intricate; his golden armor likewise shone in the sunlight. Beneath it, his large muscles rippled under his red-brown fur. A long muscular tail swung idly behind him, sometimes brushing gently against his large red mane of hair that stretched down his back. His monkey-like face grinned mischievously as he looked down at them, the golden circlet around his forehead making it hard to look him in the face to see his burning yellow eyes. On top of his head, a cap sat with long elegant pheonix feathers stretching behind it and down its owner’s back. When he spoke, his voice carried a whimsical tone that almost belittled the ancient power it carried.
“A Pony?” the Monkey chuckled. “I thought I was clear to Celestia and Luna that I wouldn’t interfere and they were to leave me alone. It’s bad enough the birds get brave every fifty years or so, but now they bring Ponies to take my land?” With a double forward flip, he jumped from his cloud and landed before them, larger than life. Reaching behind his ear, he pulled a small rod into view. In an instant it grew larger and thicker until a large metal staff was held in his right hand. It was capped with two gold ends, but the main body was a deep scarlet colouring with the gold effigy of two dragons swirling along the handle, only to meet at the center. He spread his legs in an aggressive stance and smirked as he thrust his left arm out in front of him. “You’ve fought well, but now you face the might of Sun Wukong, The Great Sage Equal of Heaven!”
Grif stood there and gawked at the figure while somewhere in his mind, Taze let out the most unmanly squeal possible.
“Take?” Pensword muttered blankly. Matthew had mentally thrown up his hands and left for the moment. “Look,” he began a little tensely. “We need to repair a ship. Then we can return home to Equestria, make sure Princess Celestia knows that we just stopped a coup from succeeding in the Gryphon Empire, and I really, really, REALLY want to return home to my family. So can we please return to our repairs? We can leave you alone, and I will make sure that we never return to your land, barring any natural disasters.”
“Return my children. Then we’ll talk,” Wukong said in a dangerous tone, no longer the comedic figure he had been.
Pensword turned to a Thestral at his side. “You heard him. Release the prisoners.” He turned to the Monkey King. “As for those prisoners that you took, three of them are essential for our repairs, and the others for fetching supplies. We need them back.”
“You are in no place to be demanding things of me,” Wukong said dangerously. “As I said before, release my children and then we’ll talk.”
“And how do I know you are not going to just attack us when you have your children back safe?” Pensword shot back.
“You come to my kingdom, you capture my little monkeys, now you dare to insult my honor?” Wukong growled as he bared his fangs.
“So?” Pensword started. “What were we supposed to do? Drop into the ocean and die? Let your children slaughter us where we stood, unprovoked? I have a responsibility to keep as many lives as I can on this side of the veil.” He snorted and pawed the ground. “If I do not return, my wife is going to bring utter destruction upon those that kill me.”
“No one insults the honor of the Monkey King. And now you threaten me on top of it?” the monkey growled.
“Only because I have seen tactics like this before. I lost my family and village to the tactics you have employed upon me today. Those ‘birds,’ as you call them, offered then Princess Luna to negotiate. While that happened, they annihilated my village to the very last foal along with four other villages. I will not let that happen again,” Pensword returned, growl for growl.
“Then it is time, little Pony--” the monkey lifted his staff aggressively “--for you to learn what the Alicorns already fear!” And with that, The Monkey King charged.
Extended Holiday Ch 72: Journey to the West … Farther West Act 9
The Monkey King charged with a sudden burst of speed. He pulled his staff back to attack, swinging forward with powerful force. Pensword was already moving into a defensive blocking stance, trusting to Lord Hammer Strike’s armor and forging skills. However, before the blow could land, a blur sped into the Monkey King’s path as a Thestral colt stood his ground, holding a shield to block the attack. The sickening shriek of metal rending and tearing tore at Pensword’s eardrums. In less than a second, the Thestral was tossed aside while two perfectly cloven halves of the shield went flying, missing Ponies and Gryphons alike by a hair’s breadth, and in one’s case, giving a tail a trim. Eventually, the first half embedded itself into a tree halfway up. The other half ricocheted off the ship and buried itself underground, sending sand flying in a stinging spray.
Pensword ignored all of this as he dashed after the Thestral. He cared little for the fight. His only concern was the safety of his own. He reached the young colt, touched the body, and let loose a sigh of relief. “You’ll live, thank Faust.” He heard the sound of air behind him as he raced around, but he couldn’t process. He was too slow. Why did Celestia not warn him about this creature? Why didn’t Luna?
“Klang!”
The sound of metal on metal echoed into the distance as Grif stood before Pensword. Both Vigilance and Vengeance were drawn and locked with the Monkey King's staff. Sparks erupted between the two ancient weapons as the warriors struggled, the Monkey snarling at the Gryphon. Grif’s face was emotionless, but the strain on his body was obvious. His brow was sweating and he was visibly struggling to match the Monkey’s force. Wukong pushed forward, sending Grif off balance as the Monkey’s strength overwhelmed him. Grif grabbed onto the wind around him and blurred as he appeared behind the Monkey and swung his blades. Wukong blocked the strike with ease.
Gryphons watched the fight in fear, Thestrals in anger, and Monkeys in utter confusion as Grif continued his assault, taking advantage of his superior speed over the Monkey’s monstrous strength. The wind blasted over the crowd with every blow, the earth groaned with every movement. The fight seemed to shake the very island as the storm took on the mountain ... and was loosing.
Anyone watching the fight could see the flow of the battle. Grif’s speed was indeed an advantage, but it was not enough to compete with the experience, endurance, and sheer strength of the ancient immortal. Grif was soon showing signs of fatigue. His movements were slower, his attacks more obvious. In a last ditch effort, Grif swung Vigilance at the Monkey King's left lower side for the Monkey King to block the attack. Wukong reacted as Grif had hoped and whipped his staff to take the blow only for Vengeance to come around from the left with a well aimed blow at the Monkey’s head. The sword made contact with a hollow thud before the Monkey attacked, sending the Gryphon flying into a nearby tree and through it, felling the tree to the ground with a loud thud from it’s now missing trunk.
“You fight well, stranger,” Wukong growled as he stood upright and began to move towards Grif’s prone form. “For that, I will give you an honorable end,” he said as he approached, much to the dismay of the spectators as a wall of Monkeys blocked all possible routes for assistance. Wukong’s shadow fell over Grif’s still form as he looked up, squinting, Vigilance and Vengeance still clutched in his taloned hands as his arms lay limp at his sides, his belly exposed. The Great Sage raised his staff and prepared for the killing blow when an unmistakable crack like breaking glass sounded through the clearing, followed by a metallic Klink!
The area was silent as the Monkey King's circlet fractured and then broke where Vengeance had struck. The golden circlet loosened for the first time in thousands of years and fell to the sand where it shattered. Wukong stared down at the shards in disbelief before the remnants of the circlet began to glow. Suddenly the shards burst into a thousand pinpricks of light, which swiftly coalesced, shot into the sky, and promptly faded away. The Monkeys whispered amongst themselves as Sun Wukong, The Great Sage Equal to Heaven, stopped dead. Then it began. It started as a low rumble at first, but gradually grew louder and louder as the Monkey King's body shook with laughter.
“I’m… free,” he chuckled. “That damned band that Buddha gave the monk, the control collar; it’s gone! My little ones, your king is free again!” And then he broke into a full throated laugh as he planted his staff in the earth and tossed his head back. The Monkeys looked on, stone silent for a moment before erupting into cheers and hollers as they celebrated with their king. Smiling, Wukong looked down at Grif. “What’s your name, stranger?”
“G--Grif,” Grif groaned out where he lay. Wukong chuckled as he held out his hand.
“Perhaps Sun Wukong has been too hasty. I must have been wrong about you. Perhaps we can put this behind us and start over?”
Grif stared at him for a moment, the silence speaking volumes between the two warriors. Wukong knew he was wrong, but his pride would keep him from ever giving a formal apology. The choice was Grif’s whether to be prideful as well and demand it, or humble himself and make peace with the Monkey King of legend. Taze seemed to help the issue by replaying what the stories had said happened to the gods who were too proud to acknowledge the Monkey’s power.
Grif took the hand as the Monkey pulled his battered and bruised body up. “I would be a fool to make an enemy of the Handsome Monkey King,” he chuckled. “Perhaps we can settle this like real men? You have taken my family, and I have taken yours. Let’s return each others’ and talk?” The Monkey clapped his other hand on the Gryphon’s elbow and received the gesture in kind. Breaking the gesture off, Grif nodded to pensword. “Get the Monkeys out of there.”
“And you, little one,” Wukong said, pointing to one of the better armed Monkeys. “Run back and tell my Monkeys to free the birds. Have their wounds seen to and harvest some more peaches. We will be having guests tonight.” The Monkey in question rushed to do his king's bidding.
Pensword looked up in confusion, shock, and bafflement. “Asia is insane!” he shouted. Grif couldn’t help but smile as he recognized Matthew shining through. The Pony shook his head. “Look, this is… what about my ponies? You have two in your custody.” he shakily got to his hooves, his body still not fully recovered from his previous injuries. “Do you intend to keep them?” He asked in a pained tone of voice, even as he worked to help the colt to stand.
“They’ll be fine. You’ll see them when we get to my home,” Wukong said. “It’s not far from here. Just up the hill.”
Pensword slowly nodded before he turned to face the ship, his face falling into a neutral expression. “Release them,” he muttered as he sat down. “Grif… get me that spell. I am having a break down and Matthew is going to pieces. I am unfit. I am hereby relinquishing command until I can regain mental stability. You have full command of all Thestral and Equestrian forces, meaning Cosy answers to you.” He took a halting breath. “Get me a Dream Walker.”
“Deep breaths, my friend. All will be well,” Grif assured him with a hand on his shoulder. “My friend, please give us time to prepare. Those of us who can will be honored to dine with you tonight.” Grif bowed his beak to the Monkey, who nodded his head in return before returning to his cloud and flying off. The Monkeys around them retreated into the brush, rejoined by the released prisoners.
Pensword sat at the private table in the royal conference room, “How did that happen?” he cried, but Grif could tell the emotion and tone control was not Pensword’s. It seemed that Matthew was actually speaking out for the first time in a long time. “How did this go so insane?” He threw his hooves into the air.
“Five days ago you got married into the clan that shunned your father, which is good news; you got married again, which was odd, but still I can understand that; but in the last few days we literally meet someone who saw us like we would see our heroes on Earth. Then we stop a coup, an outright impossible thing, but it doesn’t end there, no. We are getting away with commandeering an actual royal airship, and now this. THIS TAKES IT ALL!” he roared, hoping to Faust the room was soundproof. “We literally met an actual Earth Legend. The book by DaVinci is a fluke, an oddity because of it being tied to our own field. That could work. But you just met the Monkey King, Taze. Your mythological idol! You keep going on and on about him as long as I have known you and I … I have had it! You just--I just almost died fighting that thing. And what did you do to the crown? Did you not say that it was impossible to remove?”
“Sir!” Moon Kicker walked up to Pensword, saluted, and then proceeded to smack him across the face. “Get ahold of yourself!”
“I am not Pensword. I am Matthew Washington Conner, and I am going to have my piece!” he roared, scaring even himself as he suddenly eeped and immediately began to shrink back into himself. “I am--I have had it, Taze. I want to go home. I am done, okay? I--I just want to curl up right now and ... why didn’t anyone tell us about this being?”
Grif twisted the dial on his bracer, becoming Taze in a flash of light. “Matthew, at home we have a manticore, a phoenix, and a dog made out of wood hanging around as pets. We have Pegasi controlling the weather and Unicorns casting magic. We have time traveled twice, and Shawn walks through fire. Tell me why a single mythological figure is too much.”
“Because it’s a literal page out of our own mythology. I can handle the species, I can handle the archetypes, but an actual creature? Name and all? That is crossing the line. If this is true,” he whispered. “What else might be true?”
“Isn’t that why we need to gather information? Maybe it’s a coincidence,” Taze offered. “Or maybe he’s the real deal, but we don’t know at this moment, and currently we have the chance to find out!”
Pensword sighed and looked weak and worn out. “Grif, I really want to go home. I have been here for over twenty years, and I miss Earth.” He snorted. “Also, Pensword is planning to have a long talk with Luna and Celestia.” His right ear flicked. “I don’t care if I am not using their titles, Pensword, I am an American, and I think I earned the right to use their names alone.” Fortunately, only those who were aware of Pensword’s split personalities were present. Otherwise, there would likely be a movement to have Pensword committed.
“Look, Matthew, we will get home. I promise you that. But please, for tonight, breathe deep and relax. We’ll get our dress armor on and enjoy ourselves. Maybe Wukong will give you a giant peach to bring home to Moon River. She likes sweet fruit, doesn’t she?” Taze asked.
“Yeah, she loves sweet fruits,” the Pegasus admitted. He shook his head. “I am a father. That … is weird. Still, I guess I am going to go back to being in the background. Just … can we have times where I get to be at the forefront?” He looked at his hooves. “It feels funny, yet normal having hooves and standing on what feels like my fingers. And yet know that I’m strong enough to kick down a door.”
“So what do you say? Let’s go find out just how linked Earth and Equestria were,” Taze said.
Matthew nodded his head as his body language shifted and the more confident and prickly Pensword returned, sitting at the table to look at Taze. “I am ready. I will be on my best behavior. Just, I thought I was not as dependant as I am on Matthew.” He winced. "Though I really wish he would not combine words.”
“I need to go get Avalon,” Taze told him. “I don’t think this is something I could get away with, leaving her out of this. You going to be okay?”
“I … think so,” Pensword answered with a nod. “Still, this is going to be very ... strange. I-” he paused. “Look, I know how to handle Western politics, not Asian politics; especially if they…” he closed his eyes. “These are Matthew’s memories. I personally know how to handle combat and war politics. Matthew is my more diplomatic side.”
“Just let me-” Taze switched the dial, swapping back to Grif “-handle the talking. I think we can work this out.”
“Very well. I shall remain silent. I just wonder what would have happened if I tried to block that hit with my wing blades.”
“Best case scenario? He’d have shattered the bones in your wing,” Grif admitted. “Likely, he’d have torn it off.”
Pensword shuddered. “I do not want to think about that. It would end my military career right there.” He shuddered again. “Not being able to fly.” He paused. “How can you stand being in that human body anyway? You have no wings, no means of three axis of movement.”
Grif shrugged. “I just do. Anyway, we have a dinner date, and I need to inform my wife. You know how long it takes females to get ready.” He chuckled before heading out the door.
Pensword blinked, confused. “Matthew gets the joke, yet I do not find it tasteful. A female Thestral that cannot be ready for a date hunt in less than ten minutes is a poor mate indeed.”
The hill Wukong referred to earlier had in fact been the volcano in question. The handholds and carved steps were how his Monkeys got back to their home. Inside the crater, the Monkeys lived in small, but strong, wooden huts, or in caves at the edge of the crater. It had been little trouble for the Gryphons and Thestrals to fly there, though Bellacosa had to be carried. The engineers had been left behind with a few guards to continue the repairs since they didn’t wish to push Wukong’s hospitality too far.
True to his word, when they arrived, Wukong had a large table set with platters of peaches as big as footballs. The fruit was sweet, succulent, and smelled amazing. The Monkeys seemed to hold no formal ceremony before eating, as the only deity they kept sat at the head of the table.
Wukong referred to all the Monkeys present as his children, and they in turn seemed to have a fondness for referring to him as grandfather. It had taken time, but Grif eventually breached the topic of humans over their meal. It had been a somewhat shocking revelation to find out Wukong was indeed the Sun Wukong from a distant world populated by humans.
Grif sat at the seat of honor next to Wukong with Avalon waiting to his right as she carved into a peach with a talon and speared the slice before biting into it. Snowy perched atop her chair, looking down on the festivities while keeping a watchful eye on her mistress. The negotiations had taken some time before Avalon was willing to come, but ultimately Grif got her to relent and let go of her grudge, at least for the night. Besides, the prospect of meeting such a powerful warrior intrigued her. It wasn’t every day she found someone who was stronger than her husband after all. And it was the first time she had ever been able to meet this strange new species, though she’d read about them in books from time to time.
Eventually Grif revealed the human nature of himself and Matthew, as well as Conor and Shawn, much to the shock of Pensword. Grif then proceeded to tell Wukong their story, which Wukong enjoyed immensely. After the Monkey King had drank a good amount of his peach wine, Grif decided to ask about Wukong’s own story and the inconsistency of his presence with the story of the Journey to the West. The Monkey King seemed very uneasy about the subject, but faithfully answered Grif’s questions with his own version of the story. While parts seemed obviously embellished to portray the Monkey King as an innocent and wronged soul, Grif had been genuinely surprised to find Wukong attributing much more credit to Pigsy and Sandy, as he had fondly referred to them, than the story itself had. He also praised Tripitaka greatly, showing a great respect that bordered on love for the monk.
“Finally, when our journey ended, Buddha rewarded each of us. The others were honored to accept anything he gave them; however, when I was offered Buddhahood and immortality, I found the prospect unappealing. I was already immortal, much more immortal than some gods even with everything I’d consumed. I’d had enough of gods and heaven and being under Buddha’s thrall. Furthermore, I had already lost my family during the five centuries under the five elements mountain, and I was tired of heaven and gods and enlightenment and the way. So, I asked instead that Buddha return my little Monkeys to me and place us somewhere beyond his reach or the reach of any earthly or heavenly god. I wanted only peace to settle and be the king my people needed. That, and a place to grow my peaches.” Wukong smiled. “He grumbled about it, but in the end karma demanded he do this, and Buddha could not have bad karma. My first task when I came here was to visit this world's immortals and make it clear I would not be a threat or a pawn for any of them. Then I proceeded to find my island and keep out all prying eyes. And so,” he spread his arms to the area around them. “Monkeygascar.” He chuckled. “You like that? I found that every other name is a pun, so why not?”
“I will have words with two of them when I get back,” Pensword grumbled. “Because you were a complete surprise. Utterly and totally.” He snorted. “If I had known you and your children were here, I would have found someplace else to land, or at least given myself as tribute and a bargaining chip to allow us to repair the ship. That way you would have assurance of no trouble, and you would have a means to--” he shook his head. “Way too close to another war. How many am I going to see before I die?”
“War.” The great king sighed. “It seems it exists on every world. I have seen far too much these thousands of years, my friend. Be glad you will eventually be past the reach of war.”
“But what about you? You do not have war here. You only have to maintain border security, which, as I have seen from the outside, is a forgone conclusion.” He looked at his two peach pits. “I do not have that forgone conclusion.” He shook his head. “My apologies. It is just that as the seasons change it is hard not to remember the camping trips my mother took me on and guided me through.”
“That is something I cannot speak on,” Wukong responded. “I was born of a mountain. I never had a father or mother, but please, my friend, take the advice of an ancient Monkey. The past is like a vibrant rainbow. We can only look at the colors, but never touch them. It is best simply to take it in, because if you chase it, it will elude you.”
Pensword nodded. “Just take the journey, and maybe, you find it bridging your path,” he said as a memory from Matthew surfaced: a car trip that literally drove under a rainbow back on Earth. He smiled at the memory. “That was an odd sight, traveling underneath it.”
“Now, I do not know how things have changed on earth,” the Monkey King said as he motioned and a jade cup of wine was placed in front of Grif, Pensword, and Avalon. “But in my time, those who would be close friends and allies would join in sworn brotherhood. I would become brothers with you,” he said solemnly. “Your enemies will be mine and your hardships shall be my hardships,” the Monkey King swore. “Until the end of time, I do call you my brothers and sister in all but blood, and I offer my strength to you.”
Grif repeated the oath without a second thought, taking the glass and holding it to Wukong as Wukong held his cup to them. Pensword rose his own cup in his hoof and repeated the oath as well, word for word. He waited and followed the tradition of the Monkey King. Avalon looked uncertainly at her husband, but managed to repeat the oath without stumbling. Nevertheless, the seriousness of those words weighed heavily upon her.
In unison the four of them drank from their cups, sealing the oath. The night concluded quickly after that. The Monkeys went to their homes to sleep while their guests and former captives returned to the ship. Over the next three days the engineers continued their work, now under the protective care of Wukong and his people. During this time, Grif continued to visit with the Monkey King and talk with him, receiving his wisdom on matters of combat and other such areas. Through Wukong's guidance, Grif even managed to start to truly grasp meditation. The two sparred constantly, and while Grif always lost, the thrill of facing such an opponent never died away. He could leave the Gantrithor in the morning energetic and optimistic and return late at night tired and bruised, but happy. It seemed almost too soon when the engineers announced the thrusters were repaired and the ship was ready to be powered back up.
The crew were already in their stations at the dawn of the fourth day. The Gantrithor’s engines hummed back to life as the ship lifted from the ground. Only Grif, Pensword, and Avalon stayed below to give their parting words to the Great Sage.
Pensword stepped forward, handing over a slightly large weaving. A metal ring with plant fiber stretched about to create a web. “I hereby, on word and authority of the Dream Clan, leave this emblem of protection from nightmares. As one brother to another, I extend the safety of part of my clan to protect your children, should you wish to accept.”
“And I gratefully accept and extend to you the same offer, my friend,” Wukong said.
“I’m afraid I haven’t much that I can offer to your people, Wukong, but if you have need of our aid, we will come. My magic is at your disposal, though I’ve still much to learn,” Avalon said, bowing.
Wukong smiled as he pulled something from behind his back. It was a massive banana leaf lined with gold amongst the veins of the leaf. “On my journey to the west, I acquired this banana leaf fan from a woman known as Princess Iron Fan. The wind reacts to you as it reacted to her. It may not be able to tap into your magic, but perhaps it may help you direct it. Please take it as my gift for you.”
Avalon took it gently, almost reverently. “Thank you, your highness.”
“Uh uh, little sister. We are sworn siblings. You do not refer to me by title,” he chided, wagging a finger playfully as he smiled.
Avalon couldn’t help but laugh. “This is going to take some getting used to.”
Grif embraced Wukong gently. “I count the days until we can fight again, brother,” he said as he released the Monkey and stepped back. “The Bladefeathers value family, and we will not turn our backs on our own. If ever you ever have need of me, just call.”
“And likewise. You three are always welcome on Monkeygascar. Should you find yourself in need, do not hesitate to ask, and I will grant you as much of my power as I can.”
The three bowed gently to him and he returned it before they wordlessly flew to the ship. This journey had lasted long enough, and it was time to return to New Unity. The Gantrithor hummed as the captain's voice echoed through the ship. “Brace for full speed.”
“Better brace yourself,” Grif warned Pensword as he and Avalon grabbed the guard rails of the ship.
Pensword was about to give a retort when he was chided mentally by Matthew. He followed the suggestion and muttered to Grif in Dragonic. “Matthew is being a little more chatty lately. I wonder why.” He looked to the the others silently. He couldn’t wait to write the letter to Lunar Fang telling her they were finally coming home.
With the roar of a tyrannosaurus, the ship launched forward and Pensword nearly felt his hooves pulled out from under him. Grif smiled at him as they adjusted to the inertia. The end to their journey was finally in sight.
Three days later Lunar Fang hovered nervously in the air, a spy glass in hoof as she scanned the horizon. Fizzpot stood at her side with Moon River on his back as he watched. The little foal held to the last letter sent by Pensword and looked excitedly at the sky. Hammer Strike stared at his handiwork, having had to build yet another port designed for a larger airship in accordance to the diagram Pensword had sent.
“Daddy!” Moon River cried as she pointed to the horizon. She giggled as she waved her hooves about, smacking Fizzpot in the muzzle with the letter. By this time his horn had grown back halfway.
Lunar Fang swung the telescope to face the speck and her jaw dropped. She slowly lowered the spyglass. “By Luna’s tail and mane,” she whispered. She looked to Moon River, “Well, you’ve certainly got your father’s hearing,” she laughed.
Moon River squealed at the compliment. “Fizzpot, Fizzpot. Daddy, Daddy!” she shouted with joy.
“How close are they?” Shrial asked as she peered into the distance. An armed guard had escorted her out with Kalima and Thalia. Her stomach had expanded to the point where a Pony could call her portly if it weren’t for the fact that she’d dismember them in a heartbeat.
“Patience, daughter. The danger is past. Grif is just fine, and so is the crew.”
“I don’t want to be patient. I want to see him.”
Kalima just shook her head knowingly and chuckled. “Anxious to meet your new pride mate?”
Shrial’s eyes grew flinty. “I have some words for her.”
“Don’t be too hard on her, dear. She was just trying to look after Grif. You would have done the same thing.”
“That doesn’t excuse her recklessness. After I’ve had the twins, I’m going to teach her how to fight properly, Farflyer Clan or no.”
“I’m just looking forward to seeing The Gantrithor up close and personal,” Thalia said. “It’s not that often a Gryphon gets the chance to see the pride and joy of the empire.”
The Gryphon Slayers spread out in formation, their dress armor in place to receive their commander safe and sound. Fox Feather stood at the front, holding the Slayers’ banner, watching with stoic calmness. As the ship drew close enough to make out details on the deck, she barked, “Slayers, present arms!” With one fluid motion the Gryphon Slayers lowered their weapons and presented them for review. At the very end, Lighting Dust stood following suit, half a beat behind.
Vital Spark gawked. “Woah. Just how big is that thing?”
Hammer Strike stared at the ship as it moved closer to the new docks. “Glad you at least sent the specifications for the scale of the ship…” he muttered to himself.
The southern half of the castle had two tall towers, connected together by a new wooden structure with heavy supports. Multiple platforms split out from the primary platform, each extending into a slot in which airships could dock individually. From the ends to the center they sank down, effectively making the entire collection of smaller docks into a cradle for one giant airship.
The Gantrithor slowed on its approach to the dock, edging methodically towards the slot. With the ship’s massive size, the process had to be carefully done, lest the ship tear through the dock’s structure. Descending gradually until the deck was level with the dock, the ship’s lift field seemed to help with the stress on the wooden structure as it rose gently near the ship's hull. The ship let out several groans as the thrusters died down. A Gryphon appeared on deck with a large steel ramp, which he used to bridge the gap between the deck and the ground. The Gryphon returned to the inside of the ship and several moments later, familiar figures began to file off.
“You’re late, Grif, Pensword.” Hammer Strike called out.
Pensword couldn’t answer as he was suddenly tackled by the adorable form of his little daughter as she shrieked “Daddy!” over and over and over again. Lunar Fang was a little more elegant in her approach as she flew to her life mate and kissed him gently, deliberately ignoring the Changeling who was finding it very, very hard to not feed on the emotional reunion. The kiss turned a bit deeper as one of the guards snapped a photo.
“Well, you know, we had the whole ‘saving the emperor for the first time in recorded history’ thing going,” Grif said, chuckling. “Oh, and also, I fought a shark.”
“With just your talons?”
“Didn’t use them,” Grif said proudly. “I employed your secret ‘punch it’s face till it dies’ style of combat.”
“As long as you did it right.” Hammer Strike nodded. “So, who’s the new one hiding on the deck behind you?”
Grif turned to Avalon and signaled her forwards. “Come on, he won’t hurt you.”
Avalon slowly approached until she stood next to Grif and smiled nervously as she locked eyes with the clearly pregnant Shrial. She then turned her gaze back to Hammer Strike. A snowy owl circled around her, hooting comfortingly. “Hello,” she said as she waved.
“Hello. Might as well get introductions out of the way. I am Hammer Strike, and I would assume you are Avalon?”
“You assume correctly. Grif’s told me a lot about you.”
“Should I ask what he’s mentioned?” He said, glancing over to Grif for a moment.
“Oh, a bit of this, a bit of that,” she said with a mischievous smile.
“I told her you're a reclusive self-made noble with a major revenge scheme and endless wealth who will stop at nothing till the lives of all those who’ve wronged him are totally destroyed.” Grif rolled his eyes.
“Well, at least you didn’t spout off what the history books do,” Hammer Strike replied with a shrug.
Pensword gave out a small yelp as he landed on the ground. Lunar Fang was firmly nipping his ear and pulling it down in a manner unmistakably like a certain red haired girl with a squinty eyed man Matthew remembered from a television series back on Earth. Her eyes glinted like steel. “You got hurt?” she spoke through the bite. “Honestly, I can’t seem to let you out of the den without something going wrong with you. I literally only just got you healed up from the last time.” She spat his ear out. “Besides, you need to plan something big for Moon River.” She smiled as she stepped back. “My life mate, meet the first conquest of your battle tasted daughter. She saw through the guise of this Changeling, broke his horn, and led the foals in our suite through battle, terrorizing not just the enemy, but the parents as well. Lord Hammer Strike is currently building her a weapon from the horn. What shall we do with this creature?”
Pensword looked at his wife. He raised one eyebrow before speaking. “I see thou hast plans already for this one. What has she named him? What would you do with this one?”
“Fizzpot!” Moon River cried with a giggle. “Fizzpot!”.
“Ah. Well, Mr. Fizzpot, it seems that you shall be staying with our family for the foreseeable future,” Pensword said as he looked to his wife, waiting for her to speak.
“He shall become head butler for House Pen,” she said with a nod. “So, what have you done, my mate?” she asked, placing her muzzle under Pensword’s with a coy smile.
“Well, let’s see… I think I am going to go with the less shocking of the two pieces of information.” He saw Vital Spark trot into view while the Gryphon Slayers stood on the wooden dock ways. He raised his voice. “It is my privilege to present to those of New Unity, War Prince Bellacosa of the Crystal Empire: Savior of the Gryphon Emperor, Daedalus, and killer of Traitors.” The small crystal pony stepped from an open doorway flanked by three Crystal Pony guards.
“Was that title given to him by the Emperor to honor his escape from the Crystal Empire?” Lunar Fang whispered.
Pensword smiled as he moved his muzzle to tickle his life mate’s ear. “Nope. At least ten Gryphons died by his blade alone.”
“Such a boast at his age?” Lunar fang asked, shocked. “Such a thing would win him a chieftain's daughter.”
Bellacosa smiled and waved down at the gathered crowd. “Hi, everypony, we’re back!”
“‘Welcome back, Bellacosa. Have fun?” Hammer Strike asked.
“Yup. Loads!” Cosy said, grinning.
“Good. Think you’ll be sticking around Unity for a bit?”
“As long as you need us to. Oh, and I’ve got something you might wanna look at. Well, four somethings, actually.”
“Exciting. Magical in nature?”
“Uhuh.”
“Then we’ll have someone else with us as well,” Hammer replied as he turned to the side. “Clover, could you come here?”
Clover walked up next to Hammer Strike and looked up at the foal.
“Hi, Miss Clever,” Cosy called as he waved. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”
“Prince Bellacosa.” She bowed her head gently.
“Bellacosa has something to show us later. Specifically you, because it’s magically based and I don’t have a full knowledge of magical artifacts.”
“I look forward to it eagerly.” Her smile faltered. “Your mother was a good mare when I knew her. You have my condolences.”
A shadow crossed Cosy’s face as he made his way slowly down the gangplank. “Thank you. We all miss her.”
“Cosy,” Hammer Strike started as he reached into his coat and pulled out a knife. Its handle had been specifically shaped for a Unicorn’s magic, embedded with a green gem to help channel the arcane energies. The blade was a dark black that gleamed in the sunlight. “It is with great pleasure that I give you a weapon from my personal armory: Toothpick.”
Cosy looked up in surprise. “What’s this for?”
“What title was just added recently?” Hammer asked.
“And you want to give me this just because of what happened in Gryphonia?”
“You made it out with minimal damage, fought in battle, helped the emperor. I don’t see what not.”
Cosy took it gently and buckled the sheath around his waist. “Thank you,” he said.
“You earned it.”
Quite suddenly, something small and blue bowled into the Crystal Prince and sent him flying onto his back. A large, inquisitive pair of eyes looked into his face as Moon River inspected him from an angle that was entirely too close for comfort before leaning forward and licking the tip of his muzzle.
“Uh … hi,” Cosy said, taken aback by the sudden tackling. “You must be Moon River, right?”
She giggled before wrapping her hooves around him. Cosy blushed immediately, but didn’t move to dislodge her, instead letting her have her fun.
Pensword looked a little worried. “Dear,” he leaned close again to his mate’s ear. “Does she do that to every new Pony she meets?”
“She isn’t quite so… clingy with new Ponies,” Lunar Fang said. “Friendly, yes, but I’ve never seen her so attached to someone before.”
Pensword stared off into space as the gears turned in his brain. FInally, he sighed. “Well, I hope he doesn’t mind a wet ear,” he muttered as Moon River shifted to nibble on Cosy’s ear. He couldn’t help but laugh at the scene and hope someone was taking pictures.
Grif and Avalon moved past the group to approach his family. Moments before Grif got to them, he, too, was hit by a blur as Sylvio pounced him and started licking his face. Grif laughed. “I missed you, too, boy,” he said as he tried to pull the timberwolf from his face before his feathers got stuck together. “Down, boy. Easy.”
“He missed you almost as much as I did,” Shrial said, smiling down at the scene.
“Well, I hope that this shows just how much I missed you,” Grif said as he slowly got to his his feet and presented her with a large serrated tooth on a cord. “Taken from the beast's mouth, the hard way.”
“And I wondered why these girls were such fighters,” she said as she patted her distended stomach. She laughed as she took the tooth and kissed her husband on the beak. “It’s about time you got home.”
“I hope everythings been ok?” he asked her. “You look tired. Are you sleeping well?”
“A woman always gets tired when she’s taking care of three.” Shrial smiled. “It’ll be worth it in the end though.” She started suddenly as a talon flew to her stomach. “Oh. Feels like they know you’re home.” She laughed. “They’re kicking.”
“May I?” Grif asked, reaching out a talon.
“Of course. They’ve been waiting for you, after all.” She grabbed the talon and guided it to where the growing twin cubs were stirring the most.
“Hi, girls,” Grif said softly. He let out a few gentle dove-like coo’s. “They are strong.” Grif laughed as he felt the kicks. “They’ll be terrors on the battlefield.”
“Let’s hope they don’t have to go through a whole war like we did, though.” Shrial smirked. “One is enough for any Gryphon’s lifetime, I think.”
“Well,” Grif smiled, turning to Avalon. “My lovely wife, may I introduce you to Avalon, formerly of the Farflyer clan. I’m sorry that you didn’t get to meet her before our wedding. I hope the two of you will get along.”
“I think we will,” Shrial said. “Though, Avalon, a warning. Once I’m finished nursing these two, you and I are going to have a long talk involving several sharp and pointy objects. Our husband hides nothing from me, and you’re just a little too much like him for your own good. You need training.”
Avalon ruffled her feathers as she flushed, half enraged, half embarrassed. Snowy cooed gently and Avalon’s blush increased. “Not now, Snowy.”
“And this is my adopted mother, Kalima, and my sister, Thalia,” Grif said, gesturing to them as he pulled out another shark tooth necklace and offered it to Thalia. The tooth was smaller, but from the same shark nonetheless.
Thalia did something Grif never thought he would ever see her do. She smiled. “Thanks, Grif.” Kalima chuckled at her daughter’s apparent shift in behavior. Thalia had lightened up a great deal since they’d all settled down, and the clan respected her all the more for it.
Grif pulled out one last necklace. Unlike the others, this one held a larger tooth crowned by two smaller ones beside it. He offered it to Kalima with his head bowed. “And the true heart of the prize, as is your right and my privilege, wise one,” he said, presenting it to her.
“It will go amongst my closest treasures, my son.” Kalima smiled radiantly as she took the necklace. “And you’ve brought me a new daughter.” She embraced Avalon, then turned a quizzical eye back to Grif. “And if I’m not mistaken, you’ve found another treasure,” she said, pointing to the belt and its great sapphire wrapped around Grif’s waist.
“It was my wedding gift.” He smiled. “Now if I can just locate the topaz bracer then perhaps I can bring our race closer to it’s better glory.”
“It will take more than trinkets to change our nature. But knowing you, I’m sure you’ll find the way.” Kalima chuckled. “And I think you’ll be pleased with the progress of your little friend. Clover and Rook have done very well with him while you’ve been gone,” Kalima said as she motioned over to a blushing Vital Spark.
“I can see some muscle growth,” Grif confirmed with a chuckle as he eyed Vital. “You got Rook angry at you, didn’t you?”
“I regret nothing,” Vital said, grinning with a barely suppressed chuckle.
“So, anything exciting happen while we were away?” Grif asked them
“Changeling invasion, nobility visits, I nearly killed a young Hurricane who was way too cocky, and we have Gryphon delegates who came here expecting their coup to succeed,” Hammer Strike said as he walked towards the gangplank leading to the interior of the ship. Bellacosa, who now carried Moon River on his back, followed close behind while Clover, Pensword, and Lunar Fang followed behind Hammer Strike. “The usual.”
Lunar Fang sighed as she saw the glint in Pensword’s eye. “Oh, can I deal with them?” He asked with a false sweetness in his tone of voice.
“Too late,” Grif said as a familiar Gryphoness flew overhead towards Unity. “Chesh will have them dead by the time you get there.”
Pensword frowned. “But I am the military leader. At least let me get the paperwork signed for their execution as spies first. That way she can have more time to plan her revenge,” he said, sighing reluctantly. Then his eyes widened as the Demon Damned lined along the deck. “Oh yes. Um, dear. Uh ... I might have ended up adopting some Gryphons as Children.”
Lunar Fang’s eye twitched, but to her credit, she lasted a whole two minutes before the loud “WHAT?” echoed around them.
“Yeah, I have another team. Meet the Demon Damned. They pretty much gave everything up to follow me. In Gryphonia, they are considered dead.” He sighed. “So… we are now going to have Gryphons teaching us techniques.” The six Gryphons in question filed in behind their commander. Pensword’s cutie mark had been painted on their armor. They looked at Lunar Fang and promptly gave her a salute followed by a wing bow, their beaks touching the deck.
Lunar Fang wasn’t quite sure how to react as she inspected them. “Uh, rise?”
They did so and Kahn stepped forward. “As Pensword’s mate, our oath extends to you and all you hold dear. We are yours to command.”
“Thank … you?” Lunar Fang said, more asking than saying.
Kahn nodded as he and the Demon Damned formed up around Pensword and Lunar Fang. “Shall we go, sir? I think your friends are waiting.”
Pensword nodded his head. “Yeah, I’d rather keep an eye on Moon River. I have no clue what she would do to Cosy if left alone.” He paused. “Dear… how long have I been away? She seems to be a little more along than I had thought.”
“She’s been developing quickly. I’m honestly not sure what's causing it,” Lunar Fang admitted.
Pensword bobbed his head up and down. “Well, still, I need to plan her ceremony. Who needs to be at her table?” The conversation was suddenly derailed as Pensword and Lunar Fang both were rendered speechless by an event that may cause Tartarus to freeze over. Hammer Strike was yelling. Actually yelling. His voice was animated with excitement. The companions immediately rushed down to the hold.
“Carved golems made from amethyst using an above basic logic magical network system? Fantastic… Though, why and how in the world did you find these in the Gryphon Empire?” Hammer Strike questioned aloud.
“How do you know so much about golems? I thought you said you didn’t know anything about magical constructs,” Clover said, surprised.
“One, I was inside a golem for plenty of years. Two, it’s a basic magical network system, at least, I thought it was basic…”
“The Crystal Empire was known for its magical technology. Maybe they discovered something new?”
“You know, I could always just ask ‘em for you. They listen to me,” Cosy said, smiling.
“Please do. I’m curious,” Hammer replied.
“No problem.” Cosy smiled as he approached the crystal golems. “Alpha, deactivate sleep mode. I have some friends who want to meet you.” One of the two armored statues rose to its feet as its eye’s flashed, indicating it was active. “Alpha, my friends here want to know. Do you know how you were made and who made you?”
“Query acknowledged. Accessing databanks. Unit Alpha and fellow units are the result of a program. Codename: Project Sentinel. Project Sentinel was formed by the Crystal Empire War Drive Division on orders from Queen Blood Orchid for aiding Equestria in the Third Gryphon War. Project leads, first lead, lead arcanist: Stunning Array. In charge of sentinel golems. Second lead, lead alchemist: Caring Circlet. In charge of Pegasus Deployment Platform Nebula’s design.”
Pensword coughed violently into his hooves as the name was mentioned.
“You alright Pensword?” Hammer Strike questioned.
“Yeah, yeah…. I am okay. Just, well, that is something for later on in the tour.”
“With that kind of reaction, I want to see whatever it is next.” Hammer frowned for a moment before turning back towards Bellacosa and the Golems. “How many units exist currently?”
“Four current prototype units,” Alpha responded.
“Yourself included?”
“Affirmative.”
“What is your current primary and secondary directives?”
“Suspected threat level is below 10%. Primary directive is to obey commands of whoever bears the marker until told to deactivate or threat level reaches 10% or higher. Secondary directive: observe active perimeter of 20 meters circular of user location for threats.”
“Current threat levels?”
“Presently, this unit detects a threat level of -500%. Area populated by Equestrian ponies and allied Gryphons. Presence of Lord Hammer Strike detected,” Alpha confirmed.
After a pause, Hammer Strike blinked a few times in shock. “I’m actually surprised they programmed that. Why did they program that?”
“Threat level determination reduced when presence of select figure confirmed. Commander Pensword -25%. Grif, son of Graf, clan Bladefeather -45%; Lord Hammer Strike -500%; Luna Galaxia -250%; Celestia Galaxia -750%.”
“Shouldn’t the collective percentages be added together, rather than the highest?”
“Commander Pensword is currently recovering from serious injury. Fighting capabilities are hindered. Score has been adjusted until full recovery. Grif Bladefeather is still outside of vessel. Current response time reducing threat deterrence.”
“You clever golems… I need to get one,” Hammer Strike commented, nodding his head in approval. “Or make one. Either works. So, what’s next?”
“This ship is massive. I, for one, would like to know about the power source,” Clover spoke up. “I studied a stormstone core once and there is no fathomable way one could move an object this big.”
“Read my mind on that one,” Hammer Strike commented. “A ship of this scale must require serious amounts of power.”
Pensword nodded his head. “Follow me. I will lead you to the core. It is, well, I can say it is not a stormstone. I saw a cracked one in Fort Triumph, and it is nothing like the core here.”
“I’ll be with you guys in just a sec,” Cosy said as he turned back to Alpha. “Thank you, Alpha. You can get back to resting now. I’ll wake you again if we need you, or when we get back home. Whichever comes first.” Cosy smiled and patted the crystal golem’s leg before it returned to its brothers, laid down on all fours, and powered down, returning to sleep mode. Then Bellacosa raced down the halls to catch up.
He caught up to hearing Pensword speaking. “Well, I was thinking of renaming the vessel to something along the lines of ‘Alicorn’s Wrath,’ or something.” He chuckled. “We can talk about the name when we reach the core if you want.” They all stopped as they had to enter single file through the great metal door. The pillars and conduits still pulsed slowly. It was just like Pensword had left it. “Welcome to the core and heart of the ship,” he said as he nodded to the core. Caring Circlet manifested, looking curiously at the gathered guests, though only Pensword could see this..
“That’s ruby quartz. It’s used to control power flow of highly volatile magical sources,” clover said, moving closer. “But I can’t tell what’s at the heart.”
Hammer Strike’s eyes flashed with blue fire for only a moment, his pupils the size of a flea in the short burst that he looked at the core. “Welp, never doing that again,” he said aloud as he blinked several times, rubbing a hoof over his eyes.
Pensword looked to Hammer Strike, confused while he did his best to ignore Caring Circlet’s sudden bout of giggling. “You did something silly, did you not?”
“I can’t see. I looked at the raw energy from the core. And you say that powers just the ship?”
“Yep, and it is not even utilizing all the power and features,” Pensword replied in a smug tone of voice.
“You’re being so inefficient with it. You could use everything at once and not even touch the power contained in that core.”
“I know,” Pensword muttered, putting a hoof and leg over the top of his muzzle. “Boy do I know.” His tone of voice sounded tired, almost bored. Lunar Fang looked wonderingly at her husband, but remained silent.
“You’re wasting so much potential,” Hammer Strike said as his vision returned to him.
“Tell me about it!” Caring Circlet shouted.
Hammer Strike’s eyes snapped to Pensword’s ears as they twitched in response to noise. “They’re here, aren’t they?”
“Was wondering how long you would take to figure it out,” Pensword muttered. “Caring Circlet is here in this room. She designed that core, and is very proud of it. She looks very smug over the fact she managed to baffle even the great smith.”
“Pensword, I’ve been blind for a good minute or so. I couldn’t catch your ear twitches,” Hammer Strike replied. “I’m primarily upset because, for crying out loud, the Gryphons who made this thing are idiots.”
“They had no idea what they were doing. They killed all the scientists and took the half finished plans,” Circlet said.
“Well, they were working on half finished plans after they wiped out the teams working on these projects.” Pensword paused before turning to face a pocket of air. “Did you not hear that the Crystal Empire went dark? Or were you just so caught up in this that you forgot about the fact that the Crystal Empire was no longer sending messages?”
“We were in a sealed bunker deep underground. By the time we knew anything, we were under attack,” Circlet responded. “And don’t forget, I was already dead at the time,” she noted.
“Of course,” Pensword muttered, deflating a little. “Still, this is--we have a lot of work ahead. Utilizing the full potential of the core for this ship will take time. We could end up gutting large parts of it…” He paused. “I wonder if we could put in a communication system so I, or any of my kind who can see you, do not have to act as interpreter.” He flicked his eyes to Clover. “You have a strange look. What do you have to say…. and wait, just who are you?”
“Oh yeah, I forgot. This is Clover. She was released from stone during the changeling invasion and the poison killing her was cured by it being taken into Trixie, after which I removed said poison from both of them.” Hammer Strike paused. “Actually, I think I still have it.” He reached into his pockets and shuffled a while before pulling out a vile green crystal.
“PUT THAT AWAY!” Pensword ordered. “Why do you carry dangerous stuff? You are as bad as my relatives during the forties and fifties.”
“Because it’s fine in this state, Pensword,” Hammer replied in a flat tone. “It’s an average thaumic crystal at this point: a solid aspect that I could even use as a fuel for something.” Hammer Strike rolled his eyes, placing the crystal back into his coat.
“Oh…” Pensword sighed and his ears folded down. “Still,” he put a hoof to his muzzle. “Clover, let me guess, Clover the Clever?” His eyes turned skyward. “Mother of the Night, please tell me Twilight is past her geeking out phase.”
“She never really geeked out, actually. Doesn’t help that Trixie was dying at the time…” Hammer shrugged. “As said, fine now.”
“Well, happy that Trixie is doing well. Staying here, I presume? Also, are we going to have a magical academy or something? I rather like the idea of teaching the old war magic.”
“Already have the courses started,” Clover replied smugly.
“Good,” Pensword answered before grinning. “Since you are the most advanced mage in this room ... that is alive,” he added as he shot the empty spot a glare. “Alive,” he repeated for emphasis. “Can you take a guess as to what is the core of this Ruby Quartz?” He smirked. “You will be showing me the military training courses as well. I may only be the Commander ceremonially, but I still take my role seriously.”
“Crystallized Dragon fire maybe? Or some kind of purified star sapphire?” Clover asked.
Pensword chuckled and shook his head. “Hammer Strike? How about you? Care to take a guess?” he asked playfully.
“A Philosopher's Stone,” Hammer Strike commented jokingly, rolling his eyes. “I don’t know. I’m pretty sure none of us besides you and the creator know at the moment,” Hammer said.
“How does he know about the philosopher's stone?” Circlet asked, taken aback.
Pensword just stared at Hammer Strike for a couple of seconds as he tried to comprehend. He was joking, and yet he still guessed it. How? How could he have guessed, even intuitively?
After several moments of silence from Pensword, Hammer opened his mouth, shaking his head. “Don’t you dare tell me… No…”
Pensword nodded his head. “Yep. We have an actual real one.”
“Welp, I know why they’re dead now,” Hammer commented. “That’s an ultimate tool to alchemy. That is over the top. That is the base foundation of equivalent exchange.” Hammer Strike shook his head. “And that is the power core? No wonder you can’t make a dent in the power usage!”
“Heavy, is it not?” Pensword replied with a chuckle.
“Just because the Gryphons have no idea what they had doesn’t mean we weren’t planning to use the energy,” Circlet said, annoyed.
Pensword turned back to Circlet. “Well, excuse me, but I have an alien mind in my head as well, and to him and his kind, you just created the ultimate myth: the greatest tool of stories in their land. For me… I know why you made it, and frankly, I do not know what I would have done if my hoof was on the controls of this finished product.” He chuckled. “Maybe if I did, having the sight beyond, you would have been my conscience during the war.” He chuckled. “Now… well, I am afraid to say that Hammer Strike will be looking at ways to ‘make a dent’ in that power reserve.”
“With this kind of power contained in that core... “ Hammer Strike paused. “I’m calling in a favor. I’m getting a golem, and I’m going to talk with Circlet. I know exactly how we’re going to upgrade this ship.”
Pensword sighed. “As long as I am able to do my own things at least half the week.”
“Don’t worry. Like I said, I’m calling in a favor, and knowing me, I know exactly how to find the individual in less than an hour.” A familiar sound filled the room as something began to materialize and dematerialize right in front of the door until, finally, the familiar image of a blue box solidified there. “... Let me rephrase that. Less than a minute,” Hammer Strike amended as the TARDIS doors opened, revealing a familiar brown stallion.
“Wait a minute, this isn’t the Saturine Nebula! Where am…. Hammer Strike?” the stallion said nervously.
“Hello, Doctor, I need to call in that favor.” Hammer Strike grinned.
“That favor?” The doctor sighed. “Oh alright, alright, what is it you want?”
“A golem to be filled by a spirit.”
“... Get inside.” The Doctor sighed as he went back into his time machine.
“See you in a minute or so,” Hammer Strike commented to the group as he walked into the Tardis.
“Or tomorrow,” Pensword spoke with a frown. “Still, Caring, this is normal for us. Welcome to the oddest place in Equestria.”
Lunar Fang face hoofed. “How does he get away with that?” she muttered. “Moon River, that is not something you should giggle and clap your hooves about,” she snapped as she moved to try and remove Moon River from Cosy’s back, only for her to hiss at her own mother. There was a slight spat of hissing before the two before Moon River was picked up by the scruff of the neck, walked over to Pensword, and plopped onto his back. Fortunately, this put Moon River in a more reasonable mood as she placed her forehooves onto her father’s head and chittered happily.
“I love you too, my little Mooney,” Pensword responded, smiling goofily.
“This is weird?” Clover asked pensword. “Has something changed with The Doctor since I traveled with him?”
“Clover, I was speaking to Circlet. And wait… You ... wait… You traveled with The Doctor?” He shook his head as his daughter pouted before nuzzling into the back of his neck.
“Thank you, Moonie,” Pensword said softly.
“Commander, I have spent over a thousand years in the empire. I’ll take any excitement I can,” Circlet told him.
Pensword looked around in a panic. “Does anypony have a piece of wood? I do not want any more surprises. NO MORE!” he shouted, his mind clicking back to the Monkey King incident.
“Uhhhh … Uncle Pensword, are you alright?” Cosy asked uncertainly.
“Cosy… last time someone said that they will take all the excitement they want to take ... the last time I heard those words, the Monkey King fight happened, and before that, invasions, battles, and mayhem. I do not want any more.” He groaned. “I want a vacation.”
Meanwhile, in the Tardis, Hammer Strike stood by The Doctor, who was currently flipping switches and turning knobs. After a moment he turned towards Hammer Strike with an unsure look on his face. “So… Will this repay you for the-?”
“Not even close.”
Outside of New Unity, a rather strange and very tense meeting was taking place. Six Gryphons stared at fourteen Ponies. Both parties were dressed in full armor and each held their weapons at bay. Fox Feather stepped forward aggressively, flapping up into the air to glare down at the six Gryphons. “So, just who the Tartarus are you? Why are you wearing our commander’s cutie mark on your chest?”
“We wear our oath keeper’s symbol to honor him,” Kahn said, standing proudly.
“Oath keeper?”
“We have sworn our oath to Commander Pensword,” another male noted, looking away from the blushing Thestral mare at his side while he held his wing over her protectively.
Moon Biter and Night Prism both looked at each other with concern and anger. Moon Biter spoke up. “So, what oath did you make?” He stepped forward. “There are many oaths that could have been sworn. What did you swear?”
“We gave our blood oath,” Kahn said, stepping forward. The male Gryphon’s head stood defiantly tall over the Thestrals.
The fourteen ponies stood in shock. “What? What?” Clean Whistle shouted.
“We swore our lives to Commander Pensword,” Kahn said slowly.
The ponies turned and looked at each other, completely speechless. “This, but a Gryphon would-” one began, while another spoke over them. “Only Grif did that, and look at what they did-” another voice broke up over the others. “This cannot-”
Fox Feather rose into the air further and bellowed. “SILENCE!” Her voice rang over the field. “Your heard them. They gave a blood oath. They are literally of the House of Pen now. The Gryphons from our time are long since dead. Their culture and ways of war are dormant. I will not let this opportunity go to waste. We are the Commander’s bodyguards. Do you think we would risk not getting the chance to actually learn Gryphon tactics?” She glared at the group as she crossed her forehooves. “So, the only question is how do we proceed? I highly doubt the commander will want two units. He most likely will be merging units.” She turned around. “So, What do you call yourselves? We are the Gryphon Slayers.”
Kahn rose in the air to meet Fox Feather. “We are The Damned,” he said with a dramatic bow.
“A fitting name,” Moon Biter replied from below with a coy smile, exposing one of his fangs. He chuckled as he approached the rest of the Gryphons. “I am Moon Biter, the teacher of the Gryphon Slayers.” He bowed with a wing wave. “I take it you took that name because you are damned in your culture?”
“If it is to be damned to follow a warrior who fought to save our emperor when he had every reason to leave us alone, then we march into hell willingly, mon ami,” Kahn said, smiling.
Fox Feather put a hoof to her muzzle. “As long as you do not try wooing me.” Her voice hardened. “I am married to my career. Is that understood?”
“You refer to Javard and his lady friend. That was a surprise to all of us, but love is love, non?” Kahn asked her. “Still, we will do our best to make ourselves useful.”
“Yes, and I know how to see how you will act. You will have the rest of the day to guard the flags. But if we find you have moved a single one without any good reason, you will be taken before the commander,” Fox Feather threatened as she returned to ground. “Magic Swirl, Clean Whistle, please escort these six to their guard posts. Also, Moon Biter, Night Prism, you are allowed to return to the Dream Clan to follow your concerns.” She paused. “Kahn, you and I shall be meeting with the commander to find out what is to happen to the units.”
“Go, my friends. Stand vigil. Be strong. Make The Demon proud,” Kahn said, taking the time to lock talons with each of his five compatriots. The other Gryphons returned the gesture with a nod before moving to follow the Ponies as indicated.
Fox Feather watched the Gryphons leave as they followed Magic Swirl and Clean Whistle. She waited patiently until Moon Biter and Night Prism had left before she looked at Kahn. “Follow me, please. The commander should be at his makeshift office. Either that, or on the new airship. It is time we discussed how we are going to integrate our ways into a new way.”
“Lead and I shall follow,” Kahn said, gesturing in a gentlemanly fashion with a playful twinkle in his eyes.
Extended Holiday Ch 73: Vacation: All I Never Wanted Act 9
Pensword alighted on one of the recently rebuilt balconies of the New Unity complex. He nuzzled his wife’s cheek and laughed at Fizzpot’s expression. “So, this is my daughter’s first victory?” His eyes twinkled merrily. “We had better plan her victory party.”
“She’s growing up so fast,” Lunar Fang said in a somewhat shaky tone. “I don’t want to lose her early.”
“Lose her early?” Pensword paused in his steps. “What do you mean lose her early?” He turned with a steel in his eyes. “What happened while I was gone? I know one noble tried to betroth her, but there seems to be something more.”
“She’s not even a year old and she took down a Changeling practically by herself.” Lunar fang looked into his face. “She broke its horn. That should have been something she’d be able to do maybe in her fifth year.”
Pensword nodded as Fizzpot took Moon River out of the room, allowing husband and wife to speak openly. “I know, but,” he looked at his body. “I am not really a true, or rather, a real Pony. This is hard for me to accept now, but this is a magically constructed body that feels completely real. I was not born like Moon River, or like you were. I am still human, with a strange magic field surrounding me. What we are seeing is most likely the combination of different magics and time stuff from the TARDIS interacting, like how I was made in the first place. You just have to throw out the book and wing it completely.” He sighed and shook his head. “The only thing really is to have another foal in another year or so. If it develops as fast as she is, then we know it is a combination of our biology.” He frowned as he met her gaze. “Meaning we need to discuss if we should continue having foals.” Pensword frowned. “But that is too far into the future. For now, we should make sure she is happy, finishes teething, and make sure we can keep up with her training. Also, I worry about Cosy. He lost guards, and I am wondering if you would mind if I invited him to join us for dinner tonight. Also… he is planning something. I do not know what, but I can tell he is definitely planning something.”
“Moon River seems to enjoy his company,” Lunar Fang said, smiling. “Let’s encourage good relations.”
“I can agree with that,” Pensword replied. “I want to encourage her to treat all ponies as equals.”
“I would say all creatures,” Lunar Fang said with a playful boop on his nose. “You have some work to do with the Gryphon Slayers. Their mindset is getting dangerously narrow.”
“Well, parts of them. Moon Biter is growing, so is Fox Feather, and some of her clan mates; however, I do agree, and that is why I am going to do what they were fearing. I am merging the two units and making them work together. I expect them to have brawls, fights, and drinking contests, but in the end, they will be a stronger unit.”
“It would be best if you put a Gryphon and a Pony under the same rank to encourage the idea that neither side is under the other,” Lunar Fang advised.
“You mean Fox Feather and Kahn?” He asked with a chuckle. Both of them will be Majors.” He sighed. “I need a larger military force. At the moment, all of them are training, all of them are teaching one another, and frankly, all of them are officers. There are no new recruits left to train anymore.”
“Yes, but you need to have a clear chain of command. They need to know who they should turn to if they can’t turn to you.”
“I shall be working on that tonight. This is going to be intense, but at the moment it will be Gryphon Slayers report any problems to either the one they have a problem with, or to Kahn. If the Damned have any problems with the others, they bring it to those they have a problem with, or to Fox Feather. If it is a problem within their own group, they will bring it to the leader of their respective species. That is how it will start.”
“Good.” Lunar Fang nodded in approval. “As for no new recruits, well, that problem may be resolved sooner than we thought.”
“What do you mean?” Pensword asked suspiciously.
“Princess Luna has called for an exalted council of the House of Lords, Parliament, and the Princesses of Equestria to discuss the movement of re-militarizing Equestria, with you nominated as Commander General of the entire Equestrian military,” Lunar Fang said, smiling.
Pensword blinked a few times in disbelief. “That…” He slowly began to chuckle as a smile pulled at his lips. “The bill is finally moving forward. I am going to enjoy sitting on those meetings watching us become more than a paper tiger.” He shook his head. “No, the phrase is paper gryphon, Matthew.”
“The council won’t be happening till just after the Gala, but still, it’s really going to happen!” she said excitedly.
“Then the Gala will be where recruiting and the creation of factions will happen. We shall build our case and we shall graze the fields to find a herd of like minded nobles in the Solar Court. I think they will find it hard to get a Thestral that would be against a military rise in Equestria.” He chuckled. “For once, the old and new are looking forward to this coming battlefield.” He turned his right ear. “I hear ... why is Omni still in pony form?” Pensword asked with concern looking at his wife.
“He wants to grow more accustomed to it. I think he wants to show Clover the Clever he has more potential than she thinks,” Lunar Fang replied.
Vital Spark looked terribly disheveled as he clopped up the hallway, a scroll hovering in his magic while an incredibly scuffed violin case clung desperately to his back by a practically broken strap. Some bedraggled flowers and straw clung to his messed up mane and a heavy layer of dirt covered most of his body, turning his normally white coat a dusty brown.
Pensword looked horrified. “What? You tell me what happened. I am going to throw them into the brig until I can get a trial set up,” he said, his voice hard as steel. “You are under a military jurisdiction. That means that anyone attacking you will be tried by military policy.”
“Can you arrest all of Ponyville?” Vital asked.
“Yes, I can,” Pensword responded with a mix of humor and seriousness. Which made Vital unsure which way Pensword was going. “You can tell me about this in your human form. Just because I am stuck on four hooves does not mean you have to be.”
“With all due respect, Pensword, staying in this form is why I’m still alive. If I’d been human, I’d never have been able to outrun all those Ponies.” He sighed. “Princess Celestia couldn’t have chosen a worse time to send me the invitation,” he groaned. “Just look at this mess. It’s going to take me a good five minutes at least to get everything repaired again.”
“First, it would take longer for a human to repair it. You can repair it in that amount of time to brand new. Second, you are in New Unity, and in my section of the castle. You will not be mauled by anything other than my daugher. Third, do you really want me to give you an order to return to being human? Just because you outran them does not mean you should stay on all fours. I have forgotten what it is like to stand like a human, to even think in things on a two axis field. I do not want you to become fully immersed as a Unicorn. Keep your fingers,” he finished as he moved to the doors and opened them with a wing. “With that said, on the other hoof, care to join us for a light meal?”
“I would, Pensword, but I really need to get cleaned up. Think we can do it some other time? And don’t worry, I always switch to human when I work out with Rook and the others. I’m keeping myself balanced.” He smiled as he laid a hoof on Pensword’s shoulder. “You don’t need to worry about me so much.”
“I am your friend. How can I not worry about you?” he asked, looking Vital in the eye. “You are family to me. A brother. You, Shawn, Taze, the Gryphon Slayers, and Lunar Fang. All of you are my family, and I worry about my family.”
Vital smiled gently. “Thanks, Pensword. I know the feeling, and the feeling is mutual. How about this? Stop by my room later tonight and we can have a discussion about theology. I want to hear about Thestral traditions and how the ponies worship Faust. It’ll be just like old times.”
Pensword nodded his head. “But only if you are to do it as a human.” He smiled as he looked to Lunar Fang. “Care to join and listen? Learn about Omni’s, and my religion from before?” Pensword frowned. “Am I even still part of that, or am I now under Faust’s wing?”
“I’ll see to our daughter and send the message along to Prince Bellacosa with our invitation,” Lunar Fang said, nuzzling her mate before leaving the hall.
Pensword returned the nuzzle before he looked to Vital Spark. “Well, lead the way. I guess we can have this discussion, at least the start, while we get ready for dinner. You are invited to attend, of course, and Prince Bellacosa will be there as well. I think you might like my nephew.” Vital looked questioningly at him and he chuckled. “He adopted me as his uncle while we were in Gryphonia.” He looked at the Unicorn’s disheveled state. “Anything I can do to help?”
“Not that I can think of. I just need a good bath. I think I’ll take it in this form, though. Otherwise, when I shift back, my clothes will be a mess. Rarity would murder me if she saw them, and she tends to have a sixth sense about her clothing. In that regard, she and Hammer Strike are perfect for each other. Her with her designs, and him with his weapons.”
Pensword was about to speak when he paused. “Wait, come again, perfect for…? Are you saying that…? Okay, what did I miss?”
Vital Spark chuckled. “That, my friend, is a long story, and one best told over the dinner table. I’ll meet you back at your apartment, alright?”
“Very well,” Pensword answered. “See you at dinner. Don’t be late.”
“Would I do that?” Vital Spark asked mischievously before he broke away from his friend and chuckled down the hallway.
“I am a Commander. I always have to give that warning.” He called out to Vital Spark.
“Consider me warned!” Vital called back as he bent around a corner and disappeared.
The Doctor and Hammer Strike stood by the center console awaiting Hammer Strike’s stop. “So, what plans do you got, Doc? You know, for after dropping me off.”
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe take Derpy and the girls to New New Unity, show them the sights. It’s quite the tourist attraction, you know.”
“You see, you say something like that and I expect New Unity to have a problem we can’t solve. Odd part, I can’t even tell if you’re kidding, or if it’s that far in the future that it had to become New New Unity.”
“The latter,” The Doctor said, shrugging. “Grew so much, there had to be daughter cities attached to the main one.”
Hammer Strike gave a small grin. “At least we get that right,” he muttered quietly.
“Oh yeah. You’re really popular in the thirty first century. Everypony loves you for what you did, or will do, I suppose.”
“At least I leave a legacy behind to remember me by. What about the others? Their history stick around as long as mine does?”
“Well, you’ve already seen some spoilers; I suppose a few more couldn’t hurt. Go on then, check out the monitors. She won’t bite, you know,” The Doctor said, grinning.
Hammer Strike’s eyes trailed over the monitors on random specifics. Thankfully hiding some information that he didn’t want to see, while others… “Wait… really?” Hammer Strike said, his eyes focusing on a specific line. “That soon?”
“That soon, whadaya mean ‘that soon?’” The Doctor scoffed as he turned to face the screen. “Hold on a second … that’s not right. That can’t be right,” he said as he pulled out his sonic. “What’s the matter with you, Girl? You know as well as I do he lives past there.” He started running the sonic over the screen and the console.
“She hardly lies, Doctor,” Hammer Strike commented. “But, part of me wishes she was...”
“Nope, nope, I’m telling you, this simply isn’t--” The Doctor was quite suddenly thrown off his hooves and flung against the control panel as sparks flew from the main column in its center. “What?” He stumbled to a monitor as the ship flung itself again. “What?” Then came the third time as the lights flickered and another shower of sparks flew around the pair. Hammer Strike simply stood there, weathering the turbulence calmly. “What?” The Doctor cried yet a third time, his eyes wide as he ran the screwdriver over the console again to get a reading.
“Doctor, this is around my third, perhaps fourth time in the TARDIS. I have no idea what’s going on,” Hammer said calmly.
“Not now!” The Doctor shouted as he dashed around the console. “Make yourself useful and pull that lever,” he ordered, pointing to a strangely wobbly green lever sticking up from the console with a unique wave-like design. “Keep it down. And for Faust’s sake, whatever you do, don’t break it off.”
“No promises,” Hammer Strike commented, following the Doctor’s instructions as he gingerly held the lever down.
“The TARDIS’s shields are malfunctioning. According to the readings, we’ve--” The Doctor let loose a loud exclamation as they were thrown yet again. “entered a time storm. We’re going to have to perform an emergency landing. Hang on!” the Earth Pony yelled as he pointed his glowing blue sonic at the console. It maintained its signal for three long seconds before the console practically exploded with sparks. “And whatever you do, keep that lever stable!”
“Eeyup,” Hammer Strike replied calmly amongst the chaos.
There were several more heavy shakes before all motion stopped dead as the TARDIS seemed to come to a stop. The Doctor breathed a sigh of relief and laughed. “Well, that could have been bad.”
“Doctor, I’m pretty sure you just jinxed it,” Hammer Strike commented as he moved towards the door.
“Nonsense. I’m sure we landed the TARDIS just where we meant … to.” Hammer Strike had opened the doors, revealing hot blinding sun and miles of sand. “... And we’re in Saddle Arabia.” He face hoofed. “Great.”
“I blame you for calling her a liar.” Hammer Strike shrugged. “Welp, this’ll add on to the debt.”
“What?” The Doctor responded in shock.
“Well, we were brought here, and part of me suspects that we were brought here for more than just to spite you, so come on,” Hammer said, gesturing the door. “Let’s see if we have work to do.”
The Doctor sighed. “Well, best be off,” he said. “You may want to find a cloak or something.”
“...Yeah, perhaps,” Hammer Strike muttered. “I’d stand out with my coat, wouldn’t I?”
“Yes, well, we don’t need you leaving an even larger mark on history than necessary, do we?” The Doctor said. “Honestly, listen to me, I’m being cautious. I’m never cautious with Derpy or anyone else!”
“I don’t know what to think on that, Doctor. Now… I’d like to request some directions for where I can find a cloak.”
Pensword sat without his armor on the new roof and walls. It had been little more than rubble and scaffolding when he had left. He could hear the sound of activity below as they worked to finish the interior. He didn’t know what was being added in, but he was facing what was bound to turn into the new military camp one the bill passed. The field of memorial flags had been moved and stakes were mapped out for building the official future memorial. He idly wondered just what they were going to do with the chasm as he stared down into its misty depths. Would they build over it? Incorporate it into the actual city? He continued to wonder before deciding that he would let the civilian builders decide. The bridge was getting busier, and some youngins had spruced the railings up with a few banners and streamers. He sighed as his left ear twitched. “Yes?” he spoke out loud.
A familiar thestral mare stepped into view, though quite a bit younger than Pensword remembered her. She smiled fondly at him as her silvery white mane and tail seemed to reflect the sunlight, even as her transparent form moved closer. “Hello, young one.”
“Gramma!” Pensword shouted. His ears and body perked up the same as when he’d been a foal. “You-” he wilted. “I am sorry I vanished without telling you where I was going.” He looked at her hooves. “I-I am sorry if I brought shame to your name. I am sorry.” He rubbed the beginnings of tears from his eyes with a hoof.
“You never brought me shame, young one,” Shimmering Star said. “Never think that of yourself. No matter the truth, you will always be my grandson.”
“Yes, Gramma,” he muttered, still downcast. “But I did not come to see you after the war. I-I never saw you again alive, never gave you the chance to pass on important items as tradition speaks.”
“You returned to where you belong. You found the mare you love and you’ve blessed me with a great granddaughter. You’ve brought our people back into the light and re-united us! You even brought our kind to nobility. Where is your failure?”
“I never got to say goodbye,” Pensword snapped. “I did all that, and yet I never got to say goodbye to you, to Mom, Dad, Moonburn, or Whirlwind. How is that fair?”
“That was taken from us all without choice, young one. Am I to blame because I was unable to say goodbye to my daughter and grandchildren?”
“No,” Pensword muttered glumly. “It just ... it still hurts. I do not have the night terrors or nightmares, but I still have flashbacks to that night. Why did Faust give me that night? It let me know what happened in detail, but why? I would have gone after them anyway. They attacked and destroyed our home and were marching to war against us.” He looked at Shimmering Star before speaking quickly, “If you cannot tell me, I understand.” Then he smiled. “I … I missed talking to you, Gramma.”
“Do you know how long The First Gryphon War lasted, Pensword?” she asked
“No, nopony does. Not since Discord destroyed so many records during his reign of terror and chaos.” He paused. “Can you tell me?”
“Fifteen years, young one. The death counts were in the hundreds of thousands. The second war, as you know, lasted only eight years, but at an even higher cost. Now tell me, how many years did the third last?”
“Ten months,” Pensword responded before he began to laugh and, to his shock, his grandmother laughed, too. “Helps that a Pony army can feed on the land without prepping food.”
“Yes, but Gryphons held the greater skill and the greater opportunity. They breed at a quarter of the time Ponies do and their populations are larger. Without you, child, Equestria would have only won after Celestia interfered. By then, the population would have been decimated.”
“Does that mean that if I did not get the warning, I might have joined my family in the afterlife?”
“You would have lived, recieved the news by messenger months later, been devastated, but by then the army would be bulking. You’d have been just another member of House Strike’s militia. The Thestrals would have been totally lost to Equestria and the war would have been devastating,” she told him, “but the vision wasn’t of Faust's design, my child.”
He shuddered at the thought. “Gramma, I still...” he furrowed his brow. “I want you to know I love you, and ... I am glad that I get to see you in the night when I am done with my tasks.” He fell silent as he thought. “Then, the vision, it was of the moon?” He asked in a baffled, yet hopeful tone of voice.
“You have her notice, child. Embrace her love and she will guide you.” The formerly old mare smiled then. “She has sent me with a message for you.”
Pensword bowed his head in humble respect. “I am all ears to receive her message.” He finished the gesture by spreading his wings out.
“The times ahead are tough, and you are not yet ready for what is to come. You will meet with the spirit of High Chief Fog and the original chiefs, some of the greatest warriors of our history. They will teach you the skills you will need.”
Pensword looked gravely to his grandmother. “That sounds scary, but I hope to succeed and pass their training down to others. The knowledge lost in the times of peace needs to be restored and taught once more. The time for the blade to hang on the wall is ended. The time has come for Ponies to bear their swords in hoof again. We are at the time of plows and sheers. We need swords and shields.” His expression turned grim. “I shall teach my wife as well.”
“You will do well, young one,” she encouraged. “I know it in my heart.”
“Thank you, Gramma,” Pensword replied. He moved to hug her, but stopped as he remembered the truth. “Sorry, Gramma.”
“We will embrace again in the glade, my grandson.” A phantom tear trickled down Shimmering Star’s eye before fading away. “But my time is gone. Lead our clan well, and show our people their true future. Know that I always have faith in you, Little Bear.” The last line echoed as she faded away.
Pensword moved a hoof to the bear tooth necklace. “Thank you, Gramma. Thank you,” he whispered. He looked up and saw Fox Feather and Kahn flying towards him. He sighed. “Right, I need to take care of that,” he muttered as he spotted a green Pegasus with a brown mane. “You!” he shouted. The Pegasus paused and turned to look at Pensword in confusion. He moved a hoof to point at himself. “Yes, you. Go tell Lunar Fang that I might be late for dinner. I have to perform some reorganization.” He watched the Pegasus salute before darting off to carry his message.
Rainbow Dash landed in the middle of the courtyard looking around nervously. She may be many things, but at the moment, she was fairly nervous, though doing her best to hide it. She looked around the courtyard before finding a Gryphon walking across to get some more supplies to add to the compound. “Excuse me,” Rainbow Dash said as she flew up to the side of the Gryphon. “Can you tell me where I can find Gilda?”
“We all look alike to you or something?” a familiar voice teased from behind her.
Rainbow Dash turned around with a grin. “Gilda!” She answered before frowning and crossing her hooves as she hovered in the air. “You think I’d mix you up with some other Gryphon? I was asking if you were around. I mean,” she started waving a hoof, “it’d be annoying if we keep missing each other by minutes. Drove Mr. Feather Storm nuts, remember that?” She asked with a laugh before leaning in and whispering conspiratorially. “How goes the pranking?”
“Haven’t had the time, Dash, with the construction work and training.” Gilda’s demeanor seemed more serious and sullen than had been normal since they reunited.
Rainbow Dash looked around the courtyard. “Can we discuss this someplace more in private? I mean ... is everything okay?” She landed on the ground. “Because if somepony or some Gryphon is bothering you, then let me at ‘em.”
“It’s no big deal,” Gilda said, though her body language seemed to imply it was indeed a big deal as the Gryphoness turned away.
Rainbow Dash sped forward to look face to face with Gilda. “Don’t give me that. I may have been a poor friend before, but right now, I want to make up for it. We’re sisters. You said so yourself. So come on, tell your sister what’s up. I can build a cloud hole if you want.”
Gilda heaved a heavy sigh. “... Grif and pensword returned from the trip one Gryphon short,” she explained sadly. “He was the one who took me in when I had nothing.” Her eyes began to water, but she stubbornly blinked the tears back. “Kel’leam died in battle in the empire.”
Rainbow Dash’s body sagged. “Gilda.” Her voice cracked. “I-” she ground her teeth. “So who killed him? If he’s still alive, I’m gonna give him a few choice chops and kicks.”
“He’s dead. Grif saw to that.” Gilda turned to face the sun. Kel’leam, he was hard to pick out of a crowd, but he was patient. More patient than I deserved. He found me half dead without food, water, or money for anything, and he took me in. He introduced me to the group. Without him … I’d have died out there.”
Dash landed, her bravado gone. This time she was serious. “What can I do to help?” Those simple words might have been some of the most humble Rainbow Dash had ever uttered.
“I appreciate it, Dash,” Gilda spoke after a moment, “but you can’t bring back the dead. Grif promised there’d be a memorial for him later, but there isn’t much more they can do. They couldn’t…” Tears welled in her eyes as she tried to say the words. “They couldn’t b—” she broke into choked sobs “They couldn’t even bring back his body. I never said thank you.” This time Gilda didn’t stop them as she finally broke down.
Dash did the only thing she could think to do in the situation. She patted her wing on Gilda’s back, trying to comfort her friend. “If you need a place to...” she paused as she tried to organize her thoughts. “Look, if you need to… well, my door’s always open… you know… for anything.” Rainbow half expected a violent reaction, a roar, maybe some sort of insult. She braced herself just in case.
Gilda’s reaction was probably scarier as the Gryphoness embraced her friend, sobbing on her shoulder. “I never even said thank you,” she repeated.
Grif smiled to himself as he stalked quietly through the bushes of New Unity, his prey perfectly visible, his footsteps measured and silent. He moved carefully, not letting his target hear him as he slinked, stopping every time her head turned so as not to alert her. Finally, when he was close enough, he pounced. With a mighty roar he scooped the filly off the ground, his talons carefully moving across her fur, finding all the tickle spots. Moon River giggled and screamed in joy and excitement before she started trying to nom and bite like a puppy on Grif’s talons.
“Hey, River, did you miss me?” Grif asked, smiling as he let her chew on a talon.
She nodded her head. “Yes,” she lisped before letting go. She moved her hooves out. “Thiiiiiiis much!” She giggled and returned to playfully nipping at Grif’s talons.
“I got you a present.” Reaching behind his back, he produced a familiar turquoise yellow-striped fruit. He offered it to her. “Here. It’s really tasty.”
She tilted her head, considering the fruit with an inquisitive gaze. As she inhaled the scent, her eyes widened with glee and want. Her hard prey forgotten, she immediately reached out, placed her hooves around the fruit, and began to decimate it, sending juice dribbling down her muzzle as she eagerly ate.
“I heard that someone took down a Changeling all by herself,” Grif said as she ate. “You’re going to be taking down tough opponents in no time.”
She paused in her eating to look at her godfather. She looked at him for a few moments in confusion. Fizzpot walked into the clearing at this moment and she giggled. “Fizzy!” she called out with glee.
Grif pulled a small wrapped bundle from his bag and placed it in front of Moon River. “I figured you might as well get an early start.”
She looked at the wrapped item, placing the fruit aside as she tried to open it. She fell into excited foal babble as she worked at it, slowly tearing away the paper. Eventually, she became more enthralled with the sound of the paper tearing than she was at what could be inside. Finally, all the paper tore away to reveal a small simple wooden crossbow with several miniaturized bolts topped with suction cups.
Moon River paused as she looked at the item, tilting her head before something lit up in her eyes and she squealed in excitement. “Daddy!” She touched the crossbow with her hooves as she repeated the word over and over. “Daddy! Daddy!” She clopped her hooves down hard on the floor. “DADDY!”
“Now, you see,” Grif told her slowly as he took her hoof and gently pulled the string back with it until the mechanism locked into place. “You pull the string back until it sticks in this spot.” He picked up a small bolt and slid it into place for her. “You put the bolt here.” Then he gently guided her hoof to the trigger. “And pull this.”
Moon River giggled as she remembered seeing her mommy using a bigger one. She pulled the trigger as the suction cup dart shot out and hit Fizzpot on the nose. The changeling crossed his eyes, then looked upon Moon River with a blank expression. “This...” He took a steadying breath in and out, only to find another bolt sticking to a spot between the eyes. “I have become a living pincushion for the young duchess.”
“Better than your head being a new kickball,” Grif told him with a dangerous undertone.
Moon River hissed angrily. “My Fizzpot. MINE!”
Grif picked her up gently. “I’m sorry, River, can you forgive me?” he asked her.
She cooed and nuzzled Grif under his chin. “Okay. Be nice,” she scolded.
“Of course, River.” Grif smiled before giving her a light hug. “I need to go now. You be good, alright?”
A bolt suddenly trembled under his upper beak. “Okay,” she answered as she giggled.
Grif pulled the bolt off and handed it to her, gently laying the foal on the ground before taking to the air with a smirk on his beak. “Pensword is so going to kill me.” Then he laughed.
Pensword sat at his desk looking at the two. “So, are you two ready for this meeting? Because right now, logistically speaking, it is going to be easier to merge you into one unit.” He put his hooves together as he leaned on his desk. “It will also help get the Gryphon Slayers integrated into society.” He turned his head to look at each of them. “Any concerns or comments you wish to tell me before we start?”
“With all due respect, Commander, I noticed I and my compatriots, well, we’re not very well accepted amongst your pony soldiers,” Kahn said. “I don’t suppose there is any way we could ... how do you say it? Flatten the ice between our two groups?”
“Break the ice, Kahn. It’s called breaking the ice,” Pensword corrected.
Fox Feather immediately broke in. “The reason you are having trouble is because we all lost loved ones in the Third Gryphon War, which is why I agree with Pensword. We need to integrate. When the Gryphon slayers were around, we had to face warriors who would eat their conquests. I know the Gryphons of today are different. The Bladefeathers have shown that. What you need to do, Kahn, is prove to them that the Gryphons from the main empire have changed from those in the past.”
“Oui, oui,” Kahn nodded. “But we are not from the capital originally. The lower East Kingdom did not support the war,” he said. “Still, I can understand how old wounds may have festered. Tell me, mademoiselle, you have been most reasonable. What are your companions fond of?”
Pensword spoke up. “Kahn, these wounds are not old. To them, to me, to all of us in the Gryphon Slayers, the Third Gryphon War happened barely a year ago.” He moved a hoof to point to Fox Feather and himself. “We are having to deal with the fact that Gryphons are friends now, with jobs like stone masonry or catering. It will take time.”
Fox Feather, however, got that famous smile of hers that looked more Vulpine than Pony. “Well, we all are fond of archery, weapon practice, hikes, wrestling, and generally making fun of the Royal Guards. That last part you might want to hold off on till you are accepted as one of us. Beyond that, you need to ask what we like on an individual basis.”
“Might I offer, then, a… what was the term that visiting Pony dignitary used in his tale? Ah, yes, an Iron Pony competition!” Kahn smiled dramatically.
“I do like the sound of that,” Fox Feather began. “However, it would be unfair if we were to hold it just between ourselves. We should open it to the entire base.” She frowned. “Town?”
“Base is fine with me. This is still a military operation,” Pensword clarified. He smiled wider. “Maybe you would like to join in the Equestrian Games? Try out. I cannot guarantee a spot, but you would be competing for New Unity should you succeed.”
“Ah, yes, the games.” Kahn smiled “I have heard tell around the base that clan leader Grif has been selected for your fencing competitor, non? With such high standards, it would only be fitting for New Unity to separate the chaff from the wheat before selecting its athletes.”
Pensword grinned in a manner that unnerved the two subordinates. “And the fun part is you do not know which is which.” He laughed. “Unlike some of the towns, who do it by popularity contest, we shall bring the best skills we have. Besides, this is great training, no matter if we win or lose.”
“Then, Commander, my lady Fox Feather.” Kahn bowed dramatically to each. “I look forward to meeting your best on the field of honor. For I shall bring mine.”
“I look forward to that as well,” Pensword answered. “Now that we have plans for starting the integration, how shall we proceed? Because at the moment we have two units pledged to my protection: The Gryphon Slayers, and as you call yourselves, The Demon Damned. I believe the worst can be easily overcome, but there is the small matter of the new unit’s name.”
“The Demons Slayers?” Kahn offered half heartedly.
Fox Feather paused as she thought. She almost retorted, then stopped again. “Actually…” She fell silent as she pondered. “We both faced demons and slayed them.” She began to grin.
Pensword nodded his head. “This was faster than I had thought. Very well. Your new unit name will be The Demon Slayers. I shall let you two work on a unit crest and emblems; however, I have one thing I wish to keep: the two Gryphon wings.”
“I think it would be best to have a separate barracks for the first few weeks, Commander, if only to ease the transition,” Kahn suggested. “Also, as you may have noticed with my people, we roost easier in higher places just as ponies are at ease in more open spaces.”
Pensword snorted. “That is a misconception. Pegasi like high places as well. Earth Ponies like the wide open space, and Unicorns usually care to have the top bunks surrounded by books and the like. As for myself, I am partially Pegasus and Thestral. I love more dark places, but I love the open sky as well.”
“Forgive my mispeaking, then, Commander. I shall venture to further educate myself and the others in the truths about ponykind,” Kahn said, lowering his beak.
“If only you are willing to share that with the ponies if you overhear a misconception. Still, I shall see what I can do to arrange a barracks that is a little higher up to allow flight in and out. Mind you, the barracks will be temporary. We are shifting around as we build.”
“Of course.” Kahn nodded before turning to Fox Feather. “I hope for this to be the beginning of a beautiful alliance between our two groups. Let our enemies learn what true fear is.”
Pensword chuckled softly at the words. “Very true. And may we become a force that truly does protect all the nation without the need of falling back upon Celestia’s sun.”
Conor smiled as he knocked on the door to Pensword’s suite. His simple pair of khaki pants and plain T-shirt hugged closely to his new musculature and he couldn’t help but chuckle. “If mom and dad could see me now.”
“They would think you or they were half crazy,” Pensword responded as he opened the door, looking strange in his dart decorated helmet. “You might want to wear a pot. Something gave Moon River a toy crossbow, and she is going to town with it.” He chuckled good naturedly. “I will need to find whoever gave her one so I can play with her.”
“How is the little tyke? She still up for a little ride?” Conor asked as he stepped through the door. In answer, he saw a movement from a dark corner near the ceiling. A moment later, a suction cup bolt hit him in the ear. A familiar voice cried out in excitement, giggling like mad.
“Good job, Moon River. That was a great shot,” Pensword said, smiling and chuckling. “If my Earth mom could see us now, she would be beside herself that I am letting Moon River have a weapon.” He laughed a little harder as he let Conor into the family room. “We will have dinner in thirty minutes. We can enjoy the actions of my little warrior in the meantime.”
“Come here, ya little rascal,” Conor said, laughing as he rushed Moon River and picked her up, holding the foal high above his head as he started to run around the room with her. To his shock, he felt his feet leave the ground a few times as Moon River beat her wings and squealed at the first sensations of limited flight. He also found that she was guiding him, which ended suddenly with the human lying sprawled out on his stomach over the back end of one of three couches in the living room, while the little filly stood on a new ledge that had been built on the wall. Lunar Fang’s expression was one of disapproval and amusement at Conor’s misfortune.
Pensword couldn’t help but laugh. “Careful. Unlike human foals, my foals can fly.” He chuckled as he looked around the place. “I need to tell you that we are looking into building an actual manor home, making this a retreat suite.” He looked around the room. “We are growing up and into our own lives.” He nodded to Conor in approval. “Good. You are in your human form. How does it feel?”
“The same as ever.” Conor chuckled. “Makes the rest of the rooms a little smaller than I’m used to sometimes, though.”
“You haven’t hit your head on anything, I hope?” Lunar Fang asked.
“I’ve been doing my best to be careful. Celestia designed most of these rooms to be able to fit Minotaurs, too, so I haven’t had to really hunch down all that much. Guess it’s a good thing she got that non-aggression treaty signed before this place was abandoned.”
.
“Which makes awesome flying space as well, and when we expand outwards we can build main public buildings to house humans. Or at least the size of humans and Minotaurs,” Pensword replied with a chirp. “So,” he opened his wings and landed next to his daughter. “Do you want to be an Uncle?”
“I thought I already was,” Conor countered. “You know I already love you like a brother, Vulpix.”
“Yes, but this brings with it some official ceremonies in Thestral circles, which means that heaven forbid that something happens to us, you can have a louder say in how Moon River is raised. That also means you will be taught a few things from the Dream Clan, but I warn you, Grif has the loudest say as godfather, and then the head of the Dream Clan.” He frowned. “I fear that I am going to be cut loose to create my own clan… I wonder what my gramma would think about that.”
“Pensword, let’s face it, if that were to happen, you’d rise to the challenge, and if it doesn’t, then there’s no need to worry about it.”
“I worry about her descendants,” Pensword answered as he flew up to the perch and kissed Moon River on the head. “My little moon streaked filly.” He smiled into her mane. “I worry about her future, how the leader of the clan would handle it after I am gone. I am a father. It is natural for me to worry about the future, and about the legacy that I will leave to my foals and grandfoals.” He looked up, his ears perked, and so did Lunar Fang’s. A moment later the timer dinged.
Moon River cheered as she fired off her toy crossbow, which hit Fizzpot on the side as he exited the kitchen. “Dinner is served, milord, milady, and… family friend?” Pensword nodded approvingly and Fizzpot continued, “Please, follow me to the dining room,” he said in a somewhat disbelieving tone of voice.
Pensword flew down to Conor’s ear level. “Usually it is the butler that announces dinner. He is still in shock that he is a bulter, and not in a dungeon somewhere.” He chuckled as he flew into the dining room, landing at the chair at the head of the table. Lunar Fang and Moon River took the chairs on his right while Conor was led to the chair at Pensword’s left. They were seated and Fizzpot walked to the kitchen door. “Tonight we will start with a nice salad from the gardens of New Unity with a glaze of honey and chunks of apples. Also, we have a group of Gryphons at the window who look like they wish to enter. Shall I let them in?”
Pensword turned and smiled at Grif and his two wives. “Come on in, we were about to start dinner. And yes, I planned for a few interruptions just in case.”
“Thank you, Pensword,” Grif said as he they entered with a reasonably sized tray balanced carefully in his claws. “I hunted a turkey earlier today and got the chefs to cook it up. I hope you don’t mind.”
They heard a knock at the door. “Oh yes,” Fizzpot muttered with a small look of worry. “That would be our royal guest. And yes, sir, I did make sure we had extra food for the growing stallion.”
Pensword looked around the table and said something that surprised Fizzpot. “It’s just like Thanksgiving!” He did a hoof pump as Lunar Fang cracked up, laughing when she saw Matthew’s reaction. It was good to see him coming out again.
Soon the food had been set up, the turkey added to the meal, and everyone was situated at the table. It was rather cute seeing Moon River insisting that Cosy sit next to her mommy as she sat in her carrying sack around Lunar Fang’s barrel. Pensword did not know why she was acting like that, but maybe it was because she could still smell battle on Cosy’s form.
Pensword looked to Grif, Shrial, and Avalon sitting at the other end of the table at the guest of honor position, with Conor situated in the middle, there were still ten empty seats, with room for more if they wanted to cram them in.
“So, Conor, you’re looking quite fit,” Grif noted as they ate. “The training is starting to make some headway, huh?”
“Rook says I’m almost ready to start training wearing armor. I’m actually surprised I’m progressing that quickly. But then again … it could be he’s just still mad about how I got back at him.”
“Nah, he wouldn’t take that kinda risk. Besides, it’s something about the magic of Equestria and human biology. It makes us healthier, not the amazing ‘I never get sick or injured’ healthy, but our growth is faster.”
“I think I recall that,” Pensword replied sounding almost surprised. “Still, it is good to see you all here.” He grinned as he looked at Conor. “So… I heard that Hammer Strike and Rarity are a little closer?”
Lunar Fang sighed, covering her muzzle with a wing. “What my mate is trying to get at is he wants details seeing as he was off fighting a war during the time.”
“It’s about time, if you ask me.” Grif smiled at Shrial. “Those two danced around it longer than we did, or these two.”
“Well, where do you guys want me to start?” Conor asked.
“In the words of a great March Hare,” Grif smiled, “‘start at the beginning!’ And to quote his friend, the hatter, ‘when you reach the end, stop.’”
“Agreed,” Pensword responded as Cosy yelped in shock. “Also… please be warned, we have an armed huntress at the table.” He fought not to smile, though it tugged at the corners of his face.
“Well, I don’t know too much about what all happened. I just know Hammer Strike went out with Rarity to the spa in Ponyville.” This was punctuated by a double spit take as both Grif and Pensword had been taking a drink at the time. Conor couldn’t help but laugh. “When he came back, Hammer was in a much better mood. I’m guessing that might’ve been where things finally took off, though I’m no expert, and you guys know I don’t do the whole gossiping thing.”
“Really? That’s all it took? Details, man!” Grif urged.
“Hey, I only know what I know. I was a bit busy with certain responsibilities and helping Vital Spark find something for building his focus. By the way, he’s really excited about it. You should see about visiting him some time when he’s practicing with it. But as I was saying, a while later we had that massive siege from the Changelings, where we kicked some serious butt and Clover the Clever was brought back from the dead. Well, not exactly the dead, but she was on death’s doorstep. Trixie sacrificed herself to save Clover so she could help end the siege once and for all. Then, afterwards, Shawn brought her back after beating Death up. I was really impressed. You guys really taught her something about humility and self sacrifice last time, didn’t you?”
Grif and Pensword got very quiet, staring down at their respective plates.
“I nearly strangled her after she came back for scaring me the way she did. Anyways, after the siege, we worked on making repairs and that’s when trouble from Canterlot arrived. The … ‘lovely’ Fel Jade came to ‘give some assistance.’ I think Pensword has already been apprised of her main motives. Apparently, Camo went back to Ponyville for some designs and measurements for a new suit and let slip about Fel Jade’s aims. Rarity came and kissed Hammer Strike clear on the lips. It was one heck of a kiss too. I swear, steam was coming out of his ears.” Conor couldn’t help but chuckle. “That’s when they really went public.”
“That's hilarious.” Grif laughed.
“Wow, that,” Pensword muttered in shock. “I better get my dress armor polished and ready. I wonder who would marry the two, Celestia or Luna?” Pensword began to laugh.
“That’s not even the best part. Rarity scared Fel Jade off. She completely disgraced her, and the best part was she was playful about it the whole time. You would’ve been proud to see it, Grif. The fencing match was amazing!”
“She’s a good student.” Grif nodded. “She has a great mind for the sword, but don’t tell her I said that.”
“Your secret is safe with me,” Conor said, smirking. “By the way, I don’t think we’ve formally met yet, Avalon. My name is Conor. I have to say, Vital’s description of you doesn’t do you justice.”
Avalon blushed. “Thank you.”
“She knows, Conor.” Grif laughed. “I told her everything before we were married.”
“And you couldn’t tell me this earlier, why?”
“You didn’t pass the charisma check?” Grif joked.
Conor cocked an eyebrow, then took another bite of turkey with a chunk of mashed potatoes and gravy. ”Much better. No offense to equines, but I really enjoy eating meat. Not to mention the whole apple allergy issue.”
“I enjoy meat.” Pensword responded with a laugh. “Too bad you got a horn on your head, and not leather wings.” He shook his head. “Also, you did not want secrets between husband and wife?”
Lunar Fang raised a wing in confusion before settling the wing. “Apple allergy? But I saw you eat apples as a Unicorn.”
“The allergy doesn’t travel over when I’m in that form. But the last time I ate an apple as a human, my lip swelled to three times its size. I was lucky it wasn’t my throat.”
Lunar Fang made a face. “Ouch, well, happy to hear you don’t have an allergy as a Pony. Though I wonder if a Unicorn can eat fish,” she pondered to herself.
Grif seemed to be counting down something. By the time he reached one there was a knock at the door. “Excuse me a second,” he said, getting to his feet and heading to said door. He returned a moment later with a small cask. “Pensword, do you have some extra glasses?”
Pensword turned his head and looked at the cask, his eyes suddenly wide. “Is that...?” he whispered, his mouth suddenly watering.
“I figured since everybody's here, we could lift a glass. To Kel’leam, you know?” Grif said, his tone shifting between cheerful and sad.
Pensword nodded solemnly as his emotions dampened at the thought. He waited for each person at the table to be given a glass, then signalled Grif to lead them in the toast.
“I stand before you all here in our evening of joy with a heavy heart,” Grif started. “Kel’leam is dead, and the stars will shine a little dimmer for his passing. I didn’t have the opportunity to know him as long or as well as some of my clan, but I fought beside him, and we of the battlefield know that you can get to know someone well when you fight beside them.” He looked around the table, getting nods from Shrial, Lunar Fang, and Pensword. “He was my brother, and he died saving my life. He flies with his ancestors tonight, and I know his family flies beside him proudly. To Kel’leam The Wall!” he said, holding his glass high.
Pensword and Lunar Fang stood on their hind legs, raising their glasses high. “To Kel’leam The Wall!” The shout seemed to shake the walls as the others roared the name with respect and honor.
“To Kel’leam,” Conor said, albeit more solemnly and calm as he, too, raised his glass. “Wherever you are, I pray for your happiness.”
Cosy nodded, his jaw set as he raised his own glass. He had lost so many guards already to a first coup. And now another had sacrificed himself to protect the land and ruler he loved. “He won’t be forgotten.”
“Never,” Shrial said. Nodding to each other, as one they downed the purple liquid from their glasses.
Hammer Strike rolled his shoulders as he adjusted the cloak one more time. “So, Doc, shall we head off?”
“I wonder what we could possibly be doing in Saddle Arabia,” The Doctor said as they left the TARDIS.
“I have no clue, Doc.” Hammer shrugged, closing the doors on the blue box.
“Well, is there a village or something nearby? Can you see anything?” The Doctor asked.
“West-bound from our current location, possibly a mile away.”
The Doctor looked to the indicated direction, and sure enough, buildings could be seen relatively close by. “... Oh.”
“Did you happen to read the exact point in time we are?” Hammer Strike questioned as he started walking in the direction of the village.
“Hey, I’m the one who leads!” The doctor said as he trotted after Hammer Strike. “Some time before the Third Gryphon war hits Equestria. About three hundred years off, I believe.”
“Very interesting choice.” Hammer hummed to himself. The duo continued towards the village in silence as they thought to themselves about what could be going on. After some time they found themselves on the outer district of the town, specifically, a very empty part of town.
“I’ll give it less than a minute before something bad happens.”
“What makes you say that?” The Doctor asked.
“We’re travelling in a different time than ours, brought here by the TARDIS, and three individuals have been tailing us since we entered.”
“Ah. Perhaps they’re the neighborhood greeters?” The Doctor suggested weakly.
“The daggers say otherwise.”
As the duo rounded a corner, they were confronted by a fourth figure who seemed to be cleaning his knife. “Where do you two think you’re going?”
“Around,” Hammer Strike replied flatly as the other three came up behind them.
“Yeah? Well being around can be expensive,” one large black Horse stallion growled.
Hammer Strike stood there with his flat expression. “How about we just fight already so the two of us can get on our way?” He said, rolling his eyes.
“You are going to regret saying that,” the third, a steel grey stallion retorted. “You are not even carrying a blade.”
“Don’t need one.”
A rather short fight later, having only involved four punches, Hammer Strike stood amongst the group dusting off his cloak. “Come on, Doctor, let’s keep going.”
“That was ... fast,” The Doctor noted as they walked away.
“They had flimsy iron daggers, no armor, and thought they were smart enough to get away with this, I’m surprised it was me that took them down. I figure any of the locals could do it easily.”
“Most locals they prey on don’t have the money for weapons,” The Doctor said. “And those horses were quite large.”
“Doctor, you’ve seen worse. I’ve seen worse. I’m pretty sure even you thought less of them.”
“Well, yes, but I’m a timelord, and you, my friend, are as close to a god as a mortal can get. These are everyday horses without super powers or great resource. This is their life, and they make of it what they can,” The Doctor said.
“Doc, question. What do you think we’re here for in the first place?”
“I’m not sure, but if you're here, then it can’t be too strange. I mean, you didn’t visit Saddle Arabia a lot.”
“If we were brought here, I’m pretty sure the problem is more than just normal.”
“I suppose the best plan would be going to the palace and seeing if anything is strange there,” The Doctor said dubiously.
The dinner was nice and Pensword was taking an evening stroll through the gardens. He was close to Area Fifty One, as his human mind called it, but it just didn’t quite seem to fit for him. He paused as his ears picked up on approaching hoofsteps from the left. “Yes?” He asked.
“Greetings, founder.” A Changeling approached him carefully. This drone was larger than the ones Pensword was used too. Muscle rippled under the plates of thin yet sturdy chitin as the Changeling lowered its knife-like horn in respect. As the drone’s head lowered, Pensword realised his wings were covered by a thick beetle-like shell to protect them when not in use.
Pensword returned the nod. “Greetings. May I ask what you need me for? Or is it Queen Me-Me that asks for me?” he finished.
“Queen Me-Me has requested your presence for the royal inspection of the first generation soldier drones. According to her orders, I am to be named by you and to serve as your aid.”
“Wait, named? And… my aid?” Pensword paused and put a hoof to his nose. “Very well, but you will need to take a Thestral guise when we are outside of New Unity. I have a problem coming up with nobles of the Solar Court, and I would like to try and keep things a little more stable.” He shook his head. “I shall wait till we are at the first royal inspection.”
The Changeling’s body was devoured in a surprisingly light blue flame, revealing a sturdily built thestral stallion of dark blue almost black. His mane and tail were only a tint lighter. “Will this do, founder?”
“Yes,” Pensword nodded with a small grin. “That will do.” He chuckled as moved a wing, “Shall you guide me to the presentation? I am afraid that your hive still confuses me down there.”
The soldier nodded as he and pensword headed off. Over the next half hour they navigated first to the hive entrance and then inside the labyrinth of the hive. Finally, they entered the large chamber Me-Me had constructed for training soldiers.
“Hello, Pensword!” Me-Me laughed as she approached him. The Queen now stood as tall as Princess Luna and towered over him. Yet, unlike Chrysalis’s imposing visage, Pensword felt no threat from the Changeling Queen.
“Me-Me,” Pensword responded, nodding his head, the most any ruler that was not High Chieftess Luna would get. “Did I hear right that you are creating soldiers for the hive?”
“To contribute to Unity,” she clarified. “You defend us. We should do our part to add to that effort.”
Pensword nodded grimly. “Faust knows we need the troops,” he muttered. “I look forward to the ceremony and review. Also, I am... conflicted over your assignment of an Aide-de-Camp. I thank you for your consideration; I just hope you understand that I might work him to the ichor.”
“I’ve modified him to be especially sturdy with little need for rest. He can metabolize greater amounts of energy from food and water than most can, and he is the most I ever plan to alter my children in one go.”
“In one go?” Pensword asked, before thinking of something else. “Also, what are your thoughts on Fizzpot? Do you want him to be a part of your hive?”
“I am divided. He is a Changeling and needs the order of the hive mind to keep himself sane, but I do not think taking him into my hive would be beneficial to him or to Moon River.”
“Yes, but is there a way to put him in the hive, but not have him be taking orders from you? Just so he, well, from what I read on notes, Changelings need the hive or link or whatever you call it. They need it like we Thestrals need the assurance of the moon. Is there a middle ground? I do not want to think what Moon River will do if she loses him.” He closed his eyes. “Besides, you can get a lot more intelligence by having him remain our butler.”
“I will… see what I can do. I’m honestly still learning everything,” Me-Me admitted.
“Then we shall make it a priority to raid Chrysalis’ camp, steal one of her teachers, and integrate that teacher into your hive,” Pensword answered with a smirk. “Still, you think you have left your guards waiting long enough?” he asked, moving his hoof around as he spoke.
“Yes,” she said as she concentrated on the hive mind. A moment later two dozen changelings in similar shape to the one that had escorted Pensword entered the room, forming into an even, disciplined line. If Pensword noticed any difference amongst them it was that their chitin armor was heavier and jagged with vicious looking spines along the sides. Each proceeded to give a unified salute to the founder. Pensword returned the salute, his face remaining flat and emotionless. The Changelings waited eagerly for Pensword to professionally judge their military potential.
Pensword stepped forward and began to march down the line. Stopping in front of each Changeling, he looked them in the eye for a few silent seconds before moving on. While Matthew was utterly confused and felt very unqualified, Pensword drew upon the training he had received during the war. Eventually, he reached the end of the line, where he looked over the group as a whole before stepping back to stand beside Me-Me. “Military stance and bearing is good, but at the moment, all they are are pretty soldiers. I do not yet know how they fight, how they train, or even their level of competence; however, from what I can see, they look the part of a military.”
“Well they have only just fully matured,” Me-Me explained. “This is their first day to test their instinctual skills.”
Pensword looked at them. “So, I am going to be present for that?”
“I was hoping you would, but I didn’t want to assume,” she said.
Pensword smiled and laughed softly. “I would love to be present for that.”
“Very well. Come with me and we will give them a moment to prepare,” Me-Me said, leading him out.
High Chieftess Princess Luna sat in one of the many studies of her new castle. Around her books upon books lay stacked in piles, ordered in rows with little pieces of paper marking key places she wanted to return to later. Another part of the study held scrolls upon scrolls of treaties and agreements from the other nations throughout Equis. She looked up at the crystal studded mirror Cadence had given her. It seemed the Crystal Empire had found a cache of old communication mirrors and Cadence wanted to keep in touch. Currently, Luna was speaking with both Shining Armor and Celestia. The mirrors was about half her height and mounted on the wall next to the bookcase, looking out at her workspace.
“Now Shining,” Celestia began, continuing the conversation. She paused as a scroll appeared in front of her. “Ah,” she said after she read it. “Please tell my niece that her little brother has returned officially and will be having a layover in New Unity. It seems he has made a great impression with the Emperor. I believe this could lead to much better relations with the Empire, at least from the Crystal Empire’s perspective. Once he’s finished returning order to Gryphonia, I believe Daedalus will be supportive of our actions. We may finally have a chance for real peace.”
“That is good,” Shining Armor responded, impressed. “Still, do I have your permission as a leader of the Empire to return to Equestria to be trained at New Unity?”
“We do not see why thou wouldst ask us to allow you to return to the land of thy birth. While thou dost rule beside our niece, we do still see thee as one of our few competent guards,” Luna said, giving Celestia a meaningful glance.
“Oh no,” Shining Armor replied. “I won’t stand by and let this argument continue. This is why we’re working on the bill, isn’t it? To make sure you two don’t keep fighting over something already done?” He sighed. “No wonder Cadance opted out of this meeting,” he muttered under his breath. “Sorry, your-” he stopped as he realized he was technically equal in rank. “Look, won’t you at least use this bill to let Twilie get a set of guards? With everything that’s happening—” he broke off as Celestia fixed him with a stern motherly look.
“I am sorry, but Twilight will need to choose on her own and for herself. For the moment, she has wished to remain as she is: a Librarian in Ponyville.” She smiled mischievously. “However, that does not mean she is not looked after. I have some undercover agents already in place to keep her safe.”
Luna nodded, “That is true; however, we have to discuss the allotment of resources. Thou knowest, sister, that I have started my own capital. That means that legally you can confiscate half of my funds for breaking away from the main capital, and-”
“No,” Celestia said, shaking her head. “I will not take any more of what is rightfully yours. I will not—”
This time Luna broke in. “No, if you will not take what the law demands, then I shall give up my half that I can legally keep to fund this.”
Shining Armor groaned. “Look, don’t we have funds set aside for future growth projects? Why don’t we just use those?”
“No,” Celestia said. “The parliament of year six hundred made certain that those funds could not be used for present or future military growth to curb some of the ambitions of the lower noble houses from trying to usurp or threaten the higher noble houses and their allies. Those rules cannot be broken.” She paused. “However, there are monetary assets that could be used. I do believe that the Commander’s pension for Pensword and Lunar Fang has been collecting dust.” She shook her head. “No, the rules of the five hundred seventy fifth Parliament merged those accounts into the main one, which technically now belongs to Hammer Strike.” She sighed. “I’ll see what I can do, but we might have to do that to seed the accounts.”
“That is good, as by my calculations,” Luna began, “the amount that needs to be confiscated is valued at about two point five billion bits. Still, that could be a start. But for us to really modernize, construct new bases, deepen and expand naval ports and harbors. It will cost almost five trillion bits when all is said and done, and a projected time frame of ten years.” She sighed. “This is without having pet projects and other cider barrels bucked in by the nobility.” She laughed. “I’m surprised that term actually lasted.”
Celestia nodded before turning her head. “We can talk about this later, sister, but I’m afraid that I’m needed in the throne room. It seems the rumors have reached my court and I have to deal with a mouthpiece for NOOB. Why Baron Blueblood won’t speak himself, I don’t know.” She smiled before her mirror faded to a white sheen. Shining Armor nodded and the other half of the mirror dropped to a color reminiscent of the Crystal Heart. Luna reached a hoof out and ended her part of the call as her mirror turned the color of her coat. She sighed. “I cannot wait till we can make the new desktop models.”
A distinctive sound filled the room as the image of The Doctor’s TARDIS faded in and out before fully landing in an empty spot inside the chamber. The doors opened, revealing Hammer Strike covered in a brown cloak, the cloak and his mane was coated faintly with dust as he looked around the room confused before setting his eyes on Luna. “Ah, hey. Quick question, what is today’s date?”
“April nineteenth, year three of my return,” Luna returned. “Is everything okay?”
Hammer Strike thought to himself for a moment. “Yes, everything is alright. Just needed to make sure the Doctor got the date right. I’ll send a letter when I-”
A scroll flashed into existence in front of Luna, bearing Hammer Strike’s seal.
“-Get back,” he finished. “Well, I need to get going again.” Hammer rolled his eyes as he turned back towards the Tardis. “Alright, Doc, you got the right date, but you need to work on where you land!” he called out, entering the TARDIS once more.
Princess Luna watched the blue box disappear. She smiled as she opened the letter. She frowned at first, then a goofy grin overtook her face as she took out a scroll and began to write a response to Hammer Strike’s letter.
A lone cloaked figure slipped through the castle halls, a light blue glow beneath the hood being the only indication of species. A wooden staff lay easily on its back while a light blue aura surrounded its hooves, muting the steps. Eventually the figure reached the main castle doors and eased them open, creeping out onto the main compound. The moon shone brightly, glinting off the large pearl that had been mounted at the top of the staff. A spiraling cage of sorts enclosed it as silvery steel wove like veins through the body in intricate spirals. As the moon’s light cast itself upon the casing, three words shone brightly in the metal and wood, carefully chosen to represent its creator’s past, albeit in a language no Equestrian could ever hope to read. Charity never faileth.
As the figure reached the gates of the compound, it pulled off the hood, revealing a blonde mane and white fur with his horn. Vital Spark smiled. “Well, I guess that perception spell really does work after all.”
“Not exactly,” Camo said from right next to him.
Vital leaped a good foot into the air and hovered there for three seconds before landing back down on the floor. “Camo!” he hissed. “You scared me.”
“Not only are you terrible at quietly attempting your escape, but you failed to spot me standing here this whole time.”
“But Camo, you’re Camo. Of course I wouldn’t see you. That’s your special talent, for crying out loud.”
“I’m wearing a not so subtle suit.”
“You could wear a bright white mask with someone else’s face on it and I’d think you were that person.”
“...I may have to test that out,” Camo said contemplatively.
Vital sighed. “Was I really that obvious?”
“My friend, an Ursa Major has more tact than you,” Camo admitted honestly.
Vital nearly face faulted. “So, I’m guessing you’re supposed to be my guard for the night?”
“You were aware about the guard?” Cameo asked him.
Vital chuckled. “I’m not as tactless as you might’ve thought.”
“So it would seem,” he said.
“So you’re going to follow me anywhere I go?”
“Pretty much,” Camo responded. “I could become invisible if you would prefer.”
“No offense, Camo, but what I’d prefer is if you’d let me leave the castle alone. There’s something I need to check out, and a promise I made makes it impossible for me to go there accompanied.”
“I will follow you for the first while, then,” Camo said.
“And you’re okay with staying on the path while I go take care of my business?”
“If that is what I must do, then fine, but if I stay here with nothing to report, I imagine it would not go well.”
“I can live with that as long as you tell Hammer Strike to ask me about it instead of asking you. I don’t want you in trouble for something I need to do.”
“Lead the way.”
Nodding, Vital walked resolutely out the main gate with his companion, his expression troubled as they wound a little ways up the path until the castle was nearly out of sight. “This is where I need to leave you, Camo. And if Espionage is here, could you ask him to show himself? I know Shawn wants to protect me, but the person I’m going to meet can’t let anyone else see her. She’ll be expecting me, so I’ll be okay.”
“I’ll make sure you won’t be bothered,” Camo promised.
“Thank you,” Vital said as he nodded his head and slowly made his way into the woods. Reaching out tentatively with his magic, a dim glow emanated from his focus’ pearl as he made his way into the woods, then backtracked as he turned toward the chasm and the staircase he knew laid in wait. Finally, he arrived at the stairs and soon found himself back at the familiar cave, staring up at the great crystalline tree that had saved all of their lives just a little over two months ago. As he had feared, the tree looked far less luminous. Its crystal chimes tinkled hollowly. “Harmony?”
“What are you doing here, child?” the voice of Harmony whispered in his mind. She sounded tired.
“You’re sick,” he said bluntly.
“... That is my burden to bear, just as you have your own to take in time.”
“You didn’t say anything about my new form.”
“I knew you would take it. Your heart was already that of a Unicorn’s, and I could feel the warp and weave of this world changing you, bonding to you … calling to you.”
“Why?”
“For reasons you will learn in time, young one.”
“You can’t tell me?”
“I am forbidden.”
“By who?”
“A power far greater than I, even at my full strength.” A cracking sounded through the tree as one of its roots lost its luster entirely and became grey and lifeless. The voice groaned.
“Harmony, what’s happening to you?” The light of the tree flared briefly, pushing the deadness back only slightly before it faltered and died, pulsing weakly.
“This, too, I cannot say,” the voice gasped. “For the sake of our world, I must bear it.” A single crystal dropped from the tree’s branches, tinkling as it struck each part of the tree before shattering on the cold stone floor of the cave.
“Then let me help you,” Vital said, his expression grim as he stepped forward, taking hold of his focus from his back.
Harmony’s voice cried in pain. “You cannot.”
“I’m not asking, Harmony. You’re in pain, and I can help. You said this world called to me, but you can’t tell me why. I feel like this might be a reason. I’ve worked with healing before on my world; I can do it again here.” Vital’s horn began to glow as he stood on his hind legs, holding to the focus with both hooves.
“Do not-”
“Harmony, you know full well what happens if you mess up someone’s spell mid-cast. Let me do my work.” His gaze was determined as the pearl began to glow once more with a pale white light. “From my heart to your heart. From my soul to yours. By the bond forged from the sacred gift, let my strength join to yours. I offer this gift freely. I give you everything.” The white light flared from the pearl, shining like a beacon. The moon’s light shone through the cavern entrance, falling on the Unicorn’s mane and tinging it silver as he channeled the magic directly from his horn into the pearl. The light flowed through the metal, pulsing like a heartbeat as the power continued to build. Then a beam of light slowly descended from the pearl’s chamber to the tree’s roots. He almost could have sworn he heard something squealing, even as the dead crystal slowly began to glow again. The stone shimmered and Vital couldn’t help but smile as the light from his focus dimmed, then finally died. Trembling, he dropped to all fours again and smiled as he placed a hoof against the ancient tree’s trunk. “Equestria can’t bear to lose you yet,” he said as he lay down within the hollow of the crystal tree’s roots. “And neither can I.”
“Vital Spark …”
“We’ll face this together, Harmony. You don’t have to do it alone.”
“... Thank you.”
“Why in the world would you surrender?” The Doctor demanded as the clang of their closing cell echoed against the stones.
“I’d prefer not to add to the kill count in a different country that could use it against us,” Hammer Strike replied.
“Pull the other one!” The Doctor said. “Any other situation and you’d have a body count rivaling a Minotaur civil war.”
“It depends on the country and situation. I want to figure out what’s going on first.”
“The sultan seems to favor locking away anypony questioning his ways,” a voice said from behind them. Upon turning around, the duo found themselves facing a stallion wearing a full set of steel armor, and by full set, it covered every section of him. The rest of the gaps had been filled in with heavy chainmail. Due to the coverage of the armor, they were unable to determine anything else about said stallion.
“Took you a moment to speak,” Hammer Strike noted.
“And what are you in for?” The Doctor asked.
“Of all things, Jaywalking,” he replied. “My name is-” the sound of a cell door slamming cut him off. “Just call me the Storyteller.”
“That armor is ridiculously advanced for this time period.” The Doctor scanned him with his screwdriver.
“It’s actually an old design from a friend. In fact, he’s standing right next to you.” He turned towards Hammer. “It’s good to see you’re still around, Strike. How fares your travels?”
“They go, to and from.”
“As do my own. So who is this with you?”
“I’m The Doctor,” The Doctor said.
“If you’re The Doctor, then where’s that box of legends you’re always with?”
“Well, I couldn’t exactly park it on top of the palace, could I? She’s outside the city in safe mode.”
“Considering I heard ‘she’ could fly without wings, I think you could land it anywhere.”
“It’s not exactly that simple” The Doctor said.
“Perhaps one day I’ll see how complex it is, but that, will have to be a story for another day.”
“... Well that's foreboding,” The Doctor noted.
“It’s not as bad as you would think,” Hammer Strike commented. “So, shall we break out of here?”
“I was wondering when you were going to say that,” Storyteller commented.
“Let's just finish up here,” The Doctor said. “I feel like I’ve got sand everywhere.”
“Alright,” Hammer Strike replied, his hooves glowing in blue fire as the bars of the cell dissipated, shifting its form until it was shaped like two greatswords. “Here you go,” he said, handing one off to Teller.
“Just like old times,” Storyteller commented as he hefted the sword onto his back. For some reason the blade stuck in place.
“Ooh, magnet enhancement.”
“Just like it was meant to be.”
Pensword lay upon a cloud looking up to the stars above him. Moon River perched on his belly and looking back and forth between father and the sky. Matthew was still amazed by the different constellations and nebulae, while Pensword easily navigated the sky like a map, casually pinpointing his exact location without a care or worry. He even knew how to navigate in Gryphonia. Yet, here, in this place, he could just relax on a cloud with his life mate at his side, his daughter on his chest, and all of them just having a wonderful time stargazing. Pensword sighed happily as he casually laid a foreleg around Lunar Fang’s shoulders.
“It’s good to finally do this.” Lunar Fang smiled.
“I know,” Pensword responded with a laugh as he moved a wing to touch her side. “With all that has happened, I have to say that it is good to just have time to myself. I hope you do not mind that I called the Changeling, well I do not know why, but I am calling him Preston.”
“I trust Me-Me knows what she’s doing,” Lunar Fang replied.
“I agree. I am seeing how he does with the paperwork for the evening.” Pensword turned to look at Lunar Fang, smiling. “So… what do you want to do this evening? No attacks, no monsters,” he moved a hoof to knock on a piece of wood he carried at his side. “Just the three of us.”
“It feels like forever since we just enjoyed ourselves,” Lunar Fang said.
“I agree with that.” Pensword sighed. “This reminds me of the time before the Third Gryphon War.” He chuckled at the memory. “You remember how crazy I got when you removed my uniform?” He shook his head. “Dang, I really have gone native.”
“Is that such a bad thing?”
“To be honest, no, it is not a bad thing, as I have the love of my life,” he whispered amorously. “I have to say, my dear, that you have become so much a part of my life my heart aches when you are not nearby.”
“I feel the same way,” she told him, moving in to nuzzle him.
He laughed as Lunar Fang’s muzzle brushed against his neck. Moon River joined in with a childish scree and hugged both of them, turning it into a family cuddle pile. He looked up at the stars and suddenly burst into a fit of giggles, which lasted a solid three minutes. “Jules Verne,” he wheezed out. “I am Doc Brown in the old west.” Though she didn’t understand what her father was talking about, Moon River joined in.
“These were great people from your home?” Lunar Fang asked.
This caused more laughter from Pensword. “Jules Verne was a great writer. He dreamt of things before they happened. Hundreds of years before they happened, from submarines to rockets to the moon.” He shook his head. “As for Doc Brown, he is a fictitious movie character that-” he began to chuckle again “-that dealt with time travel, saved a school teacher from death, and fell in love with the school teacher.” His laughter slowly tapered off to the occasional chuckle, then to just grinning mirthfully. “If, or when we return to earth, I need to show you the Back to the Future Trilogy, some of the movies made from Jules Verne's books, and what the real world counterparts became.”
“”I look forward to that. You know, I think this is the first time I’ve been able to have a normal night-day cycle in a while,” she said, enjoying the cool night air.
“Yeah, I hope to get back into a night-day cycle as well, but I keep switching between the two.” He let out a brief guffaw. “I hope you do not mind a crazy mate that cannot get his sleep pattern right.”
“You are half day half night.” Lunar laughed. “I’m surprised you can sleep at all.”
“I am mortal. I sleep when I can, which usually is when my friends knock me out because I wear myself out.” He laughed again, startling Moon River briefly before she giggled and chittered in pleasure at the bouncing sensation. “Like the time Grif knocked me out while I was besieging Fort Triumph.” He sighed. “That happened only once or twice, but I will always remember it.”
“Your friends care about you. Honestly, the three of you care more for each other's health than yourselves.”
“That is the truth,” Pensword answered. “I care for my friends. I care for you more than my own breath, as well as our daughter. I would lay my life down and pass to the other side if it meant our daughter would live to be an adult.”
Lunar Fang shuddered. “I hope that never comes to pass.”
“Agreed, for I do not know what I would do if you were ever killed. I have a poor track record when people kill loved ones.”
“Well then, let's hope that never comes to pass.” she nuzzled him again. “So, how long before something happens do you think?”
“I hope not for another couple nights. I want time to de-stress, and get Fizzy to watch Moon River while you and I find a nice secluded cloud,” he said meaningfully as he kissed the side of her neck.
“River, why don’t we go find Fizzpot?” Lunar Fang said quite suddenly.
Fizzpot!” Moon River cheered happily. A moment later the Changeling in question buzzed up to the cloud, blinking in confusion.
“Strange. I have realized now the emotion she creates when she wants me.” He was baffled. “As a master infiltrator, it is strange having your own emotions and those of another.” He looked to Pensword and Lunar Fang. “What do you wish for me to do?”
“Can you look after her for a few hours?” Lunar Fang asked him.
“Of course. I will make sure she is taken care of. Shall I put her to bed in the morning if you are not back by then?”
“I think we should be back before dawn,” Pensword answered, giving Lunar Fang a look.
“We may be back by dawn.” Lunar Fang’s smile was almost predatory. “You’ve been gone far too long, Pensword.”
Pensword just grinned as he returned the predatory smile. “Ah…” he answered.
Fizzpot left as quickly as possible, a green glow emanating over his black cheeks. He could already feel the emotions of the incredibly amorous ponies, and he did not feel comfortable exposing little Moon River to such things just yet. Leaving the sky behind, the cloud Pensword and Lunar Fang had been resting on slowly turned to more of a cloud cave. Lunar Fang’s giggles carried on the wind as Fizzpot did his best to buzz his wings harder.
“Thanks for bringing these, Lily, Rose, Daisy,” Grif said to the three mares as Bladefeathers unloaded the cartload of flowers. He handed them each a bag of bits. “I really appreciate it.”
The three mares accepted the bits, but said very little as the Gryphons finished unloading the flowers. Today was the day for Kel'leam’s mourning ceremony, and Grif was working hard to make sure the preparations were ready by sunset, the traditional time Gryphons mourned warriors whose bodies had not been sent to them to rest.
A large area had been set aside outside the half finished Bladefeather compound, where several bonfires had been prepared to be lit when the light started to fade. A small pulpit had been placed near a large willow tree that had been transplanted during the construction process. A table lay beside it with Kel'leams shield leaning against it. Grif had polished it to a high finish so it glowed in the sunlight.
Grif nodded towards several of his clan as they worked arranging the white roses, carnations and gladioli. The entire clan had put effort into this ceremony. Fresh meat was hunted and decorations were put up.
Sylvio nudged at Grif’s side. When Grif looked to the timberwolf it seemed to gesture with its muzzle to the gate. Grif looked in the direction with a confused stare until he caught the slight trace of pink near the wall. He made his way over silently. As he exited the gate he found Fluttershy looking nervously inside the grounds. “Did you need something, Fluttershy?” Grif asked.
Fluttershy jumped into the air, her wings promptly locking as she dropped directly onto her back while making a bleating sound very similar to that of a goat.
“Fluttershy? It’s Grif. Are you okay?” He said carefully in a slow tone, hoping to ease her nerves.
It took a sticky lick from Sylvio to snap her out of her surprise, but Fluttershy eventually found her way back onto her hooves. She brushed her mane back into position as best she could before addressing the warrior. “Oh, I’m so sorry, I didn’t want to intrude. I was just… well, I noticed you were preparing the right of Kel’daran, and… well, I heard about Kel'leam and I… I…” Though she clearly was doing her best to put on a brave face, the tears still pooled in her eyes.
Grif silently moved closer and pulled her into a hug. “I think Kel'leam would appreciate if you showed up to help us see him off. Thank you.”
Fluttershy sobbed. “Why do some Gryphons have to be such meanies?”
“Why do some bears kill other bears? Why do some lions go after another lion’s cubs? We’re predators, Fluttershy, and, unfortunately, it brings out the worst in some of us.”
Fluttershy sniffled, then wiped her tears, looking with determination into Grif’s eyes. “What can I do to help?”
“Some Gryphons are attempting to arrange the flowers. We’re… not really good at that sort of thing. Perhaps you could help them out?” he asked her.
“Anything for him, Grif. He was a true friend.”
“Thank you, Fluttershy,” he said, separating from her. “You’re a good friend, too.” Fluttershy blushed at the compliment and tentatively hovered to the large pile of flowers and bouquets, greeting the other Gryphons with a bow of respect before carefully beginning the arrangements.
“Come on now, exit’s right here,” Hammer Strike called out to the group, off to his right the Greatsword he’d forged lay discarded, having swapped to his own hooves instead.
The Doctor was following behind him, mumbling to himself and scanning things with his sonic screwdriver.
Storyteller followed behind, surprisingly, quiet for a change.
The passage led down a narrow corridor and a large stone spiral staircase. The impromptu adventurers encountered more Horse guards on the way who were easily dealt with by Hammer Strike’s hooves or Storyteller’s blade until they finally came to a large metal door separating them from the outside.
“I can pick the lock with the sonic,” The Doctor said as he started attempting to disable the lock.
“Doctor ...” Hammer Strike commented.
“This will only take a moment.”
“...Doctor…”
“It’ll be done momentarily.”
The door suddenly burst open as Hammer Strike punched it with enough force to rip it off its hinges.
“Well sure, if you want to cheat your way out,” The Doctor growled.
“Doc, we’re on a time limit.”
“You know, this reminds me of a door that I couldn’t pick through. Had to break through it using the sheer weight of this armor,” Storyteller commented, following them through the now open door.
“Storyteller, could you please save these stories for when we can listen to them?” Hammer asked.
“Sure, I’ll try to keep the stories to a limit.”
“Hammer Strike, you know how you were saying we were brought here for a reason?” The Doctor asked.
“What seems to be the… problem? ... Wonderful,” Hammer Strike finished, as he looked out to their little problem. “Full on battle. Got it.” Standing not far off, several Horses were being menaced by a group of large figures imposing on them, only these figures seemed to be horses made of sifting and reforming sands.
Hammer Strike gave a charge, colliding with said sand Horses to scatter them for a moment. The actual Saddle Arabian Horses took off quickly in the distraction, leaving the trio with the now reformed sand Horses.
“That didn’t work!” The Doctor shouted.
Hammer Strike hit each of them again, scattering them once more with the same results as before.
“I don’t think hitting them is working,” The Storyteller said in an unusually calm tone.
Hammer Strike’s hooves burst into blue fire as he heated the sand horses in front into solid glass, then proceeded to punch them, shattering them. “Try reforming from that!” He called out, turning back to the other two. “There, problem solved. Let’s go now.”
“Thank you, oh great Djinn,” one of the Horses said as the others followed out from behind a corner before bowing to him, shaking in terrified awe.
“I think you just gained some followers,” Storyteller commented. “But you already have us for companions. I don’t think we should have a bigger group.”
“What are you talking about?” The Doctor asked, staring at the Storyteller. “The sonic’s making a beeping noise in that direction!” The Doctor pointed to the palace.
“Let’s go, then,” Hammer Strike said, heading off in said direction.
The three charged into the throne room of the palace after making their way through a series of twisting corridors, breaking several sand stallions, nine doors, and six walls that happened to get in their way.
“So, you’re finally here,” an elderly stallion with a salt and pepper coat and mane and a giant turban said as he rose from his throne of cushions. He casually grabbed a cane that had been resting on one of the pillows as he rested his forehooves on top of it. “We’ve been waiting for you.”
“I doubt you have the foresight of a seer,” Storyteller called out. “I would know, I’ve met my fair share of them in my journeys.”
“I address the leader of the Sand People in accordance with article fifteen of the Shadow Proclamation. I command you to leave this world with all the authority of the Slithereen government of Raxacoricofallapatorius and the Gleth Confederacy as sanctioned by the mighty Jagrafess and the Daleks. Now leave this planet in peace,” The Doctor demanded in a very stern voice.
“The leader of the Sand People … hmmm, and what makes you say people? Are they not mighty Horses? And what is this you speak of? Aliens? These are merely sand elementals bound to the service of their master. They are mindless, formless, shapeless. And they serve me.” The old stallion chuckled dryly as the sand Horses drew closer. “So long as I control their prison, I control them. They are mine, and we shall rule this pathetic kingdom, spreading across the desert and beyond!”
It was at that moment that the sand Horses burst into flame, leaving a nice crystal statue behind. “Yeah, about your sand army,” Hammer Strike commented, his hooves glowing in blue fire. “Very intimidating. The wind really cuts them down to size, though, and heat, well, you can see the results.”
“Now where is it?” The Doctor glared at the Sultan. “Don’t lie to me. There is no magic on Equis that could replicate this. Someone must have found something to give you this power, didn’t they?”
“And what if somehorse did? It is of no matter to us,” the old Horse rasped. “The sands are patient, just as water is patient. All they needed was a living being to guide them, to mold them. Are they not glorious to behold?” he asked as a sudden whirlwind of sand blew into the room, composing itself into a score of stallions. “And limitless in number. Tell me, how long can you last against an army as vast as the deserts themselves?” He laughed and broke off into a coughing fit as bits of sand tumbled out of his mane. When he opened his eyes, they were bloodshot, even as he smiled. “Even a desert must feed.”
“You really think you're the one in control?” The Doctor asked. “You honestly believe you are controlling them?”
“Naturally. They wouldn’t do a thing without me. They need me. Yes,” he hissed, his voice sifting like sand through an hourglass. “They need us.”
“Us? Sound to me like a hivemind problem, and those aren’t the easiest to get rid of,” Storyteller commented.
“Silence!” the Sultan commanded. “First that foolish old man and his daughter, then his pathetic soldiers. Now you three… things. We will grind your bones to dust and scatter you amongst the sands!” A great wind suddenly blew through the chamber as sand blasted and crept through every crack and crevice in a slowly mounting wave.
“You know how many others have threatened me in the same way? I’ve faced down numerous enemies, stronger and much much more dangerous than you. I’ve seen the end of the universe and…”
The Doctor was cut off by flashes of light and the sound of glass shattering, one after another. “Doctor, they’re advancing, and I know you aren’t going to do much fighting, but could you not yell in our ears?” Hammer Strike commented as he burst another glass figure.
“I agree with Strike on this,” Storyteller added, waiting for Hammer Strike to turn the ones in front of him to glass to continue his own work.
“... Fine,” The Doctor grumbled as the sand ponies advanced.
Despite the best of their efforts, said efforts mainly being Hammer Strike’s as The Doctor and Storyteller found themselves without any means to injure these sand horses, the group found themselves backed against a wall surrounded by sand and the sultan stood, grinning malevolently as he watched, sand swirling around him even as it streamed into him, turning his coat and mane a sandy gold. His eyes now had the appearance of carefully sculpted wet sand as they darted left and right while his mane and tail began to shift in the sudden sandstorm, becoming living sand that billowed in the wind. “Die…” he hissed, his voice practically emotionless as it echoed around the chamber.
“Okay, that is enough!” Hammer Strike yelled out in frustration, his eyes and hooves bursting with magic as a fiery dome surrounded the trio. “I have had enough of this nonsense,” he finished as the dome began to expand outward, burning through the sand stallions and any fragments of sand that attempted to form new ones. “I swear, after I’m through with you, you’d be lucky to count yourself as ash amongst all your sand.”
“We are the sand. We are one. We do not fear thee.” The false sultan laughed hollowly as cracks began to run across his form. “We are limitless.” He laughed as his body slowly began to fall apart layer by layer. “The host has been incorporated. We shall spread. We shall grow. The storm is coming. The storm is coming!” His ghostly laughter carried on the wind as he finished collapsing and the sand seeped away through the cracks.
“He went through the cracks. We’re going deeper into this place, let’s go,” Hammer Strike said firmly, the dome of fire still surrounding them as he moved on.
The Doctor scanned around with his sonic. “There. A strange radiation coming from that direction.” He pointed to the sealed chambers behind the sultan’s throne.
Hammer Strike simply walked up to the doorway and hit it with enough force to break the bar locking it from the inside. The doors burst open with the force of a sudden sandstorm as it blew into Hammer Strike, glancing harmlessly off the dome. He stood resolutely before it and pressed on into the darkness, Doctor and Storyteller in tow. As they clopped along down a set of stairs, The Doctor took his time to examine the stone walls.
“This is fascinating,” The Doctor said. “It looks like the sand’s been breaking this down for years.”
“Somehow, I doubt he’s had the whole sand thing going that long,” The Storyteller said as he looked around.
As the trio continued to descend, they eventually reached a landing which led down a long corridor. A series of iron barred cells stood to either side. In the light of Hammer’s flame shield, they could just make out the horrified, deformed faces of leather garbed statues. Hooves and muzzles had broken off and cracks spread across their forms.
“They’ve been converting Horses for years,” The Doctor said, agast as he examined the cells.
“Then let’s put an end to this,” Hammer Strike said as the bars to the cells melted around them.
Deeper within the corridor, a dim roar echoed the closer they drew as a feminine voice carried faintly on the wind. “Please, just let my father go. He’s old and frail. He can’t hurt you anymore.”
Hammer Strike pushed on, quicker than before towards the voice. The roaring shifted in pitch and tone as the winds whistled through the cracks.
“Run, Jasmine,” an elderly voice said. As the party raced into the adjoining chamber, a great glowing red light illuminated the room, surrounding a great glass sphere filled with a cloud of black sand. Multiple rings orbited around it frantically as more sand blew from it like a whirlwind, bombarding the metal dais where the dim remnants of runes sparked feebly against the onslaught. Trapped in a circle of calm, a great grey stallion lay on the floor, his royal robes in tatters. Through the holes, a great number of pale white scars dotted his hide, dyed pink by blood. His frame bespoke war and health even in the midst of his old age. In his prime, this stallion would have been a force to be reckoned with. Sitting next to him, a black mare with grey eyes and a sapphire-blue mane and tail stroked his mane. Blood stained her hooves from the tiny cuts that had clotted with dirt and blood on the older stallion’s body.
“The orb. It’s the center of the control!” The Doctor said. “It’s been feeding on greed and hunger for power, trying to break free, but all that power must have been too much. All the subconscious desires must have corrupted its mind, twisted it into this.” The Doctor hesitated, even as the tears ran down his cheeks. “It’s all rage and hate now. It’ll destroy this world if it gets the chance… You’re going to have to kill it. Oh sweet Celestia, we have to kill it.”
Hammer Strike turned his attention towards the orb, and then back to the real sultan and his daughter. He pushed his power further as he surrounded the two in a second dome, sealing them off from the sand around them.
“What kind of sorcery is this?” Jasmine said in awe as the sand recoiled.
“Pyromancy,” her father coughed, until he noticed the flaming Earth Pony and his glowing blue hooves. “...What?”
“...We know you… your form… your flame… Hammer Strike,” the voice hissed. “The very rocks know your name… and your destiny.” The voice chuckled. “To die. We can change that. Together, we can do great things…”
“Sorry to disappoint you,” Hammer Strike started as he grabbed the orb. “But I have somepony waiting for me back home,” he finished, applying pressure to the orb until it shattered in his hooves.
Sibilant laughter filled the air as the black sand blasted out, obscuring the room. “At last!” It hissed. ”Free!” The sand dove towards the floor.
“Not exactly.” Storyteller said in response.
A painful shriek filled the room as the sand recoiled from the floor, a sudden blue light blazing up from the stones. “What magic is this?” it shrieked as black obsidian formed from its melted portions. The storm had died and any sand that tried to enter the room immediately melted to glass on contact with Hammer Strike’s barrier.
“My own,” Hammer replied. “Every crack, every single opening, sealed by my own power. You have nowhere to run, nowhere to hide, and after I finish, nothing left of you,” he told the entity as his barrier closed in around the room, compressing everything closer and closer, burning the black obsidian and black sand into nothingness as it passed over it. “You fought for freedom by control of an individual, attempted to take over this land and more, innocents killed, the list goes on, but right here, right now, you will do nothing, but die.”
The creature raised a mighty screech as it slowly collapsed in on itself like a black hole imploding, recalling a dim memory to Hammer Strike of a creature from the Human world. Something to do with someone named Tolkien and a returning king. At last, the din faded to a tiny whimper, and lastly nothing as the entity’s essence was completely obliterated and dispersed in the power of thaumic fire.
Hammer Strike exhaled, the flames around them disappearing until all that was left was the fire around his hooves. “Too much intake. Didn’t output enough...” he muttered quietly before taking a deep breath in.
“... Who are you strangers?” the mare asked. Closer inspection revealed an intricate circlet around her head, a symbol of her rank and status even amidst the filmy cloths around her body.
“I’m The Doctor,” The Doctor said in his usual tone.
“My name is—” a decayed slab of stone fell down with a thundering crack as it shattered against the ground, cutting him off. “...They call me The Storyteller.”
“Hammer Strike.”
Jasmine bowed her head. “You have my thanks,” she said. “Could you help me get my father back to his quarters? That … thing nearly killed him.”
Hammer Strike walked over to them and lowered himself slightly. “Lift him onto my back. I’ll carry him.”
“Brave Storyteller, might you be able to assist me?” she asked as she began to lift her Father up.
“Certainly.”
With that being said, they made their way back into the throne room and laid the Sultan down on his cushions. Ten minutes later, the Sultan was being tended to by a local healer who looked very much relieved. “He’ll be alright, won’t he?” Jasmine asked as she turned to The Doctor.
“He’ll be right as rain in no time,” The Doctor said with a half smile.
Jasmine sighed in relief before turning to face Hammer Strike. “Then on behalf of my father and my kingdom, I give my thanks to Celestia’s Ghost,” she said, bowing.
“No problem. I’m usually where I’m needed,” Hammer Strike replied. “And no need for titles, please.”
“I was not aware that you were capable of such feats of magic,” Jasmine said. “You were more like Djinn than a Pony, dealing with that creature.”
“I have plenty of tricks up my sleeves. Something for every situation,” Hammer Strike replied. “Got to be prepared for anything.”
“That is true.” She nodded. “Father will likely give you a title when he comes around again. Such heroism ought to be remembered, and rewarded.”
“I don’t need a reward. You needed help, we came to your aid.”
“All the same, this act will not go unnoticed. All of Saddle Arabia is in your debt, and all of Equis besides.” A sudden cough brought all’s attention back to the makeshift throne, where the sultan had just awoken.
“...Where?” the Sultan asked, raising his head only to be roughly embraced by Jasmine.
“Oh, father, thank goodness you’re alright.”
“I remember that… thing and… a great burning creature saving us. It burned with the fire of…” he suddenly noticed Hammer Strike and his burning hooves. “...That right there. A Djinn. A Djinn of fire saved us.” He smiled and slumped back down onto his pillows again, his eyes closed as he breathed deeply.
“My name is Hammer Strike. A pleasure.”
“...That name is not unknown to me. He nodded his head weakly towards the stallion with the hourglass cutie mark. “Doctor. I see your form has changed, but your mark is still the same.”
“Ah… you’ll forgive me, but what was your name again?” The Doctor asked.
The sultan chuckled. “Aamir, Doctor. My name is Aamir. Remember it. You will need it in your future adventures.” He chuckled.
“I’m sure I will,” The Doctor nodded. “Your people well need comfort. They have had a troublesome past few weeks.”
“Yes. I had hoped to have Storyteller assist. For some reason the people always liked having him near. But he told me he was waiting for an old friend, and judging by his body language, I assume he has found him.” The Sultan chuckled. “It will be up to my darling Jasmine, it seems. Speaking of which, tell me, Hammer Strike, are you still single?”
“Sorry, taken. Last time she had competition she beat them in a duel.” Hammer Strike chuckled.
“A formidable mare indeed.” The Sultan nodded. “With a fire perhaps to match your own. Very well. I would offer you a reward, but our kingdom is in disarray. We shall have to send a gift to the princesses for you after the kingdom is repaired.”
“Send the bill to them with my name on as well as the words, ‘Would you kindly?’ They’ll understand.”
“It is a strange request… but if you insist,” the Sultan said. “Might we press you to stay for a celebration in your honor at least?”
“Sorry, but I’m needed elsewhere,” Hammer Strike replied. “Right, Doc?”
“Ah, yes, of course. Places to go, Ponies to see. You know how it is. I’ll see you later… or would that be sooner? Nevermind. Let’s just go,” The Doctor said, sweating mildly as he headed for the stairs. After their brief walk, the trio found themselves standing before the TARDIS.
“So, Storyteller, what do you plan on doing now?” Hammer Strike asked.
Storyteller shrugged. “I might try to settle down. I’ve been traveling so long that I’ve forgotten what it feels like to have a home. Somewhere to rest my head and not worry about a knife in my back.”
The Doctor leaned over to Hammer Strike and whispered. “Where exactly did you meet him anyway?”
“...Yes,” Hammer Strike replied. “But I’m apparently an old friend, so… some time in the future, or past...”
“Well then.” The Doctor moved towards the central console. “Let’s head home, shall we?” he asked as he started flicking switches.
“We aren’t leaving him here, Doctor,” Hammer Strike started. “I can take the heat of armor in the desert, but I wouldn’t want to push it on him.”
“How many more strays must you pick up, Hammer Strike?” The Doctor asked with a sigh.
“Depends, Doc. How many times are you going to ask that question?”
“Oh, alright,” The Doctor sighed. “Let’s just go home. Derpy is probably wondering where I am right now.”
“Doc, you travel through time. I somewhat doubt that,” Hammer Strike replied before leaning his head out the TARDIS doors. “Come on, Storyteller. You’re coming with us.”
“Are you sure about that? I stand out like a sore hoof,” Storyteller replied.
“Not where we’re going,” Hammer Strike replied, chuckling as he entered the blue box once more with Storyteller following behind. “Alright, let’s get this show on the road. And you—” he pointed towards the center console. “Please, no more trips. I want to go home now.”
The TARDIS seemed to groan in response before the familiar sound echoed inside the box as they started traveling.
“And so, my brothers, sisters, and honored friends,” Grif’s voice cracked a little as he spoke. The ceremony was reaching its end. It had been a long and solemn occasion. Friends had come up to talk about good times and good memories about Kel'leam. They had spoken of his bravery and chivalry. Grif had been forced to relive the story of his final hours as he narrated the heroic work Kel'leam performed as a final act of loyalty to his emperor. He looked out at the assembled Gryphons. Up at the front, Grif’s family and Gilda, who had requested a spot close by, sat. Fluttershy shyly listened a little ways off, tears in her eyes as she dabbed with a handkerchief. Grif looked to his left, where Cheshire sat. Normally this was only traditional for the fallen warrior’s mate, but Grif had granted her this request. “We commend Kel'leam to fly with his ancestors out upon the winds. Wherever he is, I only hope he has embraced his family and that he waits for each of us. Fly well, Kel'leam.” With those last words, Grif gave a small bow and left the podium.There was a moment of silence before the crowd began to disperse.
Pensword stood off to the side as a few Thestrals approached certain Gryphons to speak to them. He looked to Grif and made a subtle shift with his wing, indicating a private corner with his head. Seeing the sign, Grif strode towards Pensword at a measured pace so as not to let anything appear off. “Hey, Pensword,” he said, his voice subdued. “What do you need?”
“Well, I need you to meet me in the completed meeting lodge that the Thestrals built. It has to do with Kel'leam, and I cannot say what it is at the moment, only that he is the one putting me up to this.”
“Just me?”
“Well, only those that my clan has approached on the sly. You should bring your wives as well. But above all, if none of my clan can get to her, you must bring Cheshire.” Pensword’s tone was resolute. Clearly he wouldn’t budge on this point.
“I’m not sure what this is, but thank you, Pensword.” Grif clapped his friend on the shoulder. “This means alot to me.”
“Do not thank me just yet,” he answered wearily. “Be there after Luna’s moon has risen all the way.” With that said, Pensword left, his shoulders slumped as he pressed on.
Hours later, Grif, Avalon, Shrial, Gilda, and Cheshire approached the lodge in question. Grif knocked carefully before entering. They all noticed that the lodge was guarded by Thestrals not just on the ground, but also perched upon the roofs. It was a two story viking style lodge with steep roofs, wood thatching, and an overhang around the entire outside wall. At each end of the roof’s peak, a wooden crescent moon sat painted silver-white.
The doors opened to reveal a young Thestral dressed in a robe, no older than five years. As the party entered, the place was lit by candles and a small fire burned in a pit. Pensword stood at the front of the hall looking upon them. He was dressed in an outfit no other pony or even Grif had seen him wear before. It was white with designs that could not be fully ascertained.
“Grif, Gilda, Cheshire, Avalon, Shiral. Please step to the outer ring of the fire,” Pensword instructed. As they approached, they noticed certain items laid on the ground around the fire. Each were wooden carvings of different things ranging from Kel'leam’s shield to Grif’s swords. Each was placed before a particular carving and soon realized each of these wooden objects had special meaning to each of them. Pensword waited for them to sit. When all had taken their places, the wooden shield remained alone. Kel'leam’s spot was empty.
“Please, pick the wooden pieces up and toss them into the fire,” Pensword instructed. Thanks to his training in thaumaturgy, Grif felt the subtle hint of magic hovering in the air. It was old magic, musty, ancient even. Something that made even Zecora’s totems feel new in comparison.
Grif lifted the representation of his swords and, taking a moment to contemplate what they meant, he tossed it into the flames. Gilda likewise followed suit. Chesire was next, followed by Avalon, then Shrial.
To their surprise, the representation of Kel'leam lifted up from the ground, and midway to Gryphon height a faint form began to appear. It grew stronger and stronger till Kel’leam stood before them, his body translucent, his expression grim. He flung the shield into the fire and the flames changed into a silvery-white. He turned to look at them and bowed respectfully to Pensword. “Thank you,” he said, his voice echoing like the inside of a cave. “I know this was hard for you and your people.” Then he turned to Cheshire, where tears stood in her eyes anew. “Cheshire…”
“Kel'leam.” She looked at him sadly. “Why’d you have to go and be a big damn hero?”
Kel'leam smiled ruefully. “It’s my nature. Would you love me if I were any other way?”
“And look where it got us,” she said. “I can’t touch you and you can’t touch me. What am I supposed to do with you gone?”
“Live,” Kel'leam said simply. “Live so the next generation won’t have to face our pains. Live to teach them to be more than trained killers. So Equestria can be defended. So everyone can have just a touch of insanity.” He smirked. “You changed me, Cheshire. And I will always be grateful for that.”
“When I get there, you’d better be ready for me” she told him. “Cause I’ll be looking for you.”
“Then we’ll get to play like we used to before you caught me. I’m looking forward to it.” He chuckled. Then he sighed and stared into her eyes. “I love you, Cheshire Bladefeather. I always will.”
“I love you too, you big idiot,” she said with something between a giggle and a sob.
With that done, Kel'leam turned to his clan leader, his expression serious. “Grif, this is an order from the higher ups as well as from me. Stop beating yourself up. And if you don’t, so help me, I will haunt you until the day you die.”
“Would that be any different?” Grif chuckled dryly. “I barely noticed your presence when you were alive”
“And the Winds gave me that gift for a reason, Grif. My mission was to live, to spread justice, and to teach mercy by my actions. My death was not your fault. It was preordained.”
“To hell with that,” Grif told him. “I’ll make my own destiny and I’ll make that world we talked about, Kel'leam. I’ll show our people what true glory is.”
“The ancestors expect nothing less.” Kel'leam smirked. “And neither did I. You’d still better learn to forgive yourself, though.”
“Do you believe in me?” Grif asked him.
“Always.”
“Then I shall believe in that. I will make you proud, brother, and when we fly together on the winds, I will tell you of all the things I’ve done.”
“I’ll look forward to that.” Kel'leam smiled and turned to face Gilda.
“You took me in,” Gilda started slowly. “I was ungrateful and stubborn, and you took me in, and fed me, and brought me into the company.” Her eyes brimmed with tears as she spoke. “And all I ever did was act like a selfish, arrogant little cub who only thought of herself. You deserved more gratitude than that.”
“You already gave it.” Kel'leam smiled. “You grew up. You changed. You learned. And you’ve become a fine warrior because you finally humbled yourself. Your choice to change, that was my thanks.”
“Still, I wasn’t worth it. Why did you help me?” she asked.
“Because you were. Never think otherwise. I used to think that about myself. It nearly destroyed me. Don’t make the same mistake.”
“I hope one day I can say I was worthy of you,” she said. “For what it’s worth, thank you.”
“You already are. Your family is very proud of you. They send their love.”
“Thank you, Kel'leam.” Gilda sobbed as his image began to fade.
“We’re always with you. Never forget that. And Grif, remember, find that gem!” With that, the silver flame died, and Kel'leam was gone, his last urgent instruction hanging on the wind as it passed by each of them, dancing around them briefly before finally leaving through the opening above the lodge. No words were said as the group separated. They all needed time to think on Kel'leams words.
Vital Spark slept peacefully on his bed, the sun already high in the sky, but that didn’t bother him as he curled beneath his covers. He smiled as he dreamed, even while his horn sparked casually from time to time. His leg band still held tightly near his shoulder as he slept, the diamond refracting the light through the rest of the room and casting images of windigo across the walls.
Quietly and gently, a pair of headphones were placed on his ears. Before his brain could register the feeling to wake him up and check it out, however, the first few notes of Mozart's Fortieth Symphony blasted into his ear canals.
Vital Spark leapt a good three feet into the air, tearing out the headphones from his ears before landing back down on his bed again. “What the BUCK?”
“Hey! You are half an hour late,” Grif told him. “It’s in the waiver.” The Gryphon held up a familiar document bearing Conor’s signature at the bottom. “So what have you been doing to be so tired?”
Tiny bags hung under Vital’s eyes. “I can’t tell you,” he said before a massive yawn finished his sentence.
“...You know, if it were practically anybody else, I’d think they’d gotten hammered to the wall and couldn’t remember the night enough to tell me, but this is you, and you’re hiding something important. Now I’m going to look the other way today, but if this becomes a thing, then you're going to end up telling me.”
Vital sighed. “Fine. But I don’t know how much I’ll be allowed to say without permission.”
“Is this going to kill you?” Grif asked bluntly.
“I don’t think so. Someone just needed my help.”
“Is someone else going to die if you keep doing it?”
“No.”
“Listen, Conor— Vital. I’m not your mother. I’m not here to lead you around by the hoof and tell you right from wrong. If it’s not killing you and this doesn’t become a regular thing, then it’s not my business, okay?”
“Thanks for understanding, Grif— Taze. I really appreciate it.”
“Now get out of bed and get dressed. The guys are restless and you already missed breakfast.”
“Yes, sir,” Vital said as he got off the mattress and twisted his band. In a flash of light, Conor stood, then moved to a stand that held a new set of leather armor from the smith. “Time to start the next level.”
“Hey, look at it this way,” Grif said as he activated his own gauntlet. Taze stood over Conor in Grif’s plated armor. “You aren't likely to be using heavy armor at any point, so you probably won’t get a lot heavier than that.”
“I might go for it anyways, just for the sake of building endurance. You never know when you might need it. Let alone the speed and agility that comes with shedding it. I’ll be like Gohan and you’d be Picollo.”
“I see you’ve actually been paying attention to what you’re told.” Taze laughed “Don’t worry, by the way. I leave the dodge training to Hammer Strike.” Grif smirked.
“I… need an adult?”
“I am an adult.” Taze smirked evilly.
“Why do I get the feeling today is going is going to be hell?”
“You are familiar with the twelve labors of Hercules, yes?”
Conor nodded, performing a very real cartoonish gulp.
“You should be so lucky,” Taze said in a sinister tone.
Vital’s eyes widened and he took on a tone of voice reminiscent of a certain black cartoon duck. “...Mother.”
Grif made his way to the Gantrithor’s core room. He had drawn the short straw and was therefore given the duty of checking if Hammer Strike was back yet. It had taken him nearly fifteen minutes to navigate the Gantrithor’s massive labyrinth of rooms and decks to find his way to the core chamber, and he was almost certain if Hammer Strike was back he’d have been gone by now. As it turned out, his timing was perfect as he picked up the sound of the TARDIS materializing.
Hammer Strike walked out of the blue box with a certain golem on his back and an armored figure. “Grif, here’s something for you. TARDIS doesn’t like when The Doctor thinks she’s lying.”
“Nice to see you back, Hammer Strike,” Grif said as the TARDIS immediately began to dematerialize. “Who's your friend?”
“My name is—” Hammer Strike slammed the golem on the ground. “But, you can call me The Storyteller.”
“Huh,” Grif said. “So we picked up another stray, huh?”
“Don’t you dare.” Hammer Strike frowned for a moment. “Circlet, you around? I got a golem here. Try to merge, or whatever works.”
Several arcs of red lightning shot between the core and the golem. The ley lines drawn onto the golem were quickly filled in with blood-red energy that strobed across the golem in long slow movements. The eyes of the golem opened moments later, burning with a deep ruby-red fire as it slowly began to stir and rise. “C- can you hear me?” a female voice asked in a monotone.
“Yep.”
“This is unusual,” the voice said. “It’s been so long since I’ve had a physical presence.”
“To be expected, honestly.” Hammer Strike shrugged. “At least you have a physical form now, and now we don’t have to worry about Pensword translating for several hours, eh?”
“It will be good to see the core put to proper use, Lord Hammer Strike,” the golem responded.
“Now, I have to get The Storyteller settled in, and then, you and I shall have a supply of paper, quills, and plenty of ink to work with,” Hammer Strike commented with a small grin.
“I will await your arrival.” she said, nodding her head in respect.
“Alright. Grif, status report. How long has it been?”
“About twenty hours, I’d say,” Grif noted. “I wasn’t there when you left, so I can’t be exact.”
“And here I said I wanted to be back within an hour of leaving… I also have a letter to send,” he mumbled.
“So how was the trip?
“Long story short, I now know why I’m called the Djinn of Flame in Saddle Arabia.”
“Quite the adventure, though the sand stallions were interesting,” Storyteller commented.
“The Doctor owes you one?” Grif asked.
“Certainly does. Now, come on, got things I need to do right now,” Hammer Strike said, leading the group out of the room. “We’ll be back shortly, Circlet.”
Fifteen minutes later the trio found themselves stepping off the massive warship and onto the docks. Storyteller took the time to recount what happened in Saddle Arabia to Grif.
“That was when he got the idea to turn them to glass, burning away at the grains of sand that made up their form, and then, with a simple punch, they shattered, unable to reform again.”
“So pretty much an average Tuesday, then?” Grif asked Hammer Strike.
“Close enough to one.”
“So where are we going to put our Storyteller?” Grif asked.
“As the head of the more well-armed troops.”
“I kinda meant physically,” Grif said. “There aren't a lot of rooms left, and we’re still working on our third barracks.”
“There are some open rooms in the castle, like next to the forge, assuming the blood’s been properly cleaned after Cheshire’s little mele.”
“Okay, you know we should work on planning out more general housing. I mean, we may need to start bringing in more civilians for things we need.”
“I thought ahead of you on that. Should be here within a week, actually. After that, we’ll have construction begin on the first district.”
“Good to hear. Honestly, we got all the basic resources to really make a foothold. Time we used some of them.”
“Certainly is.”
“You know, this place didn’t age too bad. Back in the day, the castle could have used some work done, but after the work that you have put in, I’d say you should have a secure place on your hooves,” Storyteller said, looking around them.
“You’ve been to Unity?” Grif asked him.
“Yes, I have. But that, is a story for another day.”
Conor was hard at work in the training arena practicing with a bo-staff as he moved through a series of defensive move sets. For now, his movements were unsteady and uncoordinated. He had clearly never handled such a weapon in his life. Pausing to wipe his forehead, he leaned against the staff as he looked up at the setting sun. “Clover is so going to kill me,” he said.
“Why?” Pensword asked as he walked into the area. “How is she going to kill you?”
“I missed my magic lesson today to focus on my training. I’m guessing she’s going to make it another all-nighter for me.”
“I wouldn’t say so,” Pensword responded with a chuckle. “What use is a mage without the ability to defend yourself without magic? What if Chrysalis finds a field that disrupts your power, or some enemy is immune to magic? I am the commander, and she will understand that. I want you able to defend yourself no matter the situation. I train to fight not only with wings, but without wings as well. So I want you to train with and without magic.”
“We’ll need to set up a schedule between her and Grif then. I’d rather not risk having her get upset with me.”
“Very well. I shall get to that next on my list,” Pensword said as he flattened his left ear. “Also, I need to warn you. Me-Me thought it funny to add to the number of suction cup bolts Moon River owns. Do not be surprised if you get sneak attacked.” No sooner had the words left his mouth when two suction cup bolts struck the pair, Pensword on his head and Conor his back. “I think Fizzpot has been roped into being her aerial attack platform.” He looked at the ground. “However, she might need to work on the aim.” Three more bolts lay in the dirt.
“She’ll improve. She’s certainly developing fast enough as it is.”
“I just wonder what she will be like when she is a teen.” Pensword sighed. “But I am wondering, who gave her that crossbow? Did you know she refused to let us take it away from her when we put her to bed? We had to put it unloaded at the foot of her bed.” He sighed. “I wonder if I would be called a negligent parent when I am only allowing her to go after a hobby. I have no plans to let her touch the real thing until she is at least five years old.”
“Is that a cultural thing?”
“Is what a cultural thing?”
“The whole weapons training at five thing.”
“Oh, no. At five, I will teach her how to throw a tomahawk. That is cultural, but why would I just stick to one weapon at five?” He smiled with pride. “I was throwing a tomahawk at five years myself. I only tell you about the tomahawk because I consider you a brother.”
“Well, you are her father, and she does seem to be maturing pretty quickly, so I suppose by five she should be developed enough to handle it.” Conor shrugged. “Cultures are really different here sometimes, aren’t they?”
“How so?” Pensword asked with a blank look. “In what way? Remember, to me I grew up in a culture a thousand years in the past. I grew up on the frontier where bandits and raiders were a threat on a regular basis. At a young age, I had a bounty on my head for killing bandits, and was praised by those in my community.” His expression grew distant as he remembered those happier times.
“Well, back home most parents wouldn’t let a five-year-old anywhere near a firearm, let alone a weapon. They might allow for martial arts training if it’s the basics, but nothing too violent. Now I’m here and I find out how that’s a regular thing for Thestrals, a race that had always been mythical until I literally got pulled out of our world by a practical deity of pure chaos. I just find it all a little strange still, I guess.”
Pensword flapped his wings to gain air and patted Conor’s shoulder. “There, there. You’ll make sense of this, and maybe settle down with a nice mare and sire foals,” he said in a soft tone of voice. “Still, you think Earth was dangerous? We have Dragons, Manticores, Cockatrices, and that is just naming some of the more deadly creatures in the forest.”
“Hey, I’m not questioning your choices. You’re right, there are dangers here. It’s just taking some time for me to adjust is all. Secondly, why did you say mare? I thought you guys didn’t want me to stay here.”
Pensword blinked once, twice as he kept his eyes closed. He shook his head. “Look, mare is, I did mention that I see myself Equestrian, right? That I grew up with these terms? What do you call the opposite gender of humans?” he asked as he paused. “Okay, memory gap found.” He muttered as if he was speaking to somepony else.
“It’s alright, Pensword, I know you’re used to the Equestrian version. I just wanted to make sure I understood you correctly.” Conor sighed. “So what now? I’m just about done with my training for the day.” His eyes suddenly widened. “Crap, I have orchestra practice tonight!”
“Then you finish, shower, and get your flank over to practice, and I will be sure to have a sleep drought ready for you tonight, it will put you out till your alarm clock blares, making you feel like you got a full eight hours of sleep.”
“Thanks, Pensword, I’ll see you later!” Conor shouted as he ran, his armor clanking as the studs jangled against one another. In a flash of light, Vital Spark was racing as fast as his hooves could carry him.
Pensword shook his head. “Good luck,” he whispered with a chuckle. “Those mares will be all over you.”
“Alright, let’s see,” Hammer Strike muttered to himself. “Storyteller is settling in and learning names, Grif had things to do, got quills, inkwells, and plenty of parchment ready. Good, I think I should be free to work on upgrades now.” Hammer Strike grinned for a second before his expression relaxed and he exited his study to start his walk to the Gantrithor.
Only, he was cut off before he could make it onboard.
“Oi, Hammer Strike! There’s some giant ponies asking for you outside the gate! Also, how dare ya! Holding out that gin of fire from me and Charge!” Granado shouted from the gate.
Hammer Strike paused, trying to think on what in the world they were talking about before it clicked in his head. “It’s always after a trip that they show up… why is that?” He frowned. “Demo, wrong type of Djinn, not the liquor kind!” Hammer called back towards the Demos as he headed towards the gate. “Open it up.”
The gate opened and in walked a single Arabian stallion dressed in a thick green robe covering his entire body and the top of his head. His face was covered by an ornate and highly polished steel mask that stretched out over his eyes and down the sides of his muzzle. Several plates of armor lay on top of the cloth of the robe covering his chest and shoulders. At his side swung a shamshire in a long metal sheath. The ornate handle curved outwards opposite of the blade before ending in a large rounded gold pommel with a swirl design.
He bowed his head to Hammer Strike before he began to speak. His equish came out clumsily with a thick Arabian accent. “Greetings, honored one! I am Akhmed. I represent Rish Min Shabah. We have come to serve you.”
Extended Holiday Ch 75: Actually on Holiday Act 10
“That foundation sounds like it was made for a specific reason,” Hammer Strike replied as he stared the Horses down.
“Sultan Amir believed that he would not be able to repay you during his lifetime, but he realized there may come a time where he could repay you after his death. We are the descendants of a line of warriors who are purposed with lending you our aid in times of need. We have heard of the recent attack on your palace, and so we arrive to serve your whim,” the stallion said. “The men were not prepared to enter without your express permission. I alone came to deliver our message and await your leave.”
“You’re free to enter and leave as you please, but be warned, you may have to share rooms until further barracks are finished depending on how many of you there are.”
The stallion looked back and shouted something in his native tongue. Quickly and orderly, more Arabian stallions began entering New Unity in a column three stallions in breadth and ten stallions in length, the third column mission one member due to Akhmed’s absence. They were all similarly dressed, though some held scimitars and others had simple longbows. One or two even carried halberds on their backs. Each bowed his head before crossing Hammer Strike’s path and speaking something in their native tongue. They maintained their military bearing as they turned as one, transforming their columns to three rows by ten columns before halting and awaiting inspection.
Hammer Strike nodded to the troops. “Impressive. Though, it’s been so long since I had a chance to speak your language that I need to refresh myself. Akhmed, you’ll be in command and are to translate to me until I refresh myself, understood?”
Pensword walked into the courtyard nervously, then trotted up to Hammer Strike and whispered into his ear. “Moon River is loose, and she has a crossbow with her.” He flicked his ears and turned his head to face the new soldiers, then turned back to Hammer Strike. “Are you trying to give me a migraine? I have to incorporate battle traditions of Saddle Arabians now, too?” he hissed. “It is a pain just trying to mesh Gryphons with Ponies.”
“Pensword, they are my troops, meaning they aren’t in your chain of command, and you don’t have to worry about them.”
“Good.” Pensword sighed wearily. “Just warn them about my daughter; she is armed now. She will not respect differing branches. I worry she is going to recruit the other foals in New Unity.”
“Greetings, Commander of Equestria,” Akhmed said, bowing his head respectfully. “I am Akhmed.”
Pensword was a little surprised to be addressed. “Greetings, Akhmed. I am just informing Lord Hammer Strike that my daughter is currently out and about, and-” he was stopped as they heard a high toned chitter ring through the air while little suction cup bolts landed on both armor and ground. “-That might happen. I want to make sure that no harm comes of her play, so please come to me if it gets to be too much.” He looked up and froze before sighing heavily. “And I will talk to the other two Thestral foals who have joined in.” ‘Poor Fizzpot,’ he thought to himself.
“Children are a blessing.” Akhmed smiled at him. “She will be a strong hunter; I am sure of this”
“That they are, and they make sure to keep the warrior agile, even when they are not hunting or battling,” Pensword replied with a small chuckle.
“Well then, my lord, if it pleases you, we will make our camp outside the walls,” Akhmed said. “We have traveled far, and so we are fortunately stocked with very good tents.”
Pensword took this as his cue to leave the group and the courtyard. He needed to find some parents to inform them of what was happening.
“We should have an area cleared where you can place your tents until the barracks are finished,” Hammer Strike replied.
“Thank you, my lord.” Akhmed bowed again before he spoke to his stallions and they proceeded to leave.
“Alright,” Hammer Strike said as he turned once again towards the Gantrithor. “Back to work.”
At precisely 5:45pm on that day, Hammer Strike, Grif, and Pensword each received a royal scroll by dragon fire. They were all identical and read as follows:
‘Hear ye hear ye …. really? We still do that, Celestia? Isn’t that a bit archaic? Wait, what? No, you shouldn’t have been writing this down! Just restart!
Hear ye, hear ye, be it known that on this day, we, the royalty of the Solar and Lunar courts are in agreement that the fortress of New Unity shall be granted leave to all troops to seek a well deserved respite… Okay, this is enough, you had me learn to speak in the modern tongue for so long that I’m finding this tedious.
Teacher, Commander, Grif, Celestia and I have decided that after the long exertions you all have gone through, everyone in Unity could use a little vacation. The guard are being given leave to go home and visit friends and family, and you three are to gather your families and Conor and be at the train station in one week to go on vacation to the Crystal Empire. This journey is mandatory.
Instructed by princess Luna Galaxia in agreement with Celestia Galaxia, transcribed by Black Quill, royal transcriber of Canterlot Castle.
P.S. Mandatory means you, Hammer Strike!’
Hammer Strike frowned as a debate went on in his mind on whether to go or not.
“Well, I guess that's a thing now,” Grif said to himself as he set the letter down. Getting up from his desk, he went to find Conor.
Pensword looked up from his seat at the table as Lunar Fang stared back at him. “Well, looks like we get to go the Crystal Empire, and I really hope no time travel is involved this time.” The he stood. “Right, I better find Conor.” He bid his wife farewell with a kiss, then exited his room. His first guess was to check the human’s quarters.
Conor sat at his desk as he continued to work on reading the new spellbook Twilight and Clover had assigned him. “So that word is Eternium, right?” he asked.
“Uhuh,” Twilight said, “That’s right. That’s perfectly right.” Her eyes darted left and right as she looked nervously around the room.
“Uh, Twilight, are you okay?”
“Okay? Of course I’m okay. Why wouldn’t I be okay? Everything’s great. It’s not like I made a pinkie promise and I’m trying not to break it or anything,” she said, chuckling nervously.
“Twilight, this is hard for me to say, but you’re an even worse liar than Applejack, and that’s saying something.”
Twilight deflated. “... Was I really that obvious?”
“It’s not a bad thing, Twilight. But if you have a secret you need to keep, just relax and tell me you can’t tell me. I’m not going to egg you on about it.”
“Thanks for understanding, Conor.”
“My pleasure, Twilight. So, should we get back to work?”
A loud knock sounded on Conor’s door. “Conor, you in?” Grif’s deeper voice called through the wood.
“Yeah, I’m here. It’s open,” Conor said by way of invitation.
Grif opened the door and gave Twilight a measured glance before turning to Conor. “Start packing. It seems we have been forcibly sent on vacation.”
“Where to?” Conor asked. Twilight looked like she was about to explode as she bit her lower lip and vibrated in place.
“We are going to the Crystal Empire, Conor,” Pensword chirped happily as he flew in behind Grif, alighting in front of his friend. “I wonder how the place looks after almost a year.”
Twilight flew into the air, nearly hitting the ceiling in her joy. “Finally!”
“... I take it you were sworn not to tell me about this little trip until my friends could?”
“Yup.” Twilight grinned. “And the best part is, the girls and I are all coming, too for the Princess Summit next week!” She squealed happily. We’ll be coming on a different train since we all still have some royal duties to take care of. That and I’m waiting on Celestia to tell me my part in the summit. Oooh, I hope I get to meet some delegates, it’d be so exciting to test my knowledge on cultural greetings. And on top of that, I get to see Cadence and Shining! I’m so excited! Especially since we don’t have to worry about some massive hostile takeover this time by some evil pony with grand delusions of power and rule to worry about. I just can’t wait!”
Pensword flew into the air to join her, his grin just as wide. “I know. That means I can see how the empire acts while lax, and not in danger. Also, I can actually do a working holiday, and… I can formulate a proper means of handling Moon River’s unit.” Did he sound proud or perturbed about that? Conor couldn’t tell for sure.
“Moon River has a unit?” Conor asked, surprised.
“It will be nice to just do some regular family stuff for once,” Grif noted. “Wonder what they plan for Hammer Strike.”
“Yes,” Pensword answered Conor. “Don’t human children form packs at a young age?” He looked down at Conor from the air with a confused cock of the head. “She is the daughter of a chieftain and of a High Duke; of course she has a unit. How do you expect her to lead if she is not learning already?”
“I’m just surprised is all. Guess she decided to leave me alone since I’m working so hard. That was nice of her.” Conor smiled just as a skilled dart flew through his window and smacked him square on the back of his neck. “... I spoke too soon.”
Pensword crowed with pride. “That was awesome! Also, Conor, stop inviting Discord’s Spirit into the equation.”
“She’s becoming quite the sharpshooter.” Grif laughed.
“Speaking of Discord, when am I going to be allowed to see him again anyways? There are some things he and I need to sort out before we go home, well, to the other home I mean.”
“I hope you enjoyed your time with us,” Grif told him. “Man I’m going to miss you.”
“You guys’ll be able to visit though, right?”
Grif and Pensword shared an uncomfortable glance before Grif spoke. “Not often, and not for long periods of time.”
“If I can even visit,” Pensword said dubiously. “That would be akin to getting a visit from General Eisenhower. If I did visit, it would be short, and I do have to build a military here.” He sighed. “It would be fun to visit you, but I have a life here, a career that literally is a one in a billion chance, so yeah…” he looked from Grif to Conor. “It won’t be much longer, then. Maybe a week or two at most.”
“I guess I should be grateful,” Conor said. “I got to see you guys one last time, get in shape, and I didn’t have to see much combat while I was here.” He sighed. “I’m going to miss this place, though, and you guys most of all.”
They waited in silence for a moment before Grif finally spoke up. “Whelp, I should start getting the cellars moved around. We might as well open the taps for the troops before we go on leave, let them have some fun.”
“Better write the orders and let loose the war wolves upon the mead,” Pensword muttered. “Conor… you’d better develop a strong stomach and ears, because I doubt you will like the jokes, comments, and whatever else will come about from this party.”
“Later, guys.” Grif waved as he left the room, heading for the cellars.
Pensword gave Grif a mock salute before turning to face Conor. “You take care, and if you want, I can make this wing off limits to party goers to give you a little bastion. Just do not go off exploring and expect everypony to treat your ears kindly. At least you won’t, or shouldn’t, hear what I was called during the war.”
“Bad?”
“Yep,” Pensword chirped before leaving Conor with Twilight.
Twilight looked to Conor. “Well, how about we get back to your Equestrian lessons, huh?” she asked with a strained smile.
Conor sighed and gave a sad smile in return. “Sure, Twilight. Sure.”
“Boy, ya’ll sure needed a lot of cider real quickly,” Applejack said, wiping sweat from her brow as she, Big Mac, and Grif finished stacking the pile of casks full of Sweet Apple Acres cider.
“You managed to do what we discussed?” Grif asked her casually.
Applejack said nothing, but nodded as she lowered the tip of her hat slightly. Half the casks had been watered down for when the guards seemed to be going a little too hard on the stuff. Grif passed AJ a large sack of bits.
Grif turned to Big Macintosh. “So, where have you been hiding my sister and her brother? I haven’t seen them since we got back and everybody says they were last seen in your company.”
Big Mac blushed. “Eeyup.”
“Mac, I’ve been very patient with you courting Little Willow. Now I need a straight answer.”
Big Mac motioned with a jerk of his head toward the shadow of the barn doors and plodded in that direction. Grif followed, quietly waiting to see what was happening.
“I uh … that is, I wanted to ask you somethin’, Grif, you bein’ the eldest brother n’ all.”
“Then think it through and stop stuttering,” Grif told him. “Chin up, chest puffed out. You aren't my underling or inferior to me, so say what you're going to say with some pride, colt.”
Big Mac took a deep breath. “I wanna marry Little Willow,” he said, “and I’d like to ask your permission.”
“Big Macintosh Apple, current heir to the line of Apples sired by Apple Core, an honorable stallion. I knew him pretty well, you know. He loved his mate with a firey passion few stallions have ever properly understood; however, I need to ask, Mac, are you prepared for Willow?”
“Ready as I’ll ever be, I reckon,” Big Mac replied. “Tall Oak’s already agreed after a little work. He challenged me to an applebuckin’ contest. Now he’s recoverin’ at Ponyville Hospital. Little Willow’s with him. Probably scoldin’ him like always.” Big Mac broke into a goofy grin. “She doesn’t know yet. I wanted to do things proper.”
“You have a symbol?” Grif asked him.
“Eeyup.” Big Mac nodded, pulling out a tiny cloth-wrapped bundle tied off with a string. Sprouting from the top, a tiny green shoot caught the sun’s light, swaying in the breeze. “It’s a hybrid,” he said, blushing. “Part willow, part apple.”
“It’s a beautiful sentiment.” Grif smiled as he clasped Mac’s shoulder. “Big Macintosh Apple, you are strong, brave, and despite how you’d like others to see you, you are intelligent, but it is your humility that will always gain my respect. It would be my honor to call you brother, and I know you will make my sister very happy.” He tightened his grip slightly. “And should my judgement of you fall short, I will peel and core you like the apples you love so much, and unlike my brother, I can back that up. Understood?”
Big Mac nodded, and much to his credit, did not show any signs of hesitation or fear. “Eeeyup.” He gently returned the plant to its hiding place in his saddlebag before extending a hoof.
Grif took it in his talons and squeezed gently. “Go on, then, and start planning for this. I can’t wait to hear from Willow that you popped the question.”
“Yes, sir,” Big Mac said, saluting before he reared and galloped off.
“Winds speed, Mac.” Grif chuckled as he turned to the cider cart. “Winds speed.”
Pensword stood sweating in Hammer Strike’s forge, watching the smith. “So, just to let you know, we are going to have a large party before we all go on royal leave. That means we are opening up the stores for one night.”
“Alright,” Hammer Strike replied, striking the material once more.
“Just…. let them have their fun and let them have their drinking contests.”
“It’s alright. I know what’s going to happen.” Hammer Strike continued his work.
“Good. Have fun, and I will be coming back to drag you onto the train. I heard Shining is going to open the crystalforge up for you to do anything you want.”
“Tempting,” he replied.
“Thank you,” Pensword answered, smiling proudly. “I am going to help with the kitchen and food.”
“Alright. Plan for keeping the Demos away from the kegs?”
Pensword laughed. “I plan on having them get access to the secondary cellar.” He smirked. “I also told them that if they let the others drink first, they would get to finish up all the leftover kegs, meaning they get more booze if they wait in the secondary Cellar, where all the real drink is located.”
“We’ll see how that goes.” Hammer Strike gave a faint chuckle.
Pensword paused as he finally saw what Hammer Strike was working on. “Is that for Moon River?” He asked before frowning. “Please tell me that is all you are making, because she is not ready for weapons training.”
“We’ll see how I feel about it.” Hammer Strike gave a small grin. “Might be just this.”
“She will grow. This will become a small dagger for her, but at the moment, is it going to be a short sword?”
“Seems about right.”
Pensword nodded. “Sounds good. When shall the dagger be ready?”
“Ten minutes at longest.”
“Then the ceremony will be tomorrow night.”
“Alright.”
“I expect you there in full battle rattle,” Pensword said as he studied the future dagger. He felt a chill just by looking at it.
“So, some plates of armor over my coat.”
“Sure,” Pensword responded with a laugh.
“To be fair, full battle gear makes me a bit too tall for an event like this.”
“This ceremony is outside,” Pensword countered.
“You want me to stand twice the size of Macintosh?” Hammer Strike grinned. “I’ll wear it if you want.”
“You are Hammer Strike, Celestia’s Ghost. I want Moon River to see your form and see it as safety, as home. It also would be an insult not to come in your best to the family who is honoring their foal’s first battle.”
“Alright, I’ll bring it out and make sure I bring my best weapon set.” Hammer gave a light-hearted sigh. “Just got to make sure I don’t kick someone by accident ... and duck through door frames.”
“We will give you a wide berth. Besides, most of us will be flying.”
“Ground-bound I shall be, like usual.”
“I am sure we can find something out.” Pensword chuckled. “At least get you a military recon balloon.”
“I’m fine on the ground.” Hammer Strike shook his head. “I’ll be fine.”
“Okay,” Pensword responded. “Well, I need to be getting some other things ready for tonight's party. See you around.”
“See you.”
The courtyard was abuzz with activity as all the troops crowded the area, talking amongst themselves cheerily. A small wooden stage had been set up alongside a dozen tents, each holding the preparations for that evening. With a nod, Thundercolt lifted a trumpet to his muzzle and blew a few notes, grabbing the crowd’s attention as Hammer Strike, followed by Blast and Tower Shield, walked onto the stage. Pensword and Grif landed behind them moments later and a smooth, disciplined silence overtook the group.
Pensword stepped forward, dressed in a simple dress uniform with hints of armor underneath the cloth. His ribbons, medals, and three commemorative sashes hung from his body. The soldiers stared in awe. This was the first time their commander had ever worn all the emblems of his station at once.
“I, Commander Pensword of the ancient Equestrian Armed Forces, and currently of the Demon Slayers, do hereby relate orders from the Princesses. All armed forces stationed in New Unity are hereby given two weeks leave starting at sundown tonight. As such, I am hereby implementing an old military tradition. The stores are to be opened, the kegs tapped, and you all will enjoy the night doing whatever you wish. Just keep it within reason, even though I know you won’t,” he said, chuckling. “Make sure to get it all out of your system so you do not become a scourge upon whatever town you descend upon. Also, as per tradition, I shall be taking the first drink.” He did his best to hide his true feelings. Like it or not, tradition had to be followed. “Also, to any civilian contractor who is present, so help me, if you complain about the food for the Gryphons and Thestrals, I am sending you to finish your contract with Princess Luna.” The soldiers burst out laughing.
Pensword nodded to his left, where Fox Feather stepped forward and proffered a goblet. He picked it up, happy to see only a small portion of liquid in it. He ignored Matthew’s complaints and knocked it back in one go to the cheers of the troops. When he had finished, he returned to observing them. “Dismissed. And I don’t want to see any of you for two weeks on base.”
“Now for you Bladefeathers out there, I know this may seem a bit confusing, as this is our home now, so I’m giving a hundred bits to each of you to use for a trip to anywhere in Equestria. Have a vacation on Hammer Strike!” Grif shouted, downing his own glass in a quick flourish with his head back so the troops couldn’t see his distaste.
After the Bladefathers toasted their clan leader in turn, the five leaders stepped off the stage and let the troops get to their activities. Grif made his way to the gwarkala to wash the taste of alcohol out of his mouth.
Pensword followed his friend’s example. “I never cared for that drink,” he whispered. “I hope I won’t have to drink any more tonight … even though I know Blue Flame will try to get me to drink some concoction or another he’s been brewing behind our tails.”
“If they like it, fine.” Grif shrugged. “I’ve just never liked the taste of alcohol.”
“Hey, guys. One heck of a party, isn’t it?” Conor asked as he waded through the crowd of ponies to the table. He looked casually around as a certain blue pegasus with a red mane and tail began passing around shot glasses filled with a clear liquid. The ponies who tried it were soon coughing up a storm as they failed to take the sheer power of the raw liquor they’d just drunk.
“Care for some?” Grif offered Conor a tankard of gwarkala.
“Is it tangy?”
“We had it the other night at dinner,” Grif reminded him. “It’s sweet with an icy aftertaste”
“Oh, that stuff.” Conor smiled as he accepted the cup and began to drink. “You know, I really think I’m going to miss this place. Not only is their food amazing, but I actually feel healthy here. I haven’t had a gag reflex in weeks.”
“Yeah we all noticed that when we were here a few weeks.” Grif nodded. “Maybe you’ll write a book?”
“If you do, I will definitely buy it and read it.” Pensword chuckled as he moved to an empty table and sat down, content to watch the ebb and flow of the party as more and more Ponies began to get rowdy with the other soldiers and mercenaries. A moment later, Lightning Dust appeared with a dish of food. Pensword frowned. “If the troops told you to do it, you were being hazed.”
“Don’t care,” she responded as she put the food down. “If this is what I need to do to get accepted after my faults, so be it.” She cracked a smile. “However, that Gryphon that told me to do this might just find some hot sauce in his tankard.”
“Good. Just be sure you have some Demon Slayers with you to back you up,” Pensword replied. “He might take offense at the hot sauce. Or he might like it.”
“Well, if Gilda’s reaction is anything to go by, Pensword, I’d guess hot sauce isn’t exactly well known in Gryphonia,” Conor interjected.
“It’s not common, no, but spicy isn’t exactly a popular flavor choice,” a familiar voice spoke. Gilda stood not far off from Lighting Dust with Trixie beside her. “Maybe you should stay with us for now.”
Lighting Dust nodded, pausing mid-step as Pensword coughed.
“Also, the princesses’ orders supersede mine. That means you get leave as well. Go see home, tell your parents that you are being trained and your rough edges polished under a war hero.”
Again, Lightning Dust nodded her head before joining the other two at their table.
Pensword leaned over to Grif. “The reformation table,” he whispered in Draconic.
“Who’d have thought those three would be friends?” Grif responded.
“Hey, trust me, when you’re trying to make up for a mistake after it’s all over, you see things alot differently.” Conor looked to the trio’s table. “After all, it’s part of how I became the guy you know today. If a person is willing to change, they deserve the second chance, and anyone else who’s been there should be obligated to help them out of a moral sense of duty, you know? ‘Cause we’ve been there, too.”
A couple hours later, the festivities were still going on, the food was almost entirely gone, and a major chunk of the alcohol had vanished. Many of the troops were passed out and some of those that remained conscious were not in their best mind. Grif and Conor sat not far off from where Kahn was attempting to woo a bush of wild roses, trying their hardest not to laugh.
“Please, mademoiselle, someone as fair as you cannot turn me down. For I fear if you do, I will be dead by morning. Come. Come with me and we shall show the world just what true beauty is, mon cheri.” He attempted to kiss one of the roses only to get stuck by one of the thorns. “Oh, why must you scorn me so?”
““You think we should tell him?” Conor asked, barely suppressing the fit of laughter that was begging to come out.
“You think he’s in any state to listen to us?” Grif said, trying desperately to hold himself back.
Pensword watched from another table without much reaction, though a tug of a smile pulled at the corners of his lips. He shook his head in humourous disbelief. Kahn’s actions seemed so tame compared to some of the things he had seen in the old days. Not far off, Clover sat at a table, casually drinking from a tankard of cider. Several stallions, including both of the Heavies, lay unconscious on the other side of the table, having learned why one should never underestimate a mare who grew up in the pre-unification era.
Fox Feather sat at one of the tables, several tankards around her as she woozily surveyed the area. Her eyes happened to catch onto Lunar Fang approaching Pensword with Moon River in her regular sack carrier. The tired foal yawned in an adorable fashion as she snuggled her crossbow. Something fired in the pegasus mare as she slammed her tankard on the table and got to her feet.
“I think it’s time somepony got herself to sleep,” Lunar Fang said to her husband, gesturing to their daughter.
“I agree. But did she have fun?” Pensword asked. “Please tell me that you took her darts away. I do not want to be fishing darts out of tankards or worse, learn one of our troops ate one.”
“I hid the ones I could find. I think she’s actually been creating strategic cache’s -”
“PERMISSION TO SPEAK FREELY, SIR?” Fox Feather shouted as she wobbled towards them.
Pensword blinked in confusion and shook at the tone and loudness. He had a flashback to a sober, but loud human friend back on Matthew’s world. “Granted? Just please tone it down for Moon River’s sake.”
“Sir, I’ve been serving with you for…” Fox Feather got lost for a moment before attempting to count on her hooves.
“Let’s just leave it at a very long time, as it will vary depending on whom you ask that question to,” Pensword answered softly.
“Either way, I’ve been serving with you for a really long time, and in all that time, I’ve always been helping you. Of course, you probably don’t remember. In the academy, you spent all your time with Apple Core, and I never blamed you for that. You never gave up when they threw it all against you, and I respected that. I admired that!” she said as she swayed a little on her hooves. “Then there was the tests. You knew all our skills, all our strengths. You had such passion in command. That’s when I loved you,” she finally said outright, not seeming to even register the gravity of her words. “I was going to tell you at graduation; I had it all worked out, but I hesitated, and then your village happened, and then her,” she said, gesturing to Lunar Fang. Her voice carried no malice, surprisingly, only cold regret. “You were taken the moment you met her, but with everything that's happened, I just want to let you know-” with a sudden movement, she pulled Pensword’s muzzle into hers for a somewhat sloppy, but passionate kiss before pulling back. “I still love you, sir.” And with that, she took to the air and rather lopsidedly flew away as tears dropped onto the comatose guards she passed over.
Pensword stood there, dumbstruck, and doing a fine impression of a cockatrice victim. His mind replayed over the past, showing every moment with Fox Feather. All at once, every little motion, each comment, held far more weight thanks to this new lens Fox Feather’s confession had given him. He did not know what to say or do. Lunar Fang could see her husband doing a brain reboot and had a gut feel who had caused the crash. That one never had a fur coat.
“You have a drunk, distressed mare out there FLYING! Go after her, feather brain!” Lunar Fang said, whacking him with her wing. “She could seriously injure herself.”
“...Whoa?” Grif looked to Conor, his mouth still open and eyes wide in shock.
“... I know this kind of stuff happens in books and all, but wow,” Conor said, also dumbfounded.
Pensword ignored the comments after being hit by his wife's wings. Moments later he was in the air chasing after Fox Feather, hoping to Faust that she wouldn’t crash. He looked up and fervently thanked Faust it wasn’t raining. After fifteen minutes of intense reconnaissance, he found the Pegasus sound asleep on a medium-sized nimbus cloud.
Pensword looked around cautiously. In the Everfree’s sky, anything could happen. So, being the gentle stallion he was, he found another nimbus cloud, pushed it over to Fox Feather and settled in to watch over the mare, giving him time to think, as well as to argue with Matthew.
Back at the courtyard, Lunar Fang, Conor, and Taze were still scanning the skies, even though Pensword was far out of sight. Finally, Lunar Fang lowered her eyes, a grin on her muzzle.
“Well, on the one talon, at least the cat’s finally out of the bag. On the other talon, dramatic reveal is dramatic,” Grif said.
“No kidding,” Conor said. “Does everything here have to come out like a fantasy novel? Because I swear, this is a textbook fantasy plotline.”
“I know,” Lunar Fang replied dreamily. “To think, a future wife friend was a fellow cadet that grew up and trained with him.” She giggled. “Now his line will be secured.”
“Well, at least you won’t be trying to kill her.” Grif laughed. “You going to be okay, Lunar Fang? I mean, this is kinda big.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold up. You’re telling me that ponies here in Equestria have multiple wives, too?” Conor said, his eyes wide.
“It’s not as widely practiced as with Gryphons, Conor, but it does happen,” Grif commented. “Usually tribes have some sort of requirement to be met. Thestrals value warrior bloodlines, I believe?” Grif asked as he looked to Lunar Fang.
“Correct,” Lunar Fang responded. “If this hadn’t happened, I would have talked to him and pretty much told him to take another mate. I won’t risk my line being his only legacy. If my line dies out in the future, then his proud blood and history ends with them. With Fox Feather, now the Pegasi can have their warrior leader as well, and so, too, the Thestral.”
“And if Pensword isn’t comfortable with it?” Conor asked.
Lunar Fang gave Conor a blank look. “Pensword grew up in Pony culture. He knows the traditions of Thestral great leaders, as well as the fact that even Commander Hurricane had four mares. I think you are thinking of his other part,” she said, giggling. “There he was, asking me questions on culture and history, and now here he is, living it for himself.”
“The question still stands, but I guess we’ll have to leave that up to Pensword to decide for himself anyways.” Conor sighed. “So, should we all head to bed? It is getting pretty late. Besides, I have something I’ve been meaning to ask Clover about anyways.”
“You guys head in,” Grif said as he pulled out a black piece of charcoal. “I’ve got some stuff to finish up yet.” He grinned evilly towards the unconscious Ponies and Gryphons all over the courtyard.
“Very well,” Lunar Fang responded with a giggle. “I want pictures.” She looked down at the now sleeping Moon River. “I need to tuck you in.” She took to the air and headed for her quarters.
Conor just sighed and chuckled before making his way to where Clover sat, watching Grif as he began to run over each of the unconscious Guards’ faces with the charcoal in a way that reminded Conor of a certain pink singing puffball with a green capped permanent marker for a microphone.
Fox Feather woke to a pounding, throbbing headache. She was instantly aware of the cloud under her body, but didn’t know what that meant. The previous night was a painful blur at best. As she slowly opened her eyes, the bright light of day hit her like a solid wall of throbbing that had been beamed directly to her brain through her retinas.
“Easy, Fox,” Pensword said, using her nickname from their time as cadets. “You want a cloud roof to help with the sun?” he asked, his voice tinged with worry.
“I’ll survive, sir,” she said, rubbing her head. “What happened last night?”
“You drank a lot, more than I have ever seen you down before, and confessed your love and affection to me and my wife before flying off in a drunken stupor.” She couldn’t say for sure, but Fox Feather thought she could hear a frown in his voice. “I thought you knew better,” Pensword said.
Fox Feather’s face turned a deep shade of crimson. “Celestia dammit. I am so sorry, sir. That was wrong. Please don’t dismiss me, sir,” she said, panicking.
“Dismiss you? If anything, you are lucky I am not writing you up. I don’t care that we are a military base; you should know better than to fly drunk. What if you ran into a tree, or flew up till you froze your wings, or crashed into the ground at full speed? That Was a very risky, and incredibly stupid move. I have half a mind to write you up and put you on a week’s probation for it.”
“... Say what?” Fox Feather asked, obviously very confused.
“You flew easily fifteen minutes into the Everfree Forest. We are above a section of the forest that is as dense as a jungle down there. You missed three trees by a hoof’s inch. I am not going to have a funeral. Do you remember rule number two about these celebrations?” He did not let her answer. “‘Any soldier who participates is grounded on base till they sober up.’” She could hear the disappointment. “That means I have to deal with you, so you stay on the cloud. I am taking you back to my place so the XO can also ream you out for your foolishness.”
Fox Feather was stunned, unable to answer as somewhere deep inside, a bit of her spirit started to break. Somehow, having him not know seemed to be better then having him ignore her, and she could already feel her emotions sinking.
“Now, do not go mooping about. I do not want this cloud turning dark. You said something. You were present, and you know I am part Thestral. That means you get some Thestral culture. I am not going to mention what you said last night, but you did say it in front of my wife. That means she gets to talk to you as well.” Did she catch the smallest hint of a chuckle? Fox feather said nothing for a long time, unsure of how to take his words. She waited for instruction.
Eventually, Fox Feather felt a presence next to her as a leathery wing lay over her back and a small giggle broke through her misery. “So, did you mean what you said back there, or was that the drink talking?” Lunar Fang was close enough that Fox Feather could smell her breath. The pleasant scent of mango made her stomach growl. “Well, don’t just sit there like a filly being asked out to the gala; speak up.” Lunar Fang giggled again.
“... Every word, Ma’am,” Fox Feather finally admitted. “He was always so strong, not just for himself, but for all of us they had labeled as failures. He would always walk past us in the morning and tell us to hang in there. Always had a hoof on my back when he got to me. I wouldn’t have made it anywhere without him.”
She heard the sound of wingbeats as she felt the draft from Lunar Fang’s takeoff, followed immediately by the sound of a very loud wing smak. “And you didn’t take her as a war bride as your right?” Lunar Fang exclaimed angrily. “Honestly, if you’re going to be a chief of a Theatral clan, you need a wife who would be with you on the battlefield.” She sighed in exasperation. “How in the name of Tartarus could you have been so blind to her?” She snorted. “Well, I know the perfect punishment for the lieutenant.” Lunar Fang turned and lowered herself until she hovered in front of the Pegasus. “You’re going to get a special treat, Fox Feather. You get to go on a train ride with us. Neither of us are going to let you out of our sights, seeing as the last time we did, you flew drunk into the Everfree.” She snorted again. “This is also so I can teach Mr. Hopeless up there how to actually court a Mare.”
“Yo-you’re not sending me away?” Fox Feather’s head immediately shot up from the cloud. She squinted in pain as the light of the sun burned into her eyes yet again.
“I can’t exactly hold it against you.” Lunar Fang laughed, looking to her husband. “As hopelessly oblivious as he can be, he really has a way of grasping your heart.”
“I wish to point out that I am only oblivious when it comes to mares,” he answered, putting his wings up in mock horror. “Still, I am sorry.” He grimaced. “I do not care if humans only have one wife. I am a stallion and a Pony.”
Fox feather blinked in surprise, then felt the moisture as it pooled around her eyes. She sobbed gently as she threw her hooves around Lunar Fang. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”
“You are very welcome,” Lunar Fang answered. “Just be warned, we are heading to the Crystal Empire. Now… I hereby invite you into our home for breakfast, where I will be able to explain just how this is going to proceed.”
“I’d like that,” Fox Feather said as the three ponies took to the air towards New Unity, Lunar Fang supporting the Pegasus while Pensword flew to their right. He daren’t touch Fox Feather while his wife gave him the eye.
“Using a crystal focus of a specific element, we could use the energy from the core to recreate the elemental force, thus giving us an output for at least a shard of energy per set apparatus,” Hammer Strike explained, gesturing toward the drawn papers on the desk in front of Circlet and himself. “Thankfully, we can do this due to the energy from the core being unshaped, essentially a raw power.”
“I’m still uncertain about this particular branch of magic you're using for your calculations. Doesn’t the philosopher's stone produce simple magical energy?” Circlet asked as she looked through the papers, the red lines on her hooves pulsing with the magical energy from her soul.
“Raw energy, unshaped by the ways of magic. Thus, you have the foundation of equivalent exchange. To take raw energy and change it to another, lead to gold; or in this case, air to fire, etcetera.”
“Wouldn’t the energy remaining unaligned be better for powering the ship?”
“Certainly is. When you are free to shape it how you please, you can get plenty of interesting outcomes from it.”
“And yet you want to shape the energy coming from the core into an elemental affinity? I’m afraid I may be missing something with your logic. Magic isn’t really my field.”
“Do you understand frequencies?”
“Yes.” Caring circlet nodded.
“Take the raw energy coming from the core as a flat line. Each elemental affinity can be achieved by adjusting the frequency with fine tuning and a proper focus.” He reached into his coat and pulled out a red crystal. “An example of a focus would be fire.” He gave a grin as he moved towards the core, crystal in hoof. “Second example, frequency shaping,” he finished, moving the crystal towards the outer layer of the core. Upon contact with the outer layer, fire burst from the point it touched until he removed it.
“That’s incredible!” Caring Circlet said. “So you can change the very nature of the magic without needing runic formulas!”
Hammer Strike grinned. “Why make it needlessly complicated shaping it slowly when you can set a mold and fill it?”
“If you do it this way, you’ll need to do something about these runes,” Circlet said, gesturing to the red glowing rune patterns channeling the core’s energy. “There is no way the Gryphon runes will be able to transfer that kind of power.”
“Use these crystals as relays.” He gestured with the red gem in his hoof. “Different one, of course, not a fire based one.”
“You're talking about wireless power transfer,” she said in awe, “taking away the strain of needing runes with more direct connections.”
“A new field of magic you get to learn about. Exciting, eh?” Hammer gave a small chuckle. “I could focus the energy through shards of order, most likely.”
“It’s too bad, really,” Circlet noted. “The core could power a ship a hundred times this size, but it would never survive within the atmosphere.”
“Give it a while, years to come up with either the tech or magic necessary to create a survivable atmosphere surrounding the ship and deal with the motion controls when inertia stops being a common function.”
“So, have you decided on what you’ll modify first?” she asked.
“Engines.” His grin grew. “I want to make this thing soar.”
The golem smirked as best as its artificial mouth could. “Well then, we’d best get started.”
Vital Spark smiled as he clip clopped up the steps from the ravine. Since he was going to be heading off to the Crystal empire, he figured it wouldn’t hurt to give Harmony another dose of his magic before they left. His body felt like lead, but it was worth it to help her feel a little better. The familiar weight of his focus on his back also made him happy as he looked back to the pearl mounted to its housing. “That ought to hold her till we get back,” he said.
“Good, it could be a while before we do,” a familiar voice noted from the top of the staircase.
“Grif! I thought you said you weren’t going to follow me,” Vital said accusingly.
“I also said this shouldn’t be a regular thing. Also, when Espio and Camo come back claiming they randomly lost you, it raises some questions. You’re lucky Hammer Strike isn’t here right now,” Grif noted.
“First of all, that’s bull. You never said anything about this not becoming a regular thing. You said as long as it doesn’t interfere with training. Secondly, if Hammer Strike were here, I’d tell him he needs to not say anything, just like I’m telling you.”
“From now on, when you come out here, you're taking a guard as far as this. Fluffy isn’t the only manticore in the Everfree, and they will come out this far.”
“Grif, that puts my promise in danger,” Vital said.
“And you coming out here puts you in danger,” Grif said.
“No, it doesn’t. I have someone else looking out for me.”
Grif sunk his face into his talons and groaned. “Look, I won’t say anything if Hamer Strike doesn’t bring it up, but when he does, and he most assuredly will, I can’t hold it back from him.”
“That’s all I ask. My friend says she can’t let Hammer Strike know about her yet, but he will soon enough.”
“Yeah, and then we’ll both be getting the raised eyebrow of disappointment.”
“My hooves are tied, and so are my hands. She’s the one who gave me the crystal in the first place when we saved Shawn. I owe her.”
“Yeah, whatever,” Grif said. “We should go before Hammer Strike comes looking for us.”
“Good idea. And Pensword’s expecting us for the ceremony tonight, too.” With that said, Vital Spark made his way up to his friend’s side and the pair walked back to the castle road in silence.
The ceremony for Moon River was being finalized within the Thestral Camp in a large open field with the stars and moon rising above the horizon. Tables were placed about in a great horseshoe shape with a long table at the head where Pensword, Moon River, Lunar Fang, Fox Feather, Grif, and Hammer Strike would be able to sit. Hammer Strike had indeed come in his juggernaut armor, raising more than a few eyebrows from the Thestrals gathered and getting several respectful nods. One thing that Vital could see from the side tables was that every single Thestral and guest was armed and armored. His focus staff leaned at his side within easy reach. As an added show of respect, he appeared in his training armor, the leather having recently been oiled, and the studs polished to a shine.
Pensword stood up. “As there are those not of our heritage within our midst who have proven to have the heart of our kind, I should explain why we are armed. At a ceremony like this, we are armed due to the fact that either the olden tribes or enemies of our clans would attack to remove those who are to be future warriors. We are armed to defend our warriors and to also welcome them into our midst as fighters and warriors of the night.” He inclined his head to where a light beamed down to reveal Moon River, not even a year old, wearing armor, and looking so cute in her toughness that she could weaponize the d’aww.
“As the father, it is tradition for me to speak.” He looked to Moon River with a smile and love in his eyes. “However, I cannot say much, as she is still so young. Yet despite her age, she took down a foe that would have used her and her friends as a means to try and gain leverage against us. There she was, not even able to crawl, yet she somehow was able to break a Changeling’s horn and immobilize said Changeling with said horn.” He smiled and pulled something from his pouch. “For this, she is to become the High Duke of Ys’s first warrior of song.” He draped a large medal around her neck. “No matter her path, she will always be given a seat at the head table.” Pensword looked to the table. “Godfather Grif, please, as a warrior, present your gift to a fellow warrior,” he said, using the formal language as ceremony and tradition demanded.
Grif rose from his seat and walked directly to Moon River. With pride, he lifted his hands towards her and presented ... a simple bow string?
Pensword waited, smirking. He knew there was more to this than meets the eye. He knew his friend too well. The other horseshoe had to drop soon.
“A crossbow is a good, sturdy weapon, but the true mark of a warrior in Gryphon culture is the bow. When you are old and strong enough, as my father did with me, I shall help you to craft a bow that you will use to shape your legacy. This is my promise to you, Goddaughter.” With some ceremony, Grif wrapped the bow string around Moon River’s hoof several times and tied it snugly. “This is my gift.”
Moon River looked at the string around her hoof and, much to the surprise of her parents, she didn’t try to remove the string. She looked to her Godfather and blew a few bubbles with foal speech. Pensword smiled and looked down to where Hammer Strike sat. “As is tradition, we Thestrals seek out a skilled smith to forge a special weapon out of a trophy from our first conquest as a warrior. I have an antler tipped spear, my mate has her weapon, and now Moon River joins with her own. Hammer Strike, he who Luna looks up to, please step forward to present to Moon River her first weapon.” He turned to those present. “It is a personal choice for each of us to use or not use our first weapon. Sometimes it is impractical. At other times it is used and becomes a famous weapon to Thestralkind.”
Hammer Strike stepped forward with a small pouch resting on back. His Juggernaut armor clanked heavily, but he had kept his helmet off for the ceremony as it would make it a little harder to hear him through a steel and gem encased helmet. He stopped just in front of Moon River so he could still see her without looking straight down. To his surprise, Moon River giggled and laughed at his appearance, showing no fear. He sat down as he grabbed the pouch off his back. “Not many get to call the horn of a Changeling their own trophy.” He gave a small grin as he opened the pouch, removing a certain dagger from both the bag and its sheath. The blade was made of a dark steel while the handle had been crafted from the Changeling horn, its tip sharpened to work for a quick strike with the end of it if necessary. He placed it back into its sheath and carefully fastened it to her back. “A dagger for later; more of a short sword for now.” He chuckled lightly.
Moon River giggled madly, reminding those present of Grif, Pensword, and even Lunar Fang when they had giggled at some plot they had planned themselves. Pensword could only beam in joy. “That’s my Moon River,” he whispered. He stood up and began walking around the tables, striking his armored hoof on metal plates that had been set before each pony during the speech.
A silver moonbeam shone on the ground nearby, a silvery flash burst from the spot, and then Luna stood in the field dressed fully in her ursa bone armor. With dignity and grace, she approached the head table. Pensword moved to stand between his daughter and the princess, his wings spread and an aggressive stance taken.“Who wishes to approach the table?” he demanded. “Identify and state your reason.” While those of Pegasus or Unicorn backgrounds gasped, the Thestrals nodded with respect and agreement. “I got a scroll stating you could not make it tonight.”
“Pensword, you know very well who I am. As high chieftess, I am not obligated to answer that question, especially in regards to that tone. Stand down.” Luna’s eyebrow twitched angrily. “One of Celestia’s seneschals had the scroll intercepted instead of forwarding it to me, and then proceeded to answer like he would for Celestia. I assure you, my High Duke, I would never miss this.”
Pensword nodded and stepped aside. The two glared at each other a moment, as tradition demanded before she passed to the head table. Having passed Pensword, Luna approached Moon River, smiling sweetly at the Thestral foal as she leaned down to nuzzle her gently. “Hello, little light,” she said. “So young, and yet so old. You’ve already made a mark in history and yet you aren't satisfied until the songs are sung about you millenias after you are gone. A new cluster of stars shine for you tonight, young one. Orion now carries a dagger on his belt. You can see the pommel and the blade if you look closely enough. Let these be a testament to you and your valor, and may your life continue to be a worthy one.”
The Thestrals all froze and looked up into the sky to the constellation, which was hovering over the meadow for all to see. Pensword didn’t need to order anything as fire pits were doused and candles snuffed. The children of the night looked and found the change to their night sky as they began to chant in the native language of the Thestrals, which sounded more like chitters and squeaks then Equestrian. Pensword bowed his head towards Luna in humility and respect. The other Thestrals would forever remember now that only the High Chieftess could approach the table without needing to answer. She had placed her authority in this one matter. Pensword folded his ears back in shame for his hasty words. Moon River, however, stared into Luna’s eyes and giggled before booping Luna’s nose with the hoof tied by the bow string. Luna could see Orion's constellation shining in her eyes.
“The hunter reflects in your eyes, young light,” she laughed. “Or maybe it is that you are so like him his spirit is within you. I expect great things from you, Moon River, and I have faith you will not disappoint.” With these words, Luna lovingly returned the boop and vanished in a flash of moonlight.
All eyes were on Pensword and Moon River as everyone waited patiently at the train station for their trip to the empire. As expected, Pensword began to smile as his eyes widened. His ears didn’t twitch this time, but that goofy grin was all the party needed to know what was coming. He smiled even wider when he watched Moon River cooing and giggling as she waved her hooves about while her father looked down at her. “You hear it? That is so cool. You really can hear that? I can’t wait till you know that is the Royal Engine that is pulling the car, a special engine pulling the train,” He said, speaking in baby talk. “And then there are the cars.” He giggled. “Why, when you are older, I bet you could ride in any spot on the train you want.”
“I cannot say enough how the fact that they can both do that creeps me out,” Grif whispered quietly to Shrial.
Grif’s first wife couldn’t help but chuckle. “She’s her father’s daughter. Just wait till you have yours,” she said, resting her hand over her much distended belly. “Then you can creep him out just as much as he does you.”
“I’ve got alot planned.” Grif smiled, wrapping one wing around Shrial and one around Avalon as he held an ice chest in his talons. “I’m going to get back to cooking again, and I have a special menu planned that you’re simply going to love.”
“Ooh, I like the sound of that,” Shrial said as she rubbed her head against Grif’s neck.
“Just as long as he doesn’t burn the kitchen down,” Avalon said, chortling. Shrial couldn’t help but snort at the joke.
“You laugh, my dear, but soon you shall eat those words.” Grif smiled. “Our first family outing that won’t end with us knee-deep in blood,” he said, chuckling. “I’m looking forward to it, though Hammer Strike doesn’t seem that excited. Then again, he could be ecstatic; you never know,” Grif said, looking to where Hammer Strike stood not far off, as impassive and expressionless as ever.
Lunar Fang was smiling while Pensword continued to talk about the train. They all could hear it faintly now, chuffing along to the station. She shook her head while a few Ponies laughed nervously at seeing the group heading out.
Hammer Strike was thinking to himself about some projects he was going to work on while in the Crystal Empire. It may have been a mandatory vacation, but he still had things to create.
Fox Feather stood apart from the group, feeling out of place amongst such close friends. The pegasus was both anxiously anticipating and dreading the next two weeks. She found Lunar Fang at her side placing a leathery wing over her back. “Welcome to the madness, sad to say, but you’ll be joining it one way or another by the time we get back.”
“You have your camera ready, Conor?” Grif called back to the human suddenly.
“You kidding me? I’ve been waiting to see the empire ever since Cosy told me about what you guys and Twilight did to protect it. It sounds amazing,” he said, patting the young colt on the head. Cosy laughed.
“Just wait until you try our crystal berries fresh. You thought that cookie was good, our chefs make the best crystal berry pie you’ve ever tasted.” He licked his lips happily. “And Cady’s gonna be so happy to meet you, too. She likes people who care.”
Conor blushed profusely. “Thanks,” he said, wringing his hands as he hunched his shoulders slightly. His simple jeans and shirt had been supplemented with heavy duty fabric on the pants and a thick hoodie with a furry lining that hung tied around his waist. His short sleeved tee had been cut to show off his muscular frame, much to his dislike. Rarity had insisted, and even gone so far as to replace his entire wardrobe one day while he was out training.
“Bellacosa, did you write that letter I requested asking about hunting in the empire?” Grif asked the colt. “Are we going to be cleared?”
“Grif, you’re a hero of the Crystal Empire. You can do practically anything you want, and nobody would even care. I still don’t get why you wanted me to make it all official,” Cosy said, sticking out his tongue at the word.
“Because you can’t please everyone, and I’d like to be able to show the one Crystal Pony who has something against me that I can legally hunt, rather than putting your sister in an awkward position. You can argue with all the fools in the world, Bellacosa.” Grif winked at him. “Better to let them think they got their way, then trick them afterwards.”
Cosy smirked. “And Scootaloo said adults didn’t know how to have fun.”
Any further conversation was cut off as the train huffed and puffed into the station, the engine a gleaming example of the wealth of Equestria from its brass fixtures to the emblems of the sun, moon, and a new addition, Twilight’s Cutie Mark: proof that she had limitless access and the privilege to use the engine any time she needed to as well. Cadence’s crystal heart still adorned the sides of the engine cab, indicating the engine was designated for Crystal Empire dignitaries if they had to use the Equestrian Rail Network, which was information none of the beings standing on the platform really needed to know, but Pensword told them anyways.
The doors to the train opened up to reveal a white unicorn stallion with a short electric blue mane with streaks of orange in it. He wore a puffy blue winter coat with a white shirt underneath. His cutie mark was a crystal with an antenna sticking out of the top. He looked around the station with tired grey eyes, but a smile on his muzzle. He settled his gaze onto the group there before finally saying something in a mellow tone. “Hey, any of you seen my niece? Bright pink, curly mane-”
“Uncle Comic!” Pinkie proceeded to step out from behind a nearby signpost, where she had been waiting.
“There you are. And here I was, wondering if I was headed to Sugarcube Corner alone.” He drew back briefly and looked into her eyes. “You sick or something, Pink?”
“No, I feel fine. Why?” she asked.
“Well, you seem to be a little horse.” He grinned a little more.
Pinkie broke into laughter almost immediately as nearby ponies groaned at the very old and incredibly overused joke. Pensword began the cackle and laugh as well, even as a look of homesickness sparked in his eyes.
“Great crowd, it seems. Didn’t know I’d get heroes in the audience,” he said, looking to the group once again. “Headed to the Empire, are you?”
“Yeah, we are,” Grif said, looking warily at the very strange Crystal Pony.
“Could you do me a favor? My brother’s been trying to get into the guard, but I think he could use a step in the right direction. And don’t worry about figuring out who it is. Trust me, he likes to stand out.”
Grif looked to Hammer Strike and Pensword questioningly.
Pensword looked to Grif. “I give no promises. I shall make my assessment when I arrive.”
Comic shrugged. “All I can ask for.”
“So, Uncle Comic, what have you been up to these days?” Pinkie asked.
“I’ve been working on plenty of jobs, though they never stick. For example, I used to be a banker, but I lost interest.” He shrugged and gave a wink.
Pinkie found herself on the ground rolling from the laughter. Pensword was leaning against the wall finding it harder and harder to breathe from his own peels of laughter cascading between Pinkie and himself.
“If he keeps this up, I’m worried Pensword will forget to take a breath in,” Hammer Strike commented to Grif.
“Well, we should get boarding. It was nice meeting you, Mister Comic,” Grif said, gesturing to Lunar Fang, who started semi-guiding, semi-dragging Pensword onboard.
Hammer Strike simply nodded to Comic, who gave a wave in return. After they all boarded the train, the doors closed and soon they started on their journey to the Crystal Empire.
“I’m surprised I didn’t get his famous eyebrow of doom,” Comic said.
Pensword looked out the window as they traveled north. “So, when do you think the first snow fields will begin to show?” he asked Fox Feather, a grin on his muzzle as he tried to strike up a conversation and pass the time.
“We’ve been traveling for a good few hours, so I imagine pretty soon,” she responded.
“Good. So, what is your favorite meal of the present day?” Pensword asked. Pensword knew what to do for such a courtship, but Matthew was still confused how a married stallion should really go about courting a second mare.
“The hay fries they make are pretty good.” She shrugged. “I still miss my mother's radish stew, though.”
“Radish stew,” Pensword said as he rubbed a hoof beneath his chin. “Hmm, you will have to show me how to make it some time.”
“I’d ... like that.” She blushed.
He chuckled as he looked to Lunar Fang, hoping he was doing the right thing. He certainly did not want to upset her any further than he had already. It was strange being expected to spread his line out between at least two mares. He hoped to Faust and the Moon he would be able to pull this off before he returned to staring out the window, listening to the train and feeling the sway of the coach car beneath them.
Hammer Strike sat quietly in his seat, thinking to himself about the first project he would work on and where he was going to store the finished projects.
Conor walked up to his friend and sat in the chair opposite him. “Penny for your thoughts?”
“You want to go into a conversation on weapon smithing and armor smithing?”
“Whatever makes you comfortable,” Conor said, shrugging. “I’m too tired to really care all that much right now, and smithing always has been intriguing to me.”
Hammer Strike gave a soft chuckle. “Perhaps I could teach you a thing or two while we’re here, eh?”
“I sure wouldn’t mind. You’re probably going to insist that I learn how to use my thaumic field some more while I’m here anyways, unless you want me to stop now since I’ll be going home soon.”
“The more attached you get to it, the worse it’ll be when you go home,” he replied. “At least with smithing you have more of a chance of using it back home.” He gave a small grin.
“Not to mention the combat training I’ve started.” Conor smiled back.
“Hopefully, you’ll stay in shape this time around.” His grin grew.
“You do realize I’m going back to the fattest country in our world, right?”
“Plenty of thin people still.”
“Should I start laughing first, or do you want the honors?”
“I’ll give a chuckle if I come back and have to whip you into shape.”
“Maybe I should let myself go just to get you guys back on Earth every once in awhile.”
“We’ll be coming back once in awhile of course. It’s just that we couldn’t stay for long.”
“Right, because of the whole magic field needing Equestrian magic, right?”
“It needs a form of power in general. Our wounds are so deep that if the field died off, it couldn’t support us anymore.”
“And you three die.” He sighed. “I’d hoped I’d read that part wrong.”
“At least one of us would die, two severe conditions left.” He shook his head. “It wouldn’t be pleasant.”
“I wish I didn’t have to say goodbye.”
“Then don’t. Simply say until next time.” He gave a soft smile.
“And there’s the emotion.” Conor smiled back,. “See? I told you I’d get you to show some before I left.”
“There’s more reason than that,” he replied, shaking his head lightly. “But yes, you did get some.”
“You won’t mind if I hug you guys before you come back here, will you?”
“It’ll be a little tricky. I believe everyone is headed to their own family, but we’ll see how things go.”
“Then I’m hugging you guys before we go back. Like I said, you three are family. I’m not going to leave without treating you like it.”
“I’ll make sure I don’t accidentally burn you.”
“Think you can help me with that in the forge when we get there, too?”
“That’s where you’re going to have to suck it up.”
“Curses.” Conor smirked. “I’m looking forward to it.”
Meanwhile, Grif made his way over to where Bellacosa sat by one of the windows looking out over the passing scenery. “So, War Prince Bellacosa,” Grif smiled down at the young crystal colt as Moon River nibbled on his ears, “what will be your first royal action when you return to your kingdom? Commission a dagger? Or a sword? Some battle armor, perhaps?” he asked nonchalantly, though most experienced fighters could see the test in his words.
“Well, I might just because our armor is out of date compared to the rest of Equestria and the world at large, but I don’t really see your point,” Cosy said, scratching his head. “Why would I want a bunch of flashy stuff like that?”
“But surely there is something you want to do when you return to your kingdom triumphant?” Grif asked him. “And alone?”
“... Alone.” Belacosa sighed as he looked out at the window. “Battle may be exciting and all, Grif, but I really hate war,” he said as his eyes started to water. “War took my mother. It killed some of my best friends, and now … now it’s taken ten more.”
“I’ve seen over forty good living beings to their death in combat,” Grif told him. “Their memory became my burden, just as your guards’ memories have become your burden. Remember them as best you can, and never forget the sacrifice they made for you. You should do your best to find out who their families are and make a point to comfort them. If we forget those who helped us become what we are, are we any better than Ambrosia?”
Cosy sniffled and ran a hoof across his nose. “No. We’re not.” His lips started to wobble as he struggled to hold back the tears. “Grif, could you take Moon River for a bit? I think I need some time alone.”
“Of course.” Grif picked up the giggling foal. “If you need to talk, I’m here.”
Cosy nodded as he looked out the window. Crystal tears clinked against the frame as they broke apart. The faces of the brave stallions who had watched over him danced like phantoms across the windowpane as the train made the transition from the green of Equestria to the harsh cold of the frozen north. “A snowstorm for every fallen soldier,” he said, repeating the old adage. “I never thought about it much before. I guess everypony cries sometimes, even nature.”
Extended Holiday Ch 76: Of Marriage, Forges, and Prophecies Act 10
Hammer Strike rolled his shoulders as he exited the train. “Wonderful, just as warm as I remember it.”
“Kinda wish they’d let the weird weather shielding thingy down sometimes,” Grif said. “It looked positively mild out there.” The engineers working to melt the frost on the train’s front glared at the Gryphon.
“I still don’t get why you chose to sleep on the roof when you had a deluxe suite complete with a bed for you and your wives,” Conor said, shaking his head in disbelief at his friend’s callous remark.
“Hey, it was a blizzard out there. It reminded me of home, well, half of me anyway. There’s no snow in the Northern Isles.” Grif chuckled, then moved to help Shrial off the train, followed by Avalon. Not far off, four large wooden crates were unloaded from one of the cargo carts.
Cosy sighed as he leapt off onto the platform and took a deep breath. “There’s no place like home,” he said, smiling. Moon River immediately jumped on his back and started bouncing up and down, her new dagger belted to her side.
“BELLACOSA!” An all-too-familiar voice shattered the moment as the sound of stomping hooves echoed through the station. Cadence approached the colt and everyone around could swear the ground beneath her hooves was smoking. “WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?” Bellacosa opened his mouth to speak. “NO EXCUSES! DO YOU KNOW HOW WORRIED I’VE BEEN? DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH SLEEP I’VE GOTTEN THIS WEE-” her tirade was cut off as moon river leaned in and booped the livid Alicorn’s nose, stopping her in her tracks.
“Uh … Princess Cadence, I presume?” Conor asked
“Oh, you are so adorable!” Cadence swept Moon River into her hooves. “Look at that cute little face.”
“Well, that was a one-eighty so fast, I’m sure someone has whiplash,” Hammer Strike said, looking at the crystal empress.
Pensword smiled as he leaned over to Lunar Fang. “Good to know we have a tool to calm angry Alicorns down.” He snapped to attention as he felt the eyes of Queen Mi Amore Cadenza upon him.
“So,” Cadence cooed as she reached a hoof to return the gesture, “What’s her name? She looks just like you, Pensword. And Lunar Fang, you’re positively glowing. We have so much catching up to do once you get settled in.”
“Her name is Moon River,” Pensword responded, puffing his chest out in pride. “She is our heir and our first born.” He draped a wing over Lunar Fang’s back and nuzzled her affectionately. Cadence gave bellacosa a questioning look and the colt responded with a firm nod of his head.
“And who is this?” Cadence asked, looking to the rather shy Pegasus shrinking at the edge of the platform.
“I-I’m Fox Feather, your majesty,” she said, saluting. “I’m the captain of the commander’s bodyguard. W-we’re also kind of dating,” she said, blushing.
Cadence couldn’t help but smirk just a little. “I thought I sensed something between you two. After all, I am the alicorn of love. Speaking of which,” she pulled out a sealed scroll. “Bellacosa, you're completely sure about this? This isn’t because of Mother, is it?”
“I’m sure, Cady.” Cosy nodded. “This is my decision. It has nothing to do with Mom.”
“... Alright.” Cadence turned to face Pensword and Lunar Fang. “Grand Duke and Duchess of the Lunar Courts, as the head of House Orchid, ruling family of the Crystal Empire, I have been asked to deliver to you this proposal of betrothal negotiations. We do this with full knowledge, and understand that you have received other offers from the Solar Court, and we declare there will be no ill will or animosity should you choose to refuse us. We appreciate your consideration in this matter,” she said, offering the scroll to Lunar Fang.
Pensword’s jaw dropped as he turned to face Cosy. “Cosy … please explain this to me.” His voice was level and held no emotion, but his jaw did tremble.
Cosy blushed and rubbed one foreleg against the other. “I, um … well, when we were back in Gryphonia, I found a letter on my bed, and I thought it was for me, so I opened it, but then I found out it wasn’t, and I read about what all those mean Ponies at Canterlot were trying to do, and, well … I wanted to help.” He looked up at his uncle with wide eyes. “You’re not mad at me, are you, Uncle Pensword?”
Pensword looked at Cosy, opened his muzzle, closed it, opened it to try again, only to close it. “Cosy,” he began in a warning tone of voice, “I think-”
Lunar Fang reached out, took the scroll from Cadence, and bowed her head. “We graciously accept your proposal, and we hope to begin negotiations with you soon.”
Pensword sputtered as he turned from Lunar Fang to Cosy and back, then to Moon River, who was back on Cosy and nibbling his ear. He gaped at Cadence, then turned back to his wife as his eyes wandered over the scroll. “I’d better read that scroll,” he finally muttered with a defeated sigh.
“Well, now.” Grif chuckled awkwardly. “That was intense. Cadence, how have you been? I don’t think we had much chance to talk last time we saw each other,” he said, casually inserting himself into the conversation as he attempted to cool the situation.
“Hello, Grif.” Cadence smiled as the two had a short hug. She turned to Shrial and the smile widened. “I don’t think we had a chance to formally meet last time. I see the two of you have been busy.” She giggled.
“Three and a half months,” Shrial said. “They kick like mules already. No offense,” she said as she turned to face a drabby grey mule.
“None taken,” he replied. As Shrial turned back to Cadence, the grey mule disappeared into a train cabin waiting to travel back to Equestria.
“They? You’re having twins?” Cadence asked excitedly.
Shrial grinned. “Two girls.”
“Well, I hope we can have some time to talk. The spa has a special package for pregnant mothers. That is, if you're interested?” she asked.
“Only if there’s room for one more,” Shrial said, winking as Avalon stepped forward.
“Hello, Cadence. It’s been a while.”
“Avalon?” Cadence smiled. “Oh, wow, I haven’t seen you in, what, five, six years? What are you doing here?”
“Well, you didn’t think I’d let my pride-sister have all the fun, did you?” Avalon asked, laughing as her sharktooth necklace bounced around her neck.
“Wait. You and grif?” Cadence’s eyes widened in surprise. “I definitely wouldn’t have seen that coming.”
“Who.” Snowy seemed to laugh at the princess’s antics.
“Oh, and who’s this?” Cadence asked.
“That’s my familiar. Her name is Snowy.” Avalon brushed the owl’s feathers lightly and smiled as Snowy preened her feathers affectionately. “We’ve only been together a short while, but we’ve already been through so much.”
“Only ‘Mrs. Fashionable-without-trying-to-be’ would get a matching bird.” Cadence laughed.
“You two know each other?” Grif asked.
“Her father was sent on a political mission to Equestria a few years back,” Cadence explained. “She was with him at the time, and the two of us just sort of clicked. We tried to keep in touch, but with how things have been lately, we just kind of fell out of contact.”
“So, you and Recruit Armor, huh?” Avalon teased. “What happened to ‘I just babysit his sister?’”
“Oh hush, you.” Cadence buffeted her with a wing. She looked to the newcomer of the group. “I’m sorry about back there, you must be … Conor, was it?” she asked.
“Um … yeah, that’s me,” Conor said, blushing. “I wish they’d told me about the environmental bubble, though. I wouldn’t have packed so much heavy winter wear if I’d known.”
“I could get that shipped back to Equestria for you, if you’d like,” Cadence offered.
“No, that’s alright,” Conor returned. “I wouldn’t want to impose. Besides, we’ll be going back in a couple of weeks, so why sweat over it? … No pun intended.”
“If you say so.” Cadence shrugged. “Well then, is everybody ready?” Getting nods all around, she smiled. “Okay, so Shining Armor and the current Crystal Guard are a bit taxed with security, so I hope you’re all okay with a large teleportation jump.”
“Sounds like fun,” Conor said, smiling.
“Okay, prepare yourselves. This is something I’ve been working on with the crystal heart.” Her horn lit up and in an instant any ponies present gained a crystalline sheen before vanishing in a flash of light, which sunk into the ground and proceeded to race along the crystal pathways at blinding speeds before arriving at a large villa near the outskirts of the empire. The light rose from the path and proceeded to dissipate, revealing the assembled Ponies, Gryphons, and human.
“Well that was interesting,” Conor said.
“By the way, Cadence, what did you mean by ‘security’ earlier?” Avalon asked.
“Well, with these three here, we can’t exactly have them out in public. It would cause a riot.” Cadence laughed until she saw Avalon’s blank expression. “Wait, you mean Grif never told you?”
“Told me what?” Avalon asked, her expression a mask of neutrality as she kept her voice level and her tone mellow.
“Grif Grafson, Lord Hammer Strike, and Commander Pensword are three of the Crystal Empire’s greatest heros,” Cadence said, a little shocked. “They saved my life and that of my siblings when Sombra took over. Those three led the rebellion that gave Equestria the time to attack. They blew up the entire outer wall!” She turned to Grif. “You didn’t tell her anything?”
Grif chuckled awkwardly. “Well, I mean, with everything that was going on.… It was such a long time ago…. It was on my to-do list?”
“Really,” Avalon said in an icy tone. “Any other little life threatening adventures you forgot to mention?”
“Uh, well, we were leaders in the Third Gryphon War,” Pensword answered, his face scrunched up in concentration. “Then there were the attempts on our lives during that war. Oh, there is also the point when the Crystal Empire first came back. The Sombra of that present messed with our brains and personalities a little.” He shivered and fluffed his wings. “Very unpleasant. And having to see…” he stopped as he moved a wing to draw Lunar Fang and Fox Feather close to himself. “The guards,” he whispered.
“... I’mma gonna run now,” Grif said, jumping out the window and flying straight upwards as fast as his wings could carry him.
“Didn’t even get to the good ones,” Hammer Strike commented with a grin.
“Oh, I’m sure we’ll have plenty of time for that, Hammer Strike,” Avalon said pleasantly. “Why don’t you start filling me in while we unpack? After all, he has to come back some time.”
“I’m headed to the forge, so if you want that talk, you can either follow me, or come later.”
“... I think I’ll pass. After all, we have that spa date, and I think I just made it so we won’t have to worry about a certain featherbrained idiot we all know and love interfering,” she said, smirking conspiratorially at Shrial and Cadence.
“Oh, Avalon, we’re going to get along just fine,” Shrial purred.
Princess Alto wandered wide-eyed into the forge as she looked around. Before the rebellion, her mother had never given her a chance to spend time with the craftsponies, but now with her mother gone and her sister being so busy, she had more time to explore new areas of the castle and the empire she’d never seen before. She had wandered into the villa in search of the heros who had saved them when she heard a loud clanging sound from the basement forge and immediately left to investigate.
“Hello?” She looked around. “Is somepony down here?”
“Yes, near the back.”
“Is this where metal’s made?” she asked as she followed the voice.
“This is where metal takes form through the work of a smith.”
“Like swords and spears and stuff?” the filly asked as she approached none other than Lord Hammer Strike.
“Swords, armor, spears, maces, axes, you name it,” he responded, striking the metal once more before inspecting it. “What brings you here?”
“Is it hard?” she asked him, completely dodging the question.
“It takes time, but with proper training you can make wonderful things with ease.”
“How long did it take you to learn that?” she asked.
“I’ve been honing my work for countless years, but it doesn’t take long to learn to start.”
“How does it work?” she asked, looking at the red hot metal in awe.
“Metal becomes softer with heat in a way. Through heat treatment and proper agents, you can harden the material after shaping; however, there are a few more steps past this: the wrap, sheath construction, the hilt, etcetera.”
“Um… is it ok if I watch?” she asked carefully. “Cady and Cosy are kinda busy today.”
“If you can handle the heat, I have no problem with you being here. Conversation keeps the mind active.”
“Mr.Strike, you’re cool,” Alto said happily.
Hammer Strike gave a soft chuckle. “You’re the first to say that.”
Alto smiled as she stepped back. Most foals would have lost interest watching the simple monotonous actions of a blacksmith, but the filly just sat there for hours, taking in the process as sparks flew like fireworks across the anvil.
Vital Spark couldn’t help but smile as he made his way through the Crystal Empire. Every way he looked, bright colors, banners, and flashy attractions brought the city to life as every citizen smiled on their way. He could hardly believe the story of how the Crystal heart had saved the day for the Empire, destroying all of Sombra’s evil magic and protecting the Empire to this very day. Briefly, the image of a teenage girl with dumpling-shaped blonde hair and a heart-shaped pendant flashed before his eyes as she held up a crystal of her own to combat her enemies. “Funny how similar the two stories are,” he mumbled to himself as he passed into a veritable sea of shops and stalls. A cacophony of vendors shouted to hawk their wares.
An older-looking mare sat outside a tent by a fire. At her side, a strange looking dual-bladed staff lay waiting to be used. Across from her, on a log, sat a large, annoyed-looking cat whose tail swished agitatedly. She wore outlandish flanged armor enameled with green and black that covered her flanks and her cutie mark. She was a shorter mare with a black coat of fur, a curly brown mane, and flashing eyes. She looked at vital curiously.
“Good evening,” she said to him in a calm, even tone.
“Hello,” Vital returned as he looked to the staff. “That’s a nice focus you have there. I don’t think I’ve ever seen its like before,” he said curiously.
“Well,” her eyes seemed to twinkle, “let’s just say where I come from there are lots like it.” She laughed. “Don’t worry. The crazy old lady isn’t going to wave her hooves around a crystal ball and tell you your future.”
“The thought never crossed my mind. So, what do you do here, if you don’t mind my asking? You’re clearly not from around these parts.”
“For most, I pretend to see the future and tell customers what they want to hear for gold.” There was another twinkle in her eye as she held up a pouch. “But for the more…perceptive customers...” She opened the bag wide enough for him to see the contents.
Vital Spark didn’t understand what he was staring at at first. It looked like a bunch of pale white knobby sticks broken into small chunks until he noticed the engravings. A shudder ran down his spine, shaking him like Pinkie Pie when she felt a doozie coming. He looked up at the mare again, then whipped over to the cat, then back to the mare as his eyes widened and his pupils began to dilate. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” he muttered, more out of sheer disbelief for the similarities than anything else. It was positively uncanny.
If the mare caught his true meaning, she didn’t let it show. “Yes, the knuckle bones of a dragon,” she told him. “The only things in existence that can reveal one's future.”
“Aside from oracles, you mean?”
“Even oracles make mistakes,” the strange pony told him. Her grin was the slightest bit unsettling.
“This is going to sound incredibly strange, but you wouldn’t happen to have another weapon by the name of Tinkledeath, would you?”
“It only sounds incredibly strange if you let it,” she told him, laughing but not answering the question. “So, the question is, will you take a dive into the abyss? Be warned. What you find out cannot be forgotten.”
“Why do I get the feeling I can’t say no?”
“Because you’ll be driven mad by the constant ‘what ifs,’” she told him, laughing.
“Trust me, I already do that on a regular basis,” he said with a rueful smile. “Could you give me a minute to decide?”
“Nobody is pushing you to anything,” she said as she folded her hooves patiently and stared into the fire.
“Thanks.” He closed his eyes and stood there bowing his head for a time. After about a minute had passed, his horn sparked and his eyes opened. He took a deep breath. “Alright … I’ll do it.”
“Have a seat.” She gestured to the empty log across from her, next to the cat.
“Thank you,” he said as he cautiously sat down, eying the cat nervously.
She overturned the sack of knuckle bones into the heat of the fire itself. For a moment nothing happened, but then the carvings sparked from the heat. The sparks rose in exotic shades of green, purple, and blue as she ran her hoof through the air, as if tracing patterns. “Well, this is interesting,” she told him. “It’s been quite a long time since I’ve come across a reading this complicated.” She smiled. “Yours is the path of the lynch pin. You are not of this world, but you are not alone. Soon you will find a pathway home. Be wary when you stand at the gate. Though happiness awaits you should you stay with your family, you will seal the fates of your companions that day, though whether for good or for ill, I can’t say. Should you return to this world, many hardships await, and the four of you will survive to decide the path of two homes. There are some portions in the bones that I can’t seem to read. Curious. I haven’t encountered this since a young boy I met a long time ago.” She smiled ruefully. “Ah, here we are. Soon you will meet she to whom you will give your heart, but you will not know it then. Be forgiving. Be strong. Trust the stripes. And above all-” she thrust her face through the smoke “-stay away from blue shellfish.”
Vital Spark struggled not to laugh, but ultimately failed as it burst out of him, bubbling across the clearing. A few crystal ponies turned their heads, then shook them knowingly as they eyed the mare and continued on their way. “Sorry, sorry, it’s just the way you said that last part. Considering how you joked about fortune tellers earlier, it just fit so well.”
The mare rolled her eyes as, without much notice of the heat, she retrieved the bones from the fire and replaced them. “Take it as you will.” She smiled at him, showing she had taken no offense. “I just read the bones.”
“When you are in need, look to the history in Canterlot for the weapon of salvation. When you feel the despair of loss, seek the catbirds’ archive to find the inspiration to retrieve what you have lost.”The cat purred to itself as the words seemed to echo through Vital Spark’s head.
“Take heed,” the Pony told him. “His advice is rare, and can save your life when you need it.”
Vital Spark nodded, turning to the cat. “Thank you, Solembum.” Then he turned to the peculiar mare. “And thank you, Angela,” he said. “I’ll remember both yours and his. I hope you both find happiness while you stay in this world.” He smiled, bowed his head in respect to each of them, dropped half his bag of bits for extra measure with his usual kind smile, and left on his way.
She watched as the Unicorn walked away from her and pulled her face into a half smile. “Is it chance or fate? I can never decide.”
“Cady, quit it,” Cosy complained as Cadence ran a comb through the young colt’s mane. “It’s dinner with friends. You don’t have to dress up for that,” he sulked, pouting as Cadence levitated a silk band towards his neck and expertly tied it into a perfect bow.
“Cosy, this is serious. If we’re going to go through with the contract arrangements, then you have to follow tradition. That means dressing up for the guests. Now hold still; your buckle is crooked.
“Yeah, but these are Thestral negotiations, Cady. They wear armor to most of their important ceremonies, right? So don’t you think they might wear it to this, too?”
Cadence sighed. “What is it about boys and wearing tuxedos? You’re always happy to strap on a set of plate male, but as soon as the silk and ties break out, you do everything you can to avoid it.”
“Because they’re so tight!” Cosy said as he pulled at the bowtie on his neck. “Besides, I hate dressing up.”
“Well that’s too bad.” Cadence laughed. “Come on, Cosy, cheer up. It’s just for one night, after all.”
Cosy snorted and stomped a hoof. “Fine.”
Cadence levitated the gown she’d worn for Twilight’s coronation off of its mannequin and gracefully slipped into it before running a brush through her mane to make it curl and shine at just the right places. “There we go.” She smiled. “Ready for dinner.”
“Finally,” Cosy said as he made his way to the double doors. “I’m starving.”
“Not too fast, Cosy, you’ll ruin your mane!” Cadence called after him, but Cosy was already out of sight. She sighed and shook her head, smiling lovingly. “Boys will be boys, I guess.”
“Give him time, Cadence, he’ll grow out of it eventually,” Shining said as he emerged from his own quarters.
“To tell you the truth, Shining, that’s what I’m afraid of. He’s growing up so fast.”
Shining Armor smiled as he readjusted his grandfather’s buckle on his chest, his red vest just as crisp and well-kept as it had been on their wedding day. “Don’t worry.” He placed a hoof under her chin and drew her in for a quick kiss. “Come on. We probably shouldn’t keep Pensword and Lunar Fang waiting.”
Cadence’s smile brightened. “You’re right. Those negotiations won’t fix themselves.”
“That’s the spirit.”
The private dining room had been set up with all the proper trimmings. A selection of drinks had been decided on and set aside by the palace staff to tide the guests over until the hors d'oeuvres were served. Cadence took her spot at the head of the table and motioned for Bellacosa to take the spot on her right while Shining Armor took the chair at her other side as they waited patiently.
The double doors opened as two Crystal Pony guards entered and flanked the doors as Lunar Fang and Pensword entered the dining room. Both were garbed in a light dress armor, which was still more armored than the Solar Guards. On top of that, they both wore all the medals and sashes of their stations, revealing the history of their campaigns. What surprised Cadence was that they were wearing Luna’s sash over their hearts. The couple approached the table and waited next to their chairs.
“Please.” Cadence gestured to the open seats at the table.
The two bowed their heads before taking their seats as the goblets were filled with freshly pressed crystal berry wine.
“Thank you for joining us this evening,” Cadence said. “I hope we all have cooler heads than earlier?”
“Agreed,” Pensword replied. “Still...” He looked to Cosy, and then to Cadence. “So, I believe as you are the ones presenting the scroll, you need to begin.”
“Well, I will admit I was surprised when my brother asked about this, but I suppose in our lives everything we do must be politics. I promise you we didn’t come into this with any ulterior motive. With no disrespect intended, we have no advancement in rank or wealth that you can offer us, so please be calmed by the fact that this isn’t an arrangement out of greed.”
Lunar Fang chuckled, “If there were any other reasons behind it, I wouldn’t have accepted the first step as quickly as I did. I know Cosy, and I see the respect he’s earned in my life mate’s eyes, as well as the respect you have earned in mine, Queen Cadence.”
“Very well then. High Duchess, High Duke, this contract is unfortunately written after the old style, as I have no basis for how these things are done currently. The terms are simple: a betrothal engagement between Prince Bellacosa of the Royal House of Orchid to Moon River of the Dream Clan of the Bear Tribe, heir to the Duchy of Ys in the Lunar Kingdom. The contract is to be discharged upon Moon River’s fourteenth year, or to be rescinded upon the express intent of Moon River at any time prior to the marriage date. Her title as heir shall be moved to the next in line, be it sibling or next of kin. In return, she shall be given the southernmost duchy of the empire, and the title of Princess of the Crystal Empire,” Cadence stated as a servant brought a copy for Lunar Fang and Pensword to examine. “These are the terms currently on the table, so I believe it is fair now to let you respond.”
Lunar Fang nodded. “This looks well, and we can pass over one Thestral requirement. You are wishing to marry into the blood of a Thestral Warrior. I would have asked for proof of Bellacosa’s prowess as a warrior; however, as Commander Pensword personally witnessed his actions on the battlefield, we can skip that part.”
Pensword nodded his head with a smile. “Agreed. There is talk within the Bear Tribe of creating an offshoot of the Dream Clan called the Pen Clan, with myself as Clan Leader. This means that in accordance with Thestral standards, it would be not just a warrior, or even one who has been in combat.” He chuckled. “Still, War Prince Bellacosa, that title I call you by is not just because I like it, but because it is a tinkering of a term used for one who is worthy to even think about courting the higher leaders in Thestral society.”
“You … you really think that much of me?” Cosy asked, blushing.
“Yes, Cosy,” Pensword answered. “You have earned a lot of respect with all you have gone through and soldiered on. If you were of Thestral blood, you would already be sitting at the head table at feasts of the tribe and clans.”
“Thank you, Uncle,” he said, still blushing as he took a drink of crystal berry juice.
“If you don’t mind my asking,” Cadence said, “why did you react so strongly earlier?”
“Because I am dealing with a few other things, and my first reaction is to protect my daughter. After being filled in on what is the start of plotting to marry my daughter, I acted on instinct.” Pensword sighed. “I just want to keep her safe.”
“You’ve definitely done a great job so far, Pensword,” Shining said encouragingly. “Though from what I hear, the little lady’s quite a sharpshooter.”
“Yes,” Pensword responded with a laugh. “She smuggled in her crossbow, I think. She might be starting to create caches of bolts as well.”
Shining chuckled. “Like father like daughter.”
“Oh, that reminds me. How goes training and updating the Crystal Empire to modern tactics and weapons?”
“Surprisingly smoothly. I guess it helps that they were already geared up for war when I came. They weren’t affected by Celestia’s disarming.”
“So, then,” Cadence looked to Bellacosa, “I believe all that's left is the formal request from the groom.”
Cosy nodded. “Right.” He reached into the breast pocket on his suit and pulled out a scroll. Using his magic, he levitated the scroll into the air and proceeded to unroll it. Cadence nodded encouragingly and gestured with a hoof. He briefly ran his eyes over the scroll, groaned, then shook his head before tearing up the scroll piece by piece and letting the resulting debris fall like snowflakes to the ground. “I’m sorry, Cady, but half those words, I don’t even know how to say. If I’m going to do a proposal, I should do it my way.” A cheeky tug pulled at the corners of his muzzle, just enough for a wry smile to slip through before he turned again to face Pensword and Lunar Fang. “Uncle Pensword, Aunty Lunar Fang, if Moon River’s okay with it when she’s old enough, will you let me marry her?”
Pensword looked to Lunar Fang, then back to Cosy. “As you have asked both of us, we will both answer. For me, I accept. I happily give you my blessing.”
“And mine,” Lunar fang said gently as she bowed her head to Bellacosa’s level. The slightest hint of tears developed in her eyes. “You are brave and good. I know you will make her happy. But should you ever bring her pain--” her voice dropped just half an octave, but the difference was quite clear. “-- like the lion my tribe reveres, I will hunt you down and tear you apart.” Her voice returned to normal. “Clear?”
Cosy grinned. “As crystal.” Cadence groaned. “What? Comic told me it was a great joke.”
The rest of the assemblage broke into gales of laughter while Cadence plopped her muzzle on the table and shook her head.
Vital Spark stared at the two pillars of crystal jutting down into a pulsing blue crystal shaped like a heart. Its thrum pulsed into the circuit-like roadways of the town and as he approached it, he couldn’t help but marvel. It had to be one of the largest chunks of gemstone he had ever seen in his life. He reached out with his magic only briefly to get a feel for the power that lay there and was surprised to feel something very akin to Harmony’s own presence, though there were several differences. Harmony felt more restrained when he spoke with her, but when he brushed the awareness behind this crystal’s magic, he received the distinct sense of perfect love and a desire to spread it as far as possible. The connections between the crystal ponies felt like colored tethers leading to the heart, then weaving together as they stretched into the castle itself and through the walls. “Must be linked to Cadence,” he muttered to himself. “Makes sense since she’s the Crystal Princess and all.”
“The crystal heart is connected to the empire itself,” a large Crystal Pony stallion said, approaching him.
“I can tell. It’s beautiful, almost like a tapestry, and the heart is the loom.”
“I’m Crystal Text. I do the tour for the heart,” the Pony said, offering a hoof.
“Vital Spark. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Crystal Text, and I’d be honored to hear about the heart and anything else you can tell me about the empire. It’s my first time here, and there’s so much to see.” He couldn’t help but smile as he shook the Pony’s hoof.
“What would you like to hear?”
“Well, how about we start with the more recent history? My friends tell me the empire disappeared for a thousand years before it came back and that Twilight and her friends saved it by giving Spike the heart, right?”
“Yes,” Crystal Text nodded, “but even that wouldn’t have happened without the three Equestrian heroes,” he said. “If they hadn’t destroyed the wall, it would have taken Equestria months to get into the city, and then who knows what would have happened?”
“Three Equestrian heroes, huh? What were they like?”
Crystal Text smiled as he signaled Vital Spark to follow. He lead him to a statue of three strangely familiar figures. “Now, it’s not out of the question for Lord Hammer Strike to appear where needed, but if you had told me that the commander of the Equestrian military and a random Gryphon would be helping to save our people just after the Third Gryphon war, I think most would have put you in an asylum.”
“I’m sorry, did you say Hammer Strike?”
“Yes, Lord hammerstrike; Grif, Son of Graf; and Commander Pensword.”
“And this happened a thousand years ago?”
“Yes, just after the Third Gryphon War.”
“What happened?”
“The three of them appeared at our gates not long after the war. Apparently, their troops had been wiped out by a wild changeling attack. Lord Hammer Strike was exhausted and being supported by the other two. A couple of days later, the current queen’s cousin once removed murdered our beloved Queen Blood Orchid and took over the empire. If it hadn’t been for those three, we’d have all been enslaved, but Lord Hammer Strike and Grif managed to get many ponies underground to the mines while Commander Pensword got others out of the city, as well as our Queen Cadence and her two siblings. Over the next week or so, Grif led guerrilla attacks across the empire on Sombra’s men while Lord Hammer Strike set things up to take down the wall. When the Equestrian army was outside our borders, they blew up the entire outer wall that used to surround the city using explosive crystals. Equestria took the empire within days, Sombra was turned to shadow, and then the tyrant performed his wicked spell, and you know the rest.”
“So he cast a spell that flung the entire kingdom a thousand years in the future? Where did he get that kind of magic?”
“Nopony knows for sure, but some of us suspect it was from the Equestrian envoy’s laboratory.”
“Who was this envoy?”
“Starswirl the Bearded,” Crystal Text supplied. “His laboratory has been sealed ever since.”
“Where’s it located?”
“It’s inside the Crystal Palace, just left of the dungeon stairs.”
Vital Spark’s eyes lit up. “Awesome. I’ll have to visit there next. Thanks for the history lesson, Crystal Text.” He immediately began to run back towards the palace. “Oh, and I’ll tell Hammer Strike and the others you say hi!” he shouted over his shoulder as he continued to race.
“H…” the Pony was unable to get Vital Spark’s attention as he left. He shook his head “Tourists,” he mumbled as he went back to the entrance for the next group to teach. “... Wait, did he just say Hammer Strike?”
Pensword looked outside the window. The northern lights shone as the Crystal Ponies gathered beneath the tower to show thanks and joy at the three heros’ return to the Empire. He watched the sky for a time, taking in the ribbons in their dance, then turned away sadly. Memories of what he had seen, what he had experienced when their adventures had only just begun, haunted him. He could still recall the cold sting of the snow blowing into his flanks as he marched resolutely through heavy drifts to reach the outpost and activate the Scattered Wind Protocol. “I wonder if it still stands,” he whispered to himself. He trotted slowly towards a long cushioned bench, sat down, and started removing his dress armor.
“So this was the place?” Lunar Fang asked him.
“Yes, dear,” Pensword answered with a sigh. “This Villa, well, I never visited this location, but the others...” He moved to the window. “I can still trace where the great wall used to be. I can see the scars faintly there as outlines. I can see the tops of the buildings that used to tower over the path I took out of the city. I can hear the cries, the growls, the gurgling of corruption taking form ... taking over good guards and civilians.” He looked to the palace that towered over all. “I also am happy to know that the true rulers sleep within the walls of the palace again. That Cady turned out to be Princess Mi Amore Cadenza, or Candance to all of her friends and family. That Cosy,” he chuckled, “did you know Cosy and Alto came with us through the stone spell? They were…” he frowned as he moved a wing where an old wound from that war had been. “They saw the battle and the war.” He shook his head to clear it of the ghosts of the past before returning to his uniform. In a matter of moments, he’d removed the rest, risen from the makeshift chair, and carried the armor to a nearby closet to hang it back up on some hangers.
“That explains far too much about Bellacosa,” Lunar Fang said.
Pensword exited the closet only in his fur and feathers. “How so?” he asked as he landed at her side. Soon after, she took a seat at a desk that had been provided for them. An oil lamp burned brightly as Lunar Fang viewed the scattered scrolls. “Looking over the contract?”
“I trust them well enough,” Lunar Fang replied. “I meant how you described him in battle. Perhaps his ferocity is linked to the experience. You still draw from your anger during the Gryphon wars in a fight, after all.”
Pensword nodded his head. “Then I will have to take him out, maybe to a meadow or to an abandoned outpost and just let him fully attack something.” He shuddered. “That anger is a two-edged sword. You have seen me when I was lost to it. You saw the aftermath in Mountainside Falls.” He glanced at a painting of the Crystal Empire landscape from before the rise of Sombra. “Where is Fox Feather?” He asked.
“She wanted to look around for a while. I think she still feels awkward.”
“Don’t blame her. I think she saw me as a fruit she could not have, and yet, here you are, my wife, placing it into her hooves for her to take.” He shook his head. “While I am okay with that, Matthew is making it awkward in my head. I have had to remind him that I fall under Equestrian laws, not American ones now.” He grimaced. “Yes, I know you are still loyal to your nation,” he whispered, “but you were giving me hints even before you woke up in that war. We made our cloud nest, now we get to sleep in it. Also… it is expected of me in Thestral society to have two blood lines incase something happens to one. There are higher chances of the line surviving to carry on the legacy that way. You know that.” He sighed. “Lunar Fang… talk sense into the human. You did it back when he was two-legged, can you do so now?” He snorted and flicked both ears. “Patience, Matthew. The Princesses are working on getting you at least to be human a little bit. Of course we didn’t know your heart would not go back to normal.” He sighed and rubbed a hoof to his temple. “Grif warned me not to separate the two of us, but at the moment, till I can reconcile this situation, our minds are not gelling, as Matthew would say.”
She looked at him silently for a good ten minutes before she moved in and wrapped her hooves around him gently. “We will get through this, my heart. Remember that no matter what happens, the moon still travels the night. The stars change, but the moon's path is always the same. Your stars have shifted a little. Don’t worry about what it means; just look for the new constellations.”
Pensword nodded and wrapped his hooves around her, nuzzling the side of her muzzle. “I know, my dear Moonshade,” he said, using her old name for the first time in a very long time. “I just need to learn the new constellations, and teach them to the old stickler as well.” He chuckled. “Do not think I have not heard you call me the Blood General,” he muttered into the air. He shook his head. “We act like siblings, honestly. In a way, you are married to two stallions in one body.” He shook his head. “Matthew refuses to do what Grif did. He wants to find our own path.” He grinned. “Maybe that is why, seeing as it was all Matthew in this place. He is a little stronger in my mind lately. You have no idea how much I want to get out and see the sights, consequences be put in Tartarus. I can face the crowds. They will never be as nasty as Fort Triumph.”
“Grif was struggling to overcome two sets of rage, two sets of pain. That's not the same problem you face,” Lunar Fang reminded him. “Your path needs to find a way you both can agree to; a partnership of sorts.”
“Agreed. A sort of joint command, so to speak. Still, he aches to show you his world as you have shown him yours.” He grinned suddenly and kissed her muzzle. “The good thing about staying inside is I get to spend so much time with you, my wonderful Thestral.”
“Well, I am pretty great, human,” she told him, smirking. “Soon things will work out. Just hang in there and have a little faith, okay?”
“Oh, I know, it is just Matthew and I ... we don’t like being cooped up, and I can see it as well in your own wing twitches.” He moved closer to her. “At least they perfected the heating spells, or we would have to be sharing our body heat,” he whispered as he tickled the inside of her ear.
“Well, it is somewhat chilly,” she said, smirking slyly back.
He returned the smirk with one of his own. “That it is. Maybe the Crystal Ponies don’t notice due to them, well, being part Crystal?”
“Perhaps we should still share some body heat?” she asked him.
“I would not be opposed to that,” he answered, running a wing tip down her spine as he nipped playfully at her ear.
Grif yawned as he worked the stove in front of him. Scrambled eggs, bacon, pancakes, french toast, and other breakfast dishes sizzled as the Gryphon worked. While Grif had little talent for cooking save stews and roasts over a campfire, Taze had cooked for himself enough to prepare a very enjoyable breakfast if he did say so himself. It had been a good long time since Grif or Taze had had the opportunity to work the kitchen, however, and the Gryphon had decided he would put some time in this vacation into sharpening those skills. The kitchen was filled with several different aromas that seemed to permeate the entire villa.
As he worked, he hummed an old song to himself. He idly flipped a few pancakes over before grinding pepper over the eggs. The Gryphon wondered idly to himself where everyone was, seeing how he knew Hammer Strike was likely awake before he was. Putting those musings aside, he shrugged and returned to work.
Looking out the kitchen window, he found himself remembering back to their first visit to the empire and the events that had happened during that brief stay. He found himself idly thinking back to Starswirl's laboratory. It had been taken with the rest of the empire when it vanished. Was it still in the castle? Had Cadence even had time to explore the old wizard’s domain during the months of ruling the nation? Casually, Grif made a note to himself to suggest he and Hammer Strike make a short visit to said lab. Perhaps Starswirl would have some knowledge he could expend from beyond the grave regarding this prophecy Grif had encountered in Gryphonia. He would have kept thinking on the subject had a loud crackling not reminded him of his current task. Fortunately, he could save the scrambled eggs. Hammer Strike liked his food cooked well anyway, right?
Grif heard the sound of two sleepy Ponies entering the villa’s kitchen. “Grif?” Pensword started. He could hear him sniffing the food. “Do you need any help in here?” He did not have to turn around to know that Lunar Fang was moving to set the table, as she had during the Third Gryphon War to allow tighter privacy during conversations.
“Everything’s fine,” Grif told him. “Could you get that orange juice from the ice box?”
“Sure,” Pensword answered with a chuckle as he moved to the ice box. “I see three jugs. How many do you want me to pull out?”
“Probably just the one. Most people will drink coffee, I think,” Grif said.
“Sounds good,” Pensword answered as he grabbed a jug of orange juice.
“You know, this is nice, just making breakfast as a family,” Grif said.
“Agreed,” Pensword answered with a laugh.
“I’m glad we got sent on this mandatory vacation,” Grif said. “The last few months have been … tiring.”
“I agree,” Pensword muttered. “I get time to spend with my wife. She is pushing me along the Thestral culture,” he answered cheerfully. “But yes, this is going to be a nice vacation.”
“You holding up okay?” Grif asked him as he loaded the scrambled eggs onto a plate before reaching for a second batch he had prepared and pouring it into the pan.
“Yeah, just… trying to actually get used to not being in a war stance,” he admitted. “I am also chomping at the bit for Luna’s bill to make its public debut in the halls of government.”
“You're eager to return to active duty as the commander, huh? Well, you're going to need more than unity to train an army.”
Lunar Fang laughed softly as she reentered the kitchen. “Well, when the bill comes through, there will be recruitment drives, and he will have to use New Unity as a temporary training base till the academies are built.” She sighed. “Looks like our days together as a group are numbered.”
“That’s not a nice thought,” Grif said, parts of the prophecy echoing in his mind.
“Lunar Fang,” Pensword spoke in a hushed tone, “don’t speak like that.”
Lunar Fang giggled. “You used a contraction.” She kissed him on the muzzle full-on. “Still, we are going to be moving on in our lives, and that means not all of us will be stationed in New Unity forever.”
“So how long before River’s up?” Grif asked as he worked.
“Well, soon,” Lunar Fang admitted. “She’s a little put out with Fizzpot not being able to come, but Fox Feather’s been able to get a little on her good side, so she’s sleeping in her room.” They heard hoof steps coming to the Kitchen. “And there they are,” she said happily.
“Can one of you let Hammer Strike know that there is food whenever he needs to eat?” Grif asked.
“Pensword, would you kindly?” Lunar Fang asked, not seeing Grif’s facial expression.
Pensword smiled and nodded before he turned around and headed towards the forges as Fox Feather and Moon River entered the Kitchen. Pensword smirked, then kissed Fox Feather on the side of the muzzle before kissing Moon River on the forehead. “Be safe today,” he whispered to them both before fully exiting the kitchen.
Hammer Strike gave a small grin as he strapped the final plate onto the dummy in front of him. He looked over the set he had just made. It was a simple design, but he didn’t have any commission for it, no real defined Pony for it to go to. For once, he just felt like making it.
“When did you start that?” a familiar voice asked from behind.
“Five hours ago or so,” Hammer replied, turning to Alto.
“But I heard Shiny’s armourer say that it could take weeks to make a good suit of armor,” Alto said.
“Weeks of on and off work. I… honestly have nothing else to do other than this, so…” Hammer sighed. “Keeps me preoccupied.”
“It doesn’t look like the armor the guards wear,” Alto said, tilting her head.
“Because most of their armor isn’t fit for real battle,” Hammer replied as he pointed towards specific sections. “Chainmail between open segments of plates, proper ear protection. If I wanted to, I could add protection for the eyes by a simple diamond visor.”
“Why does it need plates and chain mail?” she asked “Don’t they both block stuff?”
“But if you just have one, you are open to what the other blocks. Chainmail, for example, isn’t well off with protection against projectiles such as bolts and arrows, but plates are. Meanwhile, plates have the slight issue of leaving gaps open at segments where you require the ability to move. They cut off flexibility.” He pointed to the gaps in the armor, poking the chainmail that lay in between. “Put them together, and you have a more flexible point for joints, and a more solid foundation for projectiles. While not perfect, it defends better than just one or the other.”
“Is it com- compli- is it hard?” Alto asked.
“Until you get used to it. Then it becomes as easy as it is to make a dagger.”
“How do you make a dagger?”
Hammer Strike glanced at the material he had available. “Rather than explain, how about I show you?”
“Really?” Alto’s eyes lit up at the offer.
“Yes, really.” Hammer Strike grinned.
Grif moved as quietly as he could while pushing a cart holding two dining trays. Silently, he opened the door to the large double room he, Shrial, and Avalon shared. “Room service?” he said carefully as he entered.
“Well well, the prodigal husband finally returns,” Avalon said pleasantly, smirking as her tail twitched behind her.
“What took you so long, Grif?” Shrial asked, chuckling as well. “We didn’t scare you that much, did we?”
“You, Shrial, my dear, never,” Grif said before turning to Avalon. “She scares me sometimes, though,” he said as he placed a tray gently in front of Shrial. He tapped her talons when she went to open it. “Uh-uh, wait until you both have yours. It’s a surprise,” Grif said as he brought the second tray over to Avalon.
“What do you have hiding under there, husband mine?” Avalon asked, a playful glint in her eyes as she observed her tray.
“Well, where my other half comes from, they have taken their omnivorous ways to a much more extreme extent than Gryphons have begun to imagine, yet in doing so they have discovered combinations the likes of which your pallet cannot begin to fully imagine. It is true Equestria has something like this, but I assure you Equestria also has nothing like this.” Grif grabbed a lid in each talon and lifted them. The aroma of seared meat, vegetables, and seasoning entered the room instantly, making the Gryphons’ mouths start watering.
As the covers lifted, a large bun cut in two pieces met their vision. Resting in between the pieces, two large rounded disks of venison sat one on top of the other. On top of each patty, stacked in a criss-cross pattern, were four strips of fresh boar bacon with a large piece of melted cheese. Next to both burgers stood a pile of something that seemed to resemble salted hayfries.
“What … are these things?” Shrial asked curiously as she picked up one of the strange objects. It proved surprisingly soft, and her talon pierced through its skin with little difficulty.
“They are potato fries, or if you prefer, french fries, freedom fries, or chips,” Grif said. “It really depends on the culture you come from.”
Shrial took a small bite to test them. “Hmm … mildly salted, a little bit of garlic, and just a hint of olive oil?”
“You like it?” Grif asked her.
“They’re … interesting, but a little heavy in the mouth. They need something moist to balance it out.”
From behind his back, Grif produced a bottle of ketchup and handed it to her. “Try this.”
“Ketchup?” she cocked an eyebrow as she poured a small portion onto her plate before dipping the fries in and sampling. Her eyes immediately widened. “The tart and the sweet mix perfectly with the salt.” She quickly speared five more, rapidly dipped them, and popped them one at a time into her mouth before chewing and swallowing with a large bulge showing as the food went down her throat. She smirked. “And the girls seem to like it, too.”
“And you, Avalon?” Grif inquired.
Avalon let out a delicate burp as she ran a napkin over her beak. Her plate had already been cleared of the entire burger. “And you’re certain that humans are omnivores? That was one of the most delicious couple of venison patties I’ve ever eaten, and the bacon was heavenly, but why put them between two slices of bread?”
“The bread acts as a thermal separation. Unlike Gryphons, humans have fleshy fingers, so they can’t lift hot meat bare-handed easily.”
“Interesting. And I will admit, the quality of the bread does add another layer of texture and flavor to contrast with the meat,” she said as she ate one of the fries. “Could you please pass the ketchup, Shrial?” Shrial nodded and shoved the bottle Avalon’s way, too busy enjoying her meal with her other talons to acknowledge Avalon directly.
“So, my dear,” Grif smiled at Avalon, “am I forgiven?”
Avalon leaned in and kissed Grif beak to beak before breaking off. “Not even close.” She smirked. “But you can work on that with us tonight in bed.”
“Perhaps there is something else we can also work on tonight?” Grif asked, caressing a talon gently over her lower belly.
“I thought you said you wanted to wait.”
“Until we left Gryphonia,” Grif reminded her. “We’re not there anymore.” He moved close to her and wrapped her in a wing.
“Oh, Grif,” Avalon said, her cheeks flushing.
Shrial chuckled. “Tonight’s going to be fun.”
“But we can talk about that later,” Grif said as he let Avalon go and got to his feet. “I need to pull some pork for tonight's meal. You girls enjoy.” He smirked as he left the room.
Pensword snuck through the streets, a cloak covering his body. He’d had enough of staying in the villa. He wanted to see the sights, to know how the empire had changed since he last had been there. He trotted through the main thoroughfare, looking where the old gate once had been. He could still remember the feel of the harness around his barrel as he pulled Cosy, Alto, and Cadence to safety in Starswirl’s cart all those years ago. His first action would be going to visit the tavern he’d stayed at; then he would take the back streets and explore. He sighed, stopping momentarily to enjoy the moonlight as it beamed onto his face before pressing forward. He paused in confusion as he turned one corner. “Wait, that was not there,” he murmured, confused. A guard post stood before him. He leaned forward and squinted. “Okay… a poor representation of a guard post,” he muttered. It was probably one of the foals playing.
“Who dares approach the well made guard post of Parchment and Cor?” a white Unicorn stallion with a short orange mane called out. His eyes glowed a neon orange. On his back, a small yellow filly with a brown mane and blue eyes stood, attempting to look serious in her blue-and-red striped sweater.
“A Pegasus tourist,” Pensword answered. “I am just enjoying the sights and paths.”
“Be careful around these parts, there could be danger around any corner! But fear not, for I, Parchment, and Cor, shall keep watch and defend everypony.” Parchment gave a smile as the filly on his back stood on his head, one hoof on her forehead as she scanned for danger.
“I feel safer already,” Pensword answered, humoring the pair as he tried to keep from laughing. “I shall be on my way.”
“Have a good night!” Parchment responded. Cor gave a grin and waved.
“Thank you.” Pensword was happy the encounter had gone by so very quickly and without any problems. He sighed with relief and continued on his way. His ear twitched and he turned to look back at the guard post. He heaved a sigh. He could not let it go. Knowing he would regret it, he clopped back and took the plunge. “Why are you in a guard post? What danger could there be? Sombra is defeated.”
“Sombra may be gone, but you never know what lurks here,” Parchment replied as Cor nodded. “So, I and Cor have decided. If I am to join the guard some day, I should get some practice in!”
“Interesting,” Pensword answered. “And how goes that adventure?”
“A sound night!”
“Sounds good. Also, I am wondering, how goes the journey of joining the guard?” He spoke with a smile.
“I’m being trained by the captain at least twice a week.”
“Oh? You know the Prince?” He asked with shock.
“He said he likes how determined I am.” Parchment smiled. “I went to talk with him, but I had to wait until morning, so I did! Right outside until the crack of dawn.”
“That seems interesting,” Pensword whispered to himself. “Well, I think I am going to keep that in mind,” he said pleasantly. “But I think I should be heading forward. I would like see the Crystal Heart. I need to see it back in its proper place,” he said, his voice growing dark. “Grif and Hammer Strike would like to know it is safe.”
“Oh, goody! Hammer Strike and Grif are in town?” Parchment’s smile grew. “I should see them at some point. I’m sure they’d love to hear I’m still doing a good job!” Cor grinned and nodded in agreement, seemingly liking the idea.
“I’ll see that the message is passed forward. Now, good evening.” Pensword offered a salute and turned towards the palace and the crystal heart.
“Till next time!”
“Very well.” Pensword waved negligently as he walked away.
Pensword entered the Crystal Heart Sanctuary, sighed, then smiled as he began to walk around the great gemstone. “Oh, nice…” He sighed again as he looked up at the ceiling, then returned his attention to the heart. The unique sound of celestial iron horseshoes on the floor alerted him to Shining Armor’s approach. He smiled happily as he turned to the Prince and Captain. “Prince Armor, how are you doing?” he asked casually. “Look, can I ask a question?”
“Yes?” Shining Armor narrowed his eyes at the hooded Pony. “Who are you?” he demanded as his horn lit up and the handle of a blade glowed. Pensword threw his hood off briefly before pulling it back up. Shining’s eyes widened. “Right, we can talk in my office.” He swiftly led Pensword into the palace to one of the upper rooms, where Shining opened a door to reveal a fairly ornate office. Badges and medals from his former days in the Royal Guard hung from wooden plaques, each marked with an engraving in dedication of the day he received them. A series of bookshelves lined the semicircular room, breaking up the wall of awards for an efficient, symmetrical organization. A large desk made of solid crystal glinted a pale purple with a large cushioned chair to hold and comfort him as he bent over paperwork for hours on end. A pair of smaller chairs flanked the door on either side for visitors to pull up should they wish.
“So,” Shining Armor said, taking his seat. “What’s on your mind, Pensword?”
“Do you know about a Crystal Pony by the name of Parchment?” Pensword asked. Shining’s eyes widened, then he groaned, following up immediately with a facehoof. “I thought so. I take it you are humoring him?”
“It’s the only thing I can do. He’s always at the gate of the barracks three days a week at sunrise. He just can’t seem take a hint. And every time we try to tell him what he’s doing wrong, he won’t even listen. Besides, how can I train somepony that nice? He wasn’t meant for battle, let alone war. You’ve seen how he takes care of his ward. He won’t even kill a fly.” He sighed. “What did he do this time?”
“He built a guard post near the traveler’s tavern,” Pensword answered with a sigh.
“He did what?” Shining jumped to his hooves. “I never gave him authorization!”
“It looks very poorly made, but yes. You may want to have him change it so folks know it is not a real outpost.”
Shining groaned again and rubbed a hoof between his eyes. “I’m just going to have to figure out how to say it right. If I don’t, Comic will withdraw his technical support, and we need him right now to help rebuild and reinforce. If it wasn’t for him, we wouldn’t have recovered nearly as much technology as we have. Though he did mention something about a missing crystal bot he made once that’s still missing. I think he called it … Crystrap?”
Pensword froze. “He created that thing?” He groaned. “I met it on a ship as we headed to the Gryphon Empire. I think we left it there. I warn you. Do not let it stay. Parchment is nothing compared to Crystrap.”
Shining looked dumbstruck at Pensword. “I find that hard to believe, but I’ll take your word for it. Anything else Parchment said that I should know about?”
“Yes,” Pensword spoke hesitantly. “He ... knows that Hammer Strike and Grif are in town … thanks to me. So, you might be having a holiday for a bit. Sorry.”
“No, I’m sorry that those two will have to, well, I guess it would be remake his acquaintance. Faust have mercy on the both of them.” He shuddered. “I hate to think what would happen if he managed to make them snap.”
Vital Spark trotted down towards the dungeons humming happily to himself as he followed Crystal Text’s directions. To get the chance to actually see the laboratory that once belonged to the great Starswirl the Bearded would be a wonderful thing, assuming he could actually get past whatever seal may have been placed over it. Eventually, a flickering light caught his attention. Different from the other torches, it shifted and warped like it was passing through water. “Must be getting close,” he said.
Turning the corner, he discovered a giant stone archway filled with what looked almost like a glimmering white mist, and yet it emanated light, not just reflected it. Above the large stone archway on the keystone lay a flat piece of familiar white bark glowing dimly. Across its surface, engraved in a deep red, was a circular symbol formed of many intricate runes and glyphs with what Vital realised, to his awe, was a twenty-pointed star drawn in the center. The seal thrummed with so much harmonic energy that he could feel his soul tingle from the overload.
“... Harmony?” Vital whispered. No response came, yet the feeling was still the same. “What’s her bark doing all the way up here?” he asked as he approached curiously. “Is this what’s hurting her?” He tentatively poked a hoof toward the barrier. A few sparks jumped at him, but for some reason, he could feel no repelling force. “Is this going to be a Titan AE moment?” he asked himself. “Well … guess I should just go at it. Hasn’t done anything yet.” With that said, Vital reached in and plunged the hoof through. He was instantly reminded of his human form, handling dishes fresh from the dishwasher. They were hot, but not too hot to handle, just uncomfortable. He waved the hoof a few times to make sure he had freedom of movement, and would have tested further had he not heard the sound of hastily clopping hooves. “Wuh-oh.” With that said, he plunged through the barrier. There was a bright white flash, then all was as it had been before, though the bark did glow just a little brighter. Vital swayed on his hooves next to the ward as the galloping hooves screeched to a halt in front of the door.
“Who’s there?” a familiar voice shouted. “Show yourself!”
“Cadence?” Vital Spark asked, steadying himself against a wall.
“Oh, it’s you … Vital Spark, was it?” she asked.
“Um … yeah, that’s me.” He shook his head to clear it.
“What are you doing with the barrier?” she asked him. “And how did you get past it for that matter?”
“I wanted to see Starswirl’s laboratory, and, well … I just went to touch it and then I heard hoofsteps running, so I panicked and jumped through, and well … here I am.”
“But how did you get through? We haven’t been able to breach that seal yet, and Aunt Celestia herself tried,” cadence said. “We thought Starswirl’s formula was unpassable.”
“I … don’t actually know,” he said. “I just sort of did it.”
Cadence was speechless at that.
“Cadence? Are you still there? … Hello?”
Hammer Strike grinned as he helped Alto finish the wrap on the dagger. After a quick mental debate, he had the filly help him forge it to test if she liked doing more than just watching.
“And there you go,” he said as he tapped a rivet in, finishing the simple wrap. “The finished product.”
“Wow,” Alto said as she looked at the dagger. “It took a while, but it wasn’t as hard as I thought.”
“And it only gets easier.”
“How long did it take you to get so good?”
“Years of practice,” he replied looking at Alto with a grin. “Like I said, in my free time, I usually go to the forge and just work the day or night away.”
“I hope I can be that good one day.”
“If you keep learning, and keep working at it, I’m sure you will,” Hammer said as he pulled out a heavy leather sheath and some silver.
“Could I maybe send you a letter from time to time about how I’m doing?” Alto asked. “... If that's okay?”
“I’d love that.”
“Thanks.” She smiled. “So is smithing all you do?”.
“I do plenty of things, though mostly paperwork, smithing, and sometimes practice with certain weapons,” Hammer replied with a shrug. “If I’m lucky, I get time to work on side projects that I come up with from time to time.”
“So… could I visit you again tomorrow? Maybe you can show me more?”
“I’d be alright with that.”
“Thank you, Hammer Strike,” Alto cheered as she rushed to hug him. A few moments later, she released the embrace. “I should be heading home now. Cady will be worried. Bye.” She trotted up the stairs and was gone a few moments later.
Hammer Strike simply gave a soft chuckle as he placed the dagger into its newly ornamented and engraved sheath. Silver ivy leaves curled around the blade in a protective embrace. “One day, I could see you being a great smith if you keep at it,” he said softly to himself as he carefully polished each leaf and pulled out a set of engraving tools.
Vital scuffed anxiously against the stone floor with his hoof. Cadence had said she would be back, but waiting like this made him feel more and more nervous, not to mention bored. He sighed heavily. “I hate waiting,” he grumbled. He kept tapping his hoof and pacing until one of the stones accidentally depressed under his weight. “... Oh crap.” The sound of grinding stone echoed relentlessly through the hall as the many doors slowly began to fill up and disappear, leaving behind less and less until they reformed into a new taller archway with a Minotaur-sized door. “... Alrighty, then. Wonder where that goes.” Against his common sense and better judgement, Vital Spark approached the new doorway, slowly creaked it open, and peeked around the corner.
A Multitude of wooden tables stood off to the far right, each cluttered together in a clumsy semicircle and bedecked with all manner of colorful vials and beakers filled with various fluids, powders, and other ingredients. A circular set of steps led down into the center of the chamber, where the royal seal of the Princesses resided. In the middle of their yin-yang symbol, the crystal heart shone prominently. Far on the other side of the room, stacks of books piled up on the floor around a single table where a gold filigreed mirror embedded with emeralds, rubies, and sapphires waited to be used alongside some old scrolls. To the left, Vital’s eyes widened as wall upon wall of books towered on massive shelves, stretching back for several yards, the great black mahogany shelves still shining as if it had not aged a day. The scent of parchment and fresh paper hung heavily in the room, and Vital couldn’t help but smile as he breathed it in. Memories of some of his favorite books entered his mind as he reminisced, recalling how he sat down in a comfy chair by the public library on Earth and read for hours. He savored the memory briefly, then snapped back to the room again.
“... Is this what I think it is?” Vital asked as he cautiously stepped forward. The door instantly slammed shut behind him, shoving him the rest of the way into the room before it slowly faded out of existence. “... Crap.”
“Is ... is this working?” a voice echoed through the lab as the light in the room seemed to be drawn to a single central point, forming an ancient-looking bearded Pony wearing a hat and cloak with bells.
“Starswirl? Starswirl the Bearded?” Vital asked, slightly frightened. He prayed this wasn’t a security system. He wasn’t nearly advanced enough to even begin to try to take on a master magician like Starswirl.
“Good, so you can hear me, that is, if this message is playing, then you can indeed understand me. I am Starswirl the Bearded,” the wizard said, “and you are either a particularly gifted thief, or you somehow managed to get by my warding seal.”
“That would be the latter.”
“Before we go further, I should inform you that responses to your statements will be conditional. I wasn’t able to think of a way to transfer my personality to this construct, so all responses are pre-recorded.”
“Makes sense. So is there a reason why the door slammed on me and disappeared, then?”
“You may have triggered the failsafes. Do not be alarmed if the door slams shut and vanishes. Once your intent has been confirmed that you are not here to do evil, you will be released. And If you are in fact evil…. well, I sincerely doubt you can survive three hundred thousand degrees kelvin, now can you?” he chuckled.
“Whoa, Starswirl, a little dark, don’t you think?”
“I don’t play around,” Starswirl’s projection answered bluntly.
“Fair enough. If you’re as powerful as history says, it makes sense you’d want to protect your research from anyone and everyone who’d want to steal it.”
“Now, being that you are still alive, I take it you are not here for evil, so don’t be afraid to ask if you have a question.”
Vital paused a moment and pondered his options. “Is this your real lab?”
“I’m sorry, my responses are limited.”
“Alright, can you tell me about why you have a fragment of the Tree of Harmony hanging outside the entrance to your wing in the palace?”
“You’ve been to the tree?” the construct asked.
“She’s my friend.”
“I’m sorry, my responses are limited.”
“Okay, let me try this again. Yes, I have been to the tree.”
“Well, I’m shocked anyone else managed to get to it. I’d originally put this in as a joke, as I’m sure you can tell by my tone of voice.”
“So you don’t have many more reactions for this line of conversation, then.”
“I’m sorry, my responses are limited.”
“So what can you talk about?”
“I’m sorry, my responses are limited.”
Vital Spark groaned. “We’re just going to keep doing this all day aren’t we?” he muttered to himself. “Alright, you made the ward as a failsafe in case anything happened to the empire, right? What were you safeguarding?”
“I couldn’t allow Ambrosia to get anywhere near my research.”
“Who’s Ambrosia?”
“Archduke Ambrosia Orchid is the first cousin to Queen Blood Orchid. I suspect him to be plotting against the Crystal Empire’s royal family, though I have no direct proof.”
“Any guesses as to how he’ll accomplish the plot?”
“Dark magic,” Starswirl responded. “I suspect he has already found a way to steal the crystal heart. With it gone, he will be able to use dark magic to kill the queen and her family and ascend the throne.”
“What are the typical signs of this dark magic?”
“In small doses, it can cause the eyes to take on a green hue with purple irises, and trails of vapours run off from the eyes themselves. The horn may also experience bubbles of dark energy and black or red electrical-like discharges. Over long term use, however, the horn takes on a deep red tone and begins to curve upwards. The vaporous runoff eventually gives up for simple green and purple eyes.”
“And these symptoms can’t be hidden?”
“They only show during the use of dark magic,” Starswirl explained.
“Sounds like Sombra,” Vital said, shrugging. You’ll be happy to know he’s been dealt with.”
“I’m sorry, my responses are limited.”
A thought occurred to Vital Spark. “Did you know Grif, Hammer Strike, and Pensword?”
“Yes,” Starswirl responded, “though Grif and Pensword are only recent acquaintances.”
“What can you tell me about them?”
“Lord Hammer Strike is an Earth Pony noble who is possibly older than any other known historical figure. With appearances dating past the pre-unification era, he’s vanished and reappeared through time, usually when he’s needed. Commander Pensword is a Thestral-Pegasus hybrid hailing from the tragic duchy of Mountainside Falls. He has a sound tactical mind, and made his name taking the Gryphon Military fort, Triumph, a feat that was thought to be nigh impossible. Grif, son of Graf, was a Gryphon mercenary born in the Northern Isles just after its secession from the Gryphon empire. He is the only Gryphon known by history to have taken a stand with Equestria during the war, and has shown himself to be an apt commander in the grounds of guerrilla warfare. The three of them form a nigh unstoppable juggernaut.”
Vital put a hoof to his chin for a time. “Will this recording replay any time I need it to?”
“No.” The answer was simple and blunt.
“Well, that’s a bummer. I wanted to bring Clover here. She’d have liked to see you again, I think.”
“Is she well?”
“It was touch and go, but she’s alright. She’s teaching me now, actually.”
“Please, I know you owe me nothing, but if you can, tell her I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“She’ll know.”
“I think I can do that.” Vital smiled and nodded. “But before you go, I do have a couple more questions to ask. First of all, what were you working on in here that was so important? And secondly, how do I take down that barrier you set up, anyways? And thirdly, how do I get the door to appear again?”
“Please do not bunch up your questions.”
“Okay, so what were you working on in here that was so important?”
“I was working on my hypothesis regarding separate worlds and the veil between them.”
“I can see why that would be so important to protect. Okay, second question. How would I go about taking down that seal you set up?”
“If you could pass through the barrier, then likely you alone can remove the seal,” Starswirl answered.
“But how?”
“Pull it down.”
“The bark?”
“You’re not simple, are you?”
“I have no experience with magic, Starswirl, except what little training I’ve received from your student.”
“I’m sorry, my responses are limited.”
“Of course they’re limited!”
“I’m sorry, my responses are limited.”
“Starswirl,” Vital growled, “please, give me exact instructions to pull down the barrier.”
“Remove the bark powering the barrier, and you’re done,” he said slowly.
“Does the bark have any magical defenses I need to worry about?”
“It’s made from the tree of harmony’s bark. Why would it need defenses?”
“Because the tree is sick.”
“I’m sorry, my responses are limited.”
“Alright, so last question, how do I get the door to reappear?”
“It will come when it feels like it.”
“So it’s sentient?”
“Well, that's the thin…. power gone, goodbye,” and the figure promptly vanished.
“Oh no he didn’t,” Vital Spark said, his horn igniting as he stomped his way towards where the door used to be. “If you don’t open in the next five seconds, so help me, I will blow you open myself, and I can do it, too,” he growled threateningly. The door promptly reappeared, hastily opening itself. “And you’d better be there when I get back,” he said, eyes narrowed as he stomped back up the corridor to the barrier. He then proceeded to pass through said barrier to face a very shocked Cadence, the flat expression of Hammer Strike, and a very angry looking Grif.
“Are you okay? The old coot didn’t have anything in there, did he?” Grif asked.
“Starswirl just trolled me,” Vital grumbled.
“That is his specialty. What’d he do this time?”
“... He called me simple.” He frowned. “Just because I asked a few clarifying questions.”
“There, there,” Grif said, patting Vital Spark’s head gently before letting out a snort. “The- the truth- the truth can be painful,” the Gryphon managed to get out before he started laughing.
Hammer Strike grinned at the statement. “What was the answer to all your questions?”
“This.” Vital Spark concentrated and a blue stream of magic emanated from his horn to touch the bark. With some effort, he managed to finally dislodge it, causing the barrier to slowly dissolve downwards as he seized the fragment. “So, you guys want to go in or not?” he asked as he looked back at the others. “Uh … Cadence, are you alright?”
“But, but Twilight couldn’t even move it!” Cadence shouted, gaping at the archway.
Vital Spark shrugged. “Maybe it’s because I talked with Starswirl’s recording?”
“Recording?” Cadence asked.
“Yeah, a magical projection with pre-recorded answers based on certain parameters of questions an individual could ask,” Vital clarified.
“So, where do we have to take the Death Star plans?” Grif asked him, still caught in his laughing fit.
Cadence just stared, confused.
“None of those. But what he was working on could be just as dangerous. He’s got a whole new branch of magic in there, guys: interdimensional travel.”
“Then I should probably have those notes locked away,” Cadence said. Her tone implied she knew more than she was saying.
“Over my dead body. I’m taking those notes,” Hammer Strike said firmly.
“But these are highly ... dangerous.” Cadence’s words left her as she caught the dark stare on Hammer Strike’s face. She sighed heavily. “Okay.”
“And that’s why he’s the boss.” Grif sighed, his laughing fit finally petering off before getting to his feet. “Let's get this done. I’ve got to have dinner finished soon. It’s an important night.”
“The lab’s down this way,” Vital Spark said, waving a hoof for the others to follow as he led them down the newly revealed hall.
“What's in this room?” Grif asked as they passed a doorway on their way. “I don’t remember this when I visited him.”
“That reminds me. Why didn’t you guys tell me about Ambrosia and what you did?” Vital asked.
“It was a thousand years ago. You expect us to remember everything?” Grif’s voice shook as he closed his eyes, his heart racing as he struggled to hold back the rage at Sombra for the crimes he had committed. “I’m going to check this out,” he said, perhaps a bit more brusquely than he would have liked as he dodged the question entirely.
The room was mostly empty, but seemed to be an office of sorts with a large mahogany desk that held only a single piece of paper. The Ponies of that era must have had a peculiar fascination for the wood. The paper itself was covered in what seemed to be a picture of hoof markings.
“Okay, that's really really weird,” Grif noted as he folded the paper and placed it in his bag for later before doing one last check around and moving back to join the others.
“Find anything interesting?” Vital Spark asked.
“Questions for later,” Grif responded as they headed for the lab.
“Well, here we are.” They stared at a blank wall.
“Um … Vital Spark, that’s a wall,” Cadence said.
“It’s right here. Just dissapeared is all. I figure it’ll rematerialize eventually.”
“Maybe Hammer Strike should make a new door?” Grif suggested. In a flash, the door appeared before them and swung open.
“Hmm … why am I getting a feeling of dejavous from this?” Vital asked.
“Omni, we have a laboratory full of magical goodies in front of us. Concentrate, man!” Grif said as he headed for the room.
“Just be careful. If you get too greedy, I’m pretty sure Starswirl’s defenses will kick in,” Vital warned.
“Starswirl’s lab. I don’t think I’ve been in here since …” Cadence sighed and shook her head. “Too long.”
“It looks just the sa--oh yeah, time travel.” Grif sighed. “I spent some time here. Even a Gryphon had a lot to learn from him.”
“It’s a pity I didn’t get the chance to meet him,” Vital said. “I’d like to get to know his less jerky side.” He glared daggers at the central seal where the hologram once had been.
“You might have been decent acquaintances,” Hammer Strike replied from his position at a desk ahead of them, his muzzle buried in papers.
“So the first things we want to find are Starswirl’s notes on interdimensional travel, right?” Vital asked.
“Already got them,” Hammer Strike replied, still reading.
“Anything of interest?”
“A few documents making comments on the magical construct that you saw earlier.” He looked to Vital. “So, how many invalid questions did you ask?”
“... Too many.”
“Don’t feel bad; after two, he designed the spell to make his responses became sarcastic and sassy.”
Vital groaned. “... Why do I get the feeling you’re the one who suggested that feature?”
“Nope, but if it was me asking those questions, he apparently made the answers straight forward. Primarily because I would break through and survive any traps anyways.” He looked back to the paper again. “Grif and Pensword would have gotten… same responses you would have gotten, but with a higher clearance level.”
“So he would’ve been nicer to them, but because he didn’t know I’d be there, he didn’t prepare anything that would fit me. Can’t beat the logic there, I suppose.”
“Nope. He would have said the same things to them. It’s just by his math, they would have asked seventy percent less invalid questions.”
“I’m a thorough guy, okay?” Vital whined.
“No, Pensword’s thorough. Going by this, you're just paranoid,” Grif said scanning the sheet over Hammer Strike’s shoulder. “That's literally how he describes the levels.”
“His answers are straightforward… What did you need clarification on?” Hammer Strike questioned.
“Whether there were any extra protection spells around the bark. Its magic flowed into the arch, but that doesn’t mean it would protect the main seal itself. At least, that’s what I thought might be the case.”
“I told you that Aunt Celestia couldn’t breach the barrier. Did you think taking away the seal didn’t occur to her? Why would it need additional protection?” Cadence asked.
“... I don’t know. I just thought all its power would be focused on the doorway and not on itself.” He sighed and blushed deeply. “That was kinda stupid of me to assume, wasn’t it?”
From one of the book shelves, a book flung itself at Vital Spark’s head. “Ow!” Vital rubbed a hoof against the point of impact. “Who threw that?”
“I know I’m going to regret this, but response to what?” Vital asked as he gingerly lifted the book.
“A response to…” he scanned the page a bit more. “Lack of magic knowledge, level Gamma.”
“To quote a certain fiery Unicorn, ‘convenient.’”
A wet towel slammed into Vital Spark’s head next.
“Fire suppression,” Hammer Strike read casually as another wet towel flopped against Vital’s head.
“You have got to be kidding me!” Vital’s horn sparked as he levitated the towels off his head and threw them onto the floor with a violent smack.
“I’ve got the whole list right here,” Hammer Strike commented. “Very long list…”
“... Starswirl’s Magic for Dullards?” Vital Spark yelled.
“Wow, first edition copy, too,” Grif said. “And signed. Twilight’s going to be so jealous.”
“Dullard. Otherwise, you would know it as dummy, idiot, dummkopf,” Pensword said as he entered the study. “Wow, I never got to get into this area before. I only got to be in his guest lab.” He smiled as he walked up to the others. “So, what did we find? What secrets do we have to dollop out in small little tastes?”
A sudden burst of streamers and confetti rained down on Vital Spark, sticking to his mane and fur while a banner dropped down from above. “Congratulations on admitting you’re an idiot. Now comes the first steps to knowledge.”
“Wow, Starswirl was cruel, but had an interesting sense of humor,” Hammer Strike commented, still reading the paper.
“This explains so much about Clover,” Grif said.
“... Tell me about it.” Vital sighed. “Starswirl, can’t you just cut me a little break? I’ve had enough excitement for one day.”
“So, is this system sophisticated enough to send any necessary information we might ask for at Vital Spark’s head?” Grif asked. “Like, say, The Winds?” Grif lifted a talon as a book slammed into his palm at head level. “Yeah, sorry, old timer-” another one slammed into his head from the other direction.
“Please tell me no books will be flying at my head,” Pensword muttered, raising his wings defensively. “I have to ask this. Do you have anything for me?” In response, a tiny piece of paper slowly descended from the ceiling and landed on top of his head.
“Sorry, I have nothing for you, Pensword. You know what to do.”
“So,” Pensword continued, “what spells do we have access to?”
Hammer Strike looked up from the paper. “Phrase, surprise.” Confetti burst from the ceiling above everyone, followed promptly by a cupcake. “Well, he was at least prepared for Suprise, if she ever got in here…” he shrugged.
Pensword’s eyes grew misty. “I miss my Commandant,” he whispered. Then he snorted. “Hammer, you are hiding something, so I am asking again. What is the research that was so important he locked it up in here?”
“Plenty of things. Golemancy, documentation on the work of Circlet (keeping that for her), dimensional gateways, arcane runes, conduits, magic constructs for spectral images of recorded messages,” Hammer Strike flipped to the next page, “snarky responses for automated response system, a recipe for nachos…” He shrugged. “Crystal manipulation, notes on Comic, warnings for Parchment, a strong spell to make the documents in this room fireproof and make them ignore wind damage, and an extra codex of encryption for Pensword.”
“That is good to know. I think we need to test that nacho spell soon, and--” Pensword paused before contining with a perfectly level tone of voice. “Did you say dimensional gateways?” A collective chill traveled down the party’s spines.
“Yep,” Hammer Strike said, unfazed. “Though highly unstable on set locations, even with his knowledge. He only got a bit farther than the book I got has.”
“Then I want research started on detecting other gateways into this world. If Starswirl was working on this, then others might be working on it, too, and they might not be as gold-hearted as he was.”
“Impossible. You can only find thin veil locations at best,” Hammer Strike commented, still reading.
“Yes, but if we can detect an incoming gateway, we can be ready to greet whatever comes through.”
“Can’t really detect them. It was by luck that we arrived in a location near Ponies.”
“I think you need to stand down here, Pensword,” Grif said. “This seems too dangerous for us.”
“Yes, I know it is dangerous, but if I stand down, how can I defend this nation? This is my purpose, and I need to.”
“Pensword, military code 6656 states that in the condition that it involves a volatile magical field, you defer to the expert. Defer to the expert, or I am going to find Lunar Fang.”
“I know,” Pensword muttered, “but you guys, I have to. We have been through too much not to hide my worry here.”
“There is nothing we can do but prep for the worst,” Hammer Strike said, flipping through another set of pages. “Which is what we do normally.”
“We always do,” Pensword answered, “which makes me feel happy.” He giggled. “I’ve even been working on a modified War Plan Red.”
“Well, on a lighter note, don’t you guys think it’s time for us to enjoy our vacation now that we’ve got what we need from the lab in the first place?” Vital Spark asked.
Grif’s eyes widened. “What time is it? I need to get back to the kitchen and finish dinner.”
“I got more work to do,” Hammer Strike commented, still reading.
“I think I am going to visit the library and, oh… I was to find your husband, Cadence. I have some things I need to talk to him about.”
“Okay,” Cadence said. “I’ll have some scholars come down and help sort everything.”
“Trust me, he doesn’t have that much stuff down here. Though some of it, I would suggest only sending trusted scribes down for,” Hammer Strike replied. “Other than that, I shall be keeping some of the more… sensitive material.”
“Duly noted,” Cadence said. “I’ll make sure they’re loyal and discreet.”
“Well, I’ll see you guys later,” Grif said as he hastily strolled out.
“Oh, by the way, guys, when you get the chance later, we need to talk. I’ve had the absolute weirdest day today,” Vital said as he walked casually with the others, levitating his copy of spells to study from later.
“You mean the weirdest day you have had?” Pensword teased back. “Because I think we can,” He paused. “Yeah, I can give you some time, most likely around dinner. It sounds like a nice dinner table discussion.”
“Sure. As long as we’re all together. Let’s just say it has something to do with dragons and riders and leave it at that. I’ll fill you guys in later.”
“Sounds good,” Pensword answered. “See you at dinner.”
Pensword walked the hallways of the palace. He was amazed to have been given such freedom in the halls of power, and unsure of what to do. He frowned at one train of thought before shaking his head clear of it. He looked up and spotted his target. “Prince General!” he shouted, having learned his full rank thanks to one of the local guards. “Might I have a moment of your time?”
“Ah, Commander. You know you can just call me Shining, right? You and I are roughly the same rank,” Shining called back as he slowed down, allowing Pensword to fly to his side. The Pegasus stayed in the air as they continued on their path. “I was heading to the kitchens to sneak some ice cream from Alto if I can.” A strange look overtook his muzzle. Pensword guessed it was due to the fact that Shining’s brother and sister-in-law, and even his wife, were much older than he had thought. “Well, what is it you needed to ask?”
“I was thinking about opening up some officer training slots for the Crystal Empire Military to attend. I think Cadence would enjoy the three months of classes to get to know Moon River better, and Lunar Fang, too. Meanwhile, I get to put you through some new paces. Still, at the moment, the broken Crystal Army is the most raw source of training, information, and potential I can have access to. I have Gryphons to tap, and the Demon Slayers, but I have to think of the future, and hope to grow the ties between the Crystal Empire and Equestria.”
“Touché. However, Pensword, you need to calm down.” Shining put a hoof on the hovering Pegasus’ shoulder. “The war is over. We’re at peace, and you’ve secured an ally on the Gryphon Throne. You can breathe, take it easy, and maybe take up a hobby. How about wood carving or surfing?” He chuckled. “Maybe writing poetry? I know some soldiers who paint. Get a hobby that isn’t military related.” He turned to the kitchen. “For your own good and your wife’s peace of mind.” He paused. “Well, maybe for the peace of mind of your troops. If they see their commander actually doing a hobby that isn’t directly tied to your profession, it will show you’re more than some bigger-than-life warrior. You need to find a balance.” He smirked. “Doesn’t help that your first reaction to new spellcrafts is to think of a means to counteract them.”
“You heard about that?” Pensword chuckled. “Well, I cannot help myself. I have to be ready for the worst. You were ready.” He sighed. “As a soldier and warrior, we have to be the watchmen on the wall to protect our citizens from harm.” He looked to Shining. “I cannot help that. I literally grew up to fight, to wage war against the enemies of both my tribe and my nation.”
“Then how about a trade?” Shining replied with a smirk. “You teach me your war games, and I’ll teach you some fun tabletop gaming.”
Pensword raised a wing. “Well, that is an odd choice, but I think that is a fair trade.”
“Good.” Shining’s smirk widened to a grin. “I’ll have your character sheet made up for you by the time we start our first training session. And no, you don’t get to create your first character. If you’re going to put me through grief and pain, I’m going to do the same with you. You need to learn to think outside your comfort zone.”
Pensword pointed a wing to Shining, about to object. He closed his muzzle, opened it, closed it, then finally spoke. “... Touché.” He sighed as he lowered his wing in defeat.
Shining chuckled. “Come on. Let’s get some ice cream before Cosy and Alto finish it all off.”
Three days later, the group made their way slowly towards the train station to greet the royal car from Equestria. Grif smiled widely with his wings wrapped around his two wives. “What time are they supposed to be here?” he asked. He and Avalon seemed to have trouble keeping their eyes off each other for too long.
“Well, I heard the train whistle; however, with how flat the land is, and the snow, I think they are ten minutes away,” Pensword replied.
“You can hear ten minutes down the track? Dang, Pensword,” Conor said as he stood by the platform and messed with the part in his hair.
“He has a way with trains,” Grif said.
Moon River giggled as she flapped her leathery wings. “Luna,” she spoke. “Sunny.” She giggled as she nommed a bone happily, the beginnings of fangs starting to push through her gums.
“Sounds like someone’s excited,” Conor said as he smiled down on the little foal.
“Uncle Perch!” She cried as she flapped and jumped from Lunar Fang to sit on top of Conor’s head, giggling madly.
Conor chuckled goodnaturedly. “You know, you’re starting to get a little big, kiddo,” he said, laughing. “Don’t worry, I can still hold you a while longer. After all, that’s what all this training’s been for, right, Grif?”
“You’re getting there.” Grif smiled “Sort of makes you have a new respect for ancient humans, huh?”
“I always did. This just adds to it.” Conor started to tickle the little foal, making her break into a fit of giggles as she flailed her wings.
Grif smiled as he saw the filly laugh. “Kinda makes you excited for the future, doesn’t it?” he whispered to his wives.
“You have no idea,” Shrial said as she kissed her husband on the cheek.
“Took the words right out of my mouth,” Avalon said as she followed suit.
Grif said nothing, but chuckled as he hugged them closer.
Hammer Strike stood in the back, mostly to himself. Mostly, because of Alto, who was currently sitting on his back.
“So you can make better metals by mixing other metals together?” the filly asked him, fascinated.
“Certainly. For example, you can make a strong alloy called eclipsed steel from a combination of lunar steel and celestial steel. Two variants of it, actually,” he explained.
“But won’t the weaker metal make the whole thing weaker?” she asked.
“Both metals actually reinforce themselves in the process.”
“That’s awesome!” Alto squeaked adorably.
Hammer Strike’s eyebrow twitched as a strange feeling went through him, but he couldn’t help but grin. The filly continued to question him about metalworking and the forge as they waited for the train. Soon they all could hear the engine chuffing through the barrier, steam hissing and smoke puffing as the brakes squealed into the station. The train reached a standstill and a small group of guards exited the cars to flank a red carpet, standing at the ready to greet the Princesses as they exited the car.
Luna exited the train in her full battle armor with her Ursa fur cape draped dramatically behind her. The helmet was not on her head, but buckled to her side, and Meteor Impact was secured snugly to her back. Celestia was her total opposite, only wearing her usual regalia; however, Hammer Strike grinned as he noticed Solaire strapped to her side.
Pensword smiled with his eyes as he snapped to attention, presented his weapon, and yelled. “Attention!” The guards stiffened in surprise at the sudden bark.
“Good morning, my faithful high duke,” Luna greeted Pensword with a bright smile. “I trust you have been enjoying your vacation?”
“We have, High Chieftess,” Pensword answered as he dropped his stance. His wings brushed against Lunar Fang’s and Fox Feather’s sides. “Princess,” he nodded his head to Celestia. “I thank you for this vacation.”
Luna’s eyes widened slightly as she noticed Alto on Hammer Strike’s back. “Teacher, I see you and Princess Alto seem to be getting along well.”
“We certainly are. She’ll make a fine smith one day if she keeps at it,” Hammer replied.
“Of course,” Luna said. She gave Grif a nod of acknowledgement.
Grif returned the nod respectfully.
“It’s good to see you, your majesties,” Conor said, smiling at the princesses.
“Hello, Conor, it’s good to see you’re doing well,” Luna said.
“It’s been a nice break after all that training,” the human replied. “I even got my fortune read.”
“Oh? And what did it have to say?” the solar diarch asked, raising a curious brow as she smiled indulgently.
“I uh … wanted to save that for later, actually. It’s kinda personal.”
“... Fair enough. And how is little Moon River faring?” Celestia asked as she approached Lunar Fang.
“Oh, you know, teething, playing.” A suction cup bolt hit celestia on the horn. “Performing tactical operations. Kids’ stuff.”
Pensword couldn’t help but giggle at the scene. “Careful,” he whispered before breaking out in yet another giggling fit.
Celestia picked the suction cup off her hoof, examined it, then looked up at the station roof, where a tiny shadow crouched with a tiny crossbow. The alicorn princess smirked as her horn glowed and a suddenly shrieking and giggling Moon River found herself hovering in front of the Princess of the Sun. “Hello there, little one. I think you dropped this,” she said as she handed the bolt back into Moon River’s hooves.
Moon River took the bolt with a grin and moved to hug the snout of the Princess. The guards stiffened at the physical assault that was happening. She giggled as her eyes glinted in the sun. “Boop,” she cried, repeating a word that her parents spoke to her on many occasions.
“She really is adorable,” Celestia said as she placed a hoof gently on the filly’s snout and then removed it.
Lunar Fang beamed with pride at the action. “I know, and, thank you for humoring her, but I think it’s time to start teaching her who not to shoot. If we don’t now, she might get the wrong ideas later on.”
“I’m sure you and Pensword will do a fine job.” Celestia smiled and nodded as she hovered Moon River over to her mother. “Grif,” she said, turning to face the clan leader and his wives. “I see Shrial’s coming along nicely. How long do you have left?” she asked.
“Two months and a week,” Grif said with pride as he nuzzled Shrial.
“You’ll make a good father with your protective instincts,” Celestia said, though her smile grew a little less as she spoke.
“I hope so,” Grif told her. “I really hope so.”
Shrial elbowed Grif in the ribs. “What my husband means to say is that he definitely will be. Our girls are going to be some of the best warriors this world has ever seen.” Grif smiled at her appreciatively as he nuzzled her again.
“And I see you haven’t changed a bit, Shrial.” Celestia laughed. “It’s good to see you. I’d better see some pictures when you finally give birth.”
“We’ll see, Celestia. It might not hurt you to get off your cushy throne and come visit us yourself, you know.” A collective gasp came from the guards.
Celestia blinked in surprise, then started laughing. “You know, you should be careful what you wish for. I might just do that, assuming I don’t have certain secretaries working for Blueblood trying to keep me away.” She looked apologetically at Luna.
“I sometimes wonder why Blueblood even tries,” Hammer Strike commented.
“Because he’s a jerk,” Conor said. Everyone stared at him. “What? Everybody knows that.” He shrugged.
“Wait, I thought Twilight said she and the other elements were coming with you,” Grif said. “What happened?”
“You know the elements. They each had their own preparations to make. They’ll be here on the next train or so; a day or two at the most,” Celestia said.
“And you know Twilight. Normally, she would keep to the schedule of arriving with you,” Hammer replied.
Pensword shook his head. “Then it is a good thing that I helped change the orders a little.” He paused as the others stared at him. “I would rather not have Twilight going crazy trying to impress you. We are all on vacation, and frankly,” he snorted, “the others need time to pack. Not everyPony has a set of luggage set aside for a trip to Canterlot, let alone the Crystal Empire.”
“So, Twilight will be arriving a little later than the rest of us. We want to make sure everything is ready for her first summit. It can be a little overwhelming for a new princess. Isn’t that right, Cadence?” Celestia asked.
“It’s only more so when you're a queen,” Cadence said with a laugh.
“We’ll start by having her observe the meetings so she understands how diplomatic sessions are conducted, then start to integrate her into the proceedings.”
“For now, why don’t we work on making sure her first summit goes without any unforeseen incidents?” Cadence asked.
“We’ll discuss that in private. Right now, I’m guessing it would be wise if we get to the palace before a riot starts.”
“I hope you two have your masks prepared,” Cadence said with a smile.
“Oh, it’s been ages since my last masquerade,” Luna said cheerfully. “I’ve been preparing for months. Just wait until you see my dress.”
Pensword’s eyes went wide. “My first noble masquerade!” he said, looking almost as giddy as a cadet passing muster for the first time. “I wonder… I’d better go hunting for a mask and outfit,” he muttered, a mad gleam in his eyes. He immediately ran out.
“Okay, Cadence, how many Gryphons are in the Crystal Empire right now, honestly?” Grif looked blankly at her.
“Don’t worry, Grif, I’ve thought of that. You’ll see when you get there,” Cadence promised.
“What about the rest of us? We don’t have anything to wear,” Conor said.
“Rarity will have a few hours. I think we’ll be fine,” Grif replied.
“You really think she can pull all those together in just a few hours though? That’s a lot of costumes.”
Grif looked at Hammer Strike and, to Conor’s surprise, Hammer Strike actually let out a small chuckle. “You obviously don’t know Rarity well enough,” Griff laughed.
“... I guess not. You guys always did know her and the others better than I did.”
“There will be time for you to get to know them better later. For now, let us get to our quarters. Moon pies await!” Luna said before regally speed-walking towards the palace.
Deep within the crystal palace, in a dark and dusty room, a bejeweled mirror stood atop a two-tiered platform. Ancient paintings, photos, crystal pillars, and various figurines were scattered across the room, collecting dust. The great double doors near the ornately decorated mirror were closed and locked as a brief ripple passed over the mirror’s surface. A few moments later, a hoof passed through, holding what appeared to be a long rectangular piece of metal. Its surface glowed and a tiny red light blinked within the white as the hoof turned it about the room. Then, without warning, it swiftly retracted back in, casting further ripples across the surface of the mirror. A minute later, a large series of silvery-white ripples crossed over the the mirror’s surface, spitting out a cautious-looking yellow Pony with red and yellow highlights running through her mane and a red and yellow sun for a cutie mark. A pair of saddlebags hung on her sides as she took in her new surroundings.
“This… isn’t canterlot,” the mare noted, looking around. Taking a few clumsy steps forward, she reacquainted herself quickly with four-legged locomotion before making her escape swiftly and stealthily. By the time the new guard detail had arrived, it was as if nothing had changed. As the mare made her way through the crystal palace, finding herself getting lost more than once, she pilfered a plain black cloak from one of the spare coat rooms. Keeping the hood low to cover her face, she eventually found her way out the front of the castle. She needed to find out where she was and where the element of magic was hiding. She only hoped it was close enough that she could get it and get back in time.
Much to her surprise, she was surrounded by a massive crowd of shimmering Earth Ponies, each going about their business as some bartered for masks while others pulled costumes off of racks with a flourish. Not too far off, a massive heart-shaped blue crystal pulsed within the main square, its energy flooding into the streets and the building it stood beneath.
“Excuse me,” she said, pulling up to one distracted Pony casually. “I, um, just got off the train. Whats happening?” she asked.
“Why, we’re getting ready for the Royal Princess Summit, of course.” An elderly looking light lilac crystal coated Pony with a set of horn-rimmed glasses and a light green crystal hat with a pink ribbon stood before her, positively beaming with enthusiasm despite her advanced age.
“Why would Princess Cadence and Princess Celestia need a summit?” Sunset Shimmer asked.
“You mean Queen Cadence, dearie. And don’t forget Princess Luna, and of course, our newest Princess, Princess Twilight Sparkle. Oh, so much has happened. And to think, it’s only been about a year since she and her friends recovered the crystal heart and saved us from King Sombra. Oh, how rude of me. Let me introduce myself. I’m Amethyst Maresbury, the royal librarian.” The librarian extended a hoof.
“The… the Crystal Empire?” Sunset Shimmer felt her eye twitching beneath the hood. “Um ... thank you,” she said in the most authentic, nice voice she could come up with. Then she shook the mare’s hoof before walking away. She was in the Crystal Empire, which was apparently ruled by Princess, no, Queen Cadence. On top of that, there was a new princess, this Princess Twilight Sparkle, whose name definitely seemed familiar. Hadn’t that been one of the heirs to House Sparkle before she left? How did she end up a princess? And since when did Princess Luna return? She was supposed to be banished to the moon, trapped without a way to turn back to what she had been before. How did she get changed back? Sunset shook her head. Those were questions for later. Right now, she needed a way to scope things out and find out just who the element of magic was. It was customary for one hosting a meeting of royalty to host some kind of reception party. Judging by the masks, Queen Cadence was throwing a carnivále for her Ponies, so it was likely the elite were to be invited to a masquerade. She scanned the crowd, looking for a noble.
“Are you honestly telling me that this trash is the best you have to offer?” A snooty victorian voice demanded. “Scandalous! Upper Crust, don’t waste your time here. We’re taking our business elsewhere.”
Sunset smirked as she moved in a somewhat clumsy manner towards the pair of Ponies. They were obviously nobility judging by their puffed-up manner of speaking and flashy clothing. Making a show of stumbling, she careened right into the mare who was complaining. “Oh, sorry,” she said.
“Watch where you’re going,” Jet Set snarled as she readjusted the poofiness of her purple and white streaked mane. Her dark green eyeshadow caused her eyes to smolder as she stared Sunset down. “Honestly, is noPony civilized in this backwater dump?”
“Beg pardon, my lady,” the mare snivelled as she backed off into the heavily crowded streets. The moment she was safely immersed into the crowd, a sneer replaced the fear on her face. She pulled the large rose-colored invitation from under her cloak and scanned it quickly, confirming the information on it. “There’s one born every minute,” she joked to herself as she withdrew a sizable wallet of bits from under her cloak as well. “Thanks to her ladyship’s generous donation, I think it’s time for me to go shopping.”
The dining table was a long, rectangular surface. On the north side, a small golden sun shone brightly, just peeking over the horizon that was the table’s edge as its rays extended over polished redwood, giving the impression of a sun rising. Celestia sat on a somewhat larger chair, smiling at the depictions as memories from happier days flooded her mind. On its southern end, a silver crescent moon curled, its points curved inwards towards the center as the a polished black wood glinted in the torchlight like obsidian. Tiny flecks of silver embedded into the wood substituted the stars. Luna smiled as well as she looked to the center of the table. Two effigies met in the center circling one another, one of Luna, the other Celestia as their wings spread out, their eyes closed in serenity. A small glass crystal heart acted as the perfect centerpiece while the friends gathered together and sat, awaiting their meal. One chair remained empty between Shrial and Avalon. Grif had chosen to oversee the cooking to ensure a flavorful meal, and to exchange recipes with the other chefs. As the friends all sat together, a white light pulsed gently at the table’s core, slowly increasing in intensity until it shot into the centerpiece. A miniature aurora wove its ribbons over the dinner guests’ heads. Occasionally the lights would coalesce to form the shapes of various Ponies and other creatures as they ran, flew, or swam across the ceiling.
Pensword looked about in awe. “This is amazing.” He paused to look at Lunar Fang. “How did they make it dance like this? And without any whistling.”
“I think it’s magic,” Lunar Fang said with a cheeky grin.
“Indeed it is,” Luna said, smiling at the crystal gem. “Celestia and I used to come to this villa quite often when we were younger. Starswirl worked with a famous alchemist named Caring Circlet to create the prism you see before you.”
“I remember Luna and I used to play for hours with it, creating little armies, playing games of chess. The possibilities are limitless as long as you can guide the magic properly,” Celestia said.
“Oh?” Pensword asked with a gleam in his eyes. “I like the idea of little armies. I wonder, is this the only one, or did she make more?”
“Perhaps Queen cadence would allow you to use it for the betterment of Equestria’s military,” Luna said, smiling good naturedly.
“While that is a fun idea, I would rather not take this item from the Crystal Empire,” Pensword returned.
“So, if I wanted to, I could make a chessboard right now and start a match?” Vital Spark asked.
“It certainly sounds entertaining,” Avalon said.
“I’ll play you,” Pensword said, grinning at Vital. “I have not played a game in a couple of weeks.”
“No games at the dinner table,” Grif chided as he entered the room followed by several Crystal Ponies carrying an assortment of covered trays. They swiftly began placing the dishes before everyone. Grif made a point of placing Fox Feather’s and Celestia's himself. “Dinner tonight will be chicken cordon bleu sided with scalloped potatoes and mixed vegetables. For our other friends, I have prepared fettuccine pasta with a fish alfredo sauce. Breadsticks are available in the baskets in front of you. I hope you all enjoy.” He smiled before moving to his empty seat. “And there’s plenty of each left over if anyone’s still hungry,” he said, giving Pensword a wink.
Pensword grinned lopsidedly, his eyes shining with joy. “That’s good to hear.” Not even a moment later he grimaced from using a contraction, even as Lunar Fang kissed him on the side of the muzzle and giggled.
Luna looked at the breaded chicken curiously, taking a moment to sniff it. “It smells strange,” she noted before using her knife and fork to cut a small chunk and carefully brought it to her muzzle, biting it and chewing thoughtfully. “The chicken is very flavorful and well cooked, but there seems to be something else within. Another meat. Perhaps … is that ham? Oh, that is most clever. And what's this? There is yet another flavor within the ha-” her irises shrunk to pinpricks. “Is this cheese within the ham that is within the chicken? TRULY THIS IS A MEAL OF LEGEND!” Luna exclaimed, partially slipping into the royal canterlot voice.
Pensword coughed into a hoof to hide a laugh. “Oh, heavens above. I dare not think what she would do with Gooducken or a Turducken.”
“Uh, Pensword, what exactly is a turducken?”
“I’ll tell you later,” Pensword said, eying Luna meaningfully as he moved to eat his own cordon bleu.
Hammer Strike simply continued chewing quietly on his pasta, listening to the conversation.
“I haven’t had this since I was a cub,” Avalon said as she bit into the mixture and smiled. She moaned in ecstasy. “What cheese did you use, Grif? And did you season these breadcrumbs yourself? Something is definitely different.”
Shrial was carefully raising the fork to her beak, though her arm trembled and her eye spasmed from the effort of restraining herself. “I think I’ll be taking you up on that offer for more, Grif.”
“You know, I’m not usually a fan of fish, but this time, it’s actually pretty good.” Vital smiled as he levitated his fork to his mouth, chomping and happily swallowing.
“Well, technically, while it’s not bad for you, fish isn’t exactly part of a Unicorn’s diet.” Grif looked towards Hammer Strike. “Or Earth Ponies either.”
Hammer Strike simply took another bite without a care, a flat expression on his face.
“So, you guys want to hear about my little adventure in the town square now?” Vital asked.
“I do,” Pensword answered after he swallowed his bite of scalloped potatoes.
Vital Spark looked up at the lightshow above. “Maybe I can tell you and show you. Celestia, how did you say we could manipulate this thing again?”
“You use your magic and your emotions to shape it into the image you want, then direct it as you see fit.”
“So I just have to concentrate?”
Celestia giggled. “Pretty much.”
Vital Spark closed his eyes as his horn began to glow. The aurora in the sky began to twitch and shift, then, gradually, it coalesced into the shape of the town square. Soon, the tent and its owners appeared, as did a miniaturized form of Vital Spark. “So, my adventure has to do with a rather special mare and her cat. See, she had an interesting quirk about her, and a great sense of humor. She was pretty upfront and honest with me, too. She said she basically faked fortunes to Ponies because they couldn’t handle the truth and didn’t want to hear it.” The image of the mare in question waved her hooves over a crystal ball before smashing it and laughing. “After that, she mentioned how for … certain travelers, she’s willing to give a proper reading.” A large pouch appeared out of the ether, opening to reveal a sparkling, swirling vortex. “A reading that Taze, Shawn, and Matthew will likely find very familiar.” The vortex solidified into chunks with glowing runes and markings before a hoof grabbed them and flung them into the fire of the ethereal camping ground. “She used dragon bones.”
“The future isn’t set in stone,” Grif responded, grim faced.
“So?” Pensword asked with a raised eyebrow. “No being knows the beginning from the end.” He gave Vital a glare. “You know what I am trying to say.”
“She didn’t give me a direct prophecy. Well, she gave me a choice at least.” And with that, he related the prophecy in its entirety and what the mare had said, finishing with the telepathic advice he had received from the cat. “She never admitted it, but I’m pretty sure I know who that Mare was. And … I’m more than a little worried about what that means, especially the line about sealing fate.” He shuddered as for the briefest of instants, a bipedal figure replaced the mare, winking at them mischievously while the cat nodded its head before they blinked out of sight. The light on Vital Spark’s horn faded away.
“Reading the magic from dragon bones ...” Luna said. “It sounds almost like necromancy, but not quite.”
“Vital,” Pensword began, “I would agree with Luna. This seems strange and worrisome. Still, you do not set your life to what random mares say.” He frowned. “You go forward, and do not think about that. We have lives to live. Others will act. You will act. For all we know, this prophecy may invalidate itself.”
Hammer Strike continued eating.
“I know. I’m just worried at what cost,” Vital said as he slowly began to eat again. The flavor was gone. It felt more like mush in his mouth.
“Vital, I have learned to just let things flow. Do not worry. There are things you can worry about and change, and things you cannot change.” Pensword narrowed his eyes. “Why am I telling you this? This feels like something you would say to us.”
“... Because I’m scared,” Vital said, his head bowed. The rest of the meal passed on in relative silence.
Hammer Strike sighed to himself as he sorted through the documents left behind in Starswirl’s lab. He hummed, separating one document from the rest as he thought on one question.
“Hammer Strike?” Grif asked as he entered the room, scanning the surroundings.
“Yes, Grif?” Hammer Strike asked, sorting another paper to the pile to his left.
“You remember that small office I looked at before? Well ... I found something.”
“The strangely empty one that was most likely another scientist’s?”
“Not sure why, but even holding onto this makes me feel uncomfortable,” Grif said as he handed over the sheet of paper he’d found. “It’s old hoof writing. You know a bit of that, right?”
“Some of the servants at my old manor wrote like that, yes,” he said, grabbing the paper as he read it outloud.
“Entry Seventeen,
Dark, darker, yet darker. The darkness grows in the child, soon to be uncontainable. The shadows themselves are cutting deep. And yet… Readings are a negative. But this next test seems very, very promising.
What do you two think?”
Hammer Strike ran his eyes over it a few more times. “It doesn’t contain a signature. No name.”
“I know you aren't one for outward emotions, so forgive me if I ask, but does that sound half as creepy to you as it does to me?”
“You don’t even know the half of it.” Hammer Strike gestured to the sorted documents on the desk. “Starswirl was writing these documents almost daily with another Pony, but one day, he stopped mentioning him. The name in each paper is blurred or plain gone.” He looked back to Grif. “Not a trace of who it was that worked with him. The closest name I could get was that of a flower not native to here. Comes from the line of Daisy.”
“So Starswirl erased this guy from his notes? That doesn’t seem like him. He was old and bitter, but not that bitter.”
“But from the way he wrote things, he somehow forgot the Pony as well.” Hammer looked back to the entry. “Perhaps… something happened.”
“Yes. Well, the type of things that can happen that can wipe someone from the memory of a wizard like Starswirl aren't nice things.”
“The darkness grows in the child…” Hammer Strike hummed. “Ambrosia?” He asked aloud, looking at Grif.
“Starswirl did suspect he was up to something.” Grif nodded.
“Perhaps he wasn’t alone in suspecting that… only, he didn’t get caught.”
“That’s a sad thought. Some poor soul was practically erased from memory for trying to help.”
“Not only wiped from memory, but physically as well, I think.” He paused, looking towards the door.
Grif’s talons instinctively reached for one of his blades. “You feel that?” he asked.
“Who’s out there?” Hammer called out. “Cadence?”
Nothing answered them but the eerie silence of the empty laboratory.
“I wonder who the third person was,” Grif said, breaking the silence.
Starswirl mentioned sharing his notes with an old friend; an old hunter who helped gather pelts and such from large, dangerous creatures in this arctic land,” Hammer Strike replied. “Jäger.” He hummed. “Isn’t Jäger still around?”
“And there’s Germane.” Grif smiled to himself. “He was too old to get involved in the raids, but he was the lead guard in the underground,” Grif noted. “I honestly would have taken him, but he seemed the best Pony to defend everyone.”
“Perhaps we should talk with him at some point. Might be an interesting conversation.”
“If I recall, he’s retired now. Lived in a house near the outskirts with his caretaker,” Grif noted. “Probably better to visit him at night. The old bat’s practically nocturnal now.”
“I wouldn’t let him hear you say that.” Hammer gave a soft chuckle. “I still remember how you tried to spar him.”
“Hey, I lasted against that scythe-sword-thing of his longer then most have. If I remember correctly, he nearly took you down one time as well. If he hadn’t had arthritis problems, he may have even won.”
“Complain all you want.” Hammer gave a grin. “Let’s go. I got the documents I needed from here, and I keep getting this odd feeling.”
“Yeah, let’s get out of here. I feel like we’re being sized up or something,” Grif said as they stalked out.
Behind the duo, he watched quietly, unable to speak, and unable to interact, a fragment that soon found itself falling apart without a thought to guide it.
“Twilight's first princess summit! I’m excited. Are you excited, Rarity? Because I’m sooooooo excited!” Pinkie Pie said as the train drove towards the empire.
“Pinkie, dear, calm down. You’re worrying Twilight,” Rarity said as she scooted over to the lavender Alicorn. “Now don’t you worry, Twilight, everything’s going to be just fine.” Spike was busy trying to fan Equestria’s newest princess as she struggled not to hyperventilate. “Personally, I can’t wait to see--” she sighed dreamily “--Hammer Strike.”
“Yeah, yeah, we all know you're excited to see your coltfriend.” Rainbow Dash rolled her eyes. “You’ve been going on about being ‘finally re-united’ for four days!”
“Oh, don’t worry, Dashie dear, I forgive you. You’ll understand once you get a coltfriend of your own.” Her smile suddenly flattened. “Err … eventually.”
“Well, I’ll just be glad to get back home again. Poor Big Mac gets stuck with all the chores when I’m gone like this,” AJ said.
“I just hope it’s nothing too serious. Because if it is, it might mean we all have to travel even further away from home, or we have to travel to solve some major problem that only we can solve, or…”
“Twilight,” Spike spoke up with a nervous look. “You’re going to hit your head on the roof again.” He pointed a clawed hand to where the princess hovered. Twilight looked up, and true to Spike’s warning, her horn hit the roof. She laughed nervously as she closed her wings and landed hard on the cushion again.
“Sorry.” She chuckled softly. “I’m just so nervous.”
“Um … I hear deep breathing exercises can help,” Fluttershy said, raising a helping hoof. “I like to do that whenever I have to leave Angel Bunny behind. I always miss him something awful.”
Twilight composed herself and began to do just that, casting her mind back on some of the exercises Cadence had taught her. She began to calm down, her mane, tail, and fur settling back to normal. They all felt the train come to a stop, brakes screeching as the engine hissed. A few moments later, a set of guards approached the train car door and held it open.
Twilight stepped out nervously first, followed by the rest of the girls as Rarity looked into the gathered crowd. “Hammer Strike!” She galloped over and immediately proceeded to hug him. “Oh, it feels like forever since I saw you last. I missed you so much.” Tears pricked up at the edges of her eyes.
“Hello, Rarity,” Hammer Strike said. In an instant that shocked the entire crowd into a combined gasp, Hammer Strike pulled Rarity forward into a kiss, a chaste kiss, but a kiss nonetheless. Rarity blushed red as the two of them remained locked for nearly a full minute before separating. “I missed you as well.”
“... Wow.” Rainbow Dash looked on, shocked. “Didn’t see that coming.”
“... Are we sure this here’s the real Hammer Strike?” Applejack asked as she eyed the lord skeptically.
“Want to try a test of strength to determine it?” Hammer questioned Applejack.
“I reckon I can manage that.” Applejack smirked.
“Applejack!” Rarity glared at her friend. “He’s my Hammer Strike. He’s not a changeling, and that is final. I absolutely forbid you to wrestle with him.”
“What changeling would be dumb enough to try and replace Hammer Strike?” Pinkie asked.
“She’s got a point, girls,” Vital said.
“Come on,” Grif said uneasily as the crowds began to grow. “I think we should get you all over to the palace before we’re swarmed. Rarity has her work cut out for her tonight anyway.”
They heard a small shout as Pensword rose into the air. He glared down at the crowd. A moment later, Lunar Fang jumped into the air with him as they looked at each other. The crowd wouldn’t stay at bay for much longer.
“Come on, guys, all I have to do is tell them to back off. They’ll listen to me,” Spike said, buffing his claws against his scutes.
The crowd immediately cheered loudly and pushed ahead all the harder to see their hero.
“Oh … hooooo-boy.” Spike flinched back as the mob of Ponies ran forward.
“EveryPony, hold on!” Twilight yelled as her horn glowed a bright purple. In a flash of light, there was no sign of the legendary heroes or the royals. Only the guards stood by the train in a stupor as they stared, wide-eyed into the rushing mob before they collided.
Vital sighed as he passed through the halls of the castle. After Spike’s unfortunate blunder, the celebrities and he himself has been completely confined to the crystal palace. With little else to do, he had chosen to probe the depths of the great crystalline structure. He hummed to himself to try and pass the time as he looked within each of the doors to the spare rooms. There wasn’t much to see here except the patrol as they passed through the halls with their old fashioned head lanterns. At last, he opened a tall set of double doors to reach a musty old room filled with figurines and a strange looking mirror. “What have we here?” Suddenly, he found himself flat on his face as something hit him from behind. “... Oww,” he said as he got to his hooves. Before he could fully recover, something blunt and heavy came down on his head. The last thing he remembered was a glimpse of yellow and red.
Vital Spark slowly came to with a throbbing headache. He shifted under the sheets, then pried his eyes open. He groaned.
“Nyah hah hah! Oh, goody, you are awake!” A very loud and nasally voice spoke, which did not help Vital’s throbbing head.
“... Ow … could you please keep it down? My head is killing me.” He felt a small hoof patting his head, applying something.
“Excellent idea, Cor! That is sure to help.”
“... Where am I?”
“I found you knocked out inside the palace, so I brought you to my brother Comic’s house to help!”
As Vital’s vision cleared, he saw a picture taped to the wall, It was a foal’s drawing of three stick Ponies. A small white Pony with orange and blue in his mane was labeled “Daddy.” What appeared to be a foal stood in the center with the name “Cor,” and a larger white Pony with an orange mane labeled “Uncle Parchment.”
“Yes! I take it you met him already?”
“... Yes. On the platform at Ponyville Station. He was getting off.” Vital Spark put a hoof to his head and frowned. “Thanks for the help, but … do you think you could help me get to a doctor’s office or something? My friends will be really worried if I don’t get in contact with them somehow.”
“Fret not, for I, Parchment, shall go to fetch a doctor for you. Cor will stay here and keep watch!”
The small yellow filly simply gave a salute and an adorably serious expression. As she gave the salute, Parchment flung the door open and charged out, the winds closing the door behind him.
“So … your name is Cor?” Vital asked as he forced himself to sit up. The filly nodded in response.
“Nice to meet you.” He extended a hoof and missed Cor by about a foot.
Cor simply grabbed his hoof, moved it in front of her, and tapped it with her own, a grin on her face.
“Oh … great. I have a concussion.” Vital rolled his eyes and giggled briefly as the room swam around him. “Uh … Just keep my head up and don’t let me fall asleep, okay, Cor?” Cor gave another salute in response.
“... Thanks.” Vital said as he started to slump in the bed. Cor promptly threw a glass of cold water in his face.
“If I remember correctly,” Hammer Strike commented, pointing towards the house ahead of them, “that should be his place. … Unless he moved. But knowing him, he didn’t.”
“Off on his own, check. Unimposing house anyone wouldn’t look twice at, check. Creepy beyond all reason vibe you get as you get closer, check. This is definitely it.” Grif nodded.
“Considering he prefers being by himself, it makes sense why he would have a house this far out of town. Then again, I think I remember someone living with him; a housemaid. Can’t remember her name though.”
“It was something Germane as well. I just can’t remember what,” Grif noted as they made their way towards the sagging front door.
“Doesn’t help we only talked to her once before we had to go.”
“So, you going to knock?” Grif asked as they stopped before the large heavy wooden door.
Hammer Strike simply raised his hoof to knock, only to have the door open with a shriek of a creak, revealing a light tan Unicorn mare with a white braided mane.
“Hello,” she said.
Hammer Strike lowered his hoof. “Hey, I take it you saw us coming?” She nodded.
“We need to speak with Jäger,” Grif said.
She nodded again. “I’ll take you to him. Please, come in.”
The duo entered the old building. Its boards had been painted a dark faded blue as its shingle roof sagged in. Its walls bulged out ever so slightly as a series of tiny planters with light blue-leafed plants accented the place, giving it the only sign of warmth. At the house’s foundation, a series of cold, thick mortared stones were covered in damp hanging moss while black ivy grew up the sides of the house. A series of chimney stacks jutted into the sky like tuberous teeth with one single jagged tooth stretching into the night as smoke wafted from it. The mare led them to an open room with a fireplace and a few chairs, one containing the stallion they were looking for. He was wearing an old coat and wide brimmed hat that covered most of him. He had a grey coat with a black mane, which was mostly covered by his hat. Leaning at the side of the chair he sat in was a large curved, solid, heavily worn blade. It had been dented and scratched over the years from many previous battles. Strangely enough, it was all forged from a single piece of steel. Leaning on his back against the back of the chair was a long folded wooden staff.
“What brings you two back?” Jäger asked. “Up for another hunt, are you?”
“Nice to see you’re doing well, Jäger,” Grif said.
“Of course I’m doing well.” Jäger frowned. “I’m not an ‘old bat,’ as you put it. It’ll take more than some Pony with dark magic to kill me.”
“Yeah, about that, so Starswirl suspected Ambrosia’s experimentation with dark magic, and it seems you were in on his suspicions,” Grif noted. “We had some questions.”
“Knowing you two, you’ve already been in Starswirl’s lab, so I don’t see what answers I could possibly have for you,” Jäger responded.
“What about your third friend?” Grif asked.
“...Third?” Jäger questioned. “You mean Hüter? I don’t think she was mentioned in any of his notes.”
“I think we both know we don’t mean Hüter,” Grif said coldly as he stared levely at the old stallion.
The old stallion shrugged. “I don’t know who you’re trying to talk about. Could you be a bit more specific?”
“He wrote in hoof speech,” Hammer Strike commented. “Kept logs like Starswirl.”
The stallion hummed. “I think I remember who you’re talking about, but I can’t remember his name…” he frowned. “What was it…?”
“That’s what we’re trying to figure out,” Hammer Strike replied. “We only found one log of his. The rest are gone.”
“I swear, I can remember Starswirl’s apprentice more than I can remember his name…” He sighed heavily. “I remember some things about him, but not much.”
“Such as?” Grif asked.
“He had an eye for detail. He worked with a relative of his on some projects and spells.”
“Do you remember anything about him personally?” Grif asked. “Mane? Eyes? Coat color?”
“Very determined. I think he damaged his hoof in one of his projects. Nearly had a hole in it, but he was able to get it patched up. I think he mentioned something about his right eye being light sensitive.”
“And his relative?” Grif asked. “Anything you can recall about him?”
“He had an affinity for gravity-based magic. Not much else.”
“That all you can remember?” Hammer Strike asked.
“Sorry, but yes.” Jäger sighed. “Is there anything else you two want to talk about?”
“You and Starswirl worked together for a long time, right?” Grif asked. “Did you know Clover?”
“Not very well. Only in short passing.”
“Well, she's back. Just figured it was right to let someone who knew Starswirl know, since we couldn’t tell him.”
“It’s good to hear she’s well. Last I heard, she had an incredible poison killing her. I take it you two found a cure?”
“In a way, yes,” Hammer Strike said urbanely as he rubbed a hoof casually against his coat.
“Well,” Grif said, “we’ll let you get back to ... whatever it is you do now. For what it’s worth, it’s good to know you’re okay.”
“Just like it’s good to see you two aren’t dead.”
“That's probably the nicest thing you’ve said to us,” Grif noted.
“Now get going before I throw you out myself. I was just about to get to work on my equipment.”
Extended Holiday Ch 78: Through the Looking Glass Act 10
“Thank you so much for the help, Doctor Cerulean,” Vital Spark said as he drank another glass of water. “As much as I appreciate Cor and Parchment’s help, I think I prefer not getting a glass of water flung in my face every time I start to fall asleep.” The Unicorn sat straight up in bed, the familiar green of hospital curtains comforting as he thought back to New Unity and working with Little Willow in the infirmary.
“It’s no trouble at all, I assure you. You’d be surprised just how many patients Parchment brings in on a weekly basis,” a deep sky-blue Crystal Pony in a doctor’s lab coat said as he rolled his eyes.
“Well, at least this time it wasn’t his fault, right?”
“I wouldn’t be surprised if he was somehow involved,” Doctor Cerulean said as he ran a glowing crystal over the Unicorn. For the most part, the crystal remained clear with a gentle white pulse, but as it approached the head, it switched to an ugly purple. “Just as I suspected,” he said, putting the crystal back into his lab coat pocket. “You, sir, have a very serious concussion. Whoever it was that knocked you out wanted to be very thorough, indeed. Hold still.” He reached a hoof up to prod at Vital Spark’s head.
“Ow!” Vital Spark winced.
“Yes, several bruises and contusions across your scalp, and particularly near the horn. You’re going to be inflamed and woozy for a few days. Tell me, what’s the last thing you remember before you returned to consciousness?”
“I was exploring the Crystal Palace. I’d never been here to the Empire before, and Princess Celestia and Princess Luna ordered us on holiday. Since I’d already visited the square and the crystal heart, I wanted to see what else might be around. I was just poking into some sort of storage room when I … well, I’m assuming that’s when it happened.”
“What do you recall from that moment?”
“Pain.” Vital moved to rub a hoof against the throbbing in his skull, only to feel a strong crystal hoof pull it down.
“You musn’t touch. Not until your body has had the time it needs to heal.”
“And make sure to keep sitting up straight and not fall asleep for what … twenty-four hours?”
“No, we just need to keep you for observation and make sure your condition remains stable. It’s surprising how many ponies make that mistake when they’re brought in.”
Vital smiled sheepishly. “Guess I misremembered. It has been a few years since my last first aid training. I think … about twelve or so?”
“A first aid program focusing on some of the more difficult aspects of Pony accidents? At that age? I’ve never heard of it before. Still, that might not be such a bad idea,” Doctor Cerulean mused.
“To be fair, it’s hard to get others to focus in on it, just like normal schooling,” Hammer Strike commented as he entered the room. “The trick is to get the attention of the class, which health tends to not.”
“Hammer Strike? How’d you find me? I don’t remember asking for someone to get you. … Did I do that, Doctor?”
“No, no, you’re fine, Mister Spark. None of my staff reports you making any such request. Your memory is still intact.”
Vital Spark sighed in relief. “So how did you find out I was in trouble?”
“Parchment isn’t exactly quiet about what he is doing,” Hammer replied. “Grif will be here in a moment as well. Parchment had some things he wanted to talk to him about.”
“Why the look?”
“Grif gave him a task awhile back. He now wants to show him how good of a job he was doing.”
“What was the job?”
“I asked him to watch over the east wall of the large cavern we held up in within the crystal mines. And no, there weren’t any caves in that area. It just seemed like a task that would keep him happy,” Grif answered as he entered the room.
“Is Parchment with you right now?” Vital asked.
Meanwhile, down in the crystal mines...
“Nyeh heh heh! I can’t believe Grif gave me a promotion! The west wall, Cor!” Parchment could hardly contain his glee. “I get to watch the west wall now. That’s closer and closer to being an actual guard of the streets!”
...Back to the hospital.
“... I gave him something to do.” Grif shrugged.
“Good. I’d hate to cause offense, but does he seem a bit … overly flamboyant to you?”
“He is incompetent, loud, obnoxious, and by far one of the most annoying people I have ever met.” Grif nodded. “But he is also sincere and kind. He sees the good in positively anyone, and he’s one of the best damned uncles I’ve ever seen. I couldn’t exactly tell him he couldn’t help during the rebellion because it would break his heart.”
“You know, if Shrial and Avalon were here right now, they’d be all over you for being so romantic.” Vital Spark smirked. “I always knew you had a soft spot, Grif.”
“I have plenty of those. That’s what the armor’s for.” He chuckled. “The point is Parchment will grow on you, and, provided he’s not stuffing his god-awful spaghetti down your throat, you’ll find it hard to do or say anything that would hurt him.”
“Well, I guess we could always ham it up with him sometimes. I know a certain Gryphon with dramatic tendencies.”
“Drama is fun.” Grif smiled. “Besides, you know the world would be so dark without me.”
“Of course. We need the wind to blow away all the storm clouds, and you’re the biggest bag of hot air we’ve got.” Vital smirked. “And if you need a little help … well, I might be willing to jump in from time to time.”
“I’ll keep that in mind. Meanwhile, I’ll go see the other docs, see if there’s anything to sign to get you out of here,” he said, walking off.
“Thanks, Grif.”
The three heroes plus one friend were gathered in the main hallways dressed up for the coming Masquerade. Each smiled at the other, masks in hooves, with the exception of Vital Spark, who fumbled with his gold crystal-encrusted cape and suit. He felt like a prince, and that made him nervous as the cream of the fabric and the gold of the crystal worked together to create a bold impression reminiscent of a certain white knight from an anime involving a silver crystal and a star-crossed love. Pensword nodded to Lunar Fang, who had dressed to accent her bat wings with black gossamer, using pages from the horror books in the Crystal Empire library for inspiration. She slid down her blank white mask. When she turned to face the others, the eye holes were completely empty, blacker than night, and showing no hint of the eyes looking out from behind. She laughed, her voice altered by the mask’s glamour to sound male. “This is going to be fun.”
Pensword nodded as he slid down a golden lion mask while dressed in an outfit that would have been more suited for Baron Blueblood with its gold trim, silver buttons, and lavish folds and lapels. His voice sounded much deeper than normal, with something that would remind a certain group of another masked villain who hid behind a black helmet, but the whole image was ruined by the propeller hat on his head.
Grif stood up straight, wearing a large black long-tailed suit coat with a rusty-red vest and waistcoat beneath. A large red silk tie was tied around his neck under a pressed white collar. His talons were covered in sheathed white cloth gloves. He slid a mask over his face made of polished aluminum. It moved carefully to hook around the right side of his beak and the bottom of his face while leaving the left side of the face under the eye exposed. His crest had been slicked back into a ponytail.
Avalon wore a white silk dress bedewed with clear, smooth gems handpicked by Rarity herself. A silver circlet woven in branches adorned her head while a blue mask bespeckled with sapphire and other water related gems covered her beak. On her left hand, a single glowing ring shone with a brief illumination charm. Her voice flowed out like the ushering of many waters through rivers and streams. “Shall we press on, my love? The festivities await.”
Shrial wore an ornate ball gown covered in pearls, the silver and the tiers designed in such a way to disguise the size of her body and any weapons she might choose to carry on her person. Her mask was designed with a hood of feathers, trailing backwards to form the illusion of braided hair. The mask itself was a fiery orange like the sun as she turned to her husband. “Yes, shall we, my angel of music?”
“But of course, my lovelies.” Grif smiled as he wrapped them in his wings.
Hammer Strike wore a white suit and tie with a black dress shirt for contrast. A charcoal-black mask sat on his face, carved to resemble a skull.
The rest of the mane six looked on with their coronation dresses and simple masks designed to follow their cutie marks and backgrounds.
“Absolutely breathtaking if I do say so myself. And I do because I designed them,” Rarity said, giving herself a thorough pat on the back. “But Vital Spark, why aren’t you wearing your mask?”
“... People are going to laugh.”
“Oh, come on, it can’t be all that bad.”
Vital Spark sighed as he pulled it on. A sudden cascade of Spaneish guitar chords played mesmerizingly. His voice came out with a hispanic accent. “Now, my friends,” he drew a blunted sword from its sheath at his side and pointed ahead. “Group up. And hit it till it dies!” he groaned and pulled off the mask as Grif struggled not to laugh outright. “Then there’s the other setting our lovely princess over here decided to add.” He tapped a jewel on the Mask’s pinnacle and put it on again, this time bowing to Rarity. “Are you unharmed, my lady?” he asked, his voice a perfect impersonation of the most ingratiating noble.
Rarity squealed with delight. “Oh, Twilight, it’s positively perfect!”
Twilight blushed, rubbing one forehoof against the other foreleg. “It wasn’t that hard to do. It was just a simple voice modification spell blended with a minor glamour. Basic magic 101.”
“I liked the first one better,” Pensword muttered behind his mask.
“So, Twilight,” Rainbow Dash said, adjusting her mask. She wore her gala dress with a modified faceplate from an old royal guard helmet. “What’s with you and that Pegasus guard?” she asked, nudging her friend teasingly with a hoof.
Twilight could only blush and look around, spotting Fox Feather as she walked into the room. She was dressed like an Arctic Fox with horse shoes made to look like paw prints. Her mask was lupine in design and the glamor spell on it turned her eyes a hypnotic yellow with black irises. Her dress was made up from light white faux fox fur and the train of the dress was made to be more akin to five tails to mask her own. “Why not talk to Fox Feather? I heard she’s dating the Commander,” she said quickly, trying her best to change Rainbow Dash’s attention.
“What?” Rarity’s eyes widened as she eyed Fox Feather. “Why, darling, why didn’t you tell me?” Rarity asked, scandalized. “Why, I would have made that costume far more majestic had I known. Oh, and now it’s too late. Of all the worst things that could happen, this is the worst possible thing!” Her horn glowed as a giant couch muscled its way over just in time for her to faint on it.
“It’s pefect,” Fox Feather responded, raising a hoof in protest. Her voice changed to have a slight accent to it that was hard to place. “I like the pun on my own name, to be honest, and I do feel like a rather,” she cleared her throat, “foxy princess,” she admitted with a laugh that sounded much like bells mixed with a sharp bark.
“Come on, everypony, let’s get to the party!” Pinkie yelled exuberantly, cutting off all options for further conversation as she stretched her hooves around the whole group against the laws of physics and proceeded to push them all forward. The great hall had been decorated with the four colors of the princesses: white, blue, pink, and lavender. Flowers were tastefully wrapped around the main pillars in combinations of two of the four colors as large silk banners hung from the ceilings. Only a few Ponies had been allowed in at the time, and they seemed to be mostly staff as they ran to and fro checking decorations and inspecting tables laden down with food. Cadence stood near the center of it all giving last minute instructions. She wore a shimmering gown of rose-colored silk with a simple red and gold mask that covered the top of her face, reaching up to the base of her tiara. The costume was further enhanced by the crystal effect of the empire, giving her a rather stunning form.
Grif managed to stop Pinkie moments before she reached the dessert table by grabbing her tail. “Well, your majesty, things certainly look regal here.” He gave a short bow.
Pensword paused and looked about the hall. “I do agree, I have to say. I hope this will be as fun as the party happening around the base of the castle.” He chuckled softly, his modified voice sending chills down the collective Ponies’ spines save for those who knew what he was referencing.
“Oh, it will be, Pensword, I can promise you that.” Cadence smirked. “Unfortunately, the princesses won’t be able to participate so well, except maybe for Twilight. Our magic destabilizes the field of the spell. But since Princess Twilight is still adjusting to her new Alicornhood, she should be able to dance without revealing herself just yet.” Cadence winked to the purple Alicorn. “Make sure to have fun. Maybe find yourself a handsome stallion?”
Twilight turned beet red beneath her mask.
“So when do we start?” Vital Spark asked.
“The gates open in a half hour. Until then, feel free to enjoy yourselves. The glamour will activate as soon as the gates open.”
“Oh, and Pensword, I had the chefs make you a special soup tonight,” Grif said.
“Oh? Can I ask what the soup is? Or shall it be a surprise?”
“Nobody likes it hotter.” Grif winked as he headed off in another direction.
Pensword paused before evil, uncontrollable laughter echoed among the walls of the mighty hall while the guards observed the Commander of the Equestrian Military sinking to the floor in what appeared to be a fit of malevolent giggles.
Music played throughout the great hall, echoing along the dance floor as Pony after Pony stopped at the entrance and whispered into the seneschal’s ear. “The Margravine Liselle, and her escort, Silk,” he boomed as a Pony in black doublet and hose bowed beneath his long beak-nosed mask, a playful smirk along his muzzle.
“My lords and ladies, I can honestly say that it is truly an honor to be in such … distinguished company. Why, the collective hot air in this room could provide enough lift to raise all Equestria to Cloudsdale.”
Meanwhile, the so-called Margravine curtseyed, her honey-blonde mane flowing gracefully behind her as she took her escort’s hoof. “Forgive my dear Silk. He always did have a quick tongue. I’ve been trying to get rid of that cynical streak of his ever since we were married.” She laughed as his face suddenly grew somber, much like that of a martyr. The Margravine then promptly kicked one of his legs, causing him to bite his lip as they entered the dance floor.
“Her Royal Highness, Princess Buttercup, and the Dread Pirate Roberts!” A pony dressed all in black with a black cloth mask flourished his sword and smirked.
“Will any dare challenge me for the hoof of my princess? No? Good.”
“Oh, come now, my dear, sweet Westley, let’s just enjoy the party.” The mare laughed in her white ballgown and simple cloth mask as they descended onto the marble floor.
“Well now, those certainly seemed ... familiar,” Vital Spark noted, his mask still in place as his Hispanic accent and guitar accompaniment surrounded him. To complete the ensemble, Rarity levitated a red rose into his hooves as he gave a dramatic flourish of his cape. “... I do believe I could get used to this,” he said as more than one of the single mares swooned.
“Calm down there, Casanova,” Grif told him, clapping his back lightly as he shooed a few of the mares away. “The night’s just starting, after all.”
“It’s not like I plan to make love to every girl I run across. I just want to have a little fun. Besides, were it not for this costume, this voice, I would not stand a chance.”
Grif rolled his eyes as he turned to Avalon. He reared onto his paws and tucked one talon behind his back as he offered a hand with an elegant bow. “May I have this dance, my lady?” he asked her.
“You offer it to me freely.” Her eyes danced like water in the lights. “I accept.” She smirked as she, too, rose to her hind paws and laid her own taloned hand into Grif’s. “Just don’t forget to ask your angel next.”
“But of course,” Grif said as they headed to the dance floor, leaving Vital alone.
A slow waltz played across the room as Rarity stood next to Hammer Strike, staring longingly out onto the floor.
“So, Rarity,” Hammer Strike started. “Would you like to dance?”
Rarity gasped. “Hammer Strike! Oh, I’d absolutely love to.” She kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you so much.” She then proceeded to drag him onto the dance floor as the four of them spun and twirled in time to the music.
Pensword and Lunar Fang were both dancing a slow ancient waltz that confused the newer nobles while the Crystal Ponies murmured their approval. The pair danced around the crowd, circling wider and wider from one another as they crossed the floor until Lunar Fang reached out to the mare in the fox costume and pulled her in. The fox stumbled and blushed, but Lunar Fang persevered, spinning her into the center of their circle as Pensword and Lunar Fang slowly spun closer and closer while Fox Feather looked from one to the other, swaying back and forth in a strangely synchronized dance, as if uncertain which to go towards, even as they drew ever nearer to her. At last, the pair closed in completely, their hooves connecting around Fox Feather before they collapsed in a traditional embrace at the dance’s end. A collective cheer arose from the Crystal Ponies in the audience as they clapped at the sight. The past had been brought to the present once more.
“Welcome to the family, Fox Feather,” Lunar Fang whispered. Foxfeather simply cried through her mask as the three stood there together.
From one part of the ballroom, one of the ponies wearing a flowing white robe with papier mache wings and a simple mask with a papier mache horn attached at the top. He turned to look at another of the clapping Ponies. “Uh ... what was that?”
“An ancient custom. Those two just made a proposal to add her to their herd. Isn’t it just beautiful?” A mare in a tattered blue dress dewed with sapphires at the bottoms and gossamer wings on her back said as she wiped a tear away from her eye.
The would-be-Alicorn merely hummed in response.
A sudden fanfare broke the happy moment as a flaring mare in a great poofy dress accented with artful slashes to take on the appearance of flames appeared. Two great fake golden Pegasus wings were attached to her back and covered in glitter. Her mask was covered in gold sequins that reflected the light as an almost-orange light seemed to glow from within the holes. The mask itself appeared to lick and shift like living flames with just a hint of black at its edges. The colors of a setting sun accented all of her garb and she smirked as the collective Ponies gasped at the intricately woven gold horn and bejeweled crown, causing many an envious mare to glare at her practical radiance. A large diamond at the tip of the horn indicated the beginnings of a powerful spell about to be cast. Yellow and red highlights glowed down her tail and mane like a miniature corona, a perfect touch to her interpretation of an Alicorn princess. Further gems studded various points on her dress, multiplying the effect as a dazzling array of colors beamed onto the ceiling and walls. She smirked, then a brief glow coursed up the horn and into the gem before the colors dissipated. She whispered into the seneschal’s ears, his poofy white wig and ancient dusty tuxedo implying a great deal of age, even as his stubborn and creaky voice echoed across the halls behind his mask.
“My Lady, is this correct?” He whispered in her ear and she nodded, albeit while glaring. “O-okay, then, apologies, my lady.” He cleared his throat. “Lady Solis Occasum of the Evening Sun,” the seneschal called out.
Hammer Strike’s ear twitched at the name, causing him to jerk to a halt mid-step on the dance floor. “Solis Occasum?” He hummed quietly. “Argute reperta… Sed vos iniuriam existimarent,” he finished with a frown as he scrutinized the new arrival. She quickly descended onto the dance floor and was easily lost in the crowd, though the occasional glint of light on her diamond-mounted horn helped those who were watching to keep an eye on her progress. He looked to Rarity. “I’m so sorry, but there’s something I need to do real quick. I’ll be right back.”
“But Hammer Strike,” Rarity whined.
“Rarity, not now.” What warmth had been in his eyes at the start of their dance had fled, replaced by the steely glint of a warrior bracing for battle.
“I … I’ll be waiting over there,” she said, somewhat fearfully. “It’s not too serious, is it?”
“Either it isn’t, or it’s going to be. I’ll tell you when I get back.”
Sunset Shimmer carefully made her way over to the punch bowl to get herself a drink. Keeping her head down, her horn glowed faintly with a simple warding charm. It was a simple small spell matrix that would misdirect the charm surrounding the room: small enough not to be noticeable, simple enough to keep going without much concentration, and powerful enough to keep her safe. Casually, she lifted a glass and filled it with most of her back pointed towards the crowd.
“Solis Occasum, correct?” She heard someone ask from behind her, soon followed by a dark chuckle. “Callidus…”
A cold chill followed by a burning sensation ran down her spine as Sunset nearly dropped her glass. Her eyes grew wide as she turned around, barely able to keep herself from causing a scene as she scanned the crowd. “No, no, no, not him!” she thought desperately
“An interesting name, considering it’s origin… Tell me, Sunset, why would you need to hide your name through a language not native to Equestria?”
Unable to locate the source of the bone-chillingly familiar voice, Sunset Shimmer scanned the crowed carefully, locating a Unicorn she didn’t recognise who was clearly alone. She put her glass down and grabbed his hoof. “You. Me. Dance. Now,” she said in no-nonsense tone.
“Watch yourself, because I have a feeling you’re going to do something you’ll regret,” the ghostly words said, even as Sunset began to tug on the Unicorn. Without waiting for the Unicorn’s reply, she pulled him onto the dance floor, her eyes darting wildly behind the concealing lights of her mask.
Vital Spark was just minding his own business by the refreshments table, getting his own drink after dancing a while through the crowd … if you could call it dancing. It was more like floundering, and he was grateful to finally have gotten his obligatory five minutes across the floor over and done with. All of a sudden, he found himself being yanked away from the glorious coolness of his refreshing beverage, leaving behind a spinning cup in midair while the beautiful mare in the Alicorn costume dragged him onto the dance floor. Wait … did he just think of a mare as beautiful? Technically, she was. Her coat was unique, almost like fire licking away at the air. And the costume design was absolutely marvelous. “I … am flattered, Miss, that you would wish to dance with me, but … I am afraid I am not very good.” He blushed, looking down to the floor as the Spaneish guitar music continued to play behind his Hispanic accent.
“Just stay calm and follow my lead,” Sunset told him as they reached the dance floor. “It’s a simple waltz, so it shouldn’t be too difficult.” Several minutes later, Sunset was sorely regretting her decision.
“Sorry! Sorry,” Vital apologized for the tenth time as he yet again knocked his hooves against Sunset’s shins.
Sunset grumbled under her breath before stopping. She needed to keep up the act. “I told you calm down. Now take a deep breath.” He did so, she gritted her teeth, and they started again. “One two three, one two three,” she repeated softly as they slowly shifted around on the floor, her moves careful and slow so the stallion could observe them. “Slowly, carefully, don’t panic,” she whispered as they moved. After a couple more minutes, she allowed herself a grin. “Now your getting it.”
The music ended, and Vital bowed to the mare. He tapped the gem on his mask once, switching to his noble accent. “Thank you for teaching me, my lady. I wish I didn’t have such clumsy hooves, but unfortunately, I do. Might I make it up to you by getting you a drink? Perhaps some food as well? The name’s Vital Spark, by the way. I don’t think I got to introduce myself before.”
“Thank you,” Sunset said, offering a curtsey, “but I really need to go. Thank you for the dance.” With that, the mare carefully slipped away into the crowd. Vital Spark trembled as he sat down at a nearby table, taking deep breaths as he tried to slow his rapidly beating heart.
“Soon you will meet she to whom you will give your heart, but you will not know it then.” Vital shook his head violently, dispelling the haunting prophecy, at least for now. “No, no, and definitely no.”
“Everything okay, buddy?” Grif asked as he approached Vital from behind.
“I just got dragged onto the dance floor by a mystery mare, and then a different mysterious mare’s prophecy decided to bounce in the back of my head.” Vital groaned as he plopped his head on the table and laid his hooves on top. “Why me?”
“So you met a mysterious mare at a ball and then she vanished?” Grif said, turning to look at the clock. “Did she leave a horseshoe or something?”
“Grif!” Vital hissed. “You know I can’t do that sort of thing, even if it were to happen. I’m human first, and I’m going home soon. I can’t do that sort of thing with a Pony.”
“It’s a joke.” Grif chuckled dryly before deadpanning. “I do that!”
Vital sighed. “Sorry, Grif. I’m just a little … high strung right now. I just kicked my dance partner in the shins a good ten times at least. Ten times!” He groaned again.
“Could she still walk afterwards?”
“What do you think?” Vital asked, fixing him with a stinkeye.
“Then that's a plus.” Grif grinned at his friend.
“Grif, if you weren’t my friend, and your wives wouldn’t kill me immediately, I’d be sorely tempted to pluck every feather off your head and breast, then throw you into the town square with a poodle cut on your fur and tail.”
“Geez. Sorry for trying to cheer you up.” Grif sighed before turning to leave.
Vital harrumphed and nursed his mug of crystal berry juice. “Great. Now I feel worse.”
Pensword stood outside in the cool night air as the aurora danced in the night sky. He could hear the sounds of the carnevale at the base of the castle drifting on the breeze and he sighed as he remembered one of the few times he had been allowed to see the ballrooms of Baron Happy Hooves. The music was the same, with flares of the modern mixed in, but rather than causing pain, it proved a soothing balm to his mind. He breathed in and slowly let it out in a deep hiss. He chuckled at hearing his own disguise.
“Enjoying yourself?” Grif asked as he exited the room. His tone was a bit sharp.
“Yes,” Pensword started before turning to his friend. “What noble offended you?” He looked to the sky and created a sound that would possibly freeze even Sombra’s heart. He sighed. “It seems I cannot whistle properly with this … alteration.”
“No noble,” Grif responded. “I guess I just took it too far with Conor. He legitimately threatened me in there.”
“Grif, he is a Pony, a Unicorn, and a Human. He knows he is leaving soon, and he is finding that it is not so cut and dry in detaching himself emotionally.” He growled and began to remove his mask. “I sound like I am lecturing you and berating you.” Grif stopped Pensword from removing his mask as he used his other taloned hand to motion for Pensword to continue. “Anyway, Grif, how many dances has he had? How well does he know the waltz and dances of the courts with his body? He most likely has caused bumps and bruises.” He growled again. “Still, he is not fully off the hook on threatening, but we... “ he stopped and began to chuckle, disturbing a small cluster of crystal bats as they flew away, their shimmering wings chiming in the air. “This is a battlefield we are not used to. We are all high strung. The last time I was at a party like this, I was a foal in Mountainside Falls.”
“Sometimes I miss war.” Grif sighed. “War was always so simple.”
“Yes, and no,” Pensword answered. “I had the help of some higher-ups back then. Otherwise, I could have made mistakes. I could have let supplies slip, or even attacked a civilian group.” He sighed. “Grif, I am happy we do not have to fight the old ways, that all we have to remind us are these old customs and dances. If anything, when word spreads who did that courtship dance of the herd, it will make a stronger tie. I can see already that the Lunar Court is having a much quicker and easier time with the Crystal Court than the Solar Court, but time will come, time will change, and the courts of today will not survive tomorrow. Eventually, we will have a hybrid of the two: past and present to create (hopefully) a better future.”
“Maybe,” Grif said, “but there was a lot less politics back then.”
“Maybe with the Gryphons, but I assure you, politics were a little more messy in Equestria. Happy Hooves allowed the Thestrals to hunt on his land, to camp on his land, to live off it and contribute to it by keeping it healthy. His brother, on the other hoof, only wanted the wealth, to expel the Thestrals, and targeted any family that was half breed. However, he could not target families of those who had served or were actively serving in the military. Grandma told me much later that there was an entire plot behind me being expelled so my family’s land could be confiscated and given to a minor noble farming family.” He snorted and pawed at the ground. “That was the old way of doing things. I say good riddance to them.” Grif had never heard this from Pensword. Judging by Lunar Fang’s gasp as she walked out from the shadows, neither had she. Silently, she approached Pensword and hugged him with a wing.
“And yet, during the war itself, we were untouchable, not bogged down by all this pomp and infighting,” Grif said. “We did what was necessary, and the consequences be damned.”
“Agreed,” Pensword said, his voice still altered by the effects of Twilight’s spell. “Still, we must realize that this is another phase, and I look forward to it, or rather…” he tapped a hoof to his head. Grif knew who was looking forward to the politics and maneuvering to come.
“Maybe.” Grif nodded. “But I still miss the simplicity.”
“So do I, my friend. So do I.” He paused and shook his head. “Do you hear drums and chanting?” He paused to listen for a moment, his ears swivelling to hone in, but it was gone. “That was odd.”
“Gryphons always hear the drums, my friend. You’ll have to be more specific.”
“I cannot. I just... “ He frowned and twitched an ear in an odd manner. “Matthew thinks he recalls it… something about dragons…” He shook his head. “Whatever that means.”
“Well, I’d best get back in there,” Grif said. “The girls will wonder what happened to me.”
“Sounds good. I think I shall enjoy the night with my little--.” He did not get to finish as Lunar Fang kissed him. Her eyes twinkled knowingly as she wrapped her hooves around him.
Vital Spark approached the Margravine and Silk, then did a double take as he noticed the monocle trailing down behind the mask, and the wavy honey-blonde mane was clearly dyed as a few stray pink and white hairs broke through. “... Fancypants? Fleur Dis Lee? Is that you?”
“Do we know you, sir?” Fancy Pants asked in a confused tone as he regrettingly removed his mask.
“No, sir. I’m afraid I haven’t had the pleasure, but I am a friend of Hammer Strike’s. He has told me much about you.”
“How the devil would you have been able to pick us out under the effects of the charm, then?”
Vital shrugged. “I merely noticed the monocle and the stray hairs. I think you might want to find a better stylist to dye it next time, your ladyship, if you’ll forgive my boldness. But what possessed you two to become these characters?”
“We thought it might be a pleasant change. We discovered them in a series of books that were recently published by a stallion named Dagwood Endings. And since we both have a little difficulty stomaching the nobility back home, we thought this would make for a pleasant change. Besides, I haven’t been able to treat my husband like this in years, and I must admit, it is rather fun,” Fleur de Lis said, giggling mischievously at the mock pained expression that came over Fancy Pants’ face.
“Yes, quite the amazing fellow, that,” Fancy Pants said.
“Clearly,” Vital Spark said, smirking behind his mask. “He’s one of my favorite authors, actually.”
“Mine, too!” Fleur exclaimed. “We simply must get together to discuss the books later. I assume you must be from Equestria as well to know Hammer Strike personally.
“I … wouldn’t say I am a native to Equestria. However, Hammer Strike has taken good care of me after an incident separated me from my family. It would be an honor to discuss these books with you, madam, especially when I love them so much. I will make sure to send you a letter after we return to Equestria to iron out the details.”
Fleur nodded her head. “I shall anxiously await the invitation, sir.” She smiled kindly as she removed her mask.
“I don’t believe we got your name, my friend,” Fancy pants said.
Vital smiled slyly. “Now now, Fancy Pants, if I were to tell that here, then I would have to remove my own mask, and that wouldn't be very sporting now, would it?” The guitar music playing in the background yet again added a mysterious air about him as he turned with a dramatic flourish of his cape. “We will be in touch. Enjoy the rest of your festivities. I highly recommend the crystal berry punch.”
“Enjoy the evening then, my friend.” The noble nodded as his wife and the pair left the dance floor.
Vital continued to roam the dance hall for a time before taking a seat at one of the side tables. A white Unicorn stallion with a padded stainless steel mask chewed his salad slowly as he took in the crowd. An emerald green cloak surrounded his main body as glinting armored leg pieces shone in the ballroom’s light.
“Well guessed,” the figure said in a deep muffled voice.
“Excuse me?” Vital asked, startled.
“It’s not easy to guess the identities of others under the charm, yet you almost seemed to know them on sight,” he noted.
“I had a good description of them before I left Equestria,” Vital said, somewhat defensively.
“From Lord Hammer Strike?” the voice seemed so much more curious about this subject.
“Yes. He took me in after I was separated from my family by Discord. He is very kind.”
“I… see. You are very privileged. Not many ponies can get so close to Lord Hammer Strike.”
“Really? From what I’ve seen of his compound, almost everyone is. They respect him as a leader, and love him like a brother. Though, I suppose only a few really get to see his true face. Most of the time he’s guarded when he’s away from home. I can’t say I blame him, though. He’s faced so much.”
“Possibly. He’s simply a mystery to those of us who do not live close by.”
“Yeah, I noticed that. I think it has to do with all the nobles in Equestria. Everypony’s trying to get an angle on him in one way or another. Well, at least most of the nobles in Canterlot.”
“Well, then,” the masked figure said, raising from the table and turning to leave. “Enjoy your evening.”
“A moment, please,” Vital said. “Your costume’s name. What is it?”
“Baron von Groom, a popular villain from the, ahem, Power Ponies series. My servants thought it would be a most fitting costume for a masquerade.”
“It is. He reminds me of a villain from my own homeland. Farewell, sir. And thank you for the conversation.”
Rarity tugged Hammer Strike along as ten layers of magically enforced cloths lay tied around his head. She smiled as she slowly trotted across the old crystal floors and looked around the ancient tapestries.
“Just a little farther, dear. Then we can take those dreadful things off. Or you can burn them. Whichever you prefer.”
“We’ll see what comes first, hmm?”
“That’s why I enforced them with magic, dear,” she said as one of them burned away and smoke drifted up from the cloths in question. “We’re nearly there, anyways, and I have something special planned for you.”
“Can’t wait to see it.”
“That and you’re glad to be away from the crowd at the dance floor, aren’t you?” She stopped a moment and drew his muzzle to hers for a brief kiss.
Hammer Strike gave a grin as they separated. “You know me so well.”
“Only as much as you know me.” She caressed his face with her tail before pulling him further into the depths of the palace, leading him down a series of stairs before a familiar heavy creak of metal hinges caused the corners of his lips to pull up ever so slightly. “We’re here, darling.” In an instant, the blindfolds were incinerated and Hammer Strike stared at the crystal forge. One of the work tables had been carefully cleaned off and the tools hung in each of their respective places, carefully polished, oiled, and cleaned. A simple, yet tasteful table cloth reached halfway to the ground. On top of it, a large pan steamed in the middle next to a crystal decanter. Two simple steel cups lay on the table, carefully etched, but otherwise unadorned with a pair of plates. The scent of freshly cooked tomato sauce and melted cheese wafted through the room. “It’s … not much, but I hope you like it.”
“It’s perfect.” He gave her a smile.
“Really?” Rarity asked as her eyes began to water.
“You couldn’t do anything but perfection.”
“Oh now you’re just teasing.” Rarity smirked, then kissed him again. “My little sister may not be the best cook in Equestria, but I’ve managed to learn a good recipe or two over the years. I hope eggplant parmesan is to your liking? And afterwards, perhaps we can … fire things up a bit.”
“Sounds wonderful.”
“Well, then … right this way.” Rarity giggled as the pair walked to the table together, her magic shutting the doors with a certain finality before a sign materialized on the outside labeled Do Not Disturb.
Pensword looked about as the last guests left and he allowed himself some time to just let his form sag a little. “That….” he growled in frustration and removed his mask, gasping for air as his normal voice returned to everypony’s ears. “I never want to wear that mask again.” He shuddered. “It unnerved my own ears hearing my voice sound like that.” He looked at the others and then to the four princesses. “This was an interesting night,” he muttered. “Only the Solar Court was trying to find out who I was all night.”
“Could have been worse,” Grif said as he removed his mask piece from his face. “Nothing blew up, nobody died, nothing spontaneously combusted. Honestly, it was almost a boring night for us.”
“And you jinx us,” Pensword muttered.
Grif shrugged. “I think we’ll live, buddy.”
“Say, anybody seen Hammer Strike?” Vital asked, relieved to finally not have that annoying guitar accompaniment to his voice, though he did miss the Hispanic accent just a bit.
“Last I saw, Rarity was leading him off the dance floor,” Lunar Fang said.
“Oh, in that case, everything’s fine. So what’s next in our fine and busy schedule, m’ladies?” Vital Spark asked as he gave a satirical bow.
“Princesses, or Royal Highness,” Pensword growled out in annoyance.
“I think sleep,” Luna said, looking to the other three yawning princesses. “We have a long week ahead of us.” Luna looked to Pensword. “It is allowable, High Duke.”
“Of course,” Pensword answered as he bowed his head.
“So when does this summit start anyways?” Vital asked.
“Tomorrow.” Cadence yawned. “So it definitely seems like a good idea we all get some rest.”
Grif nodded as he looked to Shrial and Avalon, who were both yawning. “Not just the princesses. I think we all could use the rest. I don’t think these two will make it back,” he said in a somewhat teasing tone as he gave each gryphoness a nuzzle.
“I’d appreciate it if you three would stay here in the palace tonight,” Cadence said, thinking quickly to make it seem more for her sake than theirs. “I’d feel safer knowing you were close by.”
“I guess I’ll be making my way back to the villa by myself then,” Vital said, sighing.
“No.” Pensword shook his head adamantly. “Oh no. I am not trusting you getting home on your own. You’ll find some shiny something and go off and worry me sick. No, you are going to take one of the rooms and stay here. Besides, you still need to rest from what happened earlier.” He smirked at Vital’s confused look. “Grif told me about the concussion. If we stay, you stay.”
“I don’t want to be an inconvenience…”
“A concussion? When did this happen?” Cadence asked in a shocked tone. Turning to Vital, she shook her head. “You’re not leaving until my doctors have a look at you.”
“But I already got checked out once.” Vital practically deflated.
Pensword placed a consoling wing over his friend’s back. “But are you going to pass up on getting treated by a royal doctor? Free of charge, too. And I think you will enjoy this evening. We can have you checked out tomorrow while we are stuck in meetings all day.”
“Using me as an excuse to get out of boring diplomatic duties, Pensword? I’m shocked.” Vital chuckled, then broke out into full-throated laughter at Pensword’s expression. “Relax, Pensword, I was just joking.”
“Who said anything about being there with you? You get to be there all on your own.” Pensword’s expression swiftly turned unreadable.
Lunar Fang looked between the two before putting a hoof to her forehead. “Brothers,” she muttered. “Oh, Cadence, where is Moon River? Or did you plan on us staying here from the start?” she asked, her tone layered with a heavy sweetness. A collective shudder ran through the room.
“I may have instructed the guard to bring her to a spare room where she could sleep until you two were free.”
“Take us to her,” Pensword said.
A pair of crystal guards approached and gestured for the two parents to follow, leading them silently from the hall.
“And can we get a guide to our room?” Grif asked as another set of guards hopped to attention.
“... I guess I’ll ask for the same service? Or am I supposed to go straight to the royal infirmary?”
As Vital, Grif, and his wives left the room, Celestia, Luna, Twilight, and the Mane Six minus Rarity proceeded to head towards their own rooms, leaving the massive ballroom empty.
Pensword walked beside Lunar Fang as they clopped through the corridors of the Crystal Palace. It seemed that the pillars of the structure led both up and down, and some of the quarters provided had been set up underground. He was very pleased at that. Fox Feather trotted slowly behind.
As soon as they reached the indicated room, the guards pushed the doors open and Lunar Fang swiftly made her way through the room. At first sight, she hadn’t seen Moon River. It wasn’t until a second glance that she noticed the foal sleeping happily in the center of a large pile of stuffed animals. Letting out a sigh of relief, Lunar Fang approached the bed, nuzzling her daughter gently amongst what she could only guess were her carnevale prizes.
Pensword look to one of the guards questioningly while Fox Feather proceeded to squee and quickly moved to cuddle on the other side of the pile of stuffed animals.
“She did very well with the carnival games,” one of the guards said, answering Pensword’s unspoken query. “Of course, she also managed to charm a few of the vendors as well.”
“Charm?” Pensword asked, a worried expression forming on his muzzle as he pondered just what his daughter was learning. He might have to teach her things a lot earlier then he had first planned.
The second guard, a slightly smaller crystal mare, spoke up. “With all due respect, Commander, she is ridiculously adorable.”
“That is true. All I need to know,” Pensword answered. “As for the other parts, the carnival games… How did she win those? Even I had trouble playing a few of them earlier today.”
“Your daughter has good aim, Sir,” one of the guards chuckled. “We learned that the hard way.”
“What did you do?” Pensword asked, finally loosing a chuckle of his own. “What earned you the hard lesson?” His tone, while light, still held the weight of a father worried for his daughter.
“It seems your daughter had a crossbow on her.” The stallion laughed.
“Yes, I cannot seem to get it out of her hooves. Most likely, it is buried under that pile with her. Still, did you not read the report I had to give to any guards assigned to watch her?”
“Yes, Sir,” they saluted.
“So why is a crossbolt such a surprise to you all?” Pensword asked. “And tell me, what did she do?” He asked, using a wing to signal the narration to continue.
“Her looks are very deceptive,” the mare noted. “We didn’t even realize it was her the first time.”
Pensword saw the flick of his wife’s ear and spoke the next question, doing his best to suppress a grin. “Why? You are her guards and escorts. You should be able to spot her in a crowd, even when she is trying to be deceptive. You are not in trouble. The fact that you all survived is a testament to your prowess. Just know that you have already volunteered to be her guards for the rest of our stay here.”
The guards were unsure how to respond. They simply saluted.
“Well, what happened the first time?” Pensword repeated again.
“We were in the stands. When we turned to scan the surroundings, something hit me on the neck, but when I looked back, your daughter was sitting where we put her, looking up innocently. I stayed behind while my partner went to scan the surroundings. I turned my head for only a moment and my partner got shot in the flank. Your daughter is fast, but fortunately, not quite fast enough. I turned back just in time to catch her hiding the crossbow.
Pensword chuckled and nodded. “Excellent, excellent. You’re dismissed for the evening. Good night. May you do well, and we’ll see you in the morning.” He turned around and slowly trotted down to the head of the pile of plushies. “See what my daughter does with her mountain of prey,” he said, chuckling as he cooed over the sleeping child.
“Goodnight, Sir.” The guards saluted again before turning to leave.
Sunset Shimmer snuck silently through the halls of the Crystal Palace. The hallways were desolate and empty save for a guard here and there. Making her way through them was easy. Her earlier reconnaissance had granted her a chance to get both the location of her target as well as the movements for the guards. Carefully timing her own movements, she made her way through the dark until she reached the room of one Princess Twilight Sparkle. The plan was going perfectly. She even managed to steal the element of magic and replace it with the fake she had procured from her school. She had almost knocked over a lamp, but caught it in her magic before it landed. Unfortunately for her, in the dark of the room she stumbled and ended up smashing into the tail of the baby Dragon sleeping nearby. Sunset growled as she heard the Dragon stir before he shouted in alarm. She grit her teeth and took flight just as she heard the calls from the princess. “My crown! She’s got my crown!” Sunset didn’t look back as she heard more calls spread through the palace. The place was coming alive, and that meant she had to get out of there fast. She was surprised as the princess appeared before her in a purple flash, but only momentarily before she fired her own horn and teleported past. She was shocked for a moment, realizing her cloak was no longer with her. Looking back in her gallop, she discovered it had been nailed down with a feather-shaped knife holding it to the crystal floor. She continued to run, only to encounter a large black Gryphon standing a few feet away with a throwing blade in his talons. Sunset ignited her horn for a second time and teleported past him.
Grif swore under his breath as he took off after the mare. He had been fortunate enough to have his throwing blades on him, but was without Vigilance and Vengeance. They lay back in his room. As he continued the chase, he reached out and tore a weapon from the wall. Checking, he cursed again, seeing the plain epée. The wind picked up as he forced himself in front of the fleeing Pony, only for her to teleport once again in front of him. Annoyed, he accelerated again, this time swinging as he stopped before her. His epée hit air as her horn ignited and she teleported again. He turned to chase, only to trip as ice climbed up and covered his back paw. Grif looked to Twilight as he worked to get his paw out. “Go, go; I’ll catch up!” From behind, he heard Pensword’s wings flapping as the Thestral-Pegasus hybrid landed next to him. Pulling out a trusty dagger, he quickly began to chip away at the ice.
“Sorry I don’t have anything better,” Pensword said.
Grif managed to break the ice a few seconds later and rushed forward again just in time to see a flash of gold as something went through the mirror, followed moments later by the yellow and red Unicorn. Without thinking, he pushed forward with more speed, and his friends watched as he vanished into the glass.
Pensword froze as he saw the tip of Grif’s tail disappear into the mirror. Soon after, Celestia trotted in with Luna and the others. He sighed. “I do not see Conor. I’ll go get him.” He paused before a smile crept onto his own muzzle. “I am so going to enjoy waking him up.” He turned around and trotted out the room as he nodded to Lunar Fang, Moon River, and Fox Feather. “I’ll see you soon.”
“What in the world is going on?” Hammer Strike called out as he entered the room.
Rarity yawned right behind him. “Yes, and why did it have to interrupt my beauty sleep?”
Celestia sighed. “I’ll explain everything once everyone is gathered. It’s … going to take some time.”
“So let me get this straight. Starswirl succeeded with his experiments, created a portal to another world, you kept this mirror completely unguarded in Equestria with a minimal guard after you transferred it here to the Crystal Empire, and on top of it all, you let your prized student go instead of running after her to bring her home, which was completely irresponsible and guaranteed to bite you back in the butt, which it now has in a big way that could completely destroy the entire fabric of order in Equestria. What the buck were you thinking?” Vital Spark yelled.
“Only Grif can do that, Conor,” Pensword said, a pained expression crossing his muzzle as he listened to the triad. “Please, please show respect, as you are still the only representative we have for Earth.”
“Says the Pony that woke me up with a bucket of water!”
“You wanted me to play Revile in your room?” He asked with a smirk. “I did try to shake you, talk to you, yell at you even. Despite all of that, you still were sleeping.”
“I was recovering from a freaking concussion! And besides that, I’m not the only one who’s pissed. We’re not the only ones who’ll notice this, Celestia, and you know exactly who I’m talking about. Before Pensword’s oh-so-generous waking methods, I was in a very deep conversation with a certain mother who was very frantic for one of her children, and reaching out this far made her very, very tired.”
Pensword gave Vital a sideway glance. “Concussion or not, you were still expected to wake up when talked to. My, how times have changed.” Pensword paused and gears turned in his head. “Hold on…” He stopped, before looking suspiciously back at Vital. “We shall talk later.” He turned to look at Celestia. “Shall I pull up a squad to go after the element?”
“No, Pensword, to do so would only serve to cause fear and panic. This kind of a mission requires a delicate touch. Luna, Cadence, and I will work on crowd control and media. We’ll make sure none of this gets out. Fortunately, since Sunset Shimmer left the fake crown, we can act as if nothing is wrong and proceed with things as normal. Meanwhile, Twilight, you need to go into this new world and retrieve the element of magic. Without its power here, Equestria is virtually defenseless.”
“If that’s the case, then we’re going with her. Ain’t that right, girls?” Applejack asked.
Celestia shook her head. “No, Applejack. I’m afraid that’s not possible. The balance will already be disturbed enough as it is with one element gone. If all six of you were to leave at once, there could be dire consequences. We need you five to stay here. This is a task Princess Twilight will need to carry on alone.”
“Yeah … no,” Hammer Strike replied. “Sending someone who has no idea what is on the other side on a mission like this? Not going to happen.”
“So,” Pensword spoke up. “When do we leave?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” Vital asked.
“As soon as possible. Get your gear and return to the mirror,” Hammer Strike Responded.
“I’m coming, too,” Lunar Fang said. “Fox Feather, you and Cadence will watch Moon River. It’ll help her get more familiar with your presence.” She turned her head to glare at Hammer Strike. “I’ve missed quite enough of my mate’s adventures. I am going, and that is final.”
“I don’t care. You want to go, then get your gear as well. We’re wasting time,” Hammer Strike said.
“Lunar Fang, pack our gear. I am going to pack with Vital and get him a bug out bag for this and any future adventures.” His wife nodded and kissed him on the muzzle before taking off to their quarters. Pensword looked to his daughter. “Be nice, Moon River, and I will get you a gift from my adventure.” Moon River just booped his nose in response and smiled.
“She’ll be in good hooves. After all, we have the world’s best foalsitter here to help.” Celestia smiled weakly.
“And you, Twilight.” Hammer Strike turned towards her. “I don’t care what is on the other side. While we are all there, you are listening to my orders, understood?”
“I--of course,” Twilight said, taken by surprise by Hammer Strike’s forthright attitude.
“Now remember, you’ll only have five days before the portal closes again, and then you’ll be trapped for another thirty lunar cycles. You must reclaim the crown and return to Equestria before then. And … if possible, please … bring Sunset home.”
“Wonderful. Add on a time limit and an extra.” Hammer Strike sighed. “Primary priority is the element. Secondary is her.”
“... I understand.” Celestia bowed her head. “Good luck. And may Faust prosper your journey.”
“So … who’s gonna take the plunge fir--and he’s gone,” Vital said, watching the ripples across the mirror. Hammer Strike had passed through before Vital could even finish the question. They had returned with their gear within thirty minutes of their little discussion.
Pensword approached the mirror next. “Well, you asked, so you get to go next. Thank you for volunteering yourself.”
Vital rolled his eyes. “You’re still not getting off the hook, mister,” he said as he passed through the mirror’s surface. Spike clung to Applejack’s leg, trembling as the time came for each Pony to pass through.
Pensword looked to Lunar Fang. After a final check on their bags, they approached the mirror together. Pensword paused and looked at portal. “Through the Looking Glass,” Pensword whispered with laugh. “Dear, if we meet a talking cat, we had better be ready for playing card guards.” And with that, Pensword broke into a fit of giggles as the pair stepped through, one after the other, and vanished in a sea of silver.
Twilight passed through the mirror last, looking back nervously for one final time before she disappeared into the silver ripples. Just as she finished, fear gripped Spike and he made for the mirror, slipping through before anyone could have the chance to stop him.
Extended Holiday Ch 79: Upside Down Sideways Act 10
“Hey, wake up! Come on, it’s been a few hours already!” a voice called to the unconscious Pensword as a hand shook him.
Pensword groaned as he slowly opened his eyes. His head snapped up and, after the dizziness had passed, quickly took in his surroundings. “What happened?”
A large, heavily muscled Human was shaking him. By the look of his face, Pensword guessed he was about sixteen to seventeen with grey skin and green hair that had been styled in a familiar messy formation. His features were sharp, and a pointed nose helped increase the impression. “You passed out on the trip. Can you stand?” the stranger asked.
“Who are you?” Pensword blinked in confusion. He lifted a hand to his head, then paused as he realized he had a hand and not a hoof. “Wait…what?” He yelped as he held his hand out to see it better. He pushed his other hand against his chest and his eyes widened. “Heartbeat.” He shuddered and a wide grin overtook the bewildered gaze. “I have a face. I–I have fingers. And toes…” He snarked, then finally let the laughter go as he broke down into a fit of heavy giggles.
“And you're making a scene. It’s bad enough you all look like you passed out in front of a high school. Breathe, Vulpix! Breathe!” the stranger said, his Phrench accent making itself clearly evident in his speech. Pensword took the opportunity to observe the boy’s black hooded sweatshirt and green muscle shirt underneath. A black leather belt blended with his black jeans, holding them up while a pattern of silver studs banded across the top in little dots, buckled with a silver buckle forming a familiar emblem. His hands were covered by green fingerless gloves and his feet were covered in black sneakers that Pensword guessed may have been steel-toed judging by the rounded dome in the tips. The handle of an epée peaked out over his shoulder.
“Grif?” Pensword asked, confusion quite evident in his voice and on his face. ”What–How did I get human?” he whispered as he began to really look himself over. He paused as he noticed a human with straw colored hair and light bluish-grey skin. She was wearing a T-Shirt with a bomber jacket over the shirt and jeans with tennis shoes. “Is that….?” He trailed off when he saws Lunar Fang’s cutie mark in the form of a patch on the left arm of her jacket. He looked down at himself to find he was wearing a bomber jacket as well with black slacks, black tennis shoes, and a tan button-up shirt with its top button undone.
“It seems to be the dominant species for this world,” Grif explained. “The only major differences are name schemes and skin coloring.”
“Like… a hybrid of two worlds,” Pensword muttered. “Oh dear.” He looked around nervously. “I… I can’t feel my wings.” He snapped to his feet and stumbled in surprise as a sudden rush of blood flowed to his head, causing black spots to dance in front of his vision. “Did I just use a contraction?”
“Considering you look probably sixteen or so, you may want to consider using them more,” Grif replied.
“Sixteen?” Pensword’s eyes widened. “I–but–what?” He finally choked out. “Okay, I officially hate magic mirror travel.”
A low groan sounded from behind, where a pale white boy with practically platinum blonde hair shifted on the ground. A plain red shirt hugged tightly to his frame, a symbol of a sun crossed by a four-pointed silver star displaying prominently on its front. A set of cargo pants hung stylishly from his waist as a set of high quality shoes shone brightly in the sun’s light. An H shone prominently on either side of the sneakers’ designs. “I feel like I’m gonna throw up.” He leaned onto his side, breathing heavily as he struggled to maintain his composure. His bright blue eyes left little doubt as to his identity.
“Then throw up,” Pensword commented dryly. “It’ll make you feel better.”
“What happened to me?” a familiar voice said as Grif turned to see a violet girl with indigo hair streaked with pink and purple highlights wearing a short purple skirt and a blue blouse. Twilight was freaking out at her new form while a green and purple dog attempted to calm her down.
“Twilight, calm down. Now isn’t the time to panic. We’ll show you everything you need to know to get used to this,” Grif said, trying his best to calm down the panicking girl.
They heard the start of a high pitched yelp that cut off mid-scream. Turning, the party found Pensword locking his lips and kissing Lunar Fang as deeply as possible. A few seconds later he disengaged, letting Lunar Fang take a few deep breaths to settle herself.
“Well, that was exciting,” Vital Spark said, shaking his head. “Where are we anyways?”
“Canterlot High School,” Grif said. “About twenty five minutes before classes begin, give or take.”
“Classes? A school?” Vital turned to face the building in question. “So let me get this straight. We’re going to have to infiltrate a school to get to Sunset? And worse yet, a high school?” Vital groaned. “Why couldn’t it just have been a dragon’s cave? At least they’re reasonable.”
“It gets worse. We are going up against the tyrant of the school. From what I’ve been able to find out, short of the principal and vice principal, her word is pretty much law.”
“And if you want to get to work here, I’ll need to get you enrolled.” The group turned towards the voice, finding a man who looked to be in his late twenties to early thirties. He wore a white dress shirt and grey vest and slacks. Around his neck, a cravat puffed prominently. Off to his side, a familiar blue and gold coat lay in the grass. A great stone base towered behind him with a rearing stallion overhead.
“That is a nice statute,” Pensword began, casually seizing his wife’s arm in a firm grip as she took a deep breath. “Dear, screaming will not do well. You are a Human now, and wings are not normal. We can handle being grounded for a week. I promise, when we get back, we will wrestle in the clouds, okay? Just take deep breaths and get a hold of yourself.”
“We should head inside,” Grif said, “we’re causing a bit of a scene out here.” He looked around at a few of the passing high schoolers who stared at the group every so often.
“Somepony … I mean someone is going to have to teach Twilight how to walk first,” Vital pointed out as Twilight fell onto the grass yet again. “On the plus side, she’s taking this a lot better than I thought she might. Good on you, Twilight.”
Twilight smiled nervously up at the group. “Um … thanks. It helps having all of you here with me. I’d hate to have to do all of this alone.”
“Well, we couldn’t chance you ending up in the middle of a battlefield.” Grif laughed. “Which, come to think of it, you kind of did. Lean your weight on your lower back,” he instructed. “Square your shoulders and keep your feet flat. You should be able to catch how it works quickly after that.”
“Like this?” Twilight wobbled briefly, but she didn’t fall.
“Good start.” Grif nodded. “Now when you take a step, you need to use the entire foot. Don’t shift your balance until you have your front foot firmly planted on the ground.” Grif did a few slow steps to give her a visual aid. “Every part of the foot matters, even the toes.”
“... Every part matters,” Twilight repeated as she walked exaggeratedly, making a show of planting the heel down, then slowly lowering the rest of her foot to the ground before raising to the tip of the toes again and repeating with the other foot. “Was … was that right?”
“You haven’t fallen yet, so you're definitely getting the hang of it. You see, Twilight, humans aren't born with any instinct on walking; it's a skill we need to learn. Ponies and Gryphons are born with what they need.”
“So all humans have to go through this?” Twilight responded.
“Well, it’s a little different for humans, since we get years to learn and you only have about a half hour, but you’re already a lot further than most would be. And besides that, you’re fully developed. A toddler wouldn’t be yet,” Vital added as he worked with Pensword and Lunar Fang to keep them on balance.
“I cannot believe I have to get help to walk. I should be helping Lunar Fang,” Pensword muttered darkly.
“I’d say it’s like riding a bicycle, but frankly, I doubt you could accomplish that either right now.” Grif chuckled. “Fluid in the ear canals, Pensword. You remember that part, right? Use your head to direct your motion.”
“And if you’re really having a hard time with it, give Vulpix a little more room to breathe. He knows all about being human, remember? Including muscle memory,” Vital added.
“I–I don’t remember,” Pensword whispered. “I feel strange. My center of gravity is too high up. Not enough limps. How am I going to deal with close combat if I cannot buck something? Or dive bomb them?” His pupils were wide as he stared at his friend, his body beginning to tremble from the rush of adrenaline. “I am a teen. For the third time. … You help Lunar Fang first. I’ll–I’ll find a way around the statue.” He raised his voice. “Stupid legs falling asleep.” He looked over to the school’s main entrance, where many students were flocking now that they’d heard a logical explanation for the weird kids’ strange behavior. “Looks like a fancier school then I ever went to.”
“I’m sorry to say, but since we have a time limit, and you all need to investigate in the school, you may need to relearn and learn on the go,” Hammer Strike commented dryly. “If I have to go through and figure out a method for getting you in the school by today, then we have less than twenty minutes.” He stood up, retrieved his coat, and hung it across his arm.
“Understood,” Pensword said as he hobbled to Lunar Fang’s side. “How about we help one another?” he asked as the couple worked to learn and relearn how to walk on two legs.
“Well then, shall we?” Vital asked, motioning towards the school. “We have to get things settled at the principal's office, right?”
“I agree,” Lunar Fang responded
“Then let’s go,” Hammer Strike said, gesturing with his head towards the school.
They entered the main lobby and passed into a large circular area with trophy cases spread out among the walls. Before Grif could act, Twilight had tried to use her non-existent horn to open the doors, only to smack right into them. Now they were in a two story lobby and banners of a horseshoe in the shape of a U with two rearing stallions on either side was spread out from the upper regions of the lobby.
Pensword looked around and pointed to a side entrance off the main lobby that read Main Office over the archway. “I think that way.”
“Yeah, I’d say that’s a pretty good guess,” Vital responded.
Hammer Strike led the group inside, finding a familiar woman with silver hair and steel colored skin at the desk. A single class ring bedecked her right hand while a wedding band gleamed from her left ring finger. Her business suit was simple, yet elegant: a blend of grey and silver to match her skin tones with thin vibrant gold stripes accenting the coloration. A gold laced silver kerchief stuck out from the business suit’s pocket, and her hair was tied back into a bun with an opal pin to hold it in place.
“Oh, Superintendent Hammer Strike. It’s good to see you. What brings you to the school? The board of review isn’t for another few weeks,” she said.
“I’m here due to some ... unexpected plans,” he responded simply. “I need to enroll these five here for classes as soon as possible. If possible, I’d like them to start today.”
Pensword stood silently. Normally, he would have objected, but It helped that Lunar Fang almost tripped when she saw who was sitting behind the desk. Vital looked bewildered, but did his best to hide it by looking around at the school’s architecture.
“That’s… Grif Grafson and Vital Spark. I thought you’d already decided to send them to Crystal Prep, Superintendent.”
“Um, after looking over your school's sports department, I have taken it upon myself to start a fencing club and spread the noble art here.” Grif wasn’t sure where that came from, but he figured it was his best bet shot at the moment.
“Well, we certainly can’t go wrong with an award winning fencer,” the secretary said after a time. “It’s good to finally meet you.”
“Charmed, madam,” Grif said, thickening his accent a bit as he took her hand gently and gave it a light kiss, which earned a giggle from the receptionist.
“I’ll get your transfer papers to Principal Celestia right away, Superintendent,” Platinum said. “Welcome to Canterlot High, all of you.”
Pensword closed his eyes and shook his head. He just waited for the inevitable questions to come. No identification numbers, no official documents, nothing. If anybody asked …. Wait a minute, wasn’t it normally Twilight’s job to worry? Speaking of which ... “Uh, where is Twilight?” he asked.
Twilight had decided to take a walk through the halls of Canterlot High. She’d stay close to where Hammer Strike and the others were, so it should be okay. She was about to turn back when her ears picked up something in one of the less crowded hallways.
“Oh, I’m really sorry,” A small timid voice echoed. “I–I just found it and I thought I should give it to her. I didn’t know you had dropped it.”
“Well, I did, and I was about to get it before you swooped in and ruined everything! You shouldn’t pick up things that don’t belong to you!” The voice was far more confident and had a cruel undertone to it.
“It doesn’t really belong to you either,” the timid voice whispered. Rounding the corner, Twilight saw a human that had yellow skin, a complementary forest-green skirt and white blouse, and pink hair with a butterfly hairclip.
“Excuse me!” the other girl, a darker yellow human with an all-too-familiar yellow and red hair color pattern shouted. From what Twilight could see, she wore a black leather jacket and an orange miniskirt. Sunset Shimmer slammed her hand down beside the yellow girl’s head, striking the lockers that she had backed her into.
“Nothing,” the girl whimpered and whispered at the same time.
“That's what I thought! It’s as good as mine and you know it!” Spike started to growl beside Twilight as they watched. “You really are pathetic! It’s no wonder your only friends are a bunch of stray animals.”
“How dare you speak to her that way!” Twilight demanded as she stared the bully down.
Sunset turned to glare at her. “What did you say?” A male student who had been walking nearby proceeded to push himself up against the lockers and quietly sneak past the pair.
The two approached one another, both leaning forward, both hands behind them bunched into fists. “I said how dare you speak to her that way!” Twilight responded.
They stared eachother down, then Sunset smirked, bringing a finger up beneath Twilight’s chin. “You must be new here,” she scoffed as she flicked Twilight's head up. Walking past, she sneered. “I can speak to anyone any way I want.” Sunset continued on her way, looking to the student who had been sneaking to get past. He responded by slamming himself into his own locker. She was just about to walk triumphantly away when she bumped into someone.
“I would thank you to know that tone will not be accepted when talking to my friends, mon amie.” Grif stared down at Sunset with a hard glare.
“You watch your tone when you talk to me,” Sunset returned, glaring up at him. The two looked at each other wordlessly as Sunset moved to get around him.
“Um … is it just me, or was that …?” Vital started.
“Sunset Shimmer.” Fluttershy nodded. “She pretty much runs the school. She’s a big meany, but nobody’s been bold enough to stand up to her before.”
“Well, if there’s one thing these two have,” Lunar Fang said, gesturing between Grif and Twilight, “it’s boldness. Though some might call it a lack of common sense.”
Pensword spoke up as he worked to pull the poor student out of his locker. “What does that make you if you hang out with us?” he teased.
“Sincerely doubting my own sanity,” Lunar Fang shot back playfully. Pensword laughed at the quip.
Fluttershy turned to Twilight and Grif. “I can’t believe you did that.”
“I couldn’t just stand there. Neither could Grif.”
“Well, it’s just that … nobody ever stands up to Sunset Shimmer.”
“Well maybe it’s about time somebody did,” Vital Spark said. “I hate bullies.”
“Oh, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you all around here before. Are you exchange students?” Fluttershy asked.
“Yes, we just transferred here,” Grif offered quickly.
“I’m sorry; we didn’t get your name,” Twilight said, idly stomping her foot and balling her hands like hooves until Grif cleared his throat and shot her a kill gesture.
“Oh, I’m sorry. My name is Fluttershy. It’s nice to meet you. And what was your name?”
“I’m Twilight Sparkle. We’re from … out of town.”
“Oh, are you from the big city? How exciting. You have a big park there, don’t you? With a petting zoo and lots of little animals? Oh, I’ve always wanted to go there and get to know them. I’m training to be a veterinarian some day, you know.” She smiled sweetly.
“Ahem. Ikespay, eednay omesay elphay easeplay,” Grif said quietly, backing up as Twilight's face nearly went red while she tried to think of an answer. Taking the cue, the dragon-turned-dog barked happily and wandered into view, grabbing the girl's attention.
“Oh my goodness! Who’s this sweet little guy?” Fluttershy asked, suddenly much more bold as she slid beneath Twilight’s leg, causing her to pinwheel on her one good leg as she struggled to regain her balance. Finally, Twilight got back to two feet again.
“That’s Spike. My, uh … dog,” Twilight said nervously.
“Oh, he’s so cute!” Fluttershy said as she pulled out a dog treat from her bag. “Go on. Eat up, little pup.” Spike experimentally took a small bite of the treat. Finding that it tasted great, he proceeded to gobble the rest down quickly.
“If I may, what was your fight about anyway?” Grif asked.
“Oh … I, um … accidentally took something of hers. She was really upset.”
“Crown? Made of gold-like material? Possibly a large gem?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Yes. How did you know?” Fluttershy asked, shocked.
“Internet,” Grif responded off the top of his head.
“Any idea where we might be able to find it?” Twilight asked.
“Oh, I gave it to Principal Celestia to look after. Since it looked important, I thought she was the best person to turn it over to.”
“And where’s her office?” Vital Spark asked.
“Most likely in the Main Office,” Pensword quipped.
“It’s the third door on your left,” Fluttershy said helpfully. “A lot of people get confused by that, actually.” She giggled when a bell suddenly started ringing. “Oh my, I have to get to class.” she began to run off. “Oh, before I forget. Pets aren’t really allowed here in the school. So you might want to put your puppy in your backpack. That’s what I do,” she said, opening her pack briefly for the others to see a bird, cat, and bunny before she rapidly zipped it back up and rushed off down the hall. “See you later!”
“So, alternate reality duplicates are confirmed,” Grif said as they turned for the office. “Who wants to bet that the principal will not be all-too-willing to hand the crown over to us just because we say so?”
“Agreed. And I’d rather not risk us being committed by talking about magic at the moment,” Pensword said.
“I agree. This world is clearly like ours. Everyone has cell phones and other technologies besides. On the plus side, that means we should fit in fairly easily. On the down side, that means we have to relive the nightmare that was our high school days,” Vital Spark said.
“Well, it should be a lot less nightmarish,” Grif said. “I mean, seriously, look at us! Were any of us in half this shape before in high school?” Grif asked, flexing his arm, causing the sweater sleeve to strain a bit.
“Okay, you have a point there. We should be able to defend ourselves if bullying becomes an issue. I just really don’t want it to be.”
“So it’s simple,” Grif said. “We need to find out what the crown is going to inevitably be the prize for and make sure Twilight wins ... in a school that doesn’t know her ... within a week’s time … and against a girl who is at the top of the totem pole.” Grif considered his words for a moment before shrugging. “What the heck? We’ve faced worse odds.”
“And none of them are out for our heads on a spike,” Pensword added on.
“Isn’t that a relief?” Hammer Strike commented to the group, papers in hand. “Had to fill in some papers for you before you could all be placed into classes. So, I have your list of classes here,” he finished, distributing the papers to each member of the group.
“Okay, while we’re in here, you can work on getting us money, a vehicle, and a place to sleep tonight. Also, we’ll need some cell phones and a tailor,” Grif said. “I’m working on a plan.”
Hammer Strike gave him a flat stare. “Anything else you want to add to that list? I already know what I need to do while you’re all in class. Speaking of which, you have, at best, five minutes to find them and get to them.”
“Not a problem. I–” Pensword looked down and grinned. “–History!” He beamed, poring over the map in its packet before looking to Lunar Fang’s schedule. His grin grew wider. “Hey, we have the same class first period. Come on, I’ll lead you there!” In mere seconds, Pensword was nowhere to be seen. All that remained was a tiny dust cloud where he and Lunar Fang once had stood.
“Twilight needs to speak with Celestia's double here,” Grif said. “Apparently she has the crown.”
“Yeah, I saw it already,” Hammer replied. “It’s for the elected princess of the Fall Formal.”
“Pinkie Pie?” Grif asked.
“No idea, but I can’t stick around too long to help you figure that out. I make the staff here a little … nervous,” Hammer finished with a small chuckle.
Vital Spark grinned. “Well, I’ll see you guys later. I have some orchestra practice to get to. Thanks, Hammer Strike.”
“Glad I was able to sway their choices on your classes.”
“See everybody at lunch,” Grif said. “I got World History.” With that, Grif headed off.
“After school, meet me outside near the statue,” Hammer called out to the group as they separated to their classes. He shook his head, a grin on his face. “Now I really do feel a bit old.”
Hammer Strike sighed to himself as he strolled through the town in search of a place where he could exchange bits for some of this world’s currency. After passing a few shops, a thought occurred to him. “They are currently in classes … and they don’t have school supplies,” he muttered to himself. He ignored the looks that individuals gave him as he continued on his way, still wondering to himself what he was going to get for everyone. He had a copy of their classes, so he knew what supplies he had to get for them at least.
Eventually he found a jeweler that advertised exchanging gold and jewels for cash. He rolled his shoulder as he opened the door and entered the establishment.
“Twenty Four Karat Jewelers, how may I help–? Oh, Mister Strike. Come for the usual appraisal, I assume? I thought you weren’t due for another week. Weren’t you supposed to be checking one of your mines in Zebrica?” A purple man asked. He wore a typical jeweler’s outfit with a yellow undershirt and a brown sweater-vest. A black tie hung around his neck and a large gold ring with a great diamond sat on his ring finger. His Green-and-white highlighted hair was greased backward for a professional appearance as he set his appraisal tools onto the counter.
“I’ve had some unexpected plans pop up, and it’s altered my schedule quite a bit,” Hammer commented as he walked up to the man. “I did happen to grab something before leaving, though, and I’d like to do some business with you.”
“It’s always a pleasure, Mister Strike, why, ever since you started coming here, business has never been better.” Karat’s topaz eyes twinkled as he grinned. “What do you have for me today?”
Hammer Strike reached into his folded coat, searching his pockets until he pulled out a thumb-sized black diamond and placed it into Karat’s hand.
“Mister Strike, you never cease to amaze,” Karat said as he carefully placed the jewel on the countertop and donned a pair of magnifying lenses for closer inspection. “And the quality of the cut is very well done indeed. That’ll certainly save me some extra time. Pity I couldn’t see it in its original condition.
“That is its original condition.”
“... Why am I not surprised?” Karat chuckled and shook his head. “Well, sir, the quality’s certainly high. It’s smooth, well polished, practically immaculate. And better yet, I detect absolutely no flaws. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say it was manufactured, but I know you’re not that kind of man. This could cause tidal waves in the gemstone market. It’s worth at least fourteen thousand bits at a minimum.”
“That’s fine.”
“But I haven’t even told you the highest estimate.”
Hammer Strike shrugged. “I said fourteen thousand’s fine. When you deal with it, use the extra funds to help out the business.”
“As always, thank you, Hammer Strike.” Karat broke into a grin. “This is going to bring in so much business.” The man pulled out a stack of bills. “If you don’t mind my asking, which charity are you donating to this time?”
“Some of this has to go towards that change in plans I mentioned earlier.”
“Well, if you need anything else, one of your bank’s branches is just down the street a ways. I’m certain your employees would be happy to assist.”
Hammer Strike gave a grin. “Until next time.”
The music room was fairly average with a green tile floor and a makeshift stage for smaller performers and chamber groups. A semicircle of stands pointed towards the doors to the room as the sunlight shone in from the three great windows behind the group. A heightened music stand stood at the ready as a tall, slender woman with silver-streaked white hair tied in a bun conducted with her baton. Her hands shone in the light, having recently been moisturized with hand lotion. She smiled in her knee-length red skirt and yellow sleeveless collared shirt. A small silver pin showing pegasus wings surrounding a treble clef accented the design alongside her ruby-red rhinestone studded bar note earrings. More than a few of the students fell out of time as their eyes drifted towards the doors behind their teacher.
“Stop, stop, stop, stop. How many times do I have to tell you kids? While playing a piece, your eyes have to remain on me. I don’t care if Starswirl the Bearded’s ghost appears. Eyes. On. Me. Just look at Octavia. She has the right idea.”
A young girl with long black hair laid her cello to the side and stood, adjusting her purple bowtie and smoothing her purple skirt. “Um, Miss Silver Note? I believe we have a new arrival.” She pointed to the door, where Vital Spark stood and blushed.
“Um … hello. My name is Vital Spark. I just got transferred here, and according to my schedule, I’m supposed to be in your class now.”
Miss Silver Note raised an eyebrow. “Well, come on, come on. We haven’t got all day, Mister Spark.” She extended an expectant hand as Vital approached the stand and handed her his schedule. A few moments later, she handed the paperwork back to him. “I take it you play an instrument? Do you have one with you, or do you need to borrow a school copy?” Her voice, while prim and proper, echoed warmth and kindness as she smiled at him.
“I’m a violinist, ma’am. I’ve played since I was very young. I’m afraid I don’t have my violin with me, though. Customs had to confiscate it for a time. I don’t know how long it will be before I get it back.”
Some of the students began to whisper amongst themselves. The teacher tapped the baton on the stand. “Now, now, it’s not uncommon for those of us to pick up the drums of Zebrica, so let’s not judge just because he chose a different instrument,” she said chidingly. Then she turned to Vital again. “Although I have to say, your mastery of English is remarkable. I don’t detect even a hint of an accent.” She sighed. “Pity. I wish your school hadn’t drilled it out of you. We could use a little more diversity in our school.” She indicated a door in the back.“The storeroom is back there. Please, pick up a violin and join whichever section makes you most comfortable. I’m sure one of the students can offer you his or her music to share for now. We’re a good ways into the unit, so you’ll just have to sightread as best you can. If you have questions between sessions, just raise your bow, or ask one of the students to either side. You should be able to pick it up pretty quickly.” She smirked. “Alright, kids, you can save the gossip for after class. We have a piece to get ready, and we only have about a week before the crowning ceremony. Let’s get cracking.” With that, she raised her baton as Vital Spark took his place in the back. “Alright, let’s start from measure thirty four, letter A.”
Pensword walked into the class, Lunar Fang clutching to his arm. Her eyes darted left and right as they passed through the doorway. The teacher looked idly up from his textbook as the pair interrupted the class. Pensword smiled weakly at his new history teacher. The middle-aged man was dressed in slacks, polished black shoes, a white shirt, a yellow tie, and a blue and white diamond patterned sweater vest. His skin tone was more of a dark grey.
“You must be the new students,” he commented. “Well, come on up here. You know the drill. State your names and take your seats. We can take time tomorrow to hear about where you’re from, hobbies, and all that other stuff. Right now we’re dealing with the colonization of Equestria after the unification of the three original governments. Come on now, we don’t have all day.”
“Of course.” Pensword nodded as they walked to the front. Matthew took over for a brief time, standing a little taller as he let his smile drop. “My name is Pensword.”
“And I am Lunar Fang,” Lunar Fang said.
“Oh, how sweet,” a snide voice in the back spoke up, “she likes him.”
“She hurt her ankle,” Pensword snapped. “I am being a gentleman and helping her around.”
“Enough.” The teacher snapped. “Please, take your seats. And Bluestar, if you speak out of turn again, I’ll dock half of today's participation points.”
“... Yes, Mister Night Sky,” Bluestar muttered as he dropped his head into his book, blushing violently while the rest of the class snickered.
“Good. Now, we have a few extra textbooks in the back. Take one and write your name in the cover. That will be your textbook for the remainder of the year. You’ll find the content we’re covering on page sixty six.” With that said, Night Sky proceeded to pace the front of the classroom, grabbing a piece of chalk from the board at the front of the class in his blue-black hand. His silver hair was spotted with light blue that shifted like stars. “So, can anyone tell me what the greatest foreign threat was to us at this time period?” he asked as he jotted the words early threats in bold capital letters.
Bluestar raised a hand. “Well, it would be the Natives to the West, right? They posed the greatest danger to the new settlers.”
“Try again. I said the greatest foreign threat, Bluestar. The Thestral Clans would be considered a domestic threat, and at the time there were no major disputes.”
A light blue hand shot up, belonging to a girl with very familiar blue and white hair.
“Yes, Colgate?” the teacher asked.
“Would it be the Graphimic Empire? They’d tried colonizing this land only a few hundred years earlier and failed due to lack of food supply. They couldn’t farm in the different environment, so it’s only natural they’d have wanted to conquer the land after all the settling had been properly accomplished, not to mention the three settling factions all had fled here originally to escape the empire. With the new country still stabilizing after such a long and intense civil war, it seems like they’d see it as their chance to take it back.”
Night Sky chuckled dryly to himself as he nodded. “Yes, Colgate, but maybe next time do you think you could let me teach the class?” He chuckled again as he drew an outline of what Colgate had said on the board. “Your answer basically just abridged most of the information in today's lesson, which means we can go a little more into detail. Excellent!” A collective groan arose from most of the classroom. “Please turn to page seventy and we can discuss the conflicts that led to the first of the Graphimic Wars. And remember, for tonight’s homework you need to answer the critical thinking questions at the end of this chapter on page seventy five.”
Grif smiled to himself as he listened to the lesson. He and Twilight had the same World History class first off, which he guessed was no coincidence. The teacher had instantly caught Grif’s interest. Extra Credit was a skinny, unassuming sort of person with a forest-green skin tone and messy brown hair. He had a high pitched voice with a kind of gravelly tone to it that was surprisingly not as unpleasant as its description sounded. Rather than halting the class to inquire about the late comers, the teacher had simply indicated an empty set of desks at the back with a side note that they would talk after class. He motioned for another student to lend them a textbook and returned to his lesson moments later.
“And so, this period in Vulpan history is known as the Sengoku Jedi, or the Warring States Period. Wars were fought near endlessly for almost a hundred years straight over who would control the small continent, during which the Kitsune warriors would abandon much of the tenants of their sacred code in order to further their ambitions. During this time, however, we also see the rise of many great figures, be they warlords, artisans, vassals, or as we’ll study in today's lesson, Ultimate Edge: the unequaled swordsman of the time. He won his first duel at the age of fourteen, when a wandering swordsman left an open challenge. Now Edge’s uncle tried to…” Grif hung onto every word of Extra Credit’s lecture, translating bits and pieces as best he could for Twilight’s Pony perspective of history.
Extra Credit was just getting into the story of one of Ultimate Edge’s most famous duels when the bell sounded. With a mournful sigh, Extra Credit nodded. “Very well. I guess you’ll have to finish tonight’s homework to find out what happened.” He smirked. “Read pages twenty five through thirty in your textbooks and do the questions you find. Remember, your historical reports are due Monday. See you all tomorrow.” As the class filed out, he motioned for Grif and Twilight to approach. “So, who are you two?”
“I am Grif Grafson,” Grif said, “and this is Twilight Sparkle. We’re newly transferred students.”
“And you have your papers confirming this?” he asked
Grif handed his papers over. He looked over to Twilight, who did the same. Extra Credit scanned them for a few minutes before handing them back and nodding. “Okay then, I guess I’ll be teaching you for the rest of the year. I’ll have textbooks for you tomorrow. For tonight, you won’t have to worry about homework. I’ll prepare a summary of the semester’s high points for you to use to catch up. I hope we can get along in future classes. It’s always a pleasure to see another passionate historian,” he said, winking at Grif. And with that the conversation seemed to be over. Grif and Twilight headed to lunch, their minds focusing on finding out more about what they’d need to do to retrieve Twilight's crown.
The cafeteria was abuzz with activity as high school students of all shapes and sizes clustered together to grab their lunches. As Pensword, Vital Spark, and Lunar Fang came together, they found an empty table and sat down to enjoy their meal, reserving seats for Grif and Twilight once they had finished on the line.
“Um … is it just me, or does it look like this school takes stereotypes to a whole nother level?” Vital Spark asked, motioning around. Each segment of the cafeteria had been divided to fit the various niches of the school: the arts, the nerds, the athletes, etcetera.
“Right,” Pensword said, taking in the situation. “Still, at least we do not have to worry about being interrupted during our meal.”
Vital’s eyes widened. “Pensword … what did you tell me about inviting a certain chaotic friend we all know into the equation?”
“Vital, this is a high school. They work in cliques, and it is actual societal suicide for a jock to sit with a theater person. Seeing as we are the new guys, and we are sitting together, we represent an unknown, and they need to see where we fit in on the pecking order. Today, we are fine. Tomorrow, maybe not. But for this moment at least, high school social politics are working in our favor.”
“I don’t think that’s what he means, Pensword,” Lunar Fang said, placing a calming hand over his shoulder, even as her eyes scanned the lunchroom for possible threats.
Meanwhile, back on the lunch line ...
“We still have to figure out how I’m supposed to enter this Fall Formal Princess thing,” Twilight noted as she picked up a sandwich from the counter. Grif shook his head, removing the roast beef sandwich from her grasp and putting it on his tray before grabbing a vegetarian sandwich and placing it on her tray.
“Have you tried asking someone?” Grif asked as they moved on. Twilight would reach for something and Grif would casually make a correction for her. “What about Fluttershy over there? She’s likely to know who we need to speak to.” He pointed to the familiar yellow girl in line ahead of Twilight, idly wondering to himself if she’d heard their conversation, or if this world practiced the same selective deafness of Equestria.
“Excuse me, Fluttershy, was it?” Twilight said, turning the girl.
“Yes?” She asked, looking nervous and startled at being talked to in the lunch line.
“Sorry, I was just wondering if you knew anything about the Fall Formal? How would I sign up to run for princess?” Twilight asked.
“You would have to talk to Pinkie Pie,” Fluttershy said with a grimace, “but that would be impossible anyways. You would need to unify all the groups, and the last one to try … well, last I heard, she moved three states over and she’s still scared Sunset will come after her.” She looked around. “Just be careful about Pinkie Pie,” she whispered. “She’s a big meanie who’s too loud and can’t keep a promise.”
Grif shot Twilight a look. There was something more to that part. The three of them proceeded to check out. Thankfully, the paperwork Hammer Strike had given them had included a lunch voucher for each of them. The person behind the counter, who looked suspiciously like Granny Smith, just smiled as she placed an apple on their trays. With a bit of skilled walking, Grif had managed to herd Fluttershy over to the table occupied by the others. “I believe you remember our friends Vital Spark, Pensword, and Lunar Fang.”
Pensword looked up. “Oh, hello, Fluttershy.” He smiled as he scooted down the bench to make room next to Twilight. “So, did I hear right? You run an animal shelter?”
Grif sat next to Vital Spark. He was about to bite into his sandwich when he stopped dead. “Vital,” he whispered, “what am I looking at?” He stared, dumbfounded, in Fluttershy’s direction.
“What’re you–? Ohhhhhhhh …” Fluttershy was taking dainty bites from a thick, juicy hamburger. Vital Spark shrugged. “Bit weird, but it’s normal here. I mean, she’s Human, right?”
“It still feels wrong.” Grif shuddered before turning his eyes away and taking a bite of his food. As he scanned the room, he picked up several familiar figures in the crowd: Berry Punch, Vinyl Scratch, Derpy, a kid who may have been Pipsqueak, but he couldn’t find the familiar pinkette amongst the lunch crowd. “We’ll have to eat quickly,” he mumbled as he ate.
“Right. I like the idea of a nice long lunch,” Pensword responded. Lunar Fang giggled into her sandwich.
Vital cocked an eyebrow. “Wait a second, what do you mean ‘long lunch?’ Didn’t Grif literally just say we had to eat fast?” Vital’s sloppy joe was already halfway gone. The red stains stood out boldly against his white skin as he wiped the sauce off with his napkin.
“Vital, anything longer than five minutes is a long lunch,” Pensword answered. “So, get to eating.” Somehow, despite all of his talking, Pensword’s plate was already halfway gone.
“Even in another reality, Granny never disappoints.” Grif let out a loud belch. “Excuse me,” he said, rising with his empty tray.
“... You guys think I should risk it?” Vital asked, holding the perfect red apple in front of him. Its skin shone in the light flowing down in a pillar from one of the upper windows, and his mouth watered as he stared longingly at it.
“There is a first aid station in the front of the school. We can get you medical help if you need it,” Pensword said as he rolled his eyes.
“Alright, I’m going in.” Vital Spark bit off a large chunk and chewed voraciously. “This apple’s amazing,” he said, his eyes wide and sparkling.
“It is a proxy of an Apple Family apple.” Grif laughed as he sat down again, having returned his empty tray.
Pensword walked back after putting his and Lunar Fang’s trays through the return slot. He sat down and, in a matter of seconds, polished off his own apple, leaving little left but the stem and the seeds.
“So, uh, yeah. Sorry about that.” Vital Spark chuckled nervously as he blushed, then got up to toss his core. “So, where do we start?”
“Come on, Twilight,” Grif said, pulling the still-eating girl to her feet. “We’ve got an insane pink menace to track down.”
“But … but … but … my sandwich.” Twilight teared up as half her sandwich sat abandoned on her lunch tray.
Pensword picked up the sandwich. “Eat on the move,” he instructed, handing it off to her.
“Um … thanks, Pensword, Twilight said as she struggled to keep up with Grif. Lunar Fang and Vital Spark followed behind at a safe distance as they left the lunch room and entered the halls.
The group looked around the vibrantly decorated gymnasium.
“Balloons? Check. Streamers? Check. The color pink, even though it has no connotation to fall? Check. This is most definitely her work,” Grif said, “which means she will probably appear behind Vital Spark’s back in… now!” Grif said.
“Hi! I’m Pinkie Pie, head of the Fall Formal Planning Committee. How can I help you?” she asked, causing Vital Spark to jump a good foot into the air before he dropped back to the floor again.
“Jeez, how does she do that?” Vital exclaimed. Grif just patted his shoulder and smiled consolingly.
“I’m here to sign up to become the princess of the Fall Formal,” Twilight said.
“Getting your name on the ballet kinda late, aren't you?” Pinkie asked as she searched some nearby supplies for something.
“I’m brand new here,” Twilight replied. “Just arrived today.”
“Of course you're new here! But now that I see you, do you all have twins that live in the city? And does your twin sister have a dog named Spike exactly like that one?” Pinky asked excitedly as she pointed to Spike.
Pensword looked at the others. “I can neither confirm nor deny that question without consulting with the secretary.”
“Okay, secret agent man,” Pinkie said as she pulled out a clipboard and proceeded to produce a pen from her hair.
Twilight first took the pen in her mouth, then hesitantly smiled at Pinkie Pie, who continued to stare back. She slowly took the pen in her hand, then scrawled across the space in a series of loops and swirls. Finally, she smiled nervously and handed the pen back to Pinkie.
“Wow,” Pinkie said as she squinted at the clipboard. “Your handwriting is terrible! It’s like you’ve never even held a pen before.”
Twilight laughed nervously. “Is it?”
Before Pinkie could respond, a loud voice shouted through the gym with a distinctive country twang. “Somebody order a dozen cases of fizzy apple cider?”
Pensword chuckled as he watched the familiar antics and relaxed. Nothing would be able to harm them here. He just might be able to enjoy this vacation.after all.
Applejack smacked her cargo onto a nearby table, then let go of the case and turned to the door. “Mind taking care of the rest?”
“Eeyup,” a tall boy said as he carried in four containers of cider at once. Applejack quickly removed the top basket to reveal a tall, muscular, slightly red-skinned boy with messy blond hair and matching green eyes. Anyone could tell the two were related, though it helped being from Equestria.
“Hey, I know you,” Applejack said as she carried her crate over to another empty table.
“Um, you do?” Twilight asked nervously.
“Sure. You’re the new girl who gave Sunset Shimmer the what-for today.” She pulled a bottle of fizzy cider to her teeth and bit off a cap before guzzling it lustily.
“Twilight sparkle here is gonna run against Sunset Shimmer for Princess of the Fall Formal,” Pinkie explained.
Applejack promptly did one of the longest spit takes either world had ever seen. “I’d think twice about that. Oh, sure, she’ll probably approach you all friendly-like.” She promptly yanked Pinkie Pie down from where she had been hanging in mid-air and grabbed the heart-shaped balloon she’d been hanging on to with her mouth. She then drew an image of Sunset Shimmer on its front while Pinkie began to blow up a large orange balloon. Applejack brought her voice up to a higher falsetto. “‘I sure am looking forward to some friendly competition.’” Then she pulled up the orange balloon, which PInkie had taken the liberty of drawing a cartoon face of Twilight on, and lowered her voice slightly. “‘That’s so good to hear.’” She flipped Sunset’s balloon around to reveal a nail on its back. “But then, here comes the backstabbin’.” She popped Twilight’s balloon. “About the only girl you can trust less than Sunset Shimmer is Rainbow Dash.”
“Rainbow dash?” Twilight exclaimed in shock.
“She’s the captain of like every team in Canterlot High!” Pinkie said matter-of-factly as the balloon she’d been using as a bouncing ball toy beneath her legs popped.
“Well, for now,” Grif said.
“She’s also the captain of sayin’ she’s gonna do something for ya, and then turnin’ around and not even botherin’ to show up,” she said as she folded her arms angrily.
Twilight placed a hand on Applejack’s shoulder. “Thanks for the advice, Applejack, but this is something I really need to do.” She motioned to herself, then dropped her arms to her waist.
“Huh. Suit yourself.” Applejack laid a hand on her hip while the other held up in a casual shrugging gesture. Then she brought said hand to her lip as something occurred to her. “Hey, how did you know my name was Applejack?”
Twilight laughed nervously. “Um, I uh … didn’t you say?”
Big Mac piled another crate up “Nope.” Then he walked out as Pinkie Pie popped the top off one of the bottles of cider with the curl at the tip of her hair.
“She did a ridiculous amount of research on the area to better acquaint herself with the school. She is, how do you say, a big nerd like that. In a small town like this, it is pretty hard not to hear about the rodeo queen herself.” Please still be a rodeo star, please still be a rodeo star, Grif thought to himself repeatedly.
“I ain’t been in a rodeo in over three years. Ever since Miss Princess herself decided to grace us with her royal pain in the behind,” Applejack said, rolling her eyes.
“We should probably get going. I believe we have some homework to take care of.” Vital Spark hastily took hold of Twilight and began directing her towards the gymnasium doors.
“Well, uh, it sure was nice meeting you both. I’m sure I’ll be seeing you around,” Twilight said hastily, waving as Spike raced after them.
Pinkie immediately popped up next to Applejack, fizzy cider in hand. “That one’s trying to hide a secret, but I’m on to her.” She leaned in and whispered, “she’s psychic.”
Applejack just gave her a quizzical look. “Uhuh. If you say so.”
Suddenly, the gym doors were thrown open as a familiar red-and-yellow haired tyrant walked in, shadowed by a tall gangly yellow boy with green hair and a short squat grey boy with orange hair. She sneered as she examined the room. “This looks terrible. There should be more streamers near the stage, and fewer balloons.” She promptly popped a pair of balloons as she glared at Pinkie Pie before sauntering towards another part of the gym.
“Yeah,” Snips growled out in a failed attempt at intimidation as he tore some remnants of pink streamer paper. “Streamers.”
Snails came across next, trying to pop a large yellow balloon by hugging it. “And Fewer Balloons.” He tried to finish, but only managed to fall onto his back with an audible thud while the balloon escaped his grasp and rose to the ceiling.
Sunset looked at the crates of bottles in distaste. “Fizzy Apple Cider? Ugh! This is my coronation, not some hoedown!” she growled.
Applejack began to fume. “Well, now, it ain’t necessarily gonna be your coronation this time around.”
Sunset chuckled before scoffing “Oh, is that so? You country folk really aren't that bright. Must be why the other students say such awful things about you,” she sneered as she flipped Applejack’s stetson around and pulled it down to cover her face.
Applejack growled, fuming as the top of her hat popped open to reveal an extremely red face. One could almost hear the sound of steam whistling in the air.
“Obviously it’s gonna be my coronation. I’m running unopposed.”
Pinkie Pie jumped in cheerfully. “Not this time! The new girl signed up!” she said, offering the clipboard as proof.
“What?” Sunset shouted, grabbing the clipboard.
“I know. Her handwriting is really bad,” Pinkie said, looking over Sunset’s shoulder.
Sunset scanned the name over and over again. “Where is this Twilight Sparkle?” she growled menacingly, her eyebrows furrowing together. She started, realizing she’d just let her facade drop. She put out her best fake laugh, which, thanks to years of practice, was convincing enough to fool anyone present. “I’m looking forward to meeting the competition,” she said, spreading her arms apart in the act of fair sportsmanship. She handed the clipboard back to Pinkie Pie before turning to leave, her two cronies following behind. “And I’m going to make sure to crush it,” she said after the three had safely passed the doors into the halls. Snips and Snails snickered behind her as they left in search of Twilight.
Twilight slowly made her way down the abandoned halls. She was already late for her next class, and she could hardly understand this new map. She kept getting all turned around in this school. She stopped in one of the older halls of the building. Faulty lighting cast several of the lockers in darker shadows as she struggled to make sense of the map again.
“Can’t believe I didn’t recognise you earlier,” an all-too-familiar voice spoke out in a haughty tone as Sunset Shimmer approached with arms crossed. “Should have known Princess Celestia would send her prized pupil after my crown.” Her eyes locked on Spike. “And her little dog, too.”
“It’s my crown,” Twilight exclaimed as she leaned in to stare Sunset down.
“Whatever,” Sunset scoffed. “This is just a minor setback for me. You don’t know a thing about this place, and I already rule it!” she sneered.
“If that’s so, why do you even need my crown? You went to an awful lot of trouble to switch it with the one that belongs here.”
Sunset chuckled darkly. “Pop quiz: what happens when you bring an element of harmony into an alternate world?” She looked into Twilight’s blank expression and laughed. “You don’t know? Seriously? And you're supposed to be Celestia’s star student? Then again, what are the chances she’d find somepony as bright as me to take under her wing after I decided to leave Equestria? Bit embarrassing that you were the best she could do.”
Spike growled and barked angrily at Sunset as he emerged from the backpack.
“Oh, and I’d keep an eye on your mutt. Hate for him to be … taken away from you.”
“Is that a threat?” Spike asked boldly as he extended a paw like a fist.
“Of course not.” She smiled evilly at the pup.
Spike barked in response, still baring his fangs as Sunset brought a silencing finger to his muzzle.
Sunset leaned in. “But I’d cut down on the chatter if I were you. Don’t want everyone to know you don’t belong here now, do you?” She turned and walked away. “You want to be a princess here? Please. You don’t know the first thing about fitting in.” With these words, Sunset smirked and walked confidently down the hallway.
While Sunset had been having her conversation with Twilight, Grif and Vital Spark had been searching for her. Seeing Sunset walk past them with her grin, Grif looked at Vital and silently jerked his head in Sunset’s direction.
“Seriously?” Vital mouthed. Grif nodded and pointed. Vital sighed, threw up his hands in a why-me gesture, nodded, and followed after the girl.
Sunset walked towards the gymnasium just in time to encounter Snips and Snails hopping out wrapped from head to toe in torn streamers. With a growl, she proceeded to tear the offending decorations off the two boys. She gestured just in time to reveal Twilight heading down the hall opposite to them with Grif.
“I want you to follow her. Bring me anything I can use, just like the last girl who thought she could challenge me.”
“You got it, Sunset Shimmer,” Snips said eagerly as he and Snails saluted in unison.
Sunset turned from the pair and laced her fingers together in a tent as a shadow passed over her face. “When the crown and its power are mine, Twilight Sparkle will be sorry she ever stepped hoof into this world. Not that she’d be much safer in Equestria.” She chuckled darkly.
“Yeah. In Equestria,” Snips said like an incompetent yes-man. When it came to evil, these two clearly had no real talent.
Sunset growled as she turned on the pair. “What are you still doing here? Go!” She pointed down the hall after Twilight.
The shout took them by surprise, causing the two bumblers to slam into each other. Each let out multiple exclamations of pain while stars danced around their heads briefly before they shook their heads and ran off.
Vital Spark came around the corner and rolled his eyes as he saw the scattered streamers. “Augh. I wish people would stop leaving trash all over the place. I guess some things are just universal in every school.” He sighed as he stooped down to start picking up the debris. Then he looked up at Sunset. “Oh, I’m sorry, the name’s Vital Spark. I just transferred here. What’s your name?” he asked, clutching a set of streamers in one hand as he extended the other.
Sunset scoffed. “Whatever,” she said, turning and walking away slowly.
“Wow. Talk about a cold shoulder,” he muttered as he finished picking up the streamers. “Nice meeting you, too!” he called out after her, then walked into the gym to return the streamers to Pinkie Pie before making his way back out into the hall. “Now I’ve just gotta find Grif. Let’s see. He’s with Twilight, who’s going to be completely lost. She’ll be looking for somewhere she feels comfortable …” he did a facepalm. “Of course. Doy.” With that said, he navigated the halls with the assistance of the school map, stuffing one of the streamers Sunset had touched into his pocket for potential use later.
Twilight continued down the hall until her stomach growled. She approached one of the snack machines and gazed at the contents inside, licking her lips as she eyed the fruit slices next to the peanut butter crackers. Realizing the barrier that kept her from this delicious snack, she grabbed the side of the machine and tried to pull it open from the front. When that didn’t work, she tried pushing it instead. Still, the iron vault wouldn’t yield up its delicious tangy treasure. She plastered herself to the glass and looked inside, her stomach insistent as it growled yet again. Her eyes narrowed with determination as she dropped to the ground on her hands and feet and raised her right leg. Just as she was about to kick with all her might, a familiar figure with pale blue skin walked up with her haughty voice.
“Excuse me,” she said as she passed Twilight and looked into the machine. She wore a blue school hoodie and a pair of light blue boots accented with purple tops and toes with white stars. Her purple skirt bore her counterpart’s cutiemark while a single gold embossed purple star pin had been placed in her hair. “The Great and Powerful Trrrrrrixie–!” She raised her hands into the air dramatically with balled fists. Then she dropped back down and smiled into her reflection, opening a hand to reveal a familiar golden coin. “–needs some peanut butter crackers.” She popped the coin in, entered the code for the snack, and retrieved it, holding it between her two fingers as she walked past Twilight magnanimously. “Voilah,” she said.
Twilight looked on after she left, then turned to face Spike as he peeked out from her bag. Pain and discouragement showed in her eyes. “Sunset Shimmer is right.” She slumped forward and started to walk aimlessly. “I don’t know the first thing about this place.”
“Then it’s a very good thing we came with you,” Grif spoke up as he approached her. Seeing a passing student, he waved. “Hey man, spare some change?” he asked
“Oh, sure.” The student reached into his pocket and placed a few coins in Grif’s hand.
“Thanks.” The other student nodded before walking off. Grif reached the vending machine and an instant later, approached Twilight, offering the fruit cup. “I, Pensword, Vital Spark, and even Hammer Strike had to do time here at one point. High school is tough, but we can get you through it.”
Twilight smiled weakly as she took the cup and opened it, popping a piece of strawberry in her mouth. She sighed in relief as her stomach finally started to quiet down. “Thanks, Grif. I … I just feel so overwhelmed. If I’m going to really fit in and win votes, we need to do some research.” She popped another piece of fruit into her mouth, then offered the cup to Grif.
Grif refused. “It’s fine. I ate enough at lunch, and I still have some of my emergency dried meat in my pack. Not everything was changed when we arrived.”
“Research?” spike asked.
Twilight began to walk again as Grif trailed behind. “This place has a school,” she said, lifting her hands as she began to exercise her deductive reasoning. “I have to believe it’s got a–” she stopped in front of an inconspicuous set of doors and turned to see a sparkling clean “–library!” She turned and shot her hands up above her head in victory, grinning as she raced inside.
“I swear she has a sixth sense for these things.” Grif facepalmed as he followed her.
“Gah.” Pensword growled in frustration as he exited one of the classrooms. “Why is it that base four is an invalid form of mathematics? I learned that way. It is the freshest in my mind, and yet I am marked wrong on it in the class quiz. I even showed my work for feather’s sake. It might have taken him more time to analyze, but I should be correct.” Lunar Fang placed a consoling arm around his shoulder.
“How many fingers do humans have?” she asked.
“Uh...” Pensword quickly looked down at the fingers and wiggled them. “Ten.”
“Gryphons used that for the basis of their mathematics, too. It’s why Equestria had to reform the educational system to account for it,” Lunar Fang explained.
“You are telling me that I am going to have to relearn math? Again?” He whined. “I just ... can I just have a nice event where I do not have to reinvest my entire learning over?” He finally noticed the looks he was attracting. “Yeah … might want to talk about this later.”
“How do you do it?” she asked him quietly.
“Do what?” He asked as they drew closer to the school’s entrance.
“Your wings. You don’t seem bothered by their absence at all. It’s driving me mad.”
“It is driving me crazy,” Pensword admitted. “However, I am drawing upon Matthew’s memories and feelings to keep from total panic. According to him, we grew up without wings, so I should be able to cope.”
“You make it sound so easy.” She sighed heavily. Looking at her now, Pensword could finally tell just how fragile her state really was.
“Well, when we get settled in, how about–?” he leaned in and whispered into her ear. “Would that help?” He asked, leaned back with a smirk.
For the first time since they arrived, Lunar Fang blushed deeply. “Oh, I think that would help immensely,” she replied, giggling.
Pensword chuckled at her reaction. “Good. We should make do, and hopefully this week will pass quickly. Then we can return home.” He paused as he realized something. “Should we start buying books to bring back? Or anything else?”
“... We’d have to be careful about sneaking it through, but I think we could get a few things.”
“Good. Because we can learn a lot here and apply it back home. Say, do you think we can still detect weather changes?”
“I honestly don’t know. I’m still trying to adjust to this. How did you ever get used to it?”
Pensword laughed. “Used to what? Remember, I was born like this. I didn’t get a Pony form until later.” He shuddered briefly. “So, I am comfortable in both forms now, although I much prefer my Pony form. After all, it has wings, and I can sit on a cloud.” He winked at her.
“I just hope this week goes by quickly.”
“Same here. I do not want Moon River to get too spoiled while we’re gone.” He casually looked down at his hand, then jerked to a halt. “Woah.” He began to laugh. “It looks like we have wedding rings.” He pointed to the simple gold band on her ring finger.
“You mentioned these. They’re the human equivalent to heart gifts, right?”
“That is correct. They also stand as a physical sign of our oaths as a Thestral couple.”
“Well, at least there is something that mirror can’t take from us.” She smiled, giving him a short peck on the cheek.
“Agreed. Even if we are more like teenage sweethearts in this world,” he muttered, blushing from the peck as they sat on a nearby bench to wait, among other things.
Twilight bunched up her hand into a fist as she sat at the computer and proceeded to try to type as she used to when she was a Pony. Naturally, this resulted in getting absolutely nowhere and causing random letters to spread all over the search bar.
“No.” Grif shook his head and grabbed her hands. Gently, he opened her fingers. “Think of each finger like a frog. Each is its own entity with its own muscles and bones. They are strong together, but much more versatile when used individually,” he explained as he set her fingers on the correct keys with both thumbs on the space bar. “I don’t need to go into the alphabet at least. When you hit a key on here–” He pressed the currently vacant T key and a t popped onto the screen. “–It appears on there. If you are typing multiple words, you hit this long key with your thumb–” He hit the space key. “–and it creates an empty space. When you’re done typing what you need, you hit enter, this funny looking key here,” he said, pointing to the key in question. “And if you make a mistake, just hit this key up here with the backwards pointed arrow. You got that?”
“I … think so.” She slowly pushed key by key. “Like this?”
“Exactly.” Grif nodded. “When you hit the enter key, a bunch of random things will pop up on the screen. When you see something that seems connected to your search, you take the mouse–” he guided her hand to the mouse and placed it carefully “–and you guide that little white arrow to the blue writing and click on it by pressing the left button on this. Think you can handle that for now, Twilight?”
“What do I do if I want to go back?”
“You see those arrows in the corner? You move the white arrow up to the backwards facing one and push the left button on the mouse. If you need anything else, just ask me. I’ll just be on this one doing my own research, okay?”
“O-okay,” Twilight said uncertainly before she began typing. After about ten minutes or so, she rapidly adjusted to the basics before her fingers flew across the board. In what felt like mere minutes, an hour had flown by.
Grif stood by the printer when Twilight finally left the computer. He watched her head for the more solid books as the last of the dossiers they had found together printed off. He had decided the others needed to know just who they turned out to be in this world.
“Hey, Grif,” Vital said. “Whatcha doin’?”
“Well, Vital, I think you may want to see this.” He shuffled through the papers before handing one to the boy. “I found us on the internet.”
“Say what now?” Vital’s eyes widened as he reviewed the paper.
“Yeah.” Grif nodded. “Tell me about it. So, what did you find out?”
“According to this, I’m supposed to be a child prodigy with an emphasis in chemistry for Crystal Prep. The rest is music and homeopathic medicine. Grif, I know barely enough about one of those things and I hardly passed chemistry last time around. How am I supposed to measure up to all this?”
Grif facepalmed. “I meant about our dear friend Sunset Shimmer and her minions.”
“Oh, that.” Vital chuckled nervously. “Yeah, she’s pretty much looking for damaging material to drag Twilight through the mud. Apparently, she did the same thing to the last girl to run against her. That’s why she changed schools in the first place. Sunset sent Snips and Snails to do the dirty work, so we should keep an eye out for them.”
“Are they in here now?”
“Most likely.”
“Okay, so I’m going to try and get out of sight. I want you to find one of them, let him see you, and keep him moving.”
“You know they’re never apart, right? I’ll have to spook them first, then run after one. Since they’re after Twilight, we should probably look for the best vantage points to record her from.”
“Not like we’re in a room filled with large shelves with easily movable books to form viewing holes and the like.” Grif rolled his eyes.
“Grif, this is Snips and Snails we’re talking about here. Do you really think they’d think of that?”
“Okay then. Stay here and act natural. When I give the signal, cover the door, okay?”
“What should I expect?”
“Someone’s going to run. Possibly two.”
“Alright. Just give me a second to find a good novel. Then I’ll camp out by the doors.” When Vital looked back, Grif was already gone. He sighed. “Typical.” With that, he plopped down onto the desk nearest the entrance and pulled out his homework for the night. “And here I thought I’d never have to stare at this stuff again,” he muttered to himself. A few minutes later, two very familiar and startled screams notified him Grif had been successful. He quickly rose to the doors and closed them casually before leaning against them, book still in hand as he heard the sound of scampering feet. Turning, he braced himself. “Not so fast, buddy,” he said as he grabbed the slower of the pair. Snips struggled in Vital’s arms as Snails bolted through the doors with an angry slam.
“Hey, let me go!” Snips whined.
“Well now,” Grif said as he noticed Snips’ phone on the floor, having been dropped when Vital caught him. “There seems to be an awful lot of footage here pertaining to Twilight Sparkle. Why would you be spying on her?”
“None of your business.”
“Maybe, but under the school's business, this kind of unsanctioned footage easily qualifies for harassment,” Grif said. “So maybe I should take this to Vice Principal Luna? Or even better, call up my sponsor? You remember Superintendent Hammer Strike’s reputation, right?”
“That… that’s no problem. Not after Sunset Shimmer wins the crown,” Snips sneered. “Go ahead. Take the video. You wouldn’t be able to figure out what we’re gonna do with it anyway.”
Grif smirked as he looked at Vital. “Ain’t that cute? He thinks he’s intimidating,” he said as he tapped a few of the phone’s keys. “Listen closely, little man. You and your buddy get caught near Twilight again, and they will never know what happened to you.” Grif’s tone held a terrifyingly cheerful aspect to it as he slipped the now completely factory reset cell phone into Snips’ pocket. “Sunset may have promised you a lot, but next time, choose your sides more carefully.” Grif towered over Snips as he reached his full height. “Now you tell Sunset that if she wants the crown, Celestia’s Ghost, the Avatar of Winds, and the Moonkissed Pegasus welcome the challenge. Now return to your mistress.” Grif nodded for Vital to let him go.
Vital did so and watched sadly as Snips stumbled down the hall. “Grif, he’s just a kid. Did you really have to go and scare him like that?”
“The fate of two worlds is possibly in danger here. Worse yet, it seems Sunset Shimmer has made those two aware of this fact. If this comes to a head, I want to know they knew what they were facing. They knew what they were dealing with. I’m giving those two the chance to back away, because if they don’t, mercy may not be a commodity we can spare, and I know Hammer Strike and Pensword would agree with that fact.”
Vital sighed. “I can understand where you’re coming from, Grif. I just wish we could’ve shown them what Equestria and Sunset were like before. Maybe then they wouldn’t be so willing to help her. The way they are … I wouldn’t be surprised if they’re made fun of here, just like I was when I was their age. She probably promised them power and revenge as incentives.”
“Maybe I’m just not as fit for this world as I was when the three of us first arrived in Equestria, but you have to remember, Vital. Sunset’s promises also carry the possibilities of death and disgrace. No warrior should go to war thinking only of the victory without considering the cost of defeat. I pray you never have to be in that instance, but those two have entered a game far more dangerous than they realize. If I am to be the villain of the piece to make them see that, then I will do so willingly.” He looked back into the library. Miss Cheerilee was busy stacking shelves and preparing to close. “It’s getting late. Let’s get Twilight and figure out where Lunar Fang and Pensword are. Then we find out what Hammer Strike managed to do for us.”
“You’d better go tear her away from those books then. If we don’t, she’s liable to stay here the whole night.”
“And sleep on a bed made out of books?” Grif laughed as they made their way to the shelf where Twilight was engrossed in an old yearbook, three waist-sized stacks surrounding her as she continued to work.
Hammer Strike sighed quietly to himself as he leaned against the statue they arrived through, waiting for the group to show up. Students walked by him, each one talking with friends about some sort of plans, or where something was happening. On his face a new pair of sunglasses sat, protecting his eyes from the sun. He had specially purchased them for himself.
The first to show up were Pensword and Lunar Fang. They were still wearing their newly changed school bags as they walked purposefully to the statue.
“You look very bored,” Grif noted as Twilight, Vital, and himself arrived soon after. Twilight was hauling a bag filled to the brim with books.
“Just waiting on you guys,” Hammer said, looking up to the group. “You all ready to go?”
“I need food. Please tell me you got money?” Grif said imploringly. “Damn giant body and teenage metabolism aren't a good mix.”
“I have to admit, I’m surprised at how hungry my body is, too. Last time I was human, I usually just had to eat a sandwich or something and I’d be good for four hours at least,” Vital said.
“I just want to get settled in and start a plan of action,” Pensword replied. “Also, welcome to my world when I was a Teenager.” He shook his head knowingly and folded his arms expectantly. “So what happened? Do you want me to find a park and pitch a tent?”
“No, I’d like you all to get in the car so we can go home,” Hammer replied as he pulled out a jingling set of keys comlete with a remote. Pressing one of the buttons, a vehicle in the distance chirped as its doors unlocked. Said vehicle was a crimson stretch Hummer with enough space to hold the six passengers comfortably, considering it had enough room to fit a good twelve people at least. The seating curved around the vehicle, giving plenty of space for the passengers to stretch their legs. Red lighting waited for evening to come to turn on beneath plain black and brown leather seats that had been set by various cupholders, snack holders, etc.
“Just how much money did you get?” Grif asked, eyeing the vehicle. “This couldn’t have come cheap.”
“I’ll tell you more when we get in, but for now, I already owned it.”
“I look forward to the debriefing.” Pensword smiled as he opened one of the passenger doors and motioned for Lunar Fang.
Grif grabbed the pages from his bag as he headed for the passenger front seat. “I looked up our information, but I guess you already know yours,” he said he turned to Pensword, offering two sheets. “Here.”
“Oh?” Pensword took the pages and flipped to the second. “Okay, one is yours, dear, and one is mine. Here you go.” He passed the sheet over to Lunar Fang as they made their way further into the Hummer.
“I’m guessing it’ll be something along the lines of the Native Americans back home,” Vital said. “Political activists or something like that.” He sighed as he plopped into his seat. “Hey, Pensword, could you pass me a water, or whatever’s in that mini-fridge over there?”
Pensword did as he was asked. His hand emerged triumphantly gripping the dew-dropped water bottle before buckling Lunar Fang’s seatbelt and then his own. After he’d made sure both were secure, he tossed the bottle to Vital Spark while reviewing his own history. “Okay, let’s see. It appears I am part of the republic remnant and natives to this land. I use both heritages to my advantage, and … I already published two history books?” He yelped as he looked to Lunar Fang, who blushed as she reviewed her papers.
“I appear to be fully native here, but I’m an activist who fights for more rights for the natives.” She giggled and snuggled up to her mate. “Two books? I might have to read what you’ve written. Or maybe you could read it to me in bed?” Pensword blushed profusely and she laughed. “Ah, it seems I wrote an editorial demanding you to revise some of your words in one of your works, claiming that you have dishonored your ancestors.”
“Let’s see. One is a historical overview of the S.S. Titan.” He blinked. “The Titan? Wow, I almost want to say that this is like the Titanic.” He looked further down. “The other is a historical fiction novel: The Last Invasion of the Homeland.” He looked up. “That, I think, is a book set in this world’s equivalent of the Third Gryphon War.” He frowned. “It seems that in this world you and I are much different.” He chuckled. “However, what if our counterparts fall in love over this argument?”
“Makes sense. No, Twilight, not there. Your seat belt goes over you like this.” Vital proceeded to reach for the belt portion, placed it in Twilight’s hand, and then guided it to the corresponding buckle on the other side. Then he placed her hand over the belt’s tightener and pulled. “There. See? All set.”
Hammer Strike turned the key in the ignition and the car turned on. The engine rumbled and hissed as it warmed up.
“Where’s the coal? Or the water?” Twilight asked, looking around. “It sounds like an animal, but from what you’ve told me, this is supposed to be a method of transport. The only thing I can think of would be steam power, but that doesn’t seem possible. There’s no tank”
“Electricity heats up the coils, producing steam, so it is in fact a steam engine,” Hammer Strike responded.
“No fossil fuels here?” Grif asked.
Hammer Strike chuckled as he put the car into gear and began their journey home. “Nope. I made sure of that awhile back, it seems.”
“Something tells me you found out a lot of interesting things today,” Grif said. “By the way, we need school supplies. Twilight was going to have a meltdown over not having a quill until someone lent us a few pens and some paper.” Twilight went red with embarrassment.
“In the trunk. The rest is at home.”
“The rest is at home? Did you buy a house?” Pensword asked in shock. “How much is gold going for?”
“Remember how I said I already owned the car?” The group nodded. “So, you’re looking at the CEO of Strike Co., one of the largest companies on the planet.”
“And what? They saw your face and heard you misplaced your house keys, credit cards, bank card, license and just handed these things to you?” Grif asked.
“Apparently I accidentally get those destroyed all the time when testing equipment.”
“So you’re just as crazy on this side of the looking glass. Good to know.” Vital chuckled. “Also, at the risk of Murphy’s law firing on me again, I shall quote from our dear friend, Firebrand. ‘Convenient!’” He flinched, bracing himself for whatever might come.
“Vital, not everything is going to invoke Murphy. We do not live in some cartoon or world dictated by fictional laws. Please calm down, because it is getting old.”
Grif looked away from the group and winked to no one in particular.
Vital cocked an eyebrow. “Pensword, you might want to consider going over some of Matthew’s memories of Ponyville from before he met Lunar Fang. Something’s telling me you’ve got a few blanks.”
“Hence why I said that,” Pensword answered. “Those memories are a caricature. It would be like going back in time to the seventeen hundreds and only having Liberty’s Kids to fall back on.” He looked to Vital. “Completely different things, to be honest.”
“Anyway, where do we find the largest steaks, meatiest burgers, or cheesiest pizzas? I’m hungry,” Grif said.
“I’ll either make it or order it when we get home,” Hammer Strike replied.
“Sounds good to me. I love a good pizza.” Vital grinned. “Think we could make it a supreme? Or if we want to keep it vegetarian for Twilight, how about we go with a spinach pizza with a white créme sauce?”
“That does sound pretty good about now,” Twilight said as she looked down at her own stomach. It let loose a growl. “How did you four deal with this on a regular basis as humans? It’s no wonder you were able to hold your own against Princess Luna, Grif.”
“Internal balancing system, full on heating system for a body without fur, five separately mobile appendages at the end of each limb, it all burns calories.” Grif shrugged. “That, and we’re teenagers. I’m not sure how it is for Ponies, but teenage Humans are almost always hungry when they’re at their metabolic peak, usually because of the changes the body is going through.”
“... Oh. Well, I guess that makes sense. So do I just have to learn to deal with the hunger then?”
“I’m pretty sure Hammer Strike can fix us up with an allowance so we can get snacks and other things to keep us satisfied. You don’t have to worry, Twilight.”
“Or just pack things from home. I got plenty of groceries,” Hammer replied.
“That works, too.” Vital grinned. “Ah, Chex Mix, how much I have missed you.”
“Can we at least get book money?” Grif asked. “There was an expy of Musashi here, and if he wrote a certain book, I want to get my hands on it.”
“We’ll see,” Hammer Strike said, slowing the vehicle down as he pointed towards their right. “There it is.”
“It’s very…. Okay, honestly, I got nothing,” Grif said. A great blue lake shimmered in the afternoon sun to the east of a flowing, perfectly trimmed, emerald yard. The wrought iron gates of the establishment bore Hammer Strike’s cutie mark, carved into both sides. A series of birch and willow trees added extra texture while rose bushes and other flower arrangements dotted the yard to add variety.
As they drew up to the house itself, its shadow blotted out the sun with its wide two story frame. A redwood stained two layer balcony stood out at the front with red painted lattice work at its foundation. Two large glass doors shone prominently on top, while the main entryway was marked by a pair of matching red doors with a white trimming. The rest of the house was built out of a pale granite that had been cut and polished to a sheen. A solid line of white trimming ran around the the perimeter of the house, dividing the two floors one from the other. To the right of the building, a tall red brick fireplace rose up along the base of the house. A few casual puffs of smoke puffed up from the stacks, giving the home a lived-in sort of feel. As the drive wound around, they got a glimpse of the back yard, where the dual porch wrapped around for a nice view and sunbathing location. A positively gigantic pool, complete with interior temperature control and ten foot slope reflected the sun’s light while the grey paving of the patio and walkway reflected dimly, its slightly ridged texture glittering. A wooden table and series of lawn chairs waited on the grass to cool hot feet running from the pool to the barbeque that waited out by the corner of the lawn. A five foot tall stone wall divided the inner yard from the outer yard.
“... Well, I’m officially blown away,” Vital Spark said. “This is fancier than the rental place my family went to back at Lake Tahoe for our reunion.”
“It’s certainly not small,” Lunar Fang said. “Reminds me of some of the houses in Outer Canterlot.”
“This is what happens when you want to spend money,” Hammer Strike commented as he came to a halt next to the gate, a keypad right next to his window. He hummed as he put in a code, resulting in a green light flashing from said keypad and the gate opening.
Pensword stared. “I…” He blinked. “I have seen few homes bigger than this, and one is gone due to arson. The other is lived in by royalty or nobility.” He looked around the property once more. “This is ... well, I know I am going to enjoy doing my homework outside.”
“By the way, Hammer Strike, I’m going to need a note excusing me and Twilight from class this afternoon,” Grif said. “Somebody kinda got caught up in the school library.”
“Again, I’ll see to it,” Hammer Strike said, bringing the car to a halt in the garage. “Alright, so, you can all go explore and pick out rooms besides the one that is obviously mine.” He pulled the car in park just in front of the garage and pressed a button by the steering wheel, which caused the Hummer’s trunk to pop open.
“So we need to unload everything?” Grif asked as he made his way back, having already undone his seatbelt.
“I’m good with that.” Vital smiled as he disengaged and joined Grif.
“Okay, just give me some items to bring in. I can have at least three bags per arm,” Pensword said.
The group each grabbed bags and in a matter of minutes the large load of cargo was transferred into the house. Wine red carpeting covered a majority of the floor space save for the kitchen area, which was floored with black marble tiling. A stainless steel fridge and oven stood side by side, walled in by the matching marble countertops. Across the way, a large double sink sat with drying rack and pad to clean any dishes too large for the dishwasher. Suspended over the counter was a line of cherry wood cupboards with matching shelves and drawers occupying the space under the countertop. A large island stood across from it, carrying other smaller kitchen devices and extra storage space.
The rest of the house, or at least what they had seen thus far, was a wide hallway with a series of connected doors. At the end of said hallway was a large wooden spiral staircase leading to the next floor. After setting everything down in the kitchen area, the group explored the rest of the house revealing a plush living room with a large leather couch and two leather arm chairs before a positively gigantic wall-mounted TV set. Stereo speakers circled the room, and what looked mysteriously like a Blu-ray DVD player was on a wide wooden entertainment stand beneath the TV. There were several other devices, but the group couldn’t quite figure them all out.
Behind the first floor doors, they discovered a workout room with a punching bag, treadmill, several sets of weights, and other such equipment. A large slate-tiled bathroom with, amongst many other things, a tub that could probably fit ten fairly hefty people with no major room issues adjoined the workout room. When the final door opened, both Grif and Twilight stopped dead, eyes widening as they scanned the large shelves filled with old dusty tomes. Two arm chairs sat with a coffee table between them before an elegant fireplace that was obviously connected to the outside chimney.
“A private library. It’s ... it’s….” Twilight wiped a tear.
“Uh, guys, shouldn’t we be looking for our rooms first? The library can wait till after we unpack,” Vital said. “It’ll be here when we get back.”
Several moments of whining negotiations later, they managed to pull the two bibliophiles away, and the group ascended to the upper level. Grif discovered his room nigh instantly as he opened a door to reveal teal colored wallpaper hosting a large flat screen TV and three different vintage arcade machines. A vintage writing desk stood against the far wall. The bed was also decently large, which helped given his larger-than-average size. Grinning, he walked over and plopped into the bed. “I’m home.” He laughed.
“If we can’t find our room, I’ll set the cots up in the library,” Pensword said, only to eep in surprise as Lunar Fang kissed him full on the mouth, wrapping her arms around him.
“You used two contractions in a row.” She purred happily as she looked him in the eye.
“This house is huge, guys, I’m pretty sure finding a room for each of us won’t be a problem.” Much to his surprise, Vital Spark found a brass placard on a door with his name on it. “... Oh yeah. Exchange student. The Hammer Strike of this world would’ve prepared a room for me.” Opening the door, Vital was immediately struck by the grassland motif on the wallpaper. Various trees sprouted across the plains portrayed alongside a few sets of basic huts. A simple desk with three drawers on either side and a wide space sat next to the window with dark green curtains. To his right, much like Grif’s room, a large screen TV had been mounted to the wall. To his left, an extra long twin had been set up, its pillows and bedding already prepared for him. A dark black wood headboard carved with various inscriptions of animals and men and women dancing around a fire invoked the sense of tribalism and ritual. For some reason, he found the smell of the room comforting as he sat on the bed. Laying flat on the mattress, he looked up to see a black ceiling with little pinpricks of light bulbs just barely peeking through the molding. He wouldn’t be surprised if there were a remote somewhere around to help adjust the settings. “Well, that’s one thing the Hammer Strikes seem to have in common. They both think of everything.” With that said, he got up again and made his way back out of the room. He could explore the closet later.
“So, should we get Twilight to the guest bedroom?” Pensword asked as Vital re-emerged.
“I’m guessing there’s a whole fleet of guest rooms. We’ll just let Twilight pick whichever one tickles her fancy,” Vital replied.
The Next room they found was in the far corner of the house. The first thing they noticed was that the bed frame was made from antique brass with a king sized mattress. A reading bookshelf sat in the corner with a small round table and chair for curling up with a good read. A fireplace sat in front opposite the bed beneath a smaller flat screen TV. On the wall to the right, a large painting of a historic cityscape stared the historian in the face. The wallpaper was done tastefully with a light tan color. The lower half of the wall had been covered in wood paneling. The carpet was nice and short, dyed a natural dark blue. Two bedside tables stood symmetrically on either side of the bed. A phone waited on one stand, an alarm clock on the other. There was no closet, but a wardrobe near the window seat would serve the occupants’ needs well enough. “We’ll take this one,” Lunar Fang said, eying Pensword amorously. She proceeded to close the door. A few seconds later, the bolt had been thrown with a final click.
The heroes reconvened in the living room and reclined on the leather couches while Shawn worked at the stove to prepare the promised pizzas.
Grif was practically giggling as he flipped through an old dusty tome. “The Book of the Five Circles as penned by Ultimate Edge. This is a manual that redefined sword fighting and several of the rules of warfare. It’s still used today by some militaries alongside The Art of War. A private copy like this must be so expensive. Hammer Strike, can I keep this book?”
“Sure,” Hammer Strike called out from the kitchen.
“Art of War? I need this world’s version to compare the differences,” Pensword said, looking happily at the books on the table. A dreamy smile had been on his face ever since he and Lunar Fang had come back from their little disappearing act earlier.
“I know these are supposed to be major fighting works, but do you guys really think we’ll need them here? I mean, I know Sunset is probably planning something bad, but I doubt it’ll come to swordplay,” Vital Spark said.
Pensword actually barked out his laughter. “The Art of War can be, and has been, applied for many aspects ranging from sports teams to high level business boards,” Pensword said as he chuckled. “It’s useful for lots of areas of life, not just war.”
“Oh, I’m taking this home,” Grif said. “It belonged to Hammer Strike, and he gave it to me as a gift, so it’s perfectly legal.”
“Even though it’s an alternate dimension Hammer Strike, and not this dimension’s?” Vital asked.
“You keep playing as if the moral side to ethics is going to stop me when the technical side says I am in the right. I am keeping this book,” Grif said with a tone of finality.
“I still think it’s wrong,” Vital said, then shrugged. “But I won’t stop you if that’s how you feel about it.”
“Um, Vital Spark, there were two other copies on the shelves in the warfare section of the library,” Lunar Fang said. “I don’t think it’ll hurt if Grif takes just one.”
“... Fine. But I still think it’s wrong.”
Pensword sighed as he put a hand to his forehead. “Vital, we are already going to be taking papers, pens, books, textbooks, and other items.” He pointed to his friends. “It has been over forty years for Hammer, twenty years for us, since we last lived in a Human society. Of course we are going to bring home items that will remind us of home.”
Vital Spark brought a hand to his forehead and promptly smacked it. “... And I just realized my entire argument is invalid because we’re staying in a house we don’t own, using resources that aren’t ours, and need to if we’re going to actually survive our stay here.” Vital slumped. “And now I feel like crap. Great.” He chuckled briefly. “Hey, Shawn, that comfort food ready yet? I think I need to put myself into a food coma for a bit.”
“Thirty seconds,” Hammer replied, still in the kitchen.
“Good. I am looking forward to some nice pizza pie,” Pensword said. “And yes, Comfort food is a must.”
“Thirty seconds also means you might as well come in here,” Hammer shouted.
“Let’s go. I could use something to get my mind off all this,” Vital said as he pushed himself up off the couch. “Gotta stay the course now that we’re on it, right?”
“Yes. Just be glad you do not have to battle through three squads of Gryphons wanting your head, heart, and liver,” Pensword replied as he stood up, then offered a hand to Lunar Fang. “Frankly, with what we have brought in loose change, we can easily reimburse the lost books.” He paused. “Also, do you think this world’s Hammer Strike would like us reimbursing him for lost books?”
“... Good point. He’d probably be happy to have something stolen, now that I think about it,” Vital said. “Assuming he’s like our Hammer Strike.” He turned to face the others. “Well? Are you all just going to sit there, or are you going to come eat? You heard the man. Dinner’s ready.”
Pensword looked Vital in the eye as he and Lunar Fang both shuffled past him, walking more like an old couple, but at least they were making progress. As he was about to enter the kitchen, he turned to face his friend once more. “Vital, please, just let us worry about the consequences. You worry too much as it is.”
Grif was on his feet in a moment and on the prowl for some pizza. Twilight stood up after him, snapped both arms out as she teetered, then waved them in circles. She was able to regain her balance just in time and make her way towards the kitchen without falling. Vital offered a helping hand and the pair made their way inside.
“Alright. Now that everyone’s had a nice meal, let’s get down to business,” Twilight said as she slapped a large gold-embossed blue volume on the table. “I found this during my studies in the Canterlot Library. It’s an old yearbook from when everything started going wrong here at the school.”
“Suspicions you have, hmm? Bring them to light, you must,” Grif said with his best Yoda impersonation.
“Um … what was that?” Twilight asked, her brow cocked in confusion. Everyone in the room did a facepalm except for Lunar Fang, who was just as clueless.
“It’s a reference to a movie series from back home. A character called Yoda speaks like that. It’s his unique quirk,” Vital Spark explained.
“Oh. Okay then.” Twilight proceeded to open the book to reveal five younger girls in a group. The hairstyles and faces of each made their identities very easy to discern, even if they had not met all of them yet.
“That looks like your friends,” Lunar Fang said.
“It is. They all look so close here. I just don’t understand what could’ve gone wrong. The way Applejack and Pinkie were all talking today, not to mention Fluttershy … it just doesn’t add up. Something must have happened, and the only thing that I can see to make a difference is this.” She flipped open to a new page portraying a large stage with purple curtains hanging behind. A familiar looking girl with fiery red-and-yellow hair and a cute pink dress beamed out at the camera, a look of bewildered happiness perfectly captured.
“She looks so … nice,” Vital said, surprised as he looked over the image. “That’s not the face of the Sunset I met today.”
“This was taken three years ago, back just a little ways before Celestia sent me away to reclaim the elements. A lot can change in that amount of time,” Twilight responded dubiously as she looked over the photo.
“Old wounds can fester,” Grif said. “Either way, she identified these five as a threat. Hmm…” Grif rubbed his chin in contemplation “...oh…”
“The mirror opens every thirty moons, right?” Vital asked. “That means she probably came back to Equestria multiple times for reconnaissance. Once she found out about Twilight’s accomplishments, she probably put two and two and together about the others. Did I get it right, Grif?”
“Not quite, Vital. She was Celestia's student when Twilight became her student. Think about what that means. What was significant about Celestia taking twilight as her student?”
Lunar Fang answered. “The magic surge. You don’t forget about a giant baby dragon breaking through the roof of the magic academy.”
“What caused the surge?” Grif said.
“The Sonic Rainboom,” Pensword answered, his voice a little stunned. “I overheard the CMC talking about the cutie marks, and Rainbow Dash told me about it later.
“Sunset was Celestia’s trusted student when Celestia read the report regarding the rainboom and the five ripple events it caused. She would have connected the dots the same way Celestia did. A couple months go by, Celestia investigates the matter further, information goes by Sunset. Sunset Shimmer has an eidetic memory,” Grif said he looked at there faces. “Okay, I may have borrowed cheerilee's password to do a little snooping. I had to know who we were dealing with.”
“... I am so happy you are on our side,” Pensword said.
Vital’s eyes widened, he breathed heavily, but other than that, he surprisingly kept his calm. “Okay, for the record, I still don’t support what you did. But since you did it to get intel and save us a whole lot of headache, I’ll overlook it. Just this once. I still wish I could get Sunset’s side of the story though. If someone could just get to talk with her for a bit, maybe she could be reasoned with.”
Pensword shook his head. “I forbid it,” he said, his voice stern and commanding. “She is a danger, and I will not risk her using you as a hostage.” He looked like he was about to start on something, but Lunar Fang grabbed his hand and squeezed. Pensword sagged.
“It’s worth a shot at least. If she asks why I helped Twilight, I can just tell her I don’t like when people are being bullies. I mean, come on, I know what it’s like to have photos and videos taken without my permission.” His countenance darkened. “It wasn’t pleasant. I should be able to convince her I’m neutral in this affair.”
The expression on Pensword’s face shifted on a rollercoaster from shock to a sputter of anger to a long groan. Finally, he sighed and put a hand to his face. “Neutrality toward affairs of this kind might lead to a situation that sees her invading Poland.” He laid his hands to the table. “I cannot stress enough that this is a situation that could turn dangerous. She took the Element of Magic for a purpose. She created a facillime to be placed in its spot, meaning she has a plan, a plan that could use a magical artifact in a world that should be devoid of magic.” He turned to Twilight. “Computers are technology.” He paused, then chuckled. “Then again, technology sufficiently advanced would be indistinguishable from magic.” He frowned. “Faust’s loving feathers, I wish we could talk her down, but that is a dangerous point. She wants a magic crown. She was a Unicorn. Those two mixing will be bad.”
Grif plowed through Pensword’s objections like cobwebs. “While you do that, Vital, the rest of us will focus on not letting Sunset get the crown. I’ll take the place of Twilight’s campaign manager. Lunar Fang, you’ll be helping me. Pensword, I need you to keep track of the general feel. Get me information on Twilight’s reputation and how we’re doing, okay?”
“Will do. I seem to get that a lot in schools. I ask, they answer. I’ll make sure you all are appraised.”
Vital winced briefly. “Oh … and something else. You should probably try to get the rest of the girls back together, Twilight. Call it a hunch.”
“Yeah, I realized that. I just wish I had a good situation to do so,” Grif said.
“Indeed. Maybe you can head that branch, Twilight. Focus on reuniting your friends.”
Twilight nodded. “I agree. If they’re anything like my friends back home, we should be able to solve their problems in no time. I’ll just have to figure out where the others are … and how to get them all together under one roof without having everything explode. Yeah … everything’s going to be just fine.” She sighed heavily. “I’ll see what I can dig up.”
“Hammer Strike, can I borrow about two grand for campaign funding?” Grif asked.
Hammer Strike simply tossed a pouch to Grif from where he was seated on the couch.
“Thanks,” Grif said, catching it without much thought.
“So we all know what our assignments are then?” Vital asked.
“Listen closely, Vital. If she suspects anything, you get out of there, okay? You’re going in behind enemy lines heavily here.”
“I know, Grif. But if there’s a way to end this without violence, I want to help find it. I’ll be careful, I promise.”
“Oh, and Twilight, be ready. Tomorrow may be a bit rough,” Grif said.
“How come?”
“You were being spied on today, Twilight. Fights to be crowned princess at a formal are never pretty,” Vital Spark said. “Trust me, I’ve seen enough teenage cat fights to know.”
“Applejack said something like that. I just can’t believe someone would be willing to try to hurt me just to win, though.”
“Evil has few limits,” Grif said sagely.
“We’ll just all have to do our best to grin and bear it. Things should work out just fine. They always do in Equestria, after all, even if we have to pass through some near-death experiences first.”
“Gee … thanks, Vital Spark.” Twilight heaved a heavy sigh. “I’m going to head to bed. See what more research I can get done tonight. I’ll see you all in the morning.” With that, she got off the stool she was sitting on and made her way for the stairs.
Snips shook in fear as he stood outside Sunset’s small apartment. He knocked on the door, wincing as he remembered Grif’s words. Sunset wasn’t going to be happy. The door opened to reveal a small open space. To the left of the little entry hall, a kitchen sat, waiting to be used. To the right, a living space waited with two symmetrical white leather couches facing one another and a large screen TV mounted to the wall. Red drapes covered the window and the yellow and red walls blended well with the dark green carpet. Snails was sitting perfectly still, staring at the other couch. His phone waited on the glass coffee table, where a lava lamp and glass blown flame sat to accent the room. Pictures of Sunset adorned the walls in frames, showing her progress from the kinder, ambitious girl to the popularity monger she was today. Snips gulped.
Sunset leaned against the wall as she closed the door behind Snips. Her eyes seemed to blaze as she glared at him. “So, Snails tells me that you got caught.” Her tone was icy as she spoke.
“They ambushed us. I-I didn’t stand a chance. They … they reset my phone,” He said, his eyes beginning to tear up as he quailed before the fury that was Sunset Shimmer.
“How could he have pulled that off? Equestria is so far behind technologically, he should have bumbled with it. What did he say?” Sunset demanded as she pulled Snips by the collar of his shirt.
“H-he said If you want the crown, you’ll have to face C-celestia’s Ghost, a-an Avatar of Winds, and a Moonkissed Pegasus. I-I don’t know what they mean. He just told me to tell you. Please, don’t hurt me,” Snips blurted out quickly
The next few words out of her mouth came in snarls and growls that were unintelligible to Snips or Snails. “This is going to make things harder.”
“But we got the video, right, Miss Shimmer?” Snails asked with his usual goofy smile. “That’s gotta count for something, right?”
“We’ll have to get on that right away,” Sunset said, straightening immediately. “If I want to win the crown, we’re going to have to be faster and more ruthless.” She growled darkly. “Celestia thinks her pet can beat me just because she sent a few extras, but we’ll prove her wrong.”
“What’s Principal Celestia got to do with this? And what’s the big deal? That’s like only three more. You’ve got the entire Football team under your control,” Snails said as Snips continued to tremble.
“Did you look in his eyes? Did you feel the aura of danger in the air?” Sunset scolded. “We can’t afford to underestimate any of them. The large one was obviously the Avatar of Winds. The boy and girl who are always together could be Pensword and Lunar Fang, so the question is, where is Celestia’s Ghost?” Sunset looked to snips and snails. “Come on, get to work,” she barked. “We need that video uploaded before tomorrow morning!”
Snips and Snails jumped, rushed for each other, promptly smashed their heads yet again, then rubbed them and moaned as they pulled out Sunset’s laptop and connected Snails’ phone.
“Twilight’s gonna regret trying to cross me,” Sunset growled as her eyes narrowed in the shadows.
Twilight Sparkle sat at the empty desk pressing her hands to her head as the myriad of shouts and insults passed over her like arrow fire in a battlefield. The day had started out with such high hopes. She had come with the others to school with plans to wow every social group out there. She had painstakingly made a list of talking points, and then Grif had proceeded to burn that list and make her a list of talking points that teenagers would actually care about in this world. Hammer Strike had dropped them off at school bright and early so they could get an early start, and Twilight had managed not to slam into the door when entering the school this time. Unfortunately, that good fortune went downhill when the five had stepped inside.
Whispering seemed to echo whenever they passed by. Snickers and giggles followed Twilight’s gaze, and the looks she received made her feel entirely uncomfortable for some reason. Just as she stopped to inquire what the joke was, she was pulled into an empty classroom by a familiar figure. The white-skinned, purple-haired girl who could only be Rarity proceeded to rummage through her bag before forcing Twilight into a blue dress with a blond wig. She was halfway through contemplating making Spike a rabbit when Applejack walked in, followed moments later by Pinkie Pie, and then Fluttershy. Grif, Pensword, Lunar Fang, and Vital Spark stood against the back wall as the tension in the room instantly thickened. The girls proceeded to each offer their condolences about something which had naturally led to Twilight asking the required question. The answer had been… disheartening.
Rarity used her laptop to bring up the internet and proceeded to bring up a video on the thing this world called the internet, as Grif had explained it. The video showed Twilight in several decidedly silly, goofy, or downright unflattering positions as Sunset Shimmer proceeded to berate her. Twilight had felt instant despair, and had done nothing to hide this as she lamented how no one would vote for her. Fluttershy had tried to offer comfort by stating she would still vote for her. This in turn led to each girl offering their own support, only for another to berate them before offering their own. This proved to spark the fuse which had led to things as they were now. Someone tapped Twilight’s shoulder gently. Grif looked at her, offering a kind smile and a large padded mallet as he motioned towards a giant gong hanging nearby. Twilight nodded and smiled, wiping the tears in her eyes.
The sound the followed shook the very windows of the music room as Twilight looked at each of the four girls. “Thank you. All of you. I really appreciate it, but if you really all want to help me, then you need to stop fighting. What started all of this in the first place, anyway? You all used to be such good friends.” She pulled out the old yearbook from her backpack and opened up to the familiar page.
“The Freshmen Fair. Y’all remember that?” Applejack said nostalgically as she looked at the picture.
“Mm-hmm.” Pinkie nodded sadly.
“Yes,” rarity confirmed.
“But something happened, didn’t it?” Twilight asked. The uneasy and hurt glances told the whole story. “I … I think it might’ve been Sunset Shimmer,” she said, frowning. “You said so yourself. She ruined everything here in Canterlot High and made everyone afraid of her. Who better to stand up to her than the five most popular girls in the school?”
Rarity huffed, crossed her arms, and looked away. “Well, that’s a nice theory, Twilight, but Sunset Shimmer had nothing to do with it!”
“She’s right. Sunset Shimmer isn’t the one who ruined my silent auction for the animal shelter by bringing fireworks and noisemakers. It was supposed to be a serious event! And Pinkie Pie ruined it!” Fluttershy said.
Pinkie’s eyes widened in shock. “What are you talking about? I got a text from you saying you didn’t want a silent auction! You wanted a huge party!”
Fluttershy stepped back. “Uh ... I never sent you a text.”
“You didn’t?”
“You don’t think she’s the one that's been sending me those emails, do you?” Rarity spoke up, still in a huff, but a glimmer of doubt echoed in her voice. “Every time I volunteer to help with decorations at a school function, I get an email from Pinkie Pie,” she pointed her finger accusingly, “saying she has plenty of volunteers! And then I find out she’s done everything herself!”
“I never sent out any emails!” Pinkie Pie thrust her hands out exasperatedly.
“Maybe she’s the reason Rainbow Dash never showed up for my bake sale,” Applejack questioned, just as Grif, Pensword, and Vital Spark performed a synchronized facepalm.
“Seriously? Seriously?” Vital fumed. “You girls didn’t even bother to talk to each other about why you didn’t show up? Come on. You’re friends. You should at least give each other a chance to explain yourselves before you go and do something like this. Seriously, how much time have you five wasted because you weren’t willing to communicate?” He marched up to the gathered girls and grabbed Applejack by the arm. “You, with me, now.”
“Hey! Where do you think you’re taking me?” Applejack said, genuinely surprised at his physical strength.
“Where do you think?” he asked as he stomped out of the room, dragging the blond with him. The others followed behind.
“... He’s scary when he’s angry,” Fluttershy noted. The others nodded quietly. Grif chuckled to himself as he grabbed Applejack’s and Vital’s discarded bags and followed after the group.
“I’m so proud.”
Hammer Strike sighed to himself as he went through a few keys one-handed. After a moment, he unlocked the door and entered. “Note to self: memorize layout of the city so I don’t drive around for an hour looking for a shop.”
“I’ll … try to keep that in mind,” he heard himself say. Looking up, he found, well, himself standing across from him.
After a few moments of staring at each other, Equestria Hammer Strike shrugged. “I honestly thought I wouldn’t run into myself. I mean, I’m only here for five days.”
The other Hammer Strike gave him a quizzical stare as he crossed his arms. “So, I can’t really call you a fake unless you spent a load of money just to make yourself look, sound, and act like me. Or, in this case, would it be us?”
“You know what? I would go with us.”
“I did wonder what it would be like to have a twin.”
“Except for the fact that we are the same individual, including personality.”
“Yeah.”
Equestria Hammer Strike placed his bag onto a nearby table. “Considering I didn’t come here alone, as I’m sure you know, we should differentiate ourselves sooner, rather than later.”
“And your plan is?”
“Call me Shawn. You stay Hammer Strike.”
“Where in the world did you get that name from?” the other Hammer Strike questioned as he leaned against one of the walls.
“I’m three dimensions down from home. I’d be surprised it wasn’t something insane considering most of our plans,” Shawn said, crossing his arms.
Hammer Strike went to respond, only to pause and think for a moment. “Touché.”
After Shawn placed a few bags away, Hammer Strike finally found some form of a new conversation. “So, where did you come from? You mentioned dimensions, but nothing specific yet.”
“Twenty-something years growing up where I was born, Earth. Fell through a thin veil to a new dimension with two others, my friends, and landed in Equis, a world inhabited by Ponies, Gryphons, Dragons, Yaks, Horses, Diamond Dogs, and other creatures. Dealt with enough time problems that I spent thirty years in a dummy and I’m scattered across their history to the point where I am the oldest being still alive. And then someone came, stole a powerful artifact, and ran through a rift to this place.”
Hammer Strike stared at him for a moment. “Wow. Eventful.”
“You’re telling me.”
“I am telling me.”
“Wow, even I can’t resist a bad pun in this dimension.”
“Got to keep myself entertained some way.”
Shawn face palmed with a heavy sigh. “What? You don’t create random gear for random cases? Experiment with dangerous tech and magic that could kill you in the blink of an eye?”
“Tech, yes. Magic, that would be interesting.” Hammer hummed to himself.
“Wait, you don’t have magic here? I swear I can feel a slight charge going, at least enough to charge my field.”
“Yeah, I’d like to mess with that, if I could, but I can’t, so ... out of luck there.” Hammer shrugged. “Unless you can teach me how to use it?” he asked, raising a brow in question.
“Haven’t tested it yet, and I’d rather not kill me, considering the effect I have on this world.”
“Would it be suicide if you killed me?”
“Good question.… I think it’d be a yes.”
After a few moments of sitting in silence, Hammer Strike looked over to the living room and then back to Shawn. “Want to watch some TV?”
Shawn shrugged. “Yeah.”
The group stood by the bleachers, watching in the distance as Rainbow Dash and Applejack talked to each other with Vital Spark standing cross-armed not far away.
“They’re actually talking! That’s a good sign,” Rarity noted hopefully as the two gestured wildly while they spoke before they embraced each other.
“Hugs! Ooh, hugs are always good,” Pinkie noted as the three people moved to approach them.
“There. Problem solved. Now, if you all would kindly excuse me, I have some frustration to work off,” Vital said, immediately vacating the arena as he made his way towards the gymnasium.
“Somebody, and I think we all can guess who, told Rainbow Dash that my bakesale had been moved to a different day. Dash showed up with the softball team and thought that I’d cancelled on her!”
“Rainbow Dash idly bounced a soccer ball as she appraised Twilight. “So you’re looking to dethrone Sunset Shimmer and become Princess of the Fall Formal, huh? Gotta say, I’d really love to see that happen. I’d totally help you out. All you gotta do is beat me at a game of one on one!” Rainbow said.
“What?” Twilight asked, bewildered.
“First to five goals wins,” Rainbow said before dropping and kicking the ball, which immediately hit the far goalpost. “One-zip!”
The match that followed was almost painful to look at. Twilight’s battle mage training had improved her physical capabilities, true enough, but her physical skills were nowhere near strong enough to keep up with Rainbow, who ran circles around her, quite literally at one point. The match got to the point where Rainbow simply let Twilight have the ball. Twilight’s kick went wide, but scraped the ball, which caused it to roll slowly towards the goal post before stopping gently at Dash’s feet. She gave it a kick and scored her fifth goal with seemingly no effort.
“That’s game,” she called to a panting Twilight.
As Twilight approached her friends, Rarity attempted to encourage her. “I ... really thought you would pull it off there in the end,” she offered halfheartedly.
Rainbow smiled at Twilight. “So what’s the plan? How can I help you be Princess instead of Sunset Shimmer?” Off to the side, Grif stripped off his hoodie and left it on a nearby seat, the epée wrapped up inside it.
“But … I … lost,” Twilight said between breaths.
“Of course you did. I’m awesome!” Rainbow seemed not to hear the low growl from behind her as she continued. “But I’m not going to help just anybody beat Sunset Shimmer! The princess of the Fall Formal has to be somebody with heart and determination, and you proved you got them both.”
“Rainbow Miriam Dash!” Grif called from the soccer field, holding a soccer ball in his hand. “You, me, best of five, right here, right now!” His eyes seemed to blaze as he spoke. He knew he shouldn’t be focusing on her, but he had been fraying at the edges with the incredible arrogance of the Pegasus for some time, and her human self’s double dose had finally pushed him over the edge. It was time to force-feed someone a slice of humble pie, and right now he could care less who.
Rainbow scoffed. “Yeah, right. Do you really wanna do this? I’d hate to make you look bad in front of all your friends.”
The smile that claimed Grif’s face made her skin crawl. “Humor me,” he said, before dropping the ball, catching it on the back his leg, boosting it up, and bouncing it off of his right bicep before kicking the ball. To the trained eye, they may have picked up the slight twist of his foot that lessened the force on the ball, stopping it short on the net, but Rainbow wasn’t well trained.
“Ha! You missed!” She ran to the ball, dribbled it between her legs, kicked it over her head a few times, juggled it with her knees, kicked it back and forth with her heels, then kicked it as high as she could before jumping up in mid-air, turning over backwards, and slamming the ball with her foot, which sent it flying towards the opposing goal post.
The others watched as the ball hurtled to the goal far to Grif’s side. For an instant, it looked like it would go past him and right into the goal, only to be stopped at the last second in a blur of motion as Grif intercepted the ball with his forehead. He sent it rocketing forwards before racing after it. Sweeping with his legs, he sent it towards Rainbow’s goal with blazing speed. “What's this, mon petite cherie? All style and no substance!”
Rainbow barely managed to get to the post in time, taking a heavy hit to the abdomen as the ball made impact, knocking the wind out of her. The rest of the game didn’t go much better. It was two minutes later when a panting Rainbow Dash looked up at Grif as she took the soccer ball from the net and dropped it in front of her. If Grif scored this last time, he would win the match he’d asked for. Fire flickered in her eyes, but a smile Grif could read showed that he might have won her loyalty as well.
“Ladies first.” Grif bowed theatrically.
Rainbow Dash did something incredibly surprising. For once, she didn’t dash forward. She moved cautiously, maintaining full control of the ball as she kept it close to her feet. Doing her best to psyche her opponent out, she crossed the field in a zigzag pattern. Her eyes darted back and forth between the ground, ball, Grif, and back again. As she reached the last quarter of the field, she darted once again, only to find empty air in the place Grif should have been. Suddenly, she couldn’t feel the ball between her legs. In a controlled burst of speed, Grif had made his way past her, neatly stealing the ball. Almost taunting her, he slowed himself down. Rainbow Dash gaped as he began to dribble the ball across the field towards her goal post. She turned around and raced after him as fast as her legs could carry her, but surprisingly, she didn’t look angry, she actually looked excited at the challenge.
“I must say, you are fast, my friend, but your attitude needs work. What is the purpose of the sport if you are not sportsman like?” Grif smiled as she moved to swipe the ball. He kicked it up to avoid Rainbow Dash’s foot before spinning around to send the ball hurtling towards her goal with a forceful kick. There was no question whether he scored as the ball landed in the net. “You may just ruin the game for the other players.”
“Maybe you should watch my next match,” she snapped. “You ever think that maybe I’m just tired of hearing all the other girls in the school saying they’re going to beat Sunset only to back out at the last minute? I am sick of hearing all talk and no action.” She picked up her ball and held it in the crook of her elbow. “But you guys are different. She,” Rainbow Dash pointed at Twilight. “She is different. And I can see that. Wither her, I know things can happen, even with that stupid video Sunset put out. So when do we start, boss?”
“Yes, but the important thing to consider is if your ego crushes everyone else to make them feel insecure.” Grif’s tone was flat “Then will they not grow to resent you for it? Learn this lesson well, Rainbow Dash. There is always a bigger fish. There is always a sharper predator. Let your actions brag your achievements. Then others will respect you all the more for it.”
Rainbow Dash almost acted like she was going to refute the comment before she huffed. “Well maybe you can use that big brain of yours to help Twilight win against Sunset? We only have four days counting today.”
“Oh non non, mon cherie. I am merely the the spark. The brain has yet to reveal itself for this little group.” He smiled. “Now we shall finish this at lunch, I think. The bell should be ringing in…” Grif went to check his phone as the school bell rang. “There we go. Let’s run!” And with that, Grif was racing towards the school, the group following after him.
“I have never seen anyone run that fast for the start of school in my life.” Applejack muttered as Rainbow Dash quickly took off in what looked like an impromptu foot race.
Pinkie Pie laughed as she joined the race, while the others followed at a more dignified pace. Pensword paused and swung around, poking his head under the bleachers, and saw nothing. He frowned. He could have sworn he’d heard snickering under there. Sighing, he shook his head, still frowning as he turned to face Lunar Fang. “Dear, be on the lookout. We may have some spies under us.”
“Oh, I know. I could hear Snip and Snails giggling to themselves.”
“I thought so,” Pensword responded. “So, we see what they have planned and we shut them down?”
“No,” Lunar Fang answered. “I think you should leave a noodle in the head of one Flash Sentry. He’s been been giving Twilight the googly eyes the last couple of days.”
Pensword laughed and shook his head. “Ah… paying it forward, I see,” He teased, planting a small kiss on her cheek and taking her hand as they strode for the doors together.
Grif chuckled as Twilight attempted to order oats on her latte. It was after school, and the group had gone to the Sugar Cube Café in order to sit down and discuss the situation. Grif had fortunately texted Hammer Strike in advance, explaining that they would be walking home and be late for important “saving Equestria kinda reasons.” He could have sworn the font had been monotone when he received the expected “meh” in response.
Pensword and Lunar Fang had engaged in a debate with Pinkie Pie over the fact that Pensword had somehow gotten ahold of a large mug of Earl Grey, while she was drinking her fourth large mug of hot chocolate. Lunar Fang rolled her eyes as she sipped her coffee.
Grif smiled as he approached the counter just in time to hear Twilight's collision with Flash Sentry. Turning his head to make sure no one was hurt, he let the two talk as he looked to Mrs. Cake.
“So…”
“Oh my, dearie. Before you start, I’m going to guess that you're here from overseas, right?” Mrs. Cake asked. Grif nodded quietly, somewhat shocked. “Then I think I’d better warn you we don’t carry a lot of the expensive imported coffees,” she said apologetically.
“Not a problem, madame,” Grif said, throwing his hands up. “All I wish is a second of whatever my friend had and an extra large hot chocolate… with a shot of raspberry… and possibly a sprinkle of cinnamon and chili pepper? With whipped cream, please,” he said meekly. When did his taste get so… demanding?
Fortunately, it seemed Mrs. Cake was used to such orders. She didn’t beat so much as an eyelash as she prepared the drinks. Grif thanked her and paid, coming back to the group in time to see a blushing Twilight get lectured by the others.
“Uh-uh,” Rarity said. “You're already trying to take her crown. I’d hate to see what Sunset Shimmer would do if you got her ex-boyfriend as well.”
Pensword suddenly choked on his tea while Lunar Fang patted him on the back. “How deep do this woman’s claws reach?” he hacked out.
“She’s had three years to sink them in,” Grif pointed out as he placed the new drink before Twilight.
Twilight seemed flustered by this “I’m not trying to… I don’t even know... we just accidentally…! Ex-boyfriend?”
“Flash broke up with her a few weeks ago. I can’t believe she hasn’t done something awful to him yet!” Fluttershy explained.
“Well, at least we know he has some sense,” Grif said.
“Maybe she’s just waiting until she has the power to do something really awful to him,” Twilight said quietly.
“Alright, girl... everybody, the dance is a little under three and a half days away, and we still don’t know how we’re gonna get Twilight the votes she needs to be named princess. Folks only know Twilight from the videos Sunset Shimmer posted online. We need to help people see her differently,” Applejack said.
“Well, as for the video,” Grif said as he worked his phone, “I’ve recruited one Vinyl Scratch and one Neon Lights to… reconfigure the video to show Twilight in a more positive light, so that’s a start.”
“Good. That’s going to help,” Pensword said. “However, we need something to pop. Something to get the school energized and…” he paused as he snapped his fingers. “A song!” he shouted, only to be hushed by the others. “Well, a song might work.” He looked to the others with a knowing smirk.
Grif’s eyes were mirrored surprisingly by Lunar Fang as they both glared icly at him over their drinks. “I take it you have some more to this? Because this hardly sounds like the situation.” Lunar fang raised an eyebrow at her husband.
“Of course,” Pensword replied. “But in high school, you have to do something flashy, something to be remembered and talked about, like in the school I went to. Some of the pranks were hilarious, ranging from sheep being let loose on the field to a few other things. These are teenagers we’re talking about here. We have to have something flashy and great to start the campaign.” His facial expression darkened. “There is no time for subtle strikes at the power base. We have to hit with all the force of a great typhoon.” Pensword steepled his fingers in front of his face as he put his elbows on the table. “That is why we will strike at lunch tomorrow.”
“I’ve got it!” Rarity stood up dramatically before blushing as she saw the reactions of her friends. She cleared her throat. “I mean I may have a solution. Now, this is an absolutely preposterous idea, but…” Rarity bent over to her bag and pulled out several pairs of pony-eared headbands and tails on sashes. They were all colored in vibrant blue and yellow. “What if we all wore these as a sign of unity?” The attempt not to laugh that was clearly written on Grif’s face made her realize the need for more exposition. “During our freshmen year they were very, very popular; a way for everybody to show school spirit! You know, ‘Go Canterlot Wondercolts!’” Grif raised an eyebrow as Rarity's stance became dejected. “Ahem, I haven’t sold any in ages. I mean, the bunch of us are all very different, but deep down we’re all Canterlot Wondercolts! Sunset Shimmer is the one who divided us. Twilight Sparkle is the one who united us, and we’re going to let everyone know it! What do you think?”
“I like it,” Pensword said, extending an expectant hand. “I’ll wear a pair.” He got three kisses on the cheek again as Lunar Fang looked on with pride.
“For the sake of Twilight’s campaign, I will as well,” Lunar Fang said.
“You have my support, Rarity. Hell, we’ll even pay you for them, but as a matter of pride, I will not wear them,” Grif said. “It would feel… wrong.”
“How long have you two been together?” Rarity asked, staring at Lunar Fang and Pensword after their little makeout session.
“What do you mean?” Lunar Fang asked with a cryptic smile.
“Well, y’all are always together, and all over each other,” Applejack noted.
“With those neat matching rings, you’d almost figure the two of you were….” the group fell silent for a moment, and the Equestrian visitors were sure they heard a series of clicks.
“You two are... married?” Rarity gasped.
“Yes…” Pensword answered before he realized the problem. “I, well…”
Lunar Fang smiled. “Our parents gave us permission. Where we come from, we can marry young if our parents consent.”
“It also helps that I happen to get royalties from two books I have written that are used in college universities,” Pensword whispered, looking at his plate.
“Wow,” Pinkie said, “You two have to be the youngest married couple I’ve ever met! That’s amazing!”
Lunar Fang and Pensword buried their laughter by kissing each other.
Vital Spark walked nervously down the now deserted halls of the school as he looked over the note he’d received once again.
Vital Spark,
I am writing this to you because Miss Silver Note has assigned me to help you catch up on the orchestra’s program. If you have the time, please meet me after school in the music room. We’ll work on organizing a schedule for practice times and get to know each other a little better. Many thanks.
Yours Truly,
Octavia Melody
“The things a guy has to do to readjust. This is just like my first move back when I was seven.” He chuckled at the fond memories. “Well, at least I’m a little better at getting the job done than I was back then.” With that finished, he pulled his new music folder up to his chest with one arm and pushed open the doors to the music room with the other. “Um… Octavia? Miss Melody? I’m here.” He stepped through. “Hello?”
“Octavia couldn’t make it,” a familiar voice spoke up as Sunset Shimmer entered his field of vision. “You’ll have to make do with little old me.”
“And you are…?” Vital asked. “I don’t think I recall seeing you in the orchestra when I first arrived. Oh, wait a moment, you’re that girl I met by the gym, aren’t you? You know, I never did get your name.” He smiled as he made his way towards the storage closet to grab his new school violin.
“You’re very convincing, Vital Spark,” she said cooly. “You play at home here a lot better than your other friends.”
“I’m just a little more easy going, I suppose. It helps with the adjustment. Culture is a little different over here compared to home, but Mister Strike sent me some pointers before I arrived.” He pulled down the case and emerged, clutching it by the handle. “So, are we setting up over there, or do you prefer to practice while standing?”
“Whatever your little group is planning, it won’t work,” she said. “The crown will be mine.”
Vital Spark sighed. “Alright, Sunset, how about you level with me and I’ll level with you? I really hate lying, and keeping up an act like this is really uncomfortable for me. First of all, there’s no real huge plan that I know of. At least not yet. Secondly, what’s the deal with the fixation on the crown? I mean seriously, it didn’t even exist when you left your world in the first place, so why are you so obsessed with it now?”
“It should have been mine!” Sunset growled. “Amongst all the promises that were made by Celestia to me, the crown was the greatest!”
“So what happened?” Vital asked, pulling up a chair for himself, then grabbing a second. He motioned to the empty chairs with the grace of a gentleman.
“At first, everything was fine, even when she took Twilight as a student, but as time went on, everything she promised me, everything she said I would do... she started to claim Twilight would do it.” She slumped a bit into a seat.
“And you felt betrayed by that.” Vital Spark sat for a time and looked at Sunset. He’d seen that look many times on his mission before he’d returned to his regular life and got sucked into all this. “When did she start changing?”
“About a year after she took in Twilight Sparkle,” Sunset said. “She had all these notes on these other ponies who were involved and she started getting obsessed with this grand scheme of hers.”
“Do you know why she was so obsessed, Sunset?”
“I found out after I started in Canterlot High. She did all this unnecessary cloak and dagger garbage to save Nightmare Moon.”
“Do you have any family back in Equestria, Sunset?”
“Not anymore.” Sunset sighed.
“I don’t have any either, well, not biological. But I did have some family elsewhere. Two sisters, a brother, and two parents. When I was younger, I hurt my little sister. I made her cry, and I made her retreat to her room. You have no idea how horrible that made me feel. I was willing to do anything, anything at all to take back what happened, but I couldn’t. All I was able to do was apologize. For me, it wasn’t so bad because my little sister was still with me. Celestia had to banish her own sister to the moon for a millennium because she was blind like I was once. And she had to live with that guilt for all those years.
“Don’t get me wrong. I’m not saying it excuses her actions. She did do some wrong. And if what you say is true, that you chose to leave because she dropped you like a hot potato, then I’d say you were justified. But it does give you some perspective and understanding into her obsession. I’d like to ask you a few things, just so I can get the straight of it, though. I’d heard you got involved in some very dangerous magics before you left, magics that could have caused you and many others harm. Is there any truth to this?”
Sunset scoffed as she got to her feet. “I knew what I was doing. I’m not some stupid foal who gets in over her head to impress others. I never reached for magic I couldn’t perform.” She shoved her chair back, knocking it over as she made her way to leave. “Tell your friends to back off. This isn’t Equestria. Things work my way here.” With that said, she stormed out of the room.
Vital Spark sighed. “Oh, Sunset. I wish you could see what you’re doing. In the end, you’ll only hurt yourself.” His eyes hardened as he picked up the chair and slammed it down on top of the others. “But I’ll be damned before I let you destroy Harmony.”
“Hammer Strike, are you home?” Grif asked as they let themselves in.
“What’s up?”
“How’s it going?” two of the same voice responded.
“...Just so we’re clear, there are two of them, right?” Grif asked, turning to face Vital. “I’m not just going crazy?”
“Nope,” both Hammer Strikes replied with identical grins. One was standing near the kitchen doorway with a bag of chips while the other was sitting on the couch.
“Okay, what the feathers is going on?” Grif demanded.
Both turned toward each other before the one at the doorway responded. “First things first. Call me by another familiar name when both of us are here.”
“Secondly,” the one on the couch started, “nice to meet the alternate versions of the students I am sponsoring.”
“I hope it doesn’t mess things up that I picked Canterlot High,” Pensword said with a light chuckle. “Still… can I have the two books my counterpart wrote?”
Hammer Strike waved his hand dismissively at Pensword’s mention of the Canterlot High enrollment. “Actually, on the note of the books, there should be a copy or two in the library.”
“Then I am taking a permanent loan on them.”
“Sure,” he replied with a shrug.
“So, I take it you’re already up to speed on why we’re here?” Vital asked.
“Yeah, whole magic crown thing.” Hammer shrugged. “Honestly, you’re talking to a version of me who doesn’t have some magic thaumic field around him.”
“Oh, and Sunset’s on to us, by the way. Had a great little chat before we drove back.”
“I could always have her suspended,” Hammer Strike offered.
“On what grounds?” Vital asked.
“On the grounds of bribery, hacking school computers for student information, hacking student emails, amongst other things,” he replied casually.
“He’s good,” Grif noted as he moved to the fridge to grab a drink.
“Agreed. I like this guy,” Pensword said. “Well, of all the grownups so far. I am still having arguments about base ten versus base four.”
“It would make things a lot easier, but if we do that, won’t it just make her hate us even more? I thought the whole point of this trip was to recover the crown and try to help Sunset overcome her problems. Oh, and she also insulted you guys and basically said this is her world and her home turf, so we don’t stand a chance. Typical villain talk.”
“What is with your world and these types of villains?” Hammer Strike asked Shawn.
“To be fair, it’s a world of magic and mythical things that reigned in peace for a long time.”
“Touché.”
“Either way, suspending her would look suspicious. The student body already saw Hammer Strike with us and Twilight. If someone got brave and entered the running at the very last minute, they could get the sympathy vote,” Grif noted.
“You know, I could just go get the crown from Celestia, right?” Hammer Strike questioned. “Just trade it for one of equal or greater value.”
“The crown is magical. It won’t let itself be stolen. The right to bear it has to be earned,” Vital Spark said.
“You see, you say that, but how did it get here?”
“What I mean, Hammer Strike, is that in this world it won’t let that happen. The whole accidental slipping through the portal thing? Not an accident. I mean, seriously, what are the odds it would fly through to hit Fluttershy of all people? The element of Kindness?”
“I don’t see how that changes the rules, especially in a world without magic. It would make more sense if it went from a world without magic, to one with magic for a rule like that.”
“Alright, then how about this angle? You know how sometimes weird stuff just keeps happening—”
Hammer Strike narrowed his eyes. “You just want the challenge of earning the crown...”
“Pretty much,” Grif said as the microwave sounded from the kitchen. Vital Spark stood speechless and red as a cherry, though his eyes darted over in Twilight’s direction. Hammer Strike gave a subtle nod of understanding.
Pensword poked his head out from the library. “I have a question. Why did she go after the crown in the first place? There must be something we are missing... “ He paused as he fell back to silence.
“Crown of magical power in a world without magic,” Hammer Strike replied simply.
Twilight gasped. “If she were to get a hold of my crown and wear it, since she was originally a Unicorn, she could tap into its reservoirs to boost her own magic and take over!”
“Well, Johnny, can you tell our lovely winner what we have for her tonight?” Grif’s voice rang it’s sarcasm across the room.
“Not helping, Grif,” Vital said, deadpanning. “So, you guys going to bring me up to speed on the plan?”
“Tomorrow, at 1200 hours, Twilight Sparkle, Pinkamena Diane Pie, Applejack Apple, Rarity Belle, Fluttershy Butterfree, and Rainbow Miriam Dash will be employing a tactical propaganda strike that will gain favor to our cause. By this time I’ll have hopefully organized with like-minded experts to reconstruct Sunset’s own propaganda into a more positive image for us. Your classic smash and grab, really,” Grif said.
“While that is good,” Lunar Fang responded, “this is high school, not a military camp.” She laughed.
“A military camp would be easier,” Grif pointed out.
Pensword looked at Grif. “Tactics are the same, jargon is different.” He sighed as he flopped onto the couch. “Tomorrow at lunch the newly reformed friends will get together and start a flash mob song that will hopefully be recorded and uploaded onto the net for others to see. During this time, we will use catchy jingles and lyrics to convey the platform that Twilight will carry on despite opposition from Sunset Shimmer, who practically everyone hates anyways, while handing out free campaign items.”
“This plan is good, but I feel like we can make it better.” Grif rubbed his chin contemplatively. He looked over to Hammer Strike and Shawn. “Is there any chance Celestia may receive a subtle phone call to extend the lunch break by ten to fifteen minutes?”
“I could do that,” Hammer Strike replied. Meanwhile Shawn had moved to the couch and sat down as well.
“Then for an added benefit, let’s add some free drinks and donuts or something,” Grif added.
“So is that everything then? Are we all ready for tomorrow?” Pensword asked.
“... Ready as I’ll ever be,” Twilight said with a nervous laugh.
“Don’t worry, Twilight. You’ll do just fine,” Vital said reassuringly. “Trust me.”
After a moment where nobody could think of anything to say, Hammer Strike paused the program on TV. “So, you all want to go to a private gun range?”
Pensword jumped to his feet. “I’ll get my hat and coat!”
The Hummer roared up the long gravel driveway as it circled into the shooting range compound. A large grassy fixture had been carefully tended on the other side where the emblem of Strike Co. had been arranged in flowers and ornaments to clearly show who owned the land. A fairly burly man with broad shoulders and a checkered flannel shirt grinned as he polished his twelve gauge shotgun. He waited expectantly as the front driver door popped open and Hammer Strike made his way round. “Up for another rematch, Hammer Strike?” he asked. “I thought we weren’t scheduled until next week.”
“You could say–” Hammer Strike started.
“–Some unexpected things popped up,” Shawn finished as he opened his own door and joined his counterpart on the field.
“Who’s the new guy? Long lost twin or something?”
Hammer Strike and Shawn looked at each other for a brief moment before turning back and giving a shrug. “You know the guys down in the lab, Range Master.”
“Thankfully they don’t go overboard,” Shawn finished. “He’s the original.”
“Sure sounds the same,” he said as he smirked, “but can he fire the same?”
“That a challenge?” Shawn questioned.
“What do you think?” Range Master asked as he folded his arms.
“Let’s get to it, then.”
“Wait a second here, I thought we were here to fool around with possibly deadly objects,” Grif said as he opened the passenger door, exposing the many adolescents within. “When did this become a contest?”
“Since when did my range become a playground?” Range Master asked, looking back at his bosses.
“You’d be surprised at Grif’s accuracy,” Shawn commented. A few hairs clipped off of Range Master’s mustache as a blade embedded itself in the beam next to him.
The man raised an eyebrow. “Not bad. Who trained you, son?”
“My father believed such skills were good for the soul.”
“Okay, he gets a pass. What about these other kids?”
“I’m a fair shot,” Vital said casually. “So’s Pensword and Lunar Fang. Twilight’s here to learn, though.”
The burly man shrugged. “Well, it’s not like I get to actually do much but test all these guns anyways. Might as well let them get some real use.” He chuckled. “Hammer Strike’ll probably thank you for all the ammo you use anyways. I swear, everything that man touches turns to gold.”
Hammer Strike simply shrugged.
“So, um … I know we’re supposed to fire projectiles here using a high tech compression system of sorts, right? Um … where’s the best place for a beginner like me?” Twilight asked.
“We’ll start you off with something light, darlin’. I’d say a twenty two rifle ought to do just fine. How about the rest of you? Got any favorites?”
“What do you have?” Grif asked.
“Pretty much every gun ever made, and then a few experimental weapons Strike pays me to test for him.”
“Colt Buntline Special?” Grif asked.
“Eeyup.”
“Twelve gauge pump action?” Vital asked.
“Easy.”
“A Civil War rifle with attached bayonet?” Pensword asked excitedly.
“It’s in one of our display cases, but yeah, we got it.”
Pensword squeed happily as Lunar Fang put a restraining arm on him. “So much history, Lunar Fang. So. Much. History!”
“Uh...” Lunar Fang opened her mouth to speak, clearly uncertain.
“She’ll want a Python,” Grif said.
“You sure she can handle the kick?”
“Oh, she can take it.” Grif smiled.
The rangemaster shrugged. “Suit yourselves. Storage is this way. Y’all want me to bring them to you, or do you want to pick your own?”
“We’ll pick our own, Range Master,” Hammer replied.
“Alright.” Range Master’s silver hair and red highlights flashed briefly in the sun before they entered the compound proper. He then proceeded to lead them through a series of halls, taking them deeper within the complex before reaching an LED keypad and typing in a series of numbers. The thick steel door cracked open with a loud hiss as the lock disengaged and Range Master pulled it open. “After you, ladies and gentlemen. I give you the armory.”
To say the armory was a large hall would be an understatement. It was more of a cavern with titanic racks holding cases as far as the eye could see. Assault rifles, sniper rifles, shotguns of every family and variety, a virtual library of handguns, and even some weapons you wouldn’t expect to find in a personal armory. Grenade launchers, flame throwers, RPGs. The room held more artillery than some countries could claim. It had to be at least two floors high with a wooden staircase connecting the stories. They were arranged by size, which made finding their choices surprisingly easy as Grif and Pensword wandered around the room wide-eyed.
“Is that… a minigun?” Grif asked.
“No. That, my friend, is a Gatling gun. This is a minigun,” Range Master said as he split his stance and leveled an unloaded six cylinder box at the teen. Its dual sites and extra long grip made for easy transport, and extra padding had been placed where it braced against the hip for easy use when the arms got tired.
“That’s beautiful,” Grif said as he wiped a tear from his eye.
“Kid, you ain’t seen nothin’ yet.” Range Master smirked as he returned the weapon to its proper location. “Once you kids have what you need, press the big red button next to the case and the system will automatically prepare munitions for you once I designate which range you’re using today in the computer.”
“Thank you,” Grif said as he selected the Buntline. The revolver was like a Colt Single Action Army Revolver save, of course, for the rather absurd twelve-inch barrel. He ran his fingers down the long metal shaft with a grin. “Beautiful.”
“So, you all ready to go?” Range Master asked. Having received a positive response from everyone, they proceeded to leave.
The lunch room in Canterlot High was packed full with eager students trying to get their food. The jocks, the techno geeks, the drama kids, and all the other social group areas were full to bursting with their various types of students. In this cafeteria, it was normally hard to point out two students wearing similar outfits. Today, however, had anyone been observing, they would have found the strange curiosity of not two, but five different girls wearing an identical blue sweater. They didn’t interact with each other, and they didn’t acknowledge one another as they each got their food and sat with their social group.
Pensword and Lunar Fang passed through the line and sidled up to a corner table. Lunar Fang placed a bag down while Pensword nudged a Boombox with an MP3 player docked inside next to the bag. Then they sat down and began to eat their lunch. Both of them gave each other a knowing look of anticipation.
On some unseen signal, Rarity slipped on her pony ears as she sat down, moving her skirt to let her pre-tied tail fall free. Seeing this, Rainbow Dash proceeded to follow suit as she sat with the jocks. Pinkie Pie, who was at the tray line, responded by putting on her own ears before she began banging her tray in the classic shish-boom-bob style. Rarity responded by stomping her feet and clapping to the rhythm, much to the confusion of those around her. The eco group was even more shocked when Fluttershy rose to her feet, pony ears proudly displayed as she began banging two empty cups to the beat. Big Mac looked on, confused, not noticing as Applejack began her own clapping, punctuating each clap by banging the table. Rainbow Dash slammed her tray on the table in front of her as she stomped her feet.
Not far from Lunar Fang and Pensword, Spike stuck his head out of the backpack. With a conspiratorial wink to the two, he leaned forward and hit play on the boombox. A stereo format of the clapping and beats the five friends had started burst from the speakers when four of the five friends started to skip down the paths towards the center of the aisle and began to sing. “Hey, hey, everybody...” Pensword and Lunar Fang both bobbed their heads to the beat.
What followed was a great choreographed song and dance routine. Suddenly, in the middle of the song, Pinkie Pie and Rarity both stood at the doors to the Cafeteria. With a dramatic wave, they opened the doors, joining with the other three to sing, “...helping Twilight Sparkle win the crown.”
Twilight Sparkle entered wearing the same letter sweatshirt with the Horseshoe C. She began to sing herself. As she passed Flash, he stood up and started to play on his guitar. Surprisingly, the chords sounded loud and clear, blending perfectly in a musical accompaniment. Pensword turned to Lunar Fang, his eyes wide with shock. “Is this… are these wireless amps?” Lunar fang just grinned and shrugged, enjoying the new addition to the song they’d composed together. The performance was really kicking into high gear as a drum set rolled out and the students began to join in, shouting, “hey,” and getting up to dance. In the middle of all this, the girls reached into cleverly hidden bags throughout the lunchroom and began to throw out the ears and tails for school pride. The student body all put them on and started to dance around, tails swinging behind them as they continued to sing and dance along.
Already Pensword, Lunar Fang, and Vital could see that the student body was starting to bond together and cross clique lines for the first time in three years. As Lunar Fang looked around, her smile dropped into a frown. “I see Sunset looking in,” she whispered, “and she does not look happy.”
Pensword laughed. “Let her stew. We got the permission slips from Principal Celestia for this. She can’t do anything about it. And when she does try her next move, we'll be ready for her.”
“Things seem to be going well here?” Grif asked as as he took a seat next to Pensword.
“So far,” Pensword responded, his goofy grin still beaming. “Twilight got points just for unifying the school cafeteria. And now I think it’s safe to say we’ve officially weaponized the song magic.”
“Good. Vinyl will be putting the last touches on the video, and we’ll have it posted later tonight,” Grif said. “Rook to knight seven, and check.” He smiled.
“Yes, but we have to be careful,” Lunar Fang responded. “Sunset Shimmer can make a counter move, easily getting her out of check and putting us back in. It’s like we’re playing a game where the pieces aren’t visible.”
“Anything on our opponent?” Grif turned to Vital. “You were kinda quiet on details.”
“Remember what happened with Luna last millennium?” Vital asked.
“You think that could happen to her?” Grif raised an eyebrow.
“From what I got after she forged a letter to get me alone, yes. Celestia was so focused on reforming the power of the Elements to save Luna, she basically dropped Sunset like a hot potato once the chocolate cake came along,” he said, looking meaningfully toward Twilight. “I’m pretty sure it’s not quite as bad as Sunset says, but according to her, Celestia promised pretty much everything Twilight gained in her stead and then took it all away just a little after the rainboom event happened. Sunset knew about the Mane Six, Grif. That’s why she attacked them here. She’s angry, and she’s hurting. That makes her dangerous.”
“First priority is getting the crown away from her then, Vital. Once that's taken care of, we’ll see what can be done for her.” He eyed the pale boy sternly. “Get the weapon out of her hands. Then we can talk her from the window ledge.”
“Believe me, Grif, I have more motivation than you know to get that crown back.”
“Yes, but I also know you. You're a bleeding heart, Vital. And whether you like it or not, I need to keep your head on the mission at hand.”
Vital sighed. “I just wish she could see what she’s doing to herself. I know what disappointment can do to a person, but if she doesn’t let go soon …”
“This wound’s had over three years to fester, Vital. It’ll take some deep surgery to get to the root of that. I’m sure you’ll be able to reason with her well enough from her cell.”
“Speaking of which, have you figured out how to get her out of here without raising suspicion? People are going to ask questions if she just disappears in broad daylight, you know,” Vital returned.
“People are going to be asking questions when we disappear in broad daylight as well,” Grif pointed out.
“Or maybe not,” Pensword responded. “It will cause a stir for a day or two, and then it will be on to the next scandal in the school grapevine.”
“I suppose Hammer Strike could cover for us. He probably wouldn’t mind, and he is the superintendent, so it would probably work. He could say she was off on some exchange program or something for a few years,” Vital mused.
“Might work,” Pensword muttered. He looked to Lunar Fang, who seemed quite agitated. “What is it, dear?” The lunch had quieted down to eating, but a few were still mingling and singing together, which boded well for Twilight’s campaign.
“You’re talking about a traitor, and one who’s stolen a major military weapon from Equestria I might add, like you’re just going to give her a slap on the wrist and leave it at that. How can you even put that on the table?” Lunar Fang said through gritted teeth.
“Oh, I don’t plan on just letting her go. It’s just that priority one is to get the crown back. Priority two is to then apprehend the criminal and return her to face the charges,” Grif said, his accent still just as strong as ever. Thankfully, no one was paying attention as students were too focused on tearing down the barriers between cliques.
“And if time doesn’t permit, fulfill the primary directive and get the heck outta Dodge,” Vital said, nodding. “The Element of Magic comes first.”
“You’re learning. Good.” Lunar Fang nodded in approval.
“Likely that means we’ll be leading a squad here in the next thirty moons to make the arrest then,” Grif noted. “Celestia can’t just overlook this, you know.”
“She can’t exactly be impartial either. What happened here with Sunset is almost the exact same thing that happened with Luna. She’s going to want to show mercy. And given the circumstances, it might be better if she did. An apology from Celestia might go a long ways if we can just get it through Sunset’s thick skull,” Vital said.
Grif let out a sigh. “Sunbutt, will you never learn?” He groaned. “Anyway, it may not be her call in the end. The robbery happened in the Crystal Empire, so it might be Cadence who judges, but it also happened against Twilight, so she may be the one holding the gavel yet. That’s for the quill pushers to figure out.”
“Here’s hoping it’s Twilight. If anyone can find an answer where everyone gets satisfied, it’s her,” Vital said.
“I hope there aren't a lot more of these magic mirrors,” Grif noted. “They seem troublesome.”
“Pretty sure Starswirl only made one. It’d be nice if he made a second connected to our world though.” Vital sighed.
“If dreams were stars...” Pensword nodded in agreement. “Anyway, I better get to class. See you later.”
“Let’s hope for the best.” Grif nodded, getting to his feet. “Keep your eyes open for Sunset’s last ace.”
“So we missed the class the first day, and yesterday Celestia asked to see me about setting up a fencing club. What’s this professor Oobleck guy like anyway?” Grif asked.
“I don’t know. Every time I’ve asked someone in school, they just laughed and told me I’d better hang on to my seat. You guys don’t think he’s one of those crazy work heavy teachers, do you?” Vital Spark returned, his expression suddenly very worried.
“Do not look at me. I have been helping Lunar Fang with a few panic attacks,” Pensword answered. “You want Lunar Fang screaming her head off in the middle of classes?”
“Probably not. You sure you’re going to be okay, Lunar Fang?” Vital asked.
“I think so…. I am doing better. It’s taken some time. But one thing’s definitely clear. When we get back home again, I’m spending the first day back fully in the sky, understood?” she hissed.
Vital cringed. “Yes, Ma’am.”
“You know, you’ve been awful moody today. I haven’t seen you this moody since the war,” Grif said.
“Try living the days without your wings,” she hissed. “Also, I really don’t like this place. I overheard some girls gobbling about how they might tempt Pensword away from his girlfriend. So don’t you go and tell me I’m moody, mister. I am not in the mood.”
The chemistry lab was a large squared out room with several impeccably organized stations set up against the walls of the room. A series of oblong two-person desks occupied the rest of the space with just enough room for two bodies to travel up and down the aisles comfortably. Most of the desks were already occupied by the students.
“So I guess I’ll go with Grif and you’ll go with Lunar Fang, Pensword?” Vital asked as he looked nervously around the class. “And where’s the teacher anyways? Is he late?”
“Well now, I wouldn’t be if you’d step out of the doorway and let me into my own classroom,” a voice hastily commented from behind the group.
“Uh, sorry?” Grif said as they entered the room, quickly finding their seats.
“So, you four are the ones that have been skipping my class these last two days,” Oobleck commented as he peered over the desks at each of the students, drawing uncomfortably close. He wore a white dress shirt with a yellow tie and some dark green slacks. His dark green hair was combed back, and yet still had a somewhat messy look to it. He adjusted his glasses before taking a sip from the mug in his hands. “Dreadful, simply dreadful. Whatever will I do with you students?”
“Nothing, because superintendent Hammer Strike excused both cases?” Grif asked him with a raised eyebrow.
“He may have excused you from my class, but that doesn’t mean you get to skip the work, now do you?”
“Well, in our defense, you didn’t exactly tell us we had to do the work yet ... so we didn’t,” Vital Spark responded.
“He does have a point…” Oobleck muttered to himself as he took another sip of his steaming beverage. “Very well, then, but from this point on, that changes,” he paused to take another sip from his mug. “You will read chapters three and four and do all of the questions at the end. I want them on my desk by next class.”
“Sounds reasonable enough. They’re all short answer … right?” Vital Spark asked, then chuckled nervously.
“Paragraphs.”
“Ooh, my specialty,” Vital said as he beamed. “So what are we going over today, Mister Oobleck?”
“First of all, it’s Doctor Oobleck. I didn’t earn the PhD for fun, thank you very much.” He paused to take a drink. “Secondly, we’ll be studying the chemical composition of several common... chemicals.”
“Well, this should be fun,” Pensword answered dryly, wishing for Vital to stop talking as it seemed it was getting larger homework loads.
“Calm down. This will be easy,” Grif whispered as he leaned over the aisle to Pensword’s ear.
Alright, students, please turn to page fifty-seven in your chemistry books. This one’s going to be a long haul, so I hope you came prepared.” He took another sip as he zipped over to the chalkboard and proceeded to write out a complex chemical formula for the students to copy.
“So, you guys ready for this?” Grif asked as he typed on his laptop, bringing up the new video as the others gathered around in the big house’s library.
“Ready,” Lunar Fang answered as she sat in a chair she’d carried behind the leather couch where Grif had been typing.
“It’s not going to fling mud at Sunset, is it?” Vital asked worriedly. “I can’t stand those kinds of tactics.”
Pensword laughed. “If it was slinging mud, that is a lot better than the noble feuds a thousand years ago. Those usually ended with the target in prison or on long sea voyages with no return date.”
“Trust me, Vital; I don’t think Sunset’s name even comes up,” Grif said as the movie started. Dubstep played in the background as a large light bluish-green teenager appeared on screen with black hair. He wore a grey jacket over a white T-shirt and jeans as well as blue sunglasses that stood low enough on his brow that you could see his eyes.
“Hey, everybody. By now you all saw a certain previous video about Twilight Sparkle. And I’m sure it made you all wonder, ‘why would I vote for someone so goofy?’ Well, I’ve got a reason for you.” He snapped his fingers and a picture of an ancient regal woman appeared nearby. “We’ve all fallen asleep in history talking about people like countess what's-her-name of whatever here, how she lived, how she made everyone under her go through hell, and the million more people like her. History’s full of prim and proper people making life suck for everyone since the beginning of time!” With another snap of his fingers, the picture changed to snapshots of Twilight’s footage. “What I see here is a Fall Formal princess who doesn’t care what the world says is right. She dances to her own beat, and that's something we can all agree with! Anyone who’s been to one of my parties, and I’m pretty sure every one of you have, knows how much I like seeing everybody express themselves in their own way. So vote for Sparkle–” Large bold lettering covered a picture of Twilight’s face with rapidly changing colors. “–‘cause I know I will.” He leaned in to the camera lens and gave it a wink before the video faded to black.
“Not the best, I know, but it was a throw together,” Grif said.
“It was perfect,” Twilight said with tears in her eyes as she laid a thankful hand on Grif’s shoulder.
“Agreed. Rather good,” Pensword answered. “Now… it is Sunset’s move tomorrow.”
“Considering how things went in the lunchroom, and now the counter with this… she’s going to be desperate. We’ll need to be ready for anything,” Vital said.
“Going by the strain on time, she’s going to need the possibility of Twilight being disqualified outrightly,” Grif noted.
“That’ll take some pretty fancy footwork if she’s going to manage it before the dance. Tomorrow’s the last day, after all,” Vital responded.
“Twilight, for the next two days, I want you to have someone present at all times, and, unfortunately, it can’t be Spike.”
“I can help where I can; meet up at hallways and the like, and sit with you in the classes you and I share,” Pensword said. “Lunar Fang will help, too.”
“As if you could stop me,” Lunar Fang replied, smirking as she kissed Pensword on the cheek.
“We’ll need to come up with a specific schedule for pickup and dropoff periods to ensure she’s never left alone for more than a few minutes,” Vital Spark agreed. “Let’s compare schedules.”
“I don’t like this,” Grif said suddenly. “It’s all coming together too easily. There is something missing here.”
“But what are we missing?” Pensword asked. “After all, she cannot sabotage the event herself. Otherwise she loses the crown and the time limit as well.”
“Then again, that may be her plan. She did try awfully hard to get the crown here and away from Equestria. Maybe she wants to keep it here for the next three years so Equestria has to fend for itself,” Vital suggested.
Lunar Fang shook her head. “That is a lot for revenge.” She tapped a finger on her knee. “No… there’s another reason. Something else. I’m not sure if any of you felt it, but I have. Something’s stirring… shifting. I don’t know how else to describe it. Something’s just… different from before.”
“Guys, you realize come the deadline, I can’t stay,” Grif said. “Even if we fail, I have to go back. I can’t leave Shrial and Avalon alone for three years.”
“Nor can I stay away,” Pensword answered. “Okay then, we just need to make a backup plan. If we can’t win it, we grab the crown and take it with us.” He looked around. “Vital you might want to leave the room. We will be talking about staking out a principal’s office, pickpocketing, breaking and entering.” He paused. “Or we can ask the superintendent for a copy of a master key for the school.” He looked to Grif. “Do we still have the forged crown or is it back in Equestria?”
“I never had it,” Grif told Pensword.
Vital sweatdropped. “Celestia said they had to keep it to keep panic from spreading, remember?”
“Yes, but you know me; I have to cover every single detail. So you are staying while we discuss a Black Sun plan?”
“I assume you’re talking about a Plan B. I’d rather not, but if you really are going to have to fall back on a plan like this, it’s probably best I do sit in. I might mess it up otherwise, and who knows, maybe I can help if something goes wrong. But just for the record, I’m only going along with this because the crown is already stolen property, so we’re technically just stealing it back.”
“Oh this is dealing with what to do after Plan Z, Pensword assured. “Literally, a Black Sun event is what to do if Celestia went crazy without any other Princesses to stop her.”
“You do realise I can literally walk in and just swap the crown with another, right?” Shawn commented.
“Right. We might need you on call if something goes south on the night of the dance,” Pensword agreed.
“Won’t it be too late to try that plan by then though?” Vital asked. “I mean, the crown will have been given to Sunset by that point. It’s not like you can just ask for it back unless you come up with a logical explanation for the need to return it.”
“The superintendent might want to make sure that, seeing how this has been one of the worst campaigns, no itching powder, dyes, or other substances were hidden in the head region of the crown?”
“So basically, confiscate the crown on grounds of potential sabotage?” Vital Spark asked.
“Yes,” Lunar Fang answered. “But could somebody tell me why we’re doing this again? It’s seriously right there. Wanting to win the crown fair and square is fun and all, but we only have a couple of days left. It’s too close. Shouldn’t we just storm in and take it?”
“I’m trying to show the power of Friendship and make sure that this world’s set of my friends become friends again,” Twilight answered. “Besides, I have to beat Sunset at her own game. If I can’t be a princess here, how could I ever hope to be a real one in Equestria?” Twilight sighed, flopping into one of the baggier chairs in the library.
“We take the crown by force only if necessary,” Grif said with authority. He walked over to Twilight and placed a supportive hand on her shoulder as she looked up into a surprisingly gentle smile. “You can do this. I know you can. Besides, Princess,” he said, smirking playfully. “You should know by now you don’t have to do this alone. You’ve got us, and you’ve got your friends. You united an entire school for Winds’ sake. If that doesn’t say princess, I don’t know what does.”
Twilight smiled. “Thanks, Grif.”
The next day went by with a long uneasy stillness. Grif had been on edge all day, and seemed to get more edgy with every hour, yet nothing happened. They had seen Sunset in the halls, and all she had done was send them a sinister smirk. When the bell rang by day’s end and nothing had happened, Grif’s hands were shaking. This felt wrong. No enemy waited this long to retaliate with such a small window of opportunity. “It’s not right,” he growled under his breath.
Pensword came around from another part of the school just as Grif said those words. “Grif, I waited five days before I invaded Fort Triumph, remember? This means we have to be extra careful.”
“At Fort Triumph the enemy had months. Our enemy has a day,” Grif noted.
“So, if she acted today, it would have been hasty. She probably took today to plan, which means we have to be on our guard tomorrow as well.”
“I’m sorry.” Grif sighed. “It’s just I really don’t want anything to screw up, you know?”
“Then we plan for something bad. We can only plan for her acting without reason. Still, I hope that things go as easy as a warm day flight. Little turbulence, lots of lift, all the fun.”
Vital ran through the hall, his heavy strides slapping along the tile floor. “Grif, Pensword… we have a problem!”
Grif gave Pensword a dead stare. “What is it?”
“Hey, I was calling it,” Pensword answered, raising both hands into the air. “I was not invoking Murphy. I was only stating that she was going to strike and we should be ready.”
Vital Spark huffed, having become somewhat winded. “Geez, I had to comb the whole school to find you guys. This place is bigger than it looks.” His breathing slowly eased and he straightened to deliver his message. “Twilight’s been taken by Vice Principal Luna. Somebody destroyed the gym and everything Pinkie worked so hard to set up. And Luna didn’t look too happy.”
Sunset sat, fuming on the foldable chair as she stared at the damage Snips and Snails had wrought the previous night. She smiled grudgingly. She had to admit, what they lacked in brains they made up for in destructive enginuity. How did they even manage to twist the tables like that? Toilet paper littered the floors, streamers were torn, balloons popped, decorations cracked, kicked in, or destroyed. They wouldn’t make half bad soldiers in Equestria… except for the fact that now they wouldn’t be able to go there for another three years thanks to their antics.
She grimaced, then sighed. “At least that prim little goodie goodie’s getting the third degree, and that will leave me with the crown as sole competitor.” Now that was a cheerful thought. Maybe she ought to make her way to Vice Principal Luna’s office. Yes, that would be wonderful. Then she could gloat. Twilight Bungle would have to return home in disgrace, or else not return at all. She chuckled. “Do send Celestia my regards, Twilight. Yes, that’ll work nicely. And then I can shove some dog treats into that annoying mutt’s mouth to shut him up when he tries to object.” She grinned as she stood up and made her way towards the doors. “I can hardly wait.”
Luna was not having a good day. The coffee maker was broken, so she had to get coffee made at one of those drive-through coffee places Celestia was so addicted to. Her sister had never appreciated good coffee. It was bad enough she was working through the EQ3 game expo, and now she had to deal with a major vandalism issue while Celestia was away on business. Luna wondered which bakery suffered her sister’s tyranny today as she pulled the blinds shut, casting her office into shadow as she turned to her newest troubled student.
“This is you in these pictures, is it not?” Luna asked, setting her evidence out before Twilight Sparkle.
“Yes, but …”
“You realize, of course, we cannot allow someone who vandalized our school to compete for the Fall Formal crown,” Luna said. “Why would you do this? I had an understanding that you were winning!”
“But I … I would never do this. How is this possible?” Twilight took the photos in hand and stared at them. “I wasn’t anywhere near the gym last night, and besides that, Pinkie Pie’s my friend. I’d never try to ruin a party she’s worked so hard to prepare for. I’m telling you, Vice Principal Luna, someone is framing me. You’ve got to believe me!”
“Every student who ends up in this room has used that line, Twilight Sparkle. As much as I’d like to give you the benefit of the doubt, the evidence is quite certain here.”
“Please, you can’t! I have witnesses. I’m innocent!”
“I’m sorry, Twilight, but my hands are–” Luna was cut off as the door burst open.
“Objection!” Flash sentry stood at the doorway pointing dramatically with his black jacket zippered up in an almost formal sense. His blue hair had been slicked back, giving the impression of a somewhat clean and vocal appearance. “Vice Principal Luna, Twilight Sparkle is innocent!”.
Another student breaking in on a simple disciplinary session. As if her headache wasn’t big enough already. Luna took a moment to compose herself, lest she explode at the wrong person and face yet another disciplinary hearing. She’d rather not end up barred when she’d only just gotten her administrative privileges back. “Mister Sentry, this is all very gallant, but the evidence is quite clear.”
“Hold it!” Flash shouted. Luna shot him a warning glare. Flash cleared his throat nervously. “I found these in a trash can in the library. Clearly Twilight Sparkle was being set up.” He tossed a set of cutouts on the table, each portraying events from Twilight’s game with Rainbow Dash on the soccer field. In each picture, the portion showing Twilight was missing.
Luna raised an eyebrow as she looked at the picture of Twilight destroying the gym. She proceeded to hold up a cutout to find that the soccer field surrounded Twilight perfectly. She checked each picture and found the same result. “... I see.” Luna sighed. Great. Because of her caffeine addiction, she’d nearly punished a student without just cause over photos practically any adult should have noticed. She really needed to cut back on her gaming. “Well, based on this evidence, you can, of course, continue your bid to be princess of the Fall Formal,” she said, rising from her chair and making her way towards the door. “And my job gets harder,” she mumbled as she left the room with the evidence.
“Vice Principal?” a voice spoke as she left the room.
“Huh?” Luna looked up to see the large grey boy approaching her. He was that exchange student the superintendent brought in. What was his name? G-something? Gruff? Augh, she needed coffee. “Oh … um, yes?” she asked.
“Sorry to interrupt, but I was getting coffee when my friend phoned me about Twilight. It seems that in the hurry they screwed up my order. Would you care for a stalliongrad latte double foam no cream with just a hint of cinnamon?” Grif asked.
“Oh my. That’s ... that's my favorite, actually.” Luna smiled, accepting the cup. “Thank you, Mister Grafson; it smells divine. I have such a hard time finding good coffee around here. If you’ll excuse me, I have to find my sister. With the damages that have been made to the gym, we’ll have to postpone the Fall Formal until next week.” She sighed as she rubbed her temple with a spare finger before making her way towards her sister’s office.
Grif held it in well. Vice Principal Luna was well out of earshot before the loud stream of fiery Phrench curses began to stream from his mouth.
“So that’s the jist of it,” Grif said as the intrepid heroes stood next to the statue outside. “We’re in trouble.”
Pensword shook his head dubiously. “Matthew is hopeful something will happen to fix it.” He paused. “Anypony seen where Twilight is?”
“I think she ran off embarrassed after accidentally rejecting Flash Sentry’s invitation to be his date at the dance next week,” Vital said.
“Did anypony go after her?” Pensword asked. “I do not see Lunar Fang.”
“She’s probably giving some girl talk dating advice. After all, who better to give it than a recently married woman who’d been seducing a certain man for quite some time before he accepted?” Vital asked.
“The portal closes tomorrow, guys. This has to happen by then,” Grif said. “What do we do?”
“We try and salvage the dance floor and see what we can do, maybe get it moved back to the old date of tomorrow?” Pensword asked as he looked around the group. He paused as he heard an unfamiliar ding. He pulled a phone he didn’t know he had out and blinked. “I have… a text?” He paused. “More important question... when did I get a phone?” A few seconds later, he pored over the message. “Pinkie is asking if we want to help Twilight clean up the gym. Seems we all had the same idea. Well... they had it sooner.”
“From what Luna implied, there were damages to the gym aside from decorations,” Grif noted.
“You think we should ask Hammer Strike for some help to replace what was broken?” Vital asked.
“Might be a good plan.” Grif nodded.
“Right. Vital, you call them. Then join Grif and I at the Gym,” Pensword said.
“You realize I can do both at the same time, right, Pensword?”
“Matthew does,” Grif interjected. “Pensword is still a little struck by technology.”
“We are seriously going to have to give him a crash course. Either that, or Vulpix is going to need to in their spare time,” Vital said as he pulled out his own phone. Checking his contacts, he wasn’t at all surprised to find the icons for Hammer Strike and Shawn at the top. “So, shall we go?” he asked as he pressed the call button.
Pensword blinked. “Why is Matthew so scared.? He paused as he accessed his other memories. “Wait… you are… and that…” he blinked. “I can.… What do you mean by useless without satellites? Why do we need a moon?” He lowered his voice. “Wait… humans…” he closed his eyes. “You know what? That’s enough. I have to worry about the tech we have now, not some future world of speeding wingless chariots and these ‘cell phones,’” he said, rolling his tongue as he stumbled over the words. “Anyway, time is wasting. Onwards!” With that, he marched purposefully for the gym, the others trailing behind.
The group got to the gym and opened the doors as some of the jocks gawked at Applejack while they were carrying a table. Applejack passed casually by, holding one under each arm and walking like she would passing flyers for her bake sales.
“Remind me not to get into a fist fight with her,” Pensword muttered, slackjawed.
“They don’t look that heavy.” Grif shrugged as they entered the gym.
“Well, where should we report to?” Vital Spark asked. It looks like practically everyone is here to help.”
“That’s because everyone is, darling,” Rarity interjected, startling the friends as she popped up behind them. “Now, if you don’t mind, Grif, we could use some help taking care of the sound system. You’ve got such excellent muscle tone, I think you would be a perfect candidate to help Vinyl with the repairs and placement. Pensword, Lunar Fang has been asking for you. She’s over there working on the rafters. Apparently, she prefers higher places. I… understand you two spent a lot of time in the air,” she said somewhat hesitantly.
“You’re not being racially insensitive by asking what it’s like to fly,” Grif told her as he turned to find Vinyl. “There is very little you could ask Pensword that would set him off anyway. He’s heard it all already.” With that, Grif wandered off.
“How did he…?”
Vital put a calming hand on her shoulder. “It’s Grif. He does that sometimes. It’s better not to question it. Let’s just say he’s a less random version of Pinkie Pie.”
“... You do realize how unsettling that idea can be, right?”
“Trust me, I know. You get used to it.”
“Okay, now to find the ladder, or the stairs to the rafters. I’ll see you all later.” Pensword started wandering around the gym looking for a way up, only to have a roll of streamers hit him on the head. “Yes, dear,” he called up. “I’m getting up there, just need to find the same path you took.”
“You need to climb the ladder, dear. It’s over there,” Lunar Fang called back from one of the rafter beams. “Oh, and could you bring that streamer back up here while you’re at it? Thank you.” She smiled and blew him a kiss before getting back to work, balancing on the beam like a professional tightrope walker.
Pensword snorted. “A ladder. How very inadequate.” He sighed. “When in Rome.” He muttered in annoyance as he started to climb the contraption. He absently stuffed the streamer in his pants pocket. Slowly, a smile began to dawn the higher he rose. “I miss my wings.” He soon joined her and the pair leaped from rafter to rafter, spreading streamers in an intricate dance without an ounce of fear while students gawked from below.
“How can I help, Rarity?” Vital asked.
“Hmm. How about you help Big Mac with the trash disposal? You look like you can handle the strain well enough, and we have enough boys helping with tables.”
“Yes, Ma’am.” Vital saluted and smiled as he made his way over to the larger trash piles where twisted metal chairs and other disposable items had been dumped for trash and recycling. “Vital Spark reporting for duty, Sir,” the pale boy said, smiling as he picked up a chair that had been split in two.
Big Mac shrugged. “‘Kay.”
“I don’t know, Vinyl,” Grif said as he set the large speaker down. “These are looking pretty beat up”
Vinyl Scratch proceeded to gesture sporadically.
“No, I’m not doubting you, but these have had a real number done to them,” Grif said.
The doors to the gym kicked open suddenly as Hammer Strike took a few steps into the gym, looking around at each of the gathered students.
“Well, the cavalry is here,” Pensword called out.
The students stared with a mixture of confusion, surprise, and that uncomfortable feeling one gets when one thinks one is in trouble.
“So, I heard the gym and its decorations were damaged?” Hammer questioned.
“Did you bring any speakers?” Grif called out.
“Yeah. They’re in the truck.”
“Wait, hold on,” one of the students called out. A Calculator symbol showed prominently on his shirt. “What’s going on? Are you saying The Man is helping us out?” He found a fist held out and so he bumped it with a long haired man with a recycling symbol on his shirt. “Sweet!” they chorused together.
“Now that that’s out of the way, any of you want to help unload the truck of equipment that is probably a bit over the top?” Hammer Strike asked.
Grif nodded, heading to the door instantly. Big Mac followed a few moments later.
Other students began to cluster around the doors as Pensword and Lunar Fang let loose a sigh of relief. It was hard enough handling the disco ball without all the onlookers there to throw off their concentration.
“I agree. One that should only be shared between close friends or family.” She laughed. “As my father would say, ‘all is right side up for the world.’” She shook her head. “Pensword, hold that ball steady.”
“Oh, uh … actually, no joke was intended, but good job with that disco ball,” Vital said, positioning himself beneath just in case.
“You got it?” Grif asked from across the large speaker as he moved to lift his end.
“Eeyup,” came the response with a bit of a groan.
“A little heavier then I figured. You?” Grif asked
“Eeyup” came his response as they moved the speaker.
“Need a hand?” Hammer Strike asked as he walked past them carrying one on his shoulder, a box in his other hand.
Big Mac stared in shock while Grif just rolled his eyes.
“I’ll take the silence as a no.” Hammer Strike gave a half shrug. “So, where should these go?”
“Up on the stage, I think,” Vital Spark said as he held the gym doors open with Vinyl Scratch for the group. More than a few of the other jocks also gawked alongside Rainbow Dash at the sheer strength Hammer Strike was showing.
“So,” Hammer Strike started, ignoring the looks. “Vinyl, since you’re the more electronic music inclined individual here, think these speakers are fine?”
Vinyl beamed a smile with an excited thumbs up.
“Good. Pinkie, since you’re the more party goer of everyone, and Rarity, you have an eye for detail, did I pick out good decorations?”
“Why … they’re positively perfect! Stylish, yet chic, with all the fall colors. They’ll fit in perfectly with my designs. How on earth did you know?” Rarity stared at the man before her as her eyes shone like stars. “My hero.”
“I, uh, got some details from Grif, Pensword, Lunar Fang, and Vital Spark on what was going on. Details and, um, other miscellaneous information.”
“Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh! This is gonna be the best party ever! Thanks Hammer Strike from a parallel universe!” Pinkie squealed, breaking up the awkward moment as she grabbed the box, pulled Rarity by the collar of her blouse, and zipped back inside.
Hammer Strike gave a small chuckle. “Figures she would know that,” he muttered to himself.
“She’s Pinkie. Of course she does,” Vital said, smiling happily.
“Thank you so much for the help, Hammer Strike,” Twilight said, giving the older man a hug. “It really means alot to me. And thank you, all of my friends.” Tears were forming as she looked from one person to the next.
“Not a problem. Just don’t be climbing up here, okay?” Pensword called from the rafters.
Twilight laughed as she wiped the tears from her eyes. “You’ve got it, Pensword.”
“Right,” Rarity replied. “Now we just need Principal Celestia and Vice Principal Luna to see this gym and we can be back on track for tomorrow’s dance!”
From the doors, the two stood gaping at the scene, especially a certain suited man holding a giant speaker over one shoulder. “Well,” Celestia responded, holding a lockbox with a slot in the top, “seeing as the gym is all cleaned up, I guess there’s only one thing we can do now. Well done everybody, the dance is back on for tomorrow!”
A collective cheer rang through the gym, shaking the newly mounted disco ball as Pensword and Lunar Fang dumped some spare confetti from the rafters.
“Seeing as everyone’s here, let’s get this out of the way now. Please enter your vote for the princess as you leave, and we’ll see you all tomorrow night,” Vice Principal Luna said.
Twilight sighed with relief. The dance was back on, people liked her, and she’d managed to bring her new friends back together. Everything was right again with the world.
Extended Holiday Ch 82: This Is Our Big Night Act 10
Grif looked himself over in the mirror one last time, making some last casual adjustments to his outfit. ‘Twas the night of the fall formal, and being that formal was in the name, formal was how the group intended to go. Grif was currently dressed in a silver cuffed dress shirt with a black tie. A deep emerald-green vest and black suit jacket covered the shirt and complimented the coloring nicely. He had managed to acquire a silver tie clip with a small chunk of jade in the center as well as a silver chain wallet instead of a watch. He wore his same black leather belt with the silver clip. His throwing daggers had been hidden inside the vest. He smiled, looking himself over as he adjusted his silver cufflinks. “You don’t think we’re being too ostentatious, do you?” he asked, turning to face his friends.
“I do not think so,” Pensword answered as he walked down the stairs. “Are you sure you are okay with this? I know this was your and Lunar Fang’s idea, but this feels… wrong,” he said as he strode into the main living room. Twilight was with the girls getting ready at Rarity’s, and that left the boys to fend for themselves and choose what they wanted to wear for the dance. Grif took in his friend’s appearance with a cool and critical eye. Pensword had dressed in full black dress slacks, a set of thick brown leather boots that went up to the knees, and a stunning bright red jacket. The missing hat to complete the ensemble was resting over his heart as he held it, looking nervously to his friend.
“I think it looks rather good on you,” Grif said. “You make a very respectable mountie, my friend.”
Pensword cleared his throat. “Well, thank you. I will try my best to honor the uniform.” He shook his head. “I still want to know what you are having Lunar Fang dress as.”
“And where would the fun be in that?” Vital Spark asked as he descended the stairs. A sleek navy suit with black lining made a stark contrast to his pale white skin and luminous blond hair. Pinned to his lapel, a metal sun crossed by a four pointed star rested. Its colors had been carefully buffed and polished into the metalwork itself, leaving the star a bright silver while the sun shone the tarnished orange-bronze of twilight. In the very center of the piece, a tiny diamond glittered alone, flashing with Vital Spark’s smile. Beneath the suit, Vital wore a respectable white shirt complemented by a red silk tie crossed by silver stripes. “I don’t know if this quite fits me, but I learned a long time ago to trust a certain fashionista’s fashion sense thanks to you boys, so I’ll stick with it. Who knows, maybe I can show up Blueblood while we’re here.”
“Blueblood is not a student at CHS,” Pensword responded. “I think he has already graduated.”
“Thank goodness for that. It’s bad enough having to deal with the blowhard in Equestria.”
“I just wish I could bring my epée,” Grif said. “I feel stark naked without a sword right now.”
“Sometimes even the great Hammer Strike, or Shawn, can’t change rules,” Pensword said, shaking his head sadly. “I miss my wing blades and weapons as well.” He smiled. “After tonight’s over though, we should be back to our old bodies and where we belong.”
“...Yeah.” Vital sighed.
A whistle broke their attention as Hammer Strike walked into the room, a cane in hand as he passed it to Grif. “There. Have fun.”
“Huh?” Grif asked, taking it in hand. The cane had a silver eagle’s head with two black stones for eyes and a long black shaft. “Is this what I think it is?”
“You act so glum without something on you, and I guess the hidden knives and daggers aren’t enough.” Hammer Strike leaned against one of the walls and crossed his arms. “So there. Something a bit more ... classy.”
“You’re awesome, Hammer Strike!” Grif smiled as he twisted the head. With a subtle click, it slid away, revealing a large double-bladed shortsword. A small curved blade also flipped out the side of the sheath near the bottom. “Cool!”
“Any other hidden weapons, anyone?” Hammer Strike asked.
“I don’t think it would work with my outfit. Besides, I can just tackle them out windows or pin them to the ground. Well, if you have a deaf wolf, I could use that.”
“Hmm… actually, give me a second. I’ll be right back.” Vital rushed up the stairs again, his footfalls echoing as he stomped up the wood and across the upper floor before rushing back down. A hasty hand retracted from his pocket. “There. Now I’m ready.”
“Right. Now… where are we going to meet the girls? Did I hear right they are renting a limo?” Pensword asked.
“Why did they need to rent a limo?” Grif asked.
“Prom mentality?” Vital suggested.
“I may or may not have given them the money for it, just so they can have the satisfaction of ordering it,” Hammer Strike commented.
“Makes sense, but... wait, does that mean the limo is coming here to pick us up and then we go to the school?”
“Yep, but I’ll be meeting you there later. I’m going to finish some things around here first.”
“It’s a good thing you had that crate of stuff we’re taking with us when you brought the truck,” Grif noted. “We won’t have to worry about running around getting everything at the last minute.”
“Yeah, and I have to re-sort things in that crate so we don’t bring anything … over the top.”
“So… can I still gift Luna that spacecraft model?” Pensword asked.
“As long as you warn her to not try something based off that idea, because I’m sure explosions are something that we don’t want…”
“And when are explosions not something we deal with? You do realize that Luna is going to modernize the military with or without us.” Pensword sighed and raised his hands at the legendary blank stare. “However, I shall pass the warning along.”
“I’d prefer we don’t accelerate it at that abnormal of a rate.”
“Understood,” Pensword answered. “However, remember, we did have the concept of a moon rocket from a few authors like H.G. Wells and Jules Verne.”
“Yes, but after enough mistakes and deaths, we finally realized we shouldn’t try it yet. And I’d prefer we try to help skip certain steps of a process.”
“True, true… still, it would be tough anyways. This design is for a bipedal. We are quadrupeds. A major retooling would be required.”
“And hopefully we can leave enough information behind to keep them from making terrible mistakes,” Hammer Strike said meaningfully, effectively cutting off any further discussion on the matter. A honk came from outside. “And there is your ride. You all had better get going.”
“See you later tonight,” Pensword said, turning to leave.
“Lets hope it will be in a peaceful setting,” Grif said as he headed out the door, saluting sharply with the cane sword.
“See you later, Hammer Strike. Let’s pray things go well tonight.” Vital smiled as he closed the door behind him.
The limo drive proved a simple affair and went off without a hitch. It helped knowing that this particular limo had all of the amenities, including security and extra reinforcement on its frame. The ten friends arrived in plenty of style as the limo pulled up the drive to the school. First the girls got out, then the boys. Pensword offered a hand to Lunar Fang, who had chosen to wear A flowing black dress shimmering with sequins. It puffed at her shoulders with a modest cut over her chest. A set of dark blue fingerless gloves fit perfectly over her hands as she batted her eyelashes at Pensword. Her hair had been let down behind her, flowing with the dress to add that sense of refined elegance only a true lady could pull off. The pleats in her dress flowed off her waist and spun with silvery grey designs like moon-touched clouds in a darkened sky. The sparkling fabric that had been sown in added to the effect, making tiny stars and novas spin and twirl with her every movement. A pair of silver star-shaped earrings completed the ensemble.
Pensword smiled and kissed his lover. “You look beautiful, my little Thestral,” he whispered.
“You have to say that.” She giggled, running a hand under his chin.
“It does not make it any less true.” He smirked. “Though I like your tail doing that better than your hand.”
“Unfortunately, that's not an option right now.” She sighed.
“But it will be once this night is done,” Pensword pointed out.
Lunar Fang giggled. She could guess what her husband had in mind, and she very much liked the idea. The friends all walked up the steps, Twilight trailing just behind. As the rest of the friends entered, Flash Sentry rolled up in his sports car. Grif poked his head out the door to investigate, much to Twilight’s embarrassment. “Well, seems someone either saved up money for the wrong thing, or he has rich parents.”
“Grif!” Twilight whispered harshly.
“I calls ‘em like I sees ‘em.” Grif shrugged.
“Well, go and talk to him.” Pensword pushed her in the back as he, too peeked out from the doors. “You only live once.”
“Pensword, not you, too. Could you two please get out of here? I’m trying to have a moment.” She turned and waved as Flash made his way up the stairs. “Go!” she whispered from the side of her mouth. Suddenly the two felt a distinct yank from behind.
“Come on, you two. A lady deserves her privacy,” Lunar Fang said as she pulled them along just in time for the pair to watch as Flash Sentry smashed his face against the main entrance. The pair spasmed, struggling to contain their laughter until they’d turned around a corner. Then they let loose.
“Well, I did learn from others,” Pensword said after finally catching his breath. “How long would it have taken for us to get together without the assistance of outside meddling ?” he teased as he wormed his way expertly out of Lunar Fang’s grasp. “Come on. Let’s make tonight a fun one. I don’t want to be fighting when we go back to Equestria. Lunar Fang’s scowl lightened despite her efforts, and a faint blush rose in her cheeks. As he had hoped, the usage of contractions had calmed her down. Extending a reconciliatory arm, he escorted her through the halls towards the sound of music and voices. The laughter brought back memories of non-pastel colored humans grinning and smiling together as they invited him onto the dance floor.
“Um… everything okay?” Vital asked as he eyed Grif, who was still being casually held by Lunar Fang as they approached the gym doors.
“I can feel it again,” Grif said as he expertly removed himself from Lunar Fang’s grasp. “The abyss. We’re standing on the edge.”
“‘By the pricking of my thumbs, something wicked this way comes,’” Vital said just as dubiously. “You’re right. We’ll need to be ready for anything.” He casually fingered his pocket.
“Well, as long as it is not Third Gryphon War bad, I think we will do fine,” Pensword countered, ignoring the sudden glare from Vital. “Look, no blood, no war, no weapons to speak of. The worst that could happen is a broken bone. Therefore, we’ll do fine by comparison.”
“And there goes our slim chance that everything will go off just fine. Thank you, Pensword.” Vital groaned. “I’m going to grab some punch.”
“You’re welcome,” Pensword replied happily. “I know Murphy is going to show up, so I say it to remind us to be on our guard.”
Vital halted. “Careful, Pensword. We already get visited by Death enough as it is. I’d rather not have Murphy or his sister, Yphrum, join in.” With that said, Vital dropped into the sea of students and began to navigate towards the punch bowl. “Not even five minutes in and already I need a drink.” He sighed. “This is going to be a long night.”
Pensword smiled and gestured to the floor. “May I have this dance, my lady? Might as well enjoy the night till the calling of the princess.”
Lunar Fang smiled coyly, curtsied, and nodded. “I’d be delighted.”
WIth that, Pensword took off in an old fashioned dance that somehow was able to fit the modern music, despite the singer’s instruction to “jump up and down.” Naturally, the whole gym cheered as Flash Sentry entered with Twilight holding his arm. The last member of the band had arrived. Now the real fun could begin.
Sunset growled as she observed the scene. There was no way she could win the crown now, and stealing it still wasn’t an option. She could try to get it from Twilight after the ceremony, but how could she get anywhere near her with that brutish Gryphon or the stupid Bats always close by? She needed something to get them out of the picture.
She muttered darkly to herself. If she had gotten the crown in the first place, there wouldn’t be a need to form a plan. Why did that stupid Dragon have to wake up? Sunset took a breath to calm her thoughts as she looked at the crowd. She could see Twilight’s little dog being held by one of the girls at all times. The beginnings of an idea began to nibble at the edge of her mind. Twilight would probably be willing to do anything to save him. Of course, she wouldn’t actually hurt him. She wasn’t a monster after all. But maybe if she got her outside…. She intended to use the portal into Equestria as well, but Twilight didn’t know that. If she threatened the portal right after returning the little mutt, she could play to Twilight’s fear of being stuck in this world. Yes. It was starting to come together. But she still needed to deal with those stupid guards of hers. And it was such a good plan, too.
Sunset harrumphed from her seat as she glowered into the crowd. The students made sure to keep a wide birth, as if a rain cloud would appear above her at any minute and start to pour. A flash of white caught her gaze and she saw Vital Spark pouring himself a drink. He sighed heavily and took a swig. Wait a minute. Snips and Snails had reported the kid had a kind heart. That dirty old bird had called it bleeding if she recalled correctly. Yes. She could use that. But she’d have to get it just right.
Vital Spark sighed from his place by the fizzy cider. Refreshing though it was, it wasn’t quite doing it to cut off the heat from his dress suit. “And this is why I stopped going to dances,” he said to himself, shaking his head as he loosened his tie and undid a button. He’d already had a nice dance with Octavia, who was kind enough to accept his invitation since he didn’t know many of the other girls yet, and it felt awkward to ask. Now he just wanted the chance to cool off. He casually made his way over to the gym’s exit doors, one of which had been propped open with a spare crate. Slipping outside, he sighed in relief as he mopped his sweaty brow and took another swig of cider.
“Enjoying the night?” Sunset asked as she slipped from the shadows, hands casually resting behind her back.
“Not really. I’m guessing you’re either here to warn me to tell the others to back off, or else to try something drastic?”
“Well, you have pushed me to drastic measures,” she said. “You three really should have expected this.”
“So what’s it going to be? A gun? A knife? Just how far are you willing to go to get what you want?”
“Come now, Vital Spark.” Without warning, she pounced him, stuffing a cloth in front of his nose and mouth and holding it there. “I’m not a monster.”
Vital Spark had seen enough movies in his life on Earth to know what Sunset was doing. He struggled not to breathe, but some of the fumes had already entered his mouth and nostrils. He shoved Sunset back, forcing her to the ground as he backed away coughing. Everything felt like it was spinning, and he couldn’t quite find his balance. Suddenly he felt two heavy objects smash into him, knocking the air out of him and pinning him to the ground. The blurred faces of Snips and Snails sneered over him as Sunset walked up, her fiery hair darkened as she glared down at him. Her anger had stripped away her beauty. She wasn’t a shimmer; she was a fury. The last thing he felt was the brush of the cloth against his chin as he slipped into unconsciousness.
“No, thank you,” Grif said, turning down another offer to dance as he observed the room. The Fall Formal was in full swing, and everything was going well. Far too well for his liking. The coronation would be any moment, and Sunset still hadn’t made her final gambit. “Now where is Vital?” he wondered to himself as he scanned the room.
Pensword and Lunar Fang walked over after the last song ended. Pensword took on a stance like a guard for the Stage. He smirked as Flash Sentry had gotten in on the act at the last minute to be her knightly escort up the stairs. Lunar Fang stood at the adjacent staircase to complete the setup. The school enjoyed the act immensely. Certain adults appeared nervous as they took in the serious expression of the two guards, but Principal Celestia showed no worry or concern while she walked up to the mike, and that put them at ease.
“Here we go,” Pensword whispered. They all took a collective breath as the ceremony started.
“We made sure Vital had his GPS activated, right?” Grif whispered as he edged up to Pensword.
“Yes. Along with making sure he had some cologne on, so we can smell him out if needed.”
Grif took out his phone and activated the tracking app, typing in Vital Spark’s number. “Pensword, I think we may have a problem.”
“What is it?” Pensword’s expression had grow grim.
“Well–” Grif held up his phone “–here’s us. Here are the confines of the gym. That's the schoolyard. Where is Omni’s phone?”
“... On the school grounds.” Pensword’s expression grew more serious. “Should I stay here and you take a look at the school yard?”
“Not quite,” Grif said. “That's the janitor's supply room.”
“Then you go. The two of us can hold down the fort here.”
“You realize this is classic divide and conquer, right? She’ll make her move as soon as she figures it’s safe.”
“Yes, and she is facing two vets from the Third Gryphon War. Do you want to keep Vital in a closet till the crown is on her head, or do we grab him now?” The crowd erupted into cheering, and Vinyl started playing background music, much to the annoyance of Celestia as she continued her speech.
Grif’s hands passed his belt so casually it took a trained eye to see the glint of metal as he passed a knife to Pensword. “Get this in Lunar Fangs hands. Tell her to be ready to use it if necessary.” His eyes narrowed. “I’ve got a friend to save.”
“Right. We’ll see you later,” Pensword answered as the music began to fade and Celestia resumed with her usual gravity. “Go save him.”
“Vital! Vital, can you hear me?” Grif shouted for the third time. He was running out of options quickly. The door had been locked. He had attempted to pick the lock; however, the nature of the metal in his knives had only made problems worse as the tumblers sheared instead of moving. He had thrown himself repeatedly at the door, but it was too sturdy to give from the pressure. “Vital!” he called again.
The first thing Vital Spark experienced was taste. It was like someone had dumped liquid copper down his throat. He smacked his lips a few times. Then came the pain. It started of as a dull pressure, then it burrowed deeper and deeper until the pain was throbbing like a sledgehammer striking his skull. He groaned. “What?” he mumbled.
“Vital, are you okay?” Grif shouted again.
Oh, that pounding. It hurt so much. Where was it coming from? What he wouldn’t give for some ibuprofen right now. He slowly sat up. Where was he? It was dark. The thumping of his heart was so loud. He could hear the blood rushing through his veins to his head and back again like static. He started. “Sunset,” he said as the memory of the struggle returned. She’d drugged him. She’d actually drugged him.
“Vital? Answer me!” Grif shouted.
Vital rubbed his throbbing temples. Had he heard something? It was so hard to say. At least he wasn’t lying in the sun when he woke. That was a plus. He needed to get up and act. Do something. But he felt too sick to his stomach to do much of anything just yet. Nausea clawed at his throat and stomach as he struggled to maintain control, hissing through his teeth. “Just how much did she use on me?” he asked himself as he struggled to maintain control. He couldn’t help but gag a few times, though.
“Vital, if you’re in there, keep away from the door.” It was Grif’s voice, but it was warped, filled with anger. A wail that reminded Vital of a malevolent spirit clawing it’s way from hell sounded throughout the room, then another, and another. There was a cracking sound followed by something very heavy smashing against a surface farther away. Vital’s vision cleared long enough for him to make out Grif standing at the doorway, his eyes black with rage as the wind tunneled around his shoulders and down his arms, covering his hands in wicked-looking talons. “Vital? Are you okay?”
“Sunset,” he said first. “Water,” second. Then he coughed as he struggled not to throw up. Grif quickly grabbed Vital Spark and pulled him up as the white teen blinked owlishly, his eyes shut against the sudden light. “Augh. I think I’d take the concussion to this.”
Grif carefully set Vital down before leaving. A few moments later, he returned with a water bottle. “Here. Drink.”
“Vital did so greedily, first rinsing his mouth out and spitting down the drain in the closet, then by swallowing it down. “And I thought I was over needing a water bottle all the time.” He smiled weakly.
“She’s going to pay for this,” Grif growled as he pulled Vital’s free arm around his back and raised him to his feet. “This crosses the line.”
“Grif … how did you do that anyways? I thought we couldn’t use magic in this place.”
“This world is thriving,” Grif said, looking tired as he supported his friend on the way towards the gym. “They have optimal resources, healthy ecosystems, and little pollution. They may not have the mana that Equestria has, but the planet has enough life force that we can use a little of it.” He winced. “Just a little.”
“You hurt yourself,” Vital accused.
“I just ripped a three inch aluminum door off its hinges and threw it a hundred feet, so I may be just a bit winded, but there’s no time to stop. We need to get back to the others.”
“How long was I out?”
“The coronation was just starting when I left. When did she get you?”
“A … a few dances in. I left because I was getting too hot. I almost fended her off, but then Snips and Snails ganged up on me.”
“Come on. Let's see what happened in our absence,” Grif said as he hauled Vital’s weight.
They arrived in the back of the crowd as Principal Celestia placed the crown on Twilight’s head. Grif noticed, but was too far away to act as two familiar hooligans in a pair of top hats approached Fluttershy and snagged Spike. The dog tried to escape, and nearly succeeded until Snails helped restrain him completely as they snuck out the doors into the school’s halls. Spike barely managed a cry for help before they disappeared. Pensword immediately took off after them.
“Come back with that dog!” he yelled, making it a practical reenactment from a chasing montage. Give the two a pair of black capes and curly handlebar mustaches and it would have been perfect. As it was, the display still would have proved relatively entertaining were it not for the fact that Spike was currently being held hostage, and this was not a cheesy cartoon where nobody could really be permanently hurt. Twilight and the others took chase as well, spreading confusion and verbal mayhem as the situation spiraled right into what Grif and the others had anticipated.
“Here we go,” Grif said.
“We need to find Sunset. That’s where this’ll go down,” Vital said, pulling himself away from Grif. “And stop taking my weight. I should be taking yours.”
“My friend, I’ve dragged a Minotaur across a battlefield with an arrow sticking from my hip. This is nothing.”
“Let’s keep it that way then. Come on. We need to stop this before it gets any worse.” Vital looked back at the crowd. “I seriously can’t believe they didn’t notice Snips and Snails creeping up and taking Spike. Can anybody just dress up in a top hat, run up, and do what they want without getting caught?”
“Conversion of ninjutsu. Too many people in one place thins out their competency.”
“Seriously?” Vital raised a skeptical brow as they raced after the pair, following Twilight and the others on their heels.
“You already got on Murphy’s bad side. You really want to push this?” Grif asked.
“Screw Murphy. This is serious!”
Grif slapped Vital. “Never question Murphy.”
“Look, we’ll pursue this later. For now, follow those freshmen!”
The chase scene was long and drawn out, jumping from classroom to classroom and in and out of doors. At one point, Snips and Snails were racing back and forth with two of them in the halls at once running from door to door as they were followed by the other girls and Pensword.
“... This is getting ridiculous. Now they’re taking from Scooby Doo!” Vital exclaimed.
“Just shut up and catch them,” Grif said.
“How? I can’t even tell which is the real one.”
“Just run into the doors!” Pensword shouted as he ran by. “That is what I am doing. We should arrive at the right door sooner or later.”
Vital rolled his eyes and shrugged. “When in rome …” He lunged into one of the doors and entered the montage.
Eventually, they found themselves bursting through the school's front doors. Sunset Shimmer stood in her usual purple shirt, skirt, and leather jacket. Using both hands, she held a sledgehammer to the statue.
“That’s close enough,” Sunset said as Twilight approached. Snips and Snails waited obediently behind her, one holding on to their hostage, the other sneering at their adversaries.
“Twilight–!” Spike could say little more as Snails closed a hand over his muzzle while Snips worked to restrain the rest of his body.
“Don’t hurt him!” Twilight yelled
“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it. I’m not a monster, Twilight,” Sunset remarked. Holding the sledgehammer high, she looked back to Snips and Snails. “Let him go.” The two of them did as they were bid. Spike ran into Twilight’s arms as she knelt to embrace him. Sunset glared. “You don’t belong here. Give me the crown and you can go back to Equestria tonight.” She lifted the sledgehammer threateningly. “Or keep it and never go home!”
Twilight gasped.
“Psst. Vital, wouldn’t the hammer just fly into the portal?” Grif whispered.
“Depends on if iron’s a factor in this world,” Vital whispered back.
“Well, that is a steel sledgehammer,” Pensword whispered. “So it should just go through; however, I fear what Luna would do if it hit her.” A savage grin sprung on his face. The shadows hid it well.
“I don’t think we want an interdimensional war here, Pensword. Besides, let’s not forget what might happen if she destroyed the supports around the portal,” Vital said.
“Tic toc, Twilight. We haven’t got all night. The portal will be closing in nearly an hour. So … what’s your answer?” Sunset demanded.
Twilight removed her crown, looked to it as the gem glittered in the moonlight, the glared defiantly back at Sunset. “No.”
“What?” Sunset yelled. “Equestria! Your friends! Lost to you forever! Don’t you see what I’m about to do to the portal?”
Twilight rose to her feet after placing Spike down. Her friends stood firmly behind her. “Yes. But I’ve also seen what you’ve been able to do here without magic. Equestria will find a way to survive without my element of harmony. This place might not if I allow it to fall into your hands. So go ahead. Destroy the portal. But you are not getting this crown!” Twilight placed her crown resolutely back on her head.
“Fine. You win.” Sunset straightened and casually dropped the sledgehammer to the ground with a thump. Snips and Snails recoiled, narrowly escaping getting their toes crushed.
Rainbow rushed up next to Twilight. “You…. are…. so… awesome!” she squeaked.
“I can’t believe you were gonna do that for us,” Applejack said as Rarity came up next to her, clasping her arm in excitement.
“It’s no wonder you’re a real live princess,” the fashionista said.
Over by the statue, Sunset had been crossing her arms over her shoulders in defeat. She growled at the remark, pulling her hands away and clenching them into fists near her chest. Her irises shrank to pinpricks, then flared in anger. “Yeah, she’s so very special.” Her eyes narrowed and she charged, tackling twilight with her arm extended. Twilight toppled, but so, too, did the crown as it bounced across the stone pavement and out of Sunset’s reach.
Twilight reached for the crown, only to be taken in a choke hold by Sunset. Then Sunset crawled over Twilight, pushing the girl’s face into the stone as she scrambled to race ahead. Twilight grabbed her boot at the last second, barely keeping Sunset back from the crown as she reached as far as she could with lust in her eyes, her tongue extended in effort. At the last moment, Spike jumped on Sunset’s head, neatly plowing her face into the ground and easily taking up the crown in his mouth before dashing away.
“Grab him, you fools!” Sunset shouted to Snips and Snails. The instant the pair moved, Grif charged. He managed to catch Snails, but Snips, being shorter, narrowly avoided him.
Pensword went after Snips only to have a flailing leg kick his mountie hat off. Snips turned around in surprise. Pensword was down holding a hand over a rapidly blackening eye. Seeing this, Lunar Fang growled and savagely tackled the portly boy. The pair proceeded to roll around on the ground trading punches. Sunset shoved past them all in a headlong sprint for the crown. Spike was cornered at the door and Sunset approached with malevolent glee.
“Spike! Over here!” Vital Spark yelled. The puppy threw the crown for all he was worth. Vital caught hold of it. The moment it entered his hands, the headache was gone. He smiled. “Now that’s more like it.” Sunset charged him like a freight train. “Wuh-oh. Rainbow! Catch!” he shouted, tossing the crown with surprising accuracy. What followed was a surprisingly ridiculous game of keepaway as the crown leapt from one person to the next, ricocheting back and forth from all the girls until it reached Twilight. As the crowd bore down on her, she panicked, tossing the crown behind her into the waiting Sunset’s hands. The bully’s breathing was ragged, ranging somewhere between gasping, sobbing, and hiccuping.
“I’ll take that!” she said, chuckling cruelly.
“Sunset, please, no! Think what you’re doing!” Vital shouted, his voice strained, eyes bulging.
Sunset paid him no heed, continuing in her sobbing gasp. “At last! More power than I could ever imagine.” The moment the crown touched her head, it began pulsing with a dark energy that made Grif, Pensword, and Vital Spark’s spines run cold. Vital Spark clung to his head, cringing in pain. The dark energy from the crown grew until it consumed Sunset, washing over her like a wave of dark fire as it arced skywards in an angry pillar. Whether from pain or excitement, tears streamed down her face only to evaporate into steam instantly. Her skin turned a bloody red as her eyes became black with glowing neon teal irises. Her fingers became tipped in long claws not unlike the talons of a crow, and her hair proceeded to take on a shape like hellfire. Two large bat wings sprouted from her back, followed by a ragged looking Pony’s tail, which also licked like flames. Her tears ceased as she cackled maliciously. The group gasped in shock and horror at the new Sunset as she thrust out her arms, sending twin beams of dark magic at Snips and Snails. The magic encased them momentarily before vanishing to reveal both boys transformed into sinister demonic forms. Grif found himself suddenly being pushed back by Snails’ new demonic strength.
“This is going to be so cool!” Snips cheered. Lunar Fang groaned as she was also forced to give ground against the small demon.
Sunset heard the startled gasps of the students still inside the school as they stood inside the entrance. She proceeded to stick out her hand as it pulsed with dark magic and grasp it into a fist, causing the entire front of the school to be torn off and compacted before it was thrown away. “I’ve had to jump through so many hoops tonight just to get my hands on this crown, and it really should have been mine all along!” She let out a loud growl before smiling evilly. “But let’s let bygones be bygones. I am your princess now… and you will be loyal to me!” In an instant a beam of green light shot from her hand and hit the first of the students. A green ring formed over his head and vanished before several more beams proceeded to shoot from him and bounce to the other students. Everyone effected let out low entranced moans. An instant later, magic began encasing them before vanishing to reveal numerous lesser demons.
“Pensword, I think I know what her plan is now,” Grif said as he barely blocked one of Snails’ punches with his cane sword.
“What is it?” Pensword asked as he replaced his mountie hat. “I really…” he paused with a smile as he took off the hat and banged it over the head of one of the students. Miraculously, the demon fell unconscious while the hat remained completely intact. Next, he used it to deflect a magic beam. “Hah!” he cried, his outfit still spotless and in complete order.
“Get them to the portal,” Sunset tried to order Snips and Snails, not fully aware they were currently engaged.
“She wants to use this teenage demon army to invade Equestria!” Grif shouted, ducking another punch. He saw Lunar Fang take a kick to the side, but was unable to get to her. “Winds damnit, Hammer Strike, where are you?”
A ring of blue fire surrounded the statue, blocking any access to the portal. In the distance, Hammer Strike walked up towards the group wearing his blue and gold overcoat. He sighed to himself as he shook his hand, extinguishing it. “Sorry I’m late. Traffic was killer.” He looked up at the group, only to pause as he saw the now turned students. “I swear, it’s only been two hours at best.”
“Sunset works fast and efficiently, I’ll give you that,” Pensword answered as he knocked another student away. “Sorry. Excuse me. Coming Through. Thank you,” he said to each dazed demon after promptly smashing it with his hat.
“Now to deal with a thorn in my side!” Sunset said, her eyes locking on Twilight. She charged two large spheres of magic in her hands and combined them to send a massive beam towards the object of her unholy hatred.
There was a sudden blaze of white light and a thunderous crash. When the smoke cleared, Twilight stood unharmed. Vital Spark stood calmly in front of her, his hand outstretched and head bowed. There, in his palm, the pentagram blazed. “First you steal that which is not rightfully yours. Then you resort to blackmail, trickery, and deceit. You kidnapped not once, but twice, one of those targets being me. You invoke the power of the element of magic and twist it with your hate, causing it to shriek in pain, and probably committed all sorts of unspeakable acts before I even met you. And you know what the funny thing is? Even after all of that, I was willing to forgive you. To give you the benefit of the doubt. A chance to change.” His head snapped up, his eyes hard as tears poured down his cheeks. But there is one thing I cannot and will not forgive. You stole these people’s free will. And that? That makes me one pissed off Unicorn.”
“Oh shut up.” Sunset sneered sending another blast at him, followed by another and yet another. Vital stood his ground, but the force from the onslaught drove him back, causing him to slide over the pavement. The seal began to dim, its red fire flickering. Vital’s eyes had been closed as he concentrated on maintaining the barrier as long as he could, but the seal was weakening, and so was he. He could feel his reserves of energy fading.
“Twilight, I hope you have a plan here, because I think I’ve only got enough juice left here for one more shot.”
“Vital Spark, get away! It’s me she wants. I’m not going to let one of my friends get vaporized,” Twilight said.
“And you think I would either?” Vital smirked. “We’re all behind you, Twilight, and we’ll all protect you. That’s what friends do.”
Pensword grunted in agreement as he elbowed another Demon. “He’s right.” Despite the rough and tumble of the battle, his uniform was somehow still perfectly immaculate with his stiff mountie hat still on his head. He was the picture of the noble general for all of three seconds until a demon snuck up from behind and yanked him back by the collar and into the fray.
“Though if you could find a deus ex machina, it would be appreciated,” Grif grunted as he struggled onwards, continuing to grapple with Snails and two demonic reinforcements. Despite his skills and training, his breathing was growing heavy, and his movements were beginning to slow.
“No help is coming for any of you!” Sunset said as she rained down more blasts at Vital Spark’s ward. With the sound of shattering glass, it broke. The star’s light died completely, and Vital Spark was driven to his knees. Sunset laughed. “Now that that’s dealt with,” Sunset growled, charging up the largest blast yet. A massive construct of magical energy the size of a beach ball crackled over her head with dark lighting. “It’s time to deal with Twilight Sparkle.”
Much to her credit, Twilight stepped up in front of her friends to stare the demoness down. “You won’t succeed, Sunset Shimmer. Harmony will prevail, and I will find a way to stop you. You’re not going to use my friends like this.”
Sunset let her magic disperse. Much like every villain before her, she felt the instinctive urge to gloat over those she felt were inferior. “Oh, please. What exactly do you think that you’re going to do to stop me? I have magic, and you have nothing.” Sunset’s hair flared like water on a grease fire as she hovered over the brave purple girl.
“She has us!” a familiar voice proclaimed. Rainbow Dash stood at the head of the five friends. Even Fluttershy was glaring, practically brimming with bravery. Rarity glowered with determination as Pinkie planted her hands on her hips and Applejack adjusted her stetson in true rodeo fashion. Twilight grinned back at them, glad of their support as Sunset bore her teeth like a dog and growled. Then, surprisingly, Sunset laughed.
“Aww, gee. The gang really is all back together again.” She laughed again, wiping a tear from her eye. Then the moment was past, and her eyes lost all color save the angry corrupted teal. She gathered the magic once more. “Now step aside. Twilight has tried to interfere with my plans one too many times already.” She raised her hands above her head, growing the ball of malevolent energy once more. “She needs to be dealt with.” With those words said, she launched the sphere she had charged with all her hatred, loathing, malice, and envy at Twilight. A maniacal grin of triumph shone on her face as she watched, waiting for the screams that were surely to come. There was a bright flash of red light and Sunset laughed wickedly to the skies. At last, her most hated foe was dead and gone. No one would stand in her way. No one would take her crown.
Or so she thought.
As the smoke cleared, Sunset Shimmer gawked, her laughter cut off in sheer astonishment. “What?”
The five friends huddled protectively over Twilight, each bound shoulder to shoulder. A familiar purple aura had surrounded all six of them. As each opened their eyes, they found themselves wide-eyed with shock. They were alive. Still clasping one another’s hands, they stared at each other and smiled. Twilight grinned with excitement and stepped out of the circle. Her friends continued to hold each other’s hands as she pointed triumphantly at Sunset Shimmer. “The magic contained in my element was able to unite with those that helped create it!” Suddenly the crown glowed a brilliant violet as a stream of pure magic flowed out of its gem, surrounded by a white corona. The beam touched the six girls and they slowly rose from the ground as a nearly blinding white light flooded from them. Twilight’s voice still echoed out as the magic flowed within each of them, altering their appearance.
Applejack’s ears adjusted, popping out on top of her head as her stetson adjusted to fit. Then her hair grew out, braiding itself into an intricately tied ponytail that reached practically down to her ankles. Her clothing had been highlighted by apples at various locations including the hem of her dress and the tops of her boots.
“Honesty,” Twilight’s voice echoed.
The rest of the friends soon followed suit, each changing one after the other as Twilight named their respective elements.
“Kindness. Laughter. Generosity. Loyalty! Magic.” Much like her friends, Twilight experienced her own transformation, grinning all the while as the magic from her crown streamed onto her forehead.
The effects seemed to stretch elsewhere as well as Grif dodged snails’ punch, appearing behind the demon with blinding speed. The wind whistled behind him as he landed blow after blow. Lunar Fang, likewise, seemed to gain strength as her eyes slitted. She flipped Snips over her shoulder, twisting the demon's hand behind his back. Pensword was surprised to find he was experiencing a second wind. He grinned as he tore through the crowds, not so fast as Grif, but he seemed to practically dance as he dodged the demons’ attacks, letting them hit one another instead. Vital Spark breathed a sigh of relief as he got shakily to his feet and smiled. On a random whim, he whipped his fist backwards in an effort to impersonate a certain baboon he’d once seen a long time ago on television. Much to his surprise, he made contact. Turning, he found a familiar gold demon with blue highlights clutching his face as he curled on the ground. Vital’s hands flung to cover his mouth. “Oh my gosh. Flash, are you alright? I’m so sorry.” A series of groans and murmurings were all he got in return. “Oh … right. You’re being mind controlled right now.” He turned to face the bright light emanating from the five friends. Hey, Twilight, mind hurrying it up? I think these students need to get back to normal.”
Twilight apparently couldn’t hear him over the rush of her own magic. “Together with the crown, they create a power beyond anything you could imagine. But it is a power you don’t have the ability to control. The crown may be upon your head, Sunset Shimmer, but you cannot wield it, because you do not possess the most powerful magic of all: the magic of friendship!” Twilight took Rarity and Rainbow Dash’s hands in her own as the rest followed suit, uniting their powers together as they rose still higher until they formed the shape of a heart with their arms. The instant they did so, the positive energy they exuded manifested in the form of two rainbow halves spiraling around in a double helix until they finally merged as they struck the brooding clouds overhead. The resulting white light flared before a fully formed rainbow struck downwards on the raging she-demon.
Sunset recoiled, raising her hands above her head as if to defend herself. The rainbow struck at the base of her feet and began to circle her, much as it had a certain Nightmare only a few years ago. “What ... is … happening?” she cried as a virtual tornado of color rose to surround and obscure her. A series of what could only be described as colored fireworks blasted out from the top of the spout in a brilliant display.
Twilight continued her monologue as her eyes glowed a pure white. “Here, and in Equestria, it is the only only magic that can truly unite us all.” The colors surged around the girls before firing on a demonic Flash Sentry, who had only just gotten back to his feet. The rainbow struck him, creating a miniature version of the same tornado that held Sunset shimmer, even as an aura-like circle surrounded that, dispelling the mind control. The counterspell of harmony rapidly spread, returning every student back to normal before striking Snips and Snails, who had both been backed into a corner by Grif and Lunar Fang. With one final flash of light, Twilight and her friends settled onto the ground once more, their new Pony features still visible as they lay prone on the ground.
What few students had remained inside the school building filed their way to the giant opening, while the others who had been outside either rubbed their heads or helped others to rise before congregating with their fellows. Twilight’s friends raised their heads dizzily while Twilight still lay unconscious. A quick lick from Spike soon fixed that, and Twilight opened her arms to embrace the dog as the other five moved to join in.
Snails had attempted to run in the confusion, only for Grif to catch him by the collar of his shirt. “Not happening,” Grif said firmly. Lunar Fang, likewise, kept Snips in place.
Twilight turned in surprise. Everyone did as they gawked at the massive crater that had formed in the middle of the intersection between the four walkways leading from the school to the street and the two paths around the school itself. Smoke still rose from the hole as Twilight’s shadow fell across it and the now pathetic-looking Sunset Shimmer. She had been reduced to a mere girl once again, her hair bedraggled, and her body weak as she slowly began to pull herself up. The true Princess’s voice was stern.
“You will never rule in Equestria. Any power you may have had in this world is gone. Tonight, you’ve showed everyone who you really are.” Twilight motioned somewhat sadly to her side, where the whole of the school strode up to see the former bully. “You’ve shown them what is in your heart.”
“Sunset Shimmer,” Grif handed Snails to Vital Spark before making his way to the crater. “As a mercenary in Equestria, I have the unique authority to take custody of you outside Equestria’s borders. Therefore, in the name of the crowns of Equestria, I hereby arrest you for your crimes against Equestria, the Crystal Empire, and Canterlot High School.”
Sunset’s eyes grew wide as what was happening fully dawned on her. “I–I throw myself at Celestia’s mercy.”
Grif pulled her up and shoved her out of the crater. “Cute, but until I transfer your custody, you are a prisoner of the Bladefeather clan. You will henceforth, upon our return, be transferred into the custody of the only crown who can judge you fairly and without bias. In short, you will be transferred into the custody of the prison keeper for the Lunar house until a trial can be arranged.” He produced a plastic pull tie cuff from his suit and proceeded to cuff her hands together. “As your crimes include both treason to the crown and manipulation through dark magic, you do not have the right to be provided an Equestrian legal aid. You will present your case to Princess Luna directly. When you are found guilty, if the princess decides to show you mercy, you will be sent to the Badlands with the Equestrian Foreign Legion to fight for your right to pardon against the Changeling threat there.”
“And if she doesn’t decide mercy?” Sunset asked. The cocky smirk had been blown away by the TNT that was Grif Bladefeather. Her frame began to shake as Grif pulled her next to Pensword and Hammer Strike. Her normally healthy skin paled to a pasty yellow.
“As you already know, the law is hard coded from before the reign of Discord. You have committed both treason and used black magic. Should you be found guilty, the headsman's axe awaits you.” This revelation was followed by a series of collective gasps by all the non-Equestrians within earshot. Pensword did not seem fazed as he folded his arms and glared at Sunset Shimmer.
“Is ... is that true, Twilight?” Fluttershy asked in horror.
Twilight looked sadly at Sunset, even pityingly. “I’m afraid it is, Fluttershy. Equestria hasn’t had to enforce the law in centuries … but it still stands.” She hung her head.
“But that's ... that's – why, that’s simply not right!” Rarity said. “Surely there must be something? Her actions were horrible, yes, but she hardly deserves to die for it!”
“The last Unicorn who succeeded in casting dark magic and escaping justice was able to enslave an entire nation for nearly a thousand years,” Twilight said abysmally. “As much as I want to change things, I can’t. The law won’t let me. Not for this.”
“I sure hope not,” Pensword muttered darkly. “She was planning a full scale invasion to usurp her own mentor.” He stepped forward, eyes narrowing. “I fought Sombra, and frankly… I am very, very happy you did not get as far as he did. Pray to Faust you find mercy, because I won’t give any.”
“So part of the reason she has to die is because you don’t want her taking the chance to use dark magic again, right?” Applejack asked. “So why not… why not make her stay here?”
“After what she did the first time?” Grif scoffed.
“She is a national threat, and I am sworn to protect my nation from enemies of any kind, as well as threats to the princesses themselves. If she did it the first time, I am not letting her stay here. She could rebuild, learn, and get a second chance at her plans. I will not let another Gryphon Empire happen, nor another Reich. This ends here and now,” Pensword declared hotly.
“Hold up there, cowboy. Now I’m not sayin’ you just let her go. But Granny always taught us that the good book says ‘love thy enemy.’ It seems to me that Sunset here took a dark path, and it led her to a bad place. When you all go back to your home, and that portal closes, and the crown’s safely on the other side, it’ll take all the magic away with it, won’t it?” Applejack eyed them. “So then, if I got this right, that gives the five of us plenty of time to show her where she went wrong, right? Sort of like a… a… gosh darn it, what's the term?”
“Correctional therapy,” Rarity said.
“That's it! Correctional therapy. If y’all come back when the portal opens and she’s still nasty, then y’all can take her back with you,” Applejack offered.
“Sunset may have pissed me off, guys, but Applejack does have a point. She doesn’t have any magic left, and now that the rest of the school knows the truth, she doesn’t have any power or influence either. It could work,” Vital said.
“No. Absolutely–”
“I accept,” Twilight said, effectively cutting Pensword off. “If we can find an alternative that doesn’t kill Sunset, and might even make her a better person, who am I to deny it?” She straightened herself up. “Sunset Shimmer, as the only standing Princess here, I hereby give this ruling. You are to be banished to this world on a temporary basis, during which time, you will have the chance to learn about real magic from Applejack, Rarity, Rainbow Dash, Fluttershy, and Pinkie Pie. I will leave you in their custody, and that of Principal Celestia and Vice Principal Luna. They will determine what punishment is suitable for your crimes, and enforce the ruling. When next we return, if you’ve truly shown progress, then mercy will be granted, and you will receive a lighter trial from all four princesses, in which your time here and the things you’ve learned will be taken into account. Should you show true change, these charges will most likely be dropped, and you will be able to remain in Equestria should that be your wish. The choice is ultimately yours.”
“Now hold on a moment, Twilight. Mercy’s all well and good, but she’s in my custody, and I think you’re going just a bit soft on her,” Grif said, still holding the pull tie connecting Sunset’s hands.
“Primary priority is getting the element back,” Hammer Strike started as he looked over the group. “She is simply a child, naive and brewing over the temper tantrum she’s been having for the last three years.”
“You can’t be serious.” Grif looked at hammerstrike in shock.
“Grif, I honestly don’t care what happens to her. Twilight made her call, and I just don’t care enough to make any argument against her, or for her. I just want to go home.” Hammer Strike’s voice was flat. “Just let her suffer here, and see if she can get her life back in order.”
Grif glared as he reluctantly moved to Sunset’s back and pulled out a dagger. As he did so, he whispered in her ear. “You so much as sneeze out of line and I’ll barrel through that portal with a hanky and a dagger, you hear me?” With that said, he cut the tie with a snap.
Sunset proceeded to rub her wrists, tears streaming down her face. Relief, fear, humiliation, and pride warred for dominance within her. She looked humbly towards the five girls with large puffy eyes, moved by the sincerity they had put forth in saving her life; however, it was important to note that guilt had yet to make an appearance within her warring feelings as she walked quietly towards them.
Celestia bent to the ground, picking up the crown that had started it all. Somehow, it still remained untouched by the dirt and grime that surrounded it. She turned to Twilight with measured, smooth strides. “A true princess in any world leads, not by forcing others to bow before her, but by inspiring others to stand with her. And a truly great leader knows most of all when to employ mercy. We have all seen you’re capable of just that, and I hope you can see it, too, Princess Twilight.” Twilight kneeled before her as Celestia placed the crown gently on her head.
Grif didn’t bother staying to watch as he approached the portal. “Well, I think Twilight can handle it from here. I don’t know about you guys, but I’ve had enough of vacation. I’m heading home.”
“So… I am to watch Twilight, with only Lunar Fang with me during a high school dance after this … well,” he waved his hand around the entire courtyard, “this!”
“Well, at least it isn’t all that bad,” Spike said as the hippie teen next to him looked down and gawked.
“Did that dog just talk?” He asked in utter shock
“Dude, after all this, the talking dog is what’s unbelievable?” Spike deadpanned.
“On second thought, I think Twilight is in good wings at the moment,” Pensword said, sweatdropping as he looked on.
Grif chuckled as he got on his hands and knees. “What? I’m not falling over when I get to the other side,” he said. “Allons-y! Onward and upward!” And with that, he charged headfirst into the portal.
“Hammer Strike, where are the items?” Pensword asked, looking frantically for the things he was hoping to bring back to Equestria.
“Put them through a while ago. Don’t expect much.”
“I only expect the two books. Anything else is just a nice bonus.” He looked to Lunar Fang. “When we get back, I promise you one cloud dance.” With that, the two of them followed Grif’s example and walked through the portal.
“Guess that just leaves us, huh, Shawn?” Vital Spark said as he looked back at the crowd. “I think I’ll have a quick talk with Sunset before we go. I’m pretty sure we can trust Twilight now that everyone knows her secret.”
Hammer Strike looked to a watch on his wrist. “If I’m right, you got some time, but we need to keep things moving.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll be quick. I just have a few things I want to say to her before I go.”
Hammer Strike shrugged.
“I’ll take that as an okay.” Vital Spark smiled wanly as he turned to approach Sunset Shimmer, who had been put to work on the rubble that had been strewn about when she’d wrenched the main entrance out of the front of the school. Snips and Snails were working with the wheelbarrow and mortar. Vital nodded respectfully to Principal Celestia, then continued past. “Got a minute to talk, Sunset?”
“I’m not going anywhere,” she said, somewhat relieved and somewhat sad.
“Better than the alternative,” Vital said as he dusted off a boulder to sit down. “Care to join me?” he asked, patting the space beside him.
“I’d figure you’d be the last person who’d want to speak to me,” Sunset said, sitting next to him. She rolled her eyes. “Let’s get this over with.”
“And there’s your problem. You assume too much and don’t take time to consider all the perspectives. I’m not here to yell at you, Sunset, though I am going to tell you how I feel about what you chose to do tonight, and the consequences it nearly had. Tell me, how much do you know about the elements of harmony?”
What followed was a lengthy discussion in which Vital Spark was able to explain about the power of harmony and how it most likely existed in multiple forms throughout the known universe. He then proceeded to tell her at some length just how painful her choice had been for him because of his unique magical field, and lastly, he told her a little about his past and the importance of free will to his culture and his religious background. What had been meant to be a short conversation soon stretched to nearly a full hour. Vital sighed.
“Look, basically, what it comes down to is this. I’m really upset. Part of me really wants to hate you, and I seriously hate that part of myself. I want to forgive you, but that’s going to take time before it can happen, and it’ll likely take even longer before I’m willing to trust you. I guess what I’m trying to say is I wish you the best of luck, and I hope you really do change. I’ve been there myself. It’s worth it in the end if you do.” Vital Spark stood up and dusted his pants off. “I’d probably better get going. Hammer Strike’s starting to look a little anxious over there. I’ll see you in about three years or so. Until then, please, at least try. You might even find you like what they have to teach you. So-long, Sunset.”
“Wait.” Sunset stood up and grabbed Vital’s hand. “I know it may not mean a lot coming from me, but thank you. For the dance.” In a surprisingly out of character move, Sunset quickly leaned forward to peck Vital on the cheek before she turned to head back to Snips and Snails.
Vital Spark stared after her, dumbstruck. “What … just happened?”
“You got a kiss on the cheek,” Hammer Strike replied in his usual flat tone as he approached. “We’re running thin on time, so if you’re done, we need to go.”
“Yeah. I’m finished. I’m just … really confused.” Vital shook his head as he approached the statue. “Guess I’ll see you on the other side. Oh, and brace yourself. Pinkie will probably have streamers and a welcome home cake at the ready for each of us. You know how much she loves cake.” Vital turned one last time to face the school and saluted before passing through the base of the statue and out of sight.
Hammer Strike looked towards Twilight, who was still chatting amongst the group. “Twilight, we’re running out of time.”
“I know, I know. I’m coming. Just … just a minute.” She proceeded to hug her friends, last of all Flash. She blushed violently as she did so. “Thanks for the dance. It was a lot of fun.” She smiled contentedly.
“No problem,” he answered, rubbing the back of his neck. “Well, good luck, and ... you won’t hold it against me for going all zombie demon on you and your friends?” he asked with a nervous chuckle.
“Wouldn’t dream of it.” She giggled, then turned, her ponytail swinging dramatically behind her. She ran to the statue and turned back one last time to wave. “Alright, Hammer Strike. I’m ready.”
The pair passed through the mirror and out of sight just as four familiar stars finished converging on the moon. A dim glow passed in the skies, and they were gone. Mere seconds afterwards, Pinkie Pie rushed the portal, only to smash comedically into the statue, causing everyone to laugh, relieved for the world to be back to normal for a change. All was well at Equestria High.
Extended Holiday Ch 83: Return of the Princess Act 11
Pensword and Lunar Fang were both hovering and flitting about the room, joyfully reclaiming the use of their wings and hooves. Celestia and the others stared, confused at their antics, and two very worried Gryhponesses had joined them. When Grif had emerged from the portal, he was covered in cuts and scrapes. He clung to the two still-simmering Gryphonesses in a tight embrace. Tears stood in his eyes at the thought of almost being unable to see them again. Next came a somewhat wide-eyed Vital Spark, who quietly made his way to the edge of the room and promptly sat down on his hind quarters.
Next came Twilight and Spike. The girls immediately grinned and rushed to greet the victorious princess, embracing her, patting her on the back, and performing all other motions fitting their personal character. Celestia smiled warmly at the scene, and Luna sighed with relief. Twilight’s element was firmly affixed on her head.
Lastly came Hammer Strike. He sighed and shrugged his shoulders, only to immediately experience the clinging sensation that was Rarity Belle glomping his neck as she sobbed into his shoulder.
“I was so worried!” she exclaimed.
Hammer Strike returned the hug. “I’m sorry to have worried you, but at least I’m back now.”
Rarity pulled back to look him in the eye. “Next time you have to go on one of these adventures, I’m coming with you.”
“It depends,” Hammer Strike said.
“Depend nothing. I’m coming and that’s that.” She folded her forelegs assertively.
Pensword and Lunar Fang were dancing in the air, a giddy pair before they finally came down to face their princesses. “Where are Cadence and Moon River?” they asked.
“Napping together. It’s a little bit on the late side, or perhaps it’s better to say early. Your daughter has taken a great liking to Cadence. It seems the world’s best foalsitter still has the magic touch.” Celestia smiled. “You’ll find them in your guest room if you want to head there now.” She looked hopefully towards the mirror.
Pensword nodded before letting loose a wicked grin. “Oh, I think I am going to spend time with my family. I know Hammer Strike needs to get to his forge, and I do not wish to break up the reunion for Twilight and her friends.” He looked over his shoulder. “So congrats, Vital, you just got volunteered to report to the Princess. Come along, Lunar Fang.” He chuckled as he led his wife from the room.
Vital shook his head. “Wait, what? Pensword!” But it was too late. He rolled his eyes, snorted in aggravation, then proceeded to approach the princesses. He saw Celestia’s expression fall as a dim flash went off behind him.
“So … she’s not coming.”
“She’s alive, Celestia. That’s what matters.” Taking a deep breath, Vital Spark proceeded to narrate the events as best he could under the circumstances. While hesitant and more than a little embarrassed at being the center of attention, he gradually warmed to the role and donned a mantle as old as the universe itself, that of the storyteller. The cries of outrage, the appearance of sorrow and loss, the growls of anger, and the curt nods of approval were all the approbation he required. “So yeah, Twilight basically put Sunset on parole in the other world, where she’d get the chance to learn the error of her ways, rather than have to come here, where there would be no choice but to let Luna be the judge at a trial where Sunset would doubtless be ruled guilty and either be executed or sent to fight in the badlands.” Vital Spark felt his cheeks burn as the memory of Sunset’s chaste kiss returned. His brow furrowed as another conversation came to mind. “Begging your majesty’s pardon, but I’d like to arrange a private audience if I may at a later date. There are some questions I need to have answered, and some things that I need to say to you alone involving a mutual acquaintance.”
Celestia looked wilted, and for the first time in the history of any modern Pony’s memory, her mane actually became somewhat limp, “... I’ll see what I can arrange, Vital Spark. If you’ll excuse me, I must go see to the rest of the summit’s arrangements.” With that, Celestia left.
Luna looked after her sister, concern in her eyes. “Tia …”
“She feels like she failed Sunset Shimmer, Luna. A lot like how she felt she failed you all those years ago. You should go to her. We can find our rooms ourselves and see you later.”
Luna said nothing as Vital and the others left. She simply stared at the mirror. Finally, as the room cleared out, she spoke. “Thirty moons, Sunset Shimmer. I pray you use them well. For if you hurt my sister again, it matters not how many worlds separate us. I will hunt you down. And when I find you, the pain I bring you will be spoken in whispers amongst the deepest denizens of Tartarus’ cells.” The promise echoed into the nigh empty room for an eternity before the lunar princess turned and headed off towards her rooms.
The Mane Six were all walking and talking as Twilight went over some of the specifics Vital had skipped when Twilight suddenly bumped into one of the guards. The clatter of armor was heard, along with the solid thump of her rump hitting the floor. She got back up with the help of a yellow hoof that led to a familiar blue and yellow mane.
“We have to stop bumping into each other like this.” The yellow Pegasus laughed as he helped her up before returning to his patrol.
“... Who was that?” Twilight asked as she stared after him. She was having a peculiar sense of dejavous, and she could feel a mild blush in her cheeks.
“He’s a new member of the Castle Guard. Flash Sentry, I think. Why?” Cadence asked, looking slyly at her favorite foal. “Do you know him?”
Twilight smirked as she pressed ahead of her friends. “Not exactly.”
“Ooh! Somepony’s got a crush on the new guy!” Applejack jeered as she poked a knowing hoof in Twilight’s direction.
“No. No, I don’t!” Twilight said as her eyes darted left and right nervously. She was getting flustered, and the signs were showing.
Rarity let out a gasp. “She does! She absolutely does,” she sang.
“Don’t be ridiculous. I don’t even know him,” Twilight countered. “He just–”
“Totally reminds you of a guy you met in the other world who played guitar, was in a band, and helped prove you didn’t destroy all the decorations for a big dance so you could still run for princess of a big dance, and then asked you to dance at that dance?” Pinkie Pie asked in one of her long continuous sentences, but even this one stressed her lungs as she took a deep breath to recover. “Right?”
Twilight looked back at her friend and cocked her head in confusion. “How did you know that?”
Pinkie shrugged, giving her classic enigmatic grin. “Just a hunch.”
Twilight laughed nervously and continued forward, doing her best to ignore and not comment on Pinkie and her friends’ teasing. “I think I’m going to bed. Like I said before, all that dancing really made me tired. I’ll see you girls later. Don’t wake me till breakfast, okay?” With that, Twilight smiled down at Spike, who smiled back in return as the pair made their way back to her room for a well deserved rest.
“So I heard that there were duplicates of us over in that world you went to,” Rarity said pleasantly from the worktable she and Hammer Strike shared. The ruffle of blueprint paper and the familiar scent of quill and ink was comforting as they each peered over their designs. “What was the other me like? And for that matter, what was the other you like? It must have been rather awkward during your first meeting.”
“More than you can imagine,” Hammer Strike replied.
“I sense there’s something you’re not telling me, darling.”
“Well, there was a notable age difference in that world, I’ll give you that.”
“Did she try to come on to you?”
“More like how someone would act to meeting a celebrity.”
“I find myself wondering how you managed to deal with it,” she said as she shifted to a side view of her sketches and began to include measurements she knew only too well. She smiled sidelong at Hammer Strike as she continued to work. This noble armor would be a jewel of a design.
“Wasn’t a long encounter, thankfully. Though the conversation with myself was interesting.”
“I think that needs a little more explanation,” Rarity said as she looked up from her work to stare him in the face.
He shrugged. “As you already know, In that world, there was another me. The only difference between us was how we each grew up and what society we grew up around. Other than that, we acted the same, had some hobbies that nearly matched, you name it.”
“And that felt strange to you?”
“Imagine it as though I was talking to a mirror, because it was pretty much like that.”
“You spoke at the same time all the time? Like a twin?”
“We did have the occasional mistake like that, but not all the time.”
“Did he have a passion for drawing all sorts of armor designs and making them, too?” Rarity smirked just a little.
Hammer Strike paused as he remembered countless designs for firearms, engines, and other miscellaneous projects. “Somewhat. Though he had more overall for designing things, primarily because he doesn’t limit himself.”
“And why do you anyways? I’ve watched you actually burn some of your documents after you’ve finished designing them. Are they really that dangerous?”
“Some of the designs I’ve drawn are more than I’m willing to give this world.”
“Because we’re not ready?” She jotted a few extra measurements.
“Because if you so much as twitch, it could kill everyone in a mile radius...”
“Why would anyone want to create something like that in the first place?” Rarity said, aghast. “Oh, and which color would you prefer: blue, red, or green?”
“Because who knows if I’ll ever have to use them? And blue.”
“Blue it is. You know, you really should try widening your color pallette some time.” With a dramatic flourish, the design was finished. “I’ve got it! I think I’ll call it KEVLAR.”
“Kevlar?” Hammer Strike questioned at the familiar name.
“Knightly and Eloquent Victory Lovingly Assured by Rarity.”
“A tactical vest?”
“Of sorts. I’ve been working on my designs to make them less noticeable while still fitting your unique fashion choices. Since you prefer something more conservative, I’ve had to improvise, but I do believe this should do rather nicely.” She levitated the sketch over with her horn for Hammer Strike to peruse.
Hammer Strike rubbed his chin. “Hmm. Maybe so.”
Pensword fluffed his wings in the infirmary with Lunar Fang by his side. They leaned their heads together, enjoying the sensation of fur and wings again. Pensword sighed happily. His body tingled as he got a small medical scan. “So, how is our health?” he asked the nurse.
“You and your friends are perfectly fine, Commander, but could you please step off the scanner? Lady Lunar Fang, if you could move more towards the center, please? I think we need to scan you again,” the crystal doctor said.
“Is something wrong?” Lunar Fang asked.
“No, no, we just need to confirm something in the test results.”
Pensword gave Lunar Fang a worried look before nodding his head. “You’ll do fine, dear. We did just go to another world after all. Nothing too serious should have happened.”
Lunar Fang shuddered as the scanner’s magic passed over her. The doctor examined the results and raised his eyebrow.
“How old is your daughter?” he asked
Lunar Fang smiled. “Four months.”
“Have you been exposed to any strange spells, taken any kind of medication, possibly eaten some kind of exotic flower?”
Pensword and Lunar Fang looked at each other. “Well,” Pensword began, only to have Lunar Fang cut him off.
“Well, if by strange you mean becoming a two-legged being without wings, fur, or hooves; having to learn how to use these new members called hands, fingers, and feet; and then having to function in this strange new world like I’d had that body my whole life, then yes.” She barely suppressed another shudder. “I think I can honestly say I never want to go back.”
“... Well then, my Lady, I, um, have some interesting news for the two of you.” He chuckled nervously. “We’ve checked the machine’s mechanics and magical components for accuracy. There doesn’t appear to be any mistakes.” He shuffled from hoof to hoof. “You may want to sit down, Commander.” He took a deep breath. “Within a ninety nine percent accuracy, you’re with foal.” Lunar fang’s eyes bulged. “You can understand my surprise. It’s entirely unprecedented for a mare to be with foal in such a close period.”
After a moment, the beakers and lab equipment in the room began to shake and tremble under the two pronged assault that was Lunar Fang and Pensword’s voices. “What?”
Lunar Fang turned and glared at her husband. “Explain. NOW!”
Pensword flinched. “Humans,” he began, “Human females are fertile almost all the time.” He closed his eyes and waited for his wife to clobber him, or bite him, or whack him with her wings. What happened instead frightened him even more. He felt the violent hug of two strong hooves, the gentle embrace of leather membrane, the warmth of her lips on his cheek as she kissed and nuzzled him.
He opened his eyes a crack only to have his entire face whacked forcefully as he tumbled onto the floor.
“The first part was for making sure we have an heir to the High Dutchy. That last part was for not warning me about Human females. Your third part is going to wait till tonight. You get to spend all night with Moon River. If you do well, we’ll go out on a date before we go home. Deal?”
“Yes, dear,” Pensword spoke. “I ... I’m sorry.” He was about to speak more only to suddenly be silenced by two aggressive lips on his own.
“Uh...?” The nurse spoke as she brought in some vials for blood samples to be taken. The doctor also stared at the rather passionate display.
“I kiss him whenever he uses a contraction. I need to do something to reinforce them, don’t I?” Lunar Fang responded with a mischievous giggle.
“I’m going to send a message along to your doctor in Equestria. For the sake of everyone involved, I think we should have you seeing a professional constantly until delivery. I also would think that Canterlot Medical University may be sending somepony along to ask you a couple of questions. Is that going to be alright?” the crystal doctor asked.
Pensword sighed and shook his head. “Why not?” He began to laugh as his wife leaned in with a question in her eyes. “I’ll tell you later,” he explained, still laughing. “Still, we are going to be parents, and this time, those snooty nobles cannot get this child. Since we have this wedding agreement with Cosy, by cultural standards the next move is our moves to make, not theirs. We just placed ourselves another peg up on the pecking chain.”
“To Tartarus with the pecking chain,” Lunar Fang said as she kissed him yet again.
“Knock knock?” Grif poked his head cautiously into the room. “Breakfast?”
The two Gryphonesses were sound asleep, curled around one another to conserve body heat, just as Grif had left them a few hours earlier. A wide blanket had been draped over them to help maintain the warmth as they supplied blood not only to themselves, but to the growing cubs in their wombs as well.
Grif smiled to himself as he wheeled the covered trolley into the room as silently as possible. The rich smell of eggs, cheese, and bacon filled the air as he did. Scanning the surroundings, he took notice that Hammer Strike had delivered the small chest Grif had taken from the other world. Moving silently he pulled the chest aside and opened it, revealing two neat stacks of books and a small plastic container filled with different individually wrapped meats that had been kept cool up until this time. Grif began to sort the books as he waited for the two to wake up.
20,000 Leagues Under the Sea. Grif chuckled. Some things must just be universal. He had found several copies of this book amongst the shelves of Hammer Strike’s library in the other world. It had initially been a shock to find the book was so eerily similar to the book he remembered from Earth, and yet there were obvious differences. Of course, the naming scheme was the most obvious difference. He smiled as he looked at the covers of other classics. Grimble and Grumble’s Collective Fairy Tales, Romance of the Three Kingdoms, 1001 Tales, each book made him smile with nostalgia and anticipation to read them again. He was so enticed in his work he didn’t even pick up the movement behind him. In a matter of seconds, Grif found himself pinned to the floor by two grinning Gryphonesses.
“Good morning, handsome,” Avalon said.
“We missed you,” Shrial continued.
“So you’ve forgiven me?” Grif asked, remembering back to their rather brutal reunion the previous night.
“Not even close,” Shrial said, her eyes hard. “But we’re willing to overlook what happened if you stop being so impulsive. Let us know the next time you plan on going to another world beforehand, idiot.” She kissed him lovingly on the cheek.
“How are we supposed to be able to raise these cubs if they don’t have their hero of a father to raise them?” Avalon said as she sidled up on the other end and rubbed against Grif’s side.
“With the mountains of gold and jewels I stored away and the faithful clanmates who would do anything for you?” Grif chuckled dryly. “But seriously, it wasn’t something I planned, and I promise I’ll be more careful. But this journey wasn’t without profit.” Grif gave them both a kiss before gently moving them aside and rising. “These books. In Equestria, there aren’t any copies like them from what Twilight’s told me, and chances are she’d know. They're not exactly the books I grew up with, but they're similar enough that I have something to show our cubs. A few special stories to read to them before bed,” he said, picking up the book on fairy tales. “In a way, I can give them more of me this way.”
“With all the stories you have in that shell-cracked head of yours already?” Shrial asked.
Avalon also looked on skeptically. “Didn’t you say you already could remember most every story you read from before you came to Equestria?”
“This book holds over two hundred and eleven stories on it’s own,” Grif said, indicating the fairytale book in his hands. He pointed to another. “And that one has a thousand and one tales. My memory is good, but not that good.”
“It still doesn’t outweigh the risk,” Avalon said.
“I also managed to acquire some special meats from animals that we can’t hunt here. That smell? Those omelets on the trolley are cooked with bacon from a non-sentient pig.” Grif smiled. “Overfed all it’s life, the fat was practically melting off of it when I cooked it.”
“And how do you know they weren’t sentient?” Shrial asked as she folded her arms warily.
“Because I researched it,” Grif told her. “Technology is much more advanced there. Science rules, and there is little to no magic around to sustain nearly as many sentients on their planet as there are in this one. Most farm animals posses less intellectual capacity than a common dog.”
Avalon had inched her way over to the trays as her stomach rumbled. “... You’re sure?”
“Cross my heart hope to fly, stick a cupcake in my eye,” Grif said, parroting the motions of the most sacred of oaths. A collective shudder ran through the room.
“What was that?” Avalon gasped.
“That was probably Pinkie Pie taking note of the promise,” Grif explained. “No one breaks a Pinkie Promise. Well, no one wise anyway.”
“That felt like a pact with the Winds.” Avalon shuddered again. “Just what is she?”
“Jury is still out on that,” Grif said as he retrieved a cloak from his pack and proceeded to fasten it. “Now eat up. Today we spend the entire day together, just the three of us, and I’ve heard from Vital Spark that the market has almost everything from across Equis. Let’s spend some money frivolously. What do you say?” Grif asked them.
“First we eat. Then we shop,” Shrial said assertively. Avalon had already begun on her first slice of bacon.
Pensword and Lunar Fang slowly stepped hoof by hoof towards the door, both of them worried about what they might find. They knew that she would forgive them, and all would go back to right in her world, but still.... Lunar Fang nodded her head and pensword put a hoof out and pushed down on the handle. After feeling the latch click he pushed the door forward and stepped into the room and looked around, curious to see what Cadence, Shining, and Fox Feather had done with Moon River while they were away.
They found Moon River and Fox Feather napping serenely on the rug in the center of the room. The little filly had her forelegs draped across Fox Feather’s barrel with her head slumped in the direction of the door. Her crossbow lay on the floor by Fox Feather’s stomach, making it clear the couple had narrowly avoided an ambush.
Pensword smiled widely. He looked to Lunar Fang with a gleam in his eyes. They shared a slight conversation with a series of body signals. Theen they circled around and stood over the two would-be-ambushers before they collapsed onto the rug, pressing up against the two bodies and creating a larger pile. Pensword was next to Fox Feather and Lunar Fang close to Moon River. They nuzzled the two. Ever so slowly, Moon River stirred. Fox Feather’s eyes snapped open, only to find herself in Pensword’s warm embrace.
“I’d better,” she began, only to freeze at the piercing eyes of Lunar Fang glaring at her. She eeped as she slumped to the ground. “Why?” She asked.
“Because,” Lunar Fang began. “I consider you Pensword’s war bride. You were by his side when I couldn’t be. You fought and saw him growing up better than I.” She smiled as she closed her eyes halfway, making her look surprisingly creepy. “We talked, and we think that before we leave the Empire, we’ll be bringing you into our herd. Moon River likes you, and it certainly looks like you helped grow her trophies. Not to mention you can handle Moon River’s love of her crossbow far better than anypony else.” She smirked.
Their talking was shushed as Moon River finally finished waking. She snuggled into Lunar Fang’s side. “Mommy warm. Miss red mommy.” Pensword was floored. It was babble, he was sure of it, but he was positive at this exact moment he knew just what his daughter was trying to say. He smiled as he prodded Fox Feather with his own wings to have her move next to Moon River.
The last words of that night in the room were from Lunar Fang. “Besides, who else would preen his wings in the field of battle, predict his moods, and anticipate when he’s about to do something incredibly stupid?” Lunar Fang grinned. “Fox Feather, usually in a hunt, a Thestral always gets what she wants.” She turned her eyes to Pensword, who had dropped off like a rock in the last minute. “I just never thought I could get him like I did.” She yawned. “Curse him and his adorable form. I need to recalibrate to the night again. Tomorrow, you shall inform us of our daughter’s exploits.”
Fox Feather nodded, the faintest trace of a smile tugging at her lips. “Yes, ma’am.”
Vital Spark sighed as he flipped through yet another page in the large tome he’d received from Starswirl’s lab. “You know, Starswirl, I know I’m a bit of an idiot when it comes to magic, but you really don’t have to be so snarky over it. I wasn’t always a Unicorn, you know.” He rolled his eyes and snorted angrily. “Not that you can actually hear me.”
“It was a different time,” Twilight’s voice spoke up defensively as she entered the room. “Ponies were much harder back then.”
“Even after harmony was established and Equestria was founded?”
“He was over five hundred years old at the time. When I get to be that old, I hope people will be able to put up with my old fashioned habits.”
“I’m pretty sure you’ll be able to adapt, Twilight. You won’t have to worry about your body getting crippled with age to make you cranky. You’re pretty much a major voice for harmony. People couldn’t hate you if they tried.”
“Trixie seemed to think otherwise. Sunset Shimmer wasn’t exactly my biggest fan either,” Twilight pointed out.
“The first was a matter of stupid pride getting in the way. The second was a matter of misplaced aggression. As far as I’m aware, no normal Pony would want to hate you. Not unless you gave them a good reason to, anyways.”
“Concerns for the future aside, how goes the studying?” Twilight asked him.
“It’s coming … slowly. I’m … more than a little hesitant about this, Twilight. Back home, magic was something evil. To use it, you had to draw on spirits that could potentially do terrible things to you or those close to you in exchange, even let them take control of you. I was trained to stay away from it and avoid it at all costs. Now I find myself with no choice but to use it in order to defend myself, not to mention protect people from me. How did you do it? It must have been so much harder for you to control after your cutiemark manifested. I … I don’t want to hurt anyone else.”
Twilight came and sat down next to Vital, placing a supporting hoof around his shoulder. “You know, that might be the wrong way of looking at it. Rarity once told me that Grif’s been teaching her the hardest part about using a weapon is controlling it. Do you believe that?”
“I suppose,” Vital said after a time.
“And in some cases, a weapon is most dangerous in the hooves of those who don’t know what they're doing. Being Unicorns, we’re given a special burden. We’re given a great tool, but while it is great for research, study, and other necessities, it also doubles as a destructive weapon. If left uncontrolled, there’s no telling what we can destroy with it.” She tapped her horn.
“Is that why you’re afraid to try using Alicorn magic?”
“I guess it is.” Twilight nodded. “And it’s something I’m working to overcome. But at least my Alicorn magic doesn’t surge like my Unicorn magic did when I was a foal. If you don’t learn to control your magic, you’re going to start surging again, and it’ll probably get worse.”
“... I know.” Tears trickled down his fur. “It’s just … I made a promise, Twilight, a covenant. Now I find I have to break it if I don’t want to hurt anyone else. I’ve already used magic a few times, but only when I felt like it was the only choice, or when I felt like it would burst out of me otherwise, and I felt terrible afterwards when I had time to think about it. Is this really my only choice?”
“I’m not sure what to tell you, Vital Spark.” Twilight shook her head. “I can only offer advice from my perspective. Have you talked to one of the others yet? Surely Grif or Pensword must know how you feel.”
“Pensword might. He has Matthew’s memories, after all, and Matthew and I shared the same beliefs before all of this happened.” He sniffled and ran a foreleg over his nose.
“Then maybe you should start there. Until you can come to some sort of terms, you're going to slow yourself down with magic. No teacher can help you if you’re not willing to help yourself.”
Vital smiled weakly. “Thanks, Twilight. Do you know if Pensword is up yet? I heard he was trying to get back into a nocturnal sleep schedule again.”
“Sorry, I’m not sure,” Twilight said. “You going to be okay?”
Vital was quiet for a good while, then he chuckled. “You know, Twilight, I honestly don’t know. A lot’s happened, and a lot more is going to happen, and here I am still struggling to deal with being a Unicorn and a Human all wrapped into one.” He shook his head and smiled ruefully. “I’ll figure something out. But I’d appreciate it if you could keep me in your prayers while I do.”
“I will.” Twilight offered him a reassuring hug before turning and leaving the room.
Pensword walked the halls of the crystal palace with Lunar Fang and Fox Feather. Moon River, who was holding a tiny plush sword, sat on her mother’s back. Having been told that the sword she clutched was a safe choice, and been given at least a dozen assurances that no mean stallions might take her crossbow with everyone to guard it, the weapon in question had been stowed away in Pensword’s saddlebags. Moon River squealed in delight, burbling a stream of words as her ears twitched. “Perch. Perch. Perch!” The familiar sound of two footsteps echoed down the crystal halls one after the other as Conor came into view. He smiled kindly at the foal.
“Hello, little one. And how’s my niece faring today?” Conor extended a finger and rubbed it under her chin.
“Careful,” Pensword warned, but it was too late. Moon River jerked and gave Conor a love nip. A solid red line ran across his fingertip, though she had been careful not to use her fangs, so she hadn’t drawn any blood. Pensword sighed and shook his head before carrying on. “So. how are you doing? The girls and I were just about to head out for a night on the town. Would you care to join us for dinner?”
Conor held his smile and shook his head. “No, that’s alright. You guys enjoy your family time. But when you get back, Pensword, could you meet me in my room? There’s something I need to talk with you about alone.”
Lunar Fang looked pensively at Conor, then turned to her husband. “We’ll catch you up later. We might use this time to plan a few special treats.” She smiled mischievously at him.
Pensword noded. “Okay. “Let’s find an empty room. Something in your tone makes it sound like it is important. Also, we are Thestrals, we do the late night all nights. Do not worry about it. If you want to believe some scholars, we invented the all nighter.”
“Pensword, I don’t want to keep you from your family. This could take hours.”
Lunar Fang giggled. “Perfect. Fox Feather and I can plan her dress and colors for the wedding. After all, we have a lot of planning to take care of. Take as long as you need.”
Pensword nodded in approval. “Right. Now this way, and we shall take care of this.”
The pair were soon back in Conor’s living quarters. A very large and familiar leatherbound book sat next to the much larger tome Starswirl’s spell had hurled at Vital Spark just a little over a week ago. Conor walked to the table and picked the old book up. Its gold-embossed pages and simple black tabs brought many memories back for the battleworn commander. In a sudden flash of inspiration as bright as Celestia’s sun, he knew what his friend wanted to discuss. Conor twisted the diamond on his arm band and Pensword stood face to face with Vital Spark. The book was being cradled against the Unicorn’s chest with a gentle foreleg.
“I’m not exactly sure how to begin with this,” Vital said as he looked down at the book both Ponies had held so dearly in their lives. “I, well, I wanted to ask you about you. You, and magic.” The Unicorn’s eyes had already begun to water as he struggled to maintain his composure.
“Yes?” The brusqueness and formality that was Pensword’s speech was gone. In its place, a familiar voice had emerged, one that wished only to listen, discuss, and learn. “What about it?” Matthew sat down on his hindquarters and stared at the ceiling. “Magic is as much a part of this world as quantum mechanics and wormhole theories, or the hubble telescope, or using a full computer on a small phone was in ours.” He smiled. “It’s a force of nature given to this world to control and shape it. It is literally what keeps this world moving forward. Does that sound evil to you?”
“I know, Vulpix. I know the theory. I know what the books say. I just … I can’t help but feel terrible about this.” As Vital bowed his head, his horn glowed dimly and a few pieces of stray parchment began to levitate around him.
“Why?” Pensword looked consolingly at his friend and shook his head. “You’re overcomplicating it, Omni. You’re here. If you weren’t meant to be here, it wouldn’t have happened. You and I both believe that. You’re here, and you’re a Unicorn. If you weren’t meant to use magic, you would have been something else. You were given the power to manipulate the very fabric of this world. In moments like this, you need to just step into the dark and trust.”
“But what if I can’t? What if it’s wrong? What if this is a test and I fail? I can’t do that, Vulpix. I can’t.”
“What if, what if, what if.” Matthew shook his head in disbelief. “So your test is to be in the same boat as you friends, have the same problems, and face the same present, yet you have a different test? I find that very, very hard to believe, Omni.” He closed his eyes. “Frankly, I think it’s more a means of getting a small part of your dream. I can fly, I’m strong, and I don’t have to worry about my health with these.” He spread his wings.
“You have the means to protect friends, project your will on a pen and paper, and write as the thoughts come to your head because the quill will respond to your thoughts. You have the challenges that come with that form, too. This could very well be a blessing in disguise.” His face clouded. “If I was not adopted by the parents I had back then, I doubt I would be as together as I am right now after going through everything. Back home, you used to talk about going through your own personal Gethsemane. Here, I’ve gone through my own personal Tartarus. This isn’t meant to be a burden or a curse. This is a gift. You can still turn human and back. If Equestria had had her way with you, you would be stuck a Unicorn your entire life. Now the choice is yours. Like it or not, being a Unicorn is a part of your nature now. The way I see it, you have two choices. You can choose to accept this, or you can hide away as a human for the rest of your life and still have a magic of sorts surrounding you anyways.”
The tears streamed freely down Vital’s muzzle. “... How did you cope with all this?”
“I have my own ways. I have good friends, and I have those that I can go to for advice and help. I found love, I got married, and now I’m a father raising a daughter.” He sighed. “But It also helps that we were taught to pursue knowledge, take from all the good books, and use wisdom to apply what we learn. To you, what you have on your head is as dangerous as man found the atom to be. It can be as productive as a power plant or as destructive as a bomb. Basically, it’s what you use it for that matters. In this world, magic is a tool, nothing more, and nothing less. It’s just like a rifle or a … flying machine. What you choose to use it for, that’s the real test.” He sighed. “Pensword wants me to tell you that he has a Thestral gift that gives a bit of a peek of what others think who we don’t normally don’t get to talk to.” He grimaced at Vital’s inquisitive look. “Fine, fine.” He cast his eyes heavenward and threw his hooves into the air. “I talk to dead Ponies, okay? I can talk to the spirits of the dead.” His expression had suddenly become tense.
“So you can see through the veil?” Vital smirked. “I have to admit, I’m a little jealous.” Then he chuckled. It was weak, but it was there. He sighed. “I’ve basically had two sides warring in me for weeks over this, Vulpix, and I can’t afford to keep this up anymore. If I do, it’ll destroy me.” He shook his head, clopped over to the desk, and placed the book again. With an assertion of his will, he managed to return the parchments to where they belonged and stem the glow from his horn. “Thanks for the talk, Vulpix. If you don’t mind, I’d like to be alone for a while. I have some serious thinking to do.”
“If that came from any other Pony, I would post a suicide watch over their door.” His face softened. “But from you, I’ll leave you be. I still expect to see you up and about tomorrow for breakfast, though.”
Vital Spark broke into a fit of laughter. “I’ll be there, Vulpix. Don’t worry.”
“Hammer Strike?” Grif called as he entered the small smithy that had been set aside for the Pony lord.
“Yeah?” Hammer responded. He was sitting at one of the side tables, a cup in hoof.
“Well, first time in a while I’ve caught you relaxing.” He chuckled. “Been quite a week, huh?”
“You could say that again. Third world on the list now, and here I thought two was going to be the limit.” He took a deep swig.
“You know, sometimes I find myself a little surprised. Where we are, what we’ve been through, that all of us are still alive. It’s a lot to take in, you know?”
“It’s a miracle we’re still alive, honestly.” Hammer gave a small laugh. “To be honest, by most standards I should have died after the three story drop, or whatever it was.” He shook his head with a disbelieving smile. “Guess I’ve always been stubborn.”
“Well, you did beat up the grim reaper pretty badly.” Grif laughed. “Maybe that's why we keep defying the odds?”
“Trust me, he still tries for all of us. I’m not the one stopping him ... most of the time.”
“Still pretty wild, huh? We’ve been in three wars, a bunch of smaller battles, made fortunes, lost them, made larger ones. I mean, this kind of stuff doesn’t happen in real life, so how did we end up here?”
“Through something we thought to be fiction, something that now has bound itself to us. It’s our little gift that keeps us going through it all.”
“Well I suppose if I was going to be stranded on a fictional world, made to fight for my life, sent back in time with no memories, had them restored, and then end up here with anyone, it would be you guys. Sometimes I catch myself thinking, ‘What could possibly be next?’ you know?”
“In a place like this? Anything can happen next, and I guess that’s the thrill of it. Who knows what will come tomorrow?” Hammer Strike took another drink, then looked pensively into his mug.
“So you and Rarity, huh?” Grif smiled. “How long are you going to make her wait?”
“Honestly? I was going to propose while we were here, but the whole trip to the other world got in the way. Doesn’t help that we’re leaving soon. I do have a plan for when we get back...”
“Word from the not-so-wise,” Grif chuckled. “Don’t wait too long. The moment may come and go, and it can be hard to find another one.”
“Don’t worry. Like I said, I’ve got a plan.”
“I forgot. More contingencies than Batman, huh?” Grif laughed. “Honest question. If you could go back, I mean go back and stay, would you?”
“To Earth? No. I gave up on going a long time ago.”
Grif nodded respectfully. “I can understand that. There are things I miss, people I miss, but there are things here that I couldn’t live without.”
“Yeah, I know what you mean.” The corners of his lips twitched ever so slightly.
“It’s been awhile since we’ve just sat and talked, you know?”
“Not much time between everything to do it. That, and my antisocial ways.”
“You’re not antisocial. You’re just not interested in conversations not worth your time. I appreciate that we’re still close enough friends that I’m worth talking to.”
“I’d never let that change.”
“So very soon we’ll have been here a year. Well technically it’s been longer, but I mean it will mark a year in this time period. We need to mark the day, even if we just meet up and do stuff together. We need to remember the day we came here.”
“I wouldn’t plan on doing much. I can bet that something will happen on that day.”
“True. Murphy does seem to hate us, doesn’t he?” Grif chuckled before getting to his feet again. “Good talk. Unfortunately, I’ve got a few things to take care of before we leave, so I’m going to head out. See you later, okay?”
“See you later.”
“Ach, did they say when they’d be back? It’s been forever already, and it’s so quiet I have to drink more to keep from hearin’ myself think,” Demolition Grenado grumbled as he sat at the gate house.
“They’ll get here when they get here, Grenado. You just have to wait.” Big Guns snorted frustratedly as he knocked the stone of his warhammer on the parapet and rested his hands on its pommel. “Besides, Hammer Strike already gave you permission to blow stuff up for your experiments. Why don’t you use a manticore for target practice?”
“Ya think I haven’t tried? Third one in, the demon bunnai comes, and we all know the trouble that one causes.”
“Maybe we should have some target practice, then? Big Guns has been wanting to work on his swing,” he said meaningfully as he motioned towards his hammer.
“Shouldn’t ya be askin’ the Heavies about that?” Grenado raised an eyebrow.
“It’s more fun to hit targets with exploding barrels. Heavies don’t know how to do that. Only you do. You bring the boom, BIg Guns brings the stick.”
“I like your way of thinking, mah friend.” Demolition Grenado laughed. “Charge! Get the barrels ready! We’re gonna have us some fun!”
Big Guns smirked. “Make sure they’re flashy!” Then he leaned down and whispered to his hammer. “Ready for some fun?” The hammer glowed a smoldering red tinged with gold. “Good. Big Guns can’t wait.”
“Which barrels are ye callin’ for?” Charge questioned.
“The ones that explode,” Grenado shouted, “and one full of ale!”
“Just one?”
“Yur right, better make it four.” Grenado chuckled. “Oh, and some of the watered down stuff for the light weight,” he said, jerking a meaningful hoof back at Big Guns.
“Are you challenging Big Guns?” the Minotaur asked, his eyes narrowing as he brought his face down to the Ponies’ level.
“For it to be a challenge, lad, you’d need to have a chance in the first place.”
“It … is … on!” The minotaur’s eyes bulged angrily as he accented each word with a snort.
Grenado shook his head. “We tried to warn him, Charge.”
“Poor lad…”
“Well, that had to be one of the absolute longest train rides I have ever been on. Seriously, who's idea was it to herd a bunch of wild sheep in front of the steam engine?” Conor asked. He groaned and stretched onto the platform, holding the door open for the others. As a matter of courtesy, Avalon and Shrial were the first to be let off, followed by Lunar Fang, Fox Feather, and Moon River. Lastly, Hammer Strike, Pensword, and Grif stepped off, each with a look of relief on their faces to finally be home. The Princess Summit had gone off without a hitch, and Twilight, while nervous, had managed to slide fairly well into her role. The princesses had had such a great time together, they felt it was best if they were to return to Canterlot via the royal cart. Naturally, the rest of the Mane Six followed. They’d probably be back in about a day or so.
Pensword laughed. “At least it wasn’t Buffalo,” he said in Draconic. He promptly switched to Equestrian. “So.” He looked around the train station with a happy sigh. “Home. Oh, it is so good to be home.” He laughed as he looked to Lunar Fang. They had kept their news of what happened during the human trip under wraps. They didn’t want too much fuss over the wedding, and besides, they had to wait for Rarity to get back to make Fox Feather her dress. “Ponyville feels like home.”
“Yeah.” Grif smiled, stretching his wings. “It’ll be good to get back to business.”
“Certainly will be,” Hammer Strike agreed.
“Really? I figured you’d have a little more than business on your mind.” Grif chuckled.
“Grif, shush,” Hammer Strike whispered flatly.
“Business? What kind of business?” Conor asked.
“Not my place to say,” Pensword said, effectively cutting off the path of inquiry. “I have a few things to take care of. Heavens of Celestia and Luna knows I will have letters and papers from the nobles for me to go over from vacation. I have to be ready for the troops to return, and a few other things need to be planned besides.” He allowed his gaze to wander briefly towards Fox Feather.
“Sorry, Hammer Strike. Sometimes our husband doesn't know when to keep his giant beak shut,” Shrial said as she took Grif by his arm. Avalon flanked him on the other side while Snowy dug her talons ever so slightly into Grif’s shoulder.
“Anyway, once I get you three back to unity–” Grif smiled at snowy. “–You’re going to have to try harder than that to make me feel it, by the way.” He turned his head back to the others. “I have a meeting with Me-Me to get to.”
“Say hello for me,” Pensword said. “I’ll stop by later.”
“I guess I’ll just get to work on packing. We’re supposed to be leaving for Earth soon, aren’t we?” Conor sighed.
Pensword froze as his ears twitched and he turned his head around to look at him with the flexibility of the equine neck. “Do you know something we do not know? Because last time I heard, that is almost impossible. We have no means to even find it, let alone visit.”
“Yes, I’d rather like to know that myself,” a familiar voice chuckled from above as Discord descended, clinging to an umbrella with his taloned hand. “Ah, my dear boy, it’s been far too long since our last meeting. When was it, a couple thousand years ago?”
“When you pulled me from my home? Approximately,” Conor answered. His face had become flat, his tone forcefully neutral.
Pensword glared, his eye twitching at the familiarity of the Draconequus’ entrance. But he kept his mouth shut.
“I can’t even begin to tell you how sorry I am about the mixup. I really was such a naughty thing back then. I simply must assure you, it was a phase, nothing more. We beings of chaos have a tendency to go through them, you know, being random and all that.” He smirked as he popped up behind the human and laid his taloned hand and lion paw on either shoulder. “Do you think you could ever forgive me?” he asked, clasping his hand and paw together as he widened his eyes to look as cute as a newborn foal’s. As an added touch, a glowing halo hovered between his two horns.
Something whizzed past Discord’s head, catching the halo and pulling it along until the throwing blade embedded in a nearby tree. “Yeah, no,” Grif said.
“Oh, come now, Grif. You absolutely ruined a perfectly good apology. And besides that, you nearly cut your friend’s hair, among other things.” He tsked, wagging a finger. “Bad form, Grif. Bad form.”
“You’re not captain hook,” Grif said.
“On the contrary, I can be whoever I want.” In a flash of light, Discord stood in a perfectly crafted red coat and pirate hat with a hook prop on his taloned hand. Immediately, Gummy proceeded to smack Discord in the face. The toothless alligator savagely mauled the draconequus in his own fashion, that is to say, by gnawing at him with his toothless gums. A pocketwatch had been tied to his tail.
Pensword found himself on the ground rolling in laughter. He was sure that somewhere, he could hear Pinkie Pie’s laughter passing on the wind. He just couldn’t stop as his mate and future mate looked in confusion. “What?” Fox Feather asked. “Lunar Fang, is this some form of humor only the other one can understand?” she asked, referring to Matthew’s mind.
Discord promptly tore Gummy off of his face, looked at him distastefully and tossed him into a portal he’d created in the air before shifting back to his normal self. “Oh, don’t worry, I sent him back to his peppy pink owner. Spoil sports.” He frowned. “Anyways, back to the main point. How did you know I was coming with the big news?”
Conor shrugged offhandedly. “A prophecy cast with Dragon bones. You and the mare might be acquainted. Have you ever heard of Angela the Witch and her feline companion, Solembum?”
Discord frowned. “Those always take the fun out of surprises. But how did you–?” He suddenly stiffened, his eyes shifting nervously. “She isn’t coming here, is she?” He shuddered.
“Why, Discord,” Grif smiled unsettlingly, “if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were afraid of this Angela.” He practically purred in delight.
“Me? Afraid?” Discord scoffed. “I only fear the Elements and how they seem to always love giving me a stony complexion. Honestly, it took me weeks to get all that rubble out of my fur and scales.”
“Oh, that’s good then, because I hear she was headed out this way for the winter.” Grif winked at Conor.
Discord squinted as he looked at Grif before pulling out a large cartoonish pocket watch. “Well, so sorry to cut this little meeting short, but I think I have to water my snapping weeds. They get cranky if I don’t feed them cotton balls from Celestia’s cupboard. Besides, it gives me a chance to enjoy some of her chocolate cake.” He smirked in Grif’s direction. “Also, please tell Fluttershy I’ll be hosting our usual tea party at my place this week.” He promptly reached into thin air with his tail as his tassel turned into a white furry hand. It grabbed at the thin air and twisted it like a doorknob, revealing a swirling vortex of chaos. “Pleasure seeing you again, uhhh … whoever you are. I’ll get your name next time we chat, once Hammer Strike gets back from his next trip. Arrivederci!” And with a loud slam, Discord was gone as fast as he had come.
“... Wow, never thought I’d see Discord actually acting scared. Well, aside from Shawn’s threats, I mean,” Conor said.
“Agreed. Now… shall we get home?” Pensword asked. “Before we are stopped by anything else?”
A loud detonation rumbled through the air followed by a bright flash of light. A few seconds later, another detonation rumbled.
“You said something, so there is the response to it,” Hammer Strike commented.
“Welcome to Equestria, where every time you say something the wrong way, Murphy instantly takes control and complicates stuff.” Conor chuckled and shook his head. “Shall we, gentlemen?”
“I’m going to guess the Demos got bored,” Grif said. “And judging by the distance some of those explosions are getting, Big Guns did, too.”
“That, or they’re using a trebuchet. Either way, I can’t wait to get back. I want to see the Demos at work. Let’s go.” Conor grinned as he made his way off the platform.
“Ah, back to normal,” Pensword said happily as he followed, Lunar Fang and Fox Feather in either wing. The others just shrugged and walked after him. It was just another day in Ponyville.
The courtyard of New Unity was torn apart when the returning heroes arrived. Large areas of scorched grass or exposed ground laid haphazardly over the visual range. A few of the stones from the wall where scorched or damaged. Several large empty barrels and a few empty tankards lay near the east wall, along with a familiar passed out Minotaur with black fur and a red rooty mane. The sight had surprised them when they arrived, but the group seemed to have lost the novelty of that particular detail, except for Moon River, who was happily drawing on his face with a piece of charcoal she had mysteriously acquired from parts unknown. Of course, by parts unknown, it clearly meant Grif.
Pensword looked around the courtyard. “Well, we were planning on digging and flattening the ground here.” He paused at seeing Moon River. “Where…? Grif, she is not a Jigglypuff!”
Lunar Fang looked around with concern. “Demo!” She barked. “Front and Center. I want to know where the Thestrals are. They were supposed to be staying near here. Tell me where the Dream Clan is!”
“Ach! Will ye stop with the shoutin’?” Demolition Grenado groaned as he and Demolition Charge stumbled haphazardly out of the gatehouse and over to stand in front of the livid Thestral.
“Well, I wouldn’t shout if one of you were at least sitting next to your barrels so we can see you,” she shot back. “My question still stands. Where is the Dream Clan? I was hoping Moon River’s little troop would be here to greet her,” she replied with a fang-filled grin.
“Train from Ys got delayed. Somethin’ about a crisis up north. They never made it back from there yet to be campin’ out near Ponyville in the first place,” Grenado said. “Weren’t you in the north?”
“How did …? Oh, right. Your clan’s got those special gifts,” Conor said, sighing. “We should probably send them a message so they can get back here as soon as they can.”
“So, the land’s torn up and the place smells like booze and gunpowder. I take it you three had some fun?” Grif asked
“Just a wee bit,” Grenado said.
“The lad should be happy. He got through a whole barrel in under an hour,” Charge mentioned.
“Huh. I didn’t know the big guy drank. Didn’t he say he used to be deformed before he changed species?” Conor asked.
Big Guns let out a loud belch and turned onto his side before he resumed snoring.
“Yes, but Minotaurs do it all the time. If they’re not constantly chopping each other to bits, they’re trying to prove each other’s dominance one way or the other. It looks like Big Guns picked up that trait,” Thalia said, winging gracefully down from above.
“Hello, sister.” Grif smiled “Did you and Mother enjoy your trip to Manehattan?”
Thalia shrugged. “Honestly, it was noisy, slow, and they tried to give us a ticket just for landing without a permit. That city’s full of bigger windbags than the empire was, and more rules than any sensible person could ever keep track of.”
“I didn’t want to spoil your excitement. Did you two at least manage to see the sights she wanted?”
“Oh yes. Broad Hoof Way, the Statue of Harmony, Far East Town, Little Bitaly, and anywhere else. The prices were ridiculous, but it was worth it to see Mother smile.” Thalia inclined her head in acknowledgement of the other adventurers. “I take it you all had some fun on your ends, too, judging by your appearance.”
“Oh, you know, your classic stuff: spending time with friends and family, shopping, stopping Celestia’s evil ex student from using the element of magic to destroy two worlds. Just your average run-of-the-mill vacation.” He chuckled.
“Only you three could manage to go on a vacation and still wind up having to save the world.” She rolled her eyes. “I honestly don’t get why Celestia even bothers.”
“Not my job.” Grif’s smile turned to a mischievous grin. “My job is to get paid for being the necessary muscle, and to make sure our entire family is safe. Speaking of which, has everyone returned from spending their vacation money yet? It’s almost time to dedicate the compound, after all.”
“Pretty much. We’ve still got one or two stragglers, but they should be back on the next day or so.” Thalia shrugged.
“Good.” Grif nodded. “I want to have a roof ready for three special little heads later this year.” He winked at Thalia. “How is everyone? Supplies? weapons? meat? Anything lacking, or any major emergencies?”
“Nope. Things have been pretty quiet, but then again, Tuesday is just around the corner.”
“Okay, can you see that these two take it easy?” Grif gestured to Shrial and Avalon. “I need to see a Changeling queen about a desk.”
Thalia shrugged. She knew it was better not to ask. “Sure. The nest’s all ready for them when they are.”
“What do we do about Big Guns?” Conor asked as he looked on the recumbent form of the Minotaur.
“Never wake a sleeping Minotaur,” Grif warned as he recalled certain of his mercenaries from his days in the war. “Let him sleep.”
“Agreed,” Pensword said. “Still, when he is waking up, make sure you have a target he can charge if he gets cranky.” He frowned. “The Demon Slayers should be back on base tomorrow.” He sighed. “Lunar Fang, I am looking forward to getting my military family back.”
“... If you say so,” Conor said, letting out a heavy sigh. “Charge, Grenado, can you guys keep an eye on him till he wakes up? I think he and I need to have a little conversation once he’s sober.” He looked almost pityingly at the creature.
“Right. Come here, Moon River. We are going back to our rooms, and when we do…” He turned to face the steamer trunk marked just for the little foal. Where some parents would be aghast at the toys that their children might have gotten, to the two Thestrals, Moon River had started her trophy collection just a little early. True, they weren’t technically prey, but each item had been won by their daughter fair and square. So, instead of boar heads and fox pelts, her part of the room would be covered in stuffed animals and plush toys. Pensword winced as he felt his daughter nibble on one of his ears. “Um, Lunar Fang, I think it’s time for one of those new teething rings we talked about. Moon River’s starting to get a little too sharp for comfort.”
Moon River raised her head, sniffed daintily in disdain, and then promptly returned to nibbling her father’s ear.
Extended Holiday Ch 84: Good Evening, Commander! Act 11
Grif looked carefully over his new desk. On the outside it appeared to be made of some unidentifiable black material. It was in fact, compounded chitinous plates, but it would be hard for someone ignorant of this fact to know this considering how smoothly the joining plates had been buffed. The desk took up nearly a quarter of the room, being three and a half feet in height, seven feet in breadth, and four feet in width. “How’d you get it up here without the sentries seeing it?” Grif asked the other occupant of the room.
Me-Me stood looking pensively back at the Gryphon. “My children moved it piece by piece and assembled it here, mostly under cover of night. I think sectioning off the engineers’ hive mind was definitely for the best. The plans seemed very complex.”
Grif laughed. Over the past months and numerous long visits, Grif and Me-Me had been working very thoroughly on plans for different breeds of Changelings to fill different jobs. The engineers had been found to be ridiculously skilled at large complex projects due to the inner workings of the hive mind. “So walk me through this.”
“If you open the first drawer, you will see three embedded crystals: one blue, one green, and one red. Each will bring up the different types of communication crystals we’ve worked into the spell matrix.” Me-Me tapped the blue crystal with her hoof, causing eight slots to open simultaneously. From these slots, eight crystal lenses rose, each with a different symbol beneath them to tell Grif who was on the other end. Me-Me tapped the green crystal next, and the blue lenses descended to be replaced by three larger green crystal lenses. “These are the hive crystals we managed to create from adapting the communication crystals you acquired for us from the Crystal Empire. The brain trust is a little wordy about what they do, but as I understand it, they will allow you to communicate with our hive mind without needing a direct connection.”
“And the red?” Grif asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Releases a high intensity acid that will render all the internal workings to sludge in eight seconds. You did request some form of security after all.”
“Good. And how are our other preparations going?”
“The special ‘lings we worked on finished incubation and training while you were gone. They will be arriving at their branches within the next week. We have also deployed ‘lings to the other areas you requested with six drones to a soldier and enough crystallized love to ration for a month. I admit I’m still a little shocked you and I are doing this. It seems too close to what Mother would have done.”
“It’s not infiltration, Me-Me. Just protection. We’ll show Equestria what you’re worth, even if it has to be a Pony at a time. Is there anything else I should know?”
“Not at present. I’ll keep you informed when I get back to the hive.”
Grif nodded as he moved over to Me-Me and gave her a hug. When the two separated, the Changeling queen left. Words were unnecessary. A plan had just been set in motion for the betterment of both species.
Shawn sighed to himself as he scratched his chin. Muttering about shaving as he continued drawing some design that came to mind for him. He did his best to make it plausible. He sighed again as he heard a familiar chirp from his side. Renatti stood on his shoulder looking to the design before shaking his head. “Yeah, I know. I need to figure out a proper mechanism for the chest piece. Other than that, this could be an interesting design for armor.”
The phoenix casually looked over the design with emotional detachment before pecking the pauldron joints and shaking his head.
“The pauldrons are fine, just different from what everyone makes. The chestplate is also different, considering it’s more adjustable than ordinary plates to keep with more flexible users.”
Renati rolled his eyes and shrugged as if to say let him figure it out for himself.
“I know you’ve seen plenty of sets of armor, but this isn’t like any design I’ve seen on Equis. I know you’re trying to tell me to use the same mechanism as the pauldrons, but the chest piece is going to use interlocking plates with central joints, while the pauldrons use segmented plates combined on an overall frame,” he said, pointing to different parts as he mentioned them.
A timid knock sounded at the door. “Shawn? Can I come in?”
“Go for it. Not working on much,” he replied, holding up a chunk of coal for Renati to eat.
Conor stepped casually in. “I felt like I should stop by, seeing as, well, you know.”
“No I don’t. Mind explaining? I’ve been pretty busy.”
“Well there’s not that much time left for us to just hang out. I wanted to make some memories that didn’t involve saving the world every other day. Is … is that okay?”
“Conor, you’re acting like I wouldn’t want to hang out and do stuff with you. I know I’m typically busy, but I can always take time to have conversations or do stuff.”
“Sorry. I guess I’m just … edgy lately. I’ve had a lot on my mind and a lot more to think about.”
“Any of it you want to talk about?”
“Don’t know. It’s mostly to do with the whole magic thing. It’s so different than I thought it would be. People here use it just like we do a knife or a gun back home. It’s … strange for me.”
Shawn laughed for a moment. “If that’s what you’re worried about, I have good news for you. I just discovered something earlier, and you’ll be the first to hear it.”
“Yeah?”
“Thaumaturgy isn’t magic,” Shawn said simply as he leaned back into his chair.
“... How did Renati manage to hold onto you while you did that?”
“By shifting himself as I leaned.”
“Weird. It doesn’t look like he moved.” Conor shrugged. “So if thaumaturgy isn’t magic, then what is it? Didn’t you guys say that Celestia called thaumaturgy a magical field?”
“She explained it as a field of energy, which is what it is. Thaumaturgy is control over a field of energy that exists as all matter around us. They are all different frequencies to make up the basic structure and materials around us. It’s why I get such a backlash when I try to use it like magic; I’ve been combining it together from the start by thought.”
“So you’ve been using it the wrong way basically?”
“We all have. Didn’t help that this was explained later in the book,” Shawn muttered as he pulled said book out from his coat for a moment before putting it back in. “With this knowledge I think I can do a lot more now. That’s why it felt so odd using it whenever I tried to alter something or view the magic around us. You haven’t really done much with it, and you still shouldn’t, but it’s still interesting knowledge to know.”
“So pretty much it literally gives you the power to freely manipulate matter and it acts as a booster for magic casters?
“In a way, yes on the question of messing with matter. As for the booster to magic, definitely yes.”
“But they can’t be combined easily? It just sort of acts on its own for those things?”
“To make a fire with thaumic power, to put it into numbers, would take five units of power. To make the same thing with magic would take over ten. The field around us is trying to replicate the field of magic in our environment from what we’ve seen.”
“And that’s how it manages to double your magic potential and/or halve the cost?”
“Yes. Maybe even more past that.”
“So what happens if we stop thinking of it as magic, then?”
“Less danger, less backlash, and be able to do a lot more for a lot longer.”
“Well that’s good to know, even if I’ll never use it.”
“You’ve been using it. Or in a way, it’s been working for you.”
“I mean actively. You told me not to, so I haven’t tried.”
“Honestly…” Shawn paused as he hummed for a moment. “You can use it a bit. Not too much, but enough to have some fun while you’re around.”
“From what I’ve seen, thaumaturgy isn’t exactly something you should have some fun with. Isn’t there the whole risk of blowing yourself up or worse? You seemed to make some pretty emphatic notes on that.”
“It can be fun if you mess with it correctly. The chance of self harm is actually decreased with this knowledge because the primary form of backlash from it was magical backlash.”
“You know, you never told me what my aspects were. I remember you taking some from me, but that’s about it.”
“Peridito, and Ordo. Perditio from Discord, no doubt, but Ordo… That came from your friend who you’re hiding from me.”
“I was wondering when you’d bring that up.”
“I was wondering if you’d ever tell me. Grif and Pensword can’t make that strong of a shard of order. The aspect is hard to form and create, even by transfusion.”
“I don’t even know how much I’d actually be able to say before I’m blocked, honestly.”
“I saw that strand on you.” Shawn’s eyes burst with blue fire. “Still can, even. But you know, I can extract it…”
“I’d prefer if you didn’t. It’s not posing a threat. It’s just not quite time for you to learn everything yet. She says you have to wait a while longer.”
“Conor, as much as I want to just go straight to them–” his eyes trailed something from Conor’s neck to the floor. “–I’ll give you that request, but I’d prefer a better reason next time.”
“Let’s just say she’s directly linked to the order that’s held in Equestria.”
“I meant a better reason to not go find them immediately.”
“Her,” Conor corrected casually.
Shawn returned it with a flat stare, which Renati seemed to mimic as well.
“What? Just because I can’t say everything doesn’t mean I can’t say some things.”
Shawn shook his head as he sat up. “Anything else you want to talk about?”
“Theories for why the Everfree is normal while everywhere else is controlled?”
“Quite the opposite, actually. Magic here is drastically different from most of Equis, which is the cause for the unstable weather.”
“... Just how long were you researching all of this?”
“Long enough. Do you know how long I’ve been here?”
“Nearly half a century?”
“Pretty much, and that time is only going to grow. My thaumic field is keeping my body at a specific state, from what the book explains at least, which means I’m going to age slower than I should. Grif should as well, but Pensword’s field is getting weaker and weaker each day he doesn’t use it. Doesn’t help that I delayed it even further by using a golem to hold myself from aging for over thirty years.”
“So are you just going to let Pensword’s field die, then?”
“I’ve tried to get him to use it more, but he doesn’t. But I do know one thing that will get him to use it more… Even if I don’t like what it will do to him.”
“Is it dangerous?”
“It’s better than letting it kill him, but he isn’t going to like the effects of it...”
Pensword walked the ramparts of the Castle as he casually listened to the sounds of construction and activity around him. He smiled. Today the military would be returning, and the camp would once again become active. He looked forward to that. He paused as he looked over the forest and once again remembered the old Unity. The ghosts of buildings and squares rose up from the gnarled and wild trees of the forest. He missed those old days, but he knew in time the city would be great again. Then he would be able to make new memories. He sighed happily and let the moment wash over him.
“Good evening, Sir,” a familiar voice spoke as a Unicorn approached from his left.
“Good Evening, Animal Control,” Pensword answered. “How are you doing? I hope you are getting used to the officer rank.”
“I’m trying, Sir. I know I’m early, but I was vacationing relatively nearby. Ponyville is a nice town when it’s not being torn apart.” She laughed.
“So I have been told. Sadly I cannot seem to visit on a quiet day,” Pensword replied with a laugh. “I am guessing you are planning to stay in the area.” He frowned. “Are you ... at all regretting coming forward in time?”
“You aren't the only one who lost everything, Sir,” Animal said with a sigh. “You just found out about it sooner.”
“What happened?” Pensword asked as he sat down, patting the stone next to him with a hoof. “Would you like to talk about it? Maybe need to go hunt down some emblems?” he asked seriously. His expression softened. “Need anything at all?”
She sat down slowly beside him. “Some things you can’t get the emblem of, Sir. I came from a small town inside the Whitetail Woods. The year after I left was a dry year. There was a thunderstorm that started a fire. The Pegasi lost control, and by the time the next morning rolled around, it was all gone. … I got the message on the battlefield the week after deployment.”
Pensword nodded. “I am sorry to hear that.” The pair sat quietly for a time, allowing the silence to reign long enough to see the sun rising before Pensword spoke again. “Do you have plans for today? Also, did Clover tap you for teaching military magic yet? If not, you should volunteer. We need to get these Unicorns up to snuff, to our standard. Not the standard that the nobility seems to be so fond of.”
“Clover approached me about it. I want to get everything stabilized first before I consider it, though. With everything as it is, our paperwork is backed up, and I need to get the new payroll to Hammer Strike by the end of the week. When I’ve gotten our administration cleaned up, then I’ll work on helping to teach.”
“Sounds good. Mind you, when our military grows, do not be surprised if you are in charge of entire supply battalions.” Pensword chuckled. “It’s rare to find a Pony who can get supplies from the Breezies.”
Animal Control laughed. “So you and Foxy, huh? Glad she finally said something.”
“Let me guess, you and the others were betting how long it would take for her to confess her feelings to me?” He chuckled. “Speaking of Fox Feather, the wedding still hasn’t happened yet. She didn’t want you all to miss it.”
“Sir, you should know by now.” Animal control got to her hooves and moved to leave. “A sure thing is not a bet.” She levitated a healthy bag of bits from her saddlebag and winked at him before leaving.
Hearing those words sent yet another wave of nostalgia through him as the blonde mane and white face of Supreme Sunrise flashed across his memory. He missed her. “I hope you are happy, Surprise, and you… are you really related to Pinkie Pie? And that other Surprise in the Wonderbolts?” he asked the wind, not expecting an answer as he got up.
He turned, only to start as he saw the commandante on the grounds, skipping of all things. He blinked in surprise only to see that Pinkie Pie had taken her place, hopping along in her usual style as she chit chatted to one of the stone workers about something. She and the worker turned around the corner with a wheelbarrow. When the stone worker walked back into view with more mortar to set, Pinkie Pie was no longer with her. Pensword shook his head incredulously. “Well, I guess I got my answer.”
Grif warbled to himself as he hiked the stretch from the forest towards the fortress. Several dead rabbits waiting to be cleaned had been slung across his back. There’s nothing like a successful hunt to put a spring in a Gryphon’s steps. He’d nearly reached the bridge when he caught the sound of movement nearby. Cautiously, he turned towards the sound, ready for anything to emerge from the forest. What came out nearly caused his more human traits to take over and squeal. Grif promptly stifled said squeal
A bright flash of red and white silk heralded the arrival of the mysterious strangers. Stepping forward two at a time, a series of standard bearers held their pinions high beneath the curved blade of the naginata. Each of the creatures in the column maintained a dignified silence. Their simple white kimonos clung tightly to their bodies to prevent the foliage and underbrush from catching as they passed through the forest while still giving the impression of benevolence and peace. Their red fur stood out against the white as they continued their regimented march. Behind the standard bearers, four more creatures strode out with their bare paws. Their arms hung loosely at their sides, and each held their own unique weapon tied to their waist. One held a long curved sheath that clearly indicated a katana. Two held a medium and a short sword bound on either side. The last was unarmed, at least with any material weapons. A black belt had been tied around his waist, and he stood a little taller than his fellows as he scanned the surroundings warily. His eyes immediately locked onto Grif. Behind them, a tall cone-like cap with two white cloth lines and two red lines peeked above the escort. Behind this unseen figure, the mirror image of the escort took up the rear. As one, they halted, red tails swishing patiently.
The first standard bearer, a somewhat smaller fox with one tail stepped forward. His large, cone-like ears indicated he was of Fennec descent, and his eyes were bright and calculating, albeit respectful as he gave a brief bow. “Excuse me, honored Gryphon. We are on a journey in search of an old friend of our master. Please, tell me, are we on the proper path to reach Unity?” His voice, while a little on the thin and dry side, was smooth and steady, filled with patience.
Grif stood there for a minute, half of his mind perplexed at how a party from an isolationist nation made it all the way here undetected, the other half freaking out because Kitsunes where right in front of him. A gust of wind blasted the Gryphon with the same force as a smack to the face, bringing him to his senses. Carefully, he cleared his throat and idly straightened his armor. “Yes. New Unity is just across that bridge, actually. I was just headed back from my hunt. If you’d like, I can take you there.”
“You do us a great service. We thank you, Avatar of Winds.”
“If I may ask,” Grif said, lowering his beak in respect to the elder he was certain lay behind the guard. “Your people don’t tend to travel much, and they go to great lengths not to be seen when they do. How is it that you made it to Unity, literally the center of the country, in silence so effortlessly?”
A mischievous smile crept across the messenger’s face. “We have our ways, Avatar, as we are certain you have yours.” A playful light twinkled in his eyes as he looked to the Gryphon. “You may call me Ping. Everyone else does.” He chuckled as he signaled the column to advance.
“And I am Grif. All who come in peace are welcome in New Unity,” Grif said as he walked beside the young fox. “I should warn you, though, my goddaughter may attempt to ambush you.”
“So long as she is gentle, we can handle ourselves. Should she seek to use anything life threatening, however …” The Kitsune shrugged amiably.
“That depends if your people consider cuteness in amounts of lethality.” Grif laughed as the gates to Unity began to loom on the horizon. “Charge! If the gate’s not open by the time I get there, I’m burning the rum!” Grif shouted at the top of his lungs. The effect was notable as the gates immediately began to creak open.
“Ach, Grif, ya guttersnipe! How could ya threaten ta burn our best brew?” Demolition Charge demanded as the party passed in under the doors. “An’ who’re the newbies? Yer not cowtowin’ to some fancy hoity toity nobles, are ye?” He spat over the wall behind him.
“These are guests of Hammer Strike. That’s all you need to know!” Grif called back as he led the party through the gate. He looked apologetically behind. “I’m sorry about that. Some of our men are less formal about visitors.”
He was met by a merry chuckle. “I’ve read a thing or two about the Demolition family. They’re a very distinguished branch in your country, or so I’ve read, singlehandedly working anywhere from twenty to a hundred jobs at a time. How on the good earth did you manage to get two of them under the same roof?”
“They paid us, that’s how!” Grenado shouted in his brogue. “Oy, Grif! Ya owe us another twenty kegs now. Be ready ta pay us next month!”
“Grenado, shut up,” Grif said plainly before turning to face a patch of thin air. “Espio, go get Pensword. Tell him to meet me outside Hammer Strike’s office. And don’t pretend you're not there.” There was a moment of silence followed by a grumbling as Espionage dropped the camouflage spell and stalked off, his rouge suit still coming back into focus. “Heavy Set, Heavy Duty, walk side by side in front of us so no one gets in our way.” The two massive stallions, who had been sitting by the gate wall enjoying a couple of sandwiches, gulped down their food and proceeded as ordered. “They’re rough around the edges, but they get the job done,” he said to Ping as they walked.
From the rooftops a flicker of motion and the whistle of wind heralded the suction cup bolt before it found its mark on one of the guards’ arms. Said guard promptly pulled it out and placed it in a pocket. Grif had a feeling the dart was meant for something a little more obvious, namely the tall hat of the as yet faceless delegate, which meant one thing. Moon River had a goal for the next hour before she got bored.
“You needn’t fear. We know how to handle such things, and children are most precious in the eyes of our race. After all, children are the future. They are the weavers of history.” Ping chuckled and shook his head as a second bolt fired. This time, one of the weaponless guards leapt into the air and snatched it in his hand mid-flight before returning to the same fluid pace.
“Shouldn’t have done that,” Grif said under his breath. “Now you’ve given her a challenge.”
In her hidden corner, Moon River smirked mischievously as she fitted another dart to her crossbow.
“Then we’ll make it a game. We do rather enjoy those, Grif. But I’m sure you already knew this,” Ping said, winking playfully.
“How could I? I’ve never met a Kitsune before, and so little is known about your people.” Grif played the ignorant card.
Ping laughed. “ Come now, Grif. We know a great deal about history, including recent events.”
“If you’re referring to Taze, the visitor from the other world, I’m afraid he’s not said much on his home or the creatures thereabout, and he hasn’t returned from his vacation overseas, I am afraid.”
“And yet he is fighting to cross the waves in the sea of your eyes,” Ping said cryptically. He winked as they passed through another corridor.
“You seem to be well informed. Tell me, Ping, do you know the origin of the name you give me? It was a name used to hide a certain secret.” Grif leaned in, his voice a whisper. “I may not know a lot about your race, but I’ve seen enough people with something to hide to know how they carry themselves. You keep trying to unearth my secrets, and I might just have to unearth a few of yours. Is that clear?”
“As crystal.” Ping continued to press forward, though his smile didn't waver. “You do realize I will still remain curious, however, yes?”
"You Kitsunes are related to foxes. Foxes have feline tendencies, so when I say curiosity killed the cat, please make of it what you will. Some knowledge even you aren't ready for.”
“I like you, friend. Or at least, I hope that I may call you such.” Ping laughed as they reached the immense double doors.
“Hammer Strike, you know how I was only supposed to disturb you if Chrysalis attacked, the Heavies got drunk, or a random political party of a different species showed up?” Grif called through the door. “One of those things happened!”
“The heavies got drunk?” Hammer called out.
“No.”
A tired sigh carried through the wood. “Which political party is it this time?”
“You may not believe me. We’ve got Kitsunes.”
There was a long pause. “Didn’t expect that one. I was going to guess Yaks. Come on in.”
As the group entered the room, Pensword rounded the corner and he blinked in surprise. “Okay, this is new,” he muttered. “What brought them out of isolation? It is never a good sign when they show up. I will have words with Celestia.” His ear twitched as he caught a familiar laugh. A suction bolt was sticking squarely between one of the guards’ shoulder blades, right where it would be hardest to reach.
“Pensword, you’d best come in for this meeting,” Grif said as he pushed the double doors open. “Seeing as you’re Equestria's only real military representative at the moment.”
“I really want that changed soon,” he muttered grumpily. “The Grand Galloping Galla cannot come soon enough for me.”
“And so the trio of legends is complete,” an older, dryer voice said. The guards parted to reveal a taller, albeit slimmer Kitsune garbed in a simple set of robes. The light blue inner lining complimented the white of his sleeves. His tall hat fit perfectly over his white fringed red furry face. Two sharp ears perked on either side of the ceremonial cap, holding it in place while five furry tails swished behind him. “Lord Hammer Strike, my name is Sai. It is an honor to make your acquaintance.” He bowed his head.
“A pleasure. And please, just Hammer Strike. What brings you so far out here?”
“We come on the behalf of our elder. When word reached his ears that you had returned to Equestria in a time of relative peace, he immediately expressed an intense desire to travel here and meet with you.”
“But from the sounds of things, he could not.”
“He would have, but there are many who would seek to take him and his knowledge for their own. He is one of the oldest among us, and while he is far from frail, we would rather he remain as safe as possible. I am his secretary, though I also dabble in the occasional game of Go.” Sai smiled as he pulled out a simple folding fan and waved it over his face. “We managed to convince him to wait until we sent a delegation to you before he tried to come himself. He agreed, albeit reluctantly, but only on the grounds that–” he swallowed “–that we extend you an honor few have ever received.”
“I will require a few others with me.”
“Lord Hammer Strike, it’s hard enough to bring even just one outsider into our nation, let alone its heart. What you’re suggesting is–”
“Sai, I’ll be honest. I’ve been wanting to test out a few things, and the primary one I want to test just can’t be done by myself,” Hammer Strike started. “I’ll even be able to get us there faster than conventional airship travel, and we need to make this trip to there fast because I have to lead Unity. So like it or not, we’re bringing a few more trusty individuals.”
“Don’t forget Rarity. She’ll kill you in the most fabulous way possible if you don’t take her on this one,” Grif said
“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Hammer Strike redirected his gaze to Sai. “So do we have an understanding?”
Sai sighed. “Master Haku warned me that there might be some … stipulations. Just how large of a party will you require, Hammer Strike?”
“Well, let’s see.” He hummed for a moment. “Six.”
“... That is surprisingly low. Master Haku estimated somewhere around a hundred. How long will it take for you and your friends to prepare?”
“Perhaps a week.”
“Until then we’ll make sure you all have a place to sleep,” Grif said. “Just don’t expect something lavish. We’re a bit tight on space at the moment.”
“We are used to travel on the road, Avatar. We will take whatever accommodations you deem fit humbly and thankfully.”
Grif entered Carousel Boutique at a slow measured pace. He had drawn the short straw, and as such was given the job of informing Rarity of the impending trip. “Rarity, are you here?” he called.
“Well, of course I’m here, Grif. What can I do for you?” Rarity asked as she exited the back room and returned her spools of thread to their shelves. She levitated her measuring tape back into its drawer and turned to face the Gryphon.
“You wanted this, so get packed up and be ready to explore uncharted lands in a week. We just got an invitation from the Kitsunes to visit them in their homeland. And let me make this clear, because we all know your packing skills. Two regular sized suitcases, Rarity, and not one handbag more. Is that clear?”
“But Grif, what am I going to do with all my sketching materials?” Her eyes were wide with wonder. “This is a once in a lifetime … no, not even a lifetime opportunity. Do you have any idea what styles I could create, what cultural influences I could add to my designs? Why, I could create a whole new line of fashion completely unique to my brand alone.” Her eyes were sparkling with wonder as she began to daydream.
“Look at it this way, Rarity. Their own party approached us with very little. From what we could tell, it seems likely their culture is very minimalist. Bring a lot of luggage and you may seem ignorant to them. Do you like talking shop with someone who’s ignorant?”
Rarity pouted. “Ooh, I hate it when you’re right!” She immediately proceeded to bite one of her forehooves. “I’ll have to be very selective in what I wear. And besides that, I’ll need room for souvenirs. And the jewelry will have to go, too, I suppose.” She sighed. “Why don’t you come back for me later, darling? Something tells me I’m going to be busy the next few days.”
“Make sure to bring your sword,” Grif said as he turned to the door. “They’ll respect you more for it.” He left without another word
Pensword sat behind his desk down in the closet on the first floor. At least it was an improvement compared to the space he’d had to occupy before. He could hardly wait for the ground to be broken on the barracks remodeling next month. He idly shuffled through sheafs of newspapers and other reports, looking for signs of any mischief the troops may have had over the holiday. So far he could feel nothing but pride for their conduct. The Manehattan Times had been especially enlightening. He gave a cursory nod as Preston entered to remove the pile of documents from the outbox. As an added service he also took the newspaper before departing. Pensword was glad of the aid. Hopefully in the coming weeks they would be able to move these military records someplace other than the old siege supply sub basements. He rubbed his temples with his wings. Not only would he have to take care of the nightmare of paperwork for these forms with just the three units they had trained here, but he would have to locate all of the old military paperwork from the last war. His expression darkened. If the records from a thousand years ago were destroyed, he would be furious, and not even his princess or high chieftess would be able to stem his wrath.
“Excuse me, mon capitan.” Kahn knocked softly on the door.
“Yes, Kahn?” Pensword asked as he looked up from yet another report. “What is it?” He frowned. “Is there a problem with integration of the Demon Slayers?”
“Not at the moment, Sir. One of the visitors to the fortress has requested some of your time.”
“Oh?” Pensword closed the file and turned around, placing it into one of the cabinet drawers behind him. Acting swiftly, he lit up a lamp and laid it on the table to help brighten the room. “Well, send him in.”
“Oui. As you wish.” Kahn nodded before leaving the room. His muffled voice was heard for a second outside the door before Pensword's guest made his way into the the makeshift office.
“You are the Pensword of legend, yes? The one to singlehandedly take the Gryphon Fort Triumph without a single casualty?”
“That is correct,” Pensword answered with a nod, hiding his confusion. “How may I help you, Ping?” He stood cautiously.
“Our people are foremost scholars and record keepers. Our task is to safeguard the history and cultures of the world so that they are forever preserved for future generations. If you would not mind, we would respectfully ask to add your story to our archives as seen through your own eyes.” Ping pulled out a scroll and placed it respectfully on the table. “If you are interested in accepting this proposal, you need simply produce the scroll within our archives and we will make the necessary arrangements. My master asked that I inform you the decision is completely up to you and will in no way impact relations between our peoples.”
“... I am willing to pursue this proposal of yours. On one condition,” Pensword said. “You must interview the remaining members of what was once the Gryphon Slayers. They served at my side along with Lunar Fang. Their stories are just as important as mine. Unless they are recorded with my own, I will not consent.”
“We were not aware that you had returned with further witnesses of the war, other than your mate, of course. The history of Equis will be made all the richer for their contributions. Had I the authority, I would immediately say yes. As it is, I must withdraw and inform Master Sai of your stipulations. I am quite certain that he will agree most heartily.” Ping bowed deeply. “Until next we meet, Pensword Sama. May the knowledge of the past guide you to a better future,” he said, giving a lesser bow before departing the office.
Pensword stood and nodded his head. “Till then.” He cocked his head, confused as the door shut. “... What does sama mean?”
“So this is a new record for us,” Grif said. “Not even back a week and there’s another trip around the corner. You think maybe we’ll get winter off?” It was several hours later, and Pensword, Vital, and Grif were chatting in the armory trying to fit Vital Spark with some appropriate armor.
“I still don’t get why you don’t just let me keep using my leather armor. It’s already tailored to fit and it transitions easily between forms,” Vital Spark said as yet another shiny breastplate was placed against his barrel.
“Okay, first off, the spell that we use to shift forms adjusts clothing and armor accordingly,” Grif said. “Secondly, we’re about to enter a territory where we haven’t got the slightest clue what we'll be facing should we be attacked,” Grif said.
“Also, it is a form of prestige and pecking order on the style and design. We want and need to fit the image of the bigger than life.” Pensword smiled. “Besides, I have at least three sets. I have my training armor, my dress/ceremonial armor, and the full on combat war armor. While all of them can survive a war, each one serves its own unique purpose.” He nodded to Grif. “Besides, better safe than sorry.”
“Okay, try lifting something with your horn,” Grif said as he helped Vital with the pauldrons and greaves. “Let’s see if the current enchantments hinder you at all.”
“Alright. What did you have in mind, something from the weapons rack?”
“Anything at all, really,” Grif said. “We just need to test to make sure it’s not fighting against you”
“... Okay. Still don’t get why armor would do that, though.” Closing his eyes, Vital Spark concentrated as best he could. His horn ignited into a light blue that surrounded one of the pole staves. Using the telekinesis he’d learned, he spun it in the air and performed a few aerial strokes. “Is that okay?”
“Good. Looks like the protective enchantments realize they’re working with your magic.” Grif nodded. “How’s the weight? Move around a little. Test the articulation.”
Vital huffed slightly as the heavy metal clattered along with him. The joints creaked and protested, but he managed at least a somewhat brief waddle. “It’s sort of heavy …”
“Hmm. Too heavy or just strange heavy?” Grif ran his talons along the joints, making mental notes of where the plates seemed to be chafing one another.
“... I don’t know. I’ve never worn heavy armor before. It feels a bit bulky, and … well, kind of heavy.” He smiled sheepishly. “I think I might need something a little lighter.” As if to prove his point, he placed his forehoof on a stray oil rag that had been left on the ground. In a matter of moments he was a clattering heap of metal and buckles struggling to get back to his hooves again. “Eeyup, definitely too heavy,” he groaned through the visor, which had clanked shut over his muzzle.
“Okay, I’ll ask Hammer Strike if he’s got something prepared in a lighter material. Maybe we should go for chain mail, rather than plating anyway. Unless, of course, you’d like for me to give you to Rarity. I’m sure she has what you need.” Grif smiled mischievously. “You’d just need to sit for a fitting.”
“Grif, I just went through one recently. I’d rather not face another,” Vital groaned as he took the outstretched talons and got to his hooves. “Besides, I don’t think Rarity specializes in metalworking, though her fashion sense is impeccable.”
“That may be true, but we still have to show that Equestria is not going to be inferior to the Kitsunes. I get enough problems with the Gryphons. It is going to be us putting our best military hoof forward. Also, do not back down if something happens. Do not lose face. I do not want another war on my hooves,” Pensword said.
Grif was about to reply when the armory’s door burst open quite suddenly. The all-too-familiar figures of The Doctor and Derpy burst into the room. “Doctor, why are we running?” Derpy asked.
“Not now, Derpy. We need to sort this out before anyone realizes what happen–” It was then the doctor noticed the three figures in the room. “And you're all here.”
Grif reared onto his paws, crossing his arms expectantly as he raised an eyebrow. “Doctor, Derpy, what did you do?”
“Doctor, Miss Hooves, a pleasure to see you both again, but please tell me we are not facing some alien invasion, because I really do not want to have to order an evacuation of New Unity, nor do I suspect you would let me charge this threat with my wing blades.”
Derpy looked at them with a confused expression before she looked back at The Doctor. “Doctor, who are these people?”
Grif face taloned.
Vital Spark levitated his helmet off his head, then he noticed a startlingly familiar device beeping in the Earth Pony’s hooves. “Doctor … please don’t tell me you’re tracking an anomaly in the fabric of space and time.”
The Doctor paused as he looked to Vital Spark. “What? How? No, well not really,” he paused. “Maybe ... well, yeah, but it isn’t too dangerous. If it was it would be beeping and flashing red.” The machine started to do so. “And there would be a whirring sound.” He paused and looked at the machine. “Yeah… we might need to be moving quickly.”
Derpy looked to The Doctor with a disappointed look on her muzzle. “Doctor, what’s happening? And who are these people? Where are we? You said we were only going to Marven Six to see the triple sunset.”
“Okay, Doctor, I’m going to ask this now. Are you tracking something that, if in the wrong hands, could fracture space and time?” Grif asked
“Well, to be perfectly honest, the amount of times I’m not preventing a fracture in space and time are surprisingly few.”
Grif was not amused. “What is it, what does it do, and what happens if somebody touches it?”
“... Yes,” he said. “Oh, look, dinging. It’s dinging! This way, Derpy. Allons y!” And with that, The Doctor raced out the door and off down the corridor.
“... Knowing you three and how messed up space and time is for you, shouldn’t we check on Hammer Strike before he gets sucked through time again? Vital Spark asked.
Grif and Pensword cursed simultaneously in their respective native tongues before racing down the halls and leaving Vital Spark behind.
“... Well that’s not very nice,” Vital said as he levitated his armor off and placed it on the storage racks before running as fast as his hooves would carry him.
Hammer Strike sighed to himself as he read through a few more documents that he needed to have done before their trip. His ear twitched as a faint noise reached them.
“Come in,” he called out.
“Good evening, Hammer Strike Sama.” The elder Kitsune entered the room with a bow. “I hope I am not interrupting anything?”
“Nothing that I won’t have done by the time we set off.” Hammer set down the paper. “What brings you here, Sai?”
“I was hoping that I might get some time to talk with you personally. Master Haku speaks very highly of your time together.”
“Hopefully nothing ridiculous.”
“He was very clear that you are not the ridiculous type. He also asked me to inform you that, sadly, masters Kurama and Gakushu passed away within the last ten years.”
Hammer Strike sighed. “Natural causes?”
“Master Kurama died in his sleep. Master Gakushu, I am afraid, drowned when he dove to save a cub from rapids.”
“I was hoping to see them once more, but fate had other ideas, it seems...”
“They spoke very highly of you. It is so rare for our kind to encounter someone who ages slower than we do. I must admit, I didn’t believe it when I heard it.”
“As mentioned, fate sometimes has wonderful ideas, and sometimes I question who I’ll outlive and how I’ll die.”
“I am sure he who has punched the Shinigami does not fear his end.” Sai smiled at him. “He only seeks to make the largest mark on the way out.”
Hammer gave a light chuckle. “What I am fearful of is the outcome of my death.”
“A reasonable thing to fear.” Sai nodded. “If you will excuse me, I believe I should see about making sure everyone is settled for tonight. Thank you, Hammer Strike Sama. This conversation has been very enlightening.” He bowed his head respectfully before leaving the room.
After a moment Hammer Strike sighed to himself. “Quite odd. Normally I meet them before they meet me.”
The sound of something rolling followed immediately by the sound of metal striking stone broke Hammer Strike out of his musing. On the ground was what looked to be a small bracer with a few wires and panels on it. Hammer Strike squinted at the bracer before looking towards the door. “Must have left it…” he muttered as he stepped around his desk and grabbed the object.
Everything flashed to white, and he found himself in a haze. A thick fog surrounded him as snow fell around him. He groaned as he brought himself up to his hooves. He shook his head, clearing the snow out of his mane before shuddering at the strong feeling of cold that washed over him.
Red flags flew through his mind as he felt the cold seep into his body for the first time in well over forty years. He tried to flare his power, only for a short burst of blue and gold magic to come from his hooves. His brows lowered as he tried to figure out what was going on. The power felt familiar, and yet he couldn’t place it with his mind being as foggy as it was.
“S-stay back!” The voice was far off, but Hammer Strike still managed to pick out two factors. First, the voice’s owner was young. Second, whoever owned that voice was clearly in distress. In an instant his woozy mind was forgotten as Hammer Strike dashed for the sound.
“Something is very wrong,” Grif said as they reached Hammer Strike’s office, having yet to open the door.
“Guys, wait up!” Vital Spark yelled from down the hall as he galloped pell mell to reach them. He had left the armor behind at the armory. It only would have hindered his movements.
“You three need to leave now,” The Doctor said as he ran his device up and down the doorway. “You’re not even supposed to be here right now. If my future self were to find me here, it would be positively disastrous for the timeline. It’s bad enough that you lot have seen me.”
“Doctor...” Grif turned to him, rearing up to his full height. The strange Earth Pony suddenly found himself staring up into the face of a severely angry Gryphon. “You’ve managed to put a friend of mine in danger. If you try to get rid of us again, I will smack you so hard, you'll regenerate, and I don’t even care if that breaks time. Am I clear?”
“I’ve put your friend in danger? I’m not the bloody one who made the stupid thing. It’s your damned secret serviceman. I swear, when I get my hooves on that Jack Harness …”
Pensword proceeded to get between the pair. “Uh, question. With how much Hammer Strike goes back and forth, maybe this is one of his fixed trips? After all, we do have a courtyard of Kitsune delegates at the moment, and we do seem to always go back in time to create the stable reason why a delegation would seek us out.” Pensword looked at the unified blank stares from the gathered Ponies. “What? It just seems like a common thought that it was bound to happen. Also, for the record, all of us will end up becoming good friends in your future timelines.” He sighed. “I think I will create a UNIT for this kind of stuff.”
Grif looked to the door, approached experimentally, and made as if to knock. Before his talons even made contact, he growled. “He’s not in there,” he said as he opened the door.
“That is what I thought. The place sounded too quiet,” Pensword said. “So, Doctor, what is the plan of action? After all, I would rather not have Hammer Strike deal with whatever it is you’re upset about on his own. So does that mean a TARDIS rescue mission?”
“It means I will be going on a TARDIS rescue mission. You lot get to stay here. That Jack is doubtless to be somewhere hereabouts. He’s been trying to get that band back just as much as I’ve been trying to keep him from it. Keep an eye out for him. I’ll have Hammer Strike back as quick as you can say Sweet Celestia.”
“Doctor, if you try to push us away from this one more time, I swear I’ll get Dinky to help me,” Grif said, “and I think you know how good she is. Don’t make me call the Muffin Mare.”
“Doctor, who’s Dinky?” Derpy asked, confused.
“Not now, Derpy,” The Doctor snapped. “How do you know that mare?” he demanded.
“Because she likes to visit me as well,” Pensword answered. “You think I am just at the beck and call of one Timelord?” Pensword shook his mane. “Trust me, I think it would be best if we hurried before some time paradox event occurs. Besides, Doctor, I need to talk to you about building something of an Equis response team for any of your ‘friends’ who might visit Equis while you are off world saving another galaxy.”
“Later, Pensword,” The Doctor snapped. He was holding his scanner over a spot on the floor where a small pile of ash lay midst a single green wire. “Gone,” he hissed. “But where? When? Derpy, bag me.”
“Right,” Derpy said as she handed a bread bag over. The Doctor promptly snatched it and carefully began dusting the ash and wire into it.
“We can only hope what’s left is enough,” he said clinically as he eyed the bag, then turned promptly to the gathered group. “Well, what’re you lot waiting for? You said you weren’t going to stay behind, so come on then.” With that, he raced out the door as fast as his legs would carry him, bag in mouth.
“Doctor, wait for me!” Derpy cried as she followed.
Pensword immediately took to the air, flew out through the top of the doorway, and nearly knocked Lightning Dust out of the air in his haste.
“What gives? First the stallion nearly plows me over, then some googly-eyed grey Pegasus almost clips my wings, and now you almost clock me. Where’s the emergency?” she asked.
“Lightning, this is a classified event. Tell Lunar Fang that I have to go hunt down the human Shawn, and I do not know when I will be back. It might be soon, or it might be a few days. Also, if Lunar Fang or Fox Feather make any objections, or seem ready to strangle you, just tell them that I am going to put myself on the couch for this stunt, and not to hurt you. I will accept the consequences when I return.”
Lightning Dust nodded fearfully and Pensword continued on his way.
“Vital, whatever you do, don’t let go,” Grif said, grabbing the Unicorn’s foreleg in his before taking off after The Doctor at almost maximum speed. Vital barely had enough time to close his mouth before the rush of air roared past his ears and everything became a blur.
Lightning Dust was about to fly off to Lunar Fang’s quarters when a sudden gust of wind spun her silly, leaving a series of wonderbolt medals circling her head as she plopped down on the floor. “Yes, Mommy, I’m gonna be the best flyer there is. Can I go to sleep now?” Then she promptly collapsed on the floor.
Hammer Strike arrived at a spacious clearing. Cold winter winds whipped and bit into his flanks as snow flurries lashed around the perimeter of the forest. Numerous Kitsunes lay sprawled out dead. Backed into a corner of the clearing, a dark orange Kitsune kit stood holding the broken head of a naginata like a sword in a shaking stance. Behind him, another kit was looking after what Hammer Strike had first assumed to be a dead kit before he noticed the faint flicker of movement that heralded a critical condition. Encroaching on the trio in a blur of ice and wind stood a trio of windigos.
“I said stay back!” The orange kit growled, spitting out a rather pathetic fireball at them.
Taking no time to think of a proper plan, Hammer Strike charged towards the closest windigo near him. As soon as he deemed the distance right he lept into the air, bringing his right forehoof back as it burst with gold magic. The reaction was instantaneous. The windigo shrieked in pain and disappeared. The ground beneath where it had once pawed in the air had been thawed and steamed from the outburst of energy.
Hammer Strike landed in front of the trio of Kitsunes, taking a moment to evaluate the duo of Windigos left before launching himself at the next closest target. Bringing his left hoof back, it followed the pattern previously, only this time with a dark blue energy. Instead of a burst of power, silver spikes began to form on his hoof that soon spread to ultimately become dark blue claws. Lunging forward, he used them to tear into the second Windigo. As the claws passed through the wind spirit’s form, trails of silver light seemed to be carved into the creature, which instantly began to spread. The Windigo screamed in pain as the purifying light burned away it’s very core until all that remained was a shadowy outline in the wind. In a matter of moments even the outline was gone, leaving a set of snowflakes to be blown away on the wind and dispersed across the forest.
Hammer Strike blinked and found himself standing once again before the kits in an instant.
A low cry came from behind. “Gakushu? Gakushu, don’t leave us now. Gakushu!”
Normally when Hammer Strike got angry things caught on fire or melted. Sometimes both at the same time. But there was an eeriness to it now as as his eyes glowed a dark purple that was nearly black. His face was unreadable as he looked into the windigo’s eyes. It held that gaze for only a moment before it shrieked, rearing back in fear. The beast had lived for centuries and fed much on fear, pain, and other negative emotion. But nothing, nothing compared to the cold rage of righteous indignation that burned before it now.
The Windigo moved to flee, only for Hammer Strike to throw his front right leg out in an angry thrust. The front of it almost seemed to vanish as ethereal fire blazed where it had been cut off. Instantly a massive black armored claw tore from a crack that seemed to break from Faust knows where. The growl that came from Hammer Strike was almost feral as his other foreleg shot out, vanishing in the same manner. His body rose into the air, held up by some unearthly force as a second claw broke into existence and grabbed the spirit, forcing it to turn and face its end. The two entities locked eyes one final time, the black void of cold rage and the fearful cold of winter. In an instant the claws pulled, tearing the immaterial beast in two and dragging both halves back to wherever they came from. The cracks sealed behind them as Hammer Strike’s legs returned to him.
“... I don’t believe it,” the smaller kit said, gaping at the Pony.
The dark orange kit held the blade up higher, though his voice carried no confidence. “S-stay back!” he said.
“But Kurama, it’s–”
“Haku, be quiet,” the orange fox snapped. “Get ready to get Gakushu out of here.”
Hammer Strike gave a soft chuckle. “I don’t blame you for fearing that. I can hardly tell what I did, honestly. Just wanted to stop them from harming.” Hammer Strike spoke softly, though still loud enough to be heard as he faced away from them.
The young kit faltered, still obviously unsure what to do. His eyes scanned over the frozen bodies around them, stopping painfully at one older male with a similar coloring.
“Can … can you help us? Please,” the one called Haku begged, his voice catching in his throat. “He … he can’t die. Not after all this.” Tears matted the kit’s fur as a weak glow emanated from his hands. He ran it gently over the prone body’s chest as it fluttered, even as Haku’s own teeth chattered.
Hammer Strike turned and began to approach the trio. “Let me see his injuries, and I’ll be able to tell you if I have the supplies to do it.”
“I-it’s not his injuries. It’s his body temperature. They … they hit him with something that’s freezing him.” Haku shivered again. “I’m trying to keep his body heat up, but ….”
“Magically freezing him?” Hammer Strike questioned as he focused, his eyes lighting up with blue energy.
“Those things hit him,” the one called Kurama said, looking at the group around them. “They attacked out of nowhere. My uncle tried to keep them off us but, but he….” The kit trailed off, looking back to the bodies.
“Kurama, was it?” Hammer Strike asked. “I don’t want to sound rude, but for now we need to focus on the living to keep that going. Once we are able to survive, then we can mourn the deceased and prepare proper burials.” He passed the young fox by and approached the other two. The unconscious one’s breath barely made a puff of steam. The Pony lord knelt down beside the kit and gazed upon the struggling form. His eyes trailed left and right as he scanned the body with glowing eyes.
“A-are you … by chance … well, are you …?” Haku asked through chattering teeth.
“Hammer Strike? Yes,” he replied. Placing a hoof onto the one called Gakushu, a dim glow enveloped it. He held it there for a few seconds, then slowly began to retract. As he drew the hoof back a small blue shard began to take form in his grip. After a moment he pulled it close to inspect it, only to place it into his coat shortly afterwards. “There.”
Gakushu gasped, his eyes flapping wide open as he suddenly sat up and started coughing. Haku let out a low cry and immediately grabbed Gakushu in a warm embrace, even as he continued to shake. Kurama moved beside his friends, attempting to try and make a steady fireball to warm them. Unfortunately, all that came from his hands were sparks.
Hammer Strike sighed. Extending a hoof in his usual manner, a cheerful orange flame consumed it. Slowly the flame coalesced into a small orb that radiated heat and light. He huffed, surprised at the decrease he felt in his energy reserves. The fact that it took more effort and energy to conjure fire than usual gave him some discomfort. Something must have been interfering. But what? He’d have to investigate later.
“Thank you, Hammer Strike Sama.” Haku bowed his head.
“I’m sorry, Haku. I failed you both,” Kurama said, bowing his head to the other kit.
“Kurama, please …”
“They nearly killed Gakushu. They nearly killed you. I had one task on this trip and I failed.”
Gakushu shivered as he sniffed and rubbed his paws over his fur. “What were those things?” he asked in the native tongue of the Kitsune.
Haku shuddered. “I don’t know, Gakushu.”
“We–we can’t stay here,” Kurama said. “Those things could come back. We need to find shelter.”
“Then let’s get moving, shall we?” Hammer Strike asked, directing the orb of fire onto his back. “I can carry any of you while you warm up. Being frozen won’t help the search for a cave.”
“I will be fine, Hammer Strike Sama. Gakushu will require the heat more, I believe.” Haku placed a supporting arm around the young fox and pulled him up. “Will you ride on his back, Gakushu?”
“Honestly, I could carry all three of you if needed,” Hammer Strike commented. “I’ll leave you to decide.”
kurama had not heard him. He leaned over the body of an older male, his fingers at the body’s neck, his head bowed.
Gakushu shivered, then nodded his head as he drew nearer to the fire. “What happened to those creatures?”
“We were saved by that Pony,” Haku said, pointing. “He is the illusive Hammer Strike.”
“But that ... that means danger is here. Nine-tailed Sensei said that the land was in peace and we would be fine with this training mission.” He sniffled.
“The danger is past,” Haku assured him. “He has offered us safe passage and asked that we ride on his back to keep warm. I wish you had paid more attention in our language classes, Gakushu.” Haku sighed.
“I am a gatherer, not a speaker. It was hard enough to learn to read and write in their language.”
“My apologies, Gakushu. Past events have put me on edge. But our savior has asked. What is your answer? I will translate for you.”
“I want to be near the flames, so I shall ride on his back,” he answered with a grimace. “Haku, can you at least bring me my sensei’s satchel?”
“First I will place you on Hammer Strike Sama’s back. Then I will retrieve them.”
Gakushu rolled his eyes, but relented.
Meanwhile Kurama had finished retrieving his uncle’s short sword as well as his sword belt and anything that the young kit may have need of in the future. When he had finished, he pushed his uncle’s body, arranging it so that he appeared to be resting. He then rested the long sword on the Kitsune’s chest and laid his uncle’s paws over it before he raised his paw and glared at the palm of his hand. A tiny flicker of a heatwave appeared at first. He squinted, his arm shaking with effort. At last, a small fireball ignited in his hand. Carefully, he laid it down upon the former warrior’s body and watched as it set alight in a flash of orange light. “Remember the rules, Haku. There must be nothing left to be found,” he called before moving to the next body.
Trembling, Haku nodded. He quickly moved from corpse to corpse, taking a few scrolls, some brushes, an inkwell or two, and placed them into a portable satchel. Afterwards, he reclaimed a separate satchel and laid it over his other shoulder. Afterwards, he ignited his own fire in his paws. Rather than the cheerful orange, this one was a cherry red. Soon the clearing was alight with foxfire.
“Goddess take you and reward you.” Kurama bowed his head as he finished with his last corpse.
“Amen.”
As one, the two foxes turned tiredly to face a curious looking Hammer Strike.
“We are ready to depart, Hammer Strike Sama. Though I believe we may need to accept your offer of riding for a time. The ceremonies for our dead require burning, and we have grown weary from our exertions,” Haku said.
Hammer Strike nodded. “Then get on. I’ll get us going.”
The two did so silently, taking one last look at the clearing as they made their way from it. The fires had dimmed down to mere wisps before slowly guttering out as they left. “It will be at least two years before they send someone to discover what happened.” Kurama sighed.
Hammer Strike hummed for a moment. Thoughts flitted through his mind as he tried to figure out what he could do with the trio on his back. “I don’t know how long I’ll be around these parts, but for as long as I’m here, I can offer assistance.”
“Do you not have other business to attend to?” Haku asked.
“Not for now.”
“Praise the Goddess,” he said fervently.
Hammer Strike gave a small sigh as he set off, his eyes scanning the environment for any sign of a cave or location that they could use for a campsite. The other half of his mind was thinking through what in the world was happening to him. His field felt different, odd. Fire was normally so easy for him to use, but now he needed more focus just to conjure a simple ball of the stuff. Internally, he could feel the magic circulating. Cold and warmth coursed through his body simultaneously. That was … different.
After some time Hammer Strike found a cave for them to use and settled the group inside, leaving the ball of fire near the trio. He sat off to the side as he looked outside the cave. “I’ll head for firewood in a bit.”
Kurama set about unloading one of the satchels. “Fortunately, we have rations. We originally had enough for the entire group for a month. If we are careful, and preserve the meat, we may have enough to feed us for four months. I am sorry, Hammer Strike Sama, but it is mostly dried meat.”
“Don’t worry about it. I could still eat it, but I’ll stick with what I can find out there whenever I feel hunger.”
“Perhaps we can be of assistance to you after we have recovered,” Haku offered.
Hammer Strike just chuckled as he rose and walked into the frozen forest. “I’ll be back soon.”
Extended Holiday Ch 85: Time and Time Again... Act 11
“So let me get this straight. There’s a Captain Jack Harness you work with from time to time who is constantly time traveling using a teleport bracelet that also acts as a temporal displacer, but it was damaged, and now it’s traveling through space and time randomly and taking anyone that touches it with it until it wears completely down?” Vital Spark asked as they entered the TARDIS.
“Precisely. So now on top of trying to catch the lovely device, or what’s left of it now, I’m going to have to find Hammer Strike and bring him back. Do you have any idea how much debt I already owe him? It’s positively ridiculous!” The Doctor said as he pulled out the bag and hooked the wire up to a bunch of cables with pincers to scan its energy signature. “Hmmm … just as I suspected.” He tutted and shook his head.
“Yeah, there’s someone else we’re going to have to pick up before we can leave. Otherwise she’ll kill Vital Spark,” Grif said
“Uh, Grif, who are you talking about?” Vital asked, a look of pure bafflement on his face.
“Rarity.” Grif shrugged. “She demanded to be part of the next adventure. And frankly, you're the only one of us who can’t fly and/or time travel. And she’s gotten very good with a rapier.”
“And she’d take it out on me even though I had nothing to do with it?”
“Guilty by association, my friend. You may not have robbed the bank, but you helped plan the robbery.”
“How am I supposed to be responsible for Hammer Strike being flung somewhere in time?”
“It’s not so much him getting flung in time as the possibility of her getting left behind.”
“Fair enough. You’re alright if we pick her up first, aren’t you?” Vital asked as he turned to the console. “I mean, she probably feels the same way you do if The Doctor tries to leave you behind.”
“Need I remind the group that the Demon Slayers have taken a liking to Vital and his rather innocent outlook on life? It reminds us all of who we go to war for. I’d rather he remain in one piece,” Pensword said. “Anyway, Doctor, I do not like the look you have there. Where and when is he?”
“That’s not right. It can’t be right. He’s already there. He can’t be there twice; it’d skew the timeline,” The Doctor said as he checked and rechecked the calculations.
“Well, while you’re busy taking care of that, do you think the TARDIS would mind swinging by Carousel Boutique to pick up Rarity? I’d rather not have a bunch of holes put through me if I can help it,” Vital Spark said.
The TARDIS began its musical droning, signaling she had already started to travel. Within a few seconds the faint image of the familiar Unicorn began phasing in and out of the ship. With a final echoing thud, the Ship finished its materialization and Rarity stood gawking at the group.
“My boutique! My beautiful boutique!” she wailed before turning on the group at the console. “What have you done to my fabulous store?” she demanded as she advanced on the gathered Ponies and Gryphon, her horn ablaze.
“Rarity, calm down. Your shop’s fine,” Grif said, raising his talons placatingly. Just look outside.
“And how, exactly, am I supposed to do that?” she snarled as a series of tiny and very sharp pins emerged from the pincushion she’d been holding in her hoof. The flashing of her horn complimented the ruby hairpin in her hair beautifully.
“You are going to be seeing Hammer Strike soon? If you do calm down, you will learn how your shop is fine, and how you are here as well,” Pensword said casually as he observed one of the many round things surrounding the control panel.
“Hammer Strike? Did he arrange this?”
“Not exactly, Rarity,” Vital Spark said as he walked over to the ramp that led to the doors. “Just take a step out this way. It’s easier to show, then tell.” He pushed open the door with the familiar creak of old wood on unoiled hinges.
Rarity proceeded to make her way outside. Her eyes widened. She popped her head back inside. She raced outside again. Her hoofsteps were clearly audible as she raced around the ship to return to the entrance in a matter of seconds. She peered inside again. “I don’t believe it,” she gasped.
“Yes, yes, I know. It’s–” The Doctor started.
“It’s smaller on the outside,” Rarity said.
“... Okay, that is a first,” the Doctor said, turning back to the monitor as he stamped a hoof on the floor with a decisive clop. The doors slammed shut and the TARDIS began whirring again as her engines engaged and she took flight.
“Where to, Doctor?” Vital asked.
“Pre-unification Equestria, the kingdom of your ancestor, Lady Rarity.”
“M-my ancestor?”
“Why, Princess Platinum, of course,” The Doctor said offhandedly as he continued to manipulate various levers and buttons. “Now, if you lot could please let me concentrate, the TARDIS is a very finicky thing sometimes, and the old girl would like some attention. Go talk with yourselves for now. I’ll let you know once we’ve arrived,” he said dismissively.
Pensword frowned as Derpy got to help a little with the machine. “But I wanted to help as well. The jiggly lever looked fun.” He paused . “Okay, Matthew, you are a commander. You are not a colt. Act your age,” he chided himself, then sighed as he turned, only to bump into Rarity. “My apologies, Rarity. I was just making my way to find the wardrobe. It is going to be cold where we’re going. Would you care to join me? Your gift for finding jewels and impeccable fashion sense should aid us well on this venture. I can apprise you of current events as well.”
“Oh alright, but only because I know you’d be helpless without me,” Rarity huffed, daintily sticking her nose up as she passed.
“Well, you know more about that era of history than I. I could teach you about the Military Pegasus territory just fine, but Unicorn nobility stuff… I’m still getting used to the fact that I am a noble.” Pensword gave a small laugh. “Come on, I think I know where the place is.”
“That makes two of us, Darling. And wait … “ her eyes widened. “Did he just say that I was descended from Princess Platinum?”
“Really? Really? Rarity, I figured you were at least smart enough to see this one coming.” Grif facetaloned. “I’ve been teaching you to pay attention to detail. Have you not found it at least a little funny that you both had a talent for tracking gems? That your family, despite not being nobility officially till less than a year ago, receives a royal stipend every month that pays for your parents’ endless vacations and trips?” Grif asked her levelly. “You’re the bastard line. Your family's being paid to keep quiet about it and let house Platinum act like you don’t exist.”
“First of all, the talent for tracking gems was never historically verified. Some scholars merely theorize that was her gift. As for the other parts … I always assumed Mother and Father were using credit. They … never were very focused on finances.”
“They bought you a store for your cuteceñera present,” Grif said flatly.
Rarity’s face fell. “What you say does make sense.” She sighed. “To think that I’m descended from a bastard.”
“Rarity, just about every noble family is somewhere down the line,” Vital said. “You know how they can be.”
“... True. It is going to take some getting used to, all the same.”
“Just be wary. I’m guessing now that you’ve got your own noble status, House Platinum may try to rejoin with you again.”
Rarity laughed. “Oh, they can try, Vital Spark. They can try.”
“That’s my student.” Grif smiled. “Everything you need is in your bla– we forgot your sword.” Grif facetaloned again.
“I’m sure we can find a suitable replacement, Grif. The TARDIS has everything a person could need, including swords and other props. It won’t be the same as Seamripper, but it’ll have to do,” Vital said.
“I suppose so. Come on, Pensword, we have work to do.” With that, Rarity stepped purposefully out of the room and passed down a hall as Pensword raced to catch up.
“So, Doctor, how far do we have to go before we reach our destination?” Vital asked.
Just before the doctor could speak, The TARDIS shook slightly as the droning stopped. “I think we’ve arrived.”
“You… think?” Grif asked
“Well … there was a bit of a static moment there on the scanners, but I don’t think anything serious happened,” The Doctor said, checking the screens.
Grif moved to the doors. “You’re sure?”
“Positive,” The Doctor said.
“That’s what you said last time,” Derpy commented dryly.
Tentatively, Grif opened the door before immediately slamming it. “Doctor, I don’t think we’re in Equestria.”
“Grif, I’m 960 years old. I believe I know how to navigate time and space,” The Doctor said as he moved towards the door. “I assure you we are most definitely, unequivocally, without a doubt in Eque–” he opened the door to reveal an alien that resembled a knight chess piece with a frill of razor sharp metal down it’s back and two glowing lights resembling pony ears. A long spiraling metal horn stuck out from the forehead.
“EXTERMINATE!” the alien shouted in The Doctor’s face.
“... Oh dear.”
Hammer Strike sighed to himself. It had been over a week and he was beginning to question how long it would be until The Doctor showed up. He hummed at the crude tools he had made with what materials he had available. A forge was mostly made, though some components of it were barely being held together, and it would have to do until he could build a proper set-up.
He nodded in approval as he finished shaping the anvil. If he was going to be with these kits for the long haul, they needed a proper shelter to stay in, not some random cave. He was loath to admit it, but the cold was still a bit bothersome, and until he could sort through whatever was going on with his magic, a house would provide better shelter and warmth. The task would prove to be a bit more difficult with his hoof wrapped up. He frowned as he shifted his right forehoof around. For some reason, whatever it was that he had done to the Windigos had burned him. He would need to investigate the abnormality later once he had healed. To say the least, life in this time period had proven to be an interesting experience for him.
Kurama had left one day and returned with a large sturdy stick. He had spent the last few days smoothing and rounding it out. it seemed obvious to Hammer Strike he planned to try and repair the naginata. Gakushu had taken to gathering and organizing the cave into something of a livable location. If they were going to weather the storm outside, they would need to make the space more livable until a better structure could be completed. Haku diligently worked at his scrolls, painting various kanji to record the events of their party and the time they would be spending with Hammer Strike, starting with a list of the fallen party members’ names.
Hammer Strike perked up for a moment. Looking towards the entrance, his eyes caught the faint movement of something fluttering outside of the cave. Flashes of orange, red, and the hardest to see, white flickered across the clearing. He frowned as he looked back towards the cave’s occupants. Yes, the trio were still there. Standing up casually, he yawned and made his way towards the cave mouth as nonchalantly as he could manage.
“Where are you going?” Kurama asked without looking up from his work.
“Please don’t leave. Tell him he can’t leave,” Gakushu begged.
Kurama moved closer to the cave entrance and drew his short sword, sitting against the rock face so he could see anything oncoming.
“Keep guard here,” Hammer Strike instructed as he left the cave. “I’ll be back soon.”
“We will be waiting, Hammer Strike Sama,” Haku said.
“Did any of you mention the change in his eye color?” Gakushu asked as he moved about, keeping an eye on the entrance while he put a makeshift kettle on the fire to boil.
Hammer Strike focused on the faint trail in the snow beneath him, following it towards a familiar environment. He frowned as he took note of where the trail was ending, but the sight of other Kitsunes only brought more confusion. From what Kurama stated, a search party wouldn’t be formed for another two years, and then they had to track down where they were.
“Haku, get to the center of the group. Something feels wrong,” a three-tailed rusty-red Kitsune male instructed.
Hammer Strike frowned, but before he could say anything he heard Haku respond, a spectral image of him moving through him towards the other Kitsune.
“Y-yes, Himura Sensei,” Haku said as he crept towards the center, his eyes darting warily between the trees.
After a moment, Hammer Strike was able to note that all of the Kitsune around him that he could see were faintly transparent. He saw Gakushu in the center holding a tree branch as he stood at the side of an older white furred five tailed Kitsune. The older Kitsune held a familiar satchel and wore a tall cap.
Several of the older Kitsunes drew their weapons. Curved blades and naginatas glinted in the sunlight as the warriors formed a loose perimeter around several other adults and the youngsters. A deep orange adult smiled warmly at Kurama. “Don’t worry. Just watch and learn, nephew.”
It was just as those words left his mouth that they came. The sun was covered by blackened clouds. The winds picked up and the temperature dropped as six Windigos galloped into the clearing. The head stallion snorted indignantly at the Kitsunes and was answered by a howl of smoke and fire from the lead warrior. The Windigos seemed to backtrack for a moment, but only a moment before they charged the group.
One warrior managed to get a first strike, lashing out with a massive fireball that proceeded to cause the spectral horses to vanish in a whirlwind. The victory, however, was short lived as the warrior was overcame by another Windigo. The battle quickly turned out of favor for the Kitsune as they were trampled, frozen, or even, to Hammer Strike’s horror, suffocated as the air was ripped from their very lungs and their fires extinguished. The warriors were cut down in short order. What few scholars remained pushed the children behind them towards the trees to keep them safe as the two remaining warriors fought to protect them. One male wielding a naginata kept the Windigos at a distance with the white heat of his blade while the one Hammer Strike identified as Kurama’s uncle fought with his long sword, which was wreathed in solid blue flames. The spear wielder went down as one Windigo charged him head on, impaling itself on the spear, but the force of the charge tore the spearhead off and sent it flying. He was soon trampled as two others moved in on him. These creatures may well have been spirits, but they could clearly interact with the physical plane just as easily as they could the astral.
Kurama’s uncle fought the oncoming tide alone. Strike after strike forced them back, causing them to lose ground. From his outside perspective, Hammer Strike easily recognised the tactics the Windigos were employing as they forced the Kitsune to slowly turn his back to the leader. The moment the tactic was complete, the male Windigo dove into the Kitsune’s chest and pulled back out, trailing a flimsy white substance. The further it pulled, the more the Kitsune gasped, struggling for air. The Windigo was suffocating him. Slowly. In one last dying act, the warrior turned and slashed, his blade tearing through the Windigo’s ethereal body moments before the flames died out and both were no more. What hammerstrike watched next was a massacre. The remaining scholars attempting to fight back with their foxfire were easily overwhelmed by the remaining onslaught. Kurama noticed the naginata head on the ground and grabbed it. The moment he lowered his head, Gakushu took an errant blast of pure cold air to the face. Kurama instantly righted himself, moving to a sloppy sword stance as he tried to put himself between the other two, even as Haku let out a low cry.
“S-stay back!” Kurama shouted, blasting a pathetic fireball. From there, everything was as Hammer Strike remembered it. Everyone began to fade as he watched himself charge into the battle. He cringed as he closed his eyes, pain flooding his head as soon as everything finished fading. He sat down, taking a moment to let the throbbing subside. After a few moments he sighed and opened his eyes once more. Everything was as it was, and as it should be. He shook his head and turned around to double check. There was nothing different here. Making his way back to the cave, he was greeted with the sight of Kurama standing guard. He shook his head towards the Kitsunes. “Nothing. We’re fine.”
“For now anyway,” Kurama said as he sheathed the blade and returned to working on the naginata. “There is no good wood around here for the shaft. This might work in a pinch, but nothing is springy enough. What I wouldn’t give for some bamboo right now.”
“I’ll help you find better materials when we have somewhere more than just a cave to settle in.”
“Is there any way that we may assist, Hammer Strike Sama?” Haku asked.
“Not much for now. Starting tomorrow I’ll be collecting wood. If you really want to help, you can help me clear the branches off the trees.”
“Anything, so long as we can be of use.”
While the others worked to winnow the branches off the frozen boughs of the trees, Gakushu approached Hammer Strike, brush and ink in hand. He pointed to himself. “Gakushu.” He waited for Hammer Strike to respond. If he was going to teach, he was going to start at the beginning.
“I learned your name ages ago,” Hammer Strike replied, only to frown for a moment. “And you don’t understand much Equish in the first place…” he muttered to himself.
Gakushu frowned. “Ga-kus-hu.” He pointed to himself again, then pointed at Hammer Strike. “We start at the start.”
“I can’t tell if I should feel insulted or not…” Hammer Strike sighed, rubbing his head. “Yes, Gakushu.”
“Is there a problem, Hammer Strike Sama?” Haku asked.
“I learn drastically differently from how you’re all trying to teach me. It’s going to take a while if we go about this method of me learning your language.”
“What are you …?” Haku turned to face Gakushu and the light dawned. “Gakushu, how do you expect to teach him if you cannot understand his responses in the first place?”
“I was going to point at other objects after he said my name. I would then hope he would say the object's name in his language. Start small and grow. We have a lot of free time.”
Haku sighed and shook his head. “Gakushu, you need to explain that to him before you try it.” He turned to face the Pony. “Gakushu is trying to teach you the rudiments of our language and is hoping that you may do the same for him.”
“I don’t learn by a game of point and repeat, I’m sorry to say.” Hammer Strike hummed. “What other languages do you know? Do you speak Draconic? Perhaps even, wait, no, that place doesn’t exist yet,” Hammer Strike muttered the last part to himself.
“The Dragons hoard their language as closely as they do their treasures. While the Eastern Dragons of our lands are kinder and wiser than their Western counterparts, we have yet to reach that kind of understanding with them.”
“Well, at least I have a language you can’t understand either,” Hammer Strike said in Draconic, then let loose a sigh.
“If that method is not conducive to your learning, how would you prefer to learn? Gakushu is frustrated being the only one who cannot communicate properly with you.”
“Have him list words and sentence structures, then you translate them. I will read it while you sleep and we can work on pronouncing things when you’re all awake.”
“It seems reasonable. I will see what Gakushu thinks.” Turning to his friend, a somewhat heated conversation followed by a brief nod led to a smiling Haku. “He accepts, under one condition. He asks that you assist him by pronouncing the words aloud for him when he is present so that he may associate the sounds with the words. He reads your language well, but the ability to speak yet eludes him.”
“I’ll accept these terms.”
“Then it is decided. We will begin tomorrow, and Gakushu will draw up the list tonight for you to review.”
“Did he agree, Haku?”
“Yes, Gakushu, he agreed. You begin tonight. Draw up the list and he will study it in preparation for tomorrow. Don’t forget the sounds so he can say them aloud.”
“I shall get started on the list. This is going to be fun. I get to teach.”
“And learn,” Haku added dryly.
Hammer Strike rolled his shoulders, having just finished a foundation for their house-to-be. He smiled as he looked at the materials he had in place. All he had to do was place things where they were needed and ensure proper insulation of the house.
Haku cocked his head as he stared at the structure. “I believe we will require some moss, Hammer Strike Sama.”
“Just Hammer Strike,” he replied tiredly. “And what makes you say that?”
“It acts as insulation against the cold.”
“Well, that is one method, but there are other ways.”
“What other ways?” he asked curiously.
“You’ll see them once I make them.” Hammer Strike chuckled as he moved towards the segments he had laid off to the side.
“As long as it’s warmer than that goddess damned cave,” Kurama said as he split another log with the crudely made axe Hammer Strike had fashioned days ago. “I’m certain Gakushu nearly froze last night.”
“I’ll apply some more power to the fire from now on,” Hammer Strike promised, grabbing a wall segment.
“Kurama, please. You know the elders would have us show more respect to the goddess’s name.”
“Well when we get back, the elders can punish me, Haku, but for now, we are on the other side of the planet!” Kurama snapped.
“... I miss them, too, you know,” Haku said. Afterwards, he attacked his task, tying the makeshift bindings Hammer Strike had fashioned from roots he’d managed to dig up after thawing the earth. His paw pads had been worn raw, but he continued to work.
Meanwhile Gakushu was using a rock and some charcoal to draw up what he thought would be a good looking building. Inevitably, it took on the appearance of a pagoda-like structure with slanted roof and terracotta roof tiles.
Hammer Strike paused in his work as he looked around himself suddenly, his eyes trailing over things in the air around the group.
“What’s wrong with your eye?” Kurama asked him. “It keeps glowing purple”
“And it is right now?” He asked.
“Yes.” Kurama nodded.
Hammer Strike looked at the wooden walls that surrounded him, a fireplace and small pieces of furniture were in the room as well. “If only you could see what I can right now,” he replied as he watched an image of himself walk into the room and add more wood to the fireplace. He watched as everything shook for a moment. A table to his side collapsed. The image of himself frowned heavily as he looked to the table only to pause as a thoughtful look crossed his face. After a few moments he brought a hoof up and began to move it across the room before settling on a singular spot. Right where the present Hammer Strike was. His image gave a small smile and a wave before everything began to fade once more.
“What is it?” Kurama asked him.
“Something that is to come.”
“What is he saying?” Gakushu asked.
“He claims to be seeing a vision of the future,” Haku explained.
“If he is, then he must be blessed by the goddess. It is a blessing for us to have been saved by him,” Gakushu muttered in awe.
“The elders say the future is too fluid to be seen,” Kurama reminded them.
“But what if it is a less fluid moment?” Haku asked. “After all, even the mighty rivers flow into tiny pools where their song is sweet and soft, and their surfaces are made clear.”
“It is time, Haku. The river must surrender to the slope of the mountain, but even we are subject to time. Even those who it cannot wear down must feel its flow.”
“Why can’t it be both?”
“You’re the scholar. You’re supposed to figure it out. I’m just repeating what we’ve been told.”
“But… his eye glows. Magic is involved. Pony magic is still not very well understood,” Gakushu replied. “We need to keep this phenomenon under observation.” He flinched. “That is, If you two think it wise to do so.”
“There is also the fact that this is the mysterious Hammer Strike. He is an enigma both magically, logically, and historically.”
“Are you three done talking behind my back?” Hammer Strike questioned as he finished placing the third wall segment.
“I apologize, Hammer Strike. We lapsed into our native tongue. We were theorizing how it is magically possible for you to actually look into the future,” Haku said.
“Magically, it’s not possible,” Hammer Strike replied with a shrug. A moment later, both eyes shifted from their usual blue to a deep purple. “What I use is something much more interesting.”
“What did he say?” Gakushu asked.
“He said he uses a different power, something that doesn’t stem from magic,” Haku replied. He turned to Hammer Strike. “Do you mind if I keep a record while we are together?”
“We have to record this then, I have, we never heard anything like this. We have to record this,” Gakushu chittered excitedly.
“I don’t mind, but I will be keeping some information to myself,” Hammer Strike replied with a shrug.
Week 2, Day 2
With hard work and a lot of elbow grease, the house was nearly finished. The day had drawn on to afternoon, and hammerstrike was working on some of the final touches. Kurama sat with his back to the house, sharpening his blades in the setting sun. Gakushu was working on a flat piece of slate as he wrote more sentences and words for the strange lessons he shared with Hammer Strike. Haku stared at the sun as it began to drop over the snow and returned to his brush and paper switching between a stout, thick bristled brush and a finer, slim one. He sighed occasionally, his breath steaming in the wind.
“Does this damned cold ever let up?” Kurama growled as he worked. Sparks flew from the blade as he continued to run the whet stone over it.
“I fear that this is something connected to those ice spirits,” Gakushu muttered. “I still feel cold in my limbs from that attack.”
“It is likely. You can feel the magic in the air. It is … oppressive.” Haku sighed as he added a few gentle strokes. “How close are we, Hammer Strike?”
“Not that much longer. Just need to finish stabilizing the supports.”
“Do you require assistance?”
“I’d prefer you not, as if this falls down on me, I can shrug it off.”
“As you desire.”
“We’ll need to hunt soon, but is there anything living plant or animal in this goddess forsaken wasteland?” Kurama asked.
“I hope so. I am getting hungry for fresh meat, and hopefully they are not infected or infested by those icy spirits,” Gakushu muttered.
“Ask Hammer Strike. He might know the area,” Haku said without looking up from his work.
“Ask me what?” Hammer Strike questioned.
Kurama looked to Haku and growled when he didn’t say anything. He then promptly turned to Hammer Strike, his tone sharp. “Is there anything still alive here? The rations are fine, but we should hunt fresh meat soon.”
“I saw some small game north of the house,” Hammer Strike replied simply, followed shortly by a solid thud. “And that should be it. Stable structure.”
“Very well,” Kurama said. “Let's see if this forest at least has something to make an acceptable bow.”
“Look for some hickory. It’s a taller tree, dark, with an overlay in the bark. It should be fine enough for now. There are other materials, but if you can mark one of them, I can go and get it later when I have the time to make it.”
“Okay,” Kurama said. Putting his whetstone away, he headed into the forest with his naginata held tight.
“He should be alright, right?” Haku asked.
“What’s going on? Where is Kurama going?” Gakushu asked. Worry wrinkled his brow as his tail twitched nervously.
“He has gone in search of wood for a bow.”
“What we need is a snare. I don’t care about the hunt. We need food. This is the worst winter in my memory,” Gakushu muttered.
“It is the worst in any memory, Gakushu,” Haku replied.
“You know, I just finished the structure. You can both move your conversation inside a place with proper insulation and a working fireplace,” Hammer Strike commented as he casually opened the door to the new house.
.
Gakushu gave Hammer Strike a blank stare. He caught maybe two words. Fire. Okay, maybe just one word.
“House finished, Get inside,” Hammer Strike tried again.
Gakushu started, then stared back at the Pony. “Thank you.” He cleared his throat. “Thank you?” He stood up and quickly moved to enter the house.
“You are progressing very well. I barely detected an accent,” Haku complimented Hammer Strike.
“Give me a while. When I know a majority of the language, I’ll be able to do more than just small sentences,” Hammer replied.
“I assume it will take a few more weeks before you reach that point, but I am certain the others are looking forward to it,” Haku said as he gathered his supplies.
“I know Gakushu is.”
“I still do not understand how you could make use of that many lists. There are only so many hours in a day.”
“I’m a quick learner.”
Haku shrugged, then entered the cabin. It was simple in nature, hardwood floors, a support pillar, and a stone-encased fireplace off to the side, burning away at the fuel Hammer Strike had somehow provided without the foxes noticing. A few crude tables and chairs had been added to the location for at least some small sense of normalcy. Hammer Strike sighed. “I still need to get the materials for a bed, but that can come later. At least we have an insulated, warm building to rest in. That’s what matters.”
Week 6, Day 4
Gakushu sat at the desk with a stone on the table as he let his imagination run wild. Familiar buildings slowly took shape as his sooty paw worked at the paper. He giggled to himself as he relished in the warmth of the cabin. Older huts with terracotta tile roofs gave way to something … different. Newer buildings towered upwards, their bodies a mixture of metal and glass, a work of structural art. Was it functional? Probably not. But it was artistic. He looked up and blinked blearily at the fireplace before returning to his work.
Kurama entered the house with a cursory grunt. Several small rabbits had been tied to a rope around his waist. He promptly set down near the fire and began to clean them with a flint knife. “Is everything alright, Gakushu?” he asked as he tossed the inedible organs into the fire while he worked.
“Yes. I am trying to plan, and well, continue the training my Sensei was giving me. I was supposed to help plan out a city on one of the newer islands.”
“Gakushu, why do you never call him father?” Kurama asked after a deep breath. “Even when you were his student, you have never acknowledged him as your parent.”
“Because father….” His voice caught in his throat. “Because he always asked me to treat him as a teacher when we were in our lessons. You never were home or over visiting much. I … actually used to call him father all the time. I … I miss him, Kurama. And Sensei is ... it is how I cope right now. I cannot … I cannot ...”
“Very well, Gakushu. I won’t push you.” Kurama sighed as he looked at his quarry. “No vegetation means thin rabbits, sadly. There is barely any meat on these.”
“At least it is fresh, which is what I am craving.” Gakushu frowned as he looked at the table. “I do miss him. Sometimes I feel like I am going to walk into a room and there he will be, sitting at the table working and smiling before calling me over to show me his newest project. I saved his plans, you know. They are stored in the chest Hammer Strike Sama gave me.”
“You were lucky to have him,” Kurama said as he worked. “I was the youngest of twelve, with my oldest brother seventy years older than me. If not for my uncle, I’d probably have been left to waste.”
“Well when we get back I am going to have you as my main bodyguard. You can be my samurai protector,” Gakushu promised. “I am going to be traveling, after all, and the plans I have might not be popular at first. And, well… my family always has a protector when we journey to gather information.”
“You do me far too much honor, Gakushu,” Kurama said. “I have already failed as a protector.”
“You were willing to give your life to protect us. That is not failure, nor is it weakness,” Haku piped up at last. He pressed forward to the pair. “To think like that is weakness when most would flee from what you faced bravely, and what they faced.” Haku thrust out an arm, revealing the scroll he had been painting on for the last five weeks. “They died with honor, and they shall be remembered with honor.” The painting was surprisingly accurate. There the party stood, each smiling. Kurama’s uncle waved cheerfully. Gakushu’s father nodded approvingly, scroll and brush in hand. The other warriors laughed as they circled the party while historians clung to their brush kits and charcoal. The cherry trees that surrounded them were in full bloom as a few gentle strokes simulated wind carrying the petals over the mountains. A great cloud had been painted underneath them, and their fur was unmarred by the passing of years. “It is not much, I know, but I hope it is … suitable.”
“It, It is amazing.” Gakushu whispered in awe. Tears beaded in his eyes.
“It is truly beautiful, Haku,” Kurama said.
“I … wished to remember them somehow. Until we can return home again, I thought this would be the best way.” Grabbing his bag, Haku pulled out two sticks of incense and complimenting holders and placed them on the mantle of the fireplace.
A thud interrupted the group as a saw blade made it’s way through a segment of the northern wall and slowly began to trail downwards.
“... You know, I feel like I should be surprised by this, but for some reason, I am not anymore,” Haku said. “Hammer Strike is an … interesting being.”
“I worry what he could do if we were to commission him to build a palace for our nine-tailed emperor. The building might never cease, even if we were to build to the very heavens themselves,” Gakushu muttered softly.
“He does it to fill his mind,” Kurama said.
Eventually the blade made it’s way across both sides, and the section of wall was pulled back, revealing a new segment to the home. Hammer Strike stood there placing the segment against another wall. He rolled his shoulders and muttered something about making a needle and thread to fix up his dress shirt. His coat lay neatly folded inside the first segment on top of one of the roughhewn tables.
“What is this section for?” Gakushu asked, expecting one of his other friends to translate the question for him.
“Storage.” Hammer Strike replied simply.
“Have you thought about building a mine, Hammer Strike?” Kurama asked as he studied the quickly dulling flint knife.
“What do you believe I do when you are all asleep?”
“Have you found any ore yet?” Kurama asked. In equestrian this time.
“Small amounts of copper, iron, and sadly a decent sum of gold ore.” Hammer Strike frowned.
“May I take a look at the iron? Perhaps I will be able to find something to make a more suitable knife with,” Kurama said.
“How trained are you in smithing?”
“When one takes up the warrior’s mantle in our country, one must learn to create weapons and tools before one may actually possess them, unless they are inherited. Technically, I should not have these, but I can make a suitable knife.”
“I could teach you a few things if you’d like. I’ve been smithing for most of my life now,” Hammer Strike offered.
“I ... I would appreciate that.” Kurama bowed his head.
“Hope you’re prepared for the amount of work I do in one sitting. Only time it took me longer than a day was when I was shaping a material that broke seven anvils.” Hammer Strike chuckled.
“Seven?” Haku’s eyes widened. “What earthly substance could possibly manage to break seven anvils in the crafting?”
“The bones of an Ursa Major.”
“What about an Ursa Major?” Gakushu asked. “I recognize the word, but what is it?”
“That’s impossible. An Ursa Major is nigh unkillable. Why, its vitals alone are practically impossible to reach. It towers to the very heavens themselves. Its pelt is like diamond. Not even you could have killed such a creature unassisted, Hammer Strike.”
“My… student at the time took care of it.”
“This student sounds like a fearsome warrior indeed,” Kurama said, nodding.
Haku turned to Gaushu and quickly explained what they had been discussing.
“We get some good sparring matches.” Hammer Strike nodded. “Only time we can both really let loose in a fight...”
Gakushu fell off his chair at hearing the news, especially when the legendary smith said only he and his apprentice could fight one another at full strength. His eye twitched as he muttered one phrase. “I must see this armor. I must see this beast.”
“One day you will,” Hammer Strike replied.
Week 9, Day 2
Gakushu looked out the window, confused. Both ears twitched and he spoke without turning his head. “Haku… I think something is out there. I feel like we are being watched, and I cannot stay warm again. Something is out there, and it is turning my blood to ice.”
“Windigo?” Haku hissed.
“I know not. But I fear it has no honorable intentions.”
“Should I go out and scout?” Kurama asked, already reaching for his naginata.
“NO!” Gakushu shouted in Equish. “No. Please, don’t leave me. What if you go out and they come in?”
“Nothing will get past me, Gakushu. I swear on the tails of my ancestors.”
“At least wait for Hammer Strike, Kurama. He should be back from the mine soon,” Haku said.
“Soon may not be soon enough,” Kurama noted. “But if it’s truly your wish, I will wait.”
“Can you not set up a defense?” Gakushu shivered. “Please, drive it away.”
“We can try to invoke the goddess’ blessing, but I don’t know if it will work. We are still so very young,” Haku said. “I wish Hammer Strike were here.”
Whatever was outside, its presence soon faded. Another figure was making its way towards the house, a heavy wooden container on his back. Hammer Strike muttered to himself as he carried a decent sized load of wood and ore he’d harvested. Something else was out in the woods, but it ran off before he could get close enough to figure out what it was.
“Hammer Strike,” Gakushu shouted from the window. “Something is out there and found the cabin!”
“I know. I’ll set up things later for it,” Hammer Strike called back in response.
“Thank the goddess,” Haku said fervently.
“Perhaps we should light some perimeter fires, Haku. If it was a creature of the ice, that should help ward them off,” Kurama said.
“True. Though we would need to keep them burning. That might prove difficult after a time.”
Hammer Strike entered the room, and then moved towards the fireplace, intent on stacking the wood off to the side.
“Perhaps we could try some spell notes? They could prove adequate wards, or at least warnings while the fires burn,” Haku said.
“I’ll lay some traps that will activate by Windigo magic in a moment,” Hammer Strike said.
“May I observe?” Haku asked.
“Sure.”
Haku grinned. “I am curious to see how you are able to channel magic when so few of your particular tribe can.”
“I’ll be doing something other than just magic. Come on,” Hammer Strike said, placing his pack on the ground and moved towards the door. A few moments later, Haku raced after him, brush and scroll in hand.
Hammer Strike took several steps outside before stopping as his eyes shifted to a familiar purple. “Okay … change of plans.” By now he had finally figured out what was going on. After accidentally using whatever the device was that brought him to this time, it had altered his thaumic field, filling it with the unique aspect of time itself. His field was burning off the energy at random, clearing it from his system while using it. The interesting part of this strange process was the fact it gave him the ability to see brief moments in time both past and future.
In front of him he could see three Windigos. Behind him he saw Kurama, Haku, and Gakushu, each preparing for the worst. Kurama looked particularly battered. He frowned as he watched himself casually walk out of the building with a smile before saying something to the trio. It was at that moment that something different happened. Everything stopped in the vision.
“... Hammer Strike?” Haku asked nervously.
“One moment, Haku. I want to... try something,” he said, looking back to the Windigos only he could see. He wondered to himself if he could do more with time than just look.
His hoof ignited in orange fire that slowly shifted to a dark purple. He brought his hoof forward and pushed three balls of fire towards the images, stopping it in the center of their being. The reaction was instant as the vision continued. The Windigos shrieked before the growing flame that consumed them.
“Well I think I just settled that,” Hammer Strike said, somewhat unsure of himself.
“What did you just do?” Haku asked, trembling somewhat. “That fire … what … what was that?”
“Something more than just fire, and if this plays out correctly, you’ll see its power.”
“... When?”
“No idea.”
Haku just stared. “N-nani?”
Week 12 Day 6
Gakushu looked at the table and frowned at the stew cooking on the fire. Haku and Kurama were both off doing goddess knew what, and he was stuck in the house trying to handle the nuances of Equish. He knew he had to work harder, but he felt like he was hitting a wall in his studies. He turned to the tanned hide as he worked on his drawing, labeling each object both in Equish and Naponese before repeating the words aloud. He looked back at his previous side projects. He didn’t even know why he drew those tall ugly buildings. They would never work. No one would want to have a house that could be seen into from the outdoors. Besides that, it would be too open to attack should their warding spells fail. At last, he returned to the more traditional building schematics of his home land.
The door opened as Hammer Strike entered, carrying more firewood to add to a stockpile that they had been making. He muttered faint things to himself as he moved to stack them. “Hey.”
“How do you learn so fast?” Gakushu frowned. “It makes it feel almost like I am the unneeded wheel a merchant took with him.”
“Everyone learns differently. Perhaps we should try another method with you.I learn fast because, in most cases, if I learned slowly I would have made plenty of mistakes.”
“What manner do you suggest we try?” Gakushu asked.
“Rather than read and attempt, why not try true lessons, somewhat like how you tried to teach me long ago?”
“It was only three months ago. A long time ago would be if we were fifty years.” Gakushu gave a barely perceptible smirk as his tail twitched playfully.
“Any amount of time can be considered long, Gakushu. It doesn’t help that you miss out on half a day while I do not.”
“You scare me.”
“I scare everyone.” Hammer Strike frowned.
“I don’t want to be scared of you, Hammer.”
“As long as you aren’t against me, you have nothing to fear. My wrath is for those who would harm my friends and family.”
“Why would I be against the stallion who saved me?”
“You’d be surprised.” Hammer Strike frowned. “Did Haku finish the blue thread that I requested?”
“I know not. I think it was in the workshop you added on last month.”
“Good. I’d really like to patch up my coat. I may not use it for warmth, but I like the extra pockets, and… it reminds me of a few things.”
Then the door opened and a cold draft blew through the halls.
“Honestly, Kurama, you’re pushing yourself too hard. You need to take a break from time to time,” Haku said as the pair passed through the door and into the warmth of their new home.
“I am not a scholar,” Kurama told him as he closed the door again. “I have been raised to survive on little rest. Do not worry for me. I will be fine.”
“At least have some soup. Little rest is one thing. Little nourishment is another.”
“You and Gakushu finish first. I will have what's left.”
“I already ate,” Gakushu said calmly as he worked on the rough outlines of a pagoda.
“See? And there is plenty more. Let me serve you a bowl.”
“...Very well,” Kurama sighed.
Pleased with his victory, Haku whistled to himself as he ladled a serving into the rough wooden bowls they had carved from the surrounding trees. Thanks to Hammer Strike, it had been easy to break them down. He laid it down in front of his friend before returning to take his own serving. “How long have you been performing those exercises Hammer Strike gave you now anyways?” he asked as he took his seat.
“Once in the morning after katas and once in the evening before night watch,” Kurama said, eating slowly.
“That is good,” Haku said absently as he stirred the stew with a makeshift spoon before letting out a heavy sigh. “I miss home.”
“They won’t forget you,” Kurama promised.
“I do not fear being forgotten. I am merely … homesick. Aren’t you?” he asked, motioning to his companions.
“I have no home to return to,” Kurama pointed out.
“I shall adopt you as my brother,” Gakushu answered with conviction.
Haku’s head snapped up, his gaze determined. “Let us make a pact. The three of us. No matter what path we may choose on the road of life, we will all be each other’s family.”
“A pact for a thousand years.” Kurama chuckled dryly.
“Longer, should the goddess permit,” Haku said as he extended a paw.
“I agree to this pact. We shall be each other’s family.” Gakushu’s look was stern and unyielding as he added his own paw.
Kurama silently added his own paw to the others.
“With the goddess as our witness, this pact is binding. From this day forward, we are brothers, and will share in all that we do, all that we have, and all that we are.” A dim glow emanated from each of the Kitsune’s paws as their magical auras blended to create a ball of fire streaked with orange, red, and violet. It danced there for a time as the three stared before it disappeared with a light pop and the sound of tinkling laughter. The scent of fresh grain and rice filled the room for a brief moment, and then it was gone.
Gakushu’s eyes widened in shock, his pupils practically the size of his nose. He looked to the others silently, his muzzle slightly open.
“... It appears she has accepted our pact,” Haku said slowly before letting loose an explosive breath.
“So let it be,” Kurama said, trying his best to hide the awe in his face, though he could do little to hide it from his voice.
“Oddest thing I’ve seen so far,” Hammer Strike muttered in Draconic.
Week 18 day 4
“Ha!” Kurama shouted as he swung his naginata at an invisible opponent. The darkness around him was illuminated only by the orange fire that wreathed the blade. To the outside observer the movements would seem graceful, calculated, smooth. To Kurama, all he could see was the swing going inches too high or centimeters too low, or not being quick enough on the reprieve. The Kitsune growled to himself as he started the katas again. Perfection was to be the only option.
Gakushu tossed and turned in his bed, his sleep uneasy as he lashed in his sheets. He moaned, but he didn’t wake. Trapped within the realm between dreams and waking, the land of nightmares stretched across his consciousness. He was once again in the meadow. The Windigos swarmed around them, but this time, this time their party was winning. Gakushu prepared to cheer before a sudden blast of cold struck him. He watched a frigid blue welt rise from his fur. Cold flooded through his body and he shivered where he stood as he bent to pick up a branch. A small flame ignited at its tip as he waved it about to try to scare away the monsters. His vision began to swim. His body continued to tremble. He felt feverish, but he had to keep fighting. It was either that, or die.
Suddenly, one of the creatures appeared to his left. Where had it come from? He waved the stick at it and it nimbly pranced aside on the wind. Gakushu stared in surprise. The stick had moved so slowly. Why? His arms … they felt … sluggish, heavy. He watched the stick fall, the little flame freezing into crystal as he dropped to his knees. The cold was gone. The air around him almost felt warm. A sudden wind picked up, whirling around him. It raced through his fur, bent back his ears, and flowed over the welt. As it did so, pain like nothing he had ever felt before flooded his system. The welt consumed his fur, spreading like the morning frost he had seen so many times in the window of their little cottage each morning. He looked down to see his fingers and paws clench together and slowly coalesce, darkening into thick, solid hooves. He watched the ghostly fetlocks grow, felt his neck twist and snap as it lengthened and expanded, felt the wind whip at his fur and cause it to lengthen around his neck and down his back. His robes tore under the increasing pressure of his rapidly changing body. Then he felt them. Standing next to him. Side to side. All together. Just like him. Looking down, he found himself standing on all four insubstantial hooves in the air. A guttural growl rose in his throat, but emerged as a whinny. He felt anger. He felt hunger. He felt want. His eyes locked on two small, defenseless kits, their eyes wide with terror as they clung to one another for comfort. Fear. He felt it, and he … he reveled in it, fed on it. He felt what little was left of his face contort into a sneer as he reared into the air and promptly charged. The air was filled with screams.
Gakushu sat up, tearing the blanket in half with paw, claws, and teeth as he screamed in terror. His eyes were wide as the full moon as his gaze darted nervously back and forth, back and forth across the room. He couldn’t stop. The screaming continued, stopping only for him to take a quick breath before continuing at the top of his lungs. He began to hyperventilate, panting out of control as his screams gradually grew hoarse. They were there. Everywhere. He could see them all around him, lurking in the shadows, skittering with every snow flurry, bringing the cold, calling to him, hunting him.
The door burst open as Kurama rushed in with his wakizashi in hand. “Gakushu, are you alri–?” He dropped the blade to the floor as he saw the look on his friend's face before moving over to him and surrounding him in his warm arms. “Are you alright?” Kurama’s voice was calmer this time. He gently wrapped his paws around Gakushu.
“Stay away,” Gakushu said raspily. “Stay away before I turn you as well. They are coming. They are here. They … they want me. They want me.…” He wept uncontrollably. “Let me go!” He struggled, squirming in Kurama’s grip. “Don’t you understand? If I leave, they will follow me. You all will be safe. They just want me!” he cried.
Kurama held on all the tighter. “They will have to kill me to get to you,” he said.
“But I don’t want you dead. I don’t want anyone dead. You are too precious, too important. You can take my things when the rescue comes, but I am the most expendable of the party.”
“The warrior is always the most expendable,” Kurama chided. “Even if it is not valuable to you, your life is valuable to me.”
“But they already hurt me. I feel like a part of me is no longer me. They know where I am, and that makes me a danger, the weak stone in the wall. You have to let me go.” Once more, Gakushu renewed his struggles.
“Goddess, Gakushu, if I can’t save you and Haku, then what good am I?” Tears pooled in Kurama’s eyes as he held his friend close. “Ple-please don’t leave me. I don’t want to be worthless.”
“But I could kill all of you. Is that a threat you want to take, a risk to our mission? How many others did they send out to this land to find out why this winter is lasting? How many of them are gone? How many got turned into those things or became food for later? This winter is the greatest threat, not just to this land, but all the world!”
“Don’t be foolish, Gakushu. You're not a threat. You’ll never be one of them. You're far too good for that.”
“How can you be sure?” Gakushu whined. His struggles had weakened, and his body shook with horrified sobs. “How can you be sure?”
“Because we’ve been friends since we were cubs!”
“But I don’t even trust myself right now. I … I felt like I was changing in that nightmare. I was becoming one of them. I … I attacked two kits. … I attacked you.”
“You attacked in a dream, Gakushu. It wasn’t real,” Haku said as he entered the room. His eyes were puffy from lack of sleep as he rubbed against them with a free paw. He took a seat on the other side of the bed and placed an arm around Gakushu’s shoulders, adding his own support and body heat to the group. “We made a pact, Gakushu. The three of us. We are brothers now, and we will remain brothers through the best and the worst.” He laid his other free paw on top of Gakushu’s clenched fists.
“I don’t want to hurt my brothers. I … I never had brothers before. Please ... just please. I want my family. I want you. But I cannot risk hurting you.”
“We always risk hurting the ones we love, Gakushu. It’s a risk we’re willing to take,” Haku said.
“I ... I will try to remember that. It is just .... I do not know who I shall be. I fear when I return my family name will be considered dead. My father was the last of our line. The fire sickness took the rest.” He took a deep breath. This time, his voice didn’t catch. “Do you think Hammer Strike Sama would be willing to be adopted?”
“You can ask him tomorrow,” Kurama said “For now, try and get some sleep. We will protect you.”
“All through the night,” Haku promised.
”Th… Thank you. I shall… I shall try to get some sleep. That, or I might try to learn something. I feel as if my heart is about to burst. I fear going back to sleep.”
“Whatever you want, Gakushu. Whatever you want.”
Week 20, Day 3
Kurama’s naginata was a blur of motion as the young Kitsune worked on his technique. Every motion was thought out, fluid, calculated as he moved against his invisible opponent with a finely honed ferocity. The blade glowed brightly with it’s orange wreath of flames.
“You really are very good,” Haku complimented as he emerged from the cabin with a bowl of steaming venison. He offered the dish to his companion and smiled.
“I’m making mistakes.” Kurama sighed. “A weapon is an extension of self. Every movement is supposed to be without question, and I am not achieving that.”
“I … used to read a great deal before I came on this journey. I am no expert, but I believe part of your trouble is that you cannot relax. By overthinking the situation, your body becomes more tense, and it leads to mistakes.”
“I’m fine,” Kurama said as resolutely as he could. It wasn’t very convincing.
“You’ve been pressing yourself, Kurama, and it’s taking its toll on your body. We’re starting to worry,” Haku said bluntly as he took his seat on a nearby stump.
“A true samurai can survive for days on little rest or food. I have had plenty of both.”
“But that is during a mission or campaign. What happens afterwards? Does one not rest and regain one’s health? Pressing for such long periods, if not blessed by the goddess, will lead to death. You cannot be like Hammer Strike Sama. He is very unique, unlike anything I have ever seen,” Gakushu said as he emerged from the wood shed Hammer Strike had built to store and dry their firewood. He laid the armful of logs on the ground before standing next to Haku.
“We are in a campaign, Gakushu!” Kurama snapped. “We are until we no longer have to worry about ice spirits at our door.”
“If Hammer Strike is to be believed, that will not happen for many years to come, Kurama, even after we leave this place. Working to be a stronger warrior is good, but not if it costs you everything in the process. Hammer Strike and I have been discussing how to defend our home against the Windigos. We believe a combination of his magic and my sealing arts should do the trick to create a warding spell powerful enough to repel them.”
“If warding spells were a definitive solution, Haku, our people would not need warriors. We would not need to fear the tengu swooping down on us from the skies, or the oni in the mountains. Wards fail, haku. And when they do, we must be prepared to fight.”
“Warriors fail, too, Kurama!” Haku snapped as he rose from his seat. The venison had grown cool in the winter air. “If you did not maintain your naginata, it would have fallen to waste by now. If you do not care for your body the same way, then you will waste away instead. All the weapons in the world are useless without the warrior to wield them, no matter how powerful they may be.”
The ground beneath Haku’s feet began to sizzle and crack as the snow melted to slush. A similar phenomenon surrounded Kurama as the two stared each other down. A cold wind wailed as it passed through the trees, stirring up the snowflakes from the snowdrifts and striking them against the two Kitsunes’ faces.
“For the last time, Haku, I am FINE!” Kurama shouted as the two closed the distance between one another.
Gakushu shivered, his eyes going wide. “Hammer Strike!” he shouted. “They… They are coming. They are coming!” Then he turned back to the adopted brothers. “Fight them. Not each other.” He lunged to the two boys, trying to separate them with his own body to little effect.
“Enough, Gakushu. This is between me and Kurama,” Haku growled.
Those monsters are coming. Can’t you feel it? Those monsters are coming here!”
The grey clouds darkened, casting a shadow over the clearing as the two stared each other down and Gakushu struggled to keep things calm. Flurries began to eddy around the trio and Gakushu shuddered, clutching to the furs Hammer Strike had tanned for him to wear.
Kurama broke the standoff with Haku to scan the area. “Get inside,” he growled as he flourished the naginata.
“You’re in no condition to fight,” Haku said, easily switching to Equish.
“And Gakushu is freezing. Get him inside. I’ll be fine!”
“I’m not leaving you alone,” Haku said. Suddenly the fires surrounding the property diminished, then died with a pathetic sputter. The shrill whinny of the wind spirit echoed through the air. With a sudden explosive column of wind and snow, the creature made contact on the earth, its ethereal mane flowing behind it with the cold bit of frost and ice crystals. Frigid fire burned in its eyes as it bore down on the trio.
Growling, Kurama charged, sweeping his hand to circle him and the beast in orange flames. The Kitsune impatiently moved forward with a chop. The Windigo side stepped. Kurama followed with a upward slice, which, once again, the Windigo dodged easily. Angry, Kurama shifted his stance, hardening his form as he concentrated his power into his upper body and arms. With one swift movement he lunged forward in a stab. The Windigo leaped out of the way. No longer content to play with the creature, it responded by blasting the young fox full force in the chest, sending him flying through what little remained of the fire wall and impacting into a tree. The flames sputtered out as Kurama lost consciousness. A fresh coat of frost had covered his orange fur, giving it a silver ruff. The Windigo reared triumphantly as it bore down on him, only for it to explode apart in a puff of steam and water droplets.
“Hooves off,” Haku growled, his paws still sparking as he scanned the clearing carefully before racing to Kurama’s side. “You stupid, stubborn fool.” Tears stood in his eyes as he took a deep breath. “Gakushu, I will require your help. That fireball took a lot out of me.” Even as he said it, his body was shaking from the cold.
“What do you need me to do?”
“Kurama must be revived. Do you remember the basic healing spell Kaede Sensei taught us before we were assigned?”
Gakushu nodded as he slowly raised his paws. Haku mirrored his movements as the pair closed their eyes and placed their hands over Kurama’s chest. A warm, golden glow flowed over the recumbent fox. Haku was sweating as they continued to work until at last, Kurama coughed and opened his eyes.
“Thank the Goddess you are alright,” Gakushu said. “Please, please don’t do that again.”
Haku panted, a tired smile on his face. “Now will you listen?”
“Where?” The orange Kitsune’s eyes widened as he coughed, struggling to rise.
“Gakushu,” Haku said as he shifted to pull one of Kurama’s arms over his shoulders. “Will you take the other side?”
“Okay.” Gakushu shifted to the other side and together, they pulled Kurama to his feet. Together, they stumbled towards the house. As they drew within range of the door, a layer of frost grew over it, caking their boots and hindering their movements. The wind and the snowflakes picked up, biting into their fur and drying their noses. From the edges of the forest, three more Windigos emerged, snorting and tossing their heads as they advanced. They took their time, easing their approach. Their prey was weak, an easy target to feed upon, though the destruction of their herdmate had roused their ire, and it showed as the frost slowly turned to ice, effectively rooting the three Kitsunes to the spot.
“Nowhere to run,” Haku grunted. “Either we fight … or we die.”
“Then we fight,” Gakushu muttered with a peaceful smile.
“What do you say, Kurama? Up for a last battle?” Haku asked.
“I–I won’t go down easy.” The orange Kitsune drew his blade.
The door to the house opened with a loud crack and the tinkling of built up ice falling to the ground as Hammer Strike calmly walked out, looking to the Windigos and the three kits before him. He gave a faint grin in the Windigos’ direction. “Tell me, Haku. Do you remember what I showed you weeks ago?”
“H-Hammer Strike, is this really the time for–?”
The Windigos suddenly contorted, shrieking in pain. Their cries echoed in an eerie three part harmony as a burning purple light slowly pulsed within their barrels, spreading ever so slowly as the light grew stronger. Their forms grew less visible, becoming little more than a dim outline as the flames ate hungrily, consuming the very air and water from which the spirits had been made. Passing like a blight, tongues of flame spread up their necks and into their eyes, changing the color as they looked in horror at the grinning Pony. Then in a last wail, their manes ignited into purple fire, and having burst free of its confines, the purple flames consumed the Windigos’ vital essence until there was nothing left. A few pale embers flickered peacefully on the wind, dancing like snowflakes before they, too, snuffed out, leaving only the silence in their wake.
“... Oh,” Haku said.
Gakushu stammered as he sat down. He couldn’t form words in either language to describe the fear, horror, sorrow, anxiety, and sheer adrenaline that coursed through him. Finally, he settled on just letting the emotions carry over and out as he wept.
Kurama let out a long dry laugh before slumping to the ground, his body completely exhausted.
Gakushu walked slowly towards Hammer Strike as the Pony worked in his forge. He barely felt his feet shuffling as he heard the banging of the hammer upon metal. The vibration of the smith’s carefully calculated strikes ran through his body. In his paws the remnants of Kurama’s naginata lay. They had managed to survive the attack, but unfortunately, Kurama’s pride had taken a great blow, especially with the loss of this precious weapon he had taken from his uncle.
“Yes?” Hammer Strike asked without turning from his work.
“Teach me, Sensei.” His tone was hushed, filled with the urgency of loss, suffering, respect, and, ultimately, a powerful desire. “Teach me so I may become stronger, become an asset to my friends. Kurama’s spear is shattered. I must repair it. I must do something for my brother. Please, Strike Sensei. Please teach me the ways of the forge. I care not if you start me at just the fire, but teach me.” With the strict class systems that had been set up back in Napon, this would have been an unacceptable request. But here, in this strange, new land, those laws held no power. And more importantly, necessity required that they be broken.
Hammer Strike was quiet for a time as he carefully transferred his project off to the side before turning to Gakushu. “You want to learn smithing? Truly?”
“It is far better than just gathering information to be stored in an archive out here. Out here, I must learn to help. You must need an assistant, one to whom you can pass your skills down. I wish to learn the secrets of drawing from the fire and molding ore into tools.”
After a moment Hammer Strike sighed. “I will teach you. On one condition.”
“What?” He paused a moment and closed his eyes. Then he spoke haltingly in Equish. “What is it?”
“Cut back on the formality with me. I don’t care for it, and I have been trying to get Kurama and Haku to cut back on it as well.”
“Then I will only call you Sensei.” The word was perfectly balanced, both respectful and loving. It would likely be the best Hammer Strike could get.
Hammer Strike sighed mentally before nodding his assent. “Alright. We will start tomorrow. You’ll need to be fully rested before we start.”
“As you wish, Sensei,” Gakushu said, taking his time to enunciate each word correctly. He turned around and left.
Week 20 Day 5
Kurama had been drifting in and out of consciousness since he had been laid on the bed. In the brief times when he was awake he was sometimes delirious, and it was hard to talk to him. When he was asleep his body was fitful and tense. When he was lucid he refused to eat more than half the time. If his condition didn’t improve soon, well the others tried not to consider the worst. Haku watched on from his seat next to the bed as kurama slept yet again, though it was far from peaceful as the orange Kitsune tossed and groaned in his sleep.
Kurama snarled as he ran through the cold winter forests. The winds howled, and unspeakable creatures of wind and shadow followed behind him faster than fire could spread on a plane. He clutched the shattered remnants of his naginata, little more than a tiny stub of a stick now as he leapt from branch to branch, planting spell notes as he went along. Each exploded sequentially, causing whinnies and roars of pain to echo across the expanse. Kurama smirked. Good. Maybe now he’d be able to find a way to escape and get back with the others.
He wandered the horizon, lost and alone. He couldn’t hear or smell anything, and the world stretched out before him, empty and lifeless. Was this purgatory? Had Yama put him here for eternity? He felt the wind pick up again as the cries echoed behind. Time for the hunt to resume again. He looked down to his clenching palm. A layer of frost covered his fur, turning it silver as he clutched his final spell note. This was not good.
Dropping the stick, he reached for the wakazashi at his side, only to find the scabbard empty. As the figures approached he attempted to light his embers, but the warmth had gone out of his soul. It seemed that this was it. He had nowhere to run, no means of defense. He was alone. His only hope was that Gakushu and Haku would survive to see their home again.
The creatures came as a great wave. Shadow from beneath, wind and cloud from above. As one, they reared to consume the kit in frozen fear for eternity. Kurama winced, bracing for the blow to come. A fitting end for a failure of a warrior.
“Enough of this!” a familiar voice said.
The cloud blew apart as if it had hit a solid wall, leaving behind nothing but a peaceful snowfall that steadily turned a rosy pink until cherry petals replaced the flakes and familiar trees swayed in a summer breeze, replacing the dank of the winter. Carefully hewn stone rested beneath the kit’s feet as he stared up the pathway to the shrine dedicated to the warrior gods and fallen spirits. Off in the distance the peaceful knell of the temple bell heralded the call to prayer and meditation that came a half hour before training. He knew it all so well.
“A true warrior must find peace within his heart, mind, and spirit before he can truly excel. Is that not the first edict you were taught when you arrived at this temple, Kurama?” The voice was velvety and smooth, well rested, and untouched by the passing years of harsh weather and combat, but Kurama would know it anywhere. A great blue light glowed from the shrine bells before coalescing into the familiar form of Kurama’s uncle. In the stead of his armor and weapons, a warrior’s kimono covered his form. The expression on his face was stern.
“Yes, Sensei.” Kurama’s head fell as he stood before the older Kitsune. “I have tried. So very hard to find it, but...” Kurama could barely keep his voice from cracking as he spoke. “I failed. I failed you, I failed my charges, I failed myself. I have left you with only a legacy of dishonor.” He couldn’t stop the tears as he spoke. “And no matter what I do, I can never make up for that.”
“Did you abandon your post?”
“No,” kurama said.
“Did you kill your charges?”
“I...I–no, Sensei.”
“Have you, in any way, broken the codes and statutes of the warrior as set down by the order of Bushido?”
“I failed,” kurama said. “I was defeated in combat. I didn’t even slow them down.”
“But you fulfilled your oath, as I did. All other facets of your struggle hold no bearing. A warrior strives to improve, and you have. But a warrior must also know when to acknowledge defeat, accept it, and learn from it. You have fulfilled the first, but you do not follow through with the rest.” The wise warrior shook his head. “Why?”
“Because you always told me a sword needs a sheath, and is no good without a master’s hand to guide it. What home do I have to return to? Who would have such an incompetent warrior?”
The orange Kitsune smacked his nephew on the nose, eliciting a sharp yip of surprise. “You are not incompetent!” He threw his hands into the air. “By the goddess, how could you be so stubborn? You have formed a sacred pact sealed by the goddess herself, have you not?”
“I swore to bring victory to my lord,” kurama shouted back. “I swore to die with honor and bring death to those who would be my enemies. When have I held that oath? When have I succeeded?”
“When you worked to better yourself. Your charges are safe, in no small part due to your bravery in defending them.” The elder Kitsune approached the kit and knelt, laying a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Kurama, you are still young. You expect too much of yourself too soon. You have shown greater strength than many in our company for persevering against the most difficult enemies of all, those which live within us every day of our mortal lives. You destroyed one of the creatures, a feat which no warrior your age has ever accomplished.” With a wave of his hand, the cherry blossoms coalesced into a whirling vortex through which the images of the battle took shape. “You fought with honor for your lord and your people, but for now that oath must be put aside. It has been fulfilled, and you have a new oath to keep, one which you made only a few weeks ago.” With another wave of his hand, Kurama’s uncle replayed the night that Kurama, Gakushu, and Haku had all sworn loyalty to one another as brothers.
“What do I do, Uncle? Please. I need guidance!” Kurama begged.
“Put aside your pride. Stop pretending to be something you have yet to fully become. You need time to mature spiritually, physically, emotionally, and mentally. Stop trying to be the adult, and take the time to grow naturally. The tree does not become mighty in a single day. It takes years of patience, training, and focus. You are but a sapling. Push yourself to grow too fast, and you will be uprooted by the wind. You have honor among your fellow warriors. Of that, you can be assured.” He smiled and ruffled the kit’s head fur.“And the goddess yet has many plans for you. Be patient. Learn slowly. Seek the tutelage of the one who protects you now, and the tutelage of your brothers. One branch breaks easily, but many branches are strong.” He sighed and turned back to the temple bells as they jingled on the wind. “My time grows short.”
“I–I will make you proud, Uncle.” Tears flowed freely as Kurama bowed to the Kitsune before him. He felt the familiar, strong arms around him, and the warmth of his uncle’s fur. Even the scent was the same.
“You have already made me proud, Kurama, my little warrior.Now fight to live, and recover your strength. We will be watching over you always.”
A last heavy sigh carried on the wind through the cherry boughs as the weight of his Uncle disappeared. A bright blue flame danced merrily in front of Kurama before slowly retreating to join a host of flames that had appeared around the shrine. Each flame held the figure of a Kitsune around it. Some were familiar. Others simply looked on, giving the impression of comradery and support paired with an unearthly wisdom.
As one, the flames took on the wavering forms of shinobi, samurai, lancers, martial artists, and even a few warrior monks. The ring of steel sang through the trees as kunai, naginata, katana, bo staff, mandala, and yumi bows were drawn and raised in salute. And there at the front of them all stood Kurama’s uncle, holding the broken piece of naginata from the dream as it glowed, growing outwards in a rose-hued white light before the aura dissipated to reveal the naginata in its full glory, whole as the day it had been hewn and forged. A white flame slowly appeared before forming into a wavering shadow. The shade reached out, took the staff, then light issued forth. When the light had passed, the final warrior of the party stood smiling next to his fellow warrior and raised his spear in salute to the brave young warrior, even as Kurama’s uncle drew his long sword.
“This code you will live by. Follow your heart. It will tell you what is right, and it will show you the way to true honor.”
“I will follow my heart,” Kurama swore as he bowed to his predecessors. “I will earn my place amongst you.”
“We know you will.” With that said the flames drew to one another and surrounded the bells as they began to tinkle and clang together. A woman’s laughter carried on the wind as the clamor grew in intensity. The flames glowed brighter and brighter until, at last, they shot off, leaving streaks of color in their wake as they ascended into the heavens. Afternoon drew to evening in a matter of moments as the sun fell below the horizon. The flames spiraled together, forming a great tail of colors as they streaked across the sky before separating across the four corners of the globe and resting in the broad expanse. There they stayed, each burning brightly in their own place as the rest of the stars began to emerge. A cool breeze blew across the grounds as Kurama found himself in front of the koi pond. Slowly, he allowed himself a deep breath, taking in the crisp night air before he lowered himself to his knees. With a calm he had not felt in quite some time, he emptied his mind and meditated.
Back in the real world, kurama suddenly stopped struggling in bed. Lying still for the first time in many nights, his breathing steadied as he fell into a deep calm slumber. Haku slumped in relief as he watched Kurama with bloodshot eyes. Peace had come at last. With a tired sigh, Haku lay back in his chair before the world returned to black.
Week 20 Day 5
Gakushu stood in the forge, waiting for Hammer Strike to begin his training. He shifted from paw to paw as he watched the smit hard at work on the anvil as he struck the red hot metal. He was two minutes early for his lesson.
“Let me finish and we’ll start,” Hammer Strike said as he finished shaping the axe with a hoof.
“Sensei Strike, do you have the pieces?” Gakushu asked as Hammer Strike finished. “I cannot find them in my chest.”
Hammer Strike gestured the table behind him.
“The table is empty, Sensei,” Gakushu said.
Hammer Strike turned towards the table with a questioning brow. “I mean, they burst with light for a moment, but I don’t think they could just destroy themselves.” He frowned. “Kurama or Haku might have taken them. You might want to check.”
“Later. I want to start learning how to make weapons,” Gakushu replied. “What do you recommend to start with?”
“Dagger or knife.”
“You mean a Tanto?” Gaksuhu asked.
“I mean, we can make those if you want, but I figured something different from your culture’s weapons and tools.”
“Maybe both?”
Hammer Strike shrugged. “Sure.”
“I am ready to begin,” Gakushu answered.
Hammer Strike reached over and brought what appeared to be a stone onto the table. “Let’s start with some basics, like the look and quality of ore.”
Over the next hour Hammer Strike went over the few ores that he had excavated from the mountain he was working in. Iron, copper, tin, gold, silver, orricalcum, malachite, moonstone, silveril, mythril, ebony, viridium, iridium, wood, and diamond.
“Why is there diamond?” Gakushu asked. “Also, how can there be so many different ores in your mine?” He bowed quickly. “My apologies, that question came out without thinking.”
“Huh … that must have gotten mixed in,” Hammer Strike mentioned has he threw the diamond over his shoulder into a pile of gems. “As for how there are this many ores, some of them form at different elevations.”
“What do you wish for me to start on?”
“For simple shaping so you can get the general idea, copper. It’s not good for actual equipment, but it’ll help get you into the idea of it.”
“Very well.” Gakushu smiled. “I look forward to the knowledge you will impart.”
“Hopefully you’ll be fine with the tools I have made.”
“We soon shall see.”
Hammer Strike proceeded to show, step by step, the process of heating, shaping, and treating the metal. Afterwards he began to teach Gakushu the process of making a grip, then showed him how to wrap it should he choose to make a wrap, before finishing off the design with a small pommel at the end.
Gakushu panted from the heat and exertion, but proudly looked at this alien dagger. He had finished placing a blue sapphire into the pommel and held it up. His eyes sparkled at the fact he had just created this item himself with his own two paws.
“And there you have it.” Hammer Strike finished. “A knife.”
“A knife. It is different, but I think I like it. Can we make the next one bigger?”
Hammer Strike broke into a grin. “I think this is the start of something wonderful.”
Week 22, Day 2
The makeshift family sat together at the table as they ate the meager herbal stew with what few chunks of meat they could spare. The pot hung from a makeshift tripod Hammer Strike had forged so they could enjoy it without burning the wood. The table itself had been relocated into Kurama’s room for the time being, so that he could recover without a sense of isolation. Great cheerfulness had filled the cabin for a time when Kurama finally woke and initiated the conversation, rather than the other way round. He was recovering well, and hopefully would be able to leave his bed in another week or so. Still, despite this welcome event, a sense of unease pervaded the cabin. Rationing had grown more severe, and prey more scarce. At this rate the food supply would last for perhaps one more week at most. The grim reality of that fact hovered over each of them, especially Kurama, as he carefully brought a chunk of potato to his mouth from his place in bed.
Haku sighed. “Low supplies, frigid temperatures, frozen earth, and few, if any, animals to hunt. If we don’t find a way to warm things up here, I doubt our warding spells will do much good.”
“Haku, can you hunt?” Gakushu asked with worry. “I can make you arrowheads, but I know I cannot hunt.”
“I know the theory, but I’ve never had to apply it before.” He shook his head. “Besides, as long as we have this winter to deal with, most animals will either be hibernating or have moved far away from here. It will be very hard to track any that might remain. We’ll need bait. Some kind of food source to lure them out.”
“And with that comes the need for a garden, in a harsh cold environment,” Hammer Strike commented. “I can build a room for insulation, but the tricky part will be sunlight.”
Haku shrugged. “Solar magic is the most advanced of pyromancy. We do not have the skills for it, and not even the greatest of the high priests invoke it lightly.”
Hammer Strike hummed to himself in thought. “I mean, there might be something we can do about that…”
“Unless you know of a way to kill off all of those spirits at once, I’m not exactly certain what else we can do,” Haku said.
“Maybe we should focus on one task at paw?” Gakushu asked. “The farm or garden first? Once we have a proper food supply, then we can see about pushing those spirits away.”
“That was my point, Gakushu. A garden can’t grow without sunlight and warmth. Those spirits are blocking both.”
“But Strike Sensei would not have said something unless he has a plan already,” Gakushu countered.
“If I try what I am thinking, I don’t know how well it’ll turn out,” Hammer Strike said with some unease. “But, if it works…”
“Then we have something to keep fighting?” Gakushu asked.
“Here’s a question. Do you think an Earth Pony like myself can make solar fire?”
“According to our records, your tribe works with the earth, and has great skill as farmers. You’ve already shown us that you can make use of magical fire, so you are clearly not an average Earth Pony. But to wield the power of the sun itself? Are you trying to kill yourself?” Haku asked.
“If Death himself can’t do it, who knows how far I can push the boundary?”
“You have faced a Shinigami?” Haku’s eyes widened as his spoon clattered to his bowl, splashing the broth onto his fur and the table itself.
“It’s fun. I punch him, he tries to kill me. It’s a back and forth thing.”
“But … but that’s impossible!” Haku gaped at the Earth Pony.
“And I love to do the impossible,” Hammer Strike said as he stood from the table. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to see how an environment like this reacts to my kind of magic.” He grinned and left the table. A few moments later, the sound of the front door slamming reached the trio where they sat as Hammer Strike made his way outside.
“... I don’t know if anyone in Napon will even believe us,” Haku said, bewildered as he still struggled to accept what Hammer Strike had just said.
“Maybe we are dead and we do not know it?” Gakushu muttered in shock.
“I know for a fact that's not true,” Kurama said with a weak chuckle.
“He’s right. If we were, he would be whole, not laid up in bed like this,” Haku agreed.
The was a sudden bright flash of light followed by an intense hissing as a great fog suddenly rolled in, obscuring the view of the forest.
“What in the goddess’ name…?” Haku swore as the trio turned to stare out the window as they watched the sudden water droplets condense on it before freezing over. Soup forgotten, he bolted for the door.
“Wait!” Gakushu shouted “We do not know if it is safe.”
Kurama groaned in frustration as he flopped back onto his pillows.
Hammer Strike blinked repeatedly as he tried to clear his vision. While his first attempt worked, he may or may not have put too much energy into it. He shook his head as his vision began to return to him. “Alright, attempt one, success. Just too much of a success,” he muttered to himself as he looked to the grass beneath him. The snow had been melted away in the flash of intense heat, shrivelling the grass as well.
He exhaled as he focused once more on Celestia’s magic as contained within his thaumic field. Searching around, he felt another touch, light and cool to compliment the warmth of the solar magic. It was almost as if … Luna, of course. All the times she’d teleported him must have allowed his thaumic field to sample her power and take it to bolster his own. She was the only other magical entity strong enough to manage something like that. It would explain the claws he’d manifested the first night, and the ability to feel the frigidity of the winter weather. But seeing as he was looking to make use of sunlight, and not moonlight, he passed over that bit of magic and filed its location away for later experimentation.
He sighed, thinking to himself on the power flow needed to have a decent orb of solar energy. The main problem was if he pushed it too far, it would essentially just end up as plasma. If he pushed it too little, it would sputter and die in the cold. His mind went back to a conversation he remembered having, though he could not with who. A way to keep the solar energy self sustaining is what he needed, and whoever they had been had offered a good idea on how.
He took a breath as he focused on making a smaller orb of solar energy. More slowly this time, the orb took shape and began to grow, becoming more dense over time. The energy continued to build as he began to focus on making the sphere drain ambient magic from the environment to sustain itself. The earth may have been frozen, and the sun may have been cut off, but that didn’t keep the magic field Equis had from functioning. His ears twitched as the orb pulsed, bathing the clearing by the cliff in its warmth.
“What in the goddess’s name is going on here?” Haku asked. Hammer Strike couldn’t help but smirk. It was about time the kit loosened up.
“To describe it simply, magic. To describe it in a more complex manner, I simply created an orb of solar energy, then reworked it to sustain itself off the power being produced by the planet itself.”
“... Come again?” Haku’s eyes darted first to Hammer Strike, then to the miniature sun, then back to the Pony again.
“I made a miniature sun,” Hammer Strike explained with a shrug.
“How? That is some of the most dangerous magic in existence, and you shrug it off like it is nothing.” The Kitsune looked warily at the ball as tiny spurts of flame burst out before returning to its surface.
“Because I mess with a field of power that could destroy me in less than a second. Daily. Messing with magic like this, however, isn’t as dangerous.”
“I do not know whether to run away or beg you to teach me.” Haku shuddered as he looked back at the ball of energy, but at least the cold was retreating. It was even getting warm enough to call the area a mild spring.
“I don’t think I want you to try this field of power. Like I said, in an instant I can be gone without a trace. No body, no ash, not even my soul would be able to escape the devastation.”
“I meant in other magics, but I will keep your warning in mind. It is not my place to meddle in the affairs of the gods.”
“Let’s hope I never have to use a large amount of it.” Hammer Strike hummed to himself. “I’ll have to build a greenhouse, at least something close enough to it. The glass panes are going to be an interesting thing to make.”
“And won’t this warmth draw the Windigo to us? We should probably make our way back to the house before they arrive.”
“They blocked out the sun. Why would they want to move towards a source similar to it that can already survive their grasp?” Hammer Strike questioned. “But, if needed, I can make a few of these around the perimeter to keep them at bay. And perhaps you three could actually be outside and not be freezing.”
“You mean they won’t try to snuff it out?”
“They can try, but I made sure it won’t give out easily,” Hammer Strike chuckled. “In fact, I may just make it backlash if they were to try.”
“How did you become so skilled at magic, Hammer Strike? By all accounts, one of your species shouldn’t be capable of any of this, and yet you are.”
“In a way, I’m not exactly the same as most Earth Ponies. That, and I’ve spent a long time reading about and learning how to control this power, and manipulate it in such a way as to ensure I won’t kill myself or those around me.”
“So yours is a completely new branch of magic that rivals divine power?”
“One that no one will learn unless I show them, or they can translate a certain book that nobody was able to translate.”
“... That sounds oddly familiar,” Haku said as he stroked his chin in thought.
“Do tell.”
“I remember reading something in the archives about that. A book from the gods written in a language none can comprehend. Some theorize it’s being held in a secret sanctum until instructions are given from the goddess saying otherwise, but those are merely rumors.” He shrugged. “Other than that, I’m afraid I know rather little.”
Hammer Strike thought on something for a moment before he reached into his coat and pulled out a book. “Tell me, what would you say if I had a certain untranslatable book. I don’t know about the goddess part of it, but…” He held it out. “This is the raw book, not translated. I keep the one I translated hidden.”
Haku carefully examined the cover, then gently opened the volume before casually flipping the pages. He shook his head. “These characters mean nothing to me. And I am afraid we do not have a caricature of the book to compare with.”
“Forte quadam die scies?” Hammer Strike chuckled as he took the book back. “Unus dies…” he finished, placing the book back into his coat.
“What did you just say?”
Hammer Strike simply chuckled as the orb began to move its way towards home. He continued to chuckle as he followed the orb. “Come on now. Perhaps I’ll tell you one day.”
Haku sighed and shook his head. “Am I correct to assume that you are responsible for the earlier explosion?”
“I put too much power into the first orb, and it may have burned itself out, as well as the environment around it.”
“I see.” Haku shuddered.
Week 39 Day 5
Kurama breathed deep as he strolled across the grass for the first time in weeks. His healing had gone well, and Haku had finally pronounced him well enough to be out of bed rest, provided he took things easy for a few more days. The crisp morning air felt good in his lungs and on his fur as he strolled. “The goddess had brought another beautiful morning to us,” he said to no one in particular.
Gakushu smiled by one of the trees as he did his best to hide a long box behind his back. He shifted from one paw to the other, doing his best to appear to be enjoying the new day. With the addition of Hammer Strike’s new solar spheres, spring had returned to their little stretch of land, and the earth had begun to revive as the ground thawed near the new greenhouses.
“Pleasant morning to you, my brother.” Kurama smiled in an almost serene fashion as he gave a small bow. “How has your forge work been?”
“Well, it is Hammer Strike Sensei’s forge, but it is going well. In fact, that was what I was hoping to talk to you about.” He paused and flicked an ear. “After all that has been happening, this still feels surreal and strange.”
“Of course.” Kurama smiled at him. “Please, let’s talk.” In a gesture a blast of gold flames came from his palm, clearing the area before them of snow. He gestured kindly for Gakushu to take a seat. “There is actually something I need to say to you.”
“Yes?” Gakushu asked as he sat down, a brow quirking at the unusual color of Kurama’s fire. “I have my ears perked.”
“My attitude these last few months towards you and Haku has been unacceptable. I have been surly, argumentative, and aggressive.” He bowed his head. “For that, I can only say gomen’nasi, Gakushu san,” he apologized.
“I feel that part of it was my own emotions and actions.” Gakushu shuddered. “I fear that I was partly to blame for your actions. But the past is in the past. What family has brothers that do not fight or act like we do? You wanted to protect us, and that is why I wanted to speak with you.” He smiled as one of his tails tapped the chest. “Open it up, please, big brother.”
Kurama looked at the box partly in shock, and partly in anticipation as he opened it slowly. Inside, sitting snugly in the skins of several rabbits, lay a katana. The long blade was sheathed in treated wood, but not lacquered as was the traditional custom. He immediately suspected this was due to the lack of such goods in their current situation. He ran his hand across the wood. It had been smoked black with a silver blossom embedded at the top near the hilt. The tsuba itself was shaped from silver, and kurama could make out the markings of a powerful talisman. The handle was covered in treated skin of a type Kurama couldn’t identify, and wrapped with a black cord. Beneath the cord on one side, the image of a dragon carved within a deep red stone was tied down by the wrap. A black knob known as the kuri-kata was embedded near the top of the hilt with an orange cord running through it to be tied to the wielder’s belt.
“You made this?” Kurama asked in shock, almost scared to draw the blade.
“I did.” Gakushu nodded and motioned for Kurama to try the weapon.
Reverently, Kurama lifted the sheathed blade in his hands and felt its weight. He grasped almost nervously at the handle and pulled. The blade slid free practically willfully. Examining the craft, he found it had been forged from a metal he had never seen before. The blade was black like coal, so that it almost seemed to cut the light as it hit the blade. Several kanji had been carved into the left side of the katana, forming a powerful charm that ended with the same blossom the hilt had inscribed upon it. Placing the sheath down gently, Kurama stood back and felt the blade’s weight. He swung it and felt it obey his will without question. He channeled his magic through it, and the blade became wreathed in gold flames instantly. “It’s beautiful,” he whispered. “What have you named it, brother?”
“Me? Name it? You are the warrior. Strike Sensei told me that I should tell you that you need to name it.”
“Then Fuyu no Aki shall be its name.” Kurama held the blade horizontally across both paws and got on his knees before his brother. “And with it, I do pledge my service as a samurai to you, my lord Gakushu.”
“But… I am your brother. How can you–how can I be your lord when we are brothers?”
“Who better to serve than my brother?” Kurama returned.
“That ... that makes sense,” Gakushu answered. He looked around. “You want to see what Hammer Strike Sensei is up to? I think he said something about working on an experiment in the greenhouse.”
“Of course, my brother.” In a single motion Kurama returned the blade to its sheath before tying it to his belt with the curve side facing up, crossing the sheath of the wakizashi. He smiled as he adjusted to the weight. He had a true sword now, not the secondary weapon he’d taken for cleaning game. His soul was complete. He gestured for Gakushu to lead the way.
Year 1 Week 39 Day 5
Hammer Strike frowned as he looked at his reflection, his goatee had turned into a beard at this point, and he hadn’t decided on whether to keep it as such or shave it off. Heck, Haku even suggested letting it grow out in the style of dwarf Ponies with how long he spent in his forge and mines.
Gakushu knocked on the door to his room. “Strike Sensei, are you planning to expand our area? Maybe widen the path from home to the lake?”
“I might later. I feel a bit out of it right now,” Hammer replied.
“What’s wrong?”
“I’m just feeling unmotivated to do much right now,” Hammer Strike replied. “I might take a break from building and smithing, work on some combat exercises, magic, manipulate the energy around us, something other than the same thing day in and day out with the same outcome.”
“Does that mean I could use one of the forges to smith and hone my skill?” Gakushu asked.
“Use either one.”
“I shall use the cave one, then. Will we see you at dinner tonight?”
“As usual, yes.”
“Good to hear. Do you want me to make any tools for us while you are changing your routine?”
“We aren’t in need of any additional tools,” Hammer Strike commented as he pulled out a familiar book.
“Very well, I shall work on my own tools and weapons to become better.” Gakushu slowly left the door frame and made his way towards the forge.
“Well,” Kurama said, “I will be heading to re-stock our wood supply. I’ll be sure to be back in time for our lesson, Sensei,” he said, bowing through the door frame.
“You know I can only hear that you’re bowing, right?” Hammer Strike questioned.
“It’s tradition,” Kurama retorted.
“And you should know I don’t care about tradition in the first place,” Hammer Strike replied. “But, I won’t hold it against any of you because eventually you’ll be returning home, and need to still keep those in mind. Let’s just hope I don’t ever arrive there, as I doubt I will be able to follow your traditions easily, nor do I care about titles.”
“Very well, Sensei. I will see you later.” With that, he headed off.
“Hammer Strike … oh, you’re busy. I’ll come back later,” Haku said as he performed an about face.
“What is it Haku?”
“Well, you’ve been teaching us so much, I was wondering if I might be able to return the favor, and you have been looking a little …”
“And what do you want to tell me about?”
“I thought you might want to learn the art of the brush.” He shrugged, then finally said it outright. “You looked bored.”
“I always look bored. That’s nothing new.”
“But you do feel bored?”
“I nearly always feel bored because some of the stuff I would like to make, I can’t.”
Haku shrugged. “Why?”
“Because they shouldn’t exist yet, and because they may or may not be destructive, which we don’t need at this moment.”
“Couldn’t you just make them and then destroy them? I doubt any of us have the skill to be able to replicate what you do, even if we tried.”
“As I stated, half of them we don’t need. It’d be useless to make them.”
“And that should stop you from enjoying what you do, why?” he asked, raising an eyebrow in a manner surprisingly like Hammer Strike himself would do.
“Why waste materials on an object that I will deconstruct and do the same thing over and over. As I stated to Gakushu, I will be working on something else, some magic, some combat, something different for the time being.”
“Would you care for some company?”
“If you don’t mind hearing me mutter in either Draconic or a language that doesn’t exist on this planet besides in a single book that nobody can understand, sure.”
Haku shrugged. “Only if you don’t mind my unusual sneezes.”
“I still don’t get why your sneeze sounds like you’re saying your name…”
“You should have seen me when I was five.”
Year 1 Week 55 Day 3
Gakushu stood nervously by a covered table shifting from paw to paw as he looked at the door and waited for his brothers and Hammer Strike to enter. He wanted to show off his latest creation. A loud knock finally broke the silence, and heralded the expected party’s arrival.
Hammer Strike entered the room, Haku and Kurama trailing behind him.
Gakushu smiled as he fidgeted at the edge of the table. “I–I know this is a bit advanced for me as a beginner, but I think, well, sensei, my father...” He took a moment to compose himself before continuing. “He was fascinated with this idea, and I know it isn’t working right now, but maybe Strike Sensei can help make a working model. I hope you two like it as well.” With that he pulled the sheet off the table to reveal a very crude crossbow. “I am still having trouble with the molds, but before we left, Father told me that some of the emperor’s weapon smiths were talking of creating a streamlined production by making individual parts en masse and then assembling them together.”
“... Strange, I don’t recall seeing anything like this while I was studying in the archives. How long has this weapon been around?” Haku asked as he began to circle the table.
“About two years before we left on our journey,” Gakushu answered. “Sensei was training me to continue our profession, so he taught me some of the advancements for history’s sake. He and I were worried how easy it might be for the peasants to use it against our daimyos or their lesser Lords.”
“It will never replace the yumi,” kurama noted slightly defensively as he stroked the quiver of arrows at his side.
“You never know what advancements will happen in weaponry. In any category, honestly. What works today could be improved tomorrow, and though the old way is more accepted, others try to better it further,” Hammer Strike commented.
“The tension on the string looks unwieldy,” kurama noted. “In the time it would take to reset it, I could have ten shots fired.”
“But the tension would also allow for greater distance and force, Kurama. At a proper distance, given the proper augmentation, it could be downright deadly,” Haku noted. “A single shot could pierce most armor, could it not?”
“Well, yes,” Gakushu acceded, “but also, from what I was told, this weapon could be utilized during times of war that would need the Samurai in one place and other troops in another. I think I heard it was meant to be a weapon of last resort or first strike. The debate was still going when we left.”
“Each tool holds its own purpose, Kurama,” Hammer Strike said before he turned to Gakushu. “I can easily help you finish it off.”
“You can?” He bowed hastily, a broad smile on his face. “Thank you, Sensei. Thank you so very much. I ... I want to be a smith, but not of tools for peasants. I want to make the tools for the samurai, for our warriors.”
“Then perhaps I can teach you a few ... special weapons before we part ways.”
“Oh?” Gakushu asked, his eyes lighting up with joy as a small toothy grin formed.
“We’ll see how far you get before I teach you those,” Hammer Strike chuckled. “So far though, you show potential.”
“Thank you, Sensei. I am in the process of creating a new sword, like you showed me, but made to Kurama’s height.” He turned to Kurama. “I have to stay in practice, and I do want to try something else with this forge.”
“Fuyu no Aki serves me fine, my lord. It is as sharp as the very embodiment of an inclined plane.”
“Well you are the only Samurai we have, so I have only one template to work on. I am sorry, Kurama, but you might have enough weapons for an army by the time I am finished, or at least one of every weapon I can think of.”
“Do you think you might be able to forge something for me as well, Gakushu? Magic and spells are all well and good, but it never hurts to be prepared.” Haku rubbed the side of his arm with a slight wince. “Strike Sensei taught me that today.”
“We will have to ask Kurama what weapons are allowed for you to wield. I do not want you in trouble for wielding something above your station.”
“If I am our samurai, I suppose that would make Haku our priest.” Kurama laughed to himself. “Generally the priests fight with blunt weapons. If you do wish for a blade, there are the twin hooks, or the emei piercers. Otherwise, perhaps the staff, or the sectioned staff?”
“I believe a sectioned staff would be most practical. I may be able to add an additional layer of functionality to it through enchantment as well. Though I think it might be wise for me to carry a dagger anyways, just to be on the safe side,” Haku said.
“A three sectioned staff, then.” Kurama nodded. “Have you seen the monks training with them, Gakushu?”
“Only once. Do you have any means of showing how they looked?”
“I can draw one from memory, but you will need to figure out the chainwork yourself, unfortunately.”
“I think I can work on that. It may take some time, but I will do my best. I will not give you something that is not usable,” Gakushu promised.
Haku smiled. “I will look forward to it, brother. Thank you.”
Year 2 Week 10 Day 15
Hammer Strike took a breath as he looked to a dim yellow crystal in his hoof. An aspect in solid form. He frowned to himself as he looked it over. “You did the calculations, ran over possible outcomes, ensured everyone was at a safe distance… It’ll be fine,” he muttered to himself, calming his nerves.
His hooves flared with blue fire as he pulled the shard towards his left hoof. When the shard had drawn close enough to the hoof, he began to slowly move it, drawing a symbol in the air. The blue energy shifted in hue ever so slightly as the crystal began evaporating, leaving a glowing trail. A moment later he finished drawing the symbol and the crystal was gone, leaving a fading symbol hovering in the air as the blue fire calmed to nothingness and the remaining light disappeared.
He took several breaths as nausea settled in, and shortly after, left him. “Okay, no errors. I didn’t kill myself or destroy something. Good.” After taking a moment to let everything settle, he turned towards a practice dummy he had set up earlier.
At some unseen signal Hammer Strike charged forward, the world around him slowing to a crawl as his momentum increased far beyond what should have been physically possible. The feeling was exhilarating, yet terrifying. He tried to breathe, but found the air wouldn’t move in or out of his lungs. As he struck the first dummy the dummy's destruction didn’t happen at the speed he was accustomed. Instead it started to break apart slowly as he passed by. The second dummy came up, and he managed two strikes before the concussive force of the first punch began to act on the figure. He moved towards the third dummy, only for his body’s demand for oxygen to cause his hoof to misstep. He tripped, stumbled, and proceeded to go tumbling forward several meters before finally coming to a complete stop. He breathed greedily, sucking the precious life-giving substance his body craved. The air particles were finally able to move at a speed that allowed them to replenish his body.
The world began to spin as he kept breathing, nausea taking over as he dry heaved. “Test one–” he heaved once more. “–Success. And I don’t want to try that again any time soon. Not used to high speed. Note to self, ask Grif about it later.”
“Are you alright, Hammer Strike?”
Haku’s voice wavered ever so slightly to the Earth Pony as the world began to settle once again. Hammer would definitely need to find out a way to breathe while he was moving that fast. Being stuck like this on the battlefield would mean nothing but death.
“Yeah, just… just trying to let my body rest. Moved too fast.”
“You’ve seen this tactic accomplished with more success by another, I assume?” Kurama asked.
“Partially. Hard to keep track of his movement at that speed.”
“Some of the older kitsune have learned to increase their speed. Not at that level, but it is possible. They mention the technique is hard to master because of the differences in a world moving so much slower.”
“I don’t plan on mastering it, just some practice,” Hammer Strike said as he pushed himself to his hooves.
“Not until I’ve patched you up,” Haku insisted. “You’re bleeding.”
“Well, that’s a different feeling. Then again, I may have weakened my other aspects by adding a temporary one…”
“You just smashed through a tree at a speed that no ordinary Pony could ever hope to survive with only a few bad scrapes to show for it,” Haku added as he started wrapping some homespun cloth around the wounds. “How is it that you can take so much damage so easily?”
“That, too,” Hammer Strike chuckled. “I think I’m going to try another aspect next, try that one again some other time.”
“I have just one question before you do, Hammer Strike,” Haku said.
“And that would be?”
“What are aspects?”
“Everything in the world in a form that I can manipulate and bind to myself in this case.”
“Such power encroaches upon the territory of the divine,” Kurama noted.
“It would explain why he is so well known in legend,” Haku added.
“How many times have we been warned about such things, Haku? Mortals were not meant to wield the power of gods.”
“And yet, if he did not, we would be dead.”
“Be that as it may, you will not seek to learn these arts, Haku,” Kurama insisted.
“You act like I would even be willing to teach this to any of you,” Hammer Strike commented blandly as he brushed the splinters and pine needles that had caught in his mane and fur out.
“And so it is settled.” Haku smiled. “So what is to come next, Hammer Strike?”
“Next comes me trying more stupid things because I can.”
Year 2 Week 58 Day 4
For what seemed like the hundredth time, the wooden pole thumped against Haku’s own head as Kurama dodged and countered. The solid wood blasted a searing pain on impact. “I told you. Don’t stop just because you attack. You need to keep your momentum.”
“This is more difficult than it looks,” Haku said, rubbing his head gingerly.
“All weapons are more difficult than they look,” Kurama rebuttled. “To learn to fight can take years, centuries. Some warriors have been mastering weapons longer than the mages and priests have studied spellwork.” He took the crude training weapon from Haku and demonstrated the movements again, never halting as he shifted the weapon around his body like a snake, allowing the staff’s own weight to control its movement. “You have been trained to think, and there is your first problem. Don’t.”
“How?” Haku asked.
“You must unlearn what you have learned. Trust your feelings and your instincts. Let the goddess guide you.”
“... I’ll try,” he said uncertainly.
“Do or do not!” Kurama told him sternly. “There is no try.”
Haku gulped. “This is going to take a while, isn’t it?”
“It will be a skill you may be honing your entire life. All I can do is make sure you don’t kill yourself doing so.”
“But you can let me get bruised and beaten.” Haku chuckled and took up the basic stance. “Shall we continue?”
Kurama was about to speak when his gaze caught something behind Haku and his brow seemed to furrow.
“What is it, Kurama?” Haku asked.
Kurama pointed to the horizon. The sun was setting slowly in the distance. As the light receded something bright shone on a cliff just on the edge of their vision. “How do you make a smokeless fire, Haku?” Kurama asked cryptically.
“How can you tell it’s a fire?” Haku countered.
“You expect to find highly polished steel out this far? The Light we can see is yellow, and the light’s directed in our direction. A reflection should be shining away from us as the sun is setting.”
“Then that leaves only one other option.”
“We should talk to Hammer Strike Sama immediately. Maybe we can get to them before the windegos do.”
“We can try. Though considering the distance we have to cover, it is unlikely, unless Hammer Strike knows a faster method of travel.”
With that said, the pair raced for the cabin. Well, Kurama raced. Haku hobbled as fast as his bruised and aching body could carry him. Kurama slammed the door open, taking in the scene of the living room as he searched for their guardian. They eventually found him in the back room storage areas. “Hammer Strike Sama, we saw fire on the horizon!”
Hammer Strike looked puzzled. “I thought you said it would be several years before a search party was formed, unless this is another group of some sort out here.”
“I’m not sure, but it was smokeless. Not many can create smokeless fire. We need to find out.”
“Distance from us to them?”
“A few leagues at least. The light was barely a glimmer,” Haku said.
“That’ll take some time to get to.”
“Yes, it will. I fear we may be too late by the time we get there.”
“Then we need to get moving now, and as fast as possible. Kurama, do you want to go or stay to defend?”
“I’ll stay. Gakushu won’t want to leave, and you’ve had more success against the windigos then we have.”
“Alright, Haku, you’ll be coming with me. If it is more Kitsunes, then I’ll need you around,” Hammer started as he began moving towards the door. “And you’ll need to direct me where you saw it.”
“Alright.” Haku nodded, though his tail had ducked between his legs, betraying his anxiety.
The pair ran well into the evening until they reached the base of the cliff. Haku panted heavily as he struggled to regain his breath while Hammer Strike took in their surroundings, ever alert for the windigo they knew were out there.
“Clear for now. Let’s get up there,” Hammer Strike said as he searched for a proper trail.
“I believe they went this way, Hammer Strike,” Haku said as he sniffed at the air. “Their scent is weak, but I can follow it.”
“Then let’s move.”
Darting through the brush, Haku discovered the recently disturbed snow and undergrowth forming a hint of a game trail. Careful not to slip on the slick surface, he began the precarious climb up with Hammer Strike in tow. “This is definitely Kitsune work. The slope wouldn’t be nearly so slippery had someone not melted the snow first to make a safer passage.”
Eventually the pair found their way to the top of the cliff, where a thick layer of snow and what appeared to be a collapsed drift of … something lay. Some small remnants of icicles and chunks poked out intermittently. “The trail goes cold here. They can’t have moved far from this spot. Not unless they could teleport,” Haku said.
“I wouldn’t put it past anyone,” Hammer Strike commented, “but I have a terrible feeling in the back of my mind.”
Haku shuddered. “It’s colder here. Do you think they may have been attacked?”
“I’m sorry to say, but yes, they were.”
“You sensed the windigo?” Haku looked nervously around the clearing.
“Not sensed,” Hammer Strike clarified, clearing snow at his hoof.
Haku gasped as the snow was swept away to reveal a face quite literally frozen in horror, its scream forever trapped. Haku dropped to his knees. “Oh, goddess,” he swore quietly.
“I’m sorry, Haku.” Hammer Strike looked to the kitsune. “There is nothing we could have done.”
“How many lives have those things taken by now?” Haku shook his head, then clasped his paws together in silent prayer as he whispered to the stars.
Hammer Strike’s eyes flared for a moment as he looked to the frozen kitsune. “That can’t be right…”
Haku’s ear twitched. “What … can’t be right, Hammer Strike?”
Hammer Strike began thawing the ice over one of the bodies. After a moment, he pulled one the Kitsunes out and hovered an orb of fire near him. The creature gasped, then breathed as deeply as possible before flailing and swiftly falling unconscious.
“How …?” Haku began.
“It hasn’t been too long. I’ll explain more later. For now just make sure they’re still breathing as I pull them out,” Hammer Strike said as his body began to radiate heat, melting the snowy covering to reveal the massive slab they had stepped on. He dug a hoof into the next space, hissing through the ice and digging it out and around the body like a spoon cleaning a pumpkin. Soon he had the second one out, and tossed the apparently lifeless Kitsune next to Haku. The kit promptly cast a healing spell with one hand while concentrating magical fire in the other to generate heat and bring the older fox around. The last one was came in short order.
“They’re not fit for travel right now, Hammer Strike. We’ll need to give them time to recover before we can make the journey back,” Haku noted.
“I’ll carry them. We need to get them back.”
Haku looked ponderingly at Hammer Strike, then back at the Kitsunes’ clothes. “Gomenasai,” he said as he bowed and pulled the sashes from their belts before he began to lift them as best he could onto Hammer Strike’s back. It took a few tries, and the occasional application of the Pony’s strength, but eventually all three victims were slumped equally. To ensure that they would remain, Haku tied each of the cloth belts together, then tightly wound them around the recumbent forms. “It isn’t perfect, but it will have to do.”
“Alright, let’s move.”
Year 3 Week 4 Day 4
“–rike Sens … aking up.”
Michio groaned. His head felt like he’d eaten too much mochi ice cream. It throbbed. His throat felt dry, and … why did he feel so disoriented? He reached out with his blue furred paw and rubbed his head. “What … happened?” he murmured.
“You were attacked and frozen alive by a windigo,” Hammer Strike responded from his seated position.
“A … what?” Michio asked. He felt something warm and fuzzy brush his forehead.
“His fever appears to have dropped, Hammer Strike. His body should be returning to full health soon,” a young voice piped up.
“Good. As for your question, that is the name of the ice horse thing you attempted to fight and lost to,” Hammer explained.
The blue Kitsune blinked a few times as his vision slowly cleared to reveal a scarred Earth Pony with a torn ear and a dead expression. Michio’s black-ringed ears twitched as he moved to sit up, only to see a young kit approach the stallion and stand at his side. “The … the others,” he slurred, struggling to form the words.
“There were three of you, correct?” the Earth Pony asked.
“Yes … we were … sent. Sent to … to explore, to find … something.” He rubbed his head. “Forgive me. It is … difficult to organize my thoughts.”
“Are you sure it was something, or was it someone?”
“I … I am not sure. We … we were … cold. So cold. And our fires could not stay lit. I … I thought I would see the goddess.”
Hammer Strike looked over the trio before giving a soft sigh. “Hopefully you’ll all remember everything when you’ve rested and healed fully.”
“I thank you … for your kindness.” Michiro’s eyes suddenly felt so very heavy. “Are … the others...?”
“The other two are here resting as well. I will have their beds moved into here so you won’t be far from your team.”
“... Arigato,” he sighed before falling back into his pillows and the calm blackness of sleep.
Haku turned to Hammer Strike. “They were most likely part of a search party to confirm if we were dead. A lack of any reports usually leads to this sort of action. The scars on his body indicate rigorous training. He’s even gone so far as to etch spell kanji into his skin beneath the fur.”
“Dedicated,” Hammer Strike shrugged. “Haku, would you mind keeping an eye on them? If they need my attention, or you need my attention, come and get me in the mines. I shouldn’t be too far in.”
“As you say.” Haku bowed his head, then turned back to the sleeping Kitsune as he applied a series of warm compresses to his head and replaced some of the old rags in key arterial locations to circulate warmth. “I will alert you when something changes.”
Outside in the hallway, Gakushu stood anxiously. “How are they?” He asked. “Will they get better?”
“They’ll recover.” Hammer Strike sighed. “Honestly, they are incredibly lucky. If we were any later, I have a feeling they wouldn’t be here with us.”
“That bad.” Gakushu stared off into space for a time. “Well, I hope they get better soon. This is going to be … fun, I suppose the word would be. We have three more Kitsunes now to help around the site.”
“Yes … fun,” Hammer Strike said as he slowly strode for the door and made his way to the mines.
Extended Holiday Ch 87: A Blizzard of Cherry Blossoms Act 11
Year 3 Week 5 Day 2
Gakushu looked to his two brothers. “As we know, it is tradition to adopt adults to help bring strong warriors into families. I want to ask you two, can we adopt Hammer Strike into our family? It would help, and it would allow some of use to call him by family names.”
“Gakushu, if we were to adopt him officially, would he not become subject to the emperor? Hammer Strike could never agree to such a thing,” Haku pointed out.
“No, not if he stays here under pretense of keeping watch to make sure our knowledge does not fall into the wrong paws. Besides, his eyes are old, like grandpa age. He would be respected, and come and go as he pleases. Besides, none can hold him down.”
“I’m afraid it’s too risky, Gakushu. Our people risk enough with these expeditions. Doing as you suggest risks exposing us too much,” kurama said
Gakushu sighed. “Very well, but I ... I still want to call him father. I feel safe around him, and he ... he is catching on to why I call him Sensei.”
“How can you be so sure?” Haku asked. “Besides, is that such a bad thing?”
“His expression,” Gakushu answered. “It is bad in that I cannot call him anything but Sensei.”
Haku shrugged. “Then why not just do it?”
“I can’t. Culture and tradition deems that improper. You know that. It’s worse than disobeying your elders.”
“Hammer Strike is our elder now. He doesn’t care about stuffy traditions that keep people apart. Why should we?”
“Because we will be returning home, and we will have our actions scrutinized. I do not want to risk being banned from practicing what I am learning here.”
“Why should you be banned? If you wish to be a smith, be a smith. You need no sanction to practice the art you love.”
“Because I am not of the smithing class. I come from the gatherers, and so I have to be a gatherer, just as tradition dictates.”
“The emperor still clings to the absolutism of the caste system,” Kurama agreed.
“Then … then perhaps it is time for a change,” Haku said resolutely.
“Not if we play our cards right, and we get the help of the other three,” Gakushu answered. “Still, if we can prove Hammer Strike is a master smith, and he took on apprentices, it could work, but part of that is at least to ceremonially adopt him. He won’t be forced to serve the Emperor, but by adoption he can change the castes we are in.”
“Let’s face it. Hammer Strike transcends the caste system. He can do practically anything. There is a reason why he is held throughout our lore as a mystery,” Haku said.
“Wait, he shows up in our lore?” Gakushu asked.
“In multiple places,” Haku said.
Gakushu sat down in bafflement. “That, but… what will that mean for us when we get home?”
Haku shrugged. “We will likely be closely interviewed, and quite possibly become famous for getting concrete information on him to share in the archives.”
“Famous and never get another day's work done,” Gakushu muttered darkly.
“After what Hammer Strike has taught us? I think we would be strong enough to do as we wish without being bothered,” Haku said.
“When we are not having to host visitors or guests, or having to answer questions. I should know. My father grew tired of having to ask the same questions as the other archivers, but they will ask them. Realizing we will be on the other end tires me just thinking about it.” Gakushu sighed heavily.
“We could simply archive it now, you know. Then we can give them the copy later and save all of us a headache,” Haku replied.
“For now,” kurama said, “let's concentrate on surviving. Perhaps there will be a new emperor when we return, and he will be more considerate, but for now we must look to the now.”
“Agreed,” Gakushu said, “which brings me to the next problem. What do we do with three more Kitsunes?” Gakushu muttered.
Haku shrugged. “We survive. We certainly have enough to share.”
“For a time, yes,” Kurama agreed, “but it will take too long to extend the gardens and gather necessary resources. We can’t produce enough for everyone for more than a few weeks.”
“We shouldn’t get ahead of ourselves. Let’s find out what their mission was first. Once we learn that, we can go on from there,” Haku said.
“So we wait for them to fully wake up from their ordeal,” Gakushu agreed. “Hopefully in the next few days.”
“They simply require rest and warmth, Gakushu. They will be alright,” Haku said. “Speaking of which, I had best check on them to see how they are progressing.”
Year 3 Week 6 Day 1
“I apologize; what did you say your name was again?” a bright yellow Kitsune with red highlights, three tails, and a white underbelly asked.
“Hammer Strike.”
“Impossible,” A blue four-tailed Kitsune muttered. “Unless he is named in honor of the smith.” He smiled. “May I inquire who you are named after?”
“Please forgive Michio,” a silver-grey seven-tailed Kitsune interjected as one of his tails whapped the four-tailed fox on the head. “He still has much to learn about what is and is not possible. It is an honor, Ancient Fire.” He placed his fist in his palm and bowed low to Hammer Strike.
“l’ll be honest. I didn’t see that coming,” Hammer Strike muttered.
“After seven hundred years, you begin to see beneath the beneath,” the elderly Kitsune known as Satoru stated. “Even now I feel the warmth of the sun on your coat.”
“Well, it is the strongest aspect in that field,” Hammer Strike thought out loud. “On to the reason I called you three here. What was your primary objective coming out this far?”
“How long have you lived in this area?” Satoru asked.
“Three years in this region after rescuing the other three who are currently working on their own projects. Now, could you answer my question?”
“And has it ever been summer in that entire time? Sping? Fall?”
Hammer Strike didn’t respond as he stared at the Kitsune.
“The emperor wants to know why winter is unending in this region, why it is spreading, and, if possible, for it to be broken,” the elderly Kitsune told him. “To let it remain as it is could be disastrous to the balance.”
“Thank you,” Hammer Strike replied. “As for the cause, it is the windigos who are causing this neverending winter.”
“Those creatures the pups mentioned?” the yellow one asked.
“The very same that froze you all alive, Naoko.”
The yellow fox shuddered. “And the rest of the children's’ party is dead?”
“Yes. I was unable to arrive any sooner.”
“You saved three kits’ lives. The lives of the young are the most precious of all. We can only thank you for what you have done, not condemn you for what you could not,” Satoru said.
“As for what you can do to help the situation with the windigos, leave them be.”
“You ask us to turn our backs on this?” Michio exclaimed.
“I ask you to wait for events to play out they way they need to,” Hammer Strike responded.
“Do you posses any written information we may take back to the emperor to support your request?” satoru asked.
“I’m sorry, but I tend to keep knowledge like this unwritten.” Hammer Strike shook his head.
“Then the emperor will likely order military action,” Naoko sighed.
“Then allow me to tell you of the results of that. You will change nothing, and most likely waste resources,” Hammer Strike shrugged. “But, I have a feeling it’ll be hard to sway the decision of your leader off of the word of one.”
“Not unless you can explain how it will be stopped. Perhaps then our emperor will be satisfied.”
Hammer Strike hummed. “The best I could give you is something cryptic. I shall not say exactly what happens.”
“I am used to Cryptic lessons. It is all that gets taught to me,” Michio muttered as he folded his arms. “There is never an easy way or specific instructions like go to this spot at this time and watch the eclipse.”
His head received another thwack. This time Satoru used his paw with two fingers outstretched. “Any aid you can offer would aid us in showing this wisdom to the emperor.”
“It’s been years since I’ve had to be this cryptic,” Hammer Strike muttered to himself. “Winter shall stay for as long as strife is housed within the heart. The day the peaceful heart shines in the sky, summer will return, and the beasts shall be driven back to the land of old.”
“Well, at least the Emperor will have fun solving that riddle.” Michio muttered, his tone still surly, even as a smirk grew on his muzzle.
“If he solves it. I doubt the knowledge is there on some of the things mentioned.” Hammer Strike shrugged.
“But you promise it will end, and the balance will be preserved?” Naoko asked intently.
“For a decent amount of time.”
Satoru lifted his paws. A spark appeared, glowing in bright silvery-white light. It proceeded to grow and shift in his hands until the light faded. “It is the law of our people that all kindness be rewarded to the best of our ability. You have saved us, fed us, saved the kits, and kept them safe, but I am afraid I must ask that you continue to look after them until we may send a larger party to escort them back. In return for all you have done, and will do, should you accept, I offer you this ancient relic passed from one of the spirits of fortune who serves the goddess.” It was quite simply a cloth bag of a rather ugly green color.
“Instead of repaying me in a relic, I would like the repayment to be all of your survival-”
“Do not let its appearance fool you, Ancient Fire.” The Kitsune moved the bag aside and pulled the string to open it. He shook it gently. With a loud thump a full sized table landed on the ground before him. “Our lord Budai made this bag to carry anything and everything. One could even carry living beings inside it, should they be careful.”
“That could be useful incase my coat fails,” Hammer Strike remarked, looking to the bag.
Satoru handed it to him.
After a moment of hesitation, Hammer Strike placed the bag of holding on the table rather than testing it by placing it in his coat. “I made a pack of supplies for your journey, and before you head out I can make you a few new weapons, considering yours were somewhat damaged.”
“As it happens, I believe Naoko holds plans for the weapons he will need. I am sure you will be able to translate them for our host, won’t you, Naoko?”
“I don’t think that will be necessary,” Hammer Strike commented to the trio.
All three of them started in surprise.
“It doesn’t take me long to learn things.”
“While you work on that, may I ask which of the Kits helped with the spells outside the dwelling? I would like to talk with him.”
“Haku.”
“Thank you, Ancient Fire.” Satoru bowed again before rising to his feet and slowly making his way to find the kit in question.
“Instead of calling me Ancient Fire, can you three just use my name?” Hammer Strike asked.
“Of course, Hammer Strike. We live amongst the emperor's court. We are used to those deserving of respect demanding it from us, so forgive us our caution.”
“I’m very different about that. I don’t care for titles.”
“Well, that is something new,” Michio spoke. “Still, I shall do my best, Hammer Strike.”
“Good. Then you three are dismissed. I’ll get to work on the weapons.”
Year 3 Week 6 Day 5
Satoru walked the edges of the grounds with Haku as he had done for the last few days carefully analyzing the spell work. “You have talents, kit,” he noted approvingly.
“A good deal of it came from Hammer Strike. I merely sought a way to incorporate our magics into the enchantments he knew from his own lands.”
“Humility is a good trait for a magician.” Satoru laughed. “It reminds us there are forces we should not tamper with.”
“And some beyond our grasp until the goddess sees fit to bestow us with the wisdom to wield it.” Haku knelt to tend to one of the spell characters he’d had Hammer Strike forge in the marker. With a few scratches and a brief incantation, they glowed brightly again and the barrier shimmered red and blue.
“Have you desired to pursue magic further?”
“I hope to make it a part of my studies. In truth, I’m still not certain exactly what I wish to do. But I suppose my father was right in one respect at least. I have learned more in this one outing than I ever could have in the archives, even if I’d taken a thousand years to study.” He rose and dusted his fur off.
Satoru placed his hands before him, and in a flash of silver fire a small book appeared in his palms. “Perhaps this will aid you on your way,” he said, offering it to Haku.
“What is it?” Haku asked as he took the book in question. “I don’t believe I’ve seen its like in the archives.”
“My notes, my spells. I have no one to leave this with. If I did not make it back alive, my notes might be lost, but I believe if I leave them with you, perhaps you will be able to do something with them.”
“... Thank you. Are you a mystic then?”
“Sharp, too. You’ll do well with magic.”
“I do my best with what the goddess has granted me,” Haku said, bowing.
“Then you will do fine.” Satoru ruffled Haku’s head fur. “Never doubt it.”
“Satoru Sama?”
“Yes?” he asked
“Why do we even have the caste system in the first place?”
“The emperor thinks it prevents us from warring with each other.”
“There is so much talent that simply gets … wasted. It doesn’t make sense. Is there no way to change things?”
“Unfortunately, I am not a politician, kit. I cannot tell you that.”
“After all of this, living with Hammer Strike, I simply cannot see the logic in it. Why would the goddess support such a system where no one is equal, yet all are equal in her eyes?
“You must remember that order itself requires distinction,” the older Kitsune told him. “If we did not distinguish our places in the world, we would have no idea what we must do.”
“But what if we do not wish to live in that place we’ve been assigned? What if we desire a different path?”
“I’m afraid there are some questions we just can’t answer, kit.”
“With all due respect, Master Satoru, that’s not good enough.” Haku shook his head. “Gakushu has talent, but because of the caste system, he can’t choose his career, and even if he did receive permission, he would be frowned upon for choosing what is viewed as an inferior craft. It’s not right.” He shook his head. “It’s simply not right.”
“Many things aren't.” Satoru sighed tiredly. “I wish I could avail your fears, kit, but in seven hundred years I’ve only learned that eventually life will just be unfair.”
“That doesn’t mean we cannot fight to change it.” Determination filled Haku’s gaze as he looked out into the forest. “If one does nothing, then nothing will change, and that which is unfair shall remain so. That cannot be any longer.”
“That may be for your generation then.” Satoru patted Haku’s head. “Unfortunately, mine is on the way out.”
“You still have a few hundred years to go, Master Satoru. And if I receive the opportunity, it would be my honor to be your pupil when we return to Napon.”
“I look forward to seeing you again then, Haku.” Satoru smiled, bowing gently to the younger Kitsune.
“Sayōnara, Satoru Sama.”
“We thank you again for your kindness and your hospitality, Strike Sama,” Satoru said, bowing low to the Earth Pony. The three elder kitsunes had decided that the time to leave had come. And so with provisions for the trip and a careful plan to ensure they would make it home alive, they said their final goodbyes.
“Remember to set those wards up every time you make camp. You have the instructions for removing them to use at the next site, correct?” Haku asked.
Satoru nodded and chuckled. “Yes, young one, we will be fine, you have my word. The research you have made here may prove useful to the college. Do not be surprised if you and your friends receive a summons upon your return.”
“May your travels go easily,” Kurama said, bowing to Michio. “Gakushu is an excellent smith. I know his weapons will serve you well.”
“It is an unusual thing. We have forged our own blades for so long. But this is an unusual time, and a good warrior knows how to adapt. It has been a pleasure knowing you, Kurama, and I am sorry for your loss. Tadashi was a close friend.”
Gakushu shuffled. “Unusual though it may be, we cannot send you out there without protection against those beasts. Also, please note that the tsubas have been enchanted with a spell that should protect you from the cold as a last line of defense. Use their power sparingly.”
“We shall heed your counsel. The emperor will doubtless send a battalion at least. We shall make sure to give them your notes on the creatures and the counter spells for their protection. Expect the party within the year. Two at most.”
“We’ll see about that,” Hammer Strike commented. “Estimates tend to be wrong unless you have the knowledge of how things will go.”
“We need simply have faith. I shall keep the data you have gathered and transfer it into the archives,” Minako said. “What you three have discovered will make you quite famous. I hope you will be ready for that when you return.” He smirked ever so slightly as he turned to join his companions. Then, with their last goodbyes given, the trio passed through the perimeter and out into the wailing cold of the windigos’ storm.
Year 3 Week 43 Day 2
“Hammer Strike, do you think it would be possible to build a fishing boat to fish on the lake? The ice is pretty well thawed out by now,” Gakushu said as he twirled a charcoal stick in the air with his paw while he looked down at some of the drawings he had been working on. He paused as his ears twitched. “I hear something coming up to the front door.”
“Well, from the sounds of things, whoever it is isn’t immediately hostile,” Hammer Strike replied quietly. After a moment, there was a knock on the door. “Not immediately hostile, and surprisingly civil.”
Kurama held his kanabo at the ready. The long oak club was studded with blunted ebony spikes, giving it a fearsome appearance.
Hammer Strike sighed as he moved his way to the door, ensuring that his hoofsteps were heard so they wouldn’t continue knocking. Upon opening the door, he was greeted by an unusual sight. From the looks of the two in front of him, he could swear it was a young Star Swirl and Clover. “Yes?”
The two looked dumbstruck for a moment. Finally Star Swirl cleared his throat. “Please forgive us, sir, but we were led to believe there was no one left alive in this area.”
“That would be because of the heavy concentration of windigos in the region,” Hammer Strike replied. “Which don’t like the orbs of dense flame surrounding my home.”
“How can you talk about windigos so nonchalantly?” Clover finally asked loudly. Hammer Strike realized as he got a good look at her that she really did resemble a blue Twilight Sparkle in her younger years.
“Because I’ve killed enough of them that they don’t bother me,” Hammer Strike shrugged. “Then again, most things don’t bother me.”
All he got in response was two stunned faces from the Ponies.
“They don’t like fire. It’s as simple as that.”
“You are an Earth Pony… yes?” Star Swirl managed to ask. Confusion was clearly written on his face alongside a certain scientific curiosity.
“Yes,” Hammer Strike answered. A slowly growing grin began to form.
“So how exactly did you manage to direct the fire at the windigos?”
In his usual fashion, Hammer Strike’s hooves burst into blue fire. “Very carefully. Tell you what, give me a moment to clear something, and you can come in.”
“Of course.” Star Swirl nodded.
Hammer Strike closed the door and turned to the trio currently sitting off to the side. “Rooms. Remain hidden,” he said softly, giving a faint gesture for them to move.
The three Kitsunes nodded without a word, and made for their rooms as silently as possible.
After he was sure they were in their rooms, Hammer Strike returned and opened the door for the two to enter. “Come inside. I’m sure you’d like to get into a warm environment.”
The two followed him in, carefully eyeing their surroundings as they did.
“Please, sit.” Hammer Strike gestured to the couch.
“This is a large building for just one Pony,” Star Swirl noted.
“I’m bored almost all of the time, so I keep expanding the house.”
“That makes sense, I suppose.” He made his way to one of the chairs by the fire. “So then, I am Star Swirl, royal wizard to his majesty, King Bullion, and this is my apprentice, Clover the Clever.”
“Hammer Strike,” he said. “Now what brings you two out into this region?”
“A bit of an expedition by our… high strung Princess Platinum,” Star Swirl explained. “Clover and I were doing some scouting, and we happened to notice your house seems unaffected by this unending winter.”
“As stated, orbs of condensed flame.”
“Yes, the flames. I must admit I’ve never seen anyone of your tribe able to perform such an act. Is it something you’ve always been able to do?” Star Swirl asked.
“Oh no, none of them can do it. This talent is only possessed by myself,” Hammer Strike clarified.
“Have you any knowledge as to how?”
“Yes. In fact, I have plenty of information on how I am able to use it.”
“Would you mind explaining?”
“No, I won’t. The risk is more than a simple backfire like normal spells.”
Clover opened her mouth, as if to say something, her face contorted with outrage before her teacher cut her off. “Thats fair,” Star Swirl nodded calmly.
“Clover, please, say what you were going to say.” Hammer Strike looked to her.
“That's not fair! Magic like this could save lives! Being able to melt the snow could save crops and and keep Ponies warm!” Clover practically shouted.
“Magic like this takes countless years to learn. And should you try to recreate it and fail, you will not only kill yourself, but more lives than what you would have saved,” Hammer Strike said firmly. “I’ve studied this art for more than forty years, and I still can make a fatal mistake at any moment.”
Clover said nothing while Star Swirl quirked an eyebrow before nodding. “So I’m going to hazard a guess you are not from Chancellor Puddinghead’s expedition?”
“I am by myself. Never met them or any of their kingdom.”
“And I take it you would prefer not to become known to others?”
“I honestly don’t care. Tell them about me if you want, but be warned. I do not care about titles, nor do I care about nobility. Expect no special treatment from me.”
“Well if I may be blunt, you are possibly the scariest Pony I have ever met,” Star Swirl told him flatly. “And I would rather not make an enemy of you.”
Hammer Strike gave a dark chuckle. “Good.”
“Perhaps we will meet in the future,” Star Swirl said. “For now I think it best we return to our group before they send scouts.”
“Definitely for the best.”
“Farewell, Hammer Strike. I hope our paths will cross again.” With that the elderly wizard and his still-confused-apprentice left.
“Oh they will, Star Swirl. They will.”
Two hours later, Gakushu slunk into the room on all fours as he sniffed the air looking ready to bolt. “Who … who was here?”
“Two Unicorns investigating the area due to the lack of snow. You won’t have to worry about them. I gave them enough to keep them away for awhile.”
Gakushu stood up and nodded his head. “I’ll go tell the others that it’s safe to come out.”
“Well that’s a relief. I wonder why Unicorns would be out this far?” Kurama asked, confused after the three had reemerged from their rooms.
“It does seem a bit far afield for their castle, doesn’t it?” Haku agreed.
“They are trying to figure out what to do to clear the endless winter,” Hammer Strike replied.
“And what did you tell them?” Haku asked.
“I told them basic information on why there is no snow here, and to keep their leaders from bothering us, or in the case I explained to them, me.”
“So we are safe for the time being?” Gakushu asked.
“Should be, but keep an eye out,” Hammer Strike instructed.
Year 3 Week 59 Day 7
Gakushu looked at the others as they sat around the table. “So what are we doing for the upcoming year? I want to create a full set of samurai armor.”
“I might expand the house a bit more, work on a training room possibly,” Hammer Strike shrugged.
“Kurama would be most grateful,” Haku said as he pored over the spellbook Satoru had given to him.
Gakushu laughed as he tossed a small metal ball at Kurama, who was busily reading a small book about sword fighting one of the other Kitsunes had left him.
Karuma caught it casually. “Armor would be nice.” He nodded, not looking up from his book.
“Either Gakushu or myself will look into that,” Hammer Strike replied.
“How about both? He really has gotten very good. Perhaps a collaboration would help press him towards his next stage,” Haku said.
“I like that idea. You can see how I am coming along and show me better techniques.”
“Alright,” Hammer Strike replied.
Gakushu grinned happily as his tails swished back and forth. “Great!” He paused as he looked at a timepiece. “Oh, we have just a few minutes left before we start our fourth year!”
“A time to reflect on time passed and loved ones departed.” Haku casually flicked a finger as a cup of tea levitated on a shimmering red cloud to his hand. He blew on it gently and sipped deeply. “And the future that lies ahead.”
“A time to give thanks for what we have received.” Kurama nodded as he took his own cup and sipped it. “And look forward to what is yet to come”
“A future we can and will build with our own paws,” Gakushu added.
Haku raised his cup. “To the new year.”
Kurama nodded as he lifted his cup to Haku’s.
Gakushu raised his cup, looking to Kurama. “To the new year.” He smirked as he flicked his left ear. “Fifteen seconds.”
Hammer Strike smiled softly. “To what the new year brings.”
“May the goddess bless it,” Gakushu replied as the clock Hammer Strike had carved and forged chimed midnight.
The four friends struck their cups together and smiled as they brought them to their lips. Hammer Strike’s cup shook ever so slightly as he brought it closer. He stared at it momentarily, confused. The shaking grew more intense, the cup fell, spilling its contents all over the table. “Okay, that’s–” Hammer Strike was cut off as his speech slurred, his eyes rolled into the back of his head, and much to the dismay of the three kits, he collapsed onto the floor with a final crash that left a significant dent in the wooden floorboards.
Year 4 Week 1 Day 1
Kurama and Haku groaned with effort as they rolled Hammer Strikes body onto one of the beds. “Is he breathing?” Kurama asked as he panted.
Haku held a steady hand over Hammer Strike’s muzzle. “Yes, but it’s very shallow. Whatever this is, it’s happened very suddenly. And considering none of us are following suit, I would say it’s a fairly safe bet to guess the food and environment aren’t responsible.”
“Then what happened? Did he get cursed? Did we do something to anger the goddess?” Gakushu asked as he sat down on the floor to recover from their exertions.
“He’s a Pony. You know as well as I do that Faust would have protected him,” Kurama said.
“Then what happened?” Gakushu’s eyes suddenly widened and he began to tremble. “We need to check on the orbs. What if his going down will cause them to snuff out? We’ll be at the mercy of the windigos.”
Haku shook his head. “Hammer Strike enchanted them to be self sustaining. They will not fail. Still, whatever this is, it has left him in a comatose state. I may be able to perform a spell to analyze his chakras, but I am dubious as to whether it will work. It requires a certain level of mastery to accomplish properly.”
“And we are all apprentices.” Gakushu shook his head. “Well this is a nice way to start the new year. How long do you think he will be like this? Can we survive without Strike Sensei?”
“He’s taught us just about everything he knows about surviving and tending the land. We will be able to survive. And we are not entirely as defenseless as we used to be. Those windigos will have a great deal of difficulty killing us this time around,” Haku replied.
“Still, we’ll have to approach this carefully,” Kurama said. “You know herbs, right, Haku?”
“I made a fairly in depth study back at the archives, yes.”
“Is there anything I could retrieve that would help him?”
Haku shook his head. “Not without a proper diagnosis, no.”
“Then what do we do?” Gakushu asked as he pounded the bed post with a balled up paw.
“We wait. We watch. And if he does not improve, we will discuss a proper course of action,” Haku said simply. “For now, all his symptoms seem to suggest a severe case of exhaustion.”
Year 4 Week 1 Day 5
Haku sat patiently taking notes on the paper they’d made from materials in their greenhouse. In the last few days, Hammer Strike had returned to consciousness a total of approximately ten times, lasting just long enough to get some food and water down his throat before he relapsed into unconsciousness. The good news was that it appeared Hammer Strike was not in any immediate danger. The bad news was they still didn’t quite know what was wrong. Hammer Strike always passed out before they had the chance to ask.
Haku sighed as he laid his makeshift brush and paper aside and ran a paw down Hammer Strike’s mane. He held the paw over the Pony’s heart to feel breathing and detect heartbeat. As it had been the last few days, so it was now. Hammer Strike’s body temperature felt cooler than normal. There was no danger of hypothermia, but the distinct lessening of temperature was a great concern in and of its own right. The sense of his vast power that had first saved them in the clearing so long ago had dwindled to a pale remnant like the last embers of a dying fire.
Haku shook his head. “Hammer Strike, how are we supposed to be able to help you with this of all things?” He sighed wearily, rubbing his baggy, bloodshot eyes. The spellbook he had so happily accepted before lay upended and opened like a folio of papers. A great pile of scribbles, scrawls, and crumpled paper had formed around it, scattered in various places across the desk. No wisdom had been forthcoming from the volume, and any secret places Hammer Strike may have created for himself remained undiscovered, despite their best efforts.
“Rest now, Haku. I’ll keep the vigil tonight,” Kurama said, walking in with a cup of tea.
Haku let out another heavy sigh. “It’s just so frustrating, Kurama. All this knowledge available, and none of it can help him.”
“You once told me that to deny myself rest would only lead me into trouble. This wisdom is true for a mage as well as a warrior. Sleep. Let your brain meditate on today’s events, and perhaps the goddess will aid you in your dreams, or the moon maiden will offer you some glimpse of wisdom you have overlooked,” he said, setting the glass before the bedraggled Kitsune. “He will not die tonight, Haku.”
“... And I don’t plan on dying anytime soon,” Hammer Strike commented quietly.
“Hammer Strike Sama!” Haku exclaimed, accidentally lapsing into the formal mode of address. The pair were quickly at the Earth Pony’s side.
“How long have I been out?”
“Since the last time you were conscious, or in total?” Haku asked.
“Both.”
“Almost five full days total. About ten hours since last time,” kurama said.
“Delightful,” Hammer Strike said dryly as he took a few breaths. “I can’t feel my field, nor magic…”
Kurama rushed from the room and returned with a glass of water, hastily offering it to Hammer Strike.
Hammer Strike began to sit up, accepting the water. “Thank you, Kurama.”
“We have been trying to figure out just what happened, but so far we still don’t know. Still, this is a good sign. You’re far more alert than you have been the last few days, and you can hold a proper conversation. That would imply some form of recovery,” Haku said.
“Do you remember what I told you about my power, Haku? About how it affects me?”
Haku nodded. “I have been trying to find a way to rekindle it.”
“You can’t. The energy needed is… too much.” Hammer Strike seemed to drift off for a moment before his eyes snapped back open. “I think I know what it is, but I’ve only encountered it while physically hurt to the point of being bedridden.”
“Are you well enough to explain, or do you need more rest? If the main danger is past, I believe we all can breathe a sigh of relief.”
“I should be fine,” Hammer Strike assured. “My power is made from certain forces. Think of them like fire and earth, my strength and my control of fire. Something infected it, and I began to see visions of the future, of the past, time itself. It’s harmful to have the field overtaken by something different than it should be. Unfortunately, the only way to clear it is to empty it.”
“So your power essentially snuffed itself in order to purge itself?”
“Yes. But I need it to live, so when it ran dry...”
“Your body shut down as much as it could to keep you alive on the energy you had left?” Kurama asked
“Essentially.”
“Did you know this was going to happen?” Haku asked.
“Not this drastically, nor this soon.”
“They why didn’t you tell us about it? It would have saved us a great deal of worry,” Haku said somewhat irritably.
“There were no signs, and I’ve never felt it on it’s own. If I told you when it occurred to me, could you have remembered it for two and a half years?”
“Yes,” Haku said tiredly as he struggled in vain to hold back a yawn.
“You’d be surprised at how many cannot. Go get your rest, both of you.”
“Hammer Strike …”
“Haku, I’m not going to die anytime soon. Go get some rest.”
Kurama put a paw on Haku’s shoulder. “Sleep, Haku.”
“Kurama, I–” He looked at that stern gaze and knew he was in no condition to succeed, even if he did have the winning side of the argument, which he didn’t. He sighed and dropped his head, then began to rise with Kurama’s support. “Alright. But I will be back first thing once I wake,” he insisted.
“I’ll be here.” Kurama nodded as Haku slowly shuffled his way out.
Year 4 Week 2 Day 1
Hammer Strike sighed to himself as he laid in bed. He didn’t have the energy to move around and do anything, leaving him very, very, bored. He heard Kurama, Haku, and Gakushu wandering the house doing their own things.
“Bored to death yet?” an all-too-familiar voice spoke up.
“Wow, I thought terrible puns were above your pay grade,” Hammer Strike groaned. “What do you want, Death?”
“Well you can see me, so this shouldn’t take too much longer,” Death noted. “That's usually the last step.”
Hammer Strike chuckled. “That’s funny. I’m sorry, Death, but I know the outcome of this, and I’m afraid your list doesn’t have my marked death here.”
“Then why am I here?” Death asked.
“Because either you think I’m dying, or you’re incredibly bored.”
“Maybe. To be honest, I’m still getting used to the job.”
“You mentioned something about replacing the old Death, so how recent was the change?”
“A hundred years or so.”
Hammer Strike hummed. “Pretty recent, I guess. I’m sorry to say, but you won’t be claiming my soul for a long time. Don’t worry though, I’ll tell you when I’m actually dying.”
“...I know you're not lying, or at least you don’t think you are, but somehow I feel I’m going to regret this moment someday.”
“You will, don’t worry.”
“So then we’ve met before?”
“Yeah, though our meetings aren’t on the best of cases, which is a shame really.”
“No mortal has said that line to me before.” Death chuckled.
“And you’ll learn that I’m not like any of them.” Hammer Strike reached over and patted Death on the shoulder.
“You just touched me,” Death noted in alarm.
“Yep.”
“And you're still alive.”
“Yep.”
“Are you a god or something?” Death asked as a long scroll popped up in front of him.
“Nope,”Hammer Strike replied. “Wouldn’t want to ever be one either. Too much pesky business.”
“Oh, Dad is going to love this.” Death face hoofed.
“What? The fact that you’re interacting with a mortal who doesn’t care, or the conversation?”
“Yes,” Death answered.
“This is why we mostly get along.”
Year 4 Week 43 Day 2
Hammer Strike rolled his neck as he placed another log onto a sled he had made in order to move wood around easier. “Alright, ten logs should be fine for a month of firewood.”
A stiff breeze suddenly kicked up at Hammer Strike’s side. There was a loud thump and a blur buffeted into a nearby bush.
“Huh, windy,” Hammer Strike shrugged to himself as he began to strap the harness on. Once it was secure he began his way back home, knowing for a fact that someone was following him.
Meanwhile the bush rustled as a pegasus stallion stood up. He had light blue fur with a mane that was streaked orange yellow and black. He wore Pegasus armor and a large helmet with a fan that indicated him as a commander.
“Whoever this spy is, he seems to be very strong, Pansy,” Commander Hurricane said.
From several feet away behind a tree, a light brown Pegasus with a powder-blue mane peeked out. “Perhaps he’s not a spy? Maybe he just lives here, sir,” Pansy squeaked out.
“Nonsense, Pansy. It’s obvious the Earth Ponies knew we’d be coming this way, and so Chancellor Puddinghead sent this Earth Pony out here to appear to be living here. A clever strategy, but he doesn’t know that we know about it, and that gives us the advantage.”
“But what if he knew that we’d find out about it, and planned around it, sir?”
“Never fear, Pansy. For we shall simply plan around the plan he has made to plan around us,” Hurricane said as if it was so simple.
“But, sir, he seemed to not even realize you hit him, and you were going pretty fast. Maybe we should go back to the camp and get reinforcements?”
“And give him time to set a trap? No. We shall handle this ourselves.” Hurricane stomped his hoof authoritatively. “Now then, come along, private.” Hurricane took to the air without another word.
“Join the army they said. It’s an honor they said,” Pansy muttered, joining Hurricane in the air.
Hammer Strike groaned as he entered their home. “Haku, Kurama, get into the basement forge with Gakushu, and stay down there. Guests are bound to be over in a minute.” Neither Kitsune responded as they dropped what they were doing and did as they were told.
Hammer Strike stood by the door, listening to the quiet sounds of wind outside, soon interrupted by wings, and then the creaking of wood on the patio. Before they could knock on the door, however, he pulled it open, revealing the two Pegasi.
The larger of the two charged him instantly, only to be sent flying as Hammer Strike brushed him away with a hoof.
“Um...excuse me, Mister Spy, but we’d like to invade your cottage for a forward operating base. You know…. if that's okay with you,” the remaining pegasus said, wilting with every word.
“No.”
“...Okay.” The pegasus in question turned and started to walk away.
The cold winter winds howled as whips of ice lashed at the Pony’s flanks. Thick, heavy flakes fringed the shy Pegasus’ armor in ice as the commander awaited at the edge. He put up a bold front and laid a supportive wing on the smaller one’s shoulder. The pair stepped out beyond the barrier and were lost to the storm for a few moments before they walked back inside again. They blinked disbelievingly at their surroundings, then shivered. The larger, stronger stallion held to his subordinate, supplying what warmth he could manage as they made their way back to the door with chattering teeth.
“Um, S-s-sir, perhaps we could try being a teensie bit nicer? After all, we don’t know if he’s really a spy, and we live up in the clouds anyways, so how could he spy on us when we live all the way up there?”
“Don’t be fooled, Pansy,” Commander Hurricane growled. “It’s all a ruse.”
“Then how come they’re all nice and cosy in a warm house while we’re out here in the cold? With all due respect, sir, I think we’re the invaders here.” Pansy shuddered and withdrew even further. Icicles had begun to form on her wings. “S-s-spies or not, if we don’t ask for their help, we’re going to die,” she whispered, trailing off to a barely perceptible whimper.
“I suppose a temporary alliance is necessary,” Hurricane sighed in defeat. Slowly the pair approached the heavily reinforced door.
“You might want to take off your helmet, sir. It’s good manners, and it might show we just want to talk instead of, you know, trying to do a hostile takeover?”
“Very well, Pansy.” Hurricane rolled his eyes as he removed his helmet. “You may knock.”
Pansy reached up a timid hoof, only for the door to open once again before she even had the chance to finish the knock.
“E-e-excuse me, um … sir, but … my c-c-commanding officer would l-l-like to speak with you,” Pansy chattered.
Hammer Strike stared blankly at the two of them before sighing. “Alright, let’s hear it, what do you want to talk about?”
“It is your lucky day, civilian. You are privileged with the opportunity to offer lodgings to Commander Hurricane himself for the duration of this storm.”
After a moment Hammer Strike slowly closed the door. “Goodbye.”
“W-wait!” Pansy shoved a hoof into the door frame. “Please, sir. We’re cold and hungry, and the storm has separated us from our camp. We can’t even fly in this weather. Our feathers freeze before we can get above the clouds. If you could find the kindness in your heart to put up with us for a little while, we really would appreciate it. Please?” she asked, staring at him with her large, cute eyes.
“You I can stand. It’s your commanding officer who needs to learn one important thing about me. I don’t care about titles. If you want my respect, earn it.” Hammer Strike frowned. “So, you’re free to enter, but I want to hear something different from him.”
“Thank you.” Pansy nodded her head, then looked pointedly at her commander and coughed ever so lightly, her eyes motioning towards the stallion.
Hurricane sighed and rolled his eyes “May we please have shelter from the storm?” he groaned.
Hammer Strike took one step over, giving them space to enter the house.
Pansy slowly plodded her way in and immediately made for the fireplace, plopping down on the rug as she allowed the warmth of the flames to bathe her wings and help them to defrost. For some reason, she looked especially cute and vulnerable here as the light of the flames flickered in her eyes.
Hurricane eyed the home as he entered slowly hoof after hoof. “So where are your allies?” Hurricane asked suspiciously.
“Non-existent,” Hammer Strike replied as he closed the door. “It’s just been me here for nearly five years now.”
“A likely story,” Hurricane said as he moved near Pansy.
“I figured the commander would have an impressive set of armor, well protected and whatnot. So why don’t you?”
“This is the best armor the Pegasi blacksmiths have ever made,” Hurricane said, insulted.
“As a smith myself, I find that very depressing.”
“How dare you insult my armor!”
“You’re wide open!”
“My barrel and chest are covered, and my helmet covers my head. My armor does not hinder my wings or my tail, so how am I open?”
“The joints, your rear, legs, and the back of your neck are wide open. One well placed cut or arrow, and you’re going to deal with issues.”
“One day, when we have conquered this land, legions of Pegasi shall wear this armor in shining gold plates to honor me!”
“Come here for a moment.”
“And why would I do that?”
“Do you want improvements, or do you want me to continue?”
Hurricane rolled his eyes. “Very well. We are stuck during this storm. I suppose no harm could come from humoring you,” he said, stepping to stand before the Pony smith.
Hammer Strike led him to an open room with random pieces of training equipment and dummies.
“You seem to have kept yourself busy,” Hurricane noted, looking around.
“I deal with an issue that keeps me from sleeping for weeks on end,” Hammer replied. “I want to show you a few things, and perhaps you’ll make adjustments to them when you return. But it’s your choice on whether you listen or not,” he finished, grabbing one of the training swords.
“Such as?” Hurricane asked warily.
“The biggest weak points you have.”
“This should be interesting,” Hurricane chuckled. “Alright then, show me.” He lowered himself near the ground and engaged his positively archaic wingblades.
It was over far too quickly. The next few seconds were filled with movement as Hammer Strike struck hurricane in every major weak point of his armor while nimbly dodging the Pegasus’s wing strikes. Hurricane thumped to the ground less than two minutes after they’d started.
“And that is the match.”
“But … how?” Hurricane said weakly.
“I told you. While you think you’re protected, you leave yourself wide open, and the armor doesn’t help.”
Hurricane couldn’t find the words to respond, so he stared weakly in shock instead.
“I am giving you this knowledge to better yourself. You can either accept it or forget it,” Hammer Strike said, placing the training blade aside.
“Why would an Earth Pony help a Pegasus?”
“Because I don’t care if you have wings or a horn. I do not care about titles of nobility or any of those things. I see you as an equal, but only if you can show that in return.”
Hurricane just stared, awed and humbled for the first time in a long time.
“Now come on. This room isn’t properly ventilated just yet. It’s only going to stay cool. It won’t warm up.”
With a groan Hurricane managed to move to his hooves and follow.
Meanwhile, back at Hammer Strike’s mine the large stone tunnels stood empty as they had for over a week, and would continue to do until the storm broke. All was silent except for a very faint, gentle ping of steel against stone. It came from behind the floor at the southern wall of the mine. The sound continued to grow in pitch and volume as the stone shook slightly. Loose dust began to fall away, first in grains, then in handfuls, then in torrents. Small pebbles began to jump with each vibration. Then with a crack and a shower of stone fragments, something smooth and pointed gleamed in the low light. The steel tip of a pickaxe had broken into the mine from below.
Year 5 Week 32 Day 3
Hammer Strike frowned as he looked over his tools. For almost a year now one of his tools had been vanishing every other week. Gakushu had no idea where they went. Kurama and Haku hadn’t even entered the mines in over a year, so they didn’t know either. “I swear that’s the tenth pickaxe this year,” he muttered to himself.
This wasn't the only issue that Hammer Strike had noticed in the last few weeks. He had made a point of leaving certain ore veins open in case he needed them later, and so far many of them had vanished. At first it was the less useful metals like gold, but now several veins of iron and other stronger ores had seemingly vanished. Even the coal seemed to be wandering off. Also, somehow the stones seemed to be rearranging themselves. At first Hammer Strike had figured it was just him, but after a few visits he began faintly marking certain stones, and several times he had found the marked stones in completely new sections of the mine. It was clear someone had found his mine.
“Uh, Senesi, we’re going to use our secret floor. One of Haku’s perimeter markers went off. You have visitors heading your way. Please be safe, Sensei,” Gakushu said with a nervous bow. Haku and the others soon followed suit.
“Wonderful. I wonder if this is going to be a repeat visit. Or am I going to meet the Earth Ponies?” Hammer Strike sighed heavily.
“I do not know, but bye.” He yipped as he dashed for the hidden panel into their escape tunnel.
Hammer Strike sighed as he began to move towards home, muttering to himself about too many problems. Upon reaching the house he opened the door and paused before turning around and glancing out.
A female Earth Pony with a brown coat and a broccoli-green mane and tail stood there on the path. Unlike Pinkie Pie, this one was zipping around without the bunny hopping, though she looked around with about the same speed as the famous party Pony from the future. “Oh, hello. I have to say, this is amazing, Smart Cookie. I mean this was all snow and cold and ice, and yet, here we have a warm oasis. I can sense so much magic, not just Earth Pony, but how could this be? Somepony’s been moving rocks all over the place, but I don’t feel your kind of magic here.” Her eyes widened. “I smell a smithy! Ooh, ooh, ooh, I love smithies!” She clopped her hooves together excitedly. “Well come on, Smart Cookie, maybe they can help barter for some warm weather gear and stock us up on food. Oh I hope they have sweets. I haven’t had any sweets in ages!”
Smart Cookie, a chestnut stallion with a sparkling blonde mane and tail sighed heavily. “Yes, Chancellor Puddinghead,” he said. “And maybe we can see about getting a replacement map while we’re at it?” he said, lifting the tattered remains of parchment that had once been their guiding instrument. A head-shaped hole had been made right through the middle, making it impossible to navigate.
“But why? That map would never work. To find warmth we would have gone off the edge of it anyway. What then? We can’t just draw onto the edge of the map. That would take up valuable supplies,” Puddinghead responded. She quickly donned a rather outrageous hat and grinned widely as the door to the mysterious cabin opened to reveal a tall, solidly built Earth Pony covered in scars. He’d clearly seen combat, and the tired look behind his eyes was only added to by the thick beard he sported.
“Ooh, an Earth pony. You must be the owner of this land. So, how’s the farm? And… do you smith? You look like you smith, and you sure do smell like a smith.” A sharp tail yank from behind soon brought her back into focus. “Oh, right, most Ponies outside of my tribe don’t like me licking their fur, but I bet you taste like a smith, too. But yeah, we need room for five nights so I can raid your pantry and cook up a storm for the next few weeks on the trail, and then I’d like to commission some better armor against the cold, and maybe buy a few blankets as well. Oh, and maybe some fur to line my hat and keep my head warm. Oh yeah, I’m Chancellor Puddinghead, leader of all Earth Ponies. I sure hope you haven’t met those meanies Hurricane or Platinum. Those bullies keep taking all our food. If you’re not helpful I might have to just claim this land for my tribe and not move on.”
Hammer Strike stared blankly at the Pony in front of him before sighing. “To respond to all of that, first my farm is fine. Second, I am a smith. Yes, I would prefer you don’t lick my fur. I might be able to arrange the housing. I don’t know about you raiding my supplies. I don’t have a lot of cooking utensils. I could make you the armor to better serve against the cold. Blankets take time to make, and I would need to make more. The fur to line your hat would take some time. And lastly, nice to meet you, Puddinghead. I don’t care if you’re the leader of all the Earth Ponies because I’ve never met you or interacted with anyone associated with you until now. I have met Hurricane. And finally, I wouldn’t let you claim my land. Being passive aggressive won’t help you here.”
Smart Cookie groaned and rolled his eyes in a longsuffering manner as he laid a hoof on his nose and shook his head. “Look, do you think you could put up with us for a few days, and maybe help me get a new map? Our last one had some ... issues.”
“If you don’t bother me while I work, and don’t act passive aggressive with me, then perhaps I can help, Hammer Strike replied. “Thankfully I had the hidden room stocked with supplies to last two weeks,” he thought to himself.
“Well, maybe some help on making a good ladle would be nice,” Puddinghead spoke up.
Year 5 Week 33 Day 1
“I don’t know how to feel about that nonsense,” Hammer Strike muttered as he gave an all clear knock on the floor, letting the three know they were free to come up again.
“Is anything else missing from the forge that hasn’t been given to our guests?” Gakushu asked as he pulled himself up from the secret hole in the floor.
“Thankfully I just gave them spare stuff.”
“So, shall we look at the forge and hunt down what is happening to our gear?” He paused before adding on. “If that is what you wish, Sensei,” he said with a short bow.
“I tried already. The tunnels have changed. They’re unfamiliar to me now. Markers are gone, and now it’s just a spiral of a mess. I’m glad my personal project was kept in here.”
“So what do we do, start a middle cave? Dig down?” Gakushu asked. “Something is happening and nothing I seem…” He paused. “Maybe… I have a trick up one of my tails that might help us. I’ll need two weeks to get it set up, but it should do the trick. We should start by removing more of the stone to create that guest house you wanted to work on, build up a foundation or something.”
“Go for it. I need to continue work on my project. I want to finish it before I forget anything,” Hammer Strike said as he made his way towards the basement forge.
“Very well, Sensei. I shall start work, but maybe I could have a small forge on the grounds outside the caves as well? That is, if you feel I am ready to run my own small forge.”
“I don’t mind you using the forge, but if you want to try your paws at making a forge of your own, I can show you some tricks,” Hammer Strike said, fishing out a small box from a chest.
“I look forward to that,” Gakushu answered happily, and with great vigor.
“Should we post a watch?” Kurama asked.
“Whoever it is, they aren’t moving outside the cave, so I say we just move everything out, take what’s left of the stockpile, and bring it home.” Hammer shrugged as he pulled a ring out of the box and began to move towards the worktable.
“I feel sad we have to abandon the caves.”
“We can still use them. We just can’t store anything in them.”
“Would you like for me to use a teleportation spell? It would make the transfer much simpler and faster than simply carrying the supplies,” Haku suggested.
“If you want. If it comes down to it though, I can just carry it overnight when you all go to sleep.”
“I believe we would rather be of assistance, rather than simply letting you do all the work, Hammer Strike,” Haku said.
“We’ll see which happens first,” Hammer Strike replied as he moved a few gems onto the table and began sorting through them. He would hold each one on top of the ring for a moment before changing to another of its type.
“I’ve never known you to be one for adornment, Hammer Strike,” Kurama said, lifting an eyebrow.
“It’s not for me. I’ve been keeping myself busy, and someone comes to mind every now and then, along with a question I didn’t get to ask before my unexpected departure. So I’ve been remaking this thing.”
“And what is it?” Haku asked.
“An engagement ring,” Hammer Strike replied, looking at the blank expression of the three. “That… isn’t a thing in Napon, I take it?”
“Back home, Gakushu and myself would be meeting our brides in a few years. Their dowries have already been paid. I’ve never heard of someone requesting a ring before,” Kurama said.
“It’s not a request, but… think of it as a way to ... I have no idea how to explain this,” Hammer Strike muttered the last part. “It’s a fancy way of asking her to marry me, with something to show for it, I guess?”
“Is this custom amongst Ponies?” Kurama asked Haku.
“Yes, from what I have seen in my studies, it is customary to exchange some form of token to represent the bond that is being proposed, though it does not always have to be a ring. That is generally reserved among the Unicorns as the standard tradition, since their horns are perfect for wearing rings, and they seem to be absolutely fascinated with wealth as a whole.”
“So it is a symbol of your affection, a gift? What a strange way to show marriage. Is not scent good enough?” Gakushu asked.
“Ponies have different strengths and weaknesses in their senses,” Hammer Strike replied.
“That, and the lust for jewels among the Platinum line is legendary. They will do practically anything for the sake of getting riches,” Haku said.
“One day I’ll be back with her, but until then I am here. I am out and about, working in this large, strange world to help with balance and other nonsense for as long as I live...”
“May our poets one day record your wedding and the love that burns in your heart,” Gakushu muttered with a frown. Emotions swirled in a tightly controlled vortex after hearing the dedication Hammer Strike had for this one mare. Whoever she was, she must be lucky indeed.
Year 5 Week 53 Day 3
Kurama, Haku, and Gakushu stood before Hammer Strike outside the cabin where they had spent nearly six years with him. They had spotted smoke on the horizon a week ago, and then the previous day a messenger had come informing them a small contingent of warriors and powerful fire mages had been sent, and where currently camped out not far away. The force would give them until noon the following day to take care of any business they needed.
Kurama checked the straps on his armor another time. The ebony shingled plates fit his body snugly. Hammer Strike had personally worked on the undermail, making it both strong and light, and there was no reason to doubt that the armor would protect him for many years to come with proper care. “You helped me to find my center,” he told Hammer Strike as he did his best to hold an emotionless face. He held the black crested helmet at his side, the snarling dragon-faced mask hanging loosely as it waited to adorn his face. “I will never be able to repay what you have done for me.” He did his best to hold back tears as he bowed low to Hammer Strike.
“Kurama, the best way to repay me is to live your life to the fullest,” Hammer Strike replied softly. “Live honorably.”
Haku stepped forward in his finest robe and bowed out of respect. “You have helped me progress so much as a spell caster, but more importantly as a person. I thank you for your mercy, and I hope that one day during your many adventures you will come to visit us at Napon. If the goddess grants me her grace, I intend to overthrow the caste system so that we need no longer suffer being forced to be that which we are not.”
“I know you will one day, Haku. As for me visiting Napon, I’m sure I’ll be around eventually, but I don’t know how long it will be before then. You know what my history is like.”
Gakushu stood garbed in a set of light armor he had crafted with a small handcart that held examples of not just his own tools, but of Hammer Strike’s to prove his own worth as a smith, and that of his teacher. He gave the Earth Pony a small bow. “Thank you for the great lessons, and the teachings. It is my hope to incorporate the skills and tricks you have taught me back home to bring a new look to some of our blades. And when you do visit, I shall have a new Katana made for you to wield. It will be my finest work.” He frowned, but only a moment before he spoke his mind, as his sensei had taught him. “May I name a kit after you after I marry and meet my wife in two years?”
Hammer Strike chuckled. “If you want. And I can’t wait to see how far you progress in the years before I arrive.”
“You can count on that,” Gakushu answered with a grin.
In unison the three kitsune bowed low before Hammer Strike, their left paws held flat facing there right. “Sayōnara, shisho!” they pronounced in timed unison.
“Until next time, young ones. May your future lead ever on to glory,” Hammer Strike told them.
The three Kitsunes rose and hesitantly turned their backs as they headed in the direction of the camp. Every now and then one would look back, their faces reflecting fear and anxiety for their futures, but still they moved forward until they vanished from sight.
Hammer Strike stood on the porch of the house, watching them leave. As soon as they were out of sight a tear rolled down his muzzle. “The first time we meet, and for two of you, the last...”
Hammer Strike dragged his hooves ever onward as he pulled the next set of logs behind him towards the house. He didn’t need them, but the habit had formed over the years, and he couldn’t stop himself. He felt empty. With the three kits around he almost always had something new to work on, something different to teach, to learn, to show. But now there was just him and his thoughts, and admittedly they weren’t the best.
Once a month, go collect firewood, chop it. Mine for resources. He would help Gakushu in smithing, Haku in magic, and Kurama in fighting. Yet now his days were empty. He finished the house, he dug out too many resources, and he never needed to return for more. He had his equipment, he had everything he could need, but it was still a hollow victory.
Somewhere off in the distance a strange gasping, grinding sound echoed through the forest.
Hammer Strike’s ears twitched at the noise, but other than that he continued to chop wood at the side of his home, his mind distracted and idle.
“We’re definitely here this time,” The Doctor said triumphantly as he pulled the brake and the TARDIS materialized fully. Behind him Grif, Rarity, and Vital Spark looked very un-amused while Derpy bit into another muffin. As for Pensword, he had the glint of excitement in his eyes, not even caring if the TARDIS was in the right place or not. Balancing on a hoof was the concentration crystal from a Dalek eye stalk.
The entire group, with the exception of Vital Spark, was covered with singed fur and feathers and several larger, more serious burn marks. Grif and Pensword both had several new scars from stab wounds. The group had literally been all across time and space, and had been forced to face Sontarans, Daleks, Cyber Ponies, Slitheens, and the Nimon. They had been stabbed, shot, tortured, and many other unpleasant things they preferred not to think of.
Grif made his way to the door. “Alright, Doctor, I’m going to open the door. If, for some reason, an alien is on the other side of the door, you’re going to need another regeneration. And I really don’t care if that breaks time.”
“I’m positive there is nothing beyond that door!” The Doctor gulped. “I hope.”
“Well if there is, we can handle it.” Pensword was smiling of all things. “After this, I am sadly going to be commanding desks, so I am so ready.”
“As long as you don’t lock me up again. Seriously, guys, I could’ve helped. Clover’s started teaching us combat magic,” Vital complained.
“Believe me,” Grif said as he ran a claw across a new scar near his left shoulder. “It wasn’t enough.” With a sigh he drew a scissor grenade he had stolen off a Sontaran and threw open the door. The cold air hit him full in the face as he looked out into the heavily wooded area. “Well at least we’re not being attacked yet.”
“Could be like Tans Five,” Pensword muttered.
A distant whinny sounded on the winds.
“That’s a Windigo!” Pensword shouted in shock and horror.
“What makes you think that, dear?” Rarity asked with a raised brow.
“Because, Time Machine, problems when we show up, cold blast hitting Grif, and whinny. The natural assumption is we are facing a Windigo.”
“Always threats with you military types.” The Doctor sighed. “Well come along, Derpy, we have someone to find.”
“Coming, Doctor,” Derpy cheered as the group slowly filed through the exit.
Vital looked pointedly at the ship’s control console. “Now will you let me out?”
Pensword paused at the doorway. “Just try walking out. The worst that always happens is you hit an invisible wall.”
Vital Spark sighed. “I guess I can’t grudge her that. And at least she landed me someplace soft when she threw me back last time.” He took a deep breath. “Alright, I’m coming through.” He placed a tentative hoof in front and cautiously made his way to the door. At last he made his way outside and turned to face the console once more. “Finally! Thank you,” he said.
“Okay, I guess we split up into groups of–” Grif started.
“Or we can just follow the tracks leading to those big, glowing orbs of pure sunlight over there,” Vital Spark said.
“...Fine,” Grif sighed. The group headed off in the direction of the lights. Eventually a building took shape in the distance. It was a large two story high log cabin complete with windows, a chimney, a porch, a side shed, a cellar entrance, and a path leading to a nearby mountain cave. While taking in the view they heard the steady thunk of wood being chopped.
Grif drew a sword as they approached, not prepared to take any more chances. As the group rounded the corner they stopped. Grif and Pensword both took a full minute to recognize the Pony chopping wood in front of them between the full beard, the thicker fur, and the lack of an overcoat.
“Grif, did ... did we finally actually find him?” Pensword asked.
“What happened to him?” Grif asked back
“So, who’s here this time? Puddinghead? No, too quiet. Hurricane?” Hammer Strike never turned towards them, instead continuing his work. He didn’t hear their voices, obviously. “I already told you I can’t keep showing you flaws in your armor. You need to figure it out yourself.”
“Hammer Strike?” Grif said, approaching him slowly as he sheathed his blade.
Hammer Strike turned around, his eyes focusing on the Gryphon. “Have we… met…?” Hammer Strike blinked a few times. “Grif?”
“It’s me.” Grif nodded. “Are you okay, Hammer Strike?”
Hammer Strike looked Grif over a few times, eventually changing to look behind him. “It’s ... really you? I’ve not gone mad?”
“Hammer Strike?” Rarity approached, doing her best not to recoil from the unkempt condition of the Earth Pony’s beard and mane. “It’s us. We’re really here, darling.”
“I-I’ve been here, waiting for you all. I was wondering if rescue was coming or not,” Hammer Strike said, looking them over again.
“We were … sidetracked.” Grif sent a glare in The Doctor's direction before turning back to Hammer Strike. “But I did enjoy it, I got to learn more military training, and we do have a few unofficial treaties from a space race in two thousand years.” Pensword spoke.
Grif glared Pensword into silence before returning to Hammer Strike. “How long have you been waiting?”
“It’s been nearly seven years, Grif,” Hammer Strike replied, looking around himself at the house, path, barrier, even the cave. “I’ve been trying to remain… occupied while I waited.”
“Seven years? Seven years of being in a timeline with your other self?” The Doctor’s eyes bulged. “We need to get him out of here as soon as possible,” he insisted.
“My other self? There’s another me here?”
“Shawn, four words. Wibbly wobbly, timey wimey. Now how about we get you back home before the doctor suffers a heart attack in both his hearts, or worse, we start an accidental paradox,” Vital Spark said as he approached and laid a supportive hoof on his friend’s shoulder. “We’ve been trying to reach you for a long time.”
Hammer Strike looked to the house. “I need to grab a few things first,” he said, standing up. “Come inside.”
“You know, for a winter deathtrap, this place is actually kind of mild,” Vital pointed out.
“The orbs keep the area warmer. Leave the perimeter and then the cold will set in,” Hammer commented as he moved towards the door.
“So you’ve been living here for seven years. That cannot be good for the mind,” Grif said.
“I had company, but they moved on with the rescue team a year ago.” Hammer Strike opened the door, leading the group inside.
“Rescue…” Pensword paused. “Let me guess, Kitsunes? It Makes sense. We just had them visiting right before this happened.” He sighed and shook his head. “Still, when are we? Pre-unification I want to guess with all the snowstorms.”
“Correct.”
“You look like you could use some cheering up,” Derpy said as she hovered over to Hammer Strike. “Here. Have a muffin.”
Hammer Strike blinked a few times before grabbing the muffin. After a moment he gave a small grin. “Thank you, Derpy. I guess I did need a little something.” He headed towards some of the back rooms. “Go ahead and take a seat in the living room. I’ll be back in a moment.” Hammer Strike left into the back rooms.
“So … he seems to be doing okay at least,” Grif noted as they sat down. “Better than last time we got separated through time.”
“I know. But he looks sad. I think he enjoyed the company, which means ... when are we going to visit the Kitsune kingdom?” Pensword asked
“It means he’s going to have to mourn losing two of those friends, Pensword,” Vital said. “That’s not going to be easy.”
“Right, but he has ... right. I shall try and not to set anything off,” Pensword muttered
“Oh, poor Hammer Strike,” Rarity said. Tears stood in her eyes as she thought of just how hard such a situation must be to bear.
“One step at a time, I guess. No one do anything shocking, okay?” Grif said.
Hammer Strike walked back into the room with a grin on his face. He was wearing his overcoat and usual attire underneath. “Rarity, I’ve been waiting to ask this question for a while now, and I need to ask it before something happens again,” he said as he stood in front of the mare.
Rarity’s eyes widened. “S-something to say? To me?” She began to fiddle nervously with her hooves as a heavy blush filled her cheeks. Hammer Strike drew closer.
Hammer Strike reached into his coat and pulled out a small overdesigned wooden box carved with the symbol of Rarity’s gems crossed by a broadsword. After a second he opened the box to reveal a golden ring with an intricately carved garnet on top. A delicate spiral of gold that condensed itself together to reattach to the base held the large garnet in place. On either side of the garnet, two carved sapphires winked in the firelight. “Rarity, will you marry me?”
Rarity’s eyes swam with tears, her lips wobbled, and she struggled to maintain her breath. “I’m not gonna cry, I’m not going to cry, I am not … going ... to …” And then she cried, racing to embrace Hammer Strike around the neck as she buried her muzzle into his shoulder.
Hammer Strike returned the embrace. “So I’ll take that as a yes?” He finished with a grin.
“Yes!” Rarity wept between gasps for breath as she continued to cling to her coltfriend turned fiancé.
“Uh … Rarity?” Vital Spark asked, concerned. Then he stopped. Hammer Strike was holding up a hoof and gently shaking his head before he ran it down Rarity’s mane and placed the ring on her horn. “Congratulations then, I guess …” Vital said uncertainly.
“Let them enjoy this,” Grif told Vital, pulling him out of the room.
Pensword looked at the console and around the control room. “So, Doctor, can we try to land in the same week?”
“Pensword, I’m pretty sure the TARDIS will drop us at the same time we left. After all, we do have a lot of planning to do for the trip to Napon, and the Grand Galloping Galla, and now two more weddings to top it all off,” Vital Spark said.
“Planning? By the sounds of it, the only thing Rarity doesn’t already have down is who Hammer Strike’s best person is.” Grif smirked.
“Let’s not breach that particular topic till after we’re home, okay?” Vital asked.
“You guys can fight over it.” Grif shrugged. “I’ve got my hands full with other things.”
“What makes you think we’d fight?” Vital asked. “It’s his choice.”
“Fighting? Why would we be fighting?” Pensword agreed. “Also, planning, it will happen. They need to make it their ceremony, not one or the other’s.” He frowned. “And I need to talk to Lunar Fang about holding off on Fox Feather’s ceremony. I am not going to be taking any spotlight from Shawn’s event. So, yeah…. But I do have this question. Who is going to perform the ceremony? I mean Luna and Celestia see him as a father figure, so that would be a little awkward, wouldn’t it?”
“Can’t be cadence either, really. That would be even more awkward,” Grif noted.
“How come?” Vital asked.
“We met her when she was a child,” Grif pointed out. “It’s still awkward.”
“Would it be for Hammer Strike, though? He seems pretty chill most of the time.”
“Well, he did work on saving her Empire,” Pensword began, “And from what I have seen, when it comes to this level of nobility, it would be a scandal not to be married by a…” he paused before facehoofing. “Princess Twilight. A princess marries this high level, and the only one that is available is Princess Twilight Sparkle.” He looked up. “Anypony else suddenly very worried?” he paused again at Grif’s look. “Anyone?”
“She’s going to be off the walls,” Grif sighed.
“Which means the library is going to be a mess.” Pensword sighed. “Poor Spike.”
“We’ll keep her in check. Besides, if she really feels antsy, we can ask her to talk with Celestia. After all, Celestia is the one who performed the ceremony for Shining and Cadence, right?” Vital said with a shrug.
“What makes you think that will help?” Grif asked with a raised brow. “That will just make her more antsy.”
“I agree. Have you not seen how she acts around Celestia?” Pensword responded. “She holds herself to too high a standard for her own good, but I am not going to tell her that. It needs to be done in stages.”
“So who’s best for the job, then?”
“Darlings, darlings, please. Just leave it all to moi,” Rarity said with a stylish flick of her mane. The lights from the console caught the engagement band, refracting tiny blue and purple lights into the round things circling the room.
“Are you really planning on renting out the palace for the ceremony?” Grif asked.
“Why, Grif, I’m shocked. Didn’t you know it’s bad luck to reveal the wedding plans before they’ve been set in motion?” Rarity gasped.
“You're marrying a nigh indestructible stallion with solar fire, near infinite wealth, and his own private army. Luck really doesn’t seem to be something you're lacking here,” Grif noted.
“Don’t mock lady luck in weddings,” Pensword spoke from his place on the floor. “I assure you, things will work out, just leave it alone.”
“Why not mock lady luck? We mock Death all the time,” Hammer Strike commented as he walked into the room. His once overgrown coat had been cut down, his mane cleaned up, and his beard trimmed neatly.
Rarity was immediately hanging from his neck again. “Oh, Hammer Strike, you look wonderful.” She nuzzled him playfully.
“It feels good to not worry about the amount of hair,” Hammer Strike chuckled.
“And your mane feels good, too,” she gushed, even as she ran a hoof through it.
Vital chuckled. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but why don’t you two just get a room already?”
“Later I’m sure we will,” Hammer Strike said.
Pensword paused and looked at Vital. “That would be hypocritical of me to say at the moment, considering how much I miss my wife.” He tried to keep a flat expression before he began to chuckle.
Grif proceeded to burst out laughing.
“Okay, I’m outta here,” Vital said as he quickly rushed into one of the side halls, blushing heavily. “If you guys need me, I’ll be in the hot tub next to the pool.”
“So this is what emotion feels like,” Hammer Strike chuckled to himself.
“It’s so weird seeing you react so much,” Grif noted.
“Consider this a … special occasion. One that might last a long while.”
Hammer Strike’s office hadn’t changed in the time the group had been gone. Indeed, there was no time for it to change as the desk sat stalwartly and waited for its owner to return. Eventually the air began to stir, and the dust sifted as the wind generated by nothing blew papers off the desk and swirled them around in a vortex. Then came the sound, grating and whining in a continuous whirr until blue began to faze in and out to reveal a great police box. At last, with a loud thunk, the box fully materialized and the doors creaked open.
Hammer Strike stepped out of the TARDIS first. After a moment of looking around, he finally said something. “Well, I don’t know if I’m happy to see my office with all the paperwork, or upset that I feel seven years behind on work and it hasn’t been that long…”
“Right. If you’ll excuse me, I need to face the music, or stop the message being delivered,” Pensword said quickly as he raced out the door.
“And I need to look after some … stuff. I’ll be in my office, but if anyone needs me, knock first,” Grif said as he made for the door.
As they left, Hammer Strike hummed to himself. “Now that I think about it, I need to re-remember the layout of Unity once again…”
“And I have a wedding to plan.” Rarity grinned. “By the way, darling, I was thinking of blue and white for the colors. What do you think?”
“I think that would work.”
Vital Spark stepped out and shook his coat again. “I really need to talk with Clover about learning a drying spell for my fur,” he grumbled as he left. Then the TARDIS’ doors shut and the phone booth disappeared, leaving as if it had never been in the first place.
Pensword flew fast down the hallways, racing for the stairs to get up to his suite. Turning a corner, he crashed into Lightning Dust, causing them both to crash into a wall before tumbling to the ground. Pensword shook his head, first to clear it, and second to silence Matthew’s comments on how durable Ponies were.
“Sir?” Lightning Dust spoke, saluting but with confusion in her eyes. “I just talked to you three seconds ago.”
“Right, well, classified information, but I will say this. You do not have to report the message. Consider the mission finished, and the job well done. Report to the Barracks.” He pulled out a parchment and started to write something on it. “Consider a reward of a new uniform as a gift from the commander for a job well done.”
Lightning Dust paused as she had the parchment pushed into her wings. “Uh, under Military code Volume two, section ten, paragraph three, this is illegal.”
Pensword paused, started at her, and closed his eyes slowly. “Not when I served. It was a sign of respect.” He smirked as she took a nervous step back. “Which means I get to redo the entire code of conduct and rules and regulations. Thank you again, Lightning Dust. Please keep that as a souvenir, as it is a prime example of military conduct from a thousand years ago.” He turned around and laughed. “Also, the unit still will get you a new uniform. You are serving in an out of time unit.” He started to walk away. “Oh, and do not try and quote the regulations to me. I wrote the foundations of today’s regulations, and I am definitely going to rewrite them for the future Equestrian Military.”
She just saluted before taking off towards the barracks. He nodded before heading up the stairs, only to stop when he saw the imposing form of Lunar Fang standing at the top, a small grin on her muzzle. “Hello, my love,” he spoke as he finished ascending the stairs.
“I heard your little exchange with Lightning Dust. What happened?” Lunar Fang asked with a flat expression that still couldn’t hide the glint in her eyes.
“Hammer Strike was taken back to the windigo time period. We had to race to make sure another didn’t get the tech, and, frankly stuff dealing the TARDIS and The Doctor.”
Lunar Fang made a face.
“That was my reaction as well. But still, I did get you a trophy for you, my dear.” He pulled out a large blue crystal. “A piece from an enemy that Matthew does not ever want to face, and a gift to you. Still, I am fully prepared to spend time with my daughter, or, if need be, on the couch.”
“How can I punish you to spend time with your daughter? Are you just trying to get into trouble on purpose now?” She huffed. “No, I think a better thing is for you to let the officers handle it on their own. You, sir, are going to spend time with all the family. So go get Fox Feather for me. We’re going to have a nice breakfast. And don’t even think about sneaking into your office. You can work on revising the codes of conduct tomorrow.”
“Right, oh, before I go, I have some news. Shawn and Rarity are going to be married soon.”
“Finally.” Lunar Fang chuckled.
Grif locked his office door and stowed the only key in his pack before throwing the deadbolt and activating the sound dampening crystal he had gotten from Twilight. Next he pulled a thick black curtain across the window, making sure the two opposing ends overlapped each other by a full two feet to keep the entirety of the room hidden. Finally assured that the room was secured, he moved to the desk and tapped the blue crystal, raising the crystal lenses. Four of these made a static sound as they currently lacked someone on the other end, but the other four came into focus to reveal silhouettes.
“The Ace has been dealt. Are all the cards on the table?” Grif spoke slowly, unsure of the limitations in the crystal technology at this time.
“The King has been dealt,” the figure to his farthest left spoke.
“The Queen is on the table,” the next one confirmed.
“The Jack is in play,” the third added.
“And the Ten makes flush,” the final silhouette added. Alongside the images, each voice was warped on the very slight chance someone had infiltrated the network. Grif was likewise assured his own voice and image were equally muffled.
“My friends,” Grif began, “this momentous occasion marks the beginning of our trial run. I know some of you are nervous about what we are attempting, and I thank you for the faith you have put in me to go this far in this venture.” Grif’s eyes fell on Queen and Ten’s crystals specifically. “As you know, Equestria has seen more conflict in the past three years than it has in the last century. Aside from the more notable disasters, there have been surges in kidnappings, organized crime, monster attacks, and, yes, the use of dark magic. The aim of this project is to provide Equestria with the means and resources to act in the shadows when necessary. Now before we make this offical, I offer the council a chance to voice concerns or questions.”
“I still feel we should have brought this idea before pr– er Starfire before we went through with it,” Ten spoke up. “Shouldn’t Veil Walker have been informed as well?”
“Your concern has been noted, Ten, but the purpose of this trial run is to ascertain the effectiveness of this project before bringing in more figures to this trust. Are there any other concerns?”
“Let us vote on it already,” the Jack said. “We can work out the trivialities later.”
“Very well,” Grif responded, smirking to himself. “Dealer calls. What is our hand?”
“The King is in hand.” The response was as instant as Grif would expect. The king had the most to gain from this project; however, Grif’s expression turned terse when he looked to the Queen. The Queen’s support so far had been surprising, but now the moment of truth had appeared, and would she be able to set aside her feelings about the King?
“The Queen … makes her presence known,” the response came after a tense second.
“The Jack joins the party.” The response was once again instant, and Grif was thankful for that.
“While the Ten has reservations, it will stand beside the rest,” the final voice agreed.
“Then Ace makes royal flush, and the house wins,” Grif responded. “Until next time, my friends, look out for your call signs, and expect updates as soon as they are available.” There was no response as the other crystals went blank. Grif chuckled to himself as he swapped the blue lenses for the green ones. This would be the fun part.
In Trottingham’s rundown district, Commander Sisko and Lieutenant Commander Defenbacker where sipping tea in the commander's office while Changelings scurried left and right working to make sure every inch of the base was supplied and running.
In Las Pegasus, Commander Bond looked over at Lieutenant Commander Moneypenny suspiciously over a deck of cards as he fiddled with a bit in his hooves, trying to find some sort of tell for why the anti had just been risen while weapons were checked and double checked, armor was polished, and several groups of Changelings received a wide variety of weapons training.
And in Whinnypeg, Commander Poindexter clinked his beer with Lieutenant Commander Egghead as changelings around them checked and double checked emergency supplies, aid kits, and other necessary resources.
As the green lenses came online all six changelings instantly stopped what they had been doing and sat up ramrod straight, their eyes glowing a faint green color as their hivemind link was temporarily focused on the crystals.
Grif cleared his throat and sat back with his talons in front of him. “Good evening, commanders.” He stopped to bite back a laugh at having said the line before continuing. “The council has agreed that it is time to activate the Homeland Espionage Assassination and Response Tactical Hierarchy. As you know, the HEARTH project has been set aside to make use of your species’ talents for the betterment of Equestrian society, whether it be through the gathering of information, the anonymous aid after disasters, or, should the need arise, the silencing of the dissident and criminal elements within this kingdom. To accomplish these ends you have been granted special permissions and resources. Measures have been taken to assure you will have the opportunities needed to succeed. As you are aware, each of you serves as branches for the many smaller cells of your individual organizations spread throughout Equestria. But remember that, as with any hive, each of you works towards serving a greater whole for the accomplishing of a greater dream. The tasks may be dangerous, but each of you has been brought into this fold for your exceptional skills. While it is true you were bred for these roles, the choice to pursue them is still yours.”
He turned towards the first lens. “Sisko and Defanbacker, you are hereby given official command of the Reconnaissance Espionage and Acquisition Changeling Hierarchy. As leaders of the REACH project, it is your duty to gather intel from Equestria’s criminal underground. Should the need arise, you are authorized in the use of force so long as you do not reveal yourselves. You are also permitted to capture and interrogate key suspects with means you consider necessary.”
His attention diverted to the lens that stood in the middle. “Sometimes a dagger in the ribs is worth a hundred swords on a battlefield, and you, Commander Bond and Lieutenant Commander Monneypenny, are hereby authorized to use the resources of the Tactical Elimination and Assassination Response project. Should project REACH find individuals of unnecessary risk, it will be the responsibility of project TEAR to track down and silence these voices. Trust your brothers, and do not falter in your duty. The life you take may end up saving hundreds more tomorrow.”
Then with a slightly cheerier tone, he turned to the last lens. “And you, Commander's Poindexter and Egghead. Disasters both natural and artificial, and monster attacks continue to plague our fair kingdom. It seems aid is only offered when it is to the advantage of those with the money to afford it. That ends today. The General Response Aid and Support Protocol will dispense medical aid, emergency food, and other necessities to sites affected by disasters. You will not reveal your Changeling forms, and you will continue to mislead all media outlets in order to remain anonymous. It is the hope of the council that your actions will inspire such generosity in others.”
Grif repositioned his head so as to appear to be staring at each lens, and yet none specifically. “You have been given your orders, commanders. The council expects the first reports within the next forty eight hours. And remember, we are always watching. Over and out.”
Grif tapped the green crystal again and the lenses vanished, leaving the desk top clear. He leaned back and grinned to himself, knowing the Changeling commanders were already giving out their first orders. It was official now. He had pushed the stone down the hill. He could only wonder what would happen when it reached the bottom.
A gentle knock sounded at Clover’s door as she levitated various spell books and other advanced magical reference guides. She smiled as her cross referencing spell levitated the corresponding historical passages with details behind the theoreticians and mages who had crafted such wonders.
“Good afternoon, Vital Spark,” she said without even looking up.
“Hello, Clover.” The voice was somewhat timid, but Clover’s ears perked regardless. Something had changed.
“Usually my students cherish the hours we are apart,” she noted. “What can I do for you?” She continued to scan over the scrolls and books. A thousand years of hibernation can really put a mage behind.
“I wanted to tell you I’ve made my decision.”
“Oh?” she raised an eyebrow as she looked up at him for the first time.
He took a deep breath. “Like it or not, this magic is a part of me now. If I don’t learn how to use it properly, I’m just going to hurt more than I can help. It’s taken me a while to accept the fact that magic and I are a thing now; even more so for me to reconcile the differences between this world, where it’s a neutral force to be used as a tool, and mine, where it’s usually viewed as an evil thing.” He sighed. “I guess what I’m trying to say is that I’ve been fighting myself, and it’s been limiting what I can and can’t do. I can’t allow myself to do that anymore, especially after the things that have happened with The Doctor recently. I’m … well, I’m ready to really use magic instead of letting it use me.”
“Good.” She smirked as she levitated a massive tome over to the Unicorn and dropped it in front of him with a loud smack. “Then we can finally get serious.” The title read A Beginner's Guide to Magical Theory by Tybalt the Tremendous.
“I thought we were still going to use Starswirl’s book.”
“My mentor was a genius, but that was the problem. He was born a genius, and thus he died a genius, and believed that everypony he worked with was likewise a genius. My proximity to Platinum made sure I had no such illusions. Tybalt is a much easier to understand starting point. He was born in a small village, and had trouble with magic initially.”
“So this tome Star Swirl’s lab threw at me when I was at the Crystal Empire won’t be a proper starting place?” Vital asked as he levitated said volume over for Clover’s inspection.
“How much of it have you read?” she asked
“Just the bare theory on crafting incantations, a muffling spell, a cross reference on basic magical transference, and a perception filtration spell that I’m guessing was inspired by The Doctor’s technology.”
“And how many times have you come across terms you don’t know with no reference to their actual meaning? How many times have you found yourself staring at equations that need to be comprehended on a dimension you're not yet aware of?” She chuckled to herself. “The old codger had spells in there that could be fatal if cast wrong.”
Vital gulped. “Guess I’m lucky I didn’t get that far yet. You were saying about this basic manual?”
“Tybalt wrote this for Unicorns from humbler backgrounds who desired to be great mages and scholars. It is not as light reading as Star Swirl's book, but it provides glossaries, definitions, and charts regarding important facets of magic.”
“In other words, it’s a college textbook,” Vital Spark said as a grin spread over his face. “That is something I’m very familiar with.”
“You're going to memorize the first five chapters over the next two days. When you do, then we will get to work on refining your technique with what you’ve learned and move on from there.”
Vital Spark winced. “Five chapters in two days? Word for word?”
“General understanding of the material.” Clover rolled her eyes. “Magic is about self expression as much as comprehension. I don’t want you to be Tybalt, just to use his example.”
Vital’s expression brightened. “That I can do.” His magic wrapped around the considerably larger tome and easily hefted it in the air next to him. “Acceptance does wonders for endurance, doesn’t it?” He laughed.
“We shall see, Vital Spark. I don’t tutor mediocre pupils.” She smirked. “So you're going to have to impress me.”
“Then this will either be the shortest learning experience of my life or it will change my life forever. Possibly both, and not necessarily in that order. I’ll do my best.”
“I know you will. You’re not the type to go into anything half baked.”
Vital Spark burst out laughing and shook his head as he wiped the mirthful tears away with a hoof. “If only you’d known me as a kid.” With that he walked back to the door, textbooks in tow. He turned one last time to look back at Clover. “But seriously, thank you, Clover. I want to be able to help more in the time I’ve got left, even if it’s just a little.” With that said, he bowed slightly and made his way out the room and down the hall.
“If only you knew.” She spoke softly enough that he never caught it as she returned to her reading, chuckling to herself.
Pensword smiled as he looked about the room. Dinner was about to be served. Fox Feather and Lunar Fang sat to either side of him while Moon River played in her highchair. Now it was simply a matter of waiting for his friends to join for the meal. He was looking over a list he got from Twilight that codified and alphabetized each item he wanted to bring back from Earth. “Lunar Fang, I know I really enjoy Captain Bunny, but I am not missing this chance to bring back my original stuffed animal.” He frowned. “But what to bring to my family for gifts?” He chuckled as one idea popped up. “A flight book might be good for my Grand Uncle’s family. With a translation sheet, of course.” He was amazed at how well he could talk around holding a pencil in his mouth.
“Have you found a way back then?” she asked curiously.
“According to what I have been hearing between Omni and hints from Discord, yes. So I am going to err on the side of hope, and finalize the notes and lists. And while you are not a thing,” he put down the pencil and looked lovingly at her. “You are number one on my list. I am going to bring you with me.” He frowned. “I cannot Bring Fox Feather, and I am sorry about that, but someone has to stay to run the military and my house while we are gone.” He perked up. “But I shall bring you a world map, and a book that gives an overview of all the nations.”
“I can understand that,” Fox Feather replied with a slight hurt look in her eyes. “But I get to go on the second or third outing.”
“Come again?” Pensword asked with a turn of his head.
“I know you,” she answered with a ghost of a smile. “You have the chance to see a mother and father. You’re not going to just pop over there, say hi and bye, and leave it at that. You are going to go back again.” She looked at the table. “Your eyes still hold the hurt from so long ago.”
Pensword moved to speak, but stopped. “You are right. I will be returning often, but still…” he looked to Lunar Fang. “Contact Luna. There is something I need to make sure of before I leave. This is Matthew’s family, but it is also mine in a way.” He put a hoof to his head. “We need to make sure they are protected. I will not lose another family.”
“I’ll get to it immediately after dinner,” Lunar Fang promised.
“Thank you.” Pensword smiled as he looked over at his daughter. “Maybe when she is older we can have her meet her cousins.” He chuckled as he watched her antics, pushing one of her smaller stuff animals, a giant mouse, around on the tray in front of her.
“I wonder what Fizzpot and Preston have cooking. I’m honestly surprised they wanted to treat us tonight. I did not even know they could cook.”
Vital Spark grinned as his hooves flew across the strings. It took some time to adjust to playing a violin properly in this form, and he still had yet to even comprehend the physics that made it physically possible for a pony with one solid hoof to play multiple notes so effortlessly, but in the famous words of many a brony, and of Taze, he chose to make the wise decision and simply not question it. The orchestra had been playing a stirring rendition of the overture from La Bovem, a famous Minotaur opera commissioned to portray the tragic story of a great Minotaur warrior returning from battle to find a mate, and the actions that led to the ultimate murder of his seducer and his own dishonorable beheading. As the final movement died down, the conductor grinned at the orchestra, giving a stirring speech about the up-and-coming concert before dismissing the assembled Ponies to return to their homes.
“So how did we sound?” Vital Spark asked as he approached his violin case and removed his shoulder rest.
“We’re still lacking a bit near the second stanza,” Octavia noted, “but overall I think the piece is coming along rather well.”
“La Bovem is one of my favorite pieces. The way the orchestra plays together, not to mention the fun melodies we get to work with, just leaves me wanting to go back and play again.”
“Minotaurs may not be much for art and literature, but their music is always very stirring,” Octavia agreed.
“Say, Ocatvia? I’ve always wondered. What started you on your path to the cello and the orchestra anyways?” Vital asked as he lowered his violin into the hollow and secured the velcro ties over the top to hold it in place. Then he began to loosen his bow.
“My mother was an accomplished violinist,” she explained. “She always inspired me with how well she could control her instrument, and my father was a sergeant in the local barracks. He could wield a blade with amazing finesse. I suppose the cello spoke to me for the fact that it is like a violin, but large and heavy, requiring strength to play it properly. With this instrument I can strive to show I am strong, but also command the control my parents could with their arts.”
“And the music itself?”
“That's just a bonus,” she chuckled. “What about you?”
Vital Spark laughed. “Mine’s a little more cheesy. I didn’t have parents who were gifted with instruments. Well, my mother was okay with the piano. My father didn’t do much music wise. My mother did sing, though. I like to think I got my musical ear and good singing voice from her. Anyways, what happened is that one day, my mother was playing some music in our house. Not on the piano, but an actual soundtrack, like Vinyl uses from time to time. The piece playing featured a violin soloist, a real virtuoso. That music stopped me cold, and the moment I learned what it was, I knew I wanted to learn how to play it. Now, over fifteen years later, I’ve gotten pretty good. I’ll never be the best, and I certainly won’t make a career out of it, but I’ll always love playing for fun.”
“Then it’s already worth it,” Octavia told him. “The point is that you find joy in it.”
“Yeah. Thanks, Octavia.” Vital Spark smiled as he placed the bow where it belonged and shut the case.
“Please, Vital, call me Tavi,” Octavia said.
Vital Spark chuckled. “Tavi, huh? That’s going to take some getting used to.”
A heavy thumping resounded through Fluttershy’s cottage as Rarity slammed the door with her hooves. Inside the house, a certain white bunny’s ears twitched annoyingly as he stirred restlessly in his bed. The knocking continued.
“Fluttershy! Fluttershy! I have the most wonderful news!” Rarity called.
Angel Bunny’s eyes popped open, bloodshot and twitching. He burst out from his bed, tossing covers and pillow across the livingroom floor as he angrily, but cutely, hopped to the front door and glared at the offending sound. Whoever was on the other side of that door was about to face a living tartarus. He was about to jump up and pull the door open with murderous thoughts of much pouncing and biting when a blue magical aura surrounded the door in question and it flung open, taking the small lapine with it. The door slammed open with a resounding crash against the wall. Angel Bunny’s paw barely stuck out from the door, twitching in shock as Rarity charged in, heedless of the creature’s plight.
“Oh dear. Rarity, what’s the matter?” Fluttershy asked in shock as she walked worriedly down the cottage stairs. She grew even more so when she saw Rarity’s face. “Did I miss one of our spa appointments?”
“Fluttershy, dear, do you really think I’d come bursting into your home for something as simple as that? Well, I would come to check on you, of course, but I certainly wouldn’t have been so excited.” She grinned. “Notice anything different about me?”
“Well you do have a nice new horn ring,” Fluttershy meekly complimented as she pawed the ground nervously. “Where did you get it?”
“Fluttershy, I do appreciate you trying to be a little more open and sociable, but this is serious.” She let loose a squee of excitement, biting the edge of a trembling lower lip. Then, when she couldn’t seem to take any more, she threw her hooves wide and yelled at the top of her lungs. “Hammer Strike proposed!”
“Oh my!” Fluttershy replied, jumping a little at the loud yell. That was before the words actually ran from her ears to her brain. “Oh wow. Oh goodness.” She squeed at the news, smile and all. “That’s such wonderful news. I was worried it might not happen with how many trips Hammer Strike keeps taking.” She paused. “Have you two set up a date yet? Do you need my bird choir to help? Maybe I can have Angel Bunny help, too.” Angel finally managed to slide free of the door, his little cotton ball tail askew and his fur in shambles. “Oh isn’t this wonderful, Angel? Rarity is getting married!”
Angel Bunny huffed angrily, glared at Rarity, then promptly dove back onto his bed, snatching his covers and pulling them over again.
“Don’t mind him too much. He just had a late night last night, so he’s just a little cranky today,” Fluttershy apologized.
“Darling, I wouldn’t care if an oversized dragon came and stole my rarest gem. I’m going to marry Hammer Strike!”
With that, the pair proceeded to discuss wedding plans while Rarity began to draw up letters to invite the others to hear the news. Fluttershy happily called a few of her bird friends to deliver the mail. After about ten minutes of patiently waiting on the sill, Rarity handed each bird an envelope, and the birds winged out of sight.
“Are you sure about this? It’s just going to be me unable to hurt you, and you unable to hit me again,” Grif said as he stretched from his place on the other side of the sparring arena.
“Don’t worry. I have something a little different for this match. I picked it up during that seven year gap,” Hammer Strike replied with a grin. “I’m sure you’ll enjoy this match a little more than usual.”
“So how do you want to do this?” Grif asked as he readied his blades.
“First to three hits.”
“If it was anyone else, I’d point out that's insane. What's your angle?” Grif smirked. “Meh. I’ll probably find out in the next minute anyhow.”
The moment Demolition Granado called out the start, Hammer Strike vanished.
“What the–?” Grif started as he felt a presence behind him and turned around just in time for the flat of Hammer Strike’s blade to send him to the ground.
Grif coughed and spluttered, but was surprised to find no serious injuries from the blow. As his head cleared, he tried to think of what happened. “You did something,” he coughed. “A trade off of some kind, right?”
“Temporary empowerment. It won’t last forever.”
“Well,” Grif caught his breath and got to his feet. “You can run, but can you react?” He slid into bullet time as he moved behind Hammer Strike, driving the pommel of Vigilance into his side before striking his shoulder with Vengeance. “Didn’t think so.”
“At least I chose this over another. Otherwise it wouldn’t be a fair match at all.” Hammer Strike gave a smile.
“It still isn’t,” Grif jabbed as he charged again. This time Hammer Strike responded in kind, and blades clashed and clashed again at speeds so fast the observer only saw momentary flashes of sparks with no sound. After a while Grif noticed something else. Hammer Strike wasn’t exhaling, and he was pretty sure he knew why. Moving at such high speeds would normally make the air around you either too sparse from being unable to fill the void as you moved fast enough, or in some places leaving dense pockets of displaced air. This fact generally led to havoc being wrought on the lungs. Grif was protected by a mix of resistance born from the same natural magic that allowed Gryphons to stand on clouds, and aid given by his wind aspect. It seemed Hammer Strike was not receiving such protection from those methods, and while the Earth Pony could hold his breath for a long time, Grif could already see the signs of strain.
As their blades clashed, Hammer Strike landed a second glancing blow of Grif’s shoulder. The sharpened blade bit in slightly, but the wound was entirely too minor to garner Grif’s attention as he ducked low, and then swung upwards, grabbing Hammer Strike’s body. All momentum between the two stopped as, for the first time in Grif’s memory, he held Hammer Strike with Vigilance less than a hairsbreadth from his throat. “Yield?” Grif asked, panting slightly.
“Yeah, sounds good.” Hammer Strike took a few breaths.
“You did good, all things considered, but speed’s not really your thing. Unless you want to keep an oxygen mask on you at all times. And we really don’t need you going vader on us.” Grif stepped back, sheathing his swords.
Hammer Strike chuckled. “I thought you’d like the trick, but it isn’t limited to just my speed. It’s limited to me only being able to add one extra aspect at a time, and only temporarily.”
“I take it this is something I won’t read about for several chapters?”
“Far into the book, near the end. Only reason I messed with it is because of the object that I grabbed.”
“You get all the fun toys first.” Grif chuckled before wincing as he looked to his shoulder. “You got a good hit there.”
“Sorry. Light taps at that speed aren’t exactly light taps.”
“Hey, we use sharp blades for a reason,” Grif said. “Don’t worry about this. Winds know we’ve both had worse.”
“Yeah,” Hammer Strike replied. “Perhaps next time I could show you another aspect. Perhaps time,” he finished with a chuckle.
“Maybe.” Grif laughed. “Not like you have a lot of sparring partners who can take such punishment.”
“A shame really.”
“So then, big plans for the wedding?”
“Rarity has access to my bank account, and I told her to go wild.”
“Lets hope she is successful in her mission.” Grif chuckled. “Funny how that one worked out”
Hammer Strike hummed questioningly.
“You humored her back in the empire, remember? Look how that turned out.”
“Hard to remember, honestly. It’s been years for me since that day.”
“Which makes it one of the longest courtships I’ve ever heard of.” Grif chuckled. “What is it, one thousand forty seven years now?”
“Might as well have been.” Then Hammer Strike laughed.
Lily, Daisy, and Rose Valley were busy working on their greatest masterpiece to date, a flower-studded statue in dedication to the four princesses. Daisy was just finishing the last touches of lavender sprigs for Twilight’s wings while Rose and Lily worked to get Luna’s hooves just right.
“Can you believe that the princesses actually commissioned us to make the displays for the gala?” Rose asked excitedly for what had to be the tenth time at least, not that the others really cared. They were still giddy over the news, even as they worked.
“I know! I still can’t believe I managed not to faint after Princess Celestia and Princess Luna both walked into our shop!” Lily gushed as she passed another bucket of morning glories to help flesh out Luna’s eyes around the sapphires that had been mounted surrounding a black pearl.
Daisy laughed. “And all that money really saved us for this quarter. Not to mention all the publicity we’re going to get from now on. I mean, once you’re booked by royalty, the nobles go crazy for you.” She chuckled. “I’m just glad it’s not a tuesday. Could you imagine what would happen if the whole thing just fell apart?”
Just then a blue aura surrounded their door, flinging it open with such force as to cause many a vase to fall and shatter. The floor was suddenly littered with water and broken flower stems. If that weren’t bad enough, the sign that had been hanging on said door, which clearly read CLOSED, flew end over end until it sheared off the heads of both Princess Twilight and Princess Cadence. The sign then embedded itself into the wall, wobbling and striking the lower ends of the wooden shelf. An old oil lamp slowly wobbled its way off the shelf, jumping in time to the vibration before teetering over the edge and suddenly expiring in an exquisite show of color. The oil sparkled like rainbows in the light before seeping all over the display.
Shortly afterwards, one of the shelf’s supports failed, causing it to slant as a heavy magnifying glass dropped into a potted plant filled with fresh soil and seedlings. Unfortunately, the pot had been positioned before an open window to provide the sprouts the maximum exposure and nutrition. The sun’s rays concentrated on the glass, which in turn concentrated the light into a powerful beam aimed directly at the Celestia model’s hooves. Before even so much as a scream could be uttered, the damage was done. A tiny wisp of smoke arose. Then came the flames. Celestia was reduced to ash and charred metal in a matter of seconds. The other princesses soon followed.
Rarity laughed awkwardly as the three flower sisters glared at her. Her horn glowed as a large raincloud was pulled in through the open window and squeezed, putting the fire out. She then promptly shoved it back out of the shop for a pegasus to pick up before clearing her throat. “Don’t worry, girls, I can pay for that, I promise, and in bits. I was just so excited, why, I didn’t notice the sign. I’m so terribly sorry.” She hastily fired her horn and raised the magnifying glass out of the seedling pot, laying it on a table far in the back of the room where it could do no harm.
“Well, seeing as we aren't busy at the moment, thanks to somepony,” Rose said, unamused. “What can we do for you, Rarity?”
“I really am sorry. I know I’m the element of generosity and all, but I simply had to see you three. It’s urgent!” Rarity’s smile turned into a grin as she lowered her head to the three. “I just got engaged!”
“Rarity, we’ve had an updated plan for your wedding flowers on file SINCE SECOND GRADE!” Lily growled. “We’ll get them ready, but what's so important you need to interrupt–”
“I’m going to marry Hammer Strike!” Rarity blurted.
The three mares stopped dead in their tracks and gaped.
“I’m sorry, I think the flames must have messed with my hearing,” Daisy said. “You’re what now?”
Rarity took a moment to compose herself, doing a quick brush of her mane. “I said I’m going to marry Hammer Strike, darling. You know, the lord just a ways down the road?”
“Rarity, I’m not sure we can do a floral arrangement for a royal wedding just like that,” Lily stated.
“Oh, I’m not asking for a rush job. This is my wedding we’re talking about after all, but I simply had to have your expertise. Everypony knows your arrangements are the best in Ponyville. And I’ve been to Canterlot and back, darlings. Trust me; you three can do far better than any of those kiss-ups at the market place. Who do you think recommended you to the royal sisters in the first place?”
“I don’t know,” Rose said. “That’s a lot of flowers, and seeing as we’ll be spending most of our profit margin rebuilding that floral statue, I’m not sure we can afford the flowers we’ll need in time.”
“Oh, Darlings, you must not have heard me.” Rarity picked up a sack and opened it to reveal a mountain of bits. “I said I’m engaged to Hammer Strike.” She smirked. “That means I can pay you triple, and then some.”
The three mares’ eyes widened. Rarity was almost sure she saw bits instead of their pupils.
“Cha-ching!” All eyes turned to the cash register that had mysteriously fallen over.
“We’ll invoice you for the rest,” Rose said as she took the sack.
“Just send us a list of everything you want.” Lily nodded, suddenly very energetic and very happy.
“Oh, and send us a list of your bride’s mares as soon as you can,” Daisy added. “We’ll need to take coat coloration and dress fabrics into account.”
“I’ll have them to you by the end of the month. First you three need to take care of that commission for the galla, and I need to take care of my dress for the event.” She grinned. “I can’t wait to rub this in Blueblood’s face.” She finished by dropping a smaller purse by the cash register and righting it with a quick flick of her head as her magic took effect. “And those gems should cover the cost of the damages. I’ll see you girls later. And thanks again! Stop by my botique some time for your measurements. After all, I’ve got three of my bride’s mares waiting right here.”
With that said, Rarity quickly made her way out the store, shutting the door far more gently behind her as she skipped her way through town. The three flower sisters rushed to window to watch her go, then back to the register to account for the massive profit they’d just made, and finally to the platform to analyze the damage before their little pony hearts just couldn’t take the strain anymore, and they promptly passed out.
Grif smiled as he stitched the cut on his shoulder. He wasn’t really good at things like stitches, but he’d managed to keep himself from getting infected before, and the cut was shallow, so he was sure he could make do without troubling anybody. He never heard the footsteps entering the room as he worked.
“Grif?” The old voice was soft, and unusually gentle.
“Kalima?” Grif turned his head in surprise. “One day you're going to have to show me how you sneak up on people like that.”
Kalima held something in her talons, its chain glinting in the afternoon light. Her eyes seemed troubled.
“What is that?” Grif asked curiously.
“Something I never thought to lay eyes on again.” She unclasped her talons to reveal the shining gold taloned figurine embossed with silver. On closer inspection, it seemed to be clutching an emerald.
“Did you misplace it?” Grif asked. “Or was it lost in a battle?”
“It was lost to the ritual, Griff. You know which one I mean. I … I never thought I’d see it again. I found it … in Thalia’s room.” She practically cradled the piece of jewelry as tears misted her eyes.
“Should I get Thalia so you can ask her about it?” he asked.
Kalima nodded. “That might be for the best. I never got to finish telling you about my husband before. Perhaps now is the time.”
Grif nodded as he cut the stitches, he could start again later if need be. It would take more than this to bleed to death anyway. He left the room, returning fifteen minutes later with Thalia by his side.
“Mother, is everything alright? What’s this all about?” Then her eyes fell on the golden talon. “Where did you get that?”
“I was about to ask you the same question, daugter.”
Extended HolidayCh 89: Memories of the Heart Act 11
Thalia shrugged nonchalantly. “I got it when I was in that crazy garden I told you about, after I got the leaves for Zecora. It just fell off the tree. I didn’t think it was all that important, so I kept it.”
Kalima held the chain aloft as she stared into the precious stone. “This emblem belonged to your father, Thalia.”
“I think maybe, Thalia, it would be best if you told us the whole story,” Grif noted, trying to keep things from escalating.
The trio took their seats, and Thalia spent the next twenty minutes recounting her adventures in search of the tree of essence, and the events that transpired along the way. When the tale had finally finished, Kalima nodded her head in understanding.
“I see,” Kalima mused. “That would explain a great deal. Gryphons from many clans have been trying to get into that garden for countless generations. The magic that sleeps there is powerful, but it is also wild, not easily controlled. No Gryphon that ever managed to gain entry to that garden has ever returned to tell the tale.”
“Probably our stubborn pride.” Grif chuckled to himself. “Still, this is entirely unique, Kalima? There isn’t a chance it belonged to some other unfortunate one?”
“Look closely at the stone, Grif. Tell me what you see,” she said as she reverently handed it to him.
“... That’s a bloodstone,” Grif said after a few minutes of close scrutiny. “This … was from your wedding?”
Kalima nodded as she took it back. “How better to seal one’s vows than with the instrument of the Emperor’s blessing?”
“But how could it have gotten all the way to the garden?” Thalia asked, her eyes still a little wide at the sudden revelation.
“How should I know? Perhaps this tree you mentioned establishes a connection when the magic is invoked. From what I have heard from your brother, it can be a harrowing experience to confront that part of your nature with which you are conflicted. It is a magic that is not entirely of this world. It is of the spirit, but I believe it is also of the wild. When your father failed, he paid the price. Perhaps this was a part of that payment.”
“Then why give it to me?” Thalia asked.
“Because you succeeded where he could not, and cursed though he was, his spirit still flies upon the winds. You said you heard a voice. There is no doubt in my mind that it was your father.” Her voice choked up. “It was Charell.”
“Could you finish your story, Kalima?” Grif asked as he once again began to clean his wound and attempted to return to stitching it.
“It is a long one. Are you certain that you are ready to hear it?”
“I believe I am.” He nodded.
“Then pull up a chair, or else find a place to lie down. This will take a good while.” When the three had finally settled in properly, Kalima cleared her throat. “Now then, where were we?”
“You just were rescued by the escort and the healer.”
Kalima nodded. “Thank you, Grif”
To continue my narration, I was to march with the camp until we could reach a proper place for me to part ways. In the meantime, I promised to do my part to support the camp by guiding them through the area and assisting in their hunts for wild game. My help was not often looked kindly upon, but it was tolerated, for the men needed the food, and besides that, I was under the protection of their commanding officer. Had any sought to touch me, they would have suffered severe penalties. We continued like that for a few days until we arrived at a compound I recognized only too well.” Her gaze looked troubled as she gazed up into the wooden rafters of the tower, and her eyes were distant as she recalled the scene to her mind once more.
The gates were stern and imposing, with great stone Gryphons carved in full battle array on either side. A large lawn sprawled out within, choked with weeds and ill tended. An old cracked fountain spurted water from its side like blood from a wound. The sounds of revelry indicated only too well that a celebration had been planned. Either that or the owner had a penchant for fine food and drink. I turned, when the column parted, to see the hero emerge from the other soldiers’ ranks. He was garbed in full armor with thick chain mail beneath the plates to protect against most attacks. His great wings pressed against the great dark blue cloak, but did not stir from their place of concealment. The emperor’s seal had been sewn in red over the top. Two hand axes glinted in the light, having been expertly maintained. A series of daggers had been hidden in various key points for easy reach and use, in case of emergency or tight quarters. His face was obscured by a great helmet, specially forged with a unique visor that had been intricately engraved to give the appearance of warriors past. That mask never changed, and those who looked upon it only felt the fear and aggression that surely must have lain in wait behind it.”
“Why are we stopping here?” I asked.
The Gryphon looked at me, and his distorted voice echoed from his visor like a bell. “We need time to stop and let the men rest. Tired soldiers aren't going to do any good when the battle is joined,” he said.
“I am not well loved in this place, m’lord. It might be best were I to return to the tents, lest I enrage your host.’”
“Do not heap such honor on me,” he said. His voice was cold, frigid. I could not say whether it was his military upbringing, that I had caused some offense, or some other mystery that yet remained beyond my understanding. I only know that he insisted, so I decided to do as he asked. I would be very ungrateful indeed if I did not. “And stay with us,” he said. “You are protected by me, and any who raise a talon to you shall face me. Let me be your avenger.”
“‘My savior and protector you may well be, but my vengeance is my own. I will not let another take it from me so easily,’ I insisted hotly. The years had not been kind, and while I still did not approve of violence, an attempt on one’s life tends to change one’s views on morals.”
“‘Then let me aid you,” he said as his voice dropped to a gentler tone. “Let your enemies be mine.’”
“It was Father, wasn’t it?” Thalia asked.
“Hush, child. You’ll spoil the story if you rush too far ahead.” Kalima smiled a bit sadly. “And this is a tale which certainly ought not to be rushed.” She sighed, then looked to the stone once again. “I’ve seen what happens when a person rushes into something when they are not yet ready for it.” Steeling herself, she resumed her narrative.
“I will take vengeance in my own way and in my own time,” I said defiantly. “I do not need the help of the military for that.”
“I do not offer the military to aid you. Only myself,” he said, chuckling. “You have spirit. That is admirable.”
“You may not think so for long. I smirked at him then. “I have a tendency to upset other men.”
“Other men are behind the times, and arrogant. I believe in the avatar’s guidance towards females.”
“And the Emperor still gave you the honor? Astounding.”
“It was not his choice to make.” The warrior lifted his left wing and fully extended it. “It was the Winds’ choice that I should be a warrior, and it is a profession I do well. To ignore that would be sacrilege.” It was then that I noticed the small island of silver in the sea of golden feathers. I was moved to pity, and I will admit, my heart ached and burned at the sight. I remembered Charelle. I remembered what that gift did to him. I remembered what that gift cost. And so I gave him that which was his due. I bowed low to him as a sign of respect, though I gave him nothing more.
Then came the servants, along with a familiar wizened screech owl bobcat mix named Jacapo His feathers had been touched by grey from his years of service, but his smile was still the same as I remembered when Charelle and I had played within the old castle courtyards. He nodded cordially in my direction with just a hint of a smile cracking the facade of the indifferent butler. He always had been the most relaxed about my friendship with Charelle, even going so far as to spoil me with a few sweetmeats from time to time when I left the castle to return to my home. Then he turned to address my savior.
“Ah, master Charelle. It’s good to see you.” His smile broadened. “Your father has sent us to attend to your needs, and the needs of your warriors.” My beak practically dropped to the floor when I heard the name.”
“It’s good to see you, Jacapo.” Charelle embraced the older Gryphon’s arm up to the elbow, and he responded in kind before Charelle pulled off his helm to reveal the black and silver feathers of the crest I remembered from childhood. “Are my brothers here?” he asked in a jovial tone. Despite the kindly demeanor, I knew those eyes. I knew the look that passed between them was anything but happy.
“‘They are out hunting. Your father wishes for a banquet in your honor tonight. Should I see to your room?” Jacapo asked, even as he motioned for the other servants to fan out. “We’ve kept it ready for you in anticipation of your inevitable return.”
Charelle shook his head. “No, Jacapo. I think I shall tent outside during my stay. It is such a beautiful time of year. If you could do me a favor and see if Haydee would be willing to attend to my friend here?”
“Of course, sir.” Jacapo lowered his beak while the other servants made their inquiries about supplies and other necessities. He spoke briefly to one of the other servants before taking wing and making his way back towards the grounds.
Charelle walked back slowly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t plan to deceive you, but I thought if you knew who I was, you might not accept my help.” He looked almost ashamed, though to this day I still wonder just why that might have been. Was he afraid I would be disgusted at what he had become? Is it possible he feared what he himself might do if I saw him too soon alone? Perhaps it was his own self loathing. Only the Winds know the things he had to face during his time away, and to speculate further would lead to more confusion than it would revelation.
Needless to say, I was at a loss for words. Suddenly the man I had liked, mayhaps even grown to love in my early years, had returned to the land of his birth. Had returned to me. I believe I blushed then. Those visions I’d had in my recovery may have been more real than I had at first believed.
“Charelle …”
“Kalima.” He smiled. It was that same smile I remembered from so long ago, but his eyes were not the same. Behind the kindness, something stirred, barely contained. He had been hurt. I knew he would be when he left.
Seeing that pain, I did what was perhaps the most impulsive act I had ever committed. I lunged for him, embraced him, kissed him. I never wanted to let go. I wanted to take away everything that had been forced on us. I wanted it to be as it had always been, and for a while, for that magical moment, it was. It took time before I finally registered the wetness on my cheeks, the look on his face. Then fear seized me. Had I been too forward? We had only just met again. We were different people than we were before.
“You know, I thought you’d hate me when this moment came,” he whispered.
“You never asked for this,” I replied. “Why would I hate you?”
“Because I let this happen to you. I left you to this, and you deserved far more.” He held me tightly in his talons, and I felt more than a little breathless, even as the moment held.
“You deserved to be free. We were both made to face these fates.” I remember frowning then. My bitterness over what had happened had been carefully controlled over the years, but I knew I was safe to voice my opinion here. “If the battleborns truly are so special, then I wish they would let you choose your fate. It seems the respect comes only after the battle.”
“What if I told you there may be a way to choose our own fates?” His voice was so low, I almost didn’t catch what he was saying. “Would you be brave for me?”
I smirked, and my tail twitched in anticipation. It felt much like when we were children, constantly trying to outdo one another as we raced and flew among the clouds. “Is that a challenge I hear?”
“Do not ask until we are alone tonight,” he cautioned. “There are words to be said that should not reach the emperor's ear.”
My eyes widened. “Charelle, the emperor? Just what are you–?” I broke off. A quiet talon had been placed over her beak.
We separated, and he did not speak directly to me for the next few hours as camp was set up inside the clan's grounds and provisions were arranged and seen to. I was put in the care of a Gryphoness not more than a year older than I. She was a combination of a jay and an ocelot, and I had not seen her face in many a year. She’d always been so serious in our youth, and that grave expression more than anything else helped me to recognize her. It was good to renew our friendship again after all this time, and while she remained reserved and controlled, she did manage to allow a wisened smile to pass over her beak. I still remember her tease after we’d settled in.
“It’s about time you two got together.”
We laughed then, and it was almost like when we were children again, and Charelle was spying on us to try to figure out what pranks we were planning. It was only after the tents were pitched and we were supposed to be making preparations for the banquet that Charelle came to see me again.
“I hope everything is satisfactory?” His first words were said in the same cordial tone he had used before I’d found out who he was.
“More than satisfactory. I never realized your father had so much wealth. I suppose that’s why we usually played in the streets.” I smiled warmly. “I still remember that day we stole those apples from old man Farth.” Then I laughed.
Charelle gestured towards the tent door, and the curtain drew over Haydee’s face again. She nodded and left quickly and silently. Charelle produced a kite shield and a spear from outside the tent, and proceeded to impale the spear into the ground before blocking the entrance with the shield.
“Would you love me if I was nameless, Kalima?” he asked.
“Charelle, what are you saying?”
“Our lives will be decided as long as we are under the emperor’s will. I will be sent to front after front until I am no more. If I live another three years, my father will have some bride set aside for me to keep our family’s blood pure. It will be another four before I would be allowed to add you as a second bride, and I don’t want any more than you.” He looked into her face. “I don’t want to be forced to kill the enemies of an emperor who only desires my blood. Three days hence, a trade ship leaves from the coast for the northern isles, and on it, fifty skilled fighters deserting the emperor's wars. They have want of a commander, Kalima, and Equestrian mercenaries live comfortably, if not nomadically. It would be difficult at first, but we would be free.”
“Oh, Charelle!” I embraced him. “Yes. A thousand times yes.”
“Tonight a traveling monk from the cathedrial in Gryphilhiem will meet us here, and we shall make our bloodstone.” He kissed her. “And then tomorrow, your revenge and our escape.”
“If I’m with you, I don’t care about revenge.”
“No. The North Wind will see you avenged,” he said sternly, his eyes hardening. I swear I could almost see fire swirling in those eyes. “Now tonight you must not leave my side for the entire banquet,” he instructed. “I will not see my brothers be given another chance to hurt you. Finish getting ready. I will see you inside.” He kissed me gently on the head before removing the makeshift barricade. With a final glance, he slipped into the night air and was gone.
“And that is where I must stop for the day, children. This old bird needs her rest, and it has already grown late,” Kalima said.
“But mother!”
“You will learn all in time, Thalia. As I recall, the last time I tried telling you, you weren’t all that interested.” Kalima smirked. “You waited a few years. You can wait a night more.” She approached her daughter and tied the chain around her neck. “Wear this proudly, Thalia. I believe it is what your father would want, and it’s what I want, too. I at least have my memories. All you have are my stories, and now this. Keep it, and leave us a legacy we will be proud of.”
“Mother …”
Kalima yawned again. The small fire in the makeshift chimney of the tower had nearly gone out, and its embers filled the room with a dim red light.
Grif used the tip of his claw to cut the thread as he finished tying off the final stitch. “These memories can’t be easy for you. I appreciate you sharing them with me.” He lowered his beak with respect.
“You adopted me as your mother, Grif. Therefore, you have the right to hear of the father you never knew.” Kalima slowly rose from her place on the stones and stretched. “When would you like to continue, children?”
“Tomorrow evening if that’s alright. There’s going to be a lot of craziness very shortly, and I’d like to know the ending before it all starts.” Grif smiled.
“I think I can manage that. You should be there, too, Thalia. You don’t know just how close you came to a very dark part of your heritage. You’re old enough now to hear the bad and take it with the good.”
“Rest well, old one.” Grif lowered his beak one last time and stalked out the door. Shrial and Avalon would doubtless be expecting him.
“Come on, Mother. Let’s get you to bed.” Thalia took her mother’s arm dutifully as they, too, left the room and closed the door behind them. A passive eddy stirred the air, sifting the ashes to cover the remaining sparks, and then was silent before it drifted out the window and into the night.
Hammer Strike hummed to himself as he quietly sorted through several papers, collecting his thoughts as he caught up on what he’d been doing before he’d left. He frowned as he put everything off to the side of his desk. “Wow, I do not miss the paperwork.…” His ears twitched for a second. “Come in.”
Blast Shield entered the room by himself. “Sir, the head architect is here. Would you like to see him now or let him roam first?”
After a moment’s thought, Hammer Strike shrugged. “I’ll meet him now.”
Blast shield nodded, leaving the room.
A few minutes later the door opened again to reveal a grey Earth Pony with a light green mohawk and goatee. His dark green eyes looked around the room for a moment before settling on Hammer Strike. “Hello, Lord Hammer Strike. Nice to finally meet you.”
“And you as well. And please, just Hammer Strike.”
The Earth Pony sighed in relief. “That’s great to hear. Part of me was expecting I’d have to be formal every conversation I’d have with you.”
“I take it you deal with a lot of nobles?”
“More than I would like, but yeah.” After a moment he shook his head. “Sorry, getting ahead of myself. My name is After Thought.”
Hammer Strike nodded. “So, I trust you got the base idea of the layout?”
After Thought nodded. “Yeah, I got to review them on the trip here. You’re really planning on going all out, aren’t you?”
“Well, we are rebuilding an entire city.” Hammer Strike shrugged.
“Well, at least you have a foundation for it. Plenty of supplies, land, and the cash to do it,” After Thought commented, shrugging. “That, and you’re willing to actually spend it on rebuilding a city, rather than just building up your own noble house, possibly more than once.”
“That sounds like it happens a little too often.”
“Yeah, just a bit.” After Thought sighed.
Hammer Strike pulled out a few scrolls and held them out to After Thought. “I refined a few things since the last iteration of the layout. Other than that, I trust your judgement on any additional parts to the plan.” He gave a small grin. “If you have any major changes that you would like to bring up, I’m usually available at most hours, so don’t be afraid to stop by and ask. Tower Shield will guide you to the room you’ll be staying in for the duration of your stay.”
After Thought nodded. “All right. I’ll be sure to keep you updated on what’s happening and where,” He finished as he turned towards the door. “Oh, by the way, great selection in your staff,” he finished as he left the room.
Hammer Strike stared at the door for a moment before humming in thought. “Celestia did say she chose some of the best ones for the job, so ... alright.” He gave a faint shrug before looking to the paperwork on his desk. “Now do I continue paperwork or find something else to do?”
Pensword stood in a recently cleared section near the unofficially designated Thestral quarters. The same building where Kel’leam had said his last goodbyes rose into the skies, and shone a bright blue with emerald-green accents. He would have to speak to Hammer Strike about getting official documents verifying permission to build.
Still, for the moment he had other concerns to address. He stood at the drafting table with the other Demon Slayers as they looked over the paper plans for the historic site, then shifted their scrutiny to the architect that had drawn them up, a young officer from the Royal Guard. “So, would you care to explain what we are seeing?”
The young officer nodded, nervous at the cadre observing her. “Right. Of course, sir.” She moved a hoof at the outer edges of the plans. “These will be the outer walls to form a sort of gateway or fence. An enclosure if you will. They’ll reach at least three stories tall, and metal girders will be built on top to form the framework of a large dome. After that, we’ll cover the dome with glass so the enclosure can have the proper lighting. She cleared her throat. “As you can see, we’ll have images of the flags with a brief historical plaque describing the unit the flag came from, and with the history of the battle where you captured it. These will be mounted along the inner walls.” She shifted her stance to look at the Gryphons of the unit. “The grounds will be planted with a rich grass that’s weed resistant, and we’ll line the paths with thick paving stones in a grid pattern to allow easier access to the rest of the flags on display. The air space inside will be large enough for both Gryphon and Pegasus to fly, and we’ll include benches along the outer rim for visitors to sit on and rest.”
“It seems fairly straightforward,” Kahn mused with his Phrench accent. “But will it not require an … aesthetic appeal as well? Many good Ponies and Gryphons alike died in the name of those banners. Should there not be flowers, or some other form of offering? Perhaps a fountain of some kind?”
Pensword looked at the grounds. “The flowers will come from the from the seeds that patrons carry in their wings and fur.” He looked at the grounds. “As for a fountain, I suppose we could have one outside of the walls, but for a flying species like us, a fountain is not something you put in a memorial garden. The flowers will be collected and tended, but only flowers that come from travelers.”
“You do realize that will give you more weeds than it will flowers, and that is assuming that your visitors are not well groomed and showered, which most are,” Kahn pointed out.
“It is tradition, Kahn. As for weeds, it depends on what viewpoint you have. For example, the Dandelion is considered a weed in some human cultures. And yet here, we eat the plant, and the seeds represent rebirth. So a weed is many things, and so is a beautiful plant.” He looked at the drawings. “Change the grass. We’ll make it wildgrass from the passes of Mountainside Falls. Bring the wild flowers from the mountains of Fort Triumph.” He sighed and looked to Kahn. “Forgive me, Kahn. I am trying to be more ... tactful. My other troops tell me I seem to be lacking in that area.”
“You might want to work on making it at least seem you are taking our concerns into account then. Had you simply left it at tradition and memorial to your home for the reasoning, it would likely have flowed better,” Kahn noted. “You will improve with time.”
“Well yes, but I didn’t want to crush the dreams of the new generation,” Pensword answered, fluffing his wing feathers. “Officer Grass Whistle has promising plans. I was hoping to hear them before we made the change. A thousand years have passed. I need to hear the ideas of this generation. If I clung to the old ways all the time, we would suffer catastrophic disaster in first contact with a future enemy.”
“It might help if you told them a little of what you were hoping for before they began designing, sir,” Animal Control said.
“The commander did, but, well the commander did say that he wanted to see what a modern day memorial garden looked like.” Grass Whistle shifted some of the sheets and revealed a sketch that took Pensword’s breath away. It was exactly as he had described. “I anticipated your homesickness, along with the desire to keep an eye on the future. At some point, this memorial will not only be dedicated to the battles fought in the war, but a monument to the Demon, or Steel Wings if you prefer, and his efforts to protect Equestria. In time, I’d also like to include a segment focusing on today, and the efforts you and the Demon Slayers made to protect Gryphonia and foster peace between our nations. I already have a mock-up set up in my office if you’d like to take a look.”
“You have a mock up already?” Moon Biter gaped. “Isn’t that a little presumptuous.”
“Not really. I know how much this means, and with the walls mapped out, and the flags in their general location, I thought it best to try and get things started quickly.” Grass Whistle moved a wing to the new drawing. “Now another nod to the old ways is the incorporation of the design for the royal gardens from the past. Most memorials tend to have gardens for visitors to pass through as well, so I was thinking of something similar for this. Usually the opening is wide enough for four Earth Ponies to walk through side by side. We’ll design it with two entrances on either side so visitors won’t have to worry about so much traffic.
“For the front, I took inspiration from a small doodle I saw during a meeting with the commander in his office. That will be where we place flags of our nation and its allies, along with the future flags of our branches of the military. With these additions, the memorial is going to be a good deal larger than its original conception, at least three times.” She moved a wing along the drawing of the front entrance. “This slab will also house the town flags of all current townships, and these other walls will have the seals of the missing towns. Beneath the seals, an accounting of the population for each of the towns will be embedded in stone, segmenting between mares, stallions, and foals. A small boulder will be smoothed and rounded before the metal smiths embed a metal plate into it explaining about the loss of these towns in the raids before the Gryphons were caught in the act.” She looked to the others of the unit. “Your thoughts, cadre?”
Pensword was silent as he waited for others to speak.
“It appears functional, though you may want to include a few pieces for Gryphons as well, since this will become a part of our own history soon enough,” Kahn pointed out.
“Of course,” Grass Whistle responded. “Any notes I should take to incorporate?”
“Perhaps just leave a place open, so we can carve it ourselves? It would be difficult to explain the designs we would require.”
“What kind of open place? On the wall? A slab in the back?”
“A wall,” Kahn confirmed. “If that's not asking too much. I would hate to inconvenience such a pretty lady as yourself.”
“I can leave the back wall left section open for your carvings,” she replied, totally unaffected by his charms.
“Merci,” Hahn responded with an eloquent bow.
Pensword nodded his head. “Right. I’ll leave Kahn to help with this. I think I gave Hammer Strike enough time. I am going to see him now. Just, please do not get into a too big of a row over the details, okay?” WIth that spread his wings and flew towards Hammer Strike’s office.
Pensword entered Hammer Strike’s office without knocking. They’d been friends long enough not to stand on ceremony, despite what other nobles might say.
“Yes, Pensword?” Hammer Strike asked, not looking up from his paperwork.
“We have a problem on my end. You know the area that the Thestrals have settled in around New Unity? I cannot find the paperwork authorizing them to stay there, and we have built a religious longhouse on top of that. We are more than willing to move it to another location if that is necessary, and I am also willing to do what it takes to buy that land. I want to be in the right here. I know how much you are working on planning the city as a whole, and I fear this could, if not worked out now, become a major thorn later on.”
“I gave a warning early on that you may have to move the building. As for the land where you can have it, technically it’s yours,” Hammer Strike replied. “Construction won’t happen in that region though for some time, so you do not have to immediately pack up and move it.”
“Still, as tradition states, the sooner we move the better. When we have families born there, and bury our dead nearby, it will be harder to give it up. We built our first lodge for easy dismantling, so I suppose the real question is where can we settle permanently? Where can my people live?”
“I already marked the area for the building on the plans. You’re going to have to wait until After Thought has a team mark out the region with flags and lines, and whatever else they use,” Hammer Strike explained. “Once they have the measurements and mark the area out, you’ll know where you can build.”
“Understood. Just as long as we have the right to build ourselves. Tradition dictates we build our own homes. We are looking forward to not having to sleep in tents anymore.” Pensword smiled.
Hammer Strike gestured to a side table. “The map is on the side if you want the rough estimate of measurements and location.”
Pensword looked carefully over the map for a good five minutes before he smiled. “Well, judging by the rough estimates, I can see three families will need to shift their location, but aside from that it appears we are actually within the lands we first thought. We look forward to solidifying the plans.”
“Keep in mind, until the land is marked, it’s still up in the air,” Hammer Strike warned. “He already had to change a few points on the blueprints, and it’s still subject to further edits.”
“Understood, but we are not going to have to say, pick up and move to the other side of the city. We just have to move about a little. If nothing else, we can dig down and build up. And the land you have marked here is roughly the size of a small Earth Pony town.”
“And I plan on making this place massive.”
“I look forward to that.” He took a seat on a stool. “So, how goes your troops? I trust they won’t be going after small demises at the moment?” Pensword asked with a chuckle, trying an old thousand joke between nobles.
Hammer Strike stopped his writing. “You know … now that I think about it, I haven’t talked with them for a while. Blast and Tower have been relaying information to and from. Doesn’t help that rebuilding a city requires a metric ton of paperwork.”
Pensword paused and put a hoof to his forehead. “Well you need to stop that. You didn’t do that a thousand years ago, so start fixing that now.”
“I wasn’t leading the reconstruction of a city a thousand years ago,” Hammer Strike countered.
“Then hire a staff to take care of the mundane paperwork, like a normal noble.” He paused. “Nevermind. You never did anything normal. What am I saying?” He shook his head. “Well at least meet with some of them.”
“I’ve met all of them,” Hammer Strike replied. “I just haven’t seen them in … however long since the last visit. I can’t remember when it was, considering the seven year gap in my memory from not being here.”
“Then start again,” Pensword suggested. “Also, get a staff. With your time travel adventures, you need folks to know what is going on.”
“I tend to be more … quiet on that. Time travel is a pain. I don’t know who I’ve met, and who I will meet, so I try to ignore it in whatever sense of the present time.”
“That is what the staff is for, to help you get acclimated to the present timeline. At the very least, it will help to cut down on the mounds of paperwork.”
“Yeah….”
“Well, if you won’t listen to me, then at least talk to Princess Celestia or High Chieftess Luna for advice.” He chuckled. “So, should we meet your troops again?”
After a moment, he shrugged. “Sure. Why not?”
The Bladefeather compound stood tall and imposing near the edge of the Everfree Forest. The main building itself was a large squared building that had taken two square acres of land, and contained, amongst other things, a courtroom where a selected council of Gryphons would solve minor or major disputes within the clan; a large rounded war room that was currently devoid of furniture, though Grif had been adamant that the room be a perfect circle, and large enough to fit a large table comfortably. A great hall stood just past the entrance for feasts and ceremonies, and a smaller mess hall was next to it with an attached kitchen. The building was all made of local granite, with carvings depicting the Winds and great acts of Gryphons from the past. In Front of this building was a large garden, which, with help from some of the local Earth Ponies, had been grown in with many assorted flowers. In the center of this garden, exactly twenty feet from the main building’s entrance, stood a large obsidian block with a large white sheet covering the surface. Over the front walls of the compound, on either side and above this block, three banners waved boldly in the wind. Each bore a different heraldic crest from other clans.
Heraldic crests were much more intricate versions of clan symbols, and considered to embody the very essence of the clan itself. On the left side of the building hung a banner of white silk with the symbol of large blood-red feather and a tiny droplet at its tip carefully embroidered. Ribbons of gold swirled elegantly around it. Behind the feather, a large silver silhouette of a dagger encompassing the feather. This was the heraldic symbol of the bloodfeather clan.
On the right, opposing it in navy blue silk, lay a symbol that had been sewn in deep purple silk, the silhouette of a hawk with large splayed wings and talons reaching downwards. A globe lay beneath its talons, as if the world’s entire span was within the hawks grasp. This was the symbol of the Farflyer Clan.
Hanging above the door, on a banner pure of gold silk, a large black shield enveloped a golden compass with a crown placed upon it. This was the imperial crest.
Behind the main building was a steep cliff face with many Gryphon sized holes carved into it. These were the entrances to the many stone roosts amongst the cliff’s walls. To the west of the main building, many ground level houses also sat in wait for their occupants. Northwest and directly adjacent from the main building was the armory. North of that was the training field. The building for this compound was far from finished, but it was likely never to be, not truly. More would be added as the clan grew. For now the building needed a traditional dedication.
This is why Grif found himself in full dress armor looking down at the faces of his entire clan before him, and the sight made his blood run cold, even as it brought a smile to his beak. The original forty or so Gryphons who had joined with Kalima’s mercenaries had swelled to over two hundred in number. Word had spread amongst the mercenaries of Grif’s offer, and many had gladly taken on the name and banner of Bladefeather. There were warriors, yes, but all gryphons were trained for warfare. What had proved unexpected was how many flocked at the chance to be builders again, and stone carvers, and farmers, and every other profession they had done back home. It was positively staggering how many talented Gryphons had been forced into combat because they were not ‘gustave le grand,’ and thus not acceptable within most spotlight areas.
Grun noted the familiar beaks of the clan’s new head bakers, Pierre and Grindel. As their names might imply, this couple both came from completely different kingdoms and walks of life. Pierre was born into a low end family, and trained as a pikeman in the front lines, but he was also one of the best bakers Grif had ever encountered. His wife had been the daughter of a clan leader, and betrothed to another clan leader to form an alliance that would benefit her father greatly. They had met when Pierre's squad had been sent to kidnap Grindel. Being the lowest born, Pierre had been given the chore of protecting the prisoner, and the two found a mutual love of baking. A week later, when the squad had been expected to report to their lord, the other soldiers claimed they had woken up to find the prisoner and Pierre gone. The two had made it to a ship bound for Equestria and never looked back. In Grif’s opinion, they made the best pretzels he had ever had.
It chilled Grif’s blood to think that they, as well as so many others, were putting their lives in his hands, but it also brought him great joy to see so many banding together to build a better life.
He looked to Avalon and Shrial on his right side, and Thalia and Kalima on his left, smiling at each of them before he finally cleared his throat to call the gathering’s attention.
“My family! My friends! Months ago I came before you with a promise. No more would you be considered nameless and without honor before your brothers because you chose freedom! No more would you sell your blood and your swords simply to exist. I promised you stability and freedom to each choose your path. Have I lied to you? Have I cheated any of you? Who here before the Winds would call me into question? I promise no one will be harmed should he find fault with me.”
There was silence. Many looked at their brothers as Grif scanned the crowd. He saw many smiles, some confused frowns, but nothing threatening or challenging. No one said anything.
“Then on this day let us swear together. The old will guide the young. The strong will uphold the weak. Those who have much shall give to those who have little. And let us never turn aside when another of us is in need. Our hearts and wings beat as one!”
Grif was surprised at the enthusiasm as the crowd responded. “They are as one!”
“Then, my family, in the name of the Winds that uplifted our race from our darkness, I dedicate this compound, its lands, its houses, its armory and training ground. All these things I dedicate to you, and to all the great Gryphons who walked before you.”
He nodded to Cheshire, who pulled the rope attached to the sheet covering the block. It slid away with some effort, revealing a familiar shield. The edges had been reforged in blackened bronze, and its front had been painted a deep jade green. Two silver swords shaped like feathers crossed over the green, and behind them, the silhouettes of the four wind embodiments lay, each in it’s own direction. From right to left across the bottom of the shield in ancient Gryphic, the shield read, “In war, victory. In peace, vigilance. In death, sacrifice.”
“Brothers! Sisters! I give you Compound Bladefeather!” Grif said before he threw his head back and shrieked like a hawk. This action was followed by the crowd. Some flew in the air, flapping their wings as if to increase the power of their cries. The winds eddied through the air, carrying the sound far and wide across the land. At last, they had a home.
Kalima sat happily in her quarters as she worked to finish tidying the new room. She easily rearranged the bedding, and shifted the new blood-red curtains to conceal the bed, then methodically began to smack them with her tail, releasing any dust that had remained on them into the air. A gentle knock sounded at her door, and she turned. “Come in, child. Come in.” She laughed. “And to think less than a century ago, I thought I’d never say those words.”
“I hope everything is to your liking. The old bird always complained about clan leaders building themselves big grandiose mansions away from their clans, and thus distancing themselves, but if you’d like a bigger house, I can make sure you get one.”
“This is fine, Grif. Just because I’m an old one doesn’t mean I should live aloof from the rest of the clan. Besides, I’d miss too much if I left now, wouldn’t I? And you and Thalia still need to hear the rest of the story.”
“Good. Do you need more pillows? Would you prefer a cloud bed? I can get you one, you know.”
Kalima laughed all the more. “You remind me so much of Charelle, Grif. He was the same exact way after we left the empire.”
“I guess I’m just a little nervous. I just essentially took responsibility for the lives of over two hundred of our kind, and that number is likely to grow with the natural progression of things. It’s a bit to take in, you know.”
“You’re a natural leader. If you weren’t a little uncertain, then I would be worried.”
“So I guess we have to wait for Thalia. Oh, that reminds me. The Ponies have their Grand Galloping Gala coming up. I have to make an appearence, but I thought it would only be fair to see if you’d like to attend?”
“Would it upset those pesky ones you don’t like so much?”
“Probably.” Grif smirked. “Between the two of us, we do represent an affront to a thousand years of tradition,” he said sternly with a false high society face. “We’re utterly disgraceful, my dear.”
“Then let’s turn some heads.” She chuckled at Grif’s antics.
“I’ll ask Rarity to come by later this week and see if she can work on something for you and Thalia then.”
“No frills,” Kalima said in a dark tone.
“Don’t worry. Between me, Pensword, and Hammer Strike, Rarity has begun to learn to deal with simpler tastes in clothing.”
“What were you saying about clothing, Grif?” Thalia asked as she entered the room.
“I was just assuring Mother that Rarity won’t get overly frilly on her dress for the gala.” Grif shrugged.
“I’m not much one for dancing anyways.” Thalia shrugged. “So, are we going to get back into that story?”
“Why, Thalia, you’re actually excited for a bedtime story? How extraordinary,” Kalima teased.
“Mother,” Thalia exclaimed.
“There is nothing wrong with being excited for a story,” Grif told Thalia. “We teach our children with stories. We tell our pasts with stories. Never be embarrassed of stories. One day that's what will keep you and me alive.” From his pack, Grif produced a small canteen and filled a goblet on Kalima’s bedside table. “Just a little grakala in case you get thirsty.”
“Thank you, Grif. One does tend to get a little dry when one does all the talking.” She chuckled. “So, are you two ready to begin?”
Both eagerly nodded.
“Then let us resume. The day had drawn to evening, and with the help of Charelle’s maid, I was able to make myself presentable for the feast.”
“Is that fitting okay?” Haydee asked as she assisted me with my gown for the banquet. “Not too tight?”
“It’s fine, Haydee. You don’t need to spoil me. We’ve known each other since we were fledgelings.”
“You’ve known only what I was allowed to show you,” Haydee said as she went to one of the bags she had brought with her and retrieved a pendent. It was brass, but well polished, with a thick rounded opal that held an emerald mounted in its center. “You know my family wasn’t born into the clan or a serving clan. Did you ever question just where this random serving maid came from?” she asked as she approached me.
“Why should I?” I replied. “We were friends. That’s all that mattered to me, all that matters now.”
“Then in that friendship, please remember everything I tell you now, for my master has charged me with your life, and I will defend it with all my arts.” Her left wing fluttered, causing her feathers to ruffle, and for the first time Kalima noticed hidden amongst her dull coloured wing feathers was a small row of black tipped feathers. “This pendent was passed down to me from my mother. It was given to her by the leader of her sect when she proved her rite of merit.”
Haydee took my claws and placed them upon the pendant’s surface, guiding them across the emerald, and forcing me to press upon it until it shifted with a click. A blade emerged from a cleverly concealed slit.
“Be wary. This blade is covered by very deadly poison. If you pricked your talon on it, you would be dead before you took three breaths. Should your enemies attack you tonight, this pendent shall be your salvation and their doom.” She allowed me to lift my talon, and the emerald slid back into place, as did the blade.
“Haydee, how long–?”
“Not when we met, but soon afterwards. The black fan are few now, and our way of life is quickly dying, but the master’s mother took me and my mother from poverty. She gave us work in her house, and we protected her and her son from her rivals and their children faithfully. When she died, I revealed myself to my master, and today he has charged me with your life.”
“The black fan? Mother, you were friends with a member of the black fan?” Thalia balked.
“Yes, Thalia, I was. She and her kind practiced honor in their dealings. They were not mere assassins for hire, like the Black Tips were. If the request was unjust, they would not accept. Now let me continue. There’s more yet to come.” Kalima took a few sips from the fruity beverage, then turned to continue her story.
“You mean Charelle and his mother,” I said.
Haydee nodded. “She was scared that his brothers would attempt to take his life. So few clans see all the males surviving to maturity that she decided the master should have a shadow.” She bowed her beak “It hurt me to deceive you. I hope this will never change things.”
“You used your craft to protect, not to murder. In my eyes, you are the same as ever.” Kalima embraced Haydee. “I’ll miss you.”
“I will miss you, too, but we are not done yet. I have other ways to arm you, and we only have a short time. Tell me, how do you feel about tail rings?”
Over the next half hour Haydee proceeded to equip me with a small armory of deadly baubles. My tail tuft now camouflaged a treated manticore stinger connected to a small gold ring. Each claw had been painted in colors that seemed to compliment my fur and feathers, but also contained a paralytic that would activate once it hit the bloodstream. By the time I left that tent to head for the compound, I was ready to fight a small war.
The two of us made our way to the compound entrance, where Charelle waited in full armor.
“I see Haydee has treated you well,” he said in a pleased tone. Looking to her, he offered a large stack of paper beaks and a small silver dagger. “Haydee, you have served my mother and myself well, and without question. What you have done for me tonight, I can never repay. Tonight I release you from any debt you believe you owe my mother. Take these gifts, and let us part as friends.”
It was with shaky talons and tearful eyes that Haydee took the offered items. “Live well, Charelle,” she said, giving him a hug. Then she embraced me and repeated her wish. “Live well, Kalima.”
“Fly with honor,” I whispered back. My voice cracked, and I held her for a good while before finally making my way to Charelle’s side. With no more words to give, Haydee slipped silently into the dark while Kalima and Charelle entered the compound.
“When we reach the dining hall, I want you to identify the ones who attacked you,” Charelle said. “Use your napkin to cover your talons as you indicate, okay?”
“I didn’t get to see all of them, Charelle, but I’ll point out who I can.” I remember he shifted his gaze to look up at the castle and his face was cast in shadow. If only I’d caught the sign. “Did you father invite the village as well?” I asked.
“Of course the old buzzard would,” Charelle said. “He never misses a chance to show off.”
“Then I should be able to find the ones responsible. You probably just need to look for the ones who are astonished when they see me. It’s not like they expected me to survive.”
“Then they never really knew you.” Charelle chuckled. “It would take more than what they did to send you to the Winds.”
“If it weren’t for your company, they would have.”
“Have more faith in yourself, mon amour. You are much stronger than you seem to believe,” Charelle whispered as he caressed her feathers.
I shuddered in pleasure. “Winds, you have no idea how long I’ve waited to hear you say that.”
“Remember, no matter where I go, no matter who I speak to, always be at my side tonight,” he warned, just before we entered the great hall.
There was a rousing fanfare as four armed Gryphons drew their ceremonial sabers in salute to the returning hero. The great hall was spacious and well kept, with intricately carved pillars and tables designed to reflect the four Winds and their offspring. Each Gryphon wore their best. The elders wore their old armor. The youths kept their training weapons. The adults varied in the garb they wore, some simple and homespun, others more refined. All held their gaze on the couple as Charelle’s father rose to his feet.
“My dear son. Welcome home.” He rose to his hind paws and extended his arms. “And welcome to you all, who have so graciously accepted to attend what is perhaps the greatest honor our community has yet been able to receive, for my son does not return from battle empty handed. He returns bearing the golden talon, the highest honor a soldier may bear in service to the empire. Charelle, you have faced pain and affliction. You have faced loss the likes of which only true warriors may know. You have earned your rest, and proven the loyalty and strength of our family in the heat of combat. You are a true hero, and tonight, my son, you receive the recognition you deserve.” He raised his goblet. “To Charelle Grimsight!”
Charelle waited patiently for everyone to drink, and then spoke his turn. “Unfortunately, Father, my visit is to be short lived, I am afraid. I am only able to stay long enough for my men to rest, and then we have further orders to carry out in the west.”
“I received no word of such orders,” Charelle’s father frowned, his brow furrowing.
“With all due respect, Father, it is not of your concern where the emperor chooses to send his armies,” Charelle said. I swore I could see him smile faintly, even as he held up a scroll. “I have been commissioned to lead my men to the western coast, where a crew of cowardly deserters make to escape justice and seek the protection of Celestia across the sea.”
A murmur of approval swept through the chambers. Charelle’s father cleared his throat. “Well, it would seem that honor calls you away from our halls yet again, then. But it is my sincerest hope that you will at least enjoy this night. It is not often that the whole family is together under one roof, and I see you have a lovely guest at your side. Would you care to introduce her?”
“Why, Father, do you not recognise Kalima? She has been my friend since we were cubs,” Charelle announced, acting genuinely shocked. “Did you have some reason to not expect her?”
“Not at all, my dear boy, though word had passed around the village that she’d gone missing a few days ago. We sent a search party for her, but nobody could find a trace. Tell me, my girl, is everything alright?”
“Perfectly fine, Sir Grimsight. I was merely out for a hunt, and the game sadly escaped me. I had to pursue it.” She grinned. “Wasn’t it such a marvelous coincidence that I ran into your son and his party, even as I gave chase?”
Some of the Gryphons in the crowd looked nervously at one another, even as I met their gaze.
“A marvelous coincidence indeed,” Sir Grimsight said with raised brows. “And did you manage to catch your prey?”
“I’m afraid not. It proved rather flighty, but I know where its den is now. It won’t escape me next time.”
This time more than a few choked on their wine.
“How spirited. You’ve changed since you were a cub, my dear. Come. I’m sure that everyone is most anxious for more wine and a hearty meal. Sit, eat, drink. The comforts of my house are always open to family and close friends.”
Charelle took a spot at the head of the table adjacent to his father's own, placing me on his left. “Did you recognize anyone? I saw some startled looks, but I cannot be sure,” he whispered as he poured me some wine.
“It may just be the fact that you remembered me after all this time. After all, you were sent away to keep things from going further between us as I recall.” I smiled gently then, and kissed him on the cheek. As I pulled away, I let loose the smallest of whispers. “Ten down on your left.”
Charelle nodded and smiled to keep up the act, though I’m sure my kiss certainly helped. “Yes. And that’s why I had to be sure he was not part of this,” Charelle said as he pulled some food towards them.
“You do realize if you go through with this, he’ll never forgive you.” She casually pointed to a young smug gryphon with a pelican beak sulking at the end of the main table.
“The second my mother died, he began looking for ways to be rid of his dangerous son. It wasn’t until my name brought him honor that he started caring about me. There is no love lost between us,” Charelle said.
“I think there might,” I said sadly, “but I’ll do my best to help with that.”
Over the rest of the dinner, more than three quarters of the males our age had been pointed out. It had been quite the attack indeed, and Charelle didn’t know whether to be enraged at the cowardice these warriors had shown, or proud at how well I must have defended myself before they had their way with me. He settled on both.
Sir Grimsight rose and tapped his glass for attention. “And now for my son to address us. Long and many have been his exploits, and I am certain more than a few of you are anxious to hear from his own mouth of the events.” A polite applause filled the chamber as Charelle arose. He stared pensively into his goblet for a time, like an oracle to her basin. Then he took in the crowd and began to speak.
“My friends, my family, many of you have seen me grow up when I was just a self-centered, brash fledgling running around the grounds. You taught me, you protected me, and many of you mourned beside me when I lost my dear mother, may her loving heart carry her far in the warmth of the South Wind. It has been my honor these last few years to defend you against the enemies of our great empire, though it pained me greatly to leave you. So I raise this glass to all of you. May you all enjoy tonight as though it would be your last!”
The applause and cheers that rose were filled with exuberance and excitement, and more than a few of the fledgelings looked on anxiously as their wings twitched and they shifted on their haunches. It was rather clear they wanted to meet the great warrior face to face, rather than simply hear him and eat, but manners and honor required they remain at their table until the dancing began.
“Should you mention the proposal, love, or are we going to keep that our little secret?” I asked as the main course was brought out by the servants.
“The less they know the better,” Charelle whispered back.
“So dinner, a date, marriage, then leaving town behind for honor and an honest life.” She smiled and kissed him again. “I’m just glad you’re still yourself.”
“Well, I could have skipped the dinner and the date altogether, but that was out of my talons.” He chuckled.
“Well how about you show me some of your tactical prowess out on the dance floor, hmm?” I asked, then hit him with my most mischievous smile.
“Lead the way, mon cherie,” he said.
“As you say.” I rose, curtsied, and offered my arm with a cheeky grin. Charelle took that arm, and the two of us together walked to the center of the room, clearing our throats and motioning to the musicians.
On our cue the casual air of a waltz began to drift across the room. We rose to our hind legs and bowed to one another, then clasped talons and began to twirl across the dance floor. We hovered across the floor more than once as we danced, and my heart was pounding not with battle, but with another sensation altogether. In due course, Still we danced on, our whole world in the other’s eyes. I sighed and laid my head on Charelle’s shoulder.
“I never want this night to end,” I said.
“I do. Because for once, after all these years, I’ll have you in my arms.”
“You already did. You always have.”
“Yes, but for the first time our lives will really begin. Together, no clan, no class, no emperor. Just you and me.”
“I guess I can afford to let the night end then. After all, I’m sure I have so very much to look forward to.” I smiled at him as we settled back down to earth. An uproar of applause, cheers, and bird whistles showed just how successful and popular we had become.
About an hour later Charelle cleared his throat as he stood. “And now, Father, my friends, it is unfortunate, but I must leave you for the night. I have much to take care of in the morning. Please do not stop your celebration on my account. Enjoy yourselves,” he said, bowing graciously.
“Of course, of course. You must be tired from the rigors of your travels. I will make sure your men are well stocked on supplies and a hearty breakfast before you march. Will the lady also be retiring with you? We’ve had quarters prepared if she would prefer to sleep in the compound.”
I already had my story ready. “My thanks, Sir Grimsight, but I must decline. I haven’t seen your son in far too long, and I only have this one night to get reacquainted before he leaves again. I believe I will rejoin his camp.” It took another ten minutes or so, but we finally managed to get out of the compound and back towards the camp.
“Well that went as well as can be expected,” Charelle said as we made our way across the grounds. “With some luck, they’ll keep gorging themselves long into the night.”
“I’m guessing you’re not going to trust luck, though, are you?” I asked, letting the cool night breeze ruffle my feathers. It helped to clear my head.
“My men have been instructed to rest early tonight and eat well. They will be up early tomorrow,” he said.
“And we’ll be up all night,” I purred.
“If you can’t keep up tomorrow, let me know, and I’ll carry you,” he teased as we entered the tent.
“How about you carry me after we’ve gotten married? Where is that priest, anyways?”
An Extended Holiday Ch 90: Going to the Gala Act 12
Hammer Strike pulled an ingot of hot metal out of the forge and moved it over to his anvil. “Celestia, you know my feelings on the Gala,” he commented as he moved his hoof over a few hammers before finally selecting one.
Celestia stood in the forge without her regalia as she used her horn to heat the coals. “Yes, I know, but I really need you there to keep the nobles off stance. If they go in without a few wild cards, I worry they’ll stonewall my sister’s bill, and then we’ll face a severe split between the solar and lunar houses. We can’t afford to have a civil war on our hooves, Hammer Strike, even if it would only be in spirit, if not in body.” She smirked as Hammer Strike beat at the metal, watching the sparks fly. “Besides, I know you love knocking them down a peg or two.” She casually stepped aside as Hammer Strike returned to shove the metal back into the rejuvenated flames.
“I enjoy knocking them down a peg, but at the same time, I’d enjoy avoiding them in the first place. I most likely can’t even bring my gear like I used to as well, especially since everyone nowadays seem to enjoy cloak and dagger methods…”
“I already conceded to let Luna be in charge of the rules for the Thestrals, and knowing her, she’s going to let them walk in armed, or at the very least wearing ceremonial weapons.” She frowned as she recalled that fateful day over a thousand years ago. “I still remember what a weapon is to one of my Sister’s Thestrals, their beating hearts.”
“It’s going to be mayhem this year, now that I think about it,” Hammer Strike hummed. “Armed individuals left and right, new noble houses…”
“As well as my sister’s first time appearing at the Gala. Think about it, Hammer Strike. This could very well be the most entertaining Gala you’ve ever visited. And besides that,” she said, tensing as she prepared her trump card. “I can sweeten the deal. Once you vanished last time, I had to hold onto a little project you kept improving each Gala till I had to cancel it during the War.” Her grin was just as disturbing as Hammer Strike’s. He’d taught her well.
Hammer Strike broke off his work to look her directly in the face. “Are you talking about…?”
“Yep.”
Hammer Strike groaned. “Why do you know what buttons to push?”
“I learned from the best,” she replied warmly.
“Not to find mine!”
“You and I both know we want to see Baron Blueblood’s reaction.” She reached into the flames unprotected and withdrew the cherry metal before seizing it in her magic and twisting it into a pretzel. “This time I made sure he couldn’t get out of it. I hope you can show him certain respect.”
“I honestly don’t care which one shows up, I’ll still torment either one.”
“Trust me when I say the Baron is the one pulling the strings. Let the prince take over, and all he’ll want to do is spend weeks in his sky yacht.” She snorted as flames rose high from the forge. “I will not let an ember burst into something else.”
“I make no promises.”
“I expect nothing more from you.” With that, they continued their work. Nothing more needed to be said.
Pensword snuggled next to Lunar Fang as they enjoyed the evening with each other. They had slept the day and were just now waking up. Moon River was stalking along one of the ledges they had installed in the large room, bringing a smile to Pensword, even as Matthew made a comment on how his mother would throw a fit at the unsafe conditions.
“It’s so funny,” Lunar Fang said. “As far as time goes, we met less than a year ago.” She wrapped a wing around Pensword.
“You are very right, and yet… how long did we know each other in the past?” he asked. “I … well, if your parents–a human phrase comes to my mind, robbing the cradle. I am decades older than you are in technicality, and yet, both of us happen to be some of the oldest living Ponies outside of Hammer Strike and the two Princesses.” He shook his head. “I still remember you telling me how you always wanted a wedding based on Lunar Fang’s wedding. Funny how you got your wish, wouldn’t you say?” He chuckled.
“Do you regret anything?” she asked him.
“In what way?” He returned, kissing her gently. A smirk crossed his muzzle. “Do you regret anything?”
“Only that it took so long,” she told him. Her kiss was a bit more direct, and lasted a while longer.
“Took what so long? We barely knew each other, and I was a human to start with. Things didn’t even start clicking till after I got this body.”
“And it took me five years to find you again,” she reminded him. “That's a long time.”
“Right. That is true, but you do realize you could have gotten Hammer Strike to give you orders to be the spy to see how cadets are doing to hire into his Army, right?” He smiled, even as she smacked him with her wing. Giving him a glare he knew only too well, and he loved it. “As for regrets, my only regret is that none of my family has gotten to meet you in the flesh. Mom and Dad were there watching out for you after they were killed, and … well, the Human parents … I do not know if they think Matthew is dead or not.” He shook his head. “I just hope they don’t have a heart attack when they see us.” He didn’t get to say anything else as Lunar Fang kissed him on the muzzle for the contraction, as was her tradition.
“So have you got your notes prepared for the gala?” she asked him.
“On my second draft. It is a little hard, but I think I am going to wing parts of it. Speeches have a tendency to change on the go based on on actions, reactions, and anything else that might happens at the event.” He tried to move only to find Fox Feather settling in on his other side while Fizzpot took Moon River out of the room. “Also, when are we going to hold the ceremony for Fox Feather?”
“Perhaps we should go away for the weekend and have something private? Things seem to be really hectic recently,” Lunar Fang noted.
“True, but I do not want to exclude the Gryphon Slayers. They are too important not to have present at the wedding.” He smiled and kissed both of them. Matthew was still weirded out that he had two mares, while Pensword was proud to have a means to continue his bloodline through two great warriors.
“You mentioned running through your draft. I think we’d both like to hear it,” Fox Feather replied with a nuzzle.
Pensword blushed. “Right.” He cleared his throat. “Mares and Stallions of the courts of Equestria, I stand before you this evening, having let you all scheme, plot, and create the factions you wish, and quite frankly, I am sick of it. I stand for one purpose here, to give my full weight as High Duke of Ys to Princess Luna’s bill. I do hereby pledge my wealth, sacred honor, and even my life to this bill. A thousand years of peace has been granted, but, there are those that are starting to question if Princess Celestia is as powerful as history claims.” He took a moment to pause for effect. “History underestimates her power.” He laughed as he looked at the two mares. “That is as far as I have gotten.”
“You’re prepared for the nobles attempting to make their own armies?” Lunar Fang asked.
“Yes. Why do you think I am working with Hammer Strike and High Chieftess Luna first? It is going to be my military. The bill will clearly state that the High Duke of Ys cannot have an army for his own, as he is to lead the Armies of Equestria. There will be laws that demand levies of the Nobles for any national threat, and finally, and the credit here goes to Matthew and the other Humans, the nobles’ armies cannot attack each other. They are to be response units for national disasters or invasions into our own lands, essentially what Matthew calls a National Guard network.” He slowly began to chuckle. “However, I am not going to reveal this all at once. I want to see what those nobles try doing to wrest control from the Mistress of War,” he said. All three of them knew only too well which princess he meant.
“This all brings up another issue,” Lunar Fang pointed out. “We need a foalsitter.”
“Really?” Pensword asked, surprised. “I was hoping she could annoy folks like Blueblood with her crossbow,” he teased. “Also, isn’t Fizzpot her foalsitter at the moment? As I recall, Cadence is going to be there as a special envoy, so she can’t sit.”
“I think he deserves at least one night off,” Lunar Fang noted. “He’s done so well, and has been surprisingly well behaved.”
“We’ll ask him what he wants. Still, who do we ask then if that’s the case?” He paused before laughing. “The Blade Feathers might enjoy watching the goddaughter of the their clan leader. I doubt the Demon Slayers would be willing to miss the gala, but the rest already adore her, and she’s begun to get along with the cubs.”
“Will you ask Grif tomorrow?” she looked at him. “I have a few things to take care of in Ponyville.”
“Of course. Wait that means we are going to have a late day tomorrow. Are you sure you can handle that? We just got our sleep schedules back to normal.”
Fox Feather made a startled cough.
“I’ll be fine,” Lunar Fang assured him. “I’ll leave early, so I shouldn’t be out past noon.”
“Sounds good.” He yawned as he looked at the two mares. “Should we, well, get going for our night? Fox Feather, you need some sleep,” he noted critically. “The Unit isn’t giving any problems yet, are they? Also, hopefully we can start on our barracks complex after Hammer Strike’s wedding.”
“Nothing to report,” Fox Feather said with a yawn. “The integration is going well; however, the two cross-species, they might be coming for you to do their wedding.”
Pensword paused. “And you are worried I would deny it due to them being….” He gave a soft chuckle. “Those Gryphons proved themselves. If they come to ask, I shall perform the ceremony.” He smiled. “Now, let us see how the compound is tonight.”
Grif waited patiently in his office. He had requested a private meeting with Big Guns for a plan that had been brewing in the back of his mind for a while now. Fortunately, the warrior in question still kept his promptness from his Pony days, though he had begun to drink more often, and engaged in a few other more bovine behaviors as he adjusted to his new nature.
“You wanted to see me, Grif?” Big Guns asked.
“Close the door behind you and have a seat, Big Guns,” Grif ordered.
“If this is about the bonfire in the Everfree, I can explain,” the Minotaur said agitatedly as a brief spurt of his older personality and self manifested.
“I could care less about that, Big Guns. And please, you’re not in trouble. I just need to be cautious.” Grif gestured to the chair in front of his desk.
“You sure that can support Big Guns?” the Minotaur asked dubiously as he looked it over.
“Believe me,” Grif smiled as he looked at the chair, “it’s stronger than it looks.”
Big Guns shrugged and sat down heavily after removing his giant Battle Hammer from his back. “So what you need Big Guns for then, Grif?” He had learned long ago to control his tendency to call other creatures puny, though he had managed to defeat a gryphon or two before Grif and Thalia reined him in.
“Well, to be honest, nothing,” Grif said before he passed over what seemed to be official-looking documents. “Who I need right now is Sir Reginald, Duke of Chapton.”
“Then why send for me?” He snorted. “You need me to deliver these to him or something?”
“No, Big Guns. When you arrive at the gala, until you are told otherwise by me, you are going to be Sir Reginald. These documents are your patents of nobility from the Stampede Grounds, your battle honor records, and your license as a diplomatic representative. You will be assuming this identity for a very special task.”
“You want Big Guns to lie? What if the other Minotaurs find out?”
“Do you know how many Minotaurs from the Stampede Grounds have visited the gala, Big Guns?” Grif asked as he leaned on his desk, tenting his talons in a steeple.
“No, Big Guns can’t say he does.”
“Fewer than five,” Grif noted. “Despite being technically at peace, the culture that you have been thrust into is somewhat of a darkzone to Equestrian high society. The Guard will see no extra reason to trust you, but they will have no extra reason to watch you either, and that serves our purposes very well.”
“Which are?”
Grif slid a simple hinged wooden box over to the Minotaur. “During the gala, you will meet with several important nobles, as well as trade barons, media moguls, people vital to make this country work smoothly. Using what is in there, you will commit potentially the greatest tragedy in Equestrian history.”
“You want Big Guns to commit treason?” The Minotaur growled, grabbing his war axe from its holster at his belt.
“Open the box, Big Guns,” Grif said.
The Minotaur snorted angrily. “Yes or no, Grif.”
“I am asking you to help me prove the necessity for a united military in this country. Look in the box, Big Guns.”
Big Guns snorted in annoyance, but relented, though he kept his body tense just in case. opening the box, he pulled out what looked for all the world like a pen with intricate carvings. He sniffed it experimentally. “Charcoal?”
“Hypothetically, let's say this stick of charcoal is a syringe loaded with a very deadly neurotoxin that is time delayed. A small pin prick and just a tiny drop of this substance, and the person injected will be dead within six hours. You will be in the least suspicion, so you will be our hypothetical assassin. Fear is a powerful unifier, Big Guns, but it needn’t always be applied bluntly. Now, as a friend, will you help me?”
“What do you want Big Guns to do?”
“To ‘assassinate’ all of the most vital government, economic, and media based Ponies at the gala using your ‘syringe,’” Grif said, gesturing to the charcoal stick.
“And that’s all?”
“That's all.” Grif nodded.
“I’m not exactly stealthy, Grif,” Big Guns pointed out. “But I can try. Maybe get some lessons from Camo and Espio?”
“Oh, I’ve arranged for you to receive the lessons you need, as well as a new wardrobe. And don’t worry. I am paying you for this.”
“And that pretty cow won’t be there?” he asked nervously.
Grif chuckled. “Not as far as my contacts can tell.”
“Alright. You have a deal.” Big Guns rose and extended a thick hand over to Grif.
Grif grabbed it in his talons and shook it. “And remember. Not a word. I’ll come to you with the details.”
“You can trust Big Guns,” the Minotaur promised, then rose, took his battle hammer in one hand and the box with the other, and left.
Shawn sighed to himself as he rolled his wrists around with a few cracks. Years outside of his human form left him feeling disoriented and thrown off balance when he turned back. Because of that, he felt the need to stay Human for some time, primarily to readjust. After a few moments he leaned back in his chair, placing his feet up onto the empty corner of his desk, and just sat there thinking to himself as he let the world go by. After Thought ended up taking a good chunk of his work out of the picture, and now he was left with some more free time than he was ever used to. He thought back to past adventures, to his old life, his time with The Doctor, the day he was destined to….
“You know, it’s getting stranger to see you in that form,” Grif said as he entered the room.
Shawn looked over at Grif for a moment before relaxing again. “To think we started like this, eh? Born and raised on Earth, lived our lives on Earth, and then one day, poof. Here we are….”
“Yes, but I was also raised on Equis.” Grif chuckled. “It’s doubly awkward.”
“To be expected,” Shawn replied, shrugging. After a moment he groaned. “I feel old. Mentally, that is. It doesn’t help that by Human standards I shouldn’t be able to keep doing these adventures. Heck, how old am I now, fifty, sixty?”
“Somewhere around there plus a thousand years,” Grif said casually.
“Not helping the part of me feeling old.”
“That’s the sad part. By equestrian standards, you're not even old yet.”
“Yeah, and that means I have a whole lot more….” he paused, sighing. “Yeah.”
“What do you do with all that time?”
“Wait for the inevitable, doing anything and everything until the end.”
“That's kind of bleak,” Grif noted.
“Well, when you have the knowledge that I have, you don’t have much else to think on.”
“Ah, the curse of power,” Grif said.
“No, the curse of knowledge.”
“Knowledge is power.”
“Yeah.” Shawn frowned. “Grif, listen. I, uh… jeez, I don’t even want to say it.”
“We usually avoid saying the important things,” Grif said as he stood on his hind paws and folded his arms. “What is it?”
“The TARDIS showed me information. On myself. Specifically.…” He took a breath. “The day I’m going to die. And it isn’t very far off...”
“You know that the TARDIS can’t see everything, right?”
“I saw a glimpse of it. She isn’t wrong.”
Grif’s expression darkened. “How long?”
Shawn shook his head. “Just know it isn’t that far off. I still have a bit of time left, but … I refuse to say it.”
“And I refuse to believe it,” Grif said vehemently. “The past is solid, but the future is unsubstantial and formless. We aren't slaves to some preset design that says what will happen to us.”
“Then know this. If events follow the path I saw the end of, I won’t be returning, and the worst part is I don’t know the path.”
“Then don’t try to prevent it,” Grif said pointedly. “We both know that's the worst thing you could do.”
“Yes, yes, to attempt to prevent it will lead to it. I know.”
“Well I hope it doesn’t happen. I always figured I’d be the first one of us to die. I’m the plucky one. That’s my place in this story.”
“Amusing, considering as a Gryphon you’re supposed to be the one to outlive us,” Shawn replied. “Another thing, Grif. Please keep this between us.”
“I can think of a million reasons not to tell anyone else, and no real good ones to tell them, so don’t worry about that. Pensword would be up and stressing all the time trying to talk you out of it, and Vital may end up trying to take your place.”
“Part of me wishes you saw that glimpse, but at the same time, I don’t want anyone to see what was happening….”
“Well, if you are going to die, then you should try to enjoy every moment to its fullest. Less time in the forge, more time up here with the rest of us.”
“Old habits die hard.”
“Old friendships die harder.” Grif chuckled.
“Got that right.” Shawn grinned. “Knowing you guys, I’d suspect some sort of plan to bring me back.”
“I’d fight death himself if that's what it takes.” Grif smiled at him. “You know I would.”
“I know, but that wouldn’t change much. Death isn’t that threatening.”
“Hey!”
“Not talking to you, Death. Get out of here and get back to your job,” Shawn commented idly as he looked over to the robed figure.
Death grumbled as he phased through the wall, throwing several dirty looks in Shawn’s direction.
“I guess I’ll have to find that out when the time finally comes.” Grif shrugged. “I don’t have the luxury you do there. I’m blinded by these eyes I have.”
Shawn simply chuckled as he relaxed into his chair once more. “I missed these conversations.”
“I do, too,” Grif agreed. “How do you deal with it? So many lives depending on you.”
“I’m a really good actor,” Shawn joked. Then he sobered. “Honestly, I don’t know. I felt bothered by it at first, but then I found myself working into it. I felt the need to lead them down this path, an honest path.”
“Yesterday, when we dedicated the compound, and I saw all those faces looking back at me, I felt a chill go up my spine. Over two hundred lives putting themselves in my hands. I’m not a leader. I’m not even a real gryphon. I’ve never led more than forty or fifty, and those where war bands, and even then I had high casualties. It scares me to no end to know if i screw up, they all could die.”
“Then don’t screw up,” Shawn replied. “You’ll lead them fine, Grif.”
“Thanks, Shawn,” Grif said as he looked down at his talons. “I just hope you’re right.”
“I know I am.”
A long silence followed. Finally, Grif broke it.
“Well, I’ve got stuff to do. Don’t overwork yourself, Shawn.” Without another word, the Gryphon left..
Shawn simply laughed at the comment as he leaned further back into his chair. After half an hour passed, he faintly heard a set of hooves moving towards his door, said hoofsteps following a specific uniform pattern of movement. “Come in, Pensword.”
“I shall, Hamme–Shawn?” Pensword asked in shock as he reared his head back. “I ... I have not seen you in human form in a long time.” He chuckled. “I thought you finally consented to the superiority of the Equine form for Equestria.” A smile tugged at the edge of his lips.
“Nah, not giving up on fingers just yet. The fine control is useful to an engineer,” Shawn replied with a grin.
“True, but fromw what I have seen, what I have done with my hooves and wings, it can work. It has worked.” He looked around the office before finding his usual cushion. He easily flew over, grabbed it, and placed it before the desk before alighting on it to stare at Shawn. “I still feel like an oversized dog sitting on this,” he admitted. “Or a beanbag chair.”
“Want a biscuit to make you feel better?” Shawn joked.
Pensword groaned. “I flew right into that cloud,” he muttered, hanging his head shaking it with a wry chuckle. He looked up. “So how goes the day? I am about to end it, once Lunar Fang gets back from Ponyville. Also, where is Polished Brass and your staff? You haven’t sent them away, have you?”
“No, no. They just simply finished their work in this area. As for the day, it is going… slowly. I’ve been trying to ... relax, I guess. How are Lunar Fang and the young one?”
“Moon River is currently out terrorizing the camps with three Thestral foals and one Pegasus,” Pensword answered. A flicker of pride shone in those eyes, even as he shook his head. “The Kitsune have been having fun with teaching her hiding techniques. I think she won some kind of bet with them.” He paused. “Does that mean the Kitsune are going to be attending your wedding? What will they do during the gala?” He shook his head as he realized he hadn’t finished answering Shawn’s last question. “As for Lunar Fang, she is doing well. She’s been a little moody, but then again, she is with a foal again, so she is visiting Ponyville. I don’t know what about this time. I think it is to pick up food at the market.”
“Wow, that is something I didn’t think on… I mean, I’d love to have Haku here for the wedding, but from what I hear, I doubt they would enjoy him coming out this far from home.” Shawn hummed. “With the gala on the way, I need to tell them I have to delay the trip … again.”
“I am sure they will understand. And if he learns you are getting married, I think they will let him go … with a large personal guard,” he amended. “I’d better start clearing land for a visitor’s quarters. Uh … with your permission. This town, we need more ponies working here.” He was starting one of his spirals, so Shawn was quick to act.
“We have a staff of nearly two hundred servants, artisans, and craftsmen, with more on the way once they finish the first building, which just happens to be an inn, in a way.” Shawn replied. “Primarily to hold the workers, but later to be for visitor use. They just have to work on finishing the clearing for the first ring of the city, pave the roads, and then the building will be started.”
Pensword sighed happily. “I am so relieved to hear that, and I want to apologize for the mix-up with my Thestrals.” He chuckled. “Still, we are becoming the melting pot of Equestria now. Which reminds me, how is El Fluffy?”
“Roaming and relaxing wherever he can, unlike Renati, who is currently resting on his perch, staring at the back of your head with indifference.”
“I saw him on the way in. Any news? I thought I heard a rumor that he might be a father,” Pensword said, flicking an ear in the Phoenix’s direction.
“He likes the Canterlot visits for a reason.” Shawn chuckled.
“I can only imagine why.” He looked around him. “It will be interesting to see how this place looks in ten years, fifty, a hundred.” He yawned before continuing. “I will treasure these visits. I do not know when I will have to fully live in Ys, but I know we will always be friends.”
“I guess we’ll see how long until you have to move out there, eh?”
“Indeed. I hope not for another year at least. I still have to deal with the troops here and work with both Celestia and Luna. Plus, it is easier to travel to Canterlot from here then Ys.”
“I kind of expected that.”
“So would you care for some tea before Lunar Fang, Moon River, and I sleep for the rest of the day? I think Moon River would love to try and hit you with a dart. It would be nice to host my good friend Shawn at least once to a nightly Tea event,” He said with a smile.
“I’d enjoy that.” Shawn smiled in return, though a sadness still hovered at the edge of his eyes. He would only have so long to enjoy his time with Pensword and the others. He would have to make every moment count. He would make every moment count.
Sweat beaded Vital’s brow as he handled the sphere once again, busily rotating it around his head as he read over the beginnings of his next chapter in the book.
“‘Elemental magic is some of the most basic and powerful magic a Unicorn can muster. This is why most famous mages have a special branch that they are most well known for.’” He panted slightly as the magical ball increased in its weight. “So we’re going into elemental spells?”
“Very good.” Clover slow clapped as she produced a thin sheet of paper. “First we’re going to see what you align with best,” she explained. “Put your horn to this and send in a small bit of magic.”
“Wait a minute, I’ve seen this before. You wouldn’t happen to have gotten that paper from a parallel universe involving ninjas and jutsus while you were traveling with The Doctor, would you?” Vital asked as he placed his horn against the paper. Furrowing his brow, he closed his eyes and concentrated to siphon off a little of his magic and pump it into the target without letting his levitation lose integrity. The paper became rigid in the air moments before falling to the ground and shattering like glass.
“Where I received this tool of arcane studies is none of your concern, and I believe you will acknowledge this, unless you’d prefer a thousand years of pain?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.
“If this is how you teach, I shudder to think what Star Swirl did to you.” He chuckled momentarily, then winced as the strain on the magical ball suddenly tripled. “It was a joke!”
“So it seems ice comes most naturally to you. That’s notably strange.”
“How come?” Vital gasped, his legs wobbling as the pressure and weight continued to increase thanks to the added input from Clover’s horn on top of his own.
“Because it’s a composite element. Ice isn’t found in nature on it’s own. It has to be where water and frigid air mix. Water and air. But you don’t show a particular advantage for these on their own.”
“I haven’t exactly tried with them much either,” Vital noted. “We’ve mostly been working on building my strength and endurance.”
“Okay then, try and make a small puff of wind,” Clover said, crossing her hooves.
“Um … how would I go about doing that again?”
“Concentrate on the wind and push.”
Vital Spark grunted in exertion as his horn glowed a little brighter, but little more than a weak puff of air blew there, not even distinguishable from the cold drafts of the castle. Vital panted as he let his magic go, dropping the ball onto the stones as he collapsed onto the ground, his four hooves splayed out beneath him. “That … was hard.”
“I suppose if I asked you to make a water ball from the water in the air, that would prove equally difficult,” she said.
“I’m guessing that would depend on the humidity, but yeah.” His breathing had slowed somewhat and he pulled himself up into a sitting position.
“That's because you're splitting your magic to do it,” she explained. “Manipulating the elements separately, or other elements entirely, isn’t beyond you, but first you need to be able to manipulate your element. Magic potential will only get you so far. The muscle must be worked to gain strength and endurance.”
“So you’re basically saying I need to work on the ice first because that one is technically like my core, and by getting stronger there, I can gradually work to strengthen the other parts of my magic that extend from it?”
“Well, you can be taught!” she said, smirking. “When we’re done today, check and see if Twilight has Wind Storm’s elemental reference guide. Then you need to read the chapter on ice until you have it memorized. Okay?”
“Sounds like I’m going to be up for a while tonight,” Vital said with a tired smile. “But progress is progress. Thanks for that, Clover.”
“Sleep is for the weak is the life philosophy of all scholars, my friend,” Clover said.
“Early to bed, early to rise, makes a man healthy and wealthy and wise,” Vital quoted back. “It’s an old saying from Earth. I can be a night owl when I want to be, but since I have to train with the guard, too, I need to learn to keep things in balance. That includes sleep.”
“Then you’d best figure out how to develop a photographic memory. Your magical training is as important as your physical training.” She looked through a pile of scrolls beside her.
“I think I’ll write a letter to Shining Armor. See how he balanced it out. Considering how strong he is both magically and physically, I’m guessing he figured it out.”
Clover let out an, “Aha!” of triumph as she levitated a scroll with a tiny snowflake emblem on its ribbon. “This is a simple ice spell. It’s called pinpoint subzero.” She rolled her eyes “The creator had a flare for the dramatic. Personally, I just call it icicle missile. It creates a small singular sharpened icicle that flies in a straight line to theoretically puncture the target. It’s not particularly useful against opponents in plate armor, but it can be particularly deadly against chainmail. Learn it by next week.” She handed him the scroll.
“Any more homework?” Vital asked.
“You have enough on your plate,” she said. “It’s funny. A white unicorn, ice type magic, this is all sounding very familiar. It reminds me of an old Zebra myth I heard once.”
“Really? I love myths!” Vital perked up immediately. “Do you think you could tell it to me?”
“If you master that spell by our next lesson, then I’ll tell you.” She smiled. “Run along now. I have to work on my class schedule for the rest of the troops.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Vital said, smirking with a playful salute as he gathered the materials together, placed them in one of his saddle bags, and clopped cheerfully out the door.
“You up in there?” Grif rapped gently on the door as he waited behind it with a serving tray balanced in his hand. He’d finally found the time to visit Kalima again about the rest of the story, and he knew from the duty roster that Thalia was also free.
“Are you just going to sit out there all night, Grif? Come on in. We’ve been waiting.” Kalima smiled as Grif entered the chamber. “And what have you brought for us tonight?”
“The bakers brought me a fresh batch of these this afternoon,” Grif said as he lifted the lid, revealing several pretzels. They had apparently been heated recently, as steam still wafted off them. “Stuffed with venison.” He grinned “I left most of them for the girls, but I figured you two would enjoy some for tonight's session.”
“And how are our mothers-to-be?”
“Shrial will be happy when she gives birth, I think. She keeps complaining to herself about the extra weight. We only just confirmed Avalon’s pregnancy, so she hasn’t had any major symptoms yet,” Grif said. “The twins seem to be very active, though.”
“That’s good. It means they’ll be healthy and strong when they finally come.” Kalima smiled as she took a bite of the pretzel, savoring the flavors and textures. “What an excellent concoction. Bardock should be pleased.”
“Well, apparently we do have some skills besides stone carving when we’re handed the freedom to pursue them.” Grif chuckled. “I swear the smiths have only been working with Storm Hammer for a week, and they’ve already begun new designs for the clan’s armor that have some rather bold improvements.”
“Just be careful not to let any corrupt Gryphons get a hold of them,” Thalia said with a smirk. She was wearing her father’s talon again at her mother’s behest.
“Careful, sister. There is a fine line between paranoia and reasonable suspicion. I have the same oath of the armorers and blacksmiths as I have from every clan member, and as such, I must respect my own oaths to them. If I cannot trust my extended family, then I have been doing a very poor job at organizing our ragtag band of misfits,” Grif noted.
Thalia laughed. “I meant the ones in Gryphonia that still want to force the old ways on people. I wasn’t talking about the family,” she promised.
“Don’t worry about that,” Grif said. “I have now been issued an imperial warrant to run my clan carte blanche of the empire, and order it as I see fit. We are, after all, not a clan of the Empire of Gryphonia, but the first Gryphon clan of the quadarchy of Equestria.” Grif smiled. “If a Gryphon is found trying to influence our clan’s organization, it is treason against five crowns,” he promised her. “Be at ease. All is well”
“So, are the two of you ready to continue? We’ve still a ways to go, and only a few short hours before this old bird will need her rest,” Kalima said.
“Ready when you are,” Grif said as he sat down. Thalia simply nodded as she munched her pretzel.
Our wedding night was a quiet ceremony, and fairly rushed. Fortunately, as a part of any military escort, a priest from the Temple of Winds joins to teach and perform the necessary rites for departed troops. It was not often that they performed a marriage ceremony, but the practice was slowly becoming more common as the militia and guard allowed more females to join their ranks. You should have seen the poor priest’s face when we handed him the stone and asked him to marry us.
“You want me to what?” he exclaimed, wide-eyed, and more than a little frightened.
“You are allowed to perform ceremonies, aren’t you?” Charelle asked.
“But with the emperor’s talon?” he squawked.
“Why? Is that a problem? It’s already been properly prepared.”
“And besides, what better way to seal a marriage than with a sign of the emperor’s favor? Surely the winds will bless us for it,” I said.
The priest gulped, but under the hardness of Charelle’s gaze, he relented. It was a short ceremony. There was no fanfare, no great noise, just a few soldiers to act as witnesses and the ceremony of blood. Gifts weren’t necessary when we had each other. Besides, I was pretty sure Charelle would be giving me plenty of gifts later that night. It turns out I was right.
Thalia blushed, even as Grif burst into laughter.
“I have no qualms about mentioning our more intimate moments, Thalia. It’s not as if I’m about to go into graphic detail.” Kalima smiled mischievously, even as she took a drink of water before continuing.
After some very satisfying hours, Charelle and I finally relented to common sense and the need to sleep. If we were to keep up the pace necessary to get away, we would need to be able to walk and fly steadily. I … I still remember how he whispered so gently to me that night. I felt perfectly safe next to him, and the warmth of his body and his arms around me sent me off to sleep.
… If only I had stayed awake.
“Kalima! Kalima! Wake up. It’s time to go!” Charelles voice filtered through the haze of my slumber. He was already fully armed and in his armor. The urgency pushed me to wake faster.
“Did something happen?” I reached for the items Haydee had given me. My own armor had already been laid for me to don.
“The Northeast Wind has been satisfied, but we must leave now,” Charelle said.
“Why do I smell smoke?”
“I will explain later, Kalima, but we must fly now!”
“What about the rest of the camp?” I remember him taking my arm then. I think it was the only time he ever handled me so roughly.
“They’ve already made their escapes. It will be weeks before the emperor can send troops, and we will be long gone by then.”
“But–”
“Winds damnit, Kalima, come on!” His eyes were hard and dark, angry. His feather seemed almost to glow as he pulled me into the air. The fields and forest were alight with flames. The smoke stung my eyes as we rose higher and higher still. I remember cries of alarm, a few shrieks, and the cries of women and children as they rushed to put out the fire. The one thing that stuck with me the most though, is a cry I will never forget. A great, piercing wail chased us as we flew above the cloudbanks. It was a wail I knew only too well. My heart made that sound on the night that my parents died. That wail was soon joined by others. They chilled me, and yet Charelle pulled me even faster, as if all he wanted to do was to get away from those screams. His face was stony, set into a scowl the likes of which I had never seen before. A shadow seemed to have crossed his visage, changed it. His eyes and feathers glowed a rusty red in the rising sun.
“‘And so mine enemies, having done me great wrong, called for righteous vengeance upon their heads. I therefore levied upon them my swift and brutal justice, as is deserved by they who would harm me, my clan, or those to whom I spread my wing,’” Charelle quoted as we flew. “Book of winds, Volume 16, Chapter 8, Paragraph 57.”
“Wait, what?” Grif cried. “What psyco said that?”
“You did, my son, or so the scribes claim,” Kalima said.
“But I never said anything like that. I never wrote anything for the book, or had anything transcribed. I’m going to write to Daedalus. That's false information!”
“You might want to write to the new Winds Father instead. I believe he is the one responsible for governing our faith, is he not?” Kalima sighed heavily. “If only he had known back then.”
“Oh I will,” Grif said. “Sorry for the interruption. Please continue.”
“Charelle. Charelle, talk to me. What did you do?” It had been hours since we’d left the camp. A rich cloudbank hid us from sight as we stealthily flew, doing our best to avoid any form of pursuit that might be mounted, though Charelle had informed me that would likely not be necessary.
He stopped for a while in silent contemplation. Finally, he opened his beak to speak. “I killed every adult male below fifty years of age, including my brothers.” His eyes were tired as he looked into mine. “And I burnt them.”
I don’t know exactly what happened for a time after that. One moment I was flying, the next thing I knew, I was lying on a cloud. The shock of it alone was enough to strike me into silence. I remember trembling, shaking. The cloud beneath me began to vibrate with me. My husband had not only taken vengeance on the ones who had harmed me, he had killed their sons, and in some cases their fathers. He had disfigured them for all eternity, leaving them to fly painfully on the winds, if they could ever fly at all. “And their wings?”
“I left them that dignity,” he said. “Only those of the ones you confirmed did I take.”
I honestly didn’t know what to say at that point. This was the battleborn. This was what Charelle had become. He had actively chosen to kill every one of them brutally, and with little to no remorse. What happened after that is difficult to recall. I wouldn’t be surprised if I had blocked them specifically because of the conflict I now had to resolve within myself. Charelle had acted on the words of scripture he believed gave him the right. But he also chose to use it as justification for the kills he had made, rather than seek another way. I remember feeling cold, and to an extent, very much alone. We didn’t talk much after that. He probably thought that I was silently judging him. And perhaps I was. I honestly can’t remember. All I do know is that the time eventually came when we got to the ship, and it was there that he and I were forced to address the problem of his actions. Our marriage had its rocky start, that’s for certain.
Kalima sighed heavily and shook her head. “The rest isn’t very important. Charelle struggled to make up for his actions that night to me for many years. And for many years, I remained barren. No matter how much we both wanted a child, I just couldn’t. A piece of me wouldn’t let go of what had happened that night. It wasn’t until we found the ceremony that I was finally able to let go of that piece that kept me from having a child, from having you, Thalia.” She lovingly stroked the side of Thalia’s face. “You are the legacy your father always hoped to leave. And you have given him the rest his spirit always yearned for, but could never have in this life.” She embraced Thalia warmly as she let the tears fall.
“Mother …”
Grif couldn’t help but smile at the touching scene. Knowing only too well when a woman needed her alone time, he stealthily slipped out the door. He shifted his wing for a moment and stared at his own metallic feather in contemplation. The story had taught him many things, both of errors to correct, and of the importance of treating his mates well. In the sea of chaos that was his life, they were his guiding lights. They, and all his friends. He smiled as he lowered his wing and made his way to his personal quarters. He had a few ladies to spoil.
“So, Rarity,” Grif said as the mare worked to regain his measurements. “Normally I tell you to go simple, but this time I need something … flashy. Not overly elegant or refined, but easily eye catching. I want to try and keep a lot of nobles distracted for as long as possible.”
“Why, whatever for, darling? I know that little glint in your eye. What’s the plan, hmm?” Rarity asked as she ran her measuring tape over the Gryphon’s form. “Hmm. How does silk suit you? I can add a few accessories for shine, really make the colors stand out. That should keep their attention away for a bit, especially if Fancy Pants compliments you. Do that and the nobles will be eating out of your hand. You may want to have a little chat with him about that before the dance.”
“I trust you’re aware of princess Luna’s announcement for the gala?” Grif asked.
“One is open to certain privileges when one’s coltfriend happens to be a legendary lord.”
“I’m attempting an operation to ensure we don’t have a hundred minor lords with standing armies threatening full blown war because someone looked at them the wrong way.”
“That does tend to happen an awful lot, doesn’t it? You still haven’t answered my question though, Grif. Silk, or some other fabric? I do have a lovely velvet if you prefer.”
“Which is less likely to wear down by the end of the night? Silk is great and all, but I wouldn’t want to tear it by accident.”
“Well, I suppose I could always try my new experimental fabric. I used it for one of Hammer Strike’s more formal designs so he can be ready, even at a noble event. I called it KEVLAR. You’d be surprised how versatile it is, and it breathes so well, too. Though I did have some trouble getting the diamond dust to meld with the fabric for a time.”
“That sounds great, Rarity, but do you think you could use emeralds instead? Quite partial to green, you know.”
“Darling, the diamond dust isn’t for show; it’s for strength. Emeralds just don’t stand up the same way, and to be perfectly frank, the diamond dust doesn’t even show on the fabric. I can sew the emeralds in with that new emblem you had made for your compound though. That would be a nice touch.”
“I guess I’ll leave it to the expert. I realize you’re spectacularly busy right now, but do you think you could drop by to see Kalima, Shrial, and Avalon about their dresses? I’ll compensate you, of course.”
“I won’t hear of it. Why, it’s a simple walk down the path. Though you may want to invest in a little weeding, darling. Those black shoots are starting to get a little overgrown, and they look positively ghastly in the middle of the road like that,” she tutted, jotting down a few final notes before removing her materials. “Alright, Grif, you’re done. Pensword, if you could come along back here, please?”
Pensword trotted up to the dais while Grif took his place watching by the door. “As you know, Lunar Fang and I both gave you the designs for the outfits. I hope you do not mind that I would like having a main outfit fit for an officer, rather than a noble.”
“Pensword, it’s positively perfect. What better way to show off for a bill than to be properly garbed in formal military rebalia? It’s so romantic,” she swooned, even as her magic lined the measuring tape over his barrel, legs, and withers.
“Yes, but remember, Lunar Fang and Fox Feather get the romantic evening. You get to be with Lord Strike,” he answered with a chuckle.
“And that, my dear Pensword, is positively heavenly.” She sighed wistfully as she began sketching up a design. “Do you mind tassels, dear? I think they’d look positively ravishing on you.”
“I agree, that would do well,” Pensword said. “You could do the same with Lunar Fang and Fox Feather.”
“Hmmm. I’ll have to modify them slightly to be more neutral. Epaulettes are so last season, and besides that, they focus too much on the colts, not nearly enough on the ladies. I assume you want them to function formally while still ringing along the lines of a military uniform, correct?”
“Military Uniforms do not change by season,” Pensword said. “A Military Uniform, especially this style, is formal.”
“Military uniforms are generally the armor and not much else, darling.”
“I will be changing that. These are to be non combat formal KEVLAR uniforms to be worn at galas and unit parties.”
“I’ll make sure to send you my formal sketches for approval by tomorrow evening.”
“Thank you. And while I am here, can I have a nice–” He broke off. “You do still have the measurements for my human form, right?”
“I keep them on record, yes, but with all the exertions you’ve been making in this one, I wouldn’t be surprised if they were obsolete by the time you change back.”
“Okay,” Pensword replied as his ears flattened. “Still, I guess I have everything taken care of. You’ll talk to Lunar Fang and Fox Feather when you go to speak to Kalima, Shrial, and Avalon?”
“Naturally. I still need their measurements after all, and I’m sure they’ll likely want some special additions to be made.”
“Of course.”
“Alright. All done, Pensword. Now comes the challenge. Oh, Big Guns, darling, won’t you step up here, please?”
Big Guns smiled sheepishly as he made his way up onto the platform. “What do you need Big Guns to do?”
“Just make sure to stand there for now, darling. I need your base measurements first. Then once we’re done with that, I’ll need you to perform a few flexes and motions for me, so I can get a general idea for the amount of give I’ll need to add to the sleeves and shoulders.”
“You’ll let Big Guns carry his weapons, too, right?”
“The Grand Galloping Gala isn’t generally a place for taking weapons, but considering how often Hammer Strike did it a thousand years ago, I suppose it’s only fair to take your desire into account as well. I may need to design a new sheath for your Hammer. I should be able to work with your sword and axe belt as long as I make them a central focus. The knife belts will be a bit more interesting, but I think a nice deep navy blue should do rather nicely. Blue always goes so well with black, and the red in your mane will really help make the suit pop.” She grinned. “Flex, please,” she asked.
Big Guns did so, and she took the measurements.
“Hmm. Gold, I think. Perhaps a jewel-encrusted pocket watch. Would you be too opposed to a war cape, Big Guns? For some reason, nobles always seem to pay more attention to imposing figures when they’re wearing capes.”
“It makes them look bigger,” Grif said with a shrug. “Big gets respect around here.”
“Um … Big Guns won’t have to wear fancy gloves, too, will he?”
“Well, maybe not all the time, but it would be best to start off wearing them before putting them in your waistcoat pocket.”
Big Guns sighed, snorted, and rolled his eyes. “The things I do for Equestria.”
Rarity patted the Minotaur on the leg. “There, there. It’ll be worth it once the bill passes. Now then, Vital, you’re up. Let’s see just how much of a stallion you’ve grown into, hmm?” she asked with a teasing smirk.
“Um … I need an adult?”
Rarity laughed at Vital’s blush. “Why, darling. I am an adult.”
One very embarrassing fitting later, Vital Spark returned to join his friends, his face as red as a cherry. “Not one word, Grif, you hear me?”
“Don’t worry. I promise I won’t say one word on the subject,” Grif chuckled.
“Promise me you won’t say many or a few either.”
“I could make that promise, but then I would be lying, and I can’t lie to you.”
Vital groaned. “It’s official. I’ve become the comedic relief.”
“Actually, you’ve been that for a while now,” Pinkie Pie said with her usual grin and squee before looking off in a random direction and winking. Then she was gone as quickly as she’d come.
“... And the fourth wall breaks continue,” Vital said as he chewed one of Pinkie Pie’s newest cupcake creations.
“That’s Pinkie,” Grif said, flashing a wink to no one in particular. “Now let’s get back to the castle. You’ve still got a few miles to make up in training thanks to this little field trip.”
Vital Spark groaned and collapsed on the floor.
“Ahem,” Baron Blueblood said, clearing his throat before the crowded room. “I hereby call this meeting of the Nobles of Opportunistic Bureaucracy to order,” he said coolly, waiting for everyone to be quiet. The hall soon died down as the various nobles of the alliance looked to their chairstallion.
“Very good. Now the first order on the ballot today is the Grand Galloping Gala. I trust everyone here is attending?” The other nobles nodded, and he nodded in turn. “Very good. Lady Jet Set will be available after the meeting with the lists of color schemes and designers you can reserve for your families. As you are all aware, we’ve agreed to boycott anything produced by ‘Lady’ Rarity,” he said, choking on the title. “As well as the colors of lavender, dark blue, and light fuchsia. However, my lords and ladies, there is yet another matter about the gala that requires our utmost attention. Our sources have confirmed that this year Princess Luna will be pressing forward a bill to re-militarize Equestria, and you are all aware what that means.” Baron Blueblood smiled greedily.
“Our families have been waiting for this chance for centuries,” Pansy said with flinty eyes. Golden bits appeared to have replaced his pupils.
“Yes.” The baron nodded. “We will not only be able to assert our authority as we rightfully should, but with our combined resources and forces, we shall without fail cut the weak links off the chain and eject the so-called noble houses who would cut more of our rightfully earned privileges. You all remember that we are still bound under our legal agreement, correct? No military action is to be taken against another member of our organization until such a time as our standing is secured.”
“And just when would we be certain of our ‘security,’ Baron Blueblood?” Fel Jade asked with a skeptical brow.
“When we are the true rulers of the seats of government, and we once again can appoint the commoners the House of Commons. By that point in time, we can make sure to control anypony they elect chairpony,” Baron Blueblood responded. “Hopefully by that time, our marriages will have tied our houses together into a strong united front to show against Princess Luna.”
“And what of her Thestrals? With Fel Jade’s little debacle, and the Crystal Empire’s offers for marriage, we have no way to control those savages.”
“My dear Duchess Pansy, the answer is quite simple. We don’t. What better way to control them than to make them give in to their own savagery by appointing them leaders of the future Military Orders of Equestria? We may have to give them a castle or keep, but if we could give Princess Luna her own little military orders, we could work on eroding her image as a princess.” Baron Blueblood smirked. “If she wants a military, then let her play general with her Thestrals. Soon enough, that’s all she ever will be in the eyes of her subjects.”
“The Thestrals will still prove a substantial threat, Blueblood,” Baron Sharp Spear said with a grave expression as his chin rested on his upraised hooves. “They have maintained their military and stealth training, such that it is. Let us not forget how easily they were able to fend off the Changeling threat with a mere two squadrons. And they are loyal to their–” he grimaced “–‘chieftess’ to a fault. They are not to be underestimated, especially since our houses will be starting from scratch.”
“Then I propose that you design and draft a means to combat and counter the Thestrals, Baron Sharp Spear. Your son certainly seems to have the nack for it. Turn that sneaky little brain of yours towards their downfall.”
“I have another issue, Baron,” Lord Cookie said, raising a hoof.
“The Chair recognized House Cookie.”
“There is the issue of Lord Hammer Strike to consider. His claim to his title is old, almost as old as the founders themselves, and if my current sources are to be believed, he now controls a personal guard larger than any forces we could hope to muster, even combined. On top of this, he has the loyalty of nearly every Gryphon mercenary in Equestria, a Gryphon-made warship of immense size and power, a Changeling hive, and if our most recent sources are to be believed, Horses from Saddle Arabia and Kitsunes from Neighpon have been spotted around his fortress. Our pool of Gryphons we can bribe has shrunken down to less than twenty percent of its former volume. Where are we to gain soldiers for this enterprise within the necessary timeframe?”
“I am well aware of this problem, my friend. I have already sent out recruiters amongst the less savory crowds in Manehattan and Las Pegasus. I have also begun talks with mercenary groups in the Stampede Grounds, Roostralia, and two Jarl’s from Yak Yakistan. Don’t worry. We will find soldiers, proper soldiers, as soon as we can legally amass them. We will then have them train our troops in the most modern and ancient tactics so that they will be able to counter any surprises Pensword may try to throw our way.”
“How much do we have budgeted for bribes and gifts at the gala to garner support?” Jet Set asked with a sly smile.
“We currently have seventy thousand five hundred bits held in reserve, another ten thousand in liquid assets, bits, gemstones, stocks, bonds, and certain land claims in Zebrica. Anything beyond this would need to come out of the briber’s pocket,” a large brown stallion with a grey mane and tail said. His cutie mark, which had been sewed into the flank of his finely tailored suit, was a large hefty purse spilling over with bits. Much like his cutiemark, he was notably hefty.
“Thank you, Fat Purse,” Blueblood said. “Very well. Is there any other pressing business?” Baron Blueblood looked into the group, but seeing no reaction, he nodded. “Very well. I will see you all at the Gala.” And with that, the meeting was over.
Vital Spark pushed the door open and trotted through to Hammer Strike’s office. “Hey, Hammer Strike? I’ve got a question for you.”
“And that would be?”
“Well, I’m not exactly an expert on marriages and stuff, and I know the traditions vary, but are you the kind of guy who wants a bachelor party, or are you more the type who just wants to relax and wait till the big day?”
After a few moments, Hammer Strike replied. “I honestly haven’t even thought about it.”
“And what about the best colt and groomsmen?”
“I mean, I thought that part was a bit of an obvious choice,” Hammer Strike replied simply.
Vital shrugged. “Fair enough.” There was a moment of uncomfortable silence. “I learned a new spell,” he finally said.
“I heard you’ve been advancing in your studies. Which spell in particular?”
“It’s essentially a frost bolt, like the one you can cast in World of Warcraft, but it lets me cast it in miniature with multiple icicles, too, if I want.”
“I’ll pretend I still remember the game,” he replied. “But that’s good to hear.”
“You know, it really sucks you still have trouble remembering things from back home. I know you’re making Equestria home now, but I don’t want you to forget where you come from, you know?”
“You have to realize. I want to remember, and keep remembering, but for me, I’ve spent most of my life here in Equestria. Peter and Matthew each have dealt with their memories being mixed together. They try to remember a year ago, and they remember two stories, but both sets of memories are perfectly clear. I got everything in one sudden jolt, and that is over fifty years of my life in one sudden moment. I just can’t remember it all. It’s not possible. What I have around me is what keeps my memories of Equestria in my mind.”
“So when you go back to Earth for the expedition, does that mean you’ll remember more of your human memories and less of your Equestrian ones?”
“Possibly. It depends on if I can remember locations and faces.”
“That would kinda suck if you ran into your family and couldn’t remember them.”
“I can remember them. I can’t forget my family that easily.”
“Never said you could. I was just reacting to your previous statement.” Vital Shrugged. “So I’m a little confused about something you wrote in your translation. You said aspects could be combined to form new aspects, but that they were incredibly dangerous. Are there any hidden aspects or aspect combinations that haven’t been discovered yet?”
“There is almost a never-ending amount of combinations that can be made, but the problem with that is the stability of the compound. There are ones that were mentioned that I dare not speak of, yes. And there are combinations that I don’t know.”
“So is there a way to technically fuse them all together and make a sort of … ultima materia for lack of a better term?”
“In a way, yeah, but it would kill you.”
Vital Spark whistled. “Dang.”
“Deadly stuff.” Hammer nodded.
“Note to self. Don’t ever use thaumaturgy unsupervised. Not that I would anyways.”
“I kinda did write that warning everywhere in the book.”
“So, you wanna hang out for a bit at the range? I’ve been meaning to work a little more on my aim with that pistol you gave me.”
“I could use some practice myself…”
A figure moved silently through the boutique towards Rarity, hiding behind ponyquins, slipping past fabric bolts, and under Opal. Her sense told her she was still undetected in her special mission as she moved through the shop with the grace and ease of a large jungle cat, or a small jungle cat, or a cat in general, really. Finally, she moved the last few feet silently and planted the cupcake next to the white Unicorn before tapping her shoulder and vanishing behind her.
“Huh?” Rarity turned, only to find nobody there. Then she checked her other side. Then she saw the cupcake.
Look Behind You, the cupcake read. Rarity did so hesitantly. “Pinkie?”
The entire boutique had been fine a second ago, but now the space was filled with balloons, and streamers lined the walls. A large banner spelling out CONGRATULATIONS ON YOUR ENGAGEMENT PARTY! hung from the ceiling at equal lengths from the upstairs railing to the shop’s upper window alcove. The large capitalized letters almost seemed to scream their message out to her.
“CONGRATULATIONS ON YOUR ENGAGEMENT, RARITY!” Pinkie said, invading the Unicorn’s personal space to give her a bone-crushing hug.
Rarity let loose a sound very similar to a squeaky toy before breathlessly replying. “Thank you, Pinkie PIe, but … do you think you could do a bride a favor and put me down? I … can’t really breathe.”
Pinkie pie beamed as she put Rarity down, literally bouncing in place on her hooves as she spoke at a mile a minute talking about the bachelorette party, and then the wedding party, the wedding after party, the wedding gift opening party, the baby shower (wait, what?), birthdays, anniversaries, hearts and hooves days, hearths warmings, “and you’ll both live happily ever after, and we’ll have a happily ever after party!” She stopped just as Rarity was beginning to wonder, not for the first time, where all that air came from.
“Well, thank you, Pinkie, but let’s focus on the present for now. We have quite the bridal shower to plan. I hope you won’t mind being one of my bride’s mares, would you?”
“I’ve always wanted to be a bride’s mare!” she said, hopping.
“Good. I wouldn’t dream of going to the altar without you girls.” She reached over to hug the pink party Pony. “On the off chance that your pinkie sense might be able to help me, Pinkie, could you perhaps tell me where Fluttershy is?”
“If we hurry, we might catch her in the market!” Pinkie said happily.
“Then by all means, let’s go,” Rarity said. In a matter of moments, her shop was ready to close for the day. With a final farewell, she shut the door, and the pair were on their way. “Oh, I can hardly stand it!” she said, giggling all the while.
“I guess that means I owe Applejack five bits.” Pinkie giggled as they left.
“Whatever for, Pinkie?”
“She put her money on you being first,” Pinky said, hopping happily down the road.
“She did, did she?” Rarity didn’t know whether to feel pleased or upset over that. “Oh, nevermind. I’m too happy to care. Oh, and there’s Fluttershy!” She immediately raced up to the Pegasus in question. “Fluttershy, darling, how are you?” she gushed.
“Oh, hello, Rarity. I’m doing alright. Just getting some ingredients for Angel Bunny. He’s been good this last week, so I’m making one of his favorite treats,” Fluttershy responded as she paid some bits for a cherry.
“That special little salad of his? You know, the last time you gave that to him, he was sick to his stomach for two days. Are you sure you want to put him through that again?”
Pinkie was vibrating on her hooves as she waited for Rarity to bring up the good news.
“Oh, no. That was because he ate a flower in the backyard that didn’t agree with this tummy,” Fluttershy responded with a happy smile. “I checked his scat to see what was causing him discomfort.”
“Oh. Um … well, I had something I wanted to ask you, Fluttershy. That is, if you don’t mind us going somewhere a bit more … private?” Rarity asked.
“Oh, sure. We can talk back at my place, I actually just finished.” She smiled innocently. “Besides, I want you to see your bird choir. They were so excited when they found out you were getting married.”
They soon arrived back at the outskirts of town on the border of the Everfree, and Fluttershy greeted her many animals before they made their way inside.
“So what is it, Rarity? You said you needed to ask me something, right?” Fluttershy asked as she laid out the ingredients on the counter for an impatient Angel Bunny.
“Well, dear, we’ve known each other for such a very long time, and what with the spa days and the girls’ days out, and everything else, well … I wanted to ask you. That is ... “ She fiddled with her hooves, then just went outright and said it. “Would you be my mare of honor?”
Fluttershy let loose a tiny squeal of surprise. “M-m-me?” she asked in shock. “I, Well I–” She stammered, retreating behind her mane. “But wouldn’t one of the others be a better choice? I don’t do well in front of crowds.”
“Fluttershy, you wouldn’t have to deal with any crowds. All the Mare of Honor does is help plan the wedding and celebrations. She organizes things with the bride’s mares and delegates work. And you won’t be alone. I’m asking all the others to be my bride’s mares. It’ll be just like when we planned for the Summer Sun Celebration.”
“Oh. Well, I guess that would be okay. That is, if it’s okay with you.”
Pinkie exploded in a happy cry as she glomped both her friends, and giggling, they collapsed to the floor. As the three finally rose to make plans and send messages to the others, Angel Bunny rose dazedly from the floor, having narrowly escaped being crushed to death by the excitement of three giddy mares, and made his way to bed. Fluttershy didn’t pamper him nearly enough to put up with this.
Extended Holiday Ch 91: The Blue Carpet Treatment Act 12
The weeks passed quickly, and the night of the gala found it’s way around before anyone fully realized it. Groups of Ponies, Gryphons, and other denizens of Unity found themselves dropping everything, or being dragged away in Hammer Strike’s case, to prepare for the event.
Griff straightened his tie for the fifth time out of impatience as he sat in the mid-sized sitting room of his house waiting for the other members of his family. He felt exposed, even though he had the familiar weight of swords strapped across his back. He had been forced to compromise in only bringing a set of decorative blades. In return for this, Celestia had agreed that the dignitaries from Gryphonia didn’t need to know about the stilettos hidden within convenient pockets in the sleeves of his suit. He tapped each, reassuring himself of the familiar weight.
Big Guns had left earlier that morning in a Pegasus chariot Grif had arranged. He would make an entrance and establish himself amongst the nobles of Canterlot as the charming Sir Reginald, Duke of Chapton.
Grif checked his collar again as he waited. Rarity had managed to create an emerald-green three piece suit with a steel-grey shirt to contrast. He had managed to find a set of silver jade-tipped cufflinks for the sleeves, giving him a flashy green and silver look that he hoped would incite attention towards him. He had attempted unsuccessfully to get Celestia to agree to him bringing the cane sword he had brought back with him across the mirror, but Celestia had been adamant about it staying at the compound.
“Come on, girls. We have to board soon if we want to make an entrance,” Grif mumbled as he straightened his tie again.
“In a minute, Grif,” Avalon called. “Shrial’s being self conscious. You head up to the dock without us. We’ll meet you there.”
“Why would she be self conscious? She could make a wet paper bag look radiant.” He sighed. “But I suppose I’ll have to go anyway. Love you, girls. I’ll see you soon. Remember to get Kalima on your way over,” he said before taking to wing and heading out the window.
Hammer Strike had taken his place inside the helm. Wearing a black overcoat with a red trim to match the large black blade in a sheath on his back. A singular glowing eye in the hilt of the sword looked around him as faint muttering came from the blade. He couldn’t help but smile at having the blade returned to him.
“The arcane networks in here are amazing,” Clover said as she examined the room closely. “Who would have thought the Gryphons could build something like this?”
“You should have seen it before I reworked the system,” Hammer commented.
“Still, in my time, an object of this size not made of cloud was considered to be entirely impossible. You could fit a miniature village on the deck of this ship alone.”
“Your time was my time as well, but yeah, you probably could fit a village on this.”
“The entire estimated possible population of the ship exceeds the population of the nearest possible settlement,” Caring Circlet spoke up as her golem shell approached through the sliding door.
“That's incredible,” Clover said. “You never did say how this is powered. I know the Gryphons use stormstone cores for their smaller vessels, but this is way too massive for even the largest cores.”
“Circlet, if you could?” Hammer Strike said as he sorted through a few papers on a nearby table.
“You are certain we can trust her with this?” circlet asked.
“Yes, I am. Just don’t say a word to anyone else, okay, Clover?”
“I kept a lot of secrets for Starswirl. I’m pretty sure I can do the same for you,” she said with a casual flip of her mane.
“The ship is powered by a philosopher's stone,” Cirlcet said simply.
Clover stared at them for a minute before laughing loudly. “Oh, that's good. A philosopher's stone. I didn’t think you were one for jokes, Hammer Strike. How long did you two plan that?”
“Ever since I learned it was a philosopher’s stone. There was tons of prep work involved,” Hammer replied sarcastically.
Clover stopped. “You’re … serious? Starswirl tried a thousand times. I watched all of them. The creation of a philosopher’s stone is impossible.”
“Nope, just took more than Starswirl was willing to give,” Hammer Strike replied as he gestured towards Circlet. “Why do you think she’s in a golem?”
“Your saying she isn’t a magically constructed simulation?”
“She’s the creator, Clover. Her soul is in that golem because without it, she’d only be able to travel around ten feet from the core.”
“That’s …. incredible!” Clover’s eyes widened as she processed just what this new information entailed. “A core of limitless arcane power. The gryphons must not have even realized what they had. The things you could add to this ship without the core even begging to be stressed….” Her reaction reminded Hammer Strike of a certain purple Alicorn as she mumbled nigh incoherently about magical potentialities and possibilities.
“Already been working on that.”
“You’ll have to show me your notes later,” she said excitedly.
“As soon as you can understand the magic I use, which will happen when I actually begin to explain it to you, because you aren’t getting the book without my usual list of warnings.”
“Weren’t you supposed to be prepping the ship for a journey?” Circlet interrupted.
“I’m working on it. The problem with this, though, is this is the first run, and I don’t know how much power I should put into the engine.” The sword muttered something. “No, no, we’re not doing that,” Hammer replied, shaking his head.
“Destination of Canterlot is approximately eighty miles, at maximum speed we could reach it in twenty seconds, but i doubt that's your desire.”
“I want us to get there in one piece, and not with the sense of motion sickness.”
“I suggest a cruising speed of eighty miles an hour, thus a one hour trip. Everyone survives the trip, and we get no estimated casualties from the sudden stop. Will you be planning a fireworks display upon entrance?” Caring Circlet enquired.
“If I wanted to press our luck, it would be fireworks, the flamethrowers, and possibly the aspect cannon, but, I shouldn’t because they haven’t been tested yet.”
“So, the works, then. You’ll want to use a low level power draw.”
“Would anything be considered high power draw at this point?” Hammer asked. “‘Cause I don’t think so.”
“I’ve been running some calculations on possible ideas, but nothing comes up yet,” she noted.
“I could make something of high power drain, the problem being I don’t want to destroy any nearby planet or our own,” Hammer Strike replied with a grin. After a moment he looked over to Clover. “Could you check who isn’t on yet? Need to get moving.”
Clover nodded. “I’ll be back shortly,” she said before vanishing as she teleported away.
Pensword stood at the docks and smiled up at the vessel. He had received word from Princess Luna that a space large enough for the ship had been prepared so they could show off at the gala. The fact Shawn had yet to rename the ship still troubled him, though. It invited misfortune, and in a world where magic and superstition have a nasty habit of coming to life, it’s a pretty safe practice to follow the rules and traditions. Reluctantly, he pushed that thought aside. To his left, Lunar Fang was smiling, and to the right was Fox Feather, each in a beautiful gown to accentuate their unique characteristics.
Rarity had chosen feathers for her medium with Fox Feather this time, and had made sure to choose only the best of the white swan feathers she could get a hold of. To add to the impression, Fox Feather’s mane had been carefully plated and braided to hang down her shoulder and off to the side. Four burnished metal shoes had been placed on her hooves, and polished to look almost like glass, complementing the two simple diamond bracelets Rarity had included for the outfit.
Lunar Fang wore a glittering black dress that moved and swayed with her like a shadow in the night. Her Mane flowed wild and free down her back, but had been styled to add additional volume and waviness so that it reflected the light of the stars, giving her a glossy sheen. A sapphire-studded necklace graced her front, and two bands bearing a pale yellow diamond Rarity had painstakingly carved into a beautiful crescent moon played off her black palladium shoes.
In contrast to the ladies, Pensword stood in a formal suit with a tight white collar and buttons that went all the way down to hold it around his barrel. A series of medals and medallions hung from his noble sash, which had been artfully draped over his left shoulder and under his right foreleg to come around the back and meet again. The lighter blue of the sash made the perfect contrast for the dark navy blue of his suit, and also proved the perfect place to decorate with his medals of honor. Two black crescent moon cuff links indicated his affinity and loyalty to Princess Luna, and, on either shoulder, a series of thin golden ropes hung in ornate loops. As a final touch, Pensword’s moon-white mane had been styled and combed back with carefully patterned breaks to grant the appearance of layers, almost like a mixture of plate armor and spines. Each looked to the other and grinned, grateful that a capable foal sitter had been chosen from the Dream Clan to watch Moon River for the night. Luna’s bill would pass, and they would make their nation strong again. Passively, Pensword made a mental note to commission Rarity for a series of this formal garb. The tests she’d shown for the durability of the fabric against sword and projectile was positively stunning.
“Well, somebody’s looking fancy tonight,” Vital Spark complimented as he approached. Rarity had chosen to go with a basic cream fabric to help give a little more warmth to his mane, and added a red rose button holder. The interior of the suit’s collar had been studded with tiny gems on a red silk lining. His cutie mark had been carefully sewn on both sides of his flanks near the coat tails, which trailed black beneath. His mane had been carefully combed to the side with a bend at its tip to curve behind one ear, almost like an eddy.
“Pot calling kettle,” Fox Feather responded with a teasing flick of her tail, only to be whacked on the nose by Pensword.
“Still, if you’re not careful, you will find yourself married by the end of the night.” Pensword smirked. It seemed that he wasn’t so interested in defending his friend as he was in getting the first tease of the night. Lunar Fang kissed Pensword on the cheek, as had become her tradition whenever he used a contraction.
“Well now, it seems somebody started the party without me,” Grif said as he dropped from above and landed on the ground. “We’re not all going to break into song depicting how we expect the night to go, are we?” he asked, quickly raising an eyebrow.
Vital made a fake scoff as he contorted his face into the closest approximation of noble expectation he could manage. “Why, my dear Gryphon, it’s tradition, don’t you know. And we simply must stand with tradition.”
Pensword blinked four times before grinning as he broke out into a short song. “Tradition…. Tradition!” he coughed. “Uh, Matthew’s memory. Still–” He was grinning goofily. “I could sing a marching cadence.”
Vital Spark and Grif both stared for a good five seconds before they burst into simultaneous side-splitting laughter and buckled down onto the floor, kicking hooves, paws, and talons in the air.
“I take it we missed a joke?” Avalon asked as the ladies descended onto the deck. They all wore simple garb with plain white dresses, but a series of expensive jeweled ornaments had been clipped and woven into their crests while silver necklaces with large carrot gemstones shone to the world. Shrial was huffing and puffing from the exertion of the flight, but she still managed to remain upright as the ladies circled around her to offer their silent support.
“Just an inside joke between friends,” Grif said, smiling as he gave both Avalon and Shrial a kiss. “Now then, was Rarity joining us, or was she arriving with her friends?”
“The girls are all waiting for us in Ponyville,” Vital Spark explained. “Hammer Strike wants to pick them up in style before we descend on the nobles and make Blueblood’s night a living hell.”
“Well then take a deep breath, Vital,” Girf told him, getting a funny look. “Do it.” When Vital reluctantly did so, Grif flew in and picked him up, then instantly deposited him on the deck as the others flew over.
“I am really going to need to learn a levitation spell one of these days,” Vital said.
“Less than one in five hundred Unicorns have that kind of magical stamina,” Grif told him. “Learn to teleport, or get used to our little trips.”
“You do realize we have two of those Unicorns living nearby, right?”
“That doesn’t mean you are one of those Unicorns.” Grif gave him a poke as the others arrived. “Now come on. Let’s get below deck before Hammer Strike hits the gas.”
“After all, I would, as loathe as I am to say it, not give Scoots the expectation to fly faster than Rainbow Dash. Ponyville outright skews the level of competence. Rainbow Dash is actually one of the fastest Pegasi in this nation. If she is not careful, I dare say she might push herself into ascension if that is possible for a Pegasus. Lightning Dust is a few wings below her.” He sighed. “I truly think that these Elements of Harmony are doing something to those six. So many alpha or beta levels are in this one town alone. I think I will have to ask Clover if that is why mayhem happens all the time in Ponyville.”
Grif was the last to file into the ship's interior, closing the the door and checking to make sure it was firmly secured. “So let's see if we can make Ponyville in less than ten seconds.” Grif chuckled.
“That depends on the modifications Hammer Strike developed,” Vital pointed out. “But knowing him, I’m inclined to lean towards a yes on that one.”
“Hammer, everybody’s in,” Grif said as he tapped a nearby crystal.
“Alright then,” Hammer Strike’s voice replied. He chuckled. “Before we start our journey, I would like to issue a small warning. Hang on to something. Calibrations on the speed weren’t done, so we all get to test that first hand before we pick up the others from Ponyville.”
“In other words, get ready for a roller coaster ride.” Vital Spark smirked. “Bring it on.” Grif wrapped his wings protectively around Avalon and Shrial as the air around them swirled slightly. He hoped he’d managed to get the force cancellation part right this time.”
“Hold on, we, we are in a test run? You are saying that I get to be part of a speed run? Okay… I want to talk to Shawn about an open ocean sea run later. I want to see just how fast she can go.” An excited glint sparkled in his eye as he grinned. “I can hardly wait.”
The citizens of Ponyville had good reason to believe they had seen it all. They’d been attacked by Nightmare Moon, Discord, Cerberus, even their own resident dragon, as well as their own resident Alicorn librarian. The town had been destroyed numerous times in a vast number of ways. It was well known that house insurance within Ponyville was by far the most expensive rates anywhere in Equestria, so the residents felt pretty sure that nothing could surprise them on that warm Tuesday evening.
… They’d forgotten the chaos and madness a Tuesday can bring. The sky had been lightly dotted with puffy white clouds. In an instant the sky in and around Ponyville was clear as a wave of shearing wind dissipated each cloud in an instant. The Gantrithor stopped over the town seconds before the sonic boom resonated. Much of the town was darkened by the immense shadow of the airship as it hovered over them like an angry god that had come to wreak its terrible vengeance.
The town’s reaction to the sight ranged from the usual stares of awe and fear, with the occasional cries of, “The horror!” to choruses of “Whooooa,” or, “Cool.” Or in the case of one household, “Mom, the aliens are attacking! It’s just like in space attackers. Quick, we need the laser guns!” and one non-chalant, “Yes, Button, whatever you say,” as the mare continued preparing dinner for that night.
For six mares in Ponyville, however, the terrifying presence in the sky was simply a sign their ride had arrived.
“That is awesome!” Rainbow noted as she stared up at the air ship.
“It certainly is impressive,” Twilight agreed. “I just wish they’d given some advance notice to the rest of Ponyville,” she muttered.
“Twilight, darling, first rule of fashionability. You never come in announced. A proper fashionista, or in your case a princess, always makes a flashy and positively brilliant entrance, one that makes a statement,” Rarity said.
“Well it sure does that alright,” Applejack said as she placed her stetson back on her head.
Fluttershy peeked her head out from behind Rainbow Dash’s gown. “Oh-oh my. It’s pretty big, isn’t it? M-m-maybe we should just take the train?” she asked hopefully.
“But we always take the train. And the authors went to all that trouble to write that big exciting opening!” Pinkie said.
“Authors?” Twilight asked as she cocked her head. “What are you talking about, Pinkie?”
“Uh … look! A conveniently written distraction!” Pinkie shouted, pointing at the Gantrithor as one of the fireworks fired off prematurely.
The rest of the girls oohed and ahhed while Twilight just shook her head and rolled her eyes. “All right, let’s get on before the town goes into a complete panic.”
“THE END IS NEIGH!” someone shouted from some distance away.
“Non satis,” a deep voice growled from the ship’s crystal intercoms.
Button Mash rushed out of his house menacing the floating structure with a hastily constructed wooden sword.
“Sorry, sorry about that, everyone,” Grif’s voice echoed through the speakers. “Everything is fine. You’re all safe. It’s nothing to worry about. Would the elements of harmony please proceed with boarding?”
A long gangplank proceeded to extend from the ship’s deck with a metallic ring before the girls proceeded on board. Button Mash still looked menacingly at the ship, his wooden sword at the ready.
“Button Mash, you get yourself right back in here, young man. It’s time for your bath!”
“But mom–!”
“Now, Button!”
Button Mash growled, shook a hoof at the imposing ship, then made his way back into the house. “Next time, invaders,” he promised. “Next time.” Then he proceeded to hop into the tub and sulk while the ship took off.
And with that the ship left, and as soon as it’s shadow was gone, the denizens of Ponyville went back to their lives without a second thought of what just happened.
“Now before we take off,” Grif said, leading the Mane Six to the bridge, “Hammerstrike has asked me to remind you girls that this ship is very large, and we haven’t finished installing the you are here signs yet, so please don’t go exploring, okay?”
“But it’s all so cool,” Rainbow Dash said excitedly as she zipped around the hall. “A warship. A real live warship!”
“It’s got over a thousand different rooms,” Grif said. “We’re still mapping them all. If you get lost, you could literally starve to death before we’d find you. Hammer Strike found three skeletons already! That's not speculation.”
“Besides, as this is a warship, there are sections of the ship off limits to you, Hopeful Dash. If any of you have even close to full access, it is Princess Twilight Sparkle, and I know she won’t go off wandering around the ship and miss time with Princess Celestia,” Pensword answered as he walked out of a side doorway. “That means you as well, Pinkie Pie. Do I need to make you Pinkie promise not to explore the ship?”
“Nope.” Pinkie shook her head as they walked.
“What could power this?” Twilight said looking around.
“That information’s classified,” Grif replied.
“I’m a princess,” Twilight pointed out.
“Then you're only missing two levels of security clearance for me to answer that question.”
“Seriously? What could be higher clearance than a princess?”
“Supreme Commander of All Equestrian Armed forces, or being the head of the Lunar Courts,” Pensword answered. "Other then that, direct locations in chain of command is classified as well.”
“Or part of the party who captured the ship,” Grif noted. “Personal chamberlain to His Holiness, the emperor, High Clan Leader of the royal subdivisions, King of the Upper or Lower Kingdoms, or General to the Imperial Court. But Princess of Equestria isn’t an immediate military rank. Celestia held a rank at one point, but she retired it and all military privileges it entailed. You, however, have never been in war or headed an army. You’re going to find a lot of things are still beyond your knowing.”
“One of these days, that’s going to come back to bite you in the flank, Grif,” Twilight promised.
“I have haunches, not flanks.” Grif chuckled. “And I welcome the day you wield significant military power to do so, but I pray you never see war, Twilight.”
Twilight frowned. “I hadn’t thought of that. I’m an Alicorn now. That means I’m going to live for a really long time.” She was silent after that as she pondered that simple truth, and all that it entailed.
Then Grif bopped her on the head lightly. “Don’t do that.”
“I can’t help it,” she said irritably. “You’re the one who started it!”
“And I’m finishing it. We are meant to experience time in the now, not the then! Move forward, but don’t look too far ahead. The things you see might loosen your sanity.”
“But–”
“No buts!”
“Besides, you do not know what the future will hold. I know this from experience. Life will balance in the end. Not right now, but eventually it will. Focus on living your life day by day,” Pensword added with a small, sad smile.
“Twilight, Dear, let’s focus on enjoying tonight for what it’s meant to be, shall we? Besides, this will be your first time going as an actual Princess. You should be excited for the event. The glamor, the fame, the attention. The private time you’ll get to spend with Celestia,” she finished. “And who knows? Maybe Cadence and Shining Armor will come with that guard friend of yours,” she teased.
“Rarity!” Twilight blushed violently, and everyone broke into helpless laughter.
Grif opened the bridge door. “Hammer Strike, company’s here,” he said as he let the Mane Six enter.
“Good, good. Is everything locked down again for travel?” Hammer Strike asked from his spot at the controls.
“Ay, captain. We’re ready at yar command,” Grif said, doing a horribly bad scottish accent.
Vital Spark shuddered. “If’n it’s celtic ye’re after, me boiyo, ye should be focusin’ more on the authenticity. That was enough ta make me forefathers turn over in their graves, rest their souls,” he said in a fake Irish accent that was … somewhat better.
“Oy. I am surrounded by wise guys and jokers,” Pensword cried out, throwing his wings and hooves into the air in mock annoyance. “And Vital, how dare you put an Irish accent in Engineering. You know that the best are Scots.”
“I’m giving it all she’s got, captain!” Vital Spark shouted in a surprisingly good impression of a certain red-shirted engineer.
Hammer Strike simply ignored the conversation and moved over towards the crystal intercom, tapping it. “Alright, everyone. We will be departing shortly. Get yourselves ready.”
“Oh, by the way, darling,” Rarity said as she sauntered up to Hammer Strike, “who was that speaking while we were down on the ground? I don’t think I recognized his voice.”
“Ut esset mihi,” Hammer Strike’s sword responded.
“What it said,” Hammer Strike replied as he nodded towards his sword. The sword was a massive beast of ebony and silver five feet at its longest points, and a foot and a half at its widest. The sword seemed split vertically at the middle, and pincered inwards with double serrated edges that gave it a look not unlike a demonic crab claw. Veins of glowing red energy spidered all over the blade, pulsing a burning angry red, and causing the air around the blade to shimmer from the heat. The massive cross tree curved outwards wickedly into two sharp points not unlike a pair of fangs or horns. A large ruby had been set in the center of the cross tree that had a shifting black imperfection under it, giving it the unnerving appearance of a demonic-looking eyeball. Black cloth covered the hilt down to the pommel, tied down by lines of ebony chain. The pommel formed what appeared to be a gaping fanged mouth stretching out like a snake to devour some unseen prey. Several glowing red runes ran the length of the blade.
“I’m sorry, dear, did that sword just talk?” Rarity asked.
Twilight zoomed forward, gazing intensely at the sword. “Ohmygosh, ohmygosh, ohmygosh! A real fell blade There were only a few of these types of spellswords ever made! How were you crafted? What materials were used? What kinds of incantations and spells make up your enchantment? How old are you? Can I–?”
“Creata per, Malleus Percute,” the sword responded, the black imperfection shifting from Twilight towards Hammer Strike. “Ipse novit et responsa.”
“It sounds creepy,” Rainbow noted.
“What did it say?” Twilight asked.
“‘Created by Hammer Strike. He knows the answers,’” Hammer replied. “I made this sword over a thousand years ago for my trips to the gala.”
“Why make a creepy sword for the gala?” Rainbow asked, confused.
“Because then the nobles don’t bother me.” Hammer Strike grinned. “I made it sound dark, evil, and downright demonic. But in reality…”
“Pulchra Coquit.”
“It’s the kindest thing I have ever made. It complimented your dresses,” he translated.
“That sounds so cool,” Rainbow squeaked as she pressed her hooves to the sides of her muzzle with a giddy expression.
“It’s also the most impractical weapon you’ve ever made,” Grif commented. “Weight’s all in the blade, no smooth edges. It’s pretty much what equates to a saw blade. You’re not usually one for decorative blades,” Grif noted.
“Quod est non iniuriam.”
“It keeps nobles away, and that‘s all I wanted when making it.”
“Enough talk, Hammer Strike. Everyone’s strapped in. We know our destination. Let’s punch it!” Grif crowed in excitement.
“We’re going at half speed this time. I don’t think they want to vomit before we get there.”
“That … would be nice. Thank you, Hammer Strike,” Fluttershy said quietly behind the comfort of her mane.
“There is a place to sit over there,” Hammer Strike gestured to a few couches sitting off to the side. “Nailed down, too.”
Everybody who was not Grif, Pensword, or Hammer Strike got seated.
“Welcome to Hammer Strike airlines. We’re so pleased you’ve all chosen to fly with us today. Please take note of all the exits nearby in case of emergency, and please keep your arms, feet, paws, claws, and hooves inside the seats at all times. Beverages will not be served. Our expected flight pattern will have us arriving at Canterlot Castle in about five minutes. Please fasten your seatbelts, and once again, thank you for choosing to fly with us,” Vital said. He was about to chuckle when Hammer Strike punched the accelerator, promptly shoving the Unicorn back into his seat and shutting him up.
The Gantrithor was hardly the only airship making it’s way to the gala, but it was by far the largest and most intimidating. Pony airships, after all, were like luxury yachts held up by a large inflated balloon, not a massive floating structure that looked like it could house enough Ponies to fill a small village and still have enough room for armaments to level a city. This entrance alone would have been worth a mention at the front of the list of names of those who arrived in style to the gala on the high society portion of the next morning's paper.
But if you're going to show up, then why not show up? When the ship reached within a league of Canterlot, Hammer Strike flicked a switch and the ship treated those beneath it, not directly mind you, to a stunning fireworks display that lit up the sky. The display kept up until the ship was within twenty feet of the palace grounds. The ship’s altitude lowered as far as it could go before the gangplank was dropped. Moments later a long blue silk carpet rolled down the plank, across the courtyard, and by some abuse of physics that Twilight found infuriating, up the stairs and inside to connect with the red carpet in the palace. It was only at this point that the riders began disembarking.
Nobles who had been entirely convinced they were making an entrance could only stare, dumbfounded at the scene while the press scurried to get pictures of the group.
The wind kicked up, blowing in an unusually straight pattern across the carpet to form an aisle as it buffeted any nobles in the way to the side. Kalima walked into view first, her beak held high as she descended the gangplank. Grif soon followed with Avalon on his left and Shrial on his right, both of them held protectively under a wing as they descended together. As the group of four gryphons approached Canterlot Castle, one of the Gantrithor’s canons suddenly fired off a shot into the air, and just as the gryphons ascended the first step, a long gilded pole landed on the lawn beside the step. The top two feet fell sideways due to a hidden joint, and a long string of green cloth bearing the Bladefeather banner unraveled. The wind died instantly as the Gryphons vanished into the building.
Next came Vital Spark. Unlike Grif and the others, he simply smiled and waved awkwardly as he descended before making his way inside. He’d leave the showing off to the others for now.
Two trains of lunar guards marched out of the castle in orderly fashion to line either side of the carpet. As one, they lifted their spears in a salute. The guests were shocked and confused as Princess Luna herself stood at the front doors. Pensword exited the airship. On either side of him stood Lunar Fang and Fox Feather. He gaped at first, then smiled in a pleased way, as if he was coming home, as he started down the ramp. The guards held their salute as the ancient heroes walked down the aisle and approached the front door.
The bearers of the elements of harmony, minus Rarity, disembarked in mostly embarrassed fashion to the applause of the nobles, especially Twilight, who despite her recent adventures at the Crystal Empire, still had a ways to go with dealing with adoring fans. The five of them entered the castle as quickly as they could.
The crowd stopped dead before the next figure that appeared on the gangplank. An enormous flaming red heart appeared above the Gantrithor as she stepped into view. Her robes were a deep purple with highlights the same light blue as her fur. Her lethal-looking warstaff hovered at her side as she stepped forward. No one could believe that standing on the walkway was none other than Clover the Clever herself, the last founder of Equestria.
Several nobles timidly shuffled their way to the back of the crowd, having for years claimed and profited off a supposed ancestry connected with the famous mage. Others could only stare in awe, while still others bowed in respect to the ancient Unicorn. Her paces were careful, designed with a mathematical precision as she swung her staff. With every sixth of the distance covered, she swung the staff again, sending up a brightly coloured ball of fire that took the shape of the symbol of each of the founding houses. Standing at the foot of the stairs, she swung her staff three more times. Above these symbols, the symbol for House Strike seemed to sear the air itself in an angry fiery red. Well above it the flag of Equestria shone brightly with Luna and Celestia in yin-yang formation. Liebe. Leben. Freiheit. scrolled beneath it in scripted text, the old Unicornian translating to Love. Life. Liberty, which was Equestria’s former motto.
The crowd grew silent as the Gantrithor fired off all of its fireworks at once. There was the mighty stallion himself, standing in all his dark glory. His piercing eyes led many to cringe as they eyed the sword on his back. He smirked, then extended a hoof as Rarity walked up and took it. Her eyes had been shadowed with black mascara to accentuate her lashes, and a black eyeshadow had been applied with just a hint of red to form a halo. Spike’s fire ruby hung from an ornately polished black steel choker, and black diamond earrings studded both ears. A long flowing red dress with black sequins and a blood red trim accentuated her burnished red gold slippers. Seam Ripper lay elegantly on her back, delicate and refined to compliment the demonic and brutal appearance of Hammer Strike’s sword. The two shared a smile before walking down the gangplank, moving their way to the palace. The light caught on the gems of Rarity’s horn ring, sending out a multitude of colored lights across the audience as they passed in regal silence.
“Should we tell them now or wait until later in the festivities?” Rarity asked connivingly.
“Let’s leave them to ponder for now, shall we?”
“Oh, do lets. I can’t wait to see Blueblood squirm.”
Hammer Strike smirked. “That’s my girl.”
The group was stopped inside a large waiting area before the ballroom, where two somehow identical yet unrelated ponies confirmed either their invitation or their spot on a surprisingly small list of Ponies who were allowed in without needing confirmation. One of the stallions motioned to Twilight and her friends, ushering them to follow him in first. Rarity, however, insisted on staying for obvious reasons. Moments later the stallion returned, gesturing for the others to follow. As they entered the large Canterlot Castle ballroom, many faces stopped and stared. A few, however, did their very best to ignore the newcomers. The stallion moved towards another stallion by the entrance and handed him a small scroll before heading back into the room. The stallion then cleared his throat.
“Presenting His Lordship, Hammer Strike, Lord of Everfree and the Northern Fields: Vanquisher of Enemies to her Majesty, Princess Celestia; Vanquisher of enemies to her Majesty, Princess Luna; former regent of the Equestrian Third Army; conqueror of the Gryphon invaders; Veteran of the Third Gryphon War; War Leader of Fillydelphia; Celestia’s Ghost; Djinn of Flame, and High Smith of Equestria. Accompanying him is his entourage.”
Hammer Strike quietly sighed as he waited for the announcements to go through, wanting to just get it over with and move to a quiet spot where he didn’t have to worry about nobles.
“Lady Rarity, Wielder of the Element of Generosity, Dame of the Order of Harmony, Personal friend of Princess Twilight Sparkle, and Dame of the Eastern Gem fields of Everfree.”
“You know, I really have to check with Twilight about if that actually gives me the right to those gems,” Rarity whispered.
“Commander Moonkissed Pensword of the line of Pen, of the Thestral Dream Clan. Commander of the Equestrian Armed Forces under her Majesty’s command, Leader of the Gryphon Slayers, Conqueror of forts Triumph and Lunar Fang, Archduke of the Lunar Court, High Duke of Ys, Protector of the Crystal Crown, Knight Champion of Prince Bellacosa of the Crystal Empire, Veteran of the Third Gryphon War and the fall of the Crystal Empire, Survivor of the failed Gryphon Coup.”
Luna could just make out the subtle signs of shock and confusion in Pensword’s mask of formality as he heard the names. To all the other Ponies, Pensword remained stoic and calm. But all these titles brought home a truth he had feared to face for all the time he had been here. Like it or not, Equestria was his home now. He would never be able to live a normal life on Earth again.
“Lieutenant Commander Lunar Fang of the Thestral Half Paw Clan, Wife of Commander Pensword, Heroine of Fillydelphia, Archduchess of the Lunar Court, and High Duchess of Ys, Veteran of the Third Gryphon War.
Lunar Fang smiled as she leaned in and nuzzled Pensword.
“Major Fox Feather of the Gryphon Slayers Division, Third in Command of the Gryphon Slayers, Veteran of Triumph, Veteran of the Third Gryphon War. Future Bride of–” One look from Princess Luna stopped what might have been an incredibly long spiel of titles again. He cleared his throat nervously. “Commander High Duke Pensword.”
Fox Feather attempted to make herself smaller, unused to receiving such attention. Pensword stood at the bottom of the small slope, smiling happily as he opened a wing for her to go to.
“Clan Lord Grif Grafson Bladefeather; Avatar of Winds; Betrothed to Genevieve, Ninth Cousin to Emperor Daedalus; Commander of Grif’s Marauders Mercenary Division in service to the crown; Conquerer of the Evokers and their fortress; Guardian of the Northern Isles; Champion of Equestria and her colonies; Champion of the Crystal Empire; the Emperor’s savior, and nominated for the Emperor’s Falcon; and survivor of the failed Gryphon coup.”
Grif raised an eyebrow, but tried his best to remain calm as he, Shrial, Kalima, and Avalon descended.
“Lady Kalima Bladefeather, Mother and Advisor to Grif Bladefeather, former Lieutenant in the Ogre’s Eye Mercenary Band.”
Kalima inclined her head to the Ponies.
“Lady Shrial Bloodfeather, Valkyrie on the Winds, Ally to the Diarchy of Equestria, Shield Maiden of Grif Bladefeather, Second in Command of Grif’s Marauders Mercenary division.”
“Hmm. Not bad. I forgot how nice a title could sound. He might have actually survived a little longer than his fellows if he’d been that ingratiating during the war,” Shrial said approvingly. “Not that I approve of that behavior anymore, mind you.”
“Lady Avalon Farflyer Bladefeather, youngest daughter of Lord Garrus Farflyer, Lady of the Lower Southern Kingdom, Survivor of the failed Gryphon Coup.”
“Survivor?” she scoffed to her husband. “I know I need to lay low for now, but that’s just insulting.”
“Vital Spark, Junior Apprentice to Clover the Clever.”
Vital Spark nearly tripped on his way down the slope, his eyes practically popping out of their sockets in surprise. He did his best to stifle the rapidly rising, “What?” in his throat. Fortunately, he succeeded, albeit barely.
The last name on the list made the announcer’s eyes pop momentarily. He cleared his throat and threw his head back to give the name the full gravity it deserved. His tone had been tinged with awe.
“It is my distinct honor to present to you, my lords and ladies, the first amongst the founders of Equestria, Apprentice Formerly to Starswirl the Bearded, Archduchess of Canterlot and the Northern Mountains, Confidant of Princess Platinum, Igniter of the Hearth, Defender of the Faith, Lady Inquisitor, Lady Chevalier, Archmage Supreme of all Unicorn Kind, Lady Clover the Clever.”
The Unicorns, who had thought that they were done with the bombshells, all stood with their muzzles hanging wide open. The entirety of Canterlot lay in the blanket of silence, as if a spell had been cast over all Ponykind.
As Baron Blueblood’s attention was forward, he paid no mind to the gentle brush by the Minotaur he had been attempting a business deal with as said Minotaur made his way over to another group.
Pensword noticed the action, but knowing Grif, he remained silent and on alert. With a flick of his ear and tail, the other Thestrals knew to keep their eyes out, but to do nothing to cause panic. Pensword grinned as Fox Feather buried her muzzle into his wing, hiding her fear as affection. “So, Vital, see any pretty Unicorns you like?”
“Pensword!” Vital hissed.
“What? You do realize that with that one title you are going to have it worse now than before. What did you do with your plus one ticket anyway?” He was grinning as he saw some looks from the mares. “What? Are you more interested in Pegasus Mares? Or maybe Earth pony? Zebra? Or maybe a Minotaur cow?”
“You know I have a spell that can freeze you solid, right?” Vital grumbled.
Fox Feather poked her head out from under Pensword’s wing. “Oh? And you have two combat trained mares at his side. You wouldn’t last your horn glowing before one of us could jump you.” Now she was grinning. She waited a beat before sticking her tongue out at him as she stepped further into the crowd, her hairstyle still intact. “Besides, I am sure I could give you some tips on how to woo the mares.”
“Fox Feather, go to Tartarus.”
Pensword looked shocked before grinning happily. “Vital, you said your first swear word. I am so proud of you.”
“Ah, Fancy Pants,” Grif said as he greeted the noble. “Good to see you. And Fleur, you look radiant as ever. These are my wives, Avalon and Shrial, and my mother, Kalima.”
“Charmed, I’m sure, my fine ladies.” Fancy Pants Chuckled as he kissed each of their talons in turn.
“Ooh la la. I see you are with child,” Fleur said with her usual Phrench accent. “Children are such a blessing. Unfortunately, it is a blessing I will never know. You are positively brilliant, my friend. You positively lighten the room, as they say,” she said as she bent her head down to Shrial.
Shrial smiled. “They’re fighters all right. Sometimes I wonder if they’ll ever settle down.” Then she laughed. “It’s worth it, though. Just a few more weeks and I’ll be worrying about them fighting outside my belly.”
“I hope zat life is good to them, my friend,” she said. “At least, I hope zat we can be friends. And I hope ze birthing goes easily with you.”
“With Kalima’s help, I think it will.”
“Naturally,” Kalima said. “I’ve been midwifing for a long time now. It helps being a leader in a ragtag band of mercenary exiles.” She smirked.
“So if I may ask,” Grif said in a hushed tone, “how is everything looking tonight? Being a staunch supporter of the crown such as you are, I trust Luna has made you privy to tonight's announcement. Then again, I would be surprised if there was a noble not already aware.”
“It’s not particularly good, my friend.” Fancy Pants kept his voice low. “The opposition has something planned involving Luna’s proposal. I haven’t been able to find out what, but I fear it may be bad for us all.”
“Oh, I have a good idea,” Grif said, winking to a Pegasus server who walked by, masking the gesture with scooping up a pig in a blanket. “Are the loyalists prepared to move ahead with Luna?”
“I can say most of us are, yes, but a certain amount of lords and ladies seem unsure how to throw their support. I’m sure you’ve noticed the division within the room.”
A casual look around revealed that there was indeed an unusual division. Rather than the usual milling about typical in most galas, three distinct groupings had formed as Ponies steadily streamed to each with the occasional few that stood far off to the side, away from the tension that was clearly brewing. The loyalists stood closer to the Princesses, while those who were surely opposing the bill were grouped around Blue Blood, who was stationed near the giant Unicorn statue in front of a bank of windows. The last group, which was by far the largest, was milling about the floor near the food and wine tables or near the orchestra. Grif also noticed that once in awhile a Pony from the two camps would swoop in and try to talk to a noble or two in the group in hopes of splitting them off. Groups of more influential Ponies clustered together and approached the neutral parties, trying to either reason or pressure the neutrals into picking a side. As was typical of Blueblood and his ilk, the Thestrals remained untouched and unopposable.
“Thank you, Fancy Pants,” Grif said. “I hope you and your wife enjoy this evening.”
Grif pulled a nearby server behind a pillar. “Tell me about the neutral nobles.”
Meanwhile, Jet Set had set her eyes on one Unicorn in particular. She smiled as she bowed her head low upon being spotted by her target. “May I join you?” she asked in as ingratiating and sweet a tone as she could manage.
“Can I help you?” Clover asked in neither a pleased nor amused tone as she sloshed a glass of brandy nonchalantly.
“Well, I come bearing a question from a noble higher up.” She casually wondered how she had been reduced to a mere errand mare, even as she continued her inquiry. “Where do you plan on staying now that you have returned? Will you house with the Platinums, build your own tower, or perhaps stay somewhere here in Canterlot?” She smiled sincerely this time. “And what about your position as High Duchess of Canterlot? Do you plan to challenge Platinum for it?
“Well aren't you just the perfect example of the ideal Unicornian noble,” Clover said in a sickeningly sweet voice.
She shot a look over towards Blueblood. “No, I’m just a Unicorn trying to find her spot in a new world order.”
“So tell me, how closely related are you and your husband? Second cousins? First? Have to keep those bloodlines ‘pure’ after all.”
“Third cousins, actually. Father didn’t want the chance of another crazy brother as a grandchild. He got a lot of flack for that. Times are changing, and my only wish is to keep what’s left of my grandmother’s estate.” Clover could tell that Jet was being more honest now than ever before in her life. “Unfortunately, that means I have to play my cards right, or I could very well lose it all.”
“Well then, my lady, you won’t remember this, so I’ll put this simply. Nobles like you are a disease. You’re a cancer. Your very existence is harmful to the economy, to the people, and to the country. So many hard workers probably paid exorbitant taxes for that ugly dress you're wearing. And the worst part of it all is you all worship some fanciful image of Platinum that you dreamed up. Make no mistake, she was prissy when we were young, but near the end of her life she truly despised Unicorns like you.
“I’m not sure in what time of weakness you managed to repeal the laws about inbreeding that she passed before she died, but I will make it my life’s work to see they are put back in place.” Clover’s horn glowed as she signed with her hoof before pressing it to Jet Set’s flabbergasted face. “The name Clover the Clever has no meaning to you. You will, from this point on, seem to support your cohort, but when your faith truly becomes tested, you will waver and side with the crown. May you see what you truly are from this point on, and treat those you would mistreat properly. Now go and forget me.” There was a small azure spark as she removed her hoof.
“Uh … what?” Fell Jade paused. “My apologies, Ma’am. I–” She trailed off as she began to fall to the floor. A suave Minotaur charged in, catching her just in time.
“Are you alright?” he asked.
“Um … fine. Thank you,” Jet Set said awkwardly as the Minotaur placed her back on her hooves and she wandered away towards Blue Blood. Nobody noticed the little black spot on her neck beneath her mane.
Clover rolled her eyes as she held up her brandy in an invisible toast. “Here’s to you, Starswirl. You were right. Minotaur politics is always more fun.” She pulled her drink back in one gulp. “Better booze, too.”
Big Guns was having the time of his life. Who knew you could experience so much adrenaline from just pricking a few puny Ponies with some charcoal? It actually helped having so much bulk. It made it easier for him to “accidentally” knock a few Ponies over before offering to help them up. It grated his Minotaur side, but it was one of the best ways to get them without raising suspicion. That, and passing through a crowd while flailing his arms to avoid accidentally hitting anypony. Just a light brush, and they’d be marked. He couldn’t help but grin as he made his way over to Hammer Strike. There was no use sneaking up on a Pony like him.
“Fell Hammer!” he bellowed in greeting as he grinned. “Reginald has been waiting to meet you for quite some time.” He extended a meaty hand as the two made eye contact.
“Quite the cover.”
“It was Gryphon’s idea. He said I should say hello,” Big Guns said, even as he shook Hammer Strike’s hoof. Then he leaned in to whisper. “Grif’s Plan is going very smoothly. Big Guns hasn’t had this much fun since he blew up Everfree Forest with Demo Ponies.”
“If marking is the plan, then yes, you are doing quite well.”
“Yes, it is his plan. The marked Ponies are ‘dead’ Ponies.”
“And none of them know it yet,” Hammer Strike hummed. “Can’t wait to see what he does with this.”
“It will be fun. Will Hammer Strike help Big Guns?” he asked casually.
“Stealth is not something I do, especially since I’m trying to keep nobles away from me.”
He shrugged. “Point.”
“Oh, and if you bring that piece of chalk any closer to my coat, you will regret it later. Am I understood?”
“Is charcoal. Wouldn’t show on your coat anyways,” Big Guns snorted as he made his way back into the crowd.
“Oh, Hammer Strike,” Rarity called as she approached her betrothed. “What on earth are you doing all the way over here? I thought we were going to dance,” she said cheerfully.
“Oh, you know, bracing for the inevitable interaction with noble society.” He gave a soft sigh.
“Well, you could always threaten them with your sword there. What is its name by the way?” she asked as she took her accustomed place next to him.
“Demise.”
“But he’s so nice!”
“Nicest blade I ever made. Then again, it’s the only one I gave a bit of life to. The reason for the name is because it fits the sound and appearance of it. And since nobody can understand it but me...”
“Doesn’t that make him a little lonely?”
“He likes the solitude. Gives him time to ponder the wonders of reality.”
“Then why can’t he seem to take his eye off Seamripper?” she asked pointedly.
“Faciei tuae est acer...”
Hammer Strike opened his mouth for a moment before finally saying something. “I didn’t see that one coming… He’s, uh, hitting on Seamripper...”
Rarity giggled. “It seems he’s inherited his maker’s good taste.” And then she kissed him.
As the festivities, though the word seemed rather out of place considering how boring the room was, continued, the moon rose higher, and nobles continued to take their places amongst the various factions. It was about the only dancing really happening, truth be told. At last, Duchess Platinum stepped onto the orchestral platform. Her steel grey coat practically shimmered beneath the skylight as the moon’s rays shone down upon her. The simple pale white dress with silver trimming and a silver bow became practically luminous as she raised her glass and tapped it delicately with a silver horseshoe.
“Attention, everypony. May I have your attention, please? Attention, please.” She tapped the microphone a few times. “Is this thing on?”
A nervous chuckle ran through the room.
“Ladies and gentlecolts, truly this has been a very wild two years. From ancient heroes stepping out of time to the reconstruction of our nation’s first capital to the ascension and coronation of Princess Twilight and her wonderful friends. The miracles never cease. And now, tonight, we have been graced by yet another miracle, the return of one of Equestria’s most revered founders, an ancient friend to my ancestor, and I hope one day to me, Clover the Clever.”
The applause was a hodgepodge of legitimate hoof stomps and some few half-hearted cheers.
“Clover, if you would please do me the honor of joining me on the stage?” Platinum asked.
Clover could have teleported, but instead made a slow measured march to the stage.
“When you left us over a thousand years ago, my family wept. They had thought you forever lost to the land of the living. The princesses also mourned, as did Star Swirl. Without you or any heirs to govern the capital as Archduchess, that mantle fell upon my family and their line.” She took a deep breath. “Unity may no longer be the capital, but the title is still yours by right. Therefore, as my last act as the Archduchess of Canterlot, I step down as head of the court of nobles and return that honor and title where it has always belonged.” She bowed. “Hail, Clover the Clever, Archduchess of Canterlot.”
Clover smiled kindly and raised Platinum from her repose, placing a hoof on her shoulder. “I thank you for your gracious offer, Lady Platinum, but I must insist you and yours steward my title for a little longer still. I cannot truly do the position justice until I am once again familiar with the laws of the land, and I also believe there is a distinct lack of sufficient combat training amongst the mage classes of Equestria's forces, such that they are. Until I have rectified these issues, I cannot retake my mantle. As such, I now do with you as was done with your ancestor. Lady Platinum of the line of Princess Platinum, will you continue to uphold the mantle of Archduchess until such time as I can properly resume my duties?”
Platinum looked genuinely stunned, as did most of the other nobles, though she quickly recovered. “O–of course, Clover. If that’s what you wish.”
Clover patted her gently on the shoulder. “It is. Now I think we’ve held up this evening enough.” Clover nodded to the orchestra, which began to play again as she left the stage.
Vital Spark shuffled his hooves nervously as she descended the stairs and back into the crowd. “Clover, can we talk?”
“Seeing as you just did, I suppose we can indeed, Vital Spark,” she said.
“Please don’t, Clover. This is serious,” he said, his face downcast. “There’s something I forgot to tell you, and you deserve to know.”
Clover’s expression grew somber. “Lead the way.”
Once they’d found a proper antechamber, Vital Spark closed the door behind them. “It’s about Starswirl.”
“I’m listening.”
“When we were visiting the Crystal Empire, I was able to bypass his security measures and enter his lab.” Clover made the motion to go on, so he did. “When I got there, I was able to, well, sort of meet him.”
“An astral projection pre-programmed with anticipated responses to questions and containing vital information. Yes, that sounds like him.”
“Well, I mentioned you to him, and that’s when he sort of changed. He sounded really worried and sad. I told the projection you were all right, and it was relieved to hear it. Afterwards, it asked me to tell you something, and I totally forgot about it until now because of all the crazy adventures we had traveling through that mirror to another world to get Twilight’s crown back. So first, I wanted to say I’m sorry for that, and secondly, he wanted me to tell you he’s sorry, too. When I asked him what for, he told me you’d know.”
“He said that?” Clover seemed stunned.
“Yeah. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I think it was really important to him to let you know. And by the sound of things, it was pretty important to you, too.”
“You couldn’t understand.” She sighed. “There is just too much.”
“I don’t expect to understand. I just want to help make people feel better.” He reached over and hugged her. “And for what it’s worth, you’re a great teacher.”
She chuckled dryly. “Thank you, Vital Spark. It’s not a position I am entirely knowledgeable in.” She pondered for a few minutes, then spoke again. “I’m not nobility, you know. Honestly, there was no indication I would even be skilled in magic. Going from a pity case to a valued resource is the weirdest thing in my life right now.”
“You made direct contact with the element of magic, something only three ponies in the entire history of this world have ever been known to do properly, and they’re all in this castle. I’m pretty sure you were valued a long time before you thought you were.”
“And before that? Have you read about the ‘grand origins’ of Clover the Clever?” she asked.
“Can’t say that I have. I’m guessing you’re going to say something along the lines of you were an orphan and–”
“Starswirl killed my parents,” she said bluntly.
Vital’s head whipped back to Clover. “Say what now?”
“Inquisition against dark mages in the defence of Equis. Both my parents were heavy practitioners of the dark arts, and both were highly dangerous dark mages. I was four, maybe five when Starswirl found us. He attempted to arrest them, they resisted, and he did his duty to the crown.”
“I’m … not exactly sure what to say to that. What happened after? Were you angry? Were you sad? How did you feel?”
“I suppose I was ... how do you really process that as a five year old?” she asked. “I was scared with all the new ponies around. I wanted my parents. I wanted to know why the big mean pony who hurt my mother was giving me a bed and bringing me food. You can guess how many answers I got.” She shrugged. “Starswirl looked after me for a few years. He wasn’t exactly good at it, but he did what he could for me. I had food, a warm bed, education. It wasn’t until I showed promise with magic that he took me in as his student, and for most of those years, I was pretty alone, either being considered a charity case or a pariah. I gave Platnium a bloody nose the day I met her for calling me a simpleton.”
“Knowing you and my guess at her personality, mind you, I’m basing this mainly off Rarity, I’m guessing that became more a term of endearment by the end of your time together.”
“Platinum could be a nag. She was stuck up, self centered at times, completely incapable of seeing how something could go wrong, but she loved Ponies. One night on our infamous journey to what became Equestria, we stopped at a tavern for the night, and she ended up giving both our suppers to a trio of orphans living in the kitchen.”
“A trio of orphans, you say? Was one a Pegasus, one a Unicorn, and one an Earth Pony?”
“I’m afraid to ask how you knew that.”
“And they were kept on because they kept having to work off debt for breaking things or otherwise getting into trouble?”
“Okay, now you are being creepy, Vital Spark.”
“Remind me to introduce you to the Cutie Mark Crusaders sometime. You might be surprised.”
Clover coughed uncomfortably. “Anyway, we should head back before the Gryphon delegates eat all the roast pork,” Clover said, getting to her hooves.
“You eat meat?”
She used magic to pull back her lips, showing small, but present, canines a little further back in her mouth. “Contrary to popular opinion, certain proteins used to build and maintain a healthy brain can only be absorbed by digesting meat. It was a lesson Starswirl never let me forget.”
Vital couldn’t help but grin in a manner that was startlingly like Pinkie Pie. “Then let’s get on back. It’s going to be fun seeing how much you unnerve the nobles.”
“If you keep up with this apprentice business, we’ll have to work on getting you your own set of canines.” She laughed as they headed back to the ball room. “Come along, Vital Spark, the Virtuous.”
“Oh no you didn’t.” Vital Spark broke down in a fit of laughter.
“In grand tradition, my master named me, and so I’ve named you.” She winked before entering the ballroom proper.
Vital Spark sighed. “Vital the Virtuous, huh? That’s a big set of horseshoes to fill.” Then he followed his teacher into the ballroom and the intrigue that doubtless awaited them all.
The gala was already in full swing in the ballroom when the sound of armor and heavy boots was heard. From the entrance two long lines of crystal guards entered in perfect forced march carrying spears. They formed a narrow aisle as, much to the blushing of one Twilight Sparkle, a familiar yellow-furred blue-maned guardpony walked to the front.
Flash Sentry cleared his throat as flugelhorns were played by the rearmost guards.
“Announcing her Imperial Majesty, Queen of the Crystal Empire, and Princess of Equestria, Patron of Love, Queen Mi Amore Cadenza, accompanied by her consort, the Grand General of the Crystal Army, King Shining Armor.”
Cadence and Shining Armor entered the hall in a nervous fashion from the heavily formal entrance. Flash cleared his throat to speak again, but before he could, two small blurs shot through the door past the guards and split in two directions, one for Pensword, and the other for Hammer Strike as a small set of legs proceeded to wrap around each figure respectively.
“Hello young one,” Hammer Strike commented. “How are you, Alto?”
“Hammer Strike! Look what I did!” She held up a piece of wrapped cloth proudly after letting him go. When hammerstrike unwrapped it, he discovered a very crudely made dagger. It was tiny, barely the size of a butter knife, and dented, but he was surprised to find a rough, but sharp edge to it, and it seemed sturdy.
“Not bad. How many things did you make up to this one?”
“Forty,” she said somewhat self-consciously.
“You’re improving. That’s the best part about it.”
The words of praise brought a smile that could light up a room, and Hammer Strike found he was quite pleased with that reaction.
“Uncle Pensword!” Bellacosa cheered as he clung to the stallion’s forelegs. “I missed you.”
Pensword took note of the slight looks of shock and disdain from the nobles that were near him. He grinned. “And how is my little war prince doing?” he asked and he bent down and laid his neck on Bellacosa’s own. “Are you practicing your tactics?” He asked before slowly pulling away from the hug. “And what is new with you?”
“Well, I’ve been writing a lot of letters to Daedalus, and I had to arrange for all the funeral expenses and payments to the families after we got back. After that, Cady said we needed to celebrate ‘cause my cutie mark came, so we had something called a cutemitzvah. Then, uh … well, Cady kinda grounded me for putting my life in danger.” He blushed.
“Well that’s alright,” Pensword said consolingly. “Celestia and Luna grounded me after I went off on a few raids during the war as well. I had to stay in one spot to lead a war, and never go on the front lines.” He leaned in and whispered conspiratorially. “Also, congrats on the cutemizvah. Sorry I couldn’t get out to there, but I think having you in a war was my gift to you.”
Cosy frowned. “Uncle, I know it’s important to know you can hold your own in a fight, but how is war ever a gift?”
“You now have the ear of the Gryphon Emperor. You made friends with him, and you have put your mark into their history. Your bloodline will be able to open up the trade and heal the wounds that my blood opened.” He frowned. “We also come from a different time. A Stallion wasn’t really a stallion unless he knew how to use a blade or arrow.” He casually looked around the room. “It is nice that we have peace.” He ruffled Cosy’s mane. “There was a lot of good that came out of that war. Besides, you never would have met that one person if we hadn’t been there in the first place.”
“Which person?” Cosy asked, cocking his head in confusion.
Pensword paused before smiling. He took a peach and tossed it to Cosy, pointing meaningfully at it before grabbing another and eating it with relish. “Not as nice as the ones on that island we stopped by, but they are passable,” he said with a wink.
Cosy’s eyes widened as he finally made the connection and nodded. “Oh, so that’s who you meant!”
“Eeyup!” Pensword grinned, then skillfully scooped out the pit with a wing before swallowing the rest of the fruit whole. They both laughed as they recounted more recent events while the nobles fumed, unable to talk to the Crystal Prince.
Grif moved slowly through the meat buffet table that had been placed apart from the others on the far west side of the room, browsing carefully through what was there, and ignoring the several pairs of Gryphon eyes attempting to bore holes into his back. Naturally, they were all easily repelled by Rarity’s ingenious coat. He was so focused on not acknowledging them that he didn’t notice as he nearly balled over a familiar blue gryphoness.
“Oh, sorry, Ma–Genevieve?” he asked, startled.
“Grif!” Genevieve immediately pounced him and caught him in a rough embrace. “Thank you so much for saving Daedalus.”
“Well, I couldn’t let him die when he was barely into his second decade now, could I?” Grif laughed. “Though I will admit it didn’t help that he is quite close to a rather beautiful Gryphoness I happen to know.”
“You do realize I still won’t go easy on you or any other teammates from Equestria, right?” she asked before boldy seizing a lingering kiss. Then she sighed in contentment. “Winds, that felt good.”
“You’d insult me if you did,” Grif told her with a smooth smile of his own. “I missed you, too.”
“Say, Daedalus tells me you got hitched while you were in the empire. Those two wives wouldn’t happen to be somewhere around here, would they?” She gasped. “Oh, and Daedalus asked me to give you this. It’s an official pardon for any and all crimes committed against the crown. You might find something else you like in there, too.”
“They are, in fact. Shrial is over at that table. The Gryphoness standing next to her is Kalima, my adopted mother,” he said, pointing to the dining area. “And Avalon is about speaking with some friend of her father’s, I believe.” Grif opened the envelope and slid out the contents into his palm. He stared for a long time, and much to the surprise of those judgemental Gryphons present, tears began to form in his eyes as he looked down on the image of Daedalus hard at work with another stone mason to carve a sarcophagus. The stern, implacable visage of Kel’leam stared up at the ceiling of the well-lit room with full armor blazoned, his shield on one arm, his spear in the other, perfectly rendered in stone. “Thank you,” Grif rasped, then cleared his throat. “You don’t know what this means to me, and some friends of mine.”
“He will be remembered well for all that he’s done. Kel’leam’s name will never die.” She placed a gentle hand over his, her engagement band glinting in the torch light.
“So then, how many of those behind us want my feathers plucked and my crest shaved off? Daedalus sent an entirely new dispatch, and I can’t gauge who’s who,” Grif said, stowing the papers and gesturing slightly to the delegates behind them.
“Difficult to say. Daedalus had to start off from scratch, but to nurse their egos after he dissolved the old cabinet, he had to add a few of their members to the delegation party instead, so they wouldn’t lose face. I’d say probably about half the party hates you. The others are either neutral or supporters. I think one of them may be familiar to you, actually.”
“Well at least that's something. So how is Daedalus? Have they manged to reseat him at Gryphilhiem, or is he still within the western forts?”
“He’s keeping to the forts for now under a tight guard until things can settle down more fully, but things seem to be pretty calm for him right now. With the people at his back, most of the usual dissenters were suddenly found mounted on pikes, among other things. I hear a third of the Gryphons involved in the plot were rounded up by the end of the first week. The others are fleeing Gryphonia as fast as they can, and by any means necessary.”
“Well I hope they find their safety somewhere else. They’ll find Equestria more hostile than they imagined. I’ve made many friends here, you know.” Grif smiled at her. “And I have no issue sending a few heads back to Daedalus.”
“I’m sure he’d appreciate them. Though I’m not sure they’d fare much better in Zebrica or the Stampede Grounds. I hear they’re just as hostile as ever after the war. I wouldn’t be surprised if Daedalus offered a bounty just to sweeten the deal.”
“So you’re heading back to training in the morning?” Grif asked. “Or are you staying for a few days?”
“I’m staying a few days. Coach decided to give us all a week off to enjoy the gala, and to allow us some time to mingle before we work off.” She grinned. “The training’s going to be brutal.”
“I’m sure I can find a good reason to spend a few days. Maybe we could have a chance to have dinner, so you can meet everyone in more personal quarters. Or, unless you're entirely stuck in Canterlot, perhaps you’d come back to Unity with me? I could show you the compound that will be your home.”
“I think I can get away for a few days. Call it reconnaissance on the new meat in the meet.” She grinned. “Of course, that will mean you finally get to see a little more of my prowess on the field. And that dinner sounds wonderful. I’m sure the girls are as anxious to know me as I am to know them.”
“I look forward to it.” Grif sighed. “Unfortunately, duty calls,” he said as he locked eyes with Luna in the distance. The princess was gesturing towards a side room door. “I’ll speak with you later, okay?”
“Just don’t go starting any nation-shattering events till after the Equestrian Games, okay?”
Grif laughed as he walked away “Oh, if only you knew,” he mumbled under his breath as he left the room.
Pensword stood at the meat table as he manipulated his wings to pick up some food. He couldn’t stop smiling. So far he had managed to convince a good ten nobles from the neutral party to come over to their side, with a little help from Fancy Pants. He turned around and grinned, exposing his fangs as he stepped aside for a Flight Commander. As a matter of professional courtesy, he gave a curt nod of acknowledgment to the Gryphon delegates standing behind him. “So, fresh from the lands. How was the flight over?” His voice remained flat and unemotional.
“Calmer than we were expecting,” the delegate answered in a semi-polite tone. “Though Celestia's refusal to allow us to find criminal coup supporters is making security difficult.”
Pensword gave the Grpyhon a single arched brow. “So you do not believe that my own troops, or those of the Bladefeathers, or High Chieftess Luna’s own could root out these supporters? How little do you view our own security?”
“Equestria is a wide country,” the Gryphon pointed out. “And you have other nations to the north and the south. It would be very easy for a criminal to disappear for a few weeks and resurface when things calm down to get their revenge.”
Pensword outright laughed in the Gryphon's beak. “We have High Chieftess Luna and our Dream Walkers, and we have the Bladefeathers. I assure you, any who are loyalists to that despotic king will not last three days in these lands.”
“I do appreciate your assurance, Commander, but please understand. Should you be in Gryphonia, surrounded by Gryphons, and some dangerous Pony criminals should be hiding within, I trust you would likewise be ill at ease.”
Pensword gave him a flat expression. “You used my rank, but I think you do not know what it means, and what I can do. I faced Gryphons with more training than you ever had, and I killed them. I hung the Commandant of Fort Triumph from his own gallows. I lived through the Third Gryphon War. If I could not handle one lowlife criminal in another nation, as you put it, then I am a poor commander indeed. Also, I would be baffled at the security of the host nation I was visiting. You serve at the honor of Daedalus. That means that it would be a black mark on all who live and breathe in the security of this nation should we fail to protect you.”
“There is no need to get so defensive. I meant no offense. I was only trying to explain my position as I am,” the Gryphon said.
“And I was hoping you would show more trust in our nation, as I put my trust in Deadalus when I escorted War Prince Bellacosa to meet him.” He chuckled, shaking his head. “At least you did not demand my head when I took my rightful place.”
“Please forgive my husband,” a voice suddenly spoke up as Pensword felt his ear clipped by Lunar Fang’s wing. “Tonight is very stressful on him, and he’s forgotten his diplomacy.” She then proceeded to give Pensword the evil eye.
“If you would excuse me, I think I see Baron Feather over at the ice sculpture. I think I can talk him into some form of support.” He smiled, nodded his head to the both of them, and left the small gathering. “May your time here be fulfilling,” he said over his shoulder. It was difficult to be friendly, but at least he was improving.
“Lord Hammer Strike.” A bland yellow Unicorn that Hammer Strike had not seen yet this night walked up to him quite suddenly. “I have a message for you.”
“From whom?”
“They did not say, only that they must speak with you urgently in the inner gallery.”
Hammer Strike sighed. “Delightful. I’ll head over.”
Hammerstrike found the inner gallery completely empty and darkened. It was far enough away that he could barely make out the gala music from the main ballroom. He sighed to himself as he slowly began a countdown in his head.
He heard hoofsteps as someone approached him from behind. Just as whoever was behind him went to strike, he sidestepped and grabbed the assassin’s hoof, causing the dagger to fall to the ground. He pulled the Pony forward in time to be impaled by two perpendicular crossbow bolts that were meant for him before tossing the body away as it let out a death gurgle. Grabbing the dagger, he tossed it where the bolts had come from, and was gratified by a loud meaty thump. He waited a moment longer. When nothing happened, he knew it had only been the two assailants.
“I wonder who sent them this time around,” Hammer murmured to himself as he shifted the nearest corpse. “And I wonder if they were stupid enough to leave evidence.”
He found a copy of the contract in question, but the name wasn’t one he recognized.
“What do you know? Smarter than Promethean at least.” He sighed. “Great. Now I’ve got to hunt them down, rather than the simple way. Now the question is, what kind of group is NOOB supposed to be?” He pondered as he exited the gallery and began to make his way back to the ballroom.
As Hammer Strike returned to the festivities, a Thestral walked up to him and immediately began a conversation. “Milord,” he spoke with a cheeky smile to show it had been a jest. “I was wondering, when will you be opening up commissions? An officer corp needs fine weapons, and I am willing to commission you for all the high ranking officers of the Dragon Clan. I hope to be the first of what I am sure will be many who come seeking one of your famous blades.”
“Technically, I am always open for commissions. It mostly depends on the individual asking. If possible, in the near future, bring those who need and want the weapons to New Unity. Then I can get to work on it.”
“I will keep that in mind.” He paused. “Are the legends true? Can you judge a Pony’s ideal weapon just by looking at him?”
“Weapon preference is the tricky part, but you can figure a lot out just by stance alone. An example would be with you. A trident seems like something that works well by your structure and stance.”
“I hadn’t thought of that, but if that’s how you feel, then I’ll come see you in a few days to get a trident.”
“I’ll let you use one of my training ones to judge for yourself.”
“Thank you, Hammer Strike.” His eyes widened as he realized he had yet to introduce himself to the smith. “My apologies. I am Scale Wing. It is an honor to meet you in the flesh.”
“A pleasure, Scale. Now, I hate to be off so fast, but I’m afraid I left someone of importance alone.”
“Of course. I shall see you later. In two days time?” he asked with a smile and nod of his head.
“That sounds fine.” Hammer Strike nodded as he made his way across the room to Rarity, who was sitting off to the side.
“Oh, there you are, darling. I was starting to get worried.” She rose and levitated a handkerchief, which she used to daub some blood off of Hammer Strike’s coat. “There we go. The usual assassins, I take it?”
“Only two this time. I’m somewhat disappointed.”
“You really do enjoy these things, don’t you?”
“They are certainly the highlights of the gala.”
“Sorry to take you away from the gala, ladies,” Grif said as he looked around to Luna, Cadence, and Twilight. “But I think some details have come up tonight that would be better for you to know before Luna moves forwards with her plans”
“What hast the Mighty Winds found this time?” Luna asked with a stoic expression.
“I’ve managed to uncover a few things. First off, Baron Blueblood has been forming alliances ever since word of Luna's bill has begun circulating. I think he’s planning to use it to his advantage.”
“Is there some way militarizing Equestria would be advantageous to the nobles?” cadence asked Twilight.
“In olden times, each noble house was given their own personal set of troops to protect their home, valuables, persons, etc. The only time command of those miniature armies was ever given up was in a time of national crisis. Nobles made and broke alliances almost as much as they lied to, stole from, or cheated their subjects. They probably want to be able to throw that kind of weight around again. The nobles can’t hurt anypony right now, since they don’t have any troops to guard themselves, but that can change if they’re given the authority to wield their own soldiers.” Twilight sighed.
“I thought as much.” Grif nodded “I’ve set things in motion for a demonstration that might hopefully demand the unity of a national army over a hundred smaller ones. I’ve also done my best to limit the amount of trained Gryphon mercenaries they can get to train their troops, but I have a feeling that's not going to be enough. Still, we have other issues.”
“Which are?” Luna asked. A small twitch in the corner of her mouth was the only indication of an already scheming mind.
“While the opposition's support base is smaller than I’d feared, it would appear the loyalists are also smaller than we’d hoped,” Grif noted. “Even if tonight gets us some support, this is going to be an uphill battle.”
“What can there be between the loyalists and the opposition?” Twilight asked.
“For starters, we have the bankers and economists. The bankers fear Equestria will require more money than the treasury has to fund the project, and therefore they will have to loan from other nations, and decrease the value of the bit. The economists worry the military will drain the trade resources,” Grif explained.
“And if we can prove otherwise?” Twilight asked.
“I imagine if we can prove that a military can bring in new possible means of trade and value, it would calm some minds.” Grif nodded. “The harder ones will be the older noble houses more … devoted to their faith. You’ve heard of the radicalists who want to remove Sleipnir from the pantheon? They believe a military would bring a rise in Sleipnir popularity amongst the people, and thus weaken their chance to ‘educate the unenlightened.’” He sighed “The thing is, we can’t exactly have the crown supporting the downfall of a deity. That would only make things harder.”
“So? My Ponies see me as the living embodiment of the moon, the warrior goddess,” Luna responded. “I prefered Sleipnir over Faust, myself. However, thou must let them choose their own path. Just because the military will view him with higher favor does not mean they will not call on Faust either.” She sighed. “No matter what happens, the Thestrals will modernize. They will become the military, and they will clamor for Pensword to lead them with me guiding him.”
“Yes. Well, it’s still going to make things difficult. The rest, however, are somewhat easy to counter. More nobles representing parental groups worried that soldiers will send foals the wrong image about violence and such. I’ve already had my agents begin work on campaigns, and setting up ‘military based’ support programs for anti-bullying and the like. Still, if everything goes right, we might leave here tonight with twenty percent of the necessary vote, and you’ve seen enough war to know how often that happens, Luna.”
“I could win battles with just twenty percent. I feel we can win here.”
“Forewarned is forearmed, Princess,” Grif noted. “Why did you three authorize my little project if not to make use of the intelligence we gather? Still, please, when Blueblood interrupts you, act frightened, surprised, even betrayed. Let him think he has you in checkmate, and I promise you I will be your hidden knight.”
“Why?” Luna answered with a smile as she produced a goblet of wine from thin air. “I have two knights. Pensword plans to confront Blueblood when he interrupts my speech. I give it ten bits it is within the first paragraph of the proposal, and I already plan to act offended and frightened. After all, nopony dares to interrupt a princess, and I still have a little of my more timid facade to uphold. However, he is growing bolder. From his slight against Princess Twilight at her coronation to his little club. He is beginning to press beyond his boundaries. And just to clarify, it is Baron Blueblood, not Prince Blueblood, who shall interrupt here. He intends to show who really holds the reins tonight.”
“Princess Luna,” Grif chuckled, “Prince Blueblood is, as we speak, enjoying himself on his yacht somewhere over the southern desert with cool prevailing winds and his latest mistress, despite what the guest list tells you. He never stepped foot in this palace tonight.” Grif winked.
“You may seem gruff and upfront, Grif,” Cadence noted, “but you make a scary spy master.”
Grif only chuckled.
“Wouldst thou reconsider and become my official spymaster of all Equestria?” Luna asked teasingly.
“Princess, if you add a title to it, people will know what I’m doing,” Grif said. “Besides, I need to be unanswerable at points, and you all need plausible deniability.”
“I still feel like leaving Princess Celestia out of this is wrong,” Twilight murmured.
“In due time, my friend. Always in due time. Now, actors, to your places. The curtain rises at midnight,” Grif said, pulling out his watch and tapping it.
“Then that gives you time to compile a list of Ponies I can choose as scapegoats for spymaster. They’ll be like your puppet. I’ll give him or her a desk, and some important paperwork, and a nice paycheck, and that Pony won’t say a word,” Luna said as she downed the rest of her wine in a single gulp before walking towards the exit.
“With all due respect, Princess, why don’t you talk to your chamberlain? You may find I already have the strings in place.” Without another word, Grif slipped away. As the three princesses followed, no one noticed the glint of gold in the evening moonlight behind one of the nearby pillars.
Luna grinned happily as she left with Cadence and Twilight, happy for what Grif was doing. She was going to once again be the Princess who worked from the shadows of the night. And this time she had more then herself to protect ponies from the evils of the dark.
Fox Feather shivered as she found herself alone, something she really wasn’t used to. Worry clawed at her. This was her first noble gathering, and she was here as a guest, not as protection. The only other time she’d been to something like this was during a military ball, and that wasn’t anywhere near this stressful. This was the biggest noble gathering in all of Equestria! She felt small. So much had changed in a thousand years, and she hardly got to see it because she’d been staying with the rest of the unit at New Unity. She managed to maintain her neutral facade, but she still hoped that no one would target her about this bill, let alone try an open discussion.
“Oh, my friend. You look so alone, so lost. Tell me, what is bothering you?” a voice spoke approaching from behind her.
She turned in surprise. “Lady De Lis, I, well… that is, I am….” She folded her ears. “I feel a little out of my depth at the moment.”
“You may not believe this, but I completely understand.”
“You do? I do not believe you,” Fox Feather responded. “You have the air of a noble. You must be perfectly at ease at a gathering like this.”
“I wasn’t born into the life I lead, my friend. Believe it or not, I used to be a combatant myself.”
“You were?” she asked in shock. “Care to talk about it? I think I see a small table in the alcove to sit at.”
As the pair made their way to said table, Fleur began her tale. “I originally was a member of the royal guard. I may not look like guard material, but you’d be surprised how powerful those glamour spells are,” she began as they made their way to the table.
“I–I am impressed. You have the coat for it,” Fox Feather replied. “Does that mean Fancy Pants started as a guard assignment?”
Fleur laughed loudly. “Oh, by Luna, no. He started in politics at a young age. No, he has never been a member of the royal guard.”
“But did you ever get assigned to guard him? What took you out of the guards?”
“Tres bien, my friend. Very clever. Yes, I was indeed assigned to guard him. Fancy Pants was already making enemies at that time with his ideals, and at one point there was an attempt on his life. I was assigned as his bodyguard, and originally I’d preferred to keep things strictly business, as the saying goes. But fancy pants, he would not have that. If he was to have a bodyguard, then he would at least have a bodyguard who was a friend.”
“What happened next?” Fox Feather asked as the pair took their seats. “This sounds like a military fairy tale.”
“I kept my glamour on for over a year, despite his many protests about having such an obvious guard. Honestly the first time I took it off, the shock on his face was incredible,” she laughed.
“Oh? Why was it so shocking?”
“In my armor, I looked like most female guards do, a full foot shorter,” she said with a smile.
“Oh … oh wow. I bet that was a surprise. So what happened next? How did you view him? Did you ever see him as the untouchable stallion standing on a pedestal?”
“Sadly, our relationship was much more the opposite. He was the pursuer, and I was the untouchable one.” She laughed.
Fox Feather gave her a confused look.
“I was a career mare,” Fleur explained. “I was so focused on my future that I couldn’t see what was right in front of my muzzle.”
“In this case, a handsome stallion who loved you?” Fox Feather guessed.
“Yes,” she nodded. Turning her neck to Fox Feather, her horn lit up, and a small patch of fur suddenly vanished, revealing a long jagged scar running from the edge of her mouth to her shoulder. “I nearly didn’t get the chance to see it.”
Fox Feather did not flinch at all. “I am happy that Faust gave you that chance you needed.”
Fleur nodded sadly as her horn glowed and the fur seemingly returned. “I was forced into early retirement. When I got the announcement, I found my blood running cold, not because of my career being halted like I’d thought, but because I was scared I would not see Fancy again.”
“I am guessing you did get to see him again?” Fox Feather replied, grinning widely.
“He came to my bed every day. He only left my side when the orderlies forced him out.” She smiled as a tear ran down her cheek. “We were married exactly one year after I got out of the hospital. It took me far longer to adjust to the nobility I am now a part of, but I would do anything for him.”
“As any mare should for their stallion,” Fox Feather responded.
“And if I can do it for mine, then I am sure that you can do it for yours,” Fleur said as she laid a supporting hoof on Fox Feather’s back.
“Thank you,” Fox Feather said with the beginnings of a smile.
“Any time, darling. Any time.”
Vital Spark smiled pleasantly as he watched the proceedings. Dancing was never his strong suit, and as he had learned only too painfully back at the Crystal Empire, it was best to stay off to the side whenever possible. So he casually sipped his punch and levitated an h'orderve to his face to eat. This one appeared to be a grainy cracker with a dollop of a creamy substance that looked suspiciously like hummus. Tasting it confirmed his suspicions, and he gratefully partook of more, though was careful not to take too many at once.
“So you are the … Pony that clover the clever took for her apprentice,” a voice said skeptically.
Vital Spark turned to face the Pony in question. A large, poofy, curly purple mane that put Twilight’s first fashion disaster to shame nearly swallowed him whole. The mare had bright red eye shadow and extra long lashes, but her rouge was applied so heavily that it turned her face white. He stepped back, aghast, only to bump into her twin. “Um … sorry,” he said. “You startled me.”
“We are Himiko and Nanoha,” the Earth Pony mare said. “I must say, it is surprising to think Clover took you as her apprentice. Do you come from an important family?”
“Not exactly,” Vital said nervously. “I guess you nobles would probably consider me a bit of a charity case. Lord Hammer Strike has been taking care of me after Discord pulled me from my home. Until we can make arrangements for me to return, I will be staying with him at New Unity. He was gracious enough to invite me to tonight’s events. Forgive me for asking, but do I detect a Far Eastern accent?”
“A bit,” a third voice grated almost defensively as a shorter, portly Unicorn stallion approached between the two mares. His garb was smooth and black as his mane. His coat was a charcoal grey with a white underbelly, and streaks of yellow covered his muzzle as he raised his hooves onto either mare’s flanks. A penguin holding an open umbrella over its head stood boldly next to his coat tails on his flank.
Vital Spark stared at the three. An eerie sense of foreboding washed over him as took in their collective visages. He barely held back the shudder that wanted to run through his body. “Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean any offense. My first violin teacher was actually from the Far East. If it weren’t for her, I probably wouldn’t have the dedication and self discipline I’ve developed today.”
“So if you are not from a noble family, then you must have some amazing magical talent?” one of the twins asked.
“I … guess? The truth is, I never received any training before I met Clover. My family … doesn’t really use magic, at least not of that nature.”
“Strange. The most magically gifted Unicorn alive takes you as her student. Isn’t it strange, Nanoha?”
“Very strange,” Himiko replied. Their eyebrows raised with disturbing synchronization.
“Well, she’s actually teaching all the Unicorns at New Unity. I just enrolled in her class. I wasn’t expecting to become her apprentice.” ‘In fact, I only just learned it tonight,’ he thought to himself.
“That's very odd. I mean, Princess Twilight had to show a great feat of magical strength before Celestia took her on as her student.”
Vital shrugged. “Clover isn’t Celestia.”
“True, but it’s still very unusual,” the other mare said.
“I don’t see how. Doesn’t Clover have the right to choose who she will? By the way, I hope you’ll forgive my bluntness, but I don’t think we’ve been formally introduced, Lord … Count … I’m sorry, what rank are you?”
“Count Cobble Pot,” the Pony said bluntly. His eyes glinted with cold calculation as he sized Vital Spark up. “I’m a … I suppose you could call me a tinkerer by trade.” He snickered to himself with a cynical smile.
“A pleasure to meet you, Count.” Vital bowed. “I would never have dreamed of being noticed, let alone addressed by three nobles.”
“Then you probably shouldn’t have entered with the ones you did,” Cobble Pot countered.
“You do have a point.” Vital Spark chuckled nervously. “I’m curious, why do you think she picked me? You’re a noble Unicorn that’s been well trained in magic, right? Do you have any ideas?”
“Who knows?” Cobble Pot shrugged. “It’s all very suspicious, though.”
“What? Are you saying I shouldn’t trust my teacher?”
“I’m merely saying it’s suspicious, that’s all.”
“I’m sorry to say I don’t see how.” The Unicorn shrugged. “If I were looking for suspicious behavior, I’d probably be looking at a big jewelry store that’s been robbed recently, and the list of customers that have been so carefully looking at the merchandise. Then I’d look for the ones that promised to pay top bit as the most precious items were brought out to view before they insulted the manager and left the previous day.”
“Maybe,” Cobble Pot said. His eye twitched and his jaw tensed. Without another word, he and his cohorts did an about face and left.
“Was it something I said?” Vital Spark asked, cocking his head in confusion.
“Hammer Strike, darling, Luna is going to be presenting her bill proposal soon, isn’t she?” Rarity asked as she laid her head lovingly on his shoulder. Her face was scrunched up in deep thought, much like when she was conceptualizing a new design. He knew that look well.
“I believe so, yes.”
Rarity sighed. “You know, part of me wishes tonight wouldn’t end, but the other part of me is already picturing how we can deck this room out for the reception. A few streamers up there, tapestries lining either side, one for your house and one for mine. And then a pair right next to each other on either end. And that’s just for starters.” Her eyes had gone wide and sparkly as she once again took in the dimensions of the room.
“Enjoying the ability to go all out on this?”
“Darling, I have yet begun to design.” She frowned. “But I want you to be comfortable, too. You don’t like all the flare and flash, do you? What were you imagining for the wedding?”
“I’m not sure, honestly. I don’t mind added flash and flare if you wanted it. It’s our wedding, after all. We only get to do this once.”
“That may be true, darling, but I want you to be comfortable. Not minding and comfort are two separate things entirely.” Suddenly her eyes lit up. “Of course! We can do a warrior style theme. Anvils, armor, swords, helmets, bows and arrows, a forge! That way you can feel right at home, and we can both have fun.” She smirked. “Especially if we get the chance to do a little sword play,” she said, winking flirtatiously.
“That sounds like a great idea,” Hammer Strike smiled before bowing his head down to kiss her on the forehead. Rarity immediately proceeded to blush and giggle like a little girl.
“Forgive me, my dear,” a familiar voice spoke up, “but did I hear that wedding preparations are being made?”
Rarity’s mane frizzled briefly before returning to its normal position. “Fancy Pants! I … that is, we didn’t know that you were–We were just…. Ohhh, I suppose the cat’s out of the bag now, isn’t it?”
Fancy Pants smiled “If you want it kept quiet, I won’t tell a soul, my dear lady. Congratulations.” He took her hoof and shook it gently. “And you as well, Hammer Strike. I hope you’re both very happy.” He offered his hoof to Hammer Strike.
“We are.” Hammer Strike grinned as he shook Fancy Pants’ hoof. “And now that I think about it, you have ways of spreading information, don’t you?”
“Well, yes, of course,” Fancy Pants said. “But sometimes, as they say, the old ways are the best,” he noted, levitating three glasses of champagne over. “With your permission, of course.”
Rarity looked at Hammer Strike, and they both nodded. “Just a moment, Fancy Pants. There’s one last thing I need to do.” She pulled out an intricately carved wooden box and opened it, then removed her ring from her horn before replacing it with the gold, jewel-encrusted band hammer Strike had forged for her so many centuries ago. “If we’re going to announce the engagement, a girl should be wearing her engagement ring.” She smiled, taking her glass and nodding her assent to continue.
“My lords and ladies,” Fancy Pants spoke. His voice boomed over the ballroom as his horn glowed to amplify it. There was little need, as every head in the room immediately turned to face him. The popularity and good sense of Fancy Pants was legendary, after all. “It is the belief of some of our walk of life that we are not allowed to marry for love, which makes it all the more beautiful when two wayward hearts find each other. If you would please raise your glasses in a toast,” he requested. The room was quite suddenly, and magically, awash with glasses.
Fancy Pants cleared his throat. “It is my great pleasure to publicly announce, and to toast, the engagement of Lord Hammer Strike and Lady Rarity. May their years be long, and their happiness boundless.” He lifted his glass, and so as not to look goash or fall out of his favour, or perhaps because of genuine care, the occupants of the room echoed his sentiments as they lifted their own glasses before taking a drink, which was followed by the enthusiastic stomping of hooves. With a wink to Avalon and Shrial, Grif tapped the side of his glass gently. The other two followed. He shot a conspiratorial glance towards Pensword, who soon had his family echoing the action, which had begun to spread to other tables until there was a loud ringing of crystal.
“What are you waiting for? Kiss her already!” Grif shouted over the din.
Without much more delay, Hammer Strike let loose a grin that caused a collective shudder to run through the gathering before he pulled Rarity in for a passionate kiss.
Luna shot Celestia a somewhat uneasy glance as she turned away from the sight.
Celestia simply gaped. “Hammer Strike and Rarity? Our Hammer Strike? And Rarity?”
“I find it somewhat … offputting to observe the stallion who raised us kissing a mare less than a tenth our age,” Luna noted quietly. “Is this what foals feel like when they observe their parents kissing?”
“Let us never speak of this again,” Celestia suggested.
“Agreed,” Luna said, looking awkwardly at the pair. “I must … go prepare.” She immediately made her way out from the room.
“That reminds me,” Celestia said as she walked over to Clover’s table, where she was happily enjoying a slice of honey glazed ham. “Clover, might I have your ear for a moment? There’s something I wish to discuss, and I’m afraid it can’t wait.”
“What is it, your highness?”
Celestia proceeded to whisper into her ear, and a sinister grin spread across Clover’s face.
“This is going to be good.” Then she let loose a malevolent chuckle.
It was midnight, and the gala was scheduled to end at one o’clock specifically, so it was now or never for Luna as she prepared her presentation. Seven of her best Thestral guards had been outfitted in Hammer Strike’s new platemail with full arms assigned to each one. They marched into the room, four behind her, each in perfect step, as they had rehearsed several times. Luna herself had changed from her gown into her ursa bone battle armor, looking every inch the warrior queen with Meteor Impact hovering in her magical grip like a staff. The room became instantly quiet as the party approached the center of the room. Nobles clamored around, muttering either admiringly or in contempt, concern, or overall confusion. Whatever the case may have been, nopony could ignore the display as the party took their place in the center of the room.
“Hear ye, hear ye!” Captain Night Shade growled in his loudest voice. Numerous eye witnesses would later claim his face was so stern his eyepatch was glaring. “Her royal highness, Princess of the Moon, Co-ruler of Equestria, High Chieftess of the Thestral Clans, and Ruler of the city of Ys, Princess Luna Artemis Demeter Galaxia wishes to address you. Incline your ears, and hear Her Highness speak.”
“Thank you, Captain,” Luna said, nodding with respect to the Thestral before taking a sweeping glance of the room. “Lords, ladies, honored friends, visiting dignitaries. Equestria has for too long laid in a fragile state where a mixture of misplaced fear and clever diplomacy has kept our nation balancing on the edge of a knife. The attack on our fair city of Canterlot, I’m sure, still resonates within the memory of all. The threat of Chrysalis and her Changelings still remains in the Badlands, as well as the possibility of more hives. The Diamond Dogs to the south have been encroaching on our territories for too long, stealing our resources, and kidnapping our citizens for cruel forced labour. Monsters and horrors run rampant in any area not wealthy enough to afford a guard post or to hire local mercenaries.”
She looked around, her gaze showing no fear. “Worse yet, foreign correspondence has revealed trouble in Gryphonia with an attempted coup, the would-be-usurper having had aims towards attacking our fair nation. In the Stampede Grounds the tribes vie for war. With whom can only be decided with time, and you may be certain Equestria is amongst the list of possible targets. Currently, prospects are grim, with only our guard forces to defend us. We cannot secure our alliances, we cannot protect our trade caravans, and sadder still, we cannot secure our own borders.”
Luna paused to let her words sink in for a moment, letting every Pony, Gryphon, and so on in the audience truly drink in the gravity of her speech. From the crowd, Grif nodded approvingly. Pensword stood in another section, his face grim, but his eyes shining at the excitement he knew was about to happen. His body instinctively shifted to a more military stance as he casually scanned the audience for any dissenters or assassins. Hammer Strike grinned as he heard her speak. Vital Spark looked intently at Princess Luna as he took in what she had to say. He’d known this speech was coming for quite some time, so he remained calm, even as a low murmur began to spread over the crowd. Baron Blueblood stood in his own little space, surrounded by his followers. He watched with just a hint of a smile as his eyes scanned hungrily for the reaction to the news that he knew was coming. He had changed since the last time Pensword had seen him. The Pony noble looked a little more gaunt in the cheeks, as if he had just gotten over an illness. Five element bearers looked on in confusion at Twilight as Luna continued to speak. Just what was the princess planning? And if Twilight knew, why hadn’t she told them?
“Now some of you may say, ‘but Princess, we have you and Celestia and the Elements of Harmony to save us.’ To this I say my sister has disavowed the path of war. She has made her vows before Faust, and while she would fight to defend you, she has sworn away from open warfare. As for myself, I am still but one Pony, and I cannot fight an entire war. And as for the Elements of Harmony, they are not a weapon, and are incapable of violent acts.” Luna blurred. In an instant she was at Fluttershy’s side, and with nary a flick of her magic, Meteor Impact’s ursa claw spike stood with the point pressing against the shy Pony’s jugular. Fluttershy whimpered. “In one action, I will have disabled the elements for an entire generation,” Luna said, accompanied by the gasps of the Ponies around her. “United, they are powerful, but if even one is removed, they are useless.” Luna looked apologetically at Fluttershy, then returned to the center of the room in less than a second while Fluttershy squeaked and hid behind Rainbow Dash.
“And so, that is why tonight, at this gala we celebrate before the running of the leaves, that I do propose the remilitarization of Equestria. We propose the training of soldiers, sappers, archers, snipers, siege engineers, naval warriors, and yes, an air force. Let us look at the threats directed toward our land, and let us answer them as one. ‘No mas!’” She brought her hammer down, decimating several floor tiles and sending a crack like thunder through the room. After a long pause, she gestured to one of her escort, who pulled out a scroll, pen, and inkwell before posing to record. The floor was officially open for questions.
The other Thestrals banged their own weapons or stomped their armored shoes into the ground, voicing their agreement. When the hubbub had dropped to a more reasonable level, the first questions began. The first one came from the back, a mare, judging by the sound of her voice, and it was one Luna was only too familiar with.
“We recognize Countess Summer Breeze,” Luna said. “What is your question?”
Summer Breeze scowled. “How can you expect to pay for all of this? If the coffers aren’t able to fund the children’s safety net, how can it fund a whole military?”
“We have set aside half of our personal fortune to this pursuit as a foundation, and received generous sums from other sources. Granted, in the end, it would require allocating some of the tax funds towards this pursuit, but if you believe your safety blankets would stop the weapons of our enemies, please bring one before us, and hold it in front of your breast. I am sure everypony here would love to see its mystical strength against the might of Meteor Impact. Or perhaps we should start with something smaller, like a dagger or a dirk, and work our way up. Surely then you can prove to us the protection it can offer.”
Summer Breeze verbally sucked in her breath. “How…? I am talking about the future of the mental well being of our children!”
“And I am assuming they shall be alive and free to enjoy that safety, Countess,” Luna countered somewhat impatiently. “Or are you storing this gold for the Minotaurs? Maybe the Gryphons? Perhaps you have a soft spot for Diamond Dog pups? Tell me, Countess, is the life of your daughter worth your ambitions?”
Summer Breeze went silent. “I ... am sure we can come to an agreement in your personal chambers.”
“I’m sorry, Countess, but as this matter effects all the population of Equestria, all matters pertaining to it will be made in public record,” Luna said.
Grif tapped Summer Breeze gently on the shoulder and whispered into her ear. Whatever he said seemed to appease her issues for the present.
“How will you choose who should lead this army?” Lord Cookie spoke up. “Is that a matter of public record, too?” The tone was almost accusing.
“Should this bill be put through, each court shall place one candidate for an examination. The highest scoring candidate shall gain the post.” It was obvious to everypony who the Lunar and Crystal candidates would be. That only left the lords to squabble over who the Solar Court would put forward, a masterful play by Luna.
“Does Princess Twilight have her own candidate?” Another noble from House Jade called out. “Or will she override us in the Solar Court?”
Twilight suddenly looked more like a filly than a regal princess. Fortunately, Luna didn’t leave her hanging.
“Currently, Princess Twilight has been under the protection of Lord Hammer Strike,” Luna reminded them. “It has been agreed that she will support the Crystal candidacy for this.”
“Will there be any incentives for towns to support this?” Stalliongrad spoke up in his thick accent. “What of the officers? Who trains? Or will it be coming only from the nobles?” His tone of voice clearly showed which he favored.
“Aside from the guaranteed protection from monsters and Diamond Dog raiding parties, the need for military production will lead to the creation of new jobs nationwide, as will the need to feed the army well, which will mean new subsidies and tax benefits for farmers who sell to the military at a fair price,” Luna said. “Anything more is above my current power to promise.” She sighed, bracing herself for what she knew would not be a very popular subject. “To address your inquiry, Stalliongrad, the promotion of officers will be decided by merit and talent as deemed fit by the commander in question, myself, and a qualified officer near the level of the officer under review. Field promotions will, of course, be respected unless the troops are informed otherwise after a fair review.”
“I can’t believe that they are going with the Pegasus traditions,” Baron Blueblood called out, drawing attention to him as he stepped forward. “I leave my sick bed to hear this drivel? Why, I bet you have Earth Pony traditions and Thestral, but what traditions from the Unicorns do you plan include? If you truly wish to institute the old ways, then harmony must be respected,” he insisted before breaking into a coughing fit.
“We have been integrating many of the Unicornian mage tactics fairly well, Baron Blueblood, and have already worked out a second hierarchy for spell casters, and its interaction with the chain of command,” Luna noted.
“If I may, then, I would like to present a list of Mages to be considered for leadership positions. As the head of one small, informal alliance amongst the noble houses, I have been made privy to those who bear such talents for spellcraft.” He levitated a scroll from his jacket pocket to the princess. “It is my hope that they will each be given a fair chance, and should they not prove up to the task, that they be allowed to be trained under a superior mage to help them improve.”
“Your suggestions will be considered, Baron, but talent must be put before birthright.” Luna let her face go a bit pale, and feigned surprise and worry. She’d hunted fox before. She knew how to lure one out. Her eyes caught Grif’s for a second, and in that moment, all that was needed to be said was, as Grif signaled a serving mare nearby. Her yellow eyes flashed a turquoise blue, and she made her way out of the room.
“I did say verified, of course,” Baron Blueblood responded with equal show of surprise. “I can understand your position only too well. This is a turbulent time, and with a bill like this, one might realize old rights. Tell me, Princess, how will the old rights of houses mustering their own forces be handled? Will the houses still be required to pay for the troops themselves, arm them, and armor them, as well as feed them in the field? Or will the Crown subsidize them?” The implications of that bold question were only too clear to the nobles, both major and minor. Only the wealthy could afford to raise troops of significant numbers.
Luna smirked internally, even as she forced herself to look like she was starting to sweat. Blueblood’s hoof was on the noose. Just a step further... “W-well, Baron, s-such details are decided by the House of Lords, of course,” she said meekly. “You, of all the lords, know that is the law.”
“Then I wish to propose–” Baron Blueblood began, smiling, only to frown as a sudden ruckus from the halls drowned out whatever he had planned to say.
“PRINCESS LUNA! PRINCESS CELESTIA!” Grif shouted as he burst into the crowd. Four guards trailed behind him carrying something wrapped in a large sheet. He held a sheet of parchment in his claws, and was about to speak when he seemed to be distracted by something in Blueblood’s direction. His face melted to sorrow. “Oh Winds damn me, I’m too late. It’s already too late,” he said, his face the picture of torment.
“What are you babbling on about, Gryphon?” Blueblood snapped, showing Grif the same respect he would show the delegates from Gryphielhelm. Regardless, his voice had taken on a shaky tone. When a Gryphon says he or she is too late, it does not bode well for the one to whom they are speaking.
“I’m sorry to tell you this, Baron, but you're already dead.” Grif sighed as he pointed to a black dot on the baron’s neck. “All of you look, and tell me if you spot a dot. It should be just a tiny little speck on your fur.”
“Come again?” Baron Blueblood asked. “Is this some trick or test?” He asked. “If so, then it’s in very poor taste, Grif.” He turned around and glared at his fellow Noobs. Regardless, they had little choice but to follow the game, or else risk showing a callous disregard for life. Like it or not, they had been outplayed. “Well, you heard the Gryphon. Look!” he shouted. It was one of the few times anypony had ever heard the baron raise his voice, which caused more than a little commotion as Ponies looked at their own necks or the necks of those beside them.
“I just intercepted word from one of the guard units. I had been asked, on Hammer Strike’s orders, to send out troops to patrol Canterlot's entrances. They discovered a dead guard pony mare, as well as the body of a Minotaur. They naturally couldn’t lift the Minotaur, but they felt that this was urgent enough to show the princesses when they had finished analyzing the victims’ blood content,” Grif said, signaling to the guards. They unwrapped the sheet, revealing a dead guard mare covered in large lumps. Several patches of fur were missing, and multiple sores oozed a sickly yellow fluid. “My princesses, I am sorry to say that someone has snuck into the gala impersonating a Minotaur delegate, and assassinated anyone here marked with the venom of a whomping hinkypunk.”
Luna’s face went deathly pale.
Blueblood paused. “Is this some forgotten beast from the Everfree?” He noticed the murmuring as it grew to a dull roar. More and more stallions and mares appeared stricken with grief and self pity. “A simple marking would...” he trailed off. “How could this happen?”
“It is no simple beast,” Luna said sternly, her expression grave as she locked onto Baron Blueblood. “It is, by far, one of the worst horrors we have faced: a small beast, unimposing, with a single foot and eight gleaming eyes. It waits until its victim is alone before injecting them with just a small bit of venom. They live in bogs, you see, and once they’ve injected you, you will die. It’s only a matter of when.” Luna looked sullen. “Their venom kills slowly, you see. This mare probably was injected when she stopped to camp while escorting the dignitary. When they slept, the fiend must have injected them, and then stolen the dignitary’s credentials.” She shook her head sadly. “Oh, what a horrible way to die. And so agonizing, too. The poor things must have been immobilized for hours, if not days, before they passed.”
“Well get us an antidote then! Or surely there must be a counter spell,” one of the noble ladies demanded.
“I’m afraid that there is no cure,” Clover the Clever said, her head hanging low to conceal the smirk on her face. “No antidote has ever been able to save a Pony, even right after injection. And healing magic, or any higher concentration of magic for that matter, only makes the process more painful. I don’t envy the Unicorns in the room.”
“What are the symptoms?” a stallion asked, his eyes wide as his body shook. He was clearly on the verge of hysteria.
“It differs from Pony to Pony, but the more common ones are the constant feeling of a chill or a draft–”
A mare who had just prior to this announcement commented her friend about the draftiness of the ballroom went deathly pale.
“–Fever,” Grif noted as several stallions and their mare partners that had been dancing animatedly wiped their warm foreheads.
“–Dehydration,” Clover continued. A crowd moved towards the punch bowl.
“Feelings of fatigue,” Grif went on. In the panic, none of the nobles had taken the time to stop and remember they had been at the party for over six hours, and should be tired. “And in rare cases, the poison causes the infected to faint.” No sooner were the words out of Grif’s beak when several nobles of both genders proceeded to flop to the floor in a swoon.
“Of course, these are only the initial symptoms. I don’t have the heart to describe the mid to later symptoms,” Grif said, pretending to skim the page with a look of pity and disgust. “But greater still, what's to become of Equestria?” he asked.
“What indeed? I’ve already spotted the mark on several important figures. The minister of the Treasury and his assistants, and their assistants; the Ministers of Foreign Affairs; the head of the House of Lords. It will take us months to stabilize the infrastructure again,” Luna noted.
“But surely you’ve planned for emergency measures?” Grif asked, this time eyeing Celestia.
“We do indeed; however,” she never got to finish her sentence as she suddenly collapsed, a radiant corona of heat bursting from her body as she cried out in pain.
Grif was about to move until he noticed Celestia’s floor-facing eye catch his, and give the slightest wink.
“There’s only one substance known to Pony or any creature that could lay an alicorn low,” Clover said seriously, even as her horn finished its scan. “She’s been exposed to the Flames of Tartarus. Celestia will be dead within twenty four hours.”
This time, the room practically exploded in panic.
“Without Celestia, what shall we do?” a lord cried.
Another guard entered the room and ran up to Princess Luna, passing her a scroll. Her eyes widened in shock as she read it. “The Changelings are attacking from the Badlands!” she cried causing the crowd to gasp.
As this happened, another guard ran in carrying an identical scroll. “The Gryphon seditionists are attacking with Minotaurs!”
“We must rally a defense!” one of the very few unmarked nobles shouted.
“With what?” Luna asked him.
“We have the guard,” came a hopeful reply.
“A few hundred undertrained Ponies against three separate armies on two fronts?” Luna asked.
“Then form an army!” someone shouted.
“But you have given me no authority to form an army,” Luna noted.
The room was cold and silent as the air of hopelessness washed over them like a tsunami. Many of the nobles completely necessary to the country would be dead by morning with many others following soon after. Changelings from the north, Minotaurs and Gryphons from across the sea, a few hundred guards, and no soldiers. Things indeed seemed pretty bleak.
“Alright, y’all.” A familiar voice cut through everyone's thoughts. “You’ve had yer fun. Now I think it’s time to explain all this,” Applejack said, stomping her hoof indignantly. The other nobles looked confused as they stared at the element of honesty.
Luna chuckled. “All right, Applejack.” Then she turned to address the audience as Celestia rose to join her. Smiling proudly at her younger sister, Celestia placed a supportive wing on Luna’s back, even as Luna began her address.
“Ponies of Equestria, you have just taken part in a very accurate dramatization of what could really happen if the country is not without a competent standing military force with a notable hierarchy not controlled by squabbling nobles arguing over whose banner should be held highest.”
She took the opportunity to smile smugly at Baron Blueblood as he began to realize he’d been played.
“In one attack, the country that has stood for over two thousand years becomes helpless. Our enemies, smelling the blood in the water, encroach upon us. And by the time we can organize the meagerest of defences, we are already too late. I ask you that when you leave tonight, go home and hug your loved ones, tuck in your foals by yourselves for once, and think very hard if you're really willing to gamble their lives on your ambitions, because as a very wise friend of mine once told me–” she looked at Pensword, but her stare looked past him to Matthew. “–United, we stand. Divided, we fall.”
Celestia nodded in approval. “My sister and I may well be strong, we may well be powerful, and your houses may be as well, but we are all mortal in our own ways, and we all have our weaknesses to face. Until we look at these weaknesses as one body, united in the purpose of protecting our loved ones, then our nation will continue to remain vulnerable, and the lives of the subjects we have both come to love and cherish will be at risk. We cannot stand by and allow this to happen. My Lords and Ladies, I urge you to consider my sister’s words. Though she may appear young, her knowledge and wisdom stretches well over a thousand years. Her reasoning is sound, and the course clear. I add my voice to hers, and urge you to put aside your petty squabbles, your struggles for wealth and power. Equestria is a nation that was founded on the principles of harmony, on kindness, laughter, honesty, loyalty, generosity, and the magic of friendship. These elements must be embodied in all of us if we are to truly succeed. I sense turbulent times ahead. Let us be properly prepared for them, so that we need not see our little Ponies suffer again.”
The majority of the people in the ballroom dispersed in a somewhat quiet fashion. Some were somber. Others where contemplative. But a few, notably one Baron Blueblood, were livid. When the last of the normal nobles left, the guards, the “corpse,” and more than half the serving staff reverted to their Changeling forms, all perfectly healthy.
“Great job, everyone,” Grif said, taking the time to go and clap each individual Changeling on the back in approval. “Make sure to tell the queen that you all made her proud tonight.”
“Big Guns hasn’t had this much fun in a long time,” the Minotaur said as he approached Grif from his hiding place behind one of the walls. Had he been present when the presentation took place, the chaos would have undermined the speech, and he likely would have either been dead, or had to kill many a Pony in self defense. “But at the same time, Big Guns can’t help but wish there was a fight. Is that a bad thing?”
“Minotaurs are a fighting people,” Grif said as he clapped Big Guns’ wrist. “Thanks for your help, my friend.” He passed Big Guns a bag of bits, and refused to let him refuse it.
With the dealings finished and thanks exchanged, Grif turned to Pensword. “Sorry for the deception, but it was kind of a need-to-know thing.”
“Do you know that if it wasn’t for three ‘Thestrals,’” he spoke, Grif could tell that those three were really changelings. “I was going to be calling on troops and act on the scrolls, correct? It may be a training exercise, but I really do not like the thought of not acting. Though I do have to ask. Who thought of Princess Celestia and the Flower of Tartarus? I knew you had something planned, but getting Celestia on board, I am impressed.”
“Frankly,” Grif said, turning to said princess, “I’m wondering about that as well.”
“Now Grif,” Celestia said with a playful smile. “A good princess never reveals her secrets.” Then she winked.
“Still, my sister, it would seem we have a few things to discuss in the future,” Luna noted.
“Speaking of that, Princess Celestia, I’m going to need some papers drawn up for a business, and the right to print shares in said business,” Grif said.
“And what business would that be?” Celestia asked.
“Um … call it High-end Innovative Visual Entertainment. I need thirty shares in it for Lady Summer Breeze in return for her support and relative silence.”
“For what exactly?”
“Well the stock value would, I’m sure, be a great investment for her safety nets.” Grif shrugged. “Once the stock gets value anyways.”
“And how do you intend to fund this business of yours?”
“Equestria has theaters and short length animated features. Tell me, Celestia, do you think an hour long animated movie would have any value here?”
“It’s difficult to say. You would have to make it very convincing. My first question still stands, though. Do you have enough funds for your initial investment?”
“You know any museums interested in Third Gryphon War period Gryphon statuettes and artifacts, some of which may be made of gold? I may have a few dozen pieces hidden away for a rainy day.”
“Assuming you can produce them and acquire the funds necessary, then yes, I can easily give you the permit.”
“You’d better make me a part of your writing crew, Grif,” Vital said.
“I’ll see if I can squeeze you in between ‘Ling 920 and ‘Ling 780,” Grif chuckled.
Pensword cocked an eyebrow. “Might need to tap you for animated how-to videos for training purposes.” He paused. “If I think, well … the memories of who you might be drawing inspiration from that is. I will need your staff to do standardized training films.”
“We’ll talk,” Grif said with a yawn. “For now I think it’s time we bunker down for the night.”
“Just need to load everyone onto the Gantrithor, drop off the Elements in Ponyville, and then we can dock at New Unity,” Hammer Strike commented. “Oh, and by the way, might need someone to clean up the inner gallery,” he directed to Celestia and Luna.
“Who attacked you this time?” Luna growled out as she levitated her hammer. “Was it the Gryphons? Or have the Minotaurs finally become brave enough to challenge you outside their fields again?”
“Nah. It was just two Pony assassins hired by an organization here in Canterlot under the acronym NOOB. Didn’t get very far, and I am somewhat disappointed it was only two.” He frowned.
Grif burst out laughing at the acronym. Luna, Rainbow Dash, and Pinkie Pie soon followed. Even Fluttershy giggled a bit. Vital Spark barely managed to contain himself, though his smile said it all.
Extended Holiday Ch 93: A Very Merry (Un)Birthday Act 13
The downside to a large vessel like the Gantrithor was that the smaller actions could take too long. By the time Grif, Hammer Strike, and Circlet had the ship turned around towards Ponyville, it was already gaining on three in the morning, and the group, which was still inside the castle, was tired. Thus, by the time everyone was loaded and prepared, the sun was beginning to make its way up on the horizon.
“Should I put them in the rooms?” Grif asked Hammer Strike. “Let them sleep for the next eight or so seconds?”
“I say we just park the ship over New Unity and we just all sleep on board. Give them rest, and not move them all over the place. I rem–well, Matthew remembers sleeping on a bus once, and this is much more comfortable. Everypony already knows we won’t hurt them, so taking a nap over New Unity, then dropping off later tonight sounds like a great idea.”
“It’s going to be a little hard to sleep with all this sunlight filtering in,” Vital Spark noted. “Does the ship have any darker rooms?”
“We are on a warship. We have blackout curtains installed in the rooms. Just close the blinds, and the room will be dark enough,” Pensword muttered. “A Warship that shines like a lighthouse is a poor warship indeed.” With that said, he groggily began to weave his way out the door in search of his own place to rest.
Vital Spark let out a yawn. “Good, because I’m tired. I could probably sleep through armageddon and not even notice.”
Grif rolled his eyes as he worked on assigning everyone a room. He was yawning a bit himself as he entered the bridge. “Well, they’re all stowed away. Let’s get this behemoth moving before some noble gets bright ideas.”
“I’ve got extra security measures going; don’t worry,” Hammer Strike said. “Go ahead and get some rest yourself. I’ll get us home at a nice pace, so you all don’t fall over in your sleep.”
“Yeah, yeah, you just don’t go crashing my ship into the side of a mountain.” Grif chuckled. “Who knows how long it would take to make another one?” He continued to laugh as he exited the room.
After Grif left, Hammer Strike couldn’t help but mutter something out loud. “I wonder if I could create a sort of protective field over the ship…”
“We have the energy,” Circlet noted. “It’s only a matter of the right enchantments.”
“Another problem would be the backlash if the energy isn’t contained correctly in the field.”
“What about projecting the energy outwards? If all the force faces away from us, then any backlash should only strike away from the ship.”
“It would work fine, but the problem is when one of us accidentally hits something that we don’t want to explode on impact.”
“Maybe you should contact a shield magic expert?” Circlet suggested. “Study the science of shield spells to better apply it to the ship?”
“I mean, I already have a shield spell, technically. Since the ship could power it well enough, I could try and apply it from just myself to the ship.”
“That seems somewhat inefficient,” Circlet noted.
“You just haven’t seen the shield in action. Then again, only Clover has, really.”
“The math still seems inefficient,” Circlet noted. “You can’t draw from the core and then redirect it around the ship without losing more power then you’ll be gaining.”
“As said, you don’t know my methods. I’ll show you another time. For now, let’s just get everyone home, eh?”
“Well, the course is set, and it’s not like Ponyville's a complicated trip. We can go when you're ready.”
Hammer Strike slowly pushed a switch forward, and the ship slowly glided forward..
Grif looked at Grenado with a raised eyebrow and crossed talons.
“So…”
“So...?”
“Do you mind explaining … that?” Grif gestured to a large hole blown into the battlements of the gatehouse.
“Well, ya see, Hammer Strike left us a cask of the good stuff last night, and I forgot that you shouldn’t be mixin’ explosives while you’re seeing triple, and I may have used a wee bit too much black powder,” Grenado said sheepishly.
“You do realise if this keeps up, we’re going to have to either start sending you away when we leave, or cut your alcohol ration when we leave.”
Grenado stared at Grif with an expression like he had just threatened his family.
“Just get it repaired, Grenado,” Grif sighed. “And from now on, no more mixing explosives after a drinking binge.”
Pensword entered. “Why is there a gaping hole in the wall? We cannot have this. If the nobles see this, it will be ammunition used against us and against the bill.”
“It’s been handled, Pensword. Just a minor accident. We’ll get it fixed, and the Demos are moving their lab below ground from now on,” Grif assured him.
“Good. The best testing is done underground,” Pensword chirped as he turned around and walked towards his office.
“I think it’s best if we leave the snipers to the gate house for now, Grenado. Have everything moved by morning, okay?” Grif chuckled a bit as he looked around the heavily packed room. “And get that hole fixed.” Without waiting for a reply, he strolled out the door and back towards his own office.
Pensword sat at his desk looking over some letters. Not even two days had passed, and already nobles were bombarding him with objects, support statements, or worse yet, obvious questions even a foal could answer by reading the bill’s contents. Why did they always have to be so lazy? Didn’t they know he had important work to do? He sighed as he looked at the significantly smaller stack in front of him. Preston, his Changeling secretary, had deemed them the most important, and had included a note for him to respond personally as soon as possible. Checking the pile, he was quite surprised to find just how many letters were from foals and younger Ponies. Why had so many children written to him? He briefly looked at the other two piles sitting on either side of the desk in separate mail bags, shook his head, then returned his attention to the letters at hoof. This would be more fun, he thought to himself.
He unfolded the first letter to find a crayon drawing of Ponies. He chuckled as he saw the note underneath it.
Dear Mister Pensword,
Please give my daddy his birthday off. It’s the week after the gala.
That was all it read. Pensword chuckled. Child logic. Everyone should know the important dates in their life. He looked at the address and the picture. Of course, Daddy was Daddy, but he did finally get something when he looked at the hastily scrawled name on the back. The child’s name was Glittering Star, a Unicorn according to the drawing, and was her daddy. He pulled a roll of parchment and wrote back.
Dear Glittering Star,
I would love to give your Daddy the day off; however, your daddy serves under Princess Celestia, so I am going to forward your letter to her, and she can let you know what she decides. I thank you for your kind letter, and I wish you a happy week. I hope your father gets the time off. I have a little girl of my own, so I know how he must feel being away from you.
Good Luck,
Pensword
As soon as he finished signing his name, he pulled out a new parchment and began to write.
To Princess Celestia:
I am forwarding you a letter written by one Glittering Star. While I know we cannot give the guards their birthdays off, I would like to request that we try and surprise her daddy with a surprise visit from daughter and wife. If he is a dignitary guard, I recommend we give Glittering Star the treatment of a visiting diplomat, even if it is for the single day. I leave the final choice in your hooves and wings. I told her that you would respond to the letter, so if it is a no, at least it comes from your royal parchments. Please be gentle with her.
Your Loyal Commander,
Pensword
He went to the the next letter.
Dear Mr.Pensword,
My daddy told me one time that you beat up a Dragon with your bare hooves! When I grow up, I want to be big, and brave, and strong, and fight dragons like you!
The name Golden Harvest was signed at the bottom.
Pensword chuckled. “I’ll never live that one down, will I?” he asked the empty room before taking pen to paper.
To Golden Harvest,
Your daddy is a smart stallion. And yes, I did fight a dragon. I do wish to caution you to learn wisdom as well when you train to become stronger. Bravery is akin to Courage, and I wish to say this, Courage is fear holding on a moment longer. If this does not make sense, ask your daddy to explain it to you. As for fighting Dragons, I pray nopony will have to face the inside jaws of a dragon. Trust me, it isn’t very pleasant.
Sincerely, a servant of the nation,
Commander Pensword
The next letter proved to be rather intriguing, having been addressed from the Ponyville Elementary School.
Dear Pensword,
I know you must be busy, especially with all this news about a new bill to militarize Equestria, but I was wondering if you might be able to find the time to come by my class to teach the foals a little bit about Thestral culture and a brief summary of their history as a people. With all the new Thestrals moving in across Equestria, I need to prepare my class, so they can understand, rather than bully, when we start getting more students. I think you know who I mean when I say bully. If you could please let me know when would be the best time to visit, I’ll make an arrangement for my class. Thank you in advance.
Sincerely,
Miss Cheerilee
Pensword sat at the desk in shock and ponderment. He blinked a few times before deciding to tackle the letter. It wasn’t like she’d leave him alone. Once Cheerliee had a lesson plan in mind, she went after it like a Diamond Dog after gems.
Dear Miss Cheerilee,
I would love to be a part of this class; however, I will have to decline personally, due to the fact that even I am learning what is normal for a Thestral of today. I lived a thousand years ago in a different Equestria. If you still wish to present on Thestral history and how we used to act as a people, I will gladly help there. As for one who can help today, I cannot give any higher praise than to one Moonshade from the Lunar Guard. If you wish to have a day or two on Thestrals, I would be willing to attend to work off Moonshade’s modern day knowledge, so they can know what to expect.
Sincerely,
Commander Pensword Pen Hurricane (I am not writing out my full title.)
Pensword put the letters into the outbox and pulled another letter. Naturally, the envelope had already been opened.
Can I have an auto– Pensword saw at least six attempts at spelling the word before the entire thing was crossed out.
Can you sign your name to prove that you are real to my school?
Pensword chuckled and took up his pen and parchment.
I can do one better. Let me know your school, and I will give a presentation for everypony there. Thank you for the boldness and fearlessness to ask something as simple as my signature. I do wish for you to learn how to spell this one word, though. It is spelled autograph. I am happy to see you are learning big words. Keep up the good work.
Commander Moonkissed Pensword Pen Hurricane
Postscript, or P.S. You only asked for my name. I’ve included my favorite titles in a separate list for you to practice writing, too.
Pensword really was enjoying this exercise. Grinning, he promised himself that even when he had a full kingdom to protect, he would still take time to answer children’s letters. He’d have to remember to thank Preston properly later.
Sai casually drank his cup of tea as he looked on his two guests. The white mare with the sparkling gem cutie mark was most courteous, and appeared well versed in the traditions of taking tea. Hammer Strike simply heated his to the point of scalding before swallowing and uttering a satisfied sigh. They made for an unusual pair, and to think that the legendary figure had finally chosen to take a bride for himself. It would be something to shake the world, that much was certain.
“So you wished to discuss the travel arrangements with me, Hammer Strike?” he asked, even as he casually ignited another stick of incense from its holder on the carpet beneath them.
“Yes. I plan on us starting our journey next week, giving all of us the needed time to prepare. The Gantrithor should get us to Napon at less than a quarter of the time it would take to travel by hoof.”
“We would have to send word to our ships then. We did not know you had such a unique mode of transportation at your disposal.”
“It certainly seems like travel is going to be a lot easier with it around, now that it’s been modified to handle faster speeds.”
“And to accommodate more than just troops,” Rarity added. “Sometimes a cabin just needs a little feminine touch.”
Sai couldn’t help but laugh. “Your reputation precedes you, Rarity. You like to make everything as fashionable as possible, don’t you?”
“While that may be true, dear Sai, I was referring more to the necessity of comfort, rather than style. And perhaps a few small amenities to make it feel more like a room and less like a barracks.”
“I suppose that is fair enough,” Sai chuckled. Ping arrived carrying more tea. He carefully refilled each of their cups and bowed respectfully to Sai.
“Will there be anything else, Master Sai?”
“If you could perhaps bring our guests some rice balls, I believe they would appreciate it.”
Ping bowed. “Of course, Master. I will return momentarily.”
Sai sighed in approval. “Such a good boy. Now then, I know that you are averse to certain rules and customs, Hammer Strike, but in our culture, certain decorums must be maintained. There will likely be a parade in your honor–”
“I’m somewhat already not liking this,” Hammer Strike faintly muttered.
“Oh, come now, darling, it can’t be that bad,” Rarity whispered back.
“–You will have to meet with the emperor immediately afterwards, and a feast will also be held in celebration of your many deeds.”
“A feast? Tell me, Sai, what would a girl like me be expected to wear? A girl has to look her best for royalty,” Rarity gushed.
“Most young maidens wear a kimono, an intricately designed robe made from silk, usually depicting various scenes from our homeland, such as cherry trees or other floral patterns.”
“Why that sounds positively adorable! You … don’t think your people would mind too terribly if I were to try a more unique design, would they? I would never wish to cause offense.”
“With manners like yours, Lady Rarity? Surely you jest,” Sai said with a sly wink before returning to his tea with a perfectly straight face. “You will, of course, be allowed to go to your personal quarters afterwards, which will likely be in or near Master Haku’s residence. Some time later during your visit, an appointment will be set for each of you in the hall of records so that your personal first hand accounts may be taken and added to our collection to cross reference and remove any irregularities or inconsistencies. Aside from that, and possibly a guard and translator for your friends, your movements and freedoms should be fairly unrestricted during your stay.”
“First hand account of what?” Hammer Strike asked. “First hand account of when we were together?”
“Of various events we have recorded from your respective lives. Though we would like to clarify one inconsistency that has plagued our archives for over a millennium if at all possible.”
“Mind telling me what event it is?”
“Our records show you and your party being in Zebrica at the same time the Third Gryphon war was taking place. Since it is not possible for one to be in two places at once, we thought to ask each of you to find which is truth, and which is merely a fable. There are, unfortunately, those within the order of scribes who seek a faster way to respect and authority by forging events and documentation.”
Hammer Strike chuckled faintly. “I’m sorry to say this, Sai, but I can’t reveal all my secrets, so that one will have to remain a mystery in the archives for you all to solve some day in the future.”
“But surely it’s a simple matter of confirming or denying your location at the time,” Sai said.
“The thing is, Sai, I have been in multiple places near the same exact, if not exact, time, and sometimes I travel with the others.”
“That makes very little sense,” Sai said pointedly.
“Because I’m not saying how I and my party did it, but yes, we were there.”
Sai groaned. “This will set the consortium on fire in debates. I hope you realize that. And I’m going to have to be chairman that week.”
“I’m sure you’ve had worse debates over the other seventy-five percent of the things I’ve done, like how I can cast magic as an Earth Pony.” Hammer Strike chuckled.
“Actually, the council passed a motion as a body not to open that subject after Haku, Gakushu, and Kurama explained what little you had told them, and what they had witnessed when you used said power.”
“Good choice.”
“Indeed. Ah, thank you, Ping,” Sai said as the rice balls arrived. “I promise you, Lady Rarity, this will be a real treat for your taste buds.”
The squee of delight that followed the sampling spilled all across New Unity for the next minute straight.
Grif waited patiently at Ponyville Train Station. He’d gotten word that Genevieve was coming in on the noon train, and he wanted to be there when she arrived. He was excited to show her the compound, and what Hammer Strike was doing with New Unity.
At last, the train arrived, its brakes screeching to a halt as it hissed wearily. The journey must have been a hard one for the old steamer. The doors flipped open either magically or manually depending on the passenger as Ponies and other species flowed out from the carts, yet there was no sign of Genevieve.
Grif looked around. Had he gotten the train wrong?” He wondered as he took to the air and flew several feet above the station to try and get a better view.
Suddenly he was tackled from above, and a wicked laugh brought him up just short of plunging his talons into his assailant. “Got ya,” Genevieve said cheerfully as she rubbed her head against his neck.
“You know,” he said as he hugged her gently, “you really need to watch that. I wouldn’t want to do something by accident.”
“I don’t think you would,” she said as she waved her tail playfully in front of his beak. “So, we flying back, or did you want to show me Ponyville first?”
“I’ve got the whole day cleared,” Grif said as they landed. “Anything you want to do is open.”
Genevieve smirked. “Then let’s do everything.”
“And where, my lady, does everything begin?” he asked.
“Well, you are my tour guide, after all. I’ll trust your judgement,” she said, kissing him lightly on the cheek.
“Well then.” He smiled. “How about I show you off at the inn? I can show you where I tell stories from time to time.”
They did that, and from the inn, they went to the library, Sugar Cube Corner, several of the shops, except, of course, for Rarity's boutique, as she wasn’t there at the moment. He gave her a tour of what was left of the temporary fort they had used earlier, and showed her the field of battle where the snowball fight had occurred, and if he had anything to say about it, where the next one would be. Finally, they descended into the forest, and he showed her where they had worked on clearing the trees. He recounted his many fights with timberwolves and other beasts. It was already late afternoon when they emerged out of the forest with New Unty and the compound in view.
“And here we are, home sweet home.” Grif smiled as he beheld it.
Genevieve whistled. “You’ve really got the works here, haven’t you?”
“Well, I offered these Gryphons a safe place to live, so I had to live up to that. The fort, however, is only the start of Hammer Strike’s plan for the area.”
“Is that so?”
“Unity once united the Pony tribes. Why not something more than that? Why not make it a city for every species?” Grif smiled. “Except maybe our Diamond Dog enemies. Nobody seems to like them.”
“Is that even possible? We’re all so different. There’s bound to be conflict somewhere down the line,” Genevieve said.
“A few years ago, people would have said rescuing an emperor during a coup was impossible,” Grif noted. “How is your cousin doing?” He grinned in a cheeky manner.
“A few years ago, the Avatar of Winds wasn’t around to help stop it,” she countered. “It's not that I don’t believe in you. It just doesn’t seem possible in this generation is all.”
“The seeds of tomorrow need to be planted today.” Grif chuckled. “Besides, I seem to remember a time when females couldn’t be racing flyers, something that no one thought would change in a hundred generations.”
“And if it weren’t for you, it wouldn’t have,” she said again. “Aaaand you’re here, so I’m basically destroying my own argument.” She facetaloned.
“So then, what shall I show you first?” he asked. “The training fields? The clan building? The library?”
“Hmm. How about the training fields? I want to see just what I have to work with for practice. Just because I’ve got a couple of days off doesn’t mean that I should ignore my training.”
“Yes. I do recall you mentioning about showing off.” He laughed as he led her towards Unity Castle proper. “The track yard’s in the fort. I only have weapon training facilities in the compound at the moment.”
The courtyard and the space above it was currently filled with Ponies running courses of all kinds to keep fit. Several of them waved to the two, but otherwise ignored them as they continued to go about their tasks. Grif noted Pensword standing at the center. “Running them hard today, huh?”
“Well, of course. I’ve got to present them for a review by end of year,” Pensword replied. “I have to show that I can turn rabble into something that even looks like an army if you squint.”
“Pensword, this is Genevieve. Genevieve, this is Commander Pensword,” Grif said. “As honorable a warrior as you’ll find on a battlefield, and a damned good person to have your back.”
“Now there’s a stallion I wouldn’t mind competing against,” Genevieve said.
Pensword paused as he heard the statement. “Well, I am honored; however, I am more trained for the marathon trot, not sprinting as fast as you can towards the finish line,” he said with a smile. “Thank you for the compliment, though. It is rare to hear one from a Gryphon that is not of the Bladefeathers or connected to them in some way.”
“Who said it had to be sprinting or flying?” She smirked. “Name your sport, and I’ll play it.
“Wargaming,” Pensword answered without missing a beat.
“As in battle strategy?”
“Yes,” Pensword answered. “Battle Strategy, long term, only goal being to win, no time limits, no gold, silver, or bronze. Just two outcomes.”
“Victory or failure,” Genevieve guessed. “I might be willing to play with you later, Pensword. Though for now, Grif is still giving me the grand tour. Maybe some other time?”
“Of course,” Pensword answered. “Oh, Grif, I move ten infantry divisions from Normandy into the surrounding areas.”
“Good move.” Grif nodded “I’ll let you know my response later,” he said with a wink before gesturing onwards to Genevieve.
“I’m looking forward to seeing the rest of what your new home has to offer,” Genevieve said.
“And I anticipate showing them to you,” Grif said as the two of them continued onwards into the fortress.
“What secrets does this castle hold, I wonder?” Genevieve said as she passed through the doors.
Hammer Strike was quietly sitting in his office, looking over a few messages from Celestia and Luna. He sighed as he rolled one of the scrolls up and put it off to the side before grabbing his cup of tea and taking a drink. His ear twitched faintly as he heard two sets of talons moving down the hallway towards his room. He knew one of them was Grif, but for the second set, he couldn’t quite get the movement down.
“Come in, Grif,” he called out as soon as the clicking ceased. “As well as whoever else is with you.”
“I told you he’s good,” Grif’s voice said as they walked in.
“How can he have that strong of hearing without being blind?” the strange Gryphoness asked.
“By being deprived in another spot. Mine just happens to be most emotion,” Hammer Strike joked faintly as he looked over the newcomer. “I don’t believe we’ve met….”
“Genevieve. I’ve been engaged to Grif for the last few months.” She extended a taloned hand. “And you’re Hammer Strike, the legendary lord.”
“A pleasure to meet you,” Hammer Strike said as he shook Genevieve’s extended talon. “A long distance relationship, eh?”
“You could say that, I suppose.” Her brow furrowed in confusion. “Hasn’t he told you about me?”
“My memory hasn’t been the best recently, I’m sorry to say. Thousand plus years of memories in my head and all that, you know?” Hammer joked as he tapped his forehead.
“I may have forgotten, though. We did get attacked…. Twice. And then there was the whole trip to the empire.”
Genevieve sighed. “That’s what I get for not writing.”
“It’s my fault,” Grif said sternly. “You’ve had a lot to concentrate on with training for the games. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” She kissed him on the cheek. “Practice is nothing compared to fighting, especially when you were protecting Daedalus. My hero.” Then she kissed him again, this time on the beak.
“Well, Hamer Strike, I hope we weren't interrupting anything?” Grif said hastily as a blush rose to his cheeks.
“No, you aren’t. Haven’t had as much work since After Thought arrived.”
“Big plans for the new city of Unity?” Grif said.
“He’s leading the construction team to the designs and working on any problems that come along. After they clear the land for the first ring, they’ll lay the roads and foundations.”
Grif nodded. “Good to hear. If he needs any help, let me know. The clan’s always ready to help out.”
“Surprisingly enough, he hasn’t needed much help. The team is big enough to get a majority of the current workload done,” Hammer Strike explained. “So what brings you two around?”
“A tour,” Grif said, smiling. “I figured it would be good for her to get to know the area, since she’ll be living at the compound after the games.”
“Good to know. I would have been confused to see a new face without any context for why. It’s not exactly pleasant.”
“So you hate what seems to be every couple of weeks, then?” Grif asked smugly.
“Yep.”
“So has Rarity made your tux yet, or did your coat eat it?” Grif chuckled.
“Yes.”
“Coat eat it?” Genevieve asked.
Hammer Strike simply opened the left side of his coat and reached into one of the pockets, pulling out a sword easily too long to be held inside said coat. “Quite the storage system.”
Genevieve gaped.
“It’s best not to question it,” Grif told Genevieve as he closed her beak for her.
“And that’s only one of the mysteries that surrounds me,” Hammer Strike chuckled. “Just wait till you see the spellcasting.”
“How goes your book by the way?” Grif asked. “Anything interesting?”
“You don’t know the half of it, nor will you.”
“No, but I’ll learn enough, I hope,” Grif replied. “I’ve got the last lesson we did almost down pat.”
“Good. I like knowing that you won’t kill yourself. I’ll show you the next step another time, perhaps after the trip to Napon.”
“Napon?” Genevieve asked, surprised. “Since when did the emperor decide to let people come to his city?”
“He still hasn’t,” Grif noted, “but as like most things, Hammer Strike has made himself the exception.”
“I saved one of the high elders’ life a bit over a thousand years ago before the formation of Equestria.”
“Just how old are you?” Genevieve exclaimed.
“Very,” Hammer Strike replied simply.
“I’m going to have to get used to a lot of strange things, aren’t I?”
“You don’t know the half of it,” Hammer Strike said again.
“If an Earth Pony stallion pops out of a blue box and tries to talk to you, just make sure you walk away, unless I tell you otherwise,” Grif said, only half joking.
“Do I even want to ask?”
“You won’t have to. The answer may just pop up for you one day.” Hammer Strike gave a faint grin.
“And so begins the long slide down to insanity. Down, down, down into the downdrafts, my friends,” she quoted jestingly.
“Ahh, you think anybody’s sane here? That’s adorable.” Grif chuckled.
“Are you saying you were insane to want to marry me or any of the others?” Genevieve countered.
“Not quite, but I don’t think any of us were entirely sane to begin with,” Grif said. “Don’t worry. You’ll be fine.”
“I’ll just have a nice long chat with Avalon and Shrial. I’m sure we can think of something to knock some sense back into you again,” she teased.
“I look forward to it.” Grif chuckled. “However, we have a few more things to cover tonight, and then I need to go hunting. After all, with you here, I should find something nice and fresh for dinner.”
“Isn’t he sweet?” Genevieve asked as she turned to Hammer Strike.
“Sure, I’ll pretend that word works for him.”
Genevieve laughed as she kissed Grif again. “Why don’t we get a room?”
“Follow me.” Grif grinned goofily. “I’ll see you later, Hammer Strike,” he said as he led Genevieve away.
Hammer Strike gave a faint wave as they exited his office. After some time he sighed to himself as he thought over what to do next.
Vital Spark smiled as he shot off another ice spear, finishing the snowflake configuration on the target at the secondary range Clover had ordered set up with specific runes in place to protect the rest of the castle from stray magic. “There we go.”
“You seem to have gotten the hang of that spell,” Clover voiced as she approached.
“It helps that I have archery experience. I just imagine it’s an arrow, and where I want it to go, and it just goes.”
“But how fast can you cast them?” Clover asked. “Let’s see how many you can do in thirty seconds.”
Vital Spark went deep into his imagination and pictured a great quiver filled with ice bolts, ready for the throwing. He imagined that quiver on his back, and its bow primed to fire. Once he had the images firmly embedded in his head, he nodded. “Ready.”
“Begin!” Clover snapped.
The arrow was nocked, the shaft formed, the string was pulled, and he fired. The spear clashed with its companion in the center of the target, breaking both apart. Smoothly, he continued, drawing the arrows, nocking, shooting, again and again. Nock. Draw. Aim. Fire. Repeat.
“Time!”
Clover’s voice hearkened Vital Spark back to his human days when he first learned how to handle a bow and arrow. Ah, those were the days. A tight cluster had formed around the center of the target.
“Not bad.” clover nodded. “Fifteen or so. Still, you’re slowing yourself down, making it too mundane.”
“What do you mean?”
“You are making a medium for yourself to propel the icicles. It’s good for getting things started, but it limits you. How many times can a pony fire a bow?” she asked. “You need to realize you don’t need the bow. You just need to will the icicle from point A to point B.”
“I … didn’t know that was coming over in the casting. I was just using the visual as an aid for the beginning, since I thought that would be the smoothest and fastest way.”
“If you had to shoot the icicle, yes, but magic is, in a fundamental way, chaotic. The laws of nature aren't as strong towards it as mundane things. I’ve noticed this problem in recent writings. So many mages needing to make magic scientific. There is no science here. You have point A, and you have point B. You have the will, and you have the target. That's all you need.”
“So essentially, I have to learn to trust the magic to do it properly and pass the technical barrier, much like the girls had to learn to trust Discord.”
Clover nodded “That’s a basic way of putting it, yes.”
Vital smiled. “I remember reading somewhere once that true genius is being able to take the most complex principles and simplifying them to the point where even a child can understand it.” He chuckled. “So, in essence, I just need to want it to happen–” His horn began to glow. “–And it will?” In a flash of light, thirty new icicles had embedded themselves into the target. Vital Spark swayed on his hooves. “Whoa. Headrush.”
“We’ll need to work on restraint.” Clover chuckled. “But you seemed to accept that idea with little trouble.”
“I’m a trusting kind of person.” He shrugged.
“I think we’ll move you on to your next spell,” she said as she took out another scroll. “This time we’re removing the physical component, and just using the cold itself in a focused beam.”
“So, you mean you want me to use a literal ice beam?”
“Oh, this is something you’ve heard of?”
Vital Spark burst into a helpless fit of laughter. After a few moments, he managed to regain his composure. “You could say that,” he said, humming a stirring song as he powered up his horn again.
Shawn adjusted the strap holding the large quiver on his back, in his left hand was a bow larger than even himself. The bow was made simply, with no carvings or intricate design. It started thicker near the top before thinning to a point near the bottom of the shaft, resulting in a spike at the bottom to impale enemies in close combat. The bowstring was made of an unknown material. The arrows were large, bigger than a spear, nearly the size of a lance in the point. Rather than his usual garb, he was wearing simple clothes: a gold shirt with a pair of jeans. Mentally he was figuring out exactly where he was going to test it, but for now he was just making his way to the top of the wall, facing the direction that had already been cleared of workers and was mostly empty.
Pushing open the doors, he arrived at the top of the wall, where a few guards were placed on watch. Those that were of the original groups gave Shawn a rather shocked stare for a few moments before they returned to their patrols along the wall. The newer members simply stared curiously at the human.
One of them turned to talk to one of the others. “I thought the Princesses sent the humans home?”
“Not yet,” Shawn called out as he continued to where he wanted to test the bow. “One day.”
“Then where are you staying?” Another new Pony asked in shock. “We thought we knew where everypony was rooming.”
“We’ve been here the whole time,” Shawn said, acting confused.
“Private! That's no way to talk to the hero of the Battle of Canterlot!” Black Rook shouted as he approached the group. “Show some respect!”
The recruit stiffened. “Yes, Sergeant Major,” the private shouted with respect.
“Now listen closely. The original, and still standing, orders of the units posted at this fort are to see to the safety and security of the human visitors until such a time as they may be sent home. They are generally happiest in their own company, and keep to themselves, but when they choose to show themselves, you will treat them as a commanding officer. You will do as ordered, and you will not ask questions. Information regarding the humans is highly classified. Is that understood?”
“Understood, Sergeant Major.” The Private saluted.
“Well, with that,” a familiar voice spoke up as Silver Spear joined his fellow officer. “What new weapons do you have to show off now, Lord Shawn?”
“A greatbow.” Shawn lifted said bow in his left hand. “Basically, it’s a bow that is much bigger, requires more strength to use, causes the arrows to travel farther, and can do more than penetrate a target. It’s entirely possible for it to tear the limb off as well.”
“So,” Silver Spear started, “only a Minotaur or human could use it? Or maybe a Unicorn?”
“You just need the strength to pull the bowstring back,” Shawn replied before holding it out. “How far do you think you could pull it back?”
“So, may I try then? Or...” Silver Spear grinned. “How about the Privates? We should have them try first.” The grin turned diabolical as he eyed the Private that had spoken out of turn earlier.
The Private smiled nervously as the others looked at her. “I’ll … give it my best?”
Shawn simply turned it upright before planting the bow into the stone beneath them using the pointed end. “Go for it.”
The private, an Earth Pony, walked up to the bow and looked it over before putting a hoof forward and pulling the string back. He was barely able to string it back to five inches, being too short to even get the large spear-like arrow fully drawn.
“At least you got it to move. A for effort,” Shawn commented. “Anyone else?”
Silver Spear nodded and lit his horn as he drew the string back with his magic. The string twitched and vibrated in his magical aura as he struggled to pull it back and nock the arrow. He was nearly able to seat the arrow before the string protested and snapped back, breaking from his control as he staggered back with crossed eyes.
To his credit, Black Rook didn’t mock his fellow soldier’s misfortune. He took a moment to look over the bow before he rotated his forehooves and cracked his neck. He grabbed the string, and with a grunt and a great exertion of effort, he managed to pull the string back. The veins in his head bulged from the stress as he worked to seat the arrow. Just as he was about to get it right, he lost his grip, and the arrow made a short arch from the bow before landing on the ground. It had traveled a distance of all of about two feet during its short time in the air.
“Nicely done. Now, shall I show you the full force of the bow?” Shawn asked as he reclaimed and shifted the bow, aiming at a tree in the distance. He widened his stance a bit before grabbing one of the arrows and pulling the drawstring back with ease. After a moment of adjustment he let go. The bowstring snapped back into place, launching the arrow into the distance. The spear-like missile proceeded to carve a straight deadly path at surprising speed. With a thunderous sound the head impacted into the hide of the tree and proceeded to drill on through until half the shaft seemed to vanish inside the trunk before it stopped, the arrow looked large enough to be another branch as it hung out parallel to the ground.
The Private and others stared, wide-eyed. One Gryphon Slayer who had landed moments before the missile was released was gaping. “I wish we had those against some of the Gryphon forts.”
“Now, imagine what it could do if I modify the arrows with some other materials, perhaps explosive materials?”
“Under siege or doing the sieging, either way, having a bow like that would change the entire theater,” Rook noted.
“Downside though is, as you all learned, it takes quite a bit of force to actually use this. For now, these bows are more of a personal project, but I might look into making some that you all can actually use easier later.”
“That reminded me of the time I tried to fire Grif’s bow,” Rook noted. “Except that was a lot easier, and it didn’t almost kill me.”
Shawn shrugged. “Just the way things are, eh?”
“I’ve been here since the beginning. Hay, I’ve been on a trip with Taze in the middle of winter. Very little surprises me anymore.”
“I’ll have to test that one of these days, hmm?”
“Whatever you say, sir.”
Moments later everyone but Shawn jumped as an arrow of glowing blue magic shot from inside the fortress to land at Shawn's feet. As the light dissipated, a note fell to the ground in front of him.
Shawn looked down at the letter. “Huh, haven’t gotten mail like that in awhile,” he said as he picked up the parchment.
Hammer Strike,
Gather Grif, Pensword, and Vital Spark, and meet me in my study.
Clover the Clever
P.S. why does nopony send message by arrow anymore?
“Welp,” he said, pocketing the letter. “I’m off. Got to get a few individuals for something,” he finished with a wave as he made his way towards his office.
Pensword stood in the study as he looked to Hammer Strike, Grif, and Vital. For what had once been such a blank room, it was surprising how quickly Clover had optimized the space, shelving all of her personal belongings, including several that had been hidden throughout the castle in various hidden rooms. Books, scrolls, tomes, grimoires, and other sources of knowledge, both arcane and historical, would have caused the shelves to sag were it not for her magic sustaining the wood.
A rune stone glowed on a large table, projecting a model of the planet and its two celestial bodies as they circled, along with a pair of glowing lines signifying the power moving them across the skies. A historical tome lay open on the surface with multiple spell books for comparison, along with several neat notes and cross references that had been written in on the margins and other notes that had been stuck there by a spell so they would remain with their material. Considering when she had taken this space for her own, it had been a small closet-like room without furniture, the things she had done would likely be deemed impossible to most Equestrians unfamiliar with The Doctor, so to say that she had somehow expanded the room into a massive two story study was an impressive feat was an understatement.
“So … what is this about? You do know that I do not like cloak and daggers, right? I am the one that should be doing that kind of stuff.” One couldn’t be sure if Pensword was joking or not.
“Dunno.” Hammer Strike shrugged. “Clover just wanted us here.”
“And if she wants it, you don’t say no,” Vital Spark said adamantly.
“I know; I know. Mages,” he added in irritation.
“And we would qualify as?” Grif raised an eyebrow as he toyed with a small wind ball in his hand. Vital was carefully crafting a snowball in his hooves, and Hammer Strike’s eyes flashed with temporary blue fire.
“My point stands,” Pensword muttered with annoyance as he tried to ignore the laughter his mother and grandmother both were giving him. However, just for a split second, it seemed to get fuzzy, like static breaking a connection in a phone call before returning to normal.
“It’s not like you can’t do it either. You’ve just been choosing not to,” Hammer Strike said.
“And I have been a little busy. You say it is dangerous and deadly, and I tempt fate enough as is. Unless I have to learn this, I am happy being the general.”
“I said it’s deadly if you mess with it without knowing anything about it. Thus the reason for the book I’ve been translating.”
“And how goes the translation?” Pensword asked with a cool tone.
“Quite well.”
With a pop Clover appeared inside the room. “Sorry about that. I had some trouble getting into the Starswirl the Bearded section of the library.”
“Why would you have trouble with that?” Vital Spark asked, surprised.
“Because apparently the guard assigned to guard duty wasn’t at the gala, and therefore wouldn’t believe who I was.”
“You have the letter from Luna, right? Shouldn’t my documents have done something?” Pensword asked as he grumbled. “I am going to have too overhaul the Guards as well. My entire career is going to be spent rebuilding this military.”
“Either way, I’m glad you all could make it,” Clover noted. “It’s taken me a while to figure out a way to test your particular brand of magic.”
“Fun fact, not technically magic,” Hammer Strike commented. “Kind of figured that out … technically recently.”
“Well either way, I’ve worked out a test that will indicate the potential energy field for each of you. It’s more of a general test than the usual one because it doesn’t just pick up mana, but I’m hoping, with a few alterations to it, that will help narrow things down.”
“Just as long as there’s no accidental head exploding,” Vital joked.
“I haven’t accidentally exploded a head since I was twelve years old, I’ll have you know,” Clover huffed.
Pensword saw the look on Vital’s muzzle and grinned. “That’s a better track record than some mage schools I heard about a thousand years ago.” A twitch and frown crossed his mind, a tick that those in the know knew meant that Matthew was not happy with Pensword’s words.
Somewhere in Unity, Lunar Fang got the strange feeling she would have buffeted Pensword with a wing just now.
“Now I need one of you to enter the marked area,” she said, indicating a series of black charcoal lines that had been drawn on the floor.
Pensword surprised his friends with the sudden jerky move before he finished walking along the rich wood floor grumbling in Draconic. He turned to face Clover once inside the marked area. “Do I need to spread my wings or something?”
“Just stand there,” she said. “First a basic Equestrian reading.” With these words, her horn glowed. The blue light illuminated the room for a moment before fading. “You have the same Equestrian magical field as a low beta level Unicorn.”
Pensword raised a wing in confusion. “That… sounds a little high for a Pegasus Thestral.”
“Now then,” Clover said, concentrating again as a layer of magic covered her horn, then a second, then a third. The room was filled with a positively blinding blue light this time. After it faded, she nodded. “With this test, you have the entire energy readout of a mid-level beta Unicorn,” she noted.
“That ... sounds interesting,” Pensword answered as he blinked away the light. “Well, I am going to find my spot now, unless you need to run more tests.” The tone has shifted to one of tired acceptance. It would seem Matthew had been given a little leeway to speak.
“Alright,” she said. “Next?”
“Batter up,” Vital said, chuckling as he stepped forward.
Clover proceeded once again with the standard test, noting with a bit of surprise that Vital only scored a theta level. However, at the second test her eyes seemed to bulge a bit. “That’s quite a boost,” she noted.
“What do you mean?” Vital asked.
“Your entire energy output is on par, if not slightly exceeding that of Commander Pensword as a mid-beta level Unicorn.”
“So I’d pretty much be a weak Unicorn if it weren’t for the field giving me a boost?”
“I think,” Clover admitted. “The data is still only based on the modified test I made.”
“Step aside, my friend.” Grif chuckled as he moved to the spot while Vital took his place. “Let's see how this turns out for a Gryphon.”
“Yes, cross species data will help me figure out the full accuracy of the test.” Clover nodded. When Grif was in place, she ignited her horn. She grinned a bit as the light faded. “The same magical potential as a high beta level Unicorn. Not bad,” she noted.
When she performed the second test rather than the light dieing, there was a loud bang as it almost seemed to pop out of existence. The end of Clover’s horn was smoking. “Grif, you're giving off the same energy output as an alpha plus level Unicorn.”
“Well, I do exercise it every day,” Grif noted. “Like a muscle, the more you use, the more you gain.”
“Yeah, yeah, get over yourself,” Clover chuckled. She looked to Hammer Strike. “Guess it’s just you.”
“Let’s see what I am, shall we?” Hammer Strike commented moving to the indicated spot.
“Okay, first the standard test,” Clover noted as she once again performed it. “Wow. Your raw equestrian magic is on par with Grif’s full energy output.”
Hammer Strike hummed aloud. “Huh, that’s actually a bit odd…”
This time when Clover performed the second test there was a small explosion, knocking her back as her horn glowed an angry red. “Oh my,” was all she could say between coughs.
Hammer Strike made his way over to her. “You alright?”
“Yes, but your energy output is massive, more than Princess Cadence, and she’s an Alicorn.”
“Uhh, you’re positive?” Hammer Strike asked, his tone shifting to uncertainty.
“Even with a base margin for error, I’d say that yes, yes I am.”
“Doesn’t help that I have two magical fields trapped inside the thaumic one, being Celestia and Luna’s…”
“Yes, that would do it as well.” Clover nodded.
“Well, at least we have this bit of info down for each of us,” Hammer Strike commented.
“So what does it do for us?” Vital asked.
“It’s better to go on a journey knowing from where you started than to just start on a journey,” Clover said. “One of Starswirl’s better, if more confusing, quotes.”
“A journey is fun, but we need to have the start and the end, so we have a frame to even adventure in,” Pensword added with a grin. “However, I am concerned. This test just seems like we are too high up in rank. It doesn't feel right.”
“Well for you two,” she said, gesturing to Vital and Pensword, “I don’t see the logic behind that. At your current level, Commander, you could be overwhelmed by the amatuer spellwork of a kindergarten class a week into the semester.”
“Understood,” Pensword answered looking actually relieved at that. “Then again… with how we teach the Unicorns today, I could probably break free of that quickly.”
“Um, does that mean I’m going to have to focus on defensive magic next?” Vital asked.
“We’ll be covering that in the group classes,” Clover assured him. “There are defensive ice spells as well, but you’re not ready for those yet.”
“I’ll need you to teach me how to use my focus in a fight, too,” Vital mused. “Ever since I made it, I’ve hardly had to use it.”
“You mean you haven’t been casting the spells I taught you through your focus when you’ve been practicing without me around?” Clover was a little shocked.
“No. I thought you just wanted me to focus on casting with my horn,” he said honestly.
“When you were with me. So I could concentrate on how you were casting the spell,” she said as if it should have been the most obvious thing in the world.
“Well, I didn’t know that.” He sighed and shrugged. “In case you didn’t know, Clover, I’m the kind of person that requires specific instructions, and more often than not, a little bluntness.”
“Well then from now on practice with your focus. You should find it easier to direct and charge spells with it.”
“Sort of like training wheels while I build up the ability to cast spells just as strongly using my horn alone? I mean, I know I can’t always rely on it. I’m not saying I’ll never use it,” he clarified.
“And when you need to let your horn cool off, or you're suffering cool down? What if you run out of stamina or find yourself against anti magic? Your focus is a form of self defense as well as a magical amplifier.
“A focus can defend against anti magic?” Vital asked, surprised.
“In the old fashioned way,” she said, summoning her focus and spinning the mace end before bringing it down on an empty table, reducing it to splinters. “It is more difficult to separate a Unicorn from his or her focus. Most anti magic can’t disrupt the telepathy used to hold it.”
“And yet another useful fact,” Vital said. Then he grinned. “Guess that means I’ll be spending a few late nights these next couple of days.”
“Good,” Pensword said with a nod of approval.
“Late to bed, early to rise, makes you able to kick butt and take names,” Grif added.
Vital chuckled. “Anything else to add, oh fearless leader?” he asked with a facetious grin and a bow to Hammer Strike.
“Nope.”
Pensword smiled. “Well, I do have one thing.” He waited for Vital and the others to look at him. “I want you to be the United States Equestrian Expert. When we get back, you are to give the government all the information that is available to normal everyday citizens of this kingdom, am I understood?” He was smiling now. “You are going to be tapped by all the future presidents,” Pensword said. A playful tone had taken the place of his more stalwart military manner. “You will be the expert on extrauniversal life, and what you say will carry weight. And the best part? You are outside of the beltway.”
“The what?” Vital asked.
“You … you don’t know what the Beltway is? DC. Your nation's capital? Surrounded by a ribbon of roadways that circle it?”
“I had absolutely no idea that’s what it was called,” Vital said with a shrug. “By the way, glad to hear a little more of you, Matt.” He smiled.
“Well, I need someone to be smart about all this. You know how I will act. You know Shawn, the Princesses, and others. You cannot just let those two parties create the policy. You will be there to craft it as well.”
“Policy?”
The minds of Pensword and Matthew both brought the facehoof. Matthew fought forward first. “That is what every single presidency uses to…. How can...? I mean, you and.… WHAT DO THEY TEACH IN AMERICAN SCHOOLS?” That shout came from Pensword. “What I am trying to say is, policy is how nations respond and act towards each other. Last I knew, the US had a policy of being hard on any military buildup against Taiwan, and that it was used to help protect the DMZ, the special relationship between the UK and America. All of that is policy and actions, and you will need to craft it so the Earth does not trod upon our rights and privileges, or try to dictate what we do.”
“How would they even begin to manage that when they can’t even get here?”
“If you are going to have this debate, can you leave? I have important arcane research to do, you know,” Clover cut in.
“Oh yeah. Right.” Vital chuckled, embarrassed. “Sorry, Clover. Was there anything else you needed us for?”
“No, you can go. In fact, I insist upon it.”
Pensword did his best to hide the smile of relief on his muzzle as he made his way out of Clover’s lab.
“See you at class tomorrow,” Vital said by way of farewell, and then he, too, was gone.
Grif had appointed several aids towards the upkeep and record keeping of the Bladefeatehr clan, but as clan leader it was still expected of him to review everything presented at least once a month. He’d decided rather then spending the day in his office surrounded by stacks of paperwork, he would have each of his aids comprise all pertinent information in a report no longer of two pages, which he could then read while taking a walk or something. This is what he was now doing as he walked down through the housing area of the Bladefeather compound while scanning the current report on the clan’s legal and economic areas. He was pleasantly surprised to find that the clan was beginning to turn in a small profit.
Despite the communal mess hall, several families had acquired their own cooking equipment, and had begun to cook their own meals from home. Others had gone so far as to set up small stands, which, as Grif looked around, he could see patrons of not only other clan members, but guards and their families from Unity. The Thestrals had become fond of several Gryphon dishes, it would seem, and were becoming quite a fixture in the developing marketplace that was the path between houses.
It was when he switched to the population reports that Grif became concerned, not because more than half the female warriors had put in requests for maternity leave; that fact was a good thing. The clan was already starting to expand. No, what bothered him was when he found Chesire had been on sick leave since the day after the dedication, and she hadn’t been contacted in a week.
Grif raised his head and checked the identifiers that had been set up for the housing settlements, and ever-so-slightly changed his course so he’d cross her currently-assigned quarters while he did his work. And so, half an hour later, he found himself knocking on her door.
“Chesh? Cat, are you okay in there?” he called out. When he received no response, he proceeded to pick the lock and let himself in. Moving carefully from the entrance area to the main hall, he steeled himself for what he might find.
The room was surprisingly large and spacious. A great mantle hung over a roaring fireplace. Above the mantle, a giant mirror reflected back at him, showing the room at a diagonal slant. On either end of the mantle, two bookends shaped and painted like a grinning tabby cat with purple stripes and a lavender coat stared out. A tea tray had been set up on a little circular coffee table. The tea pot’s lid lid was a large milliner’s top hat with a great golden buckle. The jam was held in a porcelain mouse whose upper body had been removed. A butter knife hung from the lip, its edges covered in the sticky purple substance. The sugar bowl was surprisingly tall and thin, more like a cup than a bowl, with a painted suit and tweed jacket. The grinning hare stared ahead with an eye caught in mid-twitch, its head just slightly off kilter. The tea cups were all painted to look like the bottoms of little dresses, each in a different color, but following the same design.
Over on a large and comfortable chair by the fire, Grif could make out the pile of equipment that was Cheshire’s weapons and armor. Strange. She’d always seemed so respectful of it before, but the scratches on it seemed to imply either a gross lack of regard for the metal, or possibly frustration taken out on the plating via her talons. A record was playing over to the side next to a tall book shelf with a familiar, playful tune filled with nonsense words. A white rug had been cast next to the fire for those who would prefer to lie down and get warm, rather than sit on the chairs provided. The room itself proved to be … remarkably neutral in its style and color, practically mundane, which was a strange surprise.
All of this came secondary to Grifs mind, however, as he locked onto the source of his breaking and entering. Cheshire was standing in front of the fire, staring into the flames. Naturally, the fire, for its part, threw rich red and yellow light onto the Gryphoness, giving her a distinct look. With her back to him it was impossible to fail to notice the familiar bulge in her abdomen located in roughly the same area where Avalon and Shrial currently had their own.
“Cheshire?” Grif said, somewhat shocked.
There was a brief moment where Chesire went rigid. Her hairs stood on end, much like a cat. When she seemed to calm down, it still took a long time before she turned around to acknowledge her clan leader.
“Grif…” she said pensively. “I didn’t hear you come in”
“Cheshire … what am I seeing?” Grif asked, taking some time to gather his words.
“I’d figured by now you’d be aware of this,” she said.
“Yes, but i believe I deserve at least some sort of explanation,” Grif noted. His mind was racing as it tried to decide how he should feel. Cheshire was his friend, and he was worried for her, but part of him suspected some sort of betrayal to Kel’leams memory while yet another part totally vetoed that idea.
“Well .… That is to say….” She seemed to need a moment to collect her thoughts before she finally exhaled. “Grif, I’m carrying Kel’leam’s bastard. I have been since that night at the Farflyer banquet.”
Grif surprised them both when he let out what sounded like a relieved sigh. “Considering these things don’t happen by accident for our species,” Grif noted, “I think I’m still going to need some backstory here.”
Cheshire let out a groan. “It started a while back before we met you, Grif. I met Kel’leam not long after he came to Equestria and joined the Ogre’s Eye. At that time… well, I was young and full of hormones. One moment I was itching for a fight, and the next I was certain I was going to die. Kel’leam was always there whispering words of encouragement to me. Eventually things changed between us. One night before a battle we were both so plagued with wondering if either of us was going to be alive the next evening… we came to an arrangement, a tryst of sorts that gave us both some comfort from the violence that surrounded our way of life. At some point that blossomed into something more, but as you know, neither of us ever confessed anything. After the Black Tips attacked that night at the Farflyer compound, I realized I wanted a legacy to leave Kel’leam should anything happen to me, and a piece of him should anything happen to him.” She chuckled bitterly. “Chalk one up to foresight, huh? The night while you were feasting in the hall, the clan leader had food and drink sent to those of us still back at camp. I drank. Kel’leam drank. I drank more; he drank more. Finally things heated up, and I did something stupid.”
“And why did you hide this? Why didn’t you tell me?” Grif asked.
“You're not like most clan leaders, Grif, but I still didn’t know how different. You know how this kind of thing is seen amongst our kind. I’d hoped I could hide for the time needed, give birth to my cub, and then raise him in secret until he was old enough to sneak him in as my apprentice.”
Grif put a talon to his face. “You should have told me, Cheshire. Even if I cared what our culture says about this sort of thing, Kel’leam was like a brother to me.”
There was a long silence between them as Chesire did her very best to find a crack in her floor. For the first time, she was expressing the one emotion Grif had never attributed to her: shame. Finally Grif broke the silence.
“You're going to need an increase in pay, and an aid of some kind for the next few months. Oh, Winds, Kel’leam was huge!” he gasped. “And look at you! You’re as big as Shrial, and she’s carrying twins and nearly ready to give birth. I need to send for a doctor. We need to get you checked out.”
“Grif, what are you talking about?” she looked at him. “If this goes public, I’ll be shunned.”
“Like Tartarus you will,” Grif snapped back. “Kel’leam may be entombed in Gryphelheim, but he is a hero of this clan, and you’re carrying his heir.” He let out a frustrated groan. “This is going to be so much paperwork. It would be so much easier if he had family to approve this.”
“Grif, slow down. You’re not making a lot of sense.”
“Kel’leam was as good as my brother to the clan, Chesire, and you're carrying the only heir to his bloodline. I guess an official document would do. As you're both Bladefeathers, there is no need to give you his name. Don’t give me that confused look, Cheshire. The Code of Clans clearly dictates that a Gryphoness may be named the wife of a warrior after his death if they died in battle and the female is carrying the only living heir.”
“That's never a popular move,” Cheshire pointed out.
“I think the clan will forgive me,” Grif said. “Get yourself down to Kalima. I’ll send for Zecora and have her make sure you're healthy. Hurry up, Cat. I have a lot to do,” he said, practically dragging Cheshire out of the room.
94 - Three Warriors, A Mage, and a Warship: Roll for Initiative!
Extended Holiday Ch 94: Three Warriors, A Mage, and a Warship: Roll for Initiative! Act 13
Pensword sat at his desk as he looked over letters and clippings from newspapers dealing with the military and the opinions of the nation. He was happy to see Preston doing so well in assembling and presenting this briefing so efficiently. He looked at the clock, knowing in five minutes a reporter and photographer would be entering this office to conduct an interview, or in the worst case scenario, a witch hunt.
Finally there was a knock at his door.
Pensword put the file he was reading back into the folder and closed it.
“Enter,” he shouted, knowing that Lunar Fang had been out in the front office. He looked to the paintings of Celestia, Luna, Cadence, and Twilight hanging on the wall as the door opened.
Preston saluted before taking three strict paces forward. “Sir, a Mister Headliner and a Mister Quick Snap are here to see you.”
“Send them in,” Pensword replied. He eyed Preston’s military uniform, happy to see that it fit the Grey Pegasus disguise. “And if you could please join us, Preston, it would be most appreciated. I need someone to take minutes for this meeting.”
“Of course, Sir,” Preston replied with a crisp salute before returning to retrieve the guests.
Two pegasi entered the office, followed by Preston, who quietly shut the door behind them. The first was small and skinny with a deep brown coat and a bright red mane. He wore an ID badge on a lanyard across his neck. Next to him was a taller steel-grey pegasus with a purple mane and tail. He wore a camera around his neck, and his badge poked out from a side pocket in his saddle bag with some magnifiers and flash attachments that were too bulky to remain within the pockets.
“Hello, Commander.”
“Hello, Mister Headliner, Mister Quick Snap. Please, sit down.” Pensword stood and shook hooves with the two Pegasi, then beckoned to a pair of chairs that had been set up before his desk. He then proceeded to sit down in his own chair. “Now. As you two know, you have a thirty minute window for this interview and photo op. For the sake of our records, please state the city and paper you represent.”
“The Whinnypeg Sun,” Headline stated, “Whinnypeg.”
“Welcome to New Unity then, Mister Headliner. So I know what it is that you said you were going to talk about when you scheduled this meeting, so shall we begin?”
“We couldn’t help but notice Lord Hammer Strike was loading his airship with supplies. Could we get a statement on that?” Headliner asked.
“Certainly. We originally acquired the vessel in Gryphonia, and used it to transport ourselves from the Gryphon Empire. From there, we took the ship to and from the gala with a nice big breakfast onboard. As you can imagine, a ship that size needs a sizable crew to run it. To put it simply, the vessel needs to be restocked periodically with supplies, fitted out for travel, things that you normally do when you purchase a new air yacht or some other larger vessel. You simply make it your own.”
“Some ponies feel that Lord Hammerstrike has been given too much liberty in forming a military for himself when Equestria itself has no military at this time. Is there anything you’d say to help clear up this misunderstanding?”
“Yes, the misunderstanding is that you think Hammer Strike is keeping these troops. True enough, he will have a small honor guard; however, as the military experts are all here, and he happens to be one of them, Hammer Strike will be a crucial piece in training and mobilizing the new Equestrian Military. As it stands, when the bill is signed and authorized, a large portion of the troops we have here, who used to be washouts I might add, will be redeployed to various posts throughout the Solar and Lunar Courts to form the backbone of the Equestrian Military.”
“But there have been reports of Kitsune and Horses visiting New Unity, and Hammer Strike’s connection with the Gryphon clan known as the Bladefeathers has caused some concern.”
“What the Sultan of the Saddle Arabians does, or the Kitsune do, is their own concern. As for the Bladefeathers, are you insinuating that he is unable to maintain friendships and contact with the only Gryphon who fought on our side during the Third Gryphon War? Are you willing to actually question the wisdom of Princess Celestia in giving the Bladefeathers her official seal of approval as a clan in Equestria?”
“It‘s merely suspicious that Lord Hammer Strike has built up such a sizable force after fixing up what could be considered a fully functional war fortress.”
“Let me put it to you this way, Headliner. If Hammer Strike were to do something along those lines, then I would be bound by my oath of office from over a thousand years ago to wage a coup within these walls. High Chieftess Luna would be bound by oath and honor to lay siege to, and conquer, this fortress. You are talking about Celestia’s Ghost, the Mighty Smith as the bards called him a thousand years ago. The day he uses those troops to wage war against the nation he gave blood, life, and Faust knows how mnay years to, would be the same day that Discord becomes Harmony, the day Celestia and Luna turn into non-alicorns, and Tirek returns to plunge us into darkness. I understand the worry the populace can feel, and the letters that you might be getting, but I swore allegiance to the crown and country. I will fight against any who would take a blade up against this nation, be they friend or foe.”
“Very well,” Headliner said as he finished writing Pensword’s words on a small note pad he had produced. “There have been some accusations of the use of weaponry that some would call unethical. What is your response to these allegations?”
“Weaponry? Unethical?” Pensword asked, giving a confused look. “I have gone through the laws and treaties myself. I have to in my position. All the weapons we utilize most definitely fall under the legal side of the law. As for unethical, to my knowledge, anything we have used so far to defend ourselves has been ethical and proper for the enemy in question.”
“Okay.” Headliner nodded as he finished writing. “Is there anything you’d like to leave off with for our readers?”
Pensword paused as he heard the shutter click a few times, slower than Matthew remembered about moments like this. “Yes. The Future is as bright as you make it. I plan to be the scout on the cloud to protect those dreams from those that would seek to destroy them or the means to achieve them. I want Equestria to stand for another thousand years, and even longer.”
“Thank you, Commander,” Headliner said. “Now if we could just get another quick photo for the article?”
“Of course.” Pensword stood and motioned for Headliner to do the same.
Headliner did so as Quick Snap prepared his camera. When he had directed pensword in the position he wanted, he snapped the picture, and the two Pegasi were led out of the office by preston.
The bell rang on the door to Carousel Boutique as two sets of hooves clopped through. Rarity’s ear twitched, and she smiled pleasurably as she made her way towards the counter. “Welcome to Carousel Boutique, where every garment is chique, unique, and magnifique. What can I do for you today?”
“Hello, Lady Rarity,” a skinny brown Pegasus said. Rarity eyed the lanyard and note pad knowingly, even as the companion pulled out his camera. “My associate and I here were just wondering if we could ask a few questions for the Whinnypeg Sun?”
“Questions? Why, whatever for, darling?” Rarity asked sweetly as she batted her eyelashes.
“We’re doing an article on the current happenings in and around New Unity after the announcement by Princess Luna at the gala,” Head Liner explained.
“Happenings, you say? Well, I suppose I am a regular at the castle. All the guards come to me for armor and ceremonial designs, along with the occasional fashion piece, and I do collaborate with Hammer Strike on a regular basis. What would you like to know?”
“For starters, we heard that congratulations are in order. Care to explain how Hammer Strike swept you off your hooves?”
Rarity blushed and pawed a hoof on the floor as she looked to the side. “Well, that’s a rather long and complicated story.”
“How long has your relationship with Hammer Strike been going on?”
“You mean the whole time I’ve known him, or when we officially started dating?”
“When you started dating.”
“Well, that’s a bit of a difficult question. I’m not exactly certain when the friendship ended and the dating began. It all just sort of crept up on us, really,” she said as she rolled up her measuring tape and returned it to its place on one of her tool shelves. “I will admit, at first the attraction was more because of the fact he was a lord, and held some standing in the community, not to mention that devilishly handsome figure,” she praised. “But as time passed, I got to know Hammer Strike for the Pony behind the lord. He’s courteous, kind, loyal to a fault, and would do anything to help someone in need. I suppose that may have been what really helped us to connect,” she mused as she tapped a pondering hoof against her chin.
“I imagine you must have some big plans for the wedding. Anything that our readers can expect to hear about?”
“Now now. A bride mustn't reveal her secrets too soon,” Rarity chided with a wink. “But needless to say, the celebration will definitely be one to remember.”
“Okay. Now to more serious matters. There’s been a notable concern stated about the privileges given to Hammer Strike and the military power he’s amassed since his return. What are your thoughts on these statements?”
Rarity laughed. “Why on Equis should anyone be concerned? Hammer Strike is the greatest defender, not only of our nation, but also of the Crystal Empire. He could defeat the Equestrian military on his own with a hoof tied behind his back back when it was at its peak, and he could still dispatch them within a few minutes. If he had any negative designs, I assure you, he would have executed them by now.”
“And your thoughts on the troops from other races Lord Hammer Strike has acquired?”
Rarity shrugged. “Mercenaries to help train, and forces created as boons for deeds done in the past. It’s nothing all that unusual, dearies,” she said as she levitated a tea set in. “Would either of you care for some tea?”
They both shook their heads. “If we could just get a picture for the article, maybe with the ring?” Head Liner asked.
“Certainly, darlings. Though I’m surprised you haven’t asked Hammer Strike. He probably could have answered most of your questions just as easily,” she said as she levitated the box over and mounted the ring on her horn.
The two of them looked at each other, but said nothing. After a few adjustments, Quick Snap nodded with approval as he took his picture and complimented the mare on being so photogenic.
“Well, a girl does have to try her best.” Rarity giggled just as the CMC walked in. She squealed with delight. “Oh, could I get a picture taken with my sister and her friends? Please?”
The four fillies’ eyes widened with delight at the suggestion, and they quickly crowded around Rarity, joining the power of their cuteness to Rarity’s charm. After spending a good five minutes reviving Quick Snap and Head Liner, the photo was taken, and the two news Ponies left with coupons for a free fitting and a half off special on the design of their choice.
Pensword walked through the doors and into the dark coolness of the establishment. “Hello, Berry. How are you doing today?” He asked as he walked up to the bar. He casually looked around. The place was silent and empty.
“Pretty good. Yourself?” Berry asked as she worked on cleaning a glass.
“I am happy to hear that. Things have been … all right on our end,” he replied as he settled in at the stool. “So … how has business been since we left?” he asked with a pang of guilt. “I–” he paused. “Well, I have to say I miss my time staying here.”
“It’s been slow, but steady,” Berry said. “We’re keeping our heads above water.”
“Do you need me to help? Rent out a floor? Pay for you to cater drinks? I mean, well, that is, I might be trying to come back here more often. Catch up on rumors and what is going on in town, that sort of thing. Also ... I am warning you. You’ll get more reporters coming in soon, and … I would be willing to pay for any information you might overhear.”
Berry Punch laughed. “Don’t worry too much, Pensword. We’ll be fine. It’s not like the banks are going to foreclose on an inn their owner thinks highly of.”
“I never bet on luck. I like to stack the deck when I can,” Pensword replied. “Still, I am rebuilding a lot. Also, did Cheerilee ever get over that fact we have Changelings nearby?”
“She’ll live,” Berry said, laughing. “Cheery’s always been a bit high strung. It’s no big deal.”
“Yeah. I have vague memories about when Matthew….” he trailed off for a time. “Berry, when the next few months are done, I would like to return to talking about the history of the United States, starting from the beginning. I want to become just as skilled a storyteller as Grif or Taze are.”
“Just let me know,” Berry said. “I’ll get everything ready.”
“I would like that.” Pensword sighed as he looked over at the piano. “Would you mind?” he asked, motioning to the instrument with a hoof.
“Well that's definitely the first time an adult’s asked like that. Sure. Go ahead. I mean, it’s not like there’s anyone in this early you could chase out anyway.”
“Right. Right,” Pensword said distantly as he moved to sit at the piano bench and looked at the keys, then his hooves, before placing them on the white keys. He paused, giving Matthew the chance to pick the song. As he played, a small smile began to creep up on his muzzle. The scenes of a car chase, a running train, bullwhips and fedora caps raced across his mind.
“Wow,” Berry complimented. “That was pretty good.”
“You think so? I missed a few notes, and it was a little fast in some parts and slower in others, but thank you for the compliment. It has been ages since I have played.” He trailed off as another idea came to him. “Well, that would be an interesting one,” he muttered as he moved to play his next piece. This one was more slow and reserved, and brought to mind the cold void of empty space filled with asteroids and a great moon that fired a powerful beam of what appeared to be concentrated changeling magic. Matthew quickly clarified that it was a separate energy source, but just as powerful.
“I didn’t realise you had time to learn the piano during the war.”
“I didn’t. I was warned that I would get some quirks when I, well…” he paused as he looked to Berry. “You know who I am as well, right?” he asked as the tempo and beat changed into something a little more upbeat. “This is from Matthew.”
“Well it’s coming through very well.”
“Thank you.” Pensword stumbled a little, showing just how difficult it was to talk and play at the same time. “Still, I am going to need to keep this skill alive. If I don’t use it, I will lose it.” As he finished, he changed to an entirely new piece. it felt almost like a fight was building between two sides.
“Maybe you need to get a piano for New Unity?”
“I would enjoy that,” Pensword answered as he wrapped things up with a dramatic and triumphant fanfare. “I remember, well, my–his aunt teaching … us? To play the piano.” He spoke as the music kept playing, only to shift into a new piece with a melancholy tone. “I … miss them,” he admitted after he’d finished the piece. Silence reigned as he struggled to hold back the tears.
“What’s wrong?” Berry asked.
“To me, it has been almost thirty years since I, that is, since Matthew has seen them, his family. I miss them. I cannot think of them without seeing them as creatures of this world, creatures that could be my–” He couldn’t bring himself to say it. “I need to see them soon, or they will become little more than Equines to me, and thus to Matthew. He’s scared.” He sighed. “I … I am sorry. I am talking your ears off. Do you have any requests?”
“Not really.” Berry shrugged. “Not one for piano music normally.”
“Then, if you don’t mind, Matthew wants to play a song that has many meanings to him. Would you like to hear it?”
“Sure. Go ahead,” she said, even as she laid a drink on a chaser next to his hooves. “It’s on the house.”
Pensword nodded his head. He took a deep breath before letting it out slowly. Then he began to play.
Ponies and Gryphons spoke in hushed tones as they eyed the training ground. A match that had not been recorded for well over a thousand years was about to take place as Grif tested out a pair of training blades on one side of the ring. Vigilance and Vengeance lay sheathed on a nearby bench, as Grif felt using them for this exercise would be pointless. Across the ground from him, one of the Kitsune, a stocky solid fox with a scar running down the left side of his face that vanished into the top of his training Gi, stood. He had two tails, and grinned in anticipation as he stretched to warm up. A dao, a massive blade with curved end, sat awaiting the touch of its master. He picked it up in his familiar grip, practicing with a few swings before turning to face Grif.
Earlier, Grif had taken some time to talk with the Kitsune party; those that he could speak to anyway. He had asked about weapons and the Kitsune people’s proficiency with them. This conversation had led to questions regarding Grif’s own abilities, which, thanks to some rather loudmouthed young Gryphons within earshot, had led to someone boasting that their most skilled swordsman would never be able to account for Grif’s speed. This had led to an argument, and despite Grif’s best attempts at finding a peaceful solution…. Well, if he had, he wouldn’t be standing across from a Kitsune with a dao preparing for a sparring match now, would he?
“We really don’t need to do this,” Grif attempted one last time.
The warrior simply smiled. “And yet, the wind seems to blow us together. Can we not simply view this as a test of arms between two warriors skilled in their craft?”
“A test of skill between two such as us should never be forced by the idiotic pride of others,” Grif said. “I’d hate to think this came from someone saying something stupid.”
“And what if I just want to fight simply for the sake of the challenge, and this just happens to give me an opportunity?” he asked with a sly wink.
“Fair enough,” Grif said as he sheathed the blades on his back and stood in a waiting pose in the ring.
The Kitsune sheathed his sword. “Then let us begin.” He entered into a crouching stance, and the pair slowly began to circle one another.
Grif nearly laughed at the confused smirks they got, but he was concentrating on his opponent. The two settled into place, and neither of them moved as their eyes locked. Time seemed to slow as they searched each other for an opening. Then on some unseen or unheard signal, the two sides clashed. The sound of steel on steel echoed through the arena as sparks flew. Grif had his blades crossed and locked against the pressing blade of the Kitsune’s dao sword. At first they seemed frozen, but it soon became clear that Grif was starting to lose ground before he seemed to vanish in a cloud of dust. The kitsune responded by slamming his dao behind his back to block a strike. Before he could properly respond, Grif vanished again, and struck from his side; however, the Kitsune managed to use his dao’s massive weight to pull himself out of reach.
Spinning the dao with one hand blade, the Kitsune advanced. Grif had to jump to avoid the edge hitting his paws. Flipping forward in the air, he brought the blades down where the kitsune’s unprotected back had been moments before. The Kitsune, having rolled out of the way, leapt to his feet before charging with his dao raised. Grif brought his blades up in a cross to block the blow. There was a roar that sounded as the slash landed, and while Grif took the strength of the blow well, the power of the slash was so much that the displaced air from the strike had turned into a blade in and of itself, scoring the stone wall behind Grif.
“You really are very skilled,” Grif commented as he held the dao as best he could in his crossed blades.
“I have trained for many years,” the Kitsune grunted. “A chance to fight a warrior who is not of my species is a special treat indeed, especially if it’s an ancient hero. I apologize in advance,” he said as he promptly slid the blade out of the cross and gave Grif a solid kick to the chest and a second to the chin before finishing the backflip and entering into a battle ready stance.
Grif coughed a bit as he got back to his feet and rubbed his chin. “So you want to kick this up a bit, huh?” He asked, retrieving his blades. The air around him picked up into a small gust as he charged, attacking with a flurry of slashes like a swarm of angry, deadly hornets.
Much to his credit, the Kitsune managed to block a fair number of the strikes, though with Grif’s increased speed, it was impossible to block all. Shifting strategically, he took the blows that would be least painful and grit his teeth before diving beneath with his sword outstretched. Assuming he went uninterrupted, it would slide just beneath the Gryphon’s fur without drawing blood while clearly indicating the technical victory.
His sword slid into it’s target with no real effort. It took him a minute to realise there was no resistance before the afterimage faded from existence.
“Not going to be that easy, my friend,” Grif chuckled, standing a couple of feet away, though he was panting slightly.
“One should never assume so,” the warrior agreed. “To do so leads to consequences,” he said, pointing to his scar-streaked eye. “I believe it is your move.”
Grif nodded, taking a moment to take in the situation and the circumstances. Sliding back into bullet time, he charged along the side of the Kitsune’s uninjured eye, kicking up as much dust as he could before taking to the air and circling around to try and get his opponent’s weak side.
The Kitsune waited, his eyes closed against the cloud and wind that had arisen as he twitched his ears to listen for the attack and sniffed with his nose. “We are trained in more than sight, Grif. But I am sure you knew that already,” he said as he raised his sword to block the first blow. Unfortunately, that left him open to the second strike as Grif arced his sword towards his opponent’s belly.
“Yield,” Grif said as the edge of the sword pressed against the Kitsune’s skin. Bits of fur clippings fell from the contact. Grif was panting heavily, but he held firm.
“At last, a worthy opponent.” the Kitsune nodded his assent as he sheathed his sword. “My name is Yao,” he said by way of introduction.
Grif sheathed his own swords. “And I am Grif. You fought well. Had things been more even, you likely would have trounced me.”
“Perhaps, perhaps not. Fate’s funny like that,” Yao said as he extended a paw.
Grif took it and shook. “I have more speed than anyone should be able to brag about. Without it, I doubt I am so skilled as to be a match for you,” Grif said, trying his best to humble himself. “You worked hard for what you have, and you’re many times my own age. It wouldn’t be much of a contest.”
Yao chuckled. “Then perhaps we can teach you a thing or two during your visit to our lands.”
“I look forward too it.” Grif nodded before turning to the crowd. “Okay, everybody. Show’s over! I know at least half of you are still on duty, so move it!”
A series of grumbles passed between troops as losers in the bets passed their bits in while the victors smiled smugly.
“I look forward to learning more of your style, Grif San.” Yao bowed before making his way back towards his company of fellow warriors.
Grif eyed a trio of young Gryphons attempting to move out of sight. “Uh-uh, you three. You caused this mess. I expect the weapon racks shining so brilliantly that the sun gets jealous,” he ordered. “Now get!”
Hammer Strike sat at his desk, quietly translating the book in front of him. His hoof traced over the words as he pulled sentences together and put them into Equestrian. He wouldn’t be writing these chapters, as they were much too dangerous to try. The further into the book he went, the more he would uncover about this power, and just what it was capable of. But it also uncovered dark secrets that taunted his mind, giving him a faint sensation of paranoia.
He paused, pulling his hoof off the page, and sighed. The later chapters described grand feats that could be accomplished, but the risk of each and every one of them outweighed them tenfold. The one that scared him the most though…
...The Primal…
“Watch’a doooooin’?”
Hammer Strike jolted out of his thoughts. He hadn’t heard any hoofsteps. But that was impossible.
This time, a giggle sounded behind him. “Oh, so close. Turn around, silly. Maybe you’ll catch me this time.” The voice was young, energetic, but more playful than mocking, almost as if this were all a game.
Hammer Strike turned to see a grinning foal, no taller than his chest. The young colt had to be one of the most bizarre things he had seen to date. Black and white stood in perfect symmetry. A feathered white wing on his right stood open, while on its opposite, a black Thestral wing extended. His ears were much the same way, each an opposite. The white ear was the same you’d find on any other Pony, while the black ear was tufted and twitched. A single fang stood out from the grin, and two eyes, one red and one blue, stared back with impish delight. The tail seemed constantly in flux. One moment it appeared as bright as the sun, the next as dark and empty as a black hole. A tiny spiral horn rose up from his brow, a mixture of red and gold with the slightest curve.
“Finally! It took you long enough.” The colt giggled again. “You had to find the Primal before you could see me.”
“Knowledge of the Primal has nothing to do with this.” Hammer Strike shook his head. “Now, would you mind explaining just who you are?”
“I’ll give you three questions. Yes or no. Feel free to guess as much as you want. I don’t mind.”
After a moment Hammer Strike frowned. “Fine, I’ll play along. You snuck inside here without so much as a creak of the floorboards, and I get this weird feeling just with you being near. Are you some presence in a similar fashion to Death, just not of the … dead?”
The colt giggled. “Yup! Good job. Death’s my big brother. He’s new to the family, but he’s a lot of fun to tease, especially after you punch him so hard.”
“I don’t mean to be so mean to him. It just happens that way,” Hammer Strike commented before humming. “Given the three yes or no questions, are you someone along the lines of an embodiment of luck?”
“Eww! Luck’s my big sister. No way I’d come from her!” He made a fake retching noise, even as he stuck his tongue out at the idea.
“Didn’t mean it in that sense, but … okay?” Hammer Strike said, confused for the moment. “Related to luck, but you don’t strike me as an opposite. You strike me more as … Chance? You give the idea of fifty fifty.”
The colt’s horn glowed and a bell rang three times in the air before disappearing. “That’s right! Great job.” He grinned. “I’ve been following you guys for ages.”
“Oh boy…” Hammer said, unsure of how to feel. “I’ve gone past seeing Death. Why do I get the feeling there is quite a bit of individuals like the both of you?”
“Our family’s huge!” Chance flew up and spread his hooves as wide as he could manage. “And it’s always growing or shrinking with each new race and world. Pretty cool, huh?”
“Am I just able to see you and Death, or should I feel worried?”
“Yes.”
“Of course. Nothing can be simple.”
Chance shrugged. “I wouldn’t say nothing. It’s fifty-fifty. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be around, and everything would be so boring!”
“Bring a bunch of the family next time. We’ll play poker or some nonsense,” Hammer Strike said, his voice heavy with sarcasm.
Chance gasped. “That’s a great idea!”
“Note to self. Learn to play poker,” Hammer Strike commented softly. “Because knowing my luck … it’ll happen.”
Chance shrugged. “You never know.” Then he smirked. “Then again, I might pull some strings.”
Hammer Strike sighed. “What brings you here, Chance? More than testing strings on if I can see you.”
“You know Pinkie’s Pinkie sense?”
“The base idea of it, yes. Why?”
“Cause I felt a doozie when you were looking over the page,” he said casually. “Heck, my whole family probably felt it. It’s probably part of why I appeared to you.”
“These pages hold information that any normal person would pass up. They list feats of creation and destruction on the level of gods,” Hammer explained. “This book teaches those with this power the way to go against everything ever considered fact.”
“So pretty much the power to chain me.” He frowned. “I don’t like being tied up.”
“Then it’s a good thing that only I can read these pages.”
“Don’t tell my sisters.” Chance shuddered.
“I didn’t want anyone to know. But I guess it’s better to have one know, especially since you can convey the feeling to your siblings. I’ll let you choose who you tell.”
Chance nodded. “So uh, I noticed you’re kinda bored most of the time.” This time a mischievous grin crossed his muzzle, and his voice warped. “Would you like to play a game?”
“What do you got?”
Then the moment passed, and his voice was normal again. “What do you like to play most?”
Pensword smiled as he entered his office. That piano session had been just what he’d needed. He turned to put his cloak up on a rack, then turned back to his desk. He froze when he saw who was sitting in his chair.
Death looked at pensword, lifted a bony hoof, and casually waved.
“Yo.”
Pensword looked down at the floor, checked to make sure his body was still corporeal, then looked back up again. “I am not dead,” he said matter-of-factly.
“Good … for you?” Death said, somewhat confused.
“Well … you are Death, so one does tend to assume…. Is someone close to me going to die soon? Is this a courtesy call?”
“No. Just wanted to be somewhere quiet while my little brother bothers Hammer Strike.” Death Shrugged.
“So my office was the logical choice?” Pensword asked as he moved to sit down in a chair. He did recall that those with the sight could sit in Death’s presence.
“Well, it was deserted,” Death said.
“The lower levels are as well,” Pensword noted. “Or the woods.” His left ear twitched spasmodically as he finally processed the fact that Death had mentioned a brother. “Why are you here? From what I know, my position allows me to ask this question without reprimands from you, Death,” he said in as calm and polite a way he could manage.
“I already answered that,” Death pointed out.
“But why would you need to babysit your brother? Should you and your kin not be able to take care of yourselves?”
“Mom’s very protective of him.”
“Ah, I....” Pensword stopped. Matthew nodded the muzzle in understanding.
“He’s still a kid for the most part.” Death shrugged. “He likes to play around with people.”
“That makes me nervous, to be honest,” Pensword replied. Something was tickling the back of his head, but he wasn’t sure why. “So you finally came to talk to me, or did I finally come to you to talk?”
“Yes,” Death answered.
“I suppose I deserved that answer,” Pensword muttered flatly. He shifted nervously as he realized that if anypony else entered the room, they would see him talking to empty air. He knew that was normal to most of the Ponies, but for some reason, Matthew still felt fear over it. “Why do I feel like you have something to tell me?”
“That must be a weird feeling,” Death said nonchalantly.
“Indeed,” Pensword muttered. “I thought you would be some wise being ready to teach those that have the sight.”
“Yeah. I don’t do that,” Death said.
“I can see that,” Pensword muttered. “Is it because you are scared of me?”
“No, more because I have other things to do.” Death shrugged.
“Good. Then I am not on Death’s radar at this moment.”
Death cracked his bony neck and rose. “Anyway, I suppose I should go check on those two. One of them is possibly the scariest force of destruction ever known, and then, of course, there’s Hammer Strike”
“I am suddenly worried,” Pensword muttered. “This could cause a lot of … discord. I hope he is far away.”
Death laughed hard as he walked away through the closed door. His voice lingered, even as he left Pensword’s sight. “You think Discord’s a threat? That’s a good one.”
Pensword sat there, bewildered. “Old habits die hard, I guess,” he muttered, then shook his head as he pulled out his special store of sugar cane and immediately started chewing.
Conor smiled as he finished his set of pushups and situps in the courtyard by the new barracks construction zone, a little flushed and winded, but still ready for more. “I’m getting better,” he said as the smile turned to a grin. “Finally.”
“Yes. Pretty soon you’ll be able to keep up with the rookies’ physical fitness schedule,” Black Rook chuckled.
“Hey, considering how bad I was when I first arrived, you have to admit it’s been pretty good progress.” Conor chuckled goodnaturedly. “You really love busting recruits’ chops, don’t you, Rook?”
“As of last week, it’s my job description,” Black Rook replied.
“Thanks. Say, have you considered maybe inviting the Kitsune along for the run? It’d be interesting to see how well the troops can keep up with them, and maybe help foster some relations between Equestria and Neighpon, too.”
“They seem reluctant to talk with us more than they have to.” Rook shrugged.
“If they’re anything like their counterpart in my world, they’re probably mostly an isolationist nation. They’re afraid of what may happen if their cultures mix too much, especially if what I’ve heard about them being record keepers is true. They’re basically the guardians of the most unbiased treasure trove of historical knowledge in the world. But that doesn’t mean that the warriors in their escort might not like the challenge. I think Yao showed that pretty well when he fought Grif.”
“Well Grif’s a famed swordsman in his own right, isn’t he?” Rook said pointedly. “Listen, Conor, this is thousands of years worth of mentalities to work with. It’s not going to be so easy as walk up and say hi.”
“Ten bits says you’re wrong.”
“Don’t gamble,” Rook said. “And aren’t you going to be late for class?”
“Today’s fitness day,” Conor said with a shrug. “And we haven’t gone on our run yet. Also, just for the record, the gamble was more of an expression. I don’t really gamble, and I would’ve told you to keep the money if I’d won.”
“Well then you’d better go get in line with the others, hadn’t you?” Rook said with a smirk. “Grif’s been noting a drop in the last few runs from the others. He wants me to run in full armor to give them a bit of a kick.”
“Give me a second.” Conor ran off to the camp where the Kitsunes were currently enjoying a cup of tea. “My apologies for intruding,” he said with a bow. “My name is Conor. I’m a human from another world, and the guardsponies have been helping me to get in shape to face the challenges this world has to offer. We were just about to start a training run, and I was wondering if any of you would care to join us. The Everfree is actually rather beautiful as long as you know the right trails to stay on.”
They stared at him for a moment before one of them cleared his throat slowly. “We are honored by your offer, my friend, but we must respectfully decline.”
“I see.” Conor nodded. “I hope you continue to enjoy your stay.” He smiled then and bowed. “Sayonara.” Then he returned to Black Rook and rolled his eyes. “Okay, you were right.”
“Get in line,” Rook said.
“Yes, Sir,” Conor sighed as he joined with the other Ponies.
Without a word, Rook made his way to the armory to don his armor.
Big Mac grinned as he carried the giant cartful of apples past the outer gate and into the Bladefeather compound proper. There seemed to be an unusual spring to his step as he mosied along, nodding occasionally to the passing Gryphon as he made his way towards the kitchens and bakery, sloughing off his harness as he arrived between the two buildings.
“Special delivery from Sweet Apple Acres,” he called.
“Thank you,” a large panther-bodied, hawk-headed female said as she moved in to help him with the harness. “I hope the trip wasn’t too rough.”
“Nope,” Big Mac replied with his characteristic simplicity.
“Good to hear. Let’s see. Is it still two beaks to a bit?” she asked as she began counting out money.
Big Mac shrugged. “Grif’s already paid for it, ma’am. You can settle it with him.”
“Well then,” she said, giving him a few bills. “Take this as a tip. We appreciate you being so willing to come all the way out here.”
“No trouble, ma’am,” he said. Then he blushed. “Uh … you wouldn’t happen to know a girl by the name of Little Willow, would ya?”
“You won’t find a Gryphon with the name of Bladefeather who doesn’t,” she laughed.
“Think you can point me in the right direction?”
“She and her brother are probably in their house. It’s just down there at the end of the row, the one on your left,” she said.
Big Mac grinned and let out a whicker of excitement. “Thank you, ma’am,” he said. Then he was off, storming like a freight train before finally coming to a halt at the door in question. He took a brief moment to compose himself, then knocked loudly with his hoof.
Tall Oak answered the door and gave Big Mac a taciturn look that would have been threatening for anyone who didn’t know him. “Mac,” he said simply.
“Oak,” Big Mac said back. Then he cleared his throat. “Is Willow in?”
“Willow! Mac!” Tall Oak said as if these words should explain the entirety of the situation, which at least for Little Willow, it seemed to, as she was rather suddenly at the door.
Big Mac blushed. “H-hiya, Willow,” he said as he rubbed a hoof over his mane.
“Hey, hun,” she said as Oak made his way out of the scene, leaving the two alone.
“Been doin’ okay?” he asked.
“Why wouldn’t I be?” She chuckled as she left the house and closed the door. “Not like there’s anything you should be afraid of, right?”
Big Mac chuckled. “Nope.” Then he moved in and kissed her. “How’s the tree?”
“Doing fine,” she said. “How’s Granny? That balm help with her pains?”
“Eeyup,” he said with a smile. “Wanna go out?”
“You don’t have to run back to the farm for chores?” she asked a bit surprised.
“Nope,” he said with a smirk. “Applejack.”
“Well this is a pleasant change.” She grinned as she opened the door and, out of reflex, grabbed her dagger belt from the hanger and strapped it on. “Usually I have to drag you away.”
“Granny said we needed the time.” He sidled up next to Little Willow and nuzzled her affectionately. “So where’d you like to go?”
“I’m not sure,” she said. “Maybe we should head for Ponyville and see what's happening? I mean there aren’t a lot of places to eat here that don’t carry the scent of meat.”
Big Mac shrugged and smiled. “Anything you want.”
“Promises, promises.” She giggled as they walked.
“Just wanna make you happy,” he said as he fixed her with an adoring stare.
“You already do,” she told him. “You don’t need to work at it.”
Big Mac chuckled. “Work is kind of my thing.” Then a thought struck him. “I haven’t introduced you to our a capella group yet, have I?”
“Not yet,” she said. “You mentioned them once or twice though.”
“Want a private performance?” He asked, smiling playfully at her.
“I don’t know,” she said. “Don’t you need three other ponies for a quartet?”
“Eeyup. Still don’t mean we can’t sing just for you though.” Then he kissed her on the head.
“You know I’m a millennium older than you.” She laughed “It’s so weird. I had to travel a thousand years forward in time to find you.”
“Nope,” Big Mac said. “I would’ve come back for you.” He grinned at her.
“Somehow I don’t doubt that. But I’m still glad we’re in the safer of the times.”
“Says the girl who took on eight Changelings by herself.”
“Eight changelings are worth about four Gryphons from the Gryphon Wars,” she said.
“Eeyup,” he said pointedly.
“So how are things looking for the zap apple harvest?” she asked.
Big Mac smirked. “Buffer crop. You want a jar?”
“I wish you’d let me help. Do I need to be wearing the wedding clip before I get to find out about them?”
Big Mac shrugged. “Dunno. Y’never asked. We can see, if ya like.”
“It would be good practice for when we’re living together on the farm,” she noted. “Don’t you think?”
Big Mac blushed. “Eeyup.”
“So has granny been dropping ideas for names yet?” Willow chuckled. “Told you how many great grandchildren she’s expecting?”
Big Mac took Little Willow in his hooves and smiled as he leaned his head lightly on hers. “That’s for us to decide now, ain’t it?”
“Maybe.” She laughed. “But I never got a chance to hear my grandmother nag me about my future.”
“Then the farm it is.” He smirked as they walked together, hoof in hoof into the forest.
Pensword was happily invested in his paperwork and writing: filling out reports, making official requests, filing approvals for advancement. This was his element. Still, despite how skillful he’d become at the job, it didn’t change the odiousness of the task when it went for too long. With any luck, that request he’d submitted would be approved by the diarchy, and he would soon have a personal cadre of logistic troops to help manage the load. Already he had been able to delegate a portion of his paperwork to lower ranking officers, so the transition shouldn’t be too terrible.
A loud, solid knock sounded at his office door.
Pensword paused. He knew the guards on duty would have vetted any unexpected visitors, and he wondered who it might be. “Enter,” he called as he returned to signing another piece of parchment.
The door opened to reveal a heavyset Pony with a giant crate for his cutie mark. “Got a special delivery here for a Commander Pensword from the Crystal Empire. Sign here, please,” the stallion said in a Jersey accent.
“Sure,” Pensword responded while Matthew was thrown for a loop by the accent. Matthew tried to understand how that dialect ended up in Equestria while Pensword waited for the documents to be placed on the table. “Where are the crates being stored?”
“We’re waiting for direction.” The stallion shrugged. “You know how it goes. Where do you want ‘em?”
“Well,” Pensword began, “I think…” He frowned. “Preston!” He shouted.
“Yes, Commander?” Preston asked as he appeared at the door.
“I need you to get some troops to move equipment to vault one eleven. I want this done in the next half hour. You can leave the crates in the courtyard for the moment. I’ll have Lightning Dust guard them while we get a moving crew of our own to transport them to their final destination.”
“You’re the boss,” the moving Pony said as he made his way back out into the halls, but his yell made it sound like he was still in the room. “Alright, ya lazy colts, you heard the commander. Move it, move it, move it!”
“Just five years younger and he would have made a nice drill sergeant,” Pensword muttered with a grin. “Now then.” Pensword got up. He walked out of the office as a white stallion approached via the hall. “I take it that our staff is ready for tests and assembly prototypes in Vault one zero one. I want to have this little project up and running so when the military is fully signed in, we can have our tables ready to go. Also, how is the dummy company for finding future tactical leaders?”
“Our first major demonstration will be unveiled in the next two weeks,” the stallion reported. “After that, it is highly probable most arcades will seek to make use of the new technology.”
“Of course. And the wealthy will buy them for their own homes. What I want is to try and get the Mark Xes small enough that folks like Button Mash can have them in their homes. Which reminds me, rig a contest to get Button Mash one of them.”
“With all due respect, Sir, why not just give it to him?” the guard asked.
“Because this way we can get a list of future candidates, and we can roll out future test platforms. Yes, we can just give it to him, but with this contest, we can find out more information and details. If we move this direction, we will be able to build a solid base of future testers and fans. After all, we will have consolation prizes and gifts for those not elected, and we can always say that putting your name in the hat might get a future release to them.”
“Truly devious, Sir,” the guard complimented.
“Thank you. Now please, if you have not already, inform MeMe that I will meet her in vault one eleven.”
The guard saluted. “Yes, Sir.” And then he was gone.
Pensword stood in his office and smiled. He was going to teach tactics and strategy by games, and he might just organize official tournaments like… He frowned as Matthew filled in the country’s name. “Humans are mighty strange,” he whispered to himself. “What kind of a name is South Korea?”
Grif looked over his list one last time as the Gantrithor was loaded down. Genevieve had returned home two days ago, and everything seemed right for the trip to Neighpon. Grif had selected his honor guard to accompany him on the Gantrithor, but not into Neighpon itself unless required. He’d seen that the larders had enough preserved meat for their stay, and packed up some goods and recently recovered treasures for trade or tribute. The doctor in Equestria had cleared Avalon for the trip, and he was sure he had everything sorted out for his absence.
Given the distance of the trip, it was decided to test the ship under a full staff, rather than just the necessary occupants. Gryphons, Thestrals, and Ponies of all tribes had been selected to look after the various areas of the ship, and fill the small accompaniment of soldiers that Hammer Strike had somewhat begrudgingly allowed Grif and Pensword to take. The goods had been Grif’s idea, seeing as they had no basis for the value of bits to whatever the Kitsune Empire used for money. The delegation had been somewhat secretive about the subject. Goods were, of course, always of some value, and Grif hoped that if push came to shove, the gemstones and antiques would be eye-catching enough to be of value as curiosities.
“Everything's all right from my end,” Grif noted as he continued to look over his list while Pensword approached from behind.
“Everything is fine on my end as well,” Pensword answered. “Also, Fox Feather, Lunar Fang, and I talked, and we feel that a military wedding on the Giant will do, so we are going to have a military wedding. That means the family is coming, and the Demon Slayers, as they will then interview and put their stories into the archives, and we will have more views on the failed coup.”
“The giant?” Grif raised an eyebrow. “You named my ship the Giant?” he chuckled.
“It is a nickname. Enterprise was call the Big E,Queen Mary was called the Grey Ghost, the Constitution gained the name Old Ironside, so I am using tradition to have a nickname. It might stick, or it might not, but I am doing it regardless.”
“Okay,” Grif said, “you have everything you want to bring on board?”
“Everything I need. Not everything I wanted. After all, I have to wait for whenever it is that Discord is finished, which surprise was ruined due to Conor’s meddling. Anyway, I wanted to show off Earth, but that can wait for another day.” He paused. “What happened to the flag I gave you for Hearth’s Warming?”
“I keep it above my mantle at present.”
“Matthew and I are both happy to hear that. I, personally, am just a stranger privy to information that has more meaning.” He smiled. “Well then, I think I am going to the captain's quarters, since I assume Hammer Strike and Rarity will be taking the imperial quarters, and you and your wives are taking the Admiral’s Quarters.”
“Me and Avalon,” Grif corrected. “The doctor has decided Shrial is too far along to travel that far.”
“I am sorry to hear that. I was hoping to have them help be some of Fox Feather’s honor guard.” He frowned. “We decided to do a full combination of Thestral and Pegasus war weddings to honor the cultures we are more accustomed to.”
“I have to say the thestrals have adapted to areas of the ship with impressive ease. It usually takes a couple of years of training to master those Ballistas”
“We are a warrior society. Plus, you think I didn't have some of our development teams copy what they could from the Ballistas on board the moment we got home? We have been using vaults sixty and sixty six for weapon tests of these machines.”
“I’m still wondering how you convinced Caring Circlet to rename the cannon systems Yamato,” Grif chuckled.
“I told her about the Yamato, both historical and the anime. She liked it,” Pensword answered simply.
“And you’ve come to check if things are prepared for your master?” Grif said, turning to Vital Spark as he approached, grinning. “Nice cloak.”
Vital rolled his eyes. “Clover insisted I wear it. I know they can be functional and really helpful, but I feel ridiculous in this thing.”
“Nonsense,” Grif said. “A cloak is easy to make work. A pointed hat, now that would have been ugly.”
“Unless I grew a beard, of course. Then I might make it work. Merlin sure did,” he said with a playful smirk.
“Merlin never wore a pointed hat,” Grif said dismissively. “Thats just added for flare.”
“And Starswirl?”
“Well, he did wear the hat, but he also believed mercury should be sold as a children's toy.” Grif shrugged.
“From what Clover’s told me, that was the least of his quirks.”
“It was a harder time.” Grif nodded. “I only saw a few years of it, and it made a new person out of me. He was over seven hundred years old when he died. If I get that old, and a few quirks is the worst of it, I’ll consider myself lucky. But no Gryphon’s gotten that old since the betrayal.”
“Which one?”
“Which what?”
“Which betrayal? Your species goes through those an awful lot. … No offense.”
“No, that's a coup,” Grif said. “When a Gryphon speaks about the betrayal, we’re referring to when the Diamond Dogs cut us off from our gods, sending us into chaos, and forcing our lifespans to quicken.”
“You mean shorten?”
“That's the modern term for it, yeah. A thousand-year-old Gryphon used to be something every clan had. We were united, had our order and universal honor. But without the winds, our culture fell.”
“Is that why you’re always fighting?”
“Yes. Fighting us, fighting Minotaurs, and the war against the Ponies until Celestia reminded the empire why she is considered so dangerous. War is the one thing we do best as a culture. And sadly, it’s become the only thing that most of us have wanted to do.” Grif sighed. “And what I’m trying to work against.”
“And doing a fine job of it, I might add,” Vital said pointedly.
“For a handful of Gryphons, yes,” Grif said as he set his list down. “But I’m supposed to bring great change for my race.”
“And you will. You said you had a plan, right? And I’m guessing you’ve consulted with your gods about it, and they gave you approval, so it’s really just a matter of pushing through and having faith in the plan.”
“I’ve spoken with their children, but I can’t actually speak to the Winds themselves. Still, now you know why Gryphons despise Diamond Dogs most of all.”
“It’s a sad thing to lose people you love,” Vital agreed. “It’s no wonder you’re so angry at them.”
“But this impromptu history lesson needs to end here for now. You can tell Clover the three rooms she requested have been prepared, but under no circumstances can we give her such a large fire pit for a cauldron in the center of the room.”
“Aye aye, mon capitan,” Vital said with a salute and a smile. Then he moved up and hugged the Gryphon. “If it makes you feel any better, I certainly believe in you.” Then he left.
“Okay, Pensword, you can send Hammer Strike a message that we are ready to board when he’s ready.”
“Roger,” Pensword commented as he turned around and opened the cover to one of the talking tubes. “Light up the lights. Signal that Hammer Strike can come aboard.”
Hammer Strike made his way onto the ship, having already stored whatever he would need for the journey on board.
Rarity followed close behind. She had surprised those around by only packing three steamer trunks of clothing. She looked around in her flowing gown, but the occasional catch as it swished around her body helped to reveal the carefully concealed light armor beneath it.
“This is so exciting.” She giggled to herself. “Maybe I can pick up a few trinkets for my friends. That is, if you don’t mind, Hammer?” She asked as she fluttered her eyelashes and smiled coyly.
“Not at all.”
“I’m so happy to hear that,” she responded before trailing off as they entered the ship. “Oh my. I could do so much with this hallway.” She scanned the walls and piping for the communications system. “Hammer, darling, I’ll meet you for dinner. I need to get a closer look at–” She gasped suddenly. “IDEA!” she sing-songed as she trotted down a corridor.
“She’s not going to pretty up my ship, is she?” Grif asked, approaching Hammer Strike.
“She knows her limits.”
“Good. I do not want to have a Queen Mary of a warship,” Pensword said. “That being said, I would love to have her design a luxury ocean liner.”
“We can ask her to help with that when the stormstone cores arrive,” Grif said after having convinced Daedalus to give them five. “Anyway, everyone’s as ready as they’ll ever be. Troops are in the barracks, weapons are in the armory, and cooks are in the kitchen. We have enough food to feed everyone on board for a month, and enough varied valuables to hopefully be worth something. All we need is the word.”
“Then let’s get on our way. It might be time to press the throttle a little, see how fast we can go before everyone gets motion sick,” Hammer Strike commented.
“You heard him, Pensword. Give the order,” Grif said.
Pensword smiled. Instead of using the voice pipe, he made his way to the bridge. He looked around as the crew stopped and stood at attention.
“Command on deck!” they shouted.
“At ease, everyone. The word is given. Take us out at fifty percent full throttle,” Pensword ordered, knowing that was at least twice as fast as any ship in the air. He could feel Matthew grinning in his head.
Grif nodded to a Thestral beside a record player, who immediately lowered the needle. The ship began blasting an orchestral version of the Star Wars score.
Pensword tried to keep a straight face. Matthew, on the other hoof, was laughing up a storm, which manifested in a series of tremors that flowed through his equine body.
Outside the ship, those who were staying behind watched as it detached from the air dock and began to rotate. The day had been slated to be cloudy, but a small hole had been left open for the ship to exit through. The engines glowed a cherry red as they adjusted themselves to the bearing that had been set. The shadow of the ship seemed to eclipse the sun and cast everyone in the fortress in darkness, giving the illusion of a night illuminated by giant red stars. When the ship reached the appropriate direction, the glow intensified, and with a loud whooshing sound, the ship sped away. The clouds around its exit hole dispersed, torn apart by the pressure of the air coming off the ship.
Twilight, who had been watching from the ground below, turned to her assistant. “Spike, take a note. We need to create a corridor for the Gantrithor to travel safely into and out of this area. I can already tell Rainbow Dash is going to complain about the air wakes the Gantrithor leaves when it travels.”
“You want me to send a letter to Princess Celestia, too?” Spiked asked.
“No, Spike. I want to take care of this by myself.” She tapped a hoof against her chin. “And maybe the girls, too,” she amended.
Extended Holiday Ch 95: There and Back again Act 13
Despite the ship’s legendary capabilities and widespread information about said capabilities, after about an hour of travel and adjustments, the Gantrithor had been put at a cruising speed that still seemed to bother everyone onboard. Well, everyone who wasn’t from Earth or could fly anyways.
Grif had several targets set up in a row on the deck of the ship, and was practicing his archery with Avalon, who, to his complete expectation, had produced her own whitewood bow that had been made for her when her own archery teachers had proclaimed her adequate.
“So I realize I should be asking you this more often,” Grif said as he sighted down a shot. “But how goes your studies?”
“They’re about the same for now. A girl can only go so far with the basic manual, and I’ve been studying it for years. But my control is improving, and now that I get to actually practice the theory behind the spells instead of just going over them, it’s much more fun.” She smirked as she hit the bull’s eye. “Not as much fun as spending time with you, though.”
“Yes. Well, I’ll be honest. My reason for asking you out here wasn’t just because of your company, which I assure you is priceless, but Pensword has been asking me about the bow I gave him many years ago. I thought another skilled shot around might be helpful, as I’ve been told I can be somewhat frightening when I’m instructing,” he said as he fired, piercing her arrow.
“Well, if how you act in bed is anything to go by ….” she said as she ran a talon along Grif’s chest.
Grif turned scarlet at that comment. "I hope the trip’s been agreeing with you?” he asked hastily.
“Oh yes,” Avalon purred. “So when do I get to meet with our soon-to-be-student?”
Grif silently prayed Pensword would appear soon, before things became very awkward on the deck of a speeding airship.
A minute later, Pensword entered the deck, and Grif breathed a silent thank you to the Winds. The Pegasus was garbed differently from his usual style. This time he was covered in hides and furs, dressed more like the Thestral Warriors of old. He looked to Grif and to Avalon. “You are teaching me to use one of your sacred weapons, so I shall give it the honor it deserves,” he said by way of explanation. He approached the table and laid the bow on top. It soon became readily apparent just what species was meant to use this range. He grumbled in frustration, ruining the image he’d been trying to project, but also adding a sense of humor into the air that dispersed the awkwardness Grif had experienced earlier. “Get me a box to stand on, Grif.”
“This may come as a shock,” Grif chuckled, “but most cubs are smaller than you when they start. If you can’t reach what you need, then you need to figure out how to get it on your own. Tradition, you know.”
Pensword fixed Grif with the evil eye before taking in his surroundings. At last, seeing no other option, he alighted on the table. “There. Problem solved. Breaking range rules, but problems solved.”
“First, my range, my rules,” Grif said. “Second, this weapon is the single unifier of the Gryphon race. Male or female, young or old, red tailed hawk or hummingbird, monk, baker, or warrior. This bow is something we all learn to use, and we all learn to use it the same way.”
“Very true. I understand, and I will follow the rules and directions,” Pensword answered humbly.
“Let's start with the mechanism,” Grif said as he flipped the switch on his bow and it collapsed. “Have you experimented with the mechanism yet?”
“A little,” Pensword said as he activated his bow.
“This mechanism is an old invention. You can see the advantage of a weapon that becomes easier to stow. However, when it unfolds, the reaction is very powerful. You wouldn’t want Moon River nearby when that happens,” Grif explained.
“No, I would not like that,” Pensword agreed.
“So experiment a little. Tell me how the pull weight feels,” Grif said. “I had to work on approximations, as this weapon’s never been recorded being modified for a Pony before.”
“Will do,” Pensword answered as he tested the draw on the bow. He frowned. “It’s a little stiff. I feel like this could be a hindrance on the battlefield, unless you think I could work hard and get the strength to pull the string.
“We’ll work on that, but do you think you can fire it here?” Grif asked.
“I think so.” Pensword reached over, nocked the arrow on the string, drew it back, and anchored it in place. Then he took aim and let it go. The arrow was embedded faster than he could blink. It had landed in between the second and third circles from the center. His eyes widened in surprise. All he could see was the fletchings for the arrow.
“That's a decent first shot.” Grif chuckled. “For a first timer. Of course, first timers are generally…” He looked to avalon. “Eight years old? Is it still eight?”
“Around that age, yes. Sometimes it’s younger, sometimes older. It depends on the parent.”
“Okay, Avalon. Why don’t you show him a few shots? Let him see how it’s done.”
“Anything you want, Grif,” she said with a wink. She casually strolled up. “You did pretty well for your first shot. You just need to work on building up enough muscle mass to make the prep more fluid, like this. Her arm flowed like water as she gracefully took an arrow, nocked it, anchored to her beak, aimed, then shot. The execution was flawless. “I slowed down for you, so you could see how it’s done. Make sure to take note of my stance next time and try to mimic it.” She fired again. “Now you try.”
Pensword nodded as he took the stance, using the same moves, and somehow used his hooves to pull the string back, sighted down the arrow, and released it. The arrow flew and hit the outer ring of the target.
Grif nodded, not particularly pleased by the shot, but not surprised either. “You let the bow tip forward before you fired,” he noted. “Keep an eye on it, unless you need me to carve you out an aiming line.”
“I’ll try to see if I don’t need it. I am used to iron sights,” Pensword replied. “I shall keep an eye on it the next few times.”
“If it helps, imagine an opponent. See the different parts of their body, and know where the arrow will do the most damage,” Grif explained.
“I will.” He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. He decided to make the bullseye the heart of a Gryphon from the Third Gryphon War. He notched it, and then released it once more. This time the arrow landed closer to the bull’s eye, missing by about an inch.
“Well, that is good. I can do better, but it is doing well for my first day.”
“Better than most cubs start, especially given the weapon,” Grif said.
“Oh wow. This is shaping up to be a good lesson.”
Avalon gently rapped Pensword across the head. “Don’t get cocky,” she warned.
“Roger.” His face fell a little. “Mom used to say that, but my usual response is isn’t it always a good lesson if you come away with just one shred of knowledge more than you started?”
“You’ll come away with more than a shred, I expect,” Grif said.
“But to say any more than a shred would be a boost.”
“Okay, so tell me what you’ve noted about your bow so far. What’s its personality?” Grif asked.
“It likes to move the opposite way of how I am aiming it,” Pensword answered. “And I do mean opposite, anytime I have tried so far to compensate, it seems to draw the other way. Also, it feels like it fights me when I lift it up.”
“It hasn’t accepted you yet.” Grif nodded. “That can take a while. Your bow had a previous master, so that makes things harder.”
“Ah, well,” He paused. “Who? Does it know?” he asked looking at the bow. “Depending on who owned it, it might be why.”
“I figure you’d have recognised the crest carved into the upper arm,” Grif said. “And it knows. It most assuredly knows.”
“I thought so. I just wanted to hear it from your beak.” He looked to the bow. “Your previous master hurt me so badly I will never recover from it, so I will make sure that you will only be used in full combat. The only Pony blood you will ever taste again will be traitor’s blood.”
“For now you won’t be using it in combat.” Grif shook his head firmly. “Until it accepts you, I want you to avoid using it.”
“I know, but I want it to know beyond any doubt. If it behaves, then I will fulfill my end of my words, but not until I know I can use this bow and not risk my own fur and hide.”
“I know you keep good care of your weapons, Pensword, but for now you should spend some time with it every day. Wax the string, polish the arms, even if you fletch some arrows, have it out and around you. Let it feel your care.”
“And for Winds’ sake, don’t threaten it. You killed its former master. The least you can do is explain why in proper terms, instead of just glossing over it. It’s going to be stubborn, like its master was. Help it to see its previous master was wrong in his deeds, and then it might be more pliable,” Avalon said.
“Not right now.” Pensword growled. “Seeing that crest is still ... I need to take a lap or four around the ship to calm my mind, or I will likely kill something.” He shook his head. “I thought I was getting better.”
“Take your bow back to your room first,” Grif instructed. “We’ll continue this lesson another time.”
“Understood. And I will comply, Teach,” Pensword said as he turned to leave the range. He winced halfway to the door. It seemed the bow had pinched him when he folded it up.
As soon as he escaped into the ship, Grif collapsed and stored his bow. “And as for you, we’re heading straight to the cabin,” he said with mock severity as he turned to Avalon. “You’ve got a lot to answer for.”
“And I can’t wait,” she said as she swayed her hips and sashayed ahead of him. “Just be gentle with me. I’m holding precious cargo.”
With that said, the two left the deck. Their door slammed behind them as they burst into their cabin. Gryphons and Ponies alike would later report how it sounded like a tornado had made its way onto the ship as they passed the suite. The couple refused to comment.
Three days later, the vast plains and forests of Equestria were long gone, as were the oceans, cliffs, and plateaus of Gryphonia. The deserts of Saddle Arabia had only just begun melting away to reveal large mountain ranges and deep green valleys, fields partially submerged in water, and orchards of different fruits surrounded by forests of bamboo shoots that seemed to grow everywhere. And then it rose up quite suddenly in front of them, a massive stone wall that seemed to have grown from the very earth itself. It towered to the point where it practically scraped against the Gantrithor’s hull as they passed over.
The wall was composed of massive block sections like a giant’s bricks connecting by a wide pathway that seemed to hug the terrain, it was composed mainly of granite with green jade covering the battlements in artistic patterns for good luck. Surprised Kitsune of all fur colors stopped their constant patrol of the walls to stare at the great machine. Their silk uniforms and long braids of head fur, some nearly at floor length, billowed in the sudden wind as they braced their spears for combat in case such action should prove necessary. Some had one tail, some had two, though as hard as the crew on the Gantrithor searched, the most tails they could identify were four.
One of these four-tailed ones seemed to be attempting to contact them, though only the other Kitsune and Hammer Strike seemed to understand him. Tiny flames leapt up in each Kitsune’s hand, and surprisingly in Hammer Strike’s hoof as the guard demanded an explanation and posted his warning. Ping explained as rapidly as he could with exaggerated motions, even as his flame bounced and bobbed. The soldier’s face softened, and he nodded, bowing in the Gantrithors direction. They passed the wall and into the countryside. Half an hour later, they found the country replaced with a city of shingled sloped roofs beneath them. Black, red, and gold permeated the city’s color scheme, and at the city's center, surrounded by a large red stone wall, stood an enormous palace. Gold statues depicting the great celestial dragons could be seen in the courtyard, but they could make out little else from that distance besides the large red pillars that seemed to hold the front of the palace up.
It seemed their use of an airship had not been entirely surprising as they approached a very basic airship dock that had been set up on the outskirts of the city. However, it soon became quite obvious their hosts had not counted on the scale of the craft. The dock only came up to the Grantrithor’s belly, and it soon became necessary for them to be ferried down by hot air balloons.
Pensword looked out from his spot in the balloon. Once again, he found himself feeling incredibly small compared to his surroundings. The balloon basket was incredibly roomy with walls that reached higher than an average Pony could see over on all fours. As a result, Pensword had to grip the lip of the basket with his forehooves while bracing his hind hooves on the curving portion for support as he looked out over their surroundings at the towering buildings that made up the capital. Lunar Fang and Fox Feather giggled together as they hovered in the air and watched a wide-eyed Pensword practically vibrating as they drew closer to the ground.
Vital Spark looked down and whistled at the sight. His staff lay on his back, and his study materials had been packed into the saddle bags he carried on either side. “I always wondered what it was like in the Far East. I guess now I’ll be finding out. Say, Clover, did you ever get to come here back when you were Star Swirl’s apprentice?”
“Once, but I was never allowed this far into their territory. Star Swirl visited one of their monasteries, and we discussed magical philosophy with the monks.”
“As in the morals behind magic? Or do you mean its ultimate purpose in helping life progress beyond its current state of being and limits?”
“Well, Star Swirl and the head monk probably discussed that, but for myself, I was seated amongst the junior monks. We mostly discussed applications and showed off small pieces of spellwork we had learned.”
“Is that where you learned how to do the whole fire Pony thing?”
“No, that’s where I learned to manifest the hundred hoofed, or tailed in their terms, deity who exists in everyone and punishes those who do wrong.”
“Sounds a lot like a technique I remember hearing about back home. Gold, shiney, capable of one hundred and one styles, the final being a giant beam of energy blasted from the manifestation’s mouth after capturing the enemy?”
“You’ve read about it?” she asked.
“... In a manner of speaking.”
“Just be careful,” Clover warned. “Don’t say or do anything without my approval. The last thing we want is to insult these Kitsune while we’re in their territory.”
“I’ll do my best to be respectful and treat their culture properly. By the way, Clover, did you want me to call you my master or mistress or something like that, or do you just prefer Clover? Seeing as you’ve decided to make me your apprentice and all, I figure we should get that sorted out.”
“Shifu,” she told him. “That’s what I was to refer to Star Swirl as, and that's what you will call me while we’re here.”
“Yes, ma’–I mean Shifu.”
Clover nodded, preparing herself for what was to come.
“So … excited?” Grif looked to Avalon as they rode down. “I mean, Kitsune interacting with Ponies may be rare, but interacting with Gryphons is unheard of, isn’t it?”
“Interacting?” She rubbed her beak in thought, even as Snowy hooted gently and preened her feathers. “Yes. I suppose it is, isn’t it?”
“No. I guess I’m just feeling a little … pensive right now.” She shrugged. “It’s probably nothing. And besides, I don’t want to worry my husband too much now, do I?” She smiled gently as she caressed his cheek. “Why don’t we just enjoy the view?”
“You know you can tell me anything?” Grif asked as he wrapped a wing over her.
Avalon chuckled. “Like I could keep a secret from you?”
“I’m a lot denser than you think.” He chuckled, resting his head on hers.
Hammer Strike and Rarity remained silent as they looked down together. Rarity nuzzled against him to offer come comfort while he laid a hoof over her shoulders as they watched their slow descent to the grounds below.
“I know you’re not looking forward to this, darling. If there’s anything I can do ….”
“I’m trying to stay positive. I’ll at least get to see Haku again.”
“And I’ll be right there with you. We all will.”
The great guardian dragon statue glared down at them, its eyes forever impartial as they judged those who would enter the city.
“I know,” Hammer Strike replied.
There loud sound of heavy marching echoed as the guests disembarked from the balloons onto the ground. The rasping jingle of metal plates and rings filled the air as a large contingent of armored Kitsune soldiers approached. Many of them brandished spears and had poles sticking up from their backs bearing banners. All of them had their head fur rolled into identical top knots. Three Kitsune stood at the front. One was wearing a similar suit of armor with a crested helmet. The other two, however, were dressed in red silk robes with long billowing sleeves. One wore a large square-like black hat with a top slanted towards the back and two flaps sticking out from the front and the back respectively. The other Kitsune wore a round black hat with a gold bead on it’s top with a long braid hanging from his yellow head fur.
In unison, these three approached the group and gave a short bow.
“Greetings, Hammer Strike Sama, and guests,” the square-hatted figure spoke. His Equish sounded stiff and blocky, but it was clear and understandable. “I am Chancellor Hikaru. To my right is General Tatsu, and to my left is Magistrate Lee. We are honored to meet you.”
He turned to the kitsune delegates as they bowed respectfully. A rapid conversation was held in Neighponese for a moment, then the delegates seemed to understand, and hurried to melt in with the soldiers, emerging at the back of the column. Sai joined the three at the front.
“The emperor is most pleased to see you have come in a timely manner, and so impressively. We have been asked to accompany you to the palace. Would you prefer litters? elephants?”
“Whatever is most convenient. If possible, I would prefer to walk,” Hammer Strike replied.
“Very well.” Hikaru bowed again and nodded towards the general, who barked several stiff commands. In a fluid motion the entire column proceeded to do an about face.
“When you are ready, venerable one.” Hikaru gestured to Hammer Strike.
“Lead the way.”
And with that the group set off. Despite the short notice, it seemed the emperor had been prepared for the visit. When they reached the city proper, they were joined by a group of Kitsune in strange uniforms. Many of them had been covered in a large fierce-looking dragon costume. As the parade continued with its procession, the remaining uniformed kitsune identified themselves as skilled acrobats as they performed a series of rolls, flips, and other tricks for the gathering crowds as the Kitsune in the dragon costume writhed and wriggled down the street. Fireworks popped in the air, and soon children were seen running around with streamers as people shouted a welcome to Hammer Strike in Neighponese.
“Well,” Grif said. “you’re sure it was just the three you saved in the past?”
“Kurama, Gakushu, and Haku,” Hammer Strike replied before pausing. “Oh yeah… I also helped saved Michio, Satoru, Naoko. Thawed them out and gave them supplies for their journey back.”
“Did one of those guys cure cancer or something?” Grif asked. “I mean, this is kind of a crazy welcome given they haven’t had visitors from other races in this city. Ever.”
Pensword remained silent, watching the back and forth as he walked with Lunar Fang and Fox Feather. He looked to the two before returning his attention to the Kitsune in front of them.
“Master Kurama went on to fly through the ranks of the militia. By the time he was sixty, he had gained his own lands and a stipend from the emperor's government, as well as the title of daimyo.” It was surprisingly Magistrate Lee who spoke up in a much more polished Equish. “He re-wrote Kitsune war tactics that led to the stopping of no less than seven rebellions against the emperor. Master Gakushu at first lived in dishonor as he left his father's house in order to make swords, but what swords he made! Blades sharper than the icy chill of winter. His works are the most sought after amongst our warriors, and his students continue to produce exquisite craftsmanship. And as for Master Haku, he not only re-defined our understanding of the arcane arts, but also led our people out of a time of great spiritual darkness. These three masters together saw to the survival of our nation during a dark time. They always credited her greatness to you, Hammer Strike Sama.”
A small smile crept on Hammer Strike’s face. “I told them they were bound for great things.”
“A good student honors his master, but a great student also honors the master of his master. We honor you, Hammer Strike Sama, because without your influence, our nation would have lost a much needed guiding light in a dark age.”
“I’m glad to have helped.”
They fell silent as they approached a large gate. Much like the walls, the doors were made of heavy wood, and were a deep red in color, but each door was covered in large gold globes. Above the gate, carved yet again in gold, seemed to be the visage of a fearsome dragon. A great golden pearl was held in its gaping maw. The gates were opened before them with great ceremony as they entered a spacious courtyard where thousands of court officials, chancellors, magistrates, retainers, and other court-employed Kitsune bowed with their foreheads touching the ground before them, paws spread above their heads pointing towards the front of the palace where three figures sat, two on thrones, and one on a large fluffy-looking cushion. Hammer Strike found himself unable to concentrate on the other two as his eye’s drew towards the one on the cushion.
The years had been kind to Haku, but even a Kitsune’s magic could only hold off the effects of age for so long. His fur had thinned around his face, revealing thicker bags under his eyes. His mouth was curved in a gentle smile, and tears trickled down the matted grey fur. His coat, once a brilliant crimson, had turned white with only a few small hints of the red that had existed in his youth. Nineteen pure white tails waved peacefully behind him, and along with the wisdom of years, one could feel the strength of the magic he held in check. To many of the Equestrians present, it reminded them of Celestia in a way. His robe was covered in images of rice paddies and butterflies, and a dim corona of red light tinged with white surrounded each of his tails.
The soldiers, Magistrate Lee, General Tatsu, Sai, and Chancellor Hikaru all proceeded to prostrate themselves before the thrones like everyone else. Grif looked around them. As awkward as it felt standing, he really didn’t feel right bowing. It took a moment, but getting an idea, he reared onto his back paws and stiffened his spine before making a fist in his right hand and placing it in his left palm as his left hand stood straight. He bowed his head slightly and put his hands forward respectfully before allowing himself back on all fours.
Vital Spark bowed his head low as a sign of respect to the emperor and his court, and did the smart thing by staying silent.
Clover simply nodded, and the emperor seemed to accept this, possibly, Vital realized, already knowing the mage’s reputation.
Pensword, Fox Feather, and Lunar Fang all bowed simultaneously in a united show of respect to the monarch. Matthew wasn’t too pleased with the idea, but Pensword overruled him. This was how respect was shown to a ruler as a diplomat. It was not acquiescence as a servant, merely an acknowledgement that they were in charge here, much like a salute given to a commanding officer. Matthew grumbled, but he couldn’t refute the logic, and the two were in harmony again.
The emperor spoke in rather fast Neighponese. Fortunately, one of the bowing Kitsune seemed to be a translator as his voice spoke up.
“Welcome, honored guests, to Neighpon, the pearl of the world. We are most gratified that you decided to accept the invitation we extended to you. It is especially good to see the venerable one, Hammer Strike Sama. It was most entertaining as a cub to hear tales of your adventures from the masters.”
“I hope they didn’t spin the tales too tall,” Hammer Strike replied in Neighponese, much to many of the Kitsune’s shock. He couldn’t help but grin.
“Ah you speak our tongue well,” the emperor said as he chuckled. “We had thought you may have grown rusty over the centuries.”
“My memory tends to be hit or miss, and it just so happens the language stuck with me. My companions, on the other hand, cannot speak or understand it,” Hammer Strike clarified.
“Very well, then. Let me welcome you in person to Neighpon. It is to the pleasure of master Haku,” the emperor gestured to Haku respectfully, “that you have been invited here. It is to our pleasure that you will attend a banquet tonight in honor of this historic occasion, and during your stay you will allow us to grant you hospitality in our palace, by order of His Majesty Kublai Khan, Emperor of Neighpon and all the lands of the Kitsune people.” He waved his hand, and the translator repeated his words in Equish. He was a plumper kitsune with a fine red and yellow silk robe. He wore a rounded hat similar to the magistrate, though it seemed to be topped with the largest pearl they had ever seen, even in Equestria. Aside from his long braided hair, he possessed a short waxed mustache and a goatee. His fur was a steely grey color that almost seemed to reflect the sun. On the throne at his side, just behind him, sat a female orange kitsune with a heavily painted face and a fan.
After taking a breath, Hammer Strike replied. “All right.”
“Is there anything you require?” the emperor asked.
“Would there happen to be a smithy I could use at some point?”
“Master Gakushu, I believe, would have been honored to allow you the use of his forge.” The emperor nodded. “Unfortunately, matters of state demand my attention, so I will allow master Haku to show you where you will be staying, and we shall assign you a guide when a suitable one can be found.”
Haku nodded as he slowly rose to his feet and bowed to the Emperor Khan. “It would be far more than an honor, my emperor. Thank you for the opportunity.”
The emperor's face turned sad for a moment before he smiled and gestured with a small fan in his left arm.
Haku held out a hand and a staff emerged from the earth, solidifying into an old gnarled tree root that had been intricately carved with kanji and sacred charms. A gourd hung from its side, its liquid sloshing as he began to hobble towards the group. “It’s been a long time, hasn’t it, Sensei?” He chuckled. “And what a pleasure it is to meet your fellow compatriots.” He turned to Grif, Pensword, and Lunar Fang. “I thank you for keeping Hammer Strike safe, with all of my heart.” He bowed.
Pensword nodded solemnly. Lunar Fang smirked as she bowed her head with respect. Grif tilted his head in acknowledgement. Clover, however, just stared at Haku wide-eyed as she took in the sheer amount of magical energy coming off of him.
Haku chuckled. “And there is the little mare I’ve heard so much about.” He reached out and patted her on the head. “Your sensei would be proud of you, especially for the role you are playing now in the course of events to come.”
“You knew Star Swirl?” Clover asked, taken aback.
“He decided to dabble in chi magic as a part of his portal studies. It accidentally led to our meditation hall in the temple, since it was built over a key ley line.” Haku chuckled. “Gave us quite a shock, but it served a good way to wake the initiates.”
“Maybe I could ask you some questions? I haven’t had a lot of research on eastern magic since I was a filly.”
Haku smiled kindly. “It is not so far off from your Equestrian philosophy. What you call harmony, we call balance. It would be a pleasure to teach you.”
Pensword tuned out the conversation between Clover and Haku. The Magic was something he really didn’t care for, and he had learned the less he knew, the better he could be at performing duties and tasks. Instead, he thought ahead to just what might be served at the feast and came to a startling revelation. He swifly turned to face Fox Feather. “Only one small cup of Sake, nothing more. It is a little more intense than the average brew.”
“How intense?” Fox Feather asked with a smirk.
“You would be confessing your undying love to a bush if you drank half of what you drank at the party,” he answered, unsure if this was true or not.
“And that’s not even our sacred sake,” Haku interjected.
“Oh, now I just have to try a cup of that,” Fox Feather replied.
“Are there any good tea houses in the area?” Grif asked. “I … heard one of the delegates murmuring about a green tea, and I’m interested to try it.”
“Ah yes, I know just the place. They make the best brews a fox could ask for, or any species for that matter. But first, we must address the issue of your rooms. Come, we have them all prepared.”
Haku led them down the hard, polished stone floor as great red wooden pillars with jade dragons circling them rose high above. The dragons stared down, as though actively scanning them. Great banners and scrolls portraying various paintings of mountains, plains, and streams added a sense of nature and tranquility to the unsettling quiet of the halls.
“Don’t mind the golems. They treat everybody like that,” Haku said passively as the dragons’ heads turned to follow the party in its passage. After a series of twists and turns, they finally arrived at a series of translucent screen doors. “These will be your quarters. You may pick whichever rooms you like, or if you prefer, arrangements can be made to give you a larger room for you all to sleep in together.”
“As long as we’re together, it’s fine,” Grif said, wrapping a wing around Avalon.
“Can I try some of that sake?” Fox Feather asked. “I can hold my ale, beer, and troop wine just fine. I want a challenge.”
“You do know that the water is safe, right?” Pensword whispered.
“Don’t care. I want to be one of the first Equestrian officers to drink sake.” Fox Feather brushed her wing over his, causing Pensword to blush.
“We can see about ordering you some later this evening. After all, you do have that feast to look forward to tonight.” He chuckled, then broke into a minor coughing fit. He quickly uncorked his gourd and took a few swigs before replacing the stopper and sighing.
“Are you all right, Haku?” Hammer Strike asked.
Haku smiled. “Fine. Fine,” he assured them.
Hammer Strike opened his mouth to say something before closing it and faintly shaking his head.
Haku smiled. “I still have time yet, Hammer Strike. Don’t worry so much about an old fox.”
“Haku, you know how I am…”
“And that’s why I’m telling you to relax and enjoy yourself. This should be a happy reunion. Let’s keep it that way.”
“... All right.”
Haku waved his hand and the doors all slid open. Each had been ornately decorated with hanging paper lanterns engraved with various kanji for peace, protection, and sleep. A single short, round table sat in the middle with a series of cushions in varying shades of purple, blue, and red. A series of sleeping mats had been provided in each room, along with an adjoining bathroom and what appeared to be a personal bath in the outdoors behind.
“If you happen to need anything, all that is required is for you to pull the cords near your beds or the doors. Servants will come as soon as they can to assist you.”
“Uh, a quick question, Haku, was it?” Grif spoke up.
“Yes?”
“Well, seeing as our countries have never really interacted, the bit and the beak probably don’t have much, if any, value here. I brought a few goods that I hope might be worth some trade here in order to get some spending money. But is it possible I could get an appraiser to come to the ship tomorrow? And possibly some sort of rundown how your currency system works?”
“You’ll have both ready by tomorrow morning,” Haku promised. “I’m certain the emperor will be pleased to know of your desire to trade. Just be careful not to try to live off of it. You are the emperor's guests, and he prefers not to have his hospitality spurned when he offers it.”
“I didn’t mean any offense. It just seems like it would be a little imposing to assume the emperor should concern himself with small expenses on personal items,” Grif said, trying his best to keep a polite tone.
“Of course. Just be careful. Our people have remained isolated for millennia, and our laws on exportation are very strict. I would recommend consulting a list of allowable souvenirs, if that is your desire.”
“Would it be acceptable for someone of my standing to commission a Katana or smaller weapon?” Pensword asked as he looked into one room and nodded his head in approval, showing he had claimed it.
“I don’t see why not. It might require a test of strength at arms, but our archives speak quite highly of you as both a tactician as well a warrior, so as long as you have a proper escort and find a smith willing to take the job, it is certainly possible.”
“I shall see about asking one of your mid level officers for my official guide, then. I feel they would know the best place to commission a blade.”
“I can certainly give a few recommendations later, if you would like,” Haku said with a chuckle. “Gakushu’s proteges and I still keep contact from time to time.” He bowed to the party. “With that, I’m afraid I have to leave you. I must help make preparations for the feast. You can expect your seamstresses within the hour for your fittings.”
“Fittings?” Rarity asked.
“For your ceremonial robes. It’s traditional,” Haku explained.
Rarity squealed in delight as Haku retreated down the hall, and the party got settled into their apartments.
An hour and a team of seamstresses later, the group stepped from their rooms into the hallway.
Grif was dressed in a black male kimono complete with a white hakama hanging across his back with a small hole for his tail. A black haori jacket had been draped over his chest with several red slash-like markings across it and a pair of geta sandals that Grif was shocked they found for his pawed hind legs. Vigilance and vengeance had been swapped out for a single lacquered black bokkun slung through his obi across his side. For the first time in collective memory, the only green Grif was wearing was the green tips of his crest.
“Who are you, and what have you done with our Grif?” Vital asked with a chuckle. His Kimono, surprisingly, was black with white stripes. Or was it white with black stripes? No time to count. A single yin-yang symbol had been sewn in over his heart, though instead of the usual circles, hearts had replaced them.
“Where…? When did Me-Me get so good?” Pensword whispered in Draconic from his place behind the screen. As he emerged from the room, his midnight blue kimono shone in the afternoon light. The sleeves were trimmed with a moon-grey cloth. Three symbols had been included descending over his heart. The first was the original emblem for Mountainside Falls before its destruction. The second was a kanji for the moon in honor of Princess Luna and his loyalty to her. The last was his cutie mark. A golden western dragon had been flawlessly sewn on the kimono’s back with great care, a homage to his exchange with Haymin. Due to his equine hindquarters, no pants had been included. Much like Grif, a simple polished wooden bokkun had been strapped at his side to complete the ensemble.
Lunar Fang’s kimono seemed to be the height of her embarrassment as she stepped out. To everyone else, however, the effect was quite stunning. The fabric was a thin silk the color of silvery moonlight with blue blossoms painted onto it. Her obi formed a large bow behind her in golden yellow, and her mane had been styled with a black comb to hold it up. As a warrior, she was also entitled to bear a bokkun, and did so.
Pensword stared and grinned as he nuzzled her, whispering something into her ear that caused her to blush.
Fox Feather entered next, wearing a kimono that accented her fox colorations and seemed to tease the fact that her kimono robe draped over her rear to create the illusion of at least two horse tails other than her normal tail. The color of the silk was dyed a dusky red with gold and silver lines and swirls that gave the impression of fire. A red lacquered polished wooden Bokkun hung at her side.
Avalon’s kimono was a tsukesage. Much like her usual colors, the base of the silk was a pure white with blue accents woven to form patches of water and sky. A red sash had been tied around her stomach, its length engraved with kanji for life and health, and the bow behind her was interwoven with smaller golden kanji representing the protection of the spirits. Like the other winged creatures of the room, her Kimono had been altered to take her wings into account, and a polished blue jade necklace had been placed around her neck next to the chain that held her focus. “Well, this certainly is a first,” she said as she looked herself over.
“A lot of firsts today,” Clover spoke as she stepped from her room. She wore a simple sapphire-blue robe with kanji representing different elements and magical formulae on it. A large yin-yang symbol had been sewn on the back of her kimono; however, instead of black and white, the symbol had been separated into a lavender half with an orange spot for yin and a light blue symbol with a purple dot with a green stripe through it’s center for yang. She had refused any ornaments or special adornments, and carried her staff beside her still.
Hammer Strike felt odd wearing something so drastically different from his usual attire. He wore a simple blue and gold kimono. His personal crest had been sewn onto the back, and a simple black sash held it closed.
“Darling, you look positively ravishing,” Rarity complimented as she emerged from behind the dressing screen that had been provided for their room. Her Kimono followed after a floral pattern with little gems in the center of the flowers. In homage to the traditions of Neighpon, her mane had been tied up into a bun and held in place by two decorative jade sticks. The sleeves were long and roomy, but glided smoothly across the floor with a dirt and friction resistance spell added to the mix. A pair of jade earrings had been attached to her ears for the occasion as well, and an Eastern style umbrella hovered behind her, turning absently for effect.
“You look lovely as well,” he replied as he turned to face her.
“Flatterer,” she teased as she kissed him.
“I wonder what’s been planned for our time here.”
“I would assume something elaborate and incredibly formal with a lot of rituals, but none of the fawning nobles. It should prove rather relaxing, I would think.”
“It does sound better without the other nobility…”
“And they’re so relaxed here. They don’t go crazy over all the good you’ve done,” she noted. “But I think we should go join the others now, don’t you? We don’t want to keep the emperor waiting.”
“Yeah, I guess we shouldn’t delay anymore.” He chuckled as he slid opened the door for her.
“Ladies and gentlecolts, introducing Lord Hammer Strike,” Rarity said with a playful giggle.
“Ha-ha.” Hammer Strike rolled his eyes.
“Shouldn’t that be Lord and Lady Hammer Strike?” Grif laughed.
“Grif! Not until after we say ‘I do.’” Rarity blushed heavily.
“If I may intrude, noble guests, I have been sent to guide you to the banquet to be held in your honor,” a smooth voice said. A blue kitsune with black highlights bowed in his formal servant robes. “I am called Jackie. If you have a need for anything at all, just ask, and I will do my utmost to deliver it to you. And should you have any question about some of the artwork and artifacts, feel free to ask me. Archaeology is my specialty.”
“Thanks,” Grif said. “You all speak Equish surprisingly well.”
“We have surprisingly good teachers. My uncle is actually a specialist on languages both ancient and modern,” he said with a proud smile. He then uttered something in ancient Gryphic, much to the shock of Avalon. “As I said, we have good teachers.”
They were led into a large banquet room decorated bright red and gold with the gold effigy of a large serpentine dragon on the wall in the back of the room. Tables were set low against the floor with large cushions placed around them. Black ceramic plates had been laid out around the tables with a set of crossed red chopsticks across them. A second square dish was set to the left side of every plate, and a shallow small bowl was at the right.
“So … new question comes to mind. I have fingers. How do you guys intend to use chopsticks?” Grif spoke up.
Pensword gave him a confused look. “I use my hooves, of course. I can use my hooves for chopsticks the same way I use my wings for war.”
“Worst case scenario, I’ll try levitating them, but I want to try using my hooves first, too,” Vital said.
Jackie chuckled nervously. “The emperor understands if you would prefer to use other means to eat your food. It won’t be a problem, I assure you.”
“So are you supposed to seat us, or do we just sit anywhere?” Grif asked.
“You have been given the table closest to the Emperor’s as his most honored guests. Please, this way,” Jackie said as he motioned down the aisles between the tables.
“Forewarning, don’t use the green goopy stuff,” Grif whispered to Avalon as they were seated.
“And you had to tell me? You do realize practically anything with that green coloration has been evil in this world, right?” she whispered back.
“You would be surprised how many people were lured in by its less threatening look, only to spend the next hour praying for death.”
“Poisonous?”
“If only mother nature had such a sense of mercy,” Grif said, shaking his head.
“I personally like the stuff. In small amounts,” Pensword added.
Vital Spark grinned, his new canines primed for what he knew was about to come.
“Grif, care to face me in an eating contest?”
“You’re sure you want to do this? I’m twice your size and burn close to four times the calories a day,” Grif pointed out. “So when you lose, you can’t be making excuses.”
“You kidding me? When else can I get the opportunity for an all-you-can eat authentic oriental buffet without having to pay for it? Worst case scenario, I’ll try to pull a Pinkie Pie. I’m taking this meal for all it’s worth,” he whispered with a grin.
“Who said this was an all you can eat?” Pensword whispered back, using Dragonic.
“And don’t count on it being all sushi and ramen,” Grif noted. “The color scheme of this hall is more like the ming dynasty. That dragon back there, I’m not an expert mind you, but the design seems like the Korean version of it. I think these Kitsune are a much larger culture than you’re counting on.”
“And you think I’m scared to try new dishes?” He laughed. “Bring it on.”
“Just making a note. Forewarned is forearmed, my friend.”
Further conversation was stalled as music began to play and the emperor entered the room, taking his place at the head table while ministers, generals, magistrates, and other people necessary for the country's well being filed in and took their places. The emperor spoke fluidly in Neighponese, and another older-looking robed kitsune took over. All the Kitsune bowed their heads low as he chanted something fast and fluently while facing a large golden statue of a Kitsune lady. He placed some food in a bowl before her, and then the first course was brought out.
As Grif had predicted, aside from large trays of different types of sushi, there were several different types of cooked pork and chicken. A cornucopia of stirfries and dumplings passed through the aisles to be scooped into bowls. Servants went around offering bowls of several varieties of soups and stews both savory and sweet. A bowl of rice seemed to magically appear next to every place setting as well as bottles of sake and kettles of tea.
Grif gave the largest grin he could, breaking his usual rule against showing teeth as he revealed every last one of them in all their sharpness. He stood over a large bowl of deluxe ramen and looked to Vital with a cocky smirk as he held up his chopsticks.
Vital returned the grin as he raised his own chopsticks in front of him with his telekinetic aura. “Itadakimasu!”
Pensword said nothing, and silently went to work on his meal, sampling a little of everything to find his favorites, and enjoying the Green Tea at his place setting. Lunar Fang and Fox Feather both casually sampled from his plate, and he returned the favor, allowing all three to enjoy each other’s company while magnifying the overall experience of the occasion.
Hammer Strike grinned as he took a sample of every meat he could manage. Haku chuckled at the other Kitsune’s gaping mouths. Rarity appeared to have fallen in love with the seaweed salad, and had made use of her chopsticks to wind the strands into a makeshift ball before raising it to her mouth and swallowing. She then proceeded to daintily wipe her mouth with a napkin before asking for more.
Avalon couldn’t help but chuckle at her husband’s antics as he and Vital continued their battle for feasting supremacy. Clover shook her head despairingly at the immature display, even as she chewed on an assortment of egg and spring rolls filled with shrimp, chicken, and pork.
A while into the meal the emperor stood up and motioned for silence. Turning to their table, he bowed.
“Haku has informed me that you have requested information about trade, and pointed out a current issue with monetary systems,” his translator spoke. This seemed to be pre-rehearsed. “For the time being, I have prepared these.” On some pre-arranged signal, several Kitsune surrounded the table and pulled out black lacquered wooden boxes, which they opened to reveal small golden tablets, each bearing some writing and the symbol of a large lion-like animal. “When you are in the market, show these tablets to any merchant you wish to do business with, and he will contact me to receive payment.”
“From all of us, thank you for this gift,” Hammer Strike replied as the boxes were placed next to their seats.
Pensword looked at the plates. He looked to his two wives. “You think we can get some of these recipes?”
“We’ll have to check later,” Lunar Fang whispered.
The emperor sat down, and the feast continued into the night. No one left until the emperor himself finally bade them a good night and left the room. Grif swiped a bowl of dumplings as the group were led to their rooms, chewing on them happily. When they got to their quarters, they disrobed the formal garments, and for most except Hammer Strike, found the gentle embrace of sleep.
Two nights later, Pensword and Lunar Fang were enjoying the evening in the gardens. A few Kitsune guards stood around the perimeter to prevent unauthorized entrance to certain doors while three servants stayed nearby to watch the Ponies directly. Pensword smiled, but it was a tiny bit forced. Something felt off. Chills were running down his spine, and he struggled to control it. It only grew more difficult as sundown approached and the stars began to emerge. When all signs of daylight had faded, he let loose a terrible cry and collapsed. His body couldn’t hold back anymore.
Lunar Fang rushed to his side.
“What's wrong?” she asked. Their guards soon followed, but Pensword was beyond answering. His eyes had rolled back into his head, and he continued to spout stuttering words.
“Back away!” Clovers shouted as she barreled into garden. Her staff blazed with light as she swung it. A transparent film of magic seemed to cover Pensword’s body. Unseen by all, his connection to the spirit world had been temporarily blocked.
Pensword bolted upright, his nostrils flaring. “We have to help them. A unit. A unit needs rest,” he cried out in Draconic. He turned his eyes, which had grown so dilated that no whites showed. “Lunar Fang, get our gear. We must help … their ….” he wobbled. “We–” He sat down hard. “We have to help them.”
“Pensword?” Grif and Hammer Strike entered the garden moments later, hastily clipping on their gear. “We heard a shout. What’s wrong?”
“Warriors, they must rest. We have…. They need their rest.” Pensword grunted as he pushed himself back up, looking for a moment like a Ponyta on the verge of fainting, just without the fire. “We have to help them. They yearn for their families.”
“Is this something to do with the hand bell?” Grif asked.
“I ... I….” Pensword muttered. “What is the hand bell?”
“You can’t hear that? The hand bell ringing every few moments?”
“Yes, I …. Yes I hear it.”
“Guessing you’re unarmed?” Grif asked.
“When are we ever unarmed?” Pensword gasped out, giving a weak lopsided grin.
“Well then, let's go see what's happening,” Grif said, taking to the air.
Pensword nodded and with Lunar Fang on one side, and Fox Feather arriving a moment later, they walked out, each holding the commander up by a wing. He paused as Clover drew closer, and waited until they’d reached a place where he knew they wouldn’t be overheard.
“What did you do?” The words seemed calm, but the tension could fill an ocean.
“I stunned your connection to the veil,” she said
“You what?” Pensword hissed. He trembled and snorted, barely suppressing the rage. “Do you have any idea how that can look to those back home? Stripping me of that gift?”
“Your gift was a hair’s breadth away from killing you,” Clover seethed back. “You have a daughter, you imbecile!”
“My gift has never tried to kill me. Why would it do so here?” Pensword snapped.
“Because this isn’t the place where Hammer Strike is chum chums with Death! Different creatures rule here. Your gift opens you to the malevolent spirits as much as the benevolent ones!”
Pensword stared, stunned at the sudden scolding. In all his time, he had never considered the possibility of an evil spirit seeking to claim or influence him in some way. A cold chill ran over him. If such truly was the case, then some of those malevolent spirits quite nearly succeeded.
“Lunar Fang, get me my dream web.” Pensword’s voice was soft and contrite. “We cannot interfere directly, but I still feel uneasy.” He frowned. “We must help however we can.”
“You don’t need to.” Clover shook her head. “Everything is being handled. Come with me,” she said, leading them away.
In time, they found themselves standing back at the mighty palace gates. Grif sat perched atop the arch above the golden dragon’s head. A sigil flared from the orb in the dragon’s mouth for purity to ward against evil. Clover motioned for the couple to follow her up the stairs and onto the parapet, so they could look out on the sleeping city next to Hammer Strike.
A cold, wet mist flowed over the grounds and through the streets like a dog searching for a scent. It swirled in eddies until the whole city was overrun. Then the lights came. Little paper lanterns cast an eerie white light, paler than even the moon. The twin kanji of death and rest shone on each, projecting onto the mist and causing little willowisps to bob and jump, revealing the shadows of their true forms surrounding their lights as playful giggles danced through the air.
“Keep back,” Grif warned. “Don’t go anywhere near them.”
“What are they? They look like ... but don’t Kitsune control willowisps?” Pensword asked.
“Depending on your lore, yes,” Grif said. “They’re forming a barrier, keeping them contained.”
And then they saw it. Slowly and steadily, a curtain of darkness drew itself over the city, covering the stars, severing the moon’s rays. They heard it clearly, the sound of skittering legs, of clacking teeth and claws and fangs. Unnamable and unspeakable creatures hovered in that darkness, and their hunger was so strong it was near palpable. Occasionally a tongue, a wing, a horn would emerge, only to return to the shadows once more. They were probing, searching. But for what?
One of these shadows jumped into the road to reveal what appeared to be a great feral dog, a cross between a Kitsune, a coyote, and a wolf, only twice the size. It sniffed eagerly, growling and snarling as it sought the scent of some unknown prey.
“Yu Mo Gwai Gui Fai Di Zao,” a voice cut into the darkness as a grey six-tailed kitsune with worn yellow patches of fur appeared near the gate. He held what seemed to be a petrified newt in his left hand, and continued to chant in a slow easy pace before the beast, not blinking his sunken eyes, not looking away, just chanting.
As he did so, the symbol on the orb flared, and the golden dragon’s eyes glowed a bright red. Even as the Kitsune continued his chant, a green aura surrounded him and the newt before spiraling above him and into the symbol itself. In a bright flash of light, a white ghostly form had appeared superimposed over the carving of the dragon. Its scales were pearlescent, its waving fronds majestic. Its long, serpentine tail and powerful claws yearned to be free, and its orb glowed with white and green light. The figure broke from the carving and advanced on the now-whimpering creature. It tried to retreat to the shelter the great shadow provided to it and its own, only to find its way barred by brilliant green flames. Still the chanting continued, still the dragon advanced.
The eternal guardian from the heavens looked with disdain upon the creature and opened its mouth. The orb hovered next to it, even as it roared at the comparatively small creature, consuming it in white light. The shadows recoiled. When the light died away, there was no sign of the creature. Nodding in satisfaction, the dragon reclaimed its magic orb and flew back to the gates before rising and curving its long body around the boundaries of the palace. It glared into the shadows, as if daring any other creature to be foolish enough to try to enter its domain. With the dragon awakened, the old Kitsune ceased his chanting and returned to the shadow of the gate, newt at the ready should his magic be required again.
The sound of handbells began to grow louder. From deep within the palace’s shrine, something else began to sound over the din. At first it seemed to be a faint thumping sound, but as it grew louder, they could hear the sound of many thumps in unison, as if many pairs of feet where hopping towards them in time to the bells.
A tall male Kitsune walked out of the shrine wearing a black robe with white lining. In his right hand he held a wooden sword speckled with blood and intricately carved with mystic symbols. In his left he held a simple silver handbell, which he rang regularly after every few steps. Behind him, slowly at first, Kitsune hopped out of the building in rows of five. All of them wore identical black robes with red lining and hats. A slip of aged yellow paper with black writing on it hung from their hats. With every ring of the bell the Kitsune hopped robotically forward. Long billowing sleeves hid their hands from sight.
“I am guessing this is something important?” Pensword whispered. Lunar Fang watched silently, enthralled by the event.
“There are your spirits who need to get home.” Grif gestured with a talon to the hopping Kitsune. “And they will get there eventually.”
“Then how can we help them get home?” Pensword asked
“Best to sit this one out,” Clover told him. “This is risky as it is, and the taoist is paid for his risk.”
The priest, for that is what he was, continued at a stalwart and solemn pace as he approached the palace gates. His bell continued to toll, and the corpses continued to move. He approached the gate and bowed to the great guardian. The celestial dragon turned its head and nodded in turn. Its eyes flashed, and the gates slowly creaked open. The wailing and scrabbling increased.
The priest continued onwards as he waved the wooden sword in intricate patterns. As the corpses approached the gate, he stowed his sword in his corded belt and produced a handful of sticky rice from his robes, scattering it along the edges of the path as they left the palace grounds and the dragon’s protection.
More of the hounds approached, snapping hungrily, then yipping in pain as they retreated from the rice with burnt noses and paws. The rice continued to spread until all the corpses had hopped out of the compound. That was when the first major attack came.
Out from the shadows, great bony clawed hands struck against the walkway. Bolts of dark lightning lashed in recoil against a flaring barrier of light. The flames of the wisps had lined the path, their giggles no longer so childish, their movements no longer playful. Their shadowy forms tensed. Their eyes glared as they pushed back.
And still the priest pressed on.
An angry roar filled the air with the skittering of legs as multiple hands struck again and again, attached to long, bony arms. Glowing green eyes pulsed in the shadows as blow after blow was struck. The wisps were pushed back, their flames straining as the path grew more narrow. The Jiangshi filed accordingly as the taoist priest continued along his way.
A few of the flames flickered and guttered out as cracks began to lace over the walls of light.
Pensword was torn as a titanic struggle waged within his consciousness. Matthew wanted to cower and pull back at the sight of what one could tell was clearly a spider demon. Pensword, however, wanted to charge forward and attack, and had prepared himself to do so.
Grif wrapped his wing around pensword and pulled him back. “You’ll do more harm than good.”
More legs emerged as five Tsuchigumo heads gnashed their teeth, striking against the flames and the barrier protecting the priest as he passed. A foul wind blew through the lane, blowing the lanterns out and dousing the path in darkness as the barrier shattered. A loud cry sounded as a chorus of voices dissipated and the demons prepared to swarm, scurrying closer and closer to their goal, their feast.
Matthew took full control and turned Pensword’s head to hide deep under the folds of Grif’s wing, shivering and whimpering. “Worse than First Contact. So much worse,” he spoke in Dragonic.
“It’s not over yet,” Grif promised him.
A high piping flute sounded over the triumph of the demonic horde, and with it came a sudden stillness in the air. Then eight pillars of light descended to the earth to surround the party. Eight handbells rang simultaneously, their tree-like design a firm source of light to symbolize their connection to the divine. The pillars shattered, scattering bullets of light into the shadows and causing shrieks of pain and outrage to dissipate as holes were punched briefly into the curtain that had drawn itself over the city. The mists had turned a malevolent green mixed with tinges of black that billowed and heaved around the corpses and the priest. A ninth figure materialized above the dancers in an orb of light that slowly peeled back like a lotus to reveal a beautiful Kitsune maiden dancing as she played her flute.
The mists roiled and began to dissipate, revealing the earth as the nine shrine maidens worked in perfect synchronization. Each step, each ring, each trill of the flute sent a pulse of light that rippled and joined, strengthening as they passed through one another before striking against the Tsuchigumo and the curtain of darkness they had brought with them.
The nine continued to dance together to a series of steps as old as time, and the light began to build, streaming from the flute player to the other maidens and back again as together, they called on a greater power. The Tsuchigumo reared angrily as they sought to destroy this opposition before it had the chance to stop them. As one, the maidens on the ground raised their bells. The wave pulsed once more, and yet again the demons were pushed back as the shrine maidens spun in their ceremonial robes, colored ribbons trailing from their bells as they continued their dance, then jumped into the air to stand there as the bells rang again.
Continuing their ritual, the maidens waved their bells like wands as the streams of light rose and spiraled around them and continued to gather. The outline of a kimono and the hint of a bodice shone around them as a figure rose and formed, its head shaped from a union of all the lights. The great dragon rose from its place to circle the figure before landing on its shoulders and nuzzling the figure’s cheek. The entity opened its mouth, and a familiar laughter filled the air that caused Hammer Strike’s mane to prickle.
“Ah, the Miko Kagura. It’s this kind of thing that reminds us that Unicorns still only scratch the surface of magic,” Clover noted almost wistfully.
Two star-filled eyes opened to gaze down upon the proceedings as the maidens were enveloped by the curtain of light. The entity looked upon the Tsuchigumo and took in the state of the city. Even as the music and bells continued to play, it raised an arm to reveal a great hand. Multitudes of galaxies swirled within as it opened and gently stroked the dragon’s head. The dragon rumbled and purred in response before dropping its orb into the entity’s palm. The woman, for that was the shape it had taken, and not a Kitsune, gently curled Her fingers around the pearl. Streams of light filtered between the fingers before the fingers unfurled to reveal an orb of pure light. It broadened and expanded until She held not an orb, but a fan made of pure light. She raised it to her lips with a coy smile. Then, in one fell swoop, She swept her arm across the expanse, sending a torrent of light through the streets in one swift blow and rending the curtain of darkness.
Three of the five Tsuchigumo had been cleansed, vaporized by the light, along with their forces, and with their destruction, the darkness was far less potent. She turned on the remainder of the force. The creatures began to crawl backwards, seeking shelter in any shadows they could find to crawl away. She would not have it. The moon’s rays shone brightly on the ground as She raised Her arm like an empress. With one authoritative wave, the creatures cried in agony as the light rent them apart, consuming them, and ultimately destroying their forces. Laughing, She kissed the dragon on its snout, and it opened its mouth to reveal a tiny orb of light. It closed its mouth again and nuzzled Her one more time before flying back to the palace to enter the doors once again as the gold glowed brightly before returning to its normal self. With one last laugh, She disappeared in a shower of golden sparks that scattered across the capital, blessing the land with a sense of abiding peace as all returned to normal. The nine maidens slowly descended before collapsing to the ground and panting for breath.
The priest nodded his approval and continued on his way, pealing the bell as he and the corpses that were his charges made their way down the winding streets and out of sight. That entity, whatever She was, had assured there would be peace this night. There would be no need to fear anymore.
“Beautiful, aren’t they?” a familiar voice chuckled as he looked down on the maidens. Somehow Haku had managed to arrive while their attention was diverted, without being seen.
“I hope you’re not talking about those things,” Grif growled.
“I was referring to the shrine maidens,” he said mildly. “My granddaughter is among them.” He smiled as he pointed at the flute player. “She has a great deal of magic, much like me, but she also has the warrior spirit from Kurama and his family.” He chuckled. “We always did butt heads growing up. She’s just like him.”
“Just as stubborn?” Hammer Strike asked jokingly.
“Would you believe even more so? She wouldn’t even let me see her these last few weeks.” He shook his head sadly. “She wants to be a warrior, and I, of all people shouldn’t try to stop her from that path, but with her level of spiritual capability, she needs to learn to utilize it to protect herself. Otherwise, she would be an easy target for any yokai or demon.” He sighed. “It’s been an area of sore debate, both between me and Kurama, and between me and her.” He shook his head. “I just wish Nanami would understand. She only has a few years left of training, and then she’ll be able to change classes.”
“May I speak to her then?” Pensword whispered. Even with the spell Clover had cast, he could feel the touch of that divine entity, and there was no other word to describe it but divine. The power still made his feathers and fur stand on end. “I think I may be able to help, as one warrior to another.”
“So then, you wish her death on the battlefield?” Grif asked. “She is in the most important years for developing the martial skill to survive.”
“You of all people should know that our lifespans outstretch even that of your species, Grif Grafson. Our people mature at an incredibly slow rate. She will have time for both, but as it always is with youth, she does not see the wisdom behind my words.”
“And I wish I had more warriors that could.” Pensword closed his eyes. “The battlefield brings nightmares and demons. If she is to become a warrior maiden, then she will learn both, and master both. It could even lead to the creation of a new school of study within your society, but to do that, to marry the two, she must understand both,” he said with a smile. “If you do not mind my boldness in speaking.”
“You both are fools, if you believe that,” Grif said as he spread his wings. “Live as long as you want. The brain still has its limits, and you are forcing her to waste immeasurable talent for your choices.” Without a word he lept into the air and flew away.
Pensword sighed. “Great. I am going to hear about this later. Still, it will be her choice in the end. If she is down there, then she is greatly honored, or that is how I see it from my cultural standpoint.”
“She is, but she is not happy.” He sighed. “If there were a way for her to do both at once, then there would be no need for all of this, but as it stands, the capital is under constant attack, and I need her help to teach the warding spells to the next generation.”
“Talk to her tonight as a father. See what happens,” Pensword suggested. He stood up stiffly. “The day will come too soon when I will have to speak to my own daughter. Far sooner than I want.”
“Touched by Time, is she?”
“No, but that is what I have heard all stallions and fathers say over the years. And with how I live, and have lived, I know it will come sooner or later, but it will never be on my timetable.”
Haku nodded knowingly. “Perhaps you could shed some light on the problem, Hammer Strike,” the old Kitsune said. “I’ve been meaning to spend some time with you anyways. We have much to discuss.”
“The time will come one day, but until then, we’ll just have to enjoy the present,” Hammer Strike replied. “Plenty of years to catch up on. But then again, I don’t have doubts someone’s been keeping tabs on me,” he finished with a chuckle.
Haku laughed. “And you thought that was going to change?”
“Not at all. To be honest, I expect you kept an even closer eye on me.”
Haku winked mischievously. “Would I do that?”
“Yes. Without a second thought to it.”
“Aiyah! Are you going to be standing there yapping all night, or is someone going to let Uncle in? Cold weather is not good for Uncle’s bones, and Uncle is very tired. You want Uncle to die from hypothermia? No? Then you open the gate!”
“We should probably help him out, eh?”
Haku laughed. “Come along. My star pupil gets grouchy when he doesn’t have his coffee.”
“One more thing! Did Uncle hear somebody say coffee?”
“Battle is instinct.” Grif looked across at the young Kitsune before him. To most observers it would seem Grif was instructing a young male, who held a nodachi with the handle high and the blade slanted towards the ground. They would not see the honored granddaughter of two of their great masters looking determined to master the weapon. “You think of strategy, but you do not think of battle. It is a feeling, a rush, an impulse. It is the thunderstorm inside, the lighting striking the ground, the thunder crashing through the sky. Do not plan, simply do,” he instructed her.
Her ear twitched as a stone the size of a fist flew at her. In an instant, she jumped and spun, slashing with the blade and deflecting the blow.
Grif swept with a rake, catching her by the foot paw and flipping her over. “Don’t pause. Move forward. Block. Find an opening and press the attack,” Grif urged her. “Forget everything the priests taught you.”
Nanami spat the dirt from her mouth as she rose to try again, once more entering her battle stance. She smirked. “That shouldn’t be too hard.”
She repeated the deflection of the stone, this time moving to strike Grif’s rake by turning in mid air and using the momentum of the blade itself, only to be caught off guard by another rock from her right side.
“You're not dead, so ignore the pain,” Grif called as another rock came at her from behind.
Nanami grit her teeth and slashed down, cutting through the wooden rake like paper. She huffed as the bruises began to sting, and sweat ran down her brow. She grunted. “Too soft,” she muttered.
“You definitely have the potential.” Grif smiled as he looked at the rake. The cut was clean. “You’re going to be a real nightmare on the battlefield.”
“How about we just focus on the training?” She smirked, then produced a few scrolls from her bag. “These are techniques my grandfather wanted me to practice after he left, but no one is willing to teach me right now. You’re the closest thing I have to a sensei, so I think I can trust you to help me with this.”
“I’m honored,” Grif said, accepting one of the scrolls and opening it. His eyes scanned the scroll in a very familiar bird-like fashion. “This is ... really advanced stuff. He’s combined basic techniques to form such an advanced result.” Grif smirked. “You aren’t too attached to sleep, I take it?”
“You’re asking a shrine maiden who just helped banish a horde of demons and is still fighting now instead of going to sleep it off. What do you think?”
“Okay, we’re going to have to meet late at night to keep this whole thing under wraps. Also, here, you can borrow this,” Grif said, pulling a book from his bag. “You read Equish?”
“Naturally.”
“Many scholars would kill for this book. It technically doesn’t exist in your world. No questions,” he cut off sternly. “This is The Book of the Five Circles. It was written by a very skilled swordsman. I want you to make yourself a copy and return this to me before I leave. Understand?”
She nodded. “If it will help, I will do as you ask.”
“Uh, guys, we’ve got some monks that want to see you. Something about looking for Ping?” Vital Spark said as he approached the pair.
“I guess that's it for now then,” Grif said. “Practice forms one and three when you get a chance, and try to read the first chapter of that book,” Grif told her. “Now go, and I’ll cover for you.”
Nanami nodded and ran for the two warriors in question, chatting up with them like they were old friends. It would seem they must have known one another during the escort.
“Thanks for doing this.” Grif turned to Vital. “I know it seems underhanded, but she has so much potential, and she deserves a chance to express it.”
“You do understand why her grandfather does what he does though, right?”
“Fear isn’t a good excuse.” Grif shrugged. “A warrior can fight spirits just as a priest can. The only difference is the means.”
“Grif, it’s not fear. It’s love.”
“I hope I never restrict my daughters with such love. Love must always remember to allow for free will, or else it’s not much better than slavery.”
Vital sighed. “You’ll get it when you’re older.”
“Possibly.” Grif sighed. “But after a thousand years, you start to have doubts.” He chuckled.
“Oh, you know you’re not older than fifty.” Then Vital laughed. “You know, it’s weird having all my friends be more than twice my age.”
“Hammer Strike’s closer to triple,” Grif pointed out.
“You know, I wouldn’t be surprised if he wanted to punch you right now.”
Hammer Strike’s ear twitched as he put his cup back down. “I feel like someone is talking about me, and I’m not sure if it’s insulting or not…” He frowned and hummed faintly.
“How strange. So your ear twitches. Here in Neighpon, most of the time I sneeze when someone is talking about me like that,” Haku said pointedly as he drank his tea.
“Still sneeze your name after all these years?”
“Not too often anymore, but when I do, most people know to duck.” He chuckled. “If not, they learn just how hot my breath can be.”
“I bet that’s always fun.” Hammer Strike chuckled faintly. “How were things upon your return back here after our time together?”
“Chaotic, to say the least. There’s always a rebellion or uprising going on every few decades. If it weren’t for the blessing of the Goddess, I doubt the emperor’s line would be here today.”
“I guess some things never change, eh?”
“Regrettably. Things have gotten better with the policy changes we introduced, though. Few, if any, have to take a path prescribed by another. Unfortunately, my granddaughter happens to be one of those few.”
“She’ll find her path, one day, by some means,” Hammer Strike replied softly. “I’m sure of it.”
“If she is determined to take the path she wishes, I can only see one option for her.”
“There is always more than one path to everything, Haku. You should know that.”
“But the opportunity was never present before until now. I think you know what I’m getting at.”
“Then that means the paths will become clear sooner than you expect.”
“Then you will take her with you?”
“If that’s the path she want’s to take, then I can make it happen.”
“I don’t think she’ll want to hear it from me. Would one of you be able to approach her?”
Hammer Strike gave a faint grin.
“You already planned to at the wall, didn’t you?”
“I always enjoy planning at least five steps ahead. This time I wasn’t the only one thinking ahead on this topic.”
“Is that so?” He took another sip of his tea. “Then I do believe I owe you my thanks.”
“I’m not the one to thank. I’m not doing the talking.” Hammer Strike sighed. “I always enjoyed these talks.”
“The ones where you were always ahead?” Haku smirked.
“Those, too, but just … conversation in general.” He frowned. “I’m being seen more as a leader, and in the process, I don’t get to have just normal conversations about anything. My conversations with Pensword mostly consist of my work or his now.”
“Why not simply talk with them about it? You never seemed the type to shy away from it before.”
“I’ve tried. It doesn’t change.”
“Not even with Grif? I hear his bluntness is legendary.”
“He understands the problem, and tries to work against it, but that blood oath he made to me all those years ago still changes how he is around me to this day.”
“And this change disturbs you.”
“It’s just how it is. It’s how events played out.”
“Then change the course.”
“I will one day. One day.”
“Do not put off for tomorrow what you can do today.”
“Today is much too packed, as well as the rest of this week,” Hammer Strike replied. “I’ll wait for our return to Unity.”
“You promise?”
“I promise, Haku. Now enough changing topics. I want to catch up on things, not talk about current events.”
Haku smiled sadly. “Well, I suppose we were going to hit this sooner or later.” He pulled down his robe to reveal a series of black circular markings over his fur on his shoulder. “Then let’s get you caught up.”
Pensword dressed in his military armor. Today was when he would be shopping for a military weapon, something unique and alien to confuse his opponents. He checked one of his pouches again, confirming his wing blades were safe and secure. It was hard to lose the pair when they’d served him so well, but assuming he could receive a top quality weapon, he was willing to part with it.
He followed the directions Haku had given, and found himself standing in a large open stone building with a round furnace at its center. A bench off to the side held an assortment of tools and instruments. The anvil lay only a few feet from the entrance. A large, possibly black, though pensword could not be sure he wasn’t just covered in soot, three-tailed Kitsune stood over the back bench working on a knife with an engraving tool. So absorbed was he in his work that he hadn’t looked up or even acknowledged the Pegasus’ arrival.
Pensword stood silently and waited for the Blacksmith to finish. In Thestral tradition, the weaponsmith was a mighty and high position, and poor was the warrior that interrupted a smith in the middle of a project for his own desires. As he waited, Pensword recalled a legend of a warrior that stood three days before being granted the time to speak to the weapon smith.
The kitsune looked up for a moment, did a double take realizing it was a Pony in his forge, and then cleared his throat.
“Can I help you?”
Pensword nodded. “I learned you were a master amongst your peers. Haku gave you the highest recommendations. I was wondering if you would be willing to indulge in an old warrior’s notion.”
“I’m listening,” the smith said.
Pensword removed the saddlebag and carefully revealed the wingblades. “I was wondering if you could create something akin to this. This … was the weapon I was known for. I would like something made after the style of your people, if you are willing to take on the task.” As an afterthought, he made a note to himself to search the town for a pitch fork. Matthew may not be able to get his rare coins here, but they could make do with weapons, and both would be able to agree upon it, helping to strengthen their unity.
The Kitsune left his work and moved to the wingblades. He examined the design over and over again, almost greedily. “I wouldn’t be able to quote you,” he noted. “There is no way to know how much material it will take. Did you have a metal in mind?”
“The best for cutting edge and durability. I care not for the cost nor for the type of metal, only for the best my station can afford.”
“Come back in a week,” the smith said. “I’ll probably need to make adjustments at that point. It could be another couple days after that.”
“Very well, and the set you see before you, if you need to tear it apart, do so. That is for you to understand the workings of the Wingblade.”
“Yes, yes.” The Kitsune wasn’t even paying attention as he grabbed some paper and a piece of charcoal and began working on designs.
Pensword smiled, turning to the guide who had acted as translator for the conversation and nodded his head, signaling their departure.
Grif kicked himself as he thought about everything from prior to this moment. He stared up at the easily half ton black bear that greeted them when they arrived. He had initially thought the land inhabited only by Kitsune. Seeing the yokai before him caused his mind to jump to several statues of large racoons that he now realized had actually been watching them, or the fact that their glasses had been constantly refilling themselves during the banquet. It seemed other types of yokai did inhabit the land, leaving Grif with two obvious questions. First, which types were there? And second, why were they hiding?
“Welcome to the temple of warriors,” the deep gruff voice of the bear said as he bowed. “My name is Tohru, and at my master’s request, I will be your guide for the day.” His hair had been tied up in a bun reminiscent of a samurai or sumo wrestler. He certainly had the build for the latter.
Pensword looked up and did his best to quell the feeling of intimidation while Matthew was trying to understand why Tohru was tickling his memory. Fox Feather stood at his side as his escort, so in all technicality, this could well be viewed as a date. He wished the others could have come as well, but all of his other troops, including Lunar Fang, were currently engaged in interviews for the Kitsune libraries. He hoped that the Kitsune would fulfill their promise to give her a tour of the temple later when they were done with her interview.
“You‘ve competed in sumo?” Grif asked him.
“My brothers and I. We wrestle for dominance. I just happened to come out on top, so I was the one that had to defend our people when my … former master came.”
“I don’t mean to pry,” Grif said, “but I’ve noticed generally only Kitsune seem to walk about in the open. Are the Nekoyama cats napping? The Tanuki just shy?”
“Most of them are lesser spirits, bound to service, or occasionally volunteering for it. Servants are generally not seen or heard unless their master wishes it.”
“Too bad,” Grif said “I’ve heard Tanuki are much more impressive at transformations. Still, it’s an honor to have you guiding us, my friend.” Grif nodded his beak to Tohru
“It’s a pleasure. Many of the strongest of us yokai stay here and tend the temple while training future warriors for combat and field work. My mother happens to be one of the finest instructors in all of Neighpon. Just … don’t mention her height if you meet her.” He tapped his claws nervously.
“I am Grif. This is commander Pensword, his wife, Fox Feather, and my wife, Avalon. By the looks of things, my friend, you know quality in battle, and wisdom as well. I imagine quality in some of the delicacies of the culture, so tell me, where will we begin?”
“The training yard, where our acolytes are put through weapons training and guided meditation to help them find their center, and achieve inner peace.”
Pensword felt intrigued to see this unique method of training. Perhaps he might be able to utilize it back at New Unity with the new cadets. Matthew, on the other hand, was interested in the inner peace, and what that could offer him as he tried to maintain harmony with his Pony half.
Tohru led them past a great shrine gong forged from solid gold hanging from two thick ropes. Just beyond it lay the stone courtyard and the great red arches that symbolized passing from the realm of the physical to the realm of the spiritual. Here, many Kitsune, Tanuki, Nekos, and others passed through row after row of students, adjusting posture, administering chastisement, and otherwise aiding in the student’s development. Occasionally, a stray bray would break out as a student found himself turned into a donkey as punishment for slacking off.
“We also have a separate courtyard where hand-to-hand combat is practiced by our more gifted students. You can see them over there now, as a matter of fact.”
“Tsunami strike!” a voice yelled as a small yellow blur moved through the air suddenly, unleashing a large blast of water towards the other end of an arena. For a moment the blur stopped moving, just long enough for them to make out a tiny-looking Kitsune with the fur on his head shaved almost to the skin, wearing a red training garb.
“Seismic kick!” A large bull-like figure wearing a similar red gi and an unmistakable stetson shouted, stomping onto the ground and sending up a large chunk of earth and stone to block the water strike.
A large weasel flipped off the earth user’s back, then smacked his hands together, sending a massive shockwave of wind in the small yellow Kitsune’s direction. “Typhoon boom!”
“Ha! Nice try, Rai, but not this time,” a boisterous voice called from the skies. “Judolette Flip!” A massive wave of fire consumed the tunnel as a bird-like creature descended. Her delicate legs were ringed in glowing metal, making them unbreakable as her talons flashed. Her feathered wings fluttered and wavered between white, gold, and red with just a hint of black beneath her beak and in the ruff of her torso. Her crest was also black, and flowed backwards into two jutting portions that looked more like pigtails. Her blue eyes flashed as she grinned.
“All right, students, that’s enough. We have guests,” a familiar voice called. An elderly Kitsune with a blue vest and white garments stepped out. A slim green snake with tiny arms and legs hung from his shoulders.
“You do not need to stop on my account. I am a warrior, and I enjoy watching training,” Pensword said.
“Hey, it’s you!” the snake zipped through the air to cling to Pensword’s face and let out a giddy squeal. “The legendary Pensword!” He whipped out a heavy book from thin air behind his back and shoved it in the Pegasus’ face. “Can I have your autograph? Oh Please, oh please, oh please, let me have your autograph!”
“Who are you?” Pensword asked, crossing his eyes to look at this creature hugging his face. He barely managed to restrain Matthew’s impulse to scream.
“You must forgive Dojo,” the older Kitsune chuckled as he approached. “He is our local dragon, and the descendant of the guardian dragon who protects the royal palace.”
“You need a ride, I’m at your service,” Dojo said with a grin and a bow.
The entire group spread their wings as if to make a point.
Pensword just smiled as he folded his wings. “I can give you an autograph if you want. Still, thank you for your … rather enthusiastic greeting.”
“So you’ll sign my autograph book?” Dojo’s eyes suddenly grew cartoonishly huge as he squeed his excitement.
“Sure,” Pensword answered as he took the proffered brush and inkwell. “One question. Would putting my signature into this book bind me to some spell or the like?”
“No, no! What do you take me for, a fallen Imugi? Yeesh. I’m not my sleazy brother, you know.”
“I have to be careful. Different culture and magic,” Pensword answered as he signed his name.
“Thanks.” Dojo extended a clawed hand to shake. Pensword obliged. Dojo let out another squeal. “I’ll never wash this hand again.”
“Impressive little gust your weasel student there created. When does he learn to hurt his opponent?” Grif chuckled
“The point of his style is redirection,” the older monk explained. “When he is ready, he will learn how to use the wind as you do.”
“As in he redirects the spectator’s attention by making little gusts of wind instead of throwing actual force at the opponent?“
“As in I could wipe the floor with you any day of the week,” the weasel boasted with a toothy smirk.
“Raimundo!” the master scolded.
“The wind is about being clever.” Grif stared him down with his own self-satisfied smirk. “So how exactly did you get control of it?”
He shrugged. “I’m a natural.” He extended his paws smoothly to either side in a casual shrug.
There was a blast of wind from the spot Grif had stood. Almost instantly he reappeared in front of Raimundo. “One attack doesn’t make you a natural, kiddo. It makes you predictable.”
“Oh yeah? Then predict this!” In a blur of motion he was gone. A giant shockwave blew towards Grif from behind.
Pensword smirked.
Grif made no point to move as the shockwave hit him and blew past. His fur and feathers ruffled in the breeze. The area around them went silent as Grif flew slowly to the ground and walked over to Avalon. There was a loud clunk as Grif untied his armor and let his weapons harness slip to the ground. His holster came next, followed by each and every one of his stilettos. Naked and completely unarmed, Grif turned to Raimundo and made his way back over to him. “You know, I’m a few days off my workout. So come on, weasel boy. Just me and you.” He smirked with total and complete confidence. “Let's see how you do.”
“Raimundo. As you friend, and your senior, I must stand against this foolishness. If it were me, it would be another story. After all, I am the strongest, most talented, most experienced, and best monk here. But you, Raimundo, you are still undisciplined. You cannot even walk on five fingers yet! I must urge you to reconsider!” he said as he stood in front of the relatively taller weasel.
Raimundo casually grabbed the Kitsune by the head and pushed him aside, leaving drag marks on the cobblestones. “Yeah, yeah, whatever short stuff. Just because you’ve been training longer doesn’t mean you know everything.”
“I don’t know, Rai, the little guy kinda has a point this time,” the bull-headed oni said. “That there fella's got a lot of magic on his side. All you’ve got is your base element so far.”
“You, too, Clay?” Raimundo complained. “Geez, guys. You worry too much.”
“Or not enough,” Grif taunted.
“Rai, don’t be an idiot. You know we’re not ready. You haven’t even been able to so much as touch Master Fung yet,” the bird-girl said.
“Don’t worry, pretty bird, I won’t hurt your boyfriend too badly,” Grif called back.
A blood vessel throbbed on the side of her head, and an aura of flames surrounded her as she turned to face the Gryphon. “That’s it, let me at him! Let me at him!” she screeched, breathing flames from her mouth, even as the ogre and Kitsune clutched at her arms and legs to keep her steady.
“Oh, Avalon, sweetie, it looks like I hit a nerve.” Grif chuckled.
“Please, Kimiko. Now is not the time for letting your anger get the best of you,” the yellow one said. “Remember the storm!”
The girl was actively trying to snap her beak at her captors. “Oh we’re way past the storm, Omi,” Kimiko seethed.
“Easy there, Darlin’. This here’s Rai’s fight. He picked it, and now he’s gotta reap what he’s sown. Now … settle … down!” the bull-headed ogre grunted as he held Kimiko back.
“Come on!” Grif called with a cocky smirk. “I’ve got stuff to do today.”
“Well this is going to be fun,” Pensword muttered as he settled on his hooves to watch.
Raimundo chuckled. “I’m part of the wind, bro. If I wanted to, I could leave a hundred cuts on you in all the right places, and you’d never even see me.”
“Overconfidence most often leads down the path of victory for only a short while before winding its way to the valley of defeat,” Master Fung quipped.
“Well this time, it’s not going down that way,” Raimundo countered. And then he was gone.
For a moment Grif did nothing. Then, out of nowhere, he ducked just as Raimundo’s fist materialized where his head had been. “Too slow,” Grif said as he locked his talons around the weasel’s arm and used the yokai’s momentum to throw him forward. “Try again.”
This time, Raimundo favored a series of feints, leaving behind multiple clones before they attacked as one.
Grif extended his left wing and swept it out, sending a heavy gust at the entire group.
They all clapped their hands together. Only one released the typhoon.
“Just like that,” Grif said from behind Raimundo as the after-image fizzled out of existence, “you give it all away.” Grabbing the weasel by the collar, he flipped around and sent Raimundo hurtling towards the ground. “Try again.”
Raimundo barely kept himself from slamming into the stones and breaking practically every bone in his body. Angry, he flashed his claws, letting their light catch in the morning sun as he glared.
“You’re not the only one with weapons, boy,” Grif said, flashing his talons. “Put those butter knives away before you get hurt.”
Raimundo charged, his body blurring as he rushed on all four legs. The wind seemed almost to howl behind him as his eyes glowed red.
Seconds before those claws reached Grif’s face, he grabbed Raimundo’s arm and held it aloft. The look on his face was blank as he lifted a lethally sharp talon up to Raimundo’s neck. The tip dug in ever so slightly. “You listen up, and listen good, boy. I have killed far too many with these claws to know how deadly having them can be. One swipe of the hand can hurt your enemies, and your friends. These blades don’t distinguish because you feel they should. With a flick of this finger, I could leave your bloodied carcass lying on the ground. Do you understand me?” Grif’s eyes bored into the weasel’s. “Answer me,” he ordered.
Raimundo gulped, but otherwise remained silent. His glare didn’t have much fire behind it anymore, though.
“I believe you have made your point, Avatar of Winds,” Master Fung said smoothly. “If you would kindly put young Raimundo down, he and I have some things to discuss.”
“If I ever hear you turned your claws on an ally, I will find you,” Grif whispered before withdrawing his talons and releasing the yokai.
“I don’t know whether to be amazed or frightened,” Tohru said honestly as Grif approached.
Pensword looked at the Weasel, then at Grif, then at his own wings, and frowned. He had just been upstaged by a weasel, and he wasn’t quite sure what to think of that. Grif, he could understand, but a bit of his pride had been pricked at seeing what Raimundo could do.
Kimiko made short work of raimundo, knocking him on the side of his head with a well-placed kick while the bull-headed ogre did the same with his fist for the other side. Two throbbing lumps stood on either side of the weasel’s head as the monks retreated within the temple.
Tohru shook his head. “And these four are supposed to become some of the empire’s greatest defenders.” He sighed. “They have a long ways to go.”
“Wearing your temper on your sleeve can be deadly,” Grif noted as they headed for the exit. “Now how about finding us a tea shop?”
“I know just the place. It’s called the Jasmine Dragon.”
“You know, Shifu, they really do make an excellent herbal tea here,” Vital Spark said with a smile as he took another pleasant sip from the cup. “And it feels so peaceful.”
“Glad you think so,” Clover said as she took in the scent of her own tea carefully.
“I never did get to try jasmine before. Chamomile and mint were my usuals, and the occasional fruit tea.” He took another sniff and added just a tad more honey before stirring and sipping. “Just right.”
“And very relaxing, too,” a somewhat portly grey Kitsune said as he stroked his beard. “My nephew and I raise all our own plants. As you can see, tea always tastes better when brewed fresh from the source.” He winked. “Of course, it helps being over three hundred years old.”
Vital laughed. “Were it not for the tails, I would think you were no older than a century. Thank you so much for such a wonderful treat, and for the lotus flowers.”
The old Kitsune bowed. “It is, as always, a pleasure to serve my customers. Though, I am curious what a pair of Unicorns such as yourselves are doing so deep within the capital. It’s a rare thing for an outsider to visit our humble shop.”
“We’re here with Lord Hammer Strike, who was invited by Master Haku,” Clover explained. “I merely wanted to see the sights without the bias of the guide.”
“An excellent decision indeed. The Heaven’s Crest is always a good tourist site. Many a young kit seeks to gain wisdom beyond their years from the ancient imoogi and the celestial dragons that are said to dwell there,” he suggested.
“Maybe.” Clover nodded. “It would be enlightening to learn more about your culture.”
The bell rang, and the old Kitsune bowed respectfully. “Excuse me. It would appear we have new customers. Call my nephew if you have any need for further assistance.” With that, he approached the door to behold yet another Unicorn mare. “Well, the spirits have been very kind to me today, it would seem. Such a lovely lady with such a handsome friend. Will it be a table for two?”
Rarity giggled. “My, what impeccable manners.”
“Any who did not show you the proper respect would deserve none in return. I am Iroh. Welcome to the Jasmine Dragon.”
“We’ve heard some great recommendations,” Hammer Strike commented. “I am Hammer Strike, and this is Rarity.”
“Ah, the legend become real enters into my humble tea shop. Truly this is a blessing. Come, come, please, make yourselves at home. We have quite a selection to choose from, but for one such as yourself, I would recommend our special blend. Good for releasing tension in the muscles and calming the mind.” He led them to a booth across the aisle from the other two Unicorns.
“Ah, Vital, Clover, what a coincidence,” Hammer Strike chuckled.
“Hammer Strike.” Clover nodded.
“Haku did recommend it. We figured it wouldn’t be such a bad idea to check it out,” Vital said with a smile. “Their jasmine tea is really good.”
“Is that so? Maybe I’ll have to give it a try. I hear the nobles love to import tea from Neighpon. Why, Celestia often orders blends from the capital, if gossip is to be believed.”
“And the fact that we continue to enjoy her patronage is always satisfying,” Iroh said. “So what will it be for the two of you today? Some rice cakes, perhaps, and a few dumplings with your tea?”
“Oh, that sounds positively divine. When you say dumplings, do you mean gyoza?”
“The lady is quite knowledgeable. Yes. We make an excellent vegetable gyoza, though if it is prefered, we can add meat to the mixture,” he said pointedly as he looked to Hammer Strike.
“Just vegetable is fine,” Hammer Strike replied.
The tiny bell over the tea shop door rang once more, and a spry looking Kitsune with red fur and a scar over his left eye smiled.
“Tohru, what brings you all the way out here? I thought we already gave you your mother’s order.”
“I come with new customers.” The great bear laughed. “Just be careful, Zuko. Things always seem to get more lively when they’re around.” Tohru stepped aside to make room for Grif, Pensword, Fox Feather, and Avalon to pass through.
“Will that all be one big table then?” Zuko asked. “Or would you prefer separate?”
“I would prefer a lone table for Fox Feather and I.”
“I’d also like to ask about acquiring a large order of tea when we’re done,” Grif said.
“Of course. I’ll send Uncle over with our list for you to browse while you dine. This way, please.” Zuko smiled as he led them towards a pair of booths and set up their menus. “You’re just in time for our lunch specials to open.”
“I look forward to seeing what you have,” Fox Feather replied, smiling.
“I realize you probably do not carry sushi, but is it possible to get takoyaki?” Grif asked as they followed him.
“Of course. Uncle loves the stuff almost as much as he does his tea.” Zuko chuckled. “Just take a look at your menus, and I’ll be back in a few minutes to take your orders. I need to get Tohru’s usual seat.”
Tohru blushed. “It’s not like I meant to break all those chairs….”
True to his word, a few minutes later, Zuko was carrying a sturdy metal chair a good three to five times his size. He dropped it with a heavy grunt, and Tohru sat down, still blushing.
Fox Feather wasted no time, and smiled as a somewhat winded Zuko turned to their table. “I want your best sake.” She looked to Pensword. “And as for him,” she said, pointing to the commander with a wing, “he would like to try your finest green tea.” She looked at the menu and smiled. “You prepared an Equestrian variant? You really do know how to prepare, don’t you? Well done. For my meal, I’ll have the grilled salmon on rice with….” She frowned. “I don’t recognize those words, but I think I would enjoy that.”
“Make that two,” Pensword added as his hoof ran over the picture on the menu.
“We’ll take a pot of green tea with peach blossom, three orders of takoyaki seasoned however your uncle considers best, and two orders of sakuramochi afterwards,” Grif ordered with only a brief glance at the menu.
“You never did mention how you knew about our takoyaki, not to mention the other dishes,” Zuko noted. “Have you been to Neighpon before?”
“Zuko,” a gruff voice spoke up, “don’t go questioning my customers. Some secrets should remain secret.” Iroh fixed zuko with a knowing stare that, while not a glare, seemed equally withering.
Zuko’s ears dropped as his tail grew limp. “Yes, Uncle.”
“There was no need,” Grif said as Zuko walked away. “But still, thank you. I was hoping to speak with you about purchasing a rather considerable amount of tea.”
“Of course. My stock is always open to those with an appreciation for tea.” The older Kitsune laughed as he clutched to his belly. “Of course, I would need to know which types you need. After all, an old fox like me can only make so much in a year.”
“I’m afraid I don’t have Celestia’s diplomatic resources to keep importing it, so I would require buying at least a year's worth by a measure of a kettle a day, of every green tea type you have available.”
Iroh burst into a coughing fit. “That much? And how long would I have to fulfill such an order?”
“About a week, give or take a day or so.”
“Such an order would require quite a few laborers. You’re sure you can help to pay them all?” Iroh asked as he rubbed his chin pensively.
Grif presented Iroh with the gold tablet.
“... I see,” Iroh said.
“It isn’t ideal, but given that our countries have no economic policy set up that either of us knows, it is all I can do right now.”
Iroh looked Grif over carefully, then reached into his pocket and pulled out a tiny circular tile to place in front of the Gryphon. “Consider this a gift for the business, then. I would certainly say you’ve earned it.” Pulling his hand back, the tile was revealed to have the design of a beautiful blossoming lotus flower that had been painstakingly carved and stained.
A shock of understanding passed behind Grif’s eyes. “I see you favor the white lotus mark,” he said, not realizing what he’d said as he picked it up.
A glint of satisfaction shone in Iroh’s eyes as he smiled. “Not many still cling to the old ways.”
“But those who do can always find a friend?” Grif answered back, the blue swirling in his eyes as the words echoed in his mind.
“Tell me, Grif, are you familiar with pai sho?”
“I’ve heard of it, but I’ve never been given the opportunity to learn to play,” Grif noted. “What with a war to fight and the game being only known to a select few outside your country,” he answered honestly. “But it’s always been an ambition of mine to learn.”
“Stop by the store after we close tonight. It would be my pleasure to teach you.”
“Thank you. I look forward to it,” Grif said, taking a quick glance around as he stowed the tile away. Just for a moment, he met Clover’s gaze, but she looked away immediately. Grif shrugged and lowered his beak with respect to Iroh before the scent of their food approaching hit his nose, and he raised his head to see the tea and dumplings being served. “Ah, good. You're going to love this, Avalon,” he said as if nothing had happened as he reached with a pair of chopsticks and grabbed one of the dumplings, stuffing it into his beak whole.
Avalon laughed. “That eager, Grif? I suppose it must be delicious, then.” She reached over and speared a dumpling with her talon before popping it into her beak. Her pupils dilated as she swallowed, and she immediately proceeded to follow after her husband’s example as the pair entered an eating frenzy.
Hammer Strike couldn’t help but grumble faintly as he was led through the halls of the palace toward the royal archives. As much as he didn’t want to do this, Haku persuaded him into helping the scholars clear up some problems and answer some questions. Of course, he wouldn’t answer everything, but he’d still give something, so they could get off his back.
As was to be expected of the royal archives, they took up the greatest amount of space the Pony lord had ever seen. Bright green and red shelves towered above him, each laden with thousands of scrolls that had been neatly sealed and organized according to the Kitsune scholars’ unique system. It took about five minutes of walking through a literal maze of identical paths before they finally arrived at what appeared to be a conservatory of some type. An indentation in the ground led to a place where an individual could stand to give presentations while colleagues and scholars would sit in the chairs surrounding and rising from that point, allowing for peer criticism and review. Every one of those seats was packed, and several more Kitsune were standing to the side as he waded through the crowd. He sighed. This was going to be a long session, wasn’t it?
“Well now. And here I thought it was going to be a small group…” Hammer Strike couldn’t help but comment. “I am really glad I don’t need a translator,” he muttered in Neighponese.
“At least you won’t have to worry about nobles breathing down your neck?” his escort suggested timidly. The young kit was little more than an assistant, not even in his thirtieth year yet.
“For now; but things tend to change absurdly fast.”
“Your voice will be magically modified to carry across the consortium, so you won’t need to worry about shouting. Good luck, Hammer Strike, and thank you for doing this.”
Hammer Strike sighed as he made his way to the center of the room. “All right, let’s get this over with. So, how do we go about this, you guys ask questions and I answer?”
“That is correct. I shall go first,” one Kitsune spoke. “I have a scroll of questions from some of the younger kits….” He trailed off. “Of course, they put in one of the silly questions.” The Kitsune sighed. “It is an ancient tradition, which has been followed in our consortium from the beginning of time.” He took a deep breath and took on a serious air. “What is your Name?”
“Hammer Strike.”
“What is your favorite Quest?”
“...It would have to be,” he paused, humming to himself. “I don’t think I could list a favorite. They are all very memorable.”
“What is your favorite Color?”
Hammer Strike quietly looked to his blue kimono, remembered his blue coat, and thought to the blue banners of his noble house. “Blue.”
“Thank you. What is your...” He stopped and looked to one of the other Kitsune pleadingly. The elder motioned for him to continue. He rolled his eyes and sighed. “What is the maximum flight velocity of an unladen swallow?”
“Yes.”
“By the gods, he’s solved it! All the secrets of space and time lie open before my very eyes!”
“Wow, from how the rest of the nation acts, I didn’t see that coming. I thought a sense of humor was a rare trait.”
The scholar rolled his eyes. “Forgive my nephew’s impertinence. He inherited a rather unfortunate sarcastic streak and a lack of respect for his elders. I can’t imagine where he gets it from.”
“Wow, that sounds somewhat familiar,” Hammer Strike commented in Draconic.
“Anyways, with that out of the way, the floor is open for questioning. Hammer Strike, you may choose whom you will to ask among those gathered here. We will do our best not to take up too much of your time.”
“Alright then, so ... I guess I’ll pick at random,” Hammer Strike commented as he pointed to the first raised paw he spotted.
“Where and when were you born, Hammer Strike? We’ve had sightings of you throughout time, but we have yet to pinpoint your origins.”
“Paenitet. Ego non dico,” Hammer replied, shaking his head.
The Kitsune immediately wrote it down.
“Master Haku mentioned that you destroyed windigos with a display of magic he’d never seen before. By his account, it was different from your usual fire. Can you elaborate on this?” a silvery-grey Kitsune asked.
“I use something more than magic, but know that this power has only been taught to three individuals, and even then, they will never know as much as I have learned. It would drive them mad, or kill them,” Hammer Strike replied as his hooves burst into normal orange fire, then shifted to a blue hue. After a moment he extinguished the flames and stood, awaiting the response or next question.
“I am amazed to see a being utilize foxfire so… effortlessly. the rumors of your fire control are just as valid as they make it out to be.”
Hammer Strike gave a faint laugh and shook his head as he heard the Kitsune’s response. “Sorry, but I utilize something… a lot more than foxfire.”
“That, but… the laws of fire.... Only Celestia and Kitsune can control fire that finely.”
“Would you believe me if I told you it’s a type of fire you might never be able to recreate? I also want to tell you to never try, as it could kill you very quickly, and burn your soul into nothingness.”
The Kitsune gaped.
After a long period of uncomfortable silence, the next one raised her hand.
“How many weapons have you mastered, and how long did it take for you to reach that level of mastery?”
“Uh … Yes to the first part, and long enough for the second part.”
“We’ve noticed you’ve recently declared your engagement. Does this mean that you have no plans for vanishing again for the foreseeable future?”
“I hope not, but you never know what will happen. I have hope, though, to settle down, perhaps have a child… and I guess, I don’t know, perhaps vanish … for good. To pass on, leaving a legacy behind that will never be forgotten.”
“And what are your opinions on destiny? Also, how did you manage to remain so young when you are well over a thousand years old? Is it something to do with your biology?”
“To answer that simply, I stayed so young all that time because, technically, I always had something to do. There was always something I was needed for. But for the first time, I think there isn’t much more to my road.”
“And what if the world needs you later down the road?”
Hammer Strike shrugged. “Then I guess I’ll be there. Keep in mind, though, I won’t be around to solve every problem in the world. I am mortal. I will be gone one day.”
“I hope not. We need to solve our problems without some last minute save all the time. How else will we teach our kits to be self reliant.”
“Don’t worry. I typically only show up when needed, not if you can solve the problem yourselves.”
The questions continued for several hours as Kitsune came and went, each with their own questions. Some asked for advice, others for information on Hammer Strike’s personal life, and others on his relationships. Eventually, the time finally came for the forum to come to an end as the great gong rang for the evening’s meal. Hammer Strike sighed with relief as the Kitsune dispersed.
“And now you know the rigors we faced when we first returned home,” Haku said with a chuckle as he approached his old friend and teacher.
“I’m sure you were all questioned more. Then again, I’m pretty sure I would have been questioned more if they weren’t limited to how much they could ask…”
“If they could, they would keep you here for days at a time. Trust me, I’ve seen it.”
“I believe it…”
“Would you care to join me for dinner?”
Hammer Strike smiled. “Sure.”
Pensword looked at Lunar Fang, and briefly over at the other Kitsune. He had been bristling his feathers. “Lunar Fang… this is the third time I have had to leave Moon River, and you and Fox Feather both had to come this time. I am the absent father, and I am really disliking that.” He growled. Thankfully, few could understand his Equestrian words. “So you and I are going to need to find the best present possible to make up for us being gone. I am also taking three days off, because the next time, High Chieftess Luna will be the only authority to prevent me from taking my daughter on my next journey.” He shook his head. “According to our schedule, it is Fox Feather’s turn to be interviewed today for her personal account of certain events during the war.” Pensword had stopped in their walk. They could hear the shouts of various venders in the distance, and they knew they were heading in the right direction.
“When we return home,” Lunar Fang said, wrapping a wing around Pensword, “why don’t the four of us take a private vacation for a week? Before the bill goes through.”
“I like that thought,” Pensword answered. “I think I know just where to go, too. Mountainside Falls would be a great place to visit for the week. I can show you the falls, some of the hills around, and … we can see how it has changed from a thousand … from the ruins we saw it in last.”
“It sounds wonderful,” Lunar Fang said as she gave him a kiss.
“Thank you.” Pensword returned the kiss to her cheek. Better to play it safe when the culture here might be offended at public displays of affection. “So…” He looked around the market. “What should we get Moon River?” He twitched an ear as he heard the shouts of the native language of the region all around him. Sure enough, as they turned they next corner, they found the street lined with stalls.
“Are you sure we’re in the right section?” Lunar Fang asked as they examined the baubles and small toys around them. “Shouldn’t we be in the weapons district?” she teased.
“Yes, but I am also shopping for Matthew’s nieces,” he whispered back. “Plus, I think a carving would do nicely with the weapon, and as a little something for you and Fox Feather.”
“Well then, where should we start?” Lunar Fang asked.
“The animal carvings. I think something flying, since as my niece loves to fly so much.” He smirked. “What do you think?”
“What about these?” Lunar Fang said, gesturing her hoof over two jade crane carvings.
“I think they would look great, just maybe not for a...” he paused. “I think four year old. Maybe to her mom for trust,” he added. He looked around at a few of the other toys. “Oh, that looks fun.” The item was a brass ball painted to look like blue flames were licking at its edges. “I think she would enjoy that.”
“It does seem quite eye-catching, Lunar Fang agreed
“Thank you.” He trained his eyes about and smiled as he moved to a small silk doll of a Kitsune with the tails attached to little strings. It was most likely a stage puppet, but it would make a perfect addition to his niece’s menagerie. Besides, he had to buy for a lot more than just those little girls.
“Was there anything else you would like to find, Pensword Sama?” the guide asked.
“Well, I do not know if this is right for me to ask, but do you have any masks? Also where are some of the weapons that are for sale?”
“Masks are normally saved for festivals and carnivals, but I believe I know of a vendor who may be able to help you. As for weapons, that depends on the type you are looking for.”
Pensword looked to Lunar Fang. In Thestral culture it was the Mare who picked the first weapons for the child. He turned back to the Kitsune, nodding his assent. “Then take us to this vendor.”
The Kitsune bowed and guided them to a back stall where a humble array of ceremonial masks had been laid on a cloth over the top of a large wooden crate. Many more masks hung on pegs behind the makeshift counter, and the Kitsune manning the stand smiled welcomingly.
“Welcome, welcome. Come, see my wares. I have much to sell, much to see, yes.” He nodded rapidly and grinned with squinting eyes. His accent was heavy, and a long braid hung behind him as his two tails swayed gently in the breeze. “What can Fong do for you today?”
“First, I am amazed you can speak Equish, so I commend you on knowing that tongue,” Pensword answered as he looked over the masks, hiding the surprise of seeing a very familiar yellow fox mask. A bright blue shining ocarina suddenly flashed across Pensword’s memory, along with just about every piece of lore associated with it and its universe. He could hardly believe that Matthew still remembered that story after all this time. “I am interested in some of your masks,” he answered, letting his ear twitch in the direction of the yellow mask, and the white masks above them.
“What masks would you like?” Fong asked. “We have Oni, Kitsune, yokai, many, many more.”
“Well, I think a couple of the yellow Kitsune Masks, and a few of the white.”
“Oh, yes, yes, good for children, little fillies and foals. Very good, very good.” He nodded and bowed as he gathered the masks in question. “You have money?”
Pensword nodded his head, as he presented the imperial IOU to the merchant.
The merchant’s eyes widened. “Is that real?” he gaped. The translator nodded. “You take anything you like. I even show you special stock. Very rare, very valuable.”
Pensword pulled a Hammer Strike by raising an eyebrow, but in the end he nodded his assent.
Fong flipped the cloth, held it, then flipped it again. The old masks were gone. He laid it on the table and snapped his fingers. In a poof of smoke, jewelry, statuettes, daggers, short swords, even a set of shrine bells and a priestess outfit sat in pristine condition.
“You want it, I got it,” Fong said with a smile. “See something the lady like?”
“Dear?” He asked, looking to Lunar Fang.
Pensword couldn’t help but laugh outright at the look on Fong's face as Lunar Fang picked up one of the larger knives and examined it with the look of a small child examining a new toy.
“The lady has interesting taste. Strong weapons. Forged by Oni in Mount Kazan. Very durable.”
“You didn’t buy these from the same blacksmith,” Lunar Fang called him out instantly as she examined them. So many years of working with Hammer Strike had given her an eye for metal work. “Most of these didn’t even come from the same areas.”
“You question my sources?”
“I question your supplier,” Lunar Fang said with no acknowledgement of the tone. “I think he’s been scavenging weapons and feeding you a story.”
“But weapons are clean, well polished. Even come with fresh supplies to maintain. Very good.”
“I’m not accusing you, my friend, but you may want to question your supplier about the true origin of what he’s selling you. See here.” She pointed to one of the blades. “The sheen off the blade hides it a bit, but you can make out shallow gouges and scratches on the edge. That's caused by bone against the blade. And this one–” she pointed to another. “You can see the point has started to blunt. That comes from piercing armor.”
“But … but …” Fong’s eyes started to water.
“This blade, however.” She picked up one of the knives “This is a truly beautiful piece of work. The blade is sharp, the surface is smooth, and the smith’s indent is still fresh by the hilt.” She nodded. “I’ll take this knife.”
“I’ll take the other three she looked at,” Pensword said, hoping that would save face with the merchant.
Fong sniffled sadly and nodded.
“Is there anything I can do to help?” Pensword asked as he offered to wrap the weapon as well.
Fong shook his head. “Fong must take care of his own matters, though you are kind to wish to help.” He ruffled inside a black sack for a time until he withdrew a small golden silk sack surrounding a rectangular shape. “Here. You help me. Now is time for me to return favor. This powerful guardian talisman called omamori. May save life one day. Please, take it with Fong’s thanks.” He bowed and proffered the item in question.
Pensword bowed his head and took the talisman with a wing. “Thank you. I shall wear it under my jacket,” he answered. Matthew did not think much about it, but Pensword was a firm believer in this type of protection.
“Arigato!” He bowed.
Pensword put the talisman over his neck and smiled as he felt the time had come to move to the next booth. Fong waved kindly after them as they left.
The path leading through the forest was well kept, and cherry blossoms danced on the wind as the many prayer notes and sacred ropes dedicated the trees, and protected them not only from evil, but from any that would seek to cut them down to use for their own fires. A series of arches lined the way, each a gate bearing a particular kanji for an aspect or path within the various sects of the Kitsune society. Hammer Strike passed through each, noting how five other symmetrical paths branched out from the main courtyard. The courtyard itself had been paved with a dark blue, almost black stone with flecks of clear crystal that reflected the sun, giving the appearance of the vast stretches of space and the spirit. Three main buildings surrounded the courtyard, one being the main shrine within the old temple. The other two appeared to be living quarters and the kitchen and dining room.
As Hammer Strike passed through the final arch, he noticed the many statues of Kitsune flanking on either side. Beneath the statues, a metal placard depicted their names, along with a brief description of the path they had taken in life. As he reached the courtyard proper, he looked down to see a large rectangular segment that had been set in with mortar, rather than the beautiful stone that surrounded it. A series of kanji stared back at him as he read through the dedication.
Pasu No Terra:
Does the Walker Choose the Path,
or the Path Choose the Walker?
“Have you come to pay your respects, or do you perhaps seek something more, Hammer Strike?”
The shrine maiden was tall and beautiful. A bandolier of seven bells hung from a clever leather strap designed to hold the clappers in place and prevent the cargo from ringing as she walked. Flowing black hair ran down her back, all the way to her waist. A ceremonial sword with a traditional hilt and guard sat belted to her waist, and unlike the maidens he had witnessed on the night the demons had attacked, this girl wore more practical clothing that had been dyed a shimmering blue. The silk woven into her form-fitting robe formed a series of cascading silver keys. A single white patch marked her forehead with a symbol Hammer Strike had never seen before.
“Would you believe me if I told you I don’t know?” He asked as he looked around. “I just went down a new path and ended up here.”
She smiled. “Then it is here you are meant to be. Most wanderers come when they don’t know where else to go. Others wish to make peace with the dead, so that they can move on. I assume you can still read our language. What do you think of our temple’s name?”
“An interesting choice, considering the six paths along the journey.”
“And those paths branch out into many more. This temple’s purpose is to help people to choose a path and start their journey. Where that journey takes them after will be up to them, and perhaps a little to fate and destiny. It is a question that plagues the soul: does the walker choose the path, or does the path choose the walker? It is my opinion that both prove equally true.”
“It makes sense either way, but my question lies at what if the path that is chosen did not exist until it was made?”
“Then perhaps it willed itself to be made. Or perhaps it waited for one to make it and find it, so that others may travel. Or perhaps you chose it simply by making it. As for you, Hammer Strike, you have indeed chosen a different path. It has been a long one, but all paths must eventually come to an end as you reach your ultimate destination. Are you prepared for when that time comes?”
“I would say I am, but considering how long I have been around, I don’t know,” he replied, sighing softly. “I’m not sure if I can say I’m quite done or if I will be done when the time comes.”
She nodded. “Perhaps, and perhaps not.” She looked closely at him, her expression pensive. “You are what would be considered a bit of an anomaly in the order of things. That puts you in a rather unique position.” She looked to the cherry trees and watched the branches sway in the breeze for a time. At last, she nodded her head and turned back to face Hammer Strike again. “Come with me. There is something you need to see.”
She led him past the dedication and approached the main shrine. Two warriors in white barred the entrance with twin glaives. With the assistance of a curt motion and an intimidating stare, the guards moved aside to let them pass. Inside, a burning pyre danced at the back wall beneath a tapestry portraying the kanji for choice. A large stone pedestal stood prominently in the center of the room. Its faces had been lined with candles and offerings of incense and rice. Two mounting legs had been laid evenly along the block’s edges, where a dim outline could barely be made out curving outward and up towards the ceiling on either side. Were it not for his sharp eyes, Hammer Strike could have sworn the sacred charms hanging on either end of the weapon were floating. The shrine bells hung over the sword, as if the god of the temple itself were watching over it.
“You know of Gakushu and his fate. Is that not so?”
“Yes, I heard.”
“It was a noble sacrifice, and a path he was happy to choose, even though he knew his death was at hand.” She approached the shrine and shook the bells, clapped her hands together, and bowed. When she had finished, she rose again. “This shrine is dedicated to Gakushu for his work, and all that he accomplished before he passed. This katana is one of his last creations, and one of his best.”
“He’s come so far from the young kit I trained. Would it be possible to … see the blade myself?” Hammer Strike asked. “I ... would very much like to see his best.”
“You are the one who mentioned making the path. Like all things, it is your choice.”
After a moment Hammer Strike reached out and grabbed the sheathed blade. The metal was cool to the touch, and as his eyes flared briefly, he could see the intricate spellwork that had gone into giving the sheath its nigh-perfect invisibility as a rainbow of tiny chained energies and characters flowed over, around, and through the metal. Perfection in all things. That’s what he’d taught Gakushu to strive for in his work. It appeared Gakushu had not put that lesson to waste.
He slowly pulled at the handle, and the sword emerged without so much as a sound. A deep dark blue metal stared back at him, its surface perfectly polished to the point where he could see himself in the broad side of the blade. The crescent curve and razor edge were carefully refined. He recognized the techniques. He’d taught them to that little kit all those years ago. Looking down to the base of the sword, he noticed a series of Kanji.
“‘I was made for the pathmaker,’” Hammer Strike read aloud. “...Wait a minute… Didn’t you just...?” He turned towards the shrine maiden.
“I did nothing but discuss the purpose of our temple. It is you who spoke of the maker.” She smiled. “It is possible I may have seen the inscription previously,” she conceded. “But your words are what moved me to bring you here. And it would appear I was not wrong in my decision,” she said, pointing towards the blade.
The kanji had begun to glow, letting out golden light that slowly spread along the honed edge like water. In a matter of moments, golden flames had engraved themselves into the metal, gilding the blade to add to its value, even as Hammer Strike felt the magic of the sword synchronizing with his own.
“It’s almost like he knew,” Hammer Strike said as he looked over the blade one more time.
“Before he passed, Gakushu said the sword would guide its master to the end of his path, wherever that path might lead. He seemed to favor breaking the mold, a trait he learned from you, no doubt.” The maiden smiled. “Will you name it?”
“I’m thinking … Ouroboros.”
“An interesting name. Tell me, pathmaker, would you like to pay your respects before you continue on your journey?”
“Yes.”
“Then I, Sabriel Abhorsen, am at your service,” she said with a formal bow. “Let us begin.”
Vital Spark sighed as he sat on a flat boulder next to the meditation pool in the royal gardens. Despite all the amazing adventures he’d been on, part of him could still hardly believe any of this could be real. He had traveled to the Equestrian equivalent of the Orient, met a chi wizard, tasted some of the most fantastic herbal tea he had ever drank in his life, met an incarnation of chaos, met said incarnation’s counterpart, and the list went on. He was learning magic for crying out loud! Something that would have been unheard of back on Earth. It was a great comfort to know that he had friends and people he could count on here to help him, but it was also sad, because he knew he would have to return home soon enough, and when he did, there wouldn’t be any coming back.
He sighed again and shifted his position, doing his best to clear his heart and calm his troubled mind. This was meant to be an exercise in maintaining calm and inner peace. He needed that right now.
“You okay?” Clover asked as she approached from the cobblestone path.
“Just trying to achieve inner peace.” He chuckled as a certain old red panda flashed briefly across his mind.
“You’re not ready for that yet,” she said. “Believe me, it’s not what people make of it.”
“I didn’t mean the whole ‘being one with cosmic energies’ thing. I just meant in the aspect of calming myself and my mind.” He sighed. “I don’t have much time left with my friends, and I’m glad I’ll be able to go home again, to see my family, but at the same time ….”
“You won’t be,” Clover said bluntly. “Because part of you is acclimatized to this world.”
“Pretty much. It’d help if there were some way we could stay in contact or something, but last I checked, interdimensional mail hasn’t been invented yet.”
“Too many problems.” Clover nodded. “But for now, let's move on to lessons, okay?”
Vital Spark sighed as he watched the koi fish circle in the pond. “Whatever you say, Shifu.”
“So today we’re going to be working on some of the basic spells that apparently were not basic enough to be put into Starburst’s One Hundred and Seven Spells Every Unicorn Foal Needs to Learn. Strange, really. You’d figure atomizing objects would be in this book.”
“Why would someone ever want to teach a foal how to break an object down to its molecular structure and disperse it across a room?”
“Because what if they get trapped in a cave or a mineshaft?” Clover asked as though this was entirely too common. Then again, given Equestria’s track record …. “They can destroy rocks and things blocking their path.”
“And there’s no risk of them abusing it at all for their own ends?”
“There is a risk of them abusing levitation for their own ends, too,” Clover said. “Everything is risky.”
“And you want me to be able to use this spell in case I have to face some kind of emergency myself?”
“You're catching on.”
“Nopony’s ever used this spell to … disintegrate a person, right?” he asked nervously, even as he got down off the rock.
“I saw Star Swirl do it once. It was far too messy for my taste.”
Vital Spark paled. “I know it’s up to the user to decide how to use the spell, but … dang.”
“He was taken by surprise, to speak in his defense. One minute we were eating lunch by the road, next minute, there's a troll.”
“Those actually exist here?”
“With everything you’ve seen, you’re questioning a troll?”
“No, I’m just surprised is all.” He shrugged. “I believed in magic a long time before I found evidence it was actually real.”
“Anyway, a few of these spells should come invaluable tomorrow.”
“Um … why?”
“Because I signed you up for a magical contest.”
“You did what?”
“I thought my explanation was straightforward enough. I won’t repeat it.”
“And you didn’t think to consult me on the matter?”
“Hardly seemed worth bothering you about.”
“How is putting me into a contest without my consent something hardly worth bothering about?”
“Because it’s just a contest. Who knows? You might win something.”
“And you never thought to see if I felt confident enough to try a competition like this yet? Seriously, Clover, I’ve only been training under you for a few weeks!”
“Of course you aren't confident enough. No one smart is confident enough before the competition happens.”
Vital Spark facehoofed. “That’s besides the point.”
“Look, we can quibble all day about minor details like what's happening tomorrow, or the fact that it’s nobody's fault, or we can prepare you for tomorrow.”
“All right, first of all, I know you’ll never admit to going over my head because you’re too proud for that, so I guess I’ll leave that to lie for now. Secondly, I’d be a fool not to train with you right now, especially since you’re putting me up against a bunch of Kitsune acolytes, who are natural born creatures of magic, are generally much older than I am, and know a lot more magic than I do right now.” He groaned. “And I know there’s no way you're letting me back down and ruin your good name as my sensei.”
“All of what you just said is true; however, all these acolytes never had one thing going for them that you do.”
“And that is?”
“None of them trained with Clover the Clever.” She smirked. “For them, magic is a straight path, a linear action. Everything is straightforward and sensible. The mages who make these contests are old, Vital Spark. They’ve gotten past the need for the straightforward approach. They see magic as I do, and if I’ve been teaching you correctly, as you do. They make these contests to teach that lesson. They may know every spell on Equis. They may be able to levitate a mountain and not exhaust their mana supply. But in the end, none of them will think outside the box, and that gives us the advantage.”
“So, basically, they’ll be a bunch of special tests that won’t really need or use magic at all, or if they do, they’ll want it in a unique way that doesn’t involve fighting or other basic uses.”
“Now you're catching on.”
“Isn’t it technically cheating to tell me that?”
“No,” Clover said. “There’s never been a rule about it.”
“You do realize that doesn’t necessarily make it right, right?”
“You do realize I don’t necessarily care, right?”
“You should.”
“I should do a lot of unnecessary things, like read the book on this modern ‘magical ethics’ thing, but I don’t, and no one's the worse for it.”
Vital sighed. “Let’s just get the lesson over with already.”
“Very well. Now basic atomization isn’t as complicated….” and Clover began her lecture into the theory.
Grif took a deep breath, taking in the beautiful scent of the tea billowing from his cup. “Green tea with orange zest, and a hint of jasmine?” he questioned his host.
“An old recipe, but one of the best,” Haku said as he took his seat next to the Pai Sho board. “It’s a pleasure to have someone else to play with aside from Iroh for once.”
“It’s an honor to play with you,” Grif said. “I’ve actually been hoping to be able to speak with you.”
Haku smiled. “I’m actually rather surprised you didn’t seek me out sooner.” He chuckled, then took another sip of his tea as he laid out his first piece on the board. “I suppose you wanted to give Hammer Strike and I some time to catch up again.”
“I also needed to gather my own thoughts. This is possibly a more unusual meeting than most of the others. Your people have at least some form of diplomacy with Celestia. Last I was aware, your relationship with my kind was much less friendly.”
“I judge based on a person’s actions, Grif. Just because some or many practice evil does not mean that all do.”
“With all due respect, my actions hardly speak better than my race.”
“Perhaps, but then again, you were young. You still are. Young ones often lose their way along the roads of life. It is part of the adventure.” He pointed to a particular square. “You place the next piece there, by the way.”
“Thanks,” Grif said meekly as he placed the tile where indicated. “So Hammer Strike’s a very self-contained person. I was wondering if I could ask about your time with him?”
“A reasonable request. I don’t see why I shouldn’t oblige you.” He smiled as he placed his own. “Remember, the purpose is to shape the lotus around the lotus. Here next,” he casually corrected as Grif accidentally laid a tile on the wrong square.
“I’m sorry,” Grif said, immediately moving to amend the mistake. “You three were together for several years. I guess the best place to start would be the beginning. How did a Pony meet three Kitsune in an unending blizzard?”
Haku sighed as he took another sip of his tea. “It was my first time out on a genuine expedition. I had hoped to remain within the empire and tend to the records instead, but my father would have none of it. Our scouts had taken note of a powerful magic taking root in the three Pony kingdoms, if you could call them that, and that it was spreading. Concerned for events to come, and for the well being of the other lands, we were ordered to investigate, and were given an escort of some of the finest warriors of the day.”
He smiled sadly, and shook his head. “Unfortunately, no one had expected to encounter the windigos as the cause. Worse still, despite our vast knowledge of demons and evil spirits, our kind had never seen their like before. Our guardians fought well … but they died quickly.”
“Hammer Strike burned them when he found you?” Grif asked.
“He … disposed of them.”
“So it was only the three of you?”
“It was nearly only two. Had it not been for Hammer Strike’s unique abilities, Gakushu would have died that very night.”
“How old were you?”
“We were still very young, just barely to the point where we could leave the compounds.”
“That must have been traumatizing”
“It was, but Hammer Strike was surprisingly gentle with us. He made sure we were able to survive, taught us how to fight, built an entire settlement. The facilities we’d managed to build by the end left us surprised at our own potential.”
“He has a way of bringing out stuff you didn’t know about yourself,” Grif agreed with a chuckle. “What were your friends like?”
“Gakushu was timid and afraid, and with good reason. He was the one who had almost died after all. Hammer Strike was the reason he chose to change his career to become a smith in the first place. As for Kurama …” He sighed sadly. “Kurama and I were more like brothers before we even became brothers. He was stubborn about just about everything he chose to do, and even when he knew he was wrong, he’d go through with an action anyways. He was noble, though. You might even say driven. He wanted to protect us, to keep us safe from harm. He felt it was his duty as the last surviving warrior. After events finally hammered our point home, he finally started to settle down.”
“The way others speak of him, he must have been something to see on the battlefield.”
“He found peace at an early age. Overcoming trauma can do that for you, assuming you’re willing to accept and move on. After he accepted his limitations, his magic became much stronger. It helped having Hammer Strike for an instructor. He was able to incorporate new styles that had never been seen before in our country.”
“It must have been hard for you to be alone all this time.”
“Losing them was very difficult for me, yes. But I do still have family and loved ones, and the time will come eventually where I’ll be called to join them.” He placed the last tile and smiled. “And there you have the lotus. I take it you are already familiar with the name of the technique?”
“The White Lotus Gambit.”
“Correct. And the pass phrases?”
“‘I see you favor the white lotus gambit. Not many still cling to the ancient ways, but those who do can always find a friend.’”
“Excellent,” Haku praised. “You know, you’d be surprised how many members we actually have in Gryphonia.” He winked mischievously.
“Well, there is always more to learn.” Grif chuckled “I suppose I shouldn’t be that surprised.”
“Well, considering you’ve already met the one who helped establish the order in your country, I agree.”
“So you are familiar with the wise one. I don’t suppose you know where I might find the thunderbird?”
“You know, I’ve always been fascinated at what perfect hunters you Gryphons are,” Haku said as he poured some more tea. “So polished, so patient. Yet I’ve only met a few of you that employ the full range of techniques involved in the hunt. I believe you call it the third law, if I’m not mistaken.”
“If you cannot chase the prey, make the prey come to you?”
“Exactly. It saves a great deal of useless effort, wouldn’t you say?”
“I suppose there is wisdom in that, but I’m simply not getting it at this point in time.” Grif chuckled.
“Think on your previous encounters. It will come to you.” He smiled as he cleared the board and reorganized the pieces with a snap of his fingers. “Now then, I believe you’re ready for a real game.”
Rarity, Pensword, Grif, Lunar Fang, Fox Feather, and Vital Spark were eating lunch in one of the main rooms of their suites. Pensword was looking at a very flushed Fox Feather, who had downed yet another cup of Sake with a plastered grin, shouting a slurred phrase as she slammed the cup down on the table.
“Lunar Fang … that was her tenth cup, and she is only now showing signs of being drunk. I fear for her liver,” Pensword said.
Clover just chuckled. “You can thank one of the ancient Unicorns, Grand Magus Panacea. He created a spell that could heal the liver and cleanse it of all toxins after his master’s brother died from liver failure. She’ll be fine.”
During the impromptu history lesson, Fox Feather had downed two more servings. The Kitsune looked on, intrigued by the Pegasus. Pensword shook his head. “At least we are not taking the good Sake.”
Fox Feather grinned and turned to look at Vital. “Hello, handsome” she said with a grin befitting her first name as she drew uncomfortably close. “What brings you to this great war table?”
“Uh … Pensword, I think she’s had enough,” Vital Spark said as he did his best to back away from what would otherwise prove to be a very awkward situation.
“Best to wait until she passes out. Even the meekest Pegasus can be downright scary when you try to separate them from their drink. One time, Pansy had a little too much, and it took me, Smart Cookie, and Hurricane combined to get her to her room. She gave me a black eye in the process, and I was using magic,” Clover said.
“Military rules state that she can have her fun today,” Pensword answered with a laugh, “But I must say, Vital, you must have something about you. She comes from a very old Pegasus military family. For her to hit on you like that, that is saying something, Mr. Pretty Unicorn.”
Vital Spark blushed violently. “Pensword!”
“What? I am only saying that even when my uncle got drunk, he only hit on Thestrals, even when we had visiting Pegasus hunters, and he still declined hits from drunk mares.” Pensword grinned. “Don’t worry. Lunar Fang and I will step in if she tries to go too far.”
“Why me?” Vital Spark immediately proceeded to smack his head against the table, “Ow …” and got his horn stuck in the table.
“Having troubles?” a voice called from the shadows.
“Uh ... Hammer?” Pensword looked around and blinked. “I do not see you, and I do not feel your soul. You are not dead. Why can I not see you?”
“Yeah. Stealth’s supposed to be Lunar Fang’s thing,” Grif noted.
Slowly, Hammer Strike’s figure began to pull away from the shadows. After a moment he rolled his neck. “Gah, that is a weird feeling.”
“Aiyah!” one of the servants exclaimed, beating against his heart with a fist as he struggled to get his breathing back under control.
“That’s cool,” Grif noted.
“Cool, but I need to use it more. I’m neglecting one side of magic in my field,” Hammer Strike replied as he shook his head.
Vital Spark grunted as he pushed against the table, but it wasn’t until he felt Fox Feather’s wings wrapping around his torso that he managed to pull himself free, his eyes wide with terror. A dust cloud copy was all that remained of him as he stood with shaking eyes in the corner next to Hammer Strike.
“Aww,” Pensword cooed as he wrapped his wings around Fox Feather, kissing her as she sniggered at Vital Spark’s reaction. He then proceeded to whack her on the nose. “You were acting drunk?”
“What? I wanted to tease the Unicorn.” Her voice was still slurred, but it was significantly better than it had sounded in the last ten minutes. “He’s funny when he’s flustered.”
Pensword hit his head gently against Fox Feather’s neck with a groan. “At least Vital got his first equine female hug from you, Fox Feather, and not some other mare.”
“Um … actually …”
“In a setting that could have been taken as romantic,” Lunar Fang clarified, hiding her muzzle behind a leathery wing. “Clover counted as a friend hug.”
“Wait a minute, how did you know I hugged Clover?”
She grinned. “Lucky guess.”
Vital wasn’t sure if she was referring to a Pony, or the actual act.
With that act of mischief out of the way, Lunar Fang turned to look at Hammer Strike. “So, you’re finally trotting the path of our matron and grand chieftess. How was your first walk?”
“Technically not the first, though the memory of the first is a bit … hazy, as you can guess,” Hammer replied. “Though I’m sure you all have a harder time forgetting it.”
Pensword froze. “When Lord Shawn trounced Princess Celestia and I in combat.”
“Wait, when did this...?” Fox Feather asked perking up looking worried. “You fought your Lord?”
“I remember that,” Pensword spoke with a groan. “Do you remember when Princess Celestia and I had that week long conference in Canterlot?” He sighed. “We were really recovering from Shawn toying with us when something went wrong.
“During one of his experiments, Lord Shawn had been consumed by a dark energy. He took on Celestia and Pensword, holding little back. Luckily, he did not kill them in that state,” Hammer Strike finished.
“Against the plan, I might add,” Grif said.
“In their defense, they didn’t know you had a plan yet.”
“Not much of a defense,” Lunar Fang muttered. “Only an idiot charges in without a plan.”
“To finish the statement from earlier, I, at the time, was … unable to fight, and rather than using my normal field of magic, being solar fire, I was instead using lunar-based magic,” Hammer Strike said.
“Yeah,” Pensword answered. “Still, it worked out in the end.” He sighed. “Maybe we can move on? This is a fairly touchy subject.”
“You would think I’d find it the most touchy,” Hammer Strike muttered just loud enough for a few to hear at the table. “Not too terrible, oddly enough…”
“So you're going to be working with a new branch of stealthy, completely un-Hammer Strike-like magic now?” Grif asked.
“Why, I would never do such a–Yes, I’m going to start as soon as we return,” he replied.
Pensword looked nervous. “Hammer Strike, can ... can I talk to you tonight?” He looked at his plate. “I just ... this conversation dredged up some bad memories.”
“Sure.”
“Thank you.”
“Say, Hammer Strike?” Vital asked.
“Yes?”
“Why is nothing touching me?”
Hammer Strike chuckled. “Not quite right,” he said. Reaching up to his shoulder, he grabbed at nothing. As he pulled his hoof back, a blue blade began to form. Gold streaks had formed the outlines of flames licking away at the metal and seemed practically radiant in the midday sun streaming through the windows.
Vital Spark whistled. “Nice sword.”
“It was one of Gakushu’s last blades,” he said, looking it over once again before chuckling. “I was made for the Pathmaker,” he said before translating the text aloud in Equestrian.
“Wow. I’m suddenly struck by a sense of dejavous. We’re not going to see a talking dog named Bayard any time soon, are we?” Vital asked.
“Who?” Pensword asked, confused.
“It’s a reference to a story one of the humans told me about their movies. I believe he called it Alice in Wonderland, directed by Tim Burton.
Grif winced involuntarily at this.
“He somehow made the blade … harmonize with me just by touch. At least, that’s the best way I can describe it,” Hammer Strike continued.
“Well, he certainly had long enough to get a proper read on your magical aura, right?” Vital asked.
“Over a thousand years to remember it as well.”
“... Maybe he had a sample from you?”
“It’s a possibility.” He shrugged.
“With all that has happened, I would not be surprised,” Pensword added with a small chuckle.
“It’s silent,” Grif noted. “I couldn’t even pick up a single grate from the blade.”
“Exactly how he intended it to be made.” Hammer Strike grinned. “It would explain something, wouldn’t it?”
“Why you came in all ninja-ish?”
“I want to use it as it was meant to be used.”
“And how is it meant to be used?” Vital asked.
“Quietly,” Hammer Strike finished as he re-sheathed the blade. The blade suddenly vanished into near-invisibility.
“So, uh … can we interest you in some tea? Or maybe some sushi?” Vital asked.
Hammer Strike chuckled. “Sure.”
Pensword looked over at Hammer Strike as the two sat in the garden together. He sighed as he took in the full moon’s light before looking back at Hammer Strike. “I’m sorry.” The tone showed it was Matthew speaking.
“What for?” Hammer Strike asked.
“For ignoring your book and research,” Matthew replied. “It’s taken some time to just get to grips on this,” he said, motioning to himself with a wing and a hoof. “I think I am ready for the old master’s words,” he said, trying his best to disguise what he was referring to in case any of the Kitsune who were about could understand Equish or Dragonic.
Hammer Strike hummed for a moment. “You’ll have to wait until our return if you feel the want to read it.”
“I understand. I’m pretty late to the party, and if you don’t want to teach me, or the like, I can understand.” He frowned grimly.
“I have tried teaching you,” Hammer Strike replied. “You just keep refusing to learn or try it. I will think about teaching you when we get back, but until then, you can just read. Perhaps I could get Grif to help you with some of the basics as well...”
“I understand,” Matthew muttered. He looked out at the lotus blossoms floating on the water. “Are you looking forward to when Discord gets that spell correct? I ... I am trying to keep Pensword from going insane over what to bring back.”
“I don’t know.” Hammer Strike frowned. “To my family it has been … what, five years? To me, it’s been well over sixty since I’ve seen them. Perhaps even longer. I can’t remember how they were, how they acted. I can barely remember their faces.”
Matthew proceeded to hug Hammer Strike. “Take a camera, then. Document it, bring home photos. Also, spend the day with them if you can. Take them on a crazy adventure….” he frowned. “Didn’t you say one of your family members played with fire?” He got a funny look on his muzzle. “Maybe show off?”
“One of them might have…” He hummed. “I don’t even know what I want to do when we get back. Stop by and tell them I can’t stay? I know I can’t tell them the worst part of the news.”
“What is the worse news? They’ll know you are alive. You made a life for yourself, and you are not dead.”
“Each day I stay there on Earth will bring me closer to death, Matthew.”
“You don’t know that,” came the immediate retort.
“Yes, I do. Unless Earth has a field of magic to steadily power my Thaumic field, it will slowly drain, and my body will shut down, bit by bit, until it can’t sustain itself anymore.”
“Then we just pick a set number of days at which point we return, or we have our vitals taken and monitored, and if they drop below a threshold, we get pulled back.”
“We have no idea how long it’ll take to deplete is the problem. Measuring vitals might be a bit easier, but with what is the question.”
“Ask Discord, and he will come up with something, even if it’s as silly as a smiley face sticker that won’t come off.”
“I don’t know… It would probably take him longer to figure something out on this scale before he could even come up with something to monitor thaumic levels.”
“Then it will be simple, life signs, pulse, heart rate, oxygen levels. With what we’ve gone through, drops in that would be clear indications of problems.”
“What will sustain the connection and spell to monitor? Unless we can get something to get that back and forth, or a self system with enough power to bring us back.”
“To take something out of context, It’s Discord. Don’t question it,” Matthew replied with a chuckle. Then he shivered and shook his head. “This feels so weird. You know, the fur and body. And the tail, too. Even after being raised with it, I still haven’t gotten used to it.”
“It takes time after the shock and whatnot. As for not questioning a system like that, it will not work.”
“Then talk to Discord. Talk to Twilight. There has to be some sort of solution.”
Hammer Strike sighed. “I’ll figure something out to monitor our thaumic levels.”
“Thank you.” The two stared off into the stars for a time. “So… you and Rarity. I have to say, if I hadn’t….” he paused happy he still remembered to speak in Draconic. “If this was not happening in front of me, I would call out how impossible it would be.”
“At this point, nothing is impossible.”
“Touche.” Matthew replied. “Still...” He frowned. “What to talk about that is not work related? I am tired of Pensword fretting over the future. Did you know he has literally gone so far as to play for what to do if Equestria faced an alien invasion? He’s even got plans for what to do if he meets a Jedi.” He shook his head. “He has access to our world through me. He views so many things as potential threats, even though they’re fiction. I had to knock him out just to get some peace and quiet.”
“More mental burnout than anything from the sounds of it.”
“Yeah. Can you talk sense into him? Maybe get Lunar Fang to get him to play in the clouds? Honestly, I almost want to learn the Thaumic stuff just to get a little more control over this body and not be a passenger, if that’s even possible. Most of all, though–” he sighed “–I hope we can find a way to get my fingers and toes back.” Matthew paused, then chuckled. “Two different goals, but we can talk about that later. Come on… tell me a joke. Do something. Raise an eyebrow. Just … something from before all this insanity started.”
“I … actually don’t remember any jokes.”
Matthew paused, before grinning. “Do you want to hear some?”
Hammer Strike shuddered. His danger sense was tingling.
“Why won’t you ever go hungry in a desert?”
“... I am suddenly reminded why I don’t know any jokes.”
“Aww, well then I’ll tell you. It’s because of all the sandwiches there.”
“...” Hammer Strike stared into the distance.
“That’s the expression I remember when we met up for that convention.” Matthew happily giggled, cracking up more at his own pun, which more than made up for Shawn and Hammer Strike.
A few minutes later Matthew had calmed down, still rocking in his spot, but looking a bit happier. “Thank you for not killing me. I needed to tell a bad pun, just to get a sense of how things used to be, you know? So thanks.”
Hammer Strike gave a faint grin. “Any time.”
The waning moon shone brightly down on the palace grounds as Haku and Hammer Strike walked through the palace shrine. The pair each provided a flame to bob around them and offer the light they needed as they traversed the path leading to the pavilion where the graver markers were kept.
“It’s sad to think how they’re gone,” Haku said. “But I must admit I somehow expected it.” He smiled sadly. “I like to visit here at least once a month when I can, just to tell them about what they’ve left behind and how it’s influencing others. I like to think they’re happy with that.”
“I’m sure they enjoy hearing how their legacy is playing out,” Hammer Strike replied. “To hear of what their choices changed after they have passed.”
Haku chuckled. “I think Kurama will be glad to know what you and Grif have in store for our granddaughter.”
“That’s good to know.” Hammer Strike chuckled. “Better than the opposite.”
“Too true. Though I don’t think he could stop you, even if he did disapprove.” He chuckled. “You always do what you think is best.”
“I do what I think is best, but I can only hope for a good outcome.”
“Don’t we all.” Haku waved his paw and a set of incense holders appeared with sticks and two bowls of rice, all levitating beside them. “So how does it feel seeing me so old?”
“I’ve tried to get used to the feeling… but it still feels odd to me.” Hammer Strike sighed.
“It’s an unfortunate part of life. Destiny and fate have an interesting way of playing with us. Then again, it could just be chance.”
Hammer Strike’s eye twitched as a familiar laughter carried on the wind. “I’d say it’s a mix of all three, yes.”
“It is most strange.” Haku smiled as they entered the gazebo and laid the offerings down in front of the proper markers. With a snap of his fingers, the incense sticks ignited. “Would you like to speak with them first?”
“I wish I had more words to say, but, you know how it is...”
“Difficult to express. You always were one to remain within yourself. Why is that, I wonder?”
“The more I see, the more I lose, the less I feel,” Hammer Strike replied. “Though some feelings will never be silenced.”
“It’s not healthy, you know. I suppose that’s one reason I’m glad you’ve found your mare friend. She seems to be good for you.”
“She’s the only one I’ve felt this way for. And yes, I know the lack of emotion is deemed unhealthy, but it’s hard to change.”
“Hard change is often the best. It was hard for you to change for us, but look what it’s given us. Look what it’s given you, even by changing a little.”
“I just wonder if there is enough time for me to make those changes...” Hammer Strike replied softly. “Sorry. Remembering stuff.”
“That is up to you to decide. But if you want advice from an old fox, I’d say it’s worth it to try, no matter how much or little time you have remaining.”
“Yeah… I’ll try.”
The incense sticks flared, and Haku chuckled. “It would seem Kurama and Gakushu agree.”
“I thought I was the one watching over you three.” Hammer Strike gave a faint grin and raised brow.
“How quickly the roles change as the seasons turn.”
“Over a thousand years. That is some change from winter.”
Haku laughed. “And you’ve got quite a spring ahead of you, if I’m not mistaken.”
Hammer Strike chuckled faintly. “Quite, indeed.”
The blacksmith shop was lit by the light of the sun, and the familiar smell of smoke and steam identified louder than words the craft that was practiced in this place. Fox Feather and Lunar Fang both stood to either side of Pensword, who was grinning as he looked at the building. “I think they are done,” he said excitedly. He stopped and knocked on the open doorframe of the blacksmith. “Hello?” he called out.
“Hello? If you're a new customer, we aren't doing new commissions at the moment. If it’s my current customer, just hold on. I’ll be right with you.”
“Of course. I can wait,” Pensword responded. Lunar Fang and Fox Feather did their best to hold back the snickers.
“Something you wanted to say, ladies?” Pensword asked.
The two mares simply laughed and kissed him.
“Nothing, Pensword,” they promised, even as they exchanged knowing smiles.
Several minutes later, the blacksmith exited the forge wiping his paws on his smock. “Here to see what I’ve come up with, huh?”
“That is correct,” Pensword answered with a respectful bow. “If it is not ready, I can wait. I hope you do not mind my checking up on the process.”
“It is no trouble at all, I assure you. The commission is finished for the most part,” the smith said as he went to one of the tables and removed a bundle wrapped in oiled cloth before carrying it over. “I just need to do measurements.”
“Which wing?” Pensword asked as he followed the blacksmith into his shop. Fox Feather and Lunar Fang watched from the sidelines.
“I take it the set you gave me was for the left wing?” the blacksmith asked.
“That is correct.” Pensword nodded. He was going to enjoy using his dominant wing.
The smith nodded as he opened the bundle. The basic design was much like that of a wing blade with the trigger mechanism that read the wing movements and the special armor plates for the wing’s weaker joints; however, the joints were each capped over by an emerald lense. The blades were, as expected, straight and lethal-looking, like a katana blade, though the longest of them were only around a foot, and the majority were much shorter. The blades had been set in an odd pattern that, when Pensword inquired about them, the smith assured him would make sense when he engaged the blades on his wing.
“I left room for inscriptions or a symbol of some kind, should you desire it, but for the most part they are functionally complete.”
Pensword nodded to Lunar Fang and Fox Feather, who were more artistic and fashionable than he was. The pair were already hard at work sketching out the best ideas to suit Pensword’s house and crest.
“Once you have it on properly, we’ll make notes on where the final changes need to be made,” the Kitsune noted.
Pensword nodded. After a slow and steady process to avoid any damage to the wing, he was fully armed. The blacksmith immediately moved to take notes.
“Now why don’t you try and engage them?” the smith said.
Pensword flicked his wing outward, and as he did, the blades clicked into place, shiftin as his wings moved to locking together at different angles until they had formed a single cutting edge down the length of the wing. It looked almost just like the original model with some few ornate additions, yet when Pensword flexed his wing, the blades rippled like a wave, shifting to a new defensive configuration while hardly affecting his range of motion and articulation.
“This ... this is …. This is amazing. Simply amazing.”
“It took me nearly a whole day to get that part right,” the smith said with some notable pride in his voice. “If you disengage it and slide it off, I can probably make the remaining modifications in an hour or so.”
“Very well. I shall give you two,” Pensword said. “In a Thestral culture, that is a sign of respect. By giving more time, it assures no pressure to the smith. After all, without people like you, our people would not have been able to live and hunt.”
The Kitsune bowed. “Arigato. I’ll see you in two hours, then.”
Two hours later saw Pensword, Luanr Fang, and Fox Feather standing there as Pensword donned the Wingblade one more time. It had now been stamped with his cutie mark, as well as the emblem for Mountainside Falls. In a more intricate location, Luna’s cutie mark had been engraved net to the emblem for the coalition of the Thestral Tribes.
“Well now.” The smith gestured to a large rock near the door. “Why don’t you test them out?”
Lunar Fang hissed through her teeth as she saw the test subject. Fox Feather was shocked, while Pensword was curious. Matthew had something tickling his memory, but he just couldn’t quite catch it. He took a battle stance and attacked as he had in the war. He easily used his wing to slice the top of the rock. There was a shower of sparks, but very little resistance as the blades left a deep gouge in the stone.
All the Ponies stood there in dumbfounded shock. They saw the mark. They had seen and heard the sparks. And yet the weapon looked like it had not been damaged. Pensword’s eyes widened in shock. He looked up and promptly gave a deep bow to the Smith. “Lunar Fang, get a tomahawk.” He rose as Lunar Fang brought forth the weapon in question. “Please accept my gift of a weapon from my culture. If any Thestral come across your path, then seeing that in your shop will show you are trusted by a Thestral to make weapons for chiefs.” He bowed again.
“Thank you, my friend. I pray the blades never fail you. Use them well.”
“I shall.” He looked to the interpreter. “Please tell him that he must not stop me.” Once he was sure the confusing instructions had been given, he looked to the roof and let out a piercing yell as he threw the blade. It wedged without damaging the wood, so that only a Thestral knowing what to look for would see it. Noting how well it had landed, Pensword nodded his head in satisfaction. “As one warrior to another of tradition, thank you for not stopping me. Now, if that does fall down, please write to me, and I shall return and fly up there to return it. The throwing is only done once as a ceremony. If it falls, it will in need of a repair.”
After the smith had recovered from his shock, he bowed, and then returned to the back of his shop.
The afternoon air was warm and pleasant as throngs of Kitsune, Yokai, and other creatures of Neighpon gathered from the capital and surrounding villages to watch the challenge that was about to unfold. Yakisoba and ramen shacks were busy helping anxious customers as various sweet meat shops and other stalls exchanged the usual currency for their precious goods to fill anxious stomachs as the event drew near.
The emperor himself was to preside over the event, and to present the prize to whoever should win. Many a young Kitsune and Yokai had entered the ranks, including some oxen, a few bears, some weasels, and even a ferret. The grounds had been lined by rope to outline the boundaries of the path, and to prevent spectators from getting too close to the action. A royal pavilion had been raised with a brilliant celestial dragon rendered in pure gold decorating the top. High above, Heaven’s Crest awaited at the peak of the great Mount Kazan, and with it, the trophy which had drawn so many contestants to the event today.
As honored guests, Hammer Strike and his party of friends sat on either side of the emperor and his bride as they looked down on the crowd. When the sun had risen high above the clouds, the emperor rose and waved a hand, sending a blast of white light into the heavens to explode with deafening noise. The gathered throngs immediately settled down.
“Friends, masters, competitors, and honored guests….” The emperor's translator seemed to have a copy of the speech before him all ready as he kept pace with the divinely appointed ruler. “It is with great anticipation that I speak to open today’s event. As some of you may know, the contest today is for a prize that may not be seen again in a lifetime. One month ago some monks came upon an abandoned nest, and within it, the egg of the legendary cryophoenix.”
More than a few gasps filled the air at the announcement.
“Cryophoenixes are secretive about their nests, more so than regular phoenixes,” Clover explained. “The eggs have many possible applications in alchemy and potion making, and they are much more rare, on par with the thunderbird.”
“The thunderbird?” Avalon balked.
“Not that thunderbird,” Clover said. “I meant the more common ones.”
“But wouldn’t using them in such a manner kill the chick before it can hatch?” Rarity asked.
“They don’t think it will be able to hatch,” Clover explained. “A cryopheonix’s body reaches below absolute zero, naturally that kind of cold’s hard to find in nature, so without its mother to create a nurturing environment, the egg will perish.” Clover looked towards the pool of contestants, where Vital looked anxiously at all his fellow competitors. “That's what they think, anyway.” She smiled then.
“Is there something you’re not telling us, Clover?” Avalon asked suspiciously.
“It should be all there for you. Vital Spark’s magic is ice based,” she pointed out. “And I have a whole cask of two thousand year old mauled cider riding on Celestia being wrong about Philomena’s hatching being a one-in-a-million situation.”
“Philomena was a rare hatch? How? I thought she was born the usual way and just chose Celestia because their magic is similar.”
“No. Celestia scared her mother away from the nest when she was young. Her … guardian at the time made her attempt to save the egg as a lesson about consequences.”
“Huh. Who’dve thunk?” Avalon said as she turned back to the contestants.
“Now each of your masters has donated something to this challenge,” the emperor said, addressing the contestants directly. “Before you stands a course riddled with obstacles, rough terrain, and as you get higher up the slope, worse weather. Master anorak has prepared a riddle which has been agreed to be the clue you will use to make your way to the top.”
A large red Kitsune wearing billowing black robes walked up to the podium as the emporer sat down. He cleared his throat, and then as he spoke, three keys began to float about his neck.
“Three hidden keys open three secret gates
Where the errant shall be tested for worthy traits
And those with the talent to survive these straights
Shall reach the end where the prize awaits.”
As he finished, the three keys split into multiple copies of each other before they scattered over the mountain face.
“You may begin when the gong sounds the noon hour,” the emperor said from his seat.
Vital Spark gulped, his stomach tying itself in knots as he prepared for what was surely to be one of the most frightening and potentially embarrassing experiences of his life.
Finally, the gong sounded. Immediately the contestants made for the mountain face.
Vital Spark raced as fast as his hooves could carry him. He did his best not to panic as he tried to stick to the trail while he sought out the keys in question. “All right, Vital, think. How are you going to find your way to these keys?” he muttered, even as he did his best to get away from the stampede of competitors. Once he’d gotten into the forest, he slowed down and sat on the hard earth. He closed his eyes and focused. To get too worked up wouldn’t benefit anyone.
The terrain was sloping upwards now, and snow wasn’t too far off from where he now sat, despite the warmth he still felt. Perhaps the aspect of purity that was imbued in the mountain had caused a permanent blanket to fall on its surfaces to aid the Imoogi as they prepared for the ascension that they so desperately sought. The bushes nearby shuffled and moved, but no one seemed nearby.
He watched as flying clouds and gusts of wind across the mountain indicated the desperate or calculated searches each of the contestants performed. And then he thought of the egg. That poor thing was going to be killed before it even had the chance to live. And then a sudden thought occurred to him, and he had an idea. A beautiful, wonderful, awesome idea. He rose and chuckled as he closed his eyes. When he opened them, they glowed white. He scanned the mountain face for a few seconds, taking in the shifting forms of the many competitors before marking the fields that weren’t moving. He grinned as he let the energies drop and raced as fast as his hooves could carry him. He had some keys to pick up.
Vital Spark smiled as he picked up the first key, which had embedded itself into a large rock. He was still shocked at how easily he’d gotten it to give up the key.
“You wouldn’t happen to know a boulder named Tom, would you?”
In an instant, a massive red streak shot up the center of the boulder until it made contact with the key, and then the key popped out of its place. He’d blinked in shock as he picked it up. It was a small thing, only half the size of his hoof, but it was made from well-polished bronze, and held a small ruby mounted in the very top of the ring.
“Uh … thanks.”
The boulder then proceeded to shake before rolling down the side of the hill and out of sight.
“... The guys are never going to believe this.” He shook his head and made his way back towards the first gate.
And now, there he stood. Before him, hovering in mid-air, attached to absolutely nothing, was a large bronze gate. Through the bars, he could see nothing but darkness, as though some enchantment kept him from making out the other side and the challenge within. Then again, perhaps some enchantment did. He carefully levitated the key into place, then lifted his hoof to turn it himself.
There was a creak as the lock clicked and the doors swung open, leaving a black abyss before him. Taking a deep breath, he passed in, casually noting the many tracks that had blended and stirred the earth behind him. It would seem he was not the first to pass through.
The blackness overcame him for a moment before he found himself standing in a large cavern. In front of him, as far as he could see from left to right was a mirror. Beside him, a small pool of water sat with a little spout pouring from the rock and filling the air with the sound of its fall. Beside the pool, a being he assumed was the guardian stood waiting. She was a tall woman with sleek black hair and wide green eyes. Her hands and feet were webbed, and her skin had been dyed a deep blue to match the stone of the pool. Every few moments it seemed almost as if her form were shifting, and as he drew closer, he realized it wasn’t skin he was seeing, but a construct formed out of pure water.
“Welcome, student.” Her bubbly voice echoed inside Vital’s head. “You have found the first gate, and the first test.”
“Thank you. May I ask what the task is to be?”
“Across the many realms lies a world where to tell a lie is to destroy, but to tell a story is to create and expand. Within that world lies a path to a great oracle with three great tests to enter her presence. This gate is a replica of the second test. It is a place that requires absolute honesty and fidelity with oneself. To pass through this gate is to pass through yourself, with all facades torn away. To pass this trial, you must see who you truly are, and you must accept it.”
Vital gulped. “The mirror of truth.”
“Yes,” the naiad’s voice sighed as it echoed through the space.
“... Great.” He sighed and shook his head. “Well, I guess I already know what I’m probably going to see, so I suppose I won’t be driven insane at least.”
“You need not face it if you do not wish. None will think lesser of you for it.”
Vital shook his head. “I’d likely think less of myself for it. Besides, that egg doesn’t deserve to be destroyed like that.”
“Then approach, and meet your true self.” With her task complete, the guardian returned to the pool, her body melting into the pond until nothing remained and the pool continued to gurgle and plop as the water streamed.
Vital spark gulped. He knew he’d likely see Ronoc soon, and who knew what else. He slowly drew up to the mirror and shuddered as he stared at his reflection. He opened his eyes, surprised to see a trembling Unicorn foal and a shaking human boy clinging together in the blackest darkness he had ever seen. A small spherical lantern sat embedded in the ground between them, and a bright crystal pulsed and glowed brightly as the shadows hovered around. He heard the malevolent chuckle, saw the shadows strike. Sometimes they would break through to land a blow, hurting the children. Then, at other times, the light would arc out instead, breaking the shadows apart, and leading to an angry hissing from the shadows.
“The war of light and darkness, metaphor for the eternal struggle between good and evil.” He sighed and shook his head as tears poured down his cheeks. “I’m always struggling with myself.” Then he took a deep breath, braced himself, and walked through the image.
The bright light of the midday sun was a stark contrast to the cave where he’d been only a moment earlier. He heard the sounds of the scavengers and the cry of battle. It would seem that some few of the pupils were desperate enough to resort to violence to claim their keys, rather than risk wasting time searching for their own. He shook his head. “How sad.” And then he moved on.
This time, he found the key hanging on a long tree branch a couple of stories up a tall pine. The tree seemed almost protective of the key as he gently pulled it loose with his magic, like it was trying to keep it in place.
Vital shook his head, but since he felt guilty, as a parting gift, he used a lesser form of the ice spell Clover had taught him to cover the pine with frosty patterns and decorations. “There. Now you’re one of the most beautiful trees on the mountain. He smiled as he left, not even aware of how the tree shook itself happily as its needles whispered in excitement.
A little ways away he found a similar gate to the bronze one, though this one was much larger and ornate and, true to the last gate, made purely out of jade, just like its key. Vital inserted the key in the lock and turned. As he did so, the jade turned to crystal as bright patterns and rainbow light danced in front of him like a kaleidoscope, blinding him in a great flash of color.
When the light faded, he found himself standing in yet another black space. He could hear groaning and grunts of pain. He could smell blood, and that put his hairs on end as he braced himself for combat, his horn glowing. As he pressed forward, he swiveled from time to time. Something was moving in the shadows, but he never could quite see it. The moaning grew louder, but no matter how hard he searched he could never find the source.
Then came the laughter. It was smooth, almost luxurious as it broke through the silence. Out from the shadows, a great blue ram with glowing red eyes and a bell around his neck approached. He sneered down at the Unicorn with a leer that could curdle milk and turn rocks to dust. A sense of timelessness wrapped around him along with the foul stench of decay. He towered above the young stallion, placing him in his shadow.
“So, another comes.”
“... Grogar.”
“And it knows my name. I thought you and your kind had long forgotten about me.”
“Well, to be perfectly honest … you were a pretty crappy villain.”
“WHAT?” Grogar bellowed.
“An ancient ceremony that would seal the Ponies away in your decrepit kingdom forever, oh dear, whatever shall they do? Let’s see. Knock over the cauldron to delay the spell for one, since you only have a limited time there to fulfill your revenge. Oh yeah, and ring an ancient bell that has the power to literally destroy your focus in one ring. A bell, which, might I add, you kept in the kingdom with you, and didn’t destroy when you had the chance. I repeat, crappy villain.”
“You impudent little whelp! I should strike you down where you stand.”
“But you won’t, because either you’re an illusion, or the Kitsune have you on a very, very tight leash. So why don’t you save us both a whole lot of trouble and we just cut to the chase with the trial?”
Grogar chuckled, then pointed to a Kitsune corpse. Its head had been turned at an unnatural angle, and it groaned where it stood. “I am far from bound, little Unicorn.” He sneered. “So you want your trial, do you?” he crooned. “You want your precious treasure?” He chuckled. “And what are you willing to give to gain the power the egg can grant you, boy?”
“I don’t want it for power. I want it to live.”
Grogar burst into a fit of laughter. “Then you’re a bigger fool than I thought. Nopony has the power to hatch that egg. Only its mother can provide the means.”
“Then I can at least give it the respect it deserves.”
A loud cry sounded off in the shadows, followed by several more.
“You know of my power, boy. That much is clear, so you know what I’m capable of.” He smirked as a heavy cage stuffed with Kitsune and other yokai descended before shuddering to a halt just before the floor and bouncing and swinging. They had been badly wounded, torn, lacerated, beaten, and bruised. The cage’s bars glowed with an unholy green light. “They will die should you choose to continue, boy, and they will die painfully. Then I shall call their souls back from the grave to serve in my army.” He laughed malevolently. “And you can’t do a thing to stop me, little novice.”
“Let them go.”
Grogar chuckled. “And why should I, little foal? What I kill, I claim as my own, and you have noth–” he broke off as he hovered in front of the Unicorn. He sniffed his hair, pulling his mane out of place as he inhaled. “That scent. Your soul is … different. How interesting. How … unique.” He stroked his beard as he took in the Unicorn’s appearance, then turned to face the cave, his eyes darting back and forth. “Yes. Very interesting.”
“What do you want, Grogar?”
“Your soul intrigues me, boy. I should very much like to study it.” He licked his lips. “Chaos and order, self-loathing and confidence, love and hate, so many opposites, so complex. And yet … not quite Pony. There is power in that soul. Yes,” he murmured. “I believe I just might.” He grinned. “You’ve intrigued me, boy. I can’t even begin to say how long it’s been since my curiosity was roused like this.” He chuckled. “My terms are these, boy. One soul in exchange for all of these. Your soul, to be exact.”
“What?”
“One life for many. It’s fairly straightforward,” Grogar said. “Let me kill you, and I get to let all of your little friends go. I’ll even sweeten the deal and release this degenerate flea bag,” he said as he motioned to the groaning Kitsune that had shuffled next to him. He chuckled. “That is my offer. Take it or leave it, boy, but one way or another, somepony is going to die.”
A veritable storm raged within Vital Spark. On the one side, Grogar was demanding an eternity of slavery, never finding peace or rest, always obeying, always serving. On the other side, Grogar would put that same fate on everyone in the room, leaving only his soul to survive and live on. Either way, there didn’t seem to be a right answer.
“Would you like some motivation? I’m sure the spectators would love to input their opinion,” Grogar said with a malevolent chuckle as his bell rang and a magical viewing screen appeared.
A golden long-aged Kitsune looked on in shock before weeping and sounded like she was begging Vital in her native tongue. Thanks to a amulet given at the start of the race, her cries had been translated into a language he could understand, and indeed, she was begging for her son to be freed.
A proud Ox Yokai garbed as a warrior snorted as his image appeared. “They were weak to be captured. The boy must save his own soul to continue. They are doomed no matter what he does. He cannot trust a foe like him.” One of the bears proceeded to deck the ox.
“The lady will save them,” one young kit said, grasping his mother's robes. “The lady won’t let that goat have them, right?” His mother said nothing, but wept silently.
The range continued from mothers or siblings to warriors and scribes all giving their voices, and soon they were beginning to drown out each other. The voices became a tidal wave of noise and sound, all telling him to either give his soul or to walk away and save himself.
There was a strain, a single phrase repeated over and over again. Vital could not hear it at first, but as his ears searched for something other than the noise. It began to grow louder to his ears, until he could hear it. The voice rang of crystals and whispered softly in a manner that made him feel calm and safe.
“‘For whosoever will save his life shall lose it: and whosoever shall lose his life for my sake shall find it.’ Is that not so, Vital Spark?”
And then the familiar voice was gone as quickly as it had come. Grogar waved a hoof and the window closed.
“Make your choice,” he ordered. “I will wait no longer.”
Vital Spark gaped for a time. He took a shuddering breath. His horn sparked as he closed his eyes. Then he opened them again to stare up at the necromancer. “... I have my answer.”
“And?”
“... Do it.”
With a booming laugh the ram charged up a display of dark energy, which he unleashed in a bright flash of light.
Vital flinched and closed his eyes as he braced for the inevitable death that was surely to come.
… Only to feel an incredibly tiny paw poke his nose. “Boop.” When he opened his eyes he found himself staring at a small yellow bear-like creature with bright white wings and a band on his left ear and a tail like a lion's.
“... Uwah?”
“Congratulations. You passed the test!” the creature said with a laugh. “You know, there aren’t too many folks with enough honor and compassion to do what you just did.”
“... I almost didn’t.”
“But you did. And because you did, you made it to the final track!”
“Um … thanks and all, but … your name wouldn’t happen to be Kiro, would it?”
“Maybe,” the creature answered with folded arms.
“You wouldn’t happen to know a powerful Kitsune magician named Clow Reed, would you?”
“Enough questions,” he said seriously. “You want to carry on or not?”
“Well, yeah, sure, but … was that all just the Illusion?”
“Give the Pony a prize!” kero said, slow clapping as a door appeared behind him.
“You know, you keep that up, and I won’t offer you a spot at the table with me at the emperor’s feast, and they have all the best sweet foods.” Vital smirked as he made his way towards the door.
“Joke’s on you. I already got a spot,” Kero snickered.
“Then say hi to Sakura chan for me.” He smiled. “And give my regards to Yue, too.” Then he passed through the door.
Snow, snow, snow. Everywhere he looked, the Yokai and Kitsune alike were scrounging, sniffing, digging, searching, scanning, doing everything they could to find the keys. Some holes had reached perhaps a half mile deep for all he could tell with the burrowing going on.
“... What gives?” Vital asked. He walked to where one of the Kitsune were frantically shoveling. “Why is everyone digging like this?”
“The keys are buried somewhere around here,” one of them said as he dug.
“Why make it so easy?” Vital’s horn glowed as he reached out towards the snow, only to feel something shove him sharply back. He plopped onto the snow and rubbed his horn. “... The heck?”
“You can’t use magic here,” the kitsune said. “There’s some sort of enchantment over the clearing.
Vital Spark made note of the pile of glass-like pendants tied to leather strings. “What are those supposed to be?”
“Decoys. The real keys are buried somewhere with them. Ten students already made it through to the third trial.”
“Huh. Is that so? I think I’ll take one anyways. They look awesome.” He casually took one and placed it into his saddlebag. “Well, I guess I’ll see you later.”
Careful to find a secluded patch away from the other diggers, Vital Spark channeled the energy again and looked around. The snowbank was alight with little flickers, but even as he extended his senses, he felt the same power in his satchel beside him. He shook his head and tried to stretch further. And then he heard … felt something? It resonated with him, ringing like a bell or a chime. Knowing his time was nearly up, he locked onto the location and marched off as the glow faded from his eyes.
About five minutes later, Vital Spark stood before a vast gate embedded into the side of the mountain. It glistened with frost, and the light refracted through it to scatter rainbows across the snow and through the air.
“Okay, so the door is crystal this time. Got it,” Vital said, doing his best to shield his eyes from the light. “I think I’ll call this place the Rainbow Vale.” He smiled, then backed off. The light was just too bright. He wouldn't’ be able to see where he was going for much longer at this rate. Unfortunately for him, there wasn’t any warning before the snow gave way and he found himself plummeting down into darkness.
With no idea how long he had, Vital Spark Quickly turned himself over and pointed his horn down. It glowed its usual light blue, then it grew before his horn finally shot out a compact ball. As it fell down and down, it expanded while simultaneously lighting up the ravine. About a minute of freefall later, the ball slammed into the ground and spread and inflated until it stood a good twenty feet tall and wide. Vital Spark soon followed suit, only this time, he was cushioned by the magic, and then was flung back up again, though not nearly so far as he had fallen. He laughed as he finally settled down on the makeshift crash cushion. He took a few breaths to steady himself as he slid back down before the mattress disappeared.
“Okay, that was scary, and fun at the same time. What else is the world going to throw at me?” He chuckled nervously before turning to face a titanic glacier of clear, naturally cut ice, but that wasn’t what held him in place. Deep within the surface, he could make out the massive form of a gigantic bird. Its wings were held wide, its eyes intent with focus and scrutiny. Its beak was held open in a mighty shriek of defiance. “... Phoenix. Big phoenix.” He breathed heavily as he looked at the icy tomb. “Are you … real? Were you that egg’s mother?” He placed a hoof against the surface as he took in the detail of the creature. Its talons were curved protectively, as if it had just taken a kill, but there was nothing there. “Why didn’t they tell me about you?”
Vital Spark sighed and shook his head. “Well, I guess I’d better figure out where I am and where I need to go from here.” He pushed the power into his eyes again and looked around. An icy blue surrounded the figure within the ice. Even in death, the thaumic energies the cryophoenix represented remained potent enough to push through the glacier. He frowned. Something felt … different around that aura as well. At the base, beneath the phoenix. He felt something ... multiple somethings, as a matter of fact.
“Son of a–. Why you clever foxes,” he murmured as he let the power ebb again and viewed the world as it was meant to be seen. “Not sure I approve that they put the keys in your grave, though,” he said to the phoenix. He sighed and shook his head. “But I guess that’s just how it is sometimes.” He took a deep breath and charged his horn. “Thank you, magical resonance,” he muttered as the aura of his magic surrounded him. Then he reached through and his hoof entered the ice like it would water. Taking a deep breath, he pushed harder and expanded the spell to encompass him with a bubble before he passed into the structure.
Vision was different inside the ice. For one, everything was absolutely still. There was no sound, no movement, no life except for him. In a sense, it was peaceful. In a sense, it was eerie. It was like looking up at the word from the bottom of a pool, only for the water to remain perfectly still, so the pattern of light remained the same no matter what. Eventually he came to a large block of ice where a series of pedestals held the crystal keys in place. Each had been embedded with a clear diamond in its loop.
Knowing he likely only had a certain amount of air that the ice would provide him inside his bubble, Vital quickly grabbed one of the keys from its pedestal and stowed it in his pack. As he turned to go, a loud rumble shook the ice, and he looked up to see the great talons of the bird descending. He tried to run, but something shoved his magic aside, causing his hooves to be locked in place, even as the rest of him struggled to find release. The talons rested on top of his bubble and stayed there, sending torrents of cold over it and through the floor to maintain the icy hold.
“What gives?” Vital shouted. Nobody responded. The body of the phoenix had returned to its statuesque state. He continued to struggle until he started to feel lightheaded. Then he forced himself to calm down. “Okay. Okay. Relax. This has to be part of the challenge. They wouldn’t just leave you to be stuck here, so there has to be a solution. Think.”
And as he did so, he thought of another great phoenix locked in ice in another world far, far away. He recalled the pendant and its magic stone that directed a group of heroes to the majestic creature’s resting place. He recalled the magic that stone held, and what it could do, and he smiled.
“So that’s the trick, is it?” Vital chuckled as he pulled open the saddle bag with his teeth and levitated the pendant out. He carefully tied it around his neck, then pumped his magic into it, causing the bubble to contract to make up for the strain. Slowly the pendant began to glow, then the shape of a brilliant blue phoenix formed on the stone. The stone itself darkened and dyed a magnificent blue as the phoenix lightened to stand out against the backdrop of what now was a polished dark navy blue stone. The phoenix on the pendant spread its wings and glowed before a light arced up and into the ice to hit the great bird’s foot. After a few restless moments, the foot began to retract again. The cold dispersed from his hooves, allowing his magic to make him mobile once more as he gradually made his way back out. Everything looked the same, but the phoenix glowed and shifted on the pendant to form an arrow to guide his path.
At long last he emerged from the ice block and collapsed into the snow, breathing heavily as he allowed himself a brief rest. After a good five minutes or so, he got back to his hooves and started the trek back up the ravine. He’d used enough magic as it was. Better to save it up for when he really needed it. It wasn’t like he didn’t have the time with all the others still searching in the meadow. He gave a tired wave and a smile as he passed the hunters by. He’d wanted to tell them what he’d found, but something bound his tongue, just like when he’d tried talking about Harmony with anyone. He was able to explain about his pendant to an extent, but he couldn’t say much more.
When he reached the crystal doors, he gave a tired smile, and pulled out the key. He carefully inserted it before turning the shaft, and let the warm light wash over him.
When his vision cleared he stood in another massive cavern, but this one was far larger than the others, and much more ancient looking. Marble pillars stood proudly along the edges of his vision, and two large stands held blazing fires to light the area. Carved into the opposite wall were two stone doors, and between them, hissing threateningly, was what Vital at first took to be two large serpents. As he drew closer, he soon realised it was a single serpent with two large heads. Its scales were sickly-green with a yellow underbelly, and deadly, sharp fangs hung from its mouth.
“Welcome to the final gate,” one head began.
“The final test yet awaits,” the other head continued with a sibilant hiss.
“Behind one door you will find your prize,” the other hissed.
“Behind the second you will feed the flies.”
“One head tells truths, and the other just lies.”
“One question you ask, and then determine your path,” the cryptic poem ended abruptly.
Vital cocked his head as he looked at them both. Inside, he couldn’t help but laugh. This was the last of the three trials? He’d had to solve this one in the tenth grade! With a confident air about him, he smiled and spoke. “What would the other head say if I asked it which door was safe?”
The head looked at him for a moment before giving a laugh. “Thatsss the firsst time sssomeone’ss assked that all day!” he said, motioning to his brother’s door.
Vital grinned. “Then I guess I’m taking your door.”
“Yes,” the head nodded and hissed his laughter.
“Thanks for the fun. Uh, if you don’t mind, since I already know the right answer and made my choice, how many others have made it through?”
“Half a dozen or so,” the head answered. “Most have been sent back to the start.”
“Wow. Wasn’t expecting that,” Vital said with some surprise. “Well, wish me luck, boys. I’m off to the final test.” He passed into the gate and entered a large plateau looking over the mountain’s edge. A large nest had been woven out of bamboo shoots off to the side, but it was completely empty. Over to the side, he noticed a pair of Kitsune turned to face him.
“Um … hello?” he asked, waving a little hesitantly.
Beyond the ninjas stood an armored winged figure who barred the way, swords crossed, while behind them, a familiar grey kitsune was currently holding the egg and drinking a cup of tea as he expertly moved out of the way of a younger kitsune attempting to grab it. The egg was slightly larger than a baseball, and its shell was edged and faceted like a large white gemstone with small blue sapphire-like bumps sticking out from it.
“So … what’s going on here?” Vital Spark asked as he approached the ninjas.
“None shall pass until the next contestant is done. This test must be handled one at a time, first come first served,” a familiar voice spoke echoed from the armor.
“... Grif? Is that you?” Vital asked as he peered at the armor in question.
"Uh ... no?" Grif’s voice said unconvincingly. “I’ve never heard of this person before.”
“Says the armored figure in Equish.”
“Lots of people speak Equish.”
“Is that so?” he asked casually in Draconic.
“I’m supposed to be neutral in this. Might not seem that way if they realize we know each other,” Grif noted.
“Like I’d actually allow any special treatment anyways. I always follow the rules,” Vital said truthfully as he sat down on his rump. “So how long does the trial go? Till the person gives up?” he asked in Equish.
“Or they manage to get the egg from the one guarding it.”
“We’re going to be here a while, aren’t we?” he asked as he watched a particularly painful face plant take place for the younger Kitsune.
“You just got here. I’ve been here practically all day.”
“... Why would you be up here all day when the challenge started at noon?”
“Set up, last minute planning, complimentary pastries.”
“Now I know it’s you.”
“You know nothing.”
“Your Jedi mind tricks are no match for me,” Vital said, once again in Draconic.
“He who knows does not speak, he who speaks does not know.”
Vital Spark chuckled, then bowed. “Truly, I am no match for your keen wit.”
Two hours later, Vital Spark groaned. “Just how long are they going to keep at this?”
“Your should be up any second now,” Grif said as one of the ninjas flew over his head. “Well look at that. It’s your turn.”
“So what, that counts as a ring out?”
“Well, the guy’s unconscious, so I really don’t think he can argue,” Grif noted, pointing to the limp form.
“... Point taken.” He gulped as he approached the old Kitsune. “Hello, Master Iroh.”
“Ah. Hello, my young friend. I take it you are the next one to try and take this egg?” he asked, sipping his tea.
“I guess so. Aren’t you going to finish your tea? I can wait if you’d prefer.”
“No need. Just try what you will.”
“Mind if I ask a few questions?”
“I encourage you to ask questions, my young friend. I only do not guarantee an answer.”
“So what would happen if I were to try to remove the egg with telekinesis?”
“You can’t,” Iroh said with a simple shrug.
“As in it’s against the rules, or you’d break the spell, or you’d attack, or is there some sort of anti-magic field?”
“Yes,” Iroh said, taking another drink.
“You’ve been spending time with Grif, haven’t you?” Vital asked as he facehoofed.
“Perhaps.” Iroh shrugged noncommittally.
“And what would happen if I were to try to grab the egg while you were distracted?”
“Ninjas work for many years in the art of misdirection and trickery. We all know that tactic worked out so well for them.”
“... Good point. Then what would you suggest?”
“Try something unexpected.”
Vital shrugged. “Fair enough.” He approached the Kitsune and his precious cargo and smiled. “May I please have the egg?”
“Of course you can, my friend,” he said. And he handed the egg to Vital.
In a flash of light, they were back at the base of the mountain again with all the rest of the contestants. Vital was on top of a great pavilion where the emperor stood waiting. Iroh stood by Vital Spark’s side and patted his back while Grif stood fully disrobed of his fancy armor with the runner-ups.
“Congratulations, my friend,” the emperor offered to the Unicorn as he approached.
The crowd erupted into cheers and applause. Meanwhile, Clover gave a satisfied nod as a hint of a smile touched her lips.
Grif looked over the items he had unloaded from the gantrithor, checking them off on a clipboard as he did so.
“Sacred Gryphon statues of gold, silver, amethyst, and platinum; ceremonial weapons; larger gemstones; books; gold; silver; and several casks of wine.” Grif nodded. “I hope this is an okay tribute after everything the emperor has done for us. I probably should have brought more, don’t you think?” He looked to Pensword.
“I think this is a good trade,” Pensword answered. “They will be fine gifts, at least as long as he is not seeing this as Tribute from your clan for his nation. I don’t want an opium war on our hooves,” he muttered as he looked at the dream catchers, swords, tomahawks, and pelts of many different creatures, all non-sentient. “I feel the gifts I bring are not as grand as yours, but they mean a lot in our culture, from one high chief to another.”
“The gifts I bring were torn from the bloody talons of my own people by me, sometimes literally. You didn’t have to kill any Thestrals for yours, so I think at least in a spiritual sense you win there,” Grif offered.
“Let us just drop that subject.” He paused as his right ear twitched. “I hear Vital walking down the hallway. I wonder how he is handling the fact he now owns one of the rarest and most valuable magical reagents in the world. You think Clover is going to teach him some potion or something?” Pensword asked, thinking along the same lines of those that were at the contest.
“Dunno,” Grif said as he finished his checklist. “Do you think some of your people would mind helping with the presentation? I don’t trust any of the Gryphons I brought not to lose their heads in there. It’s a lot to take in.”
“I can give some of my Thestral and old Gryphon Slayers to help,” Pensword agreed. “As long as you are present for the presenting of my Thestral gifts.” He paused. “And Luna’s gift as well.” His eyes moving to a silver chest engraved with motifs of acts committed long ago by the Lunar Princess. “I do not know what is in that chest, but I know I need more than myself there when it is presented.”
“I’m curious, myself. If I remember correctly, Celestia had to offer up everfire to get the emperor to agree to meet with her, and that was over five hundred years ago. I wonder what Luna believes is equal to that.”
“I’m putting my money on moonstones. They’re a rare magical item back on Earth. I wouldn’t be surprised if they were rare here, too. And as symbols of purity, they would act as excellent warding charms against demons and other dark forces,” Vital said as he entered the room. “Working on what to give the Emperor?” he asked inquiringly.
“No, just debating what Luna gave the Emperor. We have our gifts already. With you winning that contest, you are exempt from giving a gift, as you have been given a high honor. You will dine at his table, with Clover at your side.” Pensword smiled at the shocked looks. “What? I listen when I can.”
“You should feel glad.” Grif nodded. “You and Hammer Strike get the glory this time.”
“I’m not so sure. I kinda wanted to hang out with you guys. Besides, I wanted to meet Kero’s master. He never told me whether it was Sakura or Clow Reed.”
“How do you know so many of these Kitsunes’ names already?” Pensword asked in utter bafflement. “You might be unnerving them.”
“Ask Matthew,” Grif said as he finished packing the last chest.
“It’s something that leaked over to Earth. He’d be able to fill you in,” Vital Spark clarified.
“If you say so. I will do that tonight, when I won’t be distracted so easily.” He paused a moment, then smiled. “So how does it feel winning your first contest?”
“Weird,” Vital admitted. “Especially with the third key challenge. Was that supposed to be a conjuration, or was that the real resting place for the egg’s mother? It just … doesn’t make sense to me. … Then again, I cast a spell that let me phase through solid ice like it wasn’t even there. You’d think I’d be used to stuff not making sense by now.”
“We have a Pony back home who warps reality, and may be an eldritch abomination. Yeah, I’d say you should be used to this by now.” Grif shook his head. “As for the phoenix, even if I knew, I couldn’t tell you. They treat cryophoenix with high praise here. Something about the whole controlling ice thing that marvels them.”
“Ice is an opposite to fire. In theory, the cryophoenix has the power to wipe out the entire kitsune empire if it deems that necessary.”
“Well, on that grim note, as soon as everyone's ready, we can go,” Grif said.
“I am ready to go,” Pensword answered as he finished bundling his gifts.
“I guess I need to get over with Hammer Strike and Clover. See you guys at the banquet.”
“See you later.” Pensword smiled and waved.
“... If I survive,” Vital muttered.
“You will. You survived the contest,” Pensword answered with a cheeky grin.
“I hope you get bombarded by nobles when we get home,” Vital said as he slammed the screen door shut behind him.
Pensword frowned. “I am. We are going to announce Moon River’s betrothal.”
“Touchy,” Grif noted, staring at the door.
“I agree. Was I ever that touchy?”
“Yes, but you had just lost everything,” Grif noted.
“Touche,” Pensword answered. “Still, are you ready? Shall we head to the feast?”
“You take the front, and I’ll take the back. We’ll have a bit of a train, but it shouldn’t take too long to get there.”
Pensword nodded in agreement as he flapped his wings to lift the front. He paused to let out a whinny, calling his troops over to help.
The train marched from the Gantrithor’s dock down the street with goods being carried in a central column, every five feet saw four armed guards marching in time beside the train. At the front, one of the Thestrals had taken over for Pensword to allow him the freedom to walk in his full dress armor at the front to present. Concord sat proudly on his back as he marched with Lunar Fang and Fox Feather on either side.
Grif and Avalon followed carefully behind. Avalon wore her usual robes with her focus hanging visibly around her neck, while Grif walked in full battle dress with Vigilance and Vengeance beside him.
“Don’t be nervous,” Grif said to Avalon as they moved, noting some tension in her movements at her focus being on display.
“I know I shouldn’t be, but … I can’t really help it. I guess it’ll go away over time.” She sighed and did her best to loosen up. “Better?”
“Yes. Don’t worry. I’m right here.” It took them close to half an hour before they finally entered the palace. Stopping right outside the banquet hall, Grif and Pensword entered first with their wives, followed by the train of their offerings. “You want to go first or second?” Grif asked in a hushed tone.
“I’d better go first. No offense, but I am one of the ranked officers. So you enter after I do, but we both enter with our wives.” He took a steady breath, smiled, and stepped forward with both mares on either hoof.
“The floor is yours,” Grif said before he and Avalon followed behind.
Pensword entered the room to the halfway point, Bowed low, took five steps forward, and bowed again. Two steps behind him, his wives followed suit. He moved to stand five paces away from the table and bowed, then spread his wings out until their tips touched the ground on either side of his muzzle. He was doing his best to quiet and distract Matthew from this part of the ceremony, and for the moment, it was working. It helped that Pensword had bribed him with the promise of a steamship to play around with whenever he wanted later down the line.
“Please stand and address the emperor,” the translator said after receiving a nod from said emperor.
Pensword rose and began his address. “Supreme ruler of all Neighpon, it is with great honor that I stand before you in your court.” He mentally sighed at having to make it two vessels, adding a stern wheeler to it, as well as a private mini railroad. “I thank you for the generosity of these last few days. I thank you for housing foreigners in your walls. I wish to present you a few small tokens of our thanks. With your divine permission, may I have some of my warriors enter to present these tokens from our chiefs to you?”
With a nod of the vulpine head, Pensword’s friends and warriors from the Third Gryphon War stepped forward and lay down bundles of fur, unwrapping them. They presented furs of beasts, as well as emblems of their tribes, though they were incredibly careful not to include any fox pelts in the process.
Pensword slowly removed a large item from his saddle bags. “I present to you a dream catcher personally crafted by High Chieftess Luna, using feathers from her own wings to add her magic to the wards, as well as mine to add strength.” He laid it down carefully on a small wild rabbit pelt. “It will guard you as you take your path across the dream plane.”
Two burly Thestrals stepped forward, carrying the silver chest Luna had forged on either end like the Ark of the Covenant with two long silver-plated rods.
“Finally, as requested by my own Princess, I present to you Princess High Chieftess Luna’s personal gift and gesture of goodwill.”
The warriors bent low and unhitched themselves from their burden. With the emperor’s permission, Pensword stepped forward to the chest and opened it. Laying on a silver silk cushion sat a single glass wine bottle filled with a silvery liquid that seemed to ebb and flow as if under it’s own invisible current. It glowed gently in an almost calming way. On either side of the bottle, two large ornate gauntlets of a dark blue metal that showed highly detailed images of the animals of the Thestral tribes rested.
The emperor and most of the court could only stare for a few moments before the emperor finally found his tongue.
“We shall look forward to a standard visit by the Princess when possible. Please send our thanks for her gift, and we thank you as well for your own generosity.”
Pensword bowed low again, without speaking. He stepped back a few more steps and bowed another time before stepping to the side to let the next group enter the room. Lunar Fang promptly gave him a playful smack on the back of the head to wake him up out of his daze.
“Not too much, dear,” she warned.
Pensword chuckled nervously. “Yes, dear.”
Much as pensword had done, Grif repeated the ritual, bowing three times. When he was acknowledged, Grif stood tall. “As my friend Pensword has said, you have been generous with us foreigners in your lands. You have given us food, cared for us, and provided for our needs. Unfortunately, I cannot offer the great culture that the commander has given you. I am but a ronin, giving my sword to those who can afford it and taking my enemies’ possessions. I only hope my gift pleases you.” He gave the signal to the door, and the Thestrals proceeded to bring in several large chests as well as four large oak barrels.
“From my time in the Third Gryphon War, I have collected many things. Some are priceless treasures, some mere baubles, but the finest of what I can offer, I have here.” Grif removed Vigilance from its sheath and expertly opened the first chest with a flick of the blade, revealing piles of gold beaks. The crowd didn’t seem impressed. It was just more gold, after all. Grif opened the second chest revealing the many statuettes carved from a multitude of materials. These were considered more impressive, but still not outstanding. The weapons that were revealed next gained a few gasps. Many eyes, including the emperor's, ran over the curved daggers and straight swords curiously. It was the final two chests, however, that got a gasp from the room and a greedy stare from more than a few scholars.
“I have here a collection of fifty two of Equestria's most notable authors and theorists gathered together in over two hundred volumes ranging from fiction to magical theory,” Grif said. “I do hope these books will add to your already spectacular stores of knowledge. And finally, I have four barrels of the finest cherry wine from dodge junction, renowned internationally for their quality red and yellow cherries.”
The emperor nodded his approval.
“We thank you for your gifts. We especially look forward to looking into this new knowledge of which you have spoken.”
With a bow, Grif and Avalon moved over to join Pensword, his wife, and wife-to-be before they were shown to their table.
Next came Hammer Strike, Rarity, Clover, and Vital Spark, the four chosen to have the most esteemed honor of sitting by the emperor and his council at his table. Once more, they had been decked in their finest kimonos, and as they approached, Clover conjured a lotus blossom to place before the empress. Two more orbs of light emerged from its center and flew before the king and Haku before taking the shape of a cherry blossom before the magician, and a snapdragon in front of the ruler.
“I have greatly enjoyed my time here,” Clover said respectfully. “Thank you for letting me observe your culture.”
The emperor gave her a curt nod before returning to his meal as he talked with his current ministers while the four took their place nearby.
The rest of the group proceeded to make their way in to take their seats.
When the feast was well underway, Haku whispered to the emperor. He nodded his head gravely and clapped loudly to get the meeting hall’s attention.
The emperor spoke in Neighponese, and the translator seemed to believe it wasn’t necessary to translate, so only Hammer Strike really picked up what was said. “Master Haku has called the warrior Ping to speak with him.”
It took some time, but at last Ping arrived in full battle armor with sword attached, and bowed, as was customary. “You summoned me, my emperor?”
“Master Haku is the one who has sought your presence, Warrior Ping,” the emperor said. “Speak with him.”
Ping turned to face Haku’s stern and impassive gaze.
“Ping, you have served the emperor well, and you have served me well in escorting Sai to deliver my request. You have escorted a Pony who is beyond the worth of all save my closest treasures, all save for my dear granddaughter.” He maintained a carefully composed expression, even as Ping’s tail twitched. “I have heard that you took some fascination with the peoples of Equestria, its culture, its weapons, its fighting styles, as any warrior would. You have risen through the ranks of your peers with a fluidity and grace that would have made my brother Kurama truly proud. You honor your blade, you honor your family, and now it is time for you to receive your reward.” He smiled knowingly as a tear trickled down his cheek. “I have spoken with my oldest and dearest friend, and he has agreed. Ping, in honor of your services, you shall be given the privilege of returning to Equestria with our visitors to learn at the talons and hooves of the best teachers a warrior can ask for.”
He pulled out an intricately crafted, very long sword from a polished black metal sheath to reveal a diamond-infused blade with the image of a pure white dragon circling a maiden engraved just above the hilt. “Kurama and I had this specially commissioned from Gakushu long ago at the instruction of one of the shrine priestesses. It is time for it and its intended owner to find their own path.” He presented the sword and its sheath to Ping.
“I … don’t know what to say.”
Haku stepped down and placed the sword in Ping’s hands. “Say yes. Do what you have always wished.” He paused, his voice thick with suppressed emotion. “And go with my blessing.”
Ping was silent for a time as he clutched the nodachi. His arms trembled. Then he felt the arms around him, arms that he had always known to be strong and fit, now thin and frail with age, and perhaps with something more. Ping shuddered as he felt the poison slowly infecting the old fox. The wounds may have healed, but the bite would inevitably take its toll in due time.
“Live well, Nanami,” Haku whispered. “For both of us.” Then he broke the embrace and stepped back, clearing his throat. “You have been given leave for the rest of the night. Go pack your things, and prepare for your journey. You leave in the morning.”
“Y–yes, Sir.” Nanami stared, blindsided at what her grandfather had just said and done. She now knew why he had been so intent to visit her, and yet he had never had the courage to tell her. She haltingly made her way past the banquet tables in a daze, the sword cradled in her arms like an old friend.
“And bow to your senseis, boy!” Haku snapped, though there was a playful smirk on his face, even as Nanami turned woodenly to him, and then to Hammer Strike and Grif. She bowed to each, then raced out of the room as quickly as she could manage.
“Was it something I said?” Haku asked. He wiped his eyes as he made his way back to his seat. “My apologies. Come. Let us resume.”
The day had finally arrived, and the group was working to finish up their affairs, which in Grif’s case meant handling the movements of crates of tea, random delicacies, and several large iced boxes of frozen sushi.
“It’ll be good to enjoy some of this stuff for a while,” Grif said. “Are you sure you can keep that ice until we get home?”
“Keep it up? No. Conjure to restock, though? That I can do no problem.” Vital smiled as he popped a piece of sushi into his mouth.
“Good, because I am going to enjoy this while it lasts,” Pensword spoke with a grin as he exposed a fang.
“I’m just hoping that some of the chefs will be able to replicate this stuff from examination,” Grif said, helping himself to a spicy tuna roll. “Anyways, this is my cargo. Did you guys have anything that needed loading?”
“Cryo’s already waiting back in the main quarters,” Vital Spark said. “And my stuff is packed up in the drawers, so yeah, all good on my end.”
“Cryo?” Pensword asked in confusion, shooting his head up from chewing on some of the sushi that was provided for them before they were to head out.
“You know, the cryophoenix egg. I had to call it something, so I went with Cryo.”
“You named … you name the egg? Why?”
“Because it’s still a living thing,” Grif said, “or at least we hope there’s still something alive in there.”
“Pretty sure there is. Shawn did a thaumic check on it earlier. Cryo’s alive and well,” Vital said.
“So you just need to release the phoenix inside?” Grif asked with a grin on his face as he started humming a tune.
“You know, it’s funny you should mention that, Grif. You did know about the huge iceberg I had to enter with a certain phoenix inside of it, right?”
“Unfortunately, there is no select group of heroes who could be used to revive it this time, my friend.”
“Wait, you want to release the giant Articuno?” Pensword asked in confusion. He then proceeded to blink rapidly in surprise, followed by, “... What is an Articuno?”
“We’ll tell you when you’re older,” Grif said, patting Pensword on the head.
Vital Spark burst into a fit of laughter.
Pensword pouted. “I feel like you are making fun of me.”
Did you make sure the girls are onboard?” Grif asked Pensword.
“Yes, they are onboard the ship right now.” Pensword looked around him. “I doubt I will be coming back again.”
“Well, we still got to meet with Hammer Strike for a formal goodbye,” Grif noted. “It was fun, but I’ll look forward to getting home.”
“Right.” Pensword paused as his ears twitched. He looked at one of the chests being loaded up. His gaze remained suspicious for a time before he finally shrugged and turned back to Grif again. “Lead the way.”
The group made their way towards where Hammer Strike stood before a small group of kitsune. “We’re all loaded up,” Grif told him. “All cargo present and accounted for.”
“All right, then. Let’s get going. I don’t know how long this’ll take.”
“I hope to have a nice trip home. Also, do you think we could stop for a day for Fox Feather’s and my wedding?” Pensword asked.
“You know there is this little island off the coast Shrial and I found at the end of the war,” Grif said. “I think it might be a good location for a ceremony.”
“With only those friends and family, I like that. That is what she and I wanted,” Pensword answered with a content smile.
“Just need to direct the ship, and we can make that stop,” Hammer Strike replied.
The gathering at the Gantrithor was more like a great carnival than an assembly. The emperor and all of his cabinet stood by with Haku as they stared up at the mighty vessel once more. The many citizens of the great capital had emptied to watch the warship take off for its return journey, and to bid farewell to the noble warrior who would doubtless have a great deal of training to come. A virtual palisade of fireworks and cannons had been set up to see the ship off and to help banish evil spirits to see them on the way.
Haku stepped forward to wish a final farewell to his teacher, mentor, and for nearly six years, his father. “I am sorry we couldn’t meet again until now, but I am glad we were able to spend this time together. Live well, Hammer Strike.” He bent down and embraced the Pony lord. “And take care of that egg,” he whispered. “There are many who would seek to steal it.” His eyes darted left and right. “We do not speak of our cousins often, Hammer Strike, and I dare not speak their names here, but that power is a beacon to them. They will come for it. We are the guardians of history and lore. They are the guardians of power, and the knowledge to wield it.”
“Let them come.” Hammer Strike smirked before it turned into a soft smile. “I hope to see you at least one more time, Haku.”
Haku chuckled. “Perhaps fate will be kind enough to let us. Until then, I will at least keep correspondence with you, and I hope you will with me as well.”
“Of course.”
Haku grinned. “My thanks for the dragonfire link.”
“It makes communication so much easier than all those years ago.” Hammer Strike chuckled.
“I still can’t help but wonder how you got the dragons to agree to let you use their fire in such a way.”
“...I have my ways.”
Haku chuckled. “I’m sure you do. Knowing you, you could probably punch right through their scales if you put your mind to it.”
“I’m sure I can, considering I... “ Hammer Strike took a breath. “Yeah, already broken through dragon bone and scale.”
“... I see. We will have much to write about, it seems. Please, give my thanks to your friends for coming to visit our capital. It is my hope that your lives have been enriched by our culture, for you surely have enriched our own with yours over the centuries.” He bowed, using his staff for a support. “I thank you.”
“I’m glad to have helped. And thank you for convincing them to let us visit.”
He smirked. “I had a good teacher. Most stubborn creature I’ve ever met. I guess he had an influence on me.”
“Me? Stubborn? Never.” Hammer Strike laughed.
The Gantrithor lifted off with a great wind as its thrusters activated, causing many kits to fall over as other older Kitsune raised barriers to protect against the buffetings. At last, the ship was far enough in the air that it could hover without difficulty, and the fireworks began to go off, filling the sky with vivid patterns of dragons, phoenixes, and lastly, a picture of a certain scarred Earth Pony with three young kits standing together. With the blessing of the emperor upon the vessel, and the exorcising effects of the fireworks and firecrackers, the ship began its long journey back to Equestria.
Surprisingly the liftoff within the ship was smooth, and this time around, the acceleration was gradual enough not to knock everypony to the ground. But somewhere deep in the bowels of the ship’s store rooms, three bundles moved and snickered as they opened briefly to reveal three very different kitsune heads. One was broad and heavy set with chubby cheeks and thick fur around his ruff. The second had a black spot over one eye and perpetually squinted from said eye. The third was thin and reedy with long ears and identical black swirling markings that trailed down from his tear ducts to give him a mischievous look. Carefully, they looked up over the rim of the box they had snuck into to be stored on the ship. As one, their ears twitched, and the three immediately ducked back down and sealed up their hiding places once more.
Kahn stayed quiet as he scanned the area, having already heard the movement, his sharp eyes worked in tandem with his ears to pick up where the sounds could be coming from. His wings hovered over some light blades holstered at his side that could be thrown with the wind his wings generated for lift. After several moments he seemed to turn around and leave the room.
“Is he gone yet?” a mild, calm voice asked.
It was immediately shushed. “Are you crazy, Chien-Po? You’re gonna get us caught!” a more nasally tenor voice whispered.
“Be quiet, the both of ya!” Two grunts of pain followed.
“Sorry, Yao,” they both muttered.
“Yes. Your voices grate on my nerves like cheese against a grater,” a voice said as the sacks were sent tumbling to the floor one by one before they were cut open with a single vertical slice. “Now the likelihood of your heads going to the bridge still attached to your bodies depends on your answer to my next question.” Kahn slammed his talons down on Yao’s chest as he reached for his sword. “Who ... are ... you?”
The middle one slid up on his knees. “His name is Yao, I’m Ling, and that’s Chien-Po. We were just stowing away to stay with Ping, honest! Please don’t kill us!”
“Ling, remind me to kill you later,” Yao growled as he struggled under Khan’s talons.
“Here is what we are going to do, my friends.” In a sudden flash of movement and feathers, Kahn had Ling restrained from behind. One of Ling’s arms was twisted behind him, so he was forced to lean back. Kahn’s other hand held a knife to Ling’s throat. “You two are going to get up nice and slowly, and drop your weapons. You will then move ahead of me out of the cargo hold number fourteen and into the hallway while we take a nice trip to the bridge. Move too slowly, he dies. Move too quickly, he dies. Try anything funny, and...?”
“He dies?” Chien-Po asked.
“Very good. Now then, my friends, let's begin.”
“... And kahn brought the three of them down to us,” Grif told the assembled foals, taking slow, deliberate sweeps amongst the crowds. “But by that time, we were too far away to go back. Now what would you have done?”
“Make them walk the plank!” Pipsqueak offered.
“Tempting,” Grif admitted. “Sadly, though, they turned out to be Ping’s friends, so after a long argument, we made them clean up decks nine through fifteen for the rest of the trip. It took several days. They didn’t even get to come up when we stopped for Pensword and Fox Feather’s ceremony.” Grif nodded to the couple in question in their little corner of the Punch Bowl.
Pensword smirked. “Which will be a story for another day. But it deals with lost rings and chaos across three decks.” He chuckled softly as Fox Feather whispered something into his ear. He continued, “Have to admit, those three’s loyalty to Ping is so strong they risked a lot of things and a lot of problems just to stay with them. If anything, they remind me of a few of you,” he spoke, discreetly giving a look to the CMC, Dinky, and Pip.
“But finally, we decided it was best to keep them with us. Naturally, after assuring this wouldn’t start a war, and that's…” Grif, having made his way in front of the group, again turned around and spread his wings wide. “How we saved the world, and are the greatest.”
The adults didn’t get the ending at all, but the foals erupted into loud and thunderous cheering.
98 - My One Week Vacation: It’s Just a Hop to the Left
Extended Holiday Ch 98: My One Week Vacation: It’s Just a Hop to the Left Act 14
Commander Pensword sat down in his office and sighed contentedly. He could hear less construction noise now in this area of the castle, which meant progress was being made, and he could get back to work without having to worry about loud hammers, saws, and stone work. He allowed himself a small bit of personal indulgence by looking around his office.
His desk, while not the same one he had used during the Third Gryphon War, had been constructed to be a scaled down replica to help him feel more at home. Small flags and ribbons from campaigns he had been a part of personally hung from the walls to remind him of his victories, challenges, and where he had come from.
One small wall just outside of his interior restroom had been left blank until just recently. A few pictures now hung there to gaze out and remind him of the more recent, happier times he’d had in Equestria. One showed him and his troops in a parade rest.
Another picture showed him and Princess Luna together. Luna was a little close to the camera, and her smile was a tad too wide. He allowed himself a brief chuckle. Luna had made many strides in adjusting to the modern era, but photographs were still a little difficult for her. Apparently, she’d never been that fond of posing in the first place. Considering her warrior instincts, that was perfectly understandable, though she did appear to be getting better at it.
The next photo was one of the diplomatic pictures taken just before the coup started. Pensword, Cosy, and Daedalus smiled at the camera. As usual, Cosy was carefree and grinning like the young colt he was, while Daedalus was a tad more reserved. As biased as Pensword was against Gryphons, he had to admit that seeing those sad eyes on one so young, even for a race he had only recently learned to tolerate, was a difficult thing to watch. He shook his head sadly.
“He shouldn’t have had to bear that weight yet.”
Two more pictures showed Pensword with the royal siblings at the Crystal Empire as they posed around the crystal heart and the crystal thrones respectively. One even showed the whole family as Twilight, Grif, Shining Armor, and Hammer Strike joined in the fun.
He turned back to his desk to look at the last pictures in their gilded silver frames. They always made him smile. In the first one, Lunar Fang, Fox Feather, and Moon River had surrounded him on all sides, and were busy nuzzling him in all the right spots. Naturally, because of this, he had one of the most ridiculous expressions on his face when the picture had finally been taken. What else was a stallion to do when he was so helplessly outnumbered by the girls he loved and they knew all his weak points?
The second was a little less intimate, but just as mirthful as he and the original Gryphon Slayers made a series of faces at the camera to look as goofy or stereotypical as possible.
He chuckled as he recalled those memories with fondness before returning to his task. Letters and documents lay in piles on either side of the desk. On closer inspection, it appeared Preston had sorted them by the different camps. Sadly, he had only just begun to work through the first pile when his office door slammed open and a storm-faced gray pegasus with a heavy leather smock stomped in.
Pensword sighed as he watched the carefully stacked papers fall into one another. “... How are you doing, Wrought Iron?” he asked calmly.
“Storm Hammer is at it again!” Wrought Iron shouted. His Phrench accent was showing as he slammed his hooves onto the desk and snorted in Pensword’s face.
“Good. Now could you possibly back away a little? You are getting in my muzzle,” Pensword said pointedly. “And you just gave me another few hours’ worth of work by disorganizing my desk.”
Wrought Iron reared back in shock as he noticed the havoc he’d wreaked. His face flushed with embarrassment as well as anger as he backed away from the desk to a more comfortable distance.
“Thank you,” Pensword said as he finished running through the letter he’d opened before its brothers were lost in the earthquake that was Wrought Iron’s temper. “Now then, once you have calmed down enough to have the good sense not to blow up at a superior, we can continue.”
Wrought Iron flared his nostrils a few times as he snorted and tried to rein in his temper while Pensword worked to try and get the papers organized again. When it appeared the smith wasn’t about to try breathing fire anymore, Pensword broached the subject.
“So what is Storm Hammer doing?”
“Teaching those feather bags how to forge in our ways! She’s giving our techniques and skills away for free.”
Pensword rose from his seat and made his way towards the picture mural he’d started. He needed them to help calm the anger building inside. It wouldn’t do well for the commanding officer to lose it in front of his men, however justified it may have been. The nobles already had enough ammunition they were going to bring to bear. He didn’t need to add false charges of abuse to the list.
“First off, do not call them feather bags. You can call any Gryphon from Gryphonia by that name, if you wish, but avoid the Gryphons in this city. They have earned enough respect to deserve to at least be insulted in their faces, instead of behind closed doors, and they have proven their loyalty to Grif and to Hammer Strike, as well as to me personally.” He held up a wing and extended two feathers. “Second, it is by Grif’s request that they are receiving such instruction.” A third feather rose to join the other two. “And third, they are not getting it for free. The youngest Gryphons are going to have to become smiths for the rest of their lives and serve an apprenticeship before they can open shop on their own, just like anypony else. They will be serving Pony and Gryphon alike here in Equestria, and a base fee has been agreed upon as an advance in the investment for their instruction. I’m sure Storm Hammer would have told you, if you had given her the time to explain, instead of jumping to conclusions and rushing to tattle on her. Did you have any other complaints you wanted to lodge with me?”
Wrought Iron gaped like a fish as Pensword turned to face him.
“I will take that as a no,” Pensword said. “Thank you for coming to see me about this matter.” He smirked as he made his way over to a safe that had been moved into the corner of his office. “You really are an interesting character, Wrought Iron. You are incredibly vocal, and you have spine. It takes an awful lot to get a Pony to storm into my office unannounced like that.”
“I-I didn’t mean. I mean, I wasn’t trying …. Please don’t send me home.” Wrought Iron was sweating bullets as he wrung his smock.
Pensword chuckled. “Wrought Iron, I wouldn’t dream of it. However, I cannot exactly have you and Storm Hammer tripping over each other’s hooves either. Since Storm Hammer doesn’t appear to be the problem this time, I have to think of some way to resolve the situation.” He casually opened the safe and sifted through its contents, shifting gold, precious metals, and various envelopes around.
“I … I understand,” Wrought Iron said as his tail and feathers drooped.
“Good,” Pensword said through clenched teeth as he emerged from the depths of the safe and casually shut it with a hoof before spinning the dial again. He turned to reveal a thick envelope dangling from his jaws. He promptly took the envelope in hoof and shoved it into Wrought Iron’s chest.
“I have an important project underway right now, but it’s only in the initial planning stages. It is imperative that it be kept a secret from the public for now, at least until we’ve finished the initial surveyance and planning stages.”
Wrought Iron looked down, bewildered at the envelope. “Project Memory?”
Pensword nodded. “You are aware I came forward in time from shortly after the resolution of the Third Gryphon War, correct?”
Wrought Iron nodded, then gulped.
“I want you …”
“Y-yes?”
“To be the main blacksmith in what is to become the New Unity Memorial Gardens.”
Wrought Iron broke out of his nerves as a confused expression replaced it. “Wait, what?”
“What? Did you think I was going to put you onto some sort of special secret military task force of monster hunters or something?”
“What? No, of course not! Why would I ever think about something like that?” Wrought Iron chuckled nervously as his eyes darted left and right, followed by a nervous smile. “Who told you that?”
Pensword’s right eye twitched as he firmly filed that reaction under the do not touch folder in his mind. He’d have to bring it up with Grif and Hammer Strike later, and potentially the princesses. He cleared his throat to give himself time to regain his composure, and to give Wrought Iron time to do the same.
“You will find a few rough drafts, mockups, and sketches enclosed within that envelope, alongside various budget estimates that have already been drawn up. I’d like you to meet with the architects and botanists to discuss your contributions before you draw up your own list of expenses and necessary materials. If you play your cards right, your name will be remembered for a very long time in connection to the history of New Unity and Equestria at large. Of course, this will also come with a hefty commission from the original Gryphon Slayers, the Thestral tribes, and myself. It is also quite possible that the princesses will also desire to contribute in due course, once we have presented them with a complete working model for work hours, exhibits, and expenditures.”
Wrought Iron didn’t know if this was a reward or a punishment, but either way, it was work, and based on what the commander had implied, it would be his and his alone, free from any interference from the other smiths, save if he should choose to hire them on.
“You’ll find the basics for your contract among the documents I have given you. Further negotiations and finalization will be accomplished at a later date, once you have, how do you Ponies say it today – gotten a feel? – for the resources you will require,” Pensword said as he returned to his seat and began to sort the piles of letters and papers that had fallen apart at Wrought Iron’s explosive entrance.
“Th–thank you, sir! It’ll be an honor. When do I start?”
“Immediately. You’ll find the architect’s name and address have been included in the paperwork. Just tell her I sent you, and remember, she will be your boss, not the other way around. Listen to her. I would prefer not to hear more complaints, if I can help it,” Pensword said meaningfully. “However, I have told her to take your expertise seriously, and to take all of your suggestions under advisement. I am looking forward to what you all will create.” He motioned to the door with a wing. “That will be all, Wrought Iron. You and I both have a lot of work to do. Preston will show you out.”
“Oh, yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir!” Wrought Iron enthused.
“And remember, keep it to yourself.”
Pensword smiled as the door slammed shut, then made a note to have a handypony on hoof, just in case. If Wrought Iron was any indication, that door would likely be seeing a lot of abuse in its future. He looked down at the mess of letters and documents that had shuffled out of their baskets and took one at random.
“Oh, more children’s letters!” He smiled. After that little encounter, he needed something to help him relax, and this would hopefully be just the thing. He settled into his chair and started to read the first letter, then frowned. A foal had heard her parents talking about the new bill and the implications it would have on the citizens of Equestria at large, and wanted to know why they needed a military if what the Guard and Princesses had been doing was already working to keep them safe. On the plus side, at least the child was asking an honest question. On the down side, this answer could have a heavy impact on her opinions and how she developed, and if he worded it the wrong way, the nobles could easily try to twist his response and demonize him as a propagandist. He would have to think long and hard for this answer.
“You do realize that I’m not their parents, right?” Grif asked, raising an eyebrow as he scanned the list Cheerilee had placed before him. The tap room was moderately crowded, but it also ensured nobody would be able to listen in easily on their conversation.
“I know, but based on the information from the book I got from Canterlot, you’re essentially the equivalent of a house lord in Equestria. They’ll listen to you,” she insisted.
“And as their clan lord, I’m expected to respect their ability to parent their own children. Have you at least sent letters to them?”
“Yes, but I don’t know if they’ve even read them or posted them on their wall as a proud family moment.” Cheerilee frowned. “I want my student to not pick on the Gryphons, but right now I have the Canterlot school board breathing down on my neck because Spoiled Rich contacted them about her daughter feeling threatened by the Gryphons, just by looking at her. How can my students learn about other cultures if some of the parents won’t let those cultures into the schoolhouse?” She groaned and ran her hooves through her frazzled mane. “It’s like Thestral integration all over again. There’s maybe one way to convince the board and the parents that Gryphons don’t have to be feared.”
“And that is?” Grif asked calmly as he sipped his usual raspberry cordial.
“A culture night. It will not only act as a way for the students to learn about their history, but it will also help them to understand each other better, and give them the knowledge they need to know where the boundaries are, and not to cross them. It will also give the board a chance to meet your clan and their children, and to get to know them as people, rather than characters painted in their imaginations. We’ll have to make it all inclusive, of course. Thestrals, Gryphons, Zebras, Minotaurs, Dragons, oh, and we’ll definitely need those Kitsune you brought back from Neighpon to join. That will grab my classes’ attention for sure.”
Grif furrowed his brows as he stared into his glass and swished the red fluid around. Finally, he placed it back down before looking Cheerilee in the eye. “That might be a good idea, but I have to wonder, Cheerilee. Even at half day classes, I’ve seen your schedule. You’re up to four classes now, and you're the only teacher here. Hasn’t the school board increased your budget due to the population boom?”
Cheerilee sighed. “Spoiled Rich was able to change the direction of that funding to the beautification of the grounds to attract future higher-end families to enroll in the classes. The next budget talk won’t happen till after the winter break.”
“I see.” Grif leaned back in his chair. “And if a sizable donation were to be made directly to your hooves?” Grif asked as he casually tossed a bit in the air. “If you could remodel the school and hire new staff, Miss Cheerilee, what would you do with the resources?”
Cheerilee sighed and shook her head. “That won’t work. I’d have to have that money taxed twice, and then the board would have to vote on the direction the donation will go.” She slumped back in her chair and sighed as she took a sip of one of Berry’s concoctions.
Grif finished his beverage and started to get up from his chair.
“However, if those donations were made in person to the school board, which meets every Monday night at Six PM in the school building, then said donations would have to be earmarked for the purpose that they were donated for. It wouldn’t be possible to donate anonymously, but the charter is iron clad on that front, and there’s no bar on what species can donate.”
Grif began to smile, then slowly pulled it into a grin as he turned back to face the teacher, who still remained slumped as she sipped her drink, though a hint of a smile pulled at her lips as well. “And what, in your opinion – I’m not the best with numbers, you see – would be the approximate total of bits required for the school to acquire the necessary staff and facilities?”
“Well, in theory, I’d have to say somewhere around five hundred thousand bits,” Cheerilee answered in a tone that said she was shooting for the moon. “That would modernize the school house to university level access of equipment.”
“Miss Cheerilee, I don’t know if you’re aware, but my first children are due within the very near future. Education is a gem on unimaginable value, and the compound isn’t quite outfitted to give access to proper educational resources. Despite our disagreements, I know you are an excellent teacher, and when your knowledge is adequate, you are a fair mediator. Come monday night, you can expect me to be making a sizeable donation on behalf of the parents of the Bladefeather clan, as well, I imagine, as from Commander Pensword and Lord Hammer Strike. However, there will be a caveat I will need to attach to these bits aside from them being earmarked for the school’s remodeling and expansion.”
“What is it? While it would be nice to see Spoiled Rich pull a Scared Pansy, I doubt it would fly.” Cheerilee gave a small chuckle.
“Miss Cheerilee, while you will continue to teach, I must insist that you will be named principal of Ponyville Elementary,” Grif said with a half smirk on his face. “And that you will, of course, offer equal opportunity employment to individuals based on their qualifications.”
Cheerilee choked on her drink, and the able was suddenly wet as she spluttered and tried to regain control of herself. A few attempts later, she was finally able to speak. “Only … only if I get to set how the next principal is installed.”
Grif nodded his ascent. “I’m listening.”
“The most senior Teacher. They’ll have to teach one class in the morning, so they keep up relations with the teachers and students, and they’ll have a teacher’s assistant to help with the grading.” She smiled. “I can work on finer points later on.”
“Those sound like acceptable terms.” Grif chuckled. “I would suggest you get a new placard, Miss.Cheerilee, and I do hope that next time we meet, it will be for less … tense reasons. I well speak to my clan as best I can.”
“Well maybe we could meet over a daisy sandwich sometime. I still need to get my hooves on the solid ground with regards to understanding your culture. I don’t want to offend the students and turn them off teachers in the future.” She coughed uncomfortably. “May I be so bold as to make one more request?”
“Careful, Miss Cheerilee.” Grif smiled as he tossed a few bits onto the table for Berry and helped escort Cheerilee towards the door. “People might almost believe we were friends.” he chuckled “What do you need?”
Cheerilee gave a faint smile at the joke before she turned more serious. “I want one of your caveats to demand that, starting this fall, we hold a yearly festival on the school grounds displaying each student’s heritage, either by adoption, blood, birth, or interest. It’ll make for a good celebration in Ponyville, and it will ensure each generation learns properly about their neighbors.”
“That sounds like a splendid idea. Rest assured, I will be sure to put it on the proposal. But, ah, Miss Cheerilee, you’d best make sure you find a good phys-ed teacher. A pegasus may be best. Some cubs become a lot less irritable when they’ve burned off their energy.”
“I’ll make sure to keep that in mind. Thank you, Grif.”
“Anytime, Mademoiselle, any time.” With that, he shot her a nod, and the two departed into the evening air.
“So, test number two?” Grif asked as he followed Hammer Strike away from New Unity.
“Correct. I already did the temporary infusion just before we left, so it has time to kick in and adjust to my field,” Hammer Strike replied as they moved into a familiar clearing.
“So same as before? Go all out?” Grif asked as they faced each other.
“Yes. Just be warned, this match might be just a bit... “ Hammer Strike’s eyes shifted to a purple hue and glowed faintly. “Odd for you.”
“Okay,” Grif said, once again letting his perception of time slow as he slid into the familar rush of bullet time. In an instant he launched himself forward to strike with a swipe. He was slightly unnerved by how at ease hammerstrike looked.
When his talons were less than a foot away, Hammer Strike smiled, glancing over to the talon that he shouldn’t have seen coming before moving at a speed that normally should have been impossible for him. He seemed to almost casually walk over to Grif’s side as he was still following the momentum of his swipe.
“One,” Hammer Strike said as he placed his hoof on Grif’s side and gave a strong shove.
With his momentum disrupted at this crucial point, Grif’s body went flying, sending him flipping over backwards several times against the ground.
“What in the name of the Winds was that?” Grif said, groaning as he got to his feet.
“I just found a way to … temporarily slow the flow of time for myself.” Hammer Strike grinned. “I mentioned a long time ago that this aspect is quite … powerful, I guess is the right word.”
“Okay, lets see how powerful.” Grif grinned before blasting out, sending several shockwaves of wind towards Hammer Strike.
It was at that moment that Hammer Strike simply vanished. Even with Grif slowing everything to a crawl, he couldn’t see Hammer Strike move. He was just … gone.
“Two,” Hammer Strike’s voice sounded in his ear. Grif’s eyes widened as he felt the hooves hit his side, once again launching him away and causing him to roll across the training yard’s floor.
“I think you cracked a rib.” Grif laughed as he got to his feet. With a groan of pain he threw his hands back and forward in a wide clap, sending a large wall-like wave of wind at the Pony lord.
Hammer Strike couldn’t help but smile as, once again, he forced power into the aspect of time. Everything slowed more and more until it nearly stopped moving. He could hold this for all of three seconds, as hard as it was to gauge when time was this slow. Glancing at Grif, he could see an image of himself standing beside the Gryphon, a smile on his face as he tapped his shoulder. He moved as quickly as he could to Grif’s side, mimicking himself as he brought his hoof back to push in for the final strike.
“Three,” he said, tapping Grif’s shoulder. This time, the Gryphon slammed into the ground, causing a cloud of dust to obscure everything.
“... I think you’ve made your point.” Grif coughed as he slowly rose to his haunches. He groaned as he popped his shoulder socket back into place. “That one’s going to hurt for a while.”
“We’ll get you a healer. Clover’s probably got a spell or two to take care of that, no problem.” Hammer Strike shrugged.
“All right, Hammer Strike, so what's the downside,” Grif said as he peered intently at his friend. “Because that’s a lot of power. It can’t be free.”
“I’m not just seeing our point in time is one thing. At some points, I was following myself.” Hammer Strike shook his head. The purple hue in his eyes still there. “That, and the headache, but I don’t remember that being there from last time…”
“I just hope clover can patch this up before anybody sees me. I don’t want the girls freaking out about this,” grif said as he tentatively checked his chest to find the sight of the break.
“It shouldn’t be that… bad…” Hammer Strike stopped moving as the purple in his eyes glowed brighter.
“Are you okay?” grif asked.
Hammer Strike slowly looked in the direction of Unity. His breathing began to pick up as he reached up and placed a shaky hoof on his head. After a moment he closed his eyes and grunted in pain. “Seeing too much... Energy burns.”
“Anything I can do?” Grif asked as he made his way to Hammer Strike’s side.
“I can’t stop it!” Hammer Strike grunted out louder, opening his eyes to reveal they had been completely consumed by the purple light. Suddenly, in an instant, it all stopped. The purple hue vanished, and his blue eyes stared forward, glazed over. He stood there for all of about three seconds, staring back at New Unity with Glassy eyes. Then his legs began to tremble, they gave, and he collapsed to his side, unconscious.
Grif made his way over to Hammer Strike and groaned in pain as he attempted to lift him. I was no good. The burning in his side prevented that. He attempted to use the wind, but for some reason the air seemed to stop moving when it drew close to Hammer Strike. Grif grit his teeth as he took to wing and made for New Unity as quickly as he could. The shoulder and ribs could wait. Hammer Strike needed help.
Conor stared at the artificial nest he had created as a Unicorn. Cold runes pulsed with a gentle blue light as the temperature around the cryophoenix egg was moderated to fit its needs. He casually flipped through his copy of the manuscript Shawn had given him to help him in his studies of thaumaturgy, while the spell book and series of instructions for various potions and the like sat on his other leg. A large bestiary lay open on the ground between his feet to reveal an artist’s rendering of the graceful bird.
“So, I was thinking of naming you either Cryo or Chria depending on if you’re a boy or girl. What do you think?” he asked as he looked at the egg.
“Well, it certainly is good to see you’re taking to your homework with such enthusiasm,” Clover chuckled. “A phoenix of any kind is a partner who lasts many generations. Have you thought about how you’ll make sure it’s cared for?”
“You mean after I die?”
“Yes.”
“Truth be told, I haven’t gotten that far yet. I’d forgotten that little detail. And at the rate things are going, I may not even get the chance to raise it once it’s hatched, assuming Discord manages to finish preparing … whatever it is he’s preparing to get us home again.” He frowned. “That’s going to be tough figuring out who to leave it with.”
“Sometimes I forget you’re leaving,” Clover said with a shake of her head. “Have you figured out how to reach absolute zero yet?”
“Working on it. Right now, I’ve got it down to about freezer quality. It’s enough to keep the egg in hibernation and alive, but not for it to keep developing.”
“Where are you having trouble?” she asked.
“It’s mostly being able to generate that degree of cold and hold it in constant stasis. I tend to start to get brain freeze once I go beyond negative three hundred degrees fahrenheit.”
“You're projecting the cold directly through your own being,” Clover said. “That is a problem in and of itself.”
“Well how else am I supposed to project it? I have to call my magic from within me. Every time I use it, I can feel the cold in me, too.”
“Yes, but you don’t need to will your magic to make you cold,” Clover noted. “You need the environment around the egg. Magic is a conscious act, and no mage can create an environment around themselves that they cannot survive in.”
“I’m not trying to make the area around me that cold, though. That’s what I’ve been trying to say!” Conor groaned as he planted his elbows on his books and ran his hands through his hair.
“When you use telekinesis, do you try to pick up your own horn as well as the object?” clover asked.
“No. It’s … it’s like I’m opening a sort of a door, and it has so much cold in there, but my body can only take so much of it being let out. I’m not visualizing that when I try to cast the spell, but when I access the ice that deeply, it … I don’t know, maybe it’s like it’s linked to a part of me that I’m not willing to embrace on a subconscious level?” He sighed and shook his head.
“And I thought you were the one who held the needs of others first,” Clover tsked. “And here you cannot even drop your insecurities for a helpless unborn infant who needs your help.”
“That’s not a trick that’ll work on me, Clover.” Conor sighed and shook his head.
“Well then,” Clover said as she floated a large tome over. “Cryopheonix eggs aren't just great for Kitsune. Hmm. Let’s see. Parts retrievable. The shell, of course, but there are so many things that can be done with the feet, oh and the beak has so much potential for talismans. The down ... I wonder if we’ll be able to harvest it while it’s still alive…” Clover looked up at him, her face impassive and an unreadable. From her position, he could clearly make up the cross reference of a bird chick with notes regarding the different parts.
“That’s a low blow, Clover.”
“You know me far too well to even entertain the notion I am bluffing. If you cannot reach past your insecurities, I will make use of what is before me,” she stated with complete surety.
“Damn it, Clover, this isn’t about my insecurities!” the books were flung across the floor, their pages bent from the force of the fall as they rested at awkward angles, crushing their pages.
“No, this is about the destiny of that egg,” Clover said, collecting the books as they landed, and sorting them. Her tone remained even. “But nonetheless, its fate is bleak because you are too insecure to dig for what you need.”
“You are not going to kill that egg!”
“Conor.” She gestured towards the egg, which was now covered in a thick layer of ice, along with the desk, floor, and instruments around it.
Conor gaped at the desk. “I’m not even in Unicorn form. How did that happen?”
“The amplifiers the four of you carry, that weird field of magic,” Clover said. “You released a burst when you were angry, and it threw the egg’s magic into overdrive. This is the lesson I’ve been trying to get around to you. I admit the lesson has been a bit abstract, but the egg has the magic already. You don’t need to create more cold. You need to convince the egg to make itself colder.”
“... I need to have a talk with Shawn before I go any further.”
“I think that egg should be fine for a while. I’ll put up a heat shield around this area and see what we can do about finding a more appropriate room to do this in.” Clover nodded.
Just as Conor turned to leave, the door burst open. Grif walked clumsily inside, a wing wrapped around his chest. “We have a problem,” he said as he collapsed into a chair.
“What the heck did you do to yourself? And why didn’t you get to Little Willow? She’d kill us if she knew you were walking around like this!”
“Conor, you’re my friend, but shut up. Clover, I have a cracked rib, third one on the right side, I believe. Can you fix that up? Conor, go find Pensword and the Heavies. We might need their help getting him back. Hammerstrike collapsed outside in the Everfree.”
“You’ve got him, Clover?” Conor asked.
“This should be easy enough. The damage doesn’t seem too severe. What the hell attacked you?”
“I’ll tell you on the way,” Grif said through groans as the pain of the setting and knitting bone played through his body.
Vital Spark was on the scene immediately, and barked an order at the Medic mercenaries to get the Heavies. His horn sparked angrily and the temperature in the air dropped. “And no experiments,” he warned. The medics knew better than to question him in that state, and the Heavies were soon found in short order. Afterwards, they were taken to the gate, where Grif and Clover were waiting.
Grif led the group across the bridge and towards the clearing where hammerstrike currently lay unconscious. A butterfly seemed to have been flying by, and was slowed to a crawl as it drew near the prone body.
“What happened to Hammer Strike?” Heavy set asked as he approached. He leaned in to get a better look, and his sandwich slipped from his saddlebag, slowing in midair as it fell. Shrugging, Heavy Set leaned his head in to grab it, and the group watched for a moment as his body seemed to be moving normally, but his head was moving in slow motion.
“Okay, direct contact is probably a bad idea,” Clover noted.
“So plan B?” Vital Spark asked.
Clover attempted to lift Hammer Strike the way she had the first time she’d had to carry him, but that seemed to fail. Finally, she proceeded to create another large platform of magic in the air above the comatose Pony before casting a gravity spell on him. The weirdest thing was as gravity pulled him upwards, Hammerstrike “fell” in slow motion.
“... Okay, guess we should have expected that,” Vital Spark said. Just as he finished, Hammer Strike’s body accelerated, nearly slamming into the bottom of the platform. Before anyone could make another comment, his body suddenly started to fall back down, froze in mid air for a moment, then flashed back up to the platform once again.
“That’s weird,” Grif noted.
“Just what did he do, Grif?” Vital asked as he stared at the bizarre spectacle.
“He was using the time aspect. It was supposed to be a lesson about temporary aspects added to the thaumic field. Last time he’d done it with speed, and nothing went wrong.”
“Grif, time and speed are two completely different animals. One is a guinea pig, and one is a freaking lion!”
“Thaumicly speaking, they both have the same consequences,” Grif noted, “or so I thought.”
“Let’s just get him back to the castle and try not to get him plowing into the ground while we’re carrying him.” Vital spark shook his head and groaned. “Like today wasn’t complicated enough as it is.”
Clover’s horn glowed bright as several more platforms boxed Hammer Strike inside, and the group moved forward towards New Unity.
They eventually arrived at the infirmary, where more than one pair of eyes followed the party as they made their way in with a practically immobilized Hammer Strike.
“Could we get a bed, please?” Vital Spark asked politely.
They were brought to an empty cot. Clover released her spell and proceeded to set him down on the mattress. The indent formed slowly, as though his weight were setting in slow motion, despite having been lowered at normal speed.
Clover looked around before fixing her eyes on Grif. “All right, what did he do? You were there when he collapsed, so tell us what happened.” She quickly raised a hoof to cut off any protests Grif might make. “Without betraying his teachings. I’m not looking for the science, just the essential facts.”
With a deep breath, Grif told the group the entire story, leaving out the technical details, as Hammer Strike would have wanted, but giving them the general jist of it.
“Hasn’t he had enough messing with time as it is with all the traveling he’s had to do?” Vital groaned as he rubbed a hoof on the bridge of his nose.
“What you are talking about is time travel. I am actually using something more along the lines of… messing with the flow of time,” Hammer Strike suddenly said from behind the group. The bed was now empty. He grunted softly as his eyes shifted to a purple hue. “I need to burn off the energy to get it out of my system, and this … may be the safest way. I’ll have to look into it another time…”
“Just what are you doing, Hammer Strike?” Vital Spark asked.
Hammer Strike shushed him as he held a hoof to his head. “Wow, that was terrible. I just heard you say five things at once. To answer your question, I don’t think she’d help out that much.” He looked over to Vital for a moment. “No wait, that wasn’t the one you asked right now … I’m burning off energy?” He said, hoping he was answering the right one.
“... What?” Vital cocked his head.
“He’s hearing all your points in the conversation at once,” Grif said.
“Yes. I accidentally put too much into my field,” Hammer Strike replied, shaking his head. “This is just weird to hear…”
“You're going to be okay, right?” Grif asked.
“No, he wouldn’t be able to help much.” Hammer Strike shook his head. After a moment he looked to Grif’s expression and tried again. “I should be, after I burn off the energy?” he said with uncertainty.
“I don’t suppose The Doctor could help with this?” Grif asked
Hammer Strike stared blankly at him for a minute.
“I … think he already answered that one, Grif,” Vital Spark said. “Um … maybe I could do something? Could you maybe stabilize it by using one of my aspects?”
“No, I don’t think that would work out for the best.”
“Then what if we were to ask the TARDIS for help?”
“Yes, Grif is right, I’m hearing all points in the conversation,” Hammer Strike replied.
Clover created large blue letters in mid air that spelled out, ‘Is there anything we can do to help?’
Hammer Strike looked over the letters, then around him for a moment before he realized what he was seeing. “Ah, you figured out a way to make this easier. As for anything you can do, I don’t know. These… enhancements typically burn off over a course of time, so I just need to keep using it.”
She looked over to the other side of the room, where more large letters, this time in bright orange, asked, “You aren't worried that time will loop in on itself?”
“What do you mean? As for the current loop I’m dealing with, it’ll end soon enough,” Hammer Strike dismissed.
She looked to the far east corner, where green letters spelled, “Time is a fourth dimensional force. You aren't worried that the time you expel will empower the time inside of you, creating a self-sustaining loop?”
“I can’t explain how things will end, but just know that they will, because even with this loop that you’re mentioning, it’s being lessened with each run, getting weaker and weaker over time.”
“Like an echo of an echo,” Vital postulated.
“Yes,” Hammer replied.
“So how close are you to finishing this … phase off?”
“... Yes.”
Pensword looked at his daughter, who was busy ducking and rolling after some imagined creature as he sat there at his desk and pondered what Grif had told him. The school system did have to change. That much was evident just based on the sheer load Cheerilee had to deal with lately. Moon River would be entering into that stage of life in a few years, as would many of the Thestral children of troops stationed at New Unity. He kept his eyes on Moon River as she turned to smile at him. She began to walk over, babbling and moving her wings about in her usual joyful manner. To her, the world was still new, interesting, and ripe with Ponies to play with. Pensword smiled back at her as she drew near.
“Come here, Moon River. Help daddy to craft something. We are going to change history.” For a moment, Pensword could have sworn she’d understood his words as she stared intently at him. Then she shook her head, as if refusing before giggling and motioning for him to come to her.
Pensword chuckled as he got out from behind his desk and walked over to the young foal. At the last moment, Moon River pounced and landed on his back.
“Daddy, ride! Daddy, ride!” she cheered. Pensword looked to the draft and smiled. It could wait a little longer. After all, the proposal would last for hundreds of years, and hopefully millenia. His time with his daughter would only last a few decades.
“Okay, dear. But hold on. We are going to be moving, and I do not want you falling and hitting your head.”
“Okay, daddy,” Moon River replied happily.
“Now remember, no flying for the day. Mommy and the doctor want your wing to heal.” He couldn’t help but grin at the cute pout Moon River made as he walked her about the office before she squirmed and pointed out the window. “Down! Down! I want grass!”
“Okay,” Pensword chirped happily to his daughter. While they traversed the hallways together, he gave Matthew some space, so they could talk. As usually happened, he felt overwhelmed by these strange and foreign concepts. “Right, overnight trips to the fort or on base. Summer trips and adventures.” He paused. “Okay that one is more suited for the Filly and Colt Scouts. Still a good idea…. Wait, they let how young into your subs?” Thankfully the hallway was empty except for Moon River, who made a confused sound. “Not you, dear. I was shouting at my invisible friend.”
“Oh … being silly?” She asked with a giggle.
“Yes, he is,” Pensword replied with a laugh. “Now, what my silly friend did was throw ideas out for school, and how to make it fun.” Matthew was shocked at how fast she was developing. For Pensword, she was just above the curve by maybe a few months. Still, Pensword continued his conversation, despite Matthew’s disbelief and questions. “He was telling me about field trips and places for fun, and I think we need to do money for a third floor with a bell tower.” He chuckled. “Oh, with a woodshop and metal shop. No forges, of course. It would be for the older kids.” He chuckled, then stepped outside, only for her to jump off and race off.
“Oh…” Pensword yelled before chasing her. “Come back here, please… Don’t go to the stone cutter's camp!” He was already in the air, flapping frantically as Moon River giggled and cheered at the fun little game. “Moon River, stay put! Guards, get that filly towards the gardens!” As frustrating as these little antics may have been, he couldn't help but smile as he gave chase. She wasn’t in any real danger as long as the older Ponies knew to keep an eye out for her. He only wished Cosy could be there, so she could get a play date, but the next meeting wouldn’t be until her first birthday in another five months. Though that did remind him. He would need to get into town soon to discuss a little something with the mayor. He looked forward to that conversation very much as he dove down and scooped up a shrieking Moon River in his hooves.
“Got ya.”
Moon River giggled as she booped his nose. After all the stress he’d been dealing with lately, this was most definitely a welcome distraction.
“You ready?” Grif asked. He and pensword were stopped outside Ponyville City Hall. Inside, the regional school board meeting was being prepped. Grif had chosen to dress in an armored black jacket with a red stripe down his right arm flanked by a white stripe on both sides. A choreographed symbol of an N and a seven stood brightly over his he left side of breast.
Pensword was dressed in a suit jacket decorated with a set of miniature medals he’d earned during the Third Gryphon War. A military swagger stick hung under his left wing, and a sugar cane stalk had been casually held in the corner of his mouth. He looked like a retired General, using the two emblems always found in the more famous paintings.
“I am ready. This sounds like it is going to be fun. Also, I am happy we were informed that they moved the meeting from the schoolhouse to the town hall.
“You have the copies of the proposal?”
“Three on my person, two in my desk, one at Twilight’s, one at Luna’s, and one with Princess Celestia,” Pensword answered. “You know how much I like having redundancies.”
“And one for each of the board members?” Grif said, raising an eyebrow.
“In the attache case.” He chuckled. “I haven’t used that since Matthew first came here in that costume.”
“Good.” Grif nodded, and, without ceremony, pushed the door open. The meeting room had been lined with chairs which were filled with the various parents who could afford to come to the meeting as well as a table at the front where nine Ponies sat with a podium in the center aisle for people to address them. Bon Bon smiled kindly at them and gave a brief nod as they entered.
“At least there’s one dependable member on the board,” Grif mumbled.
Grif and Pensword took their seats at the back of the room and waited as the board went over the minutes of the previous meeting and proceeded to address “important items.” Grif noticed that Spoiled Rich seemed to be doing a lot of whispering with her fellow board members before a vote happened, and she seemed to be smirking quite often at the end of it. Finally, after what had to be two grueling hours, the floor was opened to new business and concerns from the parents.
Pensword held a wing to stop Grif. He nodded to Derpy, who stepped up to the podium and proceeded to talk about two issues. First, she wanted like to see blueberry muffins in every lunch meal and the second, she wanted to know about the possibility of updated textbooks for the children.
“I’m afraid there is no money in the school’s budget at this time to facilitate these requests, Mrs.Hooves,” the chairpony told her with an almost regretful smile on his face.
Derpy frowned but nodded her head. “Okay. Maybe next meeting you will?”
The chairpony simply kept up his smile as Derpy left the podium and walked back to her seat.
“I hope you did not mind me letting Derpy go first?” Pensword Asked Grif as he moved to get up.
“If anything, it makes it obvious what we’re doing now is necessary,” Grif whispered back as he got up, lifting the only thing he had brought with him, a large, heavy-looking wooden chest.
Pensword walked up to one of the guards standing at the side of the room and winged over the attache case, which the Unicorn placed on a small table, opened, and proceeded to pull out the rolls of parchments before handing them out.
“I am sorry gentlep-” Spoiled Rich began before amending her statement, “gentlebeings, but the offering of proposals or suggestions are to be done on the first meeting of the month. Maybe you can come back with them then.”
Pensword smiled. “Actually, if you notice the top of the scroll, it is entitled and sealed by not just my own seal, but by the Bladefeathers, and at least three Thestral clans, as well as Princess Twilight Sparkle’s personal seal. This has royal leverage to be looked at tonight. Would you like to know that you refused to listen to something vested by Princess Twilight Sparkle?”
“The board will recognize commander Pensword and Mr. Bladefeather on these grounds,” the chairpony said, shooting spoiled rich a glare. “Clan Leader Grif Bladefeather, you have the floor.”
Grif moved to stand at the podium and cleared his throat.
“Members of the board, parents and citizens of Ponyville.” Grif gave a nod to the board and turned to equally acknowledge the assembled citizens, who barely even filled a fifth of the room. “Please keep in mind that we are not entering into your presence making an outrageous demand that your tax money should pay for.” With that, Grif slammed the chest down near the podium and unlocked it, opening the lid wide as golden bits spilled out and onto the floor.
“We wish to donate this chest, and seventy chests like it, all equally filled with bits, towards the relocation, construction and expansion of the Ponyville schoolhouse in order that the students may receive a full education in a safe, calm environment, preferably without the overworked teacher desperately trying to sort her head from her hooves. Naturally, this would also include school supplies and the like. The entire proposal outlining what we would have this donation used for has been handed to each of you, along with a simple list of reasonable caveats and safeguards to ensure proper handling.” Grif looked to pensword, and he nodded, taking the cue.
“We made sure that none of these lists contain a forge. That will be for another project at a later point, perhaps for when the foals are approaching adulthood.” More than a few parents seemed relieved at that statement, though it smarted Pensword to see so many were worried that they would be that careless. “It is our hope that some of those demands be seen as constructive. For example, hiring a physical education teacher whose sole purpose will be helping the children to burn off energy while staying relatively fit. Grif informs me that it should help lessen any outbursts and the like from the Gryphon cubs, something that I think every parent here should be grateful for,” he said, looking directly at Spoiled Rich.
“Our second request comes from Twilight herself. Naturally, that does not come as much of a surprise to everypony.” A few chuckles broke out. “We agree with her,” Pensword continued. “An updated library would do wonders for our children’s education, and will allow them to broaden their horizons with more modern, fresh literature and texts. Twilight has done a wonderful job teaching the foals of Ponyville in her free time, but she does have other responsibilities as a princess that make juggling the library and the children on top of everything else about as stressful as handling so many classes has been for our beloved Miss Cheerliee.” A low murmur started to spread through the crowd as parents brows furrowed and discussion began.
“The third dedication was actually inspired by an activity Miss Cheerliee has asked me to be a part of, and Grif, Lord Hammer Strike, Twilight Sparkle, and myself all agree that it would be a marvelous addition to the community and its spirits. It is our desire to establish an annual cultural celebration portraying the history, lore, foods, games, and customs of races throughout Equis. With all the many delegations and representatives we’ve had from around the world staying at New Unity, we have a boundless source of information and volunteers to assist in the endeavor, and to teach our children exactly what peoples live without and within the borders of Equestria.
“With all that has happened in the last couple of years, Ponyville has and will continue to grow, and that means our population will grow with it. A single teacher simply cannot handle the load alone anymore. The time has come for structure and organization, starting with the first principal of Ponyville Elementary. Naturally, we have our preferences, but we are not in charge, and would never dream of trying to force our views or opinions on others. As such, we brought this issue to the attention of the town’s many leaders for recommendations, including Lord Hammer Strike, Princess Twilight, Mayor Mare, and each of the Elements of Harmony. You will find their recommendations below.”
“Why … there’s only one name,” Spoiled Rich objected.
“Could you think of anypony better for the job?” Grif countered. “She is the only certified Pony for miles.”
Spoiled rich looked positively livid. She sped through the document, flapping attachments and zipping the scroll so quickly, it almost looked like smoke was coming from the sheer friction generated against the table. Grif smiled wide as he watched her eyes twitch and the vein throb on her temple. She wouldn’t find a single fault to capitalize on. Every T was crossed, every I was dotted, and to refuse this perfectly reasonable proposal and such a generous donation would been seen as positively incompetent.
“You will notice we have left small suggestive remarks as to possible programs any remaining bits could be put towards, such as a breakfast program, more funding towards special events like the Applewood Derby, and the creation of extracurricular clubs. We have also suggested the school appoint a proper student government to hear issues and thoughts for the students themselves. It is our children who will be attending this school, and they are our future. It is our belief that this proposal would insure that future is bright and beautiful, affording each child an equal opportunity to try new things and expand their horizons in preparation for adulthood,” Grif said. Several parents stomped enthusiastically behind him.
Pensword couldn’t help but chuckle silently on the sidelines. He knew Grif would take good care of this, and he was happy to see how neatly trapped Spoiled was. Until now, Filthy Rich had been one of the main contributors to the budget, and that held major weight for the mare. Now there was a new donor in town, and the record had clearly been given in a manner that would be impossible to suppress or alter as to that donation’s intent. He watched with some satisfaction as Spoiled squirmed in her seat.
“So then, board members, I ask you to vote now. I realize this is a major proposal to consider, but I feel that you owe it to the parents present to let them know. It is for their sake that you're here, after all.”
Spoiled Rich’s eyes darted back and forth between the parents, Grif, Pensword, and her fellow board members. When the chairpony was about to respond, she quickly shot her hoof into the air. “I wish to make a motion!” she said hastily, even as she struggled to keep her voice level.
The chairpony turned to look at her. “The chairpony recognizes Board Member Spoiled Rich.”
Spoiled took a deep breath, then proceeded. “This is all rather sudden. There's a lot of information here, and while it does follow the rules for donations of where funds go, we do have a month to look over the document. I’m not saying that we should deny what could singlehoofedly, or handedly as the case may be, be the greatest donation Ponyville has ever seen. But without a thorough knowledge of the contents of this proposal, I believe it would be foolish to press forward. As such, I move that we take the time to review this proposal in depth before we reconvene on this business one month hence.”
The other members looked nervously at one another before slowly nodding their heads. While this donation was too good to be true, and would give them all a welcome relief, she had a valid point. The chairpony sighed.
“Will anyone second the motion?”
One of the members raised a timid hoof. “I ... second the motion …”
“... Very well. Thank you, Board Member Ever Glow. All in–Yes, Miss Bon Bon?” the chairpony asked. Bon Bon was standing on her seat, and continued to look calmly at the chairpony, despite the murderous looks she was getting from Spoiled Rich.
“If it please the chairpony, I wish to motion for an amendment to Board Member Spoiled Rich’s proposal. While the documentation is fairly substantial, a month seems a little extreme when all of us have plenty of time outside our work schedules to review the document. A week should be sufficient for us to review the papers and draw up any objections or concerns, at which time we can bring them to bear with Grif and all the parents present.”
“The motion is noted. Will anyone second the motion?”
A burly black stallion with a chalky grey mane and tail raised a hoof. “I second the motion,” he rumbled.
“Thank you, Board Member Blank Slate. The motion is duly noted. As such, we shall vote on both, starting with Spoiled Rich’s proposal first. “All in favor for the former motion?”
Spoiled raised her hoof. She glared down the line at the remaining ponies, where two smaller mares raised trembling hooves.
“All opposed?” Six Pony hooves rose.
“The motion is denied. The secretary will please note the time and date of the action, and we will carry on to the second motion. All in favor of reconvening after a week’s time of study to approve or deny the donation’s proposal?” Bon Bon stared defiantly at Spoiled Rich as she raised her hoof, along with Blank slate and the other members, including the chairpony. Some glared with undisguised malice, others with smug smiles.
The chairpony remained perfectly neutral as he spoke. “Then the motion is carried. The secretary will please note the time of the vote and the result for future reference. This body will meet as a collective in a week’s time to discuss the contents of the donation and its designations.” The secretary nodded as he typed on the typewriter before nodding again to indicate the motion had been notarized. “The record is duly noted, and the board shall reconvene on the matter of this donation in one week’s time. We would encourage all parents to attend, so that they can fully understand the impact these designated funds will have on them and their children. Afterwards, we will vote. Have you any further business with the board, Commander, Mr. Bladefeather?”
“Not at this time, Mister Chairpony,” the two friends said.
“Very well. If you could please return to your seats, we would like to invite any other Ponies with business or concerns to take the floor.”
With a polite nod, Grif and Pensword returned to their seats.
“I think we’re going to have to take a very close look at Spoiled Rich,” Grif said as he leaned close to his friend.
“Agreed. The intimidation factor is positively deplorable. I will see about arranging an investigation.”
“It will likely need to be a joint effort from a non-biased party.”
“I think Princess Twilight would make a suitable neutral candidate, wouldn’t you say? After all, she is Princess Celestia’s protege, values knowledge more than life, and she is exceptionally thorough in her research and investigations. If somepony is doing something to hinder the education of young Ponies....” He left it hanging.
Grif smirked. “Pensword, I like the way you think.”
Hammer Strike sighed as he moved his way to his forge. After all this time, he’d finally burned off the aspect of time enough to let the rest bleed off him naturally, giving him brief flashes of the near future and near past. He paused as he put a hoof to his door. He could feel a presence somewhere near him.
Pushing open the door, he found a stallion he was fairly positive he’d never seen before. Albeit said stallion was behind a newspaper, so he couldn’t be sure. He sat on an old-fashioned high-backed chair Hammer was certain he’d never had in his forge, and a small curl of smoke seemed to be rising from behind the paper, filling the room with the smell of tobacco.
“Uh… Hello?” Hammer Strike called, confused.
The paper lowered, revealing a brown stallion's muzzle with his mane slicked back. A blackwood pipe hung idly from his mouth and as he folded the paper, and put it away. He wore a cream-colored sweater vest with a white shirt and a muted brown tie beneath it. He grabbed the pipe in one hoof and pulled it from his mouth to speak in a calm, strangely welcoming tone.
“Well hey there, sport! Glad to see your back on your hooves. Good for you!”
“Uhh…. Yes. Question. Who are you?”
“Come on, son. You should know that! You just messed with forces you haven’t fully comprehended. What happened last time you did something crazy like that, huh?”
“Depends on which one you count. If you count the corrupted, that’s one, but other than that, it was when I blacked out in fury,” Hammer Strike replied simply before glancing at the newspaper to check the date. “Oh, boy. Either you’re joking around with that paper, or I need to figure out how to see everyone without harming myself…”
“You kids and your newfangled messing with the foundations of the universe.” He chuckled and shook his head before taking a few more puffs of his pipe.
“Hey, it’s either that or practice with deadly weapons. I chose the fun route.” Hammer Strike shrugged.
“That's good, slugger. Always let the other guy hit first with the deadly weapons. Then you can’t get in trouble. But don’t tell Mom I said that,” he said in a conspiratorial whisper before winking at Hammer Strike.
“I feel like I can hardly understand you.”
“You will someday, son. You will,” the stallion laughed.
“So … everything fine with the whole time travel and messing with time deal, or are you here to tell me to cut back on it?”
“Hey, it’s perfectly natural to be curious about dad’s toys, kiddo. Just be careful, and don’t let Mom catch you next time. You worried her half to death.”
Hammer Strike felt part of his mind drifting off as he tried putting some sense of thought into what in the world the stallion meant. “...Who...?”
“Mom, son. You know, Mother Nature? Or as i like to call her, that swell girl,” he said as a warm smile graced his lips and he stared off into space.
Hammer Strike couldn’t help but think back to every stereotype of a father from the 1900’s. “Got… it...? Question. Will I even be able to see her?”
“Sure you will. Just not right now. She’s busy what with global warming, deforestation, the Everfree Forest invading, droughts–”
“I’m sorry, what was that last one?”
“Droughts?”
“No, the other one.”
“Deforestation?”
“No. The other one.”
“Global warming?”
“The one you haven’t mentioned yet!”
“... Droughts?”
“...Nevermind. I give up.” Hammer Strike groaned.
“Well anyway, kiddo, I should probably leave you to your homework. I’ll talk to you later, sport. Oh, and I almost forgot your allowance.” He chuckled as he withdrew a bit from his pocket and threw it to Hammer Strike. “Don’t spend it all in one place.” And with a wink, he and the newspaper were gone. The chair, however, remained.
Hammer Strike felt his eye twitch as he caught the bit. Looking it over a few times he could note the date of its manufacturing was around a hundred years ahead of the current year. After a moment he pocketed the coin and rubbed his face, not even bothering to acknowledge the chair as he moved over to his metal storage and started work. He needed to decompress.
“Thank you for meeting with me on such short notice, Princess Sparkle,” Pensword said as they walked side by side up the steps into the town hall. “I hope you got the scroll outlining my ideas and thoughts.”
“Of course, Pensword. But I’ll admit, I was surprised at your letter. I assumed you wanted to keep the fort as is for all the new recruits that’ll be coming in.”
“Right now, New Unity is the seat of all the humans and warriors. It would be a pain in the feathers and tail to trek here and work, when it would be easier to train them there at the moment. Right now we are doing stop-gap movements until we can get the bill passed and a fully dedicated location for boot camp. From there, we will have them shipped off to military bases all over Equestria.
“Twilight, we also, that is to say Matthew, Shawn, and Taze gave the base to Ponyville to use as they see fit. Besides, if I want officers, I need to start now and establish an ROTC.” He paused and smirked. “That stands for Reserve Officer Training Corps. They are what will eventually be an integral part in training all future officers while they get their college degrees. That means that the military will be paying for their tuition in exchange for a set number of years of service. Right now we are thinking between five and ten years with options to extend.”
“So you wanted to see about using the fort’s land for something else, right?” Twilight asked. “Based on the amount of research you asked me to do, I think I know where this is going.”
“Well, that is the thing. As the princess of this region, you are the de-facto owner of those lands, and thus of the fort. This means that you can do as you wish with it. I was hoping that with it becoming a University, you could draw the smartest and brightest here to Ponyville to allow you to, well, create a hot bed of innovations in all the sciences from magic to flight. With the plans, we even will have some agricultural degrees as well.” Pensword smiled. “To have the University, we will need you to sign the land over to Ponyville with the express purpose of building that university in mind. The buildings are standing, and you can retrofit them and eventually expand them. The land around it can be moved and bought. I advise buying the land sooner, rather than later, as when Ponyville will grow, they will build up around the school fast.” Pensword stopped talking as they stood at the secretary’s desk.
“Hi, we’re here to meet with Mayor Mare. We have an appointment?”
The secretary gave a confused look before she quickly moved to the doors and reached for the handle, only to be smacked in the muzzle by it opening.
“Honestly, she’s a princess for Tartarus’ sake,” Mayor Mare said as she flung open the door. “If she wants to see me, she can see me. Stop doing that!” She rolled her eyes and signaled Twilight inside, then looked to her secretary and sighed. “Sorry about that, Miss File. Take the rest of the day off on me.” She closed the door behind her and casually took her spot behind her desk before pouring a shot of cider and downing it immediately. “Forgive me, Princess. It’s Tuesday in Ponyville.”
Pensword nodded his head. “So, dare I ask if anything has happened this Tuesday?”
“Another bunny stampede,” Mayor Mare said, sighing. “Seriously, how does this entitle a town-wide emergency? I’m getting insurance claims on gardens here. The town’s insurance is ridiculous as it is, and I’m supposed to show the company these?”
“I am sure New Unity can help our neighbor town, if you can give a list before we leave, I am sure I can give it to Lord Hammer Strike for review.”
“Thank you, Commander. As always, our neighbors in New Unity are good friends,” she said, giving him a grateful smile. “Now, Commander, Princess, what can I do for such esteemed company?”
Twilight looked a bit nervously around as she rubbed a hoof against the other before she shook her head and reestablished control over her actions. “Pensword had a suggestion he wanted to run past you before I consider moving forward with the plan. Since you’re the mayor, and seem to know everypony the best, you’d probably know whether or not this would be a worthwhile investment.”
“The proposal is that, seeing as the military base became property for Princess Twilight Sparkle, and Ponies here in Ponyville are already feeling the beginnings of growth from the trade and income brought by the workers helping to restore New Unity, I would rather not tear down the buildings, but instead repurpose them into a new university. While Celestia’s school for the Gifted is a noble contribution, it is a school only powerful Unicorns are able to attend. We would like to establish a school where everypony can enjoy an education in whatever field they wish to study under the main principles of harmony, and what better place could there be for that than the very village the Elements of Harmony call their home?” Pensword asked.
“Isn’t Ponyville's population still somewhat small to have a university?” Mayor Mare asked as she began rummaging through papers “I’m sure there was a population limit on this sort of thing.”
“Mayor Mare, I’m afraid there’s one population you’re actually failing to take into account,” Twilight said a bit uncomfortably. “We have a burgeoning population of Gryphons nearby who are about to be integrated as a part of our community. There’s also the matter of students traveling to Ponyville from other towns, and the other Ponies who are living and trading in New Unity.” She smiled sheepishly. “I’ve actually already taken the liberty of drawing up the necessary figures and diagrams for you to review, along with the proper zoning requests to lay before the boards in triplicate, and I’ve even drawn up a list of potential investors who are willing to assist with the project.” A heavy load of papers slammed on top of Mayor Mare’s desk.
“I see you’ve covered the financial bases. And what about staffing? Teachers are easy to come by, but professors are another story. Teachers are, after all, somewhat more flexible about the subjects they teach. A professor has to specialize.”
“You’ll find that in the index for manuscript H, table 3. It features the top professors classified by their fields, professionalism, reviews, going rates, and permanent records.”
“And you're fairly confident Princess Celestia will be willing to accredit this facility? You understand as a resident princess, you yourself cannot be part of the committee that decides if it will be credited or not.”
“I have every confidence in Celestia, Luna, and Cadence’s judgement on the matter. And besides, the worst that can happen is that they say no. And since I’ve pretty much done all the paperwork for you, it won’t be that much of a loss for you as mayor.”
“And I am going to guess that you plan on interweaving a military program into the scholarship program, Commander?” Mayor Mare asked.
“That is correct, as that will make up about ten percent of funding. Matthew informed me that officers were given college opportunities so they would be educated and well trained when they joined the force. In exchange for a full ride military scholarship, the recipient would have to perform a seven year tour. We also discussed that those who are honorably discharged from the military will be given vouchers for university training as well. However, like I said, it is starting at only ten percent of initial investment and funding for now.”
“Well, your plans seem sound,” Mayor Mare noted as she flipped the first few pages to see the veritable avalanche of text and technical terminology. “Unfortunately, I can’t give you an approval until after the next council meeting.”
“I understand. I’m just hoping the town will be willing to give this school a chance. It could really do a lot for Ponyville, and more importantly for all the little foals I tutor, once they get old enough. Thank you so much for your time.”
“Anything for you, Twilight. You’re always welcome here.”
“So, Twilight Sparkle, I take it when you trained with Celestia, she would give you formal reviews, correct?” Clover asked. The two of them stood in the center of a large ring that had been bordered with powerful warding runes and shielding charms. Clover's battle staff floated at her side, its mace-like end freshly polished and sharpened.
“Yes. And I’m guessing you’re about to do the same for me, judging by all these runes and protective measures.” Twilight held her own focus in her magic. Its flat blade had been carefully maintained, and its star-cut amethyst shone brightly as its ruby-red core burned. The five precious stones that adorned its root-like protrusions flickered like little stars, and the strengthening runes flared in anticipation for the exercise that was to come.
“Well I’d hate to have to explain to Celestia why the surrounding ten miles is nothing but a pile of smoking slag ... again,” Clover said. “Celestia has praised your ability to learn and apply magic quickly. As you should have realized by now, these are the cornerstones of being a good battle mage, but only when properly tempered with determination and drive. Neither of us will be leaving this circle until you have successfully scored five consecutive hits on my person. You may use any elemental or combat magic to do this, but expect me to respond in kind. Once we’ve started, I am your enemy, not your teacher, and this is something you must remember at all times. Is that understood?”
Twilight gulped and nodded her head. “Yes, Ma’am.”
“You can start when ready.”
Twilight took a deep breath, then started off with a well-calculated lunge, lifting her weapon to strike on a downward arc.
Without blinking, Clover whipped her staff outward and flames erupted out of it like a whip towards Twilight, scalding her right flank. “You get points for remembering that’s a weapon you’re holding, but the blade is there for your personal defense. It shouldn’t be your first decision”
“It wasn’t.” Twilight smiled as Clover found her legs rooted to the spot as they sunk into the floor before it hardened again. “First thing Hammer Strike taught me: rely on magic second, but always have a backup plan if a regular attack won’t work.”
Clover nodded in approval “A good start, but not quite enough.” Large stone walls erupted around her. At first Twilight thought Clover was shielding herself, but soon it became clear there was another meaning as the stone began to crumple and bend around Clover until what looked like a very crudely made stone Unicorn stood before her, and then, miraculously, the stone Unicorn began to move. Clover was free from her imprisonment. She proceeded to duck and roll towards Twilight. Her hooves shot forward, and pebbles shot off of them at high velocity.
Twilight twirled her staff as a makeshift shield and proceeded to rush to the side before she lashed out with a fire spell. A concentrated jet of purple flame tinged with red and white shot from the star on her staff and circled to form a fiery tornado before it changed its shape into a writhing fiery serpent. It wrapped its coils around the stone and squeezed as its light and heat grew more intense. Even as she maintained the spell, Twilight looked warily around the area. Clover was no fool, and she had hundreds of years more experience. She would need to keep her senses sharp to avoid any counterstrategies the mage might come up with.
A pair of hooves sprung from the ground and grabbed onto Twilight’s back legs before pulling her down. The earth moved like water around them until she found herself submerged up to the neck. The hooves released, and Clover erupted from the ground in front of her seconds later, her red hot focus floating back to her from the coiling flaming serpent. “Remember, when fighting a Unicorn, all directions are viable to attack.”
“I know.” Twilight smirked as the light in her horn and her focus radiated like a miniature sun. There was a deep rumble as the earth erupted upwards to form a giant Earth Pony golem whose features were a mixture between Big Mac and Hammer Strike. With a light tug of its hoof, Twilight was released from her prison on its head and returned to its back as it bellowed before punching with its giant hoof.
“Interesting golem, but you can do better.” Clover chuckled as she slammed her staff into the ground. In seconds, vines crawled from the ground and on top of each other. A bundle of these vines wrapped around the stone hoof. The sheer momentum and force would have snapped a single vine instantly, but the intertwined nature of the vines absorbed the momentum as they continued to grow and shape into an earth pony the size of Celestia herself. Leaves and twigs grew from the top and sides of its form as a vague face seemed to take shape at the head. It looked down at the stone hoof, then at the golem, and growled. And then, to Twilight’s shock, it spoke.
“I,” it pressed the stone leg as the stone cracked and shattered under the pressure of nature’s fury. “Am.” Shoots shot off the leg and began intertwining the stone before tearing it, and by extension Twilight’s stone golem, apart. “GROOT!” it roared.
“Animating stone takes mana to shape, mana to mold, and mana to keep it moving. Plants have their own life force and energy. All it takes is a little push to make them do what you need.”
“Not bad, Clover,” Twilight panted. “Just what I expected from a mage who was trained by Star Swirl himself.”
“I am Groot?” the newly created plant golem looked to Clover questioningly.
“No, that will be all. Thank you, my friend. You can go now.” Clover nodded kindly towards it.
“I am groot!” The golem nodded and wandered off towards the forest.
Twilight shuddered. “I think … I have the willies?”
“That's the sign of a great magician,” Clover said, “but I think I’ve seen enough for today. You’re coming along well, but you still need to work on deception and abstract thinking. You can go.” Clover waved her staff and the protective runes vanished into smoke.
“But I didn’t even really hit you! I mean, I suppose an argument could be made about the fiery snake and all, but–”
“It took me ten years to hit Star Swirl once. The idea was never to hit me, but for me to see how you’d react to that knowledge. I can’t just give you some arbitrary test and expect to know how I need to teach you. I needed to see you pushing yourself, so I could know what I need to do to help you improve,” Clover explained. “You taught me how to teach you.”
“I … did?”
“Most certainly.”
A disembodied laughter filled the room, along with the distinct scent of fudge and cotton candy. “My oh my, now that is what I call a real showdown. Two mighty mages, each a bearer of the power of the element of magic, each equally matched in strength and potential, but not necessarily in experience.” With a bright flash of light, their focuses were replaced with a twin set of scepters, each with a mocking effigy of their heads. Then Discord arrived with his usual flare and bowed dramatically. “Bravo, oh bravo! I really have to hand it to you, ladies. That was some of the best chaos I’ve seen in quite a long time, and that’s saying something when we’re so close to Ponyville.”
Before Discord could go much further his face was bathed in a bright light, and when it cleared, he felt very strange. Summoning a mirror, he looked into it to find that his horns where both evenly curved with no signs of the stray antler. His eyes were the same size and shape, his teeth were straight and neat. He was HIDEOUS!
Discord let loose a girlish scream at the sight. “Clover, what have you done?” He slowly began to melt. “Oh what a world, what a world! To think I could be undone by a simple organization spell!” Then he exploded before reforming behind the pair with his form just as disproportionate as ever. He chuckled as he took the two ponies into a bear hug. “Good one, Clover. I see you haven’t lost your touch.”
“Worth a shot.” Clover shrugged. “I guess we can just wait for Hammer Strike. I’m certain he’ll be taking a walk out here soon.”
“I can’t exactly help being drawn to the center of chaos in this world, now can I? I mean, after all, I am the Spirit of Chaos, as in linked directly to it?”
“Are you saying you are bound to the center of chaos, as though it were a rule? Isn’t the spirit of chaos being bound to a rule impossible?”
Discord laughed. “Ah, my dear Clover, so wise, and yet so short sighted. Since when has anything I’ve ever done make any sense?” He promptly threw a bucket of green goop on Twilight’s flank. When she had managed to clean herself off again with the cleaning spell she’d used to release Cadence, she was pleasantly surprised to find the burns on her flank totally healed.
“You never killed anyone, which made perfect sense, as you being a spirit of chaos cannot purposefully bring about order, and what's more orderly than death?”
“You mean what’s more boring than death?” Discord yawned tiredly and rolled his eyes. “Honestly, Clover, didn’t we have such fun together in that statue garden? You scraped the bird droppings off me, and I got to entertain you with my fabulous sense of humor.”
“You mean before or after you begged me to hide you when the centaur and his brother visited?” Clover asked.
“Aww, now don’t be like that, Clover. You know I was right to ask you, even if I did have to beat you in a mind game before you agreed.” He sighed and snapped his fingers as the scepters returned to focuses again. “Some people just don’t know how to take a joke nowadays.” He tutted chidingly. “Anyways, I just wanted to stop by to let you know Pinkie Pie’s going to be coming soon for a big announcement. You might want to be ready for her. Ta-ta.” He grinned as he ate his own tail until he disappeared in a flash of light.
“Come on, Twilight,” Clover growled. “Let's get some food. You used up a lot of mana back there, and it’s important to stay charged.”
“You don’t have to tell me twice,” Twilight agreed as her stomach rumbled. “I think after that, I’ll need a little time for meditation.
“I see Zecora trained you well,” Clover said, half smiling.
“Yeah. I guess she did. Wait, how did you find out about that?”
Clover just chuckled as they walked along. “Every mare has her secrets, Twilight.”
Extended Holiday Ch: 99 The Long Trail’s Midpoint Act 15
Discord’s prophecy turned out true as, later that afternoon, Pinkie Pie appeared at New Unity. Necessary parties had been put off until the only option was for Pinkie to take all the party-worthy reasons of the last few months and condense them into one super amazing party extravaganza, which she explained in a full-on broadway musical number complete with prepared props and backgrounds, extras, and pyrotechnics.
Having finished her invites and press-ganged two thirds of Ponyville’s population into helping, the pink Pony had somehow produced a tent large enough to cover five blocks, and hadn’t been seen within the last two days. Finally, the time for the party had arrived. Grif, Vital Spark, Pensword, and Hammer Strike found themselves standing in Ponyville surrounded by their families, friends, and fiancé in Hammer Strike’s case. Oh, and then there was the matter of the small addition of approximately 75% of New Unity’s active staff and population, most of the Bladefeather clan, and nearly half of Ponyville looking up at possibly the biggest banner any of them had ever seen.
“That is, without a shadow of a doubt, the largest banner I have ever seen,” Grif stated as he looked up at the brightly painted monstrosity.
“Well, at least she knows how to really set up a surprise?” Vital Spark said.
“Reminds me of Unity Day back at training,” Pensword said with a smile as fond memories of a white Pegasus with a blond poofy mane flooded his mind.
“That is a lot of events missed in a few months…” Hammer Strike commented as he looked to the banner.
“I guess we should go inside?” Grif asked, somewhat unsure. It felt kind of foreboding.
“Of course you should, silly! The whole party’s for all of you!” Pinkie said as she suddenly appeared from behind. “And that includes you, and you, and you, and you, oh, and especially you!” she said as she continued to randomly pop up behind various Gryphons and Ponies before leaving behind a little treat for them to enjoy before the main event.
Pensword shook his head and smiled as he entered the tent. He was very happy that this was time to celebrate and just relax. This party was going to be amazing, and he would enjoy spending time with his friends in such a casual setting. Faust knew they deserved it.
In a sudden flash of light, the tent disappeared to reveal stall after stall lining the streets with sweet treats, confections, savory park foods, carnival games, tables, grills, and lots and lots of cake.
“I now proclaim this party officially started!” Pinkie cheered as she fired off her confetti cannon.
“Well, I see some Thestrals treats. I am going to go there first. I’ll meet you all later,” Pensword said. His mouth watered as he smelled the roasted fruit bats on a stick. “And Moony, do not pull….” he paused as he realized he had gone back in time in his head. “Just don’t go pulling pranks.”
He got kissed by Lunar Fang for using a contraction before he whispered into Lunar Fang’s ear, and she returned, both barely audible.
“Well, girls, shall we see what's on the menu?” Grif asked, turning to Shrial and Avalon.
“I think we can live with that,” Avalon said. Shrial agreed.
“So…” Hammer Strike started. “Uh, what now?”
“We have fun, of course,” Rarity said with a sly smile. “You know, that mysterious thing that somehow makes you laugh and smile, so you can work those muscles you hardly ever use?”
“I don’t know. That sounds pretty challenging,” Hammer Strike replied with a smile.
“Shall we see if you’re up to the test?”
“We shall.”
“I don’t know about you guys, but I think I’m going to try my hoof at the shooting gallery. I love me some good target practice,” Vital said.
For the next two hours the many guests proceeded to enjoy the food, music, games and other such party activities in fine spirits. They probably would have kept on doing so had discord not suddenly popped into existence out of a large vanilla pudding, scaring several Ponies half to death.
“Hel–lo, everypony!” He threw his hands into the air and a series of streamers and confetti rained down. “That’s right, the life of the party’s arrived. It’s me, Discord!” He grinned as several miniature Discords proceeded to crow on their trumpets and a random applause sounded out of nowhere. He bowed. “Oh, thank you so much. You’re far too kind.” The applause continued, and he started to tear up. “Oh, you love me. You really love me!”
“I hope you have a good reason for that, Discord,” Hammer Strike commented as he quietly looked to said pudding.
Discord froze in mid-air before shattering onto the floor. The fragment of his mouth spoke hurriedly. “You know, we’re not in New Unity. I haven’t broken any of your rules.” In a flash of white light, he appeared above the trembling Ponies and proceeded to eat some cotton candy cloud. “Anyways, I came here because I have a message for those humans. As it turns out, I do have a way to finally get them back home. It won’t be easy, mind you, but for such … dear friends, I’ve been able to make it safe and foolproof. I hope you’re happy.” He harrumphed as he daintily drank some chocolate rain from beneath said cloud.
Hammer Strike couldn’t find anything to say at that. He looked around, mentally marking where Vital, Grif, and Pensword were before he finally managed to swallow his anger and pride to say something he never thought he would ever be telling the Draconequus. “Thank you, Discord. I will alert the others.”
Discord’s jaw dropped, quite literally. “That’s it? No threats? No trying to beat me up? You’re just going to … thank me?”
“I mean, do you want me to threaten you, possibly try to beat you up?” Hammer Strike asked.
“I’m perfectly fine, thank you,” Discord said as he turned away. Then he gasped and smiled. “Is that Fluttershy I see over there? Oh, goody. I can’t wait to show her how to win at ring toss.”
Pensword waited for Discord to leave before walking over to Hammer Strike. “Did I hear correctly? That he… can send the humans home?” He shook his head, tossing his mane. “We’ll need to talk to him later, in private. I want to know just what it is he needs to do. He is a being of chaos, after all, so there has to be some catch to this.”
Hammer Strike didn’t respond as he stared off into the distance, thinking to himself.
Pensword nodded his head. “If you need to talk...” He trailed off, feeling like he was going to cause more problems if he continued, so he smiled, nodded his head, and turned back towards the table where he and his family had been eating before Discord popped in. Moon River was peeking into her own pudding cup, as if she were looking for her own surprise. This caused Pensword, Lunar Fang, and Fox Feather to suppress their chuckles, feeling worried about what she would do when there was no surprise.
“OVER EASY, CADET!”
Pensword was in mid bite when he heard the shout. Years of training and history caused him to bolt upright and stand at attention as he dropped his food and stared right ahead.
The voice giggled. “Pensword, you know you don’t have to be that way with me. I’m not even physically here, silly.”
“You are here for me,” Pensword replied. He kept staring ahead. “You know the training,” he spoke. He was scared to break it, because if he did it in the past, he was sure to get a lecture from Sore Wing.
“Pensword, you’re my superior now, remember?” Supreme Sunrise said pointedly as she walked in front of him. “You have been since Celestia promoted you.”
She saw that he was smiling, and she realized he was doing this not because of instinct, well, it was the first instant, but the reason why he kept it was because of the fond memories he had with this situation.
“It's good to see you again, Commandant. May I hazard you are checking on one of your descendants?” He could feel the stares from the other Ponies, but he didn’t care. Surprise had visited him in public, and he would give her the attention. “Just mulling over some things that you should know, having crossed over, but also trying to think of how to comfort my daughter when nothing happens with her pudding cup.”
“Oh, I already planned for that one.” Surprise giggled as she pointed to the cup, where Moon River cooed in delight as she pulled out a miniature limited edition Grif Grafson Avatar Ogres and Oubliettes figurine, complete with miniature crossbow and magical projectile projection with the assistance of a tiny mana crystal embedded at its base.
Pensword paused and stared. “Pinkie logic. Bigger things come from smaller things.”
“How is my granddaughter, anyways?”
“She…” Pensword paused as he raised a wing, then juddered to a stop. He slowly lowered it, opened a mouth, closed it. “I am not going to question that type of phrasing, but to answer your question, she is doing well, and she is having fun.”
“Have you seen her family? What other grandma could possibly teach her how to laugh.”
“Actually I have never seen her family,” Pensword replied. “I heard a few comments, but nothing I can put my hoof on.”
“Doesn’t surprise me.” She shook her head sadly. “Igneous is one of the biggest sticks in the mud Faust ever made. I honestly don’t know where I went wrong with them.” She sighed, then she spotted Hammer Strike and gasped. “Hiya, Strikey!” She waved her hoof back and forth.
Pensword’s eyes widened as he saw one ear and then the other twitch in a searching pattern. He gawked at Hammer Strike as he cocked his head softly, and his eyes roved about.
“Ooh, ooh, ooh, he can hear me? Awesome! I’m gonna tell him every pun I know!”
“I’d rather you not. Last time a Pony told any puns around him…. Well, that was a thousand years ago. They never really found the body, and I never saw their ghost. But try jumping…. And talking. I want to see this.”
Commandant Supreme Sunrise proceeded to perform a hopping skip almost exactly like Pinkie Pie’s, only she elongated it with the use of her wings. She then proceeded to recite the entire revised military manual from page one, including the addendum and various charts and graphing information.
Hammer Strike kept looking around himself, ears still twitching as he looked for the source of whatever he was hearing. After a moment, he shook his head and placed a hoof on the side of his head. His expression looked almost like he was dealing with a headache.
Pinkie Pie popped up and started hopping around him, following Surprise in perfect synchronization. “Heya, Strikey! I see you met Granny Pie.” She giggled.
“What?” Hammer Strike asked. “Who are you talking about?”
“Granny. She’s right here! You know, the one who helped me to deal with my fears all those years ago?” She gasped. “That’s right, you weren’t here for that. Let me tell you all about it!” Out of nowhere, a swelling music began to build from the thin air.
“Oh no, she isn’t, is she?” Twilight asked from across the street.
“When I was a little filly, and the sun was going down …”
“She is,” Rarity giggled.
What followed was an exact repeat of the very song that had started the whole montage of musical numbers that followed in their strange and wonderful relationships.
“I haven’t felt this confused in years. I’m hearing music, and what sounds like a hundred voices whispering all around me,” Hammer answered as he placed his hoof once again on his head.
“Oh, that’s cause you’re hearing all the spirits and the whispers from the other side. That, and Granny Pie is kinda like me, but not totally like me. She’s the one who gave me gummy in the first place.” Then Pinkie giggled.
“I don’t hear the dead. So that’s one problem in that statement. Hearing and seeing the dead is what Pensword can do, though I can see Death,” he replied at the end, faintly muttering something about time afterwards.
“Seeing Death is still a big deal in our culture, so I guess you are picking other things up. If you start seeing Ponies who are not there, come talk to me, okay?” Pensword was smiling, but in his head, he was worried. He could only hear the music and two voices.
“Well, I got two you can’t see, but Death sure seems to enjoy avoiding at least one of them,” Hammer replied after a moment.
“Yeah, Chance. Never met him, but Death was in my office for a while, so I am guessing the other is one he likes to avoid?” He shook his head. This conversation felt surreal. “Well, uh, can I tell him where you are, Commandant?”
“Is she on my back?” Hammer Strike questioned.
“Yup!” Pinkie giggled again. “That was a good one, Granny!”
Hammer Strike shuddered. “That is the oddest thing to hear, still. Countless voices just whispering a language I can’t understand…”
Pinkie promptly smacked him on the back of his head. “I told you not to listen to those!”
“Well it’s not my fault I’m hearing it every time she speaks!”
Pinkie frowned and looked at Hammer Strike’s back. “Granny, I think you need to stop.” Her lip was wobbling, and tears stood in her eyes as her mane began to deflate.
“You can come by and visit later if you want,” Pensword spoke quickly in hopes of leaving it open to talk to her again.
Commandant Supreme Sunrise turned to face her granddaughter. “He needs to have a talk with Gummy one on one.”
“Who talks to Gummy?” Pensword asked in confusion.
“Are you sure, Granny?” Pinkie asked.
Supreme Sunrise nodded. “Love you, dear. I’ll leave old Strikey here be for now.” She dismounted from Hammer Strike and yelled at the top of her lungs, “Hey, Death!”
“You know you don’t have to shout, right?” Death said, rubbing his skeletal head as he appeared.
“Who’s yelling?” Hammer Strike asked. “Is it Pinkie’s grandmother? I’ll assume it is, due to what I’m hearing.”
“Yeah, Granny’s gonna have to go for a bit. She asked Death to take her home for a while,” Pinkie said sadly.
Pensword looked at Pinkie. “I am worried. This is the first time you and I know what is going on, and not another living Pony knows.”
“I’ve heard that whispering only two times before, one of which isn’t the best of times in my life, if you understand what I mean,” Hammer Strike sighed.
Pensword shuddered.
“Granny said you need to meet with Gummy.”
“...Gummy, your pet alligator?” Hammer Strike questioned.
“Yeah. He’s actually really, really smart! Like, super smart! Like super duper genius world-breaking mind-blowing smart!”
“...Okay?”
“He taught me a lot more than Granny did.”
Pensword gave Pinkie Pie a blank look as he tried to digest what she had just said.
“So do you think you can have something like this ready before we go?” Grif looked at Rarity, who was scanning over the crudely drawn image of a hiking backpack Grif had provided her with.
“I take it you want me to design this for Taze?” she asked.
“Rarity, you're not thick, and we’re alone. Drop the act,” Grif said bluntly.
“Not while we’re here at the party, Grif. If those nobles are willing to pay to have my Hammer Strike assassinated, then you can bet they’re willing to send spies as well.”
“Okay then,” Grif sighed. “Taze, as it turns out, was a bit of a scholar back home. He left some books that were quite valuable to him behind, and he wants to be able to retrieve them on this trip. He’s hoping, if you can make this, that Twilight will be able to enchant it to be larger on the inside. Then he’ll be able to carry everything he wants to take back with him. The thing is, enchantments take time, so the success or failure of this plan depends on you.”
“Well, it certainly seems feasible. We have a few hiking packs here in Equestria for the adventurous type. I suppose I’d just have to modify the basic design to accommodate his new bipedal measurements. When did you say they were going home again?”
“I think it was a week,” Grif said. “Discord wasn’t very specific, but according to Twilight, it will take a solid two days to get the enchanting done.”
“Grif, I am the creme de le creme of the fashionistas. I could have this order ready for you in twenty four hours if you really needed a rush job.”
“And you actually have some rougher material to make it from? No offense, but silk and such isn’t going to work for this.”
“Grif, I know what a mountaineering bag looks like. I did have to climb a mountain to confront a dragon, after all.”
“Not your best bragging point,” Grif said, chuckling.
Rarity blushed. “That is quite beside the point, thank you very much!” she harrumphed. “Do you want that bag or don’t you?”
“Thanks, Rarity,” Grif said with a chuckle. “I’ll see if Taze can get you a fashion magazine or something from his world. Apparently it’s a big thing there, because they wear clothes all the time.”
Rarity’s eyes turned to stars. “All the time?”
“Yes. Apparently public nudity is considered indecent or something, so they’ve been working on clothing designs for thousands of years.”
“Well, that explains a few things,” Rarity said with a blush.
“Anyway, I should find the girls. Thanks again, Rarity,” Grif said as he got up to leave.
“Anytime, darling, any time. Oh, and do let me know what the cubs’ measurements are when they’re born, won’t you? I have a few ideas I’d like to try for my latest line.”
“I’ll make sure you're one of the first to know, Rarity.” Grif chuckled. “Been getting a lot of Gryphon business?”
“Not too much, I’m afraid. Most of your clan still prefer their armor. Though I do have one or two tailors that are looking for some pointers. I’m considering adding them on to teach them what I can, but I’ll need to run a proper evaluation first.”
“I’m sure once everyone realizes they’re no longer in danger all the time, some of the Gryphonesses will be looking into something easier to wear.” Grif winked at her. “Later, Rarity,” he said before walking away.
“What a nice boy.” She smiled as she made her way towards the main square of the event. Hammer Strike would probably be there.
“Twilight, this is the fifteenth experiment. Can’t we please take a break? My horn is killing me,” Vital Spark said.
Moon River giggled from her perch on his head as she watched Vital and Twilight play their games. She had been entrusted to Vital’s care while Pensword and Lunar Fang hunted for Fox Feather. The sound of rabble rousing in the distance triggered a distinct fear in them as they recalled Pinkie mentioning some of the Demos’ special brew had been donated to the event.
“Just one more experiment,” Twilight said as she jotted extensively on her clipboard.
“Twilight, we already know I’m stronger than a baby Unicorn, but I’m still nowhere near as experienced as a mage my age should be.”
“It’s still spectacular, though. Just think about it. You used to be a completely separate species, and yet now you’re handling magic like you were born with it. True, it’s not quite perfect, but I’m sure with more practice, you could get into a real magical duel and actually stand a chance of winning.”
“Gee. Thanks,” he said unenthusiastically. Moon River giggled as she flapped her wings over his eyes and back again. “So if it’s so spectacular, why do you need me to go again?”
“For the sake of confirmation of results.”
“Twilight, you’ve had me win at the same game fifteen times using magic to replicate the same results. I’m pretty sure that should satisfy scientific theory. Can’t I just have a little fun instead?”
“You’re not having fun?”
“Twilight, I know you mean well, but sometimes you let yourself get a little too excited for experiments and the like. I’m going to be leaving soon anyways, and I know you want to make sure you can understand as much as possible about what happened and why, but honestly, at this point, do you think maybe we could just play for the sake of having fun for a bit instead?”
“But ... but I …”
“Twilight, please.”
“He’s got a point, Sugarcube,” Applejack said as she approached from behind. “If he don’t got much time left in Ponyville, we should be tryin’ ta make that time the best he’s ever had.”
Vital Spark smiled appreciatively. “Thanks, Applejack. Say, how handy are you with a bow?”
“Ah’m a fair enough shot, ah reckon. Why d’you ask?”
“Oh, no reason. Just looking to have some good old fashioned sharpshooting fun. Care to join us on the range? I think young Moon River deserves a new plush toy, and I’d like to be the one to win it for her.”
“Aww, now isn’t that sweet?” Applejack walked up and ticked Moon River under the chin before booping her on the nose. “Uncle Vital Spark’s gonna take right good care of you, young’un.” Then she turned back to Twilight. “Well, what’re y’all waitin’ for? Let’s go!”
Vital grinned. “Race ya!”
“You’re on!”
Twilight sighed as she looked at her research notes, then looked back at her friends as they prepped for the race. Finally, in an action that must have taken a monumental feat of will, she tossed the notes aside and raced to join them on the starting line.
“Is it too late for me to join in?”
“Now we’re talkin’,” Applejack cheered. “On your mark, get set, yeehaw!”
The stand in question was a shooting gallery with the targets covered by a bright red curtain. Several small crossbows lay on the counter, each only a few feet long with a low tension string and a small lever to allow it to be pulled back easily. The bottom held a large hollow box-like section full of bolts topped with a suction cup and a number. A sign explained how the game worked. Each crossbow held a different numbered set of arrows. When everyone was ready, the Pony manning the station would press a button, and the curtain would rise. Targets would move across the field, and the object was to hit the most targets in the next three minutes. At the end, the arrows would be collected and counted, and the one with the most hits would win and claim their prize.
“You ready up there, Moon River?” Vital asked as he handed her a crossbow. Moon River cooed happily as she primed it for launch. Twilight, Applejack, and he did the same. Somewhere nearby, a Pony accidentally bumped a gramophone that had been waiting to be used, and a familiar piece of music began to play. When they looked back, Moon River was wearing a wide-brimmed hat with the brim tilted downwards, and somewhere, somewhen, somehow, she was wearing a dusty poncho.
Pensword was looking for Fox Feather, but he couldn’t help but freeze as his ears perked to the electric guitar twang. His eyes widened before his mouth broke into a creepy smile before broadening into a grin. He then proceeded to make his way towards the booth, staying put to watch this contest of the princess, the cowpony, the mage, and his daughter.
Behind the trio, two tumbleweeds blew down the street as the music kept playing. The second time the duck calls sounded with the heavy background of stallions lining up behind to chant with the song. All the spectators jerked their heads up and the sounds of clangs and dings from the arcade game sounded loud and noisy. No one could tell who fired first, as the flurry of bolts crashed into their targets.
At last, the flurry settled, and the song came to an end.
“All right, time to tally. Who won?” Vital Spark asked the stall owner.
The Stall owner looked to the colored feathers and the numbers on the shafts. “Okay, first off, we got from the least. My apologies, your highness, but you only got five bolts on the board. Next runner up is our white unicorn friend with a total of ten. Miss Applejack, I believe you beat your old record by with a whopping sixteen.” He smiled as he looked to the colored crossbows before the straw he had in his mouth hung limply in his mouth as he noticed who was holding the crossbow. The others slowly turned to look at Moon River. “T ... twenty.” he spoke. “She missed...” he saw Applejack eyeing his flank. “Okay, that is where the twenty first bolt went.”
Moon River had her hat tilted so low only one eye was visible as she lifted her crossbow to her face. It was at this point the others realized for some reason the end was smoking. With a devil-may-cry air to her demeanor, she blew the smoke away. “Jackpot”
Almost like it was a magic summoning spell, Pensword and Lunar Fang had appeared at her side, crushing Vital Spark beneath their hooves before they seized Moon River and launched into the air. “Her first Word! Her first word!” they cheered.
“Uh…” One of the construction workers began. “Didn’t she say Daddy and Mommy?”
“Thestrals consider that the babble of foals or the hissing. Parents can hear words that may or may not be words, but this, this we can tell. This is her first fully spoken Equestrian word,” Lunar Fang crowed.
Pensword was just beaming and grinning with pride at his daughter. He realized something. “Do you want to name your crossbow?” he asked like a father asking their daughter what to name a puppy, which unnerved a few ponies.
“Jackpot,” she said with conviction. “Jackpot!” She giggled as she hugged the little crossbow to her chest.
“Can Daddy play with you?” Pensword asked as he looked at his daughter with a grin.
She cooed and jumped onto his head and he fluttered down. He picked up the blue bolts while she stuck with the yellow color. The two grinned as they aimed at the stand. The Stallion looked nervous, having never seen looks like these on two ponies before. With a snap of a wing that the vender thought meant to go, he hit the button. Buzzers and lights sounded and flashed once more, and the pair immediately began to lay into the game. Lunar Fang grinned as she watched her mate and daughter bond.
The Vender stared at the targets in disbelief. “We… we have a tie.” All twenty one bolts were sticking on the target bullseyes.
“You did awesome, Moon River. That was amazing! Good job.” He looked at the large prizes. With their skill, they’d earned three of them. Twilight was holding onto a cheap throwing dart, her prize for the numbers she hit. Vital’s prize was little better. He got a tiny wooden figurine of Celestia. Applejack’s prize was a semi-large apple pie plush toy. She grinned as she placed it on her back.
The first Prize Moon River picked was a pillow in the shape of the moon with the mare in the moon. The prize Pensword picked was a stuffed figurine the same size as him, portraying the idol from the first Daring Do book. Moon River’s final prize was a plush sword and shield set that reminded those from Earth very much of a certain green tunic-wearing boy.
She grinned as she waved to another Pony with a triforce cutiemark also carrying the same set. He was walking away from a slingshot arcade. His sister smiled alongside him as she carried a toy bow and arrow set on her back that Link had given her as his second prize from the slingshot game. All the while Epona grinned, watching her two children with pride as they made their way to the next game.
The Cutie Mark Crusaders were engaged in a heated argument that most of the Ponyville townsfolk were doing their best to ignore, lest they be the victim of the chaos that inevitably followed the trio.
“Well,” Dinky began, “I think…”
“I Know!” Scootaloo cried out. “We can talk to Hammer Strike about what we could do for cutie mark ideas. This is a brainstorming session, after all.”
“That’s a great idea!” Applebloom agreed enthusiastically. “With how smart and strong he is, he’s sure to have some ideas we can try!” With a cheer, the group of fillies left the table and raced from their end of the grounds in search of the smith. In a matter of minutes, they had him surrounded in a manner that unnerved a few of the townsfolk. They slowly began to drift away from him, only too aware of just how volatile a meeting of this sort could be.
“I take it you five have something you wish to discuss?” Hammer Strike asked as he looked over his shoulder.
“I still say we should have asked Grif,” Sweetie Belle muttered.
Dinky ignored the comment. “What my colleagues are wondering is, well, we’re out gathering ut ideas for the next few months of crusading, and, well, we were wondering if you might have any ideas for us to try.”
Hammer Strike noticed Caramel signing rapidly with her forehooves to cut that possibility.
“I’d offer ideas, but I haven’t a clue on what you’ve all done in the amount of time you’ve been crusading,” Hammer Strike replied.
Sweetie Belle jumped forward, shouting, before Applebloom could fully pull a scroll from her saddle bag. “Just throw out ideas, and before you say anything, we already tried list making for a cutie mark.”
“That oddly sounds like it was a suggestion from Twilight.”
“It was,” Dinky responded happily.
“Spike suggested comic book writers,” Scootaloo added. “That got boring fast, but we did make one issue.”
“Twilight has it locked up for some reason,” Applebloom responded with dejection.
Meanwhile in another part of the fair, Twilight whacked spike with a wing.
“Twilight, what was that for?”
“For the CMC comic book. You were lucky Luna was able to contain it.” She shuddered. “And all my magic books were still on the shelf. How did they manage it?”
“I thought it was cool,” Spike spoke up, before wilting. “Well, after the scary stuff was over, that is.”
Hammer Strike hummed for a moment. “Have you tried designing? Perhaps making blueprints for concepts that come to mind?”
“I do that all the time,” Applebloom responded. “I did it for the clubhouse, for scoots’ new wagon, a stage.” She frowned. “Maybe we could do a play zone for New Unity? A playground?”
Hammer Strike chuckled faintly. “Perhaps some day later down the line. But it seems like something you can work on again.”
Sweetie Belle wrote down the idea on the parchment. “Oh, and girls, we need to capture Pipsqueek to make him a member, too,” she reminded as she read over a few of the previous goals on the list.
“Later,” Scootaloo said poinedly. “Oh! I just had a great idea! We could try throwing heavy metal objects over long distances.” Sweetie Belle jotted that down as well. “Do you have anything we can throw around?” Scootaloo asked Hammer Strike.
Hammer Strike pat his coat a few times, ignoring the knives. “I don’t have anything on me that would be a good thing to pass around.”
“Okay. Maybe we can ask one of the venders. Maybe a pie plate?” Dinky muttered with a grin.
“Only if it’s a frisbee pie dish. Those are the best to throw around,” Button replied with a grin.
“Why do I have a feeling someone is going to be cleaning up a mess sometime in the next … fifteen minutes?” Hammer Strike muttered to himself.
“Well, bye Mister Strike,” Dinky replied as the others raced off. “I’m off to keep time in check.” She winked.
Grif was walking down the stalls with a large scoop of ice cream on a cone, smiling as he was about to take a bite, when a pie tin hit him in the side of the head. The impact caused him to sway for a minute, but he pushed past it to focus on the most important thing, keeping his ice cream from falling. Once he was sure of its safety, he picked up the offending pie tin and proceeded to scan around for where this poorly thought out assassination attempt had come from.
Dinky was racing up to him. “I am so sorry. I was trying to throw to Scootaloo, but I misjudged the trajectory, and due to some lumps from previous throwings, it wasn’t as aerodynamic as I thought it would be.” She blushed while looking cute for a tiny Time Lord. “Can we have our frisbee back?”
Grif looked at the pie tin for a moment, then at dinky. He drew a knife and proceeded to shave off the lip on the rim of the pie dish before running a claw around the inside, the tin was forced to mold into more rounded edges. He then looked down at dinky.
“Grab it hoof in the rim, curve it back when you throw, and let it spin. Make the wind do the work for you, and you’ll find it’s a lot easier to hit.”
“Thanks!” Dinky grinned. “You might tell Chesire about this sport. She’d probably like it,” she said with a smirk as she turned around and raced away to meet back up with what was rapidly turning into a lot more then just four foals. Regrettably, as Dinky threw the pie tin, it flew so well that it collided with a cask of tree sap. it wobbled, then it dropped, then it burst open, washing the four with a tidal wave of syrup.
“Why is it always the tree sap with those four?” Grif questioned to himself.
Rarity sighed as she heard Grif’s question and started forward as she pulled a soap bar from a saddle bag. “If we could answer that, we would all be a little healthier.”
“Pensword, I was hoping I’d bump into you while I was here,” Cheerilee said happily as she passed a drink over to Fox Feather, who was currently enjoying her fifth. “And Moon Shade, it’s always a pleasure to see you. How’s the baby?”
“Moon River is doing well. She had her first conquest, a Changeling whose horn she broke a few weeks back. He’s her nanny now.” She grinned. “My husband told me about the letter, and I’d positively love to teach your students about Thestral culture and traditions.”
Pensword nodded. “I do apologize that I will not be talking about culture, but, you see, I am, as I stated, a thousand years removed.” He laughed. “It would be like asking Clover the Clever to talk about Unicorns. I do not want to give false information about today’s generation. That being said, I will be more then willing to tell you about Thestral Culture from a thousand years ago. Does that sound agreeable with you?”
“Pensword, that would be wonderful. You and your wife could easily tie the two lessons together. I know a lot of today’s culture is based on past traditions, and, if my research is correct, you do your best to keep those traditions and legends alive for the next generation to enjoy.”
“If you don’t mind my asking, Miss Cheerilee, why are you serving drinks?” Moonshade asked.
Cheerilee sighed. “A favor for my sister. She was understaffed today, so I agreed to help her out just this once, since this is a celebration for you, Hammer Strike, and the humans, among other things.”
“Well I think it very noble of you to do so,” Pensword spoke up. “I also agree. That sounds like an amazing plan. Could we have perhaps two days to go over it all? After all, you are going to be the one making the rules. You get to pick how much time we can have for this lesson. Just let us know the times we have to work with, and we’ll start on a lesson plan when we get back.”
He smiled at his wife, and she kissed him on the cheek for using a contraction. Not to be outdone, Foxfeather flew over and pecked him on the cheek before making her way back to the table. “So, are you two going to join me for a drink, or not?” she asked with a playful smirk.
Pensword looked to Cheerilee. “Do you have earl gray, or maybe some sugar cane?”
Lunar Fang snorted. “Go for some Lunar Tea, dear, if she has some. Or I’ll get some of the Dream Clan to brew some,” she said cheekily. Pensword shook his head with an amused smile on his muzzle.
“So that’s two earl grays, then?” Cheerilee asked.
“Two Earl Gray,” Pensword agreed. “I am sure my mate is going to be getting me some Lunar Tea. It’s an old habit from the Third Gryphon War.” He smiled as he waited for the cups to be delivered.
“So what have you two been doing, eh?” Fox Feather asked. “Living it up? Maybe doing something a little off the books?” She chuckled, and her face flushed as she took another swig. “That Berry’s drinks pack a punch.”
“I shall take your word for it,” Pensword answered. “As for living it up...” He shrugged. “I really cannot answer that, and I assure you, a lot of things we all do are off the books.” He slid in slyly and whispered in her ear. “Which includes you tonight.” Then he grinned.
“About time,” Fox Feather grunted. Then she kissed him full on the lips. “I was getting tired of waiting.”
“You are to enjoy that starting today. I am putting you on leave, as you have to be the temporary voice of our house while we are gone on the diplomatic trip to the humans’ world.” He couldn’t stop grinning. “Still, I have to say, I am not sure if you are acting, or really drunk. This seems a lot less of what you drank to become free tongued last time.”
“I might have shared a cup or two with the Demos.”
Pensword sighed and face hoofed. “That makes sense.” He perked up. “Thank you for the tea,” he said as Cheerilee promptly dropped the steaming cups on the table. He slowly picked up the first tea cup and took a sip. “Now that hits the spot.”
“I love you,” the two mares said in unison as each kissed him on either cheek.
Matthew was shocked and still a bit overwhelmed at this. Pensword was simply happy, and pleased that he had two mares for a herd.
“I love you girls, too.”
Vital Spark felt a distinct tingling sensation as he passed through a side alley on the way back to the food spread. He sniffed a few times, and the scent of fudge wafted into his nostrils.
“Okay, Discord, I know you’re here. You might as well show yourself.”
“And it seems my meddling sister’s influence is at work again,” Discord said as he melted out of one of the alley walls before reforming into his regular form.
“First of all, you have a sister? Secondly, I have no idea what you’re talking about. I could just tell you were distorting space by other means.” He shrugged. “Got a little help from a pair of agents from Warehouse 13.” Then he winked at the Draconequus and smirked. “I think you’d enjoy it. So much chaos.”
“Please don’t be so surprised. You already met her,” Discord said with a tired flip of the hand. “I mean, seriously, you were supposed to be the smart one.”
“You do realize there’s no evidence anywhere in my world or this one that you had a sister, right? I’m guessing you’re talking about a certain lady who lives near New Unity?”
Discord rolled his eyes and slow clapped. “Very good, Mister Spark. I’d give you the free vacation to Zebrica, but you wouldn’t have much use for that now, would you?”
“Well, given I’m going home soon, probably not,” Vital agreed. “Zecora might like it, though. I’m sure she’d love to see some of her old family and friends back there for a while.”
“But is that what you want?” Discord asked. His voice had an infuriating superiority of someone who knew something nobody else did.
“It’s what everyone else wants for me,” he said pointedly. “Say, Discord, I always wanted to ask you. Why did you pick me when you reached into our world anyways? And why my time? I’m not too angry about it anymore, and I’m willing to forgive you and all that. I just … want to understand, I guess.”
“In all honesty, it was a misunderstanding. Your friend appeared to be so savage and dangerous, I could feel the chaos just thriving off him, so when I sent my magic out, it was to find the most human person it could. Seeing as your friend was the basis for my analysis of your race, I used his mind to set the criteria along with a person who might give him pause. I guess my magic set the criteria for the most humane, rather than the most human,” he mused.
“I thought you could use your magic to basically warp reality however you chose,” Vital said with some surprise. “Isn't that the whole point of chaos? To change things?”
“If I were to tell you to pick out the bluest patch of sky right now,” Discord pointed to the clear sky, “which patch would you point to?”
“The one that’s peeking out of the sudden swarm of cotton candy clouds?”
“Very funny,” Discord said, shooing the clouds away like birds, which they indeed flapped their wings, and Vital was sure he heard a squawk. “I can alter my reality fine, but I had to reach out to another reality, and from the other side of my narrow view, I saw a world radiating chaos. Do you honestly think I could choose a specific person like that?”
“Considering you’re supposed to be ‘the Lord of Chaos,’ yes.”
“It’s not always that simple.” Discord shrugged. “I suppose it might have been fate playing her hand. She’s always such a control freak.”
“And her twin sister Destiny, I suppose?”
“No, Destiny is so sure she knows everything already, she never gets directly involved with anything.”
“I am both unsurprised and a little uneasy to hear about these new people.”
“Anyway, you should think about what this all means to you, because in the end, the choice should be your own,” Discord said pointedly.
“That doesn’t sound much like you, Discord. Don’t you usually like manipulating others to make the choices you want them to make?”
“Nonsense! I want to make sure my ‘friend’ is happy,” he said as a halo appeared over his head before he promptly removed it and bit into it like a donut. He dunked it into a cup of cocoa he conjured just for extra measure. “Besides, it’s not like anything bad could happen from you staying back home. I just want to make sure I’m not doing anything that would get certain people angry in the end.”
“I do kind of have a life back home. My family is probably worried sick. And besides that, I’ll be able to hear word from the others when they come to visit, right?”
“Oh, and is there no one you’d miss here?” Discord asked.
“Of course I’d miss people, Discord. But the real question is, who would I miss more? I’ve made some great friends here, but … friends can’t always replace your family.” He turned to look towards the party, where more than a few foals were happily enjoying the love of their mothers and fathers. “And I’ve really missed mine while I’ve been here.”
“Oh, very well. If you simply must return, I won’t stop you,” Discord said as he rolled his eyes. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to meet Fluttershy.” And with that, he exploded.
Vital Spark chuckled. “You know, Discord, I think I’m going to miss you, too.”
“Let's see,” Grif said, doing a third check as he practically stuck half his body inside the hiking pack. True to her word, Rarity had finished the bag within half a day, and Twilight had enchanted it with several space-altering spells that had been checked and double checked by Clover, making the backpack several dozen times larger on the inside without needing to worry about the weight. “Spare knife, tent, emergency kit, ration packs, several thaumic crystals in case the enchantment needs fuel, gold, and a list of things to bring back.” He winked at Shrial and Avalon as he backed out of the bag. “You think I should take anything else?”
“Maybe the kitchen sink?” Shrial suggested sardonically.
“Don’t mind her, Grif. She’s just sore because this trip is so close to her delivery date,” Avalon said pointedly.
“And he’d better be here for it,” Shrial growled back. “I want our babies to know their father the moment their eyes open for the first time.”
“I promise you I will fight an army, if need be, to be there for you,” Grif said as he walked up and kissed her forehead. “Nothing in this or any universe could mean more to me, but I’ve left a few things back at home I would like to have, things I want our children to have.” He gave her his best dashing smile. “Besides, there is plenty of non-sentient meat back there, and humans have spent lifetimes learning how to get the perfect cuts. I’ve arranged for Thalia and Gilda to split things between them while I’m gone, so there should be no need to bother either of you.”
“Always the supervisor.” Shrial smirked.
“But that’s one reason why we married him, isn’t it, Shrial?” Avalon asked.
“Oh, Winds, yes, but you’re not supposed to let him know that, Avalon.”
“Besides.” Grif walked over to Vigilance and Vengeance. “I can’t take these with me, you know. To take them off Equis would be death, so everything I am is here in this compound: my family, my friends, and my swords. If I didn’t come back to you, I’d be as good as soulless.”
“That would put a bit of a damper on our relationship.” Shrial grunted as she clutched at her belly. “I think they don’t want their daddy to go,” she chuckled.
He put a talon gently on her stomach. “Don’t worry, little ones. Daddy will be back shortly, with many wonderful things and wondrous tales to tell you.” He looked up to Shrial. “I pity anyone who’d cross you with such fearsome fighters in the waiting.”
“They’d have to get past me first.” She smiled and stole a kiss. “Don’t be too long, all right?”
“Discord predicts we’ve got three days, four at the most. I’ll be back as soon as I can.” Picking up Vigilance and Vengeance, he walked to the round table, the one he had taken as his loot from Fort Triumph, and walked around it clockwise once before placing Vengeance at the one o'clock position in honor of Lancelot, Arthur's closest knight. Then he placed Vigilance at the six o'clock position, where he always envisioned Galahad sitting at the siege parleys. “I place my swords upon the table as my oath that I will return. Until that time, let no being remove them from their places. By this very table and what it represents to me, I will return.” Grif wasn’t sure, but he swore he felt a shock as his hand left Vigilance. He could almost see a tall human next to Vengence nodding to him before vanishing.
“Be safe, Grif,” Avalon said as she embraced him. “We’ll see you again soon. I know it.”
“Hey, I’ve had the entire gryphon army thrown at me, and they ran away.” Grif chuckled. “The difference is I know exactly how the humans think. Taze is a historian, after all, and humans seem to have a habit of repeating themselves. I’ll be fine. Heck, with the approximate value of the gold I’ve got with me, I’ll be better than that. Now what shall I bring you two? Exotic chocolates? Knowledge from beyond? What will it be?”
“Surprise us,” Avalon said with a smirk.
“I always do.” He smirked back. Spreading his wings, he embraced the both of them. “I’ve got to go. The train to Canterlot leaves at noon, and Discord said it would be best to do this near his old statue pedestal. I love you girls. Be safe, and I’ll see you when I get back.”
“We’ll be waiting,” Shrial said as she leaned into the hug.
“Always,” Avalon agreed.
Vital Spark sighed as he looked at the frigid crysalis he’d managed to form over the egg with the assistance of Shawn’s thaumaturgy. It looked more like a dragon’s egg than it did a phoenix now. All those layers of ice, and the young hatchling just waiting on the inside. He felt a slight pang of regret that he wouldn’t be able to see it hatch.
“You’ll take care of it when it finally emerges, won’t you, Clover?”
“As if it were my own foal,” Clover said before stopping for a minute. “... Probably better than that.”
“Thanks. I know it’s not original, but … if it’s a girl, call it Crya. If it’s a boy, call it Cryo.”
“I’ll make sure it’s done.” She nodded.
“Then … I guess this is it, isn’t it? Should … should I leave my focus with you or take it home with me?”
“I suppose it would be strange in your world, but you should take the pearl. It’s chosen you, after all.”
“... I guess it would serve as a good reminder of my time here.” He sighed. “I just wish this didn’t have to be goodbye forever, you know?”
“Sometimes fate decides things against our wishes.” Clover sighed. “You’ll be missed, if that's any comfort.”
“It is, and it isn’t. This would be a lot easier if we had some sort of system for writing letters and the like between the worlds.”
“Well, not yet, but who knows with the future? It’s an area of study I might just look into.”
“I’d check with Shawn before we go, then. He’s the one with all of Star Swirl’s notes.”
“Are you going to be okay?” she asked after a few minutes of silence.
Vital sighed as he clicked the band and shifted back to his human form. Then he reached down and embraced Clover. “I think I will be. I’m just going to miss you all a lot. Part of me wishes I could just make a clone and link our two minds together each night so we know what’s happening in each other’s lives.” He chuckled. “And don’t even think about suggesting it. I’d rather stay myself. Just … thank you, Clover. For everything.”
“It’s been an honor,” she told him, nuzzling him gently.
“Why does it hurt so much to part ways?” he croaked as the patter of tears sounded on Clover’s back.
“The Kitsune like to say that a master and a student must walk the same path until they reach a crossroads, and then they must part, but they will always remain at the same destination. They just take different paths.”
“You know, it’s funny. I haven’t cried like this in a long time.” Conor sniffled and wiped away the tear tracks as he stood up. “I guess that means I have good memories here with all of you.”
“Then keep those close to your heart. There are too many Ponies who’ll remember me as a grouchy old mare. It would be nice to have one out there who has something different to say.”
“Well, you are kind of grouchy,” Conor said with a playful smile.
“I can also put you through several stone walls without killing you,” she said in a pleasant tone.
Conor laughed. “Thanks, Clover. I needed that.”
“Well you should be heading along now. The train leaves soon,” she noted. “I’d accompany you, but then I’d never get out of the castle without being swarmed by the nobility.”
“And there’s where being able to be human comes in handy.” He sighed. “I guess I’ll see you around. At least, I hope I will.”
“Safe journeys, my friend.”
“Thank you.” He bowed and then saluted to the egg. “You be good now, you hear?” he told it, then turned to grab his luggage and removed the pearl from his focus. “Goodbye, Clover.” And then he was gone, though his many scrolls and reference guides to magic remained.
Clover turned to her alchemy table and ground her pestle calmly into the mortar. No one was there to witness the tears dotting her workbench.
Rarity looked at Hammer Strike as he sat at his desk. “What do you mean I can’t go?” She looked at him with narrowed eyes. “I told you I would go with you on your adventures from now on, and I meant it.”
“This isn’t much of an adventure, Rarity. This is more of a … goodbye, I guess.”
“And part of that is seeing your parents. Are you not going to introduce them to your fiancé?”
“I would love to, but there are too many problems that I just can’t risk. If we do more than one trip back, then you are free to come with on the second one, but this one…. I know there’s going to just be nothing but problems.” Hammer Strike frowned.
“I Guess.” Rarity deflated as she conceded to Hammer Strike’s logic. “But I want pictures, darling. And I’m holding you to that second trip promise.”
“I’ll see to it, if I can. The only reason this trip is going to be a problem is because, from what I’ve learned from Conor, we’ve been gone over two years. They don’t drop cases until seven, meaning when we’re found–Not if, but when, there is going to be a lot of … I would guess complications from the US government. Most likely trying to question us as to what happened.”
“I understand that,” Rarity responded. “Regardless, I know you’ll come back just fine. It’s not like they can keep you there. And besides that, if they tired, I’d just cut through them all to find you, including Discord, if I have to.” She smiled. “You’d just better hold to that promise.”
Hammer Strike chuckled. “I will. But speaking of the other world, I don’t have much packing to do, honestly, so… I’ve got nothing but free time.”
“Maybe we could go for a walk, and you can show me what you have planned for the expansions? I’ve already seen the basic markings, but I don’t really know the specifics yet. Oh, and you wouldn’t happen to have a little extra room in those bags for a couple more things, would you, dear? It won't be much.”
“Sure.”
“Wonderful,” she cheered, then hovered a sun umbrella from its place by the door. “Ready for our walk?”
Hammer Strike stood from his desk with a gentle smile. “Certainly.”
Pensword stood in the storage barn looking over last minute additions and checklists. Two Pony transport carts stood at the ready, fully stocked. They reminded Matthew of the smaller handcarts humans had used to cross the plains on Earth as they journeyed west, only instead of a handlebar, this cart had a harness. He ran over the list once more as he checked the inventory: books, translation parchments and reference guides, pictures, and smaller forms of military tools for his family to display in their home. Matthew was confused at that last one, since his family wasn’t medieval, but to Pensword, this was tradition, and if Equestrians ever came to Earth, then by Hurricanes blade, they would know who the Conners were.
He also included fantasy books, bestiaries, and many a journal. There were gems and gold coins for both his family and the United States government to act as a gift and sign of good will between nations.
He checked one more time in his cart to check on his experimental board game. He wanted to see how humans would handle it, and he figured it would be a good way to tease some of Matthew’s relatives. Matthew heartily agreed. He looked over Lunar Fang’s cart and smiled at the space they had made to bring Moon River with them.
“All packed and ready, I see.” There was a blue flash as Luna appeared nearby.
“That is correct, including a list of what it is I will be bringing back when I return from Earth,” Pensword replied.
“I’ve finished the documents for the Lunar Court. I took the liberty of dropping them off, as I don’t know how much time we’ll have to see you before you leave,” Luna explained as she floated several scrolls towards one of the carts.
“Thank you. I just hope that the transfer of scrolls will go smoothly. I am ready, however, in case it does not.”
“Cadence will meet you at the palace gates in order to take custody of Moon River until your return,” Luna said.
“Wait, uh, excuse me?” Pensword asked in confusion. “Can you please say that again, Chieftess?”
“Cadence has managed to arrange to look after your daughter on this trip,” Luna repeated. “I figured you would be comforted knowing it was her, and not a random noble.”
“But… but…. She has to meet her grand… grand…” He struggled for a moment before the light of discovery filled his eyes. “Oh, Grandparents. I was hoping she could meet them.”
Luna shook her head. “She is currently your only heir, and betrothed to the Crystal House. The laws regarding this matter are absolute. She must stay within Equestria in case something should happen.”
Pensword frowned. A war waged in his eyes. “Then,” Pensword grated out as he forced control. “When we arrive in Canterlot, may I have a royal writ that denotes special protection for my family in case they are threatened? Because if they cannot see their grand foal now… then I want them to live to see one of them.”
“Of course, Pensword,” Luna said. “I’ve already written up the proclamation, just in case you might have asked for something like this.”
Pensword sighed. “Thank you, Luna. Do you wish to have any gifts given to Earth?”
“There are none that I can think of,” she said, “only that you arrive safely and return to us in similar condition.”
“I shall do my best to follow that request,” Pensword responded.
Pensword was surprised to find Matthew taking more control as he looked out the window at the passing countryside. He smiled as he looked to his daughter. Moon River was laughing as she played with her plush toys and looked out the window. Lunar Fang was snapping last minute pictures of the two of them looking out the window as they twitched their ears at the sound of the train’s whistle and the click clack of the tracks.
Shawn sat by himself in the big car’s corner, lost in thought. It had been so long that he had nearly forgotten his own parents, but he could still faintly remember their names and faces. He sighed and his eyes drifted to the window, eyeing the landscape as it changed from forest to plains and grasslands.
Taze shifted his arms and cracked his neck, feeling the bones pop in place as he took in his human body after a long time of misuse. He was taller than he remembered, and more buff, but having seen himself in the reflection of the window, he was shocked to find himself nearly a different person. His blue eyes were sharp and bird-like, and his nose was pointed and larger than he remembered or liked. His hair had gone from dirty blond to black with dark green tips that looked like he’d dyed it. He’d had to scrounge an emery board because his fingernails were long and sharpened to a point when he first took human form, and he still had trouble adjusting to his longer finger bones. Every few minutes he found himself flexing his shoulder blades, trying to feel the familiar movement of his wings.
“This body feels wrong,” he grumbled, mostly to himself.
“Well, considering how long it’s been since you were a Gryphon, it does make sense,” Conor said pointedly. While his body had gained more definition from his time with the guard, and he had been able to lose a great deal of body fat, that was about the most impact his time in Equestria had had on his human form.
“Hang on, we’re going to brake soon,” Pensword’s voice rang through the car.
“I don't thin-” Taze was cut off as he was thrown off his feet as the train began to stop. “Ow.”
“Need a hand?” Conor offered as he crouched down to offer his arm.
“Thanks,” he said, taking the arm and getting to his feet. “I remember being a lot more sturdy on my feet before.”
“You should have listened. I am the train whisperer,” Pensword said smugly as he clopped to their sides, only to receive a familiar whack from Lunar Fang, and then Moon River, who, of course, was imitating her mommy. “I don’t care,” Pensword said with a beatific smile. “I got to tease them for once. Come along. I’d rather not have them wait too long.” They exited onto the familiar underground station. “Also, Conor, do not lose that medallion around your neck. It is your access badge for this area of the Castle.”
“Huh, never got to see this part of Canterlot in the show,” he commented casually.
“Good thing you are before we leave then,” Taze noted.
“Show?” Pensword asked in confusion. “What do you mean show?”
“Ask Matthew, Pensword.”
“But he is confused as well.”
“My little pony, my little pony, la la la la–” Taze sung a few bars.
It was a good thing no other ponies were around as Pensword actually tripped, fell flat on his muzzle, and blinked five times before quickly jumping to his hooves “Add that to the list, Lunar Fang. We are getting every episode we can to see just what Earth knows about us,” he said shakily.
“It’s not that bad, you know, Pensword. And based on what I’ve seen here in the real Equestria, you’ll only see a few similarities, namely in the more ridiculous happenings around Ponyville and Canterlot,” Conor assured him.
“Still, if there are some lies or misconceptions, I could keep going.” He smiled. Lunar Fang looked at her husband as one eye twitched. “Still, thank you for telling me about this.”
“What my husband is trying to say is, he wants to mislead any leaders on Earth as much as possible to give us time to give a proper response to what we find,” she said cooly. A small vein throbbed on the side of her head. “It will also give him time to inform me of something he should have a long time ago.”
“I’m … guessing we should give them some space,” Conor said.
“Come on, guys, we need to get this moving,” Taze said as he shouldered his pack and headed for the castle.
“Weren’t we supposed to wait for the guards?” Conor asked.
“What if there was an old mare crossing the street, and they’re busy for hours?” Taze said with a snicker.
“I’m sure we can get by without an armed escort,” Shawn commented as he stepped forward.
“Well, I guess that’s that, then. I’m guessing we don’t want to keep Discord waiting for too long anyways. Knowing him, he’s liable to cause a bit of chaos just to help pass the time,” Conor pointed out.
“Right, well, if you would follow me, we can go the direct route, which will be through some of the beautiful hallways, and Conor can see some of the treasures of the palace.” Pensword grinned.
“And how do you know the floor?” Lunar Fang asked.
“I never wanted to be like Matthew and get lost during my first visit to the castle.” Pensword shrugged. “Shall we continue?”
“Do lets,” Conor said with just a hint of a smile. “Let’s see what dirty little secrets are hidden down here.” Then he chuckled. “Just kidding.”
“Oh, there’s tons,” Taze said, “but we’re not headed to the dirty secrets wing.” His voice was completely serious, leaving Conor to wonder if he was joking or not.
“Well, uh … I guess we should get going then. Oh, and Taze, are you planning on wearing that armor to the other side?”
“What?” Taze asked. “Whats wrong with armor?”
Conor cocked a quizzical brow. “Seriously? You do remember you’re going back to Canada, right?” he asked pointedly in Draconic.
“I … guess.” He blinked in surprise as he spoke in English for the first time in human form. “Is that my voice?” The words were clumsy and laced with a thick Turkish accent.
“So it would seem, my friend,” Conor said in a cheap imitation of an Indian accent.
“Accent is to be expected,” Shawn replied. Once again, the familiar Russian accent Conor had heard when he’d first arrived in Equestria had returned. “It has been a long time since you have spoken English in both amount of time overall, and in your current form.”
“Anyway, I guess I’ll change into something more streetwise when we get to the castle,” Taze said.
“So you need me to step into one of the side rooms then?” Pensword asked in English as he turned from the two Pony carts he’d been helping unload for the trip to Earth. A set of Unicorn guards arrived and saluted before their horns glowed, and they lifted the carts with their combined magic to prevent any damages to the floors, walls, and wheels. He paused suddenly, and his ear twitched. “Don’t tell me that … I got the Queen’s English?” He groaned. “Bollocks.”
Lunar Fang looked around in confusion. She whispered into Pensword’s ear, and he smiled as he slipped a wing into her saddlebag and pulled out the medallion that he’d worn when he first came to Equestria so long ago. She looked shocked, but accepted it and put it around her neck.
“The roles have been reversed,” Pensword chuckled in English.
“It does seem that way,” Lunar Fang answered in, of all things, a southern belle accent.
“It shouldn’t stay that way for long,” Shawn replied with a shrug.
They soon entered the gardens and passed into one of the less used corridors, where a detachment of guards saluted as they passed through. None of them had been down here since the day they had first arrived so very long ago. Taze had changed into more “civil” clothing, even if he and Matthew would debate that particular choice of word. After shifting to Gryphon form and then changing and returning to human form, he was now wearing the black N7 hoodie that he’d worn to the town meeting. A black muscle shirt clung to his toned body beneath the sweatshirt, and a pair of black britches he hoped would pass for sweatpants completed the ensemble for now, at least until he could find something more fitting back on Earth.
The group soon made their way past Celestia's prized rose bush, which appeared to have made a full recovery from when one of the humans fell into it. Cadence was smiling as Lunar Fang slowly gave the heir to their family name to Cadence before showering the little foal with kisses. The Alicorn of love smiled and nodded her head. Pensword then helped Lunar Fang hitch up to the somewhat larger cart the guards had set down by the entrance to the Gardens. There was no sign of Discord yet, so they hoped they were early.
“Ah. So I see you finally made it,” a voice said lazily from behind them. Discord was hovering ten feet above the ground with a small round table covered by a red-and-white checkered tablecloth with two ornate silver chairs. He held a steaming coffee mug in one hand and a magazine titled Chaos Choice in the other.
“Ah, well, hello.” Pensword spoke as he grated out the old language. How strange it was to be speaking English fluently again after all this time. “That… is an interesting magazine.”
“Nah, it’s an old issue. The next one won’t be out till last Thursday,” Discord said. Yawning, he threw the magazine away and it burst into strawberry-scented smoke. “So everypony’s here and ready? I don’t know how long I can hold this, you know.”
“Out of curiosity, how long are you able to send us?” Shawn questioned.
“I thought I explained this. Three to four days at the most, then order sticks her nose in, and everything snaps back to normal.”
“You did not explain much. You somewhat appeared, and then left to ‘hang out’.”
“It’s an imprecise art,” Discord said, shifting so he was now dressed in a white smock with a beret on his head. He held a palette and brush in either hand as he put a few final strokes on an artistic rendering of his head a-la Mona Lisa.
“Does that mean I only get three or four days, too?” Conor asked.
Lunar Fang paused as he looked at Discord and then to Conor and back to Discord. “Why’s he still here then? If you said it was going to last for a few days? Four at most? He’s been here far longer than four days.”
“In your case, I don’t know, but I don’t think you’re quite so accustomed to Equestria yet that you’ll be anchored here. As for before, well as much as it shames me to admit it, I obeyed the law of equivalent exchange and sent someone back in his place.”
In her throne room Celestia was just about to tell another noble why he couldn’t plow the low income housing of Whinnysburg to build a massive summer house when a thunderous “WHAT?” echoed through halls in four separate tones.
Celestia smiled her sphynx smile and rose from her throne. “I believe I have some important visitors I must see to. We can continue this discussion next time.” She continued to smile as she waited for the polite bow, the only action the noble could do, before she teleported into the gardens. “What did Discord do to draw such vocals from the four of you?” She twitched one ear. “I dare say you managed to wake my sister from her slumber as well. That is not an easy task.”
“Apparently, Discord had to send a Pony to Earth to get me to come here,” Conor said. The others all shrieked over it.
“Oh, he did, did he?” Celestia smiled at him, and her voice was incredibly sweet. “And why would you go and do something like that to one of my little Ponies, Discord?”
“It was centuries ago, Celestia. Back before I’d reformed,” he said with equal sweetness as he summoned a halo over his head.
It was actually Moon River who shot his halo off this time, with her crossbow and suction cup darts. Pensword looked livid. “Who did you send? From what Shawn said… it was during your chaos reign.” He closed his eyes. “That means I will have to charge my family with finding this lost soul. Nopony deserves the insanity of Earth.”
“Hey!” Conor said defensively. “It’s not all that bad.”
“Aside from the genetically modified and/or mutated processed food that is more chemical than solid,” Taze noted, rolling his eyes.
“Now that’s just biased. Genetic modification is a tool to make better quality food. It’s the processing in the plants on their way to the market where they get like what you said.”
“I would like to mention that the nutrient levels of the food is also dropping. An orange today does not have the same amount of vitamin c as an orange from the twenties,” Pensword pointed out. Lunar fang and Conor both shot him a look. “What? My mom does that kind of research.”
“Where’d that information come from?” Conor asked curiously.
“Scientific…. Look, ask me after I talk to Matthew’s mom. He doesn’t remember the names of the institutes or scientists…. Pauling? Something Pauling Institute?” He sighed and shook his head. “Look, Matthew’s mind is in this head, but I can’t exactly understand all of it, so this is basically a Pony’s perspective who has never heard of anything to do with your world’s mechanics before.”
Conor shrugged. “Fair enough. I was just saying that it’s not quite so insane is all. There are good people, and there are bad people. It’s essentially the same as Equestria, only we don’t have all the magic, so we’ve had to make do with technology instead.”
“From the point we’re currently sitting on, I’d believe it was a mad world off of basic lawsuits I can still remember. I mean, who wins a lawsuit for breaking their leg on someone else’s property after breaking into said someone’s house and trying to steal said property they broke their leg over?”
“That’s not insanity, that’s just sheer stupidity.” Conor shook his head disappointedly.
“And the judge who decided in his favor?” Taze asked, smirking.
“I repeat, sheer stupidity. I understand upholding the letter of the law, but that guy broke into the house. He had no right to ply that lawsuit, and if that judge had any sense, he would have dismissed it immediately and ruled in favor of the family, plus given them the chance to file countercharges.”
“Let us remind you that this is a Pony from the Third Gryphon War looking at Earth. You grew up there, and you are there, and Matthew keeps showing me the things he deems awesome from Earth, but think about it from an Equestrian viewpoint. This is a world that is not governed by Pegasi, nor the sun and moon controlled by a princess. A Pony could easily be driven out of his mind for the first few weeks if he or she can’t adapt.”
“Not to mention where the ability to make cities vanish in a flash of light is given to people who I seriously doubt could do basic math,” Taze pointed out.
“I still don’t think it’s insane,” Conor insisted obstinately.
“As fun as this debate is,” Discord said, “time is chaos, my friends. Now is everypony ready?”
“But this was getting fun,” Luna protested as she exited from the shadows. “I was learning so much about Earth…” Her expression was such that they couldn’t tell if she was excited or disturbed by all the facts that had just been so casually mentioned.”
“That said,” Pensword spoke with a smile, “I am looking forward to visiting Earth.”
“I believe it’s time,” Celestia agreed. “We look forward to hearing your world’s response. I assume Luna has already given you our missive?”
“Wait, I thought she only was giving Lunar Fang and I documents that I hope not to use, protection of my family from either UFO nuts, government spies, or just random gangs.” He shook his head. “Well, I guess I will be reading to make sure I don’t give the wrong documents.”
“Very good. Very good,” Discord said, turning to Taze. “Now if I’m going to set you all down in the vicinity of your homes, you’ll have to go first,” he said pointedly. “Are you ready?”
“As I’ll ever be,” Taze said, taking a deep breath.
“Okay. Here we go.” Discord snapped his fingers and produced a tuning fork. He gave it a flick and it started to produce a strange thundering note which grew in intensity until even Celestia and Luna covered their ears. Finally, in the spot where Discord’s statue had been, a crack seemed to appear out of nowhere and spider down before, with the sound of shattering glass, pieces of the universe seemed to fall away, revealing a hole floating in midair.
On the other side, Taze could just make out a city covered in trees painted in deep reds and sunny yellows as the leaves prepared for autumn. He said nothing until he spotted a large spiraling river through the city’s heart. “That's the Red. That’s close enough for me to get home.” He spotted a familiar park near the city’s center. “Drop me there at the Assiniboine Park. I can walk from there.”
Discord actually seemed strained, though his actions weren’t visible as the area steered where it was bidden. After a few moments, he huffed. “That's as close as I can get you.”
Taze nodded and waved goodbye to Celestia and Luna. He raised his index and middle finger to his forehead and flicked them out in Shawn, Pensword, and Conor’s direction. “See ya on the other side,” he said before taking the plunge.
After a minute they heard a thump across the gap, and Discord turned. “Okay, who’s next? I can’t keep this up all day, you know.”
“That one would be Conor,” Shawn said pointedly.
“Okay, step up and try to think of something from your home,” Discord said as the human approached.
The portal instantly shifted to reveal an old broken down wooden porch with blue stone stairs and black metal railings. The paint was flaking off in shavings, exposing the dried wood underneath from its many years of abuse in the weather. A miniature garden of sorts had been set up on either side of the steps with the scraggly remains of dead blossoms. A bright red wooden door stood behind a glass storm door, and two ornate metal porch lights had been mounted on either side of the entrance.
“... It’s … home,” Conor said. He held out a hand towards the portal, then paused. “This … this is really goodbye, isn’t it?”
“Never a goodbye, just see you later… which I will do, remember.” Pensword tapped the side of his head near his eyes. “Because, in the long term, we will meet again, most assuredly in the glade.”
“Parting is such sweet sorrow,” Discord said almost sarcastically.
Conor embraced Shawn, then Pensword. “In case we don’t get to see each other again for a while.” Then he bowed to the princesses. “Your Majesties, it’s been an honor and a privilege. Thank you.” Lastly, he turned to Discord and gave him a hug.
Discord didn’t really respond, just stared down at him in shock.
“Thanks for helping me find out what happened to my friends, Discord. I wish I could give you something more, but this is the best I can do.”
“It was … nothing?” Discord clearly was out of his element here.
“Maybe the next time you pull me through you can send me an invite first?” he asked with a sad smile and a brief chuckle.
“I’ll think about it,” Discord responded nonchalantly. He then proceeded to make a shooing motion with his taloned hand as he turned his head away indignantly. “You’d better hurry. I’m not sure how long I can keep this up, you know.”
“Thank you, Discord.” He turned one last time, readjusted the satchel and the shoulder strap on his violin case, waved, then passed through. The sound of a heavy weight knocking down onto wooden floorboards notified them that he’d arrived safely on the other side.
Pensword looked to Shawn. “You can go next.”
Shawn shrugged as he stepped forward. “See you all in a few days.”
“See you, and see if you can stay out of…. Major world-ending mischief.”
“Not likely to happen. If I try to avoid it, something will drag me into it…” Shawn sighed.
The rift that Discord opened for him revealed a hot, dry desert. A few buildings could be seen in the distance with some roads leading out into the cracked dirt and sand.
“Welp, that’s pretty much right…” Shawn replied after a moment.
“Celestia, so many things are starting to make sense,” Luna whispered.
Celestia gaped, then nodded. “So it would seem,” she agreed.
Shawn shrugged once again as he made his way through the rift.
“And then there were two,” Pensword whispered as Discord worked to open the rift towards his own place. He tried to think of home, but no matter what he did or how he tried to change the direction of his thoughts, he inevitably found himself thinking of another place, where family memories were made and adventures were had, and still could be had.
The portal shifted to reveal a steep ravine covered in rocks with a river flowing peacefully through its bottom. A rocky path bordered the shores for travelers to follow on their way into the unknown. A large pine tree forest sprouted up on the edges of the ravine. Soaring over the gap, a great metal structure loomed with its evenly set metal rail ties.
Pensword was shocked at the sight, even moreso when a grin spread involuntarily over his face. “He knows where that is, and he knows how that path will take him to his grandparents’ home. Also ... a train trestle.” He paused in deep thought. “We really do like trains, don’t we?”
“Yes, fascinating. Now can you please get on with it? This is getting rather hard to keep stable, you know,” Discord grunted. Beads of sweat had begun to form along his brow. “You may want to hurry.”
Pensword nodded and he looked to Lunar Fang, who quickly jumped through the portal. Pensword followed seconds later, even as the edges began to flicker and shrink. As he vanished into it, the entire thing turned black before melting into a sludge-like substance and falling to the ground.
Extended Holiday Ch 100: Take Me Home, Country Roads Act 16
Matthew stood silently as he looked around him. Pine trees and gnarled roots surrounded them, and instead of the path he’d hoped for, Discord had set them down just a little ways off to the edge of the railroad. He looked out at the sky and the ravine on their right. He could feel the breeze, and while he could tell the air wasn’t as good as Equestria, he knew the castle would be keeping a lot of the pollution from Denver reaching them.
The wind teased his and Lunar Fang’s manes. Insects and beasts roamed through the woods, and then, on the wind, he could hear it. He blinked once in shock, then again as a large goofy grin spread across his muzzle.
“Even here?” Lunar Fang asked incredulously as she caught the growing expression. All the same, she couldn’t keep a slight grin from her muzzle. “So, how far away is she?”
“Ten minutes. She is huffing, and that means she is running on the mule trail.”
“Mule Trail?” Lunar Fang asked.
“That’s what they call that part of the railroad. It switchbacks three times to go from the lower part of the valley to Scar Ravine.”
“Scar Ravine?”
“Well, one of the later cartographers looked on this area from…” he looked around and pointed to the east. “There we go. Outlook Ridge. He saw this ravine, and commented that it looked like a giant scar upon the Earth.”
“Well, how are you planning on getting to your home now?”
“Tower five,” Matthew answered as he moved to follow the rail bed. His cart creaked pleasantly behind him as he walked along. Enough trees had been cleared to allow a horse to travel by the track without fear of being hit by a train. “That is the name of the water tank about a half mile ahead.”
“And you think they’ll stay at the water tank once they refuel?”
“Are you kidding? The engineer will be poking his head out the cab window. He’s going to see two colorful ponies, and I am going to be waving at him with a wing. That should make him have to use the call box at the tower to report what he saw. Come on. Force march.” He continued to grin as Lunar Fang followed behind. She face-hoofed at the other comment. “It’s also where folks can get on or off, if they are hiking and camping in this area of the valley,” Matthew said.
“Why didn’t you say so first?” Lunar Fang cried out exasperatedly.
“Because I think my way is funner,” Matthew smirked playfully. “So, while we are waiting, I want to tell you, if we are really where I think we are, and I am ninety percent sure–”
Lunar Fang shot him a skeptical look.
“We’re talking about Discord. I cannot be a hundred percent sure.”
“Right,” Lunar Fang muttered. “Still, you are going to tell me some of your plans, aren’t you?” She flicked her ear to the back as they both heard the train approaching.
“I want to take you to Zephyr. It’s an ice cream parlor on Main Street, and then there's the Daylight as well. They make the best Reuben sandwiches I have ever tried.” He laughed as Lunar Fang blew him a kiss from behind. He knew she would kiss him when they both could face each other again, and he couldn’t wait, but for now, both had to worry about their wagons.
“Then there’s the place I worked before I got mixed up. I worked up here during the summers. It is a beautiful town. Reminds me a little of an Earth version of Mountainside Falls, just… different as well.”
“Different?” Lunar Fang asked with a chuckle. “Well, of course it’s different. It's populated by humans.”
“Right,” Matthew answered as they both heard the distinct clumping and sudden echo that heralded the arrival of the engine on the bridge a ways behind. Then the whistle blew a lot more. “And there goes the warning whis–.” He stopped and turned off the path with surprising speed and practically flew into the underbrush. “MOVE OFF THE PATH!”
Lunar Fang was already moving. They both turned around and watched as the train grew ever closer before trundling its way towards the water tank. As the steam engine drew close, Matthew let out a gasp. None of the usual engineers he, well, Matthew remembered, were driving.
“That’s… that’s my brother!” Matthew’s eyes widened. “She’s… He’s got the old gal running.” He gasped as the engine began to slow. “He got the Two-Eight-Two Black Gold running!” There was just enough space to edge at the side of the tracks, so he walked forward to see his brother fully. He snapped a wing out and saluted as the Steam Engine passed by.
On the side of the train cab, gold stenciling proclaimed the engine number 10, and the train’s route name had been stenciled on the coal car. “It’s the Golden Pony Express!” A goofy grin had spread across the Pegasus’ face. The first car after the coal car was painted pine-green. The front part didn’t have any windows, while glimpses of passengers with various devices could be seen through the windows in the back half.
“That’s a mixed baggage car,” Matthew said as his eyes sparkled in excitement. If there was any doubt who was in control now, this confirmed it. Matthew was definitely at the forefront now. The next three attachments were old passenger cars that dated back to the 1800s, and the presidential car, which, according to Matthew, was owned by the Mustang Mine owner. There were six presidential cars the railroad owned, one for each of the five mine owners, and the railway owner himself. As for how he knew it was the Mustang Mine car, the name was emblazoned on the side, and he still remembered those bold colors. As the presidential car passed with its observation deck, the brakes engaged, causing the old wheels to screech as the engine slowed to a stop at the water tank. Matthew froze as he saw the black mechanism and the blank stares of a few men on the deck.
Matthew stared back as he turned to look at Lunar Fang. “That… was the photo train. We just got our pictures taken, and we are going to be on a film.” He chuckled. “Looks like our mugs are going to be showing up soon. Come on. We should move.” He was practically skipping as they pranced along. “My brother is driving! My brother is driving!” he repeated excitedly. Then his brow furrowed. “Why’s my brother driving the train?” The look only lasted for all of a few seconds before the grin replaced it again, and he increased the pace. “Come on! I haven’t seen my brother in ages, and now I finally can again!”
Conor stared, bewildered as he took in the familiar sights, sounds, and smells of his suburban home. The grass had browned with the passing time and seasons, and the sparse amount of trees that still remained in their front yard had already turned. The ground was littered with brown brittle leaves, and the cool tinge of frost hovered in the air. He was surprised to see his breath, and chuckled as he watched the white slowly dissipate. It seemed almost to sparkle, and he couldn’t help but smile as he got up from his place on the cold cobblestones. This was real. It was really happening. He was finally home.
The familiar bark of a small territorial canine only reinforced the giddy sensation. He watched as he heard the familiar sound of the doorknob turning. He saw the blur of tan and white mock fury that was his dog barking madly at the door. And then he looked up to see the familiar figure of a woman’s face. Her skin had been worn by the care of decades, and the edges of her hair had turned silver and white. She clutched at the knob with swollen fingers as she stared and gaped.
Conor stepped forward and pulled open the storm door. The dog barked frenziedly at his legs as she took in his scent. He paid her no mind. He felt the hot streaks fall fresh again.
“Mom? I’m home.”
The woman sobbed as she wrapped her arms around him. Conor returned the gesture in kind. He couldn’t even begin to imagine the pain she’d had to face over the last few months. He slowly led her and the dog inside and shut the door behind them. For now, neither needed to talk. All they needed was each other.
Taze took in a deep breath of air before his body reflexively began to cough violently as his lungs tried to expel what his brain first labeled as poison gas. After such a long time in Equestria's rich environment, it took a few minutes for his brain to realize he wasn’t suffocating and the air was just that bad. He looked around the park, taking in the families walking along in the autumn weather. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the piece of leather that, according to his memories, had been his wallet.
He sighed as he opened the wallet, finding an ID card that looked nothing like him, several plastic cards whose purpose and use were only sluggishly coming back to him, and a single five dollar bill nestled in the cash section.
He couldn’t turn into Grif right now. Winnipeg was too populated, and there was no way he wouldn’t be seen. He needed a map and a way to the closest jeweler or pawn shop. With surprising clarity, Taze cursed himself for not having a cellphone.
“Calm down and think it through,” he reminded himself. “Where there is a will, there is a way. Let's see…” He found a nearby bench in a mostly unoccupied area and sat down, taking several long, slow breaths as he concentrated, bringing his mind into focus. As he searched the depths of his memories, a box-like structure with a metal frame and glass came to mind. A bus stop! The memories flowed back faster now. A bus: a long human cart that was self-propelled. Humans could use it to get between places cheaply. The location of a pawnshop he had once visited came to mind, a sign declaring they purchased gold vivid in the window. With a smile, Taze got to his feet and wandered down the path. Once he found a street, he would find one of these bus stops and wait for the cart to come around. With the money he had, he would get as far as he could and make the rest of the trek on foot.
This wasn’t so hard!
Shawn landed with a faint thud, clearing the loose dirt around his feet. After regulating his breath, he sighed. “Jeez. I expected a harder time breathing, but this is ridiculous.”
Rolling his shoulders, he looked out into the distance, finding walls, walls, and a few buildings. Also sand and dirt, but that was expected. What wasn’t expected, however, was the amount of individuals pointing rifles in his general direction. After glancing over his shoulder, he determined that they were, in fact, aiming at him.
From behind he heard at least three people moving. “ON the ground!” came the barking order. “On the ground now. NOW! NOW! NOW!” The orders were short and constant. He just watched as the soldiers grabbed him. They tried to push him down, and he didn’t budge. A few of the younger soldiers were utterly baffled as three MPs strained behind him with their combined strength, and he still stood upright, acting like they were little kids trying to pull him down.
He did feel that his arms were zip tied as he had moved them back to scratch an itch. The MPs stopped as an older man walked forward. He was dressed in ACUs, and the rank on the front sternum showed the image of a bird. Either he was a Lieutenant Colonel or a full Colonel. “Who are you, and what are you doing on this live firing range? How did you enter Base Washington?”
“The name’s Shawn. I’m here because this is where I landed,” he said in his Russian accent.
The officer looked at Shawn. He looked then at the MPs. “What happened?”
“He just appeared in a flash of pink light,” The MP on Shawn’s left replied. “We don’t know if he has any identification on him or if he’s dangerous.”
“So, Mr. Shawn, is it? What’s a Russian from the Ural Mountains doing in an American Base?”
“Not Russian. Just haven’t used English in forty years.”
“And yet you use it flawlessly. If you haven’t spoken in forty years, what did you speak?” he asked skeptically.
“Let me think… I started with English, had to learn... “ He paused, thinking to himself. “Equish? Something like that.” A faint snap echoed through the air like a gunshot as he placed a hand to his chin in thought. “There’s also the Latin, but I have doubts anyone actually speaks that.”
The officer could see the shocked looks on the faces of his troops. It was mirrored to an extent on his own face. A zip tie couldn’t be broken that easily. “In that case… Superman, I’d like to ask you a few more questions. However, seeing as you entered the base without passing the main gate, have a Russian accent, and no form of identification whatsoever, I’m going to have to ask you to come with us to an interrogation room. It’d be easier if you could offer us some sort of passport, driver's license, anything along those lines.”
Shawn shrugged. “Sure, you can ask questions, though I don’t have much in the form of papers. Well, except…” He pulled out a few receipts. “I… have coupon good till December twenty-thirteen, but... I have a feeling you aren’t looking for that.”
“What’s this?” One of the MPs asked as he handled the papers. “This doesn’t feel like normal receipt paper, and the markings are like nothing I’ve ever seen before. Certainly not Russian or English. Maybe it’s some kind of code?”
The other officer spoke up. “This… is very unusual. It appears to be an expired walmart coupon for some electronics. It’s three years old, Sir, but it still looks like he got it yesterday.”
The Colonel nodded. “Right. Sir, I need you to come with us. Either that, or I’ll get a forklift to take you where you need to go.”
“Pfft. Forklift.” Shawn chuckled. “Sure. Lead way.”
The guards slowly led him away as a Master Sergeant barked orders to resume the exercise, and the peppering sound of gunfire echoed across the range once again.
Taze exited the pawn shop. He’d just sold ten thousand dollars worth of gold bits for a solid six thousand in cash. He exited the building and headed down the street looking for another jeweler or pawn shop to sell some more. Drawing on his knowledge of the neighborhood, he cut through a couple of alleys to save time, and ended up finding himself in a very interesting predicament.
He suddenly felt something metallic and round press against the back of his head. “No sudden movements. I want your wallet and phone.”
“Am I being mugged?” Taze asked.
“What’s it sound like, genius? Of course you’re bein’ mugged. Now hand them over!” The man replied as the pressure increased from the barrel of the gun.
“Can you take a few steps back, at least? It’s kind of hard to concentrate when you're pressing that thing into my skull,” Taze said as a false tremor ran through his hands.
“Empty those pockets. Now! Hurry up! Or we’re going to have a problem,” the assailant growled.
Taze sighed. “Suit yourself.” He made a slapping motion with his hand, and a sudden violent gust of wind suddenly blew down the alley, buffeting the mugger, and sending him staggering sideways. Taze took the opening to turn and face his would-be mugger, taking a few steps back.
After the mugger caught his balance, he raised his gun with the intent to fire, only for the unexpected to happen.
The feeling was natural to Taze as he let the world slow and delved into bullet time. Moving right to the mugger, he pushed the release, and the magazine began to slide to the ground. He then punched the mugger twice over the head before punching him twice in the gut. As the world began to speed up again, he returned to his point of origin just in time to hear the magazine clatter onto the pavement.
The mugger flinched back from the hits and knocked his head against the wall. His breathing was ragged, and his eyes wild as he tried to use his gun in vain. His eyes grew even wider.
Taze smiled smugly at the mugger with a vindictive glare in his eyes. “Care to try that again?”
Taze’s figure blurred as the figure ran away, then became visible again. He chuckled to himself as he moved through his new acquisition. The mugger’s wallet had plenty of cash to get him where he needed to go. After pocketing the bills, he threw the rest aside. Then he looked at the gun, wondering just how much he could sell it for, and how long it would take for his would-be assailant to realise they were gone.
The cry of dismay was music to his ears.
Taze took several steps forward before he knelt to the ground, panting. He could feel his Equestrian field regenerating, but it was a lot slower and more taxing on him than it had been in Equestria or even that other version of Equestria for that matter. He coughed several times into his hand and raised an eyebrow at the pink stain to his spit, but shrugged it off as he got to his feet and headed towards the streets.
The scene at the water tank was one of utter confusion as the train filled up on water. Steam puffed lazily from the stack as the engine drank its fill. The group of videographers and photographers were gathered around on the side of the railway looking over each other at a computer screen.
“Is that...?” one voice spoke before it was drowned out by another.
“It was, but how?”
“It has wings. What gives?”
“And what about the color? Did some girl dye it or something?”
“But the size.”
“Enough!” The loud voice of Matthew’s brother carried over the rest as he walked up from one of the supply shacks. “You’d better squirrel away copies that matter to you and your families, because I doubt that particular footage and pictures are going to be kept in your possession for long.”
“And how are we supposed to be sure this isn’t some hoax?”
“Because, I assure you, it is not,” a new voice spoke up from the other side of the observation car. The accent was Queen’s English, cultured and refined. “I am proof enough.” A somewhat larger wooden cart bumped over the rails behind the caboose, revealing the same Pegasus from the film. “Now–” he looked at the group, even as they raced to take pictures. “Please, please. At least wait until I have my wife with me.”
That stopped everyone in their tracks. “Wife?” half the photo team shouted.
“Yes.” The Pegasus looked at the engineer. “I have a bundle for you, Mr. Conner, if you wouldn’t mind, that silk one there on the top of my cart.”
“How...?” Mark asked as he looked at the Pony. His head was pounding from the sudden spike in his pulse. “You look like you’re from a show my brother used to watch,” he grumbled as he moved forward. He paused as he saw the tag on the package. He whirled around to look at the Pony and approached him menacingly, but stopped dead when the Pony asked a single question.
“Do you want me to talk an hour about the Titanic? Because I can, and I’ll start when they laid her keel back on thirty one march, Nineteen-oh-nine. She was built almost in tandem with–”
“...How?” This time it was gentler, meeker.
“Simple, Mark. Very Simple. But I will only tell you in the cab.” He frowned. “But that means I will need to buy a ticket. You still charge twenty dollars for passage and use of the luggage car?”
“How did you–?”
“You should find forty US dollars, the last cash Matthew had in his wallet,” the Pegasus spoke as he moved and, to the shock of all watching, unhitched himself with his wings to grab the bundle.
“No. If you know what happened to him three years ago, I’ll personally eat the cost of transporting you and your... wife back to the George Park Passenger Station.”
Matthew smiled happily. “Great. Lunar Fang, you can have fun in the observation car. I will be up front in the cab. There should be plenty of space for somepony as small as I am.”
Lunar Fang just smiled as she circled around the caboose, pulling her cart behind her. She then proceeded to lean in and kiss him twice for the contradictions he’d used so far.
Conor sighed as he stroked the familiar books in his bedroom. He’d never thought he would see this place again, well, at least until Discord got blackmailed into helping find a way. He couldn’t help but chuckle as he recalled the goofy Draconequus. He really wasn’t all that bad a person, just a little mischievous and petulant. If anything, Discord seemed more like a child than he did an ancient entity of chaos and mayhem.
He sat down on his old bed and stared at the wall beside his door. He couldn’t help but recall the dream he’d had when Luna visited. It was hard to believe that he’d been in another world and taught how to fight. A sad smile crossed his lips as he remembered the training with fondness. Rook may have been a bit of a bully at times, but that was because he needed to be.
He fingered the band on his arm. In all the excitement, he’d forgotten to remove it. The blue metal glinted pleasantly as he gazed once more on its craftsmanship. The flawed diamond with its windigo pattern seemed a bit dull, but perhaps that was simply because his curtains were drawn. There would likely be many questions, one of which being where he’d gotten such a clearly expensive accessory.
He didn’t know how long he’d been sitting there before the knock sounded at his door. “Conor? Can I come in?”
“Yeah. It’s open.”
Conor’s mom opened the door and made her way to the bed to sit down with her son. “I just called your father with the news. He should be home in a few hours, once school is settled.”
“You know, Mom, I can still hardly believe this is all real. It’s like I’m stuck in an anime or some kind of story or something.”
“It’s a bit strange for us, too. You’ve been gone for nearly a year. Your sister’s in her senior year now.”
“A year…” Conor murmured to himself. “It was only a few months where I was.”
“You want to talk about it?”
“Yeah, but not until everyone’s together. There’s… a lot to talk about.”
She nodded. “You’re right. There are some people who’re going to want to interview you later, too.”
“You mean the FBI?”
“Yup.”
“Yeah, if things go the way I think they’re going to go, Mom, you might want to get used to people like them being around.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’ll explain when we’re all together. Have you called them yet?”
“I wanted to make sure it was alright with you first.”
“Yeah. Let’s just say this is sort of a world-shattering discovery…”
“Please remove your coat. I’m afraid we’ll need to sort through it to find any identification or other information. Without an ID, we need to be able to find something to help figure out who you are. For all we know, you could have a bunch of weapons stored in there,” one of the MPs at the interrogation room’s doors said.
Shawn shrugged as he removed his coat and held it out to them. “Sure. Have fun.”
One MP held it as another reached into the main left pocket and pulled out… a large box with a note in English that read, Thank you for taking care of Strikey for me. It was signed in a language none of them could read, but Shawn knew only too well that it was Pinkie’s signature writing. Said box was bigger then the coat pocket. Another MP looked up at the ceiling, hoping they got that on film.
“When did she sneak that in?” Shawn questioned aloud, clearly confused himself.
“You know who made that? And how did you get it to fit in?” the officer spoke. Shawn could now read that his last name was Stark.
“Little Pink Pony. Can’t remember English translation of name. I didn’t fit it in, she did. Somehow while I was wearing it, too…” He frowned.
“So you think this is funny?” Officer Stark asked. “I can tell you that no one is laughing. Do you have anything that could ID you? Maybe a phone?”
“I find it a little amusing, yes. She loves jokes. As for phone, I think I still have mine somewhere in the pockets.”
The MPs started putting their hands into the pockets looking for it. Stark sighed as he didn’t know what to do. “Okay, Superman… how is it that your coat–?”
“It’s empty,” One MP replied. He handed it back to Shawn. “Here. Put it back on.”
Shawn put on his coat and reached into one of the pockets. “It better not be empty. I had my good smithing hammer in here,” he said as he pulled out said large smithing hammer. “Oh, good.” He smiled, putting it back inside. After a moment of moving his arm around, he pulled out his phone. “Ah, there it is. Here you go.”
One MP took the phone while two others stared in shock before they shouted. “Remove the coat right now!”
“But you already looked through my coat.” Shawn frowned. “I would like to keep my coat.”
“It presents a security problem to the base, and till we can clear it, I’m afraid we’ll have to hold it in quarantine,” Officer Stark explained. “When we’re done examining it and its properties, you can have it back.”
Shawn frowned as he removed his coat once more. “Better return it. I only have the one…”
Underneath the jacket they saw that he was wearing a white shirt, a vest the same color as the jacket, and a cravat. “Okay, Mister Fancy Superman. If you’d just come this way,” Stark said as he motioned down the hall.
“Fine.”
As Shawn looked away, One MP moved, then paused. “Hawk, where’s your sidearm?”
“What?” Hawk asked as he moved and found that not only was his sidearm missing, but the holster as well. “Barrett… your sidearm is missing, too.” They both paused and looked at the coat as it moved a little. “We’d better get this thing under guard, stat. And nobody touches it, understand?”
They nodded silently in agreement.
Shawn found himself in an interrogation room, but this one had padded chairs, so it must have been for the nicer prisoners. Perhaps for more friendly negotiations and discussion. “Take a seat. We’ve got a few questions for you,” Stark said, the first of which being, where are you from?”
“Originally, or from where I came?”
Officer Stark laughed. “Why not both?”
It was a grim sight. The blue hue seemed to absorb all the light in the room, and the faint specks of gold only came as a reminder that it was a cursed object, greedy in nature, as anything that came near it was gone, never to be seen again.
It would twitch every now and then, taunting them as they could do nothing but watch from a distance, for any closer and they would be in danger…
It wanted to consume everything…
“Okay,” Officer Hawk spoke softly. “What are we at?”
“Um…” Barrett looked over the clipboard. “We’re missing two side arms, including holsters, three mags of ammo, two Kabar knives, one kevlar vest– we’re still working on how the vest went missing when the soldier's uniform was still in place; oh, and fifty dollars.” He proceeded to look up at the officer, then back at his hand to find his clipboard missing. “...Add another clipboard to list.”
“Should we expand the no-go zone?” the sergeant asked as he looked at the coat, holding his M-16 rifle tightly. “I feel like this is some science fiction alien movie.”
“Affirmative, Sir. Also, you should send for a new pair of combat boots… and socks,” Barrett said, pointing to Hawk’s now naked feet.
“Why do we have to be in the room?”
“Brass wants the coat watched at all times until we confirm the origin of our visitor,” Barrett said.
“Well I’m backing up,” the sergeant said as he did just that.
“Permission to speak freely, Sir?”
Second Lieutenant Hawk nodded. “Granted. In fact, I’m giving everybody permission.”
“This is a scary-ass coat, Sir”
“Be quieter. It’ll hear you,” the sergeant whispered.
“You’re afraid of a bloody coat?” a staff sergeant asked as he entered carrying a SAW. “And why am I authorized with this for guard duty?”
Turning towards the coat once more however, revealed the chair and coat was now turned and facing them.
The staff sergeant was baffled at how the others backed up further away from the coat. “Why are you missing your ranks and name badges?”
“You're holding air,” one of the other sergeants on the guard detail replied.
The staff sergeant looked down and blinked in shock. “WHAT?” He looked back at the coat and he angrily marched forward. “You give that back to me right this second.” The lights flickered, sending the room into blackness.
Perfect…
Matthew smiled as he watched the carts get loaded into the baggage car and smiled. He was looking forward to spending time with his brother in the locomotive’s engine cab. He kissed Lunar Fang goodbye, and she smiled before she walked toward the observation car.
Mark looked at the men who had taken the ropes to help handle the carts, and then looked to Lunar Fang before finally settling on Matthew. He frowned as he moved to help this Pony who claimed to be his brother. With a little extra push from the Pegasus, the second cart was able to get loaded properly over the lip of the baggage car.
“I’ve got some questions I need to ask you,” Mark said bluntly as Matthew turned to face him. “Can we move to the observation car? We can let the Engineer finish the trip.”
“But, you are the Engineer.” Yeah, that was Matthew’s tone, alright… in the Queen's English accent. This was going to be a very confusing day.
“No, I run the entire company. I operate the whole system now.” He chuckled as the Pony gaped. “You have been gone a few years.”
“How many?” the Pony asked. “I… three to four years?” His ears suddenly dropped down and pinned themselves to the back of his head.
“Yeah, you’ve got a lot to catch up on. That’s why I’d rather not have the noise of the engine bother you.”
“Okay…” A moment later they heard screams from the observation car. “That’s my Lunar Fang.”
“What?” Mark asked as he started to race to the end of the car. “She knew?”
“Knew what?” the Pony asked. “Were you thinking that I was going to leave my wife defenseless with a bunch of aliens? If they tried anything, they would be facing a Commander from the Third Gryphon War, and the one that stole my heart. She can defend herself.”
Mark felt a shiver down his spine. “Matthew was never that blood thirsty.”
“I am not just Matthew. I am also Moonkissed Pensword.” He stopped as he looked at the steps. Grumbling about height differentials, he flapped his wings and leaped onto the step.
“Why don’t you just fly?” Mark asked as he climbed up after Matthew.
“Conservation of magic. This world is very different. I want to conserve what I can for as long as I can.”
Mark didn’t believe that, but let it slide as he opened the door to find that the five men and two women were either tied up, sprawled out from what he hoped were minor blows to the head by hooves, and were still breathing, although one man was clutching a hand. He noticed a red tint around the mare’s muzzle.
“Dumb city folk,” he muttered as he looked about the cabin. They felt the jolt and the train was on its way. “Think they know how to handle horses by watching TV.” He frowned and looked about the room. “Still, do you want me to do something?”
“Leave them be,” Lunar Fang responded. Let them suffer the slights and pains of trying to treat me like a common Gryphon prisoner.”
Mark stared blankly at Lunar Fang before looking at Matthew.
Matthew sighed as he put a hoof to the bridge of his nose. “Don’t worry. I’ll explain,” he promised before finding two sudden kisses on his lips. “Starting with why she just kissed me.” He settled down on the carpet, feeling the sway of the cars and locomotive as he marvelled at the sheer size of the car. It was bigger then the royal coaches in Equestria, and that was saying something. How strange it was to see Human things again from the perspective of such a smaller species. Meanwhile, Mark was busy untying the passengers and doing his best to calm them as he guided them to their seats or escorted them into the neighboring car with a stern rebuke and an assurance that they could file complaints later with the officials, though saying they got beaten by a winged Pony probably wouldn’t be the wisest choice on their part. He received a few murderous glares, but the passengers left it at that.
“Why she kisses me is due to the fact that I normally do not use contractions in my daily speech. They are only now showing up again after more than a lifetime. “He took a deep breath. “A lot has happened in the last few years I have been gone. You might not like some of it, but with Mom not here, I can tell you more about it, starting on that Halloween night. One minute, I was stepping out onto the doorstep, and then…” He continued forward, talking about his time in Equestria, falling through time twice, and the Third Gryphon War. There was a lot to cover before they arrived at the station.
Conor sat in the cushioned red chair in the family room next to the brick fireplace as his family looked on from the leather couch. He held the armband in his hands and absently flipped it end over end.
“So yeah. I’ve been living in a land of multicolored mythical ponies on a world filled with just about every creature from myth you can list, I nearly got turned permanently into one of said denizens of said world, and learned how to use magic, and I also basically wound up helping to save the world from death and destruction at the hands of a human that had been completely and totally corrupted by an energy source that basically shoved all his morals and good parts into a corner and let the anger and negative attributes take control. It wasn’t pretty. There’s a few other things besides, but I figure I can fill in the rest when the FBI gets here.”
“That’s… interesting?” Mrs. Vulpes said.
Conor shrugged. “It’s the truth. It’s weird, though. Their magic doesn’t come from spirits like magic here is supposed to. It’s like an actual energy that comes directly from the planet itself.”
“And you almost became–”
“A Unicorn, yeah. I could hardly believe it myself at first, but, well, you know, fantasy buff. It made the adjustment a lot easier.”
“And that’s how you grew back your hair? With magic?”
“Uh… not exactly. I guess you could say it was more of a biological renewal. When I was turning into that other form, my hair grew back thick and strong again. Then Luna and Celestia forged this for me, so I could switch forms, instead of being stuck between.”
“I guess that’s what you could call a hairy situation,” Mister Vulpes said with a chuckle. The man was mostly bald with a cul-de-sac of a head bordered by gray hairs. His blue eyes were just as piercing as his son’s, and his beard and mustache had grown out since Conor had last seen him. He wore a simple pair of bluejeans and an Underarmor shirt.
Conor groaned and chuckled. “Dad, I both missed and didn’t miss the puns.”
“Some things never change, Son,” he responded back.
“Clearly.” Conor smiled. “Well, on the plus side, I found out what happened to my friends. They’re perfectly fine, and I’m back for good, well, until I move out on my own anyways. Oh, and Discord sends his apologies, even if he didn’t exactly say it like that.”
“Discord?”
“The one who pulled me into Equestria in the first place. He’s a Draconequus. Body of a brown horse, head of a goat, one long fang, yellow eyes with red pupils, a black donkey’s mane, a white goat beard, one goat horn, one deer antler, one lion’s paw, one taloned hand, a deer hoof, a green lizard’s leg, a purple bat wing, a bluebird wing, and a red dragon’s tail with a white tuft at the end. Oh, and he sounds like John Delancey. He’s literally the Q of Equestria.”
“And… he didn’t do anything to you?”
“No. I’m still me. He has been known to turn people into the exact opposite of their personalities in the past, but that was before Twilight and the others reformed him.”
“Who?”
“They’re called the Mane Six in the brony community here. Basically, they can wield one of the greatest magical forces known in all Equis to defend their country. That’s how Discord was bound the first couple of times, and his magic undone.”
“You do realize how crazy that’s going to sound, right?” Karyn, Conor’s little sister, said as she looked up from her iphone. Her blond hair shone in the light
“Which is why I have proof.”
“And that is?”
“Wait till the agents get here, and I’ll show you.”
Taze signed the agreement quickly. He’d managed to sell most of his gold, and had enough money to buy things he thought necessary, as well as rent a place to stay and purchase food. Having already booked a hotel room, he was currently in the act of renting a Uhaul truck. With the mass of items he was planning to buy, it could be suspicious for him to leave with only a backpack, so, to circumvent this, he would load the things he bought into a truck, and then, later, away from prying eyes, he would load his bag from inside the truck. He’d paid the deposit and the charge up front, and while the man in charge was surprised to see it paid for in cash, he cleared the deal with the addition of a minor sum on top of the surcharge. Now it was time to relax and prepare for the next day. With that in mind, he casually made his way to the hotel.
After a barely edible meal, – the food of earth, much like the air, didn’t compare to the quality of Equestrian food – Taze laid on his bed, casually flipping through channels, trying to catch up on pop culture updates in the last few years. He stopped with a nostalgic smile as he came across a late rerun of My Little Pony Friendship is Magic. Laughing at the irony of the situation, he wondered where the episodes had gone in the time they were away. As the colorful characters ran through the opening sequence, Taze took gulps from a bottle of refined water. When twilight's balloon landed on the ground, he spat violently into the air as he saw three characters jump off the train behind her and walk off the scene. A Unicorn soon followed after, tripping on his hooves before the transition to the next portion of the opening.
“No…”
He didn’t have the ability to rewind the scene, and he cursed himself for not having some way to use the free wi-fi, but he was sure he recognized the three characters.
A black furred Gryphon with green feathers on its breast, a deep blue Pegasus, a large Earth Pony wearing something blue and gold, and the clumsy Unicorn that looked a lot like Blueblood.
“Holy sh–”
Another officer in ACUs walked into the quarantine. His two silver bars glinted in the light, having been polished recently. He then handed Colonel Stark a file.
“Thank you, Captain Rogers.” Stark nodded as he took the file and opened it. “Okay, Shawn Octo Viginti.” He chuckled. “That has to be one of the weirdest names I have ever heard.” Then he moved on. “It seems the phone you have on your person belongs to a man reported missing three years ago. We have some information here that he should only know, but let’s start with the easy stuff first. I like to give people a sporting chance, after all, and you’re the only thing keeping me away from an incredibly boring job, so please don’t disappoint me.” He smirked. “Who are your parents, where did you live, and, finally, what is your birthday?”
“Let me think. Hans and Mary, I used to live in Palmetto, and I was born in Nineteen eighty-seven,” Shawn replied after a moment to recollect. It was rather difficult sifting through all of those old memories, but it helped being in more human surroundings.
“Okay.” Stark checked off something on his clipboard. “So far, so good. We still don’t know it’s really you, mind you, but we’ve notified the proper authorities. If you really are who you say you are, you fall under FBI jurisdiction. They should be arriving here with your parents in a little bit. Once they get here, we’ll put them in the same room with you, so they can testify whether you are or are not who you claim to be. If they verify your identity, you get to leave the base scott free, but… if they don’t verify, well, that’s another matter entirely now, isn’t it?” he asked as his eyes narrowed. “Assuming you are who you claim to be, I’m looking forward to hearing how it is you managed to break into a military base without access or prior authorization, and , of course, where you’ve been the last few years. I’m certain you’ll have a rather… creative story.”
Shawn frowned. “I thought I already answered that one…” Shawn replied confused.
“To us, yes. However, the FBI is going to ask you those same questions as well. I can’t wait to compare notes.”
“All right,” Shawn said, leaning back in his chair. “I don’t think I like you very much. So… when can I have my coat back?”
Stark shrugged. “Join the club. As for when you get the coat back, you can have it once you’re released into FBI Custody.”.
“Delightful.” Shawn frowned. “So what now? More questions? Another test? I show you magic? Or do we just sit here? Correction. I sit here, staring at the wall, questioning if I should just walk out or not...”
“Private Wilson will come in to keep you company. Mind you, he’s a bit of a magic nut, but that should fit you just fine.” He smirked as he rose. “Just a warning. He never shuts up.” Then he made his way to the door and headed back out.
Fifteen minutes later, during which Shawn learned the new President’s name, the number of votes he got, the fact that ten people voted for a goat in California, along with the fact that goats were also being considered to be used to mow the grass in the LA region, which went onto information about grass growing. It was bleeding together. Private Wilson was currently talking about MRE’s as he dug into one. Then he threw one at Shawn. “Eat. I know they should give you something, but I brought some to share. They really are unfit for human consumption, but that doesn’t stop them feeding us this stuff.”
“Don’t need food.”
“Hey, I know it sucks, but I’m sure once we get this all settled, you’ll be able to go out and get yourself a nice chimichanga, or a taco!”
“No, I really don’t need to eat, I do it for fun now,” Shawn replied, questioning whether it would be edible or not, considering his reaction to the air alone.
“That sounds boring.” The soldier pouted. “What's the good in life if you can’t enjoy food? We even use taste to describe life! I mean, you think the guy who said ‘variety is the spice of life’ wasn’t a fat guy?”
“I didn’t say I can’t or don’t eat anymore. I just said I do it for fun,” Shawn replied. “Then again, most of their stuff tends to be sweets…” He looked to the MRE once again, tossing the idea around in his head.
“You mean they don’t have TACOS?” Private wilson seemed an odd mixture of shocked, horrified, and heartbroken at the possibility.
“Nah, they have those. They just like their sweets.”
“Oh.” He sighed in relief. “You can’t joke about tacos, man.”
“I hardly ever joke. I think I lost my sense of humor after the third time I nearly died.” Shawn paused, thinking for a moment. “Or perhaps the second time… Or the torture session...”
“What? Torture sessions are fun, though!” Private wilson said as he rolled up a sleeve to reveal an arm that resembled ground beef.
Shawn stared at the man for a minute. “Wow… and I’m considered insane…” He muttered the last part to himself.
The monstrosity stared at them with empty eyes. They could feel the vast emptiness that accompanied it, both figuratively and literally. But they weren’t just empty…
They were hungry…
“I just wish we knew where it put Corporal Jones,” the same mouthy sergeant moaned as they pressed up against the walls.
“Ignore that. That thing took the keys, and the door’s locked.” Second Lieutenant Hawk moaned in his boxers. That thing in the chair had even taken his dog tags.
“Somebody’ll find us when shift changes, right, Sir?” Barrett asked. He had also been stripped down to his boxers and a white undershirt.
“That started five minutes ago,” a trembling private said as he looked at a watch. He didn’t dare remove his eyes from it, lest he lose it to that thing. “What I want to know is why they aren’t sending backup. They have cameras. They should be able to see what’s happening.”
The door opened, and five guards with two techs walked in. They took one look at the five soldiers in their skivvies, then up to the blushing men. “Why are you out of your uniforms?”
The Captain then looked to the wall. “WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED TO THE SECURITY CAMERA?” The spot where the security camera had been was barren, as though there had never been anything in the corner of the room, not even a hole was present for the wires. It was just walls and a ceiling.
“That would explain the static…”
“As long as we don’t look away, everything will be fine, Sir,” Barrett said, staring intently at the coat. Suddenly the lights overhead flickered several times. When they finally stopped, the coat and the chair it had been on were gone.
Everyone in the room were now in just their boxers. Their military undershirts were missing, and so were the dog tags. The Captain looked at the Room. “WHAT DID IT TAKE?” he bellowed.
“We’re missing Corporal Jones, Sir.”
“I love to see you smile,” a familiar voice sang. As they looked to the corner of the room they found the corporal in his boxers, lying in the fetal position, muttering to himself. “Come on, everypony. Smile, smile, smile. Fill my heart up with sunshine, sunshine ... all I really need’s a smile, smile, smile from these happy friends of mine.” He proceeded to keep singing his strange song, starting over whenever he came to the end. He stared forward with blank eyes as the haunted voice continued to repeat.
“Medic!” Hawk bellowed. “Medic!”
“Where did the coat go?” the mouthy Sergeant muttered in horror.
“I don’t know, and I don’t want to know, Hughes,” came the reply. A moment later, the group was trying to figure out who said those words. Things just weren’t making sense anymore.
Shawn had been left alone by this point. Apparently company had arrived, and they were going to be standing behind the one-way glass momentarily. He sighed aloud, leaning further back into his seat as he questioned where they were keeping his coat. Looking over his white shirt once again, he made note of parts he needed to re-sew, as they looked out of place.
He kept all his stuff in his coat. Why bother carrying things in limited pockets when you had unlimited space?
Meanwhile, on the other side of said glass…
“Thank you for joining us,” Colonel Stark spoke as he stood up. “We have the man who has your son’s phone, and I want you to take a look at him, ask him questions through the intercom.” He shot a look at the two FBI agents. “At the moment, this is still our jurisdiction, due to the nature of the subject’s arrival. If we get a positive ID, you can have him.”
Mary Viginti wore her red hair in a ponytail that accented her black shirt and jeans. After a moment, she walked up to the window and stared at Shawn. Her blue eyes shone with the tears that wanted to be shed, but were kept in check by her more rational mind. She couldn’t afford to get her hopes up too high. Not yet.
Hans, her husband, was a larger man with blonde hair and blue eyes. He wore a green t-shirt and blue jeans, and laid a supportive arm around his wife as the two stared intently at the man in the room. The garb was different, most assuredly, but its fashion was nigh identical to the costume Shawn had worn on the night he disappeared. Even if he had changed from the last time they saw him; that same bored, blank expression, that familiar sigh, the way he folded his arms...
“It’s…” Mary started. This time, she let the tears fall. How could she not? She would have said more, but an involuntary sob stole her speech.
Hans had to speak for her as he pulled her into an embrace. “It’s him,” he choked out with a curt nod. “What happened to him?”
“That… is a story he’ll have to tell you himself,” Colonel Stark answered in a roundabout way.
“What? Can’t you just tell them?” Shawn questioned as he faced the glass.
“How...?” Colonel Stark asked, his mouth agape as just a hint of a smirk twinged at the corners of Shawn’s lips. Stark shook his head in disbelief and pushed the talk button. “Legally, I could, but then I’d be court martialed. There is nothing in the books that says you can’t tell them on the ride home.”
Shawn looked confused. “Wow. Strict military…” He shrugged. “All right. So, now what?” He questioned as he stood up and brushed his coat off.
“How...? Where did your…?” Colonel Stark started before he looked to the agents and shook his head. “I don’t care. You’re their problem now. Have a nice time, and next time, use the front gate.”
“I’ll try and tell Discord to open the rift at the front door,” Shawn replied, rolling his eyes as he moved towards the door. “So... unlocked?” he questioned as he turned the handle. There was a distinct crack, followed by the sound of grating metal.
Colonel Stark sighed. “It is now.”
“Good. I don’t think a broken lock would have been appreciated,” Shawn replied as he stepped out of the room, and soon after into two sets of arms that probably would have squeezed him to death, had he not already been so well conditioned by his time in Equestria. “It’s good to see you, too.”
Taze tossed the empty McDonald's wrapper away nonchalantly as he walked through the mall. “Tasted like ash in my mouth, but at least it was filling.” He decided his first order of business was to get some proper fresh clothes for the next few days, as well as a pair of.... Okay, that was odd, why would they call them ‘Air Jordans’ if they were used for walking on the ground? With a shrug, he entered the shoe store and came out fifteen minutes later wearing a pair of black and red sneakers. He purchased a few pairs of jeans, and, later, a few t-shirts with recognizable people on them. An hour later he still wore the N7 hooded sweatshirt, but under it was a red shirt with a familiar red-and-black spandex-covered man upside down firing two automatic pistols. A speech bubble boldly declared, “Tacos,” in large black letters.
He visited an electronics store and proceeded to outfit himself with a tablet, the best laptop he could find, and a cell phone. It took almost an hour for him to sign the necessary contract and assure the details, before paying several years up front. He figured they’d get another trip eventually, but he wasn’t sure when, so why not be on the safe side?
Properly outfitted at last, Taze found himself ready to begin acquiring the necessary things he’d decided on. He would spend the day purchasing, and then he’d make his way home that night, spend said night staking the house out, and then proceed to retrieve his things when his parents went to work and his brother went to school. Things began coming back clearer to him as he visited the His Master’s Voice store and acquired dozens of DVDs, including the entirety of several series. He also bought a wide variety of music: classical, rock, country, parody, and most other genres. When this was done, he moved these to the U-haul truck before heading to a much larger blue-and-yellow building and buying more DVDs, as well as several components for computers and game systems. He then purchased a smaller portable DVD player. Once he had all of this loaded, he visited a bookstore, and this was where he truly went wild: fiction, non-fiction, history, how-to science fiction, manga, comic books, even self help books were acquired and purchased. The books he didn’t take with him were few and far between. Several times he’d had to claim he was stocking a library just to avoid the questions from the store owners. After he’d thoroughly cleared out most of the main retail stores, he spent another two hours searching for a specialty bookstore to acquire one specific book: The book of five rings by Miyamoto Musashi. He swore Twilight would have fainted from the sheer number of books he’d acquired in such a short span of time. He couldn’t wait to see that.
Finally, Taze visited a few home improvement stores, and proceeded to purchase machine-made precision tools he figured would be useful. It would be a few months before Shawn would have anywhere set up for anything advanced either in the way of tools or the other technical goods, so he kept mostly to low-tech things. Once he was satisfied, he drove the U-haul around until he found an out-of-the-way area, and got to work packing everything into his pack of holding.
Everyone stared at Conor as he literally conjured a snowball out of the air and hovered it in place while maintaining the field in question. The Vulpes family gaped in utter disbelief. Agent Simmons remained staunch and emotionless as he filmed the event with his camera, while Agent Mulder simply grinned triumphantly as he ran a hand through his brown hair. His hazel eyes seemed almost to glow with his giddiness.
“Just wait till I tell Scully about this,” Mulder said. “She’ll never believe it.”
“And she’ll never hear about it either, Mulder,” Simmons said brusquely as he glared Mulder’s way. His red eyes burned with loathing as his bushy brows furrowed together. “You know the rules. The Director may have insisted you join me on this case thanks to your more… unique experiences, but that doesn’t mean you can treat this like some of your other little stunts. Until the boys upstairs decide how to handle this, when and if they go public, then you can tell her.”
“You know, you really take a lot of fun out of the job, Simmons.”
“And you don’t take it seriously enough.”
“Um, do you guys have enough? This isn’t Equestria, you know, and that makes doing this a lot more difficult.”
Simmons eyed Conor carefully, then pressed a button on the camera and closed the recording device down. “We’ve got enough. Take a seat, kid. Mulder, get him some water.”
“But–”
“Water, Mulder. Now,” Simmons snapped. His salt-and-pepper hair had been carefully styled and shortened, so as not to allow potential adversaries a hold they could use against him. He rubbed his eyes, then put his sunglasses back on as he pulled out a notepad.
“So just to clarify here, you’re telling me that the government on this other world is divided amongst a multitude of nations, each governed by their own laws and cultural tendencies, and they’re all mythical or magical in one way or another.”
“Essentially,” Conor confirmed as Mulder returned with the glass. “Thank you,” he said after taking a sip. “In their world, everything is governed by magic, even the movement of celestial bodies.”
“And that’s where the connection to My Little Pony comes into play.”
“Exactly.”
“Mulder, make a note. I think we may need to have Ms. Faust tested for psychic potential.”
“Empathic or clairvoyant?”
“The whole spread.”
Mulder whistled. “Isn’t that a bit much?”
“Considering the parallels between the show and his story, it’s highly probable she has multiple manifestations. You’ve seen enough of what happens to most when they don’t get the help they need in time.”
Mulder sighed. “All right, Simmons.”
“Did you two have any other questions for me?”
“The powers that be. You said that these two rulers, Celestia and Luna, are the strongest?”
“Magically? Well, yes, I suppose so. I suppose Cadence is just as powerful in her own right, since she has the power to make and utilize love as an energy source. Twilight’s sort of new to the role, but once she’s been trained and adjusted to it, she’ll probably be just as powerful, if not moreso. They all had a missive of sorts to give to the government here, but Matthew… I mean, Matthew, is the one who had it.”
“And you’ve all returned at the same time?”
“Yes.”
Mulder immediately began packing up the camera and other equipment they’d brought with them for the interview.
“Thank you for your time, Mister Vulpes. We’ll be in touch,” Simmons said as he pulled out his cell phone. “In the meantime, do us a favor and don’t leave town.”
“Am I in trouble with the law or something?”
“No, but there’s likely going to be a hearing over this. There are certain protocols that have to be followed, and we’d rather keep you safe at home until then.”
“So you’re putting me under house arrest?”
“More like keeping you under surveillance. For your own protection, of course.”
“...Of course,” Conor said sardonically. “I feel safer already…”
“Good. You can expect us to contact you in about a week or so with more details.”
Mulder facepalmed as he finished disassembling the tripod.
“So that was when–” Matthew continued, talking this time about the fact that he’d been a General. They stopped when they all heard and felt the breaking of the train. A moment later it was almost like seeing an excited puppy as Matthew zipped to the windows on the right side of the train as it slowly approached the platform and the yellow wooden structure that was its ticket area. “This is so exciting! Much easier than showing up down on the plains.”
Lunar Fang looked to Mark. “Did he act this way when he lived here?”
Mark laughed. “Worse. I think he mellowed out. Did you know he could name the engine whistles on mainstreet?”
“And who taught me?” Matthew snapped back. “You got to live your dream. You run the Railroad. You run the Golden Pony Express.”
“Touché,” Mark replied with a chuckle. He frowned. “That’s odd. Agent Green is on the platform. You two stay here, and I’ll make sure the Police get on board. This is going to be a long afternoon.”
A minute later, Agent Green stood in a spare room within the ticket house, looking at the two small Ponies in almost utter disbelief. “You’re telling me, Mr. Conner, that that bat Pony…” He stopped when Lunar Fang crouched and flapped out her wings as an angry hiss left her mouth.
“Don’t you dare call me that. How would you like it if I called you…” She stopped. “What is a derogatory word to call that man?”
Matthew laughed as he looked between Agent Green and Lunar Fang. “We like being called Thestrals, not bat Ponies. Back in Equestria, that particular form of address is viewed as a form of racism. You could say that we are the blacks of the Equestrian community.”
Agent Green wrote that information down into the little notebook he held. “I will make note for all agents to know.” He looked at the car. “So, this... Thestral?” He sighed as she made another noise. “Lunar Fang.” He paused to make sure he wasn’t making another mistake. When Lunar Fang didn't object, he continued. “So Lunar Fang tried, and succeeded in, keeping from being… kidnapped? Horsenapped? I don’t know what to categorize this under.”
“She is my assistant, and wife, or mate, if you prefer. We are here on official delegation business to represent her Royal Highness Celestia and High Chieftess of all Thestrals, Patron of the moon.” Lunar Fang smacked him with a leathery wing. “...Princess Luna,” he finished quickly. “I have royal writs to be handed over to the United States government for both official reports of what happened to Matthew, and the public report that will be released, as we do not want an influx of humans trying to immigrate to Equestria, let alone a panic.” He smiled as he flicked an ear. “Then the US UN diplomat will deliver writs to the UN Council for them to start first contact.”
Lunar Fang smirked as she added the next lines. “We wish to rest and make this town our base of operations for the time being, and to meet the family members of Matthew Washington Conner to thank them for their son’s service, and to tell them the true story of what happened.” Her eyes flicked to the back as a large woman in a business suit walked onto the car. She had an FBI badge sticking boldly out of her left breast pocket, and she looked almost as though she were sucking on a lemon the way her lips puckered when she laid eyes on the Ponies, Mark, and Agent Green.
She cleared her throat in a high-pitched and instantly annoying fashion. “Hello, dears.” Regrettably, her voice was equally high-pitched. “So nice to have the chance to meet you.”
“Good to meet you, Agent...?” Matthew began, noticing the subtle change in Mark’s body language. Considering how tense the engineer had become, it was pretty clear this particular agent was not one to be trusted easily, let alone liked.
“Umbridge, dear. Darla Umbridge,” she said, giving him the fakest smile he’d ever seen. “And you are?”
“My name is Matthew. That is what I go by. I will not bore you with my titles, nor ranks. This is my wife Lunar Fang,” he answered with a grin.
“And which of you claims to be the missing party?” she asked.
“That would be me,” Matthew said. “I have papers and documentations as well as knowledge that will prove that I am, in fact, the same Matthew Conner who went missing approximately three years ago,” he said as he shot a dramatic wing at Umbridge. He had no clue why he’d just acted like Phoenix Wright, but he couldn’t take back his action now.
Mark groaned. “You never did get theatre out of your blood.”
“We’ll see soon enough, won’t we, dear?” Umbridge said a little too sweetly.
Matthew smiled happily, not catching her tone. “Indeed. And then I can find out what has happened.”
Lunar Fang looked at Umbridge. She didn’t like this woman for some reason. It unnerved her because she couldn’t place why.
“Oh, and Agent Green, we have some passengers you might want to have a word with. There was a brief misunderstanding, and Lunar Fang here had to defend herself.”
“My men are already on it,” Agent Green promised.
Agent Scully looked out the window. “Why didn’t they put Mulder on this case? I’m the doctor.” She cleared her throat. “Okay, Mr. Viginti. I hope you have a clear afternoon, because we have some questions for you that need to be answered.”
Agent Bubbles looked over at Scully with a raised eyebrow as he went back to watching the security footage dealing with Shawn and the coat. He paused to crack his knuckles before going back to work on the computer.
“As clear as can be, I guess.” Shawn frowned.
Agent Bubbles looked up, his black glasses covering his eyes. “Then we’re going to stop at the field office for a medical check up, at which point we’ll be taking you home, so you can reunite with the rest of your family for the night. Tomorrow morning, we’ll be doing interviews to find out where you went, why you came back now, if you plan to stay or leave, that sort of thing.”
“Medical check-ups?” Shawn questioned. “I’m not that scarred, am I?” he finished, bringing a hand to his chin.
“Sir, I can see multiple leftovers from lacerations, and it’s fairly obvious something happened to your right ear that required some form of skin graft. We just want to make sure everything’s shipshape before we go any further,” Scully said.
“Well, most of the damages happened a while ago, so I can assure you that I’m not going to die from these injuries anytime soon.”
“They still weren’t in the report from when you went missing. We need to make sure we have a story for each scar. Also, just for your peace of mind, your parents will be in the waiting room.”
“You want to know how I got each scar?” Shawn questioned. “That’s a bit much for me to remember…”
“Just… let us do it already. It’s typical procedure. Besides, you just came back from what, for all intents and purposes, is a foreign country. We need to test you for any foreign diseases.”
The rest of the car ride passed in silence, even with the two trying to talk and ask Shawn questions. Shawn’s parents were following behind in a second armored SUV.
Scully sighed as she peeked out the window and flicked back her red hair in an annoyed manner.
“Do we seriously have to come here? I have all the requisite materials back at my office.”
“Headquarters wants someone more… open minded at the head for this one. They believe that in your need to be skeptical, you may overlook details”
“Fine, but you’re still letting me on that team, Bubbles,” Scully responded. “They need someone with a head on their shoulders.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” Bubbles said without a hint of mirth.
“Fine,” she grumbled as she turned to Shawn and sighed. “You can either leave your coat with your parents or on one of the chairs in the examination room when we get there.”
“I think I’ll keep it near me,” Shawn replied simply.
“Headquarters also radioed ahead to warn us the military contacted them. Under no circumstances is he ever to be separated from that coat for any period of time.”
“They what?” Scully asked before shaking her head. “Fine. He can use one of the coat poles in the exam room.”
“The coat’s not to be separated from his person for any reason, Scully. The details are above your pay grade.”
Scully rolled her eyes. “Whatever, Bubbles. Let’s just get this over with.”
“And remember, Scully, we don’t need a repeat of the hospital incident. You find any artifacts, you report them immediately, are we clear?”
“Bubbles, I’m a doctor, not an archaeologist.”
Bubbles looked down at her and pulled his sunglasses down to reveal his deep-set beady black eyes with one eyebrow raised high.
The Driver kept driving, but his shoulders shook from suppressed laughter.
Thirty minutes later they were each seated inside the medical facility. The room contained plenty of tools and other pieces of medical equipment that would be needed for any situation, including an X-ray machine, CAT scanner, and others in adjoining chambers.
Shawn pulled off his coat and folded it neatly to his side. After a moment he carefully undid his vest and dress shirt, placing them on the table next to him. “So, who tries using the needles first?”
“Tries?” Scully asked with a raised brow. “You’re saying you don’t like needles?”
“Pfft. I’ve dealt with worse. I’m just wondering how the needles are going to turn out.”
“Good god, what did you do to yourself?” Scully gaped with the other physicians.
Shawn looked down at his torso. “What did I do to myself? You act like I wanted all these scars.”
“I believe the good doctor means to ask what happened to give them to you,” Agent Bubbles clarified.
“A few battles, a war or two, and a torture session,” Shawn replied simply.
“Wars? Just who with?” Bubbles asked intently as he removed his shades.
“The Gryphon Empire.”
“I think you’re going to have a lot to tell us.”
Shawn sighed. “I’ll tell you more after the check-up, yeah?”
The doctors proceeded to tie up Shawn’s arm using the typical rubber tie, only to discover that Shawn’s skin wouldn’t give.
“... These must be old,” one doctor casually stated.
“We don’t do old supplies, Doc,” Bubbles said pointedly.
“Try putting more pressure,” Shawn shrugged.
“We already have,” the doctor pointed out. Three more bands had been tied over the first.
“Try more pressure.”
“Look, try using this pressure ball, okay?”
Shawn simply looked to the pressure ball before applying pressure. “So, I just put-”
The pressure ball burst apart with a loud pop.
After a brief moment he opened his hand to reveal the remains. “I thought it was supposed to take a lot of pressure before bursting…”
“It was,” Scully said, shocked. “Doctor, just how much pressure was that ball manufactured to take?”
“Something far more than humanly possible,” the doctor said. “Just how did you get so strong?”
“By working out, and additional help from a thaumic field.”
“A what?” Scully asked.
“A field of natural energy surrounding myself allowing manipulation of the base properties of natural forces, primarily creation and destruction,” Shawn explained as though it was simple. “It can also enhance the wielder in strength, speed, and endurance.”
“Seriously?” Scully asked skeptically.
“Yes. I mean, there is more to it, but I feel this is enough to explain the situation.”
“Energy manipulations aside, I believe it’s time we just went with the old fashioned approach,” the doctor said as he prepped the clamp and got the biggest needle he could to prep for the insertion. “Would you mind clenching your hand into a fist a few times? Just to get the blood flowing. I need to feel where your veins are.”
Shawn did as requested.
After a time, the doctor prepared, placed the needle against the skin, and shoved. He hovered there with his back turned for a good minute or so.
“Is there a problem, Doctor?” Scully asked.
“It seems the troops may not have been far off from the mark when they named him,” the doctor said as he turned to reveal a blunted tip that had curled in on itself, and a very much twisted needle.
“Seems a more... practical solution may be in order,” Bubbles said.
“Just take little knife and cut into my arm… jeez,” Shawn sighed. “At least that would work easier.”
“You’re asking us to cut into your veins, where one of your main arteries is located, just like that?” the doctor exclaimed.
“I won’t die from it, so go for it.”
“Your parents would kill us. You’d need to sign a waiver before we try anything like that,” Scully said pointedly.
“If you don’t do it, I’ll grab one of my knives and do it myself,” Shawn replied.
“We’d be obligated to stop you before you could,” Scully said pointedly.
“Then bring me a waiver so we can get this over with.” Shawn groaned.
One waiver later...
“There. Now cut me open.”
“You’re sure you don’t want any anesthetic?” Scully asked.
“I lost most feeling after the torture session. Just get on with it.”
The scalpel ran across his skin, but no blood was drawn. It hardly left so much as a scratch.
“It’s… dull,” Scully said, her eyes wide as she tested the edge.
Shawn groaned once more as he grabbed his coat and reached deep into one of his pockets. After a moment he pulled out a sharp knife before placing it on the table. “There! Real blade!”
“I’m going to find out how you did that one day, you know,” she said pointedly as she grabbed the dagger’s hilt and ran it over Shawn’s skin. As she did so, a red line began to form as the blood welled out before steam rose up to fill the air. More than a few of the doctors either looked on in interest or fainted outright.
“Oh, it’s not boiling anymore.”
“How do you even function?” Scully cried.
“Very easily. Now collect some of this before it sears shut.”
“...You’re serious.”
“Very.”
Scully quickly jabbed a needle into the site and the blood began to flow up the thick plastic to the tie. She then attached the first of a series of beakers to the tube before releasing the clamp and letting the hot blood flow. In a matter of minutes, and after more than a few re-openings of said site, they finally had a full panel to test.
“Get this down to the labs ASAP,” Scully ordered. “And as for you,” she said with a glare. “I have some questions.”
Shawn shrugged. “Go ahead.”
Taze did one last check of the U-haul before he left it, making sure all his things were removed, and the truck was in the same condition as when he rented it. Once he was satisfied, he closed the vehicle and dropped the keys in the slot left for late returns. After that, he headed to the taxi he’d hired to meet him at the hub, and told the driver where to drop him off. He also offered a hefty tip to get him there quickly with no questions asked.
He arrived a quarter of an hour later at a small restaurant a few miles outside the city. He’d never known the place’s actual name. It wasn’t on the buildings outside, just an advertisement for snacks and food. It was remote enough to be away from prying eyes. Behind the building, he stowed his shoes, and then flipped his ruby. Several minutes later, Grif took to the air headed northwest of the city as he gained altitude.
It was the first time Taze had ever had a chance to look down at the countryside from above. And while the wind here was thicker than Equestria, Grif still found the feeling freeing as he propelled himself above the fields and small bluffs between them. He enjoyed the feeling of his wings and feathers, as well as the feeling of speed blasting across his face.
Vast stretches of farmland and countryside with bluffs of trees and only small settlements dotted the area North of Winnipeg. This late at night, Grif was fairly safe from prying eyes as he passed the countryside. He landed on a farm a mile north of his home town, and, after changing back, googled a name using his new smart phone. When he had the number, he called it, hoping above hope the person who would pick up still lived here.
“Hello?”
“Nathan?” Taze asked faintly, almost surprised.
“Yeah?” the voice was confused. Taze then remembered he had used English so sparingly, his accent had made him sound Turkish.
“Nathan, you're not going to believe this, but it’s Taze. I need a place to stay.”
“Taze? Taze wasn’t Turkish, and he went missing years ago. I don’t know who this is, but this is si—”
“James Nathaniel Hanson. We were friends from fourth grade, and I lent you more money than any of us willingly would ever admit. You’re not going to hang up that phone.”
“You’d better be Taze, or I’m going to have to kill you,” he said. “No one outside my family knows that name.” The voice grunted. “Fine. Give me your location, and I’ll come get you.”
Taze sighed, looked up his location with the cell phone’s GPS, and told the address. Then he hung up the phone and took several deep breaths. He was most definitely not looking forward to the long explanation that was to come.
Matthew sat in the most absurd situation he could ever dread experiencing. His Great Aunt Selma had arrived… in her reproduction horse-drawn farm wagon. So here he was, sitting with Lunar Fang, facing agents Green and Umbridge in the straw-covered back. His brother was sitting up with his Great Aunt, and his niece Elizebeth was currently braiding Lunar Fang’s mane while giggling and speaking, and he couldn’t understand her. Of course, the girl was only about four years old, so it made sense that she hadn’t quite developed enough to speak properly yet. He did catch her singing My Little Pony, though, so she must have watched the show.
“Mark taught you well.” Matthew sighed.
Agent Green chuckled as he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a candy bar.
“Green, don’t go spoiling my daughter,” Mark said pointedly without turning his head.
“Whatever you say, cousin,” Green replied with a chuckle.
“COUSIN?” Matthew yelped.
“Oh, right,” Mark started with a laugh. “Agent Green is engaged to Cousin Sally.”
“Sally, you mean little Sally who wanted to become a deputy sheriff?”
“Oh she’s been deputy sheriff for a while now. She plans on running for sheriff this election,” Selma said with a kindly laugh that brought a yellow brick road and a woman floating in a bubble to mind.
“Hrm hrm.” Umbridge was clearly faking clearing her throat. “Agent Green, while I am happy things are going so well for you, you should remember we’re here on government business first.”
“I know.” He pointed to his pocket. “I just thought it would be good to test a few things,” he said as he stretched.
“I can hear the whirring of the tape recorder,” Matthew answered flatly. “As well as… well, I cannot describe the sound that I…” he paused. “Digital,” he said rustily. “The digital recorder that is in your handbag, Agent Umbridge, and another one is up with my Great Aunt Selma.”
Elizebeth, having grown bored with styling Lunar Fang’s mane, immediately shifted her attention to Matthew. Her eyes grew wide as she noticed his wings. “Fly Pony? Bird Pony! Bird Pony!” she shouted with glee as she moved to touch them.
Matthew quickly moved his wing out of the way. “Gently, Little Liz. Gently,” he told her. He was surprised to feel the sensation of her hand running over his feathers. Elizabeth simply giggled as she continued to pet the feathers and enjoy the soft tickling sensation they provided.
“Pony fly ride?” she asked. In the ensuing silence, with her young mind, Elizabeth took her chance and started to climb on Matthew’s back. After all, nobody had told her she couldn’t.
“Not now,” Matthew spoke quickly as he did his best to shy away from her, only to feel the weight as she laid down on top of him.
“Okay,” Elizabeth said disappointedly. She didn’t get off, however, and continued to run her hand lazily through his feathers and fur. “Soft…” she sighed. Her strokes gradually grew slower and slower until she nodded off entirely.
“Shush,” he grumbled as he glared at the old brown stallion pulling the cart. It had snorted and whickered at the sounds, almost as if it were laughing at him and his indecision. On the one hand, he was a Pony who didn’t like being ridden. On the other hand, this girl was also his niece, and he loved her. The two parts of his mind immediately began to debate over the pros and cons of their situation.
“Just to let you know, she still likes flying. She gets excited whenever a plane lands at Lorimer Field,” Mark said.
“So Uncle Cloud won the vote to keep that up?” Matthew asked.
Mark and Selma shared a wince, and Matthew’s ears wilted.
“Oh...”
“Excuse me, but we have tests to perform,” Agent Umbridge said. “We need to confirm the subject's identity.”
“Then ask away and test away. I doubt a DNA test would work, though,” Matthew quipped with a chuckle, which Mark promptly joined.
“Lady, you have no idea what you’re stepping into,” Mark warned, then chuckled again as Umbridge fixed him with a glare before returning her gaze to Matthew.
“What was the year the United States officially declared their independence?” she began.
“The fourth of July, year of declaration 1776; however, the full document was signed on the second of August of that same year.”
“What was the flooring of the Titanic discovered to be?”
“Which part? The Grand Staircase was linoleum. Parts of the deck were teak, other parts were steel. Then others were hardwoods covered by carpeting. She is a large ship, so she had many different types of flooring, including the famous floor tiling that came from Germany. Not only did they use it on the Olympic class ships, but you can still find examples of it in the Harland and Wolff Shipyards. Also…”
“I think we get it, Matt,” Mark answered with a laugh. “You sure you want to keep asking the Titanic questions, Ma’am?” he asked as he turned to look at Agent Green and Agent Umbridge.
Agent Green laughed. “One last question. Was it true that the fault of the wreck was solely on the shoulders of the Capta–” He didn’t even get to finish his question as, for the rest of the journey, the Pegasus gave a spirited defense over Captain Smith, Murdock, and the rest of the crew and company for the Titanic and the White Star Line. Lunar Fang stared in wonderment. She hadn’t seen her husband this worked up since Mountainside Falls.
Agent Green smiled as he leaned back midway through the rant and looked to Umbridge with a victorious smirk. “I think this is our guy.” He would later regret choosing that particular subject, as the journey took another hour, and Matthew had no end of resources and historical facts to use in his argument in defending his heros.
Conor sighed as he added the chocolate chips to the cookie dough and flipped the mixer on to blend everything together for the dough’s inevitable trip to the oven. A sad smile traced across his lips as he recalled the familiar giggle of a certain pink Earth Pony and her crazy antics since his first arrival in Equestria. That inevitably led to his memory of the Demos and the rest of their mercenary bands. His cookies were a real hit on that front, and he couldn’t help but laugh as he recalled how Advanced Scout and his doppelganger kept harassing him about the baking taking so long. He quickly wiped the tear streak before it could drop and spoil his recipe. He was home now, and there were responsibilities he had to take care of here.
“You doing alright, Son?” Conor’s father asked from his place in one of the ottomans in the adjacent room. He’d laid aside the guitar he’d been playing and placed it on a stand to look Conor over.
“Fine, Dad. Just… thinking about some friends is all.”
“From that other place?”
Conor nodded. “We had some good memories there, and… maybe some not-so-nice ones, but it felt a lot like a second home.”
“You’re lucky they found you.”
“I’m thinking luck had little to do with it,” Conor said as he turned off the mixer and removed the beater from the bowl before scraping the extra cookie dough off the beater to add to the rest. “I think someone or something wanted me there.”
“And that someone or something helped you to save a life?”
“Maybe. I didn’t really do all that much.”
“You jumped off a wall that had to be at least two or three stories high. That’s not exactly nothing.”
“Fair point,” Conor agreed as he started to scoop the dough onto the cookie sheets. “I don’t know. I guess I just feel sort of lost. It’s like I left a piece of myself back there.”
“Maybe you did. You have a tendency to invest yourself in people once you develop a proper relationship with them, Son. And more often than not, those people are changed for the better because of that relationship. I don’t think you’ll need to worry about them forgetting you, and you certainly won’t be forgetting them any time soon,” he noted. “Is there a reason why you decided to shape your cookies into frizzy Ponies?”
“Do what now?” Conor did a double take as he stared down at the cookie sheets. Sure enough, there was a perfect outline of a grinning Pinkie Pie staring at him in fifteen perfect copies. Then he chuckled, and then he broke into a full blown laugh, even as tears fell down his cheeks.
“Conor?”
“It… it’s Pinkie Pie, Dad. It’s better not to question it,” he said between chuckles. “Thanks, Pinkie,” he said to himself as he scooped out the second tray and put both into the oven. “I needed that.”
Conor’s father chuckled. “Whoever this Pinkie is, she sounds like quite the character.”
“Oh, you have no idea,” Conor replied.
“Come on. Why don’t you go relax with your mom and sister. Another episode of Miss Fisher is on tonight, and I think you could use the break. I can finish up here.”
“Are you sure, Dad?”
“Positive. Now go. Have some fun. Your mother wants to spend some time with her son again.”
Conor hugged his father. “Thanks, Dad.”
“Any time, Son. Any time. Now get.”
“Yes, Sir.”
And with that, Conor made his way to the television room to enjoy the companionship of two of the most important people in his world.
Conor’s dad turned back to the spare pans, only to gape as the balls of dough had been reshaped into more figurines, including a Gryphon, a Minotaur, a Dragon, a Pegasus, a Unicorn, four different alicorns, a zebra, and what looked to be five Kitsune.
“How did…? When…?” He scratched his head as he took the pans and placed them in the ovens before setting the timer and going to join his family. As he left the kitchen, a playful giggle tinkled in the air, just beyond their range of hearing.
“Mission accomplished, Gummie. Great job!”
That one time the borders of Equestria had been guarded by a proud corps of warriors who had been specially trained to keep all intruders out of Equestria. Sadly, when the demilitarization happened, the border warriors had been reduced to a handful of ill-trained guards who, for the most part, sat around playing cards. It was because of this that none of them felt the faint but present rumbling from the ground as Changelings tunneled with a single willed passion in the direction of New Unity. One hundred thousand drones strong, the army moved masses of dirt at astounding speed as it sped towards the home of the enemy.
<Tell me, Tunneler,> Chrysalis’ thoughts echoed through the hive mind, drowning out the myriads of small humming voices that filled it with their shallow thoughts save for the few small pinpricks that made up the drones Chrysalis allowed intelligence for her purposes. <How long before we can breach the surface?>
<Not long, my queen,> tunneler responded with fanatical fervor. <A day and a half at the most, and then we shall be able to break the surface and proceed at a march less than a day from the destroyer’s fortress.>
<Good. Very good,> Chrysalis’ thoughts purred. <Soon we will take our enemies’ fortress by storm. And then, with such a mighty hive, Equestria will be ours for the taking! Dig onward for my glory!> Chrysalis ordered from her place at the rear of the swarm. The changeling queen stood on a chariot of reformed chitin pulled by two behemoths.
<All glory to the queen!> Tunneler agreed as he pressed his will to his siblings, bidding them to dig all the faster.
“So, what questions have you got?” Shawn asked as he stretched.
“How do you function? Your temperature doesn’t make any sense,” Scully spoke. “I have tried six thermometers in five different locations
“They only said it was One forty-seven,” Shawn replied, confused. “Wait, what was considered normal temperature?”
“Ninety Eight degrees Fahrenheit, or thirty-six point six six seven degrees Celsius.”
“...Wow. That’s low.”
“That’s normal for humans,” One of the doctors replied, not seeing the disapproving look he got from Agent Bubbles
“I’ve had the high temperature for ages now. I think since the first year I arrived.”
“How?” Scully asked. “For all intents and purposes, you should be dead. Your organs should have overheated by now and shut down. For all we know, they still are. We need another round of tests at this rate, figure out the genetic makeup, see if we can’t get you back down to normal again.”
“Most likely from the disguise transformation. As for more blood, I thought you got plenty?”
“We’ve already had to use unusual methods to acquire the blood we already have, Scully. I don’t think headquarters would approve of taking more,” Agent Bubbles said as he fixed Scully a glare.
“The agent does have a point, but how about some hair? We should still be able to get a genetic map from that,” one of the other doctors said.
Shawn shrugged. “Go for it. Just try to keep things even.”
“Do you have sheers we can use to cut it?” a scientist asked. The other doctors remembered only too well what Shawn’s skin had done to the needles and scalpels.
“Just use scissors,” Shawn replied, completely confused. “It’s just hair, man.”
To their shock, scissors worked. They quickly took the hairs away to test.
Scully sighed as she sat down in one of the rolling chairs. “Bubbles, please get the parents. I think we should start the questions. Those tests will take a while, at least a couple days.”
“Smart move, Scully.” Bubbles responded. “We should only keep him till dinner, and then let them go with some money for their troubles. Give them time to catch up in a more intimate setting.” He returned moments later with Shawn's parents, and everyone sat down. “So, Mister Viginti, let’s start with something basic. What was your age at the time you vanished?”
“I think I was twenty-six,” Shawn replied after a moment. “Or something close to that. Been a long time for me since then.”
“And what is your age now?”
“Physical, or true age?”
“Yes.”
“Let’s see, I’m still physically twenty-six, but I dealt with a process that kept me from aging for… awhile. Like, an additional forty years I think it was,” he hummed aloud.
“How? That makes no sense. You can’t be mentally older than you are physically,” Scully objected.
“Nothing about me makes sense,” Shawn replied. “You think that’s strange, you should hear about the transformation charm on my wrist!” he finished, holding up his arm to reveal the golden bracelet with an anvil-shaped ruby.
“Transformation?” Scully scuffed. “You’re pulling our legs. The mass–”
A flash of light later revealed Shawn as a Pony. Hammer Strike sat on the table with a frown on his face. “You think that’s crazy? I’ve got more.”
Scully just stood there looking at Bubbles, and then at the parents, and then back to the Pony on the table. It became all too clear that most of the damage they saw on him before happened in this different form.
“What, did you expect the locals to look Human in another reality?”
Mary and Hans stared in shock.
“But the… damage. It looks worse here,” Scully said, before saying her first legitimate question. “Is this where it all came from?”
“Yeah. This is where it happened.” The ear with the missing tip gave a faint twitch. After a moment he turned the gem once again, and transitioned back into his human form.
Suddenly, he found his mother’s arms hugging him tightly around the neck as she cried, kissing his forehead. “Did you at least bury them in your blueprints? Or did you take after my mother?”
“I’ve done a bit of everything.” He reached over to his coat and searched through his pockets.
“Well, good thing I called the family for dinner tomorrow,” Hans said with a laugh.
After a moment, Shawn grinned. “There it is. My first–” he pulled out a Colt 1911. “...That’s not my first gun. I made something else…”
“Well Mom would still be impressed,” Hans chuckled.
“If you don’t mind, we’d like to take possession of that. The base wants their weapons back,” Scully said.
“What?”
“The base is missing at least ten M9 Berettas, five M-16s, three M4s, one SAW, and even an old M-1911 Government Model pistol.”
“I don’t even know where to start searching for them… The pockets are kinda… endless?” Shawn said as he placed the 1911 down. A moment later, it was gone, and no one knew where it went.
Scully huffed. “I don’t believe you.” She moved to reach her hand into the pocket.
Before she could make it anywhere near, Shawn proceeded to grab his coat and push his entire arm into the pocket, up to his shoulder.
“Well, now you really can clean your room,” Mary laughed. “Although moving would be a breeze for you, I bet.”
After a few moments of shuffling around, Shawn pulled out his flintlock pistol. “There’s the first firearm!”
“Yeah, your grandma would be impressed. Might give you tips on how to improve it, but that looks like it can survive being used.”
“I made it to match the … current arms tech level of society for Equis. Next comes a revolver…”
“What? No plans on bringing them into the 21st century?” His father asked with a flat expression.
“I could barely remember how to put an engine together, let alone make one from scratch again.”
“Come on, how do you plan on fixing up anything mechanical if you can remember the basics?”
“An internal combustion engine is not basic!”
Scully looked to Bubbles. “Are we sure this family was normal to begin with?”
“The entire family has careers in crafting pretty much anything,” Bubbles said with a shrug. “In fact, he was a carpenter before he vanished.”
“Anyways,” Shawn diverted from the conversation, “what else do you guys want to know?”
“Were the locals hostile to you in any way?” Bubbles asked.
“No. They were worried at first, because there are no Humans there, but they were friendly. The only problem I had was we arrived near the time of a wedding when a group of infiltrators showed up and tried to take over the capital.”
“Did they conscript you to fight, or did you fight of your own accord?”
“I fought on my own, funny enough, with the decorative blade I showed up with. They thought it was real and dull, so they sharpened it.”
“Were you alone?” Scully asked as she looked at a clipboard.
“No, I arrived alongside two others.”
Scully paused as she looked at another paper, before looking at Bubbles.
“And I’m going to assume you won’t be sharing any information regarding those two?”
“Perhaps next time, eh?”
“What do you mean?” Scully asked, not knowing that Bubbles had already guessed the reason why.
“I can’t stay here,” Shawn replied. “My internal organs are being held together by the field of energy I mentioned earlier. Enough damage happened to where the field is the only thing keeping me alive, and it’s slowly dying here.”
“How long do you think you have?” Scully asked
“I have a couple days that I’ll be here before I’m pulled back to Equis.”
Agent bubbles looked at him, then to his parents, who had surprised and worried looks. He retrieved some papers from somewhere in his massive black suit jacket and handed them to Shawn. “Fill these out when you have time, and go spend time with your loved ones.”
“You can’t do that. We can’t just let him walk into the world. We need more facts, more data before we can–” Scully stopped abruptly as Bubbles glared at her through his sunglasses.
“I am well within my rights, Agent Scully. I’ve been put in charge of this investigation, and I don’t see the sense in forcing undue stress and pain on him and his family. He says his time is limited, then I won’t stand in his way. Should he be lying, we’d be well aware. Now stand down, agent.”
Scully looked at the group before sighing. “Very well, but can we do another scan tomorrow night outside?”
Shawn shrugged. “Sure, whatever works for you guys.”
“So... “ Hans started. “Dinner?”
“...Can we go for a burger? I haven’t had a cheeseburger in years,” Shawn said as his mouth watered at the thought.
Matthew had taken a merciful breath, granting his captive audience relief as Agent Green watched the sleeping girl on the Pegasus’ back. The agent braced himself for the next volley in the Pegasus’ spirited defense, when they pulled up to a large three-story building with a white wrap-around porch. A woman stood up there with her hands on her hips as she glared in the cart’s direction. “You stop talking about the Titanic right now! I could hear you from half a mile away.”
Mark broke up laughing. “Oh man. I haven’t heard her do that in years.”
Matthew blinked in surprise, and craned his neck up over the edge of the wagon. “How? I wasn’t that loud!”
The woman made her way down the steps. She was dressed in jeans and a dusty T-shirt, and was busy wiping her hands on a towel. Her face had been lined by age and worry, but some of them disappeared as her mouth pulled up into a knowing smile. “Because I read half of those questions, and all of them would have set Matthew off. Honestly, were you two trying to lose your minds?” She looked to Agent Umbridge and chuckled. “I warned you about the Titanic.”
“You also said it was the best subject to identify your son,” Umbridge retorted.
“One of. One of. I said the Titanic would get the most animated response, but then again, so would insulting the founding fathers, or talking poorly about the military.” She paused. “History, for my son, was a very passionate subject.”
“Well,” Agent Green responded as he hopped out of the wagon and moved to lower the back like he would the gate on a pickup truck. “I have to warn you. Your son has changed.”
“Changed? What do you–?” She cut herself off as the back flipped down and the two equines were revealed. The one of the left had her granddaughter sleeping on its back. It perked both ears up, and it smiled as it spoke up in its British accent. “Hello, Mom. I’m ... I’m home, and … well, a lot has happened.”
To Agent Umbridge’s annoyance, Matthew’s Mother did not faint. Instead, she put both fists on her hips. “You tell me what happened to you right this instant, young man.”
“I almost died, and I am stuck in this body,” Matthew responded bluntly. He looked down, and his ears twitched as they picked up his mother’s footsteps as she raced towards him. Then the wagon shifted as she climbed in and threw her arms around his neck. This act woke young Elizebeth up, who, upon seeing her grandmother hugging the Pony, joined in as well.
“Mom … you’re strangling me,” he wheezed. The death grip loosened, but she didn’t let go, even as he felt the tears on his fur. “I’ll tell you what I can.”
“You will tell me everything,” his mom insisted.
Selma got down from the driver’s bench. “He saw battle, Nancy.”
“He what?”
“I know that look,” Selma said. “His eyes are like Scott’s. He’s seen combat.”
Nancy looked down at the Pony in her arms. “You’re going to tell me everything, young man. We’ll make an exception to the war rule just this once.” She looked at everyone in the wagon. “Alright, everyone out. I want to spend time with my son. And Mark, tell your father he’s cooking dinner tonight.” She looked at the Ponies. “How much meat can you stomach?”
She watched the Pony next to her son smile and bare her fangs. Her southern belle accent rang lightly on the air. “We eat meat, and we hunt meat as well. You see, I’m what we call a Thestral. Not sure if y’all have heard of us before, but we do eat meat. That’ll be part of the story.”
“And who are you?” Nancy asked.
“She’s my wife,” Matthew answered.
Nancy turned around, and the look she gave him chilled his bones, before she turned to look at the mare more closely. “So, how long?”
Lunar Fang smiled. “You have one grandfoal, with another on its way.” She put her hoof on her belly.
The expression Nancy went through ranged from disbelief to annoyance, to a grin. “I have to see. Where is my… grandfoal, was it?”
“Uh,” Matthew began, “she couldn’t come for security reasons.” He chuckled nervously. “That is another reason why I need to tell you what happened.”
“I think we’d all appreciate knowing this story,” Umbridge said almost greedily.
“I'll go get Green’s fiancé,” Mark started with a chuckle, before Aunt Selma raised a hand. “Get the whole clan. We’ll meet at Cloud’s outdoor bleachers.” Her eyes turned flinty. “I don’t think we’d do Matthew any favors if we make him repeat his story every fifteen minutes.”
The Niece associated Cloud with flying, and immediately jumped back to her original desire as she bounced up and down on Matthew’s back. “Up. Up. Fly!” she cried.
“Not till you get a harness, young lady,” Matthew muttered sharply. He grunted as he felt her bouncing disturbing his feathers. “Also, be still, or you’ll get no Pony ride at all.”
With that threat understood, she immediately stopped.
“You?” Lunar Fang whispered, forgetting she was wearing the pendant. “How can you degrade your post?”
“Because she’s my niece, and she wants a Pony ride. I gave them when I was human. Now I will give the best Pony rides of all her uncles and cousins.”
Lunar Fang slapped her leathery wing to her muzzle.
“Besides, by the time we get set up, she’ll be going back to sleep. At least, I hope.”
Matthew looked around and caught the unpleasant expression on Umbridge’s face. He decided he was going to keep an eye on this one. He moved and wrapped his hooves around his mother and smiled as he closed his eyes. “We are very happy to have a mother to hug again.”
Nancy was startled and looked at the two. The words sounded much more painful than just being homesick for a few years. “You tell me what that means right now, young man. No waiting.”
Lunar Fang immediately realized where Matthew got his fangs from. “It’s… hard to explain. Due to circumstances involving some very strange creatures, he ended up living a second life from the age of a foal, and grew to be a stallion. He was also flung back in time, so he lived during a bloody part of our history. Unfortunately, he lost the entire village he was raised in, and all his adopted family with it.” She tried to grasp words, before shaking her head. “A brother, a sister, his parents, his mayor, the baron of the land, everything he grew up with. He only had a grandmother and his Thestral tribe to fall back on, and…” She found her own eyes watering as she looked at his smile, “I haven’t seen him this peaceful ever.”
His mother looked down and kissed him between the eyes on his equine head before running her fingers over the wet streaks on his fur. “Come on. Dry those tears. We have to hear your story. You can cry all you want when we’re back inside the house.”
“You know,” Nathan said, looking at Taze as he sat back on the couch. They were at his apartment building, and Nathan’s roommates were conveniently out at the moment, which allowed Taze to spill his story. “This sounds completely impossible, but honestly, that's why I can’t be sure it’s not true.”
“Nathan, I can lie better than this. You know I can. I have proof, but I think we’ve been through far too much together for you to need that,” Taze replied. “I just need a bed tonight, and for you to keep the fact that you saw me quiet. I don’t think that's too much to ask for.”
Nathan stared at him quietly. He was a chubbier, but well-built man only slightly younger than Taze with reddish blond hair and a large scruffy beard. His eyes held a strange light to them, like there was always something he knew that others didn’t.
“Fine,” he sighed, “but you’d better keep a low profile. I’m not sure if you could keep anyone else quiet.”
“I’ll be fine. Here.” Taze placed some cash on the table, then grinned. “I’ll even pay for supper tonight.”
That seemed to ease any questions. An hour later, the two were enjoying video games and pizza. Well, Nathan was enjoying the pizza. Taze was doing his best to act like it. It was around ten thirty when he made his exit, claiming he’d be back later.
Making his way outside, he moved behind a bush and twisted the ruby on his gauntlet. Fortunately, Nathan’s apartment building was on the outskirts of town, and with the lessening light, no one could make him out as he took to the air and flew west. Rather than make a Beeline for his home, he first took a few flights around the countryside. He needed to eat something halfway decent, and too his luck, he managed to slay a deer in one of the fields using the shortbow he’d stowed in his pack. After dressing and cleaning the kill, he buried the refuse and carried the rest off to a small clearing in a wooded area. Then, using some equestrian salt and a few other herbs he’d stowed, he managed to make a passable stew. He feasted readily on the fresh meat until he was satisfied before wrapping and stowing the remains.
With his real dinner finished, he performed several flybys of his home, a large farmhouse with an attic and a basement surrounded by four square acres of yard. Several tin-covered sheds were placed sporadically by the previous occupants, as well as a small single-car garage and a large red barn. The front and sides of the yard were closed off by a row of tall proud evergreens, and the back was separated from the adjacent field by a mass of thin poplar trees. A single large white figure stood out in the dark, making out the family’s great bernese.
Deep in Taze’s mind, a longing to go down and just enter the home burned small, but intense, yet he knew it wasn’t the time. He wasn’t ready, and if he saw his family now, he might not have the strength to turn away.
“Yours is the path of the lynchpin,” a familiar voice said with a giggle.
Conor darted around to see the familiar muzzle of a certain fortune teller. What he did not expect to see was the human outline that stood around it like an aura.
“Angela?”
“Are you ready?” She giggled, then danced out of sight with the sound of tinkling bells.
“You need to concentrate, Vital Spark! That water won’t sculpt itself.” A familiar work table appeared before him, and suddenly Conor found himself standing on all fours in the magic lab.
“Clover?”
“Of course it’s me. Who else were you expecting? Celestia?”
“But …”
She sighed and rolled her eyes. “If you can’t even get this right, how can you expect to do the bigger things down the line?”
“What bigger things?”
He didn’t get the chance to hear her answer as the familiar room blurred to become the cozy wooden hut Zecora kept within her tree. He stared into the green vapors coming from the stew. The vapors filled the room, and when they cleared, he found himself playing his violin under the moonlight in the Everfree.
“It seems you are troubled by something not done. Perhaps it is best to just let the course run.”
“Zecora?”
The wise Zebra smiled. “It is good to see you, Vital Spark. Your kind smile always lights up the dark.”
“What’s going on? Why am I dreaming about all of you? Why can’t I wake up?”
Zecora simply smiled sadly. “That is something I cannot say. Look to your heart. It knows the way.”
“Seriously? That’s what you have to tell me?”
Zecora embraced him. “You should know that I am not truly here. I am a ghost sent to help calm your fear. You yet have a choice to make, and your nerves drove your dreams to this form to take.”
“The prophecy.”
“Exactly,” Zecora agreed. “Some will win, and some will lose, but how much and how long is for you to choose.” Then she stepped back a ways. “I know you are ready. Stand firm. Be steady.”
“Zecora!”
The world was shrouded by mists for a brief time as the world blurred and reformed again. This time, Black Rook glared down at him as he pushed up against the ground.
“A soldier doesn’t hesitate when a decision comes. He can’t afford to.”
“But I’m not a soldier!”
“You trained like one. You worked hard, you did your best, and you had faith in a future you didn’t know could happen. So stop being so scared and just do what you think is right.”
“But how will I know when the time comes?” Conor panted.
Rook shrugged. “Maybe you won’t. Maybe it already happened. Maybe it’s right around the corner. Does it really matter?”
“It does to me!” Conor lurched to his feet. He felt the tears run down his cheeks. “I don’t want the people I love to get hurt.”
“You don’t know that we will.”
“Is that a chance I can take?”
“Every choice is a chance. The question is, are you courageous enough to make it when the time comes, or will you shy away from it?”
“I… don’t know.”
“Let me level with you, Conor. I know how hard it is to make a big call. I’ve had to do my fair share as a commanding officer with the cadets. It’s better to make your decision and face the consequences than to never make the decision at all.”
“But–”
“No buts,” Rook cut in. “Just act.” He rose up and yanked Conor down to his level. “Now answer me. Are you ready?”
“I… I don’t feel ready.”
Rook chuckled. “Good. That usually means that you are.”
“What?”
“You know what, colt. Now fall out. You’ve got more to see tonight. Men, let’s run!”
Conor’s world was enveloped by dust as the Ponies raced across the dirt. When it cleared, he was surrounded by four thrones, and on each sat a princess.
“It is difficult, is it not, when one feels the burden of fate?” Celestia asked with her kindly smile.
“Now now, dear sister, fate has little to do with this. He simply has a decision to make. That is all.”
“But what do I do if I choose wrong?”
“You already know the answer to that,” Cadence said with a giggle.
“Indeed,” Luna agreed. “You learn from the mistake, as I have, as we both have,” Luna said as she flared her wings. The shadow of Nightmare Moon rose up behind her before her horn glowed and the shadow returned to normal.
“Conor, take some advice from a girl who’s already been where you are now. The worrying is only going to make things worse in the long run. I can’t tell you how many times Spike’s had to threaten to burn one of my books to get me to take some time to relax.”
“Seriously?” Conor cocked a brow.
“How should I know? It’s your head. I’m just saying what the real Spike would probably do to get the real me to actually take a breath for once. And he’s usually right.”
“And what about all of you? What if I never get to see you again?”
“Oh, now don’t be ridiculous,” Rarity said as she barged into the council room. “You, of all people, should know Shawn wouldn’t leave it like that. It might take some time, but he’ll find a way for us to keep in touch. Besides, we’ll want to be able to send you pictures of the wedding.”
Conor chuckled. “You’re relentless.”
“Naturally. Anything for a friend,” she said proudly. “Now, are you ready to stop being so worried about all this? You said so yourself before, sometimes you just have to believe things will work for the best, and work hard for that outcome. That’s what I did with my shop, and look where it’s gotten me. And I do believe Princess Luna already pointed out what happens when things don’t work out.”
“I believe it’s time for him to move on,” Celestia said.
“Yes, I quite agree, Sister,” Luna said. The other princesses nodded their heads. Their horns glowed, and the room was suddenly encompassed with light. When it faded, everything was gone, and Conor stood on a plain wooden floor.
The familiar form of a large housecat sat lazily on the floor with his tail flicking behind him. He smiled at Conor, revealing his pointed teeth.
“It seems your mind is everywhere tonight.”
“And now I’m facing you.”
“Yes. Strange that I should come up, isn’t it? What kind of help could I be?” he wondered. “Still, I guess I could ask what your mind is trying to show you.”
“Honestly, I don’t exactly know. I guess part of it is the anxiety of fate. No matter what I do, I’m going to impact someone heavily, and I’m worried it could ruin things for them.”
Yes. I suppose the smart move would be to put aside everyone else, think about what you want, and what you can live with. Either path has its advantages.”
“I don’t even know if that choice is the choice,” Conor countered. “And besides, the others wouldn’t let me come back with them. They don’t want me to be trapped there like they are.”
“If you really believed that, you wouldn’t be here right now.” The cat licked his paw nonchalantly. “Without choice there is little reason to worry.”
Conor sighed. “I guess that’s the toughest part.”
“Besides. What will your true love do if you leave her behind?”
Conor groaned. “I’m human!”
“And I’m a werecat!” he rolled his eyes. The difference is I’ve always been a werecat and will always be a werecat. You haven’t always been human, nor, if you choose the correct path, will you always be a human.”
“And by correct, you mean …?”
“I mean if you choose a specific path, you will spend significantly less time as a human than if you pick the other.”
“Well, I guess that’s true.” He sighed.
“There is no shame in turning away from it,” the werecat offered. “Your path should be your own.”
“I just don’t know what path I want.”
“Well, seventy two hours remain,” Solumbum purred. “Dawn of the first day.” And then he was gone.
Conor awoke to see familiar, yet unfamiliar surroundings. The pillowcase felt rough against his skin, and his neck was killing him, but despite the pain, the first words out of his mouth were, “Did Solembum just take from Zelda?”
Shawn sighed as he took a seat. Having eaten dinner, and questioned why nothing seemed to taste quite right, he was now home, in a way.
“So, I guess I’m staying here for the next few days,” he said. “Considering my stuff most likely went to you guys when my bills suddenly stopped being paid, did you happen to keep any of it this long?”
“The guest bedroom has your computer as the guest computer,” Hans offered.
“Did you…” Shawn paused, rolling his hand as he tried remembering the words, “reformat it?”
“No. We also have all your notebooks, if that’ll help with anything.”
“That’s wonderful,” Shawn replied as a small grin started to pull at his lips.
After a few minutes of nothing being said, Hans finally broke the silence. “So, we’ve been waiting to ask this because of all the drama with the FBI, but…”
“Who’s the lucky gal?” Mary questioned bluntly.
“I’m sorry?”
“The ring!” Mary said, pointing to his hand.
After a moment, it finally clicked. “Oh yeah! That’s right, I’m engaged! Ex Divinia Etiam, she would kill me if I forgot to mention this.” Shawn chuckled. “Her name is Rarity. She would have come with, but out of worry for what I was stepping into, I requested she stay behind.”
“I guess that makes sense, but you will be bringing her on your next trip, right?”
“Of course. I already promised her that.”
“Well what’s she like?” Hans asked. “I’d assume she’s like that other… form or whatever of yours, yes?”
“Yes… and no,” Shawn replied. “The species is basically Ponies, really colorful Ponies: regular, on Equis, they’re called Earth Ponies, then you have Unicorn and Pegasi.”
“...And you lost us,” Mary commented.
“Yeah, I felt pretty lost, too, when I arrived. Going to sound odd when I explain it, too, considering I’ve lived longer as… my other half? Whatever you count it as,” Shawn finished, tapping the bracelet on his wrist.
“So you’re a regular Pony?” Hans questioned, unsure of what he was asking.
“Kinda?” Shawn replied after a moment. “I have a field of energy that enhanced my strength to absurd levels, my temperature tolerance is almost to the point where I can’t feel temperature at all, and I have literal magic contained in said field from my … adopted daughters.”
Hans and Mary stared at him for a moment, waiting for him to continue.
“Yeah. I may or may not have… raised the rulers of the nation.” Shawn nodded after a few moments of silence. “Yeah, that caught me off guard the most.” He chuckled. “You should hear about the time I–”
Agent Green looked at his watch as a black SUV with a black trailer pulled up. The bold yellow letters on the sides indicated louder than words ever could just who owned the vehicle. He stepped off the front porch as the SUV pulled up and stopped on the gravel Driveway and walked up to the passenger window, showing his badge. He saw the flick of the headlights. He started walking to the back of the trailer as he fished out a set of keys from his pocket. He got to the back and put the key into the lock and turned it. The padlock clicked open, and he removed it. He then proceeded to open the back of the trailer to reveal the two Pony carts. He looked to the wall, picked up the clipboard, and looked at it. He frowned as he noted some of the items that had been catalogued. “Okay, so those items were meant for us,” he muttered as he put the clipboard away and heard the steps of a four-legged creature behind him. He turned around.
“So, I assume that you had to check and inventory our gear?” Lunar Fang asked with a cocked eyebrow.
“That, and I think you two can keep better watch over it than some of our own men.” He paused as if debating something. “Just be careful. Not every human is as nice as the Conners.”
“Oh, I know,” Lunar Fang said with a grin. “I just don’t want to ruin Matthew’s reunion with his family. Don’t worry about missing the story. The nieces and cousins are kind of putting it on hold due them just asking questions. That, and his father wants a family dinner.”
“So what do you plan on doing with all this stuff?” Agent Green asked as he touched one of the carts. Lunar Fang was just finishing hooking herself up to the other.
“Well, presents. The visiting uncle and aunt must always give gifts to their families.” Lunar Fang winked as she pulled the cart. “Now come along. Matthew can’t get his cart, so you’ll have to pull that one. And no, you won’t turn into a Pony.”
“I wasn’t thinking that,” Green answered hastily.
“Sure you weren’t.”
As for Matthew, he was busy dealing with his two nieces and a nephew who couldn’t seem to leave him alone. The rest of the children on the Cloud side of the family were also combing his mane. He snorted once, which only brought giggles from Elizabeth.
“Okay, okay…” he said, trying to get some handle on the situation. “Can we at least get to the questions? At this rate, I am guessing story time won’t be happening until tomorrow.” He looked at the feed bag and plates of food, but he couldn’t eat just yet. The steaks weren’t grilled, and that was what he really wanted right now. “Also, no more pony rides,” he said with a firm glare.
One of the older kids raised a hand and waved it about, while others shouted questions at once, causing Matthew to wince.
“One at a time, one at a time!” he protested as he struggled to raise his voice over the cacophony.
“No need to shout,” his sister-in-law said as she fixed him with a look of annoyance.
Matthew ignored that comment, and used a wing to point at the cousins waving their hand around. “Put your hoof–” he stopped, then facehoofed. “Hand. Put your hand down before it falls off.” He didn’t catch the wide-eyed look a few of his cousins gave each other. When the children had calmed as much as it was going to be possible to get them to, he picked someone to ask a question.
“Can you really fly? Because your wings look so small.”
Matthew was surprised at the rather focused question, but then again, his cousins were big on flight. “Well, yes, but because of natural manipulation of the air around me, and the use of techniques passed down by previous generations…”
“Can you use magic?” one of the kids blurted out. “Like the the show isn’t lying about that?”
“Well...” Matthew could see the frown on some of the older relatives in the room before nodding. “Yeah we call it magic, but it’s not like the magic you read about in the books on Earth. It’s more like, well, it’s a science. I actually have some Pegasus flight books that talk about the formulas for flight, though I will have to translate them first. I didn’t have the time to do that before I came over.”
Several family members stared at him incredulously as another child spoke up before anyone else could. “Can you really sit on clouds?”
Matthew laughed. “Yes, I can, and tomorrow I can even show you.” He continued to chuckle. “After all, I do wonder what Earth clouds feel like. Tomorrow we can have a fun experiment.” He waited for the kids to whine, and true to expectations, they did. “Hey, part of that is to see if I can actually wrangle a cloud down to ground level for you to touch it.”
“But their hand will just go right through,” Umbridge muttered. “You can’t touch clouds.”
“Yes,” his sister-in-law agreed, “but how many kids can say they they got to put their hand through a cloud? I’d consider that touching.”
Matthew looked back at Elizabeth, before looking at her sister. “Do you have a question, my inquisitive little niece?”
“You’re not Uncle. You’re a Pony,” she spoke in her limited vocabulary. She had crossed her arms and looked very grumpy. “Not Matthew,” she said, turning to look at her mother, but she didn’t move from her spot. After all, the Pony was warm and odd looking. It had wings.
“Is that so?” Matthew asked as he opened his navy blue wings and stared with his icy blue eyes. “Then why do I know this?” he asked as he used his left wing tip to tickle her right in the special spot that only family members knew was her squeal button.
She squeaked and squealed, and then began to laugh. “Uncle Matthew! Uncle Matthew!” she cried. The Matthew was pronounced more like a Mathu.
“Is she really my aunt?” A twelve-year-old cousin asked. “Are you really married?”
Lunar Fang laughed. “Yes, I am your aunt.”
“Yeah,” Elizabeth cried as she moved from Matthew to Lunar Fang. “Aunty Luna… Aunty Moon!” she cried.
“She knows what Luna means?” Matthew asked, surprised.
“She likes Celestia, but Luna is okay,” Mark answered. “I taught her what the words mean.
“Not Luna, little one,” she said. “Aunty Fang, okay?”
She was shocked to hear so many children call out at once, “Nice to meet you, Aunty Fang!”
Matthew smiled at the antics. He looked around the group. “So, next question?”
“Did you meet Rainbow Dash?” Matthew looked up and found himself looking at a teen who he was shocked to find wearing a T-shirt with said Pegasus on it.
“Well, yes, and I have also meet the entire town of Ponyville, the Royal Guard, as well as the two Princesses, oh, and Princess Cadence, and Prince General Shining Armor, though when I first met him, he was the captain of the Royal Guard.” He looked at the others. “I wanted to catch those questions before they got asked.” He looked at the Pony-loving teen again, who was just burning to get another question off. Matthew swiftly snuffed that. “You need to wait for the others to ask a few more questions.”
One of Mark’s little ones spoke up next. He was younger than his sister, but he’d developed his speech patterns faster. “Fly?” he asked holding his arms out like wings. “Fly!” he repeated. Matthew looked inquiringly at the child’s parents.
Mark laughed. “He wants to go flying.”
Matthew moved and ran a wing tip under his Nephew's chin. “Maybe when we figure out a harness, but I am not going to be taking anypony… excuse me, anyone flying bareback. Is that understood?”
“Yes, Uncle Matthew,” they all replied.
“Can you do a rainboom?” another little boy asked.
Matthew laughed as he shook his head. “No, only Rainbow Dash can do a rainboom. It is a very hard maneuver, and impossible by most minds; however, I have seen it with my own eyes.”
One of the older children raised a hand. “So, if you can move clouds and fly, does that mean you can control the weather, too?”
Matthew laughed. “Yes. Yes, we do. We actually have the weather printed in our papers to let folks know what it is going to do, with a weekly schedule, so folks know what to expect and how to plan around events.”
“Can I be a Pony?” one little girl asked.
Matthew stiffened. “No,” he whispered. He shook his head. “No. If you tried that, you wouldn’t be able to return to being human. I am stuck as a Pony. This is something that is a one-way street. I don’t want to have to explain to the world why we suddenly have a herd of foals with coats colored like the rainbow.”
Lunar Fang looked over at Agent Umbridge. The woman had made three faces one after the other in lightning succession, and Lunar Fang wasn’t sure if she was pleased or not about what might have gone through her mind.
“But I want to fly!” Elizabeth complained.
“When I get a harness, I’ll take you flying,” he promised. “And all the others,” he relented.”
A combined cheer rose from the gathered youth.
“Could I get a photo for EQD?” one teen asked with a grin. He wore a shirt with Doctor Whooves on it instead.
“What is EQD?” Matthew asked with confusion. Not knowing this particular acronym left him feeling very uneasy.
“The brony news site?”
“You... so there is a news site?” He sighed and shook his head. “I will have to see this show… again, I suppose. I wonder what they got right and wrong.” He looked up at the group. “Yes, you can take a picture and submit it to that site. Doubt you’ll get anywhere else with those photos.”
The second the words were out of his mouth he found himself swarmed by eager children trying to pull him towards the TV room. “Not yet. Not yet! I FEEL WE HAVE MORE QUESTIONS!” Matthew roared. He was shocked as the house went silent. Umbridge’s glasses had been blown clear off, and her hair had been disheveled. Papers and other lighter objects had been scattered about the room, and more than one member in the family gaped at him.
“That… Was that a Royal Canterlot Shout?” the boy with the Rainbow Dash shirt asked.
“I think it was,” the sibling with the Doctor Whooves shirt replied. Standing together, the two could hardly be told apart.
“Do it again! Do it again!” the children shouted.
“Maybe when we are outside, okay?” Matthew asked
“Yeah!” The cheers were nothing compared to the shout, but it was still loud enough.
Rachel, Mark’s wife cleared her throat. “So, do you and your husband have any... what do you call offspring?”
“Foals,” Lunar Fang replied. “We have one rambunctious daughter who is a treat to watch hunt, and I am carrying another right now.”
“Can I touch your belly?” three children called out quickly.
“I... I guess?” Lunar Fang asked, looking fearful, only to find light hands rubbing her belly and Elizebeth putting an ear to the spot to try and hear the baby forming.
“So,” Mark said amicably. “What do you do for work? Or do you get to just lounge all day and magically make bits?”
“Well,” Matthew pawed the ground nervously. “I am the Commander of the entire Equestrian military, or rather, I was a thousand years ago. Currently, I get tax from lands I own.” He shook his head. “I am still adjusting to that. Then I pay tax on that money to the Lunar Princess. At the moment, my main work is helping revitalize the military to be more than just the guard and a couple of Dragons.”
“Hold on.” Great Aunt Selma interrupted. “Did you say Commander?”
Matthew nodded.
“Well, congratulations on fulfilling your dream then.” The elderly woman chuckled. “Though I’m guessing you weren’t expecting to serve as a Pony.”
“Thank you, Aunt Selma.”
“And you?” Mark asked Lunar Fang, even as the majority of the Cloud clan swarmed Matthew in various shows of admiration and respect. This proved more than a little unnerving for the commander.
“Oh, I am second in command of all Equestrian Forces; High Duchess to the city of Ys, which is the capital of the Lunar Courts; and head wife for the Pen Clan of the Dream Clan in the Bear Tribe for the Thestrals.”
“We’ll explain that part later,” Pensword said firmly as he looked towards the children. Nancy puckered her lips, but didn’t say anything more on the matter.
One girl spoke up, asking a question that, while a repeat, still was important for her to get an answer to. “Why aren’t you like us?”
Matthew opened, then closed his muzzle. “That… is a long story, and one that I cannot tell tonight, but I will tell it later, okay?”
“Okay,” she cooed before yawning.
“I think we’ll take one last question from you rascals, and then it’s off to bed. we can watch the show tomorrow morning, okay?” Mark said.
The children cheered at the suggestion.
“Wait, we have cable?” Matthew asked as he whipped his head around to face the other adults.
“Well, I do.” Aunt Selma replied with a grin. “But I don’t think binging on the documentary channel would be healthy for you all.”
This caused laughter from the adults. “Didn’t stop you in the past,” Mr. Conner chuckled from the back.
“Dad… when did you get here? Did you have to teach late? How was the drive?” Matthew asked as he focused on his father.
“Well, actually, I’m the Superintendent for the Gold County School System now. We were just getting things set up for the Halloween party tomorrow night.”
“Wait, you–.” His jaw dropped, then turned into a big grin. “That is awesome, Dad. Congratulations! That is great news!”
The kids moaned and made noise. “Okay, okay, one last question,” Matthew said. “Then it’s off to bed with you, just like Mark said.”
Umbridge cleared her throat. “Forgive me for interrupting, but just how many years were you gone in this… Equestrian time?”
“By Pony standards, I am over one thousand years old. I lived right before the fall of Luna, then I helped with the Crystal Empire right before Sombra took power, and I have lived in modern time for… oh, about a year. Now, I was two years old when they found me in the past, and I lived to be twenty two, and before that time travel, I was twenty three at the Crystal Empire.” He looked down. “I think I am somewhere around twenty four or twenty five now.”
Umbridge stared at him in a mix of disbelief and confusion.
“Okay, last child question,” Matthew spoke as he eyed Umbridge pointedly.
“Can I ask three questions? They’re all sorta linked,” one of the younger relatives asked. She wore two identical tiny patches sewn into the left and right sleeves of his shirt and was clearly struggling to hold back some laughter.
“Sure.”
She grinned. “What is your name, what is your quest, and what is your favorite color?”
Matthew paused before he started to laugh loudly. Soon enough, he was rolling around on the floor in a fit of giggles that confirmed far more than any words could have, just who he really was at heart. Nobody could laugh like Matthew. Somehow between the bouts and tears, he managed to respond. “My name is Matthew. My quest is to see my family and regain some of my old things from home, and my favorite color is blue.”
“She’s been doing that to everyone,” Selma said as she shook her head good-naturedly. A hint of a smile pulled at the corners of her lips.
“Right. Bedtime everyone,” Mark said.
“Shouldn’t it be Everypony?” the twin in the Rainbow Dash shirt asked.
“Shush, Robert. And don’t say a word, Fredrick. Both of you help out getting everyone to bed.”
Matthew filed that information away for later use to identify the twins. Robert was Rainbow Dash, and Frederick was Doctor Whooves.
“If you go to bed and be nice, you’ll get presents tomorrow,” Matthew said in a sing-song voice. The children were gone faster than the parents could herd them, which led to a bit of a blockage on the stairs, but they were able to sort it all out eventually. When they returned, he got a full round stink eyes from them, but he didn’t care. “What? I’m an absent relative, and I have to spoil them. How else can I make up for being gone for three years.”
After an exhausted roll of the eyes, many of the parents excused themselves to get to bed to prepare for airport runs, leaving Mark, Rachel, Nancy, Mr. Conner, Great Aunt Selma, and the two agents.
“Okay, you each get one question, then I am going to bed, and we can talk tomorrow morning at oh, zero-five-thirty.”
“Good, because the kids will be up at nine, breakfast is at nine ten, and Pony rides will be at ten,” Nancy answered.
“Right. Thanks, Mom. Now who wants to go first?” Matthew asked.
“Yeah.” One of his older aunts walked into the room dressed in her uniform for the airport. “What was that your wife was saying about being the first? Are you, well, is your society structured like the wild horses here on Earth?”
Matthew sighed and nodded his head. He knew the elephant was going to have to be addressed eventually. “Yes, in the older families and older traditions, it is appropriate for a stallion to build a herd with more than one wife, if he so desires.” He did his best to avoid eye contact as he explained. “I have two mares. Well, the papers say three, but that is due to time travel issues, and the issue between Lunar Fang’s birth name and her assumed name during the war.”
“Okay…” She looked at her wrist watch, patted her left breast pocket, which had the emblem of a radar dish you would find at an airport, smiled, and left. “I’ll ask more later, young man.”
Matthew smiled nervously and looked at the group. It was a great relief to have that over and done with. “Who’s next?”
His mother spoke up. “When do we meet your second wife and our grand… foals?” she asked. Despite the confusion in her tone, the grin on her face surprised Matthew more than anything else. “I want to spoil my first granddaughter. We grandparents do have rights, too, you know.”
“I do not know when we’d be able to visit next. It is our hope that we can bring little Moon River with us next time, but in the meantime, I do have a family picture for you to display and hold onto, and make copies with.”
Agent Green raised a hand. “You do approve of my marriage, so, you’re okay that you won’t be getting rid of me?”
Matthew frowned and furrowed his brow. “I have no say over what you do or whom you date in this family. However, seeing as this is first contact, well, I am okay with that. Just keep in mind I might use your contacts to get in touch with officials when I visit, as well as if I need to get in touch with a friend.”
“Okay,” Agent Green answered with a smirk as his eyes shifted over to look at Umbridge.
“Is this world of yours a threat? Are more coming?” Umbridge asked.
“A smart question,” Matthew said, shocking all in the room. “A good question to be asked as well.” He smiled. “No, no more are coming across. We don’t want any Earth technology getting into Equestria, and as for the first part, I’ll start off with a question of my own. Is your world a threat? Yes. Is our world a threat? Yes. You have advanced military technology, and we have magic. Both are powerful tools for good or evil. So to answer your question, we both are threats to each other. That doesn’t mean we cannot become friends and allies.” He held up a wing as Umbridge opened her mouth. “Ah-ah-ah. One question only. You can ask more tomorrow.”
His father spoke next. “How much education did you get?”
Matthew looked at his father. “We didn’t have schools like here on Earth, but we had small one-room schools. Unfortunately, due to my looks and heritage, I was forced out, and had to be home schooled. I also attended a military academy. I am a graduate for this world, obviously, but I am admittedly still learning, reading books, and conversing with two ancient beings on a regular basis about Equestria and its history. And yes, they really are over a thousand years old.”
He looked to his great aunt.
“I think it’s you who has a question for me,” she said knowingly, though her smile had turned a little sad.
“Where is Uncle Cloud?” Matthew asked. He folded his ears as he saw the looks.
“It happened about six months ago,” Aunt Selma, began. “We buried him in a plot in the cemetery in town. Before he died, he left instructions to be opened and followed when you came back. He firmly believed you would return. The FBI hounded him the whole time, trying to learn more, but he wouldn’t say.” She stood up. “Now that you’re here, that time’s come. I have papers to open and get ready for tomorrow. You lot can carry on without me.”
“Okay, Aunt Selma.”
Selma nodded, then left the room as she made her way to the stairs.
“I have to ask this question, Matthew. How was your family on the other side? You said you were two years old when you were found, so you had to have been adopted,” Nancy said.
Matthew smiled as he did his best to keep reduce the pain. “Yes, I was adopted. I had a great family, a good home, a great village, an extended family of Thestrals…” he frowned. “Like Lunar Fang told you, they were all killed during the Third Gryphon War. It was… difficult losing them. All had left were the Thestrals on my adopted mother’s side. The rest… I don’t think you would like to hear, since it has to do with the war.”
“I already told you, Matthew. This time, that rule’s been lifted.” She knelt down and hugged him around the neck. My baby was hurt, and I intend to be here for him.”
Matthew’s eyes widened in surprise. Then he felt the warm streaks running down his cheeks. “O-okay, Mom. I… I am looking forward to talking to you and Dad about it, as well as the others that want to join in.”
Lunar Fang smiled. “Now, you’d better get to bed. We’ll go out to the fields to sleep.”
“No, you won’t,” Nancy insisted. “You two are going to spend the night right here with us. You’re family, after all. I just… don’t think your old bed would hold both.” She paused as she broke off the embrace and looked down at the two. “You are smaller than you used to be, though, so it might work.” She nodded. “Alright, you two are going to spend the night in Matthew’s old room. You remember that one, don’t you, Matthew?”
“Y-yes.”
“Actually,” Aunt Selma called from her place on the stairs, “Cloud turned the upper part of the library into a room. You two can spend your time there while you visit.”
“Are you sure, Aunt Selma?” Matthew asked.
“Of course I’m sure, boy. Now why don’t you be a good nephew and help this old woman up the stairs?”
Shawn stared at a large black rectangular object. The side panel was translucent and revealed complicated circuits with a few cables and tubes. He trailed the cords towards a few other devices connected to the object. After looking over the device a few times, he was happy to find the power button.
As soon as he pressed it, the machine whirred to life. The faint sound of a fan starting up reached his ears as two large flat reflective surfaces suddenly burst with light. A series of letters and numbers passed by him before switching to a symbol showing four squares in different colors. After a moment, two other pieces burst with light, one displaying every number and letter in the english alphabet; and the other containing a bunch of numbers, a wheel, and two additional buttons on top.
He faintly heard a jingle come from a pair of headphones sitting on a stand. He didn’t remember his computer being this complicated when he left...
Login: ________
“Uh…”
After looking to the piece of paper his father had given him, he slowly began typing the password into his computer, thankfully remembering to add capital letters when needed. As soon as he typed in the password and hit enter, it revealed his old desktop, cluttered with a series of folders, each labeling a type of project or group of projects.
‘Drawing Programs.’
‘Floor Layout with Measurements.’
‘Drawings.’
‘Halloween outfit instructions.’
“Ooh, I remember that one,” Shawn said as he gingerly grabbed his mouse, attempting not to crush it by accident.
Suddenly several windows popped up, including a blue window with a circle loading something and the word Skype at the top bar. A dark window with the word Steam at the top raised a few questions as he jogged his memories for what it was and why it was named after hot water vapor. Then a small square in the bottom right of his screen asked if he wanted to do this thing called ‘updating’ that, for some reason, annoyed him.
Eventually the windows disappeared, leaving just two behind. After scanning them briefly, he determined that he had, in fact, over a thousand messages in both programs.
“I’ll… uh… get to those later?”
Grabbing his notebook, he opened it to reveal a few designs for random parts and equipment. He even had drawings of motors. Eventually he found himself looking at old drawings of his ideas for guns and swords.
“Wow, I actually thought these would work?” He chuckled as he moved his hand over a few of the designs. “So… overly complicated.”
He rolled his eyes as he looked through the pages of his past. A few notes were left for himself mentioning important meetings he needed to be at, a few bills that needed to be paid by what day, and some few notes questioning what he would do in certain situations and instructing him to write them somewhere else in his notebook.
Looking to his clock, he chuckled as he realised how much he had to catch up on, and how he had plenty of time to do it. The digital face read 1:48 AM.
Extended Holiday Ch 101: Can I Have a Pip-Boy Now? Act 16
Taze had returned to Nathan's apartment around three AM, where he crashed on his friend's couch and tried to get some rest. He woke up at eight AM and proceeded to run himself through some rudimentary stretches, and what exercises he could accomplish. Then he spent the next few hours organizing his bag. Next, he returned to the town with his hood over his head, and visited the bank, where he set up a dummy account. Fortunately for him, he managed to use his basic information at the teller without too much trouble, and placed all his remaining cash inside the new account. Finally, he got himself a Visa debit card to allow him to access said account easily.
With that task accomplished, he headed out on foot towards the outskirts of the town. Once he found a suitable place where nobody would see him, he transformed and shot upwards as quickly as he could, using the winds to aid him, so that he could be less visible from below. He proceeded to fly above his family's home, and did several passes. Finally, he set himself down outside the perimeter. It looked like his family were gone from the air, but he wished he could make sure. If only he had some way of getting an inside look of the yard.
Then it hit him as he spied a robin sitting on the nearby tree. This time, it was Grif’s memories that flashed into focus as he and Graf walked through the forest, the old bird showing him how to mimic the sounds of the birds and how to interpret them. It was not the most precise means of communication, as the birds were hardly capable of deep thoughts, but it was a fast way to find a place or to find out information, if you knew how to ask.
Taking several deep breaths, he opened his beak and proceeded to let out a series of chirps that mimicked the robin’s birdsong. The translation for his words if he remembered correctly, came across as such: “Greetings, Song Feather Red Breast. May your voice stay sweet and your nest be undisturbed. This lion bird would ask if the hums of yon nest have flown.”
There was a silence in which Grif was sure the robin hadn’t understood him, but then, to his surprise, she opened her beak and warbled. “Well met, lion bird. Two hums left nest in their large beasts. Their small chick also gone in larger beast.”
It took Grif a full moment to realize the robin had responded to his song. He carefully lowered his beak with gratitude before he made his way through the trees, and then the yard, and into the small house. He found the door unlocked, as it usually was, and let himself in, locking the door behind him. His uncle had a habit of coming by and letting himself in, and he didn’t need that right now.
Memories and scents assailed Grif’s nose as he entered, both of the humans who lived there, as well as the many fainter scents of people who had passed through. The faintest was barely on the verge of his senses, and he realized, quite suddenly, that it was his own human scent.
As he had suspected, his room was locked. He sighed heavily as he found a screwdriver and proceeded to pick the old-fashioned pressure lock. The door slipped open without an argument. The room was old and musty from lack of use. Dust particles filtered through the light and coated most of the articles. He took a moment to acclimatize himself to the rush of memories that came back. Then he took a deep breath and stepped in.
Boxes on boxes had been stacked and sealed with packing tape to protect their contents from the passing of time. With a bit of trepidation, he opened the first of them, and confirmed his suspicions. His old articles, including clothing and other personal effects, had been carefully preserved within the confines of the packaging. He struggled to hold back the pang in his chest. He couldn’t afford to let his emotions cloud his judgement. It was better this way. That was why he’d chosen to visit like this, rather than burden them with the pain of losing him again.
Over the next hour, he moved through the boxes, scanning their contents and adding them to his mental catalogue, before stowing them in his pack. Movies, games, several items and paraphernalia from series he enjoyed, his entire collection of fantasy swords and weapons, and finally, his books; the boxes and boxes of books. Jules Verne, HP Lovecraft, Tolkien, Lewis, Shelly, Doyle, Stoker, Jacques, Mccaffrey, and numerous other authors all jumped happily to the forefront in his cranium like old friends as he stowed them away. The worlds they created and the stories they told were all safe now. In the back of it all, he found the box containing his large black desktop computer with the translucent panel at the side. The monitor, the headset, his mouse and keyboard, and even his mouse pad were all neatly stored away. He ran through the catalogue as he surveyed the empty room. He did so three more times, before he realized there was something missing from the list; his Colt Python revolver. It had been a gift from his little brother, though where he’d found one, he never figured out.
Taze had complained constantly about the continuing bravery of coyotes in the winter, and had taken it upon himself to get the necessary permits for the weapon, though he had never intended to use one for more then firing in the air as he barely managed to pass the minimum qualifications when it came to actually firing the weapon. Still, on the day he’d received his license, his little brother had presented him with the gun, and it had been among his prized possessions. He was about to leave, when a hollow sound beneath his paws caught his ear. It took him a few minutes, but he managed to slowly work out the edge to what he discovered to be a hidden hinge in the floorboards. It took him a while to figure out how to open the pressure lock, but when he did, he found the weapon and the ammunition stowed away in a small Coke-a-Cola tin.
Confusion only lasted for a moment as he realized what must have happened. After he’d been gone for so long, his parents must have been preparing to move his things to storage, or possibly even sell some of it. He wouldn’t hold it against them, if they had, but his brother had hidden the weapon with the unrelenting hope that he would return.
He’d returned alright. The pain rebounded as he held the case and ran his talons gently over the cover. Then he opened his bag and located some paper and a pen. He hastily scrawled out a note, emptied the gun and ammo into his pack, and placed the note and several smaller gems back into the tin. This message would be for his brother’s eyes only. He blinked back tears as he replaced the tin and the lock. In a blur, he left the room and the house, and took to the air. He’d retrieved what he’d wanted. Now he would leave before more of the painful memories could build up. He aimed himself southwest and pushed off. Matthew had always invited him to come over if he was in the area. It was time to see just how long it would take him to be in the area.
Conor sighed as he rose from his daily pushups and grabbed a pair of old shorts and a shirt to go jogging with. It had been a long time since he’d been able to see his neighborhood, and he pondered how much it might have changed over the year that he’d been gone. With a quick tie of his shoes, he was ready to go, and after calling to let his mother know he’d be out for the next half hour or so, he immediately jogged out the door.
The cool morning air triggered goosebumps across his skin as he started his trip. The simple patter of one foot in front of the other was all he needed to focus on now, though he did focus on other things anyways. He had a lot to think about, after all.
“The one choice to rule them all,” he muttered. “Talk about a weighty decision. And if I’ve been missing for a year, there’s going to be loads of stuff here I need to deal with. College, finding a job, getting acclimated again, and that’s even assuming I choose to stay here.” He groaned and rolled his eyes. “The one time where a dream comes true to go on a fantastic adventure, and, all of a sudden, I find I wish my life wasn’t so complicated. Thanks a lot, universe.”
Fortunately, his ADD soon kicked in as he thought on other things: old friends, old stories, family, and–. He broke off his run and searched the street. The place looked abandoned enough, with the exception of an ACH van that had been parked in one of the driveways. A pair of workers were helping get the system switched over for the winter.
“. . . Funny,” he muttered to himself. He shuddered once, then broke into his jog again. No time to linger on it, and if someone was indeed following him, he’d deal with it when the time came. He’d been trained well enough to handle a surprise attack. “Jump Scare made sure of that,” he muttered darkly as thoughts of a certain black Pegasus with an unhealthy streak for scary pranks. “I swear, he was worse than Rainbow Dash.”
As Conor passed down the hill and out of sight, the pair of workmen looked at one another and sighed in relief.
“Kid’s got better senses than I thought.”
“You think he made us?”
“Nah. Still better call this in to HQ, though. Monitoring’s going to need to be more discreet.”
Shawn sighed as he sat in the living room, waiting for the return of his parents and additional relatives. Staring at the wall, he could make note of a few decorative swords hanging here and there, a rifle, even a few bottle caps sitting on the top shelf near his window. Perhaps someone was saving them for something? The metal may have some type of worth. Then again, that was neither here nor there anymore. He shrugged as he continued to run up the catalogue of things that once, and still were, his possessions; relics of an old world and an old life.
After a few more minutes, he heard the sound of a car driving up and parking in the driveway. Three doors opened and slammed closed, soon followed by the sound of something else opening and closing. That was probably the front door. He’d have to catalogue that for later, just in case someone entered who wasn’t supposed to. He let out a breath as he continued listening to the sounds. He hadn’t been able to discern everyone’s individual footsteps just yet, but he had a feeling it was his parents, and someone big.
He shook his head as he tried to close out the noise around him. Apparently, his time as a Pony had sharpened his hearing a little too well. He allowed himself a brief wince as a dull ringing sounded in his ears. He just had to focus, calm down, and then it would stop.
The door opened, and the footsteps entered, soon rounding the corner to reveal a large burly man standing behind his parents. He looked quite strong, and his posture was erect and focused. His long grey hair was slicked back into a ponytail, and his beard was trimmed to keep it from going below his chest. He wore a dark brown shirt with a pair of dark blue cargo jeans and steel-toed work boots.
“I’ll be damned,” he muttered. The faint scottish accent caught at Shawn’s ears.
Shawn stood as he looked the man over a few times. “. . . Uncle Andre?”
Andre quickly moved over and hugged him. Said hug held a lot of force that would normally have knocked the wind out of Shawn, had he not experienced all that he had in Equestria. “It is you!”
Shawn chuckled, returning the hug with less force. “It’s good to see you again.”
“Where in the world have you been, lad?”
“I’ll save that for later. I have a feeling the others will want to hear it as well.”
“You’d better,” Andre commented, before looking over his face. “Gods! What happened to you? You look like you got into a sword fight and lost.”
“Well, I did lose a few of those here and there.”
Andre blinked a few times as he looked him over again. “. . . I’ll ask later.”
Shawn suddenly perked up. “Last I remember, you had a smithy in town, right?”
“Of course I do. You think I’d give the shop up just because you disappeared?” He chuckled mirthfully. “We’ve had plenty of work, lad. Plenty of work.”
“Do you think we could go there at some point today?”
Andre smiled. “Sure, lad. It’ll give me time to catch up with you, too. You want to try your hand at one of those weird swords you used to draw?”
“No, no. I’d like to do something more … realistic.”
Mary and Hans smiled as the two talked back and forth, debating designs, materials, tempering techniques, and all things smithing. Andre was genuinely surprised at how knowledgeable his nephew had become, and it led to a very stimulating conversation, especially when Shawn produced a few of his works from his coat’s pocket. That sparked off another discussion entirely, which would likely last for several hours.
Matthew and Lunar Fang did not go to sleep that night, nor did they make their way to the loft. They had till nine AM to spend, and they decided that time would be best spent looking over the library. The books couldn’t be read, first because Matthew didn’t want to risk anything at the moment, and second, because Lunar Fang couldn’t read the language. Instead, he went to one wall that had gathered together something that he didn’t expect.
Model upon model stared him in the face, each on its own platform among the shelving units that had been set up. He remembered spending hours with his father as they worked to put these figures together, carefully picking them from the internet, discussing the history behind them, weighing their options on the budget they had to follow. So many memories, so much history, both for the world, and for himself, all combined in this little space.
He named each model, one after the other: the Titanic; the Lusitania; a U-Boat; the Yamato; the Missouri; the Arizona; the Britannic (one in her hospital ship colors and one in her never-used civilian colors); the Olympic; the Carpathia that picked up the Titanic’s survivors; the I-400, a Japanese Sub that could carry airplanes; the original CV-6 USS Enterprise; the CV-65 Enterprise, the only carrier of her class and first nuclear surface vessel; the Bismarck; and the HMS Hood.
As he followed the trail of models to the higher shelves, he noticed the three blimps and yet again recited their names. The Hindenburg, the USS Akron, and the USS Macon. The latter two were the aircraft carriers of the sky, and he couldn’t help but smile as he recalled the dream of being able to visit these ships, to experience what it would be like to walk inside them, to watch that machinery in action, maybe even operate it one day. Needless to say, some tendencies in the family were hereditary. Mark wanted to work with the train. Matthew wanted to work with everything.
The next couple of models were far from anything historical, unless one were to count television history. With a flap of his wings, Matthew hovered at the top of the shelves and stared at the original Battlestar Galactica from the 1980s TV show, and the original USS Enterprise. He chuckled as he recalled the positive memories of sitting around the television with family to watch the seasons develop for each of these universes. Star Trek was especially memorable for him as he recalled his father reading about the universe every night before bed. He missed that, just a little.
Finally, he turned to the last of his models. There, on its side, was the Apollo 11, with the Lunar Lander next to it. Naturally, the majority of the night was spent explaining about each of these models, and what they represented to him, while Lunar Fang listened diligently. The very idea of space travel seemed so alien to her, and yet the premise for the stories themselves were so alluring. Before they knew it, Matthew’s father was standing in the library with his hands over his hips as he tapped his foot in a manner Matthew knew only too well.
One sheepish smile later and a long explanation about their nocturnal cycle, the appointed time had come, and the family was gathered around the great dining room table, while Selma, Nancy, and two Aunts dished up food for him and his cousins, nieces, and nephews. In short, the table could best be described as ordered chaos. Children fought or teased or poked, others complained, some demanded food, while others still struggled in vain to control all the hubbub the younger children were causing. It reminded Matthew of some of the less ruley days back in the Academy, though he did pick up something from Rachel as she leaned in and whispered into his ear.
“Do you have something to wear? It’s not exactly kind to just be in your fur. No offense meant. It just sets a bad example for the children.”
Matthew nodded. “I have a dress uniform and some leather armor I use for hunting.”
“That’ll do,” she whispered back. “Also, we think we have a mountain lion prowling the tourist areas.”
Matthew got the hint. “I’ll see what I can do.” He shuddered. “Has it gotten any of the horses?”
“No, but it is making them nervous, and we almost lost one when it tried to buck its passenger and bolt.”
Matthew frowned. That was not good. “As I said, I’ll see what I can do.” He knew the herd would do well to protect themselves, but still, to lose one to an attack would be hard.
As they had suspected, he and Lunar Fang surprised most of the family when they each ate the bacon. Lunar Fang particularly enjoyed it, and seemed sad when it was gone. She removed the translation medallion and turned to Matthew. “I thought the food was going to be bad, but this . . . while I can tell there’s a difference, it’s surprisingly good. After what you and Taze said, I thought human food was supposed to be terrible compared to ours.”
Matthew chuckled. “That is because the Clouds will only have organic foods in their house. They always have, ever since the Second World War. The first thing my great uncle did when he got home was catch a fish, clean it, cook it, and eat it. He also picked wild berries in Oregon, which, admittedly, is odd. The whole family is allergic to processed foods, but if they get it themselves, it’s fine.”
He pointed to a half-eaten loaf of bread. “Baked fresh this morning. Gold County has one of the few remaining stone mills left. Oh, that reminds me, they need some of my gold. I want to make sure it stays in operation.” He smiled as he switched back to English. “I do say,” he said, stressing the accent for all it was worth, which led to quite a few snarks and many young children getting milk flowing out their nostrils. “This is a good, hearty breakfast.”
“What do you usually eat for breakfast?” Nancy asked as she paused to hand out three more pancakes to Robert.
“Well, a little more meat, pancakes, more syrup, and camp cakes, a sort of biscuit that can be cooked on hot rocks as a meal on the go. That, and a few Thestral delicacies that I know Earth does not have.”
“Cool. So, uh, do you like the food?” Robert asked.
“I ate ten pancakes, and what feels like a whole cantaloupe, and…” he stopped as the whole table burst into laughter.
“I am guessing I can compete with someone?” Matthew asked.
“You can eat as much as Robert,” Selma said. Ever since you left, he’s reigned as the undisputed champion.”
“Well that is good. I am not risking eating the hay, oats, or grass of this land. Well the oats… oh do you have any horse cookies? I would like to try one, just to see what it tastes like. After all, I am, well, you know.” He motioned to himself with a wing.
“I’ll see what I can do,” Nancy said. A mirthful smile pulled at her lips and her eyes sparkled with suppressed mirth. “I still can’t believe you actually tried one of those things over there.”
“But they were yummy.”
Nancy shook her head. “I know. I know. Everything in Equestria is yummy, from what I understand.” She chuckled. “You’d better get going. I’ll keep your plate ready. The kids are going to be wanting to watch the show. And before you ask, we TiVo it, so the kids can fast forward the commercials.”
“Ah,” Matthew answered. “Well, let us go and see what we have to see.”
The ground flew by under Grif at a startling pace. Fields and trees blurred underneath him with every flap of his wings. The weather was sunny and warm for autumn, and the air was crisp at his current altitude, but his feathers and fur kept the worst of it off, and the wind seemed perpetually at his back without his needing to push it. He’d passed the Canada-USA border high enough that anyone looking up would see a small black spot in the air, and probably imagine it was a hawk or some other form of raptor. Still, Grif made an effort to avoid populated areas, especially sites that may have some form of radar.
The trip, once he’d figured out his course, was somewhat straight, so he spent some time arranging affairs on his phone, thankful he had made sure to get international coverage on his plan. He checked his e-mail, and then promptly closed it, deciding that ten thousand e-mails wasn’t worth the effort. He checked FiMfiction.net, and was surprised to find more than a dozen stories he’d been following were finished. He searched amazon and smiled as he found himself purchasing several things he had no real use for, but had always wanted, and arranging for them to be shipped to Matthew’s address, which he had from the times they’d sent letters and packages between each other.
He put his phone away as the Rocky Mountains came into view in the distance. He found a decent crag and stopped to rest his wings. He also built a fire to heat the remainder of the deer meat from the previous day’s hunt. After he finished eating, he donned his armor. It would be heavier while flying, but it had been too long since he’d last worn it, and it felt wrong to be without it. Taking a fifteen minute nap, he snuffed the fire out and took off, heading, once again, for his bearing. He hoped to surprise Matthew before the day was out, and firmly did his best to keep that hope at the forefront, so Murphy couldn’t interfere.
Shawn couldn’t help but smile as he stood in his uncle’s smithy. He was able to easily recognize several tools that he would use almost every day, and a few machines that he had next to no clue as to what they were for.
He removed his coat, folding it and neatly placing it off to the side. After a moment he rolled up the sleeves of his dress shirt to keep the material out of the way. “So, what material do you have to spare?” he questioned.
“Depends. I’ve got some iron and steel, if you want to try your hand at it,” Andre offered.
“Steel sounds like an easy start.”
Andre gave him a look as he sorted through a few bars before removing one from the pile. “Do you even remember some of the stuff I taught you, or should we start from the beginning?”
Shawn chuckled. “I have it covered. I’ve had plenty of time to learn on my own.”
Grabbing ahold of the ingot, he could feel Andre keeping an eye on him as he studied the material and made his way over to an anvil. “Oh yeah. You’ll also get to see a few neat tricks that I have.” He grinned impishly.
“Such as?”
Shawn simply held up the ingot as it slowly began to heat up, changing color right before Andre’s eyes. “I don’t need to wait on the metal heating up, since I can just, you know, accelerate it to the needed temperature.” He chuckled at Andre’s expression, then reached for a hammer. There were several to choose from, but he ultimately settled on what looked to be a traditional, simple smithing hammer. He gave it a quick twirl as he looked it over, then placed the ingot on the anvil. After a bit more scrutiny, he finally decided on a simple longsword for this project.
Lifting the hammer in the air, he brought it down with a well-known ping of metal on metal.
And fracturing wood.
Looking to his hand, he found the remains of the hammer in his grasp, the other half of it having been launched several feet away.
“Uhh…” Andre started.
“I… can pay for that?” Shawn offered.
When Conor had arrived home, he found an anxious and very much relieved mother waiting by the door. “It’s fine, Mom. Nobody’s going to try to kidnap me or pull me away, and even if they did, I’m not so defenseless as I used to be. I have my training, and I don’t mean just magic.”
“You just got back, Conor. I think I’m entitled to a little mother-henning after not seeing you for a year. Though, since you are back, what costume were you thinking of wearing for Halloween?”
“That’s . . . actually a good question. I wasn’t really planning on dressing up, truth be told. I mean, it’s not like I can get a hold of a quality costume that fast. We’ve only got, what, a few more weeks?”
“More like one.”
“And you’re asking me to put together a costume that quickly?”
“Touché.” She looked pointedly at him. “Are you ready for church this Sunday?”
“Well that depends. Do you think you can help me take in the waist on my pants?”
“I suppose we’ll just have to, won’t we?” she said with a smile.
“Aww crud!”
“What? What is it?”
“Mom, think about it. I’ve been lying under the radar so far, because I’ve pretty much kept to home and the neighborhood. Once I’m in church, and everyone starts talking …”
“You’re thinking about the news crews, aren’t you?”
“After being gone for a year? Yeah, somebody’s going to want to interview me.” Conor sighed as he made his way to the sink and took a long drink of water. “And then we have to worry about the government, too.”
“What do you mean?”
“Mom, I’ve just been to another world. At the very least, we’re going to have the government breathing down my neck for every detail, and I’ll have to talk to the President. And that’s if I’m lucky. Considering I just said that, and just how badly Murphy’s been trolling me for the last year, I’m pretty sure it’s going to be a lot bigger, a lot more involved, and very, very exhausting.”
“Conor, why don’t you just worry about the now for now? We don’t know what’s going to come in the future, but we do know that you’re here, safe and sound again. Put those worries aside for now, and let’s just enjoy the fact that we’re a family again.”
Conor sighed. “A little hard to do that, Mom.”
“Because?”
“It’s complicated.”
“How?”
“. . . Magical stuff?”
Conor’s mother raised a quizzical eyebrow. “And that’s all you can say about it?”
“Yeah. Pretty much. I’m still sort of mulling through it all.”
“You know I’m here to talk to if you need to, right?”
“Mom, I always know that. It’s just… this is something I have to figure out for myself, you know?”
She sighed. “I think so.” Then she pulled Conor into a deep hug, despite his sweaty condition. “I love you.”
“I know, Mom,” he replied with a choked-up voice. “I know.”
Matthew was taking a peaceful walk outside. He had lasted the opening scene, the intro, and two minutes into the main set of the show before he had gotten up in a huff and left. He couldn’t stand to see Rainbow Dash acting so . . . immature. Twilight was more confident than she was in the show. It was like a caricature that messed up on a key feature. The moment that a Scottish talking Griffon showed up, he threw up his wings and left. Lunar Fang was laughing her head off at the antics, while getting strange looks from his cousins, but for him, it was just too much.
He found himself at the airport, which, as he looked at the sun, meant he’d walked so long that the episode would have ended a few minutes ago. At the same time, he didn’t really care for that show, as he’d just spent the last several minutes thinking about how horribly inaccurate it was, while he traveled. He sighed and shook his head to clear it. Since he was here, he might as well poke around the areas the Cloud family usually went. A travel down memory lane would be nice, especially after Great Uncle Cloud passed, but first, he needed to get to the front desk for a security badge.
He turned and walked to the front of the airport, but as he did, he heard the sound of a learjet landing. He looked up and frowned. That logo for the local ski resort was an eyesore, and he would recognize it anywhere, even after all this time away. “Great . . . he’s back.” He picked up his pace as he hoped to get his security badge before running into the owner of said jet.
He walked up to the entrance and stumbled as the glass doors opened on their own. “I . . . that. . . .” He didn’t know what to think at seeing this technology. It took him a moment before a distant memory of his humanity came back. “Automatic. Right.” He took a breath and stepped forward into the lobby.
“Woah now,” a tall, fat man objected as he stepped up. He looked at the Pony and blinked. “That’s a breed I’ve never seen before. Better get you to animal control, little fellah.”
Matthew’s eye twitched. “My good sir, I am not some dumb animal that is to be ‘owned’ by the residents of this town. If you would please step aside, I have business to conduct at the front desk of this airport.”
The man stepped aside in shocked muteness. Matthew smiled and nodded his head in thanks as he walked forward. He ruffled his wings, so the tips touched each other on his back.
“He’s got wings!” someone yelled.
Matthew cringed at the shrill pitch. “Of course I’ve got wings,” he muttered under his breath. “Why are the wings the big thing? I just talked.” He stopped his grumbling as he reached the counter, looked up, and saw a confused-looking attendant peer over, before her eyes widened. “I need to see the General,” he said in Japanese.
The attendant nodded dumbly with wide eyes as she moved to a side door and opened it up. Matthew smiled and walked into a hallway lined with doors. The setup reminded him only too well of the interrogation halls when he first started his life in Equestria. How long ago that felt now, practically a lifetime. He looked up at the signs by each door, and continued on his way. Three doors farther, he stopped, raised a hoof, and tapped on the metal. He smiled as the sound of the impact echoed through the hallway.
The door finally opened to reveal a burly man with a salt-and-pepper, high-and-tight, flat top hair cut, and a tight-fitting police uniform looking down at him. He smiled wryly as he looked down at the Pony with little, if any, surprise. “So the news in the Cloud vine is true. You really are a Pony.” He rubbed his chin, then chuckled. “Come on in. I’ll get you a new picture and print off your security badge. You want access to Gramps’ hangars, right?”
“Yes, and his old stomping grounds, if that’s all right. I have pretty good hearing, so I think I can handle the airport.” Matthew smiled. “It’s good to see you, Bill.”
“It’s good to see you, too, Matthew.” Bill smiled as he typed rapidly at his computer console. “So you want this pass to use your Earth name, or do you want your other name?”
“Since my form is more equine, I think Pensword would be the better one to use. That is my name while I’m in this form, after all. It’s just… good to be Matthew for a while here, you know? And yes, that is the English translation.”
“Why the fancy accent? If I didn’t know better I’d think I was talking to the Brigadier or something.”
“Har, har, har. I am no Lethbridge Stewart,” Matthew said sardonically.
“Best Earth character on Doctor Who,” Bill said pointedly.
“Doctor Who?”
Bill turned around. “It’s only been four years. How can you have forgotten about Doctor Who–?” He trailed off. Then his mouth pulled into a grin. “You cheeky little winged chicken. You’re pulling my leg.”
“Hoof,” Matthew corrected automatically as he smiled just as much as Bill. “It really is good to see you again.”
“Right. Uh. . . .” He paused and quickly moved to find a wooden stool to hide the rising blush in his cheeks. “Just, uh . . . sit on this, and we’ll get that picture taken.”
Matthew smiled as he opened his wings, lifted off and actually kicked the stool away as he hovered in front of Bill. “I think I can manage.”
“How?” Bill asked
“Believe it or not, magic.”
“Right. Okay. . . . Anyway, bright flash.”
The flash hit, and Matthew was still smiling. “I’ve seen worse.”
“Not even going to ask,” Bill said as he shook his head. “It’s tough enough swallowing the fact my cousin is a Pony.”
Conor sighed as he booted up his laptop and looked over his Skype account. As he had expected, a rather large number of messages had passed through his inboxes while he’d been gone. He quickly cycled through to the bottom of the boards, and let his friends know he was all right. If he was going to be staying on Earth anyways, he might as well let his friends know he was okay. He owed them that much.
After a few hours of chatting, he finally decided to get off for a while and catch up on some real world events instead. As usual, the Republicans and Democrats were bashing against each other with all their might. The war on terror had continued in the Middle East, and politicians were still arguing on both sides of the floor, with the majority trying to force their agendas through, instead of acting bipartisanly. In short, it was a mess, just the way he’d left it.
Conor shook his head in disappointment. “I guess some things never change.”
In a flash of inspiration, he pulled up the skype one more time and pinged a message off to Shawn, Taze, and Matthew.
“Hey, guys. Made it safe and sound. Hope you did, too. Hit me up when you get the chance.”
A few minutes later, the messenger pinged. Shawn had responded.
“Good to hear. I was interrogated at a military base.”
“You were what now?”
“Landed in a military base, got interrogated. Simple as that.”
“How is it you manage to come home, and you still wind up in trouble?”
“Because it would be too easy otherwise.”
“Shawn, life is never simple for you, is it?”
“Life will be easy when I die. Until then, it’s always entertainment, just not for me half the time.”
“Clearly. It’s all sorted out now, though, right?”
“They want to do additional tests, because I broke most of their equipment.”
“Seriously, man?”
“They wanted a blood sample, so I had to use one of my knives to actually pierce my skin.”
“You mean that actually carried over to your human form?”
“Of course. Why wouldn’t it?”
“Heck if I know. I just figured you’d at least be able to get blood drawn the natural way.”
“Too bad for them it isn’t that way.”
“So, I think somebody’s watching me. Figure FBI’s got a guard out on us?”
“Oh yeah. I bet they could even listen into conversations on anything we own.”
“Yo, agents! Isn’t it a little rude to eavesdrop?! :P”
“I’ve got to get going. I hear someone driving up the driveway. See you next time.”
“All right. See you later.”
Conor smiled as he logged off of Skype. At least one of them had made it all right. That would be enough for now.
Matthew pressed himself stealthily against the hangar wall.The moment he’d heard those voices, he knew it would be best to remain out of sight. He may have been authorized, but he was also technically an impossibility. Better not to have to deal with people trying to kidnap him or treat him like a dumb beast of burden. He scowled as memories of this particular voice’s owner flashed by. He honestly wished Marriott or Westgate would buy the idiot out, but so far, there had been no such luck, not even after three years of being away.
‘Oh, sweet Faust, don’t let his daughter see me,’ Matthew prayed fervently in his mind. That girl was worse than Diamond Tiara, and that’s saying something. He held his breath before slowly letting it out and slipping towards the back of the hangar. Then he turned a corner and stopped. The back of the airport had changed, but it still felt like he was walking onto an airfield during WWII. Steel plates had been laid out on the ground, and a primitive control tower jutted up in the distance. From that angle, a person could easily see the whole airport, including Matthew’s current position. Doing his best to avoid being detected, he darted between two more hangars and took a few calming breaths.
Suddenly, the main bay doors on the left hangar rumbled open as a half-assembled B-17 slowly rolled out into the sunlight. The workers must have just arrived to start maintenance. He hastily scanned the area for any witnesses, before turning around and making a break for the second hangar. Its doors were cracked open just widely enough for a human to slip through. Fortunately, that meant a Pony could get in no problem.
The transition from light to dark was comforting, and easier on his eyes. His ears swivelled as he waited for the men to pass. As he had suspected, it didn’t take much time. In few minutes, the men had come and gone. Matthew sighed in relief as he sat down on the cold cement floor and looked up at the collection of planes, and more particularly, at a white wing with a red ball towards its tip.
“Well don’t just sit there. Come help your uncle out with this gun. The Mustang’s going to jam in next week's air show if we don’t work on it now.”
Matthew jumped and, without thinking, shouted, “Coming, Uncle!” only to realize that he was speaking Equish again. He smiled at the familiar language as he weaved to the back. Under the wing of the Zero and the Messerschmitt, his eyes darted to another corner, where a Supermarine Spitfire sat, looking like it would be ready to take to the sky at a moment’s notice. There in the back, with its access hatch open for the wing cannons’ maintenance, was the P-51 Mustang. The translucent back end of a Pony rooted around in the compartment. Matthew opened his wings, flew up, and landed on the step zone for the plane.
“Good. Now see that bit I’m holding? Use that wing of yours to slide it out,” the Pony grunted.
Matthew was more than a little confused why the Pony had his great uncle’s voice, but he continued forward, slipped his wing in, and saw the item. It was a little brighter than the other parts. He pushed it and grinned. It was just a slim piece of metal. He easily worked it out with his wings, accompanied by the many words of praise from the mysterious Pony. The pair spent the next ten minutes working to oil and fix the plane. By the time he was done, Matthew smelled of oil and sweat, but the cannon would work now.
The translucent Pony pulled its head out of the wing and sat there, grinning. His mane was a mix of black and white, with a yellow stripe going between the two colors. The main coat was the same grey as some of the Unicorn guards from Canterlot, and his cutie mark was a thundercloud with two bolts of lighting and blue dots of rain. He stretched his wings and continued to smile as he looked over Matthew’s state. The two continued to stare at each other for a long while, before the ghost smiled. “I knew I would see you again.”
“Uncle . . . are you trying to make me feel better?” Matthew asked. “Because this is a little freaky.”
“Nah,” his uncle replied as he waved his wing dismissively. “I know Discord told you that your friend had to have another life exchanged to get him to stay and fight the other human.” He proudly placed a hoof to his chest. “Storm Cloud’s the name. Emergency Commander for the Equestrian Forces during the reign of Discord.” He chuckled as Matthew’s jaw dropped open, and his eyes widened. “Why else do you think I asked you kids to keep calling me Uncle Cloud? Had to keep a piece of my old name alive somehow.” Storm Cloud laughed. “But yes, it really is your Great Uncle Scott.”
“But . . . but that means. . . .” He faced-hoofed. “That means I was related to . . . is this some cruel twist of fate? You lived your life as a human, lived through the Second World War, and so fate, or the universe, or God decided that he needed to give one of our family members back to Equis?”
“Don’t be like that,” Storm Cloud glowered. Matthew was sure he could hear thunder roll in the distance. “You and I both know that’s not true. And on top of that, if you got the chance to choose, you know you would do it all over again in a heartbeat. You made your cloud bed. Now it’s time to lie in it.” He smiled kindly. “Now you can go report back to the Princesses. I know they’ve worried about me ever since that day. They felt responsible for what happened. I don’t want them to have to bear that guilt anymore. Let them know I was very happy to live on Earth.” He smiled as he patted the Mustang’s wing. “I enjoyed these planes. They were the closest I could get to my old form. Did you know–?”
“That the first time you were given solo time on a plane, you did an aileron and barrel roll, all without training, and, as you told the instructor, it was instinct. You knew what the plane could and couldn’t do, and just where you could redline it, before you even learned its specs.”
Storm Cloud nodded. “Yeah, I did, but sometimes I felt the hits on the wings, too, like pinpricks in my arms. I never lost a plane, but I sure had some bad landings…”
“I saw the pictures. Aunt Selma said you landed one plane, even when the landing gear broke. You had cut the engine, and the impact destroyed the prop when the wheels snapped. You slid a ways, and as it slid, you remained harnessed, slid the canopy back, and the moment you could, you bailed.”
“Not a scratch on me. I brought the plane back, but it was touch close.”
“I think I understand why you hated the jets now.” Matthew frowned with ears pinned back and feathers bristled. His uncle looked much the same, with a grimace on his face like he’d eaten a sour lemon. Both burst into laughter.
They talked for some time as they caught up on past events, their times as commanders, basic training, and other moments they could bond over. Finally, Storm Cloud got up and stretched. “I’d better get going, kiddo. Got things to do, places to see. I’ve just got one thing to ask. Don’t fight with Selma when she asks, okay? She’s just as stubborn as I was, and she’ll get her way one way or the other. Take her back with you, when you can. If you don’t, she’ll find a way. She’s already getting her will ready for execution once she’s gone.”
“What?”
Storm Cloud chuckled as he faded away. “You think a Pegasus at heart would ever settle for less than a warrior of a woman? She’s going to have her way, so take the path of least resistance. It’ll be a lot easier. I love you, Nephew.”
“Uncle Cloud. . . .”
“There you are!” Matthew jerked awake and let out a sound similar to a goat before flopping onto his back with his legs locked in the air. Lunar Fang glared down at him, a security badge dangling around her neck like a pendulum. Had he really been asleep? But . . . it all felt so real. “It’s almost two, and we have to find some way to dress up for the party!”
“H-hello, Lunar Fang.” He slowly rose to his feet and rubbed his head. “And . . . party?”
“Yes, a party. Your family wants you to help out. Your face has already showed up on the town’s facebook page, and YouTube, and your cousins submitted that picture to the website, whatever those things mean.”
“Oh . . . right. Uh . . . I . . . guess we had better go.” He looked up to see a familiar tool box still sitting on the old plane’s wing. “I just need to pick up after my uncle.”
Lunar Fang paused, then nodded as her expression softened. “Was he a good man?”
“Yes, he was, and, well, he did poke Discord in the eye at one point.” He picked up the toolbox and returned it to one of the workbenches, then rejoined Lunar Fang.
Lunar Fang laughed. “Based on what your family told me about him, I’d have to agree.”
Matthew waited till they reached the hangar door, where some of his family stood. “No. I mean really. He actually poked Discord in the eye. Why else do you think he picked the second Commander to switch places with Conor in the first place?”
Lunar Fang stopped dead in her tracks and stared at Matthew, then to the humans and back to Matthew. “. . . What?” she asked as her brain failed to compute what she’d just heard.
Matthew smiled knowingly. “Right. I think we’ll save that explanation for tonight. So, are you all ready for the party?”
To his surprise and confusion, no one fell over.
Grif was certain he was in the right area, but he’d circled within a ten mile radius twice now, and found nothing. It was frustrating, and his wings were beginning to get sore. He was afraid he’d have to land and try to find someone to ask for directions, when his eye caught the deep brown feathers and pearly white head of a bald eagle. With a relieved sigh, Grif let out a loud cry, which caused the eagle to stop in its flight.
Grif cried again once he was closer.
“Greetings, great high feather! May your flights be calm and your nest be peaceful. This lion bird wonders if your flights have seen you a horse bird or a horse bat?”
The eagle and he circled each other for a few minutes as the bird of prey considered his request. Finally, it let out a shrill cry.
“Horse bird and bat bird this high feather has seen. Tail follow, lion bird, and this high feather will take you.”
Grif let out a warble of thanks as the eagle led him through the air some twelve miles to the west.
“This high feather has seen horse bird and horse bat amongst the hums nesting in this place. May your hunts be fruitful!”
“And may your talons pierce much!” Grif lowered his beak with respect, before going into a dive. He let out a loud leonine roar as he stopped a hundred feet above ground.
Matthew and Lunar Fang were in the backyard region of the land adjusting their armor. While it wasn’t a full dress uniform, it never hurt to be prepared for any surprises, and now that the cat was out of the bag, they needed to be prepared. Matthew’s breastplate had a small dent from where Mark had shot it with a rifle. They all looked on in shock when they found the bullet hadn’t pierced. Then Matthew and Lunar Fang paused as they heard wing beats, followed by a lion’s roar. The two of them looked up, and Matthew grinned as the the Gryphon came plummeting down.
Meanwhile, Grif suddenly saw his landing zone littered with children in costumes as they looked up and cheered, while the adults looked on in utter shock. He heard the distinct click of at least three cameras. He slowed his descent slightly as he reached twenty feet above ground, before rising back up, turning into a front flip, and turning the ruby on his bracer. In a flash, a very human Taze landed on the ground with a loud boom. His right knee was fully on the ground with his left raised slightly. His right hand was balled into a fist and driven into the ground, and his head was bowed. A small draft pushed the dust that had been shot into the air away as he stood on his feet and observed the people in front of him.
“. . . ‘Sup?”
He was swarmed by children, one dressed as Superman, another as Batman, another as a princess, well, two princesses, a pirate, a soldier in a very flimsy outfit, and more, but at the moment, he could only hear a chorus of “Again! Again!” or “Go back to the wings!”
Matthew and Lunar Fang just smiled.
“So you finally got to visit.” Matthew chuckled. “How long do you have? Did you have a good time on your journey? Are you tired from your flight?” He sounded almost like Pinkie and Twilight when they got into one of their inquisitive moods. “Regardless, I have so much to show you. . . . But tonight is the party. Maybe after. We start in thirty minutes. It should last about three hours, and then I can take you around downtown and show you the sites.”
Taze chuckled as he transformed back into Grif, and laughed as the kids swarmed him. He held his wings out for their animated inspection. “Well, you know, it seemed like I’d have more liberty to fly here. And besides, we’re practically family, right? I’m your daughter's godfather. As for my trip, I finished my necessary business, and figured the time would be easier spent away from home.”
“I think I can understand that.” Matthew nodded as a hard glint shone in his eyes. “I just . . . I need this leave, for both my sides.” His eyes widened. “Don’t you dare pull his tail,” he snapped at a three-year-old cousin. “What did your mom and dad teach you about pulling your dog or your cat’s tail? Or what about Aunty Fang’s tail?” He kept a stern gaze on the child till he stepped away. Then he snorted and turned back to Grif and sighed. “I just wish I could have Moon River here. She would enjoy this.”
A poor flimsy red plastic suction cup arrow landed with a pathetic flop. “Also, the toys aren’t so good,” Lunar Fang said as they looked at a very young Robin Hood.
Matthew started suddenly. “Oh, Grif. I found out what happened to that commander after Discord’s little event with Conor.”
“Oh?” Grif asked as he balanced two laughing children on each outstretched wing.
“How. . .?” Matthew asked. “I just . . . but they don’t have wings. How did they get up there so fast?” He blinked, and suddenly he found a child trying to climb the Gryphon’s hind legs. “Anyway, yes, I did. Would you like to guess what happened to that poor Pony?”
“Well chaos magic could mean any number of things, plus there is what almost happened to Conor.” Grif shrugged. “I’m not sure.”
“Can you promise me that if you faceplant, you will keep the kids from harm?”
“You know me better than that,” Grif said in a serious tone, which was quite comical as one child messed with his crest.
“The lost Pony’s name was Storm Cloud. You remember that name, right?”
“Wasn’t he one of your subordinates? Second commander or something?” Grif asked.
“He was the Commander, my rank, during the time of Discord’s reign. With the snap of one paw, Discord removed the highest ranked officer in our military at the time.” He sighed. “Six months ago, my Great Uncle Scott passed away.” He rubbed his muzzle. “I am just going to out and out say it.” He sighed again. “The two are one and the same. My adopted great uncle is Commander Storm Cloud. Do you know the headache I am going to have when that comes out? The number of requests to create nobles from his descendents? The requests for pilgrimage to his grave?”
“Look at it this way. You got a rare opportunity to know one of Equestria’s war heroes personally after he supposedly died. Do you have any idea how many historians would have sold their souls, just to get that chance?”
“He was my hero growing up,” Matthew said sadly. “Both here and in Equestria.” Lunar Fang put a consoling wing on her husband and nuzzled him gently.
“All right, boys, that’s enough talking about warping space and time and traveling between dimensions. We have a party to get to.” Ethan, Matthew’s father, glanced nervously at the uneasy looks from the other parents. “Also, I think it might be best to have the kids not riding on an armored, predatory, ancient . . . mythical . . . being. . . .” He trailed off and shook his head. “When did our lives get so crazy?”
“You think your lives are crazy? Try fighting a Minotaur head-on.” Grif chuckled. “Okay. Everybody off.”
Somehow, little Elizabeth had managed to climb all the way up to Grif’s neck, and clung to it fiercely. “No. I want to fly. I want to fly!”
“Come on, Elizabeth, honey, come to mommy. Let’s not annoy your uncle’s friend too much.”
“NO!” She shrieked as she did her best to slap her mother’s hands away, then wrapped her arms firmly around Grif’s neck in true fussy child fashion. “Fly!” Her face began to turn red as tears started to form in her eyes.
“Get on,” Grif instructed as he looked at Rachel. “And keep her steady.”
Rachel looked confused, and more than a little frightened, but Mark just smiled as he approached and laid a comforting hand on her shoulder, even as he held a camera in the other. “Don’t worry. I’m sure if we have Uncle Matthew fly underneath, it’ll be fine. You can catch things, right, Matthew?”
“Sure.” Matthew shrugged. “I can act as a net.” He looked to Lunar Fang. “Come on. This will be a lot easier than Moon River’s trying to fly out the tower window.”
She nodded and grinned. “Don’t worry, Rachel. Grif is a great godfather. He won’t let anything harm her. If anything were to happen, we’d be there to take care of it.”
Rachel stared in utter confusion and disbelief at the laughter as Mark and Ethan joined in. “You’re all insane!”
“No. We’re just professionals,” Grif said. “You really don’t have to worry, Ma’am.” He gently grabbed her arm and pulled her towards him as Mark helped her on. “Legs go here and here,” he instructed. “The skin under the feathers on my neck is loose, so don’t worry about grabbing onto it. Keep the little one close to your chest and sitting down, and breathe. I’ll make this short and smooth. No sudden tricks. Just a straight flight.”
Matthew smiled. “Sure. We can beat you all to the party.” He looked back at the others. “We’ll give you the time to get into the cars and start driving. Oh, and could one of you put one of those . . . video cameras? . . . around my neck? I don’t want to miss out on my little Liz’s first flight.”
“She’s already–”
“Not like this, Mark. This is real flying. No tin tube with jokes for wings.” Soon a GoPro camera was around his neck, and the trio of vans left. “Okay, Grif. Let’s go. Straight as the Thestral flies.”
Grif spread his wings out fully. As a Gryphon, his wingspan reached nearly twice the size of Matthew’s. The air around him reverberated as he began to flap. It took him a few tries to get the necessary power to lift off the ground, especially since he had two passengers, but once he did, he ascended quickly, until he hovered a full twenty feet off the ground. “Everything okay back there?” he asked.
Matthew and Lunar Fang both took up wingman positions. “Yeah, we’re all okay,” Matthew answered, even as Elizabeth giggled with excitement and Rachel clung to his neck for dear life. “The air just feels… off. More… dead, I suppose,” he said in Equish.
“You take point, Pensword. You know the way, and Lunar Fang is quick enough, if anything happens,” Grif said.
“Roger. And Grif, it’s Matthew while we’re here. My family knows me better by that name, and besides, it’s good to actually be Matthew again, even if it is only in deed, if not in form.” Matthew smiled as he increased his altitude, then banked to the side. They followed the road for a time, until they caught sight of a large stone building. “There's the county jail. Lunar Fang and I will be spending an hour from midnight to one tonight to appease my crazy aunt. It seems getting married a thousand years ago in another world still counts as eloping in her book.” He chuckled as he recalled her outburst after she’d had time to process the news. “Further down the road will be the newer part of town, with the two manor apartments. Then we’ll hit Education Road. The auditorium is the big flat white building. We’ll land in the field in back, and walk into the rear doors onto the gym floor.”
“Roger. But seriously? She’s making that big a deal of it, even though it was an official ceremony with the only family you, as Matthew, had left in the world, and handled by a reigning monarch in one of the most lavish war weddings in recorded history?” Grif asked with a skeptical eyebrow raised.
“Yes. With a reproduction copy of the painting of the wedding. This is why we call her Crazy Aunt Strickland.” He laughed. “However, it does help the museum, so I will give them two bits and a tiny ruby as my ‘fine.’”
“Well at least coming here won’t be boring. Oh, and you can inform your little ones tomorrow. No rides until after I finish my workout, okay?” Grif said. “I know I doomed myself there, after I let them climb on me earlier.”
“I’ll do my best. If anything, you will have them watching you, or trying to mimic you.” He sighed. “They did that this afternoon when they whined about not having the same ‘cool armor’ that I do. Honestly, what happened to a good old-fashioned armor blacksmith? I need to hire one. This town could really use it, and cloud towers. . . .” He frowned. “Grif, I think I want to fortify my town, make it so Fort Knox looks like a pill box by comparison. With two supposedly magical creatures visiting here, it might become a target. We need to keep it safe.”
“And? In case you forgot, your talking to the guy who made his clan compound an impenetrable fortress,” Grif said pointedly. “Besides, I don’t think River would appreciate it if you left this place without interesting things to crawl on.”
“I will do my best.” He paused. “SHOOT!” He flicked his wings to halt in the air before flapping to hover and searching around the area. At last his eyes rested on a fluffy cloud, and he immediately darted towards it.
“Oh, right. He offered to let the kids play with a cloud,” Lunar Fang said as she struggled to hold back the fit of giggles at her husband’s antics.
They soon got back on course, with Matthew pushing a much more solid-looking cloud. A grin had overtaken his muzzle. “Right. First things first. We’ll commandeer the fire towers as watchtowers, and build up security gates on Draw Bridge Road.”
“Might be wiser to let Lunar Fang take the cloud down, Matthew,” Grif noted.
“Okay, but why?” Matthew ask as the two switched positions. He coughed a little, then whipped his hoof on his armor. Even without the sudden sensation against his fur, he heard the sound of wet fibers shifting beneath the metal plates. His eyes widened, but he did his best to maintain his course.
“We’re stitched together by thaumic energy, and it takes thaumic energy to resupply our magic here. Use too much power, and you’ll come apart at the seams.”
“That isn’t good.” Matthew shuddered. “Sombra?” he asked as he took a few breaths. It slowly grew easier as he glided along the thermals and caught his breath again.
“You remember when you blocked that mace with your chest?” Grif asked, and then waved his claw in a violent gesture.
“Internal damage. . . . Of course.” Matthew shuddered. “Also, remember you have a rather innocent child on your back.”
Grif looked behind him to find that, thankfully, Elizabeth was too distracted by the wind and the thrill of flying in the open air. Rachel, however, was another story. She looked sadly at Matthew. “Is this true?”
Matthew nodded grimly. “Yes, it is. This power is keeping me alive.”
“I’m sorry,” Grif said. “Still, the facts are what they are. We should hold off on using magic too much. It’s not good for us.”
“I agree. Just . . . I don’t want little Liz knowing her big uncle got big boo boos during the wars, alright?” Matthew asked. “Tonight, we’re giving out all the gifts Lunar Fang and I brought from Equestria. We’ll be going over the war and everything else later with the FBI. I heard that the Director himself is meeting us tonight at ten, after all the kids are in bed. If you are willing, I would like you to be there.”
“I’ve always got your back,” Grif said with a nod. “How far off are we?”
“See the spotlights that just went live? That is our destination,” Matthew answered with a grin. “Strange. There’s no snow yet. We always had snow this time of year before. I guess that means the blizzard is going to be bad for Halloween.”
“It will come,” Grif said knowingly. “It’s in the air.”
“I agree, but it feels strange.”
As they landed, once again, they were swarmed by total strangers and confusion. The cops were called; Sheriff and deputies showed up, including one of Matthew’s cousins; talks were given; statements taken. A shouting match about hoaxes and property followed. A mean adult found his face in the cloud, which he said felt surprisingly like cotton: a soft, breathable cotton. An hour later, Matthew, Lunar Fang, and Grif were finally able to just enjoy the party, while young Elizabeth joyfully related her experience on Grif’s back as they flew.
“That,” Matthew began, sounding winded and tired. “That was annoying. I was half surprised the military didn’t show up.”
“We’ve had worse on a Tuesday, any Tuesday. And given Tue– oh no!” Grif stopped.
“What? It’s Saturday,” Matthew responded
“Yes, it’s Saturday here, but it’s Sunday in Equestria. Pensword, when we get back, it will be Tuesday!”
“Oh no.” Matthew face hoofed. “I am going to be wearing my armor and wing blades. Be ready for anything.”
“What’s wrong with going back?” Mark asked.
Robert, who was wearing a Solar Guard mock up, while his twin wore Lunar Guard armor from the show, looked at each other. “Uh, in the show, disasters usually happen on Tuesdays in Ponyville.”
“How can they get that one fact right?” Matthew yelled.
“A broken clock is right twice a day,” Grif quipped.
“Yeah, but you were Scottish, I was Australian, and Hammer was Russian. We had . . . look, the episodes are horribly messed up, if they got those characters wrong. I am banning any episodes being brought back.”
“But . . . but what about the plunder vines?” Robert asked with a worried expression on his face.
“Fiction. Do you truly think Princess Luna would be captured by Discord?” He snorted derisively.
“All right, that’s enough.” Mark stepped forward to get between them. “You two have been going at it for the last couple of hours.”
“Well at least it's nice outside,” Matthew grumbled.
“Nice? Do you know how chilly it is here?” Robert cried out.
“I am covered in fur, with armor used to fly in the sky at cloud level,” Matthew responded. “I am literally built for colder weather conditions.”
“Oh,” came the universal response.
Shawn rolled his shoulders as he made his way home. He’d chosen to walk and take in the sights of his old home town. He could faintly remember the layout of things: old roads he use to travel, shortcuts to avoid traffic. He even remembered what street his old house was on. How strange it was to remember all these simple things. Most people would think he was insane to have forgotten them. Most people didn’t know insanity until they’d been to Ponyville on a Tuesday.
He focused more on his thoughts and the sights than audio as his ears constantly picked up on the rumble of car engines passing in either direction. He turned down his street and followed the path towards his old home from before the family had moved, only to be stopped by a small crowd of individuals surrounding a burning house.
“Isn’t that . . . ?” he wondered out loud for a moment, before realising he was, in fact, standing in front of his old house. “Well then. . . .”
“Stand back. Please, stand back,” a police officer ordered as folks jostled about on the sidewalk. Many were recording the events with their phones, and he noticed one man had a normal camera pointing at things before he remembered that cameras could record as well in this world. One man ran up with an actual digital film recorder.
‘Well, it looks like they have everything under control,’ he thought to himself as he fought the urge to step in. “I’m sure they have it perfectly under wraps.”
After a moment, he exhaled and began walking around the crowd. ‘It’s fine. It’s fine. Don’t get involved. Just blend in . . . as best as you can in a dress shirt, vest–’
A blood-curdling scream tore him out of his thoughts as his head jerked towards the building. ‘They might have it covered?’
He noted that the firefighters weren’t making their way into the building, but seemed to be pulling out as the flames shot higher and burned hotter. They had grown too unruly to control.
‘Blend in, I said. Don’t stand out, I said!’ he thought to himself, even as he made his way towards the building and past the crowd. ‘Damn it,’ he swore.
“Sir. Stay back. They have everything under control–” the officer was cut off as Shawn gently moved him out of the way, pushing the barrier aside with little effort.
This time, a firefighter in full gear tried to stop him. “Stay back! The fire is too dangerous. The floor’s about to collapse.”
Yet again, Shawn simply pushed past the man and the others that tried to stop him, easily pushing them aside with his strength. His pace picked up as he shoved his way into the building, the heat having no effect on him as he moved through the crumbling walls while the supports crackled and creaked in protest against the flames. He braced himself and let the sounds pour through again, listening for any indication that would help point out where the person he’d heard was located.
First, he tried the open rooms on the landing. He couldn’t risk pushing into the closed rooms, or he could make things worse, either giving the flames more fuel, or worse, taking away from the building’s structural stability. He couldn’t feel the temperature of handles with his natural immunity, and he couldn’t see if there was more smoke exiting the rooms with all the smoke already hanging in the air. There were too many variables working against his senses.
Time was running short as he noticed the noises he’d first heard had stopped. Whoever had cried out may have passed out due to lack of oxygen. He doubled his pace as he nearly started to run through the house, until he met a familiar flight of stairs. The wood would be able to hold his weight for now, but the floor upstairs would be structurally weaker. The fireman had said so before he’d entered. Despite that risk, Shawn made his way up, and began searching one room at a time. He grew more frustrated with every second that passed. Each room was empty, and without the crying, there was no way to identify which closed door the person might be behind. He was running out of time.
He nearly growled as he focused on the fires around him and throughout the building. The aspectual energy was only growing. There was no way to sense where the person could be at this rate. At that moment, he decided to take a risk, and began pulling at the energy in the flames, bringing it from its current form into raw energy, and solidifying it in front of him.
Grasping the red crystal as it formed, he could feel the fires grow dull and sputter to nothing. He exhaled heavily, pocketing the crystal as he began feeling the aspects around him once more. With the fires finally gone, he could get a better feel for the thaumic energies in the environment without the smothering effect of the flame aspect. It took a moment, but he was happy to feel life force, the victus aspect. Whomever had screamed, that person was alive. Unconscious, but still alive. Honing in on that aspect, he swiftly made his way across the floor, surprised to find that it did indeed still hold his weight. The door had been darkened by the flames, but had not succumbed to the fires yet. After testing the knob, he easily opened the door and stared.
There, inside the room, a little boy lay pinned beneath a fallen toy shelf. That was likely the cause of his sudden scream of terror, and would explain why he had fallen silent. A stream of blood trickled from the place where he’d been struck as the unit fell. Shawn quickly took note of the bruising that had begun to form along the arms. He’d need to be careful in case any bones had been broken, but the most important thing was getting this kid out of the building first. He could already smell the smoke starting to build again. The flames were reclaiming their fuel from the embers, and slowly beginning to consume.
He could faintly hear conversations outside questioning what was going on as he easily removed the shelf and gently probed the boy’s body for any breaks. He sighed in relief as he found no signs. “You are lucky, boy,” he muttered. “Congratulations.”
Shawn scooped the boy up like he would a handful of sand, and cradled him in his arms as he navigated back down the stairs and through the heat of the flames to the entrance. A few stray beams and debris had piled up in front of the door, but he was able to deal with it easily as he shoved one concussive boot against the obstacle, causing it to burst apart. The cool air brushed against his face as he carried the boy away from the site and towards the EMS workers on standby, even as the fire fighters leaped on the opportunity to smother the significantly reduced flames.
The crowd of spectators who had gathered stood staring at Shawn, dumbfounded. After a very long awkward silence, someone finally broke out with a cheer. In an instant, the noise became deafening as the crowd positively roared for Shawn.
Shawn’s eye twitched. The sudden noise hurt his ears. Looking to the emergency response team, he held the young boy, and offered his limp form to them. “Don’t remember much for medical help. He’s alive, but needs to be looked over.”
The worker nodded as she handed the boy to one of her partners, then turned back to Shawn. “They’ll take care of him. A little oxygen, and he should hopefully come around. We’ll know better after we’ve gotten him to the hospital. In the meantime, I need to take a look at you. You leapt into a blazing fire, and . . . how are your clothes not even singed?”
“Specially made material.”
She raised a brow. “Well, at the very least, I need to check your lungs. It doesn’t look like you suffered any other injuries.” She placed a stethoscope to Shawn’s chest and moved it about as she listened to him breathe. She frowned. “It sounds like you’ve got some fluid in your lungs. We’ll need to take you back to the hospital for more tests. Your skin isn’t looking too good either.”
“I’m fine. Just soot. Possibly even some fragments of wood and stone.”
“You could have scarring in your lungs, not to mention airborne particles. If we don’t get you looked at, you could die in a matter of hours. Like it or not, you’re taking a ride with us.”
“Nah. I’ve dealt with worse. Trust me. A little fire isn’t going to kill me.” Shawn chuckled at the thought.
She fixed him with a glare that would even give Celestia pause. “You are going to sit there, these firemen are going to watch you sit there, and I am getting you an ambulance to ride. Your lungs aren’t good, and you’re turning paler by the minute, which means you’re likely bleeding internally. That means I have a medical justification to detain you, so sit down, shut up, and don’t try to run.” She snapped her head up. “Luke, Bill, keep him here. John, keep those cameras away.”
Shawn watched two firemen walk over to keep an eye on him. Chewing the inside of his cheek, he thought to some of his research. It had mentioned the possibility of consuming aspects though liquid means for temporary enhancement, but what would happen with consumption of a crystallized aspect? If he could do it, that is. Sure, he had the strength, but this was biting into what was essentially the equivalent of a gemstone. A highly volatile, explosive gemstone. . . . Great.
“How does somebody walk into a fire like that, and not come out with a single burn?” Luke, the taller of the two asked. His mask and tank had been removed to reveal sweaty dirty blond hair that had been combed back over his head. His green eyes looked curiously at their temporary ward, before returning his focus on his companion.
Bill simply shrugged. His hair was a short brown cropped buzz cut with a flat top. His thicker eyebrows and bulging neck hinted at the the musculature that hid beneath all the fireman’s gear he still had on. “Heck if I know.”
“I simply developed a natural resistance to fire,” Shawn replied as he reached into his coat, breaking off a small chip of the fire crystal, while being careful not to crack the core. After a brief moment of additional debate, he popped it into his mouth. It faintly reminded him of some sort of spice. Then again, it might just be that it was raw heat in a solid form. He was pleasantly surprised to find he could feel some energy returning to him. His field was absorbing the crushed form of the crystal through his body. That would definitely be something to add to the book later.
“What the heck are you?” Luke asked with wide eyes as the pair watched Shawn’s body change right before their eyes. Shawn’s skin had become less pale, and his breathing more steady.
“A guy with abnormal traits compared to most people.” Shawn shrugged as he popped another shard in his mouth, crunching it. “I’d offer you a piece, but I’m pretty sure nobody here could handle it,” he finished with a chuckle. ‘That, and I’m pretty sure it would kill you,’ he thought to himself.
“Yeah. I’m going to look over here now,” Bill said, turning away.
Shawn crunched on the last bit of the crystal, feeling his energy return enough to perhaps make an . . . interesting escape. It was obvious he was going to be followed if he just walked his way out of the area. After a moment he stood up from his seat, stretching before he looked for a viable location to try his experiment.
“Hey. The nurse said sit down,” Luke said as he reached out to restrain Shawn. Not that he actually could succeed, even if he wanted to.
“I know. I’m just moving to some shade,” Shawn replied with a small grin as he made his way towards a tree. He ignored the response as he stepped into the shade. Taking a breath, he focused on the lunar magic within him. “Sorry, gentlemen, but this is where we part ways.”
“What the fu–?” The Firefighters both shouted in horror as they stepped back. Shawn had disappeared into the tree’s shadow before their very eyes.
“. . . Did you see that?” Luke asked.
“I didn’t see anything. Did you see anything?” Bill asked.
“Nope.”
“Then we’re agreed.”
“Yup.”
“Good. Dibs on not telling Michelle what happened.”
Luke gaped. “You son of a–!”
Shawn smiled as he stepped out of the shade next to his home. He could feel a faint pain in his chest as he coughed up the congealed blood to clear his lungs. “Gah! Delightful. . . . Too much energy.”
He frowned as he made his way inside, finding his parents, uncle, and a new guest.
“. . . Gramma?”
Matthew sat down in his padded chair as he looked through the cushy city council room. The room held no windows, and was lit by a series of track lights in the ceiling. The long, oval table stretched on, seating each of the individuals for this meeting with plenty of room to spare. As a surprise, the children had taken the liberty of decorating the room to look like a treehouse with a familiar wooden shield that sat behind the agent and other government officials. He couldn’t help but chuckle at the CMC logo, which reminded him of the time he spent handing out the gifts for his entire family less than thirty minutes ago. Grif sat in the corner, balancing a stiletto on his talons. He had deigned not to join the main conversation.
“So, you are Director Jon.” Matthew looked to the right. “As well as the representative for Diplomatic agreements, Miss. . .?”
“Miss Fletcher,” the woman responded. Her coppery hair had been tied up into a tight bun and a pair of horn-rimmed glasses. Her slim black dress highlighted her hourglass figure and accentuated the impression of her rigid formality. “Appointed by the president this morning.”
‘Good to see you again, Miss Fletcher.” Agent Umbridge smiled sickeningly sweetly at her from her place across the table.
“Of course, Agent Umbridge.” Miss Fletcher slid her glasses up her nose. Now what was this about new foreign relations?”
Agent Green looked to his Director before settling down as Matthew pushed the first scroll forward.
“I have letters of introduction placing my credentials and status as a high level rank within the kingdom of Equestria.” Then he pushed forward a small bundle of scrolls. “These are letters of greeting from Princesses Twilight; Celestia, the High Chieftess of all Thestrals, Princess Luna; and this last one is from the Queen of the Crystal Empire, Mi Amore Cadenza.” He paused as he saw a few suspicious looks directed to the corner where Grif was still playing with the knife. “Grif is a friend of the crown. Consider him like you would a guard for my protection. I am meeting on your soil in your land, after all.”
Grif looked at them and proceeded to mimic the cries of an emu.
“Yes. Well … lets hope for no more surprises, okay, dear?” Umbridge said, eyeing Grif warily.
“I cannot promise anything,” Matthew answered with a completely straight face.
“You said before that this nation currently has no way of communicating with our world,” Director Jon said. “So if I might ask, why did your leaders have these documents prepared?”
“So that when communications are opened up, we can get right to trade deals or just exchange ideas and cultural papers, things to help learn about one another and the like.” He chuckled. “And to give one of the newly-crowned princesses the chance to spearhead leading a diplomatic effort.” He shuddered as he recalled the hours Twilight spent sending him letters or showing up to talk to him while he was visiting Ponyville. That mare may have grown somewhat as a leader, but she was still pretty nervous. “I also have these. It is an agreement that we won’t harm your citizens, and you won’t harm our citizens, as well as just a formal agreement saying that we wish to open friendly relations when we can maintain more steady communications.”
Lunar Fang remained silent as she tended to the box of scrolls. Her eyes focused on Fletcher and Umbridge.
“I see. And according to the report I received, the name of your nation is … Equestria?” Miss Fletcher asked. “And this one entity known as Queen Cadence also rules in another country called the Crystal Empire? Is there some more formal name to it we should be aware of?”
“Those are correct. Those are the correct English words.” He smiled, but inwardly, was a little saddened that he couldn’t say more.
“And these letters of yours. They’re written in your people's language?”
“Well, first, that would be rude. You wouldn’t know what you would be signing for one thing. The other is that one of our princesses wanted to try to write English.” He nodded to Lunar Fang. “However, we do have these copies in our native language, so you can compare and translate.”
Director Jon looked to Fletcher. “I do believe, Miss Fletcher, that protocol says their language is their own, until such a time as their leaders greenlight them to hand it over to us.”
“This is the greenlight from Princess Twilight, seeing as she has already translated one tenth of her library to English. She wishes to gift you the chance for knowledge, learning and growth.” He handed a scroll to Director Jon. “This is a translation of English into our language.”
“The Global Accords dictate we’ll have to alert the rest of the nations of this development as well. Will you and your party be staying long?” Fletcher asked.
Matthew shook his head. “This was, for me, a . . . farewell and a hello, as you might have been told.” He looked at Director Jon. “I have duties and tasks I must carry out for my nation. I will be leaving in the next day or two.” He smiled and nodded to Lunar Fang. She pulled a rather thick scroll from the pile. “This is a scroll the princesses have drawn up in your language to designate the human Conor Ignus Vulpes as the Equestrian representative. After a regrettable incident brought him to our kingdom, it is our wish for him to live a normal life as much as he can. We believe he should be home with his family again by now, and seeing as he is the only human to remain human … so to speak, who has been to Equestria, he will be the only expert on our kingdom and our world. He will be the one you will wish to talk to about these global accords.”
“You designated a human from our country as your ambassador?”
“Not our ambassador; yours. At least until he can train the one appointed by your president. Due to the fact that he has lived in the land, eaten our food, fought in a Changeling attack, met our rulers, and made friends with our people, he knows the land and culture better than anyone could understand from the records I am leaving with you today. I wish in no way to step on your toes. We just know that knowledge about our lands will be scarce, and this will speed things up. Considering his personal knowledge, he is the most qualified for the position.”
“Based on what little we know of your–” she cleared her throat “–culture, I assume he was treated very well.”
“He was, and some might say still is. I just hope the culture shock isn’t too much,” Matthew replied with a coy smile.
“Then, Commander Pensword, on behalf of the United States government, we thank you for these documents, and will inform your rulers at a later date of our nation’s and our world’s decision in these matters.” Fletcher extended a hand.
Matthew stood up on the chair and reached forward, bumping his hoof to her hand. He smiled, but inside, he was nervous. This meeting was going far too smoothly. If this was Canterlot, there would have been concessions asked, or demanded. Earth was tougher than those nobles. “I understand. I hope that, when I visit again, you will have an answer.” He frowned. “Please read the scroll with the red silk and the yellow, blue, and red seals. That will inform you of what to do if something happens out of our control.” He moved back to sitting at the table. “Just back up plans. For anything that might rock the boat.”
“And theoretically, you and your people are here illegally right now.” Fletcher fished out three little blue leather books with a golden seal on them. “These are passports. You’ll be able to use them for when you enter into the country. And if you open the covers, you’ll find temporary visas and a diplomatic identification.”
Matthew’s eye twitched. It took Matthew two months of paperwork and waiting to get his passport, and here he was, an alien, a pony no less, getting one in less than two days. “Thank you.” He felt just slightly offended, but he chalked it up to one of necessity and ignorance, rather than one of intent.
The humans, two Ponies, and one Gryphon bade each other goodnight, and the meeting ended with a surprise win, and rather smooth opening. Matthew knocked a hoof against the wooden door frame on the way out. He nodded to Grif and Lunar Fang as he prepared for his hour long “punishment” from his aunt.
Conor sighed as he looked over the handful of bits and gems he’d brought back from Equestria. Now all they’d be good for was sentimental value, and maybe cashing in for some money at college, if he was even still registered at college anymore. He shook his head.
“What a mess.”
He put the precious gems and gold coins back in their little pouch, and tied it up before returning to his chat room. Since his reappearance on the web, he’d gotten quite the stir from many an old friend. It felt good to be able to have contact with them again, and reassure them that he was okay. In relationships like these, a common love and trust felt important to him, and he was glad that, despite his long absence, his friends were willing to forgive him and move on. The writing and roleplaying proved a welcome release from the stress of the decision he knew he would inevitably have to make soon. If only there were a way to choose both. Sadly, he knew there wasn’t. When he had finished for the time being, he pulled out the sack again and made his way downstairs. He should probably get this over with now. And besides, after all that they’d done for him, they probably deserved it more than he did.
He found them seated in their usual places, his mother atop two extra pillows in an armchair while his father sat on the couch with his feet up on the ottoman. As usual, his sister had sequestered herself in her room to accomplish school work and other important assignments.
“Mom, Dad, you guys still have the mortgage to pay off, right?” Conor asked as he took his seat on one end of the couch. He kept the pouch carefully secured between both hands.
“Where did that question come from?”
“Please, Dad, just a yes or no. Do you or don’t you?”
“Yes, we’re still making payments. What’s this all about, Conor?” Conor’s mother asked as she looked up from her puzzle work on her ipad.
“I want to help you pay it all off here and now. It’s the least I can do after everything I’ve put you through with all this.”
“That’s sweet and all, Conor, but–”
“Mom, with all due respect, please save it, no pun intended.” Conor undid the string around the bundle and emptied it onto the cushion between him and his father. Fifteen thick gold coins and five perfectly formed uncut gems toppled onto the cushion: one emerald, one sapphire, one ruby, one amethyst, and a curiously pale pink stone.
“. . . Where did you get all of this?”
“Equestria is rich with natural resources. This? This is hardly anything over there, enough to take care of some basic shopping and buy a meal at dinner.” He held up a coin. “This is a bit. It’s essentially the equivalent of about five to twenty dollars over there. Over here, I’m sure it’s worth a lot more.”
“Conor, these are worth a small fortune,” Conor’s dad said. “You should invest them in your–”
Conor held up a hand and immediately headed his father off. “My money, my choice. I’ll hold on to anything that’s left after we’ve paid off the house.”
“Conor–”
“I mean it, Dad. There’s enough here to probably pay off a big chunk of the house and still have enough left over for me to save for college. We’ll get them weighed and appraised, and then we can sell them.”
“And if we refuse?”
“I’m not budging this time. Worst case scenario, I’ll withdraw the funds and leave the cash on your pillows or someplace else instead. You’ve been paying for me for so long. Let me help return the favor.”
“And you won’t budge at all?”
“I won’t.”
“Then I guess we’ll have to see who blinks first,” Conor’s dad said with a playful smirk.
“How about we just stick with getting them appraised first?”
“Fair enough.”
“No, Gramma, I will not be bringing back a fifty caliber rifle.” Shawn frowned, though he wouldn’t admit he really wanted to bring one back.
“I swear, one minute you enjoy having the rifle, and when I finally offer one to you, you refuse.” Shawn’s grandma furrowed her wrinkled brow. Her wispy hair was done up in a bun, and, while white, was still full and strong. Her eyes were steel-green, made bigger by the large glasses she wore. She dressed comfortably in a T-shirt with the second amendment on the front, a pair of jeans, and steel toe work boots. Her arms were crossed, and if the signs of grease on her fingers was any indication, she still worked out and worked her trade.
“The most advanced firearm they have is the flintlock pistols I made!”
“And why did you stop there?”
“Because they aren’t ready for anything worse, nor do I even need worse.”
“So, you’re saying they only use melee weapons, lad?” Andre cut in.
“Pretty much. Well, except for a few ranged weapons, such as throwing weapons, crossbows, bows, etcetera.”
“Bet that’s a business that thrives, then,” Andre chuckled.
“Not as much as you would expect, actually,” Shawn replied after a moment of thought. “Well, it used to. Current times, though, are more . . . peaceful.”
“What? They don’t constantly supply their military?”
“They don’t really have a military at the moment. It’s more or less a small guard.”
Andre stared blankly at Shawn for a few moments before letting out a, “Well that’s stupid.”
“Yeah. We’re trying to fix that,” Shawn sighed.
“Well, if you raised their current rulers, and you’re some kinda king or something, why not just make it happen?”
“That’s not how it works. Plus, it isn’t exactly common knowledge.”
“What? You’re king, but you aren’t?”
“You think I want to deal with annoying nobility?”
“. . . That would probably suck.”
“Yeah, and I’d be doing it day in and day out.”
“Yeah, that would cut into your project times.”
His grandmother interjected. “Well, are you at least successful in this new world? Do you enjoy what you do, or is it a job?”
“Well, I’m a smith primarily. I have fun with it, since I can practically do . . . anything I want, really.” Shawn shrugged. “In all honesty, I could retire from this point on, and still have a fortune to give to my children.”
Andre sighed as he stood up from the couch. “All right. I need to get going. I’ve got work in the morning, and I ain’t gettin’ paid if I don’t finish it. I’ll be back tomorrow.”
“See you tomorrow,” Shawn replied with a smile as he realized what time it was. His grandmother was going to spend the next week in town visiting, before heading back home. His other relatives and siblings couldn’t make it out, and had resorted to messages back and forth between his parents using skype or texts.
Ten miles out from New Unity, behind the cover of the Everfree Forest, the night air was silent as the ground began to rustle, stone began to shake, and, before long, the earth itself began to ripple before it burst open as a Changeling pulled itself from the fresh hole. With quick synchronized movements, he worked with his sibling inside the tunnel to widen and reinforce it. Soon other holes appeared in the ground, and the Changelings began to widen them. In a matter of minutes, the holes had been properly broadened and shored up. An ominous rumble sounded from within the caves, followed by a loud buzz. Suddenly, a flurry of activity filled the air as the holes literally erupted with Changeling after Changeling. The cloud separated into squadrons and platoons as drones and praetorians landed in organized rank and file.
This process continued for the next three hours as the troops bulked in large rectangular formations. Then came the real reason for the holes’ expansion. Massive, bulky Changelings with thick chiton and longer fangs buzzed and hissed fiercely as they flew out one after the other and collected in each formation in rows of ten.
Finally the flow ebbed. A scant few hours before dawn, the last of the terrible army emerged. Once again, a dread silence fell over the clearing. All were ordered, all were perfect, all were calm, all were one. Then a loud screech sounded as a chariot pulled by two more of these behemoths emerged from the largest of the tunnels. Chrysalis stared triumphantly, and laughed to herself as her faithful servants pulled her chariot to the front of the army. Her horn and eyes glowed as she sent the order through the hive mind, and as one, they began their march.
“I’m coming for you, Hammer Strike. What a pity for you that so many will have to die.” She laughed malevolently as they passed through the tree line and into the forest proper like a well-oiled machine.
The night was overcast, casting a collective shadow over the Everfree as the torchlight flickered and cast their orbs of light around the castle and Gryphon compound. Silver Spear was making his way to the tower stairs, having just been relieved from his shift on the castle battlements for the night. He hummed to himself as he let his imagination roam, thinking of the warm sheets and the pleasant meal that awaited him after a refreshing sleep. Another night on the job, another set of recruits shaping up for a bright future in the guard.
That pleasant sensation lasted for all of about three seconds, when, quite suddenly, something dropped in front of him off the cold stone wall above the tower door. The figure was the same color as the stones it had been standing on for a moment before it faded to the black and green of Hammer Strike’s Changeling guard. It trembled fearfully. “Pony! You must warn the others. She’s coming! The queen is coming!”
Silver Spear froze. He looked at the Changeling’s wide eyes, the fear it radiated. These troops had not proven their allegiance yet, but at the same time, they feared the Changeling queen more than any other, save perhaps for Hammer Strike himself. If Chrysalis were to find them, she would kill them without a single thought, and they knew it.
Silver Spear lit up his horn and blasted an explosive charge of magic over the top of the castle. “BATTLESTATIONS!” he roared. “WE HAVE INBOUND!” The security bells tolled, and the shriek of the watchers in the Gryphon compound ensured the warriors would be prepared for the battle to come. At least that was some comfort. He looked at the drone as the sound of running hooves and slamming helmets echoed through the halls of the castle, and troops raced to the armory to gear up while the reserves raced along the battlements to man the defenses.
He whipped to the Changeling faster than a person could blink. “You. With me. You can brief me on the way.” They raced down the halls together as Silver Spear made his way to the armory to oversee the mobilization. “Details! What can you tell me?”
The Changeling’s wings buzzed anxiously as it flew as fast as it could. “The four of us sensed a massive hive mind heading towards us. It’s … terrifyingly huge, a swarm even greater than when we first invaded Canterlot. And at its head … one does not forget the mind of Chrysalis easily, even when one has been severed from the hive. Her thirst for vengeance and power are easy to feel. Perhaps she is not aware that we still live. We do not know; however, we can get the impression of the size of their numbers from the size of the hive mind. She must have found a new source of love to consume, because their network is large enough to number in the thousands.”
Silver Spear nodded his head as he ran into Moon Biter. “I need you to get letters to the two Princesses and the Thestrals on leave. And get troops moving here. We need to get an evacuation notice out to Ponyville as well. Start pulling civilians into the citadel and keep, and send a flyer to the Bladefeather compound to assess their preparation and numbers.”
Then he turned to the Changeling. “Get one of your fellow drones to put Me-Me’s hive on alert, then muster at the walls. We have a lot of preparation to do, and not much time to do it in.”
The Changeling’s eyes flashed. “The message is sent. The queen who was not queen shall be alerted.”
“Good. Now get to that wall and rally the troops. Help as many Ponies as you can, and let us know if you sense any change in the hive mind’s activity. Fly, you foal!”
The Changeling buzzed off as quickly as its wings could carry it.
“Faust help us all,” Silver Spear muttered to himself as he made his way to command central. It was time for the council to meet and decide on a united strategy.
102 - This Time, I Want a Hooded Spotted Puppy Coat!
Extended Holiday Ch 102: This Time, I Want a Hooded Spotted Puppy Coat! Act 16
It was early in the morning as Matthew stared at a single black rectangle that sat on a flat desk, in a room that had a bed with boxes on it as items from shelves were packed away. He sat like a cat on the arm of a chair to one side, while Lunar Fang lay out on her belly looking at everything from the main cushion. Ethan sat in the swiveling computer chair midst all the clutter with his fingers at the ready to use the keyboard as they waited for the startup to finish.
The screen popped up, and the background log-in showed a smiling fox with snow on its muzzle while it opened its muzzle in a half grin.
“Okay.” Eric looked at a piece of paper as he typed in some information. Matthew casually looked at the clock and noted the time; it was five AM.
“Why do I need to use this machine again?” Matthew asked.
“Because,” Eric paused. “Well. . . .”
“You are hoping that you can jog my memory on something? Or what? You can use that machine for what you want–.” he stopped suddenly. “Well, I do have my novel I would like to work on. And there was that research I have stored on there.”
“Well, it's a good thing your agent friends bought a box of twenty of those papers then, and a lot of ink. What did you do to get that?”
“I gave them a pouch with six rubies. Seems they were rare cut,” Matthew said as he shrugged.
Lunar Fang flew curiously to one of the boxes and started rooting around inside until her rear hoof disturbed something beneath the covers. She quickly dove under the sheets to investigate, then stopped quite suddenly. “Dear, could you come take a look over here?”
The hum of the printer warming up distracted Matthew for only a moment before he flew to join his wife on the bed. “What seems to be the–?” He gawked at the sight as Lunar Fang pulled the sheets back. She smiled as that look of shock turned to one of recognition, and then widened to a grin as his eyes lit up. “BUNNY!”
Matthew instantly pounced the worn stuffed rabbit. The poor thing never stood a chance as he proceeded to lock it into a cuddle squeeze of death. Its two front paws had been sewn together to give the appearance of a monk with his hands in his habit. “Lunar Fang, you found Bunny. You found my Bunny!” He laughed. “I never thought I would see him again.”
“I thought you might be pleased. It’s been a long time, but I still remember when you told me about him from your childhood days. He helped you through a lot of your surgeries, didn’t he?”
“More than you can begin to imagine.” He continued to snug it as a tear formed at the corner of his eye.
“I take it you’ll be taking him with you?” Matthew turned, surprised to see his mother standing at the door. He nodded quickly, and she sighed. “Well, I’ll get the others to take down the stuffed animals from the nets, then. You should be able to pick which ones you want to bring back with you. After all, they were yours in the first place.”
Eric looked at the list, as he turned to his son. “Come on. I need to know I’m printing the right stuff, Matthew. Get your tail over here.” He chuckled at the joke. Matthew immediately flew back over and hovered next to his father’s shoulder to watch the screen. “Looks good to me. I hope that Grif and the Clouds are doing well in packing my books away.” He looked around the rest of the room. “Well, I don’t think I need to do anything else in here.”
“What about Skype?” Eric asked.
“Just put a message under my name stating that my account is no longer in use, and that I have moved to a location that does not have internet access.”
“You don’t want to talk to your friends?”
“What would I tell them? ‘Hi, I am sorry I haven’t been online, but I got to go to another world, changed species, got married, have a daughter, and, oh, I am building a military from the ground up?’ I would rather not deal with that headache.”
“Oh, uh, your friends Justin and Joel are on their way up today,” Nancy said. “Sorry They wanted to spend some time with you, and after the cat got out of the bag, well. . .” She shrugged.
Matthew sighed. “Not too much. I’ve still got packing to do. Maybe they’ll want to help a little.” He looked around. “Oh, right. The blueprint of the Titanic needs to come with me.” He stopped as he fixated on a small picture frame. Him and Eric smiled from their place in the photo op booth in the Titanic Museum at Branson, MO. “I would like to take that with me as well.”
“I’d hoped you would say that. You’ll be taking other family pictures, too, right?” Nancy smiled with tears in her eyes as she thought of her little boy about to leave again.
“Of course, Mom. Aunt Selma said Uncle Cloud was working on that, and you finished it for him.”
“Well, there's one last picture to take as soon as the morning light hits, and the kids are awake.”
“Which is?” Pensword asked.
“Well, we have some new members in the family now, don’t we? Did you really think we’d let you leave again without adding you two to the photo?” Nancy laughed as she grabbed her son in midair and hugged him close. “At least this time we’ll know where you are. We’re so proud of you, Matthew.”
“Mom.” Matthew blushed from the tips of his ears to the base of his cheeks. Then he chuckled. “Okay, Mom. I can do that, but we need to get Grif in the picture as well. Either that, or Taze. He is our daughter’s godfather, after all.”
“Sure. And maybe the next time you visit, we can get an Equestrian photo as well?” Nancy fished.
“You bet, Mom. But I do have a bit of a question.”
“Yes, dear?”
“Do you think you could maybe let me go now? My wings are getting cramped.”
“Oh. Sorry.” Nancy let Matthew go, and he flapped his wings a few times to work out the kinks, then settled down to the floor.
“I had better get going. With those two coming, that gives me even more to do today.” He chuckled as he scooped Bunny beneath his wing and left the room with Lunar Fang in tow. “Oh, and do you think we could set up a few hay bales at the back of the barn? I need to practice with my bow this morning.”
Nancy and Eric both shook their heads. “Sure, Son. Sure.”
Conor groaned as he rose slowly out of bed. He rubbed his eyes blearily before checking his cell phone, and was shocked to find he’d slept in until noon. Why was he feeling so tired lately? Well, other than staying up until the odd hours of the evening. He had Clover to thank for that one. He smiled sadly as he recalled the mage with fondness. “Wish we’d had more time together,” he muttered to himself as he reached for the pearl that was the heart of his focus.
“Dinner and a date first, bud.”
Conor jolted in his bed, nearly dropping the pearl as he turned violently towards the window. “Geez! Don’t you guys knock?”
Agent Mulder shrugged. “Your parents let me in. I was sent to give you an update on how things are going at the White House and all that jazz.”
“I’m guessing you don’t get along too well with the secret service?”
Mulder winced. “Are you sure you’re not psychic?”
“Deduction. So what, you came here to watch me sleep, and wait till I woke up to tell me about my appointment?”
“Pretty much. If you didn’t wake up in the next half hour, I was going to have to make you get up.”
“So I’m guessing it’s today?”
“Yup.”
“And we’re on a schedule?”
“Yup.”
“And your partner’s waiting downstairs for me to get dressed and eat something, so we can get going?”
“Eeyup.”
Conor chuckled.
“Something funny?”
“You just reminded me of someone I know is all. I’ll be down in about a half hour. Any dress code I should worry about?”
Agent Mulder shrugged. “Just wear what you want. I’m pretty sure they won’t mind.”
“And by they, you mean. . . ?”
“The President and his cabinet.”
“Great. Just great.”
“Yeah, I know. Not the most fun in the world, but hey, look at it this way. You’re one of the four most important people in the world right now.”
“Gee, thanks,” Conor said as he rolled his eyes. “Now do you think you could leave my room? I need to get dressed.”
Agent Mulder chuckled. “Sure thing, kid. I’ll see you downstairs.”
Shawn snapped to attention in his chair, and nearly attacked the desk out of reflex. He looked around for a few moments to reorient himself. That’s right, he was on Earth, and the clock was still counting down. He must have fallen asleep. After taking a moment to realize what happened, he sighed. A faint groan escaped him as he could practically feel his injuries flaring up once again. His reserves definitely weren’t running high, but they weren’t gone just yet, either, so he was stuck somewhere in the middle of feeling a slowly building throb of pain and nearly passing out. It would take a few minutes before he could stand, but he finally did it.
Turning back towards his computer, he closed a few of the modeling programs, and finished typing a few lines, before printing yet another page of projects to work on in Equestria. He made certain to double check the edits he’d made for grammar and punctuation. Naturally, he couldn’t afford to allow any Ponies or other races to translate these blueprints, so he did the one thing he knew would be foolproof; he translated them all to Latin.
He nodded to himself as he closed the blueprints to more modern arcade systems. ‘Note to self. Purchase a laptop and some way to charge it,’ he thought to himself as he closed the designs to a more modern hydro-electric generator. The Equestrian plant was due for an upgrade anyway.
Nothing dangerous at all.
He slowly brought the cursor over the designs to a fifty caliber anti-tank rifle.
“Soon. . . .”
He heard a knock on his door.
“Yeah?” Shawn called out.
The door opened, and Agent Bubbles walked into the room. He noticed nothing out of the ordinary. “So, you having fun with all that tech?”
“Hello, Agent Bubbles. So far, yes. Just got to figure out a room to store it in when I get back.”
“From what I’ve seen of your family, you’ll have a room ready as soon as you get back.” Agent Bubbles chuckled as he pulled off his sunglasses to clean the lenses.
“You don’t even know the half of it.”
“Nor do I want to know. I just wanted to check on how you were doing. I’ve also been instructed to ask you to join your family for breakfast. You might want to get ready. I heard your grandmother making a few idle threats I’m not so sure are idle.” He smiled as he turned around and gently closed the door behind him. As he did so, Shawn noticed the familiar wagging tail of one of the family’s chihuahuas. Somehow, that dog had decided to follow him everywhere he went, since he got home.
“Joey, how in the world did you get in here? I had the door closed!”
Joey just barked in response, and panted happily.
The doorbell rang as the family fought to get everyone out to the backyard. “What? But they shouldn’t be here yet!” Nancy cried in confusion and frustration. She looked out the window and moaned. “What’s she doing here?”
The house was stunned as they looked out the door. “Shouldn’t she be downtown picketing the train station today?” Matthew’s father asked.
“I know you’re in there! I know you want to spend time with this outdated artificial construct called a family. Let me in, or else come out! I want to talk to our future saviors. Change is coming, and we must adapt to make them want to live with us! Come out! Let me see you! Let me talk with you! Let me welcome you!” She pounded on the door again, waving her sign as her long black hair waved frizzily behind her, obscuring the practically blinding flower prints on her dress. A heavy aluminum foil cap had been wrapped around her head like a turban with a pointed cone at its top, giving it the appearance of a typical turban mixed with a dunce cap.
Pensword’s left ear twitched multiple times. The doorknob jiggled and the woman pounded on the door and rang the bell again. “Meet her on the front yard,” he said.
“Are you sure?” Nancy asked.
“Grif, Lunar Fang, and I will have fun, and we cannot hide away forever. The whole world will know about us sooner or later.” He chuckled. “Unless she’s gotten worse, we should be able to get her logic looped into a tangled mess, and then she’ll leave us alone. An hour now is better then her hounding us for the rest of our stay, and risking her ripping books out of my carts because they could ‘destroy our utopia.’”
“I take it you’ve had to deal with this crazy lady before?” Grif asked with a raised eyebrow.
“So many times,” Matthew responded. “And now you get to meet the town crazy, too.” He smirked. “She’s usually at the train station deriding the use of coal, and fuming about how trains are a sign of us killing Mother Earth with our technology.”
“Oh, this should be fun.” Grif smiled maliciously.
“Yeah, well, just a warning. She’s in her own little world,” Selma shot back. “Be careful with her.”
The woman was even more disheveled than they first thought as Grif, Matthew, and Lunar Fang approached. Her eyes were bloodshot from lack of sleep, and her hastily scrawled sign had been glued over with fresh paper to cover the original slogan, before a hastily scrawled Welcome to Earth! had been painstakingly drawn. She had to be somewhere in her late forties, and was busy trying to pick the lock to the large flagpole that stood a ways out from the house, so she could lower the American flag to do nobody knew what, though they could make a few guesses.
Matthew sighed and shook his head. “What did we tell you about touching our property?”
“Well what did you expect? There’s no equal representation here. If America is supposed to be a land of equality, then they should be flying colors for the Native Americans and the Mexicans, too. They’re key players in our economy, and they deserve representation, especially since these people stole this–.”
Pensword snapped a wing out and that caused her to stare wide-eyed.
“Please.” She knelt down and clasped her hands together to stare at the Ponies and Gryphon. “You’ve got to help right the wrongs of this land. Teach us the ways of clean energy and flight, so we can save the Earth from our own childish, selfish wants.” She cried as she prostrated herself on the ground, and proceeded to grovel before them. “Why do you live in the home of such un-enlight–” She paused, and her eyes widened with the light of a sudden understanding. “You must think you can save them from their follies,” she whispered, almost reverently. “That will be difficult, I can tell you that now. I’ve been trying for decades, and they just won’t listen. They celebrate war machines, they play hero and support actions that will only lead to us wiping out all life before the great stars will return to uplift us to the next plane of existence.”
Pensword turned to Lunar Fang and muttered sadly in Equish, “She’s worse than when I left.”
The woman’s tirade and ravings were cut short as the loud roar of a lion ripped through the area. The blood-chilling sound had such stopping power that several people began running. The kids just cheered from the backyard. Grif snarled at the woman with contempt as he stalked towards her. “You are the worst type of person,” he growled. “The worst type of coward. You have so little spine that the only thing you can think to do is try and force your infantile beliefs onto others,” he said. “It’s people like you that make tyrants,” he half purred, half growled, in her face.
Much to his surprise, she looked up from her groveling with a pale face and a smile. “I know that I’m a coward, that I’m not the best, and yet those who came before you blessed me to be their mouthpiece. I am only here as a herald. What do you wish for me to do? Should I disobey those who have spoken to me from beyond the stars? You have taken the image of old legends to show how far we have fallen from the simple times of Greece and Turkey.” She bowed again. “I am only here to help spread your word, and work to bring the world back to your time, so you can shape us anew, reverse the harm we have done without your guidance.”
“Listen closely,” he said. “If you cannot set yourself to be the example, then you are not worthy to speak. It is not the place of any one to force their position on others. They must come to it of their own free will.” He was careful to think his words through. “We do not wish for slaves, for there is no purpose in our advice, if not taken willingly, and of their own accord. This show, the protest, the verbal attacks on your neighbors,” he said as he waved his hand to the flagpole. “You attack what they hold sacred. Your actions disgrace and diminish what you are taught. Let how you live be the example. Otherwise, all your memory will be to them is that of a crazy person, a menace. We are a gentle hand, not a forceful one.”
The woman blinked in surprise and confusion at the words. “I–.” She didn’t know what to think. “But so much has changed, since the time you helped us. We need your guidence. I need your guidance. Without it, we will fall. We’ll remain in the filth we have created, and we will die in it with this world.” Tears of sorrow coursed down her cheeks, washing at the dirt smudges that had formed there from when she placed her face in the dirt.
Matthew felt something twitch inside him. “Maybe, but then again, maybe not. You say we know more than humans. But if that is the case, then why do you question why we do what we do? Consider this. Perhaps this is a time of trial. We wish to see how humanity does without our guidance, to see if they are ready to stand on their own.” He smiled kindly at her. “Do you bake, human?”
She paused at the very strange question. “No. I buy my food premade from the farmer’s market. I don’t trust the food not to have bad stuff the government puts in it, but I know the concept.”
“Do you fiddle with a pie when you put it into the oven and close the door? I don’t. I watch it carefully through the glass to see how it does. Once you put the pie into the oven, you have to wait patiently. Open the oven, and all the heat rushes out before the pie is done, and you spoil the dessert.”
Her eyes blinked owlishly. “Are you saying Earth is a pie? That we’re all being cooked?” Her eyes began to roll as her voice trembled in panic.
Grif immediately stepped in to head off the belligerent mass hysteria that was coming. “My friend chose poor wording. Tell me, do you garden?” Grif asked.
“I do. I water my plants every day. I talk to them about how they will protect me from all the harms of the world around me. I also take care of cats, and birds, but I love to sing to the garden and my plants.”
“My dear, when you place a seed in a planter, once you’ve added the water and the fertilizer, you make sure it has sun, and then tell me, what is the last ingredient to make the flowers bloom?”
“Love,” she responded. “Sometimes it takes me a lot of love before it shows up from the ground.”
Grif shook his head with a kindly smile. “Time. Love is important, make no mistake, but time turns the seed into a sprout, and the sprout into a shoot, and the shoot into a bud, and the bud into a bloom.”
“Yes, but a garden also needs to be weeded, tended, protected. When will you weed, so we don’t lose the blooms and flowers?” she asked. “I hate weeds. Such ugly plants. They make me sick.”
“When you weed, you must always be careful not to let the trauma damage the bloom. The handle must be deft and gentle, calculated, and loving. The reason you have not seen us weed is simply because it would stop the purpose of our actions if you did.”
She paused before looking terrified. “Am I to be weeded ,then? Is that why you’re showing yourselves to me?”
“No, no,” Matthew quickly interjected. “We will not weed you out of Earth. However. . . .” He hated to say this, but it felt right. “We had to weed around you, so you could grow and prosper, to teach you a few new things. That is why you can see us this time.”
“But you must trust us,” Grif continued. “We are acting as is needed, and our eye is never far from you, but nothing is accomplished like this. To act this way only breeds negativity.”
“Then how do I act?” she asked.
“Listen and learn from this family, from the town. Show that you are willing to learn how to act. It will take time, but it should work. If you find yourself in need of guidance, look to the writings of Mahatma Gandhi. He was also one of the blessed, and he understood many mysteries well.”
“I would also suggest one Martin Luther King. He taught how to also treat others with respect while initiating the change that the race of man needed at the time,” Matthew said.
She nodded her head as she slowly got up from the ground with trembling limbs and wide, glassy eyes. “I . . . I think I’m going to go home and pet my cats now. Th-thank you.” She turned around and slowly walked away.
Matthew waited till she was gone. “Do you know how long the town has been trying to help her? Why is it that in one afternoon, you and I got further help for her than the last decade combined?”
“Because the townspeople never tried changing themselves into mythical beasts?” Grif chuckled.
“Let’s try to keep it that way,” Matthew answered.
“Agreed,” Grif said. Then he chuckled as Lunar Fang grabbed her husband in her arms, swept him off his hooves, and kissed him heavily on the lips.
When the couple finally came up for air again, Lunar Fang smiled. “That was for all the contractions you used during that little exchange. I’ll share the rest of my gratitude with you later,” she said with a mischievous wink.
Matthew blushed violently as Grif broke into a full bout of laughter midst the catcalls from the back yard and the front door.
The cool whir of the AC units and fans swirling in the halls of the White House only added to Conor’s nerves as he followed with his escort past the tour groups, paintings, busts, and other historical artifacts on display. He thought back to the last time he’d visited DC as a child. He’d never been able to see the White House then, though he did get the chance to see the many other monuments and historical buildings that dotted the landscape. Now he was inside the very heart of the nation, about to meet who was essentially the most important and powerful man in the world. A wall of secret service men had formed up around them to guard against any viewers who might try to peek at the guests as they all passed through the final guard, and into the oval office.
The US insignia carpet was massive, and Conor couldn’t help but feel as if the creature portrayed were about to engulf him in its wings as his heart raced within his chest. The American flag sat on the side by the window, just as it had in all the movies he’d seen on TV over the years. Bookshelves lined with aged books gave a more aesthetic appeal to the location, and lent the impression of deep historical thought. Finally, his eyes rested on the source of his anxiety. The high-backed leather swivel chair turned to reveal President Douglass, the United States’ first African American President.
“Welcome to the White House, Mister Vulpes.” The President spoke kindly, with a voice that sounded deceptively like that of a younger Morgan Freeman. “Please, take a seat.” He motioned to two white couches that had been prepared.
Conor and his family each took their seats to stare at the man who had summoned them.
“So, uh, you wanted to see me?” Conor asked.
President Douglass nodded as an aide handed a bound leather folder to Conor.
“That’s right. I’ll just cut straight to the point. It’ll save us a lot of time in the long run, and I can tell you’re nervous enough as it is. Inside that folder, you’ll find that you now have the same privileges, duties, and security clearance as any diplomat in the United States. I know you’re already a Citizen of the United States, but based on the information we’ve gathered from certain documents delivered to me by Director Jon, it would prove risky to have any,” he cleared his throat, “equines fill that office. That puts you in a rather unique position, seeing as, from the intel we’ve received from your friends, you have the ability to maintain your human form in both worlds, while any others we send would slowly change to become, for all intents and purposes, a denizen of that world.
“Your real purpose, should you choose to accept, is to actually head up a team of men and women hand-picked by you and us to create an Equestrian response team, so when official channels are opened, we can transition smoothly into foreign relations. Essentially, I’m offering you a handsomely paid position in the United States Government, and possibly the World Government, with all the benefits your position would require. You’ll be able to retire at the end of your service with the thanks of your government, as well as the President, and the option to retire in whichever community you choose between the two worlds, assuming that we have a working means of travel by that point. You and your friends are our bridge to first contact with another sentient race, another world, and while we have plans for such contingencies, I cannot strain the importance of your position enough. Your country needs you, Mister Vulpes. Will you answer its call?”
“So let me get this straight. You’re telling me that you want me to become an official diplomat between Equestria and America, and that you want me to decide who will join my staff, and how, and that you want me to essentially report to you on a regular basis as events progress between our two peoples?”
President Douglass nodded his head. “That is correct. After the summit, you’ll have a team who will be reporting to their respective governments as well. You’ll start in DC; however, I must warn you. Based on how things progress, you might be moving either to New York City or Brussels to be closer to the UN.” He looked to Conor’s parents and then to Conor. “I highly recommend picking New York, myself. It would allow weekend visits to your family, and based on your background check, I understand family is a rather big pillar in your life.”
“I’m going to have someone to help me learn the ropes, right? And translators for the other nations?”
The President nodded his head. “Yes, you’ll have translators, and you’ll receive some basic training; however, you’ll be expected to run most things yourself. Shifts, meetings, and the like. You can run it like what you’ve seen in Equestria; like your work, assuming you’ve had work; or take suggestions from some of your fellow diplomats here at the White House. No matter which policies you choose, you will have final say for your department.”
“You do realize I’m not the administrative type, right?”
“Then delegate,” President Douglass countered.
“And you know negotiations and the like won’t be the same as they are with most other nations here on Earth. The cultures there vary significantly, and are focused around the ideals of love, tolerance, and friendship.”
“I do,” the president replied, “which is why you will be training and teaching those around you on how to act around those from the principality of Equestria, as well as drafting the handbook for future meetings. According to your friends, there are Gryphons, Kitsune,” he looked down at another piece of paper from the folder on the table. “Minotaurs, Breezies.” he looked up and smiled. “One of the scrolls had a list of all species that could talk and communicate, and we feel confident with moving forward. Would you care to eat lunch with the first lady and me? Your parents will be joining us as well.”
“No strings attached?”
President Douglass laughed at the comment. “No strings attached. Just lunch. No photographers, no press, and no aides or secretaries asking questions. Just the six of us, the secret service, and plenty of questions about your experiences in Equestria.”
“Well . . . I suppose it couldn’t hurt.” Conor smiled, even as he watched his family’s mortified expressions.
“Oh, we’re going to get along just fine, Mister Vulpes,” President Douglass laughed. “Just fine.”
Shawn had to spend the morning going over what he had done the previous day to both family and agents. Thankfully, it wasn’t a long conversation, but it certainly did involve more questions, one of the key ones being the answer to why two firefighters were freaking out over the fact he may or may not have vanished right in front of them. He couldn’t help but chuckle at their reactions. After all, he simply merged into the shadows and transferred his mass to another location through said means.
While his family had purchased more organic products at his request, he could still faintly taste the effects of the environment. Though it would take time for him to admit it, he did miss steak, and hamburger, but he could live without it. It didn’t mean he had to enjoy it, but they had good meals on Equestria to make up for it.
A knock on the door disturbed his thoughts as he automatically stood up and made his way to answer. Upon opening it, he was greeted by a taller, thin man with short messy hair. His green eyes were open in shock as he looked over Shawn. He wore a brown jacket with blue pants and a pair of sneakers.
The next thing Shawn knew, he had a pair of arms wrapped around him.
“It’s really you! I saw some recordings on youtube, and I saw you on Skype, but. . .” He let go as he stood back. “God, what happened to you? Where have you been?”
Shawn gasped as he finally realized who was standing in front of him. “Andrew? I . . . It’s a bit hard to explain.”
“You know what? It doesn’t matter. You’re back!” He grinned. “You can tell me about it all later. I’m just surprised you’re actually alive. Everyone was told you vanished. They said you were probably dead.”
“It hasn’t been easy, but I’m still alive. I’m . . . sorry to say, though, that I’ll be gone by tonight once again.”
“What?” Andrew shouted in alarm. “Why?”
“Because if I don’t, I’ll be dead. Potentially by tomorrow.”
Matthew sat in the white screened gazebo as he watched the two men walking up to it. The human on the left was tall, over six foot five inches, and the other stood at six feet exactly. Both of them, while taller than Pensword when he was a human, were now giants in his eyes. He eyed the one on the left, the six foot one. This was Joel, otherwise known to him as Riku. He looked to Lunar Fang, who watched with intrigue as she analyzed the two humans.
“So the smaller one is the Discord of this world?” she asked in Equish.
“Yes,” Matthew said. “Please note that whatever he does, you should not retaliate. I have a feeling he is going to do something that is going to cause problems, if we don’t let it go.”
He smiled as Lunar Fang kissed him yet again. “I’ll see what I can do,” she said impishly.
“That is the best I can ask of you,” he said as the pair entered the gazebo.
“So,” Justin spoke with a grin. “It seems you beat us to the punch. Congrats man.”
Matthew raised an eyebrow as he realized what he was referring to. “I am a father as well. I’ll have to leave to return to her tonight.” He lay down on the cushions on the lounge chair. “It’s good to see you both, though. How’s life down the mountain?”
“Well,” Riku answered loudly, “I’m moving up here to work security for the railroad, and Sammy is coming up to work, too. I think in the bakery.”
Matthew pulled his ears back flat against his head, and winced. “That is good.” He raised an eyebrow as Riku stepped forward with a devious grin on his beard-clad face, looking very much like either part Wolverine or wolfman. Wolverine was the more likely candidate, if the shirt of the classic X-Man cartoon Riku wore was any indication.
“Do you remember what I said would happen if a pony showed up?”
Matthew’s eyes widened. “No. You wouldn’t. You wouldn’t!” He didn’t get a chance to object any further before he was promptly slugged in the nose. “You did,” he muttered flatly as he rubbed his nose. Fortunately, combat training had hardened him against such blows.
“Yep. Just be glad Sammy isn’t here. She would scream and hug you, then comb your mane, and tie it in bows and ribbons,” Riku replied as he widened his smile into a manic grin, followed by a series of giggles.
Lunar Fang jumped to her hooves, and glared at Riku as she crouched.
Matthew immediately moved a wing to block her. “Let him be.”
“Yep. I’m a free soul. You can’t touch me, and you sure as hell can’t force me to watch that show . . . though I will admit Discord is pretty awesome. I mean, come on, he’s voiced by John Delancey!” Yet again, Riku had shouted. It would seem he only had one sound setting. “And come on! Who wouldn’t love making it rain chocolate milk, or oh, oh, a giant pudding the size of your house! Better yet, make it the size of the capitol building! That would me amazing.”
“Don’t forget the whipped cream the size of the white house,” Justin added.
Matthew slapped his wing to his muzzle. “Don’t egg him on. I also do not want. . . .” He sighed, and let it go. “Okay, so, you wanted to see me?”
“Well, yeah. Why else do you think we’d crash your family reunion?” Riku said as he pulled off his backpack. “I got you all the Harry Potter books to take back, and the Wheel of Time. Those books are awesome.”
“I agree,” Justin responded with a grin. “I also dropped off some things to your mom to take back, Stardust,” he said playfully.
“Argh!” Riku cried out, which prompted Justin to join. They both looked at Matthew as he realized he had to say it with them.
“Uh . . . Argh?” Matthew offered weakly. Lunar Fang soon followed, just as uncertainly.
“Oh, and we can go driving tonight, and you can tell us all about–” Riku made a gagging gesture “–Equestria.”
Matthew promptly facehoofed and groaned. “It’s not like the show, Riku. The ponies there are actually real people. The show hardly does our world justice.”
“I figured as much,” Justin said, immediately cutting Riku off. “But don’t you have to go back tonight?”
Matthew sighed. “Yes, but next time I visit, we’ll drive around the valley and visit the ghost mines and towns.”
“Awesome!” Riku fistpumped as he jumped into the air. “With folks like you around, maybe we’ll actually get to see some real ghosts.”
“Right,” Matthew muttered, already regretting saying that. Riku didn’t realize just how right he was, and he wasn’t about to tell him.
“If I may interject,” Lunar Fang spoke.
“Sure.” Riku waved his hand as he grinned. “But after that, I need to eat. Seriously, I’m so hungry I could eat a horse.”
“Riku!” Matthew shouted in shock. “Remember who you are sitting with.”
“What?” he asked as he looked at them. “Oh, sorry. I’ll try not to say something like that. If we don’t eat, I’m going to eat you, Justin.”
“But I taste bad,” Justin fake whined.
“Don’t care. Nom!” Riku shouted as he snapped his teeth at Justin.
“Okay,” Lunar Fang cried out as she threw something at Riku. “Eat that. Just calm down. I don’t want to see you eating your friend.”
“He’s joking,” Matthew whispered in her ear.
Riku looked curiously at the disc as he turned it many different ways. Matthew nearly stopped him, but Riku was too fast for him, and immediately chomped down on the item in question. After chewing and swallowing, he grinned.
“Okay, you. Justin, was it?” Lunar Fang asked.
“That’s me,” Justin replied with a wave of his hand.
“Why did you let Riku punch my husband in the nose?”
“Because that was what Riku said he’d do, if he ever met a real character from My Little Pony, since they act like marshmallows when they get hit. Well, they were supposed to, anyways. I guess it didn’t for Matthew.”
“Right. . . .” Lunar Fang droned out. She eeped in surprise as Riku suddenly jumped in front of her face out of nowhere. “Do you have another one? That was good. Or maybe your medallion is made of chocolate.”
“It’s not,” Lunar Fang responded.
“Don’t care. Poof!” he cried out as he waved a hand in front of it. “Now it is.”
“MAGIC SHIELD!” Matthew roared, before blinking in surprise. “Why did I do that?”
“Because magic shield blocks everything,” Justin responded. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll be right back.” He got up and left.
Matthew felt worried being left alone in the gazebo with Riku and Lunar Fang. “Uh, if you’re still hungry, you can try going into the kitchen. They might have cookies or cake done.”
“CAKE!” Riku cried out as he jumped up, and raced out of the gazebo after Justin.
Matthew watched them go. “I never want Discord meeting Riku.”
“I concur,” Lunar Fang said resolutely. “Though they sure seem excited to have you back.”
“Yeah.” He frowned. “I wish they had asked more questions. I think they would have enjoyed the fact I was in the military, or that I beat up monsters, and that I am living in the Everfree forest.”
“Maybe later tonight they will?” Lunar Fang offered consolingly. “You do still have the rest of the day to spend with them, after all.”
“Yeah. Maybe.” Matthew sighed heavily as Lunar Fang snuggled next to him and laid a wing on his back. The two laid there together as they watched the fields and forest surrounding the property and shared their feelings. For now, spending time together was what they both needed.
“Wait a minute, you say Equestria is how rich?” President Douglass asked from his seat at the table. A literal smorgasbord of Chinese food had been set before the leader and his guests as they dined, and the atmosphere had changed to the point where it was almost like a family night around the dinner table back home.
“They literally use priceless gems and gold coins as a currency. If you wanted to weigh their bit to our dollar, they’d probably have over a hundred dollars in one coin, and several hundreds, if not thousands or millions in precious gems,” Conor said pointedly as he took another bite of sweet and sour chicken. “They could literally pay for our national debt with a sack full of gems. Heck, they could probably pay for the whole world’s debt, if they were feeling generous enough.” He took another bite, and chewed slowly. “Huh. You know, it’s funny. This is probably the best stuff I’ve had to eat since I got back home.”
“Conor!” Mister Vulpes chided.
“I don’t mean to insult Mom’s cooking, Dad. You, of all people know how much I enjoy it. Things have just . . . I don’t know. They’ve been off since I got back. The flavors are just, well, sort of dull. It’s like I’m not really eating food at all. The texture is there, but everything is, well, it’s bitter, I guess, or something like that. It’s hard for me to explain.”
“Perhaps it has something to do with your time in Equestria?” President Douglass ventured.
Conor sighed. “Probably. I started changing species at one point while I was over there. I suppose it’s possible it messed with my taste buds. Either that, or their techniques just produce better food than ours do.”
“How so?”
“Well, for one, they’re literally tuned to the earth. They can cause a plant to sprout and grow into a healthy sapling before your very eyes. They direct the weather to ensure perfect conditions and growth for the crops. And to top it all off, they provide magical protection to keep pests and other unwanted creatures from raiding their crops. Well, some of them do anyways. Their buffer crops put ours to shame.”
“Sounds like we’ll need to get some samples to perform some tests,” the President mused.
“I doubt you’ll find much difference, except maybe there’s more nutrients in the soil. The ponies don’t generally infringe too much on nature. You don’t usually see asphalt and the like. Maybe cobblestones, but not much else, except for the really big cities like Manehattan. The rest is usually dusty roads and plantlife.”
“And a boatload of dangerous magical creatures?”
Conor quickly swallowed his chow mein before resuming the narrative. “Those usually stick to Everfree forest. It’s basically a land where pony magic doesn’t work the same way. Everything is natural there. The clouds move on their own, the weather operates how it sees fit, and, most of the time, the creatures act the same way animals in our world do. The bigger ones eat the smaller ones.” He shrugged. “We don’t generally get bothered by them, since Shawn is basically the most intimidating creature in all of Equestria. Well, his pony counterpart is anyways.”
“This . . . Hammer Strike? Is that right?” Mrs. Douglass asked. Her shoulder-length black hair cascaded down in shining ripples, and with her suit coat and skirt, she looked the spitting image of Mrs. Cosby on the Bill Cosby Show.
Conor nodded. “That’s the name. Pretty much any major events to happen in Equestria, he’s been part of them, or will be as the case may be.”
“And how does he do that?” President Douglass asked, intrigued as he dunked his egg roll into some sweet and sour sauce and took a bite.
Conor shrugged. “It varies. The first time, it was the result of dark magic. It was supposed to send them back to the dawn of time, apparently, but somehow the spell went wrong, and it flung them back into the Crystal Empire, instead, at a key pivotal point in its history. And so the story goes. A little bit of this, a little bit of that, a little bit of alien tech, a little help from The Doctor and his TARDIS–”
The narrative was interrupted as President Douglas, Mrs. Douglas, and Mr. and Mrs. Vulpes all either spat their drinks out in shock, spewed their drinks out their nostrils, or proceeded to swallow down the wrong pipe and enter into a coughing fit.
“What? Your researchers didn’t pick up on all the fan fiction circling around Doctor Whooves? Come on. If your department is designed to look into the sheer number of psychic interference incidents with the warp and weave between the worlds, you would think they’d guess that the sheer number of plotlines invented for that character would imply that he’s a real being in Equestria, just as much as the Mane Six are.”
It took a few minutes for the president to regain his composure. “First of all, until you four came back, we had no idea that world even existed, let alone its makeup. Secondly, that popularity was attributed namely to the hype that exists for the actual Doctor Who television series. Thirdly, you’re telling me that in that world, The Doctor is real?”
“Quite,” Conor said as he calmly bit into another egg roll. “I’ve ridden in his TARDIS myself a couple of times.”
“Clearly, we have a lot more to discuss than I first thought.”
“On the plus side, we’ll have plenty of time to do just that in the coming week.”
After converting some bits and gems into dollars, Shawn was happy to spend the day picking up a few things to keep hidden away for his own use and projects in Equestria. After all, you wouldn’t want everyone to find a computing device more than twenty times better than the most advanced device on the planet just sitting around on a desk.
He smiled as he placed the laptop into his cart. He would likely end up with a fairly substantial stack by the end of this, or perhaps a reasonable stack. He’d have to consider getting a swivel chair, too. It was so hard to find a good one back in Equestria, and there were so many good materials here that just weren’t available on Equis, well, not without certain moral condemnations anyways. He shook his head as he moved past the gaming section. It was a little early to bring any of those to Equestria. He’d figure something out another time. Maybe he’d bring them later, after helping bring Equestria up to speed on gaming modules.
About an hour or two later, a laptop, a few of those small solar panel battery chargers, wires, a few additional cables, and said swivel chair were neatly packed into the cart. Shawn didn’t need too many additional items, but he would have to go to a hardware store to pick up some things for electrical circuits and other electrical situations. He may have printed out how to make a majority of the things he needed, but some things, he would prefer just buying, as it was a lot less complicated. Equestria was still only just starting into the field of electronics, after all. If he could help them design or reverse engineer better methods of transmitting and using that power, it was possible to give their technological development a little bit more of a kickstart without disturbing the natural balance. The cashier was more than a little surprised when he produced all the funds he needed in cash.
Next on his list were some tools to make woodworking and smithing easier. While he could do these things already, the right tools would make things so much faster. He frowned as he realised this may cause him to become slightly lazy if he went too far.
He paused when he noticed someone almost familiar to him at the main entrance. “I know you from somewhere.”
Military Police Officer Barrett looked directly at Shawn for a moment. Then his eyes locked on Shawn’s coat. His reaction was near instantaneous. His eyes widened so fast, it looked like they’d pop right out of his head, before the man let out a panicked yell. He then proceeded to do a one-eighty, and run for it, heedless to the risk to his safety as he raced past a car coming into the parking lot, and narrowly missed being hit.
“. . . Okay?” Shawn muttered aloud as he cocked a confused eyebrow.
Grif chuckled as he went over the packages he’d ordered, checking the list he’d made on his phone. There were a few cases of some rarer books and DVDs he’d managed to track down online, but the more common items were replicas and items based on videogames and anime: things like a replica pip boy with a cell phone holder inside it, a life-sized paladin handgun from the Mass Effect series, and several fantasy daggers and swords he’d not been able to afford previously. He mentally checked off each item as he placed it in his pack. As he finished stuffing away the rare replicas of Zar’roc and Brisingr into his bag, he checked the time. It was almost to the point where Matthew had wanted him to show off some of his archery skills.
It took Grif several minutes to find his proper bow and quiver, hidden deep within the bag amongst a mound of necessary items. He took the remaining time to clean the bow, wax the string, and check the fletchings on the arrows. When he was satisfied, he headed towards the rear of the property with a confident smirk. This was going to be fun.
A roped-off area had been set up far into the back, near the end of a field. A series of five hay bales formed the targets he would be using. The familiar scent of relatively fresh mountain air, wild grass, and many wild animals wafted into his nostrils, making him feel all the better. Two humans he had not meet were watching on the edge. The shorter of the two was talking to one of the teens, most likely lecturing over the rules of the range, and possibly how to avoid offending Gryphons. A line of sifted hay marked where they would be shooting from. Two teens from the Cloud clan were already standing at the ready with their bows. Matthew held the modified Gryphon bow, and was busy working on adjusting a few of the mechanisms. At least he was having a better time with it than before.
Finally, Grif focused on the taller of the two figures. The man stared at him as he tugged on the shorter man’s sleeve, then raced towards him. Apparently, this wasn’t one of the usual members of the cloud clan. Maybe a friend from the city?
“Gryphon. That’s . . . that’s a real life Gryphon. This is so awesome! Way cooler than the Ponies!”
“And yet ponies sent the Gryphons packing in three full scale wars,” Grif said, rolling his eyes.
“Don’t care. You’re cooler looking.” He immediately proceeded to gush. “Oh man. Do you really eat live prey? Can you fly? I wish I could fly. You get to see everything from the air. Oh, man!” He grinned madly. “And the wingspan! Look at those paws and claws! And you can talk!” He put his hand out. “Riku. It’s an honor to meet you.” He looked around. “By the way, did you know that you show up in a cartoon? Well, many cartoons and mythology in our world actually.” He moved a hand. “Pow. Like the power of the gods are great, and I bet you can face them and win.”
“Looks aren't everything.” Grif sighed. “And believe me, Gryphons can’t take down gods.”
“You can if I say you can,” the energetic human responded.
“Oi! Riku, can you let my friend get to showing off his skills?” Matthew shouted.
“Wait, you can shoot weapons? What about beak and claws?” Riku gasped in shock, which, naturally, everyone could hear.
“As great as talons are, they don’t tend to have the range of a spear or a bow,” Grif said. “Ranged weapons are ranged weapons. Just because we can hurt by our own biological ones doesn’t mean we can’t use other weapons and skills as well.”
“Okay.” Despite the gravity of the statements the two had made, it seemed Riku’s manic optimism could not be repressed. He continued to grin stubbornly. “I want to see what happens, but if you lose to my Pony friend, you have to take me up in the sky.”
“And if I lose?” Matthew shouted.
“Then. . . .” he hummmed. “Then you’ll have to be human again,” Riku answered.
“I can’t!” Matthew facehoofed. “I told you before, Riku. If I try turning back into a human, I will die.”
“Oh, yeah. I forgot.” Riku wilted. “Then, uh, you get to let me use your bow?”
Grif offered it to him with a somewhat amused look on his face. “There’s no need to gamble with me to hold it. I’ll let you. Just treat it with respect.”
“Sweet.” He raised it up to the proper position and pulled against the string, then paused. He growled as struggled to get the weapon to cock. The resistance was incredible. Much to Grif’s surprise, the stubborn human did actually manage to he this time used all of his strength and moved it by Grif’s eye, a half centimeter.
“Not so easy, is it?” Grif asked, holding his talons out.
“I guess I’ll use the Pony bow then,” he said in a sulking tone. Then he laughed.
“After Grif and I have our fun!” Matthew insisted.
“Yeah. Let us see how we stack up to the war heroes!” The Cloud Clan at the line yelled.
“You fought in a war?” Riku gaped. “You don’t look like you did.” He noticed Grif was looking at his hands. “Oh. You want this back,” he said somewhat sheepishly, before he turned his head. Once the bow was back in Grif’s possession, he hastily returned to the taller human, who Matthew identified as Justin. One thing Grif noticed was that the tallest Cloud member was, at most, five foot seven.
Grif shot the Pegasus a wink as he held the bow up, and drew it experimentally to his head. “Huh. It’s a bit slack. I’ll have to tighten the string later.”
Riku acted like he didn’t hear it, and, in fact, may not have, since he was busy talking about Star Wars with some of the other children, and how he would be a master of the Grey Force, a combination of the light and dark sides.
“Okay, you go first, Grif,” Matthew spoke as he did his best to tone out Riku’s exceptionally loud voice.
In a fluid motion, Grif drew an arrow and pulled it back on the bow string as he scanned the horizon. A cluster of targets stood on the first bale at seventy meters, and another set was a hundred meters back. “Three shots bullseye on the left and rightmost target, inner ring on the hundred meter,” Grif called. With a practiced ease, he fired, drew, fired again, and drew and fired a third time. Thunk! Thunk! Thunk! As if they’d heard him speak the command, the three arrows found their targets.
Matthew grinned. “Showoff.” He picked up the modified Gryphon bow. “Three bullseyes. Seventy meters.” He flapped his wings and rose up into the air. Many of the family members were filming off to the side, and more than a few of the kids gaped or grinned as they saw Matthew hovering in the air. He allowed himself a brief smile, then tuned them out to focus on his shots. He took a deep breath, exhaled, then let the arrows fly one after the other with skilled hooves. Three arrows clustered around the other edge of the red dot. It may not have been a perfect bullseye, but it was still better than he had performed previously with the bow. He looked down at it with surprise. “Well, thank you,” he said as he stroked its grip.
“Let’s see how you like the hundred meter targets. Three arrows.” Grif launched his three arrows and the same triple thunk sounded as they sank home. One of the arrows dug itself into the outer ring of the target. The other two dug into the central outer ring.
“You feeling okay?” Grif asked. “Usually, you’d make that shot pretty easily.”
“Earth,” Matthew groaned, huffing as he slowly descended to the ground to catch his breath. Grif realized that he must have been tapping into either the thaumic field or the magic of his form. “I . . . think it is good we are leaving today.” Matthew looked at the bow as he gently put it on the hay bale in front of him. “However, I do believe she’s finally accepted me.”
“That's good to hear.” Grif nodded, making a draw. “Hundred meters to split my last arrow,” he said, even as he took the shot. True to his word, the arrow proceeded to split his previous arrow right down the middle.
“Show off!”
“Robin Hood!” the two Cloud twins cried out at the same time with laughter. Their targets were also peppered with arrows.
Matthew smirked. “Split arrow, seventy meters.” He reclaimed his bow and made the shot. Two arrows hit the bullseye, but the third split one of his arrows. “Yeah. I wish you could see us practice at home, he said with a sigh as he turned to face his friends and cousins.
“Dude, you’ve gotta teach me to do that!” Riku cried out from the sideline. “I thought that was just an old wive’s tail. No one could split an arrow, but you all just did!”
Matthew smiled. “Well, I think I am going to take a breather,” he said as his breathing grew heavy again. “Why don’t you see if you can draw back my bow string.
“Sure. If you can pull it back, then I should be able to do it no problem,” Riku said as he waved a hand negligently in a sweeping gesture. “No offense, Matthew, but I am stronger.”
“When I was human, true. But I am not human anymore,” Matthew responded with a devious smile.
Riku picked up the bow, nocked an arrow, and drew the string back, or at least he tried to. With a notable strain and trembling arms, he finally managed to get the string back a full seven centimeters, before it slipped from his hand and returned to its resting position with a twang. The arrow dropped harmlessly to the ground, having hardly been propelled.
Riku looked at the bow, then Matthew, and then at Grif. “Dude. You have got to take me with you. Seriously, you have to. I’ve reached my peak here, but there. I mean, just look at what happened to you two! I can be even stronger!”
Matthew slapped a wing to his muzzle, which seemed to be something of a constant now. “No, I am not going to do that, and neither is Grif. You would never be human again. You like your hands and fingers, right?”
“Right,” Riku muttered. “But I could be like Discord, maybe?” he asked, missing the panicked look on Matthew and Lunar Fang’s faces.
“I would rather not. No. Just . . . let’s just keep you here on Earth, okay, Riku?”
Riku nodded his head before he grinned. “Gryphon tackle!” Grif had literally stepped out of the designated firing line for only a moment. That moment was enough, though. A ton of children suddenly swarmed him as they tried to join Riku on his back.
Grif chuckled as he withdrew one of his few remaining bits. It had been polished to a near mirror shine. He flicked it into the air ahead of him.
Riku looked at it, but the children abandoned him to try and be the one to get the shiny bit. They knew it was gold, and soon enough, Riku was the only one left. “What was that?” he asked.
“Gold coin,” Matthew answered, right before Grif acted.
The Gryphon flipped, and rolled in one quick motion, dumping his passenger onto the grass, before landing back on his paws and talons. Riku was on the ground beside him, doing his best to recover from the sudden fall. Grif casually placed his talons on Riku’s chest, spreading them wide, so Riku's neck was safely between two of them, and then he sat there, holdinging Riku down with no discernable effort.
If Grif had hoped to give Riku a fright, he was sorely disappointed. Riku stared, wide-eyed, in shock, and then broke out with a manic grin. “That was so cool!” He looked around him, and despite being pinned by the talons, quickly struck up a conversation with the Gryphon like they were enjoying a casual lunch together. “So, do you know Star Wars?”
“Yes. Though I do have to tell you, Riku, had you been another member of my species,” Grif whispered, keeping an amused expression, but with a cold edge to his voice, “you’d have been split from shoulder to hip during that flip, and bits of you would be spread across this area. Only an idiot tackles a Gryphon.”
“I’m not an idiot. I just like to see what I can do, and act,” he answered. “I can say I punched a Pegasus, and now I can say I tackled a Gryphon. Two things not even on my list to do before I die, and I did them.”
“You ever move to punch the Pegasus again, and you can add getting punched in the face with your own dissevered fist to the list,” Grif said, patting his chest to get the dust off his feathers, before turning away.
“Well, I guess you’ll have to wait till after I get back next Tuesday,” he said, still grinning from ear to ear.
“Believe me, I can cut your hand off, ball it into a fist, if necessary, and bludgeon you with it, before he’d even realized you’d punched him.” With a single flick of his wrist, Grif collapsed the bow.
“You’re that fast? As fast as Superman? I so want to see that now. Though, for the record, Batman’s still cooler.”
“Matthew, I’m going to put this away. If there’s anything extra you need packed away, bring it to me. I have room. What time did you want to take Lunar Fang and me into town? You implied there was something you wanted to do before we go, right?”
“Yeah. How about in thirty minutes? I can pack things up as well. You’ll find the books in stacks in the library. You can add those to your pack. We’ve been packing for the last few days.” He paused. “Oh, yeah. Dad?”
Eric was walking into the backyard just after the scene had finished. “I just wanted to say that when you and Lunar Fang go back, you’ll have a solar powered generator.”
“Dad, I cannot accept that. That is a bit too advanced.”
“Nonsense,” Selma interrupted. “You have an iPod, your cellphone, and the laptop. I just put together a package full of some more items to help. You’re the Commander. Can’t you create an Area 51 or something like that to store these things, if they’re really that dangerous? I certainly didn’t see them on your list of things not to bring back, and I checked it thoroughly.”
Matthew frowned. “You aren’t going to budge on this one, are you?”
“Nope. And your friend has a crazy bag, so it should fit in just fine,” his mother answered. “I don’t know how he got all those books to fit in there, but he did, and I’m guessing he can do the same for that generator. Whatever it is he did to it, the weight is still the same. Even I was able to pick it up.” She turned to Grif. “You want a solar powered generator?”
“How’d you get that anyway?” Robert asked. “Don’t they cost like four grand or something?”
“Gift from Director Jon. Something about showing that we’re willing to trade when routes open, or something like that,” Eric replied. “Look, it showed up, and the crate has the US logo on it. No way am I going to keep it.”
“Fine.” Matthew wilted. “Grif, we leave as soon as our weapons are put away. I need a milkshake.”
“Just be prepared,” Grif said “It may not be all you remember it to be.” With that, he left the area, and Riku sprung up like his usual hyperactive self.
“That was fun! Let’s do it again!”
The whole yard promptly facepalmed or facehoofed according to their species.
Conor sighed as he looked over the complex pile of legal jargon that was the supposed contract, security application, and other releases involved. He wouldn’t be surprised to find it spanned the whole table twice as he looked down the long expanse to the television cabinet on the other end.
“I feel like I’m at a meeting for a board of directors,” he grumbled.
“Well, technically, you are,” his mother said. “Are you sure about all this, Conor?”
“Not really.” Conor sighed again and shook his head. “But there’s not really anybody else qualified for the job.”
“You know you’ll be a target,” his dad pointed out.
“I’ve been trained for that.”
“Enough that you’re willing to gamble your life over this?”
“If it means keeping contact with my friends, yes.”
“Conor–”
“Dad, first of all, I’m friends with both rulers in that kingdom, and they’re capable of manipulating celestial bodies. If anybody did try to hurt me, they could easily figure out who did it, when, what they were wearing, and what they even had for breakfast that morning, before targeting them with either solar fire, a surge in the tides, or the equivalent of a devastating death ray. They could teleport into the room in an instant, dispatch whoever was responsible, and then bring their corpse back as a warning to whichever government sent them, and the list goes on. Is it scary? Yes. Is it life threatening? Potentially. But it’s good pay, a good life, and I know that my friends will keep me safe. And since I’m one of the only humans to have contact with this nation, and to have actually visited another world, this is probably the best bet I’ll have at freedom, since I’m pretty sure the government will be breathing down my neck regardless. It’s just a matter of whether I’m aware and allowing it, or whether they’re forcing it on me behind my back.”
“And if you have to go there again?” his mother asked.
“Then I’ll go, and I’ll come back to visit. It’ll basically be like I’m moving out of the house, just a little earlier than expected.”
“And without a phone to call with.”
Conor shrugged. “Discord would probably figure out a way.” He turned to the aide. “But I’m not signing these papers till I know exactly what they’re supposed to mean, what they’re saying, and I sure as heck won’t sign a privacy statement. I’ll tell who I want, when I want, if I want. It’s not like I’m going to blab all over to my friends here about it. Like they’d actually believe me anyways.” He rolled his eyes. “It’d make a fun story, though.”
“Would you at least consent to fingerprinting and retinal identification?” the aide pleaded.
“Well that’s a given. I just mean all the other legal and technical garbage. No offense to the bureaucracy, but it’s seriously way too complicated. I’m a man of my word. If I say I’ll do something, I’ll do it, and that’s that.”
“And your contract?”
“I’m pretty sure Celestia’s document will suffice on that score.”
“You won’t sign anything?”
“I have to look at the bigger picture. I’m loyal to the ideals I’ve been taught from birth, and the American Dream, but assuming this goes further, I’ll need to be an ambassador for the world, not just for our government alone. That means I have to stay neutral.”
“Yes, but until then, we have to have at least document saying you’re willing to take at least one secret service detail for protection. That’s going to be one of main the issues at the summit, how to provide security for you. Under UN Charter, secret clause sixteen, which I only got debriefed on yesterday, I might add, it’s acceptable for the host nation that initiated first contact to provide security till the first contact summit officially commences. Unless you prefer a bunch of US Marines following you everywhere, I suggest you sign.”
Conor rolled his eyes. “Fine, but only if I can tell that’s the only thing the document is binding me to.”
“Read for yourself.” The aide shifted the document in question across the table. “‘The undersigned hereby agrees to entrust his or her person to the protection of the secret service, and agrees to turn over all matters of his or her personal safety to their hands, should a life-threatening or harmful situation arise.’ It also requires you to give up your driver’s license for the time that you would be needing a protection detail, and quite possibly beyond, depending on how the situation develops. You’ll be getting a different form of identification instead. You’ll get a new car with bulletproof tinted windows, and an escort. Of course, for the less-formal events outside of Washington, you won’t have to worry about having so many cars, and circumstances will change based on the level of threat involved at the time, but that’s pretty much the long and the short of it. Then there’s this last one, which authorizes whoever you pick as your personal aide and secretary to read and translate the ‘legal jargon,’ as you so eloquently put it, into plain English. That person will also have the same security clearance that you will receive, at least in regards to the documents that you would need to review in your position.”
“Seriously?” Conor groaned. “Why so much when nobody even knows about me yet? Or has the President been broadcasting my face to every major government in the world?” He leaned back in his chair and sighed as he swiveled in it. “And I’m guessing the President has a pile of candidates somewhere in all this mess for me to review?”
“Yes, the President does have a list,” the aide responded. “As for your other question, your face actually has been shown to various world leaders, including Queen Elizabeth the Second, who most likely gave it personally to her prime minister; Putin of the Russian Federation; the President of the People’s Republic of China, Xi Jinping; and the Secretary-General of the UN. From there, your face will be transmitted to the other countries’ inner departments as we all get ready for the summit. Your face will be on the news wires tonight, and it won’t matter if this is the weekend. Like it or not, this will be blowing up. It’s better to control things now, rather than let things get out of hand. You’ll have your first press conference on Tuesday afternoon in the Rose Garden, assuming the weather holds.”
“You do realize that’s going to be incredibly difficult for America to swallow, right?”
“The other option is much worse.”
Conor groaned. “Politics.”
“My sentiments exactly, Sir.”
“Thank you for coming in on such short notice,” Agent Scully said. “I know you want to spend time with your family; however, Agent Bubbles noticed that you’ve been doing worse, and overheard that you need to return to Equestria soon. We just want to gather some information to compare with your first tests to see just how much you’ve changed since your arrival. We won’t keep you for any observations. It’ll just be a quick in and out. You can even ask questions, if you want.”
“I already have a feeling you’re lying when you say this will be quick.” Shawn frowned before sighing. “So, what do you test first?”
“Well, CAT scan, MRI, and then an X-ray. After that, we’ll need you to cut yourself again, and, well, that’s actually it. We want to see if you’ll still spike the radiation tests.”
“Yeah. A ‘quick’ visit, huh?”
Scully sighed and rolled her eyes. “You get first priority, so you should be done in two hours to three hours tops.”
“I have a feeling you have more tests that you aren’t listing,” Shawn commented flatly.
“Well, they are the kind that, if I told you what they were, it would defeat the purpose of said test. I promise, four hours at the very most, and that’s pushing well beyond the limits of reason. If we pass four hours, you tell us, and we’ll let you go.”
Shawn sighed. “I have my doubts, but fine. Let’s just get this over with. So what comes first? You want to throw a geiger counter my way?”
Scully handed the device in question over to him, which had already started clicking away. “So far, we don’t know why you set it off. We can tell we’re not getting radiation sickness from you, nor are we growing any fur.”
“You guys got some weird theories.”
“Well, excuse us for being thorough. If you brought some of that Equestrian magic here, it was a viable theory that you could have spread it to one of us as a sort of virus.”
“First of all, no, that couldn’t happen, because Earth would absorb any mana we brought with us. Secondly, yes, it’s still weird.”
“Says the man who can create fire from his hands.”
“. . . Touché.”
“Shall we begin?” one of the nurses asked with a smile.
“Sure.”
The ‘brief’ tests took a good two hours to finish. As they had suspected, Shawn had to, once again, cut his own arm open, as nobody had a proper tool, nor the strength, apparently, to do it themselves.
“Now, if you would please head out that door there, you’ll meet Doctor Goldberg. He’ll tell you the next part. This should only take an hour to perform, since we know what needs to be done.”
Shawn sighed as he stood and moved to the door, pushing it open with not so much ease as he made his way to the next section.
Doctor Goldberg was a larger, surprisingly muscular man with a bald head. “Hello, Mister Viginti,” he started. “You're here today, so that we can get an idea about the limits of your . . . special abilities.”
“So you want me to melt stuff?”
“Eventually. But first we’ll do some more standard tests: check your speed, endurance, physical strength, that sort of thing.”
“Well, speed is certainly not something I’ll excell at.” Shawn frowned. “Strength, on the other hand. . . .”
“Well let's start with that, then,” the doctor said, taking him to a machine where a single bar stood between two large rectangular pieces. The ends of the bar were slotted into large tracks that ran all the way up the bar. “What I need you to do is lift this bar. We’ll start adding resistance to it until it becomes too much for you, okay?”
“Got it,” Shawn replied as he moved over and lifted said bar, which felt like it had no weights on it. The doctor started to push a slider further and further up on the control console to add more pressure.
A half hour later, Doctor Goldberg had checked and double checked the machine, which was currently running at peak capacity. He looked to Shawn, who stood there with the bar in his hands like it weighed nothing. “Uh, yeah. You . . . you can set it down now.”
Shawn let go of the bar, which proceeded to slam downward, shifting the machine as the force of the collision channeled into the floor. “So, how much was that?”
“Four thousand imperial pounds,” Goldberg said in a quiet voice. His shock was evident as he looked at the bar and the dents it had made in the metal beneath it. “And that's inconclusive”
“It couldn’t go any further?”
“The world's strongest man competition makes their competitors lift eleven hundred pounds, so the machine was created for the maximum weight to be impossible under normal means”
“Oh. Well that’s a shame. So what comes next?”
“I’d suggest testing how much you can pull, but i’m not entirely certain we can trust the machinery for that now.”
“What makes you say that?”
“I’m pretty sure you’ll break it.”
“. . . True. So what comes after that, then?”
“How about cardiovascular endurance?” Goldberg suggested as he motioned towards a larger treadmill.
What followed was an hour long test that revealed part of the data they wanted, but not Shawn’s real limit. After determining he didn’t run too much faster than an average marathon runner, they put him to the test of pushing that limit and seeing how he responded.
Shawn was certainly not impressed with the results. “So . . . once again inconclusive?” he questioned, having already guessed the response.
“Whatever your limits are,” Dr.Goldberg said as he took a shot of scotch, “they’re above what I have the means to determine.”
“That’s a shame. I was curious myself of what my limit was.”
“We’ll work on making a better machine for next time.”
“Let’s hope it can at least get closer to finding said limit, yeah?”
“Agreed.”
George Park was home to many an eccentric person, and held a rich history that stretched from its initial founding all the way to the modern day. And in all of that colorful vibrant history, not once in a million years would anyone have thought that this one sight would happen. Two ponies, one with feathered wings, another with bat wings, were walking with a Gryphon behind them through the square. At that moment, Matthew was speaking in Equish.
“So we are coming up to the middle of town, and the location of the restaurant and ice cream shop, both of which are classics. In fact, the ice cream parlor has been serving residents here for three generations. It has an organ playing, and they have a table for kids that . . . might be able to fit Lunar Fang and I if we wanted. Or we can sit at the counter. The shop next door has a soda jerk fountain with a sandwich counter like you would find in the fifties. They have one behind plexiglass, and some signs from the sixties with the historical reasons why they are still displayed. The sandwich shop has been there for three generations as well, but they make the best burgers. The beef comes from one of the ranches run down the mountain. The cheese is from Boulder, and, well, they try to make everything fresh.”
Matthew looked up to the other end of the street, where a boxy horseshoe building made of local stones and masonwork wrapped around the end of the street. “There is the county building/town hall. The bank is nearby, and it is the only place that you can still deposit gems and gold dust. I stopped there yesterday to cash in some of the gems, which frankly turned into them just depositing it into my old savings account from before I left. It’s going to gain interest, and then my family can use it to help the local community. Well, at least I hope.” His stomach growled. “Shall we eat? Riku and Justin . . . I am both sorry and glad they were heading back down for their date nights with their girlfriends.”
Lunar Fang smiled as she listened to Matthew talk about the history of his town, which he had been doing for the last half hour at each building.
“After our late lunch. I’ll show you where I used to work before Equestria.”
“Like I said, just be careful,” Grif warned. “Food here is going to taste different.”
“As long as it doesn’t taste like cardboard, I’ll be fine. You’re talking to the military food lover, after all,” Matthew shot back. “Like I said. They try to make it as fresh as they can.”
He led them into the ice cream shop, Zephyr. “My father took me here when I was a foal, and his father took him when he was a foal as well. Three generations have dined here. If you want, we can also eat at the Daylight next door.” He grinned, wondering if Grif would catch all the train names.
“Lets see how this place is first,” Grif said. “You order.”
“Oh, I shall,” Matthew said as they found three open stools at the counter. The kids’ table was currently occupied. When they entered the shop, all noise stopped for a moment while phones were brought out and turned on to record the three. He flapped his wings to jump to the stool, which he could sit on fully without having his legs dangling. Lunar Fang landed on the stool next to Matthew, while Grif sat down on the stool on his other side.
Matthew grinned as they waited for the waiter. He looked at Lunar Fang, and then at Grif before he opened his wings and flapped one wing that sent him spinning around on the stool. Lunar Fang caught the goofy grin on his muzzle, and couldn’t help but laugh at the antics, before she joined her husband for no other purpose then to keep him smiling.
“Ahem,” a voice cleared as an older man with thinning hair at the top of his head walked up to them. “Welcome to Zephyr. As a member of the staff here, I am obligated to remind you that we are a food establishment, not a playground.” One could tell he was doing his hardest not to laugh at the antics. “Despite how cute it may be.”
The two ponies used their wings to stop their spinning. “Hello, Doctor Zephyr,” Matthew spoke happily. “Can we get two Moon Oreo shakes?” He asked with a smile. “Light side.”
Dr. Zephyr blinked as he heard the voice. “Wow, so you really can speak English. my children said talking ponies were at the party last night, but still. . . . Well, two moon shakes coming up, I guess.” He looked at the Gryphon. “And you?” he asked as he pointed to the list of shakes and sundaes written on the chalkboard. “We have some spooky Halloween treats, if you’re interested.”
“How about you suggest something?” Grif said.
“I‘d recommend The Works.”
Grif dropped a few fifties on the counter. “Let's do it, then.”
“Just one fifty would work for all three of you,” Dr. Zephyr replied with a chuckle. And you don’t have to pay till after you eat.”
“Call the rest a tip.” Grif smiled “I don’t need it.”
“I . . . well, I guess . . . well, thank you,” Dr. Zephyr responded as he took the bills and slowly made his way to the back of the kitchen.
Matthew smiled as he looked around at the customers in the dining area. “So, you think we are going to be giving our friend a headache by eating here? I doubt they can cover this up,” he said in Equish.
“Why do you say that?” Grif asked.
“Well, we are three aliens, eating Earth food, sitting on chairs, and I just did something random and unpredictable. I wonder how hard they will try covering this up till they can’t anymore.”
“We paid for it,” Grif said as he shrugged.
“Yes, and we are being recorded by every single phone in the place,” Matthew countered with a laugh.
“Most people only get fifteen minutes,” Grif said, before joining his friend in a chuckle.
“We are going to get way more than fifteen,” Matthew pointed out.
They soon had their desserts brought out to them, and began their meal, complete with two large metal cups that held extra milkshakes. Matthew used a wing to pick up the very long handled spoon. He took a small bite, and then frowned. He remembered how it tasted before, but as much as he hated to admit it, Sugarcube Cornerwas better. He made sure he spoke only in Equish. “Grif, this was my favorite place for milkshakes and treats, and on an Earth scale, it still is, and I can tell they’re trying their best, but. . . .”
Grif patted a consoling hand on his friend’s back. “I know, my friend. I know.”
“Still, I am going to try a burger next.”
“It’s better than some of the food I’ve had,” Grif admitted.
“Why do you think I like these places so much? You might try one of the foods from the Daylight,” Matthew suggested.
“Excuse me,” Lunar Fang broke in, her southern belle accent clear and pure as crystal goblets. “May we have some hay–?” She broke off as Matthew stopped her, whispering into her ear. “Oh. I’m sorry. I meant to say french fries.”
“Sure. I can do that for a polite young…” The man stopped for a moment as he tried to process how best to continue. “Uh, it’s okay to call you a lady, right?”
Lunar Fang giggled and nodded her ascent.
“Phew. Thanks.” He looked to Matthew. “What kind of dipping sauce do you want?”
“The house fry sauce,” Matthew answered. “Yes I know about the sauce, and I think it sounds amazing.”
“I heard you talking about eating over next door. I can get you menus from the Daylight, if you want to eat here. I’m sure the owners won’t mind.”
“That would be nice.” What followed next was a simple, enjoyable meal handled with a mix of Equish and English, and, much to Grif’s continuing surprise, the food was actually pleasing to his pallet.
Shawn knew his time was nearly up, both by the fact that he was running low on energy, and the fact that it was the end of the third day. He’d already said his goodbyes, and stored everything away in his coat. Now he waited in his living room, watching time slip by.
He looked out the window at the city around him, the cars roaming the streets, some people possibly returning home or going to a graveyard shift. Some people were even walking around on a late night jog.
While he may have been great at acting, he was running low on power, and it was obvious in his posture and lack of physical energy. His internal injuries were staying sealed for the most part, but if he did too many actions he could easily open them up again, and that would cause a lot of problems. Next trip over, he needed to remember to bring some crystals to give him more energy. That, and he would need to figure out something for the others. If he was feeling this bad, he didn’t know exactly how bad it was for the others. The only thing he knew was that he should be feeling it the worst.
He sighed aloud as he removed a familiar golden blade, and placed it against the wall across from the door. He quickly moved to write a note:
My time here has ended, but I will return one day. I don’t know how long it will be, but I will return. I wanted to leave something to remember me by, more than just memories. What better than the very sword that I had for Halloween that fateful night? This once decorative blade is now very much real, and has saved my life many times. I wanted to return it, as well as a small additional thing.
Signed,
Shawn Octo Viginti
Shawn smiled as he placed the note on the blade, and pulled a small pouch from his pocket. The faint clicking of shifting bits emanated from it as he laid it down next to the sword. His family wasn’t in any real need of money, but he was sure they would enjoy the extra cash to spend on themselves, rather than bills.
And then he waited. He didn’t have to wait long.
It was sudden, just a feeling of energy growing in him, before everything faded to black.
Matthew looked around. The sun had set, and the moon was rising. The pony carts were packed with the models, and Grif had his pack filled with his materials and the extra things that couldn’t fit into the carts, including several books from the library. Matthew finished helping his wife hitch her cart’s harness before moving to his own. He stopped as he heard voices being cleared, then turned his head to look at the family. Eric, Nancy, Mark, Selma, and many of his cousins held items in their hands. Each of them were some type of picture. Eric stepped forward first, and presented a thick three ring binder that had been decorated with intricate steam train designs. “This is a family photo album your great-uncle started for you. All of them are replicas, but they’ve got the stories from them written in there, too, so you won’t feel like you missed so much from when you were gone.” He carefully put the book into the cart next to a box of vinyl disks.
Next came Nancy and the majority of the family. Each of them held a shadow box with pictures from his old ROTC days and a variety of stories from his family’s history of military service ranging from the modern day to the French and Indian War. He looked at each one quickly, but his hampered breathing reminded him only too well just how short his time was. He smiled and nodded his head. “They will hang in my personal quarters, so my family will know our history.”
“I can’t wait to get home,” Grif said. “I’ve got so much to show the girls.”
“Same here. You do know that you are carrying my library as well, correct?” Matthew said with a smirk, before stopping as Great Aunt Selma stepped forward.
“It’s a bit tight in there, but they should fit.” Grif nodded, patting his bag.
Matthew nodded as his aunt stood in front of him. She turned around an item shaped like a triangle. “Your grandfather, the VFW, and I got together to make this. It was meant to be for your birthday, but you vanished before we could give it to you.”
Selma turned it around to reveal a glass case covering a folded American Flag. The little brass plate at the front read the following. “In memory of all those who have served, will serve, and wish to serve.” She smiled. “We have more replicas like these at home, so don’t worry about feeling like you’re stealing from me. Your great-uncle felt that we should have these ready, and he wanted you to have it.”
“Thank you,” Matthew said as tears formed in his eyes and slowly poured down his cheeks. Selma put the case into the cart with the album, then turned around and bent down to the ground to throw her arms around the Pegasus’ neck.
Matthew wrapped his hoof around her neck and wrapped the other foreleg around her as he hugged. The tears came faster now. He felt a welling in his chest, and for a moment, all sound cut out. It was getting hard to hide how tired he was, and how weak.
“Here it comes,” Grif said, a moment before there was an audible pop, and the three Equestrian figures vanished. Great Aunt Selma was left hugging air. All signs of the Equestrian visitors had disappeared.
“Thanks again for helping me with all of this adjustment, Barry,” Conor said as he carried yet another box full of office supplies into the admittedly smaller space. He chuckled as he took in the rectangular office. A pair of pale cream book shelves stood on either side behind the swivel chair on his new desk. A professionally embossed copy of Equestria’s seal had been placed on top of the dark mahogany desk, and polished to a shine. Stacks of folders, documents, and other miscellaneous items, including various binders containing the manuals surrounding diplomatic policy and terms. “This reminds me of my room at college. Then again, I suppose that makes sense, since we’re opening this embassy from scratch.” He heaved a dictionary, and slammed it onto the desk, and as he did so, the arm band Luna had forged for him reflected the light from the fixtures in the walls and ceiling. The dictionary bore the twin seals of America and Equestria. “Do I seriously have to fact check every single word in this thing?”
“Well, it was typed quickly from the dictionary scrolls, and we’d rather make sure that we didn’t mix up the words ‘friend’ and ‘fiend’, you know, that sort of thing,” the aide responded. “Oh, and thank you again for your trial run, Sir.”
“You’re the only one I’ve actually gotten to know thus far, and for all I know, you could be an agent yourself that was deliberately planted as a last line of defense.”
“I have none of that training. Besides, under the second rule for those asked to help, total honesty is to be used, just in case any of the . . . magic from the element of honesty rubbed off on you. We aren’t going to take any chances.”
“But the President is authorized to select whatever safety measures he deems important to me, so, in this case, should he deem that you lying to me is necessary for my safety, he would probably order you to do it, and you would.” Conor shrugged. “Either way, it’s not that big of a deal, and I need someone with the knowhow to help me get started.”
“Well, that leads me to introducing your secretary.” He nodded as an older women about Conor’s mother’s age walked into the room. “This is Mrs. Cunningham.”
“Good afternoon, Mister Ambassador. I have your schedule for the next week lined up. You’ll find a copy of it on your desk later, and another copy will be kept in the conference room. In thirty minutes, you’ll have your first staff meeting. That’s charted to go for about an hour, after which your parents and you will be having dinner at 1789. For the record, that’s the restaurant's name, not the time. After that, you’ll all be driven to your temporary quarters, and you’ll start again on Monday. I can have a paper copy ready by your dinner tonight,” Mrs. Cunningham said cheerfully as she looked up from her PDA.
“I guess I should’ve expected that one.” Conor sighed, then extended a hand. “Thanks for all the help, Mrs. Cunningham, but I’d appreciate it if you just called me Conor. I’m not exactly the most formal kind of person.”
“Oh, I could never do that, Mister Ambassador,” Mrs. Cunningham responded. “It wouldn’t be right. I’m supposed to be the secretary to the ambassador, not Conor’s secretary.”
“. . . I’m the same person,” he said sardonically.
“Okay, note to self, don’t use sarcasm around the boss,” Mrs. Cunningham muttered.
“Yeah, sorry about that,” Conor said with a nervous chuckle. “It took a long time for the guys to get used to that one, but I guess that’s another reason why Celestia chose me in the first place. She knows I’m not the type to use sarcasm unless it’s obvious, and she knows I can be trusted.” He shrugged. “At least I try to be trustworthy.” He shuddered suddenly. “Is it a little cold in here, or is it just me?”
“I’ll have them check out the vents Monday,” Mrs. Cunningham replied. “It might be differences of climate.” She shrugged. “If you need me, please use the intercom. You don’t need to shout.” She turned around and walked back to her desk and the outer office, closing the door behind her.
“Right. I’ll get to work prepping the binders for your meeting. Also, Monday afternoon you’ll be going to one of the DC tailors to get a suit made, unless you have a suit and tie you feel comfortable in.”
“I might need to get a new one. I’ve lost a lot of weight since this all started,” Conor said. “Thanks, Barry. Though I have to admit, I’d honestly prefer to go just as myself, if I can. I know some situations require a suit, but I like to present me as me, you know? Not just some other member of the White House staff. No offense.” He strode over to one of the shelves and took a seat, well, more fell into it with all the extra boxes around. Then he pulled out a large pearl from his cargo pocket and stared at it for a time before casting his eyes around the office once more. “Say, Barry, you said this office was supposed to be new, right?”
“That’s right. Well, the building itself isn’t that new, but we did just finish a renovation.”
“So why’s there a big crack over the door?”
Barry looked back and over the door’s frame. “That was not there before,” he muttered. He turned to look at Conor. “I assure you, when we looked over the building this morning, there were no cracks in any of the walls.”
Conor shuddered again and leaned heavily on the chair’s arm as the crack suddenly widened. “I feel . . . funny, and not in a good way.”
“Mrs. Cunningham, get first contact staff. We have possible inbound!” Barry shouted.
“No need to shout, Mister Nathan,” she replied as the sound of the receiver clicked into the room.
“What should we do?” Barry asked as the crack widened again, letting a white light bleed into the room.
“Nothing,” Conor said simply as he stood. His whole body shivered as he stepped towards the widening gap, clenching tightly to the pearl. “If it’s someone coming, then we greet them with courtesy, and try to accommodate them until we figure out a way to send them back. Otherwise, we just wait for the anomaly to close again.”
“What’s that buzzing?”
Conor stiffened. “On second thought, go to red alert, or whatever equivalent you have here.”
“Why would–?”
“Buzzing means insect wings, which means one of three things. Either there’s a horde of parasprites, in which case you should probably shoot on sight or risk the entirety of the nation being ravaged with no food to speak of; a horde of Changelings who are loyal to Equestria, or more specifically to Shawn and Hammer Strike; or it could be the worst option.”
“Which is?”
“Changelings that serve Chrysalis, and if you don’t already have a bio on her, she’s basically a tyrant who uses her hive like a bloody fist. If it’s her Changelings on the other end, we’ll definitely need as much firepower as we can muster.” He swayed on his feet as the crack broadened to the point where the light spread across the door and formed a hole that hovered inexplicably within the frame and the wall itself. “And whatever you do, do not touch that rift.”
“Rule number one in our packet,” he muttered. “Mrs. Cunningham, we need Marines. This could be a hostile portal,” he grumped. “We should have gotten heavier protection sooner, but no, someone in the department thought it would all be fine till next Tuesday!”
“Well, it’s not a bad system to follow when it comes to Equestria,” Conor pointed out. He approached the crack with closed eyes and an extended hand. “It doesn’t feel like anything’s traveling through. I think I’d be able to tell.”
“Based on what, a feeling?”
Conor sighed and shook his head. “Magic, remember?” He turned to make his way back to his desk, only for a sudden sense of vertigo to overtake him. He stumbled, felt something next to his foot, saw a flash of blue as his world shifted from the floor to the ceiling as he windmilled his arms. “Not again!” he wailed as he touched the rift. There was a bright flash of white light, and then he was gone.
Barry gawked at the door, then at the offending article that had caused Conor to trip in the first place. “How the heck didn’t he notice these before?” he muttered to himself as he picked up the books of The Inheritance Cycle from their scattered positions across the floor. “Mrs. Cunningham, cancel that order, and get the President on the line.” He groaned and massaged his forehead. “He’s not going to like this.”
As New Unity set to its own fortifications, the Bladefeathers prepared for the siege. The cliffside entrances to the compound were each carefully sealed with a sheet of heavy chitin donated by Me-Me’s hive. Behind these walls, boulders large enough to require three of the bigger males to move were placed behind it to seal the entrance. Homes were emptied of their occupants, and all usable food stores were moved to the main building.
The windows on the main compound were each sealed using specially carved stone slabs that clicked into place using hidden ridges only a Gryphon’s eye could uncover. When it was certain the only usable entrances were the front doors and the gate of the wall surrounding the compound, the armory was opened. At the orders of Talon Hammer: an Equestrian-born Gryphon with the large wings, a proud, deadly beak, the piercing eyes of a bald eagle, and the powerful coiled body of a spotted leopard, weapons were distributed. Seventy warriors of varying gender and species flooded the yard in front of the compound’s main building. The foremost portion of the gate was walled off by several lines of Gryphons carrying massive great shields and spears. Up on the wall, more Gryphons perched, and removed their bows. Ping and her three companions stood with the warriors, their swords and other weapons at the ready.
Inside the main building, twenty more guards barred the door with a large phalanx punctuated by long steel pikes. They were led by Thalia, who issued orders as she squeezed her dual hand axe.
Shrial and Avalon had been put in charge of collecting up the Gryphons that were either too old or too young to fight; or, as in their own personal cases, some few others who were either pregnant or with young cubs. They were placed inside the innermost chamber, where another set of doors closed, sealing so completely that, from the outside, no one would be able to see the seam and know there was a door in the first place.
“Where is the clan lord?” one of the older male Gryphons asked. “He should be here.”
Shrial stepped forward and bared her teeth. “He will be here, Terrence, if you’d be willing to actually have some faith in him.” She raised a sword to his face, despite the distortion of her belly, and Terrence backed away accordingly. Every male knew not to mess with a female when she was pregnant, especially this close to her time. “Now you’d better shut your beak, before I shut it for you, or so help me–”
Shrial never got to finish that sentence. Her sword clattered to the ground, filling the room with the echo of ringing metal. She clutched at her stomach, collapsed onto the chamber’s floor, and screamed.
Kalima rushed instantly to the expecting mother’s side. “It’s time!” she said, looking to Avalon. “Come. We must get her comfortable.” The two managed to move Shrial to one of the corners of the room. A group of Gryphonesses quickly huddled around them, and extended their wings to form a makeshift curtain. Birthing was meant to be a private affair, and with the exception of the father, who wasn’t present, only females were generally allowed to attend to it. The males wisely backed away as they each went about a task to try not to draw the ire of the protective females.
“It’s too soon!” Shrial protested, even as she grunted, while the contractions began to pick up pace. “They were supposed to wait for their father!”
“We can’t always choose these kinds of things, Shrial. Now I want you to take deep breaths. This is likely going to take some time,” Kalima said calmly as she dipped a cloth into a bowl of water Avalon had poured.
“How much . . . time . . . exactly?” Shrial huffed.
“Enough to make you want to curse the Winds for ever granting you children in the first place,” she said frankly.
“Great. When I see Grif next time, remind me to kill him.” She groaned as she clutched at her stomach again. “It hurts!”
“I know, child. I know.”
As Shrial screamed inside the confines of the clan building, outside, the archers drew their first arrows, and the guards at the gate bristled. From the edge of the Everfree, black figures emerged in formations. Their numbers soon covered every visible inch of space,turning the ground into a wave of pitch blackness and glowing blue eyes, all mindlessly focused on one target, one desire, one will. The first Changeling advance had come, and the second battle for New Unity had begun.
Extended Holiday Chapter 103: The Tempest and the Inferno: The Swarm Act 16
Pensword opened his eyes to find himself standing in the Canterlot Royal Gardens. He quickly took stock of the surroundings. There was Celestia and Cadence with Moon River. Cosy was nowhere to be seen, and night had fallen, but he couldn’t see Luna anywhere. “Princess Celestia,” he began. “Is there a problem? Where are Princess Twilight and Princess Luna?” He was doing his best not to melt into a puddle and roll around in the grass at the sensation of life and energy returning to him. His muscles felt so vibrant, his chest so free. He could breathe, he could run, he could fly! But discipline had to come first. He was Commander Pensword first and foremost.
Grif, on the other hand, cooed with delight as the winds swirled around him. Much like with Pensword, the rush of energy and power running through his body was euphoric. It devoured the fatigue that had been building, and it destroyed the pains in his chest instantly. He flapped his wings, enjoying the feeling of power and well-being as it washed over him while he took to the air.
A flash of light came, followed by a relieved groan escaping Hammer Strike’s mouth as he stretched. Flames licked off his coat and mane as he smiled in utter bliss. “That’s the kinda feeling you get addicted to.” He sighed happily. His internal injuries felt absolutely fine. In fact, he hadn’t felt this good in a long time.
“So what's up, Celestia?” Grif asked as he landed. “You look tense.”
Celestia looked grimly on them. “You’re not going to like what I have to say.”
Hammer Strike’s smile turned to a frown as he turned towards her. “What’s the problem?”
“We just received word that New Unity is under attack. I’m afraid Chrysalis and her Changelings have returned to seek your demise yet again. And to top it all off, Shrial just went into labor.”
There was a shockwave as Grif took off with no warning, no signal. He was simply there, and then he wasn’t as he shot into the air towards New Unity like a cannonball.
“I assume you two would prefer teleportation?” Celestia asked.
“As soon as poss–”
Hammer Strike was cut off as a gaping hole of light opened in the air above them briefly, followed by a loud crash and the sound of a single bush rustling in pain and frustration as the hole sealed shut.
“Ow. . . .” Conor groaned as he struggled with the plantlife, his pearl glowing dully beside him.
Hammer Strike exhaled in frustration. “Oh, we’re so going to talk later,” he spoke softly, before looking to Celestia once again. “We don’t have time for conversation. Keep him here, and teleport Pensword, Lunar Fang, and myself now.”
“Luna will be teleporting you. She plans on joining you on the battlefield.” As the conversation progressed, Pensword and Lunar Fang quickly removed the contents of their carts to get their armor and prepare for battle.
“Understood,” Pensword said as he donned his wing blades. “We’ll be dressed and ready ASAP.” Lunar Fang already had her chest plate on as the pair worked with each other to arm themselves.
“Fine then. They will go with Luna. But right now, Celestia, teleport me,” Hammer Strike pressed. The frustration was clearly evident in his tone.
Celestia nodded her head as her horn glowed, and weaved its magic around Hammer Strike, before he winked out in the teleport field.
Pensword looked to Celestia. “You will get a full report after the battle is over; however, I will be also be asking for access to troops to march into the badlands. This is number two in less than a year. Number three, if you counter the Canterlot wedding. This is war, and we have to march against her.”
“We will talk when the battle is over, Pensword,” Celestia promised. She walked over to her rather abused rose bush, using her magic to lift the dazed human out of the thorns’ reach. “Again with the rose bush. Why does it always have to be the rose bush?” she sighed.
Hammer Strike arrived in his personal armory, and rather than picking out a single weapon, he began loading up, placing them into the storage of his coat. After he was finished, he pushed out of the room, greatsword on his back as he made his way out of the building.
The four Changelings he’d adopted into his troops all dropped from the walls around him in astonishment. “You came so fast, Lord Strike.”
“Teleportation,” he said flatly. “Now onto important matters. How’s the situation looking so far?”
“The Ponies rallied in time. We felt the presence of the queen’s hive before it could fully effect it’s surprise, and we warned your hive in turn. She has launched many charges, but so far the boulder tossers and the pointed stick throwers have been successful. Still, they are many, and we are not.”
“What they have in number, we have in experience. New Unity will not fall, especially by Chrysalis’ hooves,” Hammer practically growled out.
“We will fight until the last, Lord Strike,” another Changeling spoke. “This hive will stand.”
Hammer Strike pushed open the main doors of his castle, and stormed into the courtyard to witness the siege teams working as fast as they could as the trebuchets’ massive counterweights were pulled down into position. Large tar-covered boulders were loaded by groups of Unicorns, and lit on fire, before the crews cleared away, and the boulders were released into the air. The entire fortress was covered in a large dome of transparent teal energy. Clover sat dead center in the courtyard, concentrating hard as her horn glowed cherry red beneath her aura.
“My lord!” Several ponies rushed Hammer Strike at once, including the two Shield brothers. “Thank Sleipnir you made it in time!” Blast Shield said.
“Status report,” Hammer Strike ordered.
“We’ve placed the civilians in the fortress citadel, collected up all the supplies, and we’ve done our best to seal the entrances, but a few stragglers managed to find weaknesses. We’ve lost seventeen recruits so far to surprises. The trebuchets are punching holes in their formations, but it seems more like antholes in a writhing mass, Sir. There are thousands of them. The Bladefeathers have been harassing them from their compound, but they’ve had to retreat quickly to avoid being overwhelmed. The archers are running out of arrows, the slingers are prepared to go out, but we’ll be out of javelins before the day is done. There are so many, Sir,” Tower Shield reported.
“I believe it’s time to pull out the real ammunition,” Hammer Strike replied. “I’m giving clearance to take weapons from the restricted section of the armory.”
“Yes, Sir.” Blast Shield nodded, and took off to see to it. “Are you not donning your armor?”
“It’ll only get in the way,” Hammer Strike replied as the flames licking off him grew in intensity.
“Shall I continue to command the defenses then, Sir?” Tower asked as he eyed the flames.
“Yes. Meanwhile . . . you four–” He turned his attention to the Changelings once more. “–will remain in here to help point out infiltrators, understood?”
“Yes, Lord Strike. We shall drain any who would dare sneak into your hive.” They all nodded in unison.
“Now, while you all get to work, I’m going out there. I’ve got some work to do,” he finished with a growl.
‘Sir.” Tower shield bowed his head, then left to resume command.
Meanwhile, at the portcullis, one of the Earth Pony guards stood beside the gatehouse, arguing with a familiar minotaur.
“There are thousands of Changelings out there. You can’t go out to fight alone!” the guard growled at the Minotaur.
“Big Guns isn’t going alone,” Big Guns said as he pointed to his war hammer. It glowed an angry red. “Changelings attack our home, our herd. We don’t like that, and those puny bugs need to learn some respect.” He snorted and smacked his fists together, and his root-like mane writhed.
“You’ll be massacred in less than a minute,” the Earth Pony said. He would have continued, but he saw Hammer Strike approaching.
Hammer Strike said nothing as he passed the two and grabbed ahold of the metal frame, lifted it above his head, and walked under it, letting the weight slam back into the earth behind him. A dull red glow on the metal marked where his hoof had touched.
For a moment there was silence between the two as they watched the metal cool. Finally, the Earth Pony turned back to Big Guns.
“As I was saying, we’re not going to let you go and get yourself killed. With the way things are going, we’re going to have to start probing the field soon. If you're that desperate, you can get on the first group out the gate.”
“Fine,” Big Guns harrumphed. “But you’d better keep that promise, because Big Guns is waiting right here.”
“Yes, I’m sure you will be.” The Earth Pony sighed, knowing they’d be having this argument again in ten minutes. They’d had it six times already.
Grif was forced to land to duck a hail of spells just outside the Everfree Forest boundary. An almost solid mass of black chitin not only spread on the ground, but swarmed in the air as well. He could see their attempts to attack New Unity under its shield, as well as the bodies lining the Bladefeather compound perimeter. Several Gryphons were mixed amongst the black chitinous forms littering the ground. Grif attempted to measure his weapons, cursing his carelessness for being so badly armed for battle. He had two stilettos, a few throwing knives, and his bow, none of which would be useful in sustained close quarter combat. Fear, rage, and desperation warred within him as he heard Shrial’s cries on the wind. They were faint, but to his ears, that sound blared above the harshest din of the battle. The black gale within clawed to get out, promising him vengeance, promising it would get him there, and carve the enemy in the process. Grif did his best to repel that voice, but he knew even with his speed, even with the magic he had learned, without his weapons, there would be no way he could get to his family in time.
In a last attempt to ward off the encroaching despair and dark, Grif sank to the ground, lowered his beak, and did something he had not done in a considerable time.
“Oh great Winds, hear your Avatar. I know my failings are many to you, and my victories few, but please guide me, show me the path. In the name of love, rage, wisdom and contest, give me my future. Tear it from destiny’s claws, and show me how I may shape it.” He continued the prayer four times, as was tradition, hoping against hope for a miracle. Of course, the Winds did not send miracles…
In the Bladefeather compound’s meeting room, where the round table sat empty and forgotten, waiting for some unforeseen occupants, a low humming began to sound. The room lit up as tendrils of white energy crawled up the legs and across the surface. At every section of the table, a light blazed, and a symbol came into existence. Sometimes it was a Gryphon, or a Lion. Where Vengeance sat, a fleur de lis glowed, and when the light reached Vigilance, a beautiful white chalice shone above it. The light slowly flowed around the table, and when it finally came to the table’s topmost spot, a large red dragon in flight appeared. The table thrummed with power.
In Canterlot, Celestia had been discussing with her nobles to find support for New Unity’s defense with Conor at her side, when her head shot up, and her pupils dilated. She looked towards the origin of the pulse.
“Llamrei?”
Back in the Bladefeather compound, the seats at Vigilance and Vegeance’s spots slid back of their own accord, and the swords began to rise. As the chairs finished backing away from the table, two figures began to appear. A white Pegasus with a long, shining blond mane materialized in front of Vengeance. He said nothing as he gripped the sword's hilt in his teeth. He looked towards Vigilance, where another similar Pegasus gripped the twin sword’s hilt. He was shorter, smaller, and younger than his companion by many years, but his eyes shone more incandescently, as if someone like no other now stood there. The two Pegasi nodded to one another, then took to the air, the blades still in their mouths as they phased through the roof, taking the swords with them.
Grif stood with his final hope flickering as he prepared to embrace the dark gale. He could feel the black wind crawling up his body, just as it was crawling into his mind. But as he was about to give in, to let that power have free rein, he saw them, two translucent white Pegasi soaring across the field, and through the Changelings like they were nothing but a puff of air. A sword hung in either one’s mouth. Grif nearly fell back when they landed before him. In unison, they approached, and wordlessly dug the blades into the ground before him.
“Become not the Black Knight,” echoed through his mind as the Pegasus with the fleur de lis cutie mark bowed his head. “You will not forgive yourself.”
“Trust you have the strength to win the day.” The other Pegasus with the chalice mark repeated the action. “Trust the strength of your own arm.”
“Now rise, knight. Rise, and find victory.” The voices mingled as the figures vanished. With a reverent hesitance, Grif grasped the blades, and drew them from the earth. They thrummed with power, and he felt the black gale battered by the sudden rush as it was forced back deep into his mind with a keening wail. Whether it proved to be real, or merely a manifestation of his baser instincts being overcome, he did not know, but it didn’t matter anyways. He knew what he had to do. He knew where he had to be. And now he had the means to get there. The clang of battle began to sound different to him. The rhythm transformed into something from a hazy memory as it echoed within his heart and soul. It was his heartsong.
… And it was beautiful.
Pensword and Lunar Fang were helping Nightshade muster all the troops they could, including the cadets in Luna’s private military school for her guard. Thestral troops who were in Canterlot with the Lunar Court were also filling out the guard. Princess Luna looked out among the warriors. As the last few units mustered in, her keen eye could read five hundred strong, the majority of which came from her entire guard. She knew that teleporting now would leave not a single warrior Thestral in Canterlot, but they were needed.
“MY THESTRALS,” she boomed. “THAT CUR OF EQUESTRIA HAS ONCE AGAIN DEEMED IT FIT TO ATTACK. SHE WISHES TO TAKE THE GATEWAY CITY OF NEW UNITY. WE MUST NOT LET IT FALL TO HER HOOVES, NOR HER FANGS. WE WILL BE TELEPORTING INTO THE BATTLE, AND FROM THERE, WE SHALL GIVE THIS–” The words she used next were less than flattering, and caused Conor’s ears turn pink. “–REASON TO FEAR OUR UNITY! PREPARE YOUR ARMS. BE READY TO CHARGE THE MOMENT WE ARRIVE!”
The Troop stood silent. Luna nodded once as she raised Meteor Impact. Her magical aura enveloped the hammer, and caused her ursa armor to glow. “FOR EQUESTRIA! FOR THE MOON!”
The troops roared as one in a rallying cry, invoking the name of the legendary first Captain of the Lunar Guard. “ORION!” With a flash of moonlight, the troops were gone, leaving Conor and Celestia watching the empty courtyard from the ramparts.
“So, you decided to return,” Celestia said casually as she looked on at the empty space, which was now being filled with Celestia’s Solar Guard. Their armor shone brightly, and their manes and coats seemed almost to glow in the night as they each took a swig from a tiny bottle with a glowing yellow fluid, before turning to man their posts. Conor blushed as he rubbed at the scratches and scrapes he’d gotten thanks to the thorns from the rose bush.
“Um . . . yes and no?”
Celestia raised a quizzical brow. “Last I checked, it could only be one or the other.”
“I was kind of torn over the whole thing. And then a rift opened in the office they’d set up for me to get ready for diplomatic relations, and well, I, uh. . . .”
Celestia couldn’t help it as the corners of her lips began to tug upwards. “You tripped, didn’t you?”
“. . . Yes,” Conor admitted as he slumped forward. “The guys are going to be so angry with me.”
Celestia smiled. “Oh, I don’t know. A wise old tortoise once told me there are no accidents.”
Conor broke out of his melancholy for a moment as he processed those words. “A wise old tortoise? Just where did you meet this tortoise?” he asked suspiciously.
“Oh, we talk every once in awhile, usually while I’m meditating.”
“I don’t know if I even want to ask.”
Celestia chuckled. “Perhaps later, then. But the words do hold some merit. You may have chosen to come back without even realizing you had.”
“Seriously?”
She shrugged. “Who knows? As for Hammer Strike–.” She shuddered. “Well, just look for the bright side. As my old friend once said, ‘yesterday is history, tomorrow a mystery, but today is a gift. That is why it is called the present.’”
Conor facepalmed. “I should have known.” He shook his head, and chuckled. “Well, que sera sera, I guess.” He shrugged. “Either way, I’m in hot water, so I might as well get ready for it.” He fingered the arm band and its jewel again. “I guess I’m just lucky I chose to wear this to the office.”
Celestia smiled knowingly. “I get the feeling luck had little to do with it, and I have it on the highest authority that you were planning on coming back all along.”
“Whose authority?”
“The person who knows you best: Mister Conor Ignus Vulpes, or Vital Spark, if you prefer, who, perhaps by instinct,” she said as she levitated the band off his arm and the pearl from its place in his pocket, and hovered them between the two of them, “chose to take these in preparation for his imminent departure?”
“Celestia. . . .”
“Things happen for a reason, Conor. It is not always clear why. But I think it is clear that Equestria isn’t done with you just yet, and that you’re not done with Equestria either.”
Conor didn’t know what to say to that, so he stared quietly at the troops instead. “So what now?”
“We’ll work on it together. But in the meantime, how about I give you a little lesson? Something tells me Clover hasn’t been teaching you much about healing magic in your studies.”
“I’m still trying to master my basic element.”
“Oh, don’t worry. It’s easy. You’ll see,” she promised.
“But what about the battle?”
“I think we’re in enough hot water as it is, don’t you?”
Conor sighed. “Another point for you, Celestia.”
“Don’t feel bad. I’ve had a long time to practice.” She winked as the two suddenly appeared inside the royal library. Then she levitated the band back onto Conor’s arm, and placed the pearl on one of the tables. “Now come on. Let’s get to work.”
“Come on!” one of the Gryphon commanders shouted as they struggled to place a second bar across the second set of holds on the wooden gate. The doors rattled and strained from the effort as several pairs of behemoths charged headlong into them in timed waves, having the same effect as a battering ram. The first large beam barring the door was already cracked, and splintering from the effort. Fortunately, Grif had designed the doors to hold a second beam, should the need arise, but the trouble was placing it between the waves of force attacking the walls.
“Where are those damned archers? And why do those beasts still draw breath to charge us?” the commander questioned to no one in particular as they struggled.
Meanwhile, on top of the gate, the Gryphon archers unloaded shot after shot at the behemoths below, but even the force from their bows wasn’t enough to pierce the thick armor on the beasts, and it was getting harder to shoot as the winds increased their force, sending the arrows off course. The moment they adjusted, the winds shifted again, leaving them with one, maybe two lucky shots. The Changelings at least had been unsuccessful at getting above the fortress thanks to the warriors in the courtyard. Every Gryphon carried a bow, so it was always easy to clear the air, if anything made it over the wall. The Changelings learned that very quickly, but if the Gryphons lost the gate, even that mercy would be beyond them.
Their sharp eyes scanned the writhing masses that covered the space before the compound, desperately searching for any sort of weakness in the masses, any sign they were thinning after the countless corpses that lay around them, but it seemed like no such luck would be upon them. If only they could at least have a little rain. Rain would keep the Changelings from getting airborne, and then they might have a chance for a counterattack.
Just as another behemoth reared to charge, a heavy gust of air blew through the army and across the plains, only to stop in front of the compound's walls. Every Changeling it hit froze dead still. The archers couldn’t think of why for a moment until the behemoth at the gate collapsed, first one half, and then the other. The small shock of the weight hitting the ground caused a chain reaction as a long line of changelings literally fell to pieces, their thick green blood glowing on the turf. For a moment, an archer on the battlements saw the gleam of armor beneath the blanket of Changelings, before the space was covered again. Still, hope warmed the Gryphon’s breast.
“The clan leader is here! The Avatar has taken the field! Prepare to charge!” he shouted with renewed vigor as Gryphons and the few Kitsune drew their weapons. A shockwave echoed through the area as the wind swirled violently above the compound’s walls, until it pulled the clouds down. Before their very eyes, the winds that had once hindered them had descended to wreak havoc upon their enemies. Truly, the Avatar of Winds had come into his own.
The Changelings paused as the portcullis rose and fell. The hive didn’t know what to think about it. Those that were close enough to see were snuffed out too quickly to register their visual receptors with the hive link. In response to this unknown threat, the Changelings surged en masse towards the bridge. Some swarmed along the sides and beneath the archway, while the others skittered along the thick stones to form a pulsing mass of black chiton and blue-green eyes that steadily consumed all that it touched.
The dark cool air slowly began to get warmer, warmer, warmer still. It was starting to remind them of the Badlands now. Then, ever so slowly, the truth began to dawn on the leaders. The fearful chatter began as eyes flashed and emotion swept across their mental channels. This was not normal, and that could mean only one of two things. Either they were coming up against an incredibly gifted Unicorn mage, or Celestia’s Ghost had returned. The commanding Changelings prayed it was the former.
Chrysalis was annoyed, but hopeful, as one of her spies returned to report that the humans had gone, and, as such, she need not worry about their troublesome meddling again. However, she knew her enemy well. Hammer Strike would not abandon his castle and his people. No. The others might have returned, but he would have remained behind. He had to. She would not allow her revenge to be denied. Then, as she fumed, she detected the sudden fear percolating beneath the hive mind’s surface, and pinpointed it to the troops at the front gate. That kind of fear could only be engendered by one person. She smiled cruelly as she ordered over a thousand more of her warriors to the bridge. The fool had revealed himself from the beginning. Now, it was merely a matter of wearing him down. Even the great Hammer Strike couldn’t stand against a united hive alone. <Take him down. Kill him if you must. If you can control him, then so much the better. Just get rid of Celestia’s trump card.>
<Yes, my Queen,> her commanders responded.
<My Queen, we have lost three behemoths at the Gryphon compound. We think the Gryphon known as The Avatar of Winds has taken to the battlefield,> the hasty report sounded in her mind, before the presence was suddenly silenced. She knew what that meant.
She directed her mind towards that part of the hive, looking through the eyes of her troops. The sight of the Gryphon was a virtual tornado of blades as he struck from one drone to the next, cutting through the hardened chiton as though it were thin air. This would require some planning to get around. She ordered them to fall back for the moment and regroup. If the land and the air were not an option, then they would go lower. She sent the command to her tunnelers, even as she shifted back to the bridge.
With the prompt efficiency of one well versed with command, she ordered the forces to use the air to their advantage. A swarm of changelings stirring the air with their wings should help even the odds against the heat, and perhaps provide an opening to attack. In a matter of moments, she heard the buzzing of their wings. It was music to her ears, but would surely deafen those around the source.
One spark gone, and then another. Each time they drew close to the gate, another Changeling died. She looked up with her own eyes from her depression in the forest, where the bodies of seven timberwolves, three manticores, and two large spiders the size of shacks lay dead. Her crown had been repaired, and her daughter remained at her side as the two were surrounded by elite guards and caretakers. The young Changeling would learn much from this battle, and Chrysalis intended to teach her everything she knew.
<My daughter, you must know that it is inevitable that we will crush these ponies. With our superior numbers, and the capability to adapt to hostile conditions, it’s only a matter of time before we triumph. Then we can seek out, and crush, the rogue hive. A queen must always show strength and resolve, little one. Watch, and learn your lessons well.>
<Of course, Mother,> Chrysalis’s daughter chirped over the hive mind.
<Watch your mind, Pupa!> Chrysalis admonished. <A good princess is seen, and not heard. You’re not a queen yet. I’ve given you leniency due to the position that I am placing you in, but do not forget your place.>
Pupa nodded mutely as she lowered her head meekly.
Chrysalis chuckled as she looked into the hive mind to see the troops slipping into the chasm under the bridge. It seemed that the forces in Unity were slacking. Then again, perhaps they were simply too frightened to react properly. If they weren’t, they certainly would be by the time she and her troops were through with them.
Then the explosions started. In seconds, groups of tens and twenties of lings had gone dark. Many more soon followed. Had she not suppressed it, the fear in the hive mind would have been totally paralyzing. As it was, her troops were confused, and sending orders to her captains was more of a strain as they tried to force order. Behemoths, too, began dropping in startling numbers, and soon Chrysalis found herself having to order the troops back from New Unity. She had lost a hundred troops in ten minutes, and five hundred over the next half hour as the Changelings retreated to a range that seemed to keep the Equestrians’ weapons from being most effective.
She took stock of her forces. Only ninety five thousand remained. Five hundred of those had vanished from the tunneling exercises. After all the deaths she felt from the bottleneck, she wasn’t about to throw away any more. There must have been more tunnels and anti-Changeling contingencies under the castle. It was old, and maybe there were enchantments to prevent burrowers from undermining the walls.
She checked in on the diggers she’d ordered to burrow under the Gryphon Compound. The only thing she got in response, aside from a few bloody glimpses, was a single snarling face of a large white smooth-surfaced timberwolf holding a severed changeling head between its considerable jaws, but they were in, and that was all that mattered. She ordered two thousand changelings to head into the tunnels and flood the lower levels.
Pain. Pain and heat erupted from the drones swarming the tunnel as swirling fluids filled their eyes, burning and stinging all it touched. The entire two thousand died within minutes of entering the tunnel, while the drones outside found themselves pounced upon by the same snarling white head.
To Chrysalis’s horror, the wolf howled, and the timberwolf corpses nearby crackled as the wood moaned and shifted. The corpses rattled to their paws as twigs and wooden boughs snapped unnaturally into place. The sickly green of their eyes reignited into a glowing blue as they crouched, then pounced, and began loping in a jerkish motion to reach towards the battlefield. As she watched through her troops’ eyes, the white wolf broke apart with all the other timber wolves’ bodies as they burst through the forest line to create a virtual tornado of boughs and greenery. In a matter of seconds that seemed to last an eternity, the pieces reassembled into a giant timberwolf the size of a bull elephant. It growled before the host. Then she lost sight of it as it lashed with its mighty paws, shredding through the front line of Changelings.
She ordered one thousand of her troops to swarm the timberwolf and to start using their secretions to immobilize it. Then she turned her attention more fully over to where Celestia’s Ghost was, only to pause as she switched back to her drones on the other side of the bridge. All who tried to get to the bridge were snuffed out, most likely due to whatever new weapon was being used. However, through the eyes on this one drone, she looked up as she heard a strange sound. Fire was starting to rain from the sky. She switched to a scout hiding in a tree to look at the gatehouse, and found the bridge being bathed in a sheet of fire.
She quickly cast her mind across the hive network to take stock of the losses. She had ninety three thousand drones left. According to her troops, they had only taken out ten ponies and seven gryphons. That was far from optimal. How could such a small number of troops have taken out so many of her own? She growled her frustration as she contemplated their next move.
She got a ping from one of the captains she’d stationed at the boulevard leading from New Unity to the rest of Equestria, and she smiled maliciously. The captain and its troops had cut off any means of retreat or reinforcements. As she jumped to view through the ling’s mind, she chuckled as she saw an armored Luna and her contingent of troops.
<So,> she taunted over the hive, <this is what they call a relief column. Five hundred? What could they hope to do with such small numbers? We know their tactics. We know their techniques. What hope could they have to stop us? Still, if it’s a fight they want, then a fight they shall have.> She chuckled as she ordered five thousand drones to separate from the swarm and attack Luna from all sides. She would rue the day she and her followers stood against them at the wedding.
Pensword crouched the moment the light from Luna’s spell ceased. In the dark of the night, he could see the massing and swarming black mass that reminded him of an ant colony on the sidewalk.
He smiled as he heard his High Chieftess laugh. “Oh. It would seem Chrysalis sees me as a threat. What a wonderful battlefield present!” She raised Meteor Impact and yelled, “ATTACK, MY THESTRALS! A HUNDRED VAMPIRE FRUIT BATS TO THE WARRIOR WHO BRINGS ME THE SKULL OF A PRAETORIAN!” The five hundred launched forward, displaying the same manic expression as their leader. Their cries didn’t bring pause to the five thousand, but it didn’t matter to them. What mattered was overcoming this threat, and breaking through to New Unity.
Pensword charged with wings outstretched. Lunar Fang surged at his side. The pair appeared to be unarmed, and Chrysalis laughed at their foolishness, that is, until she saw what happened to the drones their wings brushed against. Suddenly, she found her troops were losing limbs. Then she felt them die.
Lunar Fang spoke up almost cheerfully after decapitating another Changeling. “That’s five,” she called.
“Well I just got seven.” Pensword grinned as he watched the drone fall. He sighted a Praetorian, and grinned. They both charged forward with a burst of speed that neither could have hoped for back on Earth. Pensword slashed through the chiton like a crossbow bolt through its target. Lunar Fang sliced another praetorian up its backside, peeling off the shiton like a cheese rind. They spun around in a dance of metal wings and hooves as they knocked back or killed intermittently. They soon were joined by warriors from the Dream Clan, who formed up to act as Pensword’s guard. “Make that eleven,” Pensword growled as he tied the praetorian’s head to his belt.
“I got thirteen,” Lunar Fang growled. The head of her prize bounced off her rump as she charged forward once again.
Meanwhile Luna was easily smashing three Changelings with each swing of her hammer.
“FORE!” Luna shouted as she swung at a changeling’s head. True to her warning, the head flew from the stump and careened into a neighbouring drone’s body in a cloud of green mist. Then the drone’s torso and the head both continued onwards, while the drone’s four legs remained where they had stood.
Unlike Celestia, who was almost always accompanied by an attachment of guards, Luna’s personal space was devoid of Thestrals, which proved to be a good thing as she swung her hammer with a nigh-reckless abandon, and with no signs of slowing down. Her magic seemed limitless as her horn glowed and synched with the hammer’s handle. She also used her sharpened horseshoes to kick and buck at any Changeling around her. As a direct result, the Pony princess was surrounded by a mass of green and black spots. Her ear flicked as she caught her Commander, and his wife keeping track. “We hath forty!” The words brought pride to the five hundred troops as they fought towards New Unity. They’d already moved forward by a yard.
Lunar Fang laughed. “I’m so happy there’s enough for all of us,” she crowed as she sliced another Changeling across its barrel. “Twenty!”
Pensword smirked. “Twenty one,” he countered as he smashed one Changeling with his metal wingblade. Even despite the damage incurred thus far, his blades still shone like new, and were sharp as a ray of moonlight.
They felt it and heard it as the behemoth rumbled forward, crushing trees, and creating its own path towards the group. They heard a yelp, and the sounds of battle intensified as the advance began to slow. Finally, the first warrior fell to the drones.
They had to make it. They had to prove that New Unity wouldn’t be alone in their hour of need. Luna growled as she mustered her magic, and shoved the Changelings away to give them time to regroup. Unfortunately for them, the Changelings regrouped in a matter of seconds.
Luna pushed her mind out to sense the extent of what they had to face. She was surprised to sense a mind the likes of which she had not touched in well over a millennium. She felt its fierce anger, recognized the desire to protect, to maintain territory, to fight to the last. She heard the song of the stars that spun within its pelt. A loud bellow of defiance washed over the forest and the combatants, only to be cut off with a sickening crack. Luna felt it, and heard as the stars in the heavens trembled and wept. She rocked on her hooves as the savage mind was tainted by fear, and then by sorrow and regret, before it finally disappeared. Only three Ponies on this battlefield had heard such a cry before, and lived to tell the tale, and Luna was one of them. Rage and indignation ignited within her at the Changelings’ audacity. It was one thing to kill an ursa major out of need. It was another entirely to kill the creature just to be cruel.
“Chrysalis will pay,” she vowed as her pupils transformed into slits. In an instant, three behemoths had been impaled by her hammer’s shaft. Their green blood hissed and burned as her magic rebelled against it, fueled by her righteous indignation. She recalled the hammer to her, and let loose a rallying cry. Her Thestrals responded in kind, fighting all the harder. They may not have understood the gravity of the situation, but the reaction of their High Chieftess was enough for them to understand the need to fight on.
Luna drew herself up, and then, in a rather unexpected turn of events, directed her magic not into her hammer, but into her own body. The blue aura glowed and sparked as its intensity slowly increased, even as the aura lessened, becoming more of a thin line, rather than the usual ethereal quality.
Chrysalis’ laughter echoed through battle as a behemoth approached. Its eyes glowed green as its sides continued to heave. “How does it feel, Princess, to have such losses, to face such a foe? I have killed an Ursa Major. I have proven that I am just as powerful as you. Do you really think that you can win when my Changelings outnumber you so completely?” The derisive laughter carried once again. “How ridiculously naive.”
Luna breathed heavily, and snorted as her magic continued to flow over her body. Other than that, there was no sign that she was even listening in the first place. This irked the Changeling queen. She wanted to see them struggle, watch the outrage after destroying something these pathetic fools held dear.
“I think the bear will do nicely as a rug over your grave.”
In an explosion of magic, Luna swelled to three times her size, her eyes ablaze with white light. Chrysalis instantly felt fifty of her drones snuffed out in an instant. Never had Ponies reacted this strongly or violently before. Even so far away, she was certain she could hear the rage-filled rant.
“YOU DARE TO INSULT MY TRIBE? YOU DARE BRING SHAME TO THE BEASTS THAT WE HUNT FOR OUR LIVES? YOUR TRIBE WILL DIE FOR THIS INSULT! WHEN I HUNTED, THE ENTIRE BEAR WAS USED. THE MEAT WAS SAVED FOR ALL THE TRIBES, THE BONES BECAME MY VERY ARMOR, THE FUR A SIGN OF MY STATION! YOU WOULD DARE TO TAKE SOMETHING SO SACRED, AND TURN IT INTO SOMETHING SO MUNDANE AS A THROW RUG? YOU WILL FEEL THE WRATH OF ALL THESTRALS AND THE MOON HERSELF!”
Luna put her mind out into the wild, and she found what she had feared. She sighed, and shook her head sadly as her magic began to weave around her armor.
Even in the heat of battle, Grif had, somehow, made out the sound of something dying. He hadn’t heard what got Luna so stirred up, but even as she spoke, something within him resonated with anger. To kill such a mighty beast without honor was wrong. The tornado around him increased in pressure. Changelings not careful enough to stay on the ground were torn to shreds around him as he hacked and slashed those nearby to pieces. While he couldn’t do the Royal Canterlot Voice, he found he could enhance his own volume by manipulating the air’s effect on the soundwaves. “AND THE AVATAR OF WINDS WELL REAP ANY WHO MAKE IT PAST YOU!” he swore.
Hammer Strike continued his slaughter as he thought to himself, noting the roar, the yelling, and the anger in the air. He was more focused on the battle in front of him, but he couldn’t help but mutter to himself. “Strike fear into them, and make them cower.”
Queen Chrysalis stood in the clearing. Eighty seven thousand five hundred drones stood back. Five hundred of those were trying different avenues of tunneling into the compound. She may not be able to breach New Unity that way, but it would give her a foothold in the stronghold near the Castle’s base, and that would suffice for a start. She ordered up some spin shooters, and took out three Gryphons from the compound wall, and six more ponies from the walls on New Unity. Luna was another fifteen minutes from reaching the outskirts of New Unity, and the troops were doing well to keep her distracted, but with this new burst of magic, it was unlikely that they would be able to stall for long. The wind was still blowing, and the fire was once more moving. Hammer Strike stood on the middle of the bridge now. She had ordered some of her drones to start building and fortifying her position to protect her daughter and herself.
As she watched and listened to her hive, she both saw and felt as Hammer Strike launched a great fireball into the air, which was promptly taken up by the wind, and spread like a great sheet through the air, raging through the trees, and roasting many of her Changelings, even as they sought an avenue of escape.
What had originally only destroyed a few drones and the occasional praetorian now devoured indiscriminately. Drones, praetorians, behemoths, all swallowed without mercy. Only scorched earth was left in the fiery tempest’s wake as the Everfree Forest lit up with orange and red. Trees burnt to ash or exploded when the moisture inside boiled too high. Several panicked cragodiles were forced from their homes, and fled in Chrysalis’ direction. Many of her elite drones were snapped up as the the monsters passed. Chrysalis’ magic blasts bounced uselessly off the creatures’ stone skin.
She had to stop herself from attacking, and erected a shield, instead. Yet again, she had been saved by Shining Armor’s spell. The monsters soon passed them by, but, in their haste, they had not noticed the precious treasure they left behind. She ordered a drone to pick up the cragodile scale and return it to their hive. It would prove useful to analyze its life force and overall genetic structure for future use. With this newest addition, they now had the venom of the giant spider, samples from the manticores of the Everfree, and even timberwolf samples, but the coup de grace had to be the ursa. While she couldn’t skin it, she had been able to pluck some fur, and draw a few blood samples to return to her hive with. With enough time, there would be some very interesting options for her to utilize in the makeup of her future children.
She looked expectantly towards the castle walls, and chuckled to herself. Her hive had achieved samples that no other Changeling queen had ever found, and she would use that to her advantage. Switching to one of her camouflaged units, she watched as Hammer Strike continued his steady advance. She knew the cost would be great, but sacrificing drones to draw Hammer Strike away from the castle was the only viable strategy at this point. While he was distracted, she would be able to target the weaker rear, and break through the shield that mage had dared to erect in the first place. She was doubtless exhausted by now. The poor dear. Chrysalis couldn’t wait to put her out of her misery.
She sighed as she felt yet more lives being lost. No matter. She would soon have what she wanted.
Silver Spear carefully examined the troops on the wall as they scanned the forest line. The battle had waged on for several hours with few, if any, reprieves. At this rate, they would run out of ammunition in another hour. The trees were knocked down, burned black, or otherwise pushed back from the normal line by about another sixty feet. He nodded to the defenders before turning to address some of the recruits below.
“Okay.” He looked to the three Gryphon Slayers that had organized the cadets. Moon Biter, Animal Control, and Whistle Clean each gave him a stern salute, which he returned in kind. How strange it was to be in a position of command, when he had started out so rough. Yet now, here he stood, fighting side by side with his fellow recruits nearly two years later. Before he could begin, he heard the rumbles of the ground as Big Guns made his way towards them, and stood at the back with his war ax at the ready.
Silver Spear nodded to Big Guns before finally beginning his address. “I want us to gear up in the best armor Lord Hammer Strike has for us. Like it or not, we have to take this battle to the Changelings. We can’t take shelter in these walls forever, not with our ammunition running so low. As such, we are going to lead a charge to break through the enemy’s ranks, and reach Princess Luna and her forces. Once we meet up, we will perform a tactical retreat back to the castle walls, and from there, we’ll start using hit-and-run tactics with Princess Luna leading the charges.” He levitated his plan scroll, and perused the specifics of the notes he’d taken from the council meeting on the strategy. “We move out in an hour. Hammer Strike has engaged the enemy to provide us the window of opportunity we need. We’ll be leaving by way of a side gate a pair of our mages will transmute from the stone. Clover the Clever will only be able to give us a brief opening, so we’ll need to be quick. Have I made myself clear?”
The soldiers saluted, but they didn’t say a word. The shield was working to keep the Changelings out for now, and, for the moment, no spies could see into the castle. That gave them the element of surprise. They knew the price, if they failed.
“Right, then. Fall out. We meet up in forty five minutes at the side gate.”
The raging fires in the forest were visible, even from Ponyville, and while Granny Smith, Applejack, Applebloom, and Big Mac fled to the town from their farm, the town itself was busy preparing fire brigades and volunteers to head towards the forest.
As the flower sisters all cried about it being the end of the world, and the horror that was coming, other citizens were busy getting water ready for transport, filling buckets, and placing them in spare carts. Button Mash had emerged with what looked like a model of Hammer Strike’s pistol, only this one shot water when he pulled the trigger. Filthy Rich was busy giving orders, while Diamond Tiara and her mother held closely to one another. Mayor Mare was hard at work overseeing the filling of each cart as various stallions and mares hitched up to the wagons to prepare for the trek.
Suddenly, a blinding flash of light filled the sky, and everypony stopped their work to gaze up in wonder as Celestia slowly descended with a white Unicorn at her side.
“Citizens of Ponyville. While your desire to assist your neighbors is admirable, I must insist that you cease and desist immediately. That fire is not of natural origins, and you are vastly underprepared for the dangers that await within the Everfree. Hammer Strike, Pensword, and Grif will be able to handle it on their own. You need not fear. However, I must ask that, until the time that things settle down again, you remain within your houses for your own protection.”
While those around the Princess began to head to their homes, others still moved the wagons towards the edge of town, just in case the fires got that far. Others were still gathered around the library.
“Um, Celestia?”
“Yes, Vital Spark?” Celestia asked as she turned to him.
“You think we should maybe talk to the girls?”
“You mean Twilight?”
He nodded.
“Vital Spark, Twilight is a responsible mare. I doubt she would think to do something so foolish as–”
“Princess Celestia!” Twilight raced up and smiled. Her focus was floating beside her. “Were you about to go to New Unity, too?”
“I may not have been around as long as you, Celestia, but I’m pretty sure even you should have foreseen she’d want to go,” Vital Spark said pointedly.
“Vital Spark? What’re you doing back? I thought you went to Earth with Shawn and the others.”
“I . . . had an accident,” he said with a hasty blush.
“Hammer Strike’s not going to be happy about this.”
“He already knows.”
“So they’re all back?”
Vital Spark nodded.
“And you’re not going anywhere near that battlefield, young lady,” Celestia said seriously. “And neither are your friends. None of you has enough experience.”
“I’m not going to just stand by when my friends’ lives are at stake!”
“That is exactly what you are going to do, Twilight,” Celestia said. Her voice was stern, and unyielding. “You’re not ready yet.”
“Yes, I am!”
“No, you’re not. Has Clover told you that you are yet?”
“This is an exception! The circumstances have changed!”
“Not enough to justify putting your life in danger.”
“I can handle it!”
“No, Twilight, you can’t.”
“Yes, I can!” she insisted. “We can!”
Celestia sighed. “Twilight, would you be willing to accept a compromise?”
“. . . I’m listening.”
“If you can manage to land three hits on me in a row without me hitting you back, then I will acknowledge that you are skilled enough to go into battle, and join Hammer Strike.”
“Deal.”
Vital Spark shook his head. “Oh, you poor, naive soul,” he muttered.
The battle was going, and going poorly. Only fifty more Changelings had fallen, when compared to another two Gryphons and fifty Ponies. However, Luna and her four hundred fifty troops had arrived in a scorched region that Pensword recognized, and he was more than angry. The lodge that the Thestrals had built, with the signs of a wall half completed, was little more than a charred ruin. Changelings continued to stream towards them, even as Pensword took out another three with his bow.
He growled as he looked around. With the swarm circling around them, they had little choice but to take shelter and make a stand. The castle walls had been effectively cut off. They did their best to avoid the attacks as they did their best to cover all the entrances. The Changelings hissed in predatory lust. Their targets were trapped. Now they could take their time.
Taking advantage of the distraction, the troops in the fortress poured out from the castle wall as the combined magics of a pair of mages and their foci opened the way. Silver Spear and his soldiers poured out, slamming into Chrysalis’ forces from the rear, dividing and disorienting the drones as they took out their captains. Without a commander to guide them, the Changelings became little more than feral creatures, making it all the easier to target and take them out, opening a path for Luna and her Thestrals to retreat into the fortress.
Regrettably, five rookies fell in the attack, thanks to three Changelings who had enough presence of mind, or perhaps enough obedience to command, to disguise themselves in the chaos. The three were swiftly subdued, before the signal was given, and they passed back into the safety of the castle’s walls. The relief column were swift to tend to the wounded and their weapons.
The sound of heavy hooves pounded the cobblestones as a lieutenant raced to the commander’s side. “Commander Pensword, Sir, you’re needed at the front gate. Hammer Strike’s been drawn away from the castle, and the enemy’s come with a white flag for negotiations.”
“They’ve pulled back!” one of the recruits shouted in confirmation. “Delegation approaching from the forest borders!”
Pensword looked to Lunar Fang, who nodded as she moved to help resupply the troops. Fox Feather fought her way through the crowd as she tried to push the nurses aside. Her left wing was missing several feathers, and a makeshift splint had been made to keep her from moving the joint. Pensword winced when he saw her. “Not as bad as it looks.”
“Right,” Pensword responded drly. They ascended the stairs together and looked down from the parapet at the Changeling drone. It stood on the middle of the bridge. A white cloth had been tied to its horn.
As they watched the Changeling opened its mouth and Chrysalis's voice called out. “I have peace terms to give, if you are listening.”
“Oh, we’re listening, Chrysalis,” Hammer Strike said as he approached from behind, and stuck the point of one of his daggers against the drone’s neck. He chuckled. “Speak quickly, or my dagger just might accidentally slip.”
Pensword’s left ear twitched, he could hear fighting from the Gryphon compound. It seemed that she was using this time to push more of her drones upon the compound.
“Well, Speak!” Pensword roared.
Chrysalis chuckled. “Oh, I shall. I only wish for two things, and you and your ponies can leave this land peacefully, and return in a month.” Her voice echoed with a sense of self-satisfied smugness and superiority. “Just hand over Lord Hammer Strike, here, and the rogue hive which you harbor. Do this, and you and yours will be allowed to march out with your colors and your weapons intact. As I said before, after a month, you may return to this place, and settle it once more. My qualm is not with you or your soldiers, at least not this day.”
“Nuts to you!” Pensword roared.
An arrow alighted from the Bladefeather compound, blazing brightly in the evening air. In a matter of seconds, the white flag on the Changeling’s horn had been reduced to cinders.
“VICTORY OR DEATH!” the Gryphons shouted together.
Pensword snorted in rage. “I wish they hit their supplies,” he muttered. Then he raised his voice. “Under the laws of combat etiquette, you have ten seconds to return to your lines before we kill your drone.”
The drone only laughed as he tried to bite Hammer Strike. Not only was the mouth burned from the heat radiating off of Hammer Strike’s hide, but the fangs shattered on him, before the creature was impaled by two spears thrown by Pensword from the wall. The bushes rustled angrily as the Changelings prepared to charge again. Hammer Strike glared back into the forest.
“Prepare the troops. We will have to face them forward.” Pensword moved towards the courtyard as Princess Luna began to gather her magic once again. He couldn’t help but wonder if she was going to try something as dangerous and deadly as Celestia’s solar spire. “We need all the help we can get,” he muttered to himself. He paused as he saw one of the maids wearing armor, and the painted emblem of Hammer Strike; however, what really caught his attention was her unique cutie mark, an exact replica of his own.
“I would like to speak to your mother, young lady. This is no place for you,” he growled, then smirked happily as the maid’s form shifted to that of one of Me-Me’s children.
The Changeling’s eyes lit dimly as Me-Me’s voice filtered through her open mouth. “Pensword, whats going on? We’ve been trying to find you.”
“I got teleported to the edge of the forest, and waged a war. We only just got into the castle, and took care of a ‘generous’ offer to surrender.” He frowned. “Why have you been looking for me?” They’d moved to the edge to be out of the way as more soldiers marshalled in the courtyard to reinforce Luna’s troops. Thirty of the remaining number were no longer fit for duty, or had been called to use their night vision to aid in maintaining the defenses.
“I have two hundred war drones ready, but they are bred to follow your command structure. They couldn’t be deployed without your say-so.”
Pensword paused. “How am I going to command drones? I don’t have runners to control or command them. And are they going to be free enough to react to fluid changes on the battlefield?” He sighed. “All the same, we could use all the help we can get. You may tell them that they have my permission.”
“I don’t suppress my children’s free will. You should know better than that. Confusion is the enemy on a battlefield. Best to have one command structure than have to memorize a new one during a battle. As for how you command them, Preston has your answer for that. I’m sorry. I have to go. We need to make sure the second egg chamber’s been sealed properly, in case the worst should come to pass.”
Pensword watched the glow fade from the Changeling’s eyes. “Hmm. Not all Changeling queens get stuck,” he muttered as he quickly made his way to the command room. On the way, Preston showed up, and hastily greeted him. Pensword reacted in kind. “Good to see you again, Preston. I was told you have an answer for how I am going to command the Changeling drones? They got the word to start, and will be joining this assault.”
“My Queen’s been thinking on this for a while,” Preston said as he ushered Pensword to his desk, and slid open a hidden drawer. “It’s taken a while for her to be sure you wouldn’t be stuck with the hive song distracting you.” He pulled out a case made of chitin, and opened it to reveal a simple silver circlet with a glowing green stone mounted midst the simple engraving at the front.
Pensword looked at the circlet. “This will allow me to command those troops, and get them to move?” he asked as he touched the circlet. “The hive song. . . .” He muttered hesitantly. “Matthew is freaking out about this, but this is war, and I humbly accept this tool for communication.” He carried the accessory with him as he made his way to the door. “Right. I’d better get to the war room. Make sure the drones wear their beacons. That way I can see them on the battle map, and it will show some of the magic of what is happening around them.” It would only be symbols and icons, but it was more than the old model had given him. Now he’d have more real time information to use in the fight. It wasn’t three dimensional tech just yet, but they’d get there eventually. When he’d received the affirmative from Preston, he pulled the circlet on his head.
At first there was a kind of static white noise at the back of Pensword’s mind, and then, with a small pop, a gentle humming began. It reminded Matthew of an old TV or computer warming up. To Pensword, it was a new experience, and he was prepped for anything to happen next. He braced himself for the song, ready to tear the circlet off the moment even a hint of it began to manifest, but, so far, things were going well.
<Commander is on!>a voice seemed to reverberate through the humming. Despite the strange tingling sensation, Pensword found it wasn’t unpleasant. <Confirm deployment of soldiers?>
It took a few attempts for Pensword to get it right, but he finally figured out how to broadcast his thoughts through the gem, and into the network. <Confirmation Green. Report to Princess Luna. I want all two hundred to stick together, and watch your backs.> With that said, he reached the war room, and happily noticed the new markers appearing on the map.
“Where did these two hundred come from?” one of the mages asked, surprised as the Changelings joined the rest of the troops.
“I don’t know. Is this a glitch?” Another asked. “Find out, immediately.”
“Negative!” Pensword shouted.
“COMMANDER ON DECK!” one of the recruits barked as he snapped to attention.
“Get back to work,” Pensword snapped, turning his head to face the pony that spoke. “This is a war. We don’t have time for formalities.”
“Of . . . of course, Sir.” The pony quickly shied away from the Commander, and returned to his post.
“Right. Those two hundred are troops sent from House Everfree, the first house to swear allegiance under Lord Hammer Strike in this day and age. I will be designating them group orange.” He broke off from his conversation, and returned to his hive link. <Attention Changelings. This is Commander Pensword speaking over all channels. You are all to take micro orders from the leaders around you, and will take over all goals from my command. Is that understood?> Pensword asked.
<Confirmed, Commander. Long live the hive. May it be forever free,> the leader responded. With that, the voice went silent.
<Roger that. Keep me apprised. Let me know when you meet the enemy, and be sure to keep your battle buddies alive.> He looked back at the guards monitoring the field. “How long till the troops are ready to leave the nest, and attack into the forest.”
“Another ten minutes,” an aide called out.
“Then we wait.”
Grif landed in front of the Bladefather compound, staggering slightly as he hit the ground. He was exhausted and bloody, and, behind him, there was a large track of upturned, and, in some cases, scorched ground. The last embers from the firestorm that came from his and Hammer Strike’s combined magic swirled around him. With the last of the mana he could grasp, he took hold of each, covering them in a ball of air, and then a shell of compressed air. He waved his talons, and they scattered like missiles. Each found the tunnel mouths from Chrysalis’s attempts to enter the compound. They flew into them, following the flow of air down into the earth, until the inner air was consumed, and the spark dug into the compressed mana-laden air around it.
The ground shook behind Grif as several small detonations rumbled beneath, collapsing chrysalis’s tunnels. It wasn’t the safest way to seal them, but it was the fastest, and he didn’t have the strength to fight off more at the moment. The gate opened before Grif as two warriors ran out, and immediately extended their wings to offer their leader support. Without a word, they led him inside the compound through a crowd of soldiers that parted reverently as they passed into the clan building. With some work, they opened the sanctuary, and let the clan lord enter. Tired, but determined, Grif scanned the room carefully, until he caught sight of Kalima, and made his way towards her.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I tried my hardest to get here. It’s a mess out there. Is she okay? Are the girls okay?”
“They’re just fine, Grif.” Kalima smiled kindly, then smirked. “All four of them.”
“Avalon hasn’t tried any spells, I hope?” Grif said. “Please, take me to them.”
“The birthing was a little hard on her, Grif. The first one always is. She’s nursing the babies now, so be gentle,” Kalima cautioned as the guard on Gryphonesses parted to let their clan leader and the old one through. There, lying on a makeshift nest with two suckling puffballs of fur and thin, downy feathers, was Shrial. Avalon kept watch over the three, and the new mother smiled beatifically as she cooed and chirped over her new babies.
Grif felt tears roll out of his eyes as he approached. Happiness and grief warred inside him as he approached her.
“I’m so sorry, my heart,” he warbled to her in old Gryphic. “I should not have missed this.”
Shrial smiled, and raised a hand to brush his cheek.
“None of that. I’m too tired to knock some sense into you right now. Come say hello to our girls.”
Grif approached to two balls of fur, and laid down slowly. He could already see that one of them would have Shrial’s red plumage and fur. The other one was darker, not quite his black, but a much darker red than her mother or twin sister. He ever-so-carefully reached out, and stroked her back between the tiny vestigial wings. “Redder than the rose, redder than wine, and redder than blood. You’ll walk happily through nature's beauty by morning, slaughter your enemies in the afternoon, and drink of their stores in the night. Be wise, daughter, and be strong. I name you Athena. Bear it well.”
He looked to Shrial, and with a note, he stroked the other one with his other hand. “A name as misleading as you want it to be. You will feed death to the enemies of your sister during the day, and shelter the cubs beneath your wings at night. Be kind, but be fierce. I name you Gentle Wing. Bear it well. Bear these names well, my daughters, and know my love will never leave you.”
The two cubs let off suckling from their mother briefly to let out tired yawns with the cutest little squeaks a babe could make, before returning to the urgent need for food. Shrial winced slightly.
“The first latch always hurts,” she said as she slowly released the tension in her body after the initial pain had passed.
“Today, my heart, you have given me a gift beyond all value,” Grif said to Shrial as he nuzzled her gently. “My gratitude is unending. I only hope I will be a worthy father. Keep them safe, and we shall do this properly after the threat is dealt with.”
“With you here, I’m certain those parasites won’t stand a chance,” Avalon said with a smirk.
“Even I am mortal, Avalon. I need rest and food. I have killed many, but there are still many more, and I fear the next hours will be a mess.” He kissed Shrial, then Avalon, gently. “But for now, I need to go find a meal and a bed. Be safe, pieces of my heart.” And with that, Grif let himself out.
“So when are you going to pull Hammer Strike off the front line?” one of the Thestrals asked as he looked over the map.
“When he gets tired,” Pensword responded. “Trying to tell him to come rest is the same as trying to tell a manticore to follow commands.”
One of the tacticians raised a wing.
“I know he does that with El Fluffy, which proves my point. Hammer Strike does what Hammer Strike wants in battle.” He looked at the map as another fifty Changelings tried to surround Hammer Strike’s symbol.
He moved a wing to touch the Circlet. In the last day, the two hundred drones he’d commanded had been whittled down to nothing. Even when he offered to keep them off the front line, they insisted on attacking. It felt strange feeling each mind drop. He had gotten used to knowing they were there for updates and reports, but the connection was an odd one, and felt strangely intimate. He looked at the map. The good news was he knew where the general direction of the enemy hive was coming from. He made a choice to not look at the losses during the battle. The shield was being held by Luna while Clover rested and recovered her mana.
“Get Captain Silver Spear’s teams together. We need to make a push to this area here,” he said pointing towards a clearing in the woods. “Hopefully, getting a shot there will bring less pressure on the Bladefeather compound, allowing them to get out of the gates.” He hastily wrote something down on a scroll, then rolled it up and shoved it at one of the Thestrals. “Get this scroll to Hammer Strike. It’s time to have him start pushing further. We can keep the area clear. We need to press the attack.”
Pensword looked up as he heard a voice clearing at the table. “Yes, Trixie? Do you have your release from Clover?”
“Trixie does. She is on . . . shield duty.” She sighed heavily.
“Good. Speak to Luna, and she’ll help you with the matrix. That shield is the only thing keeping ol’ Sticky Spit from swarming the walls and airspace. If that dome goes, we all go with it.”
Trixie looked very nervous then. “Clover must trust Trixie very much to have Trixie with Princess Luna.”
“That she does. Thank you for your help. That gives us three high level spell users that can power the shield.” He waited for a few moments while Trixie stood there. “You’re dismissed, Trixie. Get to the princess now.”
“Ye–yes, Commander Hurr–Pensword.” Trixie turned and galloped away.
Pensword looked at the retreating figure. “No one has ever called me by my adopted house’s name.” He frowned. “Aide Preston, make sure that Trixie does not make that mistake again. I do not go by Commander Hurricane.” He turned his head, unsure. He felt like somepony was nearby, but he couldn’t see them.
The fifty Changelings rustled around the underbrush, underbrush that Hammer Strike had continued to clear and burn away to allow less hiding spaces. Chrysalis’ voice rang out from one of the fifty. “So, you enjoy burning my drones. I must say, you have done worse than I had thought. I anticipated losing more drones to you and your forces already. Do you know how many I brought from the start? One hundred thousand. You now only face approximately eighty thousand, and that is after suffering severe losses, and exhausting your key players.” She paused for a second. “So, what are you going to do now?” She laughed. “You’ve lost . . . how many troops now? How long till you put on the old cripples or the children to fight? All you have to do is lay your life down for me, and you can save all you care for. What about your friends? Your Fiance? I could send ten thousand of my forces, and, in a single night, they could cart away the entire town of Ponyville, and you can’t do a single thing to stop it.”
“At least we have willing soldiers, and at least I don’t have to hide behind my troops, unlike a certain someone I could name.” Hammer Strike chuckled darkly. “I mean, hey, if that’s your thing, that’s your thing.”
“Why should I, a Changeling queen, wade into the battlefield, when I have all these drones willing to push you back? I don’t have to dirty my hooves at all this time.”
“No, no, you don’t have to come out here. After all, a leader like you should probably stay in the back.”
“Finally, something we can agree on,” she responded with venom in her voice as all fifty tensed, flapping their wings to form a loud, angry buzz.”
“I just figured you were an actual threat, but I seem to be mistaken.”
“I learned from the last two times.”
“Obviously, you didn’t, if you’re here again.” Hammer Strike’s mouth twitched before pulling up into a malevolent grin.
The fifty charged. Hammer Strike didn’t move.
The fifty got closer. Hammer Strike yawned, uninterested.
The fifty nearly made it. Then Hammer Strike sneezed, and a wave of fire shot out from his body, turning anything that entered its radius to ash instantly.
“Gah, ash,” he muttered as he rubbed his nose.
A few moments later, a Thestral flapped in, sending said substance all over the place. “Missive from Command. We may have found the enemy’s base of operations.” The thestral handed over the scroll.
“Ooh, I was looking for some good news. Let’s see what you got,” Hammer Strike replied as he opened the scroll.
Hammer Strike looked up, and turned a quarter turn to the left, looking deeper into the Everfree Forest, and away from Ponyville. That was the direction of the base. He was facing where Chrysalis was hiding, and the angry hissing he heard sounding through the forest only proved his suspicions. He casually threw a dagger at a tree trunk, impaling one of the stealth units. He then proceeded to retrieve his dagger, and began his advance.
He chuckled once more. “This is gonna be grand.”
Trixie stood in the courtyard, where cushions, food trays, and other items lay scattered around. Clover the Clever and Princess Luna stood there together, eying the mare.
“Trixie is ready to learn,” Trixie said.
“I’ve been doing some careful work on this, Trixie. I’ve had to alter the magical field to take advantage of your rather . . . unique magical properties,” Clover said. “To begin. . . .” She proceeded to slowly explain the shield’s magical formula.
Trixie was shocked and humbled that she was going to become a key to the defense of this dome, at least once she found out just how much effort and skill had to go into its weaving. She listened intently, and soon her horn was alight with her magic. It began to glow, and the dome slowly shifted color as Princess Luna lowered her own contributions. It was a tense hoof over as drones buzzed around in hopes of getting through the barrier. Clover gave a curious look when she noticed every once in awhile a darker bolt of magical energy shot out from the shield and speared a changeling, causing the body to shrivel, and then crumble to dust. That was not part of the formula. Clearly, she’d need to research this later.
“Trixie has this. You two had better join the battle. We are all getting tired.”
Clover smiled up at Luna as she swept her focus in her magic. “I couldn’t help but notice you're still using your old potato masher,” she said as they turned to the gate. An eerie fire lit behind Clover’s eyes.
“And you still prefer your fancy stick,” Luna shot back. “There is plenty for both of us.”
“Yes, there is.” Clover nodded as the two seemed to phase through the gate completely. The metal latticework of the portcullis passed through their bodies like they were immaterial. “Shall we say first to a thousand?”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know the old mare was too tired to really go all out.”
“Oh, Luna, it is ON!” And with savage war cries, the two mares charged the Changelings with all the ferocity of twin manticores.
Pensword watched the two charge into battle, a sad smile on his muzzle, his wings twitching in longing to join. But he knew his place. He had to remain to guide the other troops. “Have fun, you two,” he whispered. “Kill a few hundred for me.” He doubted they would hear him, but his break was over, and he was needed back in the war room.
Silver Spear looked at the troops, and forced his stomach to settle. There wasn’t time for nerves. These troops needed a leader as the last vanguard against the Changelings. The background noise from their wings made them more than a little jumpy. It didn’t help that they still had tens of thousands of troops to overcome. He looked to one of the ponies with a dragon fire lantern. They were trying to coordinate with the Gryphon Compound to create a pincer movement, but it would be a difficult move without careful planning on both sides. He took another deep breath. “Troops, prepare for another charge.” He could hear Clover and Luna still battling outside. They would join the fight, but give the two mages a wide berth.
“Sir, you're still wounded from the last charge,” one of the soldiers noted. “Shouldn’t someone else be leading?”
“Who else do we have?” He motioned towards the recovering forms of the Demon Slayers. The Gryphons all had fresh wounds that seeped and slowly dried. Their armor was dented and smudged with the green ooze that passed for Changeling blood. “We need to give them more room to breathe.” He smirked. “Besides. If we push hard enough, we just might be able to confront the queen.”
“Black Rook?”
“Under sedation in the Gryphon Compound. It was the only way Little Willow could drag him off the field. He’ll make it, but he won’t be fighting for another month.”
“Perhaps Princess Luna could be asked to head the charge? Or maybe Big Guns? He certainly seems to have enjoyed the last few bouts.”
A Thestral broke ranks to reply. “Princess Luna needs at least a three hammer circle around her clear of any allies. Big Guns is busy smashing bugs to the south with the Demos, Heavies, and Bladefeather backup.” She turned and bowed to Silver Spear. “My apologies, Captain.”
“Forget about it. You knew the intel, and you shared it.” He looked at the others. “Do you want Commander Pensword to lead the charge? Or Lunar Fang? Fox Feather is being held back now because of a broken leg and a sprained wing. And thanks to those flying monstrosities, no offense to our Changeling allies, she’s lost most of her feathers, so she’s grounded. Do you want us to lose the commander, too? If he steps back out on the field, he’ll be swarmed, and either captured or killed. What would that do for our morale? And worse yet, think of what would happen to us for letting him fall.” Silver Spear shuddered. “Hammer Strike and Grif would likely take exception to that.”
A collective shudder of horror ran through the ranks.
“I was just noting, Sir. The healers said you needed to wait until they're sure the skin’s sealed properly, or your wound could open again.”
“I’ve already gotten permission. We have to attack to keep the rest of New Unity safe. We’re all wounded to varying degrees. I’m not about to stop just because of a few cuts. I’ve got a few healing spells and talismans. That’ll get me through the charge. Now stop worrying about me, and start worrying about protecting our families. We need to provide an avenue for the rest of the troops to reach Chrysalis’ base and draw her out. We’re going to punch through her troops, and make as much noise as possible. Is that clear?”
“Sir, yes, Sir!” the group responded.
“We wait for the Gryphons’ signal, and then we charge.”
From a protected area of the wall Pensword looked down and nodded his head to the troops. He raised a wing in a mixture of salute and benediction on the crowd. No words were spoken as they waited for the attack to be called.
Finally, after what seemed like hours, a hail of flaming arrows shot from the Bladefeather compound into the Changelings. The gates shot open with the howl of swirling wind, and Gryphons charged out, shrieking as they fell upon the enemy with Grif at their head.
The front gates rolled up, and the soldiers, including the small group of Arabian stallions, charged into the mass of black chitin. A war cry sounded as the clash of metal and swords on toughened armor rang through the skies.
The Changelings didn’t flinch. The Changelings didn’t care. It wasn’t their purpose to care. It was their purpose to fight for their queen, and fight they would, according to her orders and will.
Initially the charges seemed to be working. The Gryphon forces cut through the swarm like locusts through a field, and the forces from New Unity were spiking forward towards the point where both armies would meet, but the initial momentum began to wane as the Changelings doubled their charge. The larger Gryphon soldiers used their battle axes and great spears to cut through Changelings like chaff blown by the wind, but where one fell, ten more would rise in its place.
Silver spear quickly found his troops cut off from the main charge, and surrounded on all sides. Oddly, the Saddle Arabians appeared to be faring the best. Their curved falchions and scimitars seemed to be ideal for cutting down the hordes of enemies.
Even with his troops cut off, Silver Spear maintained composure and command, rallying them to form into defensive positions. Up on the castle wall, Pensword watched as the attack continued. He got the impression of watching white blood cells attacking an infection, and foreign bodies. Unfortunately, this particular strain was virulent, and the white blood cells would likely be overwhelmed, if something were not done soon.
He ground his teeth as he fought against the urge to join the battle. The Changelings had circled round to cut off any hopes of an escape route. The bridge, the compound, the gatehouse, all no longer viable. Silver Spear’s copper coat shone defiantly as it reflected the moon beneath his armor, but he appeared to be slowing. Pensword frowned. He’d been through enough action to know what that meant. He grit his teeth as he struggled with his conscience. To go out and join the fray might provide a distraction. He had been the one to disrupt the hive in the first place, when he used the crossbow bolt, and he had been a hunter of Changelings when the war had ended in the first place. They would not have forgotten that. At the same time, without his command, the defenses might fall apart. There just weren’t enough trained personnel left. He slammed his forehoof on the stone in frustration, and for the first time in a very long time, he swore. “Damn it.”
Silver Spear fought like a lion, with spells blazing from his focus as he struck at his enemies. The silver spear tip had been thoroughly coated in the thick green substance that was the Changelings’ insides. But like it or not, he knew he couldn’t keep this up forever. He felt the blood trickling from the wounds as they opened again, but did his best to pay them no mind. Taze had mentioned a death like this once. An ancient civilization’s method of execution. If he recalled correctly, it had been called death by a thousand cuts. How ironic that he could be facing such a death soon. He chuckled, even as he thrust his focus through another Changeling’s head with a loud crunch.
Shield spells helped to guard his rear, but he was careful not to use them too often, and only in key portions of his body. To hold up such a spell for too long would only drain his reserves faster. Suddenly, he felt something tackle him from behind. He stumbled, and a general outcry sounded from behind as the Changelings’ ferocity intensified. In a matter of moments, he had been completely cut off from his troops, and the gap was growing.
“Stick to the plan!” he roared. “Join Grif and his warriors! Go!”
These Changelings may well take him down, but he’d kill as many as he could, before they did. His troops wavered a few moments in indecision, but, at last, they honored his last command. He smiled as he saw them join with the Gryphons from the compound, even as he decapitated another three Changelings. As the swarm added more to their focus on him, the column faded from sight. It didn’t matter, though. They had made it. They had a chance. He’d fulfilled his duty, and brought true honor to his house’s name. He laughed, despite himself, as he returned to his work. His magic reserves were practically depleted. He could feel the shield spells weakening. It was only a matter of time now.
He felt the weight increase on his back, and knew that they had sensed his weakness. He bucked, dislodging his unwelcome passenger, but more came to take the drone’s place. He was too weak to magic them off, and he panted heavily as he clung to his focus. Still, he fought on, even as his blows grew weaker and weaker. His legs felt like jelly. The weight on his back increased as more Changelings dove and piled on, doing their best to immobilize him. Something thick and wet slapped onto his horn, causing his neck to strain. A green gob of Changeling mucus dripped into sight, and he knew his time was short.
Then he heard and felt as his protective spells shattered, and Changeling fangs pierced the flesh on his neck. At the same time, he felt a horn pierce his side. He coughed, and his eyes widened as the shock began to set in. His focus clattered to the ground, and his body soon followed. He heard a muffled cry, followed by a crack and a crunch, but whether it was his own armor or something else, he couldn’t tell as his senses dulled. He reached up weakly at a drone with narrowed, glowing green eyes, barely even touching its muzzle as the world swam around him. Finally, the blackness began to seep in.
“I’m . . . sorry, everypony,” he gasped as he fell into the abyss, and color was slowly ripped away. He could do no more. His time on Equis was done. He hoped that Faust would have mercy on him, and that his family would be able to deal with the loss. Disappointment or not, Silver Spear had fought to protect the ones he loved, and that included Baron Sharp Spear. “Father,” he whispered as a final farewell. Then he let go.
Somewhere off in Canterlot, Baron Sharp Spear stiffened, and his body shuddered. A single tear rolled inexplicably down his cheek. He swiftly wiped it away as he stared moodily into the flames. He fiddled with his hooves, then tried smoking his pipe, only to feel more restless as the hours passed. He snarled in aggravation as he hurled the pipe into the fireplace, and stomped to his hooves.
“Silver Bell!” he shouted.
The timid maid trotted meekly into the room. “Yes, m’lord?”
“Pack my things. I’m going on a journey.”
“Where to, m’lord?”
“New Unity.” He narrowed his eyes. “There are some things I need to make sure have been properly settled.”
Twilight panted from her place on the field as sweat poured down her flanks. A series of minor cuts and bruises had formed over the last few days of fighting. For a mare that had been out of practice for so long, Celestia had proved incredibly inventive in blocking and evading Twilight’s strikes. First it was the test of defense. A few flicks, a casual blow there, just to see what she was up against. Then the fight came in earnest. Well, it did for Twilight. Celestia was too busy drinking tea, and reading Equestria Daily. Even as Twilight rained blow after blow, Celestia blocked with her sword with practiced ease. She’d even gone so far as to flick it in just the right way to blind the new princess before knocking her on the head with the hilt.
The next game to come was the game of teleports as Twilight tried to throw Celestia off with multiple angle strikes. Celestia simply countered this as she went through her appointed yoga session. A mare had to work off her stress somehow, after all, and the meditation proved wondrous for her overall health and well being. When Twilight had managed to get past the sword’s guard, Celestia simply rose to balance on a single hind leg as she brought her forehooves together. In one smooth motion, she’d grabbed Twilight’s focus with both hooves, and used the momentum of the strike to fling Twilight all the way up and over the battlements and through the clouds.
“Namaste,” Celestia sighed.
Ever the glutton for punishment, Twilight had continued her assaults and tests, even as Celestia enjoyed her tea, cake, and other assortment of relaxation techniques. After another bout, Twilight growled in frustration as she slid back on the turf. The gems on her focus glowed like stars as she channeled her magic into them. Then she sighed and slowly lowered the tip in the universal signal for a respite, as the rules of combat allow, granted the opposing party is willing to give their consent. Celestia nodded in approval, and Twilight promptly collapsed.
“Tea?” Celestia offered as she levitated a cup.
“Thanks,” Twilight said begrudgingly as she took the cup, and drank its contents.
“You know, Twilight, I’m impressed. Your form is actually very good for a mare your age. Why, I’d even wager you could give your brother a run for his money, and that’s saying something, believe you me. Cake?” She levitated a piece of the revolutionary death by chocolate. Twilight took it in her magical aura, and then levitated a fork to take a bite.
“Then why can’t I hit you?”
“Twilight, you’ve only had about a year’s worth of experience, if that. And even though you’ve been trained by Clover, that doesn’t mean you’re able to take on a bigger, more experienced opponent yet. “Don’t forget I was trained by Hammer Strike, and while it’s been a few centuries since I seriously fought anyone, that doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten that training. If you think I’m hard to fight, you should see Luna. That fight that nearly broke Canterlot wasn’t even her full strength. Both she and Hammer Strike were holding back. When I say Luna was born to fight, I don’t mean it as a compliment. She was literally bred for it. That’s why she’s always so at home on the battlefield.”
“I know, Twilight, but you’re not ready yet. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.” With that, Celestia flashed an almost devious grin. “However, it has occurred to me that in the lifestyle of a scholar, you have left your physical training neglected. If you truly wish to follow the path of the battlemage, then we must work on sculpting your body into the proper structure for such pursuits. You can’t rely on teleportation and spells to do everything on the battlefield. It’s my understanding that Rarity has started a rather rigorous exercise routine since Grif started tutoring her in the ways of the blade. Get a copy from her, and then send it to me. I’ll make the necessary adjustments. If you really intend to pursue this path, then we will fit you for it. Also, see if Rarity can come up with a suitable battle robe for you. Then you’ll proceed to train with it on every day. Will you accept these conditions twilight?”
Twilight sighed. “Do I really have a choice?” Then, in a manner very reminiscent of an overstressed Celestia, she took a gigantic bite from her plate, clearing half the chocolate slice in one swallow.
“When I took you as my pupil, I promised you the very best education I could give. However, it seems that in my quest to be nurturing, there are some things that I left neglected. But don’t worry, Twilight. That will soon change.” Celestia’s demeanor shifted dramatically. Her form appeared nearly ten feet tall to Twilight, and her eyes seemed to glow maliciously. “I’ve never lied to you, Twilight, and I promise that before this year is over, you will find new definitions for pain and tired the likes of which you have yet to discover.” In an instant the visage melted away as Celestia held the teapot up. “Refill?” she asked sweetly.
“I . . . don’t . . . know?”
Hammer Strike had been fighting for four days and twenty hours. The flames from the initial fire storm he and Grif had unleashed still licked at some of the trees and other plant life. The shadows writhed, almost as if they were alive. He could hear the Changelings hiding in the shadows, and dealt with each accordingly as they sought to kill him. At this stage in the game, only he, Luna, and Clover were really necessary. The other troops had done their jobs well, providing just the distraction they needed to get past the bulk of Chrysalis’s defenses. The clouds and weather in the Everfree had prevented any sunlight from getting through. Only a light gray filtered in, which rapidly gave way to the darkness as night fell upon the forest.
Hammer Strike attacked a large hedge that must have been growing there for hundreds of years to reveal a swarm of drones much larger and more spiny than the previous drones he had encountered. They reminded him of the brute he’d attacked so long ago at Shining Armor’s wedding, when he slid underneath to cut its belly open, so he could gain access to their room in the castle. A line of unusually large drones stood in rank and file behind the hundred or so brutes. Their platting was thicker, more protective, and they had larger fangs. Even their hooves had spines on them, most likely for stealth kills and assassinations. In short, these looked like elite troops. Behind them, the trees had been draped in strings of glowing green goo that looked like a mix between spanish moss and spider webs. Beyond that, in the darkness of the trees, pulshed a sickly green color. This information snapped through Hammer Strike’s brain, even as he brought up a hoof to stop one of the brute’s charges.
Had it been anypony else, they would have easily overpowered them, but Hammer Strike was angry. Chrysalis and her troops had taken innocent lives, maimed and laid up hundreds of his troops. Some might not even survive thanks to her ridiculous desire for revenge. This creature didn’t deserve mercy. She deserved to burn. Guided only by his rage, and in a swirl of motion, he reached into his coat, and retrieved a large two-handed battle axe. The haft was as large as a spear’s, and the head held a single savage-looking blade with intricate engravings , granting it the appearance of a large dane axe.
The first swing sent two Changelings sprawling to the ground. One lost its left wing, and the other it’s right leg. Rolling the haft in his backswing, Hammer Strike flipped the head’s direction, and proceeded to decapitate two more Changelings, while the blade cut the throat of a third that was farther back. Hammer Strike let the axe’s weight guide it as he unleashed several brutal swings that cut the charging swarm down, his strength making the resistance of their chitin feel like little more than cutting through leather.
Hammer Strike didn’t even notice when the head snapped off the wooden haft as the blade sunk into the final Changeling’s neck. He paid little attention to the bodies and wounded around him as a wave of fire swam outwards from his body, and rendered the corpses to ash. He merely stood before the entrance to Chrysalis’s command post and let loose his challenge.
“Come now, Chrysalis! Are you going to just hide like a coward, rather than face me?”
Hammer Strike got no answer, but he could hear himself being surrounded as the brutes all tried to attack him at once. He heard their heavy breathing, their thick hooves churning the forest earth.
“So, that is how it is to be, then.”
This time, Hammer Strike produced a spiked warhammer. The next few minutes were filled with the sound of metal crunching chitin and ripping tendons. The air filled with the smell of changeling blood as Hammer Strike brought his attackers down again and again, until he stood amongst the corpses, their green blood bubbling around him.
He barely got a breather as more Changelings started to pour in from the woods from the left, right, and behind him. They were attacking a lot harder than before. His lips curled up into a smile as he let loose a grim chuckle. “Must be in the right place.”
While Chrysalis ordered more troops to attack Hammer Strike, and seal up the path he had created, she busily instructed others in her command post. Sleds and larger Changelings meant to carry smaller Changelings were being formed up. In the middle, Pupa looked around with a strange blend of curiosity and worry. The rear had shrunk as she pulled more drones from the back to try and force more advances. With this many soldiers, it was only a matter of time before the defenses fell but at the same time, it had weakened her own, and now Hammer Strike stood at her doorstep. She had to make sure the little one was safe. <Stay silent, keep calm, and remember to keep your disguises up. I don’t want you to be a target.> She made sure that some of the animal carcusses were tied to other carrying drones to make it look like a simple animal shipment for hive analysis. So far, no ponies had attacked the rear. They didn’t have the forces to spare with how hard she’d pressed them at their fortifications. Even that little attempt to break through the forest line had been repelled.
<I will, Mother. I will see you back at the hive, one way or another,> Pupa responded with a detached air.
<Go. You have your opening.> No further instructions were needed. The convoy left, all of them disguised like drones, either hurt, or acting like guards. She turned around and yanked control of one of the rear Changelings in the battle against Hammer Strike.
“What do you want, ‘Lord’ Strike?” Her tone was playful and taunting. “What does the forever dying want this time?”
“Oh, plenty of things.” Hammer Strike chuckled. “But, for now, I’m thinking of your head on a pike.”
“I’m afraid I’m somewhat attached to my head,” she said flatly.
“I’m sure I can help you part ways with it.”
“I think I’ll just take yours, instead.”
“Many have tried, and all have failed, Chrysalis. I’ll add your name to the list, though.”
“We’ll see,” she sneered. “Give me a half hour, and I will meet you on the battlefield. No tricks, no guards. It will be just you and me. If you’re so eager to end your life, I’ll gladly oblige you.”
“Bring it.” Hammer Strike tossed the hammer away idly as he turned to make his way to the tree line. “I’ll see you outside New Unity.” Reaching into his coat, he pulled out something very special. The flail had a sturdy steel chain that connected to a much larger weight covered in dozens of needle-sharp spikes. “Be prepared. I won’t go easy on you.”
True to her word, Chrysalis arrived a half hour later. Using the love from the hive, she had thickened her chitin to give her better defense against Hammer Strike’s blows, giving her a slightly more hulking appearance. The two locked eyes, but no words were heard. Chrysalis stood with her horn glowing, Hammer Strike stood with the flail spinning rapidly above his head as he held it in one hoof. Then, on some unspoken signal, the two charged.
When they met, Hammer Strike brought the flail down hard on Chrysalis's shoulder with a loud crunch and a spray of blood as chitin cracked under the impact. However, the close range weapon left Hammer Strike open, and Chrysalis released a blast of magic that sent him flying. She teleported in front of him, only to be met with another swing from the mace. This time, it dug into her flank. New cracks spidered on her armor and began oozing green. Hammer Strike pulled back savagely, and the mace tore flesh with it as it released its hold. The chain and ball began to steam as he twirled around and landed another blow. This time, the cracking chitin and blood was accompanied by the sound of sizzling flesh.
Chrysalis cried out in pain. On reflex, she grabbed hammer Strike, and threw him skyward. With that momentary reprieve to regain her senses, the Changeling queen teleported above Hammer Strike’s rising body, then conjured a wall of pure magical force and slammed it down with all her might, sending Hammer Strike careening towards the ground at at startling speed.
He landed a hundred yards away with a loud boom as dust and dirt shot into the air. As the dust and debris cleared, Hammer Strike found himself struggling to get to his hooves. He soon found the reason why as he noticed his left shoulder migrating downwards. With a growl, he dropped his mace, and, in one swift motion, wrenched the arm back into place with a sickening pop. He heard the humming of chrysalis’s approach without even lifting his head to see, and ducked, swiping his mace in the process, and striking with a blow that sent the Changeling queen flying out of her control. Without giving her a chance to recover he gathered what power he had left, and sent a fresh stream of flames towards her. The flames missed their target, but the blast of heat shriveled her wings, rendering her earthbound.
Chrysalis heard several unsettling pops as she stood up. Her body cried out in anguish, and the loss of her wings made for a devastating tactical blow. SHe looked desperately for anything she might be able to utilize as an advantage. Her eyes settled on a discarded spear lying on the battlefield. She swiped hastily it in her magic, and braced for the blows to come.
Hammer Strike charged her with a heavy swing, only for her to throw the spear haft up at the last second, catching the chain, and wrenching the weapon from Hammer Strike’s grasp. She gave a haughty laugh, only to be met with a hard right cross. Hammer Strike rained blow after blow, using only his hooves to force the Changeling queen to give ground.
For the next hour, the soldiers of the Bladefeather compound and New Unity watched the fight, hoping against hope that an end to this hell might be in sight. The battlefield became more unrecognizable as magic and fire clashed in a primal battle powered by unfettered rage. Hammer Strike was stronger in body, but he was tired, and his reserves were low. Chrysalis was the superior in magic, but she had sustained far too much physical damage. Her whole body ached, and she could feel how much blood she had lost.
It was almost noon the following day when Chrysalis made her fatal mistake. In desperation, she had taken hold of Hammer Strike’s tail with magic, and thrown him with all the strength the hive could afford to lend her. The second before her release, Hammer strike’s hooves wrapped around her back leg. As a result, the two went flying towards New Unity with frightening speed. Hammer Strike didn’t even think about it as he flipped himself over in the air, and, using the additional force, threw Chrysalis with everything he had. The Changeling Queen’s body took off with so much force that it formed a mach cone around her as it shattered through the barrier. The shield proceeded to take off much of the force. Unfortunately for Chrysalis, one of the stained glass windows in the castle took off the rest, before she slammed down into the great hall, skidded across the floor, and collided with Celestia’s former throne.
The force from the impact proceeded to break the chair’s back with a mighty crack, leaving the Changeling queen sprawled out on the now-backless stone seat. Seconds later, Hammer Strike landed on the hard stone floor, just past the stained glass window’s remains. He took several breaths as he made his way towards Chrysalis, grabbing hold of a large shard of the stained glass window in the process.
“What are you doing?” Chrysalis snarled. She tried to get up, only for her eyes to widen with horror as she realized her legs wouldn’t respond. That blow had broken much more than just the throne.
Hammer Strike didn’t respond as he drew closer, knowing full well what he had heard on impact. A snarl grew on his face as he loomed over her.
The Changeling queen stared up at him. For the first time, she felt genuine fear raging through her system.
Hammer Strike didn’t say anything as he stood on his hind legs. He raised the shard like he would a dagger as his snarl twisted into a wicked grin. He slammed the shard home, cleaving through flesh and bone, until the glass shattered in his hooves. Chrysalis’ head had separated, and was busy rolling off along the floor.
Hammer Strike let out a faint chuckle, before he sighed, and took a few breaths. He was tired. So incredibly tired.
“Hammer Strike!” Clover burst into the throne room. “What did you do? The changelings just–.” She broke off as she saw the corpse. Blast and Tower Shield barreled in behind her.
“My lor–.” They spotted Chrysalis, the trail of vivid green blood, and then her head. “By Sleipnir's beard!” Blast exclaimed.
“Clover,” Hammer Strike said between breaths. “What is happening with the changelings?”
“They’ve stopped. They’re just standing there doing nothing, like they’ve been stunned or something.”
Hammer Strike chuckled. “Good. That’ll make them easier to finish off,” he said as he took a few steps away from Chrysalis’ corpse.
“Should we drag this body away to be burned, my lord?” Blast Shield asked.
“Burn the body, but the head is to be mounted on a pike. Let them know how far we have come.”
“It will be done.” Tower nodded, and the two ran off.
“So, then, I suppose you should find some place to rest.” Clover chuckled. “Lord Hammer Strike, Queenslayer.”
“Add it to the list of titles I’ll never use.” Hammer Strike rolled his eyes. “I . . . I think I might actually take your advice this time, Clover. Possibly even get some medical treatment.”
“You head to your rooms. I’ll have some healers sent down to you. As for myself, I have some cleaning that needs doing.” Without another word, Clover left the room.
Pensword stood in the fields outside the walls. The charred remains of the Thestral quarters they had built lay around him in scattered disarray. What few troops were still able to fight stood before him in an organized manner. Their mission had been clear: clear a path to reach Chrysalis’ former command post, and capture anything important, along with any evidence or clues to guide them to the offensive hive’s true location. He looked at the two Unicorns, three Thestrals, one Pegasus, and three Earth Ponies pulling the carts behind.
“We have our orders. Clear a path, and attack any Changelings that get in our way. We need to secure Chrysalis’ base, take what we need, and destroy what we can.”
The troops saluted with their spears and they moved on their way. It was unnerving how silent the forest had become with the death of the Changeling queen. Even the crackling of flames had finally died out it. Once in awhile, a whisper of wind would tease their ears and manes, but nothing else really stirred.
After about thirty minutes, they began to relax, and took a faster pace. The Changelings in the field were breaking away from their fellows out of self preservation, after the majority of their forces had been cleared. Some even tried to attack them, but most of them were lost and disorganized. Without a major mind to guide them, their unity was shattered, and that made them easy pickings. He noticed at least three times where small packs of Changelings had formed to attack others. More often than not, there was a captain or some other commanding link from the hive mind directing them. Those were taken out right away. He didn’t want any rabid changelings around. The creaking of the wheels sounded louder as they rolled over exposed roots. The scars of the battle surrounded them. All heads and ears swiveled to scan the environment for any potential hostile forces.
That silence was broken by the sound of a twig snapping. He motioned to a Thestral and Pegasus to follow, and they took off to the location. They finally came across a group of Changelings in the middle of what looked like a transit order of some kind. With their queen’s mind gone, they moved more jerkily, and with less coordination. It would seem that without their queen to guide them, they were struggling over what to do next.
Pensword’s keen eyes soon caught that something wasn’t quite right. One of the Changeling drones had a brighter shine to its chitin, for one. The other was its distinct lack of jerkiness. This drone was almost calm compared to the others. Its eyes sparked every once in awhile, and as they did, the jerky movements intensified. He narrowed his eyes suspiciously, and held up a wing blade. The clouds had finally parted, letting the sun shine on the weapons to emphasize just how deadly they were.
“Stay,” he ordered as he approached the Changeling. The closer he drew, the more nervous the Changeling looked as its eyes darted left, right, anywhere it might find an escape route. Then it assessed the other troops, and its wings stopped twitching as they retracted. Pensword continued to press forward. The little creature cringed, and that gave Pensword pause. He hadn’t seen a Changeling this independent without some form of guidance since Me-Me and Mutatio. Could it be? Was it possible? He decided to experiment. He pointed the tip of his wing blades at the ling. “Yield,” he commanded.
The changeling cowered, shaking in panic as it backed away slowly. The other drones buzzed angrily as they prepared to defend the younger one, only for them to be decapitated or otherwise destroyed by the other soldiers.
“Stop, or you will die,” Pensword barked. A moment later, two Unicorns teleported in to cut her off, and the two flyers flew to overhead, just incase. Pensword continued his grim advance. She was surrounded now, and that meant she could be dangerous.
The changeling said nothing as it continued to cower. It frame trembled, then almost seemed to vibrate as the flames rose up around it. In a matter of seconds, the Changeling’s true form revealed itself, even as its hooves remained over its eyes. It sniffled, doing its best to hold back the tears building behind those eyes.
She looked much more like a Pony than her fellows, and had a smooth, silky green mane and tail. Her smooth chitin glimmered in the light, reminding Pensword of a younger Chrysalis. When she peeked out from behind her hooves, he saw her eyes. They were green, much like when Chrysalis used her magic, but they were softer than that, and despite her best efforts, tears poured out from them. She looked utterly terrified. If this particular Changeling was anything like Me-Me, then she must have been feeling terror for the first time. Her translucent wings hung limply at her side.
Pensword snapped his wings open, and the two flyers landed. “Judging by your general appearance, I am going to assume that you are a princess. Surrender, and you will remain unharmed. Do not surrender, and I will personally run you through, and leave your body for the forest to eat.”
The changeling just stared with wide eyes as its shaking increased.
He turned to one of the Thestrals. “Get Me-Me. Tell her what we’ve found. I want a translator, or some means of getting into her head to communicate with her.”
The Thestral snapped a wing in salute, took off into the air, and headed back towards the fortress. “You will stay right there,” Pensword instructed the princess. “Don’t change forms either.” The Changeling continued to stare as the tears ran down her cheeks, and Pensword finally realized something. He immediately proceeded to smack his forehead with a wing. “Move your head up and down, if you understand me.”
She just whimpered as she stared at the imposing figures, and the dead troops that she had just watched get killed.
Pensword sighed. “At ease, soldiers. We don’t want to startle her any more than she already has been. Keep up your guard, but make sure to be as calm and non-threatening as you can.”
The troops nodded, and proceeded to grab rations and other items from their wagons, then settled down to wait. Some dozed, and Pensword wouldn’t blame them this time around. The last few days has been a true test of their mettle and stamina. They had earned their rest.
Fifteen minutes later, Pensword rose to his hooves as he heard the sound of buzzing wings. He dusted off his armor, and ordered the troops to do the same as the buzzing drew closer. The Changeling was shaking so hard now that her chitin literally clanked like shattering teeth.
“Where is she?” a familiar voice spoke as Me-Me landed in the clearing, flanked by a full squadron of eight praetorians.
Pensword was shocked as he pointed to his left and the shaking Princess. “Miss Chihuahua is over there, Me-Me, but, if you don’t mind my asking, why are you here?”
“Don’t say that,” Me-Me snapped as she approached the princess. The praetorians swiftly formed up a line between the Ponies and the two Changelings. Me-me said nothing as she approached, but judging by how their eyes flickered, Pensword guessed they were communicating telepathically.
Me-Me wrapped her legs gently around the Changeling. Then she buzzed her wings and rubbed a hoof down the girl’s back.
“Do not interfere,” Pensword ordered. “I think this is a Changeling thing.” He idly wondered how many times he would see things no other Pony had seen about Changelings, before his time on this world was over. He carefully approached one of the praetorians, and cleared his throat. “When they are free, could you ask one of your hive members to write a book on how to deal with situations like this? It might prove useful to both our kingdoms in the event that something like this should happen again.”
“Do you enjoy brandishing your sword to children?” one of the praetorians asked. Venom practically dripped from his voice as he glared.
Pensword looked at the princess, then to the Praetorian. “You are telling me that this Changeling, who looks like a fully grown mare, is a child?” he asked in stunned disbelief. “What would a child be doing on the battlefield?”
Me-Me sighed as she turned her head to face Pensword, even while she continued to stroke the young Changeling’s mane. “My sister Pupa was hatched two years ago, Pensword. Her growth is slow for our species, because a queen should learn to rule. I was an abnormality, because you and your friends gave me chocolate. It takes decades for a queen to grow to maturity under normal circumstances.” Me-me’s voice was distant for the first time since she’d warmed up to them, and it pained Pensword to know that he was responsible for causing such tension. “By hive standards, mentally, she’s only about as old as your daughter looks to be.”
Pensword sighed and shook his head. “I’m so sorry, Me-Me. I did not know.” He looked to his troops, and called them to attention. “Prepare to fall out. Follow your orders. The Everfree Hive has this under control.” He looked back to the Changelings. “I have caused you all enough trouble today, and I am sorry for it. Please let Pupa know that I apologize as well. When I realized she couldn’t understand us, I tried to keep things as calm as possible. If I’d known what I do now, I would have done things differently.” The expressions on the praetorians’ faces softened as they felt Pensword’s disgust with himself. He didn't know what kind of pain was being shared, but he didn’t want to cause any more of it.
“I’ll take her back to the hive,” Me-Me said. “Perhaps some royal jelly will help to sooth her.”
Another pang of guilt stabbed at Pensword’s heart as he recalled the way they had dispatched those guards in front of Pupa. He nodded his head, and looked to the Princess. “My apologies,” he said, before turning around, and barking orders at his troops. They immediately filed up, and began to leave. As he walked to the head of the column, he discovered another emotion growing as he gave one last look back at the Changelings, a solemn determination to protect this new princess. If what Me-Me said was true, then Pupa was just like his daughter. He wouldn’t let an innocent be hurt if he could help it.
Me-Me smiled kindly as she picked Pupa up and set her on her back. Perhaps there was hope for Ponies yet. Then she spread her wings and nodded to her entourage, before they took off to return to the hive.
While the Ponies worked to reclaim the dead and sort them out, the Gryphons formed smaller warbands which made their way across the field to kill any changelings who were still alive, before they could recover or go feral. The work was gory and long, and both groups required several trade-offs as time went on. The Changeling carcasses were piled up nearby in the ghastly gorge, and burned.
The casualty list was staggering, and it seemed to grow longer with every return shift. Gryphons, Ponies, even Changelings from Me-Me’s hive were retrieved and arranged, before being given the rites that each demanded to be laid to rest. The changelings had fought admirably, but as Me-Me had informed them, there were no rites for the empty shells left behind when drones died, so the Thestrals, Pegasi, and Gryphons took it upon themselves to give the drones a warrior's funeral in the fashion of their races. It seemed only fair when they had given so much to protect New Unity and Ponyville.
Four hours into the latest shift, Grif landed in the courtyard with a figure draped over his shoulder. “Medic! Medic! We’ve got a live one! How, I have no idea, but by some miracle, this Unicorn’s still breathing!”
Pensword was getting ready to head out on the next group, but froze when he saw the figure on Grif’s back. Even as the medics raced forward, he felt a familiar pit opening up in his stomach. He stepped forward, and drew the silver streaks back from the bloody coat. He braced himself as he ran his hoof down to the fighter’s flank, and found the telltale mark of a spear placed over a shield. Ice picked Pensword’ heart. Why did death always have to take the good leaders first?
The Unicorn was taken off Grif’s back, and Pensword wept as he took in the full extent of the damages. Silver Spear’s horn was gone. All that remained was a jagged stump and the dangling remains of the carbuncle’s roots. A silver ichor ran down from the spot and coagulated with the blood. The copper of his coat had been dyed crimson. His front left foreleg was just a stump, and his tail was gone. His mane had been torn out in several places, leaving more bloody patches to complement the deep lacerations on his side. Yet despite all this, he was still breathing faintly.
Pensword looked around as he helped with rags and various healing salves, doing his best to clean and disinfect the wounds. He didn’t know what they could do, and he didn’t want get his hopes up too high, but by Faust, he didn’t want to lose him either. “Silver, you stay with me, okay? We need you here,” he said, before he glared up at the sky. “Silver stays. Do you hear me? Silver stays!” His rage flared. and he was already thinking of ways to take the battle to Chrysalis’ hive. This wasn’t a simple skirmish anymore. Now it was personal. This had become outright war.
“Sir.” That word cut through the haze, and Pensword was immediately drawn back to the present. “I’m sorry, Sir, but no magic can heal these wounds. Not when they’re this extensive,” the medic said as he shook his head. “T-there’s not much we can do, except maybe make him comfortable.”
“I know that,” Pensword snapped. The medic recoiled, and Pensword sighed. “I’m sorry. This is just . . . difficult for me to take in. He . . . he was one of the best recruits we ever had.” His voice choked as he struggled to hold the tears back. It didn’t help that he was carrying enough guilt for two people. Matthew was second guessing himself, regretting the decision to convince Silver Spear to stay. Pensword was struggling with the guilt of having to explain these deaths to the families of the fallen. He had hoped not to have to worry about such things in this day and age, but it would appear fate had other plans. On top of that guilt was the guilt of hiding facts from Matthew, until he was ready to take them. He sighed. Nearly half the troops he had trained as a human had died in the battle. He wasn’t sure Matthew could handle that weight just yet. “Keep him comfortable.”
Preston approached, looking sadly on Silver Spear, when he suddenly stiffened. His eyes glowed, and he opened his mouth. “We can save him,” Me-Me’s voice echoed.
Pensword turned to look at Preston, then turned to the medics. “Keep him comfortable, but keep him stable.” He motioned then for Preston to follow him. They found themselves in an empty room on the courtyard’s edge. “Alright, Me-Me. How, exactly, can you save him?” His voice raw and threatened to break. He was more than amazed that Me-Me was willing to help after what had happened so recently with young Pupa. She had every right to refuse, and yet she didn’t. It would seem that mercy and forgiveness were in a bit more abundance in Me-Me’s hive, and he was very grateful for it.
“Your DNA isn’t too different from our own. I can put him in a nurturing chamber, and fill it with enough healing fluid and liquid love to regenerate his damage while keeping him stable in a coma.”
The two minds didn’t even have to think. “Do it,” Pensword ordered. “Get the doctors.” He took a proffered piece of parchment, quill and inkwell from the Changeling, and hastily wrote out an order. Then he signed it, and pressed it to Preston’s chest. “There. You have my full authority to save Silver Spear. Tell them what needs to be done, and what to expect. If they have any concerns they can take those matters up with me personally.”
Preston nodded. “I’ll take it from here, then.” He swiftly presented the order to the medics. Once it had been established that Pensword had given permission, Preston’s eyes flickered as he called out to several drones nearby. They reported in a matter of moments. With a series of quick, synchronized motions, they grabbed Silver Spear, and carted him off.
Pensword had more than a few concerns, but if this could prove to be effective, then Me-Me could very well be a lifesaver on the battlefield. As it stood, though, this would be incredibly dangerous, and he would have to face a great deal of scrutiny, but if there was even a chance, he had to take it. If anyone could do it, Me-Me could. He exited, and was promptly besieged by doctors and nurses. When he finally got them to quiet down, he addressed them.
“If Hammer Strike could beat Death, then I’d better try my wing at saving my own men when I can.” The future hinged now on just what would come from this one choice. “I won’t take any more objections. They will be noted in the record, and I will accept full responsibility for my actions should Silver Spear or his family seek legal recourse.” The staff grumbled, but grudgingly agreed. The deed had already been done anyways, and none of them knew where Me-Me’s hive was located. As he walked away, he stared up at the sky, and sighed. “Faust, I hope I know what I’m doing.”
Hammer Strike couldn’t help but groan as he rolled his shoulders. He needed to rest, but the work wasn’t done. Chrysalis had dug tunnels all the way to the Everfree Forest, and he was determined to seal them. Still, for now, he needed a little break. He rested in the throne room as he looked at the medics scurrying around with their patients. The infirmary was too overstocked, so the extras had to be put in the throne room to join him. He just needed a moment to catch his breath. Then he would make his way to the tunnels. Yeah, just a minute. . . .
Or now. He didn’t want to delay himself. . . .
But, resting did sound good.
He stood from his seat, and moved towards the door, determined not to let his injuries get the better of him. A bright flash of light nearly blinded Hammer Strike as three sets of hooves clopped onto the smooth stones of the castle hall.
“I understand your connection to the sun, and light, and all that, but must every teleport involve a blindingly bright light right in my eyes, Celestia?” Hammer Strike questioned aloud as he rubbed his eyes.
“In a word, yes,” Celestia said. “You’ll learn the reason later down the road.”
“Time and all that nonsense,” Hammer Strike groaned. “Got it.” He blinked owlishly a few times, then looked to the trio in front of him.
“Is everyone all right?” Vital Spark asked with concern. “I would’ve come, but . . . well, I think we all know I would’ve just been in the way.” He scuffed a hoof absently on the floor.
“Casualty count is not low,” Hammer Strike replied simply as he continued walking. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go cave in some tunnels.”
“In your condition? Hammer Strike, you should rest. I’ve never seen you look tired before, but you actually look tired now,” Twilight protested.
“I will not rest until this is done with,” Hammer Strike nearly growled out.
“Then at least take someone with you,” Celestia said. “Why not Vital Spark? It seems he’s one of the only ones you actually take a moment to listen to. Mother knows why.”
Hammer Strike sighed. “Fine. I need to talk with him anyways.” He directed his gaze over to Vital. “Come now. We have tunnels to seal.”
Vital Spark sighed. “And a long talk, right?”
“Correct,” Hammer Strike said as he continued on his path out of the castle.
“Vital Spark!” Clover’s voice shouted amongst the crowd. The old mare showed surprising speed as she ran up and promptly embraced him. “You came back!” A moment later, she let go, stepped back, and hit him across the face “Where were you?” Then she hugged him again. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”
“Okay. First off, I missed you, too. Secondly, ouch. Thirdly, I’m . . . glad you’re okay, too? What happened? I know there was a fight. Celestia and I stayed behind with Twilight in Canterlot and Ponyville.”
“We were attacked by a hundred thousand Changelings,” Clover said as she rubbed her eyes. It was then that Vital Spark realized just how tired she looked. Her eyes were pink from lack of sleep, and her mane was frazzled and worn. “They just kept coming in droves. Between the fighting, and holding up the shield, it’s been a draining few days.”
“You should get some rest,” he noted. “Your bags have bags.”
“I was just heading in. The last of the Changeling corpses are heading to the gorge to be burned.” She yawned. “And the horses and Kitsune have agreed to keep up guard while the rest of us get some sleep.”
Vital’s eyes widened, and his nostrils flared slightly. “Where . . . exactly in the gorge, Clover?”
“Close enough to carry them, but far enough away to keep the smell away from here and Ponyville,” she said.
”Oh, okay.” Vital chuckled. “Sorry, I thought you were talking about the gorge next to the castle.”
“That would be unsanitary, and the area would reek for weeks,” Clover noted.
“They smell that bad when they’re burned?”
“Bodies usually do.”
“Even insectoid ones?”
Hammer Strike stood nearby, catching himself nearly tapping his hoof impatiently. “I don’t mean to interrupt, but the tunnels need to be sealed off, before anything uses them again.”
Vital Spark blushed. “Oh, yeah . . . right. Heh. Sorry, Clover. I’ll come by your lab later to fill you in on what happened on my end, okay?”
“Sure. Sure.” Clover waved a hoof absently as she walked away.
“. . . Wow she really is beat.”
“You have no idea,” Hammer Strike said. “Shall we?”
Hammer Strike led Vital through the forest. As they walked, they could see arrows sticking out of the ground. Whole swaths of forest had been reduced to ash. New impressions and trails had been formed from the dragging and recovery of bodies. The cool, moist, refreshing smell of the forest was overpowered by the scent of burnt woods, scorched earth, and cooked meat. Vital Spark decided it was best not to try to think about what was cooking. Eventually, they passed a large section of cracked boulders, and what appeared to be signs of Greek fire. Finally, they reached the true forest again, and passed into another startling situation. The whole place was eerily silent. The only sound was that of their own hooves trekking through the underbrush.
“So, about that talk you wanted to have?” Vital Spark asked.
“I’m still trying to think how I want to go about this conversation.” Hammer Strike sighed. “I guess I’ll start simple. Why?”
“As in why am I back here?”
“Yes. I mean, we made it back home, and Discord promises that it wasn’t an involuntary teleport back.”
Vital Spark grimaced. “Promise not to be mad at me?”
After a moment, Hammer sighed again. “I promise.”
Vital sighed as he dropped his head. “I tripped.”
Hammer Strike opened his mouth to respond, before he closed it once again, and shook his head, not choosing to say anything as he continued walking towards the tunnel entrance.
“On the plus side, I’ve got guaranteed employment back home. I’m going to become the first ambassador to Equestria.”
“I figured that’s how things were going to go,” Hammer replied as he stopped before a large opening in the ground. “We’re here.”
“So did you bring a light?”
Hammer Strike gave him that same flat stare as his hoof ignited like usual.
“You sure you don’t want me to just use my magic, instead? You’ve been pushing yourself for four days.”
“I’ve done this countless times. I can keep it up for another month, if needed.” Hammer Strike sighed again as he pressed on into the cave.
“Famous last words,” Vital’s voice echoed as they entered the confines of the tunnel’s walls.
“Complain all you want. I’ll rest when I’m dead.”
Vital sighed, and rolled his eyes as he followed his friend into the blackness. “You know, we really need to work on that whole biting-off-more-than-you-can-chew bit.”
“I know my limits. We haven’t hit them just yet.”
“You, Sir, are incorrigible.”
“And yet you keep trying.”
“Would you still love me, if I was any other way?”
“I’d probably be happier.”
Before Vital could make a response, a voice further in the tunnels echoed around them.
“Who’s there? Show yerselves! We’ve had blasted demons running around our tunnels for four days, and we ain’t got a lot of patience for trespassers in our mines.”
Hammer Strike stared forward in blank disbelief. “There’s someone else down here?”
“And why does it sound like Gimli with a Scottish accent?” Vital Spark asked.
“Hey! I don’t sound anything like Gimli! I ain’t no table-waitin’ no-beard! Now shut up an-” It was then that Hammer Strike and Vital Spark came into sight of a small group of shetland Ponies. The dwarfed Ponies all had rough-looking unkempt coats of different earthy colours and tones. Prominent beards hung from their muzzles. Each was dressed in well-made angular armor, and wore single piece open-faced helmets. They were armed with pickaxes, small hammers, and axes – many, many axes. War axes, battle axes, hatchets. They had enough axe blades to deforest the Everfree in a week, but Hammer Strike couldn’t help but notice the leader’s weapon. It was, or had been at one time, a forging hammer. It had been gilded in areas, and set with intricately carved gems, but still as present as the day it was crafted, carved on its face, was a familiar emblem.
“By your own beard!” the Pony gasped.
Hammer Strike opened his mouth to respond, only to close it. He was at a loss for words. “What?”
“You’re him! We always knew you’d return, but we couldn’t be certain when.” The dwarves bowed quickly. “Forgive my harsh words, Sir. All hail the blue lard,” he shouted in his brogue.
“What?”
“All hail the blue lard!” the other dwarf Ponies shouted in response.
“I’m sorry. Let me rephrase myself. What?” Hammer Strike questioned aloud again.
The Dwarves had led them through the tunnels, and down many twists and turns. As they walked, Hammer Strike realized they were going deeper, but seemingly not a lot farther away. New Unity couldn’t be more than five miles away, but they had to be a good three miles below ground by now. Just as he finished calculating the figures in his head, they exited a tunnel, and entered a massive cavern. It stretched beyond their line of sight in all directions. The walls had been carved smooth and flat, and a large carved stone staircase led down from the opening towards a city filled with stone buildings, each carved in beautiful angular patterns portraying the faces of various Ponies with Celtic and Nordic patterns trimmed with gold or silver surrounding them. They were arranged in straight groups that led from the edge of the city to the very center, and candles and other luminescent stones lined the halls and the windows like street lamps to help the travelers see.
Hundreds of Dwarf Ponies ran through the streets performing all manner of daily tasks. From this height, they looked more like ants. However, the thing that gained Hammer Strike’s reaction was the large stone statue of a familiar looking Earth Pony sitting on his haunches, leaning on a large smithing hammer, and wearing an unmistakable coat that had been artfully carved and crafted from from cobalt glass. A large star sapphire that had been perfectly cut and polished in the shape of a blooming rose hung above the behemoth’s head, supported in web of thin, nigh-invisible silvery-white chains that glowed with the stone to spread light over the entire cavern.
The lead Dwarf in their escort looked at Hammer Strike with determination. “You dunnae like it? Did we use the wrong stone? Did we not make you mighty enough? Tell us now, blue lard, and we’ll tear it down, and build another one.”
“I’m just a bit . . . stunned, at the moment,” Hammer Strike replied. “It looks almost unbelieveable.”
“My granddad would be happy. He was one of the apprentice stone cutters who hewed the rock they used to make the base.”
“How long did it take to build all of this?” Vital Spark asked. “And where did you find a gemstone that huge?”
“We of the Olflgan clan found this cavern three millennia ago. We’ve been working the stone to expand it ever since. We were outcast from our kind. Why? No one can remember. It’s been lost to us, but, originally, we were poor, and it was unknown how much longer we could stay here. We had no ore, and our tools were broken.” His eyes became dreamy as a more reverent tone snuck into his voice. “And then we found the blue lard. He guided us to the veins, and gave us the tools to mine them, such tools the like we’ve never been able to make. He saved our people much hardship.”
Hammer Strike seemed confused for all of a second, before he finally realized what the Dwarf was talking about. “Oh. I get it now,” he muttered.
“Mine own family is singularly blessed to wield the great forge hammer that you bestowed upon my great grandfather.” The Dwarf held up his hammer proudly.
“You’ve certainly kept it maintained throughout the years.” Hammer Strike nodded approvingly as he looked to the old hammer. Even with over a millennium behind it, it still looked fit for work.
“Well, it is a Hammer Strike original, so it makes sense it would make it through the years without too much difficulty,” Vital said. “Didn’t you tell me you had a few weapons from the Third Gryphon War era that survived to today, Hammer Strike?”
“They still needed some work done. Not much, but they would have been better, if they were maintained.”
“Somepony didn’t take care of the blue lard’s creations? Blasphemy!”
“I felt the same way, though with a bit more anger,” Hammer Strike commented.
They made their way down the staircase, and through a broad stone walkway into the city. This close to the floor of the cavern, they began to notice that more and more brass was visible while smoke stacks and pipes in general snaked around the rock walls, under stairs, and through ornately carved holes. Instead of destroying their architecture to make way for these new items, they forged their city around it to preserve the integrity of the stone and the cavern, while still maintaining the great Pony ideal of harmony with nature. The huff, puff, and hiss of steam machines reverberated as the little Ponies went about their crafts. As they passed one alleyway, it looked like they had a very rudimentary steam shovel working towards one of the walls. Two of the burlier Dwarves carried pipes as big as they were across their backs as they went about their business to transport them wherever the delivery needed to go.
“Looks like you and your people are a lot more industrious than the Ponies back on the surface,” Vital Spark noted.
“Oh? You mean you lot are still living in caves?” A Dwarf to the right of the group asked. “Finally seeing how smart it is to build under the earth?”
“No, we have dwellings above ground, usually crafted as a blend of wood and stone to create a sturdy structure to live in. It’s actually pretty cosy.”
“Don’t forget the metallic framework in specific regions,” Hammer Strike reminded him.
“Ah so you must end up burnin’’ them down a lot then. It must be impossible to keep the forges cool enough not to.”
“Oh no. The forge is placed underground, and surrounded by dense stone. No way I would build that near wood.” Hammer Strike shook his head.
“But then how do you forge while relaxing in the family room for the evening?” the Dwarf asked, thoroughly confused.
“I, uh, don’t get to relax often.” Hammer Strike rubbed the back of his head. “I usually work almost all day and night, though I do have an office and bedroom. I just only really use the office, because of paperwork.”
“But don’t you forge to relax, Blue Lard? Don’t you have coal spirits to do your paperwork for you?”
“I kinda do relax by forging, but, no, I don’t have . . . coal spirits to do the paperwork for me,” Hammer Strike replied, somewhat confused.
Another Dwarf laughed. “He does everything himself. He really is the greatest smith.”
“Um, I know I’m going to sound really stupid here, but . . . what exactly are coal spirits?” Vital Spark asked.
“Oh, they’re the little puffs you find around your place as you use coal. Sort of like a poltergeist, but friendly. They love to move your things around, but if you aren't careful, they can crack and ignite on you. Best be wary when that happens.”
“. . . And now I understand why you have everything made from stone and metal.”
Grif sat back in a chair with a relieved sigh. The paperwork from the battle had finally been filled out and sorted into a neat pile on his desk. The families that had lost warriors had been consoled to the best of his ability. Their losses had been mercifully few in comparison to what New Unity had lost, but it still felt like too many. Forty-five Gryphons had lost their lives in the battle, and a good deal more had been injured. Their families would be looked after, but there was little Grif could do to replace what they’d lost. Still, they had been seen to. Their surviving food stores had been counted and re-distributed as necessary. Damages to the wall had been scanned, and they had an accurate idea of how many weapons needed to be replaced. Grif’s part in the process was finished, at least for now.
Getting back to his paws, Grif left the workroom he’d set up in his house, and moved towards the main chamber, where Shrial and Avalon had busied themselves with happier times, preparing for the official presentation of the cubs to the clan and the naming ceremony. Many other Gryphons had volunteered to help, if only to avoid the horrible reality that had been the battlefield cleanup. And so, numerous members of the Bladefeather clan ran helter skelter.
“Oh, Gilda! I didn’t expect to see you here.” Grif chuckled as he came across the Gryphoness carrying a load of colorful flowers. “I thought all this baby stuff would be too prissy for you?” His tone kept a playful teasing quality to it, but he analyzed her carefully, even as he kept up the mask of joviality. Gilda had been on the front lines during the battle, and nobody knew what kind of unseen scars were healing, but having experienced those scars himself, he knew what signs to look for.
“Well, you know. It’s a naming ceremony,” Gilda said. Her tone was softer than usual. “It’s special for the kids. A big part of life, you know?”
“Yeah. I think we could all use something nice for once. Have you seen Shrial and the girls? I haven’t had as much time as I’d want with them. With everything finished for now, I figure it might be good to get some bonding time in.”
“Just keep going. Trust me; you’ll know where they are,” Gilda said with a chuckle. Grif raised an eyebrow in confusion as he kept going, until he saw what Gilda meant. Shrial was currently sitting on a chair with numerous Gryphonesses of all ages surrounding her.
With a silent chuckle, he made his way forward, shifting through the crowd as carefully as possible. “Excuse me, people, but I’d like to see the star attraction up close, if I might.” He kissed Shrial on the forehead as he finally broke through, and looked down at the two swaddled bundles in her arms. He felt a familiar warm glow in his heart as he looked down at his daughters. His daughters! The idea still blew his mind to even think about. He moved a talon to one of the bundles, and was surprised when a small taloned hand wriggled from the blanket and grasped his talon defiantly. “Looks like I have a challenger already.”
“Well what did you expect? She is her mother’s daughter, after all,” Shrial said with a playful smirk.
“Yes, she is.” Grif laughed. “And how have you been? I haven’t been able to see you during the last few days.”
“You’ve had others to worry about, just like you should,” she said pointedly. “It shows just how great a leader you are.”
“A great leader should still know the importance of his family. Have you gotten the rest you need?”
“You risked asking that with Kalima standing right behind you?”
“She can’t keep an eye on you all the time,” he said with a good natured roll of the eyes. “Hopefully you’ll be around for the next battle. I could have used you out there.”
Shrial chuckled. “I had plenty of my share of battle in here. These little tempests really wore me out.”
“Maybe, but you are still my most able second on the battlefield. And few who can get past me can get past you.”
“And if they try, Avalon will blow them into next week.”
“I wondered when you were going to start talking about me,” Avalon said cheekily as she spread her wings over the pair. “We really need to have more family moments like this,” she sighed.
“Well, fortune seems to favor us so far. We’re all still here.”
“Speaking of which,” Shrial said, “I’ve been thinking we should have Cheshire move in with us. She’s already family, and besides that, I think her baby will love playing with the girls once it’s born.”
“Thats a great idea. It’s not good for her to be alone in that house of hers,” Grif agreed.
“Make sure it’s her decision, though, honey. No ordering her to, alright?”
“I wouldn’t do that. And, honestly, could you see her listening to such an order, if I did?”
Avalon laughed. “He’s got a point there.”
“As he should, after all the sense he’s had to have knocked into him,” Kalima commented wryly.
“I’m nothing, if not consistent.” Grif laughed.
“And we all love you for it,” Shrial said as she pulled his muzzle down for a double team kiss with Avalon.
Pensword and Lunar Fang stood on the castle wall as they watched the skies towards Canterlot. Today was when Moon River would be returning to them, and they would get to know how she behaved while they were gone. Pensword looked to Lunar Fang and smiled as he nuzzled her. “You think she was a hoofull or an angel?”
“You’re asking if our daughter was a hoofull?” Lunar Fang snickered. “That should be obvious.”
“Well, I know how she is with us, but I wonder how Cadence handled her.” He couldn’t help but join in the snickering. “You know how I hope she acted. I just. . . .” He frowned. “It was something my parents asked each other over the years, sometimes seriously, and, like here, sometimes joking.”
“I’m sure everything was fine,” she laughed assuringly.
“Well, we can ask Queen Cadence when she arrives. I see her coming now. With an armed escort in a flying chariot, no less.”
Both parents took to the air, and glided down to the courtyard to await the chariot’s landing. Cadence smiled as the vehicle descended, and finally settled down on the cobbled stones with hardly a sound. A tiny bundle on the Alicorn’s back suddenly shot in a blur of motion, before crashing into Lunar Fang. Two tiny hooves wrapped tightly around the Thestral’s neck as a cute little muzzle nuzzled affectionately with the occasional churr.
Pensword didn’t dare try to separate the pair. He remembered only too well what had happened last time as he absently rubbed his nose. Even at such a young age, that little filly had some incredibly sharp teeth. He settled on approaching Cadence instead. He smiled as he lowered his head in greeting. “How was she?”
“She was good. I mean, she was practically everywhere, and seemed to disappear the second I took my eyes off her, but she didn’t cause any major trouble as far as I know.”
Pensword grinned. “Well, I am happy to hear that. Though you might want to ask around with the local foals for any bumps in the night they might have heard.” He looked back at her entourage. “I am guessing you have to head back to Canterlot?” he asked as he watched a guard carry a familiar bag to his queen.
“Yes. And I’ll be taking a train back home from there,” she said.
“Understood. Do you have to leave right away?” he asked as he absently picked up on the bat-like conversation between his wife and daughter.
“Unfortunately, Bellacosa has something he wants to present to the court, and, as Queen, I need to be there when he does,” Cadence said. “I had fun looking after her, though. It’s good practice for when . . . you know.” She blushed.
“I am happy. And you won’t be opposed to looking after her again in the future?” Pensword briefly considered asking about what the young warrior had planned, but thought better of it. It would doubtless be in the newspapers soon enough. “Should I be getting a letter about what this is about after it is done, or will it be before?”
“Probably after it’s finished.”
“Understood.” He smiled. “I am guessing you are getting used to caring for Thestral foals?”
“I may have to.” She laughed, then gave Pensword a mischievous wink.
“Indeed. May you forever have the strength and youth to keep up with them.”
Cadence chuckled. “I’m an Alicorn. I don’t think that’ll be a problem.”
Pensword smirked. “Famous last words.” Then they both burst into a laughing fit.
The great hall was a rowdy place lined by statue after statue of giant stone Ponies, each wearing a hammer and a helmet beset with a diamond in its forehead. Table after table spanned the room to fit the many stallions that had come to sit. Each bore some emblem of office of stature in the form of a tool or weapon of some kind. Five in particular bore a tiny golden hammer with a large S engraved on all sides. These Ponies sat at a round table near an ascending stairwell that ultimately ended in a large throne carved from an intensely polished blue marble with rivulets of gold sparkling like waves on a distant shore.
A gigantic statue stood guard behind the throne in full battle armor as its forehooves rested on the knob of a gigantic twin bearded battle axe. Its two blades jutted out on either side of the throne, and towered over it, engraved with all manner of intricately carved runes, both Nordic and Celtic. The massive maw of a titanic dragon’s head snarled on the side, its eyes blank as the rest of its body rested under the warrior’s second set of hooves. The Pony sat on its haunches, even as it glared down at the gathering in the hall. A pulsing sapphire was mounted to its head, and . . . wait a minute, how could it be sitting and standing, and–?
“Is that . . . Sleipnir?” Vital Spark asked as he gaped at the statue. This question was answered by a Dwarf wearing a robe standing not far from the statue.
“Sleipnir the mighty! Sleipnir the unerring! Sleipnir the unassailable! To you we give praise! ” The Dwarf continued to shout random things like this, before looping around, and starting over. The other Dwarves seemed to do their best to ignore him.
“Forgive Heimskr, he is a little . . . overzealous in his faith,” Duncan, the Dwarf who had first led them to the hall, said.
Hammer Strike shrugged. “I’ve met worse.”
“He reminds me of an annoying zealot you once told me about in a game a long time ago, Hammer Strike. I believe you mentioned something about a land called Skyrim, if I recall correctly,” Vital Spark said.
Hammer Strike stared at him blankly for a minute before he shrugged. “Don’t remember that, but you kinda know why.”
“We really need to work on that,” Vital Spark sighed.
“Later.”
“So, uh, is this like some sort of clan meeting or something? And is that supposed to be a chair for a king? I’ve read a lot of lore about Dwarves, but I’m not sure exactly what’s true and what isn’t.”
“That’s the President’s chair.” One Dwarf shrugged.
“President?” Hammer Strike questioned.
“Ye thought we had a monarchy?” another Dwarf asked.
“Considering the situation topside for a majority of the races, I was expecting anything other than a democracy. What an interesting surprise,” Hammer Strike said.
“Very. I always thought Dwarves had kings, no matter what,” Vital Spark agreed.
“We used to call it the king, but we were voting him inta power anyway, so we figured just making things official made the paperwork easier.”
“And did it?”
“Yes.”
A loud gong sounded through the hall, followed by the sound of many drums and horns beating to a stirring march.
“What’s that?” Vital Spark asked.
“It’s our national anthem. We always do it before a clan meeting,” Duncan said.
“Really? How’s it go?”
“Well, first we have to wait for the President to show. He likes to make a grand entrance.”
Almost on cue, six finely dressed Dwarves entered two by two, and took positions around the President's throne. Each held an identical polished copper staff, and they began to pound them against the ground in unison. The sound of metal ringing against stone filled the air as a Dwarf dressed in steel plated armor with gold filigree around the breastplate entered the room. He walked in long slow strides in time to the pounding. His waist-length red mane was braided neatly behind him, and his beard was braided with colorful beads of varying metals. He carried a pickaxe in his hoof. Many intricate engravings scrawled across its surface. With a royal air, the Dwarf walked to his throne, turned, and sat at the round table as the last beat fell. A blue light shone from the jewel to rest upon him as he gazed in contentment at the hall.
“Told you,” Duncan sighed as he rolled his eyes. “Every bleedin’ time.”
The drums began to pick up speed as music swelled through the caverns. Then the President took a deep breath, and began to sing. Mares danced in with a flourish of their skirts as they poured honeyed mead into the colts’ goblets with synchronized ease, while musicians flowed into the hall in time to the music they were playing. Meanwhile, the mares had returned with plates and silverware, and gracefully added them to the tables, before retreating to let a virtual army of chefs arrive with heavy platters to slam down on the harty tables. They removed the lids to create a cloud of steam that obscured everything in the room for a moment, before clearing to reveal that the king had stood up from his place on his throne, even as he took up the final recant as he slowly descended towards his place of honor among the five other Dwarves at the round table. The entire chamber roared with the ending chorus, and all took their seats once again, before gazing at the giant pots of stew and platters of roasts that had been prepared.
Steaks glistened in the torchlight, bathed in a mushroom sauce, and giant crystals sat in silver bowls, waiting for consumption. One of the Dwarves snatched one up, before the President could give his approval or disapproval, and popped it into his mouth. He grinned as the sound of popping and fizzing sounded through his teeth. Lastly, thick slices of warm, fluffy, fresh-baked bread steamed as they were laid out to rest with slabs of freshly churned butter.
The President looked disapprovingly upon the offender, then gave a nod to where Hammer Strike stood. “Please, sit at the head of the table, Blue Lard, and bring your guest. We would normally ask you to watch over and protect us before we eat, but seein’ as you’re already here, we figure you can finally give us an answer.” He looked out at his fellow Dwarves. “May the blue lard protect us, and bring us strength, so we can have another meal on the morrow.”
Hammer Strike nodded as he moved towards the head of the table with Duncan and Vital following suit.
As he was given food, the President took a heavy swig from his own goblet. “So, Blue Lard, how have you enjoyed the tour of our fair city so far? Do you wish to use the holy forges tonight to craft something in memory of your visit?”
“I’m . . . very impressed, to be honest,” Hammer Strike replied as he glanced around once again. “As for the forges.” He maintained his flat look for all of about two seconds. “Oh, I can’t help it. Yes, I would actually like to see them, and potentially make something.”
“We’ll leave as soon as the meal’s through then,” the President responded as the Dwarves cheered, and drinks sloshed. Hammer Strike and Vital Spark were given goblets of their own. One smell told Vital Spark the beverage was anything but non-alcoholic.
“Um, not to be rude, but you wouldn’t happen to have some water I could drink instead, would you?” Vital Spark asked.
“That is water,” the mare to his left replied with confusion.
“I mean the cold stuff that flows out of the rocks sometimes? Clear? You know, not made from fermented grains?”
“You want to drink the liquid steam, laddie?” The mare to the right gasped in utter shock. “Are you looking to commit suicide?”
“He really is the assistant to the Blue Lard,” Heimskr lauded. “Praise be to the mighty warrior’s name! The blessings of the great Sleipnir rest upon them. The cries of their enemies shall be music to their ears as the ballads of their mighty deeds are written and sung!”
“Oh, shut up, Heimskr!” Duncan yelled.
“Um . . . about that water?” Vital Spark asked hesitantly.
“Aye. We’ll see what we can do,” Duncan said as he issued a server forward and whispered into his ear. The server stood back and looked at him like he was deranged. Duncan pulled the server back, and whispered something more. The Dwarf’s eyes went wide as he looked to Vital Spark before nodding and leaving.
“What did you just tell him?” Vital Spark asked. His voice was more concerned now than hesitant.
“That you’re some minor spirit that can drink liquid steam like ale, because that's what the blue lard called you forth from.”
“Well, I guess that’s half right,” Vital Spark mused.
Meanwhile, Hammer Strike was looking down into his own goblet, having taken a drink. “You know, I’m actually surprised.”
“How come?” Vital Spark asked.
“I’m surprised the goblet isn’t dissolving with what I was given…”
“Please. That brew almost never dissolves the goblets as long as they're made from the denser metals,” Duncan laughed.
“Surprising. I could faintly taste it before it burned away,” Hammer Strike replied.
“Well, we try our best.” The Dwarf shrugged.
“... And now I’m incredibly glad I didn’t drink it. Alcohol and I don’t mix.” Vital shuddered.
And at that moment all the loud conversations that had been going on suddenly stopped dead. The Dwarves stared at Vital Spark as though he’d grown a second head.
“Well, it’s true,” Vital protested weakly as he slid down a little in his seat. “Alcohol to me is like what water is to the Demos.”
“But life without alcohol is impossible,” one Dwarf noted.
“I was raised without it my entire life.” Vital Spark shrugged.
“Well there goes hundreds of years of research down the drain,” one Dwarf sighed.
Vital Spark cocked his head in confusion. “Eh?”
“Our best biology researcher was pointing towards alcohol being a primary ingredient in sentient life.” The Dwarf in question had a long blond mane and light peach-colored fur. He seemed to be wearing what resembled a lab coat and thick glasses.
“How many forms of sentient life did you test?” Hammer Strike questioned.
“Well, we kinda only had the one focus group,” the Dwarf admitted.
“Yeah, might have to look into more fields, before going further into that research,” Hammer Strike replied as he took another drink.
“The blue lard has spoken. More money shall be put towards expanding our understanding of natural philosophy,” the President said, banging his mug on the table.
“I mean . . . I wasn’t–.” Hammer muttered before exhaling. “So that’s how things are going to go.”
While Pensword worked on writing letters of apology to the next of kin for the Ponies who died in battle, Clover and Trixie were busy meeting in her private two-story study.
“You wanted to see me, Clover?” Trixie asked somewhat nervously as she sat on the rug by a makeshift chemistry set, and what appeared to be a floating cauldron inside its own bubble of space. Clover was busy rummaging around for various books and magical implements. “Has Trixie done something wrong?”
“Trixie, did you notice anything strange about the shield spell while you held it?” Clover asked as she pulled out a dusty tome from a crate with the crystal empire’s seal on it.
“Strange? Do you mean Trixie got it wrong? Oh, I knew I must have gotten a calculation off somewhere. I’m so sorry, Clover,” she wheedled nervously.
“No, that's not what this is about, Trixie. As far as we could tell, you cast the spell perfectly. The matter I want to focus on is how when you cast the spell, your magic reacted in a rather unexpected way.”
“Oh. That. Trixie . . . had an experience of sorts back before she–,” she took a deep breath. “Before I took your infirmity, and freed you from the stone.” She absently rubbed her cutie mark, and the sickle that had formed there.
“Would this experience involve a certain dark magic artifact?” Clover asked.
“No, that was before this, though Trixie has had her share of experience with the artifact you speak of.” She seemed almost to shrink in on herself. “Trixie may have been smart about history and endurance, but she wasn’t very smart about her pride. She, that is, I . . . have learned my lesson from that. This was from an event that followed shortly after, when I was being held in New Unity pending charges for my crimes.”
“Trixie, I need you to cast that shield spell again, but on a smaller scale, just a small one around yourself. Can you do that for me?”
Trixie hesitated as her eyes darted left and right. “I . . . don’t know. Since then, my powers have been, well, let’s just say I’ve broken a lot of things trying to regain control again. I might accidentally shove everything in the room against the wall, and smash it with the force.”
“Trust me, Trixie,” Clover said. “Please.”
“I–” Trixie squirmed under Clover’s intense gaze, then finally sighed. “All right.” She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and slowly let it out as she gently released her magic, letting it flow slowly up the spirals on her horn, rather than releasing it in one go, as she had in the past. Eventually, the ball of light formed at the tip. Then the light began to spring out one streamer at a time, weaving itself like a spider’s web as she carefully controlled its release, before it broke from her horn, and rose to close itself into the shield. She risked opening one eye for a peek as the glow faded, and she firmly capped the well of her magic again, leaving only the slightest trickle to keep the shield going. “Is . . . is it over? Did I do it?”
Clover, who had started a spell of her own just as trixie started, ended hers with a shocked expression. “Trixie, has your magic felt any different lately?”
“I already told you it has, Clover. That’s why . . . why I’ve had to be so careful,” Trixie said as she dropped her gaze to stare at the flames, and how they caused the space bubble to sparkle and refract the light patterns across the room.
“Trixie, if Star Swirl could see you doing this, coming across this by accident, he’d eat his big tacky pointed hat!”
Trixie’s head turned so quickly, it nearly gave her whiplash. “Wh-what do you mean?”
“Regular Unicorn magic, as you know, is considered ‘light magic.’ And as you’re aware, there is also ’dark magic.’ These two branches are considered the absolutes of magic with no divergence. Trixie, you’ve disproved Star Swirl’s fourth law of magic. You’ve married the two schools.”
“Um, isn’t that a bad thing?”
“Do you feel like murdering someone? Are you planning a psychotic rampage or world domination right now?”
“No, but–”
“When you cast the spell, I did a scan for corruption. It’s not something even the best dark magic users can hide. You’re not being corrupted, Trixie.”
“Well, yes, but isn’t this power still dangerous? I used to hardly be able to do the most basic tricks. Now Twilight says I’m as powerful, if not more so, than she was before she became an Alicorn. I don’t want to risk hurting anypony else,” she said as the shield faded and the tears ran down her cheeks.
“Then that's why you need to train,” Clover said consolingly as she wrapped a hoof around Trixie’s cape. “This is a whole new field of magic, Trixie. You’ve practically written your page in history already, and we haven’t even tested what you can do yet.”
“Test?” Trixie looked a little frightened as she looked into Clover’s eyes. She knew that look well. She’d seen it on Twilight’s face after the magic test results had come in.
“We’re going to stretch your limits, see the limitations of this gray magic of yours.”
“Arte.”
“What?”
“Twilight Sparkle called it the Gray Arte.”
Clover placed a pondering hoof to her muzzle. “I guess, in truth, neither of us can claim to name this. Technically, you should be the one to name it.”
“Arte, magic, aren’t they both just fancy terms meaning the same thing? It’s a new style of spellcraft, right? One that’s unique?”
“One that's currently unique to you,” Clover said.
“To . . . me? Just me?” Trixie fiddled with her hat as she mulled those words over.
“The last recorded instance of anything similar was a foal over three thousand years ago, and, sadly, Unicorns back then were less curious about the potential, and more fearful of it.”
“That–that’s amazing!” Trixie gushed as she leapt to her hooves. “You’re telling me that Trixie could become the foremost expert in this new field of magic? Write books? Craft new spells? Trixie really can be famous?”
“Yes, Trixie,” Clover chuckled. “You will be famous.”
The squee that filled the castle halls would rival even that of Rarity as it echoed and rebounded, shaking the very windows, and shattering the replacement window that had been brought in after Hammer Strike had slammed Chrysalis through the last one.
The night was calm and restful as Big Guns lumbered his way through the forest. He casually flexed a bicep, then felt along his horns, which he had taken the extra effort to polish and shine, before heading out. The plants seemed almost to whisper as he passed them, and if he took the time to stand completely still, he could almost hear voices. But perhaps hear wasn’t the right word so much as feel. It was difficult to describe. He snorted, and shook his giant head. He wasn’t coming through these woods on a pleasurable stroll, though he might consider coming through another time to fight a manticore. That actually sounded like fun.
“Big Guns would smash puny creature’s tail to bits. Then he’d smash manticore.” He grinned, then shuddered, and shook his head, doing his best to throw off the remains of the battle lust that had taken him during the siege. “This isn’t you, Big Guns. Pull yourself together,” he muttered as he passed by the totems, and into the clearing that was Zecora’s home. He paused to look at the craftsmanship, and felt a strange sense of longing as he touched the wood, and ran his fingers over the contours of the carvings. Again, he heard the whispers. Again, he felt the drums surging in his blood. He jerked his hand away like he’d been burned, then laid it on his war hammer for support. Its cool wooden shaft warmed against his touch, and he felt a sense of comfort, if not peace. It would suffice for now.
He made his way to the pool next to the tree that was literally a house, and washed his face to cool his hot blood. As the cool autumn breeze blew over his fur and mane, he enjoyed the sensation of it brushing his fur, while his tail swayed back and forth. Finally, he approached the heavy door, took a deep breath, and knocked. Zecora was prompt to answer, and her motherly smile was a welcome sight.
“Big Guns, what a pleasant surprise. Come in. Come in. Please, don’t be shy.” Zecora clopped back in to tend her cauldron, where an herbal brew bubbled.
“Zecora, I–.”
“There’s no need to speak. I know what you seek.” She sighed as she held a pair of bowls, and ladled the mixture into them. “You’re just in time to sup with me. These kinds of discussions are best held with tea.”
“Um . . . Thank you,” Big Guns said awkwardly as he took the larger of the two bowls. It seemed to be specifically crafted with Minotaurs in mind.
“Drink. Be calm. Collect your thoughts. Then we can discuss the . . . cure you have sought.”
The pair drank together, Big Guns sitting cross-legged, Zecora sitting on her rump. She cast her eyes around the room, then back to Big Guns, who looked significantly more relaxed, even as he removed his weapons, and placed them carefully beside him.
“You know that you changed, and you understand why, but the greater consequences yet are nigh.”
Big Guns furrowed his brow. “What do you mean?”
Zecora sighed. “Magic is a potent and dangerous force. When an object is changed, it must alter its course.”
Big Guns snorted. “I still don’t understand.”
Zecora sighed, then retrieved two diamonds from a cupboard, and placed them on the ground before them. “These two pieces look similar, but are not truly the same. They have different strengths, different forms, different names.” She took the two shards, and crushed each onto the floor with a hoof. A grinding crackle filled the air, and as she removed her hooves, the one stone remained intact, while the other had been shattered and ground to powder. She carefully swept the powder up, and placed it into a box.
“So what’s your point?” Big Guns took another sip of his tea, and watched intently. He felt a growing sense of impatience, but he knew better than to let that overtake him here.
Zecora waved a hoof over the box. When she opened it, the glass facsimile was whole once again. She passed it to Big Guns, along with its partner, the diamond. “Do as I just did before. Try breaking them both upon the floor.”
Big Guns was skeptical, but knew better than to question the wise Zebra mare. He placed them gently on the floor, then rose to his full height, and placed a hoof on each one. He was ginger at first, but as he added weight, the expected crack never came. He heard no tinkling, no grinding, only the steady numb pressure of the two items pressing against his hooves. Finally, he stood on top with his full weight bearing down on the stones. Nothing happened.
“What did you do?” Big Guns asked in awe as he picked up the stones, and returned them to her. The fingers in his left hand tingled as he held the stone there.
“The gem you hold within that hand was once nothing more than melted sand. It is glass no longer. That is not its name. Its new nature is diamond. It is no longer the same.”
“Not the same. . . .” A cold dread clutched at Big Guns’ stomach.
Zecora nodded. “To change the form is to change the nature, be it stone, be it glass, be it flower . . . or creature.”
The dread developed claws, and dug itself a pit. “So you’re telling me–.”
Zecora nodded. “The longer you stay within this form, the more you will act like a Minotaur born. Your nature is changing to fit the new norm.”
“Isn’t there some way to stop it, to hold it back or something?” Big Guns pleaded, even as he struggled to stop the dread’s progress, to fill the hole in, or find some sort of light at the end of the tunnel.
“Zecora shook her head sadly. “To change your form is to change in all ways. Such is the price that you chose to pay.”
Big Guns slammed his fist angrily onto the table, and smashed it into splinters, then looked in horror at what he’d done. “I . . . I didn’t even feel that.”
“Minotaurs are born with thickened hide. The better to protect their warrior’s pride.” Zecora sighed as she placed a consoling hoof on Big Guns’ arm. “Your urges are nothing to be ashamed. Your heart is still kind, and that part will remain. I will help you transition as best I can, until help can arrive from my native land.”
“What help?” Big Guns asked warily, even as he struggled to keep the red of his anger at bay.
“The Zebras and Minotaurs were once long divided, but our cultural gaps were not quite so widened. We both had our shamans who helped keep the peace. I’ve asked one to come to give you release. He will help you adapt, and move past your unease.”
Big Guns held his burly arms close to his chest as he looked back and forth between the Zebra and the remnants of her table. “I didn’t ask for this, Zecora. I wanted to be strong, but . . . not like this.”
Zecora laid a hoof against one of his biceps, and rubbed it consolingly. “I know, child. I know.” Big Guns collapsed into a sobbing heap as Zecora ran her hooves along his back in slow circular motions to calm him down. “I know.”
After they had eaten, the President himself had declared he would show Hammer Strike their industry forges, which Hammer Strike found out about later on while riding on the back of a scorpion the size of a truck down a long stretch of cavern.
“I never would have expected scorpions,” Hammer Strike muttered just loud enough for Vital to hear him.
“Neither did I. I feel like Theseus in Clash of the Titans,” Vital Spark whispered back.
“Ah, Margaret’s a big old pushover, aren't ya, girl?” The Dwarf leaned forward, and patted the chitin plate beneath him. The scorpion chittered happily. “As long as ya don’t touch her youngin’s. Real maternal types, scorpions are.”
“Didn’t know that,” Hammer Strike replied as he looked at “Margaret.”
The ride was mostly silent from then on, until they finally reached the forging chamber. The cavern wasn’t as massive as the city one, but it was still very large. Smaller scorpions skittered about carrying large baskets full of different ores and ingots draped on their backs. Smelters dotted as far as the eye could see at fifty foot intervals, while lines of forging stations covered the area in between. At most of them, teams of two or three Dwarves worked on various projects; however, most astonishing to Hammer Strike were the steam-powered hammers operated by a single Dwarf occupying multiple stations. A molten metal waterfall glowed in the back of the space, giving light and natural heat as the dwarves continued to ply their craft.
“Welcome to the forge,” the President said as he hopped off Margaret's back, and offered the scorpion a piece of rancid meat he’d kept in a special airtight carrying device at his side. The scorpion chittered with delight as she took the meat, and devoured it.
“The molten material-fall is quite the nice touch,” Hammer Strike commented as he dismounted.
“The slag metal goes from the smelters to the falls, where it sends the less useful material down to a volcanic chamber below ground,” the Dwarf explained. “The same chamber connects to where we keep the steam generators that power our city, so nothing's really wasted.”
“Clever.” Hammer Strike nodded. “What’s your current list of materials? Just the uncommon ones, none of the common ones.”
“Let's see. We got platinum; adamantian steel; cobalt; vocanum; bloodstone, though not much of it; silverite; veridium; and even a few scattered bits of dragon bone we’ve unearthed, though we haven’t been able to shape it.” The Dwarf shrugged. “Other than that, it’s just your average pretty metals. Gold, silver, those kinds of useless things.”
“Don’t blame you for being unable to shape dragon bone. I’ve broken more than a dozen anvils in my spare time.”
“Our smiths are always trying to figure it out, though. If they ever did, they’d be able to make weapons, armor, or tools that would be unrivaled.”
“Until the next best thing is found.” Hammer Strike chuckled.
“There’s something stronger than dragon bone?” Vital Spark asked, surprised.
“Bound to be. I mean, there could always be unobtainium.” Hammer Strike shrugged.
“If we can’t obtain it, then what use can it be?” the Dwarf asked.
“You see, you’ve got to work around the name to figure that one out.”
“Anyway, this is where we produce everything needed to keep the city running. We make the majority of the miners’ pickaxes, the goblets and cutlery for the city, the sections of piping, and anything else you need to make out of metal. Most families keep a small forge in their homes for smaller things, but we generally only allow the master smiths near the rarer metal stocks for special projects,” the Dwarf explained as he lead them through the cavern.
“What kind of special projects are we talking about? Because if one of them is an impressively made anvil–,” Hammer Strike started, “–I would love to hear about one of those.”
“Thats a problem we’ve been trying to solve for generations. Our master smiths seem to go through anvils like good ale.”
“One day, it will be made.” Hammer Strike sighed. “One day. Just not today, it seems.”
Vital Spark patted Hammer Strike consolingly on the back. “At least you don’t have to work on that ursa armor again, right?”
“Ursa armor?” the President asked.
“Ursa bone in particular. I made it for Luna. One of the best armor sets I’ve made.”
“The blue pony from the surface?” the Dwarf asked.
“Taller than most Ponies with wings and a horn, yes.”
“We’ve had Dwarves explore the surface from time to time, but they’ve been sworn to secrecy about details that might be . . . upsetting to the public eye. We’re a stubborn people. Baby steps, and all that.”
“Understandable.” Hammer Strike nodded. “Question. Would that be the reason I would feel someone watching me every now and then?”
“We’re a fair bit more stealthy than some would believe.” The Dwarf chuckled as he led them to an offshoot of the main chamber, the inside of which contained only a few forges with Dwarves working at them. Each had a large gold band on their foreleg.
“Oh, I’ll believe it.”
They approached one of the workstations, where a surprisingly young Dwarf was working. Hammer could tell she was younger, because she was smaller with less burns on her fur, and her actions were a lot more animated. Rather than a full sized forging hammer, she was wielding a smaller detailing hammer. As Hammer Strike got close, he realized what she was working on were engravings to a large, and rather intricately designed weapon.
The warhammer stood almost four feet long with a haft made of polished platinum, the top of which looped around the head of a large rectangular slab of quartz sandstone, which had been banded at both ends by a strange crystalline blue material Hammer Strike didn’t recognise at first, until he realized it was sapphire. The sapphire bands were connected by criss-crossing wires of silverite. His symbol stood proudly on the broad faces of the hammer. The shaft itself had been covered in a leathery material that couldn’t quite be identified on sight. The pommel ended with a large bloodstone spike that stuck out lethally. Runes had been engraved on every visible metal surface with two more large sapphires inlaid directly under where head and pommel connected. The Dwarf smith was just finishing her own set of runes on the last smooth piece of metal, when she noticed Hammer Strike, Vital, and the President standing in her workspace. Her face was a mix of emotions as she took in the three figures. First came anger, then annoyance, then fear, and, finally, awe. At last, she stepped away from her work, and gave a short bow.
“It humbles me that you graced my forge with your presence, Blue Lard. I am Alainna.”
“Alianna had just received her mark of mastery, and as all masters have done, she was adding her touch to the hammer,” the Dwarf said.
“That is an impressive amount of work,” Hammer Strike commented as he looked over the weapon.
“We named it Ulcrusher, but we don’t pressure you to keep the name, if it’s not to your liking. This is truly a momentous day for our people,” the President said.
“I am honored to be the last smith to leave a mark on the hammer,” Alianna noted.
“I feel like I just missed something.” Hammer Strike blinked a few times. After a moment, realization hit him like a truck-sized scorpion. “Oh. Ooh. Woah.”
“Please.” The Dwarf smith waved to the hammer. “It’s been waiting for you for generations.”
Hammer Strike reached forward and grabbed the hammer. He lifted it off the table, and tested its weight, noting that it weighed about as much as his ‘personal’ equipment. Looking it over a few times, he couldn’t help but smile at the amount of work that had been put into this single weapon. “Does there happen to be something to test this out on? Perhaps a training dummy?”
“We have dummies and a training ground back at the city, but if you're itching for a test run, perhaps one of the anvils?” the President said, gesturing to the pile of spares waiting to be used.
“Strike the anvil?”
“It’s alright. We’ve got more.”
“Wow. I actually get to witness Hammer Strike perform a hammer strike. Who'd've thunk?” Vital Spark said with a chuckle.
Hammer Strike sighed. “Alright,” After a moment, he moved over to said anvil, and prepped the hammer. The grin was still strong on his face as he raised the weapon, then brought it crashing down with what probably was more force than he should have. A loud booming crunch rang through the entirety of the Dwarven city as all those nearby Hammer Strike were blown back. As soon as the group was able to recover, and the situation was explained to those that suddenly entered the chamber, they were able to note that the point of impact was very obvious, as the indent in the floor would show. That, and the fine powder of the once solid anvil. Meanwhile, in Hammer Strike’s hooves, the hammer was still solid, and bore no flaws.
“Does Ulcrusher please you?” the President asked, grinning.
“Oh yeah, it does,” Hammer Strike nodded.
“Then take it as a gift from our people, and perhaps a payback on the interest for the loan of your tools.”
“I wish I had this in the fight with Chrysalis. Would have made things easier. But I am very impressed.”
“Come with me, Blue Lard, and I’ll show you where we keep the schematics next.” The President laughed heartily as he led him onwards.
“I am almost visibly showing excitement to see this.”
“Hammer Strike, you are showing visible excitement,” Vital Spark pointed out. “It’s about time, too.”
Pensword stood in a small offshoot of the hatchery, and looked at where Silver Spear remained suspended in the medical fluids. He frowned as he mulled over what had brought him there in the first place. Me-Me had told him there was a problem, and considering whose life hung in the balance, he rushed there immediately. He absently finished looking over the final reports from the battle. It had only been a day or two since the battle, and he was still trying to get a good grip on just what happened.
“Are you okay?” Me-Me asked as she entered.
“Getting a list for all the lives lost.” He sighed as he turned, and gave a Thestral bow. “On behalf of the Equestrian Military, I give my thanks, and convey my sorrow for the loss of your warriors.”
“They were only a first attempt,” Me-Me said clinically. “I have found several problems within the strain that I originally missed, and am already working on a solution.” Her tone was somewhat cold and unattached as she spoke.
Pensword nodded his head. From what he’d seen, that was how Changeling mentality tended to work, if Chrysalis was any indication, though he found that particular sentiment rather unsettling when considering where that might go. He quickly nipped that thought in the bud as he returned his focus to Me-Me specifically. “I still give my sympathy.” He looked back to the healing tube. “Your agent informed me that you needed to talk to me about Silver Spear?”
“Yes. First off, his injuries were more extensive than we first believed. He had taken several heavy impacts to the skull that may have led to minor brain damage. He also sustained severe nerve damage to his right eye. I have little doubt that the process will be able to heal these injuries; however, there may be . . . side effects.”
“What side effects exactly?” Pensword asked. “If you say death. . . .” He trailed off as so many different commercials from Earth played out that made the drug sound worse than the symptom.
“You have to understand this process was something made for Changeling drones when they’ve been injured, Pensword. While I do not doubt it can save Silver Spear’s life, I can’t guarantee the repaired tissue will be completely Unicorn in nature.”
“Because of the more severe injuries?” Pensword’s brow furrowed. “Do you foresee any other side effects? Because I want to be clear. I want him to live. If he gets angry, he can take it up with me.”
“He may end up–.” She stopped short for a moment, before steeling herself. “Given the brain damage, the repaired tissue may result in his mind being linked to ours,” she said.
Pensword stopped. He mulled it over, before looking at Silver Spear. His tone was determined, albeit a tad pained. “You may be having your first Hive General, then. You wanted Equestrian tactics. Now you’ll get them.”
“This was never my plan,” Me-me said defensively.
Pensword sighed. “I know it wasn’t your plan, Me-Me, but Faust seems to deem it a blessing for your hive. I just have one request. If, as you believe, he becomes a part of your hive mind, please make sure he becomes a General, not a drone.”
“It is my hope that, with work, I will be able to modify this procedure for all species. I’ve already seen how the nutrient chains connect differently, and I’m beginning to understand Equestrian biology better. Maybe next time the cost of saving a life need not be so severe.”
“Let us hope so.” Pensword nodded. “But I will be working on what to tell the troops when Silver Spear wakes up.” He paused. “Seeing as he is medically like this, I will have to gather his personal affects, and have them transported to your hive. Something isn’t sitting right with me as I think back on it.” He shook his head to clear his mind.
“His will to live is truly unheard of. Didn’t he disappear in the second day of combat?” she asked.
“He would make most military humans proud to know his will to survive is so strong, which is why I jumped at your offer. It would be wrong for me to throw away that kind of spirit by doing nothing.” He looked at Silver Spear. “I will make sure that his last Equestrian Rank is Colonel.”
“Well, I thank you for having one of the live drones brought down here. The . . . interrogation was quite useful into the way mother makes her drones.”
“That does bring up a few questions, actually. Won’t your hive mind be a little unsettled as you incorporate your sister into its structure?” Despite his best efforts, a twinge of guilt still showed on his face. “And why use the present tense? Chrysalis is dead, isn’t she? We burned her body, and her head is mounted on a pike back at the castle.”
“Death will be an inconvenience to Mother, yes, but as long as she has a suitable egg that's yet to hatch, it won’t be the last of her, I imagine,” Me-Me said. “The body is a shell, like I told you. It will be a long time before she’ll be in a state to be a threat, but since Pupa hasn’t the experience or the power to cut off Mother’s ties to the hive mind, she will be around for many years yet.”
Pensword’s face grew grim. “Hammer Strike is not going to like that. I don’t like it much, either, but you're the Changeling expert. If you say she isn’t dead, then she isn’t dead. But I would like to know. How did she get over a hundred thousand troops so quickly?”
“You have to remember, Mother keeps as few sentient drones as possible to run her hive mind,” Me-Me explained. “She could posses any mind within her hive at will, and not feel guilty. I, myself, have to keep an empty-minded unhatched drone in stasis, incase of accidents. It is the way of things. The only way we die is if our royal daughters overpower us, and then kill us, or we lose our connection to the hive.”
“Well, I will be happy to know that you will be an ally for ages to come.” He looked back at Silver Spear. “Is . . . is he going to remember things, or will his personality change?”
“The portions of his brain in charge of memory suffered no major damage, so that aspect of him shouldn’t change. As for his personality, who can tell? You are not the same Pensword you were yesterday, and I will not be the same queen tomorrow. Our personalities are shaped by our lives. We are never the same as we were, nor will we ever be the same as we are. This is the way of things.”
“You have been spending time around the Philosophy Ponies, I am guessing?” He shook his head. “By your logic, I was not even Pensword a year ago.” He let loose a hollow chuckle. After all, they both know that was fairly close to the truth. “And in a way, I only carry on the memory of Matthew.” He shook his head. “But I firmly believe the core of our personality, the core of our being–” he put a hoof over his heart “–stays the same.” He smiled. “Thank you for your honesty, and for showing that my worries won’t be as bad as I first thought.”
“Most people don’t know this, but Silver Spear was always kind to my children when he ran into them in the fortress. Most ponies still avoid us, or give wary looks. When I offered to save him, it was not only your fear, but my children's urging that drove me to do it.”
“I did not know that.” Pensword gaped as he looked at Silver Spear, and smiled gratefully, sending some love towards the hive, and to Silver Spear. “You have made me proud, Silver. You took the heart of what it means to be united, and went to the natural conclusion. He would have made a good head of House Spear, but, now, I fear I will have to contend with his father, and whoever becomes his successor.”
“I’ll try to make his transition as easy as possible for him,” Me-me promised.
“Thank you. I know you will live up to your word, Me-Me.” Pensword nodded gratefully. “If any of us can figure out the black box in your hive, we’ll let you know. And if you figure out how to open it. You will let us know?”
“Of course.” She nodded. “I need to go now. I just finished the new soldier strain, and I need to go lay.”
“Of course. Is . . . is it okay if I have a small desk down here? I would like to keep an eye on Silver, and I still have paperwork that needs to be done.”
“I will see to it that one is brought down to you. Ask one of the attendant drones, should you need anything else.” Me-Me lowered her head respectfully, before turning to leave.
“Pensword returned the gesture, before finding an attendant to talk to about the request, and to be led back out of the hive to the surface. His expression darkened as he turned back towards the castle. He would return to see Silver again, but, for now, he had to find Grif and Hammer Strike. If Chrysalis was indeed still alive, then they needed to prepare for her next attack. The couldn’t afford to have so many losses again. He ground his teeth together. She would pay for the lives she had taken.
The Changeling hive in the badlands was relatively silent as the Changelings went about their business like a well-oiled machine. Suddenly, everything ground to a halt as every Changeling felt the sudden crash. Chrysalis’ mind scattered, leaving them without leadership, without guidance, without the driving force to work. Then came the gradual stirring as the wave from the crash receded. Slowly, the chaos melted back into order as the familiar presence grew. Their eyes sparked like a stuttering ignition. Then the machine started up again as the presence passed through each of them on its way through the constantly changing halls to the dungeon.
Light emanated from a floating point in the room with no sign of magic or any other force. The air around it seemed to shudder, warping with some power. A light hum filled the air as drones passed by it, and it would soften as they left. Those Changelings who bothered to listen would hear thousands of voices whispering, all of them in some language that existed at one point centuries ago.
Deep in one of the hidden cells, surrounded by drones loyal only to one Queen, stood a lone egg that had been tied to a glowing wall of green slime. Crystals jutted out from the walls. Some of them glowed bright green, while others were a dead black. Suddenly, the egg pulsed and bulged as the being inside it started to hatch. The membrane tore as a white grub-like creature broke from it. Like most changeling grubs, it had a fully formed face, and many tiny little legs; however, unlike the rest, this one had a set of ornate ridges on top of her head forming the start of what would eventually become a crown. Verbally, the creature let out a grating skree of a cry, but, inside the hivemind, Chrysalis reasserted her dominance.
<You. Drone! Bring me the royal jelly,> she ordered angrily. <And you! Find my daughter.>
<Of course, my queen,> the drone on the left spoke as it turned and left for the royal jelly stores.
<Your daughter hasn’t returned yet, my queen> the drone on the right said.
<What?>
<She hasn’t returned, my queen. We’ve had no report of her or her guards.>
The scream that followed rippled through the hive like a storm, both physically and mentally. The few intelligent drones cringed, while those that were operating on minor orders staggered in their steps from the sheer volume and rage.
Extended Holiday Ch 105: Brothers of the Mine, Rejoice! Act 15
The gold-enameled murals stretched on for miles as the great stone portal yawned open. One of the Dwarven guides struck a flint to the side, and ignited a long trail of pitch that traced from one torch to the next, lighting up the pathway, and revealing the twin set of rails that awaited. A massive rail cart sat in front of them with enough seats to hold up to twelve passengers. The seats were carefully carved out of a fibrous material that felt almost like wood, but more porous, and smooth. The cushions that had been placed felt a little lumpy, but they were soft, and somewhat bouncy to the touch.
“Are these . . . mushrooms?” Vital Spark asked curiously.
“Aye,” one Dwarf answered. “They grow big enough to make furniture from, and they're comfy to boot.”
“This cart system looks ingenious. Who designed the rails?”
“An inventor from two or three generations ago. Math BearDwarf.”
“And this hall has all of your history in it?”
“We try to keep an accurate record. We don’t record every time the President cuts a fart, mind you, but we get the important stuff.”
“How far back does the record go?”
“Three thousand years,” the Dwarf said proudly.
Vital whistled. “And you’ve been underground all that time?”
“Pretty much.”
“Okay, this is going to sound really stupid, and possibly crazy, but you Dwarves wouldn’t happen to have been crafted out of the rock of Equis itself, would you?”
“Depends on what you believe.” The Dwarf shrugged. “We don’t know how we were made exactly, but I doubt anyone can tell you that much. We’re born, we live, and we die.”
“Have your people always dwelled beneath the surface?”
“We’re not sure,” the Dwarf admitted. “We were forced from our homes a long time ago, and found our way here.”
“Forced? By who?”
“Unicorns.”
“Oh. That . . . would explain alot about some of the looks I was getting before Hammer Strike . . . explained things.”
“You didn’t think the hornheads got all that gold and jewels through honest work, did you?”
“Um, the ones I know do. Well, with some few exceptions,” Vital amended. “Some of those nobles up in Canterlot are real jerks. Don’t know them well, but I know of them.”
“This was before all that.” The Dwarf pointed to a spot on the wall they had conveniently been passing, showing the Dwarves working on the city, even as the ground around them was saturated in frost.
“So Celestia and Luna wouldn’t have even heard about you, unless the Pegasi or other Earth Ponies said something. I wonder why they didn’t,” Vital pondered.
“They likely thought us for dead. Didn’t realize the earth gets warmer the lower you get.”
“I would’ve thought you’d at least live on in legends, though. It’s like someone deliberately blotted you out. Then again, I suppose the Unicorn nobles wouldn’t like a stain like that on their record. It would make sense that they’d either clear the history books, or worse, use a memory spell to make people forget you entirely.”
“Well, I can’t know what our ancestors thought, but, to me, it seems for the best. We’ve come a long way without interference.”
“Clearly. So what other parts of your history did you want to show us?”
“Well what do you want to see? We have a very long history, and it’s still being painted, even as we speak. Right now, Dwarves are painting this conversation.”
“Seriously?” Vital Spark raised a quizzical eyebrow. “I know keeping a record is important, but isn’t going into this much detail a little extreme?”
“And if your god appeared to ye and you had a conversation with him, would you not record that?”
“. . . Touché.”
“We might need to wrap up this visit for now. I need to go seal the tunnels leading to New Unity from the Badlands. Can’t have anything make it’s way over here, but now I’ll make sure I leave a route open for here, unless you all want me to seal the surface tunnel?” Hammer Strike questioned.
“Oh, the tunnels have been cleared and sealed already, Blue Lard. Dinnae anyone mention we’ve been fightin’ the demons for days now?”
“I think that was mentioned, but it was when we first arrived, so, yeah. But that’s great, because I could use some rest for a change. Reopening wounds probably wouldn’t be a great idea.”
“They caught us by surprise, this time. One of these big brutes killed some yearling scorpions, before we knew what was going on. Of course, the the breeding age females went into a rage. It wasn’t a pretty sight, I’ll tell you. Either way, we’ve set up sentries, and planned out outposts. Nothing will be tunneling this way again. I can promise you that.”
“That is great news. Thanks.” Hammer Strike smiled. “I needed good news for a change.”
“Had we known they were going to attack you, or that you were back, we’d have sent our warriors to help you. It’s an oversight we won’t be making again.”
“Hopefully it won’t happen again. I killed off their leader, Chrysalis.”
“Still, if you want to head back, at least let us prepare a ride for you.”
“I can walk. Good for the legs, you know.”
“Carrying baskets full of the deeper ores to use as you see fit, and your hammer? And your steam spirit, likely, by the time you reach the surface?”
After a few moments, Hammer Strike sighed. “Good point.”
“Then it’s settled. We’ll set you up with three of our finest scorpions.” The Dwarf smiled proudly. “Make sure we get you a few eggs as well. That way you’ll be ready the next time some heathen dares attack you.”
“This is going to be interesting to explain to everyone in New Unity,” Hammer Strike commented wryly.
“Amen,” Vital agreed.
Pensword looked at the full moon that Luna had provided them, and back at the cemetery. They had buried the Thestrals, and the Unicorns and Earth Pony bodies were currently under cryo spells waiting for their families to arrive for their funerals. The Pegasi would conduct their ceremonies tomorrow. He looked sadly at the moon, and the graves, then broke out of his reverie as he saw one of the Thestrals walking up to him. “Yes, Moon Biter?”
“The clans were wondering if we should start moving lumber to rebuild.”
“Have them prepare the supplies at the edge of the forest. I got a bit of a chewing for building the last one without clearing it with all the boards the first time. I will speak to Lord Hammer Strike, and whomever he needs me to talk to.” He grimaced. “I won’t make the same mistake twice.”
“Sir, how many did we lose?”
“All said?” Pensword sighed regretfully, and shook his head. “From all sides, four hundred ninety five souls went to their reward.”
“I’ll . . . see to that lumber, Sir,” Moon Biter said somberly as she flew off.
Pensword nodded solemnly as he watched a Pegasus landing nearby, having been prevented from going further by other Thestrals. Luna was still passing over the new graves. A large number who had died were from her personal guard. Even as she walked on silent hooves, he could see her tears glittering in the moonlight. Pensword walked to the line, and nodded his head to the guards, before addressing the Pegasus. “Can I help you? It is far past your bedtime, flyer of feathers.” He paused, more than a little surprised at how easily he had slipped into the more traditional patterns of his upbringing. Being around the other Thestrals probably helped.
“Commander.” The Pegasus nodded. “I was speaking with some of the other Pegasi, and we were wondering if, that is, with your permission, of course. Well, we’d like to construct a hall of paragons here.”
Pensword’s train of thought immediately screeched to a halt. “I will need to take you to see Grif. He knows Lord Hammer Strike’s time table better, and he can get you in faster. I lead the troops, but he and his team run the city’s construction. I can take you to see if Grif is awake right now. I do not know when Lord Hammer Strike will return from taking care of the tunnels, but I assure you we will get you in as fast as possible.”
“Thank you, Commander,” the Pegasus said, nodding her head respectfully again.
“If you would follow me,” Pensword said as he took to the air. He waited for the Pegasus to follow. “What is your name?”
“Cross Breeze, Sir.”
“A pleasure to meet you, Cross Breeze,” Pensword replied. They flew on in silence for a time, until they drew near the compound, where they were soon meet by a Gryphon guard. “Is Grif awake, or should we come back in the morning?”
“The morning might be best, Sir,” the guard said frankly. “The clan leader has been working steadily from the moment that battle ended, and has only just now taken the time to rest.”
“I can understand.” Pensword nodded. “I have been falling more into my nocturnal side lately. My apologies.” He chuckled. “What time in the morning should we return?”
“How about first thing?”
“That works.”
It started with a dull rumble, and a dust cloud on the horizon rising out of the Everfree Forest. It only took moments for the guard to mobilize, and the alarm to be sounded. Something was approaching New Unity, and was making enough noise to be a stampeding herd of cattle. Arrows were prepared, archers stood at the ready, and mages prepared to weave the shield enchantment again, should the need arise. The Demos each held a set of granados just waiting to be lit and tossed from the battlements. Then two specks flew in, rapidly closing, followed by an incredibly annoying Jersey accent.
“Hey. Hey, guys! You’ve gotta see this!” the first of the Scouts hooted.
The second Scout laughed as they flew around Grenado and Charge. “Yo, Demos. I think you’ve got some family visiting! And get this. Hammer Strike’s their god!” Both Scouts fell into a fit a giggles as they clung to each other while they hovered in the air.
“What are ye talkin’ about, ya idiot!” Demolition Charge growled.
“Hammer Strike’s riding a bunch of giant scorpions like a freaking boss,” Forward Scout said. “Seriously, he’s got the whole flowing cape thing going for him with the way his coat catches in the wind. You couldn’t get any closer to epic hero if you slapped a sticker on him, and wrote it in permanent marker!”
“You know, they say our accents make us hard to understand,” Medic said, “but I never truly understand a word from his mouth.”
“Just smile and nod. It’s what I’ve been doing since we met,” Camoflauge said.
Espionage nodded in agreement. “All they ever want is attention.”
“Speak Equestrian, hippie!” Blue Soldier shouted.
“Lighten up, Blue,” Forward Scout said with a chuckle. “You’re crampin’ everyone’s style. Keep venting that hot air, and you’ll be up in the clouds with us in no time.”
Meanwhile, the Heavies remained oblivious to the whole interaction as they sat at the walls with their crossbows, nibbling on sandviches.
“Crikey!” Sniper Shot shouted. “Lord Hammer Strike’s riding this way on top of some bloody large scorpions. He looks right impressive like that!”
Demolition Charge looked at Forward Scout. “Now why didn’t ya just say that?” he said rolling his eye.
“We did!” both Scouts shouted in unison. “Stupid cyclops.”
“Yeah. Sure,” Demolition Charge said before turning to shout. “Stand down! It’s Hammer Strike!”
Visible signs of relief flowed throughout the compound. After the last great battle, they really weren’t well suited for a second assault, especially with morale so low after all the casualties.
“Also, he’s coming in on a pair of bloody huge scorpions, so prepare yourselves!” Demolition Grenado added a moment later.
The sound of deep, heavy horns heralded the arrival of the party, before they even passed the tree line. True to the rumors, three gigantic scorpions carried not only Hammer Strike and Vital Spark, but a sizable detachment of short, stocky Ponies, even by Pony standards. A series of baskets and satchels were safely secured to the creatures’ carapaces as they made their way to the bridge, before finally skittering to a stop, and lowering themselves to the ground for their handlers to dismount.
Pensword gaped at the event. “Giant Scorpions. Giant . . . Scorpions.” He groaned as he smacked himself on the forehead. “I am almost done with today, and the sun has only barely risen.”
“Well, that just means you weren’t lookin’ hard enough now, don’t it?” a voice called down from below. Both Scouts screeched to a halt in mid-flight.
“Uh, Demos, you guys wouldn’t happen to have been working on a ventriloquist act or somethin’, would ya?” Forward Scout ventured.
“Ah haven’t drunk enough for this yet,” Grenado said.
“We got some ale, if you’re interested, but ye’ve got ta open the gate first, ya idiots! Or have you forgotten how to be courteous to your lord in his absence?”
“Duncan!” Vital Spark chided.
“Ah’m just callin’ it like I see it is all.”
“Hey, idiots! Why ain’t the gate open?” Demolition Charge shouted to the gate house.
A pair of stallions stumbled out the door, before promptly passing out with a dazed smile on each of their faces. Big Guns approached them, took one big whiff, then snorted.
“Demos, did you leave them a gift when you two left the post for good?” he asked.
Pensword facehoofed. “Big Guns, you get that gate open right now. I’ll deal with this situation later. The Demos, and those two, are going to feel my wrath!” He looked to Grif. “Grif, we’ll have to do our meeting later. The long of the short is a Pegasus wants to build a hall of paragons, and we need to talk to Hammer Strike.” He promptly flew to the two soldiers in question, and jerked them to their feet.
“Yeah. I’ll talk to Hammer Strike,” Grif said. “Let’s sort this out.”
The portcullis was quickly raised, and the gates opened as Big Guns operated the devices responsible for each, and the party made their way inside the courtyard. A large barrel marked by two blue diamond pickaxes was quickly dropped onto the cobblestones as its contents sloshed about inside. The Demos both gaped at the sight, and a tear formed in Grenado’s good eye.
“I thought it was just a myth,” Grenado said.
“What? This? It’s just your standard ale. Nothin’ to get teary-eyed over, lads,” Duncan said pointedly.
“No.” Pensword stood between the Demos and their prize. “There has to be some form of punishment for getting my guards sloused. You’re not tapping that for a week,” Pensword finished with a glare. He turned around, and nodded to Hammer Strike. “Happy to see you made it back. And . . . you found friends. Why am I not surprised?” he half asked himself. “Anyway, there are a few things to take care of, but, seeing as we have visitors, I will be sure to get the guest quarters ready, and have some food prepared for our guests. It is good to see you.” He looked to the Unicorn. “Not too shaken up, are you, Vital?” He chuckled nervously, and kept his distance.
“Nah. Surprisingly, when they’re this big, they’re actually not that bad. Just don’t insult them or go after their hatchlings, and they’re actually pretty nice. I think Fluttershy would love to get to know these critters.”
“We could have used some of these guys during the battle,” Grif noted.
“Fair point. They probably would have enjoyed a little insectoid snack. Speaking of which, Hammer Strike, if you’re going to keep a few of these here, we’re going to need to train them not to eat any of Me-Me’s Changelings.”
“Yeah, it’s going to be interesting having giant scorpions here,” Hammer Strike replied.
“You’re the one who said you’d keep ‘em. I’m just saying,” Vital Spark pointed out.
Duncan shrugged. “We’ll just leave behind a couple of trainers to help teach your men how to raise them. It won’t be that hard, ya know, as long as they treat the babes right.”
“That’ll be useful. I’d prefer as little problems as we can have for raising them,” Hammer Strike commented.
“So, Hammer Strike, who’s your friend?” Grif asked as he pointed to the hammer on the stallion’s back.
“Ulkrusher. A gift from the Dwarves that’s been in the works for over a thousand years.” Hammer Strike grinned.
“Great. something else for me to keep an eye out for,” Pensword muttered. “Also, I need to see you and Grif when you both have a free moment. I’ve got some things to convey from some sources.”
“Alright.”
“So, what do you have here that passes for drink? My men and I are thirsty, and we’d like to try some of your . . . unique forms of liquid refreshment,” Duncan noted.
“Grenado, Charge, pull out whatever you guys have stored,” Hammer Strike called out.
The Demos let out a synchronized sigh as they headed to do so.
“That may well be the worst punishment of all for them,” Vital noted. “Having to watch their best brews being consumed before their very eyes without being able to enjoy a single drop. Seriously, Pensword, that’s downright diabolical.”
“Almost a war crime.” Grif chuckled.
“They could have killed those two,” Pensword rumbled. “They gave the borderline stuff. I can smell it from here.”
“Lack of alcohol might kill them.”
“I did say only the new ale. Nothing else. They have to wait a week for this new brew.”
“Just make sure you punish the idiots who drunk it equally as hard.” Grif chuckled. “Because honestly, you don’t need to be a genius to realize what that stuff is.”
“Oh, I have a few ideas involving toothbrushes, dungeons, and silk,” Pensword responded.
“Yeah. Get someone on these scorpions, and get our little friends set up. I’ll see about getting us some privacy,” Hammer Strike said.
Pensword sat, well-settled in his corner of pillows as he waited for the others to settle down in Hammer Strike’s office. He didn’t know how the others would react, so he had restricted this to just Hammer Strike, Grif, and himself. Lunar Fang knew already, but considering the nature of this particular piece of information, he knew it would be best to tell them before he sent the letters to Celestia and Luna.
“So what's with the cloak and dagger?” Grif asked as he settled down onto all fours, and casually rested his chin on his hand. Hammer Strike simply sat at his desk with his usual stern gaze.
Pensword sighed, and braced for the inevitable. “Queen Chrysalis is not dead.”
“What makes you say that?” Hammer Strike questioned. “Because, last I remember, I was the one who crashed through that stained glass window, and used a shard of it to cleave off her head.” A few stray sparks shot out from his hooves, and he promptly extinguished them with a hoof, before they could have the chance to damage any of his paperwork. He took a deep breath, and released. “So, what gives you the idea she’s still alive?”
“Because I talked to Me-Me. She informed me that, unless a Queen is cut off from her hive, she will be able to jump her mind to an unhatched larva in an egg, and morph herself into the new queen.” He groaned. “So, basically, the only way to really get rid of Chrysalis is to disrupt her link to her hive mind, kill her off, and hope she doesn’t have any backups. That, or get a princess who’s more power hungry than her mother to force a coup, and kill said mother.” Pensword rubbed an anxious hoof over his mane. “Meaning we could have the body count of ten queens, and she could still come back.”
“Well. That just made things harder.” Grif sighed.
“Just fantastic. One hundred percent delightful.” Hammer Strike exhaled heavily, and a cloud of steam hovered in the air, before gradually dissipating. “Any other bits of news?”
“Tell me about it,” Pensword said sympathetically. “I destroyed two dummies after learning that little fact. As for other news, we got a request to build a Pegasus hall of paragons. Also, I would like to formalize where to build the Thestral quarters, as the original structure was decimated, and burned during the siege.”
Hammer Strike shrugged. “Easy enough. We’ll look to the map, find the district, and follow the markers to known locations of open facilities.”
“That sounds good. When do you want to meet with the Pegasus representative for their building? I’ll look at the lands and get things situated, and get a copy of plans, so you can build around the longhouse. It is one of our most important community buildings.”
“Whenever I’m not busy with paperwork and repairs.” Hammer Strike shrugged. “I don’t know my schedule just yet. It takes a few days before I can actually get something down.”
“That's kinda the norm at the moment. We just had a battle, and I think it will take some time to get or–.”
“SIR!” Blast and Tower Shield broke into the room suddenly. “Sir, we have problems.”
“Can’t I get some good news for a change?” Hammer Strike muttered. “What is it?”
Pensword had jumped to his hooves, and was already on alert as his eyes roamed over the room, and ears flickered to catch any noise.
“They're coming. We just received the messenger. They heard New Unity was in a battle. They smell the blood in the water.”
Pensword looked worried. “One question. Is it an army marching towards us?”
“Worse,” Tower Shield groaned. “Nobles.”
“Ex Divinia Etiam. They’re going to want to change everything we’re doing.” Hammer Strike quickly joined his subordinates in an overly exaggerated groan that only the truly tried have ever managed to produce.
“Luna’s warhammer save us,” Pensword swore.
Grif let out a long stream of curses in Phrench.
Hammer Strike sat on the broken seat in the throne room. It had originally been suggested for him to use the intact throne, but something about what the broken throne symbolized called to him. The remains of the seat of power had been shifted to the center of the room, and Ulkrusher leaned against its arm beside him. The other throne had been removed entirely. A ragtag selection of Gryphon and Pony guards had been appointed, and placed in said throne room, armed with either a halberd or a spear. A representative of the Horses, the Kitsune, and the Dwarves, who had demanded to be part of the proceedings, stood off to the side.
On the dais, exactly six feet away from Hammer Strike on either side, Blast and Tower Shield stood in full armor. Grif stood on Hammer Strike’s right. He’d pressed for them to simply turn the nobles away, saying New Unity wasn’t sufficiently ready to receive them, but as Hammer Strike’s servants had pointed out, this would have resulted in all good will towards them, and to Luna’s bill, being lost.
Clover stood on Hammer Strike’s left, dressed in full formal robes. Her focus leaned familiarly against her body. Pensword and Vital Spark stood across from each other on the bottom step of the dais. Clover had decided, and Hammer Strike had agreed, if Vital Spark was going to be staying, he should learn to handle these kinds of proceedings.
“They’re only just entering the gate,” Grif said. “We can still send the vultures away.”
“It’s better to get this over with now, rather than later,” Hammer Strike replied as he rolled his eyes.
“Besides, I am sure we can use this to our advantage,” Pensword said.
“Just as long as that Cobble Pot doesn’t come, too. He gives me the creeps.” Vital Spark shuddered.
Grif was about to signal the door to be open, when, in a flash of magic, Twilight and her friends appeared in the middle of the throneroom.
“Maybe we shouldn’t jump so far next time, Twilight,” Spike commented as he wiped some soot from his tail.
Pinkie smiled at them faintly. Her coat was muted, and her hair was limp. Not straight, but limp. She walked to Hammer Strike, and ever so gently placed a cupcake on his lap. “I’m sorry about your friends,” she said, before backing away.
“Thank you,” Hammer replied after a moment as he put the cupcake off to the side. It wouldn’t be appropriate to eat it now.
Rarity approached, and took her place next to the throne. “If I’m going to be your fiance, then I’d best act like one. If you have to face these vultures, you’re not facing them alone,” she said pointedly. As part of her preparations for the meeting, she’d put on her ruby-studded earrings, and Spike’s fire heart ruby necklace. She nuzzled Hammer Strike gently, then waited.
“I guess the friendship court will be the first to send it’s regards over the battle,” Twilight said awkwardly, as if she wasn’t entirely prepared for this. “You know, Hammer Strike, if you need anything, just ask us. I know you probably don’t, and you won’t, but the offer’s still there.”
Hammer Strike allowed himself a small smile. This was perhaps one of the only genuine offers of aid without strings attached that he would be receiving in the coming days. “Thank you for the offer, but, yes, you are correct.”
“Hello, Hammer Strike,” Fluttershy said meekly. “Can we go now? I mean, if that’s okay with you. . . .”
“Go ahead.” Hammer Strike nodded his assent. “I know you’ll probably not want to stick around for what is to come.”
“Why not take her to see our new friends?” Grif said, signaling a Gryphon, and telling him to escort the gentle Pegasus to where the scorpions were resting via one of the side passages.
Rainbow Dash sighed. “Look, I know I’m pretty awesome and all that, but . . . I haven’t really had to do anything like this before. So, yeah. Basically, what they all said.” She walked over to Pensword then, and saluted. “Permission to help with cloud duty, Sir?”
“Permission granted,” Pensword answered crisply. “Go and make your family proud.”
Rainbow Dash saluted again, then zipped off to find the other Pegasi left in the units. They had clouds to gather, and barges to prepare.
“I can’t even begin to imagine what y’all are goin’ through right now, but if you need anything, don’t hesitate to give us a call. It’s times like these family’s gotta stick together, and like it or not, Hammer Strike, we’re like a family now, especially Grif over there,” Applejack said.
“How is my sister doing? Wedding plans going well?”
“I swear, if they keep up with all this plannin’ business, they won’t be married for another year!” Applejack chuckled. “Grannie’s gettin’ impatient for some great grandfoals to raise.”
“I’ll get Tall Oak to talk to her,” Grif promised, “but, for now, you should find a place to either watch or just wait this all out. We need to get this done as soon as possible.”
“You kiddin’ me? I’m stayin’ right here,” Applejack said stubbornly. “You’ll need someone who can tell when they’re lyin’, and you won’t get a better lie detector than me.”
“If you have an aneurysm, don’t blame me.” Grif chuckled. He lifted his claw, and signaled the guards to open the gate. The nobles were escorted into the throneroom in pairs by a guard. They would give their names and greetings, and some would even leave some small token of friendship. Hammer Strike, for his part, said nothing as they did so. When they finished, he would simply nod his head, and bang Ulkrsuher on the floor in a show of gratitude. In this way, when he was greeting a noble he was friendly with, he could make the hammer ring against the floor, but if he greeted a noble he didn’t trust, he could bang the hammer on the floor just a bit too hard, so that cracks would be left on the stone beneath, giving a clear message to any who would cause trouble. Four hours later, as the last of the nobles were shown in, everyone was tired, and the stone under Ulkrusher had been rendered to powder.
When it was done, Grif had discreetly managed to finish the speech he had been pasting together in his head.
“Good nobles of Equestria. On behalf of Lord Hammer Strike, I thank each of you for coming out to offer us your good will, and your regards for those we have lost. We realize the journey here was not a short trip, and, for many of you, it was only made longer by the current state of the Everfree forest. Please be assured we have enough troops to make sure you will each be escorted back to your place of rest safely. To those of you who so generously brought gifts, he adds his thanks a second time. Such things are unnecessary but it is good to see New Unity has such good friends. It seems most obvious that, with the current schedule of events here, my lord will be unable to give you all the immediate audiences you deserve. Therefore, if you would provide the Ponies you will find waiting outside the room with the topic of your stay, we shall sort you out appropriately, and my lord shall make time for you when it becomes available. Please remember, while you are in our grounds, to stay away from the construction you see about the walls, the buildings outside the walls, and the Thestral homes. Please also remember to avoid the Bladefeather compound, and the kennels. Thank you, my friends.”
“I also request that you avoid my troops and my office. If you have issue with me, or my troops, let the Ponies know, and I will make sure you are seen to this week,” Pensword said pointedly. He was not about to take any funny business when he had so many families to notify.
“And, of course,” Clover chimed in, “do not come around my labs, whether I am there or not. Do not tell me how powerful your foals are, and how much they’d be helpful as an apprentice. I am not accepting personal students at this time, and my current classes are for battle magic only.”
“So, without further adieu, my friends, we will disperse this meeting with our thanks. Good evening.”
Some few nobles tried to raise objections, only for a final authoritative blow from Ulkrusher to send them scurrying away.
“Huh, so that’s how you clean house,” Vital Spark said as he watched them flood into the hall, and out the main doors.
Vital Spark opened the door to Clover’s lab hesitantly. “Um, is it safe for me to come in?”
“Get in, before the wards push you out,” Clover ordered.
“He slowly shut the door. “You put up a warding spell?”
“No,” Clover said as the door slammed shut behind him. Several silver locks clamped shut, and then numerous chains of light bound the door. Frost and ice covered it moments later, and, finally, Vital heard a loud fwooshing sound, and somepony with a high class accent screamed about his eyebrows. “I put up several.”
“Huh. I could’ve sworn I shook that one,” Vital commented. “He’ll be okay, right?”
“You can live without eyebrows. It makes it really hard for people to tell your expression, but maybe he’ll find a use for that.”
Vital shuddered. “You may have given him one of the strongest weapons a noble could ask for, Clover.”
“Maybe, but I’ve also marked him, and sent a message.”
“Fair enough. How’s my baby doing?”
“Well, there has been some activity inside the egg. It seems like it could be ready to hatch soon.”
“Exciting.” He chuckled nervously. “Um, look, I just wanted to say I’m sorry if I upset you earlier. I, um, well, I don’t really know what to say, but . . . do you think it’s okay if I keep learning from you?”
“You’d better. Otherwise, who knows who they might try and stick me with.”
“I thought you had control over that.”
“Yes, but they’ll be lobbying me for decades.”
Vital Spark chuckled, and hugged her. “Thanks. I actually missed you guys a lot. If it wasn’t for Pinkie Pie, I probably would’ve had a breakdown back on Earth.”
Clover smiled for a moment, before breaking out of the hug, and turning back to the egg. “Anyway, I’m still having trouble finding the proper hatching stimulus.”
“Have you witnessed phoenix eggs hatching before?”
“Once, on a research experiment with Star Swirl.”
“What was it like?”
“It was beautiful.” Clover smiled. “The parents sung to the eggs as the sun was rising. They started to hatch just as the sun hit them.”
“I’m guessing this was fire phoenixes, right?”
“Yes.”
“So wouldn’t it make sense that a similar stimulus would likely work on an ice phoenix egg, only with something related to ice, instead, like the first snow of winter, or maybe something to do with the winter solstice?”
“That’s a viable theory.” Clover nodded.
“So wait till the first snow of winter, I guess, and sort of go from there?” He shivered as a sudden blast of cold emanated from the egg, covering his fur and mane in icicles. “Aww, it m-m-m-missed me,” he chattered.
“I guess so.” Clover couldn’t help but chuckle.
“Vital laughed with her as he turned the crystals to snow, and shook off the excess. “All right. Let’s get to work.”
Pensword kept his emotion stoic as he waited. Baron Sharp Spear had demanded to speak to him, and, regrettably, it had been a request as a noble to a noble. Sometimes, it was very annoying having to juggle being both a military commander and a high ranking noble. The field of battle was far more invigorating in combat, than it was crossing metaphorical swords by exchanging words. Fortunately, his higher status at least allowed him to decide the location for this meeting. As such, Pensword had selected his office. If he had to engage in a war of words, this would be the best place to do it from. Now he just had to wait for the baron.
There was a knock at his door, and Preston opened it. “He’s here.”
Pensword nodded his head in acknowledgement, and Preston left. A few moments later, the door opened again, and the light blue Unicorn with a blond mane walked in, dressed in frills, and an overcoat. He quickly approached the desk with neither invitation nor ceremony.
“How can I help you, Baron Sharp Spear?” Pensword asked.
“You can start by telling me where my son is,” Sharp Spear said brusquely. It was clear he wanted to establish a sense of control in the conversation from the beginning. “I’ve been searching all over this ruin of a keep, and I can’t find him anywhere. He doesn’t answer my letters, he doesn’t scry, and, to be perfectly frank with you, Commander Pensword, he should have been transferred back to Canterlot by now. Now where are you keeping him? I demand to see him immediately.”
Pensword’s heart nearly stopped as the impact of those words struck him full force. “I am sorry, Baron.” His voice caught in his throat. He swallowed. “But if your son did indeed receive orders of that nature, then he hid those papers from me, and kept at his post of his own volition. He led no less than five incursions against the Changeling droves during the siege, and rallied the troops from the beginning to the very end. He has been an exemplary soldier in every way.” He sighed and shook his head. The baron still hadn’t taken a seat.
“Baron, I must insist that you sit down before we continue.”
“I will not, Sir!” Sharp Spear proclaimed as he slammed an angry hoof onto the floor.
Pensword steeled himself, forcing an impartial mask to cover his face as he struggled to keep the pain contained. No matter how many mares and stallions he had lost, it always was the hardest telling direct members, even if said members were pompous, arrogant buffoons like Sharp Spear.
“Baron.” Pensword’s voice was gentle, and very quiet. “The reason you can’t find your son is because he is currently going through intensive surgery to save his life.”
Sharp Spear stopped cold. “He’s what?”
Pensword pursed his lips as he struggled to keep his thoughts organized, and anticipate what the baron would try to pull next. “I said that your son is in critical condition, Baron Sharp Spear. Right now, he is fighting for his life in a stasis chamber designed by our allies to help him recuperate as they work to repair the damages.”
“You’ve got to be joking. My son would never–”
“Never what, Baron?” Pensword cut in. His tone had grown cold, his pupils slitted. “Never risk his life for another? Never fight to protect honor, kingdom, family?” Pensword could not deny the sense of satisfaction he felt when Baron Sharp Spear flinched. “Your son knew the risks, and, like it or not, he chose to stay. I cannot change that, nor can I control that he somehow intercepted these orders, and prevented them from reaching me. But I warn you right now, each and every guard that serves in my units is a son and daughter to me. So I would be very, very careful right now about choosing your next words, Baron, because I know Silver Spear, as does practically every guard serving here at New unity. He is one of the bravest, most courageous, selfless nobles I’ve ever known, and none of us will allow that good name to be besmirched. Not even by his own father.”
Baron Sharp Spear gulped. His legs trembled as he struggled to retain his composure. “I . . . I would like to see him,” he finally rasped.
Pensword sighed, and shook his head as he rubbed a tired hoof over the bridge of his muzzle. “I’m sorry, Baron Sharp Spear. Truly, I am, but I cannot take you to see him. He’s in too precarious a state, and the nature of the equipment is too precious for me to expose you to it without the proper security clearance.”
“But he’s my son!”
“I know, Baron. I know. I can’t change the rules, though. Now, more than ever, we have to tighten our security against invading forces, and that means a strict adherence to the protocols we have laid to protect New Unity’s intelligence and magitech.”
“That’s not good enough!” the baron yelled as a paperweight flew off Pensword’s desk to slam into the wall, leaving a significant dent, before clattering to the floor.
Pensword did his best to remember the stallion wasn’t being deliberately disrespectful. At least, he tried to convince himself of that, to give Sharp Spear the benefit of the doubt as he slowly trotted over, and picked up the weight. He turned sadly as he trotted back to his chair, and replaced the item. Then he heaved a heavy sigh. “It’s the best I can do, Baron. Right now, the most constructive thing you can do is pray for your son at the nearest chapel. Faust willing, he’ll pull through. I will send a letter to you as soon as I receive word that his status has changed. Our joint staff has every confidence that he will be able to recover, but every contribution helps.”
“But–”
“Please, Baron.” Pensword came around the desk, and placed a hoof on Sharp Spear’s shoulder. “For once in your life, have faith in something other than your wallet. Your money won’t be able to change this outcome, whatever it may be, and neither will your position. I will personally have Rainbow Dash alert you as soon as Silver Spear is ready for visitors . . . or the other. The moment something changes, you will know.”
Sharp Spear’s body trembled. He swallowed once, twice, thrice. At last, he managed to rasp out a couple of words. “My son.” For the first time in Pensword’s memory, and perhaps in Thestral history, he witnessed a noble take off his mask to bear his true emotions as tears welled up in the noble’s eyes. Pensword took the stallion in a gentle embrace, and Sharp Spear wept openly onto his shoulder.
Cross Breeze’s honey tail flicked nervously in the crisp morning air as she adjusted her mane. The sun was barely rising above the treelines, starting to wash away the dead grays of twilight for the bright pastels that had always been so cheerful before the attack. Now it rose over the new graveyard that had been dedicated to the fallen. She sighed sadly, and turned away from the window to trot down the halls. She couldn’t allow herself to be late to her appointment. Her azure coat had been carefully groomed, and she’d made sure to polish her hooves to a shine to make the best impression possible. At last, she reached the door she’d sought, took a steadying breath to compose herself, then knocked.
“Enter.” Hammer Strike’s voice carried loud and clear.
She made sure that the request was under her wing as she pushed the door open, and entered the office. Chalkboards with diagrams littered the space. Papers with the layout for the city, both ancient, current, and future had been plastered on three boards over in a corner near a window. Parchments and scrolls with indecipherable texts and strange calligraphy lay in a hodgepodge mess over the floor, and bursting out from shelves. And there, sitting behind his desk, in the center of this perfectly organized chaos, was the Pony lord himself.
“Good Morning, Lord Hammer Strike.”
“Good morning. So, I was told you had a request?”
“Yes, from our living caretaker of all paragons,” she answered. She put the scroll onto his desk. “She wishes your permission to build a hall of paragons, as was once housed in this great city. So far, only two such halls exist in Equestria. The first lies in Canterlot, and the other is the original in Cloudsdale. It’s her hope to make New Unity the third. She is more than willing to pay you for the land, and to build in a spot suitable for your city planning, but, as a tribe, we would also like to request that, at the very least, a stone be used and engraved to mark the location of the original Paragon Hall, when it is found.”
Hammer Strike looked over a few of the diagrams from the city layout. After a moment he hummed. “All right. Do you happen to know the dimensions of the structure, or would it be adjusted based off the location?”
“The dimensions are in the scroll, and we’ve also included variations based on potential locations. There will be several smaller personal shrines, some of which will be built directly into the building, like with the Hurricanes’ manors but aside from that, it all depends on what you feel this city deserves.”
Hammer Strike opened the scroll, and looked it over a few times. “All right; I think we can work with this.” He looked over to the diagrams of the city once again, humming in thought. “Okay. The only problem I have with this is the location isn’t entirely marked yet, but I can push the builders to mark this district now, so this project can be started. Just keep inside the markers, and it’ll be just fine when roads are paved, and everything is assigned.”
Cross Breeze’s eyes widened with excitement. “Really? Oh, that's wonderful! We’ll have our workers arrive within the week to begin work. Thank you so much! We’ll have one of our statue carvers come to take your sketch once the project is finished.”
“That isn’t needed.” Hammer Strike assured her. “I don’t want to be immortalized in stone. If you have to give me credit, just a small plaque will do. With that settled, though, are there any other projects or questions you have for me?”
“Might I suggest a compromise?”
“I’m listening,” Hammer Strike said with a curious brow raised.
“It’s traditional for a statue of the founders, or those in authority, to be placed in front of the building. Celestia and Luna’s statues stand together outside the hall in Canterlot, and a statue of our founding paragon stands outside the hall in Cloudsdale. However, since you don’t want such a large fuss over it, how about we have one of our students carve the statue, instead of our artisans? It gives the student the opportunity to learn, and you won’t have to worry about the paparazzi coming after you, either. As for our other plans and ideas, I’ll leave that to the builders talk to you about the Pegasus Quarters.”
Hammer Strike sighed as he mulled the proposition over. Finally, he caved. “Alright,” he sighed, “but only if it’s the student, alright? And no fanfare, either. I get enough of that every time I visit Canterlot.”
“Of course, Sir. Thank you. I’ll inform the Pegasi they’ll arrive in the next three days,” Cross Breeze replied with a bow. “Thank you for allowing us this chance to preserve our history and our culture for the next generation.”
“No problem.” Hammer Strike shrugged, and immediately got back to work.
There was a knock on Hammer Strike’s door, and Grifs voice carried through. “Uh, you're going to want to see this.”
“Is it bad or good? Because I could really use something good.”
“Well several dozen Thestrals just walked in the gates hooked to as many carts. They’re asking for you, and it seems Pensword's not entirely sure what's happening. Then again, he hasn’t been seen all morning.”
“Alright. I’ll be out in a moment.” Hammer Strike sighed as he stood up from his chair, and made his way out of his office.
The two wove their way through the corridors, and out to the courtyard, where many Ponies had stopped to look at the caravan with interest.
The Thestrals all stood with furs and skins tied to poles to form makeshift sleds that dragged behind them. The items were covered with other furs, and six Thestrals pulled a new-looking cart that was so large it needed two axles to keep it stable. They stood arrayed and silent, their eyes glowing in the dying light, and their leathery wings folded at their sides. They all looked upon their Chieftess as moondust slowly drifted around her, showing just how recently she had appeared in the courtyard. Hammer Strike strode swiftly and surely towards her amidst the whispers from the new arrivals.
“So what’s going on?” Hammer Strike asked.
A Thestral stepped forward. A wolf’s head was draped over his head, and the pelt covered his body. His fangs were slightly more pronounced than other Thestrals. “I, Flury Fang of the Wolf Tribe, who speaks for Thestrals, have brought these gifts for you, he who forged our chieftess’ armor, who taught her what was needed to craft her war hammer. We offer you this gift, as only one as yourself could use them to their fullest potential.” He snapped open his right wing, and the covers were removed with a flourish. The sleds were covered in smaller Ursa bones, while the cart held the larger, along with the beast’s pelt.
“So that’s what happened to the Ursa’s remains,” Hammer Strike commented.
“It is,” Flury Fang began again. “Its remains are your right, as you killed the one who desecrated our most revered creature, and allowed it the proper path to the stars above. We doubt you would have use of so much meat, so we have taken the liberty of curing it to prepare for the coming months.”
It was here that Grif saw Pensword standing with the Thestrals, having carried the left bear paw’s claws while Lunar Fang carried the right. Both had dressed in their Ursa robes, and carried traditional thestral weapons in accordance with tradition.
“Thank you. I’m sure I can put this to use in time,” Hammer Strike replied. ‘Though it’ll potentially take longer to shape it,’ he thought to himself.
“We know you will do great things with it. And you would bring more honor to its hide than making a simple rug out of it.”
“I might try a weapon with it this time,” Hammer said as he ran a hoof through the fur.
Vital Spark knocked gently on the door as the warding spells flared yet again. He hastily entered, before they could have a chance to fry him, only to run smack dab into Twilight. He grunted, then immediately proceeded to apologize.
“It’s fine, Vital Spark,” Twilight assured him. “It’s not like you ruined a vital experiment. No pun intended.”
“Um, so what brings you here, Twilight?”
Twilight grinned, and started to bounce on her hooves. “It’s so exciting! Clover tells me Trixie isn’t the first one to manage this kind of fusion between light and dark in magic, but she is the first one to be able to have the freedom to test its limits and capabilities. We’ve been running some tests with the assistance of some of my more modern equipment for analysis.”
“. . . Do I even want to know how badly you’ve hooked her up?”
“None of that.” Clover shook her head. “That machine wouldn’t be useful in measuring this sort of phenomenon anyway.”
“I told you its processing power is unprecedented, Clover. It can help if you let it,” Twilight argued.
“Twilight, I can think faster than it can,” Clover insisted. “Just leave it alone. Besides, this is better researched manually.”
“It’s a little hard to log the data properly for compilation, if you do everything manually, though, Clover. Especially with the new units of measurement for strength and skill in magical scales. If Trixie is going to write a book about this power and its workings, she’ll need all the data she can get on paper.”
“Oh. I’m sorry. I guess that means all my mentor’s works have become obsolete in the last century? I’ll have to get that to the inquisition. We can’t have Unicorns experimenting with defunct magical theories, can we?” Clover added sarcastically.
“. . . Did you sense that?” Trixie asked as she flinched back from the pair, and shuffled over to Vital Spark. “Welcome back, by the way.” Her horn maintained a steady glow as a sphere bobbed overhead with a black core surrounded by light.
“I felt that,” Vital Spark whispered back. “And thanks, Trixie. How have you been holding up?”
“Being a pupil to Clover the Clever has been hard work, but Trixie is most definitely satisfied. After all, how many Ponies can say they got the chance to be taught by one of the most powerful mages known in Pony history?”
“Too true. So . . . what’s this all about?”
“Debating over the best way to measure my capabilities, and notarize the data for future reference.”
“So it’s basically the ego of two big intellects arguing for supremacy?”
“Essentially.”
“Well, at least they’re keeping it civil.”
“Are you two quite finished?” two identical voices rang in stereo. Vital Spark and Trixie both jumped in surprise as they noted Twilight and Clover’s nigh-identical expressions of frustration.
“We’re in trouble, aren’t we?” Vital Spark said.
“So much,” Trixie agreed.
“Forget it,” Clover said a she took a deep breath. “As I was saying, based on my research, Trixie has, indeed, managed to merge the light and dark mana flow inside herself without causing one to overcome the other, something that both Star Swirl and Meadow Brook theorized, but neither of them had ever been able to accomplish.”
“Um, question,” Vital Spark said nervously as he raised a hoof.
“Yes, Vital?”
“I know this is going to sound stupid, but . . . who, exactly, is Meadow Brook?”
“Mage Meadow Brook,” Clover explained. “He was a Unicorn from the east who had a talent for enchantments, and was a great leader in magical theory. He hid eight enchanted items across Equestria with special powers, but they have yet to be recovered”
“Do we have any idea what they even are, or what they could do?”
“How can you not know about Meadow Brook? Every magical student knows about him,” Trixie exclaimed. “With Star Swirl and present company excluded, he’s one of the biggest names in magic!”
“I . . . wasn’t raised in Equestria?”
Trixie gaped at Vital Spark as the light on her horn died, and the sphere disappeared. “What did you just say?”
“I wasn’t raised in Equestria. It’s why I wasn’t very good at magic, why I don’t know about Equestria’s history, and, I guess, in part, why Clover took me under her wing . . . horn . . . hoof. What term do you use for that?”
“It doesn’t matter,” Clover said from behind them. “Shall we carry on with the research, or would you two like to sit and flirt all day?”
“Flirt?” The two instantly backed away from one another as their cheeks burned red. Unfortunately for Vital Spark, his white coat showed no mercy.
“Clover!” he cried as his hooves flew to cover the spots. He promptly smacked down onto the floor. “Ow. Why me?”
It was approaching midday at the Bladefeather compound. Off on the horizon, a speck flew from the clouds, and gradually drew closer. In time, the shape became close enough to distinguish individual features. The flyer was a large falcon and leopard hybrid Gryphon, and he was clearly harried as he landed on a ledge at the front of the doors, and adjusted the messenger bags bearing the seal of the Monastery of Winds on it. When nobody opened the gates, he gave a large screech to alert the guards to his presence.
Grif had Athena sleeping securely on his back when the gates opened. Shrial rose, and approached with Gentle Wing on her back as she took in the bedraggled state of the messenger. “You’ve had a long flight, my friend!” Grif said.
“One I would do over again in a heartbeat. I have the honor of bringing news, and information for the Avatar from the Winds Father.” The Gryphon bowed. “May I have audience with you and your family? This deals with Avatar business, and is only meant for those of your blood to hear.”
“Please, come to my home. You must rest and refresh yourself, my friend,” Grif said. “Your message can wait until then, at least.”
“Very well,” the Gryphon replied with another avian bob of his head. “I’ll follow you to your home, but this message must be shared by moonfall tonight.”
They led him to their home. After the messenger had taken a nap, they put food and wine before him, and waited until he’d eaten his fill, before letting him deliver his message.
He placed the satchels in front of Grif. “I bring to you items and papers from your predecessor. After much consultation with the Winds Father, the Emperor authorized the movement of these relics to your compound. They belong to you more than the Monastery or the rulers of Gryphelheim. This is for your personal order, to show all in the world who you would call friend, and who you would deem worthy of respect. In ancient times, this award doubled as an honor, and was simply called Friend of the Avatar; however, you have the power to rename the order, should you so desire. I am sad to say that none of this order live, save for you. The Avatar is always counted at the first member.”
“I’d thought Daedalus would be more worried about keeping the empire together after the coup,” Grif said, “but I do appreciate this gift. Is Daedalus well?”
“He said you would be concerned with him dealing with the Coup. He found these items in a now desolate house of one of his enemies. He gave it to one of his troops to send to the Monastery, which then gave it to me to send to you. There are plans to move back to his birth city in the spring, and the remnants have fallen. They are fleeing to the South, but their will is broken, and they fight only because honor dictates they follow through the course to the death. They think the coup will be fully put down by spring next year.”
“And good riddance to it.” Grif smiled. “Have you other news? Other messages?”
“There are rumors that he found a pink-furred prophetess who spends her days in his care. They whisper that you may be asked to give your blessing for a marriage in the near future. However, there are certain complications in the matter. She forsook her former name, and her former house was blotted out. I believe you know of the family of whom I speak. It is possible there may be a battle over the wedding, which is why the Emperor and the Winds Father both wish you to be there. With luck, your presence will avert any bloodshed, and help the people to see that the union will be profitable for our people as a whole.”
“What does the Winds Father think?” Grif asked. “Does he support them?”
“Yes. I also have a letter penned directly to you. I have no idea of the contents. I was merely ordered to give it to you or one of your wives.” He shuffled a paw. “May I speak less formally, Avatar?”
“Please. I am a simple Gryphon with his family. Speak your mind.”
“I’m glad to be of service, and . . . I’m wondering. Do you need a messenger to fly between the Empire and Equestria?” He looked around furtively. “Service to the Emperor and the Winds Father has its price, and my family is already in danger. They’re safe in Vanhoover for now, but I don’t know how long that could last. I could think of no place safer for them than here, an ocean away from danger.”
“You realize the extent of the service you offer me? The distance between is no small feat.”
“But it will be reason to have my family live under your banner and your protection. I’d give my wings, and gladly be damned to walk the earth for the rest of eternity, if it means they are safe. If you need me for something else, name it.”
“I can understand that.” Grif nodded. “My wife has wished to have a secure way to send messages to her father. You are familiar with the Farflyer clan?”
“I am.” He bobbed his head. “I would be your personal carrier, then, if you’ll have me. I will carry letters and parcels across.”
“I do not give myself a luxury not available to my family,” Grif said in an almost stern tone. “I would need to rely on you to ferry messages for any who might ask of you. Would you accept this?”
“To be messenger for an entire clan? You trust me that much, when we’ve only just met?” His eyes widened. “It was an honor to be given the seal of the monastery, but to be trusted by an entire clan? Such a thing is beyond imagining.”
“Before you return to the Empire, you’ll stop in Vanhoover to visit your family, I expect?” Grif asked.
“I was hoping to be given time to get my family, and return with them before starting,” he admitted sheepishly. “But if you need me to return right away, I shall do so.”
“You are a competent messenger, my friend, but you are not entirely prepared to defend so many for so long. In Vanhoover, you will find a Gryphon named Graven Graytalon in the Bandaged Wing Saloon. He runs our local branch there. You will give him a letter that I will give to you. He will see that you and your family make it here safely.”
“Thank you,” the messenger replied, bowing his head. “Though my thanks means little as an outcast.”
“Then you are an outcast no more,” Grif said with a smile as he walked over to a desk, and pulled out a patch with the Bladefeather crest set to it. “What’s your name, my friend?”
“Dagger Feather Scroll, Sir.”
Grif slapped him gently with the patch “What is your name?” he asked again as he held out the patch.
“D-dagger Feather Scroll Bladefeather,” the messenger replied.
“Correct,” Grif said, giving him the patch, and the letter. “Fly strong, and fly well, my brother. All who are homeless are welcome in these walls.”
“Thank you.” He bowed once more, and then was gone as he spread his wings, and took flight.
When the Gryphon was gone, Grif nodded. “And now we wait. Either Graven will appear next week with armed guards and a family needing shelter, or he’ll appear with a head. Either way, the matter is taken care of.” Graven Graytalon was an excellent judge of character, and uncanny at sensing malcontent. If this Gryphon was lying, he’d know. Grif didn’t believe too much that Dagger had any sort of malicious intent, but one was better safe than sorry. Even moreso, now that he had two baby girls to protect with another child on the way.
Grif turned to the bag, and looked to Shrial and Avalon. “Should I, or should I have some Unicorns scan it first?”
“I’d go with the latter, Grif,” Avalon said pointedly. “We have a couple of cubs to take care of, after all, and we’d rather keep you around a while longer.”
“Very well. Still, you should find some time to pen a letter or two to your father,” Grif said. “I’m certain he’d appreciate knowing he’ll be a grandfather soon.”
“Well, I was going to try experimenting with a spell, but I suppose this way would be easier.” She chuckled. “I just wish I could see the looks on my sisters’ faces, too.”
Grif kissed her, then he pulled Shrial in for one, too. “Winds, I love you.”
Hammer Strike placed his quill down, having signed the final document . . . of his current stack. He was behind by another two. He sighed heavily. While he had others to help with all the documents, there was still several that needed his attention. He rubbed his side. Rest would come after the paperwork, or when he was less stubborn. Whichever came first.
His ear twitched as more hoofsteps suddenly started moving towards his room. After a moment, he was able to define the sound and weight placement to figure out they were heading for his room. He gave a faint grin as he waited for the right moment.
“Come in, Rarity,” he called out.
Much to his surprise, and slight pain, the door banged open with such force that it sounded like a gunshot as Rarity raced in, and flung all his papers aside to replace them with a whole new stack of paperwork. Piles of cloth samples, types of metals, armor types, and a massive pile of sketches and rough designs completely obscured his face, before the mare pranced around his desk, and planted a solid kiss on his cheek with an excited giggle.
“I’ve finally managed to narrow things down to a manageable level, Darling, and I simply had to come and share the new designs, especially with all that beautiful material those Thestrals were so thoughtful to bring. Why, it gives us an entirely new avenue to look towards for theme and decoration, but I wanted to hear what you think, before I tried going any further. What do you think, Hammer Strike?”
“Uh. . . .” Hammer Strike looked over several selections in front of him. “I think I need an afternoon to catch up on everything.”
“An afternoon? Darling, I was planning on taking a couple of days. To help you really get a proper understanding of the vision for each of these, I have to give you the full presentation. And besides that, I need your input to see what you want to add or subtract.” She shook her head sadly. “No, I think we’ll have to just set aside some time for us to have a more . . . intimate conversation.” She smiled wickedly. “Wouldn’t you say?”
Hammer Strike blushed. “I, uh. Yes.”
“Excellent. I’ll meet you at your forge at midnight. That should be plenty of time for you to sort your affairs and get some quiet time for just the two of us.” She rushed in to kiss him full on the lips. “Oh, I do love you, Hammer Strike.” Then she giggled, and raced back out.
Hammer Strike gaped for a moment or two, then looked down at all his disorganized paperwork on the floor, then to the slightly more organized piles on his desk. “What just happened?”
Pensword found himself in the middle of a large tent that has been erected on the Thestral Grounds. He looked at each of the tribal leaders, and finally to Luna herself. It seemed that he and his wives were not the only ones who had been called. The Gryphons who had sworn their loyalty to him stood silently behind with their weapons at the ready. According to Grif, the blood oath had officially made them a part of his family, and, by extension, his tribe.
“Hello, Pensword,” Luna greeted him with a nod of acknowledgment.
“High Chieftess,” Pensword replied.
“Do you know why you're here before us?”
“I do not,” Pensword answered. “But I am assuming it is due to the fact that there are Gryphons in my family?” he asked.
“Not quite, Pensword. As you know, it has always been the tradition that clans are withheld to small groups within each tribe.”
“I do. I am of the Dream Clan, which is of the Bear Tribe,” he answered with pride.
“You were of the dream clan of the bear tribe,” Luna responded.
Pensword looked horrified. “Were? Have I done something to lose my blessing of the clan?” His eyes shifted in panic as he thought what could be happening here. The grim expressions, the solemn bearing. Was he going to be cast out to appease the balance of power between the Lunar and Solar courts?
“No, no, Pensword. You misunderstand.” Luna shook her head “You are being awarded a great honor, one of the greatest that this council can think to bestow at this time. You, Pensword, are to found the next great house of the Thestrals. You are to create the next clan.”
Pensword’s legs buckled beneath him as Lunar Fang gaped at the princess, then back looked back to her mate, then back at Luna again. “A clan hasn’t been founded or awarded since just before your . . . departure,” she said.
Luna shrugged in her ursa armor. “There has been nopony able to distinguish themselves enough to merit it until now.”
“Wh–what do I need to do? What is the ceremony for this? Should I go hunt a beast in the forest?” Pensword asked. For all the things he’d been taught as a foal, none had felt the need to explain the creation of a new clan. After all, there had been no need during the time before the war, and no time for it after.
“First you will need to find volunteers to take up your name and mark. When you have enough, then we will proceed,” Luna said.
Pensword nodded his head numbly, and gave a Thestral bow. “I shall go, and find those that would be honored to take my name.” He would have to ask those in the tent first. Then the Demon Slayers. This would take time. He looked to those in the tent with him. “Who here wish to take my name?”
He had barely spoken before the Gryphons bowed in the same manner he did to Luna, only, this time, the gesture was directed at him and Lunar Fang.
Extended Holiday Ch 106: It’s Going to be one of Those Days Act 15
“It’s amazing that your Ponies have recovered from the attack so well with everything that’s happened.” Fancy Pants sat across from Hammer Strike at the small table they’d set up for the meeting, nursing a glass of sherry.
“We’re doing the best we can,” Hammer Strike replied.
“And it’s admirable,” Fancy Pants said. “But in all seriousness, is there any way we can aid you, Hammer Strike?”
“Not that I can think of.” Hammer Strike shook his head. “We have plenty of resources.”
“Surely you must need help recovering your losses. Perhaps we could fund a recruiting drive?”
“Sir,” Blast Shield said as he entered the room. “The Crystal Ponies have arrived with sixty soldiers. They say that another forty will arrive in the next month with an additional offering of ten more each month, till we have five hundred Crystal Soldiers for our garrison.”
“That’s good to hear.” Hammer Strike nodded. “Could you see to helping them set up in the new barracks? I think the repairs weren’t too difficult, and they should be fixed up by now.”
“I’ll see to it myself,” Blast replied with a bow, then left the room.
“Well, it seems that’s in order. I don’t suppose you need help re-building damage to your walls and buildings?”
“Oi!” A voice called from outside the window. Several Dwarves had shown up at the gate, each with resources and tools. “We’ve been given the green light from the Blue Lard an hour ago. That means you lazy lot can finally get to work on the wall whenever!”
“Are those . . . foals with beards?” Fancy Pants asked incredulously as he looked out the window.
“No, those would be Dwarves,” Hammer Strike replied. “They . . . may have taken tools from me nearly two thousand years ago, and think they have a grand debt to pay off to me for it. . . . And they don’t take no for an answer.”
Fancy Pants raised his eyebrows. “Your life is just full of curiosities, isn’t it?”
“You don’t even know the half of it. So, anything else?”
“What about food? Surely your resources were strained.”
“We’re well stocked on that end, actually.”
“Is there really nothing we can do to help?”
“Not that I can think of.”
“You know, it’s very hard to earn your trust when you don’t require any favors,” Fancy Pants sighed.
“I already trust you, Fancy Pants. I know your intentions right off the bat. As for the others, while their intentions are obvious, they aren’t the best.”
“Not all of us are overly paranoid and self destructive, you know,” Fancy Pants pointed out.
“I never said everyone was. I simply stated that it’s easier to tell who is.”
Fancy pants nodded as he took another long pull from his sherry. “I suppose, then, that I won’t be able to do much good here.”
“It’s at least keeping some of the other nobles visiting in check. That’s a positive.”
“I’ll take what I can.” Fancy Pants shrugged. “I should go find Fleur. If you need me, don’t hesitate to ask.”
“Got it. Good luck, Fancy Pants.”
“And you as well, Hammer Strike.”
“So you're doing what?” Grif asked
Grif, Avalon, Shrial, Pensword, Fox Feather, Moon River, and Lunar Fang all stood with Luna outside the mouth of the immense cave where the Changelings had killed the Ursa Major.
“The cub is still in there, and We intend to aid it,” Luna repeated.
“The cub is still alive? May I ask how you plan on aiding this star beast?” Pensword asked in awe. “If you can pull a Dame Fluttershy, that will be a point of boasting for our tribes.”
“I believe I can enchant my armor to replicate the mother's scent,” Luna said.
“And if you can’t?” Grif asked. “We’re not exactly talking about a little teddy bear here.”
“I shall burn that bridge when I come to it. You know, I do think I actually coined that phrase. One of my lieutenants kept mentioning the strategic weakness of a bridge during a campaign, and I believe that was my exact response.”
“And pointless,” Lunar Fang replied with a chuckle as a majority of those present presented their wings.
“We must remember, my friends, not everyone has wings,” Luna noted.
“Very true,” Pensword responded. “So, where is the cub going to stay?”
“I’ll take it back with me to Ys,” Luna said
“I hope the Thestrals will spoil him and make him a part of our culture and society,” Fox Feather replied with a lopsided grin. “Lunar Fang, can I hold your daughter?”
“Our daughter,” Lunar Fang replied with a laugh. She broke off suddenly as she found the cradle on her back was empty. Her pupils immediately shrank.
Pensword was worried and looked to Chieftess Luna. “Permission to enter the cave? We felt it would be safe with you here to have our daughter, but she got out without any of us knowing she was awake.”
“Let's hurry,” Luna agreed. Her horn sprung to life as she galloped towards the cave with the others on her tail. They entered the chamber where the baby ursa was sleeping, and right there, curled up on the creatures back, was a sleeping Moon River.
“How does she do that?” Pensword hissed. As usual, Moon River kept her toy crossbow held under the crook of her leg. “She’s turning into a ninja.”
“Your daughter scares me,” Grif said flatly.
Luna grinned widely. “She will make a fine captain of my guard one day. Maybe even a future commander.”
“Assuming she breaks the contract to marry Cosy,” Lunar Fang pointed out. “But I’m sure she would appreciate the sentiment. I know we do,” Lunar Fang said as she beamed a smile to her husband.
Pensword continued to gape, first at the ursa, then at Moon River, then back at Luna, and his wife. “I’m never going to get used to this, am I?”
Lunar Fang leaned in and gave him a passionate kiss. “That’s what they all say with the first one,” she said with a mischievous wink. “Just wait till number two comes.”
Pensword shuddered. “Of all the foes I have faced, fatherhood is, by far, the greatest.”
“But it’s still the most worth it, too,” Lunar Fang pointed out as she laid a wing over his back. Fox Feather soon joined on the other side as they watched the sleeping children together.
Pensword sat at his desk looking over the mountain of requisition forms and requests from the troops. The sounds of mortar on stone, chisels, sledges, and saws mowing through wooden beams echoed through the hallways as the repairs continued to progress. Everypony was slowly getting used to the sight of nobles walking through the halls, and more Ponies moving about the castle. His left ear twitched as he heard the sound of shifting hooves from the secretary’s office. He’d left explicit instructions he wasn’t to be disturbed, unless it was absolutely necessary. His brows furrowed. If this was another noble trying to ruffle his feathers, he didn’t know what he would do.
“I don’t care what orders you have. I will see the commander presently.”
Pensword winced. He recognized that voice only too well, but thought he might as well let things play out a little longer. He wanted to see just how long the inevitable exchange of insults and bickering could be held off, and absently wondered if Baron Blueblood would get the hint to make an appointment first.
And then there was a loud rumbling sound, and something smacked audibly against his door.
Pensword quickly stood up, marched to the door, and opened it. “What is going on out here?” he demanded. His tone had shifted from its usual calm form to that of a commanding officer at basic training. Baron Blueblood was currently being held on the ground by Preston. His horn was at the baron’s throat, while the secretary lay nearby looking uninjured, but very much startled.
“What happened here?” Pensword demanded.
“I was merely leaning forward to explain the importance of my seeing you when this cretin charged me,” Baron Blueblood sneered.
Pensword didn’t so much as blink in Blueblood’s direction. “Preston, what happened?”
“He lifted his hoof. He intended to strike her,” Preston reported.
“Preposterous.”
“Are you certain, Preston?”
“One hundred percent,” Preston said. One could almost say he buzzed with indignation.
Pensword’s eyes narrowed. “In my office, Blueblood. Now!” he snapped. “And in case you didn’t realize, yes, that is an order, and not a request for pleasantries. Preston is a far better judge of character than you give him credit for, and I will gladly take his word over yours any day of the week. You will answer for that action now, Baron.” He looked to his secretary. “You have the meeting off. Go ahead and visit the medical wing. Collect your nerves. Preston, I want you standing guard here. And don’t let anypony interrupt. I don’t care if Tirek himself is attacking the castle. I want to give my undivided attention to the baron.”
“Yes, Sir.” Preston saluted
“Well, I never,” Baron Blueblood scoffed as he entered the office.
“Baron Blueblood, you are in my land, my domain. Have I tried to tell you how to run your affairs or demanded audiences from your staff with threats of violence when I’ve visited your home?”
“Perhaps you should teach your staff how to treat nobility properly,” Blueblood said dryly. “At any rate, I am here because the law requires me to remind you of the lands entrusted to my family.”
“And what else does the law state?” Pensword asked cooly, knowingly. “As for treating nobility, I tell them to treat my office hours with respect, and only just notified them that I could be dealing with some highly classified information. That is why you were kindly requested to return at another time. And had you had the courtesy a noble is supposed to be born with, you would have let my assistant inform you of that matter. For all you know, I could have been dealing with following up on the third incursion of the Changeling Queen known as Chrysalis. She is a known threat, and we will have to deal with her.” He was not very happy. “Also, even nobles should know not to strike the staff of another noble without just cause.”
Blueblood growled under his breath, before saying, “I am, by law, obligated to inform you of the lands which fall under your legal stewardship.” He grit his teeth. “What you do with them is, of course, your choice.”
“I would like them back,” Pensword said with a wing shrug. “As for how I would protect them? I will ask for the help from the Dream Clan and Bear Tribe.”
Blueblood’s eye twitched. “Very well. You realize, given the newness of the Lunar House, it will take time for the official documents to be ratified.”
“I will make sure that both princesses will know to keep an eye out for the documents. I expect this to be wrapped up by month's end, or I will be sorely vexed, and might bring this fallout to House Platinum.”
“Of course, of course,” Blueblood said with a strained smile. “I’ll have my attorneys begin working on them, then. After all is said and done, you should be able to reap the profits of next year’s harvest.”
Pensword’s expression remained perfectly neutral. “Was there any other ‘urgent’ business you wished to discuss, or did you almost strike my secretary just so you could inform me of something that could have been done by scroll? I still remember the last time we discussed the issue, Blueblood. I may have been born over a thousand years ago, but I’m not senile.”
“Watch yourself, Commander,” Blueblood said as he rose to his hooves. “Your status as duke is not yet so powerful, nor have you been playing this game long enough to start threatening me. I came to deliver this news in person, because it was demanded in my ancestor’s will. Nothing further.”
Pensword stood up. “And I will not take you treating my troops and those that serve under my orders any way you want. I thank you for your deliverance of the news, and I understand the importance of honoring your ancestor’s wish. Blueblood was a good friend, and a valiant soldier. However, if that is all the business you have with me, I would kindly ask you to leave my office. On top of a new house to run, I also have to deal with the arrangements for my troops. You have a good day, Blueblood. I will see you at the coming vote.” He allowed himself a brief smile. “Oh, and thank you for using the rank I earned. It’s about time the Solar Court started acknowledging us.”
“We shall see, Commander,” Blueblood growled as he stalked out of the office. “We shall see.”
Prince Blueblood sighed, and rolled his eyes as he passed yet another squad of guards. Honestly, can’t the military take just a moment or two to relax? It’s not like the Changelings were going to attack again any time soon. All this uptightness was chafing on his nerves. It certainly didn’t help having to deal with the financial fallout for the loss of Mountainside Falls. He didn’t even want to think about all the scrounging he’d have to do to make ends meet for this year’s budget. What he needed right now was a fancy bubble bath. Yes, that would cheer his spirits rather nicely. The . . . accommodations, if they could be called that, may not have been the same quality as the palace back in Canterlot, but if Auntie Celestia could use them, then he supposed he would have to endure it. He’d have to have Spit Shine set one up before getting his suit pressed for dinner. After all, a prince had a certain reputation to keep.
It was rather odd, though. Most of the time, he’d be practically dripping with beautiful mares. They could hardly wait to kiss his royal hooves when he walked into a room. And yet, when they’d passed through Ponyville, there was hardly a fanfare. There was Lady Pie, of course, but she was always hyper. The rest seemed far too unenthusiastic. It wasn’t every day their little hovel of a village could be graced by nobility. They should have been grateful for their willingness to come. He groaned as he cracked his neck. He’d have a whole new set of knots for the masseuse to iron out when he got back to Canterlot again. Traveling through all that forest, and just because that stupid forest wouldn’t let the Pegasi do their job. If he were in charge, he’d have burnt it to the ground, and annihilated all trace of the magic responsible. Besides, the land would make for prime real estate once those ghastly beasts had been dealt with. Why Hammer Strike insisted on having a pet manticore was beyond him.
This whole time, Blueblood had been entirely unaware of Discord following him, and changing the color of his mane every five seconds.
“Look, I’m sorry, Mister Spit Shine, but I’m afraid there’s been a bit of a mix-up.”
Blueblood’s ears perked in surprise as he heard the voice coming from his quarters.
“Master Blueblood, I’ve had my fair share of young nobles wanting to mingle with the common folk, but you really should know better by now. I’ve been in the serving business my whole life. It is most unbecoming to walk among the common folk without a proper guard, especially in a place as dangerous as this Castle,” a reedy, nasally voice replied, followed immediately by a cleared throat. “Just look at you. Your mane needs a grooming, your hooves have lost their buffing, and, to be perfectly frank, you are clearly in sore need of a bath.”
“What did you just say?”
“Now, now, young colt, no need to get into a fuss. I’ve already had the servants draw out the water, and we’ve treated it just the way you like it, with all the essentials, and the bubble bath for extra measure. We’ve even included Mister Squeakums, as per your request.
“Spit Shine? What in Tirek’s name is going on here?” Blueblood asked as he slammed the door open.
An elderly gray stallion with a drooping white mane and a pair of thick spectacles stared with wide eyes, and a gaping muzzle as his true master walked in. His vest was carefully pressed, and a slim silver chain tied the lenses around his neck in case they ever fell off his nose. His fetlocks had been neatly trimmed to show off the carefully tended hooves, while a pair of maids also gaped with their hooves still on the struggling stallion in question.
“M-my prince! But . . . but I thought . . . that is, well. . . . Oh, dear.” He brought his hoof to his mouth as he snapped his head back and forth between the prince and the stallion he had thought was the prince.
“How?” Blueblood was flabbergasted as he took in the stallion struggling with his servants. “How could you mistake me for one of such obvious low birth?”
The Pony bristled. It took him several moments to compose himself. “Wow. You know, I’d like to say I’m surprised at your atrocious behavior right now, but, to be perfectly frank, after what you did to Rarity, I’m not.”
“And you,” Blueblood said, turning on the stallion. “How dare you attempt to take advantage of my servant like this!”
“Take advantage? I never asked to be dragged halfway across the castle by staff convinced I’m you. I’ve been trying to tell them I’m not. And then Mister Spit Shine goes so far as to insult me by claiming I don’t bathe regularly, when I bathed only just this morning, and do so quite regularly. And secondly, if you’re really going to insult me based on classes and bloodlines, I’ll have you know I’m descended from royalty, thank you very much.”
“Now listen here, you lying, low-born imposter. When I return to Canterlot, I will see you charged for your actions!”
“And the court will throw out your case faster than you can say misunderstanding. I don’t welcome harassment, Blueblood, and I won’t be bullied by the likes of you. Do you think I actually enjoy being mistaken for a spoiled jerk like you?”
“You are incapable of understanding the complications of a life such as mine!” Blueblood growled.
“You’re right. I probably am. I don’t have to deal with politics, and I’m glad I don’t, but I don’t have to put up with mistreatment just because you happen to be having a hard time. Guess what, Blueblood? Newsflash, you’re not the only one! Or have you forgotten all the mourning families you’re supposed to be here to comfort?”
“I honor those who died doing their duty, but keep in mind it was their duty to die defending we, the Ponies who make this kingdom function.”
“Exactly. We, the people who cook your food, clean your house, mend your garments, draw out your bath. The list goes on. We, the people who enlist our lives in the guard and the military to protect our families, our homes, our loved ones.” His horn began to spark dangerously as he tossed his mane. “Don’t talk to me about the people they sacrificed for. I know them. I’m one of them, and the fact that you don’t seem to even realize just how important those people are proves just how poor a ruler you would be if you were ever to ascend the throne.”
“Get out of my sight, Peasant!” Blueblood shouted.
The stallion trotted to the door, then turned. “I am no peasant, and I have a name, Blueblood. A blue beam shot from his horn, before concentrating to form a gauntlet of ice. He then dropped it onto the floor, where it lay, and slowly began to seep water onto the carpet. “If you have the courage to learn it, meet me in the courtyard tomorrow at noon. We meet on the field of honor.” Then he walked out, and slammed the door behind him.
Prince Blueblood scoffed as he turned away from the door. “What an arrogant prude of a peasant. I’ll have to see about reporting him to Hammer Strike, or perhaps Princess Twilight,” he mused. Then he noticed the ghastly expressions on his staff. “I say, Spit Shine, what on earth are you staring at?”
“Y-your mane,” the elderly servant said, then promptly fainted.
“My mane? What about my–?” As Blueblood approached the mirror in his quarters, he stopped, he gaped, and his scream was heard throughout the halls of the castle. Discord broke into hysterical laughter as he winked off into his personal dimension.
Pensword paced in a fury as he circled the council room. Hammer Strike and Grif both watched idly as they each sipped their respective drinks. “Why can’t I be visited by Fancy Pants, or one of the lesser nobles?” He snorted, and flared his nostrils. “I had to deal with Blueblood, and reward my secretary and Preston on the sly. He was going to strike one of my troops. One of mine!” he growled. “I never mistreated his staff. What gives him the right to threaten mine?”
“In his mind, or legitimately?” Grif asked as he drank another cup of raspberry cordial.
“Either one,” Pensword groused as he took out his aggression on an unsuspecting sugar cane.
“Fancy Pants is one of many that have come my way,” Hammer Strike noted.
“Celestia gave the House of Lords too much power, before she could outlaw physical punishment by nobility onto non-nobles. While striking your secretary would be considered impolite, until the House of Lords rules otherwise, it’s not illegal. Sadly, many of the lords like having that threat for their servants,” Grif said, placing a book on noble law on the desk.
“Well I come from the Lunar Courts, and it is unwise for a leader in Thestral culture to strike one who serves the leader. There are certain times you can. Honor, finding out that some in the clan were not . . . staying true to vows.” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath to calm himself as he sucked on the sugars from the cane, and tried to let that calm his beating heart and raging adrenaline. “Still, I will make sure Luna codifies those into the Lunar Court. That way, the Solar Court will have no choice but to abide by them on our lands, or we will have the right to retaliate. On the plus side, I have one good thing, however small, from that meeting. The Baron called me Commander.”
“I think it was a better thing you had Preston,” Grif said. “No offense, but I’m happier Baron Blueblood never got his satisfaction.”
“Same here,” Pensword muttered. “Although, Hammer Strike, if you want to make his life a little harder, I wouldn’t oppose it.”
“Not too hard to do that, to be honest,” Hammer Strike replied.
“True, but I still think he deserves a little feedback on how he acted with the staff.”
“Again, easy to do.”
“Meh. I’ll just wait until he has a lacky challenge you to a duel. Then I’ll take your place as a second, and publicly humiliate him. Humiliation going in, humiliation going out. Double the profit.”
“I shall keep that in mind, if you don’t mind Moon River watching with Lunar Fang,” Pensword replied with a fang-filled smile. “Just show who has the ear of the princesses.”
“He does,” Grif said. “At least politically. His son is, after all, still a fixture within the palace.”
“Yeah, but we have a trump card. Hammer Strike can ground them,” Pensword pointed out.
“Unless something big pops up, I don’t think I’ll be doing that again any time soon.” Hammer Strike shook his head.
“Besides. If we play that card too much, everybody starts criticising the crown for being toadies, and I really don’t think Celestia and Luna are prepared for a culling at this time,” Grif noted.
“Sounds accurate,” Hammer Strike agreed calmly.
“So what do we do to get these parasites out, before they start infecting our own men?” Pensword asked. “I had to deal with an angry noble father, and I can understand his anger, considering the circumstances, but Baron Blueblood.” He spat. “Anyone with eyes can tell he sees me as a stupid commoner too weak to withstand the rigors of nobility.” His teeth snapped his Sugar Cane in half. “So we just wait for the next mess-up, and activate the duel laws?”
“Oh, Blueblood can’t ignore this. He’s too much of a coward to draw a weapon himself, but to leave what happened in the wind would lose face for his house. It’s sad, but he believes, and, quite likely, can find a better swordsman than you. No offense,” Grif noted. “But he also mistakenly believes that I won’t step in, unless there’s a profit to be made. Thus, he doesn’t think the right of a second applies here.”
“But it is my honor,” Pensword growled. “Do you know how hard it was?” He sighed. “Of course you do. You were there. This is nothing compared to what I faced the first time as Commander, but this just sticks in my feathers, because it happened in my office, in my sanctum.” He snorted, and flicked his tail. “But we shall proceed, and have the duel, if he is brave enough to issue such an order. And I will gladly name you my second.” He looked at Grif as he prepared another stalk of sugarcane. “How do you know so much about the modern day Equestrian political world? Because it is confusing me which is still valid, and which has fallen out of favor.”
“Read the book.” Grif shrugged as he pointed to the item in question. “It’s frankly pretty simple in comparison to the three tomes in regards to Gryphon politics I had to read back in the Empire.”
“Have you read the book, Hammer Strike?” Pensword asked with a chuckle as he started chewing on his next stalk.
“Read enough on it to figure out most situations,” Hammer replied.
Pensword sighed. “Well then, I suppose I had better get a copy from you both. I appear to be behind the curve.” He shook his head. “Been working so hard on building the military, I have let my noble learnings suffer.”
“Well it’s a good thing we can have each other’s backs where it counts, then. Though I think we’ll need to start making decisions about Vital soon,” Grif noted.
“Agreed. I still can’t believe it. Tripping and falling back to Equestria.” Pensword snorted as he shook his head. “What do we do? I personally want to just have him gather his things, and send him home again. We can trade my Aunt for his life, assuming Discord needs to use that method to send him back.” He looked at the other two. “What do you two say?”
“Discord needs time to recover from the first trip. From what I heard, it wasn’t exactly easy for him to send us back the first time,” Hammer Strike replied. “Send him back as soon as possible, yes, but if it takes too long . . . well, yeah.”
“We should start working on his reputation, and the role he plays while he’s here. I hate to play the pessimist, but, at this point, gentlemen, we need to start thinking like he’ll be here for the long run,” Grif said.
“Well, Clover did give him a title at the gala. Vital the Virtuous, if I recall correctly, and she is teaching him as a student, which means he is going to be looked at for being the continuation of not just Clover’s legacy, but Star Swirl’s as well.” Pensword added
“Yes. And I think, given our current triad,” Grif noted, gesturing between them, “it may be wise to have him named Unity’s Arcane Advisor to Lord Hammer Strike for the time being.”
“I see nothing wrong with that,” Pensword replied.
“That’ll work for the time being.” Hammer Strike nodded.
“So, Hammer Strike, I trust you’ve heard that your . . . sycophantic friends have decided to improve our walls. Maybe you can convince them to help with more?” Grif asked. “I think this last bout has taught us we need to expand our fortifications.”
“Considering what I’ve seen them make, I’ll have to discuss that with them, yeah. At least for the construction of walls, and buildings of high importance.”
“Well, I think your friend is going to enjoy this, and the city is going to be built faster than we thought.” Pensword paused. “Also, next full moon, I would like to have no one around the Thestral area. We are going to be rebuilding our lodge.”
“I’ll alert the construction crew.”
“We can’t let that happen again, guys,” Grif said pointedly. “That attack was way too much.”
“Trust me, I know,” Hammer Strike replied simply.
“Agreed. The military cemetery is bigger than I wanted,” Pensword said. “We lost too many good soldiers. And if Spear’s father gets his way, we could see our efforts hampered.” He sighed. “When can we get a foundry for cannons? I think they would do well on the walls. Eventually, we might need to build those large artillery placements, like on the Atlantic wall.”
“I almost hate to say it, but howitzers?” Grif suggested. “We need something more rapid fire.”
“I’ll figure something out. Perhaps something better than a cannon. Maybe a crank-based machine gun. I don’t want to skip too far, and just give our troops firearms, because then we’ve got the rest of the world to deal with when it comes to questions and possible conflict.” Hammer Strike frowned.
“We say we find some of these crank weapons in one of the drawings the humans left behind? If you wish, blame it on Matthew.” He frowned. “How do we handle Matthew, anyway? Should we put a small tablet to honor them? We all know I’m not going to return to that form again.”
“Thats a question for Celestia and Luna,” Grif noted. “Not us.”
“I will see about getting a meeting with them. I think we should at least inform Luna about what plans we have for the military weapons. I want to keep Queen Chrysalis at a much further distance in any future conflict,” Pensword said.
“As stated, give me some time. I may be able to make equipment faster than normal, but firearms and stuff like that will take me more time,” Hammer Strike noted.
“What about the Dwarves?” Grif asked. “You said they were smiths, and they seem to be quite into the era of steam. Maybe they could make the parts, and we can assemble them here?”
“Possibly, yeah. I’ll have to check what they have, and work out a deal.”
“I’m going to pull in more of the mercenary groups, see if I can recruit more from some of the lands outside Equis. Every bit helps. Once we get the basic repairs done, however, I think we need to give our troops a couple of days off. Some have yet to mourn, and we should try and remind them that, in the end, what we had was a victory. Raising the morale can’t hurt right now.”
“Yeah. That’ll be for the best,” Hammer Strike agreed.
“I’ll get the papers written and ready,” Pensword said.
“Is there anything we’re missing right now?”
“Not really. I have my resupply lists given to your people. The burying of the dead is finished. And, frankly, the only thing we really need to figure out is how long these nobles are going to be staying.”
“Not long, I imagine,” Grif said. “Blueblood will make his retreat, and the others will follow. Either to keep an eye on him, rally next to him, or even just to make sure he doesn’t go after their houses while they’re away. Also, Hammer Strike, get Polished Brass out here as soon as you can. I’m not handling the public speaking anymore.”
“I know. He should be back up and running again soon. He’s just got to finish recovering from that cold of his. It doesn’t exactly help with all the death that’s been happening lately.”
“Do you have anypony in mind to take his place in the meantime?”
“No.”
“Can you keep us apprised? Because I cannot be your seneschal. In fact, I need to get one as well.” Pensword shook his head.
“Well then, gentlemen, if we’re done here, I am going to spend some time with my daughters.” With a nod, Grif took to the air, and left out the window.
“And I am going to spend time with my family. You take care, Hammer Strike, and I shall see you later around the castle.” And then Pensword was gone as well as he followed Grif.
Hammer Strike sighed. “Now where can I find another seneschal?”
Pensword couldn’t help but find the night sky relaxing as he sat on a passing cloud with Lunar Fang and Moon River. True, they couldn’t exactly control its movements, but the untamed currents were calm enough that it didn’t move too much, and it seemed their innate magic would still allow them to stand on the clouds, even if they couldn’t control them. Just one thing was stepping in to spoil an otherwise perfect evening. His ear twitched yet again as the annoying buzzing returned. He shook his head, and shifted left, then right, trying to isolate the source. He squinted as he tried to use his echolocation, and as he did, a figure slowly began to appear in front of him.
With a sudden burst, he heard the voice clearly, though the figure remained but a shadow. “Moon Burn?” Pensword asked uncertainly. The shadow swirled and shifted like the vapors from the cloud.
Moon Burn moved his head. His mouth opened, but again, not a sound could be heard. The figure seemed to tremble for a moment, then the voice echoed like he was talking from the mouth of a cave or the bottom of a well. A tiny crystalline tone seemed to follow at the end of every sentence. Pensword casually noted how Moon River seemed to be staring right at the shadow, and she was being unusually still and quiet. That was not like her.
“Finally! We’ve been trying to contact you for days. We had to tap into the wild magic surrounding this place just to get through, and even then, we still needed help. Where have you been? You’re worthy, but you haven’t been answering our calls. What’s going on, big brother?”
“I . . . I don’t know” He stopped. “Wait. How long have you been trying to contact me?” He was horrified. “As for what’s going on, I have been trying to win a battle. Why were you trying to contact me?”
“Why do you think? I was trying to tell you about the attack!” He huffed sulkily. “We all were. You should see me and Grandma right now. She’s here, you know, but . . . no one was able to get to you. Not even Hurricane could contact you. If it weren’t for Bella Fiamma, we wouldn’t even be speaking right now.”
“Impossible. If you’re joking…” Pensword trailed off as a discordant chiding tone rang in protest, and the cloud silhouette began to glow silver in its chest. His eyes widened. “... A Peg-A-Lantern.” He frowned. “So you’re not joking,” he whispered.
Lunar Fang looked worried, but said nothing. All she could do was stand by as she listened, and held Moon River in her forelegs.
“What do I do?” Pensword asked. A loud ringing filled the air as the apparition forged from cloud tried to speak, but the words wouldn’t come across. A sudden spike of pain lanced through his head, and he clutched it as he watched the shape of Moon Burn break into a field of glowing stardust through tear-blurred eyes. He had somehow been cut off from his family and the field beyond. He collapsed onto the cloud, and he felt his heart break as he began to sniffle to himself. Slowly, he curled up as fear horror clawed their way into his chest. He heard the plaintive hurtful cry. He heard the ringing slowly die. He opened his mouth to let loose with a sorrowful wail, but Lunar Fang cut him off by buffeting him with a wing, and fixing him with a glare.
“You’re the Commander. Get a hold of yourself,” she snapped. “Here you are, breaking down over a simple setback. Did he say, at any time, that you were losing your gift on their end?”
Pensword shook his head numbly.
“Then you have a problem on your end.” She poked his nose. “That means you need to figure out what’s wrong. I can tell your Thestral magic and Pegasus magic is intact. Talk to one of your friends. Make sure that human magic is healthy. Process of elimination points there.”
Pensword winced. “I guess I should go find Grif?”
He got another whack in response. “And you won’t be let back into your bed till you find out exactly what’s going on.”
“Yes, dear.”
“And no sleeping with Fox Feather either. Moon River is coming with me. I mean it, Pensword. No distractions. I want this found out by sunrise. If you don’t, then we’re going straight to Luna.” Lunar Fang growled as she picked up their daughter and flew off.
After taking a few moments to nurse his bruised ego, Pensword whimpered softly and took to the air. He really hoped it would be something only Luna could solve, because if it turned out Grif could figure out, then it would be something that was really stupid and he probably wouldn’t sleep on the same cloud with Lunar Fang for a week.
Grif stood alone in the dark of night between the compound and Unity. The area was torn up and ragged from his personal training. The gryphon was, surprisingly, without armor. His studded leather jerkin lay on the grass a few feet away with his weapons. His fur and feathers were slick with sweat as he panted from his exertions.
He waited patiently as his breathing slowed and his pulse relaxed. He stood stock still and breathed the night air deeply before starting again. He moved carefully from right to left as fast as he could, hopping back and forth, while focusing his energy on increasing his pace. At first it seemed to look silly, but slowly, his image began to blur. Soon he vanished in the night as his form moved faster and faster. Finally, the blur separated into two blurry images. Each began to gain distinction, until for a few short moments, two identical images of Grif stood next to each other. This phenomenon lasted for ten seconds, before the two images gasped and vanished as Grif tumbled to the ground and rolled. His body shook from the momentum and exhaustion as the adrenaline slowly left his system. He lay there on the tattered but cool ground, panting as he let his body temperature slowly drop back to normal.
He heard a familiar chuckle from a nearby cloud.
“If you're going to try and kill me, Pensword, you should have just struck rather than letting me know you’re here,” Grif responded between breaths.
“Well, I am happy you can’t see me,” Pensword said as he hovered into the clearing and alighted on the ground. “I have to talk to you.”
“Can you pass me that water skin?” Grif asked as he gesturing towards his armor. “It’s just over there.”
Pensword picked up the waterskin and tossed it into Grif’s talons. “Grif, something’s wrong.”
“What's the problem?” Grif gurgled as the water ran down his beak and feathers to his breast, causing the green and black to glisten in the moonlight.
Pensword opened his muzzle, closed it, hovered, landed, moved a hoof about sheepishly like Fluttershy, then launched back into the air. Finally, he lowered again to look Grif in the eye. “I can’t see the dead anymore,” he said.
“I thought that was part of your Thestral magic,” Grif said.
“Same here, but my brother and others have been trying to contact me ever since we came back. They only just got to talk to me an hour ago. Lunar Fang thinks it is something that Luna needs to look at, but since she is busy with the nobles, she suggested I make sure it isn’t something involving the human magic.” Pensword sighed heavily, and Grif already knew what the hybrid was dreading.
“So it must be tied to something else,” Grif nodded in agreement. “You have a pair of spectacles on you? Sunglasses? A monocle?”
Pensword looked at the Gryphon before pulling out a telescope. “I have this.”
“I think I can make this work.” Grif took the telescope and held it in both hands. “Stand back. About ten feet,” he ordered grimly as he recalled a certain demonstration Hammer Strike had given him over a lifetime ago.
Pensword complied and flew ten feet back, while maintaining his hover a foot off the ground.
Grif took a minute to calm himself before concentrating as Shawn had instructed him, willing the energy through his body and into the telescope before putting it to his eye. Pensword noticed a slight glow cover the lens. To Grif’s eyes, Pensword’s body became out of focus and full of color. His colors however were dim and muted. Moving a talon to his own hand, he confirmed his colors were bright and shining. The strain hit him suddenly and he dropped the telescope. He released the energy before letting out several coughs, the last of which sprayed blood.
“What was that?” Pensword shouted as he raced to his friend’s side to try and help him. “What did you do?”
“Thaumic vision,” Grif said once he gained control of himself. “Had to take the thaumic energy from my body for it. It interrupted the energy keeping my injuries from killing me. I’ll be fine in a few minutes. As for you, you need to talk to Hammer Strike.”
“Why? Is it good or bad?” Pensword fidgeted nervously as he twiddled his hooves. “I don’t think he is in a good mood.”
“Your field’s really dim, Pensword. I think it’s deteriorating, but I don’t have the knowledge necessary for this kind of thing. I’m still as good as a novice.”
“Great,” Pensword huffed. “Why not? I am getting lectured by everypony else tonight. What is one more?” He sighed. “I don’t want lectures. I just want to get stable. Did you know my mom would lecture me whenever I had a dizzy spell, or if I did something off from the surgeries?”
“Maybe if you had paid attention before, things wouldn’t have gotten this bad.” Grif let out a growl. “Do you know how much danger you're in like this?”
“I guess not.” He looked tired. “I was always meaning to start. It just . . . I had one more thing to work on, and then I would get to it. And then another, and another. You know how I am. I have my check list, and I don’t like deviating from it.” His wings sagged. “I’ll see you in a week, when I wake up from the two days sleep, after I crash from Hammer Strike’s training.”
“If you were only so lucky.” Grif sighed. “Go to Hammer Strike. Talk to him. And I’d suggest you don’t argue. He may not be pleasant about it, but he wants what's best for us.”
“I know.” Pensword sighed. “But I cannot survive what he puts Celestia and Luna through. I have a military to lead. And with the nobles here, I cannot afford to appear weak or overworked. They’ll use it to their advantage.” He sighed again. “I’ll see you when I can, okay?”
“Good luck, Pensword.” Grif nodded as he got to his feet and made his way to his former spot, preparing to start training all over again.
“See you later.” Pensword took to the air and flew away slowly. He dreaded the meeting that was to come.
Vital Spark quickly snuck into the laboratory where Clover was busy working on her experiments. The egg continued to maintain its environment, remaining still and calm as it glistened in the torch light. The hour was late, but, as a student to Clover, one had to learn to bend to the teacher’s schedule.
“Um, Clover? Are you in here? Hello?” he called.
There was a loud bang followed by a puff of smoke. Clover walked into view, coughing lightly. She was currently wearing a thick pair of goggles, along with a protective scarf over her muzzle to prevent any fumes from getting in.
Vital spark furrowed his brow. “Clover?”
“Oh. Vital?”
“You . . . summoned me?” He blinked, and shook his head. “Wow, that sounded pretentious.”
“I heard you let yourself sink to the prince’s level,” Clover noted.
“I’m not going to try to make any excuses, if that’s what you’re looking for.”
“No, but you’d better not lose.”
“Believe me, I have no intention of doing so,” Vital said as he looked curiously at her garb. “By the way, just what were you trying to do, anyways?”
“Burn the hydrogen out of H2O.”
“Why burn it when you can just separate it? Wouldn’t burning consume the oxygen just as quickly as the hydrogen?”
“Science.” Clover shrugged.
Vital Spark deadpanned. “Clover, remind me to introduce you to a chemist when we open the borders properly between the worlds.”
“Where's the fun in that?” Clover asked. “Sometimes science for science's sake is what makes it worthwhile.”
“In that case, get some potassium chlorate, a burner, and some gummy bears. Have I got a trick for you.” Vital Spark grinned.
“You’re on.” Clover chuckled as she left to acquire the ingredients in question.
“Note to self. If I ever want to divert Clover’s attention, utilize a promise of an alluring experiment,” he said as he prepared the lab equipment for Clover’s return.
Pensword walked into Hammer Strike’s office, and stood at attention. The lord was busy working on a sketch.
Hammer Strike sighed as he put his quill down. “What’s the problem, Pensword?”
Pensword sighed. “I . . . I goofed, Hammer Strike. And now I am going to be spending the next week on clouds away from my family for it. I . . . I lost my gift, Hammer Strike. Grif says my thaumic field, that . . . strange thing you do, is the cause. The way Grif talks, it doesn’t sound like magic.” He shuddered. “I suppose I should just say it. According to Grif, my field is dim, and I am already chewing my own hide for letting this happen. I thought–.” He groaned, and shook his head. “I thought I could push it off till after the nobles left, and then there was the attack we just lived through. . . .”
“No!” Hammer Strike’s voice snapped like a whip. “You didn’t think you could push it to past the nobles. You pushed it back for much, much longer. I warned you, technically years ago, that this would happen. Grif warned you. Even Vital caught on, and warned you after he found out how vital that field is for us. He literally pulled you aside, and explained how the benefits you’ve been experiencing because of that field would slowly disappear, because he was concerned for you. But even after that heartfelt warning, you still kept pushing it off. You even seemed disgusted at the idea of even having it.”
Pensword had nothing to say in his defense. He sighed. “And I am reaping what I have sowed.” He dropped his head to the ground as his ears lowered. “I am messed up. I guess . . . I guess I was angry at it for keeping me from going home, that it was what would keep me from my family. And then the Third Gryphon War happened.” He plopped onto his rump. “I’m a thick steaming mess, aren't I? I’m pretty good at hiding it from others, but I’m a mess when it comes to this. I don’t know why I hate it so much, but I do. It’s irrational. My hate of Gryphons can be explained, but this … you three can handle it. And you are right. I ignored it. I don’t know why. I ignored it, and I deserve what I’ve gotten,” he said gloomily.
“Be glad that it only took your gift from you,” Hammer Strike continued mercilessly. “It could have started by slowly killing you instead. It still can.” His eyes narrowed. “If you want to learn, then once those nobles are gone, you work on my schedule, my time. And if you dare try to work on this outside of training, I will personally make you regret it. I’ll have to talk with Grif about this, because some exercises, I can’t work with you on. It might overpower your field. And in this fragile state, if it breaks, it could kill you.” Hammer Strike rolled his eyes as he grabbed his quill again.
“And phrases like that remind me why this stuff freaks me out,” Pensword muttered.
“Get used to it, because I’m not going to lie. I’m going to tell you exactly as it is. If you didn’t come here, you would be dead. Maybe not today, maybe not for months, but you would be dead.”
Pensword stood stiffly, and saluted. “Understood, General.” He held his salute.
Hammer Strike sighed. “Keep it that way, because, as of this point, we aren’t talking like friends. Until training is over, I am Lord Hammer Strike, and I will not hold back.”
Pensword’s expression and military bearing broke. It looked like his heart had shattered. “U–understood, Milord.” He dropped his salute, then turned and left the room. His wings drooped, his wing tips dragged on the ground. For once, Pensword didn’t care.
Pensword slowly entered his office, and curled up in a corner. He draped a light blanket over himself as the tears pattered into the fabric. When he closed his eyes, he found himself back in the courtroom.
“I warned you! How many times did I tell you we needed to do this?” Matthew fumed as he sat on what appeared to be a rather uncomfortable stool. “Look what happened because you thought you could run from this!” He motioned around. The Thestral cavern had practically overrun Matthew’s domain, and his body looked sickly.
“Why should I have access to the power that could create a successful coup?” Pensword demanded. “What if I go crazy? What if Sombra succeeds, and I go dark?”
“That’s why you’re okay to learn this, why we’re okay to learn this. At least . . . it used to be we.” He clung to his arms as he leaned his elbows onto his legs. “You’re scared. I get that. But if we don’t do this, we’re both going to die. As it is, I hardly get to take control anymore, and it’s draining me. We need to do this for both our sakes.”
“And why should I take the cheating way?” Pensword demanded.
Matthew looked like he wanted to rise. He almost did, before he fell back onto the stool again with a fatigued sigh. He shook his head tiredly. “This isn’t cheating, Pensword. Were the trebuchets cheating when Lunar Fang had to help guard Fillydelphia? Were crossbolts deemed illegal after they were developed? That isn’t a way to cheat. It’s a resource, knowledge that we can use to help. To help ourselves, to help me, to let us see our family again. If nothing else, can you imagine what it would be like not having that power against the Changelings? If it weren’t for our family, we wouldn’t have won the war. That gift is fueled by our field, my field. And we’re both dying. But if we strengthen it, find balance again, think of what we could accomplish. We could join Hammer Strike at his side in the heat of battle. We can protect the innocent, push back our enemies, be an example of strength and mercy both.”
“And become feared like he is? Like Celestia was at a the end of the Third Gryphon War?” He moved a wing. “Look what happened tonight. In one night, this ‘field’ turned my family away. I lost my old friend. Grif will most likely turn tomorrow. I am going to be alone, because no one can stand the old war horse.”
“Don’t you dare say that,” Matthew growled as he stepped forward. He stumbled and grasped the stool for support. His legs trembled. “You are not a failure. Grif and Taze are our best friends, and they’re one and the same. They will be there to help you, not abandon you. As for Lunar Fang, once we’ve set things right again, she should hopefully forgive us on her own. Hammer Strike is angry, because of the danger you put us both in, especially me in this case.”
“. . . But what about Moon River?.”
“We don’t know. But even so, we need be ready, in case she does manifest one. You’ll be the only one who can teach her.” Matthew shook his head as he plopped back onto the stool again. “You’re scared, and that’s good. I fear the atom bomb, and yet I wouldn’t shy away from it, if I had to be in charge of one. You know how to be accountable. You know how to deal with responsibility well. You can do this.” He struggled to rise, but the effort proved too great. “Now get over here, and give me a hug.”
“Matthew. . . .”
“Hey. No beating yourself up now. You saw your mistakes. Now make up for them by doing the right thing. Everyone is trying to help us, and you are currently being a very stubborn cadet.”
“But I am going to be calling him Lord Hammer Strike for the rest of my life. He is never going to be done training me.”
“He stopped for Celestia, didn’t he?”
Pensword sniffled. “... Yes.”
“Then he’ll lighten up for us, too, once he’s satisfied. It’ll just take some time. And if that means a couple of months having to deal with him as the stony lord, so be it. He does it because he cares.” Matthew smiled.
“You are always hoping for the best outcome,” Pensword growled. “How can you be so confident?”
“Because I know my friends. And if you doubt them, then you need to get to know them again, too.”
Pensword felt the spontaneous urge to nicker as he felt Matthew’s fingers running through his mane. Since when had he gotten so close to the stool? But . . . who cared? Those fingers felt so good!
Matthew chuckled. “Get some sleep, Pensword. We’ll need to enjoy it while we still can. We won’t be getting much, once Shawn starts, unless he gives us energy drink crystals or something.” Matthew slowly began to fade away. “Remember, Pensword. It’s in your hooves now. I’m trusting you.”
That was the last Pensword heard as the cave overtook everything. The moonstones shone gently over the cavern. They seemed almost to spin as they pulsed, and the Pegasus plopped down onto his rump. “Why me?” he groaned as he slumped to the ground, and let the blackness take over.
“Twenty!” Grif fumed. “Half of them volunteers! How are twenty Crystal Ponies sadistic enough to want to join the branch that has the hardest physical training program?” He looked to Hammer Strike. “Those, on top of the leftover guard, and my other responsibilities. I’m not sure how I’m going to keep up.”
“Don’t ask me. I still have more than enough to figure out on my own,” Hammer Strike muttered. “Start bigger classes or something. Develop insomnia, and train over the course of the day. I don’t know.”
“Says the one with the fully autonomous guard branch.” Grif rolled his eyes. “When was the last time you actually had them do anything?”
“They helped with the changelings,” Hammer Strike shrugged.
“You should try and at least say something to them.” Grif sighed.
“I do. You just aren’t exactly around twenty-four/seven to see it.”
“More than seven words?” Grif raised an eyebrow.
“Yes.”
“More than eight words?”
“I’m not that anti-social, Grif,” Hammer Strike replied with a frown. “Close, but not quite there.”
“You wanted to see me, Grif?” Pensword asked as he walked into the room.
“Well, Pensword, you sorted the new Crystal troops based on preference, and what they volunteered for, right?”
“Correct, Grif, but your troops are getting large enough you need to find those that can do certain jobs. I may be the commander of the troops, but I have those under me to help with the trench work. My advice, make captains of hundreds, fifties, and tens,” he said as he settled into a spare chair.
“I was avoiding it, so when you take the military, you won’t have trouble about who keeps their ranks and who doesn’t,” Grif replied.
“Well, that can be done when we get to that point. We have precedent. After all, the militaries of the three tribes were meshed together, and, frankly, I see the Rohirrim as their own brigade. I might have to put in a general, but you created the structure underneath. Just try and use this structure here.” He handed over a scroll displaying the theoretical command structure for the army.
“I’ll work it out then,” Grif said, taking the scroll. “Honestly, the Crystal Ponies worry me. This morning, I found half of them in borrowed full suits of armor, and the ones who couldn’t find armor had the saddlebags full of rocks I use for punishments. And they were stuffing them with more rocks!”
Pensword laughed. “Look into the Crystal Pony military history then. Also, they’re Crystal Ponies. Remember, you helped to save their land. They worship us, so they are going to try and impress you by doing whatever they can. The Crystal Ponies I met this morning were all trying to get hooves on longbows, and working to learn the Earth Movers’ techniques, which, actually, I had to confiscate two of their manuals, since we no longer have those copies.” He looked to Grif. “Careful. I might just turn you into the birth of Equestria’s Marines. They might care for their armor, but it probably will not be the most shiny. However, I expect you to have the most pristine dress uniforms,” he added with a grin.
“Oh. You stop at Marines, but the way I push them, you’d think I was trying for Navy Seals,” Grif chuckled.
“Then we might be drawing from you for the birth of our special forces of Navy Seals, Rangers, Delta teams.” Pensword’s mouth twitched, then rapidly pulled up into a grin that stretched to the point where it looked almost like a certain purple mare’s, after she’d had a mental breakdown. “I wonder when I can get some World War One tanks. We need a Merrimack soon.”
Grif scrunched his brow together as he put a contemplating hand beneath his beak. “Has anyone seen Vital this morning? Clover sent me a message saying he wouldn’t be there for physical training. I’m hoping he’s not sick or something.”
Pensword hummed to himself as he tapped his chin with a pondering hoof. “I agree. Though I have heard some rumors from the Unicorns. Nothing concrete, of course, but when I get close to them, they get rather quiet. Something is definitely going on.”
“Well,” Hammer Strike finally started, “if something is happening, one of us will get alerted to it. Like we potentially will be in less than two seconds.”
Three firm knocks sounded on the door.
“Enter.”
A fully recovered Polished Brass made his way in, levitating a polished silver tray in his magic as he approached. “A message for you from Lady Clover, Sir.”
“Okay?”
Polished Brass levitated the platter to hover in front of his employer, before sweeping the letter off onto the table, and reclaiming the platter. “Will there be anything else, Sir?”
“That’ll be all, thank you,” Hammer Strike replied as he began reading.
“Yes, Sir.” Polished Brass bowed, and made his way out again.
Hammer Strike finished off his drink as he read. After a moment, he placed the cup down, and proceeded to pocket the letter.
“Should we be concerned with that letter?” Pensword asked
“Whats up?” Grif pressed.
“. . . I know where Vital Spark is.”
Vital Spark cradled his staff as he peered down its length. Despite all the time he’d spent with it, he still hadn’t come up with a proper name for it. “Well, this is going to be interesting,” he told it. “We’re going to have some real combat for once. I’m . . . not exactly sure how this is all going to go down, or if you’re even aware of what I’m saying, but . . . well, I guess good luck out there?” Silence greeted him. “Right. You can’t talk. And I’m talking to an inanimate object . . . which would generally certify me for the looney bin.” He sighed. “Yeah. I should probably just go now, shouldn’t I?” He waited a few more seconds, then hovered the staff onto his back. It seemed almost to glow at the point where the pearl rested in the flower-like housing. He sighed again, then braced himself, before pushing open the doors to the courtyard with his magic.
The entire wall was ringed in by guards. Blueblood stood in the courtyard with his father, and what appeared to be a smaller Earth Pony in full combat armor. Blueblood himself wore what appeared to be some kind of light breastplate with gold engraving and an enamel to give it just the right sheen in the sun when polished properly. His mane flowed gravely behind him in the wind as the other nobles who had come in the visiting party watched from a hastily crafted set of bleachers. As Vital Spark drew closer to the inevitable battle, he noticed the sky appeared to be swarming with Pegasi. He simply shrugged as he felt the heavy leather armor shift again. The familiar scent of the cleaning materials used to maintain the leather hovered around his nose as he stepped forward, and removed his helmet.
“You brought an audience?”
“Of course I did. I need witnesses to praise me when I’m finished with you.”
“Actually, I’m a little surprised you showed up,” Vital Spark said. “You never really struck me as the fighting type. Then again, I never struck me as the fighting type either.” He levitated his focus, and seized it in his hooves, giving it an experimental twirl. “I’m guessing you want this to be a standard duel. No killing, but first one to yield or suffer a ring out is deemed victor?”
“Yes,” Blueblood said in a bored tone.
“And the weapon?”
“We will rely merely on the power of our horns,” Prince Blueblood said.
Vital Spark shrugged. “Fine with me.” He nodded to the elder of the two. “Baron.”
Baron Blueblood merely nodded at Vital Spark indignantly.
“I’m afraid I don’t have a second, but since this is solely a duel of magics, I don’t think we’ll really be needing them anyways,” Vital Spark said as he laid his focus down. “You know, it’s funny. I think this is the first real fight I’ve been able to have in this thing.” He chuckled. “What are the odds?”
“You can amuse yourself later, Peasant,” Prince Blueblood snapped.
Vital Spark shrugged. “You know, you really need to learn to lighten up more. That, and to actually listen, instead of overreacting, and pretending to be superior to everypony else. Seriously, it’s no wonder your other staff was so grateful to be with Hammer Strike.”
Prince Blueblood growled as he charged his horn. In a flash of light, the magic around said horn formed a curved blade.
“And who’s going to officiate?” Vital Spark asked.
Baron blueblood opened his mouth to speak when an axe blade dug into the ground less than a foot in front of him.
“Why, Baron, surely you are aware of the rules that prevent family of one party from officiating a duel,” an all-too-familiar voice spoke up as Luna landed with a boom on the ground beside the axe. “Dueling is, after all, a practice I, myself, brought into being. As such, I have hunted down the perfect offical for this.” Her horn glowed brightly, and an elderly unicorn appeared in the courtyard, looking confused. He had a deep grey mane, and his coat was only slightly lighter. His cutie mark was the white and black shirt of a referee, a shirt he, himself, currently wore. It was, admittedly, hard to miss his large bushy mustache.
“Where am I?” he asked as he swayed briefly on his hooves. “One minute I was on line at Donut Joe’s, the next thing I know, I’m here.” He squinted at Luna. “What’s going on here, Princess?”
“I am sorry, my friend, but we require a referee for a magical duel. Would you be willing to aid us?” Luna asked.
The Unicorn took a minute to take in the field, before his eyes widened. He gave Luna a determined nod, before clearing his throat, and releasing in a dusty, but surprisingly loud voice. “Well then. If it’s agreed, I declare this match a submission magic duel. In accordance with Canterlot Magical combat rules, I shall referee! Me, Mister Referee!”
Vital Spark deadpanned. “Does he have to be so flamboyant?”
“Yes. It’s part of his charm. Never before have I found somepony so determined to prevent unnecessary injuries, and enforce fair play,” Luna said happily.
“Have we missed it?” Pensword panted as he landed in the courtyard close to the walls to make sure he wasn’t in the way. Lunar Fang landed on one of the walls with Moon River, knowing full well that the combatants were outside of the range of her toy crossbow. Fox Feather landed on the rampart of one of the completed towers for her view.
“We wondered what was keeping you, Mon Commander,” Khan said with a mirthful chuckle.
“Running the Military is hard work. Besides, you guys kept this under wraps pretty well. I knew nothing about it till Hammer Strike received a letter,” Pensword replied as the Unicorns took their sides. “I want to see how Vital’s training is coming along.”
“I want to see him wipe the floor with Blueblood,” Grif said as he landed beside the others with a large tub of popcorn.
“The gamblers will have a hard time earning a profit today, unless they manage to get the nobles involved, of course,” Khan said.
Meanwhile, Hammer Strike was at the far point of the clearing, slowly making his way over to the group.
Vital Spark simply braced himself as he entered into a defensive stance. “Ready when you are, Mister Referee.”
“The rules are simple. The first mage to submit or be knocked out of the ring loses. The loser must then acknowledge the victor’s prowess. Everypony ready? Then, Unicorns, let’s mage battle!”
Vital Spark maintained a cautious stance as he waited. Even before he’d started training with the Rohirrim, he knew the importance of gauging the enemy’s strength and tactics. He would need to be careful, if he wanted to stand a chance of winning. And considering how little the prince had been willing to listen, this seemed the only means to get through to him.
Blueblood charged Vital Spark, taking wide sweeps with the blade.
Vital Spark jumped to the side, then rolled to avoid an overhead sweep, before jumping up, and running to the other side of the makeshift arena.
“So, the Peasant is a coward,” Blueblood quipped as he watched Vital dance about the field to avoid the construct. “He can’t even conjure a weapon.”
As Vital Spark lunged forward to dodge yet another strike, he charged his horn, and fired a blue beam directly at the prince.
Blueblood let out a gasp, and barely managed to stumble out of its way. A circular patch of slick ice materialized with a diameter a yard long. With Blueblood distracted, Vital took advantage of the opening to press the prince, and make it harder for the noble to focus on his spell.
“There’s more than one way to skin a cat,” Vital quipped as a sparkling clear blue mist eddied around his horn. He fired another shot at Blueblood’s hooves.
This time he hit dead on, as Blueblood was unable to dodge in time.
Vital Spark stared. “I’ll be honest. I wasn’t expecting that to happen,” he said as he began to approach. “Not that I’m complaining, mind you.”
Blueblood growled, and lashed out with his magical blade in several sweeps.
The mist that had been hovering around Vital Spark’s horn jumped out in front of him, and compounded into a thick icy staff glowing in his magical grip just as the blade was about to strike. “To quote a certain elderly Kitsune, ‘Magic must defeat magic.’” He smiled as he struck the magical construct, and swung it away like a bat would a baseball.
“Why . . . won’t . . . you . . . break?” Blueblood practically shouted as the staff took blow after blow.
“There’s more than one way to summon a weapon, Blueblood. I just utilized my magic to reinforce the ice, instead of using all my manna to concentrate into a single blade. It’s actually a lot more effective.”
“I will put you in your place,” Blueblood snarled as energy arced from his horn, and began to congeal beside the first sword, but even as the magic approached the shape of a second blade, it lost cohesion, and dissipated. “Curse you!” he roared as he struck out with the one construct once again.
Vital Spark continued his slow approach. His eyes were steady and determined, but not a word passed his lips as the contest of blade and staff continued. He stopped just a few feet away as Blueblood panted and snorted angrily.
“Blueblood, please. Just stop,” Vital said gently. “There’s nothing to prove here. Only lessons to learn, if you’re willing.”
“I do not need any education from you,” Blueblood spat.
Vital shook his head, and let out a sad sigh. “Is that you or your father talking?”
The blade that was about to strike Vital Spark in the back jerked to a halt in mid-air, even as the icy staff shifted to guard that very area. “... What are you implying?” Blueblood asked.
“It’s a simple question, Blueblood. I want to know if all this spoiled rotten attitude is coming from you, or if it’s just you trying to please your father.”
Blueblood simply glared at him.
Vital sighed. “I thought so.” He lowered his staff, and held it in one of his hooves. “You don’t have to be like him, you know. And you don’t have to worry about measuring up to whatever expectations he has for you. You can be your own Pony, try new things. Heck, you might actually like a few of them, if you’d give them a chance.” He smiled slightly. “So what do you say? Call it a draw?”
Prince Blueblood stammered, seemingly unable to respond, while Baron Blueblood seethed behind him, glaring daggers.
“I’ll take that as a yes.” Vital Spark’s smile widened as he released the ice binding Blueblood, and extended a hoof.
Blueblood said nothing, did nothing. He stood there with the look of a Pony whose entire life was unraveling before his eyes. The magic on his horn flickered, then died as the blade disappeared.
Whatever would have happened next was washed out of the realm of possibility when Baron Blueblood barked, “Hit him, you fool!”
In his stupor, Blueblood yelped, reacting on instinct as he shot a blast of magic straight at Vital Spark point blank.
A dark blue light flashed, and dust filled the arena. Nobles and soldiers alike were on their hooves and paws respectively, and Pensword, Grif, and Hammer Strike looked like they were ready to leap into the field when a sudden gust scattered the breeze to reveal Princess Luna in all her glory. Her mane glittered brilliantly as she slowly allowed her magic to dissipate. Her wings tucked neatly against her side. Her crown and torc reflected the sun’s rays with a sparkling sheen as the crescent moon glowed silver.
“This match is over.” Her voice boomed over the makeshift arena as she fixed the baron with a glare that was far more intense, and much more ancient. “There was to be no outside interference. Because of your pride, Baron Blueblood, an innocent was nearly killed. At the very least, if he was lucky, he likely would have been crippled. It took our sister over a week to recover from such an attack after the royal wedding, and she is an Alicorn.” Her tone shifted dramatically as it grew deeper, silkier, and dripping with a barely-contained rage that bordered on the cataclysmic. “Do you know, Baron, what would have happened, not only to your son, but to you, if I had not been able to stop this foolishness? Do you?” She flared her wings as her gaze intensified, and it seemed as if the very shadows were being sucked towards her. “Answer me,” she ordered.
“He would have been imprisoned,” the baron said with a gulp, as though he were swallowing nails, “for life.”
“That would be your son’s sentence under normal circumstances, yes. Your’s, however, Blueblood, would be far worse, ” Princess Luna growled. “This ‘peasant,’ as you two have so callously called him, is a personal friend to many powerful Ponies, and holds many titles.” She turned to the Pony she had just protected. “Tell them your name.”
Vital Spark lowered his head. “Vital Spark,” he said quietly.
“Also known as Vital the Virtuous, Clover the Clever’s personal apprentice, and a duly appointed member with good standing in Lord Hammer Strike’s household,” Luna proclaimed. “Believe me, Baron Blueblood, had that blow succeeded in hitting its mark, life imprisonment would be the lightest punishment your son could expect, and you would foolishly be responsible for plunging this kingdom into civil war. I cannot speak for Hammer Strike myself, but if I were in his position, and had watched your son murder someone so close, I would not rest, until I had my vengeance against you and all of yours.” Her eyes narrowed into slits. “Pack your things, Baron. You and your son are coming back to Canterlot with me, immediately. Your son and I have much to discuss.”
Baron Blueblood choked up the words, “Yes, your highness.”
Prince Blueblood sobbed.
“On second thought, I will have your things sent to you. We leave for Canterlot immediately.” Luna placed a gentle wing on Vital Spark’s flank, and nuzzled him consolingly. “Go to the others,” she whispered. “It will be all right.”
“. . . Luna.”
“Go on,” she said, more firmly this time, as she took Prince Blueblood in her magic, and laid him next to his father. “I apologize for having to leave you all so quickly, but this is a matter that must be tended to immediately. I shall return after I have apprised my sister of the events that have transpired here. Mister Referee, if you would kindly accompany us, your presence is also required.”
The grey Unicorn nodded silently as he approached the party.
“Until next time, my dear subjects. Farewell.” And in a bright blue flash, they were gone.
Pensword looked about at the band he had assembled.
“Alright, ladies and gentlecolts. You know your orders. Get those instruments ready. We are going to send those nobles off with joy and vigor.” He chuckled. They would show proper respect, of course, but this was a welcome time for them as well. Then they could focus on recovering lost time. While Fancy Pants was always a welcome guest, most of the other nobles were just pains in the flank to deal with.
Grif had taken a rather different approach for his part of the sendoff. The path out of New Unity was lined with Bladefeathers in full battle array standing shoulder to shoulder right to the Everfree boundary. They were all visibly armed, but seemingly motionless.
Fancy Pants and Fleur de Lis sighed as they each bid Hammer Strike their farewells.
“I truly am sorry about what happened, Hammer Strike. If there’s anything you need from us, we’ll be happy to help in any way we can.”
“Yes. We had no idea zat ze baron would go so far as to attack your friend,” Fleur added.
“Keep me fully updated on what happens to him, would you?” Hammer Strike questioned.
“Of course, old boy. I’ll see if I can’t pull in a few favors, too. It’s clear that the Baron means business here, if he’s willing to go that far. We can’t allow that to continue. Oh, incidentally, I found this under my door after I finished packing this morning. It’s addressed to you. I’m afraid I don’t recognize the writing, though.” He frowned as he pulled out a somewhat crumpled envelope. “I’m sorry to say, I accidentally stepped on it on the way out.”
Hammer Strike raised a brow as he took the envelope. “Strange that they would know you would get it to me. Thank you, nonetheless.”
“I took ze liberty of scanning ze letter for any threats. Zere do not seem to be any spells attached, and zere is no sign of any kind of tampering or poison.”
Hammer Strike gave a soft grin. “Thank you for checking, but if whoever wrote this wanted to harm me in any way, it’d have to be something . . . drastic.”
Fleur sighed as they made their way towards the other nobles in the hall. Their time together was coming to an end. “Be well, Hammer Strike.”
Pensword stood passively, and watched as events passed on in preparation for the ultimate departure of their guests. He flicked his eyes up to the wall, where the Demon Slayers stood watch. He saw the speck on the horizon, and nodded as Duke Hurricane landed, and saluted the commander.
Pensword returned the salute, held it a moment, and dropped it, even as they murmured about the military action the pair had just exchanged.
“I am sorry we couldn’t hold a war game,” Duke Hurricane said.
“I know.” Pensword sighed. “Maybe next time?” He smiled. “I think it would be fun to have a time to play.” He nodded. “I shall keep you apprised on the bill.”
“I am honored that you’re willing to do so. The Hurricanes haven’t been much with the military over the last couple of generations; however, I hope you will find a spot for us once things are set in place.”
“You don’t even need to ask. Good luck. And may we be able to handle the first joint session of the noble houses meeting.”
“Faust and Sleipnir willing,” he said, before he joined the rest of the crowd.
The Pony who approached Grif was a well-dressed Unicorn with all the trappings of a noble, but no one seemed to be able to name who he was.
“Tell the bureau that Baron Blueblood’s schedule is now the highest priority,” Grif whispered into his ear. “I want to know where he sleeps, what he eats, where his butler’s cousin's roommate went on vacation three years ago. Everything. Authorization code Ace Six Nine Seven Eight Three Five. Understood?”
The Pony nodded to him, before mixing his way into the crowd.
Pensword held his emotions in check as Baron Sharp Spear walked up and got into his muzzle. “I insist that I stay, and–.”
“This is for your own good,” Pensword said, cutting off Sharp Spear’s protest, before it could even start. “Because of what the Bluebloods did, we are all more than a little uptight, and everypony in this castle has little trust or tolerance for nobles right now, so this is for your own protection. I assure you that I will send Princesses Celestia or Luna a letter the moment your son is able to see visitors, and I will make sure you have the guest quarters in my section of the castle, and that you can stay as long as I can allow within my power.”
Baron Sharp Spear had little recourse in the matter, when faced with the cold facts, and the cold glares from the troops lining the halls. He nodded his head numbly as his face slipped into that peculiar neutrality that all sapient creatures experience when dealing with sorrow.
“I . . . thank you. Can you at least tell me what you’re doing now that I’m leaving?”
“I’m sorry, but that is still classified.” Pensword shook his head. “But we are doing the best we can. You will have the news soon, I hope.” With those words, Baron Sharp Spear had little recourse. He joined his fellow nobles to begin the long journey home. Pensword waited till he was out of earshot. “Even if you disown him, he will always have a cadet branch in my house. I will take care of him. I swear it.”
Grif and Pensword were currently sitting far away from New Unity, where the troops were just beginning to work on clearing away trees from the Everfree. Grif had his copy of the book out, and watched carefully as Pensword reviewed the chapter.
“Now Hammer Strike asked me to take you out here for this first step, but don’t think I’ll be any easier on you then he would be. Everything from here on out is going to require time and patience. What we’re going to be working on today is feeling the aspects out.”
“Okay,” Pensword mumbled. “You two are going to enjoy this. The great commander, a private in your ranks. I still feel uneasy about using knowledge that can kill way too easily.”
Grif held up a talon. In his other hand, he held up a rock. With a single swipe of his talons, and a screech, he left a deep gouge in the stone. “Because we can’t kill otherwise?”
“But we need to think about it, be knowing. All I have heard is the dangers. Tell me something good about this. Because all I have heard from you and Shawn so far is how it can destroy worlds, mess things up, etc. What is the plus?” Pensword asked, crossing his hooves. “The atom is both deadly and useful. Where is the usefulness here, besides keeping me alive?”
Grif flicked Pensword on the forehead. “No. All you’ve heard is the bad. You’ve ignored the good when we’ve mentioned it. Now pay attention. Thaumaturgy can have many beneficial effects, like healing non-fatal injuries. With the right discipline, a skilled thaumaturgist can alter the growth patterns of plants, or simulate the energy of the sun where growing crops might be difficult. It’s no more or less of a toss up than magic,” Grif pointed out. “Is Luna a hazard to her people because she wields stronger magic?”
“No, but . . . look, I don’t know why, but I just don’t feel comfortable with this.” He flapped a wing. “I am comfortable with these, but I still don’t get this energy, this field.
“Maybe you haven’t felt the right kind of energy,” Grif said as he reached into his bag, and removed several small crystals. “I’ve brought several crystallized aspects here to help you get a feel for the different energies.”
“I . . . guess that could work,” Pensword murmured.
“Lets try something more relaxed.” Grif held up a shining white crystal in his talons. “This is ordo, the aspect of order. I always found it has a calm, comforting feel too it.”
“I would like to try, I guess,” Pensword groused. “I’ve been a poor listener to this part.”
“Tell me something. Why do you think I took to learning this?”
“I don’t know. You took to it like an otter to the water?”
Grif stared Pensword down. “I’m scared, too, Pensword. I wasn’t given a choice to entering this thaumaturgy thing either. I woke up with this field, and, honestly, by the time I found out there was a way to get rid of it, I couldn’t. I’m scared of what that could mean for me, of what I could do, of what it could do to me, to others, but ignorance isn’t the answer. It wouldn’t just kill me. It could kill Shrial, Avalon, my twin girls, and everyone else. I may not have asked to wield this sword, but I’d rather know how to use it, rather than the possible alternative.”
“I suppose you’re right,” Pensword conceded with a sigh as he drooped his head, and stared at the ground. “Can I be honest?”
“You can tell me anything. You know that, Pensword,” Grif said.
“I am scared this is going to turn into math. Did you know my father can use a slide rule still? My brother is great at math, and so was my grandfather, and I am great at math, but I . . . I fear I will have the same problem with you and Shawn in thaumaturgy as I do with my father in math. He always looked at me with displeasure when I used a calculator or my fingers. What if it is the same way with this, with cheat sheets and the like?”
“Neither of us is here to judge you, Pensword. And, honestly, I’m probably worse at math than you are. The only way you could disappoint us is to neglect your safety. How would you feel if Moon River neglected some potentially dangerous aspect of her life?”
“I would be more upset about myself not teaching her what is needed.” Pensword’s expression hardened with determination as his head rose to look Grif in the eye. “Okay, lay it on me. What do these crystals do? Can we start there? Start at the beginning?”
Grif nodded. “That’s more like it. Okay. To start, let's go back to your comparison to nuclear physics. What is everything made of?”
“Mass and Energy,” Pensword answered.
“And all mass in the universe is formed from?”
“Atoms.”
“And atoms are formed from?”
“Energy.”
“Now thaumaturgy believes that the energy that forms atoms is distinctive, and, furthermore,” Grif waved his claws, and the wind followed them. “That manipulation of that energy can affect the makeup of our world. In short, it is Einstein's third law: Energy cannot be created or destroyed, only changed.”
“That is not Einstein's third law. That is the law of Conservation, which was older than Einstein.”
“Just the answer I expected.” Grif chuckled. “These crystals are just a manifestation of that energy, simply gathering it–” Grif held his claws together as a bright yellow glow began emanating from them “–and compressing it into a matter-like form.” He squeezed his claws together. When he parted them, a yellow crystal thrummed in his palm.
Pensword managed to keep his eyes from widening too much, and nodded his head. “I hope you don’t expect me to do that today.”
“No,” Grif said adamantly. “Hammer Strike will need to teach you that. For now, close your eyes, and relax.”
Pensword did as he was told, and took a series of slow and easy breaths.
“Now, when you're calm, push out gently. The world will probably feel a little funny, but, for now, try to feel out the small spark of warmth. It should be like seeing a tiny light in a dark room: not very bright, but visible amongst everything else.”
“Push out with what?” he asked. “Sense with what?”
“Have you ever noticed a kind of tingling in the back of your mind when your relatives talked to you?”
Pensword nodded, even as he kept his eyes closed. “Yes, but all Thestrals that speak like I do have that feeling.” He took on a confused look. “What do I do with that tingle when I feel it?”
“When you're feeling it tingle, that's the spirit aspect touching your field. It’s acting like a radio signal amplifier, and that tingling is your thaumic field acting as the antenna. It’s why you’re able to pick things up so much better than ones who normally have the gift. But that's not just for receiving, Pensword. That also works for broadcasting.”
“Broadcasting?” Pensword broke out of his meditation as he balked at the Gryphon. “Uh, if I try to ‘broadcast,’ will you pick it up?”
“You won’t be aiming in my direction,” Grif instructed. “And anyway, as my field has no spirit aspect, and I don’t possess your Thestral gift, my field would simply push it away anyway. Think about the white crystal in my hand, and then reach for it in the back of your mind.”
Pensword returned to his mediation, calmed his mind, and did what was asked. He focused, until he found the tingle, and, from there, he tried to find the crystal in Grif’s talons. Locating the tingling was easy enough. He’d had enough experience speaking with the dead to recognize it, but locating the crystal was another thing entirely.
It took several tries, each comprising at least twenty minutes, but, finally, Pensword touched something, and was washed over by an overwhelming calm. Some of the tense muscles relaxed as he let the emotion wash over his being, and took in the reward for his actions.
“Ordo represents calm, order, and harmony in the universe. It isn’t quite as potent as some aspects, but it has a relaxing feel to it. However, like all things, it’s also to be held with caution. After all, order is best expressed in death.”
“I agree. Death can be dangerous. However, I think I have experienced those strong feelings. This was a heavy concentration, but I could feel a tiny bit of it whenever I talked to my loved ones, so I think we have no problem with me trying to overdo the order.”
Over the next couple of hours, Pensword found himself experiencing the heat from the hottest fires he’d ever felt, the shock of an entire thunderstorm striking him at once, and numerous other sensations, some of which he could not yet understand.
Grif slowly, and carefully, packed the thaumic crystals away as Pensword came to after his last ordeal. “And now you’ve felt the building blocks of creation, my friend. It really changes your view on the universe, doesn’t it?”
“I . . . there is a lot here I need to mull over. I am guessing you get to pick our next meeting?” Pensword asked.
“No. I give you your homework,” Grif said. “You need to memorize the first chapter of the book, and the name of the seven basic aspects, and you’ll need to start feeling out the aspects around you at least twice a day. As for your next lesson, that will be Hammer Strike’s job, when he thinks you’re ready. The next chapter involves things I’m barely allowed to practice with myself.”
“I thought this first week was just chapter one, something to see how I get a handle on it.”
“You will need to exercise this on your own. Gathering energy, and crystallizing it, are the same lesson, as one follows after the other. Just don’t try it until Hammer Strike tells you you can.”
“Very well,” Pensword answered. He felt rather confused, but he would do his best to just sense these aspects he’d been exposed to.
“If you need help, come see me, but don’t try to manipulate the energy until Shawn's lesson. I mean it. Believe me, Twilight is still last to get new chapters of the book for that little stunt she pulled in her basement.”
“I have no plan to practice what I don’t know.”
“Good. Then I’ll see you in a day or two to check on your progress.”
Pensword nodded. “Until then, Grif.”
And with that, the Gryphon flew off for his compound.
Extended Holiday Ch 107: Going to need a list for this. . . Act 16: Seasons Begin
Pensword walked down the caves as he followed Queen Me-Me to the chamber where Silver Spear was being held in stasis.
“Are you sure he is getting better?” he asked as they looked about the walls.
“His leg has grown back, and the horn’s ley texture is almost fully restored. The brain tissue requires a bit more work, but we believe his eye is fully reconnected,” Me-Me explained.
“How much longer will he need to stay in the cocoon?”
“That depends on him at this point. He will emerge when he is ready, as all of my children do.”
“Is . . . well, is he in the hive? Are you at least sensing him? I doubt he would be able to communicate with it yet.”
“Yes, his presence is already noted within the hive,” Me-Me admitted. “However, as to the degree, we cannot be certain.”
“Understood,” Pensword replied. “I hope you don’t mind my wishing to check on him. Just do your best to keep him calm.”
“Of course. Actually, while you’re here, I wished to show you something anyway. I’ve been thinking about making a change to my drones, and eventually myself, to better distinguish us from my mother's hive.”
“Right. I am worried there was some form of friendly fire. What is this change?” he asked as a smile slowly spread on his muzzle. It did little to lessen the sadness at Silver Spear’s fate, but any chance to help increase the tactical advantage against Chrysalis was a welcome distraction.
Me-Me looked towards a hallway. A few minutes later, a small still-developing drone scampered in. His chitin was a polished metallic red in color.
Pensword fought Matthew’s mind as he thought of the old RTS games with different colored units. He smiled, and nodded his head. “This looks like a great idea. I definitely approve. How did you get the color to change?”
“I simply re-arranged some of the nutrients in the chitin to change its coloring. By concentrating a higher portion of iron near the surface, the pigmentation changes to match.”
Pensword nodded. “Makes sense. And it makes it easier to spot your children during wartime, which is definitely good.”
“It also is seventeen percent lighter without sacrificing defense,” she noted. “It will take a while to progress through the older changelings, but I’ve begun making sure all the nymphs will be this shade.”
“That is very good,” Pensword agreed. “Lighter armor means faster movement. I am glad to hear your defense was not compromised.”
“It was very kind of Grif to lend me those textbooks on human gene therapy, and all they had discovered about DNA.”
“He did what?” Pensword stopped dead in his tracks. “Are you saying that you, uh, if you take a piece of my mane, could you start sequencing our DNA as well? I . . . do you realize that if we work this right, you could be able to create a healing spa to help heal practically any Pony of sickness? Why, it could heal practically any species, provided you can decode the DNA properly.”
“That was Grif’s belief as well, along with other beneficial effects. Many queens study hard to gain knowledge on how genetics work to create their Changelings, but, with this information, I think I will be able to adapt to many new ideas.”
“I look forward to hearing what happens.” Now the smile was more genuine. “Thank you. I needed that. Now, shall we go see how Silver Spear is doing? Your son can come along as well, if he wishes.”
“Ah, so you’ve finally learned how to tell them apart.” Me-Me smiled as she levitated the drone onto her back. It chittered happily as they walked. “Pensword, you haven’t showed your daughter where the entrance to my hive is, have you?” Me-Me asked.
“No, I have not. Do you wish for her to be shown, or has she found her way in already?”
“Last week, my guards found her napping with my sister in her chamber. The sentries never saw her enter, and we have no idea how she got so far into the hive undetected.”
“She is already being tapped for special training by High Chieftess Luna,” Pensword replied. “I fear she might be . . . well, I am going to have a friend of mine give her a checkup, because even I don’t think I could get that far undetected, even if one of your daughters or sons were to hide me.”
“Ah, not that she is unwelcome. It was just confusing.”
“Half my days with her are like that. Oh, and just a warning. She might try to use your hive as a place to stash her toy bolts. Also, I heard a rumor that a Dwarf wishes to speak with you. We can discuss that after we see Silver Spear.”
“You are certain you’re prepared, then?”
“As prepared as I can ever be.”
“Very well.” They entered the chamber, where the semi-transparent cocoon-like structure glowed with four Changelings monitoring and feeding love and magic into it. Two praetorians watched over the entrance, and four more stood guard within the chamber itself. The pod glowed green, and much like other hive cocoons, revealed the Pony floating within the substance. Silver Spear looked drastically different from when Pensword had seen him last. His mane and tail had regrown, and looked even longer than average, a sign of the extended time in the pod, as well as the accelerated healing his body was being put through. The area around his left eye was covered with smooth white chitin. His horn was curved and sharp like a knife. His leg had regrown as Pensword had been told, but it was not a normal Pony’s leg anymore. In its place, something more insectile had grown, covered with smooth chiton, but rather than the usual black that Me-Me’s drones bore, his was the same copper color as his coat. At the place where the new leg met his barrel, it appeared the fur had been shed, and the skin seemed to be hardening to join the rest of the mass, before stopping around his shoulder blades.
“How much more will he be changing?” Pensword asked as he looked over Silver Spear’s form.
“We’re not entirely sure. This is a new procedure, after all,” Me-Me said. “We hope that the changes will halt as soon as his body finishes healing.”
“Understood.” Pensword nodded as he looked at the Unicorn, and sighed as guilt shot through him once again. “And we can work to try and find a way to regrow limbs and organs without the problem of having them become part of your hive. Some might agree to it, but others would likely see it as a form of infiltration on your part.”
“I’ve been analyzing his unaltered DNA when possible, and I think I may have some ideas on that front.”
“I’ll be sure to find out what we can do in the future for field testing these ideas.” He looked sadly at Silver Spear, and whispered, “I hope you do not hate me for what I had to do.”
“Would you prefer to be alone with him?” Me-Me asked softly as she laid a supportive hoof on his side.
“I would like that. Just for a while,” he answered. “Thank you, Me-Me.”
“No problem,” Me-Me said as she left the chamber.
Vital Spark jerked awake and panted as his focus flew to his side. Sweat coursed down his face, and his heart hammered in his chest. The cool air of twilight filtered through his window, and he let his eyes rove over the room as his magic cast its illumination over the stones. Something had broken his sleep, but he couldn’t tell what. He slowly got out of bed, and shivered as his body shook from the adrenaline wearing off. Something must have spooked him in his sleep, but he couldn’t even begin to remember the last time a nightmare had done that large a number on him. Besides, wasn’t Luna supposed to be patrolling the dream plane anyways? He remembered . . . a scream, maybe?
He yawned as he approached the window, and looked out into the Everfree forest. He rubbed his eyes a few times, then gave a start as he took a closer look. Something was writhing over the pathways like snakes, and he could hear a dark, almost constant hiss carrying over the distance.
“Oh snap,” he gasped.
Near the Bladefeather compound, a blur seemed to be moving rapidly in front of the gate, cutting the vines as they grew, while humming the theme from Freakazoid.
What looked like thick, fleshy black pods lay limp along the castle’s ramparts. It didn’t take Vital Spark long to figure out where the guards likely were, and he could see more of the tendrils making their way towards the castle walls as the hissing grew louder. He bolted out from his room, and ran down the halls, yelling at the top of his lungs.
“Red alert! The castle is under attack! I repeat, the castle is under attack! Man your battle stations!” He continued to yell as he ran through the halls as quickly as he could, while he made his way for the ramparts. Just then, the Woody Woodpecker laugh sounded across the open air.
“I was yelling that already,” Pensword shouted back as he backed away from a window while vines grew through the opening to draw closer to the Unicorn. “But I am glad to see another remembers their Star Trek lore,” he spoke in Draconic. “Now don’t just stand there like a Q. Use that ice magic of yours, and freeze them!” He appeared in another window as more vines began to creep in. His fur was spattered in a thick green substance. “Oh, and by the way, you are a heavy sleeper, you know that?” He looked to Vital. “As for where all the others are? They are either in the pods out there, or have been pushed back indoors. I just hope Shawn gets his fire going soon.” He shivered as they heard airplane noises. “Also, I think Pinkie Pie spiked Grif’s coffee or something. He’s been like that all morning.”
Vital Spark jumped onto the writhing mess that was the attack of the killer vines. “Vulpix, get ready to cringe. I’m just warning you now.” He smirked as he gathered his magic into his focus. “Freeze, suckers!” He slammed his staff onto the ground, and ice consumed the floor, completely petrifying the vines in their tracks, and racing down to the base of the walls, where their weight caused them to shatter, and fall to the writhing mass below. A few cheers echoed from somewhere further down the castle’s halls, before the sound of blade hacking against stone replaced it.
“Don’t see why that is cringe-worthy. My father and brother did puns all the time.” He charged in, shattering them in one blow. “That is great.” He paused. “Is Grif humming the Superman theme song now?”
“UP! UP! AND AWAY!”
“. . . Wow. Since when could Grif do the Royal Canterlot Voice?” Vital asked as he raced towards the stairwell to the ramparts. A few well-placed ice spears cleared the path in no time, and allowed him to shatter his way through to the outside, where what looked like giant venus fly trap mutants had braced themselves along the parapet. “Oh no you don’t,” Vital muttered as he fired his ice spears at the base of their bulbs. There was a shrill cry, followed by cracking and several heavy thuds as the bulbs dropped to the gorge several stories below. He grinned excitedly as he approached the area surrounding the gate. “You know, I always wanted to say this, ever since I got this staff.”
“Which is?” Pensword asked as he worked to free the doors, and release the twenty guards in the hallway. “Also, Vital, once the doors are open, I need you to start evacs of the Civilians to the Giant.”
“The what?”
“The Gantrithor.” Pensword deadpanned. “I gave it a nickname, because–” He stopped himself. Now was not the time for idle chatter. “I’ll explain later. Once you’re done evacuating Ponies, find the most qualified pilot to put her into the skies, and join the battle.” He held a wing up. “Don’t make me regret allowing you on this combat mission.”
“You do realize until Shawn’s done making his countermeasures, I’m one of the best shots you have at keeping these things out, right? Besides, it’s a Gryphon ship. You should probably ask Grif to get his clan into the air dock and start her up,” Vital said pointedly. “Now do me a favor, and run some interference. If I’m going to pull this one off, it’s going to take some time.”
“You are not giving?” Pensword chuckled as the door finally came free. Vital really was starting to come into his own, at least a little bit. “Don’t think about giving me orders,” he said with a smile. Also, Grif said he would get those that wished not to fight ready. However, Gryphons are like Klingons. They will fight one way or another. I just hope Hammer Strike shows up soon. As for the ship, I think her crew lives onboard, so you don’t have to run her.”
“Interference, Pensword. Please,” Vital Spark said somewhat testily as he blasted back a vine. “That’s twice now that my spell array’s been interrupted. Get these things chasing you and the others, so they can leave me alone, and I’ll not only be able to protect the walls, but I might be able to free the soldiers in these pods while I’m at it.” He ran for the stairs, and raced up onto the parapets near the gate, even as the guards worked to cover his flanks. When he reached the area above the gatehouse, he stopped, caught his breath, and closed his eyes. His horn began to glow more brightly, and an icy blue circle of light began to slowly carve its way around him.
“Well sorry,” Pensword spoke as he ducked under one vine, then over another, causing them to knot themselves. “Kind of been trying to do that all along,” he muttered. “It is just a little hard when we are both facing over ten vines or whatever you want. Oh, joy! A flower showed up. Take that down, or it will knock us out.”
Vital Spark slashed it with a scythe formed from ice. “You know, this is really annoying,” he said as the circle shattered into fragments that promptly melted to water, and seeped into the stone. “Do we have any other Pegasi who can help?”
“We did, but most are in those pods, and the others aren’t faring so well either.” Pensword turned around to gaze back at the keep’s main entrance. “Where is Hammer Strike? I sent at least four teams to search for him. We need him here.”
A muffled voice seemed to be shouting at them as a blast of fire shot from out of nowhere, immolating some nearby sprouts. An Earth Pony dressed in a thick red smock and a gasmask approached. His cutie mark had been stitched over his clothing, and seemed to be little more than an orb of fire. A strange device was mounted on his back. Amongst the mishmash of parts, Vital could make out what looked to be a pair of bellows, and some kind of gas container.
“Yes! Fire Control is here!” Pensword crowed as he watched the flames eating away at the vines. “Vital, you’ve got your clearing. Do it now!”
“I can’t! It’s a really strong attack, but it’ll take me time to set up, and charge properly!”
“Then get charging!” Pensword ordered as he used a wing to lob off another vine, while the Pyros pushed forward.
"HERE I COME TO SAVE THE DAY!” a familiar voice called as something crashed down nearby. “Hi, guys! Didja see me chopping up the plants? Didja? Didja? Didja? DIDJA?” Grif’s words were barely audible as he babbled with impressive speed. His body seemed to almost vibrate as he stood there. His fur was messy, his feathers were crooked, and his eyes were terribly bloodshot.
“. . . Do I even want to know?” Vital Spark asked as the circle of ice finished forming beneath him, and a series of sigils, runes, swirls, and snowflakes began to fill the inside with the formulae.
“Do you? Do I? Does anybody?” Grifs face got progressively closer, until it pressed uncomfortably close to Vital’s.
The spell array shattered again, and Vital Spark’s right eye twitched. “Just . . . cut them with your swords, Grif. I have to start all over . . . again.”
“Okay!” In a blur, Grif was gone again, singing the Looney Tunes theme song as he culled the growing plants.
“All right, this time, no distractions! This is my spell, and I’m going to cast it!” Vital Spark yelled as the sigils formed up for the fifth time. The symbols swept like the strokes of a paintbrush as the waters flowed and solidified into the icy patterns once more, and began to glow beneath his hooves. “About freaking time!” he yelled as a pentacle formed to bind it all together, before his horn and focus flared. A copy of the sigil made of hardened blue light rose up off the ground to hover above his head, before making its way along the parapets, and flashing onto the stone, engraving itself there in ice, and tracing back to the main one with a single glowing line.
Hammer Strike groaned as he burned another set of the vines covering his door. He had decided to rest a little, a small nap while he was still recovering, only to wake up to muffled noises, and a forge surrounded by vines.
“Go. Go, you naughty, naughty plants. The boy needs his rest. Don’t make mama get angry,” an older heavyset mare shouted at the vines. She had a brown coat with a mane and tail in different shades of green. She wore a pashmina around her head, and spoke with a heavy Russian accent as she easily fended the plants off with a ladle.
“You know, I don’t think a ladle is going to help you much,” Hammer Strike commented as he began making orbs of fire around him.
“Oh, Hammer Strike, did the plants wake you? Don’t worry. Mama will handle it. Go get your rest!”
“Already slept long enough, and I don’t believe we’ve met, now that I think about it.”
“You’ve met Papa. How long you think till you meet Mama, huh?” As she said this, she reached over, and pinched Hammer Strike’s cheek, then gave him a light, but firm slap on said cheek.
Hammer Strike caught himself nearly acting with hostility. After a moment, he sighed, and placed a hoof on his head. “Papa? Who are you talking about?”
“Don’t play games with Mama!” the mare said. “Have you been eating right? You look thin! Come! Mama will make you something.”
“Games? Thin? Who are you?” Hammer Strike snapped, only to rub his forehead again. Something wasn’t right, and he couldn’t put his hoof on it. “Sorry, just . . . straight answer, please. Who are you, exactly?”
The mare didn’t even seem to notice as she suddenly forced a bowl that smelled strongly of turnips into Hammer Strike’s hooves. “Eat! Eat! Nothing is better than Mama’s turnip stew!”
“What? Where did you even get this from? I don’t have time for this. This overgrowth looks like it’s consuming the castle. It needs to be pushed back.”
“Eat before it gets cold. Questions are for later. We have job to do.”
Hammer Strike groaned as he suddenly downed the stew. If it was poison, whatever. He could handle a little poison. Heck, even a lot of poison. “There. Fine. Whatever. I’ve got work to do.” He suddenly stopped himself again. “Ex divinia etiam, what is wrong with me?”
“Bad things are in the air. Mama knows. Discord is up to tricks again.”
“So Discord is the cause of this?” Hammer Strike’s tone shifted, dropping dangerously low and neutral.
“Yes, but not now. He caused this problem long ago, during one of his tantrums.” She shook her head, and clicked her tongue. “That boy. Such a hooful, always playing pranks on his sister.”
“You can say that again,” Hammer Strike growled as he pushed through the hallway, burning the plant life in his way. “Wait, Discord has a sister?”
“Yes. You should know thi–oh! That’s why you look different! It all makes sense now!”
Hammer Strike groaned. “I don’t like the sound of that,” he muttered softly. “How much do I do in the past for crying out loud? I swear, fate just loves throwing in time travel at almost every turn.”
“No, she doesn’t do that. That’s lucks job. Such a flirt, that girl. She pick boy she likes, make him rich, then drop him like hot fried knish.”
“What?” Hammer Strike questioned, before the gears finally turned. “Wait. You mean literally. Mamma. Mother. Mother Nature?”
“See? You figured it out! I knew you were clever,” she cheered.
“I’m not in the right mindset. These damned vines are full of chaotic energy, and I’d wager it’s latching onto me the longer it’s around.”
“Yes, and these vines have taken Celestia and Luna, and thrown all Mama’s wonderful nature out of order. This is not good.”
“How in the world did it get Celestia and Luna? They were in Canterlot!”
Mother Nature simply shrugged. “Vines attacking all over Equestria. Just here strongest.”
“Question. What day is today?”
“Why you even ask that question? Is Tuesday, obviously.”
“Because it’s either a Monday, or a Tuesday. Always a Monday or a Tuesday,” Hammer Strike groaned.
“Are you suggesting that coconuts migrate?” Grif was now reciting quotes from Monty Python and the Holy Grail to himself, including accents and voice inflection, as he continued his never-ending massacre of the plant life.
“Well, it was either that or it is the African or European Swallow that carries them,” Pensword quipped as he swept his blades through the courtyard. He was dumbfounded at how overgrown the walls and outer areas of the building had become, although he was happy to note that his tower had yet to be touched. “At least he isn’t trying to sing the song that never ends anymore,” he muttered to himself.
“It just goes on and on, my friends!” Grifs started immediately.
“Ni!” Pensword shouted. As he spread his wings to cut down two vines that were trying to entomb him.
“Pensword, remind me to strangle you when this is over,” Vital Spark grumbled as the sigil finished its rounds, and hovered over the middle of the courtyard. “Everypony, get ready! It’s about to get frigid in here,” he shouted as the pearl on his focus began to gather energy into it.
Meanwhile, the vines below had grown and adapted to their antics, and a heavy roar sounded as a thick coagulated mass of vines and Timberwolf branches lumbered its way out of the forest. Its maw was gigantic, and its eyes glowed green as the thick Timberwolf skulls on its shoulders acted like pauldrons. Its fingers were made from sharpened tree boughs covered in black thorns that dripped with a bluish-green sheen, and thick green sap tinged with black dropped liberally from its mouths onto its vines as it shambled towards the wall.
“Grif, can you take care of that monster? Also, What is your quest?” Pensword shouted in a desperate hope to break the loop he had brought upon themselves. Luckily for him, it worked.
“To kick some ass!” Grif said with a smile. “Meep meep!” With that, he charged the creature head-on. He assaulted the monster from all sides, removing chunks of its body.
Pensword didn’t know what to say about the road runner antics. Then again, he did get the woodpecker laugh. “Right.” He walked up to one of the pods, and tore it open. He nosed the Pony awake, before pointing to another section. Their numbers had grown to about thirty ponies in the courtyard fighting back against the vines, though it looked like they were hard pressed.
Vital Spark concentrated as the behemoth drew closer, and tried a desperate move. “Taze, forgive me,” he mumbled to himself, before drawing up onto his hind legs, and spreading his forehooves wide, while his staff hovered in front of him. “Oh, mana, which dwells in all living things, come to me!” Tendrils of colored light ran from the earth surrounding the castle, the stones, some few plants, and the clouds in the skies to enter the pearl on his focus. He smirked. “SD Gundam Force, eat your heart out.”
Seizing his focus with both hooves, Vital Spark pointed it at the plant monster as a giant seal spread over the top of it, and a last line the size of a ship’s mooring rope connected to the matrix. “Pensword, Grif, I need you and everypony else to pull out somewhere safe. This one’s an AOE spell, and it’s gonna be a doozie!”
“When did you play Age of Empires?” Pensword asked in confusion as he worked to cut down more vines.
Vital shook his head. “Area of effect, Pensword. Area of effect.”
“SPEED IS KEY!” Grif shouted in an Irish accent as he began grabbing Ponies, and carrying them away, before returning for another pair in what could be considered blinks of an eye. When they were all gone, he shouted, “NOW PUNCH THAT TIMBERWOLF IN THE FACE LIKE A BOSS!”
“Hey, Grif! This one’s for you!” The sigils began to glow brighter as magic poured along the lines linking the spell matrix into a virtual web of glowing blue magic, while Vital’s horn and focus both flared. “YOU! SHALL NOT! PASS!”
He slammed the base of his staff onto the sigil as a bright blue flash practically blinded the clearing. A loud roar sounded, followed by a deep, booming series of cracks and groans. High-pitched shrieks echoed throughout the castle walls, before dying off. As the light finally dissipated, a thick layer of frost covered the cobbles and stones of the castle. The vines had all been turned to solid ice, and where the behemoth had once stood, a craggy mountain of ice now waited in its place. If this were an ice sculpture contest, it would likely win first. Vital panted heavily as he leaned on his focus.
“J.R.R. Tolkien, you rock,” he managed to say between breaths. Then his body began to tremble. “I, uh . . . think I need to lie down.” He promptly dropped onto his barrel. “Y’all think . . . you can take care of the rest?”
“FINISH HIM!” Grif flew up to the giant frozen monstrosity with a tuning fork, and lightly rapped it on the head. For a second, nothing happened. Then a series of cracks crawled across the creature’s form, expanding as they went, until they reached the base. It shook, it trembled, and then it shattered into chunks of ice and frozen wood. “KO! FATALITY!”
“Okay, Mr. Fighting game announcer dude . . . thing.” Pensword didn’t know what else to say to that. He gaped at the breadth the spell had covered, and listened as he heard some of the vines shattering under their own weight.
In a matter of seconds, Grif was by Vital’s side, even as the Unicorn’s head dropped to the floor. Before it could touch, he and his focus both were in Grif’s arms as the Gryphon carried him through the air. “Row to the ship! Row to the ship!” he shouted in an interpretation of Captain Hook as he carried his cargo towards the Gantrithor.
Pensword watched the two go, then finally snapped back to attention. Vital Spark had given them an advantage. They couldn’t afford to waste it. “Push forward. Secure the walls. I want us to maintain the space we have won. Stick to fire control for the moment. We can push forward when we have more troops.” He moved to one of the higher places to better coordinate efforts to release the snared guards, and organize the castle’s defense. “And where in Faust’s name is Hammer Strike?”
Hammer Strike continued his warpath, burning anything in his way, until he was free to move once again, making his way topside. Every now and then he would find one of the guards tangled in the vines. Apparently they’d all been given orders to retrieve him.
While never dealing with them directly, Mother Nature summoned random weeds and other plants to attack the vines when possible, or would sometimes entice a swarm of insects from seemingly nowhere to devour what they could.
“Sir, what are your orders?” One of the guards asked as he slammed to the ground. “How can I help down here? If we lose inside the castle, the work up top would be meaningless.”
“If you want to help, then follow me, until I can get you something that can help,” Hammer Strike growled out, before shaking his head. “Just follow me, until I can get you equipped.”
“Sir!” The guard saluted as he drew his short sword, and started to hack away at the vines that were blocking a doorway.
After burning and cutting away enough vines to open up his personal armory, Hammer Strike sorted through several shelves worth of weapon parts. “Why make a flamethrower?” he muttered. “You can make fire on a whim. We don’t need it. Blah, blah, blah. I was right in making this,” he finished as he put a few parts together, and loaded a red crystal into the back slot of the device. He pointed it towards a small patch of vines that were growing into the room, and pulled the trigger. A fountain of flame burst from the barrel, coating the vines, and reducing them to ash. He allowed himself a small smile as he handed the flamethrower over to the guard, whose torso was spattered with greenish goop from the vines he’d hacked. “You want to help? Then burn the vines!”
The guard's eyes widened, and his mouth drew upwards in a grin. “Yes, sir.” He cackled as prepared he weapon for its next use.
“Hopefully we will be able to end all this soon,” Mother Nature said. “Mama thinks she left her stove running.”
“Don’t question the embodiments. Half the time they never make sense anyways,” Hammer Strike muttered as he continued his way to the exit. After clearing away enough, they finally made it to the main doors, and out into the courtyard.
Pensword looked down from his post, and a smile grew on his muzzle. “Hammer Strike!” he yelled. “We need the gates cleared! Vital did great with the ice, but the vines are starting to get back, and we’ve lost the outer wall already!”
“Then go to my armory, grab a flamethrower for yourself, and a few others, and get to work,” Hammer Strike replied.
Pensword frowned. Something felt off about his friend, but there was no time to question it as he signaled with his wings for the troops to follow. “We’ll return quickly. Start without us,” he said as he vanished into the castle with ten soldiers in tow.
There was the sound of a rushing wind as Grif suddenly appeared. “Oh, Hammer Strike! Nice of you to join us. We’ve had so much fun! Destroying weeds, slicing weeds, killing weeds, and then there was this giant timber wolf monster thing we had to kill, and now Vital Spark’s exhausted, so I left him on the Gantrithor! That's where I evacuate everyone, because it’s above the ground, and you know what the weeds can’t do?” It is of note to mention this was all said within a single breath.
“Good grief. It’s affecting you, too,” Hammer Strike groaned. “Yeah, yeah. Weeds can’t fly. I’ll extract the chaotic energies later. Just help me clear the vines off the walls, so we can keep them back with the flamethrowers.”
Grif blurred for a tenth of a second. “Done!”
“And keep them off the wall, until the flamethrowers are here,” Hammer Strike finished.
“Will do!” With another rush, Grif was gone.
Ten minutes later, Pensword and his troops returned in force, each armed with the proper gear to handle the threat. They marched out of the now-open gates to the bridge as they started to burn away the vines around the stone structure, while three more exited the backway to burn out the vines in the clearing. The air smelt of flames and burning wood. A few Unicorns were already gathering sap from the vines for later analysis. One particularly large Earth Pony had donned himself in some thicker heat-resistant armor to the point where you could really only see his eyes through the helmet’s visor.
“Let’s burn,” his deep bass voice purred from behind the helmet.
Pensword smirked from behind his own mask at the words as he allowed the lone flame trooper to pick his targets.
“Focus on the inner growth. Once we secure New Unity, we’re sending a team out to Ponyville. I’ve been alerted that we aren’t the only ones dealing with this,” Hammer Strike ordered.
“Great.This forest is going to destroy us all, and it is expanding its borders,” Pensword groused in annoyance. “How did we not see these vines before?”
“They’re chaotic in nature. Discord planted them, apparently, over a thousand years ago, during his last reign,” Hammer Strike explained. “At least, that’s what I’m being told. And the chaotic energy clinging to Grif and myself confirms it.”
“Oh great,” Pensword muttered. “We’ll talk about how you . . . actually, no. I don’t want to know. I don’t want to know why you know this information, but I am going to have a very, very stern talk with Discord, guaranteed, when this mayhem is taken care of.”
“I’d be surprised if he even remembered doing it,” Hammer Strike muttered. “Just focus on our location for now. I’m sure the Elements are working on something to at least secure the town.”
“Of course, the Elements are always involved. Thank Faust for that.” Pensword looked to the sky. “We are working on getting the bridge fully cleared, just to let you know.”
“As long as we secure New Unity, do whatever it takes.”
“Outer wall has been secured,” Grif said with a salute. “I borrowed a bunch of old vegetable oil and stuff from the kitchens, and had some Gryphons help me paint it everywhere. Then we lit it on fire. It should keep the vines away for the next half hour or so,” he said in his rapid speech.
“Oh for crying out–” Hammer Strike’s hoof burst with blue flame as he reached towards Grif. A black crystal formed in his hoof, and Grif started to calm down. “There. Why didn’t I do this sooner?”
Grif stumbled for a moment, and then slid to the ground with a relaxed sigh. “You're telling me. I’ve been bouncing off the walls since two in the morning.”
Pensword was walking back with an empty tank. “Well, you can rest later. We need to inform Ponyville that we are going to start clearing a path towards them. Frankly, you are the fastest flyer we have access to.” He frowned. “Which is still a sore point to Lightning Dust.” He kept walking. “Can you get to them, and help clear one of the buildings to serve as an emergency shelter?”
“Well I can’t move like I was before, but I’m fairly certain I can hold these things back. There’s some weird magical field that keeps them from tearing or slicing easily, but, fortunately, Vigilance and Vengeance seem to be able to ignore it.”
“Good. If you need to bring a few extra talons, do so. I just want to make sure that Ponyville doesn’t feel alone.” He looked to the sky. “Also, I fear for the situation in Canterlot. The sky is split, and that means that something is stopping Luna and Celestia from fulfilling their duties,” Pensword said.
“I’ll be back with more info when I can. Until then, keep everyone on the ship, and don’t do anything unnecessary.” With a flap of his wings, Grif was gone.
Pensword looked to Hammer Strike. “Well, what is necessary to keep us free of the vines?” he asked with a wicked smile.
The site from the air above Ponyville wasn’t good. Houses were covered in vines, ponies were panicking or trapped in there homes, and the chaos energy seemed to be interfering with Unicorn magic. Already, Grif had to stop several times to free Ponies from their homes or slice them out of constricting vines. At last, he came across what looked to be . . . a panting Zecora? The vines were that bad? She was busy sprinkling powders on the plants. It seemed to work for a time, causing them to shrivel, but more just sprouted up in their place a few minutes later.
Deciding time was of the essence, Grif let himself drop to their location, landing in a classic superhero style. “Hello, Zecora. You want to explain why vines are trying to eat New Unity?”
Zecora sighed. “I’m afraid I know not the source of this blight, but I have faith that the Princess will help set it right. They have already left to alter the course, find the Tree of Harmony, the Elements’ source.” She promptly whacked a tendril that was creeping up behind her with her staff at a key point, and a pitiful whine emanated from the vine as it fell limply to the ground.
Grif unsheathed his blades, and began hacking away. “Zecora, you know a lot about a lot. Back in New Unity, Gryphon-made, Pony-made, or even Hammer Strike’s weapons seemed to bounce off the vines like they had some kind of film. Do you know why my blades can ignore it?”
Zecora looked on Grif with ancient eyes that seemed almost to glow as the green in them became more prominent, though this was a richer green, filled with life. “You know of magic, and depth of will, but there are powers that go deeper still. As a land was once struck with death and strife, one gave up all to bring power and life. As it was in Narnia, when the stone table cracked, so, too, in Equestria with a loving act.”
“Well, I suppose that's better than noth-” he was cut off as he heard the nearby foliage rattling, and raised his blades for another bout, only to recognize the flash of purple scales and clumsy wings that identified Twilight and her number one assistant.
“Don’t swing! Don’t swing!” Spike cringed from his place on Twilight’s back.
The blades dug into the earth. “Twilight, what in the Winds’ names are you doing here? The problem’s not over.”
Twilight sighed. “The girls felt like it’d be better if I came back and helped here, since, well, you know.” She lowered her head, and shook it.
“She’s a Princess,” Spike said as he jumped off Twilight’s back, and onto the ground.
“Yeah, no,” Grif said as he grabbed Spike by the spines on the back of his neck, picked him up, and tossed him back on Twilight’s back. “Come on. Let’s go, before Discord comes here, and starts a meme or something.”
Twilight cocked her head in confusion. “Grif?”
“Twilight, take it from someone who is generally not the one with the plan. Those girls are going to be eaten alive by vines without you. Honestly, sending you back here was an exercise in bad logic.”
“But they all asked me to come back here. Equestria will need me if Luna and Celestia don’t come back. I don’t want to disappoint them.”
“And your first official order of business becomes neglecting your duty to your people? Not the smartest political move, my friend.” Grif shook his head. “Your duty to Equestria is to be out there finding out what's behind this, so you can tell your friends how to kick its butt.” He sheathed his swords. “A general who doesn’t take the field gains few friends amongst the soldiers.”
“But what if they get angry? What if I fail? What if I mess things up so badly that everything just falls apart? What if–?”
“What if the moon loses its gravitational lock around the planet, and takes a stroll across the galaxy? What if the sun gets a growth spurt, and the planet is consumed in a giant fireball where everybody but Hammer Strike and Celestia dies?” Grif looked at her. “What if monkeys fall from the sky, or peanut butter sandwiches develop sentience, and start a plan to take over the world? You want to consider what-ifs, I can go all day, and all night, and all night, and all day. It’s a favorite pastime of Pensword’s and mine. I can what-if for years. All it’ll do to worry about all the what-ifs is drive you mad. Your friends get angry? They’ll get over it. If you fail? Get up, and try again. And believe me, if you mess up that badly, I’m sure Hammer Strike or Cadence will step in. Trust me. The only thing staying back here will do is make you regret it.”
Twilight’s lip trembled. “You really think so?”
“Twilight, you’ve read my history already. You know how many times in the war I had to rely on a leap of faith. Faith in your friends is important, but faith in yourself, that's what’ll get us past this crisis. And if it makes you feel any better, anything tries to stop us, and I’ll turn it into confetti. Deal?”
Twilight reached up, and took Grif’s talons. “Deal.
“Good. Now, seriously, let's get out of here while Discord’s distracted.”
“Just one more thing, Grif, before we go.”
“Yes?”
“What’s a meme?”
Grif stared at her with a blank face. “. . . I’ll tell you when you’re older, Twilight.”
Pensword slammed against a tree with a grunt. He pushed himself to his hooves as he stared at the cragadile that had become agitated and angry with all the vines about. It didn’t help that those flowers had put his squad of four Pegasi and three Thestrals to sleep. He coughed a little, before picking up a stone. He would have to lead this creature away. He couldn’t afford to lose any troops today.
“Oi, you rocky lizard, pick on something a little more feisty!” He threw the stone, and smirked as it hit the cragadile in the eye, causing it to hiss and thrash just like a saltwater croc in Australia back on Earth. Pensword opened his wings to fly, only for a vine to suddenly snake out, and snag his left hind hoof to yank him down to the ground. He rapidly faceplanted in the dirt. His ears perked as he heard the distinct sound of galloping hooves. He hoped they were live hoof beats, and not his family and troops of old racing to welcome him to the Glens. He twisted to attack the vine, even as the cragadile moved towards him.
Pensword twisted to the right just in the nick of time as the jaws of the cragadile snapped shut over the tether, breaking it. Then he twisted the other way, and kicked the monster's snout as he took to the air, and landed in a tree that had been wrapped in the vines. He smirked as the flowers snapped to attention, and pumped their pollen in the beast’s face. His smile faded when the beast kept moving. It took six blasts before the cragadile slowed down, and finally slumped to the ground. Pensword took a moment to let go of the breath he’d been holding, and twitched his mouth as a twinge of pain came from his hoof. “Okay, sprained hoof. Flying to keep off it. Come on, Pensword. Twilight will be heading in here to help soon. She always does.” He winced in pain as his fetlock throbbed. “Where are they?”
“Where’s who?” a familiar, cheery voice asked from behind.
“Pinkie Pie, watch out! Vines!” he yelled instinctively as he looked around for the next tendril to try to take them. Strangely enough, none came. “Where are you all?”
“Over here, darling,” Rarity called as she pranced into the clearing with Seamripper hovering next to her. Its sharp blade had been coated in the vines’ ichor. “Honestly, Pinkie Pie, it’s bad enough we had to leave Twilight behind. We can’t afford to get separated right now,” she chided as the rest of the mares caught up. Their elements glittered in the mixture of light and darkness that was this strangest of days.
“See? I told you. It’s always on a Tuesday,” Applejack said pointedly.
“Big deal!” Rainbow harrumphed. “That still doesn’t mean something bad always has to happen on a Tuesday. Besides, Tuesday’s special for me. I got my cutie mark on a Tuesday.”
“You’re right. Fort Triumph fell on a Tuesday,” Pensword answered with a smirk. It faded quickly. “Can you repeat yourself? Because I thought you said you left Twilight behind.” His tone became much more serious as his eyes narrowed.
Rainbow Dash chuckled nervously. “Yeah . . . about that.”
“Now, now, let’s not all go backtracking again. We all agreed she’d be safer, if she stayed in Ponyville, and that’s that. She’s a princess, after all. She’s got subjects to worry about, and a kingdom to help run,” Applejack said.
Pensword took a very interesting shade of red that mixed poorly with his face. “YOU HAVE THE ELEMENTS! A WEAPON THAT NEEDS SIX WIELDERS AND USERS, AND YOU SENT ONE OF THEM HOME? HOW THE TARTARUS WILL YOU EVEN USE THEM WHEN YOU GET WHERE YOU’RE GOING? TWILIGHT HAS TELEPORTATION POWERS. YOU COULD HAVE SENT HER TO NEW UNITY FOR TROOPS! DO YOU REALIZE WHAT A STUPID, IRRESPONSIBLE, DIMWITTED, ROOKIE, SELFISH ACTION YOU JUST TOOK?” he bellowed. And then, before another word could be said, a cragadile fell from the sky, landing on its back, clearly dead with “You’re all idiots!” quite clearly carved into it’s belly. With a blast of wind, Grif and a windswept-looking Twilight and Spike appeared at the edge of the clearing. Grif was clearly trying to maintain a glare as his body vibrated.
Grif moved over to Pinky Pie, and looked her as clearly in the eye as he could. “I sent a sign from above! These nuts are toasty, and did you know six is equal to the power of Steve?” His eye was twitching oddly.
“Okay, so, apparently Grif’s absorbed just a bit too much chaos magic while fighting off these vines, and it’s making it hard for him to communicate, but he’s kinda asking if any of us realize what we almost did,” Pinkie said as her eyes suddenly widened. “Oh. . . .”
“Sixteen candles on a seven layer cake, and my monkey named Randle would Pony pokey across a sandwich. With a duck!”
“Yeah. Grif says, ‘we took the pommel and the sheath, and sent the blade home.’ Apparently, we didn’t consider the fact that Twilight is the one who knows the details about this, and he’s kinda pointing back at all the times Twilight’s saved us from the brink of disaster. You know, like that time with the mirror pool, and then there was the Changeling invasion. Ooh, that was fun using you as a gun, Twilight. Can I do that again some time? Ooh, ooh, ooh, and then there’s the time our other selves helped Twilight to save a parallel dimension from a power-hungry corrupted Unicorn that wanted to invade Equestria!” She took a deep breath. “Oh, and Rarity? He’s surprised at you, because he thought between your detail-oriented mind and his training, you would have picked up on the fact sending away the catalyst to the Elements was a bad idea.”
“Gorgonzola popsicle pastry on a Sunday covered with Breezies next to garglefunk.” Grif slow clapped sarcastically. Well, he tried to slow clap. He literally clapped so fast that it circled right back round to slow again.
“Mmhmm. Okay. . . .” Pinkie was carefully rubbing her chin. “So he’s either pointing out that, politically speaking, if Twilight came back early from looking for the princesses, it would throw suspicion entirely upon her, making her reign questionable until the inevitable day it sparks a civil war with Equestria, where a lot of Ponies could die, followed by a sarcastic good job and a slow clap; or he wants a jumbo order of raspberry cookies, raspberry chocolate cupcakes with raspberry cream cheese frosting, raspberry tarts, and a whoooole lot of raspberry treacle.”
Pensword was watching this exchange with a mixture of utter disbelief, sheer frustration, and just a tad of mirth. The conversation was quite literally insane, funny, and serious at the same time. He didn’t know what to do, other than sit in his tree, and watch the exchange progress.
“Look, girls, like it or not, I’m here now, and Grif has a point. If we don’t work together, like we have before, then we may never find out what happened to Celestia and Luna. I just can’t live with that, especially since I’m still learning what it means to run a kingdom. I may be a Princess, but I’m your friend first, and, right now, my instincts are telling me that we need to stick together. Besides, you girls need me, if we’re going to use the Elements on whatever it is that’s causing this in the first place.”
Fluttershy was the first to move, and immediately hugged Twilight. “The others don’t want to say it, but we missed you, Twilight.”
Rarity blushed as she approached. “Well, darlings, I . . . suppose we might have been just a tad too hasty. I mean, after all, how could we possibly have tried to do this without Twilight? It would be like making a beautiful ball gown without a stole to tie it all together.”
Pinkie laughed from her place on Grif’s back. “This feels fun,” she buzzed. “Oh, and I vote Twilight stays, too.”
Applejack facehoofed. “Anypony else gonna say I was wrong?”
“Well. . . .”
“Rainbow Dash!”
“What? You heard what they had to say. I mean, I’m stubborn, too, but that doesn’t mean I’m stupid. Besides, are you really going to risk sending her back through the forest again, when those vines have grown that much already?” Rainbow Dash asked as she pointed back the way they’d come. The vines had thickened into a heavy wall with large bulbs that breathed out mist, and snatched at whatever they could that moved. “Like it or not, either we go on together, or we go back together, and no matter what we choose, it’s gonna be together.”
“Good. This will prevent any civil wars. Baron Blueblood would love an excuse to try and wrestle more control,” Pensword muttered. “Still, you girls should continue on. Grif and I will help keep your flanks clear.”
“How in tarnation are y’all gonna do that all by yourselves?” Applejack asked pointedly.
“Determination,” Pensword answered. He looked to the Gryphon. “His speed, my sharp blades, and the fact that if we fail here, then Equestria could be plunged into chaos ripe for other nations to reap our resources and research.” He turned around, being careful not to place his bad hoof on the ground, and pressed into a less dense area. “Now let's move, before these vines wall us in all the way.”
Applejack sighed. “All right, but y’all better stick close. We don’t want anypony else gettin’ hurt.”
Grif said nothing. In a fluid motion, he drew a blade, and vanished. Pinkie looked curiously down at the empty air beneath her as the vines within eyesight began to fall to shreds.
“Huh. That's new,” she said.
“You’ll get use to it,” Pensword shouted from a tree branch as he fought some more vines.
“Come on, girls. This way!” Twilight called as she summoned her focus, and ran forward.
Less than an hour later, Grif and Pensword found themselves right back where they had started as the two continued to perform vine control, while Twilight and the others had vanished down a staircase leading into the cliff face on which new Unity’s back rested. Every once in awhile, a stray shout or a roaring sound heralded the burning of vines taking place within the castle walls. The glitter from Vital Spark’s spell had begun to fade, but the vines still held back from the edge for whatever reason.
Pensword looked to Grif, but had given up on trying to talk to him, due to the sheer incoherency of his sayings. He looked around as he bit and pulled at a small clump of the tendrils that had grown up between his hooves. “Great. I hope Hammer Strike is having fun killing these things,” he grumbled.
Grif shrugged, clearly as annoyed as Pensword was about the lack of communication. He’d taken to sharpening his talons on a whetstone, after he’d blunted them trying to cut an entirely different stone.
“Right. We wait, and hold. Hope they fix whatever it is, and–.” He paused. “Why did we never send search parties into the ravine?”
Grif carved Conor into the ground in front of him.
Pensword took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. “Why am I not surprised? I will have words with him when this crisis is over.”
Grif shrugged noncommittally as he swung Vigilance, and bisected another sprout as it popped up.
Pensword grinned as he cut down a few more with a yell that sounded very much like a certain hero with a green cap. “Wish they dropped rupees.”
Grif rolled his eyes, drew a ruby from his pack, and flicked it at Pensword.
Pensword chuckled. “Thank you.”
The Two Heavies both stood by Hammer Strike as each attacked, and pulled at the stalks, while Hammer Strike killed them at the base. One of them took a deep whiff, and suddenly stopped. “Why do I smell Mama’s stew?” he turned to ask his fellow Heavy.
“Yeah.” The other heavy stopped, took another whiff, and turned to face the Pony lord. “Why does Hammer Strike smell like Mama's stew? Mama does not like visiting or leaving home. Too much work.”
“Why am I only partially surprised?” Hammer Strike questioned. “Wait a minute. I’m more than partially surprised, actually.”
“Hammer Strike will answer question, please,” the red Heavy said as he cracked his neck.
“If I’m correct about the guess, then it’s because of the vines as to why she visited.”
They both looked crestfallen. “We hoped Mama would have visited us.”
Hammer Strike shrugged. “She might still be around. So, hey, if you want to look, go for it.”
The heavies shook their heads. “No, Mama would say to finish job first. We finish job, then look for Mama,” the blue Heavy said.
“Da,” the red Heavy agreed.
“Then continue to help me clear the vines, yeah?”
“Da,” the two responded. “So what you think of Mama? Not many see her,” the Heavy in the blue uniform said.
“Not really sure what I think of her. Didn’t talk for long.” Hammer Strike shrugged. “That, and the anger due to chaos magic clinging to me didn’t help matters much.”
“Here. Have sandvich. It will help,” Red said as he pushed it in Hammer Strike’s direction. “Give you more energy to focus on vines.”
“No, the sandwich won’t help with chaos energy clinging to me,” Hammer Strike refused. “That, and I’m not hungry.”
“Just try. Never know what good sandvich can do till you try. Besides, the olive is always good.”
“I’m not kidding on the ‘I’m not hungry’ part. I just ate.”
“When you get hungry, come tell us, and we will give you sandvich,” Red Heavy grumbled. “Is very special offer. We only share with family.”
“I’ll see to it, then. But seriously, keep at it with the vines. I’d rather not have any more troops captured.”
“We are,” both responded as two more guards fell from the pockets they tore open. “Heavies not have so much fun since little bugs swarm castle. Watch your hind leg. Vines are growing sideways.”
“They’s all broken,” Grif said as he held one of the plunder vines in his talons, while a pure white light moved down it’s length, and it crumbled to nothingness.
“Finally,” Pensword panted. “This was tough, insane, and, frankly, I think those that fought deserve tomorrow off.”
“You? Take a break?” Grif laughed, before stopping. “Wait, I actually meant to say that. And that! It’s finally coming out right!”
“That is good. We fought to our limits. We need to take at least one day to rest.” He sighed wearily as he plopped to his hindquarters. “Not everypony is as strong as you and Hammer Strike.”
“And yet I know you. You’ll be back at your desk in the morning.” Grif shook his head.
“Oh no, I am going to be at the desk after noon. Right now, I am going to find Lunar Fang, Fox Feather, and Moon River, and I am going to sleep. I think I have been awake for eighteen hours fighting.”
“Yeah, well try–” and without finishing his sentence, Grif collapsed to the ground with a loud thud. After having burned up a week's worth of energy on three hours of sleep, his body no longer cared where he’d rest.
“Right,” Pensword said. “Better get to the Gryphon Compound first, then go find my mates and daughter, and sleep,” he muttered as he took to the air. It lasted for a few seconds, before he felt the burning in his muscles as a cramp started to come on. He swiftly landed, and folded his wings, before he began to limp towards the compound gates to get some flyers to carry Grif back home, muttering darkly all the while.
Vital Spark groaned as he slowly came to in a dark room. The curtains had been drawn over the window, but the wooden floor and cabinets were familiar enough for him to recognize where he was.
“What am I doing on the Gantrithor?”
“Grif brought you here after you fainted,” a familiar voice answered frankly as Clover stepped out of the shadows with a pitcher and a cup in her magical grip.
“Oh. Heheh. I guess I might’ve bit off a little more than I could chew.” Vital sighed. “Am I in trouble, Clover?”
“I think we’re going to have to work on energy transference, and storage theory. You shouldn’t have attempted that on your own mana alone,” she said as she poured from the pitcher, and hovered the cup to Vital’s hooves.
“Would it help if I said I didn’t?” he asked as he took the proffered drink, and swallowed. He promptly made a face complimented by a sound suitable to express his disgust. “Judging from that horrible taste, I’m guessing this is supposed to be a potion to help restore my mana reserves?”
“Yes, and you're going to need a few of them.”
Vital sighed. “Thought as much. But seriously, I meant it when I said I didn’t just use my own mana reserves. I . . . kind of tried something stupid, and risky, but it worked. Worst case scenario, if it hadn’t succeeded, Grif would’ve found another way to cut that plant golem down to size, and I’d still be here.” He took another swig. “Am I going to have to drink that entire pitcher?”
“No. You’ll have to drink three.”
“Well, I guess that’s a sacrifice I was willing to make.” He sighed. “I’m sorry I scared you.”
“Just don’t do anything stupid again,” she sighed.
“Clover, you do realize I’m a part of a select group of individuals who raise stupidly crazy plans to an art form, right?”
“And you're the only one of them without crazy luck, stupid endurance, or on-the-spot brilliance to work to your advantage.”
“Well, when you put it that way. . . .” He sighed. “You know, I’m surprised you still haven’t asked about where I got the extra juice. Have you visited Lacroa before or something?”
“I assumed you must have pulled it from something without fully realizing it.”
“It was a gamble, but it was a conscious decision,” Vital said as he gulped down his second glass. He made a rather indelicate sound. “I feel like I’m going to gag.”
“That happens sometimes.” She nodded. “The gagging, anyways. Next time, if you have to gamble, at least stack the deck a little.”
“I’ll try to remember that for the future.” He hummed to himself a moment. “You wouldn’t happen to have a technique that lets you store mana in a gem or focus for later use, would you?”
“Yes. And several other techniques. And you’re going to be learning all of them.”
Vital Smiled as he slumped back onto his pillows. “You know what? I know it’s going to sound weird to say, but for some reason, I can’t wait.”
“Optimism. Don’t worry. Like most side effects, that, too, will pass,” she said, smiling sinisterly.
Vital laughed. “Thanks, Clover. I needed that.” Then he yawned. “Never would’ve thought using that much mana would make me so tired. But before I get back to sleep, I’ve got to ask, is everything all right below?”
“It seems like the problem’s been finished, though Grif and Pensword are dead on their hooves and paws respectively.”
“I’d ask if you had any word on what happened, but knowing you, you’d just leave me with a cliffhanger anyways.” He chuckled. “Thanks for checking up on me, Clover. I really appreciate it.”
“Get back to sleep, Vital Spark. I’ll be back with your next dose in a few hours.”
“Yes, Ma’am.” Vital smiled as he let the darkness take him. This time, it would be sweet, and restful.
Extended Holiday Ch 108: What’s in the Box? Act 16
Pensword stood in the cave, and gazed frustratedly up at the crystal tree. “So, you are telling me that we are living above the source of harmony for Equis, and quite possibly the universe, and the vines were planted by Discord to kill the tree?” He closed his left eye in pain. “Anything else I should know as the future head of the military, Princess Celestia? You do realize I am going to have to put at least some Changelings around to protect this now. Also, I really want to chew out Discord for what he did.”
Celestia sighed. “We couldn’t tell anyone until now, Pensword. The tree wouldn’t let us. When the vines attacked and kidnapped us, that link was broken, and we are now free to discuss with whom we will.” She circled the strange chest that had grown from the tree’s roots, before fixing Pensword with narrowed eyes. “However, Commander, I’m afraid I must insist on a few caveats for your request.”
“As long as it doesn’t prevent my maintaining control and security, and I am not telling Shawn, nor Hammer Strike. He’s got enough on his plate, and. . ..” He scuffed a hoof on the dirt floor. “I want a project for my military to do, something other than construction. Not all soldiers are up to building.”
“Well, you covered our main concern right there. Hammer Strike must not know about the tree. Not yet. She made that very clear to us when we were connected by the plunder vines. As for creating a guard to watch over the tree–.”
“I’m afraid we will have to belay that,” Luna spoke up as she stepped out from a shadow behind the tree. “A matter this delicate should be placed in appropriate hooves. This is an intelligence matter, after all.” A glance passed between her, Celestia, Twilight, and Grif momentarily.
“Of course, your Majesty,” Pensword replied as he forced his face into a neutral mask. “When will you and I work on the coming final presentation?” he asked as his eyes roamed over the elements in the tree.
“First I will return to Ys, and finish settling the chaos of recent events. Once everything is in order, I will return, and we can begin drafting the proper documents, and working on the necessary speeches.” Luna nodded. “We must work quickly. The House of Lords convenes in less than a month's time, and we must push as soon as we are able.”
“Shall I head to Ys, or shall we conduct them in your old quarters?” Pensword asked.
“It would be better to do it here,” Luna said.
“I shall prepare quarters fitting for your station, then, High Chieftess,” Pensword replied with a Thestral bow. “I hope you don’t mind that I schedule some time for you to play with Moon River.”
“Your daughter is important, Commander. Never think it is an imposition to spend time with her.”
“Understood.” Pensword smiled. “She will definitely enjoy this. You can teach her tactics or hunting. Faust knows she’ll get you to teach her something by the time she’s through with you. She does it to everyone she interacts with to one extent or another.”
“Learning while we are young makes us strong when we are old.” Luna chuckled softly.
Suddenly, Spike belched, letting loose a gout of green flame that materialized into a scroll sealed with Hammer Strike’s insignia. He picked it up, and read the scrawl on the scroll.
“It’s for the two of you,” he said, handing it to Celestia and Luna.
The two princesses read the scroll, and promptly blanched.
“H-Hammer Strike–” Luna gulped “–has some questions.” Her eye began to twitch as she let out a series of nervous chuckles. “About how we were captured.”
“Luna, if you love me, I must beg you to do one thing for me, here and now,” Celestia said seriously. “Banish me to the sun. Please!”
Luna’s horn lit up suddenly. “I’m sorry, Sister, but I do not owe you a kindness.” And in an instant, her form exploded into starlight, which promptly faded.
Pensword looked with wide eyes at the place where Luna had been. “She could have just said she and I were discussing some important matters.” He frowned. “I am going to have to have a long talk with Hammer Strike. I was in the middle of discussing things, and suddenly she goes off to get her good armor.”
Celestia sighed. “First off, that won’t work, Pensword. Hammer Strike will know if you’re lying. And she hasn’t gotten her good armor. She’s dispersed herself to avoid meeting with him.” She shook her head. “I suppose I’ll have to face him head on. Knowing him, he’d come and drag us out of wherever we’re hiding anyways. Twilight, I might need you to run things again for another week or two.”
“You mean. . .?”
“I’m afraid so.”
“Um, Princess Celestia?”
“Yes, Twilight?”
“Can . . . can I watch?”
Celestia blinked a few times. “Excuse me?”
“If he’s going to put you through training, can I watch? I need to study other styles, so I can prepare countermeasures against them. And besides that, it should be fairly simple for me to reinstitute the structure I started with before.”
Celestia blinked in utter bewilderment. “Twilight, I don’t know whether to be proud of you, or concerned for you.”
“Um, thank you?” Twilight responded as she tilted her head, and raised a confused brow.
“You know,” Grif noted, “it’s weird. I’d have figured you’d be the most reluctant for combat, next to fluttershy, that is.”
“Grif, how many ultimate villains have I had to go against now in the last five years?” Twilight asked with a deadpan expression.
“Yes, but it is still something to see. Who knows? You might even end up modernizing today’s battle mage classes, at the rate you're going. You're really stepping into your role well.”
“I look forward to hiring those battlemages from your school in the coming years,” Pensword said with a laugh.
Celestia smiled, despite herself. “Thank you, the both of you. I needed that. With that being said, I really do need to go see Hammer Strike.” She sighed. “Grif, pray for me.”
“Would that even help? I mean, my gods are different than yours.”
“Grif, this is Hammer Strike we’re talking about. Every bit helps.” Then, in a flash of light, she was gone.
Pensword stood there, and looked around. “I am going to go spend time with my family, and . . . not get in front of this problem.”
“Wise decision,” Grif said.
Moon River smiled as she hid under building material waiting for someone she knew to walk past. She didn’t have her crossbow with her this time, but she didn’t need it. She had a new technique to try. She wiggled her rump as she caught the scent, and the world turned to a blur as the darkness she was hiding in turned to the light of late morning. It blinded her, but she stayed on target with hearing and smell, and landed around the neck of her prey.
Grif was walking by when he caught movement, felt the air disturbance, and then the weight of a small Pony hugging at tightly as she could around his broad neck.
“Well now, what are you doing out here this early?” Grif asked Moon River as he chuckled good-naturedly.
Moon River babbled happily in response, then laughed gleefully. She was clearly having a good time, which likely meant she was causing problems to either her parents, sitters, or just running around to drive them all crazy with worry.
“Making sure everyone's on their hooves, and ready for anything?”
She nodded her head, and giggled as Grif felt several prickly seed pods hit his fur. It seemed her little herd of trouble makers had just attacked the street. At least three Unicorns were growling, and one looked livid, while those who were used to the children’s antics just laughed, and started to pick out the bolts. At least they hadn’t been dipped in wet paint. Moon River had taken a rather firm spanking after that little incident.
“Anybody gives you any trouble, you just tell them you're under orders, okay?” Grif asked with a conspiratorial wink.
She nodded her head, and flapped her left wing, while sticking her right hoof over Grif’s ear.
“Good.” Grif used his wing tips to ruffle the tufts of her ears. “After everything so far, I think it’s time everyone started learning some constant vigilance.”
She nodded, and, like any foal, she saw another shiny thing in the distance that immediately grabbed her attention, and scampered off after it. The moment she was out of hearing, the disgruntled Unicorn stepped up to Grif. “How can you encourage such behavior? She’s not some savage. She’s the– I was told she’s the daughter of a High Duke. How can her father let her get away with something like this? I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to inform him of this behavior if you don’t do anything to curtail it.”
Grif locked eyes on him, and an instinctual response as old as time kicked in. Fear. Primal, ancient fear that only comes when a prey species finds itself under the gaize of an angry apex predator flooded the Unicorn with dread.
“Who are you?” Grif asked in slow, drawn-out words.
The Unicorn drew himself up as best he could. “Guppy Horn, third born of house Horn Silver. We run most all Horn Silver supplies. As a noble in this realm, I am hoping that you will not be teaching her to act more akin to those of blood and wings.” It was a modern term, but still one that looked down on even the noble houses of the Pegasi. And besides that, it also insulted every Gryphon in the clan. “So, will you stop encouraging her to act below her station?
“Guppy Horn, last I checked, neither Princess Twilight Sparkle nor Lord Hammer Strike had given a noble title to the lands of Everfree or the greater Everfree area. You may be on Equestrian soil, but you are within the sovereign lands of New Unity, given in trust to Lord Hammer Strike. Not Count Hammer strike, not Duke Hammer Strike. Lord. The moment you stepped onto these lands, you became the same as everyone else here. Hell, with your attitude, you became less then everyone else here. Yet you had the pretentious, asinine, moronic nerve to talk down to me, Clan Leader Grif Grafson Bladefeather, head of the first Equestrian Gryphon clan. You then had the further idiocy to scold me about how I treat my god daughter. Tell me, Guppy Horn, is it your family's twenty square hectares of what you claim to be a county that gives you this right, or the former fortune your family had from silver that was swallowed up in debt for your family’s unduly lavish lifestyle?”
Guppy Horn started to back off as Grif’s carefully controlled rage rose like a tsunami, and Guppy didn’t have time to find the high ground. Grif didn’t leave him space to get far, keeping close as he stared the Unicorn down.
“Have you and your family of conscientious objectors some military experience, some grand deed you use to power your words?” Grif looked down at him as he drew his head up to his full height. “I fought in the Third Gryphon War, while your family hid in Unity, and crafted silver ornaments as a way to dodge the draft. I run the most efficient mercenary company in Equestria, and, with the snap of my fingers, I could swarm the area within your range of perception with armed Gryphon warriors. My goddaughter is young, and by all the winds, if I have any say about it, she will enjoy every precious moment of it!
“You are nothing within these lands. And until Lord Hammer Strike himself has a good reason to tell me otherwise, you will be treated and accounted like any other Pony who lives here. If you assume to talk in this manner to me, or anyone else here again, I will not hesitate to have you sent to the stocks. Now, is this understood, or do I need to retrieve the signed document from Princess Luna restating my authority?”
Guppy Horn was very flustered, and looked many things in the few seconds it took him to find his voice. The final settled on indignation and bluster. “How … how dare…? You may be the first Gryphon clan that Princess Celestia sanctioned, but that doesn’t give you authority here. She must have simply felt sorry for you. I can’t say I blame her.” He huffed. “I’m going to go speak to girl’s father about this. It’s clear my words are lost on you. Tell me where he is. I suppose he’d likely be strolling through the gardens this time of day,” he mused. “Regardless, I intend to have words with the commander, whether he likes it or not.”
Guppy Horn didn’t notice the sudden withdrawal of the Ponies around him, nor did he recognize the sharp intake of breaths as foals’ eyes were covered by adults. While Thestrals and one Pegasus pushed their foals forward to watch. Grinning at the teaching opportunity.
Grif’s palm came across the Pony’s face with an echoing smack. “Don’t you dare imply the commander spends his days lazing about. That stallion works day in and day out trying to make sure that if, and when, a threat arises, you all will have some form of protection that won’t be delayed by your stupid, petty little squabbles. No matter what you think of me, no matter what you think of my people, you will respect him within these walls, or I will rip your yellow tongue out!” A sharp, cold autumn wind cut in from the north as Grif’s eyes narrowed. “You’ll find the commander in his office. The servants will direct you inside the Castle, and heavens above and below won’t be enough to help you, if I find out you’ve mistreated any of them.” Grif had extended a single talon, and, without realizing it, had slowly pressed closer towards Guppy Horn’s neck as he spoke. “Do you understand me, you inbred pondscum?”
Guppy Horn blustered, and sputtered, before he found his tongue again. “You. . ..” He huffed and snorted. “Very well. I shall go find his office,” he rumbled as he stepped back. He turned and saw one of the maids, who Grif instantly recognized as one of Me-Me’s children. “You! Take me to this ‘commander.’” Grif Cleared his his throat meaningfully, and Guppy Horn winced. “Please,” he grated. It looked like it has actually hurt him to say the word.
“Certainly, Milord. It’s just this way,” the maid said as she nodded formally to Grif, before making her way towards the castle. Guppy grumbled to himself the whole way as the pair walked slowly out of sight.
Hammer Strike gave a sigh of relief as he removed the final thorn from his coat. While they didn’t hurt, they sure didn’t feel comfortable. He’d sent a letter to Celestia and Luna around thirty minutes ago, and they had another half an hour, before he began hunting them down, unless they wrote a letter to alert him with something of sufficient importance to prevent their immediate response.
His ear twitched as he heard the familiar hesitant hoofsteps of a large, heavy Pony.
But . . . why did he only hear one? He didn’t feel Luna in the shadows.
The door opened in Celestia’s magic as she slowly entered. She hesitated. “You summoned me, Hammer Strike?”
“I summoned both you and Luna. Is she busy?”
“. . . In a manner of speaking. What was it you wished to talk with me about?”
“After listening to a few reports, I was able to determine that Luna and yourself were captured by these chaos plants. I’m just wondering how this came to be.”
Celestia sighed. “We were taken by surprise. There was some sort of concentrated sedative on their thorns. When I awoke, I was immobilized in a bundle of vines, and I felt my magic being drained. I couldn’t even gather enough energy to burn them away.” She sighed. “I know you’re disappointed.”
“I can’t really be disappointed in you being caught in a surprise attack,” Hammer Strike replied after a moment. “I’m more disappointed that Luna isn’t here as well, than I am of that.”
Celestia sighed in relief. “So we’re not in trouble?”
“You aren’t.”
“Thank Mother. But . . . what else did you want me to come here for? You hardly ever call just for the sake of a single question.”
“It was a mix of a question and a test. You passed, while Luna is running out of time to get here. So, mind telling me exactly what she’s doing?”
“I’d rather not.” She looked anywhere she could in the office, except for Hammer Strike.
“Celestia, what is your sister doing?” Hammer Strike put more emphasis on the question.
“She’s . . . visiting some friends.”
“The full truth, Celestia.”
Celestia sighed. “She dispersed herself into stardust, after we read the letter.” Her mane flattened in shame.
“Did she now?” Hammer Strike leaned back in his chair. “All right. I’ll have to track her down when she’s back.” His gaze shifted back to Celestia. “That’s it. You’re good to go.”
“Really?”
“I mean, do you want to do some practice? Sparring?”
“I’m not exactly at your level anymore, Hammer Strike.”
“Gotta start somewhere.” Hammer Strike grinned.
Celestia cleared her throat. “Perhaps another time?”
“We’ll have to schedule that one out, yeah?”
Celestia shifted her eyes back and forth. “Yes. We will do that … later. Bye!” In a flash of light, she was gone.
“Yes. Later. . ..” Hammer Strike hummed as he looked back down to his papers. “After Luna, of course.” Then he chuckled.
Commander Pensword sat at his desk, looking over intel, progress reports on construction, and some new threat assessments based on the fact that the Elements of Harmony were now rendered essentially useless in this new magical artifact known as the Tree of Harmony, which it seemed Vital, Clover, and Grif had taken upon themselves to take care of. Without his knowledge or approval. He snorted to vent his frustration as he did his best to contain his frustration over the matter. Celestia and Luna had overruled him. It was time to move on. His ears twitched as he heard a sound in his outer office, which caused him release an aggravated sigh as he waited for Preston open his door.
“Someone to see you, Commander. Though, if you're busy, I wouldn’t mind letting them know,” he said almost a bit too eagerly.
“If their annoyance is spreading to you, then something serious must have happened, indeed.” He mulled it over, organizing and discarding a variety of potential strategies, before he finally nodded. It was best to get this over with now, rather than give the individual or individuals potential ammunition to use against him later. “Send them in. I’ll deal with whoever it is.” He sighed, and shook his head. He really didn’t need this headache right now.
“Very well,” Preston said somewhat waspishly, before vanishing through the door. Seconds later, a different Pony entered.
“And who are you?” Pensword asked, giving the Unicorn the sternest look he could manage. It was best to keep the nobles off their game, after all, and an aggressive beginning often helped establish the tone that he wouldn’t broke disrespect in his office. Guppy Horn was, naturally, unnerved.
“Guppy Horn, High Duke,” the Unicorn said, even as he flinched back from the glare. A bright yellow splotch had stained his emerald coat. “I was told to talk to you.”
Pensword’s answer was harsh, quick, and belligerent. “Yes? I assume this has to do with my daughter, judging by the rather unique design on your coat. I appreciate your desire to adhere to formality, Guppy Horn, but in this office, in this building, I am Commander Pensword, Supreme Commander of all Equestrian Military forces. I would appreciate if you would address me as such.”
Guppy Horn took a deep breath. “Very well. Commander. Yes, I seem to have experienced a bit of a run-by shooting. When I expressed my concerns to the girl’s godfather, he took issue to my complaints, and even went so far as to slap me, merely for guessing where I might be able to locate you to discuss my concerns. I understand the need to let a foal be a foal while she has the time, but this kind of action is downright ridiculous, and incredibly inconvenient, not to mention time-consuming. I must protest, and I would even go so far as to ask you to please curb her behavior, before it gets even more out of hoof.”
Pensword sighed. “I suppose I should have sent a general warning the Solar Court’s way,” he mused. “Tell me, Guppy Horn, what do you know of Thestral teachings?” he asked as a gout of flame rose from his dragonfire lamp to spit out a scroll with the bloodfeather seal on it. He quickly picked up the scroll, and unrolled it.
“Namely that they’re more primitive and tribalistic in nature,” Guppy Horn admitted. “Such behavior is not generally looked very kindly upon in the Solar Court.
“Based on my report here, Guppy, you certainly seem informed enough on tribal slurs,” Pensword said in a deceptively mild tone. His gentle eyes had hardened as his pupils shifted to slits. “How interesting that you happened to leave that little comment out of your story.”
“It’s not a slur. It merely refers to the method of your training. It actively encourages youth to be more prone to violence, as has been clearly evidenced in multiple studies, Pensword.”
“Commander Pensword.”
“Enough! I am a fellow noble. We hold the same blood right to rule, you and I. I respect your desire to honor your office, but I’m here to warn you about your daughter. What if she were to get ahold of a real weapon, instead of burrs and dye? What then? Somepony could get hurt.”
Pensword’s eye twitched. “First of all, it is clear you are exceptionally ignorant of our ways, if you think we would be foolish enough to allow her near any form of legitimate weapon without proper supervision. Secondly, we teach our foals, without exception, to control their aggressive tendencies, and hone them in training for the sake of self defense, such as when a gang of drunken asses decide to try to gang rape an unarmed mare, just because they think she’s lower class and an easy target. Until the Lunar Court was properly established, our people, the ones you deem so bloodthirsty, never had a proper voice. You and your kind saw to that after Luna’s fall and subsequent banishment. Before that happened, your people needed us, and without our aid, you can bet, as sure as Tartarus, that Equestria would have fallen, or else sustained significantly higher losses. You haven’t even sought a proper understanding of our culture, just taking superstition and secondhand accounts!”
Pensword slowly rounded on Guppy Horn, who was looking more and more frightened as he drew closer. “I earned my blood right, Guppy Horn. I fought in the Third Gryphon War.” He paused as he looked in the noble’s eyes. The familiar look of boredom and frustration flickered dimly behind the fear. He knew that look. He knew it well. A vein began to throb on his forehead. “Unbelievable,” he muttered, shaking his head. “Luna’s damned blood moon,” he swore. “You don’t know what that means, do you? You have absolutely no idea.” By this time, Guppy Horn had been backed against the wall, and was doing his best to inch to the side towards the door. Pensword grit his teeth, and took a deep breath. “Get out,” he whispered.
“Excuse me?”
“I said get out! And don’t come back till you’ve read the proper records about that war, not the watered down drivel you saw in school. You have no idea, but you will, if I have anything to say about it. You and yours will know just how close you nobles came to losing your lands, your precious bloodlines, and your freedoms. Look at the sacrifices made, the Ponies who died, the battles they waged, the families they lost!” he roared, then dropped his voice to a whisper. “Then, and only then, when you truly understand, may you return speak with me.” He moved and used his wings to usher the Unicorn towards the door, which Preston had been kind enough to open.
“But–.”
“Not another word, until you know about that war,” Pensword said. “Preston, have our noble friend here escorted to one of the private rooms, and get him Grif’s overview of the Third Gryphon war, and Baron Blueblood the First’s personal accounts, along with the memorial registry sorted by tribe and military rank, and any accompanying witness accounts connected to their deaths from that particular era of conflict. Make sure meals are brought to him.”
“But, Duke Pensword, surely–.”
“OUT!” The Royal Canterlot Voice bowled Guppy horn and Preston both over into the receptionist’s office, and the door slammed shut behind them.
Pensword snorted in frustration, and returned to his desk. He retrieved the discarded report from Grif, and soon discovered an addendum on his desk labeled INTELLIGENCE. He opened the file, and began to peruse the contents. Half way through the analysis, he slammed it down onto the desk, and ground it beneath his hoof. “That spoiled, self-entitled, aristocratic snob! How dare he? How dare he mock my daughter, our children!” He snarled as he thrust several files off his desk, along with the dragonfire lamp, which promptly shattered, burst outwards in a massive spurt, then died, leaving a heavy scorch mark surrounding a glowing red stone. “PRESTON!” he bellowed. ‘We really need to get an intercom system in here,’ he thought to himself.
“Yes, Sir?” Preston galloped in.
“I want you to contact the Thestrals. Tell them that our new noble friend, and those of his house are free game for play stalking, hunting, and rubber suction cup crossbow bolts, outside of his studies, of course. If he thinks the daughter of the High Duke should shun her Thestral heritage, simply because he doesn’t have a thick enough hide, then let him be the target of all Thestral Noble foals!” he commanded. “I think it would do him some good.” He smirked. “Besides, it’s time we let him know that the nobility is no longer run by the Unicorns of Canterlot.”
“I’ll see to it right away, Sir,” Preston said with a positively malicious sneer.
“Excellent,” Pensword praised. “You have my leave, Preston. I have some studying of my own to do. Keep me updated on how our ‘guest’ fares.”
“With pleasure,” Preston buzzed as he left.
With that done, Pensword returned to his desk, and pulled out a dusty book with a clean white cover. He sighed, then looked on with a determined gaze. He wouldn’t let himself shun it any more. “Time for me to study.” He flipped open the book, and began to read. “‘Chapter one: Sensing Thaumic Energy. . ..’”
Vital’s pearl glowed a light blue as the magical energies being transferred into it wafted and flickered upwards like a slow-moving blue flame. “Is this about the right flow, Clover?” he asked.
“It seems to be.” Clover nodded. “Keep going.”
“Yes, ma’am. For how long?”
“Another fifteen minutes.”
“Is that how long it takes to charge, or just how long you want me to keep up the flow for now?”
“That's how long I want you to go. We’re not pushing you for a full charge yet.”
“Just for the sake of reference, about how much can this gem take?”
“More than most Unicorns can supply. Gems are the best ways to store energy.”
“I just don’t want to risk overcharging it.”
Clover shrugged as she glanced up from a thick tome she’d unearthed from Star Swirl’s hoard. “You’re at more of a risk tapping yourself out completely than overcharging a gemstone.”
“Good to know.” He nodded.
“Hopefully we’ll be able to charge a sufficient supply of these gems, which you can keep on your person.”
“Fair enough. Should I set aside time each day to channel into gems, then?”
“That would be wise,” she agreed.
“Then I’ll make sure to do it. Hmm.” He stroked his chin with a hoof. “I wonder if Hammer Strike would want a gem like this for a wedding present. I know Rarity can get him any gem, and he doesn’t like elegance, but he does like function, and having an energy source like that could be useful in his experiments.”
“These gems aren't going to be compatible with others. For normal Unicorns, it’s possible, but you have extenuating circumstances.”
“And Hammer Strike doesn’t fall under extenuating circumstances?”
“You haven’t read what would happen if you try to force aspect energy from one field to another yet. It’s not a process one does on a whim.”
“. . . Fair point. I guess when I transfer magical energy into the gem, it would take my aspects with it. I hadn’t considered that point.” He sighed. “But what should I get him then? That wedding’s going to be coming up soon, most likely in the spring time, so they have enough time to plan everything out and make up the guest list, stuff like that. I know Rarity’s planning on pulling out all the stops.” He sighed. “You knew him in the past, Clover. Do you have any idea of what might be a good gift to get him?”
“Do you want me to write you a thesis on the meaning of life while I’m at it? Perhaps draw you a map to the long lost Alicorn City? Paint you a picture of the celestial heavens? Or maybe you’d like a perfectly rendered sculpture of Faust herself?” Clover said with a roll of her eyes “I don’t know what to get Hammer Strike. How in sleipnir's name would I be able to tell you?”
“Woah, woah, woah. What was that about an Alicorn city?”
And a book promptly hit him in the muzzle. “Read every once in awhile, Vital. I shouldn’t need to explain children's fairy tales to you.”
Vital examined the cover closely. “. . . Clover, this is the first time I’ve ever laid eyes on a book like this before, and I’ve looked pretty thoroughly through the fantasy and fiction sections, trust me. Actually, that Lewis Carrot wasn’t too far off about what the human world is like. I wouldn’t be surprised if he took a journey through the mirror the last time it was opened.”
“And yet you missed one of Grimble and Grumble’s oldest stories.” She shook her head.
“I’m sorry, who?”
“They were a pair of Unicorns from pre-unification who traveled around the three tribes’ lands collecting folktales and stories.”
“Sounds like the brothers Grimm.”
“Who?”
“Two human brothers who roamed all of Europe seeking ancient stories and folktales to compile into one volume. Things like Cinderella, Rapunzel, Sleeping Beauty, though the stories have been through a lot of revision over the years. Say, Clover, is this book from your private collection?”
“Well, either way, Grimble and Grumble found stories about lost worlds, and even several supposedly dead cities. Shangri La, El Dorado, Avalon, but one of the most told stories of my time was of Atlantica, the Alicorn ruins that stand despite the eons since their people fell.”
“Atlantica? Seriously?” Vital Spark asked with a deadpan expression.
“Is something wrong?”
“In my world, that’s the name for an underwater city of merpeople in a fantasy cartoon based on an old folktale that deviates massively from the true story plotline. It’s basically a ripoff of Atlantis.”
“And what is Atlantis?”
“An ancient mythical city from our world’s folklore. It’s one of the older legends. Basically, it was a perfect civilization, where technology and arts flourished and developed far beyond that of any other race or people of the era. Some claim it was magic. As the story goes, the peoples of Atlantis went too far, and because of their pride, they were punished by the gods, and their island city was sunk to the bottom of the sea, far beyond the reach of man.”
“Huh.” Clover shrugged. “There are a lot of strange parallels between our worlds.” Clover shrugged. “Anyway, when you’re finished with that gem, you can go for today. Tomorrow, you’ll be joining in with Grif and Rarity. Bring your focus.”
“Will Twilight be joining us, too?”
“Possibly. Grif’s agreed to help get you and a few Unicorns more in touch with your weapons.”
“Good. I’m still kind of stuck for a name with mine. Funny, considering how easily they usually come to me.” Vital shrugged. “Ah well. I’m sure I’ll figure it out eventually. Say, can I borrow that book? I was getting a little tired of reading my practice stories. It’s time to graduate to something more advanced anyways.”
“Just take care of it.”
“You bet. I wonder if Twilight’s ever heard of these before,” he muttered to himself as he levitated the book into his saddle bag.
Grif looked around the cleared field. A confused collection of Unicorns stood awkwardly to one side while Rarity and Ping both sat before a rolled-out stretch of parchment. Rarity had a quill and inkwell, and Ping had a brush. More rolled-up slips of parchment, and quills waited in neat stretched-out rows.
“Well, don’t be shy. Find a place, and sit down.” Grif gestured to the open spaces.
The group did so. “So, uh, Grif, would you mind explaining what’s going on here?” Vital asked as he laid his focus next to him.
“I need to know how well you understand your weapon,” Grif explained. “What are its flaws? What are its strengths? How does it like to be held? A good warrior understands all these minor details in battle. To gauge where you stand, you’re each going to write a short poem describing your weapon’s persona.”
“Not haiku, I hope. No offense to the noble art, but I don’t know if I can make it that succinct,” Vital said with a respectful nod to Ping.
“The type of poem is up to you. It’s what’s behind it that matters. Understanding your weapon for all that it is, and how it reflects you, can change the face of the battlefield.”
“I’m guessing a lot of the Ponies here are going to have some trouble.” Vital frowned. “. . . I miss Silver Spear.”
“He’ll be back sooner than you know,” Grif assured him.
Vital sighed. “I hope so.” Then he steeled himself, and looked up to Grif. “So when do we start?”
“Whenever you're ready. Unless anyone else has questions?” Grif asked as he peered around the clearing.
The rest of the guards were quick to shake their heads.
“Then, everyone, start your pens!” Vital smiled as he levitated the quill and inkwell over, then picked up his staff to stare at it and the pearl that sat in its mount. The other Unicorns also took their materials, and began to stare at their weapons. Some swung wildly, or went through carefully controlled exercises. Others closed their eyes to enter into deep meditation, and others still simply scratched their heads in utter confusion.
Grif, for his part, sat patiently at the front of the group. He casually ran his talons across the hilts of his swords. He didn’t need to write down his thoughts to express them. They were ice and fire, the heavens and the earth, thunder and lighting. Vigilance fed from the chaos of the battle, while Vengeance fed from the wrath of his anger. Vigilance preferred high cuts, and reveled in decapitation, while Vengeance preferred the lower strikes, and found great satisfaction in running an enemy through. The two blades where the same, and yet different, and he understood them intricately.
“This exercise may be harder for those of you who haven’t seen battle with your focus yet. Try to visualize it in your head, and it might help give you a picture.”
Vital Spark sighed as he looked over his staff. “You know, I’ve used you plenty of times, but never really much in battle. The only time I ever did consciously was when we had to cast that spell to protect the castle. You and I don’t really like to fight. We prefer to help when we can.” He smiled as the name slid into place in his mind. “I think I’ll call you Watcher. We only fight when we have no other choice, and when we do, it’s to protect the ones we love.” And with that, the quill began to fly across the page as he began his first draft.
Grif smiled as he noticed Vital’s progress quicken. He was starting to understand it, or at least to understand the relation between him and his weapon. Clover’s Unicorns were still making short bursts of progress followed by moments of nothing. Ping had finished her poem in rather delicate calligraphy, and was busy inspecting her nodachi’s edge, while Rarity oiled her blade meticulously with a rag.
“Huh. I think I might be done. At least with the first draft,” Vital finally said as he got up, and handed his scroll to Grun.
Betwixt the paths of space and time, I called you, and you came. In hours of need we stand as one, our purposes the same. To heal, to warn, to guard, to love, to reason and make wise. Tis only when the dire comes that we fight for our lives, and for the lives of those held dear within our double heart. For in the beginning, and through the end, we act the Watcher's part.
“Huh,” Grif said as he read over the poem. “You certainly understand . . . Watcher?”
Vital nodded his confirmation.
“We’re going to have to work on what the two of you consider a necessary combat situation, and you're going to need to get a little deeper into the personality of your weapon,” Grif critiqued, “but you definitely get the concept.”
“It kinda helps picturing Watcher as a person, instead of an object.”
“It is, in a sense.” Grif looked at him. “It’s a projection of you, a shard of your very being made real. As experience molds and changes you, it will mold and change your weapon, and from that, it will deviate from you. You need to understand it in order to understand how to use it.”
“And to know it, I must know myself?”
“Yes, and everything about yourself,” Grif noted. “That little part you don’t think about, that tiny voice most people ignore? The good, the bad, the dark, the light, the sinner and the saint. You need to understand all parts of you.”
“And if I already understand them, but don’t want to be them?”
“You think I want the bloodlust?” There wasn’t anger in his tone, just cold neutrality. “You think I enjoy that part of me that revels in the warmth of my enemies’ blood on my fur? You don’t need to delve into that side of you, and you don’t need to accept all that’s evil about you, but you do have to accept it’s there. It will always be there. Every light casts a shadow, and it is the shadows that brighten the light. To destroy one is to destroy the other.”
“Okay, first of all, wasn’t talking about destroying them, so I’m sorry if I hit a nasty cord there. Secondly, I agree. I just wanted to make sure I had the proper gist of the lesson.”
“Clover went over the basic forms with you for a staff, I take it?”
“Why do you think I’ve been training with a bo staff in the yard?”
"From now on, you’re going to be using Watcher for them, and you're going to be doing them once in the morning and once at night with your hooves. Rarity has told me she understands sword forms better after learning them physically first.”
“In other words, muscle memory switches over to magical memory.”
“It can shave nanoseconds off your movements, and that, believe it or not, can save your life.”
“Hey, I believe it. Any other tips?”
“Clover taught you to polish, sharpen, and oil your weapon where needed?”
“Yup. Right after we all reported in to show her our work. In a way, these are a lot like zanpakuto, aren’t they?”
“If zanpakuto were this complicated.” Grif laughed. “They don’t need to be sharpened, cleaned, or oiled, after all. Either way, you should attend one class a month with Rarity and Ping, and we’ll work on getting you to the position you need to be, all right?”
“Um . . . do you think we could maybe add Zecora to that list? She seems pretty handy with a staff.”
“If she wants to come and offer some guidance, I won’t say no, but my job is to make sure you learn to respect this.” Grif tapped the metallic end of watcher. “Even if it’s not a blade, it’s still something you need to watch.”
“I know.”
“Hey, what are we, chopped liver?” one of the other Unicorns yelled.
“Oh no. I like chopped liver,” Grif said, doing an about face from Vital, and looking at them. “You slobs are the pathetic, sad souls that are you, and I am the devil that Clover sold you all to. As of now, you’d all better consider yourselves back to boot camp. We’ll be doing two classes a week, until I’m satisfied. If I am not satisfied in a month, we’ll be doing three classes a week. The Changelings took us by surprise, but when plants are getting the best of you, then it gets pathetic. Clover will mold you into mages, but it will be here that you become true battle mages, and you will address me as Sir, boy! Is that clear?”
The offending Unicorn gulped. “S-sir, yes, Sir.”
“Very good. Now those of you who are finished, turn your poems in at the front, and pair into groups. If I see a horn so much as spark while you spar, the whole group runs twenty laps around the outside of new unity! And as for those of you not finished yet, hurry the heck up! This isn’t a spa!”
“Um, Sir?”
“Yes, Unicorn who must consider his next words very carefully?”
“With all due respect, Sir, where does that put Vital Spark in all this? Will he be running and training with us from now on?”
“Vital Spark is the apprentice to Clover the Clever. He is here on her request to brush up on his weapon work, but he is still her direct pupil. She has agreed to teach you all in the battle mage program, as have I. This means while he will be sitting in on some of our time together, he is not here to be molded into something resembling a warrior who might survive on the battlefield. You are. Is that clear enough?”
The soldier saluted immediately. “Yes, Sir!”
“Good.” Grif chuckled darkly. “Now let’s get this party started.”
Big Guns snorted impatiently as he ran the whetstone over his war axe. The delegate was supposed to be arriving today, and he hated feeling so anxious about the whole thing. He’d already tried running, well, charging in his case. That hadn’t worked out so well for the gatehouse. He still couldn’t remember why it was so hard for him to turn away. Then he took a cup with the demos. After the last incident, strict orders had been given that he only be allowed a single serving of any of their brews a day. It was bad enough when he got himself plastered the night he found out the news. Zecora had ripped him a new one, as had about half the rest of the garrison, after he wound up on a drunken rampage, and nearly went after the Gryphons to pick a fight. If it weren’t for Grif’s swift intervention, he probably would have.
The plants had turned out to be more of a blessing than a curse. He’d taken down quite a few of them before the sedation, but . . . at least while he was asleep, he was able to dream. He could be his old self again, walk on four hooves, pass through Ponyville without everypony staring, see his mother. . .. He sighed and shook his head as he dabbed the tears away with the stone, and got back to work. Now was not the time, even if he did want to collapse. His mother was long gone by now. He’d visited her grave just a few days prior to lay some flowers. It was covered in lichen, eaten away by time, but the letters were still readable after a careful cleaning. What would she think of him now?
Big Guns sighed again as he finished sharpening the ax, and replaced it in its hip holster. Then he pulled out his war hammer, and started polishing the wood and metal latticework along the hammer’s shaft. Its pommel glowed a wavering light purple, almost as though it were hesitant.
“Big Guns doesn’t know.” He sighed. “So much has changed. How can Big Guns just . . . let go? I don’t want to forget. I . . . I don’t want to lose any more. His eyes stung as he struggled to hold back the traitorous tears. He couldn't cry. He musn’t cry. Crying wouldn’t solve anything. Crying would just make it hurt more, make him look weak when the ambassador came. He couldn't afford it. He couldn’t . . . couldn’t . . ..
His hands tightened on the shaft. “Damn it,” he swore as he felt the hot streaks run down his cheeks. They almost seemed to burn. Or was that just his new Minotaur nature rebelling? He grit his teeth as his arms began to shake from how tightly he held his hammer.
“You find yourself in need, Iron Will’s here to lead!” a voice spoke up behind him.
Of all the times. . .. Big Guns was swift to rise. He reached up to return the hammer to its place on his back, while doing his best to stealthily wipe any signs of the weakness he’d shown. One thing he learned early on was Minotaurs didn’t appreciate weakness, unless it was justified.
He turned to face the Minotaur, and was surprised to find that this one didn’t have any of the markings of tribal garb he’d expected. Iron Will was a tall, burly blue minotaur with yellow eyes, and an even darker blue mane that jutted like a mohawk. His silver nose ring, thick polished horns, and dark blue goatee accentuated his masculinity, and a thicker growth of fur on his shoulders indicated he normally wore pauldrons. About the only article of clothing he seemed to have was a little black tie that was far too small for his gigantic chest.
“You look . . . different than I thought you would,” Big Guns finally said.
“Iron Will doesn’t always dress the same.”
Big Guns shrugged. “So, you came to help me?”
“Iron Will has heard of your situation. He believes he can help you adjust.”
“Do we always refer to ourselves in the third person?” Big Guns blurted.
“No. It’s a quirk of Iron Will alone.”
“Then how come Big– I mean, I . . . do it, too?”
“Iron Will doesn’t know. Iron Will suspected it was just something you did.”
Big Guns shook his head. “Not before . . . before all this.” He sighed. “Zecora told you about everything?”
“She told Iron Will about the garden, and what Iron Will needed to know beyond that.”
“This is the first time something like this has happened for your . . . our? people before, isn’t it?”
“That, Iron Will is aware of, but Iron Will has worked at helping Ponies before, so Iron Will should be able to help you, too.”
“I’m not going to turn into a screaming ball of rage, am I?”
“Iron Will has learned from his mistakes, and has made necessary changes to his program.”
“That doesn’t exactly answer the whole question. I didn’t mean just with your program. I’m . . . well, I guess I’m sort of scared about this. What I’ll lose. What I’ll become.”
“Iron Will isn’t a cow. He isn’t trained in the ancient ways or to offer guidance. He can only help you to motivate yourself.”
“To do what?”
“To find yourself.”
Big Guns snorted as he tried to contain a skeptical laugh. “Sorry. Sorry. It’s just . . . Big Guns has been under a lot of pressure lately, mostly from me.” His brow furrowed. “It really is annoying switching between third and first, though.”
“Then pick a stance, and stick with it.”
“That’s the annoying thing. I keep leaning towards the third, but I want to stay first.”
“The only thing holding you back is yourself,” Iron Will said, stomping a hoof. “Grab that part that’s leaning towards third person, and crush it.”
“That’s it?”
“Iron will doesn’t see the need to overcomplicate it.”
“Well, I guess the bluntness is universal.” Big Guns smiled, albeit only slightly. “Well, I guess I don’t have anything better to do. Might as well give it a shot, right?”
“That's the spirit. Now I’m sure you’ve heard a lot about Minotaurs, especially with all the Gryphons around. You should know it’s not all true.”
“I actually met a nice cow a while back who told me a little. It took a while to convince her I used to be . . . well, you know.”
“Ah, well then, let's head into Ponyville, and Iron Will will buy you a cup of coffee as we try and tie up everything you need to know.”
“You think we could make it cocoa instead? I’ve had enough of the hard drinks for a while.” He chuckled nervously as he ran his fingers through his root-like mane. That, and Hammer Strike forbade me from getting drunk or hopped up. It’s a long story.”
“Very well. You can tell Iron Will all about it when we get there.”
“I guess so.” Big Guns blushed as the two made their way towards the gate.
“We can pick up some horn polish while we’re in town, too. You could use a good grinding.”
“Wait, what?”
Iron Will chuckled. “You’ll see.”
Vital Spark sighed as he looked over each of the instruments, and sampled the bows to test how they sounded in combination with one another. “This is really hard. I’ve never actually shopped for a violin here before, and they all sound great. I just don’t know if I’m supposed to find one that tunes to my magical aura or something else.” He sighed as he put them back gently. “Maybe I should ask for some help from a manager or something. Then again, maybe just one more.”
Vital’s horn glowed yet again as he levitated a shiny redwood polished violin and a matching bow. “Why is it that red always draws me closer?” He chuckled as he tuned up the violin by ear, then ran through a basic fiddling tune from earth, starting off with the chicken reel, before shifting to a few other old classics from back home. His playing was a bit on the slow side at first, but as he got the rhythm of it, he let the notes fly from his horn to the fiddle, and let it rip with a laugh.
A few notes in another fiddle joined in the music, easily matching his playing, before grabbing onto the rhythm, and carrying it into a quick light tune, then ending with a flourish of notes and a triumphant chord.
Vital Spark turned in surprise, and nearly dropped the precious cargo out of shock when he saw the Pony’s face and mane. They were a dead ringer for Octavia, right down to the eyelashes and the upturn of her muzzle, but her fur was a bright yellow, and her mane a dark blue. “Oc . . . tavia?”
“Oh, y’all know my sister?” the mare said in a thick southern accent.
Vital Spark deadpanned. “Twins?”
“Eeyup.”
“Apple Family?”
“Eeyup.”
“And Octavia didn’t mention you, because she still feels guilty about what happened when she first left to start her career?”
“That’s Octy, alright.”
Vital Spark grinned. “The name’s Vital Spark. Pleased to meet you.” He extended a hoof. “You’re incredible, you know that?”
She blushed. “Aww shucks. T’wern’t nothin’. Name’s Fiddlesticks.” She bumped his hoof with her own.
“Pleasure to meet you. Say, you wouldn’t happen to have enough time to help a Unicorn pick a new violin, would you? It’s the first time I’ve actually purchased one for myself before. My last one . . . well, it’s complicated. You know how things can get in the Everfree.”
“Well now, anything in particular you're looking for?”
“Well, that’s the thing. I want to get some great sound and quality materials, but my last instrument was, well, let’s just say it’s pretty much blown away by just about every single one here. I know how to play ‘em, just not necessarily how to pick the one that fits me, you know what I mean?”
She nodded “Well then, what's your price range?” she asked.
“Uh, would you believe me if I said Hammer Strike wants to foot the bill?”
“Ah. So you're one of them Ponies up at New Unity Cousin Applejack’s doin’ business with?”
“Well, not directly, but I do love her baked goods. Those apple fritters are practically irresistible. My mouth's watering just thinking about them.”
“Should be. Family’s been perfecting that recipe for two hundred and seventy years.”
“Well, you and your family sure know how to do ‘em up right,” he said with a forced twang.
“Anyway, most Ponies would tell you to go for the fanciest fiddle they got, but that's just a lot of work. Expensive wood means it’ll need a lot of polishin’ and extra care. You seem like you’d appreciate something more sturdy, I expect.”
“Considering this is Ponyville, and I’m living at New Unity with Pensword, Hammer Strike, and Grif? Yeah, I’d say I need something sturdy.”
“Well, this may sound a little biased,” Fiddlesticks said in a conspiratorial whisper, “but you won’t find quality like the apple wood fiddles they got.”
“You actually let them do that to your trees?”
“We do sell applewood when it’s available, from trees that get knocked down or stopped producing apples. It lets us clear the deadwood for new trees, and the wood keeps being useful.”
“And would the fine lady happen to know where I might find such a fiddle to try?”
She moved down the aisle, before selecting a fiddle and offering it to him. The wood was smooth and heavily varnished with a darker red stain, almost like an apple skin. The surface had been carefully polished and maintained, and its F holes ended in a familiar scrawl. The edges of the violin were carved with intricate celtic runes, which had also been carved into the bridge and along the violin’s neck, scroll, and pegs.
“It’s beautiful,” Vital Spark practically gushed as his eyes widened. “And it fits my family history, too!” He grinned.
“Give it a try,” Fiddlesticks encouraged.
Vital Spark took the instrument and began to play a haunting melody, slow and sweet, before gradually increasing tempo and intensity. As he did so, his magic poured into the runes, and they began to light up, flowing like water across the designs. The further it spread, the less the sound of the music came to mind, and the closer he came to sights and smells. He sailed over the misty moors of Ireland, soared to the highest cliffs, dashed across the waves with the sea foam, danced among the cairns and the fairy rings with the fair folk. Then he was in a bar fight to protect a lady’s honor, then a race down the lane and across the meadows. Finally, it ended in a dance and a jig with the fair maiden, after winning her hand, and laughing all the while. Her fiery hair blazed across her shoulders, its yellow and red streaks shining in the sunlight. Her cyan eyes twinkled in merriment as she leaned in, and kissed him on the cheek. Her voice echoed in his mind as the last chord struck, and he ended with a start as he realized he was picturing Sunset Shimmer. His cheeks flushed violently, and the magic flow cut off from his horn.
Fiddlesticks dove, and caught the precious cargo, before the catastrophe that was gravity could finish its deadly work. “You okay?” she asked as she lifted the fiddle.
“I . . . I’m sorry. Just . . . sorry.” Vital took some deep calming breaths. “That . . . was intense.”
“You got something on your chest you need to let off?”
“I just never experienced something like that before. It was like I was somewhere else, instead of playing. Do you get that when you play your fiddle?”
“The best music comes from inside you.” Fiddlesticks shrugged. “It resonates with your heart.”
“My heart?”
“Fleshy pulpy thing? Pumps blood?”
“I was thinking of the metaphorical type, but, uh, yeah. That . . . kinda has some ramifications I really don’t want to consider right now.” A bead of sweat formed on the side of his brow.
“Anyway, if you like that fiddle, I think you should go for it. It suits you well.”
“I, uh . . . thanks. I think I will.” He took a deep breath to try to calm down. He clearly had some things he needed to work out with Clover, or maybe Zecora. “Mind carrying it to the checkout for me? I’m not sure I trust my magic right now.”
“Okay.” Fiddlesticks nodded.
As Vital Spark made the arrangements for the payment, and the cashier got the case and accessories to go with the purchase, an idea struck. “Say, Fiddlesticks, if you’re not too busy this Thursday, why don’t you come on down to the orchestra practice? If Octavia’s still struggling with guilt, I’m guessing the best way to help her overcome it is to just visit.”
“I’ll see what I can do.” The mare nodded.
“Great! I’ll see you there. The orchestra meets at around seven.” He smiled as he slung the new violin case over his back, and secured it. “And thanks again, Fiddlesticks. I really appreciate the help. I’ll tell Applejack you say hi the next time I see her.”
”Until next time.” Fiddlesticks waved a hoof, before she cantered out the door.
Hammer Strike stood patiently in a clearing just outside of New Unity. He’d made sure to clear the area of workers, so they could practice in peace, without risking anypony’s existence. Pensword was making some fairly good progress, all things considered. Another week or two, and he could potentially let Pensword work on practicing alone, which would finally lead him towards the recovery of his field.
Pensword walked from behind a tree, looking over the same chapter one last time. He flicked an ear to show he’d heard Hammer Strike, and spoke without looking up. “I have light paperwork at the moment, so I took the morning off to read again out here till lesson time.”
“Good. It’ll be easier to teach this if you’ve at least read on it.”
“I have been told I have to memorize the fifth chapter, and I can only get half of it to memory before I start mixing things up,” he replied grumpily. “I am doing the best I can, but I doubt I will ever commit this to memory.”
“You don’t need to have it down to a tee. So long as you fully understand it, it’ll work,” Hammer Strike replied as he started pulling out a few crystals.
“Understood. So, what are today’s crystals going to be?” A slight thrill of pleasure went through him as he realized Hammer Strike had yet to address him by his military rank. Perhaps he was making progress, after all.
“Today, I’m going to be teaching you how to safely release aspects from a crystal form to what they originally were,” Hammer Strike said as he held a dark grey, almost black gem up. “Name the aspect.”
“Entropy?” Pensword asked.
“Correct.” Hammer Strike put the crystal down, and pulled out a yellow gem.
“No, order is white,” Pensword muttered. “Light? What was it? What was it called?” he slapped a wing to cover his eyes. “LUX! Like Questor tales.”
“Close due to color, but try to feel the aspect.”
Pensword quickly found the tingly part of his mind Grif had helped him locate in previous lessons, and pushed forward to feel the crystal, doing his best to understand its nature. He could almost feel the the currents shifting around the gemstone.
“Air?” he finally asked. “Is it air?”
Hammer Strike smiled. “Correct. Now this one was mentioned, but I don’t expect you to get it right at this stage,” he commented as he pulled out a purple gem. The feeling was everchanging, a flow that would fluctuate and shift at every moment.
“Chaos,” Pensword responded quickly as he thought of Discord.
“Incorrect,” Hammer Strike replied just as quickly, before pulling out a black gem. The energy around it distorted in an almost angry fashion, lashing out, and then calming down in an instant. “This is chaos, a stronger form of entropy,” he explained, before pulling out the purple gem once more. “This is Praecantatio. In Equish, it translates to magic.”
“Okay, Purple. Twilight is purple, and she’s the element of magic. That should be simple to remember,” Pensword muttered. “Did you take it from Twilight? Because that makes me wonder if a Pony’s magic would stay purple or match their coat color.”
“No, each aspect seems to form a color of choice, and sticks to it, no matter the source. Certain colors make sense to the mind, but, for all I know, visually, it can change between forms of creation, when the actual aspect of it suddenly starts existing.”
“Okay. . .. I definitely don’t understand what you just said about aspects suddenly existing between forms of creation. I am guessing that is for another lesson?”
“No, no, just a theory. Now, let’s start with the basics. Can you form an air crystal?”
“Uh.” Pensword gulped, and closed his eyes to lessen his nerves as he focused on the air around him, and drew it towards a wing tip. He could feel the air moving along the feathers, before a small crystal the diameter of a quarter, and the length of his hoof solidified. He quickly snapped his wing around to cradle it, before it had the chance to fall. “Like that?” he asked. Then his eyes widened as he took in the full size of the crystal. “Woah. That was a little bigger then I wanted.”
“Yeah, that happens sometimes with beginners. Don’t worry about it. you’ll refine size and amount the longer you practice. Now, when you feel the aspect, you should be able to note that it almost feels like it has a sort of . . . shell surrounding it, I guess you could say. You can direct the flow of the aspect, just like you would normally, by tapping into the gem, just as you did to form the crystal. Only, this time, you need to direct the energy to disperse, rather than collect. Now, remember, you need to do this slowly, or it could result in an aspectual shift, which is incredibly harmful.”
“I remember reading the report Twilight wrote on her witnessing of the explosion.” Pensword gulped, and slowly let a breath, before extending his senses to his creation. This time, he he decided to watch the process as he worked. He felt the power within the crystal, and slowly pierced the metaphorical shell. A small crack sounded from the crystal, and Pensword felt the energy slowly bleed out from the crystal. It traveled out over his wing, then over the top of his head, and down his spine, before trickling off his tail and the feather tips on his other wing. He let it speed up a tiny bit, so it was a constant stream, and not the steady drip from before. “Woah. This feels kind of funny.”
“It will for a while. You’re displacing an aspect around you, rather than to a single point. Now, we’re going to practice this with a few more aspects, and if I feel you’re doing fine, you can start practice outside of these lessons.”
Pensword waited for the Crystal to vanish, before speaking. “Okay. I’m ready for the next one. I guess, well, if you don’t mind my asking, when do we work on Spirit? I understand if we can’t for a while, but I’d like to know.”
“We’ll work with compound aspects much later,” Hammer Strike said with a flat expression. They’re incredibly dangerous, and highly volatile. You have to master these basic principles first. I’ll let you know when you’re ready to graduate to compounding aspects.”
Pensword sighed. He’d expected the answer, but he was still disappointed. “Okay, so what is the next aspect you want?”
Grif smiled as he held one of his daughters on each wing, while the cubs looked curiously at the timber wolves that panted happily around them. He couldn’t help but chuckle at the mixtures of confusion, fascination, and surprise that played across their faces whenever they’d lean too close, and a wolf would gently lick them.
“They’d better not get them too sticky, Grif. I already had to bathe them once today,” Shrial said with a playful smirk.
“You're the one who said it was a good idea to show them the pack while they’re young.”
“And wouldn’t you say I was right? Just look at how Sylvio treats them.”
“Of course,” Grif said as he rubbed the smooth timberwolf’s shell-like wooden plates. “Still, dogs lick to show affection, and, unfortunately, timberwolves lick tree sap, instead of slobber.”
“That would explain the CMC’s aversion. I believe one of them wanted to try timberwolf training, or riding, or something like that, but once Sylvio went to say hello, they ran away screaming.”
“They have a . . . certain history with tree sap.” Grif chuckled. He watched Athena attempt to swat at one of the timberwolves. Fortunately, her tiny talons were unable to do any real damage. “Well aren't you the brave one,” he cooed.
“She takes after her father that way.”
“Her father didn’t lead an army against impossible odds to a fortress no one was quite sure existed, and win, did he?” Grif chuckled. “You never do yourself enough credit.”
“You do realize Hammer Strike did all the work there, right?”
“Not from what the reports say. You seem to have been shrouded in a fine red mist of your own, madam Red Valkyrie.”
“That was for a different mission.” She blushed as she looked away. “Grif!”
“Still, take pride in yourself, Shrial. These girls have bravery on both sides, and a mother who could probably slay a mountain, if she was motivated.”
“Mmm.” She smiled dreamily. “Time for feeding again.” She kissed him. “Mind rounding the girls up?”
“What do you mean, rou-?” It was then he noticed his wings were currently devoid of weight as the two giggling cubs clung to two different timberwolves running in two different locations. “When did they do that?”
“When did you slip into bullet time?”
“I didn’t.” Grif shrugged. “This shouldn’t take long.” Somewhere in an astral plane, Irony chuckled cruelly as she watched the father trying to round up both cubs over the next hour.
A ray of moonlight shone down onto the balcony outside Luna’s quarters. All was still and quiet as the shadows of the night wrapped the world in its calming blanket. The hour was late, and all would be asleep. None were there to witness the strange event as the stars seemed almost to move of their own free will, and slowly float down the moonbeam to the balcony below. As each touched the stone, they joined one to another, first forming a hoof, then a leg, and repeating the process until they joined to form the barrel, the tail, the mane, the head, and, at last, the royal torc. With one final flash of light, Princess Luna stood whole and healthy beneath her charge. She sighed in relief, and allowed herself a brief smile as she took in her beautiful night. It had been so long since she had been able to walk among the stars. It was a most welcome respite indeed.
“Took you awhile,” Hammer Strike commented suddenly.
Luna jumped, and let out a surprised whinny. When she calmed down, she took a deep breath, and turned to him. “Greetings, Lord Hammer Strike.”
“So, I have just a few questions. And I’m almost positive you’re free, correct?”
“Yes,” Luna said, trying her best to smile confidently, . . . and failing miserably.
“Good,” Hammer Strike replied as he casually sat in a nearby chair. “So, you ran, which surprised me–.”
“I didn’t run. I made a tactical retreat,” Luna protested.
“Most of the time, tactical retreats are considered smart moves, Luna. This isn’t one of those times.” Hammer Strike almost grinned, before he calmed himself. “This was most certainly not one of those times.”
“You caught me unprepared. I couldn’t face you after getting captured like that.”
“Well, you’re facing me now.” This time, Hammer Strike did grin. “And we have a lot to talk about. I mean, I suppose something must be done, but I’m just thinking on what it’ll be.”
“I’m in trouble, aren't I?” Luna asked with a sigh.
“You wouldn’t have been, if you didn’t run. Celestia came forward, and accepted her fate, though part of me is unsure on if she accepted it, or realized how much worse it would have been if she ran, too. I have plans for her, but the brunt of it falls to you.”
Luna bowed her head.
“We can’t do sparring. I’m sure that’d be too much fun, even after a good week of it. I could always have you around New Unity with something to do,” he mused. “What about some light weapon training? Something you’re not use to, I think.” The grin turned into a vicious sneer as the idea dawned. “Yes, a rapier.”
“A rapier?” Luna balked. “But they're so light, and they break so easily. There would be no way I could swing it, and not shatter it.”
“Exactly. So we’re going to keep at it, day in, and day out, until you can use it. Yes. That sounds perfect.”
Luna stood there with her jaw hanging open, unable to reply.
“We start tomorrow. And by tomorrow, I mean the second it hits midnight.” Hammer Strike allowed himself another grin.
Extended Holiday Ch 109: Knowledge and Secrets Act 16
Pensword looked to Grif. “You’re serious. You’re telling me that your Clan wants a cinema? Why?” He shook his head. “I just got hit on my end with the same request from the troops.”
“You mean you haven’t heard about what’s happening next year?” Grif asked with a playful smirk.
Pensword gave him a flat look. “I have been working on the bill, and my newspapers were missing today. I think Moon River took them to make hats out of them.”
Grif opened his bag, and withdrew a rolled sheet of paper. He flapped it open to reveal a deep crimson background with two black silhouettes: one of a Pony, and one of what seemed to be a massive horned creature. Between them was a brightly colored rose imposed over an intricate silver hand mirror. “Next year, High-end Visual Entertainment Incorporated brings you a tale as old as time itself in this fully animated color feature-length movie. So, please, join Billy Bee at your local theater, and be our guest as we present to you, Beauty and the Beast.”
“You . . . you–.” Pensword looked at the flyer. “You didn’t,” he deadpanned. “But how are we supposed to get a cinema? After all, we have to show justification, before this comes.” His look of exasperation turned to one of frustration, and then to a glare. “I’m blaming you for putting this idea into that studio’s heads.”
“Hey, they already had animation. It had to happen sometime.” Grif shrugged. “Someone heard me reading the story to the foals at the Punch Bowl the other day, and made me an offer. One transcript of the story for a rather fair price.”
Pensword proceeded to grumble, and then to complain. “This just gets in the way of my plans! I was hoping to create a studio, like how Disney helped the war effort back on earth, but now. . ..” He slumped. “We still have to figure out how to bring income in. Even Luna, my own, and the other incomes of the nobles will not be able to support the growth and maintenance of the military. Either we raise taxes, or we have to start having companies help Civilians, with profits or parts going towards helping maintain Military infrastructure.” He loosed a defeated sigh as he rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Well, then, where do we put it? Wherever it goes, it needs to be accessed by both Ponies and Gryphons, and we’ll have to consider some of the larger races, too, like Minotaurs.”
“Have you thought about investments?” Grif asked. “I mean, Equestria is pretty much an open market, and, between the two of us, we have a pretty sizable amount of money.”
“I have. But that is the long game. I am talking about short term, capital that would jumpstart everything,” Pensword said. “It doesn’t help that laws have to be changed, before some of those investments can become available for military use.” He looked around the clearing. “My wings are bound, it seems. I will go broke and destitute, if it means Equestria gets the military. I’ve only felt this strongly about one other nation, and it freaks Matthew out.”
“Don’t give up hope just yet,” Grif said as the smile dropped to business. “Hell, ask Hammer Strike for help to start. He owns the banks. I’m sure he’d happily give the military a large indefinite-term loan.”
“And that will bring in the accusations and blowhards claiming that Hammer Strike owns the military, and we could, and would lose support in the houses, if we do that. I can ask for a small one, perhaps. Half a million bits would likely be the most we can. That is the most Fancy Pants was able to donate. If Hammer Strike donates more than that, we will definitely lose support.”
“You’ll figure it out,” Grif promised. “Just give it time. Who knows? Maybe you’ll find a sympathetic friend in the studio's owner.”
“I hope so.” Pensword sighed. But I need to get back to work. I am drawing up plans, just to stay busy. That might be my next project: films or animations to invite pride in Equestria, and help Ponies see the military isn’t so bad, like the old US World War Two cartoons and movies.” He frowned. “I don’t know when my field will be fully back to strength, but, till then, Lunar Fang has maintained I sleep in my office. So, thanks to some of my books, I have a start on Project Iron Side.”
“Oh?” Grif raised a curious brow. “What's that project?”
“One word: Merrimack,” Pensword answered. He smiled, tried to hold his silence, but, ultimately, couldn’t help himself. “Another word: Seharia.”
“You’re reintroducing naval combat?”
“Yeah, but you’ve been around. What was the Merrimack? Or her foe? They battled for ages, and it was a stalemate, even after direct hits.” His expression brightened. It was good to be the one leading the conversation for once.
“I think it will be good for Equestria”
“Glad you think so, too. I have three planned: Equestria, Sun, and Moon. Personally, I liked the Merrimack more.”
“You’ll need factories for that, you know.”
“The Dwarves can help there. They make enough sheets of metal as it is for their machines. It would be nothing for them to incorporate more into their production for the ships. And that way, Hammer Strike will still be helping the Military out, just not in ways the nobles can trace.”
“Well, I look forward to the christening, or . . . Faustining? What do they call it here?”
“We call it a launching. But Luna wishes to show support to the United States, if these three prove seaworthy, Luna wishes to build one for use of the United States, if any more humans end up trapped in Equestria.” He blushed. “That is the official story, anyways. The real story is she wishes to give something to Matthew for all he’s gone through.” Pensword smiled. “He intends to call her Columbia.”
“That does seem like something he would do.” Grif let out a chuckle. “Anyway, I need to go handle some other matters. I’ll see you later, Pensword.”
“See you later. I will be in my office, working on this new project of yours.” He chuckled as he trotted back towards the castle, whistling a familiar tune.
“Okay, so on top of trying to figure out a wedding gift for the stallion that literally has everything, I now have to participate in the Running of the Leaves, because you signed me up for it. . . Once again without my permission, and used Grif to do it, because you knew he’d agree to it in a heartbeat. Does that about sum it up?” Vital Spark asked as he stood up on his hind hooves, and folded his forelegs.
“You catch on quick,” Clover noted, not even deigning to look up from her work.
“Clover, there are days where I really want to hate you, you know that?”
“The hate you feel for me does not even begin to pierce the membrane of the cells that make up the vast mountain of hatred I held for Star Swirl at times, my apprentice.”
“I’m guessing he threw you into a den of vicious beasts to gather some spell reagents for him?”
“Yes, but he didn’t trust other wizards, so he coded the list beforehand, and didn’t bother to give me the cypher required to crack it. Have you ever tried to break a code while fighting hordes of imps?”
“Can’t say that I have, though I’m surprised you didn’t just exorcise them to their home plane. Wouldn’t that have been simpler?” he asked as he clopped back down to all fours, and approached the work table.
“Imps aren’t always demons, Vital.” Clover sighed, and shook her head. “I learned that the hard way.”
“That would complicate things just a tad, wouldn’t it?”
“Yes, so running a simple marathon isn’t going to kill you, unless, of course, the trees are actually ents, but I highly doubt they’re in this area.”
“You mean aside from Groot?”
“You leave Groot out of this.”
“Hey, you’re the one who mentioned ents and plantlife. He does technically qualify.” Vital couldn’t help but smile impishly. “So what are you working on here?”
“Turning gold into lead.”
“For the sake of reversing the process afterwards? Or is there a particular end you had in mind?”
“My Gift to Hammer Strike. What do you give the Pony who has everything, and doesn’t want it? A way to be rid of it.”
Vital pursed his lips. “Clover, I am incredibly impressed, but also insanely jealous that you thought of it first. This round clearly goes to you.”
“Yes. As soon as I can master the formula. For now, you should probably be preparing for your marathon.”
“If Gif is allowed into this, he’s guaranteed to win, hands down.” Vital chuckled. “Either way, I guess I should be getting ready. Good luck on the formula, Clover.” He sighed as he passed through the door, and shut it behind him. “Many men have tried. Probably Ponies, too, but if anybody is going to be able to crack it, it’s you.” Then he bumped into a solid mass of metal and muscle, before thumping backwards onto his rump. “Ow.” He rubbed his snout as he looked up . . . and up . . . and up at the armored Pony.
“Oh. Sorry about that. Wasn’t watching where I was going,” the dusty voice spoke as the armored head looked down.
“Uh . . . no . . . problem?” Vital said as he slowly got to his hooves. “I’m sorry, have we met?”
“I don’t think so. I’m–.” Suddenly, an incredibly loud explosion rocked the castle’s floors, causing the smaller Unicorn to actually lift off for the briefest of moments, before touching down again with a light clop. Smoke and fumes began to pour out from under the door, followed by a great deal of cursing and swearing in old Equish. “But most folks call me The Storyteller.”
Vital Spark stared for the longest time at the Pony as he took in the voice, the general appearance, the design of the armor. “. . . This kind of thing wouldn’t happen to happen to you on a regular basis, would it?”
“Funny you should mention that. It does.”
Vital Spark promptly facehoofed. “I can’t believe the guys didn’t tell me about you.”
“Oh. Do we have some mutual acquaintances?”
“Hammer Strike.”
“Oh. Good to know. And you are?”
“Well, that depends on who you’re asking. My friends call me Vital Spark.”
“I believe I was asking you.”
“So you were.” Vital chuckled. “Just call me Vital Spark, Storyteller. Any friend of Hammer Strike’s is a friend of mine.”
“So, if I may be so bold, where were you headed in such a hurry?”
“I just found out I’ve been signed up for the Running of the Leaves. So now I’m going to have to train for the next few days, before actually running in it.” Vital shook his head. “My friends and my teacher have a peculiar sense of humor.”
“Huh. You know, in the pre-war times, leaves used to fall on their own, back before Ponies took total control over nature.”
“Is that so? How about you tell me about it on the way to the training yard?”
The Storyteller seemed surprised for a moment, before he started. “Well, you see, back in pre-war times, nature was left to its own devices. . ..” And so the storyteller began his story, and Vital Spark, in his ignorance, began a conversation that would last long into the night, and proceed to the following morning.
The Courtyard was abuzz as Wonderbolts and Demon Slayers stood gathered together. Rainbow Dash watched from the ramparts as an official guest of Commander Pensword, but she had received specific instructions to strictly to observe. Princess Luna stood on a high stand, dressed in her royal uniform from before her banishment to watch over the proceedings. Meteor Impact rested at her side. Commander Pensword and Captain Spitfire stood on either side of her. Down on the ground below, Lightning Dust stared up, awaiting the ruling she knew would come. True to Pensword’s orders, she had worn her Demon Slayers uniform.
Pensword casually took in the scene as he looked around the courtyard. The occasional flutter of motion in the shadows confirmed the presence of the spies from the other noble houses. Of course they’d be here. The nobles needed to find any means they could to smear the good name and standing of the Lunar court.
“Don’t worry about them, Pensword,” Luna said through barely-moving lips. “All they’ll see is how serious we are about ensuring proper procedure is followed in our armed forces.” Then she smiled.
“They might call us inhumane, if the judgement is too harsh in their eyes,” he noted casually.
“No matter what we do, it is likely they will seek to twist the narrative. What matters is how Lightning Dust feels about it in the end.”
Pensword looked to Captain Spitfire. She returned the gaze, then nodded as she stepped forward..
“Private Lightning Dust!” Her voice carried across the courtyard, rebounding off the walls, before fading into the silence of the skies above. “You stand here, having completed your penance for your actions during the Wonderbolt Academy. By all accounts, you have been through a training few have experienced since the Third Gryphon War. I would tell you your options; however, Princess Luna has asked for some time to address you. As a fellow warrior, and the Princess of this realm, I saw no reason to deny that request. Princess Luna, the floor is yours.” She stepped back to make room for Luna to step forward. Luna did so and leaned on the shaft of her hammer to look down on the recruit.
“In the time before my banishment, a recruit would be hung for the actions you displayed in the Wonderbolt Academy, Lightning Dust. You have endangered civilians and your teammates, and misused resources set aside for your training. That being said, I am glad today, that there have been changes in this regard. It would be a pity to see such talent as yours wasted. As of this moment, you have three paths made available to you.”
Lightning Dust did her best to keep her military bearing, and waited patiently for the choices to be given, though her eyes shone appreciatively at receiving such high praise from the princess.
“First, you may choose to return to Wonderbolt Academy as an instructor in basic tactical maneuvers. Second, if you wish to stay here in New Unity, you may decide to become one of the Demon Slayers officially. Your final option, should you so choose, is to return to civilian life, and gain employment as either a weather technician, or some other field suitable for your talents.”
Lighting Dust looked forward as she thought on the issue at wing. If she returned to the Wonderbolt Academy, it would be nice, but she wouldn’t really get to be a true Wonderbolt. That ship had sailed. She barely managed to keep herself from wincing as she thought of all the students that would be passing on to greater things, while she remained behind, a civilian contractor with no hopes of advancement. If she returned to civilian life, even with the Princess’ approval, she would still have the tornado as a black mark on her record. True, she paid her debt to society for her actions, but those actions still carried weight. Few, if any, weather officials would want to hire someone who had been so reckless as to put innocent Ponies, and even her own team, in danger. She could probably still get work, if she really tried, but as she thought about it, she realized she’d probably doubt herself, and second guess the decision as time went on. She didn’t like the idea of living with regret. That left only one viable option. She steeled herself as she looked up to the princess. A gentle smile pulled at Luna’s lips. She knew. Perhaps the two of them had more in common than Lightning Dust first thought. She’d probably chuckle, if it weren’t such a sober event.
“I’d like to stay in the Demon Slayers, Princess. I still have a lot to learn, and a lot more to do for Equestria. The training’s been hard, but the lessons were worth it. I’m not done yet. I want to keep going, keep growing, do something with myself, for the right reasons this time.”
Princess Luna nodded, and stepped back to give Pensword the stand. He looked around the courtyard with a steady gaze.
“Private Lighting Dust, I would be more than happy to accept you into our Demon Slayers. There is one slight problem.” He paused, and waited for his rumbling voice to fade. “You have been a menace to all privates everywhere, making them feel like they cannot get out of bed for the day.” He chuckled. “It seems you’ve already finished their work for them by the time they wake up.” He leaned forward. “That is why I cannot accept you.”
A collective gasp filled the courtyard, and Lightning Dust seemed almost to wither where she stood. A mirthful smirk played across Pensword’s face. “That is to say, I cannot accept you as a private.” He chuckled as he snapped a wing towards the shadows, where Fox Feather stepped forward, bearing a polished mahogany box. “So, I suppose I’m just going to have to settle for a Sergeant.” He hardened his bearing again, even as he saw the tears of joy brimming in Lightning Dust’s eyes. He would give her a proper congratulations after the ceremony. For now, he had a duty to fulfill. “Sergeant Dust, step forward to receive your unit crest, your new badges of office, and your day pass into Ponyville,” Pensword shouted.
Lighting Dust flew up in a stunned silence as Fox Feather opened the box. Fox Feather removed the private’s rank from Lightning Dust’s uniform with all the proper precision and ceremony. With the emblems properly secured, Fox Feather reached into the box to replace the space with the Sergeant’s emblem. The unit crest of the Demon Slayers was placed on the empty slot on her shoulder, and sewn on with Luna’s magic. Lightning stared down at the crest, a stylized head of a horned goat demon with two blades, one of Pony design, the other of Gryphon design, scissored beneath the creature’s neck a drips of blood flowed from the cuts where the blades had pierced flesh in the act of slaying of the beast.
“Welcome to the Demon Slayers,” Fox Feather said with a smile. “We expect you to slay the demons given to us by command, and in so doing, help to slay some of your own. Congratulations, Lightning Dust.
A collective cheer arose as the ceremony completed itself, and Lightning Dust soon found herself swarmed by Gryphons and Ponies alike as she finally dropped her composure, and let the tears flow. She had a future. She had a home. She had acceptance. And, most important of all, she had forgiveness.
Vital Spark frowned as he knocked on the door embedded into the tree trunk. The eyes of the mask over the door frame seemed almost to glow as the gentle flicker of candlelight and flames welcomed the visitor. The new acquisition lay on his back as he waited for the telltale hoofsteps. He was not disappointed.
“Vital Spark. What a pleasant surprise. This Zebra can hardly believe her eyes. I heard you’d returned to the life that was taken, and yet, here you are, so I must be mistaken.”
Vital Spark couldn’t help but laugh.
“Ah, there is the smile that spreads so much light. Tell me, what brings you to my home this night?”
As the two entered the house, Vital Spark couldn’t help but take a deep breath. The mixture of herbs and spices brewing in the pot over the fire filled the air with a sweet, spicy scent.
“It is an ancient recipe, what the Kitsune call aromatherapy.”
“Well, it definitely works.” Vital Spark chuckled as he pulled the case off his body, and levitated it onto the hut’s floor. “I wish I could say I came here just for a courtesy call between friends, but I’m afraid I need your advice, Zecora. Something strange happened to me earlier this week, and I wanted to see if you could help me make sense of it.”
“Is that so?” She smiled knowingly. “Well then, let’s have a go.”
Vital Spark pulled out the instrument, and levitated it for Zecora to examine. “I bought this in the store, but, as I was playing it, something happened. It’s . . . difficult for me to explain. One moment, I was standing in the shop, but the next, it felt like I was in a dream, but it felt so real. One minute I was flying, then I was playing, then I was dancing with a girl and . . . well. . ..” A blush rose in his cheeks, and Zecora couldn’t help but chuckle.
“A waking vision, or a fantastic dream? Let’s take a look closer to see what we can glean.” Zecora led Vital Spark to a table, where he gently laid the instrument down. She then proceeded to search through her ingredients, pulling out a variety of herbs and powders, which she proceeded to grind together in a mortar with a pestle. Then, she carefully poured the mixture into a circle around the instrument, and laide three candles in equidistant points along the circle. Next, she approached the place where the tree grew outwards to form her bedroom. She knocked on the floorboards three times, and they opened to reveal a small chest.
Zecora took the chest reverently, and slowly made her way back to the table. Then she flipped one of the larger masks aside to reveal a hidden compartment, where she drew forth a familiar tin. This, too, she placed on the table. Lastly, she retrieved her staff, and used it to remove one of her bottles from its place where it hung from the ceiling, and laid it on the table with the rest.
She opened the tin first, revealing bright silver-and-green leaves. Tiny gold veins seemed to flow through them as she pulled one out, and placed it on the circle. Then she closed the tin, and returned it to its hiding place. Next, she opened the bottle, and tipped it, until a tiny green tendril was exposed. She smiled as she looked to Vital Spark, and motioned toward the bottle. He nodded, and the tendril glowed blue as he pulled it out with his magic to reveal a weeping willow frond. This, too, was placed on the table, and laid upon the circle. Lastly, she whispered to the chest. A light wind blew through the room as candle flames flared, then dropped low as the chest’s catch unlocked. Zecora reached in, and pulled out a single wood chip. She placed it reverently on the circle, then closed the chest’s lid. As the catch sounded, all returned to normal again. She promptly returned the other two containers to their proper places, then came back to the table, where she laid three candles down at each of the empty points between the three ingredients.
“I cannot cast this spell for you. The words must be spoken exactly and true.”
“But I don’t have the experience.”
“The spell cannot be invoked with rhyme. Therefore, it falls to you this time.”
“. . . You seriously can’t do it?”
“I cannot say a single line, unless its mate is found in time. It is my burden, and I bear it well, as a price for a very powerful spell.”
“So you speak in rhyme because–.”
Zecora nodded. “I do not have another choice. Without my rhymes, I have no voice.”
“That’s . . . that’s just wow.”
Zecora nodded as she proceeded to pull out paper and a quill, and dipped it into a tiny vessel with what appeared to be some sort of dye. In a few minutes, the spell was written, and ready to go. “Read,” she urged. “Succeed.”
Vital Spark took a deep breath. Then he looked over the spell. “Wait, you seriously had that in your hut?”
“You must not ever tell a soul. Its power is not meant for the idle foal.”
“Do you have any idea how dangerous that can be?”
“Which is why I hide it within this tree. Now read, and cast. See what will be.”
Vital Spark gulped noisily as he looked over the scroll once more. “Okay . . . here goes.”
His horn glowed a gentle blue as he levitated the scroll, and read from the words:
“I call upon the ancient powers to reveal the nature of truth. Three forces divided, I now unite to aid in my search. I call on the first, the deepest of all, the sifter of the soul. You who lay the true nature bare, reveal to me now this item’s soul. I invoke thee, Tree of Essence.”
The first of the three candles flared as its wick and flame turned a bright green, and the leaf from the tree of essence glowed silver. Silver sparks descended over the instrument, and hovered within the circle, floating playfully as they touched the markings along the wood, drawing out wisps of silver light to float and waver like willowisps above the violin.
“I call upon the second to grant me knowledge and power to understand the nature I divine. You, who set the worlds upon their course. You, who open the eyes of the innocent. You, who blind the arrogant. You, whose fruit is sweet, but whose taste is death. Reveal the knowledge that I seek, and grant me power over it. I invoke thee, Tree of Knowledge.”
The second candle flared as its flame glowed scarlet. The wood chip began to smolder as smoke rose off of it, before it burst into flame, flickering between gold and black. As it did so, the powder beneath it began to ignite and spread, consuming as it went, and jumping with a malevolent crackle as it sought to destroy the other reagents. A sudden eddy swirled the wisps, causing them to form a tornado as the lights spun faster and faster with the spreading of the flames.
“I call upon the third to bind, and to hold back the flood. You, who temper the arrogant fires of upstart youth with experience and sound words. You, whose voice is the wind, so difficult to understand, but vital to those with the ears to hear. In humility, I call upon you now. Let thy wisdom bring balance and focus to my quest. Embrace me with your patient guidance, and guard me from the flames. Lead me to the gate, and help me to see. I invoke thee, the voice of wisdom, Grandmother Willow.”
The third candle blazed a cool blue with just a hint of gray at its center, and, as it did so, the willow frond snapped to attention, flicking the leaf into the air just in time to avoid the flames, before it rose and joined from end to end, closing to form a circle over the powder. It hovered there, for a time, then it began to spin, slowly, steadily as the blue light coursed over it, before it began to lower into the rising flames. As it did so, a pitiful whine sounded, followed by an angry pop from the wood chip. A single spark leapt out into the whirling fray within the confines of the circle to join with the leaf. Lastly, as the frond dropped to hover less than an inch above the table, a piece of root grew from its end, and broke off to join the other elements within the circle.
“By these powers three, united in purpose, let the truth be made clear. Reveal the nature of the magic that lies at this object’s heart. Help me find peace.”
The three flames rose from the candles, and merged with the storm to create a golden light. An old woman’s voice laughed kindly, and began to sing. “Que Que na-to-ra. You will understand. . ..”
As the song wound to its end, and the light faded, an image took shape within the circle, which was little more than a pile of ashes now. A great white spear, covered with looping engravings like the ones on the instrument hovered there.
Zecora’s eyes suddenly glowed a bright yellow, which quickly spread down her stripes, and across her flanks down to her hooves, where the wood of the tree wrapped around her hooves, and little sprouts grew. She laughed kindly, shaking her head, but the voice was not the familiar deep voice Vital Spark was used to. Instead, he heard a rich, strong woman’s voice somewhere in the middle register, yet, beneath it, he could hear an elderly grating of one who had lived a long time. The wood continued to grow upwards, and sprout green moss, which flowed down Zecora’s back to form a mantle as a wooden torc formed around her neck beneath the gold rings. A beautiful flower blossomed forth to fill the socket where the royal jewels or insignias normally sat. As a finishing touch, two green vines sprouted, and wrapped around Zecora’s earrings, before blossoming, and bearing fruit in vibrant greens, reds, and golds.
“My dear, brave little boy.” Zecora, or whatever thing had possessed Zecora, chuckled. “I’m afraid my granddaughter couldn’t make it. It’s a rather long journey to travel across the planes between the worlds, you know, and she prefers to remain with the children on Earth.”
“Wait a second. You know about Earth?” Vital Spark asked, surprised.
“Well, of course I know about Earth. I know about all the worlds, silly boy.” Again, she laughed. “Earth just happens to be one where I was . . . more active, I suppose you could say. Now then, why don’t we start off with proper introductions? This is your first time meeting me, after all. Oh, and don’t worry about Zecora. She and I are old friends. She’ll go back to normal once we’re done with our little discussion. Speaking of which, that spell she had you perform–” she clicked her tongue chidingly “–Very dangerous on her part. Still, I suppose it did get the proper result.” She lifted a hoof off the floor, and offered it to Vital Spark. “I’m Gaia, Mother of all Living, Spirit of Nature and the Wilds, etcetera. You really don’t need to hear the whole list. Why, my children have given me so many names, it would take me a whole century just to get through all the As.”
Vital Spark took a nervous step backwards.
“Oh, would you stop that already?” Gaia rolled her eyes as she shook her head, and a strong tendril of wood grew out from the wall to push Vital Spark back towards her again. “Honestly, you men always had such wild imaginations. If you’d listened to your wives more often, you wouldn’t be nearly so misinformed. I love all of my children, Vital Spark, even humanity.”
“Uh . . . say what now?”
“Do you really want me to use your birth name? I can, you know.”
“No, no! That’s . . . okay. I just . . . wasn’t expecting to be talking to, you know, the incarnation of pretty much all life? It’s a lot to take in.”
“This coming from a boy who speaks to a deity on a daily basis.”
“Hey! Praying and physically talking are–.” He broke off as he drew toward the conclusion of that sentence.
“And there it is.” She laughed mirthfully, until a glowing tear coursed down her cheek, and plopped onto the ground beneath, causing yet another branch to sprout. “You’re still talking either way. I’m just like any other god, and this is just another conversation, and I can tell you now, it won’t be our last.” She smiled tenderly. “Prometheus did well when he made some of your ancestors. Without them, you four couldn’t have been born, and without the four of you, this world, and, by extension, many others, would wither and die.”
“Seriously?”
“We all have our missions in life, Vital Spark.” She chuckled. “But enough about that. Fate and Destiny can take care of their own affairs. You called for help understanding something, and I answered that call. Now let’s see if we can’t answer your question, hmm?” Gaia walked over to the table, and peered up at the projection of the spear. “Ah. I see. That would explain the vision you mentioned.”
“You heard that?”
“Omnipresent embodiment of life and nature in all its facets, remember?”
“. . . Touché.”
“This instrument was fashioned based on the designs imbued in a divine weapon from the land of your forefathers. I’m afraid I can’t tell you too much about the nature of the ones who made it. The Celtic gods and I don’t always get along. And don’t even get me started on the fae. So few of them actually care about nature, and the ones who do usually take millennia before they realize it’s better not to meddle in the first place.”
“So why did it show me that vision?”
“Oh, that’s easy. It’s a branch of magic called Sympathetic Magic. Basically, your Celtic blood called to the magic that was imbued in the wood when the maker fashioned it after the spear’s design. It’s likely that whomever crafted this instrument still has the weapon in his or her possession. Naturally, as a boon from the Celtic gods, it only reacts to one of Celtic blood, ergo, you. In this case, rather than those ridiculous requirements to enact the magic, which is rather messy to say the least. After all, they are warriors. Anyways, as I was saying, rather than having to fulfill those ridiculous requirements, it reached into your own magic, and made contact with your soul, giving you a vision of things that matter most to you, even if you don’t know it yourself yet.”
“Say what now?”
“What’s the saying you kids use nowadays? Ah, yes. The heart knows what it wants.” She chuckled mirthfully. “And if that vision of yours is to be interpreted correctly, I think I know someone’s got a crush~!” she practically sang.
“I do not!” A heavy blush raced through Vital’s cheeks. His face was practically glowing. “I hardly even know her, and besides that, she was evil! I mean, sure, I’d like to give her a chance next time we meet and all that, but liking her? I mean, really liking her?”
“Just wait till you go back, darling. I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised. Don’t worry. I can give you plenty of tips.”
“I really don’t think that’s necessary,” Vital said hastily as he waved his hooves frantically. “Just . . . is there a way to make it stop, or at the very least control it?”
“Well, you have two options. You can either drain the magic out of it, which would basically destroy its quality and performance, and kill it, or you can live with it, and just power through the visions. The magic only activates when you get passionate about something. You were fiddling last time, so it pulled at your roots, and made you think of home, both as you remember it, and as your blood remembers it. In other words, it shouldn’t happen too often, and, if it does, it doesn’t mean you have to stop. If anything, you’ll just be going on autopilot, and can enjoy it and playing at the same time. Trust me, Vital, it’s not a bad thing.”
“But won’t it leave me open to attack?”
Gaia stared incredulously at him. “Warrior gods, warrior magics, warrior’s weapon. Sympathetic. Honestly, Conor, I do love you, and your simple approach to things, but, sometimes, your need for bluntness can be very frustrating. I can’t even begin to tell you how many times I tried to get your attention while you’ve been here.”
Vital Spark blinked in shock for a few moments, then spoke in a forced Caribbean accent. “It’s my nature. Would you love me, if I were any other way?”
Gaia burst out laughing. “Never change, Vital Spark. Your friends need that laughter.”
“Wouldn’t even dream of it.”
“Well, my time is up, and I think you and Zecora have a bit to talk about now. I need to get back to my husband. It’s date night tonight, you know.” She winked at him. “Oh, and Vital Spark, let those girls down gently, won’t you?”
“What girls?”
Gaia simply laughed as the light slowly began to fade, and the green to wither. “Spoilers,” she echoed as her last farewell.
Zecora blinked in surprise as she slowly came to on her bed. A cup of freshly-brewed tea levitated in a blue aura by her side. “Vital Spark?”
“Drink up, Zecora. You and I have a lot to talk about.”
Luna groaned as the two rapier blades met, and, for the umpteenth time, the two thin sword blades shattered in a shower of metal shrapnel. “This is pointless. We’ve broken more rapiers than necessary proving I can’t do this,” Luna said as she tossed the handle to a pile of likewise broken handles.
“Come now. You’ve been doing better about your power control,” Hammer Strike commented as he moved to grab another set of blades. “It took three more strikes that time, before the rapier shattered.”
“Yes, so we’re at a record of six strikes,” Luna said, rolling her eyes as she drew a new one.
“I mean, it was either this or paperwork. At least, with this, you’re learning a new form of combat,” Hammer Strike shrugged.
“One which I doubt I will ever use,” Luna said as the two clashed again. Ponies had gathered around to watch the combat, protected by walls of enameled glass, of course. Sparks flew as the thin blades clashed again, and again, until they inevitably shattered.
“Better safe than sorry. Magic can be hampered, your weapons damaged, so it’s best to know many forms of combat, and be prepared for any fight that could happen.”
“Why would anyone use anything so flimsy?” Luna asked with disgust.
“Speed. In the time it takes to strike an enemy with a greathammer, a weapon like this could have already struck you four or five times, depending on the user.”
“And done what, nicked the opponent? This blade wouldn’t even scratch my armor.”
To you, it isn’t much of a strike, but if it were a normal Pony, the blade can puncture deep into them, potentially hitting vital organs, and resulting in either a slow, painful death or a death far quicker than expected.”
“And have you ever employed one on the battlefield?” Luna asked as the two clashed again.
“Yes. When I first arrived, I found myself with a dull pair of short swords, so I picked up the closest weapon to me.”
This time they made it to nine, before the blades shattered. “They’re still far too weak.”
Hammer Strike sighed. “You think these are bad? Try a rapier forged by a different smith.”
“I’m surprised they didn’t shatter as you made them,” she said. “Do you tap them into shape with a mallet?”
“Yeah, I spent way too long working on strength control,” Hammer Strike said. “But it’s paid off.”
“Well then,” Luna said as she drew two more rapiers. “Shall we try for twelve?”
“Yes, we shall.”
Pensword smiled as he looked about with little Moon River once again on his back. It was good to be able to spend time with his daughter again. Unfortunately, Moon River was not in the best of moods, and was currently glaring at her mother. He looked to Rarity and Hammer Strike, along with Grif, Shrial and Avalon, and finally to Vital, who held a scroll that had most likely been given to him by Clover. “So,” he began, “are we ready to have some fun? I just hope they learned their manners this time around. Can you believe that it has been a year since the humans landed in Equestria?”
“Well, we’ve got a lot more money to spend this time around.” Grif laughed as he jingled a bag of coins. “Who knows what they’ve found for us!”
“I’m hoping for some rare materials,” Hammer Strike commented.
“You and me both. Clover gave me a whole shopping list of artifacts to look for. Apparently I’ve graduated to a new level in my apprenticeship. I am now, officially, the loyal pack mule. No offense,” he said as he turned to face a drabby gray mule who’d appeared behind them.
“None, taken,” he said as he plodded along.
“I swear I’ll never get used to that particular law of physics in this world,” Vital said as he shook his head.
“Ah, so you’re a level one point five apprentice then?” Grif chuckled.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Laugh it up, Grif.” Vital Spark muttered a few incomprehensible words under his breath.
“Well, I am going to shop for my daughter,” Pensword said.
Grif casually passed Moon River a small, but full, sack of bits. “And here’s a little something for you, in case you see something you want,” he told her with a wink.
“Grif, you may well have just dug the foundations of the New Unity branch of the CMC,” Vital said as he shook his head.
“Are you kidding? I look forward to seeing what she would do in that organization.” More than one head turned to stare at Pensword. For some reason he seemed to be enjoying that thought. “Still, I think Moon River will be spending all day with Daddy.”
Moon River nodded her head. “Mommy carry stuff,” She spoke dismissively.
Lunar Fang just looked at the two. “Daddy is in trouble for something he did.”
“Daddy. I want Daddy!” Moon River responded with a huff.
Pensword glowed at the words. “So, shall we see what they have, and maybe have a little fun on the side, or should we see if they are trying to peddle things as ours?” Pensword smirked as Lunar Fang slapped a wing over her muzzle. “I forgot about that.”
“They actually tried to pass stuff off as belonging to you? Huh. I guess you guys really are celebrities. I wonder if we’ll run into Chumlee and the gang from Pawn Stars while we’re here.”
“I don’t feel like paying three times what something's worth while he refuses to pay as much as ten percent to desperate Ponies,” Grif said with a roll of his eyes.
“With all due respect, Grif, from what I’ve read about Gryphon culture, a lot of Gryphons try to do that on a regular basis.”
“There are rules to haggling, my friend.”
“You’ll have to acquaint me with them some time. As it stands, though, I think Hammer Strike would actually want us to try to spend as much money as possible. Isn’t that right, Hammer Strike?” Vital asked.
“Did someone say they want more money?” Hammer Strike questioned the group. “I spaced out for a moment.”
Grif rolled his eyes, and chuckled. “Lets just get moving. I want to get to the book trader, before Twilight gets anything good.”
“You do realize princesses get first pick, right? They specifically stop by the royal castle first, before coming here. I wouldn’t be surprised if they already went to Twilight’s library to see if she’ want to add anything else to Ponyville’s collection,” Vital pointed out.
“Yes, but they probably saved the good books for Hammer Strike’s private library,” Grif said with a grin.
Vital stopped, opened his mouth to object, then closed it again. “Touché, Grif. Touché”
Pensword turned his head. “So let’s hope we get some good books, and maybe we might end up with a history book or two from Twilight in the future.” He smirked. “So, I am going to be in the antique section, and the toy section, and the tech area. Heck, I think we are going to be looking at everything. What do you say, dear?”
“We may as well take advantage of everything.” Lunar Fang nodded. “I’ve heard that they’ve been experimenting with new flavors of spices and seasonings for meat out on the coast. I wonder if we’ll find some of those here.”
“We’ll have to search together, then,” Vital said. “Clover’s added a secondary list of foreign herbs and spices for her potions. She even went so far as to alphabetize them by category and most likely organization based on descriptions of the salesponies’ personalities she had me gather from the people of Ponyville! I swear, it’s like I’m dealing with another Twilight, only this one’s more assertive and pushy. I love her, and all she has to teach me, but, sometimes, I think she needs to learn to relax a little. Then again, it could be using me like this is amusing to her, and thus relaxing.”
“You should have met Star Swirl.” Grif laughed.
“Already did, remember?” Vital said with a deadpan expression. “I still haven’t forgotten the abuse.”
“Abuse?” Pensword asked in confusion. “What you told me was not abuse. It was more akin to the training I received at the Academy. Abuse back then . . . well, I won’t tell you what it is. It would curl your horn.” He shook his head, while Moon River looked at Vital, and reached out to give him a hug.
“Thanks, Moon River.” Vital Spark smiled as he leaned into her hug, and nuzzled her gently. “You know, it still feels odd using nuzzling as a form of affection. Do you ever really get used to it?”
“After twenty-some years? Yes. Yes, you do,” Grif said
“I grew up using nuzzling as affection, so I’m used to it.” Pensword did a wing shrug. “Still, you got anything you want to get on your own? After all, you need you time, too.”
“You know, I’m not really sure. A good fantasy novel would be nice. Either that, or I could see about writing an actual memoir about humanity. Interviews With a Human. Has a nice ring to it, wouldn’t you say?” He chuckled. “Nah. I’ll just see what I can find. Half the fun is just looking, anyways.”
“That’s the spirit, Vital,” Lunar Fang replied. “Maybe you might find a cute mare to buy something for.”
“Onwards, then, to adventure!” Grif said, posing dramatically, which would have been more inspiring, if not for the two fluffy bundles that had latched onto his crest.
“Grif, I hope you’re ready for all the mothers that are going to assault you to see your daughters,” Vital said with a good-natured chuckle.
“I’ve said my prayer to the South Wind for protection, and sent a large ball of peppermint-flavored chocolate to the great pink spirit of distractions, should I need to call on her.”
“You sly dog. No offense,” Vital said hastily. Much to everyone else’s surprise, no mysterious random creature appeared at the saying. However a familiar canine had appeared on Grif’s back, and proceeded to nuzzle the Gryphon cubs affectionately.
“And that's Winona. Everybody, keep an eye out for Applejack,” Grif noted as they headed into the bazaar.
Grif smiled as he sorted through a large collection of plushies he’d found at one of the stands. They were all hand made of rougher material that the seller claimed to be resistant to talons and beaks. Gentle Wing was currently holding tightly to a stuffed manticore. Athena, however, was proving to be picky, batting away each of the stuffed animals as Grif offered them in turn. Finally, he offered her a stuffed jackalope, and prayed she would claim it.
Athena looked curiously at it for a moment or two. She cocked her head left, then right, then she snatched the stuffed animal, and proceeded to start gnawing on its head.
“Well, I guess that’s decided then,” Grif said, laughing as he looked to the stand’s owner. “How much?”
“Twelve bits for the pair,” he said in a thick Brooklyn accent.
Grif happily dropped the bits on the table. “Pleasure doing buisness with you.”
“Any time. Tell your friends!” he shouted back.
“Oh, I will.” Grif chuckled as he walked away, tickling each of the girls’ chins with the tuft of his tail. He was about to head to the bookstand, when he, for the fifth time that day, felt his crest being tugged towards a stand where a Pony was showing off a series of children's toys that spun or bobbed or walked to clockwork. He looked to his daughters, and sighed as he saw the large puppy dog eyes staring back at him.
“You two are way too good at that,” he sighed, turning towards the stand.
The two siblings cooed in delight as they ran their beaks through their father’s feathers to show their affection.
Hammer Strike was walking through the stalls when the light glinting off the metal of a bare blade caught his eye. He turned to appraise it, seeing an artfully crafted metal pommel reminiscent of the Knights Templar, only this one seemed to focus more on dragons than it did on crosses.
“Hello, my good–.” The trader’s eyes widened as he realized just who he was talking to. “Hello, M’lord,” he said nervously. “Has . . . has something caught your eye?” The Earth Pony moved the formless cap on his head about nervously as he ran the hoof down the side of his muzzle to the red scarf around his neck, before setting the hoof gingerly to the ground. It would seem Hammer Strike’s reputation preceded him.
“This blade here.” Hammer Strike shifted his attention to the trader. “What information do you have on it?”
“Well, the appraisal states it was forged in the last three hundred years. As you can see, it’s been carefully cleaned and polished. The pommel’s red gem design is as recent as of one hundred ten years in its setting. We don’t know what was there before. Other than that, I’m afraid I can’t say much more. The legends behind it are much more interesting. According to the tales, it was forged by a stallion who wished to avenge his family, after they were killed by a dragon. Supposedly, he succeeded, and then went on to slay many more. The legend ranges from two to ten depending on the teller.” He sighed and shrugged. “Normally, I’d use that to bolster the price, but I can’t really lie to you. I don’t believe the stories. And considering the bluntness, it’s more of a decorative piece. I’ll sell it to you for a hundred bits, if you’re interested.”
“Sorry. Decorative blades don’t interest me as much. But perhaps I could do something with it.” Hammer Strike hummed ponderingly. After a moment, he shrugged, and handed the stallion the bits. “Worst thing that happens is that I lose a hundred bits.”
“Thank you, M’lord. I . . . I must say I am happy to finally be rid of that sword.” The Stallion hoofed over the blade with its metal sheath, and heaved a relieved sigh.
“Couldn’t sell it?”
“Yeah. No clue why. I never wanted much, but as soon as I told the legend behind it,” he said in a disgusted tone, “which I am legally bound to do, no one wanted to buy it. It was taking up space I could use for other items. Maybe before I leave I could buy a sword from you to sell somewhere else?”
Hammer Strike hummed as he placed his newest acquisition into his coat, and pulled out a different blade. It wasn’t one of his personal ones, but it would probably do the job. “Perhaps this one.”
“How much do you want for it? Two hundred bits?” he asked. He was practically drooling as he stared at the careful bevelling, the engraving, the silverwork, and the honing on the edge. “I have to pay something for it. Otherwise it would be bad luck, and this baby’s worth at least twice that price.”
“Uh. Fifty?” Hammer Strike offered with a shrug.
“Deal!” The stallion practically punched Hammer Strike with the bag of bits.
“Enjoy.” Hammer Strike shrugged as he walked away.
“Okay, freeze-dried eye of newt, check,” Vital said as he placed another jar into his satchel. “Now I just need to find some frost fronds, and that’ll finish the list.” He couldn’t help but smile in relief as he made his way to a rather roomy purple tent. He pulled its flap aside, only to experience a keen sense of deja vu. A fire burned in the pit at the center, its smoke rising through the hole at the top to prevent the smoke from getting too thick. A series of jars, roots, and herbs littered the space and cluttered the shelves, along with some few baubles here and there. A set of luminous crystals lay in a mortar next to a pestle as a large cat stretched lazily in the sunlight, purring contentedly.
“Solembum?”
‘Naturally,’ the cat’s soundless voice responded. ‘I don’t think there’d be another cat like me here.’
“I thought you two were leaving Equis.”
‘Did we say we’d never come back?’
“Touché. So where’s Angela, then? Or are you tending the shop for now?”
“I’m back here!” the witch spoke up from a work table behind a divider. Vital Spark pulled back the curtain with his magic to see the Pony holding two open-topped jars in front of her, one containing an Equestrian toad, and the other containing a less colorful toad. “Solembum is keeping an eye on things while I figure out if toads exist in Equestria.”
“Isn’t that proof enough right there?” Vital Spark asked with a cocked eyebrow.
“Please.” Angela shook her head, pointing to the less colorful toad. “Anyone can see this is a frog masquerading as a toad.”
“I assume you also talked with it? I’m pretty sure you can do that, if you want to.”
“Oh, you should never assume,” Angela said with a strange smile. “I always stick to educated guesses. Less trouble that way.”
“More chance of chaos, too, but, then again, everybody needs a little chaos in their lives, don’t they?” Vital asked curiously as he looked to the amphibian. “You know, you could always just ask Fluttershy. She’d be able to verify it for certain. She can talk to animals, so she’s probably met her fair share of frogs and toads in her time.”
“Where's the fun in doing anything the easy way?” Angela asked him. “Next you’ll be telling me to pay people to cook my food.”
“That depends. Are you a good cook?” he countered with a playful smirk.
“Well that depends, doesn’t it?” she said.
“Indubitably. But if you don’t mind my asking, I was wondering if you could help me get ahold of some frost fronds for Clover. You are a rather skilled herbalist, after all.”
“Oh, and what’s she up to now?” Angela asked. “I haven’t spoken to her since she finally cut ties with Miss High-and-Mighty herself.”
“You mean Celestia?”
“No.” Angela shook her head. “I meant Platinum, of course. Stupid mare tried to tax me for beauty cream. Can you believe that? Said I was hiding some kind of youth tonic from her.”
“Ah, you’re talking about that Platinum. Well, things have been going pretty well for Clover. She’s helping us out at New Unity now. You should stop by. I’m sure she’d be happy to see you. And besides, it’s fun being able to talk with you.” He winked at her. “Plus, it’d be fun to see Discord’s reaction when you sneak up behind him, if you were to do so, of course.”
“So they finally let that silly serpent out, did they? I sure hope Celestia knows what she’s doing. Still, I might just take you up on visiting Clover, see if she ever proved her theory about newts just being water salamanders.”
“What an intriguing premise. I never thought of it that way before, though I don’t know how sound the theory would be. Sure, they’re slippery enough, but they don’t really manifest any signs of the element when they leave it, while fire salamanders clearly do, but I digress. Would you happen to have some frost fronds handy?”
“You know very well that if it’s an herb, I have it somewhere in here. Come along, and we’ll get you your fronds,” the witch said, leading him to the back of the store, and a greenhouse that most assuredly wasn’t connected to it from the outside.
“Oh, by the way, Angela, would you happen to know how I could hatch a cryophoenix egg?”
Pensword was moving about the stalls to browse the various wares, when he felt a sudden jerk to the left, thanks to a certain young foal, who wanted her daddy to herself. “What is it, dear?” he asked Moon River as he tried to spot what she wanted him to see.
Moon River giggled as she reached a hoof out towards a table. As Pensword looked at the table, he stopped dead in his tracks, then blinked a few times, before grin slowly grew on his muzzle. He immediately approached the stall owner, and the treasure trove of wooden train and track pieces, complete with magnets to lock them together. Once he’d taken stock of the wares, he dropped his face into a completely neutral expression, though his eyes burned with determination and passion as he focused his gaze on the stall owner. “Can you tell me about this train set?” he asked. His tone remained in tight control, even as he casually fluffed his wings in a minor assertion of dominance.
“Certainly,” the owner responded. “It’s a children’s toy. You use these magnets here to connect the rail cars. Their unique round design allows for them to follow any twists and turns the track might make along the way as you build. I also carry a few other small accessories, including switches and display tables for the smaller creations.”
Moon River whimpered, and her lower lip quivered as she reached out towards the train set, and the owner chuckled. “Would you like to try it, little one?”
When Lunar Fang finally caught up with her husband and daughter, she found a saddlebag stuffed full of the wooden railway toy. Meanwhile, the stall keeper stared, bewildered as he looked over a sheaf of order sheets and hastily drawn diagram portraying new additions that Pensword wanted to get for the complete experience.
“Who . . . was that train nut? I just made more bits in one day than I normally do in a single quarter, and then some!”
“Just smile, and nod, my friend,” Bonbon said as she walked by. “Just smile, and nod.”
Grif had been about to sit down to his paperwork, when the horn sounded warning that someone was approaching the gate. He rolled his eyes as he set the papers down on his desk, and made his way outside. He was just in time to see the gates part as a large contingent of armed Gryphons made their way inside. Dagger Feather Scroll stood at the front beside a rather large Gryphon with the body of a tiger and a frill of feathers surrounding his face like a headdress. He bowed gracefully, and his harpy eagle heritage shone proudly as his slick black-and-white feathers shone in the sun. His armor had been well polished and maintained, and he carried a thick gladius at his side. A powerful longbow poked out from the pack on his side, and his emerald eyes pierced through the air as he stared ahead. The experience of many a battle hung behind those eyes, many victories, and many losses. Truly, this could be none other than Graven Graytalon.
In the center of the group, an assembly of lesser armed Gryphons stayed alert, despite their lack of heavier armor and weaponry. Grif assumed this to be Dagger’s family. He smiled welcomingly as he approached the group.
“My friends, I’m glad to see you made it safely. And Graven, once again, you accomplish the task to the letter. Thank you, my friend.”
Dagger nuzzled a fine Gryphoness, who was a cheetah-osprey mix. Three more cubs ranging from four years old to newly born clung to the pair. “Greetings, Clan Leader,” Dagger said as he bowed. “I present my mate, Helen Feather Scroll Bladefeather, and our four cubs, Bloodfeather, Jepsen, Killing Blade, and Jorund. They are all family names.”
“Well, I’m glad to see you all made it here safely. I hope there was no trouble for you?”
“Bloodfeather took care of a tarantula placed to kill us. He has his warrior name now,” Dagger said. “Other then that, it was a calm flight.”
“We had a few daggers in the night, Grif, but we took care of them, before they caused any excitement,” Graven told him. “Whoever was after them didn’t seem to care enough to hire some competent help.”
The cubs’ eyes widened in shock as Dagger ruffled his feathers. “I was hoping to not get the cubs too excited, Graven.”
“Have they had basic training?” Grif asked him.
Helen shook her head. “I lost our first born to intrigue, so we wanted to make sure we were in a secure area, before we tried to train them again. I’d rather not lose any more of my cubs to ‘accidents.’”
“Don’t worry. You're amongst family now,” Grif said, spreading his wings wide. “Your cubs will receive a full education, as well as a basic training, and extensive training in whatever course of trade they choose. This clan doesn’t have castes. I believe our children should choose their own futures.”
The stunned mother bowed her head in gratitude, while Dagger blinked like he’d been blindsided. “We’ll do our best, Sir.” He shuffled. “When do you need me to resume my duties?”
“As soon as you can,” Grif said, “but, first, I suppose I’ll show you to your house.” He smiled as he handed Helen a stack of papers he produced from his bag. “These are promissory notes good for any bank in Equestria. You can use them to get anything additional you might need. Meals are served in the family kitchen at eight, noon, and six. If you’d like to cook for yourself, we can arrange the proper amenities.”
They all nodded numbly, before following towards their new home, unsure of what they would do, or what type of home they would have. The cubs laughed as each played and rushed around between the adults’ legs. Grif chuckled good-naturedly as Dagger and Helen did their best to keep them under control, while dealing with carrying the youngest cub.
Grif finally stopped before one of the main houses in the complex. Thanks to foresight, he’d had extra housing built in, in case more influx should happen. It was neither finer nor uglier than his own home, just a simple two stories with six bedrooms, a large family room, and an adjoining room that could become a kitchen for those who wished for it to be. It also included a small study on the first floor with a large fireplace. “This is it,” Grif said, turning to them with the key.
While the wife and cubs entered the rooms, Dagger shook his head in amazement. “This is the largest home we’ve ever had. Thank you,” he said. Tears stood in his eyes as he bowed deeply.
“Every member of my family has a house no lesser than my own. I’ve seen enough of the large mansions and strongholds of our homelands to know what that idea breeds. I may be the clan leader, but I’m no better than you are here. Every Gryphon proves his or her worth through actions alone. The only obligations I put to you is, should the need arise, that you lift your weapon beside us. I hope our clan will set a standard for how we should treat each other in the future.”
“Rest assured, you have my arm,” Dagger replied
“Now get some sleep, and a meal. If you require anything before you leave on your journey: weapons, armor, travel fees, visas, etc., the quartermaster will assist you, but please be sparing. At some point, we may need the excess. It saved us a lot of strife in the last attack.” Grif clapped Dagger’s back gently. “Fly well, live well, and expand, my friend. There is plenty of room in this compound for more.” With those last words, he turned to leave.
Dagger blushed. “I have a feeling that will happen by daylight tomorrow. As for what I need, I’ll report to the quartermaster in the morning.”
Pensword worked at his desk. He was hoping to have his uncles, or mom, dad, brother. Heck, he would even welcomed Jorund Bloodfeather screeching at him. It was just too quiet. He needed someone to help get his mind off all the stress. He looked up from the block of wood he’d been whittling. The boxes of paperwork had been sorted and finished. Now it was just a matter of waiting for Luna to return the bill with any further feedback, comments, and on his suggestions for the Bill. The suspense was killing him.
“Commander?” Preston’s voice called through the door as his hoof tapped gently against it.
“Yes Preston? What is it?” He paused as he recognized the tone, and the knock, and groaned inwardly. “Who’s out there?”
“There’s a large group of nobles arriving from canterlot. They wish to speak with you.”
“With me? Not with Hammer Strike? Not with Grif? You’re sure?” Pensword asked He could hardly believe it. Usually, he was a secondary objective in their plans.
“They wish to meet you alone, in the gatehouse, Sir.”
Pensword placed a pondering hoof to his chin. “Very well, but have the Demon Slayers on standby. If something goes wrong, have them storm the gatehouse. Tell them I will be there in thirty minutes.”
“Of course, Commander,” Preston said. The clop of his hooves faded gradually as the Changeling made his way out the office, and towards the barracks.
“Right.” Pensword sighed as he laid the chunk of wood in a desk drawer with his carving knife, before making his way to his armor rack. He donned his armor, and emblems of his office, before marching towards the gatehouse. Occasionally, he would receive a salute from various troops as he passed down the halls, and finally strode into the courtyard.
He took a moment to compose himself for the inevitable unpleasantries to follow, then strode to the gatehouse, and opened the door. The scene was rather ludicrous when comparing the simple wooden furnishings to the much more lavish garb that practically blinded him.
The nobles had dressed in their finest silk garments, varying from suits to vests to dresses, each as grandiose and elegant as they could manage with their means. What really shocked Pensword, however, were exactly who stood with these nobles.
“What?” Pensword asked, taken aback as he stared at what, for all intents and purposes, appeared to be a series of Thestral foals either peeking out from beneath the nobles’ legs, or staring out from hiding places among the bookcase and under the beds. Others’ tails trembled cutely from behind the gate’s mechanism. Some few even hung from the light fixtures. “Can somepony please tell me why we have a herd of foals playing hide and seek in my gatehouse?”
A very tired-looking pegasus cleared his throat. He was slightly taller than Pensword, though not nearly so well built. His coat was a dark grey that was interchangeably splotched with bronze. His mane was short cut, and a faded blue color. He wore a tailored green suit that covered his flank, so Pensword couldn’t see his cutie mark. “If we could talk alone for a moment, Commander?” the stranger asked. His tone was neither friendly nor condescending. Indeed, it seemed almost respectful, apologetic, even.
Pensword looked at the foals, and twitched an ear. “I am sorry, but the foals have invaded every inch of this building.” He took a breath in, and then let it out. “However, I think the cellar will likely still be secure for us to use. Please, follow me.”
The stallion nodded, and followed behind as they carefully made their way through the crowd, and down a set of stairs. Pensword had taken a single candle from a sconce nearby. The pegasus was kind enough to light the wick with the flint and tinder next to it. Now sufficiently armed against the darkness, the pair made their way down into the depths, leaving the other nobles to tend to the foals. The trapdoor soon closed behind them, and the clomp of hooves over the top assured Pensword that the guards on duty were making sure the pair would not be disturbed. As soon as the pair had found a comfortable place to sit down, the old pegasus sighed.
“To begin, my name is Weight and Measure. On behalf of myself, and the others, I apologize for this intrusion, and the secrecy.”
“An apology from a Canterlot noble?” Pensword raised a curious eyebrow. “What a novelty. I must hear more of this. It seems quite clear to me that you are not like most nobles I have met in the Solar Court.” He laid the candle down on a dusty table, and sat, before motioning to the other side, where an old wooden chair waited. “Please, sit, and tell me what brings you here.”
Weight and Measure sighed as he plopped himself onto the chair, not even bothering to remove the dirt and dust. “Well, my family’s nobility is only token, due to our rather . . . unique duties,” the old stallion explained. “As you're aware, the ancient Pegasi were very strict about monitoring breeding, in order to produce optimal soldier stock. In a perversion of that ideal, the nobility has also set themselves to upholding the ‘pure stock.’”
Pensword nodded his understanding. “Your family maintains the books and genealogy of the Solar Courts, I presume. Making sure that only those of the right blood marry into their correct station, and none below or above.”
Weight and Measure sighed again. “And, unfortunately, we are also the ones who have to deal with the unending problems that come from the lords and ladies who can’t avoid being,” he cleared his throat, “improper with their own staff, which brings us to why a large group of nobles have appeared to you today with a virtual herd of foals.”
“Judging by your initial introduction, I am going to assume that all of those children are either illegitimate, or that they show the blood of, as some of your superiors so eloquently put it, past skeletons? What are they hoping I can do, wave a wand, and make them vanish into the shadows? Take them in? Find homes for them?” He frowned. “Or were they thinking of something less pleasant?”
Weigh and Measure slumped. “You see the headache I’ve been having to deal with, then. They believe that they can simply dump the problem on your people, that the Lunar Court will be grateful for an injection of ‘real noble blood.’ I assure you, Commander, I have tried my very best to explain how offensive that sounds, how obscene this notion is, and what the princesses will likely do to all of us when they hear of this, and I have no illusions they won’t.” He raised his hooves in a helpless shrug. “Unfortunately, my words fall on deaf ears.”
Pensword was silent for a time as he drew his hoof across the table in thought. “If all that you have said is true, and you did your utmost to protest this action, then I can promise that your house will not suffer.” He paused as he rubbed the base of his muzzle with a hoof. “I may be willing to have these foals brought to the council for proper upbringing, but your employers must understand. If they give these children to us, then we will raise them as proper Thestrals. That also means they will have to accept that they have claims to the same titles their siblings have, whether they’re bastards or not. If a Thestral stallion or mare has an indiscretion, all foals have equal claim their their parent’s legacy. And, in fact, it is frowned upon for a Thestral to abandon foals they have brought into this world. Family is very important to us. Make sure to warn your employers. If they proceed down this road, the Solar Courts will be looked down upon by the Lunar Court for the next two generations at the very least.”
“My house has spent a thousand years making foals like these vanish from the records, Commander, and received high bribes for their work, weights, and measures, Commander.” He moved his suit to reveal his cutie mark, a scale. “It is the way of justice. Even now, my corruption is evident in the fact that I agreed to keep this notion from the princesses. I don’t come to you for amnesty, commander. I come, because I fear for the lives currently playing hide and seek above our heads, if I refused.”
“And for that, I am offering my help. You are doing this for something far more precious than class or title could ever give. I will make sure if you do fall, a bed of clouds will catch you.” Pensword’s face stormed like a thundercloud. “As for the nobles above our heads, no such promise will be given to them. Celestia and Luna both will judge this night with fairness.” He sighed, and rubbed a tired hoof over his forehead. “I shall make accommodations for you, and our guests. It won’t be till tomorrow night at the earliest that we can meet with the council.”
“You should know there have been . . . variations amongst the foals of Thestral blood. They aren’t common, but you will notice them eventually: Unicorns with horns that are finned outwardly, instead of spiraling, Earth Ponies whose only notable trait are their eyes, that sort of thing.”
“What about these?” Pensword asked, smiling as he showed his fangs. “Believe you me, I understand better than most about the gift and curse of being a hybrid, Mister Measure. Unlike other nobles, we will still count them as full-blooded equals.”
A slim smile pulled at the corners of Weight and Measure’s lips. “If I may make one small request, Commander?”
Pensword waved a wing to show he could continue forward.
“Amongst the nobles here today are Duke Spiced Eggplant, and the Countessa Gem Setting. They are not here for reasons of vanity or fear for loss of reputation. The duke’s wife is notably hostile towards the Thestral staff, and he fears his daughter would not reach maturity in his house. The countessa worries more for the fact that the count enjoys his wine, and while he has never struck her personally, she couldn’t live with herself, if her twins were to be near him in one of his moods, and received undue punishment. Many nobles love those children, Commander, and I would dare to believe that at least some of that love is unfeigned, even if they were too frightened to make the trip themselves.”
Pensword’s expression was grave, and the shadows cast by the candlelight played over his face, warping his features to look practically skullish. “I will do what I can, but I promise nothing. It is up to the Thestral Council to decide, which means that Princess Luna will know, and it will be up to her when to tell her sister.”
Weight and Measure nodded. “That's all I can ask. I’ll see to getting these foals set up somewhere for the night. I have no doubt most of these nobles will not be willing to take them back to Canterlot with them.”
“Oh, the nobles will be staying tonight as well, with their foals, in the same suites. If they wish to go through me, they will follow my rules. And any who try to leave beforehoof can take their foals back with them.”
Weight and Measure gulped. “I’ll make sure they understand.” He nodded as he offered his wingtip to Pensword, an old gesture in Pegasus culture, but a meaningful one.
Pensword moved his dominant wing out, and touched his wingtip to the other stallion’s wing tip. No words were spoken, but much was exchanged in that one gesture. Then the two rose, and made their way back to the entrance with candle in wing.
Vital Spark smiled as the violin thrummed its fiddling song. Each note that jumped into his head seemed to automatically play as though the instrument were an extension of his very mind. He laughed as he did his best to break into a jig. The results were less than exemplary, though when he started stomping his hooves and picturing the river dancers from Ireland, something sort of clicked, and suddenly he was dancing with a partner, clacking his hooves in a song as old as the roots of the earth beneath the great rocks at Stonehenge. When the song wound to an end, he found himself out of breath as the images faded. The beautiful face of the fiery-haired maiden dissipated to be replaced with a rather flat-faced Clover. Vital Spark drew back in surprise, and immediately blushed.
“Clover! I, uh . . . didn’t expect you to be visiting so soon. To what do I owe the pleasure?” He chuckled nervously as he levitated the instrument back to its case.
“I see the music-based phenomenon is still happening,” she noted.
“Yeah, it actually has to do with my other side. The carvings along its edging are old runes of power from the human world. They synchronized with my blood, since my human side is descended from the same region.”
“Interesting that they still had meaning and power after magic stopped working in your world,” she noted.
“It’s possible that they simply required enough mana to become active again. From what I understand, the weapon these carvings were inspired by was meant to be wielded only under certain conditions, but if those conditions were met, almost nothing could stop it.”
“That's very advanced enchantment I don’t think even the alicorns were able to do very easily,” she noted as she examined the runes on the violin.
“Well, according to legend, the weapon was crafted from the bones of a sea monster, and imbued with power from the old Celtic gods. Ponies are pretty limited, but I’m guessing gods aren’t as much.”
Something about that comment made Clover shiver. “No. I suppose they’re not. So, are you still in denial of your attraction to Sunset Shimmer?”
Vital Spark whipped his head back from his violin. “Shifu say what now?”
“The mare turned human, Sunset Shimmer. Celestia’s former pupil? It seems quite an interesting combination. She, a mare turned human woman, with an affinity for fire, and you, a human male turned stallion, with an affinity for ice.”
Vital Spark gaped. “Okay, I never thought of it that way before,” he said, then promptly recovered. “There’s still no way I can like her yet, though. I mean, maybe as a friend, if she changes, but I’m not the kind of guy who just jumps right into a relationship, Clover,” he said pointedly, even as his cheeks flushed.
“You seem to be under the impression you have a choice when it comes to attraction. A relationship is another matter altogether.”
“In my book, the two often come down to the same thing.”
“I disagree. I have been attracted to many stallions in my life, but I am not known as Clover Giantslayer the Clever, am I?”
“Uh . . . how does that apply here?” Vital asked as he rubbed his head confusedly.
“Attraction, my very young apprentice, is an automated reaction caused by chemicals in the brain in response to a Pony we find physically appealing. As any scholar knows, the eyes can be rather dumb, but they have an amazing skill at persuading the brain.”
“True enough, but the truth is, I don’t really care so much about looks. Maybe a little. I mean, sure, looks are nice, but I care more about a person’s personality, and . . .” He sighed as he trailed off. “Okay, I guess I have to deal with attraction the same way everypony else does, and Sunset was cute. She kissed me, and now when people mention the possibility of attraction or a crush, I blush. Are you happy now?”
“I just made fifteen hundred bits,” Clover said. “So, yes, I’m in a pretty good mood.”
Vital sighed. “How many?”
“. . . Yes,” Clover said.
“Don’t you Ponies have something better to do than bet on somepony else’s feelings?”
“Our culture has a magic that makes random Ponies break into song, and guides all those around them to dance and sing in perfect accompaniment. Would it really surprise you, if I said no?”
“YES!”
“And here I thought you were learning.” Clover gave an exaggerated sigh, and shook her head.
“You know, there are some things that are universal about these kinds of situations that I really wish weren’t right now,” Vital Spark grumbled. “I suppose you’re here to talk about a magical surge you detected in the Everfree earlier this week, too?”
“I thought you’d discuss it when you were comfortable,” she said as she took a seat in one of the spare guest chairs that had been added to Vital Spark’s room.
“Considering it’s linked pretty much directly to the info I got on my violin, it sort of goes hand in hand, or hoof in hoof, I suppose the saying goes here.” He sighed, and braced himself. “Basically, I invoked the spirit of Gaia.”
“The Zebra deity?”
“Wait, she’s the Zebra deity here?”
“She’s the only deity, currently, who measures on a scale comparative to Sleipnir or Faust. Supposedly, she, and some of her children, appeared to the Zebras in the back-when time, as they call it.”
“On my world, she was the mother of a powerful race of god-like beings called the titans. She was literally the embodiment of the world, and all life on it. I suppose she still is, now that I think about it. Oy.” He took a deep breath, then let it out. “I know she simplified talking to her face to face, well, vessel to face, but it’s still kinda overwhelming to think about.”
“You talk to one god, you talk to them all,” Clover said nonchalantly.
“Doesn’t change the fact it’s kind of impressive, when you consider the plane of existence they’re on compared to us.”
“Speaking of deities, have you asked Grif about getting an audience with his yet?”
“You mean with the Bird of Paradise? I asked him about it. He said the only way she might be able to manifest nearby to ask about the egg would be at Hammer Strike’s wedding. It takes a powerful union of love to draw her. Though, for the record, she’s not exactly a deity. Her mother, the South Wind, is.”
“She’s as close as you're about to get at the moment, I would think.”
“To get the answer for how to hatch the eggs of one of her children? Yes, I think you’re right. I’m going to have to see if I can get a proper gift to exchange for the information, as well.”
“Perhaps a song?” Clovered offered.
Vital Spark chuckled. “You know, there’s an old saying back on my planet. ‘The song of the righteous is a prayer unto me.’ I always switch that to the song of the heart, instead, since that’s where the music always comes from.”
“Your people have a lot of sayings,” Clover noted.
“Well, we’ve been around for a long time. Of course there’s going to be a lot of old sayings.” Vital Spark chuckled again. “I guess we’ll just have to see how it goes when we get to that point. In the meanwhile, I’m going to go out on a limb, and assume that thick tome you’ve got hidden with a spacial distortion spell in that satchel is for me?”
“No, but good guess. That’s a modern thesis on transmagical property distillation by a leading mage. I’m going to be looking through it, and noting corrections, which I will then presume to magically send, and staple to her door. The tome that’s been masquerading as a potted plant less than a hoof’s length away from you is for you, however.”
“Oh. I wondered why it had the nametag Potty, the Potted Plant on it. That would explain it.” He ignited his horn, and directed it at said plant. In a flash of light, a frost-covered book appeared in its stead. “Heh. Looks like I still need to work on keeping the ice out of things, but at least it’s not frozen in a solid block this time.”
“You’ll get the hang of it, eventually.” Clover shrugged. “Not like a little frost bite hurt anyone.”
“No. It just killed their nerves, and made them need amputation,” he said casually as he cracked open the tome. “. . . The Art of Magical Divination, by Professor Sybil Trelhawney?”
“She is, admittedly, the closest thing I could find to a proper divination expert.” Clover sighed. “If only she wasn’t so grim.”
“Let me guess. She sees ill portents in just about everything, and often acts overly dramatic to put on an air of mystique?”
“Yes.” Clover rolled her eyes. “More so than most mages these days. When did it become so popular to be a drama queen with magic? Half these mages today make Platinum look bland by comparison.”
“And I’m sure she must have rolled over in her grave the moment those words left your mouth.” Vital Spark chuckled. “So where did you want me to start? The art of reading tea leaves?”
“Horse apples,” Clover said, “and so is the whole ‘astrology’ thing. Start with the chapter on fetlock and hoof reading, and we’ll work from there.”
“You know, I think, if I ever find a centaur living on my world, I’ll send him or her your way. You two would have a very interesting conversation.”
“I’d rather you didn't,” Clover said
“How come? They’re usually rather nice, and honorable, provided you treat them with the proper respect.”
“I’ve met enough centaurs for one lifetime.”
“There are centaurs in this world?”
“Thats enough on the subject,” Clover said briskly. “You get started on your reading.”
“You only do that when I’m getting close to something important. You realize that, right?”
A bolt of lighting proceeded to go between his legs, and strike the ground behind him.
“And, clearly, you do.” Vital Spark proceeded to rise up on his hind legs to check his coat, among other things. “For the record, I wasn’t going to pry further,” he said as he let out a sigh of relief. Nothing had been damaged, though a few hairs had been singed. “I was just making note of a tendency. And, wow, I must be getting far too used to near-death experiences.” His horn glowed, and Vital’s focus flew to join him. “If you’ll excuse me, Watcher and I have a sparring session with Grif in a few minutes.”
Grif sat before his desk. The doors were locked, and the blinds were shut. The dampening crystal had been activated, so no one could eavesdrop on him as he tapped the communication button, and the three green crystals rose into place. The three faces of Sisko, Bond, and Poindexter appeared immediately before him. The changelings appeared tired, but at attention.
“Commander Poindexter, how are things going? I understand that a mysterious group of Ponies were on the scene when an earthquake struck a small village a few miles west of Manehattan?”
“That is correct. I’m sending you some newspaper clippings summarizing the events,” the Changeling replied with pride in his voice.
“Report?”
“Supplies are good. Good Heart created a food drive and charity drives to get the Ponies involved, and to help stretch our budget further. Expenses were higher than normal with the tax increase soon after settling into Manehattan, as well as being forced to take a certain ‘insurance’ in the neighborhood. That particular financial report will be on your desk in the morning. Morale is good, and we’re happy to report we’ve had at least six letters from normal Ponies applying to work in our cover business, though it appears at least three wish to join us more for the purpose of getting fed.”
“No attempts at infiltration or foreign Changelings to report?”
“No foreign Changeling attempts. Infiltration has remained within acceptable parameters. We had a break-in, but they got the documents we had planted, so no foul came of it. We also superseded two listening bugs. I think we’re caught between the police and some organized syndicate here. There have been no battles yet, though we did have a pie fight two blocks down the road yesterday.”
“You have a year's supply of apple family pies, and drones cleared to use them. Don’t be afraid to, if necessary. Terrific work, Poindexter. Have it spread around your branch that Ace and the Queen are pleased.” He gave a small salute, which was probably little more than a talon wave with his form darkened as it was. He turned to Sisko. “I understand a mysterious info drop appeared in the Vanhoover guard barracks yesterday in regards to an illegal salts operation in the area?”
“That is correct. They were able to get some of the lower ranking folks, but the higher-ups fled the scene, and are underground as we speak.” Sisko’s baritone voice almost melted through the channel. “Still, this strike counts as a major blow for that group. We now know the gender of the head operator for Vanhoover, a mare. Unfortunately, we know nothing else as of yet. We did lose three Changelings right before the raid, so they must have had some information. We lost good links, but we are not severed. Vanhoover will become a clean city within three years’ time, even if I have to wage war personally.”
“And in the other branches? Have you managed to locate similar operations?”
“A cider operation covering bit forgery in the north. The Royal Guard did a raid this morning. Once again, something tipped them off. We were able to tip off the Guard that they might be using forged signets from the Solar Court. We did sneak our own marks as Lunar Court marks to trace them. We got no ponies, but a lot of equipment was retrieved from that raid. We also took down an underground Unicorn supremacy group in Seaddle. They’re being held for questioning, but most of them will be let go, and put into community service projects. We’re also working on infiltrating some activities in Las Pegasus. A few of the businesses are being leaned on.”
“I want a team dispatched for Manehattan as well. See if you can find Poindexter’s friends, and get Bond a list of names he can get started with. I believe the serial killer known as ‘The Judge’ used to roam that area, and was never caught, so I think we can fit someone in there to act as a copycat, and keep the guard guessing. Any infiltrator issues?”
“We have four infiltrators from a hive not of Chrysalis's brood, meaning there is an unknown hive operating. This brings the known hives to three. We just don’t have a face for this unknown queen. We do have a few guesses as to her disguise here in the city, and those are on their way in locked chests for you to do with as you wish. None of these new ones survived our interrogation. Hopefully, the queen will think that Ponies have found her out, and not another hive.”
“Were they hostile outright?”
“We are . . . unsure. to our understanding, yes, they were hostile, but we don’t know if this is a greeting for that hive or not. They tried to hypnotize one of our staff, and to gain access to GRASP. We found diagrams for replacing the aid workers, most likely to get emotions, or create something. Most of the information was very specific on what each infiltrator was to do, so we only know they were to infiltrate aid programs to set up identities, by force, if necessary.”
“Try to see if you can get a parley with their queen through proxy. We shouldn’t make enemies, until we’re sure enemies need to be made,” Grif said. He saluted again, and turned to the last face. “So, Bond, I understand Booze ‘Small Hooves’ Hound was found at the bottom of the lake in a set of cement horseshoes. An ironic death for such a Pony, wouldn’t you agree?”
“Well, you know Las Pegasus,” Bond as he leaned back in his chair. “Everything can turn on you with the flip of a coin or a card.”
“So, report?”
“We’ve eliminated thirteen well-known mobsters in the last week, five of which were here in Las Pegasus, two in Trottingham, and the rest, unsurprisingly, were in the Canterlot slums. We have the names and locations for several other criminals pending, and are waiting on Sisko’s report, before moving forward with the malcontents. My people have begun getting rather creative on how to deal with these thugs. Q even put together this device made with springs and wound-up razor wire. You just plant it in the target’s path, and they’re ripped to pieces.”
“Brutal, but it sounds effective.” Grif nodded his approval. “And infiltrations?”
“One or two, maybe, but none that made it past the lobby. You’ll get a report by morning.”
“Very good, commanders. I hope to see the three of you continue to run at peak efficiency. Contact me through the usual channels, if something comes up, and I’ll see you in a month. And remember, we’ll be watching.” With that said, Grif pressed the button to sever the desk’s connection to the hive mind.
Pensword stood in an empty vault, deep under the ground beneath the castle. The area had been well lit with torches, and a series of storage bins and carts had been left down there with the materials he would require to practice with. After making certain everything was in order, he ordered his troops to make a full retreat, and settled onto a cushion.
With his preparations complete, he closed his eyes, and cast his hearing and new thaumic sense around him. He groaned inwardly as he sensed the two Changeling drones that stood outside the door. Clearly, Me-Me wasn’t comfortable leaving him alone. He couldn’t help but smile at that. At least he could say he’d made a meaningful friendship with the hive. He settled deeper into the cushion, and cast his mind back to his lessons with Hammer Strike.
“Go, and practice making some of these on your own. Use only the base attributes that you have an affinity with. You’re not ready for more yet,” he’d said.
The words still stung as Pensword recalled the hurt and disappointment he’d caused by shunning these lessons for so long, but he had made progress, and that was enough for now. He would do anything to get back what he had lost, and with that in mind, he set to work. He found that tingling spot in his mind’s eye, and slowly began to draw from the air, the aspect he could sense most readily in the room. He held his wing outstretched with its tips curled to ensure he wouldn’t exceed the proper size. To make a crystal too large could prove too much for his field at this stage, let alone what might happen should the crystal shatter on the ground. He took a calming breath, then concentrated the new energy into the air above his wing, and, slowly, a tiny whirlwind began to form as yellow particles of light gathered together, and coalesced.
Pensword worked for the next hour gathering a small pile of air and water aspects around him. The barrels of water he’d had delivered were much lower, and the air had grown significantly thinner. He twitched an ear as he both felt and heard a Pony approaching the door. He slowly rose, and his joints snapped and popped as he stretched out his limbs, before moving to open the door to look muzzle to muzzle with Hammer Strike. “Oh. Hello,” he said, a little surprised. “Come to pick up the crystals? I sensed you coming this way earlier, but I thought you might have had other business down here. Does this visit mean anything?”
“Considering the aspects I put off, not so much, but it’s a step in the right direction that you can actually see and/or feel them now,” Hammer Strike replied. “And yes, I’m here to deal with the aftermath of practice.”
“Come on in.” Pensword motioned to the room, which, while its condition had been altered by the experimentation, was still no worse for wear. “I hope I did well in here.”
Hammer Strike looked casually over the room. As usual, no emotion passed over his face. “I can’t stay for long. I have to return to practice with Luna.” He shook his head. “I’ll just collect the aspect crystals for now.”
“They are over there, in the sack. I took the precaution of padding and packing them to prevent any risk of damage or destruction.” He stretched again. “Speaking of other appointments, I have to get back to my office to take care of some things, as well.”
Hammer Strike simply took the sack, and placed it into his coat. “Then I’ll leave you to that. Have fun.”
Pensword made a face. “Yeah, fun.” He deadpanned as he thought back to the Nobles, and the headache he’d have sorting out what to do with the foals during the day.
It had taken days, hundreds of destroyed rapiers, and almost a ton of metal that now littered the ground in tiny bits and pieces, but it seemed Luna had finally grasped the true intricacies of the rapier as she and Hammer Strike clashed again and. Blades clanged, and sparks flew as the two locked and broke in rapid succession. It was like watching the waves in the ocean during a tempest as the two forces flowed against one another. The ground scored and scorched around them as strikes were made and deflected or parried faster than the eye could comprehend.
Luna slid back, panting, with rapier still locked in her magic. “I think I’ve finally gotten the hang of this frog sticker,” she chuckled.
“Go against Grif some time. If you can keep speed with him, then you’ll be considered better than ‘good.’”
“Should I keep the fact that you said that between us?” Luna asked, grinning.
“Nah. I fully admit he’s better with a rapier than I am. Much better. Heavy weapons are more my thing.” Hammer Strike chuckled.
“Perhaps I’ll have to test him myself sometime, then.” Luna laughed again. “So, does this mean we’re finished?”
“Yeah. We are.” Hammer Strike nodded. “This time, at least. Next time, I’ll have to come up with something . . . much worse.”
Luna gave an involuntary shudder as she caught Hammer Strike’s smile.
“For now, though, you’re done.” Hammer Strike sighed. “I’m going to go back to work on my larger blades after this.”
“And I need to see about getting myself presentable. Pensword is seeking an audience with me, and it’s about time I relieved the dream walkers that have been taking my shifts.”
Hammer Strike nodded. “Okay. See ya.” He shrugged as he made his way towards the castle. “You know where to find me, if you need me.”
Pensword stood at the quarters that housed his High Chieftess. Four guards stood at the doors, barring entry to any that might seek audience. He gave them a brief nod, then knocked. A few moments later, he was allowed to enter. Luna lay reclining on a couch draped with a bear skin. A wine glass had been tinged blue in her magical aura, and a bright silver liquid mulled gently as she swirled the contents, and sipped casually. “Welcome, Pensword,” she said.
“High Chieftess,” Pensword said with a nod. “How has your training been? I am sorry I wasn’t able to watch as often as I should.”
“It is ended, Pensword, and I hope I never have to experience such things again.” She shuddered.
“Then I shall hope so as well,” Pensword replied. “But now I must approach the matter at hoof, and I am sorry to say it is a grave one. I request that the council meet as soon as possible, preferably tonight. We have . . . a situation.”
“I need something to tell the council, Pensword, if I am to have any hopes of successfully calling them together so swiftly. What is this issue?” Luna asked.
“Members of the Solar Court are currently staying within New Unity’s walls, and–.” He hesitated as he tried to fix the words properly. He didn’t wish to draw the ire of the princess, but she had to know the truth. Finally, seeing no way around it, he let out a heavy sigh. “They are here to give away their children, Chieftess, those that look more Thestral than ‘noble.’ It is their aim to have us raise them in the Lunar Court, most likely as a means of . . . civilizing us, while seeking to erase any potentially embarrassing discoveries.”
Luna’s face had already begun to turn red, and Pensword was swift to raise a halting wing.
“I know this is difficult, Luna, but these children might not have anywhere else to go. The stallion in charge of the party has informed me that several of them are in grave danger, should they remain in their homes. This is a unique opportunity to teach the next generation of the Solar Court our culture and ways, like a lost tribe. I told him we would meet, but I had conditions to not be budged on. Those conditions are as follows. First, if they give these children to us, then we will raise them as proper Thestrals. I also said they will have to accept that the foals have claims to the same titles their siblings have, no matter how much like a Thestral they look, or the nature of their parentage. Also, the stallion, Weight and Measure, should be protected from any and all political or physical retribution. He is honestly doing all in his power to protect the foals. I offered him my personal protection, if it comes down to it.”
Luna’s eyes flashed as she slowly lowered the glass to the floor, and steepled her hooves in thought. After a long period of silence, she finally spoke. “You did well, Pensword. I’m sure the Council will agree with your judgement. It saddens me that my sister’s court has become so biased that it has come to this, but we will make it our strength. Assuming the council agrees, we can then inform my sister and the other princesses on the matter. I am certain that they will not take kindly to such untoward behavior.”
“I understand,” Pensword said. His wings fluffed out in pride as he bathed in the afterglow of Luna’s praise. “If you need a Pony to stand as an example, I shall talk to Lunar Fang about adopting a brother or sister, so Moon River can start, as the Solar Court would call it, corrupting them.” His grin was practically savage as his fangs glinted in the light. He could just picture the nobles’ faces as they came to visit their illegitimate offspring after a year of Thestral upbringing.
“Of course, we should see if the other clans will be willing to take some of the foals as well. We cannot risk swamping New Unity with this sudden population boom.”
“Even if Moon River and the older Thestral foals will be over your moon with the thought of creating something like Mommy and Daddy’s units,” Pensword responded with a smirk.
“I thought she had already recruited a Gryphon and a Unicorn into her troops. It would be good for her to experience commanding multiple troops of different species.”
Pensword beamed with pride at those words. “I agree. She would make a great future military leader in the Crystal Empire.” He frowned for a brief moment. “It is still strange to my human side that I have an arranged marriage set up for our daughter.”
“So what is keeping you up all day, and all night, and all night, and all day, Commander? I have not seen you amongst the dreamers in some time.”
Pensword’s expression fell. “Trouble,” he answered. “You know that strange power that Hammer Strike has, the one that is magic and not magic? Well,” he hesitated, “I came to his world with it as well, but . . . I neglected it, and because of that neglect, I have lost one of my most precious gifts.” He felt the sting of tears starting to form in his eyes, and did his best to force them back. “Until I get it back, I cannot return to sleeping with my mates and daughter.” His face was filled with determination, as though he were expecting some form of attack. “When I can speak with the spirits again, I will return to my family, and I can sleep more than the dreamless naps I have been getting.”
“You miss being able to speak with them.” Luna nodded sympathetically. “I can understand that.”
The determination melted into shock. She hadn’t shown a single sign of anger. “Yes, I–I do miss them, and . . . thank you. I must say I still feel honored, and humbled, at your wish for Lunar Fang and I to call you just Luna in private.” He took a deep breath. “How do your quarters and our attempts at reviving New Unity measure up in your eyes?” He asked suddenly. “Also, will tomorrow or the day after be good to meet to plan for the Bill?”
“If you promise to get some actual rest, I will meet you in the afternoon.” Luna smiled kindly at him.
“I plan on getting some sleep after my meeting with you, before the meeting with the nobles and the council tonight,” Pensword answered.
“Good. I well convene with the chiefs while you rest, and then we shall make arrangements.”
Pensword nodded, before dipping his head, and flaring his wings in a Thestral bow. High Chieftess Luna responded with a dignified dip of her head. With business concluded, and formalities past, Pensword rose, and left Luna’s quarters, heading to his office to get some proper sleep, as ordered.
“So that’s the long of the short of it, Trixie,” Vital Spark said as the two smashed their foci together in a battle of magical will.
“Is that so? Trixie is intrigued, though she really wishes you’d stop taking such risks with Clover.”
Vital Spark winced. “It wasn’t that bad.”
“Vital Spark, you fainted out of shock, just before sparring practice.” Trixie’s practice focus snapped round, and Vital Spark was quick to counter with a cross block.
“She wouldn’t really do anything to me, though, right? I mean, she knows I’m not the kind of person who’d push past that line,” he said as he flicked the lower end of his staff to try to knock Trixie’s focus aside, and give him the precious time he’d need to break one of her protective shields.
“Vital Spark.” Trixie sighed. “This is Clover the Clever we’re talking about. She may favor you as a student, but that doesn’t mean she won’t punish you, if you go too far. Star Swirl used to do the same to her all the time. I remember reading, one time, about how he’d thrown her into a lair of manticores to fight her way out. She was supposed to be gathering their venom for study, or at least that was the official excuse,” she said.
“You’re kidding.” Vital Spark gaped, and Trixie smirked as she found her opening, and smashed his second shield.
“Maybe, maybe not, but Trixie isn’t about to tell you, now is she?”
“This wouldn’t happen to have anything to do with losing a substantial amount of bits to a certain betting pool, would it?” Vital asked. Seconds later, two of Trixie’s shields had been broken by Watcher, and the pair were even again.
“That was a dirty trick,” Trixie seethed.
“So was trying to scare me to throw off my concentration.”
“. . . Touché,” Trixie admitted.
“Dirty tricks make up combat,” Grif’s voice butted in as he approached them, while others continued to spar behind him. “When it’s life or death, nothing should be off the table. Remember that.”
“Say, Grif, I have a question,” Vital said as he twirled his staff in his magic to create a pinwheel of sorts. The force of the two foci’s impact was enough to send a minor magical shockwave through the air towards the combattants’ shields, even as Vital struggled to force Trixie’s focus down, while Trixie stubbornly held it in place.
“And I might have an answer,” Grif said.
“What about if both promised to follow a mutual code of honor in the battle? I’m not saying you shouldn’t be prepared,” he said pointedly as he casually threw Watcher like a kunai at Trixie’s shield. “I’m just wondering what then,” he said, even as Trixie’s focus came flying at his face.
“That, my friend, is a duel, and that's an entirely different matter.” Grif laughed. “And it’s likely you’ll have to ask a mage about a mage's duel.”
The two shields shattered almost simultaneously, leaving both Ponies exposed.
“Good match, Trixie,” Vital said. “Thanks for going easy on me.”
“No problem. It’s good practice for keeping my power under control. That, and I like seeing the look on your face when you’re about to lose.”
“Oh really?” Vital Spark smirked. “I’d like to see you put your money where your mouth is. Why not join me in the Running of the Leaves?”
“Trying to make sure you don’t end up in thirteenth place?” Grif asked Vital Spark in a teasing tone.
“Hey, I don’t mind finishing lower on the totem pole. I just wanted to invite Trixie here to some friendly, non-magical competition.”
“Trixie is most definitely not amused,” Trixie said with a frown.
Vital shrugged. “It’s no skin off my back.”
Trixie stood that for a whole impressive minute, before letting her pride get the better of her as steam blew out her ears, and her face turned red. “Fine! Trixie will be there.”
“‘Atta girl.” Vital smiled, and patted her on the back. “We can race together, if you like. No competition. Just helping each other get to the end.”
Trixie blushed. “Let’s just get back to sparring practice, okay?”
Vital Spark shrugged. “Whatever you say, Trixie.”
The moon and stars shone brightly overhead, casting their lights upon the ruin that was once the lodge, before the Changelings had burned it to the ground. A large tent had been erected in the center of the debris with a narrow opening to release smoke, and allow the light of the moon to filter down to the flames. Sedans and cushions lay in an equidistant circle for the tribal leaders. The largest of all was reserved for Luna, who sat in the heavenly radiance of her ursa major robes atop a raised platform. Representatives from each of the clans sat in the outer reaches, looking on, while the nobles, guardians, and foals sat in the outermost circle. The children were doing what children did best, taking in the sights, and the awesome appearance that Luna put off as she gazed regally upon her subjects.
The nobles, on the other hoof, ranged from downright frightened to wetting themselves. Others gazed haughtily on the proceedings, choosing to ignore the significance of the event, and judge it for its more primitive and tribalistic nature. Naturally, it didn’t help that they had been ordered around by a duke that had only been appointed for such a short time. They were doing him a favor, after all, or so they thought. Pensword stood at the front of the platform with Lunar Fang and Fox Feather flanking him on either side. All three bore the silver circlets of their office, forged by Luna herself. Lunar Fang and Pensword had taken the liberty of donning their ursa robes to add to the solemnity of the occasion, much to the jealousy of many a noble lady, even if they weren’t willing to admit it.
At last, Luna slammed the butt of her hammer on a specially crafted gavel to draw the attention of the crowd. “Are all the chiefs present?” she asked.
Flury Fang stood from his sedan, and stepped forward. His leather bat wings flared as he bowed. “High Chieftess.” All the Thestrals ignored at least one loud sniff of disdain from the back of the tent. “All chiefs are present, and ready for the council to commence. We anxiously await hearing what the nobles of Canterlot wish to present to the tribes of the night. So says the Wolf Tribe, speaker for the council.”
“And are all the chiefs aware of the reason for this gathering?”
The glares and glances to the back spoke far louder than any voice could ever hope to manage. The accusatory silence was deafening.
Flury Fang waited with purpose, before raising his head from his bow. “We do know why, High Chieftess.” Some few of the nobles flinched as Flury Fang glanced their way. Many trembled nervously at the sight of so many weapons glinting at the Thestrals’ sides. If they thought they would be welcome before, that belief had been thoroughly buried, and entombed, before the cairn was lit on fire, put out, danced over, then lit on fire again for good measure.
“And will the Wolf accept these pups for the pack?”
“The Wolf will bring them into our pack, and shall teach the ways of the Moon, as well as the strength of the pack, and the hunt.”
Luna nodded, and turned to Shadow Wing. “And will the Fox take the extra kits into his den?”
“We shall teach them the cunning tricks and the trails unseen. The fox kits will learn their heritage.” Shadow Wing turned to gaze on the young foals with a tender smile, but cold fire burned in his eyes as he looked upon the nobles. The temperature in the tent seemed to drop, and the nobles shuddered.
“And will the Manticore accept this weight upon her back?” Luna asked Silent Hoof.
Silent Hoof nodded. “We shall teach the might of the stinger, the strength of the paw, the power of the bite, the softness of a mother’s love, and the kindness of helping another.” It seemed that the story of Dame Fluttershy and her manticore had reached Silent Hoof’s ears. As she turned to gaze at the outsiders, the nobles could swear they saw breath in front of their muzzles.
“And will the Lion take these cubs into her pride?” Luna asked as she turned to Long Mane.
“The pride will teach them to roar with our strength,” the mare answered.
“And will the Dragon foster these hatchlings?” she asked Vulcan Scales.
“We shall foster them as we would our own hatchlings. We will teach them to horde life, to fight for their rights, and never surrender. They will be feared as the mighty dragons themselves.” He turned to fix his gaze upon the foals, and as he did so, his shadow rose in the fire’s light, until it formed a mighty dragon whose fangs hovered over the nobles as its wings spread protectively over the foals. The haughty expressions had long since vanished from the more cynical of the outsiders.
“And will the Viper make room in her nest?” Luna turned her attention to Blitz Fang.
“We shall, and they shall become as feared as the viper’s bite, vengeful as the serpent’s ire, cunning as the beast in its hunt, and lithe as its body, able to slip into holes and places impassable. They will be taught how to kill, and heal using what nature herself has to offer.” She grinned, baring her fangs at the children with warmth. When she looked to the nobles, that gaze became as cold and impartial as the snake that was her clan’s namesake.
“And the Bear. Will he shelter these cubs, and keep them safe from harm?” Luna turned to Lone Claw.
“Until they are old enough to travel, and journey on their own, confident that no creature would touch them. We will teach them to protect their own cubs, when they have them, and to forage for their futures as they venture through life. As one does not come between the mother bear and her cubs, so shall one not come between ours and our young.” He turned and looked, and his gaze was as ravenous and territorial as a bear after its hibernation, when the early frosts still clung to the ground. The Nobles shivered, and some would swear that frost clung to their expensive clothing, yet none of the Thestrals appeared to be fazed. Some few of the foals looked almost anxious as the tribes’ families looked on with loving concern. Others still clung nervously to their parents or guardians, afraid to leave what they had come to know, even if it had been more painful than good for them.
Finally, Luna turned her attention to the nobles themselves. Her face was impassive, but her voice was clearly displeased as she addressed them. “You approached us to take these foals from you, not because you could not care for them, nor because you feared for their safety, save some very few of you. I have seen into your dreams. I know your minds, and I am sickened by what I found there. As such, these children will be cleansed of your corruptive, nay, your toxic influence. Instead, they shall be bathed in love and power that is their heritage, and the family you have so long denied them for fear of scandal and disapproval.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Know this. When you leave these foals, you leave any claim you would have to them as well. You will not see them, nor will you attempt to visit them for the next twelve years. You will not be asked for anything, but neither will you be permitted anything in turn. By my right as Princess of Equestria, and my right under the sacred bear, I strike this bond from you. You will leave these foals here tonight, and be gone before dawn's light breaches the horizon.”
Even before she could finish, a count and countess used their magic to pluck a tuft-eared unicorn, and a number of Pegasus foals from the group, and ran. This action prompted three more noble houses to flee, with one even going so far as to pluck a full-blooded Thestral foal.
Pensword reacted immediately. “Guards, follow them, and make sure they reach Ponyville with their foals. Send messengers to Celestia informing her to expect some of her nobles returning with foals that need to be fully recognized. They will likely require a Thestral honor guard set to protect them as well.”
Two noble mares fainted outright. Others remained frozen in fear. Others still had looks of consternation. Any hopes at being able to infiltrate the Lunar Court or influence it in any way had been neatly broken in the bud. The majority of the lesser nobles gulped as their knees knocked, not from the cold atmosphere, but the knowledge that they would likely be stripped of their lands and titles within the next generation, now that they were being forced to acknowledge these additions. The older families would ostracise them for sure. Only a precious few clung to their young with tearful eyes.
“Pensword, have the foals rounded up, and sort them into equal groups. Make sure to serve them something to eat. I want to make sure they have pleasant dreams tonight.”
Pensword nodded his understanding as he snorted, and sneezed. A certain number of other clanstallions and mares each gave a surreptitious nod in return, and briefly flashed a flask from beneath their furs. The young foals would have a full night’s rest, guaranteed.
Luna smiled sadly. “In the morning, we will decide which tribes will take which foals.”
“As the High Chieftess commands, so shall her will be carried out. May I recruit my mates Lunar Fang and Fox Feather to help?” he asked.
“Take as many Thestrals as you need,” Luna said. “This will not be an easy transition.”
After gathering the necessary help, he began to herd the foals.
“I will not suffer my family to lose its estate, after fighting so long to earn our place!” In a flash of golden light, a larger Unicorn stallion, two Thestral colts, one Unicorn filly with tufted ears, and a single Thestral mare were gone.
“And that is the bottom line for withdrawals,” Luna said as she signaled to an older Thestral mare, who proceeded to tap a crystal with her spear. The air surrounding the tent rippled momentarily, before returning to normal again. “That was an anti-dispersion field. Teleporting is no longer possible in this tent, though anyone still trying to leave is welcome to attempt to get past the guards,” Luna offered as two of the Dragon Clan’s warriors covered the doorway, armed with curved knives, and heavy dragon scale patterned armor.
Jet Set’s voice rang out. “Why would we leave? Those that have left have burned their bridges, will find themselves without friends, and all debts will be doubled and demanded in full. Either that, or they’ll be on the streets, where they belong. If they wish to keep the tainted blood in their homes, they can live in the lower parts of the mountain.”
Upper Crust’s voice cut in. “If they’re so lucky. If I had the power to decide their fates, they would be cast out from Canterlot entirely. Those cowards will get what they deserve.”
“The only cowards present tonight are the ones in front of me,” Luna said as her eyes bored into Upper Crust, before she spat to the side. The chiefs joined her in unison. “Blitz Fang, your shadow stalkers will escort these nobles off the grounds, after their last goodbyes. You may use paralytic or pain-inducing compounds, but nothing fatal.”
“As you command, so shall it be done.” Blitz Fang turned on the nobles, but, to their surprise, rather than a furious rage, a gentle kindness bordering pity shone on her face. “Take the time you wish. Say your goodbyes, and know that the moment you leave that tent door . . .” She took a deep breath that hitched in her throat. “You shall not see your foals for twelve years.”
The sound of Luna’s warhammer gavel rang through the room, commanding attention. “If our business is finished, I will adjourn to my tent for the night. If there is trouble, make sure to wake me,” Luna ordered as she lowered her hammer, and picked up a thigh bone from some large, unnamed animal. She brandished the bone, then smashed it against the ground, scattering shards across the floor. “This council is now concluded.”
The Thestrals began to disperse, after High Chieftess Luna left the tent. Pensword was busy helping three foals who appeared to be triplets. He winced at the thought of the poor mare who had been their mother. While the young ones had the white fur typical of their noble Solar ancestry, the rest of their features were fully Thestral. Their eyes glowed silver, sapphire, and Emerald as they looked between Pensword and a Unicorn with a silver mane and green eyes wearing a silk vest with a pocket watch hanging from his breast.
The Unicorn cleared his throat meaningfully, and Pensword stepped back to give him the time that had been promised. The Unicorn dropped to his knees, covering the silk with the dust from the ground as the triplets drew near. He nuzzled each and every one of them in turn. “Be well, my children,” he said, even as he struggled to keep his voice level.
“Daddy, why do we have to stay with our aunts and uncles? Is it because–?”
“Hush, my son, don’t worry.” The Unicorn smiled as he pulled the three colts in for a close embrace. “If I could keep you, I would in a heartbeat. But as things stand now, this is the safest place for you.” He looked up at Pensword and the other Thestrals guarding the tent. “They can teach you how to protect yourselves, to be cunning, to shun treachery and deceit, to live and fight with honor.” He sniffled as he pulled out a handkerchief, and dabbed his eyes. “And while you learn how to fight here, I will be free to fight for you back in Canterlot. You will have your rights, and you will have the freedom to follow your dreams. I promise you.” He gave them one last squeeze, and a gentle kiss, before he finally rose to his hooves, and turned to face Pensword.
He pulled open a pouch on a small saddle bag he’d been carrying at his hip, and sparked his horn to life. Three artfully carved daggers hovered towards Pensword, each identical in its craft with black metal that licked like a curving flame with edges sharper than fangs, and a golden overlay along the hilts and crossguard. The only difference between them lay with the gems that had been mounted on each one: a diamond, a sapphire, and an emerald. A single pocket watch hovered out to join them. A crescent moon had been carefully overlaid in mother of pearl, and the metal cover had been dyed in its forging to give it the dark blue tint of night. Tiny gemstones had been mounted to form the stars of the night sky as the edges of the crescent rose up to touch the edges of a golden five-pointed star.
“When they reach the right age, give these to them. They are their inheritance, a . . .” his voice caught in his throat. “A gift from their mother.”
“You have my word.” Pensword took the daggers carefully, and placed them in his belt beneath the robes, before putting the pocket watch into one of his robe’s interior pockets.
“If you and the other clans remain true to your word, I will gladly split my estate four ways.” He sighed. “I was supposed to destroy those, you know, but I just couldn’t bring myself to do it.” The triplets’ father sighed. “My only regret is I won’t be able to see them again, until they’re nearly full grown.”
“Are you going soft in your old age, Duke Chivalry?” Upper Crust asked scornfully. “How many years has it been since she died, six now? Move on.”
Chivalry snorted as he grit his teeth. “I’ll thank you to stay out of my business, Upper Crust. My heart is my own, and it loves whom it will.” His eyes glinted dangerously as his horn sparked. “If you or any of yours dare to sully her name, or that of my children, I will not be held responsible for my actions.”
“Excuse me,” Blitz Fang interrupted as she walked up, “but this time is meant specifically for parents to say their last farewells to their foals. You are interrupting that time. I’m afraid that I must ask you to leave, unless you have unfinished business with your own foals.” Her face was calm and impassive as she scanned the noble lady’s form. Blitz Fang’s eyes retained the slits their tribe was so well known for, even as her slightly longer fangs poked out from beneath her upper jaw. Her camouflaged armor blended almost perfectly with the tent and its surroundings as she stared the noble down without so much as a flinch.
Upper Crust bristled. “Don’t tell me what to do, you upstart little tramp. You think that just because your precious demigod gave you a circlet and an empty title that you can be our equals? My family can trace their roots back to the first courts of the Unicorn Kingdoms! You will never have–.” She hissed in pain as a hoof snapped to staunch the bleeding from her left fetlock.
Blitz Fang hadn’t appeared to move so much as a muscle, and yet a dripping dagger now lay in her wing’s grasp, where nothing had been less than a second ago. Her eyes narrowed into a commanding squint. “I suggest you go drink some thistle milk, and get that cut looked at. After all, we wouldn’t want such a minor injury from such an insignificant house to prevent your journey home, Dutchess Upper Crust, let alone taint the glory of your most ancient and illustrious name with the scandal of stooping to such childish antics as name calling and tribalism in these modern times.”
Upper Crust glared at Blitz Fang, before turning, and shoving her way past some Thestrals that had surrounded the gathering, cutting off any possibility of outside interference, and insuring any fighting that might break out would be completely localized, and easily subdued.
Blitz Fang allowed herself a small smile. “Insufferable little burr, isn’t she?”
“I could think of far worse things to call her, and I would, were it not for the ears of certain impressionable foals nearby,” Duke Chivalry said as he glared after Upper Crust. “Thank you, Lady Blitz Fang.”
“You are one of the few who actually cares enough to love his children, despite the cost to your reputation. Your mate would, doubtless, be proud.” She laid a consoling hoof on his shoulder. “You have my sympathies.”
Fox Feather smiled warmly at the Duke as she flew down from above. “May I have the names of the nobles that took off? Their children should be offered sanctuary in Ys, if any signs of abuse be discovered, and I’m certain Princess Luna would like to offer their families aid in paying off those debts Upper Crust and her ilk mentioned. We will not stand idly by when the future of these children is at stake.”
“My mate is right,” Pensword agreed. “It is only fair that each should be given a way out, should unreasonable opposition mount against them.
Duke Chivalry nodded. “For all I know, I might wind up needing a little help myself by the end of this mess.” He sighed, and shook his head. “I’ll make sure to send the list by mail. I know of a particularly trustworthy messenger nobody would dare to intercept. I’ll help you as best I can, even if it costs me my life.”
“You need not fear, Duke Chivalry, nor need your children,” Luna spoke up, even as she stepped out of the shadows nearby to the awe and surprise of the triplets and their father both. “We have eyes and ears that will see to your safety in Canterlot.”
He bowed low, using his magic to create an ethereal set of Thestral wings that flared out to either side. Pensword, Blitz Fang, and the three foals mimicked the gesture as the princess of the night stood in her less formal regalia. “I am truly honored, Princess. Or . . . should I call you High Chieftess?” Chivalry asked uncertainly.
Luna laughed. “With one such as you, it does not matter. Would that all my sister’s courtiers could be such as you. Had they been so, we may never have come to this,” she said with a lazy grin.
“It is more that there is fear for reprisal from others. The nobles have dealt with their own little power plays under one princess for such a long time. Suddenly, there are three now, and many fear losing what power they’ve gained.” He sighed wearily, and gulped. “I have spoken much, perhaps too much. However, if I may be so bold to ask of your ear a little longer, there is a request I must make.”
Luna leaned down to meet his eyes, and smiled gently as she laid a comforting wing on his back. “If it is within my power, and the bounds of reason, I will grant it.”
Chivalry nodded. “Thank you, Princess. The request is a simple one. I would ask, nay, beg that the Commander of the Equestrian Armed Forces look after my three sons. Each of them has expressed a desire to one day become captains in the Royal Guard. It is my hope that he can teach them how to achieve that goal, and exceed it.” He stood up from his bow, and the ghost wings vanished as he cut the flow of magic from his horn. The pain of the sacrifice he was about to make shone clearly in his eyes, but, to his credit, he did not complain, even as his children clung to his legs, and fixed Luna with the awesome force that all young foals bear in their youth, the puppydog eyes.
Luna nodded. “If the commander agrees, I see no reason to object. And should circumstances change, Chivalry, we may find reason to relax our fifteen-year sentence.” She leaned in, and whispered, “but don’t tell anypony else, okay?” Then she gave him a mischievous wink. “The embargo is mainly to help foals cleanse themselves of the influence of certain other individuals who are less than noble, if you catch my drift.”
“Oh, Princess.” The tears flowed freely down Chivalry’s cheeks as he pulled his children out from under his legs, and lined them up. “Take care, Inigo. May you grow strong, and master any weapon you choose.” He nuzzled the foal, then ruffled his black mane, much to the giggling consternation of the child. Then he turned to the middle foal, who looked on with emerald eyes. “And I bear the same wish for you, my dear little Cristo. May your talents continue to grow. Use those brains of yours to plan in battle, and outsmart your enemies. Save your accolades and rewards, so that, if I cannot give what is rightfully yours, you may buy a title yourself from Hammer Strike.” He pulled Cristo into a tight hug, pinning his blond mane flat, and causing the foal to gasp for breath, before finally finding sweet release, and a healthy appreciation for the air around him.
He turned to his last foal, and his breath hitched as he took in the foal’s serious eyes and midnight bandana. “And last, but not least, Day Moon.” His voice cracked as he laid a hoof on the foal’s head. “Your mother named you, and you will truly do great things. You will shine bright as the day with a light as gentle as the moon. Your kindness will define you, and will help to shape your peers. May you be true to the gift your mother left you, and all that it symbolizes. You don’t need to hide it anymore.” He kissed them each on the forehead, then pulled the bandana off Day Moon’s head to reveal a shock of shimmering white mane. Were it not for his silver eyes, one could swear he was an albino.
Pensword and all the other Thestrals gasped. “Moon Kissed,” he whispered.
“Yes. My wife feared what the court might do, if they found out. We don’t know which of the gifts he’ll receive, but we do know this is the best place for him to learn when it finally comes.”
“How old are they?”
“Seven.”
“It’s only a matter of time, then.”
“Yes. Now you see another reason why I asked that you be the one to raise them.”
“And have you any others?”
Chivalry chuckled. “One other, but I think I’ll leave that to someone else to explain.” The duke rose, and his horn sparked to life again as the spectral wings returned. He used them to salute to Pensword, Luna, and the foals. Lunar Fang emerged from the circle of Thestrals, and the constellations on her robe swirled as she approached to stand by her husband with Foxfeather. “Duke Chivalry, while I would love to take in your sons, there is one who must give her approval first.”
She paused as they all heard a cheerful squeal, followed by a blur of motion as Moon River tackled into the boys, and immediately engaged in a wrestling match with them. Lunar Fang couldn't help but chuckle at the antics, even as Moon River gave each colt a run for his money, before collapsing into a hugging match filled with scattered laughter.
“It seems Moon River will have brothers to boss around and teach, after all.” Lunar Fang smiled as she bowed her head towards Chivalry, then approached him, and took him in a warm embrace. “We don’t have to worry about repercussions now that we’re both nobles.”
Chivalry was startled at first, but soon settled into the hug, and even went so far as to return the gesture as tears stood in his eyes. “You’re not upset, then?”
“Chivalry, you took every precaution to protect those boys. How could I be mad when you’ve done such a wonderful job raising them? My sister would be proud, and so am I.” She broke off the embrace, and handed him a glowing pendant shaped like the moon. A single drop had been carved at its bend. “As a Duchess, and as a member of the family, I wish to invite you to join us in a moon’s time to dine at the clan house. It’s only fitting to have her husband with us on her anniversary. Starry Night would have wanted it that way.”
“It . . . would be my honor, Moonshade.” Chivalry held the pendant close to his heart, before placing it gently into his saddle bag.
Pensword Whipped his head to gape at Lunar Fang. His eyes widened in shock as his jaw hung open in the breeze. “I’m an uncle?”
A few hours, and a couple of drinks later, Pensword sat in his office as he struggled to wrap his head around this new revelation that his wife had failed to mention when they’d been courting. He, Lunar Fang, and Duke Chivalry had taken the pretense of making final arrangements to give them the opportunity to meet in private, and avoid any suspicions. A tea tray steamed on his desk as he took one of the sugar cane stalks that had been set up next to it, and he decimated it to work off the shock.
Lunar Fang blushed as she looked her husband in the eyes. This time, it was her turn to explain. She winced as Pensword broke through his stalk with a hearty snap, before he took the longer of the two ends, and resumed his chewing. She sighed.
“I know I owe you an explanation, Pensword,” she started, “but there was a reason why I didn’t tell you about any of this before. My sister was once married to the duke. It was deemed a scandal at the time by most of the nobles, but it was one allowed by Celestia for love’s sake. We have Cadence to thank for that one. They were happy for a few years, but things grew heated when she finally gave birth to the triplets. It was one thing for a noble to have a dalliance, and even a marriage with a Thestral. It was quite another for her to give birth to three healthy Thestral children.”
She took the chance to drink some of the tea, then cut off a chunk of cane to steep in her cup. “The court was in an uproar. These were three legitimate children of rank who were openly acknowledged, even loved, by mother and father alike. They would one day take on their father’s mantle, and there was nothing the court could say or do to gainsay it, while the marriage remained valid. Worse still, in their eyes, the children were to experience their culture, as all Thestral children do. I remember it well.”
Lunar Fang took a moment to try her tea, and wiped her eyes on the sly in the process. “I’d been given leave on multiple occasions to visit their home, and organize the journey. The tribe was so excited to be able to meet their newest additions, and the Thestral community at large was excited for the social ramifications this would have on the kingdom. It could have meant real, legitimate change, setting a precedent of equality and acceptance that would stand irrefutable throughout Equestria. It could have been. It should have been.” Her head dipped low, causing her mane to fall over her face as she ruminated over her tea, and swished it between her hooves.
“Yes, it should,” Chivalry said consolingly as he placed a supportive hoof on her shoulder. “Why don’t you let me take over from here, Moonshade?”
“But Chivalry–.”
“Please,” he said softly. “This is my story, too.”
She sniffled but once, then nodded her acquiescence.
The duke smiled sadly. “Thank you.” He levitated his tea, and took a sip, followed by a long sigh. Fortified by the artificial warmth that now flowed from his chest into his outer extremities, he resumed the narrative. “Unfortunately, after just a year into the children’s growth, my wife fell ill. We worked hard to nurse her back to health, but, regrettably, nothing seemed to work. My Starry Night’s health continued to wane. She passed at the end of the children’s second year.” He sighed, and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “And now we come to the part I’m not proud of. When the customary time had passed for mourning, I was summoned to a private meeting with several of the more influential houses in the House of Nobles. They offered their condolences, of course, and then came the threats. I’ll not regale you with the specifics. The long of the short was that I had to remarry as soon as possible, or risk losing any means of supporting my children and the Ponies under my jurisdiction.
“The wedding took place, as arranged, and, to make matters worse, arrangements had been included in the contract to ensure her first born would take precedence over my sons in ascension.” He grit his teeth, and would not raise his gaze to meet Pensword’s eyes. “It was either that, or watch my own children be assassinated before my eyes.”
Two cups shattered at that announcement, and the sound of dribbling tea tattooed against the ponies’ eardrums as if poured over the edge of Pensword’s desk.
“Why didn’t you tell us?” Lunar Fang Demanded angrily. “We could have protected them. We could have–!”
“No, you couldn’t, Moonshade,” Chivalry cut her off. The depth of pain and anger in those eyes reflected Moonshades, but the sorrow and guilt far outstripped her own, creating a hole that would give even the bravest spelunkers pause. “Not when Luna hadn’t returned yet. You know better than anypony else. At most, Celestia kept a token Lunar Guard for night shifts and intelligence work. How do you think the houses would have reacted to the sudden arrival of an entire clan of fully armed Thestrals flocking to my house, especially with the documents and resources they had at their disposal? They could easily forge an annulment, or worse, documents implicating me and your clan in an attempted coup.” He shook his head. “No, it had to be this way, as much as I hate myself for it.”
“And your other children?” Pensword asked.
A jaded smile crossed the duke’s lips. “In that way, at least, Faust blessed me. Crown Jewel is barren. Every time she comes into heat, I’m forced to try, and every time, it’s a failure. When the truth became apparent, my ‘dearly concerned’ fellow nobles tried to pair me with another mare, but Celestia put her hoof down. It was one thing to have me remarry to have some female companionship on the lonelier nights. It was another thing altogether to try to force me to marry another wife, when my current one still lives. She’s kept a rather close eye on our house ever since, and I’ve held the warning over Jewel and her fellows’ heads that if they hurt so much as a hair on my boys’ hides, I would take everything to Celestia and Luna, and damn the consequences.”
The Duke’s horn sparked to life as he levitated the shards of the saucers and cups from the ground, and placed them gently in the rubbish bin. Then he levitated his handkerchief to sop up the mess. “I’m sorry things turned out this way, Moonshade. Really, I am. This is about the best way I can make it up to you. My boys want to be warriors, and, in your care, the last hold those cantankerous pustules have on me will be broken. I don’t claim to be anywhere near as strong or brave as your sister, Moonshade, but I hope, in this small way, at least, that I can help put some wrongs to right, and in doing so, honor her memory, and her love, unworthy though I am to have received it.”
Pensword watched the exchange with pensive gaze as he ran the facts of the scenario through his head. He recalled these tactics, had seen them employed many times in his day, before the war. Given the circumstances, if he had been in the same horseshoes, he might very well have done the same thing to keep Lunar Fang’s memory alive. To think otherwise would be to lie. As such, he knew what needed to be said, and wasted no time in saying it.
“I do not blame you.”
Both of the other Ponies’ heads swerved to stare at Pensword. “Wh-what did you say?” Chivalry asked.
“I said I don’t blame you, Chivalry. Your love for your foals, and for my,” he cleared his throat, “sister-in-law is quite clear in your actions. You are, perhaps, one of the very few among the nobles who has taken the time to learn of our culture, and embrace it. Should any seek to do you or yours harm, you will have our support. And, rest assured, your children will be in good hooves.”
“I can’t begin to tell you how relieved I am to hear you say that, Pensword. I know not everyone in the family will necessarily be pleased with the idea.”
Pensword looked questioningly to his wife, and Lunar Fang sighed.
“When Starry Night married Chivalry, and became a duchess, my older sister vowed never to have anything to do with her or her offspring again. She felt that, after all the abuse we’d faced from the other tribes, we should stick to our own. You could say she was a reflection of the purism the nobles practice. It’s . . . it’s ultimately why she chose to leave. I haven’t heard anything from her since Mother and Father died.”
Pensword facehoofed. “Right. So now there’s another sister I didn’t know about. Great.” He sighed, then smiled tiredly at his wife. Lunar Fang returned with a sheepish smile of her own. “New relations aside, I am happy we are here to help you, Chivalry. It is good to know that we have more members in the family. As I am sure Lunar– I mean Moonshade can attest, I am always happy to welcome more into the family. That includes you. We will do the best we can to raise your boys the way you and your wife would have had them raised.”
“I expect nothing less. If you were to give me any . . . leniency according to the Solar Court’s standards, I would challenge you to a duel to see if you were worthy to raise our young.”
Pensword raised an eyebrow. “Starry Night taught you well.” He caught his wife’s blush behind her mane, and chuckled. “And Moonshade as well, it would seem. No wonder she was able to teach Matthew so easily.” He shook his head. “I must admit, it feels strange to call her by that name, after all this time.”
Chivalry laughed. “It’s strange for me to hear Lunar Fang, instead of Moonshade. Still, I must warn you, if I was able to tell the difference, the other nobles will soon as well. And while I can see you pre-empted it by marrying Moonshade, they will still endeavor to slander you, and your reputation.”
“If they wish for proof, I can give them a very accurate demonstration for how to garrott a Gryphon,” Lunar Fang said passively.
“I’m sure you can, and that could prove it,” Duke Chivalry replied with another chuckle. “I recommend you keep that wire in your weapon’s pouch, just in case. You never know when the opportunity might present itself.”
Lunar Fang chuckled. “Any that give me reason to do so won’t last long.”
“Hear hear,” the other two agreed fervently as Pensword passed out the sugar canes for them to share together.
Vital Spark looked about nervously as he prepped for the long run ahead of him. Unlike previous years, the ranks of spectators and volunteers had risen to the point where carpenters had to make stands, and Unicorn mages had to be on standby to broadcast the events via a live magical crystal feed. Thanks to Comic, these babies would be able to record events as seen through the eyes of the announcers, and then be broadcast magically to the Unicorns that had been synched with the crystals. They would broadcast their magic into a series of refracting crystals that had been specially grown in the Crystal Empire to create a gigantic display hovering in the air with minimal effort. If one of the mages grew low on mana, a replacement Unicorn would be able to pick up the feed, allowing the coverage to remain strong throughout the competition. As he’d put it, the image should come in crystal clear.
Black Rook and the other troops also made their preparations, while Vital Spark scanned the crowds for his friends. Up in the royal box, Twilight sat, waiting to officiate. She smiled, and waved down at Vital Spark, and the balloon, where Pinkie Pie and Spike were getting ready to take off and comment.
Grif sat casually with his family on a few lawn chairs he’d insisted on bringing, despite the stands. He smiled wickedly at the members of his own troops in the running of the leaves, having told them there would be a special punishment for anyone who finished below thirteenth place. Given that there were over thirty of them in the race, more than a few were sweating at the sight of Grif as he offered Shrial and Avalon roasted chestnuts.
Vital Smiled, and waved as he spotted Clover over by the stands. She appeared to be examining the matrix work on the crystal display, so he let his gaze wander after some of his other friends in the crowd. It was a fun way to pass the time, until the race began.
Pensword also sat in the stands to watch as his own troops raced, including Fox Feather. He was dressed in a formal suit, and laughed at some of the antics his fellow Demon Slayers did in preparation for the race, including a mock military march. His eyes gleamed in anticipation as he thought about his plans for after the race. Four young foals propped themselves up on the banister to see the action, and to cheer on their new mother as the runners got ready for the race to come. Lunar Fang couldn’t help but smile as she pulled Pensword close to her with a wing. In this moment, they were one big, happy family.
“Welcome, everypony, to the annual Running of the Leaves!” Pinkie Pie shouted out through her megaphone. “Is everypony excited? I’m so excited! Just look at all the runners we have this year! It’s going to be a close race, and nopony can guess which runner might be the winner!”
“That’s right, Pinkie. Will it be our old favorites, Applejack and Rainbow Dash, or is it possible the new guards might just pull ahead to clinch a win for Equestria’s military? Then again, it looks like we might be getting a few Gryphons in on the action, too. It could be anypony’s game at this point,” Spike said through his microphone.
“And just look at all the people who’ve come this year! The stands are so packed, we’ve even got concession ponies! Hey, Smokey Red, gimme a hot one!” Pinkie shouted. The pony in question immediately levitated a steaming carrot dog with all the works, causing both commentators to salivate.
Spike immediately produced a gem. “Make that two!”
“You know, in all this time, I don’t think I’ve ever seen Spike actually eat meat,” Vital Spark mused. “Gems, sure, and the occasional Pony delicacy, especially sweets, but never protein.”
“He was raised by Ponies, Mon’ami,” Kahn said with a playful smile. “What else would you expect?”
“Fair enough. So, are you ready to run with the rest of us?” Vital asked.
“Naturellement.” He brushed at his feathers. “After all, one has to know how to impress the ladies.”
“You mean like you impressed that rose bush?” Vital asked with a chuckle.
“At least I got farther with zat rosebush than you have with your a’mour, my friend,” Kahn said, chuckling. “And, if I had your way with la femmes, I wouldn’t have to do much wooing at all.”
“Uh, I’m not really a flirtatious kind of guy, Kahn. You sure you’re not talking about somepony else?” Vital asked as he raised a skeptical eyebrow.
“Oh, mon’ami, you cannot see the hand in front of your face,” Kahn said, chuckling louder as he facetaloned.
“Well, yeah. I’ve got hooves,” Vital said with a perfectly straight face.
It was at that point Kahn's chuckle broke into a much louder laugh.
Vital smirked. “Thought that might get you going.”
“Are you prepared to lose, then, mon’ami?” Kahn said as he recovered.
“It’s not about winning or losing, Kahn. It’s supposed to be about having fun, and getting the leaves to fall. Though I still don’t get why we have to run to make them do that. Gravity should do that for us as time passes.” Vital shrugged. “Still, far be it for me to question local traditions.”
“Competition is the drive, though, non? Everyone here may not be upset, if they lose, but it is the thrill of the win that attracts them.”
“I’m just looking forward to seeing how I can fare in this kind of race. It’s the first time I’ve done a marathon before.”
Twilight concentrated her magic into her horn, and let loose a colorful display of magic to draw everypony’s attention her way. She then proceeded to clear her throat, and speak.
“Welcome, everypony, and thank you for coming to this wonderful event. I still remember my first Running of the Leaves just a few years ago, and the many warm memories and lessons that came with it. Today, we gather once again to remember these times, and to make new memories. However, we also gather today to remember the lives of those who sacrificed so much to protect our beloved homes from invasion. The Changelings have taken much from us since their first invasion. They’ve taken our sense of safety, filled our lives with fear, spread chaos and destruction, and now, have brought death.
“But even as we remember these painful moments, we need to remember that not all Changelings are the same. Thanks to Queen Me-Me, and her hive, New Unity was able to be alerted of the coming swarm, and mount a valiant defense, until the time that Hammer Strike, Pensword, and Grif were able to return from a diplomatic mission. We lost many brave souls to that attack, from all the tribes, our brothers and sisters in friendship and harmony, including many of Me-Me’s children, and the Gryphons from the Bladefeather Clan. These soldiers were unique, tenacious, focused, dedicated, and honorable. They fought valiantly, and have been laid to rest with the honors they deserve. At this time, I would like to ask that we observe a moment of silence for these, our fallen guardsponies, Changelings, and Gryphons of New Unity.”
Twilight fired off her horn once again, leaving a glowing insignia in the air. First, a glowing Unicorn’s horn, then a Pegasus wing, then a powerful hoof, a Changeling wing, a Gryphon’s head, and last, a crescent moon behind a Thestral wing. These six images circled together in the air as a rainbow ball of light formed where their corners touched. Then they merged together, and the orb of light burst apart, slowly dropping sparkles of multicolored dust surrounding the names of the fallen, one after the other, with no preference for tribe, rank, or creed.
“These are the remembered. And, like these leaves, they were with us for a very short time. For many of us, they fell too soon, but they will live on in our hearts and our minds, and what they stood for will live on to spring anew at winter’s end. In honor of their ideas of unity, of harmony, of friendship and love, these Gryphons and Ponies run. Let us also honor their memory, and carry them with us to shape a brighter tomorrow, and a happier spring.” She flapped her wings, and flew above the starting line. “With that being said, let the Running of the Leaves commence! Runners, to your positions!”
The assortment of creatures approached the much wider starting line.
“El Fluffy, if you would be so kind,” Twilight said as she bowed in the large manticore’s direction. He had chosen to settle on a large pillow next to Hammer Strike on the ground near the starting line. Renati perched on a tall pole that had been set next to Hammer Strike’s seat, and Hammer Strike himself looked silently on as the events wound up. El Fluffy looked inquiringly at Hammer Strike, who simply gave a slight nod. The manticore then proceeded to rise to all fours, cough, clear his throat, then roar. The racers were off in a cloud of dust, and the thunderous roar of hundreds of hooves, paws, and talons beat the ground as one.
“Wow, now that’s what I call one doozie of a race!” Pinkie Pie said through her megaphone.
“That’s right, Pinkie. I’d say that just about everypony here had their heart in it. Just look at what a great job they did!” Spike said as he motioned towards Whitetail Woods. Not a single leaf was left hanging, and the ground seemed alight with color and flame that would stir at the slightest breeze.
“Indeed. Quite right, Spike. Why, I’d even go so far as to say they painted the town,” a familiar voice echoed as, with a pop, and a burst of confetti, Discord appeared hovering next to the balloon with his own microphone, except it was a rubber chicken. “Well, maybe not really, but I suppose it will have to do, under the circumstances.” He sighed, and waved his lion paw negligently.
“Mmhmm mm hmm! Hmm mmm hmm hmm,” a red-dressed Pony wearing a gas mask covering the entirety of his face spoke out.
“Thats right, my friend. Let’s get a big round of applause for everyone who ran today!” Pinkie said as though the sudden appearance of the Pony in a hot air balloon basket more than fifty feet above ground was no big deal.
“Pyro, is that you? My goodness, you’ve certainly gotten built. Have you been working out?” Discord asked.
“Mmmfmmm hmm hmm hmm!” the pony responded.
“Thats right, silly! This pyro’s never met you before. That was his great great great great–.” For the sake of convenience, we can simply assure you Pinkie stated every single great individually. “–Great grandfather!”
Discord leaned in, and carefully looked over the mask, the Pony’s coat, his mane. “Hmm. You know, you look almost just like him. You’re sure you still want to keep those lenses I gave him? Last I heard, they drove him to destroy an entire county, before they could get him under ‘control,’” he said, performing the air quotes. “Now where’s the fun in that?”
“Hmmm mmm fmm fm hmmm,” the Pony explained, stomping a hoof.
“I see. Well, that explains why your family didn’t break me out,” he mused. “You were having too much fun spreading chaos elsewhere.”
“Um, Discord, maybe you should save that conversation for another time,” Spike said as he pointed meaningfully towards the hundreds of Ponies that were staring at the incredibly strange conversation.
“Well, I suppose, just this once, that I can play along with your little game,” Discord said as he rolled his eyes. “Ladies and gentlecolts, and foals of all ages! And Gryphons, Minotaurs, and whatever other thing you may be,” he added under his breath. “It is our distinct pleasure to present to you the royal egghead herself, the diva of devices, the most famous of formulists, the winged clutz of the year, and Princess of Equestria, Twilight Sparkle!” Discord threw his hands up in the air, and a rain of gophers suddenly rained down from the sky, much to Fluttershy’s glee as she cuddled them. The others that fell nearly caused a panic, before they suddenly burst into a cloud of extremely colorful flowers. “Ta-da!” Discord said as he took a bow using a top hat he’d conjured.
“Discord,” Twilight grated from behind him.
“What? Can’t everypony take a little joke?” he asked with a chuckle. “Princess Twilight, everypony!”
The crowds cheered for her as she hovered there, and Twilight blushed at the attention. “Thank you, everypony, for coming to support the Running of the Leaves. It was quite a surprising turn of events to see a five-way tie for first place. With that being said, I would like to ask the lucky runners to step forward to receive their prize. “Congratulations, Applejack, Rainbow Dash, Black Rook, Kahn, and Fox Feather!”
The crowd roared as the five stepped forward. Applejack and Rainbow Dash grinned at one another as they hoof bumped. Fox Feather remained dignified and solemn with Black Rook at her side, and Kahn whispered something into Twilight’s ear as he accepted his prize, before moving to stand beside the others. He chuckled as the princess blushed a furious scarlet behind him.
“Just what did you say to her?” Rainbow Dash whispered conspiratorially.
“J’aurais préféré un baiser de la belle dame, ma petite princesse. In Equish, it means something along the lines of, ‘I’d have preferred a kiss from the lovely lady.’” Kahn chuckled roguishly.
Rainbow Dash couldn’t help but laugh out loud as she kicked in the air like she normally did when the mood took her. This made Twilight blush all the more as she turned to address the crowd. “As for the rest of our runners, Each has been displayed on the crystal generator for you to see. Since we only had medals made for the top five, I’m afraid we won’t be able to give out any others, but good job to all of you. It was a thrilling race, right up until the very end. Thank you so very much for coming. With the festivities here over, you can feel free to return to your homes. And remember, Nightmare Night is just around the corner, so don’t forget to get those decorations and sweets ready for our special guest,” Twilight said with a smile.
As Ponies proceeded to disperse, many wandered among the kiosks and stands that had been set up for any last minute sales or treats, before making their way back to Ponyville to return to their usual activities. Hammer Strike nodded his approval at the fair play, and the performance and bearing from the troops, while Pensword flew in to embrace his wife alongside Lunar Fang. While everyone was distracted and dispersing, Kahn was busy moving in on an opening.
With all the skill and poise of the malicious flirt that he was, Kahn slowed his pace as he crossed Rainbow to leave the stage, speaking in a voice low enough that only the two of them could hear. “Perhaps reaching for the stars was beyond me, non? But who knows, maybe, sometime, I’ll get to taste the rainbow?” He walked off the stage, not needing to look back at the red-faced Rainbow Dash.
“Huh. I wonder what he had to say,” Vital Spark said as he pointed out the distinctly embarrassed Rainbow Dash to Trixie. “Great job, by the way. You’re in better shape than I thought you would have been, based on what I’d heard about you before.”
“Was there ever any doubt?” Trixie asked with an over-dramatic gesture that ‘accidentally’ caused her hat to fall over her face, hiding a blush of her own that she quickly gained control over.
“Let’s just call it a healthy skepticism,” Vital Spark said with a playful chuckle.
“It was nice for Trixie to get out, though. Thank you for convincing Trixie to do this.” Humility obviously didn’t come naturally to her, but it was a start.
“Was that actually a compliment I heard?” Vital Spark laughed as Trixie blushed. “It’s good to see you acting more like a person, and less like an overconfident prick. Not that you have been since, you know. . . .” This time he was the one blushing awkwardly as the memory of her near-death experience returned.
“Trixie knows she was . . . high strung in the past. She is trying very hard to change that.”
“And you’re doing a great job. You think, um, maybe we could study together some time? I’m having a little difficulty with some of the finer aspects of fetlock reading, and I could use a partner to help me out.”
“Trixie believes she might be able to make time in her schedule to give you her invaluable aid!” she said, swirling her cape with a flare. “But, for now, she must . . . disappear!” Unable to hide the blush on her face for much longer, she tossed down a smoke pellet, and vanished in the smoke that followed.
Vital Spark stared at the spot where she had been standing for a few moments. “She does realize she could’ve just teleported, right?” he asked the air as he cocked his head in confusion, before turning to see if he couldn’t find Hammer Strike and the others.
Pensword entered Hammer Strike’s Office, after checking to make sure he had no appointments. He smiled at Hammer Strike, and sat down in his usual place. “I am thinking of organizing a guy’s night out. Try to get back to the old times, before we were running the world, you know?” His cheeky grin showed he was kidding with that last comment, though there was an element of truth behind it as well. “Just enjoy each other's time. I never did get to hear what you all did to the military back home. I heard something about a freak out, but I didn’t get too many specifics. How was your family?” He sighed. “I know it will be hard to just start it up again, after all this time, but I would like to try, just so we can be friends and normal folk again, not the war heroes or the nobles or leaders.”
“And where, exactly,” Grif asked as he entered the room, “could we go? I know I wouldn’t like to be swarmed by fans, and I know Hammer Strike would hate it.”
“We start in our offices, but, eventually, we can build what I think would be called a . . . man cave? Did I get that right?”
“Wouldn’t be hard to make a space for it,” Hammer Strike commented.
“Well, then we can build it in the coming months. Might be fun to build it ourselves. Or should we get some outside help?” Pensword asked excitedly. “Would be a nice place to display and store the items from earth we can’t show to the public just yet. And it could be where we … No! Bad Pensword,” he snapped at himself. “Big planning later. Right now . . . well, what should we have as a checklist for this cave, then? I think a library would be a big item.”
“New Unity has a library, and I doubt we all brought enough books to require a second library. I can make some shelves for the room, and we can use them.”
“Okay,” Pensword replied with a smile. “So what do you two want to add to it?”
“It definitely has to be someplace with electricity.” Grif shrugged. “Or with power of some sort.”
“Shouldn’t be too hard to set up. I brought some plans for that,” Hammer Strike replied as he pat his coat.
“And I have a solar power generator,” Pensword added. “The US government gave it to us.”
“You can only get so much power out of those, but they’re still useful, yeah,” Hammer Strike agreed.
“It will be a start,” Pensword said with a grin. His ears perked, and his tail swished in anticipation.
“Isn’t a solar generator a little obvious?” Grif asked.
“Hide it like an oil well or water treatment plant behind the facade of a house,” Pensword answered.
“There are methods of creating solar-based energy through magic,” Hammer Strike hinted.
“You mean as in tapping the power directly?” Grif asked.
“Basically.”
“Would it take long to set up?”
“Not sure. If I do it myself, I could do it relatively quickly,” Hammer Strike replied, before muttering under his breath, “unless I accidentally let the energy disperse, like the first time I made them.”
“So, those crystal things will power stuff?” Pensword asked.
“Oh, no. That’d require a lot more work for a simple conversion. What I meant is supplying the solar panels with the same type of energy as it would sitting in sunlight. Just . . . not from the sun.”
“Either way, Pensword, I can’t see this being something we can set up any time soon. I have a lot on my plate at the moment,” Grif noted
“I understand that, but it would be something fun for us to do when we have less stuff on our plates.”
“It might at that,” Hammer Strike mused. “It might at that.”
Grif knocked on the door to Cheshire’s house with three short, quick, loud raps. After a while of thinking, he was sure he’d finally managed to come up with the best way to word what he wanted to say.
The sound of a jingling bell heralded the opening of the door as the portal pulled slowly open on squeaky hinges. Nobody stood at the door, but Grif’s trained eyes could easily make out the near-translucent wire that trailed from the door. As he reached the hallway, he turned to see an ingenious, albeit overbearingly complex, pile of cogs, arms, claws, winches, and springs that made up the device for the door.
“A visitor? For me?” Cheshire’s voice chuckled in that unusually carefree tone of hers, light as air, and as infuriating as the day she first grinned at him. “And who might it be, I wonder. Could it be the butcher? The baker? The vacuum salesman?”
“We need to talk, Chesire,” Grif said as he walked in, and examined the mechanism as a tug from a second string prompted the thing to spring to life, and kick an old horseshoe into the door to slam it shut.
“Then talk. I certainly won’t stop you, though to say that it’s needed, now that’s an interesting choice of words. What do we really need, Grif, hmm?” A deep purr sounded from the room nearby, and the brighter yellow light indicated a roaring fire.
“Chesire, when you install heavily intricate mechanisms to avoid needing to get up and answer the door, you’re at the point where you need to have people around.”
“Is that so? And who’s to say it wasn’t just a hobby of mine? I’ve been feeling so terribly good of late. Why, I’d almost say it hurts, if things weren’t going so well.”
As Grif rounded the hall’s corner, he found Cheshire with a goofy grin on her face as she lay on her side by the fire. Her armor lay on a strangely constructed stand off to the side. In an odd turn of events, it seemed that its feet had been stood up in the air, while the prongs for holding the armor were kept upside down, and the hooks had been reversed. The extra portions indicative of what had once been the arms of a coatrack now served as the base. She purred pleasurably as she stretched, and sighed contentedly as their eyes met.
“Chesire. Shrial, Avalon, and I have been talking. They’re worried about you, and, honestly, I am, too. We wanted to offer you a chance to live with us, at least until the baby is born. Lots of talons make for light work, after all.”
“Talons, talons, claws, and beaks. Fangs that bite, and teeth that gnash.” She giggled again. “You know, it’s the most curious thing how I’ve been feeling of late. I wonder if that’s why Mother told me not to have children.” She laughed. “I suppose I can be just a little bit mad, can’t I? But, then again, where’s the sense in life without a little nonsense?” And then she grinned an unsettling grin Grif had only seen a few times before, on a very strange cat from a land of wonder.
“A little nonsense now and then is cherished by the wisest men,” Grif offered. “Seriously, though, Cheshire. Please come back to the house with me.”
Cheshire purred, and rubbed her belly, before warbling affectionately at the spot. “No, I don’t think so, Grif.” Then she stretched again, and flipped to her other side, exposing just how wide her stomach had begun to expand, and sighed. “I’m feeling just a tad too good right now to move anywhere, you know.”
“I guess it’s too bad then.” Grif sighed. “The girls are going to grow up with only straight-laced Thalia for an aunt. No crazy, fun-loving aunt to keep them on the right path. Who knows what will happen to them?”
“Isn’t that what Avalon is there for? I hear she has quite the mischievous streak in her. As changing as the Winds, if what I hear is true,” she said with a smirk, though a glimmer of a playful glint shone in the back of those blissful eyes. Grif couldn’t help but smirk.
"Yes, but she's a scholar," he pointed out. "She’ll be calm, collected, and, Winds have mercy, methodical about it. Is that the way mischief is to be taught, Chesire, through method?”
Cheshire sighed. “Well, I suppose I could see about making my way over there, what with my busy schedule and all.” She rolled her eyes as she stretched yet again.
“Did I mention we’re having tuna tonight?” Grif offered.
“Are you trying to stereotype me, Grif?” Cheshire asked as she slowly circled her clan leader.
Grif raised an eyebrow, before producing a ball of yarn, and tossing it in front of her. Without even looking at it, Chesire’s talons struck out to bat at it.
“Touché,” she said with a smirk. “You’re lucky I’m pregnant. That wouldn’t have worked otherwise,” she said as she tossed the ball back and forth between her paws while her tail whipped playfully behind her.
“No, probably not,” Grif agreed. “If it makes things easier, I could have a litter brought for you.”
“Oh, Grif. Don’t you know?” she asked as she passed through the door, and slowly backed into the shadows leading to her personal quarters, so only the whites of her teeth and her eyes remained. “I’m already gone.” Her voice seemed almost to echo as even those last remnants faded into the nothingness.
“Once again, I always find myself praising the Winds she’s on our side,” Grif told himself with a chuckle as he put down the fire grate, before leaving the room. He had a sneaking suspicion Cheshire was already with the girls.
“All right now, ladies, if you could just make your way over here, that would be positively lovely,” Rarity said as she levitated her trusty measuring tape, note pad, quill, and inkwell. “Hold still, and we can have this fitting finished within the hour. And then we get to the best part of the preparations.” She practically vibrated with excitement. “Picking out the wedding dress!”
“I still don’t get why we have to be here when Twilight gets to skip out,” Rainbow Dash grumbled.
Applejack promptly knocked Rainbow on the shoulder with a hoof. “Because she’s a princess, and she’s got princess duties to attend to. Now quit puttin’ up such a fuss. Twilight’ll be here when she’s finished with her royal duties for the day.”
“And since she has to handle the ceremony, Spike said she was up super duper late working on the wedding speech again, and again, and again, and again, and again, until she could get it just perfect!” Pinkie Pie added as she bounced in place. “Ooh! Ooh! This one, Rarity!” she said, pointing a a very vibrant neon pink party dress.
“Perhaps for the reception, darling,” Rarity said, “But the wedding requires a particular color scheme, and we’re going more for a forging theme in the royal court. I can just picture it now. The excitement, the glamour, the simple love through gentle actions. Ooh, why, it’s just like The Princess Bride!”
“I think that’s so romantic. And we can have all my cute little forest friends sing in a choir. Forges are always closer to the wild,” Fluttershy said with a gentle smile.
Sweetie Belle poked her head in from another room. “Can we be the flower girls again?”
“Flower girl? Oh, Sweetie, you’ll be much more important than that,” Rarity said as she rushed over, and swept the filly up in her hooves. “You’re going to be our ring bearer!”
“Wait, you don’t mean like Frodo from that story Taze told us, do you?”
“While replicating that volcanic eruption in the form of a fireworks display would be a grand event, and I am perfectly confident Hammer Strike could forge a magical ring, if he felt like it, I’m fairly certain wedding rings are meant to be worn, not tossed into a fiery pit, Sweetie. You won’t have to worry about a thing.”
“Besides, Mount Doom went extinct six hundred years ago, silly,” Pinkie said as she rubbed a hoof in Sweetie Belle’s mane.
“But what do Scootaloo, Applebloom, Dinky, and Button do?” Sweetie Belle asked.
“Well, I suppose we could have you and Button be ring bearers together,” Rarity mused. “It’s a tad unorthodox, but there are two rings involved, so having two bearers should work. And the rest of the CMC are going to be flower maidens, of course.”
“Well, in Pegasus weddings, a guard walks with the ring bearer to protect the bands, so nobody can steal them to break up the ceremony.” Rainbow Dash said with a grin. “I think Button Mash would look awesome in a set of armor. Can’t you picture it, guys?”
Sweetie Belle blushed. “I . . . I guess so.”
“Why, that’s positively brilliant, Rainbow Dash! He can be Hammer Strike’s squire!” Rarity gushed.
“Sounds like a plan to me,” Applejack agreed.
“It’s settled, then. Sweetie, I already have your measurements. Why don’t you go tell Button Mash the good news?”
“M-me?”
“Who better than my little sister to ask?” Rarity pointed out as she smiled kindly. “Besides, I’ll be busy making all these dresses.”
They all waited, until the door had closed, and Sweetie Belle’s form had vanished past the first bend, before laughter filled the room.
“Ain’t that adorable?” Applejack said. “That li’l filly’s got her first crush.”
“Of course it is, Applejack. You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to get those two together,” Rarity said. “Well done, Rainbow Dash. I never knew you could be so clever at manipulating a Pony like that.”
“Excuse me?” Rainbow Dash’s voice cracked. “I wasn’t doing anything! I just thought it’d be cool to have more blades in the wedding to annoy those puffed up wind bags.” She huffed, and her eyes narrowed, and her muzzle scrunched in anger. “I do not manipulate Ponies. That’s Discord’s job.”
“Oh, sorry, darling. I didn’t mean to cause offense. I just meant you helped Sweetie to actually get to a point where she actually had to act, instead of hesitating. You did an excellent job.”
“Oh, well, is that all? Aww shucks.” Rainbow rubbed her mane, mussing it all the more as she smiled. Then her brow furrowed. “I’m glad you think I’m so great and all that, Rarity, and I know I’m pretty cool . . . and all that, but there is one thing that’s still bugging me.”
“Yes, darling? What is it?” Rarity asked.
“What’s The Princess Bride?”
Grif sat at his desk, carefully sipping a cup of coffee as he waited. A half hour ago, Dagger Feather Scroll had returned from the empire with two more families of refugees at his tail. It was much as Grif had expected, and had confirmed some suspicions he’d been entertaining. Now he waited to confirm the rest.
Dagger entered calmly into Grif’s office as he tipped his head in respect to the clan leader. “You wished to see me?”
“Close the door, please, Dagger,” Grif said as he tapped the crystal on his desk.
Dagger did so respectfully, then walked up to stand before the desk, and silently waited.
“Before we begin, if you would kindly disarm,” Grif said.
He nodded his head. “Of course.” He calmly removed his daggers, the short sword Grif had given to him, and a plethora of other hidden ranged weapons to use in a pinch.
“So, Dagger Feather Scroll, why does a member of the Scro’tala faction of the Black Tips come to me with this ruse?” Grif asked.
“Pardon me, Sir?” Dagger asked. His tone was confused, but beneath it all, Grif could detect the slightest hint of worry.
“Drop the act, Dagger. Why are you here? You didn’t succeed the first time, so they figured they’d send someone in under my guard?”
Dagger saw Grif’s talon reaching for what was most likely a concealed weapon. He gulped, knowing only too well the legendary speed of the Avatar of Winds. It took less than a second for him to make his decision. He bowed low, and broke all pretense of ignorance. “We were looking for safe haven, Sir, honestly,” he swore hastily. “We’re a small faction with only two hundred active and retired members at most. We’re hunted by the other factions for choosing to depart from the traditional stance of our order. We fear the actions of the other factions will lead to the inevitable destruction of our branch, unless we act. Your compound is one of the few places on this world where it would be possible to live without fear of attack.
“We’re willing to trade information in exchange for our safety, if that’s what it takes. We can offer knowledge about our traditions and culture to your house, and even to the Demon. We just want to be able to live according to our conscience. The council disagrees with our choice, so we have been severed from the council, and a price has been put on our heads. Without the assistance of your clan, we will eventually perish, and our secrets with us.” He sighed, and lowered his head.
“So your plan was, what, slowly sneak in members and their families over the next few weeks? Months?” Grif asked in an even tone.
Dagger’s eyes shifted nervously, then he took a deep breath, and spoke. “That is correct. We wished to move slowly, without arousing concern or drawing attention. It’s not our wish to draw an attack on your compound. We just want to live on.”
“The last time I ended a conversation with one of your order, I killed him with with a broken coffee mug,” he said. His tail twitched, the only betrayal of any emotion his body would give. The very idea of Dagger’s offer was unsettling, but Grif couldn’t deny the value. Few, if any had ever had an idea of the inner workings of the Shadow Council and the Black Tip leaders. This was one of the oldest orders to exist in Gryphonia. They held skills, knowledge, and traditions older even than Celestia and Luna. “What assurance can you give me that I won’t regret this?”
Dagger gulped, and took a shaky breath. “As keeper of the order’s emblems, I swear on their safekeeping that we will be loyal to your blood, and those you call your blood, from now till the end of days. We don’t make that offer lightly. In exchange for our safety, we will protect your blood and teach those that wish, and who show promise, our knowledge freely. However, with our knowledge comes our oaths, laws, and commands. In many ways, the Black Tips are a nation within a nation. We cannot change those laws. However, as an added assurance, I have been instructed to inform you that, if necessary, we will even go so far as to allow one of your blood to marry into our leader’s line to tie our blood to your blood, with all that would entail.”
Grif stared silently at Dagger as he mulled over the proposal. His eyes remained neutral, his gaze pensive. It stayed like that for a tense five minutes. At last, Grif broke that gaze, and leaned back in his chair. “Very well, Dagger. I’m willing to let you and your sect enter into our protection, but I’ll need a proper list of possible enemies your kind have. We’re fortunate my captain was up to the task with your family, but we’re going to need a stronger guard for the next bunch,” Grif noted as he jotted something on a piece of parchment. “Also, you will each surrender your black tipped feather.”
“While those of us who can will, some of us cannot,” Dagger said with a regretful shake of his head. “They have the trait of the first black tips. The calling of the Winds has marked them for their task. To ask them of that would make them flightless. As for my black tip, it is back in the Empire in our branch’s safe haven. When it is brought over with the caravan,” he winced, “you will have it.”
“Then every one of you who can surrender theirs will do so. The minute this pact is sealed, Dagger, that part of your life is over. Is that understood?”
“I assume you mean the assassinations?”
Grif nodded.
“In that case, then yes. We can live without murdering for a while.” Dagger chuckled. “It may take some getting used to, though. Cloak and dagger is in our blood, you know.”
“I said the killing for money would have to stop, Dagger. I never said anything about your intelligence network.” Grif smirked at him, and winked.
“Oh, you are clever.” Dagger laughed. “You’ll have to ask each one of us to commit personally, until our leader can be smuggled out with the rest of the clan. He’s the only one with the authority to make the pact for all of us.”
“Then bring him to me as soon as you can,” Grif said as he stood up, and handed a parchment to Dagger. “This should give you access to the resources you’ll need.” His eyes hardened briefly. “And from now on, Dagger, no more lies. I think you know what will happen, if there are any.”
Dagger nodded his understanding. “I’ll do my best. I can’t speak for everyone else, though.”
Grif grunted. It would have to do for now. “Very well, Dagger. You can go. Leave whatever messages you brought for me on the desk, and go see your family. Help get the new people settled in.” Grif tapped the crystal again, and its light faded.
“Understood.” Dagger did as instructed, then turned to leave.
“And for the record, Dagger, next time you try to create an Equestrian identity, don’t use a weapon as a first name. Equestrians rarely use weapons first in their identities.”
“I’ll keep that in mind, though it may take some time to adjust to that,” Dagger said with a chuckle. “We’ll have a list of our real names included with the next arrival.”
“Excellent. That will be all, Dagger.”
“Yes, Sir.”
Twilight Sparkle stood in the yard, surrounded by the other Unicorns. A set of weighted horseshoes had been attached to her hooves, and she breathed heavily as sweat ran down her brow. She glared at Grif, who sat patiently on the other end of the yard. “What do you have next?” she asked.
Grif looked up from cleaning his talons, as he had been doing since she started attacking in this sparring match. “Oh, I’m sorry, did we start yet?” he asked mockingly.
Twilight snorted, but that was all she did this time. “Which attack are we going to practice, Grif? I’m not going to waste time trying to hit you. You and I both know I’m not anywhere near that level yet.”
“It’s not all about attacking, Twilight. At least, it’s not about charging dead ahead, and swinging until you hit the target. You literally just spent the last ten minutes wasting energy.”
“Well, you told me to show you the sets I’d memorized so far,” she pointed out. “You’re also the one who suggested I wear these weights,” she grumbled.
“And I expected that a thinker such as you would realize that, to show what you learned effectively, you’d need to realize when to attack.” Grif sighed. “This is a problem I’d have expected from Rainbow Dash.”
“Well, yesterday, Clover told me to not think as much, and be more instinct driven. It’s going to take me some time to find the right balance,” Twilight defended. “I have more data now, so I should be able to formulate some proper counters.”
“Do you dance, Twilight?” Grif asked.
“Grif, you were at the gala. You saw me on the dance floor. Do you really want me to show you here?”
“Then I think we’re going to have to start by teaching you how to dance.”
Applejack had been hoofing out some apples from a crate to promote her farm. Her precious cargo quickly spilled onto the ground as she heard those words. “I think facing a Hydra would be easier than teaching Twi to dance. Trust me, Grif, you have no idea what you’re getting yourself into.”
“If she were wielding a hammer or a club, I wouldn’t worry about it, but the blade is a weapon of elegance and refinement, no matter if it’s a spear, a glaive, a sword, a dagger or a knife. You won’t find a true warrior of the blade who cannot dance.” With those words, Grif executed several blade forms in quick elegant movements that made it appear he was dancing to some invisible music.
The sound of noisemakers and confetti appeared all over as Pinkie Pie popped out of Applejack’s apple barrel. “Show them what you’ve got, Twilight!” she cheered as she reached into the barrel, and pulled out a gramophone. Then she set the needle on the record, and began to play an upbeat song.
Twilight blushed, but nodded her head as she got into the beat, before she began to dance. Very . . . very . . . uniquely. Well, that would be the kind way of putting it. She was on her hind hooves doing what might loosely be called the monkey, well, more like the deranged monkey. Her limbs flailed as she jolted to the music. Soon the spectators had to dance or jump out of the way as she shifted, and swung her focus in time.
The gramophone cut out mercifully as Grif lifted the arm off the record. “I think I see the problem,” he said simply.
Twilight stopped, her tongue sticking out a little, her flank a little in the air and her left hoof out at an angle. Pinkie Pie took a picture of her pose. “Oh?” She asked as she slowly moved back to a normal stance on all four hooves.
“You’re not dancing,” Grif concluded. “You’re acting in the way you believe Ponies act when they dance. You're still thinking, but you're not feeling. You're trying to control the flow, rather than move with it.”
“I am?”
“Clearly.” Grif sighed. “Okay, listen, Twilight. When pinkie plays the music again, I want you to listen to the rhythm, and respond with what feels right, not something based on what you’ve read or seen. Let your body feel the rhythm. Let your heart beat with it.”
Pinkie Pie grinned as she pulled the record off, and spun it around on her hoof, before it fell perfectly onto the player, and the needle dropped, playing a new song.
Twilight listened first, she let it flow, and Grif saw a hoof begin to tap to the beat, followed by the swishing of her tail as she just tried to let her body sway. While it was still all over the place as she got into it, her body wasn’t quite so clumsy as before. One could almost say they could see a pattern developing. Not a very good pattern, but a pattern. If she had nunchucks tied to her body, she would make a very worrisome berserker, or possibly done a lot of harm to herself. It was difficult to say at this point.
Grif observed for several minutes, before he cut the music, and nodded. “You're starting to get it, but you’ve still got a ways to go. What time do you get up in the morning, Twilight?”
“That depends on if I have a late night study session, but usually around dawn. I was Celestia's personal student, after all. It kind of comes with the territory.”
“Tomorrow, meet Ping outside the library at dawn, then. I’m going to start you on a new series of exercises, and Ping should be able to teach you. They will help you learn to synch with your body’s own rhythm.”
“I’ll be there,” Twilight promised as she nodded determinedly.
“Now pick up that blade, and come at me again. We still have an hour to go.”
Twilight picked up her blade, took a series of deep breaths, entered into a proper stance, and took her time to analyze the Gryphon, before lunging forward to attack when Grif had looked away.
Grif couldn’t help but let out a tired sigh as she fell for the old ploy. They had a long way to go yet. The sound of her magic alerted him of her sudden teleport, and he blocked expertly. While it was still a technical miss, this was the closest she’d gotten so far, a mere four inches from hitting him. He let a small smile put at the edge of his beak. There might just be some hope for her, after all.
Princess Luna stood upon the burnt ground, surrounded by Thestrals with only their fur and harnesses attached for the work that was to come. All were ready to start rebuilding the lodge. She closed her eyes, and as Celestia lowered her sun, she began to raise her moon, full and bright as the stars began to glow. As she finished setting the course for the night, she looked upon the Thestrals, and smiled at the two Pegasus stallions who had decided to join the festivities. It seemed the mares had them wrapped around their hooves quite nicely.
“Tonight, we rebuild what was lost in the Changeling advance. This building, which we erect with our own hooves, will stand as an important part of Thestral culture in New Unity. It will be a place for important meetings, and sacred rites. Each tribe knows what to do, but as we have a few who wish to join us in our ways, we will explain the various designations. The Viper Tribe will dig the foundations, the Bear Tribe shall haul the wood, and help with splitting it. The Wolf Tribe shall act as guards to protect the perimeter while we work. The Dragon Tribe will play music to keep us occupied, and to add a sense of merriment to the ceremony. The Fox Tribe will hunt for game, and cook it to feed the workers. The Manticore Tribe will work on ceremonial carvings and carpentry for the interior, and the Lions shall work on the roof and the carvings for the exterior. Is everypony ready to begin?” she asked. When the Thestrals all nodded in ascent, she smiled, and nodded her head. “Then let the building commence!”
The Thestrals quickly dispersed, and the sound of axes and saws at work soon echoed through the forest.
“Commander Pensword, Lunar Fang, Fox Feather, if you could please assist your High Chieftess with supervision, she would appreciate it.”
Pensword and Lunar Fang bowed. “I apologize, High Chieftess, but Fox Feather is indisposed, helping take care of the foals. However it would be our honor to assist you.
Luna smiled. “This pleases me greatly. I am grateful to know Fox Feather is taking to motherhood so well.”
The happy couple beamed with pride. Then Pensword let his eyes wander towards the two Pegasi. It seemed they had been given the task of hauling food to the foals, while Fox Feather helped to keep them occupied. He sighed regretfully. It was a pity she couldn’t participate in the building, but until the hall was finished, she couldn’t be properly inducted. So, while she was an honorary member of the tribe by marriage, she still had to wait for the rest. Still, Fox Feather had already proven just how long she was willing to wait when it came to Pensword. She could manage a few measly nights.
Luna hovered a locked chest in her magic with a worried frown. At last, that frown hardened into a look of resolve and acceptance as she turned to the couple, and set the chest down before them. Its surface was immaculately carved and painted the colors of the night. Minor stones and gems had been embedded to give luster and sparkle to the emblems of the star beasts from the tribe. Her own cutie mark sealed the lid shut. “Lunar Fang, as part of your duties, I would like you to guard this stone from the first cave, until the lodge is finished.”
Lunar Fang’s eyes widened in surprise, but she did as she was bade, and climbed upon the chest, before crouching in an attack stance. None would take this treasure from them while she was on guard.
“That is also why I asked you to the come,” Luna said sadly. “When I and my guards cleaned out the rubble, we couldn’t find the first stone. I fear Chrysalis may have taken it for study.” She spat angrily at the ground, the memory of the Ursa Major’s death still vivid in her mind.
Pensword tasted blood in his mouth as he bit his lip to keep the string of curses at bay. “I will endeavor to find and recover the stone from her clutches. No one takes the stone as a trophy.” He narrowed his gaze. “I think I shall make sure Clover puts a preservation spell on Crystalis’ head as well, so it may hang, and remind us all of the duty before us and our children. We will return the stolen home.”
Luna nodded her head in thanks, then smiled. “But now is not the time to dwell on such things. Now is the time to build for the future. Come, come and see what I have planned. It may not be so grand as what we have in Ys, nor can it hope to replace the hallowed grounds of home, but it shall hearken back to when first we and the Thestrals marched as one.”
“What do you–?” Pensword turned confusedly, and froze in shock as he looked to the area where the lodge had once stood. His eyes widened as he finally recognized the place for what it was. How had he missed it before? Over a thousand years ago, he and his people had gathered in this very spot as Luna marshalled them to war for the first time under her banner. Few here would appreciate the significance of that fact, but he knew at least one who would. He turned to look towards Moon Biter, who had been carefully studying a sketch of one of the carvings she would need to make, and using a wood planer to shave off some of the wood. She stopped momentarily, looked at the drawing again, then stared up at the castle in surprise as she hastened to blink back the tears that threatened to overflow. The Gryphon Slayers may not have recognized it before, but they surely would after the structure had been rebuilt and dedicated. Pensord would make certain of that.
He approached Moon Biter, and placed a supportive hoof on her shoulder, then looked down at the sketch. It portrayed the head of an Ursa Major, with Luna’s crescent moon on the forehead, instead of the star. He knew where this carving would go, and exactly where it would point. He felt a familiar pang in his heart as he thought back to the mountains, and the caves from whence they had come so very long ago.
An hour later, Pensword was walking through the woodworking camp, observing as panels were carved and chiseled. Various depictions of their history slowly came to life under the dedicated hooves of the Manticore Tribe: Princess Luna in her battle against the Ursa Major, the pleading before the tribes on the behalf of Equestria. Pensword blushed, and blinked back tears as he spied a depiction of a familiar young stallion with moonstones arrayed in an arc in front of him. True to Luna’s word, this lodge would be an impressive monument to their unity, for it was to become an embodiment of their history, a living archive. He watched as the Thestrals worked to widen the foundation, and dig deeper than the first lodge had been, and smiled. The public history would remain above for all to see who would visit, but the sacred things, those events closest to Thestra hearts and traditions, would be kept in the catacombs that even now were being dug. He smiled, and left the wood workers to their tears. Whether they came from pride, or from the sorrowful task of recording Luna’s fall, he did not know, but he would leave them to it. They had that right.
The Fox Tribe soon returned from their hunt, and each of the parties took their turn eating. First came the young, who ate eagerly, and then were quickly put to bed in little depressions they had dug for themselves earlier that evening. Furs and pelts were laid over them to keep them warm as they slept, well, with four exceptions. Moon River and her new brothers were giving their keepers a run for their money, and then some.
A Pegasus stallion marched up to Pensword with Moon River nomming his left ear, and Day Moon doing the same for his right. His bandana had been wrapped around his neck, allowing his mane to flow freely. His silver eyes glowed in the moonlight as he smiled mischievously. Cristo and Inigo both struggled to hold back their prey, which just happened to be the stallion’s legs, and they giggled all the while, much to their target’s frustration. Clearly, he was not amused.
A laugh came from behind as Princess Luna stepped out from the shadows. “So, at last I meet the whispers of the Thestral mares properly: he who is moon kissed, who bears the eyes to burn out evil wherever he looks, and you and your brothers all blessed by the White Wolf to stand in the dark, and guide the lost.” She leaned down, and nuzzled the younglings. Moon River booped the princess on the nose, as was her usual behavior. Inigo and Cristo looked up with fiendish grins all children their age bore when they were up to mischief. Meanwhile, Day Moon reared backwards, then struck with a hard nip at Luna’s nose.
A gasp rang from the Ponies nearby, but Luna simply smiled as the blood oozed from the bite, and raised her head high. “When this one comes of the age for training, he shall be trained by Grif in the techniques of monster hunting that the human, Taze, left behind, so that this one may become the first hunter since my fall to guard against those that worship the Nightmare, and feast upon Pony blood for their power. As the Great Wolf hunted those that fell and flocked to the side of the Nightmare upon her birth, so shall he also fight them.” She looked happily upon Day Moon, who still had his fangs bared. “Great is he who willingly bites the nose of one who is stronger,” she whispered conspiratorially. With a minor glow from her horn, her wound healed, but she left two white dots that only those who examined closely would be able to see. “To mark your first attack,” she said as she winked at him. Day Moon smiled, and winked back.
With that exchange complete, Luna turned her attentions to the Pegasus. “You shall be compensated for your wet ears, but. . ..” She paused as she realized all four foals had up and vanished. “And they’re gone.” She giggled. “Pensword, your children shall be a good influence for the coming generation. Methinks little Moon River will reinvigorate the old ways in ways that the Thestrals have not shown for generations. Truly, it is good that you are to become your own clan tonight. For this way, the Wolf Tribe can have as much say and claim to Day Moon as your own Bear Tribe.”
“What?” Pensword balked. “But . . .how? I thought legend says that the Wolf Tribe should care for one as blessed as Day Moon.”
“And remove him from his siblings?” Flurry Fang asked. “He would resent us more for taking away the rest of his family. Never before have we had a moon kissed born as sibling to fellows gifted by the white wolf.” He smiled like a wolf laughing at a joke. “Besides, why should we take away the moon’s gift to your clan?”
Pensword looked flatly at Flurry Fang, but said nothing. “I shall be hunting for my foals.” He felt a weight on his back and turned his his head to see Cristo’s uncontrollable black mane and tail. Then he felt a wing tip started to play with a tip of his long mane. He saw that as a sign. “Don’t worry, my son. You are special as well. Someday, when you come of age, and battle of wits lies in your future, none shall stand before you, unless you let them.” He smiled at the small brief smirk that formed on the boy’s muzzle, and was shocked at how easily he had taken to calling them his sons. “Now do you know where. . .?” He stopped as Cristo shook his head, but the eyes twinkling with suppressed mirth told another story.
Pensword chuckled. “Very well. Run along, and play havoc with the sitters. Just don’t get into too much mischief, all right?”
Cristo took to a long gilding leap, then trotted away on foot. A discreet wing signal on Pensword’s part had two mares head in the opposite direction from Cristo to find the troublemakers. Unfortunately, it was too late to stop the surprise attack as all were suddenly peppered by a barrage of toy bolts. Seconds later, they found the foals nestled in their holes as if they’d never left. After a proper round of laughter, the rest of the construction carried on with a brightness of hope for the future.
As the moon started to set, the shingles, which had been carefully carved to look like Dragon Scales, were placed, the carvings and artifacts were carried inside with the sleeping foals, and, somehow, they managed to fit the entire construction crew as well. While Fox Feather was allowed in, since she was an honorary Thestral, the Pegasus stallions were ordered to either stand watch or sleep, if they chose. Either way, they would have to do it outside the structure. With everyone gathered inside, the doors were closed and barred. The stallions did their best to remain awake, but with a little help from the dream walkers, they were soon in slumber. The Thestrals smirked as they quietly unbarred the doors, and pulled the sleeping Ponies in to join the rest of the crew, before closing the doors, just as the sun rose over the horizon to touch the completed structure.
When the moon rose again, the Thestrals exited, and Pensword had officially been set apart as the head of Clan Pen. The tribes spoke softly around, bidding one another farewell, and, while Princess Luna and the remaining troops of her personal guard prepared to leave, the other Thestrals moved to return to their homes.
The shadow skulked from its place beneath the boughs of the Everfree, and quivered in anticipation as the Thestrals dispersed. Now was the time. It dashed silently toward the structure’s gates, only to hiss angrily as it made contact with the doors. Moon-touched silver, a sacred blessing. The creature would not be able to pass. It prepared to pass on to the castle, when three loud hisses drew its attention, and it froze. There, silhouetted in the rising light of the moon, three pairs of white bat wings spread, three pairs of eyes glowed blue, green, and silver. The creature fell to the ground, and the rustling of the leaves heralded its retreat as it fled. The master would not be pleased with its report, but the master had to be warned. It prayed to the abyss it would not suffer like the last shadow to come back empty.
Clover sat patiently, waiting for the assembled Unicorns in front of her to find their places, and settle in. It had been over a month since her first lesson, and yet, it still took them too long to get ready.
Vital Spark sighed from his place at his table up front, and rolled his eyes. “Just like high school,” he muttered.
“Don’t they know who they’re dealing with?” Trixie whispered back.
“I get the feeling they’ll be finding out soon enough,” Vital whispered back. “Clover’s never this lenient for very long. And she’s smiling. She must have a trick up her sleeves that we don’t know about.”
“You call that falling in? That was a disgrace! Now I want you all to run back to the courtyard, and then come back in formation like real guardsmen!” a voice shouted from a side chamber as a bright blue crest glinted in the light. The torches reflected off the proud stallion’s mane and coat as he stepped boldly to join Clover’s side. The crest of his house seemed almost to glow with its familiar lavender sheen. Shining Armor had come to New Unity.
“S-sir!” one of the recruits stared wide-eyed as he struggled to form a proper sentence.
“Did I stutter, Private? I said move!” Shining barked as his horn ignited with his magic. In a matter of moments, a wall of force pushed itself out towards the Ponies, passing over chairs, desks, and other materials like they weren’t even there, but forcing the soldiers to cluster closer and closer to the door, until there was no room left. The door in question opened with Clover’s assistance, then slammed shut again as several yelps indicated the spell had continued to run its course.
Vital Spark grinned as he raced up to the former captain. “Shining! It’s great to see you again,” he enthused as he shook the stallion’s hoof vigorously.
“Well, Clover asked me to come give a lecture on barrier spells. I figured she’d appreciate a little help getting things moving more smoothly, too.”
“Definitely. Admittedly, after all that’s happened here recently, I’m surprised these Ponies are being so carefree.” Vital sighed. “I’m guessing you already heard about that, though.”
“Well, it’s pretty hard to miss more than a few of your unmarried stallions and mares hopping a train, and heading to Ponyville.” Shining’s ears lowered “I’m sorry for the losses you all faced.”
“It’s going to take everyone time to recover, I would think. I just hope the nobles don’t go up in arms over this. If anything, it’s more reason to get these troops trained right. If it weren’t for the more experienced ones keeping everything in order, that battle could’ve taken a very different path, with a very different outcome.” Vital Spark took a deep breath, and sighed. “Sorry, sorry. I know we probably should be focusing more on life than death. How’s Cadence doing?”
“She’s fine.” Shining nodded. “She was just bogged down with work right now.”
“So how soon till she’s expecting?” Vital asked with a mischievous smirk.
Mercifully, the door opened, and the Unicorns began filing in in a more disciplined manner. In a matter of seconds, the room was full, with each Unicorn sitting at the ready with their focus in front of them. Shining Armor nodded. “That’s much better. From now on, I expect you to assemble to your classes with the same discipline. If not, I will hear about it. Is that clear?”
“Yes, Sir!” the troops shouted together.
“Now I’m betting you’re all wondering why I’m here. Your teacher, Clover the Clever, didn’t call me about your lack of respect and discipline, though I wouldn’t fault her, if she had,” he said as he fixed them with a glare She called me here, today, to help instruct your ignorant plots about barrier and shield spells.”
“Ooh, this is gonna be good,” Vital whispered to himself excitedly. Trixie giggled at his somewhat childish behavior. He looked almost like a foal in a candy store.
Over the next hour, Shining Armor proceeded to lecture the guards on the finer points of shield spells. For once, his relation to Twilight was evident as he went into long-winded explanations, bringing up highly complex quotes from works by other Unicorn mages. At every fifteen minute point, he proceeded to quiz random troops on what he had been talking about, to make sure they’d been paying attention. One guard who’d fallen asleep during the class had received a very rude awakening in the form of a bath of ice water contained in an open-topped spherical shield.
Vital Spark winced. “Ouch,” he hissed. “So that’s what it’s like in boot camp.”
“Now then. Does anybody have any questions?” Shining Armor scanned the room.
“When do we perform the practical?” Vital asked.
“That will be the next class,” Clover spoke up for the first time.
“So we just study the theory until then?”
“The theory is the most important thing right now,” Shining Armor said. “Most Unicorns can throw up a barrier, but few can make it hold for the type of fire you're likely to face on the battlefield.”
“Why is that, anyways?” Vital asked curiously.
“Why is what?” Shining asked.
“Why is it that so few Unicorns can sustain a proper defensive barrier like yours or Clover’s?”
“Because all they're doing is providing a repelling force, not an actual wall.”
“So, even though it looks like a shield, and acts similar to the shield, it’s a different animal entirely?”
“Essentially, yes. A real shield is a wall created from magical energy,” Shining Armor explained. “Stronger shields are faceted.”
“Faceted? What do you mean by that?”
Shining Armor created a shield, which, at first, appeared like a normal dome. He then proceeded to concentrate, and, slowly, small hexagonal shapes began to grow visible as they expanded over the surface. Soon the whole shield resembled a gem.
“So once we master the formulae, and get the spell matrix fixed properly in our memories, these barriers should become second nature?” Vital asked.
Shining Armor nodded. “That's the jist of it.”
“I’m surprised nobles and others haven’t mastered it, then. You’d think they’d want a power like this, if most Unicorns don’t know how to use it properly. Then again, I guess we should be thankful they haven’t.” He winced as he looked back at the other recruits. “Present company excluded, of course.”
The other guards sweatdropped, and clover facehoofed.
Vital Spark chuckled nervously. “Uh . . . sorry?”
Trixie shook her head in utter disbelief. “And Trixie thought she wasn’t tactful.”
Extended Holiday Ch 111: ...About that Pip-Boy... Act 16
The great assembly hall for the House of Nobles was filled with yawns as members of varying classes filed slowly in. The torchlight reflected off the metal arches, and refracted through the crystals and jewels embedded into their ornate design. The curtains had been drawn over the stained glass windows above, and the twin thrones awaited their owners as the nobles continued to mumble, and otherwise mutter or murmur their disgruntlement over being summoned so early in the morning that Celestia had yet to even raise the sun. The padded cushions before each tiered table were gradually filled, and, finally, a very tired looking Platinum made a dignified approach to the stand.
“Lords and Ladies of the House of Nobles, as chairpony of this collective body, I now call this meeting to order. By order of the Princesses, all nobles are to be present, and the doors are to be sealed, until we are otherwise dismissed. All nobles who have dared to disregard this summons will face severe consequences, including increased taxes, a distinct cutoff of staff, seizure of lands, and any other punishments our diarchs should deem fit. Let the audience commence.” Platinum brought down her hoof with a solitary bang on the silver dish.
One of the nobles at the top, not knowing that the sound spells were all active at every seat, spoke up. “Why so early? This is the domain of the moon, not the sun, and we are the nobles of the Sun.” The high pitched whine rang through the courts, carried by the low murmur of the other voices.
“As it was a royal summons,” Fancy pants interjected, “I don’t think your objection matters, Lady Facet.” Then he turned back to the lower tiers, and nodded respectfully to the speaker.
There was, however, one noble couple who were feeling particularly nervous with Fancy Pants sitting on one side, and High Dutchess Platinum on the other. Twilight Velvet and Night Light both shook at the daggers the older families glared at them, but it was where their names had been placed, so they had to comply. Their vocal amplification spell stones were inactive as the two spoke amongst themselves, doing their best to ignore the particularly venomous glare from Blueblood across the way.
Baron Blueblood had certainly had better mornings. His normally-carefully-coiffed mane was frizzled, and popping out. A set of bags bunched under his eyes. His voice carried in the lower region, but not the higher. “I will have words with the committee. They’ve placed the mid-tier nobles too low again. I guess some poor Pony will be on the streets looking for work outside of Canterlot.” He got a few laughs from some of the gathering, but most of them were too tired to let themselves join. Twilight Velvet and Night Light both looked nervously at one another. They didn’t want somepony to lose their position over a little mixup like this. Surely something could be done.
“I wouldn’t worry too long about that, Blueblood,” Hammer Strike commented as he rolled his eyes.
Suddenly, a blinding light filled the room as a hot wind blasted the faces of everypony present. The curtains were torn aside, and the radiance of the light sent the images out onto the overcast clouds above like a signal as the figure within slowly descended. Gradually, that light coalesced into a rainbow corona as the princess of the Sun stomped her hooves to call order. Flickers of red like solar flares blew off, before rejoining the main mass of compressed magic. She spread her wings, and the radiance blinded nearly everypony there as a beam of magic shot out her horn, through the ceiling, and into the sky above. Moments later, a heavy detonation exploded above the castle, shaking the room.
“Do I have everypony’s attention?” Celestia asked. Her tone was cool, calm, practically emotionless. A collective shudder ran through the court. “Good. Let me start out with a simple question. Doubtless, you’re all wondering why I’ve invoked my royal authority, after letting it sit by for well over a millennium of peace. So, why do you think I’ve called you all here, hmm?”
An almost perfect silence fell over the gathering. Some few whispers passed here or there, but none dared answer.
“Count Facet, why don’t you speak?” Platinum asked, after the silence had carried on for a good three minutes.
“Uh. . ..” Facet gulped. “I don’t know.” He started to sweat. If he were anything less than his current station, he likely would have been running for his life. This was not the Celestia they had come to know over their lives.
A sudden deluge of frigid water dropped from above, soaking his good vest, and sopping his glittering green mane. “Truly, you are an inspiration to us all, Facet. You must be such an asset to your family name. Perhaps that will help to clear your mind better.” Celestia turned her gaze to the rest of the House. And what of the rest of you, children? Can anypony else deduce a reason?”
The rest of the Ponies were utterly silent.
“Normally, I am not nearly so forward, as I’m certain you are well aware,” Celestia continued. “However, even my tolerance has its limits, and just a little over a week ago, I received word of an act so deplorable, so unscrupulous, so irresponsible and selfish that even Discord himself would be appalled.” Celestia slammed her hoof into the ground, sending several cracks through the expensive tiling, and causing the room to fill with the ringing of her metal horseshoes. “BRING IN THE WITNESS!” she boomed, and half the body of the House were blown from their seats.
The chamber erupted in chaos and pandemonium, and even threats, as Weight and Measure entered the chamber. He remained silent and composed, his body poised. He had known this verbal onslaught would come. Even with Platinum slamming a hoof on her own gavel, the place wouldn’t calm down. That soon changed as every noble in the room suddenly found their lips locked shut in a magical grip.
“I will have order,” Celestia said with narrowed eyes. “I have waited far too long, left too many of you to your own devices, and now I learn of the consequences of that choice. The rest of the houses shall learn as well. No more skeletons in the closet. No more cloak and dagger. No more shadow games.” She leveled her glare at Blueblood as she let loose a whisper as cold as the sun is hot. “No. More.” She turned to the Pony, and drew herself up to her full height as smoke rose up from her mane. “State your name and your occupation for the record.”
“My name is Count Weight and Measures, Your Highness. Myself and my family have always been record keepers for the noble families of Canterlot in the area regarding lineage.”
“And what have you to tell us of the events on the night of this past Monday?”
“First off, I would like to state, for the record, that I am not proud of what I’ve done, nor what my family has done. For the past few years, I have been receiving constant requests for ways to make foals vanish from family lines for being ‘unseemly.’ As you may be aware, Your Highness, this is the term a noble generally uses to refer to a child they have produced outside of their established marriage. In this case, it has been near wholly in the aftermath of inappropriate interactions with Thestral servants or other staff. In response to this request, or pressure, if you prefer, I have bribed, blackmailed, and threatened mares and stallions alike to disappear with the foal in question, or else become reclusive enough to remain outside the public eye, and, therefore, not be associated with the parent nobility. However, on the Friday before the Monday in question, I was approached by a select group of nobles with an ultimatum to be discharged no later than the following Monday.”
“And what was the nature of this ultimatum?” she asked.
Weight and Measure bowed his head as he held to his bowler hat. “I was to arrange for the remnants of this group, in their entirety, to be transported, unseen, to New Unity, with a contingent of half-Thestral foals. Once there, I was to arrange for the Lunar Court to take these illegitimate foals into their care. In doing this, I would receive a large retainer of bits. If I refused, I would be jailed for the crimes committed by my predecessors, and myself, where no one would ever find me or hear the truth.”
“And who, pray tell, were these nobles?” Celestia asked.
“I have submitted a full list to the Solar Guard, Your Majesty. It would take far too long for me to list them all.”
“A ballpark estimate will do nicely, Mister Measure,” Celestia said in a clipped tone. Her mane glowed brighter as she looked about the assembly with calculating eyes.
“Thirty five, maybe forty nobles, Your Majesty.”
“That many.” She raised her brows dramatically, even as golden energy rippled around them like licking flames. “And imagine how many foals must have been born from those actions. Double at the very least, I should think. That many foals. That many children without a home, without love, without family.” Celestia’s hoof smashed down onto the floor, causing several cracks to spread out from the epicenter of her blow. “A parent who cannot honor such a stewardship knows nothing of sacrifice, nothing of harmony, nothing of caring for my little Ponies!” The colors on her mane blurred together, becoming a bright white light. Flashes of magic leapt off it, then back in again as her eyes began to glow, and tears streaked down her cheeks. “You know nothing of the pain you cause.”
“Aiding this abominable act shall be my gravest regret, until the day I die, Your Majesty.”
“I wasn’t talking to you, Weight and Measure.” She began to circle the floor as her eyes passed over each of the nobles as flames licked up like fetlocks from her hooves, and singes stained the ground. “I am referring to all of you.” Her voice boomed over the collective. “It’s clear that I have been too lenient over the last thousand years. That ends today.” Her tail burst into flame as her golden regalia glowed red.
While many Ponies nodded numbly, Twilight Velvet couldn’t help but be reminded of Twilight’s temper tantrums as a foal. But this was on another scale entirely.
“My sister and I have counseled together on the matter, and, while I have the jurisdiction over the Solar Court, the foals in question are to become her responsibility. As such, she has a stake in this as well. The both of us agree. The older houses have grown far too complacent. You play political games with one another more than you care about governing your own people. It is clear that a change is necessary. Several changes, in fact. Actions have consequences, and the price this time will be very steep.
“As some of you were so perceptive to notice, several lesser nobles have been lowered a few tiers in the seating arrangements. These are individuals who have cared for their charges, demonstrated high moral fiber, and a sincere desire to help our nation grow and develop as a whole. For these traits, we have seen fit to grant them new titles with greater responsibility. As for how we could possibly do this, well, that should be rather obvious to you schemers, I should think.” Celestia fixed the crowd with a malevolent smirk.
“You . . . you wouldn’t,” Peacock Feather gasped. Baron Blueblood looked visibly pale, which was quite miraculous, considering his coat was already white.
“I would. It is within the crown’s authority, when its vassals displease it, to revoke or reduce the gifts it has bestowed. I invoke that right here and now. Those lords and ladies found on that list will experience a significant reduction to their lands, with few, if any exceptions. Those territories will then be redistributed as I see fit to the houses I’ve promoted, starting with House Velvet. You can be rest assured that I intend to take a much closer look at the rest of your dealings, lords and ladies. There will be neither stone nor bit left unturned.” She flipped her mane backwards, and it flared upwards towards the ceiling, before returning to its normal size again. “Oh, and one more thing. Those nobles responsible for this mess will be paying a hefty sum to the Lunar Courts. You will support your children, whether you choose to acknowledge them or not.”
This caused some shouts from a few of the braver nobles.
“You can’t just bully us like this!” Upper Crust put forward.
“SILENCE!”
The Royal Canterlot Voice nearly burst the eardrums of the House of Nobles as Celestia glared. “I have every right to place these restrictions on you, Upper Crust, and it is a just punishment. Be grateful this didn’t happen during the war. Back then, whole houses were eradicated. As it stands, I’m putting you and your friends on probation. You may be able to earn those lands back, if you prove worthy of them. Until then, they will go to those who are.” Celestia slammed her hoof on the floor again, filling the air with the ring of a sledgehammer. “You will each be receiving notice of the changes in due course, delivered to your homes. Until this judicial action is properly carried out, I am hereby suspending all future meetings within the House of Nobles. You are dismissed.” With a casual toss of her head, and a brief flare from her horn, the doors were unsealed, and opened.
As nobles filed out, Upper Crust and Jet Set attempted to look to the Count and Countess Clear Spring, whom they had been subtly befriending in hopes of arranging a match for one of their foals. The mare and stallion walked past as though they didn’t even recognize them.
As the last of the nobles filed out, escorted by the guards, Celestia sighed, and let the flames slowly die as she reverted to her usual form. “Oh, my little Ponies, where did I go wrong?” In that moment, she appeared to age over a thousand years in a second. Her wings draped against the ground, and her head bowed towards the ground as her tears struck the floor.
A hoof was placed on her back as Hammer Strike moved close. “I’m certain this wasn’t entirely in your hooves from the start. Individuals such as they would act this way, no matter what happened. All that would change is how they did it, and I find this to be a better option than what some would do.”
“I was so tempted to, Hammer Strike. I could have done terrible things to them. Imprison them in a living nightmare, freeze them in dark crystal, destroy them and all trace of their houses from existence. It would have been so easy with how angry I felt, how angry I still feel.”
“Yet you held your temper, and took a calmer course of action. This is a punishment that will not be over in an instant, nor in a year. This will be with them for potentially generations to come. Thus you can gain your control once more, and ensure something like this will not happen again.”
“I wonder,” she said tiredly.
“I’m sure of it.”
Celestia sighed. “I need a drink.”
“I’ve got some Dwarven ale,” Hammer Strike offered.
“Some what?”
“Oh, yeah. I found Dwarves under New Unity that I somehow helped bring back from the brink of extinction.”
Celestia stared, dumbstruck for a time. Then she blinked, and snapped out of her sudden stupor. “I wondered why the giant tassel worms were going extinct.”
Lighting Dust ducked into the tent near the site Hammer Strike and the city planners had set aside for the Hall of Paragons. She was, admittedly, curious on how this site would develop, and what differences it would have from the one in Cloudsdale. Obviously, there wouldn’t be nearly so many clouds, but as for the other changes, she would have to ask around. “Excuse me. Is anypony in here?”
“We can’t use cloud this close to the ground,” a voice shouted from inside the tent. “It’ll disperse into fog. We need marble.”
“Marble would be ludicrous for this project. We’d have to import it for the quantity needed, and we’re too far out of the way.” As Lighting Dust entered, she noticed a group of Pegasi and Earth Ponies clustered around a table she assumed held the blueprints for the hall’s design. With the Everfree’s unique magical makeup, Pensword had insisted on a joint effort between Pegasi and Earth Ponies to ensure the building would be properly sound.
Lighting Dust still looked irritated at the thought of the Earth Ponies working on something so central to her tribe’s culture, but the Commander’s words still rang in her ears from when he’d overheard her complaints last time. With that still sharply in mind, she decided to hang back, and listen to the discussion.
“Well marble is the closest thing we have to clouds. What do you suggest we use, wood and dirt?” one of the Pegasi growled.
“Sir, we could cut, shape, and move maybe half a dozen pillars of this size in the time frame you’ve presented with our resources. But seventeen? That would take over a year to get them all here,” Shape Sculptor, a large stoney-grey Earth Pony with a dust-colored mane spoke up. “Not to mention the stone for the foundations to hold them all.”
“Then we can just extend the timeframe to a year,” a mare said authoritatively. The badge on her work jacket was shaped like a laurel surrounding a pair of lightning bolts, clearly indicating her calling from the Paragon Council. “As for our transport issues, I’ve been promised the use of the Gantrithor to help carry the larger items where we need them in a more timely manner. We simply have to give them enough advanced notice.”
“Do we really need to provide the empty pedestals for the forgotten paragons, though?” another Earth Pony asked. “I mean, if they’re forgotten, then how do you even know if you have the right number of pedestals in the first place?”
The Pegasus groaned, and shook her head. “The ten pedestals represent the ten virtues most valued in our culture, and in Paragons in general. They also symbolize the forgotten warriors, each to their specific attribute. If we can’t make enough room for them on the ground, we can carve them into the walls and alcoves as needed. They just need to be there.”
“I still don’t think we can make the whole thing out of marble. It’s too cold, and too easily degraded in these conditions. Get something acidic enough, and the structure would quickly lose its luster. Marble in the interior would work well, but we definitely need a different material for the exterior structure,” Saw Horse, a sandy Earth Pony with a bright yellow mane said.
“What would you suggest, then?” A Pegasus stallion asked with a snort. “If you have a problem, give a solution.”
“Look, I know this is important to you, and it ruffles your feathers to think this has to be built on the ground, but all we’re trying to do is present you with the facts. We don’t want a fight,” Shape Sculptor said. “We could try using granite. It comes in a variety of shades and colors, and it weathers much better in most conditions.”
“Then granite it is,” the mare said with a tone of finality to her voice as she looked pointedly at the Pegasus. “And Storm Mane, try to keep a lid on those thunderbolts of yours. These Ponies are trying to help us, not insult us.”
The Pegasus’ face darkened like a thundercloud as he puffed his cheeks, and snorted, but nothing more came of it as the mare in charge returned to the task at hand. “Just how long is it going to take to get ahold of this granite?”
Lightning Dust smiled as she slowly backed out from the tent. Best to leave them be for now. Besides, it sounded like they had things pretty well in hoof.
“Athena, put the stiletto down,” Grif said carefully as he looked across to the young Gryphon with a knife in her hand. “Those are daddy’s toys. You're not ready for those yet.”
Athena growled, then pouted, then threw the knife up into the air, where it severed a rope that released its grip to send a counterweight onto a plank that had been carefully balanced with a bucket of water that was promptly sent flying into the air, before turning over exactly above the Gryphon’s body to get him perfectly soaked. Then Athena giggled, and clapped her talons together.
“You’re a few weeks old. How, in the North Wind’s name, did you even get a bucket up there?” He wiped some of the soaked water off his head, and went to retrieve his stiletto from its place in the ceiling.
Athena just laughed in response.
“Grif? Is everything alright in there?” Shrial’s voice carried from the Kitchen.
“Shrial, our daughter, who isn’t even a month old yet, is setting elaborate traps,” Grif said.
“Oh, is that all? I thought I saw Moon River flying by earlier.”
“My god daughter and my real daughter are plotting against me. I’m not sure if I’m feeling fear or pride right now.”
“Why don’t you focus on the pride for now, and come try some of this venison I’m cooking? I decided to take a page from that recipe book you brought through, and try a take on that Philly Cheesesteak. If it weren’t for the different spelling, I may have been tempted to burn the book.”
“Yeah? Well I can’t get another one, if you do.” Grif chuckled as he picked Athena up, and placed her on his back. “Now where's that sister of yours?”
A sharp nip on one of his hind legs soon answered that question.
Grif turned to look at Gentle Wing. “Come on. You’re Pappa’s good girl, right? You don’t have any mean traps in store for Pappa,” he said nervously.
Gentle Wing just laughed as she tried to climb her way up onto Grif’s back. Finally, Grif took pity on her, and grabbed her by the scruff of her neck, before placing her next to her sister.
“I’m almost scared to think about when they're old enough to fly.” Grif chuckled as he walked up to Shrial, and gave her a peck on the cheek.
“What more could you expect, when you’re dealing with our kids?” she asked playfully as she handed a lean slice of the meat for him to try.
He took a bite, and purred with enjoyment. “It’s perfect.”
“I haven’t even added the cheese yet, honey.” She giggled as she dropped the freshly shredded mozzarella into the pan, and stirred with the onions and vegetables. “Could you grab the buns over there?”
He nodded as he walked over to them. “So what's with your cooking kick lately?” he asked.
“With teats like this, it’s not like I can do much else at the moment,” Shrial said as she pointed down to her midriff.
Grif blushed at this comment, though the Gryphon part of him was never sure why. “Fair enough, I suppose.”
“Once the girls are past nursing, I might do this every once in awhile, just so you don’t have to,” she said. “But don’t expect it all the time, lover boy. Avalon and I can’t afford to let you get too lax, after all,” she said with a smirk.
“Never planned it. Still, I’ll expect you to get in shape as soon as they're done. Can’t have my best fighter off longer than necessary.”
“I wonder, are you talking for the battle field, or the bedroom?”
“I remember a time when you were the one who blushed,” Grif said, even as his black features turned somewhat purple. “I noticed you requested to be on the roster to take the fledges out for the first hunt. You sure you’ll be able to handle that?” Taking Gryphons on their first hunt was an emotionally trying period, because the adults could only interfere if something else attacked the would-be hunters. If their own prey turned on them, it was do or die in the literal sense.
“I’ll have to get used to it some time,” she pointed out. “Might as well get it over with now.”
“As long as you're sure.” Grif nodded. “So, any word from your cousin?”
“Not since we got word from Daedalus. “I’m guessing he’s probably part of the team that’s worming out the last traitors from the coup.”
“It’s not weird with him having your father's name, is it?”
Shrial shrugged as she served the steaks on the toasted bread. “It just is, Grif. That’s how our culture worked back then.”
“So where is Avalon? Still studying?” Grif looked around. “You’d figure she’d be hungry.”
“She’s too busy planning her trip to that tower of yours. Apparently, a certain someone who lives at the monastery told her she needed to study more?”
“She’s planning that trip already? I figured we’d be considering that for after the baby arrives.”
“Well, she is going to have a lot of time to study, when she gets far enough along. Maybe she just wants to be prepared?”
Grif nodded. “There is a question I’ve been meaning to ask.”
“You mean other than the ones you’ve been asking already? My, you are talkative today,” she said with a chuckle.
“Normally it’s the first born in the clan that are the heirs. Does it upset you that I’ve decided to wait before naming mine?”
“Grif, after everything we’ve been through, why do you think I’d care about a tradition like that, when we’ve literally been defying tradition at nearly every turn since the war?” she pointed out.
“I just wanted to make sure you didn’t feel like I was denying our girls something they deserved.”
“You earned your place as leader, didn’t you? Why should it be any different for the next generation?”
“I shouldn’t have ever doubted you,” he said with a smile.
“Well, I might be just a little jealous,” she said with a smirk, and a swish of her tail. “But it’ll take more than that to get me really upset. Let’s not forget what happened at the Crystal Empire.” She winked mischievously at him as she set the food down on the table for the two of them. “Now let’s eat, you silly raven.”
Hammer Strike found himself quietly shaping rods of metal into a cage, basing the design from fragments of memory. Next would come the crystals, then the glass, perhaps some more materials, but that was later down the line.
Nightmare Night wasn’t too far away, and it gave him plenty of time to think on what he could do for it. He didn’t have to make a costume, but knowing how most events play out, it was bound to happen anyways. His plan involved Sweetie Belle, and only the two of them would know exactly what was to come.
“Hammer Strike, will this work for my dress?” Sweetie Belle asked as she produced a raggedy mess of crafted red cloth with frayed lace that sagged onto the floor, giving it an artfully worn and torn appearance. A few extra stains of oil and fake blood had been added for effect. Three tiny bows clung to the dress’ bodice, waiting to be tied into the filly’s mane.
“Yes, I believe that will work perfectly.” Hammer Strike nodded.
“When I showed parts of it to Button Mash, his face went sortof pale, so I guess this costume must be really scary, after all. I can’t wait to use it on Diamond Tiara.” She chuckled mischievously.
“The enchantments will, perhaps, be the best part, as I’m almost certain no one will expect this.”
“Well I sure haven’t seen anything like it before.”
“That’s the best part. No one can guess it, if almost nobody knows it,” Hammer Strike said as he finished shaping the rod. “And thus, nobody can spoil the surprise, but you, and me.”
“It’s not gonna be super mean scary, though, right? I mean, I wanna scare people, but I don’t want to ruin their night.”
“After the initial scare, you’ll just give off a feeling of unease at most, unless they are particularly skittish.”
“Well, the eyes are kinda creepy. But they sorta remind me of Zecora when she’s got her hood up. I wonder what she’ll think when she sees ‘em.”
Hammer Strike hummed for a moment, before shrugging. “Not quite sure.”
“You know, with that helmet, it’s gonna be a little hard to talk,” Sweetie pointed out. “Did you do that on purpose?”
“Yep, but, if necessary, I can open a section of the helmet, and my voice will come through clear.”
“Oh. Okay, then.” Sweetie smiled. “Big sis would want to be able to talk with you, after all. And maybe kiss you, too,” she said in that teasing tone only little kids seem capable of pulling off.
“Indeed,” Hammer Strike said as he grabbed another ingot of metal.
Sweetie Belle pouted. “Aww, I wanted to see you blush.”
“Sorry. Doesn’t work like that for me.”
“Well, I guess I owe Applebloom a bit, then,” she sighed. “Scratch gambling off the list for cutie marks.”
Pensword stood by the side of the bed, running a hoof along Lunar Fang’s belly as they waited for the doctor to start the scan. “I thought it would be bigger, . . . or smaller, or… something,” he muttered as memories of the “slime machine,” as Matthew called it, were getting smaller for use on his heart. The monstrosity he was looking at reminded him of the portable clinics he went to with three large suitcases full of equipment. Yet the configuration of crystals and screen gave him the impression his mind would be blown when the test actually took place. How marvelous it was to see technology and medicine advance so far. Now Ponies could see inside the body itself, watch a life forming. Compared to the methods of his youth, it was truly miraculous. He couldn’t hold back the grin that slowly grew on his muzzle. “We are getting this for the military and civilian hospitals in New Unity. I want state-of-the-art for our hospitals, and for Ponyville as well.”
“Part of your big urban renewal plan with Grif?” Lunar Fang asked with a chuckle.
“Yes, that is part of it,” Pensword answered. Then he frowned. “You nervous?” he asked.
“This isn’t my first rodeo.” She chuckled.
“Yeah, but we didn’t have this technology when we started. It feels . . . funny, the jump we experienced,” he admitted.
“It’s amazing what the Crystal Ponies are capable of, isn’t it?”
“I know. And imagine what will happen with them helping technology now,” Pensword said reverently.
At that point, the door to the examination room opened, and a Unicorn mare in a white outfit with a small nurse’s cap smiled as she walked into the room. Her red mane had been tied in such a manner as to create two circular rings beneath her ears, while four curls hung delicately above her brow. “Hello, I’m Union Joy, and I’ll be your maternity mare for the duration of your pregnancy.” She sat down on a large stool, and pulled out a clipboard and pen. “Now, I read your file, but I like to get to know my patients personally. So, please, tell me a little about yourself.”
Pensword was not about to get involved in something like this. Matthew had memories of his mother answering all those kinds of questions, and that annoyed him for some reason, so he listened, and let Lunar Fang take care of things.
“My name is Lunar Fang. I’m a Lieutenant Colonel in the Lunar Guard, I have a daughter named Moon River, and, really, I’m not quite sure what else would be important right now.”
“Strange eating habits, any pains, mood swings?” Joy asked as she put a tool on Lunar Fang’s belly to start the scan. “As for that rank, I’m going to have to suggest you resign, or at the very least take medical leave. A mare who’s about to have a child shouldn’t be leading such a rough lifestyle.”
“Nothing out of the ordinary,” Lunar Fang said in response to the first question. “No unusual cravings, aches, or sudden urges to throttle my husband, and cry about it, if that’s what you mean.” She chuckled at the thought. “Unfortunately, my commission is handed down from Princess Luna herself. She’s given me my maternity leave, but, beyond that, you’ll have to take it up with her.”
“I’ll make sure to write a formal letter, then.” She sighed. “Though I can already guess what she’s going to say.”
Pensword couldn’t help but chuckle. He had a pretty good idea, too. the chuckle didn’t last long, though, as the nurse rounded on him.
“As for you, Mister husband,” she said as she pranced up, and poked him firmly in the chest. “I want you to start pampering her. This is very unusual having a child so soon after her first one. It could cause complications, and I will not risk the loss of a single patient. Do I make myself clear?”
Pensword nodded, and spoke reassuringly. “I assure you Thestrals are a little more hearty then the Unicorn mares, and we can–.”
“I know, Commander. I was reading up on one Night Moon’s theses on Thestral birthing and health. I’ll admit it’s a bit of an older reference, considering it was written over two hundred years ago, but, so far, the facts seem to be holding up. I still find it incredulous that Thestral mares could fight without risking any harm to the foals right up to the month of birth.” She sighed, and shook her head. “However, as I stated earlier, we are in uncharted territory. In all my years as a doctor, and all the research I’ve performed, I’ve yet to find a single mare that had a foal less than two years apart.”
Thirty minutes and a lengthy interview later, Nurse Joy put the tool away, and then took up a soapy towel, and began to clean Lunar Fang’s fur of the gel they’d used to help with the scan. “Now,” she said as she braced herself, and looked at the couple. “Go ahead, and lay into me.”
“Excuse me?” Pensword asked as he cocked his head in confusion.
“I read that aggression is good for a foal’s development for Thestrals. Didn’t you wonder why Doctor Strange recommended me? I’m one of the best in my field, and, like him, I take the unusual cases. Maternity and midwifery are kinda my thing. I’ve even been reading up on the mythical coupling of Gryphons and Ponies.” Her eyes shone like stars as she looked into the distance, and smiled. “I love children of all species, and I want to help them develop in the environment of their culture. As long as it doesn’t endanger the baby’s development, I have no problems with it. So, go ahead. Be angry at me. Give me your resentment. I don’t mind.”
Pensword gaped at Lunar Fang, then looked incredulously at the nurse. “Why does Ponyville always get all the crazies?” he finally cried. Then he sputtered, and shook his head as he struggled to find the words. Finally, he settled on his wife. “Lunar Fang, dear, please handle this.”
Lunar Fang chuckled at her husband’s behavior, and kissed him gently on the cheek, before fixing her attention to the nurse. “It’s not quite that cut and dry, Nurse Joy. I mean, it’s not quite untrue, mind you, but this is hardly a situation where it would apply.”
“Ah.” Nurse Joy blushed. “I hope you don’t mind my saying I’m relieved at that.”
Lunar Fang laughed, and shook her head even as Joy continued to twiddle her hooves.
“You wouldn’t happen to have some more modern materials I can use, would you?” Joy asked as her expression brightened. “It’s about time we had a new edition for Thestrals. If you do, could you maybe send me a copy? Like I said before, I want to make sure we get everything just right. And as things stand, considering the unique circumstances behind the pregnancy, I’d prefer if you avoided too much strain on your body. No galloping around fighting monsters, at least until the baby’s born. Then you can go slay all the manticores you want.”
Pensword gave Joy a skeptical look. Her Beige fur took a red tint. “What? Did you think I grew up in Canterlot? I came from the Unicorn station below Cloudsdale.”
Pensword paused. “You come from one of the cloud-bound pitstops?”
“Yes,” Joy replied. “It’s one reason why I was chosen to help as well. I have more experience with flying Ponies than most.” She smiled as she rose to her hooves, and returned all the materials to their proper locations, while dumping the towel and clothes into the laundry bin. “The good news is you’re perfectly healthy, and so’s the baby. I still advise you either fly or walk. No trotting or racing too hard, but it’s up to you to make that decision for yourself. I’ll make sure to send the bill to the Lunar Military for payment.”
“And could we maybe get some pictures to take with us?” Pensword asked.
Joy looked at him like he’d just grown two heads. “It’s a scanner, not a camera,” she said. Then she brought a hoof to her chin. “Then again, that might not be a bad addition to the apparatus. Good for records,” she murmured.
Pensword shook his head, and chuckled. “I advise you look into it. I think it would be a big hit.”
“You know, I might just do that.”
Vital Spark smiled as he twirled around in the black cape and tuxedo with blood-red lapels. His mane had been carefully combed backwards, and styled with a special pomade to ensure it remained in place for the fitting, and help adjust for the overall theme he was seeking to go with.
“You know, darling, if you’re going for a vampire, you really should get the ear tufts included,” Rarity pointed out as she trotted in with a gold chain, a pocket watch, and a makeup kit. “On the plus side, you’re already white, so it shouldn’t take that much effort to give you that tone to match the undead.”
“That reminds me, Rarity, have there ever been any real undead here in Equestria?”
“That’s difficult to say. If there ever were, my guess is they were taken care of a long time ago, or else given some place to live in peace. I suppose it would depend on how Princess Luna and Princess Celestia felt.”
“What about necromancers?”
“Fresh out, I’m afraid. Oh, there are enough reference books and the like written for the more positive applications. Physicians use them quite regularly, you know. The darker tomes were either destroyed or locked away where they can’t do any harm.”
“Well, I suppose that makes sense.”
“If you don’t mind my asking, Vital Spark, why did you decide to go with makeup? I mean, you’re a Unicorn. You could easily use a glamour to give you the appearance you want.”
Vital Spark chuckled. “First of all, that would be cheating. Secondly, I like doing things the old fashioned way. Thirdly, I don’t know if my magic can hold the glamour that long. And fourth, I think it’s just plain old fun.”
“Well, if you think it’s fun, I am looking for new models to test some of my designs–.”
“I’m going to stop you right there, Rarity. Dressing up every once in awhile can be fun, like for Nightmare Night, but I’m not exactly the type who wants to do that on a regular basis.”
Rarity sighed. “It was worth a shot.”
Vital Spark laughed. “Don’t worry, Rarity. I’m sure you can get any stallion you want to pose for you, if you turn on the charm. I believe I recall hearing of an incident where you literally caused an Earth Pony to fly, just by flirting with him.”
Rarity blushed. “That was a misunderstanding. I was simply helping a friend.”
“Oh yes, I know. You also helped that Pony. He’s started an Earth Pony aeronautics division now to study the effects of propeller-based flight. I wouldn’t be surprised if they had a working model in the next couple of years.”
“O-oh my.”
“Yup. Congratulations, Rarity. Even when you’re doing something somewhat underhanded, you still manage to help bring a benefit for your fellow Ponies.”
“Vital.”
“Relax. Hammer Strike knows why you did it. I didn’t even have to tell him, so it’s not like you have to threaten me, or anything like that.”
“You’re lucky you’re his friend right now. You know that, right?” Rarity asked with a flat expression.
“Mamma always taught me to count my blessings,” he said honestly. “But speaking of Hammer Strike, I’m kind of stuck on what to get him for a wedding gift. Got any ideas?”
“I don’t know. He has pretty much everything already. The only thing he doesn’t have is sleep, and he thinks that’s useless anyways.”
Vital sighed. “Well, there goes that idea.”
“Oh, don’t worry, darling. I’m sure you’ll be able to come up with something. And worst case scenario, you could always give him the one thing he doesn’t have.”
“What’s that?”
Rarity smirked. “Why, nothing, of course.”
Vital Spark smiled. “Okay, I’ll give you that one, Rarity. It seems your sword’s not the only thing that’s sharpened over time.”
“Naturally. Now then, let’s walk you through the basics, shall we? If you want to look like a vampire, we’ll need to start off with a base.”
Vital Spark sighed as he resigned himself to the treatment he knew would doubtless take the next hour at the very least. After all, this was Rarity.
Inigo and Cristo smirked at each other as they gathered in a disused room in the lower levels of the castle. They had strewn about clothing and items of lesser jewelry they’d managed to scrounge up in their journeys through the castle. They were currently watching their new younger sister, who was busy watching from her perch on top of a barrel. The filly’s form blended into the shadows of the torchlight. Her bluish-grey body and glossy black mane were perfect for dank places like this. The silver streaks in her mane had become more prominent, but did little to hinder her skills at hiding. Her red eyes seemed to glow in the torch light.
Cristo laughed as he pulled out a tiny roughspun dress, and a set of muted brown leggings with a big hat. “A Pirate Captain!” he crowed. “Captain Moon River of the Blood Moon, terror of the sea and skies!”
Moon River laughed, and clapped her hooves together joyfully as she kicked aside the rather large pile of rejected costume ideas to topple all over the cold stone floor.
Inigo grinned. “Good, and I can be her first mate, the dread pirate Nightstorm.” He jumped in surprise, then laughed as Moon River leapt from her post to his back, and started nibbling his ear. “How do you move so fast, sister?” he cried with mock horror.
Day Moon laughed as he walked in. A rather poor example of the old Lunar Guard armor clanked as he marched. The design was closer to the decorative model that had been used before Hammer Strikes modernization. When the others looked quizzically at him, he explained. “Old Wrought Iron made it for me. He needed something to do with all the extra tin he had lying around.” He looked at the dress, the leggings, and a sash and fake sword that one of his siblings was busy retrieving. “So she went for the pirate outfit, did she?” He smiled gently at her. “I thought she might. Do you like the attention your brothers are giving you, little sister, hmm?” he asked.
Moon River flapped her wings, and launched from Inigo’s back to land on Day Moon’s armored one, then knocked her hoof on his helmet. She made a sound that he took to be a yes. Then he looked at his brothers. “So, Cristo, what will you go as?”
Cristo smiled. “A Count,” he proclaimed. “Mother said I could be anything tonight, and I’m going to be a count.”
All three siblings’ expressions darkened as they frowned. “Do you think we did the right thing not telling dad we saw part of it?” Day Moon asked.
Cristo nodded. “You saw how the nobles circled him after Mom died. If he knew what really happened, he could’ve been killed. Besides, we were only a couple of years old. Most of the adults would probably say it was a nightmare. We’d need proof, and there’s no way to get it.”
“I think Faust was kind to us,” Inigo said as he looked unseeingly at the wall. “We have heroes, swordsponies, and Gryphons who can teach us skills far beyond the norm. We can be prepared for anything those murderers throw at us.”
“Yes,” Cristo agreed. “But . . . for now, you . . . do you think we could just be foals for Nightmare Night? It’s hard enough carrying this around all the time. Can’t we make Nightmare Night the one night we can actually act like foals, have fun, and stop worrying about revenge?”
The triplets looked back and forth between one another, and finally nodded in agreement. “I think we can try, at least,” Day Moon said.
“We can work on getting revenge after we get our candy,” Inigo said with a smirk.
“And bobbing for apples?” Day Moon asked.
Cristo chuckled. “Only if you can beat me first!”
“Then it’s agreed,” Day Moon said seriously as he looked to his brothers. “Tonight, we focus on having fun. Tomorrow, it’s back to work. We need to learn to use our gifts as fast as possible, if we’re going to stand a chance of avenging Mother’s murder.”
The other two brothers nodded their heads. “Agreed,” they said together. To their shock, Moon River appeared in the middle of the room her features looking as solemn as a child could.
“Me, too,” she said. Her red eyes seemed to glow as she narrowed her gaze. Her wild mane seemed almost to writhe behind her as she pointed to each of them, then back to herself. “Me, too,” she said again.
“Okay,” Day Moon whispered fearfully, “you can help, too, little sister, but first, we all have some growing up to do.” He cocked a head as he looked ponderingly at the little filly. “You think we can have her give our foes nightmares first?”
“I don’t know, and I really don’t want to think about that right now,” Inigo replied. “We have a lot to do, if we want to get our costumes ready by Nightmare Night’s . . . Day. Can you maybe talk Sweetie Belle’s big sister into helping make these better?” he asked as he picked up the hand-me-downs from the pile.
“You’ve got it, Brother,” Day Moon replied with a gentle smile.
Pensword sat at his desk reading a book he’d brought over from Earth, a softback that had been reinforced by Twilight’s magic, the same way she had the second set of scriptures his parents had bought for him while they were visiting Earth. That particular volume now sat on his desk, and, thankfully, Twilight had offered her services to repair the set he’d given Conor as well. He smiled fondly as he stared at the volume, before returning his attention to the rather large volume in his hooves.
He smiled as he looked over the pages, reading about his ancestors and their stories as compiled by his uncle and father for him to bring back. Where they could, pictures had been added to give a better idea of what the men and women looked like back in the day. He chuckled again as he recalled the writing on the binding. To think that this was just the immediate family going back to World War II’s start. If it hadn’t been for Grif’s makeshift bag of holding, he wouldn’t have been able to bring back all the other volumes sitting on the new shelves he’d had installed in the office. He paused as he looked at his human picture. A second photo of his Pony self had been taken, and added next to the first. He’d finally reached the present. He knew the moment he flipped the page, it would go from English to Equish, and the genealogy icons and lines would change. For one thing he had two family sheets to denote his two wives, and their offspring. Moon River had been recorded, along with her titles and future betrothal to Cosy, but he was sure he could still make it work by adding the date it was broken off, if needed in the future. Still, he almost couldn’t wait for Lunar Fang to give birth again, so he could add that name as well. Generations from now, his descendants would look back, and see this wonderful history. It felt good to indulge that side of him again. He smiled as he dipped his pen in the inkwell, and began working on Inigo, Cristo, and Day Moon’s entries.
Inigo’s entry was the most frustrating of all. Something about that name just kept niggling at him. It was driving the poor commander nuts. Grif had suggested he read The Princess Bride to help settle the strange sensation, but, thus far, his efforts had gone unrewarded. He casually wondered if Inigo might enjoy an all-black outfit for a future Nightmare Night, though. He might not make a bad masked crusader.
He frowned as his eyes wandered to the sheet on his desk. There was Lunar Fang–no, Moonshade’s family tree, or at least what would soon become it. He would get her parents’ names, and work from there. He smiled as he felt a small rush of emotions. Perhaps this was where the pen in his cutie mark came into play, recording an accurate history for future posterity, or something along those lines. Then again, it was a passion when he was on Earth, so the point may well have been moot. He gave his ears another swivel, listening to try to pick up any disturbances indicating the arrival of a plaintiff or some other official who would want a word with him. Blessed silence answered back. He smiled, and revelled in the knowledge that no major interruptions would occur. He leaned back, and closed his eyes as he let his mind travel down memory lane, recalling his time as a human.
“Well, I can’t fault you for studying,” a voice spoke to him, an all too familiar voice, one he hadn’t heard in over a thousand years worth of time. “Funny how it took this long to get you to do it, though. I always had to tie you to your seat to keep you at your studies before. You were always sneaking off to practice something or another with your mother.”
Pensword flipped backwards as he and his chair went crashing to the floor. His hind hooves flailed about in shock. “Grandma?” he shouted. “You–” he started, before stopping. “Uh … you can thank Matthew for that. He’s the one that loves to study and record history.” He sighed, wincing as he stood up to pick up his chair, and return to his seat, before turning to see the familiar face of his grandmother.
“I’m glad to see you can see me again.” She smiled. “I was beginning to worry.”
“I know. It was scaring me, too. I feared I might have irrevocably damaged my sight by being stubborn.” He sighed. “I guess that’s been a flaw of mine for a long time.”
“At least you managed to recognise the problem before things went too far,” the old mare said as she smiled comfortingly.
“Yeah, but I missed getting to talk to you, and to my family.” He swiped the tears stinging at his eyes, desperate to maintain the vision of the specter that stood before him. I can see why the sight is a two-edged gift.”
“It’s not just the sight,” she reminded him. “You wielded the sword, but left the sheath unattended.”
“You're talking about that thaumic field stuff, right?” he asked. “And no, I am not going to call it by the technical term. I am miffed at it, to be honest. And since it is more … not alive, like magic, I am going to call it that for the moment.”
“Didn’t your mother teach you any tool is a weapon waiting to be sharpened?”
Pensword sighed. “She did. I just … was being stubborn. I was scared of messing things up. As a human … as Matthew, I felt like I messed up a lot, like I was more prone to having things go poorly. I suppose I still am prone to that fear, but I think I am learning to manage it better, now that I’ve finally started to practice. I am also keeping an eye on Moon River, in case she develops this field as well. I’m sure you’ve noticed, but she is developing rather quickly for a foal.”
“Yes, and we’re all very proud of how she’s coming along,” his grandmother said with a grin.
“I bet,” Pensword replied with a chuckle. He paused, “I hope you are happy, and none of my relatives are upset about the adoption of Moonshade’s nephews.”
“You did the right thing. Everypony did.”
Pensword let out a sigh of relief. “I’m glad to hear that. I just … I just hope I can be a good father. I know they already have one, and he’s clearly a good one, but–.” His face fell as he recalled the woeful tale. “My dear little Lunar Fang. I am sad to see that all she has left of her family from before our adventures in time travel are three foals. How are they doing? Her family, that is.”
“Her sister asks that you tell her thank you for taking care of the children, and, if you get the chance, to tell her husband he did the right thing. She doesn’t blame him. As for her family, you can expect a visit from her father at some point.” The old ghost chuckled at the thought.
“Of course.” Pensword replied as he joined her. “I look forward to his visit.” He paused for a moment. “And how is Uncle Cloud doing? I know from personal experience how strange it is going from two legs to four and back again. I hide it well, but it is still unnerving. Is he happy?”
“He’s happy to be in the arms of his forgotten family again, and he’s happy to see that both sides found a connection through you.”
“Please tell him I’m sorry I couldn’t bring Aunt Selma, but I will try to do so next visit. I will be sure to bring something to allow her to come back,” he promised, even as he grimaced.
“You did all you could,” his grandmother said as she waved a hoof. “That's all you can do sometimes. He’s not going to hold it against you, so you’d better not hold it against yourself either. Just do it in your own time.”
“I understand.” Pensword nodded, and sniffled. “Still, it is good to see you again, Grandmother, to know that … that I am back to normal, so to speak. I suppose now I just need to keep working at the same level of progress. After all, these classes have become a routine for me. I can’t very well stop now, can I?”
“You were never one for stopping at just the base line,” she said with a knowing smile.
Pensword laughed. “Nope. I always enjoyed going one step beyond. It is actually sort of funny. Going through this thaumic field stuff, Matthew feels more solid, more … stable. I sure know he is remembering more about the Titanic, and other things from his world. It seems to help. Then again, we’ve been reading from the books, and he keeps bugging me now about hiding a computer somewhere, so he can squirrel away a computer game when it comes out. I never was that … focused on something, was I, Grandma, when I came to visit you in the tents?”
“You were more dedicated to trying to get weapons you weren’t ready for, and finding out the best way to trap game.” She laughed. “Oh, the antics you pulled. Why, I dare say Moon River might even surpass your record.”
“Like a good little Thestral?” Pensword asked. “I . . . I think I was trying to make up for what I felt was lacking in feeling welcomed in the town. I am still unsure about what fate was thinking when it sent that bear, as I know now that my human grandfather had a similar experience.”
“I think it was fitting. Always pushing forward, always finding another obstacle to break down.” She shrugged. “A bear lets nothing get in its way. Nothing challenges its right to move on, and nothing stops it.”
“Yes, I suppose it was. I see what you mean,” Pensword answered. “Thank you, Grandma. I … I am proud you are my Grandma, and, if needed, I may look into building your lantern again, so as to prove to my offspring in the future that daddy is not crazy about living another life.”
The old mare smiled sadly. “That would be nice,” she agreed. “Unfortunately, my time is up for now. Keep on the path, grandson. You make me so very proud. Always remember. We’re watching you,” she said as she waved a final goodbye, then walk towards the door, fading away as she went.
Pensword Smiled as he watched her disappear. Then he returned his attention to the photo book that had dropped in his hasty reaction. The pages had fallen open to the family photo they’d taken on earth. Due to all the horses around, they had spread out two foal blankets that were just large enough for Lunar Fang and him to lay on. Still, it was a funny sight with all the squeezing around with him, Lunar Fang, Uncle Storm, Grandma. . .. He stopped, then broke into a fit of laughter. It seemed the rest of his family had managed to get in, somehow, after all, and he could see them. He wiped the mirthful tears from his eyes, and smiled as he began to pack things up. After all, he had a message to deliver to his wife, and a family to nuzzle and be with. Daddy was finally coming home.
“I have to hand it to you, Steel Weaver. Few people could actually make a gauntlet for a Gryphon,” Grif commented as he flexed his talons to test out his new segmented metal gauntlets. The metal had been forged to look like his arms were covered by large jagged protrusions that covered his entire forearm. Segmented joints covered the wrist, and a thin fingerless mesh made it appear as though his talons were part of the claw. It gave both arms a feral, devilish look. “I just need to get Clover to enchant them to burn orange.”
“Just be careful, laddie,” Steel Weaver grunted. “I hear she strives for accuracy.”
“You're not going to go into a big spiel about how you don’t trust magic, and, ‘good reliable steel. That’s the way ta go,’ are you?” Grif asked, chuckling.
Steel Weaver shook his head. “Ye told me they were part of him now, didn’t ya? Used dark energies ta make it work. Clover might view that as a challenge.” He shrugged. “But, then again, it’s your funeral.” He chuckled. “What would a smith like me know?”
“Given what you’ve done in a short period of time, I’d say you know quite a bit. So, tell me, do I cut a fearsome form?”
Grif stood on his hind legs. His large scarlet coat flapped in a wind he conjured. Gold threadwork had been hemmed throughout the piece in intricate patterns. His chest was exposed, bearing his black and green feathers, and he wore a belt of three thick bands of leather dyed scarlet that all connected to a large multi-sectioned buckle made of polished steel. The buckle itself was large enough to cover the area beneath his ribcage. It was ribbed in several areas, and centered with the top part of a human skull formed from metal. He’d considered using a Gryphon or Pony skull, but it wouldn’t look right, proportionally speaking, and would ruin the overall aesthetic of the design.
His shoulders were covered in large pauldrons that had been treated to have the same scarlet color as his coat with gold filigree forming several swirls that ended in jagged spike-like points. A second plate hung down under each pauldron to cover his upper arm. He’d forgone the usual brown trousers the character was known for, and added a gold skeletal-like structure that traced his wings, which emerged from well-placed slits on his back. He slitted his eyes, and stared Steel Weaver down. When the costume was put into use, his eyes would be enchanted to glow red, and his crest would be grown out long enough to hang at his shoulders.
“Ye look like a hot bag of air and angst,” Steel Weaver said flatly. “But it’ll do for scaring little foals well enough.”
“Then that's all it needs to do.” Grif chuckled. “It’s a kid’s holiday, after all.”
“Aye, that it is. And what do you plan to do with your wives, I wonder?” Steel Weaver wiggled his eyebrows mischievously.
“I don’t know. They usually enjoy surprising me,” Grif laughed back.
“Well, if it’s a surprise you’re looking for, then Happy Nightmare Night.” Steel Weaver chuckled as he pulled out an intricately engraved broadsword. Blue runes glowed up its sides, giving it an icy aura. The pommel had been carefully crafted to come to a point in case of close-quartered combat. The blood groove Had been carved in a flowing pattern to match the cross guard’s design, and what appeared to be an image of frozen flames carved into the sword itself reached upwards yearningly, before meeting with the first of the runes.
“Holy cow, Steel Weaver. That's amazing! I don’t remember describing the Void Sword to you.”
“This old thing? Ah, that’s nothin’. Just came to me while you were talkin’ about the character. Every knight has his sword, after all, even the fallen ones.”
“Yes, but this is pretty much a spot-on match to the one from the story. Who’d you ask for details?”
He shrugged. “I didn’t.”
“Huh.” Grif furrowed his brow, then nodded. “Well, how much did I owe you for the metal work?” he asked quickly. This might be something Shawn needed to hear about.
“Oh, I’d say a good round five hundred ought to do nicely,” he said nonchalantly.
Grif nodded, and reached into his bag, before pulling out a small chest. He checked something on the top, and nodded to himself, then placed it down near Steel Weaver’s work bench. “There should be exactly five hundred in there.”
“If there’s more, I’ll send it back. If there’s less, well, I guess I’ll live.” Steel Weaver shrugged. “It’s good to see you again, Grif. Send my regards to your lord. We miss him down here.”
“He hasn’t forgotten you guys. Things have just been a bit crazy since the attack. And with the wedding coming up, he’s got a lot on his plate. I’m sure he’ll be back, once things settle down.” Grif gave Steel Weaver a wave, and proceeded to take wing with his items firmly in claw.
Steel Weaver casually made his way over to the raw materials bucket, and pulled out his drawings. Several different designs featured, including a massive buster sword, a curious blade with a carefully-etched eye that would mimic life, and a long silver sword engraved with runes etched to look like crossing streams as they circled around precious stones that had been mounted in the bevelling. “I think I’ll try you next,” he said as he picked the last one. “I’ll call you Snicker-snack.”
Pensword looked up from his nap in confusion. His ears twitched as he heard whispers around him, but he didn’t know where–. He snapped to attention as he realized that he was the only one in the room. He slowly stepped forward, only to feel something wrap around him as he lifted up into the air. “Wha!” he yelled. A moment later, Fox Feather walked out from the shadows, wearing a rather large hat with a puffy white feather stuck into the brim. She pulled the cover off a firefly lantern, and grinned. “Hello, Admiral. I see you fell for our little trap.”
Pensword paused, and gave a flat expression. “You’re a pirate now?”
“Aye, and so, too, will you be,” Lunar Fang replied as she stepped out to join Fox Feather. Pensword was really regretting telling them about those pirate stories from Earth now. “Y’see,” she said in a bawdy accent, “Moon River be the cap’n, and I think it would be a fun time if the whole family be her crew, savvy?”
Pensword’s hard mouth softened, then expanded into a wide grin. “Oh, I am so in.” The two stared at him expectantly, and Pensword realized his mistake. “Oh, erm, excuse me.” He cleared his throat. “Heave ho, I be wishing to join the dread pirate Moon River.”
Fox feather’s mouth twitched, and Lunar Fang snorted, before they finally gave up all pretence at indifference, and laughed at his accent as the sound of a snapping rope alerted him too late of the sudden release as he dropped to the floor, pinned beneath the folds of the net. His eyes glinted in the darkness as he rose, even as he glared. Moon River was giggling like mad. “So . . . where are we going to store our booty, a ship?”
“That’s a surprise the boys want to take care of. They’re looking for a good brig we can use.”
“Fair enough. I’m guessing you used the book on pirates that I brought back for reference?” he asked as he took in Lunar Fang’s tight-fitting breeches, and the skull-and-crossbones bandana that had been tied on her head.
“Aye,” Fox Feather replied. “It be a good insight into the fiction of pirates.”
Pensword chuckled. “So what am I going to be dressing as?”
“You’ll see, but I think we can get Luna to craft fake candles.”
“Oh no.” Pensword’s jaw dropped. “You’re not thinking of the captain of the Queen Anne’s Revenge, are you?”
Fox Feather looked confused. “You know about the Captain?”
“Yeah. He’s fairly common knowledge, but my question is how are you going to get that beard? It’s too late for me to start growing one.”
One sentence from the two mares sent a shiver of dread down from the top of his head to the tip of his tail.
Extended Holiday Ch 112: Give us Something Sweet to Bite Act 16
“So, my dears,” Grif said as he stood before Shrial and Avalon in his costume. The enchantments had been added less than an hour ago, and he couldn’t help but give them a smile. “Do I frighten you?” His voice had been altered to come across in a thick Scottish brogue by an enchanted pendant around his neck.
“Oh, I don’t know. What do you think, Shrial?” Avalon asked with a curious quirk of her eyebrow.
“I rather like the tall, dark, and brooding.” She chuckled. “It fits the mood rather well. I wonder, Avalon, does Gryphonia have a Nightmare Night of their own? After all, Princess Luna did do a rather large number on the emperor’s troops back then.”
“They’re too proud to admit it. Though there is the night of the Shadow Haunt.”
Shrial shuddered. “They still tell that story?”
Avalon nodded the affirmative. “Sometimes the oldest last the longest.”
Meanwhile, two tiny cubs looked up at the altered appearance of their father, and growled playfully as they tried to bat at the glowing gauntlets.
“Now then,” Grif said as he turned his attention to his cubs, “lets see what we can dress you two up as. Perhaps a pair of bats?” He smiled at them.
Both girls cocked their heads in sync as they let out a confused murmur.
“I’m not so sure the girls would appreciate being constricted by a costume like that, Grif,” Avalon pointed out. “After all, they are their parents’ daughters.”
“True, but we need to find something for them. I was hoping we could attend the earlier festivities as a family, before I get trapped in storytelling,” he said as he pulled the two up by his pauldrons to let them nuzzle him.
“Why not try something like a sphinx?” Avalon suggested. “They already have the bodies of lions to go with it, after all.”
“I suppose. We’d just need to find them some headdresses.” Grif chuckled as he leaned down to the girls. “What say you, my pretties?” he asked.
The twins churred happily as they tickled their tails under his beak.
“And what of you two?” he asked Shrial and Avalon.
“Well, seeing as you’re such a birdbrain for that Arthur fellow, and for this Tolkien, Avalon had a little idea,” Shrial said with a playful smirk.
“Oh? I suppose a surprise is in order, then?” Grif chuckled.
“Enough to bewitch the mind, and ensnare the senses,” Avalon said with hooded lids, and a dramatic wiggle of her talons.
“Then I will take these two, and find a pair of proper headdresses befitting mighty, noble beasts, while you two get ready,” he said, scooping up the cubs, and flashing the two gryphonesses a devil-may-care grin. “I sense great fun on the horizon this night.”
“By the pricking of my thumbs,” Avalon started.
“Something wicked this way comes,” Shrial finished.
“Shall we, Sister?” Avalon asked as she extended a hand.
“I do believe we shall.” The two laughed together as they flew out the tower towards Ponyville. “We’ll be back soon!” Shrial called out as their voices faded on the wind, and they shrunk into the horizon.
Vital Spark stared nervously at the stone mask hovering in Clover’s magical grip. His garb had been set, though something had gone wrong with the application of the pomade. Instead of the slicked-back look he was going for, his hair had been styled in what looked almost to be a natural briar patch of mane. It both flowed and jutted in equal proportions, and the pendant Rarity had included in a final shipment caused it to look even longer as his eyes glowed red.
“I appreciate the sentiment, Clover, but that mask seriously gives me the creeps.”
“It’s a mask that uses pressure points in the head to turn a regular person into an undead monster. Why would it not be creepy?” she asked him.
“Wait, are we talking legitimate dark magical artifact, or are we talking prop designed to look like the legitimate magical artifact?”
“Yes, Vital Spark, I am completely insane, and have handed you a real dark magical artifact from my vast collection.” She rolled her eyes, and groaned. “Why do they always have to be so paranoid?”
“Because, if we weren’t, we’d be just like everypony else you hate?” Vital ventured as he gingerly took the mask. Its resemblance to the source material was downright frightening, although this one had been fashioned to fit down a Pony’s muzzle as well, so it wasn’t an exact replica. “How did you even get ahold of that manga, anyways? I thought Grif kept it under lock and key.”
“I’ve traveled with The Doctor,” she said, as though this should cover everything that needed to be said.
“Okay, I can’t argue with that one,” Vital agreed. “It’s still incredibly weird to be dressing as a villain for once, though. I’m just glad I’m not the arrogant jerk this guy became.” He shuddered.
“Power breeds arrogance. The difference is how we express it. Hammer Strike expresses it through indifference. Celestia expressed it through inaction. This Dio character simply expressed it in a more outright fashion.”
“Just don’t ask me to do an evil laugh, okay? I’m no good at those,” Vital said as he looked at himself through the mirror. As a whole, the costume wasn’t half bad, though he supposed he was a little scrawny compared to what the Pony equivalent likely would have been.
“Honestly, I’ll be glad to get this all done and over with,” Clover said. “This holiday makes no sense.”
“It’s for the fun of it, Clover. Speaking of which, who or what are you going as?”
“I’m much too busy for that sort of thing, Vital.” Clover rolled her eyes.
“Too busy to have fun with your friends? Come on; it’s Ponyville. It’s not like you’re going to be assaulted by nobility there. Well, except maybe for Pinkie Pie. You know how excited she gets about her parties.”
“I have important experiments to run, Vital,” Clover insisted.
Vital narrowed his eyes. “Okay, Clover, what’s really going on?”
“Nothing’s going on,” she said, rolling her eyes yet again. “I just have experiments that are on a very short schedule.”
“You know, you could always try teaming up with Time Turner. I hear he’s always experimenting on one thing or another in that clock tower,” Vital teased with a sly wink as he made his way to the door. “But seriously, is there really nothing I can say to make you reconsider?”
“Have fun, Vital Spark,” was all she said in reply as she turned to her bench, signaling the conversation was over.
Vital Spark sighed as he opened the door. “Your loss. I’ll see if I can’t bring back some goodies for you later.” With one final look in her direction, he crossed the threshold, and closed the door behind him.
Meanwhile, Clover ran across her open book once again. They really had chosen the worst night for such a holiday. After all, it was the only night she could safely resume communications with . . . them, and she felt, after the last attack, she’d need to contract their power again. She turned away from the page depicting a triangle formed of three orbs, one occupied by what appeared to be an old man with a cane, another of a lady in flowing blue robes, and the third of a demonic goat-like figure with large curved horns.
Pensword stood in the middle of the room. A dusty and faded tricorner hat sat on his head. His once white mane had been turned black, and a busy black beard had been grown as well, courtesy of Twilight. He had been careful to get the beard braided and waxed into strands with magic fuses burning in them to cause smoke to curl out. He had a large heavy duster, with bandolier that housed four flintlock pistols, thanks to the loans he’d gotten from Grif and the others. A large cutlass hung at his side In a weatherbeaten scabbard, ready for use at a moment’s notice. Thanks to another spell, his eyes glowed with a yellow light as he glared at the doors. “How did you all pull this off?” He pulled out the sword and found that the tip had been broken off. He prayed Hammer Strike would never find out. There were few things the smith lord hated more than an ill-maintained weapon. He let out a sigh of relief as he got a closer look at the blade’s crafting. There was no sign of the smith’s mark. That meant this sword wasn’t of his making. Hopefully that would give him some leniency in the matter.
“Magic?” Lunar Fang offered as she exited the room. She wore a dark blue long coat with a purple brassier tied around her chest to keep true to the pictures from the book. A black bandanna slanted over her right ear, and her mane had been done up in a braid that hung over her right shoulder. A cutlass hung on her side with her tomahawk on the other. A single flintlock had been holstered across her chest to let any potential “enemies” know that she meant business.
“Dear, when did you get a flintlock?” Pensword asked as Moon River leapt from the shadows, and jumped on her mother’s back, grinning as she squeaked softly in Lunar Fang’s ear.
“Hammer strike gave it to me not long after the attack. I suppose he figured it would be better to have it available, should the situation demand.”
While Lunar Fang answered, Pensword looked at his daughter’s costume. Another tricorn hat sat on her head to complement an open overcoat jacket with a white lace shirt. A series of thin golden chains around her neck rounded the look nicely. True to her usual habits, her toy crossbow remained on her back. And while it didn’t fit the books on pirates from Earth, it allowed her the opportunity to be her own pirate. After all, wasn’t one of the reasons for being a pirate to flaunt the rules, and be your own person? A wooden sword hung from her side, painted to look more like a real blade. “I take it this is to avoid scaring the other mothers?” he asked as he motioned to the sword.
“We’re visiting Ponyville tonight. I think they’re going to have enough frights from being invaded by new Unity. Best to give the parents a little break,” Fox Feather spoke as she stood in the doorway, looking more like a barmaid then a pirate captain, but the dagger stuck into one of the cloth foreboots hopefully would prove enough to deter anyone from making any moves in a drunken state. Though, even lacking her usual weapons, Fox Feather was still a force to be reckoned with. A wooden plate was attached by the fake belt to her back, with wooden mugs attached to the plate.
“Dear, you really are wearing the booze a little thin,” Pensword answered.
“Please,” Fox Feather sputtered, “a drink that can hammer us would kill a human. Hay, normal fruit punch gets fermented in your gut.”
“Don’t remind me,” Pensword muttered, then sighed. “Still, I suppose it is your costume.”
“And my first Nightmare Night,” Fox Feather added. “I have to say, I’m only doing this because Princess Luna told me she likes the holiday.” She giggled. “Besides, where would I put my candy?”
Pensword blinked as he looked at Fox Feather. “I forgot this was your first Nightmare Night. That would explain the other Demon Slayers wishing to watch the base tonight. Still, on the plus side, I think the High Chieftess will be visiting Ponyville some time tonight. She loves entertaining the foals.”
Inigo walked out wearing all black, with a facemask, and a shirt with sleeves that stretched all the way down into his boots. To top it off, a wide-brimmed black hat added that final element of mystery, allowing him to cut a very striking figure. Pensword couldn’t help but smile as he looked on the foal. The costume reminded him of a mix between the Dread Pirate Roberts and Zoro from Matthew’s memories. A thin rapier with a hoof guard hung at the young foal’s side to make use of, should the occasion arise. Its lighter nature would make it easy to manipulate with his pale wings.
It was at that moment that Pensword realized one very important fact. All of his children were blank flanks. “Oh no,” he groaned.
Day Moon and Cristo walked out dressed as simple sailors with daggers at their sides. Each carried a large wooden chest between them. The lid had been propped open, most likely to hold all the booty they would be getting that night in the form of candy and treats. They smiled at their uncle, and Pensword couldn’t help but smile back, despite his worries over the potential treatment Diamond Tiara might try to give them. “Where did you get your chest?” he asked.
“Clover gave it to us when we asked her if she knew a way to help keep things light, even if there’s a lot of stuff inside,” Cristo spoke
“Clover . . . gave you a chest?” Pensword deadpanned.
“Well, she more or less tossed it at us when Moon River started to cry, after she said she was too busy with experiments, but I think Moon River was faking it, just to get her to make the chest,” Day Moon responded. Since the trio had agreed to be pirates on Moon River’s crew, the tin plates had been reshaped to create some patches of light armor that would fit in with the theme of piracy, like pauldrons and bucklers.
Inigo shook his head. “I think I caught her smiling, after she tossed it at us. So, maybe she wanted to see what we were willing to do to get the chest?” He rubbed his chin in thought, and sighed. “Adults are weird sometimes.”
Pensword chuckled. “That sounds like Clover, all right. Heart of gold, but stony of face. And don’t any of your tell her I said that, or I will ground you to walking for a week,” Pensword threatened in a low growl.
He was shocked as his children replied with cheers and agreements, not to mention an overall excitement for how well the tone matched his costume. He couldn’t help but smile at how well they handled the pressure and threats. It must have been the Thestral blood in their veins. “Well, let’s get to the courtyard. We need to be ready to move out soon.”
“Yes, sir!” the foals said with eager salutes as they snatched up the chest, and made their way into the hall with Moon River grinning cutely from her perch inside. It seemed Clover’s spellwork was holding up rather well, if the expressions on the other foals’ faces were any indicator. Pensword chuckled, and made a note to thank the mage later for her kindness, before placing a wing around either of his wives, and joining his children. A night of merriment and excitement was just around the corner, and he could hardly wait.
Rarity and Sweetie Belle stood behind a large screen in the newly restored storeroom. True, it had been a bit of a costly venture, but Rarity was confident she’d be able to earn the money back easily enough, once the next fashion season came in. That, and all the costume commissions she’d received for this year’s Nightmare Night would surely be enough. The scent of freshly varnished wood and sawdust filled the air. And since the room had only recently been finished, it proved an ideal place for Rarity to put the finishing touches on Sweetie Belle’s costume. After a few more minutes of primping and fussing, Rarity took a step back to admire her handiwork. “I think you’re finally ready, Sweetie. Go on, and have a good night with Hammer Strike, okay? Just be careful not to get too far away from him. If you get separated, I’ll be helping Applejack at the apple bobbing contest, okay?”
“I know, I know,” Sweetie said as she rolled her glowing yellow eyes. Then she smiled. “Thanks for all your help, Sis. I really appreciate it.” She gave Rarity a big hug, before making her way towards the storeroom door. “I can’t wait to see what you’re going to be this year.”
Rarity laughed. “See you soon, Sweetie Belle. Just be careful not to eat too many sweets, all right? We don’t need a repeat of last year.”
Sweetie shuddered. “Yeah, I know. I don’t want to be that sick ever again.”
“That’s my girl. Now go have some fun.”
“See ya later, Rarity!” And with a final slam, Sweetie Belle was gone.
Hammer Strike rolled his gloved hoof as he worked on securing the last of his costume in place. Once Sweetie Belle was done with her preparations, she would come to his office, and they would then head to the courtyard to meet with everypony else. After that, it was off to Ponyville.
The door to his office banged open as Sweetie Belle rushed in, then leaped up to hug the stallion. “Thank you so much for letting me be your partner tonight, Hammer Strike. We’re going to be some of the coolest Ponies there!”
“And the least expected, too.” Hammer Strike chuckled. “Don’t forget the nickname. It really completes the set.”
“I guess I can call you Mister B, then. You’re gonna be my big brother soon enough, anyways, aren’t you?”
“That is correct, yes.”
“Just wait till I cook you two your after-party breakfast!” she said cheerfully.
“I look forward to it,” Hammer Strike chuckled as he grabbed his helmet. “Thankfully, with all the enchantments, you should still be able to understand me without me having to open the vents in the helmet.”
“That’s gonna make it even better when we meet the others.” She grinned. “I can’t wait to see what Princess Luna thinks of our costumes.”
“Neither can I,” Hammer Strike replied, before putting on the helmet. He twisted it to the side, and it clicked into place. A soft green light filled the room, accompanied by a low rumbling groan as the crystals and their enchantments took effect.
Sweetie Belle hopped up onto his back, and giggled as she lifted the syringe in her telekinetic grip. “Let’s make this the best Nightmare Night Ponyville’s ever had!” she cheered.
Pensword looked to the troops that would be staying behind, namely the Demos and the Demon Slayers. Well, minus Kahn. He was Faust knows where.
“If a Pink Demon shows up, let her party around, and dance with her. However, this is the main problem: If we have Ponies knocking for candy, give it out from the giant barrels there.” He pointed to six full large barrels overflowing with sweets. “Give generously. They will have traversed through the Everfree Forest, so they deserve rewards.”
“How many foals do you think are going to come out here, honestly?” Forward Scout asked.
“You mean other than the foals that live in New Unity?” Espionage asked with a quirked eyebrow.
Before anypony could say anything, they heard a large knocking at the door. Pensword grinned. “Well, colts, go hand out the candy.”
“Huh. Whadda you know.” Forward Scout shrugged, and headed to the door.
“Poor fool didn’t realize how far kids will go for candy,” Grif spoke up behind Pensword as he approached with a twin on each wing. They both wore a gold-painted cardboard headdress.
“Do I have to answer a Riddle or something?” Pensword asked in response. “Also, I agree. Foals do come all over the land for the hope of candy.” He smiled knowingly. “Well, I guess we are waiting for Hammer Strike now.”
“And vital,” Grif noted. “Also, Shrial and Avalon are still getting ready.”
“Very true. I hope we don’t meet any ninjas,” Pensword muttered as he looked back at his family of pirates.
“Not keen on seeing how that feud would end?”
“And most likely they will be foals that I know, and I don’t want to scare any of them any more than I will with what I have right now.”
“Did someone say scary?” Vital Spark asked as he smirked cockily, exposing two sharpened fangs as his eyes glowed scarlet. Cold seeped into the air as he walked past, and his cape flapped dramatically as he took off the mask. “Hello, everypony. How do I look?”
“You’re a Ken doll?” Grif asked as he let out a chuckle.
Fox Feather giggled as she gave Vital a flirtatious grin, and bumped against his flank with her hip. “Nice fangs. You’ll snag a Thestral tonight for sure.”
“You dare to insult the ultimate life form? I have transcended above all of you miserable creatures!” Vital said as he grandstanded for all he was worth.
Pensword spoke his first words in Draconic. “So you’re Shadow?” he asked.
Vital Spark facehoofed. “Pensword, you ruined it.”
Lunar Fang hid a smirk behind her hoof. “Now you’re just aiming for a Thestral warrior mare.”
“Besides, boy,” Grif said as his eyes glowed, “you’ve got a few centuries before you're ready to play with the big boys as far as vampires go.”
Vital kicked a stone, and sighed. “Killjoys. Can’t you let me be cool just once?”
Pensword looked confused. “Why am I a killjoy? And you do realize that some Thestral mares like that talk and fangs on a Unicorn, right?”
“You have to work for it,” Grif said bluntly. “So, now it seems just Hammer Strike, Sweetie Belle, and the girls have to come, and we can go.”
A low groan filled the air as heavy footsteps made their way towards the main doors of the castle. The doors opened to reveal a Pony version of the old fashioned deep sea diving suits; however, a very large drill replaced the standard hoof gear, attached to metal rails that would allow it to slide up and down along the forehoof to allow walking when not in use. A similar design had been included on the other hoof as well.
Pensword gaped. “Is that a rivet gun? How can you see? There have to be at least eight portholes in that diver’s dome!” The helmet was essentially a large bulb with a wire cage around it, and a row of six portholes right down the middle in two columns, each three deep, with two extra holes added in the middle to make a row of four. His whole body had been covered in the material, making it look like it could easily function underwater.
Hammer Strike groaned in response.
“Nod up and down?” Pensword asked, "or shake no.”
Hammer Strike groaned once again as Sweetie Belle chuckled. “Hi, guys,” she said as she hopped up on top of Hammer Strike’s diving helmet. Her cute little bow drooped on her mane as her ragged dress rustled in the breeze. Her eyes glowed an unwholesome yellow as she waved. Her hooves appeared to have been spattered in some sort of dark substance, whether dirt or fake blood was unclear. A long syringe with a glowing red holding container hovered in the air next to her. “Like our costumes?”
“As long as you don’t start calling us angels,” Grif said.
“Why’s that?” Sweetie Belle asked.
“I’ll let Mister Bubbles explain it to you later,” Grif said. “Now where are those two?”
A low whisper carried on the winds, and echoed in the party’s ears in a language Grif knew all too well from his time as a human. A few moments later, Shrial descended. A long flowing black headdress trailed down her neck, and played freely in the wind as a shining pendant of silver and crystal glowed faintly in the torchlight. Her dress was a simple grey, studded with little glowing crystals to replicate a gentle white light. “Greetings, devil slayer,” she said with a playful smile. “How do I look?”
“You look amazing, my dear,” Grif said, approaching her slowly. “A vision of starlight given form.”
“If you like this, then you’ll love what comes next.” Shrial smirked as a white speck gradually drew nearer, circling gently on the thermals. A shimmering aura surrounded the lady as she dropped lower and lower to reveal a beautiful white dress with careful trimming designed to billow and move with the winds her focus manipulated around her. Even as Avalon landed on the ground, the eddies continued to play with her dress, giving the impression of floating in water. A sword in a sturdy leather sheath lay in her talons. Its pommel had been formed into the shape of a dragon’s head with a giant polished ruby held in its jaws. The gilding along the hilt and crossguard portrayed the flames of the dragons that were purported to have forged the weapon. A crown of teardrop sapphires had been tied around her head, and she smiled as she curtsied to Grif.
“Greetings, and fair fortunes to thee, Dark Knight,” she said with a smile.
“It seems that this beast shall have beauty for his company tonight.” Grif grinned as he pulled them both in. “Shall we?”
“Are we all assembled?” Avalon asked.
Grif looked to Pensword. “Is anyone missing?”
“Well, I’m not sure. I think we’re okay?”
“Oh!” Fox Feather gasped, then laughed. “I invited Link and Zelda to come along with us. Epona said she had to close up shop, so she won’t be able to make it till later. I hope you don’t mind having them along.”
“We’re here!” a familiar voice called just at that point as epona trotted to the gate with link and zelda following close behind. A plain homespun white dress with blue symbols stitched into the hem fluttered in the wind. Two sturdy sets of horseshoes clopped on the ground behind her as she made her way towards them.
“Epona, I thought you said you couldn’t make it till later,” Fox Feather said in surprise.
“Link and Zelda insisted on helping.” Epona laughed. “The things these two can do when they put their minds to it is just amazing.”
Pensword blinked, then leaned in to whisper to Grif in Draconic. “Taze, you do see? I am not seeing things? Link . . . is that a green tunic he’s wearing? And the cap?”
“It looks that way.” Grif nodded.
“Look at Zelda,” Vital whispered. “She’s the spitting image of Sheik. She’s even got the harp.”
“Okay . . . if anypony sees a fairy, we are running,” Pensword muttered. “Or some triangle of gold starts glowing.”
“Technically, they were pixies,” Grif noted. “And, honestly, Ganondorf rising from the dead to try and take over the land in a rule of chaos and darkness? That wouldn’t even register in the top ten of weird stuff that's happened since we got here.”
“Yes, but in those situations, we would somehow be powerless to stop him, and it will be up to one person to win. I don’t like that, especially since I run the military with Luna’s help.”
Fox Feather bapped Pensword on the head. “Stop talking like a dragon. Save it for the kids. Remember, you’re helping with the haunted house.”
“Yes, dear,” Pensword replied sheepishly in Equish.
“Isn’t it funny that she still hasn’t picked up Draconic?” Grif asked Shrial with a chuckle.
Hammer Strike groaned in response. After a moment, he reached up, and twisted the helmet with a soft click. “There we are. For now, I’ll leave some additional vents open.”
“Getting a little toasty in there, Hammer Strike?” Vital asked.
“Nope. I figure you all would prefer to understand me, for the time being.”
“Hey. My sister’s marrying Big Macintosh. You learn to translate his eeyups and nopes. The groans of a Big Daddy might as well be Shakespeare.” Grif chuckled.
“Yes, but I’m positive that isn’t the case with everyone else.”
“I do concur. All I hear are groans,” Pensword answered. “But I am glad at least one of us can understand him.”
“Actually, make that two,” Sweetie said. “Hammer Strike did some special enchanting, so we can talk to each other while he’s wearing the helmet.”
“You're going to have him sneak up on Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon, aren’t you?” Grif asked.
“You think it’ll be too much?”
“It’s going to be up to Hammer Strike, if he wants to,” Pensword replied, only to be blinded as Lunar Fang kissed him on the muzzle.
“Meh, it’s karma.” Grif shrugged, and ruffled Sweetie Belle’s mane. “I figure she owes Sweetie Belle a solid here.”
“Do you think the drill would be too much?” Hammer Strike questioned as he brought his hoof up, and slid the drill into place.
“Well, that depends. Are you planning on getting close enough to do harm, or just scare–?” Vital started.
The drill on Hammer Strike’s hoof whirred to life, and the motor rumbled menacingly as it revved up to speed, before coming to a calm stop.
“Nice. I’m going to have to stay nearby to watch this in action,” Fox Feather said with a notorious giggle. “I’ve heard about this foal, and I’d say she deserves a good scare.”
Vital Spark groaned. “Why do I get the feeling something tonight is not going to go well?”
“Probably because it’s a Tuesday,” Zelda said as she pulled down her mask. “Weird stuff always happens on a Tuesday.”
“Between me and Hammer Strike, we could probably take out a zombie army with just what we have on us. I think we’re safe.” Grif chuckled.
Link just pulled out his wooden sword, and held it dramatically in his hoof, before letting out a mighty yell as he lunged forward, and attacked a scraggly patch of grass. Surprisingly, the grass bent, then broke, and fell over in a single gust that rendered the stalks rootless.
“If he can do that with wood, I shudder to think what he could do with a real sword,” Vital Spark said in Draconic.
“What would have scared me more was if he found rupees or candy from cutting the grass,” Pensword replied.
“Well, we’ve stood around talking for a few paragraphs longer than necessary. Let's get this show on the road,” Grif said as he placed a wing on either of his wives’ backs, and let the little ones settle calmly as they giggled to one another.
“Wait, what?” Pensword asked. “That sounds like something Pinkie Pie would say.”
“It’s Grif, Pensword. What would you expect? Pinkie always was his favorite,” Vital pointed out.
“Well, all right. I suppose you have a point.” Pensword turned. “Get that door open, Demos. And no drinking till we get back!” he barked as he prepared to march with his crew of pirates towards Ponyville. He grinned, looking to Moon River. “Ready to have fun, my little captain?”
Moon River just nodded with a confident smirk as the foals cheered, while Link spun in a circle with a victorious yell. The gates boomed open, even as the Demos wept, and the party marched on to Ponyville, and a night of candy and adventure.
Ponyville was full of activity, as was usually the case on Nightmare Night. Houses were decorated with spider webs, jack o'lanterns, and other such things. Foals moved excitedly around, showing off their costumes, and attempting to gain candy at the various doors (or a muffin in the case of the Hooves family, but they were just as sought after) in the market place. Stands normally full of fresh fruit and vegetables had been decorated and lined with pumpkin pasties and other treats in the spirit of the season. There would be no salesponies tonight. As was tradition, everything offered was free for everyone to enjoy.
Games had been set up, and groups of Ponies tried eagerly to hit targets with a spider, or get the projection just right on their board makeshift catapults to hurl their pumpkins to the desired spot. Music played on a nearby stage, provided by the legendary DJ PON3. Overall, the atmosphere was one of joy and calm as the group made their way into town.
“Looks like the girls really went all out for the presentation tonight. I didn’t know Octavia even had an electric cello,” Vital Spark said as he looked toward the stage, where the two partners played spooky and upbeat music, complete with acrobatics.
“Aye. It’s a very pretty picture.” Grif chuckled as he worked on getting into character. “Makes you wonder how many of them are wearing a mask.”
“Are we speaking literal or metaphorical?” Vital asked.
“I don’t know, but I am prepared to give a speech or story about the outfits.” Pensword paused, and switched to Draconic. “I can’t wait to get our military tech to the civilian tech levels.”
Vital rolled his eyes. “Not yet, Vulpix,” he groaned. “Besides, tonight should be about having fun, not focusing on tech advancements and army building.”
“And I have a few stories that need to be told on this night.” Grif chuckled as he returned the group to Equish. “Isn’t that right, my dears?” he asked the twins. Both of them giggled, and sliced at the air, while making threatening noises that really made them sound all the cuter.
“They’ll be the most adorable little terrors at the carnival,” Avalon said with a smile as she ran a talon under each of their beaks.
“Just wait till they get old enough to start training,” Shrial said.
“Yes. And then we’ll see just how much damage they can do.” Grif chuckled as he nuzzled each of them. “But for tonight, they’ll have to serve as intimidation, I fear.”
“But they’re so cute!” Vital said. Athena proceeded to nip his ear as Grif walked by.
Vital winced. “Okay, might have deserved that one,” he admitted.
“So I guess this is the place where we split up,” Grif noted. “We’re headed to The Punch Bowl to set up.”
“I think Moon River and the foals will want to do some candy gathering first. Meet you at the punch bowl later for the tribute ceremony?” Pensword asked.
“We’re not obligated to do the tribute part,” Grif noted. “We’re not collecting candy, and I think Luna would appreciate the stories as a tribute more, anyway.”
“Do you want us to at least share some of our candy with you?”
“We’ll be fine.” Grif chuckled. “Well, I’ll be. You’d have to ask the girls. The twins are too young yet.”
Pensword looked to Shrial and Avalon. “So, can I give them some candy later on, or should that be holden to next year?”
“Definitely next year, Pensword. This is a crucial stage in setting up a proper diet for them. We’d rather not ruin it by getting them hooked on sugar,” Avalon said.
“You have no idea how hard it is not to have any when I have to nurse these girls,” Shrial said with a shudder. “Denying a girl chocolate cake for that long should be a crime.”
“When the girls are weaned, dear, I promise we’ll find you the best chocolate cake we can,” Grif said as he kissed her cheek. “Even if I have to bribe Celestia’s pastry chef to get it.”
“You flatter me, stranger,” Shrial said playfully as she pecked him on the cheek. “Such a warm response from one who’s supposed to have such a cold heart.”
Pensword shook his head. “Well, you have fun. We’ll meet up when we are done with our candy run. Okay, children, cast off! We set sail for adventure!” He drew his sword, and swished it about in the air to the cheers of his motley pirate crew mates, before they made their way as a family into the carnival and the homes of the square to seek after those delicious treats.
Vital Shrugged. “I guess I’ll just sort of nose around a bit, see what the celebration’s like. This is my first Nightmare Night, after all,” he said with a wink. “I’ll catch you guys later, Grif.” With a casual salute, Vital disappeared into the crowds as he navigated towards the booths and party tables.
“Well, I guess I might as well start at the classics,” Vital said to himself as he approached the star-studded red tent with its sheltering entry flap. There wasn’t any sign of rain, but he supposed this just was how most of these types of fortune teller tents were designed. A purple-pink mist flowed out from inside, and a musty darkness kept him from seeing whichever Pony was in charge of the readings this year, at least from the entrance. He casually walked in, and, eventually, approached the table, though there was no sign of the fortune teller just yet.
“Hello?” he called.
“Welcome, wanderer. If you’ve come seeking knowledge about your future, and what it may hold, you’ve come to the right place.” Blue smoke that smelled strongly of lilac filled the room as the familiar voice echoed. “You have come to the Omniscient and All-knowing Madame Trixie!” The smoke cleared as quickly as it came in, and there, sitting on the opposite end of the tent, was Trixie, dressed in a powder-blue robe, and a matching turban with a red feather sprouting from the front center.
“Exchanged the Great and Powerful for the Omniscient and All-knowing, eh, Trixie?” Vital asked with a chuckle. “I might have known you’d be asked to run this tent.”
“Trixie knows that sometimes titles must be exchanged for the sake of the character. You do not come to one who is powerful to see the future, and you don’t go to one who is omniscient to move mountains.”
“Or defeat giant ursas?” he teased.
Trixie blushed, and cleared her throat. “Yes. Well, have you come to Madame Trixie to have your future seen, or simply to laugh?” she asked.
“Naturally, I came to see my future. You know, I’ve never once been to a fortuneteller’s tent at a carnival before. And better yet, this is my first Nightmare Night,” he said with a wink. “Do you think you can help make it a memorable one?”
Trixie blushed a little deeper. “W-well, we shall see what we shall see. First, Madame Trixie needs her crystal ball!” Trixie’s horn glowed, and a ring of candles on the table before them lit in perfect sync. Smoke far too thick to come from simple candles began emanating from them. “Spirits! Hear Madame Trixie, and send unto her the orb that shall light this poor pilgrim’s future to her!” As she spoke, she gestured dramatically with her hooves, and the pillars of smoke coming from the candles swirled together. Instead of rising, the smoke seemed to billow into the center of the table, forming a perfect spherical shape. Trixie suddenly brought her hooves heavily onto the table, and the candles extinguished. The smoke dissipated to reveal a large glass orb glowing an almost haunting raspberry light before them.
Vital whistled. “Very nice,” he said appreciatively.
“You don’t spend years putting on a stage show without learning how to be flashy,” Trixie noted.
“I’m curious, though. How did you change your magical aura? Or is this part with the assistance of another Unicorn from town? Or is it, perhaps, as they say in show biz, smoke and mirrors?”
“A good magician never reveals her secrets.” She chuckled. “Now, shall we see what the spirits say about your future?”
“Do lets. I’m rather excited about this.”
“Place both hooves on the table, and, no matter what happens, do not do magic. It will interfere with what Trixie will see,” she said with more dramatic gestures over the ball.
“From past to future, and future to past. All time is an eternal round,” Vital said cryptically as he placed his hooves onto the table. “Let us see what the wheel of fate has to show, shall we?”
Trixie’s eyes glowed in unison with the crystal ball as she gestured, her voice becoming eerie and dual-toned. “Great knowledge and adventure lie in your future. Weather the storm, for the path to power is slow, but you shall see the end.”
“Considering we’re both being taught by Clover the Clever, I’d say that’s definitely an accurate statement,” Vital agreed.
“Love will follow you like the waves follow the wind. Be warned, for the tide will swell, and you must avoid being swept up in the waves. Many will profess their love for you, but the direction in which you sail is your own choice.”
That one made Vital blush. “Okay, I guess I deserved that one, after the teasing,” he admitted.
“You have traveled far, and will travel farther still. As you have said, time is an eternal round. Be ready for the first step, and don’t shrink back from it.” Vital Spark missed the eerie ripple that went through Trixie’s voice when she said that.
“Anything else?”
“Danger will soon come to you. Be wary of the colors blue, orange, and purple together. Be wary of the song from the sea. It will seek to bind you. Beware.” With that, Trixie let out a gasp, before falling back as the crystal ball sparked a few times, before exploding into a cloud of smoke.
“Um . . . Trixie, are you okay?” Vital asked, after a few seconds.
“Fine!” Trixie shot up immediately. “Trixie is fine. That was . . . completely intentional. Trixie meant it all for the performance. Yes, the performance!” She grinned as she drew herself up, even as her eyes darted nervously back and forth. “And how did Trixie do? Did she startle? Did she amaze?”
“You certainly did an amazing job,” Vital Spark said with a nod. “Though I think you might want to add confuse to the list. Which is good!” he added quickly. “A fortune shouldn’t always be straightforward, after all. Sometimes they need an air of mystery.”
"Trixie thanks you for your praise. Unfortunately, Trixie is sure there was quite a line up behind you, and she must set up for the next person,” she said.
“Of course, of course,” Vital agreed. “The work of a fortune teller is never finished. Many still seek the counsel of the Omniscient and All-knowing Madame Trixie. I shall leave the mighty medium to her work. May you find much success on this night, when the veil between the realms is at its thinnest, and might and magic are most potent. Until we meet again, great lady, farewell.” Vital Spark bowed, then gave her a playful wink, before making his way back to the entrance. “I’ll make sure to tell everypony about you. You’ll be swamped by night’s end. I guarantee it.”
Trixie waited until he’d left, then pulled the poles out from the tent flap, and let it fall. Her horn glowed, and a sign appeared outside labeled Back in Five Minutes, before she fainted in a swoon.
Rainbow Dash laughed from her place on the thunder cloud she’d just set off. Two screaming fillies retreated in the distance, while three more cowered in a corner as the giant creature approached with its glowing portholes, and deep, creaking groans. A menacing shadow with glowing yellow eyes rose from the top of the creature’s helmet, and the three little fillies screamed.
“We’re done for!” Scootaloo wailed.
“They won’t even know what happened to us,” Applebloom sniffled. “I wish my big sis was here.”
“It’ll be okay, girls. I promise. Just . . . just give me some time to think,” Dinky said as her eyes darted left and right.
The shadow cocked its head, then stepped into the light to reveal Sweetie Belle. “It’s just me, Crusaders,” she assured them. “You really think Rainbow Dash would let you get eaten by a real monster on her watch?”
Scootaloo blushed. “O-oh . . . right.” She chuckled nervously.
“Sweetie Belle,” Apple Bloom whined. “That wasn’t very nice.”
Sweetie Belle hopped off the creature’s head, and went to nuzzle her friends. “Sorry about that. Rainbow Dash and Hammer Strike said it’d be the best way to get at Diamond and Silver Spoon. He doesn’t like seeing bullies putting down other Ponies.”
Dinky approached the creature that had now been identified as Hammer Strike, and pulled out a typical showman’s magic wand. She held it in her magical grip, and the top opened to reveal a little light that made a familiar whirring sound as she ran the wand over the costume. Then she pulled it back to her, and a tiny panel opened to reveal a display that she read over.
“Interesting. It appears you’re using a variety of conductive magical crystals to ensure a Pony to Pony conversation on a unique frequency. And others to give the creepy lights and groaning sounds. The unique chemical composition seems to indicate a mixture of those mined from beneath Canterlot, shipped from the Crystal Empire, and, if I’m not mistaken, a unique blend not found in any known database. I wonder what vectors you must have utilized to synthesize it,” she spouted.
“Say what now?” Apple Bloom asked.
A loud ‘clunk’ sounded from Hammer Strike, followed by a faint hiss. “She’s saying I put way too much effort into this costume, and it was worth it.”
“Did you see the looks on their faces?” Rainbow Dash gushed as she zipped in behind the girls. “That. Was. AWESOME!”
“It was fun.” Hammer Strike chuckled. “A shame I didn’t get to use any other part of the costume, besides the weight and noise.”
“I don’t think we wanted to scare them that much, Hammer Strike,” Sweetie said. “I mean, I know I wouldn’t want to be in front of that. But, if we caught them alone, that’d be a different story.”
“And that’s just half the fun.”
“Half the fun?” Apple Bloom asked. “Wadaya mean, Hammer Strike?”
“The other half of scaring individuals. Just watch for the paranoia.”
“You mean just sorta intimidate ‘em?”
A faint chuckle sounded from Hammer Strike. “We’ve already done that part. Keep an eye on them tonight.”
“Um . . . this isn’t going to hurt them, right? I mean, yeah, they’re mean, but we don’t want them to be, uh . . . what’s the word your big sister would use, Sweetie Belle?” Scootaloo asked.
“Scarred for life?”
“Yeah, that!”
“Oh, no. I’ve already done everything I needed to. All I have to do now is just walk around, and their own paranoia will follow. This suit makes a very distinctive noise, after all.”
A faint chuckle followed as Hammer Strike twisted the helmet once more with a clunk.
“Come on, girls. Let’s get your mind off of this, and get some cotton candy. My treat,” Rainbow Dash said. The girls’ eyes instantly widened as they shook with excitement. All except for Dinky.
“Aren’t the treats all supposed to be free tonight?” she queried.
“Cutie Mark Candy Crusaders!” the trio shouted together.
Dinky giggled, and shrugged. “I guess this is what Daddy feels like sometimes, when he’s explaining things to mommy,” she said to Hammer Strike, before turning to see the girls had already gotten ahead of her. “Hey, girls, wait up!” She immediately hastened to catch them as Hammer Strike followed behind.
The Punch Bowl was blacked out when the foals entered. The only light came from the fireplace, where the barest silhouette of a figure sitting in a chair could be made out. The foals in question were herded towards the spot by a zombie Berry Punch carrying a torch.
“So.” The voice from the figure in the chair was low, and dark, with an almost gravelly texture to it. “I hear you all have come to my parlour looking for a story?”
“Yeah,” Pipsqueak cheered from the head of his crew. Gryphons and Ponies alike stood behind, each looking on to the great brooding creature. Grif’s metal gauntlets clanked ominously as the interlocking plates along his talons clicked against one another. An ominous blue glow shone behind him from a large sword, and his eyes glowed a bloody red as his fangs glinted in the firelight.
“Slave! Bring me another drink,” he hissed, and there was a bumbling sound as Berry quickly ran up to him, carrying a large crystal goblet filled with a viscous red fluid. Sneaking a wink at her, he swiped the goblet, and took a drink, letting the fluids drip down his beak savagely. When he finished, he wiped his beak, and grinned. The gauntlets on his arms ignited in orange fire, and then candles all around him suddenly began to burst into flame, creating just enough light to cast spooky shadows.
“What’ve you got for us today, Grif?” Pipsqueak asked.
“Tell me, pets, how many of you have cats at home?” he asked.
Some few raised their hooves.
“Do you take good care of them?” he asked.
They nodded eagerly.
“Well, after this story, you all may want to give them another treat tonight. The boy in my story liked cats, too. In fact, he liked to draw them, a skill that saved his life. Gather ‘round, children, as I relate to you my tale of the boy who liked to draw cats.”
One of the Gryphon cubs scoffed. “A story about drawing cats? Really?”
“It all started in a country not all that different from Neighpon, in a small village, in a small house that contained a large family. . ..”
Twilight giggled as she skipped along the wooden floor of her library with a spring in her step, just like Pinkie Pie, including sound effects. An explorer’s belt had been strapped across her chest, and over her shoulder. A simple white shirt, and a set of thick cargo pants completed the ensemble with the adventurer’s pack and a thick black leather book with gold-embossed characters.
“I can’t believe you guys are all here! This is so exciting. I get to show you around Ponyville, and we get to take the foals out to get sweets, and then you’ll all get to see Princess Luna’s show!”
“Princess Luna has a show?” Cosy asked as he cocked his head in confusion. His tight green spandex suit clung to his frame, accenting the beginnings of muscle that had formed from the guard training Shining had placed him through after the events that had unfolded at Gryphonia. A toy dagger with little holes along one side of its blade had been included, and a green helmet with a crystalline visor hovered at his side in his magical grip.
Cadence giggled in her glittering snowy gown. A gossamer fringe had been included around the shoulders and breast, and her mane had been styled into two large balls that trailed back in luxurious ponytails alongside her mane. Shining stood by her side with a loving hoof around her shoulders. A set of thick pauldrons jutted out from his shoulders as a flowing red cape fluttered against his back. A thick blue suit flowed up his forelegs, and down his torso, with some minor breast plating, and thicker enforcement down by his waist. A longsword hung casually in its scabbard, and his hair had been styled with a part over his bangs, which shone from the gel that had been used to style it.
“She has a soft spot for Ponyville this time of year,” Cadence explained.
Alto giggled happily with her sister. She was dressed in a leather smock with soot that had been smeared artfully on her face and hooves. A small forging hammer had been tied to her side, next to one of the bulging smock pockets.
“Then what are we waiting for? It’s time for us to have some fun. Come on, Alto!” Cosy cheered as he raced towards the library’s door.
A light purple aura surrounded the colt, lifting him up in the air. “Hold on a minute, Cosy. I know you’re excited, but we need to make sure everypony’s ready, before we head out. Has everypony got their knapsacks?” Shining asked.
“I thought you weren’t going to be participating this year, Shining,” Cadence said teasingly.
Shining blushed. “Well, somepony has to keep an eye on them,” he protested.
“As I recall, Shining always had a bit of a sweet tooth,” Twilight said with a giggle. “Don’t worry, BBBFF, I’m sure Cosy and Alto won’t mind if you tag along, right?”
Cosy and Alto did their best to suppress their snarks and giggles. Naturally, they failed most spectacularly.
“Careful, you two. I also was known as the scare master growing up,” Shining said as an evil gleam shone in his eye. “Don’t tempt me to turn those skills on you.”
Suddenly, and without warning, a high-pitched scream echoed behind Shining Armor. “PEN PINEAPPLE APPLE PEN!”
There wasn’t much time for Pinkie to react after Shining’s sword stopped less than half an inch away from the party pony’s throat, or this was his intention, as he found the blade locked in the spikes of two sais held firm by an outrageously pink ninja.
“Pinkie!” Twilight chided with a pout. “You know Shining’s been on edge since Sombra came back. You apologize to him right now!”
“Calm down, Twilight,” Cadence said as she shook her head. “It’s Nightmare Night.”
“The bestest, most awesomest night to be scared to pieces!” Pinkie cheered as she popped up between the two younger royal siblings, and slid a cupcake into each of their sacks, before pulling them in next to her for an awkward face smooshing, grinning combo. To further emphasize her point, her foreleg popped off, and broke into three parts on the floor. She then proceeded to pick up each segment, and shove them back onto her body.
“How did . . .?” Cadence began.
“It’s Pinkie Pie, Cadence. Don’t question it,” Twilight suggested. “It’s better for your sanity in the long run.”
“Neat!” Cosy said. “How’d you do that?”
Pinkie giggled. “It’s an old family secret. Grannie Pie taught me.”
“You think you could teach us?” Alto asked.
“Sorry. Granny Pie said I had to keep it to myself. But I’ll tell you what, how about I take you to the best place for sweets around town? Everypony knows me here, and I know my candy,” she sang.
“Well what are we waiting for?” Cosy asked as he levitated the dagger to his hooves, and began to play it like a flute. A powerful trumpeting fanfare greeted everypony’s ears. “Let’s go. It’s candy time!” he shouted as he struck a dramatic pose. The rest of the room promptly burst into a fit of laughter as they made their way out into the night.
“And as the colt walked through the halls of the monastery–” Grif kept his tone low and cool “–every cat he had drawn stood staring watchfully, each ready to pounce with fresh blood running from their claws and fangs.”
“You mean they were alive?” one of the foals asked. “But . . . were they going to try to eat him, then?”
“He loved to draw so much, and he drew so well, that he was able to harness that love, and put it into his drawings,” Grif explained. “And because of that, they loved him, and protected him. After all, what better to kill a rat than a cat?” It was at this time that a Thestral appeared from the shadows, and whispered into Grif’s ear. “It seems, my friends, that our dear Princess is on her way.”
“Princess Luna is coming?” Pipsqueak’s eyes widened as he took a deep breath. “Oh boy, oh boy, oh boy!” The other pirates soon picked up on his enthusiasm. “That means it’s time to get our treats over to the statue! You guys are gonna love it!” he told the Gryphons.
Grif swiped with a wing, and the candles all went out simultaneously. Grif stood by the firelight once again, only now shielded by one of his wings. The gilded skeletal structure gleamed in the low light.
Some of the foals screamed in utter fright, while others screamed in utter delight.
Grif looked over the edge of his wing, his red eyes glowing brighter in the dark as the sound of drums, oboes, and clarinets began to filter in through the open windows, while the shutters clattered against the wall. slammed open. “Colts and fillies of every age, wouldn’t you like to see something strange. . .?”
Alto ran through the paths of Ponyville quickly. She’d slipped away during the heartsong somepony had started, and was now looking for Hammer Strike. She stopped a princess and her servant in the streets, asking if they had seen the smith, or knew where she might find him.
The pony dressed as a princess shook her head, and seemed scared at the mention of the lord’s name, before trying to sneak away. The servant only pointed a shaking hoof towards an alleyway. Alto grinned, and took off, following the unspoken direction.
“Hammerstrike? Hammerstrike!” Alto called out as she looked around.
A loud groan responded to the calls, followed by heavy thud.
“Who’s there?” she called out in surprise as she grabbed her smithing hammer.
Hammer Strike rounded a corner, still fully encased in his costume as the green lights of the diving suit almost seemed to focus on Alto.
Alto took an involuntary step back. Then, mustering what strength she could, she tossed her hammer at the thing in front of her. It pinged ineffectively off the lower part of the helmet.
Hammer Strike sat down, and reached up towards his helmet, turning it with a hiss once more. After a moment, he let out a faint chuckle. “Quite the effective attack, Alto.”
“Hammer Strike?” She squeaked, then blushed. “S-sorry.”
“It’s quite fine. I didn’t know you were coming down to Ponyville for Nightmare Night. I take it the others are here as well?”
Alto nodded “Cady wanted us to see what it was like, before the empire starts doing it next year.”
“Ah. Are you enjoying your night so far? Though I’m unsure when you started your adventure.”
She nodded again. “Everypony was singing a funny song earlier about Nightmare Night.”
“Have you gathered much candy?”
She shook her head. “The ponies I passed by gave me a few pieces, but we haven’t been here that long.”
“Then perhaps Sweetie Belle and myself could assist you, right?” Hammer Strike replied, before faintly turning to his side.
“Hiya, Alto! Nice to meetcha’! I’m Sweetie Belle, Rarity’s little sister.” The cute little foal extended a hoof, and let loose the full devastating power of her cute smile.
Alto took it shyly. “I’m Alto Viola Cadenza,” she said, “but I prefer Alto.”
“So, you wanna get some candy, huh?” Sweetie asked as she opened her sack. “Show me what you’ve got so far.”
Alto pulled a few different candies and a sucker from her pocket.
“I meant your bag, silly.” Sweetie giggled. “Come on.”
Alto pulled out her bag, which was empty.
Sweetie Belle immediately turned her sack over, and poured half her bag into Alto’s. “There. now we can join everypony else at the statue, and get more treats after,” she said with a satisfied smile.
“Thank you,” Alto said as her smile widened in gratitude. She leaned in, and hugged Sweetie Belle as hard as she could manage.
“What else are friends for?” Sweetie asked. “Now come on. You don’t wanna miss Princess Luna. She’s amazing!”
Alto followed Sweetie excitedly, taking a moment to retrieve her hammer, and dust off the dirt that had accumulated on its handle and edges after the fall.
“Say, Hammer Strike, do you have enough room on your back for the both of us?” Sweetie asked.
“Easily,” Hammer Strike replied as he lowered himself.
Alto climbed up happily.
“Perhaps you could give her one of the spare crystals?” Hammer Strike said as he turned his helmet once more, before standing up.
“Oh, yeah.” Sweetie reached behind, and pulled out a crystal from her pocket. “This’ll let you understand what Hammer Strike is saying. While he’s got that helmet on, nobody can hear him but us.” She giggled. “You should’ve seen some of the other girls’ faces when they saw us together.”
“Wow,” Alto said, taking the crystal carefully, and putting it into her smithing apron’s pocket.
“Yup.” She giggled. “Now come on, Mister B. We’ve got a ceremony to get to!” she said as she struck the helmet lightly. “Yeehaw!”
Hammer Strike chuckled as he turned. “Wouldn’t want to be late now, would we?”
The group of pirates were all gathered together in a horseless cart, with a treasure chest full of candy shaped and wrapped to look like bits. They all grinned as they hefted a smaller chest for their tribute. Two Lunar guards struggled in the back as they tried to remove the gags over their mouths. Their hooves and wings had been securely tied down with so many knots, even the cleverest of Unicorns would take some time to undo them all. Moon River sniffled as she nuzzled Cosy, while the rest of the foals gave the guards dirty looks. It was pretty obvious what had happened, and the foals would have none of it.
Pensword couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight. His daughter certainly knew how to rally people around her. That would make a useful trait in her later years. The fuses in his beard filled the air with smoke as he roved through the night, and his eyes glowed in the moonlight to compliment the so-called fiend fire he had produced. Pipsqueak and Tall Tale had also dressed as pirates, and had joined the group during their adventures. Toy swords and daggers had been stuffed into their cloth belts to slap their flanks as they walked.
Pensword had plans to put the guards with the candy offering, alongside a note explaining what they had done. Once Luna found out, he had a feeling this little indecency would only be the start of their punishment.
Zecora chuckled as she took her place in front of the statue of Nightmare Moon, and beckoned with her hooves for peace. The stirring and the singing died as she stood perfectly poised atop her bo-staff.
“Welcome, Ponies. Come, gather round. A glorious tale is to be found by those of you who are stout of heart. The rest of you need not take part, for Nightmare Night is a time of scares. For those who fright easy, you’d best beware.” She shut her eyes, then opened them again to reveal a bright yellow glow as she rose into the air. Her dark robes fluttered behind her, and her free-flowing mane hung weightless as she reached into a side pocket, and threw clouds of yellow powder into the air to sift slowly towards the ground.
She laughed, and a flash of lightning clashed across the sky. “Listen close, my little dears. I’ll tell you where you got your fears of Nightmare Night, so dark and scary. Of Nightmare Moon, who makes you wary. Once a princess, long ago, in beauty she ruled o’er her subjects below. But those whom she loved did shun her night, and clung, instead, to the greater light.”
With a wave of her hooves, the powder shifted to take on the forms of Ponies adoring an Alicorn with a golden sun curling behind her, while the other side portrayed a smaller filly with a crescent moon behind her. No Ponies stood by her side. Instead, all that could be seen were a series of little houses.
“She hid her grief, and bore it well as more Ponies fell under the greater light’s spell. For while she had less than the greater light, she still had her own children of the night.”
The houses shifted to create tiny Thestrals that flew around the Alicorn of the moon.
“Yet those who were driven by hatred and fear would not suffer her children to gather near. In time, these children of the day, they drove the children of night away.”
Zecora blew the clouds of Thestrals into the air, dispersing them, and leaving a sad and confused Alicorn of the moon behind.
“With none to give comfort, adoration, relief, our princess was lost in a sea of grief. And so, in blinding light of day, the elder’s duties held the sway, and she stood blind to the moon child’s plight, enthralled as she was in the new limelight that, to her, had become the norm, while rage and jealousy slowly took form.”
The image of the moon princess dropped several tears that slowly drifted towards the ground. As she cried, the motes slowly began to part in her chest, leaving a hole that could clearly been seen through to the other side. Zecora blew two tiny puffs of red and green that filled the void, but none would mingle, and the two churned within the image’s chest, disrupting the remainder of the image as it struggled to hold itself together.
“At last, the time came. She would take it no more. The time had come to settle the score. Cold and abandoned, rejected and cursed, her kind, gentle heart, it suddenly burst.”
The red and green powders lashed out, violently exploding the image of the Alicorn, and leaving a swirling formlessness that heaved and lashed as it floated towards Zecora’s extended hoof. The foals gasped at the spectacle.
“As blackest emotions bore fruit in the child, they altered her magic, until it went wild.”
More powders sifted in. Ugly purple, a weepy blue, a sickly mustard yellow.
“Hatred, sorrow, fear, and more drove darkest magic to the fore. No more would the kind smile grace that face. Now all would see the cold void of space. They would feel as she had, forsaken, alone. They would know her pain. They all would atone.”
The powders mixed, swirling closer and closer together, but rather than creating a rainbow, their colors drained, until all that remained was a glossy black substance that slicked together to form a taller, more imposing Alicorn. Another puff of dust, and the thick blue battle armor appeared as its dark mane billowed behind like a cloud of ink. It reared, and pantomimed a whinny of defiance. The mane stretched to consume the sun that sat behind the other Alicorn as the Ponies that had adored the figure scattered on a sudden wind, leaving only the buffeted Alicorn of the sun.
“What happened then? Well, you know the rest. The elder sealed with six elements blessed to banish the forces of chaos and dark, but on sister and land, Nightmare Moon left her mark. The fear from the children of the day gave birth to this mischievous holiday.”
The battle played out as Zecora had described it, and Twilight shuddered from her place in the back, as if recalling an unpleasant memory. Shining wrapped a reassuring hoof around his little sister, and Cadence nuzzled her gently with a kindly smile.
“This story now must come to an end, but first, a moral to help my young friends. Often, the past can prove unpleasant, but it is the road that leads us to the present. So keep the flames of remembrance lit. Forgetting the past dooms all to repeat it.”
With a sweep of her hooves, and a twirl of her dress, the dust rose to conceal the statue of Nightmare Moon, and the wise Zebra herself. “So offer your gifts, and show her you care. Her goodness lives on, so evil doers beware,” Zecora’s voice echoed as the winds picked up, swirling the dust higher still, until it formed a towering cyclone. The Zebra’s laughter slowly warped and changed as it rose in volume, until the very trees themselves shook. Then, with a final burst, the cloud dispersed to reveal a very much familiar, and towering form.
Luna smiled down as the crowd in her larger Nightmare Moon form. Rather than the false teeth she had used last time, she’d found a spell to temporarily lengthen her own fangs. Her armor had been freshly polished for the occasion, and a wicked looking scythe hung dangerously in her magic. She gave it a few swings with practiced flare. “Well don’t you all look positively–” she licked her lips “–delicious?” She laughed. “So which of you is brave enough to approach me first?”
Pipsqueek gulped as he slowly stepped forward with a small bag with the image of Nightmare Moon on it. As he moved to shake the bag’s contents onto the ground at the pedestal’s base, he shivered, and did his best to hide the smile that was threatening to creep up on his face, and ruin the fun. “I’ve got a lot better treats than last year. Pinkie made her special maple donuts!”
The scythe spun in several flashing circles, before the tip speared the donut in question, then carried the confection to the mare’s mouth. There was a tense moment before several strands of mane and fur seemed to pop free of pipsqueaks body and float away on the wind. Despite herself, a bit of drool showed as the scent wafted into her nostrils. “Your offering is accepted, but, please, I am not here to accept charity.” With that, the donut flew off the scythe’s edge, and was promptly divided in two by a skilled cut that slammed into the ground, dividing the pile in two as well. She pushed the larger share back to Pipsqueak. “From now on, foals ten and older will only be expected to give a small share of their candy to me. Foals nine and under should only offer me a piece, though I will accept these . . . donuts of yours, should you wish to substitute,” she said as she ate one half, and passed the other back to Pipsqueak.
Pipsqueak squeed in pleasure as he devoured the other half of the donut. The other children were more than a little excited at the news. Now they’d be able to keep even more candy to themselves! This Nightmare Moon was awesome!
Next came Pinkie in her neon pink uniform. “Let’s see. I’ve got more donuts, cupcakes, brownies, ooh, super duper triple dark chocolate fudge! You’ll like those. And I’ve got so much more to share! You don’t mind if I give you more than everypony else, right, Moonie? Right? Right?” the party Pony asked as she stretched her neck to cartoonish proportions to get into the princess’ face.
“Of course.” Nightmare Moon chuckled. “I would be a fool to turn those away.”
“Indeed you would. Throw away my sweets, and they shall be avenged,” Pinkie said in an emotionless voice that sent chills down everypony’s spines. Then she pulled out a kunai, and used it to cut a cupcake, before popping one half in her mouth, and the other into Nightmare Moon’s. Then she giggled, and threw down a pellet that broke into sweet-smelling bubble gum smoke. When it cleared, the ninja was nowhere to be seen.
And so it went for the next hour or so, until only one group of foals had yet to give their offering.
Moon River stood proudly at the front of her pirate crewmembers as each offered their candy in accordance with the new proclamation. As a last offering, The two lunar guards were tossed on top of the bed of candy, still gagged and bound with sour expressions on their faces. If they’d been sitting on clouds, they’d doubtless have become thunderheads.
“Oh, and you bring me these two. Are they your prisoners? Deserters?” Nightmare Moon asked in mock rage.
Pensword spoke up, while Moon River glared with slitted and narrowed eyes at the two guards. “They scared Moon River to the point of tears.”
“Oh, really?” Nightmare Moon’s face turned to the guards. “Is this true?”
The two guards mumbled through their gags, and tried to move, but to no avail. They had been tied too well. It was likely they would need to be cut free, before they could move again.
Nightmare Moon’s horn flared, and her shadow loomed up from the ground with turquoise eyes blazing in anger as it pounced the two. For a moment, they where gone from sight. Then it was as though nothing had been there in the first place as the discarded ropes fell to the ground.
Moon River and the children all stared wide-eyed. Some of the other children shuddered or trembled. They had never seen such an act performed in their rather short lives before. Moon River, however, uttered no sounds of fear, nor did she tremble. Instead, she cooed in excitement, and her eyes shone with desire. It was a look Pensword knew only too well, along with his spouses. The three parents tried their best to quietly dissuade their child from seeking the knowledge to perform such feats of magic. Such things were not within the scope of a Thestral, or at least they hadn’t for many generations.
“Best to leave it for now, my loyal buccaneer,” Nightmare Moon purred out. “The shadows are my domain, just as the sea is yours.”
Moon River pouted hard, and folded her forelegs in a manner that, thankfully, Grif got a picture of to give to the parents later for their photo album. Still, she finally relented her pout as Inigo gave her one of the donuts that Luna liked. She nibbled on it, and then her mouth widened into a playful grin as she let out a giggle. “Moon,” she replied, pointing to Nightmare Moon. She couldn’t say Nightmare yet, but at least she was progressing.
For the first time that night, Luna’s mask almost broke as the lunar princess took a minute to regain her composure. “I suppose everyone's tribute tonight was . . . adequate,” she said, doing her best to sound nonchalant. “Sadly, the time has come for me to go, and barter with the creatures of the night. Until next year, I’ll see you in your nightmares,” she said, before breaking into her trademark evil laugh. The pile of tribute candy and the scythe all dissipated into a fine blue mist that rose to consume the entire statue and the mare in the moon. A stray breeze blew the mist away to reveal the statue of Nightmare Moon, looking exactly as it had before.
Moon River clapped, and cheered at the display, while Pipsqueak laughed at her giggling, only to find himself top heavy as Moon River barreled into him, knocking him on his side to hiss in his ear, before nipping it for good measure. Then she jumped into the air, and glided to land on Cosy’s back, where she began to nom his ear, instead.
Pensword looked incredulously at his daughter. “Okay. . .. I guess she didn’t like Pip’s laugh?”
Moon River just stuck out her tongue in response as everypony returned to town for the last festivities of the night, before preparing for bed.
One advantage to having a Black Tip for a messenger, Grif mused to himself as he sorted letters and correspondence from the empire, was that he no longer had to worry about any of the contents being false information from intercepted messages. He separated everything between military information regarding the coup, information in regards to Grask’s supporters (those that still lived, anyway), and updates on the status of the Farflyer clan and the new Winds Father. Strangely enough, when all was sorted, Grif found himself with one envelope left over.
It was a deep scarlet red affair with heavy gold filigree around the edges and the lip. It held no words other than To The Bladefeather Clan. The wax seal was gold, and proudly displayed Daedalus’ seal. Grif was just about to break the seal when the sound of someone at his door took his attention.
“What’s the meaning of this?” Pensword shouted as he waved an open letter in his wing. “I thought I would be done with this empire business,” he seethed. “What the buck did you drag me into now?”
“I take it I’m missing something?” Grif asked.
Pensword’s eye twitched as he noticed the letter in Grif’s hand. “OPEN IT!” he shouted, pointing to the envelope. “I don’t know which is worse, facing Gryphons that want to eat me or a fanboy Emperor.”
“Pensword, sit down and take a breath while I read this, or so help me, I will get your wife in here to force you to calm down,” Grif said as he broke the seal with a claw.
“That’s the problem. He is requesting my ENTIRE FAMILY! MY CLAN! From Moon River to my Gryphon sons!” Pensword roared back.
“SIT DOWN, AND BREATHE!” The air rippled, causing Grif’s voice to echo far louder than Pensword’s own.
Pensword did as instructed, but his face remained screwed into a frustrated snarl as he looked over the letter again.
“Thank you,” Grif said as he pulled out his piece of folded parchment flipped it open and read.
To the leader of the Bladefeather Clan, Grif Grafson Bladefeather, Avatar of Winds, Savior of the Emperor:
You are hereby requested to be in attendance for the wedding ceremonies of his holiness, Emperor Daedalus, and Lady Melody Prophetess on the thirty fifth of November of this year. Due to the travel required, your lodgings and food shall be taken care through the emperor's own estate. The emperor has requested that you bring no gift, save your blessing on his union. He looks forward to your attendance.
Yours in honor and glory,
~Ian Farflyer, acting steward of the Western Fortress.
“Daedalus has invited us to his wedding. That’s to be expected, I suppose,” Grif noted.
“But I’m the Demon. Why would he want me or any of my blood to be at the wedding, let alone, and I quote, ‘those who have mixed their blood with yours and become your warriors of old?’ I mean, how would he. . . ?” Pensword facehoofed. “Prophetess. How else would he know they insisted on that ceremony on the Giant? How would he know I have Gryphons as sons? And he wants Moon River and my three Thestral ghosts.” His eyes widened, and he began to tremble. “He even wants Lunar Fang there. Literally, the entire Pen clan will be there, plus Cosy, most likely, meaning the blood of the Demon could be wiped out.”
“Highly unlikely,” Grif cut in. “We’re being invited for support, not for an ambush.” He shrugged, and scribbled something on a piece of parchment, then sent it away via dragon fire. “He just survived a coup, and is still outing conspirators. He’s inviting us because he knows he can trust us. After all, the three of us were instrumental in his escape.”
“I know, I know, but this is me on a solo mission. This is me literally trusting a Gryphon that did not give an oath to stuff a pillow for me. I hardly even know him, Grif. Do you realize the trust I have to give, the image this could bring?” He broke off as he pondered that himself. His eyes narrowed. “Clever. That clever Emperor. If he shows that the Demon is at his call, who would really risk standing against him?” He chuckled despite himself as a respectful smile pulled at the edges of his face.
“Well, he is named Daedalus. But, honestly, I think you’re only weighing half the scale on this. There are risks on his end, too, and rewards on ours.”
“Oh?” Pensword asked as he borrowed Hammer Strike’s trademark brow raise.
“Well he’s not inviting Celestia, or Luna, nor an emissary of the Solar Court. This is the first time a Pony has been invited to an imperial wedding,” Grif took a moment to run the figures, “in four hundred years. This could be considered outright Thestral favoritism, if not favoritism toward the Lunar Court. That means it gives you, the court, and Luna a measure of unexpected power.”
Pensword shook his head in disbelief. “That ... Taze– I mean Grif,” he blinked in wonderment. “And it might, and would legitimize–.” He paused. “This is a lot to take in. I think I am going to have to talk with Lunar Fang and Fox Feather about this, not to mention the children, and the Demon Slayers.” He shook his head again. “So much to do.” He paused to look over his invitation once more. “Grif, there are a few gray areas that I don’t quite understand. Could I trouble you for some clarifications?”
“Ask away.” Grif nodded.
“I adopted the original Gryphon Slayers, the Ponies, as part of my clan, seeing as we were brothers and sisters in war. Does that mean I have to bring them as well?”
“Not quite,” Grif noted. “I’m expected to bring my family, but bringing the entire clan would be too much. The same should apply to you. Bring those closest to you, but not the whole tribe.”
Pensword gave a flat look to Grif. “Better stick with blood relations then. The Demon Slayers are close to me, but I think it would likely be better not try to give the Emperor’s guards a heart attack on the first day.”
“It’ll be okay. Heck, we won’t even be gone that long,” Grif offered as his friend headed for the door.
“Well, that is good, but plan for double time anyway. You know how it seems to go when we go off someplace. Maybe we should see if we could make a certain stop on the way home? I Think Cosy would enjoy it,” he noted as he stood, and stretched. “Let me know what you decide. I have some preparations to make.” With that Pensword left the room, and closed the door behind him.
Grif returned to musing over the letter for a time as he waited. He could hear the sound of approaching steps as the rhythm of many many steps echoed outside his door. He shrugged, and continued to wait. After all, Shrial and Avalon would know better than to knock, if they needed to talk to him. And if it was someone else, so much the better. He could use the distraction.
The door opened gingerly as Avalon and Shrial entered, each cradling one of the twins in their arms.
“These girls are as stubborn as their father,” Shrial whispered with a smirk.
“Wouldn’t go to sleep until we rocked them ourselves,” Avalon finished as she gazed lovingly down at Athena.
“So what’s this all about, Grif?” Shrial asked as she rocked Gentle Wing, even as the young Gryphoness cooed and purred in pleasure. “Pensword looked pretty upset.”
“Sit down, girls. We have a few things we need to discuss,” Grif said as he gestured to the empty chairs. “And you both look ready to drop.”
Both Gryphonesses sighed in relief as they laid themselves onto the chairs in question.
“They’re quite the handful,” Avalon said. “Were we ever this bad as cubs, do you think?”
“We must have been at one point,” Shrial said. “Where else would they get it from?” They each looked up at Grif.
“I was raised by a grizzled old warrior. Do you really think Graf bothered telling me if I was a handful or not?” Grif chuckled a bit, and then his face grew serious as he looked at Avalon. “How are you? How's the baby?”
“We’re both fine, Grif. I’m sure he’ll be healthy and strong when he comes, just like his father,” Avalon assured him as she placed a free hand on her side.
“You two need to read this.” Grif handed over the invitation. “Normally, I wouldn’t consider having you travel at this late point, but these are . . . unique circumstances.”
Avalon quirked an eyebrow as she read over the contents. “Grif, are you trying to play politics?” she asked as she handed the message over to Shrial.
“Avalon, our society has three beings who hold the lion’s share of the sway over how things go: the Winds Father, the Emperor, and the Avatar. Daedalus has shown how stupidly well named he is with this move. If I don’t show up, it makes it look like I don’t support him, and that I, who saved him during the coup, have no sense of loyalty. He has to watch his back for the rest of his life, and I have to deal with the possibility of Gryphonia sending people after us again. You know that I’d wade through a sea of blood to keep all of you safe. Unfortunately, instead, fate has deemed I put on a show.”
“And what about Cheshire?” Avalon asked pointedly.
“She has a point, Grif. Chesh is a lot further along,” Shrial agreed.
“Chesh is the leader of her own family at this point. As close as we are, she must decide for her, and the baby, and we must decide for us.” Grif sighed. “Honestly, if it were my choice, I’d tell her not to go, but do you think she’ll listen?”
“Well, she can’t necessarily object if we were to drug her,” Avalon noted. “She does seem to be rather fixated on her tea lately.”
“Avalon!” Shrial objected.
“Can you think of a better way to get her to stay behind? She’d just sneak aboard otherwise, and who knows what that could do to her baby.”
“And in the trade off would be a certain Zebra shamaness who would haunt me for the rest of my life if I dared drug a pregnant female. Seeing as she can manipulate actual spirits, I don’t want to take that chance,” Grif pointed out.
“So confirm she’s dead asleep, then hightail it out of here?” Shrial asked.
“For now, let's just confirm this part. Are you girls willing to go on this trip with me, Kalima, and Thalia to the empire for this? And are we agreed, if so, to bring the twins?” Grif asked.
“We’d need a rather special set of guards, if we’re going to bring the twins with us,” Avalon mused. “You know how tricky they can be together. Why, if they were to team up with Moon River. . ..”
All three of them shuddered.
“Did you have anyone in mind? I know the twins have been strangely fond of Gilda,” Grif noted as he shuffled through some papers.
“Afraid not, Darling. Gilda is certainly a possible choice, though we’re not sure how well she’ll do dealing with the children. She’s never had to babysit before, from what we understand,” Shrial said.
“I’d suggest we try one of our new additions to the family, but to do so would likely put their lives in danger, and draw a larger target on our backs.” Avalon frowned. “That really is rather frustrating.”
“Well, we could request guards from inside the empire. I’m sure your brother would be happy to lend us some, Avalon,” Grif noted.
“What an excellent idea! The girls should get the chance to know their extended family,” Avalon agreed.
“As long as they can put up with their antics. They’ll have to be incredibly clever,” Shrial pointed out. “Otherwise, Athena will run circles around them, and outfly them with her eyes closed and one wing tied behind her back.”
“Well, Avalon’s family is known for having a lot of cubs, so I’m sure they must have people trained for that sort of thing. Isn’t that right, dear?”
Avalon shrugged. “One can only hope.”
“Well then, I suggest you girls make time to see if Rarity can design a couple of dresses for the both of you.” Grif chuckled. “We’ll be leaving on the Gantrithor on the twenty-second.”
“Well, I guess that cancels my plans for the tower for the next few months,” Avalon said with a chuckle. “Ready to play some chess with the empire, Shrial?”
“Of course,” Shrial said with a smirk. “Once we get these two into bed, let’s go strategize a bit, hmm?”
“I like the way you think.”
Grif grinned as he kissed each of his wives on the cheek. “I love my family.”
Pensword walked into Hammer Strike’s office, and his ear twitched as he heard the nib of the quill scratching against the parchment. “Uh, Shawn? I’ve got something to tell you,” he said, not caring whether he was Pony or human. He just felt like he needed to use the human name. Besides, there weren’t any Ponies around to hear it.
Hammer Strike paused his writing as he looked to Pensword. “Yes?”
“We, as in Lunar Fang, Fox Feather, Moon River, the Gryphons I brought from Gryphonia, Grif, his wives, and his cubs have just received a wedding invitation from Emperor Daedalus. That means we’ll need to be heading off while you and Rarity do your honeymoon thing. I wanted to give you a heads up, because, when I tell my wives, I doubt I would get the chance to tell you this for a day or two at least. So, I wanted to give you a heads up. I’ve got my acting officer picked out already, but while I am gone, you can utilize any of the Thestrals for any projects you might need, unless, of course, you have some invite as well, and we don’t know about it.”
He scuffed his hooves on the stony floor. “I was … hoping we could schedule another training session, too. I think I am ready to advance to the next step. I can see or sense the fields, I can make and break down crystals, and, well I am getting good at it.” He took a moment to shuffle through his pockets, before pulling out two crystals and laying gently on the desk. “I made these this morning as part of my morning exercises. I think the field is helping keep Matthew better. I only wish I’d chosen to start sooner. When I take the time to think about it, I think the main reason I was so stubborn about it was because I wanted to learn how to do it as a human, not as a Pony, if that makes any sense.”
“Pony or human, it doesn’t matter. In the end, it depends on the field surrounding the user.”
“Right,” Pensword agreed. “So when is the next lesson? I doubt Grif can teach me while we are away, and, uh, you're not saying anything about the news that we are heading back to the Gryphon Empire.”
“The next major lesson will take time to teach, so that will come at a later point, when your your field is sufficiently strong in accordance with my standards. As for your trip back to the Gryphon empire, I assumed it was bound to happen based on the events I heard from your last trip. Sure, the wedding part surprises me, but aside from that, I knew a return trip was pretty much inevitable.”
“Yeah,” Pensword muttered. “Uh, Shawn, if you don’t mind my asking, well the Matthew part of me and the Pensword part of me, we both want to try and reconnect. Since the thaumic field stuff is going so well, we’d like to know. Can we start again? I mean, we kind of stand on the same footing now, but I ... I am sorry for being so distant and stubborn.”
Hammer Strike shrugged. “We’ve all been busy, and our conversations have dwindled, but it’s just the nature of things. If you want to chat, I’m typically in here. You just need to visit with a topic to discuss.”
“Agreed. I just… don’t know that many topics, I suppose. I guess I am worried about talking history and Earth. I suppose I should try to come up with a topic for next time.” He frowned. “Matthew was always so good at small talk. I seem to still view conversation as a tool for battle, instead of social interaction.” He sighed, and shook his head, before looking back at his friend. “So, I guess I’ll bring the tea and sugar cane, and we talk later?”
“Sounds like a plan.”
Pensword nodded. “Then I guess I will see you later. Wish me luck with the girls. I think I might need it.” With that, he saluted, and did an about face, before leaving the room. He felt a little better now, knowing that Hammer Strike was open to conversation again, but he still had absolutely no clue what to talk about. Maybe the girls could give him some ideas as they prepared for the wedding.
Vital Spark smiled as he reviewed his handiwork, or hoofwork as the case turned out to be in this world. A towering statue of Discord in mid-self-glorification stood before him with a small tea table laid out in front of him. A smiling Fluttershy looked up at him with rapt and patient attention as she poured her cup from the kettle.
“I think I’ll call you Tea with Chaos Cakes, or maybe Madman’s Tea? Two Lumps of Chaos? Yes, I like that one.” He shot out two concentrated bursts of magic to create two falling ice cubes that rested on top of the tea cup in Discord’s free hand as the “liquid” sloshed over the side. Vital Spark grinned. “Who’d have thought honing my casting could be so much fun!” And then, just like that, everything disappeared in a flash of light, and a sudden sense of dizziness, along with the scent of slightly singed fur notified him that he had just been forcefully teleported.
“Hello, Vital Spark. It’s been a while.” Celestia’s familiar motherly voice drifted across the room, and tickled at the white Unicorn’s ears. Not a difficult feat, considering the fact they were still ringing, and trying to readjust.
“Vital Spark shook his head to try and regain some semblance of his normal composure. Surprisingly, it actually worked. He made a mental note to investigate cartoon physics and actions to see if there was a magical correlation to them in this universe. “Um, Celestia, why did you just take me from New Unity in the middle of my study session?”
“To check up on your progress, of course,” Celestia said as she rose from her throne. The grand hall was surprisingly devoid of any form of life. “And to invite the two of you to tea.”
“Two?”
“I’m sure she should be along any minute now,” Celestia said with an impish smirk.
“You have a lot of gall stealing my student, Celestia,” Clover’s voice thundered through the hall as she appeared in a bright flash of light. “I don’t care what Ponies around here call you now. I was one of the ones who helped put that tiara on your head, and those pounds on your flank, and you will show me respect.”
“I am sorry for the inconvenience, Clover, but this seemed the only way to actually get your attention. With everything that’s happened, we haven’t had the time to properly catch up. And besides that, I needed to borrow Vital Spark to discuss some matters of state involving the human world. That, and I’ll admit I wanted to actually spend some time to get to know Vital better,” she said as she summoned up a tea tray, and several jars, pots, and urns. “I thought these might help alleviate some of your sores over my little prank. A certain someone told me you were in need of some rather rare ingredients for your experiments.”
Clover begrudgingly accepted the offerings. “Be that as it may, Celestia, rest assured, this will not happen again. Star Swirl designed many wards you never saw, even ones capable of stopping an Alicorn with a hyped up ego from taking what she wants.”
Celestia sighed. “Ever the grumpy guss. Come on, Clover. Luna and I have been dying to catch up with you for ages. She would have spent some time with you in the dream realm, were it not for the wards you placed over your mind on the astral plane. She can’t even knock. You and Star Swirl were the Uncle and Aunt we never had, you know. Why not give us the chance to treat you like one from one adult to another?”
“You spilled a cup of blood, and lost your taste for battle, Celestia. Tell me, how do you think Luna would wade in the ocean I have spilled in my time? How would she survive the horrors that inhabit it?”
“You do realize this is Luna we’re talking about,” Celestia pointed out. “She enjoys battle, and relishes the chance to vanquish nightmares and horrors.”
“Yes. And the one time she visited The Doctor’s dreams, she cried for a week straight, and devoured enough ice cream that milk saw a stock rise for the next decade.”
“And you’re claiming yours are worse than his?” Celestia countered.
“No, but I could claim they aren't that much better. The things I did under Star Swirl alone would drive most to insanity. The people we killed, the creatures we contracted, the deals we made.”
“Clover, you’re being too hard on yourself,” Vital said with concern as he furrowed his brow.
“We shall see,” Clover said.
“Um . . . how can we see?” Vital asked, somewhat confused. “Isn’t the past the past?”
Clover sighed. “Bring me a mirror. I suppose it’s time we worked on this kind of thing anyway.”
“Aren’t you going to at least enjoy a cup of tea first?” Celestia asked as she conjured a mirror from the ether.
“One can learn while drinking tea just as easily as not,” Clover said. “Tell me, Vital, where are your memories?”
“Well, that depends. Are you referring to long term or short term memory? Both are located in the frontal lobes of the brain.”
“And where are those lobes located?” Clover asked him.
“I’m pretty sure I just said they were in the front,” Vital said with a deadpan expression.
“And what is the window into the soul?”
“The eyes?”
“So, if memories are contained at the front of the brain, and the eyes are the window into the soul, how would you project a memory?” she asked.
“And I assume that’s why you wanted a mirror.”
Clover nodded. “What will it be? A great battle, maybe? Consorting with a fallen god? Bargaining with a demi-lich?” she wondered, running her hoof down the mirror's surface.
“Is that how you were poisoned?” Vital asked.
“Not on this planet.” She shook her head.
“Slitheen?” he guessed.
“I’ll tell you another time. I think I know a fitting memory. Not as horrific as some, but possibly dark enough to prove my point.” Her horn ignited, and her eyes began to glow as a speck of light appeared on the mirror's surface. It held for a minute, before it began to grow, pressing outwards, until it claimed the entirety of the reflected surface. It was black for a moment, before it brightened enough for Vital to make out the room. It seemed to be some type of dungeon. From the mirror’s point of view, he could see familiar colored bangs hanging just on the edges of vision, with the tip of a horn jutting out, indicating they were seeing this memory as Clover had, which made sense.
“Are we really going to meet him?” Clover asked in a voice that sounded barely older than a filly, a voice filled with excitement and fear.
“If he decides to come. You must remember, young Clover, that a creature such as this is not a wisp or a sprite to comes at your beck and call. If he decides to grant you an audience, you must be sure to be respectful,” an old gray Unicorn spoke up. It took a moment to realize it was Star Swirl with a notably shorter beard, and streaks of black in his greying mane. He wore neither his cape nor his hat, and seemed to be finishing drawing a diagram on the floor. “Now prepare yourself.”
Without more than a few seconds for Clover to prepare herself, Star Swirl’s horn blazed brightly, and the diagram lit up. The stone in the center began to turn red, and then it almost seemed to melt and swirl. An unearthly moan rose through the chamber as the newly created magma whirlpool began to expand. Hooves began pushing outwards: skeletal hooves from a multitude of shrieks of pain and moans of anguish, all of them burning. Soon the magma pool was massive, and Clover shrank back from the heat. The familiar glow of her magic pressed out from her horn to create a heat shield. The magma swirled faster and faster, and with it the flailing hooves, moans, and shrieks increased dramatically. After what seemed like a horrific eternity, the hooves retracted as a large clawed hand shot out of the mass, and grabbed the lip of the pool. Its twin arrived a moment later to repeat the action.
With a roar of exertion, a figure climbed from the pool. It stood upright like a minotaur, but instead of bull legs, it stood on overly large and muscular goat legs with long black cloven hooves. Its entire bottom half was covered in angry red fur. It’s top half, however, was bare, and covered in irritated, almost scaly red burnt skin. It’s large muscular arms hung almost to the ground, and it’s paws were tipped with large curved, vicious-looking claws. Its face was somewhat like a Pony’s, yet undeniably like an ape’s, and yet the wide snout with the ringed nose reminded her of a bull’s face as well. Six horns jutted out the back of its head. The ugly things seemed to curve every which way. It’s snout possessed four jutting downward fangs, and a matching four pushing upwards. It growled lightly, showing off viciously pointed teeth. However, of all the terrifying traits this creature had, the most startling feature was its eyes. They glowed like fire in the low light, but didn’t offer the feeling of warmth or light. It seemed the more one looked into its eyes, the more one could hear Ponies screaming in agony as they burned.
“You have called me, Star Swirl. You have called, and I have answered.” Its voice was gravelly, and made Clover shudder with the feeling of flesh burnt in the sun, despite the protection of her shield.
“Thank you for your benevolence, Lord Ifrit, he who scolds, he who burns, he who ends,” Star Swirl said. Even his aged voice was somewhat shaky. Clover gulped, and did her best not to collapse as she attempted a shaky bow. She failed.
At that moment the image in the mirror vanished as Clover repressed the memory. “I’m sorry, but what was spoken in that chamber is not mine to relinquish,” she told the tea table. “But trust me when I say Lord Ifrit was, by far, one of the milder creatures I’ve met.”
“You know, I never imagined him acting like that. I suppose it depends on the reflection of the world he’s called to, and his individual relationship with various summoners,” Vital mused.
“Summons of that type are all of that kind,” Clover said “The hooves I saw that day were those who broke the terms of their contract, and were punished. Lady Shiva of Ice has a garden of frozen Ponies, and Lord Ramuh submits them to endless shocks.”
“Their bodies, or their souls?”
“Yes.”
“Have you been able to get on good terms with them? I’m sure there must be some summoners who’ve been able to befriend them before,” Vital mused.
“There may have been once, a long time ago,” Celestia said, “but if there are, they are long since lost to memory.”
“I wonder if that might not be why they act the way they do. Having your trust broken like that so many times must really hurt,” Vital said.
“They are the rulers of their elements,” Clover said. “When you’re ready, I think Lady Shiva will find you particularly interesting.”
“Because I had ice for my main aspect without having to compound in the first place?”
Clover nodded.
Vital shuddered as he took a long swig of warm tea. “Why do I get the feeling I might get freezer burn?”
“You don’t dance with the flames, and expect not to get burnt.” Clover shrugged.
“I pray you never have to experience it for yourself, Vital Spark,” Celestia said ruefully. “It is never pleasant, and often fatal.”
“What a joyous way to start off a tea party discussion. I’m sure it’ll get loads better from here,” Vital said as he rolled his eyes.
Both Ponies stared at him for a moment, and then Clover’s mouth began to curve into a smile. “Maybe it will at that,” she said as she took a drink from her cup.
Pensword entered his suite and looked around with invitation in wing as he sought out his wives and daughter. It was possible they had yet to return from their outing, since little Moon River still had to check on her troops. The thought of that brought a smile to his muzzle. Not even a year old yet, and already a leader.
“Something wrong, Pensword?” Lunar Fang asked as she approached him. “You look tense.”
He gulped. “I need to wait for Fox Feather and the children to arrive.” His his left ear turned as he heard said children and wife entering the room from behind. “Right.” He gulped as he sat down, and motioned his family to sit as well. Then he cleared his throat. “I have an announcement to make. I just received a letter from a very powerful political figure, and I want to get your opinions on it before I take any definitive action.” He cleared his throat, and began to read.
“To the Great Knight Commander High Duke of Fille De Ys, Moonkissed Pensword, along with his wives, Lieutenant Colonel High Dutchess Luna’s favored Lunar Fang, and Captain of the Proud Gryphon Slayers, she who slayed fifty Gryphons and second wife of Pensword, Fox Feather, with the current heir and betrothed Moon River to Prince Bellacosa of the Crystal Empire, along with your recently adopted sons: Baron Cristo, Great swordsmith Inigo, and the White Death Day Moon.
You are hereby requested to be in attendance for the wedding ceremonies of His Holiness Emperor Daedalus and Lady Melody Prophetess, for the thirty fifth of november of this year. Due to the travel required, your lodgings and food shall be taken care of by the emperor's own estate. The emperor has requested that you bring no gift, He also wishes that you dare not bring any flags, as they are rightful conquest, and yours by right of blood.
Yours in honor and glory,
~Ian Farflyer, acting steward of the Western Fortress.
Post Script: When we say to bring your family, we also mean those who have mixed their blood with yours and become your warriors of the old ways.”
Pensword looked to his family, and the children. “Yeah, half of this scares me, if for no other reason than it was written and transcribed by what we Thestrals call the gift of the sight beyond the years. So, yeah. We’ve been invited to a wedding, and Grif and Hammer Strike both seem to agree we should go. I will be informing the Gryphons soon, but I would like to know your thoughts on the matter first.”
“Didn’t you fight to save this Daedalus? Why would such an invite make you so tense?” Lunar Fang asked as she settled onto some spare cushions.
“Because, while it shows that it is unprecedented for the empire to even invite a mortal Pony, the last time a royal invite like this happened, they tried to kill Celestia. Also, the emperor and his wife were killed that same day after the vows. I am uncertain that I can guarantee absolute safety. Secondly, my role as the Demon, to them, is changing. Could it be that they see me now as a trained attack dog for Daedalus, could it be a way to try and tame the Demon’s soul?” He sighed, and shook his head tiredly. “Or it could be I am just worrying about nothing.”
Fox Feather grinned. “Or maybe you still can’t forget that the last orders from the empire concerning you was to be a head guest at the table,” she said as she struggled not to snark at her own joke. When she regained her composure, she leveled with him. “Pensword, you need to get over it. Daedalus is a progressive. He wants to institute change in the empire for the better, not murder you and our children. If you want my opinion, I say we should go. Besides,” she smirked, “I personally want to see how many Gryphons I can drink under the table.”
Pensword facehoofed at his mate. “If it wasn’t for how much it took to make you even drunk, I would worry for you, my dear wife.” He looked to the children. “Inigo, Day Moon, Cristo, what do you say?”
The three looked at each other before looking at their Thestral Father. “I think–,” Inigo began.
“I want to know why they put those fancy words in front of our names,” Cristo shot out.
Day Moon looked confusedly at his adopted parent. “Why do you call yourself a demon? You’re not mean, you don’t spread hate, and you’re damned or evil, so why do you call yourself that?”
Pensword looked at Day Moon with a sad smile. “I will tell you during our walk later today, all right?” Day Moon nodded his agreement, and Pensword took a deep breath. “Right. Enough talk of fears and future weddings. Shall we have some food before the day gets any later?” A rousing chorus of cheers and nods met that suggestion; however, much to Pensword’s concern, little Moon River was not among them. She remained still and pensive. He didn’t know why, but, for some reason, that sent a shiver through his body from tip to tail.
“So, Rainbow, let me get this straight.” Grif leaned back in his office chair. “Despite the fact that we barely get along, you came here to ask me for a favor?”
Rainbow Dash chuckled awkwardly. “Yeah.”
“Because the next Daring Do book got delayed.”
“Uhuh.”
“So you can use my airship to get the six of you to A.K. Yearling’s hideaway.”
“Well. . ..”
“So you can demand her to publish the book when it's convenient for you?”
“When you put it that way–.”
Grif let out a long sigh. “Couldn’t you guys just take a train, or the hot air balloon, or an Equestrian airship?”
Rainbow chuckled awkwardly again. “Well, you see, Daring’s hideaway’s kinda off the beaten path. And there’s a forest, and mountains, and all kinds of stuff between here and there. If we took the train, we’d still need to hike the rest of the way for a few days, and while I’m not scared, you know Fluttershy might feel better if we had some . . . skilled help?”
“As a professional courtesy, I should be saying no outright, but, somehow, I think if I do say no, you girls will just find another way to do so.” He rubbed the bridge of his beak. “Give me an hour to talk to Pensword and Hammer Strike, okay?”
“A whole hour?” Rainbow groaned.
“Take it or leave it,” Grif said, not even waiting for a response as he got to his feet, and headed for the door. As he left the office, he gave a low chuckle as he heard the distinct sound of disgruntled grumbling from within.
Grif had only made his way down the western hallway when he found Hammer Strike out and about, while a servant rattled on with all kinds of paperwork. “Huh. They finally managed to pin you down for that stuff, huh?” Grif asked.
Hammer Strike glanced over for a moment. “Indeed.”
“So I’m willing to bet what I have to talk to you about is more ridiculous than any of the requests you’ve got in that paperwork pile.”
“Does it involve anyone from Canterlot?”
“No. Worse. Ponyville.”
“I thought today was Thursday.”
“Well, Rainbow is in my office right now. Apparently. . ..” Grif proceeded to tell the story as it had been told to him. “And so, now she wants us to use the Gantrithor to intrude upon this author's privacy, so she can complain about a book getting delayed.”
It took a moment, before Hammer Strike replied. “Worst part is, she would do this, even if declined.”
“A fact I verbally mentioned was the only reason I didn’t say no outright.” Grif nodded in agreement. He looked to the servant with the paperwork, and casualty motioned for the two of them to have privacy. “If you’ve been reading the reports I’ve been forwarding to you, then you probably can guess why ‘A.K. Yearling’ is late with her book. How do we handle this?”
He sighed. “It’d be best to go along with this. She would only put her friends and herself in danger by going by themselves.”
“Lets keep it just the three of us, then. Possibly Conor, if he decides to go, but I don’t think taking a full company would send the best image.”
“Would it be best to bring the three of us all together? Something could happen here while we’re gone. As statistically unlikely as it is, it’s still a possibility.”
“That's why we’re leaving Lunar Fang and Clover,” Grif noted. “Between the two of them, they could keep things running until we get back. Also, considering the amount of things that could happen, I’d rather have you there.”
Hammer Strike sighed once again. “Running the Gantrithor with a four-member team is certainly going to be interesting.”
“We’ve done it before. Heck, you’ve done it with less. We’re not even leaving Equestria.”
Hammer Strike sighed. “All right. I’ll be sure to pack my tools, just in case. When did you want to leave?”
“It’s Rainbow Dash.” Grif rolled his eyes. “It’ll take a bare minimum of three hours to get the Gantrithor ready, and she’ll probably have an aneurysm before the end of it as is. You get packed up. I’ll get Pensword, talk to Conor, and then start the pre-flight.”
“Got it.”
“Pensword’s going to freak when he hears this.” Grif chuckled to himself as he left.
“And so, now Rainbow Dash wants us to take them to A.K. Yearling's place in the north on the Gantrithor, so she can complain about a late publishing date.” Grif sighed as he finished the story. He had found Pensword on the parade grounds running drills with some of the newer troops.
Pensword looked at Grif with a raised eyebrow. “And she is going to go no matter what we say.” Pensword sighed, and deflated a little. “Let us talk in my office. Moon Biter, take over the Drills.” Pensword hoofed over the newer troops, and the pair took flight. When they had arrived safely with the door secured, Pensword took a seat at his desk, and sighed. “I have to say I don’t like that her being a duchess sworn to Twilight’s house means she can go off when she likes, but she is military career minded. That means she will have these hurry up and wait times.” Still he knew the Wonderbolt hopeful. “I’ll get my overnight duffel, give command of the post to Lunar Fang, and … I’ll see what I can do. Mind you, I am bringing some of my lighting tools, just in case our little outing turns into a real adventure.” He shook his head. “Besides, this’ll give me a chance to give her some one-on-one training, and she sorely needs it.”
“You know me, Matthew. I wanted to be an author before. This seems like a professional discourtesy, but it’s better we take them there and bring them back alive and uninjured than the possible alternative.”
“And we know why she most likely is delayed. That will not be easy when the girls find out,” Pensword replied. “Still, I guess we can use this as an excuse to offer an official invite to A.K. to visit the Library of the Two Sisters. And I’m sure Hammer Strike will have an offer or two for her as well.”
“We’ll attempt to make this quick, and hope we don’t do any more damage than is strictly necessary. I’m frankly surprised that the others agreed to this trip.”
“It is Rainbow Dash we’re talking about here. When she wants something badly enough, she gets it, no matter how long it takes. Besides, I think some of them just want to do something fun without having to save the world for once. At least that is what I would like to do at some point, if I were in their horseshoes.”
“You’d figure Twilight would object, at least.” Grif shrugged. “Still, it could always be worse, I guess. It’s not like you-know-who has ever actually found something potentially world-threatening before.”
“And now I will have to bring my disaster commando kit. You most likely jinxed us.” Pensword snorted with a glum look.
“‘It wouldn’t be any fun, if it were easy,’” Grif quoted. “You know who said that?”
“Batman?” the Pegasus replied with a deadpan expression.
“Your wife, when we charged the front lines at Triumph.” Grif chuckled at the clever turn of phrase.
“Oh. Well it’s a good saying. Still, I’ll get my gear, and be ready to board within the hour. How long are we going to take to launch?”
“I have to find Conor, and see if he’s coming. Then I’ll start the pre-flight. If I rush it, we can go in about three hours. Can you talk to Clover?”
“I can, unless you find the two together, but Clover and Lunar Fang, that is an odd combo for leadership. Also, we are going to blow Conor’s mind. I think he is working his way through the first Daring Do book to help his reading comprehension.”
“Lunar Fang has the tactical mindset, but Clover has the experience. It’s hard to think of it, but she’s been in the heart of more battles than the both of us combined.”
“Very true, and I am happy that we get to tap her mind for training the next generation,” Pensword replied. Now we’d better hurry.” He paused as a note appeared on his desk from the dragonfire lantern. He opened it, and sighed. “I need to go calm Rainbow Dash down. She is literally tearing up the sky right now, and attracting some spiked clouds above us. You find Conor, and I will tell Rainbow Dash we approved her mission, but on our time table.”
“Might as well make sure she has some consequence for it, though. Find out discreetly, if you can, how many bits she has saved up, and add it as a small fee,” Grif said with a mischievous wink, before leaving.
Grif knocked on Clover’s lab door, and waited until he heard the call to enter.
“Excuse me, Clover, can I borrow Vital Spark?” he asked, trying his best to be respectful. He didn’t want to test his thaumic field on the archmage’s bad side.
“Is it important? We just started some rather crucial lessons on projecting one's thoughts through scrying,” Clover huffed.
“Afraid so.” Grif offered an apologetic smile. Clover looked to Vital, and gestured for him to go.
“That easy? You’re not even going to demand any details?” Vital asked, surprised at his teacher’s sudden decision.
“If it were someone less sensical, I would, but Grif wouldn’t be calling, if it wasn’t something involving Hammer Strike,” Clover explained. “And if I had needed to know, Hammer Strike would have let me know.”
“Huh. Wasn’t expecting that, but if you say so.” Vital shrugged. “I guess we’ll pick up after I’m done with Grif and the others, then?”
Clover just nodded as she examined some notes on a blackboard.
“Okay, Grif,” Vital said as they trotted out of the workshop, and the familiar hum of Clover’s wards resumed, “what’s going on?”
Grif started the story for the third time that day. “And so, now it’s either we escort them, so Rainbow can complain about a late book, or they go out themselves, and probably get themselves killed. You coming?”
“You guys are actually letting me come out into the field for once?”
“It’s a lot less potential danger than a normal trip, so it’ll be a good way to let you see what it’s actually like.” Grif shrugged. “Besides, you’re competent enough that you should be able to hold your own against a beast.”
“As long as I don’t knock myself out while I’m doing it, right?” Vital asked with a smirk and a chuckle.
“Finish your lesson, and pack up anything that might be useful. We leave in three hours.”
Vital shook his head. “Clover said we were done when you came for me. I’ll just go to prepare. I’m going to need the time to decide what to take, anyways.”
“Pack light. Take anything that might come in handy, but nothing ridiculous. We don’t need you with three camels worth of water, okay?”
“Hey, you know that wasn’t my fault as a human.” Vital winced, then sighed. “I’ll see about prepping the proper supplies. I’m guessing Twilight will probably over-prepare for all of us, anyways, but it’s best to have your own supplies ready. I’ll see you at the ship.”
“As much as it pains me to say it, a book for every possible situation isn’t going to save our lives in most crises.” Grif chuckled.
“Do I need to pack my own rations, or will those be prepped by the staff at the kitchens?”
“Most of the food’s already supplied, but I’d ask for a pack of jerky. You never know. Pensword and I always try to carry a day's worth of food on us, just in case.”
“Sounds about right.” He grinned, baring his small canines. “And it’s days like today where I’m glad Clover made me an omnivore again.”
“It has it’s advantages.” Grif smiled. “If you need anything extra, ask Pensword. He can probably advise you. I need to start the pre-flight checks.”
“Thanks, Grif. I’ll see you in a few hours.” Vital saluted, then raced off down the halls for his room. He had a lot of work to do.
Grif nodded as he watched Vital go. “Never change, Conor,” he said to himself with a warm smile. Then he made his way to the nearest window, and flew towards the air dock to make the proper preparations.
Pensword stood on the dock as he looked at Applejack. “You’re coming along? I thought you would have been staying here on your farm, or spending time with Little Willow,” he asked. Then he turned to the rainbow-maned mare. “Rainbow Dash, did you actually convince all your friends to come with?”
“Well, not everypony could or should drop their life to go on this adventure. Besides, are you sure you want to go through with this? You are asking us to literally bring the most advanced warship in the nation on a ferry trip.”
“We said please?” Rainbow offered.
“Yes, but you need to do a trade. Either I can have the weather service dock your pay for the next six months to pay for a fraction of this operation, or,” Pensword held up a wing to prevent any outspoken comments, “you can follow my lead, and get a taste for accepting military commands. Depending on your performance, you may even get to progress further in the Wonderbolts.”
Rainbow considered the problem for a few minutes, before nodding. “Fine,” she grumbled as she rolled her eyes. “What’s first, Sir?”
“First, you will be bunking near my quarters. You will then be getting up at oh six thirty, which I am sure you are used to with the weather patrols you do. You will do morning PT with myself, Grif, and Vital. Then you will have chow, after which I will put you through the flying tests from my day. Also, your bed will be subjected to the bit test, You do know what that is, don’t you?”
“Sure I do. Every Pegasus has heard of it,” Rainbow scoffed. “You make the bed, and bounce a bit off it to make sure it’s made properly. Easy peasy.”
“Well, at least they teach that still,” Pensword muttered. “Then you are to be held to that, but it is my standard. Get going, then. Also, you are to be wearing your Wonderbolt Recruit uniform from thirty minutes from now, until we reach our destination. And don’t give me lip about that being out of line. I am the commander, and my word is law on this ship. Am I understood?”
“Your word is what?” Grif’s voice spoke up from behind the Pegasus. Pensword could almost hear the smile on his face. “Your word is law on the battlefield, but remember, Commander, that when we’re on the Gantrithor, I might as well be the admiral.”
“But the Admiral cannot order soldiers around on his ship, unless it is life and death. Rainbow Dash is under my command!” Pensword responded as he rounded on Grif. His expression was dour, but Grif could hear the humor in the tone. “Besides, I want the hopeful to stay alive, not die,” he jabbed.
Grif took one look at Rainbow, and his face turned stern in a nanosecond as he pretended to inspect her. “Come on. Stand at attention. Neck straight! Eyes forward! Where’s that salute?” Much to her surprise, Rainbow Dash found herself acting automatically to correct everything Grif had criticized. “You’ll have your hooves full with this one.” He chuckled, looking in Pensword’s direction with a conspiratorial grin. “But we’ve seen worse, haven’t we?”
“Yes we have. She’ll do,” Pensword replied with a similar grin. “She’ll do nicely for the future.”
“Circlet’s running a few internal checks right now. After that, it’ll be one last double check on the engine and weapon systems. Can you escort Miriam here to pick up her necessities and the rest of our civilian cargo?” Grif snickered as Rainbow’s face went beet-red.
“I shall do that. Just make sure we have things taken care of, and tell Hammer Strike he’ll have three days without paperwork, and that he’ll be working with Circlet on ship improvements.” He paused and turned around to look at Grif. “Also, where are we putting Vital during the stay?”
“I’ve put him in a cabin between you and the recruit here. Her friends are all within direct access of your usual room via the hallway. Twilight has the XO suite, Hammer Strike has the captain's quarters, and yours truly has the emperor’s rooms.”
“Understood. I guess I get the Marine leader’s cabin, which does make sense.” He turned to look at Rainbow Dash. “Well, come on. Move it. You are fast in the air. Let’s work on your ground speed. Move it, cadet!!” A moment later, Grif heard a yell. “Pick up those hooves! No flapping! I said ground speed, not airspeed!”
Rainbow yiped, and took off at a full gallop.
“So, Caring, it looks like the engines are good, and the thunder cannon is managing nicely with the modifications Hammer Strike made. Thrusters are operating efficiently, weapons are stocked, food is stored, and the new inertia dampening enchantment seems to be in order. Have you detected anything serious on your end?”
“We have a mild power fluctuation in the lower hold, but I’ve marked the problem area, and will be able to direct Hammer Strike towards it during the voyage. Everything else seems to be operating at acceptable levels.”
“Very well. Lower gangway, and prepare to take on passengers.” Grif laughed as he heard the sound of gears and servos working while the new thaumic circuits thrummed with power. He made his way casually to the embarking/disembarking area wearing an old-fashioned captain’s cap. “All aboard the good ship Gantrithor!” he called with a wide grin.
“After you, ladies,” Vital insisted as he bowed, and waved towards the gangplank with Watcher.
Rainbow Dash marched aboard first with a nervous grin on her face as she trotted up the plank to the right of the deck, before doing an about face to salute Grif. Applejack chuckled softly as she followed, and Grif gave her a wink.
Spike waved, and smiled as he pulled out a coffee, and a box of donuts while he walked up the gangplank on his stubby legs. “These are for you,” he said. “Figured you could use some after going so long without it.”
Twilight walked up behind the young dragon, and smiled down at him. “Great thinking, Spike.”
Spike blushed. “Aww shucks. It was nothing.”
Fluttershy gave her usual quiet greeting, and a shy smile as she filed in next to her friends, followed by the flamboyant Rarity and her massive piles of luggage, including a suspiciously large suitcase that reminded Grif of a certain Druish princess in an Earth movie from long ago.
“Heya, Grif! Hiya, Circlet!” Pinkie said as she popped up on Grif’s back, and waved at an observation crystal that was pulsing above one of the doors to the cabins.
“Hello, Pinkie,” Grif greeted calmly. “So, girls, and Spike, a few new rules, and a reminder about the old ones. That includes you, Pinkie,” he said pointedly. “Now, as Pinkie observed, you’ll notice the observation crystals. These are spaced out periodically through the ship. If you happen to get lost, and you see one, simply ask for where you want to go, and the crystals will flash an illuminating path for you. However,” he turned to face Pinkie, “we haven’t been able to install them everywhere yet. So, please, for your own safety, no exploring, okay?”
“Rainbow’s the one we always had to worry about that for.” Applejack chuckled. “And I think she’s gonna be a mite too busy for that this time around,” she said as she fixed her friend with a teasing smirk.
“Maybe, but a good rule is worth re-stating,” Grif noted. “Now you’ve each been assigned your own room. Normally, I’d be secure in noting our new security locks would keep people from exploring, but seeing as we have Pinkie here, I’ll say it simply. If a room is locked, do not enter it. The locks will scan you when you take possession of the room, and will unlock when you approach. If you don’t have access, then you likely shouldn’t have access to that room. This includes the larders and the imperial suite. Be advised that myself, Hammer Strike, Pensword, and Circlet all have the ability to lock all rooms with or without you inside them in the event of emergency. If your room won’t open, there’s a communication crystal by your door that you can use to contact us, and check why. Let me reiterate. If the door’s locked, it’s for your own good. Understood?”
The party all nodded their understanding.
“Now, while this might be a civilian trip, this is still a war vessel, and some standards will be kept. Chow time is strictly at 07:30, 12:00, and 18:00 hours respectively. If you do not show up, we will attempt to find something for you, but we’re not to be blamed, if it’s not hot. In the morning, some of us will be doing exercises on the deck. That includes you, Rarity,” Grif said as he fixed her with a steady gaze. “It is ill advisable to be up here during weapon training, unless you are part of said training.”
Pensword looked around, and then nodded to Caring Circlet’s observation crystal. A klaxon horn sounded moments later. “That is a General Quarters alarm, and it means we are heading into battle. If you hear that, you follow the green lights Circlet will broadcast from her crystals for you. They will lead you to safe rooms. Also, if, at any time, you hear a whistle, that is a ship-wide intercom broadcast. In the event of such a broadcast, you will stop, and listen to whatever is announced. Also, Twilight, for the sake of security measures, I am putting your friends as your personal guard, meaning!” he yelled over the sounds of objection, “that they will be able to accompany you during briefings, if any are needed, and stay in the same room as you if any official letters head your way.” He turned to face Rainbow Dash. “As for you, more rules will be waiting for you on your bunk within the hour.”
“One last thing,” Grif said as he nodded to Pensword. “The Gantrithor is a lady, a she. You will not refer to her as an it or a thing, and no matter what your status, if anyone calls her a he, or fails to give her the respect they’d give anyone else, that offender will clean this entire deck with a cotton ball. Is that understood?”
Several gulps affirmed their understanding in ways speech never could.
“Very well, everyone. Pensword will show you to your rooms. Twilight and Spike, you two are with me. We leave just as soon as Hammer Strike arrives.”
Pensword nodded. “Follow me, girls. Also, you have to carry your own gear with you. Neither I nor Rainbow Dash will be doing it for you. This isn’t a pleasure cruise, and we need ourselves ready for anything.”
Grif chuckled as he grabbed Twilight’s bag. “Come on, you two. Officers’ quarters are this way.”
“Grif, I know I’m a princess, bu–.”
Grif cut Twilight's objection off with a talon. “Trust me, Twilight, this is going to be one of those times you want to take advantage of your title.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Well there mostly just each on their own. Applejack probably doesn’t need a lot of space, Fluttershy won’t complain, Pinkie will probably make her room bigger on the inside, and Rarity, well, if she’s really that desperate, Hammer Strike’s in the captain’s quarters.” He gave Twilight a scandalous smile. “Rainbow will need to get used to small rooms, and Vital has traveled with us before, but you have Spike,” he said, pointing to the dragon. “The officers’ quarters were made for the possibility of them having family with them, so you two should have enough room.”
“. . . You just really want to troll them, don’t you?” Twilight said with a deadpanned expression.
“That's called a bonus, Twilight.” Grif laughed.
Twilight groaned.
“Donut?” Spike offered consolingly. Grif grabbed one with a chuckle, and ruffled Spike’s spines.
“Circlet, what’s the ETA on Hammer Strike?” Grif asked.
“I’m here,” Hammer Strike replied through the communication crystal.
“Okay. I’ll get these two settled in, and meet you on the bridge,” Grif responded.
Hammer Strike sighed as he pushed open the doors to the bridge. Unbuckling the pack, he removed it from his person and dropped it into a secure container nearby. “So, Circlet, how are the thaumic relays holding up?”
“Everything is working within acceptable parameters, Hammer Strike,” Circlet reported. “There is understandable conflict between the Gryphon runes and the relays, but otherwise it’s working fine”
“Of course. But I can’t replace the system in a week. Setting up thaumic relays alone are a pain,” Hammer Strike shrugged. “But at least they are functioning.”
“We still have 85% power we can safely redistribute. That's an estimation, seeing as the core’s never been fully pushed”
“One day … one day,” Hammer Strike commented. “I wonder if Grif got to see the designs I sent him for the thaumic canons. Sure, it’s basically a small elemental canon, but with the power we have here, it’ll be more than basic. Most elemental foci can’t handle it anyways.”
“It would be over 200% more efficient than the deck ballista,” Circlet noted.
“I’ll have to chat with him about it, then. Until then, I’ll just continue work on the thunder canon and the power relays.”
“I’ve begun working on that map of the ship you requested.”
“How’s progress?”
“I have finished the crew quarters and the cargo holds. I’m currently working on the safe areas and the emergency armories.”
“Any issues that need to be dealt with before we depart?”
“Grif had me triple check. We’re ready to go when you are.”
“Just awaiting the arrival of Grif, then. As soon as he’s in place, we’re taking off.”
“Somebody say my name?” Grif asked as he entered the bridge. “You're sure Clover’s anti-inertia formula is compatible with the thaumic power?”
“Oh, I’m positive. I just needed to ensure the energy synchronized correctly,” Hammer Strike confirmed.
“Then let's get this show on the road, Circlet.” Grif nodded to the golem. “I take it you don’t actually need us to pilot for you?”
If the golem could roll her eyes, she probably would have as the engines groaned, and the ship began to move.
"Twilight, now, seriously, you can't tell me that some part of whatever you have for a conscience doesn’t bother you about this trip,” Grif noted that evening as they all ate dinner in the mess hall. “You can’t rush art, no matter what its format.”
“And you think I didn’t already try telling that to a certain Pony earlier?” Twilight asked as she ate her salad. “You know how Rainbow can be sometimes. And besides, we were worried for her health.”
“She already crashed three bird’s nests, drenched twenty flower beds, set off multiple thunderheads, broke apart the wrong cloud formations, and nearly scared my poor little Angel Bunny half to death,” Fluttershy said. “When she said she couldn’t last the extra two months, I can vouch for it.”
“And because of your inability to reel her in, you could potentially stop the book series entirely,” Grif noted as he bit into a loaf. “I would figure an avid literature connoisseur like yourself would realise many great authors have stopped their work entirely because of the pressure to put out their books on a deadline.”
Pensword nodded his head. “Besides, maybe she’s taking care of a sick relative?” he suggested. “Sometimes authors delay books due to events outside their control. And if we are going as far as we are, then I’d wager she likes her family life private.”
“Um, guys, quick question. Why is there a red cloud streaking out from the engines?” Vital asked as he pointed out one of the windows.
“Pinkie spread cupcake icing on the thaumic relay near the engine,” Grif noted, not even bothering to look away from his food.
“So she’s really doing it, isn’t she, the whole Indiana Jones thing?”
“How could I not?” Pinkie cried.
“Hey, compared to the last three hours of the same song going across the PA system, the red streak isn’t so bad,” Grif noted as a certain theme song still played over said system. “How did you get Circlet to do that anyway, Pensword?”
“I didn’t. She said Pinkie Pie did something, and now she can play records, if we want to pipe anything over the speakers. Frankly, I’m loving it,” he replied. “Oh, the memories,” he gushed. “Oh, and I definitely need to get myself a fedora.”
“Yeah. Well, if my ship crashes and burns, because nazis or communists or whatever start attacking, there’s going to be hell to pay,” Grif noted.
“Oh, I would love to fight them,” Pensword practically purred. “That would be a good battle, and more than a little cathartic.”
“Yes, and every time that happens, the plane or the blimp or the train ends up in flames,” Grif noted.
“I think it’s safe to say we can relax, Grif. It’s pretty universally known that during the travel sequence with the red lines following the trail, nobody gets attacked. It’s just an easy transition scene. Speaking of, Twilight, you wouldn’t happen to have some copies of Daring’s novels I could brush up on, would you?” Vital asked.
“You’d have to ask Pensword. He’s the one who borrowed them last. Speaking of which, Pensword, those books are already three weeks overdue!”
“I renewed them,” he swore. “I gave the ones I finished to Spike. I’m still working on book four, but if they were indeed overdue, I guess I can square up here. What is my fine? It had better not be twenty bits. Oh, and you can pick up the extras in Twilight’s room, Vital.”
“Thanks for the heads up, Pensword. If the mysterious red trail is anything to go by, and the coincidences Equestria tends to follow when it comes to tropes, I think I can guess where this is going,” Vital said.
“Surprised you didn’t just ask to borrow mine, Pensword,” Grif noted.
“What? And miss the opportunity to visit Ponyville Library to put a friendly face for the military? Besides, I like talking to Spike, and hearing what new comics he’s found. This new series called The Power Ponies sounds quite interesting.”
Twilight groaned, and rolled her eyes. “What is it about boys and comic books?”
“You know, if you’d take the time to read them yourself, you might find them just as captivating as your novels are,” Vital noted. “Apparently, several adaptations of comics are advanced enough on Earth to have gained the classification of graphic novel.”
“I don’t really read comics, but it is nice to get to know the passions of others,” Pensword added. “Besides, Power Ponies are not my cup of tea.”
“I’ve got one thing to say to you, Pensword.” Vital Spark sneered. “Captain America’s a Hydra agent.”
Pensword stared Vital down. “That would never happen,” he stressed as he fixed Vital Spark with a glare. Then he snorted, and shook his head. “Are you doing that on purpose?”
“Yes.” Vital smiled. “And you just proved my point that Power Ponies would interest you. They’re basically the Avengers, from what I understand. That, or the Justice League. Take your pick.”
Spike piped up. “Well he did read five of my issues, but it didn’t hook him.” He sighed. “Some people just don’t appreciate good art. He did promise to take me to see any Power Ponies movie that come out, though.”
Pensword shrugged. “What? I like movie-verses. Besides, you know I never read a Captain America comic. Comics were always a little too expensive for me to afford.”
“Which is why next time we’re in Canterlot,” Spike interjected, “I’m taking him to a comic shop to see if any of the comics catch his attention.”
“Well, you all can keep chatting. I have a Recruit to continue training. I shall see you all later.” With that, Pensword got up, and left the mess hall.
Vital sighed. “I guess I’d better get to work on brushing up with my battle spells and weapon form. Something’s telling me I’m going to need it.”
“Yup!” Pinkie said cheerfully.
Pensword looked at Hammer Strike with a deadpan expression. The lighting around them was tinted red while the start of The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly played on the ship’s speakers. Pensword narrowed his eyes, and opened his muzzle. “You have any sixes?” he asked.
“Go fish.”
Pensword frowned as he drew a card, and looked to his left. “Your turn,” he said to Hammer Strike. “Also, Circlet, can you turn that music off, please, or at least change songs?”
Hammer Strike glanced over at Vital. “Got any sevens?”
Vital Sighed. “Here.” He passed three over. “Hey, Circlet, mind playing All I do is Win? I think it’s pretty appropriate, given the circumstances here. What is this, the fifth game he’s been winning?”
“Or maybe some uptown funk?” Grif chuckled.
Pensword paused and snorted as he remembered a song. “I love the parody for that one.”
Hammer Strike then looked to Grif. “Got any fours?”
“It’s scary how you do that.” Grif sighed, handing him a four.
“The statistics that you can guess correctly so consistently each round is startling,” Circlet noted. “I believe the term is . . . you must have lady luck on your side?”
“She doesn’t know the half of it, darling,” a breathy voice whispered in Hammer Strike’s ear, followed by a flirtatious giggle.
Hammer Strike turned suddenly to his side to find nobody there.
Pensword looked at Hammer Strike. “So another one just showed up?”
“You guys and your embodiments of universal forces.” Grif chuckled.
“Says the Gryphon who’s the emissary of four gods that are the embodiment of the winds and the aspects associated with them,” Vital said.
“They don’t show up at random invisible to everyone else, and talk to me,” Grif noted.
“And I only talk to my family and those close to me. Never had anything . . . well, Death did say hi once, but that’s it,” Pensword added adamantly. “Uh, shall we dispose of the correct guess repeat rule, so the rest of us have a chance, Hammer Strike?”
“Sure,” Hammer Strike replied as he looked back to his cards.
“Yes! My turn!” a familiar dual voice cheered as Chance made his appearance hovering above the table.
“. . . Oh boy,” Hammer Strike muttered to himself.
“Excited to finally have a chance to lose?” Vital Spark asked.
“Considering what’s going on, I have doubts on that.”
“What’s the matter? Don’t you trust me?” Chance asked with a mischievous smirk.
Hammer Strike simply sighed.
“Hmm . . .” Vital mused to himself as he stared at his hand.
“Go for the three. Go for the three!” Chance shouted in Vital’s ear.
“Got any twos, Hammer Strike?”
Hammer Strike shrugged. “Go fish.”
“Faust damn it,” Chance swore angrily.
Vital Spark sighed, pulled up the card, then brightened. “Got what I wished!” He grinned as he laid down the set.
Grif eyed his cards as Chance looked over his shoulder. Meanwhile, something in the form of a gold mist floated from Hammer Strike to Grif, warping into the visage of a Gryphoness as it looked over his other shoulder. Both figures grabbed the same card Grif did as he grinned at Vital. “Got any aces?” he asked in an almost knowing tone.
“. . . I hate you guys so much right now,” Vital glowered as he handed over the last pair of cards in his hand.
“Hammer Strike may have everything and it’s grandmother on his side, but I have the devil's own luck.” Grif chuckled. “Got any Celestias?” he asked Pensword.
“Mmm, yes,” Lady Luck purred.
Pensword did not say a word as he offered two Celestia’s to Grif’s hand. “Here you are.” He shook his head. “Well, how long will this deck of cards last till we have another Alicorn to mess up the higher ranking cards?”
“Meh.” Grif shrugged. “Then we’ll get Gryphon cards. Got any tens?”
“Mmm. Sorry, sweetheart. Better luck next time,” Luck spoke as she gave Grif an ethereal peck on the cheek, then floated back to Hammer Strike. As she drifted over, a golden ripple crossed over her form, and she was a mare once again.”
Chance stuck out his tongue at her. “Meanie.”
“Go Fish,” Pensword spoke. His left ear twitched as he heard his mother’s ghostly breathing in his ear.
Grif drew a card, and shrugged. “Your move.”
Pensword looked at his hand.
“Hammer Strike has a Luna,” Moon Beam said.
Pensword’s left eye twitched. “Strike. . .? Got any Lunas?” he asked. He hated to cheat like this, but she wouldn’t step in, unless he had an unfair advantage somehow.
“Yep.” Hammer Strike passed over the card.
He grinned as he put his card into his hand. He looked to Vital. “You got any Twilight’s?” he asked.
“You do realize Grif emptied my hand, right, Pensword?” Vital asked.
“Yes, just had some buzzing in the background,” Pensword answered with a grin. He drew the card from the top of the deck, and he whooped as he put down four Lunas. “YES!” he cheered. “Five games, you always got my three Lunas. Finally, she’s with me! I don’t care if I lost this game, I finally achieved my objective.” He had three cards left in his hand.
Hammer Strike simply blinked a few times. Luck placed her front hooves on his back as she whispered something into his ear.
Hammer Strike closed his eyes, and placed a hoof on the side of his head as a buzzing filled his ears. “Stop. That,” he whispered, before turning back towards Grif. “Got any tens?”
“Go fish,” Grif said, a little shocked.
Hammer Strike simply took a card, and placed it in his hand. After a moment, he nodded to himself, and pulled all his cards together, before placing them down on the table.
“Uh, guys?” Grif said as he looked towards the window, “we saw the girls enter, and then A.K. Yearling enter. Did anyone notice three large thug-esque Ponies, and a badly dressed Earth Pony whose cologne reeks from over here?”
“How is your sense of smell that powerful?” Vital asked. “We’re in a ventilated ship, for crying out loud, with magical filters!”
“Not the issue,” Pensword spoke as he raced to the window. “We need to secure–.” He paused. “And one of them just left with something gold around his neck.” He looked around. “Vital, check on the girls. See that they are okay. Grif, you and I will tail those goons. Shawn–” Pensword broke off awkwardly. “–I am sorry. Hammer Strike, you do what you want to do.”
“And now Daring Do just hobbled out of the hut. Looks like her front right leg’s in a splint. She’s flying off after them. Given the circumstances, I think I should be the one to track them. I’m faster. You keep an eye on Rainbow. Don’t try to stop her, but follow when she inevitably chases after Daring,” Grif said. “Caring, if anything unrecognized so much as stares at this ship for longer than sixty seconds, render it into a gelatinous mass of multi-colored goop.” And with that, he was gone.
Pensword groaned. “Right. Well, Vital, go off and see how the other five are doing. Also, Caring, I assume you will not touch those that stare at the ship with a broken mind, right? Maybe give a warning shot with an order to surrender or something?” He looked to Caring’s crystal. “Intel. I want intel for what is going on here. I will assume that object is some artifact that is not good.” With that, he took to the air to follow through his own part.
“You know, if he wants intel, he should probably ask Twilight,” Vital said pointedly. Then he sighed. “So, you going to come with, Hammer Strike, or are you going to sit this one out?”
“Circlet, could you engage an alpha lockdown?” Hammer Strike asked.
“Consider it engaged,” Circlet’s voice responded over the PA.
“Alright, Vital, let’s go check on the girls, shall we? Afterwards, we can clear the ship.”
“You mean clear for takeoff?”
“No, clear anyone onboard that isn’t meant to be on board.”
“Oh. Sure.” Vital smiled as he levitated Watcher onto his back. “Let’s go.”
“So let me get this straight. Daring Do is A.K. Yearling, and she’s going on a massive adventure against the evil ruler known as Ahuizotl, who is now gathering a series of magical artifacts that will give him the ability to rule as a tyrant for 800 years, because these objects cause unrelenting heat for that period of time. And because of his natural affinity with water, and the position of his stronghold as a water control unit, he would be able to rule the valley with an iron fist,” Vital Spark said.
“Pretty much,” Twilight agreed.
“Why didn’t somebody just try destroying the ring, then? If they all have to be together, then just destroying one of them would mean he could never invoke the power, right?” Vital asked.
“Ancient Ponies weren’t always the brightest,” Twilight offered.
“Twilight, these books were only published in the last few years, which means the events in them probably happened shortly before they were published. The only reason I can think Daring didn’t destroy it outright is because it’s a valuable ancient artifact.” He sighed. “And yes, I guess ancient Ponies weren’t always the brightest. You girls are all okay, though, right?”
“Fine, Vital. We talked, we watched Daring fight, my mind got officially blown, Rainbow became a raving fangirl, and then she chased off after Daring to try to help.”
“Well, if everything is all right, then I need to go clear the ship of any unwanted individuals,” Hammer Strike commented.
“I’m guessing we don’t have to worry so much about that, Hammer Strike. They’d be pretty stupid to try to take the Gantrithor,” Vital said. “And Circlet would have sensed them.”
“Yes, but interior weapons haven’t been implemented, at least any that won’t damage the Gantrithor.”
“So ask Caring to smoke them out, and then we capture and/or interrogate them, should any be there?” Vital asked.
“Again, interior based weapons haven’t been fully implemented. That includes forms of gas to deal with intrusions. Not non-explosive ones.”
“I meant by telling us where to look, not actually asking her to smoke them out,” Vital deadpanned.
“Um, I hate to break up this precious moment, but could we please get going?” Twilight asked. “Ahuizotl could enact his plan at any time. We have to intercept the ring before that happens!”
“Grif, Pensword, and the others are on their way already,” Hammer Strike replied simply. “But, all right. Follow me.”
Grif waited as Daring Do entered the clearing. Moss and grass had been fashioned into a makeshift beard on her face, and she entered the camp carrying a large sack of bits. Grif watched as she put on a false accent, and began attempting to bribe the corrupt archeologist. The moment all heads went to the bits, he acted. Erupting from the bush, he grabbed the first stallion, and, with a deft movement, snapped his neck. Then he drew his knife, and slit the second stallion’s throat, before he had a chance to react. Lastly, he drove the knife blade into the back of the third thug’s skull. The three hit the ground in almost synchronized thumps as Grif tapped Caballeron on his shoulder.
Caballeron turned around in shock. “What? A Gryphon! Are you here for the ring–?” he was cut off as Grif’s fist impacted with his face, before the Gryphon lifted him off the ground, grabbed the ring, and tossed it to Daring Do. He then proceeded to tie the archeologist to a nearby tree trunk. “Seriously, Miss Do, you do know there is a reason you don’t show the money until you’re sure of the transaction, right?”
“I could’ve handled them,” she replied gruffly. “Also, dinner and a movie first, bud.”
“Keep your money, Ma’am. This was a matter of national security, so I’m certain Celestia will be able to pay me more.” He retrieved his knife. “Grif Blad–.” He was cut off as an orange-and-black blur proceeded to pounce him from behind. The two forms crashed across the ground. Claws, talons, fangs, and beak flashed periodically. Several other large cats made an appearance, and began encroaching on Daring, as well as a small white cat, which seemed unable to tell it was a non-element in the current situation.
“Ah, Daring Do, my nemesis.” A large creature emerged from the brush. He had deep blue fur with an awkward elongated face. His front legs ended in two ape-like hands complete with five fingers, and a thumb, and his long prehensile tail ended in a third identical hand. “I must admit your new ally caught me off guard, but I’m sure my pets will be able to handle him.” He sneered. “Now, the ring, if you please.”
“Oh, Ahuizotl, you know I love you, but I can’t give you the ring till I’ve properly proposed,” Daring said as she hung the ring from one of her wings, flipped into the air, and struck the creature on its face with a hoof as she zoomed past, and braced for combat.
The large cats pounced at her, and she bucked them away admirably, using well-aimed kicks with all four hooves. For a while, it seemed like the battle might be winnable when Daring Do, Grif, and a camouflaged Pensword all proceeded to groan as Rainbow cried out.
In a few moments, Ahuizotl had Rainbow Dash in his clutches, and used the mare as a hostage. Grif attempted to help, but the tiger was surprisingly strong. In the end, Daring relented, and she was bound. Soon she and the ring were taken away as the creature slammed Rainbow into a tree. The other big cats covered their retreat as they vanished into the forest. Just at this point, Grif finally found an opening, and sunk the tip of his beak through the top of the tiger’s skull. Pushing the dying cat off him, he moved to follow, only to find the attackers gone. He winced in pain as he checked the deep claw marks over his body.
“This is not good,” Pensword muttered as he limped into the clearing. “Puma attacked me.” He grit his teeth. “I can fly, but not nearly so well as normal. That cat took a few primaries. Still–.” He broke off when he saw Rainbow Dash’s expression, even as he heard the approach of other hooves. “Well this is bad.”
“Bad?” Grif looked incredulously at him, before kicking the tiger’s corpse repeatedly, until the ribcage gave in with a sickening crack. “This is a disaster.”
“Ever hear of us understating the situation? You know, the British do that a lot,” Pensword replied.
A sudden gust blew through the clearing as the shadow of the Gantrithor fell over the group. In a matter of moments, the trees bent and cracked, forming a makeshift airdock for the ship as it extended its gangplank for its passengers to disembark. Vital Spark groaned as they came on scene. “We can’t leave you guys alone for five minutes without you getting into a life-or-death fight, can we?” He sighed. “Twilight, you come with me. I’m going to need some help patching these two up, and I know you know at least a little bit about basic healing spells. Every battle mage knows basic first aid. The rest of you, stick with Rainbow, and make sure she stays put. I know that expression pretty well. She needs some support, and a sober perspective. Oh, and Circlet, if Rainbow does try to fly out of range, shoot her down, but only on stun. We need everybody here, and we need to hear what happened from her.”
“Is that really necessary?” Twilight asked.
“Tell me, Twilight, what happened the last time Rainbow’s pride got destroyed by an incident her actions caused?”
“. . . Good point.”
“I’m afraid I can’t reduce the power that effectively just yet, Vital Spark. The cannons weren’t designed to go below 3 gigawatts. I’ve managed to reduce it to about 1.21 gigawatts, but that’s still strong for most Ponies to withstand,” Caring reported.
Vital sighed. “Fine. Girls, just keep an eye on Rainbow, then. Yo, Hammer Strike! You gonna come down here?” he shouted as he approached Pensword, and his horn ignited. A light blue aura surrounded the Pony’s open wounds, and they slowly began to close. Twilight was swift to enact the same spell on Grif.
Pensword nodded his head, “Thank you for the help, Vital, but please keep an eye out. There might be more felines out there in the wilds.” He winced. “It stings, but I’ve had worse.”
“Stinging is good. That means your body’s natural defenses are working with the magic.” Vital smiled. “Who knows, maybe I’ll be this party’s medic by the time we’re done in Equestria, eh? Or better yet, the white mage.” He chuckled. “Just don’t call me Little Green, all right?”
“Why would I call you Little Green? You are white, and you are not an alien. Plus, you are a little bigger than I am.”
“Check with Matthew, Pensword. You’ll get the joke.”
Pensword looked at Vital. “We are both confused,” he answered. “Only Little Green thing is Little Green Men, aliens, and the like.”
“Team Four Star, Matt.” Vital sighed, and rolled his eyes.
“I’ve never heard of them. Or, at least, I’ve heard so little that I’ve forgotten. Remember, over twenty years of Pony memories are up here,” he said as he tapped his head with a hoof. “I’m amazed I still know so much about the Titanic, Star Trek, and history in general.”
“Well, assuming there really is an audience out there somewhere, I hope they at least appreciate it,” Vital grumbled. “Okay, you’re done. You should probably see about keeping Rainbow from running away. If that look and those drooping wings are anything to go by, she’s been crushed.”
“Thank you. And don’t worry. I’ll keep her from going AWOL,” Pensword promised as he trotted to join the girls in their attempts at consolation towards the downtrodden cadet.
Grif turned to Caballeron, even as Twilight worked to mend the wounds the tiger had managed to inflict. The corrupt archaeologist was still tied to the tree trunk, and struggling to escape. The Pony fixed Grif with a look that felt somewhere between smug arrogance and fear as the Gryphon’s rage-filled eyes drew ever closer. “So, Mister Caterwaller–.”
“Dr. Caballeron,” the stallion interrupted.
“Duly noted. Dr. Jerkface. Here’s how this goes. I’m going to ask you a few questions. If you choose to answer, then we’ll just knock you out. I’m sure a smart guy like the person you try to impersonate will know how to escape, before something predatory comes along. If you say no, and please, please say no,” Grif said as he leaned in uncomfortably close to the stallion, and sneered. “I’m going to peel you like a banana, until you talk. Then, after you’ve talked, I’m going to peel you some more, and dump you into a vat of saltwater and lemon juice. I could use the stress relief, after what’s just happened, but the choice is yours.”
Caballeron took a look at Grif, the bloodstained talons, the clotted fur, the residue of the blood from the wounds, even as Twilight’s magic worked diligently to close them. The pulsating purple magic inevitably drew Caballeron’s eyes to the ugly roadmap of white scar tissue beneath, and the corded muscles that flexed and relaxed with every movement Grif made. He also took a moment to reflect on just how sharp those dagger-like talons had been, the damage they had done in combat, and the unpleasant sensation they would doubtless cause, should they be turned on his beautiful hide. The blood from the tiger had hardened on Grif’s beak to form a speckled crust that seemed to cause the Gryphon’s eyes to glow. The tip caught in the light as the sneer broke into a malevolent grin, exposing Grif’s many sharpened fangs.
Caballeron took this all in, and considered what Ahuizotl might do to him for giving up the information these people wanted over what he very much believed this very large, very angry Gryphon would do to him in the now. Naturally, he sang like a canary.
After a rousing speech from Twilight, the group were on the move again. The Gantrithor continued its advance as they sped towards their goal, much to Grif’s annoyance as Pensword continued to refuse to call the ship anything but the Giant, and they maintained a slower speed, rather than putting the pedal to the metal, when time was of the essence.
“So, we are racing into one Ahuizotl’s main fortress to stop, and I quote, ‘eight hundred years of unending, sweltering heat.’ Why does this sound so much like a normal Wednesday?” Pensword muttered to himself, then sighed. “So, Rainbow Dash, when we get to that pyramid, we need you to find Daring Do, and get her helmet back. Grif, you follow behind. I’ll go with the others to try to interrupt the ceremony before it can be completed, okay?”
“Listen, Pensword. Each and every Pony in that fortress is a co-conspirator here. That means that if you meet anyone at all in battle, you don’t hesitate to run them through. Got it?” Grif leveled Pensword with a stare. “Don’t bother to stop and ask questions.”
“Of course,” he replied as he caught the look that the other five were giving him. “Err . . . knockouts?” he suggested. That seemed to relieve the tension a bit. “Now go on. I’ll catch up with you.” He waited for the five to be inside the building. “Grif, I want to end this, but I would rather not have an Alicorn Princess mad at me. Twilight is powerful. When her horn glows, my feathers bristle from the mana flow, so … I am going to go at it with any who live past my attacks to be taken as POWs.” He shook his head. “Of course, how those six might get through this without killing, I don’t know.”
“Yes, well I’ve got two little cubs at home, and one goddaughter that tells me what Twilight doesn’t know won’t hurt her. This is rebellion, if that soothes your conscience. Ponies aren't native to this area, so these tribals have turned against the crown to follow a would-be-tyrant. They’re as good as dead anyway.”
“Still, you know me. Equestria first. Now go on. We’ll all meet up, most likely at the ceremony chamber. I would be for taking out his powerbase, but I have a princess over my neck.” He sighed, and shook his head again. “Just take care of yourself.”
Grif signaled for Rainbow to follow him silently as they moved. He stopped every few minutes to analyze a mural here or there, before taking particular notice of a picture depicting a Pony being eaten by a fish. He took a deep whiff, then nodded. “In here,” he noted as he pushed on the left side of one section of the stone. It immediately gave way, opening to a narrow corridor. “When we get to the chamber, you help get Daring to safety, okay? According to the idiot, this passage leads to a long wide-open chamber with spiked pillars in the corners, and piranha-infested water. There will be a narrow opening with a ledge nearby, where you’ll find Daring Do. You got all that?”
“You bet.” Rainbow smiled confidently. “That Daring’s going to get help, whether she wants it or not. What are you going to do while I’m helping her, though? Act as backup? Guard the rear?”
“You ever taste fresh piranha?” Grif asked with a chuckle. Much as he had predicted, they found the chamber just in time. Daring Do seemed to be attempting to fly with four heavy stone weights tied to her hooves. Grif shot Rainbow a wink, and dove into the water, while Rainbow flew in to catch Daring beneath her forelegs. After a minor gruff exchange, in which Rainbow finally came out the victor, Daring gave a begrudging acknowledgement, before the two raced out through another passage, and Daring explained the reasoning behind her harsh behavior from before. While it wasn’t a full apology, it was certainly enough for Rainbow to forgive her, and to respect her all the more for her military strategy.
Grif landed on the ledge a few seconds later, soaked, and snacking on several still-wiggling piranha shish kabobs on the edge of his sword.
“Now where’d those two troublemakers get off to?” he pondered.
A pebble wrapped around in a rainbow-colored cloth plopped onto Grif’s head. He quickly unwrapped it, and read the contents.
Grif. Gone to throne room to stop evil ritual. Catch up when you can. RD
Grif moved through the hallways, chewing on his fish. He found the ritual chamber as Ponies ran around trying to catch the five Mane Six members as they raced around the room, playing a game of keep away with a gold ring, while Rainbow and Daring Do attempted to remove the other rings from the stack, and Hammer Strike used the small white housecat from earlier as a flail to beat down the surviving larger cats.
Grif reached up casually, and grabbed the ring out of the air as it sailed by. A second later, Pensword raced past, and bowled into one of the spear-wielding Ponies. As he had expected, many of the Ponies dressed in tribal uniforms encroached upon him with their spears at the ready as they tried to look as threatening and intimidating as possible. “Uh, I’m over there,” Grif said casually as he pointed behind one of them. The guards rolled their eyes, and charged. There were several wet squelching sounds and sickening thunks as the Ponies charged forward, some knocking themselves out, while most impaled themselves on each others’ spears as the speed mirage they charged fizzled out of existence. Grif looked at the bloody mess, and shook his head, before taking another bite of piranha. “Amateurs,” he tsked. “Hey, Pensword! Heads up!” he yelled, before throwing the ring to his friend.
Pensword zipped under Ahuizotl’s tail, snatched the ring, and zipped up into the air as he passed it back to Fluttershy. As the deadly game continued, Rainbow and Daring struggled to pull each of the rings off, with each one being larger and heavier than the last.
“Vital, can you run some interference?” Pensword shouted as he motioned to the rings, then to Ahuizotl. Thankfully, Ahuizotl didn’t notice, since he was busy chasing Pinkie Pie.
“Well, that depends,” Vital said as he smashed his staff into another guard’s face, and knocked him out. “You think he’d be interested in little old me?”
“There is a tank of water in one of the chambers. Think if I can get him in there, you can freeze him solid?” Grif asked.
“I just have one thing to say to you, Grif,” Vital said with a malicious grin as his staff began to glow. “Winter is coming.”
Grif nodded, and proceeded to snatch the ring from the air. “Hey, monkey face! Follow me!” he shouted as he took off.
Ahuizotl let out a rage-filled scream as he followed the Gryphon through the halls. After a very long chase scene, including the obligatory montage, he saw the battle-worn Gryphon standing at the other end of the hallway, holding the ring out teasingly. The beast charged forward, and through the opening. Grif didn’t move. He didn’t even blink. If Ahuizotl weren’t so focused on his prize, this behavior might have given him some pause. Unfortunately for him, this was not the case. He laughed in triumph. He was only a few feet away from Grif now. And that laughter continued for a time, at least until he heard the lapping, and smelled the substance that was his element. He looked down, and his fears were confirmed. There was nothing beneath his paws. For a cartoonish moment, he hung there, and then gravity kicked in, pulling him head first into the water
“You really need to chill, man,” Grif chuckled.
“How about a nice, relaxing ice bath?” Vital asked as he emerged from a side corridor and approached the trap, before touching his staff’s tip to the top of the water. The ice spread quickly, forming a thin sheet that rapidly thickened and descended like powder sifting in the air as the water froze into a massive ice cube.
“Congratulations, Vital,” Grif said as he launched across the gap, and landed behind his friend. He laid a claw on the Unicorn's shoulder in mock solemnity. “Now you are a man.”
“On the contrary, my dear Grif,” Vital said with a playful smirk. “Now I am a stallion.”
And then the ground began shaking beneath their paws and hooves respectively. “Well that can’t be good. What do you figure someone triggered the collapsing temple booby trap?” Grif asked.
“Oh, I’d say our odds are probably in the one hundred percent category,” Vital replied. “Mind if I hitch a ride? I believe we have our escape route waiting for us up there,” he said as he pointed skyward.
Grif wrapped his arms around Vital’s barrel, and took off into the air through the conveniently-placed open roof. After planting the Unicorn safely on the ground, the Gryphon made his way back in, and exited moments later, carrying Pinkie Pie and Applejack as Twilight, Rainbow Dash, Fluttershy, Daring Do, and Pensword followed behind him. The wall closest to Vital Spark exploded a moment later as Hammer Strike walked through casually with Rarity across his back.
“Wow. That wall didn’t even stand a chance, did it?” Vital asked.
“There was a wall?” Hammer Strike questioned.
“Hammer Strike, can you kiss Rarity already, so we can finish this adventure?” Grif asked.
“. . . Okay.” Hammer Strike smiled as he turned his head around, and leaned it down to kiss his beloved, who was blushing profusely, before she melted into the kiss. Steam rose from her rapier as the blood from the enemies that had tried to kill her slowly vaporized, revealing a glowing cherry-red blade that was quickly cast aside in the moment to burn some scrub that had grown between the cracks of the ancient stonework beneath their hooves. A group wolf whistle promptly followed.
“As for you, Miss Yearling–” Grif turned to Daring Do “–my companions and I need you to accompany us. We have some private business to discuss, after which we will happily see that you get to any destination you desire by whatever means you wish.”
“Just leave us out of any books you are planning to write,” Pensword added. “Please.” He turned his head as part of the wall that still stood fell forward, and a small white ball of fluff stepped out and hissed. Seeing just how outnumbered it was, the cat did the smart thing, and fled into the underbrush. Meanwhile, the tribal Ponies poked their heads up from the rubble with dazed expressions on their faces as they tried to recover from the disorientation of nearly being buried alive under several tons of rubble.
“Speak for yourself, Pensword. I think it’d be fun to be a character in a book. Any writer worth his or her salt knows how important it is to base book characters off of real events. It lets you get more sincere personalities, and makes it more relatable to the reader. As a matter of fact, Miss Yearling, if you have the time between books, I’d love to exchange notes on writing styles and techniques. I majored in Language with a Creative Writing emphasis back in college, so it’s always a pleasure to interact with a fellow writer,” Vital said.
“Yes,” Pensword muttered, “but you are not the Avatar of the Winds, nor the Commander who bathed in the blood of his enemies and commanded the damned in an act of vengeance, nor–.” He brought himself up short. “You get my point, I hope. Having the two of us show up can ruin the immersion of the book, and the readers’ personal experiences.”
Grif looked at AK Yearling, and sighed. “Ma’am, please, as one professional to another, forgive my friends. You, of course, can write whatever you feel is valid for your book with our blessing. We didn’t come here just so Rainbow Dash or Vital Spark can go rabid fan either. What we have to discuss involves several key artifacts you have found previously, and a few of your early research papers, the ones referring to symbols and glyphs that you believe may have,” he cleared his throat, “higher origins?”
“Hey! I’m not being a rabid fanboy here, Grif!” Vital protested. “How can I be when I’m still working through the series?”
“Either Way, let's get going back to the ship. I want to glass this place before we head off,” Grif said as he took wing.
“Glass?” Vital balked. “Grif, there are still Ponies struggling to get out of that rubble.”
“And under Equestrian Law, Statute 338, Paragraph Six, Subsection Two, they’re all traitors to the crown, and, upon proving of their treason to a high enough official, are susceptible to capital punishment. I trust you're convinced, Hammer Strike?”
“He’s not wrong.” Hammer Strike shrugged.
“And under Military Statute Six of the old military command laws, high ranking Equestrian military officers must approve or disagree with the orders of the noble. In short, this is the two key system. I think you can guess my answer, Lord Hammer Strike.”
Vital Spark took a deep breath, and did his best to keep himself from hyperventilating as the full gravity of what was about to pass, and the justification thereof, struck him.
“I know it don’t seem right,” Applejack’s familiar voice spoke up as a gentle hoof was placed on his shoulder, “but sometimes the best cider comes from the weirdest apples.”
“I know that was supposed to be a helpful phrase and all, Applejack, but how in tarnation is that supposed to apply to the apples that are literally being thrown into the fire?” Vital sighed. “I don’t know if I have the stomach for this just yet. I know it has to be done. Just . . ..”
“Right, uh, Princess, would you please take Vital to his quarters, and keep him away from any windows when we get on?” Pensword asked.
Twilight nodded. “We’ll take care of him, Pensword.” She ignited her horn. Seconds later, the Mane Six, Vital Spark, and Hammer Strike had all vanished in a flash.
“And I think I will be seeing how I and Recruit Dash can be of work in the Gallies,” Pensword muttered as he veered up towards the ship.
“This way, Miss Yearling,” Grif told her as he headed for the ship.
“A royal commission, huh?” Yearling asked with a smirk. “I suppose I can make some time for it, provided you can make it worth my while.” She laughed. “The least I can do is hear you out, since you’re the ones giving me a lift back.”
“Ma’am, Lord Hammer Strike has enough money to buy Canterlot, overlay the city in gold, encrust that gold in diamonds, overlay the entire thing with platinum, have it demolished, and then start the process over with rebuilding the city. If it’s bits you want, you just have to say how many zeros.”
“How about we discuss the details of this little venture of yours first. I’ll hold off on judgement till then. No promises, though,” she stated firmly.
“Well then, let me be the first to welcome you to the Gantrithor, former flagship of the emperor of Gryphonia himself, a sort of thank you gift for saving his life,” Grif said as the massive ship loomed before them.
“Caring Circlet’s lost weapons platform? And he parted with it willingly? This is some of the most advanced Crystal Pony tech the empire ever produced in its heyday,” Daring gushed. “If I could get even just a few minutes to analyze its rune structure and power relays. . ..”
“We’re in the middle of swapping the relays to a more efficient system,” Grif noted as they landed. “The last ones were less than adequate for the task.”
“Please tell me you at least kept the core?” Daring begged.
“The one of a kind power source that there will hopefully never be another one like it ever made? Yes, we kept that. Not sure we could keep the ship running without it.”
“May I see it?”
“Two conditions to that,” Grif said. “The first is you can’t attempt to remake it. The second is you’re not toting it off to some museum somewhere. The last thing we want is some alchemist trying to recreate Circlet’s work.”
“As if I’d let her try,” Circlet’s voice carried over the ship’s speakers.
“Who was that?” Daring asked.
“Miss yearling, how much do you know about the bloodstone core?” Grif asked.
“Vital, you can come up to the bridge, if you want,” Grif’s voice called over the PA. “The crater’s no longer visible.”
“Thanks for the offer, Grif,” Vital said as he spoke into his own receiver, “but I need a little more time first. I’m okay. Just . . . still got a few things I need to work out first. See you in about a half hour or so?”
“Take your time,” Grif responded a second later.
Vital nodded as he knelt down on his bed, and looked over two thick leather-bound books, the one with an Alicorn embossed on its cover, the other with English words engraved on its edges. He sighed as he looked over the both of them. “Now who to pray to for their souls?” he wondered.
Grif shook his head as he surveyed the horizon. “You were right, Pensword. He really isn’t ready for what duty requires of us.”
“You are correct. Though, in his defense, I didn’t know if I was ready, either, and I trained for it. He doesn’t have that benefit.” Pensword sighed. “Besides, like it or not, we need his innocence. While I do enjoy teasing him as much as the next person, he is why we fight, or at least one of the reasons.”
“I shouldn’t have pushed for him to come with us,” Grif said stubbornly as he shook his head.
“Well he did choose to come, and he did create a means that most likely assured the survival of our main rival to Daring Do, so it’s not like he’s broken any rules in this universe, or even shed any blood, truth be told. If anything, I’d like to know what in Faust’s name those Ponies were thinking. This was treason. Did they honestly think they could have hidden from the crown forever?”
“Nevermind that. I’m sure Celestia would have noticed the building heat.”
“Well, I kept some of the fragments from that ring we smashed. What worried me was if these rings might have done something to our princess.” He sighed. “We really need to open a research division into these artifacts. Perhaps they’ll be able to develop proper countermeasures and safeguards for them.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Grif chuckled. “In case you hadn’t realized, my friend, I became a father recently, and I plan to put as much time as I can towards that vocation.”
“Well, I hope it is a good endeavor for you. Moon River is getting old enough that she can come with Daddy. She already knows about the White Knight project, and I truly think she will be one of the first sights he sees upon waking up.”
“I certainly hope I’m good at it.” Grif chuckled. “But as for the endeavor itself? I’ve been told it’s one of the best there is.”
“So, what, we wait for Hammer Strike, Daring Do, and Caring Circlet to finish in that core room, and we can get this conversation going?”
“You got a better idea for convincing the world's most skilled archeological explorer to help us look for an ancient island that may or may not be a fairy tale?” Grif asked.
“Well, with the budget Strike can give her, I doubt she can say no, and it lets us clean house in the underworld as well.”
“Money isn’t what she wants. You didn’t see it in her face? The money line was just testing us out. She wants knowledge, history, a challenge.”
“Well, she needs the resources to hunt for this. After all, research, travel to lost archives, resources for aerial recon. As one good professor states, ninety percent of archaeology is done in the library. Research.”
“Yes, but as another pointed out, that's why so many supposed facts get disproven yearly, not enough people out in the field to see the environment.”
“Ah, so we give her that chance to go into the field?” Pensword asked.
“We give her a chance to prove this,” Grif said as he slipped a file to across the captain's table. Inside was a series of documents making up a dissertation, which had received a notably poor grade for being a flight of fancy. “‘An archeology dissertation paper on the possible existence of Atlantica,’ submitted by one AK Yearling, former student at the University of Hidalgo. This particular paper had said student laughed out of the institute.”
“I am both surprised and not surprised you have that paper,” Pensword replied. “You certainly seem to have the pieces, and your plan. Far be it for me to cut in from the upper drafts on your project.” He paused. “Can I have a copy to read?”
“Actually, Hammer Strike was the one who asked me to look into this. I was just thorough.” Grif shrugged. “You can take that one. I have several.”
“Thank you. It will give me something to read on the trip home,” Pensword replied as he tucked the paper under his wing.
Three days later, the Gantrithor finally pulled back into its berth, and six mares and a dragon disembarked wearily. Some were simply tired. Some, like Rarity, were covered in a new set of scratches and bruises, and Rainbow Dash was particularly tired, sore, and finding herself with a lot more on her mind. The seven made their way off the airship dock without a fuss, and headed home.
Back in the ship’s war room, Grif, Pensword, Hammer Strike, Vital Spark, and Daring Do sat at a large strategy table, where a pile of the last of the assorted exotic fruits onboard stood alongside a small keg of gwarkhala,one of the last of the ship's supply, which Grif had been saving for a special occasion. He slid a folder across to A.K. Yearling.
“Did you really believe what you said in this paper?” he asked her.
Daring narrowed her gaze. “You know I do. Why else do you think I had to settle for Hidalgo? Bale called me a laughing stock,” she growled.
“And yet, with all the expeditions you’ve done, I’ve yet to see Daring Do and the Alicorn Island amongst your memoirs. Why?” he asked.
“The usual reasons. Power hungry terrorists, cults, various other organizations that keep trying to track me down, so they can use me to bolster their bases.” She shrugged. “Ahuizotl was just the tip of the iceberg.”
“It sounds like you need an ice breaker. Tell me, with the correct resources, do you think you could find it?” Grif leaned back, raising an eyebrow.
“If I could get a closer look at the artifacts recovered from Yakyakistan and the Crystal Empire? Certainly. Heck, half my thesis was based on the existence of the empire itself. If I could get the permission to review their archives, see their reliquaries, I should be able to confirm my thesis, and find the next clue.”
“I thought you were going to request something complicated,” Hammer Strike commented.
“I can put a good word in for you as well,” Pensword added. “We’re rather close with the royal family.”
“All we’re asking, Miss Yearling, is that you won’t go to anyone else to receive funding or resources for this expedition. In exchange for working exclusively with Lord Hammer Strike on this venture, we can assure you everything you’d need,” Grif noted. “We have no reason to doubt your discretion; we just want to be sure you don’t underestimate Lord Hammer Strike’s ability to fund this venture.”
“You realize this is going to take time. Evidence of ancient Alicorns is rare enough as it is. I may have to broaden the search, in order to find the way to the island.”
“Do you believe there are archeologists out there more capable than you at finding the way?” Grif asked.
“Only the idiots like Caballeron would dare to even try.” She paused for a moment. “Well . . . there was one other, but he disappeared a ways back. Last I heard, he was heading to the empire to research the roots of its culture.”
“Well then, we’ll just have to make things tough on him, won’t we?” Grif chuckled. With a nod from Hammer Strike, he tossed over an envelope. “First month's pay, plus signing bonus, if you agree. That's a promissory note good at any bank in the Equine nations.”
“You do realize I have a contractual obligation to finish my book first,” she said. “I can’t start there till after I present my manuscript for publication. Give me about a couple of weeks, and I should be ready.”
“Keep the pay,” Hammer Strike commented dismissively.
“I assume you want this kept on the down low?”
“Perhaps for the best.”
“And the girls?”
“Do not let them know.” Pensword groaned. “Rainbow Dash would want to come with; Pinkie Pie would talk, unless we get her to pinkie promise; Twilight will research it to the point where she might even try to hold up the investigation, because she can’t find any proof or evidence; Rarity will freak out about the fashions, and demand we take her with Hammer Strike; Fluttershy will be nervous; and we can’t have Applejack involved. She is away from the farm enough as is.”
“I think I can manage that.” Daring smirked. “I think I’ve mentioned how I tend to work better alone enough that it doesn’t bear repeating.” She chuckled. “That Rainbow Dash is pretty stubborn. She reminds me a little of myself when I was her age.”
Pensword’s ears shot up, and he groaned, before smacking his forehead on the table. “Faust help the Wonderbolts,” he whispered. “I don’t know if I am excited at that or dreading the impact such an assessment could have on that mare’s future.”
“So then, Miss Yearling, where can I drop you off?” Grif asked.
“I’ve got an apartment near my publishers in case of events like this. Just drop me off in Manehattan, and I’ll get things sorted.”
“Okay, I can handle that,” Grif noted. “The rest of you guys can disembark.”
“I guess I’ll see you all later, then,” Vital Spark said. “Clover’s probably going to want a report as soon as I’m settled back in, anyways.”
“Right. I am going to spend time with my family,” Pensword said. “You all take care. I’ll see you when you get back, Grif.” With that, the commander got up, and left the room to disembark. Vital Spark soon followed.
“When you get back, could you remind me to finish exchanging the relays over, Grif?” Hammer Strike asked as he stood from his chair.
“Yeah. I’ll find you. I have a few stops to make on the way back, but I shouldn’t be more than a day, maybe two,” Grif noted.
“Got it,” Hammer Strike replied as he left the room.
“So what now?” Daring asked.
“You’ll want to sit in one of the weird-looking chairs,” Grif noted as they made their way to the bridge. “The inertia dampeners are powerful, but they have limitations when the field’s as big as it is. The inertia-canceling chairs do a much better job at ridiculously high speeds.”
“Are we talking rainboom speed here?”
“Maybe back when we had Gryphic runes transferring power at one one hundredth a percent efficiency. Miss Dash may be the fastest biological flyer in Equis, but let’s just say the Gantrithor is no slouch either.” He chuckled as he moved behind the central panel. “We have clear weather up until New Hoofshire. After that, there is, supposedly, a mandatory storm.”
“Not an issue,” Caring circlet confirmed as the ship detached from the dock, and the engines began to thrum. Grif got into his chair, and motioned for Daring to do the same. When she did, he nodded.
“Brace for G-force. And if you feel a pain in your eyeballs, don’t panic. Your vision should clear up within an hour or so of stopping. . .. Probably,” he warned
“Oh, this is going to be fun.” Daring smirked as she leveled her pith helmet, and braced for the spectacle to come.
Outside, the Gantrithor suddenly hurtled forward at startling speed. Less than a mile away from the dock, it turned to face the east coast, and then put on another burst of speed. A familiar rainbow-colored wave broke off the ship’s hull, followed by a trail. Grif smiled smugly as he was absolutely certain he heard a loud, “OH, COME ON!” from Ponyville’s direction, even as the town shrank behind them.
Gilda sighed as she pulled open the door to Little Willow’s infirmary. The mare was busily checking on stock for medical supplies, healing herbs, and supplements with a Unicorn assistant, while various Gryphons turned out the beds or gathered sheets and gowns for proper washing. It seemed every time she tried to visit someone, even at that person’s request, she always came at the worst times. She braced herself, then cleared her throat.
“Um, Willow?” Gilda asked uncomfortably as she brushed her crest backwards and let it bounce back into place again. “You . . . wanted to see me?”
“You can calm down, Gilda. You’re not here for a check-up,” Little Willow said, smiling at the younger Gryphoness. “I would have thought the two of us had become good friends over the past few months.”
Gilda blushed as her fur bristled briefly, and she wrestled with her ego. ‘Come on, Gilda, pull yourself together,’ she thought to herself. ‘Keep it cool.’
“Can you come a bit closer?” Little Willow asked.
“Um . . . sure. You need something?” Gilda asked. She wasn’t that good with all that communication stuff after all that time in Griffonstone. Rainbow was one of the few people she could really open up to without feeling so nervous. She sighed to herself. If she could have something to do, that would make this a lot easier.
“You‘ve heard the story of how Grif saved us a few dozen times by now, so I’m sure you also know Grif taught us a lot about your culture in that time,” Little Willow noted as she produced a small wooden box from amongst the array of medical tools.
“Yeah, so what’s your point?” Gilda asked. Then she mentally smacked herself. She really needed to work on that rough edge. Stupid nerves.
“Gilda, hold out your dominant talon, please.”
Gilda did so, though she still wasn’t certain what was going on exactly.
“Grif told me what little he knew of bridal customs, and Kalima has helped me to fill in more,” she said as she opened the box, and then proceeded to reach out with her hooves. Gilda’s talons were obscured for a moment, but she felt something being tied. “When a Gryphoness is to be a bride, she weaves a cord from her fur: one double braid, and three or so single braids. She then proceeds to braid them across the talons of the gryphonesses she wants to stand beside her during the ceremony. The single braids go to the bridesmaids, and the double cord–” she removed her hooves, revealing the double-braided cord crisscrossing Gildas index talon “–to her shield sister.”
Gilda’s brain immediately crashed as she gaped down at the braid. “But . . . but I haven’t done anything! I mean, sure, we’ve gotten to know eachother a bit, but this. . ..”
“Gilda Bladefeather, would you stand beside me as I go to meet this challenge in my life?”
‘Crap, crap, crap!’ Gilda swore internally. To deny the request would be to dishonor and disrespect Willow. Gilda knew better than to do that, but to receive such an honor. . .. “I . . . I don’t know that I deserve this,” finally came out.
“What have you done that makes you less worthy of this? I can guarantee you I have done much worse to make myself unworthy of the happiness I’ve found. You lashed out, Gilda. I have murdered. I have tortured. You think the clan members are scared to come into this infirmary? You should have seen the Gryphons Grif dragged into my care during the Third Gryphon War. I’ve made warriors die in terror, Gilda. By far, you have no sins that make you even a fraction less worthy than I am.”
“Willow . . . I don’t know what to say.” Gilda’s pupils had contracted as her heart rate rose from the stress. Here was a Pony who was, by far, one of the most prominent figures in the village, after Grif and his family, and she had deemed the passing relationship they’d gained after all of Gilda’s sparring injuries enough to be worthy of this great an honor. She did her best to get her breathing under control as she shut her eyes, and concentrated on the darkness to stop her body from hyperventilating. A warrior must keep control of all her emotions, whether it be fear, annoyance, or astonishment. She had to maintain control. She couldn’t let herself break. And then she felt that same set of gentle hooves holding her talons, then stroking her breast feathers in a calming sweep.
“It’s okay, Gilda. I won’t tell Grif. Tell me how you feel.”
Gilda chuckled, then sat down on her hind quarters. “You sound like Twilight, though I guess that’s not necessarily a bad thing, seeing as she’s a princess and all. I’m just . . . overwhelmed, I guess? I mean, I didn’t think we were that close for you to want to do this for me, though I guess it’s for you more than me.” She groaned. “Doing this emotion stuff is hard, after growing up in Griffonstone, you know? I don’t know how to really talk to people.”
“Gilda, tell me, how many friends do you think I have?” Little Willow asked.
“Are you kidding me? Everyone in the clan loves you. Big Mac and his family welcome you with open arms, your big brother, Hammer Strike and his friends, need I go on?”
“Gilda, the clan loves me, because my wealthy brother took them out of poverty. Sure, I’ve gained a reputation for my work in here, but I still treat warriors who don’t really know my name. Big Macintosh and his family love me, yes, but, honestly, I’m still getting hints for names for most of them from Mac. I’ve had precious few conversations with Hammer Strike, and all of them have been, essentially, because he was talking to Grif, who happened to have been talking to me. My war buddies either died when Grif was captured or kicked the bucket from old age more than a thousand years ago.
“I have a few friends amongst the Demon Slayers, but, in all honesty, the group I consider friends isn’t that big. And out of all of them, the one I’ve spoken the most with happens to be a sometimes overly-irritable Gryphoness who first came into my office because my brother had just finished showing her several large flaws in her fighting style. The one who I taught to throw knives, and the one who I have, on more than one occasion, had to elbow in the ribs to take her eyes off his impressive array of battle scars.” She chuckled at that remark, and smirked in Gilda’s direction. “Honestly, Gilda, you are the best friend I have alive in this era of time. Now stop dancing around the issue, and tell me. Will you be my shield sister?”
“You . . . you really mean all that?” Gilda asked. The smack on her head more than answered that question for her, and addressed the idiocy of implying Willow wasn’t speaking the truth. Then Gilda laughed. “Okay, okay, I give. I give! You’re about as determined as Rainbow, and relentless as Pinkie PIe.” She grabbed Willow’s hoof. “It would be my honor to stand at your side, and guard you in the time to come.”
Willow hugged her quite suddenly. “Thank you, Gilda. You’re a good friend.”
Gilda sniffled. “All right, I’ll cry just this once. But don’t expect me to break down at the wedding,” she said as she leaned into Willow’s shoulder.
Willow laughed. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”
Grif checked his surroundings one last time as he dug the spade into the earth. After dropping Daring Do off just outside Manehattan, he had stopped at one of the locations where he had buried his loot from the Third Gryphon War. Fortunately, this one ended up in the center of an arid area with hard, solid ground that had not been investigated, due to the region’s harshness.
Unfortunately, a thousand years’ worth of environmental shifting, and other unforeseen events, had pushed the chests deeper than Grif had intended. He could already see the first rays of morning light on the horizon as he hauled the first chest out, causing a minor cave in, which meant more digging. This process repeated itself, until he had extracted five other identical chests.
Smiling, Grif turned to the first one. It was made of heavy black iron with several sturdy locks carved with equestrian runes that glowed a heavy blue. He rubbed his talon over them, and spoke the word, the same word he’d given the Unicorn who enchanted the chests for him, a word in ancient gryphic that probably hadn’t been used in centuries. As he finished the last syllable, the runes turned red, and the locks clicked open in rapid succession.
Grif opened the chest, and smiled as the gleam of artifacts in fine gold and silver: old gryphon statues, and fine cloth banners rolled up in a small pile greeted him. He checked the many jeweled pieces, and confirmed everything was present and accounted for. He closed the chest, and re-locked it, before checking the others. When he was certain everything was secure and accounted for, he hauled each into the Gantrithor, which was not an easy feat, given each chest’s impressive weight. Filling the hole was mercifully easier than excavating it had been as he pushed the piled earth back into place with several blasts of wind, before packing it down.
Grif smiled to himself as he told Circlet to get them back to Unity as fast as she could, before turning back to the chests. He ignored the inertia from the ship as he searched the chests again, before retrieving a single small jade bottle. An apple had been carefully etched on the outside. He chuckled as he stowed it inside his armor. Now he had a perfect wedding present.
It was a day like any other at the Apple family farm. In other words, it was chaotic as Gryphons and ponies alike raced to and fro to decorate for the wedding. The pig pen had been properly mucked, and the hogs and sows washed with bow ties and straw hats included for each respectively. The barn had been decorated with gold-trimmed yellow ribbon accented by flowers at each of the hanging points. Applebloom’s contribution to the event had been a carefully constructed platform for the bride and groom, along with a proper altar crafted from some wooden crates, and draped over with one of the finest tablecloths Granny Smith could muster. From far and wide, wagons and carts alike flowed in, each laden with gifts and extended family as more and more Apples flooded back to their ancestral home. Even the Oranges had seen fit to set aside enough time for their Nephew’s special day.
A separate space had been set up near the barn, where Fiddlesticks and a few of the more musically inclined Apples had gotten together to practice their numbers for the hoedown to follow the wedding nuptials. Big Mac was busy hyperventilating by a water barrel, where Tall Oak dutifully dunked the stallion’s head under each time he got too nervous to be coherent. Naturally, this drew quite a few chuckles from the family, but it was to be expected with such a momentous occasion. Even the princesses themselves were to make an appearance, if word from the noble grapevine could be trusted, and though the apple trees were bare of leaves, they had been replaced with glowing lanterns that hung from the branches in every color of the rainbow. As an added bonus, the Gryphons had taken one of the stormstone cores Daedalus had given them as a boon, and connected it to a stream of lights, which they’d had strung up throughout the clearing outside the barn to light up the space at night, and to offer that proper romantic touch.
As a tip of the hat to Little Willow, jars of healing herbs had been set up as centerpieces on each of the tables inside the barn, and the Gryphons had brought in sets of armor and shields as decorative pieces to hang beneath the light posts, and form a perimeter of sorts in the shape of a large apple, while also including sets of Pony armor for the interior of the barn itself.
“Well now, this is a sight,” Grif said as he landed on the acres. He wore his finest dress armor, what had been lovingly polished to a mirror shine. However, as a precaution and a service to his younger sister, he had decided to carry only his hidden weapons. “Your family truly works miracles, Ma’am,” Grif said with a nod of respect to Granny Smith.
Granny cackled cheerfully. “Well, what’d you expect? We’re about to grow the family. Of course we’re gonna do it right.” She laughed again. “Besides,” she said with a wink, “you could call this payback for all that woodwork you did for Mac when he was laid up.”
“After everything that's been happening, this seems like a good omen,” Grif noted. “I think everyone needed this.”
“It’s been awhile since we had a good old fashioned party, hasn’t it?” Granny smiled as she watched the blur of motion that was Pinkie Pie busily setting the tables and platters, while snitching cupcakes and various other baked goods to fuel her party frenzy. “Pinkie’s sure excited for it.”
“This will be good for Willow. The only time she’s spent any extensive time around other Ponies was during the war. You and your family have welcomed her with open hooves. I appreciate that.”
“The way Big Mack flirted with her? How could we not?” Granny chuckled. “I ain’t seen him that worked up since the girls spiked his punch on Hearts and Hooves Day.”
“I only met Apple Core once or twice during the war, but from what I remember, Mac is a lot like him. I wonder just how much like him he might be.” Grif chuckled. “If he is as much like him as I believe, I think he’ll find my gift very interesting indeed.”
“Sounds like somebody’s got a surprise planned,” Granny said with a smile. “You seen the bride yet?”
“No. I was away last night. By the time I got in, she was already off to get prepared at the spa. You know how Rarity is. She had to make sure she was perfect. Should make things interesting when Rarity finds out Willow’s not wearing a gown.”
“That so?” Granny asked. “And what’s she gonna wear, then?”
“Armor.” Grif Shrugged. “Willow served in the Third Gryphon War as a medic and a warrior. By our customs, this means she can choose to wear her armor, instead of a gown. I hope that’s okay with you?”
“Don’t see why not. It’s her wedding, after all,” Granny pointed out.
“We also have a little something for Big Mac, if he so chooses, but I figure I’ll let Oak dunk him a few more times.” Grif chuckled.
“Can you blame him?”
“Mac or Oak?”
“. . . Yes.”
“Well, I’ve been in Mac’s shoes twice now,” Grif noted with a shrug. “It’s frightening, but when you see that face, then you know it’s worth it. As for Oak, he still thinks Mac should have to bring us the tails of a hundred manticores or something, so it’s cathartic for him.”
“Did Ponies really have to do that back in the day, or is that just him being the father figure to scare Mac?”
“I don’t know about Ponies, but with Gryphons, it was expected of the groom to pay in either money or blood. It’s not a custom I personally respected, but Oak’s earned the right to be a little protective, I think.”
“That, and he likes pushing people around a little.” Granny chuckled. “Boys will be boys.”
“So how many bits have you all spent on everything so far?” Grif asked. “And don’t start trying to downplay it, Ma’am. The bride’s family pays.”
Granny just cackled, then made a zipping motion with her hooves. For added effect, an actual zipper appeared as she pulled it shut, and she smirked as a flash of scales and a familiar tail tuft disappeared behind a tree. “Fine then. I suppose you’ll just have to take all of this, and settle it there.” Grif chuckled as he dropped a very large sack of bits in front of Granny Smith. “See you later, Ma’am.” Before Granny could react, he was already halfway gone in Mac’s direction.
Granny promptly unzipped her lips, and kicked some dust up. “Consarn it, we were that close,” she said.
“Oh, don’t worry yourself about it so much, Granny. Grif does that to everyone he meets. I think Hammer Strike is having a rather unhealthy influence on him,” Discord said. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a Fluttershy to escort, a suit to air out, a ravenous starch-eating bowtie to catch, and an expandable cumberbun to inflate, and don’t even get me started on my slacks. Honestly, I don’t know where they got such a lazy streak from.” He sighed dramatically. “So much to do, so little time. Ta ta,” he sang as he disappeared in a flash of white light.
Big Mac gasped again as Tall Oak pulled him up from his twelfth dunk into the water barrel. His eyes were wide, and he couldn’t help but cough as he struggled to get the life-giving substance that was air into his lungs. His wet coat and mane glistened in the afternoon light as he braced his hooves over the edges of the barrel, and looked at himself in the mirror Rarity had been kind enough to offer to aid in the groom’s preparations.
“You calm yet, Mac?” Tall Oak asked.
Big Mac’s legs were shaking as he shook the water from his mane, scattering it everywhere. “Nnnnope,” he said as he shook his big head.
Before Tall Oak could dunk him again, a familiar voice spoke up. “That's enough, Oak. I think Willow would skin us both, if you drowned him today.”
Oak sighed, and let Mac go, grumbling to himself.
“So, Mac, why, might I ask, are you so over-the-top nervous about today?” Grif asked him.
“You know,” Big Mac said as he locked eyes with the clan leader. Not much more needed to be said as they engaged in the wordless conversation the three had come to use so often in their time together.
“Perhaps this is not an event for Big Macintosh.” Grif signaled to someone unseen. “Perhaps it would be best suited for one Sir McBiggun?”
Pensword carried a familiar set of armor and a helmet on his back as he came around the corner of the barn. His wings had been spread out on either side to help support and carry the extra weight. “Uh . . . okay, not going to even pretend that made any sense.”
Big Mac blushed at the armor, but, despite himself, he still couldn’t help examining it. He tapped the metal, tested the shield and greatsword. They’d even gone so far as to include a spiraling attachment to synthesize the Unicorn horn from his fantasy, though this ornament would prove a deadly weapon of last resort, should he be stripped of his other defenses. Indeed, it appeared to be an exact replica from his character’s design in Ogres and Oubliettes. “How. . .?”
“Money.” Grif chuckled. “How else?” With some display of effort, Grif unsheathed the greatsword, and held it. “Kneel.”
Big Mac’s blush increased, but he did as instructed.
“You may not be a warrior in skill, but you are in heart. For love to your family, loyalty to your town, and honor to your princesses, I dub you. Rise a knight of Equestria, first of the Order of the Apple. Rise, Sir Big Macintosh!”
“Does Willow know?” Big Mac asked as he rose to his hooves again, and took the armor. What had been so heavy for Pensword proved incredibly light for the giant stallion.
“No, and you will not reveal who raised you to this position to her or to anyone else. Let the questioners be settled knowing the person had the authority to do so. This is an honor for you, Big Macintosh, and not because I am your brother-in-law-to-be.”
“Apple Core would be proud of you.” Pensword muttered. “And I am not just saying that. He would be proud of what he sired from so long ago. You got a bit of Blue Vase’s smarts as well, even if you don’t always share them.” He paused. “In fact, I see her stubbornness in all of you.”
“I thought you said this’d be as McBiggun,” Big Mac said with a playful smirk.
“While changing your name is well within my power, I don’t think your grandmother would let me hear the end of it, but best to keep in mind the right is there for the future.” Grif gave him a wink. “So be a good stallion to my sister.”
“Dunno if this’ll work, but you know I’ll do my best for her,” Big Mac swore. “Just . . . gotta beat these jitters first.”
“Big Mac, a little advice from someone who’s been in your place twice so far, and has yet one more to deal with. You won’t beat these jitters, until you look her in the eye at the altar. This is how you know it’s love. This is how you know it’s real.”
“How’d ya deal?” he asked.
“I put on my best war face, and prayed it convinced people.” Grif chuckled as he turned the sword blade down, and impaled the ground. “I trust you, Big Mac. Willow trusts you. By Sleipnir's blazing saddle, you kept this family going since you were a colt! You’re more than ready to start this journey. And if you find yourself needing help, New Unity’s just a few hours away.”
“Oak?” Big Mac asked as he turned to his other brother-in-law-to-be. The question was half worried, half reproving.
Oak considered Mac for a minute with an unreadable expression. Then he saw Grif’s glare over Big Mac’s shoulder, and sighed, before smiling. “You take all the fun out of this, Grif. But yeah, Mac. You’ll do alright by Willow.”
Big Mac chuckled. “Just wait till your wedding.”
“Well now, let's get you dressed, Mac. You're the star. Come on, it’s your wedding day!” Grif grabbed the chest piece, and moved to help the stallion get outfitted.
Big Mac shook his head. “Nnnnope,” he said. “Willow’s the star.” Then he chuckled as he took the buckles, and let Grif and Oak work on getting him ready.
The time for the ceremony came quickly. Mayor Mare stood at the altar wearing an old official-looking robe. Big mac stood in front of her in his armor with Braeburn, Grif, and Spike lined up in order behind him. On the left, the Apple family filled the seats to near-bursting as Apples from all over Equestria anticipated the coming ceremony. On the other end, a mix of Ponies and Gryphons sat or stood at attention, many wearing polished ceremonial armor or starched uniforms. The bridal march played to the strange sound of the fiddle, banjo, water jug, and other such instruments.
What surprised all the guests was what came next. Pensword walked forward, leading two lines of Demon Slayers. They marched in unison as they walked down the aisle. As they marched, the two guards in the rear stopped, and turned to face each other. Animal Control used her magic to pull out a ceremonial sword, while Clean Whistle did the same to create an arch overhead. This pattern continued as each pair of soldiers lined up, and extended their swords, until Night Prism and Lighting Dust ended it. This left Pensword standing alone on the bride’s side of the aisle by the altar. He pulled his own officer sword from his scabbard, and raised it above his head. It was then that Little Willow emerged through the barn doors, and began her march down the aisle under the arch of swords. When she first saw Big Mac in his armor, she nearly spilled over the dirt floor. Were it not for the quick actions of her brother, she would have. Tall Oak chuckled as he picked his sister up, dusted off her dress, and motioned towards the groom.
Having managed to regain her composure, Willow resumed her march down the aisle in a slow, practiced step, with her brother at her side as Gilda followed behind, proudly displaying her new polished axes at either side. Applejack and Rarity trailed behind them, looking somewhat out of place in their gowns. In short order, they arrived at the altar, where Tall oak nuzzled his sister gently, and then took his place behind her as Willow took her place across the aisle from Big Mac. When all had taken up their positions, the Demon Slayers sheathed their swords in a single fluid motion.
“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today. . ..” Mayor mare began. She wasn’t a priestess, so her speech wasn’t particularly based on faith or belief, but on love. She spoke about the love the two shared, and the way it had affected the community. She made mention of Little Willow’s service, and the Ponies whose lives she’d saved. Mayor Mare continued as she spoke of Big Mac, and his love for growing plants and nurturing life. Then she spoke about how these two lovers’ talents came together to truly represent the nurturing healing nature of love. When she asked who would give Willow away, Tall Oak stood spoke the words. And, although he’d never admit it, Grif could see the tears in the stallion’s eyes as he did. “And so, do you, Big Macintosh Apple take Little Willow to be your mare, to care for her, and look after her as long as you both shall live?”
Big Mac looked at Little Willow with a loving smile. “Eeeyup.”
“And do you, Little Willow, take Big Macintosh Apple to be your colt, to care for him, and look after him as long as you both shall live?”
Little Willow smiled back at Big Macintosh, and, in her best impersonation, went, “Eeeyup,” causing small bits of laughter to emanate from the audience.
“Then by the power vested in me by Princess Twilight, and the duchy of Ponyville, I now pronounce you mare and colt. You may kiss the bride!” However, before Mac got the chance, Willow kissed him. The crowd stomped and hollered in approval. Several Ponies and Gryphons on the bride’s side saluted happily. The Gryphon slayers in the aisle drew their sabers again, this time as both Big Mac and Little Willow Apple moved happily down the aisle.
Grif smiled as he watched the couple walking away. He almost didn’t notice the tap on his shoulder in all the happiness, but he did, and so he turned to see Tall Oak. The large stallion pulled the Gryphon out of the crowd, and behind the altar.
“Grif, I know we haven’t spoken a lot lately, and I know I don’t say it enough, but with what happened during the war, and what happened that day we met, I. . ..” Oak looked at him again, this time with eyes made glassy with tears. “I’d given us up, Grif. I was making my peace with Faust, and then you gave us our life back. I never thought we’d be alive to see a day like this, and here we are.” In a very uncharacteristic display, Oak grabbed Grif in his forehooves, and hugged him, which would be sweet, if Tall Oak wasn’t strong enough to lift a fallen oak in his bare hooves. “Thank you.”
“Oak . . . air,” Grif managed to gasp. The stallion finally seemed to realize the issue, and quickly loosened up. Grif coughed a bit, caught his breath, then returned the embrace. “Any time, big guy.” Releasing the hug, the two brothers watched as their sister, and her new husband, were led away by the crowd. “Any time.”
With the wedding finished, all that remained were the festivities. Since the crowd of the Apples and extended family were too large for the barn to hold, extra seating and catering had been set up in the field near the red barn. Fiddlesticks and others played lively country songs as Ponies danced, while the two newlyweds remained at the center of the dance floor, bereft of armor and wedding gown. The two were there to enjoy themselves without the interference of formality. In short, it was time to cut loose, and have some fun.
Pensword had just finished a dance with Fox Feather as he took a breather near some of the punch bowls and cupcake platters. He caught sight of Grif, and waved a wing to him as he watched Little Willow and Big Mac dance. “It is strange, seeing her get married. Before you know it, the rest of the Demon Slayers will marry, most likely to one of my Gryphon sons.” He sighed. “So how does it feel having a direct relation to the Apple clan?”
Grif chuckled. “I imagine it’ll get Filthy Rich offering them a fairer deal on zap apple jam every year, and make cider season more orderly.”
“Well, we will see, but that sounds good.”
“I think everybody needed this,” Grif said. “Finally, some happiness to start cutting through the gloom.”
“Agreed,” Pensword replied. “So, next up is. . ..” He trailed off. “Grif, this is the season for weddings, isn’t it?”
“Yeah. Tomorrow, I’m headed to canterlot with Rarity to work on the venue.” Grif chuckled. “Apparently, doing the wedding stuff Hammer Strike’s not good at is part of my duties now.”
“Well, you still are somewhat a part of House Strike. Wait, does that mean that Clan Bladefeather could be called in for favors by House Strike?”
“That shouldn’t be a surprise to you,” Grif noted. “I did give him my oath.”
“True, just as my oath is to Equestria.” His eye twitched. “And the US,” he muttered in Draconic.
“Let's hope we never have to worry about these oaths being called at the same time for opposing purposes, then.”
“That would be a very, very horrible pear shape, let alone if both oaths of mine are called at once on opposite sides.” He frowned. “There wouldn’t be enough Dwarven ale to make that headache go away.”
“Anyway, the Apples know how to celebrate, huh? I think Fox Feather’s been enjoying the free cider. The Apple family's good stuff, too, if I’m not mistaken.” Grif chuckled as he looked to the mare, who smiled just a bit too widely.
“I worry about her liver,” Pensword replied. “But yes, they know how to party. Oh, look, I think I saw Hammer Strike’s left leg twitch to the music,” he replied with a smirk.
“Heh, so are you feeling better about the emperor's wedding, then?” Grif asked.
“No,” Pensword answered. “This is. . .. Grif, last time was what I hoped to be the only time. You saw the orders. I was to be delivered alive to the Emperor for his table. So, a wedding, with some Gryphoness that can see the future? It’s freaking me out.”
“Well then, I’m not sure how you’ll react to this. It just came in yesterday from my secure line,” he said, offering Pensword a piece of folded parchment.
“Oh boy. I don’t like the sounds of this,” Pensword muttered as he steeled himself, before opening the parchment to read.
“It’s a statement of turnover. It came with a deed, a key, and several dozen banknotes to be split between you, myself, and Prince Bellacosa,” Grif summarized. “The entire estate of Grask Bloodbeak, and the Bloodbeak clan, has been seized by the government, and awarded to us for saving the emperor. We need to inspect the estate, before it can be officially sold.”
“Oh my,” Pensword muttered. “It can never be easy, can it?”
“It’s a valuable piece of property. It should go for an estimated twenty million beaks,” Grif noted, “a third of that would be a good start to the military funding.”
“Oh.” Pensword’s eyes lit up, and a smile grew. “I’m starting to like this, at least a little more,” he replied as his tail swished excitedly.
“I figured we could leave a couple of days early, and stop at the estate, before going to the wedding. We can survey the grounds, and see if there’s anything worth saving.”
“Sounds good. Might be good to see, and I doubt it will be intact. Sieges can happen, and I don’t know. A good survey sounds good.”
“This isn’t the house in Gryphelheim,” Grif noted. “This is the clan compound.”
“Oh dear,” Pensword muttered. “That will take time to go through.”
“Fortunately, he was the last of his clan, which had been dieing out for a while. We may need to free some servants of their oaths, but we shouldn’t have to deal with any family who would disagree with this choice.”
“I’ll make sure we have berths ready, and diplomatic passes, if any decide to follow the Avatar to the ends of the winds,” Pensword muttered. “You gather Gryphons like sugar attracts ants.”
“Speaking of which, how are Kahn and the others adjusting?” Grif shot back with a grin. “Anyway, I believe I need to find my girls, and take care of the twins for a bit. You keep enjoying yourself.”
Pensword flapped his wings, and hovered in front of Grif. “Oh no. You asked, and I am going to answer. Kahn and his siblings are doing well. They are following their old man’s words well, and right now, they and the Demon Slayers are acting more like siblings, though Javier and Moon Kicker are … well, I most likely will be holding a wedding soon.”
“Yeah? Well that should definitely be fun, then.” Grif smirked, and winked at his old friend. “Talk to you later, Pensword,” he said with a wave, before walking away.
“See you later … I think. Ooh, are those pastries?”
Seeing that the newlyweds had made their way off the dance floor, Grif decided to steal a few minutes with them. He had a gift to deliver, after all.
“Well now, Willow, did you wear Big Mac’s shoes off already?” Grif chuckled.
“Oh, shut up, Grif. It would take more than me to wear Big Mac out.” Willow chuckled.
“Be that as it may, I have a little something that might catch Big Mac’s interest here,” he said as he retrieved the jade bottle from his neck.
“Somebody say my name?” Big Mac asked as he returned bearing a glass of punch for Willow.
“Big mac, your family brags they can grow any apple. You believe that?” Grif asked.
“Eeyup.”
“Even a type of apple that's been extinct for over a thousand years, and barely anyone heard of before that?”
“Eeyup.”
Grif showed him the bottle. “On one of my raids during the Third Gryphon War, we raided a forward camp. Amongst their captives was an old stallion who claimed to be the last living resident from a town called Appleseed. It wasn’t a big town, but they grew these strange apples. He claimed they were bright blue, and tasted sweeter than honey. Now I have no idea, having never seen these apples, but, before he passed on, he gave me these seeds. Now I give them to you two. A new apple for a new adventure,” he said as he handed the bottle over.
Big mac opened the bottle, shook out a couple of the seeds, sniffed them, then nodded as he replaced them in the bottle again. “We can work with ‘em.”
“I hope so, because I gave a couple to Apple Core, and he couldn’t get them to sprout,” Grif told him. “So let’s see if you can do better.”
“Eeyup.” Big Mac nodded as he hung the bottle around his neck. Then he smiled as he put a foreleg over Little Willow’s side. “Thanks, Grif. For everything.”
“My pleasure. You two lovebirds behave,” he chuckled. “I’ve got to go help with the kids, before Shrial stabs me.” On that note, Grif took his leave, whistling happily all the while.
“So,” Willow smirked as she looked to her husband, “are you ready for tonight, hon?”
Big Mac stared pensively in the distance for a time, just taking in the colors of the sunset as the winds blew over the orchard. “Maybe?” he finally said with a heavy blush.
Little Willow laughed as she kissed him on the muzzle. “Oh, Big Mac, that’s why I love you so much.”
“Careful with that double set, darling,” Rarity warned the porter as he strained to haul the pair of suitcases that were easily twice his size into the luggage compartment, and that was only the beginning of the veritable mountain of supplies the mare had packed. The poor stallion had already been promised a week’s leave with double pay for his troubles, and to have any medical expenses that might result from his exertions covered. “Those materials will be absolutely essential, if I’m going to get this wedding reception properly decorated.”
Pensword looked on with a hint of a smile. “Now I know what needs upgrading for military shipments to be made easier for the porters here.”
“At least she’s not making me carry it all,” Grif said. “I just hope we find equally willing ponies in Canterlot.”
“Come on, Grif. I think we both know she’s going to flirt the guards into helping her, and you’re going to wish you’d attached a camera to capture the whole thing,” Vital said with a knowing smirk.
“I would like that.” Pensword chuckled. “Then I can have evidence for retraining.” Then he dropped the smile for a hard frown. “Flirting should not be a weakness,” he groused.
“I understand the military is your job and all, Pensword, but can’t you lighten up just for the wedding? It’s supposed to be a happy occasion, especially this one. I mean, come on, it’s Hammer Strike we’re talking about,” Vital Spark said.
“Last time we had a wedding in Canterlot, Changelings invaded us. Plus, the royal guards for the Queen of England, back on earth, wouldn’t fall to flirting, not even from a Princess,” Pensword growled. “They’ll see the wedding, yes, but. . ..” He sighed. “I just want the guard to be better. They guard the princesses. They are the literal visual stamp for the military. That is what everypony thinks of when we say the word. Guards in flimsy armor that–.” He stopped. “My words would not be good for your ears, Vital. The point is that we need them to change, to be more than a flashy show. They should be the pinnacle of fighting efficiency, not just the image. It’s something to aim towards. Besides, we need to do a better job protecting the princesses.”
“Yeah. Well, for now, I should be able to keep her safe, Pensword. It’s not like anyone who’s going to send an assassin will get a leg up on me.” Grif chuckled.
“You know, he does have a point,” Vital said. “How many assassins was it you mentioned taking out in one night again, Grif?”
“I lost count.” Grif shrugged.
“My point exactly.” Vital smiled. “It’ll be okay, Pensword.”
“Besides,” Rarity pointed out. “Haven’t you forgotten about me, darling?” she asked as she drew Seam Ripper from its sheath. “This isn’t just for show, you know.”
“Maybe, Rarity, but you’re hardly ready for highly trained assassins yet,” Grif chuckled.
“You’re forgetting one thing, darling,” she said.
“Oh, and what’s that?” Grif retorted.
“This is my wedding day, and if anybody gets in the way of my perfect day with my Strikey Wikey, there will be Tartarus to pay,” she growled as her visage darkened. Then she brightened up with a smile. “Just wanted to make that clear for any spies that might be listening,” she sang as two suspicious clouds zipped out of sight, and one of the passengers dropped her coin purse.
“Well, I don’t like the idea of you commandeering the guards for your luggage. Go steal from Blueblood’s staff, or other nobles, if you need to. Make it seem like they are getting the good deal, which they most likely are not.”
“Pensword, those people suffer enough as is. I wouldn’t dare expose them to the pains of taking my luggage. No, I’ll use the usual services, and then I’ll pay someone accordingly to get my things to my quarters. You needn’t worry about a thing,” she promised as she pat his cheek gently.
“Sorry. Sorry. It’s just the bill will probably be ready for presentation and voting after the holidays. I am, that is to say, we, Matthew and I, are still worried, because of that. The more stubborn nobles are going to use every excuse they can to hobble it from the start.” He sighed. “Don’t mind me. I’m just a thousand-year-old grump who wants his old world back in some little way.”
“You just have to look to your wife and your clan for that,” Vital Spark noted. “And us.”
It was at that moment that Hammer Strike arrived, and made his way towards the group with the Shield brothers in tow. “Sorry about that. The staff needed some questions answered immediately. Thankfully, I’m not late.”
“Darling, I know you’d never be late, even if the world were coming to an end,” Rarity said with starry eyes as she advanced on Hammer Strike, and kissed him.
He gave a small smile. “I just wish it took less time to get all that finished. I mean, the train’s leaving soon.”
“Call this a sample, then,” Rarity said with a naughty smirk. “We’ll have all the time in the world during our honeymoon.”
“Can’t wait.” Hammer Strike chuckled.
“Good. I think you’ll enjoy what I have planned. Until then, Darling, it seems I have to get going. Promise to write while I’m gone?”
“I can promise you that.”
“You’d better,” she said with a giggle. “Otherwise, I might have to hunt you down myself, and leave the last touches to somepony else. You know how cross that makes me,” she said with a flirtatious wink as she stepped onto the cab, and opened one of the windows to wave as the engine started up. “Goodbye, everypony! I’ll see you in a couple of weeks!”
“Or sooner, Winds permitting,” Grif added as he joined her, taking the seat opposite her, and pulling out a magazine for some casual reading.
“Bye, Rarity! Good luck!” Vital Spark cheered as the train began to chuff out the station. Suddenly, the rest of the element bearers appeared in a flash of magic as Twilight hovered a massive farewell banner, and the rest of the girls cheered, while Rainbow Dash streaked up to the window to hoof-bump with Rarity.
“We’ll see ya next week for the bachelorette party,” she said with a wink, before flying back to join her friends on the platform. All in all, it was a very nice send off, and just a taste of the events that were yet to come.
“So, Vital,” Pensword said as they sat in his office barely thirty minutes later. “You got the Bachelor party set for Hammer Strike?”
“Pensword, I haven’t even been able to find him a proper gift yet,” Vital said as he deadpanned. “How am I supposed to plan out an entire bachelor party, especially when you and I both know I was never raised with that particular part of human culture? A fun night for Hammer Strike is either taking out a legion of assassins, facing off against someone who might, just might have a chance of posing a challenge, or having a quiet night to just be to himself as he works on a project. And it’s not like we can do a kegger, even if I knew how to do that sort of party, since he literally burns through alcohol before it can so much as register a buzz in his system.”
“What about Shawn? You remember him better. Maybe you are thinking too big. Maybe think like a stag party. Close friends hitting the town, just goofing, teasing, and being downright fools. You said Hammer Strike. Why not throw a party for Shawn?”
“You mean reserve the whole arcade and carnival block for us to just nerd out at?”
“I think, if you ask for the money from Hammer Strike, that it would work. But if we are nerding out, Button Mash should definitely be there for the start. I think he and Shawn bonded over one of the hoof held games.”
“I thought Taze was the one who bonded over video games.” He shrugged. “You’d need to get permission from his parents for him to go with us, and to stay up past his bedtime. He is still a young foal, after all.”
Pensword looked at Vital. “Well, you are in charge. What’s your next move?”
Vital Spark groaned. “Why did you guys put me in charge of this again?”
“Because you have the lightest plate of us here,” Pensword answered. “And, frankly, because it’s good training.” He bore his fangs in a toothy grin. “I also happen to love it when cadets squirm.”
“Of course you do. Of flipping course you do,” Vital grumbled. “Okay, give me a bit to work off some of this frustration you just heaped on me. Then I’ll have some letters for you to send to the establishments, along with the corresponding bits. I’ll need a registry of all the gaming businesses in Canterlot as well. Is Preston free to help me?”
“Preston!” Pensword yelled. “Really need an intercom,” he mumbled. Preston entered a few moments later. “Can you get one of Me-Me’s children’s to help Vital here with some items? He asked for you, so he got bold. Still, you can help there, right?”
Preston nodded. “The message has already been sent.” He paused as his eyes flashed. “And, apparently, responded to. Vital, you will work with one of the up-and-coming visible hive members for Canterlot during the wedding. She is one of our best for organization, as well as investigation. Me-Me wishes this event to be the best of the best for Hammer Strike, as thanks for all he’s done for the hive.”
Vital Spark nodded. “Please send Me-Me my thanks. Would you happen to have a communication crystal I can use to make contact with her? I assume she’s already stationed in Canterlot, correct?”
Preston laughed as the maid that he said hello to every morning walked into the room. She fluttered her wings. “Why would I be in Canterlot, when you need my help here? Besides, I can contact our representatives in Canterlot from here anyway, so it’ll be an easy matter to make the arrangements.” She grinned. “So how can I be of service?”
Vital Spark chuckled. “Well, my bad on that guess. I guess we should start off with the most important thing.”
“What’s that?” she asked as she cocked her head.
“What’s your name? You never told me.”
She giggled. “Call me Wasp.”
“Wasp, huh?” Vital chuckled again. “I like it. Well, Wasp, I think we should leave these gentlecolts to get back to their work. We have some planning to do, and reservations to make.” He turned, and nodded to the other two. “Pensword, Preston. It’s been a pleasure, as always.” He bowed the once with a playful smile, and then walked out with Wasp in tow.
“That is, by far, one of the most cheerful Ponies I have ever encountered,” Preston observed. “How does he manage it?”
“I honestly don’t know. Some days, I think he could give Pinkie Pie a run for her money for cheerfulness. Though I hope Wasp can handle his . . . childlike nature.” He paused. “Childlike in a good way, mind you.”
“Of course, Sir.” Preston couldn’t help but chuckle. “Childlike in the fact he’s oblivious to certain mares’ attraction to him? And . . . Sir, do I detect a bit of romantic love stirring for your mate?”
Pensword cleared his throat, and blushed. “That will be all, Preston,” he said firmly. “I have a few more letters to finish, and another recompile for the camps on the bill, before I retire to my quarters.”
“Yes, Sir. Was there anything else you needed me to get for you, perhaps a meal sent up from the kitchens? I know how you can get when you immerse yourself in work.”
“That would be good, Preston. Thank you. Tell Me-Me thank you again, won't you? You have been a lifesaver helping keep things running. Your service truly is one of the most valuable commodities I have in this office.”
Preston’s smile widened. “Thank you, Sir. Knowing that we’re fulfilling a purpose, it’s the greatest gift a drone like me could have, second to a large supply of love, of course.” He chuckled as he made his way to the door. “Good luck, Sir.”
“Thank you, Preston.” As the door shut, Pensword sighed to himself. He had to get this work finished as soon as possible. Moon River didn’t like it when he was late. And besides that, he had to make sure to get ahead far enough to make time for the wedding. He chuckled. “Best get to work.” And with that, he opened the folders to the official copies of the draft for what felt like the hundredth time to review the contents. Everything had to be perfect.
“So, will this do?” Grif asked Rarity as they stood outside the house he’d just purchased in Canterlot. It wasn’t quite the mansion most nobles had, but the three-story Victorian style house was in a convenient location with a large, but tractable yard, a basement, several bedrooms, three bathrooms, a large dining hall, and a fully stocked kitchen. “I figure between the wedding and the bill, we’re going to be spending a lot of time in Canterlot in the next few months, so it made more economical sense to buy a house than rent a hotel.” He paused a moment as he realized the full weight of those words. “Oh, Winds, I can’t believe I just said that.”
“I won’t tell Hammer Strike, if you won’t,” Rarity promised.
Grif chuckled nervously. “Anyway, I figure we can work out of here. It’s large enough that no one will be curious about it, but small enough that I can get to anywhere in the house in five seconds. We aren't staffing it right now, but I can cook, and I think you can clean after yourself. You don’t need a maid right now, right?”
“Grif, who do you think taught Sweetie Belle how to clean in the first place?” Rarity asked skeptically.
“Rarity, you publicly talk about your fantasies of the Canterlot high life. I hate to break it to you, but that’s the Canterlot high life: pay someone to clean up after you, cook for you, and, in some very real cases, dress you. Honestly, I think marrying Hammer Strike was the best option you could have taken.”
“I rather figured that out after Blueblood, Grif,” Rarity pointed out. “There aren’t many stallions like Fancy Pants lying around the courts, you know.” She sighed, and smiled dreamily. “I just happened to get the cream of the crop.”
“Anyway, let’s unload our stuff, and then you can decide if we’re going to needlessly go around Canterlot looking at venues that ‘aren’t quite right.’” Rarity found it particularly eerie that Grifs impression of her voice was so spot on. “Or we can just head to the castle, and check with Celestia when the throne room is free.”
“Why, Grif, I’m surprised.” Rarity widened her eyes dramatically, then smirked. “You actually didn’t call her Sunbutt, for once.”
“I’m on the clock, Rarity. No mercenary loses decorum on the clock, unless it’s paid for,” Grif explained.
“I thought you were being paid,” she pointed out as she levitated her bags in her magical grip, and began floating them through the door to lay neatly next to the staircase.
“Not to torture Celestia with nicknames that would get anyone else fried. Hammer Strike told me to be polite, unless the situation called for it. ‘Be polite, be efficient, and have a plan to kill every single person we meet.’ Those were his exact words.”
“And that’s why I love him so much. He cares about me enough to have a backup plan, should I not be able to defend myself. What a gentlecolt,” she swooned.
“You realize your perfect day is going to be the number one opportunity for terrorists, assassination attempts, and other very nasty things that happen during big events, right?” Grif asked.
“And do you realize the hell Princess Platinum unleashed on her courtiers alone for ruining any number of her events? I’m smarter, more imaginative, innovative, and, when I want something, you’ve seen I always get it, Grif. The term, hell hath no fury doesn’t even begin to describe what I’d do to anyone who interferes with my perfect day.”
“Smarter, yes. You’re comparing yourself to someone who willingly provoked Luna on their first meeting. There are elder gods who wouldn’t commit such an error, but keep in mind she had several Unicorns bordering on god tier backing her, not the least of which being her own father, and Star Swirl the Bearded. Rarity, you're a good student. You're getting very good with your blade, but please remember that a lot of what's going to be sent after you are people who learned how to eviscerate people before they could walk. Don’t take any unnecessary chances. Seam Ripper should be your last resort, unless I say otherwise.”
“Who said anything about me using Seam ripper?” Rarity asked sweetly. Were it anypony other than Grif, a shudder would likely have passed through their spines as they saw the cold calculating behind those sapphire eyes.
Instead, she looked into a colder, more calculated abyss full of experience and knowledge about death, how to dispense it, and how to hold it at bay. “No unnecessary risks,” he told her in a cold, flat tone that brooked no argument.
“Cross my heart, and hope to fly, stick a cupcake in my eye,” Rarity recited solemnly as she performed the accompanying motions.
“Good,” Grif said as he snapped back to his lighter self. “So, after we get things set up with Celestia, what’s your plan for catering? I know you planned to use the Ponyville girls for flowers, but you never mentioned food,” the Gryphon noted as they entered the house.
“I called in some specialists from around the world, darling. I asked them to prepare two spreads: one for the guests, and one catered specifically to Hammer Strike and Haymin’s palates.”
“You did account for those of us who eat meat and fish, I take it?” grif asked.
“Naturally. I did say around the world, after all,” she said with a wink as they settled into the rather large living room. “I’ve got Kitsune, Gryphons, Kirins, Ponies, Horses, Minotaurs, Zebras, just about anything you can name. After all, Hammer Strike has saved someone important from just about every one of their countries at one point or another. They were only too happy to volunteer for the job. Though I am going to have to talk to several restaurant owners,” she mused.
“How come?”
“With the number of people we’ll be feeding, the castle kitchens simply won’t be enough to supply them all. We’re going to have to buy up whole streets to make enough room.”
Grif groaned. “We’re going to be running around all day, aren’t we?”
“Get used to it, darling. We’re only just getting started,” Rarity said with a wicked little smirk as she sashayed out of the room, and made her way up the stairs with her luggage.
Hammer Strike hummed to himself as he tapped gently at his engraving tool. The golden band beneath his tools rested on the end of the anvil, slowly being rotated as he tried to draw a pattern onto it. While he had been careful to manage his strength, it wasn’t easy manipulating gold on a small scale, as it ended sometimes with him accidentally breaking through the material.
While he could have made the band with something more sturdy, such as silver, it would require a lot more maintenance to keep it from being tarnished. Then there was some other materials in mind, but he couldn’t help but fall back onto the classic golden ring.
“So, big day coming up, eh there, Sport?” a familiar voice asked as the old high-backed chair in the corner of the forge began to creak once again with the weight of a Pony’s body.
“So you return,” Hammer Strike replied as he stopped his tapping.
“Mama is so proud of you!” another familiar voice spoke up as a pair of hooves hugged Hammer Strike hard enough for him to feel it.
Hammer Strike put down his tools, and looked to the duo. “You’re both here?”
“Mama couldn’t stay away when her little lapushka is getting married to a beautiful mare!” Mother Nature said happily. “Although, must make sure to feed her up. She is too skinny for bearing good foals,” she tutted.
“I think it might be that you . . . nevermind. I don’t think I have any valid remark.” Hammer Strike sighed. “I still don’t know how I can see you both,” he finished, muttering softly.
“Oh, that’s easy, Sport. We let you see us. You need the guidance,” Father Time said simply.
“It’s not that easy. I know that as a fact. There’s more to it.”
“Well, we could always have the talk, but that usually doesn’t end so well. Somepony or other always screams ‘spoilers.’ What is spoilers, exactly? Is that some modern lingo you kids use?”
Hammer Strike sighed. “Nothing can be simple. Nothing can be easy. That is the way of life here. Never forget it,” he muttered to himself once again.
“Are you okay, little lapushka? Mama feels like you might be nervous,” Mother Nature offered.
“‘Course he’s nervous. He’s about to get hitched, Dear. Boy’s always looked to work with his hands when he’s nervous. Well, hooves now, I suppose,” Time mused. “He takes after you that way.”
“Aah, Papa!” Mother Nature said as she moved to kiss the stallion gently.
“I have no idea on how to feel right now about this current situation,” Hammer Strike commented.
“Well, Sport, I’ve got some advice for ya, if you’re willing to listen,” Time said.
Hammer Strike hummed curiously.
“You already know how to treat a lady right. What you need to do is figure out how to deal with when you’re going to be needed elsewhere, or perhaps it’s better to say elsewhen. To try to put it into words . . . well, Sport, you’re all over me. And someone’s already tried messing with my tools once. That brought you to then. Or was that it will bring you to then?” He chuckled. “You know, it’s funny. Sometimes, I even confuse myself.”
“I have my plans for how to get back to this point in time, and, if need be, I know how to make ways.”
“There’s something else you need to know, Sport.” Father Time said seriously. “There’s a point where I can’t see you anymore, can’t feel you, or . . . anything, really. It’s all sort of a blur.” He furrowed his brow. “I don’t like it.”
Hammer Strike hummed to himself for a moment. “Sadly, I don’t have a clue as to why.”
Mother nature rolled her eyes, and bopped father time on the head. “Time, stop this. You’re worrying the boy. He should be happy. He’s getting married!”
“As much as I enjoy this conversation, any other particular reason as to why you two are stopping by? So far, it’s only been when something bad happened, is happening, or will happen.”
“Isn’t that just about every other week in this world?” Time asked pointedly as he peered down his nose over a newspaper.
“No. Every week. It’s just that sometimes, it’s not here, nor does it require my attention.”
“Well, no fire this time, Sport. We’re just here to be social,” he promised.
“That’s . . . rare.”
“Well, you are marrying a Pony named Rarity.”
Hammer Strike stared blankly, before slowly turning back towards the wedding bands.
“Come, Papa. We should go,” Mother Nature said after a few minutes. “We can annoy him later.”
“Guess the poor little guy’s got enough to worry about the next couple of weeks anyways,” Time conceded. “Shall we visit the Heavies now, dear? I’m certain they’ve missed you.”
“Da.” She nodded. “Time to make sure Momma’s babies aren't starving to death,” Mother Nature said as she marched dutifully out the door. Father time chuckled as his voice faded to echoes, and then silence, leaving Hammer Strike to continue his work in peace.
. . .
At least, he would have had it not been for a very light hoof tapping at his doorway. A loud gulp sounded, followed by a rather timid sounding male voice.
“Hammer Strike? Can we talk?” The accent was clearly Canadian.
“You’re free to enter, if you can stand the heat of a forge.”
The clopping of hooves let Hammer Strike know the decision well enough as they echoed through the enclosed space. “I don’t believe we’ve had the privilege of meeting in person before.” As Hammer Strike looked up from his work, he beheld a white unicorn with a mane combed simply, albeit neatly towards the left. His bushy eyebrows and mustache added to his rugged looks, and accentuated his big blue eyes. “I’m Hondo Flanks, though most folks in the circuit call me Magnum. I’m Rarity’s father.”
“Welcome. I see you’ve returned from your latest journey to. . ..”
“Prance. We had some investments that needed checking up on, but we dropped everything to get back here as soon as we heard the news. And I just wanted to say, welcome to the family!” Hondo said as he grabbed Hammer Strike’s free hoof, and shook it enthusiastically. “Hope you don’t mind the intrusion, but you know how it is with us fathers. Got to make sure the boy’s the right one, if you know what I mean.” He winked. “So why don’t we start off by you telling me how the two of you met, eh? I want to hear all about it.”
Lighting Dust yawned as she walked off her shift, and looked around in confusion. The last few days, she had been greeted by one of the Heavies, yet they didn’t seem to be here today. After a time, she spotted one of the other mercenaries from the band, and made her way over. “Hey, uh … Doc?” she asked. Even after all this time, she still wasn’t sure whether this Unicorn could be considered a licensed healer or not. At the same time, she couldn't deny the results of his work, or that or his blue counterpart. “Have you seen the two larger ponies? They’re usually around here to share lunch with me, before we head to the range for target practice.”
“The Heavies are busy right now,” Medic said adamantly. “Something to do with the arrival of their . . . mother,” he said in his heavy German accent.
“Ah, well, I guess I should go practice wing blades on the dummies, then.” She shuddered at the manic grin that spread over Medic’s face. “And no, you can’t set any broken bones,” she said flatly as she glared him down. “I’ve heard stories around the base. Just … stay away from me.” She turned, and flicked her tail in annoyance. “Iif you do see the Heavies, tell them I’m waiting at the range.”
Medic sighed. “Of course, Lightning Dust.” Then he shook his head as he muttered under his breath. “Such a waste. And here I thought I would get the chance to isolate the means by which Pegasi like her are so fast. It would be useful in field magic application, yah?” he asked as he rubbed his chin thoughtfully.
“I heard that, and the answer is still no!” Lighting Dust shouted.
Nanami panted happily as she flopped down on the grass, after an intense sparring session with the three best friends she could ever hope to ask for. The combat robes clung tightly to her frame, but it felt good not having to use a glamour anymore to alter her voice or appearance. She finally had the freedom to be herself, even if Ping was still technically a big part of her.
The earth shuddered as Yao, Ling, and Chien-Po collapsed next to her.
“You know,” Yao growled, “you’ve gotten a lot better, since you got that sword of yours.”
“The art of the warrior states a weapon is the extension of the wielder’s being. This sword just fits better than the last one Cheng trained me with.”
“It is very beautiful,” Chien-Po noted. “And your magic interacts very well with the metal. The sacred runes and the energies you channel give you an extra advantage when dealing with harmful spells. You could well be on the edge of the formation of a new branch in combat magic.” Then his stomach rumbled, and the clearing erupted in laughter.
“You know, Chien-Po, that appetite of yours might just get you into trouble one day,” Ling said as he wiped away the mirthful tears.
Chien-Po blushed. “It is a chance I am willing to take. When I get too hungry, I tend to get cranky. You . . . wouldn’t like to see me like that.” He sighed heavily.
“Hey, cheer up,” Ling said as he laid his thin arm on his companion’s pudgy one. “How about we get you some dim sum after our tai chi, hmm?”
Chien-Po’s ears immediately perked up. “With dumplings? And perhaps some rice?”
“The works. My treat,” Ling promised.
“Deal!” Chien-Po grinned, and the others chuckled.
“You might come to regret that decision, Ling. You remember how much he had when the emperor ordered the feast for the safe escort,” Nanami said with a giggle.
“He still can’t eat more than me,” Yao said. A note of challenge played in his voice as he sneered. “I’m the king of the mountain!”
Suddenly, Yao felt two hands smacking the back of his head.
“Now don’t start that again!” they all shouted in stereo. Silence fell for all of five seconds, before the four friends burst into another bout of uncontrollable laughter. It was good to know things hadn’t changed too much, even after the revelation.
“Say, Nanami?” Ling asked as he picked up a stray piece of grass, and twirled it between his fingers.
“Yes, Ling?”
“I’ve been thinking.”
“Careful,” Yao said as he nudged his companion in the ribs. “Last time you had an idea, we had to run ten laps around the imperial compound, blindfolded.”
“Hey! It wasn’t my fault the sparks got into the powder storage. How was I supposed to know the wisps would go there?”
“Can we please get back on topic?” Nanami asked hastily, before the argument could have the opportunity to get heated.
Ling sighed. “Well, what I was trying to say was, doesn’t that mean you’re going to have to meet with a matchmaker soon? I mean, you’re of age, right? So it’s just a matter of time till one gets sent, isn’t it?”
Nanami’s eyes widened as a surge of energy caused the patch of grass around her to burst into a bright golden inferno, before dissipating to reveal a perfectly bare patch of earth with the kanji for doom repeating over and over in a repeated chain around her. “Oh, gods help me,” she said as she clenched her blade. The other three were wise enough to keep their mouths shut.
“Now then, ladies, I know there’s a proverbial white elephant you don’t want to address, but I really do think it’s about time we got around to it, don’t you?” Rarity asked demurely as she looked up to the princesses of day and night. The sun was just about to set, and the Solar Court had been adjourned for the day.
“Rarity, I really don’t know what you’re–.”
“Princess Celestia, please do be reasonable. We both know how Hammer Strike helped to raise you. That’s a fact. I am far younger than you. That is also a fact. I am marrying the stallion who is essentially your father. I would assume this is rather uncomfortable for the both of you. I’d like to get that out of the way now, if at all possible, so we can enjoy the festivities to come together.”
“That is surprisingly forward of you,” Princess Luna noted.
“It’s a situation that requires it,” Rarity said as she flipped her mane in her usual pampered manner. “When push comes to shove, I always close my deals, and this wedding is no exception. So, why don’t we cut to the chase, and get a few assurances right off the bat. I promise not to invoke the motherly privilege so long as you agree not to be awkward about the relationship we’re about to embark in. After all, I am still technically one of your subjects. That’s hardly going to change, once I marry Hammer Strike.”
“And you won’t be expecting any extra treatment?” Celestia questioned.
“No more so than usual,” Rarity assured her. “Of course, we might need a different room, since we’ll have officially tied the knot by that point, but, aside from that, I won’t really need anything else.”
“I believe the term is, too much information,” Luna said as she winced.
“Princess Luna, really, it’s not like I’m going into anything naughty. You can give us a room far from your bedrooms, if that makes you more comfortable. Hammer Strike prefers being closer to the forges anyways. Speaking of which, I have some designs I’d like to run by the pair of you for the wedding. You two know Hammer Strike better than perhaps anyone else in this world. Surely, you could provide some input to make the theme more, shall we say, palatable for his tastes.”
Rarity pulled out her sketches, revealing the four anvils that had been planned for each corner of the dais they would step up to. An intricate sword rose from their centers, each with the head of a dragon carved for the pommel. Gossamer streamers had been included to flow over the ceiling, giving the impression of flame and smoke with its reds and muted greys, with the occasional streak of blue. Weapons racks and various suits of armor had also been considered, and their sketches lined the edges of the blueprint. Lastly, parchments had been sketched in along each of the walls, and marked with the word BLUEPRINT.
“I know it’s not exactly perfect. I only had so much time to prepare, but any input you two could add would be very much appreciated, particularly since you two know your way around a forge,” Rarity noted.
“You’ve certainly captured him, but I notice there isn’t much of yourself in this design,” Luna noted. “Teacher would not like that.”
“Where do you think the jewels for the sword will be coming from, darling?” Rarity asked with a wink as she looked over the drawing, then frowned. “Though I do see your point. Then again, I could always compensate with my dress,” she mused. “A touch of jewelry here, a bit of makeup there.” Her eyes widened, and she let out a gasp. “Of course! Why didn’t I think of it before?” She hastily pulled out a pencil, and drew in a sketch for a work table with sewing equipment and her new KEVLAR design on it. “Granted, the shroud on the altar will need a little touching up, and maybe a few more religious elements, too. Faust does need her share, after all,” she mused.
Celestia let out a relieved sigh. “Sister, you’ve just helped us dodge a proverbial arrow. Perhaps we should retreat for now, and allow Rarity her . . . her time.”
“That may be wise, Sister,” Luna nodded.
Celestia shuddered suddenly, and her eyes widened. “Oh, Mother,” she swore. “Luna, we still haven’t gotten them gifts!”
“And what, pray tell, do you imagine we could get them?” Luna asked her sister pointedly.
“A honeymoon without having to run back and save the day?” Celestia fished as they walked to the hidden panel that would take them to the royal passages.
“Really, Celestia? Really?” Luna asked as she fixed her sister with the same raised brow they had grown to love and emulate in their own time as rulers of the realm.
Celestia sighed defeatedly. “You’re right. I guess it’s too much to ask.”
Luna patted her sister’s shoulder supportively. “There there. If it still bothers you so much, you still have two whole weeks to think of something. Just make sure to put my name on the gift, too, when you do. You remember our agreement.”
Celestia rolled her eyes. “Yes, Lulu, I remember. You needn’t worry.”
Then Luna embraced her sister, and grinned. “Celestia, you’re the best big sister a Pony could ask for.” She broke off the embrace, and raced down the hall. “Well, time for me to raise the moon. We will speak more later. Goodbye!”
Celestia stared, flabbergasted at the unusual behavior, when a sickeningly sweet smell suddenly reached her nostrils. Her eyes widened. “No. You didn’t!” Too late, all became a swirling cloud of color and light. When the smoke cleared at last, a tiedyed Celestia looked over herself and the mess that had become of the passage and its artifacts, then screeched at the top of her lungs. “LUNA!”
Big Guns let loose with a masculine bellow as he charged ahead with war hammer in hand. The living wood pulsed with life and color as the anticipation of its wielder flooded through it. He lowered his head to brace for impact, even as he gave the hefty weapon a mighty swing from the right, using his forward momentum to add to the force of his attack.
“Harder!” Iron Will shouted as he shoved the weapon and Big Guns back a few paces. “You have to commit, before you can hit.”
Big Guns snorted as he wiped the sweat from his brow. “Got it.” Then he resumed his stance, and prepared to strike again. Iron Will had already proven he could take the hit, even deflect it. That wouldn’t do anypony any good, if the same could happen on the battlefield with other opponents. He charged again, this time leaping into the air, before coming down with an overhand strike.
“You're being too obvious,” Iron Will admonished as he sidestepped. “You're just throwing your weight around. Make with the rage, or get off the stage!”
“You want rage? I’ll show you rage!” Big Guns roared as he, for lack of a better term, bull rushed Iron Will. The tendrils on the back of his head writhed and thrashed as he rushed in, striking blow after blow in rapid succession. “I–” he crushed a three foot radius of the training arena to powder “–am not–” this time, Iron Will actually got pushed back a little “–a runt!” Iron Will smiled, nodding in approval. There was hope for this calf yet.
“Now concentrate. Don’t let it decide how you act. Keep your head, or end up dead!”
“How’m I supposed to do both? First it’s get angry, then it’s think things through. I do one, and I’m too weak. Do the other, and I’m too sloppy. Where’s the balance?” Big Guns huffed as he struck again and again with varying results.
With a growl, Iron Will’s face contorted into a snarl of rage. He roared as he caught Big Gun’s charge by the arm with one hand, the waist with the other, and then, in a single flurry of motion (which was impressive, considering how much smaller Iron Will was compared to Big Guns), lifted his entire body into the air over his head, and slammed it to the ground with a snort. “Are you a beast, or are you a bull?” he growled as he completely abandoned his rhyme scheme. “If you are so dedicated to either letting your instincts control you, or backing down from them, then you might as well go. Iron will can’t teach a coward.”
“I’m not trying to be a coward, damn it!” Big Guns shouted.
“You're not trying to be a bull either!” Iron will cut him off. “So you get angry. We spent thousands of years getting angry. Anger is good. It keeps you going forward. But you still need to think. You killed Changelings in the battle, right?” he asked.
“Yeah,” Big Guns said. “What of it?”
“How much of the battle do you actually remember?”
“Um . . . not much,” Big Guns admitted. “I hadn’t exactly come to terms with being me yet, if that makes sense,” he said as he rubbed the back of his head.
“If you can’t remember a battle, you can’t remember your mistakes. That can get you killed.”
“So how do you get the two sides to mesh?” Big Guns asked as he rested on the shaft of his hammer. “Is that something I just have to figure out on my own?”
“What centers you?” Iron will asked. “What ties you down, lets you feel the earth in your hooves and the pulse of Mother Earth through the planet?”
“I’m . . . not really sure. I mean, before this all happened, I’d probably say my mother, but . . . she’s gone now. I don’t really know what else I can use.”
“No friends? No family? No cow you want to make a better world for?”
“Do you seriously not know what happened? I thought Zecora told you.”
“Should that matter?” Iron will asked him. “Just because you were changed by some cursed fruit, loves off the table?”
Big Guns sighed. “It’s not that, Iron Will. I know I can still make friends, and build a new life. It’s just most of those things you asked me about are still in the past, like far in the past. When I was in that garden, time went on without me. Everyone I used to know or care about is dead. It’s . . . going to take me some time, before I can lay all those things to rest.”
“Iron Will notes you seem mighty attached to New Unity for someone with no friends or family.”
“It’s the closest thing to what I can call a home right now.” Big Guns looked up at the castle. “They took me in, after Thalia brought me back from the garden. I guess, if I really want to think of someone to help me center, it should be Zecora,” he mused. “She was there back then, too, and she’s . . . I don’t know, she’s just Zecora. You know what I mean?”
“Seems to Iron Will you have a lot of things to fight for. You just need to figure them out.”
“Think we can break, so I can try to figure that out, or are you thinking more along the lines of the practical approach?” Big Guns asked.
“Come back tomorrow,” Iron Will told him as he relaxed his stance. “We can work on it from there.”
“That sounds workable.” Big Guns cracked his neck with his hands, then he stretched, and put his hammer back on his back. “Wanna join me for lunch? The cooks make a mean salad.”
Iron will shrugged. “Iron Will has little else to do right now.”
Big Guns smiled. “Thanks, Iron Will. I really do appreciate all you’ve been doing for me.”
Iron Will smirked. “You won’t be saying that tomorrow.”
Both bulls laughed as they made their way inside.
“Okay, boys.” Black Rook looked at the troops before him. “You are the furthest advanced in the Rohirrim training program. You have seen battle, and lived to tell the tale. As such, everyone before me has been selected to head to Canterlot with Shrial and Avalon Bladefeather, and selected members of their clan, so that Grif may arrange you to your proper security details. Now, for some of you, this will be your first time in Canterlot while on duty. Keep in mind you will have your duty rosters, and I remind you that failing to report to your posts and stay there until your shift is over is punishable by court martial. You are to remember that this is a civilian area, including young foals. Keep an eye on your weapons at all times.”
Though Grif had only been gone for a few days, he’d sent a note back to start sending people over for him to arrange placements. Rook sighed exhaustedly. He wished Silver Spear was here. The unicorn was a pain in the flank sometimes, but he knew how to move masses of troops quickly. Hell, if he were there, Rook would be going with these troops, instead, but now he was stuck as the only present junior officer, and thus stuck with training those recruits who weren’t ready for active combat yet.
Rook checked every name off the list on his clipboard. “You move out at 0500. Dismissed!” He waited for them to disperse, before turning to Shrial. “All present and accounted for, Ma’am. They shouldn’t be too much trouble for you,” he said, handing her the clipboard.
“They’d better not, if they know what’s good for them. I won’t stop at the manes and tails,” she said with narrowed gaze.
“You wouldn’t be with Grif, if you did.” Rook chuckled. “I’d say this was excessive, but, given who’s getting married, I’m wondering if Grif has asked for enough.”
“Rook, let me be frank with you,” Shrial said as she patted him on the shoulder. “You and your soldiers have been trained well, to be sure. You’ve seen combat, and you survived it. But let’s face it; most of the assassins and covert killers are probably going to slip right past their radar, and Grif and I will have to take care of them.”
“So what you're saying is this is for the benefit of the less militarily inclined wedding guests?” Rook asked. “Ma’am, I’m no stranger to the security theater strategy, but with Grif pulling so much of the Gryphon muscle off the market, well, Minotaurs and Yaks aren’t exactly the most subtle.”
“You neglected to account for Ponies and Zebras,” Shrial pointed out.
“That's why you’re taking Gryphons, I imagine.” Rook chuckled. “Anyway, I, unfortunately, don’t have the roster from the slayers. You’ll have to see about Pensword for those he’s sending out. And Ma’am?”
“Yes?”
Rook stood up straight, and raised his hoof in a salute. “It’s good to have you back with us grunts, Ma’am.”
A hint of a smile pulled at Shrial’s beak, and she chuckled. “Thanks, Rook. It’s good to be back. At ease, soldier. You’re relieved of duty.” She turned to walk away, then paused. “Oh, and I nearly forgot. I left the straws in the mess hall for you and your men.”
Rook furrowed his brow. “Straws, Ma’am?”
“Well somebody has to help watch the other younglings while we’re gone, not to mention take care of Cheshire. If anything happens to any of them, I don’t think I need to threaten anyone with the consequences.”
Black Rook gulped. “No, Ma’am.”
“Good.” Shrial smirked. “Have fun,” she sang, before making her way toward Pensword’s office.
Pensword sat behind his desk, doing his best to keep his expression as neutral as possible as a few of the new cadets reported in. One of the cadets’ eyes flickered to his left, where one of the shipping boxes had been scooted to sit next to Pensword’s desk. Moon River sat up behind it, drawing on some scrap paper on its surface in imitation of her father as she babbled and smiled in her usual manner. She looked up from her “paperwork” for a moment and frowned when she noticed the cadet. “No,” she chastised, before pointing to her father.
“You heard her, cadet. Eyes forward, and on me,” Pensword growled. It took all his military discipline not to crack when Moon River growled with him. The cadets, on the other hoof, couldn’t help but smile. Pensword soon remedied that. “That’s it! Report to your cots and the tents. You think this is some laughing matter? Let’s see how you laugh about living in tents for the first month.”
“Two,” Moon River added with conviction.
“One and a half months,” Pensword haggled, even as he kept an eye on the cadets. “We don’t want to break them completely,” he pointed out.
“Okay, Daddy,” Moon River replied as she returned to her doodles.
“Dismissed,” Pensword ordered as the cadets left, looking a comedic mixture of confused, baffled, and dismayed. Pensword waited, before smiling and chuckling to himself. “I love daddy daughter days.”
The moment he said that, Moon River flapped her wings, and flew to his desk to nuzzle his face as Pensword ran a feathered wing over her nose and mane. She paused, wrinkled her nose, and sneezed as the door opened.
“I see the new recruits have been significantly disheartened. I take it you just broke the news their privileged flanks aren’t going to be getting cushy apartments in Canterlot to stay in,” Shrial said as she walked in, and tickled Moon River under her chin. “And how’s my little terror doing today?” she asked with a wicked smirk.
“Aunty!” Moon River cried as she opened her wings to their full span, before taking a fake love nip at Shrial’s talons, then pouncing to wrap her hooves around the Gryphoness’ strong neck.
“No, new cadets that arrived today. The troops you want to talk to are currently on the move to sleep in the barracks, so they could run and operate the military train Luna gave us to use tomorrow. We have supplies to load tonight, troops and their kits to load tomorrow morning at 0730, and then we signal ahead, wait for the line to clear, and set off to the underground entrance, so Princess Luna and her guards can get our troops situated.”
“Cadets, recruits, they amount to about the same thing in my book,” she said as she preened her beak through Moon River’s mane. “They may have received some basic training, but they’re still new, and they still have a long ways to go.”
“Right, so I guess you have some things on your mind, then?” Pensword asked as Moon River giggled at the peculiar sensation of a beak running through her mane. Pensword stiffened out of reflex, but soon calmed as Moon River cooed in delight. He trusted Grif and his wives, but old habits die hard, especially when the scars related to them run so deep.
“I just wanted the roster for the Demon Slayers, so I can integrate them into the overall schedule.”
“First off, the Demon Slayers haven’t had anypony other than Lightning Dust join them so far. The group you want is Fox Division. Your point of contact is a colt named Cumulus Spear.” He handed over a clipboard for Shrial to review. “This is the list. They will be in Ponyville loading the train tonight and tomorrow, and staying in the old barracks there. If you have any questions, I suggest you fly over, and talk with them.”
“Sounds like you have everything well in hand,” Shrial said with a smile as she lifted Moon River into the air, and spun her around playfully, enjoying the little shrieks of delight, before returning her to the ground and her coloring books. “Time for me to go, little one, but you haven’t seen the last of me just yet.” She booped the filly lovingly on the nose, then rose and took the list from the board. “Thanks, Penword. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Then she chuckled, and smirked as she made her way out the door. “Hope you’re ready for the bachelor party.”
“Well, Vital is the one planning it, so I think it will be safe and sound, and not too rambunctious,” Pensword replied with a small chuckle as the door closed. “Besides, it’s Vital. Do we need to say anything more?”
“Rarity, did you order another two cartloads of white roses?” Grif asked as he walked into the room with a clipboard.
“I’m afraid you’ll have to ask the flower sisters, darling. I turned all the floral arrangements over to them, once I gave them the final floor plan.”
“I swear I’ve been having people trying to sneak in as delivery Ponies all day.” Grif shook his head. “And don’t even get me started on the nobles.”
Rarity winced. “That bad?”
“Some Ponies are curious, some Ponies think they need to confront you about marrying above your station, and more than a few I’ve had to have taken in for attempts at sabotage.” Grif chuckled. “In all honesty, it’s not half so bad as Hammer Strike and I expected.”
“Have any of them considered the fact they need to take it up with Hammer Strike, if they want to attack our marriage? I mean, after all, he is the one who proposed,” she said with a smirk. “Or are they too cowardly to face him?”
“Rarity you know how people like to say, ‘if half of that is true’?” Grif asked her.
“Which application?”
“As in, ‘if half of what they say about Princess Celestia’s love of cake is true, I’ll eat my hat’?”
“Well then, definitely yes.”
“Well let me assure you that when history speaks of what Hammer Strike did to people who threatened his close ones, it’s not that half of it is true, it’s that they don’t describe half of what he was capable of. I’ve skinned people alive, and I’m not half so feared.”
“Who said anything about threats, darling?” Rarity asked sweetly. “Why, if any of those nobles were stupid enough to so much as utter a peep of criticism, they can answer to Seamripper.”
Grif was about to respond, when a voice spoke up. “Pony Joe’s delivery? Got an order for twelve dozen donuts and assorted coffee.”
“Oh, thats me!” Grif spoke up. He caught Rarity’s look. “We’re going to be here half the night. We need to have something out for everybody.”
Rarity shrugged. “If you say so, darling. I estimated it being an all nighter, myself.”
“Yeah, yeah. Just don’t hog all the crispy cremes.” He laughed, before heading off to pay.
Rarity smirked as she levitated one of said donuts out from the box, and took a bite. “You might want to order a few more, Grif. I think I’m going to need them,” she said as she started comparing the materials, and setting up some of the filmy streamers in the rafters.
Pensword and Moon River both giggled as they stood on the empty train station platform. They simply ignored any looks given by the newer soldiers, while the older soldiers and station crew just rolled their eyes. The telegraph operator had just leaned out of the window, and yelled that the train would soon be arriving. The pair now had competition for early tells. It would be a most engaging game, and would allow them to hone their senses further. They could hardly wait.
“Since when did the stations have a telegraph office?” Vital Spark asked.
Pensword gave a confused look. “Since they have the wire running by the train. You’ve traveled how many times on the train? Telegraph and trains go together like a Pegasus and a cloud. Besides, not everypony can afford dragon fire. This is the fastest for the average Pony.”
“Then how the heck did I miss it for all this time?” Vital Spark asked?
“Oh, that’s easy,” Shrial said with a chuckle. “Pensword kept beating them to the punch. And it’s not like you have much need for a messenger service, anyways.”
Vital sighed. “Good point.”
“I do have my moments,” Shrial said as she polished her talons on her chest.
“I do wish the train would hurry, though, Avalon said impatiently. “I miss Grif.”
Shrial was quick to react, and shoved a large plush replica of their husband into Avalon’s grip. “Here. Use this, until we arrive.”
Avalon nearly hugged the stuffing out of the plush as she cuddled it.
“. . . I assume that has to do with the pregnancy?” Vital asked.
“Every bit of it,” Shrial agreed. “It affects each of us differently.”
“I hope I never have to find an angry expecting mother, then,” Vital said.
“They’re certainly not a pleasant lot,” Shrial agreed.
Pensword paused. “My mother was grumpy with Moon Burn and Whirlwind. I remember she decapitated a mannequin right before labor. Back then, I didn’t understand. He blushed. She just got mad, attacked the backyard, then vanished inside, and I couldn’t go in till nightfall. Then there was Moon Burn,” he muttered as he scuffed a hoof on the cobbled stone of the train platform. “Apparently, the first thing I said after the whole thing was over was that I wanted to do that when I grew up. Naturally, the whole room burst into laughter.”
“Now that right there is a story for the record books, Pensword. Have you considered writing some of them down?” Vital asked.
“I am. I do have to write my autobiography, after all. It’s a military tradition among the commanders, though I suppose they would be called military memoirs,” Pensword mused.
“I’m looking forward to reading it, then.” Vital smiled as the train chuffed into the station. “Learning about what life was like during that time will be educational, even if it is going to be on the dark side.”
“That is life. Well, if you’ll excuse me, I am going to get a window seat, and spend more time with my daughter and wives.” With that, Pensword walked onto the train, and got to a seat to wait for the rest of the main party to board. Hammer Strike moved to his own seat without a word.
“Wait for me!” a familiar young colt’s voice called as Button Mash rushed to the platform with his propeller spinning madly. He quickly made his way into the cart, and grinned from ear to ear as he joined Hammer Strike. “Hi, Hammer Strike!” he greeted cheerfully. “Ready for the wedding?”
“Yes, I am,” Hammer Strike said with a smile.
“Hey! Don’t forget us,” Sweetie Belle called as she and her parents both stepped into the cart. She frowned in Button’s direction. “Why’d you have to go and leave us all behind like that?”
“I wanted to sit next to Hammer Strike,” Button said defensively.
Sweetie Belle sighed, and facehoofed as she shook her head. “It’s not like the whole class is gonna be here to steal a seat,” she pointed out.
“And Apple Bloom and Scootaloo?” he countered.
“Sit across from us,” Sweetie said with a smile.
“U-us?”
“Well, yeah. I wanna see Hammer Strike playing, too, you know,” she said as she pulled herself up onto the other side of the cart’s seat cushion, and settled in next to the stallion. “And he’s going to be my big brother, anyways, so if anyone’s gonna be sitting next to him, it’s gonna be me,” she proclaimed proudly.
“Take your seats soon. The train should be leaving any time now,” Hammer Strike chided.
“Then you’ll play some more on my Joyboy?” Button asked excitedly.
Hammer Strike gave a faint chuckle. “Sure, I’ll see if I can beat the old record.”
“It’s so exciting. And did you hear? There’s a new company coming out. They say they’re going to make even better games, ones that look more real,” Sweetie Belle said with a smile.
“I know, right?” Button gushed. “It’s supposed to be an extension for HIVE studios.”
Hammer Strike smiled as he looked down at the two foals. He liked children. They always seemed to carry that sense of wonder that was so hard for adults like him to find. He chuckled as Rarity’s face flashed across his mind. Then again, he’d been lucky enough to find one himself, and he was going to enjoy it while he still could. With that resolve set firmly in mind, the train jerked into motion, and the journey to Canterlot, and the wedding that would soon follow, began.
“. . . Hammer Strike, just how much money did you give her?” Vital Spark asked as he gaped at the city of Canterlot from his window. Streamers, signs, and attractions covered the whole structure like well-organized confetti. Armor, confetti, treats, toy daggers and swords, you name it, the decorations had it.
“However much is in my bank account?” Hammer Strike replied simply.
“You know, by that logic, I wouldn’t be surprised if you just acquired another parcel of land to rule over,” Vital mused as he sweatdropped.
Hammer Strike simply shrugged in response.
“Well, I think Moon River is liking the toy weapons. I’ll talk to Rarity about letting the Thestrals take some home with them to create a play armory.”
“You do realize they’re probably party favors designed for the foals, right, Pensword?” Vital asked.
“And party favors will have leftovers. It is a common fact. Parents toss them away, they’re left forgotten at tables, strewn about on the ground. The list goes on. Trust me, one way or another, there will most likely be leftovers. Heck, if we’re lucky, maybe we’ll even get extras that never got handed out in the first place.” He paused. “That actually happened once to one of Matthew’s Cousins. I think they still have a box of bubble wands, and they have a six, four, and three-year-old now?”
“One thing at a time, Pensword. One thing at a time,” Vital said pointedly. “You and the others still have to set up the security detail, and get everything else settled in, before the bachelor party tonight.”
“Just hold your tongue till we get out of the train station. We are going to have to face Tartarus, all because you’re making us come out at the public platform. There’s no way you’re not going through it with us.”
“It can’t be that bad, Pensword,” Vital pointed out. “It’s a celebration. Besides, I’m pretty sure Rarity will have made the proper arrangements to avoid most of those issues.”
“We will have to go through the crowds. That means we will be talking about running into nobles,” Pensword countered. “Still, hold on, we’ll be breaking soon.” To the surprise of many, Lunar Fang dropped suddenly from the ceiling, and kissed Pensword full on the lips.
“You sure you shouldn’t be called Ninja Fang?” Vital Spark queried.
“I would be a poor Thestral, indeed, if I couldn’t use the shadows as my ally, but I doubt I surprised everypony. It’s dark up there, so I slept most of the train ride. I’m certain Hammer Strike knew I was up there, so I mostly surprised just you and the guests from Ponyville.”
“That’s a lot of guests,” Vital pointed out.
“I know. Isn’t it wonderful to know I’ve still got it?” Lunar Fang asked with a mischievous wink.
“Looks like someone’s feeling a little cheeky today,” Vital returned.
“It’s not every night I get to get away with the oldest trick in the book. Hay, Moon River does it better than I do, and she’s still just a foal.” She smiled proudly as she braced a hoof against a seat for the sudden jerk of the brakes activating.
“You do realize it’s daytime, right?” Vital asked.
Pensword looked to Vital. “Phrase. Night is day to us Thestrals. It is like … like … Water off an otter?” He scrunched his muzzle, looking totally confused at the phrase. “Or other human phrases that don’t make sense, if taken too literally.”
“You mean water off a duck’s back?” Vital asked.
“Don’t ask me. Ask the humans,” Pensword groused. “He’s the one that told me.”
“I assume you mean Matthew?” Vital asked. “Also, Lunar Fang, isn’t there something you need to do?” Vital asked as he looked meaningfully towards Pensword.
Lunar Fang looked at Vital. “Kiss while we break?” she asked as the brakes squealed. “That would be dangerous, and my husband would bite me for risking myself and our foal.”
“Ah, but you could always steal a peck now, couldn’t you?” Vital asked with a sly smirk as the platform pulled up at last.
Grif was already waiting, tapping gently on a clipboard. To the untrained eye, he looked completely casual, dressed in nothing more defensive than a leather jerkin. Of course, most people looking at him could tell by the way he walked that he had several different weapons on him, but he managed to look almost unsettlingly calm as he watched the train come to a halt.
The doors clicked open, and the passengers began to disembark. First came Lunar Fang with Pensword close behind as he laid a protective wing over her flanks. Then Hammer Strike emerged, flanked by the two foals and the remainder of the CMC. Then Vital Spark emerged, followed by the parents and an outpouring of guests and guards who had followed in the other cars.
“All guards from New Unity, front and center five minutes ago. Come on!” Grif shouted the moment the guards started unloading. “Groups of three. One Gryphon, one Pony one Thestral, in that order!”
Grif continued to bark as the Ponies in question unloaded and hurried to arrange themselves as ordered. Each time one of the Rohirrim took a spot, they stood up straight, and lifted their right hooves, when they still possessed the ability to do so. No one was going to fault old lefty for the limited movement, after his arrow to the knee. The hooves rose to their left shoulders as each gryphon lowered their beaks respectfully. The Thestrals and Demon Slayers, however, offered no special salute as they took their place in line.
“Now then, you have all been selected for guard duty, because you are all the best we have. Don’t go and start patting yourselves on the back, though. From the point that we leave this station, until the time were we leave Canterlot, you are all to consider yourselves on duty. You will be working eight hour shifts. Ponies, you have day shifts. Gryphons, you take dusk shift. And Thestrals, naturally, you are the night shift. These shifts are not going to be adjusted or negotiated. You will come to your posts, do your eight hours, then leave. The rest of the time is your own. A support unit has already been arranged to see that you are fed and watered as needed. If someone that isn’t me, Hammer Strike, or Pensword comes up to you, and attempts to have you leave your post, I don’t care if it’s the captain of the royal guard. I don’t care if it’s Shining Armor. I don’t give a flying feather if it’s the princesses themselves with a signed royal order! You will punch the perpetrator in the face, LIKE A BOSS! Is that understood?”
A united “Sir, yes, Sir!” echoed through the air as the troops completed their salutes.
“The people in your groups are the people who will switch out with you, and whom you will switch with in turn. For example, if you are a Pony, you can expect to be relieved by a Gryphon, and that you will relieve a Thestral. If something breaks with this pattern, if you are not relieving someone of the appropriate species, if the person you come to relieve isn’t the person in your group, you are to arrest them for interfering with a military operation, and inform me to press charges on the missing guard for dereliction of duty. Until the end of this wedding, this is an Alpha Seven Solar Flare level operation. Moving out of the assigned pattern is to be considered a crime against Equestria. Is that understood?”
Again, the resounding reply sounded.
“Good.” Grif took a large stack of papers from one of his packs, and passed it to the first group. “Take assignment A, and pass the stack on to the next group. Keep it alphabetical, people. A, B, C, D. I hope you all can understand that sequence well enough to not need your hands and hooves held.”
Pensword glared at his fellow Demon Slayers. “Pass your sheets. They’re for Fox Division. You have your assignments from me. You inherited an old position to be my bodyguards, so don’t think of taking Grif’s assignments.” His eyes locked on Lighting Dust, who sheepishly put a sheet of paper back onto the pile.
“If you're all prepared, Ponies, move to your assigned positions, until relief comes. As for the rest of you, your hotel rooms and routes have been outlined. Dismissed!” Grif shouted.
The troops dispersed rapidly, even as Grif felt two taloned hands on either shoulder, and two cooing girls preening his neck feathers from behind.
“Well now, by the pricking of my wings, I detect two mischievous things.” Grif chuckled, looking over each shoulder to nuzzle one of his daughters. “How’s daddy’s girls?”
“As spry and sly as ever,” Shrial said as she pecked Grif on the cheek.
“They missed their father over the last few days,” Avalon added. “Athena was trying to draw up plans to get to Canterlot, so she could see you.”
“She can’t read or write yet, but she’s planning complicated escape plans out of a heavily guarded fortress and across miles of terrain to a walled city on the side of a mountain?” Grif asked, genuinely shocked.
“Well, I wouldn’t call them complicated just yet,” Avalon said as she pulled out said drawings. They were little more than scribbles with stick figures displaying potential scenarios that were, admittedly, fairly outlandish. “But it’s the thought that counts.”
“Do cubs usually develop this fast?” Grif asked, doing his best to hide a grimace.
“Well, we are part feline, after all. Cubs become fairly independent at a young age,” Avalon pointed out.
“And they are their father’s daughters,” Shrial added.
“Their father was found by a crusty old bird, in the firewood pile, during a dark and frightful storm, and later became the single most controversial figure in our known history, both ancient and recent,” Grif said with a smile. “Let’s hope they take after you, or we may find out they snuck out of the house at night to start a revolution in some third world country. Honestly, I’d prefer them sneaking out to see a boy to that,” Grif said, unaware that, in exactly sixteen years, he’d come to regret those words.
“Careful what you wish for, dear,” Avalon said.
“You might just get it,” Shrial finished with a mischievous grin that seemed a little too much like Cheshire’s for comfort.
“Well then, girls, shall I direct you to our house, or should we find something battered and fried in grease first?” Grif said, eyeing Avalon.
“Tempura?” she asked. “For some reason, I’m craving a good tempura roll.”
“The we shall find you tempura.” Grif laughed, giving both of them a kiss on the head. “Let me just check in with Hammer Strike. Wait for me by the door?”
“Don’t be long, Grif. We’ve got a lot of catching up to do,” Avalon said with a dreamy smile as Shrial pushed her along to the station’s entrance.
“Come on, girls!” Shrial called. The two cubs stuck their tongues out at their mother, and clung to their father’s feathers, and Shrial narrowed her gaze. “You girls don’t want to test your mother, do you?” she asked.
The two clung all the tighter, and Shrial sighed as she walked back to pull them off. “Come on, you two. We’ll share our sushi with you, if you behave,” she promised.
The two fixed her with puppy dog eyes, and Shrial folded her arms adamantly.
“Daddy will be joining us soon. He needs to take care of a few more things with Uncle Hammer Strike first, though. Now come on. Let Daddy finish his work, okay?”
The two cubs sulked and simpered, but ultimately relented to the superior strength and reasoning of their mother. Grif made a mental note to ask how Shrial had managed to overcome the devastating power of the puppy dog eyes later.
Grif approached Hammer Strike once he was sure he was alone. “Sixty five,” he said in a calm tone that would make anyone watching them assume it was casual conversation. “Different methods and weapons. No one’s tried poisoning her yet, but I’ve been careful to cook our food myself.”
“Delightful.” Hammer Strike sighed. “If it were to come down to it, you should still have the knowledge of removing toxins from things.”
“Oh, I’ve checked a few things, cake samplers, and the like. The chefs are on the up and up, mostly because I explained in no small detail what I would do to them if I found anything, but that was from the chef to her. The amount of servants needed for this leaves a lot of weak spots, as I’m sure you understand.”
Hammer Strike nodded his agreement.
“I have Luna with her now, so she’s safe, but at least now there is a wider group of people to keep her safe. The bride may be wearing white, but I expect to be wearing red.”
“Things can never go smoothly without incident,” Hammer Strike hummed. “It’s the way our lives work by this point.”
“Yes. Well, you are the most influential figure in their history,” Grif noted, “and, for the first time, you have a weakness that doesn’t swing a giant hammer that has literally turned things into paste. There’ll be as many ponies lined up to take advantage of that as there will be to kiss your flank.”
“At least she can handle herself to a point, but she’ll only get better over time.”
“She’s overconfident, and I’m not talking about the casual bluster ‘big man’ act I use off the battlefield. She’s talented, but she has no idea what some of these assassins are capable of.” Grif sighed. “She needs to remember that her enemies have their own strengths.”
“Hopefully, it will be an easy lesson.”
“That's what I’m trying to make it. Still, I’m only one Gryphon. I can do two places at once, if I push it, but not three. Just make sure you never leave her alone, until this is over. Ponyville is too . . . legendarily unlucky for there to be much trouble afterwards.”
“Trust me, that won’t be much of an issue.”
“Anyway, you're out at this moment by a good six hundred and fifty thousand bits with another hundred thousand likely to be gone before sundown, if Rarity keeps offering money to steal the skilled workers from other noble events.” Grif smiled “I told her to offer more, but she seems dead set on not letting you spend more than necessary.”
“You know, there are times I worry about the economy, and I’m hoping things don’t get too out of control.”
“With a financial mind like hers, I wouldn’t be surprised if she balanced out her spending with the proper organizations to make sure she avoided that kind of issue,” Vital said as he joined the pair. “And Hammer Strike, make sure you get plenty of rest. Tonight, we’re going to have a party the likes of which will leave the nobles positively without words.”
“Oh?” Pensword perked up from kissing his wife. “Are we TPing Blueblood’s estate?”
Lunar Fang looked confused and spoke slowly “What is TP?”
“Toilet paper,” Hammer Strike replied, “assuming he’s going off the human part of his mind.”
“Well, that wasn’t part of my original plans, but we could always improvise, I suppose. Though, of course, I wouldn’t condone such criminal behavior. I definitely wouldn’t suggest trying to sneak out while I’m distracted with a videogame, and then sneaking back in, so I don’t notice. I also wouldn’t suggest going to the new store Filthy Rich stocked up in Canterlot to buy out their entire stock of toilet paper for the purpose, before teleporting it all to the Bluebloods’ mansion to perform said prank. I would never condone such behavior that could easily be excused as an inevitable result of all-night revelry at a bachelor/stag party, including special reserves from the best brewers in Equestria, like the Dwarves and the Demos,” Vital Spark said with a hint of a smile.
Grif wiped away a tear. “They grow up so fast.”
Pensword and Lunar Fang blinked in silent shock. Moon River just giggled.
“Oh, and Hammer Strike, you’ll definitely not want to give these warding runes Clover told me to practice writing to the Shield brothers, so they can enchant the toilet paper, and make it so the Bluebloods have to remove the paper by hoof,” Vital said as he hastily wrote down the runes in question, and let the parchment drop conveniently to the platform. “Oops. Would one of you mind picking that up? It looks like Avalon and Shrial are calling me over,” he said as he whistled a playful tune, and hastily made his exit.
A moment later, Moon River was holding the paper with a mad gleam in her eye.
Day Moon looked around with a confused expression. “I thought Uncle Vital was supposed to be the serious one. Did he really just do that?”
“My young friend, too much serious is toxic,” Grif explained as he laid a counseling hand on the foal’s shoulder. “That's why every serious person you see walks around with a straight face, and, sometimes, with their noses in the air. They don’t want anyone to see how much pain they’re in.”
Day Moon just nodded his head. “So … we game soon?” he asked.
Canterlot arcade was always a bit of a contradiction in and of itself, being that the establishment was considered to be far too uncouth for most of the higher and lesser nobility, while simultaneously being in too high class a neighborhood to cater to its more fitting clientele. At the same time, numerous noble foals of lesser and higher nobility often snuck into the arcade, despite their parents’ wishes, in order to attempt to prove they could beat the higher scores of their lessers, a plan which alway seemed doomed abysmally to failure. But, of course, this was neither here nor there, as many noble foals found the arcade doors locked with a sign brandishing the words Closed for Private Function placed over the doors. Had they been willing to dirty their hooves, and go around to the alley, they might have noticed as groups of less opulent foals where snuck inside to enjoy an afternoon of free games with truly endless tokens. After all, the current occupants couldn’t play every game in the building, no matter how hard they tried.
“Remind me, why haven’t I purchased an arcade machine or two for New Unity?” Hammer Strike asked aloud.
“You were too busy stressing over paperwork and smithing projects,” Vital Spark answered as he shifted the buffer for his air hockey puck with his magic to protect his goal from the latest challenger, a young white foal with an orange mane that curved over his eyes in four long spiky bangs.
“Besides we didn’t have a secure room to put them in, with all the Changeling attacks,” Grif called as he played a young teal filly at Parasprite Stallion.
Pensword shook his head as watched his foals and the foals from the Lunar Guard taking up all six skee ball games while competing for highest score. “Well, I doubt we will have long to wait, till we get something like this.”
“Well, we could always build up an arcade of our own at New Unity. You did say you were going to expand out to rebuild the whole city, right?” Vital Spark asked as he and the young foal went horn to horn over possession of the puck.
“Yeah. I guess it is technically on the list already,” Hammer Strike hummed. “Though residential districts will come first, so there is some time before then.”
Some of the foals whined, bemoaning that terrible fate, even as they consoled themselves by immersing further in their gaming endeavors. Pensword simply smiled, even as he lost his game. “Good things come to those that wait, little colts. Besides,” he added with a wink, “we are playing right now.” He looked to Hammer Strike and Grif. “But we definitely have to make ours the coolest,” he noted.
“Might have to wait for the right innovations from some of the gaming companies, then. Reserve some contracts or something,” Vital noted. Then he sighed as the foal shot through his gap in concentration, scoring the winning point. He finished with a grim salute, then stepped down to let the next foal take his shot.
“As tempting as it is,” Grif told Vital as the colt cheered his victory, “we can’t just bring random games into existence because we want to.”
“Are you kidding? All of this is awesome as is,” Pensword said as he swept a wing around the room, only to have Day Moon take said wing in a powerful grip and pull his uncle to play Whack the Gopher. “Come on, Uncle Dad,” he said teasingly. “I want to play against you.”
“Okay, okay. Let me get the mallet,” Pensword said as he picked up said item, stuck a token into the machine, and the two went at it.
“Who wants to see a neat trick?” Grif asked some of the assembled foals as he made his way over to the ping pong table. This garnered some interest, and a crowd soon gathered as Grif lifted one of the paddles, and took a ball. The foals looked on, confused, as there was no one on the other side of the table. They seemed almost disappointed as Grif served the ball, only to release shocked gasps as, seemingly from nowhere, an identical Gryphon appeared at the other end of the table to hit the ball back. The foals watched on, enraptured as the twins played one another in a rousing volley.
Button Mash was hard at work on a brand new arcade game called Tempest. He manipulated the rotary dial with practiced ease as he maneuvered the tiny speck that was his airship along geometric playing fields as the machine spat out one ticket for every hundred points he earned. At sixteen thousand and rising, the trail of tickets had really begun to mount up. Every once in awhile, his eyes would drift to the high tiered ticket items, and a glint of determination shone as he returned to the game.
“How is he doing that?” one of the foals marveled as Button continued to twist and turn his ship, blasting enemies, while avoiding contact with obstacles.
“My friend,” Vital Spark said with a knowing smile, “this is his calling. Video games are his thing.” He looked over at the higher tiered shelf, and chuckled. “And I think I might know what he’s going for.”
“Shh,” Button hushed them. “I’m getting to the boss.” He mashed the button in a manner that was true to his name as he twisted the dial with precision and focus. His eyes narrowed as his breathing grew labored, and a bead of sweat ran down the side of his head. His beany had fallen off in his intense rush of focus, revealing his full fiery orange mane. “I’ve only ever gotten to this point three times before, and I always mess it up here, so, please, be quiet,” he hissed.
Pensword smiled as he and Grif finished their games. “So,” he began, “any two player games you see we could compete against?”
“Maybe, if I held back.” Grif chuckled, before draining a bottle of soda. “But I’ll humor you. Pick something.”
Pensword looked about. “Okay … what about those hoof ball hoops?” he asked, pointing to what looked for all the world like a carnival basketball game from Earth, only here, it was called hoofball, and the hoops were connected to brightly colored tubes with the bottoms cut out of them for easy retrieval.
Grif gestured wordlessly for Pensword to lead the way.
“So should we give our tickets to Button to help him get his prize?” Pensword asked as he picked up a ball, and tossed it towards the bucket, then picked up a second, even as the first was still in motion to keep the game moving.
“Already been doing that,” Grif said as he showed off a bit with some trick throws.
“Sweet.” Pensword grinned, both at the response and the challenge. He didn’t bother wasting time on tricks. He wanted to score as many points as he could, and he knew Grif could afford the extra time with his speed. “I’m sure Button will get the prize, no matter what happens tonight.” He lapsed into silence as a series of bells, sirens, and whistles heralded the end of their time in the competition. Unfortunately, Pensword fell short by just a few points. “I almost–.” He paused and spoke dragonic next. “This is bringing Matthew more to the front. Never got to really play in arcades that much.”
“And? You know how to throw. You’ve thrown a tomahawk to split a melon twenty feet away. This should be easy,” Grif chuckled.
“Why do you think we’re so close in scores?” Pensword asked as his wing twitched.
Hammer Strike’s gaze was firm and implacable as he worked through the timing on the rapidly shifting magical lights on the screen running back and forth. With each runby, he would press the button to stop the light’s motion, and then let it fall where it would on the pile. The higher it rose, the closer it drew to the big money prize. The images of two nigh-identical mustachioed Unicorns grinned down in defiance at the battle-hardened player with every bit he inserted into the coin slot.
Against all odds, he managed to stack a nigh-perfect tower at three blocks each, then two, all the way up to this final block as the light flashed faster and faster back and forth. Hammer Strike timed it carefully, then slammed the button home as the light blinked to a halt over the top of the tower. Sparks flew from the machine as the lights in the screen wavered for a moment or two, before restarting with the sounds of several bells and whistles.
“Congratulations to our big winner! Tell him what he’s won, brother mine,” a recording echoed from a pair of speakers that had been cleverly hidden on the sides.
“Jackpot, brother dear. Our friend here is a bonafide, I say bonafide stacking champeen.”
“To the victor go the spoils!” both voices cried together as ticket after ticket spat out in Hammer Strike’s face.
“I thought the game would have been a little more rigged than this,” Hammer Strike commented as he watched the tickets exit the machine.
“Um, Hammer Strike, I think you broke it,” Vital Spark pointed out as he watched the happy grins on the Flim Flam Brothers break off their hinges to fall into frowns as the lighting flickered, and the last few tickets spewed from the expulsion, before the machine died away in an almost pained sputter.
“... Should have made it better, then.” Hammer Strike shrugged as he looked over the mountain of tickets.
“So what are you going to do with all the loot?”
“I dunno, give it to the kids?”
Vital shrugged. “That’ll work. By the way, your covert escort is waiting for you whenever you’re ready for that little not-prank that I’m not supposed to know about.”
“Don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Exactly.” Vital Smiled. “Have fun.” With that, he made his way into the crowd of foals, whistling innocently as he walked over to a karaoke machine.
“So,” Lunar Fang said as she looked up from her cards, a large black-and-silver stein of cider frothing on the table beside her, “how long before those boys go out to do some immature prank?”
“How long does it take them to find trouble?” Shrial countered.
“How long does it take Grif to get to the other side of a room?” Avalon added.
“I believe what they’re trying to say, dear, is they’re almost always in some sort of mischief or trouble,” Rarity said.
“And Canterlot is no exception,” Avalon confirmed.
“Well most of the nobles pretty much embody what those three despise most in a person,” Lunar Fang noted. “Indifference, arrogance, ignorance. Honestly, if it wasn’t for having to explain themselves to the princesses, I half expect Grif and Hammer Strike would have baptized this city in blood a while ago.”
“That, and the whole risk of collapsing the economy and raising overall panic, darling. And let’s not forget the most important thing of all,” Rarity added.
“What’s that?”
“Hammer Strike can’t be bothered by them, at least not easily,” the mare pointed out as she levitated two stacks of colored chips into the center of the table. “They’re generally not worth the effort.”
“So getting back to our previous topic,” Lunar Fang chuckled, before looking to one of the other spots on the table. The occupant couldn’t currently be seen over the large stack of chips in front of her as a glass of juice with a straw and an umbrella lay casually to the side. “How exactly did you get so good at this, Dinky?”
“Well, Daddy knows this one casino on Mars two hundred years from now, where there’s no minimum gambling age,” Dinky Doo spoke up. “He says it’s the best way to develop a good ‘serious face.’”
“Frankly, I think you look adorable, no matter what face you use. Honestly, I could base a whole line of clothing off of you, and it would probably make me a fortune,” Rarity said. “Oh, and I call, by the way.”
“That depends. Do copyright’s work backwards in time as well as forwards?” she asked. “Because we met this one lady on New Equestria, and she said the same thing, and she ended up doing it!” Dinky explained happily. “Unfortunately, mommy and daddy can’t use any of the money right now, because it won’t be minted for another twelve hundred years.”
“Well, frankly, darling, I don’t think we should risk it, if that’s the case. I’d rather not deal with altering time, unless, of course, it doesn’t actually have a major effect on the whole space time continuum.”
Avalon choked on her drink, much to the other girls’ amusement.
“Sorry, Avalon. I should have warned you about our resident Time Lady here. I’ll just leave it at somebody she knows gave us a hand getting back to the present day, after the war,” Shrial explained.
“Call,” Lunar Fang said, putting her cards down. The groans came from around the table as others put down their own hands. Lunar fang almost crowed in victory, until Dinky placed her cards down: a pair of kings, and three aces
“Full house,” she claimed happily as she pulled the chips into her already giant pile.
Moon River hissed angrily as she shoved her hooves through a tower of poker chips she’d been playing with, strewing them across the table and the floor, before screaming, and smacking her forehooves on the tray, then degrading to childish sniffles as she struggled to pass one of the few chips left to Lunar Fang. After Lunar Fang took it, and kissed the foal gently, Moon River contented herself by attacking a large plastic mouse toy that had been embedded with a cooling rune for her to teeth on.
“It’s just a game, Moony,” Lunar Fang told her daughter, before placing the chip on the filly’s tray, and gesturing for her to keep it. “Don’t worry.”
“Just how long did it take you to learn the game, anyways, Dinkie?” Rarity asked curiously.
“A week.”
“Oh my. Why, Dinkie, dear, if you really wanted to teach Diamond Tiara a lesson, why didn’t you just challenge her to a game of cards, then?”
“Because she’d claim I cheated, and sick her dad on us, and we live in a small blue box in Aunty Carrot Top’s yard, and clear out her fridge twice a week. Daddy looks crazy enough. I don’t want government Ponies misinterpreting things and causing trouble,” Dinky noted. “Amethyst’s paperwork will only stand so much scrutiny.”
“I would think with the number of times he’s supposedly saved the world that Celestia and Luna would’ve given him some type of reward or clemency, wouldn’t they?”
“His clemency only stands so long as he keeps to the Stellar Tracking Articulation Bio-Legal Evaluations from the office of extraterrestrial affairs, regulations, and guidelines. And they're not going to be able to hide the fact that Sparkler’s documents are all falsified, because she won’t be born till twenty years in the future, and is only here now because future Mom and Dad left her with Aunty River to look after, and then she left her with us, and now Mom and Dad can’t contact future Mom and Dad to get her back to her own timeline.” Dinky’s age finally showed as the filly gave an overdramatic sigh. “This is too complicated.”
“Time travel often is,” Celestia pointed out as she walked in with a cart laden down with samples of every cake available under moon or sun.
“It is why I seek only to enter your father’s present dreams,” Luna added, “And even then, only rarely.”
“Now who wants cake?” Celestia asked with her usual mischievous smile. “We’ve got plenty to sample, before the night’s through.”
Shrial sighed. “I’m afraid I’ve still got a little longer to go before I can partake. Do you think you could have your chefs send up something hearty?”
“Assuming you can wait long enough for them to cook it, yes,” Celestia said. “Though I’d recommend you ask Luna. I hear her Thestrals make some wonderful delicacies for meat eaters.”
“Could you, Luna? Please?” Shrial asked as her stomach growled. “It’d really help.”
Luna chuckled. “I’ll see what I can do, Shrial.”
Cadence smiled as she levitated cake slices to each of the mares at the table. “I hope you don’t mind my not joining. Shining says I have a terrible poker face. And besides, I prefer watching, and somepony needs to keep her eye on the rest of the guests. You girls may not be so competitive, but last I checked, Applejack and Rainbow Dash have a bit of a record in that regard.”
“You had to be there to believe it,” Twilight agreed from her place at the other table.
“Hey!” both mares in question objected. The room promptly burst into laughter as Celestia stuffed two slices of cake in both mares’ mouths, then served the other guests.
The Moon slowly dropped from the sky as dawn approached. The arcade was closing down as the last wee hours of the event held only Button Mash, Vital, Hammer Strike, Grif, Pensword, Big Mac, and Spike. All of them wanted to squeeze out every last second of fun in the place. Pensword smiled to Hammer Strike. “So how do you feel about tonight?”
“Hey, that’s supposed to be my question!” Vital said with a tired chuckle.
“It was fun,” Hammer Strike replied with a smile. “Haven’t done something like this in years.”
“Better than getting drunk and waking up sick tomorrow, then being expected to function properly,” Grif noted as he stretched his wings.
“So this is what a bachelor party is supposed to be like,” Spike said. “That was awesome!”
Big Mac chuckled. “Eeyup.”
“And how’s our little gaming champion doing?” Vital asked as he motioned with his head towards Hammer Strike’s back.
“Passed out in the last two minutes.”
“And did he earn his prize for the fair lady?”
Pensword chuckled. “He sure did. He’s wearing it, so he won’t lose it.”
“Those two will be good for each other,” Grif chuckled “She’ll break his shell, and he’ll teach her to think strategically.”
Pensword paused. “I dare not think what they would do when they get older.” He chuckled. “Still, we should get him to bed, before anypony wakes him up.”
“I believe he’s in your room, Vital? Seeing as you’re the only bachelor, you’re rooming with Button and Spike,” Grif said with a smirk.
Vital shrugged. “I can live with that. It’s not like Spike snores, and Button’s pretty cool.” He chuckled. “I still can’t believe they have that necklace from Minecraft here, though.” The necklace was flat and ovular with a bright blue gem surrounded by a golden housing that had been studded with real diamonds and held in place by a fourteen karat solid chain. To finish the piece, a ruby pickaxe had been carefully fused on top of the gem with its picks curving to either side of the housing. “Seriously, the kid would be mugged in a second, if that thing ever made it back to Earth.”
“If we had these kinda gems back on Earth, the Russian blood diamond market would crash in an instant,” Grif said as he tossed a sapphire back and forth in his claws.
“Can we actually do that?” Pensword, no, this time Matthew, asked with a glint in his eyes. “I would enjoy teaching those mobsters a thing or two.”
“You realize they basically are the only thing holding up the Russian economy right now, right, at least when we left?” Grif chuckled.
“Uh, no. I thought they were doing economics like normal. Can we at least mess with NK?” Matthew asked in Draconic.
“Careful. We don’t want to start alienating readers,” Grif responded.
“Don’t pull a Pinkie on me. Please,” Matthew started, then shook his head. “It is too early in the morning for this,” Pensword finished.
“I thought this was the time you usually were awake,” Vital teased.
“You know, I never figured I’d own a house in Canterlot. Maybe I should turn it into low income apartments when I’m done with it, drive the neighbours crazy.” Grif chuckled as they walked down the rows of posh houses.
“Would that even be possible?” Vital asked curiously. “I’d think you’d have a lot of red tape to go through first, wouldn’t you? Oh, and secondly, how many assassins did you two take out while the kids and I were otherwise occupied? I’m curious.”
“I got seventeen,” Grif noted, “unless you discount the one left bleeding from his limbs and unable to move all but his left arm, who I left alive to send a message. I don’t think he’ll survive the wounds, but he should live long enough to tell his boss to send more assassins.”
“I took out ten myself, though two, I think, were gunning for Blueblood. I kind of got into the rhythm, so, yeah. My bad,” Pensword replied with a nervous grin.
“You actually want more assassins?” Vital balked.
“Well, yeah. These guys?” he scoffed, “they were amateurs. You figure someone would send the premo-assassins for wishing Hammer Strike a happy wedding.”
Vital Spark opened his mouth, stared for a time, closed his mouth, then opened it again. “How the heck does that even constitute a wedding present?”
Pensword looked to Vital. “Minotaurs send parties to test the union, Luna could’ve wanted to give an early gift to Hammer Strike. . ..” Pensword continued to rattle off a number of possible reasons for assassins to be sent as he counted them up on his feathers. “Then there are the local gangs wanting to put pressure on the nobles, those not liking the class divide being crossed, and, oh, some folks maybe having a death wish.”
“Accurate,” Hammer Strike commented.
“Some people send assassins after us just to cut down on the amount of hired killers in their area.” Grif shrugged. “It’s when they send assassins after people you care about that you know they mean to hurt you.”
“You’d think they would’ve learned by now,” Vital pointed out. “I mean, come on. It’s Hammer Strike. From what you guys have told me, he’s practically unkillable. If anything, I’d see this as a way to get rid of greenies who don’t know any better, assuming I were in the position of a guildmaster, that is.”
“That’s the point. Cut the chaff out now, so when you need a real figure assassinated, you know you’ve got the best. Every ruler keeps their assassins handy. I mean look at Celestia. She has one of the deadliest assassins of all available.”
“Time?” Vital teased.
“Me,” Grif returned.
“Wow. You didn’t even crack a smile at that,” Vital said, surprised. “I already know you’re the most skilled out there. Just about everyone says so, really. You literally put the fear of the gods into the recruits just by walking past them.”
“I don’t smile, because I don’t boast. I’m not joking or making an idle brag. I’ve scaled the stone walls of a fortress by night, dropped to the ground and killed the sentries seconds later, and by the time the fortress captain left his office to do his rounds at midnight, I’d slit the throats of every Gryphon there. He thought I’d already left when he picked up his pen to write an emergency report, only for the Dust of the Abyss I’d laced the feather with to pull him to his death. I remember every minute of that operation, Vital. Death dealing isn’t a joke.”
“I know, Grif.” Vital sighed as he looked away. “Believe me, I know.” He shook his head. “Sorry. I just killed the buzz, didn’t I? Why don’t we go back to talking about the fun stuff?”
“No, it just shows the growth you haven’t been forced to go through yet. I hope you never get there, my friend,” Grif said kindly as he put supportive talon on his shoulder. “Because looking into that abyss that lies inside your soul, and seeing the monster that feeds within, once you have taken that step, you never forget.”
“Is it … wrong for me to wish you didn’t have to face that pain?” Vital asked. “I mean, I know you wouldn’t be where you are and who you are today without it, but … well, it kinda sucks having to go through it, if you don’t mind my saying so.”
“I wouldn’t say it’s right or wrong,” Grif told him. “I’d tell you that I appreciate the sentiment, but, in the end, you can’t know enough to have a solid viewpoint. And believe me, I mean that with the most sincerity. You’ve killed. You know what that’s like, but you’ve never seen your family die. You’ve never been on the other end of the torturer’s chair. By the Winds, I pray you never will. All I ask is you reserve judgement for whatever I or the others might do, because, until you know, you can never understand.”
“Well, I’ve done a pretty good job of that so far,” Vital said. Then he smiled timidly. “Think I could get a get out of jail free card, just in case?”
Pensword paused, before covering his muzzle with his wings. “If you can’t, I’ll do a jailbreak. After all, no prison has yet been built to hold the three of us.”
Grif chuckled, and pulled a few plastic bottles from his pack. “Well, everybody take one,” he said. When they each had one, and had opened the tops, he held his up. “Now here's to us! Who’s like us?”
Pensword grinned as he took a bottle, held it up, and Hammer Strike and Pensword joined Grif as they finished the phrase. “Damned few! And they're all dead!”
The trio laughed as they drained their bottles of root beer, walking through the street proudly, until they finally reached the house, where Vital proceeded to let loose a titanic belch. “Excuse me,” he muttered sheepishly.
Pensword held his ground for all of about five seconds, before breaking into a fit of laughter that faded to giggles. “That was good. Glad to see we are rubbing off on you.”
“Would you mind taking Button now, Vital? I have something I need to work on soon,” Hammer Strike said.
“Say no more, Hammer Strike.” Vital smiled as his horn glowed, surrounding the foal in his magic, before levitating the game master and his prize safely onto his back. “He’ll rest just fine in my room.”
“And I’ll make sure of it,” Spike promised.
“Good. I guess I will be waiting up for Lunar Fang and Fox Feather. They are not back yet. I wonder what they did for their bachelorette party,” Pensword mused.
“Probably went out on the town, got drunk, and went to a male strip club or something,” Grif said with a wink.
“Wait, they actually have those here?” Vital balked.
“I dunno, but it got a reaction.” Grif chuckled mirthfully. “I need to go arm up to do my rounds. Have a good night, Vital.” With that, Grif turned for the armory.
Vital yawned. “You know, one of these days, I really need to get back at him for all the times he’s pulled my leg. But for now, I think sleep is the best medicine.” He waved tiredly to his friends as he made his way through the main door, and toward the stairs. “Good night, guys.”
“Good night, Vital. I’ll see you later. I am going to stay up waiting for my family,” Pensword said as he headed for his own room on the ground floor. “Have Fun, Hammer Strike, and just, well ... have fun.”
True to the plans Rarity had drafted, the great hall had been positively filled to the brim with forge-themed props and decorations. Instead of the usual chairs, a standing area had been set up for the crowd to watch, while a miniature forge burned merrily on one side. Bins of various smithing materials had been set up around the room, along with work tables and crafting tools for the various stages of smithing, including a ring of anvils. Suits of armor lined the walls, interspersed between honor guards decked out in Hammer Strike’s most recent designs. The rafters had been positively covered in gossamer streamers and bunting. Nobles stood bedecked in all manner of armor ranging from light to heavy, decorative to hard core, each with their family’s colors and designs. The ladies in the room had been spared that particular burden, and instead wore the most luxurious dresses they could afford in an effort to look the part of the regal princess that the noble knights would inevitably sweep off their hooves to take to their halls for a night of romance and passion.
Unfortunately for them, their dresses were nowhere near what the bridesmaids had chosen. Somehow, on top of being fashionable, the dresses still retained a function that allowed for ease of movement, and included light plating to complement the dagger belts they had been given. Rarity dazzled the crowd in a diamond-encrusted blue silk dress. Her mane had been done up in a bun, and Seamripper lay on her back, ready for action at a moment’s notice. Sweetie Belle beamed from her place behind her sister in a plain white dress with a modest jewel collar. Button Mash blushed in his suit of armor as he escorted the ring bearer in her duties. He struggled to put on a stoic expression, even as he battled the constant yawns that tried to break through. After all, he had to look good to anyone that might be watching. It was rather comical, and cute, all in all.
Hammer Strike smiled as Rarity approached slowly down the aisle. Her wedding train was hardly noticeable, until the sunlight fell on it from the windows, revealing the strands of fabric Fluttershy’s spider friends had worked so hard to spin for the event. Naturally, they hadn’t told Rarity that. She was stressed enough already, after all.
The groom wore a glorified version of his usual jacket. The blue fabric and gold hemming had been augmented by a series of shimmering patterns Rarity had added into the fabric with the assistance of some sewing tricks and a bit of magic. Two golden epaulettes with silver tassels hung from his shoulders, and two glowing swords had been strapped to his back, the one a beautiful and elegant short sword with feathery metal wings for its crossguard. The scabbard was pure white ivory encircled by bands of steel and veined with mother of pearl inlay. The other sword pulsed an ugly red as its living eye rolled around, trying to get a fix on its environs, while uttering the occasional string of words that only Hammer Strike seemed to understand. The symbol of his house had also been dyed onto the back of the coat in white, outlined with silver thread, and, in homage to the first time they had met, he wore a white shirt and cravat that had been carefully pressed, and shone in the morning light.
The groomsmen smiled, each wearing their best ceremonial armor, even as the majority of them kept a watchful eye out for any potential threats. For their parts, Luna had chosen to wear her ursa armor in honor of Hammer Strike’s deeds and many contributions to Equestria. Celestia had chosen to maintain her usual regalia, but an added corona of sunlight shone around her head like a headdress, and one could barely make out the glint of metal within. If any assassins were to make an attempt on the sisters’ lives, they would likely be sorely disappointed before they died.
Princess Cadence had come in a simple gown with her crown and some few other ornamental pieces of jewelry. While the theme of the event had indeed been warrior-based, the queen knew that love also needed its place to be represented in the event. A small group of Changelings and nymphs hovered about the room near Me-Me, who had come bedecked in a simple forest-green dress that draped off her sides to trail along the floor like leaves dancing in the wind. Mutatio stood at her side, his thick chitinous armor imposing as ever with its ruby plating. His mandible-like extensions added to the imposing image he cast, even as he remained as close to his queen as convention would allow. In a curious turn of events, the two rulers happened to be standing side by side, two sides of the same coin. Each nodded in acknowledgement to the other as they waited for the event to begin. Behind these two stood the Duke and Duchess of Maretonia.
Twilight stood in the same royal regalia she had worn at her coronation, and smiled happily at her friend from her place next to the two princesses. Her crown shone brightly in the sunlight, casting little shards of light from the gems as she waited for the ceremony to begin.
Zecora stood side by side with the members of the Zebrican delegation, and smiled serenely in her brown leather tribal garb. A single green band twisted like a vine up her foreleg, while the gold bands clung to the other. A taller, more muscular Zebra stood next to her, wearing a unique helmet that let his mane jut outwards, while colored feathers curved to either side, proudly proclaiming the status of his office. A blue-and-white sash with a gold buckle had been strapped proudly over his chest as a small group of Zebras bedecked in war paint, and wielding assegai and the club-like rungu stood stoically around the pair.
Iron Will stood with the Minotaur delegation, wearing a ceremonial loincloth, pauldrons, and gold horn caps. Two larger bulls stood behind him, each dressed in similar garb, and carrying large rough-looking double-bladed battle axes. An identical pair of bulls stood at the back of the delegation. Between these four stood a large long-horned bull dressed in a rough-looking toga made from the hides of several animals. A large warhammer resembling a chunk of granite with a single piece of jade at its center rested on his back. Like the others, he also wore a pair of golden caps. However, these were jeweled, and a brass chain moved from both horn caps to connect to metal ring fixed in the brim of a leather cap he wore on his head. A single cow stood proudly beside him. She seemed to contrast his ruggedness with a refined appearance in her moss-green silken robe with gold filigree worked into the fabric in criss crosses. Her own small horns were capped by ivory caps with a gold ring around them. Several gold necklaces hung from her thick neck, each carrying a stone pendent with different markings. A petrified tree root that had been carved with a series of runes and sigils glowed a warm, gentle yellow in her hand.
Nanami stood next to her fellow warriors in flowing robes. Her sword sat easily at her side as she bowed her head gracefully. A glowing crystal hovered behind them, emitting a wreath of flames to reveal the aged face of Haku as he beamed at the happenings in the hall. The emperor and his wife smiled kindly, and nodded tolerantly towards the nobles and ladies as they looked out over the crowd to the couple. True to their station, each had been dressed in their most formal kimonos.
The nobles stood aghast at the group of tiny ponies who stood near the front of the hall, shoulder to shoulder, four ponies wide and four ponies deep. Each wore highly polished blocky steel armor. What caused the stir were the large flawless gemstones that shined in the plating. Star sapphires, fire rubies, thunder topaz, and frost diamonds all glittered and shone, emitting a gentle harmonic hum as they glowed. The frost diamonds alone were worth more than most noble treasuries held, yet, so far, whenever one spoke to ask where they had found such gorgeous gems, the response had always been, “Shh. Ah’m tryin’ to pay attention.” One noble had gotten too close, and the dwarf had somehow materialized a large shining axe in his hoof, and held it to the pony’s throat, until he backed off. The nobles watched from a distance after that.
Towards the back of the hall, a group of brown-furred creatures stood on their wide legs. Long hollow logs with wax around the end closest to their muzzles created a sound as ancient as their culture. Some continued to use their legs for support. Others laid back on their thick muscular tails, while a couple of koalas munched on leaves as they hung from the roos’ necks. Various dyes along their fur formed a series of symbols and shapes depicting the tales of their tribes and peoples.
The males wore loincloths and a strap of leather where boomerangs were stowed, while a few females had little joeys in their pouch that shook tiny rain sticks like rattles in accompaniment. A large stone sat in their midst with a fresh painting depicting an Alicorn with a strange hammer. An Earth Pony reached up, grabbing the other end of the hammer’s shaft, as if receiving it as a gift. The pair appeared to be in the bottom of a valley surrounded by five mountain peaks. Underneath that image, a Koala and Roo were both busy painting a stylized rendition of the wedding. The chief oversaw the performance as he folded his arms. Two elegant bronze arm bands emphasized the size of his biceps, and his tail ring glowed with a gentle light.
The dragon delegation was made up of just three dragons. Each were large, but not to the point where they couldn’t fit into the building. The main ambassador was a rippling blue dragoness with a lighter underbelly. She appropriately answered to the name Saphira. Her bodyguards were both smaller than she was. One was a rough scarred male with blood-red scales. His body was more rigid than Saphira's, and he answered to the name Throrn. The third was even smaller, with a lengthy frame. From a distance, his long green scales almost resembled grass blades across his body. His face was not so fierce as the other two, and held both the energy of youth and a certain air of wisdom.
Unseen at the back of the room, a figure stood cloaked in the corner. From what was seeable, most would simply assume it was a Gryphon, and, for some reason, no one could find the fact it was cloaked suspicious. Not even the princesses seemed able to look straight at the figure. It’s throaty purr didn’t seem all that strange. It just sat there, watching.
Several armed Gryphons stood at the ready, each bearing the imperial seal and dressed in centurion armor. Inside this armed barrier stood three notable figures. Brunhilda stood at the ready in her armor, but with her helmet off. Jorund Bloodfeather stood beside her, dressed with ceremonial pauldrons over a large blood-red suit showing his acting position as a delegate, rather than a soldier. Beside them both stood a small robin-housecat Gryphoness dressed in the flowing robes of a monk from the Monastery of Winds.
Hammer Strike’s special guard stood at attention with their fellows from Saddle Arabia. A large gabled litter with gauzy drapes sat in the center with its entry wide open to reveal a tall, somewhat portly white arabian stallion with a great turban over his head. A large blue sapphire had been set into the golden clip that held the headpiece together. A long, curly white beard had been carefully brushed, and braided to the sides with a series of golden loops holding them together. Two mares stood at either side of him, each bedecked in cloth saddles and highly polished leather bridles. Their manes had been carefully brushed and treated to hold the appearance of the trickling waters of an oasis. A saddle blanket with the royal insignia lay on each of their backs. All three nuzzled one another lovingly as they looked on.
Twilight took a deep breath as the pair approached the altar together, which had been made using a Luna class smithing anvil with an ornate cloth spread over its top. Two candelabras stood on either end with their candles burning brightly as the youngest Alicorn got up on a footstool that had been prepared specifically for the event. She nodded, and smiled at the gathering, before raising her wing to call for silence. Her horn glowed briefly, and a necklace with an amethyst core that she’d worn just for the occasion began to pulse with a gentle light. She opened her mouth, and her voice washed over the room, spreading to every corner in equal volume.
“Friends, family, gathered allies and acquaintances alike, we stand here today to bear witness to the binding of these two Ponies together in love. Love truly is a great power unlike any other. It manifests in so many ways within our lives: Love for our families, our parents, our siblings, or our children. And let us not forget love for our friends, for what is friendship but love to a lesser degree, and love for our mate? Thought to be the greatest expression of this power, it is known as fact that it was the love of the gods that led to the existence of Equis, and in some shape or form, every race, both those represented here today, and those who are not. In many ways love is like the flames of the forge that heat the metal, the anvil which supports the molding, and the hammer that provides the force. Believe me, the irony is not lost that a novice princess like myself should be the one to forge the bond for one of Equestria’s best craftsmen. Are you sure you wouldn’t rather be up here to handle it yourself, Hammer Strike?” This had the desired effect as good-natured laughter erupted from the crowd. When the laughter had died down, and Twilight had taken a moment to get her breathing under control, she continued.
“I was once told by Queen Cadence that love, true love, is the one chance any being, be they mortal or immortal, is given to craft one perfect creation. It is the melding of two opposites into a single whole, a partnership, a trust. It’s a little like balancing a fine crystal egg over a lake of lava, while large rocks rain down from the sky. Both parties need to take absolute care. One slip, a single miscalculated movement on one side, one person moving too fast or the other too slow, and the damage could be irreparable.” It was about this point spike cleared his throat, which was good, because it made Twilight look into the relatively large crowd of wide eyes staring at her. Twilight let out a nervous chuckle, and quickly moved to her next cue card. “Love is the gift Faust gave us to separate us from non-sapient beings. And so it brings me great pride to be able to join these two together today. Now, if anyone should object to this union, speak now or forever hold your peace.” The metallic click of sword upon sword being slid an inch out of their sheaths echoed through the hall. “... Most likely in the afterlife.” When no one spoke, the weapons returned to their places.
She turned to Hammer Strike. “Do you, Lord Hammer Strike, take Duchess Rarity Belle to be your lawfully wedded companion, to share in her joys and her sorrows, to safeguard and cherish her as long as you both shall live?”
“I do.”
“And do you, Duchess Rarity Belle, Element of Generosity, take Lord Hammer Strike to be your lawfully wedded companion, to share in his joys and sorrows, to safeguard and cherish him as long as you both shall live?”
Rarity stared dreamily into Hammer Strike’s eyes as she fixed him with full power of her most seductive stare. “Unequivocally,” she said as she blinked her long eyelashes at her lover and soon-to-be-husband.
“You may give the rings,” Twilight said, and all eyes fell on Sweetie Belle and Button Mash.
Button Mash gave a stalwart salute to Sweetie Belle as he brought his legs together at attention, causing the young filly to smile, and barely stifle a giggle as she pulled out a small casket, and opened it to present the rings to the pair. The bands were made from gold, and had been etched with a simple message: Together Forever. Hammer Strike reached into the box to take the one for Rarity, and slid it gently onto her horn. Then Rarity levitated the second ring to Hammer Strike, and looped a simple metal chain through it, before tying it around his neck to display proudly on his chest.
“Then by the power vested in me by Faust, Sleipnir, and the kingdom of Equestria, I hereby pronounce you Mare and Colt. You may kiss the bride,” Twilight finished with a smile. “After you sign the marriage certificate, of course,” she noted as she held up the slip of paper between the two lovers. Naturally, this got a laugh from just about anyone and everyone who knew even an inkling about Twilight.
The two didn’t even bother to look as they dipped their hooves into an inkwell, and slammed them onto the paper, even as they engaged in their celebratory kiss. A collective cheer filled the room as the couple were finally wed, and the sound of fireworks going off rang outside, while miniature sets of enchanted fireworks went off in the rafters to shower the room with magic sparkles that disappeared soon after making contact with the floor.
“Now let’s party!” Pinkie screamed as she zipped over to the side of the room, where Vinyl and Octavia were both waiting by a work table whose cover was quickly torn off, before revealing the sound equipment that had been hidden underneath. “Hit it, girls!”
“She does know traditionally people wait until after the march from the altar, before people party, right?” Grif asked.
“Has Hammer Strike ever been one to follow traditions?” Vital countered.
“He supposedly wrote most of them.” Grif shrugged.
“I’m guessing those rules wouldn’t happen to have a Pinkie clause in them, would they?”
“I guess. Anyway, you guys might as well head for the reception. I need to check in,” Grif said as he took wing.
Vital shrugged. “Well, boys, I guess we should let the lovers be, and get to the reception, then. If I’m lucky, maybe I won’t have to give the best man’s speech,” he said with a chuckle.
“Maybe, but I doubt it,” Pensword said with a mischievous smirk. “I’ll see you all at the reception.” With that, he took wing, and flew to join in the festivities.
“Eeyup,” Big Mac agreed with a playful wink, before he made his way onto the dance floor to join Little Willow.
“You’re pretty much doomed,” Spike agreed, “but if Twilight could do it, then you should be able to handle it no sweat.” He smiled, and patted Vital Spark on one of his forelegs. “See ya later, Vital. I’m gonna see about getting me a slice of that cake.” He licked his lips, and began to skillfully bob and weave through the crowd between the legs of Ponies and delegates alike.
Vital Spark sighed, and shook his head. “Oy vey,” he grumbled as he pulled nervously at his necktie.
“The great and powerful Trrrixie comes to your rescue, it seems,” a voice spoke up beside him as he turned to see the mare in a black-and-white swirled gown holding two pieces of cake on separate plates.
Vital chuckled as he levitated one of the plates to hover next to him. “That depends. Do you think you could help me to put together a slamming speech without making a fool of myself? I mean, it’s one thing to plan a bachelor party. It’s another to have to speak about a lord I’ve only known for a short period of time, relatively speaking.”
“Unfortunately, Trixie’s powers are limited,” she said with a disappointed tone that Vital Spark just missed.
“Says the mare with the power to fuse light and dark. If you’re powerless, then I’m a Diamond Dog.” He smiled kindly at her. “Besides, if I make a fool of myself, I doubt Hammer Strike will mind.” He chuckled. “I guess I’m just nervous about disappointing myself.” He immediately proceeded to fork a piece of cake into his mouth, and he sighed contentedly. “I don’t think I’ll ever get over just how delicious everything tastes here.”
“Is it really that bad over there?” she asked.
“Not bad. Food here just tastes better is all.” Vital shrugged. “I don’t know if it’s the larger amount of manna flow, or the fact you still all use natural organic means for your cooking and farming. Whatever the reason, though, I definitely enjoy it.” He chuckled. “Let’s just say sugary treats like this are a guilty pleasure of mine.”
“Well then, Trixie hopes we will be able to find more for you to enjoy amongst this crowd.” Trixie laughed as she turned to the swarmed table.
“Slow down there, Trixie,” Vital laughed as he followed after her. “The night’s still plenty young. Let’s let everyone else get their share, too. Besides, this is Hammer Strike and Rarity’s big night. We should probably get ready for their dance. Seeing as I’m the best stallion, I just happen to have one of the best seats in the house, if you’d care to join me. We can talk shop while we wait.”
“Why, are you asking Trixie to be your date, Vital?” Trixie asked with a giggle.
Vital blushed. “Um, that is, I err–.” He cleared his throat. “Yes? As friends,” he clarified. “That’s not … too awkward or anything, is it?” he asked sheepishly.
“No, no, it’s fine,” Trixie said. “Lead the way.” She managed to hide her disappointment, until he took the lead.
Elsewhere in the room, Rarity turned to face her beloved as they finished their slices of cake. “Well now, Mister Strike,” she said as she stroked his face gently with a hoof, “are you ready for our dance?”
“I certainly am,” he replied as he held out his hoof. “Shall we?”
“I do believe we shall.” Rarity allowed herself a girlish giggle as the two made their way out onto the dance floor, and a space was cleared for the couple to follow a tradition as old as weddings themselves. One could say it was a tale as old as time as the music began to rise, and the pair took their positions. The dance that followed was slow, graceful, and left not a dry eye in the hall as the two drew near for another kiss, while the music closed.
Vital wished he could give a thumbs up to Octavia for the arrangement, but, for now, a simple nod and a smile would have to suffice. He did so, and then returned his attentions to Trixie as the next set of music began to play. Then he rose from his chair, and extended a hoof. “I know I’ve got the clumsiest set of hooves on the planet, and I’m likely to leave you in the medical wing, should you accept, but would you care to have this dance?”
“Trixie would be delighted,” the mare responded with a small bow, before letting herself be led onto the dance floor. Many more couples soon followed.
Pensword and Lunar Fang were amongst the dancers, and he couldn’t help but laugh into her mane, before pulling back to talk to her. “What is the deal with songs being from that company?” he asked with a smirk. “The same company that played our song just played the first dance song for Hammer Strike and Rarity.”
“Perhaps the best stallion thought to take a note from the playbook of a certain meddling Gryphon?” she suggested with an amorous smile.
“True. And if so, it makes the songs all the more beautiful and special,” Pensword replied. “I hope you don’t mind my sharing half the dances with Fox Feather,” he added hastily. The slight change in his expression was all she needed to know that Matthew had spoken that last part.
Lunar Fang couldn’t help but laugh. “Oh, my silly little human,” she said, before kissing him on the cheek. “She’s part of the family, too. Of course you should dance with her.”
“This still feels strange, my little Thestral,” he responded with a grin. “Still, thank you for putting up with a very old war Pony,” he finished whispering as they danced.
Meanwhile, on the roof of the castle, Grif landed on the final tower. He’d finished most of the checks, and Gilda would be returning soon with her report on the rest. The bodies of a few dozen assassins had been disposed of over the side of the cliff. He perched, whistling It’s a fabulous night for a moondance as he waited for her.
As pre-arranged, Gilda flew in, and landed on the roof behind him. “My sector is clear. We had only three who got out of line, but they’re all taken care of. We’re waiting for the Canterlot Guard to record their IDs, before we dump the bodies.”
“Casualties?” Grif asked.
“Sprained wings on two newbies. They’ll be ground-bound for two weeks. That’s all, thank the Winds.”
Grif nodded. “You did well tonight, Gilda. I’m going to be relying on you a lot more now.” He gave her a smile. “But as things stand, I’m pretty sure you’ve probably got a tom somewhere waiting to take you skydancing on a night like tonight.”
“Skydancing, Sir?” Gilda asked.
“You know, skydancing? You’re telling me you’ve never skydanced before?” Grif seemed rather shocked as his eyes widened, and his green crest feathers stood on end.
“Uh, no, not really. The Pegasus camps didn’t really focus on that too much when I went to flyer school, and I’ve mostly been on the road since. I’ve been more worried about my next meal.”
Grif blinked a couple of times. He looked to the main hall, where the party was going on inside, then at Gilda. ‘I suppose the girls would forgive me a dance,’he thought to himself. He held a talon out to her. “Well let me show you.”
Gilda paused. “Uh, aren't we still on duty, Sir?” she replied, even as he reached to take the talon, albeit somewhat hesitantly.
“You're only on duty so long as I say you are,” he told her with a smile as he grabbed her talons, and pulled her into the air. The moon shone down on the two as they danced through the air currents amongst the sea of stars to the unheard music of the spheres.
It was close to a half hour later when the lights dropped suddenly, and a spotlight centered on the small stage at the front of the grand hall. Pinkie smiled down at the crowd as a curtain descended to cover the space behind her, though no one could explain what suspended it.
“So, everypony, in honor of Rarity and Hammer Strike’s wedding, I’ve managed to book a super extra extra special surprise for everybody!” She was practically bouncing in all her excitement. “Where does he come from? No one knows. You would not believe how hard it was to book him, but ladies and gentlemen, for tonight only, in a special comeback appearance, Blue Eyes and the Rat Pack!”
The curtain pulled back, revealing several musicians wearing uniform fedoras. A familiar music instantly filled the hall as Pinkie vanished, and the microphone did several flips in the air as a blackbird-panther Gryphon wearing a black felt fedora with dual grey rings swept in to catch it in his talons. He opened his beak, and, in a smooth deep voice, belted out, “Fly me to the moon . ..”
The reaction from the crowd was instantaneous. People cheered loudly, and a few mares swooned as the dance floor was quickly occupied. As the song finally tapered out, the Gryphon smiled to the crowd. “Hello, everybody. I did a show in Ponyville a little under a year ago, and then I hear everybody's looking for me. What, did I forget to pay my tab or something?” The joke wasn’t all that funny, and yet the way in which the Gryphon voiced it seemed to get people chuckling. “But seriously, everybody, I heard about how this couple was getting married. I heard the gal was some sort of hero, saved a bunch of lives and everything, and then I heard she was marrying Hammer Strike! Well, I immediately says to my bartender, ‘now, Bob.’ His name’s Bob. I says, ‘hey, Bob, how’s a mook like that get a babe like her?’” Rarity’s blushing reaction elicited more giggles. “Anyway, everybody, we’re here to celebrate a beautiful marriage for a beautiful couple, and I’m going to sing a little song with the help of my amazing, swell gang of gals and pals here. Let's get a round of applause, and/or stomps for the band, folks!”
The grand hall shook with the resounding response, and the band members each nodded their appreciation. “So who here has been to Zebrica? Zebrica, anybody? No, not you. You’re the Zebra delegation, wise guy. We know you're from Zebrica. Anyway, this song was taught to me by a young Zebra I met in my travels. Apparently, in Zebrica, there is a place, a magical place all couples should go, a wonderful, magical place called … Upendi.”
Pensword shook his head, but at the prompting of Lunar Fang and Fox Feather, the three of them took to the air to dance, and leave room for others on the floor. The three proceeded to engage in an aerial performance that was a mixture of flight and dance in a manner of courting as ancient as their cultures.
“You know, Trixie, it’s funny. I grew up with this song,” Vital said with a smile. “The word is based on a language from back home. I suppose the word must have carried over to this world, too.”
“Oh?” Trixie asked. “And what is the meaning of this mysterious word?”
Vital chuckled. “It’s one of the most powerful magic words of all, but it can only work if the feeling behind it exists in both halves.”
“And would you be willing to share that power with Trixie?” the mare asked.
“Let me whisper it in your ear,” Vital said. Then a sudden blush rushed to his cheeks. ‘Whisper in her ear? What are you thinking?’ he thought to himself.
‘Yes, yes, yes, yes!’ Trixie screamed in her mind as she leaned in at his invitation.
Vital gulped as he moved in close to her ear, and was hit by the sweet and spicy scent in her mane. His heart began to pound as beads of sweat formed on his brow. His mouth felt dry as he smacked his lips, and tried to swallow. ‘Keep it together, man. Keep it together.’ “It means. . ..” His throat didn’t want to move. He swallowed again, and cleared it. “It means love,” he whispered.
Trixie’s cheeks were scarlet as she went to pull back, when, suddenly, another Pony bumped her shoulder, and the two were suddenly knocked muzzle to muzzle in a kiss. For that one moment, it was an accident, but Trixie recovered it almost immediately, and seized the opportunity for all it was worth as she leaned into the kiss. Vital Spark’s eyes widened, but his legs wouldn’t move. His horn sparked, and his bowtie began to spin of its own accord as red rapidly consumed his face.
The song ended just as the two separated, and more applause and stomping echoed through the stadium. Blue Eyes held up his talons, nodding appreciatively to the crowd. “Thank you, everybody. Now I want to say something about marriage. That's what we came for here tonight, isn’t it, marriage?” He used one talon to indicate quiet, when the crowd cheered in approval. “So, Mrs. Blue Eyes likes to say that marriage is like a battlefield. When I got out of the hospital, she realized she may need to re-think that mindset. But the important thing is, my friends, that you need to enjoy the positive.” As he spoke, the band began again. “Some might even say you even need to Ac-Cent-TcHu-ATe the positive. . ..” The song’s beat was slower than the other two, but the crowd soon found the rhythm, and the dance floor thrummed with life again. The Gryphon crooned it out smoothly as he made use of the stage to strut, while signaling to different guests or winking at random mares who would faint. He ended the song with a bit of a drag on the last note.
“Well, ladies and gentlemen, you’ve been a great audience tonight, but, unfortunately, it’s almost time for me to fly.” There were more than a few awws and boos from the audience. “Hey, hey. None of that. I’m a free bird, see? I come for a while, and sing. Then I fly away. If you’re nice to me, I might come back, and sing some more. If you scare me, you might never see me again, and then what? The Pegasus over there knows what I’m talking about.” There was a thump as Fluttershy fainted outright. Angel Bunny glared from the sea of faces as he tried to revive her. “But before I go, I just want to tell you all that you make me feel young!” Much like his entrance, he sang this song bombastically in smooth, deep, fluid tones, while dancing around the stage to the entertainment of the crowd. The band played a little past the final note as the Gryphon’s voice carried out into the crowd. “Good night, everybody. You’ve been a wonderful audience.” He tossed his fedora into the crowd, only to have it caught by a certain Thestral filly as he vanished in a cloud of black feathers.
“That guy sure can sing, huh?” Grif said to pensword from a spot beside him on one of the rafters, where he had not been last time Pensword looked. He was holding a large piece of cake and a fork, which he quickly used to the fullest advantage.
“Why do you have to do your speed indoors? It scares Ponies,” Pensword replied, even as he struggled to maintain his composure. “Grif…” he paused, and his eyes narrowed. “That is two for two,” he muttered as he eyed the Gryphon suspiciously. Yet he didn’t look the same. And no matter how fast Grif may have been, he wasn’t fast enough to remove the makeup that would be required for the disguise, grab the slice of cake, and start eating it, while arriving at the rafter mere seconds after the singer had left. He shook his head. Maybe he’d tackle this mystery later, when he was done rebuilding the military. Besides, why ruin the fun of the party? Naturally, Matthew wasn’t too pleased with that reasoning, but he couldn’t deny Pensword had a point, considering this was meant to be Hammer Strike and Rarity’s big day. Lunar Fang and Fox Feather would never let him hear the end of it, if he did something to disrupt it.
Grif chuckled as he made his way through the crowd to Trixie and Vital, who were currently doing that telling not-look-at-each-other thing people do when they’ve just kissed for the first time. “Well now, hello to the two love birds,” he chuckled.
Vital blushed all the more. “Shut up, Grif.”
“Well then, if you can separate yourself from Madam Great and Powerful for a minute, I need to speak to you alone.” Grif motioned for him to follow with a wing.
Vital looked somewhat nervously back at Trixie. “Um, do you mind? It’ll just be a minute … I think.”
“Trixie will be waiting.” She smiled at him, even as she lowered her head demurely to stare through the curl in the front of her mane.
“I’ll, uh … be right back,” Vital said as he forcibly put a hoof up to his bowtie to prevent a repeat of the incident from just a few minutes earlier. He hastily followed the Gryphon to a smaller side door, and watched as he passed through, before entering and closing the door behind. A silent corridor yawned out into the shadows of evening. The torches had yet to light themselves, so the pair were in relative darkness and seclusion with little to no risk of being discovered. “What’s this all about, Grif?”
“I spotted it about forty minutes ago in the south, a large cloud formation lacking any signs of a storm. It will likely stop four miles or so outside of Canterlot, and linger there for a while. You need to be up before dawn. Can you do that?”
“I’ll make it happen,” Vital promised as the import of the words Grif uttered dropped on him like a bucket of ice water.
“It’s likely the amount of love in the castle tonight drew her in, but she’ll be gone before noon. Most importantly, you can’t tell anyone, especially any Gryphons. I’m taking you to see something only two of my own people have seen in almost six hundred years. No outsider has ever seen her before. You understand what this could cause, if it got out?”
“I would assume mass political and theological upheaval the likes of which Daedalus can’t really afford to have right now, and would probably give you a bit of a headache in your own compound. Don’t worry, Grif. I won’t tell anyone, if you don’t want me to. Though Clover does know that I intend to try meeting with the lady of love to help the egg hatch. I don’t want the egg to die, and I don’t think she would want it to either.”
“Get a cloud walking charm from the arcanium. Tell them it’s classified, and flash them this lunar seal,” he said as he tossed an intricate silver medallion into the Unicorn’s hooves. Meet me in the courtyard, and think of Trixie while we’re in the air.”
“Grif!” Vital whined.
“I’m not teasing.” Grif leveled a cold stare at him. “She is the lady of love: puppy, carnal, paternal, maternal, fraternal, sisterly, or any other kind. She guards the balance that all living things find true connection in. The last time she was tempted near enough to speak with her, Shiral and I had just celebrated our honeymoon in the middle of a typhoon. The more feelings of love you put out, no matter what kind it is, the easier this goes. Look, Vital, I’m happy for you. And, honestly, I hope this all works out. But trust me, fear is not the way to go right now, so you grab those feelings you’ve been having tonight, and you hang on to them for everything they’re worth, understand?”
Vital gulped. “I, uh … don’t think that’ll be too much of a problem.”
“Cheer up, bud. You just kissed a pretty young mare, and tomorrow you're going to see something Hammer Strike himself is unlikely to ever lay eyes on. So have some fun, get some sleep, and I’ll see you in the morning.” Grif clapped Vital on the shoulder, and squeezed gently. “Now I have to go make the love coming from this place even stronger. You get back with Trixie, and have the time of your life.” And with that, he left the passage.
Vital Spark shook his head, and sighed. “Bad day,” he muttered in a forced Chinese accent, then chuckled to himself. “Nah, probably not the best phrase to use in this situation. I think I’ll go with the good old Charlie Brown standby. Good grief!” he said as he looked up to the dark ceiling, before chuckling to himself, and making his way back through the door to the party, and the waiting Trixie. He absently levitated two punch cups as he made his way over. If this really was going to turn into a proper date, then he might as well act the proper gentleman.
Extended Holiday Ch 117: Wake me … When you Need me Act 17
Vital stared back out over the sleeping city of Canterlot as the sun began to peak over the mountains. The cool, fluffy sensation of the clouds beneath his hooves left his fur feeling moist, but not entirely damp as he worked to get his bearings on the new surface. The egg hung from its pouch on his side as the vapors of the cloud mixed with the cool mist from the egg’s radiant icy shell.
“Are you ready?” Grif asked he stood. For the first time in Vital’s memory, his friend wore neither weapons nor armor. He was totally exposed, standing on the clouds before a large archway.
“No, but as a famous lion once said, that’s usually a good sign that you are,” Vital said nervously. “We should probably get going, before I lose my nerve.”
Grif nodded, and stepped forward, making sure to keep a step ahead of his friend as, for the second time in his life, he entered the vast chamber filled with birds of every color and variety, each with a mate next to it, all singing softly in birdsong. Unlike last time, he noticed a few actually sung to him directly, as if some change in his life had changed their judgement of him. He cooed back gently in return, before turning to the Bird of Paradise, and lowering his beak.
Vital stared up at the thousands of mated couples as they each stared down at him. Some cocked their heads, others simply ignored him, and one or two let out a few curious trills as he stood nervously, and rubbed his hooves together. The great bird herself was a truly magnificent sight. Her feathers seemed to radiate a gentle light in every color of the rainbow, and her eyes emanated a kindness and wisdom born from a mother’s love blended with the fierce protective instinct of one who would protect what she holds dear. Her great head feathers arched backwards to flow down her back as her tail feathers spread outwards to drape the floor of the cloud structure. Vital gulped as he did his best to remember Gaia’s advice about talking to deities, while simultaneously doing his best to follow Grif’s advice, even as those emotions of uncertainty, worry, and impulsiveness from the previous night raged through his system. In short, he felt like a tattered mess.
“Hmm. Potential. It has a spice to it, and a thrilling bouquet, but I feel as though these feelings still need to age.” The voice spoke to him, through him, from him, all around him. He heard it inside his head and out. He felt it in his bones and in his chest. “Do not fear, child. None of your like have ever graced my presence. I find you interesting.”
“Um … thank you,” Vital managed to stutter. “I know this is a tad unusual, but these are somewhat unusual circumstances,” he said as he locked his magic around the egg’s pouch, and levitated it into the air, being careful to maintain a thin envelope to protect his horn from the cold the shell exuded. “I … believe this is supposed to be one of your children, if what Grif tells me is true. He or she was found abandoned on a mountain in Neighpon. I’ve been trying to figure out how to help it hatch, but none of us has a clue, since cryophoenixes are so rare. I was able to keep it alive, but barring that, I don’t know what more can be done.”
“You would risk so much for something not yet even born?” she asked him.
“I was raised to believe all life is precious, especially the innocent. Back home … well, I won’t tell you some of the things people have done, but suffice it to say, it’s helped me to value the potential an unborn child can have, if that makes any sense.” He sighed. “Sorry. The emotions are … complicated, to say the least.”
“Complicated is who I am,” she said, before laughing in deep melodic tones. “You have done well. The egg is healthy, and the chick is nearly ready. However, there is still what remains.” Feathers appeared in the air as wind filled the chamber. They danced and waltzed through the space, then, ever so slowly, drew together. Their stems flattened and softened as the feathers melded into a blanket that shone much like herself. “This blanket would ensure the egg remains cold enough to shatter when the time comes, for that is how cryophoenixes hatch; they shatter their own eggs. This blanket will provide you with what you need.”
“And what would you have of me in return?” Vital asked. “Grif tells me I must make an offering, but I don’t know what you could possibly want, or even need, from someone like me,” he said truthfully.
“I need nothing, except love,” the voice returned, laughing again. “But one such as you is an oddity. For ice you are, and so commonly ice does align with my brother, allowing only for cold and cruelty. To be ice and to not be cold. It is a curious precipice.” She cocked her head in thought for a time, then fixed her gaze on him once again. “Very well, I have decided. For this blanket, I will accept nothing less than love. You will take my blanket, and you will take my mark. When the time finally comes for you to have a family, you will make it a large family, and you will fill it with love and all that springs from it. This is my price.”
“Your mark? Like a tattoo?” Vital asked uncertainly.
“It is not so different than what you already have. I will alter your destiny sigil, and place my own mark within it. It will not harm you, and it will not be so different from what you have.”
Vital looked worriedly at his cutie mark. “There’s … something else you may want to know before we agree to this, Ma’am,” he said respectfully. “I’m not exactly your average Pony. That is to say, this form isn’t the one I was born in. A spell allows me to shift between the forms freely. I wanted to warn you, so there isn’t any risk of crossing wires, so to speak.”
“You speak of … magic, the Pony manipulation of aura, yes? I am not of the aura. I do not have this magic. I do not work by these spells. I shall attach my mark to you from the point when your mark came into existence. To all but the three of us, it will have always been present on you.”
Vital Spark gaped. “You can actually do that?”
“My mother was a goddess, young Pony. There is little I cannot do, less still after a feast such as I had last evening. The emotion then was sweet, finely aged, mixed with newly minted. Many pairs found their mate. Others rekindled old passion. Many chicks were conceived last night. I have grown fat from the power that is within me now.”
Vital gulped as he considered the demi-deity’s words, including the impact of the offer. To make a pact such as this would allow the new life to enter this world, and give him the opportunity to raise the chick to the best of his ability. It would also look pretty cool to have a phoenix as a familiar and friend, once he’d raised it. On the other side, this was essentially a covenant to be formed with a separate deity. It would go against just about everything he had been taught since birth with regards to loyalty to the god he had chosen to serve. It could lead to some very serious consequences back home. He closed his eyes, and sighed as he lowered his head for a few minutes as his brows furrowed in deep thought. Finally, he nodded his head, raised it, and opened his eyes again. “All right; I’ll accept.”
“Very good.” In a rustle of feathers, a large piece of parchment covered in bird foot language with a dark creepy-looking quill floating beside it appeared. “Now, if you would sign in your own blood, please.”
Vital deadpanned. “Seriously?”
She laughed “Forgive me. I saw how you feared I would request something more personal, and dark images of you signing a similar scroll with a dark looming figure came to the forefront.” The scroll fell apart into feathers as she leaned forward and, in a single fluid motion, pecked his flank. There was no injury, but it still stung as, on either side of his flanks, the shimmering silhouette of the Bird of Paradise appeared in the background with its tail and crest feathers billowing in an invisible breeze. After a moment, the marks solidified, and the blanket folded itself and moved into his saddlebags beside the egg pouch. “I am satisfied with you. However–” her gaze turned to Grif “–you must still pay the toll for bringing him across the threshold. I allowed it before, because it was your mate, but you brought him here this time with a full knowledge. And despite your good intentions, I must require payment.”
Grif had figured this would happen, and lowered his gaze in submission. “What must I do, my lady?”
“How many directions?”
“Uh, four?” Grif asked, confused.
“How many of me and my siblings?”
“Four,” Grif answered again.
“How many winds?”
Four.”
“What is the imperfect number?”
“Three … oh.” Grif’s eyes widened slightly as something clicked.
“Four is perfection, and four it shall be,” she said with a nod. “Your penance is set. You may leave, Avatar.”
“Of course, my lady,” Grif said with a quick about face. He looked at vital, and gestured it was time to go, before heading out the arch.
Vital levitated the egg back into the satchel, and bowed to the mother of phoenixes. “Thank again you for your help, Ma’am. I’ll do my best to care for the chick, when it hatches, and to fulfill my promise. I’m a man of my word.” With that said and done, he left through the arch, and let loose an explosive sigh as his legs began to tremble while he approached his friend.
“She’s quite an experience isn’t she?” Grif asked.
“Let’s just say I feel a lot like I did after a massive spiritual exertion back home,” Vital replied. “I feel both warm and cold all over at once.”
“I hope you really like foals.” Grif chuckled as he laid down to let his friend get secured.
“Or kids. She never said I had to have foals, just that I had to have lots of children,” Vital countered.
Considering you’re doting on two different mares, I’d say foal is currently the safer bet,” Grif teased. “You did good, but keep an eye on that blanket, and tell no one where it came from. Relics have a tendency to vanish, even in as trustworthy a place as New Unity.”
“You know, if I weren’t nearly exhausted, and didn’t need you for the return flight, I’d smack you so hard right now.”
Grif hopped off the cloud, and spread his wings, gliding on a gradual downward incline towards the courtyard.
“Say, Grif?”
“Grif.”
“You know that was a question, not a command, Grif,” Vital growled. “But, since you’re in such a compliant mood, why don’t you explain about what she meant with the imperfect number?”
“You know how seven means perfection for Christians back home?” Grif asked in Draconic, “and six is imperfect, because it’s so close to seven, but incomplete? In Gryphon religion, we have four gods, four embodiments of those gods, four directions, so Gryphons see four as perfect. And what's one down from four?”
“Three.”
“I’m married to Avalon and Shrial. I’m engaged to Genevive. How many wives does that make?”
“Three.”
“So, according to her, if I want to be forgiven, I need to find another girl.”
In a moment that would remain forever branded on Grif’s memory, Vital’s eyes widened, and he uttered a phrase that, until quite recently, had been solely Grif’s. “Nani?”
Grif chuckled. “So that’s how it feels to watch it,” he said as they touched down in their house’s courtyard. The large cloud formation that they glided from began to glow and shimmer as the breeze carried faint traces of avian song and music. It shone in the colors of the rainbow, and colors that had no words, before a giant rainbow that would outgun any produced by Cloudsdale shot from the top of the cloud formation, and headed South over the castle, passing by the windows of the Newlyweds, and those reaffirming their love to their wives, before continuing on as the clouds slowly faded from the eyes of Grif and Vital. Vital had a sinking feeling that next time he would see this formation would be at his wedding, and it wouldn’t matter which world it happened on.
Rarity gaped at the veritable mountain of gift boxes, packages, and bags that had been stacked so artfully in Canterlot’s main square that they completely obscured the statue of Celestia that had been built there. Ponies from all over Equestria and the Crystal Empire had come to witness the event, and wish the lovers well in their futures. Celestia and Luna stood on either side of the pile with Twilight, Shining Armor, Cadence, the element bearers, and Rarity’s parents. A veritable swarm of Ponies crowded around the square’s many intersecting streets, trying to catch of glimpse of the couple, and perhaps get a quote or two for an article.
“It’s … this is. Well, I don’t know what to say,” Rarity said as a heavy blush rose to her cheeks. “There are so many.”
“Why not start with your teacher?” Grif asked as he handed her a small box wrapped in emerald green paper with a silver bow. “I’m sorry, Hammer Strike, but I couldn’t find anything for you, so it’s just a gift for the bride.”
“That’s perfectly fine,” Hammer Strike replied with a smile.
Rarity undid the bow in her magic, and raised the lid of the box to reveal several long pieces of fire-hardened darkwood, all carefully carved to a point. The tips were coated in ebony, giving them a needle sharpness capable of piercing most mail. They thickened the higher up the wood one went, and flattened out with carefully carved facets. At the top of each lay a single piece of blue crystal in the shape of a diamond, not unlike one of the diamonds on her cutie mark.
“Oh, Grif,” Rarity gasped. “They’re beautiful!” She rushed up to hug his neck, even as she held the gift in her telekinetic grip. “Thank you.”
“They’re also useful,” Grif said as he plucked one of the pins out of the box. He tossed it towards a pillar, and it buried itself inside it. “Ritan,” Grif said. Instantly, the hairpin vanished from the pillar, and appeared in the box amongst the others.
“Does it call them back to the box, or back to me?” Rarity asked curiously.
“It returns to the last place it was stationary for more than two seconds,” Grif explained. “In this case, it would be your mane.”
“And what if I can’t say the word before the time limit is up?”
“Oh no, I should have spoken more clearly. After they’re thrown, they’ll wait for the command indefinitely.”
“Clever. Very clever,” Rarity said with a smile. Then she kissed the Gryphon on the cheek. “Thank you, Grif.” She closed the box, and laid it next to Hammer Strike. “So who next, then?” she asked. “The way these boxes are stacked, I get the feeling we’ll be at this all morning.”
“Agreed,” Hammer Strike replied.
The newly wed couple were presented with a matching pair of fine silver goblets studded with blood rubies from the Gryphon delegation, in the name of His Holiness, Emperor Daedalus the First, long may he fly.
“This next one is from me. Clover gave me some help designing the runes for the enchanting, but I was able to finish the job using my magic … mostly.” Vital chuckled nervously as his horn ignited, and a very familiar couch floated out from behind the pile. “We thought we’d add a few features, since you liked the spa so much. Now it has climate control settings. Just press the ruby or the sapphire that’s been embedded in the frame to make it warmer or colder for you to help soothe your muscles and ease tension. We also enchanted the cushions to give you a basic rubdown, should you need it. It’s not the same as Lotus and Aloe’s hooves, and definitely not the same as Bulk Biceps, but we hope you’ll enjoy it anyways. It seemed the best option, given how much you love to carry it with you.”
“Oh, Vital Spark.” Rarity wiped a tear from the edge of her eye, and sniffled. “It’s beautiful.”
Vital Spark blushed. “You can thank Clover, then. She’s the one who helped me with the research.”
“I will. Where is she, anyways?” Rarity asked as she looked about the clearing.
In the very very back, sitting at a small wooden table, Clover smiled as she took another slug of cider from her stein.
Vital chuckled. “She’s around here somewhere. Though it looks like Pensword wants to present next,” he said as he pointed behind the mare to where the commander stood in a newly pressed dress uniform. His mane had been carefully styled for the event, and shone brightly in the sunlight in contrast to his dark blue coat. Lunar Fang and Fox Feather flanked him with equally wide grins, and Moon River giggled atop Pensword’s back as the three young colts stood in the front with Day Moon in the center, and his brothers on either side.
Pensword smiled as Lunar Fang fetched two items from the pile: a long rectangular box covered in gift wrappings, and another smaller wooden box that had been painted an olive-green. He continued to smile as Rarity used her magic to open the larger of the two packages. “For any game nights you might have. I have a feeling you might just have the skill to beat Hammer Strike. Also, this is a limited first edition. Congratulations, Rarity. You are the proud owner of the very first copy of Equestrian Defense.”
The board game started by Matthew, Twilight, and Spike had finally been finished, and fully furnished with a map of the world, and a list of races ranging from Dragons to Ponies to Changelings, Minotaurs, and Kitsune. “Mind you, this special edition was used with some common metals owned by Lord Hammer Strike, so enjoy.”
“Oh, what a charming little game,” Rarity gushed. “I think I remember when Matthew first talked about this. What do you think, darling, should we try to play a round later?”
“Definitely,” Hammer Strike agreed as his usual neutral expression widened into a smile.
Pensword watched as Rarity lowered the gift, and shifted her attentions to the wooden box. She opened it with a curious expression that quickly grew confused when she pulled out a simple scroll. Curiosity soon turned to astonishment as she perused the contents, before gently lowering it to stare at the commander and his family. “Pensword, darling, I am grateful for the sentiment behind this, but shouldn’t you be holding a bid for this sort of thing?”
Pensword glowered. “Because of some items that landed on my desk this morning, I am exercising my right as Equestrian Commander to pick the designer for the dress uniforms. Let it be known that Lady Rarity shall be our top uniform design consultant for decades to come. Her clothing shall be known as not just the best garments for nobility, but also the best military uniforms in all of Equis,” Pensword announced with finality. “Anypony got a problem with that?” Several fashion designers and nobles shifted nervously in the background, but otherwise remained silent. “Congratulations, Lady Rarity. You now officially have the contracts for all branches of the military.” He smirked in satisfaction as he watched the faces of several nobles and fashionistas alike fall. Rarity held the contract high, revealing the seals of Pensword, Princess Luna, and that of the new Lunar Court’s militia.
The Minotaur delegation approached with a slow, deliberate pace. The guards and lead bull followed two steps behind the cow as she approached them. “Many wishes of good fortune and happiness to you on this day, my child.” She bowed her head to Rarity. “You have picked a very fine mate.”
“Thank you, Lady Shamaness. It is an honor to have one of the Priestesses of the great Earth Mother here to witness our union,” Rarity returned.
“Amongst my people, it is tradition that a gift be practical as well as valuable to a new couple,” the cow explained as she waved her free hand. Yellow mist emanated from her staff, and gathered into her hand, forming a dried gourd bottle. “The milk of a she-elephant after her first calving, mixed with honey and lotus blossoms. Drink a cup before going to bed, and it will help you conceive a healthy heir,” the cow said, smiling in a grandmotherly manner as she placed it before them.
“Oh my.” Rarity blushed at the thought, then giggled like an excited filly. “Thank you.”
The old cow gave her a wink, before turning and leaving, her husband turning only after she had passed him, then the guards.
Saphira stepped forward with Thorne and Fírnen. Her blue scales shimmered in the sunlight, even as her form and bulk caused the ground to shake beneath her feet. “Greetings, and well met, daughter of Faust.” She nodded her head in acknowledgement, though was careful not to let it be mistaken for a bow. “As you are doubtless aware, our species are a proud people.” A hint of a smirk pulled at the edges of her maw. “We are also incredibly stubborn. However, one of the greatest things our species admires and respects is strength and cunning, something your new mate has no small abundance of. We cannot offer a means to make you his equal in battle; however, we can offer you this,” she said as she motioned to her compatriots. Each trundled forward with a large chest held in one of their hands, before lowering them, and touching their snouts to the lids. With a single spark-filled exhalation of colored smoke, the catches on the chests came free, and the lids snapped open to reveal a veritable rainbow of hard, thick, radiant scales.
“These are a contribution from the eldest of our race. Your mate earned their respect long ago. Their inherent ties to the magic of this world has had long to strengthen and empower these scales. Knowing your unique gifts from Garble’s less than flattering accounts, we believed that these would serve you best, and help to guard you as you follow your mate into battle. Show your foes the strength and cunning that so easily snared the heart of Soul Fire,” she uttered the last name in her native tongue.
Rarity nodded her head gently in turn. “I thank you for this precious gift. They will be put to good use,” she promised.
“They had better,” Sapphira returned. With a curt jerk of her serpentine neck, she and her fellows retreated to join the crowd of delegates.
The block of Dwarves approached as one single unit, bearing between them a large chest lined with polished brass and platinum. A blue cobalt lock swung with every step. In a swift motion, they turned as one to face Hammer Strike and Rarity, and set the chest before them. When it was safely on the ground, the Dwarf with the longest beard walked forward and spoke.
“It is our life's honor that we should be allowed to come to the wedding of the Blue Lard, but ye’ll have ta forgive us, as we only got the news recently. We only had enough time to put together this wee bit of candy for you,” he said with an apologetic bow, before drawing an equally blue key from his beard, and unlocking the chest. “Long live the Blue Lard and the White Lady,” he called, opening the chest as his compatriots echoed his words. Light swam into the room as it shone through the facets of a chest filled to the brim with gemstones of all kinds.
“My eyes!” one Pony shrieked near the back of the square.
“We hope you will accept it with our best wishes, your honors.”
“This is quite nice. Thank you,” Hammer Strike replied.
Rarity’s eyes practically sparkled as she gazed on the gems. “Oh, my word. You gentlemen will have to show me the caves where you mine. Why, these gems are positively exquisite, some of the highest quality I’ve ever laid eyes on!”
The Dwarves looked to Hammer Strike, genuinely confused. “Highest quality she ever laid eyes on? These rocks?”
“The gemstones closer to the surface aren’t of the same quality as those down at the elevation of the Dwarven Capital,” Hammer Strike replied.
The Dwarves nodded, before turning and leaving. Several guards went to move the chest, and several more came to help them as they slowly managed to drag it to the side.
“I’ll have to take you to their capital someday,” Hammer Strike whispered to Rarity.
“I’d like that. After all, you seem to make friends in the most unlikely places, and I’d like to meet them all,” she purred seductively as she kissed him on the cheek.
The next delegation walked forward in silence, saying not a word as they hopped on their powerful legs. The Kangaroos had a simple bag they had borrowed from the castle. Inside it, a hand-carved sample of every instrument from their culture, including the rain stick and the didgeridoo, which were then laid out for the couple to see. Each had been brightly colored with designs and images that bespoke their culture and their land. With the gifts given, the two roos that had presented bowed, performed an about face, and hopped back into the collective of delegates.
Fancy Pants stepped forward next. “The Solar Court feels that, as you are a house, and yet don’t have a home here in Canterlot, well, as you know, some of our … fellow nobles have recently lost or had to sell some assets. That is why we of the Solar Courts have chosen to pool our assets to gift you the manor next to the home the Bladefeathers purchased, so that you may always be close either in New Unity or the capital. May it be a happy home to you and yours for generations to come.” He cleared his throat, and smiled as he leaned in to whisper in Hammer Strike’s ear. “Fleur and I have a little something extra, a house warming gift, if you will. I believe the game is called darts, if memory serves. Also, the manor on the other side of the Bladefeather house is empty. Word is the Bluebloods might be looking to purchase the property.”
Fancy Pants levitated the package, along with the card that held the title deed for the new estate. When said dart game had been opened, the face of Baron Blueblood stared in absolute horror and outrage. “My compliments on the excellent work you performed during your bachelor party. I simply had to immortalize the occasion, and, well, I must say, it’s some of your best handiwork.” He smirked, and winked. “The painting is completely indestructible, and has a repair spell enchanted to preserve its lifespan. The runes may need recharging from time to time, but so long as you keep up the proper maintenance, this board will stay with you forever.”
Hammer Strike’s smile grew faintly. “Thank you, Fancy Pants. This’ll be put to good use.”
Flurry Fang walked forward, dressed with a metal band that had been carefully forged and engraved by Luna’s hooves as a symbol of his station wrapped around his head. He flared his wings in a greeting to Rarity and Hammer Strike. “I bring the blessings of the Lunar Court, and come as the representative for the gifts which we, as a people, wish to present. For Lord Hammer Strike, let it be known that the Lunar Court shall honor your wishes, and we shall only call thee Hammer Strike when we speak.” He ignored the gasps of horror from the Solar Court with natural aplomb.
“That works,” Hammer Strike nodded.
“We are glad this gift has pleased you, Hammer Strike.” Flurry Fang smiled gently as he turned to Lady Rarity. “During the war that brought Thestrals and Pegasi together as brothers, the war that brought us into the moonlight without fear for the first time in centuries, we found great joy and great hope. To us, it is known as the Revelation War. Equestria knows it as the Third Gryphon War. In honor of your courage as the first Unicorn noble to hear and accept our titles, we present you with a cloak made from the left paw of an ursa major, and to Hammer Strike, one made from the right paw of the ursa major. Let it be known that as the paws were its power, so, too, have you become a paw to our High Chieftess, Rarity. As Hammer Strike was her right paw during the true unification war. Just as the Ursa cannot travel without both the left and right paws, so, too must a marriage require function and unity, two parts working to move the whole forward. May it always be that the left knows what the right is doing, that they may travel well, and attack with dexterity and strength.”
As Flurry Fang retreated, the Crystal Pony guards marched neatly up the aisle in two parallel lines, each dressed in polished armor, and carrying a banner as a familiar yellow-and-blue Pegasus led them. Upon reaching the front, he cleared his throat, and called, “Presenting Queen Mi Amore Cadenza, Prince Consort Shining Armor, Prince Bellacosa, and Princess Alto!” Flash Sentry had announced with all the pomp that was normally expected, but it seemed this time had been filled with a little more enthusiasm than was strictly necessary.
“Congratulations, you two,” Cadence said as she gave a short bow. “It’s great to see you together at last.” She chuckled as she winked mischievously at the pair. “I was half tempted to authorize a love potion, just to get you two to move things forward.”
Rarity winced. “Fortunately, that … wasn’t necessary.” She still remembered the fiasco that had happened between Big Mac and Miss Cheerilee. Young Sweetie had been grounded for a week, after that little incident.
“Oh, relax, Rarity. I was only joking. Besides, I’m the Alicorn of love. I don’t need a potion to help get things moving in the right direction.”
“Hey, Hammer Strike!” Cosy and Alto chorused together.
“Congratulations on the wedding. We wanted to make something special, so Alto and I put our heads together with Comic to make you this!” Cosy said.
The two levitated a small box that had been engraved with the symbol of the Crystal Empire's national treasure and a silhouette of Rarity’s gems surrounding Hammer Strike’s crest, which Hammer Strike rested carefully on one of his hooves.
“Go on. Open it!” Alto said excitedly.
Hammer Strike opened the box to reveal two metal bands surrounding a layer of clear crystal. As the smith took a closer look at one of the bands, he could just make out the tiniest hints of the spell circuitry involved in the artifact’s construction.
“One for you, and one for Rarity,” Alto said. “I helped forge the metal, and Cosy helped carve the crystal with Comic’s help.”
“They’re like my band, only Comic said he wanted to update them somehow. We didn’t really get all the techno mumbo jumbo,” Cosy said as he rubbed the back of his head. “Go ahead, put them on,” he encouraged.
Hammer Strike held the box over for Rarity to take one, then slipped his own on his hoof. When Rarity had done the same, the two bands flashed, and the crystal shifted, taking on a blue color to match Rarity’s magic in her case, and a veritable kaleidoscope in Hammer Strike’s as the rainbow continued to morph and change, sparkling all the while in a slow and steady pulse of patterns.
“That’s … not supposed to happen,” Shining Armor noted as he stepped forward somewhat awkwardly. “Oh, and Comic sends his regards. He said he wanted to wish you a … psychedelic wedding. I … suppose the band is supposed to be what he meant?” He shook his head, disrupting his mane to focus on the pair. “Anyways, the bands are just part of the gift.” He smiled as he motioned with a hoof towards the crystal guards. The crowds parted as a large box decorated with all manner of constellations and celestial bodies was carried in with the help of a good twelve Ponies. They dropped the box carefully, before stepping back. With a flash from his horn, Shining dissolved the box to reveal a giant Pony sculpture. Its expression and features were blank, and it had neither armor nor weapon, but it was clear from what Grif and Pensword had described what this statue likely was.
“Is that what I think it is?”
Alto grinned with a knowing look. “What do you think it is?”
“A remake of those golems from earlier this year. Albeit with their differences, and potential upgrades?”
“That will depend on the two of you,” Cadence said with a smile, “but yes. It’s been programmed and updated with new innovations Comic was able to create after a careful examination of the original prototypes.”
“Oh … I’m going to run this thing through so many trials,” Hammer Strike purred. More than one Pony was a little unnerved by just how much excitement their normally neutral lord was putting out.
“Not until after we’ve had ours, darling,” Rarity said with a smirk, and a kiss.
Pensword looked over to Grif. “I’m suddenly very, very worried. I would be terrified if Hammer Strike pulled a Twilight and bounded around the golem yelling yes over and over again.”
“Never going to happen,” Vital said. “Hammer Strike’s too serious for that. If he ever started acting that way, we’d all know something’s wrong for sure.”
“Either way, it might be best if you order it to wait somewhere out of sight, Rarity. It seems like a bit of a distraction,” Grif said with a smirk directed towards Hammer Strike.
“Why, I don’t even know how to command it,” Rarity objected. “And besides, I trust my Strikey Wikey to restrain himself till after we’re done here. After all, he and I still have a honeymoon to go through,” she said as she flashed him with her big eyes and long eyelashes.
“Indeed.” Hammer Strike smiled at the thought.
“It’s been modified from Cosy’s,” Shining explained. “Either of you will be able to command it as you see fit, and it’s capable of taking on a variety of templates according to your preferences. It will take time to get it up to its full capacity, though,” he noted, “but we gave it a bit of a boost with some help from the crystal heart.”
“That will make one heck of a gargoyle,” Grif laughed.
“I thought gargoyles were normally bipedal with wings and fangs and claws and the like,” Vital said as he cocked his head confusedly.
“It’s a giant statue that comes to life to attack or defend when ordered,” Grif said, rolling his eyes.
“Yes, most often portrayed in the shape I described previously,” Vital countered.
“I was describing the golem,” Grif said with a mischievous smirk.
Vital facehoofed. “You really need to clarify more with me, Grif. Seriously, the way you phrased that sentence clearly implied you were talking about gargoyles, as you did just a few sentences earlier.”
“And yet I was comparing the statue to a gargoyle in those sentences, so your inability to understand my meaning is your fault.”
“And yet your troll face clearly indicates you’re just trying to get a rise out of me. Seriously, Grif, after all this time working with Clover, did you really think I was going to be such an easy target? … Don’t answer that.”
“Judging by the progress with everything here, I’m guessing a few smaller gifts from various entities in the court, maybe something big from the princesses, then round it out with a massive gift that comes with a big showy musical number.”
Rarity found a rather poorly wrapped box with a messily painted CMC logo on top. Hammer Strike chose to open it, just in case, and the two were pleasantly surprised to find a stack of ten plates that had been carefully painted by each member of the CMC, showing an event or memory they each remembered and liked about the couple.
Applejack gave Rarity and Hammer Strike their own hats to decorate as they saw fit, a blank canvas for the new step they were taking in their lives together.
Rainbow Dash gave Hammer Strike a giant mason jar filled with liquid rainbow. “Thought you’d like something that might actually give you a challenge with your food,” she said with a wink. “This stuff even made Pinkie go crazy. Well, crazier than usual.”
Twilight levitated a book-shaped package, which Rarity opened with a kindly smile, before gasping in surprise as the cover parted to reveal the name of the famous Okrah Whinniefrey’s grinning face winking from an altar. As was the case with many of her products, this one focused on bettering one’s life through careful steps. In this case, the book focused on tips to help maintain a strong foundation for a lasting marriage, including a detailed, laid-out plan. In other words, this present was Twilight to a T. Not only had she managed to get ahold of the copy, but Twilight had gone above and beyond the call of duty by getting this first edition signed by the poofy-maned mare with the style and flare herself.
“Aww, thank you, Twilight,” Rarity gushed as she hugged her friend. “It’s so thoughtful!”
“Glad you liked it, Rarity,” Twilight said as she returned the embrace, and added her wings to it.
Fluttershy smiled as she snuck into the group, and nervously hoofed over a box wrapped with simple brown wrapping paper and a tiny blue bow. “I ... I hope you like it,” she whispered.
“Fluttershy, you know I’d like anything that comes from you,” Rarity said as she hugged the blushing Pegasus, before undoing the package to reveal an ornately decorated teaset. Each cup and saucer within had been carefully painted to represent one of the faces of the six friends with the accompanying pot, sugar, cream, and other containers fashioned to look like Hammer Strike, Grif, Pensword, Lunar Fang, and Vital Spark respectively. She gasped. “Why, Fluttershy, I don’t know what to say. It’s … it’s perfect!” Rarity smiled as tears began to form in the corners of her eyes.
“It’s quite lovely,” Hammer Strike replied with a smile.
“Me next! Me next!” Pinkie cried excitedly as she placed a small handmade booklet in front of the couple.
Hammer Strike picked up the item in question, and opened it up, revealing a number of coupons for free hours of “Pinkie Silence.” He chuckled at the gift, before giving her a smile. “Thank you, Pinkie, but I have doubts as to how much we’d want to use this.”
“Never say never,” Pinkie giggled, and then proceeded to leave out the side of Hammer Strike’s vision. Quite literally, as soon as she left his field of vision, she vanished from the crowd.
“She’s getting stranger,” Pensword whispered to Grif as he shuddered.
“She’s Pinkie.” Grif shrugged. There wasn’t really much more to say on the matter.
After much time spent opening gifts, the sultan stepped forward with the two mares. His long white beard and mane shook in the wind, and he chuckled to himself. “To the Djinn of Fire, and his radiant bride.” He bowed. “My wife, my daughter, and I thank you for the invitation, and the opportunity to share in the joy of your union.” His eye twinkled with a suppressed mirth as he motioned to either side of him, where the two mares bowed in similar manner. The younger mare had a dark blue coat with a black mane and starry eyes that shone like sapphires. Her mother bore similar traits, though her eyes were a deep brown. The only other trait the princess shared with her sire lay in the star-shaped white mark on her forehead, which matched her father’s pure white coat.
“We have already given a valued treasure to the Djinn, but on this day, we thought it appropriate to grant something that would not bore him so much,” the sultana declared.
“So we brought a friend along to provide some … entertainment,” the princess finished as she produced what appeared to be a simple brass oil lamp. “His jokes are … difficult to understand, but he means well, and his musical talents are second to none.”
“Grif … are they about to do what I think they’re about to do?” Vital whispered as his eyes widened at the glint of the metal.
“If he sounds like Robin Williams, I’m out,” Grif said.
The lamp was rubbed, the sparks flew, smoke rose, and the form of the genie coalesced in the form of a bright blue pony with a smoky lower end. It groaned and stretched as its ethereal mane swayed back and forth in the air, as though suspended by water. He took a moment to take in his surroundings, then gasped when he saw the wedded couple. “You brought me to a wedding, and you didn’t even tell me? I’m not even in my best suit! Oh, what’s a guy to wear?” He poofed up next to Rarity, and a clothes rack suddenly appeared with nigh-identical tuxedos built specifically for the blue spirit. “Blue, turquoise, aquamarine, azure, sapphire, or ocean?”
“Well, if you want a fashionista’s opinion, darling, I’d go with the azure. It brings out the color in your eyes.”
The genie squeed. “Oh, honey, the things we could talk about,” he sassed as a wig poofed onto his head, and he waved a hoof back and forth coquettishly, before poofing back into proper wedding attire. “But seriously, movie tropes and stereotypes aside, what did you need me here for, anyways, Al?” he asked as he rounded on the Sultan.
“I told you not to call me that in public, Genie,” the sultan said as he winced.
“But it’s so adorable when you blush,” Genie said with a smirk. “And besides, if I’m going to be bound in eternal servitude, I might as well have some fun while I’m at it. Just be glad I like you. Your great grandfather got so much worse.”
The sultan’s daughter cleared her throat.
“Yes, Scheherazade?” the Genie asked. “I’m all ears.” Even as he said that, his ears inflated to ten times their size as they swiveled effortlessly in the air, before returning to normal again.
“Genie, this is Lord Hammer Strike,” she said as she pointed over to the groom. “The Djinn of Fire. We were wondering if you would be willing to grace him with your unique talents and showmanship as an offering on his wedding day.”
“The Djinn of Fire? Really?” Genie poofed up in front of Hammer Strike, and began to scrutinize the Pony. “I thought you’d be bigger,” he hummed to himself. Then he crinkled his nose. “You reek of aether, though. There aren’t many I know that’ve been pulled through time and space like that,” he mused. “However, before I choose whether to entertain you properly, I must be sure. A test, to prove you are who you say you are.”
With a snap of his fingers, a board covered in blue screens appeared, and Hammer Strike suddenly found himself standing behind a contestant’s booth flanked on either side by an exact copy of the blue Genie.
“...What?” Hammer Strike questioned.
“Who’s ready for a final round of Jeopardy?”
A studio audience appeared made up entirely of blue Genie replicas as they began clapping, cheering, hooting, hollering, and whistling. The Genie raised his hooves, and his clones calmed down, before he turned to face the “contestants.”
“The real Djinn of Fire earned his title from the sultan, after defeating an entity entirely made up of sand by using what substance? The clock is ticking, folks. Your time begins now.” A familiar song began to play over the the air as the light somehow faded around them to lend a tone of seriousness to the event. When the song finally ended, Hammer Strike rolled his eyes as the answers were brought up on the screen. The two clones had each written the obvious answer: What is fire?
“Oh, I’m so sorry, you two. While the answer was partially correct, you can’t win a match with half a racket. Let’s take a look at what Hammer Strike wrote, shall we?”
The final answer came up on the board, and Hammer Strike shrugged as he said what he’d written aloud. “What is … thaumic fire,” he answered simply, even as he rolled his eyes.
A series of bells and whistles went off as confetti rained down from above. “That is correct! Congratulations, Hammer Strike. Tell him what he’s won, Genie!”
“With pleasure, Genie,” another copy of the Genie said in a deeper voice as he held his tail like a microphone. A plaid jacket adorned his upper body to add to the overall impression of announcer. “He’s won an all expenses paid over the top musical number to round out his festivities as the couple parades through town, and back to the castle, where festivities and a final chariot back to their abode in New Unity await!”
“Thanks, Genie. Now, in the immortal words of a mischievous pink creature that’s neither Pony nor Spirit, let’s get this party started!”
With a great flash of light and a swirl of smoke that consumed the square, the sound of drums and trumpets began to sound through the air as, suddenly, the guests, bride, and groom found themselves being borne on litters while a smirking Genie began to dance around and sing to the music. Ponies were conjured out of thin air to join in, and encouraged bystanders to do the same.
Make way for the mighty, Hammer Strike, so exciting! Hey! Clear the way in the old Bazaar Hey you! Let us through! It's a bright new star! Oh Come! Be the first on your block to meet his eye! Make way! Here he comes! Ring bells! Bang the drums! Are you gonna love this guy!
It is he, Hammer Strike, the lord in Equestria!
Genuflect, show some respect, Down on one knee! Now, try your best to stay calm Brush up your sunday salaam Just stay away from his coat or be sorry!
Yes, it’s he,
Hammer Strike, the
Lord in Equestria.
Strong as ten-thousand stallions, definitely! He faced the great Gryphon hordes, their spears and maces and swords. Who sent those goons to their gods? Why, Hammer Strike!
All the wealth that he owns runs in channels And he gives it away just for free When it comes to exotic animals Has he got a zoo? I'm telling you, it's a world-class menagerie
Yes, it’s he,
Hammer Strike, the
lord in Equestria.
So unique! Tres magnifique! Lord of Everfree!
Well, get on out in that square His enemies best prepare
To give lip service, then glare maliciously.
He's got favor from Princess Celestia (Aw, look at her blush.) Princess Luna just can’t disagree. (That’s right, princess, wave to the crowd!) He's got troops, servants, spies, mercenaries. (Proud to work for him) They bow to his whim, love serving him, They're just lousing with loyalty to he! Yes, to he!
As you can see
Awesome is he, so easy to best ya. Hard as stone, till he found one true Rarity. And that, good people, is why the two got hitched and dropped by, With three fainting Ponies, gifts and guests galore With his phoenix, scorpions, and big manticore
With this new life he’s chosen, he’s not beholden. Who knows what the future will bring?
Make Way! For Strike and Rarity!
Hammer Strike remained completely impassive as he took in the sudden change in scenery while the Genie pulled out all the stops. “Well, that’s half the special effects budget gone in one fell swoop.” He chuckled as Rarity kissed him.
“I love you, Hammer Strike.”
“I love you, too, Rarity.”
Pensword and Grif followed Hammer Strike as Celestia and Luna led them towards another of the smaller ballrooms. “Now, teacher,” Luna started, “I know you don’t like the stuff, and, frankly, with the amounts stored here you could open a fine restaurant and not want for decades, but the delegates insisted all the same.” She sighed as she opened a door to the ballroom. The curtains had been shut to prevent any light from shining into the room, while the steady hum as they passed the threshold indicated the charms maintaining the suddenly cooler temperature.
Barrel upon barrel had been stacked in racks from the floor to halfway up the walls, and wrapped from the left of the double doors all around the room’s outer wall, then back to the right side of said double doors. But that was only the beginning of the show. Several tables had been lined up in the middle of the room with row upon row of bottles containing all manner of alcohol ranging from whisky to vodka, scotch, and even a few bottles of sake, each with varying years, vintages, and fanciful labels to indicate their value. Then, next to the tables, two positively gargantuan racks towered above them, with each shelf filled to the brim with colored glass holding various types of wine ranging from white to red to champagne.
“That’s … a lot of alcohol,” Hammer Strike stammered, unable to think of anything clever to say.
“That. . .” Pensword gaped. “What do we do?”
Hammer Strike shrugged. “Drink, and hope the dwarves didn’t bring their best.”
Pensword nodded. “I doubt that hope will come true. They most likely gave their best, and then some.”
“But it is a nice thought,” Hammer Strike noted. “Good thing I burn off most forms of alcohol almost instantaneously.”
“There’s enough here to blitz out an entire frat house,” Grif noted in Draconic. “Hell, there’s enough there to blitz out everyfrat house.”
“And then some,” Hammer Strike added. “I … think we have a space in New Unity that can store all of this?”
“Knowing the Dwarves, it will be when you get back,” Pensword muttered. “Actually … could it blitz the Demos?” he asked as his ears perked upwards, and the beginnings of a cunning glint shone in his eyes.
Hammer Strike shook his head. “I don’t want to kill them. Plus, this’ll be saved for both special occasions and when I feel like trying to forget something, which will likely fail spectacularly, but it’s the thought that counts.”
Celestia looked at the gathering. “I wouldn’t be opposed to spending some time testing our limits with you.” She smiled. “Frankly, I never did see how much I could handle either.”
Luna snorted. “Thou art a lightweight, but it would be fun to see how thou acts with this tonic in thy belly.”
Celestia chuckled, and her expression suddenly grew very dark. “Oh, it is on, Sister.”
“So, my little whisper in the night, do you understand what I’m asking of you?” Baron Blueblood’s voice was cool and collected, effectively hiding the embarrassment he faced with having to acknowledge one of his own ancestor’s embarrassments. He looked upon the pony before him, his … spawn, and the filly who had claimed his dear wife’s life. He loathed her with every fiber of his being, but right now she was a liability which could be turned into an asset. He leaned back in his chair, taking a sip of his scotch.
The night sky-coated filly nodded her head, a fang-filled grin on her face as her tufted ears flicked back and forth, while the maids dressed her in a fancy dress that only a month ago she had been in charge of keeping clean. “Yes, Papa.” She moved her leathery wings. “Those fools might have forced your hoof, but after seeing me, how can they deny what a good influence you are on the children of the night?” Her blood red eyes narrowed in a happy squint. Her Grey mane and tail had been groomed to perfection. “Do you want me to find out what happened to any of our misguided brothers and sisters being raised by those … ruffians?”
“No, my dear. Those ruffians, as you put it, have a fortress, and the princesses’ ears. They have caught me off guard too numerously of late with ... unexpected action. I need my own pieces in this game, and you, my dear daughter, will be a key player. You will go to them with a well-practiced sob story. It will be up to you to use your divine acting skills to make them think you are in danger. Considering the record our family has had in previous generations, there will be little room for doubt or skepticism; however, I will expect you to be prepared to address such things all the same, should the need arise. Be prepared. Once they have accepted you, you will be my eyes and ears in New Unity,” he explained.
Internally, he didn’t understand why the servants hadn’t already explained it to the little monster. He’d have to find out who had been coddling her, but first, the mask. After all, much though he hated to admit it, she did have talent, and those acting skills didn’t come from just anywhere. He shifted his features into a perfectly crafted smile, just tained at the corners with a hint of sadness. “In short, my child, you must become my spy. It will be a dangerous task. Should you be found out, I cannot guarantee what they might do to you.”
She smiled joyfully as she flared her wings, and bowed her head in the manner of the Solar court, then did so again in the manner of the Thestrals. “Forgive me the impertinence, my lord. I wanted to hear my papa give the order personally. As you have said so many times before, your staff and fellow nobles are not always trustworthy. Better to hear the full mission from your lips than risk the jealousy of another spoiling the charade. After all, some might have even gone so far as try to remove my stain upon yours and Mama’s bloodline, rather than allow me to further the goals of House Blueblood.”
Blueblood gaped at the foal. Intelligent and a competent actress. Were it not for the unfortunate nature of her species, he might have named her heir, rather than that good-for-nothing boy of his. Still, positive traits aside, the girl deserved no sympathy. She was a means to an end, as all her kind were meant to be. She would never have a place in his heart. She would never replace her mother. It would never replace its mother.
“I will think of some great story that should get me into the walls of the Fortress itself, and not the homes being built outside the inner wall.”
“And when you come home, my dear, you will, of course, receive your own crest to wear proudly, as promised. You will be openly acknowledged for all to see and admire for your service.” He smiled kindly, even as he struggled to hold back his revulsion. As if he would let that filthy creature sully his family crest in such a way. No, when its usefulness had run its course, he would see to its disappearance.
“Thank you Father. And with that crest safely secured, I will remove myself from your home and live in the Night woods, as Princess Luna has forced you to do.”
She seemed almost to spit at the thought. Loyalty, too. A pity to lose such a winning combination, but dogs were loyal too, and he couldn’t risk this dog going rabid.
“Do you have all you need?” Blueblood asked her. “Have you been educated in what you might need to know?”
“I know bits about Thestral knowledge. I can bow correctly, I know the political standings in their nobility, and that I might have to dirty my hooves to get what you want. I know I’ll even have to–” she scrunched her face in distaste “–wield a blade or bow. But I feel ready. It unfortunate that I will have to allow myself the indignity of becoming semi-corrupted to help you, Papa.”
Blueblood nodded as he lifted a dagger from its place on a pillow that would be burned shortly after this conversation completed itself. The blade had been carved from the finest ebony, and the handle had been wrapped with blue leather. A matching sheath soon followed, held together by old, but powerful looking leather cords. He struggled not to shudder. “Take this. It was passed down from a time many centuries ago. It is one of the families … less honorable heirlooms, but it should gain you some respect to carry it. We’ve only kept it, because it dates to the founding of our noble house. Such things, much like a third spouse, can’t be given up so easily, you know,” he chuckled.
“Of course, Papa. Do you want it back when I return?” She asked as he allowed the maids to place the dagger on a belt, and then tie it around her waist.
“I don’t care. It’s a mere trinket. Keep it, if you like. Get rid of it, if you want. But, for now, it is a resource, and we must never waste resources, my child.” His eyes lock on her with carefully calculated kindness mixed with the false air of wisdom. “One never knows when their value may shine through.”
As he had hoped, the manipulation had the desired effect. The revolting little creature smiled, and a hope he’d seen so often on the mongrels that begged for scraps in the streets now shone in this thing’s eyes. “Thank you, Papa. I think I will keep it. It was never my desire to take anything from the estate, but any gift from you is precious. And as you said, who knows when its value might shine through. At the very least, should I fail, House Blueblood could try again in another few generations.”
Ah, there it was, that ruthless nature her kind were so well known for in battle. He’d wondered when it might surface. “Very well,” he said as he cleared his throat. “You know what I need you to do. Go with my blessing, Night Terror Blueblood, second born of my house, third of her name.” He gave her a cunning grin. “Go, and show our foes what softheartedness brings”
“Of course, Papa. I will bring this to them, but first, I must show our support of this union. I’ll make sure to request a meeting with the commander. From what I’ve been able to glean of the gossip from his servants, he has a soft spot for Thestrals of mixed blood. It will most likely be the easiest way in.” She rubbed her hooves together as a chilling smirk crossed over her face that put chills down Blueblood’s spine. “I can hardly wait.”
“So… Grif, who is going to bring these gift back? Should we call the Giant? I doubt we would be able to ship all the gifts back by rail. It would take too long,” Pensword said as he sat down at a small table a few days later to share a meal with his old friend.
“Send them back with the Rohirrim. I’ve had the older members carrying large bags of rocks during morning jog for the last week. This should be nothing for them,” Grif chuckled.
“Right. You have a good point there. I’ll have the Demon Slayers help also. Fox Division should at least help with the lighter stuff, but I still think the Giant will be necessary for all that drink left over from last night. By the moon’s light, Celestia and Luna both drank themselves to sleep, and there was still plenty to go round.” He shook his head in disbelief. “Still, I hope Hammer Strike enjoys his honeymoon with all that alcohol.” He trailed off as he caught sight of another Pony entering the room, then looked to Grif. “So you think he’s going to do it now? This is his last chance here. Wish Vital was here.”
“Give him a minute to psyche himself out. It took you months to make the move,” Grif laughed. Pensword chuckled, but said nothing more as he let Button Mash do whatever it was he was planning.
Meanwhile, Button Mash continued his trot, completely oblivious to the two warriors’ casual observation, and hastily hoofed over a box that had been wrapped messily in gift paper. He blushed heavily as he looked off to the side. “I ... I thought you might like this.” He was somewhat comical in his appearance, since he still hadn’t gotten rid of the chestpiece from the wedding ceremony, though his normal propellor beanie was once more upon his head, where it belonged.
“A present? For me?” Sweetie Belle asked, surprised.
“Uhuh,” Button muttered. “I ... I hope you like it.” He brushed a hoof nervously down his mane as Sweetie Belle undid the wrapping, and opened the lid on the box to reveal the pendant in all its glory. She gasped as she took in the sight.
“Oh, Button Mash, it’s so pretty,” she beamed. “It looks just like something my sis’d wear to the Gala.” Without so much as a word of warning, she rushed in, and hugged the colt. “Thank you so much. Now I won’t have to bother Rarity for jewelry when I’m playing dressup.”
Button Mash was speechless. He gulped as he finally noticed Grif and Pensword mouthing to each other. It took the young foal a few moments to get through the shock, before he slowly and awkwardly returned the hug. Unbeknownst to him, the propellor on his beany had begun to spin as the flush in his cheeks deepened.
“Shipping accomplished,” Grif said as he leaned back in his chair, and folded his arms.
“So it would seem,” Pensword agreed with a wry smile. “So it would seem.”
Pensword looked out on the courtyard as Vital, Twilight, Trixie, and Clover the Clever all practiced magic. Due to the intensity of the studies and the general effects of their combined fields, no other Ponies were allowed to enter the courtyard, until further notice. Since the guards couldn’t spy directly, they watched from the sidelines, instead. He glanced above them as a giant green magic Eastern Dragon construct battled a purple Western Dragon. Another part of the courtyard had a giant bird of pure ice battling an avian constructed from flowers and vines.
Pensword’s ear twitched. “I still cannot believe Clover is forcing Twilight to use the Western style Dragon. I guess she wants to see how she handles the disadvantage. Then again, she would probably be beaten, no matter what dragon form she uses. This is Clover, after all,” he mused.
“It’s not the dog in the fight; it’s the fight in the dog,” Grif retorted as he took another beakful of popcorn.
“Yeah, but we already know who has more fight. The real question is how long do you think she’ll last? I say another twenty minutes.” He smiled as the fight continued. “What about Trixie and Vital? Who do you think will win?”
“Clover will beat Twilight in about … five minutes, I’d say. Trixie will beat Vital in two,” Grif said.
Pensword looked at the fight. “I say it will be a tie between the two, and it will be in five minutes.”
Two minutes later, Vital and Trixie had their staves locked in combat, leaning in to push against each other as their constructs clashed above them. Suddenly, Trixie leaned in, and kissed Vital’s nose. Vital Spark experienced a momentary shock, and wound up on the ground a few seconds later.
“Told you,” Grif chuckled.
Pensword cackled gleefully at the kiss. “How long do you think till he gets tied to this land?”
“Like threading a needle, some things happen with time, not pressure.” Grif shrugged as he smirked.
“Yeah, still, there is the chance he goes back and stays on Earth,” Pensword countered as Vital threw down a set of pellets that burst apart into thick blue smoke. When the smoke had cleared, Vital was on top of Trixie, holding her down with his staff as he winked mischievously at her.
“Hey, you two, enough with the flirting! Your enemies aren't going to give you time to make out!” Grif shouted, before taking more popcorn from a vender who’d made a mighty fine business for himself passing out snacks during the combat lessons in the arena.
Pensword smirked, and winked at Grif. “Unless you are a Thestral. Then the battlefield is a date.” He furrowed his brow. “What happened to all is fair in love and war?”
The two Ponies below quickly separated as they looked away with heavy blushes on their cheeks. They then proceeded to glare daggers at Grif and Pensword, before looking to one another, and smirking.
Pensword saw the glow, and he pulled Grif down. “DUCK!” He yelled as they hit the ground. The space they had filled just moments before was suddenly covered in ice and blue flowers with yellow centers. Their presence seemed to only augment the effect of the cold as the ice spread from their roots, coating the floor and the wall behind them. Pensword looked to Grif. “So … should we prepare a secret file for if they do get married?” he whispered.
“Pensword, what makes you think I would ever have a secret file containing possibly blackmail worthy information on those two?” Grif acted shocked, before turning back to the fight with a smirk. “I have five.”
“I have two for each of them. Still, the magic that would come from that line, let alone if Twilight marries, or Clover, actually … well, that is a good question. How vital are ponies?” He paused. “I’d better check if she had any offspring, and find where they are today. That is scary.”
Pensword poked over the edge of the balcony in time to see Clover make her move. With a wave of her focus, she overpowered Twilight’s construct as the Eastern Dragon wrapped itself around the Western and squeezed. The magic in Twilight’s horn flared as sweat poured down her face, before the purple construct began to contort, then redistribute between the pressure points, before finally bursting like a giant balloon as purple sparkles rained down over the field. Clover smiled as she raised her focus, and dismissed her construct, before dipping her focus in acknowledgement of Twilight’s skill. Twilight’s focus wobbled as she returned the gesture with crossed eyes and ragged breath. Still, despite the strain, and the loss itself, the princess of friendship smiled.
“She did well,” Grif chuckled.
“Indeed.”
Moon River stifled a giggle as she and two others hid in an open box. The now familiar sounds of construction work thrummed around them. She bared a fang-filled grin as she tried to show some of the tricks she’d learned to the two young gryphonesses who had recently become her partners in crime.
Athena and Gentle Wing looked at each other, then back at Moon River, before both of them smiled widely. Their beaks opened to reveal the short, but sharp, teeth already beginning to line their gums.
Moon River pointed up as she looked down at the cross bow, suction cup darts, and throwing darts they had brought together. After all, Athena and Gentle Wing had yet to learn the joy that came with suction cup weaponry. That was a most grievous error that simply had to be corrected. She let out an annoyed hiss as Gentle Wing poked her with one of the darts for the tenth time, then motioned outside the box with an exasperated expression. Gentle Wing just giggled in response.
Athena examined a dart curiously, before she plopped it on her sister's head, and joined Gentle Wing in a fit of giggles.
Moon River repeated a move she had seen many a grownup do when something went wrong, and put her hoof to her nose. Unfortunately, in her enthusiasm, she struck herself a little too hard, which led first to shock, then to sniffles, then to tears, and finally a full blown bawl.
Gentle Wing looked confusedly at Moon River, then rose to her paws, approached the crying blue foal, and wrapped a down-covered wing gently around her. Athena soon followed her sister’s example.
Moon River didn’t know how to react. The tears stopped a moment as she felt the unusual sensation of soft down against her fur. When she managed to get her breathing under control, she sniffled, then used a hoof to point gingerly at her nose, being careful not to make contact. “Hurt,” she said.
Gentle Wing warbled a bit as she tried to comfort Moon River like Momma always did for her, remembering the gentle lullabies and beak stroking along her feathers and back.
Moon River shuddered, then sniffled again at the strange sensation that was baby Gryphon talons and beaks running through her white-streaked mane. Eventually, her eyes began to grow heavy as her two companions purred and warbled on either side. She nearly succumbed to the drowse, when a shadow suddenly passed over them. The three children looked up to see what could be blocking their light, only to hear a familiar voice.
“So that'swhere you three got to.” Grif chuckled as he looked down on the three playmates. His face changed when he saw Moon River’s salty cheeks. “What's wrong, Moony?” he asked as he picked her up gently, while the two Gryphon cubs stayed on the bottom of the crate, surrounded by the darts. Moon river sniffed again, and mimicked the motion that had caused her so much pain in the first place. Grif couldn’t help but chuckle at the antic. “Save that for when you’re a little older, Moony. Trust me, it’ll be a lot easier then,” he promised as he kissed her gently on the nose. “And aim a little higher next time. The hoof is supposed to go to the bridge of the nose, not the snout.” His eyes passed over the crate and his two daughters as they played with the darts together, poking one another, and his heart nearly stopped. It was clear he had just narrowly avoided a terrible fate, one filled with suction cups, and possibly tree sap.
Moon River pouted sulkily as she noticed her godfather’s reaction. It was clear the game was up.
“Hey now, Moony, those two have a while yet, before they can help you with your little operations,” he told her. Then he ruffled her mane with a wing. “Not everybody’s as ahead of the game as you are.”
She pouted. “Clan!” and huffed with conviction, as if that one word was enough to explain what drove her. “CLAN!” She repeated louder.
“Thats sweet, Moony.” Grif chuckled as he put her on his back, before retrieving the twins, and setting them each on a wing. “How about we see if we can get you some ice cream?” he offered. “That sounds like fun, right?”
She paused, before using her wings to point to the other two. “Cream?”
“They can’t have ice cream yet.” He shook his head. “They’re too young.”
“Treat. All Treat,” Moon River said. Then she repeated again. “All treat. All Treat.”
“Moony, calm down, and think about this,” Grif insisted softly. “Have I ever lied to you before?”
“. . . No,” she grudgingly admitted. The she scrunched her face up in thought. “Treat later?” she finally asked.
“Okay.” Grif nodded his assent. “Consider it a date. Now come on, little Miss Mastermind. Let's get you three back home. It’s almost time for these two to take their nap.”
The two cubs began to voice their protest, but Moon River looked at Grif very cutely. “Nest, too?” she asked, “or cave?”
“If that's what you want, we can all go to the nest.” Grif chuckled as he started off towards the compound and their home, where two loving mothers and an extremely mischievous houseguest awaited. Using their innate feline instinct, the twins carefully balanced their way across Grif’s back to lay beside Moon River, before snuggling up and warbling happily.
Moon River did her best to coo in response, trying to replicate their sounds as the trio watched the land pass by. After all, naps weren’t so bad when they were with friends, and usually meant snacks and playtime with the family afterwards. And this time, she’d be able to share it with Grif and his wives. She could hardly wait.
Pensword found that being a commander with feathers meant one thing that he had never expected. Pegasus Culture indicated that military rank was still one of the most important aspects in life. The higher the rank, the more important the individual was. That held especially true for a warrior of the past like Pensword. Unfortunately, as one of the oldest and most decorated living members of Equestria’s former, and hopefully soon-to-be-remilitarized, armed forces, he would have to preside over the laying of the cornerstones for the Hall of Paragons. Clouds had been gathered with some difficulty for observers to watch the dedication ceremony from above. Pegasi, Thestrals, and even a few Gryphons had come to watch the historic event.
Pensword stood in his ceremonial armor fashioned after that of the pre-unification era as he looked on a series of cubic white granite stones that had been carefully cut and placed along the edge of a trench that had been dug with assistance from some of the most skilled craftsponies available. As tradition demanded, one of the stones had been covered in a series of carvings that would never be seen again, once the construction had begun properly.
Thankfully, all Pensword had to do was cut four cords with his short sword. The pulleys and wheels would take care of the rest. A female Pegasus wrapped in a puffy white robe and wearing a laurel wreath on her head finished reading a litany of prayers, and nodded to the commander. Pensword nodded in return, unsheathed the short sword, and swung. The first cord gave way with little resistance. Wood groaned as the counterweights that had been tied off with the rope pulled the stone into the air, moved in a carefully calculated arch, and then lowered it into the foundation, right where it needed to land. Spectators oohed and aahed at the sight.
Pensword nodded in approval as the ropes released, and the cornerstone finished settling. As they moved towards the next cornerstone, he looked around the site. He saw the materials that had been set aside to mine and transport the stone that would make up the outer wall. Thanks to the concept sketches and plans he had been presented with, he could picture the fluted columns, sturdy steps, and bas reliefs that would form the outer portion of the hall. Between the outer wall and the building itself, beds of flowers, artificial streams, brooks, and fountains would dot the landscape. Some would be filled with water, others with liquid rainbow. Thanks to the scouting and destruction that had occurred as a result of Chrysalis’ invasion, the remains of the original Hall of Paragons from Unity had been uncovered, and excavations were underway. More than a little inspiration had been drawn from those decrepit ruins.
Pensword finished off the other cornerstones in quick order. The ceremony concluded with the Pegasi spectators taking their chunks of cloud from the gathering, and moving them over the site to combine with the other participants’ clouds. Together, they bucked the clouds as one, causing the vapor to disperse into dew-like droplets that sprinkled down over the site. Another trench led down deeper into the base at an incline to meet a large circular hole.
“That,” the mare in the robes began, “will be the site of the main meditation pool. We’ll have a fountain on the eastern end of the hall to symbolize the beginning of life. The water will flow steadily down a channel from this fountain towards the western side, here. As I stated earlier, this will make the central pool. Drains will be added to cycle the water back up to the fountain in a proper loop, and protective enchantments will ensure the plumbing has the proper resistance to corrosion, while maintaining the cleanliness of the water.”
She motioned out to four wooden pegs, each embedded in the earth at four symmetrical corners from the pool’s location. “These markers indicate the location of the ceremonial pools of virtues, one for each of the paths a Pegasus can choose. And newborn foals will be washed under the waters at the fountain.” She smiled, and her hazel eyes twinkled merrily as she turned to face some rather confused-looking Earth Ponies and Unicorns. “The Hall of Paragons is designed for all Pegasi to learn and grow. When the time comes, they commit to their future by bathing in these four pools. As life moves, so, too, will a Pegasus. Those who commit themselves to a path, but find that their heart no longer sings the song of that flight, can return to commit themselves to a different path, or to seek what it really means to fly. In other words, this is a sacred place, not only to reflect on the deeds of our ancestors, but to choose or alter your own path as you see fit. A place of rebirth, if you will.”
Pensword nodded his head. “I assume that, as the Commander, I am to dedicate something?”
The mare smiled knowingly at him. “Yes. As I said, each of these pools represents one of the four main paths. When the basin is properly constructed, we’ll have the tiles laid over the stonework to portray each of the symbols: the sword for the military, the scroll for the politician and orator, the paintbrush for the artisan, and the feather for life and marriage.” She chuckled as she looked over the site. “Once the pools’ installation is complete, you’ll be called upon as the highest military authority in the land to dedicate the sword pool. After all, where better for one to dedicate one’s life than in the eyes of great ones of the past and the present? Especially when the war prevented you from doing so in your own time.”
“You mean … I am to be the first to use the pool?”
“Yup,” she giggled.
Pensword gulped.
“When light and dark unite as one, an evil power shall be undone, but which of the choices will then hold sway, to swathe in shadow or light of day? Only one can make that choice. Will she save, or just destroy?” Vital Spark queried playfully as he approached a familiar blue mare in the middle of practicing balancing the two sides of her magic. The cool Autumn breeze played through his mane, and he couldn’t help but chuckle as Trixie jumped in the air, knocking her hat off her head, and leaving her mane in a mess as the sphere she had been forming burst apart to sprinkle the clearing with a sparkling grey dust. The gnarled dark branches of the Everfree’s trees stretched mournfully up to the sky as their crowns rattled together.
“Don’t do that!” Trixie shouted, punching him in the shoulder.
“You know that just makes me want to do it all the more,” Vital teased. “It’s fun seeing how you react. And besides, it’s kinda cute,” he said as he wiggled his eyebrows.
“Vital, this is real, right? Trixie means ... you're not just humoring her?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Let’s just say I’m feeling this out,” Vital conceded. “I still have to adjust to the whole part time human part time Pony thing, and how that works for relationships. That, and it’s just plain fun to tease you sometimes. Which I ... think is a good sign? I don’t really know. I’ve … never actually been in a relationship before.”
“I suppose Trixie will have to live with that,” she said as she took a seat, and looked up at the passing clouds. “This is a first for Trixie as well.”
“The Great and Powerful Trixie never went on a date with one of her many admirers?”
“The Great and Powerful Trixie's many admirers preferred to keep a respectful distance.” Trixie almost sighed as she said this.
“... You weren’t just looking for adoration, were you? You were looking for friends.”
“Life can be … difficult when you work as a traveling magician,” Trixie admitted.
“And your family?” he asked as he moved in closer, and took a seat next to her.
“Trixie hails from Neigh Orleans, raised by Trixie’s father, and chased out at sixteen for acting better than everypony else with my ‘fancy shmancy magic show, and talking all proper like.’ Trixie hasn’t been back since.”
“Ouch.” Vital winced. “That’s rough.”
“Life is rough.” Trixie shrugged.
“Have you at least tried to keep in contact?”
“It was made clear that would be a bad idea,” Trixie said. “Just as well. Trixie doesn’t want to think what they’d say about her failure at being a magician.”
“You’re being trained by one of the most powerful Unicorns to ever live, and you’re serving in one of the most famous noble houses in all of Equestria. I wouldn’t exactly call that a failure,” Vital pointed out.
“I also got my cart destroyed in a giant bear attack, and tried to take over an entire town,” Trixie responded.
“Growing pains?” Vital offered by way of explanation. That got a laugh out of the enchantress-in-training. “Seriously, though, the first was a learning experience, and the second was more the fault of the amulet than you. It’s good to be hard on yourself, but be careful not to let it go too far. Trust me, I speak from experience,” he said as he laid a supportive foreleg over her shoulder.
“Trixie appreciates that.” She gave Vital Spark a half smile.
“And Vital is happy to help,” he returned with that same gentle smile he always used. “Is a sense of protectiveness natural in most stallions with mares here, or is that just for when they have feelings for one another? I’m … not exactly certain how it works here compared to Earth.”
“Trixie isn’t quite sure either, as Trixie hasn’t been in a relationship before, but she imagines that might be it.”
“The former or the latter?”
“The latter.”
“You know, I know this is a potentially romantic moment, but now I can’t help but feel an unusual urge to try and conduct a study on the topic,” Vital mused. “Why do I get the feeling Clover and Twilight are rubbing off on me?”
“Probably because they are,” Trixie giggled.
“Think you can handle hanging out with a nerd?”
“If that nerd is you.” Trixie smiled at him.
“Um … there’s something else you should probably know about.” He chuckled nervously. “You see … I … kind of met this girl when we were in that other world, and she’s from here originally, but she kinda kissed me, and I don’t know how to feel about it, because I’ve never been kissed before, and it’s really kinda making me guilty and crazy, and uncertain, and–.”
“And?” trixie asked in a genuinely confused tone.
“I … might have felt an attraction there, too?”
“Trixie doesn’t believe she’s following.”
“Well, where I come from, that’s usually a cause for concern. Most girls have issues if a guy has seen another girl previously and still has feelings for that girl, and doesn’t bring it up. I … don’t know if I do or not. It’s sort of complicated, but my conscience won’t give me a minute’s peace about it.” He took a deep breath, and sighed to prevent himself from hyperventilating. “So … yeah. I … kinda felt I had to tell you. Is … that okay?”
Trixie laughed “Trixie doesn’t see the problem with you having feelings for this other mare. You still have feelings for Trixie, don’t you? How does you having feelings for her change things? You're a very silly Pony, Vital Spark.”
“Well what did you expect? I wasn’t born as one.” He chuckled nervously. “I was kindof raised to believe in a monogamous relationship. It’s … difficult adjusting to the fact that’s not quite the same here, culturally speaking. I mean, there’s precedent for those kinds of things on Earth, but it’s not a commonly held practice anymore, and usually frowned upon.” He sighed. “I guess what I’m trying to say is this is going to take some adjusting to. My morality’s going to need some sorting out, probably. So … yeah, if I’m a little awkward at first, let me just apologize in advance,” he said as he rubbed his mane nervously.
“You probably come from a species with a more equal gender ratio,” Trixie noted. “If Equestria tried that, the Pony population would die out.”
“You know, I always wondered why there were so many more mares than colts. Is it just more common for a girl to be born?”
Trixie nodded. “It has been, as far as Trixie knows, since recorded time.”
“That explains so much.” Vital took another deep breath, and exhaled. “So, um … wanna hang out?” he asked as he smiled awkwardly.
“You had to ask?” Trixie smiled at him.
“Well, it is the gentlemanly thing to do. Or is it gentlepony-ish? Just how the heck do you call that here, anyways?” Vital asked as his muzzle scrunched up in confusion.
“Gentlestallion.” She giggled again. “Lead the way.”
“If fair lady desires an escort, then an escort she shall have. Tally ho!” Vital shouted boisterously as he did his best to impersonate a posh noble accent to hilarious effect, then promptly tripped over a tree root, and landed flat on his face. “Ow….”
And Trixie giggled.
Grif sat behind his desk, and sighed as he reviewed the paper Dagger had just delivered. This latest correspondence from the empire had just been through decoding, and he was updating himself on the current news. He’d already sent a message to Pensword to arrive at his convenience about one message in particular.
A few moments later, Grif heard the expected knock. “Come in,” he said, “and close the door behind you.”
Pensword opened the door, turned around, and closed it as requested, using a wing to lock the door, before he settled down on a nearby pillow that had been set aside for Pony guests. “So what’s the deal?”
“Well, imperial troops discovered a large pocket of resistance hauled up in the Eastern Fortress. They have a strong position, and it looks like the siege may go on longer than expected. As such, the wedding is going to be moved back at least a month to allow Daedalus time to deal with the issue.”
“Ah. I am sorry to hear that,” Pensword said with a sober nod. “I hope his attack goes well. I speak from experience when I say sieging for months is never fun.” He shook his head. “Is he asking for any assistance?” He paused as he grated his teeth together out of habit. “He is the only other Gryphon I would say this for, other than your clan and my Gryphon slayers, but what assistance can we be for him?”
“He won’t need it,” Grif assured him. “His force is superior, and they have no way to hunt or import supplies. He’s confident they’ll break it. There’s nothing we can do for him there. That being said, there is a favor he has asked that I think you’d enjoy.”
“Oh? What is that?” Pensword asked as his ears stood at attention.
“Well, see, as I’m sure you're aware, all my messages from Daedalus come to me in cypher, and go through a heavy decryption process before I can review them. But what you and most here don’t know is I have given Daedalus a deeper set of code, so he can send me private messages not to be read by either of our coding experts. This one had a very… unusual request added to it.”
Pensword motioned with a wing for Grif to continue.
“The message reads thus: The bearers of these messages are spies, please have them killed.”
“Bearers, and … spies. That means plural.” Pensword slowly put it together, and a manic grin spread across his face. “Can I have one? I would like to see if I can get any information out of mine.”
Grif chuckled, and threw him a brass key. “All three are currently drugged in a holding cell in the fortress. Seeing as these Gryphons are messengers, it would be … uncouth for a clan lord such as myself to have their blood on my talons. As Matthew is aware, humans like to say, ‘don’t shoot the messenger.’ However, they have not been messengers to you.”
“So you want me to deal with all three of them?” Pensword’s grin widened further as his eyes lit up with excitement.
“I could ask for volunteers in the clan, but I figured you might be willing, as a favor between friends?” Grif chuckled.
“As friends, and to show any spies that, if the Demon learns about them, he will come down on them. The Emperor has earned my respect, and his life from my fangs. I will not let others undo the blood I spilled to save his.”
“These three’s last memories will be passing out at a meal. I played everything off as though nothing were happening. Their wine was drugged with a fast-acting, tasteless concoction I got from Zecora. I figured you might enjoy the shock and surprise.”
“Oh…” Pensword’s voice was tinged with a smugness not heard since the end of the Third Gryphon War. “I am going to enjoy this. And if they die before I get all I want, I think some of my friends on the other side could keep them here till I do get the information. I think this enemy spy ring is one I want Daedalus able to crack and destroy. You could say this would be my wedding gift to him,” he said as he rose from the cushion. “Was there anything else you wanted to discuss, before I go to meet our ‘guests?’”
“Only for you to enjoy yourself.” Grif chuckled. “It’s not every day an opportunity like this falls into your hooves.”
“True, and trust me … I will enjoy this. It is time some Gryphons learn that I am still the Demon. I am still the Commander that can beat them at their own games and haunt their nightmares for eons after.” WIth that, Pensword stood up, and his ice-blue eyes hardened. “I won’t be back for a while. I think Lunar Fang would enjoy this as well, and Fox Feather, too,” he mused as he made his way out the door to the bonding time he knew both mares would love. It was so kind of Daedalus to provide three spies. Now they wouldn’t have to share.
“You know, Clover,” Vital mused as he looked over one of the great mage’s many bookshelves, “it looks almost as if you put a special emphasis on summoning. Are these supposed to be decoy books, or do you just conjure up bookshelves from a subspace pocket as you need them to cycle through?” he asked curiously.
“Remember when I told you about how the size of your pocket dimension can be increased exponentially through use of the crystals from Bellephorn Nine? I spent three days in those caves, before The Doctor found me. I don’t have a pocket dimension, so much as a pocket library.”
“So you only gathered so many crystals to build said library, and couldn’t expand further, or did the library just fill all the space? Also, was this your first encounter with The Doctor or an adventure he dragged you out on later down the line?”
“It was after first meeting him, but still relatively early on in our adventures. I was only … twenty-six, I think. Ah, to be young and naive again.”
“It can be fun,” Vital agreed with a playful smile, “when it doesn’t blow up in your face.”
“Sooner or later, everything blows up in your face. The question is, are you the sort to scream about your singed eyebrows, or do you wipe the soot off, repair the nerve damage, regrow your facial fur, and try again?” Clover noted.
“Why am I not surprised that happened to you?” Vital asked as he looked over the volumes one last time, before returning to the work table, where Clover awaited him. He knew better than to try looking at magic Clover didn’t deem him ready for. After all, she’d very nearly targeted a very sensitive area with a bolt of lightning. He hated to think what might happen if she sought to actually hurt him. He snorted as his brows furrowed together in preparation for the lesson to come. “So what’s on the docket today, then?”
“First off, how did it go? Were you able to see this Gryphon deity?”
“Well, yeah. She’s the one who gave me my newest addition to my cutie mark.”
“What addition?” she asked curiously.
“The big honking … oh, that’s right. She said she could do that. Man, The Doctor must hate how easily she’s able to do stuff like that. At least, I assume so, since it’s technically meddling with time. Though it does make me wonder … does that mean she has the secret to that deity code? Oh, what did The Doctor call it again?” he mused.
“We can hypothesize on this later. First, what was the change, second, were you successful?” Clover pressed.
“Oh, sorry.” Vital blushed as he realized how he’d gone off track. “The mark on my flank with the outline of the bird stretching its wings behind the sun and star. That was her doing. As for whether it was a success, yes, I’d say it was. She told me what I needed to do. Now it’s just a matter of waiting till the egg is ready to hatch.”
“Fascinating. You know, you are the only Pony known who’s ever seen one of the four Gryphon deities,” Clover noted.
“She was kind of nice, but I think she viewed me more like a child than anything else. Considering she’s on a whole separate plane of existence, it makes sense,” he said with a shrug. “I did have to make a promise to her, though.”
“Well, you couldn’t expect her to help you for free,” Clover noted. “Any magic gained that easily would be worthless.”
“Even the magic of friendship?” Vital asked teasingly.
“The fruit of harmony? Why, Vital, I figured you’d have clued in by now. There is a hefty price taken upon those who would wield them. Some might say the worst price possible.”
“Are you referring to long life, or is this going to turn out to be some sort of joke?”
“Long life? Vital Spark, to wield the elements is to give up your mortality, to become ageless, and walk the Earth until you are either destroyed or time ends.” Vital could swear she shivered at this thought.
“Then doesn’t that mean you were under, and likely still are under, the same toll? You were one of the first to use the elements’ power, weren’t you?”
“First off, did it occur to you the glaring flaw in your theory that both Smart Cookie and Pansy died of old age? They both reached surprisingly old ages for their tribes, yes, but they did die of age. Also, as you can plainly see, I continue to age myself. Even if the process is slowed, my body is showing signs already. Secondly, and most important, what we created wasn’t from the elements. It was the fire of friendship, a single brilliant flame, and it nearly killed the three of us.”
“I thought it was the windigos that nearly killed you.” Vital sighed, and rubbed the bridge of his muzzle. “Okay. I probably should have asked you this a long time ago. What really happened back then?”
“Well, we didn’t set off all conveniently at the same time in groups of two, find each other, argue over the land, and then get forced into a cave to make nice,” she said as she pulled out a flask, and emptied a generous portion into her tea.
“For starters, it wasn’t an argument that summoned the Windigos, it was a war. The Earth Ponies had rebelled, and in doing so, had cut off the food supply. Without food, the Pegasi became desperate, and turned on us. Arrows, spears, and spells flew for days, with no side gaining a clear victory. The Pegasi were better trained, of course, but an army marches on its stomach, and despite how the modern books paint it, Unicornia had a nice fine film of arrogance and neglect around it. The only effective spell casters fit for combat were in the royal guard. The rest could barely make a shield. As for myself, I was forbidden to get involved. Star Swirl made it clear it was not our place to foster the stupidity of any one tribe, even our own. Still, what can I say? I had the misfortune of being the princess’ companion, and thus, at that age, my loyalties were mixed and confused. Then there was the damned meeting….” Clover took a drink from her tea, then a second hit from her flask.
“As you heard, the windigos came, though we didn’t realize it at the time. And with them came the ice and the snow. At first, we figured it was some type of Pegasi tactic, but when they started freezing to death, well, when a species that lives in higher and colder altitudes starts freezing to death, you know something's wrong. Finally, Bullion came to Star Swirl, literally on his knees, begging him to do something. And what did my genius mentor do? He used the respect he had amongst the three tribes to arrange a peace summit. Now don’t get me wrong. The idea was okay. Hurricane was many things, but he wasn’t stupid, and the chancellor was an eccentric, not a sadist. Things would have been fine, if the king had sent the royal ambassador to the meeting, or a trained diplomat. But no, he decided to send his arrogant, stuck-up, self-aggrandising, center-of-her-own-universe daughter. Now the modern telling of the tale tells you blame is to be spread equally, but keep in mind most history books are scribed by Unicorns, my student.”
“And some Unicorns are still rather biased?”
“When we entered the hall, Platinum threw a fit, because, well, her guards bowed, the Unicorns bowed, I bowed, but the Pegasi refused to bow. They saluted with their spears, instead. I tried to tell her this was a show of respect, but, at the risk of sounding repetitive, no. She insisted they bow. It took fifteen minutes to get her to let that go, and we started the meeting right off the bat with a third of the group angered. But then you’d think that surely, at the table, being a Princess, Platinum would know to show proper respect in her speech and actions, right?”
“Based on how much you’ve disparaged her thus far, I’m guessing not,” Vital mused as he used his magic to shift a pair of chairs for the two to sit in.
Clover sat down, took another calming sip, and resumed her narrative. “She called them Feather Brains and Mud Ponies. The entire time. It was the most embarrassing thing I’d ever seen. At first, there was talk of lower taxes, better land distribution. The Earth Ponies wanted a fair compromise of having an Earth Pony representative party in all official meetings. Hurricane just wanted the food to be available again. At first, I thought Platinum was considering these issues. She just sort of sat there, stone-faced, listening.” She groaned, and shook her head. “Oh, how wrong I was, Vital. How wrong I was. Out of nowhere, she suddenly asked Hurricane when they can expect the Pegasi to stop killing everypony with the cold, and the chancellor about when the Mud Ponies could ‘return to their proper places.’ As you can guess, things sort of … exploded.”
“The kind of explosion you mentioned earlier about destroying your face, and requiring hard work and grit to get back again?”
“Good. You’ve been paying attention. Anyway, after that point, things went pretty much the way the story says. They argued, blame started getting flung around, and then each leader stormed out, giving their aides little more than enough time for me to give them apologetic smiles. The king was … unhappy with his daughter's actions. Star Swirl was beyond furious. He ranted and raved for a solid day about the stupidity of her actions, and my lack of action. That’s not an exaggeration, either. He didn’t stop talking for a full twenty-four hours. I clocked it.” Clover chuckled at the memory.
“After that, the king met with me and Star Swirl privately to discuss what could be done. We needed fertile land. With time, we could grow our own crops with spells, but not through the ice and snow. Also, Platinum needed to disappear for a while, lest she not survive the next few months. The plan was actually Star Swirl’s. He would take an expedition to explore lands to the south, but it would seem as though Platinum were leading the party to everypony but the highest ranking Unicorns with us. The hope was that this action would regain her some small amount of favor with the populace. It was quite possible that, should we succeed, free land would become our bargaining chip for calming the Pegasi and the Earth Ponies. So we left by nightfall in a convoy of fifty or so. We traveled for weeks. Pairs of two would take turns scouting the road ahead, looking for the path. It was on one of these scouting missions with Star Swirl that I first met a Pony who would change everything I believed about how the world worked.”
“Hammer Strike.”
“Yes.” Clover nodded. “But Star Swirl decided to leave him be, for the time being, which made sense. Who knows what Platinum would have done to an Earth Pony using magic and farming in the middle of winter? So, eventually, the snow ended, and we found green grass and leafy trees in a valley at the foothold of the mountains. These footholds were filled with caves that dripped with gems. We camped, we fed, and we celebrated our victory, only to find out days later that an Earth Pony camp had been spotted at the other end of the valley, and a Pegasus platform was hovering somewhere near the center. We were a simple expedition. We had maybe five battle mages amongst us. Pegasi were a military society. How much of a chance do you think we’d have had in a fight?”
“Probably not much,”Vital conceded.
“Our saving grace, of course, was Star Swirl. We could be confident his reputation would keep them at a distance, at least for a while, but … the valley was only so large. Foraging parties eventually came into conflict, and then … the ice and snow returned. Ponies went from being at each others’ throats to finding any resources they could, before they froze. Finally, as the play says, we found the cave, and our three glorious leaders had their heads so far up their plots that they argued themselves to a near-death cryofreeze. Now here is the start of things. Cookie, Pansy, and I had met several times before, during Star Swirl’s many pilgrimages to magical spots of power. I liked them. We got along well. So, with our leaders out, we put our heads together, using each other for warmth as we tried to work out a plan. I tried every fire spell I could think of. It wasn’t until I was nearly out of mana, when Cookie offered his for me to use. Pansy stepped in to say I could use hers, instead. In the end, I pointed out we could extend the supply, if I used a little from each of them. When I did, and combined it with my own mana, well … yeah. You know the story from there.”
“By the power of three was the darkness undone with three parts of the whole cast by the creator. And thus shall her children stand against all who wish their end, provided that harmony remain,” Vital said. “Sorry about that. I like to wax poetic sometimes, even if what I say isn't necessarily true.”
“Now, what you think you know is, after that, the three tribes were united, and we built Unity around Celestia and Luna. That’s a lie perpetrated by someone who wanted to disappear from history. Care to take a guess as to who that might have been?”
“Do I even want to know?”
“You already know,” Clover said. “You just don’t know him yet. Or rather, you don’t know the him that I knew. He has to become him, before he can be him.”
“Time travel?”
Clover took another long drag from her flask, and a minimal sip from her teacup. “Let me put it this way, Vital. The person you know as Hammer Strike, he’s most definitely the person Star Swirl and I met that day, but he isn’t the one I worked for. He’s part of it, but there was much more … muchness to come.”
“Oh, you did not just pull an Alice in Wonderland reference on me,” Vital said.
“I think we’re done for today,” Clover said with a surprisingly melancholy sigh. “And for the record, Vital, don’t judge Platinum too harshly. She was young in those days. We all were. She mellowed out afterwards, and ended up doing a lot of good.”
“Anything I can do to help? That didn’t sound like one of your usual sighs.”
“Don’t worry about me. I’m just an old mare looking back on old regrets.”
“Well … if you need someone to talk to, I’m always around,” Vital offered as he made his way towards the door. “I like the people I care about to be happy.”
“I’ll see you later, Vital,” she said tiredly as she turned to stare into space.
“... Goodbye, I guess, Clover. Just … feel better soon.”
Grif took a deep breath as he sat in the dark of a clearing deep, deep inside the Everfree Forest on his haunches. His tail was carefully wrapped to avoid any possibilities of hurting it. His paws were crossed on the ground. It had taken considerable work, but the bottoms of both paws were facing upwards.
Before him, several books and scrolls were splayed out, some of them volumes he’d brought from Earth detailing theories about internal energies: chi, ki, chakra, all that crazy anime stuff. The scrolls, however, were what made him crazy enough to be out here. Celestia had taken these from Minotaurs and Goats, and each described similar phenomenon being used by their most holy and seclusive shamans.
It was not easy getting these from the Canterlot archive, but, thankfully, with the wedding in the castle, Grif had been given an opportunity to look for useful information. It had been a slow process, of course. A few scrolls here or there, never enough to draw suspicion from the guards. Lastly, he had his thaumic book opened to the chapter on suppressing one's field laid before him. A double brass ring covered two of his claws. It had taken a lot to convince Twilight to make it for him, as magic-suppressing rings were highly restricted. It felt wrong not being able to feel his magical field, but from what he’d read so far, it would act as interference to what he was trying to discover.
Grif took several deep, controlled breaths, then brought his talons together as he tried desperately to clear his mind. One reason after another for his current situation flashed through his mind: all the battles, everything he had faced, the fact that magic was finite, and while thaumaturgy was efficient, his understanding of it would take years before he’d be able to use it to the same degree as Hammer Strike. However, if his theory proved correct, this method might help to fill the gap. These scrolls referred to physical energy. It was generated by one's stamina, and how good one’s physical shape was. Fortunately for Grif, he was in great shape. Long years of training in running, aerobic, and physical exercises combined with intense weapons training had left him with strength, endurance, and great physical form. If he could harness this new force, he’d have a weapon in case things got desperate.
Having finally pushed those reasons through his mind, he let them go, and pushed the other thoughts away, focusing on what was around him, instead: the sound of the night wind, the chill in the air, the music of the spheres above. Of course, this was far from his first time. He’d been attempting this experiment since they’d returned from the wedding, and he always fell short of what he needed. Still, he could swear he was getting close. Even now, he found that internal hum, the cool motion within. Sometimes light, like a breeze. Sometimes violent, like a typhoon. He tried to move it, to leash it to his will, and it fought him. He attempted to gently prod and coax it, and it ignored him. Every attempt had been met with failure. Twice, he thought he’d gotten it, only for it to evaporate through his metaphorical fingers.
Frustration finally overtook him, and he snapped back to reality, growling as he relaxed his posture. “It’s there, right in front of me, so why is it I can’t take control?”
“You are doing well from what I can see,” a familiar voice spoke up, “but you are your own worst enemy.”
Grif turned his head to see Zecora’s serene expression as she sat in the same position Grif had taken, only she lay atop her vertical staff in perfect balance.
“Oh, so what, you’re an expert on manifesting physical energy now, too?” Grif asked in an unamused tone.
“When you have traveled the world as much as I, there are many things that catch your eye, many creatures with good techniques, and teaching styles most unique. I have learned a thing or two, and perhaps my experience will be of help to you,” Zecora said with a half smile. “You cannot fight where the wind will roll. It is better yet to surrender control.”
“Meaning?” Grif asked.
“If your power you would subdue, then submission first must come from you.” Zecora pointed a hoof forward, and a small beam of blue light shot from her hoof, knocking a branch off a nearby tree. “Humility will be your key.”
“So you're saying I shouldn’t try to take control, but I should let it give me control?” Grif raised an eyebrow.
Zecora said nothing, grinning as she gestured with a hoof, as though to say, ‘try it and see.’
Rolling his eyes, Grif took a breath, brought his talons in, and tried again. Once more, he dove into his being, and found that cool billowing energy within. He submerged himself in it, let it flow around him, then let himself go. It was difficult at first. His mind constantly rebelled against him, demanding to make the power his tool, to command it, bend it to his will. Still, the more he let go, the better he felt as the energy washed over him like an early spring breeze. He felt it in his ethereal feathers, and through his fur as it caressed his wings, and his physical form extended them without his realising it.
Unseen by the meditating Gryphon, a pinprick of light formed between his talons. It glowed a bright bluish-white, and grew slowly, gaining in size and luminosity, until he held a small ball of energy the size of a baseball between his two hands. When Grif finally opened his eyes, they widened in surprise as he observed the energy between his fingers. Sadly, at that point, he lost his concentration, and the connection to the force evaporated.
“A great journey begins with a simple act. Your path is begun, and you know what you lacked.” Zecora smiled kindly at him.
“Well, if it’s a journey, I could use a guide.” Grif looked at her, his unsaid question hanging in the air.
“In this quest for knowledge, I will gladly aid you, but prepare yourself. We have much to do. The ways of the shaman may take its toll, but it is an art I have known since I was but a foal.” Zecora smiled, a smile that Grif would very much come to despise in the coming weeks of nightly training.
“Somebody, get the Commander!” Me-Me’s voice echoed through the caverns and hive mind, not for the first time, as she worked around the medical pod. Several Changelings ran helter skelter around her in the hubbub of the rapid flashing from the cocoon and the tsunami of anxiety and worry that flowed from their queen. By now, all of them were the same rusty red color, including Me-Me herself. The former royal carapace had been set aside, until the hive could decide what to do with it. Currently, mixtures of crystalized love, Pony food, and royal jelly were being hastily prepared by the many Lings that had been serving in the kitchens. Several praetorians stood by, in case the patient reacted violently upon hatching. They did not wish to risk the warrior harming himself. A Changeling who had absorbed the combined available knowledge on therapeutic techniques was also on hand, ready to react at a moment’s notice with compounds, reagents, and a few basic spells that might prove useful, should the need arise.
Pensword bolted into the cavern with ragged breath, and a giggling Moon River on his back as she clung to his mane. One crossbow smacked against Pensword’s flank, while moon River clutched possessively at her own, clearly indicating the practice the pair had been engaged in when the call came. “So,” he panted, “what’s the sitrep?”
“We’ve got rudimentary alpha brainwaves,” Me-Me explained. “That means he’s going to be waking up within the next few minutes. We wanted him to have a familiar face, and … well, he looks up to you most, Pensword.”
Pensword nodded his understanding. He turned his head back to look very seriously at his daughter. “Now Moon River, when he is ready, and Me-Me says you can, I want you to give him a big hug, understood?”
Moon River nodded cutely as she watched the cocoon with a fascinated curiosity that only the very young seem capable of replicating. Pensword couldn’t help but smile as the hint of tears began to appear in the corners of his eyes. The gambit had pulled off. Silver Spear was alive, and would soon awaken. Now it was his job to make sure the soldier didn’t hurt himself in the process.
There were several tense moments, and then, suddenly, a hoof poked out from a normally indiscernible slit in the cocoon. It only took a few seconds for it to reach the ground, but to the watchers, it seemed like hours. Slowly, but surely, Silver Spear emerged in a flood of nutrient and love-enriched liquids. His fur and chiton were soaked, his movements staggered and jerky, and his long mane obscured his vision, but it was clearly him as he slowly stood to his full height with a dazed expression.
Pensword raised an eyebrow. “You’ve grown.” It was all he could manage, given the circumstances. “You ... feeling okay?”
“I … don’t know, Sir. What … what happened?” Silver Spear lifted a hoof to pull back his mane, revealing the left side of his face had been covered in the same jutting chiton. The beginnings of a mandible reminiscent to the Changeling guards’ carapace armor had pressed out the side of his jaw, and twitched slightly in the cold drafts of the caverns. His left eye had become a multi-faceted solid blue orb, and the chiton on his left shoulder jutted upwards in a strangely flame-like pattern. The copper-colored plating hadn’t stopped there, though. In his body’s urge to adapt to the rapid changes, the chitin had spread to cover the other side of his chest, his right shoulder, and even a ways down his back and barrel, granting a natural armor that would prove useful in future battles, should the need arise. “The last thing I remember, I was fighting Chrysalis, the swarm … and then … then….” He winced, and reached up to prod his horn with his new hoof, only for his eyes to widen as he felt the curve, and noticed the suddenly furless condition of his appendage.
“You ... you were surrounded. You almost died. When … when Grif found you–.” Pensword paused, and took a deep breath to steady himself. “I need you to keep calm, Silver Spear. Can you do that for me?”
“Sir … what did you do to me?”
Pensword winced. “We used an untested procedure to save your life. I ... that is to say, we all hope you are not too mad about it. We couldn't afford to lose such a good officer … and a good friend.”
“And he definitely means we,” Me-Me said as she stepped forward. “Welcome back, Silver Spear. It’s good to see you up on your hooves again. I speak for the entire hive when I say we couldn’t bear to lose you.”
“I … almost died? Why can’t I remember?”
“First off, with the injuries you sustained, it is a miracle you were pulled off the field alive. That could account for some of the memory loss. There was also … some brain damage. Me-Me and her hive did what they could, but, as we said, this procedure was experimental at best. To repair what you lost, your body adapted by developing Changeling cells that were compatible with your regular ones.”
“Cells?”
“Think of it like a transfer of magical essence,” Me-Me explained, “only this transfer affected you physically, rather than magically. It worked to restore what was lost, but as you can see, it left a mark, so to speak.”
“As a result, you may lose some memories from the battle. They could simply be repressed for now, or they could be completely gone.” Despite this news, Pensword grinned. “Fortunately, from what I can see thus far, your personality and mental faculties are still the same. That is good, considering what is likely to occur for you. There will be some … adjustments for you to make.”
“Adjustments?” Silver Spear asked as he blinked in surprise, then chuckled as a blue blur clung to his leg, and nuzzled up against him. “Hello, Moon River. I see you’ve grown.”
Moon River just looked up at him with that cheeky grin of hers, and stuck her tongue out.
“According to Me-Me, the parts of you that are Changeling, including your brain, will give you a link to the hive mind.”
“But … I don’t hear anything. Are you sure I’m supposed to be connected?”
“I’ve muted your connection for now,” Me-Me explained. “Best not to overwhelm you too much on your first day. We’ve prepared a variety of potential foods for you to try, just in case your tastes may have changed,” she said as she motioned towards the piles of food and royal jelly. “Doubtless, you must be hungry, and you’ll need sustenance to help build up your strength again. Your body has been in a coma for the last several months.
“Months?” Silver Spear balked.
“We’ve kept things running, and everyone has been rooting for you to pull through. We also informed your father, and have given him regular status updates about your condition. Now that you are no longer in stasis, we can inform him that the procedure was a success. We will likely need to give you time to adapt, before we can let him see you, but once you’ve gained control of yourself and any new abilities that may surface as a result of the treatment, we’ll arrange for you to meet.”
“My father?”
“Yes. And we’re going to be having a very long chat about a certain set of paperwork that seems to have mysteriously been lost in its transmission to my desk, Colonel Silver Spear.”
“Yes, Sir.” Silver Spear’s face fell with the news, before suddenly zipping back upwards with alert eyes as his horn sparked. “Wait, what did you just say?”
Pensword chuckled. “I said Colonel Silver Spear. Congratulations. You’ve been promoted. Also, due to your unique position with our Changeling associates, and their high regard for you, I have taken counsel with the princesses. They agreed with my suggestion. As soon as you are fully recovered, you are to begin your official duties as an Equestrian ambassador and teacher for the Everfree Hive. You will help them to adapt to Equestrian culture, and teach them how to make friends and function in our society. Oh, and by the way, be ready for a full ceremony of commendation when you return. Your service is to be acknowledged and celebrated with all the activities that entails.”
“Sir, I … I don’t know what to say.” At that moment, Silver Spear’s stomach rumbled loudly, echoing its demands throughout the cavern for everyone to hear. He blushed heavily. “Excuse me,” he said somewhat timidly.
Moon River burst into a fit of giggles, followed by everyone else as the tension broke, and happiness and mirth filled the room.
“Welcome home, Silver Spear,” Pensword finally said with a truly relieved smile.
“Thank you, Sir. It’s … it’s good to be back.”
The four members of the CMC looked bashfully at Vital Spark, who was currently stuck in a solid layer of ice in the basin of the Ponyville fountain. The dirt surrounding the structure smoldered with the remains of the flames that had somehow been stirred up there. It certainly didn’t help that Vital’s white coat had been covered in purple polka dots, and the fountain had somehow been painted a deep forest green. Six wheels, scraps of wood, and half a propeller had been embedded in a wall of hay bales. Nobody knew what had become of the other half. A wagon had been practically shattered by a spire of earth jutting from the ground, and, finally, everything but the fountain was dripping in some type of hybrid between syrup and tree sap.
“Sorry, Mister Spark,” Applebloom muttered as Sweetie Belle chipped at the ice. It didn’t help that Button was poking his head up over the hay bales with his muzzle dropped open in shock. His beanie’s propeller spun slowly.
“Sweetie Belle, could you please back away?” Vital asked in a carefully controlled tone the filly knew only too well. She did so immediately as Vital’s horn flared to life. In a matter of moments, the ice wavered like a mirage, before returning to its liquid state once again, leaving the polkadotted Pony rather thoroughly soaked. “Now then,” he said primly as he stepped out of the basin, and shook the water as best he could from his coat. Unfortunately, the other changes still remained. “What have we learned about trying to use big Pony magic?”
The Four ponies looked at each other, and then Dinky cocked her head. “Who are you asking? There are five of us here. Six, if we count you.”
“Honestly, I expected this from Sweetie Belle, Dinky, but you know better,” Vital sighed as he shook his head. “Just look at all this.” He groaned as he levitated the chunks of lumber and other parts out from the hay bales, then laid them on the ground. “Magic makes for great shortcuts sometimes, but it’s easy to lose control of, if you don’t have the proper practice and discipline, especially when it’s more advanced. You’re still much too young to be focusing on advanced elemental transmutation, Sweetie. Just look at the changes you made to the area, not to mention to me on a molecular level, I might add,” he said as he pointed to a giant polkadot on his face.
Uh… that was actually my fault with the potion,” Apple Bloom said as she scuffed a hoof nervously on the ground. “Sorry about that. I guess you had an allergic reaction? Only thing that makes sense, really. All it was suppose to do was make your coat sparkle.”
Scootaloo rolled her eyes from her spot in the only tree in the area, which was not the source of the sap, but was covered in tinsel. “Still,” she said as a manic grin crossed over her muzzle. “Did you see how high I got off the ground? That was epic!”
Button cleared his throat. “Uh … I came up with the original idea,” he added sheepishly. “Should I be down there, too?”
Sweetie Belle blushed, before looking at Button. “Why isn’t your hat covered like the rest of us?”
“Anti-stain spell,” he explained. “Some bullies spilled pomegranate juice on it, and Mom helped fix it. Twilight helped with the magic,”
“First of all, I want two things. I want a list of the ingredients you used for the potion, along with the book you took it from. Then I want that spell book you used, so I can set all this chaos right. Honestly, it’s like you were trying to make an offering to Discord.”
“Did somepony call my name?” Discord asked as he flashed into existence, and spread his arms wide. “Tada!” Then he looked at Vital, and smirked. “Ooh, Vital, love the new look. Did you do something with your fur? Wait, don’t tell me. You went and got it cut. No, that can’t be it. Hooves polished? Mane brushed? Spa package?” With each item listed, a tool or object associated with the feature poofed out of thin air, and began to work on Discord, before poofing out of existence.
“Ooh, and the square’s never looked better. What brilliant architect arranged this little masterpiece?” the Draconequus asked as he spun around in the air. When the blur that was his body returned to normal, a painter’s smock and black beret hung on his body and between his horns respectively. A thick paintbrush had been clutched in his lion paw as he shut his left eye, and shifted his taloned hand like one trying to gain perspective as a canvas and easel appeared to his right, and a paint pallet hovered next to him. “Such delicious chaos. I simply must capture it for future generations.”
“Speak of the devil. Great,” Vital growled.
“Aww, Vital Spark, why so glum, chum?” Discord flicked a talon under the Unicorn’s chin with his usual smirk.
“Aside from the fact I narrowly avoided an elemental explosion the likes of which hasn’t been seen since Twilight’s little outburst at Celestia’s School for Gifted Foals?”
“I do like the look, you know. Spots are all the rage this year.”
“Beside the point, Discord. Think you could maybe help us out?”
“Well now, that depends. Are you asking me, or telling me?”
“I think we both know the answer to that question, Discord,” Vital pointed out. “You know how I feel about ordering you around.”
“So, just to be clear, you are asking me?”
“That would be a yes. Besides, Hammer Strike isn’t here to police you right now, and a bit of good behavior like this could go a long ways towards getting on his more tolerant side.”
“Oh, all right,” Discord said as he rolled his eyes. “But you owe me, Vital Spark.”
“How about I bake you some of my famous chocolate chip cookies?”
Discord stiffened as he took a heavy gulp to prevent the sudden spurt of saliva from shooting out his mouth with the strength of a fire hose. “With milk?”
“I should think so, though I prefer eating my cookies by themselves, personally.”
Discord zoomed uncomfortably close to Vital as he narrowed his gaze and lowered his voice to his more conspiratorial tone. “Make it a double batch, and we’ve got a deal.”
Vital Spark extended his hoof. “Then we have an accord. Or should I say … Discord?” he asked as he wiggled his eyebrows.
Discord shrugged. “Meh. I’ve heard worse.” Then he shook Vital’s hoof. With a snap of his fingers, everything was made right again. It was as if the chaos had never been. Meanwhile, the painting’s canvas had been filled to the brim with the chaotic scene and an ominous shadow in the background with a single glinting snaggletooth.
“Not bad,” Vital complimented. “You really captured the essence of the moment.”
“Well, I’m no timelord, but I do try my best.”
“It definitely shows. Now then, as for you five,” Vital said pointedly as he rounded on the children, “you’re all going to apologize to every Pony you’ve upset today with your antics, and then we’re going to take you directly to Twilight, where you will personally apologize to her for taking that book without permission, and performing magic without proper supervision. I will also be making sure to alert your parents or guardians to your irresponsible behavior.”
Dinky chuckled nervously. “Actually, this … isn’t Twilight’s book. It’s mine. Just not yet.” She muttered the last part, so only Vital could hear. “This one was … kind of set in stone,” she said. “Sorry.”
Vital facehoofed. “Now why did you have to go and say that?” He groaned, and shook his head. “Okay, fixed point will be taken into consideration, but there’s still a consequence that needs to be enforced. As such, you five will be working in community service to those who faced damages from your antics, and I will be expecting an apology to be sent to every person affected, either written or in person. What form that service may take will be decided between your parents and the individuals affected. And no complaining or whining, kids. Be grateful nopony was actually hurt. Magic can fix a lot of things, but it has its limits just as much as any other art or science.”
“Yes, Vital,” the five said as they deflated, and slumped their heads forward.
“Good. If you five are good, I might even see about persuading Discord to be your parole officer. I hear he’s very good at making things fun.”
Discord chuckled wickedly as he rubbed his hand and paw together. “Oh, Vital, you always say the nicest things.”
Extended Holiday Ch 119: A Nighttime Flight Act 18
“So … you’re telling me your farm’s being overrun with vampire fruit bats,” Grif looked at Applejack incredulously, “and you’re not sure what to do about them?”
“Darned tootin’,” Applejack said. “We’ve had a bumper crop, but the rate those varmints keep suckin’ our trees dry, we’re barely gonna scrape by this year. Twilight tried casting a spell to help, but … you can see how it worked out,” she said as she motioned towards a set of pictures that she’d brought with her for her presentation. The mummified husks of many an apple lay dead on the ground, and some of the trees had begun to wilt.
“Surely, I’m not the only person who’s pointed out there is a solution living on this very property, not too far away from this spot, in fact?”
“What?” Applejack asked as she scratched the side of her head. “Cause, frankly, we’re willing to try just about anything at this point.”
“Well, Applejack,” Grif said as he put a wing on the mare’s back, and turned her around. His eyes were weighed down with heavy bags, and it was clear he was more than a little tired. When they had completed the turn, Grif showed her outside the compound's gate. A few yards away, some of the Thestral houses were already appearing on the horizon. “You see that Thestral with a fruit bat skin scarf, the little foal snacking on a fruit bat wing, the stand selling fruit bat skewers? That give you any ideas?”
Applejack blushed. “I, uh … see your point.”
“Look, AJ. I’m sorry. I have a few things going on right now. And with Hammer Strike gone, any piece of paperwork that usually needs his X, I have to sign instead. I’m sorry if I’m a bit short tempered.”
“So, uh … who’m I supposed to talk to about the issue, then? Is there a main leader? Am I supposed to go to Pensword, or what exactly?”
"Yeah, go look for Pensword,” Grif said as he yawned. “He’ll probably have you set up by dawn tomorrow.”
Applejack sighed. “Guess we can manage one more night, long as we keep up a guard,” Applejack mused. “Thanks, Grif. Any idea where Pensword’d be this time of day?”
“Honestly, Applejack, I’m having to remind myself what your name is constantly,” Grif told her. “That's a little above my current ability.”
“Why don’t you see ‘bout gettin’ some rest, then, Sugarcube. Looks like you could use it.”
“Later, AJ.” Grif yawned as he left the gate, letting the guard escort the stetson-wearing mare the rest of the way.
After a little searching and a handoff to some Thestral guards, Applejack was finally led into Pensword’s office, where he was busy looking over a table laden with figures and icons of ships lying over a map for some kind for reference, and a curious book written in Draconic with a picture of what appeared to be a statue portraying several humans lifting up a flag on top of a peak of some sort. He paused to look up. “Oh, hello, Applejack. How are you doing?”
“To tell you the truth, Pensword, pretty miserable. The farm’s in a bad way. Grif said y’all might be able to help us out.”
Pensword paused mid-move as his hoof rested on the tiny replica of a ship Applejack had never seen before. At least, she assumed it was a ship. The length from bow to stern seemed moreso than the average models they built today, and the breadth was clearly narrower. That, and of course, this one was made entirely of metal. “What do you need help with?”
“We need hunters, Pensword,” Applejack said honestly as she heaved a heavy sigh and shook her head. “We got a plague of fruit bats eatin’ up our farm. The rate they’re goin’, we won’t have much left to harvest.”
A sudden grin sprung up on Pensword’s face. “And you are giving us free rein in your orchard? Because if we have free rein, I am sure we can move them to a place where we can farm them as well. Oh, New Unity will be on the map for Thestrals having their own fruit bat swarm.” His mouth watered at the thought. “I’ll have a team and scouts ready by nightfall. Just … don’t tell Fluttershy about this, okay? She wasn’t happy when some of the younger warriors mentioned they could hunt them to help with the problem.”
“Actually, come to think of it, ain’t it natural for you folk to hunt fruit bats anyways? You’ve been doin’ it for centuries, right?” Applejack mused as she tapped her chin. “Seems kinda fishy for Fluttershy to put up a fuss over something so common. And she has been actin’ sorta strange lately.”
“It’s because she cares about the wellbeing of all animals. It is one of her greatest strengths, though her kindness can also prove to be a weakness, if she isn’t careful.” He nodded as he closed the book. “Don’t worry, Applejack. We’ll get things going. The question is, where in the orchard would we be stationed? Is this widespread over the whole of Sweet Apple Acres, or in a more isolated portion?”
“It’s the east portion mostly,” Applejack said. “They keep nestin’ there, and multiplyin’ like rabbits.”
“Well, it is the fall, so the food is there for them to populate, but the boom should end in a week or so. Then they’ll split into smaller groupings.”
“Pensword, our apple farm is one of the largest in the area. If they spread out, they’ll just make homes in the other portions of the orchard. Please, you’ve gotta do something, or we won’t have hardly any crop left to sell!”
Pensword placed a hoof on Applejack’s shoulder, and smiled reassuringly. Don’t you worry, Applejack. I’ll get to work on a roster, and we’ll be out in the fields tonight to arrange a roundup and hunt.”
Applejack let out a sigh of relief. “Thanks, Pensword. You’re a real lifesaver. How many should we be expectin’? Apples always like to show a touch of good old fashioned country hospitality, if you know what I mean,” she said with a wink.
“Twenty tops. This is going to be a delicate operation, and we need to avoid scaring them off, or they could never be rounded up properly, and it would be a pain for you.” He paused. “Also, you are already serving us a meal, so don’t worry about dinner. it is going to be nice, just go light on the foods, and stick to desserts, okay?”
“Pensword, dessert is exactly what we were planning in the first place,” Applejack said with a relieved smile and another wink. “Thanks. I’ll make sure to let the family know, so we can get everything ready for y’all. Be seeing you around sundown, then?”
Pensword nodded his head, confused by all the winking, but, other than that, he returned to his planning. “See you around sundown.”
Rarity sighed contentedly as she snuggled up to Hammer Strike on the train. It had been a very fulfilling week full of many an amorous activity ranging from romantic dinners to forging lessons to brainstorming new designs and, of course, consummating the union. “That was, by far, one of the most relaxing weeks off I’ve ever had, and that includes the spa,” she added.
“It was perfect,” Hammer Strike agreed with a smile.
“Though I’m still rather surprised you hadn’t gone to check up on the property sooner. Or ... was there another reason why you didn’t want to go back there?”
“To be honest, I had forgotten about it. There was so much going on at the time, it just slipped my mind. Though I am glad Celestia and Luna kept it in mind.”
“You had a lot of memories in that place, didn’t you?”
“Twenty-some years. Yes.”
“It was where you forged Seamripper, too, right?”
“It was actually, yeah,” Hammer Strike nodded as he thought to himself.
She smiled as she nuzzled against his neck. “You know, it still sends tingles down my spine every time I think how you made it just for me as a way to remember. It’s … very endearing.” She blushed heavily, then moved in to give her husband a swift peck on the cheek.
“I never wanted to forget you, so I did everything I could to remember.”
“Dear … if you don’t mind my asking,” Rarity said as she fiddled with her hooves, “what was it that made you like me? I wasn’t exactly anything special, after all, just a fashionista trying to climb the social ladder to fame and fortune.”
“Your personality and drive to make things better,” Hammer Strike responded without a second thought.
Rarity couldn’t help but chuckle. “You know, I always thought it would have to be something more than that to get someone to really want me. I often wonder if that might not have been why I went into fashion in the first place.”
The train hissed as the brakes engaged, and the machine ground into Ponyville station. As the amorous couple looked out the window, a herd of ten Dwarves with a strange device that sparked occasionally looked stoically back. The leader stood firmly with his war hammer, while the dwarf on his right held what appeared to be a rather large scroll of parchment. A series of drills whirred in place as the Dwarves stood by next to it.
“Not even a full minute back, and I have a feeling I’m in a for a load of work,” Hammer Strike commented wryly.
“Isn’t that usually the norm with Equestria?” Rarity shot back with a cheeky smile.
“Well, at least we had our time with no interruptions,” Hammer Strike sighed.
“About time, too,” Rarity noted. “I’m guessing fate decided to be kind as a courtesy.”
“Hail to the Blue Lard!” one of the dwarves called out, and was echoed by his fellows. They stood there, as if they were waiting for permission to approach.
“What’s going on?” Hammer Strike questioned the group as he disembarked, and drew closer.
“We found this device in the tunnels. Claims ta have a message for ya,” one of the Dwarves noted.
“You mean this isn’t one of your contraptions?” Rarity asked, surprised.
“You think we’d make somethin’ like this? It’s sloppy design, substandard metals, probably the reason it broke down before reaching the end in the first place. Why, it’s a miracle it even made it that far.”
“What was the message, or where is it?”
The lead Dwarf moved forward, and handed him a … strangely artistic scroll. The outside paper was covered in gold filigree that met in a lotus pattern. As Hammer Strike unrolled it, the imagery continued on the inside. Images around the text portrayed gems, flowers, and various minor scenes. Each new paragraph had a larger capitalized letter that was part of an artistic portrayal of an event or character. A brief flash came back to Hammer Strike as he gazed on it, recalling a series of desks in rows, and a darkened room with a modified form of a crystal projector. Something about Medieval Times and monasteries. A closer look revealed the majority of the figures in the paragraphs were a variety of dogs. Assuming these images were an indicator of the sender, it was highly likely this had come from the Diamond Dogs, but last he checked, their tribes weren’t nearly so advanced, especially when they dedicated so much of their time to digging for gems, based on what Rarity had told him of the pack she dealt with. Finally, he focused on the letter itself.
To Lord Protector Hammer Strike of Equestria, Liege Lord to Grif Grafson Bladefeather,
First off, we hope this letter finds you well, and in good spirits. We wish to extend our fondest congratulations on your recent nuptials, and beg your forgiveness that we could not arrive to offer due tribute for the occasion. Understandably, we imagine such a thing would have caused no end of trouble.
Please be assured this letter is authentic, and is neither a joke nor a trap on your person. We send this in complete honesty, and with all good will. We wish only to make a formal request.
It has been brought to our attention that the Avatar of Winds, the aforementioned Grif Bladefeather, has sworn himself into your service. And, likewise, we know that you alone may have the power needed to arrange a safe audience with the avatar regarding a matter of mutual benefit. If you are unaware as to the necessity of our requests for such a guarantee of safety, feel free to ask the avatar about our species’ strained relationship. We assure you, unfortunately, that very little of the story is exaggerated.
If you should prove willing to grant us this small boon, simply place a green flag on the tallest tower of Unity a week after receiving this letter. Rest assured, we will know, and we will send a small convoy, which should arrive in early spring. Should you not act, then we will take it as a sign that you have decided not to agree to this parley.
With great hope and gratitude,
~Areon Stonepaw: Representative for the Monastery of Necessary Amendment and the Bristles Scientist Enclave. Thank you.
Hammer Strike hummed for a moment, before rolling the scroll back up. “I’ll have to bring this up with Grif, when we meet for the briefing.”
“Trouble?” Rarity asked.
“Perhaps. We’ll see, after I get Grif’s side of the story.”
A long stream of curses cannonballed through the room in three separate languages as Grif read the letter, and barely suppressed the urge to rip it to shreds.
“You can’t be considering this,” Grif growled. “It’s Diamond Dogs.”
“I haven’t thought on anything yet,” Hammer Strike said. “It involved you, so I showed you.” He hummed to himself in thought. “I don’t even know what in the world could have happened in the past to get this kind of reaction out of you. You haven’t been this worked up since Mountainside Falls.”
Grif banged a fist on the table, and took several deep breaths as the winds danced about his black and green feathers. “It’s not a short story,” he said as he took a seat, and poured himself a drink from a beaker of water one of the staff had been kind enough to leave nearby.
Hammer Strike shrugged. “I’ve got time, if you do.”
Grif narrowed his eyes, and ran a taloned hand down his face, before letting out a heavy sigh. “You're going to want to sit down for this.”
“I’m listening,” Hammer Strike pointed out as he strolled over and grabbed a glass of his own. When he’d finally settled into his chair at the head of the table, Grif began.
“Okay, well, the event itself happened 5300 years ago, but to understand why it’s so infuriating so many millennia later, we have to go way, way back, back to when Faust made Gryphons from the sky and the clouds, and, of course, from the wind itself. However, in our creation, Sleipnir placed a single hair from his mane into the core of the first Gryphons. Being a war god, this made all Gryphons warlike and violent by nature. The first Gryphons fought everything: animals, monsters, other Gryphons. It was said blood stained fields red for eons afterwards. Horrified by what we were, Faust abandoned us to decay and die by the forces of time and neglect, and we, as a race, descended into darkness. We were so short-lived back then that it was said the elders of the race could only boast fifteen or twenty winters. We had no art, no skill, no written language, and our spoken language was only just above grunting.” A hint of a smile pulled at his beak. “And then the Winds found us.”
Grif took a large drink, before continuing. “They saw what Faust had not, a glimmer of potential for redemption and more amongst us. They fostered our race, nursed that potential, and tempered it. They took our four primary traits, and redistributed them between us. They touched us with their power, lengthening our lives, so that we would have more time to learn, develop, and pass on our knowledge to the next generation. They taught us writing; philosophy; astrology; to carve stone, instead of forming nests; to harvest stormstone, and use it to make our machines fly. They gave us so many great things. Thanks to them, we rose to a point where a thousand years was a decent life, and fifteen hundred wasn’t unusual. We made peace with ourselves, and developed our code. We became masters of our lands, and, if legend is to be believed, we even once fought the Alicorns back from our lands to the point they didn’t dare approach our borders again. It was truly a golden age for Gryphons.
A shadow passed over Grif’s face as he prepared for the next leg of his explanation. “Now, returning to about 5300 years ago, give or take a decade, there was a great war with the seven Diamond Dog tribes. They invaded, and we repelled them, and chased them to their dens. We held their necks at the point of a sword, and by decree of our saviors, we pulled it back. We shared knowledge, gave them food, treated them like kin. You could say it got the point where we almost trusted them.” His face hardened into a scowl as the familiar glint of rage burned in the back of his eyes. “They returned our kindness with a knife in the back. Back then, Diamond dogs were more developed, and vastly more intelligent. They had devised their own magic through the use of gemstones. The purer and more perfect the stone, the more powerful the magic they could pull off. One night, they snuck into the lair of the grand nest, the temple of Bahamut himself, the only known Draconic holy place, and they stole five gems, gems of a purity and flawlessness that was unnatural, even by Equestria’s standards, which made sense, since they stole these treasures from a god. How they managed to do it under Bahamut’s very snout, nobody knows, but, somehow, they did. They took these gems, and using dark, twisted rituals, they–.”
Grif let out a snarl and, in a moment of uncontrolled rage, flung his glass at the wall. “They couldn’t kill the Winds. You can’t kill a god, after all. At least not nearly so easily. So, instead, they went with the next best thing. They reduced them, made their power less than a thousandth of its original strength, and then sealed them into the sky, removing their influence, and cutting every Gryphon off from their gods’ guidance. Without their protection, Faust’s curses of neglect and decay began anew. Gryphons quickened. It was slow at first, but still evident. Diseases and plagues became more common, and war....” He shook his head sadly as an oddly quiet sort of hush lulled its way into his voice. “We began again to war for power, for belief, for petty disagreements. Our numbers plummeted, Hammer Strike. Entire cities were either destroyed, or lost forever to time. And so much of our ancient knowledge was gone with them. So much wasted,” he whispered as he looked down to the table. He took a moment to compose himself, before continuing the narrative. “Less than five hundred years after that point, one Diamond Dog rose amongst his kin, and became the alpha of alphas. He took the magic stones, forged a crown out of them, and formed a great army. He attacked our lands, and the crown made for a formidable weapon.
“But the Gryphons weren’t the only ones to suffer for this betrayal. For committing such a heinous act, after all that we had done to foster peace, the Diamond Dogs’ own gods turned their backs on them, casting the same curse as Faust once had upon us. We had decayed, and continued to do so, but the curse the Diamond Dogs’ gods had cast had been filled with a righteous anger, sorrow, and regret, rather than Faust’s horror. This made the curse far more potent, and it showed. As the years passed, both sides decayed, but the Diamond Dogs’ rate was exponentially faster than our own. The fight was long, yes, but not nearly so costly to our side. Seeing the sorrow and the loss in the dogs’ eyes as their children became less and less and their kingdoms collapsed around them brought great satisfaction to our people, but it was not enough. We still had vengeance to reap.
“In the end, four warriors from four separate houses cut the king down, and divided up the gems of his crown. To this day, Gryphons and Diamond Dogs fight, though I suppose it’s more of a slaughter now. But the reason remains the same, and so the act is justified. After all, they betrayed us in a way that we can never forgive.”
A moment of silence passed as Hammer Strike mulled over all that Grif had told him. “Well … that explains that,” he finally said.
“You won’t find a single Gryphon who’d advocate for the Diamond Dogs,” Grif told him flatly.
“I’d expect so,” Hammer agreed. “Well, I leave it up to you, then. I don’t really have anything to input to this,” he said as he gestured to the scroll.
“I’ll have to speak to the clan. This … this is too big for me to say on my own.”
“Best of luck in your future conversations, then. I get the feeling they may not be the most pleasant.”
“Thanks for being discreet, at least. This … is going to take a lot of finesse.”
“At least you have less on your plate now, yeah?”
“I’m training with Zecora at night now,” Grif groaned. “My plate is overflowing.”
“I’d heard you were vanishing in the night,” Hammer Strike mused. “So that explains it.”
“Adding to my arsenal,” Grif said. “You never know what might come up.”
“Correct. So, anything that needs to be brought to my attention?”
“Nothing of major significance comes to mind. I put several minor reports on your desk, but, honestly, nothing you need to stick your nose into, I think.”
“Hopefully so. It’s been years since I’ve had a proper amount of time to relax, and now that it’s over, I’d like to ease into things.”
“Especially now that you're not a bachelor anymore. By the way, is Rarity staying in New Unity, or have you guys worked something else out?”
“She’ll be moving shop to New Unity, once we have the civilian and commercial districts completed. Then she’ll be living here. As for the first part, with the way Equestria works, it’s still something that I have to deal with. I had a long conversation with Rarity about that.”
“Anyway, I’ve got to get a nap in before sundown, and you’ve got a lot of paperwork to catch up on. I’ll see you later,” Grif said as he rose with letter clutched in hand. He hastily pocketed it in his sword belt, being careful to keep any signs of the symbols from the casual viewer, before making his way towards the door.
“See you, Grif. And good luck.”
Vital Spark smiled as he trotted up to a pair of rather sweaty Minotaurs and levitated a tray of freshly baked cookies behind him. “Hey, you two. Thought you could use a pick-me-up after all that practice.”
Big Guns took one sniff, and his mouth watered as his stomach rumbled. “Vital Spark, I could kiss you right now.”
Vital blushed. “Please don’t. It’s hard enough as is adjusting to that with Trixie.”
“With Trixie, eh?” Big Guns teased as he popped a cookie into his mouth.
“Oh, don’t even,” Vital cut him off. “I get enough grief from the others. You start, and I’d be sorely tempted to freeze your sorry butt.”
Big Guns laughed. “You sure you’ve got enough power to do that to all this?” he asked as he motioned to himself.
“That depends,” Vital said as he smiled darkly. “Wanna find out?”
“... You know, I think you spend just a little too much time with Clover for your own good,” Big Guns said somewhat nervously.
“Well, I do need to know how to intimidate, so I guess that’s a good start, wouldn’t you say, Iron Will?” Vital asked as he offered the platter to the other Minotaur.
“Iron Will agrees with that.” Iron Will nodded as he accepted the offering.
“So how’re the classes coming along?” Vital asked as he levitated a cookie into his own mouth.
“Iron Will believes Big Guns will soon be able to control his anger. The rest will take time.”
“As in experience with the weapons and battle, or do you mean something else?”
“... Yes,” Iron Will said with an enthusiastic grin.
“You’ve been waiting to get on that train for a long time, haven’t you, Iron Will?” Vital Spark asked with a deadpan expression.
“Iron Will can neither confirm nor deny that statement.”
Vital Spark chuckled. “Well, I guess I’ll just leave you gentlemen to your fighting, then, unless you’d like to add a magic caster into the mix?”
“Iron Will doesn’t feel that would be appropriate at this time.”
Vital sighed, and shrugged. “Suit yourselves. Mind if I watch, though? I’ve been wondering how Minotaurs fight for a while now. It’s nice to compare fighting styles. You know, just in case. And besides, I brought the perfect snack food,” he added with a playful smile.
“Suit yourself.” Iron Will shrugged as the two sparring partners rose, and prepared to begin again.
“To quote a certain comedian who plays a rusty tow truck part time, ‘Oooh, this is gonna be good!’” Vital said with a country twang as he set back a safe distance, before observing as the two began their training regimen again.
Lighting Dust cleared her throat at the open door to Hammer Strike’s office. “Uh, I’ve got a message for you from Commander Pensword, Sir. In case you arrived while he was away from the city.”
“Come in. Let’s see it.”
“Uh, verbal message, Sir,” Lighting replied as she entered the office properly. “He wanted you to know that he’s leading a hunting party at Sweet Apple Acres, and that he’ll be commandeering some of the wild fruit trees we just discovered to create a habitat for some of the bats that have been ruining the Apples’ harvest. According to the commander, as per tradition of the Thestrals, you’re to be presented with a cooked meal composed of the most choice of the kills they make for your breakfast tomorrow morning.”
“All right, then. Anything else?” Hammer Strike responded as he looked up from his papers.
“Uh, a personal question, if I may?” she asked.
“I’m listening.”
“How ... often does the commander go, well, to his night roots? I mean, I’ve never heard of this kind of event before. And bats? What kind of bats do they hunt? I know they don’t eat normal fruit bats, but I have seen darker, bigger bats being eaten in their camps.”
“Uncertain, to be honest. From what I know, it’s a situational based thing, all depending on what is currently going on.”
“Okay.” She shrugged. “As it stands, it sounds like you’re getting a unique meal tomorrow. Also, … the commander isn’t going to bite my head off, if he learns I asked these questions, is he?”
Hammer Strike shrugged. “I have no idea. And as for the second question, so long as I don’t have to report anything important about this conversation, then I guess it doesn’t matter.”
“Thank you, Sir.” Lightning Dust bowed her head. “One last personal question. Did you enjoy your honeymoon? And ... did anyone try to kill you?”
“Yes, I did. And no, nobody tried.”
“Ah….” was all she said. “Just to let you know, about three fourths of the camp had a bet that you would have been attacked at least once on your honeymoon.”
“They burned most of their assassins during the preparations and the wedding itself.”
“I guess a few Gryphons and slayers will be that much richer, then.” She grinned as she made her way towards the door. “Have a good rest of the evening. I’m looking forward to your next forging experiment.” With that, she was gone, leaving Hammer Strike to his thoughts yet again.
The moon had risen high over Sweet Apple Acres, draining the trees of color as a group of twenty Thestrals, well, twenty one, if you counted Night Terror Blueblood, gathered in a clearing to prepare for the hunt. True to his roots as a well-trained commander, Pensword wasn’t going to let the young filly out of his sights. While her story of abuse and fear had been convincing enough, he wasn’t about to swallow it hook, line, and sinker. Besides, somepony had to teach her how to hunt properly. Why not kill two birds with one stone? Or two vampire fruit bats, in this case.
Unfortunately, that was proving a herculean effort in and of itself.
“No,” Pensword hissed as he pulled Night Terror back from the bush, where she’d trained an arrow on one of the nests. “You do not go–. Here. You stay here, and I’ll show you how to get the best ones.” He motioned to one of the nests with a wing. “See the little bats there? They are children. The bigger ones around them are the parents. These family units are off limits, understood? The loners and the bigger ones are fair game for tonight's hunt, but you need to make sure there are enough of the bigger ones left to help repopulate. Otherwise, we’ll just end up shrinking the population as well as the overall size of the prey.” He sighed, wondering if he was as clueless on his first hunt. He doubted it, but he knew it was best to just step forward. The girl didn’t have the benefit of being raised with a loving Thestral tribe backing her up. That was bound to have an impact on her overall performance. He snuck slowly towards the tree, being careful not to disturb the grounds or the bats as they swivelled their ears. All around he could hear the coded sounds of success from the other teams, along with the flapping of wings from annoyed bats who had already been caged, ready for transport to a special set of orchards specifically grown to house the creatures.
He was about to sweep in when a shadow suddenly passed over the moon, and dove straight for him. He spun, and kicked, but this creature had surprisingly fast reflexes. It managed an aerial spin to circle around his hind hooves, then kicked him with its own dark yellow hooves, before landing in the tree and hissing at them. It snatched an apple savagely with a single bite, and began to suck the juices dry.
For the first time in a very long time, Pensword was horrified, winded, and confused all at once. He nursed the spot gingerly. That had been quite a blow, but it would only bruise at most. He could walk it off. What he had just found was far more important. He reached into his belt, and pulled out a curiously carved wooden whistle. The images for talons and feathers had been carefully carved before the staining, followed by metalworking to add the final touches of moon and stars. He raised the whistle to his lips, then blew. The symbols glowed, and the call of a great horned owl flew into the night. He sounded it three more times, then returned the item to his belt. The signal had been sent. Now it was just a matter of waiting for the others.
A rustling in the bushes heralded the first arrival. He turned to address the expected Thestral, only to come muzzle to muzzle with Rainbow Dash. Applejack stood a short ways behind her, with….
“Applejack, the Thestral you have hogtied is with me,” Pensword groaned as he put a hoof to the bridge of his nose, and shook his head. “She isn’t going to eat your–.” He paused as he noticed something red and shiny next to the filly in question, then groaned anew. “You took an apple from a tree. Why would you take an apple from the harvest, when these bats have the Apples pressed enough as it is just to earn their living for the winter? That’s not just selfish, it’s dishonorable. Not to mention it’ll spoil your appetite for the feast.”
Surprisingly, Night Terror actually managed to look hurt at that statement. Whether it was the implication of dishonor or something else had yet to be ascertained.
Pensword sighed. “Applejack, I’ll give you three bits for that one apple. Just unrope my charge.”
“I thought y’all came here to deal with bats, not get apples,” the orange Pony said as she unroped the filly.
“Well, she is one of the staff from a noble house, who had to flee for her life, which means I get to teach her how to act more Thestral than noble.”
Applejack snorted a laugh. “Good luck with that one,” she snarked as the other girls wandered in.
Pensword took the jeering with a grain of salt. “Well at least she didn’t complain about having to eat a plain apple, so progress is progress, I guess,” he said with a strained smile. “However, we have a bit of a complication, which I believe Rainbow Dash has just discovered.” He pointed to the tree, where Rainbow Dash had flopped down on her rump, her eyes wide as she looked up into the crown, where the yellow figure had settled into a nest with the other fruit bats. “This entity attacked me, just as I was about to show young Night Terror how to make an effective strike on prey. It appeared to be very territorial about the nest’s occupants, and it clearly has just as voracious an appetite as its charges.”
“Um, guys,” Rainbow Dash gulped. “It’s not an it. … It’s a she,” she said in a strained voice. “And not just any she, either. I … I don’t know how it happened, but I think … I think that’s Fluttershy.”
Pensword rounded suddenly as he trained his eyes on the shadows of the tree. He saw her disheveled pink mane, her yellow fur, the ragged tufts on her ears, the flash of her fangs as she eviscerated another apple of its juice. And then his eyes fell on her cutie mark in all its moonlit glory. “Ho-ly! Three bats?”
“You’ve gotta be kidding me, Rainbow. You really expect me to believe the monster attacking my apples is Fluttershy?” Applejack asked incredulously.
“Hey, Twilight used her to help pacify the bats. And look at the ground around her! Those are apple husks.” Rainbow turned to Twilight, who had made it onto the scene shortly after the other two had arrived. “How can we change her back?”
Pinkie Pie hopped closer. “Hi, Fluttershy! Or should I call you Flutterbat?” she asked cheerfully.
Fluttershy hissed angrily at Pinkie, who just laughed in response.
“I know it’s not your name, but you’ve got to admit, you aren’t acting too shy at the moment. More like an angry ‘I’m gonna suck all the apples dry to feed some unquenchable thirst I have for apple juice,’ but….” She trailed that last word out as Twilight suddenly yanked the party pony away via telekinesis.
“So, um,” Applejack hemmed and hawed as she eyed the newly dubbed Flutterbat nervously. “How do we turn her back to normal? I mean, she’s still our friend and all, but my family and I can’t afford to lose any more apples.”
Pensword relaxed as he looked up into the night sky, and noticed the spiraling shadows of his fellow Thestrals. Others ghosted into the area in the manner of stealth that had made them famous during the war. “To be frank with you, Applejack, there probably won’t be a need to make her ‘normal,’ as you put it. It’s a bit unusual, I’ll grant you. We’ve never had Thestrals with a vampire fruit bat’s traits before, but we should be able to find a solution quickly enough. We’ll likely have to start by curing her of her thirst for apple juice. Her body won’t survive on a juice only diet for very long.”
One of the other Thestrals grinned. “I wonder if she’d like meat. It may be a way we can coax her down from the tree.”
Day Moon and his siblings had been foolish enough to land in the same tree as Flutterbat, only for an angry hiss and a lashing hoof to cause the trio to take off and land on a tree nearby, leaving only three dust copies of themselves in the branches they’d left behind.
“What have we here?” an older Thestral mare asked as she ambled into the gathering. Her eyes widened as they fell on Flutterbat. “A pureblood? Here?” she gasped. “But where are her parents? Surely a mare at this age should have better control of her instincts.”
Another elder replied with a grin. “It is by the blood of other ponies that we tame the more feral instincts, which is why we have never looked down upon the mixing of our bloods. What you are seeing now is something you might notice in the very young in the caves. And yet, she is clearly of age.” She looked around to the rest of the gathering. “How did this happen? How did this gift of nature occur?”
“Gift of nature?” Applejack replied looking a little angry. “She’s eatin’ our apples. And she isn’t a Thestral, she’s a Pegasus. I know there's a difference. For one thing, she should have feathers.”
Pensword paused and raised his wings, as did one other Thestral. “We have feathers, but we are Thestrals.” Pensword’s voice was gentle, but the mare recognized the silent reproach.
“Sorry,” Applejack replied as her ears drooped in shame, “but I think you know what I meant. She wasn’t–. She….”
Rainbow Dash looked thoughtfully at the other Thestrals, then at Fluttershy. “Hey, Twi? Could you–?”
“No, Rainbow Dash,” Twilight said firmly. I’m not about to repeat the spell and risk you losing your mind!” she began, only to stop as one of the middle aged mares from the hunting party landed, and retorted Fluttershy’s protective hiss with one of her own. Fluttershy drew her head back in surprise for a moment, blinked, then narrowed her eyes suspiciously as the two began a conversation of chitters and hisses interspersed with the occasional squeak or shriek known to all bats. Occasionally the one or other would rail, flapping their wings, baring their teeth in a show of dominance. Eventually, it appeared the two came to a sort of understanding, and the discussion became more calm as Fluttershy folded her wings to stare curiously at the mare below, while the mare returned the gaze from the ground.
“Wait, Fluttershy can squeak?” Pinkie Pie gasped. “That is socool, does it work like Winona’s squeaky toy? Will she do it every time I hug her? Will she–?”
“Pinkie Pie, focus!” Twilight yelled. “Just ... just stand back. I’ll undo the spell, and we can all go home to let the Thestrals finish clearing out the bats. Okay? Okay.”
Night Terror stood off to the side, nibbling on the apple Pensword had bought for her, along with her freedom from what had to have been one of the most embarrassing positions she had ever been forced to endure. She didn’t know what she hated more, the fact Applejack had bested her or the fact Pensword was actually right in his chastisement. On the plus side, this Flutterbat as some had come to call her, had proved a most opportune distraction. Now she would be able to see more of these Thestrals and their communication methods. Thanks to Pensword, she’d already learned how they utilized enchanted animal calls to send signals to one another. And it appeared they had a basic language that focused entirely on sonic communication. That would prove most useful when seeking to crack any messages they might seek to share among themselves in private. Still, the very idea that a spell existed to alter a Pony’s physiology so completely as to become like a Thestral…. She shuddered at the implications.
No words were exchanged as five more Thestrals joined the mare at the base of the tree. Fluttershy hissed territorially as she laid her wings around the bats. That was when the elder approached. Her eyes had narrowed to predatory slits as she stood her ground at the base of the tree with a curt shirek and a stamp of her hoof. She bore both her upper and lower fangs as she flared her wings and crouched low, looking expectantly into the tree.
Much to the other Ponies’ surprise, Fluttershy stopped. She retracted her wings, cocked her head a moment, stared with a furrowed brow, then leapt nimbly down from the tree to look curiously at the mare. She stepped forward, hesitantly, at first, then with more confidence, until she brushed up against the mare’s neck, like a foal seeking warmth.
“There now. There there,” the mare said as she stroked Fluttershy’s mane, then chittered gently into her ears. The other Thestral hunters turned to face the rest of the party, and more specifically the remaining members of the Mane Six, before lining up to form a living wall between them and Fluttershy.
“Is … is she going to be all right?” Twilight asked worriedly, even as more Thestrals approached Fluttershy to introduce themselves, and to embrace her. It took some adjustment, but Fluttershy eventually warmed to their touch with some gentle reassurances from the elder mare. “I mean, I can change her back, right? This was all my fault in the first place. I couldn’t bear if we … if we….”
Pensword waited for her to trail off, then smiled gently at her. “Yes, Twilight. She’s going to be all right, but it is not your choice to make whether she returns to her old self. Let those in the tribe first see if Fluttershy remembers anything. Once she has those instincts under control, it would very well be that she prefers this form to her Pegasus body. If you really care about her as a friend, you will leave the decision in her hooves.”
“But–.”
“Tell me, Twilight, do you know where and when the first transformation spells were used, what their original purpose may have been? Naturally, they are excellent for spies. We have seen that with Changelings. It is also an excellent way for families to escape scrutiny, or for certain individuals to learn about another species and culture. As one inventor put it, ‘I always wondered what being a breezie was like.’ But before all those applications were made, do you know the first intent of those spells?”
Twilight slowly shook her head. “I only know the spell to become a Breezie, because it was a challenge, and I was curious. I never really got to study much into the origins of that branch of magic. Most of the records were lost.”
“Lost, were they?” Pensword let out a hoarse laugh. “Lost. I wonder in what manner those records were ‘lost.’” He chuckled, again, then shook his head sadly. “Let me tell you about the first applications of that branch in magic, Twilight, and the motivations that fueled its research.” He sighed as he took a seat next to the princess. “As I’m sure you’re aware, long ago, my people were often persecuted, deemed lesser beings, uncivilized, uncultured, without any form of thought deemed worthy of the many Unicorn nobles’ time. Unfortunately, many such nobles desired that we be eradicated. However, since an edict had been sent forth from the crown, it was not possible to kill my people and thus steal their lands. As such, these … misguided nobles and other Unicorns like them had to find another way to achieve their ends.”
Twilight gasped. “You don’t mean–.”
“I am afraid that is exactly what I mean, Twilight Sparkle. Until Clover and another lost to time found out about what they were doing, and put a stop to it, mages across the kingdom were using those spells to forcefully ‘civilize’ my people. Those who could fled into hiding, escaped into forests or mountains in the wilderness, but there were always some who couldn’t escape. If a hunter is diligent enough, no matter how inept they may be, they will eventually get their mark.” He turned to look wistfully back at the hunting party and the pacified Fluttershy, who was feasting on some apples the Thestrals had brought with them as bait.
“They were taken, and forcibly changed into Earth Ponies, Pegasi, and for those who proved loyal servants after their change, or worse yet as traitors to their own kind, rarely Unicorns. Can you imagine, Twilight, what that must have been like? You remember, don’t you, how Discord took your horn away in the maze? You must have felt so vulnerable, so lost without that piece of yourself. Were it not for your determination to help Equestria and the support of your friends, what might have happened?”
“I … I suppose I would have had a breakdown.” Twilight looked down to the ground. “Without them, Discord could’ve torn me apart. He probably would have, too.” Her voice had grown surprisingly quiet as she pondered those words. The remainder of the Mane Six looked on, spellbound at the tale Pensword had woven.
“And Rainbow Dash, how did it feel to know that you had lost your wings, your pride, the very thing that was the heart of your special talent and the magic contained therein, before Discord explained his rules?” Pensword continued.
Rainbow Dash held her wings close to her body, and shuddered. “I don’t wanna talk about it.”
“I believe you see my point. They took their homes, girls, their heritage, their very being, and stripped them bare. Their talents, their strengths, in flight, in hunting, in everything were warped, perverted, limited, repressed, if not outright snuffed. Many couldn’t cope. Many … many….” He swallowed heavily to try to displace the lump in his throat. “Many took their own lives,” he finally managed. “And many more faced a fate worse than death as the madness took them. The rest adapted, because they had no choice, but the scars from the nobles’ crimes ran deep. They were never the Ponies they once were.”
“But … couldn’t the spell be undone? Rarity posed. “I mean, surely there must have been a simple means of reversing the effects.”
Pensword shook his head sadly. “The spell formula they utilized incorporated a powerful finishing spell, one designed to lock the Pony in that state for the rest of his or her days. Few, if any of the casters were capable of releasing it.”
“And ... those who couldn’t?” Twilight asked.
Pensword stared at her with the empty, emotionless gaze of a trained soldier. “They died in the attempt. That was the justice they faced, if they were unable to amend their crimes.” He looked to Fluttershy, and a single moon-touched tear streaked down his muzzle to burst on the ground below. “For all we know, Fluttershy could have been of Thestral descent this whole time, and your spell just reverted the whole spell matrix. It is feasible, given the initial lock was only applied to the first generation, and it has been many centuries since.”
Twilight looked as though she were about to speak, so Pensword cut her off with a raised wing.
“I don’t blame you, Twilight,” he said tiredly. “You are young. You did something that you thought may have been wrong to a dear friend, and desired to put it to rights. There was no way for you to have known what really happened. I should think it was a piece of history many a noble would want to forget, and would want their subjects to forget, after the thrashing their ancestors received. Don’t hold this against yourself. All you have ever wanted was to be friends with the entire world.” He smiled wryly. “Well, at least what you’ve wanted since you came to Ponyville. It is a difficult dream to achieve, but you are a mighty princess, and a powerful Alicorn. You have done amazing things, and will yet do many more, I should think. If Fluttershy is indeed the descendant of one of these Thestrals, it is quite possible that you uncovered the means for many to rediscover their heritage, a way to right one of the greatest wrongs my people have ever known. It is not something to be ashamed of, but to be commended.” He laid a hoof on her shoulder. “Well done, Princess Twilight Sparkle, and thank you. You did amazingly.”
Twilight still looked confused. “But the spell shouldn’t have done all that. It was just meant to impact desire, not change her.” She looked back to the Thestrals. “Do … do you think they’ll let me study the effects later, if … if she doesn’t want to turn back, I mean?”
“Maybe Later,” Pensword conceded. “It is likely the tribal council will wish to examine her, along with High Chieftess Luna herself. It well may be that you are right, and she is overwhelmed by instincts to the point where she will need to be changed back. Only time will tell. I believe I remember hearing stories about Iron Will and a certain event involving her becoming overly aggressive, not to mention taking on a fully grown dragon all by herself. She may have been tapping into the true nature of her bloodline without realizing it. Either way, we have to be sure, for her sake as well as our own.” He could see the worry in the mares’ eyes, and his face softened into a gentle smile. “She’ll be in good hooves, girls. Two nights with us, and no more. We’ll let you know as soon as we determine what needs to be done, and then you’ll be able to visit with her all you like, without the wall of guards.”
Twilight nodded her head. “Okay. Make it three nights, and we’ll have a deal.” She extended a hoof, and Pensword’s smile broadened into a grin.
“I see you’ve been studying. If you respect a Thestral and the deadline they set, you offer an extension, however long or short as may be appropriate,” he praised as he took the hoof, and shook.
“A girl has to study up, if she wants to be a proper leader for her subjects, right?”
Pensword nodded approvingly. “Right, indeed. Very well, then. Three nights it will be. That should give us time if anything … comes up.” He looked around the gathering, and immediately took command, standing up to address the Thestrals. “Okay. The older mares, you leave your live bats and take your prey with you. Escort our kin of the night to the elders to see just what we have here. The rest of you will finish the roundup and assist in the transfer of the bats to their new home.” He turned to Night Terror. “You, young lady, shall be accompanying the Element Holders back to Twilight's Library, where you shall use Spike’s dragon fire to mail a copy of Twilight’s report to High Chieftess Luna.” He smiled at her look of shock. “When you are done, it should be morning, so you will sleep at the Library till nightfall and come back tomorrow night with any replies the High Chieftess has sent. They are to remain unopened unless she leaves a note instructing you to read them. Am I understood?”
Night Terror nodded numbly as she slowly began to walk with the others. Rainbow Dash hung back for a time, until the girls had gained sufficient distance, before turning back to approach Pensword.
“Uh, Commander,” Rainbow Dash began, “How can, uh … that is, how do you know when … well, you know.”
Pensword gave a coy smile. “Oh don’t you worry, while I can see the desire you have to live in our culture for a time, it is well known that you have no such blood within you. You come from the blood of one whom we call Thestral by action. Rest assured, Rainbow Dash, you are a pure Pegasus, who comes from the blood of the great Commander Hurricane himself. Unfortunately, you are a descendant from the last foals in each succession of the line. As such, you had no lands to speak of to lay claim to. Of course, now that you have a title, that’s quite different, but I thought you ought to know.” He smiled widely. “I look forward to your entry into the Wonderbolts even more so than I did before now.”
Rainbow Dash looked at Pensword with confusion. “Are … you’re joking, right? Me? And my family? Hurricanes?”
Pensword looked at Rainbow Dash with a very serious expression. “I talk to the commander almost on a weekly basis. He enjoys telling me ideas about how to revitalize the military. You really think in all that time that he wouldn’t talk about those that came from his sires?”
A few hours later, Penword was flying back to New Unity. The moon hung low in the sky, waiting to be put to bed as it welcomed the passing of the torch to the sun. Celestia would doubtless be waking soon. He paused as he saw a shadow passing at a lower altitude on his left. With a tip of his body and an adjustment of his wings, he dove sideways, like the old WWII Mustangs from Earth. He smiled, despite himself. Matthew still loved the old historical pieces, and Pensword could hardly blame that part of his psyche. In a matter of moments, he’d flown down silently to the Gryphon’s Side. “Kahn, I was hoping we could talk soon. Where have you been? You’re not night born, so why the late night trips?” Pensword asked jovially. He had hoped to catch the Gryphon off guard, but it appeared Kahn either had superior senses or simply didn’t scare easily.
“Oh, Commander. I just figured it was such a beautiful night, perfect for stargazing. And with me off roster tomorrow, I thought, why not?” Kahn said.
“Okay, what about last Sunday night? And the nights where you had late shifts the following day? You have taken no less than six unaccounted night trips since you and your comrades were fully integrated, meaning you have six times where, if something happened, we would have had absolutely no clue where you were. We would have wasted precious resources searching for you that could be used for attacking the problem.”
“You have been spying on me, Commander?” Khan said with a dramatic gasp.
“Not spying, monitoring. After all, we have logs of who enters and leaves New Unity, the times they clock out, and the times they clock in. Even if you don’t use the main methods, a record is still created by the guards. I create your duty rosters each week, and it appears that your night excursions have changed with your schedule, so it is not a day specific event. It also is after sunset. Until now, there has been no act involving spying. Spying would be if I were to do something like place a pair of tails on you or create an excuse to leave the base, so I could follow you myself,” he said with a mischievous grin. “However, it is hard to keep a rather prismatic mane hair from showing on your fur coat, it would seem.”
Kahn stiffened up for a moment, before looking hastily through his fur. He found no signs of the hairs in question, and looked up at Pensword just as the sun rose, then blushed as he realized he’d been had.
“So, you and the Element of Loyalty,” Pensword began. “Any other Gryphon, and I would be reading the riot act, among other things. In your case, however, … you are going to get it worse.” He puffed himself up and took a higher position in the air. “Son, I want to see you in my personal quarters in one half hour. Because you, Sir, are courting danger.”
“If it is danger, then she has the most beautiful personality I have ever seen in a female,” Kahn almost purred. “She is so spirited, so ... alive. I feel like she will burn me, if I get too close, yet she entices me to come forward.”
Pensword looked to Khan. “And does she do this on purpose, or is she doing this unknowingly? Also, you just described tales of warning from Earth maritime mythology on top of that.” Pensword sighed, unsure of what more to say, really.
“Commander, do you honestly think me so crass as to court a woman who has no interest in me? I am not sure what kind of Gryphon you take me for, but I would never disrespect a lady’s wishes in such a way.” Kahn's face became hard, almost edging on a snarl.
Pensword took a long, hard look at Kahn. His expression was masked by the shadows generated by the rising sun. “Kahn, I do not know what to think. Love makes you do dumb things, crazy things, which is why … I would like to address you as your father. You took that oath, and right now, I am filling that role. This discussion will not come from me as your commander.” He took a deep breath, and sighed. “Rainbow’s parents, when you meet them … well, I doubt they would give you the ‘traditional’ grilling a father should give the boyfriend. As such, I feel I have to not only fill both roles, but also watch out for any security problems that might arise as a result of this relationship, should it develop as such.” His wings sagged slightly. “Heavy lies the helmet of leadership and command upon the heads of those who bear it,” he said softly as he paraphrased a line Celestia had used earlier on in her rule, just a couple of centuries after Luna’s banishment.
“Commander, I realize that I can be … impetuous with women, but there is a difference between playful flirting and love,” Kahn pressed. “This, this, I feel in my heart that I would do anything for Rainbow. I will court her while she allows it. And if she sends me away, I am convinced that it will hurt. It would hurt from the deepest regions of my heart, but I would go, if it makes her happy. I would sooner cut off my own wings right here than do anything to cause her pain. I would swear a blood oath to you right here, if necessary. I will not hurt her, because to do so would be the same as killing me.”
“Khan … I have had my fill of Gryphon blood oaths for the year.” Pensword shook his head as they continued to glide over the clouds, and watched the colors of the sky shift in the dawn’s early light. “And I told you already that I am speaking to you as a father, not as your commander. That being said, your words do help to ease some of my worries. Still, is it not a tradition for the tom to bring the female he is courting back to meet with the family?” He watched as Kahn stalled in midair for a moment, then smacked into some cloud, dispersing it, before he was able to right himself again. “Grif has taught me a little about Gryphon family cultures,” Pensword said by way of explanation. “So when do I get to meet this queen of yours?”
“I was hoping to ask her tonight. Unfortunately, she had a personal emergency, and we had precious little time together. I do hope to ask her when next we meet, however,” Kahn reported. Pensword could almost swear he saw stars in the Gryphon’s eyes as he spoke.
“Well then, you have the weekend off,” Pensword finally said. “Moon and stars know this is going to be crazy. However, that means that you will be spending it as Lunar Fang’s and my son. Not a leader in my Slayers, but a member of the family.”
In a flourish of feathers, Pensword found himself in a tight embrace. “Merci, Pappa, Merci!”
While Pensword returned the hug as they hit a cloud. Mentally he was wondering, 'What did I just do?' Was this the right thing? Only time would tell.”
“So, Rarity,” Grif asked as he performed a few of his normal pre-lesson exercises, “how was the honeymoon?”
“Oh, it was positively divine.” Rarity sighed as she allowed herself to sink towards the earth to augment the dramatic effect. “The work sessions, the brainstorming, the–” she cleared her throat “–extracurricular activities. It was truly a celestial experience, darling.”
“Well I hope you're ready, because we’re finally taking the kiddie gloves off.” Grif smiled in anticipation.
“Is that so?” Rarity asked with a smirk of her own. “I’m looking forward to it.”
“Tell me, Rarity,” Grif said as he gestured to a wooden post ten feet away, “do you think I could damage that without moving or using any magic?”
“Knowing you, Grif, probably,” Rarity said. “You don’t usually say those kinds of things, unless you can, because you know someone will inevitably contradict you, and then you prove them wrong.”
“Maybe,” Grun chuckled, “but if someone else had asked the question randomly?”
“I’d probably have a hard time believing them, unless it was Hammer Strike, of course.”
“I’m sure spending as much time with Twilight as you have, you understand about air pressure and the atmosphere and all that stuff?”
“Well, naturally. One has to understand the natural workings of weather, if one wishes to maintain the perfect coiffure, darling,” she said as she flicked her mane, and it sparkled in the sunlight. For some reason, Grif’s eyesight was momentarily clouded, making everything surrounding the mare appear misty. That is, until he blinked. Then the moment was past, and everything was normal again.
“Well, if you’re precise, and fast enough, you can create just the right offset of pressurised air, and–.” Grif got into stance, and eyed his target. He made three flashing slashes into the air. Three crescent-shaped aerial disturbances launched outwards, hitting the post in succession. The first two slashes left deep gouges at the sides, and the third proceeded to cut off the top six inches of the post entirely.
“I thought you said without moving,” Rarity pointed out with a smirk. “Do slashes not count?”
Grif rolled his eyes. “Not moving from the spot. Better?”
“Much, darling. It certainly was impressive. I assume this is something anypony can develop, not just the Avatar of Winds?” she asked as she polished Seamripper’s hilt.
“With time and practice, yes.” Grif nodded. “You won’t be doing it today.”
“So what’s on the agenda, then?”
“For now, I want you to work on the delayed cut.” Grif moved to a new wooden pole. “It needs to be one smooth movement. The cut should be so perfect that the wood doesn’t realize it’s been severed for a palpable amount of time.”
“And by palpable, do you mean a few seconds or a few minutes?”
“You’ll start with seconds, then stretch it from there.”
“Excellent.” Rarity smiled as she took Seamripper into her hooves. “Then let the challenge begin.”
Grif smiled as he moved back. “Go ahead. Let’s see if you can figure it out on your own first.”
“As long as you’re willing to be patient, I think I can live with that,” Rarity said with a smile as she braced herself, and took her rapier in both hooves. “Just to clarify, darling, this is one where I can actually move, right?”
Grif chuckled. “Yes, Rarity, it is.”
“Excellent.” She smiled as she walked up to the pole in question, and struck. Unfortunately, rather than the satisfying sensation of passing through effortlessly, she felt the jarring sensation of unyielding wood against Seamripper’s pitiful bite. On the plus side, at least it didn’t break. On the down side, she would likely feel the effects of that jarring in the next day or two.
“Come on, Rarity. The enemy’s armor isn’t going to be made of wood,” Grif prodded. There were a few reasons he’d chosen this exercise, of course, but he wasn’t about to tell Rarity. He hoped the main lesson she’d take would be not to judge a battlefield, until you're on it. Her attitude at the wedding had been more than a little worrying, and Grif intended to work it out of her.
A good hour later, Rarity was still trying to succeed, and finally collapsed onto her fainting couch in exhaustion as she activated the cooling aspects that had been installed. The pole had been covered in nicks and notches, but not a single cut had made it through in the assault.
“What's wrong, Rarity?” Grif asked her.
“Nothing. Just … just taking a little rest. A minute or two, and I’ll be right back at it,” she promised as she smiled somewhat weakly back at him.
“Rarity, tell me. Do you honestly think you’ll be able to cut through that in a single swipe by the end of this session?” Grif asked her in a mild tone.
“No,” Rarity said honestly. “But it doesn’t mean I’m not going to give it my all.”
“And tell me. Had this post been an assailant, do you honestly believe you’d still be alive?”
“Well, considering I would have used a different set of techniques, it’s entirely possible. However, I assume you’re referring to this particular encounter with the failed attempts, in which case, the answer is,” she winced slightly, “regrettably, no.”
“Now how many assailants do you think would use a weak material like wood for armor?”
“I’m fairly certain we both know the answer to that one, Grif,” Rarity said primly.
“Then understand this as a friend,” Grif told her as he walked forward, drawing a seemingly ordinary rapier. It didn’t even appear to be one of Hammer Strike’s. “I can teach you many things. I can teach you to overcome things like resistance or the strength of your weapon’s material.” He made a single sweep, cutting the top of the pole. “I can teach you to delay a cut.” He swiped again, and turned to look at her as the top ever so slowly began to slide away, revealing the diagonal cut. “I can even teach you to make a cut so fine, you can put the two halves back together.” He grabbed the falling piece with a wing, and lifted it back in place. The cut seemed to have vanished entirely, when the two pieces matched up. He gave it a few smacks with his tail to show the renewed solidity. “But all of this takes time, Rarity, and your life is important to a great many people. So if we’re facing down enemies, and I tell you to only fight if you must, why would I say that?” he asked her.
Rarity sighed. “I assume because you don’t think I’m ready to handle it yet.”
“Good. I’m glad we understand each other, because who knows how the next time I have to protect you might go? If I have to tell Sweetie Belle you got yourself killed, I swear I will hunt you down in the next life, and lecture you until the end of days, and I’ll make you wear burgundy while I’m doing it. You understand?”
“You wouldn’t!” Rarity gasped. “It’s such a terrible color! It clashes with nearly everything I have to wear.” Then she noticed Grif’s glare, and sighed. “I understand, Grif. I wouldn’t want to hurt Sweetie Belle. I suppose I was just being a little … overzealous for the wedding.”
“Good,” Grif said curtly. “Now to the final thing before we finish for today.” Grif produced a pair of what seemed to be clear crystalline bracelets. “You have the speed down. Now it’s time to work on power. You’re going to start wearing these leg weights everywhere you go.” He held up a talon, when she moved to speak. “You’ll be able to alter their color with magic, so you can make them blend in with whatever you're wearing. These should be a fine start, but when they stop being heavy, you have to come to me to increase the density.”
“It’s a deal,” Rarity agreed.
Grif chuckled as he helped her slip them on. “We’ll make a warrior out of you yet, Rarity.”
“Greetings, everypony, and welcome to the second Ponyville Snow Fort Face Off!” Vital Spark’s voice boomed over the snow covered plains just outside Ponyville. The crowd from town had been much larger this year, so the venue had to be moved to make up for the increased volume of spectators. Fortunately, the Pegasi had been very accommodating, making sure to leave enough room for the spectators to gather and build stands, etc. for proper viewing, while still leaving plenty of fresh snow for the competitors to use in their battle. “In this corner, bolstered by the legendary and daring CMC of Ponyville Elementary, we have Team Victory!”
The crowds cheered, whistled, and stomped their hooves in support as the various fillies and colts waved back at their assorted family friends and relatives. “And leading them in their great rebellion, one of the most famous Pegasi to live, the head of Equestria’s forces, and one of the highest ranking nobles of the Lunar Court, a true war hero through and through, Commander Pensword!”
Pensword alighted gently on the ground with a grim expression. His bulky white body armor shone dully in the early morning’s light. A large green emblem had been sewn on his breast over the left side, and a pair of snow goggles shaped like massive ovular eyeballs clung to his forehead. The symbol of a chopped Fleur de lis nestled within the curves of a crescent moon had been painted in black on his shoulder to stand out against the snow.
“And in this corner, we have the famous, the battle-hardened, the incredibly innovative Team Unity!” Vital motioned to the side, where Black Rook, Lightning Dust, and the Shield brothers stood shoulder to shoulder. “And, of course, what’s an army without a proper head of command? After hearing of the great fun that had been held last year, and the magnificent show of leadership and sheer innovation Taze had shown in the face of utter defeat, Grif Grafson has agreed to honor the monster hunter’s name by standing in as Team Unity’s commander for this year’s competition. Let’s give him a warm round of applause, everypony!
Grif swooped into view, and landed in front of the rest of Team Unity wearing a large black cloak with a hood that covered his entire upper face, leaving only his beak to hang out mysteriously. Six Gryphons dressed in white plastic armor swooped in, and landed in front of him in aisle formation. They all bore a gear-like design on their left pauldrons. Next, Thalia landed beside Grif, dressed in similar armor in black, rather than white, with a full helmet that, for some reason, had been enchanted to echo her breathing.
“You will witness the true power of the dark side,” Grif called out in a gnarled and creaky voice.
Vital smiled widely as he let the cheers wash over the clearing for a time. “And that’s not all, folks. After several months in intensive care and physical therapy, it is my pleasure to announce the return of the hero of New Unity, the leader of New Unity’s original Fox Brigade, the stallion who kept New Unity organized and fighting in a time when no superior officers were available to direct, and who nobly sacrificed himself to make an opening for reinforcements in a time of dire need. Even in the last stages of recovery, he couldn’t bear to miss the event. Ladies and gentlecolts, I present to you, Silver Spear!”
The four Ponies and Grif’s entourage parted to reveal the soldier in question. His copper coat was riddled with scars, and his body still looked somewhat gaunt in his old uniform, but he smiled all the same, and his silver mane shone all the brighter as the crowds cheered. The two Shields stood by his side as they escorted him to a wheelchair, guarded by Grif’s imperial troopers, where a Pegasus nurse stood waiting. Silver Spear nodded gratefully to his two friends, who offered a firm salute. He returned the gesture, and smiled tiredly as his horn shot a few stray sparks. The nurse was quick to offer a cold compress and a potion, which he gladly sipped. Naturally, Pensword, Grif, and the higher ranking Ponies knew exactly who that nurse really was, and what contents the potion contained. The nurse offered a subtle nod and a wink towards the two leaders to signal all was well, before taking her place beside the chair to watch the events that would unfold.
“Now then, the rules are simple. Both sides will have a period of two hours in which to build their forts and make preparations for battle. This includes any plans for secret weapons. Improvisation is allowed, and innovation is encouraged; however, your preparations will be limited specifically to your forts, ammunition, and planning during this period. Ammunition will remain strictly snow-related, and must come in the form of compact spherical shapes during this period. After the battle is well and truly begun, these weapon limits will be lifted, and it will be up to each team to utilize their resources as they see fit. There will be no ice balls allowed. However, you are allowed to make use of ice as a reinforcing agent, provided it is kept to a relatively thin layer. Medics will be on standby, in case anyone gets hurt. And as for resurrections, this year is dedicated to a more scientific theme. As such, we will be using duly designated golem units from both sides to go out and retrieve the wounded and fallen. Once they have reached the designated recovery bay, the affected units will have to wait between one and five minutes to recover, depending on the nature of the casualty they suffered. A neutral party will be there to decide the length of time required, and to watch the clock for each unit. Remember, everyone, we want this to be a clean game. Foul play will not be tolerated. Good luck to you all, and may the force be with you!”
Vital Spark saluted, then fired off a series of sparks from his horn that exploded in the air like fireworks. “Let the games begin!”
Grif turned to the Unity group. “You heard the colt. Show them what the imperial troopers are capable of.” With that, the units and Thalia went to work setting up the base and making snowballs.
Pensword grinned at the chance to actually participate in the battle for once, rather than being stuck on the sidelines. He turned around and looked at the foals. “Come on. Since Pinkie Pie can’t help us in the main fight, due to the theme’s restrictions this year, she promised to help us create our snow base.” His grin widened as Matthew showed him ideas and images from the movies the group had drawn the inspiration for this event from. This was definitely going to be good.
While the base was being constructed, the CMC looked up at their “patron” to the resistance effort. Hammer Strike remained firm and imposing, but a hint of a smile pulled at the edges of his mouth as they looked up at him in anticipation.
“So, what did you make for us this time?” Sweetie Belle asked. Her mane had been done up in two curling buns on either side of her head, and a tight clinging winter camouflage complete with snow belts and fur hood helped to complete the ensemble, while granting her the extra advantage of blending into the snow properly.
“Please tell me it’s a super awesome reloadable snow cannon,” Scootaloo begged. A special helmet with a yellow visor had been shoved on her head, and the same insignia Pensword had painted on his shoulder had been painted onto the helmet’s back for everyone to see. “I promise I won’t aim for Diamond Tiara this time!”
“I sure hope not,” Applebloom said. “With us facing Grif, instead of Taze, we’re gonna need all the help we can get.” A miniaturized version of military rank pins had been sewn into her winter gear, and a thick set of winter wraps covered her muzzle and head to preserve heat, while giving her a more mysterious appearance, much like a ninja.
“Settle down, kid. We’ll be fine,” Button Mash said with a cocky smirk. He wore a black vest over a tanned shirt, and for this one time, he had chosen to go without his beanie for the costume’s sake, allowing his messy red mane to fly free in the cold winter air.
“It’s pretty much a snow cannon,” Hammer Strike replied. “Nice and simple. Just load it with snow, aim, and pull that cord,” he said, pointing to the rear of the cannon. “I won’t be sticking around, since I kinda, you know, melt snow.”
“That is a shame,” Scootaloo muttered, kicking some of the snow around her. “I wish you could be part of the fun. You’ll watch us, though, right?” she asked.
“Of course,” Hammer Strike replied with a smile.
“Wish us luck. We’re going to try and win this year,” Sweetie Belle said with her usual excited squeak. With those words said, the CMC, plus Button Mash, hitched themselves to the snow cannon, and began to drag it away on skis towards their base. Off in the distance, the other kids worked to prepare for the oncoming storm.
Grif grinned as he stood back and admired what his forces had put together. The prize for the most creative ideas was still in effect, and many, it seemed, were eager to win the chance to eat at Hammer Strike’s table. Combining multiple talents, the “empire” had put together a miniature bunker, complete with fortified entrances on the front, back, and sides. Strategically placed openings would allow defenders to throw snowballs from inside the fortress. In fairness to the game, no solid snow roof had been placed over the top; however, Pegasi had generated a condensed layer of fog, which would provide a level of visual interference from any who attempted to hit them from above. Unicorns had excavated the snow down to the solid ground beneath, allowing the ground to freeze as the spare snow was put towards planned snowball caches around the base and reinforcing the outer walls. The fort’s walls had been separated into a layer of ice, a layer of cloud, a layer of snow, and a second layer of cloud beyond that. Several towers had been shaped outside to allow for strategic guards, as well as barricades and border walls to provide cover in the case of an invasion. Two cloud cannons had been shaped and placed near the entrance for long range artillery support.
Grif pronounced the fortress adequate as he placed the empire’s flag on one of the towers. The flags were a new addition as an added rule to make the competition more interesting. If one force could steal an enemy's flag, and keep it for twenty four hours, it would be worth a bonus to that day's end score. At the end of each day, a panel of judges would award a score based on each force's actions. The side with the largest overall score would be the winner of the war.
“With this snow fortress, we will show them the power of our anger,” Grif said as he entered while his troops split up to cover their positions, dressed in either white plastic armor or black costumes with large flanged black helmets.
“Grif? You keep mentioning the dark. You know what? I’m not doing this,” Thalia’s magically altered voice boomed in a deep monotone, until she took it off. “Seriously, you keep mentioning the dark side. Are we supposed to be the good guys or the bad guys here?”
“Good and evil are all in perspective, my very young apprentice,” Grif told her, before walking away slowly.
“... Oookay,” Thalia said. She shook her head, and chuckled as she rolled her eyes, before she followed him inside. “I guess today, we’re evil.”
Meanwhile, the rebel base was starting to shape up on the other side of the field. In stark contrast to the empire’s flag, which was an empty black with the empire insignia in white, their flag was a rich blue with the same white rebel symbol as they had born on their armor. As an added measure for protection, they had agreed to keep the flag hidden in a supply room that they would build next to the hangar for their aerial troops. Since these entrances would be more heavily fortified, it made sense to keep the flag there.
Trenches lined the front and around the sides, and the foals had agreed to take after their opponents’ example, utilizing a fog layer to protect from assault and any spies that might try to peer into their counsel room. A series of random openings dotted the surface of the structure for hidden fighters to strike their enemies, and an especially large cluster of these openings surrounded an aerial port that had been built for incoming and outgoing flyers. As part of the structures, Pinkie had used her geological knowhow to manufacture a series of pebble-based structures that would serve as stockpiles structures, while some of her patented party cannons had been modified and fitted into the fort’s core structure for larger and more rapid snowball attacks.
Off on the side of the base, a row of six disks that had been enlarged with assistance from Twilight’s magic stood waiting to be deployed by the more powerful Unicorns and stronger Earth Ponies to protect against aerial bombardment, and potentially assist in breaking through to the enemy’s base.
Pensword looked grimly at his fellow troops. Once again, thanks to Pinkie Pie, and his own donation of one modern day planning table, they had a 3D image of the entire battlefield laid out before them, with sensors that had been staked in the ground at varying intervals to give an accurate reading of the battle. Naturally, Grif had also been given a similar advantage. After all, it was only fair. He slowly grinned as idea after idea was hashed around the table, coming from Scootaloo, Button Mash, Little Pip, and even Pip’s father. Button Mash proved one of the most resourceful, however, thanks to all his previous experience with strategy-based games.
On top of this, Pensword had insisted they focus on building multiple fallback points with booby traps and ambush points included, in case they should happen to be breached. While the foals weren’t too keen on using up so much energy in the construction when there was still a battle to win, Pensword had managed to work out a schedule with the assistance of one of the more adept organizers in the class to minimize fatigue, and help prepare for the long haul ahead.
The field itself had seven key capture points for Ponies to reach and take in their conquest of the opposing fort. While they weren’t necessary, seizing and holding these posts until the end of the match would result in bonus points, and potential buffs or resupplies as certain magi chose to conjure at their discretion on an intermittent time schedule.
In the middle of an important deliberation, a letter suddenly appeared on the table, disrupting the magical projections of both parties. An identical message notified the commanders that the Snow Wars had just been extended an extra day, so Princess Luna could join in the fun on the fourth day with promise of Alicorn magic to renew the depleted stock of both parties for an all out attack finale.
The foals cheered at that news, and Pensword smiled as he looked down on their flushed faces. Moon River chirped at a corner as she sat in her playpen, wrapped in a protective blanket, with a tiny helmet that spun around as she saw fit. Her usual foal stand had been replaced with a cylindrical design that moved around when she wriggled, so she could see all around the room. As she pressed various buttons, the hat would chirp as a series of boops and beeps followed a pre-set lighting sequence that caused the foal to shriek joyfully at the entertainment. Pensword couldn’t help but chuckle as he wondered how Grif would react to the sight of their own personal R2-D2.
He looked at the seven grey capture points, particularly the three that currently laid under the Empire’s control. It would be a hard fight, and he looked forward to trying to capture either the flag or get a foothold at the other midpoints. With a final nod, and a battle plan in place, he made his way to the hangar, where one hundred seventy six foals and a few parents stood in full battle array, waiting for an inspiring speech. Pensword wasn’t about to disappoint.
“Foals, mares, and colts of the Resistance! We are here to show that we are the true rulers of the Ponyville snow days. New Unity might have their own fun, their own snow, but unlike us, they have to wait for the whims of the forest. They want to usurp these fields for their own fun!” He stopped while the kids faked booed, and the parents chuckled at the antics and showmanship.
“This snow base will be the location of our stand. We will not retreat, and we shall push them off our fields!” Pensword smirked, even as he saw the spirits of his brother and sister standing near the CMC’s extended group. “They may take our fields, and our snow,” he shouted, “but they shall never take our fun!” he roared, even as he paraphrased a certain famous Scotsman from Earth. “Let’s go out there, and show that we can, in fact, defeat the greatest trained military there is!”
The Foals shouted and cheered as they moved towards their battle stations, anxiously awaiting the signal from Twilight that the battle phase could begin. As Vital had in the beginning, so Twilight did now as she flashed into the center of the battle field, and hovered there, before launching an explosive display of magic into the sky, and shouting at the top of her voice.
“Let the battle begin!”
The foals raced forward to capture the two points closest to the rebel base, making sure that they could dive and start making snowballs in the field, if needed.
“For the empire!” the call came from the other side as Unity soldiers sent their first volley forward.
While a few foals were hit, none were truly taken out, and they returned in kind as ten foals took to the air with snowballs in makeshift bomber bags. One carefully timed pull of a string led to a deadly blanket bomb of compacted snow from above. And if they wished to conserve ammunition, the foals could reach into the bags to pelt their enemies with carefully aimed snowballs instead. Pensword was remained at the command center to coordinate the battle where he could, and continued to utilize Button Mash’s keen gaming instincts to help prepare strategies. A full six hundred points had to be earned by either team, before their commanders could properly take to the field anyways, so now it was merely a matter of who could reach that tally first.
The first hour went by with several “lightning raids” from the empire. The troops would arrive, attack with a volley, and then melt away, a procedure that was made easier by the white reflective armor which had proved to be a rather effective hinderance to Pensword’s aerial attacks. The cannons served as an effective front line defense, sending out entire walls of snowballs with every shot fired. It seemed Grif and his empire weren't pulling any punches.
Despite the raids, Pensword kept up a solid defense of his own, knocking off enemy troops each time. A particularly devilish show of youthful cunning reared its head as a team of foals suddenly popped out from a series of trap doors beneath the snow to pelt their attackers from behind, pinning them down before elimination.
The air wasn’t safe either as bombing runs continued to rise, and snowballs whizzed through the air like hail. One particularly well placed shot to a wing joint caused a Gryphon to be grounded, due to a sprained wing. The foal responsible nearly fell into a fit of tears, but a few kindly fibs on the Gryphon’s part, combined with over-the-top dramatic acting calmed the little Pony down. All the same, the filly in question, a cute little pink Unicorn, refused to leave the Gryphon’s side as they shared mugs of hot cocoa and comics together on the sidelines.
By the third hour of the battle, the front lines had stabilized, with each side owning three capture points, and the middle one having changed hooves four times already. The groups on both sides struggled to take the other’s capture point. The sides had moved up items and a few “vehicles,” mostly things with cardboard or treads. It was still impressive, however, with the snowball launchers that had been included in their builds. They did give a bit of an edge, just not enough to get folks moving forward. By this time, the Gryphon with the sprained wing was in in the observation building with his new filly friend, who was now out of the game for the day, thanks to a case of brain freeze, due to overexposure to the snow when she’d tried divebombing with a pile she’d carried directly on her back to try to take the enemy’s control point at the center of the field.
“Commander, we have a problem!” Pipsqueak said as he rushed into the command center.
“What’s happening, Pip? What did Grif pull this time?”
“It’s not what’s happening; it’s what's happened! The flag! The guard just noticed it’s a decoy. We don’t know how long ago it was switched.”
“And what is the status on our attacks on the flag?” Pensword asked. “Whatever it is, I want Grif to think we’re trying to reclaim our flag. Get troops moving, and push forward harder. He’ll be willing to sacrifice the central point, if he thinks we’re going to keep up the pressure after taking it. That will be his downfall. I want that center position held permanently.” He smirked. “And make sure to capture as many of his units as you can. The more POWs we have, the better.”
“Yes, Sir. There is another point of concern, however. We’ll keep pressing the attack, but we’re getting a strong resistance, a figure dressed in green armor. It’s silent, fast, and brutally efficient,” Pipsqueak said nervously.
“Oh no....” Pensword paled as his eyes widened. “Get Dinky to target the green armored being now. Give her anything she asks for, and let her move forward. Just make sure we hold what we have, and take the next points. Oh, and Pip, if you can, tell Dinky to also look for our flag, if she has the time.”
Pipsqueak saluted, and raced out to fulfill his orders as the sound of numerous loud thumps slammed against the walls. “It’s the armored figure, Sir,” Pipsqueak announced as he looked outside. “They attached a cannon to its back.”
“Of course they did. Of flipping course they did.” Even as they spoke, the air was suddenly shadowed with a volley of snowballs. Pinkie’s snowball cannons were firing at a rapid rate as they targeted the attacker. No matter the skill, the snow that was launched was too heavy for anyone to survive unscathed. The armored figure had no choice but to retreat.
“The rebels are increasing their efforts,” Thalia reported, still unsure just how Grif had convinced her to put the helmet back on, though it did add a neat effect for her voice, she supposed.
“Good. Good. Everything's going according to plan,” Grif said as he idly twirled the flag in his talons. “Do they suspect anything?”
“No, my master. They believe we are ignorant of their plans. They have not yet found our spy,” Thalia said.
“Perfect. Soon, my apprentice, we shall show them the true power of the dark side!” Grif cackled.
“They appear to be planning to send Dinky after our bounty hunter.”
“Just as we thought they would. And that is why I shall send you, my apprentice.” Grif gestured forward into the battlefield.
Thalia gave a nod, before turning to leave.
Grif chuckled as he examined the flag. The rules were clear that each team's flag had to be placed in the open. However, there was no rule against the commander keeping the opposing team's flag with them. If Pensword wanted the flag back, he would have to infiltrate the empire's base to get it, and they weren’t ready for a raid of that scale yet.
Gilda glided worriedly into the throne room. “Uh … we’re in danger of actually losing the eastern capture point, Emperor. That will give them direct access to assault the number two snow cannon. They’ve committed a large force to the center. We should commit our reserves from the Western banks and here at the base to reinforce the Eastern point and keep them from advancing any closer.
“Very good,” Grif praised, “but pull a squad from our reserve units, and send them to the eastern front. The magma squad, I think. Perhaps they can salvage the situation.” Grif had received no end of Changling volunteers for the day, and not wanting to cut them out, but already being full on units, he had put three squads of Changelings on reserve.
“Consider it done,” Gilda replied with a vicious grin. “We’ll keep the position, and force the stalemate. I have to say, I expected better from the commander. These tactics truly are childish.”
“He’s leading children, and it’s early yet. Don’t underestimate him. He may want us to get secure in our superiority just before he breaks out his real ability,” Grif warned.
“Really? What’s the worst he could do? They’re foals. They don’t have the discipline we have, nor the attention span,” Gilda muttered. “We haven’t won, simply because of the fact they outweigh us in sheer force of numbers.
“Then why do they have multiple POWs, while we only have a single prisoner?” Grif countered. “Now go. No more dilly dallying. We have a war going on.”
Gilda looked like she was about to make a retort, but thought better of it, before turning and leaving, wondering that very same question. Grif actually caught his eye wandering as she did. With a supreme act of will, he forced himself away from her retreating form. Where had that come from?
Pensword scrutinized the map as a swarm of red dots charged from the enemy base towards the Eastern capture point. He grinned, and looked to Featherweight. Though small, he was able to dart about easily through the snow, and that made him a valuable asset as a messenger. “Tell the troops to activate the plans in this paper,” he instructed as he shoved said paper into Featherweight’s hooves. The foal gave a smart salute, and then was gone. That Pegasus had talent. He would make a great addition to the guard one day, should he choose that path.
With that musing complete, Pensword turned to face Preston, who was currently undisguised to conserve heat and magic. His Red Chitin reflected the light of the map, seeming almost to glow. “Are you sure no Changelings would like to join our side, and play alongside the foals?” he asked as he scoured the map once more for any sudden changes. While he doubted Grif would use such an underhanded tactic, it was entirely possible a spy could have been placed in their midst, especially since Me-Me’s hive had been so insistent on wanting to join in the fun. He was already working out a way to test for potential spies. After all, with all the numbers they’d accumulated from the foals of Ponyville, it would be a simple matter to have a few extra foals slip through when no one was watching.
“Positive, Sir.”
Pensword only hummed as he looked at the map. “Preston, can you do a visual check on the snowballs we have in reserve, in case we have to defend the hallways of the base?”
“Yes, Sir.” Preston nodded, before heading to do as asked.
Pensword nodded his head absently as he returned to his work. A few minutes later, he noticed his dots moving right into place. It would seem young Featherweight had done it again. The capture point that they had yet to touch was now under a three-pronged assault from a good seventy-five foals. At this rate, they would be able to not only seize the location, but maintain the ground they’d taken with the remainder of the assault troops.
All was going according to plan. Victory seemed near at hand, but then, as if rising from the earth, Grif’s dots suddenly multiplied as the veritable wave of oncoming foals was slowed, and then stalemated.
“Sir! Reports coming in. Grif’s fielding another hero unit in his counter attack,” Pipsqueak shouted as he raced into the room.
“Which one? What is its description? And can we please get some of our own heroes out there? We have to take that capture point. I will not be stopped a second year in a row!”
“It’s a stallion I’ve never seen before, Sir. Muddy brown fur with a white mane and beard, wearing a black robe with a brown cloak. Sir, he has Changelings with him!”
Pensword smacked his forehead, and groaned. “Get Old Ben Kenobi to attack there, okay?” Pensword ordered Pipsqueak.
Pipsqueak nodded and went to find the hero.
“I really hope this works,” Pensword muttered. “Otherwise, it is going to be hoof to hoof, and....” He sighed. “I hope we do better than the movie.” He watched silently as the icons continued to move along the map.
“They’re preparing to counterattack,” a Changeling drone spoke to Grif directly. “He will send Kenobi.”
“Very good, my loyal spy. Now go, before you are discovered,” Grif said. A moment later, the drone blinked, and looked at Grif. “The connection is gone. He hasn’t been found out yet.”
“Very good. Tell Thalia to prepare herself. Should Mutatio fail, she shall cover his retreat,” Grif said, before cackling to himself.
“Of course.” The drone bowed, before leaving.
“So, you’ve come,” Grif said as he turned to a small figure wearing a heavy black cloak just entering the room.
“Of course,” the young voice rang clearly through the room as tiny hooves crunched definitively across the snow. “I’m supposed to stand in for my brother, after all. Now what do you need me to do?”
“In thirty minutes, we break for the noon break. When that break is over, you will lead an immediate attack against the center point. During that time, Thalia and Mutatio will be pressing their other points. Their forces will be spread too thin to counterattack effectively, and you will give them confusion.”
“A few misplaced dust devils ought to do the trick.” The edge of the foal’s muzzle curved in a malevolent smirk. “Especially if we add enough magic to manipulate the winds into sending the snowballs back at their throwers.” He pulled back his hood to reveal a young colt with light gray fur and a brooding black mane and tail. His mane had been pulled straight back, giving him a permanent windswept appearance as he looked back to the emperor of their little compound. “Anything else you needed from me, my emperor?”
“No. Go pick your troops, Rumble, and prepare them. As soon as they begin counter attacking Thalia and Mutatio, you press your attack.”
Rumble knelt, and bowed his head. “As you command.” When he rose, a red glint shone in his eye, thanks to the specially enchanted clasp that tied his robe across his neck. “This is going to be fun.”
Pensword was going through the motions of chewing. The counter attack had just begun, and it was going his way for once, but he was waiting for the other horseshoe to drop. So many things could go wrong so easily, especially considering how he knew he was dealing with an incredibly brilliant and well-read mind on top of the vicious warrior tactician he called his friend. That particular combination would prove deadly, if not handled with the proper precautions. Yes, he would have to remain on the tips of his hooves. Yet a sense of excitement gripped him as he grinned down at his map. The red dots had swarmed the seizure point just as the timer that hovered above the display neared zero. “Yes! We are inside the compound.”
As the timer ran down to zero, a loud horn sounded over the playing field, heralding the end of the first half of that day’s match. It would be up to both sides to organize and distribute their lunches to the troops, and to ensure the proper markers were properly placed, so that exact positions could be properly recorded.
Pensword groaned. “Just as it was getting good,” he grumbled as he scuffed at the snow. Then he sighed. “Right.” He turned to face the messenger Pony. “Featherweight, call up the pause flag for lunch. Then start rotating rations through the ranks. Command staff eats last.” He chuckled. “Strange thing, time. It feels like we only just started, and already we’re halfway done.”
Featherweight nodded, and grinned as he took off to spread the word. Whistles pierced the grounds, calling for a full stop, in case any stragglers hadn’t heard the initial signal. Pensword couldn’t help but chuckle as Matthew’s memories of trench warfare from World War One came to the fore. How similar this battlefield had become. He smiled as he watched the packed lunches literally blur into existence as a bright blue streak raced against a pink streak in a contest to see who could drop off the most lunches first.
“Ah, Rainbow, Pinkie,” he chuckled, “you two never cease to make us smile.”
With the markers locked in, the “troops” returned to their bases with lunch in tow. Steaming soups and stews both vegetarian and non restored warmth to the Ponies’ faces and joints, while warm, fluffy bread helped to sop up the remains, ensuring everyone got the perfect bite. Hot drink stands and fresh apple pie stations had been set up on tables for ease of distribution as the two sides lined up at their respective forts, courtesy of Sugarcube Corner and the Apple Family Farm. Much to Pensword’s consternation, he had also received a similar meal, rather than the military rations he had expected to be delivered. The grumpy frown lasted for all of about ten seconds, before the foals started to giggle and point his way. A sheepish smile soon pulled at his lips as he remembered this wasn’t meant to be real combat. This was supposed to be a fun contest, a battle of wits and endurance. It didn’t matter what type of food they had, or even if they took any major hits. The whole point of the exercise was to have fun, and enjoy that more natural magic the first snow always has to offer. With that thought firmly in mind, he dug ravenously into his meal, accompanied by the many hearty cheers of his young army.
The more he began to relax and enjoy the meal, the easier it became to strategize. His smile turned into an excited grin as a particularly clever little strategy took root, and began to grow. Yes, it might just be enough to throw that feather-covered sith lord off balance. Still, he would have to wait and see, bide his time. To give away too much too soon could cost a great deal in the long run. He casually wondered just what Grif and his forces were up to for a time, then returned to the paradise that was the combined efforts of Pinkie Pie and Applejack in their sugary confections. The foals ate quickly, and spoke breathlessly as they regaled each other with their exploits from the last few hours.
Back in the other base, Grif took another long pull from a large mug of tomato soup as he looked over the map one more time. He was certain if his plan worked that he’d be able to entrench his people well enough to hold for the remaining three hours of the day. Preston’s reports revealed that the enemy would be needing snowballs soon. Low ammo meant less resources to push for the day. If they could hold until the day's end, then, tomorrow, they could launch an assault as their opening move. They already had the flag, and he was certain their current performance, plus the boost, would give them a considerable lead right off the bat.
That wasn’t to say they were without problems. Pensword had a clear advantage in numbers. Even with the Changelings joining Grif’s side, it had also become apparent several of their fortifications would require immediate maintenance. Walls seemed fit to collapse. The spells on two of their golems meant for retrieving ‘wounded’ were beginning to fray, and they would soon have to finish the day short-handed. Shock and surprise had been Grif’s weapons so far, but those wouldn’t work forever, so where was the angle he could exploit when they did? He kept the questions to himself for now as he continued to scour over the map, working on the numbers with as much care as he could muster.
Back at the rebel base, the snowball assembly line eagerly returned to their posts, anxious for the game to resume, so they could get to work again. While the numbers were low, Pensword knew he could take one of the control points, and with their latest victory, one of the two middle control points had been claimed. Now they just needed to claim its sister. The flag was a lost cause, unless some foal managed the impossible. It could be retrieved the next day. Parents watched, waiting for the end of the day to come, so they could bring their little ones home and help come up with strategies and techniques to give their children an advantage. Fortunately, the walls, though damaged, were high, which meant that, despite erosion, the foals would have cover for a longer period of time than the enemy. And, worst case scenario, they would be able to break down the wall as a source for emergency snowball reserves. The commander smiled as he reviewed an updated POW list. It seemed that they had about two squads of Gryphons in their jail.
He looked at another piece of paper written by one of the older foals, and he signed it. Thanks to foresight, they had enough reserve snowballs to surprise the enemy. The children had been careful to make it look like they were running low on ammunition. Any spies who had watched this morning would probably think he intended to hoard the balls for a later attack. He couldn’t wait to see the looks on their faces when he proved their reports wrong. It would make for an excellent test to weed out the ranks as well. Two birds with one stone.
A bright green flare went up from the Empire’s base, signaling they were ready to begin again. Pensword nodded, and sent the signal as one of the foals pulled the wire on a popper, and sent a bright red flare from the fort’s roof to signal the Rebels’ readiness. The flare had just begun its downward arc, when the Empire’s retaliation came fast and hard. The recently claimed hold was nearly overrun, requiring Pensword to order relief columns from two other control points Changelings swarmed from the left and Ponies from the right. Enemy hero units led both charges with a ruthless brutality.
Pensword looked at the others. “Get Dinky after the Changelings, and get Han on the adult Ponies. Hold those lines, and capture what troops you can. Make sure we succeed in the middle, understand? If we hold the central control point, we’ll be able to project to all the other ones tomorrow,” he ordered. He looked to Preston. “What is the hive saying?” he demanded. “All’s fair in war, and you’re a valuable asset in this case. If you can glean anything, tell me.” With that many Changelings at Grif’s disposal, it was pretty obvious who the hive had chosen to support.
“I can’t get a clear signal,” Preston told him as he scrunched his face in effort. “I’m not disconnected from the hive song, but I’m being sent what would equate to static. They know I’m here, so I suppose they’re taking steps to block me.”
Pensword watched the map intently as the reinforcements organized and charged for the counterattack. But even as they did, the wind picked up at the center, swirling around to pick up loose snow, filling the air to obscure the troops’ vision. While Pensword could still see the position of his troops, all visual input for that section of the battlefield soon became completely obscured.
Pensword growled angrily as he smacked a hoof onto the table. “Pull back to the defenses,” he ordered. “Bunker down, and get back.” He knew this would happen eventually. It was only a matter of time before Grif chose to use his powers over wind. After all, what better way to plan an attack than in the middle of a whiteout that you control? If they were to have any hope of even tying with Grif, they would need to keep the losses low. Pensword needed to keep his forces in check. “Get guards on the jails. Do not let anyone break them out.”
When the wind finally broke, most of the attacking force was already being taken into custody. Maybe a tenth of the foals managed to retreat as Pegasi rounded up the captured. There in the center, a single Pegasus foal with grey fur and a back mane stood smirking arrogantly in a somewhat tattered black robe with a grey plate that covered his upper chest and the back of his neck like a collar. His midsection was covered in a collection of leather belts with extra cloth wrappings wound above each hoof. With a grin, Snow Killer, AKA Rumble, seemed to realize he could be seen as he gave the rebel base a bow, before retreating into the newly reclaimed middle point.
The base echoed with Pensword’s roar of anger, frustration, and betrayal. He raced to the air to see what could be done. While the attacks on the two flanks had been halted, and the Rebels had managed to take more prisoners in those spots, the situation was still rather grim. The gambit in the central control point had been a disaster, even with other foals trying to help. The current count now stood at fifty adult units in the Rebel jail and twenty-two foals caught in the imperial prison. They had lost almost the entire frontal prong, meaning the entire rest of the day would have to be played from a defensive standpoint, especially with so many reserves having been wasted in the assault. The implications of these results were quite clear. Grif was a brilliant strategist, and the brute force his body provided made that mind all the more dangerous, but even he shouldn’t have been able to anticipate this attack. “Preston!” he yelled.
“Yes, Commander?” The Changeling was quick to rush to his superior’s side.
“I’ve come to a decision, and I don’t make it lightly. You are going to head out, and join the troops as part of our defense efforts. With the recent failure, we have little choice but to shore up as best we can. I need you there to warn any of the foals of Changeling or any other attacks you and your empathic abilities might detect. Am I understood?” he barked.
Preston saluted. “Understood, Commander. I’ll go prep for the next outgoing attack.”
Pensword returned the salute. “Dismissed, Preston.”
“Yes, Sir.” With that finished, Preston left to prepare, and to relay his orders to Grif.
With Preston off, Pensword began formulating hit and run strategies. The only way he could make up for lost lost ground would be to claim more prisoners, and with the loss of his troops, that meant he had that many more to capture, if he hoped to offset the loss. Fortunately, he knew his troops. In a setting like this, the adults would likely be cocky, willing to take risks they wouldn’t normally take in real combat. That would be to their advantage. At least, he prayed it would. It was about the best he could manage under the circumstances.
Meanwhile, back at the imperial base, Grif smiled as he went over to a chess board, grabbed the black bishop, and knocked over the white knight.
It was the end of the day, and the combatants were packing up, while parents on one end and those in charge of repairs on the other worked at their duties. Thanks to Hammer Strike’s generous donations, the foals would be staying at the Punch Bowl for the night. The adults would be staying in their own homes, or in enchanted tents that would insulate against the cold snow, without melting the precious substance.
The end of the day saw one more foal and sixteen more adults captured over the course of three hours, making for a total of twenty-three foals to sixty-six adults. However, Rumble soon found out the price for siding with Grif the way he had. He would have to room with the adults, and would not be able to enjoy the comforts of his peers at the Punch Bowl. The only chance he would have to enjoy their company would be at the combined dinner that had been prepared to celebrate the end of the first day.
Despite the combat coming to an end, Pensword was already running over tactics and plans for the next day. He had wanted to just have a silly snowball fight. Instead, he got something else, and he would have to work hard, if he wanted his troops to come out on top. Fox Feather was already drafting up plans on how to retrieve the lost flag, and he hoped to snare some of the enemy heroes. After all, to take a hero was to gain a major point bonus. With these and many more thoughts in his head, he started to trek towards the Punch Bowl.
The panel of judges consisted of Vinyl Scratch, Twilight Sparkle, and Clover the Clever. After a fifteen-minute deliberation, they scored the rebels a daily score of 861 points for their tactics and efficiency, as well as a small bonus for their large amount of POWs.
The Empire earned a daily score of 1014 points for tactics, quick adaption to changes in the battlefield, and the notable bonus for maintaining the control over the enemy's flag until the game ended. They also received a small bonus for their use of espionage and shock-and-awe tactics.
When the judging had finished, the commanders and their lieutenants shook hooves and/or talons.
“Good game,” Grif told Pensword with a smile. “You nearly had me a few times.”
“Yeah, but you got what you wanted, messing my plans up,” Pensword growled back. “I was having a fun time, but it seems you are taking this more seriously. Tomorrow won’t be the same as today.”
“Tomorrow is rarely the same as today. Remember, I started this as a military exercise. Still, you need to calm down, Pensword. Let’s remember to have some fun, all right?”
Pensword nodded. “I know, I know. It’s just….” Pensword shook his head. “Your little stunt with Rumble’s got me and a few other foals irritated. I should be better tomorrow. Sorry,” he apologized. Then just a hint of a smirk pulled at his lips. “Still, you’d better watch yourself tomorrow, Grif. I have some interesting plans.”
“Well, Good luck, then.” Grif chuckled as he and Thalia headed for the Empire table. Several gryphons began humming the Imperial March cheerfully as Grif headed for his seat.
“Right.…” Pensword drew out as he moved to the Rebel’s table to eat, talk, and otherwise vent over the day’s events. They deserved the break. Tomorrow would be tough, and they all knew it. They had seen how much Unity had improved over the last year. If they wanted to succeed this year, they would have to step up their game. Pensword took a passive sip of his tea as he took in all the discussion. Perhaps it was time to go back and read a certain book again. Matthew said it might help for the next match, and at this point, he was willing to try anything. The least he could do was give his foals a fighting chance at victory, and he would do his best to make sure they got it.
The night passed well, and without incident. To help maintain the charade of antagonism between the two sides, a large sheet sewn by Rarity had been drawn across the tavern, dividing it in half. The adult side got the bar, while the foal side held hot chocolate, s'mores, and hearty stews. Seeing as not all adults liked to drink, and young Rumble was also on that side, hot chocolate and a few other alternative beverages had been provided. Much like their fellow competitors, a variety of succulent dishes had been prepared, both meat and vegetable-based.
The Empire treated Rumble with respect and high honors as they sang his praises and regaled each other with his accolades. A silencing spell had been woven into the dividing cloth’s material to prevent either side from gaining an unfair advantage as they planned for the next day’s battle. Gryphons took turns singing songs of victory and valor. Pegasi held Rumble on their shoulders, and paraded him around the room in a miniature triumph. When lights out was ordered, the troops prepared for bed immediately, as was tradition of the three races. Before battle, Gryphons, Pegasi, and Thestrals slept alone, even if their mates lay close by.
In the seclusion of one of the far corners, Grif wasn’t sleeping. He examined the maps and reports of the previous day’s battle. He knew Pensword was going to press harder. That meant defense was going to be a high priority. The walls would have to be looked over and reinforced, and other preparations would likely have to be made. Their forces led by just under two hundred points for now. If they kept the flag, and kept things contained to small lightning-fast battles, they could prevent the rebel forces from overcoming the point bonus of the flag, which would mean he could spend the day planning a final stronger assault on the rebel base. Satisfied with his plans, he rolled up the documents, and placed them beneath a loose floorboard. Then he hid a second set of dummy documents under his cot. He doubted Pensword would take such an underhanded measure as sneaking over to steal, but he wasn’t about to underestimate his old friend.
On the other side, the foals moped at first, due to the crushing blow Grif and his troops had struck against them. Not only had they lost their flag, but the Empire team had also reclaimed a capture point, and “killed” multiple units. Despite their numbers, the foals weren’t feeling nearly so confident as they had last year. Pensword could read the room like a battle map. The way the team’s morale had been dropping, there was little chance they would be enthusiastic enough to put up a proper resistance in the next day’s match. That could not stand. He flared his wings, and alighted on a table, much to Berry Punch’s chagrin. It seemed that reaction was what a few of the foals needed, though, as Pensword noted the few giggles and a couple of smiles on the children’s faces. He stomped a few times to gather their attention.
“My fellow Rebels,” his voice boomed, “we may have lost the flag, and our friends, but remember this. We carry the greater numbers! The betrayal of Rumble was a heavy blow. It is likely he who stole our flag, and replaced it with such a clever facsimile.” A series of boos and hisses followed that remark. Pensword raised a wing to silence the crowd. “But know this. With Rumble’s betrayal, they have blown their spy’s cover. Now the playing field is leveled. We will gain the advantage tomorrow. We will strike back. And we will make up for the ground we have lost this day. However, that is for tomorrow. It is time for us to focus on the present, on this night, our night. Tonight, we celebrate the fact that we, a simple band of children, stood hoof-to-hoof with one of the best trained military units in Equestria. Yes, we have taken casualties, but we took more than double in turn. Our tactics are successful, and they will continue to be, so long as we work together as a team. We will make the empire rue the day they dared to raise their hooves and talons against us. So eat, drink, be merry. Tomorrow, we renew our fight, and we are going to win!”
Some few foals raised questioning wings and hooves, and Pensword raised his own hooves placatingly in response. “We will get the flag back, eventually, but our main focus is to get within striking distance of the enemy’s fortress. We are smaller. That means we need closer support bases. Tomorrow, I have only one standing order. You are to take all the field control posts, and maintain them. Get us to the enemy’s gates. With all the command posts under our control, we will have possession of the multiplier. Once we have that, a carefully applied strategy will easily regain the points we lost, and allow us to overtake our opponents. If we can keep those points into the third day, we will have a key advantage. The Empire will be hard pressed to take ground, and we won’t lose a single point. They are elusive and cunning. They will conserve their main heroes for the more serious thrusts, and likely sacrifice their weaker heroes to test our defenses. They may try to use the allure of a hero as bait to get you to leave your posts. Do not engage in that trickery. The main objective is to take all the points you can by gaining complete control of the field. If the opportunity presents itself, you may claim a hero, but only if it doesn’t put the main objective in danger. Do I make myself clear?”
The foals cheered, but not very loudly as others replied with a salute and a, “Yes, Sir!”
“If we succeed,” Pensword continued as a sly smile pulled at his lips, “I will personally lead a school tour of the barracks at New Unity, plus a special foal-only question and answer session with any of those who you look up to in New Unity.” As he suspected, the foals’ eyes lit up with excitement at the news. The carrot had been dangled, and the children had taken it hook, line, and sinker. “Now,” he began as he looked with a defiant grin at Hard Hat, and then winked in Pip’s father’s direction. “Who wants to hear some stories about rebellions? I’m sure it’s likely to upset old Hard Shell here, but it is the theme of our battle, after all. And besides,” he added as he raised a hoof to his cheek, and whispered loudly, “if he objects, it will allow us the perfect excuse to bury him in the snow.”
Pip’s father stood up, and pulled out a fake wooden sword he’d prepared for the occasion. “And if any of you here object, they can join him.” A veritable avalanche of laughter filled the half as the rest of the foals and parents raised their mugs and cookies in a toast, while Hard Hat let out a series of incredibly disgruntled grumbles as he folded his hooves petulantly.
Pensword chuckled as he began to weave his tale, drawing upon Matthew’s memories to spice things up. He spoke of momentous events, battles that seemed hopeless, daring retreats, and many feats of strategy. However, each of the stories he told had the same underlying theme: you don’t have to win every battle, just survive, live to fight again, and above all, never lose hope.
Later that night, Pensword was busy drinking a concoction Luna had prepared to allow him to get through the next three days on only quick power naps. He had placed one set of plans with Preston, another was tucked in his desk, and the real plans had been stowed in a satchel he kept under his night shirt. He bunked down only to have his door opened as three familiar foals entered the room. Inigo, Day Moon, and Cristo looked somewhat nervously at one another, before taking up guard positions. Each wore their rebel armor, and carried an individual scroll at their belts identical to the decoys Pensword had placed.
Pensword shook his head. “What is…?” He paused as Matthew remembered one team’s tactics at a football game, where they sewed football shapes on their uniforms, and put their arms over their chests, as if they were carrying footballs. His mouth slowly widened into a grin. If the effectiveness of the plan was in doubt before, he was almost certain it would work now. No matter who lost their scrolls, the enemy would have a false set of plans, and none would be the wiser for it.
“I’m so proud of you boys,” he whispered. “Good night, my sons.”
“Good night, Dad,” They all said at once.
Day Moon spoke up just as Pensword was finally starting to nod off. “Uh, Dad, which plan do you want us to guard?”
“Desk,” he muttered through a yawn. “Now good night. And remember to take shifts.” He sighed. “If your mother finds out about this....”
“Mom already gave us the drink you took. She thought you could use some night guards on duty,” Inigo said.
“Good. And do not try to steal the other team’s plans. Let them get paranoid.”
“Yes, Sir,” the three whispered.
Pensword chuckled. “Good. Now let your father get at least the three hours’ sleep he needs.” And with that, he laid on his pillow, and immediately fell asleep. As he slept, he dreamt of battle scenarios and great snow battles. It would seem Princess Luna had given him a boon as a favor to the foals. She always did have a soft spot for them. He wondered if that would carry over to the other side, when the children finally came of age. He shrugged his dream shoulders. It didn’t matter for now, anyways. Right now, he had a battle to prep for, and a war to win.
The dawn of the second day revealed adults and foals alike waiting in their holes and trenches. The game wouldn’t resume for another thirty minutes, yet, despite the inconvenience, they all were excited to be outside and continue the match. Assembly lines were hard at work crafting snowballs and other forms of ammunition, while snow and water were added intermittently to help build up and reinforce the fortress walls. Some foals tried to catch a few more precious minutes of sleep before the match began.
“When did this happen?” Grif asked one of his subordinates as he eyed the exposed wall of their base, where the ice and snow were eroding, thanks to the moisture in the cloud layer.
“We think it started just after we left last night. The damage is extensive. We may have to remove the cloud altogether in order to maintain integrity,” one Pegasus explained to him.
“That will take more time than we have,” Grif sighed.
“Well, we could patch the worst areas with permafrost, but who knows how long that would last?”
Grif thought about it for a few minutes. Fortunately, he hadn’t planned much today anyhow. “Recall everyone from the control points. Keep the forward guard on watch, and patch the front wall. Take half of whoever’s available, and start your work from back to front. We won’t last long, if we can’t trust our own walls.
“Yes, Sir.” The Pegasus saluted, and left immediately to make the arrangements.
“Looks like it will be your day, Pensword.” Grif sighed as he looked across the battlefield.
The signal went off, and the Foals moved forward carefully, but quickly, to find the command points practically empty. The field had been abandoned! Pensword gaped at the map as a scan confirmed the data. He looked suspiciously as he stroked his chin. This was not like Grif. Nonetheless, the plans remained the same, and the bonus would be of great use to them, once they achieved it. He quickly sent the messenger to confirm orders, and instruct each of the foals to go no further than the final command points. Once they had properly secured their positions, they would organize a scouting party.
The scouts’ reports proved more than enlightening. Many of Grif’s guards were up on the walls of their fort, while others worked on bringing ammunition for the fighters to use. That indicated one of two things. Either Grif was trying to goad Pensword into making an assault, or something had gone wrong internally. He looked speculatively at the map. The cannons were positioned in different areas and angles to ensure greater coverage. That meant they couldn’t risk too many attacks. On top of that, the children were still building up walls, and moving some of Pinkie Pie’s snow cannons forward.
That being said, the least they could do was try to hamper any further attempts to leave the fort for supplies. He hastily scrawled a note, instructing the foals to continue building up their defenses, while utilizing hit-and-run tactics to disrupt enemy activity and boost points. Once the defenses were fully in place, they could begin to surround the fortress properly, trapping the Empire in its own base. Then it wouldn’t be a matter of who captured whom or killed another. Instead, it would be a siege, and Pensword knew how to siege. Already, the wheels in his head began turning as he looked for any possible areas that might make for a good infiltration point. If they could get a stealth operative in there to release the captive foals, they could wreak some real havoc on the Empire. They could easily use the enemy’s protective nature to their advantage, dividing up the guards to make the mission easier. That being said, it would still be a risk. He would have to be exceedingly careful with his choice.
As an added precaution, he made sure to add more hero units onto the field. Assuming Grif had Ponies or Gryphons lying in wait for some hidden strategy, the units would act as powerful incentive to pull them out of hiding. With the lack of warriors on the field, the initial capture strategy had to be modified. Besides, he didn’t want to win by capturing all the enemy’s forces. Where was the fun in that? Instead, he prepped his best long distance throwers, and ordered them to be deployed at the strongholds closest to the Empire’s fortress. They may not have been able to capture any more troops, but they could certainly try to pick off the Ponies on the enemy’s walls. After all, they still got points for “deaths,” and the time lapse could potentially give the opening an infiltrator would need to break through the walls and into the holding cells.
The first few probes proved disastrous. None of the first three raids made it back. The next one brought back stragglers in groups of two and three as they fled across the snow in a hasty retreat. Grif had planned his defenses well. No matter what angle of entry they tried, at least six or seven sentries were at the ready to fire back and halt the attack. The enemy cannons fired half-hearted volleys at Pensword’s walls, but those proved incapable of significant damage. It seemed that, for now, Grif was content with keeping his base safe.
The day dragged on. With the fortifications finally complete, and reinforcing equipment installed, things had come to a standstill. Pensword still had the advantage of numbers, but that was a slim advantage when compared to the experience and training of the enemy. If they really wanted to do some damage, they needed to free the prisoners. He held his breath, anxious for the first thing to go wrong, but nothing happened. No great attacks came. No troops were trapped or destroyed. No traitor advanced on the fields. Still, even if they had, this contest would teach the foals a valuable lesson, not only preparing them to handle pressure and potential defeat, but also helping them to think more like soldiers, which could prove advantageous to the next generation of Equestria’s military.
“He’s taunting us,” Grif growled as he looked to Lighting Dust, who was currently dressed in a brown robe. Her fur and mane had been enchanted to look pale white with her eyes almost glowing red. “He’s actually gloating.”
Lighting Dust gave Grif an inquisitive look. “How so? As far as I can tell, he’s just sitting there, digging into the capture points. How is that gloating?”
“He’s sent a few random pokes at our defense, but, for the most part, he’s just sitting and watching us, putting hero units out in the open.” Grif sighed.
“So why not go attack the hero units?” Dust replied with an irritated snort.
“Because he’s planned for that,” Grif retorted. “He’ll have shock squads hidden in the control points to attack the moment we strike.”
“So it’s a standstill, then,” she mused. “Will he actually try to attack us? The hole in the wall’s been patched. They won’t be able to break in easily. So what should we do about all this?” She paused suddenly as a grim smile pulled at the edges of her face. “I’ll get in. I’m the fastest warrior we have. I can easily reclaim one of the control points.”
“We can’t risk an attack, until the walls are finished,” Grif insisted. “It would leave us too widespread and vulnerable.”
Lightning Dust frowned. “I hate waiting,” she muttered.
“Impatience is death.” Grif shrugged. “Sometimes you need to wait for an opportunity to present itself.”
“And if it doesn’t present itself?”
“Then we will have to make an opportunity.” Grif raised a pondering talon to his beak as he thought about the prisons in Pensword’s base, which were currently stuffed to near capacity. If only there was some way to free them. Suddenly, a cruel smile sprung up on his face. “Lighting, find me a rune crafter. An … interesting thought has occurred to me.”
“Right away!” Lightning Dust saluted, before speeding off so quickly that she pulled snowflakes in her wake.
Pensword was busy performing a personal inspection of the fort’s prison, and smiled as he gazed in on the captured Gryphons, who were currently eating cookies and drinking hot cocoa. The bars glowed with magic that Dinky had placed in the cells. Pensword wasn’t one to gloat, but he believed the children and he were doing doing fairly well. He had yet to utter a single word about his plans, let alone the backup strategies he had compiled for emergency situations. He walked through the hallways as he inspected each separate place and glow. He smiled at each of the prisoners, while his three sons worked busily at their security posts. Somewhere, rumors had reached his ears that Moon River was flitting about as well, having her own brand of fun around the fortress. At this point, Matthew was looking forward to the fourth day and the free-for-all to come.
He paused at one of the Gryphons. “I hope your stay is well within the guidelines presented in the treatment of POWs, as passed down by the Snowball Fighting League.”
“Everything is fine,” the Gryphon replied in an even, controlled tone.
“I’ll make sure we get you an extra couple of cookies from Sugar Cube corner, then.” Pensword continued silently on his way, though not for long. Day Moon was soon at his side, an unspoken question in his eyes.
“Something’s up. I can feel it in the air, in the tips of my wings. Be ready for anything,” Pensword whispered softly. “Keep an eye on them. And if something happens, act, but don’t risk losing troops.” With those words, the commander left the jail wing of the base to check up in the situation room.
Meanwhile, back in the imperial base, Grif looked over as one of his Unicorns finished the runic formations on the paper. “And you’re certain these will do exactly as I requested, right down to the timing, Mister Crafter?”
“I had to rework the matrices a bit,” Etchwork Crafter said as he checked his work. “Experiment with crossing a few different designs, but they should do exactly what you need, when magic is applied.”
“And they can be carved in any surface?”
“Anything solid enough to retain a shape, yes,” the Unicorn nodded.
Grif’s eyes glowed an unholy reddish-yellow. “Good. Take the receiver rune and get some other Unicorns to help you. Find an out-of-sight space, and work on a rune large enough for what we plan.”
“But without the transmitting runes, the receiver won’t be of much use.”
“I have a plan.” Grif chuckled darkly. “Bring me Lighting Dust, Espionage, and Camouflage. And Rumble.” He couldn’t field Rumble as a hero unit again, but he imagined Pensword would still want him caught. Grif chuckled to himself as the Unicorn left to carry out the order. He used a quill to draw out several tiny copies of one of the designs onto the other sheets, and attached a small bit of magic to each, before ripping the sheets into fine shreds. The runes glowed, turning and rotating with each tear, before dying away. Phase one had begun.
Pensword watched from his place in the command center, watching the map and enjoying the reports. They had just taken two Gryphons prisoner who had tried to take action into their own talons. He held them in one of the command posts nearest the base for now, while they debated on whether to let them go or put them into jail. Ten foals stood guard under the command of three white Thestrals. The question was whether this would be enough. He sighed as he looked at the map. If Grif’s plan was to tie him up by watching the extra prisoners, it was a plan that was working wonderfully.
Suddenly the sound of battle raged out front.
“Sir! News from the front.” Pipsqueak ran in, half breathless. “A mass attack had been mounted on our central control point. Grif must be desperate. He sent all three hero units after us, and some reports claim they saw Rumble amongst the army. Preston already got a counter attack together, and is leading the charge.”
“Good. Let Preston maintain the lead, but pull only two off the other points for reserve, and double the guards on all entrances. You and your select friends head to the jails. This feels like a feint. Also, if we capture Rumble, keep him separate from the others. In fact, put him into the cells we had planned for Grif and his inner circle. I feel like we are walking into a trap, so I want to be ready to snap it shut on them, not us.”
Five minutes later, the sound of foals cheering was heard as Preston and his group marched in seventeen mixed imperial troops and all three heros. Preston himself lead a certain colt to Pensword. “I figured you’d want to meet this prisoner personally, Commander,” he said with a snicker.
“Thank you, Preston,” Pensword replied as he eyed the prisoners. “Take the normal troops for processing. The Heroes get to stay in another part of the base. Pip, blindfold them, and we’ll lead them to their own private quarters.” He smirked as he leaned in to whisper in their ears. “I hope you enjoy your stay, you three. As you get some baked muffins, you’ll be watched by your own special guard. Well, two guards. Mr. and Mrs. Scarecrow, we have three POWs for you.”
The heroes knew by scent and voice that the two code named guards were really Time Turner and Derpy, and shuddered at what that could entail, should they step out of line. “Enjoy your stay,” Pensword said as he let them go. “Preston, I want a debrief now,” he ordered, then turned to face his Changeling aide de camp. “Start from the moment you decided to gather troops, and give me a play-by-play recap.”
Back in the cell blocks, the troops were locked up quickly and efficiently. They made more than the usual fuss and half-hearted threats about what they’d do, once they got out, but once the door slammed shut, they seemed to pacify. They joked with the other prisoners, and told stories about daring escapes and brushes with death. Strangely enough, they began to play tic tac toe. Each of the groups in the cell blocks have carved their own little boards in the ice. Naturally, with each match, they they had to spread out further. A few other prisoners began to make false time records of their stay, seemingly covering months, and still others began carving graffiti. It seems like they were attempting to make the cells look more like they’d been used before. None of the guards thought much of it. None of them really saw a pattern as the works began to cross, distracted by the argument about who had ruined whose carving, game, or count.
Meanwhile, after having finished his careful debriefing with Pensword, Preston had shared a laugh with the commander about how furious Grif appeared from the wall, performed his usual duties, then checked on the reserves to ensure they were properly stocked. Every once in awhile, he’d drop a few bits of paper, nothing to worry about, really. They were probably spent taking notes on each of the storage counts, nothing of consequence in the grand scheme of the battle.
That was the last major skirmish before the lunch break. When the alarm sounded, both sides were pretty much intact from what they had been at the end of the skirmish. The repairs on the imperial base were almost finished. And as the troops took out their ration packs and began to eat, Grif allowed himself a faint smile. The game was afoot.
The foal side broke out their own meals, the POWs were fed, and a few of the foals feeding them got curious, adding their own little games of tic-tac-toe, just for fun. A few others marked extra lines, before closing the cell doors and taking their meals, enjoying one another’s company.
The three heroes had a cell to their own, and, per Pensword’s orders, were fed muffins and butter, courtesy of Derpy, albeit … without her permission. Derpy chastised The Doctor for using her personal stash, which led to many a snicker around the quarters. Despite the joviality of the setting, Pensword was on edge. Something was going to happen after lunch. He could feel it. He’d given written orders that he hoped would preserve the troop numbers, in case something else happened, but he hoped things wouldn’t. He could feel that Pegasus instinct, that dislike of losing as Rainbow Dash put it. It was not a good sign.
Preston made the rounds, as was expected, making sure food was distributed fairly. He’d even dropped off an extra cup of soup personally to Derpy and The Doctor. He’d also, surprisingly, had words with Rumble, who had taken his capture a little too seriously. Preston had been forced to restrain him temporarily, until the tantrum eased.
Preston had kept his own meal quick and easy, eating his entree first. He placed the other components of the meal in his armor compartments, and ate casually as he did rounds, checking on the foals, and even making a visit to the infirmary.
Pensword sighed as he leaned back in the interrogation room, using a technique he’d developed in the field to catch a quick power nap, before the bells to start the afternoon attacks sounded. He closed his eyes for what seemed like moments, then came to with Pip shaking him awake. He grinned, and thanked Pip with a silent pat on the head, before he moved towards Rumble. After a thorough check of the rules, he had discovered that interrogation was allowed, provided it remained humane. To ensure that remained the case, a dice rolling system had been conceived, based on a recommendation from Big Mac. The higher the roll, the easier it was to get information. The lower the roll, the more easily the prisoner could hold on to what they had, and potentially even weasel something out of his or her captors. It was a risk, but one Pensword was willing to take.
“Why?” was all he began with. A magic pedestal with a circle of plain wood tiles and a purple marble diamond embedded in its center suddenly sprung to life as the stone glowed, projecting a gigantic 20-sided die. The white background tiles pulsed with energy as the runic circuitry within them helped to channel and distribute the magic in such a way as to not overload the system.
The die began to spin faster and faster in the air, to the point where it was practically unseeable. Then it stopped, and disappeared to reveal the number two. Pensword winced, and Rumble smirked.
“The force is weak with you, Commander Pensword. Or should I call you Matthew?”
Pensword’s posture changed. “I was more of a Trekkie than a Star Wars fan,” Matthew muttered. “But I will ask again. Why did you go this way? Do you not know the eventual fate of the one whom you are modeling this hero character on?”
The dice rolled, and the projection of the number fourteen appeared this time. Rumble shrugged at the sight. “I suppose I could give you that much. Big brother was sick, so I had to stand in. I’ve done it before.”
“Family, huh? I guess that I cannot fault you for that, then,” he sighed. “But what I want to know now is, why were you captured? I doubt Grif would have allowed it, unless he felt you outlived your usefulness. So what are you planning? Why do you wish to be here?”
Rumble chuckled as the dice display pulled up a seven. “Maybe I just missed talking to my friends,” he said mockingly.
“This die system…” Pensword growled. “Matthew, your luck is showing again in dice.” He grumbled several angry phrases that were most definitely not suitable for polite conversation. “Okay, Rumble. I would like to start a little simpler now. What is the name of your hero?”
Meanwhile, in the reserve room, the small slips of paper Preston had dropped glowed, and pulled slowly together, uncrumpling and unraveling as they repaired the tears. All signs of damage faded off the fragments, and the newly repaired sheets of paper now displayed their own runic designs. All were identical, and all activated at the same time, glowing a sickly green color as an outer row of notches began to blink rapidly, one after the other, until the entire ring blinked. Then one of the notches vanished, and the process started again.
Back in the interrogation chamber, Rumble leaned back in his chair, and smacked his hind hooves onto the desk with a loud clop. The dice had rolled thirteen. “Star Killer,” he said simply. “Pretty apt, considering how many of your heroes I took out, before you could catch me.”
“True, but now it is we who shall be holding you. We have given it just as good as you gave us. I know you have something planned. And–” he stood up and leaned forward “–you Will tell me what you know,” he said as he shoved himself in Rumble’s face, and narrowed his gaze. “I will know what it is you know, because this was too easy. You were too easy to catch.”
Meanwhile, back in the cells, Preston entered without a second glance. He reached out casually with his magic, and the guards slumped to sleep, unprepared to resist the spell. The Changeling gathered them up carefully, and placed them where they would not be harmed. Then he moved to the center of the room, and activated his horn. Magic tendrils jumped from his horn to the scratches on the floor. It flooded the trenches, moving in careful, precise patterns of deeper scratches left in an oh-so-carefully concealed design. The prisoners inside moved to the center of the cell as the runes spread, and came to life around them. Their bodies glowed a whitish blue, before they dissolved into bright blue light, and entered into the rune paths. Then the runes in each cell pulled out through the bars and fused together under Preston.
Rumble looked somewhat uneasily at the 15. “You won’t succeed, you know. Your rebel forces aren’t all united to your cause,” he said somewhat smugly. “Who knows? Perhaps someone is listening in right now, sending back a live feed to the emperor, even as we speak. Isn’t that a pleasant thought?”
“I find that hard to believe. We removed anything that could even be used for a later powerup for….” He paused as his eyes widened. “It’s a trap,” he gasped. He turned, and bellowed as he galloped out of the chamber. “PIP!” he roared. They had only a minute before the bells would blow, but that was all the enemy would need. “PIP! Emergency sweep. It’s a trap! We’ve still got a mole. General Quarters! General Quarters muster!” he cried, ringing through the base, and startling many a foal from their lunch.
As The Doctor and Derpy slept pleasantly outside the cell, Lighting Dust, Camo, and Espio all laughed as a runic symbol began to glow under their manes, thanks to the timed energy release spell Preston had set during lunch. Their bodies dissolved into blue-white energy, and the runes now floating in the air moved through the cell doors, down the halls, and towards the cell rooms.
Meanwhile, back in the interrogation room, Rumble smiled as his own rune began to glow. He slammed a dagger into the table, and smirked at the inscription: You just got played. Better Luck Next Time. “See ya later, Pensword. Good luck stopping this prison break.” Then his own body dissolved, and the rune moved through the door and down the hall to join the rest.
When Preston identified the last piece had joined, he finished the spell, and allowed his own form to be absorbed into the rune. The design spun faster and faster on the floor. Then, in a bright flash, as the bell rang in the background, it vanished, leaving the room empty, save for a few sleeping guards and a large melted circle in the floor.
At that moment the last of the notches on the runes in the reserve room burned out, and the papers consumed themselves in green fire, sending a massive wave of heat through the room. The ice held fast, but the snowballs weren’t so lucky.
In the back of the imperial base, a similar rune formula began glowing brightly with the same blue-white light. It covered the entire room quickly, all the stored magical energy being unloaded in quick rapid bursts as three heroes, one spy, several dozen troops, and one foal where ejected from it.
“My emperor,” Preston said, greeting Grif with a bow as he entered the room. “It is my pleasure to report total mission success.”
“Very good, my grand inquisitor. Very good.” Grif chuckled darkly as the troops filed out to supplement the people on defense. He returned to his command room and his chessboard. He’d lost several pieces that day, but, with great satisfaction, he knocked the white rook over.
The alarms in the Rebel base blared, and all took stock as foals were woken up. They soon discovered the havoc the spell had wreaked on their stockpiles, leaving little more than puddles of ice water. For the rest of that day, Pensword had a very dark scowl on his muzzle. Despite all that, he was careful to maintain control. Angry outbursts would do nothing to repair the damage that had been done. He put more guards out into the three control points facing Grif to help bolster their defenses: rebuilding their snowball reserves and strengthening the walls. A final headcount revealed Preston was nowhere to be seen. Then it clicked.
Pensword let out a loud stream of words in something that was neither Draconic, Equestrian, nor anything found on Equis: a mixture of Japanese with some German mixed with two Chinese words. What could be deciphered by his calm mind later was one phrase:
“May you live in interesting times and see long enough to find all your plans turned to ash and ruin. May all you have built fall upon your head either tonight or next year.”
He then spoke one word against himself. “Baka.” He retreated to his own room, and spoke again, this time louder. “Dummkopf.” He smacked his head against the ice wall. “How could I have been blind? I trusted Preston, and he.…” he unfolded his wings and pressed them against the wall. With his initial anger spent, a cold fury was replacing it. Grif had used his friends against him, he had gotten to turn his own aide de camp against him. Grif would feel his wrath on the morrow. And worst of all, he had been complacent enough to allow it.
An hour later, he exited his room. The foals looked on him and immediately moved aside. Many shuddered at the intense gaze. Pensword looked down at them all. “Tomorrow, revenge will be served to the Empire for doing this,” he said quietly, “for tearing those we trusted from us and twisting them. It is clear to me now that Grif wants me to treat this seriously. As such, we will have one hour extra set aside tonight, during which I will train you as fully as I can. Rest assured, I will make sure that the army of Sun Tzu comes calling tomorrow.”
Twilight walked over to Hammer Strike and smiled at the small piece of spring in the midst of winter the lord had created, simply by lying on a lawn chair with Rarity at his side. She was drinking from a half coconut shell drink with the little paper umbrella and a loopy straw.
“What do you think of the battle so far, Hammer Strike?” Twilight asked as she looked back. She winced as she heard Pensword’s stream of swearing.
“It’s certainly entertaining, I’ll give them that,” he replied simply.
“Really? According to my calculations, Grif will be taking the lead on points awarded for tactics. Assuming Pensword operates on an all-or-nothing strategy, it’s highly likely Grif and his forces will overwhelm them, especially since his forces are at their full strength now. The rebels will be lucky, if they manage to maintain even half their ground.”
“We’ll see how things go when they happen, eh? Predicting a battle isn’t something that can normally be done, especially off the data we have now. Variables change all the time in a mere second.”
“But they’re fully grown adults trained in full battle against foals! It would take a tactical genius to even attempt overthrowing them. Even then, the foals would have to inspired. Moral’s at an all time low after Grif’s prison break. They’re literally hanging by a strand.”
“There are other variables that can never be accounted for, Twilight. What about individual error, luck, atmospheric anomalies, and an overall scope of everyone’s mindset out there?”
“I suppose,” she mused. “But if you’re so confident, how about we set a little mage’s wager? I believe Grif will claim the victory. If Grif wins, you’ll have to let me have the next– and only the next –chapter in the Thaumaturgy book. I’m not insane, after all.”
Hammer Strike took a sip of a tropical beverage courtesy of Berry Punch. “You’ve been training with Clover in battle magic, correct?”
“Yes,” Twilight replied. “I’m still nowhere close to her level, though.”
“Then how about this? If he loses, you’ll spend a day training like I trained Celestia and Luna,” Hammer Strike replied as his casual smile widened to a sinister grin.
Twilight heard rumors, and her mind said it would be bad to accept. Every instinct screamed at her to back down. She may well have been an Alicorn, but was she really at the same level as Celestia and Luna? And yet, if she were to back down, it would show a lack of nerve, a lack of spine, and an unwillingness to take risks. Another minute or so of indecision finally broke with her answer. She shoved a hoof out, and nodded decisively. “It’s a deal.”
Hammer Strike’s grin never left his face as he shook her hoof.
“We’ll see who wins tomorrow, then. If you’ll excuse me, the day will end in another–” she looked at the sky “–hour. We’ll need to start wrapping up point compilation. See you at tonight's party?”
“Certainly.”
Rarity waited till Twilight was out of hearing range. “So … you’ll at least give her a couple of days to prepare, right?” she replied idly as she sat up to start polishing Seamripper. “Half the town has a betting pool on her freakouts. They’d be so disappointed to lose the chance to see it”
“I’ll give her an hour, just like Celestia and Luna.”
“Fair enough. That means Spike might win the next pool.”
The panel of judges convened for the second time as the sun hung low over the horizon. After another fifteen minutes of discussion and intense debate, they came back with the daily totals. The Rebels earned the higher of the points that day at 1075, thanks to the multiplier they’d managed to achieve in seizing the control points on the field. This, combined with the number of soldiers they had been able to peg off Grif’s ramparts gave them a much needed boost, launching them forward to a whopping total of 1936 points. Unfortunately, the loss of their prisoners cut heavily into the bonus they had been hoping to achieve, but at least they were still afloat.
Thanks to incredible ingenuity and cold strategy in the face of hardship, the Empire pulled out with a total of 554 points. When added to the previous day’s totals, they landed at a comfortable 1568. The two teams differed by roughly 300 points. Day three would truly be the battle of the year. Honor, glory, vengeance. All were on the line, and both teams knew it. Grif gritted his teeth a little at the loss of their lead, but he accepted it. His troops had worked hard, and they’d accomplished nothing short of a miracle that day.
While the Empire left the field for a well-deserved rest, Pensword and the foals were busy gathering in one of the fields outside the main combat zone. The commander stood on a small platform as the foals lined up in proper rank and file, according to their leader’s instructions. He looked over them as he nodded to one of his sons, who banged an order on the drums. Some of the foals turned smartly to the right, some swung to the left, and some simply stood there in utter confusion.
Pensword sighed. As he had suspected, the children still had a ways to go. “Right. We have some learning to do, kids. When you hear that particular beat on the drum, you will turn to face your right. When you hear this one–.” He signaled to the young thestral, who grinned as he played another drumbeat. “–You turn left.” He nodded again. With each new pattern, he correlated the proper instruction. Discipline and unity would play a large role in tomorrow’s battle. He had to make sure the foals would be able to act on instructions at the drop of a hat, or the beat of a drum in this case.
After a good fifteen minutes had passed, Pensword nodded his head in approval. “Good. Now that you have the basics down, let’s take this from the beginning.” The rest of the time was taken up committing the commands to memory, and responding to them effectively.
As his men went to rest and enjoy their evening, Grif looked over the map. Tomorrow was the last chance. It was win or lose with no in-between. If the empire was going to pull out any chance of victory, he was going to have to go on a major offensive. Fortunately, he now possessed the numbers to do so. He also had three more hero units allowed for the final day. His cloud shapers had come to him with some interesting potential strategies that, while they pushed the boundaries, still resided in the rules of the game. One thing Grif was certain of: the next day’s coming battle would prove to be the most intense of the three days. He’d seen the look in Pensword’s eye. It seemed he was finally stepping up to the plate, and it was time for the Gryphon to respond in kind.
“One day more.” He chuckled to himself as Les Miserables played through his head. Whatever happened tomorrow would be the end of the organized battle for another year. The fourth day would simply be for fun. Nevertheless, Grif dreaded the day Moon River could join in, or even his own daughters. As he picked through the concept designs his troops had put out, one stood out to him most, and he laughed. ‘Oh, yes. That will do nicely,’ he thought to himself.
Pensword and the foals entered the village, making their way towards the Punch Bowl as they marched in unison. The grim looks on their faces made it almost feel like Unity’s militia were marching through the streets, rather than a band of children. Pensword was certain the show would resonate with at least a few of the Pegasus citizens in the town. Hopefully, Ponyville would get their own militia in the coming bill. A series of toy drums rolled together as Pegasus foals took to the air, while Unicorn foals that could use magic lit their horns. Even though Pensword was at the head of the column, and thus unable to enjoy the show, he could picture it, and that image alone sent a shudder of pleasure through him from head to tail.
They reached the doors, and the drums sounded again as lines peeled off and entered single file into the tavern. It seemed that even though they were off the field, they had yet to leave it mentally. This time, the foals didn’t boast. They didn’t talk. They remained somber as they ate in silence, their minds cast over their stations and the coming morrow with one order echoing through their minds: hold the line, and capture as many enemies as possible. They would change as needed, according to Pensword’s orders. The numbers were there, but they would need to cut off some of Grif’s troops before the commander’s plan could be put into effect. They would wait till lunch. After that, well … they would have to see. For now, it was time for dinner.
Gilda had been looking out the window, and found herself shivering at the display she just saw. “Grif!” she squawked.
All was quiet as the third day dawned. A cold wind whipped at the snow, causing the occasional flurry to dance across the drifts and sparkle in the sun. Foals peaked out from their places in the command points and the rebel fort itself, while Grif’s troops waited patiently within their fortress for the signal to commence the battle. Hot chocolate venders and confectionery chefs were busy distributing warm refreshment to the host of Ponies as they awaited the final round that would decide the conflict once and for all. Would the Empire reign supreme, or would the Rebels find the way to the ultimate victory and the sweet freedom of bragging rights that would follow? Only time would tell.
Clover, Vinyl, and Twilight sat at their table in a magically protected pavilion, where a series of viewing crystals had been embedded to give them miniature projections with status updates on the game’s progress. Referees stood on sight at the borders of the field, ready to intercede, should either side break the rules to try to win.
At last, Vital Spark strolled out into the middle of the field, and looked to each side. “Are the competitors ready?” he called.
“Ready,” Grif confirmed from his end.
Pensword kept his eyes on Grif as he nodded his head. “Bring it.”
“Then let the furies of Winter ride, and the battle rage once more!” Vital launched a brilliant ball of light into the skies, and hastily retreated as it burst apart, dropping sparks to the ground as the winds began to pick up, and the skies began to darken with snow-laden clouds.
Pensword did not react outwardly as he returned to the fort, and rallied the defense. But the clouds were far too ominous to be ignored. This was not in the forecast. All the same, Pensword struggled to keep the smile off his face as Matthew struggled to the surface. He loved these kinds of surprises in strategy.
“Advance!” Grif called as he flew over his troops and back to the fort.
“Roger roger,” one Changeling acknowledged as columns began exiting the bases and swarming the control points in a trident attack. Meanwhile, the clouds in the area were being gathered together and pulled into one mass.
The foals were gathering their own clouds over their base, and the Changelings found that, while they were knocked down with snowballs, it was far easier to push forward than they had initially anticipated. At the same time, they were still being hit from all sides, and the clouds obscured the foals, making a prediction of their attacks nigh-impossible. Eventually, they reached the central control point, which they soon discovered was heavily fortified. A veritable hailstorm of snowballs were launched, taking out the entire front column.
But much to the Rebels’ dismay, the clouds began to pull away from their control. Puff by puff, the Pegasus foals found their own magic overridden as Grif raised his talons and held the clouds before him. Controlled and carefully aimed gale force winds took the clouds by force, absorbing them into the whole.
This still only drove the foals to the trees as they held their ground. With no more prisoners to watch, the foals were free to challenge at the front lines, making for a much stronger resistance against the onslaught. All the same, Pensword could still see the clouds. He knew Grif had something planned.
He wasn’t wrong.
An hour before lunch break, Grif raised his splayed talons, and swept his hands over the battlefield. The large black spherical cloud began to unleashed a focused torrent of snow-laden wind over the control points. The snowflakes clumped together in the air, forming snowballs as they fell. This artificial snowball blizzard was contained, and frighteningly, it was concentrated. In a great mastery of the winds, Grif was able to rain attacks on their enemies without backlash. The snowballs couldn’t count as a hit by the rules, but they still required cover to dodge. The foals weren’t equipped to handle that kind of attack. The Changelings, however, walked through the weather like it was nothing, their wings hidden beneath their carapaces to leaving them completely unharmed as snow rolled off their armor.
The foals had no choice but to give up the middle control point. However, this led to overconfidence on the part of the troops, leaving them wide open for the counterattacks at the fallback positions the foals had prepared. The Empire broke through two fallback lines before they solidified again, and they were at another standstill in the fight. It was here that Preston approached to give his new report to the emperor. “Half of the droids you sent out have been eliminated by the rebels, Sir.”
“So less than a quarter of our droids.” Grif smiled. “General, why don’t you show them the rest?”
“Of course, Emperor,” Preston said as he left Grif’s side. Moments later, seven more columns filtered out from the imperial base. Preston led them, wearing a cape and a white face mask with large fins at the side. A column went to secure the central point as the other six split themselves between the other control points, the sound of their marching echoing across the battlefield. They didn’t charge. They didn’t need to.”
The Foals did their best to hold, but they had little choice save to fall back under the onslaught. The few Unicorns that could pulled unconscious foals with them in their retreat. The swarm tore through the control points to reach a full network of trenches and dugouts reaching from one end of the field to the other. However, their approach was not to last for much longer. The foals were still able to fight, and here the Changelings saw and felt the power of the snow cannons that Pinkie had provided. With the onslaught from the storm, they troops were ground-bound, which left them open to the fire at every other turn in the trenches as the sentry cannons burst one after another. Preston avoided getting buried by a hair’s breadth. Other foals jumped out of holes in the walls, flinging snowballs at a rate of one throw per second. It was a slaughter, and since the storm didn’t count towards points, the Rebels were racking in the points.
Grif looked coldly at the gate and nodded. As he did, a full column of Earth Ponies backed by Unicorns filed from the gate towards the trenches. Ping stood there at the front wearing a solid black robe. Her face had been covered in red-and-black face paint.
While the CMC had been present in the base, they had not been fielded. That wasn’t the case anymore. All three showed up at the three different mini-bases using their own special weapons given by Hammer Strike, with Button Mash as Han Solo using a slingshot with snowballs to act like a blaster. Their progress was hard and fast, granting a brief reprieve on the southern side of the field, even going so far as to begin pressing the forces back into one of the abandoned trenches. Then Nanami showed up with more reinforcements. The fight lasted ten minutes long before the bells and whistles blew. Lunchtime was upon them.
Grif sat at the bar counter looking into his glass of raspberry juice. “How did we lose? How did they pull it off in three hours?” he asked the glass, as if expecting an answer.
Lighting Dust shook her mane. “They had to have cheated. I mean, why would Pensword wait for the final three hours to even join the battlefield? It doesn’t make any sense!” she ranted as she slammed her mug onto the counter.
Gilda was silent. “Sir, what did happen? How did he manage to get the foals to fly in that formation?”
“It seems like he snuck in some training sessions later last night, when we'd thought they were asleep." Grif chuckled as he took a drink. “That’s Pensword for you. Now do you see why I cautioned against underestimating him?”
Gilda nodded slowly as she took a second glass of raspberry juice from Berry Punch. “I honestly thought you would win. We are Gryphons, after all.” She shrugged, then chuckled. “Guess that’ll teach me to underestimate Ponies. I can see why he was so dangerous to the Empire back in the day.” She took a sip of her drink. “The whole thing’s still pretty hard to swallow, though. I mean, we literally had every advantage. We even had control of the field, including the security points. I was sure that point bonus would put us over the top.”
“Taze once told me the reason he started this was because there is nothing in the world that could simulate the hell of war accurately, but foals in a snowball fight get pretty close. They see, they learn, they think, and worst of all, we brush that aside as nothing to be considered. If we didn’t have these rules, I can only imagine how long it would be before we’d have to deal with ice or rocks in the snowballs, just to slow us down.” He smirked, then chuckled ruefully. “We lost, because they lost last time, so they worked harder not to lose now. I suppose it’s the simplest way to look at it.”
“So, they’d really go that far, huh?” Gilda chuckled as a smile pulled at her own beak. “That seems more like Gryphon tactics than foal. Maybe those little furballs aren’t so lame after all.”
“Foal’s blood is hotter than ours sometimes. The fire of competition, the need to win. Not all parents teach their children the same morals, and not all Ponies have a good nature. You talk about our chicks and our race like we’re superior, because of our blood, but I know for a fact that half a dozen chicks came home with bloodied beaks because they picked fights with the wrong foals.”
“Let me guess,” Lightning Dust said after letting loose a belch. It would seem her drink was just a tad harder than the rest. “Pegasus and Thestral foals?”
“Actually from what my sources tell me, two Unicorns and an Earth Pony.” Grif laughed when he saw Lightning’s disbelieving face.
Lighting slammed her empty mug down, but said no more as she put her forehead on the counter, and shook her head. Clearly, she was done putting her hoof into her mouth.
“Is that really so surprising, Lighting? Your race has lighter bone structure. I mean, you developed resilience to permanent damage and whatnot, but, as a foal, a pegasus isn’t really that formidable,” Grif noted as he patted the soldier consolingly on her back.
“Who would have thought?” Lightning finally murmured. “I should’ve stayed with Pensword,” she moaned.
“Wasn’t a choice.” Grif shrugged as he polished off his glass. “He gave me a list of the adults who were to work with him. You weren’t on it. Besides, you enjoyed yourself. You know you did,” he teased.
Lightning continued to grumble into the counter as the rest of the troops laughed. “Yeah, but I thought we would win.” She sighed heavily, then turned her head to face the fabric divider. “I wonder how they’re celebrating.”
“Gilda, what did the archer Gil’lean say about learning how to hit?” Grif asked suddenly.
“You have to learn how to miss,” Gilda replied.
“Learn how to miss? How’s that supposed to help?” Lightning fumed.
“Death is part of the warrior's life,” Grif said. “When one lifts his or her weapon to an opponent in any battle, they must accept that losing is a very real possibility. To fight is to bring about a death; either yours or your opponents. To truly win in battle, you first need to make peace with your own defeat, a sentiment Hurricane himself wrote about.”
“I hate even thinking about defeat.” She turned her head, and closed her eyes. “I’m never going to hear the end of this, am I?” she groaned.
Grif shrugged. “Then you will never truly taste victory. Go into weather management, Lighting Dust. If you cannot see this truth, the military is beyond you.”
Lighting Dust growled, but said nothing else as she glared defiantly at him.
Grif chuckled at the sight. “We’ll make something out of you yet,” he whispered, before signaling Berry for another glass.
Meanwhile, the foals on the other side of the divider were enjoying themselves, celebrating their victory in true foalish style. Fruit juice flowed liberally from the pitchers as various servers assisted with the meal. The children continued to carouse, laughing, chatting, bragging, and recounting the many daring exploits that would surely grant them fame and notoriety throughout the town. Aside from that, though, they were just enjoying a final conclusion after a tiring three days. Already, some few foals had begun to yawn, and they still had the free-for-all to worry about tomorrow.
Pensword smiled warmly at them, while favoring his left hoof. Unfortunately, he’d hurt it during the last hour of the game, but that wasn’t about to dampen his spirits, after all he and his little troops had accomplished together. At this rate, soon Thestrals would have another door open to bring them into the mainstream of Equestria as they entered into sporting events and other competitions. If he knew children, and he knew children quite well, this competition would likely spread across the kingdom, once the military had been reestablished. He flipped a page casually to begin the next chapter of his book. The Art of War stood boldly on the cover in gold embossed letters. Fortunately, nopony in Ponyville knew how to read English yet, with perhaps the one exception of Twilight. He sighed as he watched a familiar stallion approach him out of the corner of his eye, then rolled his eyes in resignation. “Yes, Hard Hat? What is it?”
Much to Pensword’s surprise, Snails was actually pushing his father forward, causing the Earth Pony’s hooves to scrape against the hardwood floors.
“Yes, yes,” Hard Hat grumbled. He looked to Pensword, and rubbed his green mane as he cleared his throat. Finally, he brought himself to stare the commander in the eye. “Let’s just get this over with. Thank you for helping my boy to win. It made him feel special, and I’m proud he had the chance to shine. There. I said it.” With that done, he turned promptly, and made a beeline for the half of the bar on the foal side of the room.
Pensword blinked in surprise, before looking back at the book. “Well, today is full of surprises,” he muttered as he looked up when something was slammed down on his table. “Oh, hi, Dinky, Scootaloo, Pip, Button Mash, Sweetie Belle, Applebloom.” His skilled eyes soon fell on the new accessories Pip and Button wore proudly on their chests. “Oh dear,” he muttered. “I guess the Cutie Mark Crusaders just got some new members?”
“Yep!” Scootaloo replied, not noticing the blushes on the other two fillies. “And we know what we want to try for our cutie marks tomorrow: Snipers.”
“You do realize that tomorrow is the free-for-all, right?” Pensword asked.
“Yes, but we can have informal treaties for not attacking, and you know the foals and the adults will create pacts, so they don't have to watch their backs all the time,” Dinky responded.
“It will just be better if I nod and agree, and help you try to get a cutie mark tomorrow, won’t it?” he asked resignedly.
“Yup,” Sweetie Belle agreed with her usual smile, when a shadowy figure suddenly jumped down from the rafters. The foals jumped in surprise, and a couple screamed briefly, before they realized just who that shadowy figure was. Lunar Fang kissed her husband on the cheek, and whispered in his ear.
Pensword smiled goofily. “I love you, too, dear,” he whispered, before looking at the CMC. “Why not? It’ll be fun to teach the next generation. We can bring the boys along, too, if they want.” The sudden use of a contraction prompted Lunar Fang to kiss him on the cheek yet again.
“Now that we've had time to celebrate victory or drown defeat, can we please take this divider down, so I can get my place back to normal?” Berry’s voice rang over both sides from where she stood perfectly divided by said curtain. Unanimous cheers arose, mingled with laughter as Rainbow Dash, Rarity, and Twilight worked to bring the divider down. Truly, the division had come to an end, and Rumble raced happily to join his friends on the other side as troops and citizens mingled to discuss the games, and perhaps to find a bit of romance.
The rest of the night would go smoothly as every Pony and Gryphon reveled in the after party. Pensword decided to call it an early night to get some proper sleep. Thankfully he had been able to rent a room above the tavern. A couple of hours later, the party tapered off as foals and parents slowly slipped off for bed, so they could enjoy the next day’s free-for-all.
Twilight walked somewhat sheepishly towards Hammer Strike. “Do I have enough time to make preparations, or did you want to start right away?”
“If you want to keep the experience as close to authentic as possible, you have an hour from now.”
Twilight nodded, and blinked away in a flash of teleportation. She reappeared a half hour later, dressed in light armor embedded with environmental runes to help keep her temperature regulated. Her focus hovered in her magic as she nodded to Hammer Strike. “I’m ready,” she said confidently. “At least I hope,” she muttered to herself.
“Trust me, you aren’t,” Hammer Strike replied with a small smile. “If you knew what was in store, you wouldn’t have made that bet.”
Twilight just looked at Hammer Strike, and shrugged. “You were planning it anyway. Might as well get this over with quickly.”
Hammer Strike chuckled. “Oh, this’ll be anything but quick.”
Pensword sat at his desk working on a set of rather important documents. Taking a page out of Spitfire’s rule book, he worked feverishly, either stamping his hoof on or signing various photos of himself wearing all his medals. Three of these copies were to be donated to museums or historical societies, and two to be given to young foals, so they could win a bet. The rest were to be filed away to be presented to nations of his choosing on Earth the next time he and the others could visit the world. He also took advantage of the spare time to record updates in his files for the family back on Earth, with photos, accounts, and rough drafts for his autobiography. Some things were still a bit too painful to discuss out loud, so letting them read about it would allow them to understand better. One thing that Matthew and Pensword both agreed on was that family was very, very important. And that brought Pensword to his newest surprise. Fox Feather was going to be a mother as well. That just left Little Willow. He chuckled, and shook his head. He wouldn’t be surprised if she and Big Mac were ready to have a baby in the next few months. “The things time travel will do to a mare’s biology,” he muttered. He paused to look up as the handle to his office door turned.
Preston entered with a Gryphon Pensword had never seen in his life standing behind. The Changeling looked to Pensword, then back to the Gryphon. “Uh, according to this fellow here, he has something meant for your eyes only.”
Pensword nodded. “You may go, Preston. Thank you.” As the Changeling made his way out the door, Pensword waited patiently as he leaned back in his chair, and placed his hooves together.
“The clan leader requested you get this immediately, and then find him at the Gantrithor as soon as you have read it,” the Gryphon said as he thrust a scroll onto Pensword’s table. “He only just decoded it.”
“What is it this time?” Pensword groaned. He gave a tired, albeit wary look the Gryphon’s way. “My apologies, but I’m afraid I will have to ask you to wait outside.”
The messenger nodded his understanding, and made his way out the door. When Pensword was certain he was alone, he broke the seal, and began to read.
Dear commander,
It has come to our attention that one of our nobility has heard much about New Unity and your personal efforts towards such. He has also spoken of great admiration for your actions during the coup, and, as such, requested that we allow him to travel to New Unity in order to join your cause.
Naturally, it is a request we refused, though not lightly. Surely, you can understand that we cannot simply allow one of our court to up and leave. Unfortunately, the noble in question has recently vanished, along with his airship, which he had claimed to be stocking to send a gift to Clanleader Grif. Nearly his entire fortune and more than a score of his personal Gryphon-at-arms have likewise vanished.
We beg you, Commander. Should a Gryphon bearing the name Lafayette show up at your door requesting to join you, send him back to us post haste.
Yours in friendship, His Holiness, Emperor Daedalus.
Pensword gaped at the letter’s contents. Matthew performed multiple double takes within their joined consciousness as he looked over the name. The silence was more than a little worrisome for Pensword. That is, until what can only be described as a high-pitched, excited squee filled Pensword’s consciousness, causing the Pony to wince as he tried to adjust to the sound only he could hear. He allowed himself an indulgent smile as he rolled the scroll back up, and tucked it under his wing. Then he made his way out the door and into the receptionist’s room, where Preston was busy at work, while the messenger from earlier waited patiently in a chair. He gave a curt nod towards the warrior, and motioned towards the door. No other words needed to be exchanged as the pair began their trek to the Gantrithor, or as Pensword still insisted on calling it, the Giant. Matthew continued to gush over the history of the name on Earth, and how he couldn’t wait to see what this Equestrian incarnation would be like. Something about history repeating itself, but he couldn’t make it out with how quickly Matthew’s thoughts were flitting past. He finally had to smack Matthew with a mental newspaper to get him to calm down enough for them to think properly. After all, they were about to enter the Gantrithor, and they needed to have their wits about them.
Upon reaching the bridge, he found Grif at one of the speakers.
“Gantrithor la grêle c'est réjouissance pour demander la permission d'accoster,” a voice crackled through the speaker.
“Veuillez tenir sur la fête, nous avons besoin d'un moment pour préparer plus de,” Grif responded through the microphone as he looked to Pensword.
“So, I take it the messenger found you?” Grif asked he looked to the commander with tired eyes. “You receive word about a Gryphon noble possibly coming in, and I have a Gryphon airship trying to land. Coincidence?” he asked, already knowing the answer.
“I think not! Do you happen to know the noble’s name?” he asked excitedly. Clearly, this was Matthew. “Also, please teach me French. If he is going to learn our language like our original friend learned English in a year, I should try to learn his tongue as well. And, oh man … do you–?” He giggled almost uncontrollably. “This is going to be fun.”
“I was hoping you wouldn’t find out about Marie-Joseph Paul Yves Roch Gilbert du Motier, Marquis de Lafayette,” Grif sighed. “He’s a noble from the western lower kingdom, the last scion of a noble family eleven generations old. His family once ruled more property than the king; however, they’ve been liquidating their considerable assets for over a generation. They now own only a small villa near the coast. However, they have had a traditional spot at court for the last three emperors. The marquis is young, brash, and some would say a little screwy, but he’s known for humility and a great sense of purpose.” Grif put a taloned hand to his forehead, and shook his head. “Matthew must be squealing like a schoolgirl right now.”
Pensword simply responded by unleashing a high pitched squeal that only one being had ever made before in the Gryphon’s experience. If there was any doubt before, as to who was behind the wheel, they were thoroughly crushed. “And he wants to see Unity! I can hardly believe it.” He danced on all four hooves, which was incredibly uncharacteristic of the military leader, but a perfect fit for the historian that Matthew was.
“I take it you want me to give them the go-ahead to dock?” Grif asked.
The Pegasus nodded vigorously. “This is so incredible! I hope he likes New Unity. And, oh, Grif, I am so not returning him to the Gryphon Empire. No way.”
Grif sighed as he leaned into the microphone. “Cette Revelry, est Gantrithor. Clair pour votre dock. Venir à nice et lent.” He turned to Pensword as he cut off the connection. “Come on. Let’s get on the dock to meet them.”
Pensword grinned as the pair stood on the docking platform together. He was thankful that Shawn had designed it so that it could hold multiple ships at once. He’d have to remember to thank him later for the foresight. They watched as the ship glided into the open berth. Two large smokestacks towered out from the middle of the ship, belching black coal smoke, most likely to run things not attached to the storm stone core. The vessel had been painted a pristine white with gold trimming where the hull met the decking. A second tier the size of a good half the ship was divided into four equal parts with two long-barreled turrets stacked up in the front and the back. The sides rose to create what essentially was a citadel loaded with what had to be a veritable cornucopia of anti-flying weapons. The bridge stood above the second tier. While Matthew wasn’t able to judge the dimensions of the area too well, Pensword could say with some certainty that Layfette’s ship was just as large, plus half a length over the ship that had ferried them to the Gryphon Empire.
The bow of the Revelry had a large saker falcon figurehead all leafed in gold with gems for eyes and talons as its wings spread out to the place where the anchor chains would be. It was highly probable that the feathers could function as mooring lines. Two tall masts stood above the bridge, and had been painted a bright blue, rather than white. The combined flags of the southern kingdom, Gryphonia itself, and Lafayette’s personal crest waved in the winds generated by the ship as it slowly descended. Said crest stood boldly on a white flag with the same blue as the bridge. A falcon had been sewn into the material, holding a sword in its right talon. A book was held firmly in its mouth, while a heavy shield was clutched in its left talon. Beneath these flags, the banner of Pensword’s command waved brilliantly as its white stars shone amongst the blue background of the fabric.
Another mast on the back of the ship held a series of messenger flags for communication purposes, should the main systems fail. Sailors stood along the decks in fancy pressed uniforms as they readied the ship to dock. The doorways Grif could see were painted with various depictions of events from their country’s history ranging from their original home, battles from the clan’s history, and various religious imagery portraying the four Winds and their children. Gold trimming also surrounded the bridge, with extra glowing stones to help conduct lightning and increase the ship’s visibility as it passed through cloud banks. Pensword looked to see Kahn and the other Demon Slayers from the empire manning the dock to catch the mooring lines and help secure the ship in place. On getting a closer look at the sheer gaudiness of the airship, Pensword couldn’t help but wonder how much money went into maintaining such a thing.
“Perhaps Hammer Strike might like to have something like this. It would certainly be a good way to use up his funds,” he mused.
The doors slid open smoothly, and a long red carpeted gangplank was lowered with care. Several Gryphons in tinted blue armor marked by a white fleur de lis on each pauldron filed down in two perfect lines. Each drew his weapon, be it saber, rapier, axe, or otherwise, and held it in a salute to Pensword as they passed him to form a full column. When they were all in formation, they produced small polished brass trumpets, and sounded them as one. Another figure appeared, and moved slowly down the plank. He was surprisingly small for a Gryphon, even being on an eye level with Pensword. His head was that of a saker falcon with a smoothed-down crest, deep-set eyes, and a black curved beak. His feathers were a whitish grey with brown and black blotches here and there. The coloring seemed to melt into his white-and-black fur. His body was that of a genet, something smaller, but showing the right muscle for swiftness and maneuverability. Rather than armor, or even dress armor, he wore a simple blue dress uniform made from what seemed to be sturdy, yet fine material. A white sash covered his middle, and silver epaulets shone brightly on his shoulders. A deadly-looking saber with a curved guard hung close to his side. Unlike the tufted tails most Gryphons had, Lafayette’s tail was bushy, and completely covered in fluffy white-and-black-ringed fur.
“Ah, Mon commander! How long I have wished to meet the stallion who saved the emperor and spread the word of New Unity.” His accent was thick, and he pronounced Unity with a “teh,” revealing just how very Phrench he was. Then, in a very forward action, he walked up to Pensword, and hugged him.
Pensword was shocked, but Matthew was elated. Thus far, Lafayette was staying true to form. At the human half of his consciousness’ insistence, he returned the hug, albeit while feeling more than a little confused. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Marquis De Lafayette. Do you have any letters of recommendation you wish to present?”
The Gryphon presented a scroll with Princess Luna’s seal on it. “I only have this, I fear. I am not well liked back home for the sentiments I have shown so openly of late.”
Pensword nodded, and opened the letter, only for his eyes to widen in surprise as he discovered it was addressed to both Himself and Matthew. Luna spoke of how she had noticed certain similarities between the Lafayette she had discussed with Matthew on the dream plane and the one from Gryphonia. Considering the parallels that had been drawn previously from Earth, she figured it was a safe bet to give Lafayette a chance. As such, he and his troops were now under commission. Lafayette was to become a major general immediately, but it was up to Pensword to decide how much Lafayette would be able to invoke such authority.
“I understand that Luna has given you a commission within Equestria’s new military to try and lessen the sting of being stuck in Equestria for the time being. Unfortunately, there is a problem with this. You and I are both commissioned officers in no true military. So, until we can get everypony up to speed, I cannot give you any troops to lead. However, if you wish to teach military tactics to our recruits here, I would not be opposed to that.”
Lafayette nodded his understanding. “I may yet be able to help further the cause of Unity, regardless,” he said humbly as a blush rose beneath his cheeks. “I have made my insistence known to the princess. I will not accept payment for my services, only for my men. They are loyal, and have followed me here, despite what that may mean for them. If you cannot pay them, then I will see to it myself. Please, use us as you see fit, mon commander.”
Pensword nodded his head. “Very well. Your men will be paid on the same day as the rest of our men, which will be in two weeks’ time. Actually,” he looked to his right, “Kahn, see the quartermaster, and get this set up right away. Till then, if they need anything, make sure the Demon Slayers try to help first.” He spread his wings. “I hope that is suitable, Lafayette.”
Kahn saluted, and took wing to get it done, while Lafayette nodded and turned to Grif.
“Ah, Avatar. I have brought you a little something.” Lafayette smiled as he looked to his ship and signaled with a sharp whistle. A larger heron-headed Gryphon emerged bearing a small bottle and three silver goblets. He gave one to Pensword, the second to Grif, and the third to Lafayette himself, then popped the cork open, and poured each of them a small amount of a red liquid. The scent of cinnamon immediately assailed Pensword’s nose.
“This?” Grif’s eyes widened as he leaned in. “This can’t be.” He took a whiff, then a sip, then a gulp. A shiver of pleasure ran through his body. “Kal’levenah! This time of year?”
Pensword raised an eyebrow as he took a sip, expecting something similar to the guarkalah. It was thicker than it looked, and raced into the mouth like chocolate syrup, but the moment it hit his tongue, the spices struck. Cinnamon, peppermint, and chilli pepper rushed one after the other in a whirling medley of flavors. It was robust, but not enough to burn his tongue. When he swallowed, the heat flowed down his throat and throughout his body, removing the chill of the winter air.
“Wha–?” Pensword gasped. “You can bottle both the winter and a summer day?”
“Kal’levenah is a concoction made from several ingredients found within the empire, one of the few cases, if any, where we farm or harvest fruits and spices; however, to make it is tricky. Not all the ingredients are easily purchased. That goblet full alone is probably worth a few thousand beaks,” Grif explained.
“I have brought six barrels for your stores, Lord Bladefeather.” Lafayette grinned as Grif stood stock still, looking at the marquis as though he’d grown a second head. “I’ll take your silence as gratitude enough. My people will have them unloaded, and then your clansmen can move them at your convenience.” The marquis turned to address Pensword, leaving Grif to his bewildered stupor. “Perhaps I may request a tour?”
“Of course, Major General. While you may have a noble rank, a Thestral puts a military rank before any other, save one: husband or wife. If you would kindly follow me, we will begin our tour over here.” The pair walked casually along the dock’s heavy wooden planking as they prepared to take wing, only for the marquis to laugh happily as two darts struck the back of his head. He quickly raised his talons to catch the flailing bundle of blue fur and leathery wings. He plucked off the darts, and presented them to the little foal, before leaning in to whisper in her ears. Moon River giggled, and booped her hoof against his beak, before he found himself carrying the foal along for the trip. Neither seemed to mind.
In the cold crisp of winter, a lot of work could be done. There was still hunting to do, wood to haul, items to craft. However, a great many things also couldn’t be done. Food and flower gardens alike had to be left alone for the next few months, stone quarrying and most mining had to be put on hold, and most long scouting trips had been restricted to those with wings to reduce the possibility of getting lost. It was at this time that Grif decided to handle another matter that had reared it’s ugly head in the Bladefeather compound.
Grif had been liberal about the Bladefeathers’ resources. He didn’t worry if a few sheets of leather or some new buckles went missing, because a Gryphon needed to fix a sword belt or fashion a new pack. These things were easily replaceable, and with the amount the Gryphon clan hunted and the smiths nearby in New Unity, leather and steel could easily be replaced.
No the problem was the clan's own carefully maintained stockpiles of useful harder woods and stronger stones, which, while existent in the surrounding resources, were surprisingly rare. These items were held by the clan strictly for the making and maintaining of defenses, memorials, and important religious necessities. Unfortunately, he’d had to place the stockpile under guard when Gryphons began taking from these materials in order to make additions to their homes. It was not that Grif was against them making these changes and additions, it was that he was against them using clan resources to do it. Despite making it clear they’d need to acquire the materials themselves or actually buy them from the stockpile, Bladefeathers had still taken them, usually waiting until nightfall.
The other side of this issue was favors. Gryphons being Gryphons, even the formerly clanless could get a swelled head at times. When Grif sat down with the administrative council once every couple of weeks to go over necessary matters regarding the clan, he found himself bombarded for three hours with requests ranging from heavily unreasonable to utterly absurd. One Gryphon had requested to turn his house into a watchtower. Said Gryphon lived in the very center of the compound, and would not even be able to see past the walls, unless said tower was over forty stories high. Too utterly unreasonable. One actually demanded a massive library, and Grif wasn’t against that part. The issue was that this Gryphon demanded a compendium with all of Equstria’s knowledge to be included, no matter how secret or rare.
And then there were the public demands to know what special privileges clan members would receive in the developing city state that New Unity was becoming. It was this one that worried Grif, because it was a sign the Bladefeathers were forgetting where they had started, and what this clan was supposed to mean.
It was for this reason that Grif created the Court of Winter. the court was simplistic in itself, resurrecting one of their culture’s older and more visceral styles of living. If a Gryphon came with a request that was uncommon or ridiculous, then they would have to be prepared to support it through trial by combat against a representative of Grif, starting with Thalia. If the request pushed the envelope more, the representative would be higher ranked. If the request got really bizarre or grandiose, Grif himself would face the contender in the arena. The combatants would go to one of the large snow-covered outdoor sparring mats, remove their cloaks, weapons, and armor, and fight with beak and talons, until one party gave or was unconscious. Only killing or permanently maiming an opponent was forbidden.
If the challenger won, then they would either move up the ladder, should their request warrant further scrutiny, or they would have it granted. However, they had to accept that Grif’s representative in the battle held the right to add additional burdens, if they felt it was warranted.
At first, Gryphons had lined up to take their chance, but once the first dozen or so were sent to the infirmary for attempting to fight their opponent with large boulders tied to their back paws, the challenges slowed to a steady, more reasonable pace.
It was because of this practice that Grif found himself watching as Gilda got beaten for the third time that week by Thalia. He found himself musing that, while the Gryphoness had improved in her weapons training, Grif hadn’t really taught her much in regards to talon and beak. It was not entirely a surprise that he hadn’t. Few warriors taught pupils the style, because it was believed to be unrefined and feral, but the old bird had taught him. He still had scars from those lessons. And if Gilda really was going to be a proper representative, perhaps it was time for her to gain a few scars of her own. “Yes,” he mused, “I think it’s about time we stepped your training up a phase, Gilda.”
Vital Spark narrowed his eyes as he stared into the blue mare’s hoof and joint. “Hmm. Interesting,” he mused as he levitated his textbook, and flipped through of a few of the pages.
“What is so interesting?” Trixie asked as her brow furrowed with worry.
“Based on what I’ve seen in the book here, you’re one of the rarest cases out there. You are an individual who had a set destiny that has been rewritten. Your life line was broken right along here,” he said as he pointed to a particular portion of her hoof, “and then it branched off in a new direction. I’m guessing it had something to do with the incident when you were in the dungeons.”
“Is that bad? Is Trixie in danger?” Trixie asked.
“Asks the girl who’s a fortune teller.” Vital laughed as he looked on. “Frankly, I’m still getting used to all this reading magic lines and the like. The way the maps are shown, it reminds me more of chakra than anything else.” He shrugged. “Who knows? Maybe there’s a connection. But as for what I do see in your future, there appears to be a conflict of some sort. Someone dear to you will be threatened, and you will learn a dangerous family secret at or around that time.”
“Trixie doesn’t like the first part of that prediction.”
Vital shrugged again. “For all we know, I could be way off the mark. I’m still learning how to get divination right. It wasn’t exactly a practice that was well liked in the group I grew up with. We preferred revelation and prophecy through prophets and seers. It’s a bit of a different branch.”
“It still worries Trixie.”
“The future worries everyone. What really matters is how you choose to live in the now. We’re the ones who craft the future with our actions. If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that it’s better to trust in yourself and live as best you can, rather than try to stop or undo a possible future. If you do try to stop it, you could easily cause the thing you’re trying to prevent, and often do.”
“Trixie supposes she understands,” Trixie said, before moving forward to hug Vital.
Vital chuckled. “You know, that’s still taking some getting used to.”
“Suck it up, princess.”
Vital Spark laughed. “Someone’s been spending a little too much time around Grif, methinks. C’mere, you.” And then he tackled her to the ground, before starting to tickle her.
“No, stop!” Trixie giggled as she rolled helplessly on the floor.
“Nevar!” Vital teased as he continued his assault with a roguish grin. “I shall make you rue the day you dared to cross the mighty, miraculous Vital!” He then ruined the evil impersonation by attempting a villainous laugh that turned out so corny, it bordered on the ludicrous.
“Oh, really?” Trixie laughed. “We’ll have to see about that.” She flared her horn, and, in a moment, the tides were turned as she began tickling him.
“Curses! Foiled again. But how could you have known my one true weakness? Curse you, Great and Powerful Trixie!” Vital wailed as he pitched his voice to make it as grating and unappealing as possible, cracking at multiple points.
Trixie just laughed as she continued to tickle him.
“It’s good to see you're taking your lessons so seriously,” a familiar voice spoke up suddenly. Clover looked at them with a deadpan expression.
“Well, we started out well enough, just, uh … got a little out of hoof?” Vital said as a blush rose in his cheeks, and he hastily rose back to his hooves, following Trixie’s example. “I [i[did make the prediction, like the assignment said, though,” he added.
“I look forward to hearing your detailed report on it,” Clover said in a tone that said she wasn’t going to be letting this go.
Vital chuckled nervously, and cleared his throat. “Well, you see,” he said as his voice cracked. He cleared it again. “It went something like this.”
Grif waited patiently on the padded mat he’d had set up in the training grounds at his instruction when the exercises had come to a close for the day. Training dummies had been dismantled, and all the training weapons and armor had been properly locked into their racks and put away in the weapons sheds. It was late. Everyone besides the night watch were asleep. These lessons would be far too intense for spectators.
Grif had informed Gilda to meet him here at midnight. He hadn’t told her the reason, nor had he given her any specific instructions, because he wanted to see the level of preparation the Gryphoness would make on her own initiative. The cold winter wind whipped through the air as sharp as a knife. It actually reminded the battleworn Gryphon of the winters back on the isles, except they had been full of rain and wet. In comparison, the cold, dry air of winter was refreshing.
The silent rustle of folding wings was the only indication Grif had as Gilda landed in the snow with a gentle crunch. A storm cloak fluttered in the late night winds as the Gryphoness narrowed her eyes, fingering her twin war axes as she looked about nervously. She tapped the clasp that held the cloak to her body, and the colors shifted to a weathered grey. Her golden eyes seemed almost to glow as she peered over the area, then looked directly at Grif. “So what’s the mission?” she asked bluntly.
“Disarm,” Grif ordered as he unclipped his harness and removed his other weapons, before tossing them into a makeshift pile.
Gilda nodded, and followed Grif’s example, adding her own weapons to the pile. On top of the two war axes, Grif was both surprised and elated to see the number of hidden daggers, garrote wire, and several vials of what could either be potion or poison, considering how carefully she handled them.
“Strip,” he commanded next as he pulled on the clasps of his armor without taking his eyes off of her. Metal plates clanged as they hit the ground beneath him.
“No dinner?” Gilda asked as she flicked her crest to the side, before undoing the clasp on her cloak to reveal a set of thin, tight leather armor for easy maneuverability and stealth. Two metal pauldrons shone dimly on her shoulders, and the sleek black well-oiled leather straps along her arms reflected the moonlight. The light jingle of tiny metal links hinted at the extra protection she wore beneath. As she took off each piece, her lithe muscles bunched and released. She’d gained in strength since joining the Bladefeathers, and a part of Grif couldn’t help but admire it to an extent. However, there were more pressing matters at hand, namely Gilda’s less than stellar performance of late.
“You’ve lost to Thalia three times in the last week,” Grif said pointedly. His face was an impassive mask. “I’d expect nothing less from a normal Gryphon, but you have been learning from me, and my father would find it disgraceful that you couldn’t hold your own in beak and talon.” Grif spread his wings, working the joints as he rolled his neck and spine.
“It’s not like there’s an exact style to it,” Gilda pointed out as her hackles began to rise, and she grit her teeth. It would seem a bit of that pride still clung to her. Still, that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing in this situation. The right prodding could easily motivate the Gryphoness to push far beyond her usual limits.
“Oh really?” Grif growled as he got into stance. He crouched like a panther, keeping his head low to the ground, his motions slow and stalking. “It is more instinctual, yes, but without using your mind, you’ll soon find yourself in trouble. You need to merge instinct with cunning. It is in that mix that the true predator lies waiting.”
Gilda walked slowly onto the mat. Her muscles were tense as she crouched down low, and flexed her talons. Her face was a mask, but in those eyes, Grif saw something that nagged at him. He didn’t know why, but the way she looked at him seemed so familiar.
A second later, Grif removed his talons from the Gryphoness’ throat, and let her get off the mat. “You’re holding back,” he stated. It wasn’t a question.
“So what if I am?” Gilda shot back. Stubborn will shone in her eyes, but it wasn’t pure. This wasn’t the Gilda Grif was used to seeing. There wasn’t nearly enough surliness in that retort.
“What's the purpose of making a request so important that Thalia needs to handle it, if you won’t give it your all to gain it?” Grif had no idea what her request was. Only she and Thalia would know that, until Gilda managed to beat her.
“That’s not your business yet,” Gilda said as she licked at one of her cuts hesitantly.
He knocked her head away. “You treat your wounds when we’re finished. And what is my business is that if you are ever in a serious fight, where you're stuck with beak and talons, you’d better be giving it your everything. You disgrace our people when you hold back. You disgrace everything someone like you means for our species,” he growled as the flesh at the back of his beak curled to show his teeth.
“I won’t let it come to that,” Gilda growled in turn. “Never again.”
And then it finally clicked. He’d seen those eyes every morning after the war, once he’d destroyed the evokers. That mixture of fear, guilt, and self loathing was unmistakable. “What happened?” he asked. His eyes softened a bit, but he made sure to keep his face impassive as he approached her.
“No.” Gilda shook her head firmly. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“That’s nice,” Grif said as he pounced her, knocking her to the ground and pinning her on her back, “but I didn’t mean that as a request. Tell me what happened, Gilda.”
To her credit, or perhaps to her detriment, the Gryphoness shook her head, even as she struggled to hold back the tears that were trying to form. “No,” she whispered hoarsely
“Gilda, listen to me.” Grif stared the Gryphoness down as he pushed his face into hers. I have done many, many terrible things. I have killed in all kinds of ways. I have disemboweled enemies, decapitated them, eviscerated them, skinned them alive, gave them death by torture. I took a Gryphon and tore him apart bit by bit, until only a fine red mist remained. There is nothing. You hear me? NOTHING you can have done that would make me think less of you. But if you can’t tell me, a creature far more fallen then you will ever be, what sin holds you back, then you will be forever nothing more than a coward.” He tapped her chidingly on the forehead with his beak. “Now tell me what happened to you.”
Gilda sighed as she went limp under the stronger Gryphon’s weight. “Okay. Okay,” she whispered. “I just … I don’t really know how to explain it. It’s all so hazy. Screaming, laughter, rage, pain, fear. It was all so scattered. I remember seeing the flames at the compound. I was just returning from a hunting trip at the time. The Dogs used a special kind of magic to burn into the stone and wood alike. The flames were so hot, and they were green, like Changeling fire. I ran to my family’s quarters in the hall, but when I got there….”
She gulped, and licked her beak as her tail twitched nervously, while her breathing came in shorter, quicker spurts. Grif still hadn’t let down his guard as he held her down. “Blood. Everything smelled of smoke and blood and burnt fur. They were already dead. I wanted to mourn, but I knew it wasn’t the time. Dad would’ve told me to get to the clan leader and his family. And besides, the stone was already starting to crack and give way. I could hear the supports groaning as they began to weaken. When I reached the clan leader’s chambers, I found more of the same. By then, the clan hall had well and truly begun to collapse.” She coughed as she swallowed again. “I barely escaped with my life. I couldn’t even give them a proper burial.”
Grif stared at her for a moment, and then, quite suddenly, her smacked her on the beak. “That was for lying to me about what happened,” he told her, before motioning for her to carry on.
Gilda took a deep breath, and sighed as she averted her eyes. “This is where the hard part comes in. I trekked into the forest for a couple of days. My kill from the hunt was enough to keep me going for awhile, and I had enough water in my skin to last me till I could get to the next territory over, make some arrangements to get to Griffonstone. Unfortunately for me, I was followed. I don’t remember how many there were to start with. I just know that they caught me unawares. I was stripped of all my belongings. They … they tried to–.” She shuddered, and gulped again. “Look, they tried to rape me, okay? And then I thought about Mom, and what they might’ve done to her, and … well, that’s when it went fuzzy. I remember coming to covered in blood. Their wings were torn, their throats cut. Their bowels were strung up in the trees like popcorn on a Hearth’s Warming tree. I don’t know if I can stomach telling you the rest. I just know I could taste it in my mouth. I lost my family, I lost my clan, … and I lost myself, Grif. I don’t think I could ever do that again.”
“Do you want revenge?” Grif asked her. “You feel wronged? You want to get that feeling of being in control back, of feeling like you're your own Gryphon?”
“I already killed them, Grif. I don’t need revenge.” She shook her head.
“No, you don’t, but you're trying to get it anyway. You’re trying to get it on the one Gryphon in the entire world you never will, and you’ll keep fighting and fighting, and the only time you’ll get what you seek is when you die, because the Gryphon you hate, the one you keep fighting, that Gryphon is you, Gilda. You’re fighting yourself, and all you're doing is making your wounds deeper.”
“I won’t give myself the opportunity to be that again, Grif. Why else do you think I acted so brusque with Dash’s friends the first time? It was for their protection.”
“Look at me, Gilda. Look into my eyes. Do you see those black rings?” he asked, leaning as close as he could, and forcing his eyes as wide as possible. “Those are the black gale within my very soul. I let it in, and I let it make me a monster. I didn’t trust myself afterwards. I was always on guard. But I learned. I forgave myself, and I accepted that the Winds forgave me. I will carry this mark forever, Gilda, but I will not hold back out of fear. I tell you now as their avatar, the Winds forgive you, Gilda. So forgive yourself.”
Gilda was silent for a long time as she pondered those words. “I don’t know if I can,” she finally said. “Is … is it okay if I just sort of take it a day at a time?”
Grif released the pressure on her chest, and suddenly, he embraced her in a hug. “We’ll work on it together,” he promised, “if you’ll trust me.”
Gilda chuckled. “You think I’d still be in the compound, if I didn’t?”
“Now get up, and stop taking it easy on me.” Grif released her, and moved to the other end of the mat. “Begin.”
What followed was the first of what would, doubtless, be many long training sessions ranging from late at night to blazing midday.
Hammer Strike couldn’t help but smile as he sparred against Twilight. Blow for blow, their weapons clashed, sending cascades of sparks flying through the cobble square that had become the main parade ground and training yard during New Unity’s expansion. Over the last several hours, Twilight had definitely shown some marked improvements. She was catching on to some of the lessons, and, unlike her former teacher in the last training, Twilight was much faster to learn and adapt. Rather than avoiding hits, she tended to pull up a small shield spell at the location. While it was risky to create single point shields, Hammer Strike nodded in approval. That kind of innovation was exactly the sort of combat adaptivity that would keep her alive, if she ever had to get into a real fight. And considering she was a princess, and one of the great defenders of the realm, the idea really wasn’t all that unreasonable. After every hit, the shield took most of the energy from Hammer Strike’s blows, and dispersed it appropriately.
Under normal circumstances, that would have been an excellent defense. What a shame that it couldn’t hold up against extreme attacks. Fortunately, Hammer Strike chose to hold back, but while the threat was there, there weren’t many beings who could pull that much power forth.
Twilight panted as she blocked yet another strike, before striking the ground with the tip of her staff, and sending a wave of flames Hammer Strike’s way. The Earth Pony shrugged his shoulders as the flames blew aside, and he struck her staff away. Twilight danced around, continually targeting the Pony, and either narrowly missing or compensating for Hammer Strike’s defensive interceptions.
Just as he was about to strike a decisive blow, Twilight’s eyes began to glow as a bright rainbow light flooded up from the ground beneath him, followed by a practically cataclysmic explosion that shook the grounds themselves. A cone-shaped barrier ensured the worst of the blast remained contained, not only assaulting the Pony lord with the heat and debris, but also the increased concussive force that had no vent for escape.
Twilight’s knees began to wobble as she alighted on the ground several yards away, and she leaned on her staff for support, while she waited for the scene inside her makeshift cone-shaped bubble to reveal itself.
A rhythmic beating, not unlike a drum, thrummed over the air. It took a while for Twilight to pinpoint its source, but her eyes widened when she heard the beat, followed by the sound of cracking glass. A large gash of light spidered out along the barrier. More cracks spread from the initial strike. Then the cone shattered, sending bits of hardened light and magic flying every direction. Hammer Strike took advantage of the moment to charge the mare. Before she could act against him, he had knocked her staff away, and tripped her, quickly placing a training blade on the back of her neck.
“Now that,” Hammer Strike started as he removed the training blade. “That was a good idea. Had I been an average adversary, I wouldn’t have anything left.”
Tired laughter cascaded out of Twilight as she smiled up at him. “Were you surprised?”
“The spell relay was well hidden, but I would suggest moving it a little lower. You can feel some of the energy as you travel over the surface of them,” Hammer Strike replied.
“I’ll … have to make some adjustments, then,” she said as Hammer Strike removed his sword, and she seized his extended hoof to rise. “Am I … doing okay, Hammer Strike? Be honest with me. I can take the criticism.”
Hammer Strike looked out over the rising sun. “Your combat magic could use some work. And while the shield spell is well done, you should be sure to adjust it for different weapons. If I were to come at you with, say, a rapier, the timing for some of those placements would be a bit much to keep up with. If you were to go against someone who is actually competent with a rapier, like Grif, then you wouldn’t stand a chance using those spells.”
“So you’re basically telling me I need to come up with a plan for every possible permutation of weapon and user?”
“Weapon type. It’s much easier to just classify it as, say, light, medium, and heavy weapons for the base. Then you add on smaller situations, but for the most part, think in a general sense. You can run into a hundred different weapons that are used in the same stance, and same style. There are some variations based on the user, but you get the general idea from the weapons alone.”
Twilight put a pensive hoof to her chin. “That does make sense. And I do like to prepare for most eventualities. This could be my next big project. To tell you the truth, it’s been kind of boring around the library lately, and all the bowing and ‘Your Highnesses’ have been getting on my nerves.”
“You’re free to visit New Unity every now and then, you know. You’ll certainly get a different set for interaction.” Hammer Strike gave a faint chuckle as he rested on his practice sword.
“Only if you promise to keep the Medics from examining me,” Twilight insisted. “I’ve read their files. It may have been an accident, but necromancy is still necromancy, and removing a Pony’s skeleton like that….” She shuddered.
“Trust me, they’ve learned the hard way that there will be little to no examinations, especially after the last incident.”
“Last incident? What happened?”
“All I know is that it involved a pigeon and the scouts.”
“I … guess that’s okay? Just as long as there isn’t any tree sap.”
“Honestly, I think tree sap would have been better.”
“Heh. Those kids are gonna do well,” Grif noted casually as he walked along the cobbled street. He and Pensword had been making their way through Ponyville to see about Cheerilee’s plans for the new school house, when they’d caught sight of the CMC in a clearing nearby. A convenient bush covered the two as they watched the four foals demonstrating their flag bearing routine to Rainbow Dash.
Pensword remained silent as he watched from his spot, but his gentle smile showed that he was enjoying the show.
“If nothing goes wrong, then I’m pretty sure they’re a shoe-in,” Grif chuckled. “I’ll have to step things up to make our show as good.”
“Oh, so you are working on this? Good. I was trying to come up with something, but I haven’t had much luck so far,” Pensword replied with a relieved sigh.
“Yeah, I had a few neat id–.” Grif stopped speaking. He lowered his body, and gestured towards an area not far off. Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon were currently spying on the Crusaders and exchanging worried whispers.
“What do we do? I say we intercept them before they move. You know they will be working on jealous feelings. Heck, if I was a foal, I would try that, too, sadly. That, or get involved in their set up.”
“And have to deal with Filthy and Spoiled Rich attacking us?” Grif asked. “We’ll need proof.”
“Proof?” I am the greatest strategist, and you are around Gryphon chicks. I think we can read body language. Besides, we could just walk up to them after they leave the bushes to ask if they have any ideas for their flag routine, just delay them till the four leave the stage.”
“I want to hear what they’re saying first,” Grif said as he started to slink closer.
“Did you see that?” Diamond Tiara asked, more than a little shocked, and, surprisingly, afraid. “I can’t believe I’m saying this. They could win.”
“But how do we stop them?” Silver Spoon asked, dismayed. “We already called them blank flanks!”
Grif rolled his eyes as he moved carefully to remain covered, while still maintaining a proper vantage point. What he saw bothered him. Diamond Tiara was staring at the CMC, more specifically at Scootaloo’s wings.
“We just need a new way to get under their skin,” Diamond said with a wicked grin. “Or under their wings.”
Pensword’s ears twitched. “I think that is actionable intel there,” he whispered. Thankfully, the other two still hadn’t noticed the adults. “I think it is.”
“I’m going to stick with this problem until it plays out,” Grif told Pensword. “Why don’t you go and pick up those reports? I’ll meet you back at New Unity.”
Pensword opened his mouth to object, but one look from Grif silenced him. He nodded, and crept silently out of the clearing to resume his journey to the schoolhouse. At the very least, he could alert Cheerilee of the danger, and tell her Grif had a plan. Considering what had happened with the cape debacle, he knew those two were on thin ice anyways.
Grif knew he’d catch hell from Pensword about it later but he needed to see this. He needed to know how depraved Diamond Tiara would be to accomplish her whims. More importantly, he needed to know how much of a self confidence issue Scootaloo had. He crept closer to the arena as the two bullies made their move, sticking to the shadows to better conceal himself. He barely managed to contain himself as the bullies stepped over a line no one had the right to cross.
“Well, have fun practicing anyway, even if your routine will never–how shall I say–take off!” Diamond and Silver Spoon finished as they turned smugly and pranced away.
Grif slowly released the breath he’d been holding as he’d struggled to maintain his cover. He looked down with some surprise to see blood welling from small cuts on his palm. He hadn’t realized how tightly he’d been clenching his fists. He shook his head. That didn’t matter right now. He’d seen what he feared. Despite Scootaloo’s quick mask of confidence and determination, there was pain, self doubt, and hurt behind that foal’s eyes. Two separate sets of memories sparked several different yet similar scenes: a young human and a young cub, both scorned and pushed around by their peers.
Grif did the one thing he could think of in the current situation. He did a swift about face and bounded along the road, until he’d gotten far enough away to take wing without being noticed. Then he made a beeline for Ponyville library. First, he needed to find a history book. Then he needed Rainbow Dash….
By all the four Winds, he would put this right.
“Spike?” Grif called as he slammed the library door with his fist. Technically the library had been closed until Twilight’s return, so the Gryphon was hoping the young drake was at home.
The door creaked open as Spike yawned into his claws, before rubbing his eyes. Clearly, he’d just gotten up from a nap. “Hey, Grif. What’s up? You sound kinda stressed.”
“Spike, what would you say your relationship is with the Crusaders? Would you consider them your friends?”
“Those girls? I don’t know,” Spike answered honestly. “We don’t really get to talk all that much. I see Sweetie Belle every once in awhile when I’m visiting the boutique, and I’ve bumped into them a few times when they’re running through town … or they bump into me,” he mumbled the last part. “But they mostly just hang out with Twilight for tutoring. And after the whole incident with everypony trying to use them to get to Twilight, they haven’t been over as much. Why do you ask?”
“Because, my young fire-breathing friend, I need your help to hunt down knowledge in order to prevent Scootaloo from spending all night attempting to achieve a goal she likely won’t, and then possibly developing a complex that will lead to her being as neurotic as Twilight in a free-floating curriculum,” Grif explained as he pushed his way into the library.
Spike shuddered. “That bad?”
“Two fillies who I’m sure I don’t need to name went after her about her wings and their inability to support her aerially.”
“They did what?” Spike’s voice was surprisingly calm, considering his previous types of reaction to surprising events. What made it even more unsettling was how, for the first time in Grif’s memory, Spike’s pupils narrowed into vertical slits as he clenched his claws into a fist, then unclenched it, after taking a deep breath.
“Yes, I know. But I’m more worried for what this will do to her than about justice right now. I know how it feels and what it can do to you, and I know you know, too,” he said as he began perusing the shelves.
“Tell me what you need,” Spike said. “They don’t call me Twilight’s number one assistant for nothing.”
“I need a book about Pegasi who couldn’t fly, preferably ones who accomplished something important,” Grif noted as he took the air, and began scanning the higher shelves. “Something with a lot of pictures, too, or I doubt we’ll get Rainbow Dash to look at it.”
“You take high, and I’ll take low,” Spike said as he pulled up on either arm like he had a set of sleeves there, before getting to work. It took them about an hour, but they’d finally narrowed it down to three candidates: Grounded Glory, Famous Pegasi Throughout the Ages, and Paving Your Way: A Grounded Perspective to Pegasi Lifestyles.
Spike was swift to shove the third aside. “Way too academic. Twilight might recommend it, but Scootaloo and Rainbow would probably just run off somewhere else to do whatever crazy stuff they usually do together.”
“What's this one?” Grif asked as he pointed to the middle volume.
“Based on what I saw in the index, it’s a book about big contributors to Pegasus history. Twilight decided to give it a read when she was cross referencing books on flight. Did you know some of the most advanced weather manipulation formulae were actually made by a weather Pony after he’d had his wings deadened in a rogue tornado?” Spike suddenly gasped, then smacked his face as he ran his claws down it. “And now I sound like Twilight. Great.”
“This definitely sounds like the book we want.” Grif chuckled as he opened it. “Wing lost in a war, lost to disease, weather accidents, crash landing paralyzation, and ... here we go! Born with underdeveloped wings.” Grif scanned through the page carefully, and a smile pulled at his lips. “Thanks, Spike. I think this will do quite nicely.” He placed a bag of gems on the table. “Just put it on my account, would you?”
“Uh, Grif, you don’t owe the library anything,” Spike said as he scratched his head confusedly. “And I don’t think Twilight has a tab system, like Joe does.”
“My file. Whatever. Just mark down that I have the book, Spike. The gems aren’t for a tab. They’re for you.” He chuckled good-naturedly as he turned out the door with a simple two-fingered salute. And then he was gone. Now he needed to find Rainbow Dash, and get her butt over to the CMC. He just hoped it would be enough.
Gnarl Fang smiled as Night Terror dropped the tomahawk again. His gray-streaked shale mane dimmed in the moonlight. His worn scarred coat had just a hint of green to it. “What's so hard? Most foals can pick this up.” It was more teasing than reproaching as he flourished his own small axe again, moving it fluidly between his hooves to strike the dummy with it twice in the head, and then once in the neck with the back spike, leaving the weapon there to emphasize the point.
Night Terror stared as she picked hers up once more with her hoof. “I’m sorry,” she said as her ears wilted behind her head. Her Canterlot accent was still quite prominent. “My father said my hoof magic isn’t exactly the best, that because I have wings, instead of a horn, my magic is unsure what to make of my body and how to operate.” She took a deep breath as she shifted a wing over to seize the weapon from her double-hoofed grip. The wings handled it just fine. When she tried to return it to her hooves again, the same problem occurred, and the tomahawk was earthbound once more.
“It’s not magic, young one.” Gnarled Fang laughed at the ludicrous idea, and the fang for which he was named flashed in the night. “It’s simply a skill mastered over time.”
“Right.” Night Terror nodded respectfully, even as she struggled to avoid the shudder of revulsion at the training thus far. She had been forced to wear only a single pelt of fur to cover her body. For the sake of tradition, they’d said. How anyone could choose to go in the nude was beyond her understanding, and yet, here she was, surrounded by sweaty Thestrals practicing with just their fur and manes to clothe them.
“Would you like to see a trick?” the old Thestral asked.
Night Terror sighed. “I highly doubt I could reproduce such a trick, but you may show me, if you wish.”
“I’m not asking you to reproduce it.” The old stallion chuckled as he produced two more matching tomahawks. From where, Night Terror didn’t know. He tossed one into the air. When it reached the apex of its rise, he tossed the second. The head of the second axe hit the first, sending it back towards the Thestral. He caught it in a flash, while sending up a third tomahawk with fluid, precise movements that proved quite surprising for a Pony of such advanced years to accomplish. Gnarl Fang juggled the axes faster and faster, until all Night Terror could make out were the deadly whirling weapons in a blur of motion.
She watched with calculating eyes as she took in the breadth of dexterity the Thestral had amassed. If these Thestrals all received the same training, then they were truly a force to be reckoned with in close combat. She would have to make sure she put this into her next report. Thankfully, the Ponies here had bought the story that Blueblood was still on speaking terms with her. And considering the extra homes the family had in its holdings, it was a simple matter to arrange to send them to one of those addresses, and then have it forwarded to the estate or one of Baron Blueblood’s many hidden retreats. Yet, despite the revulsion and the judgement she felt towards these creatures, she couldn’t help but feel a thrill of fear as the tomahawks continued their deadly dance. One misspoken word could easily break the warrior’s concentration. She didn’t need blood on her hooves, at least not this early in the game.
With a sudden twist, the old Thestral turned, and bucked each axe as it came down. The blades impaled themselves into the dummy, cutting deeply into both arms and the forehead.
“Ta-da!”
Night Terror gaped in utter shock at the deadly accuracy. Each blow would have landed on a vital point. Had that dummy been alive, it would have bled out in moments. She gulped as Gnarl Fang approached the dummy, removed one of the tomahawks, and tossed it to the ground at her hooves. She sighed, and moved a hoof to pick it up. This time, she let go. She could get a hooficure later, and then she would get her silk robes later tonight. She took the axe. She held it. She could move it freely. “I bet you want me to throw it now?” she asked darkly.
“Not until you can get three strikes without breaking your movement,” he insisted firmly.
She blinked. “Wait, what? So … to make sure I understand this right, in your terms, you want me to get up close to the dummy, to my ‘enemy,’” the world felt foreign and strange in her mouth, “and strike it in close quarters?”
“You won’t always have the luxury of distance in a fight,” Gnarl Fang said bluntly. “You need to be able to use this to defend yourself at close quarters as well.”
“And so, you teach the more difficult of the two first?” she asked in her more formal accent as she walked up to the dummy and hit it on the ear with the tomahawk. It was getting early, and she was loath to admit it, but her body had yet to adjust to a nocturnal schedule. She’d always had to work the day shifts in the mansion, catering to parties and the like.
“I was told to accelerate your training, because of how far behind you are,” Gnarl Fang explained.
“Far behind?” Night Terror sputtered in disbelief, before she regained control of herself, and shook her head to wake back up. She couldn’t afford to let her mask drop for even a moment. Too many instances like this would allow them to get a read on her, and that was something that could not happen. But perhaps that was their game. If that was the case, then she definitely still had much to learn about how Thestrals thought and worked.
“These are skills most foals learn before their tenth birthday,” the old warrior informed her. “Normally, a mare of your age would be skinning her own kills by now.”
Night Terror did her best not to look pale at the thought of skinning, let alone doing her own killing. “What of Fox Feather?” she asked with a sniff as she tried to pull the tomahawk out of the dummy, only to have it slip and fall to the ground, where she had to bend down and pick it back up. “I don’t see her here.”
“She isn’t expected to learn the tomahawk,” Gnarl Fang said. “She married into the family. She wasn’t born into it, and she’s skilled enough to handle herself in combat.”
Night Terror sighed. “It just feels like you expect me to fend off assassins. My father,” she made sure to put a little spit behind the word for the sake of her cover, “would never even bother. He’s too busy recouping from his setbacks, not to mention the hooligans who decided to, shall we say, redecorate his home.”
“These are your history, your customs. I would think you would wish to honor the mare who wielded the weapon you brought with you.”
“The dagger?” She asked. “What, that came from....” She jerked to a halt out of habit. It was taboo to talk about the first mother of the Blueblood line. She looked back to her belt and the knife that hung from it.
Gnarl Fang narrowed his gaze as he looked knowingly at the filly. “I think tonight, you will lodge with your kin. Perhaps it will give you perspective.”
“My kin? My kin is in Canterlot,” Night Terror replied adamantly. That look quickly turned to confusion when, instead of the stern rebuke she’d been expecting, Gnarl Fang actually laughed.
“No, no, little one. I meant your other kin, your Thestral kin.”
The tomahawk dropped to the ground yet again. “But … but that’s simply not possible,” the filly exclaimed. “The family records clearly state they either died out or deliberately didn’t marry to keep the Unicorn blood clean.”
Gnarl Fang’s face darkened like a thundercloud as his pupils narrowed to slits. “Do they now? We’ll have to have a talk with your family historians at a later date, then, little one.” His wings flared out behind him, and even as his shadow cast out to cover the filly, she shrank back. Seeing this reaction, the older stallion quickly checked himself, and took a deep breath. “My apologies. Honor is something we value very highly in our culture. For a person to disrespect their ancestry in such a way, especially after all that they did to keep this nation free, it’s despicable.” He snorted, and stamped his hooves firmly against the earth to vent his frustration, then looked on the filly with a pitying gaze. “Your family has lied to you, little Night Terror. Indeed, it would seem they have been for your whole life.” He spat at the ground at the thought, and though he had restrained himself, the disgust was still quite clear on his face. “The Whiteblood family produces some of our best hunters, and they are also direct descendants of your line.”
Night Terror gaped, completely blindsided by the sudden announcement. “Family?” Either a historian had deliberately removed the details, or someone had done a poor job ensuring the previous line carried out their duties. Whichever the case may have been, it was likely Baron Blueblood would appreciate the information. She had to learn more.
“A great deal of it, as a matter of fact,” the old Thestral chuckled.
“How big?” she whispered as shadows slowly emerged from the dark of night, and gathered around the scene. Her eyes darted around, frightened at first, but as the shadows were made real in the moonlight, all she could see were smiles and grins, kindly expressions, compassionate eyes. She felt the beginnings of tears stinging at her eyes, and her breath caught in her throat as the passage constricted. Her chest ached. Or did it burn? She couldn’t tell for sure. These looks … why did they make her feel this way? They shouldn’t. They couldn’t. Her father was supposed to do that. Not, not these … these…. “Why?” she finally managed to croak. “What have I done to deserve all of this?”
“The answer to that is simple,” Gnarl Fang said as he walked over, and gently picked up the tomahawk. “You have done nothing against us, child. You have never been shown there was another path. You are innocent, and you have been horribly wronged.” The old Thestral wrapped her gingerly in his wing. “Last I heard, the Whiteblood line currently holds eighteen mature mares and stallions, with forty eight healthy foals being raised.”
Another elderly stallion stepped forward as he leaned on a walking stick carved with a series of Thestrals, the phases of the moon, and depictions of the tribes’ major events in their history. “Come, little Night Terror. I think it’s time we ended your training for the night. You are tired, and it is quite clear that you have much to think about.” He chuckled as he looked on. “You appear as though the moon herself deigned to speak with you. We’ll teach you more tomorrow.” He motioned with a wing for the young mare to follow. “Come, come. And please, feel free to call me Grampy. The time it would take to explain the exact relation would take far too long.” He laughed good-naturedly as he led her away with Gnarl Fang on the other side to help with the escort. “It will be my pleasure to introduce you to the rest of your family.”
The Thestrals continued to talk jovially as they walked Night Terror out of the training grounds. She stared down listlessly at the ground, only barely keeping track of the discussion. She caught a few snatches here and there, but the majority of her focus lay in the struggle to identify this strange feeling. Her chest was tight, her stomach queasy. Even as they arrived at what, for all intents and purposes, appeared to be a wooden house about the size of the manor’s kitchen, she didn’t know what to say, let alone think. The dagger that was her family heirloom smacked against her side, and every time she looked at it, her stomach clenched. Even as she entered to meet the rush of excited young foals anxious to know a potential new playmate, she hardly recognized her surroundings. The intricate carvings, the simple fireplace, the doors leading Faust knew where. Everything felt warm, inviting, cozy. And then, as she looked up into the motherly eyes of a mare who insisted she call her Aunt, the feelings redoubled. When all was said and done, the Whitebloods left her be, attributing her lack of responsiveness to exhaustion, and got her settled in the sleeping quarters. As Night Terror lay on the soft sleeping mat, and pulled the covers over her body, she finally realized just what the strange feeling was, and she wasn’t sure what to think of it. For some reason, some incredible, impossible, inconceivable reason … she actually felt guilty.
“Rainbow Miriam Danger Hurricane Dash, wake up and get down here this second, or so help me, I will have Pensword throw you in the brig!” Grif thundered directly under the branch the Pegasus in question was sleeping on.
“WAUGH!” Rainbow cried as she flailed out of her afternoon doze, before falling off the branch. She quickly turned her body, and flared her wings to soften the fall as much as possible. As such, what might have been a hard crash turned into a more … awkward landing. “What is it?” she asked, immediately snapping to attention after a hasty dustoff. Her eyes flashed with irritation at the use of her full name, but she knew better than to talk back at Grif when he was in a mood like this.
“We need to talk,” Grif said in a quieter tone, “about Scootaloo.”
Rainbow Dash’s wings began to twitch nervously. “What’s wrong? Did she run somepony over? Get caught up on some big cutie mark crusade where we need to go rescue her? Is she in trouble? Do we have to break her out of jail?” Her eyes widened as she gasped. “Did she actually fly? And I missed it?”
“I think we both know Scootaloo will never fly, Dash,” Grif said in a sad, but serious tone. “The question is what her mentor is going to do to help her accept that fact and get over it.”
Rainbow Dash hung her head. “I should be, but she’s been doing so great with her friends. I mean, they’ve got this awesome routine that’ll blow the horseshoes off the judges. Last time I saw them, they were the happiest I’ve ever seen them.”
“Dash, Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon found them after you left,” Grif said flatly. “They hit her below the belt, or more accurately, below the wings. She needs you, Rainbow.” He opened the book to a marked page, and slid it in front of her. “Lieutenant General Charging Hurricane, the eldest and least known son of Commander Hurricane, born with shrunken wing syndrome. He never flew a day in his life, but because of that, he practically rewrote standard grounded Pegasus tactics still used today. He also invented cloudcrete. Of the Hurricane bloodlines, his was lost to history, due to Pegasus traditions forbidding him from inheriting his father's house. His bloodline produced some of the most important Pegasi in history, though only one known family can tie back to him today, one Bow Hothoof.”
Rainbow Dash opened her mouth, then closed it, thought a bit, opened it again. “Give the book to me. I’ll find Scootaloo,” she promised. Her eyes glinted with determination.
“You're a good pony, Dash. And that filly loves you like the sister she never had. I could take this book to her, and I doubt it would mean much.” He closed the book, and slid it over the ground to the mare. “But coming from you, it may change her entire outlook on life. We’ve both been on her side of the fence. We’ve both been tormented, and we both know the best karma for those two spoiled little brats is going to be when your sister stands out there holding the flag proudly. Just try not to give her too much pride.” He chuckled as he turned to walk away. “It would be more devastating when we kick your flank.” He took to the air just slow enough to catch her parting remark.
“I’d like to see you try!” Rainbow Dash shouted back. She smiled, but let it drop as she turned towards town. “Now to get this book to Scootaloo.” She tucked the book under the crook of one of her forehooves as she flapped her wings, then stroked her chin ponderingly. “I wonder if there are any other Pegasi that couldn’t–.” Her eyes narrowed suddenly as she took to the air. Wait a second. . ..”
Grif chuckled as a resounding cry echoed through the air, sending birds and other creatures scurrying for cover.
“Grif! You’re turning me into an egghead!”
The train to carry the foals to the flag bearing competition had been extended unnecessarily to carry the foals from New Unity; however, only Day Moon, Inigo, and Cristo had shown up, along with a large group of adults led by Pensword and Grif. They and their equipment had easily been stored in two carriages, making the extra one unnecessary. The Ponyville foals took up much more space by comparison. Grif scanned the crowds worriedly as he attempted to spot Scootaloo and the CMC. “I don’t see them anywhere.”
Pensword looked around. “I think I saw Rainbow Dash getting Sweetie Belle and Apple Bloom. Dinky was following behind. I worry that Button Mash or Pip will try to delay the train,” he muttered as he turned his attention back to the platform . “You handle them. I’ll go see what's up. Don’t stop the train, if it has to leave. We’ll catch up.” Grif took to the air without a second thought. He flew around Ponyville, scanning the horizon, until he caught a flash of light from a familiar mane. He landed behind a bush, and listened closely.
“But that was me! You’re you! And it just doesn’t matter if you can fly or not. Your routine was amazing, ‘cause it represented what made Ponyville special. You do still know what that is, right?” Rainbow asked.
‘Friendship,” Sweetie Belle piped up.
“Three kinds of ponies living together as friends, like us. Earth Ponies,” Apple Bloom added.
“Unicorns,” Dinky chimed in.
“... And Pegasi,” Scootaloo finished hesitantly. “But Rainbow Dash, what if … what if my wings never grow? What if I never fly?” The filly wilted as she gave voice to the fear that had been festering beneath the surface for so long.
Grif chuckled silently as he heard the sound of paper rustling. “Listen, Scootaloo, maybe you’ll fly someday, or maybe you won’t. You’re all kinds of awesome, anyway! You see this Pony here? This is my great great however many greats grandfather. He couldn’t fly either, and he still found ways to be all kinds of awesome. This book’s full of Pegasi who didn’t fly, and proved they wouldn’t let it stop them. No matter what, we’ll find the way together. You have done, and will continue to do great things, with or without flying. Now who’s the toughest little Pony in this town?”
And then Grif heard the music filter as the girls started a heartsong. He stepped in carefully. “I’m sorry to interrupt, girls, but can you sing and move? The train’s already taken off. We’ve gotta run.” If they were surprised by the Gryphon, they didn’t show it as Scootaloo mounted her scooter. Apple Bloom and Sweetie boarded the attached wagon. Grif took Dinky on his back to help lower the weight Scootaloo had to carry.
“Give it your all. I’ll clear the way,” Grif told them as he and Rainbow followed the girls from the air. He reached with his magic, and moved the wind resistance away, using the air around them to push the filly forward. In the end, the six of them managed to just catch the train several miles outside Ponyville. They boarded through the empty caboose, and moved into New Unity’s passenger car. The Ponyville car had been sectioned off to keep foals away from the weapons and armor, so Grif decided they should stay, until they got to the empire.
Day Moon had been sitting and smiling when he looked out the window and saw a Pegasus pulling two fillies attached to her scooter on skis as it raced towards the train. His eyes widened, and his jaw dropped. The sun reflected off her helmet and goggles as her wings buzzed to generate the speed capable of matching the train. He sat there in silence till they entered the car with a familiar Gryphon and a cute purple unicorn with a blonde mane and tail. Before anypony could act, he moved over and waved a hoof to welcome the four. He would have preferred talking with the orange one alone, but one look at how closely they stood to each other told him that wasn’t about to happen.
“I’m Day Moon,” he offered as he held out a hoof to them. “What are your names?”
“I’m Dinky,” Dinky introduced herself first.
“I’m Apple Bloom,” Apple Bloom followed.
“We already met, Day Moon,” Sweetie Belle giggled.
“And I’m Scootaloo,” the Pegasus filly said, panting slightly as she offered a hoof.
He took the hoof, and smiled baring a sheepish fang at Sweetie Belle's comment. “A pleasure to meet all of you,” he found that Scootaloo’s hoof grip was tough and strong. He didn’t care that she was sweating or panting. “Do you go that fast all the time?” he asked as Grif took the scooter and skis, and stowed them in an overhead compartment. Nobody noticed the knowing smirk curving the Gryphon’s beak as he watched the children out of the corner of his eye.
“Well, maybe not always that fast. We had a little help from Grif, but I can still go pretty fast most of the time.” She grinned proudly, and Day Moon felt a strange hammering in his chest. That only increased when Scootaloo jumped up next to him and got into his face. “What’s vampire fruit bat taste like?” she blurted out.
That broke the moment, and Day Moon laughed, liking that boldness as he began to engage the four in a conversation that would last the remainder of the trip.
Diamond Tiara smiled as she looked to Silver Spoon. “Too bad the Cutie Mark Crusaders couldn't make the train on time. They’re going to miss out on us winning,” she boasted. Silver Spoon nodded in silent agreement. “Such a shame, really. They were so good. I guess they just got stage fright. So many eyes, and not a cutie mark among them.”
Grif chuckled from on top of New Unity’s car, and gave three short taps with his talons. Two long taps responded from within.
“Company, attention! Form ranks!” he barked suddenly, startling not just the two fillies, but other Ponies going about their business at the station. Immediately, the door to the car slid open, and a pair of Thestrals exited in perfect symmetry, moving to face one another on either side of the door. Next, a pair of Gryphons followed, then a pair of Unicorns, a pair of Changelings, and finally, a pair of Pegasi. “Present arms!”
Each of the troops drew a halberd, lining them up in a perfect aisle.
“Mares and gentlecolts,” Grif addressed the onlookers, “it is my great honor to announce the arrival of Her Ladyship, Lady Apple Bloom, of the honest House of Apple of the Twilight Court, third of her name.”
Apple Bloom stepped from the car gingerly, looking somewhat blindsided as she made her way down the aisle. The nervous walk soon turned into a proud strut, however, as she grew in confidence. Each guard banged the haft of his halberd on the ground before her in respect as she passed.
“It is my infinite pleasure to introduce to you, Lady Sweetie Belle of the generous House of Belle of the Twilight court, as of recently, first of her name,” Grif announced, this time with a dramatic bow. Sweetie Belle exited the cart with a practiced grace that showed just who her sister was. As with Apple Bloom, each guard banged the haft of his weapon to respect her as she moved.
“It is my indescribable joy to announce Her Grace, the heir to the Dutchy of Doo, daughter of a hero times a thousand heros, Lady Dinky Doo Turner Whooves!” Grif waved his arm over the door below him as Dinky exited, the very image of her father as she walked, both bashful and proud at the same time. Her eyes burned with distaste at the titles, but pride at where she’d come from. Once again, the guards repeated their actions, as they had with the previous two fillies.
“And finally, it is my rare and tremendous exultation to introduce a Pegasus truly unlike any other. Born a commoner, like most of us, this filly has faced hardship since her first breath, and even mother nature herself has thrown hurdles in front of her. Still, in spite of all that has come her way, she has succeeded! I announce to you now a person of no great birth, no formidable title. I introduce to you a filly who is destined for greater things, so please let me hear you stomp for the squire of Dame Rainbow Dash the Loyal, for here she is, Scootaloo the Tenacious!”
Scootaloo exited with a blush as she walked out with her scooter. Despite the confusion, however, she had at least had the time to brace for Grif’s introduction, after hearing the others. As such, she held her head high, spreading her wings proudly as she walked through the aisle. The pounding resounded with greater force as the warriors looked with approval on the brave young filly, who, against all odds, was willing to face her fears and be her own self.
Diamond Tiara’s jaw dropped as her crown slipped askew on her head. Silver Spoon rolled her eyes, and groaned in dismay. However, other than that, the two remained silent. The look Grif sent their way told them far more than any words just how deep in trouble they were. They were going to lose hard, and Diamond gulped at the thought of what that loss would mean.
As the attention finally ebbed away from the soldiers and their display, Grif smiled at them, and nodded. “At ease, guys. Damn fine work.” He patted each soldier on the back.
Each one kept their military bearing, but the light in their eyes was enough for Grif to know exactly how they felt on the matter. When the crowds had finally dissipated enough to proceed, they began their march towards the fields and the waiting stadium.
Pensword exited the car having seen the entire show from his seat. He waited for Grif to fall back to his spot before speaking. “Grif, that was mighty fine work. You drew attention directly to Ponyville, and most likely drew some support from the nobles wishing to make it good with the Princess of Friendship.” He paused and lowered his voice. “Did you find her parents? When I listened she said her parents were out of town but trusted her to take care of herself.”
“Pensword, there are things about Scootaloo… let's just say it’s not my place to give up that kind of information,” Grif replied, his mood dampening slightly. “Now get the triplets ready. We’ve got a show to put on directly after Ponyville.”
“Will do.” He paused. “Boys?” He called. Inigo, Cristo, and Day Moon were immediately at his side. “Have you seen your mother and sister?” he asked. All three shook their heads.
“We’ll help you look for them, though,” Day Moon added.
Pensword sighed as he looked back to Grif. “We’ll talk later,” he said. “Come on, boys. Let’s find the others.”
“So you're the wolf.” Grif chuckled to himself. The New Unity group was preparing themselves for their demonstration, and Grif had volunteered to teach Day Moon about how to properly don armor.
Day Moon nodded his head. “Yes,” he replied, feeling humbled to play such an important role.
“Pensword tells me amongst your people that, means you're going to become something of a monster hunter,” Grif noted as he demonstrated the straps, and just where they needed to be on the body. The armor Day Moon had been given was a set made for a Pony’s body, but in a traditional Gryphon style.
“That’s right. And that means in a year or two, I’ll need to be apprenticed to a master hunter. The Wolf Clan is most likely going to ask you to train me, at least that’s what the rumors say.” He winked. “They also said I could pass along these rumors to you, if I wanted to.”
“Considering the next monster hunter licensed by any of the reigning princesses is somewhere in Whinnypeg, I expect they will. The question is whether you have what it takes,” Grif noted as he helped Day Moon with the breastplate and pauldrons.
“Won’t know till I try. Even if I fail, I’ll just keep going, until I succeed,” Day Moon replied determinedly. “Also, thank you for the help.”
“Well, you’re certainly optimistic.” Grif chuckled dryly. “Unfortunately, I can guarantee you’ll only get one chance to succeed. You either do or you die in that particular business, possibly more so than others.”
Day Moon didn’t even looked fazed. “So? If I die, then I’ll just guide whoever can see me. Uncle Pensword says his little brother does all the time.”
“Don’t lose that mindset,” Grif said with a chuckle, “but don’t rest on some kind of pre-promised destiny either. You’re going to have to show me the quality of your being in the next few years. And even then, you’re going to hate me by the time we’re done.” He quickly cinched up the buckles binding the breastplate and back plates together, with just enough of a gap for the young Thestral’s wings to fit through comfortably. “But that's the future. For now, you need to work on what's directly ahead.” Grif noticed the foal’s face as Day Moon’s gaze followed a certain orange filly with stubby wings across the grounds. He smiled knowingly as he grabbed the colt by the chin, and directed his gaze to face his beak. “Chase the filly later. For now, concentrate on what's at hand. I’m probably going to be demonized in the history books for letting you wear this, so let's at least make it look good, okay?” He chuckled again as he tested Day Moon’s wings gently, before nodding, and sliding the curved aerodynamic helmet over the colt’s face.
“Who by?” Day Moon asked curiously, but his thoughts inevitably drifted back to Scootaloo again, and before Grif could even answer, he spoke up. “Do you think she’d make a good honorary Thestral?” Then his ears twitched as Grif’s earlier words sank in. “Wait a second. ‘Pre-promised?’ Sorry, but promise or no, I plan to use my skills to help my brothers. We still have a score to settle.”
“Later.” Grif chuckled as he produced a single shortened spear. Below the point, a small plank had been nailed on horizontally. A blue-and-gold silk banner hung from it bearing the symbol of New Unity, House Strike, Clan Bladefeather, and Commander Pensword’s emblem, but all these were smaller and harder to make out. The main part of the banner was taken up by the large emblem of a snarling bear’s face. “Do you, Day Moon of House and Clan Pen, swear to bear this flag with the proper honor and decorum befitting it?” Grif asked
Day Moon moved his free wing to tap against his heart. “Upon the heart of my race and upon the code of warriors past and current, for those who shall look upon today and be inspired, I shall perform my duties with exactness and finality.”
Grif handed Day Moon the flag, and smiled. “Pensword’s taught you well.”
Day Moon took it and, placed it in a holster that had been designed so he could run or fly without the flag interfering. His expression hardened into a stern mask as he prepared himself mentally for the coming event.
As colts and fillies form Ponyville performed their routines, Grif worked to organize his troops, making sure they were properly armed and armored. He stopped briefly to watch the CMC’s routine, and to clap when they were declared the winners for Ponyville’s flag-bearers. Then he returned to his task with a focused determination. By the time he had finished, the combined troops found themselves in a single square formation near the entrance to the routine ground.
“So, as it turns out, towns can elect to name their Equestria Games representative team something else, rather then just after their town. I’ve registered New Unity as ‘The Ursas,” Grif explained to Pensword.
“You have something planned, don’t you?” Pensword asked with a raised left wing. “Because that is an oddly specific phrase to use on me.”
“You ready?” Grif asked
Pensword just nodded his head, watching and waiting for what was to come.
When New Unity's name was called out, Day Moon and his brothers were the first ones to march out. Inigo was dressed in traditional Thestral body armor. He held a shortened version of a guard’s spear and shield, and slammed the two together with every few steps. Cristo, meanwhile, was dressed in Royal Guard armor. He held a similar spear and shield set, and was mirroring his brothers actions. Between the two of them, Day Moon walked in his wolf costume.
After they had moved a few feet from the entrance, Grif nodded to Pensword, and the two marched out behind the triplets in matching step. Behind them, the troops marched out decked in there full armor. No species stood beside a member of the same species. Thestral, Pegasus, Earth Pony, Unicorn, Gryphon, Changelings, and so on, marched together. The front line threw up polished sabers, and caught them in elegant sword dancing.
"Everywhere we go!" Inigo called out. The amplification rune he wore around his neck sparked to life, causing his voice to echo boldly through the stadium as he turned to the left, and saluted with a beat against his shield, and an upward thrust of his spear.
"EVERYWHERE WE GO!" the column repeated louder, following Inigo’s motions, and snapping a sharp salute to their left.
"People wanna know!" Cristo added as he turned to the right, beat his shield, and saluted.
"PEOPLE WANNA KNOW!" The column followed his example, striking a united salute to the right with each of their weapons.
"Who we are!" Day Moon said this time as he pounced forward. Since he was the wolf, the amplification charm had to be woven into the neck piece of his mask, but his voice carried just as well through the artificial blow horn that was his mask’s muzzle.
"WHO WE ARE!" The troops turned sharply to the front, following up with a united warrior’s shout as they brandished their weapons.
"So we tell them!" all three siblings shouted together as Cristo and Inigo closed in on their brother, and laid a shield-bearing hoof on his back with a grin.
"SO WE TELL THEM!" This time the column stomped their combined limbs without breaking stride as they all marched forward together, the sword bearers continuing their choreographed routine as the blades arced through the air, juggling between the the wielders without once touching their fellows.
"We are the Ursas!" The brothers clashed their shields over Day Moon’s back, while Day Moon stomped his hooves twice in rapid succession, triggering the runes that stored a sound spell to replicate Sylvio’s howl.
"WE ARE THE URSAS!” the troops mimed as they followed suit, emphasized by another howl.
"The mighty, mighty Ursas!"
"THE MIGHTY MIGHTY URSAS!"
They reached their destination shortly after, and the whole column, Grif and Pensword included, came to a parade rest, thrusting the butts of their spears into the ground and sheathing their swords in unison with the clanking of their armor, before unleashing one final masculine cry.
Off to the side, Kalima nodded her approval as she held Moon River aloft on her neck to view the proceedings. The foal cooed in delight as she watched with rapt attention, then cheered as the routine came to a close. Kalima clapped along with her and the other Ponies as she beamed at the sight. So many races and tribes, all working together as one cohesive unit. This was the epitome of unity, a true, new unity, one that she hoped would last for many generations to come.
The ceremonies were concluded. The towns had their flag bearers. The bearers’ names were now in the history books, and Pensword was proud to have his children among that list. Unfortunately, the events that followed the event were less than pleasurable. His eye still twitched in irritation when he recalled the memories of the days following the selection. The remainder of the journey had literally been little more than crossing swords with the Solar Court, mostly dealing with the Blueblood’s camp trying to get their hooks into the military bill.
He never thought he’d be so happy to see his desk again, a smaller replica of his original desk at Filly De Ys.Thankfully, he was back in New Unity now, and that brought a smile to his muzzle. He sat down with a groan, and sighed as he looked out on his personal office space. It was amazing what Clover could do with that expansion charm, and the office showed, having gone from a small unfurnished room to a four room complex, including a backup emergency war room and a personal study filled to the brim with books on military history and tactics. The fourth room had been hidden behind a bookcase; however, instead of the typical book latch, the mechanism had been hidden in a bust of Commander Hurricane. One simply had to lift the head and press a concealed button.
Matthew’s entire Titanic Collection, complete with a small flat screen TV, a DVD player, and a VHS player sat there, waiting for the electricity to power them. As an additional service, Clover had placed a preservation spell over the room and its contents, so nothing would degrade. He winced as he recalled her parting words: “You owe me, Pensword.” She would probably call that favor in at some moment he would least expect, and he was not looking forward to it. with help with some of his more construction-minded Gryphon children, a separate display case had been prepared to hold all the models Mathew had constructed back on earth. Books on Earth military history and tactics had been lain on glass-covered shelves keyed to his magical aura and layered with multiple protective charms and warding spells to prevent tampering or unauthorized access.
Two large maps hung along the walls, one of Equestria and its surrounding lands, and another of Earth. Flagpoles had been interspersed between the bookshelves and display cases, holding the historical flags Matthew had collected over the years. Last, but not least, a large rectangular case stood in the middle of the room with a gem light shining down on the surface. A closer examination would reveal that this particular case housed the American flag. A placard had been screwed into the casing below the flag, reading: In memory of Earth, family, ancestry, and the sacrifices they made to keep us free. You will never be forgotten. Pensword would visit that room from time to time, and stare at the placard, resting his hoof reverently on the engraving as he allowed the human side of him the chance to reflect and renew his strength, even as the two shared the stories and memories of Earth’s history, and more particularly, the history of Matthew’s family in the US Military.
The final stroke on this masterpiece of a colt cave came in the form of a series of enchanted windows that could generate any landscape Pensword wanted to see in Equestria. Currently, the one in his office was set to look out over the abandoned military port at Luna Bay.
The port structures were gone, but the docks had been maintained. They were more Roman in design, and had lasted the past thousand years without any real signs of degradation. That made the rest of the project much simpler. They would simply have to invest enough money to rebuild some of the key structures, like boathouses, lumber yards, barracks, an infirmary, that sort of thing. Pensword sighed in contentment at the thought.
A large tome sat on his desk, filled with hoof-written words. The most recent entry had only just finished drying. An inkwell and quill stood off to the side, waiting patiently for their turn. A previous abridgement of his time before becoming the Pensword of legend had already been included near the front. He had just gotten to his first great hunt, and the bear tooth he had claimed, when he looked up to find Moon River sitting in one of the chairs. Her eyes wandered over the room as her mouth dropped open in a familiar expression of awe that Lunar Fang had taken a particular interest in photographing every chance she could. Clearly, this was the fillie’s first instance of encountering a spacial expansion charm. He couldn’t help but chuckle. Of course his daughter would be the first one to discover his study. Nowhere was safe from that little Pony.
Shortly after this discovery, a knock sounded at the door. Pensword raised a curious brow. Most people would have passed that door without a second thought. After all, the room hadn’t been much larger than a small bathroom at first, hardly a place worth looking at, especially when everypony had already seen it.
He was startled yet again when he heard a knock at the door.
“Come in,” he called, and the sound of the lock disengaging filled the room. Moments later, the triplets came walking inside, looking with some surprise at the voluminous study and the doors at either end of the room. Pensword chuckled. “I am guessing you found Moon River escaped you?”
“Yes, Sir,” Inigo replied sulkily, fixing the filly with a frustrated glare that lasted a full five seconds, before melting into the natural curiosity all young creatures possessed.
“Well, she’s right over … where did she go?”
A squeal of delight echoed from the door to the study, followed by the familiar catch and grinding that heralded the opening of the secret passage. Pensword was on his hooves in a heartbeat as he raced to catch his daughter, before she could have the chance to get caught in the room alone, or worse, accidentally destroy some of the artifacts. Day Moon, Cristo, and Inigo followed close behind, making note of the exposed secret button on the bust as they raced into the hidden room.
Pensword was swift to grab his daughter just before she could rest on top of the flat screen television. She giggled in response, completely oblivious to just how close she had come to destroying such an expensive piece of technology.
“Uncle Pensword, what is this place? What are those flags? They don’t look like anything you’ve shown us before,” Inigo said. His hoofsteps echoed through the room, bouncing off the vaulted ceiling to reverberate in their ears.
Day Moon looked uncertainly at his siblings, but after a silent conversation after the nature of twins, he nodded, and turned to address his the Pony who was both father and uncle.
“Dad … are these gifts from the humans before they left?”
Pensword paused as he looked about the room, then at the triplets, and lastly at the little filly wrapped in his forelegs. He stayed there, hovering in the air for an agonizing minute as he quite literally debated with himself over what to do. He’d have laughed at the situation, were it not so serious. Finally, he shook his head to clear it, and nodded determinedly. “Cristo, please get your mothers, and bring them back here as soon as you can. I’ll make sure the door is unlocked for you.”
The colt was out of the room faster than Pinkie Pie on the hunt for a cupcake. Pensword sighed as he placed Moon River on his back and flew to one of the book cases. Once there, he pulled down a pair of large books, and lowered to the ground, handing one to Day moon and the other to Inigo. “It’s time I told you boys something, and Moon River, too. But first, let’s get back to the study. Once everyone is together, I can show you what lies in these books, and tell you about a ... let’s call it a special branch of the family.”
The two remaining triplets nodded as they made their way out into the study. A chorus of laughter greeted Pensword’s ears, and he turned to see a veritable swarm of spirits, both human and Pony. Uncle Cloud flickered between his human and Pony forms, smiling and nodding his head. Matthew’s grandfather and grandmother smiled knowingly as they gave Pensword playful winks. Many vikings, explorers, ship captains, and soldiers stood side by side with their Pony counterparts, all grinning in approval at what was to come. No words were needed. Pensword smiled gratefully, and nodded, before turning to join his sons.
It didn’t take long for the family to gather. Lunar Fang eyed the books nervously as she took her seat on a couch by the large coffee table, where the volumes lay. Fox Feather folded her forelegs expectantly as she tapped her hooves impatiently against the wooden floorboards. Moon River had climbed atop her mother’s head, and was busy nomming an ear in her usual playful manner, while Cristo, Inigo, and Day Moon stood at the ready by the table.
Pensword sighed as he looked to his children. “I must admit … I am not quite certain how to begin. I suppose the best way to say it is to just go forward, so I will start with this. It may take some time to help you children to understand what I am about to tell you properly. It is all right, if it does. You aren’t being tested here. A study is meant to be a place of learning and contemplation, and I am about to teach you a very valuable lesson.”
A timid knock sounded at the door, and all the family’s heads whipped to face it as Night Terror stepped in bearing snacks and tea on her back. She used her wings to offset the balance and ensure the tray wouldn’t topple over.
“Uh, I thought … that is–.” She cleared her throat and smiled nervously. “I made some food?” The fact that the sweet meats didn’t smell burnt or under-seasoned indicated she’d probably had help, but it was hopeful to see her trying.
Pensword nodded gratefully. “Thank you, Night Terror. This discussion will likely take some time. You can leave it on the table next to the books.” He motioned to the coffee table, then sighed. “Unfortunately, I do have to ask you to leave. This is a delicate business, a family business, and….”
“I know, I know,” she sighed back. “I’m not part of the family. Just … it’s not me, is it? I … I haven’t done anything wrong?”
Lunar Fang smiled gently as she laid a wing on the foal. “You’re not in trouble, little one,” she promised. “Why don’t you keep watch on the main door for us? That should help prevent anypony else from eavesdropping on our conversation.”
“Then … you may want to use this.” Pensword gaped as he watched the foal pull a large red gem from the pouch hanging on her side and place it on the table next to the tray. “I … thought you might want it, so I took it from your bedroom. They’re not very common, but a trained eye can tell a red herring from the average gem. Hiding it in your bed frame was very clever.” She tapped the gem once, and it turned a vibrant green, then winced as she prepared for the verbal beating she was certain would be coming her way.
Insead, Pensword grinned at her. “Clever girl,” he praised. “You may become an accomplished huntress yet, if you managed to sneak this out under Lunar Fang’s nose.” He picked up the gem, and looked at it closely. “A red herring, you say. Is that what they’re calling it now?”
“It’s the laypony’s term for it,” Night Terror explained. “Since its primary function is to mask the conversation you’re really having with a false one to confuse spies, it fits rather well.”
Pensword rubbed his chin. “I see. An interesting name, indeed. I may have to see what Grif thinks of it. He might find it intriguing. Thank you, Night Terror.”
“Of course.” Night Terror nodded, then gave a slight bow, before seeing her way out of the room and into the hallway. It was unlikely anypony would be interested in the door, and she knew placing herself in front of it was just asking for trouble. Parking herself outside the living quarters just across the hall, however, that was more believable. She smiled at her cleverness, before letting out a heavy sigh as she settled into her post.
Pensword waited until he was certain the doors had shut properly, before resuming his narrative. “Right,” he started. “Moon River, I’m not sure of how much of this you will understand, so I’ll just give you this talk when you’re older as well, just in case.”
Pensword was broken off as his two wives suddenly pounced on him, and kissed him on either cheek, while Moon River snuck in a kiss on the top of his head. Afterwards, they returned to their seats, and Pensword cleared his throat to clear the blush as he resumed.
“To put it bluntly, I’m not just your average Pegasus or Thestral.” He sighed, and took a sip of tea. In actuality, I am one of the humans who initially came to Equestria.”
“What?” Cristo balked.
“But how? Dad, you’re a Pony!” Inigo added.
“No way!” Day Moon agreed. Then his brow furrowed as he thought back to the hidden rom. “Wait, are humans military or peace minded?”
“Does that make you an alien? Does Luna know?”
Fox Feather and Lunar Fang giggled as the barrage of questions gradually changed from shock and denial to excitement and curiosity about the biology of Earth, its species, its cultures, and so very much more. The cacophony was intense.
Pensword held up a wing to signal for silence. “Easy, boys. Give me some time to explain.” He stopped as Moon River alighted on the ground, and slowly walked over to him, before touching a hoof to to his flank.
“Daddy,” she said firmly. “Still Daddy.”
This caused the other foals to blush over their initial reactions. Though still young, Moon River had a point. This Pony was still the Pensword they had known and loved, whether he had been human or not. “Sorry,” they chorused.
Pensword chuckled as he pulled all four into a winged embrace. “Not a problem. I would have been more concerned if you didn’t react that way.” He chuckled at the thought. “It’s only natural to have questions, after that kind of bombshell.”
The foals scrunched their faces in confusion, and Pensword facehoofed.
“Sorry. Sorry. It’s an earth term I can explain later. All you need to know now is that it refers to when big or surprising news is suddenly given to you. And now that we have that settled, it’s time for us to begin.” He used a wing to open the first book, revealing the picture from their visit to Earth and the family reunion therein. “The tall creatures in the back there are humans. These humans were my family, before I came to Equestria. Time passes differently between the two worlds, so the things I have to tell you about my adventures may be a bit jumbled.”
“And that’s not including the time travel,” Fox Feather added.
“Um … yes, that, too,” Pensword agreed a bit hesitantly when he noticed the children's eyes widening at the words. He sighed, then laughed. “Let me try to tell you the tale as coherently as possible.” He opened the second book, revealing the alien scrawl that was the English language. “It begins in a time not so long ago, relatively speaking, but a lifetime for me….”
As Pensword launched into his tale, Night Terror was busy writing onto some parchment. More than half the page had been scribbled over, and a tiny pyramid of scrunched up paper balls at her side showed just how many times she had struggled to get a proper beginning. She sighed heavily as she dipped her quill into the inkwell, and began her draft for what felt like the hundredth time in a row.
Dear Big Brother,
I am writing this letter to you, because … I need your advice….
Extended Holiday Chapter 122: A Starfish Tale Act 18
Grif took another slow gulp of his kal’levenah as he waited, once again, on Pensword, but this time he also needed Vital Spark and Hammer Strike. It was tough getting them all at once, so he hoped the messengers found them without any of the Ponies in question stuck in serious duties.
Pensword entered with a flat expression. “Your messenger seemed very insistent. I guess we can’t have a nice day after the New Year's party like others, then?” he asked as his eyes scanned the room, like always.
“Try being a spymaster,” Grif told him. “Then you can complain.” He chuckled as he offered Pensword a goblet.
“Is that the … fire chocolate drink, or the spearmint drink?” he asked as he took the goblet and sipped. “Are we waiting for anypony else?”
“Hammer Strike and Vital Spark,” Grif confirmed.
“You rang?” Vital Spark’s voice called as he stepped out from what appeared to be thin air, then shuddered. “Okay, trick was worth it, but I don’t think I ever want Cheshire to do that again.”
“Shouldn’t have said that out loud.” Grif chuckled, offering Vital a goblet.
Vital sniffed at it curiously, then took a sip. His eyes widened briefly. “This is like Abuelita on steroids.”
“Yes. Well that's after we watered it down to an eighth part. Just imagine what it’s like pure,” Grif said with a laugh.
“That much flavor in one drink could very well send a person’s mind over the edge, and across dimensions.” He shuddered. “And I’m so glad that’s just me being facetious. Can you imagine what it’d be like if that sort of thing were real?”
“The Unicorn tells the Gryphon, while sitting next to the Thestral,” Grif said dryly, then took another sip. “And now we just need the leader of our merry band.”
Hammer Strike entered the room, giving everyone a questioning gaze, before settling on Grif. “So what’s up?”
“How would you feel about a trip?” Grif asked him as he lowered his goblet, then tented his talons.
“What kind of trip are we talking about?”
“The trouble in Gryphonia that postponed the imperial wedding has been dealt with. However, His Holiness is now requesting not only me, Pensword, and our families, but the two of you and yours as well.”
“And did Daedalus explain why he wanted us to come?” Vital queried.
“He’s currently quelling a civil war, and he just heard about that fact that Clover the Clever has taken a relatively unknown Unicorn as a student. Clover was quite prolific during several of the small disputes that prolonged the Second Gryphon War; Starswirl more so in the first battle between Gryphons and Ponies. If you are to inherit the cloak, the emperor would like to have you as his friend.”
“... Why do I get the feeling that even if I protest, I’m still going to have to live with that title?”
“Contrary to popular opinion, Gryphons are rather apt at collecting histories. We have lists of every student Clover and Star Swirl trained, but it’s always the underdog unknown that ends up taking the mantle in the end. In this case, that's you, a Unicorn with no known lineage or greater than average skill.”
“This worries me,” Pensword muttered. “Does that mean Clover is heading over there as well? Also, I have to admit it is rather unsettling just how much your people really know. Their intelligence network must be greater than we anticipated.”
“Oh, Winds no,” Grif chuckled. “They wouldn't let her past the border. And don’t worry. We’ve got counterintelligence taking care of any potential threats there.”
“Oh, so Clover is a no, yet they are going to have Celestia’s Ghost, the Egg Smasher, and the Demon come?” Pensword couldn’t help but smirk at the apparent irony of the situation.
“They respect me and you, Pensword. They’re terrified of Clover, but they are prepared to face her as an enemy. Times have changed. They believe they could overcome her eventually. As for Hammer Strike, that's another story. Daedalus would like the chance to make nice with him, just to prevent an extinction level event.”
“They believe you fought the three greatest battles of the First Gryphon War single hoofed, and you rained fire from the sky during the second,” Grif informed him.
“Huh. I wonder if I actually could do that,” Hammer Strike hummed to himself. “I mean, now that I think about it, it wouldn’t be too hard….”
“This, right here, this is why they believe you could kill us all,” Grif deadpanned.
Hammer Strike raised a hoof to counter, only to lower said hoof and close his mouth. After a moment, he shrugged.
“Anyway, at least Rarity would like meeting the emperor,” Grif offered.
“Most likely, yeah,” Hammer agreed with a shrug.
“Unfortunately, we have to leave by Friday,” Grif added, the fact it was Wednesday notwithstanding.
“Right … I’d better get….” Pensword paused as he thought about the specifics of the invitation, then facehoofed. “I need to pick an actual fourth in command,” he groaned. “I guess I’ll have that taken care of by tonight. I can’t believe this. The entire military high command is going to be off base. Also, are we taking your airship, or will we take more?”
“I’m taking the Gantrithor. You can decide for yourself if you want to use it or not,” Grif told him.
Pensword frowned in thought. “Well, while it would be nice to take the Revelry, I doubt the Gryphons would like to see the ship coming back with my colors. This is Daedalus' wedding, after all.” He paused. “Does this mean I have to bring back Lafeyette now?”
“No,“ Grif said plainly as he shook his head.
“I still can hardly believe just a little over a month ago we literally got the Gryphon equivalent of Washington’s good friend Lafayette appearing. Speaking of which,” Pensword stroked his chin in thought, “Grif, I think I know who is going to be taking command till we get back. He does technically have the proper rank, though I am going to suggest he have Demon Slayers on his temp staff to help him with the quirks.”
“That’s fine,” Grif noted. “But you're going to have to minimalize your guards. Only Gryphons can be allowed on this trip, aside from family members.”
“So what’s the attire, and should I bring Watcher with me?” Vital asked as he pulled out a book on anatomy, and opened to a page outlining Gryphon biology. “I wondered why Clover had this page earmarked.”
“She is smart,” Pensword muttered. “And I know the Gryphons of the Demon Damned are to accompany me. Lafayette is going to keep his troops, as they are currently training all Pony troops on tactics. I think I saw a few of your clan members there as well, Grif.”
“The clan’s big enough that I should be able to get enough to act as crew for the trip. And to answer your question, Vital, this is a Gryphon wedding. Armor or battle garb is part of the dress code. And yes, you should have your weapon with you, and within reach at all times,” the Gryphon pointed out.
“Excellent. Brilliant. This is going to be loadsof fun,” Vital said as he rolled his eyes. “So, I’m guessing I’m going to either need to stick to you guys like glue or have a guard of my own?”
“We’re entering an imperial fortress. What makes you think you would have an opportunity to explore?” Grif asked. “This isn’t some two-bit Maps to the Stars’ Houses tour, Vital. We’re talking about one of my race’s largest, most elite military installations. You’d have a better chance trying to sneak into Knox with a fuchsia suit, while singing the Russian national anthem at the top of your lungs than getting anywhere alone in that place.”
“So guards are a definite yes,” Vital confirmed as he smoothed out the dogear on the page with a hoof. “And will there be any need to be on guard for assassins? I assume it’s best to make sure I get all the bases covered now, before we get into the air.”
“It’s not likely.” Grif shook his head. “This is one of those cases where the law of hospitality applies. None of the emperor’s people would dare lift a talon against his guests without a damned good reason, and they’ll all be the emperor's people.”
“So no risks of a bloody coup attempt, then.”
“Thank integration of church and state,” Grif laughed. “Never thought I’d see a system where it worked to the leader’s benefit. Anyway, we’ll be heading to the empire as soon as everyone’s loaded up. From there, we head to Gryphonia.”
“I guess I’d better go get my armor and gemstones ready,” Vital mused. “You guys need me for anything else?”
“No. You all can go. I have things to take care of anyway.” Grif rose, and stretched. “Oh, and Vital, make sure Trixie gets a new dress.”
Vital jerked to a halt as the magic around his horn died, and his book clattered to the ground with its pages skewed all over the wooden flooring. “Big brother Gryphon say what now?”
“Unless you want to be put up to several awkward sessions of what Gryphon high society considers a date, you’d best have her there with you. Unless, of course, you want little Hippogriffs for children, and potentially devastating scarring, both mental and physical,” Grif chuckled
“... Wow, you can be dark sometimes.” Vital sighed as he levitated the book into his saddle bags. “I guess I’d better go tell Trixie the news first, then. Wish me luck, boys. If you don’t hear from me by tomorrow, don’t come after me,” he said as he scrunched his face up into one of mock piety. “And tell Scarlet I do give a damn,” he quoted in a thick brogue, before making his way towards the door.
Pensword looked confusedly at Grif as the door shut behind the Unicorn. “Who’s Scarlet?”
Grif shook his head. “Not getting into it. If Matthew doesn’t know, then let it go.”
Pensword turned his head, and his mouth dropped in surprise as he noticed Hammer Strike’s distinct absence. “Wow. Been awhile since he’s done that. When was the last time Hammer Strike just got up and left without warning again?”
“Whenever he felt it was time for him to leave.” Grif shrugged. “Look, Pensword. I don’t want to sound mean, but I have three separate stacks of paperwork to finish, a roster to draw up, and several people to talk to. If I don’t get started now, I might not sleep before we leave.”
“Consider me gone.” Pensword snapping out his wings, and flew as fast as they would carry him. He had his own paperwork to file before the trip.
Grif refilled his goblet, and went to work on the stack before him with a weary sigh. At least he’d get away from paperwork while they were gone.
Mid-morning that Friday saw the Gantrithor loaded and ready to set sail. The shipping party watched from the railings as the base and various citizens from Ponyville stood waving or firing off streamers and confetti with heartfelt well wishes. Pensword thought back on the many sendoffs ships had received back on Earth in the 1920s. This reminded him very much of those events. He stood by with with his children, both Pony and Gryphon, and his two wives. Moon River was smiling and giggling from atop Grif’s head.
Meanwhile, Grif balanced his twin daughters between his wings as he checked over his family, assuring for the third time that Avalon and Cheshire where both comfortable. Cheshire was now officially late, and Avalon's due date was fast approaching. He had faith in the healers and medics in the medical bays, should the two go into labor mid-flight, but he still couldn’t help but worry about them. He nodded to Gilda, who he’d assigned to be Avalon’s guard. Shrial was now perfectly capable of fighting, and he had little doubt the Gryphoness could hold her own. All around, Gryphons in black uniforms shouted orders, while others dressed in bright blue or purple raced to execute them.
“So, Trixie, did you lend them some of your fireworks for the sendoff?” Vital asked curiously as he stared over the railing. Watcher held to his back like an old friend, and his saddle bags each held a pair of books that Clover had insisted he carry with him for study during the journey. Trixie stood in her familiar hat and cloak as she cradled a staff of her own in her forehoof. It was a bit more gnarled than Vital’s, and its bark was a richer, deeper brown with a pulsing green crystal embedded at the top.
“The explosive and impressive Trixie may have donated a little something.” Trixie smiled at him as she leaned against him.
“Love the new focus, by the way. The earthy tones are a nice contrast for your fur.”
“It was a gift from Trixie’s uncle. He is ... a unique soul. He taught Trixie how to make fireworks in the first place.”
“He sounds like an amazing guy. If he’s the one who taught you in the first place, I’d love to meet him one day.”
“Be careful what you wish for, Vital Spark,” Trixie answered almost nervously as the ship's horn sounded its takeoff.
“... Do I even dare to risk asking how bad he could be?”
Trixie slapped him. “Do not tempt fate, Vital Spark.”
“... You’re taking a little too much after Clover lately, Trixie,” Vital said as he nursed the throbbing red mark. “And you have a mean right hook. Or is that hoof?”
“Trixie has heard that, more than once, Clover has warned you about tempting fate before,” Trixie noted.
“Hence why I posed as a question, and didn’t actually pose the deadly question in question. … If that makes any sense at all.” Vital rubbed at his mane with a nervous chuckle.
“You really think Murphy is that forgiving?” Trixie asked with a raised eyebrow.
“After all the times he’s been kicking my flank, I think I’ve earned a pass.”
Pensword sniggered. “Never think that. Murphy gives you a pass when he wants to give you a pass.”
Vital sighed. “You know, there’s times where I think I’m just here for the comedic relief.”
“You can’t be,” Trixie said. “The great and wise Trixie couldn’t let her affections fall upon a lowly comedian.”
“Not quite what I meant, but I’ll go with it.” Vital chuckled as he leaned in, and nuzzled the mare a bit hesitantly. “Thanks.”
“Any time.” She smiled back.
Lunar Fang smiled as the camera shutter snapped. “Success! I caught one of Vital’s first nuzzles,” she cheered. She then passed the camera to Trixie. “Okay, so teasing Vital Spark aside, could you take a photo of our family now, Trixie? We want to be able to remember this occasion.” Turning her head back down the ship’s deck, she shouted, “Kahn, get your feathered brothers and sisters over here for a family photo!” Her smile widened into a grin as she walked over to Fox Feather. “Fox Feather, you get over there on Pensword’s left. Moonie, you can be on Kahn’s head....” It took about five minutes to finally get the group set up in an order that pleased the pregnant mare. Many gave silent thanks to Faust and the Winds it didn’t take longer as they all smiled at the crystal camera Trixie held in her magic. A few clicks later, the pictures were taken, and the “family” were able to separate to go about their own business.
Several Gryphons buckled under the weight of the numerous large piles of luggage as they loaded them onto the ship. True to her style, Rarity had packed for every conceivable occasion, and it showed.
“My, this is going to be exciting, isn’t it?” Rarity asked. Her wedding gift from Grif glinted in the noonday sun as she fixed her dazzling smile on Hammer Strike and the rest of the crew at large. Then she sidled up next to the lord, and began stroking a hoof gently up and down his chest. “And with all that travel time here on the ship, well, you and I can have some … special time together, can’t we, darling?”
Hammer Strike smiled. “Most certainly.”
Grif was saluted as he entered the bridge. For the first time since they had acquired the Gantrithor, it now carried a full crew for basic operation.
“Detach docking lines,” he ordered as he took his spot on the taller platform in the center of the room. “Set destination for north by northeast, and set a course for the empire.” The orders were actually little more than a formality by now. The crew knew the itinerary, and how to pilot the ship, but there was something official about saying the words out loud. “Take us at cruising speed, until everyone on the deck gets inside.”
The Gantrithor rose high away from New Unity, its engines humming calmly as they prepared to propel the ship. Once it had cleared the final tower, it turned northward, until it aimed for the Crystal Empire, then began a swift forward momentum. The ship shone in the bright winter sun as it took off. The imperial crests had been replaced with the crests of New Unity and the Bladefeather clan. The air pressure seemed to pop as the inertial dampeners kicked in, and the ship streaked towards its destination.
“Attention, passengers. We are embarking towards the Crystal Empire, currently at a height of twenty thousand eight hundred hooves above ground. We have not yet reached cruising speed, but should within the next five seconds. We can expect to reach our first destination within four hours. When we reach the empire, it will be for the loading of passengers only, so, please, no disembarking. When we debark from the empire, we will be heading straight for Gryphonia. More details about our route will be released at that time. The journey is going to take about three days to a week, due to reasons we feel no need to explain. We will not be using the engines at full speed. Meals will be provided in the mess hall. Should you require a special menu, due to dietary needs, our capable kitchen staff will be happy to assist you. Training, weapons, and exercise facilities are now available on decks six through seven. The library is open from nine AM to eight PM, and the observation deck is open at all times, unless otherwise stated.
“The weapons, engine, and tactical rooms are off limits to anyone without proper security. If you are found there, you will be placed in the brig for the remainder of our trip. If you have any further questions about available amenities, please feel free to ask our staff. If we enter a state of emergency during the flight, and you are asked to return to your room, please do so in an orderly manner. You will be informed when the state of emergency has passed. Our medical bay is operational, and fully staffed with capable medical professionals, so do not be afraid to make your way there for any medically viable reason. We thank you for choosing the Gantrithor[/i[. We know you have a lot of choices in air travel, but none of them will get you to the destination on time or guarantee your security. Now get in the ship!” Grif finished.
“Was that entirely necessary, Sir?” one of the officers asked.
“Nnnope,” Grif answered with a smile.
The Gantrithor sailed to a hovering stop on the outskirts of the Crystal Empire, where Cosy stood waiting on the ground with six trunks’ worth of clothing, armor, gifts, and who knew what else Cadence may have had him pack for the journey. Shining was busy talking to the colt as he lay a hoof on the young Unicorn’s shoulder. The ship reached five hundred hoofs from the ground, at which point Gryphons took flight from the deck to take said luggage, while Grif and Pensword flew down to meet the royal convoy.
Queen Cadence fixed Grif with a glare, while Pensword worked with Shining to secure Cosy on his back for the trip up to the ship. Meanwhile, the other Gryphons had begun carting the luggage up to be stowed.
“If I hear you got him involved in another war,” Cadence said with steely eyes, “I will personally have Shining Armor restrain you while I pluck every feather off your head, before cursing you to have bald spots for the next month. Am I understood?”
The air around Cadence suddenly dropped below freezing as she felt a pair of eyes drilling into her neck. The stare alone was almost painful as the queen turned to find Shrial standing in the center of what had been her royal guard. Now they were just a bunch of sleeping Ponies. The Gryphoness sheathed her blade with practiced ease.
“Oh, I’m sorry, Cadence. I don’t believe I heard that right. You know how pregnancy can take tolls on the body sometimes, even after the babies are born. Could you ever so kindly repeat that statement?” Shrial’s tone was cordial, friendly even. The stare, however, and the way the Gryphoness did nothing to hide her sharpened teeth, made the message quite clear.
Cadence looked at Shiral, and sighed in defeat. “Just keep him safe, okay?” She looked to Grif. “Could you at least deliver this letter to Hammer Strike for me? It’s a request for him to take on Alto as an apprentice when she comes of age. She really wants to become a smith.”
“I will. But if you’re running a country, Cadence, then you should remember the politics of any species you work with. Bellacosa, do Gryphons make threats?”
Bellacosa shook his head.
“Do we take threats?”
Bellacosa shook his head again.
“If she said something along those lines to a political party?”
Bellacosa actually shivered. “She’d better be prepared to back it up,” he answered shakily, “because they won’t hold back.”
“Your brother is a smart kid, and wise beyond his years,” Grif chuckled dryly. “I’ll forgive it, due to our history together, Cadence, but I am a Gryphon clan leader. I give you respect, you give me respect. You do not threaten Gryphons. Understood?” It wasn’t spoken in anger or some kind of cocky humor. That was the worst of it. He spoke to her like a chastising parent.
She stared at him for a time, then sighed, and rose to give Cosy another hug. With that final goodbye, she turned back towards the crystal palace. The party made a note not to ask her about her sniffles.
Shining Armor laid a supportive hoof on Cadence’s back. “She means well, Grif. She’s just a little too overprotective. She nearly mobilized the whole army when she heard what happened last time.” He winced as he watched the fur rise on Cadence’s back. “We’ve … been working on that.”
“Then you know that a stupid threat can cost lives,” Grif replied. “It’s better she learn this lesson from me than from the enemy, or worst of all, from Hammer Strike.”
He nodded his head. “She’ll be better. Just give her time. Plus, if all those years of matchmaking meant anything, she probably did that deliberately, just to see how you’d react to a threat.”
The glare Cadence put Shining’s way could have turned him to crystal.
“Daedalus won’t let him get hurt. He’s too much promise for our species,” Grif assured the stallion. “I have my own family on that ship. You think I’d foolishly bring them along, if I thought otherwise?”
Shining Armor shook his head, even as he rubbed Cadence’s shoulder.
“We should be going,” Grif noted. “Be safe, Shining Armor.”
“You as well. Make sure Cosy writes at least once a week, okay?” he asked as he held out a hoof.
“Of course,” Grif said as he bumped it with a fist. “Just get started on something for the kid. Not now, but in a few years, he’ll need an estate of his own to carry what he’ll bring back.”
The Crystal Ponies have started work rebuilding one of the old manors. We’ll be giving it to him when he gets old enough. It should make a nice home for him and Moon River, assuming she still goes through with the contract.”
“Are you kidding? She already considers him hers. By the time she’s old enough, I think she’ll be head over hooves for him,” Grif chuckled.
Shining Armor smiled. “Thanks, Grif. We don’t want to keep you any longer. Just keep him out of trouble, and maybe let him eat a few extra treats. After all, you’re family. You should spoil him.” He winked, and Grif couldn’t help but chuckle.
“Later, guys,” Grif said as he saluted the couple, then took to the air with the rest of his escort.
The Queen and her consort watched as the airship turned and started its long trek for Gryphonia. Shining smiled as he leaned in to the sulking Alicorn. “So, Cady, let me ask you, are you a fan of Gryphon artwork?”
“Not in the mood right now, Shining,” Cadence growled as she stomped angrily ahead. When they’d gone a few yards, she stopped to turn back at him. “Out of curiosity, why do you ask?”
“I was waiting for the right moment to tell you, but you look like you could use a good pickmeup. Cosy’s helping split up Grask Bloodbeak’s estate. Since he played a part in stopping the coup, and seizing multiple prisoners of war, he gets dibs on some of the valuables.”
“Honestly, what I really need right now is a good drink, and a lie down in bed.”
Shining just laughed. “With Alto away for the week, maybe we can.” He leaned in and whispered into her ear. Cadence’s face immediately became crimson as she laid one of her wings across her husband’s back. “That’s my girl,” he said as he nuzzled her.
“Enjoying it?” Grif asked as he approached where Gilda sat on the deck, watching the clouds pass by. They were over the ocean now, though one could only just make it out below the clouds beneath them.
“It feels strange, being on this, and seeing this,” she replied, waving a wing out over the clouds. “But I’m enjoying it for the most part.”
“This is your first time onboard, huh?” Grif asked, trying to remember if there was another time she’d been on the ship.
“Yeah. This is definitely a first. I never thought I’d even so much as see the flagship flying overhead, to be honest. And yet,” she waved a talon, “you command it like a king. It suits you.”
“Not a king,” Grif chuckled, “but hopefully a stabilizer.”
She chirped coyly. “And yet you’ve gained wealth, prestige, the ear of the emperor.” She stretched her wings. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think Celestia and Daedalus were planning to make you a king of something anyways. You’ve already shown loyalty to the old ways, and it’s been an honor being a warrior in the clan.” She smiled as her tail twitched idly behind her.
“The king system is the problem,” Grif said bluntly. “Kings open the way for corruption, sedition, and trouble. The Emperor is fine, at least in this generation, but his power needs to be more direct.”
Gilda raised a brow. “Do I hear plotting?” she asked coyly, before shaking her head. Her smile turning to a frown. “Grif, I think I’d like to be assigned away from Cheshire. She’s rubbing off me in ways I don’t think I like.”
“You were assigned to Avalon. It’s not my fault if she spends time with Cheshire,” Grif said as he chuckled. “And no; not plotting. It will take centuries to change Gryphon politics. Just observation,” Grif noted. “Besides, where would I put you anyway? The only other open post is janitorial. I suppose if you want that….”
“I … think I’ll take a pass.” Gilda cringed at the thought. Cleaning toilets was not on her strong suit. She huffed folding her arms. “Still, if I need to, can I just stand guard outside the door?” she asked. “That pink one’s the only one who can randomly pop up anywhere, anyways.” She shuddered, and shook her head. “I don’t know if I even want to know how she does it.”
“Pink one?” Grif asked.
“The one obsessed with parties. You know, the Element of Laughter, appears anywhere on a whim, then disappears just as quickly? Heck, if she wanted to, she could get into the emperor's personal bathroom, and leave a cupcake or some other confection without breaking a sweat.”
“It won’t kill him,” Grif chuckled. “He’s sixteen years old, Gilda. If a surprise kills him, then he really shouldn’t have been the first emperor to survive a coup.”
Gilda shook with barely suppressed laughter. “I’m more worried about his guards. They would tear the place apart looking for her. And as I’m pretty sure you already know, if she doesn’t want to be found, she won’t be.” She paused and lapsed into silence as she watched the clouds. “Thanks,” she muttered out of the blue, so softly that it almost was lost to the winds.
“For what?” Grif asked. “I gave you little more than I gave others,” Grif noted. “You and your mercenary group had freedom to leave, if they wanted. I offered to teach you. You chose to learn. Thank yourself, Gilda, because, in the end, anything I did was because you let me.”
She harrumphed to herself as she watched a particularly puffy cloud break in two at the prow to slide beneath the ship’s bilge. “Thank you for giving us the chance,” she finally said, even as she folded her front legs, and avoided making eye contact.
“It was my pleasure. It always was,” Grif told her. “Besides, I needed every high Gryphon I could to hold some standing,” he chuckled. “You know how rare the traditional lion eagle mix is these days?”
“Rare.” Gilda muttered. “Even more so, after what happened to my clan.” She sighed. “Look, Grif. I just … I just hope I can live up to what you’ve done for me, okay? I’m still not used to all this touchy feely nonsense. Acting tough for so long … well … it kinda sticks.”
Grif smiled as he looked on the Gryphoness. She’d come a long way from the hot head who tried to take Rainbow Dash away from her friends. “You already have,” he said simply. “Though I do have a question. Were you always that good with cubs? The girls seem to adore you.”
She shook her head. “Never got the chance, till your cubs. I’m pretty surprised at it myself.”
Grif laid a taloned hand on her shoulder, prompting her to look into his concerned face. “Are you sure you can handle the return to Gryphonia?” He’d been sure to screen the crew to make sure they could handle the return. Most where Equestrian born, but there were a few clanless here, after all, and Gilda fell under that category, even if she had joined the Bladefeathers.
Gilda grinned, and thumped a talon to her chest. “As Rainbow Dash likes to say, I’ll have to face it sooner or later. With my clan leader at my side, it should go okay.” Then the bravado fell away as she lowered her head. “Just as long as we don’t get me too close to the nesting spires, it should be fine.”
Grif’s eyes widened “Your family was thatold?”
Gilda nodded. “Yeah. We were a minor branch, but our family traces back to a single nest in the settlement, before the Diamond Dogs’ betrayal. Might even stretch farther.” She sighed. “I’m not sure if I can handle being there, seeing what remains. One of the other clans has probably moved in, and claimed it. Besides, I lost all rights to it when my family died.”
Grif wrapped a wing around her gently. “We can avoid it,” Grif promised her. “There is no need for you to relive those moments.”
She looked at Grif. “It’s not something I can avoid, Grif. We’re going there. I know we are. It’s where Grask made his estate. Just … just promise me one thing as my clan leader. Promise me that when I do face these places again, you’ll stay nearby, to be the shield on my wings”
“Careful, Gilda,” Grif chuckled. “You may send the wrong signals.”
“Is it wrong for me to ask my clan leader to lend me strength when I’m about to face one of the biggest demons from my past?”
“I suppose it’s just me being foolish.” Grif smiled as he looked down on her. “I promise, Gilda. You won’t be alone when the time comes. I may not always be able to be there physically, but we’ll all support you.”
She sighed, and closed her eyes. “Thank you. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to enjoy the last ten minutes of my off shift here, before I go back to insanity.” The wind rustled her feathers as she lay down to enjoy the spray from the clouds as the wind and sun dried her fur.
Grif couldn’t help but watch her as he left, and nearly collided with one of the crewmen in his momentary lapse.
“Attention to our passengers. This is Grif. We’ll be arriving at our first stop in the Gryphon Empire in about fifteen minutes. Please prepare whatever you will need to disembark, and be ready on the bridge,” Grif said through the intercom as he eyed the landmass in front of them. The ocean was broken by steep redstone cliffs that formed an imposing image, almost like a wall to the forested grounds beyond it. Most Gryphons from this point could make out the image of the mountains standing imposing in the distance.
The Gryphon’s eyes were inevitably drawn to one of the most unique and ancient structures of their history. The nesting spires stood adamantly, just a little ways off to the west. Each was a masterpiece in its own right: a tall, imposing structure reaching for the sky, intricately carved with large circular openings where ancient Gryphons would enter and leave. The visages of eagles looked proudly over their terrain at the top, peering in all four directions. These ancient structures were the only ones of their kind, and had been used long before the clans had formed as a form of communal housing between the most powerful allied families. It was around these towers that the oldest and most prestigious among the Gryphons had formed the first clans, and built the first compounds. Most of these towers had been lost to time, as all things must in due course, but Grif still recognized one or two of them. Battleclaw stood to the east, and Lion Paw to the north. But their target was ten or twenty miles to the southeast. The compound of the now-extinct Bloodbeak Clan home lay there, built into the foot of a mountain, and was surrounded by what, in Grif’s opinion, stood somewhere between a smaller city and a larger village.
Grif had been thankful that it was the Farflyer estate he’d visited with Pensword, and not one like this. The Bloodbeaks were not a generous family, and many Gryphons suffered under their rule. Clan officiates, clan member Gryphons who had left home to live in other areas for various reasons, had been taxed heavily, and usually were cheated out of payment by the Bloodbeaks when their unique skills were needed. Worse yet were the clanless who were unable to pay such taxes, and were mistreated by not only the Bloodbeaks, but even by the officiates who were anywhere from oblivious to the suffering of their fellows to outrightly hostile.
The clanless lived in scraped-together hovels in the slums. They ate whatever scraps they could find, or smaller game they could hunt, being without even a bow to shoot a deer. Grif knew it wouldn’t be a pretty sight to see when they arrived. So, in preparation for this trip, he’d stocked the Gantrithor’shold with as much extra food and other goods as he could manage. One of the first things he had to do when they landed was find a governor who could be trusted to distribute some form of care to the needy appropriately.
It was not as if many would miss the Bloodbeaks. They weren’t actually an ancient family, but had acquired the estate when the old family had fallen on hard times some four hundred years prior. The new owners had been cruel and greedy, and the fact that the bloodline had died in dishonor probably brought many smiles to the locals.
Pensword came up onto the bridge quickly as he looked out among the mountains and valleys. He could feel the age in the air, even at their altitude. Many spirits roamed this place. “Just … how old is this region of Gryphon territory, exactly?” He shivered as he looked over his shoulder quickly. His feathers stood on edge, and his ears swiveled nervously.
“As far back as I can tell? Before the fall. This is one of the oldest places in our history, Pensword. It’s older than the Songbird Rebellion or the Valkyrie Wars.”
“That explains why I feel like I am being watched and judged,” Pensword muttered as he looked about at the towers. “So where are we landing? Also, I can see three airships to the southeast, just sitting there. Are they friend or foe?”
“Do we have an open channel?” Grif asked one of the crewmen, who nodded.
“Approaching vessels, this is the Gantrithor. Please confirm. Are you friend or foe? En ce qui concerne les vaisseaux, c'est le Gantrithor. Veuillez confirmer. Êtes-vous un ami ou un ennemi?” Grif waited for the response.
“Welcome, Gantrithor. We have been told to expect you. His Holiness sends his regards. We are the battleships Nina, Pinta, and Santa Maria. This is Admiral Felipe Robespierre, formerly of the Bloodbeak clan. To whom am I speaking?”
“Grif Grafson Bladefeather and Commander Pensword Hurricane of House Pen,” Grif answered. “How did Grask get a lower eastern kingdom Gryphon under his name?” Grif asked the air as he covered the microphone to prevent anyone else from hearing. When he’d regained his composure, he cleared his throat, and released his grip on the microphone. “I take it we’re clear for approach, then?”
“Naturalment,” Robespierre responded. “Please, please. Proceed. We shall escort you to the clan hall’s air docks.”
Pensword waited for the communication to end. “Be on alert,” he muttered. “I’d better get my children ready, and....” He paused. “Grif, how many airships might Grask have owned?” he asked as he opened one of the communication tubes, and called through it to echo into the ship. “House Pen, report to the port bridge wing. House Pen to the port bridge wing, please.”
“Quite the impressive view out there,” Vital said as he walked in with a windswept mane and his heavier leather armor. Watcher lay on his back as always, waiting to serve its master at a moment’s notice.
“Yes. Well, when you rely on the wildlife, you do your best to keep the land they live in in good order,” Grif noted. “Now, Vital, this is serious. I want you to stay close to a Gryphon at all times when we land. This isn’t the Emperor’s fortress. You’re not protected here.”
“So any Gryphon, or is there a particular guard I should stick close to?” Vital asked.
Grif pointed to the Bladefeather crest on his pauldron. “Any Gryphon with one of these.”
Vital gave a quick salute. “Yes, Sir. Anything else I should be keeping in mind?”
“You have a soft heart, Vital. Try to keep control on it. There are many desperate Gryphons we’re likely to see. Don’t be afraid to give them something, but don’t trust them.”
“Just … how bad are we talking here, Grif? I’ll need to brace myself.”
“Did you know it takes seventeen medium-sized rats per day to keep an average male Gryphon alive?” Grif asked him bluntly. “Because most clanless do.”
“That bad?”
“That bad.” Grif nodded, then turned back to the forward window. They were approaching the mountainside now, and numerous small huts had started dotting the landscape beneath them. They could just make out the different types of Gryphons moving through the air below, only to stop and stare when the massive airship passed overhead. The ship began to decelerate and descend as they drew nearer to their destination. The first thing to catch the eye was the large carved gate that seemed to sink deeply into the mountain. It reminded Vital of the gates of the Lonely Mountain from The Lord of the Rings: large and intricate, yet severely imposing, as if the dark and the madness could swallow you whole. The second thing to catch the eye was a few hundred feet above the gate, a massive artificial plateau on the mountainside that served as the airship dock. Several large golden eagle-jaguar Gryphons were already waiting for the Gantrithor’sdocking cables. In less than fifteen minutes, the ship was secured close enough that the gangplanks could be released. The rest of their group arrived over time as Grif and Pensword stood on the deck with trepidation.
“You okay, old one?” Grif asked as he noticed Kalima’s figure approaching from behind.
Kalima sighed. “I never thought I’d be coming back to this place, Grif. It’s … strange, to say the least.”
“I never thought I’d be coming here again either.” Grif shrugged. “I hope I made the right decision. You can wait here, if you’d like. This shouldn’t take more than a day or two, and the Gantrithor is ready for anything.”
“Will the girls be disembarking with you?”
“Shrial will. I’ve convinced Avalon the only way to keep Cheshire onboard is to stay with her. And the only way I could convince Cheshire to stay onboard was that someone needs to watch Avalon. The twins will come with us. They need to see this, I feel. Something important is in there.” Grif ruffled his wings, looking back to the mountain.
“Dark things hide in dark places, Grif. If you plan to plumb the depths, you’d best be prepared,” Kalima warned.
“I will be,” he promised. “After all, spoils gained with ease have little meaning.”
“I see. I should probably remain here then, at least for now. Cheshire’s a little too close for my liking. I’d prefer to be here, if she starts having contractions.”
“Tell Thalia to start unpacking the red crates, and move them down to the village. Keep them under guard for now. I need to go.” And finally, as if breaking some kind of barrier, Grif moved to the gangplank, and disembarked, stepping onto the cold stone platform.
Pensword, Cosy, his two wives, his four Pony children, and the six Gryphons who now called him Father soon followed. Penswords ears continued to swivel, straining to catch anything, a sound, a whisper, a sigh. Yet all remained quiet as his eyes fell upon the mighty gates, then wandered to view what looked to be some kind of hangar to the right.
“It's for ground docking damaged airships, and doing repairs, primarily,” Grif explained as he followed Pensword’s eyes. “Also, any ships not needed are likely stored there.”
Pensword nodded his understanding. “I can see it being used for his mothballed fleet. Which means….” he looked to Cosy. “Cosy, we need to settle in first with the staff. Then you can find yourself a warship. Okay?” He looked back at Kahn, specifically at his head, where a certain little filly sat. So far, Moon River had been staying with the adults, which was a good thing.
“We also need a governor,” Grif told pensword.
Pensword nodded in agreement. “So where would the governor be located?”
“... Pensword, we need to choose a governor; someone to rule this area.”
“Oh!” Pensword’s eyes widened briefly. “My apologies. I misunderstood you.” He looked back at the lands. “Uh … do you mind if I leave that to you? You know the politics better.” He shuffled his hooves nervously as he looked around. That same feeling continued to prick at him, causing his wings to twitch.
“You’re all armed?” Grif asked, looking around. A quick once over showed that everyone had made sure to arm themselves, either with short swords or longer blades, depending on their preferences. Hammer Strike just stuck to wearing his usual coat, while Rarity wore Seamipper. Cosy had one of his small Gryphon weapons from the coup at his side. Moon River even had her crossbow out at the question.
“Well then, gentlemen, heads up.” Grif tapped Cosy under the chin, until his head was held high. “Shoulders back.” He gently straightened Pensword’s shoulders. “Lets walk in like we own the place.” He looked to shrial, who had taken her place at his side. They nodded in sync, both lifting their left talons, and moving towards the waiting staff members, acting in every way like they deserved all the authority that could be given them.
Pensword moved up with his family gathered at his side as he walked with Lunar Fang on his right and Fox Feather on his left, just a step behind Grif and Shrial as they looked at the place with level expressions. Moon River moved her crossbow about with shifting eyes, as if she were searching for a good reason to shoot, while Kahn and his siblings kept a talon on their weapons to show they would protect their parents at a moment’s notice.
A male Gryphon stepped forward. He was a funny sort of mix, having the body of a cheetah and the head and talons of a penguin. His posture was stiff, and flawlessly straight. His face was blank, and only his eyes gave away a slight unease as the party approached.
“Good day, Master Bladefeather, Mistress Bladefeather, Master Pensword, Mistresses Fox Feather and Lunar Fang, and your assorted youngsters. And a very fine welcome to you, Prince Bellacosa,” he offered in a formal tone. “I am Jarvis, the head butler for the late Grask Bloodbeak. It has been my family’s honor to serve this estate for seven generations. I have done my best to keep the house in order, until you could come to sort it.”
Naturally, this Jarvis triggered Matthew’s memory of a completely different kind of Jarvis from back on Earth. The voice was far too much of a match for it to be a mere coincidence. The Pegasus kept his expression neutral as he nodded his head in thanks, then turned to look at Moon River. The look of stern disapproval stopped the filly in her tracks as she smiled sheepishly, and put away the suction cup dart she’d been loading. Hammer Strike and Lady Rarity walked up to the front as Moon River lowered the crossbow.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t realise you’d be bringing guests. It is a pleasure, Master…?” It was quite clear by the quiver in his voice that the butler suspected who the scarred Earth Pony was, but he needed it confirmed.
“Hammer Strike. And this is my wife, Rarity,” the stallion replied, fixing the Gryphon with a somewhat menacing grin.
Jarvis stopped for a moment, before nodding vigorously, and gulping. “Of course! Master Strike, Lady Strike, I’ll see to it that fine accommodations are made for both of you. Will your butler be taking your bags, or should I have the staff get them?” he asked, gesturing to the gold-maned Unicorn standing next to them.
“That would be Vital Spark, who is not my butler. And I’ll be carrying the bags myself,” Hammer Strike responded flatly.
“Of course, of course. As you wish,” the butler backtracked hastily. “Please, follow me. I’ll see that you all are sorted out.”
Pensword and his wives just nodded their heads and followed the butler into the main clan building. Eventually, they entered a massive entry hall with a grand stone staircase leading up to the second floor at the far end. Another set of stairs rose up on either side of a set of balconies above their heads, leading up to the third floor. The stairs leading up to the fourth floor crossed high over the entry hall. Clearly these stairs had been designed with ground-bound troops in mind. The openings on either side made for easy pickings in the event of a siege, and probably proved useful in battle against Diamond Dogs and other creatures.
Flags of the Empire, the Kingdoms, and the crests of Bloodbeak and others loyal to his cause dotted the walls, interspersed between tapestries that were ranging in size from a small door to as large as a barn. The majority of these, however focused around one Gryphon in particular. The first Grask, legendary first Avatar of the Winds, glowered out at the guests.
Pedestals held pottery and sculptures of varying degrees from ancient times. Off to the left, on the ground floor, pillars and glassware had been painted or tinted a curious shade of pink. Elsewhere, trophies from old battles and conquests sat on display, awaiting their owner’s gloating over his triumphs. What surprised Grim most were three pedestals near the grand staircase. Each bore an artifact from the Third Gryphon War. One was part of a wingblade, which the inscription below claimed had belonged to Pensword. The second item was the hilt of a dagger with its pommel gem missing. Rust and decay had long since claimed the weapon’s life, but it was still a useful piece for display. The inscription below claimed it had belonged to Grif. The third claimed to belong to Hammer Strike: the rod he had used to kill the messenger from the fields of Fillydelphia, part of a set of two. The second lay in the war museum at Fillydelphia.
As the party looked up to the ceiling, they took in the dome at the top, which had been carefully painted in a style after the Renaissance of Earth. Four mysterious figures veiled in wind stood before a congregation of Gryphons. Clearly, this painting depicted the adoption of the Gryphons by the Winds. All manner of carpets dyed in a plethora of colors covered the stone to insulate against the innate cold. Only the imperial colors were missing from the opulent display. Grif had a sneaking suspicion he’d probably find those rugs somewhere in storage.
Pensword looked to Grif. “I feel like I am in an art museum.”
“We’re a long-lived race,” Grif shrugged. “Our past is important to us.”
“Still, I would like to look at those three to make sure that … well, are they authentic?” They stopped at the second floor, and there, facing them was a heavy set of siege armor specifically crafted for Gryphons.
“We own all of this,” Grif told him. “You can box them up, and send them home, if you want.”
“We’ll wait and see.” He had to wait for the two kisses he knew were coming, before he could speak again. He took the time to scan more of the room, and paused as his eyes locked on three doorways. “Grif. Uh, you’ve taught me some words in Gryphic, but … aren’t those our names over those doors? I definitely recognize Demon on the left, and I think that reads Avatar in the middle. As for the last one … well, it’s hard to miss Hammer Strike’s cutie mark.”
“Gryphonia likely wasn’t his final goal.” Grif shrugged. “He probably thought he’d figured out how to kill the three of us, and was ready to attempt a fourth Gryphon war when Equestria was weak.”
“And part of me is betting I’d find my way to the front lines somehow,” Hammer Strike commented idly. “Almost expected.”
They turned to find a more recent piece among the relics, hanging between Hammer Strike’s door and a window. The canvas had been drawn taut, and the dimensions of the painting were enough to analyze each individual portrayed in close detail. The Mane Six hovered in the air, with the elements glowing brightly on their necks and head respectively. A golden light surrounded them as the magic went to work, and the purple Unicorn’s horn blazed with her tiara. Clearly this painting had been commissioned before Twilight’s ascension. The artist had done surprisingly well for one who hadn’t witnessed the magic in action.
On the far right of the hall, a giant painting of Princess Celestia glowered down. Her golden armor glowed white from the heat her power generated, and a red-gold ray shone down as her horn glowed, searing the clouds, and causing them to ignite with its passing. On the other side of the hall, closest to Pensword’s door, Princess Luna stood in her ancient battle armor. The glint of the Ursa bone shone silver under the woven moon. Tiny moon stones caused the orb to glow. The princess’ mighty war hammer hovered in her magical grip as she tossed her head back in defiance. Both portrayals served as a grim reminder just how powerful the two could be. Rarity barely managed to contain the squeal of excitement building in her as she analyzed the weave.
Jarvis gestured formally with his wing. “If you would continue to follow me, your quarters are located at the top of the manor. Though, while I have your attention, I do have to ask, will any of you be sleeping in the old master’s bedroom?”
“No,” Grif told him flatly as he narrowed his eyes. “That madbird poisoned the very air he breathed. We will have nothing to do with his quarters, save what duty requires of us. I will look over his room in the morning, and then it will be sealed up, and never opened again. Is that understood?”
To his credit, Jarvis managed to retain his decorum, despite the harsh ruling on his former master’s dwelling. “Then I take it you would prefer the guest wings?”
“Yes,” Grif nodded curtly.
“Very well. I’ll take you there at once. The servants will be by later with the extra supplies. We had originally anticipated one of you might prefer to take the master’s room for you own. Once you’re properly settled, I can have the staff prepare a meal for you all. You must be hungry, after such a long journey. This way, please,” Jarvis spoke, leading the party ever higher into the tower.
An hour later, the group was preparing to head to dinner, when a Gryphon wearing a white medical uniform raced hastily towards them. It took a minute to realize the Gryphon was one of Grif’s own, since he had neglected to pin the clan crest to his coat.
“What is it?” Grif asked.
“Sir,” the Gryphon panted, “Lady Kalima said to find you immediately. It’s Cheshire, Sir. She’s gone into labor.”
Grif’s reaction was swift, and a true testament to his character and dedication. “Lead the way,” he insisted. He stopped only long enough to address Jarvis and the group. “I’ll catch up with you all when I have news. Go ahead and enjoy the meal without me.” He turned to Shrial. “You coming or staying?”
“And miss the birth of my godson? I should think not,” Shrial said adamantly.
It took almost fifteen minutes to navigate the house back to the dock, and another ten to get through the ship to the infirmary. The room practically vibrated with the screeches and roars from Cheshire, several of which were ancient swears that were not meant for polite conversation. The couple was greeted by Kalima at the door, where Shrial was given a mask, and ushered in. As was tradition for a male Gryphon who was not Cheshire’s husband, Grif was stuck waiting at the door.
“How is she?” he asked the older gryphoness.
“The baby definitely takes after the father,” Kalima said as she shook her head tiredly. “It’s a stubborn thing. The passing hasn’t been easy thus far.”
“Is she okay?”
“Grif, she’s in labor. How do you think she’s feeling right now?” Kalima deadpanned.
“Good point.” Grif sighed, “I guess ... just keep me posted on how it’s going, then.”
“You’d best get some coffee, Grif. I get the feeling this is going to be a long one,” Kalima said as she pulled on her mask, and made her way through the divider to the patient once again. Another Gryphoness’ cry of pain mingled with Cheshires, and Grif couldn’t help but smile a bit. Clearly, someone had been foolish enough to offer a hand to hold.
Grif took a seat in the waiting area, and offered a silent prayer that everything would be fine. Chesire was a good friend, and Kel’leam had died protecting Grif. He wanted to hope both mother and child would come out of this okay. After the first hour or so, Grif must have nodded off, because, quite suddenly, he felt a hand on his shoulder shaking him awake. He rubbed his eyes as the world swam back into vision. “Who’s there? Whats happening?”
“At ease, Grif,” Kalima’s tired voice creaked gently into Grif’s ears. “The baby’s nearly here. It’s finally time for her to push. You should probably make yourself presentable. Cheshire’s going to want to see you, once she’s finished.”
“So they’re okay?” he asked as he rose and stretched, feeling several bones and joints pop into place as he did.
“We won’t know, until it’s over.” Kalima shook her head. “Once the after birth is complete, and she’s had the time to nurse and recover, we’ll be able to give her a proper examination.”
“I’ll go wash up, then.” Grif nodded, then left. When he returned, it was still another hour before he was told that he could finally see her, and it was with much trepidation that he entered the infirmary to approach the cot where Cheshire lay.
“Hey, Chesh,” he offered in a quiet tone as he approached.
“About time you got here, Grif. I thought you were supposed to be the Avatar of Winds. You have to be one of the slowest preeners I’ve ever laid eyes on,” she said with a playful, albeit tired chuckle. A large ball of white fur and wings curled up against her navel, and the sound of sucking could just barely be made out, if he cocked his ear just right.
“Yeah, well they didn’t want me in here, until they were certain you and your baby weren’t going to randomly disappear,” he chuckled. “So this is him? Her?” Grif asked.
“Him,” she said. “He’s got his father’s good looks, and my eyes and smile. A deadly combination, don’t you think?”
“Especially if he takes after his momma in personality,” Grif chuckled. “Thought of a name for him?”
“I was considering naming him after his father, but I don’t think Kel’leam would’ve wanted that. And besides, where’s the fun in it?” Cheshire teased as she ran a talon gently down the infant’s back. “I wonder. Do you have any ideas, Grif? You are insisting on my being the crazy aunt, so that makes you the sensible uncle, or nonsensical as the case may be,” she chortled.
“In Taze’s world, they had a lot of heros they talked about, men of great strength and size, who accomplished incredible feats.” Grif rubbed his chin. “A particular favorite of his was a man from a place they called Ireland. His name was Cú Chulainn. I always felt it had an interesting feel too it: deep, ancient, with just a hint of silliness.” He smiled at Cheshire. “But that’s just a thought.”
“The name’s a tongue twister in and of itself,” she responded. Then she chuckled. “I like it. From this day forward, his name will be Cú Chulainn Hatter Bladefeather.” She cooed gently as she ran a beak through his fur. “My little mad hatter.”
“I’ll make sure neither of you want for anything,” Grif promised. “It’s the least of what I owe you.”
“Careful, Grif. We’ve been known to make some rather … crazy demands,” she said with another playful giggle, even as tears began to streak down her cheeks.
“He was like a brother to me, Chesh,” Grif told her, even as his did his best to withhold his own tears. “That makes you and him family to me. And I take care of my family. You have only to ask for whatever you need, and I will make sure it’s provided to you. Then at least I can repay Kel’leam for everything he did.”
“Considering all you’ve done for us already, Grif, I’m pretty sure you have,” Cheshire said. “But I’ll take that offer to save you face,” she said with a wink.
“That's all I can ask. I should leave the two of you to rest. You’ve both had a long and trying day. I’ll be back to check on you later, okay?”
“Say that like the Terminator, and you’ve got a deal.”
Grif chuckled, and did his best to repeat the sentence in a convincing accent.
…
It wasn’t very good, but it allowed the pair to leave on happy terms, and gave Cheshire something to smile about, which was probably a good thing right now.
He met Shrial on his way out, and the two exited the infirmary together. They had a hearty breakfast in the Gantrithor’s kitchens, before heading back to the estate. It was time to have a little fun.
“Are you sure you wish to handle this now?” Jarvis asked the group of surprisingly eager faces as they stood before the very large reinforced doors that led to the the Bloodbeaks’ private armory. “Wouldn’t you prefer to dole out the gold and jewels, or perhaps inspect your new airships first?”
Pensword looked to Cosy. “We picked straws. War Prince Bellacosa got to pick the first location. As you might imagine, the armory was at the top of his list.” He looked to Jarvis. “You know how foals can be.”
“Of course, Sir,” Jarvis said flatly. Pensword’s own excitement was written quite plainly on his muzzle.
“I thought it’d be cool. Besides, Grif said he needed something special for his collection. I figured we could look at something we all liked first,” Cosy said as a blush rose in his cheeks.
“I don’t see a problem with seeing the weapons first,” Grif said. His own excitement was just as evident, if not more so as the butler began the complicated process of opening the lock. It took several keys in well-hidden, strategic locations, but, eventually, the doors opened outwards, revealing a sea of polished gleaming swords, daggers, axes, maces, halberds, spears, as well as crossbows and bows, slings, javelins, and many other implements of death. Some were placed in large groups on racks. These were less fancy, and seemed to be made for the more common foot soldiers and guards. Other weapons had pedestals and wall mounts all their own, and were intricately detailed and designed, clearly part of the clan leader's personal collection.
“So, who enters first?”
“You are the technical owners now,” Vital pointed out. “Maybe you three should go together?”
“Thanks for volunteering,” Grif said, and shoved Vital into the room without ceremony.
“Gee. Thank you so much,” Vital said as he rolled his eyes. “Would you like some extra mushrooms with that troll sandwich?”
“That probably sounded better in your head,” Grif told him as they began filing into the room.
“You know, if a certain item you’re looking for is here, Rarity might be the best equipped to find it,” Vital pointed out. “She does have a knack with gems.”
Pensword didn’t stick around to hear. Instead, he chose to follow Cosy around as the young prince wandered through the trove, examining the various weapons and their craftsmanship.
Grif retrieved one of the blades from the wall mounts. He examined the intricate hilt that seemed to resemble a polished metal ribbon. Tiny sapphires and emeralds had been placed into the hilt, forming the familiar symbol of the South Wind. “This is one of the Silviril blades,” he commented as he examined the edge more closely. “There’s only been six of these ever found, and they’re all in museums.” He retrieved the scabbard that hung under the mount, and sheathed the blade in a flourish, before turning to Shrial. “For you, my lady.”
“Well, she did approve our union,” Shrial said as she took the sword, and tied its scabbard around her waist. “Not bad. Not bad. It certainly carries well enough,” she commented as she strolled around the floor. “How do I look?”
“As beautiful as the dawn,” Grif told her. He turned to the mounts, and began taking stock of what was there, making sure to remove certain blades as he recognized them. With each new find, he gave them to servants who would carry them to the ship for storage. Gryphons were not known for many magical weapons, but they had a fondness for collecting such weapons from other races. Not all of these weapons could instantly be trusted.
Deeper in the armory, Pensword’s roar detonated the silence. “GRIF! I want this open now!” The rest of the group took a moment to gape at one another over the surprising break in character for the commander, before making their way over.
When the group arrived, they found Pensword glaring at a glass display case showing off a collection of daggers and arrowheads from the Crystal Empire. In the middle of the display, raised up on a silk pillow, was a blue scabbard bearing the mark of a snowflake with a crystal heart etched in its core. The pommel on the scabbard glowed as a bright blue light etched the symbol of Cosy’s cutie mark into the crystal.
“That’s the sword Grandpa made for me,” Cosy gasped. “What’s it doing all the way out here?” he wondered. “And how’d a big meanie like Grask get ahold of it?” He frowned. “Sombra must’ve gotten rid of it when he came into power. He always was jealous how Grandpa liked us more.” He put his hoof up to the glass, and smiled sadly. “Hey, Little Flame. Glad to see you remember me.”
“It’s likely it was taken by a sycophant looking to get a reward,” Grif said as he ran a talon across the case, leaving a deep score in it, before he hit the area with a mace. The inner piece shattered, leaving the other frame intact. “Everyone takes spoils from war, Bellacosa,” he said with a shrug, “even Crystal Ponies.”
“Can I have my sword back now?” Cosy asked.
Grif chuckled as he picked the sword out from the shards of glass, and handed it to the colt. Cosy hugged it like an old friend, before finally strapping it in at his side.
“Thanks, Grif. You’re the best. Feel free to take a couple of the daggers and arrowheads for your collection, he said with a smile. “Getting my sword back is more than enough payment, not to mention everything you did for us back then. I’ll pack up the rest to take home to the museums.”
The sound of a thud interrupted them. When they turned to the source, they discovered Daymoon was holding a sword, and swinging it against a wooden post as his brothers watched, only for the blade to bounce off harmlessly, despite the obvious edge on the weapon.
“Where did you find that?” Grif asked the colt as he approached, and took the blade from him.
“On one of the wall mounts, but it won’t cut anything,” Day Moon complained.
Grif examined the blade. It was a falchion, a wider blade with a curve near the tip, crafted from silver, and polished to a mirror finish. Ancient Gryphic runes covered both sides of the blade, but they were so tiny and intricate that it was hard for Grif to make them out. The cross hilt was curved in an S-like fashion, with one curl facing toward the blade and another towards the sword’s hilt. The handle was wrapped in a dark material that seemed like leather, but was most decidedly not leather at the same time. It was black, not the almost black most people took for black, but true black, black enough that looking at it seemed to pull you into the dark abyss. The pommel was a thin piece of silver with a large tear-shaped glowing silver stone embedded into it.
Vital Spark whistled. “Now that’s what I call some fine craftsmanship.”
“Krackakalam,” Grif read as he squinted at the runes on the blade. “Sta’lock kalarma shevintosh, castosh…” and at that, Grif stopped. His pupils dilated as his eyes widened. His hands began to shake, and he nearly dropped the sword.
“What’s the matter, Grif?” Pensword asked nervously as his eyes darted between the Gryphon, the sword, and Day Moon.
“‘Shadowsbane,” Grif translated in an almost dead tone. “Let the hand of the wielder always be true, by honor of the the ... well, there is no proper Equish equivalent, but the closest would be, ‘by honor of the seven blades of eight, nine forged. This blade is the sixth.’”
Day Moon looked at the blade, then to Grif. “What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked.
“Before our peoples’ fall, and if myth is correct, just after the fall of the Alicorn Empire, our greatest minds realized that magic was becoming a trouble. Sure, we had it, but only through the proper rituals. The developing Pony tribes had it, the Kitsune had it, the Kangaroos had it in their own fashion, even the sphinxes had it, back when they were still alive. With all these races that could access and utilize magic so easily, It was decided a measure must be taken, an equalizer to keep the second born above such weaknesses. Eight master smiths and eight master evokers were chosen. Each was given whatever material they requested, and together, they each forged a blade in their own style. Each sword was to be a hedge against one of the supernatural forces. Mana, magical fire, magical thunder, etc., etc. Each blade was created as the bane of the existence to one type of magic. The sixth is this sword, Shadowsbane, the bane to all that are sustained by dark magic.”
As he continued to narrate, the tremors lessened, and Grif able to regain some of his composure. “This sword is evidence of a time when we Gryphons were skilled enough to have our own style of weaponry. It is a relic of unknowable value, and it’s sitting here in this Winds damned armory!” he finished with a justified shout.
“So it only cuts dark things?” Day Moon asked.
Grif shook his head. “It will cut anything well enough. It simply prefers dark things, but the blade’s still dormant. It has no master, so it hasn’t woken up.”
Pensword raised a wing. “That means that till then, it won’t work?”
“Exactly.” Grif nodded. “I’ll need to keep this with me, until I figure out what to do with it.”
Pensword nodded. “I’ll go look in the Pony weapons. I think I saw a spear that might prove useful,” he muttered. His eyes locked on the blade and its pommel, and he shook his head to stave off the instinct to shudder. Something about that thing was giving him a case of the willies. He walked away, but not before he counted twice more he was looking at that tear shaped stone. He paused. “Grif, they have an obsidian blade! This came from the Wolf Clan….” He pursed his lips as he narrowed his eyes in determination. “I’m taking it back to them, Grif. This, and any other Thestral weapons we come across.”
“Of course.” Grif nodded his understanding.
It took the rest of the day to sort through the armory and divide the spoils.
The group stood in front of the open doorway. It was more of an arch, really, with the sides of the doorway carved to look like fluted pillars painted to match Hammer Strike’s fur in color. A series of torches began to light up on their own as they entered the room, revealing paintings, murals, and various books and artifacts on pedestals. Equipment and machinery dotted the floor. In the middle of the rather sparsely decorated wing was something of an oddity, a printing press with an engraved plaque that had been attached to a pole next to the machine. The message had been written in both Gryphic and Equestrian.
“Uh, why’s this plaque written in Equestrian?” Pensword asked as they gravitated toward the machine, taking in the various murals and tapestries along the way.
One in particular showed Hammer Strike standing his ground in the fields of Fillydelphia, right in the act of killing the enemy commander. Next to it, another mural lay in wait with a little plaque below it that read The battle of the Melted Fortress. Further investigation revealed more scenes from battles Pensword didn’t recognize, meaning they must have come from the first and second Gryphon war. What was most worrisome to the friends, however, was yet another mural portraying a burning mansion. The smoldering corpse of a single dead Unicorn lay at the doors to the estate with scores of Gryphon corpses littering the ground with their wings torn off. The plaque below read Flame’s Fall.
“Despite my best efforts, that damned name remains,” Hammer Strike grumbled.
Further investigation revealed several weapons that Hammer Strike had forged lining the walls. Nothing of his higher quality, fortunately. They were obviously mass production pieces that had been distributed to the guard. Pedestals further down displayed higher ranking weapons. These were far more refined and well maintained, showing less signs of age.
“How did he get so many of your weapons?” Inigo asked as he peered at a particularly sharp falchion, then flew to a massive buster sword.
“Some of them aren’t mine,” Hammer Strike clarified, before pointing towards a few in particular. While these weapons indeed bore his mark, certain details were missing: a gem in a pommel, asymmetrical wing engravings. Some were even missing the wings altogether.
“Oh.” Inigo was silent for a time, and fidgeted with his hooves, before he finally screwed up enough courage to speak. “Uh … can I play with these forgeries for training, then?”
“As long as they won’t kill or seriously harm, I don’t see an issue,” Hammer Strike shrugged. “Though you might have to ask someone else as well.”
Inigo turned to face his adopted father, who was studying the printing press with great curiosity.
“So long as I am in the training room with you, that is fine by me.”
Inigo grinned.
“Uh, guys, you might really want to come look at this press. If the Equestrian translation is true, then this is one of the first printing presses ever made, and it has Hammer Strike’s logo on it!”
“They were using my mark?” Hammer Strike raised his brow, intrigued.
“It’s over here, on the side. Assuming it can be verified by you, then that means this press is actually yours. You built the first press,” Pensword said excitedly. Then he leaned in to examine the upper and lower cases that had been set up. Each had been filled with Gryphic letter dies. “They must have the original Equish letters around here somewhere,” he grumbled.
“I … don’t believe I’ve made one? Who knows. Perhaps I forgot about it or something.” He shrugged, unsure of what to think. It was possible, considering all the years he had bouncing around in his head, after all.
“Or you could have yet to make it,” Lunar Fang pointed out as she also examined the machine. “Either way, I think this belongs back at New Unity.”
“This one will take some time to pack up,” Grif noted. “These things weren’t actually designed for easy transportation.”
“Just remind me later, and I’ll help move it,” Hammer Strike said.
“You’ve got it,” Fox Feather replied as she looked at a tapestry of a downright terrifyingly angry Hammer Strike. Black clouds gathered in the background, though a closer inspection revealed they came from a glowing red light in the background. A massive anvil stood next to him with a glowing lump of metal as lightning struck it from his…. “Uh, why did they give you wings and a horn here?” She paused. “Oh, wait. This legend says you’re the son of the Alicorn of the Forge.”
Hammer Strike shrugged. “Plenty of legends and myths follow after me. Only some of them are actually true.”
“Yeah, we know. The real question we should be asking is how much of this stuff do you actually want to bring back? I’m sure Vital here has a copy spell he can use on the murals,” Pensword replied with a straight face.
Hammer Strike shrugged. “I don’t really care. I personally don’t want to be surrounded by images of me.”
Pensword looked to Grif. “What you want to do with it, then?”
“Sell it, burn it, bury it. I honestly don’t care,” Grif said with an easy shrug.
“I guess we’ll keep it here, then, and decide its fate later,” Pensword muttered.
Cosy was busy scrutinizing the image with the burning mansion. “Um, Hammer Strike?” he asked somewhat uneasily, “why are you burning down one of your fellow nobles’ homes in this picture?”
Hammer Strike let out a heavy sigh. “That was House Flame,” he started as he did his best to reorganize his thoughts and memories into something that would be more appropriate for the foal and present company. “It was a horrible noble house, full of crooked money and crooked Ponies. There were plenty of things that led to their downfall: treason, theft, selling information and Ponies alike without a care for whose lives they were destroying. They even sold information on where I would be to Gryphon assassins, who drugged me and dragged me to a fortress to beat information out of me. When everything came to light, I personally led the assault on their manor, burning it to the ground with the current head of the house, a deplorable stallion by the name of Promethean Flame, inside.”
“And I slaughtered his bodyguards before they could interfere,” Grif noted with a mixture of sadness and pride in his tone.
Anger and sadness mingled together on Cosy’s face as he looked up at the tapestry. The ghosts of the war in the Crystal Empire mirrored the flames that crackled in the embrasures on either side. “So he was like Sombra, then.” A well-timed sneeze gave him the opportunity he needed to wipe his eyes, before looking back up at the tapestry. “He got what he deserved, then, in the end, didn’t he?”
Pensword draped a wing gently over the colt’s back. “Yes, Cosy. He did.”
“I’ll never be like them,” Cosy said as he turned to nuzzle beneath Pensword’s wing.
Pensword pat the colt gently on the back. “I know you won’t, Cosy. I know you won’t.”
“Hammer Strike,” Lunar Fang called out, “Isn’t this one of the wall supports from Fillydelphia?”
He briefly studied it, before nodding. “Yeah, it is. Why do they have it?”
Lunar Fang looked at the board, but frowned. “Grif, can you come translate this? It doesn’t have any Equish.”
“Salvaged during the renovation of Fillydelphia, placed during the Third Gryphon war by Lord Hammer Strike,” Grif read off.
“Well, I guess this could be a donation to the Equestrian War museum?” Pensword suggested.
“Unless Hammer Strike’s emotionally attached to a large rotting pillar,” Grif chuckled.
“Sure.” Hammer Strike rolled his eyes at the idea, before glancing back at one of the bookshelves. “I really want a large rotting segment of wood for my office. It’d make a great scratching post for El Fluffy.”
“Well, if you’re going to cry about it,” Grif laughed.
There was a knock at the door as Jarvis proceeded to enter. “Ahem. Dinner is ready, Sirs, Ladies,” he announced formally.
The dining hall was massive, carved of the stone from the mountain around them. It was at least a quarter mile from end to end, with a large sloping roof hanging over them, and ten large columns running in two parallel lines to each other a hundred feet apart. Each was mounted with a large brass fitting that held a torch. Between the pillars, a long rectangular table stood covered in a red-and-gold velvet tablecloth, it apparently had been the only one that didn’t brandish the Bloodbeak crest on it. Several large golden candelabras were set along the table, giving the room excellent lighting.
The places were set with an entire set of formal flatware and cutlery, right down to dessert spoons and salad forks. The plates were silver with floral gold filigree covering the edges. The silverware was carved with the bloodbeak family crest and polished to a mirror finish. Two large crystal goblets, a champagne flute, and a smaller crystal glass of water were in front of each placing.
“This is what you guys ate on last night?” Grif asked. “One of these is probably worth enough to feed a village for a year.”
“Yeah … I don’t think any of us are used to these kinds of fine dining settings,” Pensword answered as he looked at his place setting. “I mean, well, you are right on that.”
“Maybe we should donate the plates to charity.” Grif chuckled at the momentary stagger in jarvis’s step as the first course was brought out.
“It’d be one way to get some money flowing,” Hammer Strike commented.
“And based on what you’ve told me, the people of this kingdom could use a little back pay,” Vital agreed.
“We still need to find someone to govern this area,” Grif noted as he ate the soup. “We can’t leave this place alone.”
“Well,” Fox Feather spoke as she settled in, and began to eat the first course of the meal, “I would say that we should keep our eyes open. Then we can make our choice at the end of the week, once we’ve had the chance to learn more about about the Gryphons living here.”
“Probably for the best,” Grif agreed. “So, Hammer Strike, thoughts on what you’ve seen so far?”
“It’s … different,” Hammer Strike shrugged. “I haven’t seen too much, to be honest. It’s just been the inside of this building. Kinda hard to judge just based on one place.”
“We’ll make time to see the village tomorrow,” Grif told him. “I think it would be best if we split up for that.”
“That’ll make things interesting….”
“Indeed. Kahn, you go with Vital and Trixie. Make sure they don’t get into too much trouble,” Pensword ordered. He looked at all the others sitting and enjoying the meal. “Vital, Trixie, what do you think of eating in the home of one of our enemies, and experiencing what a Gryphon King lived like?”
“Um … it’s … nice? I … don’t really know how to respond to that,” Vital said truthfully.
“Trixie feels that she has finally found the style of life to which she should be accustomed,” Trixie said in an exaggeratedly prim, proper tone, making it clear she was joking.
“Didn’t you live this kind of life before we met once?” Vital teased.
“No,” Trixie answered
“Not even when you were wearing a certain piece of jewelry?”
“Trixie though we were not going to bring that up,” she asked curtly.
“Not even for a playful tease?” Vital asked as he raised his brows up and down with a playful smile.
Fox Feather giggled behind a wing. “You’re learning, Vital. Well done.”
Just as they were finishing the main course a half hour later, there was a knock at the door, revealing a very familiar, out of breath orderly.
“Sir….”
Grif was gone.
“Well,” Pensword said as he looked to the staff. “Save some desert for Grif for after the child is delivered, okay?” The wait staff just nodded with wide eyes as they cleaned up the parts of the table the sudden wind had messed up, then relit the candles Grif’s exit had blown out. “So … do you think it’ll be a boy or a girl?” Pensword asked as he sipped casually from his goblet like nothing had happened.
“How is she?” Grif asked Kalima for the second time in three days, but this time the tone was more desperate as he worked on getting the mask on.
“Aside from crooning after you, things appear to be running rather smoothly,” Kalima said with a playful wink.
“How long ago did it start?”
“About the same amount of time it took for the messenger to get you, give or take a minute or two for your return trip. I think you may have broken the sound barrier with that one.”
“I missed the twins. I won’t miss this one,” he said determinedly as they entered the infirmary. The medics rushed about, prepping for the birthing as Grif made his way over to the expecting mother. “Hello, my heart,” he called to her. “Always with the surprises with you.”
“Of course. We wouldn’t want you getting complacent,” Avalon shot back. “May I take your hand?”
Grif gave it to her, praying that it would still be operable afterwards. “How are you feeling? Are you in pain?” he asked.
“Not too much so far. It’s possible the Winds just love me.” She grimaced slightly. “Or it could be the little one was waiting to troll me,” she grunted as she squeezed her husband’s hand.
Well, you are the mother,” Grif said as he gave her a smile.
“... I’ll give you that one, but only because I’m in labor,” she teased, then took a series of short, intense breaths as the contractions began to quicken.
“I’m right here with you,” Grif said as he put on a brave face, and smiled to hide the wince. “We’ll ... get through this together.”
“Good, because after this is over, I’m keeping you here all night,” she said adamantly.
“You're going to have something to show off to your family at the wedding,” he chuckled.
“Father will be pleased.” She giggled. “Mother and my sisters will probably spoil him rotten.”
They didn’t get a chance to talk again for a while. Avalon was a little preoccupied squeezing the life out of Grif’s hand, and giving birth, of course. It was a full two hours and one afterbirth later before the couple was presented with their son, a small ball of down and fur that was white with black specks across, as though someone had taken a paintbrush and flung the spatter on him. He had the same owl face as his mother, but his father’s piercing blue eyes.
“He’s beautiful,” Grif said as he looked on the cub. “Did you have a name in mind?”
“I was thinking Tazeer. We can call him Taze for short,” she said with a hint of a smirk.
“Always the clever one.” He chuckled as he kissed her and the cub. “Tazeer, my son, may your name cause your enemies to shudder, and your friends to rejoice. And may they sing songs of you from now till time’s end.” He placed a talon gently on the babe’s forehead.
“You know you love it,” Avalon returned. She smiled down at the cub, and cooed gently as she held him to her chest, where the cub snuggled up, yawned, and then fell asleep. “I guess I’d better hasten my studies at this rate. If little Taze here develops the gift, he’s going to need some proper training.”
“I’m going to go send a messenger to tell Shrial the good news. I’ll be back later.” He kissed her forehead one last time, before turning to leave.
“You’d better, Grif. Otherwise, little Taze and I might just put our heads together to find the best way to get back at you,” she said in a teasing tone. Her eyes glinted with just a hint of malicious mischief.
Grif chuckled as he made his way past the divider. “Winds, I love you, Avalon.”
“Jarvis … is this what I think it is?” Grif asked. A few minutes ago, while the group were exploring the compound, they found a large ebony stone door. It was covered in runes and old Gryphic text. Small cracks had developed in the stone, and were pulsing a sickly green.
“Um, this door has been sealed since before the Bloodbeaks acquired the estate. Master Graf was always obsessed with it,” the butler gulped.
Pensword shivered as his feathers bristled. “I do not like this,” he muttered darkly. “I may be a Pony, but this just screams bad things to me.” He shook his head, and sputtered. He could almost hear a whispering in the stillness, and that frightened him. He looked to Grif, then began running through the Battle Hymn of the Republic in his mind.
“Go no further, Pensword,” Grif said darkly. “And all of you Ponies here, draw the horseshoes from your feet. You stand in the presence of a fallen god.”
Pensword gulped in horror as he stepped out of his horseshoes, Fox Feather and Lunar Fang soon followed suit, as did the rest of the gathering. The foals didn’t have any shoes to remove, so they waited on the side for the others to finish. “I think it is safe to say you are taking lead here, Grif.”
“This is an altar to the Dark Gale, Pensword. It holds a piece of his being inside it, sealed away,” Grif explained.
Pensword’s eyes widened as he recalled the events at the battle of the evoker’s castle. “Grif … what do we do? Anytime I have seen hints of this thing, you go crazy.”
“Any who have spilt blood should not enter that room,” Grif said adamantly. Then he turned his piercing gaze on the butler. “What did your master hide in there, Jarvis?”
“I … I assure you I have no idea what you refer to, Master Bladefeather. Master Bloodbeak would never be so blasphemous as to use such a shrine as a hiding place for some lowly treasure.”
Grif grabbed the butler by the lapels, and held him, so he could look into his eyes. “Something important then.” He caught the butler’s eye twitch. “Something powerful. Something he knew I’d come for, perhaps?” Another twitch. “Something I’d want?”
Jarvis said nothing.
“Something I’d need?”
Another twitch.
Pensword paused as he looked around. “Grif,” his voice was tinged with the fear of a worried parent. “The foals are missing now!”
Grif released the butler, and approached the door. It pulsed angrily as he drew close. He attempted to touch it, but it repulsed him with red lighting that he quickly dodged. He searched around, and upon finding a loose pebble, tossed it towards the door. Rather than being repulsed, it passed right through the stone as if it were a mere illusion. “Damn it. Of course,” Grif swore. “Children haven’t spilt blood yet. They could go through.” Grif pointed to Bellacosa, who stood by the door rubbing a lump on his head.
“Yes, Bellacosa is considered a stallion in Thestral culture,” Pensword responded. He knelt down, and began to mutter a Thestral prayer of protection for the foals.
“May the South Wind preserve them, and give them strength,” Grif offered as he watched.
Lunar Fang just shivered as she began to pace, keeping her eyes on the door as she kept her mind off what could be happening in the passages beyond.
“Why would they do this?” Grif growled in frustration. “We could have figured something out later.”
“Moon River,” Pensword replied “She sees a door, she likes to try to find out what’s behind it, and the three sons are trying to keep her safe, so they most likely followed her.
The adults could do little but wait there tensely, until, finally, after what seemed like ages, the stone rippled as four figures made their way back out into the sun.
Lunar Fang descended on them. “Where were you? Did you have to go off to explore? Moon River, you know better then to run off like you did. And you three, you should have stopped her, not follow her in! Did you even know what that could have done?” She grabbed them all in a hug, and kissed them on their heads as tears ran down her cheeks. “Don’t you ever do that, ever again! Ask next time.” She paused as she looked to Day Moon, and her eyes widened. “WHAT IS THAT?” she practically shrieked.
Pensword just gave a disappointed look to his children, while Lunar Fang continued to wail off on the four. Fox Feather wisely kept back, letting the head mare of the herd do her work.
Grif approached cautiously, then gazed intently at the item the foal held on his back. “Where did you get that?”
Day Moon looked at the item on his back. “It was lying on the ground, and it looked like it was just sortof tossed in there, so I picked it up. It felt ... happy, if that makes sense. I think something in there didn’t like that I had it on, though, but it couldn’t do anything to stop us.”
The item glinted in the sunlight as Grif drew nearer. It was a small buckler, made of polished white metal with gold edging. More gold moved inwards, forming rounded intersecting lines to give the resemblance of an eye. At the very center, glimmering brightly where the pupil would be, was a single topaz. Grif drew his bow, and compared it the ruby. The two were identical in all but color. “May I see it?” he finally asked.
“Sure.” Day Moon shrugged the buckler off his back with his wings, and handed it to Grif.
“I am guessing it is important?” Pensword raised a brow as he looked to Jarvis, wondering if this was in fact the item Grask had hidden from Grif, and likely from all Gryphons who would seek it.
Grif turned the buckler over, and looked inside. Intricately placed runes pulsed within, running along the same lines as the eye. Light poured through them every few seconds. “That confirms it. This is the Eye of Agoran, the buckler made with the final gem from the crown, the topaz,” Grif explained. “It is said that this shield could block a thousand blows without so much as a dent.”
Day Moon was shocked as he looked back at the room, then back to Grif. “Uh … you want to trade?”
“Do you realize how valuable this is?” Grif asked.
“Yes, and I’m asking for something just as valuable. I want Shadowsbane. You let me have it, and you get to have the last piece of the crown,” he replied. “Is that fair?”
Grif laughed. “You barter like a Gryphon.” He reached into his pack, and summoned the blade from the mass of space within. “Hold out your hoof, Day Moon.”
Day Moon did as instructed. “Like this?”
There was a flash as Grif drew a stiletto, and made a small cut to Day Moon’s hoof. “Unfortunately, the choice isn’t mine to make,” he said as he unsheathed the sword partially, and held Day Moon’s hoof to it, smearing the blood on both the blade and the crossguard. The blade began to glow and hum, and the metal around the blood turned white hot.
Day Moon remained silent as he watched the blade intently.
The blood boiled against the surface. Finally, there was a bright flash. When it faded, the crossguard and the sheath both bore the crest of Day Moon’s biological father. As a final touch, a series of clearly visible letters had engraved themselves across the exposed blade. It read Day Moon Shadowsbane.
Day Moon smiled. “So, it accepted me, then?” He looked at the blade as his eyes were drawn to the tear-shaped stone. “What do I do now? Train with it?”
“That will be all well and good, young master, but the sun is still up. Please keep it down,” a surprisingly uptight voice penetrated the air, before Grif could respond.
Day Moon looked to Grif worriedly. “Of … of course,” he whispered as he put the blade away fully, and did his best to tie it to his waist.
Grif chuckled. “I forgot to mention that. When they were first crafted and enchanted, these blades were given the edge of sentience, the mentality of infants. But that was millennia ago. They have aged since then. Be ready, Day Moon, for sentient weapons are by far the harder partners to bear. Now, if you would. The buckler?” Grif extended an expectant taloned hand.
Day Moon immediately presented the armor piece. Grif then removed his left pauldron, and placed it on Day Moon’s shoulder to replace the buckler. It was a bit large for the colt, but he would grow into it. Lastly, Grif mounted the buckler on his now-bare shoulder. The topaz shone with a peaceful golden light as it refracted the sun’s rays.
“I told you you would need to show me your metal. I didn’t expect to see it so soon.” Grif chuckled. “You have a lot to learn in the ways of common sense, but you have heart, Day Moon. I’ll make a hunter out of you yet.”
Pensword nodded in approval. “I’ll give a pointer or two, but you’d better listen to that sword as well. Just ... try to keep sneaking out to a minimum. Please?”
“Jarvis, have someone seal this chamber. I don’t care how it looks. I want it inaccessible,” Grif ordered.
“Yes, … Sir,” the butler replied reluctantly.
“Good,” Pensword muttered, looking at the cracked wall. “Come on. Let’s clear out now. Move, you four. Come on. Follow Cosy’s lead.”
After a roll of a die, the party chose to enter the room dedicated to Pensword next. Jarvis had explained each of the three doors represented the three heroes and the threats they represented to the empire and Grask’s supposedly future rule. Surprisingly, this room was divided into two main segments. The left held portraits, tapestries, and documents portraying Pensword in his worst light: the slayer of Gryphons, destroyer of fortresses, bringer of death. In short, the Demon. The right, surprisingly enough, showed the Pegasus in a kinder light. Some of the paintings even seemed to praise his actions during the war, rather than condemning them. The back of the room was covered by a great canvas with a pillar in the middle that held up a full portrait of the commander in full battle array. Above the canvas, a small sign read, Thestral Library. Pensword raised an understandably surprised brow. “Grif, I thought Gryphons feared me.” He paused as he began to think. “Rommel?” he asked in Draconic.
“Respect,” Grif corrected him, “just like they respect any formidable opponent.”
“Right,” Pensword muttered. “I guess….” He paused a moment to gather his thoughts. “So I guess I am like Rommel.” He gave a light chuckle. “Well, let’s just explore a bit, and see what we find, then.” A bright red blush rose to his cheeks as he received a double-team kiss from his two wives in reaction to the contraction. Then he grinned. “Well, I guess I’d better start on the right side.”
As they searched the room, Grif found himself stopping in front of a portrait by a Gryphon artist named Gharenen Crackbeak. According to the information Grif had gathered on the male, he was an artist known for … unconventional muses. It seemed to be a portrait, but of a Gryphon Grif had never seen before. It was a male, sitting for a military portrait. He wore the old fashioned dress armor of the empire during the Third Gryphon War, with all the trappings of a field commander. His mix was an osprey and an ocelot with dark blue feathers and fur. His crest and the tips of his tail feathers were a silvery-white color. His sharp icy blue eyes stared out of the painting with an intense rage.
“Penny for your thoughts?” Vital Spark asked as he took in the painting’s broad strokes and stark colors. “It sure looks like this Crackbeak was going for a dignified appearance.”
“Trying to figure out who this is, or was,” Grif explained with a shrug. “I’ve never seen a Gryphon like this.”
“Well, assuming this is from the era of that war, maybe you should ask Pensword. He could probably take a guess who it is.”
“Ask me what?” Pensword suddenly said from behind them. “I already know one painting I am putting into my private study.” He motioned a wing to a smaller painting copy of the mural from the Imperial War Museum. Finally, he drew his attention to the mysterious Gryphon, and tilted his head. “Well, that certainly is an interesting subject.” He looked over the medals and awards with a scrutinizing eye, seeking out any clues that might assist in this warrior’s identification, and why he was here in Pensword’s section. “Hmm.… Some of those, I recognize, but these two–” he used a feather to point to the two “–I do not.”
Moon River hopped onto Pensword’s head, and tilted her head to the opposite direction in imitation of her father.
“Did you kill a Gryphon that looked like this?” Grif asked.
Before Pensword could speak, Moon River spoke up. “Daddy looks funny!”
Pensword’s head jerked upright, causing Moon River to jump up, flutter her bat wings, and settle back down on her dad’s head again.
Pensword gazed intently at the Gryphon in silent contemplation.
Vital shrugged. “I don’t get it.”
“Crackbeak was known for his … unique muse,” Grif said. “I suppose it’s not impossible for him to imagine this.”
“Well, it is unique. I guess we can take it home with us.” Pensword blinked as Fox Feather giggled, pointing to the sign beside the portrait. “It seems this painting won the painter and Grask a bet. Oh, it says Crackbeak had lived in the village nearby.”
“Pensword!” Lunar Fang yelled from the back wall. The commander in a matter of seconds, following his wife’s gaze. He sat down in shock as he stared at the wall, then sniffed as he wiped his nose with his hoof. He couldn’t tear his eyes away. He blinked back the tears as he heard the distinct sound of his family arriving behind him. “Fox ... how–?”
Fox Feather stepped up to read the placard next to the painting. “Presented to Sharp Talon Bloodbeak by Emperor Redtalon upon Sharp Talon becoming King. Came from the Emperor's personal spoils of the Third Gryphon War.”
The painting showed a simple stone house whose roof was not visible. There, standing in front of the door between two sets of windows on either side, were a familiar set of figures. There were Moonbeam and Iron Pen, snuggling each other as their wings embraced. There on the ground in front of them, a familiar blue colt with a white mane grinned from beneath the massive helmet that slipped to one side. On his right a cute little Thestral filly grinned, exposing her fangs as she flared her wings. “Whirlwind,” Pensword whispered. To the left of the young Pensword, his little brother smiled, even as he laid his hoof against the helmet, pushing it off to the side with a mischievous grin. “Moon Burn.” Pensword raised a hoof to brush the painting’s frame gently. “My family.”
“They probably thought it was valuable,” Grif said as he approached to examine the painting. “Art is generally considered to be the height of dedication. A brush stroke requires more discipline than a sword.”
“Fate must have put it here. I ... this is. That’s my family up there.” He couldn’t suppress the laugh anymore, so he didn't. “This is coming home with me, and it’s never leaving my personal quarters.”
“So that’s what Moon Burn looked like?” Vital Spark asked.
“Yes. That is correct. And the filly is Whirlwind. The two adults are my mom and dad, Moonbeam and Iron Pen.” He blinked the tears away as his smile widened. “This is my family. Lunar Fang, if you could take care of the painting?” The mare nodded her understanding as Pensword stood up, and turned to find a rather flattering and kind portrayal of the battle at Fort Triumph, painted from the viewpoint of a Pony in the midst of taking the first wall of the fortress. “Another good painting,” he muttered. “Hey, Vital, could you take that model trebuchet to Moon River’s room?” He couldn’t help but grin as Moon River settled on top of said trebuchet. Fortunately for everyone in the room, it wasn’t engaged.
“You do realize she’s going to use that thing to terrorize us, once she gets the chance, right?” Vital sweatdropped as he picked Moon River up, and plopped her on his head using his magic, then grabbed the trebuchet, and pulled it along behind.
Pensword waited until the Unicorn had left, before looking at the canvas cover. “Okay, let us now look behind this wall.” He reached out, and pulled the cover down to reveal a passage leading into the rest of the room. The area was positively lined with bookcases, desks, scrolls, and parchments. Some had been either weighted down on the desks or hung up on corkboards for later use. “Okay, so we found a research station,” he muttered as he moved over to one of the books, which had been written in Equish, surprisingly enough. He picked it up. “A Theory of Thestrals and their inferiority to Pegasi, Unicorns, and Earth Ponies.” He snorted. “Yep. Definitely written by a Unicorn.” He put it down on the desk without giving it another thought.
He moved to another book. “A Transcription of how to Hunt Vampire Fruitbats, by....” His voice hitched. “By Blue Vase, who interviewed–.” He put the book down gently. “Gramma,” He whispered. He patted the book lovingly with a wing.
“Thestral infiltration Tactics: Know Your Enemy,” Grif read a Gryphic titled book.
“That sounds good. Let’s keep it.” Pensword looked to the first volume he’d criticized. “Bring that one, too. If I find out it’s still in circulation, I am going to give a hefty deconstruction of that book. The record deserves to be set straight,” he growled, before he moved to a scroll that had a tag hanging from the wooden rod. “Thestral Legends and Myths.” He paused. “Transcribed from an older record, and kept in the records of….” He seethed. “FLAME!” he growled. “Flame had a Thestral legend scroll in his archives, and he dared to keep it from us, from Luna! He must have traded it to the Gryphons for information or favors.”
He quickly opened the scroll, using a wing to brush the parchment aside, and read the title to the first myth. “Why the Moon Cries? I never heard this one before. This … this must be a lost myth.” He gasped as he put it down. He moved down some more rows, scanning through scrolls, tactics, drawings, and other titles. Every once in awhile, he would remove another scroll or volume, and add it to the pile with the first legend scroll, increasing the lore and history the tribes would doubtless be grateful to have returned. Lunar Fang took up a post next to the records, keeping an eye on the rest of the room, in case any traps might be triggered or a spy try to destroy the records.
“He wasn’t making the same mistake made during the Third Gryphon War,” Grif said with a whistle. “Seems like he got his talons on every scrap of information he could find.”
“Well, the good news is that it means we can use his actions to try and claim what we lost.” Pensword frowned. “Well this is just lovely,” he muttered sarcastically. “Seems he saved a flyer that was blaming Thestrals for the disappearance of Princess Luna.” He paused as he lifted up another flyer with a wing. “By royal decree, the lands of Mountainside Falls, Fortresses Triumph and Lunar Fang, and the Mountains of the Thestrals are hereby off limits to all Equestrian citizens who do not have business, trade, or wish to immigrate permanently to the region. All Equestrians who are living in these lands are hereby given six months to leave and settle their affairs in these lands.”
“Wow,” Fox Feather whistled. “Seems like Celestia was either trying to stop a war or remove anything that would remind her of her sister.”
“I hope it was the first option,” Pensword muttered. He sighed. “There is a lot of history here. Too much to go through in one night. I want to pack up this entire room, and have it reassembled in Filly De Ys. Grif, are you okay with that?”
“I’ll have a special room set aside for you,” Grif promised. Seconds later, a paper appeared in a flash of dragon fire. Grif scanned it, then immediately burned it with real fire. “Unfortunately, I need to go look after something.” Without another word, he left.
“See ya, Grif,” Pensword muttered. A few seconds after Grif had vacated the room, Fox Feather walked up with six small books and a kindly smile on her face.
“I found some Thestral books for the foals. There should be enough stories here to keep Moon River busy for the rest of the trip.”
Pensword smiled as he looked back, he saw another divider with a sign above it proclaiming weapons behind another Canvas wall flap. “Yes,” he said tiredly as he rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Let us go read to Moon River.” They all walked side by side with books and scrolls laden on their backs as they left the room, and headed for the guest quarters. The weapons could wait till later.
Hammer Strike wandered back into the room that had been dedicated to him. As it turned out, it opened into a passage that led to an entire hidden wing dedicated to him. During the first general visit, he had noticed a few things were either off or oddly placed. He had requested Grif come back to the room after he was done in Pensword’s wing.
“What did you want me to see?” the Gryphon asked as he entered, closing the heavy doors behind him.
“Tell me, did you notice anything odd about this room?”
“A few things,” Grif admitted, “but I have no idea what they’d mean.”
Hammer Strike shrugged, then gestured for Grif to follow as he walked to one of the far tables. A small figurine of the Gryphon general he had decapitated during the war sat glaring out into the rest of the room. “I couldn’t help but notice some things that were … out of place, or didn’t make sense, like this figurine, which has a seam around its neck that’s got a small gap.” He tapped the head, and it shifted. “Why would some figurine have moving parts?”
“Search me. It’s not exactly something Gryphons do. Even children’s toys don’t really do that kind of thing.”
“There’s also the part that, you know, stands out a little.” He attempted to nudge the figure. It didn’t budge an inch. “Like, oh say, how it’s connected to the table.” He twisted the head around to the point where it was about ready to break. When he did so, a loud click sounded as a hidden mechanism within the room whirred to life. The bricks against the far wall began to shift as a large chunk of the wall re-adjusted, turning in on itself to reveal a hidden doorway.
“Now that … isn’t what I expected,” Hammer Strike admitted as he quirked a curious eyebrow, which was not to be mistaken for the eyebrow of doom, in the new entry’s direction.
“I guess we should take a look,” Grif noted as he pulled out a knife, before entering into the passage. Hammer Strike quickly followed suit. When both had passed safely, the catch of a release sounded loudly in their ears, and the bricks began shifting again, closing the passage behind the pair, and plunging them in darkness.
“Hammer Strike, a little light?” Grif asked as they fumbled down the passage.
Hammer Strike’s hooves ignited with a tiny ball of flame, lighting the room in a faint blue glow. After a time, they found themselves entering a much larger antechamber, which remained mostly shadowed in the dim flame’s light. The pair walked cautiously through the room, Grif probing the shadowy shapes, while Hammer Strike maintained their light. Eventually, Grif felt the sensation of cold curving stone. It reached up to just below his head. As Hammer Strike drew closer, grif could just make out the silhouette of his reflection on top of whatever this thing was. He stuck a claw carefully into the liquid, before bringing it to his beak for a sniff. He nodded, and quickly wiped the residue of the substance off his talon, before turning to Hammer Strike.
“Put some fire in this,” he instructed.
Hammer Strike nodded as he willed the flame off his hoof, and into the bowl. The liquid burst into flame with a powerful combustion, bathing the room in a bright light.
Grif nodded as his suspicions were confirmed. The liquid had indeed been lamp oil, a fairly large reservoir of it, too. The sheer breadth of the vessel was about the size of a kiddie pool, filling the chamber with light that spread outwards, awakening runes and stone carvings to reflect and amplify the fluorescence, until the whole chamber was visible. The room was split into three parts. The left side was decorated with several blue-and-silver banners depicting a crescent moon cutie mark. Fragments of armor, replica suits of armor, and many different weapons littered the area. Depictions of Nightmare Moon could also be seen in various tapestries and glyphs. Pieces of parchment showing detailed sketches of a familiar Alicorn were positively crammed with notes written in Gryphic.
The right side of the chamber had been decorated in a series of white banners with gold trim depicting a single sun cutie mark. This side also had replica suits of armor and weapons, mostly blades; however, it was also covered with book shelves filled to the brim with scrolls and books of all kinds. Many sketches akin to those found on the Lunar side lay in wait for the explorers’ perusal, while various banners and drawings depicted the Alicorn of the sun meeting with the many leaders of the other races.
The two sides met at a large raised platform, one side holding a replica of the solar throne, and the other the lunar, or at least accurate depictions of what they had looked like during the Third Gryphon War. Behind them, however, was a taller, wider throne. It sat directly in the center, and seemed to be carved of some type of stone they had yet to identify. The stone had been engraved with separations and markings showing numerous thin distinct plates carefully linked together. Eventually, they recognized the pattern for what it was: thick, powerful dragon scales, or at least a facsimile of them, neatly arranged and bound together to form a sturdy base that held a large blue cushion. Two medium-length armrests sat on either side of it. At the back, a “scale” large and thick as a Tower Shield had been bound to the base. The whole thing came together to create an awe-inspiring spectacle.
On the wall behind this throne hung a blue silk banner with gold trim. The symbol for Equestria hovered at the bottom as the images of Celestia and Luna formed the familiar yin-yang. However, what drew the pair’s eyes was the much larger and more prominent mark that sat above it, clearly the core feature of the banner. Hammer Strike’s mark stood proudly, large and intimidating, implying an authority and emmanence that trumped even that of the princesses. Weapons had been mounted beneath and beside the emblem along the wall: great swords, war hammers, halberds, and great axes. Drawings and notes coated any open area like wall paper, and book shelves stuffed with books covered the area with veritable pyramids of scrolls piled high into the towering ceiling above. Some of them had been torn to pieces, whether by age or by the rage of a Gryphon, the pair couldn’t say.
“Holy–.” Grif trailed off as he examined the room. There weren’t really any other words that needed to be said.
“I don’t know how I should feel about this,” Hammer Strike said slowly. “I also don’t think I should look at half of this stuff.”
“But since you're here, you might as well, right?” Grif said with a playful chuckle.
“Yes?”
“His family must have been trying to find a way to kill you since before the Third Gryphon War,” Grif noted as he looked around. “Doesn’t seem like they got very far, though,” he said as he walked to one of the torn scrolls, and tried to make out some of what had been written.
“How many years of planning? And they still couldn’t figure something out?” Hammer Strike asked incredulously.
Grif found a discarded scroll that had somehow escaped the carnage, and didn’t sit with its fellows in the pile. He unravelled it to reveal a pictogram of Gryphons and Ponies at war. The Ponies were winning, and being led by a familiar stallion with several arrows sticking out of his body. “I mean, it’s an early piece, so who knows how much is true, but if he wasn’t sure, he’d probably be playing to the idea that any legend about you could be real.”
“It’s sad that I have no idea what’s true yet,” Hammer Strike commented, still looking curiously about the room.
“He’s got a lot of stuff here: possible weapons, potions, curses, the recipe for the fires of tartarus.” Grif took the scroll holding the recipe in question, and thrust it into the fire, until it caught. “We don’t need that.”
Hammer Strike gave a faint shudder. “Yeah, please. I don’t want another dose of that. I can almost feel it, still.”
Grif dropped the burning scroll onto the stone floor, and waited until the parchment had burned to ash. “Probably have to destroy a lot of this stuff,” he noted absently.
“Agreed.”
“Then let's keep this between us for now. I’ll get an ops team down here to clear out, a select few Gryphons who can keep their beaks shut.”
“We should look through this all personally first, just in case of some … severe materials,” Hammer Strike commented as he pulled up some parchment, and promptly burned it away in his hooves. “Yeah, we should probably do that before we leave.”
Grif whistled. “That bad, huh?” He shrugged. “Well, we’d better get started, then,” he said as he grabbed another scroll. This was definitely going to take a long while.
Pensword stood at the entrance of the clan hall. “So, any last minute things we should know, before we head to the village?”
“We should split up, but anyone not Hammer Strike should definitely not be alone,” Grif noted with a stern expression.
Pensword smiled. “Well, Khan, we know you’ll be escorting our lovers,” he said with a smirk as he waved a wing over Trixie and Vital’s way.
“Pensword, I swear, one of these days I’m going to prank you so hard….” Vital growled as a heavy blush shone through the fur on his cheeks.
“Yeah, sure you are, Vital,” Grif chuckled as he balanced the twins on his back, and looked to shrial. “Shall we, my lady?”
“You had to ask?” she returned as she kissed him gently on the cheek.
Pensword just chuckled. “Hey, they teased me with Moonshade. I’m just paying it forward. And shall we head out as well, ladies?” he asked as he looked between Lunar Fang and Fox Feather.” He then looked to his foals. “And you three make sure to keep Moon River at bay.”
“Two wrongs don’t make a right, Pensword,” Vital pointed out, even as Khan made his way over to the pair.
“Let an old general have his lark, okay?” Pensword shot back. “Still, I hope to see some of the weapons and, of course, the local museum.”
“They have a museum here, too? I thought those rooms we saw last night would’ve been the main attractions,” Vital pointed out.
“That was a private collection. I want to see what they have in the public domain.” Pensword shook his head. “What about you two? Are you planning on seeing the fashion shops and blacksmiths?” Pensword asked as he turned to face Hammer Strike and Rarity.
“And who knows, maybe Hammer Strike can unload some of his gold here. Faust knows he’s been trying to get rid of it all for centuries.” She giggled as she nuzzled up to her husband. “And who knows? Maybe I’ll find an inspiration here for my newest line of fashion.”
“Have fun, and good luck.” Pensword nodded grimly, before turning to address Grif. “Shall we head out now? I might look up this Crackbeak to find out anything more about his unique artwork.”
Vital and Trixie stared at the remnants of what had once been a great city. Old hay and feathers littered the streets, and rodents and bugs crawled and scavenged as if the town were their own personal trash heap. Khan kept a sharp eye on the populace as they walked slowly down the worn cobble streets. Roofs sagged above them, and many a Gryphon were heavily emaciated as they looked out from their nests. The scent of sickness, decay, and excrement hovered like a pall as the trio passed through it.
“I’ve seen abuse before, but this–.” Vital struggled to keep the tears at bay, both to avoid showing weakness and to avoid pricking the pride of any Gryphons who may have been stubborn enough to hold a grudge at his pity. “This is just wrong.”
“This is horrible,” Trixie agreed.
Vital drew closer to the mare, and nuzzled her mane gently. “You going to be okay?”
“Trixie will be fine. She’s read up on the Gryphon kingdoms before. This wasn’t … unexpected.”
“That doesn’t mean it’s welcome, though. All these people. And Grask was too blinded by his greed to see what he was doing to the people he was meant to protect.” He sighed heavily. “Say, Khan, do we know if this city has a church dedicated to the South Wind nearby?”
“Looking at how this city is, I’d very much be surprised to find anything larger than an altar left,” Khan responded. “I doubt they’d have been able to pay to maintain a whole church.”
“An altar will do, Khan.”
“Well then, let's see if we can find one,” Khan said.
“One of the citizens would know, wouldn’t they?” Trixie asked.
“That might not be such a good idea, Trixie,” Vital winced. “Anyone we ask will probably want us to pay them. What do you think would happen when everyone else sees that particular Gryphon or Gryphons have money in their current condition?”
“Be discreet about it,” Khan explained. He took a single bill, then rolled it up on the sly, placing it in his palm with hardly a movement. He kept it carefully concealed as he approached another Gryphon. He introduced himself, shook the Gryphon’s hand, then went about the task of explaining their problem. The Gryphon’s eyes slid into focus as he felt the bill, and he spoke rapidly to Khan, making several gestures before Khan seemed to thank him, and the two parted ways. Khan returned to the pair. “See? Not that difficult.”
“Much more so for a Pony without hands,” Vital noted, “especially one who was raised to be honest and forthright at all times. Though, I’m guessing Trixie might have had a trick or two up her sleeves,” he said as he turned and smiled teasingly at her.
“And when does Trixie not?” she returned.
“Why, Trixie, are we actually flirting?” Vital said as his smile widened, and he wiggled his eyebrows playfully.
“Trixie has been flirting with you for weeks,” Trixie responded as she turned to leave, flicking him with her tail. “If you’re just picking up on it, something’s wrong.”
“Ah, and yet again I am bested by a master far more experienced than I. ‘Tis the sad fate of such a lowly mage. Whatever is to be done?” Vital said dramatically as he drew near to her. “All I have to offer is but a small token, a trifle to so beautiful and independent a lady.” His horn sparked, and out of the air, a rose crafted from pure ice took form, then hovered before the mare.
“Trixie accepts this token.” The mare smiled as she took the rose into her magic, before kissing his cheek.
“Come on. I’d like to offer my respects to the South Wind and her daughter.”
“Look well, girls,” Grif said grimly as they walked through the town, taking in the rundown buildings and the gaunt-faced citizens. “This is why pappa needs to make sure things change.”
“I’ve seen desolation before, Grif, but this…. I have no words,” Shrial said as she looked about the squalor the once-resplendent city had become. Many a Gryphon glared mistrustingly at them as they passed.
“Did your father not tax his people harshly?” Grif asked.
Shrial shook her head. “Never to this extent. He was a cruel man at times, but he was fair to our people. He knew how to balance taxation with the welfare of his charges. One can’t exactly have a skilled band of loyal warriors, if they don’t have the strength to fight.”
“The problem is there are no regulations on a clan leader for how much they may take, much less a king.” Grif sighed. “And in the absence of proper war, it seems greed takes the forefront for many.”
“The curse of Faust in action,” Shrial said sadly.
“Hopefully these two will never suffer this degradation.” Grif nuzzled his daughters gently, even as the drew closer to his head for warmth and reassurance in this strange new environment.
“They won’t, if we raise them right,” Shrial confirmed as she looked to one nest in particular, where a practically skeletal Gryphoness lay with weary eyes, while a cub suckled hungrily at her sagging teats. Her eyes filled with pity for only a moment. A blink later, and her mask of indifference had again returned. “They won’t be long for this world, will they?” she asked sadly.
“Unless something changes soon, who knows how many of these Gryphons will survive the year?” Grif said grimly. “The supplies I brought won’t be enough for everyone.”
“We’ll probably want the children away from the town when the food is done being distributed, then. I’d rather they not see the fight to follow.”
“I had to try something,” Grif offered somewhat defensively.
“I know.” Shrial sighed. “I’m not blaming you, Grif. We can’t save everyone, much though we wish we could. We can’t do it all. It might not be a bad idea to bring these Gryphons’ conditions up with Daedalus, though. I get the feeling he’s unaware just how badly off Grask has left things in his kingdom.
“A review might be in order,” Grif agreed, “but in the end, there is only to be one answer to this. You know as well as I do that no system will last while we fight and squabble amongst ourselves. We need the Winds back.” He sighed, and shook his head. “And I’m still a long way from finding out how to bring them home.”
“But you found the gems. That’s a start, right?” Shrial asked as she leaned in to preen her husband’s feathers lovingly.
“The gems are the anchor,” Grif agreed, “but I still need to find what they used for a container, and the catalyst.”
“One thing at a time, Grif. One thing at a time. The Winds have been patient. They can wait a little longer, and I’m sure they’ll guide you where you need to go, once you’ve finished coming into your own.”
“For now, perhaps we should head back. It seems the only shop that managed to sustain itself was the blacksmith. Little surprise there, given his skills. This place is bothering the girls.”
“You honestly expected it not to?”
“No. I expected it would, but there is no reason to expose them to more than necessary. They’re still young.”
“True.” Shrial nodded soberly as they turned around. “Maybe next time we should let them stay with Avalon.”
“Maybe. I hope she’s had time to recover. When we get to the fort, it’s going to be quite the performance.”
“Considering the Winds blessed our unions, I’m pretty sure she’ll be up to the task. Do you really think they’d have let the weddings happen otherwise?”
“Probably not,” Grif chuckled. “Come, Shrial. I think it’s nap time for these two.”
“And quite possibly lullaby time, too,” Shrial added. “Care to make it a duet?” she asked with a playful smile.
“Always,” Grif said with a gentle smile as the two left the despair behind them, and returned to safety, warmth, and light that was their room in the cool stone and warm wood of Grask’s mansion.
Pensword and Lunar Fang stood in front of the local museum, or what had once been a museum. After exposing the children to the decay and sickness earlier, all three parents felt it would be best to leave them back at the clan hall. Fox Feather had opted to stay behind to keep an eye on them. Pensword looked up to try and decipher the text over the crumbling archway that was the museum entrance. Pensword looked to his wife with shadows swimming in his eyes. “Gryphons … heck, the Northern Islands were in better conditions during the Third Gryphon War.” He looked back over the ragged hovels the Gryphons called nests. While Pensword’s face remained grim, the softness in his eyes told just how strongly this scenery was affecting Matthew.
“Gryphons will survive. We always have.” The voice was old, dusty, and dry as a bone. The couple turned to face a large Gryphon with the head of a grey owl and the body of a cougar. “Can I help you?”
Lunar Fang spoke up for them. “We were wondering if we could enter the museum, perhaps gain a greater understanding of the history behind this town.”
“You have beaks?” he asked urbanely.
Lunar Fang nodded. “What are the prices?”
Pensword stepped forward, but Lunar Fang flapped out a wing to wave him off.
“Eight beaks per person,” he said flatly. “Donations are up to you.”
Lunar Fang stepped forward and looked at the Gryphon. “Are you the curator?”
The Gryphon nodded.
She slipped two ten beak coins into his palm. “The extra four is for you, if you would be willing to be our guide.”
He pocketed them with a nod. “Very well. Follow me,” he said in a slightly more chipper tone.
The two ponies remained silent as he walked up to the door, and unlocked it. Lunar Fang snuck a look at her husband and saw that the shadows in Pensword’s eyes had lightened somewhat. It would seem Matthew was willing to put aside his pity over the population’s living conditions for the sake of this historical prospect.
“After the nesting spires were abandoned, our little settlement was one of the first places Gryphons chose to settle. The area was easily defensible from outside attack, and held a reasonably stable supply of food,” he explained.
Pensword furrowed his brow. “Why were the spires abandoned? I hear they are very important to your history.”
“The spires where a tactical weakness. All our cubs were being raised in a single area. If the spires were ever taken down, entire generations could have been wiped out. Also, we could only build them so high, before their bases couldn’t take the weight anymore.”
Pensword nodded. “That … makes sense,” he muttered as he realized something that brought Matthew even more sorrow. They were standing in the oldest continuously inhabited city or townshend on the Gryphon mainland, and all that history had been practically eradicated by Grask’s cruelty. Eventually, they reached a mural portraying a powerful Gryphon. The winds swirled around him as he glared defiantly at the world with two familiar swords in either hand.
“In case you are unfamiliar with our history, this is Grask Grimfeather Dragonfeller, the first Avatar of the winds, and one of our people’s greatest historical figures. He was the first known case of a mortal Gryphon being allowed to wield the Winds’ power, and one of the few of our race to have ever killed a Dragon. Most battles between a Dragon and our kind required flights of Gryphons to have a chance to take the best. Grask, however, felled several vicious dragons on his own with nothing but his swords and the Winds’ blessing.”
Pensword knew only too well how powerful the avatar could be. He had no doubts about Grask’s ability to slay the creatures. He maintained his silence as they continued through what proved to be a surprisingly large museum. The exterior had been more for facade. The real treasures lay in the tunnels below. Considering the state of the rest of the town, he could understand why this tunnel system had been instituted. Yet even here, he could see signs of decay as supports and bits of ceiling crumbled. Two of the steps on their descent were more gravel than stone. As they continued on, Pensword noticed a door with Bloodbeak’s name over it. The curator seemed to take an extra effort to avoid the place, occasionally stealing an angry glare in its direction.
“And these are pictograms carved by Gryphons before the fall of Winds depicting the actions of Lord Hammer Strike during the First Gryphon War. As you may notice, the infamous Celestia’s Ghost rained fire upon our forces during the Battle of the Pale.” He gestured to one of the pictograms that showed Gryphons brandishing weapons at Ponies who stood on top of a cliff. A single pony stood out front, and had a hoof raised to the sky as fireballs fell onto the Gryphons.
Pensword’s eyes bugged out at the sight. “That….” He shook his head to gather his thoughts. “The first Gryphon War. We have so few records from that time. Discord destroyed most of them during his rule. Tell me, do you know how long the First Gryphon War lasted?”
“Seven months by our best guess, but knowledge of these records has degraded since the fall of the Winds,” the Gryphon answered honestly.
Pensword nodded his head. “It can hurt losing one’s history.” He looked one more time at the pictograms. They stayed a little longer, and then moved on to the next exhibit.
Most of the exhibit showed more pictograms, and a few works portraying bloody battles from the First and Second Gryphon Wars. Hammer Strike seemed to be a constant theme, though he wasn’t in every one. Still the more legend and myths they went over, the more fearsome Hammer Strike looked. Some depictions seemed much more emotional than Pensword remembered Hammer Strike ever really being.
By the end of this gallery, Pensword was more than unnerved. These paintings had shown a side to the Pony he had never seen before. The last image practically radiated hatred and malice. He barely held off the shudder as they passed into another underground gallery, this one filled to the brim with weapons. He perked an ear, waiting for the curator to speak again.
“These are recreations of weapons wielded in famous battles, some from the three great wars with Equestria, but many others from battles fought amongst our own kind. Dominance is a key part of our culture. That, unfortunately, tends to lead to civil conflict in one form or another. Just over here, we have the dagger that assassinated Emperor Flavius.” He motioned to one of the daggers.
“Just to clarify, is this a reproduction or the actual thing?” Pensword asked as he looked over the dagger’s wavy edge. The metal was completely black, and an ingenious mechanism caused it to sprout hidden hooks to grab at flesh and internal organs, shredding them as the dagger was removed. It was a truly sinister thing.
“A simple reproduction. The actual dagger vanished into the collection of some Gryphon years ago.”
“A shame. It looks like a good dagger.” He paused as he looked around. “I have a question about a specific emperor. What happened to Emperor Redtalon?” His eyes roamed over the racks and plinths displaying the replicas. Despite the fact they were all reproductions, a strange sense of antiquity filled the air.
“Emperor Redtalon was the great grandfather of Emperor Daedalus, formerly King Redtalon, until he dispatched Emperor Jarion with poison. Emperor Redtalon went on to live a full life, dying at nearly four hundred years of age.”
Pensword was shocked, but happy to hear at least one emperor actually lived to old age. He was also a bit surprised, wondering if maybe this was why Daedalus had been the way he was. He strolled over towards a large black blade, and admired its craftsmanship. At least, until he noticed the gem. He reared back, and whinnied. “The pommel eye moved!” he gasped out.
“Yes, that's quite a clever bit of enchantment there. A gem enchanted to follow you like an eye.”
“What blade is this supposed to represent? It reminds me of the blade talked about at the Grand Galloping Gala, the one Hammer Strike carries with him.”
“I’m unsure on the history of that one, the records were … lost with the previous curator,” the older Gryphon admitted.
“So, it is just a fun parlor trick sword for the guests?” Lunar Fang asked, eyeing the blade.
“Quite possibly.”
Pensword looked about the weapons. “What is your favorite weapon in this room?” he asked.
“Personally? I would have to say the Sword of Kessle.” The curator gestured to a two-handed flamberge sword. “Used by the hero Garon in the battle for the Lonely Mountain.”
“What is the Lonely Mountain?” Lunar Fang asked. “That sounds like an interesting name, and there must be a story behind it to make it such a favorite piece.”
Pensword sighed in relief as his twitching brows settled down. It was hard to keep Matthew from pulling a Pinkie Pie in the museum, especially after that name.
“It’s the name of the mountain Gryphelheim was built on,” he explained. “A single lone mountain surrounded by flatland. Easily defensible with plenty of hunting grounds nearby.”
Pensword paused. “I am guessing the original is considered a relic, and is held by the imperial house?” he asked. “It sounds like a founding of your capital kind of story.”
“No, actually. It was buried with the hero who wielded it,” the Gryphon said, somewhat confused.
“Sorry,” Lunar Fang spoke. “My husband gets some odd ideas, but can you blame him? We’re Ponies, after all. We’d never even heard of Garon until today. I hope you can forgive our ignorance.” She shot a meaningful look at pensword, and the commander locked his mouth shut tight.
“Of course, of course. Come, let us continue the tour,” the older Gryphon said as he led them further into the crumbling exhibits.
It was no surprise that Hammer Strike eventually found his way into a smithy and weapons shop. The heat of the forge and the ringing of a hammer on steel called to him like a favorite song. Inside, the large sand-colored building was a single room stocked with barrels and wall racks holding weapons of various qualities and styles. The cheaper weapons were held in the barrels, and not really sorted in any order, aside from ‘axes,’ ‘spears,’ or ‘swords,’ whereas the finer quality weapons lay on the racks, shelves, or makeshift plinths. Some of them held information on what made the weapon worth so much more gold.
When the bell above the door rang, the hammering slowed, just for a moment, before picking back up again. It stopped a few minutes later, and the bubbling hiss of the quench tank could be heard before the simple cloth that separated the two parts of the building moved aside. The Gryphon who entered was large, having a liger body and the head of a merlin. His fur was faint in some places where he’d obviously been burnt during the working of his craft, but otherwise he looked healthier than most of his neighbors.
If this Gryphon recognized the famous Pony, he didn’t show it as he lumbered up to him and offered a large set of talons. “Aidin Featherhammer at your service. Blacksmith. I also buy and sell weapons you have no further use for, and scrap metal, so long as the quality is good. If you're one of those Equestrian nobles, don’t even open your mouth about it. I wouldn’t change the prices if you were Emperor Daedalus himself,” he said flatly.
Hammer Strike gave a brief chuckle as he shook Aidin’s talon. “I can certainly agree with you on that. Can hardly ask full price without complaints from them.”
“Oh, so you're a blacksmith, too?” Aidin raised a curious brow. “How’d you get all the way out here?”
“Invited over alongside a few others to meet with Daedalus. We decided to stop by around here. I’m Hammer Strike. A pleasure to meet another smith.”
Aidin’s eyes widened a bit. “Oh, Winds. I’m sorry. I didn’t know who you were! Please, take a look around. If you need anything custom, just ask.”
“Will do. I’ve noted some interesting pieces on my way in.”
“Well, between salvage from duels or the battlefield and nobles trying to refill their treasuries, we get a lot of interesting pieces from all over the world. Gryphelheim is only a few hours away by airship, after all. Tourists usually come through here.”
“And with it, I’m almost certain of there being sob stories with them,” Hammer Strike replied as he examined a few mounted blades. “Always is.”
“Or stories about how their great ancestor killed a hydra with this blade while paralyzed.”
“You’ve gotten that story, too?” Hammer Strike gave a short laugh. “Small world, sometimes.”
“You make it seem like you’ve never done that before,” a third voice spoke up suddenly. Both the Gryphon and pony looked around, confused.
“You’ve got someone else in the shop?” Hammer Strike questioned.
“No one else has been here all day.” Aidin looked around with wide eyes as his talon clenched for a set of daggers sheathed in his apron’s belt.
“Calm down, partner. You act like you're being haunted or something,” the voice spoke again.
“It wouldn’t be the first time,” Hammer Strike muttered. “So, where are you?”
“Over here. In the barrel marked ‘Swords,’” the voice said. It rang with a metallic reverberation in a light baritone.
Hammer Strike glanced quizzically at Aidin, before moving over to said barrel. After a moment of looking, he grabbed one of the blades at random, and pulled it out.
“See, partner? I knew you’d remember me.” The sword was a strange mixture of an Equestrian longsword and a Kitsune katana, consisting of a long straight single edge that ran to a curved tip. The main body of the blade was blackened, but the edge itself had been left with the normal metallic color. The entire handle seemed to have been made of brass, or at least given a brass finish. A long plate ran down a sixth the length of the blade, supporting the back. This plate was connected by a series of four brass rivets. A fifth rivet connected to a loop that actually moved up and down as the blade talked. The crossguard was rounded with two rectangular points coming off the sides. The handle had been wrapped in a plain white cord, and while the blade was light enough for a single hoof, the handle left plenty of room for a two-hooved grip. The pommel was a simple cylindrical bit.
“I’m sorry, but … I don’t. At least, not yet?” Hammer Strike replied with uncertainty.
“That explains why you’re so much shorter than I remember,” the sword responded.
“What?”
“Did I stutter?” the sword returned.
“Part of me wishes you did,” Hammer Strike muttered. “So, you said we were partners?”
“Yup. I provided the blade and witty banter, and you provided the swinging,” the sword responded.
“Yeah.” He rolled his eyes. “With a personality like yours, I actually believe it.” He looked over to Aidin. “So, uh, you want cash or a trade?”
“I don’t even remember putting that blade in there,” Aidin noted. “Whatever you think is fair, I guess,” he said with a shrug.
Hammer Strike placed the sword down for a moment, before reaching into his coat. “Any preference?”
“Cash, I guess,” Aidin said, shrugging.
Hammer Strike pulled out a pouch of bits, opened it, and shrugged, before passing it to Aidin. “That seem good?”
“Yeah. That should do fine.” Adin gave a respectful bow. “From one practicer of the craft to another, thank you for your business,” he said as he took the money carefully.
Hammer Strike nodded as he looked back to the blade, noting it had somehow been sheathed, despite neither of the pair touching it. “When…?” He sighed. “Nevermind. Let’s just go.”
Grif stood before the middle door on the second floor, taking a few deep breaths as he stared at it. “It can’t be too bad, right? I mean yours and Hammer Strike’s were just small rooms. It can’t be too much to see.” He turned to Pensword almost imploringly.
Pensword raised a brow. “Now I am half expecting it to be three stories tall, and like that vault at the end of National Treasure,” he said as a slight smirk pulled at his muzzle.
Grif said nothing as he opened the door, and they stepped inside. It was, by far, worse than the he’d imagined. A positively cavernous room with a high ceiling reverberated the foreboding creak as they entered. The room was chock full of things: weapons, books, scrolls, art, sculptures, and….
“Are those … toys?” Grif asked incredulously as he examined the shelf which had been lined with figures of wood, tin, and plastic, as well as several plushies and Nightmare Night masks.
“Why would he have toys in here?” Fox Feather asked as she looked closer at the items.
Lunar Fang looked at them. “Should we create a communal toy horde for our little ones to play with?”
“If he was going mad, he might consider any form of research worth following, but….” Grif picked up a plastic figure, and examined it carefully. “This is truly excessive. I didn’t even realize these existed.”
“Well,” Pensword said dubiously as he looked at a towel that had a rendering of Grif’s face embroidered into it, “I know of collectors who are far, far worse back on Earth.”
“Maybe, but I find it rather disturbing that a country I fought against made these.” Grif pulled up a thin booklet with a caricature of him flanked by several nondescript Ponies and a giant Minotaur. Grif Grafson and his Irregulars: Operation Tigershark. Grif raised an eyebrow. “I mean, I fought against them.”
“What better way to get back what you lost in war funds than by selling merchandise surrounding someone you hate?” Vital pointed out. “These could’ve easily been used by someone to burn or destroy in some way.”
“You don’t want to know what I saw on some college campuses, while I was there. Let’s just say some folks liked a lot of red stuff,” Pensword said, only to be surprised at being kissed by the two mares. “But I’m Matthew,” he muttered, only to be kissed again, while the two giggled mischievously.
“I’d understand it, if they put me in a villainous light,” Grif reasoned. “The only time that seems to happen is when I make a deal with the devil himself, said devil being Hammer Strike.”
“Did I have a golden fiddle?” Hammer Strike asked as he looked up from his position.
“No, but you did have a silver hammer,” Grif responded.
“Fair enough,” he nodded as he continued his examination.
Pensword hid a giggle behind a hoof, before speaking, “Well, remember how Daedalus acted when you first got his letters? These could very well explain some of that. Some Gryphons might see you as a modern day Robin Hood, or an Ivanhoe. Heck, I wouldn’t be surprised if some folks are trying to tie you to the first avatar now as an image for the lost glory, strength, and honor Gryphons had before the fall.” He smiled at Grif’s understandably shocked face, then shrugged with a knowing smile. “I went to a museum today.”
“Well, I suppose we can give the toys to the kids. Spike may like these comics. They seem vintage enough,” Grif noted with a sigh. “We can sort the rest of those later. I just wish it didn’t look like he robbed an art museum in here.”
“For all we know, he probably did, Grif,” Vital pointed out. “Modern Gryphon culture has tended towards that for a while now, based on what I’ve discovered in my research for the outlying kingdoms.”
“Seriously, did [i[anyof these sculptors know what I look like?” Grif asked as he approached one statue after another. Some were clay, others marble, and others still simple cement. Each of them showed a different combination of bird and beast for his appearance. Some were fierce, others soft. Some small, and some positively titanic. Several portrayed blood or some other sign of a violent act in the making.
“Honestly, I doubt it,” Lunar Fang said. “Then again, they might have taken the romantic version of a perfect Gryphon to sculpt it.”
Pensword giggled from his place further down the rows. “Hey, Crackbeak is at it again!” Three different versions of Grif rendered in paint glowered angrily back at the laughing Thestral. The first had been done in an Imperial Gryphon style, with the metal feather as the focus for the piece, along with Grif’s raven beak. Other than that, it was the normal stereotypical Gryphon from Earth mythology. The middle painting seemed to show Grif as a Thestral, and the third … was just swirls of colors. “Can I keep the Thestral painting?”
“I’ll think about it.” Grif eyed the weapons wall. “I don’t even think half of these would actually work.”
“They didn’t have to. All the Gryphons had to do was give a compelling story that tied them to you,” Vital noted as he looked over a thick gauntlet with six divets in it that were missing gems.
“Except I never used half of these. I mean, the halberd? A warhammer? A scythe? An a–.” Grif stopped dead as his eyes locked onto something.
“And so the Gryphon is stopped in his tracks. What is it, Grif? Is it a trap of some kind?”
Grif said nothing as he approached the wall, and what lay on it. it was a large two-handed war axe, forged in a cruder fashion, like it had been put together by something not Gryphon. Chips, scratches, and nicks lined the blade, making it among the less attractive pieces in the room, and yet Grif stared at it with a devout reverence. He lifted it gently, and cradled it in his hands as he ran a talon gently over each nick in the head. “It’s … the old bird’s axe,” he finally said.
Pensword and Lunar Fang reached out their wings, and instantly yanked Fox Feather away. They knew what happened more often than not when Grif got upset.
“It’s the real thing. Every nick and scratch,” Grif whispered. “How many times I admired this when I was a cub.” His voice cracked as his hand clenched a little tighter around the axe’s handle. “This can’t be here,” he said as his voice began to shake. “This can’tbe here.”
Pensword moved forward, his wings spread in a defensive stance to protect Fox Feather and Lunar Fang. Any fool could have told just how badly this one weapon was affecting Grif. And anger had never mixed well with the proud Gryphon before. It wasn’t so much a matter of if something would happen, only when and what.
“May you and all your ancestors walk the earth for eternity,” Grif growled to no one in particular. “I buried him with this. You desecrated his grave to get to me? Why? Why would you do this?” the wind around Grif howled with his grief as he held the axe. “He was my father!”
Pensword spat with Grif, while Lunar Fang spoke in shock. “That’s abhorrent. Completely uncalled for. The dead should– the dead should–.” She grit her teeth, unable to complete the sentence at the thought of the disrespect Grask had dared to commit.
Pensword shook his head, aghast. “To a Thestral, that means he and his family deprived the soul of their weapon in the afterlife.”
“I wish he was alive, so I could pluck his feathers, and let him live a day without them. Then I’d end his life ... slowly,” Fox Feather said.
“Someone get me a chest.” Grif’s voice cut through the air like a well-honed air slash as his body shuddered, and the winds died down. “Something fine, if we have it. I … I can’t pack this in a crate. It deserves better. Hedeserved better.”
Hammer Strike was the one to step up. Using his immense strength, he pushed one of the more refined chests in the room forward to rest next to the raven Gryphon. “If you want help with anything, just say the word.”
Grif opened the chest, and dumped its contents, heedless of whatever Grask may have stored there previously. All that mattered was the weapon he held. The chest was empty in a matter of moments, its swords and papers of authenticity scattered across the ground with hollow clangs, before Grif laid the axe gently in the chest, and then locked it. “Thank you, Hammer Strike, but if you all could just leave me alone right now, I’d really appreciate it. Please?”
Hammer Strike nodded. “I’ll be in the next room over,” he said as he moved towards the door.
Vital nodded as he followed the lord. “Let us know when you’re ready for us again, Grif. We’ll just be a call away.”
Pensword looked to the back of the room, where a staircase stretched to higher levels. “We’ll be up there,” he said. “In case you need us.” The three walked off to leave Grif with the chest and his father’s axe.
Two hours later, Grif appeared out of the room, the chest carried on his back. He’d said nothing as he went through the mansion to the dock, and onto the Gantrithor, depositing the chest in his room. When he reappeared, the fur on his face was wet. He’d clearly washed it to hide evidence of tears as he approached the others at a careful pace.
“We have one last thing to do,” he told them.
“Which is?” Pensword asked. His wings twitched in agitation.
“I had food and other provisions stored on the ship, before we left. It’s waiting under guard in the village. We’re going to take it to the slums, and distribute it.”
“Do you want Lunar Fang’s and my help? Or Fox Feather?”
“Only if you feel up to it. You’ll have to leave Moon River behind,” Grif noted.
“That should be fine,” Lunar Fang said as she approached. “Moon River is spending time with Her Gryphon siblings, and her brothers. That should keep her occupied long enough.”
Grif looked to Vital Spark and Hammer Strike. “You two coming?”
Hammer Strike simply nodded in response.
“Service is my middle name,” Vital said with a smile. “Right after friendship, and game master, and fantasy.”
Grif chuckled dryly as he led them from the mansion, and through the town. They eventually came to an area of the town they hadn’t visited. It had little more then the ruins of old houses and makeshift tents fashioned from whatever ragged cloth could be found. The residents of this area regarded them with suspicious, dead eyes.
“Meet the clanless,” Grif said as he swept a hand over the group. “Those who can’t make a living from a life of crime, anyway. Meet those our great kings would sooner have forgotten entirely. Gaze upon their kingdom in all it’s desperation and depravity.” Grif sighed as they approached a relatively held-together building surrounded by armed Gryphons bearing Grif’s crest. They recognized their clan leader right off, and opened the door to reveal several dozen parcels wrapped in blankets.
Pensword and Lunar Fang entered cautiously. Fox Feather had opted to remain behind. Her memories from the war were still a little too sharp at times, and she didn’t wish to risk having a panic attack or worse while they were trying to help. Pensword furrowed his brow. “Grif, Matthew is wondering if there are military skills that he could tap to train Equestria’s military.”
Grif shook his head. “I’m afraid it’s not that simple. Most of these Gryphons could leave the country at any time, and try to make a living elsewhere. No one would try to stop them, certainly. They stay, because of choice, because their pride makes them want to try and make a place here,” Grif said as he grabbed the first of the parcels. “To all Gryphons, this land is still home.”
“I thought so,” Pensword replied. “I felt the same way about Mountainside Falls. So how will we … help them?” The last two words felt wrong to say, but it was clear they needed to be said. These Gryphons weren’t the ones who murdered his family. They were trying to save their own.
“And home is always the hardest place to leave.” Vital nodded in understanding. “So, like Pensword said. How do we help?”
“To start, we’ll distribute what we have here, and then we’ll have the pantries from the mansion emptied to give to the citizens. It may not be a lot, but the food should help them all.”
“I’m game,” Vital nodded.
“Take a parcel, and find someone to give it to,” Grif told them as he took his, and scanned the horizon. He saw what he was aiming for, a small alley between two crumbling ruins that seemed to be tented off. Grif was certain he’d seen a small beak duck behind it a moment ago. Moving as quickly and silently as possible, he placed the bundle beside the fabric, and knocked gently on the side of the building. As he walked away, a small face looked through the cloth, and saw the bundle. Looking around suspiciously, the Gryphon cub pulled it in quickly.
Pensword and Lunar Fang looked at each other and they took one parcel each, before heading out. Pensword moved to the outskirts, as even among the Clanless, those on the outer reaches would most likely be the most needy. Eventually, he found a tent covering the ground. The feel of the earth, however, and the slight scent of dampness indicated the cloth merely served as a roof for a hole. He laid his parcel on the ground, and shook the tarp, before stepping away. He didn't get far, before a Gryphon that tailed him from the city tried to snatch the parcel. Penword growled, and snapped his wings open. The Gryphon turned, but grinned while using a talon to undo one of the stakes.
Pensword snorted, and stepped forward.
At that moment, Lunar Fang was hiding in a shadow as she watched a particularly rundown porch with a broken door. A small cub looked around suspiciously, then pulled the parcel in. Lunar Fang smiled as she turned around, and slipped away. A few Gryphons looked her way, but didn’t do much else.
Vital Spark levitated his bundle over to a group of cubs hovering around a mouse hole. He opened his mouth, about to say something, then thought better of it, and walked away to let the cubs divide the bundle as they chose.
Over the next hour, the group distributed the rest of the supplies. When they ran out, Grif announced to town’s populace that there would be more relief within the next few days, and promised for a change in the future. He begged them not to fight over what was provided, and hoped they would have the patience to wait for more. After that, it was decided to make a hasty retreat back to the mansion. They had only served a small portion of the population, and it was best to avoid trouble.
Pensword got separated, and when he joined up at the mansion there was a Gryphoness trailing behind him with four cubs. “You know the parcel? Well, three toms tried to steal from her, so I’m putting her up in the mansion.” His face was a veritable storm front of rage. The mother was little more than bare bones, and the cubs were borderline malnourished. “She is going to work in the kitchen to earn her keep. I don’t care if I’m breaking taboos. I will not see this family bullied anymore.” He snorted, and shook his head firmly as his face scrunched unpleasantly.
“Sadly, many of those families may not benefit much from our kindness today,” Grif said with a sigh. “You saved one, but what about the others?”
Pensword’s expression softened. “A Unicorn was walking down the beach when he saw a young Pegasus foal picking up starfishes from the sand, and flinging them back into the sea.
“‘Why are you bothering? There’s too many on the beach. They’ll just die. It won’t matter,’ the Unicorn spoke.
“The Pegasus Foal looked at the starfish in his wings, and looked out to sea, then threw it out to the waves. ‘I made a difference to that one,’ the foal said, ‘and that matters to it,’” Pensword finished his small tale. Then he whispered, “‘I made a difference to that one.’”
“Yeah,” Grif said, though his tone didn’t imply his agreement or disagreement, really. It was just kind of empty. “That's one way to look at it.”
“We will do more tomorrow,” Pensword replied. “It won’t be enough. I know it won’t, but Matthew will have a mental breakdown, if I don’t.”
“Yeah,” Grif sighed as they entered the mansion. “Tomorrow.” And he stalked off towards the docks, where Avalon, Cheshire, Gilda, and the cubs were all playing along the deck. He needed some time with his family.
Pensword nodded his head sadly as he slipped away to be with his own family.
The next two-and-a-half days were spent with items being sorted and loaded aboard the Gantrithor. What hadn’t been taken or destroyed was marked for auction in Gryphelheim. True to his word, Grif had seen the food from the pantry parceled up and distributed in the village towards the clanless and some of the poorer families. Anonymously, of course. Gryphons were too proud to accept charity, after all. He also had forgone all but a fraction of his share of the treasury, having the beaks put aside to provide more aid when they were away. At the advice of Hammer Strike, Grif had appointed the blacksmith Aidin to act as governor. The mansion itself was to be converted into a communal living space. The staff could leave to find new employment or, if they lacked a place to go, they were welcome to stay and act as paid stewards for the building.
Grif and the others had just finished lunch on the third day as the last of the crates were being loaded. “I won’t miss this place,” he admitted as he, Pensword, and Bellacosa signed the last of the paperwork next to the gangplank.
“I do agree with you there. This has been trying on my nerves, and I still feel like Gryphons will swoop down to attack me at any moment, despite all the time that’s passed,” Pensword grumbled as he rubbed his inky hoof in a cloth.
“Do you think they’d really be able to do much here, though?” Cosy asked as he levitated the quill he’d been using back to the porter, then sighed. “So many were starving. What that king did to these people is just terrible.”
“We’ll be starting to turn that around, right Grif?” Pensword asked.
“We’ll be trying,” Grif said with a shrug. “There’s no way to be sure.”
“And we can’t even set up a fund for them or something like that, huh? They won’t accept it,” Cosy said as he shook his head.
“We’re a proud race. Comes with age, I guess,” Grif said as he gazed over the town. “I put money away to try, at least.”
“From what you and Hammer Strike have said, it sounds like that smith– Aidin? –will probably find a way. Smiths are pretty practical about those kinds of things,” Vital Spark said as he finished the last bite of a ham and cheese sandwich made from boar meat.
“That's the hope.” Grif nodded as the solicitors and other Gryphons who would review the paperwork nodded their approval. He then turned from them, taking wing to board the Gantrithor properly. “It’s some hope at least”
“Here, here,” Pensword responded as he took to the air with his family. “It will.” He lapsed into silence till he arrived safely on the deck, then spoke to Grif directly. “Does that mean we will be coming back once a year or more to check up on things?”
“No. I think we’ll just receive updates. We should only return if it becomes necessary. Otherwise, the Gryphons might get suspicious.”
“You know, it’s really annoying when you guys do that. Not all of us can fly yet, you know,” Vital grumbled as he reached the top of the gangplank with a giggling Cosy following closely behind.
“Thats your mistake,” Grif responded as a playful smirk began to pull at the edges of his beak.
“If you say one word about ascension, I swear I’ll stuff that beak full of your own crest feathers.”
“Yes,” Grif’s smirk pulled into a full blown grin. “In that mystical fantasy realm where you can catch me,” he said as he idly dodged a bolt of magic from Vital without even acknowledging it, though one of the crewmen certainly did as a surprised squawk rang over the deck.
Vital blushed heavily. “Sorry!” he shouted.
“I thought magic wasn’t to be used on deck,” Hammer Strike said with a chuckle as he made his way out from the holds, and looked to the half-frozen crewman.
“Should I send him to the brig?” Grif asked with a devilish grin.
“I sure don’t see a problem with it, but perhaps this time we’ll settle with a warning.”
“Why do you guys take so much pleasure in torturing me?” Vital complained.
“Because it’s just too easy sometimes,” Hammer Strike said.
“Agreed,” Pensword said with a wicked chuckle.
“Anyway, Vital being easy to tease aside, let's get the checks done. I’d like this place to be a speck on the horizon before nightfall,” Grif noted.
“Sounds good to me,” Pensword responded with a smile.
“I guess I should see about unfreezing that crewman’s butt, huh?” Vital said with a sigh and a longsuffering roll of his eyes, before making his way to his unfortunate victim. The Gryphon in question folded his arms, and gave an annoyed glare. The damage was quickly reversed, and Vital apologized, before racing into the ship to get to his quarters. He’d had enough of making a fool of himself for one day.
“Well … this has been an interesting trip so far,” Hammer Strike commented.
“Let’s hope this is the last interesting trip we have out this way,” Grif said as they entered the bridge. He moved quickly through the checklist to ensure proper liftoff protocols had been followed. “May I never have to see this place again.”
“And now we are coming back sometime in the future for sure,” Pensword muttered. “You said ‘never’ and ‘again,’ Grif. How many times have you warned Vital Spark about that sort of thing?”
“Not if he doesn’t want to,” Hammer Strike shrugged. “After all, with the clan Grif has, I’m pretty sure if something pops up that there’ll be someone who can take the order.”
“Perks of being a mercenary warlord,” Grif chuckled. “Now let's get out of here.” He gave a curt nod to the helmsmen, and the engine thrummed as the Gantrithor took off.
“I’m curious of what the next place will be like, and if the general reactions will follow once more,” Hammer Strike hummed to himself. “Conversing with other Gryphons was difficult, to say the least.”
“Agreed on that,” Pensword muttered.
“What was it like on your end?”
“Disconcerting. I feel … overwhelmed. I was given respect towards the end. Six children were following me by the end of the day. The museum was informative. Still, I just don’t know what happened. I just learned I am somewhat considered the way some view Rommel.” He sat down heavily on a free chair. “I seemed more an oddity, a curiosity, than a person to them, though I suppose that makes sense, being a Pony in a Gryphon land.”
Hammer Strike gave a brief chuckle. “Funny. I couldn’t get much of a word in with most Gryphons. They avoided me, actively trying to stay out of my sight at times. The few I did converse with either didn’t know who I was or were trying their best to keep a straight face to show they were made of something tougher. They still couldn’t keep the fear out of their eyes. I don’t know why they try, truth be told.”
“We’re a race that’s spent millennia honing the art of war,” Grif told Hammer Strike. “We repelled the Alicorns, we bloodied the Pegasi, we chased the Diamond Dogs underground, and we raid the Minotaurs for fun. In all of our collective history, we have had only one opponent so prolific as to hand us a total defeat. And according to records, that was you.”
Hammer Strike hummed. “I still wonder how much of written history is right about these things. The idea of me being a force more destructive than what is supposed to be an empire of Alicorn’s…. It just doesn’t feel too right to me.”
“They don’t feel right to me either,” Pensword respond as Lunar Fang divebomb kissed his head. “Still, we should be ready for the next event.” He looked at those on the bridge. “We will be the first Ponies to even be nearby a royal Gryphoninan wedding, not to mention an imperial one.”
Me-Me glowed with pride as she inspected her newest iteration of soldiers. The metallic red ‘Lings were twelve percent larger than the last generation, with a thicker, but lighter shell that allowed them greater maneuverability in combat. She could already see the vast improvements as she watched them spar. After a careful consultation with Silver Spear, she’d added several additions to their brain chemistry based off the readings they’d gained from his own. Already, she could tell they would be much more effective in combat. Furthermore, she began to notice more originality and sense of self amongst her children. Some were beginning to sprout manes in a variety of colors.
Further down the chamber, she eyed her newest project, the heavy drones. She’d taken her basic soldier design, and adjusted it to something similar to the stag or rhinoceros beetle. They all were seventy-five percent more muscle and sinew than their bothers, with shells made of thicker, sturdier chitin. They would be much slower to adjust in combat, but anything in front of them could be crushed. According to her analysis, they should be strong enough to punch a hole straight through her mother's behemoth drones without much effort. And being less than half the size meant they would be easier to lay and sustain. She’d have to remember to thank Grif for the extra human books on genetics, and surprisingly, engineering. It had come as a shock to her to discover that many concepts humans could do with machinery, she could mimic within the genes of her children. The effects were already obvious. By adding additional iron to the diet of every Changeling, she was able to genetically create a gland that harvested the additional iron, and converted it in the use of creating a bio-organic metal, which was grown right in the surface of the shell.
<Sister,> the smaller Princess spoke anxiously as she strode in, and looked about the cavern, particularly at the newer units in the hive. She quickly made her way to the queen’s side. <How long do you plan to torture me with this waiting, before you place me through the forced change? It is your right to force me to become your next heir, if you so desire, after all.>
<I would never torture you, Pupa,> Me-Me responded gently, <nor will I ever force you to do something you wouldn’t wish to do yourself. I will create my own royal daughters, when the time is necessary. You have nothing to fear from me.>
<Then what is to become of me? You’ve kept me from starting my own hive, and you’ve tied my mind to you and your first consort.> A mental whimper passed through. <Will I become nothing more than materials?>
Me-Me’s mind recoiled at the thought. <Mother may have made it so your body would be prepared for a hive by now, but you're not ready yet, my dear sister. Your mind is not yet mature enough to handle the burden of a hive on your own, which was no doubt a plan of mothers to keep you subservient to her, even after she was forced to step down. You couldn’t even sense my intentions, despite the link we share.> Me-Me nuzzled her sister gently, encouragingly. <One day, my sister, I will release you to do as you will. But until I know you’re safe from Mother’s scheming, I will keep you here, where you can grow, learn, and adapt at your own pace.>
Pupa furrowed her brow. <What has this hive become? You speak like no queen has ever spoken before.>
<Free,> Me-Me answered simply. <This hive is not a slave to one mind. It doesn’t march to the will of one singular note, but rather, we all sing together for the betterment of each other and those who help us. In this way, we ensure safety and security to everyling from the mighty praetorian to the humble worker to the queen to the smallest larva.>
Pupa gave her a very confused look. <That … sounds like chaos,> Pupa muttered. <What’ll the council say, if they learn of this?>
<The council of queens only hold power within the Badlands, Sister.> Me-Me laughed. <I would be greatly entertained to see them try and force their will on this hive this far into Equestria with Hammer Strike living above it.>
Pupa’s eyes widened. <The one that went after our queen lives above us? I thought he lived with Celestia and Luna.>
<Pupa, you weren’t at the attack on Canterlot,> Me-Me said sadly. <You haven’t seen the crimes our mother is guilty of. Lord Hammer Strike is a good Pony. Had he not stood before her, Mother would have hurt a good many innocent beings, and doomed our race to extinction.>
Pupa flinched as a barrage of images and sensations flooded her mind. She saw the carnage, felt the single-minded will to swarm, harvest, and feed. While this was perfectly natural for a hive, she still couldn’t suppress a shudder. She felt the lust, the relish in the pain. The harvest brought a cruel sort of pleasure, one Pupa did not wish to feel again.
<Think on what you have seen and felt, little sister. Those came directly from my personal memories of the battle, and my memories of service under Mother’s control.>
Pupa did her best to keep a straight face as she looked up to the queen. <I … will try.> The emotion was raw, the imprint too real for any major alterations to have been made. That left her with some very unpleasant thoughts to consider. She got one concept, however, a glimmer of a thought from the queen’s worried consciousness. Even if she was a welcome guest in the hive, she was also a political prisoner.
Pensword banged his head on the mess hall table. “Grif, do we have to listen to every single flyer that lands on our ship with offers of resupply or rest overnight? I don’t know which is better: them shaking in their feathers or being superfans at seeing the Avatar and the Demon. I am just….” Pensword sighed, trailing off.
“I’m not sure how the laws of hospitality work for Thestrals,” Grif said as he eyed Pensword, “but to Gryphons, the laws are just as strict for the guest as for the host. We are flying over their lands. We are using their airspace. To ignore them or refuse to see them would be a grievous insult, and dishonorable. Most of them are used to clan leaders or kings demanding goods or services without a second thought. If I’m going to change my people, I might as well start with the small things.”
“I know, I know,” Pensword moaned. “But can we try to keep the mood whiplash to a minimum? I get ready to fight verbally, and they are nice. I am ready to greet them in a friendly manner, and they react with anger and fear.”
“Then be stone faced,” Grif told him. “Ambivalence will at least keep you from making the wrong move.”
“Well, hard to be ambivalent when you don’t understand half of what is being spoken.” He looked at the table. “I wish I had Matthew’s mind for language, but I don’t.”
“Even if he did, I don’t think it would help him learn a language with no Earthly equivalent, save for birdsong,” Grif noted.
“I know that, but Matthew is stubborn. If he ever gets back to his body, he will try to speak it.” He shook his head ruefully. “He wishes to remind you, how many nights did I go off on some random historical topic full speed without a care?”
“I’d wager a countless amount of times,” Hammer Strike commented as he entered the area. “What’d I miss?”
“Pensword’s getting antsy at all the people trying to either get favor from me or keep you from scorching their land with fire,” Grif noted. “He’s also put off that he can’t understand our language.”
“With all the Gryphons around New Unity, I’m sure if you’re desperate, someone could potentially teach you, or just have a large group of Gryphon mercenaries at your compound for ten or so years,” Hammer Strike shrugged.
“It is slow going. Don’t we have one of those translation medallions, or are they all keyed to Draconic?”
“I have some rings, but those are for the wedding, as they're only going to last a few days,” Grif noted. “Other then that, you’ll have to make do with a translator.”
“Very well,” Pensword replied. “Are you at least having fun, Hammer Strike? Or are you getting bored?”
Hammer Strike shrugged. “It’s been interesting. I’m not so much bored as inactive. I find interest in the scenery, but other than that, I’ve been … just kind of sitting here.”
“Not like the old days, huh, partner?” another familiar voice chimed in.
“What was that?” Grif asked.
Hammer Strike had a look of realization as he turned faintly. “Remember the sword I came across in town just a few days ago? Well, say hi to Derflinger.”
Grif chuckled. “Well, of all the blades of eight you could find, that has to be the most hilarious.”
“Yep,” Hammer Strike replied simply.
“You know what the name means?” Grif asked.
Hammer Strike nodded. “Almost fitting.”
“Oh come on, it’s not that funny,” the sword protested.
“What does it mean?” Pensword asked. “It sounds German.”
“It’s Gryphic for smartass,” Grif chuckled. “The sword’s real name is lost. The sword’s personality is developed in such a sense that it has become known as ‘the smartass’ to our history.”
“Well, that does seem–. Did you say Eight Blades? Doesn't Daymoon have another? You said they were lost to time, and yet we have two of the eight.”
“Yes,” Grif confirmed. “This is more the older brother to Shadowsbane. It was made to eat mana.”
“So little bitty Shady finally decided to come out and play with the big boys, did he?” the sword laughed.
Pensword closed his eyes, and began to count backwards from twenty as he breathed in time to steady his nerves.
“Derf is an … old partner,” Hammer Strike started. “Really old partner.”
“Well I’d have him keep himself out of sight for now. Not sure how the Gryphons would react to you, of all Ponies, having one of these swords,” Grif chuckled.
“Oh, it’d be hilarious. I’m almost tempted, but I’ll trust you on it.”
“Very well,” Pensword said as he rejoined the conversation.. “I wonder how everyone is faring back home,” he wondered aloud.
“It’s Equestria. My best guess, chaos with a harmonic resolution on the side.”
Twilight Sparkle ran her left hoof up and down her right hoof nervously as she stood in front of the long house by the Thestral lodge. It had taken longer than the three days. In fact, Fluttershy hadn’t been seen all winter, though from what Applejack had been saying, the animals at Fluttershy’s cabin were still being cared for, albeit with help from Luna’s royal guard.
The doors opened, and Fluttershy walked out of the lodge. Her tufted ears twitched as she squinted to adjust to the harsher daylight. Her pink butterflies had shifted to bats, instead, though the harsh blood red had mellowed out somewhat to a lighter orange.
“Fluttershy?”
Fluttershy smiled, showing her fangs as she pulled an apple from her saddlebag, and took a bite out of it. “Yeah, it’s me.” She finished her snack, then walked up to her friend, and gave her a hug. “And before you say anything, Twilight, I just wanted to say thank you.”
“Thank you?” Twilight yelled, then laid her ears back guiltily. “Sorry for the yelling, but…” She turned her head. “I changed you, Fluttershy.”
The former Pegasus smiled patiently as they broke out of their embrace. “And that’s okay, Twilight. It’s actually the reason why I’ve been gone for so long. When Luna and Celestia heard what happened, they came as quickly as they could. They put me through a lot of tests, and, well … it turns out Pensword was right.” Her voice, while still soft, held a little more confidence behind it.
“And … how did the animals take it?”
“They actually took it pretty well. Angel seems a lot happier seeing me like this, and the rest of the animals still know it’s me in here. I just look a little different is all.” She sighed as he ears drooped. “Mom and Dad didn’t want to join me, though. And my big brother, Zephyr, he’s gone off to some Thestral town somewhere to try hitting on the mares there.” She shook her head disappointedly. “I don’t know if this is his way of trying to find a wife or just a way to try to get over losing Rainbow Dash to a Gryphon.”
“Well I’m sorry to hear about your parents. They don’t mind you being a Thestral, do they?” Then Twilight’s eyes widened as she whipped her head round to gaze at Fluttershy. “Wait. You have a brother? And what was that about Rainbow?”
“Well,” she looked around nervously. “I don’t think I can answer that question in the open area of the Lodge.” She squinted. “Plus, I’d rather not have Rainbow trying to race me just because I have a new set of wings.”
“Sure. Sure. Just....” She sighed. “Let’s get all the surprises out of the way first. Like … have you...?” Twilight glanced guiltily at a patch of grass.
“Eaten meat?” Fluttershy finished. “No, but I havebranched out to other fruit juices, like peaches and pears and Mangos.” She quickly swallowed the drool pooling in her mouth. “It looks like I’m from a fruit bat line. They were all magically changed before Clover got involved. We're about as rare as a prophet in Gryphonia, so, uh … when we go adventuring, I might have some Thestral guards sent to protect me. Like … all the time?”
“How do you know that?” Twilight squeaked. “Even I didn’t know that, and I’m supposed to know everything!”
“Luna,” Fluttershy replied with a chuckle. “She’s been teaching me a lot. And she might have some things to tell you tonight, too, if you don’t mind staying a while? That is, if you want to.”
Twilight smiled in relief. It really was still their Fluttershy. “I suppose I can set aside some time in my schedule. I’ve always wanted to study other cultures, and now that we have a whole new subspecies within the tribes, I have so many questions! Are you nocturnal? What about–?”
Fluttershy just laughed as she led her friend inside, and the doors closed slowly behind them.
The party stood on the bridge as the “fort” came into view. The word couldn’t even do it justice. The structure was massive, even from the distance. The magical display pulsed out to scan the structure, before projecting a holographic rendering. Six major walls circled around the main fortress, each several miles wide, and becoming taller and thicker with each layer of defense. Intermittent air docks held combat vessels at the wait for any aerial counterattacks, totaling a good four battalions. Each dock had a series of towers nearby to cover the launches. Ballistas, lightning rounds, storm core cannons, and many more weapons peeked out from every crevice, waiting to fire on any adversary that would dare to strike their charges. The sixth wall towered over its siblings, constructed by carved stone with multiple overhangs to help fend off barrages and aerial attacks. The roofs of the surrounding buildings had been coated in spikes, making them a deadly trap to friend or foe.
Pensword stared in awe. “This is the Great Western Fortress?” He walked closer to the windows on the starboard side, and looked it over. Even he would have found this fortress a challenge, and that was saying something, given his track record. He was sure that not even a Dragon could hope to take it. He blinked in surprise as his sharp eyes honed in on heavy metal protrusions along the innermost rock face. “Those are hangar doors!” Pensword yelped. “Those things could fit the Gantrithor easily. Just how big did they build their airships back in the day?” Turrets and trebuchets protected the entrance, alongside pivoting barrels that thrummed with electric energy. He watched idly as Caring Circlet pulled up the scanner to identify any other weapons they may have missed, among other things. A sense of uneasiness grew steadily within him the closer they got as ping after ping alerted them to just how strongly fortified this place really was. “This place could take down even the Gantrithor,” he gasped.
“There are two such fortresses in the empire,” Grif explained. “They’re used to house the emperor. He finds safe haven within them in times of trouble. They’re guarded by the Emperor’s Talons, an elite group of Gryphons who are loyal to the emperor and the emperor alone. No enemy has ever breached this place. No force has claimed it. This fort stands a testament to what our people once were.”
“And it looks totally maintained. Just how many are retained just for keeping this place running?” Matthew remembered costs for England’s restoration of major castles, a process that easily ranged in the Millions, if not more. Then again, pollution and grime was not yet known in this world. “Or is that a closely guarded secret?” Pensword added with a laugh.
“Fifty thousand Gryphons,” Grif replied. “Most of them live in smaller domiciles within the stone below, but the barracks keeps no less than twenty-five-hundred ready and able warriors active at any given time. That's not including the servants and laborers. This is probably the one place even clanless can find steady work.”
Vital Spark whistled as he eyed the ramparts, where score upon score of Gryphons stood shoulder to shoulder, glaring out into the horizon. “That’s definitely nothing to sniff at. Have any of the usurpers tried before?”
Pensword looked at the walls as they passed over the first, which was half as tall as the Great Wall from the Kitsune Empire. The width was as thick as the entire Tower of London. Each space between the walls were the length of the Gantrithor. Entire cities could live within the walls, and most likely did to support the complex. “If they did, I would give them … the first wall at most, before being overrun,” Pensword muttered. “And that’s not counting the tunnels and rooms inside the walls. Even I would leave this place alone.” Lunar Fang and Fox Feather stood at either of Pensword’s shoulders as they watched the ship’s shadow pass silently over the second wall. It was here that Grif was able to make out giant shields adorning the walls of the hangar. What surprised him, and maybe unnerved him, was the fact that one of these shields was brand new, and the mark of the Bladefeathers shone brightly upon it.
Above the doors along a ridge that would house archers, and most likely evokers in times of war, were the individual seals for each of the royal bloodlines that had held the bloodstone throne. These seals covered only half the length of the main fortress, which towered over them as they got closer. Flags holding Daedalus’ family colors whipped atop the spires and hung from the walls as they approached. Pensword was still pushing through the calculations. “Grif, if we transported Cloudsdale at its current elevation to this location, the Fortress would be at least sixteen stories above the base cloud levels.”
“Pegasi aren't the only ones who can fly,” Grif chuckled, “but I seriously doubt the schematics for Cloudsdale were handed down by gods.”
“So this is like Noah and the ark?” Vital asked.
“An apt comparison,” Grif nodded. “The winds gave us the plans to build these fortresses, places to go in times of danger or need. According to legend, it took over a millennium to complete them.”
“I believe it. It looks like something out of Maze Runner.”
“What is that?” Pensword asked.
“Think of a giant maze with that many rings or layers, if not more, each with pivoting challenges, changing walls, and attacking you with fearsome, deadly creatures. You’re stuck in the only safe zone in the center as your start point. Problem is, once you find the exit, the safe zone is no longer safe. It was a pretty dark book, but the plot was well written,” Vital said as they passed over the third wall.
“Either way, we can be sure we’ll be safe inside the fortress, so long as we don’t do anything rash,” Grif explained. “Daedalus won’t allow violence, unless it’s reactionary.”
“Of course. And the only violence I will do is in reaction to anything they do to me,” Pensword responded. So since we won’t act first on either side, we can be relaxed.” He breathed a sigh of relief as his wings lowered to his sides, and drooped ever so slightly.
“I’m pretty sure violence won’t be needed from me at all, even if something were to happen to me,” Hammer Strike commented.
“I am not surprised,” Pensword deadpanned.
Grif looked to Avalon and Shrial. “Either of you been here before?” he asked.
Both shook their heads as they looked on. “It really is incredible,” Avalon said as she looked over the houses and armories within the rings. “I wonder if they have anything about the invokers hidden here.”
“Avalon, we’re here to behave, remember?” Shrial added playfully. “It’s a wedding, not a research mission.”
“But Shrial, didn’t you know? Knowledge is one of the best gifts a warrior could ask for,” Avalon said with a teasing smirk.
“There will be time to scour the libraries later,” Grif assured Avalon with a chuckle. “I find it amazing how you can be so energetic so soon after giving birth.” He laughed as he looked back to the cub sleeping on his back.
“We females recover very quickly, you know. Years of putting up with the not-so-fair sex. Present company excluded, of course,” Avalon said as she planted a kiss on her husband’s cheek.
“Well, the doors are beginning to open, and with the slowing down of the engines, and passing over wall four, I think we are going to be docking fully for disembarkation in another five to ten minutes,” Pensword observed.
“Grif, would they happen to have any market districts in this place?” Rarity asked.
“Sort of. It’s more small supply runs amongst the staff. You pay the right person to procure what you need.”
“Oh. I was hoping to get a look at some of their armor for inspiration. It’s not often a girl gets a chance to see other cultures like this, you know.”
“You’ll get a good chance to see our armor, Rarity. There’ll be a few thousand suits of it at the wedding,” Grif smirked.
“And their weapons: usable, ceremonial, and the modern, I think,” Pensword added.
“They won’t mind if I carry a sketch pad, will they?” Rarity asked.
“So long as they don’t try to take her, I’m perfectly fine with that,” Rarity said daintily.
The Gantrithor at that moment slipped from daylight into the belly of the fortress, windows and ledges were build perfectly for the ship. They were able to slip smoothly into the docks as Gryphons stood at attention spread out all over the walkways. A few were flying high up in the air. They could make out five more smaller airships hovering lazily at their moorings. It made for an impressive sight as a series of glow stones were triggered by the workers, giving off the light to see the chamber as the doors began to close behind the ship. Pensword paused. “Grif, the length of this hanger is big enough for two Gantrithors nose to nose.”
“Remember, airship is the common mode of travel for the rich,” Grif explained. “The fortress must be prepared for any number of guests.”
“Reminds me that I need to work more on our airship docks,” Hammer Strike commented, before giving a sigh.
“One thing at a time, Dear. One thing at a time,” Rarity said as she patted her husband consolingly on the back.
The ship soon stopped, and they made it to the gangway to begin their journey down the ramp towards the waiting party on the stone dock.
Grif placed Taze on Avalon’s back as Gilda handed him his weapons harness. He strapped Vigilanceand Vengeanceto his back with care. Once he believed they were sturdy and presentable, he descended down the ramp in a carefully practiced step. As he reached the stone floor of the hangar, the Gryphons along the path thumped their spears. Once he was down, he waited patiently as Kalima, Thalia, Avalon, Shrial, Cheshire, and Gilda disembarked, making sure Shrial and Avalon were right beside him as he walked down the path with the cubs on their backs.
Pensword, Lunar Fang, Fox Feather, Moon River, Day Moon, Inigo, and Cristo began to walk down the steps, with Cosy in front. The Gryphons thumped their spears yet again for the Ponies as they walked past.
Next came Vital Spark in his leather armor. Watcher sat once more on his back as he made his way down the ramp to follow after his friends. The expressions on the guards’ faces remained glaringly neutral. It reminded him of the guards at Buckingham Palace back on Earth.
Afterwards came Hammer Strike and Rarity. If anything were to break the mask of neutrality on the guard, it would be the sight of Celestia’s ghost descending the ramp. To their credit, most remained in position, even as they paled at his sight. Many of the workers in the crowd gasped audibly. It was certain all eyes were on the couple as they crossed the threshold.
Inside the fortress, Grif found himself personally greeted by Daedalus, who was flanked by Jirrac Cloud Claw, fully arrayed in the robes of the Winds Father. Without words, he walked up to each, and grabbed them by the back of the neck, pressing his forehead against theirs in respect and camaraderie. Finally, he took in the third figure, who Grif guessed was Daedalus’s bride to be.
“Well met, Prophetess.” He offered her his talons.
The prophetess was about the size of Grask. Her avian species was very hard to place, but she had a long golden beak with milky white eyes surrounded by black bands. Her feathers were a vibrant red, and her neck stretched longer than the average Gryphoness, almost swan-like, but with thicker muscle, and a little shorter. An emerald-green band popped luminously where her neck met her shoulders. A goldenrod yellow crest jutted out from the top of her head. Her wings mirrored the patterns along her neck with the same bright red leading down to the edges of her primaries, where a white band separated the red from green tips. Grif could tell the feathers had been dyed, and yet, somehow, the colors seemed to be taking hold. Her feline side was lithe and small, somewhere between awkward kitten and fully grown feline. Her fur had been dyed a fresh bubblegum pink, though Grif’s sharp eyes could see the beginnings of change among the Gryphoness’ roots. While some were a lighter brown, others were clearly naturally pink.
“Welcome, Avatar. I’d say congratulations are in order. I hear the songs of new life, yet the cub is named for one that came from another land that few here, if any, shall see.” Her beak turned up in a grin.
“It was my wife's choice to name the cub. I believe if they work so hard bringing the new life into this world, it should be their right to pick the name, and my right simply to suggest.” He took her talons in his own, then kissed the back of them gently, before releasing them.
“Ah,” she replied playfully as her tail swished about. “Still, your words, what where they? ‘Tazeer, my son, may your name cause your enemies to shudder, and your friends to rejoice. And may they sing songs of you from now till time’s end.’” She giggled again. “I have to say, you have an eye for your children’s actions.” She turned her head to look him with one eye. “So, we finally meet beak to beak to beak.” As she spoke, a strange sense of dejavous itched at Grif’s human memories. What did she remind him of?
“Truly a legendary meeting: an emperor, the Winds Father, a prophetess, and the Avatar all in one of Gryphonia’s greatest strongholds for an imperial wedding.”
The white eyes glowed a little. “This wedding has not happened for over a thousand years, not since the crimes and shame committed to our lands, and the loss of our gods.” She turned to look fully again at Grif, her expression serious, and her eyes fully engulfed in white light. “If you wish for death to lose the sting, and regain what will one day be lost, you must meet and accept the dogs’ appeal the week after the bill is passed.”
The growl that emanated from Grif’s throat seemed to echo through the room. Every Gryphon knew ‘the dogs’ could only refer to one thing: Diamond Dogs.
“Will you doom the Winds to never return? Grask’s pride stopped it, and we had to wait till you came again. If Grask had humbled his temper, you would have been born in a golden age, seated at your rightful place as heir to your father’s legacy in the clan.” Melody shook her head sadly. “It is now up to you to bring that age to your children’s children, or else have them suffer another thousand years as we continue to fade.”
“I hear you, Prophetess,” Grif managed, though the words fumbled in his beak. They felt heavy and clumsy. “Thank you for your knowledge.”
“It is nothing, for I have much to regain, and much to make up for the hubris of others. Many wrongs must be righted. Had I been courageous enough to take the path I was meant to in the beginning, much of this bloodshed could have been avoided.” She sighed heavily, then smiled, and warmth filled the room. “But enough of sadness and regrets. In two days’ time, a prophetess shall sit upon the throne, with the child emperor on her right upon the bloodstone, and the Avatar moving at the heed of the Winds. The cubs shall bring back the parents, and restore what light was lost,” she spoke. “It is an old prophesy, one many thought broken when Grask failed. These words were uttered by the last prophetess to have spoken to the Winds themselves. As it was then, so it is now. And as she uttered, so I now utter. These words will be fulfilled, so long as you do not lose your way, Avatar. Her words were heavy. “And with their return shall the fires cool, and healing begin. For on the day a Gryphon sits upon Luna’s Domain shall the hate be cooled completely.” A mix of warm and cool air swirled about them in response. “Now, come. Come. You must have words for my future husband, and myself. Ask away, Grif, son of Graf, Taze, son of Earth.”
“Not so many questions that are important at this time. I have come bearing those you have so honorably invited: my closest family, and a single honor guard; Pensword and his family; and the others you requested. We have finished our business at the estate. In fact,” Grif reached into his bag, and retrieved a string of pearls. He then offered them to Melody. “As I understand it, these belonged to the Lady Bloodbeak, before her death. It would be my honor, if you would take them, my lady.”
Melody reached out a taloned hand, and took them as caressed them against her cheek. The orbs began to shine as the streaks of her tears washed over them. Then she put them on. “The day Mother comes back to me shall be the start of my grandest flight of duty and joy,” she whispered. “These were the last words I gave her, before her passing.”
A suspicion was confirmed as Grif saw her face. “It is sacrifice to do what we believe as right that defines us, my lady. And truly few know the meaning of sacrifice as you do. You are an example to us all.”
“Thank you,” Melody replied. “Your heart is strong through kindness, though kindness shines in the folds of the night now.” She tilted her head, and smiled mischievously. “Still, I hope you will forgive me, if I accept this as returning something of mine, rather than a gift, as we requested in our letters.”
“Perhaps it would be more prudent to have our quarters assigned now,” Grif suggested. “And the rest of our party can have a formal meeting with you when we are all rested,” Grif said, looking to Daedalus.
“Yes,” Daedalus agreed. “I have rooms made for you already. My captains will show you to them.”
“I have things I must do on my own before the wedding. I will see you all soon,” Melody promised as she left to take her leave through a side door. She paused, then turned back to look at Grif. “I am not afraid of any ghosts, be they real or of the living.”
Commander Moonkissed Pensword Hurricane of the line of Pen, Slayer of the Ursa Minor of the Thestral Dream Clan, Conqueror of the Forts Lunar Fang and Triumph, Archduke of the Lunar Court, High Duke of Filly De Ys, Protector of the Crystal Crown, Knight Champion of Prince Bellacosa of the Crystal Empire, Veteran of the Third Gryphon War and the fall of the Crystal Empire, Survivor of the failed Gryphon coup, stood waiting. His wives Lunar Fang and Fox Feather stood with him, with Moon River sitting in front of them. His three Pony sons stood at his side, while his Gryphon Children stood behind him. All were waiting for this private audience. The reason why his mind was rolling over the long list of titles was because this Gryphoness who was to marry Daedalus had used them all, requesting his entire family be present for this ceremony.
It took ten minutes of waiting, before the Gryphoness entered. She had the most unique color pallet Pensword or Matthew had ever laid eyes on. Her pink fur and luminous feathers made for quite the spectacle as the torchlight reflected off of them.
Melody smiled at them all kindly as she stepped into the room. The guards from Daedalus's house stood at attention near the back wall, but one thing Pensword caught right away was that there were no guards on her right side.
“Greetings, Great Knight,” she purred in very clear Equish. “And should I call thee father?” she asked teasingly.
“Father?” Lunar Fang balked, whipping her head around. “If you go back in–.”
“Now now, Mother,” Melody responded with a knowing smirk. “It is not from the past that I call you these things, but for the future.”
“Well that’s … new,” Fox Feather said as she finally found her voice. “Does that mean you’re from the future?” she asked as she smiled back, and raised a playful brow.
“I see one of my mothers gets the joke.” Melody laughed, before turning her attention on the boys. “Ah, the trio.” Her face suddenly hardened as her expression became stern. “The Trio of revenge, they who hid upon a mother’s cry, and watched the act of treachery upon her, who watched as machines within machines forced their father onto a path of joylessness. It is far off, but the day shall come that all three shall see their part of the plan fulfilled.” She slumped a little, then shook her head as her expression softened again. “I am … sorry. I do not control my gift. A phrase, a sound, a smell, anything could set it off, if the circumstances are right. I do have a warning, however, that lingers in my mind. You and your wives must not interfere with the children. Fate has woven their path, and they follow it with conviction. They must have their closure.” The corners of her mouth pulled up in a sly smile. “But that doesn’t mean they can’t get a little push here and there from the shadows.”
Pensword sat down hard. He knew Duke Chivalry's wife died suddenly from the newspaper reports he’d checked up on, not to mention Chivalry’s own account of the matter, but to hear that foul play was involved.... He seethed at the thought, followed by a cold realization that sent ice through his veins. Melody had said the boys witnessed the event. His anger was nothing compared to what those three must have felt every day. And yet, somehow, they still managed to live like normal foals. He felt an even greater love growing for them as he turned to face them with determination in his eyes. “I shall teach all three of you how to harness that rage in combat. It will prove a valuable weapon to pierce your foes, but without temperance, it will do just as much harm to your allies as it will your enemies.”
“That is good.” Melody nodded as she walked past Pensword and his family to the Gryphons at the back. “Ah, my little brothers and sisters, they who saw what the Avatar beheld so many years ago. You have became the closest of any Gryphon since Grif to stand at the Commander's side and live.” She smiled, looked each one in the eye, took in their scents as she paced slowly around them. Then, upon completing her circle, she sat down. “I have this for all of you. Your individual gifts will come later.” She never blinked as her blank eyes stared at each of them. “Your blood will never be pure again. One has already sacrificed that purity. Your fates were sealed the moment you took a blade in the name of Pen. Your lines shall bring about a brand new species, one that will horrify the old guard, and cheer the princesses at the love shown. None of you shall marry another Gryphon. Your hearts will all be snared by those who, in the days of Pensword, were called prey.”
She chuckled as she felt two tiny hooves playing with her feathers at her breast, and looked down lovingly at the cute little blue foal. “Ah, little one, you who take the moon beams and make them your river. You will be a warm heart in a cold world. You will be the first to give birth to a new breed between the Night Court and the crystal. You will bridge the time of lost worlds, and your legend will echo among the stars.”
Then she sighed. “There is more, but she is too young to hear.” She looked down to see the foal toying with one of her fringe feathers. In a matter of seconds, Melody had snipped it off, and preened it away, before clasping it in her beak, and passing it to the young foal. Moon River squealed in delight as the colors flashed in a rainbow as they caught the light. “A gift, little one. Hang it from your personal dream web. The dye will never fade. Trust me.” Then she stuck it into Moon River’s mane between the ears, so its luminous patterns shone on her left side.
“Now I have given each the attention they need. In return, I ask that you honor my only request. For there is only one gift that I truly need for this wedding.”
Pensword furrowed his brow. “May I ask what this request entails?”
“Of course. If you had said yes with no questions, I wouldn’t feel as safe as I do now.” She looked to her guards. “I am of no clan. I have no house of my own to speak of, after I forsook my ties to my father. That is why I only have one side guarded, to show that I have no one to present to my groom to add to the guard. It is not needed, of course. An Emperor can very well marry a clanless, if he so chooses; however, the last to try was called Feeble Beak the Betrayer. His entire clan to fourth cousins were purged from all records, and perished by the sword. Though none would dare raise their sword against a prophetess, any reforms, bills, or measures will be delayed, and all action will be drawn out as long as possible. It will make a certain rainbow-maned pony’s pet appear as fast as his master by comparison.”
She motioned with her tail, and a flagon was brought with drink that she took gratefully, before continuing her explanation. “However, the laws look favorably upon those that come from clans. The more powerful the clan, the better. The most interesting thing about the laws, however, is that they never include the word Gryphon once. The idea of a Gryphon doing something against tradition was unheard of, until Grif showed up. And so, a prophetess who has the protection of the Winds can follow his example. I wish to marry Daedalus, my husband, as Prophetess Pink Fur Melody, born under the rainbow rain of Clan Pen.”
Pensword slowly nodded his head. “Very well. I shall relent.”
“SISTER!” Moon River shrieked joyfully.
“If Moon River sees you as a sister, then I suppose I have no choice but to call you daughter,” Lunar Fang responded.
Fox Feather shrugged. “Why not? Life was getting too regular anyway. Got to shake it up a little.”
“I guess that is true.” Pensword chuckled, before growing pensive. “Is there anything I need to know?”
“Only that when the time comes, Daedalus will loan you a certain number of warriors to wear your clan symbol. They will then take that symbol, remove it from their uniforms, and throw it to the ground to show that their loyalties now lie with Daedalus. According to tradition, once the ceremony is complete, the torn symbols are given back to the original family, along with a copy of a symbol from clan the bride has married into to indicate the ties you’ve made. The copy will hang above the old clan symbol to indicate the change. Now then, I hate to be rude, but I believe the ceremony of adoption is a private affair, and time is of the essence. Pensword, Lunar Fang, Fox Feather, I’ve had a room prepared for the rites, if you would be so good as to follow me.”
The room was little more than an old storeroom with a table that had clearly been brought in for the purpose. The Ponies had to lay down on crates in order to be at the proper height. Melody had nothing but cushions to work with. Four handleless cups sat on the table in a straight line in front of Melody, as if presenting themselves to their superior, a plain brown teapot that steamed at its spout. The only change in the simple design lay at the pot’s center, where the Gryphic symbols for family, past, present, and future circled in a chain. The scent of cinnamon, honey, and unfamiliar spices filled the air. A small sheet of a paper had been written out in Equestrian for Pensword to read, before the ceremony. A brush, a blank piece of parchment, and a shallow silver dish also waited. As a final touch, Melody reached into the folds of her robe, and withdrew an ornate dagger, which she placed reverently on the table.
Pensword stared wide-eyed at the hilt, which was made from pure silver, and looked surprisingly like a certain legendary psychic Pokémon guardian of the sea. Melody smiled as she moved her taloned hands with poise and purpose to lift the pot, then poured the sweet smelling liquid into a cup. She then lifted the cup up, and waved it under her beak, before passing it to Pensword, who accepted it, and repeated the action. Then he lowered it to the table before him, and waited patiently. The ceremony continued in like manner for Lunar Fang and Fox Feather.
Finally, Melody poured for herself, waved her cup under her beak, then around the table to pass under each Pony’s nose. Then she lowered it before her. She bowed her beak, and spoke in Gryphic, and then in Equestrian. “By drinking of this blend, I hereby wish to join my wings with the wings of your clan, clan Leader, for I have lost the old, and wish to blend with a new family.” She raised her cup off the table with both hands, and looked expectantly at Pensword.
Penword looked at the card, and red off the lines. “As Clan Leader, and one who has established his clan with success, I do hereby welcome you to my clan, and invite you to drink of our clan’s blend, for it is not good for a grown Gryphoness to be alone. Drink. Drink, and know our family blend.” He took his own cup, sipped gently. Melody looked to Lunar Fang, who also sipped, and then to Fox Feather, who repeated the action. Melody smiled, and then drank deeply from her cup, followed by the three Ponies.
Once the cups were empty, Melody looked Pensword in the eye, and took a deep breath. “I, who have forsaken my ties of old, do hereby wish to call you Father and Mothers. I wish to take on your friends and your enemies, your debts and your honors. I wish to bring to my new family hope and longevity.” She waited with baited breath as Pensword glanced at the notecard in front of him.
Pensword spoke slowly. “To you who wish to be part of our family, she who has forsaken and cast off her old family will be called hereafter as one of the clan. Your debts of old are washed away with the tea we have drunk. Your honors as well. Upon the close of day, you shall be clothed in the clan’s honor and debts. No longer shall you be called by your old name. From this day Forth, you shall be Melody Pen.”
Pensword picked up the knife, and carefully drew the blade across the skin beneath his hoof, being careful to avoid hitting a vein. A small trickle of blood sprouted from the wound, and dripped into the bowl. Melody repeated the action, and the two bloods mixed. The wounds were then stanched, and bandaged to heal naturally. Healing by magic was not allowed. Next, the brush was taken, and dipped into the mixed blood. In five simple strokes, Melody formed a surprisingly complicated glyph above a portrait of Pensword’s crest. It matched the glyph on the pot perfectly. The ancient glyph for family stood boldly for all to see. A pulse of energy ran across the page, and the blood dried instantly, staining the paper like red ink.
Pensword’s eyes widened in surprise as a familiar taloned hand reached out from behind him, and took the dried paper. Kahn had somehow entered the room without a sound. He took the dried parchment, and rolled it up as one of the guards produced a tube. Kahn proceeded to slide the new scroll gently into it.
Pensword looked to Melody, and nodded. “Welcome to my clan, daughter, even if it is only for a few days. Know that should anything befall you, I would fall upon those that harm thee in the same manner and weight as I would upon those that would harm any of my children.”
Melody smiled warmly. “I am happy to hear that, Father. For in these few days, you will be more of a father to me then that tom ever was for me.” She looked around. “Do you think I could perhaps hunt stuffing with your daughter tonight?”
Pensword chuckled. “I don’t see why not. We do have a six room suite we can use for our fun.” His simle widened into a grin as his laughter spread to Lunar Fang, then Fox Feather, and finally to Kahn as the family rose together to leave, followed by Melody’s silent guard.
“Feel awkward yet?” Grif asked Hammer Strike as the two waited outside to be invited into Daedalus’s private rooms. On their walk over, Hammer Strike had received everything from fearful gazes to one Gryphon who had actually ran when he’d accidentally brushed against the Pony.
“Plenty,” Hammer Strike replied. “Then again, it’s been interesting, since we entered the nation.”
“Well I’m sure if Satan entered Buckingham Palace, he’d get a similar reaction,” Grif chuckled.
“Still amazed that’s the basic equivalent to how I’m viewed.”
“Could be worse,” Grif chuckled.
“How much worse?” Hammer Strike asked curiously.
“Well, they could admire you, and then be challenging you to combat every five-and-a-half minutes,” Grif offered.
“I might like the combat part more.”
“For days?” Grif asked.
“Sure,” Hammer Strike shrugged.
The two would have kept on talking, but the door opened, and they were bid to enter the large luxurious apartment. Daedalus stood ramrod straight, and stone faced, though a sheen of sweat shone on his face as they approached.
“My Emperor, may I present Lord Hammer Strike of New Unity, Lord Protector of the Royal Family, and Champion of Equestria,” Grif introduced.
“A pleasure to meet you face to face, Daedalus.” Hammer Strike gave a small smile.
Daedalus attempted a warm smile, which came out more crooked and awkward. “Pleasure to meet you,” he squeaked out.
Hammer Strike raised a brow questioningly, before his smile softened, and a faint chuckle escaped him. “An understandable reaction.”
“On behalf of the Gryphon people, I’d like to take this opportunity to put the past behind us, so that we may work towards a better future.” Once again, Daedalus’s words came out awkward as he attempted to sound formal.
“Sounds like a grand idea.”
Daedalus offered a shaking set of talons to Hammer Strike.
Hammer Strike extended his hoof, and made sure to be careful not to put force into the hoof shake.
However, the minute his hoof touched Daedalus, the young Gryphon let out an undignified shriek, and in an instant was cowering behind Grif.
“... Well that was unexpected,” Grif chuckled as he turned his head back to gaze on the young ruler. “He’s not going to hurt you, kid.”
“Not at all,” Hammer Strike agreed. “I came unarmed to show I have no hostilities against you or your subjects. As you said, it was in the past. Today is something new.” He shrugged.
“I’m s-sorry,” Daedalus stuttered. “It’s just hard when you’re speaking to someone you’ve been hearing ghost stories about since you were a cub.”
“Understandable.” Hammer Strike let out a soft chuckle. “But have no fear, young one. Most of the stories you heard were probably over exaggerated anyways.”
With some coaxing, Daedalus finally managed to gather his courage, and leave the refuge behind Grif’s body as talons met hoof, and the two shook, affirming the auspiciousness of the event.
“It really is a time for legendary meetings,” Grif chuckled. “Now the Emperor shakes hands with the Ghost.”
Hammer Strike gave a faint chuckle. “To be honest, Daedalus, I’m quite surprised. Most Gryphons I’ve talked to within the empire never tried for a conversation longer than two minutes, and yet you’ve beaten them by double and more.”
“Thank you, Lord Hammer Strike,” Daedalus said, “though I’m still not quite sure whether to take that as a compliment.”
Grif and his family were welcomed by several large armed guards as they approached the rooms of the Farflyer Clan. Two bengal tiger kingfisher Gryphons stood foremost in front of the large stone doorway. Above it, in it’s normal place, the clan’s banner waved proudly, only now it had been adorned with a golden laurel wreath, indicating the clan’s new royal status. Grif’s hand gradually shifted to his side, drawing ever closer to his knife belt as he noted the guards’ stern looks and crossed spears, only for the looks to suddenly change to bright smiles at the last second as the spears uncrossed, and began stamping out a rhythm. Grif smiled as Garrus opened the door, and walked outside the room, followed by a younger male with a surprising mix of blue and gray coloring. His body was the same leonine body as Garrus or Avalon, but accompanied by the head of a merlin.
“Garrus,” Grif offered, touching his beak with respect at the older Gryphon. “And I guess you must be the new king of the region, Your Majesty,” Grif offered with a chuckle and a dramatic sweep of the wing.
“I’d ask if this is the way you treat a brother, but I can tell by that cheeky smirk of yours that this is exactly how you would greet him.” The Gryphon laughed as he walked forward to take Grif in a quick embrace. “It’s good to see you again, Grif. Tell me, how are my little nieces doing? We’ve been most anxious to meet them, since we heard the news, especially the Gryphon determined to win the title of best uncle,” he added with a mischievous wink.
“I have someone else for you all to meet.” Grif smiled as he returned the embrace. “Avalon has been anxious to introduce you, haven’t you, Sweetheart?” Grif said without looking back.
Avalon beamed as she walked slowly past her husband, while holding a tiny white bundle. “Gareth, Father, I’d like to introduce you to Tazeer Bladefeather, my firstborn, and your new nephew and grandson.” She pulled back the cloth to reveal the cub’s black speckled white owl head as it turned cutely back and forth, causing his feathers to ruffle up like a cushion as he nuzzled into the warmth in his sleep.
Garrus smiled gently as he approached his daughter with pride shining in his eyes. He padded softly, then stroked the back of his talon down the cub’s fluff. “Beautiful,” he said with misty eyes as he kissed his daughter on the forehead. “Just like his mother.”
“Careful, Father. You don’t want the others to think I’m the favorite, do you?” Avalon teased.
“Avalon, we agreed by mutual consent years ago. There’s no matter of thinking you’re the favorite. You are,” Gareth said with a chuckle as he gazed on the cub. “How recent?”
“Just a little over a week. He has his father’s stomach,” she teased, winking back at Grif.
“Still, we figured this would be the only time to really get a visit in before things start to get crazy, and I don’t know when we’d be able to speak again. I suppose with the exception of His Highness here, I imagine I’ll be seeing a lot of him over the next few days.”
“Considering I’m the king now, and you’re one of the most important figures both religiously and politically right now, that’s probably a fairly accurate assumption,” Gareth agreed. “Though I think we both know I’ll just be coming to spoil the kids,” he added with a smirk.
Grif chuckled. “So, has there been any talk of who is replacing the other throne openings?”
Garrus shook his head. “Daedalus is playing it close to the vest. Considering his position, I don’t blame him. Surviving two attacks on your life is bound to have an impact on the psyche.”
“Yes. Well, I hope this wedding isn’t simply to gain the protection of a prophetess,” Grif noted. “I know Daedalus is good-natured, but with what he’s been through, it seems like an obvious temptation.”
“Do you think he would say no when she’s told him it’s to be?”
“As long as it’s not an issue of convenience,” Grif said as he wrapped a wing around Avalon, and a second around Shrial. “Marriage should be a matter of the heart first.”
“She is quite the stunner,” Garrus noted. “I wouldn’t be surprised if Daedalus did find at least some attraction there.”
“Don’t let mother hear you say that,” Avalon teased.
Garrus chuckled good-naturedly. “Ah, how I’ve missed you, Avalon.”
“No backsies,” Grif chuckled.
“Speaking of backsies, we should probably make our way back into the dining hall. Mother will flay us alive, if we keep her away from her grandchildren for too long,” Gareth said.
“Winds save us all,” Garrus cried, then laughed as he raced ahead of his daughter and daughter-in-law.
Gareth smiled at the display as he walked slowly after with Grif at his side. “The role of grandfather is settling well with him. I wouldn’t be surprised, if he chose to retire soon, and hand the clan’s affairs over to my brother.”
“You don’t think it’s at least somewhat funny that he’s a grandfather with cubs that are still getting their pinfeathers?” Grif chuckled. “I suppose he’s earned it, though, living as long as he has. Come on. You can find me a drink as thanks for that crown.”
“And then I can beat you over the head with it later for all the headaches it’ll bring me,” Gareth added with a chuckle as he laid a brotherly wing over Grif’s back. The two headed inside, laughing.
“And so, in honor of this auspicious occasion,” the caller read off the long scroll in front of him as he had been since he had entered the dining room fifteen minutes prior. The first part of his speech had been almost all stating the obvious events of the times and the use of long fancy titles. “His Holiness, Emperor Daedalus, and Lady Melody do call for a proving tomorrow, for which any and all Gryphons, be they brave enough, are to be allowed to try and prove themselves, be it in combat, in the races, or by the bow. Warriors may present themselves to qualify at dawn. Clan leaders may send their champions at dawn as well. Prizes will be awarded as befitting the victory. So let it be written, so let it be done.” Said caller looked particularly thankful as he handed the scroll off to a guard, and then made a beeline for the drink table.
“Well, Daedalus certainly is pulling out all the stops for this.” Grif chuckled as he sat amongst his friends at one of the most loaded tables in the immense dining hall. There were more private dining rooms where the higher nobility and clan heads usually preferred to eat, but in the spirit of exploration, the group had decided to find one of the more public spaces. Grif was wondering if Pensword was regretting it as his friend stared across the hall at the tables and tables of Gryphons feasting merrily on the free food.
Pensword had taken to hoarding one full pot of tea to himself with a bowl of sugar as he did his best to keep his hooves from shaking. A pyramid of sugarcane piled at least four rows high in front of him as he decimated piece after piece. He was doing his hardest not to let his PTSD get the better of him at the table, and, in all fairness, was doing quite admirably. Unfortunately, with his heightened sense of hearing, every scrape of a knife or ring of a fork set his reflexes off, raising his heartrate as he struggled to keep himself from overreacting.
“He’s the emperor. I’m guessing it’s sort of expected,” Vital noted as he levitated a chunk of wild boar meat into his mouth, and began to chew. “Not to mention the fact he’s marrying a prophetess. I’m guessing that’s a pretty rare thing in your culture.”
“Well, clairvoyance kinda only pops up once every couple generations,” Grif noted. “And usually, the one possessing it dies in some unforeseen tragedy to everyone else but them.”
“And I’m guessing they chose to just accept the end they saw, rather than try to change the outcome and possibly cause something worse to come about?”
“Sometimes fighting to change one’s fate ends up bringing it upon your head in the first place,” Pensword spoke up, latching onto the conversation like a glittering lifeline. “The Greeks are a prime example.” He eyed the two empty chairs that had been reserved in case the bride and groom chose to roost there for their meal. “Though with what little I have seen, she might live a long, healthy life.”
“I’m pretty sure we can count on that,” Vital agreed. “Granted, I’m no prophet. Just call it a hunch.” He shrugged as he bit into a freshly baked roll slathered with butter. “My compliments to the chefs. They know how to bake good bread.
“Well, one can’t exist on venison alone.” Grif chuckled as he passed vital a goblet. “Try some blud,” he grinned.
“Is it alcohol?” Vital asked suspiciously.
“No.” Grif chuckled. “It’s ripened berry’s boiled down with honey to give it an unsettling red color, and a thickness just more than water. If it wasn’t for the scent, you could mistake it for what it sounds like.” When Vital looked in the goblet, he did see an unsettlingly red liquid within.
“Huh. Reminds me of prop blood.” He took a sip, and smiled. “Mmm … syrupy. If this were Asgard, I’d be throwing this down right now, Thor style.”
“Well, we may not be particularly brilliant chefs, but we do make a decent beverage.” Grif laughed. “Still, a proving. That should be fun.”
“Think they’ll let Hammer Strike enter?”
“Unfortunately, this is a Gryphons only type of deal. It’s probably one of the few things they’d stand up to him about.”
“Needs to be fair,” Hammer Strike commented with a faint grin.
“That, too,” Grif laughed. “Though it won’t be all that fair. A lot of rookies trying to make a name for themselves as they come to fight or shoot against Gryphons with fifty years experience or more.”
“In short, barring being geniuses, they’ll never stand a chance?” Vital asked.
“Not unless some of the older warriors have gotten slower in their old age. The bow in particular is often hilarious. So many younger ones think it’s about aim. Foolish.”
“If it isn't aim, then what is it about?”
“Well, normally, it would be about aim, but when you have an avian-feline mixed heritage, good eyesight isn’t exactly a rare trait. We use clay disks thrown at around the same time at different positions. Your score is based on how many you can break with a single shot, so it’s about timing more than aim.”
“Just like shotgun shooting back home.” Vital grinned. “Mmm. I miss that.”
“Anyway, it’s not so easy to time your arrow for the sweet spot, especially as the distance that some disks need to be thrown is different as you go further down. It becomes a matter of instinct, and instinct is honed best after years of trusting it. As such, the Veterans tend to do better in provings.”
Pensword took a more steady sip of his tea. “So, are you going to compete then, Grif?”
“Probably, but just the bow. I’d hate to have the kind of publicity that comes from the arena.”
“And if Daedalus asks you to do it as a special event?” Vital asked.
“I’ll politely refuse.”
“And you can get away with that?”
“Technically, I’m not only not a Gryphonian citizen, but I also am one of the major religious figures in the country. He can’t touch me.”
“And, of course, you don’t really care about politics and political standing, so there’s no grip on you there either.”
“Now you're getting it,” Grif chuckled. “Frankly, I probably scare the more powerful clan heads just on the implication alone, wielding so much power without the drawbacks usually attached to it.”
“Well, you certainly put the fear of Faust into Trixie, if memory serves,” Vital teased as he nudged the mare in question with an impish smirk.
Pensword paused and blinked. Did he just see a Gryphoness pout at the display Vital showed with Trixie. A moment later he let a small smirk form on his muzzle as he took another sip of his tea.
“Trixie wasn’t scared. She was merely … startled,” Trixie responded as a violent blush rose in her cheeks.
“Whatever you say, Trixie. Whatever you say.” Vital was promptly rewarded by having his drink dumped over his head. Surprisingly enough, he laughed at that, then shook his mane, spattering Trixie, and eliciting several giggles as her pout dropped helplessly to a playful smile.
Rarity leaned in to nuzzle Hammer Strike. “So, how long do you think those two will last before he pops the question?” she whispered.
“Not certain, but I don’t see it being too long.”
Pensword grinned. “Hopefully before next spring.”
“You realize it has to be May, or you still lose. Spring isn't entirely yours, right?” Grif looked to his old friend with a smirk.
“Yes,” Pensword whispered back. “But I don’t know what month she will start indicating she is available.”
“Start with the basics for now, Pensword,” Grif said. “Worry about those details later.”
“Okay, but … shouldn’t we at least get a dance going, like you did with Lunar Fang and me?” Pensword muttered back.
“I have no idea what you're talking about,” Grif denied.
“Still, we have planning to do later,” Pensword continued. “I suppose we can’t push too fast.”
“Use a mallet, not a hammer,” Grif agreed.
“Um … why are we talking construction tools?” Vital asked. A blush had risen on his cheeks as Trixie kissed him there.
“We’ll tell you when you’re older,” Grif responded.
“Of course. After all, I still need an adult,” Vital added with a mischievous wink.
“I am an adult,” Trixie said as she smiled at him, and wiggled her eyebrows.
“Then could you perhaps accompany this minor onto the dance floor later this evening, m’lady?”
Trixie sighed. “It seems like the responsible thing to do.” Then she giggled.
“Then it’s a date.” He leaned in, and nuzzled her gently, before planting a hesitant kiss on the side of her cheek.
Pensword was very much enjoying this exchange as he snuck a nuzzle with Lunar Fang and Fox Feather. He looked to Grif after. “So we have dinner, and you mentioned a dance floor. When does the dancing begin?”
“When someone starts a song.” Grif shrugged a second, before someone began banging on a nearby table in rhythm. “Which would be any minute now.”
Pensword jumped at the banging, but Matthew was excited to see the curious behavior. “Matthew should have been an anthropologist,” he muttered in Draconic as he shook his head.
The colosseum was a vast underground chamber, more than six hundred yards across, and two hundred yards wide. It was carved straight from the granite with massive stone benches forming the seating for the common Gryphons, and a large elaborate box set up on the north end very reminiscent of Caesar. The floor of the colosseum had been carefully packed with fresh earth. Through some mysterious means Grif couldn’t explain, grass covered it in a thick coat. Immense statues of Gryphons sat proudly on their pillars, facing the four cardinal directions. Their beaks pushed up into the air, as if they were holding up the roof.
“So, what is the first event?” Pensword asked as he looked around. “Tell me that they will put things together to create ship battles.”
“Sadly, no.” Grif chuckled. “Gryphons haven’t needed to do sea combat for more than twelve hundred years.”
Pensword, no, Matthew pouted with a humph. “That’s no fun.”
“What, you can’t enjoy the architecture of it all?”
Pensword looked at Grif. “I am. I am. So is Matthew. But to him, this is an underground version of an architectural wonder from the old world. And it seems they had naval combat … on land.” He paused, and looked to Grif with narrowed eyes. “Humans will do anything they put a mind to, won’t they?”
“Doesn’t seem like much point to that,” Grif shrugged, “especially considering the airships.”
“Never stop dreaming,” came the sudden response. Again, that was most likely Matthew. He’d been becoming more vocal of late. Pensword shook his head. “Still, what is the first event?”
“The racing,” Grif sighed. “It’s the least … exciting of the three.”
“Well, still going to be fun. Matthew liked watching the track matches for the Olympics, and I am sure it is flying involved here.”
“What gave you that idea?” Grif snickered.
“Wings,” Pensword responded flatly. Then his deadpan expression lightened into a smile. “Oh, there you are, Vital, Trixie. Did you get lost?”
“It took nearly an hour to find our way here. Somebody refused to rely on Trixie’s excellent navigating skill.”
“You mean the skill that made it so you didn’t want to ask directions?” Vital asked flatly.
“Wait, I thought it was the Stallion who doesn’t ask for directions?” Pensword asked in confusion with his two wives giggling.
“Trixie knew where she was going,” Trixie huffed.
“Yes, clearly,” Vital said as he rolled his eyes. “Which is how we wound up halfway to the second ring, before you let me ask where we should go.”
“It was a detour,” Trixie defended.
“A detour that led us to a group of young Gryphons who were making their way to the colosseum, and were kind enough to let us follow them, after we paid them to let us.”
“We did get here, didn’t we?”
Vital sighed, then shook his head. “... Trixie, what am I going to do with you?”
“Marry her?” Pensword teased under his breath.
“All in good time, darling. All in good time,” Rarity whispered as she leaned past Lunar Fang. “You can’t rush these things, you know.”
Pensword just smirked in response.
“So, is it just me, or are they moving thunderheads up there on purpose?” Vital asked as he pointed up into the sky, where darker clouds were shifted and set alongside their whiter, fluffier cousins. A few bolts of lightning would crackle along their edges occasionally as the Gryphons setting them in place handled them cautiously.
“They are.” Grif nodded. “They must be getting ready to make it interesting.”
“What gets me is that they have a thunderhead … indoors,” Pensword whispered in surprise, and a spark of respect.
“Well, a test of speed wouldn’t be complete without testing the competitors’ skills in flight,” Vital noted. “I guess dodging thunderbolts is gonna be part of it.”
“You know how Rainbow Dash is always setting up crazy stupid courses for herself?” Grif looked at them. “Gryphons can be twice as bad about it.”
“I wonder if Rainbow actually got the idea from Gilda in the first place,” Vital wondered.
“No, it’s pretty common for flyers. The extra adrenal gland makes us more competitive.”
“The boys are usually much worse than the girls, but there are always some exceptions,” Avalon said with a playful smile as she held her baby close, and preened his feathers. “Which means this little one will probably be quite the handful.”
“Just wait till after he’s old enough to start playing with the twins,” Shrial said with a grin.
“Funny. From my experience, Avalon, you are the only exception to the competitive streak I’ve seen. Shrial still holds the fact she got more heads than me while taking Fort Long,” Grif chuckled.
“It’s called flirting, dear,” Shrial pointed out. “Or have you forgotten that part of courting?” she jabbed as she wiggled her brow playfully.
“Flirting involves a three minute long victory dance?” Grif returned with a grin.
“Considering how I was dealing with an independence rush, I think you can give me a pass on that one,” she pointed out coolly, albeit with a bit of a blush beneath her feathers.
“Just saying there is nothing in the history of our species that says males are specifically more catered to be competitive. Heck, more of our athletes are female.”
“Let’s save the discussion for the bedroom, shall we, dear? I’d rather not get into a debate on feminism versus competitiveness and potential biological contributors just now.”
“Of course, dear. Anyway, I’ll be happy to watch the race. I heard Genevieve arrived late last night, and I’m going to guess that I know why I haven’t seen her yet.”
“Prep for the race?” Vital queried.
“Likely. She takes racing very seriously.” Grif chuckled. “Only reason the wedding’s taking so long.”
“Makes a girl wonder whether she might come in last when it comes to marrying you,” Avalon teased.
“I hope that's not jealousy talking,” Grif noted. “You know I love you all, right?”
“Just joking, Grif. You know we already agreed to letting you marry the number you need, especially after your meeting with a certain bird.”
“Yes, but I worry you two might think I’d start picking favorites.”
“Have you so far?” Shrial countered.
“Of course not.” Grif chuckled. “Anyway, did you girls bet on anyone in particular to win?”
Both shook their heads. “A little bit of a rush with settling in, Dear,” Avalon pointed out.
“Well then, how about we sit back and enjoy the race?” he said as he took a seat near the top of the colosseum.
“I suppose we should,” Avalon sighed.
“Though with Genevieve here, I feel sorry for the rest of the competitors,” Shrial noted.
Grif grinned as he looked down below to the starting line, eyes locking onto a familiar blue-and-gray figure. ‘Give em hell,’ he thought.
And with that thought given, the signal sounded, and the race began.
True to Shrial’s prediction, Genevieve had won the race in her cousin's name. It had been a very impressive feat to see, involving not only a foot race, but also a corkscrewed obstacle course higher and higher into the air. Each racer had to collect pieces of an emblem as they went, in order to advance to the next height, while dodging inclement weather of different varieties. All in all, the race had taken less than ten minutes, but the preparation beforehand had built the hype to such a state that it was well past half an hour before the crowds had calmed down.
It took another half hour for the arena to be reconfigured to allow for the moving targets to be placed. So it was an hour later that Grif found himself waiting at ground level for his chance to shoot. He grinned to himself as he tested his bow, pretending to ignore the gazes falling on the weapon. For reasons unknown to Grif, the ruby was shining softly in the torchlight. He waited ten minutes, twenty minutes, an hour. He lost track of time as he worked on his father’s legacy. It wasn’t until someone tapped him on the shoulder that he’d realised his turn had come.
“And now, under the eyes of the four Winds and his ancestors, shooting for the name of his own clan, Grif Bladefeather, son of Graf, and leader of clan Bladefeather, the Avatar of Winds!” the announcer roared as Grif took to the shooting area. The targets had already been reset, and swayed back and forth in front of him in peculiar rhythms that weren’t completely in synch, but every so often, the targets would align just for a moment, before parting again.
Grif took a deep breath as he raised the bow, already having an arrow notched as he pulled the string back. He took his time, eyeing the targets carefully. Naturally, the inventors of this course had been prepared for a Gryphon’s ability to dilate their perception of time, so that would be no help at this time. Skill and luck. That was all it would take. Grif calmed himself as he tried to predict the targets’ path.
“See where they’re going,” the old gravelly voice played through his head. “Take your time. Let the shot come to you.”Grif could almost feel the talons on his shoulder as a familiar red reticle suddenly appeared in his vision. Grif blinked in surprise, and checked the feathers on his arrow to confirm he wasn’t using one of Graf’s. He wasn’t. So what was going on? Inside the red, a smaller field of blue spun speedily, stopping once or twice when some of the outlying targets seemed to match. What the heck was going on? The black bow had been made with many enchantments. Grif knew this. The bow’s surface was lined with runes so small they were nearly indiscernible, but all of them drew power from the ruby, and the ruby had never been able to pull this much power before. A blinding gold light from Grif’s left side caused him to squint for a moment. When he opened his eyes again, the red circle and the blue circle had stopped, and a gold dot snapped into place in the very center. Grif released the arrow without so much as a thought.
There was silence in the arena, and Grif swore under his breath, cursing his impatience. He braced himself, and looked up to see just how badly he’d scored, only to find the arrow dug into the far wall, with shards of broken clay littering the ground between him and said wall. The sound of clapping echoed into the arena from the royal seats. Then someone else clapped. Soon the whole arena rang with applause as Grif looked around in disbelief.
“We’ll I’ll be damned.” The announcer chuckled under his breath. “I’m going to have to look up how to score that one. Don’t think I’ve heard of someone penetrating all the targets before.”
Grif was too stunned to speak as he was led out of the arena. His head thrummed with questions. How he’d made that shot was the foremost. He’d expected to break a few targets, but the arrow usually lost power before it reached the end. And what in the Winds’ names had been that light? Unnoticed by Taze, the topaz twinkled in the low light, and a soft blue light trailed on the ground below him as he walked past.
Pensword and the other ponies stood in shock at the display. The commander had to blink twice, just to be sure. For a moment, he was sure he saw Grif’s father standing behind the competitor. He shivered, and bristled his feathers as he listened to murmurs he was certain nobody else would hear. It would seem Grif’s performance had surprised more than just the living. He tried to keep a calm face as he began to hum a childhood nursery song his mother would sing to him to try to drown them out.
“You doing okay, Pensword?” Vital Spark asked.
“Ghosts,” was all he said as he returned to his humming.
“That many?”
“Yes. This is an old, old place,” Pensword hissed. “Now pleaselet me be, before I start clamoring and get turned into a glorified spiritual messenger service. I am here to support the wedding, not play the medium.”
“You really should talk with Luna about a way to control that. She probably has a spell or scroll designed to help,” Vital noted, before turning back to the uproar from the arena. “So who here went and bet everything they had on Grif?”
Pensword raised a wing. “Alicorns are different. Besides, it is part of my burden to learn to tune it in and out. Besides, I enjoy the older places, despite the ghosts. I suppose that historian in me just won’t quit.” He smiled faintly, even as he clenched his eyes shut, and shook his head.
“Okay. So, uh … the bet?” Vital pressed again.
“Vital Spark, it’s rather impolite to ask such a thing of a lady,” Rarity pointed out. Perhaps it might be best to move to another subject.”
“That smile of yours indicates you bet a lot on him, and just won big time.”
“That, Vital Spark, is none of your business.”
“Which is Rarity speak for yes, you did.”
“Well, I never!”
Trixie chuckled as she elbowed Vital gently on the side. “Good one,” she complimented him.
“One does try one’s best,” he flirted back with an impish grin.
“A pity family members aren’t allowed to join in the bets,” Avalon sighed ruefully. “We could’ve made a killing.”
Kalima chuckled. “Something’s telling me you still will, girls,” she said as she turned to face Gilda. “And what do you think of Grif’s performance?”
Gilda blushed. “Okay, I guess I can say that was pretty cool.” She folded her arms as she tried to avoid eye contact with the other females.
Kalima just smiled knowingly.
“I’m looking forward to seeing how the fighting styles have changed here,” Shrial noted. “It’s been over a thousand years since I last came to the empire.”
“Just watch out for wandering eyes, Shrial,” Kalima teased.
Shrial couldn’t help but laugh. “Careful, Kalima. Otherwise, I might just sic the twins on you.” The two girls perked up, having heard the adults talking about them. They looked curiously at Kalima, who simply smiled in return.
“Ah, but I know something that you don’t know, young Shrial.”
“And what, pray tell, is that?”
Kalima chuckled. “Younglings adore their grandparents. And like any grandparent, I would spoil them rotten, before sending them right back to you.”
Shrial clapped her hands slowly. “Well played, Old One. Well played.”
Kalima bowed her head slightly with a mischievous smile. “One does one’s best.”
Pensword looked at Grif with a tired expression. Stack upon stack of blank paper and inkwells lay in wait for his hoof to write. “Thank you, Vital,” he groused. Grif caught sight on one letter addressed to Emperor Daedalus from his grandfather. A quick scan revealed the pride the spirit held for his descendant. “So, Grif, why did I see your dad out there?”
“He was out there?”
“Talon on your shoulder. Looked like he was whispering advice,” Pensword confirmed. “And thanks to Vital, I got twenty ei–.” He paused, and grabbed a piece of paper. Two, actually. After jotting down a series of quick notes, he sighed. “Make that thirty letters to deliver to the Empire ranging from asking to stop a wedding, so that Gryphon can marry someone else, and then there are revenge requests, requests to end revenges caused in error, and just ….” He groaned, then waved a wing over towards the hard stone walls of the room. “Hi, Mom. I’m okay.”
“Any of them offering anything of value for revenge? Locations of gold caches, etc., etc.?” Grif asked.
“To whom? I have ten revenge plots, three of them are riddles, two are just saying that they know where the staches are to use, and two are saying that they won’t tell where their inheritance is, until after they kill the killer.”
“Write them down,” Grif chuckled. “If they check out, maybe I can make some money while we’re here.”
Pensword sighed. “Just don’t take the inheritance ones. Their families might need them.”
“I’m sure they’d be willing to pay for the info,” Grif countered. Then he frowned. “You sure you’re okay?”
“Three hours, Grif. Three hours of having to be a messenger for the dead. It started with three cubs wanting to say they’re okay to their families. Then it just spiraled out of control.” He looked at the table, and pulled another paper, paused, then banged his head repeatedly on the surface as he wrote without looking. “Thanks so much, Grif. Now they want to hire the Avatar or me for revenge. Now I’ll never get peace.”
“Tell whoever it is that you want twenty beaks to deliver their, message,” Grif told him, then held a silencing talon as Pensword prepared to object. “Just trust me.”
“All right,” Pensword growled. He closed his eyes, then opened them a few seconds later. “And three just told me where I could get the beaks,” he deadpanned as he began to write again. “But at least they’ve calmed down somewhat. The room isn’t so crowded.
“I thought that might help.” Grif smiled as he turned to leave, but a pleading look from Pensword stayed his paws as the constant scratch of the quill’s nib against the paper filled the room.
Suddenly, Pensword shook his head. “Ten Beaks only,” he muttered. “Family discount.”
Grif’s head whipped up from the daggers he’d been polishing, and his gaze focused on the shifting scrawl. The paper and pen moved much slower this time. Or perhaps it was merely Grif’s impatience. “Ten beaks, Grif. You’ve got a letter.”
Grif almost slammed the bills on the table, taking the page in his talons with a near reverence. He hesitated a few moments, before stuffing it in his armor. “If it’s all the same to you, I think I’d rather keep this for when I’m alone.”
“Of course.” Pensword nodded his understanding. “Just … Sorry I had to charge you. Got to keep consistent, if that plan of yours is going to work.” He furrowed his brow, and sighed as he continued recording. “Grif, could you have the attendant who delivers your tea tonight give you twenty beaks for this letter from her grandfather?” he asked as he rolled the paper, sealed it, and handed it to the Gryphon. “Also, for all the rest of you spirits listening, I am closed. I need sleep and time with my family. Work me too hard, and you will all put me in an early grave, and then you’ll lose your chance to get these letters out. In other words, buzz off!” he shouted. His torso heaved a few times as he forced his body to calm down. Then he sighed. “Glad they got the message.” He rose from the table, and stretched, cracking a few bones in his neck and wing joints. “Good night, Grif,” he said tiredly as he made his way towards the door.
Grif chuckled. “Now you're thinking like a Gryphon, Pensword.”
Pensword shuddered from nose to tail as he stuck a hoof on the door frame to maintain his balance. “Faust have mercy, if I ever grow a beak,” he whispered in horror.
Extended Holiday Ch 124: A Wing and a Prayer Act 18
Grif fidgeted as he strapped a heavy plate mail chestpiece on, and tightened the straps. “I come halfway across freaking Equis to give him moral support, and the day of the wedding, he’s insisting on me wearing this,” Grif grumbled loudly. “Thing weighs a ton, and moves like an elephant.”
“Ceremonial garb, Grif. If he expects to keep his favor with the people, he’s going to have to edge them slowly away from the old traditions. In other words, this wedding has to be by the book,” Vital pointed out as he cinched up another strap on his leather armor with his magic. “And you do strike an intimidating figure like that.”
“Intimidating is all it gives me. I can’t move like this. Why couldn’t the ceremonial platemail be medium or light armor?” he growled as he tested the range of movement, then let out another scoff, while he strapped on the bracers, pauldrons, and so forth. He frowned disapprovingly as he looked himself over one last time.
Pensword had just finished pinning his medals and sashes on his ceremonial armor when two Gryphons approached bearing what, for all intents and purposes, looked like a platter the size of a cookie sheet. “I think it's about to get heavier.” The Gryphon on the right shifted a hand to pull off the tray’s lid, revealing row upon row of medals, sashes, and awards.
Grif looked to the Gryphons with a deadpan expression. “I think you have the wrong room, gentlemen. I haven’t been awarded anything,” Grif noted.
The Gryphon on the right shuffled his hindpaws. Much like Grif, he also had a panther’s body. “Uh, well,” he cleared his throat, “these are meant for the Avatar, and … some of these were mailed to us by Princess Celestia to present to you for your actions in the Third Gryphon War.”
The first one at the top left bore the symbol of the Monastery of Winds. “Most of these are ceremonial orders. So long as he has these, the Avatar has the right to sit in council with Daedalus. Or he may send a representative in his stead,” the Gryphoness said as she smoothed her stubborn blue feathers back into place. The blue blurred into the smoky gray fur of her Russian Blue lower body. Her voice was clear, vibrant, and well-controlled as she trilled. “The medal in the middle there represents the rank of Avatar. You’re to wear it over your breastbone.”
“So this was sent by the Winds Father, then?” Grif asked as he took it, and proceeded to place the two medals as best he could on his armor.
“Yep,” the Gryphoness chirped cheerfully. “Along with a few authorized by Daedalus for saving his life.” She giggled as Grif struggled to pin them properly, while also dealing with the bane that was his limited mobility. “As you can see, that’s his seal on the shield. The others here are for your friends from the coup.” She nodded to Pensword, who flapped his wings, and picked up the medal. He furrowed his brow.
“Now I need to figure out where this would go on my uniform,” Pensword muttered, before nodding. He fumbled with it a few times, before finally finding a space on the bottom of his many rows of awards and honors.
Grif picked up a ceremonial dagger in the shape of a falchion sword. “And this, I take it, is the Emperor's falchion?” he asked as he fastened it. He received a nod, and then a look of scandal as he proceeded to fasten the ceremonial sashes around his chest in an X-shaped fashion. He just smiled. If he had to go out like a Hearth’s Warming tree, he was going to do it his way. He placed the engraved pauldron on his right shoulder, but refused the matching one in favor of his topaz buckler. He also refused the fancy sword belt that came with the armor for his own. Fortunately, no one had a word against him wearing Vigilanceand Vengeance. As if any blade they offered could compare. The armor lacked places for any more than a couple of extra knives, and he felt naked without his usual bandolier. “I feel like a Hearth’s Warming pageant,” he sighed, looking at Vital. “Wanna trade?”
Vital just smiled back, and shook his head as the Gryphons made their exit. “Nnnnope,” he said in a surprisingly good impersonation of Big Mac.
“After all the times you’ve teased me and edged me on, would I really do that to you, Grif?”
“I know where you live,” Grif said bluntly.
“And that makes two of us,” Vital finished.
Pensword grinned, and started giggling. “Vital learned teasing!”
“He canbe taught!” Vital said with a satirical smirk.
“Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up,” Grif said good-naturedly. “Wonder where Hammer Strike is.”
“Probably helping Rarity get ready. She takes a long time to decide sometimes. I can’t help but wonder if he’ll help speed things along for her. What do you guys think?” Vital asked.
“Depends on if they decide to do some marital stuff first,” Pensword muttered. “Admittedly, this is the most dressed up I have been in a long time.”
“What about the wedding?” Vital countered.
Pensword rolled his eyes. “Okay, it feels like a long time.”
Vital reared up on his hind hooves, and struck his forehooves to his chest. “Oh, the feels. The feels!” Then he dropped back onto the ground, and burst into a fit of laughter, before finally stopping to wipe the tears from his eyes. “Okay, okay. Sorry. I just couldn’t resist.”
“Yeah, we’ll make sure to bring it up in the wedding speech when you and Trixie finally tie the knot,” Grif chuckled.
“Only if you do it while performing the closing musical number from the first Shrek movie, including choreography.”
“You do realize we’re in a world where Ponies fall in line to a broadway standard musical number at the drop of a hat, no prep time needed, with choreography included, right?”
“Eeeeyup,” Vital said with a grin. “Seriously, can you imagine how much fun a number like that would be?”
“Well at least Trixie would probably enjoy it more than Sunset,” Grif chuckled. “She seemed more the AC/DC type.”
Pensword’s ears twitched and he began to hum the beginning of Thunderstruck.
“I figure I’ll introduce her to Queenor The Beetles,” Vital said with a shrug. “Both are great groups.”
“No Rush?” Grif chuckled.
“Why would I rush?” Vital asked, confused.
“Rush? The rock band? 2112? The Temples of Syrnx? Really, how have you not heard of them?” Grif actually looked shocked.
“Nope. Not ringing any bells.”
“Well, now I know what you're doing all the way back to Equestria.” Grif chuckled as he finished a few last minute adjustments.
Vital raised an eyebrow. “You have copies of their music?”
“What? You think I went home with a nigh infinite amount of money and storage space, and I didn’t pick up everything I could get my hands on?” Grif asked
“Well, we did have some nice money, and Rush is a good band. A little hard for me, but a good band,” Pensword pointed out.
“Okay, fair point. Speaking of home, though, I wonder if the governments decided to invest money into interdimensional travel, just because of their encounter with us,” Vital said.
“Well, if they did, they’d be generations away from it, and it would be highly improbable that they would connect to our world on their first try. Maybe a furry world, but more than likely a turn left world that is almost the exact same as their world.”
Vital shrugged. “Probably. But then again, that’s getting a little too deep.” He turned back to Grif. “So, are you ready?”
“As I’ll ever be. Let’s get this circus moving. Clowns first,” Grif gestured to Vital.
“And here I forgot my makeup. What a shame,” Vital shot back as he made his way to the door, and held it open for his friends.
Grif cracked his neck. “Out of the frying pan, I guess,” he mumbled as he exited the room.
“And down into a burning ring of fire?” Vital quipped.
Pensword facehoofed. “Now I have Johnny Cash stuck in my head.”
Trumpets echoed through the large stone hall. The overall structure and design reminded Pensword of Westminster Abbey. The tall ceiling seemed to be made up of numerous arches with massive stone columns standing in two parallel straight lines. Armed guards lined the sides of the area, each armed with large steel halberds. Gryphon nobility arrayed in fancy armor and intricate clothing covered most of the front area. In front of them were the clan lords. And in front of the clan lords hung five banners bearing the five regions of the Gryphon Empire. Beneath them stood the two surviving kings who had remained loyal to Daedalus, as well as Gareth Farflyer, Jorrund Bloodfeather, and Brunhilda Warbeak. Vital Spark, Hammer Strike, Rarity, Trixie, Lunar Fang, Fox Feather, and Bellacosa were shown to a spot near the nobility. Shrial, Avalon, Kalima, Thalia, and the cubs were escorted to a space by the Emperor's own clan, beside Genevieve. Gilda was placed with the other family guards nearby.
Grif was led alone to the front to stand beside Jirrac, who stood at the altar in his robes, the Book of Winds laying on the pulpit before him. When Grif took his place, he could see the reactions from the crowd: glares, smiles, looks of fear and consideration. He could feel eye’s sizing him up, looking for weaknesses, or trying to take in every inch of him for memory. As he turned to the crowd, he could see the colored lights appear on the ground as the covers over the stained glass windows that depicted the four winds and their children were removed.
“Jirrac,” Grif said calmly, “I hope this isn’t as aggravating for you.”
“Of course not,” Jirrac said shakily. “I’m only a no account monk who was put in this position at the suggestion of the Avatar of Winds, who now has every single eye in the room on him. What's there to aggravate?” he chuckled nervously.
“Yeah. I know the feeling,” Grif sighed. Nearby, a dozen or so monks formed of different songbirds flew into the hall, and formed up on nearby benches. They began to sing in unison, while an unseen band began to play. Daedalus appeared at the end of the hall in his own ceremonial armor. It was all Grif could do not to laugh at seeing the gold trim engraved armor polished so dedicatedly it could probably blind you. Daedalus looked entirely unprepared as he attempted to keep a dignified show of walking down the aisle at pace. He was followed by his three chosen shield Gryphons, and then six or so heavily armed color guardsmen. When the group finally reached the front, the guard fanned out, forming a bowl-like formation around the altar.
Daedalus looked to the altar, and nodded his head to Jirrac, before turning to Grif. There was an awkward moment where Grif Realized neither he nor Daedalus knew the proper etiquette. Was he supposed to lower his beak? Was Daedalus supposed to lower his? Thinking quickly, the black Gryphon improvised as he stepped towards the emperor, placing a talon on the younger Gryphon’s head, and lowering both their beaks till their foreheads touched. This was an action as old as the Empire itself, and served as a sign of mutual respect for the other's station. Grif silently prayed that he wouldn’t start a war over this. The sight of the approving glances of the monks helped to lower his fears. Upon Grif’s return to his place, the music changed to something almost resembling the Equestrian bridal march as new figures appeared at the entrance to the room.
First through the doors were the personal maids of honor for the Gryphoness, who would be waiting on her every need as they would come with the bride. Even if they were on loan from Daedalus, Melody still came through with her escort forming behind her, and acted with poise befitting the event. However, it was not the bride the audience was watching as gasps filled the room. Instead, all eyes fell on the symbol the guards wore, a hastily crafted vestige of a familiar cutie mark shone on all the guards’ badges to denote the “clan” they “came from.” Then the eyes fell on the Pony that dared to lead Melody to the altar in the place reserved for the father. Pensword kept his eyes forward as he tried his hardest to keep a panic attack from becoming visible. One final guard held the flag of Pensword’s clan high in the air for all to see, so they could know from which clan this Gryphoness hailed.
The reaction was quite mixed at this sight. Some glared daggers at the bridal party, and some seemed not to care at all about the Pony in it, or seemed to simply be trying to ignore the fact he wasa Pony. But there were also those who smiled at the sight, some who pointed and whispered in hushed tones about the signs of the changing times. A few said silent prayers in thanks to the South Wind, and to Grif himself, that they lived to see such a thing. Perhaps this Avatar would bring about great change after all.
When Melody finally arrived at the front, Jirrac reached beneath the altar, and produced a bundle wrapped in leather. He placed it beside the Book of Winds, and unwrapped it to reveal a long, thin dagger. Despite being well cared for, it still bore the telltale marks of time. The symbol for Daedalus’s family had been carved near the hilt. Beside it lay a large ruby with familiar holes drilled on either side. Lastly, a small bowl made of a familiar blood-colored stone laid in wait. Jirrac turned to the Book of Winds, and opened it carefully. The music ended the moment the book hit the stone.
“My friends, my people, warriors, scholars, monks, and merchants alike. Today is a glorious day! Here, on the ninth year of the reign of our beloved Emperor, we come to watch as he commits himself to the great destiny that the South Wind wants for every Gryphon: love. It is on this day that His Holiness, Emperor Daedalus the Survivor marries Lady Melody Pen, a prophetess within our own time!” He was greeted by loud clapping from most of the nobles and clan leaders. “Truly, we live in times unlike any ever recorded, nor that I think shall ever be recorded. We have been blessed with an emperor who is wise and gracious, and a prophetess whose gift shall surely help him to rule in prosperity and victory. And so we meet here today, facing the South as the wind blows strong outside to celebrate this union. It is to my duty as the Winds Father, head of our order, and the one offering guidance from our beloved deities, may they one day be returned to us–.” Each and every Gryphon in the room, Grif included, proceeded to thump their left hand on their right thigh, and lower their beaks to stare at the floor. No one spoke for a long minute. “–That I read the words of the prophet Berenziath, who wrote these words in the year three hundred and thirty five of the first reclamation by the Winds.”
Looking into the book, he read, “Blood and stone. For the blood is the life, and the water of life to all things living. And the stone is the foundation of the earth, the bones from which we build. When mates sealed in love do wed, let blood and stone be wed as a symbol of it. For he who would not shed his blood for whom he does love should not know love.” Jirrac cleared his throat. “Further, let the bloodline that would put his head above all others test the new blood, the stone blood, with his blood and his mate’s blood. Let it be first tested within the bloodstone.” Jirrac’s talons shook as he finished, and reached towards the knife. “Daedalus, Emperor of Gryphonia, you claim this Gryphoness to hold a place in your heart. Would you spill a drop of your own blood, to be tested and tried, and show that you and she would be worthy?”
Daedalus lifted his talon hesitantly to the shaking talons of the Winds Father. “I would prove as a testament to all that she would make me worthy,” he said.
Grif watched Jirrac’s continually shaking hand preparing to cut his emperor with the knife. At this rate, Jirrac was likely to bleed Daedalus out by accident. “Perhaps, Winds Father, it would be more appropriate for me to test the blood,” Grif offered gently as he ushered Jirrac aside, and got the knife from his hands. With expert precision that came from years of practice, Grif took a single talon of daedalus’s, and pricked it, turning it to let the blood drop into the bowl. He released Daedalus, who was given a cloth by one of his shield Gryphons to cover the wound. Then Grif turned to melody.
“And you, my lady? A drop of blood to prove your worth?” he asked.
“A drop, for now, I shall give. Though the events of this offering shall be but a shade compared to the brighter future that awaits us. What I lose now shall be returned ten fold, if not more,” she said as she offered her talon.
Grif took her finger, and pricked it as he had Daedalus’, letting her blood drip into the bowl, before releasing her. He swirled the bowl a few times. After a few seconds, the bowl burst with a bright golden light that illuminated the faces of the four closest Gryphons, before dying away. Grif nodded, and handed the bowl to Jirrac, who looked a good deal calmer now that the moment for shedding blood had passed. The Winds Father gave Grif a grateful bob of the head, before turning to face the crowd.
“And so it is that the Winds, even in their exile, still show us their favor. Another imperial bloodline has been affirmed.” As he spoke, he poured the contents of the bowl carefully into the holes in the gem. This revealed that each hole was, in fact, a part of a different tract. As the blood filled the channels, the symbol of Daedalus’ clan became plain. “Let the stone show from this day forth that those who stand before me on this day are His and Her Imperial Majesties. I give you Emperor and Empress Daedalus. So let their blood stone sit amongst the royal jewels forever.” And with that, the room erupted in applause as the two Gryphons before him kissed. Jirrac looked to Pensword. “And so it is at the end of this ceremony that I ask you, do you give up responsibility for Lady Melody to Daedalus, trusting in him to care well for her?”
Pensword nodded his head. “I do. I hereby also give up my right and command of those who have guarded my daughter while under my Clan’s name to show support, and as part of her dowery. May your clan grow stronger with the talons and blades of my warriors,” he said as he bowed his head respectfully to the new emperor.
“And so I, as the Winds Father, do recognize this pairing in the name of the Winds, and do bless it. May your future be prosperous. Go with love, my friends,” Jirrac offered.
Grif left the altar after the couple as they moved down the aisle to the exit. No one else moved, until the three of them had left, and the door closed behind them. When the trio had finally gotten to a secluded corridor, Grif embraced the new couple in his wings.
“I’m new at this, so let's see how this goes,” Grif told them through his chuckles. He looked at Daedalus. “You have many years. Be wise and be healthy. Never be afraid of war, but never take peace off the table. May the Winds always give you the pleasant thermals to ride. And when the time comes, may you be a good father. Remember, it takes nothing to be cruel. It takes everything to be kind. Don’t take the path of least resistance.”
Grif turned his head to Melody. “Be a good Empress. Keep him in line, and remind him that there is still much to improve out there. Trust your visions, but always remember the future is fluid, and it’s what we make of it that matters. May you always have the wisdom to hold your tongue when necessary, and the courage to speak up when right. May you always find favor in his eyes, and remain his favorite one, no matter who comes along. May your seasons together be long, and your seasons apart be few. May you enjoy the warm springs and hot summers of your lives in happiness and joy, and may the winters keep you basking in each other’s warmth. Be a good mother, and don’t be pressured by the stuffed shirts. None of this “only a single heir” business. If you want kids, you have ‘em, you hear me?” Grif chuckled as he hugged them close. “May we change the world together. This is my blessing for you two. Take of it what you will.”
Melody looked at Daedalus with an impish grin. “Oh, cubs are definitelyin the cards.”
“I … need an adult?” Daedalus chuckled nervously.
“Go on, you two. Go get ready for tonight. I need to get out of this pile of scrap metal.” Grif chuckled as he slipped away, and turned towards the main hall.
“Apologies, my dears.” Grif smiled as he approached his family, Gryphons around and above them making there exits as quickly as possible. “Last minute business I needed to take care of.” He turned to the grey-and-blue figure nearby. “And Genevieve, it’s a pity I wasn’t able to see you until now. How goes the training? I keep telling Rainbow Dash she’ll have a challenge this year.”
“With what I’ve seen, it’ll be a challenge worthy of stories to tell our cubs,” she said with a smile. “Imagine Celestia letting one of her key element holders compete in a competition that could either ground or lay her up for months. If she’s really willing to take that much of a risk, then the stories I’ve heard about the mare must be true.” She grinned widely as she sat down, her tail swishing in anticipation.
“Oh, she has her merits. I do hope Gryphonia has a strong fencer this year, though. I do plan to enjoy thrashing him or her quite soundly.” Grif chuckled as he hugged her.
“Careful with those words, big shot, or they might just find an honorable way of bowing out,” Genevieve countered with a playful click of her beak. “You might want to create a stage name, just to keep it interesting.”
“I’ll definitely consider it,” Grif chuckled. “I came all this way, and these scant few hours will be all the time we have together. Tomorrow, I head back to the fort, and you head back to training.” He kissed the top of her head, before stepping back.
“Which means we’d better make the most of it,” Shrial added.
“And we should probably start by introducing her to the children. Don’t you think, Grif?” Avalon asked.
“That's not a bad idea.” Grif smiled at the thought. “Now tell me where those two little–.” He felt a tugging at his crest. “Now how did they get up there?” He chuckled as he smiled. “Genevieve, these are Athena and Gentle Wing, my daughters.”
Genevieve stepped forward, and cooed as she extended a talon to rub under their beaks. “Well, hello there.” Genevieve chuckled as the two nuzzled her fingers. “I’m going to be your next mommy.”
“And,” Grif smiled as he retrieved a bundle from Avalon, “this is my son, Tazeer.” He moved the surface of the blanket to reveal the sleeping cub. A few gentle hoots mixed with a feline purr indicated the nature of his dreams as his head twisted back and forth to nuzzle further into the blanket.
“Oh, my. Someone must be enjoying himself,” Genevieve said as she smiled down on the speckled face of the cub. “And what a unique name for the first male. You never were one to keep to tradition, were you, Grif?” she asked teasingly.
“It was his momma’s choice,” Grif chuckled. “And if I had kept to tradition, I’d probably be dead.”
“And I’d be one very disappointed wife,” Avalon said with a chuckle. “After seeing how soundly you beat the competition, I can see why Grif was so drawn to you. You’re a fighter, like Shrial over there.”
“We’re going to have to have a race some time, just to see who’s faster,” Shrial added with a wink. “I haven’t had that kind of a competition in ages.”
“It is going to be fun,” Genevieve said with an impish grin. “We can race after Grif and I are married.”
“That's the part I’m looking forward to,” Grif said with a playful growl.
“Just don’t break the time barrier, darling. You know how upset that makes Dinky,” Avalon added absently with a wink.
“Anyway, we need to go get changed. I need to get out of this mountain of steel. Will you accompany us to the room, my lady?” Grif asked as he turned to Genevieve.
“Only if I can help with you divest yourself from that armor,” she purred.
“That's an invitation I’m not going to refuse,” Grif chuckled as they headed for the door with wives and cubs in tow.
Night Terror stood at the front gates of the Thestral longhouse. Her batwings fluttered anxiously as she waited. She’d been told that she would be joining another sister, and they would both be taught together to gain knowledge and a certain amount of training. She didn’t know who this Thestral was going to be, but it was likely to be another young foal half her age who still knew more about the culture than she did.
“Um … hello. Are … are you Night Terror?” a timid, wispy feminine voice asked.
Night Terror turned her head in surprise, shocked that a Thestral was able to sneak up behind her, only to stare. “W-wait a minute. You’re Fluttershy, aren’t you? I thought you were supposed to be a Pegasus. Did something happen? Why do you have the wings like mine?”
“I … sort of went through a change. It was an accident, but it turns out it was a happy one.” She smiled, and despite her fangs, somehow managed to still look cute.
“But ... but,” Night Terror stammered. “You’re a Pegasus!”
“Actually, it turns out my family tree is one of the older Thestral lines. It’s just a few generations back, they were cursed to be Pegasi. That’s why my flying wasn’t very good growing up, except for when I let myself get angry. Now that I’m in the right shape, things are … well, better.”
“Better?” Night Terror asked. “How does that even make sense?”
“Well, I’m more confident in myself than I was before, for one. And I don’t have to feel so bad about being assertive. When I tried doing it before, it sort of got out of hand. It turns out it was because of the Thestral in me trying to get out. The spell was like one of Mister Beaver’s dams. It held everything back in a tight space. When I tried to release some of the pressure, it came out too forcefully, and I turned into a big meanie. Now that the dam’s clear, the stream can flow naturally again, and I can be the me I was always supposed to be, the Element of Kindness and a confident mare.”
“I am ... glad to hear that, Dame Fluttershy.” Princess Luna’s voice carried out from the open doors to the longhouse. “I hope you will show that kindness to young Night Terror Blueblood as well. Come, the both of you. Tonight, we will be speaking of the founding of our lands, and certain myths from our culture. Follow me below, and we can begin our lesson.”
Night Terror’s eyes widened as she looked at Princess Luna. “Y–you’re our teacher? But why would you deem us–?”
“Because I am the High Chieftess, and I feel it is my duty to help the both of you, as well as my honor.” She bowed her head slightly to Fluttershy, who blushed, and hid behind her long mane. “Come, my little foals of the night. Come, and learn under my moon-washed wings.” Her voice carried melodically through the crisp night air as she turned, and spread her wings wide over the entrance, then waited for the two thestrals to step underneath. Fluttershy did so happily, then looked back, and beckoned cheerfully with a hoof. Night Terror followed rather nervously, and kept close to the element bearer’s side. Far better to be under her protection than to risk crossing swords with an ancient and far wiser ruler. She may have been new to the era, but research had shown Princess Luna was no slouch at adapting to her surroundings. Night Terror would have to be careful to avoid exposing her role as a spy. Luna simply smiled kindly at her as she led the pair inside, and closed the doors behind them. Yet, as the last rays of the light touched those shining orbs, Night Terror thought she caught just a hint of pity.
“So, do you eat meat?” Night Terror asked as the light from Luna’s horn guided their steps, before sliding a complicated stone trap door out of the way by spinning a series of wooden tumblers to line up properly. The original image of a Thestral with her wings covering her eyes changed to spread out welcomingly as it smiled with wide eyes, each pulsing with a tiny moonstone at its pupil. As the new dim light shone, Night Terror noted, with some surprise, how her coat had started to take a shine to it, and the dark was easier to see through than it had before. Had all of this really been denied her, just because she hadn’t been allowed to try meat before? That … didn’t mean she liked it, of course. It was revolting, but … at the same time, she couldn’t deny the results.
Fluttershy shook her head. “No. My family is part of a rarer strain.” She giggled as she pulled out a large apple from her satchel, and bit into it, sucking its juices dry. “My family line is based off of vampire fruit bats.”
“But, they’re a delicacy for the rest of us, aren’t they?” Night Terror asked, confused.
“Because,” Luna smiled as the doors opened to show a set of carefully carved spiralling stairs, “we first started eating them to prevent competition between the two juice drinkers. And Fluttershy, you can eat the apple as well. While it is good to drink it dry, as a Pony, you still need the fiber.” She started down the stairs. “Night Terror, while tonight will be taught about the Fruit drinkers we call our cousins, you will also hear about the founding of House Blueblood, and when that event took place. Truth be told, your house was among the most staunch supporters for Thestral rights and integration.” She vanished around a corner, prompting the two to step forward, and follow her voice.
“In fact, they were the ones that took up arms to protect my children, after my … incident. They bought up strips of lands to act as a buffer, and garrisoned them with guards and other troops to prevent angry Ponies from taking revenge on an innocent people for my … for Nightmare Moon’s actions. They cared about honor and justice in the eyes of the law above all else. It was a trait we admired greatly in your ancestor.” Luna sighed, and shook her head. “Which is why I weep over the status of your house today. Though it warms my heart to have learned that you are to inherit the Night Woods, for those woods are they that Blueblood used to guard my Thestrals long ago. It will bring us great pleasure to know that a Thestral controls those lands again.” She stopped at a door, and turned to address the pair.
“Come now, Fluttershy, Night Terror. For tonight, this place will be your hall of history. Come in, and learn the truths and mysteries of your past, that you may find yourselves a better future.” Luna smiled as she pulled open the heavy stone door with her magic to reveal a room carved from black obsidian and covered from floor to ceiling in gems of all shapes and sizes to replicate the stars and planets at night. A massive moon stone had been affixed to the ceiling, bathing the rest of the room in its gentle light, and causing the other gems to shine. She chuckled as she looked on the two mares’ awestruck faces. “This is but a small piece of the skills your families will teach you in the coming days. While Thestrals are well known as warriors, we are also fine craftsponies. Now then, about that history lesson.”
A couple hours later, after having met up with Pensword, Vital, Hammer Strike, and their assorted entourage, the group found their way into the banquet hall. Grif was relieved when they were shown to an off-to-the-side table near the front of the room.
“Finally, a place out of the limelight,” Grif said as he took the seat he was shown. “I feel like people have been staring at me for the last month, and we haven’t even been here a week.”
“You area national icon,” Vital pointed out. “It’s only natural to feel that way.”
“I also think Pensword’s going to go nuts, if he has to be this close to hundreds of Gryphons in a single room for much longer.”
“Even with his family here, who happen to also be made up of several Gryphons?” Vital countered.
“You’re clutching that butter knife pretty tightly,” Grif commented idly to Pensword.
“Vital,” Pensword began, “until you’ve bathed in the blood of your enemies, seen your home torn down and burned to ruins, watched the aftermath of your own people devoured and eaten, whose bones were strewn like discarded garbage, I highly suggest you don’t even come close to attempting to ask me to calm down. I am surrounded. This could very well have been the hall I would have been brought to, if I was captured.” Pensword paused to take a shaking breath. “Just ... Grif is closest to knowing what I’m feeling right now.”
“For the record, I wasn’t asking you to calm down. And secondly, Grif, you clearly win this debate. I concede.” Vital bowed his head, and sighed. “Sorry, Pensword. I didn’t mean to push those buttons.”
“It is okay. I am most likely tense and blunt from being on edge. Just … I will be feeling a lot better when things wrap up,” he whispered as he watched the servers bringing their food on platters.
“How are you doing with all this?” Grif asked Hammer Strike as the first platter was dropped expertly before the lord.
Hammer Strike shrugged. “As tense as things can be, I’ve dealt with worse.”
“Guess it helps that most of the people in this room are terrified of you, huh?” Grif asked.
“Their fear does calm me somewhat, yes.” Hammer Strike gave a faint grin.
“Plus, I guess you’ve determined just how long it would take to massacre the room with the silverware?” Grif chuckled as the serving Gryphon stiffened a bit, but managed to keep composure.
“As though I actually need a weapon.”
“Darlings, I think we’re causing a bit of a scene. Perhaps we should try toning down on the talk of killing for a while?” Rarity suggested.
“If we have to,” Grif sighed. “So, Rarity, is Ponyville fielding any other teams, rather than just the team emblem flight race?”
“Oh, I’ve been asking around,” Rarity said with a smile. “I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised by the team I’ve put together for the fencing competition.”
“Oh, I dunno. Pokey’s good as far as Ponyville goes, but to my knowledge, he’s never gotten very far in tournaments,” Grif shrugged.
“I did say team, Grif,” Rarity said pointedly as the server slid her platter into place, and she smiled back at her. “Ah, thank you, darling. I appreciate the hard work. Please, send my compliments back to the chef. It smells positively heavenly.”
“I hope they remembered most Ponies are vegetarian,” Grif noted. “Or at least you and Trixie are.”
“Fairly certain they did, Grif,” Rarity said as the steam cleared to reveal a hearty vegetable stew filled with beans, squash, spinach, onion, potatos, peppers, and a blend of herbs and spices. “Mmm. Positively delectable.”
Grif chuckled as he took a bite of his own venison. “Glad they were able to accommodate you.”
“My guess is they don’t want to risk causing offense,” Vital pointed out as he looked to his own stew. “Mom used to make stuff like this in the winters back home. If this is even half as good, I know I’ll love it. And if it’s more … well, I guess I’ll just have to send you all a postcard from heaven.”
Pensword gave a look to Vital before tucking into his own meat pie dish. He didn’t trust himself to speak. Lunar Fang and Moon River both rubbed his back to try to keep him calm.
“Well, enjoy it. We’ll probably be heading out first thing in the morning,” Grif told Vital.
“That mean we’re sleeping on the ship tonight?”
“Likely, yes,” Grif nodded. “Make sure you have your things packed.”
Pensword snorted. “Been packed all trip. Living out of my pack has been good for me,” he groused. He paused as his ears twitched. One of the rental guards from the ceremony approached, now bearing Daedalus’ crest on his uniform.
“I bear word from the Empress. She asks for your audience this night, that on the morrow, you may leave with knowledge fitting her father and friends, knowledge to aid in times of need for the near future, and the far.”
“When does she want to see us?” Grif asked.
“When the meal ends.”
“Did she specify exactly who she wanted?” Vital asked.
“The names on this scroll.” The Gryphon laid the scroll on the table, then rolled it out for them to read.
“Okay … wasn’t expecting that. I guess the packing’s going to have to wait, then,” Vital said.
Pensword snorted, and shook his head. “This is why I live out of my pack. You never know when last minute events happen.”
“It sounds like this one may take some time for you, gentlecolts,” Rarity mused. “We’ll see about helping with the packing, just in case. Besides, it’ll give me a chance to try that new packing spell Twilight wrote out for me. Apparently, it’s something Star Swirl designed back in his earlier years of wizardry. They seem to be a bunch of nonsense words, but Twilight swears by them.”
“If it’s the spell I think it might be, I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised,” Vital said with a mischievous smile.
“Well, if you say so, Darling. I suppose we should all just dig in, so you can get going. It’s not polite to leave royalty waiting, after all.”
Hammer Strike and the gang were sitting in a very opulent room. Gilda stood guard stoically by the door, her hand resting idly on the sword at her belt. The private chambers were much like Luna’s when entertaining audiences at the night court back at Canterlot, though without all the drapes and pillows. Like the rest of the fortress, the room had been carved out of cold stone. Its walls rounded to make a large cylindrical structure. Tapestries and an ornate wooden table with a series of chairs and cushions surrounding it waited for potential guests and audiences. The rest of the walls had been decorated in gold leaf with paintings of past Emperors, both from Daedalus' family and the lines of the past. Grif walked up to the painting of Empress Warbeak, while Vital Spark, Pensword, Day Moon, and Hammer Strike examined other portions of the room.
Warbeak stood tall and intimidating, a rather impressive feat for the laughing falcon/persian cat mix. She held a large double sided long bearded battle axe at her side, and wore engraved plate mail armor. The portrait seemed to almost note her diminutive size on purpose, likely because the empress had been proud enough not to hide her shorter stature. Like Queen Elizabeth The First, many a male Gryphon had found this Gryphoness’ temper lethal during her time on the throne.
“Now shewas a true warrior for change,” Grif laughed.
“Is that so?” Vital asked as he circled round to join his friend. “Mind if I ask what she did? Clover doesn’t plan on putting me through cultural studies till after I’ve at least become fluent in the branches of magic she’s set out for me.”
“Do you know how many Gryphonesses fought during the Third Gryphon War?” Grif asked.
Vital shook his head. “I remember you and Shrial mentioning females weren’t well treated back then, though, so I’m guessing not many?”
“One.” Grif wrapped a wing around Shrial. “And she was only there because she and her father where the last of their clan, and he didn’t want to trust her well-being to servants. At that point in time, Gryphonesses were meant to either give birth, cook and clean, or look pretty, depending on their age and current station in life. They were taught the bow, but other than that, they weren’t permitted to learn to fight or carry weapons. They weren’t allowed to rule, and all property they owned was at the discretion of their husband or father. That is, until Warbeak’s father, King Reginald Warbeak, successfully carried out a coup d'etat, and took the crown for himself, and then was promptly killed in battle two-and-a-half months later.
“Warbeak masterfully planned the assassinations of all her father’s male heirs who would be of age, until she was crowned Regent Empress of Gryphonia, a title that would last either until she married or her younger brother came of age. It turns out, you see, that her father had been using her as a sparring partner in secret for a good portion of her life before he died. He was of a smaller stature, like her, and so skilled in battle that taller Gryphons couldn’t beat him, or so it’s said.
“It only took her a year to convince her brother to abdicate the throne, not out of fear of her, but of generally not wanting to be involved in the affairs of state. From there, she proceeded to destroy every male who would oppose her, sometimes through intrigue, sometimes through open combat, where she donned armor made by Wilthbert Hardbeak, one of the greatest armor smiths of the time, and a little known supporter of the rights of Gryphonesses. She was a terror in any battle when she wielded her father’s axe.
“Within five years, she had been declared the full empress, without complaint. Within ten years, she’d rearranged our social structure, giving females more rights. And within twenty years, she had introduced Gryphonesses into the military. She accepted no opponents. She killed all challengers. And no Gryphon intelligent enough to live ever spoke down to her in any fashion. She had three husbands, and birthed somewhere along the lines of fifteen heirs.
“Unfortunately, her imperial line ended with her grandson. He was younger than Daedalus, when he took the throne, and never saw the coup coming. Still, as you may have noticed with Brunhilda, her bloodline survives to this day.”
“I never would’ve guessed. She must be very humble about her lineage,” Vital commented as he gazed into the painting’s eyes. Then he chuckled. “I bet she would’ve fancied you, Grif.”
“I can’t know. She lived and died in the time between now and the Third Gryphon War. But I don’t think it matters. I did all right in the end,” he said with a smile. “And I’ll be telling them just that when I see them tonight.”
A side door opened, and Cosy walked out of the room with wide eyes as he made his way to one of the chairs. Pensword immediately walked over to check on him with Day Moon in tow.
The guard who had escorted Cosy out looked impartially over the group. “Day Moon, the Empress will see you now.” The white Thestral looked nervously to his adopted father. An encouraging nod and a gentle smile of assurance nudged the foal in the right direction, and he began his slow approach to the guard and the room beyond. His simple tunic helped to stave off the chill of the stone as he passed through the doorway and its twin green dragon carvings on either post.
He was led down a hallway that shone with glowing stones and tiles polished to the point where Day Moon could see his reflection. At last, they came to another door. The guard pulled it open, then motioned for the foal to enter, before closing the door behind the foal. Day Moon was on his own now.
The Thestral turned to take in his new surroundings. The room was surprisingly different compared to the rest of the palace. Greenery and foliage lined the walls. It didn’t take him long to deduce they were an artificial reproduction, but the effect was stunning. It like it was like stepping into a forest glenn.
A rough stone table stood in the middle with six empty seats. A series of runic symbols had been carved onto its surface. The newly dubbed Empress Melody sat at its head wearing only a lightweight hooded cap. Three plates and two cups sat in front of her. The remains of the separate meals: a ham hock bone and a few stray pieces of salad and an old apple core. Her beak rested on her chest, as if she were dozing. Day Moon sat down in the seat directly to her left, and waited for her to wake up.
Five minutes later, she opened her eyes, and looked around, before focusing on the foal. “For one as young as you are, you have the consideration of those twice your age. Letting one rest is a great sign of respect.” She smiled as she shifted her plate off to the side. “Now that I have regained my strength, I shall get to why I summoned you here tonight, for I have words for your ears alone.”
“May I ask a question?” Day Moon asked.
“The plate and cups were just a light meal for me.” Her smile turned impish. “I always wanted to dine with one of the Crystal Empire’s royalty, especially after hearing what Cosy had done for my husband.” She looked into Day Moon’s eyes as she placed something down before him, which was odd, because he was sure her talons had been empty before. A rough wooden carving of a wolf stood bony white against the table’s dark surface. The wolf’s head was tilted back in a mournful howl. “Does this mean anything to you?”
“It’s a simple carving the elders in the Wolf Clan make,” he responded. “The wood….” He furrowed his brow. “The wood appears to be a natural white. I’m sorry, but I don’t know what tree you carved it from. I’m only just beginning my lessons.” He looked up to her eyes, then back down at the carving. “You’re going to talk about the gift of the white wolf, aren’t you?”
“In my sight, I saw the vision of a young unmaned white wolf in the dark. His brothers had gone off to hunt the monsters that had murdered their mother, but he had stayed behind. He met a raven blessed by the sky. This raven hunted for many nights to find and kill a shadow from times long since past. The wolf sat with the raven, and learned from him of the dark things of the world, of the shadows who creep in the dark, and of the chills that travel on the breeze, the terrors who hunted the young and weak. The cub felt fear, for his father's mate had birthed a cub, one a season prior, and the shadows were looking at the cub. They sought to find the cub, to invade her, and hollow her out to a husk, so that they could hide from the light. The wolf knew the raven could kill shadows and chills, and all sorts of dark and terrifying things, so he begged the raven to teach him. The raven agreed that he would, but on the condition that the wolf must also help the raven hunt his shadow in return.”
The Gryphoness rose to her full height, her wings flared as she gazed somberly down at him. “Hear me now, Day Moon. You are the white wolf who wishes to hunt the shadows and the chills and the dark things of the world, for the raven cannot kill his shadow alone. He must provide the experience and the sight, but you must provide the fangs and the claws. Do not be deterred by what is hard or terrifying, for your sister’s fate will depend on you learning the skills ahead.”
Day Moon shivered, and then his eyes narrowed in determination. For a moment, even Melody swore the eyes of a wolf gazed back at her. “I will let nothing harm my sister.” Then he bore his fangs. “I’ll start when we get back to the den.”
“Be strong, young wolf. Be kind when you can spare it, but be ruthless when you must. The wisdom I have given you is yours now. Do with it what you must.”
“I will.” He nodded gently. “I won’t waste your time further, Your Majesty,” Day Moon said softly as he rose from his seat.
“Hunt well, Day Moon, for we shall not meet again.” Melody placed a talon on his head, before gesturing for him to leave.
Day Moon frowned. “But we would meet each other as spirits. After all, you claimed my father, so you have to visit us once in awhile.”
Melody couldn’t suppress the chuckle as she smiled indulgently. “We shall see. Even I do not know everything that is to come. Now run along, little one. Inigo is about to do something reckless.”
Day Moon’s eyes widened, before he flew out the room as fast as his wings would carry him. “Inigo,” he growled under his breath, “I thought we wouldn’t do anything without the other.”
Day Moon burst into the waiting room, then out the door without so much as a hello or goodbye. The guard who had escorted him darted after as fast as his wings would carry him, but to little avail. Pensword couldn’t help but smile at the foal’s speed. He had learned his lessons well. Another guard soon emerged from the corridor to pick up the slack. His feathers shook as he gasped out the next words. “H–Hammer Strike.” He looked like he was about to faint.
“Delightful,” Hammer Strike commented as he moved forward.
They soon arrived at the table set in the fake forest in the room. However, as Hammer Strike walked forward, it almost seemed like he had entered an actual forest. The walls were hidden in shadows, and moonlight seemed to pour from the ceiling, or where the ceiling should have been. Melody was pallid, and deeply bothered, with both her taloned hands resting on the table. Her eyes were bright, and bored into the features of Hammer Strike, giving him the option of six seats to sit down at.
Hammer Strike sat right across from Melody as he directed his attention forward.
“Your vision,” Melody shivered as she reached below the table, and lifted a large copper bowl covered in gryphic runes onto the table. A thick grayish liquid sat placidly inside. It reminded Hammer Strike of mercury, but not quite. Something seemed off about it. It was too calm. “Is one I won’t soon forget. It is hard to describe the things I saw or the words that were spoken to me. I feel it would be best to show you upon this scrying bowl. Steel yourself, and prepare. This may not be easy to take.”
“I’ve seen the time and date of my own death. If you have something worse to say….” Hammer Strike sighed.
Melody pricked a finger, and allowed a single drop of blood to contact the liquid. No sign of the drop remained as the liquid parted to swallow it, then closed around it. Its color remained the same. A cold wind blew through the room. The lamps went out, cloaking the space in darkness as the grey liquid suddenly turned to black. And then the darkness began to take shape and form. Colors and shapes made themselves known. Soon a Pony took form in the center of the vision. At first sight, Hammer Strike didn’t know who he was, but when he saw the pony’s half ear twitch idly, he realized he was looking at himself. The Pony in this vision didn’t have his blue-and-gold coat, nor did he have weapons or armor. What he did possess was a multitude of scars crisscrossing his side where the fur was thin. His right eye glowed a bright, almost blinding blue. His body was atrophied and gaunt. His mane was haggard, and strange lumps covered odd areas of his skin. He resembled something vaguely related to Frankenstein’s monster. Worse yet were the twitches. His eyes constantly scanned the area before him, his ears flicking every which way. The figure seemed to shiver where it stood.
His mouth was mumbling something almost too silent to hear as it moved swiftly. “I know you're there.” Hammer Strike realised suddenly that he could make it out. “I know you're watching me. I can feel you. They did this. They opened us up. They madeus this. They killed him. THEY KILLED HIM!” the pony roared at the watching figures of Melody and Hammer Strike. Then the other Hammer Strike’s mouth pulled up into a haunting smile. “But don’t worry. We’ll get the last laugh.” He inhaled deeply, then burst into a cackle. “We know how we die, and it isn’t here. Don’t worry. They will pay.” And with that, the vision evaporated in a puff of steam.
Hammer Strike sat silent for a moment, before looking up at Melody. “Well. That was horrifying.”
“Some things are worse than death, Hammer Strike,” Melody told him.
“I know.” Hammer Strike hummed as he stared off into space. “Can’t wait to find out what happens,” he finished sarcastically.
“I do not envy you that destiny, but I will not insult you with pity.”
He gave a small smile, and a gentle nod. “I will survive. As much as I dread what is to come, I will survive.”
Grif lowered his beak as he approached Melody, taking the seat before her without being bid. “Tell me then, prophetess. How will I kill the shade?” he asked her.
“Ah, coming with an actual question. Rare are those who are willing to ask, or perhaps demand?” she said as a tired smile pulled at her beak. “Unfortunately, Avatar, the answer I give is what is needed to be said, not what is asked.”
“We both know your vision and my power come from the same source,” Grif pointed out. “With no disrespect, my question will be answered.”
She laughed as she settled back into her chair. “Very well.” She closed her eyes,and took a breath, before opening them and looking over his head. “Know that your shade is hiding, and will not be found. Know that he knows when you speak his name, and follows you with his eye from afar. He relies upon another to serve him as he seeks to regain his strength. It falls upon you and those with whom you are closest to destroy him. However, there is a fear he bears within, one that is justified for all those of his kind. The raven will always peck and push back, but it is by the wolf’s jaws and silver fangs that the shadows will ultimately be vanquished. Take the wolf under your black wings, and keep him safe. He and his sister both. Fail in this, and the wolf will tear your wings.
“Know that you must travel by the mists and the night airs. Teach what you know, allyou know, to the wolf, and the two of you will end the shade who despises the sun and moon. He covets the hearts of crystal. Know that this shade will bring others to him, who will flock to his banner, and join his cause. A horde unseen since the days of Luna’s ancient hunts will gather. Towns will fall, but the one that has fallen already shall remain a safe haven. Know that those who call the moon mother, their caves, and your old fortress shall give you protection, and the light of the moon shall be a shield against his eyes. Until the day shall come that the Winds return in their former glory, they cannot help you, save in supporting your magic as they have in the past. To strain them more would be too much. Gather those you call brother, the one for whom you have shed blood in his name. He and his will repay their debt to you with their webs and their warriors.”
“One thing more,” Grif insisted. “Where is the khopesh the warrior Thoth wielded to avenge our great benefactors who vanished so long ago?”
Melody stared Grif squarely in the eyes. “Take no thought for the weapon. It is not your path to find it, but that of another. While the Winds praise your actions, our anger at the Diamond Dogs prevent us from seeing the road clearly.” She shook her head. “It will be found in the quest for another item of great worth. It is a path another must tread in your stead.”
“Thank you, my lady. I will do my best with the knowledge you have bestowed upon me.” Grif rose, and touched his beak with respect, before turning to leave.
Pensword sat across from Melody, squirming uncomfortably in his chair as his armor rubbed against the cushions. His helmet sat on the table, waiting to be reclaimed. He wasn’t sure what unnerved him more: the fact the guard had insisted he wear it, or the fact the armor fit him perfectly. It was functional, but much more gaudy than he was used to. “This is your doing, is it not, my daughter?” he asked with a deadpan expression.
“I have three visions to give to you, each with their own wisdom. Choose,” Melody told him as she dropped an emerald, a ruby, and a onyx on the table before him.
“Would you write the other two then, and send them for me to read on the trip home?” He asked, confused at the instructions.
“The wisdom I have is for you alone. It must be shared directly with you, or not at all,” she told him. “If there is even a chance that another may see it before you, I must not allow it.”
Pensword relaxed as he began to understand. He looked at the three gems, then reached out and touched the emerald. “This one.”
“And which shall follow?” she asked.
It was a moment before the light clicked, and Pensword’s mouth opened in a silent “oh” as he realized how foolish he had been. Of course she was going to give him all three. This would just determine the order he heard them. “I pick the onyx next, so the ruby shall be last.”
She nodded. “Very well. Hear this first vision, and be warned. A great tool you have been given, a muscle for which so very few have ever developed, but you have let the tool rust, and the muscle atrophy. It was only when you were too weak to stand and too rusty to act that you oiled the hinge, and worked the muscle. But still the tool is too rusted to perform the task that will be asked of it. The muscle still too weak. You must increase the oil and the strain double fold, and double fold again, if possible, for the time cometh on the horizon where you will find yourself weighed and measured, but should you lack, it be not you who may suffer, but one close to your heart.”
Pensword let out a long hiss. He had been reminded once again of his weakness, and now he had been informed that he could lose someone he loved, if he didn’t strain himself to the utmost. His lips set themselves into a thin line as he motioned for her to continue.
“The next is the reason for the warning. I saw a bear with cub, but a monster came to attack the cub. The bear had not been challenged in so long that he had not the strength to save the cub, and the cub was taken. The monster overwhelmed the cub, and put itself inside her. From that point on, the cub became a wild she-bear, and bathed in blood and fire. But I saw also that, should the bear be warned, he might sharpen his claws upon tree and stump, upon rock and log, until they shone with death's own light. And with the rage of bears long past, he would fight the monster back.” A chill wind blew through the room, ruffling both Melody’s and Pensword’s feathers as her voice echoed in the air. “Till raven and wolf on shadow feast, the bear must battle agian and agian, and hold back the beast.” With that said, she picked up the second gem, and returned it to the pocket from whence she had drawn it.
Pensword nodded his understanding. He would have to ask Shawn if he could practice more often. Considering the alternative, he didn’t see much other choice. But that would have to wait. For now, he had to focus on the third and final word, lest he lose to whatever creature threatened his family.
“This last warning is of great importance, Pensword,” Melody said gravely. “You must release your bias towards my race. For in us, you will find yet another face. Greater threats still loom ahead, and Ponies and Gryphons will need to work together, hoof and talon. This is something you must be at the head of. Grif is a Gryphon, and therefore, his word would be taken as tainted one way or the other, and we fear Hammer Strike too greatly. Peace through fear is useless. You must forgive the past, and accept the future. Only then can you move on from the present. I know what the Winds ask is not easy, but things truly worthy never are.”
“So … I’m going to be swept up into the Winds as well?” While he sounded dejected and downcast, it was more military humor than anything else. His pride could afford to take the hit, if it meant a better future. “I will do my best, but I will not be able to change overnight,” he warned.
“That's all the Winds can ask of you. Go in peace, Father. I know I have given you a lot to think about.” Melody bowed her head in respectful dismissal.
“And you stay safe, my daughter. And … perhaps you could come visit some time? To help heal the rift between myself and the Gryphons, and to enjoy some time with the family.” He couldn’t help but chuckle. “Moon River will miss you greatly.”
“I promise to try. But let’s not forget. I amhelping to rule an empire, after all.” She laughed. “If you would tell Vital Spark not to bow, I would appreciate it. That would be tacky.”
“I will,” Pensword promised. “Just … go easy on him, okay?”
“I will.”
When Vital Spark entered the room, he found the place significantly changed from what Pensword had described. The room was now hot and arid. Strange smelling herbs gave the room a uniquely wild aroma, and painted masks lay about in the familiar style of a certain Zebra Vital knew. Melody sat on a cushion on the other end of a table that Vital realized he couldn't quite place as white with black stripes or black with white stripes.
“So, you wanted to talk?” Vital asked as he settled into the cushion opposite the Gryphoness. He rested his forehooves on the table, and did his best to control his heartrate. “I’m … not exactly certain about the protocol here, so if there’s some sort of etiquette or something I’m supposed to follow, I’d appreciate if you’d let me know,” he said in a surprisingly level voice.
“Calm down, and relax,” Melody told him. “You are my guest here, Vital Spark. I am not a soothsayer or a fortune teller. Neither a seer nor oracle am I. My vision was given for you, and so I wish to pass it along in accordance with the will of the Winds. The only ‘protocol’ I have here, as you put it, is that you treat me as you would a friend. Does the setting not make you comfortable?”
“A little hot, if you want me to be honest. Though I’m curious how you managed this. Is it some form of illusion charm, or something else?”
“You've seen Grif’s power, his interaction with the physical world, yes?” she asked calmly as she picked up a steaming cup, and took a sip of tea. “There are two parts to every god’s power, Vital Spark: the physical and the ethereal. A physical manifestation is rarer, for the power it brings is unquestionable, but one should not question the power of the intangible, my young Zebra friend.” She laughed as she produced a hand mirror, and showed him his reflection. The image of the Unicorn wavered like a mirage in the savannah, and was replaced by a strangely familiar striped face.
“So this is your way of sharing a fragment of the vision the Winds grant you?” Vital asked curiously.
“Black and white, or white and black? Which do you see? The stripes tell a tale yet to come. Strength and knowledge from the past awaits for the Unicorn with a Zebra’s heart. The warrior who heals, the shaman who destroys. Two halves of a coin. The power to give life, and the power to destroy it, will be yours. You must be prepared to accept the face you will see in the mirror when it is done.
“Take heart in knowing that you are only evil, if you stop questioning if you are evil. The elements of harmony have their place, but remember that generosity needs shrewdness. Kindness needs cruelty. Honesty must have deception. Laughter must have tears to make it seem so sweet. Only loyalty stands alone, for betrayal cannot be abided. Be moderate, be balanced, be sure enough to act, but never so sure as to stop questioning yourself. Your own sun and moon do sit before you. You have tasted the sun already, though briefly, and you bathe in the moonlight. When the time demands, a choice will be presented you, but remember, in this case, not everything can be black–” she waved her talons in front of the mirror, and his normal image returned. “–and white. Choose what is for you, not for anyone else, for your path shall have its own glory to achieve. And lastly, you will have a reason to celebrate seventy-two hours from this moment.” She smiled at him. “That is all I have.”
Vital held a hoof to his chin as he furrowed his brow, deep in thought. “Opposition in all things.” He chuckled. “It seems some things are universal. Or is that multiversal?” he asked with a hint of a smile.
“It could be omniversal,” Melody offered with her own smile.
“I’m just glad you didn’t say anything about tasting the rainbow.” Vital couldn’t help but chuckle. Then his face fell. “But in all seriousness, thank you. I don’t know what all of it means, but I’ve got some pretty solid ideas for a lot of it. I guess my only other question is, should I tell the others about my … trip, or keep it to myself?”
“Best to keep it you yourself,” Melody offered. “They worry about you enough right now.”
Vital chuckled ruefully. “Don’t I know it.”
Gilda entered the room as Vital walked past. She gave a small tilt of her beak, the only sign of acknowledgement she would give as she approached the Empress. The door shut behind, and Vital was left alone with the guard, who escorted him back to the room, where the others waited.
Gilda entered the reception room with Melody following close behind. The Empress looked at the group with a Mona Lisa smile as she settled into one of the chairs. “I have something to say to all of you. As you know, a prophecy cannot be spoken about, unless it is first given to those to whom it pertains. Such is the law of the Winds, and we abide by their will, even if they can only be here in spirit. This last prophecy I have to give pertains to the adults. So hear what I have to say, and follow my council.”
She waited a moment to make sure she had their attention, then opened her beak again. “Do not head west when the sun rises, but south, to a power a few of you know, but have not spoken, to he who stood to oppose heaven and earth, and traveled west to save those damned. Neither god nor a demon, yet he knows no end. Visit him again.”
“... Grif, is she talking about who I think she’s talking about?” Vital asked slowly.
“That's asking a lot,” Grif said, deliberately ignoring Vital this time. “Melody, if he doesn’t approve of us bringing strangers, he’ll destroy them.”
She shook her head. “To avoid the destruction of that which you hold dear, you must visit the island. Greet him as a brother. But the Winds have revealed to me that confrontation with the sage is inevitable. The one with neither wing nor horn must spar with the king, that the relationship may be forged anew, and respect be earned. Either at the island … or in Equestria.”
Grif sighed. “Fortunately, Monkeygascar is only a short hop from here.” He looked worriedly at the prophetess. “And you're certain it’ll be okay?”
“A little pain now is far better than losing the more precious later. It will be well.”
Grif looked at Hammer Strike. “Your call.”
Hammer Strike shrugged. “Sure. Whatever.”
Grif smiled at Pensword and Bellacosa. “Looks like we’re going to see an old friend. And yes, Vital, it’s likely who you think it is.”
Vital whistled. “I’m going to be on my best behavior then, aren’t I?”
Cosy giggled. “Yup.”
“Well, Vital, he kicked my butt without moving a single foot, so just think on that.” Grif chuckled as he lowered his beak to Melody one last time. “Tell the Emperor I said goodnight. I’m sure we’ll see him in the morning. There was, after all, a piece of cargo aboard the ship he wished to see before we left. I must return to my family.” He turned to Gilda. “You coming?”
Gilda nodded, and followed silently behind.
Pensword shook his head. “At least I have my family with me this time.”
“And now we have the night to sleep on our prophecies,” Vital added as he made his way to the door. “I guess I’ll see you all on the Gantrithor.” He smiled, and gave a quick bow towards Melody, before making his way out.
Hammer Strike stood from his chair with a soft sigh. “Farewell, Melody. And thank you once more.”
Extended Holiday Ch 125: A Cause for Celebration Act 18
“Good morning, Your Majesty.” Grif chuckled as Daedalus approached with a small entourage. “I likely know why you're here, but I have to ask that you come with me alone. She’s not going to be happy with a bunch of guards tramping up in armor.”
“Not even if it’s an honor guard?” Daedalus chuckled. “Far be it for me to question the will of a mother who’s recently given birth.” With a motion of his talons, the guards stood down, lining up in formation on either side of the gangplank. “Lead on, Grif. I’m looking forward to getting to know this Cheshire.”
Grif led him onto the ship, and into its guts. “With Hammer Strike’s help, we’ve begun to rework the ship. As you may have noticed, the runic markings have been switched for more … economically sound magical pathways. I fear the next time you see it, you might not recognize my ship.”
“Don’t you mean Hammer Strike’s ship?” Daedalus asked teasingly.
“He may be my oath holder, but I’ll be caught featherless in a rainstorm in Tartarus before I’d let anyone else take her,” Grif chuckled. “Besides, there are secrets unveiled in this ship that are better left in my talons for now.”
“Interesting. We may have to discuss those secrets some day, Grif. When the need to keep them isn’t so urgent, of course,” the Emperor assured him as they slowed their pace to stop near a sturdy door.
Grif knocked carefully, then checked over his shoulder, and behind Daedalus, before speaking. “Cheshire? You in? I have a visitor for little Chu.”
“Come on in, boys. I’ve been expecting you.” Cheshire’s voice was light and heady, and a purring over the speakers indicated a sense of contentment and wellbeing.
Grif opened the door, and gestured for Daedalus to enter.
The room was stark, with a wide bed. An extra crib had been added for later use, when the new cub was old enough to be weaned. A nest of pillows and blankets covered the mattress frame, and a kaleidoscope of glaring colors clashed against one another as the pair looked on the many decorations the Gryphoness had somehow managed to take with her from New Unity, including a certain tea set that lay steaming on a table nearby. Cheshire lay on the makeshift nest, holding her cub close to her teats as she looked on the pair.
“Cheshire the Mad, daughter of Hattie Habberdash and March Hareford Wonderland Skytalon. Your reputation precedes you,” Daedalus said with a smile and a nod of his head. “I believe I owe you my life.”
“Will that be years, months, or days?” Cheshire asked playfully. “I’d take hours or minutes, but they’re just so hard to keep track of.”
Daedalus chuckled. “That’s nothing compared to all the seconds I’ve had to count. What a headache.”
The Gryphoness smiled appreciatively, and motioned to the table. “Tea, Your Majesty? Grif was kind enough to give me some of his supply from Neighpon. He just didn’t know he’d already done it at the time,” she added with a wink.
“Joke’s on you, Cheshire. I knew you’d raid my tea. That’s why I placed the good stuff in the maddest place I could think of,” Grif chuckled.
“You mean that compartment beneath your hearth? It was such a lovely spot. The heat from the coals had warmed the leaves just right.” She sighed in pleasure.
“That’s what I thought. That’s why the best leaves hung in the chimney above the spot.” Grif winked at her. “How is Chu Chulan?” he asked.
“As hungry as three fully grown males, with a mouth to match.” She chuckled as the cub continued to nurse. “Of course, I was feeling rather full anyways, so it’s quite welcome.”
Daedalus cleared his throat as he did his best to quell the blush in his cheeks. “Speaking of the cub, while I have arranged for honors to be given to Kal’leam for his service, the birth of your son has granted a rather interesting avenue to bridge the gap between the Equestrian Gryphons and the Gryphons of my empire. Tell me, Cheshire, how does the idea of dual citizenship strike you?”
“Well that depends. Does that come with the right to visit my husband whenever we want?”
“And much more. I could always sweeten the deal with diplomatic immunity. That’ll really steam those bureaucrats and elitists, don’t you think?” the Emperor asked as he poured three cups, one for Grif, one for himself, and one for the nursing mother.
“It might.” Cheshire shrugged. “You’re thinking too linearly, though, Daedalus. If you want to keep your throne, you need to think crossways, seesaw, loopdeloop, and see-through. And that’s just the start.”
“You need to think sideways, and upways, and downways, and backways, and alleyways,” Grif added with a wink.
“And what about highways?” Daedalus asked as he took a sip from his cup.
“Too much blockage,” Cheshire said with a dismissive wave.
“I’d like to have a ceremony some time, too, but Melody says it won’t be possible, so I’d like to present you two with these now.” He pulled out a pair of badges, each shaped to look like one of Melody’s shimmering feathers with a bloodstone at the nib. “Show these to anyone, and you’ll have unrestricted access to me. I’m afraid you’ll need to add any protective charms or enchantments yourself, though. As I’m sure you’re both well aware, magic isn’t exactly prominent in our ranks anymore.”
Grif was suddenly the object of an intense glare from Cheshire, and the young gryphon was treated to the rare sight of seeing his hero wilt a bit. “That problem may be … fixable in the future, Daedalus.”
“You mean to say she’s ready to teach already?”
“Daedalus, what I’m going to tell you cannot reach anyone yet. Avalon won’t be starting from the ground up. We have access to the resources left behind by the original evokers. The fortress was sealed with magic when I vanished. By Equestria’s law, as much as by yours, it was mine by capture. All the scrolls, the books, the notes needed to get Avalon going with initiations, they’re all still intact.” Grif sighed, still uneasy as he said the next words. “In a few years, an academy may be doable.”
“And the gems?”
“I have all five now,” Grif said as he tapped the buckler on his shoulder. “All I need is the Khopesh of Thoth, the one stained with the blood of Anubis, but I’ve been told by your wife that I will need to wait for someone to bring it to me." He took a drink from his cup. “Patience is all we can do for now, Daedalus. Rest assured, the Winds will come home, even if I must sacrifice all. I promise you that much.”
“Well, now that we have all the drama out of the way, who’s up for a little game?” Cheshire asked as her smile widened into a grin.
“I’m afraid we won’t have the time, Cheshire. Pensword will no doubt be looking for me to wonder why we haven’t taken our leave yet. I’m sure Daedalus can arrange for some way that we can provide you an easy transport between here and the Empire.” Grif grinned, thankful to breach the subject that he’d needed an opening for. “Perhaps His Majesty would see fit to gift us a few more stormstone cores. Then we could build you your own craft.”
Daedalus winced. “Ah … perhaps we should discuss that during our next visit,” he said delicately. “After things are properly settled.”
Grif nodded as he finished his cup. “I suppose that's the best answer I could hope for.” He returned the cup to the table, and sighed. “It has been a pleasure seeing you again, Daedalus. I hope you’ll name the first boy after my father.” He chuckled, and fixed the emperor with a wink. “Shall I show you out?”
“I’m afraid it is that time. Next time, Cheshire, I would like the chance to know you better. Until then, may the Winds always be at your wings, and may your little one grow into a warrior as great as his sires.” He bowed low to the pair. “You will always have my thanks.” And with that, he made his way out to the hall.
“I’ll see you later, Chesh.” Grif nodded to her, before he followed after Daedalus. He hadn’t lied about his enjoyment at seeing the Emperor, but he wouldn’t be upset to see this mountain shrinking into the distance by midmorning.
Due to overwhelming demand, Grif had been forced to set up additional training grounds on the Gantrithor’s deck. Pensword made good use of them as he stood in the newly built range, working with his modified Gryphon bow, shooting arrow after arrow. Ten targets sat at the far end of the range. The hay bales marking its edge had been peppered with loose arrows in random clusters, ready to be picked up and fired. A single quiver of arrows lay on a table to his right. The first bullseye had been embedded with three split arrows, creating a blossom effect. He nodded in satisfaction, before he shifted to clusters. He snorted as he looked to his Gryphon bow, and smiled as he felt it accepting his authority. The arms bent more easily, the recoil was less, and the string would bend sometimes to the point where he had to shift his stance to adjust his aim. The weight of the weapon had become significantly lighter, to the point where he could add it to his armor, and not feel a single change in his burden.
He finished unloading his quiver, and groped blindly for an arrow that wasn’t there. He scanned the targets, and then the quivers. Every single arrow had struck where he wanted, and, to his pleasant surprise, he was still in control of his breathing. His ears twitched as he heard the familiar clack of talon and claw on metal. “Grif, is that you?” he shouted, keeping his eyes on his hoofwork. All ten bullseyes had twenty arrows clustered closely around them.
“You’ve really taken to that, haven’t you?” Grif chuckled.
“I’ve got to,” Pensword responded. “I need to be better. What I heard back there.…” He shook his head. “My claws must be honed and sharp.” Without warning, he plucked a stray arrow from a nearby bale with a wing, and fired in one fluid motion. The shaft struck a support pillar, pinged off it, and impaled the farthest target. “I think this is part of the thaumic stuff,” he muttered. “No way I could make that shot normally.”
“So, since you want to sharpen those claws of yours, would you like me to increase the tension closer to what it normally is?” Grif asked.
“Yes, please,” Pensword said eagerly. “This trip has been good for my training. Being at the desk for so long made me too soft.” He chuckled. “I already ran the circumference of the ship twice this morning.”
Grif took the bow carefully, and began working with the tension settings. “Maybe you should get some leg weights,” he offered. “They helped me when the normal morning run stopped doing anything.” He tested the string, before handing it back to the Pegasus. “It’s at a third the average tension a Gryphon uses right now.”
“I doubt I will get to the full scale, but … do you think I could train my Gryphon kids in the old ways, black and blue?” he asked as he pulled the drawstring back. He grinned at the resistance. It would only make him stronger. He grabbed another arrow from the hay, nocked it, and went through the motions of firing the arrow.
“I can, or I can find others who can, if I can’t get around my duties. I may be attaching a new project to my list of them soon, one that requires me to be far more involved. You dorealize if you want to build muscle, you're going to need to do more than work the draw weight of that bow,” Grif pointed out as he watched the Pegasus contend with the new strain.
“I know,” Pensword grunted. “Also, have you got a cordoned off area on the ship where I can practice thaumic skills? I’ve been holding off while we’re traveling, but I need to redouble my efforts.”
“I tend to practice here on the deck near the front of the ship. There’s an area there I’ve sectioned off. It’s quiet, and if anything were to go wrong, there would be less damage.” Grif led his friend along the deck, until they reached a shaded area near the ship’s bow. A shallow circle had been scratched into the wood of the deck. “Get in,” Grif ordered, gesturing to the center. The Pony moved to obey, placing his bow down on the ground just out of reach, but still within sight, before entering the circle. Grif approached the wall, and grabbed a trio of practice swords. He tossed one to Pensword, a heavy broadsword that would prove difficult for the Pony to wield. When the commander had finally raised the weapon into a proper fighting stance, Grif held up his two thin longswords, and grinned.
Pensword winced as he felt his muscles protesting against the weight. “Just don’t break any of my bones, Grif,” he grunted.
“Oh, I won’t break anything.” Grif smirked as he circled his friend. “But you're going to hate me in the morning. That much I can promise. You know, I think it might be because of Taze, because of his and Matthew’s memories, but I have to be honest. I’ve always held back against you, helped to close the gap in our skills. For that, I think I must apologize to you. It’s a mistake I won’t be making anymore.”
“Good. But if I keep making the same mistake, you’d better stop the spar, and help me through the motions. I need to be better, but if I am beating against a stone wall, I need tricks and chisels. I don’t have any of your wind powers.”
“Would Supreme Sunrise have done that?” Grif asked. Both already knew the answer. “If I stop to explain it to you, you're going to grow complacent in that. You know that won’t happen for you on the battlefield. How strong you are doesn’t matter, if you can’t think on your hooves. I’m going to do you the biggest favor I can. I’m going to meet you out here every night. Drag you, if necessary; and I am going to beat you black and blue, until you’re so numb to pain that it becomes a distant memory. You're my best friend, Pensword, and I’m going to make you a warrior worthy of legend, or I’m going to kill you trying.”
“Sounds good,” Pensword said as his mouth set in a grim line. He readied the blade, and Grif charged. Pensword blocked, and spun as he yelled to counterattack, but Grif was already gone.
Pensword crawled into his bed. His bruises were painful to the touch, but the smile on his muzzle could light up a room. Despite the relief from their burden, all four of his legs shook the moment he rolled to his side. Grif said he’d been amazed Pensword had managed to hit him not once, but twice in their little hour session. Pensword, on the other hoof, got knocked around with exactly two-thousand-five-hundred-and-sixty-five hits. Moon Burn had counted. He was in a daze over the gap.
Of course, Lunar Fang and Fox Feather both took care of him, Fox Feather being one to preen all his feathers for him, acting like a war bride would during the Third Gryphon War. Lunar Fang was treating him like a sick foal as she fed him pieces of vampire fruit bat with a big grin on her muzzle. “Well, you may never gotten the Thestral training you should have, but you sure are making up for it now.”
Fox Feather shuddered. “But does he have to push himself so hard? This is almost like the stories of Hurricane’s day.” She gulped at the glares Pensword fixed her with.
“Our husband likely has a reason for his actions.” Lunar Fang turned to face him. “However, as his wives, I believe we also have a right to know.”
Pensword winced, both from the physical pain of his training and the emotional pain that little chastisement had struck him with. “I … I was told one of our cubs is in danger to darkness, a darkness that is described as the kind that might have taken our high chieftess.”
Lunar Fang dropped the piece of bat meat she’d been holding, and let out a low hiss. “And you didn’t think this was important to share with us sooner?” Her demeanor changed immediately as her head whipped around to face a rather surprised Fox Feather. She bore her fangs as her wings flapped out widely to either side. “Fox Feather, I’m officially invoking my right as herd mother. You and I are going to be sparring each other daily. And we’re both going to be increasing our training regimens. I’m going to teach you to fight like a Thestral, and you’ll share Pegasus tactics with me in turn.”
“I don’t understand. What–?”
“It’s a nightmare, Fox Feather.” Lunar Fang trembled as she fought to blink back the tears and stem the fear. “A nightmare is going to try to possess our baby, just like the one that did Princess Luna.” She narrowed her gaze. “We’re not going to let that happen. Not without a fight.”
“I….” Fox Feather broke off, struggling to find the words. Finally, she nodded slowly. “I understand.”
“Good.” She turned back to Pensword. “I’ll be having a chat with Grif, too. Like it or not, we’re going to get at least demand one day a month for me to spar with you. And you’ll be clearing time in our schedules, so Fox Feather and I can train together.”
“Y-yes, Dear,” Pensword agreed.
“Good. Now that that’s settled, it’s time for you to get some rest. Fox Feather and I will take care of our own preparations.” She took a brush in her hoof, and began to run it gently through her mate’s mane. Meanwhile, Fox Feather began to preen his wings. Gradually, the Pegasus’ eyes drooped closed, and he fell into the void that was sleep.
Pensword slept fitfully that night. The pieces of prophecy weighed heavily on his mind. And yet, despite this, he soon found the blackness giving way to, of all things, a training field filled to the brim with equipment, weapons, armor, and all manner of obstacles for exercise. And yet, though he recognized the equipment, he didn’t recognized the place. The sky was dark, and the stars shone brightly overhead, though no moon could be seen. Everything seemed to stand in dark blue or gray tones. The arena was as big as the castle at New Unity. Observation decks and walkways had been built around the edge for spectators to watch. His ears twitched, and he snapped his head in the direction as he splayed his wings out, ready for battle, only to see the familiar figure of a blue Alicorn in her full ursa armor.
“Your dreams are troubled, Commander,” Princess Luna said as her ethereal mane waved placidly behind her. “Something weighs heavily on your mind.” She held a halting wing. “No need to speak. I have no desire to learn the specifics. I only know what my premonitions tell me. Something is stirring, and you need training to face what will come. I admit, a large part of that need is my own fault. I have burdened you with much responsibility, and that has made it difficult for you to remain in shape. That is something I intend to correct, starting tonight.”
She smirked. “I have so much to teach my Thestrals, so much knowledge and tactics lost to time. I built this place to train them, so they can practice while they dream in the waking world. I sense that you are traveling. Tomorrow, when you have time to practice, call your Gryphon children to you, and train them. Give them scars as Grif’s father gave to his son. Teach them the old ways, and hone your skills together. This will aid you in two ways. First, it will assist you in overcoming your prejudice against the Gryphons of today. Secondly, it will allow you to prepare, taking their own strategies into account to better your countermeasures.” She pawed at the earth with her hoof. “But now is not the time for chat. We have only a few hours in which to train. The night is waning.” She levitated a sword to her side, and her smirk widened into a grin. “Now come at me, my Commander, and let us spar as our people once did in olden times. You will not win this night, but you will learn. And learning is the greatest weapon you can hope to hone now.”
Pensword could feel the weight, the memory of the armor of old. He felt the shifting click of the familiar wing blades. He grinned as he held up a wing and deflected a blade as Luna teleported close for a quick slash, only to teleport away just as quickly to avoid Pensword’s retaliating kick.
Pensword took to the air, and extended his senses. He rolled and dove to the left as the Princess plunged from the sky. He lashed, out and heard metal scrape against metal. The inertia from the contact veered him to the side towards his attacker. Luna responded by reaching out with her hooves and wrapping her forelegs around Pensword, who allowed it, before striking back with a free wing. This forced Luna’s head back, and led her to release, before bucking Pensword to the ground with both hind legs with an exultant laugh.
Pensword struck the ground hard, forming a massive crater. Yet despite the damage, he somehow managed to rise. He looked about in utter confusion. His bones should have been crushed, his body reduced to so much tenderized meat.
Luna laughed all the more. “Do you see this? Do you now see what powers you have? You have the same field Hammer Strike has, Pensword, the same Grif has. You are not the fragile little Pony you fear yourself to be, or rather, the fragile being that Matthew has taught you to be. That side of your nature is no more. If that had happened in the real world, yes you would be hit, you will be sore, but you would still be standing, just as you are right now. We saw what one of our outbursts did to our teacher, and he shrugged it off. With enough training, you can do the same.” She grinned much wider. “Now, come at me again.”
Pensword bellowed, raised his wing blades, and charged Princess Luna once more. Feeling better, less concerned, more free, as one more fear and worry about his body and his durability slipped away. Even as they fought, he could feel the pains in his body fading as something worked to stitch things together. He wasn’t sure of the impact this would have on his body in the waking world, but at this point, it didn’t seem to matter. He felt something crunching as he continued to dance.
Luna smiled as her horn glowed, and she fired off blasts that charred or even dug up the ground as Pensword jumped out of the way. She continued to herd him, and he knew strategically, that could not be allowed. So he took a calculated risk. He jumped into one of the shots, and let it blast him back into a wall. At the instant the beam let up, he leapt back, jumped off the wall, and surged into the air, arching over the blast that would have hit him otherwise. He spun, both to evade the redirection of the beam and to gather his magic together. Slowly, the wind began to gather around his body as the dust below rose into the air. Faster and faster he flew, and soon a vortex had formed around the princess. She spread her wings wide to try to break the cycle and disperse the energies, but Pensword had given it too much momentum. And with all the dust, she knew she wouldn’t be able to see her target properly. She retracted her wings, using them to guard her face against the debris to preserve her vision. At that moment, her eyes widened in surprise, and she let out a shrill whinny as she felt the cold touch of steel across her hind legs. Her reaction was instant as a surge of blue magic blasted the vortex apart and slammed Pensword into the earth below, leaving an imprint of his body in the ground.
Pensword looked up dazedly as his vision came back into focus. The visage of a grim-faced Luna stared down at him holding the frost-coated remains of a bucket of water. He shuddered as the sensation of the cold and frost in his mane registered at last. He shook it gently, and the crackle of the follicles breaking free echoed in his ears.
“Congratulations, Pensword. You are one of only ten of my children to have nicked their princess on their first training. It takes most nearly six sessions before they’re able to overcome the obstacle of facing a beloved ruler. Avatar of the moon or no, in this field, I am a trainer and an adversary. It is good to know that you acknowledged that from the beginning.” She smiled then. “Well done, indeed. However, there is still a matter that requires our attention. You can know how to fight well, the greatest techniques, the most brilliant strategies for nearly every scenario under the sun, but these will do nothing for you without the proper motivation. The motivation is the will, and the will is often what decides who will win in the long run. And so I ask you, Pensword, son of Iron Pen. Why do you fight? You were tapping into techniques and abilities that normally take Ponies a good three months at least in my training, before they can access them.” Her smile widened into a grin. “What is it that drives you so? What are you fighting for? What is it that is so precious that you would throw yourself this heavily, perhaps even recklessly, into your training?”
In a matter of seconds, Pensword found his dream body fully restored. “A warning, Chieftess, from the chosen prophetess of the Winds. It essentially went something like this.” He sighed, then raised his head high. When next he spoke, his voice reverberated through the dream. “I saw a bear with cub, but a monster came to attack the cub. The bear had not been challenged in so long that he had not the strength to save the cub, and the cub was taken. The monster overwhelmed the cub, and put itself inside her. From that point on, the cub became a wild she-bear, and bathed in blood and fire. But I saw also that, should the bear be warned, he might sharpen his claws upon tree and stump, upon rock and log, until they shone with death's own light. And with the rage of bears long past, he would fight the monster back.” He took a deep breath and the last part boomed louder over the dreamscape. “‘Till raven and wolf on shadow feast, the bear must battle again and again, and hold back the beast.’”
Pensword would never forget what he saw that night in the dream realm. The mask of the warrior that Pensword associated with his Princess, his High Chieftess, shattered as her eyes widened. Her head reared back, and steam came from her angry snort as her eyes flashed with the light of the stars. When they had returned to normal, her expression was grave.
“Every night from now till I deem thee ready, we shall spar, and I will teach thee the magic of the dream hunters. It is true the sight beyond is your gift, but you and I both know that gift will not serve you against this foe. No matter how long it takes in the dream time, no matter how deeply into your subconscious we must travel to prolong your training, you will learn to repel this creature. As it stands, you have only one female cub born into your family. And you and I both know we cannot allow her to come to harm.” She shook with suppressed rage as her eyes glowed red, and her pupils narrowed to slits. “I know what it is to fall to a nightmare. I know the torture of being trapped within the confines of my own mind for centuries. It is a torture I will not allow to befall our precious Moon River. And so I name it here by my power, for knowledge of the creature will limit its power and influence. Remember its name, Pensword. I gave Orion his blade in the name of this creature, and he paid the price for it. It is a sin I would not have repeated.” A circle of brilliant blue light began to draw around her as flickers of the energy arced upwards. “I name this creature. Defiler of Dreams, Doubt Whisperer, Fear Caster, Sibilant Shade, Usurper of Thought and Will.” She slammed her hooves on the ground, and spread her wings wide as the circle flared, before blasting outwards. “I name this creature Nightmare!”
Everywhere her magic touched, the arena changed, shifting from soft turf and stands to a lone desolate mountain top. An unfriendly wind blew through the air. The cold seeped into Pensword’s bones. Lightning lashed overhead. “Now come, Pensword. Fight me!” she cried as her form shimmered and boiled away till something else stood there. “Or this night shall last forever!” Nightmare Moon cackled as she fired her magic into the clouds, triggering the storm to break as an onslaught of hail and lightning bolts smashed around the Pegasus.
Pensword snorted, and charged. He knew Luna wouldn’t be holding back. She may not have been possessed again, but she knew the tactics of the creatures better than anypony alive. If he was to hope to counter it, he would need to learn to defeat the facsimile that stood before him. He jerked left to avoid a bolt of lightning, then launched into the air to try another tornado spin. Before he could even begin the attack, he felt hi body lock in midair. Nightmare Moon bared her fangs in a malevolent grin. She tossed her head negligently, and Pensword found the world tumbling through the air like a cloud knocked aside by Rainbow’s haste. He finally managed to right himself, only to catch a beam of magic to the face and chest that smashed him into a rocky pillar.
He heard a scream, and his heart froze in fear. Moon River. Even if this was an exercise, that meant he was failing. He couldn’t afford to allow Nightmare to succeed. His eyes narrowed, and he charged again, screaming bloody murder against the Nightmare, and right into her trap.
Luna tut-tutted disappointedly as Pensword returned from his second blackout of the night. How that was even possible in a dream, he didn’t know, but there it was. “We have much to teach thee, Commander.” Her eyes narrowed. “That last action would have cost not just Moon River, but you, Commander, and that would give us two mad bears to fight.” She sighed. “We have much to teach thee, but we know where to start. Grif is teaching your body during your waking hours. I will teach your soul and mind as your body sleeps. I will begin by teaching you the basics of dream warfare and strategy. After you have them down, you will use my tactics and those of your own design when you can to increase the defenses within the unconscious mind. No more nightmares tonight. Come.” She tossed her head, and a chalkboard materialized behind her with a fresh piece of chalk in her magical grip. “Let us begin.”
Hammer Strike sat in his room, a few pieces of parchment before him, namely letters giving him updates on conditions in Equestria, most specifically in New Unity, including an update from Clover on the mage unit’s training regimen. Still, despite the abundance of materials to draw his attention away, his mind inevitably returned to Melody’s vision.
Two times. Two times now that he’d been shown a glimpse into his future, and neither held a shred of promise. No peaceful smiles, no happy endings, no glimpses of foals or family friends. Instead, he knew the time and date of his death and the image of himself: worn down, horrifically scarred, and most disturbing of all, mentally broken.
“He seems troubled,” one feminine voice popped up. It was deeper, with a kind of droning monotone.
“Well, it’ll teach him a lesson for all the trouble he gives me,” another higher voice said.
“I don’t know. Is it fair to taunt him for something he can’t control?” a third softer voice asked.
Hammer Strike sighed. He didn’t recognize the voices at all, and the chance of it being a Gryphon was next to nothing. “So who’s come to visit this time?” he asked as he turned towards the trio of voices. His eyes glowed with thaumic energy for a moment, before he shook his head.
Three gray mares sat across from him. One was tall and thin, the second short and fat, and the middle one ... Hammer Strike was unable to find a good description for her other than average. Aside from the sizes, they all held identical steel-gray coats with a lighter gray mane and tail. Their cutie marks were all of single eye. Oddly enough, the marks seemed to change, opening and closing in a weird sort of rhythm. When one was open, the other two were always shut tight.
“Oh, so you choose to acknowledge me now?” the smaller one asked in a huff.
“I need to calm down. He isn’t hostile,” the taller one chastised.
“Well maybe I should stop being rude and make introductions,” the middle one noted. “I am the embodiment of what is to happen.”
“I write every event that will be, has been, or is,” the taller mare said.
“I see the glory and the folly of every being,” the smaller one chimed in.
“I am Fate,” they spoke in unison.
“I’m starting to notice a pattern for when others like yourself become visible to me,” Hammer Strike commented.
“Oh, well aren't you a smart one? It should be no surprise from Mom and Dad's favorite mortal,” the shorter one snarked.
“The only stallion Death’s afraid of,” the middle one commented.
“Chance’s best friend,” the taller one added with a gentle smile.
“So what brings you here? I’m almost positive you knew I would be able to see you now.” Hammer Strike turned his full attention towards the trio. “Perhaps another jab towards my future and what other horrific events are to come?”
“Like you care what I’ve written for you,” the smaller one snorted.
“You’ve never listened to me before,” the middle one pointed out.
“It‘s strange,” the taller one added.
Hammer Strike raised a brow questioningly. After a moment, he leaned back as something clicked. “I’ve done something that shouldn’t have happened, haven’t I?”
“What haven’t you done?” the middle one asked. “By all accounts, that missing ear is about the only thing I’ve managed to get right, and that's only half done.”
“I work outside of your written words,” Hammer Strike commented as he thought aloud. “Quite odd how I work outside most of the embodiments’ domain.” A small grin crept onto his face. “It’s almost like I’ve got something to counter your control.”
“I know you tread on Sleipnir's territory,” the small one growled. “Like that will end well.”
“I know how these games will end, and I have accepted those facts. But until that day comes, I’ve got plenty to add,” he replied simply. “I’m curious of how much you can see into our lives, seeing as each of us potentially try, and sometimes succeed in going the opposite way you wanted.”
“You and Grif most of all,” the taller one smiled. “It can be very entertaining. I haven’t been surprised in so long.”
“Then I’m certain you’ll have more to be surprised by.” Hammer Strike gave a faint chuckle.
“I’m more than certain of it,” the middle one said. “For it is not like I could force you to listen.”
“Hey, if you worked alongside what I wanted to do, then you wouldn’t have much of a problem,” Hammer Strike commented, a small grin still on his face.
“I don’t usually have to bow to the whims of mortals,” the small one huffed.
“Why, I just said working alongside me. You’ve obviously noted that sometimes you get it right in the end.”
“Be glad I’m not Destiny. She can’t begin to describe her loathing of you,” the small one said.
“Don’t worry. I’m almost certain I’ll see her soon enough. Slowly, one by one, you all appear before my eyes, and I’m sure I’ll see you all before my time is through.”
“Yes. Well, I have books to write, and work to do, so I’ll get out of your mane,” the taller one said.
“But keep in mind that if you will not heed me, then I cannot be blamed for the consequences that follow,” the middle one added.
“So don’t come crying when things go wrong,” the small one added. Then, with a comical pop, they vanished.
“I never have, nor will I ever,” Hammer Strike said into the emptiness as he turned towards his letters once more.
Vital Spark sat on his bed with his eyes closed as the magic in his horn pulsated. The tomes he’d brought from New Unity hovered and swirled gently around him, along with Watcher and his violin. He breathed steadily as he concentrated on the warp and weave of his magical aura, seeking out the mana within the air surrounding him. A large Do Not Disturb sign had been frozen over the front door in a solid block of ice as the words from Melody’s prophecies played through his mind.
He remembered the arid savannah, and the strange shifting of his reflection. It still spooked him how the transition had run so smoothly. Did that mean he would eventually gain a third form, or was it merely a symbol of the culture he would inevitably be exposed to? And then there was the whole point of time travel happening in the first place. He hated to think about how the others might react, let alone what they’d do to him later for keeping it from them.
The magic fluctuated, and the artifacts began to whirl faster. His brows furrowed, and he willed the tornado to slow. This exercise was about maintaining calm as he sifted through the information. He couldn’t afford to let anxiety drive his magic. Another deep breath, and he focused on Wukong. The Monkey King would require careful handling. One wrong move, and he could easily kill any of them. At the same time, the idea of meeting one of the greatest historical legends from Earth was tantalizing, exciting. And … for once, he would know about an entity Clover wouldn’t. He couldn’t help but chuckle at that.
And then there was the meddlesome part of Melody’s prophecy about some reason to celebrate. While that was generally a good sign, that didn’t mean he shouldn’t exercise some form of caution. As things stood, it was likely Wukong would insist they stay at least a night, assuming he accepted the rest of them.
Vital sighed as he released his hold, and returned the items where they belonged. While he may not have found inner peace, at least his mind was … somewhat clearer.
Crack
The sound filled the room, like breaking glass ... or ice.
“Well … so much for a clear head,” Vital groaned as he turned towards the door. “You know, you could always knock!” he shouted.
There was another crack, this time from Vital’s desk as the temperature in the room took a sudden drop. The Unicorn whipped his head to the desk, where a frost-encrusted stand held the base of the cryophoenix egg in place. The blanket the Bird of Paradise had given him acted as an insulator for the egg, pouring its frigid energy into the shell. Vital’s eyes widened as the runes around the desk flared, then broke, and the frost began to advance. With each new crack, the temperature dropped further, and a pale light began to peek out from under the blanket as the egg wobbled.
“Well, so much for wondering about the celebration,” Vital said in a surprisingly clinical voice. “And the fact that I’m feeling this calm should probably unnerve me more. … Clover would be proud.” He used his magic to gradually ease the blanket off the egg to reveal the white seams where the stress from the chick within had caused the shell to weaken. “You know, I still haven’t gotten a proper name for you yet. I hope you don’t mind,” he warned. “I figured I’d really know after I see you and hear you.” He smiled sheepishly, and blushed. “Wow. I’m talking to an egg. Granted, an egg that’s hatching, but still. The guys would probably be a bit concerned about now.” Then he chuckled as he cast a quick insulation spell. Better to be on the safe side, especially with how quickly the frost was spreading.
A piece of the egg broke away, and fell from the desk like a chunk from a glacier, and Vital Spark swore he could see movement from within the small crack. He approached with caution. Considering the egg was supposed to shatter completely, it was likely there would be stray shards to catch or deflect, when the chick was ready to emerge. His horn hummed with magic as he braced for any potential mishaps. “Well, I don’t know if I’m ready to be a father, but if it’s your time, it’s your time,” he said with a chuckle.
As more of the ice broke away, a dark blue beak poked through, letting out a small cheep as it worked at more of the icy shell.
“Huh. When she said shatter, I thought she meant breaking the egg apart like shrapnel,” Vital mused as he watched. “Are you planning on doing things differently, little one?”
And then the eggshell proceeded to explode into fragments, peppering the surrounding area with bits of ice as it revealed the small white down of the frost-covered chick.
Vital Spark was grateful for the shield he was able to erect over his face. “Thank you, Shining Armor,” he muttered. Then he winced as he felt the beginnings of blood flow down his legs and torso. It was slight, but the cold of the room let him know exactly where he’d been hit. He sighed as he used his telekinesis to remove the fragments. He then proceeded to levitate the first aid kit from its compartment by the side of the door. It didn’t take him long to disinfect the sites, and bandage them up where it was needed. “You know,” he chuckled, “you’d think I’d have learned not to open the door up for Murphy by now.” He smiled as he approached the chick. “You surprised me, little one.”
The bird tilted her head to the side, and chirped at him curiously.
“Well, I don’t know if I’d say I’m your father, but I am the one who helped hatch you,” he said as he levitated the bird briefly in his magic, then wrapped it up loosely in the blanket’s folds, so it could have a little wiggle room, if it needed it. “Though the question still remains for what to call you. After all, everyone needs a name, don’t they?”
Again, a cheep.
“Well, I can’t exactly go calling you Cheep, now can I? Too easy for people to target and insult you. I don’t think either of us wants that.” This time, Vital Spark cocked his head to the side as he pondered the scenario, cradling the hatchling all the while. “This’d be a lot easier if I could hear what you sound like normally, but that’d take too long.” He sighed as he walked back to the desk. “There’s all kinds of elegant names I could give you, but I don’t know if any of them would really fit, truth be told. What do you think, little one? Do you have a preference? What would you like to be called?”
The chick looked at him silently, seemingly attempting to impress the fact that she could not say anything he’d understand.
“Doesn’t mean I can’t ask,” he pointed out. “Empathy is a powerful link, you know,” he said pointedly as he walked over to his violin case. “I know your species are generally songbirds. Would you like to hear one?”
He received an enthusiastic cheep in response.
He chuckled to himself. “Surprisingly intelligent for one so freshly hatched. Are all phoenixes born with an understanding for Equish?” he asked as he opened the case, and pulled out the instrument.
The chick just watched with intense fascination.
Vital Spark raised the violin and its bow, grateful he’d practiced holding multiple objects at once in his magical grip, before he began to play. Rather than follow any rhythm or melody, he just ran over the strings, trying to come up with something reminiscent of the new life that hovered next to him. He began with a few basic plucks of the strings, a sharp staccato in memory of the bird’s cheep. First it came slowly, uncertain. Then it became more cohesive, faster, sharper, rising higher, than lower. Finally, he put the bow to the strings, racing over them in a playful melody that soon layered with mingled chords and harmonies he never could manage with his human fingers. He thought to the Bird of Paradise, and the feelings that emanated from her in her presence. If the chick really was her child, at least spiritually speaking, then the chick deserved to get at least a taste of it. As the music continued to play, the markings began to light up, and the frost glittered as they refracted from the violin.
“An echo of an echo of the beauty your mothers represent, but I hope you enjoy it.” Vital continued to play as he let the image of the great phoenix he’d seen in the valley in Neighpon, and the memory of the Bird of Paradise both blended into the song, singing the cold beauty of winter in the pure white snow, of icicles refracting sunlight to dance across cavern walls, of the warmth from a mother’s love. And then he shifted to something new. It was clumsy, clutzy even as he jumped from string to string, eeking various notes, before coming to a more solid footing, holding an open D as he pulled the bow back and forth, before turning it into a deep, thrumming chord, then wheeled off into a celtic jig, laughing as he spun and danced to the tune. Well … more like skipped and jumped, while struggling to maintain his footing, but he managed it.
The chick, for her part, seemed spellbound by the music
And that was when the door burst open in a gust of wind as Grif broke through with Pensword clinging to the Gryphon’s neck.
“What?” the Pegasus asked dazedly. “We … the corridors…. Did I see Sugar Cube Corner for a second?”
Grif was more distracted as he eyed the chick on the desk. “It hatched?” he asked.
“And I’m guessing Caring Circlet alerted you to a sudden drop in temperature in my room that had you rushing over here,” Vital surmised. “Yeah. The runes failed when she broke out of her shell. By the way, try to avoid breaking them further. I’d like to collect the fragments for study and use later.” He looked sadly at the bird. “I still don’t know what to name her. I know I want it to be musical. She clearly loves that. I’m just not sure what fits.”
Grif let out a few experimental warbles, and was answered by a few more cheeps. “She definitely likes you,” he chuckled.
“Well, I guess that’s a comfort, at least.”
“Phoenix is tricky, but i think it’s safe to say she’s imprinted on you.”
“Well, she is a cute little thing,” Vital said as a smile pulled at the corners of his mouth, and he walked over to rub his hoof gently under the chick’s beak. “Though I suppose now would be a good time to get some food for her. Grif, would you mind grabbing that book on cryophoenixes over there for me?”
Pensword shook his head as he slowly became aware of his surroundings. “That…” He blinked, and shuddered. “Oh my. It hatched. And before you say anything, Vital, I am still disoriented from being carried by Grif at mach one.”
Grif chuckled as he handed Vital Spark the book in question.
He pulled open the book, and flipped the pages with his magic. “Well … looks like we may have to break into your stores of meat, Grif. Phoenixes appear to be carnivorous. And cryophoenixes like their food cold.”
“So frozen meat.” Grif nodded. “I’ll see what we have.” And then he was gone.
“Make sure it’s partially defrosted!” Vital called after him. “They eat their prey just after they succumb to hypothermia!”
Pensword paused and looked around somewhat uncomfortably, after that outburst. “Uh … see you, Vital. I guess I’ll run around the deck again.” He walked out of the room. As he did so, Vital just caught the glint of the weights on the Pony’s legs.
Grif returned a few minutes later with some frozen venison.
“I guess that should work for now. We’ll have to move her up to something with proper bones eventually, but this should hopefully work for a start. Thanks, Grif.”
“I’ll make sure some is kept frozen for you at all times. Just look after her. You’ve got a rare beast, and I’m pretty sure Newt Scamander wouldn’t forgive us, if something happened to her.” He fixed the pair with a playful wink, then left.
The chick let out an inquisitive cheep, and Vital sighed.
“It’s a long story. Like seven books long.”
“Or eight movies,” Cheshire said suddenly.
Vital’s scream echoed through the halls, followed by Cheshire’s familiar laughter.
“So, you doing okay?” Grif asked his lord as he took another slurp of coffee. The two sat in the meeting room near the Gantrithor’s imperial quarters at the the large table.
“As okay as I can be. Yeah,” Hammer Strike shrugged. “The list of embodiments keep growing. Not too sure if it’s a plus.”
“Too early to tell, I guess. So, Pensword talked to you yet?”
“I’ve been a bit busy, so no. What’s up?”
“Oh, I’m putting him through an accelerated physical training program, doing seventeen years worth of work in the next few months. I figure it’ll either kill him or get him somewhere around up to par,” Grif said casually as he took another hit of coffee.
Hammer Strike stared at Grif for a moment, before sighing. “As long as we avoid the killing part, then all right.”
“That’ll be up to him. He’s got things he’s going to need to protect. Things need to change, and quickly.”
“We’ve all warned him. He’s listened partially. If you can get it done, then good job,” Hammer Strike shrugged.
“He thinks he’s going to get you to spar with him,” Grif chuckled. “I tried to tell him that even holding back, you’d probably end up breaking his torso, but he’s still going to ask.”
“Then let him take the consequences that follow.”
“Just remember: don’t do anything that’ll take longer than a week to heal. We’ve got a lot of work to do,” Grif noted. “And there’s someone way too precious on the line to screw it up.” Grif proceeded to tell Hammer Strike his prophecy, and his suspicions regarding what it meant.
Hammer Strike groaned. “Grif, I’ve got it. I’ll try not to kill him.”
“Whatever you saw must have been bad,” Grif said as he rose onto his hind legs, and folded his arms to lean against a wall. “This is the moodiest I’ve seen you in a while.”
“I’ve seen the time and date I’m supposed to die. Following that up with something worse was a miracle on its own.” Hammer Strike sighed. “And ever since I saw it, I’ve been visited by the trio of Fate, and this everlasting feeling of something watching me, constantly observing me. And I can’t see it.”
“Well tell them where to go, and how to get there for me. I really don’t care who they are. My future isn’t written yet,” Grif growled. “Still, if you need to talk, you know I’m here.”
“Fate despises us for this reason. But what do you count for our future that’s in the past? That’s what I question, for certain things seem to be unavoidable without making massive changes.”
“History is written mostly through conjecture and the ideas of fools.” Grif shrugged. “There might be some things regarding the future there, but until we know the details, I’d say it’s still relatively up to us to determine how things went. Context changes a situation.”
“Correct enough,” Hammer Strike conceded as he glanced over his shoulder for a second. “It’s all what-ifs, and other things.”
“Then the best idea is to do your best to meet what's to come on your terms. And if you can’t do that, then make sure power rests in no one's hands. No matter how bad things get, you can always find spider holes.”
Hammer Strike gave a faint chuckle. “How little we understand these events to come, though we march forward, down the line to what could be a bitter end.”
Grif scratched his ear as he looked at the Earth Pony. “Well, that was … something,” he noted.
Hammer Strike shrugged. “That’s life, you know?”
“I’ll drink to that.” Grif chuckled as he finished his coffee. “Well, I need to go beat on my new piñata some more. I’ll talk to you later, okay?”
“Have fun.”
“Now Trixie, I don’t know how she’s going to react to you. She’s just a baby right now, after all, so take it easy with her, all right?” Vital asked worriedly as he stood before the door to his quarters. Trixie stood at his side, looking impatiently over his shoulder at the icy seal he’d formed over the door as an added measure of protection.
“Trixie is sure she will spellbind the majestic beast with her own majesty!” Trixie told him.
“That, and you want to be able to claim you’ve seen a real live cryophoenix before Twilight did,” Vital deadpanned.
“Trixie had never even considered that,” Trixie said, shocked.
“You didn’t? Well then, Trixie, either something is very wrong with you, or you’re really making an important change.” Vital chuckled as he lowered the warding, causing the ice to dispel as he opened the door, and walked in. The chick was busy exploring around its nest on the desk, pecking at some frozen meat occasionally as it messed around with various mechanisms Caring Circlet had suggested to keep her occupied.
“She is quite a sight,” Trixie said as she moved to get a closer look. A light layer of frost had covered the chick’s down, making her glitter slightly in the light.
“All the beauty of a first winter’s snow,” Vital said as he walked next to Trixie to watch the chick as she looked up from her current play thing, a weighted balance beam that she could nudge up or down with her beak. “Still not sure what to name her, though.” He sighed. “I don’t want to make it stereotypical, but I want to make it really match her, and what she’ll be one day, you know? Or at least what she could be.”
“You have no ideas at all?” Trixie asked.
“Well, Snow was a possibility that came to mind, but that’s a bit too … on the nose for me. I was thinking something musical, since she seems to like music so much, but I don’t know what would really fit her or her personality. It hasn’t exactly developed yet, you know?”
“Sonata?” Trixie offered.
Vital shook his head. “Too auto. And no, I won’t be elaborating on what auto means in this case. That has to do with the humans, and I kinda need to keep quiet about that side of things for now.”
“Borea?” Trixie offered.
“After the god of winds? Not sure that’d fit in this case, especially since Grif has four deities who happen to already hold that role.”
“Trixie was thinking more of the northern lights,” Trixie clarified
“Possible, but it doesn’t feel right.” He sighed. “Like I said, I really get the feeling it has to be musical. I kind of have a thing for picking names. You could say it’s one of my main talents, aside from the whole magic cutie mark thing.” He chuckled nervously. “Though I wouldn’t say I’m quite so skilled as everypony else.”
The chick hopped up to the edge of the desk, and started to cheep as she flapped her tiny wings, and hopped excitedly. Vital couldn’t help but chuckle as he lowered his muzzle to nuzzle against her little head, before levitating a dulled hook in his magic to start preening the chick’s feathers. “Would you like to try?” he asked as he motioned towards the tool.
“Trixie isn’t sure she’s ready to try something so delicate yet,” the Unicorn said as she took a hesitant step back.
“If you’re not comfortable, I won’t push you,” Vital said. “Do you at least want to pet her?”
“I won’t break her?” she asked.
“I meant with your hoof, silly.” He chuckled. “All it takes is a gentle touch. Well, that, and being ready for a bit of a chill. The cold is her element, after all. Here. Let me help you.” He reached over, and grabbed Trixie’s hoof, pulling it towards the chick. “This is Trixie, my….” He blushed. “My girlfriend. Well, marefriend, I suppose.” Then he laid the hoof beneath the beak, before turning to Trixie. “Now you just have to rub gently down her feathers, like this.”
Trixie flushed as she gently rubbed her hoof. “She’s so soft.”
“It’s not too cold, is it?” Vital asked, concerned.
Trixie shook her head.
“And … we’re not … too close?” he asked quietly.
“Why … why would we be too close? Unless you think it’s too close?” Trixie asked a bit nervously.
“No … I think it’s just–.” His nostrils flared, and he shuddered briefly. Then he leaned in and placed his lips on hers for a moment, before pulling away. “–Just right.”
“Trixie couldn’t agree more.” She pulled him back into a kiss, a longer one this time.
A sharp trilling filled the air, followed by the rising and falling cadence of a warbling cry that slowly turned into the whistling cheep most songbirds are known for. In a matter of seconds, the melody rose up to a high staccato trill that jumped from variation to variation. Vital’s eyes widened as he broke off from the kiss. “I know that song!” He watched as the chick spread its wings, and its tiny chest rose and fell rapidly as the air flowed continuously from its beak. “That’s Queen of the Night, an aria from one of the most famous operas ever composed on Earth.”
The hatchling broke of its melody, and looked at him as it cocked its head.
“... Was it something I said?” Vital asked.
“Maybe it has something to do with the song and her name?” Trixie suggested.
“Queen? Night?” The bird let out a shrill tweet of protest both times, and Vital winced. “Definitely not.”
“Well, if you said her name had to be musical, then … Aria?”
The chick immediately hopped over to Trixie, and tweeted excitedly as it jumped up and down.
“... I’ll take that as a yes,” Vital said.
Trixie chuckled as the chick jumped into her mane. “I’ll say.”
“Still too slow,” Grif said as his training sword slammed into Pensword’s side, sending the stallion’s body skidding. “But you are getting the hang of reading my movements, at least.”
A grunt was the only answer Grif got as he felt the scratch from one of Pensword’s blades. against his leg. The stallion rolled up, and smirked. Grif was already halfway to the other side of the room.
“You battle with your speed and smarts,” Pensword said as he took a steadying breath. “I fight with my wits. In real life, you’d be poisoned right now,” he said as he pointed to the dye running down the side of his practice sword. “I am giving this my all. This is no fight of honor, no duel. This is war.” He kept up his momentum, never taking his eyes off the Gryphon, even as their fight brought on a pair of very interested spectators. Day Moon and Bellacosa both cheered excitedly from the sidelines.
“The enemy you’re training to fight won’t die by poison.” And suddenly Grif was on Pensword’s far side. Three savage strikes sent the Pony skidding on his side this time. “It’s killing blow or death. You still lose.”
Pensword snorted as he rolled back up, still sore, but showing his body was recovering faster. “Not just any poison,” he snapped. “Moonfang tears.” He spoke as Grif found strikes and paint where his tendons were on all four legs. “I rather not make you immobile. You can fly, but you just lost use of your ‘host’s’ limbs.” He spat as he fired toy barbed arrows that stuck at the wing joints. His eyes narrowed. “You.” he stopped, and starting coughing. Clear liquid spewed from his mouth as he heaved on the deck. “I … I think I’m done for the day,” he wheezed between bouts.
“I'll give you an hour,” Grif said gruffly. “You still owe me time.”
Pensword heaved up more water.
Day Moon shivered and looked over to Bellacosa with a gulp. “Why are you smiling, Cosy? Grif’s trying to kill my second dad.”
“If he were trying to kill him, he’d have done it yesterday, Day Moon. You don’t even know how lucky you are. You're going to be taught by one of the greatest warriors of two eras. I’m so jealous of you”
“Cosy,” Day Moon began, twitching his bat wings, “I’m scared how he would treat me. My dad asked for extra help, and … they both seem like they’re fighting for the kill. I don’t know if I could survive. I saw Grif strike my dad with at least two lethal blows today, and my dad rolls up like it was a heavy hit.”
“Sometimes a lethal blow is unavoidable. The most important thing is making it not instantly lethal, and lasting long enough to kill the threat. Back …. Back during Sombra’s rebellion, Grif took a blade in the chest. He was run right through. He never staggered for more than a second. Blood flowed from him in rivers, and he pushed on to make sure he ended the threat, to protect us.”
Day Moon just nodded hesitantly. “Are … are you jealous about this? I mean, didn't Uncle Pensword teach you things already?”
“They’ve all shown me things, but Cady won’t let me actually learn anything warlike until I’m older.” Bellacosa sighed. “Sometimes, I think she just wants to keep me a foal forever. She wasn’t the only one who had to deal with a war, you know.”
“And when you’re older? Who will you ask to teach you then?”
“I honestly don’t know.” Bellacosa shrugged.
“Well, I guess we wait to see the rest of the training?” Day Moon whispered as they watched Pensword mop up his mess with a sponge. His muscles shook from his exertions, and his wings twitched from the adrenaline coursing through his system. Day Moon frowned at the sight.
“He’ll be okay,” Cosy assured him. “Your dad’s too tough to lay down and die.”
“Yeah, I guess he is,” Day Moon said as a hint of a smile pulled at his lips.
An hour later, Pensword stood ready for Grif to enter the ring again, while the foals snacked on dried seaweed. He just hoped Hammer Strike wouldn’t show up to join. In his current state, there wasn’t a chance of lasting ten seconds, let alone ten minutes.
“You stare any intenser at that doorway, and you're going to turn it to stone,” Grifs voice filtered into Pensword’s ear. Pensword whipped around to strike him, but Grif dodged nimbly, before landing a blow on the Pegasus’ side.
Grif soon found that he’d only succeeded in knocking a feather loose as Pensword jerked away from the strike at the last second. He pulled up and around, while Grif blurred out of sight to appear high in the air, ready to strike again. Grif found his beak struck by the flat edge of Pensword’s blade, causing a cut where beak met flesh. Pensword landed with a gash on his left flank as the thaumic field pushed Grif’s claw away from Pensword’s cutie mark. Pensword’s wound was larger, and slightly deeper. The commander experimented, testing how much pain it would cause to support his weight with the cut. When he confirmed it was safe, he quickly whipped around and bucked the Gryphon, only to collide with thin air. Grif blurred back into existence in front of the warrior, and brought the hilt of his blade down sharply on Pensword’s muzzle. Nothing broke, but both combatants knew Pensword would be bruising there for some time. Pensword reacted instinctively, using his wings to pull off a head stand atop the hilt, before bringing his forehooves crashing down. Grif used Pensword’s altered sense of balance to push forward, only to suddenly feel the Pony’s rear hooves slamming onto his back. Seconds later, he felt the harsh embrace of a warrior fighting for his life as Pensword wrapped his forehooves around Grif’s neck.
A blurred second later, Pensword was out like a light, slammed against a wall. Grif rubbed his neck where the Pony had managed to get a grip. It had been close was close, but neither Pensword nor Grif could or would count that as a win. An admirable effort, but not quite enough for the Gryphon to count as a killing blow.
“I’ll have someone take you to your room,” he said to the limp form. “Rest for now, Pensword. Tomorrow, it gets harder.”
Day Moon furrowed his brow. “Why does it look like he’s still fighting Grif?” he asked as Pensword’s body began to twitch.
“Probably dreaming about it,” Bellacosa noted.
Pensword snapped awake with a jerk as he shook his head. “What happened?” he asked, looking around with wide eyes. He sighed as he saw his friend staring down at him, and sagged. “Dang it,” he muttered, “I almost had it.” He got up, heedless of the damage he’d taken, and assumed a battle stance. “Again,” he said.
Grif shook his head. “You’re done for the day, Pensword. Take the rest of the night. Prepare for tomorrow. I’ll be holding back less,” Grif promised.
“Of course.” Pensword paused as he pulled a slip of paper out from his armor. It had Luna’s cutie mark. “Some information about what we might face,” he spoke in Dragonic as he handed it to his friend. Instead of resting, he moved to another part of the deck, and sat down. Grif could feel him manipulating the thaumic field around his wings. “Please, treat my children to some deserts in the mess hall for how well behaved they were during training. I would do it myself, but I need to rest here for a while, first.”
“Don’t stay out too long,” Grif cautioned as he slipped the paper beneath his armor. “Come on, guys,” he called to the youngsters, who followed him out, though they couldn’t help but shoot a few worried looks Pensword’s way.
Pensword sat contemplating as he worked on manipulating the flow of his thaumic field up one wing and down the other. As he did so, tiny crystals formed between his feathers, before disappearing just as quickly as they’d come. He breathed deeply as he listened to his mother recounting some of the old stories and relay messages for him from the other side. As he worked to extend his field like a hand, he found, much to his surprise, that he could sense his mother.
“Incoming!” Moon Beam shouted as, even after centuries of being a ghost, motherly instinct drove her to dive in front of her son. Pensword snapped his eyes open, and for the briefest of moments, he “felt” his mother brush his fur as her hoof passed through his head trying to push him down, while her free hoof reached out to block the projectile. It happened so fast, he was rooted to the spot. And yet, despite Moon Beam’s lack of substance, the arrow suddenly arced upwards, altered by the contact with the spirit. The new trajectory caused the arrow to brush by his ear, and he felt it pass by his raised left wing as he rolled to the left.
The Arrow pierced the communications array by the door with a nasty crunch, followed by the fizz and pop of energies as the arcane network continued to channel its current into the station. The crackle of static rang in the air, before it slowly died off.
Pensword was on the alert now. His ears swiveled as he turned every piece of his enhanced senses towards finding the culprit. As he observed the clouds, he noticed one that remained stationary, despite how the rest of the pack had begun to move with the wind. He growled as he slammed his helmet back on, and donned the first of his wing blades, counting the seconds down, both for the reload and for how long it would take Grif to arrive on the scene. He doubted he would have time to kill the assassin if Grif got there, but that arrow had been meant for him. This was his battle.
“You’d better hurry, Son,” his mother whispered. “You’ve unnerved him, but he’s panicked now. He’s trying to string another arrow. Don’t give him the chance.”
“You and I are going to have a talk after this, Mother. I want to know how you did that,” Pensword said as he shed the other set of wing blades, and launched into the air. Time was of the essence. He flew hard and fast, always keeping a bead on the cloud, even as he weaved between the banks to make himself a harder target, just in case the assassin managed to string the second arrow. The abnormal formation dissipated as he drew near, revealing a small airship. He narrowed his eyes as he pulled a string from his suit of armor. Half a second later, his red flare launched, exploding over the vapor, before descending slowly to the deck of the enemy vessel. Three seconds later, Pensword slammed onto the deck as the assassin raised his bow again, and aimed directly at the Pony’s chest. The assailant’s bow began to shake harder as he caught sight of the modified Gryphon bow at Pensword’s side.
“Don’t spare a second. He acted alone.” Moon Beam’s words spurred Pensword to act. He charged forward, ramming into the arms and torso of what he could now tell was a large Mountain Lion-Golden Eagle Gryphon. The jolt of slamming into the Gryphon’s torso rang in his skull, but he smiled in satisfaction as he watched the bow skitter away, then saw the blood seeping out the hole he’d punched through the assassin’s armor with his wing blade. The Gryphon shoved the Pegasus off, causing Pensword to slam into the a nearby mast. The assassin sneered in triumph, before he looked down with wide eyes at the blood seeping from the wound. He lunged, or rather, tried to. Instead, he toppled over his own bow, thanks to the clever placement by Moonbeam.
Pensword didn’t waste his chance. The Gryphon was already dead, but until he lost enough blood, he would still be dangerous. There was only one option. His expression hardened as he brought his wing down on the Gryphon’s neck. Blood spurted from the site as the body shook briefly, before the spasms faded, and the blood ran cold. The assassin was dead.
He turned around to find the airship deck still mysteriously abandoned. He’d already made his way to the stairs when Grif arrived. In the distance, he could just make out the shadows of the approaching mercenaries.
“Are you all right, Pensword?” Grif asked his friend.
Pensword sighed. “I’m all right, Grif,” he muttered. “Just goin–nevermind. Mom just told me only this monster was on board the ship. Seemed he and his crew sailed to this spot, tied to a cloud, and he dismissed the crew.” He growled as he looked at the corpse. “I’m going to look into the Captain's quarters. This creature tried to kill me on deck.”
“Search the body,” Grif ordered as the remaining troops flew in to land on deck with weapons drawn and senses on high alert. “Look for distinguishing symbols or clan markings. I’m pretty sure Daedalus would be happy to have the head of whoever betrayed the Right of Hospitality.” Grif and most of the other Gryphons spat on the body, before the group went to work.
“You’ll find nothing,” Pensword said. “Mom told me he acted alone. I don’t know the full story, but she was clear he acted without sanction, and without backing.” He shifted his left ear to listen. “Okay … motive. He lost everything. This was his last ship. He stole it, lost his fiance, and was to live on the streets tomorrow. He blamed Daedalus bringing the Egg Smasher, the Demon, and the Ghost. And … apparently, he went after the only one he felt could be killed.” He turned to look at Grif. “He was prepared to be hung, but he felt his death for my death would bring prosperity to this part of the empire.” He frowned. “Seems like he went mad with grief.”
“Well then, we can deal with him here and now,” Grif said as he lifted the body up, and sliced off the wings. The assembled Gryphons winced, but said nothing as their leader tossed the body over one side, then the wings over the other.
Pensword looked at the airship. “Get me brown paint!” he ordered as he stalked to the bridge doors. “What will we do with this airship, empty it of anything useful?” He watched as Kahn took off for the Gantrithor.
“We’ll extract the stormstone core. You can take it, if you want. As for the body, we’ll let it crash into the sea,” Grif said.
Pensword frowned. “I guess. But if we do, then at least let me take the log book and all records from the captain's quarters. And….” He winced. “No, Matthew,” he whispered under his breath, “we won’t save the ship,” he finished in Draconic.
He was given a piece of paper, which he used to scrawl a hasty note, before he ordered the paint back to the ship, and took the rest of his children inside the captain’s quarters. After Grif had come back outside from the hold for a bit of fresh air, he found Pensword’s note:
We take the core, and build a new ship from it, like in Stardust. Will name it Commander’s Revenge.
Pensword looked around the bridge and the door leading to the captain’s quarters. “Kahn, my children, take all notes, and anything not bolted down, from the captain's quarters. Today, the Demon gets his prize. The Bladefeathers will get the ship logs and notes about this dishonorable captain.”
“What you do with it is up to you,” Grif said with a shrug as he strolled into the room. “Just let the ship die.”
“Oh, it will die, but we need to get moving first. There’s a lot to take over.”
It took an hour to ferry over the furniture, logs, and papers from the ship. Jacques, one of Pensword’s Gryphon sons, went above and beyond the call of duty, opening the barrels and boxes of the hold to find naught but dust and stale air. It was likely they had been a part of a ruse to justify the assassin’s departure.
Pensword stood on the bow of the Gantrithor as they finished towing the extra airship over the waters. Since they were still in Gryphon Territory, it fell to Grif and the Bladefeathers to handle removing the stormstone core. He smiled at the thought of the scandal that would arise when Gryphonia learned Pensword had not one, but two stormstone cores under his command.
A few hours later, Grif and Pensword sat on the deck, watching as the assailant’s airship fell to the ocean below. Grif handed Pensword a large velvet bag gingerly, and the Pegasus could just make out the spherical shape within the confines. “Here.”
Pensword nodded his thanks. “I shall place it in my wall safe personally. May I?” he asked. Even a Thousand years ago, he’d heard rumors of the legendary cores, and now here, in his very hooves, he held the artifact Equestrian scientists and nobles alike had been lusting after for millennia. “I feel like how the Brits must have, when they captured an intact enigma machine.”
“Before you do handle that thing, let me say my piece.” Grif’s face hardened as he glared at the Pegasus and the pouch he now held between his hooves. “You're loyal to Equestria, Pensword, which is a great trait, but it also makes this all the more urgent for me to discuss. What you now hold in your hooves, Ponykind has been trying to barter from my people for millennia. Twilight would probably pay a fortune to study it for a single night. Celestia would pay a queen’s ransom for it. Stewardship of these cores has been my people’s one undeniable superiority. I hope you understand the trust I’m putting in you by giving this to you.”
“I understand.” Pensword watched the dead ship as the waves lashed over it. The ocean would have her way with the toy, for none were there to guide it aright, nor keep it afloat. “Matthew weeps at the sight below. But know that if it gets to the point where the core becomes too hot, so to speak, I will transfer its possession to Kahn or another of my Gryphon children.” He opened the bag’s drawstrings slowly with his teeth, then used his wings and hooves to pull the core out gently as he cradled it. The velvet hung limply in his teeth as he looked over the artifact. The core was definitely an orb, but not the smooth thing he had come to expect. Its pitch-black surface rippled like the waves of the sea or the arms of a hurricane. Veins of electricity seemed to pop in and out of existence within the orb’s confines, the light rising to shine, only to vanish a moment later in the inky blackness. It vibrated slightly in his hooves, giving off the feeling of power waiting to be tapped.
Pensword stared, wide-eyed at the orb. He hadn’t been sure what to expect. Everything from a rock the size of a hoof to the size of small houses had been conceived by the greatest scholars of Unicorn and Pegasus origin. Some even posited the theory that the storm core was an invention, and not magical in nature at all. Now Pensword knew better. With this much power between his hooves, he could build something truly great, like the Queen Mary, and cause it to fly. It was truly astounding to think something so small could do so much. He looked to Grif. “You’re okay with my plan, then, and using the new ship to harvest lightning?”
“It’s whatever you want, Pensword. Just remember that there are limits to the size these cores can float. You won’t get something like the Revelryout of a core that size, but you should be able to make a pretty large ship.”
“We shall see. We shall see.” He shuddered. “You know, it almost feels alive.” He laughed. “Also, Matthew and I just realized something. The Caspartine was a blimp ship. Equestria can build her already. That means we’re back to the drawing board for a design.”
“Just make sure to keep it hidden for now,” Grif noted. “Wouldn’t want it to walk off.”
“Like I said. My quarters are safe. Caring Circlet walked me through picking my own code for the safe, and only Lunar Fang and I know the combination.” He carefully maneuvered the orb back into the sack, before cinching it up again. “And this is my war prize. Neither Celestia, Luna, nor even Twilight can study or touch it without my say so.”
“Good.” Grif nodded grimly, then let a hint of a smile break through the mask. “Enjoy it, Pensword.”
“Oh, I shall, Grif. I shall,” Pensword promised.
Vital Spark panted as he ran through yet another set of pushups. The heavy weights Grif had placed on his back had quickly turned what had once been an enjoyable activity into grueling labor. The Unicorn couldn’t help but chuckle as he pictured Black Rook in the back of his mind, saying, “Welcome to the real military program.” Fortunately, the Gantrithor’s movement over the cool ocean provided a brisk breeze to keep him relatively regulated, rather than risking overheating.
“If it doesn’t hurt, it doesn’t mean anything,” Grif chuckled as he approached.
“You want me to try a Bulk Biceps yell?” Vital quipped as he struggled not to laugh. Breathing was key in any major physical exercise, after all.
“You're not there yet. Bulk earned that yell. Still, you’re doing okay on the physical front.”
“Still got a ways to go before I’m properly combat ready, though, don’t I?” he grunted as he worked through a particularly nasty lift. His forelegs shook as he struggled to maintain his form.
“You’re training to learn to keep back, and only have to fight if it’s unavoidable. The mage is always in the back, remember?” Grif chuckled.
“Except when they master Tsunade’s technique?” Vital joked.
“You're not gonna end up doing that,” Grif laughed. “And she was a medic, not a mage.”
“Potato potato,” Vital said as his smile widened. “Still want to be able to fight, if I need to.”
“You’ll get there.”
“Though speaking of, what’s next in this program, now that you’re pushing me forward? Do I still do the run around the deck, is there some new twist, or is it more of the same with dedication to hone my body?”
“Well, for starters, you're going to start doing the whole morning run with Rook,” Grif chuckled. “We’re going to be increasing your push-ups and such, as well as adding several other exercises that you should be able to handle.”
“Um, Grif, I already get up for the runs. I just haven’t been able to go as far as the others yet. Though, I guess you’re saying now I can?” the Unicorn asked as he rose back to all fours, and let the cool wind blow through his mane.
“I’m saying the choice as to if you can or not isn’t there anymore. You’re going to.”
“Vital cracked his neck as he rolled it around his shoulders. “Say, Grif, can I borrow your shades for a second?”
“Sure?” Grif offered him the sunglasses, confused.
Vital smirked as he put them on his nose, then grinned at his friend as he rose onto his hind legs, and folded his forelegs dramatically. “Challenge accepted.”
“You don’t have enough badass points for that yet,” Grif chuckled as he retrieved the shades. “Listen, Vital. When we get to Monkeygascar, don’t mention the story, unless he does first, okay?”
“Mind if I ask why?”
“It’s a sore point on a being you don’t want to get angry. Hell, I’m not even sure Hammer Strike would want him angry.”
“That bad?”
“You’ve seen what Vigilanceand Vengeancecan cut through. I hit him once in the entire fight, and I didn’t even scratch him.”
“I meant more the reaction to my knowledge of his history,” Vital noted, “but that’s good to know, too.”
“It’s not as cut and dry, but I think you’d suspected that. He came here to escape everything. He left his own universe to get away from everything he’s been through. Naturally, he doesn’t talk about it freely, or with just anyone.”
“Indeed.”
“You nervous?”
“In truth, I’m not sure. Part of me has faith your bond with him will be enough to pacify him, but … the other part is terrified of what’ll happen if it’s not. Then again, Melody said this had to happen, and she told us each about a future we have to prepare for after this, so that means we should make it through this, right?”
“Just keep that second part in mind. Remember, Wukong’s not one for being stopped by anything.”
“Who said anything about trying to stop him?”
“I meant destiny or fate or whatever. If he gets too mad, I don’t think even the prophecy would be able to stop him.”
Vital rose to his hind hooves, and laid his right hoof over his heart. “Grif, I promise I won’t do anything to upset him or try to push him to conform to some sort of preset destiny. Will that put your mind at ease?”
“No, but it will help.” Grif chuckled dryly. “For better or worse, we’ll be there by tomorrow evening.”
“You think he might want to meet Aria?”
“I don’t see why he wouldn’t. If I recall correctly, phoenixes in Chinese mythology held an even deeper meaning than they did in the west.”
“Just as long as nobody wants to try roasting her, I’ll be happy.”
“Not like they auto-revive if fatly wounded or anything,” Grif chuckled.
“... Fair point. Though that does bring up another point I need to research. I know normal phoenixes burst into flames to renew themselves, but I have no clue how a cryophoenix goes about it.”
“Probably shatter like glass, or something,” Grif shrugged.
“And the rebirthing would probably be something like the water cycle, I guess,” Vital mused. “I’ll have to remember to ask Clover for a reference guide on it later. For now, I’m guessing it’d probably be best for me to get back to work. Wanna watch, maybe give me some pointers?”
“Sure. I have some time,” Grif said as he laid on the deck off to the side. “Let’s see how you do.”
Vital chuckled. “Just make sure I’m well enough to meet our friend after, okay? I don’t want to miss him, just because I’m too sore to move.”
“Oh, trust me. He’ll be impossible to miss.”
Vital sighed resignedly. “Hello, hell day.” Then he chuckled. “So, a lap around the ship?”
“Timer started ten seconds ago,” Grif said with a grin.
“Then I guess it’s time to make Black Rook proud.” And with that, Vital began his run.
Pensword sat alone in the dream realm. Luna had left him there to contemplate and relax. Pensword took the time to meditate. Matthew stood off a ways in a fully human form, save for a pair of tufted pony ears. He knelt, muttering prayers to God, and reciting scripture verses. For a place meant for dreams, the dream realm was surprisingly loud. An odd cacophony of sound echoed around him. The region was bathed in a light grey smoky mist.
Both had spoken with Luna. And while she commended their battle tactics and their prowess, she’d left with a cryptic message. “Find balance within your own minds.”
Pensword sighed, then figured he might as well follow Matthew’s example, and say a prayer or two to Faust. As he did, Matthew began to quiet down as they sat there, his ears twitching. Now their positions were switched. Matthew pondered as Pensword gave utterance. The Pony would have laughed at the scene, had he not been busy praying. His breathing slowed. His mind cleared, and he felt just a glimmer of peace as the common ground was reached yet again.
Then the whispers started, calling out their names. It was faint at first; there, yet not there. The two of them jerked up to look, but the sounds never became closer. Instead, they moved closer to each other. Noticing that the smoky haze around them was dispersing the closer they got to one another, but it also darkened the area outside their immediate personal space.
A shape almost like a wolf was visible for a moment, and then was gone. While Pensword was fine, Matthew was shaking a little. Next came a Gryphon. While Matthew knew what they could do, he wasn’t scared, yet Pensword looked much more alert. Like - “They’re preying on us.”
“You think?” Pensword snapped.
“Well you are unnerved by the Grpyhon, and I’m unnerved by the wolf. How are you able to handle a wolf pack?”
Pensword smiled, even as his eyes continued to scan the changing expanse. Easy. As a Pegasus, you fly up in the air, and use your quiver to take out the wolves, till they back away. If any try to jump at you, you fly up higher.”
“Easy for you,” Matthew countered. “You’ve got wings.”
“So says the human whose race is able to, with a little training, use a bolt action to pump lead down range faster than some of our recruits can notch an arrow.” He found the area of Matthew a little bright. “I have a question for you. How can you–?” Pensword’s voice stuck in his throat.
“How can I not be scared of the Gryphons?” Matthew finished for him. “Because if the Gryphon wanted me dead, I’d be dead before I’d seen him. Also, a Gryphon won’t kill out of cold blood. There are tactics and reason behind their actions, their honor. If you’d let me handle some of your previous interactions with them, I think we could have made some friends outside of Daedalus.”
“But–.”
“But they killed your family, and your home. I know. Why do you think I’m so happy you met my family? Or the fact that you have so many in the Dream Clan that bear some part of your family or village names and honor? That incident happened over thousand years ago by today’s reckoning. Was it wrong? Yes. But so is holding onto it, and refusing to judge today’s Gryphons by their actions. It’s as silly as the feud between the Brits and the French. You know what they have now? A tunnel under the only real defense they had against one another, sharing traffic and transportation.” Matthew held up a hand. “I know it hurts. The hurt will never leave. But you cannot let that consume you.”
Pensword snapped. “Oh. And you think you know what it–.”
“My Grandmother’s cousin was held prisoner by the Japanese during World War Two. He was six-foot-two, and got down to ninety-two pounds, went in Batan, and then got shipped to Japan as a bargaining chip.” Matthew’s face darkened as he stared Pensword down with the coolest expression he could manage. “You know what he did after the war, Pensword? He helped ship materials, and aided in the reconstruction of the Japanese islands. He stayed there for the rest of his life, helping to rebuild, only returning home to be buried.”
Pensword paused. He had gleaned the horrors Earth’s second world war, yet here Matthew was, showing a sensitive part of his own family’s history. He paused as he sat down to think.
“It’s like Luna said, Pensword. We need balance. The only way we can do that is if we get our collective mental house in order.”
Pensword sighed. “I guess. This is going to be hard, though.”
“Of course it’s going to be hard. The right course almost always is.”
At that moment, they found themselves pulled into a wing hug by a giant Luna. “My little Ponies, my little commanders,” she added with a grin. “Congratulations. You have passed the test. Now tell me, in the end, were you thinking about the nightmare?”
It was here Matthew face palmed. “Rabbits,” he muttered.
“Excuse me?” Pensword began. Then his eyes widened in understanding as Matthew broadcast an image of a series of bunny hutches, some empty, some full. “Oh. The rabbits! We were counting how many blocks were in a wall, so we wouldn’t think about the rabbits burrowing.”
“Exactly,” Luna replied. “Balance. You see, when you face a nightmare’s first attempts, by ignoring it, getting into a discussion like you did, you drew attention away from it. This, in turn, draws power and control away from the creature into your own hooves and hands, because your discussion ensures you retain solid control over your dream plane. That is a massive tactic some hunters never learned when hunting the dark. They focused so much on destroying the darkness that it eventually swallowed them whole, and they were lost.”
She smiled as she let go of her hug to reveal a foal Pensword and a child Matthew dressed in a captain’s uniform. “Now, let us work on using your memories and dreams for more defenses. However, first, you have a question for … yes, Matthew? What is it?”
“Why do I have tuft ears?”
“My dear little human.” she chuckled lovingly. “The truth is you’ve spent so much time as a Pony that you’re starting to act like one, to think like one. Those ears are showing you cannot fathom or contemplate not having Pony hearing. It has become too natural for you.” She bowed her head. “I’m sorry to say that my sister and I are still working on–.”
“No sad face,” Matthew interrupted. “You’re working as hard as you can. Science is advancing, and pushing the envelope.” He shrugged. “Sometimes, it won’t have a breakthrough for what you desire in the time you want. I resigned myself to that a long time ago.”
“Ah, but no losing hope, my little human,” Luna retorted as she placed a wing beneath his chin. “We will succeed eventually. We’ll find a way to have you on two feet again, at which point we can get a similar form for your wives. I might even try this … human look myself once.”
Matthew couldn’t help but smirk at the thought.
“Ah, and there it is. Another tactic to use is distraction. Joy, laughter, humor. Nightmares hate positive emotion. It is distasteful to them, and weakens their hold on the psyche.”
Matthew and Pensword weren’t sure if she was being silly or serious. It was strange seeing the Princess of the Night this … intimate with her subjects or guests. Still, they both came to the same realization. For them to fight the Nightmares, one would have to be open with the other. The rest of the night would be certainly be interesting, especially considering how Luna promptly shoved them both to the ground, and giggles as she took the air, proclaiming them to be it in their new game of tag. The two chuckled to themselves. Both knew what they’d be doing with the foals when they woke up tomorrow.
Grif held up the spyglass, and surveyed the area ahead of them. Monkeygascar stood proud over the horizon, like an overlord on his throne. The breeze had shifted, bringing in a headwind from the island, and carrying the heavenly scent of peach blossoms to the ship. If all went well, they’d be there within the next two hours at the current speed, which was hopefully a fast, yet non-aggressive pace. Grif knew Wukong had likely already seen the ship on the horizon. Whether he’d identify it as their ship was still unknown. The Monkey King both frightened and fascinated Grif. A primal being of power unlike any he knew in Equestria, capable of things few could imagine.
“I’ve had the crew looking through the ship’s goods. Hopefully, we’ll have a suitable gift ready for when we land. Let Avalon and me disembark first, followed by Pensword and Bellacosa. Hammer Strike, you’ll have to come when I signal, then the rest of you. Is everyone clear on this?” Grif asked as he eyed them all intently.
“Sounds good to me,” Hammer Strike commented.
“I understand that. But I cannot keep Moon River fully contained,” Pensword pointed out. “Also, I hope he likes being called a godfather.”
“I’ll do whatever you think is best, Grif. You know him better than any of us,” Vital said.
“Let's hope so,” Grif said fervently. “We’re too close for it to matter either way. Remember to play to his ego. It may save our lives in the end. Tell him he’s smart, or handsome, or whatever it takes to keep him happy.”
“... You know I won’t lie, Grif,” Vital said pointedly.
“Yeah. Lets hope you won’t have to. Wear the nicest things you’ve got, something that shows respect. I guess I’ll call you all up here when we get closer in. Just be ready. I don’t know if we’ll have monkeys randomly landing to check who it is.”
“What’s supposed to keep Wukong from just jumping all the way over here onto the ship?” Vital asked.
Pensword facehoofed, and tensed at the words. “Vital … I hate you,” he hissed.
“You know, if you wanted to surprise me, you probably shouldn’t have flown such a large ship from the north end of the island,” a voice spoke suddenly as the door opened, and an all too familiar figure walked inside casually. “It’s good to see you, my brothers,” he said as he walked up and embraced Bellacosa, and then Pensword just above the hoof, and firmly on the shoulder. He proceeded to hug Avalon. “And you, Sister.”
“Well now, this was certainly unexpected. I didn’t know you could fly, Wukong,” Avalon said with a laugh, returning the embrace. “We had someone we wanted you to meet,” she said with a mischievous smile. “Care to take a guess who?”
“You two have had a child.” He looked at Grif with a smile. “Congratulations from the depths of my heart.” The Monkey King released Avalon, and moved to Grif, grabbing the Gryphon’s wrist as Grif returned the gesture. “But my home is not a tourist attraction, Brother.” Wukong’s face turned serious as he spoke, his eyes darting to the other occupants of the cabin.
“Uh, well, Brother, I thought since our last meeting, I wanted to extend the incredible honor I had meeting you to my own lord. May I present Lord Hammer Strike of Equestria.” Grif swept his hand towards the Pony in question. “And, of course, I wouldn’t want to leave out the rest of my family, as well as a close boon companion, and the lady who currently has his heart. I hope you can forgive my impertinence.”
Wukong stared at him impassively for a moment, then scanned the others mentioned, locking eyes with Hammer Strike. For a brief instance, Wukong’s eyes blazed red.
“... ‘Sup?” Hammer Strike commented, almost questioningly.
Wukong released Grif, and moved slowly to the Earth Pony. He gave Hammer Strike a weak punch in the shoulder, and then a stronger one, and then a stronger one. The last felt to Hammer Strike like he’d been struck by a car, but the Monkey King seemed more impressed by the fact he hadn’t budged. “You are very strong, my friend.” The Monkey King grinned. “I suppose it cannot hurt to have a few more souls in my confidence. I would welcome you to Monkeygascar, but we aren't on the island yet.”
“Uh ... thank you,” Hammer Strike replied as he remained stationary. While he was good at hiding it on the outside, he was, indeed, in pain.
Wukong nodded, before turning to Pensword, only to be met with a suction cup arrow to the forehead. The room went silent.
“She …. was …. In …. her …. room,” Pensword stuttered, “with the door locked.”
Wukong traced the trajectory of the arrow silently, following it to a point near the far wall, where a familiar foal was hiding below a control panel. He carefully picked her up, took the arrow off his forehead, and placed it back to on the makeshift quiver on her back. “You're a very good shot, little one.” He tickled her belly. “But best stick to smaller prey for now.”
Moon River pouted, holding her crossbow in her hooves.
“She’s going to try hitting you again. Those words only encourage her. And half the home compound encourages it. The other half are working to dissuade her as best they can,” Grif coughed.
“Nonsense,” Wukong laughed. “Such spirit in children should be encouraged. It promotes strength, and discourages helplessness. One day, she shall be a terror.” He handed Moon River to Pensword.
Pensword took Moon River into his hooves, only for Wukong to find a suction cup dart stuck to his wrist, and for Moon River to start giggling again. “What did I tell you about hitting the Pony or being helping you?”
“Don’t,” Moon River replied, looking nervous, before Pensword leaned his muzzle in to nuzzle her belly, and give her a raspberry.
“Having children is a blessing you mortals should always cherish. It is one of the few things I can always envy,” Wukong said with a sigh.
“Then it’s a good thing I’m along for the ride,” Fox Feather said as she stepped onto the bridge. A Fox pelt coated her body, but nothing more. “I, Fox Feather, second bride to Commander Pensword, do humbly ask the honor of having you be godfather to my foal. He or she will be born in ten months’ time.”
Wukong actually seemed shocked for a few minutes as he processed this information. “You would ask me, Sun Wukong, the one who fought against heaven, to be the godfather to your child?”
She gave a mischievous grin that fit her name. “Moon River calls Grif her godfather, and he is the Avatar of the Winds. I’ve seen these three fight against odds and fate itself, so why not ask one who is kind, who cares for for his own, and has done the same? I see the kindness in your eyes. You’ve seen war, witnessed death, perhaps even caused it. But you also seem to cherish that life. That much is evident with how you treated Moon River. I was informed of your existence only last night to give me time to learn how best to act around you.”
“You speak with wisdom for one so young. And yet, I fear you misjudge my character. Still, I suppose it would do me little harm to accept this honor, and to mark it.” Carefully, Wukong placed a finger on Fox Feather’s stomach region. He traced it across the fur as gently as he could, performing several magic passes, while muttering in Chinese. “A blessing from me to your child. Fitting from a godly godfather, no?” He laughed at his own joke. “A spell to protect the child while you carry him, to ease the birth, and to protect from complications.”
Fox Feather looked at Pensword giddily, though that soon changed to one of surprise as she and Pensword both gaped back at Wukong. “Him?” they cried simultaneously.
Pensword sat down hard. “Well, that’s one surprise gone.” He chuckled happily. “But if that is the price for Fox Feather’s request, then what can I say against it?” He smiled, grateful to the Monkey for his blessing, and for not getting too upset at Fox Feather’s boldness.
Wukong gave them both a pat on the head, and turned to the Unicorn duo nearby. “And you are Brother Grif’s boon companion, a friend for life, yes?” Wukong asked.
“That’s right, though I’d never heard it called a boon companion before.” Vital Spark furrowed his brow, then extended a hoof nervously. “The name’s Vital Spark.”
“And what is so vital about your spark?” Wukong chuckled, tapping Vital’s horn. “Unicorns. You remind me of the gods, but are you like the Jade Emperor, who hauls himself up in his palace, and lords over the mortals, or are you like young Nehza, the one who humbled himself when I defeated him?”
Vital pondered that for a while, tapping his chin a few times, before finally opening his mouth to speak. “I’d like to say humble, but that might be too boastful to say in the first place, making me sound more like the Jade Emperor. I’m certainly not the kind of person to lord over others, except maybe when I’m teasing them, and I usually keep it to good fun, never pushing beyond a set boundary. I suppose the only answer I can give is that I’m me. I try to be the best I can be, and–.”
“And now you remind me of Tripitaka. Always with the speeches, always debating the necessity and saintliness of every action in regards to the Bhuddha,” Wukong said, but his stern look melted into a sad smile. “I miss him terribly. Now, please, who is your companion?” It was at about this point that Vital realized Trixie was actually shying away from Wukong.
“This is Trixie Lulamoon, my … marefriend.” Vital sighed. “There are some parts of Pony language I don’t think I’ll ever get used to.”
“Please come here,” Wukong told Trixie. “I won’t harm you, child. Please. I sense it in you also.”
“I-it? What do you mean by ‘it?’” Trixie asked nervously as her eyes darted to either side.
“I was born from a rock impregnated with an egg from a stone from heaven. When I hatched, the power within me was so great, they say golden light shone from my eyes brightly enough to be seen from heaven. When I ate and drank, I accepted earth into me, and so both heaven and earth are within me, and are constantly in flux. Is it not the same with you? I feel the powers within you constantly in flux. Come. Come, child. For never have I encountered another quite so similar to me.”
Vital gave Trixie a gentle nudge of encouragement. “Go on,” he whispered.
Trixie looked back hesitantly at the white Unicorn. Then she gulped as she stepped slowly towards the four times immortal being. “Trixie … may not quite be the same,” she warned. “It … it isn’t earth and heaven that ‘fluxes,’ as you put it, but light and darkness.”
“Earth and heaven arelight and darkness, for those gods in heaven are the order, and set in their ways. They purify the spirit, and that gives the mortals their light. But the demons are of the earth, and they corrupt and tempt the spirit. And from them, the darkness comes. So you see, child, we are not so different, but this power doesn’t damn you. Seize it, and it will make you great. It will help you find your path to immortality. Now stand up, and cower no more.” He made a heroic stance, and in a puff of smoke, a banner covered in calligraphy appeared, attached to his back. He wore his long pheonix feather cap, and a scarlet cape. His face was covered in bright war paint. “I am Sun Wukong, the handsome Monkey King, and Great Sage Equal to Heaven. Now announce yourself!” he boomed, smirking.
“I … I am Trixie,” Trixie tried.
“More spirit!” Wukong ordered.
“I am Trixie,” she said, less hesitantly this time.
“Is Trixie all you are? Don’t be pitiful. Be magnificent!”
“I am the Great and Powerful Trrrrixie!” the mare shouted. “And I will not be held back!”
“There it is.” Wukong smiled. “Keep that confidence. Don’t be deterred by the doubt others may give you. Find your place, Sister, and let none deter you from that purpose.”
Extended Holiday Ch: 126: Days Under the Peach Trees Act 18
Monkeygascar was in a beautiful time of year. While Equestria was currently in the middle of winter, the small island nation was just beginning its dry season. The air was hot and warm, and the island’s vegetation was flush and green. Wukong's peach orchard glowed with blossoms on the edge of their vision. Monkeys were everywhere, enjoying all types of activities in the bright sunlight, from chasing each other through the boughs to lazing in a sunbeam. It had surprised Grif, if only slightly, that their landing and disembarking was taken with little more interest than a passing stormcloud. He hadn’t expected them to adapt so quickly to the idea of the large airship sitting peacefully near the coast on a small pocket of air as it waited for its inhabitants to return.
Wukong played the part of the gracious host as he led the newcomers across the island, pointing out curiosities he thought they may find interesting, or happily explaining some odd aspect of Monkey culture.
“Of course, we still return to the mountain summit to sleep. It’s safer that way,” Wukong noted.
Pensword opened, but then closed his muzzle, not daring to ask the question. Inigo, on the other hoof, being a child, didn’t see the problem.
“Why’s it safer?” he asked.
“Because, should anything be hunting on my island at night, I would feel it before it could reach my Monkeys,” Wukong said.
“Wait,” Day Moon spoke up, “you’re saying something hunts on the island?”
“Well, did you expect me to wipe out the natural ecosystem?” Wukong asked.
Instead of fear or surprise, excitement dawned in Day Moon’s eyes as he grinned. “Can I hunt with you?” he asked.
Wukong shook his head. “You misunderstand. I do not go after anything, unless there is reason. I and my people have moved into their home. It is not our right to kill them without need.”
Oh.” Day Moon’s smile turned to a frown. “I’ll go to sleep on the ship, then.”
“There is nothing wrong with eagerness, my young friend,” Wukong said consolingly as he laid a leathery hand on the foal’s shoulder, “but we must temper that with perspective. It is a lesson that took me over five hundred years to learn.”
“I’d love to hear about that,” Vital said with a gentle smile. “I’ve only heard one side of the story, after all. Hearing from your end would be a true honor.”
“Perhaps,” Wukong smiled at Vital. “After some wine.”
Vital hesitated. “Um … are we talking wine in the sense of fresh pressed or wine in the sense of makes you woozy and tipsy?”
“Depends on the jar,” Wukong laughed. “Peaches are tricky that way. Store their juice long enough in the right conditions, and it could be anything.”
“You like the surprise, don’t you?”
“I don’t get a lot of them anymore,” Wukong noted with a dry laugh. “If you know my story, then you know I am a very, very old Monkey.”
“Who was very, very much needed,” Vital said returned, “and whose legacy has not gone forgotten in the land of his birth.”
“So long as people don’t mistake me for the pig,” Wukong chuckled. “That foolish pig.”
“The adorable one with the handsome face, who always got the girl?” Vital asked as he wiggled his brow playfully.
“Well that's what he’d say,” Wukong laughed. “But that was Sandy, in reality.”
“If I see them, I’ll send them a hello from you, if you’d like.”
“I was under the impression the time of gods and monsters was over?” Wukong raised an eyebrow.
“Knowing our luck, we’ll run into something,” Pensword muttered.
“Besides, you never know. I like to prepare for potential eventualities, especially when I believe it could be a positive one,” Vital said.
“My leaving was not positive by any definition,” Wukong said dryly.
“Perhaps, but your relationship to Sandy and Pigsy was. I was thinking more of that.”
“Let's not worry about it for now. You have quite a walk yet to go,” Wukong noted as they approached a long staircase carved into the side of the mountain. “I will see you at the top.” And with a backflip, Wukong was gone.
Vital sighed, and then grinned as he looked up. “Ah, my old nemesis. Stairs.”
“Well, have fun,” Grif chuckled as he took to the air. Avalon and Shrial soon followed him, and they turned towards the summit together.
“Vital chuckled. “Shall we, Trixie?”
“Trixie supposes we’ll have to, unless the commander would be generous enough to give us a ride?” She looked to Pensword hopefully.
Pensword and his family were already in the air, and he chuckled as he looked down on the couple. “Stairs build character. And besides, you might get to see some cool carvings.”
“And maybe have a romantic moment or two,” Lunar Fang added cheekily.
Pensword smirked, and laughed as they headed up the mountain.
“Don’t you think we should have waited for them, Darling?” Rarity asked Hammer Strike, having already started walking with her husband.
“Nah. They’ll make it in the end.”
“Before or after Trixie has a nervous breakdown?”
“After. Without a doubt.”
“Poor dear. She can’t even teleport to the top, since she’s never been here before, can she?”
“Nope,” Hammer Strike commented.
“Of course, I suppose she could try intermittent teleports to varying points along the stairs that she can actually see, until she reaches the top,” Rarity mused, “but you don’t want me to tell them that, do you?”
“She’ll tire herself out quicker that way.”
“Have you tested that theory?”
Teleportation, from what I’ve been able to note, is intense when done in rapid succession. If it was one long range jump, the amount of energy would be drastically less than rapidly bouncing between locations.”
“And I’m guessing portals will be just as consuming, if not more so?”
“More, without a doubt. Portals are two continuous points of travel that are open for a much longer time than an instantaneous transport.”
“I hope Vital is as patient as you say he is, then. We’ve had the training to take this kind of a climb. I’m not quite so sure about Trixie.”
“They’ll get to the top eventually. Otherwise, they can just stay on the ship, and enjoy the same view, day in and day out.”
A distant wail echoed up the stairs.
“And there it is,” Rarity said with a sigh.
Pensword lounged on a tree branch hanging over the stairs as he waited for the others to finish the climb. A half eaten peach sat perfectly balanced in his hooves. Moon River lay beside him in the comfortable shade, chewing on a peach slice he’d cut for her.
“Hey, Trixie, we finally made it!” Vital called as his head finally peaked up over the cliff’s plateau to see the many trees. Simple wooden and stone huts dotted all over along the ground and wooden ones within the trees. There was no road, save for a beaten path that twisted and turned all over the area. Near the center was a larger stone building where Wukong likely lived. This was implied by the giant painting of him on the outer wall.
“Welcome to the party,” Pensword replied with a giggle. “Did you enjoy the hike?”
“I didn’t mind too much. All that fitness training with Grif sure helped. Trixie, on the other hand….”
“Why … are there so many stairs?” Trixie asked, panting as she finally brought her hooves shakily over the last step, and onto the plateau. Her mane drooped below, brushing the ground as her magician's hat hung lopsided on her head.
“Could have been worse. Imagine if there wasn’t any stairs,” Hammer Strike commented from his position in the shade of another tree. Rarity nuzzled him with a gentle smile.
“Trixie is lucky to be alive.”
“Luck’s got nothing to do with it. And if you’re really that hot and tired, I could always cool you off,” Vital offered as he helped to carry her over to the shade, where a bowl of water and another bowl of peaches sat waiting for them.
“I thought you were waiting till after the wedding?” Grif asked from a higher branch, wiggling his eyebrows.
“... How does that even make any sense at all, Grif? I was offering to give her some relief. That has nothing to do with a wedding,” Vital deadpanned.
Pensword looked to Vital. “Uh…” he began, only for Lunar Fang to smack him with her leather wing. “Understood. If he doesn’t get it, I won’t mention it.”
Trixie, for her part, looked away, blushing.
Vital rolled his eyes as he caused a gentle sparkling blue mist to hover around the mare, trailing through her mane and tail as they began to perk up again.
“Hope you guys like peaches,” Grif said as he grabbed one, and bit into it.
“They weren’t my favorite, but I don’t mind a few now and again,” Vital said. “How about you, Trixie?”
“Mmm?” Trixie looked up from a partially demolished peach.
“They’re good, aren't they?” Lunar Fang asked as her fangs sank into her own peach, and she struggled not to giggle.
“What do you guys think Fluttershy would think of all this?” Vital asked curiously. “Would she go crazy over these peaches?”
“Well, we can try to bring some back with us,” Pensword replied with a smirk, “but I think she would go crazy.”
“I see Moony hasn’t forgotten them,” Grif chuckled as Moon River gnawed on a peach with only pleased squeaks coming from her.
“I know,” Pensword chuckled. “I think she actually isn’t as happy with the peaches at home as she is here.” He laughed as Moon River cooed and pounced a second peach as she tossed away the remains of the first one. “So … I say we just relax, and enjoy this evening, eat dinner, and see what tomorrow brings.”
“Trixie seconds the motion,” Trixie said tiredly.
“All in favor?” Vital asked with a cuckle as he raised a hoof.
“Sorry, Rarity. Not much for style here. Wukong’s kinda alone on the whole clothing thing,” Grif noted.
“Oh, pish posh, Darling. That battle regalia gave me more ideas than you could possibly imagine. It’s always so much fun when I get to see something from the far east.” Rarity couldn’t stop smiling as she sketched feverishly into a notepad she’d brought with her from the ship.
“Actualy, he stole that armor for a dragon king under the ocean in his home world,” Grif chuckled, “so I don’t know if I’d call it from the far east.”
“It’s certainly similar enough,” Rarity pointed out. “What else should I call it?”
“Divine armor? I mean, technically, it came from a god, and he’s a god, so I guess thats accurate.”
“Hammer Strike, is it just me, or does Grif have a tendency to pull the divine towards him?” Rarity asked.
“I guess that is somewhat true,” Hammer Strike hummed for a second.
“Says the guy who chitchats with death, time, nature, and was it fate now?” Grif asked.
“I mean, they’re only partially divine,” Hammer Strike shrugged. “I have doubts that a divine being is going to just stop by one day to say hi. You have a somewhat reason for at least most of them.”
Vital Spark chuckled. “Glad to hear I’m not the only who calls on Murphy.”
Pensword raised a wing, and dropped it again with a chuckle. “Well, shall we head to dinner?”
The banquet went on pretty late into the night. Aside from peaches, peach wine, peach danties, and peach … soup, there were several types of bread made from rice grown in the lower regions of the island, and wheat grown on a plateau a few miles away. Multiple meat dishes spread out across the food as well. Eventually, Wukong granted Vital Spark’s wish, and recited the entire tale of his adventures with enthusiastic gestures and vivid descriptions. By the time the story ended, Vital and Wukong were the only ones still awake, and the sun was creeping over the horizon.
“Wow.” Vital Spark couldn’t help but say it. After hearing all the things Wukong had done, not to mention the challenges he’d been able to overcome, and how he’d basically been tasked with developing multiple forms of new magic, including going so far as to bring someone back to life from the dead, a type of magic that was deemed to be impossible by mortal standards. “Pardon my French, but you really put up with a lot of crap.”
“Hence why I left,” Wukong nodded as he finished a leftover peach.
“Well, on the plus side, Humanity’s improved at least somewhat from that time. Then again, I guess that depends on who you ask. You could say the monsters and demons of old were just replaced by worse Humans in some cases.” Vital sighed. “I want to be able to go back, but … part of me really wants to stay here in Equis, too. Any advice on how I can decide?”
“Where do you see yourself, if you go back?” Wukong asked.
“Likely working in an office, having connection with my family, maybe going to church, possibly getting married. The world governments were supposed to see me, so I guess there’s that to look forward to. Maybe a few potential assassination attempts, too.” He sighed. “Politics is really complicated.”
“And if you stay?”
“I may never see my family again, but … I’d have sort of a new family here, too. The politics would probably remain the same, but the attempts would likely be different. There’s a whole separate system of religion here for multiple cultures, so that would take some getting used to.” He blushed. “And then there’s the … relationship I’m in at the moment.”
“And which pulls to you more?”
“I’ve been trying to figure that out for weeks now.” Vital sighed again. “It sucks when you can’t have both.”
“Say you went back. Would you be driven by curiosity? Would you wake up at night wondering what you missed?”
“Pretty sure I would in either case.”
“You’d wake up wondering whats numbers you didn’t crunch, what pencils you didn’t sort?” Wukong chuckled.
“More what happened to my family, and what the knowledge of the existence of Equis would do to the balance of peace between the nations. Will my sisters marry, will I be an uncle, will my family survive well, that sort of thing. Honestly, the only number crunching or pencil pushing would likely be talking with foreign ambassadors who want to funnel requests through to Luna and Celestia.”
“Is there nothing in either world that tips the scales, then? Not by a single grain of sand?”
“... At this point, I’m still not sure.” Vital sighed as he did his best to blink back the tears. “I … suppose it depends on how far things go between me and Trixie. If … if it really gets serious, … then I suppose I would have to stay, no matter the consequences.”
“You shouldn’t think of it that way,” Wukong told him. “That could lead to too much pain.”
“I don’t know how else to think of it, though. No matter what, I’m going to be in pain. No matter what, I have to choose.”
“It would happen sooner or later. Our lives are all about painful choices. If anybody knows that, it should be me. I left my people to learn the secrets of immortality, and came back to find them oppressed by a demon. I left them to go to heaven, not once, but twice. I always thought I didn’t have to make a choice between demons and gods. I was of both, so why couldn’t both respect me? The gods mocked me, the demons mocked me. Then they feared me, because I made a painful choice, and it was the wrong one. Ten-thousand of my people died for my foolishness that day. I chose to trust a goddess’s mercy, and she, too, betrayed me. I trusted in Buddha, and he sent me on a journey to the edge of the known world, and then attempted to charge me for the privilege of his sacred quest. Take it from one who has made a lot of choices. Sometimes, it’s the wounds that seem like they will be deepest that end up the easiest to heal.”
Vital chuckled. “Hope you don’t mind if I say it still sucks, but I get where you’re coming from, too. I guess all I can really do is take things a day at a time, the same way I’ve been doing.”
“You’ll make the right choice in time,” Wukong assured him. “Just remember that your companions on this journey must do what they do, or else none of you may find the end.”
“I didn’t know you had clairvoyance as part of your powers,” Vital said with some surprise. He looked out to the rising sun as it shone on the distant ocean waters. “I suppose it comes with the territory, though, huh?” He sighed. “Beautiful sunrise, isn’t it?”
“It always is.” Wukong chuckled. “You should get some rest.”
Vital shook his head. “Grif’ll be after me any minute to start training again. I can sleep after.”
“I don’t think he will.” Wukong shook his head. “Today will be when I see what your lord is made of. There should be no cause for interruption.”
“And my exercising will do that?”
“Where would you run? You’d have to go down the stairs to reach a ground big enough. That would take all day.”
“Unless he made the stairs the exercise in the first place, I suppose,” Vital mused. Then he yawned. “I guess we’ll find out either way. If you say I should go to sleep, I guess I should.” He smiled then, and looked gratefully at the old Monkey. “Thanks for the talk, Wukong.”
“You’re welcome, my friend.”
When Hammer Strike was ready, Wukong led him to another staircase, and up to a flattened square platform. Monkeys slowly filled the area, followed by Hammer Strike’s friends as people gathered to watch the fight that was about to happen. Wukong waited on his side of the field balancing upside down on the end of his staff, which stood vertically in the air. However, unlike a certain zebra, Wukong didn’t wobble or shift even slightly in place.
“Ex divinia etiam. I have a feeling this is going to end ... poorly,” Hammer Strike muttered.
“It is just a spar, my friend. I’m sure you will be fine,” Wukong assured him.
“Nothing ends the way most expect it to, so I’m curious to know what will change this time,” Hammer Strike commented as he reached into his coat, and pulled out Ulcrusher.
“Very fine weapon you have there.”
“The Dwarves spent over a thousand years working at it. It’s the most resilient weapon I have, besides a smithing hammer.”
“We shall see if it is resilient enough, I guess,” Wukong noted as he jumped to his feet. The staff rose into the air, and flew into his outstretched hand.
“Any additional rules outside of you not killing me?” Hammer Strike asked jokingly.
“Do you honestly believe there is anything you can do that would have lasting damage on me?” Wukong asked.
After a moment, Hammer Strike rubbed the back of his neck. “There is potentially one thing, but I wouldn’t know, unless used, and I’d prefer not to use it.”
“Then I will hold nothing back from you,” Wukong chuckled, gesturing with one hand for Hammer Strike to come.
Hammer Strike charged the Monkey almost instantly, bringing the hammer up as he prepared to attack with all his worth. Wukong, for his part, saw the path of the hammer, and brought his staff up to block. The instant the hammer made contact with the staff, the runes along the handle shone brightly, and the hammer turned white hot. The shockwave of the two weapon colliding sent the Earth Pony flying backwards as well as knocking several Monkeys over, along with Rarity, Trixie, and Pensword.
Wukong looked around, and gaped. “That was slightly more collateral damage than expected.”
“It’ll get much worse, unless you have another arena on the island that’s more resilient,” Hammer Strike responded as he regained his footing.
“Perhaps it wouldbe better to access something less … fragile,” Wukong agreed. The Monkey King strode over to Hammer Strike, picking the Pony up without any visible effort, along with his hammer. He then proceeded to jump, flipping backwards in the process, and the two vanished immediately.
Pensword blinked in surprise. “Wha–?” he muttered. “Did … did I just see what would happen if the immovable object hit an unstoppable force?”
“I don’t think so yet,” Grif noted. “My guess is he took Hammer Strike to the spiritual plane.”
Pensword’s chuckles stopped dead in their tracks. “That … concerns me in many, many ways.”
“Me, too, Pensword. Me, too,” Grif nodded.
For a moment, everything around Hammer Strike blurred. He felt wind in his face, yet it moved so fast that breathing was next to impossible. And then it stopped, and Wukong set him down. The two stood in a vast dark void-like area. Nothingness stretched all around them, save for the occasional flicker of red lighting that seemed to go in no particular direction. The air was cold and dry, and it chilled the Earth Pony to the bone.
Hammer Strike shook his head for a moment, attempting to clear it. “That was … a different experience,” he commented, rubbing the side of his head.
“Welcome to the spirit plane, my friend,” Wukong noted, “or one of them, at least.”
“It certainly feels … odd here,” Hammer Strike commented as he looked around. “I’m pretty certain there won’t be any damage here, though.”
“Pretty hard when there is nothing to damage,” Wukong agreed.
“Yeah,” Hammer Strike replied as he took his position once more, Ulcrusher at the ready as his eyes flashed with thaumic power. “Let’s get down to it, then.”
This time, the fight went slower as the two figures circled one another, looking for possible openings. Still, every time Hammer Strike attacked, he found himself repulsed as Wukong countered blow after blow. Jingu Bang seemed to ping almost teasingly as the hammer bounced off the staff’s body. Worse yet, without the hammer giving to the force, Hammer Strike was forced back instead, resulting in him being sent flying again and again from the repeated blocks.
Hammer Strike huffed as he looked across the field at Wukong. The realization he needed to up the game dawned on him, and quite suddenly, a red thaumic crystal seemed to collate in the air, then vanish as energy surged across the Pony’s form. The air around him began to shimmer from the heat. As he charged forward, the air around him started to combust, flames rising higher and higher as the two forces met. When Ulcrusher landed against the staff with a metallic ring, shockwaves of fire spread outwards into the distance. The flames seemed to do little more than annoy the Monkey King as they washed over him. This time, Wukong struck, landing a single well-placed blow at the Pony’s side, sending Hammer Strike flying without much effort.
“You'll need to try harder,” Wukong taunted.
Hammer Strike almost let out a faint growl as he gave a brief shudder.
Their next clash ended in much the same manner. Despite the air itself combusting from the heat and the metal of the hammer glowing brilliantly, the Monkey King didn’t relent. Instead, he blocked each blow with the cunning accuracy one would expect from a millennia old master, and, much like before, a single blow sent Hammer Strike sprawling.
This time it was a green crystal that proceeded to form and vanish. Hammerstrike bellowed as he brought the hammer into the void-like ground. The reaction was large hammer-shaped stalagmites erupting at Wukong, who proceeded to destroy or dodge them with apparent ease. He slammed the end of his staff into one, then did a backflip, and sent the stone chunk flying back at Hammer Strike, who dodged it just in time.
“The elements? Really? If I was after an easy fight, I wouldn’t have taken you here,” Wukong said with a cheeky grin.
“Fine,” Hammer Strike growled. “You want different? Then I’ll use something different.” A purple crystal flashed in and out of view before him, and his eyes became covered by a purple flame.
“What did that do?” Wukong wondered aloud, before realizing his body felt heavier than usual. He could feel a great weight pulling him down, and an even greater weight on his staff. Meanwhile, Hammer Strike seemed to vanish before him as he charged at incredible speeds, confident in the fact that the huge gravitational mass applying to the Monkey would give him the upper-
Clang
The hammer met the staff again, and again, and again. No matter how much he decresed gravity on himself or increased it on Wukong, the result was the same. The Monkey seemed to ignore the extra burden, and still managed to respond in kind.
“Did you even pay attention to my story? It wasn’t the mountain that kept me impriso–.” Wukong froze, literally froze, as did everything else as a deeper purple crystal appeared and vanished. This time, he felt chains much harder on his limbs as time itself became solid.
Hammer Strike smiled as he charged. There would be nothing to stop him now. The Monkey couldn’t move, so he couldn’t block. This time, Hammer Strike had found a way around his movements. Thistime, he’d–.
The Monkey King: staff, armor, and all vanished in a puff of smoke as the hammer came down on him. A small red hair floated in midair, waiting patiently to fall to the ground. When Hammer Strike turned to scan for the Monkey in question, he found himself surrounded from every conceivable angle by clones who had most certainly not been present before.
A light red crystal now flashed in and out of existence, only this time the deep purple energy didn’t dissipate as the lighter red came in. It only faded slightly to allow the red energy to mix. At that moment, Hammer Strike’s body glowed brightly as he slammed the hammer forward, dispelling the clones before him with a wave of energy. He could feel the network of energy in front of him. Each staff was identical, but the Monkey’s, well, there had to be one Monkey who would burn brighter than the others. So Hammer Strike battered his way through the clones one after the other, hunting for that brighter light, all the time not realizing as the deep purple energy continued to fade. By the time it faded completely, Hammer Strike had managed to dispel two thirds of the clones, but a third still remained as time regained its normal flow. Soon he found himself swarmed in one of the hardest fights of his life as he dodged and ducked staves, all while delivering blow by blow. This whole time, he’d not noticed as one of the clones’ staves rolled off to the side when it’s user was dispelled. The staff glowed briefly, and then Wukong transformed silently back into himself.
“You like to play that game, huh? Well two can do that,” the Monkey said with a smirk. “Freeze!” he spoke, and suddenly, Hammer Strike found his own body paused as Wukong dispersed his clones, recalling the hairs as he walked up to the frozen figure. He leaned over with two fingers held tightly. “Flick,” he said casually as he broke the spell just as his fingers made contact. Once again, Hammer Strike went flying.
“Games? Games?” Hammer Strike shuddered as a black crystal flashed into existence. After a second, it disappeared, and the darkness seemed to draw into him. “Fine. I’ll play. I’ll play your game!” he yelled out as the thaumic energy vanished, revealing a blacked eye as he gave a faint, twitchy smile.
“Calm down, friend. This doesn’t need to be personal,” Wukong offered.
Hammer Strike’s smile remained. “I want to see how far I can actually push myself.”
Wukong shrugged. “If that is your wish.” He recalled his staff to his hand, and got into position. “Let's see, then.”
This time the two engaged in something much more brutal as staff met hammer. And for the first time, Hammer Strike pushed. The air around him seemed to bleed with darkness as he pressed, the energy giving him strength. Oddly enough, the energy seemed to avoid the hammer. Some force inside the weapon pulsed, pushing the shadows away. Still, Wukong gave ground as the two fought, or at least so it seemed at first, though Hammer Strike began to notice it was far too easy. The Monkey didn’t seem to be trying at all. He let out a growl, ducked a blow, then proceeded to slam the hammer head as hard as he could into Wukong’s side, eliciting a gasp from the king.
Wukong pressed back now, determined to end this quickly. Something was wrong. He could sense something in the darkness grasping at the Pony. “You need to stop using that power,” he warned.
“Why? It’s obvious I finally found something that’ll at least work,” Hammer Strike growled. The light was gone from his eyes, replaced by an empty blackness.
“Not as well as you think,” Wukong answered. In the fight that followed, Hammer Strike proceeded to find out why as the Monkey king held back a lot less. He rained down powerful blows, attempting to force the Pony back. And seemingly, he was successful.
Flames erupted from Hammer Strike’s body, only these flames where different, older, more sinister. They bit at Wukong and the staff with each contact, yet they seemed to do little more than base damage. Nonetheless, Wukong could feel the hairs rising on the back of his neck. There was definitely something more dangerous at work here.
“What's happened to you?” the Monkey King pressed. “You’ve been changed, corrupted.”
“I’ve always been this way,” Hammer Strike responded. “It’s always been there, in the back of my mind, that burning question of why I bother.”
“I highly doubt that's true,” Wukong growled as he pushed. “Your friends trust you too much.”
“Then perhaps their trust is misplaced,” Hammer Strike grunted.
“Or maybe you're being controlled by something,” Wukong retorted. “Something is grabbing onto your soul, and trying to twist it.”
“You believe the same thing as they do, but you’re just as wrong.”
“Beware to whom you speak, child,” Wukong growled, flipping Hammer Strike over with his staff. “I have lived far more lifetimes, and seen evils far greater than what you can possibly imagine.”
“Yet as old as you are, and as much as you’ve experienced, you fail to grasp some ideas that you either ignored or never learned about. Despite how the Primal clings to every fiber of your being, you fail to use it, to acknowledge it even.”
“I don’t know what this Primal is,” Wukong admitted, “but Heaven and Earth exist in me. And with them, I have been to the farthest pits of hell and the greatest heights of heaven. I have seen evils the like of which no one has ever understood. Don’t presume where I am ignorant and where I am wise.”
“Imagine if you knew,” Hammer Strike chuckled as he righted himself.
“Enlighten me,” Wukong sneered.
“Why would I? You’re clearly strong enough as it is. Why would I bother teaching you about it?”
“Because something is attacking you,” Wukong stated as his eyes erupted in fire.
“Who cares? What if I want to be like this, to finally stop caring about how everyone sees me, to finally stop holding back, to finally do whatever I want to do?” Hammer Strike roared as the thaumic flames grew around him.
“I once thought like you,” Wukong said sadly. “Back then, I was a stupid, selfish Monkey. I made mistakes I will never be able to forget.” He braced himself as he raised his staff into a combative stance. “But I won’t let you follow in my footsteps.”
“I’ve already done things I regret, yet no matter hard I try, those memories resurface. They’re brought back by spells. Nobody will letme forget,” Hammer Strike chuckled. “They rely on me so much. Always into the fire, with little time for myself.”
“They follow you. That’s more than many can ask for,” Wukong retorted.
“But do I need them?” Hammer Strike’s smile grew. “They’re not willing to go far enough, but to be honest, I don’t want to teach them further.”
“You contradict yourself so openly. They don’t want to push further. You don’t want to lead them further. Pick a side, and stay with it!”
Hammer Strike rolled his eyes, giving a faint grunt. “Again, I ask, why bother?”
“Because what else is there?” Wukong pressed. “Power? Power fades eventually. Glory? Glory is the fantasy of old men. Riches? Money is a temporary, finite thing. Bonds, my young friend, are what make life worth it.”
“Why bother with bonds that will be destroyed when I die?” Hammer Strike gave a faint twitch. “I’ve seen the time of my death. Despite his fear, I am to fall. It’s not too far off either, but with the constant fluctuation of time, who knows how long it’ll be till I run face first into it?”
“You act as though death is the worst that can happen to you,” Wukong scoffed.
“It is when there’ll be nothing left of me afterwards,” Hammer Strike chuckled. “I doubt my own soul could manage to survive after it all.”
“You underestimate the strength of your soul, and the strength of bonds which can tie your memory to the world,” Wukong said. “But it matters not. I’ve let this go for too long. It’s time I return you to who you should be.”
“You have no idea of thaumaturgy, yet you believe you can fix it?” Hammer Strike started to chuckle, before it turned to distorted laughter. “They killed me when they tried it before. You think you could do better with no knowledge?”
“I don’t think. I know,” Wukong stated. And with that, he made his move. In a burst of speed, he shrunk the staff in his hands, and jammed it into Hammer Strike’s mouth, forcing it open, before he vanished in a puff of smoke, and something small, round, and black lodged itself in the Pony’s throat. The energy in his body was suddenly and rapidly being leeched from him.
Hammer Strike flailed and raged as he felt the energy dissipate. But the more he struggled, the more tired he felt, until his motion ebbed. He felt the energy being removed from his body, and along with it came flares of pain as his body attempted to compensate for the first time in a long time for the injuries that were once held at bay by his thaumic field.
Then, quite suddenly, energy began flowing back into him, but this energy was not tainted by the dark aspect. His throat caught, and he found himself coughing as a small black pill was ejected from his throat.
Hammer Strike sighed as he brought a hoof up to his head. While the energy being pushed back into him was more pure in nature, it was raw in formation, and was slowly being bent back into his field accordingly.
“How do you feel?” a familiar voice asked.
“Better, thank you,” Hammer Strike commented. “I’m … sorry for that. I didn’t notice how close to the void we were.”
“This void you speak of. I’m guessing it’s a realm where evil beings of power live?” Wukong asked.
“It’s a location between realities, between the worlds,” Hammer Strike replied as he continued to rub the side of his head. “With it comes an immeasurable amount of energy that, when claimed, turns the user … unnatural.”
“I think I’ve seen it before. Are you sure you’re all right?”
“My body aches a bit. When you removed the energy from me, my thaumic field weakened, and the parts it was holding together began to fall apart. That extra energy you gave me should help stabilize things again. I’ll live,” Hammer Strike said as he reached into his coat, and began searching. “I might be able to do something about it,” he said, pulling out a red crystal.
“That's not going to leave us back where we started, is it?” Wukong asked warily.
“No, no,” Hammer Strike quickly responded. “These crystals are aspects, or forces and substances of reality. Fire, Earth, Gravity, Time, Energy, … Dark.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “By that point, I had fully lost control of myself.”
So these aspects are in everything? Then what would you say my aspect is?” Wukong asked as he returned his staff to its place behind his ear. The battle was over, after all.
“The closest I could believe would be–.” Hammer Strike’s eyes flashed with blue fire, then returned to normal. He began blinking rapidly as he rubbed his eyes. “Wow. Yeah, Primal energy. I don’t want to go blind by trying that again.”
Wukong laughed. “It’s funny. When I hatched from my stone egg, my fur originally shone with a bright golden light that could apparently be seen from Heaven.”
“Primal energy, most likely. From what I can tell, it’s basically the essence of the gods.” Hammer Strike shrugged as the crystal in his hooves began shrinking, drawing into himself as bruises lessened.
“Divine energy? But then that would mean I was already divine at birth,” Wukong said as he slowly pieced things together. “I spent several hundred years chasing immortality for nothing?” he asked, bewildered.
“Not sure. Primal energy can be minor or major. But if it was bright enough to reach the heavens, then it certainly wasn’t minor.” Hammer Strike sighed as the crystal vanished. “I need to keep this in mind. Slow as it is, it works.”
“And what would this energy do to you?” Wukong asked.
“Primal energy? I don’t know for certain. I know that if I were to fully infuse myself with it, I could ascend to a sort of … divine-like being? I think.”
“Well then, perhaps we shall talk more on this later. Let’s return to our world,” Wukong said as he picked the Pony up, and backflipped out of the plane the same way they’d come in.
Baron Blueblood sat in his opulent office, surrounded by display cases filled with ancient artifacts, gems, necklaces, horn rings, pendants tied to famous rulers or Unicorns, along with a few family heirlooms. He frowned as he looked at a bookcase. It seemed out of sorts surrounded by so many display cases and artifacts. The shelves were filled with thick tomes recording the history of House Blueblood, several volumes of Unicorn history, and many financial records. He glared at the shelves as memories from the day he took over the office from his father played through his mind. Back then, it had been a drum that stood there. He’d donated it to the local museum for a tax credit, and that was when he discovered what lay behind.
That onerous carving of a dreamcatcher had been there for generations. No magic could erase it, and no mason could destroy it. It was irrefutable evidence of their family’s black history, evidence that refused to be destroyed. As such, he’d ordered the whole room covered in wallpaper, and then added the bookcase for extra measure to ensure none would discover the secret.
He picked up a thick scroll, and his frown deepened. The first reports from his holdings, business ventures, wealth from his own authority to tax the Ponies on his lands, and finally the interest from his bank accounts had come in for the first time since “returning” his lands to that Pegasus pretender. He unfurled it slowly, and his eyes narrowed. He did not like what he saw.
The cushion from the extra stewardship was gone for the first time since they had joined the Hurricanes in managing the ancient wealth. The family profit margin had shrunk to a mere five-hundred thousand bits. For one such as he, that left much to be desired. He knew times would be tight, but this was positively ridiculous. One lost shipment, one rogue storm, one debt call too early, and the family would drop into the red. He would have to rely on…. He shuddered at the thought of peddling their silver and furniture accents to make ends meet. No. That was not to be abided. And yet … he may have little choice. His gaze lingered over the items in the cases, and he sighed. It would hurt, but if it was necessary, he would donate something to offset some of his own taxes to the Crown. Celestia was always looking for new artifacts to add to her collection. He paused as his eyes lingered on a glass case filled with daggers that had been mounted to the wall. The family dagger collection was the least loved of their heirlooms. If worse came to worst, he would donate that first.
He shook his head rapidly. It would not do to dwell on such things, not when he had bigger problems to worry about. He had to figure out a way to hinder the interloper and his filthy little bats. Filly De Ys was off limits. Princess Luna would protect her precious Thestrals to the death, and that was to be the seat of her power. However….
A vicious smile soon replaced his frown as he pulled a fresh piece of parchment from a drawer, and began to write. If he couldn’t have the money, then neither would Pensword and his ilk. He chuckled darkly to himself. “After all, a military needs a strong base.” He finished jotting the note down, then took another parchment, and began scrawling feverishly. Half an hour later, the letter was finally complete.
“Storm!” he called. He soon heard the distant footfalls. A moment later, an effeminate Dragon with yellow scales and a wide pair of wings folded at her sides entered, and bowed to the lord.
“You summoned me, Lord Blueblood?”
Blueblood levitated the scroll to her in his magic. “This is to be delivered to my accountant. I need a meeting tomorrow, so we can go over my books fully. We are beginning to see the full effect of the impact of the loss of our protectorate.”
The Dragoness nodded her head, released a gout of yellow fire to consume the scroll, leaving behind a golden soot that sparkled as it flowed out of the room. “Will there be anything else, m’lord?” she asked.
Blueblood waved dismissively at her, not even deigning to reply. The Dragon scowled, but held her tongue as she left the room. Blueblood paid her no mind as he lifted the extra scrolls in his magic, and took them to a second bookcase with an empty shelf. He put them into the case alongside their brothers, then turned to pull a tag from his desk, labeled it with the year and date, and placed it on the ribbon binding the newest addition in a long line of monetary estimates and reports. He channeled his magic into his horn, then tapped a gem on the side of the container. The scrolls shimmered and wavered like a mirage, then solidified into the image of heavy reference books. After taking his time to examine the full extent of the illusion charm, he nodded, then turned to trot back to his desk, before sitting in his plush high-back chair to wait.
Five minutes later, Blueblood heard the familiar four knocks indicating his butler’s arrival with a guest. The door opened, and Blueblood donned a mask of joviality as the elderly stallion motioned for the guest to enter.
“Ah, Count Facet. I hope you’re well. Tell me, what have you found out?”
Count Facet grinned nervously as he scanned the room. “Well, uh, Duke Chivalry has been seen boarding a train with plans to travel to Filly De Ys, followed by a brief stop at New Unity on his way back. Those of our … shared perspective have written him off for any chance of reconciliation, let alone cowing. We’ve lost our bargaining chip with his foals in New Unity. He sees himself having nothing more to lose.” Facet shuffled his hooves as he tried keep his sweat from showing. “It … appears that, like it or not, we now have a Thestral spy in the Solar Court.”
“That may be true;” Blueblood replied, “however, my dear Count, we have good news. You see, Counts Ruby, Topaz, and Monocle, with Baron Polish and Duchess Silk have all agreed to join our faction. It seems they don’t want some of their more … sensitive secrets getting out.”
“That ... that is good to hear,” Facet replied as he wiped the sweat from his brow. “T–thank you for helping me repair my reputation from the–” he cleared his throat “–debacle.”
“Think nothing of it,” Blueblood said easily. “Now, if only we could get the Shield family or some of the–” he nearly gagged “–new higher-ups on our side. We’ve already written off the Sparkle faction. They’ll vote together, meaning they will side with the Friendship Court, and Princess Twilight is in full agreement on integration and remilitarization.”
Facet sighed, then steeled himself. “Unfortunately, we still have a problem. According to current straw pollings some of my contacts in the papers have done, the support for Luna’s bill has been rising steadily. She’s made very good use of logos in her arguments, while appealing to the masses with the focus on past failures in our current military to defend Equestria.” He paused to swallow. “As things stand now, the public is swaying into Luna’s camp. We stand at 49% for and 49% against. The remainder are undecided.”
Blueblood’s left eye twitched. “Well, it doesn’t matter. I want you to get your best suit. You and I are going out. Duchess and Duke Sparkle are throwing a party at Duke Fancy Pants’ home to celebrate their new ‘standing.’ With the holdings Celestia has given them, we have a lot of damage control to take care of.”
The two old blooded Unicorns both scowled. Due to recent events, two duchies had been stripped from some of the older houses, and given to Fancy Pants to manage. If that weren’t bad enough, one of their staunchest allies’ lands had been confiscated and placed squarely in the hooves of the Sparkle clan. The Dutchy of Canterlot Hills now belonged to those miserable self righteous purple ingrates, and with it, all the hills surrounding Celestia’s Horn. Blueblood sighed as he allowed himself to think of the mighty mountain and the ornate palace that had been built upon it. True, the mountain had a different name on the more official records, but every noble Unicorn knew its real name.
Unfortunately, with this loss, Celestia had successfully transferred all authority over the precious metals and gemstones in the markets to the Sparkles as well. They wouldn’t be able to count on Penny Pincher to add to their sluice funds anymore with Night Light overseeing bit production. And worse yet, unless they could find a way to ruin the family’s name, the Sparkles would retain that authority for generations to come. For the first time in over two hundred years, House Blueblood wouldn’t have a say over who would be in charge of currency manufacture. It made Blueblood sick.
“Well,” Facet finally spoke, breaking through the pall that had settled over the room, “I heard a rumor. You see, Twilight Velvet was seen leaving Canterlot Castle, most likely after a meeting with the princesses. That was just a little over two months ago. Our spies have kept close watch on her, and based on changes in behavior and general bearing, we have strong reason to believe she’s with foal. If our intelligence is correct, then the purpose of this garden party may be to announce the fact that a new heir is about to be born into their home. That should prevent the Duchy from falling into Princess Twilight’s hooves, leaving jurisdiction within the Solar Court instead.”
Blueblood gaped. “You’re suggesting that the princesses used something to give Dutchess Velvet the ability to conceive at her age? In the middle of winter?” He smriked. “Oh, this is interesting news, indeed. There may be hope yet for our cause, should this prove true. Thank you, Facet.” He lit his horn, and an audible click filled the room as he unlocked a drawer in his desk, and withdrew a plain notebook, a quill, and an inkwell. “With news like that, you can kiss a thousand bits of your debt goodbye.”
Facet’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head. “Th-thank you, Sir.”
Blueblood waved his hoof magnanimously. “Nonsense. You deserve it after showing such dedication.” Internally, he seethed that his own spies hadn’t caught wind of this sooner, but at least it proved that Facet could very well prove to be an asset in his own right. Besides, if Facet were the one caught spying, then Blueblood would remain in the clear. He smiled. “I think we have a party to get ready for, don’t we?” He raised his muzzle, and cried, “Silent Jacket!”
The butler appeared almost immediately at Count Facet’s side, causing the Unicorn to jump in shock. Good. That was exactly the reaction Blueblood wanted.
“Can you please escort Count Facet to my personal tailor? He deserves something special to wear to the party. Take him to Stitch Savor for a proper fitting. I only get the finest for my friends.”
Silent Jacket nodded meekly. “Of course, Sir. It would be my pleasure.”
When the pair had left, Blueblood finally let the mask drop as a malevolent sneer dawned on his face, and he let his laughter go.
“Well,” Pensword began, “this is lasting longer than I had first thought. Based on the fight you two had, I figured Wukong would have beaten him by now. Then again, they could be chatting about, well, whatever they would talk about to bond over.”
Grif shook his head. “It’s lasting too long. I know Wukong likes to play around, but this seems excessive.”
“Is there a time differential between the spiritual plane and this one?” Vital asked. “If so, that could explain the reason why it’s taking so long.”
And then they appeared, landing from the sky, even though they hadn’t been above them a minute ago. The group was surprised to actually see Hammer Strike stagger as Wukong set him down.
“Is everything all right?” Vital asked as he looked over to the Earth Pony lord. “What happened?”
“We fought, and I’m worn down,” Hammer Strike replied as he sat down and brought a hoof up to rub the side of his head.
“Did you have fun?” Pensword asked.
“It was … an interesting fight, to say the least,” Hammer Strike shrugged. “I’m not dead. He’s uninjured.”
“And they all lived happily ever after?” Vital ventured.
Hammer Strike rolled his eyes.
“I don’t think Rarity would like that,” Pensword quipped.
“And why wouldn’t she like living happily ever after?” Vital shot back with a hint of a smirk.
“Well, the way you spoke, it could be construed that Hammer Strike and Wukong would be the ones having the ending,” Pensword teased.
“Ah, but without the portion clarifying that, it’s completely open ended, just the way most people like it.” Vital smiled as he raised an eyebrow in challenge.
“Is he simple?” Wukong asked Hammer Strike.
“Don’t ask me. We often wonder.”
“Why is it everyone who’s older than a hundred calls me simple?” Vital lamented.
“You really want that question answered?” Grif asked.
Pensword just smirked, before breaking up into a giggling fit.
“... Shut up,” Vital muttered as he scuffed his hoof against the ground.
“Sorry for the wait. We got a bit carried away,” Wukong offered to the group, locking eyes only momentarily with the Gryphon. “I think your lord will need to rest for a while. Perhaps later you can show me how you are coming along, brother?”
“Sure.” Grif nodded. “I’ve got some new tricks.”
“A quote about old dogs comes to mind,” Vital said with a wink.
“Is it they put stupid puppies in their places?” Grif asked, buffeting him with a wing, but chuckling, even as Pensword’s giggling intensified.
“At least this puppy has some fangs,” Vital chuckled. “And he’s learning how to use them.”
“Yeah. Maybe, if I stand really still, you’ll be able to nibble my leg off in a few hundred years.” Grif winked at Pensword, who was starting to lose a few breaths at how much he was laughing.
Lunar Fang couldn’t help but smile, while Fox Feather looked on in confusion.
“Is he all right?”
“Oh, he’s fine,” Lunar Fang assured her. “Before the war, he’d do this at least once a day, if not more. You should have seen him on his first cloud walk. It tickled his hooves so much, he couldn’t help but fall over and laugh.”
“You should see him when I pontificate,” Vital added. “It’s a killer.”
Pensword fell forward, slamming his hoof against the ground as he laughed. “Why,” he gasped out, “do you think,” he let out another bout of giggles, “I stay so thin?”
“I’ve got a ton of ‘em.” Vital smirked. “A skele-ton.”
Pensword rolled helplessly on his back, while Grif and the others noticed that Hammer Strike and Wukong were missing.
“Did Hammer Strike go off to the hotsprings without me?” Rarity gasped. “I simply must catch up with him. Ta-ta, everypony!” She waved as she raced off into the distance in search of her husband.
“Well, I guess the hotsprings are out for the next while. I think it’s about time for naps anyway,” Grif said as he looked to Shrial. “Wouldn’t you agree?”
“Well, the girls might object, but I’m pretty sure Avalon would be glad of the company,” Shrial pointed out.
Lunar Fang smirked as she looked to Fox Feather. “A nice idea. Nap time sounds like a good way to calm him down. Otherwise, he’ll be giggling all night tonight.”
Fox Feather grinned. “Oh, I think I can come up with something to help.”
Night Terror grumbled as she opened her eyes. Sleep fogged her brain as she wondered why something was rubbing a feather duster under her nose. She sneezed, looked up, and her mind snapped into full gear as she whacked the Pegasus hard with her wings.
“What are you doing in here?” she yelled.
“Waking you, noble butt,” Lightning Dust laughed. “Your training for combat needs to be rounded, so….” She leaned forward, after getting to her hooves, “you’ll be training with the Demon Slayers today.”
Night Terror’s eyes widened. “What?”
“Well, you did say you might have some hired knives after you, and those in charge of your teaching feel you should be a little more on your guard. As such, you’ll be spending the day with us today to further your training.”
“Oh? And what would Ponies from a thousand years ago, and one that almost killed the Princess and her friends, know about hired knives?”
Sergeant Dust glared at the Thestral. “We all have demons to face, little miss nameless.”
“How dare–.”
“How dare I? As you so casually pointed out, I dare a lot. I had nothing to lose as a Private. Did you know that I expected to be thrown into jail, maybe even worse? These Ponies could’ve, you know, and they would’ve been within their rights to let me rot. But instead of that, they looked at what I could be, if I decided to change, and they gave me a chance.
“It was hard, but I worked, and worked, and worked, until I made my way. And rather than beating me down, they cared for me, even after my mistake. If they care for a Pony that messed up that badly, they sure as Faust can care about some little noble Pony who’s scared for her life. They certainly will love you better than a family that won’t even let you have a proper inheritance, let alone acknowledge that fact that you exist.” She looked down calmly at the filly. “So, yes, I dare. I dare to bring up hard memories. I dare to push you to move past yourself. I dare to push you to be a stronger mare than you already are. If there's one thing I know about Pegasi and Thestrals, it’s that we both yearn to be free, to master of our own destinies. So the question is, are you going to master yours or let someone else decide it for you?” She chuckled as she nudged the foal again with a green hoof. “So come on. Daylight’s burning. It’s time to get you some armor fit for that noble flank of yours.”
“How–?” Night Terror began.
“Look, Night Terror. We can run in circles over this all day, but we really should get going. Your fitting starts in five minutes, and I don’t want to be late.”
“What about breakfast?” Night Terror whined as the Pegasus began to push her towards the door. “And stop pushing me!”
“Oh, if you were a Private, we’d have done worse then push thee out the door.”
“You used thee.” Night Terror latched on the words in hopes of producing a distraction.
“You spend almost a year with Ponies from another time, you pick up a few of their speech patterns. You should try it some time, m’lady.” Lightning Dust fixed her with a cheeky grin as she bowed mockingly.
Night Terror’s mind crashed. She had never been called a lady before. Not once. She blushed. Even if it was meant in jest, she couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride at being publicly acknowledged as a noble for once.
“There we go. Moving right along. It gets easier, once your body starts moving. Just takes a bit for the blood to pump in.”
Night Terror’s expression dropped as she realized the sound of her hooves echoing along the corridors of the compound. That conniving, double crossing little…. Just who did this Pony think she was, her nanny?
Eventually, the pair arrived at a pair of stout wooden doors surrounded by a stone arch. Lightning Dust grinned as she knocked on the doors three times, then pushed them open to reveal the light of scorching flames and glowing metal. The hot air blew out in a rush, slamming into the Thestral’s face like a pillow.
Night Terror’s eyes widened as she took in the twisted remnants of armor, the positively gigantic swords, the cruel maces and morning stars, battle axes, and much more. The desiccated remains of fruits and vegetables littered the floor, a gruesome testament to the efficiency of the weapons. “You … you want me. In there?” she asked hoarsely. “It looks like a torture chamber.”
“Oh, if Hammer Strike could hear you say that,” a boisterous voice laughed as the imposing shadow of a burly Unicorn fell over the foal. A flash of light from an extra shovelful of coal in the fires illuminated Steel Weaver’s face as she smiled down at the filly. “I’d say he’d make this ten times worse for you. He tends to make most Ponies feel that way when they meet him for some reason.” She chuckled good-naturedly. “Relax, little one. This is just a normal fitting.” The Unicorn’s horn lit up, and a thick roll of measuring tape floated over to her side. “Now.” She lowered her head, and the shadows raced along her muzzle, turning a friendly smile into a downright malicious grin. “Come into my lair.”
Night Terror felt struck by her namesake once more as Lighting Dust shoved her into the room, before using her hind legs to buck the doors shut with a tone of dreadful finality as the shock wave washed over their ears.
“Excellent. Now–” the measuring tape snapped as Steal Weaver drew it taut in her hooves, and Night Terror let out a whimper. “–Let’s get to work.”
Pensword landed at one of the ledges to watch the waves and just enjoy the afternoon, until his ear twitched. “I hear you, Vital. How ... how are you doing?” He chuckled nervously. Sorry if I took things too far today with the teasing. Different world, different upbringing.”
“Frankly, I’m surprised you’re even awake, Pensword. I thought you’d switched over to the nocturnal schedule for the most part,” Vital pointed out. “As for the teasing … well, I won’t hold it against you. At least not yet,” he added with a playful chuckle.
Pensword shrugged. “I got up early to see the fight. The sun is setting behind us as we speak. Doesn’t help that most of the official stuff needs to be done during the day. Like Lunar Fang said, it’s amazing I get any sleep in the first place, especially being from two worlds.”
“Might have to make that three. After all, you do have contact with the spiritual plane,” Vital mused as he tapped his chin with a hoof.
“And the dead don’t sleep,” Pensword responded with a sad smile.
Vital Spark smacked him on the back of the head. “Don’t you ever talk like that again, mister. Especially not around your wife. You’re not going anywhere anytime soon. If you did, I’d have expect Moon River to pop in, and pull you back.”
“I have no plans to go anywhere, Vital Spark, but I’m not joking. The dead don’t sleep. They don’t get tired. It’s like being at your most awake moments in life forever. Perfect memory, perfect knowledge.” He rubbed his head gingerly. “Also, nice shot. You’re getting stronger.”
Vital blushed, then chuckled nervously. “Sorry. Just … last time I heard someone talking like that, they were considering … well, you can guess.”
“Vital, I speak to the dead. That doesn’t mean I want to join them. It just so happens that one’s humor changes when one can see the next step a little.”
“All due respect, buddy, that was kind of morbid for humor. I’m all for the other side, but life is a bit too precious a time, in my opinion. Joke or no, comparing yourself to the dead like that tends to imply some rather unpleasant notions.” Vital sighed, then broke into a gentle smile. “Either that, or I’m just being a paranoid simpleton.”
“Paranoid simpleton,” Pensword stated affirmatively. “I thought you were asking about sleep for the dead, and I answered you.”
Vital winced. “Welp, guess I live and learn.”
“Indeed. Mistakes that don’t kill you will make you stronger, and/or stranger,” Pensword replied with a laugh.
“It’s Equis, Pensword. Of course we’re going to be stranger.”
Pensword smiled. “And another lesson learned. We’ll make a proper Pony of you yet, Vital.”
Grif and Wukong stood alone in the deserted arena. Wukong had seen that provisions were sent for, and then he had the arena soundproofed and blocked off. Glowing symbols covered the entire area around the arena, as well as anywhere else within earshot. The two sat there on the flat ground. If any passed by, they’d likely see the two sparring. Slowly, Wukong told the story of what had happened between him and Hammer Strike on the spiritual plane. For his part, Grif tried to fill in what he knew, which sadly wasn’t much more than what Wukong had been told.
“So you can wield this power, too?” Wukong asked.
“In a much more limited sense, yes.” Grif nodded as he took a drink from one of the jars they’d brought for the talk. “My power is more attributed to wind and increasing my speed, as you may have noticed last time we fought.”
“Indeed. That does explain a few things.” Wukong nodded sagely as he took a sip from his own jar.
“When you journeyed, did you ever get scared? I mean, not for yourself, of course, but for Pigsy or Sandy or Tripitaka. Did you ever get scared of falling back to the fury of the past?”
“I was young and foolish, with more power than the gods themselves,” Wukong said in a mock-insulted tone. “I was terrified. But if you read any piece of that story, you know those helpless fools wouldn’t have made it far without me. Sometimes you are hungry and broke, and the road seems long, and the gods are unjust. It’s those times that we need to choose what we are at the core. Do you chip and crumble, like chalk, or do you press onward undaunted, like stone?”
Grif laughed. “You would use a metaphor like that.” He sighed. “Sometimes I worry, though. This grand adventure is going to get people killed. I don’t want to be an old Gryphon whose friends all died, while I stick around to tell their stories.”
“That's a reasonable fear to have,” Wukong admitted, “but I think you need to remember your friends are much more competent than mine were. They can take care of themselves. And yes, while things can happen, would you want them to simply vanish to history?”
“No!” Grif blurted out immediately.
“Then far better you are around to do them justice,” Wukong laughed.
“I … never really thought of it that way.”
“Sometimes you need someone who’s been there,” Wukong said. “But enough of this. I have something for you.” The Monkey waved his hand, and produced a small jade box. The front had been segmented into slidable squares. “Inside this puzzle box is a treasure my people found. When you finish the puzzle, what's inside belongs to you.”
Grif took the box gingerly. “Why would you give this to me?”
“Because you have freed me, brother. Now, when you open this box, you free yourself.” Wukong chuckled as he gave the Gryphon a kindly smile. “I’ll get some more wine.” He got to his feet, and left, leaving Grif to stare contemplatively at the box.
Wukong sat beside Hammer Strike’s bed, sipping a cup of his own peach blossom tea. “So this primal energy is the force from which gods are created?” the Monkey asked, not for the first time.
“In a way, yes,” Hammer Strike nodded. “There are other beings created through the Primal, but most are divine-like beings.”
“Sounds like a power most would enjoy having in a crisis.”
“I’d suspect most divine enjoy the power when the time comes,” Hammer Strike shrugged.
“Would you require some of this power?”
“I can’t make the Primal.” Hammer Strike shook his head. “The creation process is … risky.”
“I have enough of this power for five divines. It would not harm me to donate some,” Wukong said simply as he took another sip from his tea cup.
Hammer Strike looked uncertain. “I don’t even know what the Primal would do to me in the first place. It would be useful, but the potential risk makes me nervous, especially since I don’t know if it will alter my mind the way the other aspect did.”
“We are farther from the void now, more than ever. And I am here to deal with any trouble,” Wukong argued.
Hammer Strike placed a hoof on the back of his neck, a faint twitch occurring in the process. After a few more minutes, he nodded. “You’d be able to contain it, if something went wrong. Perhaps we should do it at the arena. It’d be open, and out of the way.”
“You're still exhausted. This place will be fine,” Wukong countered.
“It should be somewhere more open, especially with so many unknowns.”
Wukong sighed. “Very well. I will carry you,” he said as he got to his feet.
“I mean, I can still walk,” Hammer Strike frowned.
“That may be true, but you are very wobbly. It will not be an issue for me, and it will be safer for both of us,” Wukong noted as he hefted the Earth Pony up.
“Yeah, but....” Hammer Strike sighed. “There’s no point in having this discussion further, is there?”
Wukong chuckled as he slid the screen door open. “And at last he understands.”
“Hey, Wukong,” Vital said casually as he walked up to the door. “There a reason you’ve got Hammer Strike on your shoulders like that?”
“Because I don’t think he’s stable enough to walk long distances on his own.” The Monkey shrugged. Hammer Strike responded with a deeper frown.
Pensword paused in midair, a cocky grin on his muzzle. “Finally, somepon–someone strong enough to carry Hammer Strike. I am so going to enjoy this,” Pensword finished as he followed in the air.
Wukong kept on his path towards the arena, arriving not too long after. He set Hammer Strike down carefully near the center. “So how do we do this?”
“You sit still, and I try to ensure the Primal doesn’t expand and attempt to consume the immediate environment,” Hammer Strike replied as he cracked his neck.
Pensword tilted his head. “Hold on a minute. What is the Primal? Is it something bad? Wait. Is it connected to thaumaturgy?” He screeched to halt, which was quite a feat, given he was in the air at the time. “You told him about that?”
“I had to explain some of the stuff that happened in the fight,” Hammer Strike explained. “Wukong was curious as to what the Primal would do to me. With him being primarily formed and joined with an immeasurable amount, he offered for me to try using some. It won’t be an infusion, more along the lines of me holding onto, and trying to use, the energy.”
“It would probably be best if you watched from a distance,” Wukong advised.
Pensword flew up higher into the sky, and brought a cloud down to an appropriate level, before screeching to a halt. “This good?” he asked.
“... Why do I get the feeling this isn’t going to end well?” Vital sighed as he backed away from the arena. “How far do you want me to go?” he called.
“That should be fine.” Wukong waved his arms around, and calligraphy covered the edges of the arena. “There. Now we can begin.”
Hammer Strike nodded. “This may feel … odd to you.” He sighed as blue fire began to surround his hooves. It traveled up his body, spreading until he was completely surrounded. A small ball of light began to form between the two figures, gaining size and intensity as each second passed. After a full minute of this process, the light had become bright enough to cause the spectators to have to squint. Finally, the light began to draw itself into Hammer Strike. As it did so, his coat began to shine, gaining the same light the more he took in.
A sudden flash left little choice to the spectators as they shielded their faces to prevent blindness. When the light had settled, Pensword blinked back the spots. “Hammer Strike,” he growled, “that was way–.” He broke off, and rubbed his eyes, blinking once again, before staring back at the Pony lord. “Okay. That … can’t be.” His jaw dropped.
“... After everything else you’ve witnessed here in Equestria, Pensword, I’m not so sure you have the right to say that anymore. That being said … dang.” Vital whistled as he peered into the space.
There in the arena’s heart, Hammer Strike stood tall, much taller than normal. His features remained mostly the same: blue eyes, the scars, the missing ear tip. What stood out most was the fact he now had a horn and a pair of wings. He shuddered as he closed his eyes, and placed a hoof to his head. Even from that distance, a Pony could wager Hammer Strike was taller than Celestia.
“You … uh, looks like your coat grew with you.” Pensword chuckled nervously as he gazed on. “Can ... can we come down now?” He looked over to Vital. “And Vital, do us a favor. Go get Grif. NOW!”
Vital Spark winced. “Pensword, I know you’re worried about Hammer Strike here, but yelling at me isn’t exactly helpful. I don’t even know where Grif is.”
“Yeah, and out of the three of us, Grif knows best for what to do here,” Pensword snapped back.
“Pensword, I can’t believe I’m saying this, but chill out. This is probably way above Grif’s abilities anyways. Hammer Strike’s the only one who can manage this. Just have faith that he can handle it. Besides, Wukong’s a lot more qualified than Grif is. If he says he can handle anything that goes wrong, he can.”
“We can both hear you, you know,” Wukong responded as he concentrated on his spells.
Pensword snapped his muzzle shut. His body shook as he struggled to control his breathing. Too many chaotic emotions were warring for dominance.
“Sorry,” Hammer Strike said after a moment. “I ... don’t feel quite right,” he finished, shaking his head. He opened his eyes slowly, then took a look around the arena. His eyes lingered over the empty spaces between his friends and Wukong’s Monkeys.
“Not right as in not healthy, or not right as in just kinda weird?” Vital asked.
“Disoriented,” he replied, then sighed. “Just holding onto the power is enough to cause some … distortion. I can’t tell for certain.” He looked to himself, noticing his changes for what seemed to be the first time.
When the new Alicorn looked up, the arena was positively filled. Beings of all different races and descriptions were gathered around him. He could notice a few familiar faces, though. Death brooded near the back. Fate glared at him ominously. Chance bounced happily between Mother Nature and Father Time. But others, he had no clue on. They observed him with looks of curiosity, rage, malevolence, benevolence, and even lust. Out of all of them, however, one near the back stood out.
He was a large stallion, larger than Celestia or any other Pony or Horse Hammer Strike could think of. His coat was a metallic gray that shone like freshly polished steel. His mane shone like streaks of pure gold and bronze against the sun. Powerful wings were locked at his sides, while a long spiraling horn hung off his forehead. But it was his legs that caught Hammer Strike’s attention most. Eight legs in total lay where a Pony normally had four. Hammer Strike only saw him for a moment. He wasn’t sure how he managed to take in so much detail, but when he blinked, the stallion was gone.
“Every one of them feel it,” Hammer Strike commented as he shifted his eyes to the other figures. “The Primal.” He let loose a quiet chuckle that broke off into a ragged cough as a look of pain crossed his face.
Slowly, the embodiments began to vanish from his vision. Some acknowledged him with nods or other gestures of respect. At least one saluted him with a sword. Two mares who reminded him of luck’s own intangible form blew him a kiss, and gave him a wink, before vanishing.
“Now you be careful with that, Son. It’s not a toy,” Father Time advised as he faded from view.
“Momma wouldn’t want anything to happen to you. And remember to eat better,” Mother Nature commented as she left.
“See you soon!” Chance giggled happily, and then was gone.
Soon all the embodiments had vanished, save one, a taller gaunt Earth Pony. His coat was a pale gray, and his mane and tail were pitch-black, as were his eyes. He wore an old black duster that looked ancient, but well cared for. For some reason, seeing the Pony made Hammer Strike feel cold, forlorn, and sad. The stallion offered Hammer Strike a nod of his own, before turning, and vanishing in a black mist.
“Hammer Strike?” Grif’s voice swam into focus as the Gryphon attempted to get the stallion’s attention.
“Huh?” Hammer Strike shook his head as he focused on his vassal. After a moment, he looked to the others to realise they were all staring in concern. “Sorry about that. I couldn’t hear you. I could barely make out a few voices with everything I can see and hear right now. We were almost surrounded by them: the embodiments, spirits, others even. It’s difficult to focus.”
“Even with the heightened awareness of being an Alicorn?” Vital asked, surprised.
“My body is going through rejection,” Hammer Strike responded. “I’m only holding the Primal, and it’s not turning out well. In order to actually hold and control it, I would need to infuse it into my field.”
“The Primal?” Grif asked.
“I’m sorry, but I refuse to explain.” Hammer Strike shook his head. “Just know that it’s an aspect we will never cover.”
“I have enough divines in my life. I don’t think I want to meddle in that kind of power.” Grif shook his head. “I heard the others shouting, and came to see what was wrong.”
Hammer Strike shrugged. “I’ll live. I just need to let it bleed out of my field.”
“Will you change back when it does?” Grif asked.
“My body must have changed to something that could contain the power. Once it’s gone, I should turn back,” Hammer Strike ended, just in time for another coughing fit.
“You’re sure there’s nothing that can be done to help you?” Wukong asked.
Hammer Strike shook his head. “If someone tries to mess with it externally, it will cause more harm than good.”
“So why did you mess with this in the first place? Feels like you're messing with the atom in some ways.” Pensword stepped onto the ground gingerly, then looked about with wide eyes. “The past has been here,” he muttered. He shivered as a hoof touched a spot. “Holy,” he whispered reverently, bowing as he wrapped his wings around him. “This is the first cave feeling. The first walked here,” he whispered as he sidestepped. “What did you do?”
“Perhaps they felt it,” Hammer Strike commented. “It’s a power so unnatural that some are drawn to it.”
Pensword nodded. “Just be careful.” He fluffed his wings in agitation. “I just got a feeling in my gut, and Matthew’s worried about any side effects we won’t know till later.”
“It’s like Hammer Strike said, Pensword. He just needs to purge his field, and then rest a bit. If I recall correctly, the book mentions that in chapter two or three when it comes to foreign aspects and dealing with them in your field,” Vital said.
“Yeah, but, that doesn’t mean I can purge my worries,” Pensword countered.
“And that’s why you’re such a good friend,” Vital finished.
A few seconds later, another flash of light blinded everyone, and Hammer Strike stood amongst the group, completely back to normal, albeit with a bloodied nose.
“Are you okay to walk?” Grif asked.
“I’ll live,” Hammer Strike replied as he wiped the blood away.
Pensword looked out towards the sea, and frowned as he let the wind blow over his ears to play with his white mane. He closed his eyes, letting his senses push outward. An ear twitched as a familiar voice reached him.
“You know, Trixie, this has to have been one of the most amazing, crazy, and frightening adventures I’ve ever been on in my life.” Vital’s chuckle echoed up the cliffside. “In all this time, I never really expected I’d find someone I liked, let alone that I would date. It’s … well, it’s good. It’s just sort of hard for me, too. I feel conflicted over all this, because I know that eventually, I’m going to have to make a big choice.”
Pensword’s ear twitched as a smirk pulled on his muzzle. He laid an ear on the cloud, and dug out a small peephole, so he could see the conversation without being caught. He spread out the cloud surface with his hind legs, giving just enough extra room for one of his wives, in case they arrived. After all, sharing is caring.
“Trixie knows she is spectacular,” Trixie said dramatically, “but she also knows whatever choice you make will be the right one.”
“Even if that right one means I have to leave Equis and never come back? I’m not saying that’s the right one, mind you. I don’t know yet. But … I mean, if it turns out that way….” Vital sighed as he struck a stray pebble into a nearby tree trunk. “I just … don’t want to hurt you. Maybe … maybe that’s one reason why I’m so scared.”
“Trixie trusts you.” She looked him in the eye. “But this isn’t about Trixie. This is about Vital Spark.”
No.” Vital shook his head ruefully as he turned the jewel on his arm band. In flash of light, a tall man with shaggy blond hair and sad blue eyes sat on the stone with his legs crossed. He reached over, pulled Trixie onto his lap, and began running his fingers gently through her mane as tears ran down his cheeks. “This is about Conor.” He hugged her as he struggled to suppress the sobs heaving in his chest. “And he doesn’t know what to do,” he whispered.
“Sometimes, Trixie has been told that life will not let us know what to do. Sometimes, we must guess at what is right,” Trixie noted as she stared at him with shock.
“And if we guess wrong?” Conor sighed as he leaned back against the cliff face. “What happens then? And what about us?” He then proceeded to facepalm. “And I just realized this is the first time you’ve seen my birth form. Guess who feels stupid now.” He let out a mixture of a laugh and a sigh as he shook his head.
“Have you ever used highly illegal artifacts to enslave a town?” Trixie asked.
“No.”
“Then Trixie doesn’t see why you get to take the right to feel stupid.”
“Because I’m a man, and boys are usually idiots?” Conor rubbed the back of his head nervously.
“Trixie doubts the same logistics apply.”
“Pretty sure Avalon and Lunar Fang would disagree with you on that one.”
Pensword facehoofed as he heard Lunar Fang’s wings. He moved aside to let her settle in, while he pushed her head down to look through the hole.
Lunar Fang bit her lip. “We really need to get him to the next step,” she deadpanned.
“I think he is trying to. He’s just scared.”
“Trixie, some things are just universal. I guess the real thing I’m worried about most is what I’ll have to leave behind, if … well, if I let things keep happening here with Clover, with the guys … with us.” Conor blushed. “It’s times like these where I wish I could just snap my fingers, and make it so I could live both lives. But … as things stand, I don’t know if I’m going to even have a choice anymore. There are things I have to do here, and I don’t know what’ll happen after.” He chuckled. “It’s all just one big, gigantic mess.”
“Welcome to Equis. One big, gigantic mess could be our slogan.”
“It’s still crazy, though. I found out other gods exist, magic is a thing, and that it comes from a completely different source than I was raised to believe, and that’s just the tip of the iceberg. Then there’s the fact I actually got to talk to the avatar of one of said gods, where I once again had my mind blown, and now there’s this, where I’m dealing with being attracted to a Pony, while still having my history as a human clashing with my desires as a Unicorn. Honestly, there are days where I think Eros or Aphrodite survived, and they’re just playing around with my emotions. Either that, or some type of proxy. Maybe some sort of magical embodiment?” He sighed. “Anyways, yeah. I feel kinda under pressure a lot. Learning magic helps distract from it, and so does hanging out with you and the others, but … it’s still there, and sometimes it just has to come out, no matter how hard I try to keep it in.” He looked away, shamefaced. “I’m … sorry you had to see that.”
She wrapped her hooves around him “It’s fine.”
Conor sighed as he held her closer. “I sure hope it will be.”
“So, my friend, let’s see how strong you are.” Wukong smiled at the recovered Hammer Strike as he laid the staff on the ground before him.
“I thought we already determined my strength with the whole sparring match,” Hammer Strike said.
“We determined your skill, but an adequate test of your physical strength? No, not so much.”
“I feel like I’m going to regret this,” Hammer Strike commented as he reached for the staff. His hooves wrapped around the cold celestial metal, and he slowly began attempting to lift the weapon. It proved completely immune to his first attempts. He applied more strength, only to find the bar still refused to budge. More and more, he tried, and more and more, he failed. Finally, in one last attempt, he put all of his strength into it. He felt nothing, but when he stepped back, and looked down, he could see from an imprint in the ground, the tiniest sliver where the bar had indeed budged slightly. The area was so quiet, one could hear a pin drop.
“Well damn,” Hammer Strike sighed.
“Well damn, indeed,” Wukong chuckled. “I think that’s the most I’ve ever seen it move.”
“I think I’ll accept that record.” Hammer Strike gave a soft chuckle. “Who knows? Perhaps I can work on getting stronger, and try again sometime way in the future.”
“That would be something to see.” Wukong nodded as he swept his hand in front of him, and the staff levitated itself into the air, flipping end over end as it shrunk to the size of a needle, and slipped behind his ear. He then turned to address the spectators. “I have tried to figure out appropriate gifts for all of you, and I hope I won’t disappoint you.”
Pensword nodded as he watched Wukong, but remained silent as he and his family floated on a cloud nearby. Naturally, Moon River was being her usual giggling and noisy self, while the boy tried to keep her occupied.
“You don’t have to, Wukong. Your hospitality has been gift enough,” Vital Spark said.
“It is custom,” Wukong insisted. “Now who shall be first? Grif and Hammer Strike already have their gifts,” Wukong noted.
“Well, seeing as Vital is learning the culture and customs, maybe start with him?” Pensword spoke up with a small grin.
Wukong grinned in return. “An excellent idea, brother! Come here, my young friend,” he said as he signaled Vital Spark forward.
Vital gulped as he stepped up, and chuckled nervously as he looked back at his friends, lingering briefly on Trixie, before returning to look Wukong in the eye.
Wukong presented him with a small round ring that seemed formed of some type of metal the Unicorn couldn’t identify. It was silver, but as the light bounced off the polished surface, it seemed to change color and form. Two pieces of ivory had been carved in long ovals equidistantly from one another. “A ring to aid you in your craft. It is not very powerful, but will add a boost to most spells cast with it on.”
“Thank you.” Vital bowed his head as his horn lit up with his magic, and he levitated the ring onto it. “And thanks for the advice, too.”
“And for you, Lady.” Wukong turned to Trixie, and produced a cloak pin of silver carved in the likeness of her cutie mark. “To keep your garment safe and clean.”
“Thank you,” Trixie said, unsure how else to reply as she pinned it to her cloak.
He gestured for Pensword to come forward.
Pensword stepped forward and rolled off the cloud, rolled twice more in the air, opened his wings, and glided around Wukong, before landing perfectly in front of the Monkey. A smile pulled at his muzzle at the sound of Moon River’s cheers.
Wukong reached out, and plucked one of Pensword’s feathers, then waved his hand over it. "And now you have a quill that will write so only those you wish to can read what it has written.”
Pensword’s eyes widened in pain, surprise, and perhaps a hint of awe. “So, when I write, I can send a blank page, and only those that it was meant for can see the words?”
Wukong nodded.
“That sounds so awesome,” Pensword muttered as his mouth pulled open into a grin.
“A skin of my finest peach wine for the lady,” Wukong offered towards the cloud.
Fox Feather landed to take the skin. “It will be amazing when I have it after I give birth.” Fox Feather responded.
“Don’t worry. It is special wine. A glass a day will be good for the child's development,” Wukong assured her.
Fox Feather grinned. “That’s good to hear. I’ll treasure this for the days that it lasts.”
“And for you.” He looked up to Lunar Fang as she descended to join her husband. “A blessing for your son. He will be fruitful in life, and will extend your family tree greatly.”
Lunar Fang bowed, and swept her wings wide. “I thank you for the blessing, and shall keep this close to my heart.”
Then the foals descended, and Wukong smiled as they stood before him.
“Be smart.” Wukong booped Cristo’s nose.
“Be witty.” He booped Inigo’s nose.
“Be skillful.” He booped Day Moon. “And the three of you will be magnificent.”
Then he turned to Moon River. “A seed for you, young one. Plant it somewhere close by, and care for it well,” he instructed as he pressed a peach seed into her hooves.
Moon River looked at the seed, before she realized what it was. “Applejack?” she asked.
Lunar Fang smiled. “Yes, Applejack,” she responded as she helped to stow the seed away, even amidst the multiple squeals of joy the filly produced.
Pensword looked to Wukong. “Applejack is associated with growing trees and fruits and food, so she calls trees Applejack.”
Fox Feather giggled. “You should have seen Applejack’s muzzle when she said Applejack, while pointing at a pear.”
Wukong chuckled as he walked up to Pensword, and patted him on the back. “Your little one has spirit. Treasure her.” Then he leaned in to whisper in the commander’s ear. “Sometimes trees can be powerful things. I see a specter over her shoulder. The scent of the blossoms may be of some assistance, but do not rely on them.”
Pensword nodded his thanks. “I shall rely on all options. And thank you,” Pensword returned. Then he smiled. “This be an excellent way to teach her responsibility as well.”
Moon River looked at the pocket they’d stowed the seed in, and smiled. “Tree is Peachy. Peachy George.” Then she giggled again.
Pensword looked at the seed. “Do you mind if we get some Earth Pony magic to help grow the peach tree?”
“Just don’t let anybody take the seeds. If my peaches go everywhere, they will cease to be my peaches,” Wukong noted.
“Moon River will want a small grove. There will be two at the most: one in New Unity, and a second in the Crystal Empire when she moves there. And your brother Hammer Strike lives in New Unity, so your peaches will be well guarded.”
Next Wukong motioned for Avalon and Shrial to approach. Avalon was the epitome of poise as she stepped forward, holding little Tazeer on her back. The twins peeked out from either side of Shrial’s shoulders as she followed Avalon’s example.
“My dear sister.” He looked to Avalon. “Since we last met, I have thought hard on your craft, and the explanation of how magic works for your species. I intended to send this to you, but since you are here….” He produced a cylindrical red container with gold filigree covering both ends. A golden Monkey formed a clasp that held it closed. “In this scroll are some of the more basic taoist spells from my early days. I think you will be able to adapt them for yourself.”
“Thank you.” Avalon bowed her head respectfully as she took the container in her hands. “Will I also be able to share this knowledge with my husband?”
“That will be left to your choice. This is my gift to you. Use it as you will.”
Avalon smiled then, and leaned in to peck the Monkey gently on the cheek. “Thank you.” Then she stepped back, and Shrial stepped forward, while the twins cocked their heads curiously at the Monkey King.
“And you, my dear. I understand that war is your craft, preferably?” Wukong asked.
“Well … I wouldn’t say it’s my craft, perse, but I am my husband’s second in command.”
Wukong smiled as he held out his hand. With a flick of his wrist, a fan appeared in it. He unfolded it in a sudden swift motion. The design was beautiful to behold. Deep green felt covered the bones of the fan, sewn to them with shimmering silver thread. A ruby-red dragon wove its way across the surface. It almost looked like it was moving. “Beautiful, no?” he asked.
“Is this supposed to be a weapon of some kind, then?” Shrial asked curiously. “You did seem to focus on my history as a warrior.”
“Draw your sword,” Wukong instructed. “See for yourself.”
“Avalon, would you mind taking the girls?”
“Not at all.” Avalon smiled as she walked over to grab the two cubs in either arm as she walked a ways back on her hind legs, then set them down on either side. “Let’s watch mamma, and see what happens, hmm?” she whispered conspiratorially. The girls were a little sulky, but that soon changed when they saw Shrial draw her sword, and enter a combat stance.
“Shall we dance?”
Wukong gestured to her to continue.
Shrial raised a curious brow, then began to circle the Monkey King. Her first strike was swift, but well controlled, more probing than harmful. Wukong batted it away with a wave of the fan. Shrial feinted, then reversed her stroke, coming in from below. Wukong moved the fan as though the breeze wasn’t hitting him right, and batted the sword away again. The fan was completely unscathed.
“Interesting.” Shrial’s beak opened in a grin as her tail twitched in anticipation. “You won’t mind, if I test things a little farther, will you, Wukong?”
“Go ahead,” Wukong offered.
This time, Shrial rained a flurry of blows, one after the other, moving smoothly from stance to stance as she shifted between styles. Overheads, lunges, underneath, divebombs. Each technique was somehow deflected, despite the speed and strength behind the blows. Finally, she stood up on her hind paws, and laid her hands over the pommel of her sword to support her weight. “Intriguing. Is it the fan itself, or is it the user, or perhaps a bit of both?”
“The fan was made by a powerful fox demon I once knew. Its beauty belittles its power.” With that, Wukong tossed the fan at a nearby rock. It dug in, hanging there with the edge cutting into the stone.
“A useful artifact to have in a formal situation.” Shrial grinned as she walked over, and retrieved the fan from the boulder. “My thanks.” She bowed in respect to the warrior, and returned to join Avalon and the girls.
“I don’t think I missed anyone, have I?” Wukong asked as he looked around.
“It doesn’t look like it,” Vital agreed.
“No, you haven’t missed anyone that is here in the meadow. Maybe later I can introduce you to those whom I adopted as children?”
“Perhaps.” Wukong nodded, and a hint of a smile pulled at his lips. “I might enjoy that.”
Extended Holiday Ch 127: The Young and the Nestless Act 19
Pensword stood on the ground next to the Gantrithor’s gangway. He bowed to the Monkey King once more as a sign of respect and gratitude. “Xie xie for your hospitality. Is there some way to avoid these random encounters, or do you like the occasional surprise?” he asked with a chuckle.
“Try to keep them to a minimum, brother,” Wukong said as he returned his bow. “Don’t want Ponies thinking this is some kind of vacation spot.”
“Nor do I, brother,” Pensword agreed. “I have erased any signs of this island on many charts, so no one will even think there is land here to explore.”
“I thank you.” Wukong clasped Pensword’s foreleg at the knee, and held it firmly for a moment.
“It was my pleasure.” Pensword reached out to lay his wing over the wrinkled hand.
“It truly has been an honor, Lǎoshī. Thank you for your kindness, and your wisdom,” Vital Spark said as he nodded respectfully.
“I thank you for your visit,” Wukong offered with a nod.
Hammer Strike gave a soft smile. “It’s been interesting, this last week. I’m glad to have finally met you.”
“And I you. It is rare to meet one with a title who tries to be worthy of it.” Wukong clapped the Pony on the shoulder. “I believe in you, my friend.”
Cosy smiled up at the immortal warrior. “Thanks for letting us stay a while. Your grandchildren really know how to have fun!” He grinned, and waved back at the Monkeys by the cliffside.
“You're always welcome back here, little brother.” Wukong smiled back at him, messing up his mane gently with a hand.
Cosy giggled, before shaking his head to get his mane back into order. “Then I’ll definitely try to come back here soon.” He frowned. “I just wish there was a way to write you letters.”
“I did forget to give you a gift, didn’t I?” wukong asked as the thought occurred to him.
“Making friends with everyone was gift enough for me. You really don’t need to, if you don’t want to.”
“Nonsense,” Wukong insisted as he patted down his body, as though he were looking for something, only for a silk sack to flop lazily out of his sleeve in a comedic fashion. “Ah. There it is.” He offered it to Bellacosa.
Bellacosa took it, and cocked his head in confusion. “What is it?”
“This sack has a shared space with another sack, which I have. As long as it is you putting something in there, it will appear in my sack, and vice versa.” He grinned cheekily. “But it will only work for you.”
“You mean … I can…?” Bellacosa’s eyes widened, and he leapt up to wrap his hooves around the Monkey’s neck. “Oh, thank you, Wukong!”
Wukong didn’t even flinch as he smiled, before taking the young Pony in his arms, and lowering him back to the ground. “You’re very welcome, little brother.”
Cosy scampered back to the gangplank, and cheered as he showed the sack to the other foals.
“I hope you find the knowledge you eternally seek, little sister,” Wukong said as he turned to Avalon. Then he leaned down, and kissed her head.
“I think I will. After all, Grif and I still have to bring back the Winds, and like it or not, I’m pretty sure he’ll need an accomplished Evoker to help.” She winked at the Monkey King. “And will you be saying farewell to your little nephew as well?”
Wukong looked at the Gryphon cub, doing his best to be gentle as he placed a hand on the little one’s head, and rubbed it gently.
“I hope to see you again, my friend,” Grif offered as he and Wukong grasped each other at the wrist, then clapped each other on the opposite shoulder. “Don’t unseat any deities for a while, okay?”
“I’ll try.” Wukong laughed as he released his grip. “Have a safe trip home.”
And with that, they boarded the Gantrithor, and the gangplank slid inwards. Soon the mighty ship was rising into the air, and pointing towards home. Within five minutes, it was small upon the horizon. Within ten minutes, it was barely a dot.
Rainbow Dash looked at the falling sun as she waited impatiently for Fluttershy to exit her cottage. It has been boring the last few days. Wonderbolt practice was on hold while Spitfire talked with Princess Luna about the new bill, and she’d already finished her shift with the Ponyville weather Ponies for the week, earning a nice bonus for her speed and accuracy. So, what better way to let off some steam after a boring day than hanging out with her cool new Thestral friend, who was already her friend before. She bit her lip in anticipation as she kicked her cloud with an excited twitch.
The door to the cottage finally opened as a familiar pair of long, fluffy ears twitched back and forth, before Angel Bunny peered out into the twilight to scan for any intruders. Rainbow Dash had been quick enough to dodge out of the lapine’s line of sight as it turned back inside, and made a series of curt squeaks and other noises, before hopping out properly into the yard .
A familiar voice yawned as Angel Bunny thumped his foot impatiently. “I’m coming, Angel. Remember what we talked about last time. You need to learn more about how to be patient.” Fluttershy pranced out of her cottage with her usual cheer as she leaned down, and nuzzled the rabbit. “Now then, we’d better get the food ready for our nocturnal friends. Oh, and some snakewood for Sylvio.”
“Can I help?” Rainbow Dash asked as she landed loudly on the ground, which elicited a startled squeak from Fluttershy. “Please?” she added as she hopped back and forth between her hooves in a manner that spoke volumes.
Fluttershy sighed. “How long have you been waiting for me to come out, Rainbow Dash?”
Rainbow Dash looked to the sky, back to Fluttershy, then chuckled sheepishly. “An hour.”
“That’s a pretty long time for you, isn’t it? I mean, the last time you waited so long was when you were in line to get the last Daring Do novel at Filthy Rich’s store.” She frowned. “Sorry to have kept you.”
“No problem,” Rainbow Dash said with a casual wave of her hoof. “The Wonderbolts and the Commander have a saying about the military: hurry up and wait.” She laughed. “Besides, I don’t get to see my best friend Fluttershy too much, since Twilight’s spell happened.”
“Rainbow … you usually use that tone when you want something,” Fluttershy pointed out surprisingly bluntly. “Are you really looking to help me with my animal friends today, or was there something else you need my help with after I finish feeding them?”
“I wanted to see how you were doing,” Rainbow Dash replied honestly. “And, well, maybe spend time with you. The whole sleeping during the day thing makes it kinda hard to hang out. That, and I … kinda wanted to see if any of your new friends friends might want to volunteer for night shifts with the weather patrol. Since you guys are always awake at night, it sorta fits. And, uh … heh. Then we won’t have to draw straws every month for who takes night duty.”
“Rainbow, I’ve been spending the last few weeks just getting to know the basics of the basics. I haven’t really had much time to focus on making friends with the other Thestrals yet. Between the classes and taking care of all the animals, I hardly have enough time for my usual tea parties with Discord.”
Rainbow Dash made a face. “I still don’t understand how you can stand it when he takes over your cottage like that.”
“It’s not that much of an inconvenience. He’s actually pretty funny most of the time. He tells the best jokes.” She giggled as she walked off to a storage shed, where she pulled out some freshly smoked fish. “Though speaking of visitors, who’s the new friend you’ve been seeing lately? I can smell him on your coat, so you must’ve met just before flying here.”
Rainbow Dash gave a confused look. “I haven’t seen anyone since–. Wait, you can smellit?”
“Uhuh.” Fluttershy nodded as she flashed her same cute smile. Despite the fact it exposed some of her fangs, that somehow made her look even cuter than before. “Thestrals were made for hunting, after all. I may not be a meat eater, but I still have the enhanced senses.”
“Dang, just….” Rainbow’s eyes darted nervously to either side as she scanned the area. “I can tell you,” she whispered as she zoomed in close to her friend, “but not out here,” she added hastily. “Inside..”
“Rainbow, the last time you acted like this, you were going to tell me how much you liked Daring Do. That doesn’t mean….” She gasped. “You found a colt friend?”
Rainbow Dash moaned, and facehoofed. “Not so loud, okay? I’m already having dinner when his dad and mom get back. Just … please, can we go inside?”
“After we take care of the animals. Then we’ll talk,” Fluttershy said as she tossed a fish Rainbow’s way. “Now come on. Oh, the others are going to be so glad when they hear the news!”
“NO SHARING!”
Grif sat at the table already when Hammer Strike entered the war room. He had a stein of something in front of him, but it wasn’t alcohol, as far as Hammer Strike could tell. The moment he’d entered, Grif locked eyes with him, then hit a button beneath the desk, and the door closed and locked. “So, you want to tell me what happened?”
“What are you referring to?” Hammer Strike asked as he moved towards the table.
“I think we both know what I’m referring too.” Grif took a swig. “Wukong had an interesting story to tell.”
Hammer Strike sighed. “I should have expected he would talk to you about it.”
“I’m not upset. I just want to know. I’m your friend. You can rely on me, you know.”
“I know I can, Grif. I just prefer not talking about it, that damned energy.”
“Do you really think our trust in you is misplaced?”
After a moment of silence, Hammer Strike finally sighed. “Sometimes, I wonder.” He started off quietly. “Between being in that altered state of mind and me being thrown about time, I’m hardly around. After that, our interactions are different or nonexistent anymore.” He placed a hoof on his head. “I’ll be honest. I’ve hidden so much from you all, and you know this, but you don’t know the severity of what I hide.”
Grif leaned onto his desk, and joined his talons together. “Hammer Strike, if Pensword, Vital Spark, or I were captured, beaten, and stuffed in a cell somewhere, what would you do?”
“I’d search, until I could find and rescue you.”
“And if you had no resources? If the enemy has legions between you and us?”
“I’d make a way, by my bare hooves, if needed.”
“What if the threat was me, or Pensword, or Vital?”
“I would find a way to make things right.”
“And if there was no way?”
“I’d … deal with things accordingly,” Hammer Strike sighed.
“That's why we trust you,” Grif said plainly as he settled back into his chair, then took another drink. “Because, in the end, no matter your secrets, or whatever you think of us, no matter the weight on your shoulders, we know that, in the end, you’ll have the plan we need.”
“Yeah…” Hammer Strike’s attention suddenly drifted elsewhere. “Is there anything else you wanted to discuss?”
“Are you okay?” Grif asked him outright. “You seemed to be doing better since the wedding, but you’ve been pushing yourself a lot lately.”
“I’ve seen a lot this last week, and it’s only gotten worse since the Primal.” Hammer Strike gave a soft shudder. “I’ve seen more than any mortal should, and I’m not talking about the dead or the embodiments. I don’t know who I saw, but I felt their power, and I can still feel their gaze watching over me. I feel … tense, nervous, bothered, whatever you want to call it.”
“I don’t know how you do it sometimes.” Grif shook his head. “If he didn’t seem to bear you any ill will, then the best advice I can give you is let it run its course.”
“We’ll see how it goes, I guess,” Hammer Strike sighed. “I’m going to the workshop. I want to take my mind off things for a while.”
“I have an appointment anyway,” Grif said as he nodded, and pressed the button to release the door. “If you need to talk, I’m here,” he offered as he drained the last of his his drink.
“I know.”
It was late on the Gantrithor. The ship cruised through the sky in the calm night air with the ocean churning far below. The deck was suspiciously clear of the usual sentries. Grif had allowed them to head to bed early, so only those looking into the long range equipment were still awake at this point. The moon shone brightly in its bed of stars, illuminating the deck. And so it was that Grif stood in the middle of the night without his armor, and covered in scratches as he stared across the way at an an equally battered Gilda. The two smiled at each other as they panted. Gilda’s progress over the last week or so had greatly improved, and she was now taking Grif on for several clashes a night.
“You're still relying too much on thinking.” Grif chuckled as he ran his talons through his crest. “You're almost there, though.”
“You know how hard it is for me to let go like that, Grif, even if I do have forgiveness.” Gilda scuffed her talons over the wood as she took deep breaths to settle her breathing.
“There’s only us here, Gilda. I’m fast enough to handle anything you can throw at me, even if you lose yourself completely,” he reassured her. “And if you’re really serious about taking Thalia down, you’ll need instinct as much as thought.”
Gilda sighed, then nodded as she set her mouth in a grim line. She shifted her weight into a crouch, and flexed the claws on her padded hind legs in preparation for what was to come. “Again?” she asked.
“That depends. Are you ready?”
“I just … don’t want to hurt you. Well, I don’t mean scratching hurt you, but … you know, hurt you hurt you.”
Grif smiled gently. “You can’t really hurt me very much. I’ve been fighting a lot longer than you, and I have more experience in feral combat. You want to know how I got so good?”
Gilda nodded mutely.
“It’s because I’ve made peace with the beast, Gilda. I’ve already had blood on my talons: the evokers, the ones who would have killed Daedalus, who didkill Kel’leam. I’ve given in to the beast before, but I’ve also met with it, spoken to it, and, as I said before, made peace with it. I am no longer so base a creature that it lives only for blood and war.”
Gilda swallowed the lump that had been building in her throat. Grif was an extraordinary Gryphon. He could manipulate the winds, move faster than most any arrow, and stare down the most fearsome of opponents without flinching once. And yet, he claimed that it was possible for anyone to make peace with their feral side, that it had been done routinely back in his time. She looked at the stern gaze of her teacher, and saw the hardened gaze of a well seasoned warrior. He was confident, calm, … at peace. “All right,” Gilda finally said as she brushed her own purple crest off to the side. “Let’s do this.”
“Before you begin, ask yourself, ‘why do you want to beat Thalia so badly?’ Bring that to the forefront. Create that drive. Make it your center,” Grif coached as he bent low, his claws scraping gently against the edges of a metal rivet . His tail began to sway erratically.
Gilda did her best to hide the blush as she eyed Grif, and followed his advice. She focused on Thalia, on her goal, her current purpose. Her tail began to sway counter to Grif’s as she moved her forelegs probingly, even while her talons clacked against the deck.
In an instant, the two were at each other’s throats. This time, Gilda was much more into the fight. Grif soon found himself sustaining several new wounds in a very short time as she ignored any of the pain he inflicted on her. Of course that only made the beast beg for more, and Grif found himself relenting as the fight became more intense. Grif’s thoughts became fuzzy as he brought out more of his feral nature. The female had to be tested. He had to see.
Still, Gilda proved more than a match as she bit and clawed. They clashed and smashed again, and Grif found himself sustaining further injuries. The beast begged for more, and Grif felt the world get yet fuzzier as he dove deeper. Soon the conscious mind began to feel like an afterthought as the two beasts fought again and again. The last thing Grif could remember was tackling her as the world swam away.
When the Gryphon came to, he was lying on the deck. From what he could tell by his internal clock, it must have been only a couple of hours before dawn. His coat was covered in shallow cuts, and his wings were fully extended, wrapped around something warm … and purring. His eyes widened as he noted the purple-tipped crest and the classic lion-eagle body. He let out a squawk of shock as he got to his paws, and backed away from her.
“Oh, no.”
Gilda purred in her sleep, and tried to snuggle back up to his side, before blinking open her eyes to look around groggily. “Wha–what happened?” she asked in a dazed voice.
“Last thing I remember, we were fighting, and things got more and more feral. When I woke up, we were … together,” Grif noted. “I don’t want to assume, but there are a few things that could have happened, and I think you’ll be the one to answer which one did.”
Gilda’s eyes widened for a moment, and she blushed heavily, before wrapping herself up in her wings as she curled her tail around her body. “So, … the feral side does more than fight.” She tried her best to chuckle nonchalantly. It came out as little more than a croak.
Grif wiped his face with his talons. “I knew I should have had someone observing,” he groaned. “Winds damn it, I’m a married Gryphon! How could I do this to them? How could I do this to you?”
Gilda moaned, balled her talons into a fist, and banged it against her head. “How could I have been so stupid?”
“To be honest, Gilda, this probably wasn’t your fault.” Grif blushed beneath his feathers. “I’ve grown quite fond of you over time. I just hadn’t expected it to be at … that level.”
Gilda broke off. “Wait, you actually like me?”
“Well, yeah, but … wait a minute, that kind of reaction means….”
Gilda blushed violently. “Y-yeah. I, uh … kinda did, too. I guess the question is who initiated it?” She chuckled mirthlessly to herself. “Then again, I guess it doesn’t matter now, does it?”
Grif shook his head adamantly. “I can’t hide this, Gilda. You know that. I’ll make sure you don’t get the brunt for this. You don’t deserve that.”
“You don’t deserve the backlash either,” Gilda countered. “At the very least, you know you have to tell your wives. After last night, it’s the right thing to do. As for the clan….” She groaned. “Oh, Winds, the clan. What are they going to think when they find out?”
Grif flicked her forehead with his middle talon, snapping her out of her spiral. “Hey. We’ll figure this out together.” Then he pressed his forehead gently to hers. “For now, return to your room. Get some rest, and stay there, until I send for you, okay?”
Gilda nodded mutely, and left the deck without a word to slink silently back into her cabin. With her safely returned, Grif turned towards his own quarters, and began a long, slow walk as he prepared for a hard day of explanations.
Pensword banged his head on his desk. The mares were putting the foals to bed, and he was stuck in a nook of a room taking note after note for the spirits. He had hoped they would leave him alone, after they’d left Gryphonia. Unfortunately, while they’d steered clear of Wukong’s island, they came back with a vengeance, once they’d cleared enough distance from the shore. He groaned as he ran through the tally for all the requests, then smacked his head again. “Three hundred beaks.” Even after all this time, and upping the prices to 50 beaks an adult, five per youngling, and free for a cub under five, he still got bombarded. These had only been in the last half hour or so. He shook his head. “I want to be done for tonight,” he finally snapped. “I’m tired, and I need to spend time with my family, understand? We can resume tomorrow.”
“You know, talking to yourself is supposed to be one of the first signs of madness,” Vital Spark said with a teasing smile as he leaned against the door frame on his hind hooves, while folding his forelegs.
“How?” Pensword jumped in surprise, and flared his wings. He turned to another corner, and back at Vital. “How’d you get past all my guards?”
“You did give me the security badge for a reason, Vulpix. Besides, we’re on the Gantrithor, and Caring is always watching. Pretty sure she’d have alerted them, if I was a threat,” he said matter-of-factly. “May I come in?”
“I was talking about my private security,” he snapped as he waved a wing to the empty corner. “And I guess,” he grumbled. “You thought it was funny, Moon Burn?” He groaned, and slammed his forehead onto the desk once more.
“Keep that up, and you’ll be able to break through that desk like Ling does cinder blocks.”
“Who?” Pensword asked into his desk. “Matthew doesn’t know either. Just come in, and sit down in the bean bag chair, or turn human. Just stop standing in the doorway.”
Vital clopped in. “You know, Ling the Kitsune, one of Nanami’s friends?”
“I thought you were talking about a game character, or–.” Pensword muttered.
“Who also happens to be based on the character from Mulan.” Vital chuckled as he leaped onto the beanbag, and settled in. “So, aside from being stuck as a messenger boy, how’s life treating you?”
“Well, other than being snuck up on, and having my heart nearly explode out of my chest, pretty much the usual routine. I am wondering when it will be interrupted. I got my morning exercises, special training, work during the day, evening training and special training, and then bed.” He somehow managed to be heard, despite keeping his head down. “Also, when we go back to Earth, I want models of the Nina, Pinta, and Santa Maria.”
“You’re a real model citizen, Vulpix,” Vital chuckled.
“For which world?” he snarked back.
“Well, that depends on the manufacturing sticker, doesn’t it?” Vital grinned, then stuck out his tongue briefly.
“Ha ha,” he muttered. “So, what brings you to my domain, Vital?”
“Just wanted to visit with a friend is all. It’s been awhile since we were able to just talk alone, you know?”
“True. You’ll have to pick the topic, though. I’ve been at those notes for the last hour, and to use a phrase, my brain is fried.”
“Deep fried, air fried, or rotisserie style?”
Pensword looked up for the first time during the entire conversation. “You … joke,” he muttered. “I ... I don’t know. Just, please…” He chuckled a little. “Whirlwind, stop making faces at Vital. He can’t see you.”
“At least he gets the jokes,” Vital smirked. “And it seems he’s very good at cheering a certain grumpy commander up when he needs it.”
Pensword’s expression flattened. “Whirlwind is my sister,” he deadpanned. “Moonburn is my brother. Iron Pen is my father, Moonbeam is my mother, and then there's Gramma.”
“... And now I’m the one feeling stupid.” Vital chuckled. “Sorry about that, Whirlwind, Moonburn.”
“You do realize they’re going to tease you about this constantly now, right?” He looked to the air above Vital. “Meaning I am going to tell him when you do tease him. No getting away from teasing those that can’t hear or see you.” Whatever it was they did, all Vital could see was a triumphant smirk on Pensword’s muzzle.
Vital shrugged. “I can live with that. After all, I have to put up with you three teasing me on a regular basis, not to mention Murphy constantly trolling me. Oh yeah, and one of the most powerful and ornery Unicorns in history, who also happens to be my teacher. Am I missing anything else?”
“That we all love you, and that if anything did harm you, you’d have the A-Team of Ponies and power backing you up, hunting down whatever attacked you?”
Vital chuckled. “Touché, mon ami.” Then he sighed. “Though you’re not always going to be able to protect me, you know.”
“Then you’d better have learned what we are teaching you.” Pensword smiled, before frowning. “I expect to be the first of our group to go over to the Glens. So, if you show up in my sights before then, I’ll be irritated.” He held up a wing. “Pegasi live the shortest of the tribes, Vital. Unicorns live an easy fifty to seventy five more years than us flyers. Unless Clover teaches you how to extend your life, like she and Starswirl, that is.”
“That probably depends on if I get married here or back on Earth.” Vital chuckled, and shook his head. “Oh the crazy life we lead.”
“Yet, it is normal for us,” Pensword answered. “Oh, you can have a sugarcane stalk on your way out. I would enjoy talking more, but I hear Moonriver calling for her story. I guess I have to bid you goodnight. Sorry I have to end it here.”
Vital smiled. “I understand. Though I’m still looking forward to hearing more of those stories from your clan. We should set up some sort of night, just for us to hang out and talk. I kind of miss doing that, you know?”
Pensword smiled softly. “I think I can do that. Just wait till we get home first, okay?”
“You’ve got a deal. Oh, and don’t forget to invite Storyteller. He likes getting new material.”
“We’ll see, but I don’t want another of his long stories.” He waved a wing at the Unicorn. “Now shoo. Don’t you have Trixie to look after?” He tossed a sugarcane stalk at Vital, which the Unicorn caught in his magic. “Maybe the two of you can share it,” he teased.
“Vulpix, don’t tempt me,” Vital warned, then chuckled as he lifted a second stalk from the dish. “A man never steals a lady’s treat.” And with that, the two of them left, laughing together as they parted ways.
Grif had sent for Gilda with instructions to wait outside his door. It was late that night, and the day had been long and stressful. Grif hadn’t contacted her, but had made sure meals were sent to her room. Apparently, it had been the first time he’d been seen outside his room all day, according to the Gryphon who’d delivered her tray. Even now, the hall outside the imperial quarters was quiet enough to hear a pin drop as she waited.
Gilda didn’t know what to do, so she wore her armor, and stood in the corridor outside the door, waiting. Naturally, the worst scenarios possible were playing through her brain. She may not have remembered anything from the fight, but she was still responsible for what happened. She’d take whatever punishment Avalon and Shrial demanded.
Grif stepped outside of the room, stone faced, but looking less stressed than she’d have thought. His fur was washed, and his feathers preened. Most of his wounds had been treated, if not healed. He looked at Gilda with a cold emotionless face as he motioned for her to sit.
She gulped and slowly sat down on the wooden floor. Worry etched in her features. Her lion tail tapped on the ground in an anxious staccato.
“I have laid my soul bare to them, and confessed what happened. They’ve decided to forgive me, provided such a thing never happens again,” Grif explained. “But for you, they have decided that you have a choice to make.”
“A-a choice?” she stammered.
Grif withdrew a large bag of bits from his pack. It clinked suggestively as he placed it before her. “Your first option is that you can take these bits. There is easily enough here to last you months, if you’re careful. You will stop using the Bladefeather name, and leave as soon as we dock at New Unity. You can go wherever you’d like, but you cannot return to the Bladefeather compound.”
Gilda gulped, and licked her beak nervously.
Next, Grif withdrew a small black box, and placed it on the ground opposite the coins. It opened to reveal a ring. It wasn’t quite so intricate as the rings Grif was given by Daedalus, but it was still of fine make, formed from interlocking wires of bronze, gold, and silver in a vine-like pattern. A gold carving of the Bladefeather clan symbol had been welded onto the front of it. “Your other choice is that you will put this ring on, and join us in the bedroom. If any Gryphon asks you, you are to say we eloped at our last stop. When we head to the Evoker fortress to retrieve Avalon's scrolls, we will stop in the Thestral capital of Ys, and you and I will be married discreetly. However, if you choose this option, then as a punishment, Avalon and Shrial expect you to get pregnant tonight. This is their consequence for your actions. You will also be stuck protecting the nest, until the child is weaned.”
Gilda moved to speak, but Grif held up a staying hand.
“You can’t make you choice, until I leave,” he said sternly. “I will leave this hallway presently, and kiss my children goodnight in their crib. Then I will return to my bed. The choice from there is yours.”
True to his word, Grif gave her a nod, the stone face breaking to show a hopeful smile beneath it, before he turned, opened the door to the imperial quarters, and entered, closing the door behind him.
Gilda sat there in the hallway for a good thirty minutes. She picked the sack up, and tested the weight in her talons, before dropping it to the ground. Then she picked up the box with the ring in it. The debate raged through her mind as she tried to glean the future each item held. The more she thought, the more she found the sack and its options leaving a taste of ash in her beak. She would be able to live off it for sure. At least till she got a better job, but with that caveat, and with how the clanless had been flocking to the Bladefeather banner, she doubted she would be happy, and she could easily become the last remaining clanless in Equestria.
She looked at the ring, and steeled her nerves. Even though she had no clue what was going to come, and despised nest guard duty, it was better than the alternative. And … admittedly, that instinctual part of her stirred when the remnants of Grif’s scent flowed into her nostrils. In the end, she knew what had to be done. She shredded any pride she had left into tatters, and approached the door.
It took two minutes of waiting after her first hesitant tap, before she realized her mistake. Grif himself had said it was her decision. He wasn’t coming to the door. She had to take the initiative. She took a deep breath, then pulled the handle down, and pushing the door open.
Grif’s imperial suite had changed significantly from its initial acquisition. The room had been stripped of most of its finery, which had been sold or distributed to help house and fund the clan. All that remained of the opulence was the gold filigree on the walls. A long wooden table and chairs sat in the dining area, while multiple puffy easy chairs sat in a corner next to a fireplace. Bookshelves lined the walls, and weapon and armor mounts stood in the corners displaying different pieces of Grif and Shrial’s armory. An empty mount had been left bare near the door. She gulped as she removed her own armor piece by piece to lay on the dummy.
When she’d finished disrobing, she padded gingerly through the apartment, trying to ascertain the bedchamber’s location. She clenched the ring box tighter as she pushed another door open to find a hallway lined with doors on one side. The other had a series of bright patches where paintings had once hung. Eventually, she arrived in front of a set of grand double doors. The ornate carvings were a strong indicator just whose quarters lay ahead. It took another three minutes for her to build up enough nerve to open the doors. Her wings and tail dragged along the ground behind her as she stepped forward. The ring now glinted on her finger as she passed through, and then closed the door behind her.
Blood Moon sat at the cafe, waiting patiently. The sun had set, and while he had gotten up early for tonight, he was still nervous. He pondered for what had to be the thousandth time, if this would or even could work. Sure, Pensword had managed it, but he was Pensword, war hero, battle hardened soldier, and all around role model! He was just … Blood Moon. The Thestral continued to fidget as he took an occasional sip from his tea, letting his eyes rove over the streets of Ponyville.
It had been subtle at first: leaving a flower at the mare’s station, getting a dead rabbit in return, solving the mystery of the garden disaster, the fancy perfume from the spa she’d liked. He sighed as he pulled a bright green feather onto the table, and turned it over again and again. “Can I really do this?”
Lighting Dust came without warning. One moment there was no one, the next, she was staring at him pensively as she rested her hooves on the table. A gentle smile pulled at her lips as she noticed the feather. The colt had chosen to wear his dress armor from the war in an attempt to stay formal. Much to Blood Moon’s surprise, he found the same type of armor on the mare.
“I see you got my hint this time.” She giggled as a waiter placed a glass of water and a new teapot on the table, before retreating with the old one.
“I think so. Just how–?” he began.
As usual, Lightning Dust was straight to the point. “I want to be your special somepony. I know back then I would’ve been called a Jr. Camp Follower. Today, we call it a special somepony. I’ll do whatever it takes. I just … well, I want to give us a chance.”
Blood Moon placed the feather on the table, and chuckled. “I am not so naive as to think you should follow my way of living, when I am the one in your time period, though it is nice that you want to try. There’s really just one obstacle we’d have to overcome, before we can, as you said, ‘give us a chance.’” He tapped the Captain’s rank on his lapel with his wing tip. “The Commander needs to be apprised of our intent, both as our commanding officer and the leader of my clan. Thestrals have certain customs that have to be observed in situations like this.”
“Do I need to kill a predator, prove my skill at arms, maybe something else?” Lighting Dust asked.
Blood Moon laughed. “No need to be so hasty, Lightning.” He swept his red mane out of his eyes with a flick of his hoof. Two scarlet orbs stared into Lighting Dust’s. “Then again, that is your character. Even now, you get an order, and you charge ahead like you know everything you need to know.” His smile widened. “It reminds me very much of how I used to be when Pensword first tapped me for the Gryphon Slayers.”
Lighting Dust blushed, and bowed her head. “Well, in homage to the old ways, I’d like it if you wore my feather under your uniform jacket. I checked the surviving military codes. It’s allowable under the laws of divination, so the lover or family member can be located and alerted in the event of the soldier’s death. That being said, you’d better not die on me,” she added with a wink.
“Studying our laws?” Blood Moon chuckled as a mischievous glint shone in his eye. “Interesting. Tell me, Miss Dust, what do you wish to do tonight?”
“Have dinner, talk, and, under the second watch, I want to spar with training swords.” She smirked slyly. “Without our armor. All terrain approved.”
“So, you want to see how we can fight in the sky as well as on the ground?” Blood Moon nodded. “Very well, but training robes are a must,” he countered. “No time limits. Whoever tires out first calls it off.”
“Thinking of getting the upper wing? I got an all nighter draught from Princess Twilight before coming. I won’t be that easy to take down.”
Blood Moon’s smile just grew. “Oh, a planner. I guess some of what Animal Control was trying to teach you actually stuck in that head of yours, after all. Tonight just got even more interesting.” He smirked. “Care to place a wager for the outcome?”
“Sure, but you go first. Then I’ll counter, if I don’t like your terms. A mare has to know what to expect from a stallion, after all.”
“Very well, my fair Pegasus.” Blood Moon chuckled as he gave a satirical half bow. “If I win, then you will have to be my personal porter in my next hunt.”
Lighting Dust grinned. “Interesting choice. Here’s my counter. If I win, you’ll have to skin anything I hunt, and teach me how to improve.”
“In other words, no matter which of us wins, we’re still going on a date?”
“Glad to see you’re learning.”
“You do realize I was one of your main teachers during your probation, right?” Blood Moon laughed. “Come, let’s pick a meal. You eat fish, right?”
“Of course. The Luna Bay Giant Tuna is great. I like it with a side of lemon, apple slices, and parsnip.”
“The wild rice looks good, too.”
“So, are the two of you ready to order?” the waiter asked as she levitated a pad and pencil in his magic.
“Yes, please. We’ll have two orders of the Luna Bay Giant Tuna on a bed of wild rice.”
“A good choice. Would you like that with or without the lunar spice rub?”
Both patrons stared, confused, and the waiter chuckled. “Last time the Princess was here, she tried the fish, and then sent a recipe for her own spice rub to be used only for her, her Thestrals, and … any dates they might have.”
Lighting Dust laughed, then broke off as her ear twitched. She turned to look out over the darkened street, but it was empty. “I feel like I’m being watched.”
Blood Moon’s jovial expression dropped. “We’ll take the spice rub.” As the waiter took his leave, Blood Moon returned his attention to Lightning Dust. “I’ve had the same feeling, but whoever is out there, they seem to be able to evade even a Thestral of my training, and that’s saying something.” Blood Moon scowled. “We’ll let Pensword know when he gets back. This could prove troublesome, if it’s a spy, especially one that skilled”
Lighting Dust grinned. “Then we’d better give them something to talk about. “She flapped her wing, and leaned over the table to kiss Blood Moon on the lips. Blood Moon’s eyes widened in shock. When the mare broke away, he fell flat off his chair, stiff as a board.
“Um, Blood Moon? Are you … okay?”
A slow, dopy grin spreading across his muzzle was all she got in response.
Grif sat in a chair in the bridge. Gryphons scurried around him, checking the ship's various displays and working hard to keep the vessel afloat. Grif paid them no attention as he adjusted the tiles on the jade puzzle box Wukong had given him. He’d been unable to put time into it before, thanks to recent events, but now he’d finally found some time by himself to work on it. He was sure he could already see the pattern, but it was still a matter of making the right movements to bring it out.
Pensword walked onto the bridge, and made a beeline for the viewing windows to look out at the sky. His brow furrowed in concern. “Hmm. looks like a storm’s brewing. The Pegasi are going to have trouble breaking this up, if it makes landfall.” The grin on the Pony’s face spoke louder than words just which side of the Pegasus’ nature was in control. Clearly, Matthew was still enamored over the ship.
“Uh huh,” Grif nodded, but didn’t look up as he worked. “But considering we’re still a good day out from Equestria at this speed, I’d say it’s unlikely.”
“True, true,” Pensword replied as he turned back to face is friend. “Wait, is that a puzzle box? I’ve never seen one in real life.” He walked up to take a closer look. “Looks complicated.”
Grif shrugged. “Wukong gave it to me. He said there was something inside. Must be something good, if he went to the trouble of putting it in one of these.”
“I guess. I wonder what it is, though. You want me to get a beanbag chair, and stay up here with you?”
“Almost there,” Grif said as he worked. “I’ve heard several clicks. I just need to figure out the last few moves.”
“That sounds awesome. I hope you like whatever’s inside.”
“Honestly, I don’t know if I will or not. It’s Sun Wukong. There could be anything in there,” Grif chuckled as the box produced another click.
“So, a true surprise, then. It feels so weird, though, doesn’t it, knowing you got to meet one of your biggest idols?”
“Especially when that idol is a god/demon hybrid.” Grif chuckled, and then the box sounded a final click, and the lid popped open. Grif grinned as he opened the lid the rest of the way, and emptied the box of its contents. A purple silk bag with the yin-yang emblazoned on it clattered into his hand, along with a paper Grif was careful to pick up and unfold. As he suspected, Wukong’s florid script met his gaze.
My brother,
My monkeys found these while searching for oysters near the far shore of our island. Let them serve as a reminder to you that fate may not always be kind, but it can be cheated.
Sun Wukong, Great Sage Equal to Heaven.
Grif picked up the bag, and gave Pensword an incredulous look. “Should we see?”
“I say yes. I mean, he said something about cheating fate. What does that mean? If someone like Wukong says something like that, well….”
Two green objects dropped from the bag into Grifs hand. At first, they looked like simple stones, but a closer examination revealed the green swirling deep inside them in uncertain patterns. One had a dark purple border tracing its edges. The other held a lighter, almost lavender border. Despite the lack of numbers, the twenty flat surfaces covering them made it clear what they were meant to be.
“Polyhedral dice?” Grif looked at them curiously.
“I guess,” Pensword said. “And you have two of them. What does that mean?”
“They seem slightly different at the base,” Grif noted as he gave them a closer look.
“How so?”
“Look at the coloring,” Grif noted. “One’s more of a royal purple.”
“I assume that’s important?”
“I suppose.” Grif shrugged. “Only one way to find out, though. Lets see what they do.” He took the lighter die, and shook it in his hand a bit, before dropping it to the ground. The die skidded across the floor, before stopping a few feet away. The upwards pointing face shone brightly, revealing an alien symbol. It warped and shifted a few times, before finally settling on the number thirteen.
The air above the dice crackled as tines of red and black energy formed a malevolent feeling orb. The orb sucked the die into it with a loud pop. The number thirteen flashed again, this time on the face of the orb itself, and was followed by a metallic clank as something long and narrow slid out from it. A scream tore through the air, followed by a loud pop as the orb vanished. All that remained was a long, thin scabbard and the blade it was attached to. Closer examination revealed it to be a katana. The sheath was made from black lacquered wood with the silvery visage of wings wrapping around it. An angular design of a unicorn like head staring forward fiercely near the top. The guard was shaped with an uncanny resemblance to a certain amulet with wings sticking out to the sides, and an equine head looking to the left, but it was cast in silver this time, giving it a less menacing look. The handle was wrapped in gray skin and white cord with another silver talisman in the same shape as the guard. The pommel was simple silver.
“Is that...?” Grif asked when he pointed to the guard with trepidation.
“Uh, I don’t know, Grif,” Pensword spoke. “What am I looking at? And why did I hear a scream?”
“That guard reminds me of the–AH!” Grif gasped in pain as he wrapped his hand around the handle. It burned, but he couldn’t let go. The pain seared deeper and deeper. He grit his teeth, doing his best not to scream.
“Grif? Grif!” Pensword shouted. He reacted on instinct, taking hold of the scabbard as he tried to yank it out of his friend’s grip. “What the hell is this?” he growled.
Grif was about to give in to the pain, and let the scream fly, when the pain disappeared as quickly as it had arrived. He stood there, panting heavily, the sword still clutched in his hand. It seemed almost to thrum in time with his heartbeat. “I’m fine,” he said between breaths.
“Like hell you are,” Pensword snapped. “Even a foal could see how much pain you were in. Tell me. What happened?” he demanded as he released his grip on the scabbard..
“I felt it, like a fire burning deeper and deeper. I … I don’t know how else to describe it, except, well, I think it burned my soul, if that makes any sense,” Grif told his friend as he drew the blade. It gave off a soft, inviting glow as he pulled it free. The blade was thirty inches of shimmering death. A razor-sharp edge carried all the way to the tip with a beautiful grey himone dancing from one end to the next in waves. Another Alicorn symbol was engraved near the base, followed by two rapidly cooling symbols that had just engraved themselves into the blade.
“Okay, you seem to recognize that. What is it? And what do you mean by a fire burning your soul? If you’ve been hurt there, you should probably have a talk to Hammer Strike.He’s probably the only one that might know how to take care of it.” His face fell. “He can definitely do better than I can at the moment.”
“I’m fine,” Grif promised as he drew a talon across the edge of the sword, “better even. I feel amazing.”
“So first you were in intense pain, and now you feel amazing?” Pensword glared suspiciously at the blade. “Is this a katana? How did it get here? We’re not anywhere near Neighpon. It makes no sense.”
“I can feel it humming,” Grif said. “It’s not like Vigilance or Vengeance. They have their own songs, but this sword is actually humming along in time with me, if that makes sense.”
“Like what, it was made for you? That….” he paused, and his eyes widened. “The dice,” he muttered. “You had two. What happened to the second one?”
Grif opened his other hand to reveal the other die. “I already got the blessing. I’d rather not take a chance with a malediction right now.” He sheathed the blade with a dramatic flourish. He held the sword carefully, and made his way to a chair with bag and die clenched in the other hand. When he’d deposited the weapon, he turned his attention to the die, being careful to return it to its pouch, without letting it fall. Once he’d pulled the drawstrings shut, deposited it and the puzzle box into his bag.
“We’re still talking to Hammer Strike about this,” Pensword stated adamantly.
“Yeah.” Grif nodded as he tied the katana to his sword belt, sliding it between his other blades. “He’ll probably want a look at it, when we get back.”
“You want me to come with?” Pensword asked.
“Yeah. Come on. Let's go.” Grif looked at the startled Gryphons around them. “As you were,” he said in a stern tone, and they immediately snapped back to work.
“And so, now we’re here,” Grif finished retelling the story, mostly to break the silence as Hammer Strike was still going over the sword. His attention was so focused, Grif wasn’t sure he’d heard anything.
“This is such an odd job of soul binding,” Hammer Strike commented as he glanced at Grif for a moment, then back to the katana. “Magic dice aside, it’s an amazing blade, and it feels like it's trying to fight me when I just touch it, so yeah.”
“So this sword will only work for me?” Grif asked.
“Should, yeah,” Hammer Strike nodded.
“Should I be worried?” Grif asked.
“It’s tied to you, so it shouldn’t attack you, unless you undergo significant changes to your soul.”
“And the other die?” Grif asked.
“Probably works the same,” Hammer Strike shrugged. “I’d wager whatever comes out of it will be soulbound, too, if it follows the same pattern as this one.”
“I think I’ll hold onto that then,” Grif noted. “So, as far as you can tell, there’s nothing wrong with the sword? No nasty surprises?”
“Not for you,” Hammer Strike nodded.
“Good to know. It dropped out of that weird red energy portal thing with a scream, so I was worried.”
“It worried me, too,” Pensword piped in. “Screams like that usually mean bad things.”
“I’d suspect a temporary separation of a segment of your soul would be quite painful. Thankfully, though, as far as I can tell, it returned it fully. It just sort of … made a copy to synchronize with?”
“Well, that's comforting,” Grif said as he retrieved the sword, and sheathed it with a flourish. “It’s not quite the same as Vigilance and Vengeance, but it feels amazing in my hands.”
“Well, you are kind of holding a familiar thing to you, since it’s a copy of your soul and all that.”
Grif grinned. “I can’t wait to see what it does on the battlefield.”
“Hopefully you’ll have fun with that.”
“You okay? You sound … on edge. No pun intended.”
“Several things. You also barged in at the time that I was working on something potentially unstable.” He gestured at the table behind them. A small drum barrel had been connected to a large nozzle. A port had been included on the side of the barrel, and a small antenna jutted out at the back with a thaumic crystal glowing at its end.
“Is that a cannon?” Grif asked.
“Better than a cannon, but not quite so insane.” He opened a side compartment to reveal a fire aspect crystal contained within a small chamber. “We’ll need to go topside, if you want me to show you how it works, but it uses a relay connected to the energy network I’ve placed on the ship, and converts the energy to whatever kind of aspect crystal is placed in here, allowing the user to channel it out into a basic elemental attack.”
“So Circlet will be able to handle the targeting, thus freeing up numerous crewmen in the event of a battle?” Grif asked.
“The mounted variants, yeah. This prototype is more for personnel to use, in case of mid to close range proximity on another airship.”
“I’m guessing this is another modification the storm stone cores won’t be able to support?” Grif asked, noting Pensword’s drooling over the cannon.
“These elemental cannons will be way too heavy of an energy drain.”
Pensword continued to gaze longingly at the new weapon. “Heavy trooper weapons. Me like.”
“Well looks like this floating fortress is going to be all the more secure,” Grif chuckled.
“Imagine what the big cannons will look like,” Hammer Strike added as he cracked a smile of his own.
Pensword continued to drool.
“It’s kinda sad. In a world of ballistae and cannons, we’re going to have magic lasers,” Grif laughed.
“Yamato,” Pensword sang.
“We’re not naming every cannon Yamato,” Grif deadpanned.
“But did you not notice the main cannons she had on her upper decks? The laser triple-A guns? She had more than just the Wave Motion Gun,” Pensword chirped back excitedly.
“Pensword, this is my ship. Mine, not yours. You want to name every cannon on your own ship Yamato, that's your business, but not on this ship.”
Pensword facehoofed. “I’m not asking for every cannon to be named Yamato, Grif. I was just imagining it firing off the lasers like the Yamato did in the anime.”
“There are plenty more anime with laser cannons than Space Battleship Yamato,” Grif noted.
“Well, if you’ll both excuse me, I need to continue work on this to ensure its stability, and then make different ammunition types,” Hammer Strike commented to the duo as he turned back towards the cannon.
“Understood. And shall we continue this debate elsewhere, Grif? Because I don’t remember anything else with laser cannons,” the Pegasus replied as he tilted his head in confusion.
“Yeah, we’ll get out of your mane, Hammer Strike.” Grif chuckled. “Just don’t hurt the ship. And Pensword, to disprove your previous statements, I have only this to say: Gundam, Gundam Wing, Gundam Seed, Gurren Lagann, Sonic X–.” Grif continued to list off names as the two left the workshop.
Hammer Strike sighed as the door closed behind the duo, and adjusted his cravat, before looking inside the cannon once more, trying to take his mind off the presence watching over him.
Three days after they’d left Monkeygascar, at noon, the Gantrithor made its final descent into the air dock near New Unity. The Revelrytook up the closest slot, and the Ninalay in the final bay. The other two airships were currently moored nearby, since the docks weren’t built to handle that many ships at once.
“Maybe we should think about starting a merchant fleet, until we get the airship navy properly worked out,” Grif commented to Pensword as they stood on the dock, while the cargo was unloaded.
Pensword stroked his chin with a wing. “I could see that. We’d have a very heavily armed merchant fleet, but I am not giving up those three battleships,” he said. “Why do the Gryphons have a ship named Saint Mary?”
“Mary Annabeth Shrewdclaw. She was a warrior, and a soothsayer in her later years. She held the northern fortress of Maragath for sixty-two years, and was sainted posthumously.”
“Ah. I see.” He paused. “Grif, did I get the crew as well as the ship, or do I need to staff the ships myself?” He shuddered, and shook his head, before muttering, “I’ll ask about Maragath later, Matthew.”
“It’s likely you’ll find a few remnants aboard each ship, those who grew attached to the ship itself, but you're definitely going to need more than a few dozen crusty old sailors.”
“Then I guess it’s time to go recruiting around the shipyards and Thestral compounds.” Pensword groaned. “Also, can you explain about the fortress? Matthew is being very insistent, and I hate being poked with a swagger stick in my head.”
“Not right now.” Grif shook his head. “Maybe when I get back.”
“Where are you going?”
“We’ll be dropping Bellacosa off at the Empire, and then taking a short trip to Ys to discuss personal business with Luna, followed by a trip to the fortress of the evokers.”
“You think we could journey with you to Ys? I need to visit Mountainside Falls. I … I haven’t been there since we came back to the present.”
“We won’t be able to take you back,” Grif warned.
Pensword shrugged. “We’ll travel back to Ys. I’m sure Luna will come with.”
“As long as you know.” Grif nodded. “We’ll be leaving on Friday.”
“Who’s leaving where on Friday?” Vital yawned as he clopped up the pair. A faint blush shone on his cheeks through the fur, and his saddle bags were weighed down with the extra books he’d carried.
“What’s up with the blush?” Pensword asked.
Vital averted his eyes to stare at the other ships. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
Pensword gave Vital a look, then turned to Grif. “Vital, if you were to say that to any other Pony, they’d think you and Trixie made it to another base, but….” He paused. “You haven’t gone too native, have you?”
“... Too native? Pensword, what’re you talking about?”
Pensword gave Vital a look. “Uh … well, when a mare really, really likes a stallion, they have … ways of enticing the male.”
“... Do I even what to know what you’re implying? Because the way you’re talking, it sounds like mares use date rape drugs to get the stallions they want.”
“Heat, Vital Spark. Either the real deal, or one chemically induced to mimic the same effects,” Pensword snapped, facehoofing.
“And that really drives stallions to the point of overriding their reason?”
Pensword just stared blankly at Vital. “At times, yes. I ... I can’t believe I am having this conversation with a fully grown stallion. I am literally having the talk with you, and you’re one of my best friends!”
”Hey, it’s not like I don’t understand the reproductive cycle. I just didn’t know about heat. Well … I didn’t think much about it, anyways. I guess I’ve just been lucky enough not to catch any mares in the middle of it.”
“Guys, this may be a conversation meant for closed doors,” Grif noted. “Also, yes, Pensword, Vital Spark spent the night in Trixie’s room.”
“Griff!” Vital Spark’s blush intensified.
“I keep good surveillance on my ship,” the Gryphon said casually.
Pensword seemed too fixated on Vital Spark’s naivete to register what Grif had just said. “Well, I guess we should give you the talk, then.” He sighed, and rolled his eyes. “Behind closed doors, of course.”
“Last thing we need is half of Ponyville's single mare population knocking on the drawbridge for child support,” Grif chuckled.
“Grif, not funny,” Vital deadpanned.
“Or perhaps we should have Trixie claim him as her stallion?” Pensword asked with a teasing smile. “But yes, forewarned is forearmed.”
“Vital, the only reason there aren't twice as many ponies as Gryphons on the planet is because of our shorter pregnancy periods. Trust me. More resolute stallions than you have had this problem in history.”
Vital groaned. “Great. Does that mean rutting is a thing here, too?”
“There are chemical suppressants and spells to mask it, but generally, yes. As I understand it, for Ponies, it is a thing.” Grif smiled. “I wouldn’t worry too much about Trixie, though. I think she’d rather go for the heart first, and get the body with the package.”
“Anyway, let’s hold off on this class until tonight,” Pensword quickly interjected, even as Vital’s horn began to hum.
Vital huffed angrily as the blush in his cheeks intensified yet again. “Fine. We’ll talk later. Right now, I need to get as far away from a certain snide Gryphon as I can, before I do something stupid.” He made his way over to the gangplank, and stomped towards the dock. “If you need me, I’ll be at Clover’s.”
“Guess it’s still a touchy subject.” Grif chuckled again. “That’s going to be one heck of a wedding.”
“Well, he did have an eye on a certain fiery mare on probation,” Lunar Fang noted as she walked from around one of the boxes on deck.
“So, I should plan for two, then?” Pensword asked.
Vital’s scream of rage echoed up from below as a blanket of snow dropped all at once on the deck with a loud fwump.
Extended Holiday Ch 128: Next Time on … The Apprentice! Act 20
Pensword looked across from his desk at Lafayette. “So, how was the base while we were gone? Did anything bleed over from Ponyville on Tuesday?”
“Everything was magnifique,Commander. The monster problem was dealt with swiftly, and without incident. However, the scouts are requesting permission to extend their mission by another six days.”
“Mission? I didn’t assign them any missions before leaving. What mission are you talking about?”
“They were scouting the perimeter of the forest to determine locations that required further fortification; however, they claim to have picked up some type of trail, and wish to see if it is hostile.”
“Very well, but I want more guards on the trail as well. Get a supply train further in to follow them. I want to give the scouts support, in case something happens.” He shivered. “I do not want to upend another of those spider nests.” He paused. “Actually, contact Hammer Strike. See about him releasing the rest of the mercs to follow, and take care of anything that might be found by the scouts.”
“It will be done, Commander.” Lafayette gave a low bow.
“Good. Now, you will still be in command for the time being. I have been putting this next trip off for a while, but I can no longer afford to do so. I … I am going to see the origins of the Demon. Keep up the good work. The reports I’ve already seen show you have a good grasp, and … I see you worked on the memorial garden as well. Do you think it’ll be finished by spring?”
“You do me far too much credit, Commander. The people you have here have been very welcoming. It is only with their help that I have accomplished what I have.”
“Those are the signs of a good leader. A good commander listens to those who have been around longer than they have. He or she doesn’t rock the boat too much, and makes sure orders are able to be carried out.” Pensword chuckled. “Besides, folks trust you.”
“I am honored, Commander.” Lafayette gave another bow. “I must be off. I have the watch on the south wall tonight.”
“... And that’s when Aria here decided to break free from her shell,” Vital Spark finally finished as he fed the chick another morsel of meat. “I figured you’d want to see her as soon as possible. The fragments of her egg shell are over there, if you want to examine them as well,” he said as he motioned to a glass jar that had been frosted over on the inside.
“Well, good job,” Clover said as she took the jar in her magical grasp. “This will prove interesting for my research.”
“Just don’t use all of them, Clover. I’d like to hang on to a few pieces, just in case. You never know when you might need a powerful reagent like that. Isn’t that right, Aria?” he asked as he stroked the chick’s feathers. It had been such a short while, but the cryophoenix was maturing at a rapid rate. She already seemed near ready to fly. She trilled in pleasure at the attention.
“Don’t worry. I’ll just use a few for now,” Clover assured him. “Still, now that you got it to hatch, you can work on training her to boost your magic when you need it.”
“You mean like a familiar?”
“Not quite, but a similar relation. Phoenixes tend to bond to their masters, and thus there can be a latent magic bond between them. The fact that she is a cryophoenix means this could prove highly beneficial to you.”
“Wouldn’t that hurt her at this stage?”
“I didn’t mean actually performing heavy magic draining actions yet; simply going over the basics.”
“Not sure if I’m comfortable doing that to her just yet. I mean, she is only a couple of weeks old.”
“It never hurts to know the fundamentals,” Clover told him as she began levitating books over.
“I’ll read up on the theory. Still not going to focus on teaching her that just yet, though. Anyways, what’s been happening over here?” he asked as he opened the first book, and began perusing the table of contents.
“Not a lot. The guard have been running their drills, and students have been barely making it past the basics.” She sighed.
“Seriously? I thought they would’ve gotten further than that by now. Didn’t Shining put the fear of Faust into them?”
“Miss Sparkle has been a disruptive influence,” Clover admitted tersely.
“... Say what now?” Vital cocked his brow. “How would she be disruptive? I thought she was more eager than anyone to learn more about combat magic.”
“She is constantly subverting me when I am assigning reading material, despite my reminders that Star Swirl did not invent magic, nor was he the only one who was good at it. She consistently insists that they should be reading his theories on magical concepts and treatises when, as I’m sure you recall, his writings don’t work well for just anyone. Not to mention what I’m assigning is the original concept written by the original mages who discovered them, not by his shameless grabs for credit!” A loud clap sounded as she slammed a book shut in her magic.
Vital winced. “Ouch. Have you considered threatening her with barring from your course? I mean, Unity is technically Hammer Strike’s domain, and he’s put you in charge of teaching the mages. If she’s interfering with that, you probably have the authority to act.”
“Unfortunately, there are very good reasons why I don’t want to cause that kind of trouble, reasons that are my own. And I am not at liberty to talk about them right now.”
Vital shrugged. “Fair enough. Do you … maybe want me to talk to her? Just as a friend, I mean. I’m usually pretty good at convincing people to see the others’ perspective, or at least to listen somewhat.”
“If you can. I swear, half the Unicorns in my class don’t even get the first paragraph of Star Swirl’s notes.” She sighed. “If he were here right now, I’d strangle him.”
Vital chuckled. “Well, if you want to, I could point you towards a glamour he left behind. That might be a start.”
“Unfortunately, that’s not quite as satisfying,” Clover sighed. “Just remember, Vital. Most people here only know Star Swirl based on records from the past. And who do you think wrote most of those records?”
“Tribalist Unicorn scribes?”
“Mostly Star Swirl personally, unfortunately. And he was far from humble.”
“Headstrong? Didn’t really listen to what others had to say? Always insisted he was right, and every other option was wrong, because he didn’t come up with it himself?”
“Have you ever heard of Somnambula? Rock Hoof? Mistmane? Flash Magnus?”
“Can’t say that I have. Then again, I’m not exactly the best Pony to ask about that either. You already know why.”
“At best, most Ponies think they’re myths and legends from the past. They should be as famous as Star Swirl himself,” she groused, before adding another book to Vital’s pile. “Mistmane’s primer on healing and nature manipulation.”
“Ooh! I’ve been wondering when I’d be able to learn more advanced healing magic. Celestia only taught me the basics.” Vital grinned. “And if their stories are interesting enough to be recorded in legend, I can’t wait to read up about them.”
Clover gave a sad smile. “You’d have liked her. She was a generous mare, always giving, no matter how badly it cost her.”
Vital frowned in turn. “You’re right. I would have. I used to know someone just like that once.” He sighed. “We had a lot of happy memories together. She’s moved on to a better place now, though.”
“You get started on those. I’ll go see what else I can dig up,” Clover told him as she turned and stalked deeper into her bookshelves. Vital could almost swear he saw the tiniest glint of light streak to the floor as she left.
Hammer Strike was at his desk when he sensed something from the window. A moment later, Derpy landed in her mailmare uniform, and smiled. “I have a letter for you, Lord Hammer Strike,” she said in her adorable tone as she reached around, and opened her satchel. She nosed around inside it for a time, then withdrew her head with said letter clenched between her teeth. Finally, she walked up to the desk, and dropped it onto his paperwork. Hammer Strike glanced upwards, and noticed a shiny new badge on her uniform.
“I’m your official mailpony by royal decree,” Derpy explained as she followed his gaze. “Twilight’s, too. That means I can help Dinky with her hobbies now, andI don’t have to worry about rent.” She grinned. “So, thank you.”
“That’s wonderful to hear.” Hammer Strike gave a soft smile. “Everything still stable in Ponyville?”
Derpy gave him a confused look. “Ponyville is always stable.” She giggled. “We just adapt to handle the crazy.”
“Kinda what I meant.” Hammer Strike shook his head softly. “Anything else of major importance?” he asked as he opened the letter.
“Well, Twilight’s talking about digging underground at the old fort to build more labs. Mayor Mare is working on setting up the Winter Wrap Up teams for the year. The flower sisters panicked, because one of the new weather Ponies let a little too much snow fall overnight. So, I guess it’s just the same old thing so far.”
“That’s good.” He nodded as he began reading the message. “That should be all. Have a safe trip back.”
“Do you have any mail you want me to deliver for you?”
“I just got back recently, so I have to run through things, in order to have proper responses sent out.”
“Sounds good. I’ll see you later.” She smiled, turned towards the window, and took off through it, leaving not a single paper out of place in the office.
Dear Hammer Strike,
I am writing to inform you that I have completed my current obligation towards my publisher, and therefore am free for the next few months to look into the matter for which you have requested my services. Please be aware that I am heading to the Canterlot Archives, and from there, I will attempt to find leads in regards to your query. I’ll be in touch, should I discover any relevant information.
Sincerely,
A.K. Yearling
“That at least settles that,” Hammer Strike commented to himself.
A scroll appeared in front of Hammer Strike in a cloud of blue smoke. The seal indicated it came from Pensword. After taking a moment to put Daring’s letter away, he reached over, and unrolled the message.
To Lord Hammer Strike,
To be filed in the offices of the head planner:
This is to verify and assert authority in the Thestral quarters to construct a set of airship docks to house and supply up to six warships, four of which have been hovering around the area, namely the Revelry, Nina, Pinta, and Santa Maria. Under clause six of the quarters laws, I am allowed to expand necessary buildings as needed. Please respond as soon as you are able with the necessary documentation.
Signed,
Commander Moonkissed Pensword.
Another scroll was behind this one.
Hammer Strike,
I hope that letter is of the correct tone and information for your files and the city archives. That being said, please help. I don’t know how to build an airship dock, and considering our rate of expansion, we really need more docking ports. Any advice?
Pensword
Hammer Strike gave a soft chuckle as he read the message. He put the scroll off to the side as he looked to the map to figure out dimensions and scaling of the land, and where things were located. After some calculation, he pulled out a blank piece of parchment, and began drawing some designs.
Pensword stood outside the Thestral quarters as he looked about the area, then up to the castle walls. He scanned over the longhouse and the beginnings of the fortifications being built around it. He knew the Pegasus Hall of Paragons was still under construction on the other side of New Unity, and couldn’t help but chuckle at the symbolism of the inadvertent placement. The sun would rise and touch the Hall of Paragons first, then set on the Thestral longhouse. Then the Moon would rise to touch the longhouse first, and set on the hall’s side.
A moment later, a scroll appeared in front of him with Hammer Strike’s seal. Pensword broke it, and looked over its contents, before grinning at the paper that had been attached inside. Hammer Strike had accepted the request, and even gone so far as to incorporate a moon and star motif into the design to denote the docks would be Thestral owned. He walked over to an observation table, one of the architects had left behind, and laid the scroll across it, placing rocks at the corners of the paper as Thestrals gathered around.
“Okay, everypony. Here are the first plans for the docks. I’d like for us to begin tonight. That means we need to split our builders. Half will continue to focus on building the fortifications. The other half will assist with executing the plans. We want to have the first dock up and operational by the end of the week. You think we can do that?”
“Does the moon shine?” one of the Thestrals asked, and everyone laughed.
Pensword smiled gratefully, then returned to take a closer look at the plans. “Actually, we have to move a little more to the north.” His eyes widened. “Apparently, we’re in charge of the merchant docks as well. So yeah, House Pen has a merchant dock writ on top of our military airship docks.” This time, it was his turn to grin. “Well, come on, then, let’s get building!”
Night Terror gazed with some confusion. “Um, aren't we still on New Unity lands?”
“Yes, and that means that while we pay taxes to Hammer Strike, we can charge docking fees, storage fees, fees for use of the future marketplaces to be set up. Frankly, this authorization will be a large economic boon for us. And to top it all off, it will force those elites in Canterlot to deal with Thestrals, if they wish to sell their goods in New Unity,” Night Coin, a Thestral with a full moon with the symbol for a bit inside it as his cutie mark, replied.
Night Terror just looked at the empty land. The Thestrals had been working steadily to clear it away for some time now, even before she’d arrived. With all the empty space available, it was a simple matter for the architects to start marking out the outlines for each of the buildings. A quick glance at the plans revealed not only docks, but housing and warehouses for workponies. “So, you plan on having all that done in just a month?”
“Oh no, lass,” Night Coin chuckled, “We plan to have the military docks, and two merchant berths done in a week. In two weeks, we hope to have the first of the warehouses built. Once we’ve got those up to code, we can focus on the rest.”
“You can really work that quickly?”
Night Coin chuckled. “You’ve seen us in the hunt, lass. Just watch what happens when we craft.” Then he winked at her.
Pensword nodded, and grinned. “The first warehouse will be a monument to Thestral craftsponyship, made completely from stone quarried, blocked, and mortared by our own expert hooves. As I’m sure you’re aware by now, little Terror, stone is a specialty of ours.” He turned to Night Coin. “I’d rather we reduce the monetary risk a fire could bring.”
“Couldn’t agree with you more, Commander,” Night Coin beamed.
“Oh, Moon Trestle!” Pensword called.
“Here, Sir.” A Thestral mare with a wild green mane and glowing yellow eyes smiled as she offered the commander a bow. Her coat was a rich navy blue that shone glossily in the moonlight.
“Excellent. I want you to set up a meeting with the Dwarf representative in New Unity. We need their metal for the docks. Tell them we’re willing to trade one minecart of onyx, one minecart of blue volcano glass, and one minecart of obsidian for their assistance.” He frowned. “If that isn’t enough, let me know. And find out if they like Thestral jewelry, dream catchers, or anything else we can make.”
“Of course, Sir.” She left in a flurry of wings to glide towards the castle wall. The other Thestrals began to fan out, joining their fellows to assist in surveying the grounds, while others flew off towards the Ghastly Gorge to see about securing the routes they’d need to begin the work.
Pensword looked to Night Terror, and smiled kindly. “Come. Let’s retire to the longhouse. I would like to hear what you’ve learned while I’ve been away.”
“Aren't you going to help out here with the building?”
“Are you kidding? I would just get in the way, and make more of a mess, if I tried to help.” He chuckled, and shook his head. “One of the most important rules to being a good leader: be humble enough to know when to step back, and let the experts do their job.”
Grif awaited Pensword on the training yard. The Pegasus was making progress in his physical training, but was still somewhat behind thaumically. Grif was sure he’d figured out one of the factors that was hobbling his friend, but he needed to be sure. He practiced stances, and fluid strings of attacks with his new blade. The katana shone and flashed in the sunlight as he moved, and he was certain he could feel the wind itself divide on the razor edge.
A few minutes later, Pensword entered the training yard, wearing nothing but his fur and feathers. “I am here.” He sounded happy.
“Good,” Grif said as he sheathed the blade. “Now let's start with something simple. Make a crystal for me.”
Pensword didn’t even close his eyes as he extended a wing, and concentrated. Grif sensed the Pegasus’ thaumic field shift and move, and watched as the crystal took shape, before falling into the support of Pensword’s feathers. The crystal itself was cylindrical in nature, with two sharpened points on either end.
“There’s the problem,” Grif said, shaking his head. “You need to stop doing that.”
“Doing what?” Pensword asked.
“You're pulling the energy through your body to your wing to make the crystal. That’s two major mistakes.”
“Then why didn’t you say anything till now? You’ve been watching me do the same thing ever since I started using my field in the first place.”
A blast of wind proceeded to hit Pensword, powerful enough to make him step back. Grif hadn’t so much as blinked. “What are the rules to channeling thaumic energy?” Grif pressed.
“I … I don’t know. I know my field is weak, and I didn’t want to pull from myself to weaken myself. And I was told this was a good way to get it going, since air is all around us.”
Another blast of wind hit him. “How does the thaumic field exist on your person?” Grif pressed. “What form does the energy generally take?”
“A small layer around us.”
“So why, if it is a layer around you, would you need to pull energy from one place through your body to another, when the energy you need already exists in that area to begin with?”
“Because I liked the feel along my wings, and I was using it to strengthen my field faster. The strain along my wings and back was harder. I figured it would get my field up faster.”
Grif shook his head. “All you’re doing is wasting potential energy. You’ve been cutting your gains in half, and you get very little for the end result. You need to will the energy from the point of origin. Otherwise, all you do is develop a habit, and form an arbitrary rule for yourself that causes you to spend more energy, while doing more harm to you than good.”
Pensword gaped, then sighed. “Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize, Pensword. Improve. Now try again. This time, make a crystal by willing it into existence at that point. No channeling. Remember what I said, and make it happen. Try making one at the tip of your muzzle.”
Pensword lowered the crystal from his wing gently to the ground, then crossed his eyes to look at the tip of his muzzle. He focused, gathered his will, and let it go. Much to his surprise, the crystal appeared almost instantly. Its was twice the size of the last crystal, and spherical in shape. A series of spikes jutted out from it, making it look more like the end of a mace than a crystal. He cut off the flow quickly. “Woah!” he gasped as he caught the ball with both wings. “That … that was a surprise. I … that went faster than I’m used to. I haven’t made something that big accidentally for at least two months now.”
“It’s easy to set arbitrary rules for yourself,” Grif said with a shrug. “I know I’ve done it more than a few times, but believe me, that can lead to a lot more pain in the future. From now on, I want you to make three crystals a day at random times and random places on your body. The next time we have a lesson, I want to see you able to call up the energy without much effort.”
“I will do so on one condition. It will be random times, when I am alone. I will not do so in public or around others. And this will be on top of my own training in morning and night of six crystals at front hooves, wing tips, and ears.” He paused as his left ear twitched. “So, Grif, question. How many aspects do I have? I know I have air, water, and spirit. Do ... do I–can I create anything outside those aspects?”
“If the proper aspect is available,” Grif explained. “Some are harder to grab onto than others. My aspect field is earth, chaos, and wind, but there’s plenty of aspect energy here.” He opened his palm, and the air above it seemed to distort for a moment. Then a small shining slightly yellow diamond plunked into his hand. “And voila, lux, the light aspect.”
Pensword looked at the crystal as it shone in Grif’s talons. “So, you want me to try that? Maybe I can try a moonlight version,” he mused.
“Is the moon out?” Grif said sarcastically as he look into the sunlit sky. “I thought it was still daylight a minute ago.” He looked to Pensword again. “Unless lux is in your aspect field, it’s easier to stick to what's available. You’re not ready for creating it yet.”
“Ah, well, maybe I can try later tonight, then. Still, just to clarify, you want me to make a lux crystal now as well?”
“I want you to try and see what's present in your environment, and make crystals from aspects not in your field: stone, light, fire, if it’s available. Your field should be like your sword, but the environment should be your quiver. Knowing what's around you could save your life.”
“Okay, I will keep that in mind, and, you’ll tell me what crystals?” He paused as he held out his wing, and furrowed his brow. Two crystals appeared in his wing time this time. Grif could tell one of them had been channeled like the first one Pensword had made earlier, but two solid aspect crystals were now cradled in the Pegasus’ wing: a lux crystal and an earth crystal. Pensword panted slightly as he proffered the crystals. “Sorry about the pull, but that was the only way I could get stone to appear at my wing tip this time.”
“No it wasn’t,” Grif chuckled “but I’ll let it slide this once. You did well. Just remember, the aspect needs to be present. You don’t need to touch it to form it into a crystal.”
Pensword placed the crystals down, and looked at Grif as he tried again, creating another earth crystal. Pensword sat down smartly as his breathing became labored. “Woah, I … okay, I know what I am going to be doing now. Just … I better bring some stone with me while traveling now.”
“Go take a break. I have to meet with Hammer Strike. Tomorrow, I’ll teach you how to disperse thaumic crystals safely.”
“Understood. A small power nap, and then I need to run around the ramparts,” Pensword replied with a tired smile. “Gotta sharpen all my claws.” He paused. “You got time tonight before you turn in? I need to share something with you.”
“I’ll let you know. Hopefully, but I make no promises.” And with that, Grif took to wing. A moment later, Pensword followed his example, but turned back towards the castle to reach his personal quarters and the bed that called for him.
Twilight smiled as she placed the last book away on its shelf. Her reorganizing of the Golden Oaks Library had gone swimmingly, and she felt relaxed and rejuvenated. Spike sat on a chair nearby, his legs dangling as he fussed with his crest. The spines had been itching like crazy lately, and a hint of a point had begun to form at their edges. His babyish face had begun to take on a slightly angular definition as he passed a silver coin idly between the claws of his free hand. A comic book sat open on the table before him. Finally, a knock sounded on the door.
“That’s odd. I could’ve sworn I turned the sign to closed for the re-cataloguing,” the princess mused.
“It’s probably Hammer Strike or one of the others. You heard the Gantrithor when it came in,” Spike said with a shrug as he turned another page in the book, before letting out a frustrated growl, and scratching vigorously at the base of his spines, yet again.
Twilight sighed. “If you keep going like that, you’re going to pull your scales off.”
Spike seemed too frustrated to really say much to that, so Twilight returned her attention to the door. She opened it, and smiled at the sight of the familiar white Unicorn. “Vital Spark! Welcome back. What brings you to the library today?”
“A bit of business, and a bit of pleasure.” Vital chuckled. “Equestria didn’t fall apart while we were gone, did it? No evil villains, no takeover attempts, no strange happenings?”
Twilight giggled. “Nope. Just the same old Ponyville. Though Spike’s been dealing with some … let’s call them growing pains.”
Vital quirked an eyebrow as he looked Spike’s way. The young dragon shook as he clung both arms around his sides to try to wait out the irritation. “I see what you mean. Have you tried Meadowbrook’s anti-itching cream?” Vital hovered an ornate book covered in Eastern Pony characters. “It’s right here in Mist Mane’s book on healing potions and magic.”
Spike moaned as he pulled his tail onto his lap, and started scratching over the spikes at their base. “I’ll take anythingat this point. Just make it stop. Please!”
“Sounds like we’re going to need to make a trip to Zecora’s place,” Vital said as he chuckled, then smiled sympathetically. “She’s likely to have the ingredients we need on hand. And while we’re on the way, Twilight, you and I need to have a little talk.”
“On what?”
“Twilight, I’m Clover’s apprentice. She talks to me about a lot of things. What do you think I’m here to talk about?”
Twilight rolled her eyes. “Vital Spark, you’re not going to get me to budge on this. Star Swirl is the most brilliant mage to exist in Equestria’s recorded history,” she said as she levitated a set of saddlebags onto her back, and began to stuff them with supplies.
“And I’m not going to debate that point,” Vital Spark said as he cast an ice spell down Spike’s back. The Dragon shuddered, then sighed in relief as the itching dulled. “However, you’re forgetting a rather important fact.”
“And that is?” The pair of them strolled out the door with Spike in tow as he read happily from his comic book.
“We’re not students from Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns. We can’t read old Ponish, and even if we could, we can’t exactly crunch all those numbers and formulae you and Celestia are able to handle so easily. If you want me to put it in more relatable terms, think about foals. Do you start feeding them solid food right from the get go?”
“No, but–.”
“They need time for their bodies to develop, before they can handle it, right? Their teeth need to grow in, their digestive system needs time to become stronger, and their immune system needs to reach a point where they can take in foreign substances without risk of infection. Like it or not, Twilight, the same principle applies for students in the magical arts. We need the milk before we can move on to the greens.”
“You know, he is making sense,” Spike pointed out as he flipped to the next page in his book. “I can’t understand half of what you’re saying sometimes, when you get into one of your magical idea moments, and I’ve lived with you my whole life.”
“But … but….”
“And, if I might point out, the spells you’re trying to have the rest of the class learn aren’t exactly combat oriented. Most of them are guards. They need spells for their chosen line of work. Why else do you think your brother worked with Clover to create a prescribed list of references tailored to combat instances both civil and non? Are you saying your brother, the last Captain of the Guard, the one who was, by far, the most skilled of all the Guard in Equestria, is wrong?”
“Now that’s just not fair,” Twilight complained.
“I pray you and Grif will both forgive me, but,” he cleared his throat, “excuuuuuuse me, princess. Nobody gives a buck.”
Twilight gasped, and her eyes began to water. Spike covered his mouth with a clawed hand.
Vital turned, and laid a hoof on the princess’ shoulder. “Look, Twilight. Sometimes we’re wrong. And as a guy who’s literally had his flank handed to him what has felt like thousands of times by Murphy, and just about everypony else at New Unity, I can tell you from experience that it’s okay to be wrong. What matters is that we’re willing to admit it when it happens, and move on with what we’ve learned.” He smiled kindly. “And you can pen that lesson to Princess Celestia, if you want to. It’s a valuable one to keep in mind.” He levitated a handkerchief out from his own saddlebags, and dabbed at Twilight’s eyes and cheeks.
“I’m … going to have to apologize to everypony, aren’t I?”
Vital chuckled. “Probably, but knowing how much everyone loves and respects you, it’ll pass, and everyone will be able to look back and laugh. Now come on. I think Spike’s suffered long enough. Let’s see about getting that cream for him, before my ice melts the rest of the way.
Hammer Strike hummed to himself as he turned another page in the book before him, taking in the Latin script describing further power of thaumaturgy. He needed to re-evaluate the power between the group in order to determine further progression for each of them.
Grif let himself in, deciding that the Pony lord probably was about to stop him from knocking, anyway. It’s not like this was a surprise visit, after all. Hammer Strike had scheduled the lesson.
“Sorry I’m late. I finally managed to get Pensword around that hurdle we talked about,” Grif offered.
“Good,” Hammer Strike replied as he finished reading the page, before looking up to Grif with glowing eyes. “Hold still for a moment, and let me gauge this,” he said, glancing back at the book again, then back to Grif. After a few glances, he began muttering his thoughts aloud. “Terra, Entropy, and Aer,” he hummed, turning a few pages back in the book.
“Yeah, it’s been that way since the evokers broke my field during the war. Why bring it up now? Is something wrong?”
“The opposite, actually.” Hammer Strike shook his head. “The strength of your field is actually at a stable level that could use some strain in order to progress further. I’m not saying you need to practice making crystals more, or that you need to try different aspects, but that your field is able to take on a passive aspect, such as the three I mentioned earlier.”
“Is it safe? I mean, I did die last time.”
“Your field at the time was unable to handle the third aspect. That’s why you had such a violent reaction,” Hammer Strike explained. “Now, however, it’s been growing in power steadily, and has reached its own capacity limit. I can help push things further, but this is a significant choice for you to make. What aspect, of the list you know of, would you like to have added? If you want to know about what they would do to you as a passive, I can give you a general idea.” Hammer Strike raised his hoof to add on. “If you happen to be unsatisfied with the result, I can also change this aspect, after you pick it.”
“Hmm. Just so I’m aware, this includes compound aspects, too?” Grif asked.
“Only up to a second tier, third at most.”
Grif thought about it for a moment, reviewing the list he knew in his head, considering the options based on how they might aid his current style of combat, and the way he used his thaumic field. “Would … momentum be doable?”
“Being a third tier, this may temporarily weaken your other aspects, in order to take in the necessary drain,” Hammer Strike explained. “This would allow you to mess with your own momentum at first, and potentially the momentum of others.”
“And I’d still have access to my air aspect, after my field recovers?”
“You’ll always have access to it, so long as it is in your field. It just may not be as strong for between a week to a month.”
Grif smiled. “Then let's go with momentum.”
Hammer Strike nodded as he held out his hoof, a gentle blue glow of fire rising from it as two yellow crystals took form. After they finished forming to a decent size, they began to shrink, and a new white crystal began to form between them. As the new aspect continued to form, he reached into his coat with a spare hoof, and brought out a red gem. He rolled his eyes, then placed it back into his pocket, and rummaged around again. This time, his hoof emerged with a green one. Once the white crystal had finished forming, he placed the green crystal to the side, and repeated the process. This time, a soft grey crystal took form. As soon as it was finished, Hammer Strike let out an exhausted sigh. “Better than the last time I made compound aspects, at least,” he muttered.
“Is this going to hurt?” Grif asked as he eyed the crystal warily.
“You’re more likely to not remember it,” Hammer Strike commented.
“Then let's do this!”
“Grif … I already did it,” Hammer Strike commented, gesturing to the clock in his room. Twenty minutes had passed since Grif last looked at it. After a moment, a feeling of vertigo washed over him.
“You weren’t kidding about me not remembering anything,” Grif said, wide-eyed. “I almost feel like somewhere in another universe, a bunch of people just got very angry at us.”
Hammer Strike gave a faint chuckle. “Let them be angry, then.”
“Any side-effects I should know about? Aside from possible weakness, I mean.”
“Besides the feeling that the world just passed you by for however long, nothing major. Remember to focus on the aspect, and practice with it. Toy with it gently at first, to test the waters. Then, as I know you will do, plunge head first into it, and make it your own. Should you not like it, as I said before, just come back to me, and we can change it. But once you commit to it, I can’t change it without significant work.”
“Will do, I guess. Give you an update when we get back?” Grif asked.
“Try not to dive head first immediately, Grif. There’s a reason I want you to start slow. If the aspect doesn’t agree with you, it will result in hardships in the future.”
“I’ll be careful,” Grif assured him. “Thanks for trusting me with this. I’ll talk to you later.” And with that, Grif made his way back out of the office, and into the hall. He managed to keep his gait straight, but decided against flying for now, until his senses finished readjusting.
Grif hadn’t told Pensword what he was planning, so it was of little surprise to him when armed Thestrals barred his way to the newly restored lodge. “Evening, gentlecolts. I’m here to speak to the clan heads and the chieftess’ representative.”
The armed Thestrals looked at Grif, before whispering among themselves. “We’ll see you onto the main floor in two hours. You’ll meet with the Clan’s mouthpiece. Unfortunately, most of the heads have returned to Ys, but their representatives here have the same authority, much like you have with Warrior Hammer Strike.”
“I must meet with all in authority, by right of this.” Grif produced a small onyx plate from under his armor. The image of a wolf howling had been carefully engraved into the plate. “Do the Thestrals honor their tokens?”
The guards scrutinized the plate, then looked warily at one another, before responding. “We will get you a meeting in thirty minutes. The clan chiefs and representatives must be gathered. The Wolf and Fox representatives are hunting in the forest right now. We can feed you some vampire fruit bats in the main floor of the lodge while you wait, if you wish.”
“I will wait here,” Grif insisted. “You may inform me when they are ready.” With that, the Gryphon proceeded to enter into a meditative stance as he had been practicing with Zecora, and it was in this stance he remained for the next while, ignoring the flow of time around him.
Thirty five minutes later, Pensword exited the lodge, and cleared his throat. “We are ready for your meeting.”
Grif took a minute to exit his meditative stance. He took a few deep breaths to finish, then stood. “Lead the way.” His tone was formal, a sign of respect for Pensword’s station at this time as he followed him.
Pensword nodded, and opened the door, holding it silently for Grif as a sign of respect for the guest, but a rabid curiosity burned in his eyes. The interior was exactly the same as it had been the night Grif had spoken to Kel’leam only a few months prior. The bonfire still burned, and the mountings and symbols shone with a fresh silver polish. Row upon row of tiered seats had been set up, and the bonfire’s light reflected off the eyes of the many clan leaders and representatives as they scrutinized the newcomer.
When Grif had been guided to his place in the middle of the room, Pensword took flight, and alighted in the last empty seat to gaze down at his friend. The Wolf Clan leader stood, and nodded to the Gryphon. “We have gathered to honor the ancient call. As leader of the Wolf Clan, it is my right and my duty to address the token. Tell us, what is it that you desire of us, Grif Grafson, leader of all Bladefeathers?”
“I can see by your faces that many of you are shocked to see this in my possession, and possibly more shocked that I could present such a token. I will start by assuring you it was not given to me by Pensword. I would not take such a sacred object from his hoof. And if I had, it would no doubt hold the bear on its face. I assure you, he held no knowledge I possessed this. Does the Wolf Tribe recognize the hero Long Fang, who served Luna in the army during the Third Gryphon war?”
“The Wolf Clan recognizes Long Fang, Grif. Colonel, warrior, and one who was lost to the Nightmare saving those in Canterlot upon our Chieftess’ fall.”
“It was he who gave me this token, after we threw open the gates of the fort the Gryphons knew as Featherbrooke together. Today, the Ponies now call it Longflanks. Long Fang and his troops had been captured, and I freed them. For that, he passed this token to me, given to him by Gnarled Fang, leader of the Wolf Pack of his time. As you know, this token grants me one boon from your kind, a favor that can neither be denied nor withheld from me. And it is today that I come to claim it.”
The chief looked about the room nervously, then focused his gaze once more on Grif. “We … are ready to hear.”
“I intended not to do this meeting for many years, and under more kinder conditions, but recent events have forced my hand. As such, I use this token to demand the rite of apprenticeship from Day Moon of the line of Pen. He will fill my quiver, and sharpen my knife. In return, I will make him a hunter of things in the dark, for I am the Raven.” A hint of a smile pulled at his beak, when he heard a few gasps. The Thestrals, like many Native American cultures of Earth, believed the raven a trickster.
Pensword shuddered at the claim. The council room dropped into a hushed silence. The very flames of the bonfire dropped low. At last, the chieftain spoke. “That is not within my power to grant, for the child is not of my clan, marked though he may be for the training.” He looked to Pensword. “That choice falls to his guardian to decide.”
Pensword rose to his hooves, and cleared his throat. “I, Pensword of the house of Pen, do hereby accept your demands on the behalf of my people, in accordance with the ancient laws. I do hereby commend Day Moon’s safety and well-being to your talons, while working beneath your wings. Guard him well, and train him well. And Faust help you if any harm should befall him before he is prepared.” He bowed his head, and spread his wings wide. The council repeated the gesture, and the bonfire surged upwards as the bargain was struck, filling the room with its light, and casting Grif’s shadow far upon the walls behind him. Many a council member gasped as they pointed to the shadow, for it had taken the form of a great black bird with its wings outstretched. Pensword’s gaze remained neutral as he looked upon his friend. “Tonight, as is tradition, you shall dine at my table, while you speak to Day Moon.”
“I thank you greatly for this meeting, and this honor. Know that I have kept this token close to breast, and I have spoken of its purpose to no one. I return it to you as a sign that faith between us is unbroken.” Grif handed the token to the representative of the Wolf Clan with a small bow of the head.
The chieftain held up a wing. “You speak of the Raven, and you are asking for the White Wolf.” He looked at the token. “We will accept this token, but come the end of the week, you shall have a token of your own, with a raven, for legends spoke of the day when the Wolf and the Raven would join to defeat the shadows born of ice.”
“I would ask that, aside from the training of your people’s axes and knives, you will have a qualified expert teach him the use of the small crossbow. I will teach him the sword personally.”
The chief nodded. “His father will teach him the crossbow, for he is already in charge of the other duties, as is his role as the father. As for you, who have claimed the title of the Raven, know that we will support you, so long as you continue to act in accordance with the prophecy. Request what you need of us, and it shall be provided. We will support the Raven.”
Grif nodded. “Then I will end my audience wishing you great honor, brother Wolf. I hope this mutual trust between us remains unbroken. Let us shake, and signify this pact in the presence of all those before us.” He drew a knife from his bandolier, and pricked his palm, before offering his talons to the chief.
“We look forward to many years of trust, brother Raven.” The Wolf Clan chief flew down to the bonfire, and drew his own knife. He pricked his hoof near the joint, and held it out. Grif seized the spot, and the two’s blood mingled from the wounds. The two separated, and Grif shot a wink to Pensword before turning to leave the chamber with a slow, methodical pace.
They waited for the doors to close behind Grif, and then the Wolf Clan’s chief turned to Pensword. “You will be commissioned a Raven token with a sword on one side and a feather on the other to be given to Brother Raven. Ensure the Moon’s Embrace is included above it.”
“I understand.” Pensword nodded. “It will be done.”
“They by the authority vested in me as the voice for this body, I hereby declare this council adjourned.”
When Pensword arrived at his suite, he found a large box waiting on his desk. Pensword was confused, before walking up to it. A note at the top told him to open the box. He took his knife cautiously, and cut the twine around it. Then he tore off the wrapping paper to find a wooden crate with no markings on it. He slid off the box’s lid, and his eyes widened in surprise. The wooden rail equipment that he had ordered stared him right in the face.
He had no warning, before he was tackled from the air as Moon River nommed on his ear. “Play?” she asked.
“Yes, play. Play.” Pensword, no, Matthew giggled. “Let’s build us a railroad.”
A few hours later, Night Terror showed up to help prepare the dinner. A watertight basket with some fresh meat had been tied to her back. A fretful frown broke her neutral mask. She was worried. Today, she had fun, actual fun hunting, snaring, and even skinning the rabbits. She had three large male rabbits to cook for dinner. Those concerns came to a stop, however, as she entered Pensword’s quarters, and found the floor cluttered with wooden tracks. She took to the air, using her wings to hover as she gazed down curiously at the new landscape that had been built up. The tracks rose up mountains of pillows, through tunnels of scrolls, and over the bumpy hills of a rumpled blanket.
What stood out most, however, was the sight of Commander Pensword playing with a black engine, making chugging noises like a foal. Moon River was busy pushing a small green engine at another part of the layout. Night Terror nearly flew into the ceiling as Lunar Fang’s adept hooves grabbed the carrying baskets her.
“Oh, rabbit!” Lunar Fang exclaimed. “This will go nicely with the vampire fruit bat tonight. Thank you, Night Terror.” She beamed a smile at the filly. “Go on. You’ve been working hard enough. I’d say you’ve earned a little rest. Why don’t you go join Pensword and Moon River? I’m sure they’d love to have you.” She nudged the filly forward. “Go ahead, and play.”
“P-play?” Night Terror stammered. “Play what?”
“Trains!” Pensword chimed with an excited giggle. This made Night Terror even more nervous. Pensword had never acted like this before in all the time she’d known him. “Come and build a train at the railyard, find your engine. You can pick which one you like best, then push it around the track.” He grinned as he flapped his wings. “Next time, I am so going to order an enchanted set for weather simulation.”
Moon River cooed excitedly as she clopped her hooves together in agreement.
“Don’t mind him,” Lunar Fang spoke up, patting Night Terror’s head reassuringly. “It’s nice to see him this way. I don’t get the chance to see this side of him often, not since his village was torn apart.” She nudged the foal with her muzzle. “Go on now. You earned it. Have some fun.”
“I … I guess?” Night Terror squeaked in worry. “What, exactly a I supposed to do?”
“Have Fun,” Pensword repeated as he giggled. “There is no lesson, no tasks, nothing to learn or do. Just follow your imagination.”
Night Terror shook her head. “A noble doesn’t have fun. They must remember that they–.”
“Play, please?” Moon River suddenly hovered in front of Night Terror, fixing her with the devastating power of her big sad eyes. “Please?” she begged again.
Night Terror gulped. Then she trembled. She stood against that gaze for an impressive five seconds, then finally caved. “Fine, fine,” she groused, “but I don’t know what you are getting at or planning.”
“Yay!” Moon River cheered as she embraced the startled foal around the neck, and nuzzled her briefly, before zooming back to her engine. Pensword and Lunar Fang shared a knowing smile.
And so Night Terror found herself pushing another black engine around the track without any cars. She felt incredibly silly, but the other two seemed to enjoy it well enough. Lunar Fang’s voice carried out from their small kitchen as she sang, and Pensword and Moon River continued their antics. Eventually, Night Terror stopped, and sat down, holding the engine mutely in her hooves as a startling realization crossed her mind. “You're … including me, just for the sake of it,” she said.
“Well, duh,” Pensword replied with a laugh. “No clue why there would be something behind having fun. After all, all work and no play isn't good for mental wellbeing.”
Night Terror just nodded her head up and down on autopilot, not even noticing as she pulled the engine closer to her chest.
“You can have it, if you’d like,” Pensword spoke up, breaking her thoughts.
“Excuse me?” Night Terror asked as she shook her head to clear it.
“The engine. I said you can keep it. It looks like you like it.”
Night Terror blushed awkwardly as she quickly lowered the train back to its track. “Oh, um … th–thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” Pensword said, then laughed again. “Cheer up, Night Terror. No need to blush. It’s nice to give somepony a gift every once in a while.” He winked at her, then waved invitingly with a wing as he trotted over to join Moon River, attaching a set of passenger carts at a miniature train station for the long journey that lay ahead.
Night Terror gaped after him, then looked back down at the train. She reached down, as if to pick it up again, then pulled her hoof back, and shook her head, before retreating to a chair in the far corner. She barely managed to keep back the tears as she thrust her thoughts aside. She had a mission to fulfill. She couldn’t forget that. She couldn’t disappoint her father.
…
She couldn’t.
Hammer Strike couldn’t help but smile as he worked. One of the things that would always be comforting to him was a steady repetitive motion of manual labor. He hummed to himself, swapping out tools as needed as he continued riveting and binding the base of the new weapon to the Gantrithor. The designs for the elemental cannon had been amplified, making for a much bigger shape than initially planned. This required a more durable binding to the ship and a manual connection to the thaumic relays.
The large drum of metal chambered two thaumic crystals with several mechanisms holding several others together in an almost web-like manner, linking the back of the cannon to the chambered crystals. The first crystal was a pale red, the other of a deep red, both touching each other as they finished a circuit leading towards the barrel of the cannon. At the tip of the cannon’s barrel, a pure white crystal waited to focus the energy of the other two crystals into the physical world around them.
His smile widened as he finished bolting the cannon down. He had cleared the air in the direction the cannon was facing, ensuring that orders were kept to maintain the safety of all New Unity. After some minor adjustments in the aim, he did a few last minute checks. The skies were clear. No civilian or guard appeared to be within range. Both air and ground had been properly cleared. He continued checking off his mental checklist as he scanned both the elemental cannon and the horizon.
Finally, he nodded, and locked the controls of the aim, ensuring the movement of the cannon was halted to fix on the empty space ahead. He Looked over his shoulder, and gave a nod to Circlet, who watched on the side, prepared to offer readings on the overall structural integrity of the Gantrithor. She nodded in turn.
Hammer Strike turned back towards the controls, and flipped one of the switches, “Elemental Cannon test one, powering up,” he commented aloud as thaumic energy appeared in his eyes. He looked over the cannon, and focused on the energy drain and stabilization. “Cannon batteries are looking are maintaining a stable energy gain, and seem stable. Time for initial charge is approximately fifty seconds. Brace for fire.”
He sighed as he pulled the central lever down, and the cannon roared. A light began to shine from the central crystal in the barrel, before suddenly shooting outward in a direct beam of solid white light that bled softly into red. He looked out into the distance, and gauged the distance of the beam to approximately seventy-five yards. “Cannon is ending at a moderate distance. Energy of the beam is–.” He looked over the beam with his thaumic vision. “–Stable across the entire length.” He glanced down at the cannon itself. “Cannon is currently running stable. Energy gain and consumption is stable.”
The scarred Pony smiled to himself as he looked to the beam once more. The two aspects had fused perfectly to creating a beam of thaumic energy, specifically one attuned to the aspect of fire. Anything the beam touched would be burned away, and leave anything that didn’t evaporate in flames. After five minutes of continuous testing, he nodded, and reset the lever, shutting the beam down. After a moment he flipped the initial switch once more, depowering the cannon. “All right, that’s a success. Circlet, would it be possible for you to announce the all clear over the speakers?”
“Okay, what was that?” Grif’s voice asked a few seconds later as he approached his lord.
Hammer Strike turned with a manic grin. “Grif, allow me to introduce the Elemental Cannon, MK II.” He gestured to the cannon.
“It’s bigger than the other one,” Grif noted. “I take it this means that large red sideways pillar of energy was your test fire?”
“You did get the warning I sent out, right?” Hammer Strike chuckled. “Yes, the same mechanics are in play with this one. The cannon uses the energy from the core, and projects it through the two aspect crystals inside, currently one of energy and one of fire.”
“So then, you can essentially program the energy from the bloodstone core into whatever thaumic equivalence you need through the crystals?” Grif asked.
“It should be able to handle most things. A beam of elemental energy, a flamethrower, high pressure water cannon. All of them effortlessly.”
“What about the more solid aspects, like stone or metal?” Grif asked.
“Certain aspects can’t be used, sadly, unless in junction with specific other aspects, but it is possible.”
“You're going to make firing keys for this, right? I mean, I’d prefer if me and you alone could fire these things, if we’re talking that much power.”
“No, I wanted everyone to be able to fire this thing freely,” Hammer Strike replied sarcastically. “By Tartarus itself, of courseI’m making firing keys! I’d be a moron to leave this thing capable of firing freely,” he finished, opening the side panel, and removing the two crystals inside, placing them inside his coat.
“Just double checking. The last thing we need is these cannons getting out of our control,” Grif noted.
“Yeah,” Hammer Strike nodded. “To think, though….” A new smile formed on his face. “I have plans for the MK III already.”
“Should I be worried that the only time you seem to smile like that is when you're making implements of death?”
Hammer Strike chuckled. “Oh, trust me, Grif. You’ll know when you should be worried.”
Grif knocked on the door, only for the door to swing open on its own. He saw that the floor was covered by wooden railway tracks, bridges, switches, a roundhouse with a turntable, and just a general mess. “We’re in the dining room, Grif,” Pensword’s voice called out.
“Any reason why it looks like a train shop just exploded in here?” Grif asked as he did his best to avoid the tracks.
“Because the package Pensword ordered arrived, and he and the foals have been building and playing trains all afternoon,” Lunar fang said with a chuckle. “You’ll see the photos later. We even got Night Terror to play along for a time. Day Moon planned out the routes, while the others pushed trains around the layout. Matthew’s been dominant nearly all afternoon.”
“I see,” Grif said as he finally made his way into the dining room.
Pensword sat with a happy grin on his face, wearing a striped engineer's hat. The children all were chatting and smiling while Night Terror took an unenthusiastic bite, before returning her attention to a small black wooden engine that had been set next to her plate. Moon River reached over, as if to touch the engine, only for Grif to witness Night Terror hiss a warning to the young foal. Moon River shrieked in delight as she drew her hoof away from the engine. That shriek was soon replaced by a grin as she noticed her godfather.
“Hi,” Moon River called, waving her hoof excitedly as her wings flapped behind her, causing her high chair to wobble. The table had been laden in a carnivorous feast. Rabbit stew steamed in its thick gravy-like broth, while vampire fruit bat sat in an apple glaze reduction. Lastly, some wild boar meat had been cut apart, and the extra juices spilled out to be absorbed by the fruits that had been cut up on the platter.
“Good evening everyone,” Grif offered a nod and a smile towards his god daughter. He made his way over to her, and gave her a peck on the head. “Hey there, Moonie.”
“Hi, Uncle Grif.” It was garbled, but all could understand the foal’s meaning. An open spot had been left between Moon River and Day Moon for Grif to sit. Across from them, Inigo, Cristo, Fox Feather, and Lunar Fang smiled goodnaturedly. Pensword sat at the head of the table next to Night Terror.
“Thank you for inviting me,” Grif said, looking to Pensword. “This looks delicious.”
“I hope so,” the Pegasus replied. “I kind of got lost in playing with my foals and Night Terror, so I didn’t help.” His ears wilted slightly.
“None of that,” Lunar Fang chided. “You need to play, and let Matthew out of that stuffy library of his. It feels good seeing your mannerisms again.”
Grif chuckled at the exchange. “So, who begins?”
“You do,” Night Terror spoke softly. “You are the head guest of the table, so you begin with the first dish. Then we begin to pass the food around.”
Grif nodded, and served himself a helping of stew, before offering the ladle down. “So, Day Moon, did Pensword explain what happened?”
“Only that you want to start my training,” Day Moon began. “He said I’m going to be an apprentice to you.” He looked worriedly at his plate. “I … I don’t know if I want to, with how you’ve been treating dad.”
“You know what the difference between a guard and a warrior is, Day Moon?” Grif asked.
Day Moon shook his head. “They’re the same thing. Just one is more elite than the other, I think.”
“The Guards, or at least as they are in Equestria, polish their armor, sharpen their spears, and parade around attempting to be threatening. But when the danger arises, most of them lose track of themselves. Their courage crumbles, and they panic.” Grif looked at Day Moon. “Warriors take that fear, and push past it. They use it to motivate themselves to keep others from having to face that fear. I know you are afraid, Day Moon, but which do you want to be: a colt playing at war or a stallion who makes a world where colts can afford to play at war?”
“I want to help the world,” Day Moon assured him. “I just … don’t think I can withstand your training sessions as I am now.”
Grif chuckled, and shook his head. “You won’t be starting at the level I have your father at, Day Moon. I will push you a bit harder than normal, but we’ll start small,” he promised.
“Then I accept,” Day Moon agreed. “But do I have to sleep in your house, then? You know, live under your roof, eat meals with you, that sort of thing? Or is it a different type of apprenticeship?”
“You aren't so far away that you’d need to do that, at least not for many years yet. Still, you must be prepared, because if I need to take you away, you have to be ready to go.”
“You mean I get my own duffel for emergencies?” he asked with a grin.
Grif nodded. “We’ll be learning to hunt both the nightkin and the earthborn monsters,” Grif explained. “Nightkin are the type Shadowbane was made for killing. Earthborn are the more mundane type.”
“Oh, that sounds interesting. Shadowbane will probably be excited to be going after what he was made to hunt.”
“I’ve requested that you learn to use a small crossbow on top of other weapons. Hopefully, it will give you something to use, until we can figure something else out,” Grif explained.
“Grif has asked that I be the one to instruct you in that regard,” Pensword said, “along with the tools I need to teach you as a proper Thestral. Lessons will be before bed each night.”
“You’ll be joining me for exercises in the mornings now, too,” Grif continued. “We start early, so you may need an alarm clock or something.”
“Okay.” Day Moon spoke.
“What time?” Inigo and Cristo asked at the same time. “We want to come, too.”
“We start at five thirty,” Grif told them. “If you show up, you're welcome to run.”
“Yay!” the two foals cheered as they embraced their brother.
Grif looked at Pensword, and chuckled. Pensword just shared a knowing look with his friend.
“Now come on. It’s time to eat dinner, before it gets too cold. Grif can ask all the questions he needs after you’ve started those meals of yours,” Fox Feather chided the foals.
“I think questions can wait until after the meal,” Grif said, taking a bite. “This is too precious to waste.”
When the meal had finished, and all rubbed their stomachs contentedly, Grif rose from his place, and gave a bow. “Thank you, friends, for your hospitality. The food was splendid, and the company more so.” He turned to Day Moon, and patted his head three times, before sending him a wink. He pecked Moon River on the cheek as he passed her, and flashed Day Moon another wink. Suddenly, for some reason, a memory flashed through Day Moon’s mind about Wukong's story, how his master had hit him on the head three times to signal that he was to meet him on the third hour after midnight. Grif thanked his hosts again, and made his way out as carefully as possible.
Day Moon nibbled at his meal, while the others were busy talking and chatting. The sun set, and the moon rose. While Pensword and Fox Feather slipped away to their bedroom, Lunar Fang looked at the other foals. “Okay children, let’s take our time, and enjoy tonight’s adventures. “Day Moon, don’t forget you have a hunt to go on tonight. Go and pack your things.”
Day Moon gaped at her.
“Well, go on. March, young colt,” she said sternly. She couldn’t help but smile as Day Moon stuttered into action. She hadn’t expected Grif to give the signal so soon, but she had faith he knew what he was doing. She turned to face the other foals. “Now then, who’s going to help me clear up all these dishes?” She chuckled as a collective groan filled the room. Keeping the rest of the children busy wouldn’t be a problem tonight.
“I’M GOING TO TEACH YOU TO MESS UP MY LAB, YOU LITTLE RED MASS OF ARCANE REFUSE!” Clover shouted, not for the first time, as she fired another bolt of magic at a small red blur that was dashing away from a freshly turned over lab table.
“... Is it just me, or is that thing actually making Clover madder than the nobles? I mean, I’ve never seen her this bad, like ever,” Vital noted as he raised a shield to deflect a blast the imp had reflected using a mirror nearby.
“Well, to be fair, Trixie isn’t exactly thrilled with the little beast herself,” Trixie noted as she wrapped a bitten leg in a few strands of cloth.
“Well, at least we’ve got the most valuable things here in this box. There’s no way it’ll be able to break through my forcefield to take them, so Clover’s lab will remain intact,” Vital said casually as he sat on a small, unadorned crate, even as his horn continued to generate the barrier he’d conjured up.
Clover herself continued to give chase as magic circles covered the areas she’d left, giving the imp less and less areas to run to. When Trixie was done wrapping her leg, she proceeded to add her own contribution as light and dark magic weaved webs around the room, drawing the imp towards the dark energy and away from the light. The imp charged Vital Spark’s forcefield greedily, and in an almost panicked frenzy. It collided against the barrier repeatedly, until it finally shattered, before bee-lining it for the crate. Vital Spark fired off several beams of ice magic, leaving the path behind and around the imp slick, without actually touching the creature itself. It always seemed able to dodge at the last second. The imp crowed in triumph as it threw a ball of smoke Trixie’s way, obscuring the Unicorn’s vision, before it knocked Vital off onto his rump with a well placed fireball. It lifted the lid, and jumped in, its demented laughter echoing behind it. That laughter soon trailed off to a scream as the heavy sound of an iron lid snapping shut filled the room. The shriek of metal sounded within as the shrinking charms were dismissed, and the iron walls of the box inside the crate grew back out again. Moments later, the crate welded shut, and dozens of glowing chains wrapped themselves around, each embedded with runes of power and binding. A heavy iron lock was the last thing to land on top, clicking into place, and activating the full extent of the containment seal Clover had planted.
“How does that feel, you little cretin?” Clover growled as she stomped over, lifted the crate, and shook it violently several times with her magic. “Was it worth it now? Was it?”
“... Wow. Did it seriously mess up your lab that badly?” Vital asked as he flinched.
“It nearly got to my samples of the egg, Vital. You don’t even want to know the kind of havoc that little monstrosity could have unleashed, had it succeeded,” Clover noted. “I hope whatever hell Grif sends this to, it has an appropriate punishment for those who would mess with a mare’s lab.”
“Imps don’t generally manage to slip through the cracks easily, though, do they?” Vital mused as he rubbed his chin. “At least, from what little lore I could find back on Earth. I don’t claim to be an expert on the subject, but aren’t they generally summoned by a mage to do their bidding?”
“Unfortunately, some summoners don’t bother to dismiss them properly afterwards,” Clover explained. “Thus, they wind up in random areas of the planet, and propagate outside of their realm.” She moved to Trixie, and began removing the strips of cloth from her leg. “We’d best have a look. Imps are known for having a powerful bite.”
Trixie turned to look away as Clover removed the coverings. The older mare stopped for a minute to stare at the last layer. She seemed more shocked by the lack of blood than anything. She turned to check the wound, and seemed even more surprised. “Vital spark, did you see her bite, administer a healing spell or something?”
Vital shook his head. “I was too busy trying to keep a straight face with the lie, and maintaining the barrier. What happened?”
“Nothing. Just the imp must have only winged her,” Clover noted as her horn glowed momentarily. “There, Trixie. That should numb the pain. A good night’s rest should be all you need after. Why don’t you head to bed while Vital Spark helps me clean up?”
Trixie looked confused for a moment at this unusual show of tenderness from their teacher, but sighed, and nodded. “Trixie does feel a little tired. Thank you, Clover.” She turned to the door, and left with a small limp. When she passed the threshold, the door closed gently behind her, and locked noiselessly. As an added incentive, Clover cast a muffling spell over the door to prevent anyone from overhearing them.
“Vital, you and I both saw what happened. That imp chomped into her leg. It shouldn’t have been that shallow,” Clover said.
“Are you suggesting a spell? Some sort of corruptive influence?”
Clover shook her head. “Imps are darker beings. Such a spell would have only made the venom in its bite activate.” She caught the stallion’s look, and shook her head. “It’s harmless to Ponies normally,” she assured him.
“But?” Vital pressed.
“The only time I saw a reaction like that was when Luna caught the wrong side of an imp, when she was a filly,” Clover noted.
“And just what are you inferring?”
“Vital, how much has Trixie changed? You think she’s a different Pony than when she had the amulet?”
“Are we talking power, personality, or physical traits?”
“Yes.”
“You know, that gag is starting to get really old. If this were a story, I’d figure the readers would be starting to get tired of it,” Vital noted. “And you already have a log on the changes she’s made, Clover. You had me clean your lab. You can’t have me do that and not stumble across some of your notes.”
“Suppose she were to go through a metamorphosis like that of our own dear Twilight. Do you think she would be able to handle it?”
“We don’t even know all the facts behind Twilight’s ascension in the first place, at least from a magical standpoint, so to ask me if I think Trixie would be able to handle it seems … well, kind of reckless, if you ask me.” Vital furrowed his brow. “This kind of talk isn’t usually like you, Clover.”
“You remember how Star Swirl was working on an Alicorn ascension spell, then. I helped him with the basics of that research. One of our hypotheses was that a subject would start showing signs of such changes beforehand, such as heightened endurance.” Clover looked at Vital. “You know me too well to know I don’t like to play in maybes, so tell me here and now. Do you think she could handle it?”
“I don’t even know the kind of toll it would take on a body. It’s not like she and I go on Grif’s training regimen together. Is she stronger? Clearly in the magical department. As for physically … well, the way she was climbing the thousand steps, she’d probably have a ways to go … unless she was acting that way for my benefit,” he mused. “She is a good showpony….”
“Keep a close eye on her, then,” Clover said. “If anything strange happens, let me know, all right? If I’m right, it will be imperative that Miss Lulamoon receives the support she will need. If I’m wrong, well … nothing will change, will it?”
“It’s one thing to put on an act to deal with a lesser demon, Clover. I’m not about to lie to my marefriend. I’ll keep an eye on her, but I’m going to bring this up.” He raised his hoof to cut Clover off. “I’ll make sure to keep the theories out of it. I know better than to scare her like that. But I am going to find out just how far she’s changed physically. If what you say is true, … well, we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.”
“Just be careful, Vital Spark. Based on my studies, Alicorns have a stronger instinctive reactions to things. I know the two of you are … close. She may get protective or be prone to fits of irrational jealousy.”
“Around heat, or all the time?”
“Oh, Faust, I forgot about heat!” Clover facehoofed. “Yeah. Have fun with that,” she offered as she waved her horn, and the tables replaced themselves. Beakers and bunsen burners moved to their places, shattered glass reformed to become the different instruments they had been before breaking, books repaired their minor damage and wandered back onto their shelves. “There we go.”
“... Why do I get the feeling I’m going to want to stay in human form when that time comes around?”
“Provided your genetic material wasn’t already too altered previous to your acquiring a way to stint it,” Clover noted. “The enchantment doesn’t make you immune, unless you are immune in your base form.” Then she smirked. “Good luck, lover boy,” she chuckled.
Vital Spark glowered at her. “I hate you so much right now. Anything else? Maybe you’re going to ask me to summon some high level entity from another plane of existence to form a contract with? Perhaps carry Mount Everhoof on my back?” he asked flatly.
“All lessons for another time,” Clover said, shaking her head. “For now, you should sleep, and I should get this imp to the meeting place.”
“I don’t know whether to balk, or just walk away to study up on the subjects.” Vital sighed. “Probably both. I’ll see you later, Clover. If Trixie strangles me to death, take good care of Aria.”
“Will do,” Clover said cheerfully.
The door slammed shut behind the Unicorn as he left.
Grif waited on the eastern battlement. The area was quiet, as Grif had dismissed the night watch for the time being. Ping, or Nanami as she chose to be called, leaned against the wall nearby, while Clover went over the magic circle for the seventh time. in the center of it, a crate rattled and jumped angrily. Grif had his katana out, and admired it as it glowed in the night. He hoped this would be enough to tell Day Moon where they were. He traced the fiery hamon carefully with a claw, feeling the fire-like waves it depicted dancing in his very being.
“What is that?” Nanami’s voice flowed out through the night air like water as she stepped forward in her warrior’s garb. Her father’s gift had been strapped to her side, and she gulped heavily as she approached the warrior.
“We visited a friend on our way home from Gryphonia. He gave me a puzzle box, and when I solved it, there was a die inside. I rolled it, and this sword appeared. It’s apparently bonded to my soul.” He offered it to her to examine.
“Grif, do you know what this is?” Nanami ran her hand over the blade as a flare of energy arced across the metal.
“A blessed masamune,” Grif said, giving her a wink. “I’ve managed to read a few of the things you brought with you. Translation trinkets aren't hard to use when you have someone who knows the language.”
“One that has been severely tampered with,” she said as her mouth set in a grim line. “There is another power here, ancient, but not divine in nature. You’re fortunate the manipulation didn’t disrupt the power of the blessing itself. This blade could have easily become cursed or worse.”
“And I would be the last one you would want with a murasame,” Grif nodded in agreement.
“This is different from the magics I’ve encountered before. It isn’t Unicorn, but it appears to be similar in nature. The sword is upset. It was forced to bond with you against its will, because of that magic.”
“If I had to hazard a guess, I’d say it’s Alicorn,” Grif noted.
“If it is, then count yourself lucky. We don’t have much on that race, but our records indicate they played with forces they ought never have touched, and they paid the ultimate price for it.” She handled the sword expertly, before handing it hilt first to the Gryphon.
“I’ll strive to be worthy of the sword’s trust.” Grif nodded, taking it back. “Now where is he? You think he missed my signal?”
“It is its respect you need to focus on, Grif,” Nanami warned cryptically as she stepped back into the shadows. “The moon will come soon enough. Give him time.”
Day Moon landed upon the battlements, and looked nervously at the jumping crate. “Wh-what’s in the box?”
Grif stepped forward, and shook his head. “That’s a lesson for later. For starters, let’s work on your kit. This will be the basic equipment I’ll be expecting you to keep on you on top of your armor and Shadowsbane. Are you ready for this? I’ll be teaching you how to use most of it over time.”
Day Moon nodded. “I am.”
“Very well.” Grif signaled to Nanami, who laid out a long square linen sheet, and began to place things out on it. Grif pointed to each new item, and listed it by name and purpose. “Steel wire, thirteen yards of it, along with a basic tool kit. You’ll be learning how to make bait and set traps using these and simple things you can find around you. When you run low on wire, you’re going to have to start refilling it from your own pay. Understand?”
“Yes, Sir. But … pay? I thought apprentices weren’t supposed to get money.”
“You’ll get a cut of any bounties we bring in,” Grif explained. He pointed to a familiar white stick. “You know what chalk is, I take it?”
“Every foal does. But how is chalk supposed to help us with monster hunting?”
“Certain types of nightkin follow very specific rules. For instance, a circle line in chalk can protect you from spirits and anything possessed of a spirit, as well as many physical monsters.” He turned to a bag of marbles. “This is a sack of one hundred and twelve small glass marbles. These aren't toys, and are not to be bet in marble games with other colts. These marbles could, and probably will save your life one day.”
Day Moon cocked his head in confusion. “And how are these supposed to help me?”
“Because, if you need to flee a vampire, cast them before your path, and don’t look back until you enter a holy place, your home, or cross rushing water. A vampire will be forced to count and sort all the marbles before it can chase you,” Grif explained
Day Moon’s gaze rose slowly to meet Grif’s. “You’re telling me that vampires still exist?” He looked worriedly at the bag of marbles. “We … don’t have to fight them right now, do we?”
“They have proven to resurface when everyone thinks they're gone, so I’d rather you be prepared. And no, we won’t be hunting vampires immediately. They’re too far above your level right now.” Grif pointed to a small leather pouch. “Now this little container here holds purified salt. It is to be used in the same manner as chalk, generally against fey or related monsters. When unbroken, it forms a wall thats impenetrable to them, and them only. You following so far?”
Day Moon nodded.
“I’ve included religious symbols from most of the major gods of the races found in Equestria as well. Not every nightkin is affected by Sleipnir or Faust. Remember that.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“I’ve also included an alchemy kit and a medical kit. You’ll be studying alchemy with Clover, and herbology with Fluttershy at various points. I’ve started you off with some of the basics: blood lily, wolfsbane, nightshade, various herbs that you’ll find out the usefulness of. I’ve included flint and tinder, and a small vial of water sanctified by the Winds. Later, you’ll need to find a priest or representative of the deity closest to you to provide you with more. This is your basic kit. It’s likely we’ll be adding more to it over time, but these are the things that you should always have on you. Is this understood?” Grif asked him. This time his face and voice carried a stern no-nonsense tone.
“So, do I need to sleep with it?” Day Moon asked.
“Because a shadow is looming over someone very close to us, and I’d rather you have this on you, in case you need to defend that someone.” Grif produced a small stack of surprisingly thin books. “These are primers on the subjects you need to learn. That means they will help you prepare. There will be more books, but these are where I’ll have you start. I’ve also included a bestiary on the things we’ll be studying first in our lessons. I don’t expect you to have the books on you at all times, but you willstudy them. Agreed?”
“Agreed. I’m guessing dad’s going to change my schedule to accommodate this training?”
“Understand, Day Moon. What you’re starting now isn’t something you can ever put down. This is a lifelong choice, and I’m giving you one last chance to make it yourself. After tonight, monster hunting will be your career, your life, until the day you are either killed in the line of duty or retire. Are you ready to accept that?”
“I ... I don’t know,” Day Moon finally responded. “I want to, but I don’t know if I’d be strong enough to handle it. I mean, nobles making fun of my intelligence? That was easy. This….” He scuffed his hoof on the stone for a time. “I just … I need to be present for one thing, just one.” He sighed. “If I agree to this, there will be no secrets, right? You won’t hold anything back from me, and I won’t be able to from you either?”
A shadow fell across Grif’s face as he looked down on the foal. “Day Moon, if you take this path, my life will be in your hooves, just as yours shall be in my talons. There are many secrets I must keep for other business, but on this, the art of monster hunting itself, I won’t hold anything back from you.”
Day Moon took a deep breath, then sighed. “You probably already know this, Grif, but my mother was murdered. My brothers and I swore we would see those responsible punished. I ... I want to be there when we make the killers pay. If you can handle that, then I’ll do everything I can to be the apprentice you need.”
“If that's what it takes, then I’ll do everything I can to help. Now we have one more thing to finish before you head back. So tell me, Day Moon. I need you to say it out loud. Will you hunt with me?”
Day Moon nodded. “I will.”
“Then tonight, we will cover an important subject: invocation.” Grif turned to the crate. “Do you know what that is?”
Day Moon shook his head.
“Invocation is the practice of invoking the name of a higher power to accomplish a goal you could not do on your own,” Grif explained. “I’m still rather new to it myself, but it’s important to know this, especially since some creatures cannot be killed or banished by any physical means.”
“I … suppose that makes sense,” Day Moon responded thoughtfully.
“For tonight’s lesson, I will be showing you the principle based on an imp Clover caught in her laboratory. An imp is a lesser being that escaped from Tartarus. They are generally very small, and stand with an ape-like posture. They are anywhere from blood-red to fiery-orange to sickly-pink. What makes them difficult is they can take themselves apart and put themselves back together, meaning tearing them apart with any weapon does nothing. Have you got all that?”
“They come in many shades of red, they’re small, can cause mischief in homes, and can’t be killed by a weapon normally. I’m guessing that includes Shadowsane?” Day Moon asked.
Grif nodded. “To kill an imp, you need to break their hold on this world by using a higher power to cast them out. For now, I simply want you to watch, while I demonstrate. Nanami will serve as my backup, in case something goes wrong. Clover is mainly here for magical support.”
“Okay.” Day Moon nodded as he looked intently at the cage..
Grif nodded to Clover, who released the imp. It was a sickly reddish color, and it growled through large yellow fangs as it hopped from the crate, only to be stopped by the protective circle. Grif stared at the beast as he raised the katana to be parallel with the ground, blade facing upwards as he bowed his head, and mumbled something Day Moon couldn’t hear. The wind around them began to blow, coming in random gusts from different directions. When Grif lifted his head and began to speak, the katana’s gentle glow became a bright light pulsing with each line along the length of the blade.
“By the sanctity of this seal, and by this blade of sacred steel. Because of this beast whose acts profane, I invoke their sacred names. By the power of Shinatsuhiko, goddess of the south wind, I cast you down. By the power of Borrum, god of the east wind, I break your dominion on this plane. By the power of Zephyrus, god of the west wind, I cast you out. By the power of Njord, god of the north wind, I send you down. And by Silap Inua’s divine breath, I send you back to the darkness that spawned you. Leave, and be cast down!”
Upon that final line, both Grif and the imp snarled at each other, before Grif lunged, and impaled the beast. It screamed in agony as the fiery glow enveloped it. Day Moon watched the demon’s form burn to ash before Grif. When its deise was complete, its ashes scattered on the wind. Without a word, Grif sheathed the katana, and turned to look at Day Moon to gauge his reaction.
The foal’s eyes were wide with shock. “I need to find my own names now,” he muttered. “Still, you want me to do that someday, too?”
“You may need to, yes. Nanami will help you to find a being who you can form a bond with to let them invoke their name. I know your people worship the moon, but as her name has been lost to you, I don’t see how it’s an option.”
Day Moon looked to Grif with a faithful smile. “But someday, that name will be found again. Till then, Uncle Pensword’s given me another name to use, the name of her guard: Polaris.” As he spoke the name, the stars flashed momentarily, and the starlight shone brighter.
“The polekeeper, defender of the order of the heavens, maestro to the celestial dance. An interesting choice. Fitting, in a way,” Nanami noted. “His lances are a powerful force to have on your side, as is his skill in combat. Tell me, do you know how to make the contract?”
Day Moon shook his head.
“Have you a shrine?”
“Personal or communal?” Day Moon countered.
Nanami smiled. “Now you’re thinking with your head. Either will work for the sake of establishing the link, but it may be better to keep it private for now. The less people who know of the contract, the easier it will be to surprise your enemy with it later. You will require an offering, of course, something with which to appease him, and entice him to accept you. Even then, it may not be enough. Most divines require their contractors to prove themselves, before they are willing to lend their aid.”
“So that will take time, then, time that I hope to have to discover how to create this on my own. I hope that’s okay with you, Grif.” He rubbed his forehoof nervously. “Since you’re my master now, what should I call you?”
“Grif is fine.” He ruffled Day Moon’s mane. “But don’t worry about it. Trust Nanami as you would trust me. Think of her as your own personal big sister. She wants you to succeed as much as I do, and her training as a priestess is a great source of knowledge. Don’t shun it. Use it.”
“And to tell you the truth, it won’t take nearly so long as you think.” Nanami smiled gently as she pat the foal on his back. “Let’s go visit your elders, hmm? I believe they may know some of the best offerings Polaris enjoys from your people. Any time you wish to enter a contract or go on a hunt, the most important thing you can ever do is research.”
Day Moon smiled. “We’ll go as soon as my lesson is finished,” he promised.
“No. For now, Nanami will instruct you. If she is willing to, I will let her handle this matter. She has more knowledge of invocation and higher beings than I do, anyway.”
“We’ll start immediately,” she promised. “Come along, little cub. You’ve got a long night ahead of you.” She clapped her hands together, and grinned. “In the words of my most revered great uncle three times removed, ‘Now we can do research!’”
Extended Holiday Ch 129: Every dog has its day Act 20
Vital Spark sighed as he plopped himself down on his bed. His head still reeled from what essentially was one of the most upfront and blunt ultimatums Clover had ever said.
“Vital Spark, you have a choice to make at this stage, and you need to make it in the next twenty-four hours. Either you can fully dedicate yourself to the magic this world has to offer you, and continue under my tutelage or you can cling to your past, and end that relationship. Your magic and skill won’t grow any further, unless you choose the former. And should you choose the latter, I need time to find another apprentice. There will be no lessons today, no assignments, other than that. Man up or Pony up, whatever you call it, but whichever you do, make a decision, and stick with it. I don’t have time for somepony to try fitting two sets of horseshoes at once.”
A cheerful chirp brought his attention to the fledgeling Aria, and he smiled weakly. “Hey, Aria. It’s good to see you, too.” He got up off the bed, walked over, and stroked her back. Then he offered a piece of frozen food, which she swallowed happily. With that feeding done for the time being, Vital Spark levitated the leather covers of his scriptures, those of Faust, and the many tomes Clover had given him to study in his time in Equestria. He knew she was right. The question was which to choose. He’d seen too much of magic here to try to make Melody’s prophecy seem false, and that meant that eventually, he’d be faced with a massive challenge in Zebrica. Prayers and faith were well and good, but they wouldn’t mean a thing here without action.
He bowed his head as he felt the familiar warm streaks of tears. He listened to the patter as they fell to the floor. He looked over to his desk, where a surprise picture Lunar Fang had taken of him and Trixie sharing a plate of lo-mein at the Kirin restaurant Grif had recommended to them sat. Both muzzles had bumped together in their quest for more of the delicious substance, and the blush on their cheeks was visible through their fur. The frame soon joined the articles, along with Watcher, his violin, and a group photo from Hammer Strike’s wedding. He looked to the armor stand, and then walked over to the wardrobe, opening its doors to reveal the sets of human clothes Rarity had made for him back when he first arrived in Equestria so long ago. Images of family and loved ones from Earth lashed through his mind, and his breathing hitched as his vision passed from the closet back to his other belongings.
In the end, he knew the choice he had to make. He just wished the consequences didn’t have to be so high. He took the book Pensword had given him what felt like such a long time ago, and laid it down on the wardrobe floor between the set of dress shoes and sneakers. A single shot of concentrated magic from his horn, and a beautifully carved ice chest sat on four stout legs where the book had been. A magic circle surrounded it, pulsing gently to maintain the temperature. A distorted black mass inside the chest’s walls was the only thing to mar the presentation. He stroked the lid with a hoof as the tears continued to roll.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. He turned, and motioned the doors shut with a toss of his horn as he made his way back to his bed. The articles he’d picked up returned to their proper places, save for the two pictures. Vital Spark buried his muzzle into the pillow as he sobbed, taking the frames between his hooves, and clutching them close to his chest as he let the tears go. The pain would fade eventually, but to bottle things up would do nobody any good. And so he let it go, turning onto his back to stare at the ceiling, until his tears would cease. Then … well, he’d decide when he got there.
“So, Hammer Strike, any word from Daring Do? I’d like to know where we stand there, before Grif and I head out to Ys,” Pensword began in Draconic as he sat in his beanbag chair in Hammer Strike’s office.
“Yearling has just started the search,” Hammer Strike replied.
“Ah, so her book will be out soon, and we’ll get to read it while we wait. I like that.” Pensword grinned. “Out of curiosity, where are you storing your stuff from Earth?”
Hammer Strike simply opened the side of his coat, revealing the pockets within.
“Of course. Pockets of endless space.” He looked down at a hoof, then back up. “Oh, I know I wanted to do some small talk, but I’d better let you know. We have plans in place for what to do, if we are attacked again. That means that the Thestrals will fight, until they have to retreat to either the compound or the walls, whereupon they will be folded into defensive units. Also, while I am gone, you’ll be talking to Lafayette again as the go-to for whatever counts as official military currently.”
“I’ll be sure to inform the Shields of this.”
“Sounds good,” Pensword chirped happily. “Also, did I see you starting on the second wall this morning for the Hall of Paragons and the Thestral compound? Oh, and thank you for the plans for the air docks. They should be finished by the end of February, assuming we don’t have any interruptions.”
“Since the layout has finally been settled, and there haven’t been any more … complications, we’ve been able to move forward, and build the secondary wall, securing the land for the residential and commercial district.”
“I am glad. That means you’ll be getting more troops, and … we won’t risk any setbacks, if we’re attacked again. You do know that one of my first missions with my full army is to march and find that hive to give that insect a taste of her own tactics.”
“If she lives long enough to see that day, that is,” Hammer Strike said with a faint grin.
“She’s a Changeling Queen. Unless we do something, like drop a thaumic bomb on her, and destroy her soul utterly, I think I will have my campaign against her.”
“I wouldn’t be opposed to such options. With all that she has done, I don’t think I’d have a problem doing it.”
“Then I guess that will be a project for you to work on,” Pensword said with a smirk. “Speaking of projects, when I get back, can we start on that man cave idea we had?”
“Simple enough,” Hammer Strike nodded. “I’ll make a design over time.”
“Come on,” Grif said as he was searched for the third time. “Just a stiletto? What if the yellow bellies turn on me? You're going to leave me there completely unarmed?”
“The Diamond Dogs have a spell applied to them by Clover that blunts their claws and fangs. If any of them tried to bite you, it would feel like being bitten by the fangs of a plush alligator. Clover will be doing the same for your talons and beak,” the Thestral guard from the Bear Clan spoke. “I should warn you, Pensword is there only to act as a pincushion. He will step between any fights you or the Diamond Dogs may start.” The Thestral looked about nervously. “It … doesn’t exactly help that the Bulldog asked for him by name. Whatever this is, they’ve stacked the deck against them quite thoroughly.”
“Yeah, yeah. “Grif rolled his eyes as the guard finished his pat down. “Are you satisfied you got everything?”
“No, but I’ve already exceeded my allotted three searches. You probably have more weapons hidden away someplace, but I urge you to remember not to kill anyone today. That is an order that came directly from Hammer Strike. You know the bounds for that, and the rules of exceptions associated with it. Please, act accordingly.”
“Yeah, I know. Now open the door, and let’s get this farce taken care of,” Grif growled.
The stallion gave a curt nod to the other guards manning the entrance. The double doors were tall and broad, arching upwards to grant entry to even the largest of creatures, barring the older dragons, of course. They opened to reveal a long table littered with folders, papers, and multiple pitchers and glasses filled with water for the discussions. Pensword sat waiting at the head of the table.
Two Diamond Dogs sat on the Pegasus’ right. The first was stout, and his many furrows of fur and droopy jowls left him with a natural frown as his canines jutted up slightly from his lower jaw. His white fur had been carefully groomed, and his dark eyes gazed placidly at the Gryphon. His expression betrayed neither fear nor hatred, simply peace, neutrality, and a hint of regret. The bulldog had likely had much time to prepare that face. The fact he managed to keep up that expression in the face of one of the most dangerous of their natural enemies was quite a feat. The second Diamond Dog was tall, and well toned. His muscles were neither bulky nor lean. His fur glinted in the light, the black patches letting off a brief flash of blue as he turned to face the Avatar of Winds.
Both stood as Grif entered the room proper. The Gryphon eyed the last chair, which lay to Pensword’s left, giving him a proper view of both Dogs, and giving him a chance to gauge them properly. He strode slowly to the chair, not trusting himself to speak. Every instinct in him screamed that he should kill the traitors on the spot, but his oath to Hammer Strike forbade it, at least for now. He clenched his hands, before laying them on the table, and turning to stare the representatives down.
The two Dogs bowed low, raising their paws up to expose their rough pads. Grif recalled the papers Pensword had prepped for him. According to the information they had gained on the canines’ culture, this was a huge sign of submission towards whatever person they mimed this action towards. They also wore only robes. There were neither chest plates nor cuirass to protect their chests or bellies. And unlike Grif’s previous encounters with the creatures, these two didn’t seem to stink up the room.
Grif was a bit surprised, but did his best to hide it as he took his seat.
Pensword nodded his head towards the German Shepherd. “This one is the representative from what equates to the tech tribe. They are the ones who designed the device that delivered their initial request for an audience to Hammer Strike. He has asked that he be given the honor of speaking first to properly explain why they wish to speak to you, Avatar of the Winds. I will not be contributing to this discussion, save in the role of mediator. You cannot ask me for advice, nor can you expect me to defend you, save if the words spoken are slanderous or without base in fact. I will offer the same courtesy to these delegates. Do you agree to these terms?”
“I agree,” Grif growled out as he crossed his arms.
The Shepherd rose from his position of submission, and nodded to his companion, who took a seat. His accent was thick and clipped, but not impossible to understand. “First, I vish to speak on ze behalf of mein colleagues at ze monastery. Zey all send Zeir greetings, unt Zeir well wishes.” He cleared his throat. “If you would grant us a small indulgence, I wish to begin with a piece of history. You do not trust us, unt we do not expect you to do so. However, what I have to say this day is truth. Long ago, the one you call Anubis became ze leader of our nation, or rather, vat once vas a nation. He vas a ruler not unlike ze line of emperors vich dominate your society today.”
Grif let out a snarl as he stood to his full height. “The Cult of Anubis was nothing like the emperor.”
“I refer to ze nature of his power as head of state, herr Avatar, not by acts or deeds, which, as I am sure history has taught you well, vary from person to person for good or ill among all rulers.” He cleared his throat, and continued. “As canines, a rule is held sacred above all others in our culture. Indeed, it is embedded into our very beings, and in a way, the very magics our race once wielded long ago. That rule, nein, that compulsion, was simply this: to obey ze alpha. It was this compulsion zat pushed our ancestors to acquire certain … artifacts of great power at even greater risk to themselves, all at ze alpha Anubis’ request. I believe you are familiar with zese artifacts, yes?”
“The gems later used for the Crown of Berenziah, your other short-lived king,” Grif stated.
“Exakt,” he said as he nodded. “However, vat history does not mention is zat zere vere not five gems. Nein. Zere vere seven.” The Shepherd paused to take a sip from his glass, and allow the gravity of his words to sink in.
Grif slammed a fist on the table. “There were only five used in the binding, and I went through hell to get them. I still have no idea where the khopesh is hidden, and you’re telling me that I have to find two more?”
“Nein.” The Diamond Dog shook his head. “Zey are safe, well hidden, well protected. Our ancestors made certain of that at great peril to their lives. Zey broke ze taboo, unt zey paid ze price. For to break ze unspoken law, even in the pursuit of a goal to prevent an evil that could come to pass, is still to bring down wrath. Ve no longer have magic. Such was ze price zat our whole race paid. However, our gods were … somewhat merciful to our two branches. Ve do not degrade as our former pack brothers do.”
“You lost magic?” Grif roared in rage. “My people were damned to thousands of years of war upon ourselves. Diseases we once could fight now kill thousands! Our law code has degraded to a bunch of arbitrary standards that only apply on those weaker than yourself. Do you understand what your people did, how many Gryphons die needlessly? And you claim the loss of your magic is a price even comparable?”
The Bulldog shook his head. “No, but you have your emperor, and your cities. Our race is scattered, and save for our two sects, live in the caves, having many alphas who fight and die for their dominance on a regular basis. Our packs are scattered and strewn about with neither rhyme nor reason. Our once great cities have long since crumbled to nothing, and knowledge has slipped from them to the point where some can hardly even be considered sapient anymore. We have reaped the consequences of our actions, and they have reaped theirs. Outside of our two packs, many dogs don’t read, and even less can write. They don’t even remember the truth anymore. They search blindly for a gem powerful enough to restore even a semblance of the glory our people once bore.”
“Either way, it seems you have me at a disadvantage here,” Grif grumbled. “If you truly possess these gems, then you stand in my way of bringing the Winds back, and possibly keeping my race from becoming extinct before the millennium is out. Have you come to ransom them, to hold them to my face? What do you want?” Grif sneered at the last part.
“Ve vant vat our ancestors vanted, Grif Grafson,” the Shepherd said simply, “to repair ze wrong zat was done. Ve have hidden ourselves from our brothers and sisters, because ve have vat zey seek. However, ze gems have told us ze time for hiding is done. They sense ze gathering. And, indeed, if ve are not mistaken, it is zese gems, or rather, zeir source, that keeps our own packs from becoming no better than ze others.”
“And that,” the Bulldog continued, “means one thing. If you are to gather the gems together in their true full power, either we suffer our two packs to become no better than our brethren and sisters within two generations’ time or … we move with the gems, place them into your keeping, ... and designate you our alpha. Should you accept, then if you wish us to worship the Winds, we will do so. If you would have us fight for you and die in the field of battle, we will obey. Your word would become law to us, just as Anubis’ once was so many years ago.”
“I don’t care who you worship, and I don’t want to be your alpha,” Grif spat. “But I will take your help, if for no other reason than I have little choice in the matter.” Pensword could tell it was clearly hard for Grif to say this. “But I won’t be returning the five to you, once the Winds return.”
The Bulldog looked like Grif had shoved an entire lemon into his muzzle. “We would never demand such a thing in the first place. Do with them as you please. We have no need for them. We only ask that we be allowed to keep the two we have protected, after they have been used, so that our packs may continue to survive.” He balled his fist, and coughed into it, his cultured English voice ringing in the air. “The gems have a magic, and whether you like it or not, you’ll be considered our alpha, simply by possessing them, should they accept you.”
“Then why have your ‘brothers’ warred with us for so many years to try and retrieve the other gems?” Grif asked.
“The reason why they war for the gems is as varied as there are members of our packs. From the misguided thoughts that we would regain our former glory to bringing Anubis back from the dead to just wanting to hold onto a piece of our heritage, our history,” the Bulldog answered. “They’ve warred with us, too. They know as well as we that our packs are still the same as the day of banishment.”
“Regardless, it is ze will of our leaders zat ze gems be reunited, so zat ze best outcome may come to pass for all, and so prophecy may be fulfilled, both from your Vinds unt from our more spiritually minded counterparts, ze monks. Long ago, one of your party journeyed to our twin monasteries to study. If ze rumors are to be believed, she is also ze same mare who cast ze spell to blunt our claws and teeth. If you wish to gain an unbiased opinion, perhaps you should speak with her on ze matter,” the Shepherd suggested.
“I will,” Grif assured them as he narrowed his gaze suspiciously. “For now, what do you intend to do? You can’t stay in this fortress, for the time being. You know that.”
“We understand that. That is why we have also sent envoys to Princess Luna. Until you come to a decision, our packs will move into the caves around Filly De Ys, under a form of sanctuary. This will allow us to continue to live in peace, and should assist in the deterrence of any rogue packs that might seek to destroy us or the precious artifacts we guard,” the bulldog said with a smile. “She has most graciously agreed.”
“Then I’ll contact you, when I have Anubis’ khopesh. Then we can make the preparations,” Grif said as he thrust his chair back unceremoniously. “I have preparations of my own to make for a journey that cannot be delayed, so I will bid you all adieu.”
“May ze faithfulness of Father Fenris keep you,” the Shepherd said with a bow.
“May the strength of his teeth deliver you from harm,” the Bulldog continued.
“As they have our own,” they echoed together.
Pensword stared in confusion, then tilted his head as his eyes glazed over. His body soon followed, and he nearly fell out of his chair. “Fenris?”
Just inside the border of the Everfree Forest came a sight not often seen. Several Royal Guards stood on the Ponyville side of the border. They were dressed in their polished armor, and brandished their spears. One had a red cape denoting his rank as a squad leader. Just inside the border, Grif stood glaring at them grim-faced. Behind him stood several Rohirrim in full armor.
Between both groups sat a Unicorn and a Pegasus. The two took turns swapping nervous glances at the Royal Guards, and pleading looks at Grif and the Rohirrim. Grif had been taking a small group, in order to cover the new patrol routes he wanted them to take while he was away, when they’d discovered the duo being chased by the guard. When they had touched the border, Grif had naturally told the guardsponies to back off as he established who he was, and that he would take the pair into custody.
The squad leader was obviously bred from higher nobility, because he immediately made a point of sneering at this claim, and boasting how the two were wanted criminals, and he would be the one to take them into custody, despite Grif’s pointing out the lands were Hammer Strike’s, and as such, they had no authority past the border. It had resulted in several thrown insults, before one of the Royal Guards pointed out to his superior that they really didn’t have the right to cross into Hammer Strike’s lands without permission, unless they had an order from the princess. They sent a Pony running to Twilight, and Grif penned a message, and sent it straight to Hammer Strike. So it was that the group sat at odds, waiting for their superiors to come and settle the matter.
Grif took his time to observe the pair of fugitives in the interim. The Unicorn was on the taller side, and leaner. He had a dark gray coat with a pitch-black mane and tail. He wore a pair of spectacles, and his dark gray eyes seemed to burn with an a strange intensity, even in their current worried state. Grif couldn’t make out the Pony’s cutie mark, as he was wearing a long black coat. The part in the coat over his front revealed what seemed to be a formal vest, although the collar reached right up to his neck, so Grif couldn’t be sure. He wore red hoof covers on his forehooves, and seemed to actually be wearing black dress pants that almost completely covered his hind legs. Black chains had been wrapped around the fetlocks of both sets of legs. Black saddlebags and several sheathed daggers were visible.
The Pegasus was a shorter mare. Her orange-red mane was long and straight, hanging almost to her front knees. Her coat was a lighter pink, and her eyes were a startling shade of violet. Unlike her companion, she wore a less conspicuous costume consisting of a green windbreaker with a hood full of white faux fur, and a white loose-fitting shirt beneath it. She wore a pair of black headphones that seemed to go behind her mane with red ear cushions. She wore a set of black leg warmers on her back legs, and her cutie mark seemed to be a red splat not unlike a bloodstain with white flowers in a line near the bottom.
The strangest thing to Grif was that the pair hadn’t said anything, hadn’t pleaded their innocence or demanded any kind of asylum. They hadn’t spoken a word since this standoff happened, but they hadn’t come by accident. They were making a beeline for Hammer Strike’s lands specifically. Why they had could be worked out later. For now, all he could do was wait for Twilight or Hammer Strike to arrive, and get these Royal Guards off his case.
“I was requested?” Hammer Strike asked aloud as he emerged from the road into the Everfree.
Grif cut the squad leader off, before he could say anything. “Could you please inform this gentlecolt that these supposed thieves are on your lands, and so we’ll take them into custody? He doesn’t need to take them to Canterlot.”
“I can’t believe this,” Hammer Strike grumbled, before turning towards the guards. “I’ve argued with every guard from here to Canterlot over this issue. This is myland, meaning it works under my rules, and is policed by my guard.” He drew closer to the squad leader, putting emphasis on each word with every step. “I have a mountain of paperwork sitting in my office right now. And while I love arguing with every guard that feels they have a higher authority, let me put this simply. You do not have control of my land. They are here in my land, and my guard will handle them. So you are free to leave, and let me and those under my employ return to work.”
“Sir.” Grif nodded “All right, my friends. You heard Lord Hammer Strike. Follow the boys in the shiny armor nice and quietly, and no harm will come to you. I doubt you’ll get such an offer from the monsters in the forest.”
“Aren't you going to take their weapons? Or at least searchthem for weapons?” one of the Royal Guards queried.
“If we’re attacked on our way back to New Unity, they’d be more useful with them. And if they want to try using them on us–.” The guard felt a breeze past his left ear. “They’ll be dead, before they finish drawing their knives,” Grif finished, walking over to retrieve his throwing blade as he gestured to a small pile of white hair on the ground. “All right, everybody. Three ahead, three behind me, and Hammer Strike will follow behind. Thank you, gentleponies, and good day.” Grif waved to the guards with a smug grin as he and the rest of Unity’s guards entered into the forest with their new prisoners.
After some time of walking, Hammer Strike finally spoke. “Now, why would a duo of wanted individuals make their way to my lands?”
The stallion looked over to his companion, before giving a small nod. “We’ve come to ask for your help.”
Hammer Strike raised a curious brow. “And what help are you seeking?”
The stallion looked nervously towards Grif, then back to Hammer Strike. “Help in dealing with our record. Our last job didn’t end the way it was supposed to.”
“We were set up,” the mare interrupted. “I should have seen it coming.”
“What she said,” the stallion frowned. “It was supposed to be a simple job. In and out, without an issue, but upon our exit, we were confronted and chased, eventually leading to our criminal record.”
Hammer Strike hummed to himself. “So, you’re what, thieves?”
The stallion shook his head. “Not in the traditional sense, though it wouldn’t be hard to manage that.”
“A gentleman thief and his intelligence gatherer,” Grif chuckled. “People hire him to steal things, usually information, and as the rumors go, he can steal traits, and she can find out just about anything for him.”
Hammer Strike hummed again to himself. “So, you’ve come to me for help in clearing your record.” A small smile appeared on his muzzle. “What other skills do you two have?”
The stallion rubbed the back of his neck. “I can manage things, and perform a lot of different tasks.”
“I’m good at organizing information and documents, and am able to keep track of many different assets,” the mare commented.
“If my sources are accurate, these two were at one time being investigated for being part of a much larger group,” Grif noted, “but the information on said group is sparse, so the Guard couldn’t push anything”
“My name is Silent Collector,” the stallion commented after a time.
“I’m Oracle,” the mare followed afterwards.
“You know what?” Hammer Strike’s smile widened into a smirk. “I have an idea for how to deal with the two of you.”
“Okay, Nanami, so remember. Starting tomorrow, Day Moon will be coming to you at three. You’re to run him through forms five, eight, and ten. After that, you can advance at your own discretion, until I get back, but keep notes for me. If any documents come in, place them in my office, and remember to lock it behind you.” Grif handed her his key with some trepidation. “You can handle that, right?”
“You act as though I’ve never had to train an acolyte before,” she said with a smirk. “We’ll be fine, Grif. Go. Enjoy your time with your mates. You have a future to attend to there just as much as you do here.”
“When those scouts get back, start sending regular flight patrols out in that area. Best to keep it under surveillance. If there is an attack, the clan should know what to do.” The Gantrithorhovered overhead, ready to leave. Grif, Avalon, Shrial, Gilda, and the cubs all waited to board the ship. Some more patiently than others. Each gave their goodbyes and well-wishes, while Pensword, Lunar Fang, and Fox Feather did the same not far off. Pensword had decided it was best to leave the foals behind this time, a decision Moon River did not approve of as she held onto Bellacosa with a grip of iron.
Pensword sighed as he shook his head. “Moon River, would you please let Cosy go?”
Moon River shook her head adamantly.
Pensword sighed again. “What do you want?”
“Cosy!”
Pensword was glad to know she liked him, but her stubbornness here was a problem. “He has to go back home to Cadence. Don’t you think his sisters and Shining will miss him, too?”
Moon River just shook her head, and shrieked at the top of her lungs. “MINE!” Cosy wasn’t exactly helping when he chuckled at her antics. That only gave her more motivation.
Pensword facehoofed. “Moon River, you have till the count of three to let go, or I will have you moved, and you won’t have any desert till I get back,” he threatened.
She hissed, and flared her wings wide.
“One,” Pensword began. Lunar Fang narrowed her eyes, and while Moon River was the focus of her gaze, the others around the mother shrank back from the rapidly flaring glare. Moon River stood her ground, but her wings began to drop.
“Two.” Pensword twitched a wing towards Vital, whose horn began to glow and hum. Lunar Fang’s eyes began to flash as she raised her brow and pawed a hoof menacingly on the ground. Her wings twitched at her sides as she bore a hint of her fangs in an intimidating snarl.
“Three,” Pensword finished. Moon River was still clinging to Cosy, but her eyes watered, and her lips began to wobble as the first streaks came down her cheeks. The full force of Lunar Fang’s glare bore fruit, and her eyes seemed to glow with an unholy flame. Her wings snapped fully open as she tossed her mane, and snorted adamantly, before stomping her hoof on the ground.
Moon River still didn’t budge.
Pensword nodded to Vital, and sighed. He hated doing this to her, but it had to be done. She needed to learn her limits, and this discipline would be the best thing for her. “Do it.”
“Sorry, Moon River,” Vital said as his magical aura surrounded her. In a matter of seconds, he’d pulled her forelegs apart, followed by her hind legs. Then it was a simple matter of binding her wings with his will, and levitating her towards Lunar Fang. The unholy wailing was enough to cause even the stoutest of hearts to cringe as Lunar Fang took a firm grip on her daughter, and promptly nipped her sharply on the ear.
“That’s enough of that,” she snapped. “Cosy has to go home. You’ll have plenty of time to spend with him later, young lady. Now you stop it, and behave, or so help me, I’ll take away your toys for a week!”
Moon River’s eyes went wide at the threat. Her muzzle quivered.
From the side, one of the Thestrals from the Dream Clan stepped forward, and gingerly took Moon River into her winged embrace from Lunar Fang as she hummed an ancient tune. That seemed to work as Moon River drifted off to sleep, though the look she gave Vital made him worry about what he would find in the coming days.
“Stop looking so nervous,” Grif told Gilda as he walked up to her, and wrapped a wing around her. “That's a long way off for you yet.”
“I ... I don’t know if I’ll be any good at it,” Gilda whispered as she looked at the other mothers and their cubs.
“I don’t know if I’ll be good at it either,” Grif shrugged. “It’s an adventure we’ll have to work on one step at a time, okay?” He kissed her gently.
“One step, one flap of the wing,” Gilda responded as she looked at the ship. “I … I never thought my life would recover.” She stopped, before a very sure cocky grin spread on her beak. “Though a thought just occurred to me, Grif. You may just have a new sister-in-law. Dashy’s my little sis, after all.”
“So you want me to invite her and Kahn over, so I can loom over him while cleaning my extensive knife collection?” Grif chuckled.
“You know it.” Gilda broke into a fit of laughter.
“Once we get back,” he promised. “For now, you should enjoy the trip, and maybe get some pointers from Shrial. If what Zecora said is true, your talons are going to be full.”
“Don’t remind me,” Gilda groaned. “Let me just focus on the trip, okay?”
“I’ll try,” he chuckled, “but it is a husband’s obligation to tease his wives from time to time, you know.” Then he winked at her.
Pensword leaned down to nuzzle Day Moon, Cristo, and Inigo. “My dear sons, my dear nephews, please know that It hurts me to leave all my children behind, but this is something I must face on my own. I have not been home since the end of the Third Gryphon War. It feels like ages ago, and I must … face this demon alone with those that saw me at my rawest.” He looked up at the other Demon Slayers. “You watch over the base and the castle. Be ready to fight, but also help in the construction.” Pensword got hugs in return, before the three turned, and flew up to the entrance of the Gantrithor. “I don’t know why I even called this the Giant to begin with,” he muttered.
Grif gave a nod to Hammer Strike, who stood at the back of the group of people seeing them off. He’d come back to a virtual mountain of paperwork, so the fact that he’d shown up at all meant alot. With that, Grif led his family aboard, letting them head for their quarters as he made his way to the bridge to begin prepping.
“You want me on the Bridge, Captain?” Pensword asked Grif as he walked at his side. “Also, which cabins will I be assigned to in Filly De Ys?”
“You can pretty much pick your own, Pensword,” Grif chuckled “There’s only us here. You can hang around, if you want to, though” he noted as he flipped a few switches, relaying everything so a single person could steer the ship.
Hammer Strike led Silent Collector and Oracle through the New Unity corridors. “Based off of the information Grif has given me, I believe I can use your unique talents,” he smiled. After some travel, they came across a longer hallway leading towards his office. “How well do you both believe you can handle sorting and managing through paperwork?”
Oracle almost laughed. “Piece of cake.”
Silent Collector hummed. “It’s been awhile, but I can manage.”
“Good.” Hammer Strike opened the doors to his office, revealing stacks of paperwork all over his desk and nearby tables. “Here’s my deal for the two of you. I am in need of assistants to help manage all the paperwork I have to deal with on a daily basis. If you help me manage all of this, and keep everything nice and orderly, I will ensure your protection, and potentially offer you some proper employment.”
Oracle went wide-eyed as she looked at all the paperwork, while Silent’s expression dropped ever so slightly. “What in the world do you manage to have this much paperwork?” Oracle cried out in surprise.
“City management, letters from nobility, dealing with the guard. You name it, I’ve probably got it.” Hammer Strike turned towards the two of them. “So, I ensure your security, and you take the job of my assistants. Do we have a deal?”
Silent Collector’s expression shifted to a smile. “I’m sure we can manage this,” he responded with confidence.
Hammer Strike smiled. “Perfect. Perhaps I’ll actually get some more free time after this.” He chuckled to himself. “Unlikely, but I’ll look forward to your assistance.” He gestured for them to follow him as he turned to exit the office. “Follow me. I’ll lead you to your own quarters, and … your workspace.”
He led them through the corridors once more, though it wasn’t long, before he stopped once again, directing them through another door. Inside were a few oak desks with a large circular desk in the center. The floor was covered in a deep blue carpet, while the windows were blocked by curtains of the same color. The status of the room was above par, leading the group to believe it was recently refurbished.
“This will be your workspace. I’ll move some filing cabinets and other means of storage into this room later to help with your organization. Other supplies will be managed later.”
Silent Collector looked around the room in wonder. “Question, sir. Do you by chance know of a Gryphon with a long beak?”
Hammer Strike hummed to himself as he scratched at his chin. “I can’t say that I do.”
Silent frowned for a moment, before returning to his neutral expression. “Oh well,” he shrugged. “It was a stretch, anyways.”
Oracle, on the other hoof, was busy looking around the room, muttering to herself as she planned how to go about their future.
“You know, I was expecting something in response about having to work for me. Perhaps some concern or something, but the two of you seem content,” Hammer Strike commented as he looked between the two.
“Well,” Oracle started, “to be fair, it’s either we do this, or rot in prison.” She turned towards Hammer Strike with a smile. As soon as her eyes met his, she looked away, and rubbed at her foreleg nervously.
“Quite.” Hammer Strike hummed, before moving towards the door. “I believe I can find some use of your service in both dealing with paperwork, and perhaps some other tasks fitting to your skill sets, but we’ll save that for another discussion. Come now. I’ll lead you to your quarters. I hope you both don’t mind sharing a room. We’re not done with the new residential buildings yet. You know, hotels, some houses, etcetera.”
“Oh, that won’t be a problem,” Silent Collector chuckled as he used his magic to shift his mane, revealing a golden band while Oracle lifted her coat to reveal another golden band around her hoof. “We’re happily together.”
Hammer Strike smiled. “That makes things easier.” He gestured the two of them to follow. “Come. I’ll show you your room.”
“Now don’t worry about me getting back to New Unity. I’ve been told that Luna has a surprise to show me in Ys that will help with travel,” Pensword said as he and Grif sat at the table. The meal had long since passed, and Cosy had been tucked into bed, leaving the adults alone to have their discussions in peace.
“Good, because I’ve drawn up the route to go straight back to Unity afterwards. And honestly, I don’t like both of us being gone at the moment, with the way the scouts have been,” Grif noted as he took a drink of his favorite raspberry cordial.
“Wait, what did the scouts find this time?” Pensword asked, concerned. “Besides, Luna said this was needed for me and my return to becoming full Commander again.”
“They found tracks, and noted unusual wildlife activity. It’s nothing too large at the moment, but they have suspicions,” Grif noted.
“I am suddenly regretting leaving my children at home,” Pensword muttered as he facehoofed. “But then we wouldn’t have been able to tear Moon River away from Cosy when get got off at Ys, and that could mean a month of her staying in the Crystal Empire.” Pensword buried his muzzle into his wing. “I never was this bad as a two year old in either world, so why do Ihave to deal with it?” To Grif, it sounded for just a moment as if the two minds had spoken as one.
“Because children are children. And honestly, Thestrals are warriors. That means a never-back-down spirit. I know the twins are going to be tough when they get there. I just hope I’ll be ready.”
“I’m sure you will be,” Pensword assured him as he sipped at his tea. “Still, I am nervous. The last time I was in the mountains, the scars were still visible, the ruins standing, and I felt like I was living it all over again. I ... don’t know how I’ll handle it this time.”
“If I can visit the Farflyers, you can do this,” Grif told him. “It’ll be okay.”
Pensword took a steady breath. “I know. I know. It’s just … something feels like it’s coming full circle, but I don’t know what it is. I just feel … nervous. How does it look? How did the Dream Clan maintain it? What’s changed?”
“You trust your mother's clan?” Grif asked.
“I do. It doesn’t help stop the fear, though. Gramma called the town’s space sacred and hallowed, so I don’t know what will happen.”
“Have faith, Pensword. All will be well,” Grif promised as he took another sip of his drink.
Pensword sighed. “I suppose I have no choice. Matthew, seems to be very thoughtful for some reason.” Pensword frowned as his brow furrowed. “Grif, I can feel myself shifting to be more loyal to Equestria than Earth, than the United States. I think, if a conflict were to arise, I would side with Equestria, too. Is … is this normal? Was that normal when you and Taze merged?”
“I can’t say if it’s normal,” Pensword. I cansay that, for me, it’s what felt right. You have to understand. What I went through wasn’t a simple merging. Both my other selves ceased to be. What was left over is just Grif. I know that before it happened, both Grif and Taze were a little frightened, but who isn’t a little scared to die?”
“I am not scared to die, but … do you mean to say that when that happened, it could be technically be called your birthday?”
“When you talked to me later that day, it was the first time we actually met. I remembered you. I knew you both from Taze and Grif’s memories, but it was the first time I met you as the new me,” Grif explained. “I’ve got both sets of memories, but I’m not like either of them, really. Not fully. I share many traits. I like to read, and I enjoy the thrill of combat, but I also have things neither did. Taze couldn’t take a lot of spicy food, and the old Grif never really cared for it. I actually enjoy it. I enjoy poetry and abstract art more than either of them, too. Little things like that. I’m not either of them, but I come from both of them. Can you accept that reality?”
Pensword shook his head. “No. The two of us would rather have an accord, or the like, but … something in my gut says that your path is a bad one for me. Still, thank you for helping to explain that part of your … creation to me.” He yawned. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to get some sleep. Are you still up for some Thaumic crystal training in the morning?”
Grif smiled. “You know it, Pensword.”
Pensword stood in the dream realm. He felt his fur rise on the back of his neck as he scanned left and right. The world rippled, and he found himself somewhere else entirely. Clouds surrounded him on all sides, and he could feel the familiar cold of extremely high elevations. Looking down, he noticed he was standing atop what felt like a pillar of some sort. It clopped against his hoof as he tapped it. Off in the distance, he could just make out another pillar with a familiar Alicorn standing tall and proud.
“HO, MY COMMANDER!” Luna shouted in her Canterlot voice. “WELCOME TO YOUR TRAINING TONIGHT! FOR NOT ALL YOUR FIGHTS SHALL BE UPON OR CLOSE TO THE GROUND. TONIGHT, WE FIGHT IN THE ELEMENT THAT ALL WINGED BEINGS CALL THEIR HOME: THE AIR!” With those words, Luna launched herself into the clouds, and Pensword followed, finding himself suddenly holding his Gryphon bow without so much as a thought. He raised his hoof, and fired an arrow.
Luna dodged it easily. “USING WEAPONS! HUZZAH! AND ONES THAT ONE WOULD NOT EXPECT A PONY TO USE! MOST IMPRESSIVE!” She grinned, and slammed her wings together to create an air current that warped and boiled in front of him, spreading around her. Pensword tilted his wings, and rode out the disturbances as he dipped and rose to pass through the next volley. Suddenly, Luna was upon him, kicking him low, and he found himself trapped once again in the turbulence. He fought with all the strength he could muster. And while he knew he scored hits, a sudden blow from Meteor Impactslammed him all the way down through the clouds to crash into the earth below, leaving a rather sizable crater. Luna alighted at the lip, and smiled down at her pupil.
“That is good, my commander. Like Grif, I shall, in his words, ‘dial it up’ each night as I see fit. Tonight, we will cover aerial tactics, including personal combat and utilizing manifestations of airships to conjure at will. I shall teach thee more about nightmares and ways to combat them, before they are fully entrenched in the minds of their victims.” She sat down. “But first–” a familiar pouch appeared, hovering gently in her magical grip. “–I shall teach thee how to hide thoughts. Matthew is very giddy tonight. That is a weakness, one which I was able to exploit to find a secret you sought to bury.” She prodded the bag curiously with her horn. “So, you have a storm core.”
Pensword bristled, and grit his teeth. Luna grinned as she raised a hoof to rest on the shaft of her mighty hammer. “I see you will fight to protect your war prize. Personally, I would build a warship with that storm core. Hide the secret there as the power source. Then it will merely appear as a manifestation of the defenses you are building in your mind. This flagship would also prove a powerful defense for your dreams, would it not?”
Pensword nodded as a smile pulled at the corners of his mouth, and rapidly widened into a grin. “Another battle?”
Luna slowly unfurled her wings. “Aye, and it shall be glorious!” She charged her horn, and vanished, bringing Pensword up on alert as he dove into the air. He barely avoided the magical blast as rubble and dust flew upwards to pepper his flanks and armor.
The battle raged for what felt like hours on end, always ending the same. Luna would either slam him into submission, hold him at sword point, or cleave off a wing. When regular aerial tactics became tiresome, she taught him how to manifest a vehicle for a swift retreat or a head-on assault. The Pegasus was nowhere near ready to call up a battleship, but he did manage to summon a small sky schooner, where he practiced evasive tactics, while Luna attacked in the form of Nightmare Moon with her own flying galleon, complete with Thestral Night Guard crewmates that, for some reason, were playing trumpets in perfect unison, rather than manning their battle stations. Much silliness ensued as Luna taught him to twist his creations into effective deterrents against a Nightmare’s influence through complete randomness. All seemed lost, until Pensword pulled out the one manifestation of his subconscious he had fought for years to contain.
“Cry havoc, and let slip the Pinkie Pies of war!”
A veritable onslaught of Pinkies bounced, hovered, flew, walked on thin air, poofed, vanished, reappeared, and struck with all manner of techniques including pie throws, streamer ropes, party cannons, riding the Thestrals like bucking broncos, and at one point, strangely enough, holding Twilight Sparkle as she pumped the princess’ tail to fire off magical blasts like a minigun.
Luna grinned as her troops were thoroughly engaged. “Now you’re thinking like a dream hunter!” she crowed as she lunged into the air. Pensword rose to meet her with an equally vicious grin as they clashed once again.
Finally, Pensword found himself tired, but satisfied as he drifted lazily into the courtyard of the training arena from his first night with Luna. The princess soon alighted next to him.
“Huzzah! If I were a mortal Pegasus, your last couple of blows would have killed me. You are getting better, but are you learning what I am teaching you?”
“I think so, Chieftess.” Pensword smiled tiredly as he looked up at her. Luna moved a wing tip over, indicating for him to go on. “You’re trying to teach me how to predict what comes next, so that I can anticipate and overcome Grif when he attacks.”
“Good, good. I want you on the fast track with your training in the waking world, too, after all.” She stood stock still for a moment, staring off into space. After a time, she came to herself again, and shook her head. “Sorry about that. I had to deal with something. Another dream walker required my assistance for a moment. There are so many Ponies to deal with in the kingdom, especially with the addition of the Changelings and my Thestrals. There’s no way I can handle it all by myself anymore.” She smiled kindly. “But you and the foals of Ponyville, and soon of New Unity, you will be under my personal protection.”
“So, being a master of the dream realm, you can split yourself off into multiple selves, like how you separated me from Matthew?”
“Exactly,” Luna replied, “though I am unable to divide my psyche between the manifestations, so I must concentrate on the one projection or the other. That is not a technique you will be learning, but you may be able to learn how to project shadows of yourself in time. That will prove useful in your fight against the coming shadow.”
Pensword bowed his head in gratitude. “I look forward to it, Teacher.”
Sweat dripped from Grif’s form as he finished his two hundredth wingup. It was late, and the night was dark around him. Inside the ship, his family and Pensword, Lunar Fang, and Fox Feather each slept in their rooms, but Grif found himself adverse to sleep tonight. Not that he’d been known to get much sleep lately. He still chuckled, remembering Zecora’s reaction when he’d answered her question of how much sleep he was getting.
‘To work so long with so little rest, it’s a miracle your heart still beats in your breast.’
Surprisingly, rather than forcing him to get a better sleep schedule, the Zebra had added meditation lessons to Grif’s nightly work schedule with her. Zecora had long ago developed a meditation style that replicated the action of sleep upon the body in a more condensed sense, though he’d been warned he should still sleep when possible. He found this method of respite to be both effective and refreshing, and it would no doubt be an asset on nights like this, where he stood the lone sentinel as the ship barreled through the night.
Once he’d finished his physical routine, Grif spent the next hour shooting at targets in the shooting range. After that, he spent another hour practicing his forms and katas with swords, then daggers, then small knives. He spent some time throwing knives in the range, too, to keep his edge. The Thestral tomahawk he’d received was his next objective.
While he hadn’t the skill some of the Thestral weapons masters had with the weapon, he found the small axe was easy to manipulate in his talons. He could maneuver it easily between hands, flip it frontwards or backwards with a gesture, and he enjoyed the powerful overhead chop the weapon specialized in. Furthermore, the weapon’s dual nature as a throwing weapon pleased him, especially since his raptor-feline eyes allowed him to throw the weapon with greater accuracy than most Thestrals in any light.
When he had gone through his weapon training, he carefully sharpened and oiled each weapon, checking the wraps and cords for wear and tear, and strengthening anywhere he felt needed it. When he was pleased, he put the weapons away carefully, keeping only a knife within an arm's reach. He put on his suppression ring, and proceeded to work on molding his thaumic energies. True to Hammer Strike’s words, he felt the new weakness in his field, but he also felt the new possibilities. Currently, he could only increase or decreases momentum on his body, but if he kept working the applications could be endless.
Once he’d finished his Thaumic training, Grif suppressed his field by force of will, and as Zecora had instructed him, he reached for the fire that was his life energy.
“There is no time in battle to focus your concentration. You must find the energy through a different alteration.”
Zecora had taught him to dig deep within himself. Life energy was in everything that lived, and constantly at work. One didn’t need to blank one’s mind to draw it out. One need simply know how to stoke the furnace, and Grif found the furnace quickly. He reached in, and connected with it, willing it to gain heat and ferocity. Soon the result was clear as blue energy began lapping at his body, covering him from head to toe in a sapphire-blue blanket. It didn’t lick at him like flames or crackle like electricity. It flowed over him in jet streams, like the wind that was so tied to his soul. Experimentally, Grif moved his body, and watched the energy follow, tied to him like his own skin.
Laughing, he turned to the sliver of sunlight signaling dawn on the horizon. He clawed at the air, as if attacking an opponent, concentrating on the energy, and forming what he needed it to do in his head. Over a year ago, he’d probably have attempted to replicate the kamehameha wave, the hadouken, or some other attack from Taze’s never-ending source of fictional inspiration. But he wasn’t Taze. He was Grif, and he had something different in mind. He clawed the air faster and faster, blue slash marks hovering there as his talons continued their assault. Finally, when the air around him seemed covered in thin blue marks, he threw his talons forward, and the marks shot out in every direction. The ones that hit the ship scored the metal as Grif roared, “Feral hurricane!” The marks that didn’t hit the ship carried out into the slowly lightening sky for a few seconds, before fading out of existence. Tiredness flooded Grif’s limbs as they did.
He dropped to all fours, and chuckled as he panted. He had something new, neither thaumic nor magic. This was something that he could truly call his own style, an ace in the hole. He panted for several minutes, before he returned to the first position, and reached for the fire within once more. He needed to practice.
Pensword stood on the bow of the ship above what he had dubbed the Yamato Cannon. A grin formed on his muzzle as he watched the towers of Filly De Ys peeking above the horizon. The former the fortress undefeated, held by Gryphons so many years ago, was now his own barony, had served as a refuge for Thestrals during the Lunar Princess’ imprisonment, and now served as the capital of the Lunar Court. A thrill of anticipation flowed through him at the thought of being able to see Luna in the flesh again.
The castle loomed head of them as the clouds dispersed. A thousand years of regular maintenance and Luna’s own personal modifications had done the fortress well. Black onyx and marble had been added to the outer wall to give the building a darker look. Banners hung over the long wall as they approached. The first and largest bore Luna's cutie mark with an ursa major superimposed over it. Four other banners, each bearing the animal of major thestral tribes stood on either side. The lion, dragon, manticore, and ursa minor stared bleakly at any potential intruders that might arrive. A stray wind caused another piece of fabric to wrap around the corner of the wall, and Pensword smiled at the sight. Of course the princess would make sure all the tribes were properly represented. It was doubtless the other animals of the tribes would be watching from each side, standing as silent guardians against unwelcome forces. The tops of the fortress’ towers had been plated in finely polished silverite imbued with moonlight and studded heavily with moonstones, resulting in a soft silver gleam that shone by day and night.
The wall-walks were lined with armed watchponies decked in ebony chainmail. Large blackwood ballistae had been constructed at the corners of each wall. Pensword’s eyes widened as the ship passed over what had once been the courtyard of the structure. The massive pasture now housed the construction yards for three airships. The one in the middle had recently been finished, and its envelope filled with magic gas. Its hull was encased in mithril, and the metal shell had been chemically blackened, save for a single highly polished crescent moon that had been painstakingly engraved at the port and on the starboard bow. The undercarriage consisted of four separate decks, with the top two decks lined by gun ports, while larger portals had been constructed to allow flyers to enter or depart the ship at will. Slits surrounded the openings for archers and crossbowponies to defend the entrances. The wooden structure had been painted black to match its metal shell. As a final touch, a fancy script at the bow proclaimed the name of the ship: MV Moon’s Throne.
Grif let out a low whistle. “For a Pony ship, it’s not a bad design.”
“Well, Thestrals think tactically,” Pensword said with a shrug. He couldn’t help but smile. He was finally getting used to Grif appearing out of nowhere. “I am guessing Shrial is piloting the ship?”
“Circlet,” Grif corrected. “The girls are getting Gilda ready for what's to come.”
“Which is?” Pensword asked curiously. “Because, if I am not deaf or blind, she makes wife number three for you, doesn’t she?”
“I figured you’d have figured it out,” Grif said as he reached into his saddle bags, and pulled out a small tin. He flipped it open to reveal an assortment of round pink tablets. He took one, and popped it into his beak. “Wow, Bon Bon knows her work. These things might actually be stronger than the ones back on Earth. Anyway, I figured you’d be the first to question just when me and Gilda would have a chance to elope.”
“Okay, when are you two going to elope? And what was that, a mint?” Pensword asked.
Grif offered the tin to Pensword with a grin. “Care for an supernaturally strong British-like mint?”
“Don’t mind, if I do,” Pensword said, using his Queen's English accent. Grif put the mint on Pensword’s extended feather, and then Pensword popped it into his mouth. “Woah,” he gasped. “Now that is good.”
“I bought a tin back with me, only managed to give them to Bon-bon just before we left for the empire. She handed me these, when I went to Ponyville on Wednesday, said they were on the house. Apparently, Ponies seem to really like them,” Grif chuckled.
“I can see why. It really is a novelty, and the strength in the mint really rouses the senses. I am happy to see you helping Equestria progress. Maybe this will cause more innovations with candy and the like in the future.”
“Yes, but Pensword, this is all natural. That's what's amazing. Bonbon replicated it with no synthetic ingredients.”
“Dang,” Pensword muttered as he shifted the mint to the side of his mouth. “That is impressive.”
“Anyway, Gilda and I were hoping Luna would help us smooth everything over,” Grif noted.
“I’m sure she would love to marry you,” Pensword warmly.
Grif cleared his throat somewhat nervously. “Thank, Pensword.” Then he turned back to the viewing window. “Looks like they don’t have any room on the dock. I’ll have to find a place to tie us down.” Grif turned to make his way towards the bridge.
“Sorry about that. The fortress was built before the Gantrithor. But I’m sure you’ll find a place….” Pensword trailed off as he looked upon the scene. “Grif, look over there,” he called. “I think they’re building a dock for your ship.”
Grif turned to observe the the metallic skeleton of the thick metal girders rising from the ground below. “Yes, but at the moment, it’s not big enough to hold us,” he noted clinically.
“At least she’s planning on you visiting enough times to need it,” Pensword said.
“Yes, or she’ll need a dock large enough to hold many airships,” Grif countered.
Pensword sighed. “You go ahead and find a place to dock the ship. I’ll get my family ready to disembark. I think I see my ride to Mountainside Falls coming.”
“We’ll disembark within the next half hour,” Grif promised, and then he was gone.
Pensword blinked in surprise. “And here I thought I was used to that,” he muttered, before turning to approach the bow of the ship once again, enjoying the feeling of the sun on his fur and the wind teasing welcomingly through his feathers and ear tips. He couldn’t wait to see what the tribes had been up to in his absence.
Extended Holiday Ch 130: Old Wounds, New Stitches Act 20
“To this day, it amazes me how many hidden passages and chambers there are here,” Hammer Strike commented as both he and Silent Collector wandered through their newest discovery. A distinct lack of torches and mounts left Silent to use his horn and Hammer Strike to ignite his hooves to light their way.
“My curiosity of my surroundings led me to explore these underground chambers,” Silent Collector started explaining. “After wandering around, I just … stumbled across it.”
“Stumbled across a blocked passageway that blended in with the other walls?” Hammer Strike questioned with a raised brow.
“You’d be surprised how many times I’ve done that.”
Hammer Strike rolled his eyes at the comment, before focusing on their progression through the tunnel. A faint light was visible nearby, signifying something at the end. When they reached that portion, the walls opened up into a large circular chamber. The stone brick was whole and undamaged, with segments pulling off the wall to form pillars that led up a curve towards the ceiling. In the center of the ceiling was a large crystal that refracted every piece of light the two were giving off, lighting the entirety of the room.
The center of the room was elevated with steps leading to the center, where a pedestal was kept. There, embedded into the pedestal, was what appeared to be the hilt of a sword. Based off the scale of the crossguard, Hammer Strike figured it was a decent size. Yet try though he might, Hammer Strike was unable to determine the material, even when viewing it thaumically. The aspect was completely unfamiliar. Looking up, the darkness of the wrap greeted him. Hints of color and brightness broke through the night in small, intricate patterns he could barely recognize.
He frowned to himself as he moved towards the hilt, and brushed the dust off, revealing a deeper darkness. Still more visible were the spots of light and color across the material, resembling the night sky. Near the end of the hilt, the material continued on, leaving two ribbons off the hilt hanging free to the outside. The pommel of the weapon was made of the same material as the crossguard, and resembled a bear's head. Its mouth stood open in a teritorial snarl.
“What’s a weapon like this doing down here?” Silent Collector muttered, before shifting his attention around the room, scanning it further.
“I don’t know, and I want to know more,” Hammer Strike said as he looked closer at the weapon. “I’ve never seen any metal like this before. While it closely resembles that ebony, it’s different somehow, and I lack the words to describe it.”
“It could be a metal that was lost to time,” Collector offered.
“Unlikely, but not impossible. I’ll have to bring this out to examine it properly.” Hammer Strike sighed as he grabbed the hilt of the sword, and pulled, only to meet resistance, an immense resistance. “What?” Hammer Strike frowned, pulling at the blade harder. After some more effort, he stood on his hind legs, and grabbed the blade with two hooves, pulling with more might than he ever thought would be needed.
After several minutes of applying more and more strength, he exhaled heavily, and dropped to his normal stance. “What the heck is this thing? I can’t even move it.”
Silent Collector moved around the hilt, looking it up and down. His horn glowed for a moment, only for him to shake his head. “I can’t read any enchantments, but there is something about it....”
Hammer Strike grunted as he looked to the weapon. “I’ll figure something out. Come on. I’d like to keep this place between just the two of us for the time being.”
Silent Collector nodded. “Understood.”
The throne room of Ys, much like the fortress itself, had gone through a major renovation. The whole room had been painted in a darker shade of blue. The molding had been overlaid with silver or silverite where possible. Banners declaring each of the Thestral tribes lined the sides of the room. Luna’s own banner hung on the right of the front of the room behind her throne. A smaller banner in token of Celestia hung on the left with a large blue-and-gold banner hanging directly behind her throne. The familiar mark of Hammer Strike, the sword on top of a pair of wings, spread wide inside of a circle. A long deep purple carpet filled the center of the floor, and traced with silver tassels on either end. Thestrals stood at attention every few feet in Hammer Strike’s Thestral armor. Grif held Athena and Gentle Wing on his back as they walked down the aisle with Shrial at his right and Avalon on her right. Gilda stood on Grif’s left side. Tazeer slept peacefully in a carrier on Avalon’s back.
When they approached the raised platform that held Luna’s throne, Grif proceeded to kneel before her, followed by each Gryphoness in turn. “It pleases me to see you so well, Your Highness.”
“‘Tis well to see thee, my monster hunter,” Luna replied with a kind smile. Her full armor shone in the torch light, while her helmet sat on a table by her throne. “I see thy pride has grown once again, both through offspring and wives.”
“Actually, that's why we wanted an audience with you, Princess. I need to call in a boon,” Grif noted.
“Oh? And what is it that you would ask?” Luna raised a curious brow as her muzzle pulled up into a playful smirk.
“Could I first ask that we be alone? I’d hope that I’ve proven myself trustworthy enough not to merit guards.”
Luna laughed as the guards slowly filed out. “They’re merely for show, something to unnerve any Solar nobles brave enough to enter my throne room. They guard me for their pleasure, not because I need them.”
“I know, Luna. As one who has fought beside you, I know only too well.” He chuckled ruefully. “The truth is, I need you to perform…” He looked to Gilda, and signaled her forward. “... a private marriage ceremony.”
Luna’s smirk widened into a grin. “After handling Pensword’s, yours will be a piece of cake. When do you need it done, and how do you wish to be wed? Would you prefer to be skyclad?”
“Whatever can be swift, and without too many knowing. It’s … not a request I’m proud of,” he said, hoping she would understand.
Luna eyed the pair carefully, then nodded. “I see. I had wondered why your mind felt so troubled these last few nights. We can perform it right here and now, if you’re ready.”
“Gilda?” Grif looked to the young Gryphoness. Her wedding garb turned out to be an odd mixture. Avalon wasn’t a warrior, and thus had dressed Gilda for beauty. Shrial, however, being a warrior trained by Grif himself, had dressed Gilda according to warrior tradition. The result had turned into an oddly fetching combination. Gilda stood there nervously in a deep blue gown, over which she wore a finely polished breastplate and pauldrons. Her crest had been combed down, and a silver chain hung beneath it. A small ruby had been fastened to the end in a rounded setting that hung just above her beak where it met her forehead. A new pair of axes hung holstered at her hips, giving her a beautiful, yet fearsome appearance that Grif realized he was getting to see for the first time.
“I ... I’m ready,” Gilda said with a gulp.
Luna smiled kindly. “Very well.” Then she spread her wings, and cleared her throat. “Let it be known in the ‘official’ records that I shall bind thee together for your elopement. Your wives will act as the witnesses.” She looked between the two. “Now, I must counsel you to have your blood ceremony performed at your compound. We have neither the artifacts nor the authority to perform that portion of your ceremony here, and to do so would be an affront to your gods, as well as the empire. It is an affront we would rather avoid, if possible. We can at least bind you under Equestrian Law, however.”
Grif and Gilda both nodded mutely.
“Good. Now that that’s settled, I will give you the short, short version. Do you two promise to love each other, care for one another, and defend one another, should the worst come to pass?”
“I would rip out my own heart, if it would save her life,” Grif said resolutely as he turned to Gilda. “And I will try to make your days happy to the best of my ability,” he promised.
Gilda looked to Grif, and then to Luna. “I would pluck my own feathers, and walk into the barren north, if it meant saving Grif. And I’ll do my best to make him smile.”
Luna looked between the two, and nodded. “Then by the power of the moon, and by my authority as a crown princess of Equestria, I proclaim thee mates. You may kiss the bride.”
Grif swept Gilda up into his arms, and kissed her, receiving a few surprised squawks from the twins at the sudden movement, but Grif didn’t notice as he sustained the kiss with every piece of passion he had for Avalon or Shrial. He smiled as he felt the same fire raging in his heart as had the days he’d wed his other wives. It would seem the beast wasn’t the only part attracted to her, after all.
“And now we get to enjoy having a new babysitter,” Avalon said with a mischievous wink.
“It’ll be nice to have someone else share the burden of feeding these little rascals, that’s for sure,” Shrial agreed, even as she smiled contentedly. “Just so long as she’s gotten better control of her instincts now. I think we’d all prefer to keep that in the combat arena. Speaking of which, once you’re off probation, guess who’s giving your battle examination, Gilda.” Her smile widened into a grin.
Gilda shuddered. “I don’t know how to feel about that, but I’ll do my best not to shame you.”
“You’ll be fine,” Grif reassured her, before looking to Luna, and fixing her with a relieved smile. “Thank you, Princess.”
“You are most welcome, my hunter. May you be successful in your attempt to bring back the lost arts. You have my blessing, for what little it’s worth.”
“And may your rule never be eclipsed. We will take our leave now, to see to restocking our ship with what we may need, and to allow you and Pensword privacy.”
“I am happy to hear it. I’ll make sure to note what you stock your ship with to repay my Thestral merchants out of my own personal funds. Consider it a wedding gift,” Luna said as she winked at the pair. “But I expect you all to stay the night. I rarely get the chance to visit these days, and while I may not be related to your children by blood, I still wish to spoil them all the same.” She chuckled. “I also wish to give you records from my own hunting career. Considering all your ordeals, I think you are prepared to read them now. After all the time that has passed, it may well be one of the most authoritative scripts on the art left, and you will need them in the days ahead, I think.”
“Very well, Your Highness. We will see you tonight.” Grif nodded respectfully, before he turned to leave with his family.
“Go with the Winds, Raven of the Night,” Luna called out as they left.
Pensword slowly stepped into a room he had never set hoof in when he took the fortress a thousand years ago. It was massive. Solid stone towered above him on either side, before breaking off into painstakingly crafted stained glass windows. Either side of the chamber had been lined by a series of pews. A plush deep blue carpet carpet had been tacked to the stone floor down the aisle. Its borders had been done up in red, while white images of each of the animals for the many Thestral clans ran around in a chain, separated by stars and phases of the moon.
The most prominent stained glass window showed Luna as a caring mother with wings outstretched as she protected her Thestrals from arrows and stones at its base. The middle part showed Luna chained and crying, while the Nightmare wore Luna’s face as a mask. Finally, the top appeared to portray the promise of Luna’s eventual return. Phases of the moon, constellations, and bats circled around the edges of the piece.
Luna stood in front of the glass, decked in her full armor, complete with helmet as she looked down upon the chiefs and chieftesses of the Thestral tribes. Pensword found it strange that Luna asked that he and Lunar Fang wear their armor and ursa minor robes, but it appeared to be the dress code, judging by the armor the other leaders wore.
“Commander Pensword,” Luna’s voice boomed, “step forward. There will be time enough to admire the chapel after tonight's ceremony. Come to the front.” As Pensword picked up the pace of his approach, Luna’s voice continued to echo over the room and its guests. “It is a long held belief that an Alicorn such as myself has the power and authority to wed Ponies together with ties that will last into the glade, just as the high priests of Faust. However, most mortal Ponies do not have this same authority. Thestral tribes here can only marry till death takes one or the other, or, if fate is kind, both at the same time. This is something I cannot stand. As your High Chieftess, and as an Alicorn, I will bestow that same authority which I hold upon each of you, so that the tribes may marry properly, and that this joy may spread to all tribe members.” She looked to each Thestral, and then to Pensword as he stepped up beside the Bear Tribe leader.
“Commander, please come before thy High Chieftess, for I wish to bestow a gift upon thee,” Luna said. “Faust has her chief priests among the Ponies of the day, but we Thestrals do not worship Faust in such a manner. It is time for the Thestrals to also have their binding, their ceremony, their unity beyond death. Let it be known that you, Commander, he who sees past mortal eyes, and who has taken the path given by thy High Chieftess, shall be the first to receive this new gift, this authority. Such shall be the reward for your diligence and sacrifice.”
Pensword knelt before the princess. She moved a wing, and dipped it into a silver basin. When she pulled it out, what could only be described as magically refined liquid moonlight dropped from her feather, glowing gently in the evening air. She brushed the wing tip over Pensword’s forehead and eyes to create a glowing crescent.
“May the moon mark thee as it has marked me. May this show thou art able to wield the power and authority that I wield here this night. May you tie souls together, so all clans may be one in the great glade.”
Pensword shivered as Luna pulled her wing back to her side. “Lunar Fang,” she said, “please step forward. While I have studied Earth’s cultures from the Humans’ time visiting, I feel that for one to be a spiritual leader as a Thestral, one should be married. So, too, must husband and wife share the burden.” At those words, the mates of the tribal leaders stepped into view to join their spouses.
“Commander, come. Dip your wing into the basin, and repeat after me, so that you may pass this authority to your wife, and thus share in the responsibility inherent with this gift.”
Pensword bowed his head respectfully. “Of course, High Chieftess.” He would never be able to describe what he felt as his wings made contact with the substance. All he knew was he felt power, peace, strength. This … whatever it was, was holy, pure, blessed. As his eyes wandered over the space, they fell on a beautiful glass case lined with gold on each of its corners. A large shimmering stone glowed white within the confines as the moon shone through the skylight above to bathe the artifact. Pensword recognized it instantly, and his eyes widened in surprise. “Is that…?”
“Yes, Pensword. A moonstone taken from the first cave. This is meant to be a sacred place. This stone will add weight to that sentiment. Now, proceed.”
Pensword nodded, then turned to face Lunar Fang as he slowly did the same to her as had been done to him by Luna. This process repeated itself for each of the tribal leaders, until all had been ordained.
When the Ceremony was complete, Luna conveyed new titles to each of the leaders and their mates. The Wolf Tribe leaders would be known as the Pack Papa and Pack Mama. The Fox would be Trickster Vixen and Cunning Fox. The Dragon Tribe received the titles of Clutch Mother and Cave Guardian. The Lion Tribe leaders became the Pride Father and Hunt Mother. The Vipers were called Hidden Mother and Father Hiss. For the Bear tribe, the titles Mama Bear and Father Claw were born. Lastly, the Manticores gained the titles of Mother Protector and Papa Stinger.
Luna turned towards Pensword and Lunar Fang. “As clan leaders, your responsibility is different from the others. You need not spread your authority to others within your clan, for it is only just beginning to grow again. As such, it is my will that you shall only ordain another to this power, if that individual is to become our nation’s next military advisor to me, for thou art the Moon’s sword and shield.”
Pensword bowed. “I am honored, my Chieftess.”
Princess Luna smiled as she sat in the nursery she and the Thestrals had built together. Images of stars and nebulae swirled around in a constant dance, following the order of the very skies they replicated. A series of cribs, beds, and toys lay scattered about the room, including a mountain of plushies, some of which had been torn. “I hope this room will suffice for your children. If things are happening the way the rumors tell, I know I need to learn about young Gryphons. It will make it easier to adapt for when the time comes to work with your grandchildren. Seeing as the Hippogryph kingdom has long since disappeared, the only way to learn how to help these future foals is to gain an understanding of your progeny, as well as that of my children of the night.”
Grif chuckled as he took a large portion of what appeared to be fresh venison. “Just be careful, Luna. Their talons are just starting to really come in, and they don’t know how sharp they are.”
Luna laughed. “Try raising an ursa minor as a pet.”
Grif raised a curious brow. “And how is your pet doing?”
“She does well. The cub is a feisty one. She’s growing at a steady rate, and has begun to grow her claws. We’ll have to see about providing some proper stones to help her sharpen them soon.”
“So she’s adjusted well, after whats happened?”
“We believe so. She sees me as a surrogate mother, or at least something to be protected. It has worked out better than I could have hoped, given the circumstances.”
“That should be useful, if you ever need to go to war.” Grif chuckled. “Knowing you, you probably already have designs drawn up for battle armor for it.”
“And half of it is already forged,” Luna said with a smirk. “By my own horn and hoof.”
“Don’t you need it to be full sized first?”
“I didn’t expect her to grow, hence the armor being half made. I’ll wait for her to finish growing, though I might finish this project just for the sake of having something in the case of an emergency.”
“Well, I hope that works for you,” Grif chuckled. “I understand you intend to see Pensword to Mountainside Falls?”
“That is correct. It is Thestral territory, after all, and I haven’t visited there yet, truth be told. It didn’t feel right without Pensword there first. It was his home, after all. Besides, this will give us time to talk about certain pressing needs Pensword has to address.” Luna smiled as she looked down to see an eager Gentle Wing climbing up her left forehoof.
“Well, I hope your trip is fruitful. We’ll be heading for the Empire, and then directly for the evoker fortress, so we probably will be heading straight to Unity afterwards.”
“Excellent. Pensword asked me to let you know that he has the Santa Maria patrolling over the Everfree Forest to help your scouts.” She smiled. “That makes five storm cores under his authority now, doesn’t it?” She giggled at the change in Grif’s expression. “Let’s just say that Matthew was rather talkative last night.”
“And you’re not to touch any of them.” Grif shot her a deadpanned look. “And don’t play innocent. We both know you're curious.”
“Of course I am. I just find it humorous that the dread Demon, a Pegasus Thestral, one who has sundered many of your people’s icons from the very fortress we reside in, now owns not one, not two, but five of the very cores your race had sworn never to let any other than a fellow Gryphon see, let alone handle. I know Pensword’s honor would have him scuttle his own ships, before letting anyone outside of him or Moon River see a Core, and I say Moon River, because locked doors don’t seem to be an obstacle to her when she wants something.” She stretched a wing out to give Gentle Wing more climbing room to reach her back.
“Yes. I’ve been wondering if you could explain where she learned to pick locks, Princess.” Grif slid a few thin steel implements across the table. “She didn’t get these from me.”
Luna frowned. “Nor from me. I would never go around Pensword’s back like that. I thought she was merely channeling Thestral magic to accomplish her goals. After all, how else do you explain her ability to appear and disappear with nary a sound? Only Hammer Strike can do anything even remotely close, and his abilities are far more advanced than hers.”
“Yeah, well I can only imagine what she’s going to be like when she gets older.” Grif chuckled as he watched Gentle Wing start batting at Luna’s mane with her paw. Rather than cause it to change directions, the paw seemed to pass right through it. Gentle Wing grinned, and started passing her taloned hands through it as rapidly as she could, enjoying the sparkles she managed to separate from the main host of the ethereal projection. “A Lot of trouble, if I have anything to say about it.”
Luna smirked. “Only if you let me help.”
“Speaking of helping,” Avalon said with a smile as she cradled the sleeping Tazeer in her arms, “would one of you mind helping young Athena here join her sister? I think she’s had more than enough of her fill for the evening.”
Shrial sighed as she reached down, and flicked the young Gryphoness on the beak. “That’s enough, Athena. We don’t want to spoil your appetite. Go play with your sister. Maybe you’ll be able to figure out how to handle all that star stuff, hmm?”
Athena frowned as she disengaged from the teat, but she knew better than to argue with her mother at this stage. Her frustrations were soon forgotten, however, when she watched her sister pulling at the air with sparkles dancing through her fur. The cub was gone in an instant.
“Careful, Athena. We don’t want you to get sick. Take your time,” Shrial warned, then sighed. “Cubs.”
“Lets just hope they’re not as attached to Luna’s mane as Moon River is to Bellacosa,” Grif added.
“Winds help us, if they are,” Gilda said, then laughed.
“I can create an illusion on a pillow to simulate my mane, if that’s the case,” Luna added.
The two cubs grinned, then cooed in delight as they grabbed Luna’s neck, and proceeded to hang on either side as they embraced her.
Grif yawned as he flicked the switches on the Gantrithor’s controls. Ys was already shrinking quickly in the distance, and Grif, for his part, sighed with relief at the fact. It wasn’t that he disliked the time spent with Luna, but he’d planned this trip without the delay of staying the night. They would have docked at the Crystal Empire by midnight, and thus been able to leave first thing the next morning. Now he found himself working to make up for lost time. While the ship was completely capable of making it to the empire in an hour, the strain would be bad for the engines. After a few test flights, Grif and Hammer Strike agreed the higher speeds were best saved for emergencies. So it was that he found himself doing his best to plan around airflows and find favorable currents as the ship moved farther north. He could already feel the ship beginning to create the internal shielding that would allow it to ignore the sudden cold.
“You do realize staying with her was unavoidable, don’t you?” Shrial pointed out as she strode up behind her husband.
“And the others can handle it. Hammer Strike is there, after all,” she pointed out.
“Maybe, but it’s home, and the family’s there. If I don’t worry about them, am I any better than the clan lords back in the Empire?”
“Point. But you trust them, too, don’t you?” she asked as she preened his feathers.
“Yes, they’re good fighters, and they made me proud during the last attack.”
“So how long till we reach the Crystal Palace?”
“Noon, if the winds stay favorable. We won’t be staying long.”
“Just to drop off?”
“Yes. We have a bit of a trip to the fortress, and the Empire is surrounded by mountains. The sooner we get in and out, the better. I don’t want to get stuck in any freak storms.”
“They do seem a bit more violent up here, don’t they?”
“And how are you doing? I’ve noticed you’ve given feedings over to Avalon. I take it you’ll be training at full speed again soon?”
“Probably. Somebody has to smack that head of yours when it gets too big,” she joked.
“That's a vicious cycle. I have you, which is something I’m quite proud of. You smack me down for being prideful, and thus remind me you're here, and thus make me proud again,” Grif said in mock horror.
“So how do we resolve this paradox of yours?” she asked as she kissed his cheek.
“You could just kiss me every time you would hit me?” he offered.
“How about we just go as I see fit? Sometimes I’ll kiss you–.” Her wing smacked him on the back of the head. “And sometimes, I’ll hit you.” Then she kissed him once more. “But I’ll always love you.”
“I can live with that.” He winked at her. “I know I’m not looking forward to this, but what about you? What happened last time we were at that fortress? You saw a piece of me no one should have seen.”
“And you learned to control it, end of story. Don’t make me have to add whacking you for self-pity.”
“As long as you're okay,” Grif said. Then he shifted topics. “So, our little nest is growing pretty quickly. You ever think you’ll have another?”
“Grif, you’re on my good side right now. Let’s not ruin the moment.”
“I feel it’s a reasonable question.” Grif shrugged. “And I’ll understand, no matter how you answer. It’s quite clear Avalon has plans for more, so it’s not like my bloodline’s in any danger.”
Shrial chuckled. “Let’s just say I don’t plan on having more any time in the near future. Talk to me after a few years.” Then she kissed him on the cheek. “Besides, four or more cubs will certainly be enough to have to handle on their own for now.”
“That, I’ll agree with,” Grif chuckled as he steered the ship into a jet stream to speed the journey.
Pensword stared blankly after the Gantrithor as it faded from sight. His mind felt troubled, but he couldn’t quite place the sensation. He started passing through Matthew’s memories, a task that seemed to be getting easier for him as time passed, and ultimately settled on the identification as a form of melancholy. They had felt it when they visited Arlington. They felt it every Memorial Day, and every Veteran’s Day. “The eleventh day, of the eleventh month, on the eleventh hour,” Pensword whispered.
“The guns fell silent,” Luna replied in Draconic as she alighted next to him. “I remember Matthew teaching me that,” she said as she switched back to Equish, “back when they were first settling. I asked him in his dreams when he felt inclined to let me visit.” Luna looked down on Pensword with a motherly smile. “I must say, when you took your form for the first time, I was shocked at how similar to my commander you appeared. And then came the Crystal Empire.”
“Why’d you let me get away with that, anyways?” Pensword interrupted. “I mean, I picked the name out of the blue. How was I to know I was impersonating an officer?”
“Remember, you warned me before you left to Baron’s mansion that a young Pony who did not yet grow into his horse shoes would use your name, and to go easy on him.” She chuckled. “I see you’re using Matthew’s old debating privileges.”
Pensword shook his head in disbelief. “I told you that?”
“I don’t blame you for forgetting. You had thoughts of home weighing on your heart. Those words confused me for quite some time, until a scant three months later, I got message from a Pony that looked like you would have, if only your Pegasus blood had been more prominent. I was tempted to strike you down there and then, despite the role you played in saving Alto and Bellacosa, but your words stayed my judgement.”
“Luna, thou dost not need to practice the modern speech with me. It feels good hearing the old speech at times.”
“That may be so, my Commander, but we must change and adapt to the ways of the present. We must not be like we were during the Second Gryphon War, where our mighty flyers were wiped out in minutes. Were it not for the Earth Movers, that battle would have been lost. That goes for you, too, Commander.” She smiled warmly. “However, occasionally, it’s good for us to speak in the old tongue with a friend.” She winked. “We may slip from time to time, but that doesn’t change the fact that we need to adapt. Let us save the old speech for our more … personal moments.”
“I shall endeavor to do my best, My High Chieftess.”
“That is all I can ask of thee, or rather, of you.”
Pensword’s face pulled up in a smile as he turned to look back on the horizon. “We leave tonight, so we may arrive by dawn tomorrow. An all night flight on the Moon’s Throne.” He paused, and furrowed his brow. “Though I have been curious. What does the MV stand for?”
Luna giggled. “Moon Vessel. And you are correct. Arrangements have already been made. You’re all packed, I hope.”
Pensword chuckled. “You already know the answer to that.”
“I live out of my pack,” both said in unison, then burst into a fit of laughter.
As the pair finally got their breathing under control again, Pensword sighed in relief. “Thank you, Luna.”
“For what?”
“For making me feel better.”
“You’re most welcome, my Commander. Come, let us retire. I would love to hear how you plan to take care of those cores of yours.”
“Oh, my Gryphon children will be taught how to maintain them by the ship crews, so the secrets can remain among Gryphonkind. Then they will teach the cubs they choose from the next generation, and so on. Once I pass, each of them will get their choice of one of my airships as an inheritance.”
Luna grinned. “And no provisions for me or any of the other rulers in Equestria. I approve. Those cores are yours either by conquest or gift, and they should remain yours alone. You have a high honor, being the first Pony to wield such power. Then again, that’s only one of many firsts you have achieved.” She chuckled. “Perhaps the Demon Slayers should add the number one to their colors. It certainly seems to fit.”
Pensword’s eyes widened. “First to win a battle against the Gryphons in the Third Conflict, first to take land from Gryphons, first to capture colors, first to take a fort.”
Luna picked up as Pensword took a breath. “First Pony to live, after seeing inside Fort Triumph; first unit to take the fortress; first Pony to see the evoker tower; first pony to be in the first Avatar’s tomb.”
“And First Pony to have Gryphons call him Father, not to mention first Pony Father-in-Law to the Emperor.”
“We might not add that part to the list, but based on these statistics alone, not to mention the more recent … dubious performance of my sister’s guard, your unit is first among all.”
“Well then, I suppose I should await that new patch at the start of the bill.” Pensword chuckled as he winked at her.
“You’ll have a revised copy to read on your way home. And I shall be accompanying you to New Unity. I think a surprise visit to our foster father would be good for me.”
“I am looking forward to it already. I’ll even avoid telling Hammer Strike, so you can surprise him.” He smirked. “This reminds me of the time I conspired and succeeded in plotting a surprise visit for my brother and his family back home. It shocked my mom half to death, when she turned around the kitchen, and there he was.”
Luna smiled. “Then I will trust in your confidentiality.”
“Triple maximize magic: Greater Magic Wall!” Clover’s words echoed as her focus glowed brightly. The refortification to New Unity since the last attack had been slowed, due to the winter weather. As such, only small brick outposts and incomplete wall systems were currently in place to repel anything that might come. As a way to circumvent this, Clover the Clever had taken the time to teach her class about the power of preparation through proper enchantments and pre-planned spell traps. The incomplete wall in front of her glowed a brilliant sapphire as a magic circle appeared at its center, spinning in place as more blue energy covered the area around the wall, forming a massive standing construct of energy, which then faded from view.
“By using this technique, we make sure these walls would provide more during an attack than simply serving to trip our enemies up. By casting through magister Ooal Gown’s casting method, the spell will only activate when a threat becomes valid, thus keeping the energy for when it is needed. I doubt most of you could cast the triple maximized version, but it is still a good place to practice,” Clover noted, before turning to the empty area between the wall and the trees. “Triple maximize magic: Exploding Mines!” A magical wave spilled over the ground, forming several large orange blobs, which proceeded to fade. “The exploding mine spell allows us to set a trap that will activate, should anyone enter this ground with an intent to harm us. Any questions so far?”
“Would that include friendlies who have a dispute they want to settle the old fashioned way, or is it fine tuned enough to sift that from a legitimate threat, like an invader?” Vital Spark asked.
“It’s based on whom the caster would consider a threat. There are some weaknesses, I’ll admit, but it’s still more selective than normal trap spells. Anything else?”
“Where did you get ahold of his works?” Twilight wondered. “I’ve never heard of this Ooal Gown before, and that’s saying something, since I’ve read through practically the entire Canterlot Archives.”
“Because, Miss Sparkle, Master Ooal Gown was a genius in the magical arts around the same time as Star Swirl, but the two had differing theories on magic and its expression in this world. It’s likely when he reclaimed his title as court wizard under the princesses, that Star Swirl had Ooal Gown’s books removed, as he did many great mages’ works at one point or another,” Clover said bitterly.
“What, were they dangerous or something?” Vital asked.
“Do you remember, Mister Spark, how I mentioned necromancy could be used for benevolent acts, such as healing? That was a work Ooal Gown discovered. That, and many other applications for what are considered the darker arts. Ooal Gown believed, quite simply, that darkness wasn’t, by its nature, evil,” Clover explained.
“So he used the power to help others without actually allowing his morals to be corrupted by the access he had to said power?”
“Ooal Gown served a very powerful king, a being whose strength surpassed his own. He believed if that king could wield such power and not be corrupted, then the strength to resist must be inside every one of us. We simply need to find the kernel of goodness in our souls, and build our resistance from it.”
“Is it a separate system of magic from the standard Equestrian, then?”
“Not entirely. The casting is similar, but this system goes with the idea of constructing the entire spell mentally before you cast it, rather than constructing it as you cast.”
“So, rather than letting your will shape the spell, you have to essentially memorize it, and then have it firmly set in your mind, sort of like a … a spell slot.”
“Prepared magic isn’t until next week. For now, we’re working on simple preparation enchantments, so this will mostly be open book.” She gestured to a pile of spellbooks.
“Can we work in pairs?” Vital asked, even as his eyes wandered towards a certain blue Unicorn.
Clover sighed, and rolled her eyes. “Very well. Make sure everyone comes forward, though, to receive a section of the grounds to do,” she insisted as she levitated a pile of maps, each with sectioned off portions.
Vital smiled as he trotted over to Trixie, and levitated one of the books without looking. “And would the beautiful mare be gracious enough to let this poor apprentice be her partner today?”
“Trixie supposes she can allow the apprentice to benefit from her wisdom,” Trixie giggled.
“Well then, shall we, oh great and powerful?”
“We shall.” Trixie nodded as they took a map, and headed off.
Pensword stood upon the bridge of the Moon’s Throne as the ship pulled silently out from its air dock, and began its exodus to Mountainside Falls. The commander watched as the land slipped by, eventually becoming more mountainous. Snow covered the peaks, and evergreen trees dotted the earth, their snow-covered boughs sparkling in the moonlight.
The crew manned the ship’s controls silently, while Luna, Pensword, Lunar Fang, and Fox Feather stared out the front windows. Pensword’s left ear twitched for a time, and he took a deep breath as he finally allowed himself to give voice to the emotions that had been stirring within him for so long. He began to sing a song that had only just been composed when he was a foal, and now was a time-honored classic around Equestria. “When family cannot be here, having journeyed far and wide, we sing a song to honor them, to remember days gone by.”
Lunar Fang and Fox Feather joined in next, “So take your cup, and raise it high, just as surely I’ll do mine. And laugh we will at stories told as we smile at days gone by. As we smile at days gone by.”
Luna smiled, joining in on the impromptu quartet with her soldiers standing stoutly behind her. “For family not here, my dears, having journeyed far and wide. For loyalty and kindness both, we smile at days gone by.”
The magic of the heartsong took hold as the bridge crew oohed and ahhed in accompaniment.
Pensword took up the next part as the mares watched him sing in a rich tenor. His voice carried strong and pure as, for this one moment, the pasts of two separate lives merged in glorious harmony. “Our paths will cross again one day, in time to reunite, for family is always near, even when the seas are wide.”
Lunar Fang and Fox Feather joined once more. “So take your cup, and raise it high, just as surely I’ll do mine, and make a toast for family, and the tales of days gone by.”
The entire bridge broke into song at this point. “For family not here, my dears, having journeyed far and wide. For loyalty and kindness both, take joy at days gone by. For loyalty and kindness both, we smile at days gone by.”
The crew was silent as Pensword bowed his head, and tears fell silently to the floor. After a good ten minutes of silence, the captain coughed softly. “Coming up to Dream City.”
“Dream City?” Pensword’s face began to pale as his body trembled, until he felt a reassuring wing brush his back.
“Don’t worry, Pensword. Dream City is no monument to the dead. It is a place where the living dwell. Mountainside Falls is still maintained. Nopony has dared step hoof there, save to take care of the land in your absence. They’ve been waiting a very long time.”
Pensword relaxed as he felt the reassuring nuzzles of his two wives, and watched as houses began to appear in the darkness below. It looked almost like another Ponyville from their vantage point. A freshly constructed airdock came up in their view, where another airship had already been docked. The ship was clearly not designed for combat. It was completely unarmored, and the fabric was a patchwork of black and white. The ship underneath it reminded Pensword of pictures Matthew had taken with him portraying cargo ships on the Great Lakes, only this one was on a smaller scale.
Busy figures worked tirelessly below, unloading crates from the ship’s holds. The line stopped, however, as the shadow from Luna’s flagship fell over them. Crates were dropped, and cargo forgotten as the docks flurried with activity. The second berth was ready to land on in a matter of minutes.
Pensword watched all of this in silence. He paused as he recognized something in the middle of the village. It was the main dormitory that he had lived in, where he first learned how to be a military officer. Next he noticed a ribbon of steel heading out from the town. They’d built a train out to Mountainside Falls. He was shocked at the idea. He saw now that he had been so lost in his thoughts that this was, in fact, where he had ordered–. He shook his head. No, they were still days away. The mountains weren’t right. That meant they had deconstructed and moved the entire base, or rather the core buildings, to create the center of this new town.
He maintained his resolute silence as they docked, following Luna toward the doors. However, here, Luna stopped, and stepped to the side. “It would only be fitting for the one who left home, the sole survivor of his town, to be the first to exit, and step foot upon the lands he fought to avenge.”
Pensword froze both mentally and physically for a few moments, then bowed his head towards his princess. He felt strange as he realized both Pensword and Matthew had performed the action together. He turned his head, then, and looked out over the docks. All the Thestrals stared at the door, unable to see inside, due to the sun casting such thick shadows over the doorway.
He took a steady breath, and stepped out onto the gangway. He held his head high, doing his best to keep his composure. He could still feel the wet fur cling to his checks as he continued down the ramp. He was startled momentarily as the sound of stomping hooves tumbled into a cacophony of applause. But as he twitched his left ear, he realized that the princess, nor anypony else had stepped hoof upon the gangway. The gathering below was just as silent. The only logical explanation left was the spirits of the past. He looked beyond the crowd, and felt the tears sting anew as he eyed the ghosts in the distance. It felt like how he had imagined returning home after his tour as a guardspony would have been. There was sorrow, but over that, he felt an abiding sense of love and respect, of welcome, of peace. Something shifted inside. He didn’t understand exactly what, but the best way he could think to describe it was a small part of himself, lost and torn out by the Gryphons, had been tenderly placed back where it belonged. The scars would still remain, but he was whole again.
Pensword stepped fully upon the ground, and the moment was broken as he was set upon by a swarm of foals and residents giving an enthusiastic greeting. Hugs were given, salutes exchanged, shouts of welcome offered. He saw a shadow pass over them, and looked up to see the familiar golden form of Haymin flying overhead. He smiled when he noticed the Thestrals didn’t even flinch.
The cheering rose in a mighty crescendo as Princess Luna appeared wearing her Ursa armor, and carrying Meteor Impact. Pensword couldn’t help but smile at the sight. It seemed the princess wished to surprise him. He couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight. It felt right as he joined his hooves with the others to stomp the ground and cheering for their high chieftess and her first visit to Dream City. Then he chuckled again, and shook his head. “Well, what do you know? Another first.”
“So, have you ever hunted a shade before?” Grif asked across the table. They were in the Crystal Empire at the moment. Bellacosa’s goods were being unloaded from the ship’s cargo hold, a task that was certainly taking it’s time. Shrial had escorted the prince to his home with the intention of making peace with Cadence for what happened earlier. Avalon had gone to the library to scour it for as much as she could learn in the time they had, and Gilda had gone to observe the training of the Crystal Guard. With free time on his hands, Grif had slipped away to visit Jäger. The ancient hunter was the closest thing Equestria had to a true master at this point, and he could use any advice he could get. “I know Sombra’s returned, but I have no idea where to look for him. You’ve hunted for so long. Where would you look?”
“Shades are a tricky bunch.” Jäger hummed aloud. “I wouldn’t know for certain. I’m sorry.”
“He’d need a place to set up a power base, right? Or can shades create their own servants? What would he need?”
“He could have potentially taken over somepony to progress his plans. It would take as little as a fragment of him to manage. But from there, it becomes more obvious. Until he moves forward, and breaks free from his hole, he’ll be nearly impossible to track.”
“I suppose I’ll have to let him make his move first then,” Grif sighed. “How are you, anyway? I know we’ve never exactly been friends, but hunters should at least look out for each other. You kept this place safe long before I was born.”
“I’ve been learning about the world, since it passed all of us by for a thousand years.” Jäger gave a faint chuckle. “It’s strange, to say the least.”
“I know what it’s like to be a thousand years out of your time.” Grif nodded. “Though I suppose that's not a fair comparison. Old wolves get set in their ways, after all.”
“Some things never change, though.” Jäger’s eyes lit up. “Hunters are always needed to break down the beasts that prey on the weak.”
“Listen, Jäger. I’ve recently been given an apprentice by the ties of fate. I don’t suppose there’s some way I could persuade you to travel to Unity? We could both really use your wisdom.”
Jäger hummed softly as he looked beyond Grif. “I don’t know. While it would be interesting to see the world as it is now, I’m still worried for the Empire.”
“I understand. Just think about it. We need more than just more hunters, if we want to reduce the monster risk. We need knowledge and experience, too.” Grif sighed. “I worry I’m leading him towards his death.”
“I’ll think about it, Grif,” Jäger sighed. “You’re still in Unity, correct?”
Grif nodded. “If this goes well, and Hammer Strike is willing, I’m considering extending the offer to any who wish to learn, but I’m young yet, and as you know, the young can be rash, driven to act before we think. That’s why we need the older generation to show us the way.”
“A piece of advice, then, while I decide. Keep your group small to start. While the more hunters there are, the better, when it comes to training, you want to ensure that each of them don’t stumble and fall between the cracks.”
Grif nodded as he pulled Jäger’s blade off the table. He produced a whetstone. “Let me do this for you,” he offered as he began to sharpen the blade. “It’s the least I can do.”
The sun was hot over the desert near Equestria’s eastern coast. Hard caked earth lay as far as the eye could see, dotted with the occasional cactus. All manner of desert animals crawled, slithered or moved in various ways to get between shady spots, stopping only when sustenance was needed. The only thing breaking this landscape was the large stone fortress that stood proudly in the middle of nowhere. Magical spells and enchantments had been used to preserve the fortress over time, but even magic had its weaknesses, and a thousand years had left its mark on the structure. The stones were worn from years of weathering. The wood was beginning to rot in places, and more than a few of the roofs had developed wide holes. Yet despite all this, the large wooden gates remained as the day they had been sealed, strong and unyielding.
So it was over this large imposing landmark that the Gantrithor arrived with a boom as the air was pushed out of its way. The massive airship seemed menacing over the old fortress, its long shadow blanketing the area. Grif personally let out a shiver as he examined the building from above. “Okay, everybody, you can leave the cabin now. We’ve arrived,” he called into the intercom as he pulled the ship carefully along the eastern side of the fort, and let it drift there.
Avalon was the first to disembark. She circled gracefully around the tower four times, before coming to a halt at the tower’s base. Her medallion glinted in the afternoon sun, its scale shining in a rainbow of light. “Well, at least one of the Winds seems to approve,” she chuckled.
“Lets hope you treat what's inside better than the last owners.” Grif laughed as he caught up with her. “I’d say you're like a cub in a candy store, but frankly, that would be understating your excitement.”
“That much knowledge, all in one place, and I actually have the sanction of the Avatar of Winds to view it? Of course I’m going to be excited. On top of defying centuries of precedent, I get to be the first female evoker in recorded history. You have the key to the protection spell, right?”
Grif laughed as he pulled out a scroll, and showed it to her. “I can unlock the door, but don’t you think we should make sure we’re all ready first? Or is this just me and you going in?”
“Well, you are the technical owner, Grif. What do you think is best?” she countered.
“You go and check, and I’ll get ready at the east entrance, okay?”
“Because of this?” she asked curiously as she raised her focus.
“No, because the east side is shaded right now, and I’d rather not be stuck under the sun for too long. Not all of us are white,” Grif teased as he ruffled his feathers for emphasis.
“I suppose that works, too.” Avalon chuckled. “So, do we include Gilda, or is she still grounded?”
“Anyone who wants to come. If Shrial decides against it, don’t push it. Last time we were here wasn’t pretty.”
“I’ll be gentle,” Avalon promised. “So, just to clarify, do we want to have Gilda come if she wants to, then?”
“As long as she keeps Athena and Gentle Wing with her.” Grif nodded. “They might as well see some of their history, before we gut this place.”
“The better parts or all of it?”
“Back on earth, there was a people with a rich, vibrant history. They didn’t hide the one horrible thing they did, and neither will the Gryphons. We’ll show them everything.”
“Are you … ready to go back there?”
“I’ve been through worse,” Grif shrugged. “If we ever want Gryphons to cast spells again, we’ll need all the notes they had.”
“And the Dragon feller?”
“I’d rather not disturb the tomb, unless necessary.”
“Good. I’d rather not either.” She smiled, and kissed him gently. “If you need time, let us know. We can stop, and wait till you’ve got your second wind.”
“I know. Don’t worry. I can handle this.” He kissed her on the head. “The east entrance. Fifteen minutes.” With that, Grif launched himself into the air, angled to the side, and dove towards his target.
Fifteen minutes later, Avalon, Shrial, Gilda, and the cubs all stood outside the old structure. Caring Circlet had activated the ship’s defense measures as a safety precaution, leaving the family all the freedom they needed to have a proper exploration. Each had a bag Twilight had enchanted with a spatial distortion charm combined with a weight reduction spell to ensure they could carry all the records they could get their talons on.
“So … this is the place, huh?” Gilda asked as she looked up the wall to the tower’s heights.
“The place where one of the greatest and most terrible conflicts of the Third Gryphon War erupted, second only to the desolation Hammer Strike and Celestia left in their wakes respectively,” Shrial said. “It wasn’t a pleasant time, to say the least.”
“And it hasn’t been opened in over a thousand years. Let’s see if this technique Luna used works.” Grif unraveled the scroll, revealing a large key drawn in deep black ink. He sucked in the deepest breath he could manage, then blew on the scroll, the ink making the key instantly lift off the page. It blew across the space between Grif and the gate. The moment it made contact, the large wooden door was just … gone.
A deep sigh filled the air, as if the tower were releasing a breath long held, and Gentle Wing wove her tail with Athena’s for comfort, while Athena cocked her head curiously at the sight of the magic’s execution. Tazeer continued to sleep soundly in his basket on Gilda’s back, while Shrial laid a steadying hand on Grif’s shoulder.
“Are you ready?” Shrial asked.
“I’m fine,” Grif assured her. “Let’s see wha–” Grif trailed off as his eyes caught something inside the grounds of the courtyard. He moved in to take a closer look. “That's not right….”
“What is it, Grif?” Avalon’s feathers rose with her fur as she clasped at her focus.
Grif traced the ground. Small hoof-shaped indents could just be made out in the dirt. Just ahead of them, deep gouges that usually characterized Gryphon claw marks dug into the earth. “These tracks are fresh.”
“How is that possible? The spell is keyed to you, isn’t it?”
“Keyed is a tough term. When we vanished during the Third Gryphon War, Celestia and Luna weren’t sure if I’d be back with Hammer Strike. They keyed the wards to only open for us or a very close blood relative.”
“In other words, blood magic?” Gilda asked.
“Yes.” Grif nodded. “You girls head for the library. Keep together. Shrial, Gilda, you’re armed, right?”
“Always,” Shrial said.
Gilda nodded her agreement. “I can’t really fight with Tazeer on my back, though,” she said.
Grif nodded. “Keep together. Don’t let the twins out of your sight.” Then he looked to the tracks. “I’m going to follow these.”
“How long before we search for you?” Shrial asked.
“Don’t.” Grif shook his head. “If I’m not back in two hours, go back to the ship with everything you can carry.”
“You know at least one of us is going to disobey that order,” Avalon pointed out.
“I know. I just hope it doesn’t come to it.”
“Winds willing, it won’t. And if it does, we’re pulling your spirit back, if for nothing more than to smack you across the head for being an idiot.” Shrial pulled him into a rough embrace. “Don’t make us do that.” Then she pulled back, and looked expectantly at Gilda.
Gilda chuckled nervously as her tail kicked up some dust from the ground. “I’m, uh … not so good at this sort of thing, but … if there is trouble, kick its butt for us, okay?”
“Count on it.” Grif winked, then moved in, and kissed the three cubs, before turning to follow the tracks.
Grif followed the tracks through the grounds, until they came to the stone floor of the inner fortress. Naturally, with stone being harder than earth, there weren’t any real markings to track. He cursed his luck, until he spotted a book lying haphazardly on the ground out of the corner of his eye. It lay on its spine with the covered splayed open. As Grif moved towards it, he noticed a second book close by, then another, and another. He followed this new trail deeper into the holds, until he reached the stairs leading him deeper into the stronghold. Cold and damp clung at his wings and fur as he descended into the familiar setting of the structure’s dungeons. The books ended a ways in, but were replaced by firelight within one of the nearby cells. Grif moved silently toward the opened cell, and drew a knife. He readied his strike, but stopped quite suddenly as his eyes took in the figure within.
It appeared to be a massive Gryphon. From what Grif could make out of his body, he had to be a liger-albatross cross, but this was, by far, the biggest specimen of the mix he had ever encountered. The strange Gryphon’s fur and base feathers where tan with a sort of peach-colored blanket of feathers near his head. His crest was tipped with bright red.
From his vantage point at the door, Grif couldn’t see the Gryphon’s face or underside, but he could make out one massive foreleg topped with talons more savage looking than any Gryphon he had seen. He crept toward the beast on silent paws and talons, then braced himself when he was within striking distance.
“If you value your life, turn around slowly,” Grif growled. The knife was already prepared for a hamstring, if necessary.
The Gryphon tensed up, and after a moment, began to turn slowly. Slight tremors passed through his body every now and then, until he faced Grif. Blue eyes greeted Grif’s own, though only for a moment as they darted around fearfully.
“Who are you? And how did you enter this fortress?” Grif asked slowly, keeping the knife in plain sight.
“M-my name is G-Gilgamesh. T-the door was open. I walked in to escape the h-heat.”
“This fortress has been sealed by magic for over a thousand years,” Grif countered as his eyes narrowed suspiciously. “What clan or band are you from?”
“I … I don’t know. I just wokeup out there. I tried to escape the heat in here. I didn’t know I w-was trespassing, honest!”
“So, just to get your story straight here, you don’t know where you came from?” Grif said as he raised a skeptical eyebrow.
“I … kind of do?” he replied with uncertainty. “I-I know a mark, a name, a couple locations, but it’s all just a mess.” He placed a hand on his head, and shook it, as if to dispel dizziness. “I’m sorry. I’ll leave. I won’t bother you. I don’t have anything. I-I can just find somewhere else….”
“The next settlement is thirty miles away. Frankly, I’m surprised you made it here.” Grif stared into Gilgamesh’s eyes. Despite being nervous, the ferocity behind them felt eerily familiar. “Hand over all your weapons. You can stay here, and when this is over, we’ll drop you off somewhere. I may not know you, but I can’t have you dying of thirst out there.”
“I don’t have anything,” Gilgamesh replied as he looked around himself.
“How do I know you're not going to attack me or my family?” Grif challenged.
“What would I attack you with?” After a moment, he looked to his hands. “Oh, yeah. I mean, I guess these are kinda–.”
It was at that moment one of the books inside the room fell from its perch, crashing to the ground with a loud snap as it landed flat. This caused Gilgamesh to let out a yelp. At that moment, a flash of blue blinded Grif. Once he regained his sight, he was greeted with a dome of ice, and within, he could see Gilgamesh on the ground, covering his head with his hands.
Grif backed slowly towards the door to the cell. “You stay here. I need to get someone,” he ordered as he backed away from the room, before flying at top speed to the stairs, then banking down a hall towards the library. He needed Avalon.
A half an hour later, all the Gryphons had gathered in the library. Grif and Shrial were currently pouring through records of old clans. Gilgamesh had provided them with the symbol he remembered, a circle with a downward-facing sword wrapped in a pair of closed feathered wings. Avalon, meanwhile, was looking Gilgamesh over both physically and with her medallion to try and determine how he was using magic.
“Frankly, I still don’t understand how this is even possible,” she said as she peered through the eye of her focus. “The very idea that a Gryphon could be capable of utilizing magic without the aid of a focus is positively unheard of outside of the Avatar. If anything, I’d say your magic is closer to a Pony’s than a Gryphons, assuming these charts are correct. Are you sure you’re not a Hippogriff?” she asked again as she lifted the long silky furry protrusions over the Gryphon’s hind legs to reveal a pair of broad, sturdy hooves.
“He doesn’t have any of the other noted traits for Hippogriffs. He’s too bulky. His muscle mass is focused forward, rather than towards the back; and his talons are fully formed, rather than sprouting from a hoof-like limb,” Grif noted.
“C-can we please stop?” Gilgamesh asked as he began closing in on himself. “T-this is a b-bit uncomfortable.”
“There is no sign of a clan symbol like the one he described. Of course, these records are a thousand years old, but I’ve never seen one like it. Have you?” he asked Avalon.
“I can’t say that I have,” Avalon said as she shook her head.
“And has he lied about anything so far?” he pressed. They had managed to find a truth spell among the cluttered scrolls. It was beyond Grif’s ability, but Avalon had been able to cast it with help from her medallion.
“It’s essentially designed to block his airways, if he tries to tell a lie. He wouldn’t be able to breathe, so long as he tried to.” She winced as she looked back at Gilgamesh. “Sorry about that.”
“I-it’s fine. I mean, I think I can trust you all.” He scratched at his head. “I’m not sure. P-part of me feels fine around Grif, while the other part screams out that it isn’t right or safe to be here right now.”
“Listen, Gilgamesh. It’s a very dangerous world to be out alone in, made more so by the fact you remember nothing. I have friends back in New Unity who might be able to help you. I won’t force you to come with us, but I’ll offer you this. We’ll be leaving this castle in a couple of days, and you're welcome to join us on the trip back. If you decide to stay here or leave, no one will stop you. We’ll leave you what water and food we can spare.”
“If it will help. I mean, I-I wouldlike to go with you, if it’s all right, that is.”
“Very well, Gilgamesh.” Grif offered his talons. “I am Grif Grafson Bladefeather. Though our meeting wasn’t exactly on the best terms, I hope we can look past it, and get along.”
Gilgamesh stared at the hand for a moment, before lifting his own to meet Grif. “T-thank you.”
“No problem.” Grif turned to Avalon. “So how's the knowledge mining going? Find anything interesting? History? Magic? Blueprints? Recipes?”
“You really expect me to do the research here and now, when you want us to clear this whole place out in the next couple of days?” Avalon asked as she raised an eyebrow.
“All I asked is if you found anything interesting while you were peaking,” he said, giving her a knowing smile.
Avalon walked over, and tapped him teasingly on his beak. “That, dear husband, is for me to know, and you to find out later.”
“Well, we can be less rushed now, since we don’t have anymore unknown elements to deal with.”
“How less rushed are we talking?”
“Well, we don’t need to be out in a matter of hours now. We originally planned for two to three days. I figure that will be enough, unless you don’t think it’ll be enough to get what we need most?”
“That depends. Do you still have the organized layout from the accounting at the end of the war?”
Grif pulled out a scroll from his bag, set it on the table, and unrolled it.
Avalon grinned as she rubbed her talons together. “Excellent.”
“Never change.” Grif chuckled, and kissed her on the cheek. “I should go give Gilda the all clear.”
“W-what should I do?” Gilgamesh asked. “Or should I just s-sit in the back, and not bother you?”
“Would you mind helping with sorting some of this stuff?” Grif asked. “You were reading quite a bit, so you might understand what Avalon’s looking for more than the rest of us.”
“I … I can try.”
“And you’ll succeed, if I have anything to say about it,” Avalon said as she patted him on the back. “So why don’t we start off by you telling me what you found while you were here, hmm? Besides, a few basic memory exercises might help you sort out what’s real and what’s made up in there,” she said as she pointed to Gilgamesh’ head.
“Uhh,” Gilgamesh looked away from the group. “W-well, besides the books, I found a few odds and ends.” He reached towards one of his wings. “I-I don’t have a bag, so I just kinda held on to a few of them. One did stand out to me, because I could never find the other.” Gilgamesh held out a small green twenty-sided die with a dark purple border. “I-I mean, don’t these usually come in pairs? A-and, do they normally have some sort of energy about them?”
“Where did you find that?” Grif asked. His eyes flashed briefly as they focused on the die.
“I-it was near one of the bookshelves.” Gilgamesh took a step back. “I-is it bad I found it? S-should I get rid of it?”
“I’m not sure. A similar object gave me this,” Grif said as he unsheathed his katana partially.
Gilgamesh looked to the die, then back at the katana. “Umm, but … how?”
“I’m still trying to figure that out. It’s some kinda contest, I guess? Roll the dice, and win a prize matching the number? That's the best I can tell.”
“That’s ... cool.” Gilgamesh looked at the die. “W-would one of you like it?”
Grif shook his head. “You found it, you keep it.”
“I.…” He looked from Grif to the die once more. “I’ll save it. F-for later.”
“Very well. I’ll leave you two to it.” Grif nodded, before he left the room.
Pensword and the others had been booked into the top floor of one of the hotels. A series of suites stretched elegantly throughout the floor, each with a nocturnal theme. Considering the main population of the surrounding area, it was understandable. Luna had insisted on booking an extra royal suite for Pensword and his wives as a sign of her favor and friendship. While he had accepted the offer with grace and aplomb, It was still humbling to think she had so much faith in him.
However, that humility was currently taking a back seat to the sight that lay before him on the balcony. A large arch rose high over the stone wall that enclosed the hotel, bridging over what the manager had described as the local museum. The keystone glowed like a bright red star in the cool night air. The poppy that had been painted on illuminated the rest of the stone with its gentle light, while a black circle stood in the center. “That–.” Pensword was speechless as he looked on the mark. He blinked slowly, then took to the air, gliding to settle gently in the museum courtyard. His hooves clopped heavily on the cobblestones as he looked with some surprise at the giant fountain in the courtyard’s center. Each of the Thestrals’ tribal animals surrounded a massive pillar, spewing water into the fountain pool below. A carved crystal bowl pulsed with gentle white light as pure water poured from each of the four cardinal directions to cascade down into the pool below. Pensword flew to the top to get a better view of the curious stone. The edge of the bowl was rough and uneven, but as Pensword peered closer, a familiar pang struck in his chest. Letters. The ridges were letters. Letters that chained into names, and names into ranks. He knew them all. They were the guards who had encouraged him so very long ago, and they had all made the ultimate sacrifice for their home, for his home.
A closer examination revealed one space that had yet to be filled, and he chuckled. “Left a spot for me, did you?” he asked. Then he heaved a sigh, and struck to attention, keeping his eyes on the fountain, before offering a crisp salute. Next, he turned to the giant wooden doors. Nostalgia struck again as he ran his hoof over the familiar carvings. He recognized the design, and felt the moisture pooling in his eyes at the memory of the Hooves estate. The originals had been decimated, picked clean of all the gold, metal, and stained glass artwork. Now it stood before him, resurrected from its mangled grave. He smiled as he looked up to the stained glass image of the surrounding landscape that had been so painstakingly crafted above the doors.
A minor clank sounded from within, and the doors swung open slowly on oiled hinges to reveal a large lobby with a diorama of the original village of Mountain Side Falls. He moved far enough in to let the big doors shut, and his eyes locked on the model. He could trace his route home from the schoolhouse through the market. And there was the old meadow he and his siblings used to play in, after school. A melancholy smile crossed his muzzle again. “Home,” He whispered.
Despite being so engrossed in this recreation, he was still partially aware of those in attendance around the lobby and information desk. His ears flicked, and he could hear their breathing. The room was silent as the Ponies watched a legend, darting their heads back and forth between a massive portrait of the commander on the east wall and the Pony that now stood looking over the diorama. That legend continued to ignore them as his eyes followed the winding streets and rolling hills, until a small Thestral Foal with a light blue coat, red eyes, and a violet mane walked up, and nudged the warrior timidly with a hoof.
“Um, … Mister Pensword, are … are you staying?” the foal asked.
Pensword looked down at the brave foal. He was silent for a time, then reached out a wing to lay on the foal’s head. “I am here to turn the final page on a chapter in my life that has been open for far too long.” He smiled sadly. “I have much to do, little one, and I won’t always be around.” His smile grew, emanating a gentle warmth. “But know this. These lands were my first home, so they will always be important to me. The next time I visit, my entire clan will be with me to see this, this place, the beauty that you all have built in memory of those we lost. You’ve truly made the villagers proud.”
“What? You didn’t bring your clan this time?” An older stallion balked as he stepped forward. The mark of the Wolf Tribe hung prominently around his neck. “And you call yourself a Thestral.”
Pensword had his hoof at the presumptuous stallion’s throat in less than a second. “I chose not to bring them here, because I don’t know what may set me off,” he said coldly as he glared down at the colt. “And I don’t wish them to see me, if something should, because I may do something I would regret later, and something they won’t be able to unsee. Or have you forgotten what this place, these lands, mean to me? Do you think it so simple, to let go of a pain that’s festered for over a thousand years?” he snapped as he flared his wings. “I came to this place to confront my demons at their source. Do not be so quick to judge what you cannot know. Or are you truly so arrogant as to believe the persecution you faced in your youth was anywhere nearthe trials I have had to endure?”
The Ponies in the room shrank back from the commander’s fury, even as the stallion trembled against a wall Pensword didn’t remember backing him into. The foal Pensword had shown kindness just a few moments earlier now cowered, covering his head with his wings. Seeing this, Pensword’s heart ached, and he sighed as he lowered his hoof to the ground to step back. “I am … sorry,” he apologized as he turned back to the little Pony. He left the other stallion, and lowered himself to the foal’s level, then nudged at the colt gently with his muzzle. “I am especially sorry for upsetting you, little one. It is … difficult, when someone judges me. It hurts in a place nopony else can see, but I know it’s there.”
The foal slowly opened his wings, and looked up. “Like when Misty Rain keeps yanking my tail, even when I ask her to stop?”
Pensword chuckled. “Yes, something like that.” He ruffled the colt’s mane with a wing, then stood up again.
The foyer remained silent as Pensword continued on his way. A series of stone reliefs above buttresses and crown molding portrayed a series of battles, the bestowing of the moon’s gifts to the Thestrals, the emblem of a first cave blessing, and much more. They all led to the great wooden beam that rose over the hall leading into the museum proper. Banners from each of the tribes hung on either side, and the largest banner of all showed a two twin peaks with a waterfall dropping to a lush green bottom. Mountainside Falls had, indeed, been remembered.
Pensword marched over to the ticket counter. He looked down over the desk’s intricate carvings, and his eyes alighted on a familiar symbol. His own cutie mark stood starkly as the centerpiece of the design. He pulled out a coin purse, and the ticket seller went pale.
“W-we could never charge admission for you, Sir,” she squeaked out as her wings fluttered anxiously behind her. A pink tint showed under her fur coat, and her blue eyes watered.
“Then take it as a donation,” Pensword said as he laid a pile of bits onto the table. The seller knew better than to argue, and transferred the bits into her till. He nodded gratefully to her, and pressed inside, turning back only the once to take in the spectators. Each had been garbed in some manner of pelt or hide with accessories indicative of their tribal association and clan. It wasn’t much compared to the elegance and frippery of Canterlot, but then again, this wasn’t meant to be Canterlot. He smiled, grateful to see that his people had chosen a different path, a hubler path. Then he returned his attention to the main body of the museum, and passed under the beam.
The first exhibit he came to drew him immediately. A stone statue of Baron Happy Hooves stood, protective over a broken horn segment. His heart skipped a beat as he recalled the dreadful vision of the slaughter, and the pain that had come from the loss of so many horns. He approached the paque, and read of the horn’s origins. It had come from the statue of Luna that had once stood at the entrance to the Hooves estate. A familiar pang ached in his chest as he remembered that statute from his youth. He looked up to the Baron’s statute, and it seemed almost to be smiling down at him. Pensword chuckled to himself as he wiped his tears. “You always did know how to encourage me, didn’t you?” he asked.
He then took in the rest of the room. Exits and halls spread up and down in stairwells and other display rooms. This visit would likely be a long one, but he had the time. After all, Lunar Fang and Fox Feather had been asked to attend to Luna, while she held court at the High Chieftess’ hall in the center of the city, smack dab in the middle of the Grand Lodge. Finally, Pensword decided to take an opening on his left, where the history of Dream City awaited him. Just because he had come to confront Mountainside Falls didn’t mean he felt ready for it ust yet. He would work himself up to it as he passed through the other exhibits. He muttered a silent prayer to Faust and the Moon, before pressing forward. Hopefully, he’d be able to stand it.
“Don’t worry about the time, Son,” Iron Pen’s voice echoed. “If you stay past closing, they won’t kick you out. This is your land, too, after all, and your history.”
“Thank you, Dad,” Pensword whispered as he walked under a carving of the great ursa bear with Luna’s crescent moon embedded on its forehead. The lost son of Mountainside Falls had finally found his way home.
Pensword left the museum three hours after it had closed for its shift to night staff. His cheek fur was still wet from the tears, and while he could have flown easily back to his balcony, he felt more inclined to walk. The weight of the day’s activities and the emotional output had taken their toll. His head hung low, his wings drooping as he shuffled through the courtyard and into the town. Occasionally, he mustered enough will to look up at the architecture. Sometimes stone arches would be standing over roads, each bearing the emblem of a different tribe’s animal. Pensword chuckled. “So, they have districts here, too.”
Eventually, he made his way to the heart of the city. Lights burned merrily in the windows, and the street lamps shone with a welcoming warmth. His nose twitched a moment, and he perked his ears curiously as he took a deeper breath. “Gas?” he asked, shocked, before a familiar excitement bubbled to the surface. His lips pulled up into a smile. He could just picture the Pegasi and Thestrals flying up to the tiny hinged panes to ignite the lamps each night with a long pole. The smile proved energizing, and his ears swiveled as they picked up the sound of a fountain burbling merrily.
Pensword followed the sound, which soon gave way to loud splashes and playful giggles. The fountain was a magnificent structure, closer to a water park attraction than a decoration. Foals laughed as they charged through the basin, throwing water every which way with wing, hoof, and horn as their parents looked on with indulgent smiles. A set of carefully carved steps rose from the makeshift pool to reach into the street. A veritable cascade of water poured down from a perfectly rendered titanic dragon’s maw. Its broad back lay against the side of a nearby building, while its scaly body curled around the fountain edge, leaving the lower portion of the tail to become the basin’s lip. He couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight.
“Well, old friend, I didn’t expect to see you all the way out here.” Pensword’s smile widened as he looked over the amorous couples. A few of the colts seemed to protest a bit too much over some of the foals’ behavior for it to be entirely genuine. He couldn’t help but chuckle at the shrieks of a mother as the foals ganged up on her. That was a sensation he knew only too well. In a matter of seconds, the fight had devolved into an adult on foal free-for-all. The laughter proved a cheerful companion, and he nodded courteously to those that noticed him, before moving on.
He passed a traveler's inn with fresh pelts drying on racks outside, while the scent of cooking meat wafted from a communal kitchen. His stomach growled, and he realized it had been some time since he’d last eaten. The sound of a Unicorn’s magic sounded through the open windows. It seemed a few late diners were still enjoying their evening meal.
Eventually, he happened on another enclosed compound similar to the way the museum had been set up. The tall wrought iron gate yawned open before him. A cobblestone path stretched beyond along a grassy yard. A white marble manticore fountain roared as water streamed from its mouth and stinger. A plaque had been mounted to the lip of the basin, reading:
May our homes be guarded with the roar of a manticore.
Confused, but intrigued, Pensword continued his exploration. The building rose high above the air, and a great metal disc glowed brightly as it caught the rays from the sunset. He turned aside to take in the rest of the yard, only to gape as he stared at the thickest grove of trees he’d ever seen. How had he not noticed it? The sound of the night owl hooted as the sun dipped below the horizon, and the stars began to emerge. He stepped closer, and a fox darted out from under the cover of a bush to run deeper into the grove. He followed the path further, and soon encountered a stream. He followed it to a statue of a great viper curled around a nest of stone eggs. Water flowed from its maw, and dripped from its fangs to start the flow that led into the trees. A small bridge branched over the stream, and Pensword passed in wonder, even as he fought against his fatigue.
The path wound deeper, leading further around the edge of the grove. Pensword began to pant from his exertions. Just how big around was this grove of trees in the first place? Eventually, he came up on a statue of a large mother bear rearing on her hind legs. Expertly crafted benches surrounded her, with legs shaped like paws and either end shaped like a head or tail. Truly, it was a mother surrounded by her sleeping cubs, and hse would protect them at all costs.
“‘Protect the young, for they are the future,’” he whispered hoarsely as he laid a hoof against the statue. “You taught me that a long time ago, Gramma.” He turned, and noticed one cub that differed from the rest. It lay curled at the mother bear’s paws, its eyes closed and a terrible marring on its otherwise perfectly sculpted back. This cub was no mere bench. It was the reason for the great bear’s fierce expression.
As pensword pondered this, he recalled the snake’s fangs and the eggs that lay peacefully in its nest. He’d thought it may have been the result of age, but … now, as he thought back, he remembered the many cracks that ran through one of the oblong stone orbs. “Loss,” he said. “Of course.” He felt the tears rise anew. “We always remember the ones we’ve lost, to better serve the future.” He perched on one of the benches, and let the tears fall. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been sitting there. Time passed in a sort of fog. Fatigue demanded he sleep, but his will demanded he remain awake. This was a sacred place of meditation, not a bedroom. Finally, he heard the distinctive vibration of a throat clearing. His head whipped up immediately.
Fox Feather stared at him with probing eyes as she cocked her head. As she had on occasion before, she wore the traditional fox furs in honor of her name. Lunar Fang stood by her, wrapped in her ursa minor cloak. Luna looked down from behind the pair in her full ursa armor. Meteor impact sat negligently on her back as she smiled gently at him.
“We thought you might have found this place. This is the entrance to the Forest of Loss and Protection.”
Pensword tilted his head in confusion.
Luna shrugged. “I didn’t name it. These lands were declared off limits by Celestia after my banishment, and the forest was planted. Many Thestrals moved willingly, and each tribe placed a guardian statue. As you may have surmised, each statue is designed to portray a symbol of protection and of loss. These symbols represent the purpose of this city: to protect the innocent, and to remember those who are lost, so that we may learn from them. Many a Pony has reflected on the tale of my fall, the consequences thereof, and the tale of your disappearance.
Lunar Fang walked forward, and nuzzled her husband comfortingly. Fox Feather repeated the motion on his other side.
Pensword sighed as he looked back to the building. Its disk now shone a bright silver, thanks to the light of the moon. Its windows burned brightly, and the familiar scent of a great bonfire slowly wafted towards them on the night breeze. “This is the Grand Lodge, isn’t it?”
Luna nodded. “That is correct, We had meetings this morning. We felt it would be best to show you the culture, and to see for myself how my Thestrals were treated a thousand years ago.” A brief shadow passed over her face, but then it was gone. “Come, we have much to see.”
“Can I see the other statues first?” Pensword asked.
Lunar Fang chuckled. “Of course. Did you really think we were going to let you stop at the bear? You’re a new clan leader, after all. It’s only right that you pay your respects.”
Pensword smiled, and rose back to his hooves. His legs were stiff, and his wings sore, but he wasn’t about to give up now. He pressed forward slowly as the mares followed behind. Luna eyed the commander pensively as they continued. She appeared to be pondering something for a time. Then she broke into a smile, nodded, and all was as it had been before.
The next statue showed a fox snarling and snapping at some unknown threat, while her kits stood huddled in the mouth of a stone cave. A single cub lay on its side outside the cave, while another cub in the cave mouth snarled with its mother.
Pensword turned back to Luna. “I have seen a defiant kit and a raging bear. What are they for?”
“To remember you,” Luna answered. “You are the last son of this land. You were the one that earned this place, and dedicated it as a refuge for Thestrals, a place of peace. Although you were younger than even Hurricane when he took on the rank of Commander, you fought for this land. And so you are represented as the young kit here. However, you also raged at the loss of your family, your home. And so you came to represent the great bear, fighting for that which it held so dear.”
Pensword didn’t trust himself to speak, so he continued down the path, instead. Next came the statue of the wolf. This one was different. It showed both a father wolf and a mother wolf with their cubs huddling around the back of a cave, but one young wolf snarled by the mother’s side, while another cub lay dead at the father’s paws.
The lion followed. It sat on its haunches before a stone circle with a constant flame burning in its center. The statue’s eyes peered into the night, as though on guard. A series of lionesses stood on either side of the pride leader, but unlike the other statues, Pensword could see no signs of a dead cub or any similar imagery. A single Thestral approached from the shadows, garbed in the pelt of a lion, and bearing both a ceremonial tomahawk and a dagger. The mare needed no introduction. Pensword knew her tribe.
“The Lion Tribe, who took over the Fortress, refused to follow the trail their fellows led. And so they built this. As the lion watched over the flame, so these Thestrals would keep the flame of history lit, to reveal truth, and dispel falsehood as they abide the day that history would be made flesh once more,” the guard intoned.
Pensword nodded his thanks, and they moved on.
The last statue was so large, they had no choice but to pass under its mighty wings. Its long neck and bulky torso reminded Pensword of a Charizard, albeit without the flame on its tail. A nest of broken eggs lay on the ground nearby. The path stretched on, leading to a stone hole entrance into the building with a small dragon tail sticking out of it. Pensword looked inquiringly to Luna.
“The Dragon clan swore that if war came to this land, those who lived upon the land would fight to the last mare, to give the others time to flee. No pony knows what they would have done with the foals, but many think that those old enough to fight would have fought.” Luna looked to the dragon’s snarling maw as they passed under it. A sudden gout of flames burst forth. “It also was one of the first places to have gas fire, after the first head was destroyed in a storm. The second item to receive the treatment is the eternal flame. The guards still stand watch, but they are ceremonial.”
“But still armed,” Pensword pointed out.
Luna grinned. “Let me show you the foals’ training yard, where those of Thestral blood can train with their weapons in the open, without fear of the outside trying to interfere. You might even honor them with a demonstration or go on a small hunt later, if you feel up to it.” Her horn glowed, and she levitated a cloak and Pensword’s ursa cape. “We have all night to spend with our kind to see how and what has changed, but first, we need to have thee in your robes of office.”
Pensword smiled. “Lead the way, High Chieftess.” He began to don the gear. “Though I do have a question. Why is Fox Feather wearing fur and a tomahawk?”
Luna smiled, and winked. “Because I took her before the Fox tribal leader, who just happens to be here on a trip to visit her grandfoals. After presenting Fox Feather with the High Chieftess’ blessing and a proper assessment on her hunting skills, it was agreed that Fox Feather will not simply be considered an honored wife to a Thestral Clan leader, but a true member of the tribes by adoption and ceremony. While she may have the fur of a Pegasus, like thee, she is deemed to have the soul of a Thestral. Luna says your spouse might just grow some ear tufts, if she has anything to say about it.”
The harvesting of the books and scrolls from the library went surprisingly well following the events of the first day. Over the next two days, the small group of Gryphons had found and sorted every potentially useful piece of information they could find. They also found a workshop specifically tailored for making foci. The parts had remained completely undisturbed and perfectly organized. Needless to say, Avalon had been positively ecstatic.
They’d also located several magical artifacts, which they crated and set carefully in the Gantrithor’s hold. By the end of the second day, the fortress looked very empty, indeed. Massive rooms had been left occupied only by little more than dust and shelves. As the sun set, the group found themselves around a hearty fire, while Grif roasted a few fat snakes he’d hunted earlier. Avalon sat nearby, scanning through one of her prizes with an eager light in her eyes. Tazeer chirped happily nearby from his place on a blanket. Shrial was giving Gilda lessons in current weapon maintenance. Meanwhile, Athena and Gentle Wing were quite happy crawling all over Gilgamesh. The two had been instantly fascinated with the massive Gryphon, and his normally nervous nature seemed to calm as the twins continued to explore.
“You’ve never been around cubs before?” Grif asked as he worked.
“Never. At least, from what I remember.” Gilgamesh smiled softly.
“They seem to like you. I hope they’re not bothering you.” During their short time together, Grif had developed a friendly respect for the enigma. Once he’d gotten past the shell, Gilgamesh had proven himself to be an interesting character.
“No, not at all,” Gilgamesh replied, shifting his balance for the girls as one of them swung from his neck, while the other walked along his wing.
“Tomorrow, we’ll pack up whatever’s left, and then head out. You nervous?” Grif gave one of the snakes a few pokes to check the consistency.
“A little bit, but … I don’t know. I feel more comfortable about it now, I guess.”
“Have the two of you been able to figure out how his magic works?” Grif asked Avalon.
“Not even close. We’re going to have to run a lot of tests, before we can get a proper diagnosis,” she said absently as she flicked the page in her tome and continued reading. “Fascinating….”
“Just remember, you come across anything morally questionable, we burn the pages.” Grif chuckled. “And his talons? Any idea why they're so different?”
“They appear to channel his magic almost like a focus would. It’s difficult to explain, but if I had to theorize, it’s possible that could be the reason why Gilgamesh is capable of casting magic in the first place. He could very well be the result of an experiment the evokers executed long ago, though if he is, we haven’t found any records pertaining to him yet.”
Grif shook his head. “Wouldn’t explain his age, though. He’d have to be a thousand years old, at least, and he looks younger than I am.”
“Perhaps a mutation of some kind, or a blessing from the Winds, then?”
“Maybe. You’d think they’d have warned us, though.” Grif shrugged. “Clover will find out, I’m sure.” He turned back to Gilgamesh. “How do you take your meat?”
“I don’t know?”
The room went silent for a moment. Even Athena and Gentle Wing seemed a bit stunned. “You don’t know how you like your meat?” Grif clarified.
“I-I haven’t really had anything to eat since I woke up….”
“Well then,” Grif cut a large section of one of the snakes off, “let's start you off with with this, and see how you like it. If it’s too raw, you can let me know, and I’ll heat it up a little longer.” He handed the Gryphon the skewered snake.
Gilgamesh looked with uncertainty at the piece of reptile. After a moment, he brought it close, and took a bite. He nodded after swallowing. “It tastes good.”
“Gilgamesh, my friend, … we’ve got a long way to go,” Grif sighed as he served the snake to the others.
“Is that a bad thing?”
“Don’t worry about it for now.” He turned his attention to Shrial as he handed her a section of snake. “How goes the lesson?”
“She’s still a little too soft on her left side. Her fighting’s improved, though. I assume in part thanks to your … sparring sessions.”
Gilda blushed as she looked away from the fire, and started carving patterns in the ground.
“Don’t be embarrassed, Gilda. Shrial’s just jealous, because she never saw that much gain from our ‘sparring,’” Grif teased.
“Oh, you want to talk about our sparring, hmm? Should I mention some of our moves from our wedding night, then? I’m sure the ladies would be very interested to hear about that.”
Meanwhile, Gilgamesh sat with a blank expression on his face as he looked to everyone present. “What are you all talking about?”
“Uh….” Grif chuckled awkwardly. “You’ll find out when you're older.”
Gilgamesh blinked a few times, before looking down. “How old am I, even?” he muttered as he scratched the side of his head..
“... Yes,” Grif answered as he bit into his chunk of snake.
“In other words, don’t worry about either of those,” Avalon said.
The big Gryphon was silent for a time as he weighed the wisdom of their words. “Okay,” he nodded. “I’ll trust you.”
Five miles out from New Unity, deep within the Everfree, the scouts finally caught up with their quarry. They had followed the trail for days across rocky and wet terrain, through rivers and streams. They’d lost it several times, and nearly gave up, before somehow stumbling on it again.
“I counted seventeen thousand in the clearing, and another three thousand in the cave. What about you, Star Crusher?” the verdant-green Pegasus stallion asked as he looked to his Thestral companion.
“Another twenty in the clearing across the ridge, Emerald Haze. They’re big buckers. Have to be fifteen hooves for some of them. They’ve got thicker armor and actual weapons spread out between them.”
“Together with the fifteen across the river, that makes fifty-five thousand in all,” a candy-cane-colored Unicorn mare spoke as she materialized seemingly from nowhere. “Not as many as the last attack, but these seem to be more substantial in muscle and armor plating. Intellect, too, if those were really commanders I was able to pick out. They’re moving smarter, more tactically than last time. We need to get a repor–look out!” She tackled Emerald Haze as a bolt of green magic zoomed through the area his head had been a second earlier. The buzzing of wings echoed from the bushes. “Damn. They spotted us! We need to get back to Unity now!”
They turned to find their retreat cut off by two Changelings closing in on them. Just as they went for their weapons, Gryphon talons reached from the bushes, and snapped the Changelings’ necks. The snow-covered bushes seemed to move forward. One of the taloned hands moved some of the ‘foliage’ aside to reveal a Gryphon’s face. “Grif figured following you might give these new ghillie suits a try.” Arrows suddenly shot from the foliage, skewering the first few Changelings to exit the bushline. “We’ll hold here. There’s a squad of Rohirrim about ten yards left of this position. They’ll signal when you get there, and cover your retreat. We’ll retreat then.”
“And if you don’t make it?” Star Crusher asked.
The Gryphon narrowed his gaze. “Then we don’t make it. Unity needs this warning, and so does the compound. Go now!” Then he winked. “Gonna take more than a few bugs to take us down.”
The scouts nodded as they retreated, while the Gryphons continued firing into the oncoming swarm. They needed to get to Hammer Strike. As of this moment, Unity was going to war.
Grif woke up sweating. It was still the night of their second day. Everyone else was sleeping soundly around the dying fire embers of the fire they’d built in a spare room, but the Avatar of Winds found himself waking for what felt like the fiftieth time that night.
“Whats going on?” he grumbled as he extracted himself carefully from the pile that was his wives and cubs surrounding him. He exited the room carefully, being sure to not let his talons click against the stone. Seeing as his body wouldn’t let him sleep, he figured he might as well work out some of the energy by taking a walk. He followed the halls for a while, trying to think of what might be keeping him awake. Despite his connection to the place, he’d slept perfectly soundly the night before, so what could be causing the discrepancy?
He was about to turn around and head back to the room, when something caught his attention. There, on the stone floor, a gray feather glinted in the dim light. It was too short and fat to be one of his. He bent down to pick it up, only for it to vanish. When he looked farther down the hall, it had reappeared just a few feet away. Grif raised a curious brow as he approached the feather, and tried to pick it up again. Once more, it vanished.
“Okay, this is getting weird,” Grif noted to himself as he moved forward. This time, he didn’t bother to try and pick it up. The moment he got too close, the feather vanished and reappeared. And so it kept going again and again, and he kept following it down the hall, down the stairs, out into the courtyard, into the tower, down the stairs, lower, past the dungeon, lower still. Soon Grif found himself standing outside a patch of wall that had swung aside to reveal a cool, dark passage.
He could just make out the murals that stood within, and his eyes widened as he realized exactly where he now stood. This was an entrance to Grask’s tomb. He remembered how Shrial had described the place, but she’d never mentioned this particular door before. There certainly had never been a record of it on any of the maps, nor had it been discovered on previous excursions when scanning for any hidden chambers. A powerful magic must have kept it concealed, and yet, here it was, unsealed, and awaiting his arrival.
The entrance wasn’t the only thing waiting. Rather than the ghost of his predecessor he’d been expecting, a different creature stood before him. While she possessed wings, her form was much more feline in nature. Stone-gray fur covered her from head to toe, with smaller dainty paws on both her forelegs and hind legs. Her tail whipped back and forth, much like a cat’s would when judging someone. She wore a headdress of white linen with a golden ring around her brow. Strings of beads and gemstones hung from the headpiece, framing her face.
“A ... a Sphinx?” Grif found himself asking in shock.
The creature didn’t deign to answer, and turned instead to enter the tomb, beckoning with a wing as she passed through the portal.
Against his better judgement, Grif chose to follow her, and the two passed down the hall approaching the main tomb. Halfway down, she approached the wall, and pressed her paw against it. A hidden door swung open with creaks and shrieks of protest from unoiled hinges. She entered without a word. Grif stopped for a moment at this ominous omen, but once again went against his better judgement, and darted through as the door started to close.
A cramped narrow hallway greeted him, and even with his acute eyesight, he could barely make out anything as he was forced to simply go forward. After a hundred feet, the hallway exited into a large square chamber. There was no treasure here, no weapons, no scrolls, no books.
A raised central platform stood there, supporting a black marble sarcophagus depicting a female Sphinx. The markings indicated her to be a of high standing, and some kind of prophet. A raised dais stood beside the sarcophagus, holding a single stone tablet that had been carved in old Gryphic. A large basin of oil stood nearby. Searching his person, Grif was able to find a piece of flint. Then he used a stone from the floor to spark the flint, and ignite the basin. The room erupted with light as the flame caught, illuminating much of the room and the tablet itself.
Grif stared at the tablet as he struggled to translate the ancient characters. A strange sensation filled him as he worked to understand the record. Something about the words seemed important, and he was so wrapped up in translating it that he almost didn’t pick up the voice as the apparition spoke for the first time. It held an ethereal dual-toned quality that sounded almost melodic as she spoke. At first, he couldn’t understand her, but the longer she spoke, the more he began to make it out, as though she were speaking New Gryphic, Equish, or even English.
“I am Shiara, the Gray One. I was the last prophet born before our peoples divided. Hear my last vision, Avatar. Hear, and remember:
Upon the planet Equis, where might and magic reign,
The dark one sits in slumber, bound fast by seal and chain.
All cast by dark one’s brothers for actions foul and fair,
and deep within this prison, Fifth stirs and slumbers there.
Fifth preys upon the strong to inflict pain upon the weak.
Fifth always seeks to tempt the one through whom its siblings speak.
But if the one should free Fifth’s soul, despite the vengeful odds,
then with that one will truly come the twilight of the gods.”
She repeated the words twice more as she lifted the tablet from the dais, and gave it to Grif. “Heed my vision, Avatar. Heed, and remember words as old as an age.” Grif took hold of the tablet, and the flames snuffed out as the shadows of the tomb consumed him.
Grif bolted awake, panting heavily as he rose upright, disturbing his three wives.
Gilda glared at her new husband with beady, puffy eyes. “What’s the big idea?” she grumbled.
“It was … it was just a dream,” Grif panted. “I … I saw a tomb, some kind of prophecy about the Black Gale.”
Gilda hissed, and spat at a corner.
“What’s this about a gale?” Avalon yawned as she rubbed her eyes, blinking blearily at the dull embers from the fire.
“Not agale, Avalon, thegale. The very incarnation of death, destruction, and senseless killing. You know what he means,” Shrial snapped. Being the warrior that she was, she had been the swiftest to come to full awareness.
“I was in a tomb,” Grif said. “There was a ghost there, a Sphinx. She told me a prophecy, and then gave me a tablet.”
“And what was on the tablet?” Avalon asked as she stared intently at her husband. “Tell me everything,” she insisted as she began sorting through her pack, pulling out various scrolls and tomes, before shaking her head, and tossing them back in. As she moved, something grated on the stone beneath them. When they looked, they found a stone tablet that most definitely had not been there before.
“Looks like I won’t have to tell you anything,” Grif said as he picked the tablet up. It only took him a few seconds to verify it as the one from his dream.
“... Astral storage,” Avalon gaped. “The Evokers theorized the Sphinxes had developed an art to take objects with them into the afterlife. I guess this is proof. The magic surrounding it certainly isn’t from this plane,” she said as she ran her focus along its surface.
“Avalon, it’s a prophecy about the twilight of the gods.” Grif’s face was grave. “And one who will release the gale.”
“And your point is…?”
“We could be talking about the death of the Winds here.”
“And you’re expecting it to come true just days after you’re given the record?”
“You're being incredibly cold right now, Avalon,” Grif commented.
“Practical, Grif. Practical. Seeing as you’re the Winds’ representative here, I’m pretty sure they can offer you the guidance you need. And if not, then we’ll come up with a plan B. We always do. That, and it’s very late, and we could all use a good night’s sleep after the sudden wake-up call you gave us.”
Grif sighed as he rubbed his eyes. “Maybe you’re right, but I still think you should think about the consequences a little more. Living for so long without the Winds here has nearly destroyed us. Could we really survive as a people without them at all?” He gave a yawn. “But I guess we can sleep on that.”
“Now there is wisdom.” Avalon smiled as she kissed her husband on the cheek. “Now get in here, Grif. We want our bedwarmer back,” she teased.
Shrial couldn’t help but laugh. “Now that, I can agree with.”
And with that, the group snuggled in. Problems could always be looked at tomorrow. Gilda smiled as the twins wiggled their way over to her, and snuggled up to her fur. The idea of being a mother and a wife still scared her, but she had to admit, the benefits so far weren’t too bad. She pulled the two close, then leaned up against Grif. A calm sleep followed soon after.
The sun was just rising on the third day of Pensword’s visit. He lay atop a cloud looking down over the sprawling valley below. The shadows had just begun to flee, and he couldn’t help but marvel as the light stretched over the landscape. And then it finally touched the city, and Pensword gasped. The polished white stones around the buildings’ foundations cast their walls in a brilliant halo. Early morning traffic had already begun. A pair of gryphons passed by a few Ponies, then took a seat on the benches near the dragon fountain. A Minotaur bull stared at the the communal fountain, where coins glittered beneath the sun’s reflection on the water. A large pillar towered from its center in tribute to Mountainside Falls, right down to the names of the citizens and the symbols of adoption.
Pensword couldn’t help but smile as he recalled the scale model he’d seen in the museum. The dream clan had gone so far as to adopt those who had died, and offered last rights in collaboration with the authorities of various other church authorities. The statue of an Earth Pony mare stared with piercing gaze to the west. A simulacrum of a younger Pensword stared off towards Filly De Ys. Lastly, Princess Luna looked regally towards the east to lead into the future.
A flash of red drew his attention to the grass surrounding the buildings and the plains beyond. Even after seeing it for so many days, he still marveled at how Equestria had managed to replicate an Earth poppy so well. And then, to top it all off, it seemed that this stretch of land was the only location in all of Equestria where the flower could grow. Any other attempts to grow them away from the mountains had failed. The bloom always died, and any shoots of seeds planted would only survive a short while, before they withered away. The museum had taught him the income from selling a certain amount of the poppies each year had helped to fund and maintain much of the projects and monuments in the town.
And yet, while the flower remained prolific in the valley, he’d never once seen a single person wearing the blossom. Could it be they had forgotten the old tradition? Pensword shook his head. That wasn’t right. He would reintroduce the custom. After all, what was one more tradition in a town dedicated to remembrance?
“Hey!” a voice barked, shattering Pensword’s musings. A guard flapped up to the cloud, his face dark as a storm cloud. “You can–.” The guard choked on his words as his eyes widened. “C–commander,” he gasped. He cleared his throat nervously. “Ca–carry on. Sorry I disturbed you.”
“That’s okay. I should be down there, traveling the paths.”
“Uh … that is,” The guard stammered, causing Pensword to frown.
“Where’s your military bearing, Cadet?” the commander chided.
The guard shook his head, and sputtered, then snapped to attention. “I’ll get you a two guard detail to take you around the grounds, Sir. You can go anywhere here, after all. They’re your lands.”
Pensword smiled weakly, then nodded. “Thank you.”
“Not a problem, Sir.”
Pensword opened his wings, and took flight. bursting the cloud apart with a single buck at the same time, before gliding gently towards the ground. In a matter of minutes, he was flanked by the first guard and one of his fellows. He landed at the old city hall, where a stone slab had been laid out front with an etching of how the original hall had looked before it had been destroyed. Closer inspection revealed a plaque explaining how the stone had been hauled from the local quarry to be used here. He closed his eyes, and let himself walk down the paths of memory. His hooves crunched the gravel as the ghostly laughter of foals flitting through the marketplace, while the adults worked their trades echoed through his ears.
The sounds all stopped when he noticed the sunlight suddenly blocked. He snapped his eyes open to see a bulky, elderly gray Gryphon gawking with wide eyes. Gravel sprayed in the Gryphon’s rush to the ground. His beak was covered by a cloud of dirt as it scraped the earth beneath the gravel.
“I beg your pardon, Commander,” he quailed.
Pensword saw the fear, the sorrow, the pain, but mostly the fear, and he recoiled. It was one thing to hold a vendetta against the Gryphons of the empire, but … this was an old one, most likely Equestrian born. The guards braced themselves, but Pensword raised a staying wing. If there was one thing he and Matthew could agree on, it was to show respect when respect was offered, and gentleness when needed most. Both knew this was such a time.
He stepped forward, and bent to raise the Gryphon up. “Please, there is no need for such behavior. I believe both of us can agree it is most unwarrior-like.Thou feelest pain and regret to even be in this place. I would surmise such feelings were brought about by the actions of an ancestor or some clan from which thou art descended. And yet, thou art here to learn of thine ancestors’ failings, rather than deny or laud them. That is more than can be said for many others.”
“I … well, um, thank you,” the Gryphon sputtered.
“A true warrior knows how to identify an enemy,” Pensword shrugged. “You are not an enemy. I assume you have come here to learn of your peoples’ history from the Pony perspective, and the things which I witnessed firsthoof. You have my permission to do so. It is best for all of us to learn, so that our own children will not make the same mistakes.”
The Gryphon coughed awkwardly. “Thank you for the compliment. I’ve been told that I look rather young for my age, but I’m afraid that I am far past the cub rearing phase.”
“Then learn what you can, and teach whom you can. Thestral, Unicorn, Gryphon, Pegasus, Earth Pony, any that need it. They need not be your own cubs to learn at your talons.”
“Right. Well, thank you again. I … look forward to learning, I suppose.” The old Gryphon nodded respectfully to the guards and Pensword, before turning aside and making his way down the path.
Pensword sighed ruefully, then made his own way through town. He trotted beyond the borders and into the fields beyond. He hardly knew what he was doing, letting his hooves guide his steps. And so it was that he found himself standing before an old cottage with four white stone walls, and a pair of small windows on either side of the door. The construction was new, but the architecture followed a style that had fallen out of use centuries ago. He walked up to it, and brushed his hoof against the door. It swung in at his touch, revealing the cramped, empty recreation of the rooms where he had grown up. He wandered through each, and smiled softly at the familiar memories. The poppies outside made the cottage a truly picturesque scene.
The guards waited patiently on either side of the entrance, and Pensword heaved a heavy sigh. He’d missed home, but that didn’t make it easier to shoulder the loss, even if he had been able to build something new in its place. He clopped over to the hearth, and ran a hoof over the new stone. Then he stepped up, and laid himself down in front of the hole. He could almost hear the fire crackling as his mother hummed in her rocking chair with her sketch pad, while his brother and sister either napped with him or watched the logs burn. As the tune shimmered through his memory, he closed his eyes and laid his head on a hoof. The sleep came quickly.
Pensword peered through the now-familiar mists of his mind. He could have built up a whole world, if he’d wanted to, but for some reason, he didn’t. He felt strangely neutral. about the whole thing, as though his emotions had been … dulled somehow. He felt a presence behind him, but sensed no ill intent, so he rose and turned to face … himself?
“What?” Pensword asked in confusion. “Who are…?” While the dullness remained, he still felt that familiar sense of caution, and crouched into a defensive stance.
“As I am, you once were,” the other Pensword said simply. “As you are, I will one day be.”
“... Matthew?” Pensword asked uncertainly. “But … you look like me.”
“Yes, because we’re the same,” Matthew replied simply.
“No, you’re a human from Earth, stuck in Equestria, waiting for the princesses to bring your body back.”
“And I am also the foal who got a second chance at living and growing up. I am the one who lost his entire family in a Gryphon attack.”
“No, that’s me!” Pensword snapped. “You have a family that loves you on Earth.”
“Correction: You do,” Matthew replied.
“Come again?”
“You have two families,” Matthew said simply as he shrugged his wings. “You know how Luna’s been giving you a break lately? She’s been taking that time to talk with me one-on-one. You weren’t willing to accept what she told you, so she had to try it with me, instead.”
Pensword raised a brow in confusion. “Come again?”
Matthew smiled as he took a relaxing breath. “You and I are the same mind. I’m just the manifestation of that exists because of the stress we faced losing our family, and then having all our old memories spring back at once. We never really split in the first place. Truth be told, we’ve been working together for a long time now. We just weren’t willing to acknowledge the merge.” He waved a wing, and the familiar images of Grif and Taze appeared before them. “Grif and Taze found their own way to merge together, and they became a new entity, someone who was both, yet neither. The whole point of this meeting now between us is that we need to realize we’ve always been one. Both lives were lived by us. Both of us had the same set of morals, the same ideals, and the same trauma. Why else do you think Luna has kept us aboard her staff in the first place? If you and I were really two different minds sharing one body, we wouldn’t be fit for duty, and we’d probably be visiting a psychiatrist every week.”
Pensword opened his muzzle to respond. A brief surge of air rose as he prepared to speak. Then the air caught in his throat, he croaked, and closed his muzzle again as his brow furrowed.
“While you're thinking, you should know that while you and Lunar Fang thought I was in control with the trains, I wasn’t. Well, I guess it’s better to say that neither of us truly were. If it really were just me, I never would have given up one of my locomotives to someone else. I’m a little OCD there. You were the kindhearted soul that gave something to a mare who never really had any gifts or things to call her own.”
Pensword paused and frowned. “I … don’t want to lose you,” he finally admitted. “I know … I guess I always knew I had access to your … our memories and thoughts, but I liked our conversations too much to just … go there like that.”
Matthew chuckled. “And we’ll continue to have those conversations. Do you really think we’re the only ones that have internal debates?” He shook his head, even as he continued to smile. “It’s time we put this to bed once and for all.” He offered a hoof. “I am a Pony.”
Pensword reached out a hoof, and watched half in surprise, half in relief as the hoof morphed into a familiar hand. “I am a Human,” he continued.
“We are Pensword, through and through. We have a family on Earth. We watched and lived our Pony family’s death,” they spoke together, even as the mists began to eddy and swirl around them with streaks of light. “We have knowledge of Earth’s history and the training of the Equestrian Military.”
“Till the last shot is fired,” Matthew started as he rose and flared his wings.
“I’ll stand watch over my lands,” Pensword finished as he rose on two solid legs stepped forward, knelt, and embraced himself.
Pensword didn’t know how long he’d stood there. It felt like seconds. Or was it an eternity? A firm cough pulled him out of the fog. He looked on in confusion as a familiar star-filled mane billowed in front of his face. His eyes widened, and he pulled away from the now familiar face of Princess Luna, though she now stood eye to eye with the commander.
“Princess?” he balked.
“Easy, Pensword. I’m sorry I didn’t say anything, but your mind needed the time to heal properly. Once you reconciled with your psyche, I came. And since you wanted to hug something, well … I appear to have replaced your projection of yourself.” She chuckled, then smiled kindly at him. “I am so proud of you, Commander Moonkissed Pensword, Matthew Washington Hurricane of Equestria’s Armies and Earth attache, my dear friend.” The mists rippled around her as her body expanded to its proper size once more, and she looked down on the Pegasus with a familiar motherly gaze. “Only a select few of us will know know of your combined titles, of course. But it is better that way. That being said, we still have the matter of dealing with young Matthew to consider. As of today, our records show that he’s still technically in a coma.”
“Bury him officially here in Mountainside Falls. I would have enjoyed it, if I was still human and knew the meaning of this place. But make sure to prepare an empty coffin, too, to represent him and his return home. I wish him to be ‘buried’ in George Park, once we can travel back to Earth again. It’s Earth’s counterpart to Mountainside Falls. Maybe we can offer an honor guard of sorts as well. Nothing grand, just … proper for the sacrifices he made.”
“Neither I nor my sister will forget the deeds of one so weak, and yet so very strong.” She laid a wing on his head, and patted it a few times. “It truly is amazing, what you accomplished here for us, and we will never forget it.”
“I know.” Pensword chuckled. “You know, Lunar Fang figured something like this might happen. She said that if I should ‘kill’ Matthew, she would give that name to our first colt as his middle name. Fitting, don’t you think?”
The dream plane had shifted, now that Pensword had finished his discussion with himself. A large chamber towered three stories tall with bookcases as far as the eye could see. Thick metal staircases and walkways dotted the room, and movable ladders attached themselves on every bookcase for ease of use. Models of objects and events from his past as a human and Pony dotted the various display tables and alcoves of what had to be a library of some sort. Colors, crests, and symbols for the Gryphon Slayers, the Demon Damned, the Demon Slayers, the US Army, the logo for his grandfather’s unit, George Washington’s flag, and Pensword’s own personal colors. Then he laid his eyes on the family crests, both from Earth and his own. Two flags stood on either side of a massive stained glass window, the one for the United States, the other for Equestria. A smile crossed his muzzle as scenes from the library in The Last Crusade played on a television screen off to the side. He watched them for a time, then turned his attention back to the stained glass window again.
The colored shards of glass wove together to depict his history, his dual nature as Equestrian and Human, all while flowing together in seamless unity. All of his family members, both Equine, Human, and adopted flowed together around the edges of the window. He smiled, then looked down at a very familiar tile pattern. He quickly took wing, and nearly squeed with delight when he realized the likeness to the library in Indiana Jones: The Last Crusade, complete with the large X. The only difference here laid in the fact that a large table stood on top of the floor with a large scale model of the Titanic encased perfectly in a glass case.
Luna walked to a non-stained-glass window, and beckoned Pensword to walk to the window. The two looked out to see a veritable legion of trebuchets and WWII tanks guarding the sanctuary. He withdrew himself from the window to peek down a hall he’d noticed earlier, and his smile widened into a grin as he eyed two models, one of the Bismarck and the other the Yamato. “You know, Luna, I’m still continuing the tradition of calling Lunar Fang my little Thestral.”
“As long as thou art prepared for her calling you her little Human,” Luna responded with a grin. “It’s good to continue past traditions. So much history can be tied to those two words. Hopefully, with your knowledge and experience fully combined, you won’t make the same mistake my sister and thee did with Lord Shawn, hmm?”
Pensword ruffled his feathers. “Can we please not talk about that? I still get phantom pains sometimes.”
Luna’s laughter cascaded like a waterfall as she gazed on the Pony’s blushing face. The spark of Matthew’s enthusiasm mixed now with Pensword’s experience and wisdom, making him look more distinguished. That effect was ruined, however, by the new psyche’s combined fluster reflex. She uttered something in a language Pensword had never heard before.
“Sorry, did you say something, Luna?” Pensword asked.
Luna only smiled cryptically in response.
“All right, Aria. Are you ready to test those wings?” Vital smiled as he stood in the castle’s courtyard. The cryophoenix perched atop his horn as it looked curiously around its new surroundings. A fresh coating of frost covered the cobblestones, making them sparkle in the early morning air as Vital’s breath puffed in tiny clouds. Snow crowned the parapets and upper walls of the keep, and a gentle breeze flowed up from the south, carrying a flurry of flakes kicked up from snowdrifts nearby.
Aria chirped happily as she ruffled her breast feathers, and shook her long, flowing tail. The extra exposure to the cold of winter had increased her growth cycle dramatically, and her pale blue had darkened to a mixture of indigo and arctic with hints of white fringing up from the sides of her eyes and along the tips of her tail feathers.
“Then let’s get this party started. Remember. Flap your wings for lift, then use your magic to push cold air down around you, and force an artificial warm air column to push you up.”
Aria let out a playful trill as her shoulders shook, before flapping her wings, and leaping into the air. A sparkling vapor not unlike a cloud of ice crystals trailed behind her tail as she flapped, climbing higher and higher. She tucked her feet in to reduce drag from the wind. Then, once she’d gained enough height, she dropped into a dive, and pulled up a few feet above the ground, tracing her long feathers along the cobbles to spread her mist over the ground behind in curling patterns and shapes. She sang as she repeated the exercise again and again, using her tail as her brush and the stones as her canvas. When she’d passed for the tenth time, she alighted on Vital’s shoulder, and nuzzled against his cheek as he craned his neck back to check on her.
“Nicely done,” he complimented her. “You’re a real natural.” Aria pulled her head back to her shoulders in what Vital could only guess was the avian equivalent of a blush. Vital chuckled in return. “All right, all right. I can take a hint. How about we get you inside for a nice treat, hmm? I think we still have some venison somewhere in the kitchens.
“Attack,” a weak cry came in over the walls. The parapet guards rushed to their stations to watch the horizon as a cluster of shadowy figures raced towards New Unity, kicking up snow and slush in their wake.
Vital Spark narrowed his gaze. “What’s going on up there, Farseer?” he called up. “Friend or foe?”
“Scouts coming back at full charge, with Rohirrim in tow. They’re carrying an injured Gryphon.”
Vital narrowed his gaze. “Then it sounds like it’s time to sound the alarm. Set off the signal flare to rally the troops. Alert condition yellow. And send off a runner to get the commanding officers here as soon as you can. I’ll go get Clover and Hammer Strike. They’ll want to be here for the briefing.”
Moments later, the signal fire lit, and as the party drew close, the Rohirrim powered through the gates with the Gryphon in tow, while the scouts lagged in after, panting heavily.
Seconds later, Black Rook was on the scene, glaring up at the signal fires, then looking at his own men. “Somebody get Big Guns,” he ordered as his eyes fell on the Gryphon. “We’ll need help moving him to the infirmary.” Then he turned on the scouts. “Report.”
“Over fifty thousand Changelings five miles out. They’re right on our hooves. They’re larger, better armored, and possibly more intelligent than the last group,” Emerald Haze reported.
“Signs of Chrysalis?”
“None yet, Sir, but given these are Changelings, she may have been hiding her presence.”
“Have we sent word to Me-Me?”
“We just arrived, Sir,” Emerald haze pointed out. “We’ve been galloping for almost a day straight.”
“Then we can expect them to reach us in far less.” He raised his head. “Farsight! Send an alert to Grif’s compound, and get a representative over here ASAP,” he barked. “We need a war council.” He turned back to the others. “Has someone already gone to alert Clover and Hammer Strike?”
“Tower is on his way already,” Blast shouted as he exited the armory. “I want troops manning the towers, but don’t show your heads. We need to get those mages forward to activate the magic defenses. And by Sleipnir, get that second wall manned!” he barked along the parapets. “We’re not going to lose those lands a second time.”
“Yes, Sir!” Rook saluted. “Permission to rally the mages?”
“Granted. Get going. We don’t have much time. Get the flyers while you’re at it. I want the air force deployed to take the clouds, if we can,” Blast barked.
“Yes, Sir!” Rook saluted, then galloped towards the barracks as fast as his legs could carry him. His eyes narrowed in determination. They weren’t going to hurt anypony else this time, not if he could help it.
Tower panted breathlessly as he burst into Hammer Strike’s office. “We’re under attack! Fifty thousand Changelings are on the way, and reports say they’re armed, armored, and more intelligent. To sum it up, Sir, we’re in trouble.”
Hammer Strike growled faintly as he placed his quill down. “It seems they didn’t get the message last time. Are preparations underway?”
“Blast is rallying the troops, and Gryphons are pouring in to hasten battle preparations. The Bladefeather compound is going into lockdown. I advise contacting Grif and the Commander quickly, and instructing them to return with all due speed.”
Hammer Strike nodded. “To better the odds, I’m granting permission to use up to class two weapons.”
“Understood. I’ll pass the note to a runner. I need to get to Clover now to let her know. We need every mage possible on the front. We’ve got a lot of loose lumber lying around the outer second wall. I hate to waste materials, but you might need to burn them to keep the Changelings from using them.”
“I’ll get on that as soon as I can. Go alert Clover while I prepare.”
“Sir!” Blast snapped a salute, before galloping out the office as quickly as his hooves could carry him. The air resounded with the rhythmic tromp of organized hooves as the guards took their positions, while civilians were escorted to bunkers built by Me-Me and the Thestrals just for such an occasion.
Vital Spark entered the lab with little ceremony. Clover appeared to be dangling a fragment of metal over a heated beaker, where a solution bubbled steadily. A set of heavy duty goggles covered her eyes, and a thick leather apron protected her front as she prepared to drop it in.
“Clover?” Vital asked gently. He knew better than to startle his teacher, especially when she was in the middle of a project.
“What is it, Vital Spark?” she asked, not even bothering to look up from her work.
“It’s Chrysalis. She’s coming for another swing at New Unity. I volunteered to come get you, since I know you don’t generally like how … insistent troops can be at times like this.”
“How many?” Clover asked as she worked.
“About fifty thousand, but she’s made some modifications.”
“Gather the class together, have them pair up, and for Celestia’s sake, put on some proper robes,” Clover chided him as she took her current robe off, replacing it with a sturdier midnight blue one. Several areas contained plates of some sky-blue metal. She grabbed her focus, testing the mace end carefully.
Vital nodded as he prepared to leave, then turned back as a thought struck him. “Can Aria maybe wait out the battle here? She’s already had her morning meal, and I don’t know if she’s ready for proper combat yet.”
“No, I want you to bring an infant phoenix to the front lines,” Clover said as she rolled her eyes.
Vital chuckled. “Thanks, Clover. It’s good to know you still care.” Vital shot a bolt of magic into a corner, where he froze up a bird stand made out of solid ice, complete with environmental runes to regulate temperature. “There you go, Aria,” he said as he levitated the chick onto her new perch. “Now you be a good girl while I’m gone. Clover and I have to help defend the castle.”
Aria cheeped longingly.
“Not until you’re older, young lady. I promise, we’ll be fine.” He kissed her gently on the top of her head. “Now you be safe, too.” Then he turned back to Clover. “Meet you at the barracks?”
“No, you're with Trixie this time. Keep each other safe. It’s time I stretched my muscles.”
“... I meant for the big meet before we all separate, but okay. I don’t think Trixie will object too much,” Vital said with a chuckle. “Don’t think I have much to complain about either.” He let the smile drop as he looked on his teacher. “Be safe out there, Clover.” He let a playful smirk pull at the corners of his mouth. “You may be a pain in my tail, but you’re the only teacher I’ve got. I’d rather not have to go through the trouble of finding someone else.”
“Please. If fifty thousand and change had been enough to kill me, I’d have been dead long ago,” Clover chuckled. “Pay attention. You might learn something.”
“I always do with you around.” Vital smiled as he left out the lab’s door. “See you on the other side, Shifu.”
“Hopefully, no time soon.” And with a pop, Clover was gone.
Vital chuckled. “Not what I meant, but I’ll take it.” With that, he left, and closed the door behind him, only to smack into Tower Shield. “Oh, hey, Tower. You here to find Clover?”
“Yes, I–.”
“I already told her. She’s gone to the border to prepare. I’m heading to my quarters to get my gear, then to find Trixie. We’ll see you out there.”
“Right.” Tower nodded as he turned about, and made a dash for the nearest stairwell. After all, the troops needed him to help organize tactics.
Chrysalis stood towards the rear of her ranks, a mad glimmer in her eye as she glared at the walls of New Unity, before turning to her full target. <Go, my Changelings. Go, and pillage the Gryphons. Whittle the Ponies’ allies down one by one.> Then she turned to address another of her praetorians. <Go. Take five thousand, and cut off the newest princess. Cocoon her and her friends. Do with the rest of the town as you see fit. Deny them staging, and cut off that despicable Twilight before her magic can be brought to bear.>
The praetorian saluted, and buzzed its wings as it and the ordered five thousand flew toward Ponyville. Chrysalis cackled with glee as the first of her guards pivoted towards the Gryphon Compound, while the flanks were being defended by Changelings with blue crystal prisms growing out of their backs. On a single command, they launched half the crystals as they impacted and struck the barriers. They pulsed, and began to grow as they fed on the magic, developing the beginnings of a crystal wall. The attack was going quite well, all things considered. That … confused the Changeling queen. So far, none of her forces had been attacked. What was taking them so long?
Twilight burst up from her pile of paperwork as a massive detonation shook the tree. She raced to her window to see what was going on, only to gasp at the sight. The airship Pensword had assigned to guard the town border was smoking, and it appeared to have declared war on the Everfree itself. A large scorch mark smoked in the distance. Craters pockmarked the ground near the path towards New Unity. The princess would have thought it a cannon’s misfire or an exercise, were it not for the hint of motion she noticed in that black mark. Seconds later, a veritable wave of black, green, and blue surged out from the pile of what she surmised to be … corpses.
She did her best to swallow the bile building in the back of her throat. Like it or not, Ponyville was under attack, and if this was anything like what the attack on New Unity had been, it meant they needed to initiate countermeasures immediately. She teleported to Mayor Mare’s office, startling the official as she spoke to what Twilight could only assume was a reporter from Canterlot.
“Mayor Mare, we have a problem.”
“What is it, Twilight?” the mayor asked.
“Ponyville is under attack. It’s time to execute Plan SRB-01.”
“What?”
“Mayor, the town is about to go into a panic, if we don’t start immediately. We have a whole swarm of Changelings on our doorstep. I need you to activate the emergency net now, and evacuate the citizens. The Santa Maria can only buy us so much time.”
“That’s what the noise was all about? I thought Rainbow Dash was just up to one of her pranks again.”
“Mayor, now, please,” Twilight insisted firmly.
“Right.” Mayor Mare reached into her desk, and pulled out a pulsing green convex crystal mounted in four jagged black spires. A series of colorful bands glowed between, as though holding the structure together. She quickly stroked each of the four sides, one up, one down, up, then down, followed by tapping a series of individual strings, which each let out their own musical tone, before she finally rapped her hoof solidly on the top of the crystal, causing it to ring out through the room.
The sound of Changeling fire erupted, and Mayor Mare turned to look out the window. The familiar red chiton of Me-Me’s Changelings greeted her gaze as each marched up in an orderly fashion, and knocked on the residents’ doors.
“It’s done, Twilight.”
Twilight nodded. “Good. Make sure to get everyone into the shelters. Me-Me said they should be able to mask your emotions as long as you stay there. Twilight narrowed her gaze, then flicked her horn as magic poured off of it. Her focus appeared in a flash of light, its gems practically glowing as its polished blade gleamed. A set of light purple pauldrons and a slightly darker peytral with her cutie mark engraved on it glinted in her magic’s glow.
“Y-you don’t really intend to go into battle, do you, Princess?” the newspony spoke up for the first time since her arrival.
“Sorry, but I don’t have time for an interview. Mayor Mare, take him with you. Make sure to test him with the lanterns, just to be on the safe side. If the others are here, have them help with the evacuation. They can come join me after.”
Mayor Mare nodded grimly as she pushed her glasses back up her nose. “Of course, Twilight. Good luck out there.”
And with that, Twilight disappeared in a flash of light.
“Well don’t just stand there. Come on!” Mayor Mare said as she pulled the flabbergasted reporter out the door by his collar.
“TRIPLE MAXIMIZE MAGIC!” Clover swung her focus as dozens of bright blue magic circles materialized behind her, and began shooting globes of bright white light. “GREATER ANTI-MAGIC BARRAGE!” As the energy hit, massive groups of Changelings seemed to cease to exist.
She didn’t even wait to see the spell finish as she turned to face another advance force. This time, firey orange circles appeared behind her. “TRIPLE MAXIMIZE MAGIC: VOLCANIC ERUPTION BARRAGE!” Balls of molten lava began flooding out, melting Changelings left, right, and center.
Clover drove the head of her staff into the ground. The large magic circles appeared before her in yellow, blue, and red. “Mother Faust, lend me your sacred breath to make my contract heard. From the depths of the furnace, come to me, and honor the deal we made. Summon!” The red circle erupted in flames as imps, drakes and other creatures poured through the gap.
“From the heights of Heaven, repay me with your divine grace. Summon!” Electricity crackled menacingly from the yellow circle as sentient thunder clouds flooded out.
“From your palace at Nibelheim, speed to my aid. Summon!” Frost and snow poured from the blue circle as living snowmen slid out. With the gates open, Clover’s horn burned as an extra six layers of magic covered the circles, and the ground started to smoke. “TRIPLE MAXIMIZE BOSS SUMMON!” The gates suddenly reversed, sucking the creatures escaping them back in. Then they exploded as roaring infernos, deadly thunderstorms, and jagged ice erupted from their mouths. Three shadows emerged from the gates amid the chaos, towering and menacing in their own rights.
The first was a large creature, built like a Minotaur with massive hooves, a bulky bipedal body, and long horns. However, that’s where similarities to the race ended. His face was flat, with a large sloping brow and deep set eyes. His wide-lipped mouth gave way to jagged fangs. His horns curved upwards and behind him in a savage demonic arc. His body was covered in blood-red fur that seemed to pulse with tiny lava streams, and his eyes literally burned with tongues of fire. A long prehensile tail swept behind him. His massive arms ended in five-fingered clawed hands that held shackles on both wrists with the remnants of his broken chain links attached. A large spiked club was gripped tightly in his right hand, and the ground beneath him scorched with every hoof step.
The second figure to step out was a human, though few in Equestria would know what that was. He was tall and thin. Yet, despite his ancient form, his body seemed to emanate an aura that demanded both respect and fear. A long golden spear was clenched in his right hand, and his eyes crackled with the fury of a thousand storms. A long white fluffy beard was the only welcoming thing on his visage, and it stretched nearly to his feet.
The last was also human, though she was far paler than her yellow counterpart. Her body was wrapped in gauzy blue silk, studded in jewels that could have been either diamonds or large pieces of ice. An ornate crown shaped much like a castle stood boldly atop her brow, and she carried a pale white whip with glowing blue runes running down its length. A white mist hovered and sparkled around it and her, enhancing the beauty of her lean figure. The wind swirled constantly around her, causing her hair to writhe in the air. With each flash in the light, a corona of rainbows surrounded her head, distracting her enemies, and accentuating her form. Her gown billowed and shifted around her arms and legs, drawing the eye to her scantily clad frame. Her lips were a frostbitten blue. A deep ocean-blue fabric tied her breasts to her chest, complimenting the loincloth that swayed with every sashay of her hips. Wherever her feet stepped, the snow seemed to thicken and double in size, while patches of slush became glacial chunks of ice waiting to perform their mistress’ bidding.
“Oh, you have got to be kiddingme!” Vital half gaped, half grinned at the sight, even as the icy maiden turned, and gave him a flirtatious wink, before returning to the task for which she had been summoned. “Shiva, Ramuh, and Ifrit all at once?”
“Seriously, Clover?” Shiva said. Her voice was as gentle as a breeze, melodious as crystal, and cold as the arctic. “We give you access to our power, and you bring us to exterminate cockroaches?” She tsked, and shook her head. “For shame.”
The crystals the Changelings had embedded into the protective barriers had grown to ten times their original size, and pulsed threateningly. Suddenly, they flared with a brilliant light, before detonating with a powerful explosion. Crystal shards whizzed through the air like shrapnel. Cries of pain arose as the shards embedded themselves within sensitive Pony flesh, after having overwhelmed what magic was left in the segments of barrier they had detonated on. The Changelings launched another barrage into the barriers, even as the fields began to regenerate.
“Clover!” Blast Shield roared from the walls as he oversaw the retreat to a safer distance. “We’ve got wounded and magic bombs! We need you up here!”
“Do you want a chance to move them, or do you want me and the swarm over there? I can’t hold this spell and go help you!” Clover yelled back. She looked to the three. “Listen, it’s not a good time right now. We have a contract, so stop being stubborn, and go kick some bucking ass!”
“Were it not for the souls here to torture, I would have you roasting on a spit in the inferno, little Pony,” Ifrit’s growl rumbled over the battlefield. He chuckled darkly as the veins of magma pulsed near his hands. Lava hissed, burning into the ground as two spheres appeared in his palms, then doubled, tripled, quadrupled in size. He grinned, baring his fangs as his eyes glowed an unholy red. “So, you enjoy explosions, do you? Watch how a truemaster does it.” Then he thrust his hands forward, and the spheres launched, consuming everything in their path before making ground contact, and detonating in twin columns of flame that set off smaller concussions along the cracks that stretched out from them. He laughed as he heard the screams.
“Ah, the young are so hot blooded,” Ramuh sighed as he looked over the approaching swarm. Then his beard twitched as the corners of his mouth pulled up into a smile. “Tell me, vermin, have any of you ever heard of a magical device called a bug zapper?” He raised his spear above his head, and thunderheads gathered overhead. Bright flashes of lightning blazed behind the curtain of vapor, before suddenly parting as a score of metal spears identical to that which the elemental held embedded themselves into the ground. Their heads suddenly split apart like flower petals, and a resounding crash sounded as the blinding bolts struck. The electrical current jumped from spear to spear, capturing all the Changelings within, and channeling millions of volts through their corpses. He raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Interesting. I haven’t encountered a hive mind in quite some time. Tell me, did you know the brain is run by electrical impulses?” He chuckled as bolts of lightning sheared through the air with pinpoint accuracy. “In other words, I know where each and every one of you are now.”
Shiva let loose a throaty chuckle. “Come now, Grandfather. Couldn’t you at least try to leave a few for me? If Clover is going to go to the trouble of summoning me in the first place, I want to reach my quota.” She raised a hand, and the snow drifts rose from the ground in a swirling torrent, circling her frame and obscuring her as the ice chunks tore themselves from the ground and broke apart. The snow danced around them, cleansing the mud and grime to leave a perfectly clear prismatic surface. Two hands emerged from the storm to touch each block, and glowing blue henna scrawled all over them, before they shattered into icicles. The snow storm condensed around each of the frozen daggers, imbuing them with Shiva’s frigid essence, before she thrust her hands forward, and rained a frozen hell on the enemy. Those whose chiton managed to take the brunt of the impalement pressed on, only to shudder as spidery white designs spread out from the site of impact. Soon they began to stumble. Their eyes grew heavy. Their hooves grated against the ground, before that fatal trip sent them tumbling forward. Their bodies became completely white, then shattered as their own momentum dashed them against the ground.
Ramuh groaned. “Why is it that you two always have to compete with each other?”
“You really have to ask?” both returned in perfect synch.
Clover’s strength began to falter, and the aura covering her horn began to fade as she struggled to keep the connection. “I’m not sure how much longer I can do this, but if there is anything any of you can do to stem the flow long enough to let us prepare, I’d appreciate it.”
“Children,” Ramuh said as he motioned towards the battlefield, “if you would.”
“Why is it we always have to do the legwork?”
“Because Gaia likes to eat my magic,” he said pointedly, “And as much as I enjoy satisfying her appetite, this is neither the time nor the place.”
“Why, Grandfather. I didn’t know it was like that.” Shiva chuckled again. “I wonder what Titan will think.”
“Where do you think he came from in the first place?” Ramuh asked with a completely straight face.
“Too much information!” both siblings shouted at once as Ifrit leaped high into the air, and came crashing down, triggering an eruption that spread across the forest as red-hot lava spewed up to form a natural barrier. Shiva placed her hands on the ground, and willed her frost into the ground to harden the entirety leading back to the castle and other fortifications. Then she rose, and jumped onto Ifrit’s shoulders.
“If you don’t mind, brother dear,” she said.
Ifrit rolled his eyes, then jumped up over his barrier, and threw her down. She smirked as she took a deep breath, then exhaled a harsh wind. Her hands turned completely white as a barrage of nigh-absolute zero winds blew out to wash over the invaders. The crack of tinkling crystal sounded as the Changelings’ wings froze into delicate works of art. Then Shiva smirked, before snapping her fingers, causing all of them to shatter.
“I think that should suffice. Wouldn’t you agree?” she asked.
“Hardly,” Ifrit said as he rolled his eyes. “But it’s the best we can do, given the situation.” He rose as his form began to fade, and golden flecks flew off him back towards his portal. Shiva soon followed suit with hers, and Ramuh likewise as his spears returned to the seal from whence he’d emerged.
“It would seem our time is up,” Ramuh said with a warm smile as he patted the ground. “Until next we meet, fair lady.” He smiled as he raised his spear one last time, and a final torrent of lightning crashed into the earth. “Farewell,” he saluted as the last of his form faded, and his portal began to close. Shiva’s and Ifrit’s soon followed.
Clover staggered for a moment as the summoning gates collapsed. She used her staff as a crutch to pull herself to her hooves, and began to trek back to the wall. For many, it was the first time they’d seen the mage so worn out as she limped forward. Her age was now quite clear to them all as the gray in her mane and the wrinkles in her face were overshadowed by her fatigue.
“Anybody here got an ether to spare?” Vital asked, then let out a nervous chuckle as everyone stared at him. “Sorry. Force of habit.”
The battle raged on as a stray bolt of magic exploded the town fountain, leaving an exposed pipe to spurt water over the square. That water soon began to boil, however, and then to steam as a bright flash of light filled the air. Seconds later, a fully armored Celestia stepped forth from the cloud of steam her teleportation had generated. Her sword glowed a menacing white as she leveled it toward a group of Changelings that had surrounded her. Her mouth remained set in a grim straight line as she stared the group down.
It didn’t take long to break the standoff. The Changelings lunged with a savage ferocity. Celestia gave a casual flick with her horn, and the scent of burning flesh and boiling fluid filld the air with its reek. The Changelings fell apart, having been neatly sliced in half at their torsos. Her armor shone with the light of her celestial charge. The golden pauldrons had been carefully etched to portray a set of wings on either side. Her armored leggings had been expertly plated, reaching down from chest to hoof, with flexible joints to ensure proper mobility. Her breastplate also shone with a similar light. The image of a Unicorn head with wings spread out on either side had been burnished on, the emblem of the warrior chapter of Faust. The remainder of the armor spread like scales down her back and around her barrel. Her ethereal mane and tail flared with flames as she took in her surroundings.
A Pop sounded, and Celestia found the sharp edge of Twilight’s focus stopping just millimeters away from her face. Twilight’s eyes were wide with surprise, before she spun around, and sent a concussive blast at another party of the invaders. “Princess Celestia, what are you doing here? I thought you swore off military combat.”
“That may well be true, Twilight,” Celestia replied as her blade swept through another line of Changelings. Then she fired a concentrated beam of light from her her horn to take out three more Changelings. “However, these are extenuating circumstances. I had hoped never to have to fight again, but I included a few loopholes for situations like this. After all, what sort of Princess would I be, if I weren’t willing to protect my Ponies?” She looked Twilight up and down. “I see Clover has taught you well. Let’s see just how far that training has gone. I can sense about two thousand Changelings left in the vicinity. Are there any others?”
Twilight nodded. “They all heard Pinkie’s party cannon going off. She’s been popping up all over the place to distract them and make openings for the rest of us. Rainbow Dash and Rarity are on picket line with the Ponyville militia. They both took out a total of about one hundred changelings combined. Fluttershy and Applejack are working in the shelters to help keep everypony calm and tend any wounded.”
Celestia allowed herself a brief smile. “I’m glad to hear that they’re safe, but we can’t afford to linger here. Since you six seem to have Ponyville in hoof, I’ll finish clearing out what I can in this area, then move on to the Changelings attacking the Santa Maria. It appears the stronger portions of this invasion force can be found there. Given the unique nature of the ship, it would be a travesty, if she fell into Chrysalis’ hooves.”
Another round of lightning bolts discharged from the ship, and Twilight looked at it anxiously. “That one was weaker than the last. Could the storm core be running low on power?”
“A discharge of that magnitude takes a significant amount of energy to accomplish. If they’ve had to strain the core that much, then this force is certainly not one to be underestimated.” Celestia frowned. “Perhaps I should go over there first.”
“It might be better, if you did. I’d rather not be the one who has to explain why one of the new airships was destroyed in combat.”
Celestia chuckled. “Don’t worry, Twilight. The commander will understand.” Then she winced. “Though he might demand payment, if the ship is lost, since it is technically classified as a military vessel. That is something I would rather avoid, if possible. I’ll see you when the battle is over Twilight. Until then, good luck, and Faust protect you.” A blink later, and Celestia was gone.
Twilight spun her focus directly overhead, easily vivisecting the body of a drone, before it slammed into the ground twitching spasmodically. “Time to get to work.”
Changeling infiltrator 00065 remained still, breathing stopped as she tapped her oxygen reserve bladder. She had already sent the path to the rest of her colleagues. Once she’d emerged from her tunnel, she found an empty storeroom, snuck in, and changed from a guard to another guard. She would have to get past the next checkpoint, if she were to succeed in capturing the foals. She smirked, and snuck out, turning a corner, only to have to leap over a black cat with white around her muzzle. It looked at her with unnatural blue eyes. She shuddered, then shook her head, and moved on. The feline was unimportant. The objective was. She nearly jumped out of her disguise, when a deep voice called out to her, and she felt a heavy metal-clad hoof over her shoulder.
“So, the Changelings are invading, and Hammer Strike was nice enough to send a messenger to call me to the field. That’s what I’d call mighty neighborly of him.” A large Pony swathed in heavy duty armor chuckled hollowly from inside his helmet. “It’ll make for quite a story.” The eyes glowed as he clopped by. “Speaking of, this actually reminds me of the time….”
00065 flinched. She had just gotten away from the battle, and the lanterns, and now she was heading back, while this unknown guard in armor was going on about some mutated crab that had been terrorizing his old home off in the western ocean. She hooked the conversation into the hive mind, recording back towards her scribes incase something from this story could be gleaned for knowledge, she suffered in silence, while she let Storyteller speak.
“And that was when a dragon landed to steal the meat from my kill, but that ... is a story for another day,” he finally said as they reached the gates to the courtyard.
Meanwhile, Silent Collector sat on the steps leading into the castle fiddling with one of his throwing knives as he cleaned it with an oil cloth. He raised it into the light, then nodded in satisfaction as the light reflected off the edge. His eyes wandered over the courtyard, focusing on every detail, until the world began to lose color. He continued glancing from individual to individual, until his eyes came across a guard covered in a flaming yellow aura. He shook his head, and before anyone could question him, he prepped and threw the knife towards the guard, specifically aiming for the guard’s eye.
The infiltrator barely had time to register the motion, before the blade embedded itself in her eye. Guards were already rushing to tackle Collector, before shouts in both the courtyard and on the wall drew attention back to the guard, where she burst into green flames, and toppled over dead. Collector reared up, leapt into the air, and spun over the heads of the four guards who’d been trying to tackle him, before landing on the parapets. A magical shield sprung up around his back just in time to deflect the blasts the Unicorns had sent his way. Collector just stood up, and used a hoof to brush his coat free of dust, before turning and giving them a very sure and cocky grin. The slipped away sheepishly, knowing they would face reprimands for their actions.
“Well now, this’ll be a story for the ages, won’t it?” Storyteller commented through his helmet’s vents.
Collector gave a faint chuckle as he leapt back down, and approached the downed changeling. After scanning over the body one last time, he gripped the end of his knife, and removed it, frowning as he now had to clean it again. “Oracle, would you happen to have an idea of where a Changeling could have slipped in?” he asked. Collector stood still for a moment, before nodding to himself. “I’ll check in a moment.”
“Uh, are you … talking to yourself?” a guard asked as they moved to collect the Changeling’s body.
Collector directed the guard to his ear, where a small dark blue and black glowing spot resided. “Communication spell. Oracle isn’t a fighter, so she stays in the back, where it’s safe.”
“H-how did you know?” Clover asked tiredly as she shuffled toward him.
“I have a … particular skill that allows me to see through illusions,” Collector explained with practiced ease. “I’m Silent Collector. A pleasure to meet you, Clover.”
“Yes, a pleasure, indeed, Silent Collector,” Clover said as she looked the stallion over. “I’m sad to say I’ve never heard of you, but I would love a chance to properly interview you when I’m in better condition.”
Collector hummed for a moment, before reaching into his coat, and pulling out a small container. He opened it, and held it out for Clover. “Try one of these. It’s called a chewing soul. It won’t completely revitalize you, but it’ll at least put you in a better condition.”
Clover was too tired to argue. She took the container, and drained it in one shot. She perked up almost immediately. “That's … quite powerful,” she noted.
“I used to study late into the night. I got so exhausted that I couldn’t do anything for my classes during the day. I picked up the recipe from a special source.” he shrugged, then smiled. “I could show you the recipe sometime, though the ingredients are a little hard to come by.”
“I’d appreciate that.” Clover yawned. “But I still need to sleep. Thank you, Silent Collector.”
“My pleasure, Ma’am. Besides, I think Hammer Strike would kill me if I didn’t keep you safe,” he added with a mischievous wink. “I don’t think either of us wants that. Rest well, Miss Clever. We can hold for a while.”
“You’d better,” Clover murmured as she shuffled past the corpse, and into the castle proper. It was time for a rest.
“It’s like watching children playing with a claymore,” one Gryphon commented as he watched the airships currently being used in the battle. “Ma’am, we have the final reports for sustained casualties during the attack.” He turned to Thalia. “Merciful this run. Two dead, and only six sustained any meaningful injuries. We nearly lost the left ballista, but thanks to Clover’s work, we had time to make field repairs.”
Thalia narrowed her gaze as she looked over the paperwork. “And the compound?”
“Untouched, thank the Winds. Why is it whenever the clan leader is gone, this happens?”
“Because Ponyville and the Everfree are well acquainted with Murphy.” She returned the documents to the table. “Clover’s timely assistance did much to harry our enemies. They have thick chiton, but they’re going to be ground-bound, until they can grow their wings back. That means we have the advantage. Once you’ve finished your report on the status of the compound, send a messenger to the leaders of our Pegasus and Thestral units. We need to correlate on a strategy while the Changelings are still harried.”
The soldier saluted. “Yes, Ma’am. We've managed to get the old ones, cubs, and those Gryphonesses not able to fight in the inner chamber, and we’ve made sure to reinforce it this time. The cliff entrances are also sealed. We’re awaiting your permission to release Grif’s beast onto the battlefield.”
“His name is Sylvio, soldier, and you would do well to remember that. He and his pack are just as much a part of this family as you are.”
“With all due respect, Ma’am, I saw what he did to the Changelings last time. Right now, I’m just bucking glad he’s on our side.”
Thalia chuckled. “He takes after his master. Let’s leave Sylvio and his pack in reserve for now. They won’t be able to cross the lava patch, anyways. If you’ve nothing else to report, soldier, I’d like for you to deliver that summons now. This is war, and every second counts.”
The Gryphon thumped a hand to his shoulder. “I’ll take my leave then, Ma’am.” And with that, he took wing.
“Okay. So, I’ve got the spell formula in mind, and I’ve got the magic well in hand–err hoof. I … guess I just need to try pushing it,” Vital said as he passed over the frigid fields and concentrated. “Triplet Maximize Magic: Greater Magical Wall.” The seal appeared, spinning rapidly as energy arced out from his horn. Then it spread out to merge with the air around them, touching the ground between the natural walls and sealing itself in, before disappearing. He shuddered momentarily. “This really does feel different compared to the usual means. Not bad, just … different,” he said as he turned to face Trixie. “Would the lady do us the honor of the next defensive spell?”
“Trixie was thinking something else,” Trixie said as she spun her focus several times, before stabbing it in the ground facing away from the spikes. “Triplet Maximize Magic: Negative Energy Deathzone!” Bright blue and sickly purple energy spread outwards from the point of her staff. Large blue metal spikes shot from the ground all around them, before melting away into a sickly purple liquid, which soaked into the ground.
“Dare I even ask what that one does?”
“Shishkebab,” Trixie said simply.
“Medium rare or well done?” Vital quipped as he nuzzled her.
“I thought you liked them frozen.” she nuzzled back.
“That’s just for preservation,” he teased. “Though that might not be a bad idea for an AOE spell: a series of icicle daggers rising from the ground to impale an enemy. Not a technique I’d like to employ, but it never hurts to have something on hand ... hoof. Did I mention how much I hate having to correct myself?”
Trixie giggled a snorting laugh, then shook her head as she calmed down. “You're not supposed to employ combat magic because you like it.” Then she nuzzled him. “And for the record, Trixie thinks it’s cute.”
Vital blushed, and cleared his throat. “You, uh, make a good point. If I did like those kinds of techniques, then I’d probably be out of Clover’s class faster than you can say supercalifragilisticexpialidocious.”
“... Trixie won’t ask.”
Vital chuckled. “I’m sure you’ll get it eventually. Just remind me to introduce you to a Mary Poppins later.”
Trixie cocked her head. “Is she some kind of Eastern Unicorn?”
“In a sense. You’d have to see her to understand. Let’s just say she knows the secret to making work more enjoyable. It’s one of her greater magical discoveries, and so simple, too,” he added with a wink.
“Trixie should go see how they're doing on the eastern front. She will be back when she can.” She kissed him on the cheek, before vanishing in a flash of light and dark energy.
Vital chuckled as a smile pulled at the edges of his cheeks. He began to whistle a familiar tune as he went about casting the spell again and again across the patches of wall.
It was about sixteen hours later when it began, a heavy thumping and pounding on the edge of the natural wall Ifrit’s lava had congealed into over the ground. The frigid earth groaned in protest as cracks began to appear and spider outwards. The defenders could do little more at the moment than wait with shields at the ready and bows drawn. The enemy would break through soon enough. Still, it was curious why they chipped away at the wall, instead of melting it with magic. Any Unicorn would know the pain such intense and constant impact to the horn would cause. All the same, the sense of dread was nearly palpable as their elemental defense began to crumble away. The captains prepared to release the deadly barrage, when they heard it. As the stones crumbled away, a melody carried through on thousands of thundering voices.
“Brothers of the mine rejoice!....”
Long lines of small, but stout Dwarf ponies began pouring through the newly made hole, each wearing finely crafted battle armor. The diggers struck hard and fiercely at the opening to widen it enough to get the scorpions through. They were nothing compared to the truck-sized mothers Vital Spark had seen in the mines, but they were large in their own right, ranging between a Volkswagen Beetle and a full sized RV. Each was plated in its own armor. Their pincers and stingers were covered in lethal-looking blades. Any questions as to how the dwarves got past the Changelings was answered when one giant scorpion came through still devouring one of the invaders’ corpses. The Ponies sang their anthem with dead seriousness as they marched up to New unity, forming one large column twenty Dwarves wide and twenty deep, with scorpion cavalry dispersed throughout. When the song finished, the Dwarves went silent. Not a one moved, save for a solitary figure who made his way to the wall.
“G’day, forces of the glorious Blue Lard,” he shouted with his brogue through a metal megaphone. “We heard you were havin’ a wee bit of a problem with some uninvited guests, so we figured we’d come help ya explain to them why they should sod the bloody Tartarus off!”
Blast had moved to the front lines, using his magic to keep a shield hovering in front of him. “Then get to work, and start taking out those bugs!” he shouted gruffly. “You pulled casters off the wall to secure this spot.” He turned around as the ground began to shake with the united stampede of hooves. A dark mass began to stir on the horizon. His eyes widened. “By Sleipnir’s beard,” he gasped. Then he whipped back around to address the combined troops. “Keep those bugs off our allies,” he snapped. “And somepony try to get some connection to the Gryphon compound! Mages, back to your posts!”
“Somebody call for pest control?” a voice asked as a wall of Gryphon arrows sank into the dark mass from the sky. A large jaguar-merlin Gryphon landed on the wall in front of Blast.
“While it is good to see you, we need communication channels opened. Get with the Dwarves and guard them. We’re stretched enough as is keeping them off the new wall, and those magic-eating crystal bombs of theirs aren’t making it any easier.”
“We’re already on that,” the Gryphon replied. “Just make sure to have arrows ready for emergency pickup. In bundles of twenty, if possible.”
“You’ll have it.”
“Well then, no point sitting around waiting for their wings to grow back. We’ve got bugs to kill.” The Gryphon jumped back into the air to rejoin his troops. “Just blow the horn, if you need to send a message to us,” he said as he fished into his bag and tossed an old warhorn to Blast. “Someone will come and get it.”
Blast nodded gravely. “Good luck out there.”
“Don’t worry,” the Dwarf shouted to Blast. “We’ll give you all plenty of time to get your skirts on and freshen up.” And with that, he turned to join the charge, laughing all the while.
Avalon glanced back and forth as she looked between the fragment of bloodstone, the map, and the grimoire she’d been studying from the horde of knowledge they’d just raided. “All right, Gilgamesh. If anything goes wrong, I’ll be relying on you to burn the map and crush the bloodstone, understand? That will neutralize the spell and allow me the opportunity to recover.”
“I-I should be able to manage that,” Gilgamesh replied as he twiddled his thumbs.
“You remember what I taught you about accessing your magic?”
Gilgamesh nodded.
“Good. Just focus on flame, instead of the ice you conjured last time, and direct it at the table, if you think it’s necessary.” With that said, Avalon seized her focus by the chain and held it up over the blood stone. “Par la puissance des vents, je vous en supplie. Accorde-moi la vue au delà de la vue. Révéler ce qui nous attend. Montre-moi où je veux aller.” Her hand tensed a moment as a trickle of blood began to run down the chain, over the focus, and down to the amulet’s edge, before gravity performed its inevitable work, and the droplets fell on the stone. The brown and green slowly faded as the stone absorbed the drops and became red as the blood that fell upon it. It glowed and began to move, sliding across the map to land in the middle of the Everfree Forest.
The stone glowed brighter as the blood seeped out over the area. A beam shot up to form a red-tinged projection. Smoke billowed across the image, followed by the flash of steel and the hisses of Changeling and scorpion alike. Blue stones detonated, tearing through Changeling and Pony indiscriminately. Arrows rained down in calculated strikes as the horde of insectoids advanced. “Enough!” Avalon swiped her talons violently through the projection. The light died as she released her grip on her focus’ chain. The bloodstone had lost all color, leaving nothing but a polished white stone in its place. “Caring, did you get all that?”
“It would seem Chrysalis is at it again,” Caring nodded.
“Any chances of kicking our speed up?”
“I’m working on the calculations now, but you may want to warn Grif.”
“Where is he?”
“Last time I tracked him, he was in the mess hall.”
“Of course he was.” Avalon sighed as she turned to Gilgamesh. “Come on. Let’s go get him, before he makes a mess all over himself.”
“Uh, o-okay.” Gilgamesh glanced back to the table. “W-what was that, anyways?”
“A scrying spell. You can see why they weren’t used that often. It’s a one-shot per bloodstone. They’re pretty much just quartz after the spell’s finished.”
“I-I meant, what’s happening?”
“In a word, war. Now come on. We’ve got a Gryphon to wrangle and an entrance strategy to plan.”
Big Guns snorted as he squatted down and heaved yet another boulder for the trebuchet. “You know,” he grunted, “this’d be a lot easier, if we had some Earthbreakers here.”
“Less talking, more loading,” Tall Oak said as he primed the lever.
“I’m just saying.”
“You think I don’t know that?”
“Gonna talk with Hammer Strike about it?”
“Eeyup.”
“Pensword, too?”
“Eeyup.”
“Know anyone who can teach it?”
“Nope.”
“Great,” Big Guns groaned as he watched the trebuchet launch. Then he leaned down to pick up his next boulder. “Remind me to file a complaint with Celestia after.”
Tall Oak chuckled. “Get in line.”
Big Guns couldn’t help but laugh. “Touché. So, how long you betting till Grif shows up to fry the rest of those creeps?”
“Grif will get here when he gets here,” Oak chuckled. “Not the worst scrape I’ve been waiting for him in.”
“Dare I even ask?”
“Imagine half as many Ponies, twice as many Gryphons, and they're not fighting together.”
“That many?” Big Guns raised both brows in surprise, then gave a brief nod of respect to the Earth Pony. “Hard to believe they could outnumber this with how fast that old maggot keeps pumping out those things.”
“Let’s just hope Hammer Strike figures out how to take her out for good soon.”
“I’ll drink to that,” Big Guns agreed as he hauled up another stone and grinned. “So, ready to squash out an infestation?”
Deep in the royal chamber of New Unity Hive, Me-Me sat patiently. Her horn glowed brightly as she did everything she could to organize the actions of her Changelings. In Ponyville, the rust-red Changelings moved in organized groups to escort civilians to safe zones and organize various attacks and strikes. It was far from easy for her, having little experience in such matters, but currently, she was the only one who could.
<Evacuation is proceeding at a rapid pace, my Queen. Bunkers 001 through 005 are completely full. Warding is in progress as we speak, and Princesses Twilight and Celestia have taken to the battlefield together,> one of her captains reported over the link.
<How are our soldiers holding? Better than last time, I hope.>
<No casualties to report as of yet. It would seem that the Gryphons and princesses have the situation well in hoof. If they become hard pressed, should we engage?>
<Yes. Engage as soon as you think it opportune.>
<Understood. Any further commands I should relay to the troops?>
<No shapeshifting. We don’t want to confuse our allies, if we can avoid it.>
<Understood. With your permission, my fellow captains and I would like to try to innovate a means of identification for allies, even when in a separate form. While it won’t be appropriate for this battle, it could prove invaluable in future crises.>
<You have my permission, Captain. Try to keep my children alive out there.>
<Of course, my Queen. Tenna, over and out.>
Me-Me continued to scan the hive mind, getting viewpoints from all over Ponyville and the surrounding area her children were in. Her troops were indeed fighting much better than they had previously. The studies they had made in those strategy books had saved much time, as had their previous reconnaissance on the enemy. She began making notes of other improvements for the soldier strain, completely oblivious to her surroundings.
That was, until Pupa’s scream echoed both through the hive mind and the tunnels <H–help!> She staggered into the chamber and started bashing her head against a rock. <Out. Get out!> Tears poured down the chiton on her cheeks. <L–leave me alone!>
It took a moment for Me-Me to reorient herself, but when she did, she quickly approached the young princess and proceeded to wrap a leg around her, holding her close. <Yes, Mother is out there, but you're perfectly safe here.> She pushed her own mind towards the young ‘Ling. Chrysalis was older and more powerful, but Me-Me was far closer to the foal, and her will quickly overrode Chrysalis’ probes, forcing her out.
<She … she got … she knows. She felt where I am,> Pupa whimpered. <I’ve doomed the hive.> The thought was but a whisper between the two, but the wave of her fear and grief washed out from her like a storm surge as she wailed.
<Don’t worry, little sister. She can’t reach us here,> Me-Me promised as she held Pupa tight. <She’ll have to pass through Hammer Strike and the Dwarves, before she can reach us, and I have contingencies, if she does.> She stroked Pupa’s mane. <Everything will be fine.>
Pupa sniffled and cuddled into her sister’s embrace. Thankfulness radiated from her body, bathing Me-Me in its warm glow.
Me-Me couldn’t help but smile. If Pupa had begun to project emotions like this, then it meant she was progressing as a princess. In time, she would teach the young ‘Ling to control that power. For now, a gentler touch was required. <Don’t worry. We’ll be alright. Mother hasn’t beaten them yet, and she never will.>
While the battle continued to rage in New Unity, Mountainside Falls was making its own mark on history at the grounds of Baron Happy Hooves’ old manor. The old path was worn, but still visible, even if a series of landslides over the years had made the climb difficult. Fortunately, since the majority population at Dream City were winged, they didn’t need to worry about such things. Luna stood decked in her full High Chieftess regalia, while Pensword and Lunar Fang were dressed in their ursa minor robes and armor. Fox Feather wore her newly adopted Fox Clan robes as she stood proudly next to her husband.
Luna cleared her throat as she looked over the crowd of Ponies that had followed them there, and began her address. “While it is officially recognized that Pensword here rules over this land at the Solar Court in Canterlot, we Thestrals have our own traditions and ceremonies to follow. With the new formation of the Lunar Court, it is time that we also recognize Commander Pensword, as he has now returned to take stewardship over these lands once again, after a long absence.”
Nopony said anything as the winds blew through the red, white, blue, and gold petals of the many wild flowers that had grown in over the years. They danced in the breeze, almost as if to welcome Pensword’s return.
Luna stepped forward as she held out two items in her magical grip: a tomahawk, and a hoe. “Do you, Pensword, retake the tools of our kind for hunting, living, defense and building?”
“I do hereby assert and return to my duties over my own home,” Pensword replied humbly as he took the hoe and raised it up, before striking down to dig up a chunk of dirt. “By this gesture, I show I am willing to work in the fields with my own citizens, with those whom I am duty bound to protect.”
He then took the tomahawk and a log was brought by members from the Dream Clan. He approached the log and cut a shallow groove with the tool. He picked up the shavings, and placed them gently on the divet he’d made, before striking flint and steel to ignite the shavings into flame. “With the work and sweat, I lit this fire to show that I will give warmth to those in need. I will use my tools of war to prosper my lands in time of peace, just as the this tomahawk can be used to fight in times of need and to prosper in times of peace.”
Luna smiled. “Then it is done. Let it be known that by the law of the Lunar Courts, High Duke Pensword, commander of Equestria’s armed forces, has claim on these lands, and that these grounds, which once housed a caring and progressive soul, will house one again. For on this patch of land, House Pen’s personal lodge and housing shall be built. May they stand as long as time shall flow, even until the end of days and night.” She slammed the butt of her warhammer against the ground three times, then nodded.
With the ceremony complete, the ponies began to disperse, flying off to their homes to prepare for the celebrations to come that evening. The sun was just beginning to set when a lone Pegasus began to approach. His armor was well polished, and the golden grim glowed with the energy of a thunderbolt. A stormy charcoal crest bristled atop his black steel helmet. Luna and Pensword turned as one to gaze on him as he passed through the meadow without disturbing so much as a petal. Lunar Fang and Fox Feather gasped.
“Commander Hurricane,” Luna replied. “I am touched that thou wouldst dein to let me see thee, after all this time.” She frowned at the slip, but it seemed appropriate. Seeing such an old friend had left her feeling nostalgic.
Hurricane’s expression was grave as he stared the pair down. “I’m afraid there’s no time for pleasantries, Luna. You need to gather your warriors immediately. It’s taking a great deal for me to manifest here in the physical plane, so I must speak quickly. An enemy is assaulting Unity, and you need to get there as soon as possible to bolster their defenses. Celestia is there as well, but she’s rusty. I don’t trust a rusty sword. I trust an untried one even less. Get there as fast as you can.”
He looked to Commander Pensword. “And you, Commander, you will need to use that crown of yours to help Me-Me with her troops. The time for convalescence is over. Time for both of you to go to war.” He turned. “I have things to do elsewhere, but I wasn’t about to let more good soldiers die before their time. Go now, Pensword, and show those invaders what it means to harm the things we hold dear.” He turned aside, and faded with the last light as dusk gave way to night.
Luna and Pensword looked at each other as the stars began to light up the sky. No words were spoken as they leaped into action, flapping their wings as quickly as they could go, while Luna used her magic to raise the moon in perhaps one of its fastest ascents in recorded history. Fox Feather and Lunar Fang strained behind as the four flew with all haste.
“The moment we’re within earshot of the city, I’ll sound the call to arms,” Luna promised. “We should be able to rally the troops within the hour. From there, I’ll perform a three jump trip with the troops to bolster Hammer Strike’s forces. Once the fight is over, you and I need to discuss Commander Hurricane in greater detail. It would seem both Pegasus and Thestral have a new guardian spirit. Arrangements will need to be made.”
Pensword nodded grimly, but his mind was already far from the mountains of his foalhood. His foals were in danger, as were his troops. He looked back to see his own sentiments mirrored in his wives’ faces as they flew through the night. The family, the troops. They wouldn’t be in danger for long. Not if they had anything to say about it.
“So, um … about that date next Tuesday. I was thinking. Could we maybe move it to Wednesday?” Vital Spark asked as he worked the carving utensil to mark the arrow shafts with runes, while Trixie supplied the extra magic to empower them.
“Does Vital Spark have something better to do?” Trixie asked as she worked.
“It’s not that. It’s just … well, it’s kind of a proven fact. Everything seems to go wrong on a Tuesday. Do we really want to risk having that chaos that’s bound to take place affect our time together?”
“As long as you're there, I could care less,” Trixie noted.
Vital Spark chuckled. “I love you.” Then his eyes widened as he realized what he’d just said.
Trixie stopped short for a moment and the shafts she’d ben handling clattered to the table as she looked at him. Tears formed in her eyes. “Trixie loves you, too.”
Vital gulped. “That’s … that’s the first time I’ve ever said that about someone who’s not well … you know.” He chuckled nervously. “Is it, uh … normal for my heart to be beating this fast?”
“Tr–.” She cleared her throat. “That is, I think that's how you know it’s real,” she finished with a blush.
“Then I guess we’d better finish up this battle fast, huh?” Vital said with a hint of a smirk. “After all, the sooner we’re done here, the sooner I can take you out again.”
“Let's get these arrows out there,” Trixie nodded, bundling said arrows up with magic and taking several in her levitation field, literally charging them as she made her way toward the wall.
Vital Spark gaped after her as he carried his own tools behind to keep up the work. “I am so screwed, if I mess this up, aren’t I?” he muttered under his breath. Then he looked heavenward. “Please, don’t let me mess this up.”
“Caring, are the cannons fully integrated?” Grif asked as he checked his armor straps on the bridge.
“They’re still new, but Hammer Strike was able to give me a decent idea for how to control them. I think I can hit anything at about a hundred yards with sufficient accuracy.
Grif nodded. “Adjust thaumic resonance for air.”
“Wouldn’t fire be more effective?”
“In the case of overall damage, yes, but focused air aspect is going to be invisible to anybody who doesn’t know what to look for. Let's see Chrysalis freak out when her Changelings start splitting in half without reason.”
“I’ll make sure it’s prepared, then,” Caring responded with just a hint of smugness. “We should be appearing in Unity’s airspace within the next half hour. It appears the Thestrals have fielded Pensword’s airships to provide support.”
“Figured they would. Any idea what we’re up against?”
“Thanks to the modifications Hammer Strike made to the Gantrithor’s sensory enchantments, I can number between twenty and thirty thousand active non-friendly Changeling signatures in and around Unity.”
Grif let out a low whistle. “Good to know there’ll be plenty to go around. As soon as I disembark, put the ship on lockdown. Don’t let anyone else out, until it’s over.”
“Your wives will object.”
“I know.” He let out a heavy sigh. “Just keep them here, until we have things under control. I’ll fight better knowing they're safe”
“They’re going to kill you.”
“I feel better knowing they’ll get that chance. Now, did that jury rig you walked me through work?”
“Yes. I’ve managed to read the contents of Taze’s iPod from your ‘headphone jack’ through the wiring by modifying it to integrate with the the spell pathways. Every song can be played throughout the ship. “
“”Good.” Grif cracked his knuckles, then his neck. “As soon as we get within earshot, crank all external projection crystals to full, pick a song from the Rev it Up playlist at random, and make sure they can hear it from here to Canterlot.”
“Your lack of sanity is worrisome, sometimes.”
“Who's crazier, the crazy Gryphon or the ship that’s owned by the crazy Gryphon?”
Caring Circlet’s response brought a smile to Grif’s beak, but for the sake of decency, cannot be written here.
Dream City lights flickered to life as the sun set. An emergency mustering ground had been set up just a few blocks away from the museum, and it was filling rapidly with Thestral warriors. While Luna’s personal guard had been small, the Thestrals in Dream City had had over a thousand years to train, grow, and maintain their discipline. A veritable army had amassed at the call of their chieftess and princess.
Luna looked out over the three thousand troops, sighed, and shook her head. “Those among you who are fathers, please go home.” There was some confusion, but the High Chieftess commanded it. The troops began to trickle out. Luna waited patiently for the troops to reform. “Those who are mothers, nursing mares, or with foal at one month to eight months, please return to your homes. I admire your courage, but we must focus on protecting the future of our tribes.” Many a mare grumbled or sighed longingly as they passed through the crowd and back into the streets to journey home. “Those who are cadets, recruits, or less than five years of service, I need thee to defend the walls here, in case the Changelings split forces.” The young split off, forming into smaller units to fulfill the orders.
Of the initial three thousand, only one thousand now remained. “Those who are dating others in the force, form up, and return to your families.” This time the grumbling was more pronounced as the younger mares and stallions filed out.
Luna looked out over what now had become seven hundred troops. “The two hundred troops to my right, report to my airship and load up to give air support over the city.” She looked over the remaining Five hundred, then noticed two familiar mares standing defiantly at the front. She sighed. “Fox Feather, Lunar Fang, your commitment to Pensword is commendable, but we’re about to embark on a long-distance teleportation with five hundred troops. It’ll be hard enough teleporting long distances with that many passengers. I don’t want to risk either of your foals, and I don’t have time to focus on countermeasures to protect them. Report to the Moon’s Throne with the others. She will make all due speed to New Unity. The foals will be out of danger, and knowing our teacher, you should arrive by the time the battle is won.”
“If it weren’t for the urgency of the situation, we’d lodge a formal protest,” Lunar Fang said.
Fox Feather let out a defeated sigh. “But since you put it that way….”
“We’ll go,” they said together. The two mares approached their husband, and each gave him a kiss for luck, before falling back to join the troops marching towards Luna’s ship.
“Now,” Luna said as she turned to address the remaining troops, “it is time to join the battle. We’ll appear in Ponyville, where the magical fields are more stable. Once we’ve formed up ranks and set a proper staging ground, we’ll march on New Unity. I know Thestrals from Dream City to the Caves will be mustering to send reinforcements, once word of this gets out, despite my orders. That means we must be ready for them upon their arrival, whether they aid in the conflict or not.” She furrowed her brow as her horn began to glow. “Now let us depart.” With that, the mustering ground and all its occupants were bathed in gentle blue light. The moon’s rays descended to touch Luna’s magic, granting it a white tint as it bolstered the Alicorn’s strength. Soon the whole square was obscured by the beams. It grew to a bright flash complemented by the tinkle of magic. Then the light faded, and they were gone.
“Trixie, slow down!” Vital’s voice echoed through the castle’s halls as he raced after the pale blue Unicorn. His mane whipped behind him, obscuring Watcher as his tools rattled in his saddle bags. The castle walls and suits of armor blurred past as he tried to keep his focus on his marefriend. “Do you even know where the wood stores are?”
“Trixie knows her way, Vital Spark. Must she remind you there is a war going on?” she asked.
“You think I don’t know that? That’s all the more reason for us not to get separated, especially when it’s Changelings we’re dealing with. Do you want me to suddenly turn into an infiltrator and take you by surprise? And since when did you get so fast? You barely managed to make it up that staircase on the island, and now you’re running like a pride-driven Applejack on steroids. Not that she ever would use those things, mind you, but you get my point!” he said as they reached a sharp turn in the corridors towards a shadowed stairwell.
“You're not an infiltrator, Vital Spark,” Trixie shouted back.
“The point still stands!” He groaned and rolled his eyes. “That mare is going to be the death of me,” he muttered, only to find the world suddenly fading to black. The sound of rapid hoofsteps echoed foggily in his brain as he looked up at a set of sharpened fangs and glowing green eyes.
“Oh, I wouldn’t say that,” a sultry voice chuckled in his ear as he lost all consciousness. Chrysalis sneered over her prey. The other Ponies were all too well trained. Pensword was gone, and Hammer Strike was too powerful to take head on, but this one … this one was in their circle, which meant this one would be able to lead her to Pupa. She picked the limp Unicorn up in her magic and draped him on her back, before her body was engulfed in green flames to reveal a Pegasus Mare with a black coat, big shiny green eyes, and a vicious smirk. A short sword hung at her hip, and hints of deep blue shone in the sea-green of her mane as it jutted through the guardspony helmet. She chuckled to herself as she made her way through the halls to the nearest window and leapt into the air. The Ponies and Gryphons below were too busy fighting to notice one more soldier flying through the castle grounds. With that in mind, she made a beeline for the tallest tower. True, it was farthest from her target, but it would also be the least likely place for troops to begin their search, once that boisterous mare realized her mistake, if she ever realized it.
The room was surprisingly warm, given the age of the structure. Stray pieces of hay and the occasional feather indicated it had likely served as a housing quarters at some point. Still, that would make it suitable enough for her needs. She levitated her captive so he was propped against one of the beams, before securing him in the usual Changeling manner. “Now, then. Wakey wakey.” She sneered as a gentle beam traveled from her horn into his. “I have some questions for you, little Unicorn.”
Vital Spark began to rouse, his eyes tinted a gentle green as his lids began to open.
There was a flash of light, and quite suddenly Chrysalis found herself being knocked off her hooves and assaulted by what appeared to be the mercifully unconscious body of one of her drones being used as a club. Trixie's face was pulled into a complete snarl as she clubbed the Changeling queen again and again.
“You stay away from him!” she shouted as she threw the now broken drone away and fired random blasts at Chrysalis.
Chrysalis snarled in turn. “You give me my daughter!” She sent a barrage of green blasts into the floor at Trixie’s hooves, creating a natural smokescreen as she took to the air. “I haven’t come this far just to be stopped by the likes of you. This colt will lead me to her, and you won’t interfere!” She hissed her rage as she dove down at her target, while a dazed Vital Spark looked sleepily ahead. Chrysalis’ aura still clung to his horn, and he chuckled as he gazed at Trixie. Chrysalis grinned as she felt the surge of love being broadcast back to her. She laughed as she slammed into the mare’s flanks, throwing her off balance, before forcing her down with a hoof. She slammed her free hoof down on the focus that had dropped from the mare’s grasp and smirked in satisfaction as she heard the distinct crack of the structure starting to buckle under the pressure. “Now isn’t this a familiar scene? I put the lovestruck stallion in my control, and the mare can’t do a thing to stop me.” She chuckled. “This is just too good.” She licked her lips as her horn pulsed with the love energy. “Very good, as a matter of fact.”
Trixie reached for her focus with her hooves and barely managed to get a grip on it. She slammed its lower end as hard as she could manage, causing it to stand on end and smack into the Changeling’s face.
Chrysalis recoiled as she stumbled back. “How dare you?” she hissed.
Sparks flew from Trixie’s focus as she rose to her hooves and picked it up. She’d lost her grip in that last charge, and the wood now contained several wide fractures. Light pulsed dangerously from the crystal in intermittent flashes. “Not this time,” she growled. “Trixie has had everything taken from her: her reputation, her career, her dignity, her sanity.” Her magical aura surrounded the staff as she grit her teeth. The strain worsened as she poured her anger into her magic, and the focus snapped under the sheer force of her amplified grip. The higher her anger rose, the stronger her magic became. She had no idea where all this energy was coming from, but she didn’t really care at this point. “Trixie has heard herself being compared to others, to Twilight Sparkle, to you.” More magic overlayed her horn. The ground around her vibrated from the sheer force as an aura began to build around her body.
“Then one thing comes to Trixie. One beautiful, gloriousthing, unspoiled by hate or greed or contempt, given without any price, save the one she’s willing to pay.” In a sudden movement, her aura snapped around the Unicorn, obliterating the aura around his horn and causing Chrysalis to recoil from the feedback. A bright flash of light filled the room, and suddenly Vital Spark was gone.
“No!” Chrysalis cried.
Trixie glared back at the queen. “You will not have him. You will neverhave him. I don’t care what it takes.” Her magic filled the room, covering the two of them in a dome of energy as the glow surrounding her body intensified. Waves of heat warped the air around her as the floor began to smolder. “Trixie doesn’t care if she has to drag your soul into Tartarus herself. She won’t let you hurt Vital Spark or anyone else!”
Chrysalis laughed as she stared Trixie down. “You think that you can stop me? You, a petty mage? After all the love I’ve absorbed, I am a goddess compared to you! And besides,” she said as she grinned slyly. “We both know you don’t have the guts.”
Trixie leaned in, until her horn grated against Chrysalis’. “Try me, bitch.” Her horn intensified once more as she took a deep breath. “QUADRUPLE MAXIMIZE MAGIC: HOLLOW POINT VICTORY!”
And with that utterance, Trixie’s magic went to work seeping directly into her body and converting every atom of it into pure energy. In that instant, heat and force flared as the last of her form was consumed. She detonated, sending the uncontrolled magic lashing violently in all directions.
From the courtyard to the battlefield, everyone was temporarily deafened as the tower was practically vaporized. Gouts of fire and smoke rose from the floor’s remains as stone and tile rained down into the Everfree. Most unicorns experienced a temporary blackout from the sheer magical pressure. Back in Ponyville, Celestia and Twilight staggered at the powerful wave of magic. They looked to the Everfree, the veritable beacon of the explosion clearly visible long before the sound of its detonation reached their ears. Far away in Canterlot, startled nobles looked on the phenomenon in the distance with bewildered wonder. The sound of the detonation was much fainter, but still loud enough to echo along the winds.
The walls of the tower caved in like a set of dominos, dropping down into the lower floors to leave a crumbling pile of rock, stone, mortar, and splintered wood. Even as Ponies raced to the scene, another smaller blast erupted from the pile as Chrysalis emerged from the wreckage with a wild look in her eyes, cackling madly. “She did it. She actually did it. Oh, that mare has balls … well, had them.” She sneered as she gazed down below, catching sight of the prone Unicorn at the tower’s entrance. “What a shame she’s left her little toy all by himself.” She bore her fangs as she spread her translucent wings out. “Easy pickings.”
There was the sound of stone grinding as it moved aside. Dust and gravel shot into the air, obscuring the Changeling queen’s vision and casting a shadow over the ground below. “Oh, Chrysalis, you shouldn’t ever expect things to be thateasy.” The voice was Trixie’s, but at the same time, it wasn’t. Her pitch had been altered, causing her voice to project in a deeper, almost sultry tone.
The dust began to disperse, revealing a pair of flashing sapphire eyes with slitted pupils, like a dragon’s, complete with the sense of utter intimidation. Her mane was still mostly silver, but streaked with waves of darker grey that seemed to dance in the light. Her horn curved upwards, no longer conical in nature. Instead, it formed a single curved knife-like blade. Large powerful feathered wings beat on her back with a serene grace. Her cutie mark no longer featured a wand. Instead, the star sat at the end of a scythe blade. Trixie’s legs had grown from that of a regular Unicorn to long, powerful, graceful limbs. She stood as tall as Luna now. Her throaty chuckle bespoke eagerness and spread a sense of certain doom. “Trixie still has many tricks up her sleeve.”
As the after effects of the explosion dispersed and the troops prepared to resume battle, a familiar dark shape moved into New Unity's airspace. It easily dwarfed the airships the Thestrals were currently using for support. As it passed over the castle, it blocked out the moon completely, casting a shadow in the dark knight. At first, nothing happened, and then, quite suddenly music began to play.
Grif stood at the head of the ship, reared up on his hind paws with his swords crossed over his shoulders. As the lyrics began to play, he let himself drop over the edge and plummet to the ground. Changelings were thrown wide as he impacted. He charged ahead in a blur, shredding through the enemy in wide swaths. Ponies, Gryphons, and Dwarves cheered from behind as their adrenal glands began pumping harder. They charged forward, driven by rage and adrenaline so thick it washed like the tide of music crashing over the battlefield. The troops followed the example of the warrior, cutting a bloody swath through the Changelings ranks. True to form, Grif stood at the head, killing to the tune of the song.
The Changelings broke, or attempted to break. It was difficult to break ranks when your numbers were so big that soldiers stumbled into each other to get away. The battle would later come to be known as the Seven Minutes of Carnage. In a hundred years, the charge would take its place among the stuff of legend. In a thousand years, Ponies would be telling the myth of this fight. But for now, all that the army saw was battle, and all the Changelings felt was fear, fear that was amplified when their back lines were being torn apart by some invisible force. One minute there were fleeing Changelings, the next corpses. With their queen distracted, the limited intelligence of the commanding drones couldn’t cope with the pressure of a mysterious onslaught.
The Equestrian forces pulled back as the song finished, leaving a large bloody line between them and the invading forces. Grif chuckled as he entered the fortifications and clapped Blast Shield on the pauldron. “A little bird told me you colts needed somebody to come here and show you how to fight again.”
“Oh, I don’t know. I’d say we were managing well enough,” Blast countered with a smirk of his own. “Thought you were going to miss out on the fun.”
“Blast, I am the fun.” Grif motioned to the bloody mess over the wall. “I just accidentally turned the tables of this war for you.”
“Yes … accidentally,” Blast deadpanned as he rolled his eyes. “Anyways, you’ll be glad to know the compound is still safe, and we’ve managed to maintain structural integrity, though … we’re not quite sure what’s happening up in the tower. Now that we have a little breathing room, we can send troops up to investigate.”
“I came as quickly as I could. Direct me to Hammer Strike and we’ll work it out.”
“He sent us out ahead.” Blast furrowed his brow. “Come to think of it, I’m surprised he didn’t show up on the front lines.”
“I’ll check on him later. For now, we have a fight to win.” Grif nodded as he turned towards the rest of the troops. “So, any sign of her royal highness yet? If Hammer Strike’s not here, maybe I can kill steal this one.”
A dazed groan sounded as a dirty white Unicorn covered in scrapes shoved his way through the troops. “Grif? Is that you?”
“Vital?” Grif moved forward, shoving guards out of the way. “What happened to you?”
Vital Spark put a hoof to his horn. “Don’t know. Last thing I remember, I was running after Trixie. We were getting more supplies to restock arrows for your archers. Then … I guess I blacked out. That’s … almost a first, I suppose.” He chuckled, then winced. “Headache’s about the same as last time, though.”
“Well that sounds suspicious,” Grif chuckled. “You go get some rest, okay?”
“In a minute,” Vital promised. “Anybody seen Trixie around?”
“Just got here,” Grif noted. “Maybe she had something to do with that explosion.”
“Explosion?”
“You know, the one that happened a few minutes ago? Pretty sure they felt it in Canterlot.”
“I … no, I don’t remember it. Was it sabotage?”
“I wasn’t here for it,” Grif reaffirmed.
“So I’m basically going to be comedic relief again for asking pointless questions you can’t answer?”
“If I had senzu beans, I’d be tossing them at your forehead.”
“I’ll take that as a yes.” Vital sighed. “So, we gonna investigate or stand around here all day?”
“Vital, there’s a war going on. You can play Scooby Doo, if you want, but I can’t leave the front for long.”
“Then I guess I’ll go. Hammer Strike doesn’t like me being on the front line, anyway,” he grumbled, then sighed. “Sorry. Sorry. I’m just frustrated over whatever happened. You get back to the front. I’ll see if I can’t find what happened to Trixie.”
“Good luck,” Grif offered as he turned to confront the re-grouping Changelings. A hint of a smile pulled at his beak. “Pensword is sogoing to lose that bet.”
Meanwhile, above the cloud cover, Trixie and Chrysalis traded blasts at each other, though it was clearly a one-sided fight. Despite her earlier advantage, Chrysalis found herself unable to land anything above a glancing blow on the new Alicorn. Her more damaging blasts were deflected without much more than a flick of the eyes. Meanwhile, Trixie’s blasts had left her with several injuries.
“Why won’t you fall?” Chrysalis snarled as she dove down for another strike, this one directed at Trixie’s barrel.
“Because, Chrysalis, every attack you send at me is shrouded in dark energy. You’re using an element of dark magic to bolster your regular magic, and it is positively delicious,” Trixie purred. “You're a monster, and you’re used to being the only monster on the battlefield. Unfortunately for you, you’re not the princess dark magic-wielding monster here. I am.”
The grin on Trixie’s face turned almost psychotic as her lips pulled back, revealing a mixture of straight incisors and teeth that seemed to be sharpened to points. “And like we Equestrians always say–.” Her horn glowed as she levitated the gem containing half of her focus all the way from the ruined tower below. “Faust.” Magic sheathed the weapon, causing the gem to glow as the magic hardened, forming a long thin shape. “Save.” A long curved magical blade sprouted from the side, crackling with motes of light and dark magic. The weapon moved with Trixie’s will. She swung experimentally a few times, before she held it menacingly towards the Changeling queen. “The princess.”
Trixie struck so fast that Chrysalis didn’t realize she’d moved, until it was over. One moment, the mare was in front of her, the next behind. There was a full second for Chrysalis to wonder what happened, before a burning pain ignited in her neck and the world faded to black. Trixie turned to watch as Chrysalis' body slumped onto the cloud for a minute, before it erupted in sapphire-blue flames and disintegrated. As the neck fully burned away, the Changeling’s head rolled off the side of the cloud and began falling to the castle below. The body soon fell through the clouds as the magic allowing it to stand on the vapor dissipated, but it never made it to earth as the flames reduced it to ash that scattered on the wind. Trixie let the scythe vanish, removed the gem from it’s fitting, and dropped the rest. With her grisly task finished, she glided casually down to the ground below.
Vital Spark had just made it to the base of the tower when his ears twitched. He looked up to see something spinning in the air as it fell. The speck grew larger. Vital Spark remained curious, though he at least had enough sense to step out of the object’s trajectory. A flash of blue and green greeted his eyes, before the object finally smashed into the ground and burst open, spewing green goo like a popped balloon. Vital Spark coughed and gagged at the taste of the substance as it hit his mouth. So busy was he wiping the residue from his face, he didn’t even notice the powerful aura holding the remnants of Chrysalis’ horn less than an inch away from his head.
“Hello, Vital Spark,” a familiar voice called as the distinct sound of magic and the clatter of an object being tossed aside drew his attention. “Tell me, how do I look?”
Vital took a few more seconds to wipe as much of the slime as he could from his eyes, before he finally opened to see what had become of the mare he’d been dating. First they fell on her hooves. Then they rose up, and up, and up. Longer legs, fuller body, a flowing mane that caught in the breeze, oh yeah, and the wings. It took his mind a moment to compute that fact. He then promptly sent it a reboot order to prevent a catastrophic meltdown, temporarily muting his emotions. That lasted for all of about five seconds, before everything came rushing back, and he found himself gaping at her again. “What the hay did I miss?”
“Oh, not a lot,” she said with a mischievous smile as her magic removed the remnants of goop from his coat. It also swam over his body, removing the lingering effects of Chrysalis’ spell and restoring some of his energy. “Chrysalis tried to kidnap you. I attempted a brave sacrifice to save you. Faust apparently had other plans, as you may have noticed,” she said as she lifted a wing. “I killed Chrysalis, and now I’m here with you.” She lifted him off the ground to stare face to face with him. “Do you still love me, Vital Spark?”
Vital blushed. “Trixie, I–.”
“Do you still love me? Yes or no,” she asked more intently.
Vital gulped. “I … think we both know the answer to that.”
“I need to hear you say it,” Trixie insisted.
Vital sighed as he looked heavenward. “Yes, and I mean it sincerely when I say this next part, God help me. I love you, Trixie Lulamoon. You’re prideful, quirky, silly, arrogant, cute, and just … well–.”
She cut him off with a kiss. “Marry me,” she said when she pulled away.
Vital stared ahead, frozen for a few moments as he took the experience in. His body felt warm, his heart pounded, and something deep in his magic seemed almost to break loose. “How’s this for an answer?” he returned as he used his forelegs to pull her muzzle against his own for a kiss. The two’s horns sparked, and then set off a series of magical bursts that detonated just below the cloud layer, lighting up the night with an instinctual passion that had been held back for far too long.
A large sphere filled with moon and starlight expanded from the forest path, pushing the Changelings as they staggered from the loss of their Queen’s directing influence. Pretorians struggled to retain order with the loss of the Queen’s presence in their hive connection. The babble of the drones was difficult to manage as the leaders struggled to take control of the fear and force the ranks to move.
Then five hundred Thestrals appeared in the midst of the confusion, compounding it. Grif had three Changelings flung into his space that he had to cut down as he heard a loud cry of triumph. Princess Luna had officially entered the fray.
The moment the magic had dissipated, Pensword charged at the nearest Changingling, which, thankfully, was not one of Me-Me’s, and one that the other five hundred troops hadn’t gone after. The Thestrals left their chieftess a wide berth as she plowed a path towards the castle. Pensword looked up at the castle walls. Anxiety gripped him as he looked up at pillar of smoke and dust that had replaced one of the towers. Moon River used to hide there. He shuddered, and prayed to any deity that would listen that the foals were safe.
Unfortunately, Pensword didn’t have much time to focus on that. The Changelings had formed ranks, taking a defensive position as they shifted to form a wedge. He frowned at the sight, then noticed how the moonlight glinted off a few stray tufts on the invaders’ backs. Could it be? “High Chieftess, the Changelings’ wings….”
“I noticed it as well, Commander, and the feeling of this magic in the air. It is ancient, powerful. I fear that Clover did something foolish.” She sighed. “Foolish, but effective.”
Pensword frowned. “The battlefield is mostly silent. Where is Hammer Strike, or Sticky Spit? This feels like a mop-up.”
“That may be, but we get to add to our kills nonetheless,” Luna responded with a grin. It didn’t take them long at all to secure the area around the second gate. As they arrived, they heard the heavy detonation of fireworks, and looked up to see the lights flaring overhead.
“Open up for the High Chieftess of all Thestrals, for she has brought five hundred strong for the siege!” Luna called up to the ramparts. No answer came, save for the sound of the gates groaning open to and allowed them entrance. “What is the situation?” Luna demanded of the nearest soldier.
“Something happened a few minutes ago,” Grif shouted. “They’re stunned, though I don’t know how long it will last.”
“Who set off the fireworks?” Pensword asked curiously as the bloodbath continued. “Is Vital somewhere inside the keep, or did you put him on guard duty for once?”
“He had some trouble earlier. I thought he was headed to find Trixie, and then, hopefully, rest. No one's heard from her, apparently, since before the explosion at the tower.”
“Right.” Pensword’s jaw set in a grim line as he turned to address a trio of the free Thestrals. “You three with me. We’ll do a search for Trixie and Vital.” He turned, and bowed apologetically to Luna. “I am sorry, High Chieftess, but I must find my friend. We might have an infestation inside the walls.”
“Take ten, Commander, and go with the moon’s guidance in your search.” Luna dipped her head in benediction.
This proved to be unnecessary, however as the fireworks promptly finished. There was a flash of raspberry-colored light, and then something appeared silhouetted by the moon. It seemed to have the profile of a Pony, but larger and winged. Sapphire draconic eyes shone in contrast to the moon’s silver light. She waited just the perfect amount of time for the Thestrals to stare in awe, before she vanished, then reappeared in front of them. “Nice to see you could make it to the show.”
Luna gaped in shock as her mouth dropped, complete with a magically enhanced noise to sound like a creaking hinge.
Pensword managed to recover first. “What happened here?” he shouted, even as he struggled not to panic at the thought of Trixie being, by all appearances, a nightmare.
“I think it should be obvious.” Trixie grinned. “I finally understood what true power means. No matter how strong you are, if you think only about yourself, you just make yourself less than what you could be. It’s only when you are prepared to sacrifice it all for the sake of those you care for. That’s when you can find true strength. That’s when you know what you can truly do.”
“You have learned, then, Trixie Lulamoon.” Luna nodded, having finally regained her composure. “Though your appearance has some … troubling implications, I can sense the truth behind your words. We will discuss what happens from here at a later time.” The Alicorn shouldered her hammer and turned to the regrouping Changelings. “There are still many to reap.”
Trixie grinned as her focus gem was called to her from an unknown location. Once again, her magic wove around it, forming the scythe. “Then let’s away to the harvest. After all, I have wedding plans to make.” And Trixie charged forward into the battle, decapitating several Changelings with a single swing.
Luna smirked and looked to her thestrals. “What? You think I’m the only goddess of war?” She threw the hammer up, letting it spin several times, before catching it. “CHARGE!” And with a thunder of many hooves, the Thestrals returned to war.
It took a twenty-four hours of long combat and hard pressing, but once again, the Changelings were cut down to the last and the army of New Unity stood, battered and bruised, but victorious. Thanks to better fortifications and tactics, they’d managed to cut the losses down to a hundred souls who wouldn’t be feasting with their allies. Many more were wounded, but few were injured in any way that they couldn’t recover from in time. The Dwarves gathered as many scorpions as they could and released them onto the battlefield to feed on the enemy’s bodies. The carrion eaters took to their task with relish.
Ponyville had likewise been mercifully lucky. No Ponies were harmed, and the shelters had held for the battle. The militia and the Changelings from Me-Me’s hive had held Chrysalis’ forces back proudly, suffering only the loss of forty of their number. However, nearly all of the defenders had some kind of injury, including Twilight Sparkle, who was now being treated for a stab wound on her right hip. One Changeling’s horn had speared right through the plating. The dwarves had gone to collect the remaining enemy bodies for the scorpions back home. Celestia had scoffed at the idea, but it had apparently been approved by Hammer Strike, so she didn’t stop it.
So it was that Celestia and a still-limping Twilight found their way to the courtyard in New Unity. Troops were in relatively good of spirits, given the situation. Many were drinking as they talked about good times they’d had previously with now-dead comrades. Grif had still been unable to find Hammer Strike, so he authorized the opening of the booze supply to the soldiers. Shrial and Avalon were busy giving him an earful, while Gilda took care of the cubs, and a medic attended to wrapping a bandage around Grif’s front leg. Luna sat with a tankard nearby, laughing with a new Alicorn neither Twilight nor Celestia recognized at first.
“So, Grif, how big was the betting pool this time?” Vital Spark asked as he approached the trio. “Avalon, Shrial,” he said, nodding respectfully to each of them as he took a drink from his tankard.
“Thanks for the reminder,” Grif chuckled he rubbed his talons together. “Come on, people. Let’s see the bits!” he called. “I want them lined up like a pretty little chorus line.” His grin was vicious as a chorus of groans filled the air. Shrial, Avalon, Luna, and Gilda each tossed the Gryphon two sacks of bits a piece.
“What?” Celestia asked.
“Trixie ascended to Alicorn, and she and Vital Spark finally got on with the engagement,” Luna explained.
“Oh,” Celestia said, then grimaced as she passed Grif two sacks of bits herself. She actually looked to make sure Twilight wasn’t judging her, only to see Twilight toss a sack onto the pile.
“I still don’t see how you keep doing this, Grif.” Luna shook her head in disbelief.
“Grif just lucky, I guess,” he said in mock broken Equish, getting only a chuckle out of Vital for the reference.
“By the way, you’d better be ready to pay at least half of that to Clover,” Vital noted. “You know how she gets about debts.”
“For the ascension, I owe her maybe a quarter. The engagement? No. She had you two at five years from yesterday.”
“And Trixie?” Vital asked as he quirked an eyebrow.
“I didn’t let her get in. I don’t let anyone get into a betting pool revolving around them. That’s just bad policy.” He chuckled. “Didn’t change the fact she wanted in, though. So, now that you're all here, we’ve got two issues to discuss,” he noted. “Wait, where’s Pensword?”
“Right here,” Pensword said as he alighted on the ground. “Been searching for Moon River and her brothers.” His brow furrowed. “They’ve been AWOL for a day now. The Moon’s Throne arrives tomorrow, and Lunar Fang and Fox Feather are both on board. If I don’t find them before they get here….” Pensword shuddered, blissfully unaware of the shadows that loomed behind him.
They lunged simultaneously, tackling their target to the ground as giggles bombarded his ears. “Ah, the old sneak about to surprise the father trick, eh?” He rolled, and wrapped his forelegs around all four of his foals as he laughed. “Oh, Daddy’s missed you all,” he said as he nuzzled them “I’m so proud of you. Hiding from me like that to show just how much you’ve honed your skills.”
“Well now,” Grif cleared his throat. “Now that we’re all here, we have two pressing matters to cover. It’d probably be prudent to start with the lesser first.”
“You mean the fact Pensword owes you money?” Vital asked.
“Pensword’s been owing me money since we got back from the Third Gryphon War,” Grif chuckled. “No. First off is what the plan is for Trixie here.”
“Luna tests her for Nightmares,” Pensword answered without batting an eye.
“Wouldn’t work,” Clover’s voice cut in as she appeared. “Thanks for leaving me out of this, by the way,” she growled at Grif.
Grif shrugged. “Wasn’t sure. By all reports, you’ve been in a coma-like sleep for the last forty-eight hours or so.”
Clover didn’t deign that comment with a response. “Anyway, Trixie’s magic had already been too infused with dark magic to begin with. Nightmare testing wouldn’t work on her. If she was possessed, there’s a likelihood you’d get a false negative. The fact that she isn’t possessed means you could get a false positive. Too many variables.”
“Better than having a Changeling trying to absorb all your love,” Vital pointed out. “I was thinking about talking setting the wedding date.”
Luna looked to Celestia, who nodded. “We think, given circumstances, it may be best if Trixie’s ascension was held close to the barrel for now,” she noted. “Let the news of the attack wear down a bit, before we spring this on Equestria.”
“Judging by your reactions, I’m going to assume you didn’t think anypony else could ascend to Alicornhood?” Vital asked.
“I needed the assistance of a spell written by Star Swirl himself in order to ascend. Of course we didn’t think it was possible,” Twilight pointed out. “Though, I do have to admit, I’m curious why she looks so … different.”
“And by different, you mean...?” Vital asked.
“Well, there’s her horn’s makeup, the sharpened teeth, and then there’s the fact she’s practically doubled in height.”
“Star Swirl’s formula was based on the assumption a Pony couldn’t ascend naturally, because that was his theory,” Clover put emphasis on the word. “I, and several other mages, all agreed it should be possible to do so naturally, provided the right elements are put into place. For example, a powerful Unicorn ranging on the alpha plus scale, something Trixie here has reached easily. Then there would need to be a greater understanding of an aspect of the universe that is not properly understood. In this case, Trixie’s understanding of sacrifice, and what it means, as well as her understanding of the line between the light and dark magics, and the powers of each. And finally, a powerful unmaking of the Unicorn in a benevolent act.” Clover looked to the new Alicorn. “You used hollow point victory, I assume, given the explosion?”
Trixie looked away bashfully, but nodded. “I ... may have peeked at some of the older scrolls, while helping to clean up.”
Clover nodded. “I would hypothesize that Trixie’s taller stature is due to the longer buildup to her ascension without the aid of an outside source, like the Elements of Harmony. The rest of her changes, I assume, are mutations based on the balanced nature of her dark and light magic.” Clover was almost giddy as she looked into the sky and shook her hoof in the air. “You hear that, you grouchy old fart? I was right!”
“... Why am I not surprised at this reaction?” Vital deadpanned.
“Be that as it may, this is not the time to talk about such things.” Celestia looked to Grif. “And what, pray tell, is the other issue?”
“Him.” Grif pointed ahead between Celestia and Luna at the other end of the fortress. Gilgamesh stood, doing his best to keep out of sight of the crowds, and failing spectacularly.
“Ay caramba!” Luna said in a surprisingly good Spanish accent. “That is, by far, the largest Gryphon I have ever seen!”
“I found him when we arrived at the fort.” He looked both princesses in the eye. “I found him in the evoker fort.”
“That's impossible. The only beings who could enter that fort are you and Hammer Strike. It was sealed with blood magic. Only a very very close relative could get through there.”
“That's what I figured.” Grif whistled, catching the large Gryphon’s attention, then signaled for him to approach. “Celestia, Luna, meet Gilgamesh.”
“H-Hi,” Gilgamesh greeted hesitantly as he moved close to the group.
“This is Princess Celestia and Princess Luna. They rule this country. They’re not going to hurt you, and you can trust them,” Grif offered in a comforting tone.
“S-still not easy,” Gilgamesh muttered as he twiddled his thumbs.
Celestia smiled graciously. “I can understand that perspective very well.” She chuckled. “It took me some time to come out of my own shell when I was a foal. Welcome to our kingdom. Any friend of Grif’s is a friend of ours.” She extended a hoof to shake.
“T-thank you,” Gilgamesh replied as he reached hesitantly and took the hoof in turn.
Clover’s eyes widened, and she leaned in instantly to look at his talons. “They’re … pure alichorn,” she said. Her voice betrayed her bewilderment.
“You mean like our horns?” Vital asked.
“Our horns, Pegasus wing bones, Earth Pony hooves. It’s the element that allows Ponies to use magic directly from their bodies. It’s never been accounted to appear in any other race on Equis,” Clover noted.
“He seems to have some kind of Pony mutation,” Grif explained. “He has hooves on his back legs, but the rest of the leg is a lion’s, and he can … well, Gilgamesh, can you show them what you can do?”
“I-I think I can.” Gilgamesh took a step back from the group and held out his hands. After a few breaths, his hands began to glow, and a small flame began to grow in the air between them. As it grew, the air around it began to pick up, fueling the fire’s growth, until it suddenly extinguished, and he started shrinking back into himself. “S-sorry. I-I’m not used to c-casting.”
“You did great, Gilgamesh,” Grif soothed. He looked to Avalon. “Could you take him to the house? I think we have an empty room he can rest in for now.”
“We can get him there,” Avalon agreed. “But don’t think you’re off the hook just yet, mister.”
Grif looked at Celestia as they left. “Whoever he is, he seems to have had a traumatic experience. He has trouble trusting people, doesn’t remember anything major. A real shy type. The only thing he could give us from his past was this mark.” Grif drew the marking on the ground. “We haven’t found a clan to match it yet. Don’t suppose it means anything to you?”
Celestia furrowed her brow. “It certainly looks familiar, but I can’t quite place where I might have seen it before. What about you, Luna? You made it a point to know each of the Gryphon colors by heart. Do you recognize it?”
Luna shook her head. “If it is a clan crest, it’s a relatively new one.”
“I figured.” Grif nodded. “For the time being, I’ll keep him at the compound. But when we have a chance, I’d like some help looking into this. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to meet up with the search party.” He rose to his paws and headed towards the castle proper.
“Search party?” Vital asked as he watched the Gryphon walk off. “Search for who?”
“I’m wondering the same thing,” Pensword agreed as he nodded sagely.
“You know, you’re looking surprisingly calm for dealing with an alien Gryphon,” Vital noted. “I thought you would’ve freaked out a bit by now.”
“More importantly, though, where is Hammer Strike?” Luna piped up suddenly
Light was the first thing the stallion registered as he opened his eyes to the blue sky above. After a moment, he groaned, raising a tan hoof weakly over his eyes to block the light. He could hardly move. His whole body ached. A gentle breeze washed over him, and the rustling of leaves graced his ears as a large golden oak swayed overhead.
He growled with effort as he forced himself onto his side. His breathing came in labored heaves. Once he felt himself settle, he tried looking out once more, taking in cascading green hills. He just make out a forest of darkened trees in the distance, with only one major road leading into it. Other than that, he didn’t see much abnormality.
He groaned and shifted his hooves to his head. Stabs of pain kept coming in waves as he tried to remember what was going on. The only thing that would come back was the area around him. He couldn’t remember anything about how he got there, what was going on, or anything else for that matter. His thoughts drifted to himself as he opened his eyes, and looked at his hooves once more. His breathing quickened as he became worried. Panic began to settle in. His heart rate picked up the longer he tried to push the memories to come. In the end, his efforts were was met with the same result.
“Wh … what happened?” he rasped.
Pain lanced through his head, and his vision swam. The green hills, the trees, the sky. It all began to blur as a darkness seeped at the edge of his vision and gradually consumed all. His breathing slowed as the world went black and the sound of the wind escaped him. The last thing drifting into his fading consciousness was the sound of heavy hooves crushing the grass.
Extended Holiday Ch 133: Of Stout Hearts and Golden Oaks Act 21
“This … makes no sense at all. He isn’t in the forge, or his office, or the cellar. Are there any other places we could search?” Pensword asked. “This is very much unlike him.”
“He never appeared on the battlefield, either. Last I checked, he would have been the first to go after Chrysalis, once he knew she was here,” Vital noted.
“So, Changelings, Hammer Strike missing, and it’s a Tuesday. Again.” Pensword sighed. “I fear that the death of Chrysalis may have been part of her plans.” He stopped and shook his head. “But that’s impossible. Hammer Strike couldn’t be with her hive. His flames make him untouchable, and he can overpower Chrysalis easily.” He sighed again. “I’m going to retire to my quarters with the foals. Maybe the answer will come to us, if we stop banging our heads against the wall. Also, congratulations on the future wedding, Vital. It seems you’ve gone native, after all.”
“Let’s just hope the folks are understanding about it back home,” Vital chuckled nervously.
“Unfortunately, my own investigation has turned up dry,” Luna said as she joined the pair in the hall. “From all accounts, he’s not been seen since one Silent Collector killed a drone that made it past the lanterns.”
Pensword screeched to a halt. “A Changeling? I’ll have a talk with Me-Me as soon as I can. If the lanterns are losing their effectiveness, perhaps she can develop a solution.” He snorted and shook his mane. “I just don’t like it.” Then his brow furrowed further. “There is another possibility, though it’s one I hate to consider,” he admitted. “What about time travel? It would explain why he’s suddenly disappeared.”
“What is it with him and time?” Luna asked, shaking her head ruefully.
“Maybe.” Luna smirked. Her look seemed almost hopeful. “It might be important, though.”
“It always is important in the past, it seems.”
“From what I understand, your actions in the past are what helped shape our present. Without you three, nothing would be what it is today,” Vital pointed out.
“Only for the Third Gryphon War with Grif and I. I’m still finding Hammer Strike all over history.”
“Speaking of Grif, where is he?” Luna asked.
Grif normally wouldn't be doing this, but seeing as it was literally the only room in the fort that was left unchecked, he made his way to his lord’s bedroom, the room that hardly ever got used, due to Hammer Strike’s insomnia. The Earth Pony was was more likely to nap at his desk or in the forge than this place. Still, as noted, it had been the final place to check.
“Hammer Strike?” he called as he entered.
“Not here. Not here. Not here,” whispered in echoes through the room. “All my fault. Why? Why does it always have to be my fault?” A child’s cry, an angry man’s rant. The two danced one with another.
“Hello?” Grif called as he approached the direction the sound was coming from. “Who’s in here?”
A sniffle came, then a sob. “Figures now he hears me,” the voice complained again, followed by another heavy sniffle. “Wonder if this falls under big sis or big brother?” The voice hiccuped and a dim outline wavered in the corner of the room.
“Hey, kid. Wherever you are, it’s okay. Everything’s gonna be fine. The Changelings are gone.” Grif attempted to comfort the child as he approached.
“So’s Hammer Strike.” Gone was the voice of the child. A deep, rumbling voice had replaced it, not unlike Sombra’s, though it held no malice to it.
“Okay, that’s it. In Njord’s name, reveal yourself, spirit,” Grif said, hoping the one name would be enough.
“M’not a spirit,” the sulky child’s voice returned. Grif heard the flutter of wings. “And I can’t control if you see me or not. Believe me, I’ve tried.”
“Well I can hear you, so lets start there. What are you, and how do you know about Hammer Strike?”
“I am Chance.” The two voices echoed together. “Hammer Strike should have told you about me and my family already.”
“Great. An embodiment,” Grif sighed. “Look, Chance, I need to know where he is.”
Chance sniffled. “You’ll need more than where. Dad was trying to help him lay low for a while. One of my siblings was really mad at him. I came to say goodbye, but … well, I can’t change what I am. Dad just wanted to nudge him forward a little. I … I didn’t mean to. Honest, I didn’t.” The voice had begun to tremble again.
“Easy, kid. Easy. Just tell me what happened. Nobody’s gonna punish you here.”
Two voices, one breathy, one husky, took a stuttering breath. “A-all right. It … went like this….”
Hammer Strike grumbled to himself as he looked through his arsenal. He was preparing for war, and this time he’d make Chrysalis regret it.
“Hey there, Sport,” a familiar voice said as a hoof clapped him on the shoulder.
Hammer Strike sighed, having barely reined in the urge to immediately punch Father Time, due to the sudden interaction. “I hate not being able to hear you guys when you appear,” he muttered. “So, what brings you around? And … why the sudden change of tribe?”
Father time furrowed his brow, his new horn curling in a spiral as it jutted out from his head. Fortunately, the stallion still kept the same sweater vest, shirt, and tie. Even his coat retained the same glossy brown coloration. “I’m Time. I can change sometimes.” He shrugged. “Those foals playing with their Tardie-whatsits say it best. ‘Time can be rewritten.’ My form changes sometimes, but I’m still Father Time.” Then his face scrunched into a frown. “But we're not here to talk about me. Let me be frank, son. We may have hit a bit of a snag.”
“And that snag would be…?”
“Well … Destiny found a loophole,” Father Time sighed. “Since your name’s not in Death’s scrolls, technically, that means you don’t have the same protection anyone in those scrolls does, and she was talking with War. Long story short, she figured out a way to kill you.”
Hammer Strike stared blankly at Father Time. “Well. That’s gonna be interesting to deal with.”
“Yeah. Thing is, this isn’t like most times. If you go out there, you’re going to die,” Father time said bluntly.
“Then what am I supposed to do, sit by, and let everyone else go fight? What kind of leader would I be, if I did that?”
“Oh, the fight’s been decided, believe me. It’s going to be fine.” Father Time shook his head. “You just need to be absent long enough for her to be unable to fulfill what she’s planed.”
Hammer Strike gave a faint growl. “And how are we to go about that?”
“We’re going to send you forward in time three days.”
“And there’s no other way to go about this?”
“We’ve checked a hundred and ninety three other possibilities.”
After a few minutes of pent up silence, Hammer Strike sighed. “Fine. Just ... fine. Go ahead and do it.”
Time nodded. “Okay, then. Just stay perfectly still. This part’s more than a little tricky.” His horn lit up. “Seriously, one small change could send everything topsy turvy.”
“Dad, Sis sent me to ask what’s taking so long!” a child’s voice broke through the air, and Time’s eyes widened.
“Chance, you’re not supposed to be here!” But it was too late. Light flashed, the color of the magic changed, and the forces of time took hold. Hammer Strike vanished in a flash of light. “That’s … not good.”
Chance trembled as he gaped from the empty spot to Time, then back again. “Dad,” he said hoarsely, “… what did I just do?”
“I didn’t mean to, h-honest.” Wet drops specked the ground beneath where the distortion sat, and the longer Grif started, the clearer the image of a young Alicorn foal became. His two sides couldn’t have been any more different, the one sweet and innocent, the other dark and foreboding. Both the feathered and bat wing wrapped around his body as he trembled and sobbed.
“Accidents happen,” Grif told him as he approached. “Do you know when Hammer Strike was sent to?”
“I … I can’t tell you directly. If I do that, Sis’ll find out, and then she’ll try again. All I can do is this.” The embodiment walked up a set of invisible stairs to stand in the air above Grif, and then lowered his horn to touch the Gryphon’s forehead. It glowed with a bright light for a time, and Grif’s head was suddenly assaulted by images: a swaying oak tree, a young green filly with swinging yellow pigtails, timberwolves, and a familiar rainbow-colored apple. Chance cried out as he flew backwards, then dropped to the ground, where he slumped in exhaustion. “That’s the best I can do. If I tried any more, … well, let’s say the longer I try, the worse things go when they turn bad.”
“Hey, I have all I need. There’s a chance. Now I just need to go for it.” He walked over to the foal and patted his head gently. “Hang in there, little guy. Nothing’s decided yet.”
“I know there’s me. That’s why I’m here.” Chance sighed. “Just … just bring him back safely, okay? Dad says he’s too important.”
“Hey, if you know anything about me, you know I won’t let him get away that easily. He’s got to rule this stupid place.”
Chance giggled. “You know, Grif, you might just do it. I’ll be rooting for you,” the foal promised as he started to fade. “Oh, and don’t forget to bring the others!”
“I won’t,” Grif chuckled. “Later, little guy.” With that, Grif left the room and made a beeline for Pensword’s office. It was time to get the gang together.
“You sure he’s gonna be okay, Ma?” The tiny green filly hovered worriedly over the stallion as he lay on the bed. His body had been positively covered with scars.
A set of pale yellow forelegs wrapped around the filly, and she looked up to see her mother’s kindly smile and wavy red hair. “I’m sure he’ll be just fine, m’little sugar apple.” She nuzzled the foal at the base of her two pigtails. “He just needs some time to rest is all. Let him be for now. Your pa’ll be back any minute with those healing herbs of his, and then we can get this Pony right as rain again.”
“I sure hope so,” the filly sighed as she looked back at the stranger.
Said stallion gave a faint groan as he started opening his eyes. “What hit me?” He asked huskilly as he moved a hoof to his head.
The mare started for a moment, the walked up to the stallion’s side. “Fraid we haven’t the foggiest. Can you remember anything about what happened before you collapsed?”
The stallion rubbed his head as he thought to himself, only to shake it, then wince. “No, I don’t.”
“Oh, you poor dear,” the mare tutted. “Are you hungry? We don't have much, but we’ll gladly share what we can.”
“I couldn’t.” He frowned as he continued thinking to himself. It didn’t feel right.
“You most certainly could. We’re not letting you out of that bed, until you’re properly recovered. End of story, mister,” the mare said as her eyes became flinty and she stomped her hoof authoritatively on the floor.
“I….” He looked at her one more time. “Alright,” he sighed. He was too tired to argue, anyways.
“Good. Now my name’s Bobbin Smith.” She motioned to the filly at her side. “This here’s my daughter, Caramel Granny Smith. What’s your name?”
“It’s….” His frown deeped as he furrowed his brow in concentration. “I ... can’t recall.”
Bobbin nodded clinically. “If I had to guess, I’d say you had a pretty good bump on the noggin. I’ve met a few Ponies that’ve been through the same thing. Just take it easy for now. We’re a bit far from a doctor, but we know how to take care of our own. We can talk about payment after you’re feeling a little better.” She turned to the filly. “Caramel, dear, could you go fix up some porridge for our guest?”
Caramel grinned and nodded vigorously. “And how!”
Bobbin chuckled to herself as she watched the filly race off. “She’s such a good girl.”
Pensword was rooting around in a bag as they sat around the combat table. “So, we’re waiting on Grif’s report….” He smirked, offering a sidelong glance at Vital Spark. “How does it feel having a wedding on the horizon?”
Vital Spark blushed violently. “Pensword, you’ve been there. You know what I’m going through right now.”
“Yes, I’ve been there, which means I can help with anything you may be going through, be a guide of sorts, if you want.” He took a drink from his canteen. “Besides, if I’m not giving you advice, you’ll be getting it from all the the other mares and stallions around here. Just watch out for the Pegasi. I think a wedding tradition for them is how much of a prank they can pull off on newly engaged couples.”
“I swear, if Rainbow tries pranking me, I’ll freeze her in an ice block,” Vital growled.
“Oh, I expect that. But I should warn you. Some Pegasi are more subtle. Just be on your guard.” Pensword smiled unsettlingly.
Vital glared at the commander. “Pensword, you do realize Clover has been teaching me all manner of spells, right? And there are so many ways to get back at a Pony without killing them.”
“Yes, which is why I really want you to be warned, and to let it go. Then again, with Trixie, I cannot fathom what will be coming to pass.” He returned to rooting about in the pack as he tossed out a series of items, including a clam shell, some beads on a string, stray wires, and a wad of silly putty, before he crowed in triumph. “Aha!” He pulled out what looked to be a brass candlestick, except for the little glowing crystal that seemed to have been glued there. It changed from red to orange to blue to clear, then yellow, fluctuating regularly as it offered its light, much like a candle would have. He frowned as he pointed a small tool up in the air, looking very silly doing so. “Did anypony else remember how to call the Doctor? Or Dinky? Or any time travelers for that matter? Because frankly, I’m worried I’m doing it wrong. Then again, maybe I’ve got this thing pointed the wrong way.”
“Turn it off, Pensword.” Grif’s voice cut through the room as he entered with Luna flanking him. “We’ve got a lot to talk about.”
“Turn it off? Why?” Pensword put the candlestick onto the table. When he moved his hoof away, it began to cast a series of colored lights over the walls.
“We need to talk. Turn it off,” Grif said bluntly.
Pensword blinked. “I can’t. It was going when I pulled it out, so ... wait. If it was going in the bag, then….” He started banging his head on the table. “Just continue on, Grif, while I try to cope with the fact I was pranked by The Doctor.”
Grif let that pass. He took his seat at the table and tented his talons together as he leaned forward to peer at each of his companions. “So, the good news is we know where Hammer Strike is.”
“Why do I get the feeling there’s a but, however, and/or unfortunately coming on?” Vital asked.
Grif nodded to Luna, who set a book down on a nearby table. She flipped it open to a page on Ponyville’s history. “I have no idea how we all missed this.” He gestured to a sketch labeled Golden Oak. The Pony bore a striking resemblance to Hammer Strike, right down to the missing chunk of ear as he stood in front of a positively titanic oak tree. Its trunk was incredibly wide, practically consuming the background as its leaves framed the equine, granting him more of a dignified appearance.
“Not to rub salt in the wound, but do you mean we all or you all?” Vital asked.
“I mean we all. Pretty sure we’ve all gone through this book before.”
“I just thought it was similar body shape and the like. You know, like how we find folks that look similar to historical figures?” Pensword answered weakly.
“So, judging by the fact this is a history book, and the fact you’re saying we missed this, I’m assuming we have to come up with some sort of rescue plan, which likely includes asking The Doctor for help.”
“We need another method of time travel,” Luna sighed.
“I concur,” Pensword agreed. “Maybe we can find a Delorean?”
“I do not know what this Delorean is,” Luna noted.
“A reference to a movie from back home involving time travel. Picture a Ponyless chariot with four wheels powered by a system that moves it forward or backward with the strength of hundreds of Ponies to reach great speeds on the ground, includes a completely sheltered interior, and is capable of traveling through time, once it reaches exactly eighty-eight miles per hour, provided it has enough energy,” Vital explained.
“That makes no sense. If time travel were so simple, would not every Pegasus be zipping through time with the greatest of ease?”
“That’s why it’s called science fiction, Luna. It’s not supposed to make sense. They just made the rules up to suit the story, and make it appear more scientific than it actually was.”
“Then how would that help us in this situation?”
“I believe Pensword was making a joke. Either that, or more of Matthew’s consciousness is bleeding into the Pensword persona,” Vital shrugged.
“Anyway, we know when and where, and that is where our problem starts,” Grif noted.
“Starts?” Vital raised a questioning brow.
“We are going back in time three hundred years to an Earth Pony time that, by most accounts, had only one not very well respected Unicorn family living there. We are a Gryphon, a Thestral, and a Unicorn,” Grif noted.
“In other words, we’d either need a legitimate excuse to be there or some form of disguise,” Vital concluded. “Glamour spell?”
“You and Luna will have to discuss that,” Grif noted.
“I figure we can come up with something,” Vital agreed. “Worst case scenario, we can use Hammer Strike’s credit with The Doctor to get some device to help.”
“I can help on weather patrols, I guess, so that works for me. Grif, aren't you a monster hunter? That could be your cover story, especially with the Everfree so close by.” Then he looked to Vital. “And no, Vital Spark. I am Pensword, and I am Matthew. We are one and the same.”
“No more split mentality?”
“Yes. No more splits. It was a crutch, a coping mechanism for all the blows I took in the war. After all that trauma defining my life as Pensword, the shock of the older memories had trouble reincorporating. Thankfully, I’m all better now.” Pensword smiled cheerfully. “Perfectly fit for duty.”
“Okay, everybody,” Grif cut in, “get your gear. Make sure everything's covered, and try to get your bits traded for Celestial bits. Luna wasn’t on the coin at the time. I’ll work on getting The Doctor. Meet back at zero eight hundred, okay?”
“I’ll do my best,” Pensword said.
“I’ll see if Clover can’t help me set up a proper list of spells appropriate for the time period,” Vital said. “You want us to pack rations, too?”
“Probably a good idea. Enough for three days, okay?” Grif checked.
“Weapons?”
“Not for you two. I can justify them, and Luna can probably make an identity that would explain it.”
“Wait, no weapons at all?” Pensword balked. “Not even a tomahawk?”
“I’m actually kinda surprised there, too. I thought weapons would be a common thing for a settler Pony to have in new undeveloped lands,” Vital said.
Grif shook his head. “No. Tools that can be used as weapons were common. Weapons themselves were expensive, and rarely worth paying for, unless they were a part of your job.”
“Well, guess that just leaves me with magic and wits,” Vital mused. “Unless I can pull a Gandalf with a focus that’s not so ornate as Watcher.”
“A tomahawk was a tool and a weapon,” Pensword argued.
“Better to make it a hatchet, Pensword. It may be closer to the modern day, but I’m guessing Ponies were still pretty scared of Thestrals back then,” Vital noted.
“But Thestrals use the Tomahawk as a hatchet.”
“Vital’s got it right,” Grif nodded. “Besides, you’re not a Thestral. You’re a Pegasus, for the time being.”
Pensword sighed. “I guess, but it had better be a good hatchet, then. A Hammer Strike hatchet.”
“That might not be the best idea, Pensword. A legitimate Hammer Strike product would probably raise more than a few eyebrows, not to mention paint a target on your back. They’re more common today, but back then, they were worth a fortune for their rarity,” Vital said.
“Understood,” Pensword answered. “Still, I’m going to face a lot of stuff, more than a Gryphon with a writ from the Princesses. I’m a halfbreed. That’s going to put a target on my back from just about everywhere and everyone at once. I doubt I’ll get to keep anything, anyway, once I settle in.”
“If you want, I could see about enchanting your things with a spell to ensure they return to you. That way, no one can get away with stealing from you.”
“We shouldn’t bring anything we’re not going to need. If you want me to keep a weapon for you, Pensword, I will, but let's keep things simple, okay?” Grif asked.
“A tomahawk and a bow,” Pensword agreed.
“Pensword, one or the other. I can’t keep your arrows and my arrows and a bow. I’ll keep the tomahawk for you, though.”
“Thank you.”
“So, am I allowed to bring Watcher, or should I use something simpler?” Vital asked.
“Has Clover taught you to summon it to you?”
“We talking portals or flying to my side when I call it?”
“Can you do either?”
“Not sure about the full range of the application, but the tests in class allowed me to call it to me from across the room, at least. I don’t know what’d happen at a greater distance, but I’m guessing it’ll still come.”
“Then bring it, but keep it hidden, unless you actually need it.”
“You got it, boss. Anybody else coming on the mission?”
Grif shook his head. “It’s going to be hard enough to justify the four of us arriving as coincidence to begin with. Play this close to the chest. Don’t tell anyone who doesn’t need to know. I need to head into Ponyville to get a few things. Any other questions?”
“Nope. I’d say we’re just about set. I’ll see about getting the kitchens to prep those supplies.” Vital gave a quick salute and trotted out the door. “See ya!”
“I shall return to Canterlot and inform Celestia about what’s going on. I’ll be back when necessary.” And then Luna was gone in a flash of light.
“I will see you soon. I’d like to spend what time I have left with my foals, and hopefully my wives, before we depart.” With that said, Pensword took his leave as well.
Grif nodded his approval and began his journey. As he finally made it outside to fly, one thought constantly stabbed at the back of his mind. He reallyhoped he could find what he’d need to pull this off.
Golden Oak, the name given to him from the tree the Smith family had found him next to, as well as his light tan coat and brown mane. He gave a faint smile as he looked to the set of carpentry tools available to him. While he was staying with the family, he determined his talent had to be something involving a type of craftstallion’s hammer. After some trial and error, he was able to figure out his ability to work with wood. His past was still a mystery, but from his appearance, he almost didn’t want to know.
The first time he looked in a mirror, he recoiled at the sight. He looked as though he’d been through Tartarus and back. All he had on him was a blue-and-gold overcoat with incredibly deep pockets, a dress shirt and vest, and a cravat with a small additional lump in the knot that he couldn’t get out. Considering the craftsmanship of the regalia, they thought he might have been a noble of some kind, but the combined factors of scarring and being an Earth Pony made the option highly unlikely.
He shook his head to clear it. There was no time to reminisce. He noted idly how he had a problem of losing himself in thought, then returned to the task at hand. At the moment, he had work to do. He grabbed a few of his tools, then moved towards one of the worktables with a door leaning against it. It was too tall, causing the wood to grind faintly against the doorframe, making it difficult to open and close the door properly.
It didn’t take much work to cut the door down and sand the wood smooth. He hummed to himself as he finished his task, before flipping the door onto his back to carry back to the house. Part of him felt happy to work, to give back to those who had helped him, but another part of him wanted to do more. He was zoned out to the world, a smile on his face, humming a tune as he trotted back up to the house’s entrance. He realigned the door to its hinges, pulled the pins out of his bag, and began the process of putting everything back in order, tapping his hammer to the rhythm of his humming. Thanks to his height and strength, it didn’t take much effort.
Caramel approached with a wooden bucket and a ladle clenched in her teeth. She lowered it to the ground and beamed up at the stallion. “You did a mighty fine job,” she complimented. “Have a drink. Ma figured you’d be needin’ it.”
Golden Oak smiled softly as he took hold of the bucket. “How’s your father doing with the expansion?”
“Oh, everything’s goin’ swell!” Caramel beamed up at him. “Pa’s already got my brothers working the plow to get the soil ready for the seeds. He’s got just about every seed in Equestria in that pouch of his, so even if some of the crops don’t work out, we should still have enough to stay us for the winter.”
“Wish I could help out with that, but … from what we’ve learned, I’m not too good with crops,” he commented, rubbing the back of his neck.
“You’re pretty strong, though,” she pointed out. “Maybe you can help, if we run into some big rocks we need to move?”
“Hopefully,” he smiled. “All right, I should get back to it. Still have to fix a few more doors.”
“Ma should have those new clothes ready for you soon, too,” she promised. “I’ll come by again, when they’re ready. Give us a holler, if’n you need anything, okay?”
Golden Oak smiled as he reached down and ruffled the filly’s mane with a hoof. “Can do.”
“I shouldn’t be surprised you had this on hand, and yet I am,” Grif told Rarity as he moved experimentally in the long black coat, testing it’s fit and mobility. It was made of a more rugged material than he was used to the fashionista using: thick and hardy, designed for long stretches of travel and inclement weather. It had slits in the back for his wings and several dozen more pockets than the average coat would. The only things that weren’t black were the silver buttons she’d sewn on the front, shining like specks of moonlight. “I don’t suppose you had a wide brim black hat to go with it? Possibly a serviceable scarf?”
“Grif, I’m a fashion designer. Of course I have scarves and hats to spare.” Her horn ignited and a series of Pony busts levitated into the room, each bearing their own combination of scarf and hat to choose from. “Take your pick.”
“You know, I’m surprised you carry some of the simpler designs,” the Gryphon admitted as he pulled one of the busts out of the lineup. It held a black leather hat with a wider brim that looked almost looked shingled with the way the stitching criss-crossed, forming neat little rectangles. The hat had a simple brown leather strip ringing it near the base. The scarf was also black, and simplistic in design, so much so that Grif thought for a minute. “Can you put something on the front? Preferably some sort of holy symbol. The denomination shouldn’t matter in this case.”
“First of all, one of the greatest secrets of fashion is taking the simple and making it extravagant,” Rarity pointed out as she levitated the rest of the busts back into their store room. “Those were all born from my Mysterious Mare Do Well design, back when Rainbow had a bit too big of an ego trip. I like to keep a few spares for those customers that like to add an air of mystique to their wardrobe. As for your symbol, I’m not exactly familiar with any, but I’m sure I can find something, if you give me a little time.”
“I have to go see the jeweler next about some amulets, seeing as, surprisingly, Ponyville doesn’t seem to have a Faustian or Sleipnirian church. If I come back in two hours, can you have it ready?” Grif asked, even as he silently thanked the winds he could make his own holy water.
“Assuming I can find the references. I’ll stop by the library. Twilight’s bound to have a volume somewhere in there that I can use.”
“I appreciate it.” Grif waved as he left the shop, a large bag of bits landing next to the mare’s cash register. He didn’t look back or stop, knowing better than to stay for the Unicorn’s reaction. He made his way to Ponyville's jeweler. This time, he could kill two birds with one stone at least. “Sparkler?” he called as he entered the shop, bells chiming behind him.
“Yes, Grif?” Sparkler asked as she stepped from the back room. A jeweler’s lense floated idly in her magic, and her purple mane had been recently brushed to shine in the light from the shop’s window. Her cutie mark seemed almost to glitter as she rose up onto the countertop to address the new customer. “How can I help you today? Getting something for the wives, perhaps? Or do you need help appraising another gem you dug up?”
“First off, do you sell Sleipnirian and/or Faustian amulets, preferably cast in silver, silverite, or sunstone?”
Sparkler frowned. “I’m guessing you need it soon, right? Those are always on special order, but they’re usually made by the holy orders and sold at their places of worship.”
“Just tell me how many bits your boss makes you up the price. I’ve talked with jewelers before, Sparkler, and I’m in a hurry, so I won’t haggle. Just give me the price,” Grif chuckled dryly.
Sparkler nodded meekly. “I thought you’d be in a hurry. The price is a hundred bits normally, but since this is a rush job….”
“200, if he needs it fast!” an older stallion’s voice shouted from the back room. Sparkler’s ear flicked, and she smiled, even as her eye twitched. “He doesn’t know who’s in the room. Of course you’ll get the monster hunting discount.”
“I’ll give you four hundred bits each, if the silver’s been purified to standard, and six, if they’re sunstone,” Grif said as he dropped a large bag of bits on the counter.
Sparkler nodded as she gaped at the sack. “I’ll see if I can get ahold of any priests from Canterlot. Like I said before, we don’t carry holy artifacts here. They may in Gryphonia, but not in Equestria.”
“You’re telling me amulets for an Equestrian faith aren't made in Equestria?”
“They’re made by the holy orders in monasteries or local cathedrals.”
“Can you have them ready before you close tonight?” Grif pressed.
“I’ll do my best. We may need to ask Twilight for help, though, to get the pieces in time.”
“Okay, second problem. Where’s your father? Don’t give me the speech he gave you. The thing he gave Pensword doesn’t even go ding for Winds’ sake! Since when has your father made anything that doesn’t go ding, if he could help it?”
“Oh, the old candlestick prank.” Sparkle sighed. “He should be coming around soon. Trixie just ascended, right? That should draw him back around either tonight or tomorrow, if the records are accurate. You know how it goes. He comes when he’s needed, not when you want him.”
“Tell him Grif’s calling in a Hammer Strike priority favor, okay?”
“Oh, one of those problems, is it? I’ll see what I can do. It’ll have to wait till I’m on break, though. You know how long the number can be to call, and it’s even longer when you have to do the incantations to pass the message through time and space in the first place.”
“If they’re not buying, then get back here and help me with this necklace, Sparkler. I’m not paying you to gab with the customers,” the old stallion snapped.
“Sir,” Grif shouted back, “you’re interfering with royal business. I’ve already paid for what I need, and if you don’t want the guard in here asking why you’re using knock-off Saddle Arabian sand pearls, then kindly shut the buck up!”
The satisfying crash and skitter of metal and gems on the ground carried back, followed by a despairing cry and the desperate scramble of hooves.
Grun turned back to Sparkler, his beak set in a grim line. “Sorry about that. Things are rather tense, after what happened. Look into those amulets for me. If that stallion gives you any trouble about anything else, let me know. I need to see the herbalist and several other people yet, before the shops close. We good?”
“We’re good. I’ll try to make contact on my next break. I can’t make any other guarantees, but I’ll try to get him to give you something you can really use for an emergency.” She chuckled. “Though, if you don’t mind, I might stop by later. I missed that old toy, and I wouldn’t mind paying to get it back.”
Grif chuckled. “You’re a good kid, Sparkler. Say hi to your mother for me.” He gave her a nod. “I seriously hope Roseluck and her sisters have black orchids and blood lilies.” And with that, he left the shop to go to another in a dozen stores on his list.
“Oak!” Caramel called to the first Pony she saw as she darted out from the Everfree. A large handkerchief had been tied around her neck, with several bulges bouncing across her back. “Help!” Quite suddenly, several large figures darted from the trees after the filly. It took Golden Oak a second to make out the large fearsome wooden wolves. The only thing Golden could find at hoof was an axe that had been embedded into a nearby log. He grabbed the tool and yanked it out of the log without a single thought, then galloped out to the filly.
The lead wolf pounced just as Caramel raced by the stallion, and was rewarded by a powerful downward chop that cleaved its head straight off. Without a thought or a show of effort, Golden Oak pulled the axe away and swung it into the underbelly of a second wolf. Next, he used his momentum to turn and buck the next wolf right in the torso, sending it flying as he slammed the axe head into the back of the fourth and jerked towards himself, shredding the creatures body. He was about to check on Caramel when pain lanced through his right front leg as the wolf he’d kicked apart came again, biting into him viciously. Golden Oak slammed the beast to the ground, barely noticing the red trails the beast’s teeth had gouged into his limb, before he brought the axe head down back first on it. He slammed the blunted end like a sledgehammer, striking again and again. First came the growls of defiance. Then came the yelps of pain. Finally, a pitiful whimper of a creature that knew it done bucked up, before slowly fading to silence. With one last savage blow, the metal head snapped off the axe and went flying, leaving the stallion standing over his victim, panting, with the broken handle raised.
“G-Golden Oak?” Caramel asked hesitantly as she watched the stallion apprehensively.
Golden Oak’s chest and shoulders heaved as he breathed deeply. A few moments later, he’d regained full control of himself. “Are … are you all right, Caramel?”
“I–I’m fine, but … your leg. Are you sure you’re okay?”
Golden Oak looked to his foreleg. The blood continued to flow.. “I … I should be fine. Let’s get you inside. Then I’ll get it looked at.” The leg hurt, but he was more worried about getting the young filly as far away from the forest as possible.
“I’m so sorry,” Caramel whispered as she leaned against him, and they passed through the glowing portal together. The whole family stood there with worried faces. A single lamp glowed warmly on the simple wooden table in the kitchen. “I … I just wanted to help the farm.”
“There’s nothing wrong with that,” Oak promised as he lowered his head to nudge her gently. “Did you at least find what you were looking for?”
She reached behind her and withdrew one of the bulges from her handkerchief to reveal a large, glossy apple. It had to be one of the strangest Golden Oak had probably seen. At least, he supposed so. It was lined with every color of the rainbow sweeping downwards at a left angle, and had a stem that reminded him of a lighting bolt. “I call ‘em zap apples.”
“That is … incredibly strange,” Golden Oak commented as he continued examining it. His attention was drawn away temporarily, until another lance of pain passed up his leg. “We’ll talk more about them later. I think your folks want to get this looked at.”
“You bet your britches I do,” Bobbin said as she pulled out a series of jars and tins from the cabinets, along with some fresh white cloth. “We’ll talk about your reckless behavior later, young lady,” she said sternly. Caramel flinched, but nodded her concession, while her mother dribbled an ointment over the wounds and slathered it carefully. Golden Oak hissed. “Sorry. I suppose I should’ve warned you, but then it would’ve just hurt more.”
Golden Oak nodded. “Thank you. Just … let’s try to make this quick.”
Pensword swooped into Golden Oaks library like a marauding whirlwind, raiding it of its many precious volumes, before leaving a hastily scrawled note of apology. He flew home with all speed to study what he could of Ponyville’s history, and see if he could find any mention of them and this Golden Oak. After all, forewarned is forearmed. If he didn’t have any weapons, then he would use the culture to help him. He looked up occasionally to keep an eye on Day Moon as the foal worked on his archery skills. After a grueling examination on the range, the foal had finally been granted authorization to use proper arrows. It made Pensword smile to see Day Moon already clustering so well. “You’re doing great,” he cheered.
“Thanks, Dad,” Day Moon said, before taking a step back and lowering his bow. Then he passed through the line to exit the range and walked over to Pensword. “I know that face. Something’s wrong.” Internally, Pensword cursed the foal’s perceptiveness, though a hint of pride helped sweeten the mix. “What’s got you all worried?”
Pensword and sighed. “I’m sorry, Day Moon, but, being the son of a commander in the military, there will be many times when you see me worried, and I won’t be able to tell you anything, because of security issues. Regrettably, this is one of those times.” Seeing the hurt in the foal’s eyes was painful, but Pensword knew it was necessary. That didn’t change how much he hated keeping his children in the dark, though.
“I understand,” Day Moon nodded gravely. “It’s like when we spoke to the empress, right?”
Pensword nodded. He looked to his current volume, then back to the stack he’d accumulated and had yet to read. He sighed again, then closed the book and laid it on its side.
Day Moon frowned. “Don’t you have to study for whatever’s wrong?”
Pensword shook his head. “That can wait. I should be beside you right now. You still have a lot to learn.” He chuckled as he rose to stand next to the young Thestral. “I really am a silly Pony sometimes, aren’t I?”
“No, Dad,” Day Moon answered as a smirk pulled at his lips. “You’re our silly Uncle, who we just happen to call Dad for now, till we’re older.” Then he stuck out his tongue.
Pensword chuckled as he ruffled Day Moon’s mane.
“Uncle, I’m home!” Cristo’s voice called out into the suite. “I’m just gonna head to my room real quick, and then I’ll be right there!” he called hastily.
Pensword’s ears twitched as he narrowed his gaze suspiciously. “Before you do that, Cristo, could you come here quickly? Your brother and I need you to judge a shooting contest.”
“But Uncle,” Cristo whined.
“Now, Cristo!” the commander snapped.
The air was still for a time, before a barely audible, “Fine,” finally reached Pensword’s ears. A muttering Cristo plodded sullenly into the room. A small pouch lay perfectly balanced on his back, protected by his wings.
“What’s in the pouch?”
Day Moon raised a curious brow. “Those are just his earnings from some bets with the foals in the compound. I think he has two beaks from some of the teenage Gryphons. Why were you so scared about Dad finding out?”
Cristo fixed Day Moon with a glare, before looking nervously at their foster father. Pensword simply shrugged, then nodded. “As long as you use some of those gains to treat your sister to something, I’m fine with it.”
“Fine?” Cristo balked. “But–.”
“Am I a Noble Unicorn who doesn’t come down off his throne to mingle or get his hooves dirty? Brother-in-law excepted, of course.”
“Um … right,” Cristo muttered. “I guess you did lose that bet with Uncle Grif.”
Pensword sighed. “Does everypony know about that?”
“Well, the betting pool was kind of all over New Unity.”
“It’s worries of disapproval that led Luna to forbid contact with most of the parents in the first place. You’re all here to learn how to live as normal Ponies do, so you can relate to them when it’s time to assume your positions in court. A few playful bets from time to time are perfectly healthy for a foal your age. All I have to say to you is have fun with your earnings…” he smirked, then winked “... and go bigger next time.” He smiled as he picked up a bow and fired an arrow, hardly even looking at the target. The shaft landed perfectly in the bullseye, leaving the two foals to gape at his skill. While Matthew had never liked gambling, he enjoyed its strategic value. In many ways, battle was a gamble. Besides, it was a healthy part of soldier and Thestral culture. “By the way, where’s Moon River?”
“Jackpot.” The trio turned as one to see a grinning Moon River sitting on a stool with her trusty toy crossbow at the ready. She fired, and struck her target, just as he father had. The toy dart wiggled from its place on the bullseye as it struggled against the suction cup.
“Well, we have Moon River now.” Pensword smiled with fatherly pride. “How about we go for a little family fun before Daddy has to go back to work, hmm?”
“Jackpot,” Moon River agreed. Her smile was vicious as she prepared her next dart.
Golden Oak hummed to himself as he dragged a knife carefully over a small segment of wood, shaving off a piece. His right foreleg had been wrapped up in a homespun gauze, and while he couldn’t do much for work at the moment, he felt like he needed to do something. He didn’t have anything in particular he wanted to carve, but his hooves kept moving, regardless.
It didn’t take long for the carving to take the shape of an axe, embedded into a log. He gave a small frown as he looked it over, his mind drifting back to the fight once more as he tried to figure out where that reaction had come from. He didn’t even have to think about it. He’d just grabbed the axe and charged forward. He … knew what to do, somehow.
One of Caramel’s older siblings, a stallion with his mother’s red mane and a bright yellow coat, approached bearing the day’s rations. His three-horseshoe cutie mark shone clearly as he strode up to the stump where Oak worked. He preferred to go by Hoss, and that’s what the family called him. “Eat up, Oak,” he said with a weak smile. “And, uh … thanks for saving Caramel.”
“I couldn’t just sit by,” Golden Oak smiled in return. “Thanks,” he finished, placing the carving down on the nearby table.
“Y’know, that’s actually pretty good,” Hoss said with a chuckle. “You sure know how to handle a knife.”
“Only thing I can mess with.” Golden gave a faint chuckle as he held up his hoof. “Keeps me active.”
“Just you wait. Once we get in a good harvest, we’re gonna give you a right proper reward,” Hoss said. “Ma’s pies are some of the best this side of Equestria, and make no mistake.”
Golden Oak smiled fondly. “Can’t wait.”
“So, uh … what kinda wood’s that?”
“Just maple. Why do you ask?”
Hoss shrugged. “No reason. You really must work fast, though. I mean, I can still feel the life in that thing.”
“Don’t see why. I cut down the tree over three weeks ago”
Had Hoss been drinking any water, he would have done a spit take. “Three weeks? That’s not possible!”
“You can ask Caramel. It’s been at least three weeks. I haven’t needed to use the wood much.”
“Then how the hay…?”
Golden Oak shrugged. “I dunno.”
“Hmm … pre-Ponyville. It’ll have to be simple books. The older volumes should probably stay here. Basic dueling should be okay, I suppose. That was an art still practiced back then, after all,” he mused as he levitated the volume in question into his saddle bag. “I’m guessing a book on herbal remedies should be useful. Ponyville used to be mostly wild, after all, and maybe a bestiary. That should prove useful, if we have to go into the Everfree.”
He turned to Aria and ran a hoof under her beak. “Now you be a good girl while I’m gone. Assuming all goes well, it should only be for a little while, not even a day. At least, assuming we have the right incarnation of The Doctor helping us this time.”
Aria chirped questioningly.
“It’s a long story. I’ll see about telling you another time. For now, I should probably stop by Clover’s lab. If we’re really going to go back into the past, then I’ll probably need to have enough reagents to craft some potions and the like. Grif can be the monster hunter, and I can be the white mage. After all, nobody bucks with the white mage,” he said with a smirk.
Aria cocked her head.
“I didn’t expect you to get it. It’s sort of an inside joke. Anyways, I’ll see you later, okay? I’m off to visit the one Pony Grif won’t be mad about me telling about this trip.”
The journey to Clover’s lab was a short one. The guards gave the occasional salute or grunt of acknowledgement, and Vital finally knocked respectfully, before passing through the portal into the vast space that was his teacher’s work room.
“Hey, Clover? We’ve got a Time Turner situation. Think you could spare a few minutes?” he called.
“Reagents are packed and ready on the counter.” She didn’t even look up. “The red pack’s for you. The blue one is the things Grif will need. Don’t tell me the details, and don’t ask how I knew what you needed.”
“Clover, if there’s one thing I know, it's that time is wibbly wobbly and timey wimey. That, and not to question a senior companion to The Doctor who lends her aid.” Vital grabbed the two packs in his magic and nodded respectfully. “We’ll be back, probably at almost the same time we left, but in case we’re not, you know the story to tell everypony, right?”
“I know enough to keep them from panicking, until you return.”
“Just don’t tell Trixie. I’d rather let her know myself, after the fact, seeing as Grif would probably kill me, if I told her before.”
“He’d have to find your body and bring you back first.” Somehow, without looking at him, Clover elicited the same shiver he’d normally given her creepy smile.
“What is it with you and death threats?”
“Death threats have gotten some of the greatest and most impossible things in history done, Vital. Do you honestly think this country was founded on friendship?”
“Considering your narration on events, and your clear saltiness, I’m going to guess not.”
“Let’s just say death threats fused the final wandering pieces into the whole, and leave it at that.”
“At least until some earth-shattering revelation comes down the road, in which case I’ll probably just wonder why you didn’t tell me in the first place, and trust I could handle it.” Vital shrugged. “In short, the norm.” He chuckled, then shook his head. “See you later, Clover. I’ll let you know how things went, assuming you don’t know already, unless you have any parting words of advice?”
“Just be careful,” she offered.
“Will it help, if I promise to come back?”
“Unnecessary. I already know you will.”
“All right,” Bobbin said as she finished sorting through the last of the gold coins from an old leather sack with a drawstring attached, “that’s fifty bits to work with. Not much, but it should be enough to get what we need from the merchant, till we can get a proper harvest in.” She picked up a quill and scrawled out a series of notes. “We’ll need a sack of sugar, some vittles, oh, and some equipment for the winter.” She flipped the parchment over and began a new list, this time with the word Winter written on top.
After looking at the list, Golden Oak hummed aloud. “What about the spare axehead we mentioned? Since … you know, the last one took some damage.”
“Why, I do believe you’re right. Thank you, G–.” Bobbin did a double take as she gaped at the stallion. “Wait one cotton pickin’ minute. You know how to read?”
“... Yes,” Golden Oak commented. “Why do you ask?”
“Oak, honey, do you have any idea how hard it is to find a workpony who can read, let alone write?”
“I … didn’t really think of that,” he hummed to himself. “I wonder who taught me,” he muttered, then shrugged. “I’ll think on that later. I’d better get these supplies, before the trader gets too far.”
“You know the road?”
“Yeah, I’ve got it down.” Golden Oak tapped his head, a smirk on his face. “I’ll try to be quick,” he finished as he reached over to strap down his saddlebags.
“Good. You’ll need to remember to stop by the storage room. Our seeds do better than bits sometimes.”
“Sounds good,” Golden replied as he made his way outside. He needed to travel west, just until he reached the main road, where he then had to head south. If his memory served him correctly, the trader would be traveling the road the opposite way. For some reason, the trader always took that path while he made his rounds between towns. While the Smiths traded with him and his competitors often enough, he couldn’t divert his path to arrive at their homestead every trip. They were kind enough, however, to tell them when they make their rounds.
Golden Oak hummed a tune to himself as he walked and took stock of his inventory. He ensured what they had needed for the bartering, and everything was prepared correctly. He smiled, glancing around himself as he took in the lay of the land. The grassy fields swayed in a gentle breeze, the distant Everfree Forest stood dark and intimidating, and off in the distance, he could see the large golden oak where he’d first been found.
He shrugged as he walked up to the great tree’s trunk and brushed his hoof against the bark affectionately. While the oak served as a reminder of his lack of memory, it came also sparked memories of the Smiths and the kindness they’d shown not only in helping him, but practically adopting him into their family. He sighed ruefully as he looked down up at the sun-dappled grass beneath his hooves. He hoped he could give back to them in some way.
His smile softened as his thoughts drifted to the oak itself. “I wonder what I could do with it….”
Vital Spark stretched forward in the early morning light. The twin packs Clover had prepared lay on either side, and a simple robe and leather smock covered his body as he double checked his saddle bags. “Herbology, check. Basic alchemical practices, check. Magic candles, check. Beakers….” The list went on as he scanned through his inventory. Watcherlaid on his back, and a brief shimmer surrounded it, the only evidence of the glamour that he’d cast to alter its appearance. He sighed as he finished the last of his analysis, including double checking the beaker that held three tiny shards from Aria’s egg shell. “I guess that’s everything,” he muttered as he looked around the courtyard. “Now where are the others?”
“Many greetings, my friend.” The voice had a strange accent to it. It took Vital a minute to realize it was Italian. “My name is Gabriel, from the island of Scarpe de Cavallo.” A large Gryphon landed in front of the Unicorn. He wore a rugged long coat that covered his body, save for his wings down to his tail. The bottom of his face was wrapped in a black scarf with the symbol of the Faustian church embroidered in silver thread on the front. A worn-looking black wide-brimmed hat with a brown leather ring sat atop his head. Plates of blackened boiled leather etched with different symbols and glyphs shone beneath the folds of his coat. Two bandoliers crossed his chest. The one reaching from his left shoulder to his right side held several hand carved wooden stakes: two made of a polished metal that was probably silverite, and one that was tipped with a strange stone point that glowed softly. The other bandolier contained vials and packets of various concoctions. Two knives were sheathed at either side. A bow and quiver sat on his back, along with a katana that had been reworked to have a simple unadorned sheath and blackwood handle. A worn leather pack lay at his side.
“And this is my partner, New Moon.” He gestured as a black furred Earth Pony mare approached wearing a simple traveling cloak and carrying a nondescript mace. Beneath the cloak, Vital could see implications of her bearing a similar garb as Gabriel.
“We are hunters sanctioned by the crown and the holy orders of Equestria to hunt and destroy the evils that walk the earth, be they the kind that present themselves during the day or the damned who hide from the sun. It is good to meet you, my friend. For where are you bound?” The mare had continued her partners speech without much effort.
Vital Spark smiled. “No place in particular. I am merely a humble traveler, seeking to hone his craft. There are those in the higher circles of Canterlot who don’t look so kindly on my work, so I take the road less traveled to gain the knowledge I seek. I hear there are a variety of rare and potent flora in the area. They may prove useful to my work.” He bowed to the pair. “You may call me Yvetal the wise, if you wish, though I simply prefer Yvetal.” He shrugged. “Might I interest you in some of my wares?”
“I am well stocked at the moment, friend.” The Gryphon shook his head. “But if the Everfree is as dangerous as I’ve heard, perhaps I will be in need of you.”
“I believe I might have something of assistance. A certain mage from Canterlot actually asked me to meet a friend of hers here to deliver this package. Since it happened to be on my way, and she helped to smuggle me out of the city, who was I to argue? Perhaps you are this certain friend?” Vital smiled as he levitated the pack over to the Gryphon. “I believe she mentioned something about a crazy old bird and his archaic sidekick.”
“Many thanks. You have no idea how hard it is to get ground wolfsbane this pure outside Canterlot. They don’t let me in the city. No monsters to hunt. I’ve tried to justify the nobility as targets, but Celestia wasn’t having it, so no appreciation for the craft, and, of course, there is the matter of my race. What can you do?” Gabriel shrugged, then put the pack into his own.
A Pegasus alighted on the ground nearby with a frown and weary eyes. “This had better work out,” he muttered. His clothing was tattered and patched. He had a set of dinged-up second hoof cloud enchanted cookware and bedrolls. If anything, he looked like he lived out of his ruck. “Getting sick of this stupid blame game,” he growled. Then he noticed the other three. “Oh, just my luck,” he griped, “a Unicorn, a Gryphon, and an Earth Pony.” He took a breath and stepped forward. “ I humbly ask to pass through. I have a job interview I can’t be late for.”
“Far be it for me to get in your way.” The Unicorn shrugged. “I’m simply waiting for a ride. That, and discussing potential business opportunities.” He grinned. “You wouldn’t happen to find yourself in need of some supplies, now, would you, traveler?”
“Will you be staying nearby? Because I can’t carry much more weight. All I own is on my back.”
“I come and I go.” He shrugged. “I may be staying in the area for a time. It depends on how well I’m received, I suppose.”
“I’ll keep that in mind. Just be warned. You might face some insults.” He flicked a tufted ear unconsciously. “Maybe not as bad as my parents when I was growing up, but you should still be prepared.”
A loud groaning whirr filled the air as the wind kicked up out of nowhere, spinning around a central point that rapidly materialized in the form of a big blue police box. The doors came open, and out popped a raggedy looking Pegasus with a wild brown mane and a prim bowtie over his neck. He held a bowl of custard in one hoof and what appeared to be a breaded stick of some kind in the other. “I’m telling you, Derpy, it’s one of the greatest light shows you’ll ever see. Do you have any idea how rare it is to have a Unicorn ascend into an Alicorn? The sheer amount of magical energies as they converge into a new ley line will make every feather on those pretty little wings of your stand on end. Come on now. Come on, get a move on you sleepy heads.”
A series of prolonged groans echoed from within, which was when the Pegasus finally noticed the four and groaned as he rolled his eyes. “Oh no. Not you lot again.” He sighed, and shook his head. “Hello, Vital Spark.” He proffered the bowl. “Care for some custard?
“Um … no, thank you. I’m … I’m good,” the Unicorn said as he eyed the crumbs that speckled the yellow substance.
“Right, then.” He tossed the bowl back into the box, leading to the sound of shattering glass. Then he clapped his hooves together and rubbed them back and forth. “Let’s get down to business, shall we? What trouble do you need me to get you out of this time? It’s the wife’s 200th anniversary, and I’d prefer to get a proper seat set up for the fireworks.”
“Um … you kind of missed them, Doctor,” Vital sweatdropped.
“Did I?”
“By multiple days.”
“Blast! I knew I should’ve recalibrated the wiggly lever.”
“I’m sure your TARDIS will take you and your wife someplace grand,” Pensword answered. “Just … we need a ride back to the founding of Ponyville.” He smiled sheepishly. “Hammer Strike needs to be picked up … again.”
“There are pears in Ponyville during that time, Doctor. Hammer Strike could be fooled into eating one,” Grif said urgently.
“Grif Grafson! Now there’s an ugly mug I’d never forget. Tell me, how’s Gilda? She ready for her third already?” He dashed out and began to examine Grif’s garb. “Love the new duds, by the way. And did you do something with your crest?”
“Spoilers, Doctor,” Grif said.
“So, a quick pop over to Pre-Ponyville by about … oh, a year or so?” The Doctor shrugged. “I suppose I could manage that. Dinkie does enjoy her zap apple jam. And don’t even get me started on Derpy. The zap apple muffins she bakes are positively out of this world. Did you know they actually managed to stop the great song war of 13,557?”
“Didn’t come to check on the daughter you left with your younger self?” Grif chuckled.
“But we just dropped her off not ten minutes ago,” Derpy answered, poking her head out of the door. “Don’t tell me we’re off course again, Doctor.” Then she smiled widely as she saw the four extra people. “Oh, hi Grif, Vital Spark, Pensword, and….”
“Luna, darling. She’s in disguise,” The Doctor clarified. “Now then, I believe you lot said something about needing transport.”
“That’s correct,” Pensword answered.
“Well, come on, then,” he huffed, then clopped inside. “All of time and space at my hooves, and I’m stuck being a glorified taxi service to the defenders of Equestria,” he muttered as they followed behind.
“You know that the TARDIS wouldn’t have landed you here, unless she thought it was important.”
“You want me to tell Derpy what happened on Xcavar 5?” Grif added in a whisper.
“As I recall, you were the one who shoved me into that particular situation, quite against my will. Now then, moving on!” He flew over to the console and began flicking switches, adjusting levers, and turning various circular valves and devices, before finally pulling one giant lever to cause the heart of the console to sputter to life. “And we’re off. Geronimo!”
“I love the sound of the control console, but I miss the round things,” Pensword sighed.
“There there,” Derpy offered affectionately as she patted his back with a wing. “Muffin?”
“Oooh!” Pensword chirped happily as he snatched the muffin and began to consume the delectable confection. “So, uh, … Doctor, when can I help drive?”
“... Let me get back to you on that one.”
Golden Oak sighed as he traveled back towards the Smiths’ estate. The trip to the trader went well, but it had taken him longer than anticipated. The sun had settled low into the horizon as a cold wind blew over the grassy plain. He was admittedly getting cold, and with some distance to travel, he knew he needed to warm up.
He shivered as he shifted his path to a small patch of trees. He noticed one that was definitely dying. The wood was dry, cracked, and aged. After some effort, he managed to remove enough scraps of wood and bark, then made his way out to a large segment of open ground next to the road to avoid setting fire to the grass.
Thankfully, one of the purchases he’d made were a bunch of matches. After gathering the wood into a small pile, he struck one of the sticks. The match refused to light. He struck it again, and still failed to light it. He groaned to himself and tried a few more times, with each failure leading to mounting frustration. “Damn it, would,” he struck once more, “you,” he struck again, “just light!” he grunted as the match finally burst into flame. He sighed with relief, lowered the match down, and began the slow process of building up the fire. He could make it back in the dark, if it came down to it, but he needed to warm up first, if he wanted to continue onward.
Several minutes later, her heard the sound of someone approaching. The clop of hooves was … off. It sounded like there were too many. “Excuse me, young colt,” a dusty voice called. When Golden Oak looked up, he was confronted by an aged gray stallion wearing a worn brown cloak leaning heavily on a staff, which explained the odd sound of his gait. “May an old traveler share your fire?”
“Certainly.” Golden Oak gave a soft smile and motioned towards the other side.
The stranger nodded gratefully, moving to the proffered location, before sitting down. Oddly enough, his cloak covered him to the point that Golden Oak couldn’t see where it parted. The traveller let out a sigh and nodded. “Feels good to warm these old bones.”
“Might I ask where you’re traveling to at this hour?” Golden Oak questioned. “It’s soon to be night, and the nearest place would be the Smith Orchard, some distance the way you came from.”
“Oh, I am a traveler, my boy. I go here, and I go there. Where the road leads is where I am bound. It’s the way I’ve always been.” He chuckled. “And where are you heading, if I may be so bold?”
“Back to the orchard I mentioned earlier.” He smiled softly. “The family there have been kind enough to give me a place of residence with my … lack of memory.”
“Oh, you’ve lost your past?” the old stallion asked, obviously taking an interest.
“So it seems.” Golden Oak rubbed the back of his head. “I just sort of … woke up underneath a large golden oak.”
“The big tree over yonder?” the stallion gestured with his staff.
“Yes.” Golden Oak gave a faint chuckle. “With my lack of memory, I was named after the tree by the Smiths, until I can remember.”
“Well, miraculous things begin under ancestor trees,” the old stallion chuckled, “and that is one of the last remaining ones in this world.”
“Truly?” Golden Oak looked over to the tree. “Are you certain?”
The stallion nodded. “When you’ve walked the earth as long as I have, you learn many fantastic things, my boy.”
“One day,” Golden Oak smiled gently.
“Perhaps,” the stallion chuckled. “I’m afraid I don’t have much to offer in the way of payment, but please take these.” The old stallion reached into his cloak and produced a pair of horseshoes. They were ancient-looking with a higher back that seemed like it was meant to cover the back of the hoof, unlike the pair Oak had stumbled across when helping clean up the house he and the Smiths shared. They were rusty and unimpressive, but there was a strange feel to them, a pulse the scarred Earth Pony couldn’t quite identify.
“It’s perfectly alr–.” Golden Oak looked up to where the stallion once sat, only to find empty space. After surveying his surroundings, he determined that the older stallion was, somehow, already long gone. The place where the stallion sat showed several hoof prints that had been scattered about in the dirt, as though he were moving his hooves to different positions.
He looked down to the horseshoes once more, before letting a small smile pass. He’d have to try them out when he got home. After all, there was no reason to let them go to waste. After a few more minutes by the fire, he sighed, stood, and prepared to make his way back to the little farmstead he and the Smiths had built together. The sun had drifted far below the horizon, and the moon blanketed the plains with a soft glow. Half an hour passed swiftly. By the time he had arrived, Caramel had already been put to bed, and Seeder Smith was preparing to lock up for the night. Oak smiled as he entered the house, letting the warmth soak in, while he put everything away, and returned the extra bits to Seeder. Then, after bidding him good night, Golden Oak made his way back to his room.
Before he could even sit to rest, his own curiosity drove him to try on the horseshoes, whether to check the size or see how sturdy they were, he couldn’t tell for certain. So, he followed the urge and slipped them on. He’d have to fit them correctly in the morning, but as he placed them onto his back hooves, he couldn’t help but notice how well they fit. Almost perfectly, in fact. That was, until he started to feel a faint pain from his hooves. He sighed to himself, knowing that the material was probably rougher than he’d noticed initially. Either that or he was just aching from the long journey. He reached down, grabbed hold of the horseshoes, and pulled them off.
At least, he attempted to.
The horseshoes were firmly attached, despite the fact he had not properly put them on or nailed them in. As he stared at them, the rust slowly began to clear away, revealing a polished bronze underneath. While he determined that he should be worried, for some reason, he couldn’t bring himself to feel it. Despite being firmly attached by uncertain means, they didn’t feel like they were harmful in any way. He almost felt content to have them. He shrugged and laid back on his bed. He could worry about them later.
Golden Oak rubbed the side of his head in thought. It had been nearly five years since he’d been taken in by the Smiths, and now he was finally being put to true work. The zap apple trees were very unique in their times to be harvested, but they were worth the wait. They were perfect for plenty of baked goods, but the most popular was little Caramel’s zap apple jam. Ponies would travel a great distance to have some, and soon the foundations of a town were underway. With this, the need for a carpenter grew substantially, resulting in plenty of work for Golden Oak. The one frustrating problem was that, after completing the project, he would have to travel some distance carrying whatever thing he’d made to where the town was under construction. Sure, the additional revenue was good. He paid for the wood he was using, and was even able to give an honest rent to the Smiths, but the time needed to travel for just delivering one or two pieces out of a set of ten that had to be brought wasn’t fun.
Perhaps it was time for him to set up a proper shop for himself. It would take some time to dig the foundation, and he would need a place to store everything, so either a small storehouse or maybe a few more levels for extra storage. There was also the part of a proper residence. That was going to be an entirely different project.
He hummed aloud and shifted his posture, leaning onto the table to prop himself up with his foreleg. “I could just put it all in one building,” he thought aloud.
“Put what in one building?”
Golden Oak flinched. “Huh? Oh, Caramel. Sorry, I’m just thinking aloud. What brings you here?”
Caramel shrugged. “Got bored. Figured a walk’d do me some good, what with the harvest bein’ over.”
“Give it a little bit. Soon you’ll be back to work and wishing you had more free time.” Golden Oak gave a soft laugh. “Ah, but you’ll have more to do, and more Ponies to interact with soon enough, with Ponyville under construction.”
“Not many foals to play with, though,” she frowned. “Honestly, you’re the most fun that ever happened to me, Oak. Everything’s just more … interesting when you’re around, you know?”
“How so? I honestly feel like I’ve just been following along without much change,” he hummed questioningly. “Well, besides the occasional deal from the Everfree….”
“And a weird old stallion who wants to give you horseshoes?”
Golden Oak rubbed the back of his head. “Yeah, but I mean, at least they weren’t harmful, just ... sort of there.” He looked to the horseshoes still stuck to his back hooves. “They’re odd, to be honest. I feel more in tune with everything, ever since I put them on.”
“At least they look nice with that there coat of yours.”
Golden Oak chuckled. “Imagine if they ended up looking like rose gold or something. It would certainly stand out more.”
Caramel stuck her tongue out in disgust. “Pink ain’t exactly your color.”
Golden Oak smiled. “It could have been much worse, but I’d say these turned out pretty alright.” His smile softened. “All right, Caramel. I’ve got to get back to work on the next few frames. Got to have them delivered by tonight, and I’m burning daylight.”
“Want some help?”
“I should be able to get this done pretty quickly. Plus, last I remember, didn’t Bobbin want you to help with dinner tonight?”
Caramel laughed nervously. “Um … maybe?”
“Get going, then,” Golden Oak chuckled. “Wouldn’t want her getting upset, would ya?”
Caramel sighed. “No.” Then she perked up again. “I’ll bring something back for you!”
Golden Oak smiled. “That’d be nice. Thanks.”
He sighed softly as she left, his mind drifting back to his work. There was plenty to do, and not too much time left. If he could just get a good amount of wood, he could easily work on a place set up in town. He chuckled softly as he thought to the large golden oak. If he was willing to destroy it, it would supply him with plenty. Heck, with it’s scale, he could easily just carve out a place … to live.
After several months of careful work, Golden Oak found his way to ensure that the wood he worked on would remain alive. With it, he had slowly carved out the large golden oak to give himself a place to work and stay that was inside the city. While he was uncertain on if it was right for him to do it, it helped that he learned that the residents were planning on cutting down the tree for supplies, anyways.
He smiled happily as he looked to the tree once more. It wasn’t just a landmark, nor was it just the start of his life, it was now home. He walked inside, flipping a sign on the outside of the front door to OPEN. The inside was simple: a few tables, a counter, some tools he purchased from the Smiths, and stairs leading both to a basement for storage and upper floors for his bedroom, bathroom, and spare bedroom.
The best part was that the tree was still alive.
Sure, he still had plenty of room to expand, but he didn’t have much reason to at the moment. Right now, he wanted to finally get to work for the town to help it expand. Of course, there were some side projects he wanted to work on, like a gift for the Smith family. After everything they gave him, he knew that he wanted to give something back to them, no matter what.
While there were plenty of things he could make for them, nothing really felt right. Most of the wood-based things he could make weren’t in that high of demand, considering he’d already worked tirelessly on their house and ensuring it was structurally sound. There was a few things he could make that were … outside of the norm. With the resilience of living wood, there were many new possibilities. Perhaps a sort of mark for the Smith family and their progression into apple farmers, or perhaps something to help with the defense of the homestead.
While the orchard was relatively safe, every once in awhile, something would come from the forest edge to investigate the fields or followed the scents of ponies. It wasn’t the safest location, but it wasn’t terrible at the same time.
“What about a living wood … weapon?” Golden Oak hummed to himself as he started thinking out loud once again. He frowned as he thought more on it. “It wouldn’t be too complicated, a blunt weapon of some kind….” He shook his head. He’d have to think on it more later. His ear twitched as he turned towards the door to his shop. He could swear he heard hoofsteps, but….
The door slammed open to reveal a grinning Stinking Rich. “Golden Oak, I can’t thank you enough for all the help you’ve given me lately. That stand has been selling zap apple jam faster than the Smiths can make it!” He trotted forward, seized Golden Oak’s hoof between his own hooves, and shook vigorously.
“Hello, Mr. Rich. What brings you around?” Golden Oak asked with a small smile.
“Well, I know you’re backlogged, but I wanted to at least get a professional’s opinion.” He pulled out a large parchment and rolled it out in his hooves’ grip. “What with all the traffic we’ve got coming in, I figure if I were to open a proper store, we might be able to provide some real goods to the rest of the good Ponyfolk here. I just wanna know if these plans are viable. I’m not exactly the sharpest tool in the chest when it comes to construction.”
Golden Oak examined the plans for a few minutes, before finally pointing towards one of the open spaces. “Might need to include something for structural integrity there. A support beam should do the trick. Other than that, unless you receive poor quality wood or other materials, it should be good.”
“Oak, you’re a lifesaver.”
“If you need anything else, feel free to ask. With me being in town, it’s been easier and quicker to get everything built and delivered.”
Rich chuckled. “The rate you’re going, I wouldn’t be surprised if you made mayor before long.”
Golden Oak returned the laugh. “No, thank you. I’m content where I am.”
“You’ve got the magic touch, Oak. Don’t you ever lose it,” Rich said by way of farewell as he waved, then left behind a jar of zap apple jam to add to the carpenter’s stores.
Golden Oak smiled as he moved the jar to his room for storage. It was at this moment that he realized he probably should carve out a kitchen area.
He shook his head as he moved back downstairs, his mind drifting back towards what he could make for the Smith family. The blunt weapon idea stuck in his mind, so he rolled with it. The more he thought on it, the more he started thinking about the shape of weapon that could work with an apple incorporated into it somehow.
“A club of some kind? No, that wouldn’t work. If I’m going to make something like that, it’d need to work with the shape, like a hammer of some kind,” he hummed aloud before nodding to himself. “Perhaps … a war hammer?”
Golden Oak hummed a tune to himself as he carefully pulled a knife across the surface of wood in front of him. At the moment he was replicating an older style of work, the figure resembling the head of a horse. He was uncertain as to why, but with the town being settled, he was finding himself with more free time as the days went by.
It had been nearly fifteen years since the founding of Ponyville, and about seventeen since his awakening. To this day, he still had no recollection of his past, but he didn’t really mind. Sure, there was a day or two where he would wonder, thinking to himself for hours on end as to what his past could possibly be. It was almost a sort of routine now.
The Smith family would come by once in awhile to visit, when they had the off time between harvests. The Rich family ran a successful shop, keeping the town a noteworthy spot to stop and giving other businesses trade as well. Heck, a traveler would sometimes stop by for a quick carving or a frame to something, so even Oak got business from the traffic.
He placed the knife down, before stretching. The project wasn’t complete, but he could continue it later. After a quick trip to the restroom, he stopped to look at his reflection in the mirror. Sure, it had been seventeen years, but the years didn’t really show. He looked almost the same as when he woke up, right down to the specifications for his beard.
“Growing older at the same rate as a tree, huh?” he questioned his reflection softly, before chuckling to himself. He shook his head, heading for the door. He was running low on lumber, and needed to resupply. He stepped outside, flipping the sign behind him to CLOSED as he looked out to the town, a faint wind catching through the road. His ear twitched as a noise traveled with the wind. He’d almost call it a groan.
Several miles away from Ponyville, on the edge of a large forest, a strange blue box materialized out of nothing with a whirring groan and a final thump. The doors creaked open, and a snappy, playful voice called out, “All right, boys and girls, here we are. Ponyville! Some twenty years or so after its founding, if I’m not mistaken. Of course, you’ll have to walk there, but I suspect that’s what you all hoped for, anyways.” A tan pegasus in a bowtie stepped out from the box, then motioned out into the clearing. “Everypony off!”
“Gratsie, Doctor,” Gabriel said as he and New Moon stepped out of the box.
“Thank you for the ride. I’ll pay you back later. If I get paid, that is,” the half breed, who’d later introduced himself as Feather Blade, replied.
“Indeed. It’s been a great pleasure to see the TARDIS again,” Yvetal said as he stepped off. “Do make sure to spoil the missus. After all, the two of you still have quite the future ahead of you,” he added as he winked mischievously at the Pegasus.
“We’ll circle around a bit to the west and enter from that way, just to make us seem less conspicuous,” Gabriel noted.
“Mind you don’t make any paradoxes. You know how much I hate cleaning up after those, especiallyon my anniversary.”
“We’re just here for a pickup, Doctor. By the way, did you give Gabriel the means to call you again, once we’re ready to depart?”
The Doctor rolled his eyes. “Yes, yes. Now do us all a favor and get going! Go on, shoo!” he said as he motioned dramatically with his wings. “We’ll pick you kids up again in a few hours. Or a few days. Might be days. Yeah, let’s just settle with we’ll pick you up.”
Yvetal chuckled and shook his head. “As you say, Doctor. Farewell.” The Unicorn saluted the stallion as he retreated into the box, and the groaning whirr started again, before the strange structure disappeared entirely, leaving the party completely alone by the woods.
“Everybody has their stories straight, and there rations?” Gabriel asked, looking at each.
“And enough bits to last, until we can find some proper employment,” Yvetal assured the Gryphon.
“I’ll do the best I can. I’m writing off half my stores stolen or demanded as tax or tribute to the Weather Captain, what with being a Gypsy risk.”
Yvetal winced. “Then I guess we’re all set. Until our first meeting, gentleponies, m’lady,” he said as he nodded briefly, then started trotting towards town.
The fall air was cool, but not quite enough to be considered brisk as the dusty Unicorn made his way into the town. He looked to either side, noting the many smaller buildings and tents that lined the old worn road. Wagon ruts and hoof marks indicated the heavy traffic that flowed through the area. The scent of fresh apples, squash, and various other vegetables wafted through his nose, and he sighed in relief as a hint of a smile pulled up his lips. He nodded in greeting to the many Ponies, though most seemed almost wary as they eyed his horn. He continued, regardless, until he came up on a two-story building that was taller and broader than its fellows. A large sign on the front read Happy Trails. He passed through the heavy wooden doors into a large parlor room lined with tables and a piano in a corner, where a Pony was currently playing out a jaunty tune. Yvetal pressed on to the bar counter, where a surly-looking Earth Pony mare with a royal purple coat and a poofy dress glared across the way at him.
“What’cha want?” she snapped. “You going to make trouble for our guests, ‘cause our beds are too hard?”
“Well that’s a fine greeting for a trader,” Yvetal said as he shook his head. “I’m new to these parts. Just got in a little while ago. Was wondering if I might have a room for a while. Don’t know how long I’ll be staying.” He shrugged. “It depends how long my research takes me.”
“You say you’re trader here for research?” She eyed the stallion skeptically as she looked over his saddlebags. Then she stroked her chin thoughtfully, before finally smacking her hoof down on her counter as she came to her decision. “Five bits a night for you. Take it or leave it. Talk to the mayor tomorrow, if you want to sell anything in the market.”
“Office hours?”
“Don’t know. Don’t need to go see the mayor too often. Check with the staff after eight, I guess. We all close from noon to one for lunch.”
“Good to know.” The Unicorn lit up his horn and levitated the bits out of one of his saddlebags, being careful not to reveal how much he may have had. Then he laid them on the table. “You folks provide meals, or do I need to go buy elsewhere?”
“A bit extra, if you want to eat here. Cheapest rate you’ll find anywhere, to tell the truth.”
“Any cider?”
She gave a sharp, barking sort of laugh. “You think we have enough surplus to make cider? That comes later in the year, if at all.”
The Unicorn shrugged. “Just thought I’d check. Thanks. So, uh, how do things work in this place? Do I get a room key, do you show me to the room, or do I just show myself? A lot of the inns I’ve been to have different policies.”
“You take this key.” She gave him a tarnished key with a metallic tag that had been carefully engraved. “Find the number that corresponds to it. If you want to stay longer, pay each morning. I get up early, so don’t think about trying to skip out,” she growled warningly.
The Unicorn shook his head. “Wouldn’t dream of it. By the way, you don’t mind if I set up some of my equipment in my room, do you?”
“That’ll cost you extra. I don’t need my inn blowing up.”
“As long as Ponies don’t go trying to steal my ingredients, that shouldn’t happen,” he promised a bit more loudly. “How much?”
“Two bits extra, unless, of course, you can convince me to drop it to a bit or less,” she shot back, her lips twitching ever so slightly.
The Unicorn stared flatly back at her as he proffered the two extra bits. “Thank you for the room.” He turned and made his way for the stairs without another word.
Much as expected, Gabriel and New Moon did not receive a warm welcome, upon entering the town. Many sent glares their way. Some who were not so brave merely directed their foals away from the pair as quickly as they could. While their job was important, monster hunters generally lived on the borders of any civilization. Some believed their presence attracted the very monsters they hunted, and so their sudden appearance was a sign of ill omen. The fact that one was a Gryphon in a town composed of Earth Ponies didn’t ease things.
Still, nopony was brave enough to tell them to leave. Having a monster hunter appear was bad, but spurning a monster hunter could be worse. Word could spread quickly, and there was already talk of towns that had vanished in the attack of some beast, after sending away the closest hunter. So it was with begrudging acceptance that the population of the town did their best to go about their business and ignore him.
“Excuse me, friend,” Gabriel said in his Bitalian accent as he tried to talk to one of the locals, “could you please direct us to the Pony in charge?”
A familiar face turned to address him. Hammer Strike stood before him, hitched to a cart full of lumber. “Sure.” He gave a small smile as he turned to get his bearings. “Let me see. We’re currently in the western end of town. If you follow this road and head left past the large golden oak, it’ll be a larger building just down the road on your left. It’s an inn and tavern of sorts.” He looked back towards the Gryphon. “I could show you, if you’d like. My shop is on the way.”
Gabriel blinked a few times, then narrowed his gaze. “You look familiar, sir. Have we met before?”
The Earth Pony blinked a few times, before rubbing at his jaw. “I … don’t think so.” He frowned. “Unless we met sometime over seventeen years ago.” His frown deepened. “I’m sorry. If we did, I have no memory of before then.”
“You suffer from amnesia?” the Gryphon shook his head. “A pity. I thank you for your help. May you be safe in the dark.”
“Uh,” he scratched at his head, “no problem...?”
“Perhaps an infusion of lavender and wolfsbane would help with your troubles,” New Moon offered.
“The likelyhood of me finding those is rather low.” He shrugged. “I’ll make a note of it, though. Anything is worth trying.” He smiled once again. “Sorry, but I’ve got to get back to my shop. I’ve got a request for a new table that needs to be completed tonight. Apparently, one of the guests at the Happy Trails had a bit too much to drink,” he muttered. “Perhaps I’ll see you both around?”
“I think so. We may be here for quite a while.” The Gryphon nodded, the two waved the stallion goodbye, and they headed off in the direction he’d pointed to them. “Not good,” he whispered to New Moon.
“It seems things are trickier than we thought,” she agreed.
“Let’s find the others.”
Feather Blade sat in the windowless room as he waited for the weather master to enter. Much to the half-breed’s surprise, only fifteen Pegasi controlled the entire area’s weather. That proved worrisome. In the present, with all the chaotic weather coming out of the Everfree, it had taken at least twenty five weather Ponies to handle the load. Without experienced hooves and a lot of hard work, it would be far too easy for a rogue storm to throw everything off balance. On top of this, the lack of any form of opening in the cloud left him feeling cramped and claustrophobic as he squirmed on his cushion.
The door opened as an older pegasus stallion entered the room, he had a pale yellow coat and a grey mane. His eyes settled onto Feather Blade as he let out a soft huff. “Color me surprised. I expected somepony in your horseshoes to have left already.”
“I want the job. I know how to wait, when it’s necessary,” Feather Blade responded in a neutral, matter-of-fact tone. The cheerfulness in the eyes could not be hid, however.
The older stallion rolled his eyes as he pulled out some parchment. “Yeah. So you’re here for the open position on the weather team?”
“Well, it appears you have fifteen openings,” he pointed out modestly. “I observe. It comes with living on the road. So yeah, I figured you could use the help, and I could use the job. A little something for everypony,” he replied cheekily, trying to show a little more Pegasus arrogance.
The weather captain quirked a brow. “Oh yeah? What past experience do you have?”
“I have experience with cloud break-ups over some of my families’ camps. I’ve done some rain seeding in my time, and I’ve managed to create a few small snow flurries in the wilds, when I have the time to practice. I’ve been on a few other weather teams, but you know how it goes. Moment another good Pegasus comes through, I’m the first head on the chopping block.” He shrugged.
“So you’ve been kicked off a team before.” The stallion hummed to himself as he narrowed his gaze pensively. Finally, he sighed as he stared Feather Blade down. “Well, we’ll have to see if you actually stand up to the work here, I suppose. If you pass, you can stay. We’ll be keeping a close eye on your work, though. We can’t afford to have any mistakes round these parts.”
“I guess that’s acceptable,” Feather Blade sighed. “So, when do I take my test?”
“Right now. Get a move on.” The weather captain started toward the door. “I don’t have all day. My shift starts soon. We’re going to make this quick.”
Pensword nodded as he rose to follow the captain out. “I’ll do what you ask of me, then.”
What Golden Oak hadn’t told Gabriel, likely expecting him to know, was that the building that would later become the townhouse of Ponyville currently served as the Everfree’s edge. True to the stallion’s word, the building stood a good two or three stories high. A tavern had been attached in the main parlor next to the check-in counter. Of course, the building itself went instantly quiet the moment he and New Moon walked in. The two stayed close together, and glared at the occupants as they crossed the room at a slow pace, letting their various weapons clank with each step.
“A half pint for me, and your largest flagon for my associate,” he ordered. “And if you could be so kind as to point us in the direction of the mayor, we’d be appreciative.”
“What’s the deal with so many outsiders showing up today?” the mare grumbled as she saw the Earth Pony mare drop some coins. “Still….” She began to fill the drinks. “You’re talking to her. Mayor, postmaster, bartender, with just a side of counselor.”
“Greetings, Madam Mayor. I am Gabriel, and this is my associate New Moon. We are hunters sanctioned by the crown and the holy orders. I have come to present my permit for hunting in this area.” The Gryphon pulled out the document and held it to the mare’s face. She made as though to read it, but he could see the lack of comprehension in her eyes. She seemed to only recognize the royal seal. It didn’t take a genius to guess she couldn’t read print.
“Looks in order,” the mayor replied. “I will….” She sighed. “Post Script will make a copy of this and post it on the message board in front of town hall, so the other townsfolk will know you’re all official. Just … don’t go bringing anything back from that cursed forest, all right? We don’t want Nightmare Moon coming back.”
New Moon grimaced under her cloak, but said nothing.
“We’d also like rooms. Two, if possible. One, if necessary,” Gabriel requested.
She looked at the pair. “I’ve got a couple of rooms. One bit for the mare, twenty for you, unless you have an expense account I can charge.” She looked to New Moon. “You raised by Bats? Never heard a mare called New Moon before that didn’t have the tufts or fangs.”
New Moon removed her hood, showing the head and face of a regular Earth Pony. “My parents named me New Moon for my dark coloring,” she answered sharply. “And twentybits? How do you expect us to afford food at that price?”
“You hunt in the woods. A Gryphon hunts, right?”
New Moon spluttered as she moved to press up against the counter, but Gabriel stuck his talons out and stopped her, shaking his head. “We thank you for your generous help, Madam Mayor, but we will pursue other means of lodging. We leave you in peace, in the name of Faust and Sleipnir, and the Four Winds across the globe.” He waved an amulet in front of him, and then the two left.
“Twenty bits!” New Moon seethed as they left the establishment. “How did Celestia allow such robbery?”
“It’s the times,” Gabriel shrugged. “People will do what they want to feel vindicated. Best to leave her thinking she got the upper hoof.”
“She did get the upper hoof. I’d already paid for our drinks, and then you went and gave her a blessing on top of everything else,” New Moon snorted.
“My dear New Moon, in the words of a wise Pony, you can argue with all the fools in the world. It’s better to let them think they got their way,” he produced a small leather sack of bits, “and then trick them afterwards.”
“But you never touched her!” New Moon gaped.
“No. I just never let her see me touch her.” He winked. “Come. We’ll see if we can find lodgings. I think I might know where we can.” And the two made a beeline for the massive golden oak.
Yvetal whistled merrily as he levitated his equipment onto the table and set up the proper protective enchantments, as Clover had taught him. Then he added a few extra frost wards to ensure any possible entries would be barred against infiltration. Once he’d made the accommodations more amenable, he trotted back out his door and down to the ground floor. His stomach rumbled, and he searched for any signs of his hostess. When he saw the counter abandoned, he turned to the room and asked, “Anypony know where the innkeeper is?”
“She’s with Golden Oak, setting up a table in the Solar Hall. The Smiths are going to show off some of their new recipes and feed the town…. Which means next week, the Pears are going to try and top them.”
Yvetal furrowed his brow. “The smiths? I know forgeponies can be skilled at cooking as well as they are at shaping, but do you really have a world class chef among them?”
“The apple farmers. Why would Iron Ore bake?” came the response from the peach-colored mare.
“Oh, you mean a family name,” Yvetal said as he laid a hoof over his forehead and nodded. “My apologies. When I hear the word smith, I always think of a forgepony first and foremost. You say they’re going to feed the town. Is their cooking really that popular?” he asked as he finished descending the stairs to enter the parlor proper.
“Well, yes. I guess … a donation to the Smiths might get you a seat to try some of their food, but I can’t guarantee anything.”
Yvetal shrugged. “I’ll live, I suppose. Mind giving me directions to the hall?”
“Just follow the noise. The Smiths are a rowdy bunch.”
Yvetal nodded. “My thanks.” While the suggestion proved rather difficult, given the noise in the parlor, the mage made the best of it and trotted down one of the spare corridors in search of the room in question. Thankfully, the scent of fresh sawdust eventually caught in his nose, and he followed it like a bloodhound, until he reached a cracked set of double doors. The sound of grating wooden legs and the occasional excited yelp paired with a country accent assured him he’d likely found the right place.
The Solar Hall wasn’t any grand affair, but it was carefully constructed. A set of carved circular windows allowed the light to shine down into the otherwise gloomy space. Metal discs hung down on cleverly designed hinges, waiting to circle back up and close over the spaces during the colder nights. Bright ribbons of yellow, red, and green streamed across the walls between solid light wooden pillars that had been carefully carved to give an almost faceted appearance as the sunlight streamed over them. A rather large reddish-brown table with intricate scroll carvings and a shining varnish sat in the very center as a tall tan Earth Pony with a dark brown mane spoke to the familiar purple mare.
“All right, this table should be a lot more stable.” He tapped the legs confidently. “If someone manages to damage any of the other tables, stop by. Or send me a letter, if you get too busy. I’ll be sure to get it done right away,” he finished with a smile.
Yvetal whistled as he approached the table. “Such fine craftsmanship,” he complimented. “And the wood appears to be of a significantly high quality. Though I’m curious. Where did you get ahold of the materials for the varnish?”
The stallion looked surprised for a moment, before turning to face Yvetal. “Oh. There’s a trader that comes by around once a month. He usually has a container of the stuff.”
“Interesting. I may need to see where he gets his ingredients from.” He smiled, and extended a hoof. “The name’s Yvetal. Alchemy and apothecary are my areas of expertise.” He chuckled. “Well, that, and a few spells for self defense.”
After a moment, the stallion returned the gesture. “Golden Oak. I’m … just a carpenter.”
“Considering you’ve garnered the mayor’s attention, I’m guessing you must have been here for quite some time. That, and your skill speaks for itself, of course,” Yvetal chuckled goodnaturedly.
Golden Oak rubbed the back of his head. “I’ve been here since the beginning. The Smith family took me in, and I’ve been here ever since.”
“That’s very kind of them.”
“Like we’d let him go that easily, after all the help he’s given on the farm,” a vibrant young alto voice rolled richly through the air, and Yvetal looked with some surprise at a hearty green mare with two bright blond pigtails. “Why, Golden Oak here’s as good as family.”
“I’m sure he is,” Yvetal agreed. “I’ve seen his type before. Not many Ponies like that left in the kingdom nowadays.” He frowned. “Now that I think about it, there’s a doctor who told me the strangest things about a Pony matching your description. He talked so quickly, it was rather difficult to follow, but he mentioned something about a debt, and interrupting him at inconvenient times. You wouldn’t happen to know of any such Ponies, would you?”
Golden Oak hummed in thought, before shrugging. “Sorry, I don’t think I do.”
“You’ll have to forgive him, if he doesn’t remember,” the green mare said sweetly. “When we found him all those years ago, he hardly remembered a thing, not even a name. I was just a little filly myself.” She chuckled. “It feels like such a long time ago.”
“Memory, you say. Interesting. I’ve met certain Ponies who study such things. It’s a tricky thing, the mind. Not much is known about those branches of magic, since Princess Luna disappeared.” He tapped his chin. “I may have some basic herbal remedies to offer, if you wish to try.” He shrugged. “I make no promises, however.”
“We’ll have to talk about that another time.” Golden Oak shook his head. “I need to get back to the shop. Plenty of work, little time to do it.”
“Of course. Of course.” Yvetal’s stomach rumbled. “And it would seem I need to get ahold of some food for sustenance.” He chuckled. “I hear the Smith family sells certain baked goods. Might there be a place nearby, where I could try some?”
The green mare chuckled. “I’ll show you the way.”
Gabriel and New Moon found themselves sitting twenty feet away from the large tree. ‘Golden Oak,’ as was the current alias Hammer Strike seemed to be using, was apparently away for the afternoon, and they had no clear indication when he’d be back. So the two were doing their best to appear nonchalant as they considered their options, which currently consisted of camping out in a free patch of land.
“All that gear, and you forgot a tent?” New Moon growled as Gabriel sat across from her, casually sharpening a knife.
“Contrary to popular opinion, my carrying space isn’t endless. It was either a tent or sleeping bags. I figured you’d be used to sleeping on the ground, princess,” the Gryphon shot back. New Moon responded with the silent treatment. And so, for the next while, all that passed between the two was the sound of stone scraping on metal as they waited.
Eventually, Golden Oak appeared as the sun began to set on the horizon. He trundled along with an empty cart behind him. He pulled off to the side of the tree, before detaching the cart and placing a block between the wheels.
“Ah, hello again mio amico!” Gabriel shouted, waving to the stallion. “Might I have a moment of your time?”
Golden Oak looked up from his cart. “Oh, hello again.” He gave a soft smile. “What did you have on your mind?”
“While the mayor was very helpful, as an inn keeper, she seemed to have a problem with me staying at her inn. The price she gave was … somewhat exorbitant. We were hoping you might know of a place that would give a room to a Gryphon for less than a fortune a night. I’d happily pay you for your trouble.”
Golden Oak rubbed the back of his head. “Yeah, she’s … not very comfortable around anypony that isn’t an Earth Pony.” He hummed thoughtfully to himself. “I … I have a spare room. I can give you and your companion what would be normal pricing at the inn.”
“Grazie! Thank you very much, my friend! Here. Consider this three days’ payment up front,” Gabriel said, producing a pouch of bits and tossing it to Oak.
“I’ll have to bring up the couch.” He moved his hoof to the back of his head once more. “I mean, unless you two prefer to … uh, share a bed, that is.”
There was that awkward moment of silence as the implications given dawned on both parties, before they both took an involuntary step back, shaking their heads. “No, no. Definitely not. We are partners in the fashion that we work together, but we are not that kind of partners, my friend,” Gabriel said. “The couch will be fine.”
“Got it. Sorry. Shouldn’t have said anything. I’ll move the couch up as soon as possible,” Golden Oak nodded as he opened the door, inviting them inside.
“Thank you for your hospitality,” New Moon said as they entered. “It’s nice to see somepony has some decency.”
“The spare room is upstairs on the right. It should be far enough away that my work won’t disturb either of you,” Golden Oak directed them as he moved toward the stairs leading to the basement. “I’ll bring the couch up.”
“We’ll do our best to keep out of your way,” New Moon offered. “If everything goes well, we shouldn’t be here more than a week.”
“That’s all right. As long as you two don’t cause any trouble, I don’t see an issue.”
The two nodded, before heading to their room. The second they were inside and the door was closed, Gabriel pulled out sheets of paper, quill, ink bottle, and a lighter. Then he began to write.
The realm of dreams Luna found was in a poor condition, worse than she’d found it when she’d first returned, and realized that she would need to do some housekeeping to give her returning self a helping hoof. While doing so, she created a space modeled after three mares that she found enjoyable company, and sent out a small pull for her fellow comrades to appear.
Gabriel appeared first, soon followed by Yvetal, and then Feather Blade appeared, albeit more translucent. “Oh … uh, sorry, but kind of in a bad situation here. Have to live outside of town, and, well, I’m missing a small pot already, and my tent fell down.”
“Are you in a half doze or something?” Yvetal asked.
“Yes. Need to catch whoever is doing this.” He sighed. “I just have poor hopes of getting anything to stick. Still, how’ve your days been settling in? I managed to make it on the weather team.”
“I’ve received confirmation that I will be allowed to hunt and take jobs within the city; however, I’ll have to send New Moon to claim bounties, and they’re subject to a fifty percent taxation by the town,” Gabriel noted.
“Apparently, these fees are crown sanctioned.” Luna’s voice dripped with contempt. “How Celestia let it get this bad, I’ll never know.”
“She is just one Pony, you know,” Yvetal noted. “Just because she’s an Alicorn doesn’t make it any easier to stop corruption from spreading somewhere in a kingdom as large as this.”
“Maybe, but it’s still troubling,” Luna said as she kicked the ground a few times.
“You both received my message, then?” Gabriel asked them. Then he shook his head. “You know what? No. This is ridiculous. We’re in a dream.” His accent altered from Bitalian to Phrench as he shook himself off, his garb changing to Grif’s familiar armor. “Thats better.”
“My accent is the same, just different tones,” Pensword replied. “Funny thing. Skills I learned for the Third Gryphon war. Works for the traveling style of Thestrals that don’t live in the caves or the lands to the north.”
Vital shrugged. “And since I’m not a famous historical figure, I don’t really have to worry about altering how I look, just what I wear. But now that we have all the formalities out of the way, what are we going to do about Hammer Strike? Based on what I saw in the letter, it seems you already found the same thing.” He shook his head. “Never thought he’d be the one facing amnesia.”
“He obviously doesn't remember us,” Grif nodded. “He also seemed different, more expressive. I don’t think this is something as simple as hitting his head too hard.”
“Are you suggesting willful suppression?” Vital asked.
“Not from Hammer Strike. I don’t think he’d ever willfully suppress his memory, no matter what happened. Something else is affecting him.”
“We may be able to find out,” Luna said as she stretched her wings. “However, the spell would be … complicated.”
“When have things ever been easy for us? I mean, well, as easy as point the Elements of Harmony and shoot easy.” Pensword chuckled ruefully. “We always seem to get the harder task.”
“I may be able to take us into his subconscious through his dream state; however, to do so as you are now carries a risk of you three being … overpowered by his mental processes. I would have to transport you physically,” Luna said.
“You can take someone physically into another’s mind? I thought that wasn’t possible with dream magic,” Vital said.
“Not for Thestrals,” Luna clarified. “Unicorns can affect the mind, but they cannot manipulate the dream realm. Thestrals cannot manipulate the mind, but they can enter the dream realm physically. I have the advantages of both; however, mental magic is not my strong suit,” she admitted.
“Not a problem. At least we have a means to get in and see what damage has been done. From there, we can see how we might be able to fix things.”
“Okay then, everyone. Get some REM sleep. We’ll try this tomorrow night. Agreed?” Grif looked around.
“I’ll try,” Pensword answered, before he fizzed out. “Great. Got somethi–.” And then he was gone.
“Where do you want us to meet? I’ll need to get it right,” Vital said.
“Outside the Golden Oak,” Grif instructed. “You can tell Pensword about it tomorrow. Oh, and Vital, before I forget–.” He grabbed the Unicorn and gave him a noogie. “Never got to say congrats.” And then Grif and Luna were gone.
Vital gaped as the dreamscape faded to blackness, before returning to the dreamscape of his old bedroom back on Earth. “Did he just troll me?”
“Yes,” a black Unicorn with red eyes and a blood-red mane replied. “Yes, he did.”
Feather Blade sat without anything in the small room. Heavy iron bars had been sturdily anchored into the windowsill. Another wall of bars stood between him and the room’s exit. He sighed as he recalled the events leading to his imprisonment. His shift had ended, he got paid, went to his camp, caught the pranksters, and now he was the one stuck in jail with his personal effects in lockup. The guard seemed to take great pleasure in informing him that his pay would be docked to pay a fine for daring to assault a Pony unprovoked.
“Pony feathers,” he grumbled to himself as he sat on the bench, waiting for his time to be up. He sighed in frustration. Luna and Grif were going to kill him. He looked frustratedly at the sheriff, a sandy gray pony with a messy dark brown mane.
“Excuse me?” there was a knock at the door to the jail as New Moon poked her head in.
After glancing over her, the sheriff adjusted his position. “What can I do fer’ ya, Miss?”
“I’m here to pay the appropriate bail bonds to free a mister,” she looked down at a sheet of parchment, “Feather Blade?”
The sheriff's eyes widened in surprise. “Yer’ here to help this stallion?”
“Yes. my associate and I have decided that we will need an assistant to look after the handling of possibly dangerous reagents and potions in regards to monster control. Mister Feather Blade may be part Thestral, but he is in good enough shape that he should last the month. I believe the practice is supported by our crown-granted rights. How much is his bail?”
“Seventy-five bits,” the sheriff replied with a shell-shocked expression.
She tossed a large sack negligently on his desk. “Paid in full.”
The stallion’s eyes bulged as he opened the pouch and dumped the contents to count. “I’ll just … make sure of it first, before I let this one out.” He frowned as he began slowly counting out the bits.
New moon huffed and rolled her eyes, but said nothing as the stallion continued his efforts. She finally drew her mace and began inspecting it as she waited.
After a few minutes, the sheriff let out a reluctant huff. “Everything appears to be in order,” he commented as he moved towards the cell, then removed the keys from his belt. Once Feather Blade had been freed, the sheriff narrowed his eyes menacingly. “You’d best watch yourself out there. If I hear one more peep from anypony about you, I’ll make sure you find yourself back in this cell faster than a wingbeat. Am I understood?”
“Yes, Sir,” Feather Blade responded in a level, albeit unsubmissive tone. “Can I have the stuff your deputy took when I showed you my campsite?” he asked as he walked slowly to the cell door.
“Anything that wasn’t considered dangerous.”
The halfbreed chuckled. “Then I don’t have much to worry about. Just send the stuff to wherever this mare is sleeping.” He stepped out of the door and a Pegasus shoved a pink paper into his muzzle, then flew off, before either Pony could object. Feather Blade sighed as he looked over the message, then looked to New Moon. “It would seem defending one’s property is an offense punishable by losing employment. You’ll pay in food, right?”
“Of course,” New Moon smiled sweetly as she gave him a shove forward. She leaned in to whisper in his ear as she steadied his footing. “We’ll talk about this later. We have to move,” she said quietly as they left.
Gabriel was sitting by a fire behind the oak when they arrived. He sharpened his knife casually as they approached.
“So, you are the fortunate soul to be press ganged into service for the order of the monster hunter,” he said grandiosely, as though he was a being of nothing but pomp and airs. “The road ahead will be difficult, my friend, but know what when you die, it will be in the glorious name of the gods, protecting others from harm.”
“As long as I get food in my belly,” Feather Blade grumbled. “Just lost my job and all my worldly possessions anyway.”
The Gryphon offered him a bowl of stew and a chunk of stale bread.
“Thank you,” Feather Blade replied. “I won’t have to eat grass today.” He settled down on the ground and slowly ate his meal, using the bread to help wipe up the last remnants of broth from his bowl.
“Those of us who are different, this is the way it goes, no?” Gabriel shrugged. “Come by the fire and warm yourself.”
Feather Blade scooted closer to the fire and sighed. “You have permission from the owner?”
“Yes, I have settled everything. Unfortunately, I do not have room for you inside, but I have all you will need for the night, and you have enough wood to use this fire all night.”
“I ... I thank you, unless I break some town law for camping outdoors inside the limits. Then again, they could just make something up. They usually do.” Feather Blade sighed again. Then his brow furrowed in curiosity. “How did you learn I was in jail, anyway?”
“Let’s say a little birdie told them,” Yvetal said as he approached the trio bearing his saddlebags and what appeared to be a gnarled walking stick. His blond mane whipped in the evening wind as the shadows cast from the fire danced across his face. “If there’s one thing I can’t stand, it’s people being mistreated when they don’t deserve it.”
“They won’t go out of their way to make us angry.” New Moon shook her head. “They’ll only push us so far.”
“And that conveys to me, since you just pressed me into helping you all hunt monsters.”
“Exactly,” Gabriel nodded. “Now then, if you would, New Moon.” He looked to the mare, and then to the others. To all outside, she seemed to pull out a scroll to begin a long-winded speech. Inside the reality bubble she had just cast, New Moon shifted back into the form of Luna.
Grif pulled a hatchet from his bag and handed it to the Pegasus. “Try not to get arrested again. We’re going to be hunting for the rest of our time here, just to make up the slack, unless a hydra wanders into town.”
“I’ll do my best, but I was arrested for reporting the abuse, after I protected my tent, so I’m not sure if I can stop them.”
“Try, Pensword. It’s very important.” Then he looked back to the Alicorn. “Well, Luna, let’s get this going.”
Luna nodded. “Gather in close,” she instructed as her horn’s glow began to brighten.
Pensword stepped forward, holding his hatchet at the ready. Vital followed suit, bowing his head in preparation for what was to come. Grif approached last as Luna’s horn reached its peak. And then everything went white.
The white light fractured into a series of fragments that drifted through a darkened space, refracting a rainbow of colors, before distorting into gaping puddles of black rimmed by red, until the whole space was consumed. The pools converged on the group, and then everything shattered into the calm of night as a cool wind moaned through the branches of the mighty tree above.
“Did it work?” Vital asked as he shook his head to try to overcome the dizziness. “And why do I feel like the world is still spinning?”
“Well, either it worked or that rabbit I had ate something funky,” Grif noted.
“Uh, the sky is different.” Pensword pointed a wing to a heavily shaded blue with purple hues and bright purple stars glittering within. The moon pulsed the same gentle purple. And as the party looked around, they could see the many buildings from the town staring bleakley back at them. Some few flickered with candlelight through their windows, while the rest remained dark. The oak itself seemed to cast a light out from its doorway onto the hoof-trod track.
“Yes,” Luna said as she looked up. “It is, indeed.”
“So this is supposed to be Hammer Strike’s mind?” Vital asked. “I thought you said it was supposed to be just a black space.”
“This isn’t his mind, Vital Spark. This is … somewhere in between. Something appears to have actively pushed us away from his mind,” Luna noted.
“So we’re in a sort of mental limbo?”
“I suppose that's the best term,” Luna noted. “We should try to find a way to enter Hammer Strike’s mind. This place feels … wrong, dangerous.”
Pensword looked around, taking in the strange sights. “Then I guess we should enter the Golden Oak? That is his home in the real world, after all.”
“I’ll take point,” Grif said. “Vital, you get behind me with Pensword flanking you. Luna will take the rear.”
The four grouped up and made their way cautiously around the trunk of the tree. The golden portal revealed nothing beyond it, only the light that cast itself over their faces as they approached and finally entered.
As soon as they all entered, the door behind them closed, and the light faded. The inside of the tree was completely unlike its counterpart in the real world. Instead, the room had taken on a large rectangular shape. On their left was a small set of tables set for building. On their right was a set of bookshelves filled from top to bottom. Below them, a long blue rug stretched onward to the end of the room, where two individuals sat patiently. The one in the center sat behind a large mahogany desk with a small stack of papers, as well as a small green lamp. He looked to be a Gryphon. It was tough to determine his size, but he seemed to be on the smaller side. His crest was made up of swept back tan feathers. What struck grif was the long mane-like feathers sweeping behind his neck. He had absurdly large eyes that seemed to be at either side of his face. His beak was abnormally long and pointed. His talons where unseeable, as his sleeves covered to his wrists, and his claws were covered by thick white gloves. Behind him, a pair of wizened wings hung lazily at his side, clearly having not been through much exercise. His tufted tail swayed like a cat admiring prey.
To his right was a small couch where a Unicorn mare sat. She had a pale peach coat, with an equally pale gray mane that flowed backwards. A tight blue headband held the majority of it in place, while a slight portion hung out over her brow, casting a shadow onto her left eye as she gazed neutrally at the newcomers. A deep blue long coat the same shade as her headband covered most of her body, folding over itself in the front with golden rings to secure it. In her hooves was a large leatherbound book with a large golden V in the center surrounded by a laurel wreath.
The room was cast in a soft blue light, and in the background, the group could hear the faint sounds of a piano.
The Gryphon’s smile shifted. “Welcome to the velvet room.” He opened his eyes to look at the group. “My, what an interesting situation we have all found ourselves in. For normally, the one who holds the strongest contract is the one to appear before me.” He gave a soft chuckle as he moved his hand forward over the table. “This place exists between mind and matter.” He swiped his hand as a set of tarot cards appeared before him, face down on the table. “It separates dreams from reality.”
“Spirit, tell me what your purpose here is,” Luna demanded with a snort.
The Gryphon chuckled. “You’re certainly mistaken, Miss Luna.” He shifted his hand back under his chin. “Some introductions are in order. My name is Igor, the Oathkeeper. It is a delight to make your acquaintance. To my right is Track.” He gestured with his hand as the mare nodded. “Right now, you are all on the outside of The World, just outside of the reach of his current state.”
“The … World?” Vital queried.
Igor’s hand shifted over the center card and turned his hand over. The card underneath turned over, revealing a tarot card bearing the name. “Your friend, and the one to hold the strongest contract out of all of you.”
“Strongest contract?” Pensword asked at the same time as Grif.
“Contract for what?” Grif pressed further.
Igor turned the card back over. “Merely a strong contract, one that he took upon himself many years ago.” Igor moved his hand to the side and swiped over all of the cards, turning four of them in the process. “Much like you all have.” The four cards that turned were Hierophant, Justice, Death, and Moon.
“I’m … still not sure I get it,” Vital said honestly.
“Hammer Strike’s in trouble. We all have a connection to him. An oath, if you will. That’s why he’s appearing to us. He let us in, because we can help him. That right?” Grif asked, not even looking away from the card. A strangely human skull had been imposed over a doorway with the roman numeral for thirteen beneath it.
“You are mostly correct,” Igor chuckled. “All of you have some part in this journey ahead, as your arrival set the airship in motion.”
“Airship in motion?” Pensword asked. “Are we talking literal or metaphorical?”
“With the current state of your friend being in an unsettled balance, his very existence was up for debate.” Igor shifted his attention towards Grif and Luna. “Upon spotting the two of you, it sparked something in his subconscious, a part of himself stuffed so far away that when he was displaced, it merely became inactive.”
“What do we need to do?” Luna asked.
“You merely need to deal with his shadow.” Igor shifted his hand back under his beak as the cards beneath him disappeared. “In his mind, the shadow has placed its roots down once more, but without his other half being there to keep it in check, the shadow is soon to take control, once and for all.” He placed one hand on the desk as he leaned his head against the other.
Pensword frowned. “That isn’t good. Shadows can grow into Nightmares, and Nightmares can become very problematic.” He looked to the strange Gryphon. “So how do we defeat a shadow?”
“You’ll have to figure it out on your own,” Igor chuckled. “We can offer some support as you progress forward.” His smile seemed to widen. “We are most curious to see how this journey will end.” The door behind them opened suddenly, bathing the room in light.
“The doorway behind you will lead you to his shadow’s plane,” Tracker spoke for the first time. “Be warned. With his shadow being the only thing to exist right now, it is only a matter of time until it takes control. You have, most likely, until the end of the month.”
“Joy,” Pensword deadpanned, “a time limit.”
“Okay, is it just me, or are you guys getting a serious sense of deja vous from this?” Vital asked as he tapped his chin ponderingly. “I just can’t quite place my finger on it. Or would that be hoof?”
“Hoof,” Pensword clarified.
“I’ll take point,” Grif said, cutting off all chances of moving the line of questioning forward. There were more important matters at hoof. Then he moved forward through the doorway.
“Let’s not tarry,” Luna added as she followed after.
“Allons-y?” Vital asked, before taking the plunge and jumping through the door.
“Off into the wild blue yonder,” Pensword muttered, before following suit.
As the light faded from their eyes, the group found themselves standing in a forest. Familiar sounds and smells greeted them. The night sky had even shifted color to a royal blue. They were standing on a length of cobblestone road, leading onwards to New Unity, but it wasn’t the castle, nor the walls that greeted them. Banners lined several lamp posts, each bearing Hammer Strike’s sigil. Down the road was a large castle with stained glass windows displaying his mark and face. Towers lined the sides in an odd mesh that almost felt impossible.
“Dreamscape?” Pensword asked Luna as they looked around the area.
“I believe the term is mindscape,” Vital pointed out. “Or … maybe a palace?”
“Palace?” Pensword turned to question the Unicorn’s choice of words.
“Well, what else do you call that thing?” Vital asked as he pointed to the building. “Sure is opulent enough.”
“I guess you could call it that, but I feel fortress would fit as well.”
“We can argue this kinda thing later,” Grif said brusquely. “Let’s move ahead.”
“You taking point again?” Pensword asked.
“I guess I am,” Grif said as he moved forward.
“Any idea where we’re going to find him?” Vital asked.
“The forge?” Pensword deadpanned.
After a few hesitant moments, Grif moved towards the great structure’s large doors and opened them, revealing the grand entrance hall. A broad staircase was present in the center of the room, covered in a gold relief on all the stone surfaces, with intricately carved scenes of past deeds done by Hammer Strike. Blue banners with Hammer Strike’s personal seal in gold thread hung from golden flagpoles along the hall.
Any other details, Pensword forgot. “Guys, we’d better back out fast. We have armed guards heading our way, and they look like giant humans. We’d better retreat, unless you think we can use a hatchet against metal.”
“I’m unsure if retreat or attack would be wise,” Luna said as she eyed the figures.
“Can they be reasoned with?” Vital queried?
Vitals question was answered as a massive longsword swept towards him, just barely deflected by Grif’s katana. “I don’t think they want to talk over tea and crumpets,” Grif answered.
“Fall back and regroup away from these guards,” Pensword snapped.
“And if they follow us?” Vital pressed back as he levitated the staff off his back and dropped the glamour over it to reveal Watcher.
“Vital, keep to the back. Pensword, you guard him. Let me and Luna keep the front here,” Grif ordered as he attempted several strikes on the guards. One was blocked, and two bounced away without causing any damage.
Somebody needs to cool off,” Vital said as he sent a blast of concentrated ice magic down at the knights’ feet.
“Something’s screwy here,” Grif noted as he sent a powerful blast of wind at the head of one, hoping to topple him over.
The knights, in turn, stumbled backwards, breaking the ice at their feet, but did not fall over. Grif dodged another swing as they retreated outside the castle. This one severed a lamp post, causing it to fall. Grif caught the image of one of the guards stumbling as it attempted to side step the falling pole. “Well, at least that's something. Luna, did you notice?”
“It would seem that they can be more adequately damaged with things from this world than by our weapons.” Luna grabbed the lamp post in her magic and swung it at one of the guards.
“So what do you guys want me to do, play the medic?” Vital asked as he stepped back somewhat uncertainly.
“That depends. How strong’s your telekinesis?” Grif asked, dodging another swing.
“I’m competent enough, but I’m not sure how effective it’ll be in here with how these things shrug our attacks off. What’re you thinking, Grif?”
“If I can cut some of these poles down, how hard do you think you can chuck them?”
“If you want to pierce, then you’ve found your Pony.” Vital smirked viciously. “It’s about time I got to put some of that javelin practice to use.”
“Luna, keep them off me.” Grif spread his wings and took to the air.
“I make no promises,” Luna responded as she assaulted the guards with her flag pole. Fortunately for Grif, it seemed that inanimate objects were less resilient as he made his way through the street severing post after post with his katana.
Each post was quickly surrounded by an icy blue aura as it fell, and flew to circle in front of Vital Spark as he created multiple rings moving counter to the outer layer. “Let me know when you’re ready, Grif.”
“As soon as Luna’s out of the way!” Grif called out. The Alicorn of the night launched herself into the air, upon hearing this, doing her best to get out of the range of the guards.
Vital Spark’s smirk widened, exposing his sharper canines as the poles began to spin like drills. “Jackpot,” he said, and the poles flew like a swarm of harpoons, streaking through the air, and leaving behind a trail of light as they sought out their targets. A few broke or bounced off the armor plating, but left heavy dents, which allowed the ones following to find a point of weakness and skewer the armor through the chest.The knight stumbled backwards as the entirety of it became covered in shadow, before dispersing.
“... Okay, so I’m going to assume these are subconscious defenses designed to oust intruders,” Vital guessed. “Do we have any reinforcements coming after us?”
“I think we’re in the clear for the moment,” Grif said, scanning their surroundings. “Let’s get out of the street and get our bearings.” He started down a narrow alley. The others soon followed, dodging into the cover of the shadows to take in the situation.
“Okay, Luna. You’re the expert here. What can you tell us about what’s going on?” Vital asked as they gathered beneath the eaves of a larger hut.
“It seems that if this is Hammer Strike’s mind, the strength of our weapons is determined by how strong he determines them to be,” Luna responded, “which, given this is Hammer Strike we’re talking about….”
“Our weapons would be akin to what one would give to a foal to play with,” Pensword finished worriedly. “So, that means we need to sneak in and find an armory of weapons from his own mind.”
“Either that or use weapons that he’s crafted himself. I’d assume those would have a greater impact, since he made them. Actually … that’s not a bad idea. Guys, how many of you packed your pistols?” Vital asked.
Grif pulled out his colt. “Not made by Hammer Strike, but I think he at least knows what it’s capable of.”
Pensword gave a look to Grif. “Did you bring my pistol? Because you told me to not bring anything. And as you saw, I lost everything in the first two days here.”
Grif looked to Luna, who levitated a holstered flintlock to him. “You’ve got enough for twelve shots. Make it count.”
Pensword nodded his understanding. “And knowing Hammer Strike, we might find more shots placed about the area.”
“Well, assuming we’re following–.”
“Ground team, report in, damn it!” Hammer Strike’s distorted voice echoed out from the entrance hall.
“... Okay, not even going to try to finish that thought,” Vital said as he shook his head. “So that was a security team we likely just killed, which means this other Hammer Strike’s going to be tipped off something’s up before we even start trying to get in there. Great,” he said as he rolled his eyes.
“Nothing is easy, is it?” Pensword asked.
“Well, you know, there is another thing we can try, rather than the front door,” Grif noted.
“Secret passage?” Vital asked.
“That would require you knowing the layout of the castle, Vital. Think a little more obvious.”
“A window?”
“Pensword? Surely, you can see the obvious alternative possibility.”
“Well, one is to actually go through the proper channels to make a meeting with this Hammer Strike, and the other is to stake out, learn routes, and find gaps in the security.”
“Look at me, Pensword. I want you to consider our assets. There are four of us here: a Gryphon, a Thestral, an Alicorn, and a relatively light Unicorn,” Grif said, emphasizing each species.
Pensword facehoofed. “We come in from the air. And as Hammer Strike is on the finding out what happened, we hit from the above.” He couldn’t help but grin afterwards. “Brilliant.”
“I swear. If it isn’t one thing, it’s another. Not only am I unable to control my body while a dimwit runs charge, but now you lot are slacking!” Hammer Strike yelled out.
“We’d better move, while he’s focused on the ground team,” Pensword whispered.
Luna levitated Vital Spark onto her back and the three took to the air as silently as they could, being sure to take a scenic path, so as not to be spotted easily.
The castle was easily fifteen stories high, with a mismatch of towers jutting out from different locations. The top of the castle was relatively flat, with a few training dummies placed about. At each of the four corners, there was an entrance to the connected towers, and at each entrance, a large guard sat in wait.
“Oh, Great. More guards. And if they go silent, he’ll know. How do we get past them? Through a window?” Pensword groused.
“Yeah. Keep talking, because we want them to notice us,” Grif growled back. He signaled to Luna, making a loop around gesture. Before the guards could notice their presence, Luna’s horn flashed and the four faded from view. “Pensword, put a hoof on Luna’s side, and don’t say anything,” Grif instructed.
Pensword did as he was bid. It felt strange to do this to someone he held in such high esteem, though.
After what Grif decided was a sufficient amount of time, he felt around his pack. Fortunately, during the Third Gryphon War, he’d been put under an invisibility charm more than once, and was accustomed to how they worked. He found what he was looking for relatively easily. It was a spherical device with a wind-up key at the top. Had it been visible, it would have appeared as bright pink with a familiar balloon mark on it. He wound the key three times and silently counted to five-err … three and tossed it towards the far corner. A second later, the sound of a party horn played as the ball exploded, throwing up brightly colored confetti, streamers, and a cloud of pink sparkling smoke. The second the guard was away from the door, Grif tested it to see if it was locked. It was, of course. Fishing out a knife and a lockpick burnt up half a second they didn’t have. The first attempt ended in failure, and Grif cursed silently to himself. However, the second attempt came with a satisfying, barely audible click. He opened the door as silently as he could and Luna pulled Pensword through it with Vital Spark still on her back. Grif followed a moment later, closing the door as silently as possible, before scanning the new area.
Luna dropped the spell. It would be nearly impossible for the four of them to navigate the spiral staircase they found themselves on while invisible.
“Okay, so a few ground rules.” Grif turned on Pensword. “This is a stealth operation. The key to a successful stealth operation is stealth. If you need to speak, speak low, and combine as much information into as few words as possible. Never stay in an open area, if you can at all avoid it. And remember, if we meet up with Hammer Strike, the likelihood is that the four of us could get fired from living, so be careful.”
“Can I get down now?” Vital whispered.
Luna levitated Vital Spark to the ground.
Pensword slowly looked around the area. “Well, this looks like a normal tower,” he whispered.
“We head up first,” Grif said. “Eventually, those idiots are going to notice that something's not right. I want to find something heavy to lean against that door.”
“Won’t that just tell them we came here?” Vital asked as he waved his horn. His hooves glowed briefly. “Cloudwalking spell. Also good for stealth,” he whispered.
“Vital, if they can’t get inside the door, does it really matter if they figure it out?” Grif asked as he headed upwards.
“Kinda moot, if we don’t find said heavy object.”
“How many fortresses have you all infiltrated? Show of hooves?” Grif said, turning to look at the group. After a beat and no hooves raised, he nodded. “Yes, this is an infiltration. Not a raid, not a siege, an infiltration. So, please, maybe just trust me a little bit, okay?”
“Of course,” Pensword whispered.
“Anybody got a suit of armor or something we can prop, then?” Vital asked.
“Look, I’ll head up and check. For now, Vital, why don’t you freeze it shut?” Grif didn’t wait for confirmation. He took to wing and began flying up the stairs.
“I’d have to include a spell to help it endure in this mindscape, but I’ll try,” Vital sighed as he charged up his horn and started applying it like a blowtorch to each of the seams along the door, being careful to prevent it from spreading to the outer portions.
The top of the tower ended in an open room with several windows. Standing near one of the windows, a large figure was kneeling. Unlike the other knights, this unit wore thick leather to cover itself, with its head shrouded by a hood. Its hand rested on a long metal pipe, and the more Grif examined it, the more he was able to determine about it. It was a firearm: specifically a rifle with a bolt action.
Grif didn’t leave this to chance. He moved up behind the sniper and grabbed the back of his hood, pulling him to the ground. He wrenched its head back, then slammed it against the stone, using his momentum aspect to increase the force on impact. He repeated the action six times, until the body stopped twitching. The guard’s shadow began to grow like the previous one, slowly consuming it, before dispersing, leaving the rifle to clatter to the ground. Grif retrieved the weapon and ghosted back down the stairs to report. “Unfortunately, there’s nothing heavy up there, but I got a new toy for Pensword.” He tossed the rifle to the Pegasus. “Just be careful. You fire that thing without a good reason and we’re in trouble.”
“So, down?” Vital asked.
“Down. And of course I won’t fire it, unless I have a good reason,” Pensword groused back. “I’m not trigger happy.” He checked over the weapon’s mechanics. “Besides, I only have one round in the chamber.” He cleared the weapon, pointing it away from everyone else to avoid any potential accidents.
“Well then, now you have two shots,” Luna noted. “One from the flintlock, one from the rifle.”
Grif took the lead again, taking the steps down carefully and stopping every so often to listen for movement. “Do we go to the ground or take the next door?” he asked.
“Do what your ears and gut tell you,” Pensword answered.
“My ears and gut tell me we’re in a large fortress, inside Hammer Strike’s mind, with no actual idea what we’re looking for just yet, and we have no point of reference, so, really, I’m open to suggestions.”
“Check all the rooms, then. Leave no room unsearched.”
“Don’t suppose there’s a lockpicking spell you have handy?” Grif looked to Luna and Vital hopefully. Both looked away, and Luna whistled innocently. Grif heaved a heavy sigh. “Of course not.” The first door they came across was, of course, locked. Grif got out his knife and lockpick. The first attempt seemed to go well for a moment, but then failed near the end. The second nearly broke the lockpick in the attempt. The third, once again, was a near miss, but on the fourth try, the door proceeded to spring open, before Grif even moved the first tumbler. “Well, that was embarrassing.”
“What?” Vital asked curiously.
“I thought the door was locked. Turns out I twisted the handle wrong,” he sighed.
“It happens.” Pensword shrugged
“So, after you?” Vital asked.
“Same idea as before. You two stay behind.” Grif nodded as he entered the next room first, followed by Luna. They began scanning it immediately. A long stone hallway stretched out in front of them. A series of torches blazed a comforting orange in their sconces, lighting the way down an otherwise shadowy corridor. A simple red carpet stretched along the expanse, lined on either side by tapestries, sculptures, and paintings. From what could be seen, there were no guards present at the moment. “Why do I feel like we just finished the prologue of a video game?” Grif sighed as he signaled the others to follow, and they made their way into the passageway.
The hallway turned further down to the left, eventually running past two sets of doors with no indicators as to what the rooms held within. One set was especially large, with gilded framing and intricate carvings in Latin.
“So, not entering that room just yet,” Grif noted as he turned smartly away from the larger set.
“Yeah, looks important, and I feel like we might need to prepare before entering,” Pensword agreed.
“Not that important. It’s a nondescript door,” Luna noted. “The size and style portray it as a larger chamber, however, so we must be ready for what the chamber will hold.”
Grif led the group past the double doors and towards another left turn.
The hallways went further down, ending in a junction heading both left and right. Two doors stood on either side, once again with no additional markings. One of the same types of knights from the roof was standing at the end of the hall at the junction, glancing between all three routes. A sheathed longsword hung from its waist on the right, while a heater shield held onto its left arm. Before they could make out anymore details, the guard unsheathed its sword and turned its head to the left.
“We’ve got intruders!” it yelled out, resulting in two sets of heavy footsteps moving to its position. At that moment, the torches shifted in hue, bathing the hallway in blue.
“Well, isn’t this lovely,” Vital said as he rolled his eyes and lit up his horn.
“Luna, you control most of the stuff associated with the moon, right?” Grif asked.
“Yes. Why?”
“Gravity?”
“Gravity?” Luna echoed, confused.
“Gravity,” Grif affirmed.
“Ooh, gravity!” Luna’s horn sparked. “Let’s hope this works.” The gravity in the hallway before them tripled. There was now a very heavy walk between them and the guards, with said guards currently wearing exceptionally heavy armor.
“Let’s hope that bought us some time,” Grif noted, unclasping his bow.
“Want me to make them fall flat on their faces again?” Vital asked.
“No. I need you to get that heavy picture frame and melt the gold off of it to coat these arrowheads,” Grif said, pulling out several arrows. “And quickly would be optimal here.”
“I’ll try. Clover’s been making me focus on mastering ice. The other elements are still wily,” he warned as he turned his horn on the frame and fired his magic in a concentrated beam, like a laser. Much to everyone’s relief, the metal actually did melt into slag, and Grif was swift to coat his arrows, before applying a brisk wind to cool and harden the new coating. “Don’t forget to account for the weight difference,” Vital warned as he took a few steadying breaths.
“Okay. Now everyone, take one.” Grif passed out three ordinary rocks. “When I tell you, toss them as hard as you can.” He pulled back the bow and took aim at the first knight. When he was sure of his aim, he called out, “Now!” They threw the stones, which landed mysteriously on the ground right in front of them. Grif fired and took an involuntary step back as the momentum-enhanced arrow shot towards its target. The three actually felt a miniature shockwave. Grif staggered a bit from the wave of exhaustion that passed across his body. The arrow, for its part, would normally have pinged off the thick plate mail. However, with its super enhanced momentum, it proceeded to pierce through the guard’s body and into the wall behind it. The good news was that it was as good as dead. The bad news was there was no way in Tartarus Grif could pull off another of those.
The knight staggered backwards as darkness consumed it before vanishing, leaving its chestplate to clatter to the ground. Luna was quick to lasso the chestplate with telekinesis and bring it over. The armor seemed to shift as it came closer, shrinking and adjusting into an armored petryl. She slipped it on carefully and stepped forward. It took only a look to see Grif and Vital Spark could not handle what was to come next. Swinging her mace, the lunar Alicorn stared ahead. Her eyes took on a greener hue briefly and slitted as she entered her own gravity spell, unbothered by it. ‘Come on, Luna. Let me play.’Luna immediately shook her head. Whatever the voice was, she ignored it, focusing on the battle that was yet to come.
The other knights finally rounded the corner. They were slightly larger than the previous guard. The one on the left was wielding a greatsword, while the one on the right wielded a greathammer. One major difference that the group noticed was the visor for the guards held a single glowing red dot on either the left or right side.
“I’ll warn you once, and only once,” Luna said. “I am Luna Artemis Demeter Galaxia, sovereign ruler of the moon and high chieftess of the Thestral kind. I was born of war, and forged of battle. If you meet me, know that you will not pass me. So attack me, if you will. One by one, if you have honor. All together, if you don’t. It matters not. Let us descend.” She swung the mace in front of her one last time, and immediately, it shifted, taking a midnight-blue hue as the head became rounded with numerous small holes resembling craters. She vanished, appearing in the shadow of the one wielding the great hammer. Taking the moment, she swung her mace at its helmet. The moonlight she forged into the ore added an ethereal nature to her mace, and it was only for this reason it did not break on the first strike, nor the second. On the third, the head popped off, and the knight dropped to its knees, stunned.
Luna dropped her head just in time to avoid being decapitated by the greatsword, which cleaved off a solid chunk of her mane. She grabbed ahold of the stunned knight’s greathammer and wrenched it free. Turning, she blocked the greatsword with the hammer head. Now wielding a weapon more in her element, Luna pressed the attack, striking repeatedly with wide powerful swings. She managed to dent the knight’s armor several times, through receiving deep gouges in her sides for the trouble. Luna ignored the pain as she drew back on her many fights with Hammer Strike and her sister. The knight fought with a similar fighting style to Hammer Strike, though without the raw power. Clanging metal rang through the hall, and sparks flew as the two titans engaged. Bleeding, battered, and bruised, Luna finally managed a lucky hit, and the guard’s knee gave out with a sickening crack. Not missing a chance, Luna brought the hammer down on his head, denting the helmet, then swung upwards again. Three times, she repeated the blows, until the helmet crumpled completely with a sickening crack. The knight fell still. However, Luna had forgotten the owner of her hammer, and was caught off guard by a powerful blow. The giant retrieved his weapon, and made his way towards her, raising it, ready to end the fight.
Three rapid gunshots rang out in succession. The first caught him behind the knee, where the plating was weakest, and the bullet tore through. The second and third found their places between the helmet and chestplate, sending him down. Grif watched, holding the Colt Python in his hand, panting slightly.
As the one wielding the greathammer burst into shadow, several items clattered to the ground noisily. Its boots stumbled forward, followed by shoulder plates, and lastly, a small box that clattered to the floor next to them.
Meanwhile, where the other one was, a small glowing orb hovered slightly off the ground, faintly shifting from white to a soft cloudy gray.
Pensword slowly moved from his defensive stance as he looked at the items. “Should I touch the orb? Or would you care to do so, Luna?”
“No.” Luna winced a bit as she moved forward. Grif had managed to get stable. They both made their way to the other pile. Luna took the boots, while Grif took the pauldrons. Both garments shrank and altered as the breastplate had. Grif’s shifted only slightly to fit his form, while Lunas reformed into heavily armored horseshoes that covered her hooves. Another pair materialized on her back hooves to match.
“So, uh … who takes the pulsing artifact of mystery?” Vital asked.
“You’re the wizard,” Grif noted, throwing Pensword the box. “There. Something for everybody.”
“... Okay, then.” Vital Spark pulled the orb to him, then stopped a moment to rub his forehead. “Okay, that was weird. Felt a little lightheaded for a sec there.” He looked over the curious object. It felt like a regular marble, but seemed to be closer to about two or three times in size. “Well, into the bag you go for now, I guess,” he said with a shrug.
Pensword took the box into his hooves, and looked at it. Since there were no locks on it that he could see, he cracked it open to peer inside. His brow furrowed in confusion when all he could see was a gray mist swirling around. It didn’t dissipate or try to flow out of the box, leaving the Pegasus even more confused. He looked to Grif. “I’m going to do something dumb, but this is in Hammer Strike’s head. Dumb luck follows him. Just … be ready, if anything bad happens.” He stuck his hoof into the mist and rifled around the space for a time. Then he pulled his hoof out. Four rifle rounds rolled on his hoof. “Woah. I got ammo.” The mist had disappeared. However, since he didn’t have a magazine for the rifle, he put the ammo back into the box. The instant they entered, the mist returned, obscuring them from his vision. “Interesting.” He reloaded his rifle, then put the box and its remaining ammunition into his pack.
“Now then, everyone, kindly head back the way we came. Now would be excellent, because I don’t want to tempt fate any longer, and we just had a big noisy battle. Hammer Strike’s got to be almost here,” Grif noted.
Pensword flapped his wings and flew in the direction Grif indicated, looking worriedly as he held his rifle at the ready. Grif and Luna leaned on each other as they moved along the hallway. Luna was wounded, Grif was exhausted, and neither warrior was prepared for any more combat.
“I assume we’re going to retreat back to the real world for now to regroup?” Vital asked as they continued along their way.
“We lose much more energy, and our thaumic fields will start breaking down. Then old wounds will start coming back, and that will be ugly,” Grif explained as they limped towards the stairs.
“So we either need to find something to help us get better or locate rest areas?” Pensword asked.
“Maybe, but right now we’re tired, we’re injured, and getting back’s going to be a slog as is. If we move carefully, we might be able to reuse this entrance. I kinda doubt it, but I’m hopeful.”
“So we keep eyes out for other entrances?” Pensword asked.
“Yeah.” Grif nodded as they entered the tower, then led them to the open top. “Luna, can you teleport?”
“Myself? Leagues. The four of us? I can do maybe half a mile in my current condition,” Luna admitted.
“Just get us to the road,” Grif ordered. Luna nodded, and the three moved in close to her. They vanished in a flash of light, re-appearing on the lamp-strewn road a ways out from the castle wall they’d scaled not so long ago. Slowly, Grif and Luna trudged along. Vital Spark and Pensword kept a close watch on the rear as they pressed forward.
After some distance of travel, the group came across a fine line in the ground before them, potentially meaning the end of Hammer Strike’s cognitive world. However, to the right of the path, there stood a blue ethereal door with a familiar V in its center. Grif and luna collapsed not long after they entered the room. Pensword entered from behind, watching their backs in worry of being pursued. He motioned Vital Spark in with a curt nod, then passed through himself and closed the door behind him.
“Welcome to the Velvet room,” Igor commented as he smiled at the group. “My, it appears you’ve all run into some trouble in The World’s cognition.”
“You know, you could have warned us our weapons weren't going to be very useful,” Grif commented dryly.
“I’m afraid I can’t tell you all everything,” Igor shook his head. “Plus, you never did ask, now did you?”
“Okay, then why isn’t our energy returning?” Grif asked.
“Because you aren’t connected to any source of magic.” Igor leaned against his hand. “As his cognition of you right now is that you are technically enemies, his own magical reserves are being cut off from you, leaving you without any form of resupply.” He chuckled. “There are, of course, other means to do so as well.”
“What happens, if the shadow sees us before we’re ready?”
“Most likely, they will alert the others to your presence, bringing awareness to Hammer Strike. This will, of course, cause his cognition to actively act against you.”
“You mentioned other means to resupply our magic reserves. Can you tell us what those are, and how we can get them?”
Igor chuckled as his smile widened. “There are several means by which you may do so. While his own magic is so unstable, it might have some tangible form inside that world of his. Another way has to do with materials that can only be obtained in the cognitive world. If I am correct about this, one of you currently holds a part.”
“Are you talking about this?” Vital Spark asked as he pulled out the small orb.
“That, my friends, is a Drop of Dreams.” Igor gestured to the orb. “With that, and some other materials, you might be able to make some restorative items to assist you in your journey.”
“And how would we get ahold of the recipes for these items?” Vital pressed.
“That isn’t necessary,” Track spoke up. “I know every potential recipe that makes use of any materials found in the cognitive world. As long as you can bring the materials to me, I can assist you in the creation of these items.”
“Indeed.” Igor chuckled once again. “But for now, the night is waning, and the day will soon be upon you all. We will meet again. That is for certain.” He raised a hand. “Farewell for now,” he said, before snapping his fingers.
The group found themselves disoriented as the world changed in an instant, and they were standing outside the golden oak. The faint glow of the rising sun glimmered on the horizon.
“Well, that was interesting,” Pensword noted urbanely. “I worry. Will Hammer Strike react to us here? Or does stuff that happen in there happen without anypony knowing, like a dream forgotten in the morning?”
“We can worry about that later. For now, Luna needs some treatment, and I need sleep,” Grif noted as he replaced his disguise quickly, while Luna shifted to a more injured New Moon.
“What do you need me to do to help? Seeing as you are missing the armor we had in that other place, I hope we can keep it for next time.” He handed over his flintlock to the Earth Pony. “For safekeeping. There’s no way the Ponies in town would let me keep it, and we don’t want this falling into the wrong hooves.”
“Come into town later.” Yvetal yawned. “I’ll see if I can’t brew up a few healing draughts for you.”
“For now, let’s all get some sleep.” Gabriel yawned as he and New Moon headed for the golden oak. Tomorrow was another day.
“Send me a note when you’re ready to get treated. If you have trouble coming to town, I’ll come to you,” Yvetal assured them. Then he saluted and trotted slowly back toward the inn.
Blade Feather settled down into the ground by the warm fire and dozed, a tent over his head. Gabriel had placed the mark of the monster hunters around his neck and on the bag he rested a hoof over. Hopefully, no one would mess with him while he slept now. “Faust, Sleipnir, and the Moonlight guide us all in this endeavor,” he muttered. Then he closed his eyes and let the sleep come.
Extended Holiday Ch 135: To Know One’s Self Act 21
“So, that was a hot mess,” Gabriel noted as he and New Moon trekked through the Everfree. It was later in the day. They had slept, eaten, and New Moon had gotten some treatments for her wounds. Now the duo were on a minor job in the Everfree hunting creatures that fit the description of a hidebehind, a dark figure that hid behind trees and other objects, then jumped to attack unsuspecting victims. Both monster hunters had donned specialized glasses with mirrors covering half the lenses to alert them when they found their quarry.
“Indeed. I hadn’t expected us to be at such a disadvantage,” New Moon noted. “Hopefully, our next journey will be more successful.”
“How do you feel about what we’ve been told?” Gabriel asked her.
“This Igor is a mystery. His Velvet Room and this cognitive world aren’t like dreams. They’re harder, much more substantial, trickier to work with. I wish I had brought my hammer.”
“You think Meteor Impact would have made a difference?”
“Hammer Strike is a great smith, but he finds secrets he doesn’t fully understand infuriating. Our moon steel is an art only we can create, and its mystery, I feel, would give it some merit in his subconscious.”
“And what about Golden Oak?”
“He is … strange. Such a different character, and yet, in his happiness and contentedness, I see bits and pieces of the Hammer Strike I knew long ago.”
Gabriel nodded as he reached for one of his silver daggers. A dark blob had appeared in his vision. “We’ll carry this on later. Get ready. I think it’s time.”
Meanwhile, back in Ponyville, Feather Blade was working on sharpening knives in the small camp that he had set up behind Golden Oak’s home. He frowned each time he heard a Pegasus flying overhead or hoof steps near the square. He wasn’t sure if he was protected right now, but he had a gut feeling that if he wasn’t careful, he could land with more fines or jail time for either weapon possession, slipping into Thestral behavior, or some other thing to remind him that he didn’t belong here. He added another note to his rapidly growing list of complaints and suggestions to give to Celestia at a later date.
The clopping grew louder, and Feather Blade rose his head to see a familiar white Unicorn wearing an alchemist’s smock and a pair of saddle bags. “Hello there!” he called with a wave as he approached the tree.
“Oh,” Feather Blade sighed as he released some of the tension in his limbs, “it’s only you. I thought it’d be the mayor or somepony speaking for her. If you’re looking for masters Gabriel and New Moon, they’re out on a hunt. They left me behind to prep their weapons for tomorrow.”
“The hunt is always on, isn’t it?” Yvetal sighed as he opened his saddle bags with his magic. “I have a few small tokens to offer them, no charge. A monster hunter saved my life once, a long time ago. It seems only fair that I pass the favor along.” Five bottles were lowered onto the ground, three red, and two blue. “The red ones are to aid with physical injuries and fatigue, while the blue will assist in recovering magical stamina. I know Gryphons and Earth Ponies don’t generally require such things, but I believe I recall Pegasi have a tendency to use their magic on a regular basis when dealing with the weather. Keep them, just in case.” He smiled kindly. “Worst case scenario, your masters will be able to sell the potions for a bit of coin in a pinch.”
“I will pass them along then, kind sir.” Feather Blade looked to the sky with a twitch of his wings. “Though It has been a lonely chore. Would you care to sit and rest your hooves a bit? I could use the company, to be honest. It seems I am not allowed to fly today. I don’t have the proper papers.”
“Proper papers? Since when has a Pegasus required papers to fly?”
“Because flying is for the weather patrol or those with the weather patrol’s approval. In other words, if you are part of the weather team, even if once a month, you get to fly. No weather team, no flying. I can fly in the Everfree or outside of town limits, but I am ground bound here, and that comes from the weather patrol leader’s mouth. I think this is something enforced only when a Pegasus they don’t like shows up. It would force them to move along quickly.
“Well, that doesn’t sound very fair,” Yvetal frowned.
“Hmm. Sounds like I know who not to sell to next,” Yvetal murmured as he rubbed a hoof under his chin. “I don’t take kindly to bullies.”
“Well, good luck there. Just don’t burn your bridges,” Feather Blade muttered.
“Oh, I can handle myself well enough.” Yvetal smiled as he drew closer and sat down by the Pegasus. “So, why don’t you tell me a little about yourself? It’ll help to pass the time, and my business isn’t too pressing at the moment.”
“I guess I have the time.” Feather Blade smiled. “Why not?”
Gabriel knocked hard on the inn door as New Moon held the bundle on her back. Several bloodstained sheets of cloth were wrapped around a vaguely equine figure. “Mayor, come on out! The monster’s dead!”
The mayor stepped out and looked confusedly at the bundle. “You … you caught it?” Her eyes widened as she gaped. “I … well, I suppose that’s good, then.” She smiled. “Do you have a rate?”
“Do not attempt to play me, Madam Mayor. The bounty was set at seventy bits, and seventy bits we shall take.” Gabriel’s expression was blank.
“We misfiled the rate book for hunters,” she answered truthfully, “but I’ll up it to seventy five bits, if you dispose of the creature,” she said as she eyed the bag warily.”.
“Done!” Gabriel nodded, holding out his talons.
She placed her hoof over the talons. “Just go. Oh, and tell your servant that he owes the town one bit for flying without the weather leader’s permission.”
“And tell your weather patrol Pony he owes the church of Sleipnir twenty-three bits for interfering with the sacred order,” Gabriel returned.
She raised a brow. “Say … what?”
“That ‘servant,’ as you call him, has been inducted into the Order of the Monster Hunters as sanctioned by the crown and both the churches of Faust and Sleipnir. His life has been signed away to keep yours alive. If flying should be deemed necessary, then it is Sleipnir’s will that he fly. Today, he was making sure my equipment was in top order. I have found evidence that a kobold colony may be spawning in the far south of the Everfree. Have you ever seen a kobold before, mayor?” He only stopped briefly. He knew the answer. Naturally, there were no kobolds in Equestria. They needed a much drier climate, and thus only bothered the southernmost reaches of the country on the rarest of occasions.
“They are large, filthy reptilian beasts. They stand on two legs and gnash their terrible teeth. Their tails secrete a paralytic, which they use to take you back to their nests and feed you to their thousands of screaming putrid spawn. But if you would prefer that my assistant not make the necessary preparations to destroy the nest, before it takes root, then I will pay your fine. However, if you do not wish to be eaten by a thousand tiny squirming mouths, then you will take every action committed by us as though it where the will of Sleipnir himself. Am I understood?” he asked. He stood at his full height looking down at her as the wide brim of his hat cast a shadow over his glowing blue eyes.
“I shall….” She shivered at the gaze, then tried again. “I will endeavor to inform the weather leader of this information as soon as I can, and personally pay the fine from my own pocket.”
“You have my appreciation,” Gabriel nodded, even as he kept his tone perfectly level. “Now, if you could see your way to pay us, we have many more preparations to make.”
“Give this to the treasurer.” She gave Gabriel his receipt. “He should be in his office. He’ll make sure you get the proper payment.”
“Good day to you, Mayor.” Gabriel tapped the brim of his hat, took the receipt, and turned to leave.
New Moon managed to hold back her snicker, until they were out of earshot. “Laying it on a little thick, weren’t you?”
“Well, if they didn’t know that a hidebehind was amorphous, they wouldn’t know kobolds were small cowering little creatures who can’t survive this far north. Perhaps it will keep them from causing trouble in the future.” Gabriel gave her a wink as he transferred the ‘corpse’ onto his back and handed her the receipt. “Less likely to claim it’s a forgery, if you bring it in.”
She nodded, taking the paper and heading for the treasury as Gabriel made a beeline for the tree.
“Feather Blade, get the fire ready,” he called as he got close.
Feather Blade looked up from the fire. His fur was sopping wet. “A foal dumped a pale of water on me,” he groused. “Oh, and Yvetal dropped off some supplies for you to use in your future hunts, while you were out.”
“I don’t think you’ll be having too much trouble in the future, once word gets around,” Gabriel said as he tossed his burden into the flames, the cloth burning away to reveal a roughly shaped log.
“Oh? And why is that? I take it your hunt was successful, given the way you were smiling before.”
Gabriel nodded, “You could say I put the fear of Sleipnir into the mayor,” he chuckled.
“I wish I could of have seen that.” Feather Blade replied with a dark chuckle. “I just wonder how it went from this to what we knew before, you know?”
“Same say it went from segregation to acceptance, back home.” He looked at Feather Blade. “People started speaking up, and Celestia started listening.”
“Then I shall have start speaking up or leaving papers to help change the world,” Feather Blade answered.
“Let's keep our mark on history small right now, Feather Blade. Remember, we have a more important mission to focus on.”
“Very well,” Feather Blade sigheed.
Gabriel smiled gently. “Glad we have that settled. Now let's make up some food, before the others get here.” He retrieved a pot from their equipment. “Could you get me some water, please?”
“Right away.” Feather Blade took the pot and looked up. “Am I allowed to harvest from the clouds now, or do I still need to get it from the stream?”
“I don’t think you’ll have any more trouble flying”
“Sweet!” Pensword was gone in an instant as his exultant cry echoed on the wind. He returned five minutes later with a grin almost as wide as Cheshire’s and a pot full of rain water. “Here you are.”
Gabriel nodded as he placed the pot over the fire. He retrieved several bundles from his bag, unwrapped some meat, and began tearing off chunks, before tossing them into the water, followed by different vegetables and a sprinkle of salt. “Are you going to be okay for another night?”
“I’ll survive. I’m just lonely. I can handle the cold and the winds and nature. I just wish I had someone to talk through the days with sometimes. It’s strange hearing nothing but the wild animals about.”
We’ll be home soon enough,” Gabriel offered. “And things will be better.”
“That is something I am very much looking forward to.”
The group once again stood in Hammer Strike’s cognitive world on the pathway leading to the castle deep in the Everfree forest. Behind them stood a darkness that would lead them once more into the waking world, and to the left of the path, a blue door stood with the symbol of the Velvet Room. Any equipment that they had from their previous run through his castle was missing from their person, except for the Drop of Dreams that Vital held on to.
“So, got any ideas for how to get in unnoticed this time?” Vital asked.
“Let's go into the room first,” Grif noted, heading towards the blue door.
“Sounds like a plan. I want to know what happened to the equipment from last time, anyways,” Pensword agreed.
Soft clicks could be heard as they entered the Velvet Room. Igor was tapping his talons against the desk, while leaning against his other hand. “Welcome, to the Velvet Room,” he greeted in his usual manner. “What can I do to assist you on your journey?”
“Why did we lose almost all our equipment? Did we miss some save point?” Pensword asked.
Igor chuckled aloud. “You treat this as a game. It would only make sense that things from the cognitive world that hold so little power would be unable to enter the physical world.” His smile widened. “But with what progress you have made, a new room has opened up in the Velvet Room,” he finished, gesturing to his right as the doorway next to his desk unlocked with a loud click. “I am certain it will prove quite useful to you all.”
Pensword raised a brow. “Really, really hard not to think like a video game,” he muttered, then repeated a mantra he felt he would be using for quite a while, “This is real life, not a video game.”
“So, what’s behind door number one?” Vital asked with a nervous smile.
Grif and Luna rolled their eyes as they approached the door, and Grif opened it.
The portal revealed several dummies and weapon racks lining the walls. Some of the dummies were garbed with familiar pieces of equipment, while a lone rifle stood in one of the racks. Blue curtains covered two windows in the room, maintaining the same soft light as the main room.
“Well, hello, armory,” Vital said as he raised his brow in surprise.
“Not much of an armory yet,” Grif noted as he fitted his pauldrons.
“Maybe in time.” Luna nodded as she fitted her peytral and armored shoes.
Pensword reached for the rifle as Luna returned his pistol and box of ammo. “I should look into finding armor this trip around,” he muttered, “but I say we be more stealthy, and hit the enemies from behind. Then again, last time we did that, the threat level still went up, due to them not checking in.”
“So is this a damned if we do, damned if we don’t situation?” Vital asked.
“Not quite,” Grif noted. “In case you forgot, Luna can teleport us to the tower.”
“But it’ll take a lot out of her, won’t it?” Vital asked.
“Not if we get close to the wall,” Luna countered as she shook her head.
“With the alert level up, there will probably be sentries along the walls. We’ll need a plan to get in close without being noticed,” Vital noted.
“Unless it went down overnight as he felt us leave,” Pensword countered. “Then again, this is Hammer Strike we’re talking about, so it might have ratcheted up with us leaving.”
“Maybe a smoke bomb tied to an arrow, shot over the wall? It should get their attention away from us,” Grif suggested.
“We’d likely have to rig multiple bombs from different parts of the castle to thin out their forces. Otherwise, we’d probably still be seen,” Vital noted. “He knows a distraction when he sees one.”
“Still, I guess we need to find a map of the castle to help, and be more attuned to noises to know where enemies are and sneak past them this time around.” Pensword cracked his neck and flapped his wings a few times to warm himself up. “I’m ready.”
“Hey, Vital,” Grif started, “what about blinding them?”
“It would heighten the security, but in theory, it would give us the time we need to teleport in. And since he doesn’t know how we got in last time, the only way we’ll be caught is if he’s stationed a guard in the wing we teleport into,” Vital mused. “It could work.”
“Oh, there’ll be a gunner up there. We know that much. But if we’re quick, we’ll catch him off guard,” Grif noted. “So, Vital Spark. Solar flare?”
Vital Spark grinned. “How much magnesium do you need?”
“How much you got?”
“Let’s just say enough for a lot of flash bombs.”
Grif grinned viciously. “Well then, let’s see what we can do.” Over the next several minutes, the two worked taloned hand in hoof. The result was a slapdash, but workable, flaring arrow. “This will have to do. We don’t have a lot more time.”
“You made sure to double the dosage in each, right?” Vital asked. “Remember, things here are less effective than in the real world.”
“I put enough in here to blind most people permanently,” Grif said as he took out his bow. “If you have some kind of sunglasses spell, now would be the time.”
“A proper alchemist always comes prepared,” Vital said pointedly as he pulled out a thick set of dark tinted lenses, and levitated them onto Grif’s head. “As for you two, it’d probably be best to just not look up at the explosions,” he advised.
“Well then, here’s to Tien.” Grif took aim and fired the first arrow high. It traveled upwards over the courtyard, and well into the night air, before detonating in a large blast of light.
“Uh, Pegasus eyes deal with lighting flashes, but if you don’t think I can’t handle this, I won’t look up,” Pensword answered with a chuckle. “I do have Thestral eyes.”
“Pensword, lighting’s got nothing on this stuff. By the way, nice idea with the mini bombs inside, Grif,” Vital complimented as the Gryphon prepared the next arrow, and the alarm began to sound. “You ready, Luna?”
“Ready when you are,” Luna responded, her horn glowing.
“Three. Two. One.” Grif fired again, and the group sprinted to the wall. The moment they got within range, Luna teleported them to the tower just as another blast of light blanketed everything.
Inside the tower, a large leatherbound soldier stood rubbing at its eyes. It was the same type of guard that Grif had killed the previous night. The Gryphon quickly leaped forward and ripped the soldier’s throat out with his talons, letting it disappear into shadows.
“Okay, now that that's taken care of, is everybody ready for this?” Grif asked.
“Ready,” Pensword hissed in a low tone.
“I assume you want me to keep up the White Mage Protocol?” Vital asked.
“For now. How many floors should we go down this time?” Grif asked.
“However many it takes to find the map?”
“We’re probably only going to get one floor,” Grif noted.
“Should we try exploring the corridor from before, then? Or do you think Dreadlord over there would expect that?”
“I think we’ll probably be expected on that level.”
“So let’s explore someplace we won’t be expected,” Pensword suggested.
“The dungeons, perhaps?” Vital mused.
“It certainly is an original choice,” Luna responded as they took to the stairs and started heading down.
“Here’s hoping it’s not a nightmare,” Vital whispered as their hoofsteps clopped on the hard stone of the stairwell.
After a few minutes and one locked door, the group was greeted by the lowest level of the castle. The torches lining the hallways glowed a dim blue, barely revealing the hallway before them. The occasional clink of chains blown by a draft echoed mournfully back to them.
“Well … that’s depressing,” Vital noted. “Anybody got a torch?”
Pensword looked around. “Well, I am looking for one.”
Vital sighed. “Give me a minute.” He opened his saddlebags and pulled out a series of powders in individual pouches. After sorting through them, he pulled out three and returned the others, before pulling out an empty beaker. Next, he added the powders in equal parts, saving the extra for later, before inserting a stopper in the container and shaking it. “There. A chemical reaction to produce luminescence. It’s not as bright as a torch, but it’ll do for our immediate surroundings.”
“It should work,” Pensword agreed as he looked around. “However, at the moment, we appear to be in a hallway. Shall we find where the chains are, and explore down there first?”
As the four continued down the hall, the scent of blood began to reach their nostrils. Shadows writhed as they passed, and solid blocked stone gave way to barred cells. Bones littered the floors, and rats scurried back and forth, chewing to get at the marrow. The occasional groan or sigh would drift ghost-like through the air, punctuated from time to time by a shriek of pain.
“... Well, that’s encouraging,” Vital deadpanned.
“This … is unnerving,” Pensword said as he peered into the cells and shuddered at the sight of discarded wing joints and the occasional Pony skull. Others were covered in pulsing crystal, and others still reeked of burnt flesh and ash.
“I’ve seen worse,” Grif noted with a shrug. Luna nodded behind him.
“So, you ready to see worse? I mean, we haven’t even gotten to the torture chambers yet,” Vital noted.
“Just stay quiet,” Grif warned as they moved forward slowly.
As they drew nearer the end of the hall, the light began to shine more brightly through a riveted steel door that had been left open a crack. The churning of heavy metal gears and the hiss of liquid against searing metal assaulted their ears.
“Just tell me what I need to know.” The voice was dual toned, but all too familiar, it was a voice Vital Spark especially heard most days in New Unity. “And I’ll make sure to let you die nice and quickly.”
“Guys,” Vital shuddered, “if that’s who I think it is….”
“Less talking, more running,” Grif interrupted as Luna levitated Vital onto her back, and the three took to wing, speeding back to the stairs.
Pensword was in the rear as he was the slowest of the three flyers. His ears swiveled constantly, keeping a sharp lookout for any signs of pursuit.
“Okay, dungeon is a no-go,” Grif said as they piled into the stairwell, and he shut the door as quickly and quietly as possible behind them.
“Roger that. So, next floor up?” Pensword asked.
Grif nodded, and the group went up one more floor, entering the door they found there. The hallway was as empty as it had been the last time they had passed through. “Let's hope there’s no surprises,” Grif noted as they headed down the hall and along the left corner.
Vital shuddered. “Guys, if there’s a shadow Clover, then … what if there’s a shadow Trixie?”
“We’ll deal with it if it comes to that, but what I worry about is how he would view shadow us,” Pensword said.
“Not just us, Pensword,” Grif noted. He looked at Luna, who nodded.
“Shadow Celestia,” she agreed.
“Oh, Mew,” Pensword meeped.
“If I had to guess, these shadows are Hammer Strike’s interpretation of what we could be. If that’s the case, imagine Celestia with a darker taint, no caring, no holding back,” Grif said.
“So, assuming these shadows do exist, that means we’re going to have to fight our dark clones on top of Hammer Strike’s?” Vital asked.
“Yes, but I’m not as worried about those,” Grif replied.
“You’re worried about some Nightmare Nova or something, then? What about a Nightmare Moon, one that actually thinks tactically, like Luna?”
“Luna can beat Nightmare Moon easily,” Grif said nonchalantly.
“Wait … what?” Luna asked. Her voice trembled slightly.
“Relax, Luna. I have faith in you.”
“Yes, because your faith will be the advantage I need,” Luna said as she rolled her eyes.
“Eegads, she’s learned sarcasm! She’s surpassed me. I’m doomed!” Vital said dramatically, even as he kept his voice carefully controlled.
“Point is, this isn’t like we’ll be facing dark versions of us,” Grif noted. “We’ll be facing dark versions of how Hammer Strike sees us. And who knows us better, him or us?”
“In my experience? Him,” Luna answered bluntly.
“... You’re really the optimist in this, Luna,” Grif deadpanned.
“We shall see,” Pensword said. “How about this, Luna? I’ll set a wager with you. If it turns out that you’re right, and he knows us better than we know ourselves, next time I visit Earth, I’ll get you a large supply of Moon Pies. However, if we are right, and we know ourselves better than Hammer Strike, you’ll have to give up one bottle of moonshine to the Thestrals in New Unity.”
“Very well, Pensword,” Luna agreed, “but I should warn you. I still feel this could go poorly.”
“Considering we carry all our wounds with us from this place, and we’re dealing with super tough bad guys that are made several times scarier by the fact that they’re actually competent? Yeah, odds are things will probably go wrong at some point.” Vital shrugged. “Best we can do is go forward and try to avoid said problems.”
“Stealth mission, then,” Pensword whispered back.
“Eeyup,” Vital agreed.
“Someone's coming.” Grif lifted his head, catching two seperate sets of steps coming their way. He drew his sword and reached for a knife. Just as the others got prepared, two of the lesser knights they’d fought before came around the corner. The only difference was a glowing red eye peering through the visor of the helmet. “Well that's great,” he growled. “Same great enemy, even less room to dodge.”
Pensword had taken to hiding in the shadows of the rafters in the hallway, waiting for a chance to attack, if needed.
“Keep your eye trained on them. Don’t fire, unless it’s absolutely necessary,” Grif said, not even looking at Pensword. He charged forward and swung for the neck of the first knight. Unfortunately, the armored hand lifted, grabbing Grif’s sword before it could make contact. Grif moved in with the opposite hand, stabbing for the chest. Fortunately, the attack came fast enough to get past the knight’s defense, albeit just barely. The knife skated across the metal for much longer than Grif would have liked, before finding an imperfection, and pushing through with a screech into the knight's chest. An angry swing from the knight sent Grif flying into the wall. Grif gasped, trying to catch his breath.
Pensword didn’t make a sound as he watched. Worry creased his forehead as he tracked the guards’ movements. However, at the moment, he didn’t have anything that could fight back, without drawing attention to the other guards in the castle. To fire the rifle here would just be inviting more trouble.
The second knight charged forward with a roar, and Vital Spark let it come. He stood stalwartly for a few seconds, then shot a concentrated beam of magic onto the floor to coat the knight’s path in ice. He jumped out of the way as he continued the stream right to the tower door, where a series of jagged icicles as wide as stalactites and sharp as swords awaited the assailant. It slammed into the wall at full speed with a resounding crash, and a cry of pain echoed from its helmet as its left arm was completely impaled through the joint of its armor, leaving the limb all but useless.
Luna charged her horn, and blue light enveloped her armored horseshoes. This would be more effective with a direct access to the moon, but the enchantment would serve for now. She charged forward, avoiding the ice on the floor entirely by jumping to the wall and running perpendicular to the ground. She built up her magic before her in a wall of solid energy, which she proceeded to slam against the first knight with all the force she could muster. The magic shattered against it’s armor, but not before the force slammed into the hilt of the knife still sticking from it’s chest plate. With the sound of shrieking metal and a devastating crunch, the dagger nailed the rest of the way into the knight's chest and through its heart.
The second knight smashed his sword against the base of the icicle that had impaled it, breaking it off from the main wall, then turned about, searching for a better target. Its eyes fell on Pensword’s position in the rafters. It charged forward, then leapt into the air, bringing its sword down with a deadly stroke. Unfortunately for the knight, aerial maneuvers were second nature to the Pegasus. Pensword leaped into the air and rolled out of the way, dodging the blade completely. Not even a feather had been disturbed. He rose higher, floating near the top of the ceiling to try to remain out of the knight’s reach.
Vital Spark charged forward, drawing in the moisture from the air around him with his horn to form two lances. He stopped just far enough out of reach to avoid the knight’s range, then flung the lances through the air with all the force he could muster. Unfortunately for him, the weapons simply scraped against the armor, breaking off their tips, before landing uselessly on the floor.
Luna grabbed one of Grif’s knives from his belt within her magic. Her horn flashed several times as she added gravity and propulsion spells to the blade, before hurtling it towards the knight. The knife sailed through the air and punched through the neck of the knights armor, and it dropped with a sickening gurgle. As the knight burst into shadows, a small glass vial with a red fluid was left behind. Meanwhile, a blue orb and a red orb sat idly on the floor where the other knight had perished, alongside its shoulder plates.
Pensword slowly settled onto the ground. “So … what armor does everypony have?” He asked as he looked over the shoulder plates. He looked to Luna and her chest armor, then back to the new drop. “I guess I’ll take them this time.” Just as the armor had with Grif and Luna, the shoulder plates adjusted to suit Pensword’s exact measurements.
Grif coughed a bit as he slowly made his way over. “What do we have here?” he asked, reaching out to the red orb curiously. The second his talon made contact, the orb vanished, and the pain in his wounds ebbed in a soothing wave of relief. Luna grabbed the blue orb in her magic and gave a contented sigh as it dissolved, feeling her reserves filling to a more comfortable level.
“Grif … how are you able to move about so quickly? Didn’t you get your wind knocked out of you?” Pensword asked.
“I’ll be fine,” Grif said, deflecting the question. “Where to next?”
“Well, we can’t go up, and we certainly can’t go down, so I guess that just leaves us with forward, right?” Vital asked.
“I guess so.” Grif nodded, and they headed down the hall with a cautious stride. Eventually, they came to a three-way stop. A tall ornate door stood to the right with a bright crystal mounted on its top. The door to the left was squatter, stouter, and broader, but otherwise had no distinguishable markings. The one down the middle was a rounded door surrounded by an arch with a large keystone at the top.
“So, where to next, guys? Do we draw straws?” Vital asked.
“I say we got to the door in the middle,” Pensword answered
“Grif? Luna?” Vital asked.
“Honestly, after that fight, I’m not sure we have much choice. “The middle seems the best bet,” Grif said.
“Then I guess middle it is. Same formation?”
“Yes,” Pensword chirped.
“Let's go, then. By the way, who picked up that vial?” Grif asked.
“Oh! My bad.” Vital grasped it in his magical grip, and levitated it over to his saddlebags. “I’ll keep it in here for later.”
Grif pushed open the door slowly, peering into the room, only to determine there were no hostiles. Inside was a small study with an oak desk with drawers sitting behind a blue throw rug with a gold trim, a small bookshelf on the left side of the room, and a painting of Hammer Strike on the right wall.
“Well, this can’t be good,” Grif noted.
“I concur,” Pensword whispered. His ears twitched nervously as he sought to hear any hoofsteps. “Should we leave or look around?”
“If we pull the looking, we can’t touch anything. I mean, this has to be his office, right?” Vital whispered.
“Yeah,” Grif said as they pressed further in, “so we’ll let the Unicorns handle picking things up.”
“... I swear, if any of these things are boobytrapped, I’ll haunt you for the rest of your life, Grif,” Vital growled as he stepped over towards the painting first, and used his magical aura to shift it aside.
“I can live with that,” Grif chuckled.
When nothing but wall faced them, Vital returned the picture, then turned towards the desk itself. “So, Grif, what’s it gonna be? Is the big prize behind drawer number one, drawer number two, or drawer number three? Our television audience is standing by,” he said in the cheesiest impersonation of a gameshow host he could manage.
“Drawer number two,” Grif said after a long thought.
Vital’s magic surrounded the handle, and he pulled it out slowly to reveal a small box with a pistol engraved on its cover. “Huh. And cue the Zelda soundtrack.”
“Yeah, but it’s the chest that gives you something useless,” Grif noted
“So who wants to open it? Whoever does ends up keeping what’s inside, right?”
“Vital, it doesn’t look familiar to you?” Grif asked
“Looks familiar to me,” Pensword answered.
“It’s a pistol. Don’t know what caliber.” Vital shrugged.
“Pensword, pull out that ammo you got earlier,” Grif said.
Pensword did as he was asked.
“Now what do you notice about the box containing your rifle ammo, and this box with a pistol engraved on it?”
“They are the same, so… that means that there will be a magic cloud, if we open the box.”
Grif nodded. “And it’s not going to have flintlock shot or revolver bullets, which means we can’t really use it,” he noted.
“So, we put it back then.”
Grif proceeded to slam his head into the wall. “No! You put them in the pack of whoever has the most carrying space, and save them for later. If we need the space, then we drop them.” He sighed. “I miss the war.”
“Right … adventure game rules,” Pensword said with a sheepish smile. “Vital, you want to hold onto the box? You have the least amount of stuff.”
“Actually, I have more than the rest of you with the materials I’m carrying, but I’ve got room, so why not?” He shrugged as he picked up the box in his magic and stuck it into one of his saddlebags. “So, which one next?”
“The bottom one,” Luna said.
The drawer pulled out to reveal little more than piles of paperwork. “... Good to see some things never change,” Vital Spark noted dryly. “And drawer number one.” He pulled, and the lock jiggled. “Should we try to pick it or leave it be?”
“Or we could, I don’t know, look for the key?” Grif said, rolling his eyes. “Seriously, have none of you ever stolen information before?”
“Not really,” Pensword answered.
“Okay, look. Pensword, search the plants. Vital, check under the rug. I’ll check the bookshelf,” Grif said. “Luna, you keep an eye on the door.”
Pensword nodded as he walked over to the plants and began to sift through the leaves. He ran a wing around the bowl, the water catcher on the bottom, and the dirt between the plant and the wall of the vase. A quick levitation, and the rug was hovering at desk height, revealing little more but wooden floorboards. Grif swept through the levels of the bookshelf in quick precise movements. At the top shelf, he moved a book, and heard something metallic drop. He moved the book aside, and revealed a key. “There we go,” he said, grabbing it.
“So much for letting the Unicorn do all the work,” Vital said with a cynical smile.
“Competency takes priority here,” Grif said as he made his way to the desk. He unlocked the drawer and opened it. “Well now, what do we have here?” He pulled out a sleek object. It almost looked like a feather at first, but on closer inspection, it seemed to be made out of crystal.
“I don’t know,” Pensword answered.
“Something’s not right here,” Hammer Strike’s voice echoed softly around them. “Materials and substances exist here, but … I don’t know what they are, despite this being my own mind.”
“Oh dear,” Pensword muttered.
Grif drew a small velvet bag from his pack and gently placed the crystal feather inside it. Then he placed it deep in his bag.
“So, next room?” Vital Spark asked.
“Yeah.” Grif nodded, closing the drawer and locking it. Then he handed Vital the key. “Put it back exactly how it was.”
“Which book?” Vital asked. Once Grif had pointed out the proper one, he levitated the book down, and adjusted the key on a clever peg that had been hidden jutting out from the pages inside. Then he returned the book to its proper place and nodded. “Let’s get going.”
“Left room now?” Pensword asked
“Yeah.” Grif nodded. “Might as well.” They exited the office and turned to the door that had been on the left when first they arrived at the intersection, pushing into it with as much care as possible. However, the caution proved unnecessary, since the room was almost an exact copy of the previous room they were in, except for the locked drawer. Pensword moved to check the potted plant again.
“Grif, you want to check the desk, while Luna watches the door?” Pensword asked.
“Guess I’ll check behind the Hammer Strike picture again,” Vital said with a shrug. “Also, man, does he have one of these hanging in every office or something?” he asked as the painting shifted aside.
“It’s his mind. Probably his super-ego expressing itself. Let’s be thankful it’s the super-ego,” Grif noted as he opened the first drawer, “and not the id.”
“That would be scary.” Pensword shuddered. After a quick search, they discovered nothing of significance and returned to the hall. “So, last room, then. The right room, right?” he asked.
“Choose the right, when a choice is placed before you, as the old song goes,” Vital said with a wink. “Um, say, guys … shouldn’t we be staring at the last door right now?”
“Yeah ... this doesn’t seem right,” Pensword answered as the party stared down the long hallway back to the stairwell.
“Maybe the right door?” Grif asked turning to the door that had been on their right when they first entered the room. Opening the doorway revealed the entrance hall to the castle with a new duo of guards standing by the base of the stairs watching the front door.
“... I hate these kinds of puzzles,” Vital sweatdropped.
“Status report, entrance hall team,” a voice came from one of the knights. The guard closest to them sheathed his weapon, before pulling out a small walkie talkie. “Nothing to report.”
“I assume we’re going to want to try to get that?” Vital whispered as they pulled their heads back behind the door.
“I agree, and get this puzzle right,” Pensword said.
“We might be able to take them out,” Grif mused as he looked over the situation. “There are only two, and they seem to be the weaker kind.”
“I’ll hang back. I don’t have a weapon that could take them out without drawing attention to our location,” Pensword responded.
“An axe makes loud noises?” Grif asked.
“I think he meant the gun,” Vital pointed out. “We’ll need to go after the one with the walkie talkie first. Otherwise, the danger level’s going to go right up.”
“Actually we need to kill them both at the same time, or within fifty-nine milliseconds of each other,” Grif noted. “Anything more, and we make needless noise with a fight.”
“How do we do that?” Pensword asked back.
“Luna, how precise is your teleport under calm conditions?”
“Why?” Luna asked warily.
“They’re unguarded and alone. Could you teleport something right into their chest?”
“I suppose,” Luna said, after some consideration. “That is a brutally efficient use for the spell I hadn’t thought of,” she admitted. Grif gave her two wooden stakes, and both vanished in a flash of light. The two knights stiffened suddenly, clutching their chests, before collapsing. The left knight faded into shadow, leaving nothing behind, while the right left its longsword, chestplate, and a familiar small blue bead.
“Aww. How come we never get the walkie talkies?” Vital sighed as he levitated the bead over to his satchel. “So who’s taking the spoils this time?”
“Well, I’m the only one here who can use a longsword,” Grif noted as he picked up said sword, which adjusted to fit his size instantly. “Normally, I’d take the chestplate, but if it’s the same quality as those pauldrons, it’s probably not going to help in open combat. You take it, Pensword.”
“Yes! Chestplate,” Pensword hissed happily as he took the armor. “This will be good. It’s always better to carry some protection.”
Grif scanned the room, looking for all the different exits. There was the front entrance, side doors leading down more hallways, and the stairwell near the center of the room leading to the second floor.
“We seriously need to find a map for this place,” Vital whispered.
“Agreed.” Pensword nodded his head.
“So … we going to try divining or just spin the bottle to pick the way?” Vital asked.
“Someone else pick,” Grif said.
“How about the closest side door?” Pensword asked. When he heard nothing against it, he walked over to the door and pushed it open with a hoof, then stared. “Grif … Pinkie Logic. Pinkie Logic.” When the others looked into the hallway, they saw another hallway, this one lined by stained glass on either side with five doorways on either side. A steady light poured into the hall as they stared.
“... Something’s telling me this is going to be a long night,” Vital Spark groaned.
Three hours later, the group were stalking down a random hallway. Grif and Luna were feeling the pain of many smaller wounds from numerous engagements. The party had agreed they’d leave for the night, after checking one more room for the ever illusive map.
“Last room,” Grif noted as they came up to the door.
“Well, at least I got a war axe,” Pensword said as he took a stance at the side to help watch the party’s backs.
The room was similar to the offices they’d found previously along the way in the beginning of their journey; however, this one was larger by comparison. Bookshelves stood on both sides of the room, along with containers, chests, and a couple of additional desks. A large oak desk stood in the center of the room, refined almost to perfection, with a large throne-like chair behind it.
Pensword looked to the door. “I’ll keep watch this time. You all check for drops.”
“I don’t like this,” Grif said, looking around.
“This room is … too full to be empty,” Luna nodded.
“And by empty, you mean unused?” Vital asked.
Luna nodded again. “While the rooms have been mostly empty, they’ve always contained spartan furnishings. There is too much happening in this room for it to be the same.”
“So I’ll watch the doors, you start going through the room,” Pensword repeated himself.
“The point of our being here is to not be noticed, right? If we steal from here, wouldn’t that raise some red flags?” Vital pointed out.
The door suddenly shattered inward, scattering wood shrapnel everywhere. “Trust me when I say this. You raised red flags when my knights were going missing,” Hammer Strike’s shadow growled faintly as the torches around them grew darker. “So, you’re the ones tampering with this place. I’d say I’m surprised, but you always find some method of getting in the way of things.”
Pensword backed away from the door as swiftly as he could manage, without drawing a reaction out of the evil Pony.
“Well, this is several different shades of not good,” Grif said, taking an involuntary step back.
“In short, we’re pretty much screwed, aren’t we?” Vital asked.
“Yes. Now I get to decide what to do with you four. After all, a quick death wouldn’t feel right.” The shadow smiled as the shadows around him collected onto his back, taking the shape of a greatsword. Before they could take any action, he had drawn it and took a wide arcing slash at the group, letting darkness consume their vision.
“Well now, I wasn’t expecting something like this to take place,” a familiar voice echoed through the darkness. After a moment, their vision began to clear, revealing a soft blue carpet with its gold trim leading up to a familiar desk and figure. “Welcome, to the Velvet Room.”
“Um … not that I’m not grateful here, but … what the buckjust happened?” Vital exclaimed.
“It would appear that the shadow was able to find and contain your collective presence within his mind,” Track spoke to the group as she opened up her book. “In other words, you fell for a trap collectively.”
“So we need smaller groups?” Grif asked.
“It would appear to be the best option before you.”
“Well, we are learning each day; however, I would suggest we look into the village next time. Might give us an easier time.”
“The village you speak of is the collective consciousness of the general population.” Track closed her book and returned her gaze to the group. “Be warned. While the shadows are weaker than those in Hammer Strike’s mind, there are more in numbers.”
“... And now I feel like we’re stuck between a rock and a hard place,” Vital sighed.
“The journey ahead of you will no doubt be difficult.” Igor glanced between the members of the group. “I am certain you will find your way.”
“Thank you,” Pensword said.
“So, the less people, the less likely we are to be sensed in there?” Grif asked
Track gave a quick nod.
“How few are you suggesting, exactly?” Vital asked.
“Teams of two are your best bet,” Track noted. “Less would be better, but the dangers that are present wouldn’t allow it to be that easy.”
“Well, I think for now, we should head back,” Grif noted. “We’re in no shape to head into new territory.”
“At least we didn’t take so much damage this time, right?” Vital offered weakly.
“That is a good thought. We did do better on day 2,” Pensword agreed. “Still,” he yawned, “I think we should get some sleep, then reconvene tomorrow to plan. For now, we all need rest.”
“What time is it out there, anyways?” Vital asked.
“I would say it is about thirty minutes past sunrise in the waking world.”
“Then we definitely should get going,” Grif nodded.
“Agreed.”
“Until next time, Igor,” Vital said with a smile and a wave. “And thank you, Track.”
“Until next time,” Igor chuckled as they departed.
Luna held her sword carefully in her magic as she scanned the area around them. Two days had passed, and after much deliberation, the group had decided to split their efforts. Luna had taken Pensword and headed for the village, while Grif and Vital Spark set off to begin mapping and scouting what they could of the castle. To that end, Grif had given Luna one of the long swords they’d managed to gain during their last visit, and currently, the two were making their way through the strange village to see what advantage, if any, they might find there.
“This feels empty, like a ghost town,” Pensword whispered as his ears twitched in hopes of catching any sounds other then he and Luna. “Also, should we try any of the doors?”
Luna nodded. “You pick a door. I’ll keep watch”
Pensword nodded and approached the cottage. The day before, they’d discovered it belonged to the head of the weather team, and decided that might not be a bad place to begin. He walked up to the door and tested it gently.
The door gave way easily, and opened to reveal a wavering image that flickered between regular Earth Pony architecture and the fluffy white cloud of a typical Pegasus dwelling. The lower portion of the house was mostly bare, save for the entry to the kitchen off to one side. The majority of the furnishings, what few there were, had been shoved hastily onto a loft in the upper reaches of the house.
Pensword stepped cautiously into the home, keeping his ears perked and his body ready to act at the slightest disturbance. After a brief scan, he signaled Luna to join him. She entered, and closed the door behind her, standing guard, while he walked to the kitchen in search of any clues he could locate there. The shifting from cloud home to Earth Pony architecture proved disorienting, but not unmanageable.
Unfortunately, the kitchen yielded nothing of interest, so he turned his attentions to the loft. He sorted through the hammock, a few trunks, and even some cloud cubbies when the room shifted to the other architecture. Unfortunately nothing of use could be found. When he turned back towards the main hall to report, though, a familiar-looking Pegasus greeted him with piercing yellow eyes and a vicious grin.
“So,” the Weather Master’s shadow chuckled, “we have the half breed breaking and entering, do we?”
“Yes. We’re looking for information on how to stop a monster. We thought this place might yield some answers.”
“No answers here for you, nightmare spawn.” The shadow sneered. “I’ll have to report you. Monster hunter or no, breaking and entering without proper cause, well, that’s against the law now, isn’t it? And I’d be within my rights to defend myself and my property now, wouldn’t I? You won’t be able to set one filthy hoof in this town again. My boys will run you out.” He chuckled then as he bore his teeth. “Unless, of course, you can beat me properly.” His wings tensed. “But I think we both know that’s not going to happen.” Then he rocketed forward.
Pensword jumped aside and whacked the Weather Master firmly on the back of the head, only to recoil, after a powerful buck knocked the wind out of his barrel.
Luna watched as Pensword grit his teeth and seized the shadow’s extended leg, before it had a chance to recover. He used the momentum to fling the Weather Master over his head and out of the loft. He followed up by dive bombing the Weather Master, adding his own momentum to prevent the shadow from breaking the fall. The Weather Master landed with a resounding crash, and growled like a wild animal, before flailing with his hooves. A stray hoof caught Pensword across the jaw, while another clipped the joint at his hip, leaving Pensword to bear the pain, and allowing the shadow the opportunity to break out of Pensword’s hold. The Weather Master flipped onto his hooves and bucked again, but Pensword was fast enough to evade the blow, albeit barely. The wind from the inertia rustled his mane.
Luna narrowed her gaze, and prepared to step in, when she finally saw what she’d been waiting for. Pensword’s eyes slitted as he snorted angrily. He launched himself into the air, and the Weather Master followed, but Pensword was expecting this. He snarled as he dove at the shadow. The Weather Master sneered, thinking to avoid what he thought to be the charge of a maddened beast. It was a mistake that would cost him. Pensword banked expertly, after the dodge, veering up to strike the shadow with a vicious uppercut that sent him spinning in the air. Just as he righted himself, Pensword rammed him in the withers, effectively pinning his enemy’s wing joint to limit flight mobility. Moments later, they crashed into the floorboards with enough force to shake the house. The shadow looked up from his place on the ground dazedly, and Pensword loomed over him with eyes that practically glowed with malice. He grabbed the Weather Master with both hooves and locked his jaws around his jugular. He felt the sensitive skin quiver under the grip of his fangs, heard the frightened thrum of his opponent’s heartbeat. Just a little more pressure, and he’d rip the Weather Master’s throat out.
“Parley, Parley….” The shadow wept. “Please, don’t kill me. I’ll be nice. I’ll stop the bullying. Just please, please!” He sobbed uncontrollably, and Pensword’s keen eyes honed in on the rigid cartilage of a hoof-shaped brand. “If … if we could just have our clouds again, the freedom to take wing, we’d be so much better.”
“What do you mean?” Luna asked with narrowed gaze.
“The … the law constrains us. We … we can’t fly, except when our schedules allow. The rest of the time, we’re ground bound. Keep the law, stretch our wings. Put a feather out of line, and we pay.” He shuddered. “Haven’t we paid enough?” he wept to himself. “Unicorns get it, too. Anypony that doesn’t give her her way. The Apple Family’s too busy tending their orchards. They don’t see what’s going on, and we can’t do anything without proof.”
“Is that so?” Luna hissed.
“My team. This … this is the last place they have left. I can’t let them down.” As the Shadow spoke, a glowing white orb appeared out of the floorboards. “Please, most of them were just foolish colts. They don’t deserve to go to prison.”
The slits in Pensword’s eyes slowly returned to his regular pupils as the glow faded, and he released his grip on the Weather Master’s throat, though he kept his hoof pressed against the Pony’s throat to hold him down. “Answer me this, Weather Master. Why do you treat me so harshly, when you yourself face such treatment?”
“I … I–.”
Pensword didn’t give him the time to finish. “Swear to me that you will never mistreat another Pony as long as you live, and teach your weather patrol to do the same. Do this, and we’ll help you. Don’t, and you bring this punishment on yourself.” He lifted his hoof off the shadow’s throat, so it could stand. “Do I make myself clear?”
The shadow nodded vigorously. “I’ll do what you ask. I promise!” He motioned over to the orb. “Take this. It’ll help you on your way.” With that said, the shadow vanished in a whisp of black smoke. “And thank you,” his voice sighed as a last farewell.
Pensword reached over with a hoof, and touched the orb. It glowed brightly for a moment, before shattering into fragments of light that gradually disappeared. A piece of parchment hovered in the air before him with the town’s official seal in its upper reaches, a seal he had seen closely guarded in a safe in the mayor’s tap room. He glanced over the contents of the letter, and his body began to tremble. With a shaking hoof, Pensword put the letter inside his armor. “I think we’re done here,” he said hoarsely. The trembling increased, until he felt the reassuring bulk of Luna’s frame against his side.
“You handled it very well,” she praised gently. “Don’t allow yourself to be afraid. It is a gift, just like any other. Control it, and it will serve you well.”
The trembling eased as Pensword took a few more calming breaths. He snorted once, then nodded grimly. “That wasn’t the only thing, but thank you, all the same.” He sputtered to clear his head. “Next home?”
Luna gave a satisfied nod and smiled kindly. “Yes. It seems there is more going on in this settlement than we first anticipated.”
Pensword nodded. “Agreed. It seems Hammer Strike isn’t the only one who needs to be saved.” His eyes hardened with determination. “Let’s make this the Ponyville it’s supposed to be.”
“Yes, let’s,” Luna agreed as she lit up her horn, and opened the door to the house.
“So, how precise is your freezing ability?” Grif asked as they finished scouting the outer wall of the castle. They hadn’t found a secondary entrance into the palace, after going over the entire perimeter.
“How precise do you need?” Vital countered as they huddled in the shadows cast on one of the corners of the walls beneath the parapets.
“Well, the moat means that the stones beneath the water line likely have water seeping into the mortar. Water expands, when it’s frozen. You think it would be possible to freeze a section beneath the surface, until it creates an opening large enough to squeeze through?”
“An opening like that would be risky. One stone misplaced the wrong way, and a whole portion of wall could come toppling down on top of us. Even if we survived, we’d have the whole castle after us, and then we’d be stuck in the Velvet Room again.” Vital shook his head. “It’s not worth it.”
It’s not like we can go in through the front door,” Grif pointed out. “And last I checked, you aren't cleared to teleport yourself, nevermind the two of us.”
“Well, this is Hammer Strike we’re talking about. He has plans within plans within plans. Do you really think he’d just allow there to be only one entrance?”
“You think he’d make it so anybody but him could access it?” Grif returned.
“Him and perhaps his top advisor?” Vital pointed out. “You are basically his war chief.”
“And that's precisely why he wouldn’t let me know, unless it became necessary.” Grif shook his head. “Even if I did know, he’d already have said entrance under heavy guard.”
“There has to be a way to get in somehow,” Vital insisted. “I mean, it’s his mind, after all. Nobody’s mind can be totally sealed off, no matter how hard they try.”
“Ideas?”
“Well, this is the embodiment of his darker side we’re dealing with. Maybe there’s an entrance that can only be found using thaumaturgy.”
“Thaumaturgy doesn't work that way,” Grif sighed.
“... Actually, that might work. What if we were to use thaumaturgy to try burrowing through one of the larger stones? It’d give us ammunition to use here, and let us get in safely. Well, relatively speaking.”
“It could work,” Grif agreed. “We’d better get to work, then. I don’t know when this shadow we’re hiding in will shift, and I’d rather not be exposed.”
“... Well, that didn’t work,” Vital groaned a few minutes later as he rubbed his head at the base of his horn. “Any other ideas, Grif?”
“Well, those windows give me an idea,” Grif said as he looked up. “Can you freeze the bars cold enough to turn fragile?”
“Easily. You realize we’d have to get far away from there as soon as possible, once we break in, though, right?”
“You’re assuming we’d be loud. I just need you to make the metal brittle enough that I can break it. The glass won’t make a sound.”
“How’re you going to super heat it?”
Grif pulled out his zippo, creating a small pressurised air stream with a finger. He placed it near the flame, and the fire took on an appearance not unlike a blowtorch. “I have to cheat a little with thaumaturgy, but it should work.”
Vital grinned. “Let’s do this.”
It didn’t take the pair all that long, once their plan of action had been chosen. True to the miracle of science, Grif used his makeshift blowtorch to superheat the bars at the tops and bottoms. Then Vital froze them with the coldest spell he could muster. After that, it was a simple matter of snapping them off and levitating them into Vital’s pack for later.
Next, Grif retrieved a device from his bag. It had a black suction cup with a piece of line connected to it. A sharp blade stood at the end of the line. Grif attached the suction cup to the window’s center and carefully cut a large circular hole with the blade. Once he was certain the suction cup was holding, he pulled out the glass and lowered it gently to the ground, making sure to keep it as close to the wall as possible to avoid being spotted from the parapet, and to try to keep the light from reflecting off of it.
With that job done, Vital Spark jumped up onto Grif’s back and braced himself, using his magic to maintain his balance, before finally climbing through the window as stealthily as he could manage. Grif followed closely behind.
“Where to?” Vital whispered.
“It seems like that's been decided,” Grif said, picking up a slip of paper.
‘I pulled away the guards, or else you two would be dead right now. Follow the hallway south, until you get to the red door, and we’ll settle this. I’ll be waiting - G’
“Looks like Hammer Strike knew I’d try this.” Grif gave a dry chuckle. “Sent the best person he could think of to set me up.”
“Well, you always did say you wanted a challenge. What greater challenge could there be than facing against another you?”
“Point. Anyway, it seems like things will be quiet for now. No need to rush, so if you see anything interesting on the way, let me know.”
“Like a treasure chest?”
Grif chuckled and rolled his eyes good-naturedly. “Sure, Vital.”
Forty minutes later, Grif and Vital approached the red door mentioned in the note. It was a large foreboding portal, intricately carved with scenes of bloody battles showing Gryphons and Ponies locked in eternal combat as the gods, both Gryphon and Pony, looked down impassively with neither pity nor remorse as their subjects made war in their names. It withheld no details, and nothing was glorified. Gold handles stood out against the red background. The right one was shaped like Hammer Strike at the army’s head. The second one stood in the form of Grif, only this version was older, with more scars and a menacing stare.
“Well, that’s inviting,” Grif quipped as he took in the door. “I guess it’s a less-than-optimistic depiction of the Third Gryphon War.”
“War is often pointless and petty. I guess this is just Hammer Strike’s opinion of it, or perhaps how he thinks you would perceive it?” Vital considered.
“Maybe. Who can tell?” Grif said as he put a hand on each handle and threw the doors open. The portal opened on a long descending slope that led into a massive stone structure shaped like an oval. The entirety of it was covered in large blocks of granite. Massive granite pillars held the roof up. Granite blocks traced the center, forming seating for unseen spectators. The central area was ringed by a thin wall. Beyond that, the slope shifted to a small set of stairs. The floor fell six feet, leading to an arena of sorts. This particular arena was uniquely coated in fine gravel. Six torches placed on holders along the wall lit the central pit. On one end, Grif’s banner hung along the back wall in a pale green. The Bladefeather clan symbol had been woven in a bold silver, and stood above the Gryphic runes for faith, family, and loyalty.
Across from it stood a harsh mockery of Grif’s banner in a much deeper emerald green. The Bladefeather clan symbol stood superimposed over a crown. The feather-shaped swords dripped with blood. Beneath it, three Gryphic runes lay, but these read, blood, sport, and conquest. Beneath them stood a figure. He was very much like Grif, yet his black feathers and green chest where washed out. He was covered in many more scars, and wore an armored long coat. The blades on his back resembled Vigilance and Vengeance; however, with a much darker design. The normal copper-like red of dragonbone now appeared like dried blood. The Grif beneath the banner watched them with cold, calculating yellow eyes. The way he stood and the way he took them in seemed to give him the appearance of being many centuries older, despite not showing any of the physical signs of age.
“And there I am, Hammer Strike’s view of me,” Grif noted.
“Not exactly a pretty sight,” Vital said.
“Keep that in mind for when we run into you,” Grif said as he removed his pack and set it down outside the ring. He removed anything valuable he had on him, along with anything that could be damaged in the fight, save for his wedding ring. “Take care of these for me.”
Vital nodded. “You need backup?”
“Even if I did, I couldn’t have any. Not the way this works,” Grif chuckled. “Besides, I have something up my sleeve.”
“Don’t you always?” Vital smiled knowingly.
“Just be ready with whatever healing items we’ve got left.” Then, without another word, Grif stepped down onto the gravel floor. He took a moment to work the gravel between his paws and talons, to feel the type of earth he’d be fighting on.
“So, you made it,” Shadow Grif said with a smirk, his deep dual tone full of confidence. “You took your time.”
“Hey, just because you put killing you higher on my to-do list doesn’t mean you get to the top automatically,” Grif responded. “Is this the part where you taunt me with how much better you are?”
“Well, I am better than you in every way, but no, this is the part where I reveal the truth to you. After all, my banner is what everyone sees when they look at yours.” Shadow Grif pointed to his own bloody banner. “Grif Grafson Bladefeather, the legendary butcher, the heroic traitor, the Gyphon King of Equestria.”
“Nice try, but I’m not falling for that one. I was never aiming for a crown, and the traitors were all of them. I was true to me,” Grif responded.
“A rousing story. You almost sound believable. Doesn’t he, pet?” The Shadow Grif chuckled. He looked up to the stands, and Grif followed his gaze. There sat Shrial, wingless, muzzled, and chained to the ground like an animal. Using her as a footrest, Avalon sat in long black robes, reading from even blacker books. Gilda cackled like she was mad as she toyed with a knife not far off.
“What … what is that?” Grif asked as he took an involuntary step backwards.
“Why, I thought it was obvious. That’s how they see their relationships with you. One is a prisoner, chained to you, her freedom exchanged for her life. Another sees you as her tool, one of the strongest Gryphon warriors under her thumb, to be manipulated into gaining her greater power. And the last one sees her marriage to you as some fit, only kept in place by a bout of madness on your part, and should it ever pass, she’ll mean nothing to you.”
“Thats….” Grif found his confidence failing him in that moment as he backed away. Was that all it was?
“Yo, Grif! Actions speak louder than words. You really think the South Wind would approve, if that was all you had with them?” Vital called.
“Listen to the horned prey,” something growled in the back of his mind. “This one is an upstart, a fake.”
“And after all, are you not what you were raised to be? Your arts are war and conquest. Your trade is death. I am your greatest potential, one who can spill the blood of an entire country with little more effort than you would take to write a letter,” the shadow continued to push.
A thought struck Grif, and he found himself momentarily short of breath. Igor had said his arcana was death. Was it true? Was he just a killer?
“Death is change. Some die so others can live. Think of your pride!” Images were slammed into Grif’s mind with the force of a sledgehammer: memories of him with his new family, holding his girls for the first time, having little Tazeer curled up near his chest. Grif felt his confidence bloom again, and took a step forward. He reared up and grabbed a longsword in each hand, then stood in stance across from his opponent.
“No, I’m not a butcher. I don’t fight because I enjoy it. I fight because the world needs to change. You aren't my greatest potential.” He flourished the blades. “You aren't my true self.” He took another step forward. “And most importantly of all, you are not me!”
“You’re right,” Shadow Grif said as his beak curled into a sneer. “I’m not you.” The mock Vigilance and Vengeance were in his hands at speeds almost imperceptible. “I’m so much better.”
“If there is a DJ somewhere in Hammer Strike’s mind, do me a favor. Play me something to kick this faker’s ass, too!” Grif figured for a moment he’d look stupid, before, quite suddenly, music began to play.
The two didn’t move for the first few seconds as piano keys thrummed, but when the drums hit, the two rushed each other. Sparks flew as Grif’s longswords met the mirror versions of his own blades. Immediately, Grif was forced onto the defensive as his double pushed, hammering him with powerful blows that he barely brought up his swords to block in time. Grif idly wondered if this was how Hammer Strike felt fighting him as his hands started going numb. With a sickening crack, both long swords shattered. Grif barely dodged in time to save himself from being decapitated. He immediately switched out to his Hammer Strike-made stilettos. The daggers lasted even less time, with their thinner blades, and Grif received several gouges to his side. Grimacing, Grif withdrew his second knife set and dove under the shadow version’s range to attempt to impale his chest. The blades snapped against the shadow’s armor with laughable ease.
“You don’t get it,” the shadow chuckled. “You can’t beat me with those toothpicks.” Then he blasted Grif with wind at point blank range, sending the warrior rolling across the ground.
“This is several different shades of not good,” Grif mumbled to himself as he hurled throwing blades at his shadow, who blasted them away with a few swipes of his wings. Grif hurled more and more, emptying his bandolier.
“Are you really not getting it? That’s not going to wo–.” Anything else was cut off by a cry of pain as tines of electricity jumped through the shadow’s body between the scattered throwing blades. He stood paralyzed in place, until the enchantments wore themselves out, which, thanks to Twilight’s careful formula, resulted in several dozen rapid detonations. Grif smirked to himself, only to have the wind knocked out of him as a powerful blow sent him spiraling forward. The Shadow Grif stood at the other end, scuffed, but otherwise fine. He charged forward, intending to scissor his opponent, only to be blocked with a metallic clang as the smoke cleared, revealing the real Grif holding his katana between the two blades. Not waiting for his opponent to recover, Grif backed away, throwing off the ruined remains of his leather armor.
“Kick his butt, Grif!” Vital cheered as he looked on. The three Gryphonesses continued to watch from their places, the shadow of Avalon even going so far as to lower her book as her brows rose with intrigue at the sight of the katana.
Grif could feel his stamina waning as the two continued to clash. The shadow Gryphon was his better in both magic and skill with a blade, and Grif had already noticed the few minor wounds he’d inflicted healing themselves, which seemed to imply he was also more skilled in thaumaturgy. But Grif was starting to notice the spider holes. As he suspected, if Hammer Strike was ignorant to something, so was the shadow. He’d had his blades enchanted on a separate occasion, and it had never come up to tell Hammer Strike.
“You need me!” the beast growled. “I can beat him.”
‘Not without the Dark Gale, you can’t, and I’m not chancing what that will do to Hammer Strike’s mind,’ Grif thought back. No, he had something else in mind.
Grif needed time, however, and his opponent would give him none. Much like Hammer Strike knew Grif to be, the shadow had no patience for prolonging the fight more than necessary. After several failed attempts to distract or daze the Gryphon, Grif finally resorted to a cheap tactic. When their blades locked next, he threw a talonful of gravel in his opponent’s eyes. Much to his shock, it worked. His shadow roared its frustration at the sudden blindness. Capitalizing on the moment, Grif grabbed his magic-suppressing ring from his belt and slipped it on, before concentrating. He reached for the fire within himself, not taking the time to suppress his thaumic field. He had no idea how the two energies would react, but there wasn’t time to try his usual way. He found his inner fire and pulled it forward, letting the energy fill his body. The pain in his tired and injured muscles quieted as the power flooded them. Soon a visible whitish-blue aura covered his form and his blade.
“Well that’s new,” the shadow said finally, having finally managed to clear his vision. “But I doubt it will be enough. I think it’s time to end this.” He raised his blades, preparing a final attack.
Grif smirked. The joke was sitting there, waiting for him. This wasn’t the right technique, but he wasn’t going to get another chance like this. “Kaioken!” he shouted.
The shadow stopped. “Kaio-what?”
In that instant, Grif struck, closing the gap between them in a blinding flash. He cut both hands off his opponent, stabbing the shadow in the throat. He caught both swords before they hit the ground and thrust them into the shadow’s side, cutting through his armor like paper, and into his chest, only stopping when he reached the other end of his opponent. The shadow’s eyes dilated in shock, before his body realized it was dead, and promptly collapsed.
Grif released the fire, and fatigue and pain enveloped him again, though surprisingly less than he’d remembered. Still, he slumped to the ground. Behind him, the shadow Grif dissolved. The armored coat and swords clattered to the ground, the armor mysteriously repaired of the rends his blows had dealt it before. Over on the other end of the arena, two Gryphonesses let out a startled gasp, before popping into nonexistence. The third sighed in relief as she faded with her bonds.
“Vital, if it’s not too much to ask, can I get those healing items now?” Grif coughed a little blood into the soil.
Vital Spark was there in an instant. “Here’s the red orb from last time, and I have a few healing potions here, too. Do you need something for vitality as well?”
“Right now, I just need to heal,” Grif said, grabbing the orb. “That was quite the fight.” He sighed as the pain receded slightly, and he stood up. He made his way to the fallen armor and weapons, removing the few plates he scavenged. Then he picked up the armored coat and carefully put it on. He felt several plates interlock as he buttoned up the front. When he picked up the swords and placed them on his back, he began to feel … good. His energy was starting to return. “Huh, thats something,” he noted.
“What?” Vital asked.
“I should be out of magic, and almost out of thaumic energy, after that fight, but I can feel it trickling back, like whatever was holding me back before is gone.”
“You sure it’s not a status buff for the new duds?”
“I’m not sure what it is. Still, we should mark this entrance, then head back for the Velvet Room. Even with the boost, I’m not sure I can fight much longer, after that.”
“It’s not going to respawn, is it?” Vital asked as he offered his body for support.
“Pretty sure he’s not. Probably took a lot to make the first one. Not sure Hammer Strike’s going to risk making another for a while.” Grif thought for a moment. “Also, it’s entirely possible Darkstrike knows where we are.”
“Considering his top fighter let us in here in the first place, I’m guessing it’s a pretty solid bet,” Vital agreed. “So, to the window?”
“To the window,” Grif agreed with a groan. “And when we tell the story? I beat him in one move, okay?”
“Now, Grif, just because I chose the path of magic doesn’t mean I chose to stop being honest,” Vital said with a wink. “Besides, the valiant struggle of the hero always makes them more attractive to the ladies, or in your case, your mates.”
“You’ve got a lot to learn, Vital,” Grif chuckled as they made their way out of the room. “But that can wait.”
“Just don’t involve Murphy,” Vital countered.
Grif grinned. “I make no promises.”
Pensword paused as he looked behind him, then back in front of him again. “Uh … this is a manor. In the middle of the town.” He looked up at the gate surrounding a four-story-tall building with two wings, one on each side to create an I from the air. “I think we found the home of the mayor in this land.” The landscaping was nice, the wall was tall, and the gate they stood in front of had been engraved with what he assumed to be scenes from the mare’s past. Of course, that did them no good, considering said gate was locked up tight. “I guess we need to find a key or have her think we are accepted in her manor?”
“That will require a clever story,” Luna noted.
“Indeed,” Pensword replied. “Do you mind if you take on crafting that story? I doubt she would take much time to listen to a feather-born like me.”
Luna thought about it for a few minutes, before a sly grin formed on her muzzle. Her horn glowed brilliantly, obscuring her for in light. Several seconds later, the light died down, and Celestia suddenly stood before the Pegasus. “Test.” Luna’s voice came through the solar Alicorn’s mouth. Her horn flashed, and she coughed. “Test. How do I sound, Pensword?” Half way through her sentence, her voice began sounding like the sister she now impersonated.
“I….” He stood and stared. “It’s just like her,” he whispered.
“Let us hope it’s enough,” Luna said as they approached the gate. “Open in the name of Her Royal Majesty, Princess Celestia Solaris Galaxia of the Sun,” Luna called.
The gate’s chains clicked off, and the gate swung open of its own accord. Lights and fireflies began to wink around the estate, drawing them towards the front door. Pensword slowly walked behind Luna as they entered the path.
“A good start,” Luna said quietly as they approached the mansion.
“Indeed, just … we should be ready,” he whispered as his eyes darted nervously around the grounds.
They found the doors locked however. A note was on the door stating that the master was away, but that they were welcome to explore the grounds as they desired.
“I guess we have to explore more around here.” Pensword paused. “But might want to put into her heart that the other two are welcome guests of the Crown as well, so we all can work on this on our own time.”
“Perhaps, Pensword, but let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Lead the way,” Luna said with a wave of her hoof.
Pensword nodded. While the grounds were expansive, the pair found nothing of interest. There did appear to be an invitation of sorts for a tea party at a later date that they took note of, however. It would prove a good excuse to enter the yard again, and was very much in character with Celestia’s drinking habits. Pensword yawned as they made their way back to the main portion of the estate’s grounds. “So, I guess we have our next step set,” he said.
The sound of chains suddenly filled the air around them as a strong presence pushed down, filling them with a sense of dread.
“Luna, I think we should be leaving now,” Pensword whispered as his fur and mane both stood on end.
“Agreed,” Luna said hastily as they turned for the gate.
Pensword picked up his pace into a trot, anxious to escape the sense of foreboding that clutched at his chest. “Let’s meet up with the others and inform them of what is happening right now.”
“That seems like a good plan,” Luna agreed as she picked up her pace to a canter. Thankfully, the rattling of the chains slowly receded, and ultimately faded to silence as they reached the familiar door that led to the Velvet Room. The presence that had haunted the pair had lifted, but Pensword still shook as he breathed deeply to recover himself.
“That could have gone better” she noted as they opened the door.
“Agreed.” Pensword paused as he took in the state of the Unicorn and Gryphon, who were currently resting by Track’s table. “Uh, okay, you two, what happened?”
“We managed to make a way in. Hopefully, it will still be there tomorrow,” Grif noted. “Also, I managed to defeat my shadow.” He twirled his new swords for emphasis.
“So, one less shadow, but that means more security. Tradeoffs, I guess,” Pensword sighed. “Still, for now, we have another problem.” And with that said, Pensword proceeded to describe what had happened at the mayor’s estate.
“So there’s some sort of ghost or something?” Vital asked.
“Or maybe a demon,” Pensword guessed.
“Hey, Igor, you have any idea what that was?” Grif asked as he turned to face the other Gryphon.
“The sound of chains and a presence unlike any other.” Igor chuckled briefly. “You most certainly encountered the Reaper.”
“Are we talking Death the reaper or something else here?” Vital asked.
Track opened up her book. “The Reaper is a balancing force of the cognitive world. Its duty is to keep the two worlds apart from each other,” she explained, before looking up at the group. “It must have caught on to your presence in the cognitive world, and is actively working to remove you.”
“And how long does it take to notice we’re here?” Grif asked.
“Anywhere between ten and twelve hours to the outside world, but with the distortions between, it is impossible to gauge.”
“Well, that will make things more complicated,” Grif sighed. “Still, if anything, today proved we can win this.”
“We’re going to have to face all of our shadow selves first, before going after the big bad, aren’t we?” Vital sighed.
“Makes sense. Take out the underlings and it makes it easier for us at the end,” Pensword noted.
“Even facing Clover?”
“I would rather not face her, if I could avoid it.”
“For now, we should focus on those of us that are left, if possible,” Luna interjected.
“I think we should focus on rest, more than anything else. I’ve got a feeling some Ponies are going to be asking for some remedies soon, once word gets round about my potion work, anyways, and I’m not about to try brewing anything without a proper night’s sleep,” Vital noted.
“Sounds like a plan,” Pensword agreed.
“Well then, let’s head in,” Grif said as he headed for the door. The rest of the party soon followed after.
When Pensword awoke from his nap at the campsite, he found himself alone. Once again, Luna and Grif were likely off on another hunt, and Vital was probably either asleep or brewing something up for the locals. He rose and stretched in his usual style, then groaned in pleasure as he heard the satisfying pop that was his spine and neck realigning. Next, he turned toward the fire pit, and blinked in surprise. There, on one of the stones he’d used to build the wall to shelter the pit, the sunlight glinted off two gold bits. He narrowed his eyes suspiciously and approached the coins. He looked every which way, swiveling his ears to listen for the slightest disturbance. Then his nostrils flared, and he shuddered in near-delight when he turned to a small cloth bag that had been laid next to the coins.
He quickly opened the bag with his teeth, and gasped at the sight of two dozen tea bags. Then he looked down and noticed the envelope. Once he’d lowered the bag and pocketed the bits, he picked up the letter, and opened it.
It’s not much, but I hope this helps. Stop by my office later. There are some things you should know. You won’t be held up. You have my vow.
Best Wishes,
Weather Master Storm Cloak
The Pegasus blinked in surprise as he read over the letter one more time, then put it back in its envelope, before returning to his normal morning routine. He opened the packs and pulled out a hunk of smoked meat. He was careful only to cut off a few slices, then laid them in a pan, before lighting the fire once more. He walked over to the tents to ensure the stakes had been properly anchored, while he waited for the flames to die down enough to cook with. Much to his surprise, he found no signs of the old patchy canvas that had covered their tents. Now, a brand new set replaced them. Beads of water rolled off them like jewels as the protective charms and treatments did their work. He laid a hoof to the fabric, and nodded as he felt the weave of the magic in the threads. It was definitely Weatherpony grade.
He frowned as he made his way back to the fire again, and cut a slice of bread to go with his meal, tossing it on top of the pan as well. He made a mental note to show the letter to Grif and Luna when they returned, then caught himself and shook his head as he laid the pan on the sticks and eyed the implement carefully. It was Gabriel and New Moon, while they were here, and he was Feather Blade. Vital was not Vital, but Yvetal. To allow himself to slip like that, even for a moment, could cost them dearly later on.
Then his stomach growled, and he returned to the task at hand. Yes, he couldn’t afford to slip, but he also couldn’t act very well on an empty stomach. And with that thought in mind, he tossed the contents of his pan a few times to ensure even heat distribution and smiled. “Just like old times,” he muttered to himself. Breakfast was almost ready.
“Excuse me, you’re asking for how much for these ingredients?” Yvetal balked at the trading stall owner.
“Twenty bits is the best I can offer,” the mare replied adamantly. “Some of these grow only in the Everfree, and it’s not cheap to gather.”
“That glimmer moss is hardly difficult to find. It grows near most willows by the water. And as for that snowdrop, I know for a fact it’s a natural repellent to most monsters, which means harvesting it has very little risk, especially if one uses its fragrance when passing through dangerous terrain,” the Unicorn argued.
“That may be the case, but you’re also asking for moonglow, which can only grow in a magic enriched location under a full moon. That’s usually only found in Thestral territory.”
“And that’s supposed to be a problem?” Yvetal countered. “They’re not exactly an unreasonable sort of folk, you know,” he said with a shrug. “I’ll give you thirteen bits for the lot. That’s still a good five bits over current market value back in Canterlot.”
The mare almost laughed. “Yeah, right. You’d be lucky to get twenty bits there.” She rolled her eyes. “Eighteen.”
“Fifteen, and not a bit higher.”
“Seventeen,” she huffed. “I’m already breaking even, so I’m not dropping any lower.”
Yvetal rubbed his chin as he considered the mare’s statement. “That is a fair point. I’d forgotten how Earth Ponies usually get the poor end of the stick on these deals.” He levitated eighteen bits onto the counter. “I hate to deny a hard working Pony a profit,” he said with a wink.
The mare grouped the ingredients together and placed them forward for Yvetal to grab as she collected the bits. “Until next time.”
“I’m looking forward to it.” Yvetal nodded respectfully to the mare, then turned to weave back through town. He chuckled to himself as he clopped along the street. “I wonder what rate Angela would charge in this age,” he mused as he made his way back towards the inn.
Pensword looked at Grif as the Gryphon watched the guards below from their vantage point on the edge of some tall chandeliers, thanks to a spare door Grif had found and managed to open with his lockpicking skills.
“How are you doing this? I feel you are getting away with stealth better, yet I still feel like we’re being watched,” Pensword said.
“It’s a castle inside the subconscious of Hammer Strike,” Grif responded. “On some level, we are being watched. But from what I can tell, there are limits to what can be noticed, and it all depends on speed,” Grif noted as he reached into his bag and retrieved a long length of corded rope tied to a metal loop. A small bladed dart with a steel barb had been connected to the other end. “Stay here,” he ordered. He swung the dart around a few times to gather momentum, before throwing it at one of the guards below them. The dart didn’t peirce any flesh, but the barb caught on the armor and pulled on the tunic below. Before the guard could react, Grif dropped to the floor on the other side of the chandelier. In a quick motion, the guard was pulled up and off the ground as his tunic and armor were pulled back against his throat, cutting off his air and crushing his windpipe. Pensword watched as the soldier convulsed, kicking and flailing in vain. Finally, he passed out from lack of air. A few seconds afterward, the corpse stopped twitching and started to fade. Grif threw the rope up to Pensword, before darting behind a pillar.
Pensword grabbed the rope and held onto it for the next move, having a feeling that if he tried to replicate Grif’s feat, he would raise the alarm. He sighed. At least he could hold the tool, so none of the other guards would see it.
Grif darted behind a pillar and signaled Pensword to point out the closest guard to his location. A few seconds later, Pensword motioned that the next guard was coming into line of sight and was open for another attack. A grin spread across his face at the fact that he was able to help. True, it was a bit foalish, but he just couldn’t help himself. Grif moved swiftly towards his target. Controlling his momentum and the air pressure around him allowed him to move near silently. He got an eye on the guard and waited patiently. When the target reached the opposite side of the pillar, he struck in a rapid movement, sticking a knife through a gap in the neck of the armor and plunging it through the jugular. Grif did his best to cushion his target’s fall to prevent noise, before moving back to another pillar. He dispatched two more with the same rapid efficiency. He drew his swords as the final target passed by. He walked straight up and sliced his opponent in the thigh, forcing him onto one knee, before placing both blades across his neck in a X formation and decapitating him. With the room officially cleared, he signalled Pensword to come down as the headless corpse fell.
Pensword flapped silently to the ground. “Grif, I feel like something is following us, and might be chuckling at what we did.”
“I wouldn’t doubt it. These were too easy. Felt like I was hunting rookies,” Grif noted as he looked over the now dead enemies for possible loot. He passed Pensword a set of pauldrons and boots, which became armored horseshoes, then decided to pocket the red orb for later.
“So, you finally figured it out,” a sepulchral voice spoke out from the walls. “So nice of you to help grow my army. You wouldn’t believe how hard it was to talk Hammer Strike into letting the rookies take over this wing.”
Pensword’s feathers bristled as his mane stood on end. “That….”
“Yes, yes, I sound like you. But I assure you, I am what you could have been if you had just learned from the beginning, instead of dragging your hooves like a little colt.” The voice chuckled, and its laughter reverberated through the halls. “Did you really think talking to the dead was our only trick? How would you like to give Mom a nice hug?”
Pensword was about to growl before he felt a hoof on his nose. And then it was gone with a familiar giggle. “That … that was–.”
“Whirlwind. Yes. With this power you have denied for so long, you could have had that and so much more. Take Triumph, for example. You could have really earned your name and had yourself a vengeance that would last an eternity, simply by binding the spirits of dead Gryphons to fight for you. And should you outlive your loved ones, well, they could always be at your side.”
Pensword looked uneasily around the room as the voice continued.
“You know you are nothing without others. Even before our little change to hooves, you felt alone more times than not. So, why not keep folks around? How about talking to your lost relatives about their stories? You wanted to know what happened to them, what happened to certain lost family treasures.…”
“Enough!” Pensword snapped. If there was one thing he couldn’t stand, it was when someone dared to claim greed as his motives. “That may be true, but what about what they want?”
“We only wanted to see our son grow up, and be a part of his life.” A transparent image of Iron Pen suddenly appeared next to Whirlwind and Moon Burn. A leathery wing ran down his mane as Moonbeam hummed in his ear.
Pensword sidestepped as a very patchworked looking image of Grif tried to stab him in the ribs. But the Gryphon’s movements were jerky, stiff, far too slow. Pensword was able to duck, weave, and step back. “So, I am a threat to you, after all. Why else would you use my family–” he reared to his hind hooves to avoid a ethereal dagger “–to take me down?” He shook his head. “But this is a perversion, a mockery of what I stand for and believe in.”
“Is that so?” The voice laughed. Then let’s have a little wager: My family against your family and friends.” The room began to shake, and the floor to writhe under their hooves. The supporting pillars dropped and shifted to create a vast open space lined with a checkerboard of white and black squares. “Beat me here, and you’ll open the way to face me directly. But if I beat you, I’ll make sure you won’t be able to enter this castle again for another three days. Tick Tock, Commander,” the voice said petulantly, insultingly. “Time is ticking away. After all, the more you use my gift, the weaker you will become.”
“Heh.” Pensword spat with a smirk as his eyes flicked around. “The thing is, with my field weaker than yours, I trained to compensate. I didn’t use that field to know you were trying to backstab.”
“Backstab?” the walls rumbled with rage. “You have come here to tear down what can be, what should be! All is fair in war!”
Pensword could only smile at this. “They who bluster and fight hardest usually have the most to hide. So, are we going to fight?”
Laughter echoed around the room. “Come and find me.” The stones began to rumble, and sixteen granite pillars rose at various points around the room, with one standing in each corner, and the rest forming two circles, one within the other. Tiles flipped and shifted in hue and shade, turning green, orange, purple, indigo, and so many more. “One pillar of these sixteen will open the path to me. Another will expel you automatically, and the others will spawn a monster of my choosing. So come, Pensword. Show me that brilliant mind of yours. Which one is the right one?”
Pensword flew up to observe the pillars more closely. “Look for a white five-pointed star in a flag. Any pillar with that will probably be a good place to start.” Then he stopped. “But, then again, he would know that. So, the real question I should be asking is how would I have used that logic against me or for me,” he mused to himself, even as he searched.
“Think, Pensword,” Grif snapped. “This isn’t you. This is Hammer Strike’s view of what you could be. What does he not know about you?”
“A few things, but he knows I love history,” Pensword answered. “How many times have I talked about the White Star Line, or ships, or the United States, or Nippon, or the United Kingdom, Normandy; should I go on?” He shook his head and sighed. “But, then again, you might be right. I should be thinking about this from Shawn’s point of view.” His eyes drifted back to where his family watched unmoving with unblinking eyes.
“Does sixteen hold any historical significance?” Grif asked.
“To me, no. Well, sixteen candles for a major birthday, or sixteen roses, as I learned in Jr. high school. It’s one of the names kids gives cystic fibrosis. I could construe the number to the sistine chapel, I suppose, but sixteen never really held much importance to me personally. It was just a number I would use in hopes of confusing folks and make them more likely to fail.” He cocked his head suddenly as he stared down at the pillars again. He flew up into the rafters and settled down to peer at the ground below. A series of blue tiles stretched from each of the pillars in a series of straight lines, transforming the pillars in the twin circles into the intersecting points on a pictogram.
“Grif, fly up here. Tell me what you see.”
Grif did so, and whistled. “The star of David. So what does it mean?”
Pensword raised a wing to shush the Gryphon. He peered carefully at the layout, then dove down to one of the pillars at a star point facing an empty wall. A series of images had been carved into the stone: a candlestick, a trumpeting human angel on a golden ball, and the familiar flag with the five-pointed star. His hoof drifted toward the symbol for a moment, and then his eyes fell to the bottom of the pillar, where a nondescript star stood beneath, with two points jutting upwards on the stone. A series of worn scratches patched around the symbol, and he smiled. He reached out and turned the crooked star, until the twin prongs were facing down and the single point facing up again. There was a loud clank and the candle’s flame flickered a baleful white. That white then dripped down the stick like a streak of wax, before continuing down to bisect the angel, the flag, and finally the righted star, before it touched the tile below. The tile exploded into bright light, and the room began to shake with the grinding of ancient gears. The sound of stone rumbling against stone resounded as the pilar betan to turn counterclockwise, slowly screwing into the ground as the tiles surrounding it began to drop.
“Impossible,” the voice hissed. That hiss soon rose to an fearsome roar of outrage. “How?”
“You made it too complicated, just like me, like my life. However, you put the star, which can mean many things, askew and at the bottom. By trying to hide it, you made it distinct. You drew my attention to it.”
There was no response from below as the shadows of the ghosts of Pensword’s family dissipated.
“Well, Grif, it looks like we have our way in,” Pensword said as he bore his fangs in a feral grin. “I really am starting to tick myself off.”
“Yeah, I know the feeling,” Grif said, following Pensword with a grim expression on his face. “Let's finish this.”
Vital sighed in relief as he heard the suit of armor clank past the door to the storage room. “That’s the tenth one. Hammer Strike must’ve really beefed up the security while we were out.”
“It’s little wonder, seeing as Grif managed to dispatch one of his agents,” Luna noted. She waited for a few breaths, then checked the halls. “I imagine the Shadow Grif’s death was a powerful loss.”
“Nice gain for the real Grif, though,” Vital said with a smirk. “So where do you want to go next?”
“We should try to find your double, wherever he may be.”
Well, if he’s supposed to be the epitome of me, he’ll probably have his own study. Either that or …” he gulped “... a place in the dungeons.”
“Yes, but if we are to have even a hope of beating my counterpart, I need you at your best.”
“Do you think she’ll really be that bad?”
“You realize she’ll be nightmare moon at her most powerful, correct?”
“And what was that like?” Vital asked curiously as he peeked out the door.
“I don’t know. She never got that far,” Luna admitted.
“Not even when you blocked out the sun the first time?”
“Not even close.” Luna shook her head.
Vital let out a low whistle. “Dang.”
“Lead the way,” Luna instructed.
The pair snuck through the halls, and eventually came to the tower door again. “Guess we’ll have to check the dungeon first,” he sighed. “I just hope I don’t throw up,” he muttered.
“I thought I was the princess here,” Luna remarked as they made their way to the stairs.
“You weren’t raised in a pacifist family with no real violence or bloodshed involved. Besides, this is Hammer Strike’s darker psyche we’re talking about. I’m betting there’s going to be things down there that make even yourstomach churn.”
“We shall see, Vital Spark,” Luna chuckled. “Now come on. Let’s get going, before the reaper shows up.”
“I thought that was only supposed to be in that village place,” Vital said as he snuck into the stairwell and began the descent.
“Do you wish to take the chance?”
“Probably not, given this plane kinda sucks our energy.”
“So lead on, Vital Spark. I have your back.”
“Eegads. She’s got me!” Vital whispered back playfully, then sighed as they continued their journey, until they reached the familiar hallway. The metal door was cracked, as it had been before, only this time there was no sign of screaming, and the light was dim. Only a series of low whimpers and sniffles reached their ears. Vital paused at the door and sighed. “I really wish we didn’t have to do this.”
“That won’t change the fact we do have to do it,” Luna retorted. Then Vital pressed against the heavy door and they entered the torture chamber.
A chill seeped out from the stones as they passed through the chamber. They didn’t look when the squelching sounded beneath their hooves. Vital hoped it was moss. Luna knew better. The scent of soot and smoke emanated for a wide opening, which was the most likely source of the light when they had first arrived there as a group. “It’s too dim in here. Luna, can you use your night vision, or do I need to mix up another bottle light?” Vital whispered.
“Best mix it up anyway, in case we get separated.”
Vital nodded mutely as he levitated the bottles out of his bag and mixed up the concoction once more. The whimpering increased sharply at the sound of his magic, and Vital grit his teeth. “It’s not going to be pretty, is it?” he asked, motioning down to the yawning blackness of a branching hallway.
“Best take short glances,” Luna agreed. “Hammer Strike knows a great deal about torture.”
“I could tell,” Vital said as he motioned towards a long, cold table made from rigid steel. Blood spatters and other stains had dried onto its surface, and the restraints had been dyed black from the many prisoners that had struggled to break those bonds. He swallowed heavily, then pressed on down the hall.
“So where would you be in all this?”
“If this is Clover’s office, and Hammer Strike is making a perfect version of me, I’d probably have one of my own, and a lab where I’d … experiment on subjects.”
“Any idea what to look for?”
“Well, this is supposed to be a darker version of me, so probably any signs of a trap designed to immobilize prey while making them exceedingly uncomfortable. He probably knows we’re coming, too, since he’ll likely have mastered his thaumaturgy. Though that might at least be somewhat of an advantage to us, since my aspects basically balance each other out.”
The pair took a short walk down the path to the next portion of the dungeon, where a broad circular stone chamber greeted them. A large iron maiden towered ahead of them, built to fit the largest of Minotaurs to the smallest of Ponies. Manacles and shackles hung from the walls, clinking mournfully as the drafts from the dungeon moved them. A set of tables much like the first greeted their gaze, though these appeared to be cleaner, and had a seam to them. A closer examination revealed just why as Vital noticed the mechanism to adjust the table. A set of tongs and other tools sat in a bucket on a table nearby, waiting for their owners’ touch. A large tub sat off to the side, filled almost to the brim with water. A chair stood on the other side, with a sort of cage built into it. Spikes jutted inwards to poke at the victims, and fresh scorch marks by the seat indicated the coals that had once been there to burn the victim and make him or her squirm, thus striking the spikes.
“Well, this is … homey,” Luna said as she scanned the room.
“This is just the tip of the iceberg, Luna. We haven’t even seen the psychological torture, let alone the drugs and poisons.” Vital shuddered. “I hope we never have to.”
“Said from one who’s never been on either side of those psychological tortures,” Luna laughed. “Oh, the things I’ve lived through.”
“Reading fictional accounts is enough for me, Luna. I’d rather not have to go through it myself.”
“Yes, I’m sure,” Luna sighed wistfully as they moved forward. Shadows and memories of wars fought and won played through her head. “It should be enough for anypony.”
Pensword looked up at the vaulted ceiling of the caverns, then back to Grif as torches burst into life, revealing reliefs filled with carvings from Pensword’s life and adventures. He kept his ears in motion, but the only thing they heard was the whispering of the winds. At least Pensword hoped it was just the wind. “Grif … what do you feel?” he asked hopefully
“I feel the breeze, but it feels wrong, fake, like it’s being made to lead us on,” Grif noted.
“I know, but this unnerves me. It feels like the crypts. That leads me to wonder. If that’s the case, then why am I in charge of the tombs, vaults, and graves, when I’m supposed to be the commander?”
“Well, right now, you can speak to spirits. Have you ever wondered what the greatest thaumic expression of this power is?” Grif asked.
“Grif, I respect the dead. At the moment, I’m working on improving what I have. So, while I am curious, I haven’t given it much thought.”
"Hammer Strike’s version of you isn't going to let something so soft as morality hold him back,” Grif noted. “He’ll bring the dead back to use as thralls, if he thinks it’s an advantage.”
“A thrall?” Pensword shuddered in horror. “That’s just horrible. Keeping those from their rest against their will?” He took a deep breath, then slipped into the shadows cast around a set of heavy stone doors. Pensword’s cutie mark was carved over the middle of the frame, with a moon above and the sun below. As the two drew close, the doors swung open ponderously to reveal a vault lined with torches along the walls and a great chandelier spanning over much of the ceiling reminiscent of the one from Phantom of the Opera. A series of large stone sarcophagi stood in neat rows leading up to a gothic throne-like stone chair.
Pensword stared up at his shadow, taking in the measure of his form and stature as he stared coldly out from his throne. The shadow’s left eye was covered by a bloody eye patch. The barest edges of a scar shone on either edge of the piece. The other eye burned a baleful yellow that glowed with cold malice. His fur was muted, and his open-face helmet cast a shadow over his muzzle as his mane shoved out through the crest in stone-like rigidity. A dark plate armor covered his torso and chest and a scarlet cape draped down over his back to flow across the throne like rivulets of blood.
“So, my little sniveling shadow has come to play with me. I wonder if I could claim your soul when you die here.” The doors slammed shut as Grif was suddenly blown back by the ghosts of Gryphons past. “Let your little friend play with mine. This battle is between you and me. Come now, and face your fate.” The sound of swords being drawn sounded and already ghosts were dissipating left and right.
Pensword stepped back and used his wings to propel him away as Lightning struck where he had stood moments before. He didn’t speak as he hid in the shadows. He closed his eyes as he tried to come up with a plan.
“So, you seek the shadows for protection? How very cowardly of you,” Shadow Pensword taunted. “I thought you were a commander.” He stood on the throne, smiling, but the smile faltered for a second as a ghost shot out from the shadows briefly, then faded into nothing. “So, trying to steal from me now, too, are you? My, you are bold. But why not try it out in the open?”
“I fight from the shadows. I use all my tools or have you forgotten?” Pensword’s voice came from behind. The shadow barely had the time to react. He quickly bent over backwards, seizing Pensword by the barrel and flipping him over his head. But that proved to be a mistake as Pensword held firmly, using the momentum to pull his shadow along for the ride. The two tumbled together across the floor as Grif roared his anger at the ghostly combatants.
Pensword managed to land a lucky blow to his shadow’s helmet, dazing the Pony long enough to get back up and hide in the shadows of the alcoves once more.
Shadow Pensword roared in rage. “No more shadows!” he bellowed as flickering baleful blue flames suddenly popped into existence, drifting along the crypt’s walls. Their gentle light caused the shadows to retreat, until the stone swords that had been resting on the coffins suddenly leapt to life, slashing at the things with such force as to snuff them out. “How?” Shadow Pensword snarled. “No one can destroy my will-o-wisps!”
He roared as he lightning lunged out from his body like javelins, seeking anything and everything that would prove a worthy conductor. Unfortunately, Pensword proved unable to dodge, as he was still recovering from the exertions he had set to attack the wisps in the first place. He collapsed to the ground, writhing as the electricity arced through his nervous system.
“Such a pity, isn’t it?” Shadow Pensword gloated. “All that armor you have picked has made you such a wonderful conductor. Though I have to admit, I’m surprised you haven’t died outright. That strike should have gone straight for your soul. I wonder, could that mean you don’t have a soul to break in the first place?” he sneered.
Pensword stuttered to his hooves and managed to drag himself behind a pillar. His body still twitched and shook against his will, but at least he still had some control of his faculties. Moments later, a torrent of water slammed into his side, crushing him against the wall. A loud crack sounded in his ears and Pensword was certain he would have been in immense pain were it not for the fact his nerves were still jumbled from the electrical overload. He gathered what strength he could, before breaking into a run to find better cover. Unfortunately, he didn’t get far as ghostly hooves tripped him up, sending him sprawling to the ground.
“Not so tough now, are you?” Pensword’s shadow gloated. Pensword looked down at a dagger he didn’t remember clutching before as he blinked the water from his eyes, and a hint of a smile pulled at his lips.
“Let’s see if the mighty Pensword can take down my soldiers,” Shadow Pensword sneered as the sarcophagi slowly grated open. Decaying flesh and frigid bone rose in a flood as corpse after corpse emerged to tumble onto the floor, before lurching towards the Pegasus with dreadful, hungry moans.
Pensword felt a familiar sensation clutching at his chest as he hissed his frustration. “Zombies. Why did it have to be zombies?” He looked around desperately. Knowing his opponent, he likely wouldn't be allowed the reprieve of flight, not with those lightning bolts the shadow could hurl at a moment’s notice. And he would only be able to run for so long before the creatures caught up with him or dealt a blow that would seal a fate worse than death. No, if he was to get out of this mess, the only choice was to defeat the horde, and to do that, he would need a better weapon than a flintlock or rifle.
His gaze finally fell on an old rusty sword left to corrode by one of the sarcophagi. It was probably brittle, and wouldn’t get many swings, but it was better than nothing. He dove for it, evading biting teeth and grabby hooves to finally seize his prize. He knew the need for the divine to counter the undead. However, he had no blessed objects on him, and all of Grif’s holy items had been left behind in the physical plane. No, in this case, he had little choice in the matter.
He extended the sword to face his adversaries, then planted it into the floor. The cross hilt reached outward in front of him like a shield, albeit a rather poorly kept one. And then he began to speak in the language of his ancestors, the language his grandmother had taught him and her mother before her and her mother before her back through the corridors of time to the very beginning. His head remained bowed, his eyes closed in solemn reverence as the prayer rose in a fervent chant.
“Pray all you like. It won’t make a difference.” Pensword’s shadow laughed as the mob drew closer. So sure of himself was he, that he didn’t even notice as flecks of rust began to fall away and tiny rivulets of silver seemed to writhe beneath the surface. The room began to brighten somewhat, and a beam of silver light appeared, seemingly from nowhere, to grace the blade. Pensword smiled as the sword began to glow. The rust shucked off like so much dead skin. Pensword’s smile widened.
And the shadow suddenly noticed. “Stop that,” he hissed. “Stop that chanting!” the order reverberated through the crypt as he turned his gaze on the corpses. “What are you waiting for, already? Kill him!”
Grif smiled as he plunged Vengeance into another ghost and it dispersed on the blade. Gryphon runes glowed brightly as he fought onwards. Enchanted dragonbone cleaved through spirit like flesh and blood. Pensword would handle this, Grif had faith in that much.
The light from the sword grew brighter and brighter as Pensword’s voice carried into the darkness of the crypt, and the corpses shuddered as their advance slowed, and ultimately stopped. Pensword snapped his eyes opened and flourished the blade, carving a glowing circle that ignited with light. The room was ablaze as unearthly screams raged across the room. Those screams soon dropped to whimpers, and finally to a long, drawn out sigh. The light cleared, and Pensword found himself standing alone in a chamber bereft of any sign of the undead.
“I probably should have told you. I took holy vows before I came on this journey.” He smiled as he placed the blade point down on the stones again. “So, how does it feel, knowing that I have the power to level the playing field? How does it feel knowing that I can send your undead to the other side with a few words? How does it feel knowing that I have power over thee?”
“Your power is nothing!” Shadow Pensword snapped angrily. He sent the last remains of the water flooding out of the basin to distract Pensword as he summoned more ghosts to strike at the Gryphon. Then he drew a pistol, not the flintlock Pensword carried, but a legitimate pistol. He fired twice, sending lances of pain into Pensword’s side.
“Oh, I know it is,” Pensword snarled through the pain as he kept himself standing through sheer will power alone. “That’s why I have others to help me. That is why I rely on the blessings of the moon. And she has not disappointed me on this day. And that, that is what makes the difference between us. I embraced my heritage. I understand the sanctity of the night, the peace it provides, the importance it holds for us and our heritage. You?” He chuckled hoarsely. “You have taken on the trappings of a Pegasus general leading a Unicorn army.”
Pensword’s shadow roared as he reared on his hind legs, lashing at the air, before charging in a reckless gallop. Pensword rolled to the side at the last minute, even as he bit his lip to keep from screaming. He watched in satisfaction as the shadow crashed head-first into a pillar.
“It wasn’t nice, what you did to my brother and sister. Isn’t it amazing, what miracles can come to pass through the power of prayer.”
“You took my family!” Shadow Pensword charged again, and Pensword stepped calmly to the side as the now half-mad Pegasus crashed against one of the sarcophagi.
“No. They’re not your family anymore. You stopped seeing them that way a long time ago. You bound them to your will with chains, trapped them here, anchored them to this plane against their will. You used them like tools, forcing them to spy for you, hunt for you, kill for you.” He shook his head. “Not anymore.” He raised the sword again. “Merciful goddess, who watches over the eternal sleep, empower my sword that I may be an instrument of deliverance once more.” The sword blazed, this time with brilliant white light. He flung it at the throne, where it embedded itself into the carving of a Pony skull with soulless sockets. A series of cracks ran in lines and spread out from the rendering, until the whole seat was alight with cracks. And then it exploded with a sudden detonation. A shrill chorus of raspy screams tore through the air as a pulsing black mass writhed beneath the impalement from the sword. It burst apart with a final scream of agony that trailed off into silence, leaving the sword to clatter to the floor.
Pensword’s shadow cried out in rage and horror. “What have you done?”
“What you should have a long time ago. Did you really think I wouldn’t see where the chains led? I may have weakened, but I am far from blind.” He raised his voice and cried at the top of his lungs. “Hear me, ye spirits of the dead, you who have yearned for rest and been denied. Hear me, and know that thou art free. Turn upon the defiler and the moon shall grant you the rest you deserve!” He turned to glare at his shadow. “I am obliged to say may the gods have mercy on your soul,” he began, “but I think we both know none of them will.”
The wind that had been whispering so gently before sudden rose into a mighty squall. Sobs, wails, shrieks, and roars mingled and crashed again and again like the waves of the sea. White lights, silhouettes, faint images, and more flooded into the room from every corner, phasing through walls, flooding through the entrance, bursting through coffins and sarcophagi as they circled round the chandelier like a whirlpool. And all the while, the light from its crystals grew stronger and stronger.
Pensword’s shadow roared as he struck at the spirits, lashing with his hooves, striking with his wings, sizzling with lightning and gusts of air to no avail. His angry cries soon turned to screams of terror as the mob surrounded him. Feathers were pulled, blood was drawn, and still the shadow fought. Finally, seeing nothing else worked, he pulled out a crystal bound to a chain around his neck. It was shaped like a cartoon skull. He breathed deeply, and the crystal disappeared. The ghosts suddenly vanished, and the shadow dropped to the ground beneath the great light.
Before he could have the chance to recover, Pensword raced forward and kicked his shadow in the back. Then he reared up and slammed his hooves down on the only unprotected place he could manage to reach, the shadow’s skull. There was a loud double crack, a sickening snap, and finally a shattering mixed with a squelch not unlike one hears when wringing a sponge. Pensword didn’t bother looking down as the shadow began to dissipate. He turned, instead to Grif.
Grif nodded his approval as he stood calmly and sheathed his swords. There was no sign of ghost, ghoul, or zombie. The room was truly empty. Pensword looked up at the chandelier as the last of the supernatural light began to fade. The shadows of his family smiled in gratitude as they faded away.
“That,” he spat, “was horrible.” He paused, however, as he turned to behold the last dregs of his shadow forming up into an armored cape, a familiar helmet, and heavily armored horseshoes. A sharp tomahawk and six throwing daggers on wires finished the ensemble. “Let’s loot his personal chest for anything of value, before heading back up top, okay?”
“Yeah, you put that armor on,” Grif agreed. “You’ll need the boost after that.”
“Happy to know that the old mare tales of only the weapon of the dead could defeat the dead, otherwise, I would have never gotten past the will-o-wisps. Amazing he didn’t know or forgot that old tale.”
“Hammer Strike likely didn’t know,” Grif noted.
“Well, I guess it’s a good thing it worked for me, then,” Pensword answered with a sigh of relief. “Come now. Let us….” He moved up and when he touched the chest he began to laugh. “They’re empty.” He sighed, then winced as he clutched at his side. “Okay, I think I’m ready to go home and sleep now. Is that okay with you, Grif?”
Grif chuckled. “Yeah, Pensword. Let’s get out of here.”
After much searching, Luna and Vital Spark found themselves standing before a hidden doorway attached to the iron maiden. A low moan echoed through the darkness of the gaping maw, and Vital Spark shuddered at the damp chill that flowed out of the gap.
“Is it wrong for me to wish we hadn’t discovered this passage?” Vital asked timidly.
“No, though I imagine it would have taken us much longer, if we hadn’t,” Luna noted.
Vital sighed. “So now we need to find where my other self’s study is. Or I guess my other other self,” he chuckled.
“No, it wouldn’t be.” Luna shook her head. “Hammer Strike is unaware of that entity.”
“I know, Luna. I was referring to the fact that I have him in my head, and then there’s this other version of me Hammer Strike made that we have to find, too.” He chuckled. “It’s not funny, and yet I’m laughing anyway. Guess it means I’m nervous. Doesn’t exactly help when the idiot’s mocking me.” He shrugged. “No use in complaining though, I guess.” Their hoofsteps echoed almost deafeningly in the passage. “So where do we go from here? Should we just search for the coldest place in here? Or do you think there’s some other way we might be able to figure out where to find this shade?”
“I’m at a disadvantage here. This is not the dream realm,” Luna noted.
“Then I guess we’ll just have to keep our ears open.” Then he promptly facehoofed and swore.
“What is it?” Luna asked, a little alarmed by the action.
“Luna, he knew about Aria. She’s a hatchling. She needs–” a loud, angry screech tore through the corridor “–feeding,” he faltered. “Considering the nature the shadow Hammer Strike induced in his version of Clover, I wouldn’t put it past his version of me to use … fresher meat.” He swallowed heavily. “What better way to get rid of a body after the torture kills them?”
“True, though that is a sign of sloppy work,” Luna nodded. “Any good torturer never needlessly kills a subject.”
“Unless they take pleasure in it, and Hammer Strike doesn’t care,” Vital said softly.
“But Hammer Strike would care,” Luna protested. “He appreciates skill and a job well done.”
“And if they’re spies or traitors?”
“Then what better way to send a message to those who would send spies after you or coerce others from you than by sending a message with their screams?”
“In a sealed secret portion of the dungeon?”
“I was taught that death is a mercy we give our enemies on the battlefield. In the dungeon, less mercy saves lives.”
A withered hoof sudden reached out to grab at Luna’s wing. “P-please, help me,” the Pony wheezed. As Vital Spark drew nearer, he saw the stumpy remains of a horn. The Pony’s coat was ragged and unwashed, his mane gnarled with knots. A red-stained cloth band wrapped around his head to cover his eyes. The cutie mark was too faded to make a proper identification, though it looked like a hint of a sun could barely be made out in the light.
“Shhh, shhh. Sleep now. The nightmare is over,” Luna said soothingly as her horn lit up. The Pony slowly calmed down, before moving sluggishly to the straw that served as his bed. He laid down, and gently fell asleep. A few minutes after that, his breathing stopped, and he faded away.
“Starvation, dehydration, forcing them to live in their own filth. Why do I get the feeling that may have been a solar noble?”
“It may have been. Hammer Strike, after all, abhors what the nobility have become,” Luna noted. “Still, most of this torture is very rookie.”
“Then I guess it has to be me. It seems murphy has a peculiar tendency to make me fail at various intervals. It must have carried over to this shadow me, too.”
“Well, there are worse things to be bad at,” Luna pointed out.
“Good point.” Vital chuckled. “Though if it were really me, I probably would’ve gone with giving them frostbite bit by bit, just enough for them to feel the pain, and then restoring them in the worst way possible to increase the pain of it. Not that I’m into that sort of thing, but it seems like an excellent means to start off the session,” he pointed out clinically as they pressed on. No sign of any traps had appeared just yet, which meant either the torturer didn’t expect anyone to dare to enter, or the way had been left open deliberately.
Eventually, they arrived at a thick wooden door. Vital opened it to reveal a brightly lit office room with an ornate desk at its center. Cells surrounded the circumference of the room. Some of them held shelves of various artifacts, potions, or poisons. Others held reagents. Others still held various lab equipment and bookshelves. Another held a blood-encrusted operating table with pristine implements and a series of jars filled with organs. Various mechanical amalgamates sat lined up on a metal platter, waiting for some action they didn’t know.
A familiar teal-streaked mane flowed down a certain clever mare’s back over a set of black robes. Blood-red horseshoes stood planted firmly on the stone floor as she addressed a prim-looking Earth Pony with peach-colored fur and silver hair that brushed around her cheeks, curving inward. A smart little oblong navy cap curved between her ears, and two sets of navy boots covered her front and back hooves. The front ones seemed to be made from a finer material, and moved more easily with her forehooves, while the back ones were sturdy and more functional, reaching up to her knees. A navy blue sleeveless dress clung tightly to her body as it stretched back along her frame. A series of black circles with white buttons at the center ran in a straight line down the front, and a familiar leatherbound book sat on her back as she spoke with the shadow.
“I was merely addressing how unimposing you are,” the mare commented with a soft smile. “After all, you are just taking after the shape of a Pony.”
“You know nothing about me,” the shadow Clover responded, firing off several blasts of dark magic at her opponent which seemed to collide with the air just before her.
“Quite the contrary. I find your existence to be unique. As a shadow created by a shadow, it is almost a miracle that you have some sense of consciousness,” the mare commented as the leather book on her back floated to her front, opening as she glanced at the pages. “But I must admit, while I was hoping this interaction would serve some purpose for me, it has not.”
The pages of her book turned as she glanced over them, only to stop suddenly as she glanced up to Shadow Clover. “Let us see. How about ... Megidola?” As the words left her mouth, a blinding flash of light shone over shadow Clover, and as quickly as it appeared, it vanished, leaving no trace of shadow Clover behind. The mare frowned as she looked to the floor where the shadow had once stood. “How disappointing. I was hoping for more.”
“... That was scary,” Vital Spark finally managed to say.
“Oh,” the mare turned suddenly as she noticed Vital and Luna for the first time. “Are you two my next opponents?”
“Shouldn’t we be asking you that? You have the same eyes as every creature of this world. How do we know this battle isn’t a ruse to lower our guards?” Luna pulled Vital behind her.
The mare chuckled. “Please, do not group me together with these beings. I am here to investigate this strange occurrence within a potential guest.”
“We are here at the behest of Lord Igor, to defeat the shadow laying waste to our friend’s mind,” Luna noted.
“Lord Igor?” a puzzled look crossed her face, before she suddenly gasped in realization. “Ah, I understand. Though it is quite odd for my master to summon those who do not have the potential. In fact, it is almost unheard of.”
“It seems, then, that we are no enemy of yours, and you likewise are no enemy of ours,” Luna noted.
“With that out of the way, would you mind answering a question of mine?”
“Perhaps, after I’ve heard it,” Luna responded evenly.
“How do you intend to save your friend’s mind?”
“By defeating the shadow that’s attempting to control it. You did call it a shadow, right? As far as we can tell, that shadow is the reason why our friend can’t recall his true memories. And without those, the future of the other world is in jeopardy,” Vital explained as he stepped out from behind Luna.
“My, that sounds like it will be quite an interesting fight.” The mare chuckled. “A shame. I was looking forward to investigating his shadow as well.”
“I take it that means you intend to leave this cognitive plane, then?”
“Oh, goodness, no. I have not had this much fun since the last guest!”
“Vital,” Luna whispered, “I have the feeling this person is one card short of a cheese sandwich.”
“Luna, does it really matter, if she can handle herself?”
“We should take our leave as soon as we see an opening. Such ones can be … inconsistent.”
“She won’t hurt us, Luna. It would mean going against her master’s will.”
“Still.” Luna turned to the mare. “If you have no more questions, we have much more hunting to do, Miss….”
“Oh, forgive me. I am Keeper Eliz, and I am utterly neglecting my duties.”
“And I am Princess Luna. I don’t suppose you have seen a shadow resembling my companion in your journey?”
“I believe I saw a shadow such as him somewhere on the second floor. If I recall correctly, he was muttering something about intruders and homework.”
“... Wow. Do I really whine that much?” Vital sweatdropped.
“Some say that shadows are the utmost honest in their view of others,” Keeper smiled. “Though the same does not apply to shadows that lie, of course.”
“And I take it you’ve encountered both before?”
“Of course. Powerful shadows are unique, and I enjoy studying them in detail, including their physical strength.”
“Including or particularly?” Vital asked as his brow rose quizzically.
“Particularly,” Keeper chuckled. “One day, I hope to find a glue to granting a wish of mine lying within these powerful shadows.”
“I’m sorry, glue?”
“Flu?” Keeper looked puzzled for a moment. “Influenza...?” She shrugged. “Something along those lines, at any rate.”
“I’m going to take a shot in the dark here, and guess you mean clue.”
“In any case, I must be off. While this shadow was interesting, her power was disappointing. But I suppose that makes sense with a shadow created by a shadow.” She turned from the group towards another doorway. “Until next time!”
“Um … is there going to even be a next time?”
Before he could finish the statement, Keeper had already left the group alone, traveling off on her own.
“To the second floor, then?” Luna asked.
“Unless you wanted to raid this place for potential alchemical materials. We do have that option of creating new items back at the velvet room, if we have the right ingredients,” Vital pointed out.
“Thats was not the task we set out for,” Luna pointed out.
“Luna, it never hurts to be prepared. That being said, I suppose facing the other me is more important right now, since he moves around, and may not remain there for long, whereas we can always come back here later to search for said materials when we’re not so rushed.” He nodded. “Let’s get going, then.”
“To the second floor!” Luna announced as they started the long slog back up.
About five or ten minutes later, the pair were busy climbing the stairwell back up the tower. “You know, it’s really weird being back up here again,” Vital said as he looked farther up to the path that led to the parapets. “I mean, we snuck in here the first night, didn’t we?”
“Yes,” Luna said. “It seems to be a frequent point for us.”
“I guess now we have to figure out where this other me would have gone.”
“The library?”
“Considering this me was complaining about homework, I’m guessing he probably wouldn’t have gone there, but I suppose it’s as good a place as any to start.” Vital shrugged. “Now it’s just a matter of finding the right door.”
Through what had to be an absolute miracle, and a lot of last minute saves by Luna, the pair finally managed to find a door that took them to the library. As it had been with the torches along the halls, the lanterns and chandeliers that lined this great room also pulsed blue. A veritable maze of shelves stretched on and on, leaving both Ponies to gape at what, for all intents and purposes, should have been impossible.
“I’m betting on either time lord tech or some sort of manipulation via thaumic crystals. Luna, what do you think?” Vital asked.
“We are in a mental projection of Hamer Strike’s cognitive process, Vital Spark. The terrain can change at the drop of a bit.”
“Doesn’t mean it wouldn’t be grounded in some form of magic or science. This is supposed to be his idea of a perfected and efficient library at its full potential, right?”
“Such a library would, in my estimation, be maneuverable to make hunting for specific material easier.”
“Forbidden texts on necromancy?” Vital asked the library. Nothing happened. He shrugged. “Figured it was worth a shot.”
“I doubt we have clearance,” Luna said.
“So, any idea where the shadow me might go for his homework?”
“Where would you go?”
“Depends on the assignment.” Vital shrugged. “Usually, I just studied out of the resources Clover gave me, since the library at New Unity isn’t exactly at its full potential right now. I guess the me here would probably be grabbing the book he wants, before taking a seat to study, or maybe going to a practice area inside the library to put a spell into effect for an experiment?”
“Then the question is how we get there.”
“Running along the top of the shelves?”
“Possible,” Luna admitted.
“Hundreds of books line the shelves, perhaps thousands,” Hammer Strike’s voice echoed around them, followed by a sigh. “Why couldn’t any of it pertain to these unknown materials? Instead, it is bound by my own knowledge…”
“Hmm. That gives me an idea for what we might be looking for.”
“Yes?” Vital asked. “And please don’t tell me it’s Hammer Strike.” He shuddered. “I really don’t want to face that guy again.”
“Grif defeated his counterpart. It’s entirely likely Hammer Strike sent yours to review his plans for killing you. Perhaps that's where he is now,” Luna noted.
“I doubt that would be in an area that’s easy to access, considering this library is an embodiment of Hammer Strike’s mind. Those kinds of plans would be held in a restricted section, probably under heavy guard.” He tapped his chin as he pondered the situation. “This library is more vast than what we have at New Unity, but assuming its layout is similar, then the forbidden section should be somewhere in the Far corner, out of the way.”
“This way,” Luna said, starting off in a random direction.
“Are you trying to use your magic to probe the fabric of this section of Hammer Strike’s cognition?” Vital asked as he noted the slight glow to the princess’ horn.
“No, I am taking the path to the right and hoping I get lucky, just like Hammer Strike taught me to do.”
“Isn’t that just for mazes? Or was that supposed to be keeping left? I always have trouble remembering that one right.”
Luna turned to him, looked him in the eyes, and said sternly, “Always go right.”
Vital winced. “Point taken.”
“Now then, onwards and upwards, as the good Doctor says.” And without waiting, Luna began in her chosen direction.
Vital sighed and rolled his eyes. “In for a penny, in for a pound. All right, then. Allons-y,” he replied as he followed behind. “Do you want to mark, or should I?”
“It’s your double,” Luna returned.
“I meant mark where we’ve been, Luna,” Vital deadpanned. “This library is a maze, after all.”
“It will let us out when our work is done. Hammer Strike wouldn’t find satisfaction in locking us in here.”
“Are we talking your teacher or the shadow of him?”
“If we starve to death, he never proves himself the superior warrior. Hammer Strike is pragmatic, but not at the expense of his reputation.”
“Even if we end up killing his commanding officers one at a time?”
“Then our challenge grows.”
“You’re speaking from personal experience, aren’t you?”
“Would I be taking the chance, if not?”
Vital looked pensively at her for a time. “No. No, I don’t think you would.”
The corridors stretched on for what felt like an eternity. Books upon books stacked on either side, some covered in leather or bound weave, others in a flashy paperback cover. “Hey, look, he has manga in here,” Vital said. “I knew he couldn't really have forgotten it all.”
“Concentrate, Vital Spark. You have a battle to win,” Luna said.
“Yeah … this is gonna suck.” Vital sighed. “For all of me wanting to be able to contribute with everything, I still hate fighting.”
“Then you are a sadist,” Luna said simply.
“... Pretty sure this isn’t a fetish, Luna,” Vital deadpanned. Then he grimaced. “I wasn’t talking to you,” he grated softly.
“If you don’t fight this fight, this shadow takes over Hammer Strike and it will wreak insurmountable pain and havok on the world. You dread a fight that will stop a war later on. Therefore, you are dreading stopping the pain of countless others. The opposite of this would be joy. Thus, I can only assume you would have joy in this pain being inflicted, and that would be sadism.”
Vital shook his head. “How little you know me, Luna,” he sighed. “Thanks for the attempt at psyching me up psychologically, though. The thought is appreciated.”
“It’s merely an observation. The world is made up of sadists or masochists,” Luna shrugged. “The sadists sit back and let others suffer at the hands of others. They don’t lift a hoof to stop it. They simply act as though their noncombatance is helping, when all it is is to turn the head and act like nothing is wrong. Masochists like myself enjoy stepping in between and taking the pain on ourselves, so that it would not be felt by the undeserving. Thus, we take joy from our harm, and others enjoy seeing others come to harm.”
“So, you don’t necessarily enjoy the battle itself, just the thought of protecting others?”
“Oh, I do enjoy the battle, but that is because of genetic manipulation to a ridiculous level. My nervous system is rigged to reward me for the battlefield,” she said offhandedly.
“So it’s basically either sit and wait stupidly while others suffer or try to do what I can to stop said suffering from happening.”
“Precisely,” Luna nodded.
“Oh, this is gonna suck,” Vital groaned.
“Thus is life, and then you expire.”
“I take it you feel the tough love application is needed here more than your usual advice,” Vital deadpanned as they finally passed through the last weaving shelves to reach a massive stone vault door on swinging hinges. Skulls, bones, coffins, and other symbols pertaining to death had been intricately carved in reliefs along the edges of the frame, and cold blue fire burned from within. “Well, nothing says foreboding like skulls, bones, and a bunch of other dead things,” Vital said glibly.
“Go on,” Luna said as she nudged him ahead. “This is supposed to be your battle, remember?”
As the pair approached, the eyes in the skulls glowed red, and their mouths suddenly cracked open, raining down pebbles and dust, followed by a thick white mist that descended in a heavy curtain over the portal. “I’m getting a distinct feeling of deja vous from this, but I’m not entirely certain why,” Vital said with a frown as he passed beneath it. He shivered as the breathy air brushed over his body.
The door slammed shut behind him, and Vital reared in surprise, before letting out a startled whinny. After he got his breathing under control again, he turned around to stare at the door and sighed. “So … no way to retreat, and the element of surprise is now totally gone. Thanks, Luna.”
Vital passed on through the corridor, following the path deeper into the vault. His hoofsteps echoed hollowly over the ground as he pressed on. If there was one thing he knew about Hammer Strike, it was that he could be brutally efficient when he wanted to be. And considering the practicality Vital had shown on previous occasions, he was almost certain this other self would likely follow a similar tactic. Vital drew Watcher out and felt the reassuring flow of the magic stores he’d placed in the pearl. At the very least, the energy he’d tucked away could serve to bolster his reserves, and possibly level the playing field.
Finally, the passage rounded a corner to enter a titanic rotunda. Shelves upon shelves of books circled around them in a towering wall lined by a series of intermittently spaced silver ladders with bevelled triangular etching. A large stone plinth stood on the far end of the room, and a familiar white-furred Unicorn’s magic had just died away as he stepped aside to reveal a familiar leather-bound volume. His yellow eyes were hungry as he stared Vital Spark down.
“I wondered how long it would take you to buck up the courage to face me.” The shadow chuckled, even as his mouth split open into a manic grin. “Oh, and thanks for killing Clover, by the way. That bitch had it coming. I was hoping to do it myself, but … well, I suppose I did do it myself, now, didn’t I?”
“Vital Spark, I assume?”
“The one and only. Well, soon to be one and only. So, tell me, what finally convinced you to come and face me yourself?”
“Would you believe a pushy princess who thinks I have to face my own demons alone?” Vital said as he began to circle the room.
Shadow Vital let loose a throaty chuckle. “Might’ve known Doctor Moon would have something to do with it.”
“She does have millennia of experience dealing with psychology.”
“Oh, I know. I do so admire her work. The way she crushes a prisoner’s mind, how easily she can plunge it into insanity.” He licked his lips lustilly. “Delicious.”
“Well somebody’s got a sadistic streak.”
“And you don’t?”
“I prefer to keep mine in check. It takes a lot to get me to the point where I let it show. Control usually works out better, especially if you plan to be a good torturer. I’ve seen some of the signs of your work. They were rather shoddy.”
“Shoddy?”
“You chose to take it too far every time. I’m guessing you got so high on the screaming, you never noticed the breaking.” Vital motioned towards the plinth with his horn. “I assume that’s supposed to be the translation of the manuscript on thaumaturgy.”
The shadow laughed. “You honestly think Hammer Strike would let me anywhere near his copy?”
“No, but I figure he’d let you have access to the limited one. After all, how can you reach your full potential without a proper education?”
“A logical deduction. So, tell me, are we going to be crossing swords all night or are we actually going to end your life?”
“Well, you’re me. Or at least you’re supposed to be. What do you think?”
The shadow sneered as a black icicle jutted out from the floor, but Vital Spark was already gone by the time it had grown to its full height. Vital Spark raced through the room as his counterpart continued to conjure frozen stalagmites. Blood surged through the Unicorn’s ears as he bobbed and weaved, but he could see his room to maneuver disappearing. It was only a matter of time before his shadow had him boxed in. He slashed with a magically reinforced edge to cut through the tops of several of the structures, then levitated them to fire at his opponent in a deadly hail.
“Please.” Vital’s shadow rolled his eyes as a wall of blue energy rose up in front of him. He yawned as the shards embedded themselves. “Is that really the best you can do?”
Vital Spark shrugged, but otherwise chose to remain silent. The shadow was crafty, and he knew how easily talking could prove to be a distraction. In this case, it would be a deadly one. He barely had enough time to spin Watcherin his magic as the stalagmites thrust out with a web of shards. The ironwood proved a useful deterrent against the smaller limbs, but Vital knew it wasn’t a viable defense, especially given the fact he didn’t know how much he’d actually be able to handle, let alone how much more this other self could produce. A cold purple wafted around the shadow’s horn as it glowed with a thin layer of blue at its core.
“You could at least make this a little interesting,” the shadow said. “I’m not even warmed up yet. Come on. Make this fun.” He grinned manically at Vital Spark as he carved a swath with the energy from his horn to cut over the room, causing it to rain debris as Vital Spark dodged. His breath was growing labored as he stood next to one of the crystalline stumps.
“So, this is the me that would have been, if I didn’t listen to my conscience.” Vital chuckled. “A psychopath with too much time on his hands. Go figure.”
“Oh, not nearly enough, I assure you.” A cold mist began to rise from the floor. “So much theory to memorize, so many arrogant Ponies to put in their places, so many sanctimonious hypocrites to kill.” He laughed as he turned his head at an unhealthy angle. His eyes widened to the point where they were practically all eyeball and no eyelid. “To kill and kill and kill and kill and kill!” His mane writhed as the pressure in the room increased and the magic began to gather around his horn, expanding to nigh-unwieldy proportions. “Come on, little saint, let me hear you scream!”
Vital Spark shivered as he felt the droplets that condensed on his fur freeze into tiny icicles. He jumped to the side just in time as the magic his shadow had gathered smashed into the ground. A column of energy surrounded the shelves as each of the ladders suddenly pulsed to life with bright white runes. Their metal pieces suddenly extended from the sides to form tines that channeled the power between them, rising up higher and higher to create a barrier as the pillars of ice shattered and their shards rebounded again and again, whizzing through the air.
Vital Spark gasped as the shards pelted at him from all sides. The cold air bit at his throat and lungs, sucking away moisture and causing his breath to hitch as he struggled to keep his intake steady. He grit his teeth in an attempt to deny the shadow its satisfaction, but ultimately failed as a shard sliced cleanly across the flesh between the gaskin and cannon of his equine anatomy. The cutting burned, and he let out a low cry that was almost like a sob. He raised his own horn and the mist swirled around him faster and faster, thicker and thicker, until a veritable curtain of water had formed. He scrunched his eyes shut as he clutched at Watcher and willed the surface to freeze. The water stilled with a sickening crack and congealed to the floor, forming an icy cocoon. The tattoo of ice shards pelted like hail as they crashed and embedded against the surface. He fired a concentrated beam at the shell to thicken its surface and reinforce against the blows, until he was confident of the integrity.
Eventually, the bombardment ceased. Vital Spark took advantage of the moment to pull out the stopper on one of his potions and douse the wound liberally. It stung briefly, then glowed and began to close. “Thank you, Mist Mane and Meadowbrook,” he breathed as he watched the vapor of his breath rise in the air in front of him. Still, he knew it was no time to rest. The cold was still seeping into his body, and now he was trapped. While the area was insulated well enough, he doubted the shadow would give him the time he needed to rest. Any mercy that version of him had once possessed had likely been completely removed by his rearing under this Shadow Strike.
Vital Spark sighed as he felt the warmth of his body slowly heat the small dome, allowing the ice on his fur to return to droplets that streamed down his legs and body like cold blades. He shuddered and shook his body to spray off any excess he could manage. That was when the shadow struck. A frigid sensation struck against his barrel, and Vital Spark jumped out of the way, only to see a pressurized jet of water shooting up from the ground beneath to spatter against the haven’s roof. Vital Spark rushed over and stomped his hoof over the offending spot, but watched in dismay as more water popped up in jet after jet. The whole floor buckled, then burst apart as a flood of water crashed into the shelter, flooding it to the brim. Vital Spark’s eyes widened as the icy shell returned to its liquid state and a grinning shadow stared back up at him.
“I can’t believe you actually thought you could take control of myspell.” He laughed. “Now that’s just plain stupid. We’re smarter than that, aren’t we? Or could it just be that I’m the better stallion?”
Vital kicked for all he was worth as he struggled to swim to the edge of the sphere.
“Ah, ah, ah,” the shadow chided. The cold returned with crushing force as the water shifted to foil Vital’s efforts. The Unicorn’s eyes widened in horror as the spidery white veins began to spread out from the water’s edge, and he struggled harder. His horn lit up, but nothing came as the freezing increased its pace. Watcher twitched a few times from its place on the floor, then was still as the water finished crystallizing, leaving a perfectly preserved Unicorn gaping helplessly out.
The shadow chortled as he picked Vital Spark’s focus up off the floor. “I think I’ll call you ‘Death of a Conscience.’ It has a nice ring to it. Don’t you agree?” He tapped the icy ball’s surface as he sneered in at the Unicorn. “Then again, I suppose it won’t matter for much longer, anyway. Soon you’ll be dead, and I’ll get to give Hammer Strike the good news. I do solove to please him. And with Grif and Clover dead, well … there’s just so much room to climb now, isn’t there? He’ll have no choice but to rely on me. Mmm … any second now.”
At that moment, three things happened simultaneously: a veritable surge of energy flooded out from the pearl on Vital Spark’s focus to suffuse the icy prism, an ominous crackling snapped defiantly from the orb, and lastly, the whites in Vital Spark’s eyes turned utterly black.
Then all hell broke loose.
The crystalline shell shattered with a vicious detonation, sending chunks of ice as large as a Minotaur’s head smashing against floor, wall, and barrier as a dual-toned chuckle echoed around the room. “Aww, isn’t that sweet? Little boy Vital wants to play with the adults.” Two icy blue orbs glowed in the mists the detonation had left behind as a deep purple haze wafted out from the black iris. “Oh, but he doesn’t know the rules, does he? No, of course he doesn’t. He’s not ready for that kind of responsibility. No, leave him with his toys in the dungeon. Don’t come crying to us when they break, though. They’re your responsibility.”
“Shut up!” The shadow fired a concentrated beam at the Pony, but the orbs flickered, and then were gone as the mists parted. The flames began to go out one by one.
“Tell me, little boy, are you still afraid of the dark?” The voice seemed to come from everywhere, bouncing back and forth from ceiling to shelves to floor. “You’re not the only one. Mmm … fear is such an … interesting thing, so useful for crippling the will. If I’d had the chance with you, oh, the things we could have done. Ah, but there’s the pity. You may have gotten rid of your conscience, but I know the hand the freezes your heart,” the voice whispered sinuously.
The shadow brandished Watcher with practiced ease as he glared into the deepening shadow. “Where are you?” he whispered to himself.
“Over here,” the voice whispered and sighed among the shelves. The shadow felt something brush against his mane, and whirled the staff around to strike, only to cut through empty air.
“Or perhaps I’m over there,” the voice began again, and the shadow growled as it fired a beam into the twisting fog.
“God, it feels good to be out of that cage,” Vital’s voice cried exultantly.
“I’ll try to make it more comfortable next time,” the shadow growled as his eyes darted around the room.
“Oh, I wasn’t talking about your little bauble. Frankly, it was shoddy work. Oh, very artistic in a vain sort of way, but usually it’s best to actually, oh, you know, kill your prey first, before you try to immortalize them in ice. Honestly, you’re hardly a blip on the scale. The only reason you managed to get this far is because of a pacifistic nature and a lack of real combat experience. I don’t have either.” He chuckled again. “Did you know this guy actually kept me locked up for over twenty years? Seriously, he may be a weakling, but his will is something else when he puts his mind to it.”
A rustle of movement caught the shadow’s attention as another torch gutted out.
“But that’s neither here nor there. I’m out, the shadows are spreading, you’re dead…. Oh, wait.” There was a brief wrenching sensation, and the shadow Vital suddenly found himself without a weapon. “Guess who,” whispered in his ear, and he whipped his head around just in time for him to register a curious wet sensation running down his neck. He touched a hoof there, and pulled it back to sniff. The strong scent of copper assaulted his nostrils, and he snorted in rage.
“Where are you?” the shadow snarled. “Face me!”
“And ruin the fun? I thought you wanted to play with the big boys. Didn’t you know the adults don’t play fair?” The voice chuckled again as the glowing eyes danced in the shadows. “I’d tell you to take some notes, little one, but you’re not going to need them where you’re going.” Ghostly wails and phantom shrieks began to keen outside the small circle of light the shadow’s horn projected. The grating of claws and slavering jaws mingled with sensual moans and nauseating squelches. Green and red and orange and purple flashed as the darkness beyond rippled and pressed. “So many horrors to choose. So many ways to make you squirm, make you writhe, make you suffer,” the voice said with unsavory relish. “It’s not so much fun being on the receiving end, is it? Well, it’s fun for me. I’m not so sure about you.”
“You think a little shadow play is going to scare me? Pathetic!” A barrage of pellets fired from the shadow’s horn as it fired blindly into the darkness beyond.
“Oh, but this is so very much more than a game.” The shadow Vital cried out as a tentacle lunged from the pressing dark beyond to slash at his shadow, only for a bloody gash to form on his shoulder. “This … is very, very real. And I’m going to take my time with you.”
The fake Vital Spark shouted angrily as he reared, then smashed his hooves onto the floor. A frigid blanket of ice cracked and spread out over the stone, and he swiveled his ears as he listened for the familiar crackle as it spread up the objects surrounding them.
“I’m sorry. I assume that was supposed to immobilize me, perhaps give you an indication of where I am?”
The shadow’s head darted left and right as he tried to pinpoint the voice. One moment it came from the front, the next off to the side. “How are you doing this? You shouldn’t be able to dothis.”
The darkness seemed almost to writhe with Vital Spark’s laughter. “Hammer Strike isn’t the only one with secrets,” the voice hissed. Then the Pony stepped out from the darkness, his eyes still flaring. “You think you’ve touched evil?” Another Vital Spark followed. “You think you know of depravity?” A third one emerged. “You think you understand the nature of darkness?” They began to advance. “You poor simpleton.”
The fake Vital Spark roared his defiance as he cut and slashed with beams of light from his horn. The approaching ponies broke apart to merge into the darkness, only for another shade to take their place.
“I was born in the darkness, little colt, molded by it, shaped little by little. An unanswered slight, a blistering slur, a lick of pride, a kiss of lust, the fires of rage, the seed of hate. All these things, and so much more, fed me, sustained me, helped me to grow, until I became something more than a figment.” The twin-toned voice chuckled, and that chuckle became a cacophony as the shades continued their advance, all with twisted grins and open mouths. “But you know the worst part? Despite my gaining sentience, despite having all this potential bottled up and away, just waiting to be tapped, that stupid kid wouldn’t let me out to play. You know how that is, don’t you, little Unicorn?” The shades sneered. “After all this time, Hammer Strike still won’t trust you. And Clover would never acknowledge you.”
“Shut up!” Again, the shades burst apart. Again, they reformed and advanced. The light had nearly all gone now. A single flame flickered weakly in its embrasure overhead, a last dying star.
“Make me.”
The room was silent for a time. Then the false Vital’s sides began to heave as what started like a sob rose into manic laughter, while his head shot up. His yellow eyes flashed as his face twisted into a deranged grin. His horn lit up, and the cold blue aura flickered in the shadows rising higher and higher along the bookshelves. He cocked his head at an unwholesome angle as he cackled exultantly. “Let’s go one farther. I’ll unmake you! Right here and right now! We’ll go together!”
The sound of wrenching metal snapped as Vital Spark suddenly stood locking his horn with his clone. One eye was the same black with glowing blue iris. The other was his normal white with blue. “No,” he said calmly as the sound of metal whistled through the air. The dual tone had shifted, calming to the point where the two could hardly be distinguished. He slammed the head of his focus at the base of the shadow’s horn, then shoved under the shadow’s barrel to raise it up on its hind legs. A sickening thunk and a juicy splatter squashed as metal pierced flesh. “I don’t think you will.”
The shadow coughed as a dark fluid burbled out his mouth to stain his chin. The light in his horn flickered as the crystals his aura had prepared to crush returned to normal. He gurgled, pawed weakly at Vital Spark’s chest, then collapsed as the light in his eyes glazed over.
Vital Spark flicked his horn and the torches relit themselves as he watched the shadow’s body disintegrate. The piece of the ladder he’d torn from one of the bookcases clattered to the floor. He sighed then and closed his eyes. When he opened them again, the black was gone. He shook his head as he approached the remains. The shadows had coalesced into a long white robe with reinforced metal plates on the shoulders and chest. A yin-yang symbol had been engraved and burnished on its front. The fibers beneath it shimmered, revealing fine chain-like patterns that flickered gold, then white again. A gold-embroidered hood hung back along the shoulders, while the sleeves had been embroidered in silver. On a whim, Vital Spark tapped the symbol on the chestplate, and his eyes widened as the colors shifted to black and gray. The light seemed almost to bend around it and the plates, while the embroidery had shifted to scarlet.
“... Flashy,” Vital muttered as he picked it up. “I just hope this thing wasn’t used for his torture sessions.” He stowed it away in one of his packs, then clopped slowly back down the hall, using Watcher for support. His body shook terribly as he knocked against the stone door. “Hey, Luna.” He managed a weak smile as he looked at the princess. “I did it.”
“And how do you feel?”
“Is it normal to say like crap?” He chuckled mirthlessly to himself.
“More than you realize.” Luna returned his chuckle with her own. “Come. We need to leave, before the reaper knows we’re here.”
Vital Spark drew himself up and took a deep breath. “Then let’s go. You and I can talk details later. I … need to sort some things out with you.”
“Good morning,” Gabriel offered to Golden Oak as he and New Moon entered. Both looked ragged and tired but cheerful enough.
Golden Oak gave a faint wave as he continued to look at his work. “Where were you two, anyways? I didn’t see you at all last night.”
“We had some unfortunate circumstances, while tracking some rather nasty nocturnal pests,” New Moon explained.
Golden Oak hummed in response. “Makes sense, I suppose. Though I do have one question.”
“And that would be?” Gabriel asked.
Blackened fire erupted from Golden Oak’s hooves as the two found themselves suddenly shoved to the ground with an immense force. After a moment, the tan Pony turned towards the group with a familiar darkness in his eyes. “How are you still getting in?”
“H-how?” Grif asked, struggling to loosen his grasp.
“Each day, his grasp is lessened,” he explained as he began moving towards them. “I figured, if I can’t kill you in my own mind, I’ll deal with you here, unless you want to blow your cover? I know you can fight back against this, but you won’t be able to hide yourselves after doing it.”
“Igor said you wouldn’t have control for a few days yet at the very least.” Grif attempted to grab for his katana as he struggled against the pressure.
Shadow Strike raised his brow questioningly for a moment, before shaking his head. “You won’t delay me any more.” He grabbed hold of one of his axes. “I don’t have all the time in the world just yet….”
“You really think this will free you? You’ll just piss him off, wherever you have him in there, and we both know what happens then.”
“Oh, but he’s not in here. That’s the best part,” the shadow smiled. “The only half of me that is in here is Golden Oak, and he’s not even conscious. He won’t know what happened, and once this is all through, it’ll end in one of two ways.”
“You forget, you exist as part of Hammer Strike’s psyche,” Luna laughed. “Your Golden Oak, that nice little palace you live in? That’s all part of Hammer Strike. Does it strain you when the walls fight back, knowing that with one false step, you’ll lose everything?”
“They don’t fight back as much as you would like to think,” he said as he applied more pressure to hold the two down.
“Then why are you starting to sweat?” Grif snickered.
The shadow sighed. “Fine. I may not have full control yet, but I suppose I don’t have to deal with you just yet either. The time is drawing near, and I doubt you’ll make it in time to stop me.”
“I guess we’ll have to see.”
The shadow threw the axe off to the side, before he rubbed his forehead. The pressure over Grif and Luna lessened, then disappeared entirely. After a moment, Golden Oak opened his eyes again, before suddenly tensing. “Gabriel, New Moon, when did you both come in?”
“A few minutes ago,” Gabriel offered, panting. “We had a difficult hunt last night.”
“I hope we didn’t disturb you,” New Moon offered.
“No, I don’t think you did.” He rubbed at the side of his head. “Sorry, I think I might have been too focused on work. Might take a break today.”
“That sounds like a good idea. Some rest would do you good, my friend,” Gabriel said. Golden Oak nodded slightly and hummed to himself as he made his way up the stairs to his bedroom. Grif watched him, and listened for the door to close, before turning to look grimly at Luna. “Get Vital over here. Our timetable just shifted.”
Extended Holiday Ch 136: If These Shadows Have Offended Act 21
Feather Blade opened his eyes and went to move from his bed roll, only to stiffen as an involuntary yelp passed his lips. He groaned as the pain began to soften. “That hurts.” He looked around the tent nervously, hoping no one saw his moment of weakness.
“You took a bad hit in the side. I’m no medical expert, but I’d say you damaged something.” Gabriel looked to Yvetal. “You’re the healer.”
“Technically, I’m more of an alchemist, but I suppose I can try to take a look.” Yvetal approached and prodded the Pegasus’ chest gently. “How does this feel? Tell me where it hurts.”
Feather Blade hissed and whacked Yvetal in the muzzle. “I cracked a rib,” he said testilly. “I’ve been through that enough to know. Don’t touch it.”
Yvetal rubbed his smarting nose. “I just wanted to make sure, Feather Blade. No need to get so upset. If any of them have been broken, then they need to be set. Assuming they’re only cracked, then we’ll just need something to bind them up, while they heal. You wouldn’t happen to have any sort of wraps I can use around his barrel, would you, Gabriel? He’ll need something to keep his ribs steady. And no heavy work or lifting either, until they’re whole again.”
“Take anything you need.” Gabriel tossed him a sack. Inside were random herbs and bits of cloth for bandages.
“It’ll take a long while for these to heal sufficiently on their own. I’ll consult my books and see if I can’t find something that can help speed things along. Otherwise, I’m afraid he won’t be doing much for the next month and a half at least,” Yvetal said as he levitated the bandages out and began to wrap them around the Pegasus’ barrel.
“Well, you keep moving and doing what needs to be done, then. I guess the doc and I shall keep the camp warm for your return,” Feather Blade groused, even as he grit his teeth at the pressure from the bandaging.
“Probably for the best, anyways,” Yvetal yawned. “We could all use a good rest.”
“Yeah … make sure that … what happened yesterday doesn’t repeat itself?” Pensword fluffed his feathers and winced as Yvetal tied off the bandages.
“We may not have a month and a half,” Luna said.
“That is why I am worried. You need to change the mayor’s stance on outsiders, and … take care of Hammer Strike. Those are the only two goals I can think of from that world.”
“Like I said, give me time to check my books. I may be able to find something to help speed things along. Until then, though, you’re ground bound, mister. And no training exercises either,” Yvetal insisted.
“Yes, Sir,” Feather Blade replied with a smirk.
“Cheeky.” Yvetal laughed.
“Tonight, the two of us will hunt our special prey. Then we’ll have to decide how to proceed,” Gabriel said.
“You’ll keep us informed, right?” Feather Blade asked.
“If we’re fortunate, then we should be able to return, having been successful. I only pray it will be enough.”
“If things are going like they did the last few days, then it will be. What do you think, Yvetal?”
“I think it would be foolish to underestimate our ultimate opponent. You remember what he did to you last time, Feather Blade. And we only beat him then by sheer dumb luck.”
“But we can plan now for it.”
“No, we can’t,” Gabriel said. “Last time, we never saw his full potential. Like Yvetal said, we got lucky. We won’t know what he’s capable of, until we fight him.” His voice carried a harsh edge to it as he bent down to Feather Blade’s ear and said, “You’re an officer. For the sake of whatever god you want to use, start acting like it.”
“Gabriel, I saw the fight. I know what he’s capable of from our first fight, and I already bank on him being a hundredfold more powerful. I have a plan cooking, but the first step is to have hope. We can have all the weapons we want, but without hope, we’ll break easier.”
“In the words of Sun Tsu, ‘He who enters the fight prepared to live, he must surely die. He who enters the fight prepared to die, he may yet live.’ Wisdom to live by.”
“I never said anything about living or dying there. I said hope to succeed. I mean, I have a cracked rib right now. I’m ready to die for our Hammer Strike to come back. You know I would give my life for another. I’m just trying to understand. I fully admit I’m not fully versed on thaumaturgy, and frankly, Shawn always, and I do mean always, makes me throw out my book. I truly don’t know if I could ever have a Dark Sun plan for if that monster succeeds in coming to the real world permantifly. I am also a thousand years out of time. So forgive me, if I have lost my edge, but since remerging my mind, I have lost a bit of the old fire and brimstone.”
“Well then, I hope, for your daughter's sake, that you find it again.” Gabriel’s face was screwed up in anger as he turned for the tent’s open flap. “‘Cause I’d hate to be the one to have to put her down,” he said flatly as he left.
“I will try to find it again, Gabriel,” Feather Blade whispered. “I hope to Faust I can succeed.” A moment later, he hissed in pain. “Get to work, Yvetal. I want to be fighting fit again!” he snapped.
“Don’t get all huffy with me. I’m not the one who threw the book at you. At least not yet,” Yvetal said as he pulled out a few tomes from his satchels. “And for goodness’ sake, stop squirming so much! The best medicine for you right now is rest. It’s not like I have a recipe for skelegrow on hand.”
“He’s right, you know,” New Moon finally spoke up.
“Okay, not to sound vain here, but did you mean me or Gabriel?” Yvetal asked.
“Gabriel,” New Moon clarified. “Last time we fought him, he took the two of us out without so much effort as one might give an ant. And you were in better shape at the time, Feather Blade.”
“I know, but my thaumic field is stronger now,” Feather Blade countered, then looked away. “Truth be told, I … I’m scared of what I saw in there. I thralled spirits. It’s unsettling, seeing the darkness I could have been muzzle to muzzle. Yevtal has heard I looked into the dark heart of a race and chose to see their good, but seeing the evil I could do, had I chosen a similar path….” He sighed heavily, then winced. “I’ll be ready as soon as I’m healed. I need thee to teach me to tap into my feral and control it, though, preferably in a way that won’t scare everypony in the village.”
“For now, heal. Afterwards, we’ll have much work to do.” She sighed “I think it is prudent we set the mayor problem aside and focus on what matters.”
“Understood. Leave what we found about the mayor in the hooves of thy sister, without letting her know we are here.”
“Best to do it after we finish the business we came here for. If she gets wind and comes too early, while we’re all here, things could get … complicated,” Yvetal noted.
“Nay. Once we have accomplished our purpose here, we will be heading back to our time.”
“So how do we make sure that the Ponyville of the future appears? Because the mayor now is a roadblock.”
“Let the Apples know,” Yvetal said with a shrug. “Give them the proof. They’re the ones who own the deed, so they can kick out whoever they choose, can’t they?”
“I shall leave that up to New Moon to do, as she is an Earth Pony.”
“The future is set. We will alert the Apples, if we can. If not, we will accept this is not our matter to solve.”
“New Moon, you and I differ on what is set in stone and what is not, but I respect your decision. Now you go with Gabriel. I will do my best to recover here.”
“Faust and Sleipnir both be with you,” Yvetal said.
“And with you,” she replied, stepping through the tent’s flaps and out of sight.
“So … the observatory?” Grif asked as he and Luna moved through the halls.
“It’s where we’re most likely to find her,” Luna said. The two were making a rapid place through the palace towards said building. With Grif’s stealth and Luna’s shadow manipulation, even on its limited scale, the two were able to bypass most of the guards they came across. “It’s our favorite place. He’ll know that.”
“Okay, so how is it you seem to know which way to go?” Grif asked.
“A hunch,” Luna admitted. “I’ve been trying to use some of the baser things I know about Hammer Strike to determine the layout.”
“Doesn’t the layout change?”
“I didn’t say it was a precise line of thinking.”
“Fair enough, I suppose,” Grif shrugged.
The two kept in silence for the rest of their journey as they criss-crossed the labyrinth of halls. It took them roughly half an hour before they finally found the final staircase leading up to the room where Luna was sure she’d find her double.
The inside of the observatory was something else entirely. The minute they stepped inside, Grif felt his wings open to instinctively catch him. Everything round them was black with traces of dark blue and tiny points of silver dotted around everywhere. He could feel the floor beneath them, but his inability to see it was causing his brain to act like he was in free fall.
“Leave, Grif,” Luna commanded bluntly.
“What?” he asked shocked.
“I have no doubts of your ability. And if I prove unable to defeat my double, it will fall to you to do so in my stead, but there is clearly not enough space in this room for me to fight and keep track of you. As one warrior to another, do me this favor and leave.”
Grif grimaced. It felt wrong to leave her, but he supposed in this situation she had to know best. He went through the mental checklist of things he’d gotten since this adventure had started and opened his pack, moving through the items as quickly as he could. He pulled out a warhammer he’d retrieved during one of his stealth kills and a healing orb. He threw both to Luna. She caught them with a nod. Grif moved to the single portal to the outside in the massive night sky around them. The second he was through, the door shut.
“We’re alone now. You can show yourself,” Luna said, stowing the orb and swinging the hammer a few times. Across the void, a crescent of light appeared. It had a strange ethereal quality to it, having no definite shape, yet quite obviously forming a blade. Then the shaft began appearing, with that same sort of tenuousness. The entire weapon seemed formed of a dull blue energy which encased a bright silver mist. It only took the princess a moment to realize the weapon was fully utilized moonlight.
The lunar Alicorn had been using moonlight to forge for years, but she’d never been able to make a corporeal form of pure moonlight. She’d always needed a base to start with, a metal which, as she worked it, absorbed the moonlight and built upon it, creating moonsteel. And yet, somehow, this other self, this shadow, had managed to take their art a step further. Luna found herself slightly in awe of that.
And then those deep yellow eyes appeared with their wicked draconic slits. A high-pitched cackle filled the air, followed by the all too familiar figure of Nightmare Moon in all her glory standing across from Luna.
“Well well. You did come. That's just so … typical.” Her tone dripped with condescension. “Luna’s a big girl. Luna fights her own battles. Luna’s big and Luna’s tough, and she doesn’t need anyone else,” the shadow taunted.
“Self reliance is hardly scornful,” Luna responded to her shadow.
“Oh, it’s self reliance, is it? It’s self reliance when we tried to stop our dear sister? When we tried to blot out the sun? Yes, I’m sure self reliance has served us well.” The only response was a cold glare from the lunar Alicorn. “Oh, what's this? No fiery defense?”
“I know what you desire me to say, witch. You want me to say it was all you, that I was fooled by a wandering parasite, but I’ve accepted what I did. I’ve made peace with the fact that I am as much to blame as the parasite.”
“Oh, Lulu, you’re just no fun when you're acting all noble,” the Nightmare tisked. And then she lunged. The two clashed. Scythe met hammer and the two weapons let out a shower of sparks as they slammed against each other again and again. And with each exchange of blows, angry red gauges were left behind on the hammer’s surface.
Even with her Alicorn endurance and strength, Luna could feel the aftershock of the blows with every hit. She was losing ground quickly. She ducked and rolled as the hammer head finally gave out and shattered. She only just missed decapitation as she hit the floor. Luna began firing spells as she dodged scythe swings. The spells were easily darted away or dodged, not that she’d expected them to be tremendously effective. Not alone, anyway. She managed to avoid lethal blows; however, several large cuts welled blood, and the number increased with every dodge.
“What's wrong, Lulu? I’m standing right in front of you, and you can’t hit me once?” the Nightmare teased. “Maybe Celestia would be a real challenge.”
Luna responded to this by moving right up to the Nightmare and smashing the flat part of their muzzles together, narrowly avoiding impaling herself on her double’s horn. Both reeled back from the impact, but Luna grinned as her horn glowed.
“I learned something a while back, something it seems Hammer Strike forgot about. The value of a good feint.”
It was at that moment the Nightmare realized the number of stars had increased. She hadn’t noticed it before, due to the combat, but she was certain there where more. Her pupils dilated as realization came to her.
“Try this on for size. Thanatos meteor shower!” Luna’s horn glowed brighter as the dozens of spell orbs that had been deflected or purposefully missed increased their mass a thousand times in an instant and shot towards the gravitational pull of the entity they had been tied to with an arcane tether.
The shadow screamed in pain as numerous impossibly heavy strikes began hitting her at once from all directions. Bones cracked and popped as they were crushed under the onslaught. The scythe fell to the ground as one meteor struck and broke the shadow’s horn, causing it to land tip first into the ground. As the spell began to wane, Luna grabbed the blade in her own magic and raised it. The weapon gleamed behind her with divine fire as she approached her double. The shadow would never know for sure, but it was certain before it died that it looked up to see the princess, and superimposed behind her was the monster she had been crafted to resemble, only this one was taller and more terrifying, with brilliant green-blue slitted eyes shining in the light of the weapon. She let out a gurgle of fear, and then the blade flashed, and the shadow knew no more.
Luna looked down at the pile of armor where her shadow had been. She picked up the all too familiar head piece with a slight apprehension. Staring into the helmet of Nightmare Moon was one thing. Wearing it would be quite another. Last time she had done so, she’d wound up on the moon for a thousand years.
“I suppose it cannot be helped,” Luna sighed, then placed the helmet on her head. She shed the armor she’d picked up from all the party’s travels through the cognitive plane and replaced it with the armor of her shadow. Next she withdrew the orb Grif had given her and used it, letting her wounds heal, if only enough to stop the bleeding. Then she willed the door to open, and it did so. She nodded to the waiting Gryphon.
“Come, Grif. We need to return. Tomorrow….” she trailed off as a wave of dizziness overcame her. It would seem she was somewhat more exhausted than she realised.
“Tomorrow, we start to hunt.” Grif nodded his understanding, and the two headed for the exit.
“Well, admittedly, there is one thing that we could try, assuming I can’t find a remedy in here,” Yvetal said as he continued flipping through the pages in his tomes from his place next to the fire pit. “When Gri–” he cleared his throat “–I mean Gabriel fought his shadow, he took a pretty heavy beating, too. I had to give him a bunch of those healing orbs we picked up. They took care of the gravest of his injuries, so one of them might be able to fix up your cracked rib problem, assuming we can get one.”
“That sounds like a good plan. Let’s go with that as a secondary goal. Third goal would be … I am out for a week for this rib to fully heal.”
“That depends on if your field allows your ribs to heal that quickly or not. Otherwise, you’ll risk breaking them, and having that in the middle of the big bad battle is nothing short of an invitation to catastrophe.”
“Right, so … we wait.” He fiddled with the grass for a time, laying back onto the ground to watch a taller stalk dance on the breeze between his teeth. “Any books I can read? I’m bored.”
“You could always try napping. Haven’t you been practicing some sort of lucid dreaming technique?”
“And what makes you think I’m practicing lucid dreaming?” Feather Blade asked warily.
“One, your current reaction to the question. Two, I have ears. One tends to overhear things from time to time.” He shrugged. “Lunar Fang and Fox Feather mentioned something about it when I was visiting Moon River.”
Feather Blade frowned. “I clearly need to have a word with those two when I get back,” he groused, then sighed. “But there is some merit in your words, I suppose. I’ll try to get some sleep. Got anything to knock me out?”
Yvetal raised his staff in his magic.
“You really want to risk a concussion?” Feather Blade asked with a raised brow. “And you seem to take after Gabriel. He does that a lot.”
Yvetal shrugged. “My mentor has a wry sense of humor. I’ll see what I can whip up. It may take some time, though, since I’d likely have to boil the ingredients over a fire. Can you wait?”
“I can. I’ll try to fall asleep in the meantime. Got nothing else to do.”
“Good idea. If I happen to start rambling or singing, don’t mind me. I like to be a bit random sometimes.” And with that, Yvetal went to work, pulling out a kettle and filling it with some water from the camp’s supplies. A few sparks from his horn later, and the fire was crackling merrily again in the pit. All in all, it took about a half hour to finish the concoction to Yvetal’s liking. Then he poured the beverage into a wooden bowl and passed it to the Pegasus. “Drink.”
The Pegasus opened his eyes, and took the bowl in his wings, then downed the contents. “How fast will this stuff work?”
“Do a few deep breathing exercises. You’ll know,” Yvetal said as he began packing up his wares.
Feather Blade tried to take a deep breath, but the pain from the rib kept him from going too far.
“Give it a few minutes. I added a pain killer in there to ease your breathing,” Yvetal said. It should kick in in the next twenty minutes or so.”
The Unicorn shrugged. “Outcasts take care of each other. It only seems fair, don’t you think?” he asked as he returned the smile.
“Indeed, and someday that will be the norm for this entire town. They’ll help out everypony.”
“Here’s hoping they can reach that day sooner, rather than later.”
Hammer Strike’s shadow muttered to himself as he wandered the halls of his own mind. The concept of existing in a place like this would be considered by most as some level of insanity. After all, who would believe entering and existing within the mind in a cognitive plane of existence. After some time looking through it, he was able to determine it was real in at least some sense of the word.
The fact that others on the outside could get inside had upset him to the point of making a horrible mistake: the creation of his soldiers. He growled as he thought on it. “I’m a moron. Creating beings in this place only results in draining myself,” he muttered.
It only made him more furious when they defeated the shadow of Luna he had created. He’d spent hours working on her to ensure she would be perfect for battle, only for her to actually fall in battle against her counterpart.
And that damned scythe. Why’d it have to stick around? It couldn’t have been like the other weapons and materials and vanished to leave something else behind. No. Instead, he had placed too much effort into it, and now it was in her possession.
One of the shadows in armor saluted him as he passed, leaving him with the second thing on his mind. While he had created the shadows of his friends and family, the guards roaming the place had been there since he first came to. When they were defeated, nothing happened to him in scales of energy, and they dropped odd materials when killed by the group from the outside. Whenever he attempted to deal with the knights, it resulted in nothing being dropped.
From the beginning, they addressed him as ruler, as they should. But without knowing more about them, it left him with a sense of unease, despite them showing no signs of rebellion. They couldn’t answer any questions about what they were, apart from saying they were his guard, selected to take this task.
Without full control of his body, he was unable to fully utilize the thaumic field to his advantage, leaving him to rely on the shadows and guards to assist in dealing with the intruders. He was close, so close that he could take control for brief moments of time. The first time had been by accident, but the results were interesting, to say the least. If he’d only had a minute more, he could have been able to subdue his foes, leaving them in at least a state that would make them unable to continue fighting in the cognitive world.
He grumbled to himself as he moved towards his study. He needed to plan things out to ensure the optimal outcome for the fight that was drawing near. He wouldn’t give up, not while he was this close to gaining control.
Yvetal groaned and stretched as he stepped outside the tent. He cracked his back and neck, then proceeded to go stoke the embers of the fire, adding kindling, until he had a proper blaze going. The strange light and non-light that was the twilight hour filled the air with a sense of mystery as he looked out over the rest of the developing settlement. A gentle breeze carried the scent of fresh dew and rich grass, and he sighed in contentment as he levitated a kettle and tripod over the flames.
“And how is the patient?” Gabriel’s voice was heard just before he and New Moon entered the camp. The Pony bore several new scars and carried a most intriguing weapon on her back.
“Sleeping. I gave him a brew to help him relax. Since we’ll be facing you know who next, I was considering the possibility of speeding his recovery by going to the cognitive plane and using one of those red orbs. They certainly seemed to help restore you, Gabriel, and you were in far worse condition.”
“Possible, but I think we used our last one,” Gabriel said.
“Well, that sucks,” Yvetal sighed. “I suppose we could see if we have enough to synthesize some sort of a restorative item. We’ve certainly been harvesting enough.”
“Do you have any idea how to do that?” Gabriel asked.
“Have you seriously forgotten, Gabriel? I’m … actually kind of surprised. Your mind’s usually like a trap.” Yvetal levitated the lid off the kettle and tossed in a few herbs from some pouches. “That girl from the Velvet Room said she would make things for us, if we had the right ingredients. All we have to do is check with her, and bring everything we’ve harvested. There’s bound to be some sort of healing item we can make.”
“I’ve had a lot on my mind.” Gabriel glared at the Pony. “A lot a lot.”
Yvetal winced. “Okay, I’ll admit I deserved that visual scolding. How about I make up for it by treating the three of you in town later?”
“I don’t think there’s a place in this town I could get business,” he stated.
“But I can, even if they charge a little extra. Worst case scenario, I could order some things to go and bring them back here.”
“That will probably have to do, but for now, can you look at New Moon’s cuts, make sure nothing's going to get infected?”
“That, I can most certainly do.” He clopped over to New Moon and began by taking a cloth to wash the dried blood from her fur. “By the way, where’d you get the scythe from?”
“My double,” New Moon said. “I have no clue why it’s still here.”
“I’m guessing it needs some analysis later, then. Maybe once we get Hammer Strike back, he can tell us about it.”
“I hope so,” she nodded.
“So what’s the plan, then? Do we have any idea where to go to get to him? Ideas on how to limit him, that sort of thing?”
“If we did, we wouldn’t be sitting here thinking about it,” Gabriel pointed out.
“Okay, then. New Moon, you knew him best growing up. Is there anything you can think of that might offer a competitive edge?”
“Somewhere wide open. He works best in close quarters.”
“So it would have to be the courtyard, then, or possibly the edge of his cognitive plane outside the castle. He’s not foolish enough to come out to us on his own like that. He’s calculating, so we’d need something to draw him out or a means to force him out there,” Yvetal mused.
“Yes, but it can’t be obvious, or he’ll see it coming,” New Moon sighed.
“I’m guessing it would have to be something pretty big, then. Hmm … I wonder. What if we were to find the cognitive version of Crysalis and recruit her as an ally? He hates her guts. If we get her to act as bait, it might work.”
“I don’t think we have the time to go looking,” Gabriel noted.
“And if we were to try a facsimile, he’d probably see right through it, since we have no idea what the cognitive world version would look like.” Yvetal frowned. “What if we were to go after the cognitive form of Rarity? Do you think he’d care about her at all?”
“Rarity won’t be born for a long time yet.”
“True, but the Shadow Strike has all of Hammer Strike’s memories intact, which means he should also remember Rarity. Granted, I don’t know if he even cares about Rarity or not. If it’s the same Strike we faced before, then we’d have to take something very close to home to get his attention.”
“Would you want to have to fight her, if we do find her?” Gabriel asked.
“Good point. Facing him and her together probably wouldn’t be such a good idea.” Yvetal frowned as he laid his chin on a hoof. “Well, this sucks. Any other ideas?”
“All we can do is hunt for him,” Gabriel sighed. “Hope we get lucky.”
“I suppose we could always see about asking Igor and his assistant for advice while we’re visiting.” He shrugged. “Worst case scenario, he’ll say we have to figure it out on our own.”
“I suppose then tomorrow, we’ll see if we can get ahold of one of those orbs.”
“For now, that’s probably for the best. The more materials we have, the better when we visit the Velvet Room.” Yvetal rose and tossed his blond mane in the sunlight, then chuckled. “Getting a little long. Gonna have to see about cutting it later.” He approached the two warriors. “Now, then, let’s see about getting you two patched up.”
“I’m fine. Just look after New Moon.” Gabriel got to his feet and headed for the building. “I need to sleep.”
“You faced her alone, didn’t you?” Yvetal asked as he turned his attention back to the mare.
“It was the only way to do it right,” New Moon said.
He pulled out a salve from one of his many jars and started applying it to the scars. “So, was she everything you expected?”
“She was not what I expected, but she was in some ways more and some ways less than I was prepared for.”
“But you grew from the experience?”
“I saw flaws in myself, ones I conquered and ones I had yet to realize. I saw myself exposed enough to know what I needed to overcome.”
“I guess that makes two of us to an extent.” Yvetal chuckled as he laid a few quick bandages over the salve. “You know, I can’t help but wonder if that thing over there might prove to be the key to all of this by the time it’s all over,” he said, motioning to the scythe.
“I don’t think it will ever be that simple.”
“Sure seemed to be when Twilight and the others saved you.”
“That was a different instance,” Luna said.
“And the crystal heart? Just happening to land in the caves where Cadence just so happened to have also been hidden? It seems that a lot of the time in Equestria, the answer to things just sort of falls into your laps.”
“A stallion bought a tin cup in Hooford a week ago. The next day his town was attacked by a bug bear. Should we say the cup caused the attack?” Luna asked.
“Was it a Tuesday?”
Luna looked at him rather bluntly.
“It’s a valid question, Luna. If it was a Tuesday, then a minor act like that could very easily have triggered a series of chain events that led to exactly that happening.”
She glared flatly at him, then rose and walked off, leaving him alone.
Yvetal sighed as he packed up the extra materials and replaced the lid on his jar. “She just doesn’t know you the same way I do, Murphy.”
A single voice rose and fell in a melodic aria as the four Ponies passed through the doorway and entered the familiar blue-curtained atmosphere of the Velvet Room. Igor sat at his desk scrawling away at a piece of paper, using a quill made from one of his feathers. Track looked up briefly from her book, then returned to it again, after realizing the visitors would mean no harm to her master.
“Welcome to my Velvet Room,” Igor greeted them. “It appears that it is time for us to part ways. Whether you are to reign victory over your fight with the World’s shadow or fall to his wrath, this will be the last time we see each other.”
“What was that?” Grif asked. “You completely switched your tone … not for the first time.” He gave a frustrated growl. “At first, I thought it was just me, but seriously, I’ve been in and out of this room several times now, and you switch your position more than freakin’ House Turncoat!”
Igor stared at Grif for a moment. “This is the end. You will have to forgive me for being so straightforward with my statements, but this is the last night in which the shadow will remain locked away. Your last chance at him. Should you fail in dealing with it, the fate of everything will fall to a state of imbalance.”
“Yes, yet previously you implied killing him wasn’t the only option,” Luna spoke up.
“There are multiple ways to deal with any situation. As for your team and yourself, I have yet to see any signs that you have another plan but that.” Igor’s gaze flicked over Pensword and Vital, before returning to Luna.
“What is the truth?” Luna asked. “What are you? What is your game in all this?”
“I am the embodiment of Oaths, of contracts and agreements. All I am here for is to watch how these contracts form and to what ends they are completed. Those who hold a powerful contract are especially interesting to me.”
“Then where is your second face?” Luna asked.
Igor hummed questioningly at Luna as he brought his hands up, intertwined his talons, and leaned against the table, resting his beak on them.
“An oath is too complicated to be represented by a single face.” Luna gave him a cold stare. “Are you the oath keeper or the oath breaker? Where is your second face?”
Igor stared at Luna, before giving a soft chuckle. “Damn you. Keeper knew you would catch on.” He moved his hands, resting one on the table, tapping his talons away as he leaned against the other hand with a wide grin on his face.
“I take it you are Breaker, if you refer to Keeper, as an Oath is one that is unable to abide lies,” Pensword replied, looking about with worry. He paused. “Luna, I have an idea, a risky one, but one that may very well bring a win of life for all. We just have to have Golden Oak confront this inner demon.”
“A lie means nothing to an oath, for what if your oath is to lie?” Breaker said.
“We’re not bringing a civilian into this,” Grif stated flatly.
“Even though he isn’t technically one?” Vital asked. “He does have a point. Golden Oak is Hammer Strike, even if he doesn’t remember it. Caramel told me all about it. He remembers how to fight. It has potential to work.”
“It has the potential to kill him.” Luna turned to them, staring both down as she approached. “Perhaps you ignored the parts where Golden Oak was injured in these fights? He is far less durable than Hammer Strike. You ask us to risk everything we’ve worked for for a fleeting chance of success.”
“Then what do we do? If we were to have him confront and accept his dark part, wouldn’t that remove the dark one’s power? Plus, this interaction could bring back his memories. We have to have all options on the table,” Pensword said.
“Sometimes, Pensword, it’s not enough to accept your dark side.” Grif shook his head. “Sometimes your darkness needs to accept you, too.”
“What I’m curious about is why he looked at us when he was talking about the possibility of another plan,” Vital said with a furrowed brow. “Does that mean he and I could come up with a way to fix things without killing the shadow?”
“All through this trip, you two have come to the conclusion that killing was the only path,” Grif said. “It’s been in your way of talking, your way of taking in the facts. You two are … too inexperienced to have realized that’s not always an option that leads to good things.”
“In short, you’re basically saying we were both manipulated into thinking in a certain way, and accepted it as the only way, because of a lack of experience,” Vital said.
Luna looked to Breaker again. “Each of us here has an oath of sorts to Hammer Strike. It may not be a strictly spoken oath, but the silent oath between friends and companions or even family can be just as binding. We all have an oath towards Hammer Strike’s safety. I think we were being tested on the strength of that oath.”
“And I failed?” Pensword asked with a forlorn look at the ground. “I only now saw this other option but it seems more dangerous than the other.” He sighed. “War horses are not good at this kind of situation. Police Ponies, maybe.”
“You had no experience of your own dark side, nor have you had to understand the reality of its existence.” Luna placed a wing on Pensword.
“And you still run from yours.” Grif looked to Vital. “You let the separation weaken yourself. Neither of you could realize the possible repercussions for killing half of your own soul.”
“So he was looking our way because he’s hoping for us to essentially … continue along that path?”
“I looked to you both, as you were the ones to hold the weakest contract to him,” Breaker chuckled from his seated position.
“And you were hoping we would inadvertently break said contracts?” Vital asked.
“Are you slow to notice that I am the Oath Breaker?”
“Just looking to get my ducks in a row,” Vital said calmly. “So, Tracker, quick question. Do you happen to serve both masters equally?” he asked casually as he looked back to the mare in the blue uniform.
“Unfortunately, yes,” she sighed. “I am unable to tell the guests anything on either of my masters.”
Vital shrugged. “We’re not looking for information on your masters. We’re looking for information on how to get our Hammer Strike back without killing or seriously damaging him. Any ideas?”
“The only advice I can give you is to be aware of the status of both yourselves and him.”
Vital nodded. “Thank you. I’m guessing even that was hard to say.” He hefted a bag full onto a table next to her. “Do you think you could help us make a few supplies? I like to be as prepared as I can be.”
“Certainly.” Track gave a small smile. “What supplies are you looking for in particular?”
“Well, you did mention status. Do I have enough here to create items designed to remove ailments, take care of health and stamina, that sort of thing?”
Track’s smile widened. “I believe you have enough to make a few.”
“IN THE NAME OF THE MOON, WE SHALL PUNISH YOU!” Luna shouted as she decapitated yet another string of guards in their way. Grif was chopping his way through minions as well, limbs landing where they would to dissolve later as they charged through the courtyard. Grif and Luna had quickly decided that the time for stealth was over, and the best way to draw Shadow Strike out was a full frontal assault. With renewed power, Luna easily tore the portcullis and drawbridge out and flung them away. The minion armies were falling before them like chaff.
Any minion that didn’t have armor or wore only a poor covering found themselves attacked by Pensword’s fangs and hooves. After a few monster kills, the commander utilized a mismatched pair of wing blades to become a tornado of shadow and death. A veritable blizzard surrounded Vital Spark, tearing through the shadows’ armor like paper. He fired off a series of ice beams to slick the ground or immobilize opponents, before cutting them to ribbons.
They tore into the castle with minimal effort, only being slightly slowed as the basic minions shifted to the heavier knights. With their current equipment, the four warriors made short work of these as they carved a path ahead. Grif took the lead in the hallways, since Luna couldn’t swing wide with her scythe. The slaughter grew heavier, and then began to wane as they fought into the hall before the throne room, until the tide stopped. Grif was about to say something, when he noted several of the dead minions had dropped healing and mana restoring spheres. His eyes widened.
“Quiet area. Plenty of healing items. Those don’t bode well.”
“Supreme secret boss level difficulty ahead?” Vital asked.
“Gather up the healing items, and everybody get ready.” Grif scanned the area.
“Who’s taking what?” Vital asked hastily. “We should all have at least a few on us to use during the battle outside what I can throw your way.”
“Vital, just take them all and pray to the gods we can live long enough for you to use them.”
It was at that moment that a nearby door burst open. In the remains stood a large figure covered in platemail armor. Each piece was interlocked together and bound by chains with a dark mist emanating from every crack and opening. In its hands was a plain greatsword with little to no markings. As soon as it noticed the group, its stance changed, bringing its sword close to its body.
But before it could take a step, a massive blade impaled it into the floor. The sword itself was a dull grey, stained in a mixture of red, black, and purple fluid. The hilt curved outward with a harsh corner, reflecting light off the soft purple metal. The leather wrapping was stained purple, spiralling down to the pommel, ending in a sharp point of steel.
Soon after the blade, an even larger figure crashed into the ground. Segments of the platemail were fragmented, cracking or worse, revealing a stained blue cloth underneath. Chainmail gleamed underneath the cracks and gaps of the armor with a soft dark mist escaping it. The helmet resembled the head of a dragon, leaving little to the opening for its eyes, and ended in a matted down, blackened plume. Reaching up with its right arm, it grabbed the blade and effortlessly removed it from the shadow beneath it. Its left arm was limp, hanging at an unnatural angle. As soon as it took notice of the group, it leaned back, before letting out a horrid wail as the shadows around quickly dispersed, leaving the area as quickly as they could.
“Well, thats bad, but it could be worse,” Grif said as he looked at their enemy.
Pensword stood ready, wings flared and fangs bared, before looking at Grif, silently praying to Faust that the fight hadn’t been jinxed, due to what the Gryphon had just said. He quickly returned to his pose.
“Worse? How, exactly, could this get worse?” That’s freakin’ Artorias!” Vital cried.
“You never saw Havel the Rock, did you?” Grif asked.
“... Fair point. So who’s on heal and boost duty and who’s on attack?”
“Well let's be pragmatic here,” Luna said. “How likely are either of you to take out that armor?”
“I’ll admit not too likely. Are you suggesting shucking?”
“Here is the problem. Hammer Strike’s delaying, which means he’s planning something,” Grif noted. “If the four of us stay to fight, we’ll win, but then we possibly give him the time he needs.”
Pensword grinned. “I think the door is important. We need to get past and delay Hammer Strike from implementing his plan. We all fight here, we lose the war.” He looked to the four, and his eyes flashed with a dreadful anticipation. “Grif, Vital, Luna, go!” He snapped opened his wings, then barked a challenge. “Hey, Metalhead! Over here!” Sure enough, that got the attention of the creature. Pensword stood on the ground and waited as Artorias charged. At the last second, he launched into the air, the greatsword passing under his hooves by just a hair’s breadth. The force of the swing left a swath of air behind, thrusting the Pegasus backward and nearly causing him to strike a wall. Thanks to his training, the dizzy spell accompanying the blow dissipated quickly. With Artorias distracted, the door to the throne room was now wide open.
Pensword, catch!” Vital shouted as a series of red orbs zoomed towards the Pegasus.
With the skill of a seasoned flyer, Pensword snatched the orbs in his wings and redirected their momentum to fall into his saddlebag. “Now go!” He narrowed his gaze and offered a quick salute. “Fly, you fools!” His grin lasted only a moment, before the creature’s helmet smashed into the small of his back, slamming him into the ceiling.
Gods speed, my friend,” Grif offered, not even turning to look as the remaining three rushed for the throne room.
“I’ll try to bolster you two as best I can,” Vital said, even as he winced at the sudden wind that rushed in behind them. “I’m the weakest of the three of us, so he’ll probably try going after me to make you two stop.” He gulped. “If he gets ahold of me, … keep going after him, no matter what.”
“As long as you’re conscious, we’ll be fine,” Grif assured him, his eyes flickering to his pack for a moment.
“Onward, then. ELYSIUM FIELDS!” Luna shouted, charging ahead.
Pensword’s ear twitched as he heard his friends’ war cries. He banked, only to flare his wings and backpedal up to the ceiling as he narrowly avoided another blow from Artorias’ greatsword. He frowned. “I think this guy is from a game.” He narrowed his eyes as he watched his opponent. The knight started back towards the throne room, its sword dragging across the floor with a raspy hiss as his decaying armor creaked and groaned. Pensword couldn’t allow that. He pulled out the rifle he’d gotten at the start of their mission, aimed, and fired.
Artorias turned his head to the source of the sudden blow that struck his armpit. He roared in rage, shaking the dust from the beams in the ceiling. He lunged forward, jumped, and swung the blade. Pensword dove and twisted, but even so, he could feel the blade shearing a few centimeters of his feathers. The Pegasus settled onto the floor and backed away down the hall. Artorias followed, as Pensword had hoped. The more distance he could put between that monster and his friends, the better.
When Artorias raised his blade, Pensword thrust forward, using his hind legs and his wings to increase his speed as he attacked the monster’s left side. The metal armor shrieked in protest as wing blade struck plate mail. Unfortunately for the Pegasus, the strike hadn’t been a clean one. A sudden jerk on his wing socket pulled him back at the last moment. He looked up to see one of the blades on his weapon had caught on a hole in the creature’s armor. Then he saw the swift approach of a heavy metal boot, followed by the distinct and familiar sensation of pain. The giant had found its mark.
Pensword clattered down the hallway, sparks jumping like startled rabbits as he bounced across the floor, before finally coming to a crashing stop. He rose unsteadily to his hooves as he struggled against the constant ringing in his ears. It was pure instinct that saved him in the end. He thrust into the air, despite how dangerous it was to fly when still recovering from a blow. Less than a second later, he heard the crash of the giant’s overhead swing connecting to the ground.
Pensword continued to flap, and shook his head briefly to get his senses back in order, before looking over his opponent one more time. Clearly, a head-on strike wouldn’t work so well in this case. There was too much risk in getting caught, and he wasn’t about to dance with death again that soon. He looked to his wing blade and noticed a nick in the metalwork. Worse yet, a crack or two had formed on the plating, no doubt due to the force of Artorias’ kick. “That’s not good,” he breathed. His eyes narrowed. Then he took a deep breath and pulled out his flintlock.
“Hey!” he shouted. Sure enough, he drew the knight’s attention. This shadow clearly had no intelligence whatsoever. It acted on a primal basis. “Eat this.” Pensword pulled the trigger. The ball from the pistol flew towards its target, nicked the lower edge of the left eye on Artorias’ helmet, and ricocheted up, into the eye hole to spin into the helmet.
An unearthly cry somewhere between a roar and a gurgling wail surged from the helmet as the creature’s broken left arm twitched. However, the arm was still useless, and it refused to drop its sword. The shadow’s grip tightened, even as dust poured out from the helmet’s holes.
Pensword yelped as the giant used his blade and knocked a loose piece of masonry at him.
“Yikes!” Even though Pensword tried to get out, the debris still managed to connect in his rear, and he felt his left hoof go numb from the crushing impact. “Hurry up, guys,” he whispered as he adjusted his position and dove at this giants back. Another wail rose as metal struck metal, and the ghastly song drifted back to the throne room.
Grif, Vital, and Luna burst through a set of doors into a dark hallway. The torches burned with an orange flame, bathing the passage in a soft glow, illuminating the deformed stone. The bricks were scorched and partially melted, while a faint layer of ash covered the floor with small piles laying at the sides of the hall, leaving Grif with a faint sense of deja vu.
“Are … we too late?” Vital asked. His eyes roved warily over the room.
“We … were last time,” Grif said, his eyes widening as recognition dawned on him.
“Last time?”
“During the Third Gryphon War, Hammer Strike was captured. This is where he was taken.”
“So, does this make it the Dark Strike’s prison, … or the place our Hammer Strike’s psyche was being held?”
“I’m not sure it’s that simple.” Luna looked around. “It’s such a deep memory, such a painful scar.”
“Something that could potentially be exploited?”
“This memory likely pains Shadow Strike as well,” Luna said. “Let’s see inside.”
Vital forced himself to look up at the clinking chains as they shook mournfully in the air. The remnants of some sort of dolley wilted up out of the slag that may have once been its shelving units. The black scorch marks that covered the walls left them brittle as Vital touched a segment briefly, only for it to break apart from the pressure. “He was locked up here?”
“He was locked up, beaten, tortured, both mentally and physically,” Grif said, looking around.
“The scars?”
Grif understood the implication of the question only too well. “When we found him, they’d pushed him to a state where he’d basically baptized the building in fire.”
“You know, in a way, it looks almost like a womb, doesn’t it?” Vital said as he scanned over the concave walls.
“An interesting comparison,” Luna commented.
Grif took to the trail of ash and blood, wondering where it would lead.
It didn’t take long for the group to push open a set of double doors leading outside of the building into the courtyard. Ash covered the ground in piles and rows. The stone was warped and blackened, and in the center of the yard, Hammer Strike sat with his back to them. Numerous fresh cuts and gashes had opened across his body, coating him in his own blood. Orbs of blue fire surrounded him, acting almost like a protective barrier.
“Is that our Hammer Strike or the other?” Vital asked softly.
Grif tried to move to get a view of this Hammer Strike’s face.
As he circled around him, he noticed the Earth Pony was staring at bloodied hooves coated in ash, with a horrified expression on his face as he took several quick, jerky breaths. As Grif studied him, his ear suddenly twitched and his gaze snapped to Grif. His jaw shook, before he finally spoke out, “G-Gabriel?”
“Golden Oak?” Grif asked.
“W-what’s going on, Gabriel?” He glanced back at his hooves. “I ... I was talking with Caramel. My head has been killing me all day, and I could hardly focus. And … and then it all went dark. I was here, my body and my mind hurt. And the blood. Divine above, the blood and fire. The ash ... it’s everywhere.”
“You look like you’ve been hurt,” Vital noted as he approached timidly. “I’m … not sure if you would remember me, but I’m a healer of sorts, among other things. If you’d like, I can take a look at those wounds, try to treat them.”
“No!” He cried out. “Don’t get too close.” He took a shuddering breath. “I can’t … I can’t control the fire. Anything that gets close to me….” He looked at the ash around him once more.
Vital’s gaze narrowed as he looked cautiously around the courtyard. “What, exactly, got close to you?”
“We can’t help you, if you don’t calm down,” Grif added.
“How? How am I supposed to calm down? Everything that comes close was burned to ash! The gryphons, those knights. And to top it all off, everything hurts: my head, my body, and these images that keep coming to me. I feel like I’m constantly surrounded. It’s like I’m being watched by something.” A familiar gleam appeared in his eyes. “So, how am I supposed to do that, Grif?” he shouted.
The courtyard was silent as the trio stared at the Pony, and he stared in return. “He remembers you,” Vital said as he turned to the Gryphon.
“Yes, but the question is, which one remembers me?” Grif replied.
“Which one?” Golden Oak questioned, before bringing his hooves to his head. He groaned. “Just ... what’s happening to me?”
Luna approached him and placed a hoof gingerly on his back. “Golden Oak, what do you know of Lord Hammer Strike?”
He was startled by the interaction, noting that the fire seemed to ignore her. “I … I never studied into his legend.”
“Then this may be hard to believe,” Luna said.
“Am … am I related to him or something?” Golden Oak questioned, before he suddenly brought his hooves to his head and cried out in pain. The area around them shifted for a moment as his cries grew louder. “I-I just … I just want to know!” he yelled, and his voice echoed plaintively on the wind, before a sudden gust obscured their vision with ash. When the storm cleared, the trio suddenly found themselves in a large dank chamber, with no sign of Golden Oak in sight.
The room was illuminated by blue fire, the area coated in blood. Shackles hung above. From the shadows of the room, the figure of a rust-red gryphon stepped out with a twisted smile. “Ah, there you are. Can’t exactly have you three escaping, before your sessions, now can we?” He bowed. “I am Senior Torturer Grimbeak, your host for the remainder of your stay.”
“Grimbeak.” Grif’s voice oozed venom.
“I’m guessing we have history with this Gryphon that I don’t know about yet?” Vital asked as his horn began to glow. “Then again, if you hate him, then I know I’m not gonna like him.”
“I never met him. Hammer Strike turned him into a pile of ash long before I got the chance,” Grif growled. “He’s the Gryphon who tortured him.”
“Well, then. In that case, I’m guessing there’s no mercy allowed for this one. Am I right?”
“If you do, then may they save a special cell in Tartarus for you,” Luna said.
“Just making sure. I don’t want to risk breaking any oaths, after all.” His face set in a grim line. “We’d best be careful, though. This is a skilled torturer, not the shadow of me we saw before. I assume that means he has a lot of tricks up his sleeve.”
“He’s still stalling,” Grif said. “We can’t slow down for this.”
The restraints suddenly clamped around Grimbeak’s limbs and neck, and slammed him against the wall, pulling his legs tight. “Then let’s finish this quickly,” Vital said as he continued to direct his magic. “Luna, Grif, if you would?”
Grif and Luna charged, only to have to backtrack to avoid several darts that flew at them from seemingly nowhere.
“Of course he’s got the room trapped,” Grif grumbled, avoiding more darts.
“No torturer wouldn’t have some form of failsafe to survive,” Vital noted. “People tend to get a bit kill happy when they’re freed and he or she is left to take the blame for their suffering,” Vital pointed out.
“You seem able to handle this. How long will those restraints hold?” Luna asked.
Vital continued to stare resolutely at Grimbeak. “As long as you need them to.”
Luna looked to Grif, and the two nodded. “We’ll go on ahead,” Grif said.
Vital threw his saddlebags at them. “Take these. Leave a few blue and red orbs behind, just in case, but make sure you two have enough for the battle ahead. If you baby me, so help me, I’ll never let you hear the end of it.”
Grif swiped a couple of orbs and dashed for the exit with Luna trailing after him.
“Damn it, Grif!” Vital’s voice roared after the pair.
The battle between Artorias and Pensword continued. Of the original ten rounds Pensword had been able to accumulate, seven remained. His face wrinkled in disgust as he hid in the shadows of the hall’s arches. In his haste to distract the giant, he had tried to bite into one of the areas where the armor had been damaged. Needless to say, that proved rather ineffective and incredibly unpleasant to his taste buds.
He narrowed his eyes and flattened his ears as he looked down. This had become a much more intense fight. Artorias even got a good hit in, before this hide and seek game had begun, leaving the Pony little choice but to use one of the three red orbs he had to reset a broken leg. Thankfully whatever those orbs were, they gave him the benefit of not needing a split to work.
He waited for the right moment as the creature lumbered beneath. Then Pensword smirked. He plunged down with all the speed he could muster, slamming his hooves onto the knight’s helmet with a loud crunch and a series of pops. A shriek of rage emanated from the creature as Pensword dragged his wing blade across the side, then leaped down to the shadow’s sword to attempt to yank it away.
It took some serious working, but Pensword finally managed to wrench it out of the limp arm. Unfortunately, Artorias was ready for it. The knight’s free hand swung around and landed a heavy punch on the Pagasus’ gut, sending Pensword tumbling off the giant’s body and rolling across the floor. Adrenaline surged through his body, giving him the strength to use the momentum of the rolling to surge into the air again. He was going to feel that one in the morning, that was for sure. He coughed briefly and swallowed back the urge to vomit. There was a battle to be won, after all.
The giant was so enraged, it seemed to have forgotten its opponent could fly. It slammed into a wall, giving Pensword the opportunity he needed to hit it from the side and knock it to the ground. The Peasus’ head rang, and his body felt numb, but he knew he had to keep up the fight. Taking advantage of the monster’s dazed state, he struck with his wing blades again. Once more metal shrieked. Once more, he felt the catch, only this time, the acrid smell of fresh blood also flooded his nostrils, and he knew instinctively that it was his own.
Artorias began to stir, and Pensword yanked desperately to no avail. Finally, he reached over and tore at the bindings with his teeth. The cords snapped just in time, and Pensword withdrew the bloody mass of feathers and tissue. Then he reached in with both hooves and teeth to yank the blades out from the gap where they’d caught and rammed it into one of the slots on the giant’s right arm. A new cry of pain and outrage caused the very rafters to shake as dust and mortar descended in dusty cascades. Pensword rolled out of the way just in time to avoid the deadly thrashing as the creature tried to swing its legs and arm at him.
Pensword coughed again, and this time he tasted blood. He took his second red orb and activated the magic within it. Feeling returned to his body. The blood seeping down his wings seemed almost to reverse its course as the wounds healed and closed. He panted to catch his breath, even as the armor-clad giant scrabbled for purchase to rise once more. Even as Artorias struggled, Pensword could see him reaching for his sword. The Pegasus narrowed his gaze and lunged forward to kick the weapon out of the knight’s range. Artorias responded by rolling over and sweeping his titanic, albeit severely crippled arms at the Pony.
Pensword grunted as he struggled for breath. The titanic weight of Artorias’ armor weighed heavily on him as he strained to resist the creature’s onslaught. “Oh, IT IS ON!” he growled.
Grif and Luna stepped into a long hallway. Marble pillars stretched into an endless darkness above them, and a long blue rug stretched down to a doorway at the far end of the room. Light filtered in from the stained glass windows lining the hallways, revealing a stream of stories with each passing glance. A figure stood at the end of the hallway. A black long coat covering most of his body with plates of armor around several sections of the coat and hands. Its head was covered by a helmet formed of large interlocking curved plates that covered the entire face down to the neck, save for two small eye slits. As soon as they noticed him, he reached behind his shoulders, unsheathing two blades. In his left hand, he held a blade made of a greenish-blue crystalline metal. It was double-edged, primarily thin, save for a wide bulbous section at the top. The cross hilt was shaped like a cross and set with a large diamond at the center. In his right hand he held a black single-edged sword with a handle that seemed to resemble the type one might see in a steampunk style sword, with the blade stretching down to curve in a semicircle over the handle as a substitute for a crossguard.
“Count to ten and run,” Grif told Luna, placing most of the orbs he’d grabbed into her bag.
“Grif, why–?” Luna began, but stopped as he shook his head.
“Out of all of us, you’ve got the best chance against Hammer Strike. You’ve fought him to a standstill before, and that thing is only half of him. You go ahead and leave this one to me.” Grif turned to the swordsman and unsheathed his own swords, flourishing them fluidly, before turning a low double vertical sweep into a deep bow towards the shadow.
The shadow flipped the sword in its right hand into a reverse grip and held its hand across its chest as it gave a short bow. The two figures charged in a blur of motion, all four blades locking between them in a shower of sparks. The warriors disengaged and shifted position, before charging and locking again. This time, when they disengaged, Grif pressed forward and almost managed to land a strike, only to be parried by one of his opponent’s blades.
Luna nearly lost count as she watched the two figures attacking each other in rapid flurries. Still, somehow, she managed to reach ten, before booking for the exit, even as Grif ducked what would have been a decapitation.
“You know,” Grif smiled as the two clashed, “it’s almost too bad I have to kill you. It’s been a while since I’ve had an opponent I can go all out on.” Grif pressed again with these words, and blades filled the air. With no one in the room to look out for, Grif was ready to give it his all.
The rug continued to stretch on as Luna burst through the doors to enter a room made almost entirely out of gold and crystal. Precious gems dotted chandeliers that dispersed a rainbow of colors that merged and blended into the blackened shadows that seemed almost to hover along the corners of her vision. Instead of the twin thrones she recalled from Canterlot, one massive, twisted monstrosity of black scale, hole-encrusted horns, and sprawling tendrils that stretched out beneath the throne’s occupant to form a writhing blanket of living darkness stood imposing itself over everything else. A sickly purple glow emanated from the crystals embedded into the throne’s top, tinged by a blackness deeper than any Luna had seen before, … at least in most nightmares.
As the princess drew closer, the atmosphere of the room seemed to change. The gold lost its luster, turning to pillars of bone as the reek of ash assaulted her nostrils. A web of a dark, viscous substance formed a heavy veil that dropped before the throne. Baleful blue flames flickered and danced menacingly around the dais as the occasional spurt of red in their cores turned them the same purple as the throne’s crystals, before they settled into blue again, ever shifting in the same cycle.
Shadow Strike looked on through the veil with a disapproving frown. His blue coat and gold trim held easily to his body as he looked down at the uninvited guest that now stood in a gross parody of a traditional audience. His golden eyes flashed in the bobbing light of his guardian flames as he cracked his neck and looked down with a grim, albeit somewhat bored expression.
“First there’s shadows going berserk, then you four show up, and now I’ve got that moron Golden Oak running around being protected by some mare in elevator attendant attire. You just love making things difficult, don’t you?”
“Seems to me the only one making things difficult is you.” Luna brandished her scythe.
“If it weren’t for you all showing up, things would have been so much easier,” he sighed as he reached behind his back, grabbing Ulcrusher as it formed. “Instead, every part of the plan fell into complete chaos.”
“And if it weren’t for your needless hostility, your other half would have recovered his memories by now,” Luna returned. “You are the root of all your pain, not us.”
“I refuse to let my other half take charge again! Do you know how many needless actions he takes, all to avoid such minor incidents? The things I could accomplish would be greater, if he wasn’t worrying so much about every little problem that could arise from any little action! Every moment of my life is filled with a constant sense of worrying about everything!”
“By creating this needless separation, you only weaken yourself.” Luna stomped her hoof a few times. “He has accepted your existence. Why must you create needless conflict?”
“Because I’m so damned tired of it all. Do you know what the most complicated thing in my life was before we came here? The most I had to worry about was if I sanded down the wood enough to keep myself from getting a splinter, to ensure I kept my limbs far enough away from my power saw, none of this nonsense! I don’t want to keep up this senseless worrying about everything. I have power. Why should I worry about things that wouldn’t harm me?”
“Because you don’t have the power to rule without those you care about,” Luna returned. “Some Ponies draw circles and care for only what lies within its boundaries: their family, their house. Others draw larger circles and enclose within it their friends and their friends’ families. But you are Hammer Strike. You don’t settle for small or medium. You do everything large. You once told me anyone in power shouldn’t be comfortable. So why this? Why now?”
“Have you ever thought that, for once, I may have wanted some damn peace in my life? Almost every month, it’s off to some random location, some deadly fight, some trip in time. It never fails!”
“There are better ways to seek a break than this, this tantrum,” Luna retorted.
“And yet every time I try, I’m pulled right back into it. No matter what I do, it’s always the same outcome. And these damned memories that follow it, every waking moment, because of the spells cast on me. I remember almost every moment I’ve been here. All the pain, all the fear. So I will fight at every opportunity, every chance I get, to earn that peace I want so badly.”
“And yet here you stand, complaining and whining, like a foal who’s been caught pulling his brother’s mane. Tell me, do you think that's a true approximation of Ulkrusher in your hand?”
“Down to every detail I could take in.”
“All it is is a shadow, because that's all you can create. Without your other half, all you are is a pale imitation of the real thing.”
Shadow Strike charged, and Luna’s scythe met the hammer. Much as Luna had expected, the hammer hit hard, but not nearly as hard as the hammer it stole its image from. She pushed forward with flurry after flurry, forcing the shadow to give more ground as the two weapons clashed. “You could at least make this interesting,” Luna said as she caught a mistake and hooked the head of his hammer, pulling it from his hooves and sending it flying to land on the ground several feet away.
With a growl, Hammer Strike reached out and created a greatsword from thin air, then charged again. The weapon’s longer reach and combat effective area actually made a difference as the two continued their dance of death. He managed to land several shallow blows on Luna; however, he was still forced to give ground as the scythe was able to block and thrust at the same time, allowing Luna the ability to attack with her defence. Several minutes later, the greatsword shattered against the far wall. “Try again,” Luna growled.
This time, he caught Luna off guard. The weapon that formed in his hooves was something she’d never seen Hammer Strike use before. She wasn’t even sure he’d covered it. The shadow of the Pony that had raised her now brandished a bident, a large fork-like weapon with two tines, rather than three. He held aggressively, and when the two engaged, the battle went very differently. The weapon’s twin tips and inward facing barbs were perfectly set for locking her weapon. On three occasions, Luna nearly lost her scythe as the shadow attacked in several flurries, gouging her coat with deep bloody tracks as he pushed forward again and again.
Pensword was in the air again, while his opponent stood glaring up at him. A black viscous substance thicker than blood, but not so thick as tar dripped from where he had jammed his broken wing blade into its arm. The giant sword lay useless on the ground. The creature couldn’t lift it anymore.
The only problem now was the fact that, since the giant had been unburdened of the hefty weapon, it was free to swing its arms, making the very wing blades that had crippled it a deadly weapon in its favor as it struck with broad sweeps. The cut above the Pegasus’ hoof showed only too well just how quickly Artorias had been able to adapt. Now the two watched one another, locked in a perpetual stalemate. Pensword’s body had taken more of a beating as he worked to whittle the giant down. His feathers were ruffled, and he could feel the bruises starting to form beneath his fur. He continued to circle in the air, just outside of the giant’s reach.
Finally, the commander struck, making a spirited dash for the monster’s back as he tried to kick it off balance agian. Artorias was having none of it, and he backhanded Pensword into the air again. The monster had adapted, and it was time to try a new tactic. Pensword checked his bullet supply once more, and cursed his luck as he found the cache completely empty. What would it take to finally kill this thing? He sighed, took a shuddering breath, and then withdrew the hatchet he’d won from his shadow. His muscles tensed as he let out a low growl, then barked, “This ends now!”
He transferred the hatchet to one of his wings and threw it with a loud cry. The metal seemed almost to scream as it sliced through the air, filled with the Pony’s pent up anger and frustration. The weapon embedded itself into the creature’s neck with a loud crunch, and a fresh gout of the black substance burbled out from its helmet like a bloody froth. Artorias did his best to reach the weapon, but with both arms crippled, there was not chance of reaching the tomahawk in time, even if he were to try using the wall. Ultimately, the shadow let out one last gurgling cry as a fountain of black ichor exploded out from its helm to shower in puddles around it. Then Artorias fell to his knees and collapsed, falling back to the stone floor with a mighty crash. Finally, the body and all its residue burst apart into a dark smoke, leaving behind three red orbs and two blue ones.
Pensword dove greedily, snatching one of the red orbs to restore his health. Scrapes and cuts knit together, and a tingling surrounded the surfaces where he’d taken a heavier beating, and he felt the aching begin to ease. When the magic had done its work, he quickly pocketed the other orbs and rushed towards the door his friends had left through earlier. It was time to rejoin them once more, and put an end to this nightmare once and for all.
“You’re very good,” Grif commented to the shadow across from him as he stared at it, breathing heavily. Their fight was currently a perfect stalemate. The shadow was able to match his movements slash for slash at the same rate of speed. He seemed to know every trick Grif knew, and how to counter it. The room was full of heavy gouges in the floor and walls, yet despite that, both sets of swords appeared wholy untouched by their repeated use.
Grif’s opponent stared at him silently, as if waiting for him to attack again. His posture was carefully controlled, his poise perfect. His blades lay in a easy grip, slanting towards the floor in front of him.
’And there’s the rub.’ Grif sighed, eyeing the duelist’s two blades. ’Even if he was three times as skilled as me, I’d eventually be able to out maneuver him wielding only one sword. But with two blades, I either need to lock blades to stop him or he needs to lock mine to stop me.’ Even as Grif continued to ponder his situation, his opponent seemed to have enough waiting. He suddenly charged Grif with several rapid strikes, which left the Gryphon having to answer, thus throwing off his train of thought.
The room echoed with the ring of blade on blade as dragon bone met the unnamed metals of the other blades. Grif found it took more and more concentration to ignore the stench from where sparks had landed on his own feathers. His talons were nearly numb from the repeated impact of their blows. At some point, his katana had loosened enough to slide under his right wing, and the sheath poked into his side.
“Winds, if you can hear me in here, I could use some help,” Grif said as he continued to dance with his opponent. It took almost a minute for Grif to realize music had started to filter into the room. It was strange, orchestral in nature, with a deep adventuring feel to it. For a minute, Grif could almost smell the tang of salty air. When the two separated again, he saw something lying on the ground, a black scrap of cloth. Perhaps his opponent had gotten a lucky hit? No, he wasn’t wearing anything that black. It might be he’d managed to cut it, but his opponent’s coat seemed undamaged. Without taking his eyes from the shadow, Grif retrieved the scrap with the edge of the imitation of Vigilance. It was then that he realized it seemed to be a bandanna.
And then everything clicked.
It was stupid, moronic even, a technique no self-respecting swordsman would ever think of. It held no reason why it should work, and yet, with a wily grin, Grif lifted the bandanna and fastened it over his crest. He lifted each blade accordingly, preparing for another lock. Then, in a swift motion, he kicked the katana sheath with his right paw, and the blade slid free with a ring. It sailed upwards for a moment, flashing repeatedly, before it began to drop. Grif snapped with his beak, feeling the katana hilt settle awkwardly between his teeth. He now stood before his opponent, grinning through the katana’s hilt and holding a sword in each claw with all three blades facing to the left. The two stared each other down silently, waiting for a signal of some kind. Outside, a breeze suddenly whistled through a crack in the wall, and as though that had been some prearranged signal, both figures charged. Grif stopped the horizontal slashes with a vertical block to either side. The two swords pointing to the sky seemed to form an aisle of their own, one Grif moved through smoothly. In a single rapid motion, he turned his head violently to the right and his opponent’s head hit the ground.
Grif stepped back as his former adversary’s body followed its head’s example. The katana dropped to the ground at his paws as Grif stared, dumbfounded at what had just happened. He laughed, letting out booming chuckles, ignoring the dissolving body before him, until he finally had to stop for air. When he saw what waited for him, his grin widened.
It was a long black coat with a wide collar. White lined the edges of the coat down the two sides of the front and across the shoulders, forming the illusion of straps. A small band circled around the right arm, sewn in a similar fashion. Small metal plates were attached to the mid forearm on each side. Beside it was a matching weapon harness with a large three-sided metal buckle to be worn over the front of the coat. Upon touching the fabric, Grif immediately identified it as leather, specifically dragon leather, the kind of material that hadn’t been used in over thirteen hundred years. Grif watched as the form shifted and altered to fit a quadrupedal creature like himself, with wing slits in the back and a small hole for his tail. Grif practically purred as he tried it on, admiring the feel. He looked towards the direction Luna had exited and shrugged. He supposed it couldn’t hurt to have it equipped for now. Grif slid on the harness and adjusted it carefully. When he went to sheath Vigilance and Vengeance, he found two black sheaths waiting patiently for the blades.
“Oh, I’m going to miss this, when we have to leave,” he sighed as he sheathed the blades and exited the room. He wasn’t sure how, but he could swear he felt … quieter.
“Damn it, why did I have to be the one to teach you combat?” Hammer Strike’s shadow muttered.
“Because Celestia never had the edge for it,” Luna chuckled. “I’d hoped by now you’d see this is pointless.”
“Don’t get cocky. Just because you understand how I fight with these weapons doesn’t mean much for the others.”
“Oh, really?” Grif’s voice suddenly cut in as he walked around Luna, looking tired, but surprisingly uninjured. “Because my sweet ass coat begs to differ.”
“Delightful,” the shadow rolled his eyes.
“Wow. Even your sarcasm is only a shadow of Hammer Strike,” Grif said.
“Not a priority.”
“You don’t have a lot of those, do you?” Grif asked. “Too busy trying to be Batman?”
“Oh, the real Hammer Strike so does it better,” Pensword said as he landed. His armor had changed, taking on a more angular appearance, sans one wing blade. The torturer’s crest had been fastened proudly to his helmet. “I must say, Vital did a great job holding off that Gryphon. It felt nice killing another from that time period.”
“A simple matter of restraint, followed by near strangulation when he tried to poison me. Who knew he still had a sample of the Flames of Tartarus?” Vital said as he clopped slowly into the courtyard. Then he frowned. “Is it wrong for me to have felt pleasure when Pensword smashed the bottle in his face?”
“Believe me, he deserved worse,” Grif answered. “Vital, can you see to Luna? She looks like she could use some help.”
“Sure, Grif. By the way, you owe me when we get back home again.” A blue and a red orb were shoved at the Gryphon’s chest. “Sometimes, you’re way too reckless.”
Pensword moved and spun and they heard a loud clang. A war ax had been deflected and dug into the stone floor. “Keep eyes on target!’ he snapped as he stepped back out of range, at least until Hammer Strike pulled out a Magnum .44 and pointed it at Vital. “Hand Cannon!” Pensord yelled.
Vital didn’t even turn around as a wall of ice as thick as a Pony was long materialized behind him, catching the bullets as he lowered himself to tend to Luna. The shadows rose up to meet it in tandem, reinforcing the interior as the Unicorn spoke almost negligently. “Grif, if you would, please?” Dark bubbles surrounded the blue of his usual magic around his horn. “I’d rather not waste my potential on a broken shade.”
Grif stepped towards Hammer Strike, standing directly between him and Vital. Then, mixing wind pressure with movement, he began parrying bullets as he stepped forward. “Not good enough.”
Hammer Strike growled as he fired more shots, and Grif continued deflecting shots with precise timing. Unfortunately, he had little control of what the bullets did after being deflected, and so, one managed to bury itself in the top of the ice wall, sending sharp ice splinters down on the group. He heard several pained groans, but couldn’t look back to see what had happened. Even a moment’s miscalculation would have Grif’s guts spread across the floor behind him. So, he moved forward, each moment another step. Every second, several more pings of deflected bullets sounded in the air. With every instant, more anger showed on the shadow’s face as the Gryphon approached.
“It’s funny. Hilarious, really. You see, on my best day, I couldn’t have gotten this close to Hammer Strike with a gun on his worst day. Oh, I can give him a good run in a sparring match, but if he was meaning to kill me, he’d probably have it done without much effort. And then there’s you, standing there, growling as you try, and not even come close to hitting me. Do you know why that is?”
Pensword prowled around the edge of the battle, looking for his opening, but with that gun, he couldn’t find a way to get in fast enough. The ice splinters that had shaved off Vital Spark’s wall had left behind a cold mist as they melted. As it stood, Pensword was no better than a caged animal, waiting for his chance to escape and strike.
“Feeling better, Luna?” Vital asked as he finished applying his third pair of orbs to the princess.
“Yes,” Luna said as she began to work her muscles. “It appears Grif is doing a good job running interference.”
“Yeah,” Vital chuckled. “He always was good at giving a speech.”
“It’s because I am Grif Grafson Bladefeather. I am a beast and a murderer. I have waded in the blood of my kind up to my beak and come out clean.” Grif casually deflected another bullet. “I am Grif Grafson Bladefeather. I am a father and a husband, and a friend. I am the death card. I bring the end, and I bring change. You? You’re not even half of a Hammer Strike. You’re just a child throwing a tantrum.”
Hammer strike’s shadow let out an inhuman scream of rage as the room around them began to break apart. Stone gave way to a black void all around them with no horizon, no entrance, no exit. They found their paws and hooves stood on something, but they couldn’t see what. Suddenly, a violent pressure struck the four of them simultaneously. Vital collapsed, then Pensword. Grif was barely able to stand on shaky limbs, and even Luna’s knees buckled from the pressure of the presence that had emerged.
“This … I feel like an astronaut,” Pensword wheezed with a smirk, but the eyes darted nervously around the void.
“Vital, you’ve got to remember to see if Clover can recreate this,” Grif joined in. “This would be great for training.”
“But dial it down a little first?” Pensword asked as he struggled to push himself back up. Cracks were forming in the ice barrier Vital had created as the pressure continued its work.
“S-sure thing,” Vital grunted as he struggled to push up against the force. He chuckled. “You know, this reminds me of Kaguya’s gravity realm.”
“Who?” Pensword inquired.
“Naturo reference, Pensword.”
“They won’t stop their damned wailing!” The shadow yelled out. “I refuse to let you win. I refuse to let you stop me!”
“Thats my line,” Grif sneered, even as he struggled to stand up straight.
“I think you mean my line,” Luna chuckled.
“I think we happy few share that line,” Pensword growled as he panted heavily. His legs finally managed to lock into a standing position, even as his body trembled from the overwhelming pressure.
“Is that the Saint Crispin’s Day speech, Pensword?” Vital chuckled as he finally managed to get to his hooves. “Now you’ve got me all inspired.” Then he smirked at the false Hammer Strike. “Say, Shadow, would you like some cheese with that whine?”
Vital spark’s answer was a left hoof to the face hard enough to make the world go black.
Pensword gritted his teeth, trying to fight against the pressure, yet Shadow Strike was moving as if he were strolling through the Canterlot Gardens on a Sunday. He was too fast to land a blow in this environment. Every muscle strained as Pensword struggled to move, to lash out, to fight.
“Wait your turn, Pensword. I’ll deal with you shortly.” The shadow growled as he moved to the prone Vital. After a moment, he chuckled. “That’ll do. I’ll be sure he gets a nice slow death.” He turned to face the others. “You lot, however, will be quicker. I don’t have time to waste. They’ll leave soon, and I won’t let this opportunity go to waste.”
“They? So you work for somepony else? I thought thou wert top dog,” Pensword growled back.
“Of course I work alone! But I won’t snap at the beings in the void, especially when they chose a perfect point to observe.”
“Observe what a waste you truly are,” Grif coughed, but he was slowly regaining his strength. Bleeding chaos aspect around him seemed to lesson the strain. It was still difficult, but not more than the strain of the presence.
The shadow growled as he moved towards Pensword, a warhammer forming on his back. Before Pensword could try to dodge, the shadow slammed the hammer into his side, knocking him across the area into Grif. The combined force of their momentum bowled them over as the pressure continued its work.
Grif’s body screamed in pain. Pensword’s angular armor had many sharper edges that had, by some miracle, left the coat undamaged, but the flesh under it was another matter. Already, Grif could feel the warm wetness of blood trickling down his side.
Pensword had used his own momentum to roll over Grif to avoid adding his increased weight to the pressure their environment exerted. He looked to Grif, then strained once again as he struggled to stand. “You want power? What about the wisdom?” He coughed, even as he glared defiantly at the false Hammer Strike. He had no delusions of winning here. The only one who had a chance was Grif, and he wasn’t ready yet. He had to give him the time to recover. “I have seen mighty nations fall to the weak. Two regiments from Earth were destroyed by the might of Zulu warriors. A nation of mere farmers defeated the Wa–.” A loud clang cut him off as Shadow Strike’s warhammer slammed against his head. He was dimly aware of the heavy thumping as the weapon bounced along the ground beside him, carrying vibrations back to his twitching ears as he, too, faded into unconsciousness.
Shadow Strike huffed in annoyance as he looked disdainfully at Pensword’s prone frame. “Divine above. He just didn’t want to stop!”
“It’s a trait you two have in common,” Luna said, her horn glowing as moonlight blazed around her, etching something in the unseen floor. She seemed to be undergoing less strain the longer the magic went into effect, and she grinned triumphantly, if a little tiredly at the Pony as she hefted her weapon.
Shadow Strike sighed to himself. “All right, then. If you can’t wait your turn.…” He turned his attention away from Grif.
“You think combat is some sort of game?” Luna spat.
“I find it to be one of the worst things I do.” He frowned. “I can’t deny that I take pride in my work, but you four already pushed this fight beyond what I wanted it to last.”
“Happy to disappoint you,” Luna growled.
“I suppose you would be,” he replied as he placed a hoof on the side of his head with a faint twitch.
“We’re not done yet,” Grif groaned as he reached into his bag, searching for something.
The shadow’s expression turned to a grimace as the presence began to lessen from the group. “Damn it, I wasted too much time.
“Like every evil idiot ever, you did something Hammer Strike would never do.” Grif coughed up some blood, but the smile never left his lips as he retrieved a small velvet sack. “You were monologuing.” As the presence abated, Grif lifted the hand holding the sack above his head. “Let me show you true power.” He upturned the sack over his other hand and a single small gray feather fell out and lowered in the air. When it reached his other hand, he crushed it in one swift motion. There was a sudden blue flash, and instantly both Grif and Luna’s wounds sealed themselves and healed. Not even scars where left behind. Grif felt the shackles fall away as the presence vanished, and in its place, energy filled him, completely erasing any fatigue he had left. By the way she perked up, Grif could tell Luna was undergoing the same effect.
“Now I’m ready to play properly.” Grif smirked as he cracked his neck muscles and began approaching the shadow. “So let's have a game.” He looked at the shadow’s silent and angry face. “What? What happened to the bluster, to the superiority? When did you get switched with an angsty teenager?” he mocked. “Come on. What’s it going to be, angry silence or rude comment?“
“Just get on with it already.”
“You know why you lost?” Grif asked.
“I’ve already heard you point it out several times now, Grif. I may not be my whole self, but I already heard it plenty from you both.”
“But you aren't getting it,” Grif pressed. In an instant, his body shifted. His fur somehow became a sickly black, like tar or ink. The green on his crest and breast became slick and oily. His slitted red eyes stared at Hammer Strike as he growled. “You think I don’t know where I could have done better? You think it’s easy to accept how much I hate myself when I fail? ‘Cause thats all you are, the self loathing, the internal need to be better. Do you see this beast? Do you know how much blood it wants to spill?”
“I can assume,” Shadow Strike said coldly, urbanely.
“I found peace.” Grif’s form reverted as he spoke. “I found the true strength there is in unity. All this division you’ve made will do is weaken both sides of you.”
“I’ve known this, Grif. I had plans to deal with these issues,” the shadow sighed.
“And yet you did all this.” Grif swiped his hand around. “And even if you’d actually managed to take control of the body, do you think you’d really win? You think it’s that simple?”
“You seem to forget some items I have in my possession in the waking world.”
“And you forget some of the people we’ve met in the waking world,” Grif responded.
“With all I know of this world,” he gave a soft chuckle, “I don’t need to stay around long. Just long enough to do what I need to finish, and then I wouldn’t mind living the rest of my days back home, content with my shop.”
“Knowing you’d killed your friends?” Grif asked. “I know enough to know that if you go there, there are only two ways it ends, and you won’t live through either of them.”
“I don’t want any of you dead in particular. It’s more so that I want you all to leave me be. Once weakened, I could easily eject you from here, and with the power I’d have available, it’s just a simple bind, until I’m done.”
“And then the earth either drains you dry or the void finds you,” Grif retorted. “And you’d have to kill me. We both know I’d find you.”
“By the time you could figure out the knowledge, I’d be dead, anyways.”
“You know, you really underestimate me. I know the shortcut.” Grif grinned at him. “I know how we got here.”
“I’ve known this for some time. But opening a gateway is beyond your current state, even beyond mine at my full power.” The shadow sighed. “Enough of this, Grif. I feel as though Luna is growing impatient in my blindspot.”
“You lost. Are you going to surrender peacefully and stop this charade?
“It’s not in my nature to give up easily.” The shadow pulled a greatsword out of the void around them.
“It’s also not in your nature to be a total idiot,” Grif responded.
“Just get on with it.”
Grif charged Hammer Strike, who braced himself and moved to counter. As he had expected, Grif flipped over his head at the last minute, before striking, but when he turned to counter, his face met the oncoming flat of Luna’s scythe at full power. Being only part of Hammer Strike, the shadow was nowhere near as ready for the blow as he had expected, and hit the ground hard. Grif cut the tendons in all four of the shadow’s calves in a flurry of quick, precise movements, while Luna used blunt force to break each leg in turn. Even with Hammer Strike’s healing factor, it wouldn’t be a fast recovery.
“Surrender,” Grif repeated.
“Damn you both,” Shadow Strike sighed. “Like usual, huh?” he asked, staring into the void.
“It’s like I said. Like this, you’re not strong enough to fight us,” Grif noted. “I know it’s hard. I know what it’s like. But you can’t let this continue.”
“Damn it, I know I can’t,” he frowned. “It’s always going to end like this. I’ve known it for countless years. But you know how that song and dance goes. Even when we know we can’t have it, there’s always a part of us that will endlessly yearn for it.”
“It’s learning to put such urges aside for a greater cause that we find true strength,” Luna offered. “We have both been in the same position as you.”
“I know.”
“Then, for once, trust us,” Luna urged.
The shadow pushed himself into a seated position, still staring out ahead. “... All right,” he finally said.
“Then you’ll re-merge with your other self?” she asked.
“Once we’re finished remembering,” he sighed. “Just… go on. I’ll be there shortly.” He gestured to the cracked door in the distance.
“First, I require your word. Swear on Rarity’s life,” Luna said.
Shadow Strike let out a tired sigh as he rolled his eyes. “I swear, on Rarity’s life, on everything I hold dear. I will go peacefully.”
“Very well.” Luna replaced the scythe on her back, and Grif sheathed his blades. The two turned and headed for the door that was indicated, stopping only long enough for Luna to place Vital on her back and Grif to do likewise with Pensword.
Grif and Luna found themselves back at the room just before the throne room, only it looked cleaner somehow, less dark and edgy. The two placed Vital and Pensword so their backs were to a wall. Then Grif nodded to Luna, and she conjured a blast of ice water, striking both ponies.
Pensword started awake with a sputter. “That’s two for two. Just….” He trailed off to stare at their surroundings. “I remember us fighting in that … place, then….” His brow furrowed. “That shadow hit me. What happened? Is it over?”
“That place was the void. We’ll go over that chapter in the book again, when we get back home,” Grif told him.
Vital groaned as he rubbed the side of his head. “Man, Hammer Strike sure knows how to throw a punch.”
“At least it’s over,” Luna sighed.
“So … everything’s cool now?” Vital Spark looked around the room. “Funny. I thought the whole place would’ve come apart without Shadow Strike to support it.”
“I am still supporting this, I hope you realize.” The throne room doors opened once again as Shadow Strike exited into the hall. The throne room behind him was fully restored. “These two aren’t exactly heartless enough to kill me.”
“Never said they would. We didn’t plan to kill you, when we came for you in the first place.”
“Yet you voiced your curiosity how this place still stands. As long as I exist, it exists.”
“I … kinda thought you might’ve merged back with the other Hammer Strike.”
“My other half isn’t exactly ready for me,” he chuckled. “Won’t be for some time, after all this….”
“As long as you don’t bring those void beings with you. I got a pretty bad vibe from them,” Pensword said with a shudder.
The shadow suddenly started laughing. “You think,” he gasped, “you think I want them here? I can’t control when they pass their gaze over my being! They’ve watched over me since the day we arrived here.”
“How long do you figure it will take, before you’re ready to return?” Grif asked.
“In which sense? As I am currently separated, are you referring to myself, or are you referring to the me you know on the outside?”
“The latter.”
“He’ll come to within the next hour. Right now, I’d suspect Golden Oak is finished collecting our memories, and is sorting through them. Our personality will be … somewhat different for a short while.”
“To be expected,” Grif nodded.
“Agreed. I had a war to keep things from freaking out. There’s no telling how Hammer Strike will react, or rather, Golden Oak,” Pensword said.
“I’ve got nearly a hundred years worth of memory to sort through. I’ll be fine.”
“Even if you aren't, you’ve got friends to lean on and support thee through this time.”
Shadow Strike gave a faint chuckle. “I still can’t help but find it amusing how, despite me being in the past the longest, you appear to be the one stuck in it.”
“I was semi stuck in the past when thou didst meet me on Earth,” Pensword answered, using the archaisms on purpose this time. “Amature historian, remember?” he asked with his own chuckle.
“I remember. For the most part, that is.” Shadow Strike hummed to himself. “I wonder what the most effective way to deal with that would be.” He glanced to the group. “Perhaps second best, instead,” he mused.
“Well, at least we have come to an accord of sorts.” Pensword chuckled in response. “Still, I hope that next time, if there is a next time, we will be allies.”
“I’ll think about it.” He gave a faint smile. “Now get out of here. I’ve got work to do to ensure the minor shadows are dealt with. I’m surprised you didn’t run into Celestia, or even the Shields.”
“Sheer dumb luck,” Vital said, then chuckled. “But it seems we’ve had that on our side before.”
“I guess my luck had to go somewhere,” the shadow shrugged, before pointing towards the entrance of the castle. Then he turned to another hallway. “You should know the way out.”
“Sounds good,” Pensword answered as he moved his limbs. “This was a most interesting adventure.”
“We’re not done just yet. We still have a few loose ends to tie up in Ponyville, while Golden Oak processes, anyways,” Vital pointed out. “Like a certain tribalist mayor.”
“That’s a horrible idea,” Shadow Strike commented as he stopped to glance at the group one last time. “The minor shadows in here have all left, and are potentially scattered into the cognitive world. Not only that, but I sense a presence watching over you all, and I can tell it’s not pleased.”
“We seem to do that to a lot of folks,” Pensword responded. “Maybe we can write to Celestia or leave something with the Apples.”
“Don’t know, and don’t care.” The shadow continued down the hallway and around the corner. “Have fun with your troubles,” he finished as a soft dinging echoed from the hall.
“Well, I guess that's that,” Grif said, yawning. “Let's head out.”
“Yes. I think it is time to head out to the real world,” Pensword agreed as the yawn carried over to him.
“Luna, if you would be so kind?” Vital asked. “Or do we need to stop by the Velvet Room one last time, first?”
“Vital, did you not pay attention to Igor? We won’t be returning to the Velvet Room,” Luna chastised as her horn began to glow.
Vital shrugged. “I figured he could have been lying. He was the oath breaker, after all.”
“That doesn’t mean he will always lie.” Luna rolled her eyes as she shook her head. “You really need to learn the difference between an oath and a promise.”
“I’ll make it a point to ask Clover when we get back, especially since there’s the question of how those two differ when it comes to a contract as well,” Vital mused.
With that said, the group vanished in a flash of light.
The sun hung low over the horizon as the four friends returned to the real world once more. The familiar sturdy wood of the golden oak towered above them. The lingering smoke of their campfire rose in a wispy column with utensils and tent just as they had been when they left. A cool evening breeze ruffled their manes and crest as the friends looked back and forth at one another. Weariness and concern flashed between them all as the final moments of their time in the cognitive plane passed through their minds. They had succeeded. The shadow was defeated. Well, it was placated, at least. And their old friend would be an amnesiac no longer. But despite the shadow’s assurance, the worries remained. Would Golden Oak really be able to handle his past? How would that impact his life here? All wished to be by his side, but all knew that they had to wait.
Vital was the first to break the silence as he cleared his throat. “I’ll just go ahead and see about brewing up some tea. Anybody else want something?”
“Some tea would be good,” Pensword agreed
Grif was too busy checking out his new coat, which seemed to have survived the trip to the real world.
“I need a drink,” Luna said. Her horn ignited and a bottle of lightly glowing clear liquid appeared in her grasp. She uncorked the pure moonshine and took a drink straight from the bottle.
Pensword just stared. “I remember you giving me a thimble of that stuff. … I woke up the next evening unable to remember anything between those two events.”
“She’s an Alicorn, Pensword. That stuff is probably like a mug of beer to her,” Vital said.
“Last time I gave Celestia any, she woke up five weeks later in the Dragon kingdom wearing a lampshade on her head,” Luna said flatly. “It also killed a Dragon lord, though I can never remember which one.”
“Hence the thimble,” Pensword finished, waiting for the kettle to whistle.
“... I really seem to have a gift for sticking my hoof in my mouth, don’t I?” Vital deadpanned.
“At least you didn’t get your cutie mark in it,” Luna offered.
“Now I am curious what that would look like.” He winced then. “And … let’s not tell the CMC about that idea.”
Vital chuckled. “Pretty sure they wouldn’t want to try that one. But I suppose it’s better to be safe than sorry.” He sighed. “So that stuff’s really alcohol?”
“Light from the moon came first from the sun. As you may know, light moves through time faster than the rest of the world. When it picks up the particles that turn it silver, it begins the fermentation process. By the time it reaches the earth, it has the same vintage of a thousand year old whiskey.”
Vital whistled. “No wonder it packs a punch.”
“Yeah,” Pensword answered with a smirk. “So, you have an interesting scythe now, Luna. Are you planning to use it to scare that mayor onto the straight and narrow?”
“Pensword, I feel for you, but you are asking for us to meddle in history.”
“Something’s going to have to be done, or at least started, before we leave, Luna,” Vital noted. “But if it is, I’m guessing it’ll likely need to come from the figure who had such an impact on this town in the first place.” He looked back towards the oak. “And that’s assuming it’ll even need a nudge from him. We don’t exactly have a play by play for how Ponyville became an accepting town.”
“The doctor was afraid of this,” Grif sighed, turning back to the conversation.
“Afraid of what?” Pensword asked. “Also, happy to have you back with us, Grif.”
“That you two would suddenly decide messing with the timestream was a good idea.”
“Okay, for the record, I never said messing with the time stream was what we were necessarily supposed to do. But you do have to admit, Grif, sometimes things do need a little nudge.” Vital sighed and shook his head. “And now I understand the headaches Pensword had to deal with before. Unless we have a precise archive, there’s no telling if we’re supposed to interfere or not.”
“So … we let things be? Usually, when we end up in the past, we leave a mark. If the Doctor says we don’t this time, I’ll leave it alone. I’m just going off past experiences,” Pensword noted.
“Well let me clear this one up for you. This mayor’s term is what pushes Canterlot to put its hoof down. They send a legal representative to Ponyville to see that things are properly reorganized,” Grif said. “But only after a major incident, which we did not cause.”
“Then I guess we just have to wait for Hammer Strike to finish his awakening and hope he comes to find us afterwards. He’ll probably need to say his goodbyes to the Apples, too,” Vital noted.
“Okay,” Pensword answered as a hint of a blush shone under his cheeks. Missing that bit of information in his research was a rookie mistake.
”I hope this doesn’t take long. I’d like to get home,” Grif said.
“You could always go check on him, if you want,” Vital noted as he looked calmly over the kettle. “I think it’s ready to steep. Did you have any particular blend you wanted this time, Pensword?”
“Any of the blends you brought with you. I wouldn’t mind Kash’s Jasmine.”
Vital nodded. “Then jasmine it is.”
Golden Oak’s eyes snapped open as he gasped. The sweet scent of dusty lumber and dried apples wafted through his nose. He trembled as the air wavered around him, then took a deep breath to calm his shaking body. He blinked a few times to clear his vision as he looked up to a familiar green face and several others looking intently, each with a bucket and damp cloths. Sunlight streamed in through the hayloft and open doors to rest on his scar-ridden fur. Crates full of mason jars, bunny costumes, paint supplies, and various other equipment stacked along the walls.
“Caramel?” he questioned, glancing around once again, before reaching a hoof up to rub the back of his head.
A tall stallion with gray eyes and a rusty coat smiled tiredly beside her. A bright red cross inside a white circle stood prominently on his flanks. “Looks like he’s finally coming down. Good work, everypony.”
Caramel grabbed Golden Oak’s neck in a massive hug as tears of relief fell down her cheeks to run into the stallion’s fur. “Don’t you ever scare me like that again,” she scolded.
“I’m sorry,” he sighed. “I didn’t mean to worry anypony. I … just didn’t expect what happened.”
“What exactly did happen to you, anyways? It’s not like you to let yourself work too hard,” Mister Smith’s rugged voice said. “If it weren’t for old Red Cross here, we’ve no idea what could’ve happened next.”
The stallion let of a small chuckle. “If only you knew.” He slowly moved himself into an upright position, despite being told multiple times to take things slow. “I … finally remember. Every little memory that escaped me. I finally remember them.”
“Some sort of seizure?” Red Cross pondered with furrowed brow. “I suppose it’s possible….” He looked up again. “How’s your head? Everything working proper?”
“I’m fine. I can assure you of that.” He gave a soft smile.
Caramel finally managed to raise her head up again. “But … if you finally got your memory back, then who are you really?”
“My name is Hammer Strike, and through means I cannot fully explain, I found myself here seventeen-ish years ago.”
“Well, obviously,” Caramel chuckled. “I was the one who found you.” She tapped her chin ponderingly. “Hammer Strike. It suits you.”
He gave a faint chuckle. “I’d certainly hope so.” He gave a soft sigh. “I hate to say it, but I’ll have to leave sometime soon.”
“Not until you’re good and recovered, young colt, and that’s an order,” Bobbin insisted as she strode forward. Her red mane had since become streaked with silver, but the iron in her hadn’t changed one iota. “You’re staying the night with us. And I won’t take no for an answer, you hear?”
Hammer Strike gave a short laugh. “I don’t think I can find it in myself to argue with you.”
Bobbin smirked. “At least he kept some of his good sense.” That soon put everypony to laughing as Hammer Strike got slowly to his hooves.
“I’m certain a few of my friends would disagree with that one.” He gave a soft smile. “He used to have to force me to take a break from my work.”
“Then he’s a wise Pony,” Bobbin said.
“A Gryphon, actually. Amusingly enough, he found me a month ago and, in order to keep an eye on me while I recovered my memories, has been staying at my home, paying rent as a hunter.”
Bobbin scowled. “You mean to tell me he’s lying?”
“He’s certainly a hunter. He has the certification, but he had been trying to help me remember this entire time. In fact, I’m almost certain he’s on his way to determine my current condition.”
“Well, after I made sure the others were all right,” Gabriel spoke up. “Forgive me. The door was open.”
“And you are?” Caramel’s father asked.
“My name is Gabriel, and I am with the order of monster hunters in the name of Lady Faust and Lord Sleipnir, and at her highness’ pleasure.” Gabriel gave a bow.
“Well, if you’re a friend to Gold–” he cleared his throat “–to Hammer Strike, then I guess that makes you a part of our little family, too. Wish you’d said something sooner, though.” He chuckled. “Could’ve saved us a lot of worry.”
“I’m afraid the situation was … complicated. Suffice it to say, things had to be handled delicately.”
“You saying there was some kind of a monster involved?”
“Yes.” He looked to Hammer Strike. “One far more dangerous than most I’ve faced.”
“Don’t remind me.” Hammer Strike rubbed the back of his head. “I’m still getting pieces from that part….”
“I must thank you, friends, for your actions towards Hammer Strike. It warms my heart to know good Ponies found him, when I could not be there to help.”
“‘Tweren’t hardly nothin’,” Caramel smiled. “He did more for us than we did for him, really.”
“Still, please take this as a sign of gratitude,” Gabriel said, placing a bag of bits on the floor.
“Only if you’re staying for dinner. I insist,” Bobbin pressed.
“I must see to my companions,” Gabriel said. “They will be waiting.”
“Then bring them along. The more the merrier.”
The Gryphon’s beak pulled up into a smile. “I suppose I cannot say no, then. My gratitude for your hospitality. Not many are so accepting of my kind.”
“If Hammer’s vouching for you, that’s good enough for me. Supper time’s at seven sharp. Don’t be late.”
“I won’t.” Gabriel’s smile widened. “Shall I leave you here, then?” he asked Hammer Strike.
“I’ll be fine,” he chuckled softly. “Go on.”
“I will return.” Gabriel bowed again, then took his leave.
“You know, for a time traveler, he has an annoying habit of being late,” Grif said from their spot outside of Ponyville.
“He didn’t exactly give us an exact date for when he would pick us up, Grif,” Vital noted.
“He said he’d be there to pick us up when we needed it,” Grif countered.
“Then maybe we don’t need it yet? Either that or the TARDIS simply didn’t want to cooperate. You know she has a mind of her own.”
“Well, we had the dinner party, so that was nice,” Pensword noted.
“The TARDIS tends to arrive at just the right moment to either interrupt something or place emphasis on something,” Hammer Strike commented.
“So … are we at least packed for the trip home?”
“I don’t think we’d be standing here, if we weren't, Pensword,” Vital deadpanned.
Pensword winced. “Hey. I’m just covering my bases.”
“I’ll be glad to get home and see my girls,” Grif sighed, “and get started on rebuilding the defenses … again.”
“Oh, yeah. I was pulled away before the fight,” Hammer Strike hummed.
“We won,” Grif said. “Thanks to Trixie, actually, so, yeah, that was awkward.”
“How are we going to hide her now?” Pensword asked. “That is going to be intense.”
“We won’t,” Grif shrugged. “We’ll simply make it clear what happens to any who’d go after her. After all, no one goes after my friends and family and gets away with it.” He winked at Vital. “You’ll have your hands full, when we get back.”
Vital blushed heavily. “Yeah. That’s … still processing a bit.”
“It usually takes a while the first time, except for Hammer Strike, but, technically, he had sixty years or so to plan it.” Grif smiled supportively as he clapped the Unicorn on the back.
“I just hope she doesn’t get too upset when she finds out about our time traveling.”
“Clover didn’t cover it already?”
“Well, we might arrive an hour after we left, but I won’t bank on the Tardis being nice,” Pensword said.
“She basically said she’d flay me alive, if I told Trixie before we left.”
“Ah.” Grif nodded. “Well, that’s for later.”
“The telling or the flaying?”
Grif shrugged. “Whatever floats your boat. So, who’s your best man?”
“I … hadn’t really put much thought into it. I mean, we’ve kind of been dealing with some pretty pressing stuff.”
“This is your wedding. I’ve fought in wars less pressing. Heck, even Hammer Strike was slightly unnerved at his wedding,” Grif laughed.
“I was nervous for my wedding as well,” Pensword agreed. “It’s perfectly normal.”
“I … don’t know if I even should have a best man. I mean, you guys are all my friends. How am I supposed to be able to choose?”
“Then don’t choose us,” Grif shrugged. “You have other friends, … right?”
“Well, I have acquaintances, but … honestly, not really so much. You guys have kept me pretty close, and my training’s kept me pretty busy with all the catching up I’ve had to do with the other mages.” He stroked his chin in thought. “I suppose Rook would count. He’s been pretty supportive, all things considered, and he’s got Taze’s mischievous streak when it comes to trolling.”
“Taze didn’t live under a bridge,” Grif chuckled.
“Neither does Celestia.”
“Touché,” Grif laughed. He stopped when a familiar sound began to filter through the air. “Finally.”
“Yes, I am really looking forward to seeing my family again. Maybe Mutatio could be your best Pony?” Pensword teased.
“Pensword, I hardly know the guy. He’s almost always at the hive with Me-Me, looking to his duties as head drone. I’ll be happy to invite them to the wedding. It’d be stupid for me not to, with all Me-Me did to help me when I was adjusting. But for that particular title, I’ll need to choose someone else.” Vital sighed. “Give me enough time, and I’m sure I’ll come up with the right choice eventually.”
“I was teasing,” Pensword deadpanned. “Do what you think is right, Vital spark.”
The blue box appeared once again as a mysterious wind swirled around it, before it settled into reality with a booming thump. The door creaked open to reveal a silvery-furred feline with vivid blue eyes and curled, wavy hair. A woven boater hat was cocked lopsidedly on his head, a sunny complement to the pressed white suit he wore. A familiar scarf hung around his neck on either side as he peered out at the four companions.
“Quite the timing, Doc.” Hammer Strike glanced over the TARDIS and the Doctor.
“Uh … which regeneration are you, Doctor?” Pensword asked. “I don’t recall the feline before.”
“This would be my seventh, Pensword. And I would be exceptionally surprised, if you did recognize it. You knew me much better in some of my previous lives,” he said calmly, almost academically as he looked nonchalantly at his claws. “I take it you four need another lift?”
“As always, Doctor,” Hammer Strike nodded. “Before I find myself unable to leave.…”
“Thanks for coming for us, old girl.” Grif placed a hand affectionately on the TARDIS’ outside. “I don’t know about him sometimes, but I never doubt you.”
Pensword patted the side of the door frame with a wing. “Thank you,” he whispered. “I know you will be where we need you to be. Can we go home now? I would love to see Moon River again.”
“Say, Doctor, can I try the thing this time?” Vital asked curiously.
“Thing?”
“Yeah, that thing you do, where you snap your fingers and the doors open?”
“Snap my fingers and what?” The Doctor looked incredulously at the Unicorn. Do I really do that in the future?”
“You know, like this.” Hammer Strike stomped his hoof on the ground, and the TARDIS doors responded by opening sharply.
The Doctor gaped at the doors. “I didn’t even know it could do that.”
“Yeah. She does that alot for you. Your future lives tend to ... enjoy showing off,” Vital noted.
Grif gave a low whistle as he entered and looked around, a grin slowly widening across his beak. “I forgot how much I missed the round things.”
Extended Holiday Ch 137: Back to the Future III Act 22
Pensword stood in the main control room of the TARDIS. Something just felt so soothing, almost therapeutic, about watching the console’s central plunger unit pumping up and down rhythmically as the ship flew through the time vortex. He found himself smiling as he allowed himself to drift off, listening to the old girl sing as they traveled.
“You know, Doctor, you really need to stop pushing the blue one,” Grif said.
Of course, there was also the added perk of hearing a little about how to pilot the TARDIS. Pensword’s ear twitched as he strained to overhear the conversation.
“Why on Earth would I do a stupid thing like that? Every Time Lord knows the blue button vents the toilets on deck three. Are you saying my future self actually does that?”
“Repeatedly, according to Grif,” Vital said.
“Of all the dimwitted, idiotic, immature, positively infantile–!” the Doctor fumed.
“To be fair, there is a life-changing, horrible soul-eating event between then and now,” Grif noted.
“That doesn’t give me the right to mistreat my TARDIS,” he harrumphed.
“Also, aren’t we supposed to try to avoid telling him about his future? I mean, that’s usually other aliens’ jobs, right?” Vital asked.
“We didn’t say anything major,” Grif shrugged. “How much longer do we have?”
“It’s a time machine, Grif. Time is relative. But if you really want an answer, we should be arriving there in approximately … ten seconds, give or take,” The Doctor said as he checked one of the TARDIS’ monitors.
It was about this time that the familiar sound of the TARDIS fading into reality began. As soon the ship was stable, Grif gave the console a thank you, gave the doctor a casual wave, and was out the door.
“Until next time, Doctor,” Luna nodded to him, before following Grif out.
“I’ll see you around,” Hammer Strike said as he followed Grif’s example.
“Thanks for the help again. I’m looking forward to the next time we meet,” Vital said pleasantly, before making his way out the door.
The Doctor pushed Pensword’s shoulder with a hoof. “I know you’re enjoying yourself in here, Pensword, but all good things must come to an end. You did say you wanted to see your foals again, after all,” he said with a kindly smile, “and I have other places to be.”
Pensword shook himself from his doze. “Hmm? Oh. Oh, right. Thank you, Doctor. Hmm … I think I might ask your future self about building just a room that gives this sense of peace for me. I need it with all the stuff that happens around us.”
“Perhaps next time.”
“If it doesn’t ding, I don’t want it.”
“Oh, I did that to you some time earlier, then?”
“You did.”
“Right, well, talk to your current Doctor to see if you can at least get a telegraph hooked up to reach him. I usually have some means of contact available, in case of emergencies.”
“Thank you, Doctor,” Pensword nodded, then turned to face the console. “And thank you, you wonderful machine,” he whispered. Then he turned, brushing his wings and patting the door frame affectionately on the way out. The others were staring back, waiting expectantly.
“Farewell, gentleponies. Until next we meet.” And with that, the TARDIS’ doors creaked shut, and she faded out of sight once more.
Vital Spark lit his horn, and Hammer Strike ignited a hoof into flame as the room they had materialized within was suddenly plunged into darkness. A simple manipulation of the lock at the door, and they found themselves back in an old dusty corridor. A pile of rubble lay off in the distance, and old metal braziers sat waiting for new torches to bring warmth back to the musty space.
“So, any ideas where we are?” Vital asked.
“It appears to be underneath New Unity,” Hammer Strike commented as he looked around. “Southeast segment.”
“So, how do we get to the surface?” Grif asked.
“Follow the right wall, until we reach the stairway up.”
“Just how much subterranean exploring have you been doing here, anyways?” Vital asked curiously.
“Explorer’s trick, I would say. If you stay to the right wall, you always find a way out or up or down,” Pensword answered.
“Well, I guess there’s nowhere else to go, but forward, right?” Grif said as he followed Hammer Strike’s directions.
“Onwards and upwards,” Vital agreed.
“Grif, you owe me a bit, if we find Moon River down here. I owe you a bit if we get out of here without her ambushing one of us.”
“I don’t make stupid bets, Pensword,” Grif responded.
“The bit would go towards her education fund to be set up next time we are in the past to gather interest.”
“I don’t make stupid bets,” Grif repeated. “And I have my own education funds to work on.”
“One of these days, I will have you owe me money,” the Pegasus said ruefully.
“But it is not this day,” Vital said in a thrumming Shakespearean accent. Then he chuckled. “So how much longer till we get to the stairs, then, Luna? You should remember this place well, right?”
“When over a thousand years you are, remember a place you have not seen in a millennia will you?” Luna winked at Grif.
“Just follow me,” Hammer Strike commented as he took the lead. “The sooner we’re out of here, the better.”
“I didn’t realize Master Yoda had reincarnated,” Vital said with a playful smirk, even as he followed Hammer Strike.
“Just another hour at most, and we’ll be in our loved ones’ embrace.”
It didn’t take long for the group to find themselves in a more familiar segment of the castle’s sub levels, eventually stumbling across the final stairway leading up to the first floor.
“Good to be home,” Grif smiled.
“I love the scents,” Pensword agreed as he ruffled his feathers and spread his wings. “I’m going to find my family. See you all later.”
“I should be heading to find my family, too,” Grif said as he took off after Pensword.
“I suppose we should let everyone know we found you first. Then I’d better see about talking with Trixie. We’ve got a wedding to plan, after all.” Then Vital’s smile widened. “Oh, and I think she might have a bit of a surprise for you, too, Hammer Strike.”
“Delightful, more to deal with,” Hammer Strike sighed.
“It’s a pleasant one, Hammer Strike,” Vital said as he rolled his eyes. “You didn’t really think I’d go and burden you so quickly, did you?”
“If you won’t, something will.”
“Hey! Murphy’s supposed to make me his personal punching bag, remember?”
“When it comes to work, that usually lands in my field.”
“You think he’ll show up as a pizza man? You know, like Pappa Murphy’s?”
“Are you two going to just stay here and talk for the rest of the day?” Luna asked.
“I suppose we should go let the others know the search can be called off.” Vital shrugged. “Shall we?”
“Get to it. I’ll head to my office.” Hammer Strike rolled his shoulders and turned toward the grand staircase.
“No, you won’t,” Luna countered. “First, you’re going to see your wife and let her know you’re okay.”
Hammer Strike jerked to a halt, then rubbed his chin with a hoof. “Good point,” he hummed to himself.
“I wonder how the men fared trying to keep her from finding out about you being missing,” Vital mused. “She is pretty handy with that sword of hers.”
“How long were we gone for again?”
“Us, about ten minutes. You? The whole battle and a good day or two after.”
“Delightful,” Hammer Strike rubbed the back of his neck as they passed through into the main hall at last.
“Look at it this way. Now you finally owe somebody something,” Vital said as a smile spread on his face. “You owe her an explanation.”
“Yeah, there are some things I’m not looking forward to.”
“Well, you could always ask Luna for a lift to Ponyville. I can go tell the others you’re all right. I mean, it has been over seventeen years, after all.”
“You headed that way, Luna?”
“I can drop you off,” Luna nodded.
“I appreciate it.”
Luna nodded again and stepped closer to the Earth Pony. The two vanished in a flash of light shortly after.
“And now to let everypony else know they can stop worrying.” Vital smiled confidently as he strode towards the barracks.
“I missed you,” Grif said happily as he wrapped his wings tightly around his family.
“Okay, what did you do, Grif?” Shrial asked as she raised a skeptical brow at him.
“Had a very long ten minutes,” Grif chuckled as he hugged them tighter.
Of course, the girls had already sidled up to him and nuzzled him affectionately as Avalon nursed Tazeer. “You’ll have to tell us all about it. Perhaps over some dinner?”
“Probably, yeah,” he chuckled. “But for now, just know that Hammer Strike’s back, and by the Winds, I missed you.”
Gilda blushed. “Heh. Yeah. I guess we did, too.”
He released them and stepped away. “You don’t have to be tough all the time, Gilda,” he teased.
Gilda hastily began to preen her feathers to avoid showing off any more of said blush. “How else are we supposed to teach the kids?” she mumbled.
“By showing them that sometimes being tender doesn’t mean you aren't strong.” He patted her head.
“After all, control’s a big thing for us to learn. You remember that, don’t you, Gilda?” Shrial pointed out.
Gilda blushed again. “I’m starting to see how this can be a punishment.”
“You regretting it?” Grif asked.
“O-of course not!” Miraculously enough, her feathers seemed to be changing color, dying a deeper and deeper red with each moment.
“Well then, don’t look at it that way.” He laughed. “Look at it as a chance to show that side of yourself our culture has tried to make you repress for ages.”
Gilda was silent for a time. “... This is going to take some getting used to.”
“Well, we’ve got time. Plenty of it, in fact.” He kissed her gently. “And we’re all here for you.”
“... Yeah. I guess….”
“Do you love me?” he asked.
Steam was starting to rise from Gilda’s head. “Grif….”
“Yes?” he responded.
A barely audible grumble left her beak as she kept staring at the floor.
“I couldn’t hear that.”
“Yeah … I guess….” Though the fact that her wings were trying to flap out involuntarily was a pretty big indicator just how strongly she really felt.
“Gilda, I love you. There is a special place in my heart I keep for each of you.” He reached down and pulled her beak up to make her look him in the eye. “You should never be afraid to say how you feel. Emotions are what make warriors able to take a stand when it counts.” He placed his forehead on hers. “But don’t worry. We’ll work on it together.”
Gilda smirked suddenly, then grabbed the back of his head and pulled his beak against hers in a passionate kiss. Avalon and Shrial were swift to cover the cubs’ eyes. A few moments later, Gilda released, panting. “That a good start?”
Grif chuckled. “Definitely. Now come on. Let’s see what we have for dinner. I’m hungry.”
“Did someone say dinner? I hope we’re having tea,” Cheshire purred.
“Of course there’ll be tea, Chesh,” Grif laughed as he scooped the twins up and placed them on his back. “Lets go.”
Cheshire’s son was already on his back between them, looking at them with a smile that was at once calm and reassuring, yet positively terrifying. Naturally, the girls just grinned and babbled excitedly over his miraculous appearance.
“We could try teaching them how to do it, too, if you’d like, Grif, though I make no promises,” Cheshire smirked.
The twins mewled even more excitedly.
“And that’s the long of the short of it, gentlemen,” Vital said as he looked on the Shields and Rook. “Hammer Strike is safe and sound, and we can focus on bolstering defenses and recovering again.”
“And preparing for a wedding?” Rook smirked.
“That, too. Speaking of, can you guys make sure to send a strict warning to the Pegasi? I don’t take practical jokes well. And they can and will receive retaliation. I’m only giving them one warning.”
“I’ll pass it on,” Rook nodded.
“But speaking of that wedding, Rook, you and I need to talk in private later. When are you usually free?”
“Probably not until late. Someone’s gotta organize Grif’s roughnecks.”
“Evening it is, then. I’ll drop by your quarters, after I talk plans over with my fiance.” Then his eyes widened. “Crap! I still need to get a ring!”
“I’m sure you’ll find one somewhere around here,” Rook laughed.
“It … is still customary for the groom to get the proposal item, right? Even if he wasn’t the one to … you know, actually ask?” he blushed.
“It’s usually up to the couples, and it doesn’t need to be a ring. That’s only what Canterlot Unicorns use. It could be an earring or a bracelet. Heck, I even heard of one couple where the stallion gave the mare an apple,” Rook noted.
“So, I just have to figure out something that really fits her best?”
“That's the general idea,” Rook nodded.
“Then I guess I’d better get cracking. Thanks, Rook!” And with that, Vital was galloping off down the hallways as fast as his hooves could carry him. After all, he had a wedding gift to prepare, and he knew just the Pony to help him research the ingredients he’d need.
Pensword had done one thing immediately when he got back: clear his schedule for the next two days. He was going to spend them with his family and clan and nothing else would interrupt them, short of an all-out war with another nation. But there was a matter of certain business that needed attending to do first. “So … are we good for selling our spices and some of our Thestral designed blankets? After all, the tourists are starting to show up, and as we control the prices, we need to sell things.”
Moon Shadow, an aged Mare who had arrived on the most recent airship, grinned. “Yes, and the Fox Tribe will be willing to lend some of our apprentice mares to set up some of those soothsayer tents that I hear are all the rage during Nightmare Night.” She chuckled and brushed a wing down her barrel in a move that reminded Pensword of a smug person buffing their fingers on their chest. “Still, of course we’ll pay twenty percent of the week’s proceeds in tax.”
“Ten Percent,” Pensword corrected. “Use the other ten to reinvest into the area.”
Moon Shadow nodded. “If you say so. In other news, the Lion Clan is planning to set up a hunting lodge to take big spenders on exotic hunts. It helps to keep the wild predators down, while also allowing us to use anything the hunters don’t want as trophies.”
“Make sure that they have the proper legal release documents, if they move forward with this plan. I don’t want a class action lawsuit on our hooves.”
Moon Shadow nodded her acknowledgement. “Very well. I think that concludes our end. And with this income, I think we’ll be able to save up enough to get started on a second dock, after we break even.”
“Of course. Also, see about selling any surplus hides we might get to New Unity, and make contact with Clover to offer our services gathering reagents and other ingredients.”
“We’ll consider that.” With that said, Moon Shadow turned around and left the office. Pensword smiled as he put his documents into order. He was looking forward to the rest of his self imposed vacation. Yes, a nice weekend of trapping and hunting should prove therapeutic, and he wanted to assess Night Terror’s progress and acclimation personally.
“Preston!” he called. The Changeling quickly entered the office. “I’m going to give you a loan request to give to Hammer Strike for funding for the warehouses. Please make sure it gets to him as soon as possible. After that, make sure Moon Burn and Lighting Dust know that they will be rotated into command of the Demon Slayers. It’s time they learned some proper leadership skills. Also, tell Kahn he has a weekend pass.”
Preston nodded. “Will that be all, Sir?”
“No. I plan to take my family out from the city for a day or two. The children could use something to keep their minds off the bloodshed. When I get back, I want to organize a meeting with Spitfire. The Wonderbolts will need to be brought up to date on their exercises.” He picked over Luna’s bill proposal. While family time was the main purpose of the vacation, he wanted to be certain no unexpected surprises slipped through the cracks, due to a potential error on Luna’s part. It wouldn’t be long now, before the bill was introduced in the noble courts. He signed a few parchments casually, then nodded. “Okay, Preston, I’m off for the weekend. See you when I get back.”
“Of course, Sir. And Me-Me wishes you luck with your endeavors.”
“Really Twilight, thank you so much for inviting me over for tea. It’s nice to be able to have a little girl time, without all the worry for designs bothering me,” Rarity said with a smile as she levitated the sugar container over her teacup to mix. “It’s been a while since we were able to talk just the two of us, anyways, and it’s quite clear we have a lot to talk about.”
“Such as?” Twilight asked.
“Well, for one, I’d like to hear about how you fared in the fight earlier. I haven’t exactly been able to see you in action, and I’d love to hear the details. Of course, if you’re not comfortable talking about it, we could easily focus on something else.”
“I … don’t know if there’s really that much to tell, Rarity,” Twilight said as she levitated a cookie and dipped it in her tea, before taking a bite. “I just followed the training I’ve been taking under Clover. I’ll admit Hammer Strike’s physical training made a lot of difference when it came to dealing with those drones with the blue crystals, though.”
“We really must try a sparring match at some point. I haven’t tried going against a staff wielder yet.”
“If we do, we’ll have to keep it strictly non-magical,” Twilight mused. “No offense to you, Rarity, but my magic is probably only safe to really go all out with when it comes to Celestia, Luna, Cadence, or Hammer Strike.”
“Well, of course, darling. I wouldn’t even dream of trying to overpower you that way.” She waved her hoof, as if to dispel the notion entirely. “Though, if you do happen to have any pointers on how to channel spells through a weapon, that might come in handy to know at some point, should the need arise.”
“You could always take that intermediary course Clover is teaching. She really is good. If anyone can help you channel spells through Seamripper, it’s her.”
“You wouldn’t happen to have any books on the subject, would you?”
“I have a few historical references,” Twilight said as she tapped her chin in thought, “but I don’t think the library has many combat manuals. It’s a bit dangerous to have something like that around rambunxious foals.”
“Hmm. Yes, I suppose you’re right.” Rarity swirled her teacup around a few times, then took a sip. “I’ll see about asking the next time I visit the castle. Speaking of which, how are the repairs coming? I assume you’ve had at least a part in helping over there.”
“Not really. I’ve had my hooves full enough here making sure Ponyville gets back into shape. Luna sent me a message telling me they have things well in hoof over there, though, so I’m sure there’s nothing to worry about.”
Rarity furrowed her brow. “I suppose so, but I can’t help but wonder why Hammer Strike hasn’t come by to visit, or at least sent a letter. He always makes time to talk with me, after a battle.”
“Maybe he’s working on a gift for you,” Twilight offered. “You know how focused he gets when he’s involved in a project.”
“I think I might stop by the castle, regardless,” Rarity said as she took another drink. “I mean, he is my husband, after all.”
Twilight’s cup suddenly burst into shards. “Oops.” She let out a nervous laugh. “Sorry. Guess I still don’t know my own strength sometimes. I’ll clean it up.” She levitated a brush and dustpan over to swipe the pieces, while Rarity dabbed at the table with a free napkin.
“Twilight, is something the matter? The only time I’ve seen you get this worked up was when you were trying to keep that Pinkie promise you made to me and … Fluttershy.” She lowered the napkin. “Twilight, dear,” Her tone was sweet, her smile kind, but the levelness betrayed what lay beneath. “Did you happen to make a Pinkie Promise to Princess Luna about something at the castle she didn’t want me to find out about?”
Twilight chuckled nervously. “Um … maybe?”
“And did that something possibly have anything to do with my Strikey Wikey?”
Twilight’s mouth widened into a broad toothy grin that wasn’t at all sincere. “I really couldn’t say.” A large wicker basket filled with baked goods was suddenly shoved in Rarity’s face. “Have another cookie? They’re fresh out of the Cakes’ bakery.”
“I see.” Rarity smiled sweetly. “Twilight dear, would you excuse me for a moment? I just need to go powder my nose. I’ll be right back.”
“O-of course,” Twilight said, nodding vigorously. “Totally understand. You know where it is. Well, of course you know where it is. I wasn’t about to call you stupid or anything, just–.”
“Twilight!” Rarity snapped. “Breathe.”
Twilight did so, levitating a large paper bag from a pile she kept in the storage closet. She promptly began to hyperventilate into it as Rarity walked into the bathroom. What followed was a series of positively disastrous detonations, streaming vituperations, a harrowing scream on par with that of a banshee, and several snorts and bucks in between. Twilight winced at the sound of breaking glass. She’d have to replace that window later.
“What was that about?” Hammer Strike questioned. He was currently positioned near the front door.
Twilight gasped, sucking the entirety of the bag to the point where it was practically a perfectly rendering of her muzzle. Then it inflated, swelling well beyond the confines of an ordinary vessel, until it burst apart, causing a veritable shockwave of sound to fly directly into the Earth Pony’s face as her Canterlot voice burst every window in the library. “HAMMER STRIKE!”
After a moment of silence, Hammer Strike sighed longsufferingly. “At this rate, I’ll go deaf in a year.”
A rather unladylike, “Eep!” sounded weakly from behind the bathroom door as Rarity’s sudden tantrum was practically bulldozered by the surprise-filled announcement.
“Oh, I am so sorry about that. Really, I am,” Twilight gushed. “It’s just, first the battle, then you going missing, then Luna writing to tell me they’re going to look for you, and something about Time Turner getting involved, and having to organize the Thestrals, in case you didn’t get back soon enough, and–.”
“It’s all right, Twilight. Calm down. Grab another one of your bags, if you need to,” he replied, raising a hoof to stop her. “I actually came by to check up on things, as well as update Rarity on the events of my disappearance.”
Twilight took about a minute or so to get her breathing back under control. Then she promptly sat down to prevent the dizziness from getting to her. “She’s in the bathroom. You know the place.” She waved a hoof tiredly toward the door, then started levitating books over to her. “Don’t mind me. I’m just … going to do some reorganizing. For the sake of my sanity.”
“I can wait,” he shrugged. “To be honest, I’m still dealing with the ringing in my ears.”
After a good five minutes or so, Twilight found herself capable of more coherent speech, and Hammer Strike was able to sample a few of the baked goods from the basket, including a welcome back cupcake that had somehow materialized in all the chaos.
“You may have to go in and get her,” Twilight noted. “She’s probably too embarrassed to come out on her own.”
“I think it’s more amusing this way.” Hammer Strike chuckled softly as he moved towards one of the walls to inspect it. “She’ll be out eventually.”
“Are … are you … teasing her?” Twilight raised a brow in disbelief.
“Me? Never,” Hammer Strike replied with a grin, before going to back to investigate the wall.
“... Okay, I think I’m going to go lie down now. I must be hallucinating,” the princess said as she clopped her way towards the stairs. “You two have fun.”
After a few moments, Hammer Strike let out another soft chuckle. “Do you plan on sitting in there forever, Rarity?”
The door opened a crack. “I’m so ashamed. You weren’t supposed to see me like this.”
“I didn’t see a thing, to be fair,” Hammer Strike offered with a shrug.
“Oh, but you must have heard it. Half of Ponyville probably did.”
“Well, you aren’t wrong, but it’s nothing compared to some of the stuff you all have dealt with in this place.”
“It’s just … so unladylike of me,” she weedled from the crack.
“It’s alright, dear. Calm down and come out here,” Hammer Strike chuckled. “I know this tree like the back of my hoof by this point. I can get you out here, if needed.”
Rarity gasped. “You’re bluffing. You wouldn’t dare.”
“Need I prove myself?”
There was about a minute of silence. “Fine, I’m coming out. But only because I don’t want to risk any more damage to Twilight’s home.” The door slowly creaked open, and an incredibly bashful Rarity stepped out of the ravaged remains of Twilight’s restroom. Chunks of porcelain and various other remains and accessories littered the floor, alongside a puddle of water near a pipe she had busted, before cutting off the water flow.
“I’m sure Twilight has a repair spell.”
Rarity blushed. “So, where do we go from here?”
“We discuss what events transpired, either here or at your place. I would say in New Unity, but I’d prefer to get this conversation going before sundown.”
Rarity smiled weakly as she levitated the basket. “Cookie before we start? I mean, we do already have the tea here. It would be such a pity to let it go to waste.”
Hammer Strike returned the smile. “Sure. I suppose it would be a good idea, as this may be a lengthy story, one I’m sure Twilight will walk in on at a point that makes me have to repeat several parts.”
Rarity giggled. “That does sound like her.” And suddenly everything was all right again. She took her seat, flicked her hair to the side, then lifted a fresh teacup to pour. “Now, then. Why don’t you start from the beginning? I haven’t heard anything about this yet. Princess Luna made Twilight promise to run interference.”
“I suppose you’d say I had to work alongside the plan of an embodiment or, well, die,” he started, scratching at his beard as he thought on the events. “Memory spell and all that kinda jumbles it all together into one moment in my mind. In any case, multiple entities of the embodiments don’t like me, and tried to create a method outside of the norm to kill me. As I still have several things I need to do before I die, I was approached and told I would be placed a week forward in time. Instead, I ended up over a hundred years in the past.”
And so, Hammer Strike proceeded to recount his story one step at a time. When he reached the point over the stranger handing him the shoes in the first place, a rather shrill, “What?” greeted both Ponies as a rather shocked Twilight stared at the Earth Pony.
“I know how to call it,” Hammer Strike chuckled. “Yes, Twilight?”
“What on earth possessed you to take a random set of horseshoes from a complete stranger? That’s just asking for trouble.”
“With the state my mind was in, I appeared to have little care for my own being, despite not knowing the power I had to back it up,” he hummed to himself. “He was quite interesting. I could practically feel his presence, before he came near my campfire. While he wore a large cloak, covering almost all of his body, I could see that he was a very large stallion with a grey coat and a more golden mane.” He furrowed his brow. “It was odd, actually. I could swear it was at least two or more Ponies walking over to me. Either that or … he had multiple sets of hooves.” He hummed to himself as he suddenly drifted into thought.
“Hammer Strike, I don’t think there’s any record of a Pony like that. The closest thing we have in relation to something along those lines is Sleipnir, and he’s a horse, not a Pony,” Twilight mused. “Not to mention he hasn’t been seen in millennia, if not eons. A lot of accounts are … less than reliable.”
“I’ve seen someone like this before,” Hammer Strike commented as he looked up. “While out on our trip some time ago, I was able to … test a new aspect on myself, one that is the base structure of reality as we know it, creation and destruction in the purest form. What I saw while I was under the effects of the aspect was … amazing, to say the least. Countless figures surrounded me, both the dead and entities beyond, embodiments of all sorts with a mixture of expressions, that sort of thing. But of all of these, only two stood out amongst them. I felt concern, and even a twinge of something more, when I viewed the second one, like an old friend I wasn’t able to recall. The second one was well beyond the other embodiments in his presence. With a steel coat, golden mane, and eight legs. The only way I could describe his presence was that of something divine. All this time later, I can still feel his presence watching. At first, I had assumed it was me, but the more I think on it, the more I think that he’s watching over much, much more. That presence was almost the same, and it would explain a lot,” he finished as he glanced down at his rear hooves.
“Sweetie, are you saying what I think you’re saying?” Rarity asked.
“I don’t know for certain, but if it is true, then everything makes sense.” Hammer Strike’s eyes ignited for a moment as he glanced at the horseshoes. “The aspects are way too abnormal, and to be honest, I can’t even determine what some of them are.” He glanced up to the two. “I might have met someone divine.”
“If you really did, it might be best for you to keep it to yourself,” Twilight pointed out. “You’re already popular enough as it is. That being said, though, it could have some very serious theological implications.”
“Delightful.”
“Let’s just hope the hierarchy at the Church of Sleipnir don’t get the wrong idea. The last person to achieve the status of visitation wound up being chosen to lead a crusade against the Gryphons. You … can imagine how well that went over with the princesses, when they heard about it.”
“Depends on the era,” Hammer Strike shrugged.
“We’d just gotten over the first Gryphon war, and tensions were still high. At least, I’m pretty sure that’s how the manuscript read. I’d have to locate it again to get the specifics.”
“I suppose I’ll look into it as well. That, and to look up information about these.” He tapped his back hoof against the ground. “Ever since I put them on, I’ve felt a new connection, and considering the way my magic works, it’s certainly unique.”
“Connection to what, Darling?” Rarity asked.
“Well, to the planet. Plant life and stuff like that. It was the reason I was able to carve out this tree so perfectly in the past. I could feel the channels of life within it and work around it.”
“Wait, you did what now?” Twilight’s head whipped faster than a hurricane as she gaped at him.
“Didn’t you wonder why this place was specifically named the ‘Golden Oak’ library? Most buildings aren’t named after what they’re made of.”
“I just assumed it was a random Pony who planted the tree in the first place. I haven’t really had much time to focus on finding out about it.”
“The name I was given while my memory was out of order was Golden Oak. I ended up using this tree as a carpentry shop, while Ponyville was in its starting days.”
“A carpentry shop?”
Hammer Strike chuckled as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, I hadn’t thought to work with metal at the time, and ended up with that. I mean, while it is strange for me, as Hammer Strike, to be a carpenter, before I actually arrived in Equestria, that was my job.”
“Just a moment. If you were there when Ponyville first started, then why didn’t Granny Smith recognize you when you returned from the war?” Rarity asked.
“She probably did, but with me not addressing her as I was, she probably thought I had another issue with my memory and didn’t say anything. Actually, I should visit them afterwards.”
“Do you want me to come with you?”
“If you would like to, I … certainly wouldn’t be opposed.”
“Good. I’d like to get to know my adopted sister.”
“Wait, what?” Twilight asked again.
Rarity and Hammer Strike took one look at each other, then burst into laughter.
Vital Spark knocked gently on the door to Trixie’s quarters. True, it had only been a short time since they had last seen each other, but there were some rather important details to iron out. And besides that, he’d never actually been to her real room before. He quickly ran a hoof through his mane to try to ensure it was neat and properly set.
“Yes? Who is it?” Trixie’s voice filtered through the door.
“It’s me, Trixie.” Vital cleared his throat. He could feel the heat rising in his cheeks already. “Can I come in?”
“Of course,” Trixie replied. The door opened to reveal a large room that seemed to have been redecorated to resemble the inside of a wagon. Wood had been used to panel the walls and floor, and several blue sheets hung across the roof. When she noticed him looking over the modifications, she blushed. “After so many years living in her wagon, Trixie has trouble sleeping outside of it, so Trixie brought her wagon to her room.”
“Did you use a modification spell or illusion of some kind, or did you just add bits and pieces here and there over time?” Vital asked curiously as he passed by a set of small bookshelves now crammed full of books on magical theory. However, not one to forget her roots, Trixie had placed the ones on showmanship and illusion on top between a set of Unicorn bookends with emerald eyes. Her focus gem sat in a mount that had recently been installed above her bed. A set of materials sat off to the side on her work bench, including a series of knives, hammers, chisels, bevels, and others.
“Trixie put it together over time. Traveling on the road has provided many opportunities for her to learn how to construct and repair wooden walls.”
“And how to adapt to new situations, it would seem,” Vital added as he walked over and nuzzled her gently on the neck. “I missed you,” he sighed.
She returned the affection. “Trixie missed you, too.”
“You make it sound like some obscure business transaction,” Trixie laughed. “We are going to be married, Vital Spark. Trixie is happier than she ever remembers.”
“Well, I wanted to ask, because it’s supposed to be customary for a Pony to get a special gift for his special somepony as a part of that, at least from what I understand of it. And since that’s the case, well, I was wondering, what would you like? I mean, what do you think would really fit the two of us?”
“Trixie doesn’t care, Vital,” she told him plainly. “I don’t care what it is, as long as we’re together.”
Vital’s blush deepened. “You know, that’s still going to take some getting used to. Mrs. Trixie Spark.” He smirked teasingly. “Has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”
“I think so, too,” she nodded, kissing him.
Vital’s eyes went wide, and he felt his lover’s wings wrapping around him. A few stray sparks flew out the top of his horn to fizzle toward the floor, until they finally broke off, and he gasped. “You … are a lot bolder than you used to be,” he panted. Then he smiled slyly. “I’m tempted to say I need an adult, but I think I know what your answer would be.”
“Why shouldn’t I be bold? I’ve learned to trust myself, I’ve found a stallion who’s truly wonderful, I’m learning magic from one of the best minds in Equestria’s history. I have so much right now.”
“And don’t forget you’re a princess on top of it all.”
“And that would make you a prince,” she laughed.
“I … have no idea how to respond to that.”
Trixie giggled. “Well then, what do you think of blue and gold for the wedding colors?”
“Oh, I’m sure Hammer Strike’s going to love it,” Vital smirked.
“Oh, there is so much to plan,” Trixie gushed, “so much to look after.”
“And we need to figure out the mare of honor and best stallion, not to mention who we’ll have standing by the altar as our bridesmares and groomstallions.”
“I think we should plan it for the first week in spring,” Trixie said.
“That soon? Don’t we need time to plan a venue, get things organized, arrange your coronation, that sort of thing?” His breathing started to hitch up as his eyes suddenly widened as the full impact of Trixie’s earlier statement finally hit home. “Oh my goodness. I’m marrying a princess.”
“I don’t want our wedding to be a matter of public spectacle. It should be a moment for us,” Trixie insisted.
“You do realize we’re neighbors to a town where keeping a secret is nigh-impossible, right? A lot of Ponies are probably going to want to attend. Though speaking of, who should we have perform the rites, anyways?”
“Would Hammer Strike be willing? He is your friend.”
Vital tapped his hoof against his chin for a moment. “I suppose you’re right. And he is the highest authority here. We don’t exactly have a priest to the churches around, so I suppose he would be the best one to perform the ceremony. Though you do realize we’re going to have to work out a proper list of guests, too, right?”
“Yes, but if I’m not coronated yet, we’re not obligated to invite half of Canterlot, are we?”
“Trixie, even if you were coronated, we still wouldn’t be obligated to invite half of Canterlot. As far as I’m aware, the stuck up nobles can suck it. Pardon my Phrench.”
“That's something we can agree on,” Trixie smiled. “Also, Vital Spark, the Phrench would be les nobles peuvent le sucer.”
“You never told me you could speak Phrench,” Vital said with some surprise.
“Most ponies in Neigh Orleans speak Phrench. I guess I never thought of it as an unusual ability.”
“You know, back home, that’s actually one of the three great romantic languages,” he said as he leaned in and nuzzled her mane behind an ear.
“Well then, I’ll have to start teaching you.” She returned the nuzzle. “Now then, what are your favorite flowers?” Trixie asked as she levitated a scroll, pen, and inkwell over. “We can make a list and compare to work out the arrangements.”
“You know, it’s hard for me to say. I like all kinds of flowers, really. Roses, carnations, lilies, lotuses, all sorts.” He chuckled. “Just as long as we’re both able to enjoy the day, I don’t really care so much about what flowers we get.”
Trixie smiled at him and kissed him just above the base of his horn. “As long as you're there, it could rain fire and I’d still be happy.”
“You know, with Hammer Strike there, that’s more than likely to happen, especially if we plan it on a Tuesday,” he teased, even as a pleasurable shudder ran through him. “So, how about you and I have a lay down, and we can really talk about that wedding, hmm?” he asked as he snorted gently in her ear.
“I’d enjoy that very much.” Trixie giggled and turned towards the bed, giving her tail a flick as she passed him.
Vital’s cheeks flushed heavily as her scent struck his nostrils, and he nickered involuntarily as he shot a beam of magic at the door, completely encasing it in ice, with a sign carved on the other side that read Do Not Disturb in big bold letters. Then he turned to the matter, and the very attractive mare, at hoof.
Hammer Strike hummed to himself as he gazed out at the apple orchard. At the moment, his coat lay folded onto his back. “Funny how I look at this now and finally comprehend how far this has come.”
“Sometimes, it amazes me, too,” Applejack spoke up as she walked out through some of the nearby trees. “Howdy, Hammer Strike. What can I do for ya?”
“Just visiting for old times’ sake. Is … Granny Smith around?”
“Yeah, she’s back at the barn. Probably taking her afternoon nap.”
“Do you believe she’d be upset, if she was woken up?”
“Nah. You know Granny. She’ll just be confused for a moment.”
“Let’s get things going, then. I have a few things I’d like to talk to her about.” Hammer Strike gave a soft smile.
“Sure thing, Sugarcube. Just follow me, and we’ll cut through the orchard.” The orange Pony turned and headed off in said direction. True to her word, Granny Smith was creaking back and forth on her old rocking chair just past the hayloft. Her wrinkled head was bowed as she snoozed peacefully, occasionally smacking her lips in her sleep. The lack of pigtails seemed strange to Hammer Strike as he looked on that wizened face, but he would never forget the fire she’d developed in those eyes. It was a fire he looked forward to seeing again, once she found out the truth.
“Granny Smith?” Hammer Strike called out softly as he drew near. The mare continued to doze. He sighed, giving a few more attempts, each getting louder and louder.
Granny finally sputtered awake, darting her head left and right as she got her bearings. “Wha? I’m … I’m up. I’m up.” Then her eyes fell on the familiar Earth Pony. “Oh, it’s you, Hammer Strike. What brings you round to our neck of the woods?”
He gave a faint chuckle. “Oh, you know, thought I’d visit for old times’ sake, Granny. Or would you prefer Caramel, despite how long it’s been since my last visit?”
Granny’s eyes shot open as she stared hard at Hammer Strike. “Where did you hear that name?” she demanded, suddenly zipping into his face and fixing him with a hard glare, despite her age.
“I know it’s been a while, but after getting my memory sorted so many times, I guess you can say I’m getting closer to my whole self,” he chuckled, rubbing the back of his head. “Come now, Caramel. Don’t you remember the old me? Who couldn’t remember, Golden Oak?”
Granny’s gaze narrowed. “I don’t take kindly to pranks, Hammer Strike, ‘specially not ‘bout an old friend.”
“I’m not kidding, Caramel.” Hammer’s expression grew serious. “I can recount every moment of our time together, all seventeen years I was here. From the time I jumped in to stop the timberwolves from getting you, after you got the zap apples, with nothing more than the lumber axe that Seeder let me use to the time a few strange individuals came by the town, just before my memory came back. Then there’s also the horse shoes that are kinda stuck to my back hooves. Thankfully, they’re still not rose gold.”
Granny’s eye twitched briefly as she processed that information, then eyed the Pony’s flat face and his hooves. Then she was back in his face again. “Smile for me.”
Hammer Strike gave a short chuckle before giving a soft smile for her to judge.
Granny gasped. Her lip wobbled. Then she promptly conked him on the head. “That was for missing my wedding day!” And then she locked her knobby forelegs around his neck as her tears brushed against his fur. “And this is for everything else.”
“I’m sorry to have missed so much,” he said as he returned the hug softly. “I’ve been so busy, it’s hard to get free time. You know how I am.”
“You had ta go through some more of them time travel shenanigans, didn’t ya?”
“Plenty.”
“Ya mind lettin’ me in on what the hay’s happening here?” Applejack asked.
Granny turned to look at her granddaughter with a gentle smile. “Applejack, meet my uncle Golden Oak, also known as Hammer Strike. Just didn’t make the connection till now.” She cackled. “Course, y’know what this means, don’t ya, Hammer Strike?” she asked with a mischievous smirk.
“Uhh. Maybe?”
“Applejack, get Big Mac and Little Willow. We’re gonna have ourselves an Apple Family Reunion dinner. And Golden Oak’s the guest of honor.”
“On it, Granny.” Applejack nodded, before turning and running off.
Big Mac groaned as he leaned back in his chair and nursed his bloated belly. A big tankard of cider lay more than half empty next to the gory remains of the many apple-themed desserts he had eaten with such reckless abandon. Little Willow couldn’t help but giggle and shake her head at her husband’s actions, while Applejack and Applebloom just laughed themselves silly. Rarity nuzzled her husband lovingly as she smiled appreciatively towards Granny Smith and the rest of the family.
“You know, you could have warned him about how easily your body can burn calories,” she noted.
Hammer Strike smiled. “Where’s the fun in that?”
Big Mac let out a groan. “Eeyup.” Then he belched. “S’cuse me.”
Granny cackled gleefully. “I just had a thought. Imagine what Filthy’d think, if he knew who you were. You gave his granddad his start in the first place.”
“I’m good, at least for now.” Hammer Strike shook his head. “Now that I’m thinking about it, what ever happened to that hammer I made, the wooden one?”
“Didn’t ya recognize it?” Granny cackled again as she pointed to a simple rack behind Hammer Strike’s head, where two pegs extended to support the hammer’s head. “We were mighty fond of ya. ‘Course we’d keep a memento close.” Then she winked at him.
“I didn’t notice it,” he replied as he looked over the hammer. “I’m surprised it’s still got life in it….”
The warhammer was decidedly not the kind of thing one would expect to find in a farmhouse. The whole hammer, against all convention, was crafted from a single piece of living wood. The straight haft was as long as Applejack, and ended in a large head. The larger side was carved in the the shape of the bottom of an apple, as though one had been attached to the hammer stem first. The spike on the other end held the oval-like shape of a leaf with bladed sides that were much sharper than they appeared. It had been engraved with a pattern of leaves and trees from the head down to the end of the haft, and the wood appeared to have a golden red finish, despite the fact it had never been stained.
“Wait, y’all are saying Hammer Strike carved old Tree Feller?” Applejack asked.
“With his own hooves,” Granny confirmed. “Best carpenter this side of Equestria.”
“I remember when you used to tell us how Pa would turn timberwolves into driftwood with that,” Apple Bloom said, staring between Hammer Strike and the hammer with no small amount of awe.
“And they’d stay down, too,” Granny said with a smirk.
“It was an interesting project, with my memory in the state it was at the time. I don’t really know what drove me to make a weapon as a gift,” Hammer Strike commented as he turned back towards the table.
“I wonder,” Rarity said as she looked it over. “If it was made out of living wood, and it’s still alive, does that make it a sentient weapon?”
This caused a round of laughter from all corners of the table.
“I’m … afraid I don’t get the joke.”
“Well, Rarity, no offense, but it’s a mite hard to explain it to a Unicorn,” Applejack spoke up. “Living wood is only as smart as the tree it was taken from, but it’s hard to explain how smart a tree is without being able to explain how a tree feels.”
“And an oak tree Hammer Strike lived in, carved, and worked with for over a decade isn’t one he’d be acquainted with enough to know how ‘smart’ it is?”
“It’s not exactly something I would call sapient,” Hammer Strike rubbed the back of his head. “The best way I could explain it is by the concept that I mentioned before, with the channels of life in the tree.”
“Which is something a Unicorn like me wouldn’t be able to understand, because it’s related directly to Earth Pony magic?”
“You really can’t explain how a plant thinks, Rarity. It’s not like how a Pony thinks. It’s just different.”
“Has anypony else tried using it?”
“Nope. Weren’t really a need to, now that Ponyville’s grown so much.”
“So now it’s there more as a reminder?”
Granny nodded. “We still miss Bright Mac, but that there hammer helps us remember some of the happier times, believe it or not.”
“I’m glad it was able to serve a purpose in defending you all,” Hammer Strike commented with a small grin.
“Perhaps it can be used again, if another Changeling attack occurs,” Little Willow offered.
Granny looked carefully at the hammer. “Perhaps,” she allowed. “Perhaps.”
”Nothing like the morning run, huh, Vital?” Grif asked as the two of them finished their exercise with the rest of the troops, then happily chugged down a bottle of water.
“It’s definitely something,” Vital huffed as he gave the Gryphon a half smile. “But at least I managed to finish properly this time. Who knows? A few more weeks, and maybe I’ll make this easily.”
“Yeah. And then you can start on the actual workout,” Grif chuckled. “Seriously, though. As of today, no one’s going to be reminding you to show up. If you show up, you can run with us, but now it will be your choice.”
“Well, I’ll probably have to run it by the wife, once we finally have the ceremony, but I don’t see a problem with it otherwise.” He winked at his friend. “Though I have been meaning to ask, who would be the best teacher for hoof to hoof combat? You guys have taught me how to wield my focus and my magic, but I haven’t really been able to focus much on if I were weaponless.”
“That depends on how far you want to go with it. Hammer Strike’s naturally the best teacher, but he’ll train you to kill with bare hooves, and you’re not ready for that. You could try Zecora. She has a few different techniques she could teach you. Or, if you’re interested in something less dedicated, there are a few troops who could teach you to brawl.”
“Hmm. Guess I’ll have to sort through a couple of those to figure out which is best. Though facing against a brawler doesn’t exactly strike me as something I’d like so much. No pun intended.”
“Well, it’s important to figure these things out. I’d teach you myself, but you lack certain necessary appendages,” Grif said, tapping his talons together for emphasis.
“Granted, if we ever see him again, Conor might like to learn a thing or two from you. You are a mighty accomplished warrior, after all,” Vital pointed out. “Regardless, I’ll make sure to keep you all in the loop for my decision.”
“I’ll help you make the arrangements, when you do,” Grif assured him as he got into position and began a set of what would be two hundred wingups.
“Oh, by the way, Grif, would you do me the honor of being one of my groomsmen?”
“Sure,” Grif smirked as he kept going. “What did Rook say when you asked?”
Vital clamped Grif’s beak with his magic as he quickly shushed him. “I haven’t told him yet,” he whispered anxiously.
Grif reached out without breaking his rhythm and flicked Vital on the horn, breaking his magic hold on his beak. “Don’t do that,” he growled.
“I wasn’t going to hold it that long, you know.” Vital sighed. “Sorry. I just want to tell everyone myself, you know? I’m tense enough as it is planning for something so quick. Trixie wants to have the ceremony as soon as Spring hits.”
“Good. It will give you two some privacy.”
“Honeymoon’s going to be interesting, though, since she’s supposed to lay low for now.”
“There’s this island off the southwestern coast, controlled mainly by a Zebra population. White beaches, private resorts. It’s really beautiful, if you’re interested.”
“Isn’t that where you honeymooned with Shrial?”
Grif nodded.
“I don’t know. Doing a copycat thing just doesn’t quite seem right. I’ll still bring it up with her, though.” He chuckled. “After all, she may love the idea.”
“If you try not to copycat anyone, then you’ll find yourself unable to move at all. Even then, you’d be copying someone. Anyway, it’s a nice place. I’m just offering some advice.”
“I know. That’s why I didn’t just go and dismiss it outright.” Vital shook his head and smiled. “More often than not, your advice tends to be what the doctor ordered.”
“I had a good teacher,” Grif said. His tone had mixed emotions.
“And I’m sure he’s proud of you.” He smirked then. “I know this sounds kinda mean and inappropriate, but you wouldn’t happen to know the best time I could spring the question on Rook, would you?”
“He’ll be in the mess hall in ten minutes. Probably not going to be a better time.”
“Thanks. You want me to record it?”
“No. Just let me know how he reacts,” Grif chuckled.
“So let it be written, so shall it be done,” Vital said in a solemn tone. Then he stuck his tongue out teasingly at his friend and trotted off to lie in ambush.
Grif chuckled and shook his head at his friend’s retreating form, before he switched to vertical regular pushups. This would be fun.
Pensword smiled as he entered his family’s quarters again. “I’m home!” he called, then braced himself for the inevitable onslaught that came moments later as all four of his children pounced him from all sides. He laughed as they drove him to the floor and he rolled back and forth with them as they roughhoused together.
“You found Hammer Strike, then?” Lunar Fang asked as she walked into the room, followed by Fox Feather.
“Yes.” Pensword sighed contentedly as he laid on his back with either foal resting next to him. “Mission accomplished.”
“One more for the weary road, then,” she smiled.
“And who knows how many more to go,” Pensword chuckled as he rose to nuzzle each of his mates in turn.
There was a knock quite suddenly at the door.
“I’ll get it!” three voices chorused at once, and all four foals tripped and sprawled over one another in their quest for dominance. Naturally, Moon River proved victorious as she twisted the knob to reveal Luna flanked by Nightshade. The scarred Thestral looked at the children impassively with his single eye. The boys quickly scrambled to attention and blushed as the princess entered, and Moon River giggled as she straddled across the Alicorn’s back.
“Princess Luna,” Pensword said, “to what do we owe the surprise?”
“Pensword of house Pen, in exactly three weeks and five days at approximately fifteen hundred hours, Princess Luna will be putting forth a motion to the House of Lords for the remilitarization of Equestria. It is slightly later than the initial timeline, but after what just happened here in New Unity, it seems most appropriate. When the motion passes, suitable candidates for commanding the new Equestrian military must be put forth. Given your previous military history and your record, your name has been put forth as a possible candidate for this position. You are therefore ordered to report to the location listed on this scroll tomorrow at twelve hundred hours to begin an evaluation to rate your suitableness.” Nightshade handed the scroll bearing Luna’s seal and a dark blue ribbon.
Pensword nodded. “I’ll be there,” he promised. “Though I am somewhat puzzled. Who else is being called?”
“That's classified at this time,” Nightshade responded.
Pensword nodded. “Was there anything else you needed to tell me, or can we dispense with the formalities and spend some time as friends?”
“Unfortunately, this isn’t a pleasure trip. The princess still has preparations to look after, and I must return to the Lunar Guard. There is still much to look after, since the battle.”
“Of course.” Pensword frowned. “I’ll be by the barracks later, if you need to talk.”
With that, Nightshade and Luna did a perfect about face and left.
Pensword sighed. “In all the excitement of recovering Hammer Strike, I’d forgotten how recently we’d just fought Chrysalis.”
“You’ve had weeks to work it out. The world still has only had days,” Lunar Fang pointed out.
“I know.” He sighed again as he looked disconsolately out the window to the scars the battle had left behind. “And now I’m going to have to prepare for the next round of funerals.”
No matter the circumstances, Hammer Strike had learned one major thing about his trips. His return was always to be met with paperwork. It didn’t matter how short or long the trip. He would return to a desk full of paperwork. This time, he was going over the damage report and a list of important repair requests. He was uncertain about his feeling towards it, primarily due to his mind being out of sorts for a month, leaving him feeling a mixture of rested and strained.
He hummed to himself as he read over the reports, including the report about Trixie. While impressed, he was also quite upset. “It’s nice and all, but why’d you have to do it after I finished the battlemage robes?” he muttered softly to himself as he thought aloud. “Got them complete, and she goes and becomes an Alicorn, changing her body shape and structure….”
As soon as he fell silent, he began hearing the steady clicks of talons against the hallway leading towards his office. Two sets, one medium and one large body structure following a rhythm that he was able to determine as Grif and a larger Gryphon.
“Are you busy?” Grif’s voice spoke up.
“Come in.”
Grif entered, followed closely by Gilgamesh. “How goes the work?” he asked casually.
“It’s.…” Hammer Strike gave a faint shrug. “It’s going. So, mind introducing me to the abnormally large Gryphon?”
“Well, there is a story behind that,” Grif said, closing the door and locking it. “Perhaps it would be best to take measures to make sure we aren't overheard?”
Hammer Strike raised a brow questioningly as his hooves ignited in blue fire. After a moment, the walls gave off a faint ember, the only evidence of his tampering. “There. I’ve solidified the aspects in the wall with minor notes for oxygen. It should keep voices from escaping this room. Now … explain.”
“You remember how the evoker fortress had been sealed by Celestia and Luna with a blood seal only you or I could enter, until one of us broke it?” Grif asked.
“Yes.”
“When we arrived at the fortress and entered, I discovered someone had entered the fortress without breaking the seal. Upon further investigation, I discovered Gilgamesh here had been living there for some time.” Grif pointed to the larger Gryphon. “And we discovered something else.”
Hammer Strike glanced over Gilgamesh, who was steadily shrinking from the look. “What else did you discover?”
“Calm down, big guy,” Grif said in a easy tone as he reached under Gilgamesh and lifted the forlocks of the back hoof that was closest to Hammer Strike.
“Now that is certainly something unique,” Hammer Strike hummed as he rose from his desk and approached to study the Gryphon further. “Not quite a Hippogriff, that much is certain, but certainly different for a Gryphon.”
“One last thing. You should look at him with your special way of looking at things,” Grif said, not sure how much was safe to reveal with a third party in the room.
Hammer Strike nodded as thaumic fire covered his eyes. As he looked over the now startled Gryphon, he was able to notice a concentration of magic lining from the center of his mass towards his talons. He frowned as he moved from his desk. “Could you lift your talons for a second?”
“O-of course, uh, Sir,” Gilgamesh said as he raised his hand for Hammer Strike to inspect.
Hammer Strike hummed to himself as he continued studying the Gryphon’s talons, noting the material was drastically different from Grif’s. After a few moments, he nodded, allowing Gilgamesh to lower his arm as the Earth Pony returned to his desk. “His talons are made of alichorn. That is very, very, interesting. Are you able to cast magic with them?”
“Yes,” Gilgamesh replied. And after a moment of waiting, he realized Hammer Strike was waiting for him to show him. Reaching his hand up, he began concentrating as a small fire appeared in the center of his palm. After some time, he exhaled, letting the fire die out.
Hammer Strike couldn’t help but express some of his curiosity. “A Gryphon with the capability of casting magic without a talisman. You are most likely the first in either a long time, or possibly at all.”
“I figured you’d want to meet him,” Grif nodded. “He’ll be staying with us for the foreseeable future, if that’s okay with you.”
“Admittedly, it doesn’t sit right with me. I’d like to keep him close by. I’m very curious about the nature of his being, and perhaps Clover could assist me in figuring out how this came about in the genepool,” he replied after a moment.
“Would you be all right with staying here, Gilgamesh?” Grif asked him.
“A-as long as I won’t be a bother to a-anyone,” Gilgamesh rubbed at his neck.
“I had a drawing made. He remembers this symbol, but of all the clan symbols we’ve looked at, there doesn’t seem to be a match.” Grif retrieved a piece of paper from his bag and handed it to Hammer Strike. A downward facing sword with wings folded over the hilt stared up at the Pony lord, surrounded in a circle.
Hammer Strike stared at the mark for a full minute, before he gave a faint huff. “Now that, that is something interesting,” he muttered as he pulled out a blank piece of parchment. He then began to draw out a circle, followed by an upward facing sword with wings stretched out from the hilt within it. After he finished, he placed them side by side for the two to look at. “It’s almost like a mockery of my house symbol.”
“Well, yours is about the only thing close to it that I’ve been able to find yet. There are a lot of weird coincidences here. I thought it would be best to bring this to you,” Grif noted.
“I’ll have one of the servants prepare a room for you, Gilgamesh. You are free to roam New Unity, but I will need to do more tests and examine things further. Is that all right?”
Gilgamesh nodded in response.
“I’ll leave you two to it, if that's alright with you. I have things I need to get back to.” Grif bowed his head, before moving for the door.
“Enjoy your day, Grif.”
Gilgamesh waved hesitantly as Grif left.
“Now then, Gilgamesh, let’s get down to business.”
“Hey there, Rook,” Vital smiled in greeting as he approached the black Pony, where he sat in the mess hall. A platter lined with a daisy sandwich and one of the Apples’ famous apple turnovers sat before him, with a large bite already taken out of the sandwich. “How’re you doing today?”
“Okay,” he shrugged. “And you?” Rook asked as he took another bite.
“Same.” Vital smiled as he levitated a glass of water over. “Wedding plans are coming along. Trixie’s really excited.”
“I’m happy for you two. It’s good you finally took that step.”
“Well, I’ve kinda been looking for someone who might be able to take that step with me.” Vital put an artful frown on his face. “It’s tough with so many amazing and supportive Ponies around, though.”
“Quite the conundrum,” Rook said, taking another bite.
“So I was thinking I could use a best stallion to help me out. And I figured, who better than my friend and mentor in the Rohirrim? In short, Black Rook, would you be best stallion at my wedding?”
Rook nearly choked on his sandwich. “Me?” he sputtered.
“I’m not talking to anypony else, am I?” Vital asked with a hint of a smirk as he took another drink. “So, will you do it?”
“Sure. I just ... I didn’t expect you’d ask me.”
“Really? For shame, Rook. What’s one of the first rules of combat you and Grif taught me?”
Rook gave a dry chuckle. “Expect the unexpected. But I’d have expected you’d have asked Grif or Hammer Strike or somebody else.”
“Hammer Strike is going to perform the ceremony, and let’s face it, we both know Grif will need the freedom to book a certain slick singer to join the celebration at the reception.”
“I’m honored,” Rook said.
“Good.” Vital smiled as his horn began to glow. “Sorry for this in advance.” He whipped the tray out just in the nick of time to block a massive cake wad somepony had dropped from the rafters.
“Guess you’ve been around Grif long enough to see that coming,” Rook laughed.
“It certainly helped,” Vital Spark agreed. “I think I may need to research a karma spell after this. Better to be safe than sorry.”
“Pretty sure karma doesn’t punish all but the most cruel pranks,” Rook said.
“True, but it does help one to avoid the minor ones, if one has the good kind on their side.”
Rook nodded. “Is there anything specific about this I should know?”
“And by this, do you mean the wedding, responsibilities as best stallion, or the fact I’m dealing with the threat of pranks around most corners as a means to help boost morale?”
“The former.”
“We plan to have it at winter’s end. As for what else, Trixie and I are still deciding. We’ll let you know, once we have further details in place.”
“You got it.”
“Thanks, Rook.” Vital tossed a few bits on the table. “Have another lunch on me.” Then he hurried hastily out the hall. He had a lot of work to do, and a retreat to beat.
Extended Holiday Ch 138: Working Hard or Hardly Working Act 22
Hammer Strike sighed contently as he placed the last stack of papers into the outgoing bin. After working on nothing but paperwork for the entire night, he was finally done. Now his focus could be placed towards either working on equipment in the forge, creating a new design for Trixie’s battlemage set, or even working on some of his own projects.
His plans would, of course, have to wait, however, as he soon heard the faint click of hooves moving in his direction. The weight was average in nature, but the movement was a mixture of confident stride, followed by an uncertain shuffle. The hint of a murmur clinched it for him. It was definitely Vital Spark. As for why the Unicorn was on his way to his office, he didn’t know.
“Come in, Vital.”
“Okay, one of these days, you are definitely going to have to teach me how to do that.” Vital Spark strode into the office and promptly sat down in a spare chair.
“It’s just observing patterns in the movement of individuals, followed by gauging the weight and species,” Hammer Strike somewhat explained. “Since, you know, hooves sound different from talons.” He shook his head slightly. “So, what brings you here, Vital?”
“Well, as you know, I’m kind of getting married in a few months.”
“In a way. Kinda had to listen in on some minor conversations, followed by your interactions with Trixie to fully figure it out,” Hammer Strike hummed aloud. “Now that I think about it, nobody really told me.” He gave a false stern look to Vital. “What gives? You weren’t going to tell your own friend?”
Vital Spark promptly facehoofed. “Of all the times for me to forget to do something….” he muttered to himself. “Okay, so that makes this two things I need to talk with you about, then. So, most immediate thing first, Trixie and I are engaged. It happened shortly after she cut off Chrysalis’ head using a magical scythe construct, when she quite literally swept me off my hooves and asked. Since we’re trying to keep her ascension on the downlow, and don’t really want to make a huge deal out of the wedding itself, we were hoping we might be able to have it here in New Unity. And … we were hoping you’d do us the honor of officiating.”
Hammer Strike rubbed the back of his neck. “That’s right. That is something I can technically do,” he muttered. “Uh, sure. I’ll look into everything on that.”
Vital Spark smiled. “Thanks. We really appreciate it. You kind of did play a pretty big role in both of our lives. Then again, you play a big role in practically every creature’s life in Equestria, now that I think about it.”
“Don’t remind me,” Hammer Strike rubbed at his neck again. “It’s already odd enough that Celestia and Luna are pretty much my adopted daughters. To add on the fact that I’m known around the world is … yeah.”
“Pretty heavy, yeah. I honestly can’t even begin to imagine how it must feel for you. Honestly, I’m surprised you’re able to handle yourself so well, under the circumstances. No offense meant. I just mean, well … like you said, … yeah….” he finished lamely.
“Doesn’t help I basically just came back from a normal life again,” he muttered. “I feel ... different, emotionally. Over the course of time, I slowly went from my normal life as a carpenter into the stallion I am now. But this? This was me going from what I felt was a normal life headfirst into this again.”
“And you wish you had that normal life back?”
After a moment, Hammer Strike sighed. “No. I’m alright with where I am now. I just have to readjust to things again.”
“So you’re okay, but you just sort of miss it?”
“I miss things being simple,” he explained. “Think about it from a human standpoint. I’m going on somewhere in the ninety to hundred mark. By our standards, I’m old.”
“And yet, you’re still young physically,” Vital nodded. “Yeah, I can see where you’re coming from. I’m just sorry I can’t help you there.”
“Eh, that’s life. Or rather, here, at least, it is,” Hammer Strike chuckled.
“Well, that kind of brings me to my second point for coming to see you. I know I’m helping out here around the castle, and I’m getting a stipend as Clover’s apprentice, too, but those things aren’t exactly going to last forever. And I’m going to be building up a real family of my own soon. I’m going to need to find some real work. Thing is, I don’t exactly know what kind of work would really work best. I was wondering if you might have some ideas.”
Hammer Strike hummed for a moment. “Whilst you are training as a battle mage, I leave it up to you whether you’d prefer that career choice. As for things more suited for you, there are potentially a few roles you could fill. The castle we are in has a library that isn’t being fully maintained, apart from cleaning by the servants. Then there’s the position of quartermaster for the guard. While they are keeping things in order, and requests are being placed correctly, I believe it would be best to have someone to deal with these things as a separate individual. Lastly, I have a position open under myself, as I’ve been needing an assistant to help me with minor tasks that require my attention, when I may be busy at the time.”
“Like what, exactly?”
“Basically, say I’m working on paperwork here in my office, but I need to go direct some orders or go collect something from the barracks or library. Rather than dividing my time to go do that, I would tell you to go collect said stuff, or give said orders on my behalf.”
“And I’m assuming each of these jobs would require pretty much 24/7 or on call hours?”
“Not really. All three would have a set amount of hours you work.”
“Is it okay if I take some time to think about them, maybe talk them over with Trixie, too?”
“That’s perfectly fine. I can hold the positions open for you, until you decide.”
“Thanks. I’d probably have to discuss with Clover, too, anyways. She is my master right now, after all, so she sets most of my schedule.”
“That’s fair,” Hammer Strike replied with a shrug. “Was there anything else you wished to discuss?”
“Yeah.” Vital pointed at the Unicorn and Pegasus quietly sorting the paperwork into envelopes. “Who’re they?” One wore a set of headphones around her neck, while the other wore a dress shirt that looked uncannily close to one of Hammer Strike’s own.
“Silent Collector and Oracle. They help me deal with my paperwork, so I have a little more free time than I used to.”
“Hey, weren’t you the one that saw through that Changeling infiltrator’s disguise during the raid?”
Silent Collector glanced up to Vital for a moment, before returning to his work. For some reason, no matter what action he took, his black mane always seemed to maintain the same style. “That would be correct, yes.”
Vital Spark smiled. “I never got the chance to thank you. You really helped Clover out, from what she told me.” He chuckled. “So, uh, thanks, I guess. It’s nice to meet you formally.”
“It was just some medication to restore energy. It was no problem.”
“Thank you, all the same.” Vital nodded. “That being said, I guess I should be going now. You guys still have work to do, and I still have studying to do and spells to practice.” He gave the trio a quick salute as he rose from his chair. “See you guys later.”
Silent Collector and Hammer Strike gave a faint wave in response.
“The train arrived in Ponyville just over forty five minutes ago. Forward sentries said they just entered the city’s perimeter. Now how about we greet these boys properly?” Grif chuckled as he looked down at the courtyard of New Unity, which was now the acting parade ground. All three branches of the New Unity guard stood at attention in their separate columns. Grif checked with each of the commanding officers that were present, before nodding to Vital Spark. “Mark ‘em.”
Vital Spark nodded as he levitated one of several clipboards floating in his magic closer, then used a pen to check off a series of boxes. “Who next?”
Grif approached Polished Brass. “I trust the house servants are present?”
“Present and accounted for, master Grif,” Polished Brass nodded.
This went on for the next few minutes as Grif checked over the smiths, the workers, the mercenaries, the Saddle Arabians, and even the base representatives for his own Bladefeathers. Soon it was apparent the bulk of House Strike was present and prepared to welcome the new arrivals.
Naturally, having had yet another battle, New Unity had dealt with a major population loss recently. In keeping with crown policy, Canterlot had notified them they were sending over some seasoned guards to help with refilling their losses, as well as aiding in the protection of new Unity’s borders. They were also in keeping with the arrangement Celestia had made with their human counterparts, sending a squad of washouts who the Canterlot nobility had labeled not worth the time for re-training; several new apprentice smiths to help with the fortress’ ever growing need for metalworking; and a small selection of younger Ponies who were not yet of age to join the proper guard, but had earned the right in the junior guard to work study at an operational fort.
Grif turned and Vital followed him as they approached Hammer Strike. Grif gave a small formal nod of his head. “As requested, every necessary member of the house and the militia are present to receive our new guests.” Grif seized one of the clipboards from Vital’s magic and handed it to his lord.
“Nothing like formal events that need to be done, hmm?” Hammer Strike asked as he looked over the clipboard.
“At least it’s not something we have to do every time someone comes here,” Grif chuckled as the group turned for the gate.
“I’d lose my mind, if that were the case,” he sighed. “Once in awhile is just fine.”
They saw the group in the distance as they reached the gate. Grif squinted a little as the light reflected off their armor. “Geeze! Didn’t spare any polish, did they?”
“They are coming from Canterlot,” Hammer Strike pointed out.
“Still an obvious design flaw.”
“I don’t know. Blinding your enemies is a pretty clever tactic,” Vital pointed out.
“To a degree, but it’s also a weakness in a lot of cases.”
“Like blinding yourself, too?”
“That and you broadcast your location to everyone in front of you. And if they happen to have people behind you, yeah, you’re in trouble.”
“Touché. Though I do think I may have to see about experimenting with that principal a bit. After all, ice can be a very good magnifier, if it’s crafted the right way,” Vital mused.
The group finally made their way to the gate. A larger Earth Pony stallion walked at the front of the group, flanked by two Pegasi. All three were identical shades of white, due to their enchanted armor; however, the lead stallion was easily a head taller than his Pegasus followers. On the trio’s far side was an Earth Pony mare dressed in a pink dress with a white smock over it. She had a light yellow coat with a bright pink mane and carried a modified saddlebag with several blacksmithing tools hanging off of it. The four walked up to Hammer Strike, bowing slightly just in front of him.
“Lord Hammer Strike of New Unity?” the leader asked in a deep bass.
“Correct,” Hammer Strike confirmed with a nod.
The stallion proceeded to remove his helmet, dispelling the illusion to reveal dark chocolate brown fur. A sharp black goatee jutted out from his chin, and, surprisingly enough, he didn’t appear to show any sign of a mane. His hazel eyes showed the hardness of experience as he puffed out his chest and saluted. “We’re here from Canterlot, as assigned, to assist in whatever capacity you may see fit, Sir. I am Lieutenant Mountain Agil Ale, and this is Sergeant Klein Fuse.”
Klein nodded towards Hammer Strike as he removed his helmet to reveal a flaming headband wrapped around his forehead. His eyes blazed a fiery orange as he smiled and saluted with a red wing. His orange mane jutted back somewhat messily as bits and pieces fell over the front of the headband at various angles.
“And this here is Stormwall Breaker. If you’re looking for a skilled tactician, there’s nobody better qualified.”
The second Pegasus removed its helmet to reveal a short dark brown bowl cut mane over a pale cream coat. A long black scarf wrapped around her neck and trailed behind her in the wind as she stared at Hammer Strike with hard reddish-brown eyes, not unlike clay. Her tail had been neatly braided behind her to suit the stern rigidity she exuded. She gave a curt nod, not even bothering to speak, or perhaps not daring to. It wasn’t exactly certain.
“And lastly, this is Dross Caster, a promising young smith.”
The pink-maned Pony bowed briefly, then smiled as her eyes glowed with determination. “I’m ready to get to work, Sir.”
Hammer Strike glanced over the four, before giving a nod. “Allow me to welcome you to New Unity. I will be here for some of the tour, and will see you all at the end in order to properly assign you to your new posts. I will also be there to assist with taking measurements for you and you fellow guard members to get a fitting for your new armor. To my left is Grif. His orders lie just under the captains of the guard here, in regards to priority. Tower and Blast Shield are said captains, and as I implied previously, you will be taking orders from them. Dross, we will direct you to the forge sometime during this.”
Dross couldn't help but let out a small squeal of excitement. “I can’t wait to see it!”
“We’ll get everyone sorted, then. Is there anywhere specifically you want us to put them?” Agil asked.
“Within the secondary walls, just outside of the main gate, there are two large buildings to the left and right. Those are the barracks that you will be stationed at, until otherwise instructed.”
“Very well.” Agil turned to the remaining Ponies behind him and gave a sharp whistle. The majority broke away and began to walk into the fortress towards the indicated location. Grif chuckled to himself as he noticed no small amount of intimidation as they looked over the assembled guard.
“Quite the selection, it seems,” Hammer Strike commented to Grif. “I’m sure Tower and Blast will have some interesting moments with some of them.”
“Interesting fun or interesting exasperating?” Vital asked.
“I think a little of both,” Grif chuckled. “Between the veterans who are so used to the training in Canterlot and the rookies who need to learn everything as it is, this should be a real show.”
“And we all get front row seats. Should I make popcorn?” Vital winked playfully at his friend.
“Don’t forget the lawn chairs,” Grif chuckled.
“Dross, you and the others are to follow us,” Hammer Strike directed to the smiths of New Unity. “As I said, we will lead you to where you will be working, and show you where you’ll be able to find me nine out of ten times.”
Dross nodded excitedly, a grin spread wide across her face. “I’m ready whenever you are.”
Silver Spear paced nervously back and forth in the cavernous halls of the New Unity Changeling hive. With every turn, his body flared with blue fire, revealing the thick chiton, mandible, and other Changeling anatomy he’d developed or his other form, with a proper full copper coat and stormy blue eyes. His blond mane writhed with his nerves as he tossed his head back and forth.
“Relax, Silver Spear. You’re going to wear a hole in the floor at this rate.”
The stallion turned to face a familiar bulky drone and sighed. “Sorry, Mutatio. It’s just … visiting with my father again, after all this time, it’s making me nervous.”
“You’ve prepared yourself for this, Silver Spear. You can transition back and forth without difficulty, and you have one of the best poker faces this side of New Unity. Your father loves you. Let him, and then tell him what you want after. You belong to Hammer Strike’s guard now, after all. No one can send you anywhere else without his express permission.”
“That … might actually make it worse for him. Father can be exceptionally stubborn about things.”
“So I’ve gathered,” Mutatio smirked. “A trait you inherited.”
“... Touché.”
Mutatio laid a hole-riddled hoof around Silver’s neck. “It will be fine. Now get going. Me-Me doesn’t want you to be late.”
Silver spear sighed heavily as he shifted back to his Equestrian disguise again. “Wish me luck?”
“You won’t need it.”
The courtyard was surprisingly clear as Silver passed through the castle gates. A familiar figure stood waiting next to Pensword. He wore a rich green doublet with golden accents that matched his mane. Poofy white frills jutted out along the cuffs of the suit coat as he spoke anxiously with the former commander.
“Where is he? You said he would be here by now, Pensword.” Sharp Spear snorted anxiously as he scuffed at the ground with his forehoof.
“I told you he would be here in his own due time, Baron. You can’t rush these things.” Pensword smiled gently. “Though it seems there’s no more need to rush, if you’d just turn around.”
Baron Sharp Spear whipped his head around at a speed that could almost rival Grif’s as his eyes went wide and his mouth dropped open. A dry sort of wheeze escaped his throat as he looked on his son, and tears stood in his eyes.
Silver Spear took a deep breath, swallowed once, then spoke in a somewhat raspy voice, even as he averted his eyes and blushed. “H-hello, Father.”
The momentum from the noble’s sudden lunging gallop nearly bowled the guard over. “Don’t you ever scare me like that again.”
Silver Spear’s returning embrace was cautious, almost as though he expected to be burned. When his father didn’t shrug it off, however, he gradually settled into the hug, until it felt more natural. “I told you, Father. I found a cause I want to serve. This is where my cutie mark led me. I have close friends here, a sort of second family.”
“And what about us? What about your real family?” Sharp Spear backed up to stare at his son with beseeching emerald eyes. “Come home, Son, at least for a time. Your mother and sister have been worried sick.”
“Father, I don’t know if I can yet.”
“Nonsense. You’re perfectly well, and surely the generous Lord Hammer Strike can spare you for a couple of weeks’ vacation, after such heroic service.”
“It’s not that simple, Father.”
“Of course it is. You’ve been serving faithfully before New Unity was even reclaimed. Two years of faithful service, at least! I’m happy to have you show me the grounds and other parts I’m allowed clearance for, and I’ve even gone so far as to make peace with the fact that you wish to stay here, but I really must put my hoof down on this point. Stella misses you, you know. We all have.”
Silver Spear averted his gaze. “I still don’t know if I’m ready yet. The procedure that was used to help me heal had some side effects that I’m still learning to cope with.” He raised his head to look his father in the eye once more. “I would love to see you all again. I mean it. I’ve changed so much from the young colt who came here a couple of years ago. I know I’ve become somepony you can be proud of. I just … want to make sure I have the full approval of the physicians who helped me, before I go. Can I trust you to trust their judgement?”
Sharp Spear stiffened. He took a deep breath, clenched his teeth, closed his eyes, then swallowed, before releasing the tension in his body with an explosive exhalation. “It … chafes me to hear you going against my will.” He let out a rueful chuckle as he raised a hoof to brush against his son’s chin. “But I suppose you’re right. You’ve grown up. And one day, assuming this … guard position doesn’t kill you, you will take over the rule of our house in my stead. It’s funny, really. I still see the colt I sent off, looking to bring glory to our name. Now I see a stallion who holds his ground, despite the pain it may cause.” He smiled then as his hoof dropped. “You will make a great baron one day, my son. I just have one thing to ask.”
“What is it, Father?”
“That if you can’t return home to visit, you get permission for us to come visit you here. I meant what I said before. Your mother and sister miss you. Let’s see what we can do to alleviate that, for their sake, and perhaps a little for mine,” he said with a chuckle. “You know how your mother can get when she doesn’t get what she wants.”
Silver Spear laughed. “Headaches all around.”
“You should hear Stella sometime. I swear, she’ll surpass your mother soon. That mare sings like an angel, but she wails like a banshee.”
“And her smile lights up the sky,” Silver said wistfully. Then he nodded as he walked over and laid a hoof around his father’s shoulder. “Come on. Let’s see if we can’t get an audience with Hammer Strike and my physicians. I can talk about some of the more recent developments here, and introduce you to some of the other Ponies in my unit, while we wait.”
Baron Sharp Spear laid his neck gently against his son’s for a brief moment, then smiled. “I do believe I’d like that.”
Pensword wiped a tear from his eye with a deft swipe of his wing as he watched father and son leave together. “I’m not crying, Moon Burn” he muttered. “It’s just liquid pride.” He sniffled. “Just liquid pride.”
Vital Spark smiled as he knocked on Clover’s door, before quickly passing through into the main study. “Vital Spark checking back in and reporting for duty, ma’am,” he said in his usual chipper voice as he smiled and saluted playfully.
“So, how was your trip?” Clover asked. She was currently mixing chemicals at one of her work tables.
Vital raised a quizzical eyebrow as he drew near. “Do you really want me to tell you, or are you just trying to be considerate of potential exuberance on my part from the experience? Because I’m pretty sure you already knew when we were going and how the events would end.”
“Maybe, but it’s not my place to get involved,” she said as though it was the simplest thing in the world. “Besides, there are bigger matters afoot in New Unity.”
“Such as?”
“Such as,” Clover turned and walked over to him. “Such as!” She approached almost uncomfortably close. “Told ya so.”
“... Nani?”
“I predicted Trixie was close to ascending. I predicted an ascension,” Clover laughed. “Star Swirl was wrong! Such things do follow a regulated course of events.”
“A course you hope to be able to eventually track properly to assist those who are going to ascend?”
“And to understand how the process works. The Alicorns were a separate species. Why can Ponies spontaneously become them? They’re not even true Ponies. They’re more closely related to horses than to us.”
“Hmm. Perhaps a divine push? If Alicorns were on this world in the beginning, maybe they need to remain to keep a proper balance in Equis’ overall magical field. Faust wouldn’t want her creation to go to waste, right?”
“Then why does she make the population unsustainable?”
“How so?”
“Name all the Alicorns you know.”
“Celestia, Luna, Twilight, Cadence, Trixie, and Faust herself.”
“Faust takes the form of an alicorn, but a goddess isn’t bound by form, like we are,” Clover corrected. “Still, that’s five females. Even with Pony genetics being what they are, there still needs to be some trace bloodline in the family to birth a member of any tribe. Further, only one of the Alicorns is currently mated and possibly attempting to breed. I at least assume you and Trixie are planning to take things slow for the first year or so?”
“Clover, you know me. Do I strike you as the kind of stallion to take things fast?”
“So then, precisely my point. There is currently a zero point zero two percent chance of princess Cadence spawning another Alicorn.”
“And this is based on what form a data? Also, have you considered that the Alicorn trait may be a dominant allele? The possibility is there.”
“Celestia and Luna have had numerous dalliances in their lives and produced several children each. None of them were Alicorns. Based on that data, I have to assume that the Alicorn gene is recessive, possibly extremely so.”
“That does seem to make sense,” Vital agreed. “Of course, that could prove a blessing in disguise. Alicorns have a very long lifespan. To have an overly large population could pose some rather difficult problems over time.”
“Still, I feel the data puts a divine aspect off the possibilities list for now.”
“So you do still have that as a theory.” Vital smirked. “I can’t wait to see who turns out to be right. It’ll probably be you, but it’ll be fun to find out.” Then he looked over the vials. “By the way, what’re you working on over here? Still trying to nail that reverse alchemical process?”
“Trying to formulate the recipe for hayburgers’ secret sauce,” Clover shrugged.
“Balsamic vinegar, sugar, tomato paste, worcester sauce, and just a hint of paprika.”
“How did you know that?”
“Clover, if we ever get to bring you back to Earth, remind me to take you to Texas. They live for barbecue down there. And I happen to love all kinds of dipping sauces and rubs. You learn to tell the difference in ingredients, after a while.”
Clover cleared her throat. “Yes. Well, anyway, did you manage to finish your homework while in the past?”
“Does getting in touch with my darker side count?”
“Oh? Good. I was wondering when you’d get past that hurdle,” Clover nodded.
“More like a work in progress, but it’s a little better than it used to be.”
“Well, I hope you manage to make peace with it soon. That’s a lot of power to be holding back.”
“You knew?”
“Many Unicorns and/or good people start repressing their worser natures at some point in their life.”
“I’m guessing you didn’t have that luxury.”
“My parents were dark magic users. I was raised by Star Swirl the Bearded in an era of all out war. Innocence was a luxury.”
“Hence, ‘you didn’t have the luxury,’” Vital pointed out. “Still, I guess I should check if I can’t practice with you and Trixie when I try to access that part of my magic. You two are probably some of the few who can handle it, if I lose control. Well, you two and Hammer Strike.”
“Yes, but for now, I think we need to work on improving your casting time and working on prepared spells.”
“Ooh.” Vital grinned, baring his teeth. “Let’s get started, then.”
“You’re familiar with prepared spells? From what I understand, the practice isn’t as common anymore.”
“I’m familiar with the principal. You essentially store the magic in a vessel to utilize it at a later point in time. The vessel could be the mind, a gem, a talisman, anything really, so long as it’s capable of binding and holding the spell in place, until you need to use it, right?”
Clover nodded. “Eliminating casting time and allowing for emergency use. Basic examples include shields or flashes of light, but if you get good enough, then you can even store a teleport.”
“You mean like some kind of teleport crystal?”
“Yes, though a crystal would be a waste of time and energy for little advantage. Best to use a scroll.”
“And which material are we talking when it comes to making said scrolls?”
“It’s mostly just a scroll large enough to store the spell. You transcribe the spell using mana.”
“So it’s like replicating the spell, only you use solid mana to embed it into the material without destroying or damaging it.”
Clover nodded. “Then you roll the scroll and seal it shut, and just make sure you don’t open it, until you need it.”
“Neat!”
“I think it’s best you learn as much in this field as you can. If you find yourself in a situation like you were in during the last attack, it may help you.”
“Last attack?”
“With Chrysalis?”
“Okay, just clarifying. I kinda had to deal with a lot of other attacks when we were in the past.”
“So let's start with a simple ice shard spell. You’re familiar with the theory. Do you think you can sum it up into enough words to fill this?” She placed a scroll on one of the tables
“Enough or few enough?” Vital asked.
“Few enough,” Clover clarified.
“Yeah, I can take care of that no problem.”
“Then sum it up in your head and push that through your horn into the scroll.”
Vital focused his magic into the tip of his horn and let out a concentrated burst limited to a tiny scope to form a sort of miniature laser beam. And then he proceeded to direct the beam into the scroll, going one letter at a time, until a single word spread across the scroll in English. “You can read English, right?” he asked.
“I won’t be reading it,” Clover said. “The next time you open that scroll, you’d better be pointing it at a target.”
“Spring loaded?”
“That’s a decent explanation for it.”
“Okay, then. I’ll make sure to keep that in mind.”
Grif smiled as he tickled Cú Chulainngently on the stomach. “Man he’s really becoming a little chunk, isn’t he?” he asked Cheshire. Grif had been making his rounds through the compound, when he’d encountered the mother with her cub on her back in the market.
“Just give him a year or two. That chunk is going to be a force to be reckoned with by the end,” she said with a smirk. “And maybe he’ll be able to give little Moon River a run for her money. Somebody has to keep that little rascal on her toes, and I’m too busy sometimes.”
“Has everything been okay?” Grif asked. “No one’s giving you trouble?”
“Oh, Grif,” Cheshire chuckled, “why would anyone want to risk causing trouble with a trickster like me?”
“I just wanted to make sure,” Grif chuckled as he tossed the cub into the air and caught him.
“You worry too much. Are you sure you weren’t prompted to keep me with you because you needed the crazy?”
“Hey, I worry about everyone. Kinda my job, since you all were crazy enough to follow me.”
“Didn’t you know, Grif? Crazy is my specialty.” And then Cheshire bore her teeth in that unsettling grin of hers, and Cú Chulainn giggled as he clapped his talons together with glee at the sight.
“He’s definitely your son,” Grif chuckled as he set the cub on his mother's back.
“He’ll be the best fool for miles. After all, nobody suspects the fool.” Her grin widened. “Until it’s too late.”
“Well even the fool doesn’t know what the fool can do, right?” Grif winked at her.
“Exactly.” She looked over at her cub and preened his feathers gently. “He will be everything his father ever was, and so much more.”
“I look forward to the day.”
“Are you a seer now, too, Grif? My, so many mantles to wear,” she teased.
“Maybe I just have a lot of faith?”
“Perhaps. Perhaps.” Cheshire nodded as she prepared to pass. “By the way, you should join us for dinner some time. It’s the least we can do for your taking me in. We’ll make a real party out of it.”
“That sounds fun.” Grif smiled. “I think everybody could use the chance to unwind.”
“Careful what you say, Grif. You might just give me an idea.”
“I don’t need to give them to you. You tend to take them, anyway.”
“Ah, but it’s so much better when it’s a gift, wouldn’t you say?”
“Something given is always stronger than something taken.”
“Exactly.” She raised her hand and waved her talons. “Tata, Grif. I’ve a tea party to plan. You can expect your invitations within the week.” She tapped her beak thoughtfully, then grinned wickedly. “I think I’ll see if Pinkie Pie wants to get involved, too.”
“Be safe, Chesh,” Grif chuckled, before turning back to finish his rounds.
“Now where’s the fun in that?” Cheshire asked as she slipped back into the crowd and disappeared.
“All right, ye wee lads and lasses, git yourselves organized and shut yer traps, while we get you figured out,” Steel Weaver shouted to the group of apprentices that had arrived. Storm Hammer stood beside him. The Unicorn mare looked surprisingly intimidating as she twirled her forge hammer in her magic. Wrought Iron stood not far away with an unreadable expression.
A squee of unspeakable delight escaped a certain pink-dressed mare as her hooves clomped nervously in her excitement. Dross took in the flames, the work tables, the tools, the coal, and her eyes shone with an inner fire as she struggled not to let her smile break into a freakish grin. The other apprentices were busy murmuring to themselves or wondering over the overall layout of the workshop. Some eyed sketches lustily, while others were drawn to the barrels and bins full of raw materials just waiting to be crafted into something new.
“Settle down, lass,” Steel Weaver growled. “Now, with a show of hooves, how many of you have actual experience working metal and not simply working around the forge?” he asked.
Dross’ hoof shot into the air, along with about half the other candidates.
“How many of you can make simple workers’ tools and nails?”
This time, about a third of the Ponies raised their hooves.
“How many of you have worked at repairing weapons?”
One quarter of the crowd raised their hooves, and Dross practically vibrated with her excitement.
“Shields and/or armor?”
This time, only about ten Ponies raised their hooves.
“Okay. And finally, have any of you actually been taught to make weapons, armor, or shields as of yet?”
Dross practically jerked herself into the air with the force of her hoof flying in answer. A hasty examination soon revealed she was the only one.
“You have an example of your work, lass?” Steel Weaver asked, waving her forward.
Dross beamed as she dove her head into her saddlebag and jerked back to reveal a long metal shaft connected to a large four-bladed head with a spike jutting out at the top. The edges had been cleaned and polished to a shine, and the grip of the weapon had been lovingly tied up with advanced leatherwork. Its pommel was a simple white stone that complimented the pale rose of the binding on the grip.
Steel weaver reached out and let her drop the weapon into his hoof. He examined it thoroughly, tracing a hoof across the shaft to see the texture, then laying an eye on the handle and examining the straightness. He even leaned in and tasted the metal at one point. “How old are ye, lass? You couldn’t be apprenticed more than three years yet.”
“Twenty two last Tuesday, Sir.” She saluted the steel-coated stallion with an eager smile as she waited with bated breath.
Steel weaver handed the weapon off to Storm Hammer, who took her turn examining it with cool silver eyes that seemed to glow against her black mane. She was careful to keep her face perfectly impassive as she looked the weapon over from top to bottom. Then she handed it to Wrought Iron, who took his turn looking the weapon over. When he handed it back to Steel Weaver, the stallion signaled to one of New Unity’s small supply of pre-existing apprentices. A coconut and a steel helmet were produced and set on a nearby workbench. Steel Weaver casually walked over to it, and then fell upon it with an almost visceral savagery, raining down several blows so hard that the forge rang like it was in full use. The result was two or three minor bends on the blades of the mace and a fair-sized dent in the helmet. A small trickle of coconut water could be seen trickling down the shell.
Steel Weaver handed her the mildly battered weapon. “Shaft’s a bit on the long side. Throws off the aim.”
“The blades’ shape made them somewhat hard to use to their full potential. Also, the wrapping on the handle needed to be tied tighter,” Storm Hammer added.
“The steel was poor quality, and not made for battle ready weapons,” Wrought Iron added his own two bits. The three looked at her to gauge her reaction.
“It was a custom job for myself,” she admitted as her perkiness deflated under the blunt criticism. “I didn’t have access to the best materials, so I had to make do with what my budget allowed.”
Steel Weaver nodded. “Go stand by the door, Lass,” he instructed, before turning to the others. “The apprentices are going to be going around with clipboards. You lot will each put down your current experience and where your teachers left off. You will also give the name of said teacher for us to refer to. If ye lie, yeh’ll start at the beginning again. We have lives depending on us, and we aren't going to abide any line cutting. Is that understood?” His eyes seemed almost to burn as he glared each of the Ponies down, and the extra mass served as another means of intimidation to keep the candidates honest.
Steel Weaver made his way to his two companions, and they huddled together, talking in quiet whispers. A few got mildly aggressive, but still, somehow, no words broke through as the three continued there debate. Finally, it seemed to be settled, and Steel Weaver made his way to Dross, opening the door and signaling for her to go through, before he followed her out and closed the door. “This is no place for the likes of you, Lass,” he told her as he headed down the hall.
Dross nearly collapsed then and there. As it was, Steel Weaver heard the unmistakable sound of her hooves tripping up as the mare staggered forward. “But … but I can learn! I have the experience. I wasn’t joking about that,” she protested pleadingly. “If you don’t want me in weapons, I understand, but please don’t send me away!” Tears stood in her eyes as she struggled to keep them from falling. “This … this is my dream….”
“Lass, as of now, we have over seventy five apprentices working in that forge. They give us their labour in hopes we’ll give them the knowledge and the experience to become proper blacksmiths. None of us have time to be chasing after a ‘special snowflake.’” Steel Weaver led her through several hallways and down a spiral staircase followed by a regular staircase to a large imposing door. He lifted one of his massive hooves and knocked heavily.
“Come in,” a deep voice called out from within.
Steel weaver opened the door with a surprising amount of strain for the large stallion and a blast of heat hit the both of them like a wall. Steel Weaver entered and waved for her to follow. When she walked through the door, he pulled it closed. “Take it in, Lass. Not many Ponies get to see the inside of Hammer Strike’s forge.”
Dross’ eyes widened as she gaped at the stallion. “W-what?” she stuttered, even as she began to tremble.
Steel Weaver put a hoof out for her mace once more. When her trembling hoof finally gave it to him, he grabbed the handle in his mouth and entered into the forge proper. “Sorry to bother you, Strike, but i’m having a bit of trouble with one of the apprentices. I think you should see this.”
Hammer Strike turned from his current project to take hold of the mace. After a few moments of examining it, he looked questioningly at Steel Weaver, then to Dross.
“Twenty two. Can't be farther than her third year in. That's not battle worthy steel, but by Sleipnir's tits, I’ll swear that it survived the coconut test, and I wailed on it,” Steel Weaver explained. “She’s leagues ahead of her fellows, but nowhere near ready to be on her own yet. We can’t give her the attention she’ll need, not with several dozens of others who need our help.”
Dross gaped with bloodshot eyes as her head darted between the two smiths. Was this actually happening? She bit her foreleg gently, just to make sure. When she winced at the pain, she knew she wasn’t dreaming, and promptly returned to the previous gaping.
Hammer Strike turned back towards the mace as he hummed aloud. “Ex Divinia etiam,” he muttered softly. “It’s been years since I’ve taken on an apprentice, Steel Weaver. By most standards, it’s been nearly a thousand years.”
“Well, with all due respect, Strike, we’ve all noted your relationship with the little crystal princess. It seems like an apprentice may be in your future anyway. It may be best to allow yourself time to re-adjust to the experience.” Steel Weaver sighed. “Either that or I’ll need your permission to send her back to Canterlot. I can’t let her talent be wasted here.”
Hammer Strike glanced towards the pink-maned mare one last time, before giving a soft sigh. “Dross Caster, do you understand this situation you have found yourself in, including what level of expectation I will have for you?”
“U-um … no, Sir, but … I-I’m a fast learner,” she promised as she stepped forward. “That is, … if you’ll have me.”
Hammer Strike chewed on the inside of his cheek for a moment, before he held up the mace once more. His other hoof burst with thaumic fire as he went across the weapon, removing all signs of damage from it, before flipping it in his grip and holding it out for the mare to take. “If you are able to handle my teachings, I will allow you to stay.”
Dross took the mace reverently, then placed it back into her saddlebags. Then she bowed deeply. “I’m at your disposal.”
“Well, if you two will forgive me, I have a few dozen new apprentices to put through their paces. It’s going to be a late night tonight. Try not to break her on the first day.” Steel Weaver gave Hammer Strike a wink, patted the mare on her head, then took his leave.
Hammer Strike sighed as he moved the blade he was working on into the furnace once more. “We’ll have plenty of time to work, once you’ve settled in to New Unity. For now, I would like you to become accustomed to my forge. You will be taught here.”
Dross’ breathing came in short bursts in her excitement as she looked over the confines of the space. “So, does that mean you’re actually going to be giving me a guided tour of your very own personal facility?”
“That is correct,” he replied as he glanced over to the mare. After a few moments of watching her hyperventilate, he rolled his eyes. “You’re free to faint.”
The mare promptly collapsed onto the floor with a heavy thump as her saddlebags struck the stone, popping open to reveal various bits of metal, a few daggers, and other minor pieces of unfinished weaponry or materials.
It was 0500, and Pensword and the other members of the Demon Slayers, including the new recruits, had taken formation at the mustering grounds in front of the barracks. Animal Control, who had been placed in charge of the morning’s training, looked at the group.
“Okay, recruits. Today, you’ll get a special treat.” The Unicorn grinned ferociously as she looked over the various Ponies that had gathered. “I won’t be giving your first PT exercises. That burden will be given to Commander Pensword of the Third Gryphon War Equestrian Forces.” Her smile faded away as her eyes hardened into a flinty gaze. “His words are law for this training. He picks the cadence, and he picks the workouts. There will be no whining, no complaining, and certainly no muttered threats.”
Several audible gulps sounded in the pre-dawn air. “Yes, Ma’am,” they said disconsolately.
Animal Control continued to stare them down. “We’ll work on your enthusiasm later. For right now, what do you say?” she asked. “And make sure it’s with feeling this time, or you’ll wind up with latrine duty for the next month.”
The cadets suddenly sprang to attention with eyes wide and hooves set to stance in a hasty salute. “Slayers of Nightmares!” they shouted hastily.
Pensword looked shrewdly over the Ponies, then snorted derisively. “Adequate, I suppose. Right. Listen up! We’re starting with a running cadence to the walls, where we will then proceed to run laps around the inner wall. I want to see how hard you recruits can run. And don’t rest on your laurels, if you think this is too easy. Next week, we’re moving to the outer wall. Let’s move it out!” he shouted, before starting a cadence from the old days as they ran in time behind him.
As soon as they reached the wall, they began to run. Pensword took flight, and was soon soaring laps around the perimeter that had become their track for the day. A certain sense of delight flooded through him as nostalgia from their first arrival at New Unity washed over him.
“You Pegasi, get up here with me!” he barked, and the Pegasi obeyed. He proceeded to put them through their paces, practicing various aerial maneuvers for them to stick to as they flew in pace with their fellow recruits below.
Pensword allowed himself a brief smile. The last week had wreaked havoc on his schedule, and he was glad to be back to the present. A light sheen of sweat shone on his coat, and his breathing came somewhat heavily. He may not have been so soft as the recruits, but he was feeling the effort far more keenly than he should have. He snorted in frustration as he felt the burning in the muscles at his back. It had been too long since he’d last been able to return to a proper physical regimen. Now that his mind was up to snuff, the body needed to follow.
“Five more laps,” he breathed as he flapped his wings once more. “Then we rejoin the herd below.” Once the exercise finished in his makeshift aerial course, he’d take to the ground to work on his legs and chest. His ears twitched as he heard the Demon Slayers hard at work. The occasional sound of a barked order or roughhousing graced his ears, and he chuckled. It seemed the other troops had their talons or hooves full respectively. New cadets were always fun to train, though the news of ten new recruits to his children’s unit had come as quite the surprise. That being said, Kahn seemed to be adapting rather well to his new role in leadership. It would make it all the better when the time came to take some of them as part of his personal guard. He hated breaking up the family, but he needed the power behind him for the ventures they had planned to succeed.
The fifth lap came, and he landed in a flying gallop, before trotting up next to Animal Control, whose horn glowed as an ethereal wolf loped alongside her. Pensword grinned at her showing off, while the familiar stuttering lope of a Pegasus taking a galloping landing struck its staccato behind him, before rejoining the herd. As part of their exercise, Animal Control had commanded the Unicorns to practice channeling their magic while they ran. As expected, the results proved rather dismal. Some of the recruits couldn’t even get their horns to produce so much as spark.
Pensword smiled over at Animal control. “Should I?” he huffed.
“Please do.”
His smile widened into a grin as he took a breath, then bellowed over his shoulder. “Since our new Unicorns here can’t seem to reach even the most basic of channelings, you all get to run five more laps!”
A painful groan rose from the new recruits as the sun shone down on their sweaty flanks. Animal Control just chuckled. Pensword either flew or ran intermittently to offer words of chastisement or encouragement as he deemed necessary. After all, the kids reminded him of the old ROTC days on Earth. Naturally, he wouldn’t necessarily show that partiality, but he’d make sure not to push them too far beyond their limits.
The time rolled on, and Pensword clopped past each of the recruits as they performed their various wing ups, push ups, and sit ups. While some few had trouble with form, overall, they had shown a surprising amount of endurance and adaptability for their stage in training. Six of Lafayette's Gryphon troops watched from the sidelines as they worked on their own exercises in silence.
Lighting Dust gave a quick salute to Pensword as he passed, and Pensword gave a curt nod of acknowledgement. Both Ponies’ ears twitched at the sound of a Unicorn colt muttering under his breath.
Lightning was in his face in an instant. “What was that, Recruit?”
“N–nothing,” the colt stammered.
“That sure didn’t sound like nothing,” she snapped. “After you’re done here, you’ll be dining with me and the rest of the Demon Slayers for Breakfast. And you’ll be sitting with the Gryphons. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes, Ma’am,” the Colt said in a subdued tone.
“And if I hear you mutter so much as one word of disrespect to my friends again, I’ll make sure to let them know, so they can address your insults themselves.” Her eyes narrowed as she glared the Pony down. “You’re not in Canterlot anymore, and you’re no better than anypony else here. We reward based on merit, not birth, and not species. Make sure you remember that.”
“Okay, you sorry lot!” Pensword barked. “It’s 0625. Time to switch things up. We’re going to cool down with more stretches, after which we’ll all file in to eat at the dining hall. Consider yourselves lucky. We decided to go light on you today. PT usually lasts from 0500 to 0700. You can thank Lightning Dust for that piece of charity.”
Lighting Dust grinned as Animal Control joined them. “Yes, and make sure to eat a good breakfast. We’ve got weapons training next.”
With the early morning session finished, and the final stretching complete, Pensword formed up with the other commanding officers at the front to lead the orderly march to the dining hall. The meal was a simple fare of oatmeal and a single polished apple. They ate for a half hour, then rose to wobbly hooves as their superiors called them to order again. It was going to be a very long day for the newbies. That much was certain.
Pensword nodded to his former cadets and the other troops as they filed out, then took his leave to examine the gardens. With the winter still in the air, the flora had yet to green or blossom, so the most he saw were a few trellises and the husks of hibernating bushes. The gravel was crisp and level, however, and the slush and snow had been carefully shoveled and piled in areas where it wouldn’t inhibit the walkways. A pair of hearty Earth Pony stallions were busy sprinkling pieces of salt in with the gravel to help facilitate melting, should another snowfall strike them unawares. They offered a casual salute to Pensword, and he smiled in turn as he nodded and made his way to the hidden door by a statue portraying Hammer Strike looking disapprovingly out at any who approached.
He slipped through the entrance and immediately wove through the halls towards the exit that led to the gardens. From there, it was a simple matter to reach the entrance to Me-Me’s hive, and from there to get to the training rooms, where he knew Silver Spear and the crown awaited. A part of him was looking forward to wearing the device again, while another part was more than a little worried about how he had taken such a liking to the artifact. Still, if he could impart his information and knowledge of tactics, even if it was somewhat outdated, he would gladly offer it. After all, Me-Me had reasoned they needed all the advantage they could obtain, and he couldn’t fault her logic.
A few minutes later, Pensword reached the familiar antechamber where he always meet with Me-Me, before starting the synching session. The two had agreed it would be best to keep them to a hour at most a day, since spending any longer connected to the hive outside of battle might not prove good for his mind.
Me-Me waited for him expectantly in front of the path to said chamber.
“Queen Me-Me,” Pensword greeted with a warm smile and a bow of his head. “How are you this morning? I hope the Princess no longer has nightmares for my rash actions.”
“My sister is recovering well,” Me-Me nodded. “And how is your family doing?”
“They’re doing well. Moon River seems to be making friends with your children, along with Grif’s cubs. Cristo and Inigo are both giving terror to some of the nobles who aren’t willing to learn about Thestral customs, and Day Moon is becoming, for all intents and purposes, a good monster hunter in training with Grif. Lunar Fang is keeping busy with the new recruits, and so is Fox Feather. She’s also being integrated into the local Thestral community, but I have a feeling you knew that already.”
“I may keep an eye on things,” she acknowledged.
“I thought so.” Pensword smiled. “So, what do you want me to teach today?”
“I think you should work on the fundamentals of the phalanx. History has proven it to be a most effective tactic.”
Pensword nodded. “I can do that. How many troops do you have for me today?” Happiness radiated from him at the thought of the work she’d put into studying for the session.
“Fifty, all prepped and ready to go.”
“Excellent. Lead the way, Your Highness.”
Me-me did as instructed, leading him into the chamber where Changeling soldiers stood gleaming a rusty red, waiting to learn.
Pensword looked over the fifty Changeling warriors. “Okay. Today, I’ll be talking to you about the Phalanx. Then I want you to practice the exercise, walking from one end of the cavern to the other as I broadcast the simulation through the crown. Is that understood?” he barked.
The Changelings barked out something in their native tongue and Pensword nodded his approval. “Very well. Let’s begin.” A chalkboard was wheeled in, and Pensword picked up a piece of chalk in his wing to start drawing. “The technique itself can be performed by any number of troops, but loses its effectiveness when dropped lower than twenty five in number. In a sense, it’s very similar to your swarm tactics, but more organized. Ponies march side by side, as closely together as possible. That closeness is then bolstered by creating a series of layers, lining the units up one after the other. Most of these lines generally go about five Ponies wide and five Ponies deep, so I suppose you could say that this counts as a double phalanx exercise. However, that could prove more of a boon than a burden, depending on the size of the enemy’s forces. The larger the force, the larger the phalanx may need to be, in order to break through.
“Now, back on Earth, the Phalanx comes from ancient times. Back then, the units would join their shields in a way that allowed them to overlap, creating a protective barrier against arrows and spears, while they used their own spears to crash against the enemy forces like a battering ram. If executed correctly, this particular strategy allows for a variety of strategic opportunities. It can be used to punch a hole for an escape route or to divide up an approaching force, so that they can be flanked. If the troops are able to recover and form up quickly enough, they can even turn around for multiple charges. If we have time, I may run you through a few of these scenarios, but for now, we’ll focus on the basic execution itself.” He lowered the chalk and dusted off his wings. “Let’s get started.”
The small talking took five minutes at most. The rest of the meeting was spent refining the technique and teaching the troops to form up correctly of their own accord. The formation itself was simple enough. As Pensword had said, the action proved quite similar to their old swarm tactics, and the hive connection allowed each of them to connect in close proximity without the usual qualms that separated other cadets in training. The real problem manifested itself when they actually tried to execute the maneuver. The cave proved too small to try a proper full turn. At most, all they could do was lunge in a straight line to thrust at an imaginary enemy. Me-Me promised to fix the problem by next week. That being said, Pensword was pleased at how well the Changelings had managed to adapt to the strategy.
“I think they have the jist of it now. Keep up the practice in a wider area, and they should be ready to utilize it in combat in no time.”
“I’ll make sure they set aside the time. Thank you, Pensword.”
Pensword nodded. “I’ll be back to help transfer scenarios to your captains to broadcast over the troops when I’m not able to visit. As for right now, if you’ll excuse me, Me-Me, I have to get back to New Unity. There are certain … matters that I’ve been putting off for too long. They need to be addressed.”
“Of course.”
Pensword offered a respectful bow, then took his leave. Once he’d gotten a safe distance from the hive’s entrance, he took to the air again. His wings almost seemed to groan in protest as he worked against the cold air to gain altitude. He continued to strain, allowing himself intermittent gliding periods to give his muscles a rest, before flapping again. Eventually, he reached the castle walls and the inner courtyard, where he then took advantage of the familiar vent above Hammer Strike’s forge, riding the thermals high enough to glide to his family’s living quarters. He easily alighted on the balcony, and let out a sigh of relief when his wings were able to rest against his sides again. His breathing came heavily, and he grit his teeth in frustration, but that was the extent of his outer expression. Once he regained his composure, and his wings had stopped trembling, he trotted in to check on Moon River and the colts. Unfortunately, both wives were out, so only the children were present, alongside Fizzpot, who continued to go about his business tidying the rooms and preparing treats for later in the day. After taking some time to play a game with the foals, he walked briskly through the halls to the one thing he dreaded, perhaps even more than he had his return to Mountainside Falls.
A veritable mountain of paperwork had practically buried his desk to the point of almost complete immersion. Permits, work orders, invoices, registrations, requisitions, and so much more seemed almost to growl threateningly. “At this point, I’d rather face Haymin again,” he groaned, then strode out to the main reception room. “Preston, if anyone asks to see me, tell them I’m busy.”
“Is there a problem, Sir?”
“Paperwork, Preston.” Pensword shook his head ruefully. “Lots and lots of paperwork.”
A wry smile crossed the Changeling’s lips. “Understood, Sir. Best of luck.”
“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”
“Just a little, Sir.” He shuffled through some papers on his desk and withdrew some envelopes. “By the way, these arrived for you from Canterlot today.”
Pensword sighed. “Thanks, Preston.” He picked up the envelopes and tucked them under a wing as he clopped slowly back to his office. Preston gave one final salute of farewell as the door closed shut behind the commander.
“Poor soul,” he sighed, then returned to his work.
Pensword flopped down on his chair as he took in the mountain of papers once again. “Note to self. See about getting someone to help develop a filing system for records storage,” he muttered. Then he began the laborious process of clearing the documents one page at a time. By the time he’d managed to clear off the surface of his desk, a full five hours had passed. He groaned, smacking his forelegs on the wooden surface, while he rubbed a hoof against the bridge of his nose. He needed a break.
The tired Pegasus’ eyes fell on the parcels he’d set aside to focus on clearing his desk. He noticed the seal of the Solar Court only too well. But there was at least a fifty-fifty chance that it could be from Celestia. On the plus side, it appeared Luna had also seen fit to write to him. Receiving a communication from her always put a smile on his face. Anxious for some good news and a little proper correspondence to break up the monotony, he reached for his recently excavated letter opener, easily slicing under the wax seal to pop the envelope open.
Unfortunately, the contents of the letter were fairly cut and dry, though it did prove somewhat helpful. As the High Duke of Filly De Ys, he was entitled to a monthly stipend. True, the majority of the income would have to be reinvested in maintaining the grounds there and in Mountainside Falls, but at least it gave him a small amount to budget with for some personal expenses.
Two more envelopes remained. Both bore the solar seal, so Pensword shuffled them, then chose at random, praying he didn’t pick one that would be from the nobles. Fortunately for him, he chose correctly. Celestia’s florid script greeted his gaze, and he smiled as he allowed himself a brief moment to admire the golden sheen on the ink.
Dear Commander Pensword,
My apologies for not getting around to this sooner. As I’m sure you know, there’s no rest for an Alicorn princess hard at work. Anyways, I’m writing this to you, because of a recent discovery in our accounting records. Apparently, you never got to receive your final pay, before your supposed death. As such, it seems only right to include this final portion in thanks to you for your dedicated service and continued diligence, even after being retired from the post. You’ll find the deposit has been made into your bank account.
Unfortunately, this letter has a second purpose. The nobles are growing restless again, and it’s likely they’ll seek to provoke you. I pray this letter finds you first, so I can assure you the crown doesn’t agree with or support whatever negative things they might say.
Wishing you all the best.
Signed,
Princess Celestia, a friend.
Pensword smiled sadly. It was only natural the nobles would mount an attempt soon. They were nothing, if not consistent in their constant obstruction. He sighed as he picked up the last letter and pulled it out. As Celestia had warned, it was obvious the Solar Nobles had penned it from the very beginning. Not only was it in Baron Blueblood’s scrawl, but the tone of address and the emphasis on his noble title only acted as further proof. He could practically smell the malice in the ink, before he’d even begun to read the letter’s contents.
To the High Duke of Ys, Baron of Dream City and Mountainside Falls Memorial Lands, Ruler over the Western Passes and Gryphon Graves Pass, Last born of Baron Hooves’ lands, Pensword, Retired Commander of Equestrian Forces,
We of the Solar Court write this letter under the assumption that you have already read Celestia’s letter about your final payment. Naturally, it is only fair to give you what you deserve, and to thank you for the grand service you performed for our nation in times past. However, it has come to our attention lately that you are seeking to take a hoof in things that, to be perfectly blunt, shouldn’t concern you anymore.
Let us be frank. You are retired. This means that while you may be able to offer advice, and to serve in some small capacity to assist the next generation of royal guards, you are not in command of anything, not anymore.
As such, we advise you to hang up your sword, raise your family, and rule your lands. Equestria has no need of you now, and even if we do need a commander, we would like to point out that you are technically far beyond the set age for retirement. The Solar Court is open to revisiting your retirement status; however, such a venture would prove … costly. Considering your current situation for your little business ventures, it would be inadvisable to seek an arbitration in this matter. Should you try to utilize your connections to Princess Sparkle or any of the other ruling mares, it will be deemed an act of espionage, at which point, we shall be forced to lay the full arm of the law upon you, placing liens against your estate, accounts, possessions, etc.
Please know that we have no desire to do so, but the law binds us all, and we must abide by it. However, since your family line is technically over a thousand years old, in accordance with the law, and in the same spirit and debt of gratitude mentioned at the start of this letter, we grant your bloodline the honor of being designated one of the elder families of the kingdom, granting you the same rights, honors, and privileges associated with such a unique distinction.
May you find peace as you struggle to bridge the old with the new.
Sincerely,
A majority of solar court’s members had signed beneath, with some few exceptions, such as the Sparkles, Fancy Pants, Baron Chivalry, and certain other families that had left their children in the care of the Thestrals at New Unity. Pensword sighed as he let the letter drop to the table. Of course the nobles would try to use his honor against him. At that moment, he heard the most devastating of sounds as a stray draft from his twitching wings blew over a whole pile of completed documents, strewing them all over the floor.
“Damn it,” he swore as his frustration mounted. It would take him at least another hour to get those papers properly organized again. “Where’s a stapler when you need one?” he muttered, even as he slipped off his chair to scrabble for the papers. And then the full impact of those words struck him like a mighty blow as the papers dropped to the floor again. “A stapler. Of course!” He smacked a wing against his forehead. “Why didn’t I think of this before?” He raced over to his desk and quickly drew up a spare paper and a brand new inkwell, before scratching frantically over the parchment with a quill. A few minutes later, he had a rough sketch of a stapler with a broad circular pressure point for hooves. A familiar curved wire bent in a pattern next to it to slip over a rough image of a stack of papers.
Pensword grinned exultantly. True, it might take some time to make a proper profit at first, but these two products alone would make a veritable gold mine in time. And the best part was the items wouldn’t even be too far of a leap in technology for Equestria to handle. It would be a simple matter to set up a production facility. He just had to get enough money together to purchase the patents for them. He wouldn’t even have to rely on Hammer Strike, at least not necessarily. He probably would still float the option by him, just for the sake of receiving his input, and possibly to aid in ensuring he had the mechanics of the device down properly.
“This has to be one of the best ideas I’ve ever had.” He giggled gleefully as he rose from his chair, parchment in hoof, and strode to the office door. His stomach rumbled its desire. First, he would satisfy the hunger. Then he’d seek out the smith. He could hardly wait to see the Pony lord’s reaction.
Vital Spark yawned heavily as he plodded through the hallway levitating a steaming stein of hot cocoa. He’d sip from it occasionally as he tried to blink the dark bags away from his eyes. Unfortunately for him, it wasn’t really working. He narrowly evaded various Ponies rushing back and forth along the halls as they scrambled to find anything remotely familiar in the large castle halls. Normally, Vital Spark would have been glad to help, but at this point, he was too tired to care, and feeling more than a bit surly over the whole thing. Finally, he arrived at the massive double doors that were the entrance to Hammer Strike’s personal forge. He didn’t bother to knock, since the smith hated formality, and besides that, forges were loud. A blast of heat buffeted his mane, causing it to land messily in front of his face and along the sides.
“So, it's gonna be one of those mornings, is it?” Vital muttered wryly, before downing the rest of the stein and looking at the world through temporarily blurred vision. He reached up and rubbed his eyes heavily with his hooves, then blinked a few more times to dispel what little of the fog remained.
“Hammer Strike, I-yee-yee-yeee!” The shriek of surprise echoed in the rafters, followed by the distinctly harsh clatter of metal on stone as a heavy metal platter and the tools that had been resting on it were strewn across the floor.
Vital Spark blinked, took another long slurp of his coco, looked down at the tools, then up at a yellow mare in a fluffy pink dress with an even fluffier mane. “You’re not Hammer Strike.”
“Neither are you,” the mare countered as she whipped out a mace from a saddlebag at her side. “Now who are you, and what are you doing in Hammer Strike’s forge?”
Vital Spark let out a heavy sigh. “Look, can we just skip the drama and pick it up tomorrow? I’ve had a rough night, and I’m really not up for hysterics right now.” He levitated the tray and tools from the ground and returned them to the surface, before shoving them at the mare’s chest, causing her to drop her mace. “There. Now then, since there’s no alarm going off, and no troops racing after me, that implies I have business here, and that I’m authorized to enter.” He looked mournfully at the bottom of the mug. “Why is the coco always gone when you need it?” he sighed.
“Wh-what do you want?” the mare demanded.
Vital Spark rubbed at the base of his horn and let out a longsuffering sigh. “So this is how Clover felt when I first joined,” he muttered. “Look, I want to see Hammer Strike. Pretty sure I already said that. You just go back to whatever it is he has you doing here, and we can pretend like this whole freakout thing never happened in the first place, capisce?”
“Come now, Vital,” Hammer Strike commented as he entered the forge. “Are you not a morning pony?” he finished with a faint chuckle.
“Not when I’ve had a bad night,” Vital replied, even as his head drooped. A shudder passed through the Unicorn’s frame, and suddenly he was standing bolt upright again with wide eyes. “Sorry,” he finished as he levitated the stein over to an empty space on one of the worktables. “So who’s this?” he asked, jerking his head towards the mare.
“Dross Caster, my new apprentice,” he replied as he navigated over to his worktable.
Vital nodded and extended a hoof. “Vital Spark. Pleasure to meet you, Dross. Sorry for the gruff. It’s just one of those days.”
The mare extended a hoof and shook, though her appearance was still wary. “Charmed, I’m sure.”
Vital Spark let it go at that, then lurched his way over to face the smith lord himself. “So, I’ve been thinking about those offers you mentioned.”
“And which of the three have you decided upon?”
“The one that lets me keep up my studies and away from the killing, well, barring extenuating circumstances. Say, you wouldn’t happen to have some coco on hand, would you?”
“Sorry, Vital, I don’t carry drinks, materials for drinks, or food in my forge.” Hammer Strike shook his head. “So, between the quartermaster position or under my employ as an assistant, which have you decided?”
“The latter.”
“That’ll certainly give me a little more free time to teach.” He gave a faint laugh. “All right, when is the soonest you can start?”
“Think we can make it tomorrow? I don’t think I’ll be much use to anyone today.”
“That’ll work. Just show up at my office sometime around eight to collect a few items and you’ll be on the clock.”
“Great. Not to be rude or anything, but I’m gonna skulk back to my bed, assuming I don’t collapse somewhere first.” He levitated the stein over and nodded to the smiths. “Hammer Strike, Dross Caster.” And then he plodded out the same way he came, leaving the door to boom shut behind him.
“Is he … always like that?” Dross asked hesitantly.
“Mostly. But he has some good days. Now, if I recall correctly, we left off on heat treatment.”
Grif stood on the wall overlooking the archery range as the recruits were being tested for their ability with a bow. He yawned idly as he watched. More often than not, there was no spectacular shot. A few recruits would manage to hit near the center of the closer range targets, but miss the second target entirely. For this test, the range had been set with targets in tiers of five. The first target sat squarely at two hundred yards, the second at two fifty, the third at three hundred, the fourth at four hundred meters, and the fifth at a fantastical five hundred twenty meters away. Even for most Gryphons, that would be impossible with a Pony bow. Grif was pretty sure even he’d have a hard time making that shot with one.
Still, he watched as he had for the last hour as teams of recruits were set up with a bow and a quiver of brightly fletched arrows in a specific color for there specific range. None of the Ponies ever reached higher than the third target. He was almost nodding off when a few cheers took him by surprise. Looking down to the range, he was taken aback as a Gryphoness in a set of custom recruit armor stood at the start of the farthest range from the wall. She had a bright green coat of fur and feathers, with a white band of plumage around her neck to contrast. A blue short crest stood atop her head with two long feathers hanging down the side of her face. A brown band of leather was wrapped around her left one. She was small, but held the bird traits of an eagle, he supposed her feline traits must be some kind of housecat.
What was causing the stir was the fact that she had currently scored a bullseye on her first three tiered targets. He gave an impressed whistle as he watched her nock a fourth arrow and sight along it, moving the almost comically small Pony bow in her talons as she lined her target along the shaft, then adjusted the bow’s position for wind speed and atmospheric conditions. After what seemed like a considerable amount of time, she released the arrow and scored a fourth bullseye. Grif watched as she nocked her fifth arrow, and shook his head. She’d done well. She’d be more than qualified as a sharpshooter in whichever branch she’d be moved to, but there was no way she’d make the shot with a bow like–.
Thunk!
The courtyard was so quiet that the sound of the arrow hitting the center of its target practically echoed. The silence remained unbroken for a full minute after the arrow stopped vibrating from the impact, before somepony stomped his hoof. Then another joined in, and yet another. Soon the courtyard echoed with the applause of stomping hooves.
Grif took a minute to pick his jaw off the floor, before calling over one of the soldier aids on the wall and instructing him to bring the Gryphoness to him. Then he waited patiently for her to arrive.
After some time, the Gryphoness closed in on Grif’s position, a hint of hesitation in her approach. “You requested my presence, uh, Sir?”
“Grif, please,” Grif said as he waved away any pretense of rank. “You’re a very impressive shot, Miss…?”
“Sinon Palewing. Thank you.”
“If you don’t mind me asking, how does a Gryphoness find herself in the guard?”
Sinon rubbed her left arm with her right. “I was raised here in Equestria.”
“Nothing to be ashamed of. The area I was raised in is considered part of Equestria these days as well. You know, I don’t mean to brag, but I’m considered a competent archer myself, and I don’t think I could have pulled that shot off with a Pony bow.”
“I’ve had plenty of time to practice with them,” she said modestly. “To be honest, I actually tried saving up for a Gryphon bow, but could never get enough for a good one.”
“Well, I think I could get one in your hands. I’d like to see how far you believe your limit to be.” Grif laughed. “Unity could use a shot like yours.”
“I’m glad to hear that. I’ve heard that I should be able to hit nearly double my range with a Gryphon bow.”
“Yes,” Grif agreed. “it has more draw weight, but the bows are made to take advantage of our species’ natural strengths.” He tapped just beside his eyes. “Here.” Then he tapped the top of his skull. “And here. We have a natural sense of wind speed and conditions. Sinon, I’m not sure if you’re aware, but our guard has three different branches in New Unity. I’d like to offer you a place in mine. It’s a lot of work. I expect my people to be in their best physical shape. But I promise you’ll have a lot of room to use your talents, and the exposure to learn some new ones. I realize, with your upbringing, that you may not feel especially connected to our culture, so I can limit your exposure to my clan, if necessary.”
The rubbing intensified. “I can’t make that decision right now…. I’ve only arrived recently.”
“Smart choice,” Grif nodded approvingly. “You didn’t take the first bone offered to you. Caution and perception are important, Sinon. Always remember that. I will see the bow finds you, when it’s ready.”
“Thank you.” She gave a low nod. “I really appreciate this.”
“A bit of advice from an old hunter. An old Gryphon proverb, you could say. ‘The strength of the pack is the wolf, and the strength of the wolf is the pack.’ Our lives rely on each other here. So, if you need anything, don’t be afraid to ask.”
Vital Spark knocked on the door to Trixie’s room respectfully, even as he sighed. Now that he’d had the time to discuss certain things with Clover, it was time to let his lover know what had actually happened. It still felt so strange to think of Trixie in those terms, and yet, it was the truth. He chuckled to himself. “Strange, indeed….”
“Come in,” Trixie’s voice called a few moments later.
As usual, the unique comforting sensation of the wagon-like decorating left Vital Spark feeling calm and safe as the cool blue curtains billowed over the walls. He smiled as he approached his love, who was currently busy examining a perfectly clear spherical crystal with an ornate polished redwood pedestal lined by gold filigree to hold the crystal in place.
“Testing your divination skills again?” Vital asked as he approached.
“I will get mastery of it,” she declared.
“Well, you did a pretty good job at that fair back then. And this place certainly does remind me of the tent,” he said as he scooted closer, then proceeded to kiss her on the cheek. “Should we take another go?” he asked mischievously.
“I suppose so,” Trixie nodded.
Vital hopped up onto the cushions of the bed and grabbed her hooves. “I see a romantic gesture in your future.” He smiled impishly, then snuck a surprise kiss on her lips.
“And I see great happiness in yours.” She returned the kiss.
“Would that be before or after confession?”
“Confession?” Trixie asked with a raised eyebrow.
“You know how Hammer Strike, Pensword, and Grif tend to have their various side adventures out of nowhere?”
“Yes,” Trixie nodded.
“Well, there was a complication that arose during the battle that led to Hammer Strike being taken away from us briefly, and Pensword, Grif, and I had to go get him with Princess Luna. I wanted to tell you, but Clover pretty much threatened to skin me alive, if I didn’t hold my peace until after the fact.” He bowed his head. “I just want to say I’m sorry and I hope things like this won’t happen again, but I honestly have no clue whether they will or won’t.” He sighed. “It’s complicated.”
Trixie laid a wing across his back. “I forgive you,” she said.
“Good. I’m glad you didn’t get upset with me. I don’t ever want to make you angry.”
“Well, I can’t promise that won’t happen, but I think we can work on it.”
“Mind if I, um … show you something else?”
“Do I need to lock the door?” she teased.
“Yes. And maybe raise a barrier.”
Trixie’s eyes widened. “I didn’t think you were the type,” she said as the door closed and locked. A few seconds later, she cast a soundproofing barrier.
“I meant a shield barrier, Trixie.” Vital rolled his eyes. “That can be saved for after the wedding.”
“Oh, of course. I knew that.” She blushed, casting the shield spell.
“Not that I don’t feel … inclined,” Vital noted as his cheeks flushed. “But I figured you might want to see a recent … development from that adventure I mentioned.” His horn ignited into its usual blue. He held that light there, keeping his eyes closed as he concentrated. Then, gradually, the calm aura began to bubble, then to roil, and finally to darken as a deeper aura manifested beneath the blue, curving around his horn. He fired a shot at the floor and an ice chunk the size of two couches erupted out of the floor, followed by a series of jagged blackened barbs.
“Where did you learn such a spell?” Trixie asked.
“In part, from a shadow version of myself that I had to fight. And, well, in part, from the piece of me up here that’s a bit less saintlike,” he said as he pointed to his head. “As far as I can tell, it’s a form of dark magic, but not the kind that corrupts, like with Sombra or the shadow Ponies of old.”
“It seems then the two of us make a fitting pair,” she smiled at him.
“I’m just hoping that I can learn how to make better use of these new abilities over time. I thought, perhaps, you might be able to help me there on the side as we work on our assignments for Clover.”
“Just a regular pair of dark magicians, aren't we?”
“Hmm … how about we just say we like to dance along the edge, hmm?” He smirked. “And speaking of dancing….” He grinned impishly as he pulled her off the bed, leaving the crystal ball to drop onto the padded surface, while he proceeded to spin the new Alicorn around the icy structure in a pantomime of a waltz.
Hammer Strike hummed to himself as he studied the entrance to Me-Me’s hive. Progress had definitely happened since he’d last visited the place. He was told to stand by, while something was dealt with, before he could enter the hive.
A large red Changeling standing almost taller than Hammer Strike himself approached. His body was clad in the rusty red chitinous armor that was becoming the trademark of the Changelings of New Unity. It had been streamlined into smooth articulated plates that hindered little movement as the Changeling walked. His face was covered by a second extra thick crest, which started between the eyes and expanded upwards and outwards to cover the entire back of the skull. His mouth was flanked by a set of fearsome looking pincers that clacked a few times on their own.
“Lord Hammer Strike?” the voice came out in a surprisingly deep, rumbling tone. “I am Argus. The Queen has sent me to escort you.”
Hammer Strike nodded. “Lead the way.”
Argus nodded and turned to the tunnel. “As you can see, the Queen has been working on modifications to the army, in order to provide better support on the battlefield. I am a recently matured heavy infantry drone.”
“She’s been doing well to study the intricacies of armor,” Hammer Strike noted. “I’d like to look at the other units some time later, if possible.”
“The queen was intending to ask you to inspect the recent broods for your approval, actually. She has been working very hard to imbue us with all the instincts we could need on the battlefield.”
“With your own free will, there will be some interesting situations on a battlefield. To give individuality is to give a sense of randomness to it,” Hammer Strike replied as he continued to study his surroundings.
The tunnels were wider now, still supported by strange secretions of goop on the walls, and every now and then what seemed like large tentacle-like structures that wrapped around the semispherical roof in a double arch. Drones of various sizes and shapes went about their business as though Hammer Strike wasn’t there. Argus lead him down several winding tunnels, and the Pony lord was allowed to observe Changelings pouring over textbooks on infrastructure, economics, medicine, microbiology, magical theory, and even an old textbook on physics.
He was shown several chambers where Changelings experimented with cooking, carpentry, metallurgy, and even jeweling. He was sure he saw at least one chamber with a list of targets that had several pictures crossed off. Finally, they found Me-Me down one of the deeper chambers. She stood at the end of the tunnel, looking at the object they had excavated.
The large chamber was mostly a solid black cube. Small markings of a red cross and something in an unknown language were faded out, scratched away, or completely gone, leaving behind a mostly blank, glossy black cube room.
“We finished it last week, but due to situations that I feel are obvious, we decided to hold back on telling you until later,” Me-Me said without turning. “Thank you, Argus. You may return to your post.”
“Yes, my Queen.” Argus bowed and left the two of them alone.
“I take it the walls are too reinforced to be carved through?” Hammer Strike asked.
“I’ve tried several mixes for cutting fluid, as well as a diamond tipped drill,” Me-Me nodded.
Hammer Strike hummed as he moved towards the cube. “If we’re unable to open it in a safe manner, I suppose I could try brute force. If I can break it open, it might damage some things, but we’d be able to examine what lays inside. What do you think?”
“Perhaps, but maybe thats a task for later? With greater preparation?”
“Definitely. I doubt we’d get too much progress with just my hooves alone,” he nodded, before giving a soft sigh. “I’d like to apologize about my lack of visits. You’re under my protection both politically and in a physical sense as well, but I haven’t found the time to check up on things.”
“And allow me to apologize as well. I was not informed the chain of command had been modified. I hope that you do not consider any of the information I have released previously to be too sensitive?”
“Not to my knowledge, but I haven’t even heard of some of the visits that have been going on.” He rubbed at his chin in thought. “When was the last visit, and by who?”
“Pensword was by yesterday. He gave a lesson on the phalanx to some of our troops. He is, however, unaware of the scope to which I have been increasing population.”
“And how much of an increase are we talking about?”
“Mother isn’t going to cut down her numbers. If anything, she’ll be looking for ways to increase. I can't match her production, unless I wish to be spending the next year attached to an egg sac, but I have my ways.” She started heading back down the tunnel. “There is something you should see”
Hammer Strike followed behind. “Speaking of that, I need to plan for new types of complications….”
“So, keep in mind that at least a third of these drones were still incubating during the last battle. I wasn’t holding them back from New Unity’s defenses. They simply weren’t ready for battle yet,” Me-Me explained as she led him a surprisingly short distance up the tunnel and stopped at a large door to an antechamber. “Some of them are a little nervous, so please try not to do your creepy smile.”
“I don’t know how much offense I should take to that, but all right.”
The door opened, revealing a massive chamber that currently held no lighting in it. Me-Me stepped into the doorway and beckoned him to follow. When he did, the door closed behind them, swallowing them in darkness.
“Unless you expect a fire, I don’t have night vision.”
Me-Me’s horn sparked, and then, a long way above them, crystal formations lit up with incandescent light, revealing them to be standing on a raised balcony over a massive chamber that opened up a good hundred feet beneath them. As more and more formations lit up, Hammer Strike found himself staring down at several large rusty red squares. It took him a moment to realize the squares where formations of Changelings, standing twenty drones wide and twenty drones deep. Each stood ramrod straight, their horns raised in a salute.
“May I present the first legion, nearly five thousand battle ready drones, ready to fight and die for the hive and for New Unity.” Me-Me seemed to swell with pride as she looked down at her children.
“Wow,” Hammer Strike commented as he looked over the edge. “That’s way more than I was anticipating.”
“Many Ponies and Gryphons have fought and died for us. It is high time we start returning the favor,” Me-Me said. “Unfortunately, there is something we need from you to make them combat ready.”
“Name it, and I’ll see to it.”
“Our attempts to create our own weapons have proven … substandard. They will need weapons, and knowledge for how to use them practically. The latter can be obtained by a single drone in New Unity, but the former.…”
Hammer Strike hummed to himself. “Five thousand weapons, and with free will on the table, you have more than just a longsword for each unit.”
“They will be able to determine where their preferences lie during the training process,” Me-Me assured Hammer Strike. “And I will see to it that you are compensated in every way we can bring to bear.”
“If it weren’t for the fact I trained with almost every weapon I have ever made, this would take a lot more time to find someone for each set. If you just need one trained for weapons, I can teach them at New Unity. Away from prying eyes, of course.”
“I’ll have a drone sent to you,” Me-Me nodded. “This will be a battle of quality over quantity, next time mother attacks. I want to be ready to do our part.”
“To quickly note, send three unit types: heavy, medium, and light.”
“I’ll make the arrangements,” Me-Me said. Her eyes went cloudy for a brief moment. “It’s done. You’ll have them in the castle when you get back.” The two left the chamber behind them and moved back to the tunnel. “As you may have noticed on your way in, Grif has been very kind in getting us textbooks on a variety of subjects. I hope to add much more to my children. There is so much we could accomplish without the stigma of constant hunger.”
“The things you have already in play are certainly unique. Hopefully things will continue this way for you.”
“Without your protection, I feel another hive would have tried to invade us already. The other Changelings are less–.” Further comment was cut off as a copper-colored blur seemed to instantly appear, only to hide behind Me-Me’s legs. Me-Me looked at her sister with an exasperated sigh. “Pupa, I told you not to change your coloring.”
“I didn’t want to stand out,” Pupa quavered. A blush rose in her cheeks. “And besides. I … kind of like it.”
Me-me sighed again. “Hammer Strike, I don’t believe you’ve met my sister.” Me-Me did her best to move the young Changeling into view. “This is Pupa, Mother’s true royal daughter. Pupa, this is Lord Hammer Strike.”
Pupa promptly let out an undignified, “Eep!” before whirring her wings as fast as they could go. She nearly succeeded in getting off the ground, until a green aura wrapped around her body, anchoring her to the spot, no matter how hard she tried to fly.
“Calm down. He’s not the monster you’ve heard of.” Me-Me looked at Hammer Strike apologetically. “The only things she’s heard have been what Mother told her.”
Hammer Strike nodded, before lowering himself to Pupa’s height. “You have nothing to fear, little one,” he spoke calmly. “You are different from your mother. I can tell as much by your eyes. With what kindness is there, I offer to you the same protection I have given Me-Me.”
Pupa continued to huddle close to her sister, despite the lord’s assurances. Her body shook, and her carapice rattled as her chiton knocked against itself.
“Why don’t you go check on the hatchlings?” Me-Me suggested as she nudged the young filly gently. “They always cheer you up.” She nuzzled her once, then gave her a light push and a reassuring smile. “Go on. I’ll come find you when we’re done here.”
Pupa nodded, looking nervously back at Hammer Strike, then to Me-Me. She started off at a slow trot, but despite her best efforts, the loud sound of a frightened gallop echoed back through the corridors, once she was out of sight.
Hammer Strike sighed as he straightened himself up. “For a child to be exposed to war stories in a minor dose can instill some sense of pride. Unfortunately, a large dose with vivid detail instills fear and horror over the subject.”
“It will take some time for her to understand,” Me-Me nodded. “She doesn’t hate you; nor do I think she blames you. She just needs to adjust.”
“It’s all right. I’m used to it, for the most part,” Hammer Strike sighed.
“So, what else should I show you?” Me-Me asked.
“That should be it, unless you have anything else to update me on?”
“Nothing that seems prudent at the moment.” The queen shook her head.
“Alright then. I’ll look into setting up a proper system out here to get information back and forth between us, so you can keep me up to date on what’s been going on, like visitors and all that stuff. With that promise given, I’ll get out of your mane.”
“Should I call Argus to escort you out?”
“Thankfully, I remember the way out, so there’s no need to worry. Have a good day, Me-Me,” Hammer Strike said by way of farewell as he clopped off into the maze that was the hive.
“Pensword!” Grif’s voice echoed through the Thestral camp as he looked for his friend. He found Pensword taking care of weapons and teaching his three sons, Night Terror, and other foals on the different cuts of a wild deer, and how to skin and curing its hide. Moon River was hiding in a tree branch off to the side, watching her father as he taught.
“Pensword!” Grif called again. “We have a pest that needs dealing with.”
Pensword’s ear twitched. “Now….” He turned to the eldest of his sons, “Day Moon, watch these young ones, and keep Night Terror from throwing another fit. Your teacher is demanding my time, so it’s only fair that you teach the end of the class.” Pensword gently hoofed over the gear and tools he’d been using, and Day Moon nodded his silent assent.
It didn’t take long for Pensword to hover in front of his friend with his forelegs folded. “What is it, Grif? You do know I’m teaching the young how to clean a carcass and cure its hide, right? It’s very important for me to make sure they get it right, as the clan leader, you know.”
Grif handed pensword a parchment. “Read it,” he ordered.
Pensword quirked an eyebrow, but raised no argument as he looked over the parchment. He paused for a time, then and handed it back to the Gryphon. He took a deep breath, then proceeded to swear at some length in Japanese, Chinese, and German. He also bucked the nearest tree at the same time as his eyes lit with outrage. “When do we move?”
“The first thing we need to do is get Twilight on stopping them from taking the money. I can’t afford another donation that large, and I know you can’t either.”
“Right,” Pensword agreed. “Golden Oaks, then?”
“As soon as possible,” Grif agreed.
Pensword looked back to where he had left the foals and sighed. “We’d better go get Twilight now, then. That way we’ll have enough time for her to finish her freakout and get down to business. Worst case scenario, we could probably put Cheerilee’s school under New Unity’s jurisdiction.”
Grif shook his head. “Won’t matter if we do. Apparently, this EEA works independently of the crown. They have total control over the accreditation of all schools within Equestria’s borders. Even if Cheerilee moved the school to Unity, they’d still have the power to do this.”
Pensword paused, wings twitching in annoyance as he worked over the information. “Your saying that this EEA is independent of the crown, that they have no oversight at all, meaning they could, and most likely have, put their own spin on things?” He sputtered for a few moments, at a loss for words. “How can we have something not overseen by the crown?” he finally cried.
Grif nodded. “Lets take to wing,” he said as he headed up. Pensword returned, offering quick instructions to Day Moon, before following after Grif as quickly as his aching wings would allow. His eye twitched against his will as his anger continued to mount. Ten minutes later, they landed outside Golden Oaks. Grif wasted no time, hammering on the door with a heavy hand.
The door creaked open to reveal a familiar smiling Dragon. His arms had begun to take on a little more definition, and his tail appeared to have grown a little longer from the last time they had seen him. “Hey, guys. What’s up?” Spike greeted.
Pensword nodded gravely to Spike. “Nothing good. We need to speak to Twilight as soon as possible, not as soon as she can. Understood?”
“Did something happen at the castle?”
“The future of education in Ponyville may very well depend on this, Spike,” Pensword answered gravely.
“Hoboy,” Spike puffed. “Give me a minute. Twilight’s gonna want to see you guys right away.” He motioned towards the great round table and the carved wooden Pony head. “Have a seat. I’ll go get her.”
“Thanks, Spike.” Grif nodded, taking his seat. Pensword soon followed suit, tapping his wings impatiently on the table.
It didn’t take long for a nigh-panic-stricken Twilight to poof into the room with a bright purple flash. “Okay, what’s the emergency? Is it a monster, some sort of spell gone awry, a revolt? What’s going on?”
Grif gestured to Pensword to show her the message. By the time Twilight had finished reading through it, her teeth were grinding against each other, and a throbbing red blood vessel pulsed on the side of her head. “This is outrageous!” She slammed her hooves angrily on the table, sending out a minor shockwave. Then she gasped and quickly put a hoof to her mouth as she blushed. “Oops.”
“And I thought that only happened in anime,” Pensword whispered.
“First thing we need is for you to put a royal freeze on the money, until this gets worked out. That’s a lot of bits, and we can’t exactly duplicate numbers that big,” Grif explained.
“Not to mention the donation was made explicitly to that school itself, with an express purpose behind it. By all rights, if this EEA is really going to object to letting us teach the next generation of citizens in Equestria, then they have no right to the funds that were dedicated to that purpose,” Pensword added.
“According to Cherrilee, they’re fine with it, as long as the next generation is all Ponies. This Chancellor Neighsay’s objections seemed entirely based towards the additions for multiracial students.”
“And just what does he expect to happen when more than a third of Equestria’s current population aren’t Ponies? Does he intend to leave them utterly ignorant? That … that … jackass!” She winced slightly. “No offense.”
Nopony was there to respond.
“Twilight, my people have been the equivalent of migrants in Equestria for around seven hundred years. I thought it was mistrust on their part, or possibly no one having the guts to step up. It seems that now I have the real answer as to why. Naturally, you see why we can’t let this slide?” Grif asked.
“Perfectly, Grif. Knowledge is something that should be shared freely, not hoarded. The question now is what, exactly, we’re going to do about it. If we’re going to beat them at their own game, then it’ll take more than halting the seizure of funds. I’m going to need some time to research the law, not to mention their own bylaws. And since this is a matter that involves all non-Ponies, and potentially Thestrals, I want to coordinate this with the both of you and any other leaders you think could be useful.”
“Well, I’m not sure we can do anything directly to them. At most, you might be able to audit them, since they pull funding from the educational services of the government. Whatever we do needs to be clever.”
Pensword nodded his agreement. “We should look into letting Princess Luna know as well. After all, she did bring up the old law that certified Thestrals as equal citizens. If this Neighsay even thinks of using such outdated thinking, it would open an opportunity for Luna to look into their entire organization as a whole.” Then he smirked. “After all, that kind of thinking shows tribalism, a practice that even Celestia herself looks down on.”
“Pensword, Celestia must have signed their charter, or else they wouldn’t be able to exist. If she actively works against them, it will only come back on her.” Grif shook his head. “We need to find a way around them. I don’t suppose Equestria has some other type of accreditation board?” Grif asked.
“Several, but none that I’m aware of that could apply in this situation. Then again, I haven’t made an in-depth study of law and organizations around the educational system before, either.”
“Maybe start with how a board like this is created,” Grif suggested.
“I’ll make a trip into Canterlot immediately. The royal archives should have all the resources I need. I’ll see if I can bring the matter up with Princess Celestia in private, too. She’ll likely be able to direct me to the best resources.”
“Do the research first,” Grif said firmly. “Make sure you understand everything, before you go to her.”
“I assume to avoid raising too much suspicion?”
“And to avoid news getting back to the EEA. If they realize this is happening, they could move faster than we anticipate, and then we’ll be left playing a defensive war on our hind legs.”
“And the nobility. The last thing we want is Baron Blueblood getting ahold of this information and using it,” Pensword added.
“Good point. He’s already enough trouble without weighing down the capital by trying to form committees,” Twilight agreed. “I’ll make sure to keep my studies discreet. And I have just the spells to keep anypony else from suspecting me.” She blushed. “Let’s just say I’ve had an instance where they were needed before.”
“That sounds good.” Pensword nodded.
“Contact us, if you need us. Any time at all,” Grif stressed.
“I will,” Twilight agreed as her face hardened into a grim expression. “I’ll Pinkie swear on it.”
Extended Holiday Ch 139: Of Music, Magic, and Finances Act 22
The next day dawned, much like any other, and all the Ponies of New Unity had passed through their morning oblations and exercises, leaving the main leaders and representatives of the castle to go about their work. Pensword sat looking at Hammer Strike from his beanbag seat, waiting for Grif to arrive. A couple of scrolls sat in his hooves, and a plate of half-chewed sugar cane stalks lay at his side. His face was set in an unpleasant grimace as he chewed his latest victim violently.
Grif arrived a few minutes later. “Sorry I’m late. I had a side project that needed to be looked after.”
“Not a problem,” Pensword replied. He looked at the Gryphon, and then to Hammer Strike. Then he sighed heavily. “I can’t teach,” he blurted as he handed one of the the scrolls to Grif. “I’ve literally just had my wings tied and my primary feathers clipped, at least for the moment. The Demon Slayers can teach and work with the armed forces, but thanks to our ‘noble’ friends in the Solar Court, I’ve essentially been cut off from any chance of military service, until I can file for a proper disputation. Needless to say, I am not amused.”
“Didn’t you put forth the age restricting regulations yourself?” Grif asked.
“I did not. That was the ruling of the military court. They did it to unseat one of the noble majors who was too senile to be of service and too stubborn to retire.”
Grif looked to Hammer Strike. “What do you think about all this?”
“With everything that’s been going on with you, Pensword, I doubt you had time to catch yourself up on everything military related, so perhaps this delay could be considered a positive,” Hammer Strike replied with a shrug.
“This also arrived this morning,” Pensword said, handing it to Hammer Strike. “Basically, it is to remind you that I cannot read anything that is Classified over a certain point, meaning that while I am allowed to review military records from a certain point in the past, I am unable to so much as watch the new training and tactics you, Grif, and Clover are coming up with. In other words, I’m going to have to interview with each of the primary leaders in the programs and receive an official vouch from each of them.” His face darkened as he sputtered angrily. “They seem to think they can have their cake and eat it too,” he muttered.
“I care not for what the nobles think and want.” Hammer Strike leaned against his elbow. “And I don’t care if you read or see any of these exercises, Pensword. Do whatever you want.”
“Then I humbly ask to be hired as a military advisor. That would grant me the clearance that the nobles seem so keen on. It keeps things status quo and shows that you care not for their words.”
“I’m sorry, Pensword, but I’ve already got that role filled,” Hammer Strike shrugged.
“Military historian on the committee?”
“I’ll have to check if there are some openings.”
Pensword furrowed his brow and tapped his chin as he pondered. “Very well. That leaves something else. Do I have authority to charge rent for any who store goods in the warehouses? I also need to locate an investor to discuss a few new ideas I’ve had, along with the fact that I need to talk about bits and an income.” he sighed. “Currently, I am living on savings, till they can ship taxes to me, and then I can pay the taxes on that to Luna.” He sighed again, more heavily this time. “To tell the truth, Hammer Strike, after our last adventure, I feel like the odd stallion out. Sorry for my bluntness.”
“Considering the concept of your current business is to hold cargo for merchants, I would suspect that you need to charge them. As for an investor, I’m sorry, but you’ll have to ask elsewhere.”
“Can I show you the ideas, at least? You know which nobles and businessponies might be trustworthy.”
Hammer Strike sighed as he rubbed his hoof between his eyes. “Show me later, then.”
Pensword beamed. “Thank you, Hammer Strike.” Then he frowned. “You know, I feel like I had something else on my mind, but I cannot, for the life of me, remember at this moment.” He paused. A worried look crossing his eyes and muzzle. “You will keep the Solar Courts from taking the Demon Slayers from me?”
“Currently, they are employed in my guard, so the Solar Court has no grasp over them.”
“Can we draft up a paper that they are on loan? Just those from the past and my Gryphon sons and daughters?”
“They can leave whenever they want, Pensword. There’s no need for paperwork,” Hammer Strike sighed.
“Sorry, I just …. This was a blind side to me yesterday. I’ll recover, but until you need me again or we can find a place I can help, I have little room to act, save working to modernize Thestral tactics and reading up on history and tactics.” He sighed morosely as he rose to his hooves. “Do I have you permission to leave, my friend?”
Hammer Strike nodded. “You’re free.”
“Thank you. I’ll see you later today.”
Grif watched as the door closed behind Pensword. “You didn’t tell him you turned down the position?”
“He doesn’t need to know. After our decline, there is no need to bring it up more.”
“Fair enough,” Grif nodded. “You still have schematics for fittings for Gryphon bows?”
“Yeah. Why do you ask?”
“I need a set, whenever you can get around to it. There’s no rush, but I’d prefer them coming from the best, making a new bow.”
Hammer Strike shrugged. “Sure. Come by at the end of the day.”
Grif nodded. “Thanks. I don’t have anything, really, to report. You know about everything I know when I know it. This EEA thing has me pissed off, but I figure it will be good to let Twilight try and flex her metaphorical muscles this time. If we need you to bring the hammer, I’ll let you know.”
“Sounds good,” Hammer Strike replied as he stood up.
“How's the new apprentice working out?” Grif asked as he followed suit.
“She’s learning quickly, though she’d love it, if I were to teach her more. I just don’t have all hours of the day free.” He chuckled. “Nor could she keep up with that kind of pace, if I did.”
“Who could?” Grif chuckled. “Still, it will be good for you to have someone to keep you company down there. Anyway, is there anything you need me to know? If not, I should probably head back. I wanted to spend some time with the kids, while I have it.”
“Not right now, I don’t, but I’ll keep you posted. Enjoy your day.”
“Later,” Grif nodded, before moving to the window, opening it, and taking flight.
Vital Spark sat calmly on his haunches as he sipped the sweet, spicy brew Zecora had concocted. As usual, the Zebra maintained her kind and wizened expression with that mysterious smile of hers as she kept a steady eye on the pot. Her staff lay against the wall next to her house’s door, and the dry, dusty scent of the savannah permeated the space. She carefully poured out a portion for herself, then took a seat a little ways around the fire from the Unicorn.
“Now then, Vital Spark. You came to my home and sought me out. Why don’t you tell me what this visit’s about?”
“To put it simply, research. I came here to ask about your homeland, about Zebrica.”
“The size of that subject is very great. Our discussion would end when it’s far too late.”
“I’m not asking to know everything in one sitting, Zecora, but I would like to know some basics, at least. You know, cultural customs, relationships between the tribes, assuming there are separate tribes, politics, that sort of thing.”
“And why the curiosity, if I may ask? Did someone appoint you to this task?”
“In a manner of speaking, yes.” Vital took another sip of his tea. “First of all, there’s the matter of ambassadorial work. As the chosen representative for relations between Equestria and Earth, I need to be able to help the humans understand not only Pony culture, but all the other cultures in Equis as well. Then there’s the matter of a desire to understand the nature of the magic Zebras utilize and how it differs from that of the standard Pony magic. And as for any other reasons, well, those will probably have to stay with me.”
“There’s no need to hide the truth from me. The best path to choose is honesty,” she said archly as she took another sip from her cup.
“I’m being as honest as I can, but I’m bound by this. I was warned not to tell anyone about it, and I know better than to try going against that warning, considering its source.”
“I see your joviality has hardened into gravity. Whatever burden you now bear must weigh quite heavily. Have a care.”
Vital Spark smiled. “Thanks, Zecora. I promise, though. I’m all right. I just don’t want to worry anybody else is all.”
Zecora nodded, then tapped her chin softly. “Long has it been, since I did roam the grassy plains I once called home. My people are broken in many tribes who band together to each survive. The ancient power within our land is difficult to understand. Our people follow an different art, the shaman’s path at nature’s heart. The spirits of earth and sea and sky grant guidance, wisdom, and power from on high. We heed their call and follow their will to sharpen our survival skills. Warrior, shaman, diviner, farmer, crafters of goods and fighters’ armor. One village each was the place to train, to prepare for the task the spirits ordain.”
“So, there was a sort of hub where each Zebra was assigned to learn a craft that they didn’t choose for themselves?”
“The spirits touch, the spirits choose. Who are we to just refuse?” She pointed to the mark on her flank. “Your talents define your cutie marks. Ours come by a different spark.”
“So, you believe in predestination?”
“Foreordination,” she clarified.
“In other words, you’re shown the path, but you have to choose to take it.”
She nodded.
“And if you don’t want to?”
“No one has chosen not to be. The call makes them happy. Their choice makes them free.”
“So you’re saying it’s a utopia?”
Zecora’s visage darkened. “No country is perfect. We all have our flaws. We have our rule breakers. We have our outlaws.” She shook her head ruefully.
“Exiles?”
The Zebra nodded as she took another sip from her cup.
“What about the Minotaurs and the stampede grounds?”
“Our people now live in relative peace, though certain prejudices have yet to cease. Most barbs are said in goodly fun, but push it too far, and that peace is undone. Our wars now lie within the past. The dance is all done. The die has been cast. We now pass freely through the others’ lands. We live and trade with hoof in hand.”
“Big Guns tells me there are two main castes that exist in the culture. The first is the female half, who act as the religious leaders, a sort of matriarch to temper the more rambunxious nature of the warrior caste.”
“Yes. Hot is the blood that flows through their veins. It is the source of many old pains. Some learn control, and some let it rage. Whichever one leads defines the age.” She looked pensively at the reflection in her cup.
“You want to talk about it?”
Zecora simply smiled and shook her head. “Let the old ghosts lie where they may. We’ll save that discussion for another day.”
“Well, I know just the thing to cheer you up. Just give me a moment to refill my cup.” He smiled and winked at her. “Your wit is sharp, your cadence sublime.” His smile widened into a grin as he levitated a steaming cup between his hooves. “Now let us begin our battle of rhyme.”
Zecora chuckled as the light in the room began to darken, casting shadows over the two equines’ faces. “No room to back out now. It’s far too late. Prepare yourself, Vital. You have sealed your fate.”
“You know,” Grif said, staring out onto the sparring grounds as the new recruits were paired out to try different weapons, “it’s kinda funny how, despite spears being the Royal Guard standard equipment, very few of our troops actually use one.”
“Well, if you had a spear all your life and suddenly had a chance to try other weapons, what would you do as a young recruit?” Pensword asked as he landed next to his friend. A set of wing weights hung on either side of his joints. He quickly took them off to lay in his saddle bags and stretched the muscles, before retracting the wings to rest at his sides.
“Honestly? I come from a race with only one signature weapon.” He gestured to his bow. “Gryphons have never used a standardized weapon for anything other than parade.”
“And the downfall of Rome, which is something Hammer Strike, you, and I are trying to prevent from happening in Equestria.” He paused. “Which is funny, actually, now that I think about it. Weren’t M16 rifles seen like a standardized weapon back on Earth.”
“Maybe.” Grif shrugged. “Some of the Unicorns are surprisingly good with the one handed sword, though. Are we sure these are Canterlot types?”
“From the reports, yeah,” Hammer Strike commented as he continued his observations.
Grif pointed to one Unicorn mare. Her mane and tail were both long, straight, and shone a vibrant orange. Her coat was a solid white. Her cutie mark showed a rapier sprouting off a rose, like a thorn. Currently, she was using one of the stock rapiers against an opponent weilding a bastard sword and a shield. She had just dodged a shield bash deftly, before rushing forward. Suddenly, the sword became a blur in the air as she charged with so many rapid thrusts that even Grif was having trouble tracking them. Thankfully, the sword was blunted, but it still left a polka dot pattern of welts across the other Pony’s body.
“That's actually quite impressive,” Grif noted.
“I’m guessing she’s in your unit, Grif?” Pensword asked with a smirk, then chuckled. “And the guard tried to wash her out? They must be insane.”
“We haven’t sorted them yet, but I suspect she isn’t made for the physical program I do,” Grif shrugged. “As for her winding up here, it was something about her family not wanting her in the guard. They had enough money to bribe the right people to bench her.”
Pensword grinned. “I might have to try to bring her into the Demon Slayers, then.” He frowned. “Then again, while the name was an excellent amendment for the old unit, that probably isn’t the best name for the kind of feeling we want in the new military.” He tapped his chin curiously as he mused, while he watched the Unicorn bend over to offer a hoof to her defeated opponent. “Let’s go with the Phoenix Unit,” he decided. “It will be the rebirth for the fresh start we need here.”
“Agil there seems like he’d fit in my branch better,” Grif noted. “Don’t know why Canterlot let him go, but he completed the whole entire workout with us yesterday, and I don’t mean just barely. He was with us the whole time.” He gestured to where the massive Earth Pony waited for a partner. Out of his enchanted armor, he was entirely brown with a black mane shaved almost completely off and a short black tail. He hefted a savage looking double sided bearded battle axe as though it weighed very little.
“Reminds me of what a descendant of Rockhoof would look like,” Pensword muttered.
“I feel we may have to evaluate some of these recruits personally,” Hammer Strike hummed aloud as he studied a few noted individuals. “Their skillsets are beyond the standard guard, and I feel obligated to bring those forward.”
“Agreed. They should be cadet officers at the minimum,” Pensword said. “That reminds me. I heard a rumor that you took on an apprentice recently. Is it true?”
“Yep. Her name’s Dross Caster.”
Pensword smiled. “I’m happy to hear that. I’m guessing you all gave her a slight scare?” He chuckled mirthfully. “How’s her first work going?”
“She’s learning. I’ve still got to bring her up to speed for materials that are available.”
“She’s sticking to what she’s used to working with, then? Have you given her free rein?”
“She doesn’t have free reign, just the basic equipment and materials needed to get started. “
“So what is she making, then? Nails? Stakes? Anything more complicated?” He frowned slightly. “You know, my brother was into blacksmithing, once, before he became president of the railroad.”
Hammer Strike shrugged. “Basically.”
“Sounds good.” Pensword paused hesitantly. “Say, Hammer Strike, have you got a free hour next week? I was just thinking … smithing is a pretty important skill to know, and I was curious about how you would go about making a nail. You know, the materials needed, that sort of thing.”
“If you head to the forges currently, some of the recruits are learning to do that right now.”
Pensword smiled. “I’ll do so, then, right after this review. I can push back some of my paperwork till tomorrow.” He blushed. “Truth be told, I’m hoping to learn enough, so I can forge my own arrowheads.” Then he sighed. “Hammer Strike, I’d like to apologize, too. Whenever I’ve met you in your office, I just couldn’t help but be formal. Really, I’ve been feeling that way almost everywhere around you lately. It has to do with my failings, I think. After what happened with my stubbornness with the thaumaturgy, it’s been … difficult to feel so relaxed around you. Sorry, my friend.”
“It’s all right. I’ve gotten used to it.”
“No, it’s not.” Pensword shook his head. “You shouldn’t have gotten used to it. I need to change. I don’t know what my future will hold now, but I know I need to improve myself. I can’t allow myself to become complacent again. Otherwise, I’ll be nothing more than a poor friend, if I could even be called a friend at all.”
“When it comes to our livelihood, sometimes we end up with differences in our interactions with others. I don’t hold it against you, Pensword. We had that discussion already. It’s in the past, and you’re working to make the changes you have to make. As for the formality in my office, it’s natural for a Pony like you. The military, and technically the guard, it changes individuals. It changed you. That’s nothing to be ashamed of.”
Pensword smiled softly. “Thank you, Hammer Strike.” His ears perked up then, and his smile widened. “So, what’s your next project? Or are you just going to play it by ear this time?”
“Just creating weapons, after I get an estimate.”
“An estimate on what?”
“Weapon types, the usual.”
“What do you mean by that, exactly?”
“An amount for each type of weapon that is ordered,” Hammer Strike clarified. “They have a rough estimate in numbers. Now they just need to mark a weapon preference.”
“Glad to see you guys working things out, but I think we should consider the task at hand. Are you starting to get a good idea who here will work for which group?” Grif asked.
“I’ve got an idea for a majority, but there are some cases I need to look into personally,” Hammer Strike replied, before giving his usual soft hum.
“Yeah, I’ve got a few names we should look into. And I’m willing to bet a few of ours match. Should we send them off to the showers, then?” Grif asked.
“I concur. Give them a reason to worry during chow,” Pensword smirked.
“Then let it be so,” Hammer Strike said as a hint of a smile pulled at the corners of his lips.
“Captains,” Grif shouted to the Shield brothers, who stood not far away from them, “we’ve seen enough. Send them out!”
Blast and Tower immediately began barking orders to the recruits, who moved to follow them in a … mostly organized fashion. Several minutes later, the sparring field was filled with some of the more regular troops going about their normal training routines.
Pensword followed a Gryphon past another security checkpoint within Grif’s compound. He looked over the expert work on the stone walls and the place where the decorative carvings broke off into unmarked stone awaiting the touch of a stone mason’s talons. His feathers bristled slightly, but he was proud of how well he had managed to control his breathing as he passed by all the clan members. Unfortunately, that still didn’t keep his imagination from drifting towards suspicion as a sneaking feeling whispered they had taken him on a circular route, just to confuse him. Ridiculous, considering how he was deemed such a close ally and friend, but he experienced it, all the same.
Eventually, they reached a sturdy blackwood door, unadorned with any kind of carving or ornament, save for the clan symbol near the center of the top, where the Gryphon guide knocked three times.
“Yes? Who is it?” Grif’s voice asked through the door.
“You have a visitor. He insists on going through proper channels.”
“Well, send him in, then.”
The door opened and a rather tense Pensword slipped through. Only when the door had shut again, did the Pegasus finally relax. “I’m getting better,” he began sheepishly.
“I’m surprised you didn’t just request a meeting at my office in Unity.” Grif shook his head. “Is this private business?”
“Yes, because I don’t want any Ponies getting wind of this idea and reporting anything back to Canterlot. Basically, what I’d like to suggest is a sort of financial proposition.” He pulled a folder out from from under his wing and onto the table. “Here are the ideas, namely the invention of the paper clip, stapler, and staples. I’m also considering the possibility of carbon paper for the sake of making duplicates with typewriters, but the other three are the primary ones. They should all be forms of technology that would be able to fit seamlessly into Equestrian society without being too disruptive. It will revolutionize the paper and office supplies industries, but other than that, I don’t think it would do much more.”
“I would have thought you’d have taken this to Twilight first,” Grif noted as he took the folders and began shuffling through them.
“Yes, I will. It’s just, she will be wanting everything in order. She has enough on her plate at the moment with researching the EEA and the like. I’d rather not give more to handle and then see what an Alicorn running after a week without sleep is like.” He shuddered.
“Well, for starters, your numbers are a bit low,” Grif admitted. “For a loan this big, I’m looking at something closer to twenty percent.”
“Of the profit?” Pensword asked. “So, you’re saying everything else is about okay, then? This is good to also present to Twilight?”
“Honestly, you may have wanted to bring it to her first. She probably understands this better than I do. Still, you understand that means twenty percent on all profits. You make a hundred bits from this point on, twenty of them would be mine.”
Pensword frowned. “Well, I never talked to you about the core investment. I was putting this through you for if this was good to propose in the first place. It sounds good, from what you are saying. So I’ll ask you one more time. Can I present this to Twilight now, or am I missing anything? That eyebrow says I am missing something.”
“Pensword, what do you need the bits for? Just some extra plant or the business itself?” Grif asked. “Think on this, okay? If you don’t get the bits, can you make the business?”
“No.” Pensword furrowed his brow. “Wow. I ... I was always used to either being an employee or giving the orders, never building the actual structure. I know I wrote the rule book for the military, but the military is different from building a business.”
“So what you’re selling is potential profit, bits that your idea could make. For now, you need to focus on getting investments in your core, this means you need to convince people to take a risk on this. If you make money, then the investor makes money, and both are happy. But, likewise, if you lose money or the business tanks, neither side makes money. So the money you get could set you up for profit for as long as the business lasts. That means you’re selling chunks of that profit for just as long, savvy?”
“I think so. I’m just worried about folks using their portion to try to buy or freeze me out. I recall that happened to a good friend of my father’s, and the end result was they were homeless for a year. I want to avoid that.”
“Your risk, my risk,” Grif said simply.
“Yeah, but you get to fall back on your compound. Then again, I suppose I have my fellow Thestrals as well, so maybe that won’t be too bad, if it happens. Fires and a bad accident have forced some Thestral families to start over from nothing before, and the community rallies, so I guess something like that could happen again, if all else fails,” he mused.
“Pensword, my clan has a communal treasury,” Grif noted. “If I invest this money and your business fails, all of us suffer. Just like the battlefield, you need to trust. You need to risk. And sometimes, you need to be damned lucky.”
Pensword’s eyes widened in surprise, and he nodded. “Understood. I never realized you operated on that premise.”
“Well, you do now. Now, what are you planning to fashion the pens from? What materials are you planning to use? What's your environmental footprint?”
“Brass, with a metal casing. While a dip pen is good, I want to eventually get one of those gravity fed ink pens, made of metals, with more fancy ones being able to be custom ordered, provided that if they want precious metals, the cost goes up on a curve. But to start, we will have brass dip pens set into finely carved wooden bodies. The paperclips and staples will be sturdy metals.”
“I noticed you don’t have a viability survey. Did it get misplaced?”
“Viability plan is being conducted. Currently, the studies are being done in the Thestral lands. The first plan of action had a few line items that were … not very kind. Specifically a New Noble Tax and a Canterlot Business Office Tax equalling two thousand bits. That took off Sites A and B. The Thestral lands vitability plan was delivered last night. We found site F was the best course of action.”
“No.” Grif shook his head.
“No? What did I miss?”
Grif grabbed a quill and a piece of paper. Then he drew a circle on it and proceeded to slice it up like a pie, coloring in a single painfully thin slice. “That’s your profit demographic right now.” Grif tapped the colored-in area. “You’ve only confirmed the viability with one small fraction of the population. Right now, you’ve lost your investor’s interest and the bits you need. Manehattan, Whinnypeg, hell, Ponyville. These are places where you get your data from. That’s your customer margin. What is your potential customer base for this product? You need data from areas with mixed populations. That means no Canterlot, no Cloudsdale, and no Dream City.”
“Your not talking about land suitability and impact on the land? I thought that was a viability plan.” Pensword shook his head in utter beffudlement and plopped down on his rump. “Well, that’s one more round of surveys I’ll need to conduct, then. I just don’t have the money to run that kind of–.” He pulled himself up short. “You know what? Twilight would have fun running that kind of research.”
Grif shook his head again. “Twilight’s not the one hoping to start the business. Pensword is. You need to be on all levels of this. You can have help, yes, but you need to have firsthand knowledge of every facet of your proposal, so you can answer any question that pops up.”
“I’ll come back in a week, after I conduct this survey myself. I plan to have Ponyville, New Unity, and Manehattan.”
Grif leaned over and lightly tapped Pensword’s forehead “Now you’re thinking with what's between your ears. Right now, you are your image, as you are now. Not your reputation, not your career, and not your friends. You need to have confidence that you can answer any question presented to you and make it sound convincing. This is part of the reason Hammer Strike backed out, I’d imagine. I’ll help you, but I need a stable business model from you. Show me what the bits are worth to you, okay?”
Pensword nodded, his eyes afire with determination. “I will do so. It will take time. That is why I was trying to come to you two. You both are successful at business, while I am just starting. I need a mentor.”
“One more thing,” Grif said with a sigh as he pulled out a rather heavy sack of bits. “Go to Mayor Mare’s office first thing tomorrow morning, before you start the survey. Fill out all the paperwork and pay the fees to acquire the Equestrian patents. That’s Equestrian patents. You want international, you need to find the money yourself. But make sure you can say the patent is pending, before you start telling everybody about the product. It’s not cheap, but I’ll be damned, if I let this fall into Flim and Flam’s hooves, because you missed the important part.”
“I shall. I’ll even file for springs and, tentatively, the machines to make and form the staples. They should all be ready by this afternoon.”
Grif replaced the papers in their files, before he took another sheet and drew another circle. “When you come back, I want to see this turned into a color coded pie chart describing the potential profit percentage from each species you asked, understood?”
“I will.” Pensword nodded vigorously. “And ... thank you for helping mentor me, Grif.”
“You can thank me when the first check comes in,” Grif chuckled. “Now go on. I’ve got paperwork to finish.”
“You’ve got it, Grif.” Pensword picked up the bag of bits. “I need to get into Ponyville as soon as possible, anyways.”
Hammer Strike hummed to himself as he sifted through an assortment of documents on his desk. He was still adjusting to the idea of Silent Collector and Oracle going in and out of his office, though once he could fully match their walking patterns, he wouldn’t have much issue. As their job dictated, they came in and collected his outgoing papers, and would sort them out appropriately. While Oracle was obviously used to a different style of work, Silent Collector took the work in stride. Though the more Hammer Strike thought about it, the task of paperwork was probably a cakewalk for someone of Silent Collector’s nature.
“Sir?” Silent Collector spoke up as he entered the room with a small stack of papers.
“Yes?”
“I was sorting through these, and I was wondering if you could clarify something for me,” he said, placing the stack on Hammer Strike’s desk. It was about Stormwall Breaker, one of the recent additions.
After a moment of looking over the document, Hammer Strike looked up at Silent Collector. “And that would be...?”
“I was wanting to know what she looked like, just to make sure of something.”
“She had a brown mane, and her fur was a very light yellow,” Hammer Strike hummed. “Reddish brown eyes, quite serious looking. Now, why in particular did you want to know?”
Silent Collector gave a small smile. “She’s an old friend. We used to go to the same school in Canterlot.” He paused as he thought through his words, before letting out a heavy sigh. “I shouldn’t cover it up. She was part of our team as well, and I was wondering if, perhaps, you could … arrange a meeting? I want to catch up, without the worry of others listening in.”
Hammer Strike looked to the document once again as he chewed on the inside of his cheek. After a moment, he reached into his coat, pulling out a small yellow crystal. “Vital, could you head to Barracks number four and have Stormwall Breaker report to my office? And if necessary, could you guide her? Afterwards, you are free to return to whatever you were working on.”
The crystal flickered briefly. Then Vital’s voice rang back from within its depths. “No problem, boss. I’ll have her up there in the next ten minutes.”
Hammer Strike placed the crystal back into his coat, before returning his attention to Silent Collector. “You’re free to wait here or wherever.”
Silent Collector nodded. “I’ll finish up and wait in here.”
True to Vital’s words, Stormwall arrived to Hammer Strike’s office on time. She was equipped in one of the heavier sets of armor, though her weapons were either misplaced or she was just unequipped. As soon as she stood in front of his desk, she saluted him. “Lord Hammer Strike, you requested my presence?”
Hammer Strike nodded. “I brought you here by the request of one of my aids.”
Stormwall lowered her hoof and, despite trying to keep a strict presence, her curiosity broke through. “Who would that be?”
“That would be me,” Silent Collector commented from one of the corners of the room. “Hello, Stormwall.”
Vital Spark sighed as he looked out over the hills at Sweet Apple Acres. The grass shone glossily in the afternoon sun and the scent of the buds on the trees left just a hint of a floral aroma hanging in the air. It was calm, peaceful, the perfect place to practice. He smiled apologetically as he levitated black case off his back and flicked open the catches to retrieve the violin. Its pale white wood glinted with its clear varnish as he resined the bow and briefly plucked the strings to check their tune. Then he braced himself, raised fiddle and bow together, took a deep breath, and began to play.
The tune was lilting and almost playful in a way, but it had a sense of stateliness and solemnity about it that gave it an air of refinement, not unlike a fine wine. That didn’t last for too long, however. After about a minute and a half, the song transitioned into a series of deep, biting chords that repeated over and over again, almost like a rallying call, heralding something more to come. The notes began to jump back and forth again from the double base note to a swift series of higher notes on the other strings, all while gradually raising the base note one letter at a time to increase the tension, until it finally broke into a vibrant jig that rang and laughed as the notes spun through the air. The runes on the fiddle flared as they tied in with his magic, and Vital smiled as he spun around on his back hooves in a horrible pantomime of a jig. Fortunately, there was nobody around to see his foolishness, so he felt no shame in the act.
The air rang with the last note, and Vital Spark allowed himself a brief flash of vanity as he bowed deeply to his silent audience. A light breeze rustling through the branches was his only applause, or so he thought.
“Boy howdy, that was some good fiddlework,” a familiar voice said.
Vital Spark nearly dropped his violin at the sudden arrival, and he let out a brief cry of shock as he whirled around to see a familiar Earth Pony with yellow fur and a blue mane. Her white stetson radiated a brief halo in the sun’s rays, and her orange scarf complimented the worn green shirt she currently wore. “You startled me,” he gasped.
“Well, I’m an Apple, and this here is Sweet Apple Acres. Did you really expect one of us wouldn’t hear you?”
Vital Spark blushed. “I’d kinda hoped not to disturb you guys. It’s why I came to this part of the orchard. You … really think it was that good?”
Fiddlesticks nodded. “Been practicing?”
“I guess you could say more … recreating. That kind of music has a close tie to my family back home, so when I think about the notes, my magic channels it into my violin, and they just sort of come on their own.”
“Maybe you should ask a mugician about that?”
“Is that a real branch of magic here?” Vital asked, surprised.
“Well, keep in mind, I’m no fancy magic scholar type,” Fiddlesticks laughed, “but there exists a type of Unicorn, a rare type born with the ability to manipulate the magic in music. They can use rhythm to make things happen that wow most other Unicorns.”
“You mean like Vinyl Scratch?”
“You ever wonder why no one’s heard her talk?”
“I just thought she was born mute.”
“In a sense, she is. From what I’ve heard from the few times Tavi’s deemed to speak to me over the years, it’s a side effect of her musical magic being so powerful. Tavi claims she’s heard her sing once, but I don’t believe it.”
“Huh. Wonder why she never tried asking me about it before, then,” Vital mused. “Then again, I don’t know if she’s ever seen me playing like that before either.” He stroked his chin thoughtfully. “Thanks for the information, Fiddlesticks.” He smiled then. “I do have a bit of a question, though.” The violin whipped to his side, bow on the strings. “Care to join me for a spell?” And then he winked at her.
“I’d be happy to, but I’ll need to run back to get my fiddle.”
Vital smiled. “Mind if I join you? I don’t usually like being in the public so much, but playing for some fun with a friend is a bit different.”
“I’d be delighted.”
That evening, the song of two fiddles played passionately into the night, drifting through the barn and trees, and up to the moon and stars beyond.
Night Terror shuffled as the Thestral huntress looked her over. She felt like the mare’s eyes were riveted at the large welt on her neck. It seemed a rabbit had thrown a large rock at her, before taking off and returning to his hiding spot in the one place no Thestral was allowed to hunt: Fluttershy’s cottage and the surrounding land. She was never going to live this humiliation down. Beaten and foiled, her ears drooped the longer the silence went on, before her eyes drifted to the ground, a shameful blush rising to her checks.
The Thestral mare gave her a long hard stare, which lasted for roughly ten more seconds, before she broke into a chuckle, then a fit of giggles, and finally full blown laughter as she patted Night Terror’s back with a hoof. “It seems you had your first run in with the demon.”
“Yes a large demon,” she answered, hoping to cover her shame at least somewhat. The little monster certain glared like one.
“Dear, you have nothing to hide here. We’ve all run into the demon bunny before,” the mare chuckled.
Night Terror blinked her slitted eyes in surprise, finally taking enough courage to look her teacher in the eyes. “What is he?” she asked. “And how’d he become the pet to a fruit bat Thestral?” She muttered under her breath. “He seems more like a familiar than a pet.”
“Nature always finds a way. The mare is timid, so her pet acts as her protector.” The huntress smiled kindly. “This will teach you not to hunt so close to Ponyville next time.”
“I was in the border of the Everfree,” Night Terror said defensively. Then she frowned. “Unless I got turned around….”
“We’ll have to work on your sense of direction later, Night Terror. For now, it looks like vegetable stew for you tonight.”
“Sounds like a normal dinner back home.” She smiled, then sighed. “Still, I feel bad for failing you. I didn’t want to come back empty hooved.”
The huntress laid a consoling hoof on the mare’s shoulder. “Not every hunt is going to be successful. Some predators have to go for weeks without eating. In time, you’ll learn how to master your prey.”
“I’m a little conflicted on how to feel about that,” Night Terror answered. “I have fond memories of vegetable stew, but your tone indicates this is supposed to be a form of punishment.”
“Very observant, dear. While fruit is a treat, dishes that are solely composed of vegetables are considered to be a sign of a bad hunt. We let that alone be the lesson about why one must be persistent on their hunt.”
“I ... I’ll do better next time,” she stammered. “That is, … if you’ll have me. I don’t know whether you’ll have me learning something else tomorrow or not.”
The huntress simply smiled and shook her head. “We teach, until you get it right. Some skills just take longer than others to hone. We’ll make a competent huntress of you yet. You’ll see. Go on now. Off to your tent. We’ll call you when dinner is ready.”
Night Terror sighed and shook her head as she approached her tent, only to jump into the air and bleat, before landing flat on her back with her legs extended. She was swift to recover, but she most definitely was not amused. “Moon River!” she snapped. “Don’t sneak up on me like that.”
All she got back was a giggle and the playful exclamation of, “Boop!” before the small filly darted from Night Terror’s sleeping tent and back towards the castle grounds.
Hammer Strike tapped his hoof against his desk in thought. While most days left him fairly occupied, he found himself with an almost empty schedule today. His paperwork was complete, he was waiting for Me-Me to give him the number of weapons of each type she needed for her Changelings, and Dross was recovering from a lengthy forging session. Thankfully, the sound of talons was headed his way.
“Free to enter, Grif.”
Grif walked into the office. “At this point, I should expect that, huh?” he chuckled. “I have the reports on our current economic opportunities, merchants looking for a chance to move in to sell wares. You know, your basic stuff. I took the liberty of circling some that I think sound more promising than others.” He slid a few sheets across the desk to the Pony.
Hammer Strike took hold of the papers and began sorting through them. “Let’s see. General stores, an expansion to Quills and Sofas,” his eyebrows raised. “Huh, a café. Think that’s the only one of its kind on this list,” he finished as he cycled through the other pages.
“Also, Agil apparently has a wife back in Canterlot who is requesting permission to move their tavern to Unity.” Grif slid another sheet. “Would stop the men from clearing the cellars every time they need to celebrate.”
Hammer Strike hummed for a moment, before nodding. “That might be for the best. And a café might be nice for the atmosphere. And, you know, for those who’d like better brews.”
Grif nodded. “Most of them seem set up enough that all they need is land to work on. No need for additional capital, so we wouldn’t have to worry about people thinking you're investing your money in random businesses.”
“Yeah, that’ll be for the best.”
“The rest is mostly monthly reports on the wood intake, problems with the wildlife, stuff that’s pretty much already taken care of, and just here for filing.” Grif placed a few more sheets on the edge of Hammer Strike’s desk. “So–.”
A blazing purple flash suddenly blinded the two friends as Twilight teleported in hastily. She took a few moments to preen herself as Grif and Hammer Strike readjusted to the regular light again. “Grif, I came as soon as I could. I have–.” Her eyes furrowed in confusion. “Why are you two holding throwing knives?”
“Twilight, we have both been through the battlefield several times.” Grif had just a tinge of a growl to his tone as he sheathed the blade. “Since you’re new to this, consider this your warning. Don’t do that, unless you send some form of warning. Trust me, it’s rash action like that that’ll get yourself killed.”
Twilight gulped rather audibly as she looked between the two. “R-right,” she said nervously. “Um … as I was saying, I found that research you were looking for, Grif. Everything there is itemized with proper formatting for each of the original references.”
“You think this will be what we need to settle this?” Grif asked.
“We can only hope. I figure, if we put our heads together, after you review the material, we should be able to come up with a viable strategy. I have a few potential ones in mind, but I’d like to hear your take on the information, before we exchange ideas.”
“I’ll look this over and get back to you,” Grif said, taking the mare’s report, which seemed more like an encyclopedia, then stowing it in his pack.
“There is … another reason why I decided to come here directly, actually,” Twilight admitted sheepishly as he she looked Hammer Strike’s way.
“And that reason would be?” Hammer Strike raised a brow as he questioned, the dagger already returned to its hiding place.
“My research took me to the historical records at one point as I researching the founding of various bureaus and the like. One of them gave me a cross reference to a history book that I decided to skim over, after I found the pertinent information.” Her horn lit up and she levitated a perfectly rendered copy of an artist’s imprint portraying a stallion striking back a horde of enemies with a single punch. A familiar looking coat hung on a boulder nearby. “The resemblance is uncanny. And that got me thinking. Your coat stores all sorts of items in its pockets, right?”
“Correct….”
“So, that should give it a certain amount of weight, then. I was just wondering. If that is the case, then … have you ever tried fighting with it off before?”
“I tend to keep it on, but I do part with it sometimes.”
“When was the last time you tried?” she pressed.
“It’s … been awhile,” Hammer Strike hummed. “Why do you ask?”
She pointed to the picture. “I should think it’s pretty obvious. In every battle we’ve seen you in, we’ve never actually noticed you exhibit that much raw power before. If this really is a portrayal of you from a legitimate account of a witness, I’d like to see just how much of the data from his account is accurate.”
“If you’re wanting me to fight full out, we’d need something for me to fight.”
“Daww, our little Twilight’s growing up and starting to think like a real fighter,” Grif snarked, wiping away an invisible tear. “They grow up so fast.”
“We all know the only things right now that are durable enough to take a full force beating from you are probably Alicorns,” Twilight pointed out. “With your permission, I’d like to be your target.”
“No.”
“What?”
“Twilight, I’d potentially kill you. You aren’t built for this level of combat yet.”
“But, but … my research,” Twilight protested.
“You understand I’d potentially kill Luna as well, correct? I don’t fight all out for a reason.”
Twilight frowned as she puzzled through that statement for a moment. “Hmm. What about a simulacrum?”
Hammer Strike sighed as he knew the way this conversation was going. “How many can you make, and how active?”
“That depends on the quality of the materials and the number of copies you’re looking for.”
“Make a dozen. Two dozen, if you’re able. I can supply whatever materials.”
“Would you prefer if I made them copies of Luna for a better challenge?”
“It’s going to end the same either way, so it’s your choice.”
Twilight nodded. “All right. Give me about an hour, and I’ll have everything ready to go.”
Vital Spark knocked respectfully at his teacher’s door. “Clover, may I come in?”
“You may,” Clover answered.
The mare appeared to be taking one of the first breaks Vital had ever seen her on in quite some time. A large volume sat open in her lap as she sipped at her tea. A fire crackled in a hearth that hadn’t been there the last time he’d visited. “Is this a bad time?” he asked.
“Is it ever a good time?” she returned.
“That’s up to you to decide, I suppose,” Vital countered. “But since you’re offering philosophical questions, I’ll take that as a no. The really bad days, you’re usually ready to conjure a storm or threaten to castrate me,” he said as he strode over towards the fireplace to warm his hooves briefly in front of the logs. “I’ve come to ask if you have any reference volumes I might be able to examine about a unique brand of magic user called a mugician.”
“Oh. Taken an interest in music magic? I can’t guarantee you’ll get anywhere with it. It requires a certain amount of potential when you’re born,” Clover noted as she pulled several surprisingly small volumes from her books and floated them over to him.
“That little on the subject?” He raised a curious brow. “I thought scholars would’ve been all over it, considering it’s such a rare form of magic.”
“And the most powerful practitioners of it are either born mute or slowly grow mute as they get more powerful,” Clover sighed. “Older unicorns were so superstitious, they took it as a sign something was wrong with the practitioners, and they were usually shunned.”
“That bad?” Vital whistled, then paused as he tapped his chin. “Wait a minute, what about singers?”
“It’s been reported some of them could sing, despite the muteness, but it’s a phenomenon about as rare as a sonic rainboom.”
“So, does that mean that Sirens might fall under that category?” he mused. “Actually, are those even real creatures here? I mean, you’ve got manticores, Pegasi, Sphinxes, at least at one point, so why not Sirens, too?”
“Oh, Sirens were very real, but you won’t find them here anymore. They’re some other world’s problem now.”
“Eh?”
“Did you know Celestia picked up her ‘send the problem away and someone else can handle it’ approach from Star Swirl? He sent the sirens to another world, justifying the action in the fact that the problem was no longer Equis’.”
“So they were a real race, then.” Vital furrowed his brow. “Does that mean there’s such a thing as a dark mugician, just as there can be dark mages? I know darkness doesn’t necessarily mean evil, Clover, but you get what I mean when I use the term in this case, right?”
“There are dark mugicians, evil wizards, sorcerers of the darkness, liches, warlocks, renevents, and wraiths. If you think of a way magic can be abused, I guarantee there is at least one of them in history.”
“So, if that’s the case, then is that what the sirens were?”
“No.” Clover shook her head, summoning another volume and opening it to the illustration. “They weren’t even ponies, from a biological standpoint.”
“Then what were they?” he asked as he looked over the drawing portraying three colored Ponies with razor sharp teeth and purple, yellow, and blue scales.
“Well, I never got to finish my study. Kinda hard when the three subjects of said study are sent beyond the scope of this world. But from the notes I took, they were closer to Equinius Hippocampus in nature.”
“So, they were Sea Ponies?”
“No. Sea Ponies are, for the most part, a myth. Equinius Hippocampus was a species of Pony-like sea creatures who died out two thousand years ago. We have no proof they were intelligent.”
“Well, if they happen to be from the same era as Grogar, it’s possible they may have been,” Vital mused.
“Ah yes, Grogar, the infamous boogie man of history.” Clover actually chuckled. “Don’t forget to check under your bed.”
“As they said about Nightmare Moon, Discord, and just about every other evil sealed away to deal with about a thousand or so years later at the exact moment some chosen few need to face a challenge to ascend to a higher rank in power and responsibility.”
“I wasn’t around for Nightmare Moon or Discord,” Clover pointed out. “But for there to be a ram with powers of necromancy that powerful defies all the laws of magic.”
“Really?”
“In my travels, I’ve met a lich necromancer with powers I could not even begin to fathom. He taught me much of what I know about dark magic. Believe me. If Grogar existed, he is dead now.”
“Or bound in service?”
“Sometimes, it’s better to let beings die.”
“You won’t hear arguments from me on that one. I haven’t even begun to try researching that old goat, but I’m guessing he did a lot more than just enslave innocent Ponies.”
“He was a necromancer. He did what necromancers do. He was just a lot more craven in his methods.”
“... I really do have a tendency to lead us down darker paths in conversation, don’t I?”
Clover shrugged. “Necromancy is a dark art. The rules must be set by the one practicing it. And when one must make one's own rules, one quickly becomes corrupted. My teacher simply made his rules infallible in the only way he could.”
“How?”
“He found a being stronger than him and served him.”
“Just like that?”
“Just like that.” Clover nodded. “But you wanted to study mugicians, so I’ll leave you to your studying.”
Vital smiled as he turned towards the door. “Thanks, Clover. And just so you know, if you need anything, I’m always happy to try to help.”
As he left, Clover smirked to herself as she retrieved something from her robe. It was a small gold ring, modified to fit a horn, though it hadn’t been made for it. On one side, it contained a large oval-shaped blood-red gemstone with several black markings across its surface. She set it down gently beside her book, before returning to her reading.
“All right, Hammer Strike,” Twilight said as she stood on the far side of the training yard. Her horn lit up, and suddenly two dozen identical Twilights poofed into place in front of her, each bearing a combat focus of their own. “We’re good to go,” they chorused together.
“No, you’re not,” Hammer Strike muttered as he removed the buckle of his coat. The heavy material fluttered as he pulled it off, tossing it to fall to the side. Like all objects under Gravity’s influence, the coat fell at the same rate any normal item would. However, the moment that fabric made impact, the ground cracked, and then the stone broke apart into broad hoof-sized chunks that exploded into fragments, sending a towering dust cloud flying into the air. When the dust finally cleared, Twilight and her copies stood aghast at the display.
“How–? What–? What the–? How is that even possible?”
“Slowly adding more and more to his stockpile, he never realized the coat was getting heavier, because the weight always seemed negligible.” Grif shrugged. “Best theory I’ve got.”
“Come now, Twilight,” Hammer Strike called out. “Focus on me. If you want me to fight fully, then give me something worthwhile.”
The Twilights all gulped, then set themselves up determinedly. They nodded once, then flashed around the arena to different points to avoid getting caught in a cluster.
…
And then the carnage began.
Hammer Strike started the festivities by taking off with a boost of speed that took Twilight completely off guard. He ran up to the closest doppelganger and flipped over her, nimbly dodging her spell, before hitting her in the back of the neck, forcing the doppleganger to shatter. By then, he’d already turned his attention to the next copy. This one had slightly more time to prepare, and Hammer Strike dodged several spells, before reaching her and grabbing her horn. He yanked backwards, causing a sickening crack, before the clone fell to the ground, disintegrating into dust.
By now the remaining copies had grouped up and were attacking him en mass. A few spells even managed to hit him, but their effect, if any, was negligible as he moved in. He grabbed a pair by the back of their necks, turned them to face each other and slammed their heads forward, each skewering the other through the eye with their horns. A few of the copies managed to surround him, and were using what magic they had to teleport away as he ran in to strike. However, this was short lived as Hammer Strike adjusted to their plan. As one of the clones teleported away, he turned and stuck out his hoof just before the next clone materialized, his hoof now firmly within her chest. With an almost effortless twist of hoof, he smashed her heart, while simultaneously ripping said hoof out of her chest cavity, and moved on. This continued for another two minutes, the twenty four original copies being quickly cut down to seven.
Grif crunched a handful of popcorn as he watched. “Still sure Alicorn durability would be enough?” Grif asked.
Twilight was busy scrawling hastily on a notepad as fast as her hooves would allow. “Well, clearly I was wrong there, but would you just look at all this data? I’ve never seen him move so quickly before! It defies every norm Equestria has ever recorded before, well, barring that one entry I found, obviously.”
“This is why I’d never want to face him going all out,” Grif noted. “With the coat on, he isn’t as agile. That’s really what gives me any chance: agility, not speed. But like this, I wouldn’t stand a chance.”
“I doubt anypony would,” Twilight said.
“Never think like that.” Grif tapped Twilight’s horn. “There is always a bigger fish out there somewhere. Always keep the possibility that someone can beat the best fighter you know in your mind. You won’t get surprised that way.”
“And if something actually does come along that can beat him?”
“Then you duck and cover for whatever plan he has to deal with it,” Grif chuckled.
Hammer Strike had one copy by her mane now, and was using her as a makeshift club. Sickening cracks and thuds could be heard as three more Twilights shattered before the one in his hooves did. The last three charged him en mass, attempting to impale him on one of their horns. Hammer Strike ducked beneath them and landed a single punch square in the chest of each clone, before ducking low enough for them to pass by. They stumbled several steps, then fell dead to the ground, leaving Hammer Strike alone in the arena.
“There,” Hammer Strike commented as brushed off his shoulder. His coat was somehow already equipped once again. “Satisfied?”
Twilight nodded her head slowly, accompanied by a rusty creaking sound.
“Good.”
“But if a one should free him, despite the vengeful odds, then with that one will truly come the twilight of the gods.”
Grif woke up panting, covered in a cold sweat as the echoes continued to play in his skull. The words of the prophecy rebounded in his mind again and again. Careful not to wake the others, he slid from his wives’ embraces and out of bed. He stopped only long enough to take the stone tablet from its chest. Then he left the room and out a window to the roof. Holding the tablet in his talons, he stared down at it.
“What does it mean?” he asked no one in particular.
“He always seeks to tempt the one to whom his brothers speak.”
This line was, by far, the most troubling. Grif knew full well it was talking to him specifically. He was the Avatar, the last link between the Winds and Gryphonkind, and he’d tasted of the power of the gale. Even here, in the calm of the night on the roof of his house, he could feel that dark thrumming on the edges of his soul. He’d made peace with the beast long ago, but the Gale was another matter. The Dark Gale had no body now. It had no child to embody its will, but unlike it’s siblings, it was not cut off from the world. It wanted a mantle. It wanted a being through whom it could work it’s will, and that's what scared Grif the most.
Still, the problem with prophecies was their clever use of tricky wordplay. This prophecy had said the Dark Gale had been locked up for actions foul and fair, implying a duality to the deity, a great possibility for good. And the final line stated that releasing the Dark Gale would bring a twilight of the gods. Twilight could be considered a bad term in many ways, but it could also be used to imply great beauty, a time of peace before a new day dawned. Grif growled and shook his head. He looked at the tablet again. “If you are so wise, prophetess, tell me what I should do. You left this for me to find, so what is your answer?” He dropped the tablet in front of him, and was surprised to hear a metallic clink. Curious, he picked the tablet up again. There, on the shingles of the roof beneath, lay a small silver key. A large, perfectly rounded onyx stone lay at its head, and ancient runes had been inscribed along either side of its body. The word choice stared up at him, glinting in the moonlight. When he flipped it over, destiny stared him square in the face.
Grif turned the tablet over and found no indent or mechanism that could have dropped it. He picked the key up with trepidation. “Well, that's fantastic,” he muttered as he clutched both tablet and key to his chest.
Extended Holiday Ch 140: To Dance the Dance Act 22
Pensword was busy wrapping up his evening in his private underground exercise chamber. A small pile of crystals lay in a padded basket, while he worked to thread the energies together into something new. The familiar sound of talons clicking on the rough cobblestones outside alerted him to his visitor, and he slowly released his hold on his field. “Come in, Grif. I wondered when you’d come by to pick up today’s crystals.”
“You’ve been working steadily,” Grif said as the door creaked open and he eyed the pile of thaumic crystals. “You have shape okay, but you should work on size. These,” he held up one of the crystals, “aren’t going to be doing much to strain you anymore.”
“Do you mean bigger or smaller, make them spikey, what?” Pensword asked. “Also, I thought I felt Whirlwind's wing touch my neck today. You told me to tell you everything that I experience while doing this, so there’s my report.”
“I wouldn’t put too much scope into that just yet, Pensword. Our eyes tend to fool our brains, so it may have been a simple mirage of your nerves. As for your crystals, try to make them big enough that they start to become tiring. Just like working a muscle, you need to keep the strain going.”
“And making them other shapes?” he asked again. “I’ll start the strain at my thirty minute mark tomorrow morning,” he promised.
“Remember, part of this is your willpower.” Grif opened his hand, producing a heart-shaped yellow crystal. He closed it and opened it again. The crystal was now a traditional diamond cut. With another go, it was spherical. “It’s not that difficult in comparison.”
“Well, I never tried other shapes, so I’ll make sure to incorporate that aspect into my morning exercises and save the size for the evening.”
“Remember, what's important is building up power for now. You can experiment with shapes later. Trust me on this.”
“Okay.” Pensword sighed. “I just … I can’t stop worrying about this, even though I know I need to put that feeling aside.” He frowned. “I still need to talk to Hammer Strike about what I saw in the cognitive plane, too. That shadow.” He shuddered. “I’ve been lying awake, thinking and playing back that battle. That power scared me, Grif. It still scares me.”
“Are you afraid of your hatchet?”
“Grif, I already know where you’re going with this,” Pensword said.
“Do you cower before your own bow?”
He took some time to choose his words. “Grif, right now, I’m seeing what that shadow could do as worse than what we could use the atom for on Earth. All the dead and those wraiths, my family, denied their rest in the glens? That is horrible, the blackest of sins. I know the good that can come from the power. I just–.” He sighed and shook his head in disappointment. “I’m shaken, Grif.”
“This is a tool, Pensword,” Grif stressed again, “a weapon. Like any weapon, it can be dangerous in the wrong hands. Ignorance is danger. This weapon has been given to you. You didn’t ask for it, but it has been. Now, are you going to stand there and play around with it like a foal who swings an axe, until they lop their own leg off, or are you going to learn to use it like a soldier?”
“I am learning how to use it as a soldier. I’m better than last month, but I am not happy with where I am. I’ll be getting better. As my teacher, you need to know where your student stands in progress.” Pensword sighed and relaxed the wings he’d just splayed. “I hope I’m making sense.”
“Yes, but where you are isn’t enough right now, Pensword.” Grif sighed in return. “You need to start pushing yourself. Sustaining the muscle isn’t enough; you need to strengthen it, or else there is no point.”
“Thank you,” Pensword answered. “I was feeling like it was getting easy for the last two days, but I didn’t want to risk tearing the muscle, just because the strain was getting easier.”
“This isn’t physical muscle, Pensword. This is an energy field surrounding your person. As soon as it gets easy, that's a sign you need to find a way to make it hard again. Easy is your enemy. Got it?”
“I do. Is this how Unicorns feel? I hate to say it, but after all this time, this still feels new to me.”
“No, this is how a thaumaturge feels.” Grif shook his head. “This is power most Unicorns would drool over.”
“Ah. Once again, no point of reference.” Pensword shook his head and sputtered. “Still, uh … maybe I could put off letters for thirty more minutes?” Pensword suggested tentatively.
“Lets just work on seeing where your new limits are. Now brace yourself, Pensword.” And so the lesson began.
Baron Blueblood looked up from the most recent letter he’d received from Night Terror. He steepled his hooves as he pursed his lips in thought, surrounded by the gentle ambience of the crackling fireplace in his living room. A goblet of sherry swirled gently in his magical grip as he pondered the situation. From what she had said, Pensword was clearly worked up over the age clause. Even if Equestria were to regain its military, as the princesses wished, the half-breed wouldn’t be eligible to serve. That being said, it may not always remain that way.
“Yes, something will need to be done about this … storage business,” he mused. True, his own sources had managed to bring news faster than the mare had, but she did still manage to give him a glimpse into the minds of his enemies, and that was an advantage in and of itself. The question now was, what to do about this financial venture? The land belonged to Hammer Strike. Any tax revenue would go directly to him, and while they were already technically enemies, to go into an all out strategy against the area would be utter financial suicide. And considering the … unique creations that Earth Pony managed to forge for his ships, arranging for any “accidents” would prove most difficult, if not impossible, not to mention the strain it would place on Blueblood’s financial resources.
Blueblood took another sip of his drink, then rang the bell to call the servants. It only took a matter of moments for a tall, reserved Pony with a steely mane and a light gray coat to enter through the door. His suit was carefully pressed, and his bowtie was immaculate.
“Ah, Top Brass. Just the Pony I was hoping to see,” Blueblood smiled at the servant.
“I always aim to please, Sir. In what way may I assist you today?” His tone was dry and dusty with just a hint of a groan to it as he spoke in a formal High Canterlot accent.
“Send a message to Penny Pincher, the Cloak and Dagger twins, and King Pin. I have a proposition for them and their guilds that I would like to discuss.”
“At the usual establishment, Sir?”
“Naturally. I’ll have their usual tables waiting for them.”
“Of course, Sir. You may need to arrange to pick up some new tokens as well. We appear to be running low.”
“Running low?”
“Well, Sir, much of your,” Top Brass cleared his throat, “contacts don’t seem to be replying to their summons. It may be something you could use as leverage with your … associates.”
“Acquaintances, Top Brass. Acquaintances,” Blueblood said firmly. “Associates implies a connection, and we don’t have any connections to such elements, do we?”
“Of course not, Sir. If it please you, Sir, it seems that certain of the lords and ladies in your party have also been experiencing similar difficulties. Perhaps you should wear your new bowler cap to this dinner.”
Blueblood raised an eyebrow as he looked over his head butler. “Hmm. Yes, perhaps I should, at that, if the others are facing similar difficulties. It’s always good to enter these sorts of meetings from a position of power. I’ll take your suggestion under advisement. Thank you, Top Brass. That will be all.”
Top Brass bowed. “Of course, Sir.”
When the Pony had left, Blueblood looked over the letter once again. “Now then, what to assign you next?” he pondered as he levitated some fresh parchment, a pen, and an inkwell over. “Decisions, decisions.”
“And that's everything,” Grif finished as Kalima held the key in her talons. “I’m not sure what to do. I lack the wisdom to see the path here.”
“And you think I do?” Kalima smiled wryly and shook her head as she strode over to her great chair by the fireplace. “I’m an old one, Grif, but I’m far from all knowing. No, this is a mystery that you’ll have to unwind for yourself.” She flapped her wings briefly to settle gently into the chair, then turned the key over. “Knowing you, things will likely reveal themselves in due course, probably after a great battle of some sort. You seem to have a rather bad habit of attracting those kinds of things,” she chuckled.
“Aren't all the great songs sung of such Gryphons?” He gave her a half grin. “I don’t expect some miracle answer from you, just perspective. You know, as well as any, the tricks of the prophets’ words. Do I need to free the Dark Gale to free the gods or would doing so destroy the gods?”
Kalima shrugged. “I don’t know, Grif,” she said simply. “Both interpretations are equally valid, until you make the choice.”
“So, it will all come down to what my gut tells me?” he asked.
“That depends on whether you listen to it or not,” she pointed out. “But yes, the choice is clearly yours and yours alone. Like it or not, the fate of all Gryphonkind will be in your hands.”
“You know, it would be nice not to be the center of our race’s future once in a while,” Grif chuckled dryly. “What happened to the Sphinxes, anyway?”
“Nobody knows. Most people think they went extinct a long time ago. Our cousins were a rather strange people. Faust wanted to make them more focused in magic and mental pursuits to avoid the same ‘mistake’ she made with us.”
“Was she still not aware it was Sleipnir who meddled with us?” Grif asked.
“Quite possibly. Who are we to know the minds of the gods? That’s the territory of their prophets and representatives. People like you,” she said as she winked playfully, before pouring two cups of tea and passing one of them to the younger Gryphon.
Grif took the proffered cup, nodding respectfully. “Let's hope they made the right choice.”
“You haven’t led us wrong yet,” Kalima pointed out as she sipped placidly at her tea. “I take it you’d rather I keep this little conversation between us for now.”
“I appreciate your discretion, as always.” Grif took a sip of the tea. “A different blend. You’ve been working with the traders that came a few days ago?”
“Actually, it was a gift from Cheshire. When I asked her where she got it, she simply answered with something along the lines of … you do not mess with Uncle?”
“That's her, all right,” Grif chuckled. “Is there anything you need?”
“I’d say we’re doing fairly well for now. Pinkie Pie was just here to drop off another shipment of baked goods. She really is very good.”
“Yes, and she’d be an unstoppable assassin,” Grif sighed. “I’m just glad that's not on the table.”
“It’s not in her nature.” Kalima shrugged. “Well, at least for this side of her personality.” She took another sip of tea.
“Let's hope that side stays dominant, then. Anyway, I should be heading out. I have things to do.” He held his hand out for the key.
“Take good care of it, Grif. It’s the only one of its kind,” the old one said as she laid the key gently in his talons.
“I’ll guard it with my life.” He stood up and drained his tea cup, before setting it down. “I hope your day goes well.”
“Watch your back, Grif,” Kalima warned. “Even families fight sometimes, and this is something that could spread more than ripples.”
Grif nodded grimly. “Thank you. I’ll keep that in mind.”
The following three weeks saw most of Unity fall back into their daily routines. The apprentices were slowly growing in their skill as the three smiths led them step by step through their training. Recruits were often up at all hours of the night in surprise inspections or special exercises, leaving them with little to no energy as they fell back into their bunks dead on their hooves and aching from every muscle at once. However, unlike most other days, the dawning of the first day of the fourth week after the end of the Changeling attack saw a train at the station waiting for a small entourage to journey towards Canterlot.
Pensword stood in his full dress uniform, including ribbons, medals and sashes as he oversaw the loading of the train. A recently built crane was loading the first in-house forged cannons. The smith had borrowed his design from the classic Napoleon-era bronze cannons back on Earth. Once it was properly loaded with passengers and supplies, the engine would be able to begin its return journey to Canterlot. The Pegasus was busily scrawling along his checklist as weapons, drafts, models, and various other military supplies were carted in by strong-backed Earth Ponies. In three days, Luna would be presenting the bill to the first ever combined court of nobles, and he wanted to make sure security was as tight as he could manage it, even if he couldn’t serve actively anymore.
“Good,” he muttered as he checked another box. “The cadets are doing well loading the train.” Said train was another proof of concept forged and paid for by Luna, after the first Changeling attack on Canterlot. He thought back to that first battle so long ago, and sighed wistfully. It still pained him that even after three weeks of his own personal bootcamp, it would be looking like his time shaping the military was over. He frowned as the last report from this morning seemed to hint at some problems in the storage warehouses. A small fire had been put out, but about two hundred bits of product had been destroyed. The investigation was still ongoing, but thus far, the perpetrators seemed to have been too careful.
“And here we are, on another trip to Canterlot,” Hammer Strike muttered stormily as he approached Pensword from behind. He sighed softly as the clatter of other hooves and the familiar clicking of talons alerted Pensword to his other friends’ arrival.
“Well, at least this time we can take weapons,” Pensword responded, not even bothering to look up from his clipboard.
“You couldn’t before?” Vital Spark asked.
“Back when the Royal Guard were competent, you couldn’t bring weapons inside the palace without previous permission,” Grif explained.
“And you’re looking at the three outside of the two princesses that could bring them in. Hammer Strike has it, and Grif and I worked hard to earn that right.”
“So, does that mean I can’t, or is it that I wouldn’t have been able to back then?” Vital Spark asked.
Pensword gave a long hard look over Vital, before turning to Grif. “What do you think? Personally, I’d say maybe a Thestral meat knife.”
“Please. My girls play with more deadly implements. Keep your toys.”
“Really? I thought for sure you’d know I taught him at least sixty ways of using a Thestral Meat knife to defend and attack,” Pensword said.
Grif searched through his pack for a minute, before pulling out kurkuri. He looked at Vital, then the knife, and back and forth a few times, before shrugging and handing it to the Unicorn. “Keep this on you. Be ready to use it.”
“Are you saying Watcher won’t be enough?”
“I’m saying that possibly the largest weak point House Strike currently has is going to be open now. I’d rather be sure you have something that doesn’t need magic, just in case.”
“Ouch. Blunt, but fair.” Vital seized the weapon with his teeth and placed it in one of his packs. “Though just to make a point, I do know how to wield my staff without magic.”
“Yes, but your staff requires at least four feet of clearance to use effectively. That knife needs a foot,” Grif said bluntly.
“And once again, logic prevails.” Vital nodded. “I’ll keep it close.”
“Also, I don’t see your holster. Get it out of your pack and strap it on,” Grif ordered..
“Um … I kinda didn’t think to pack it,” Vital said.
In rapid succession, Vital found himself feeling the back of Grif’s talons and the side of Pensword’s wing, while Hammer Strike stared on, the very picture of disappointment.
“I thought I was supposed to keep it hidden from most other Ponies,” Vital said as he nursed his smarting cheeks.
“Not seen, as in, still on your person,” Hammer Strike explained.
“... Oh.” Vital Spark opened his mouth for a time, took a breath, then thought better of it and let it drop.
“Go home and get it, Vital,” Grif said.
“Won’t the train have to leave, before I get back?”
“Pensword will keep it delayed, until you return. Isn’t that right, Pensword?”
“We can’t leave without one of the prime pupils from Clover’s mage school. You’re on my checklist, Vital Spark. You should probably try to use a teleport or two to speed things up. Tick Tock. The route’s being held clear for us.”
“... Pensword, I love you like a brother, but sometimes you can be really annoying,” Vital deadpanned, then sighed. “All right. I’ll be back as soon as possible.”
“Good. We’ll be waiting.”
“How about I help you?” Twilight offered. “That way, you won’t have to take as much time.”
Vital Spark smiled gratefully at the princess. “Thanks, Twilight.”
And that was that. In a matter of minutes, the pair had disapparated and apparated back again, allowing the train schedule to move ahead relatively uninterrupted. “So, is there anything else we need to do, before we go?” Twilight asked.
“We all get on the train and sit down,” Pensword said. “Everything is secured and accounted for. We’re ready to journey to the castle.”
“I have to admit, I’m looking forward to seeing Celestia and Luna again.” Vital smiled timidly. “Not so sure about some of the rest of the court, though.”
“Just ignore them, unless it’s a threat to your life, and you’ll be fine,” Hammer Strike commented with a shrug.
“And I suppose I could always threaten them, if I wanted to,” Vital mused. “Clover seemed to enjoy doing that last time.” He flinched as he noticed Hammer Strike’s gaze harden. “Then again, I’m not exactly an accomplished mage with extreme combat training and knowledge of multiple magical arts, including lost branches.”
“Stick to what you know. If they give you grief, we’ll help out. We stick together,” Pensword said decisively.
“That’s what friends do best,” Twilight agreed.
“You think we’ll have enough votes?” Vital asked.
“We’ll have enough time to do some last minute talks and politicking. A few gentle reminders of our little demonstration from before should be enough to sway the ones who are starting to lean back toward our side. The real challenge will be thwarting any attempts the other side will make to do the same,” Pensword said.
“And that is why I never ran for office back home,” Vital muttered.
The train let out a loud whistle as the stack began to chuff out its steam and the carts jerked forward. A few minutes later, they were running full speed for Canterlot.
The cavern was as cold and stark as they remembered it as the train finally came to a halt at the train station. A line of Solar and Lunar Guardsponies had lined up along either end of the platform as they saluted towards the train. Celestia and Luna stood side by side as they gazed on the train and smiled.
“Welcome back, everypony. I hope your trip was a smooth one,” Celestia said with that same warm smile she had perfected over the last thousand years or more in her rule.
“Boring as well,” Hammer Strike commented as he stepped off the train.
“Needs a murder or something,” Grif said, cracking his neck as he followed after.
“I’m afraid you’ll need to save that for the Arabian Express,” Celestia said with a playful smirk.
“Besides, won’t there be enough room for intrigue later, with all this political stuff going on?” Vital asked.
“Please don’t remind me,” Grif sighed.
“Security nightmare?” Vital surmised.
“Oh boy, yes,” Pensword responded. “The boring trip here was a cakewalk. It’s almost guaranteed to get bad, before it gets better. I hope you’re not offended, Princess Celestia, but considering the nature of the cargo we’ve brought with us, we would prefer to have guards from the Lunar Court and the trainees from New Unity watch over things here.”
“We’ll need to at least have a token presence from the Solar guard as well, Pensword, if we’re to show a sign of unity. That being said, I understand your hesitance, which is why I’ve arranged to keep it at just a token and nothing more,” Celestia promised.
“Of course. Maybe we can instill a little training in them, while we wait,” Pensword mused as the train began to unload. “I wonder how … similar this is going to be compared to politics a thousand years ago.”
“Considering the importance of this bill, I would think it’ll probably be incredibly similar,” Vital noted. “Both sides have a lot to lose.”
“Murders, blackmail, intrigue, political ‘guests,’” Grif said with a grin. “I mean, three people tried to poison Hammer Strike on the train ride here alone.”
“Adds a nice flavor to most drinks,” Hammer Strike shrugged.
“Seriously? Already?” Vital Spark sighed and shook his head. “I don’t know why that even surprises me anymore.”
“Well, one of those was because I realized I had some poison stashed in my pack, so I just dumped it into Hammer Strike’s cup to get rid of it safely,” Pensword said.
“You do realize it wouldn’t affect you either, right?” Grif asked.
“Say what?” Pensword balked. “You mean to say I have the same ability to resist poison as Hammer Strike?”
“I mean, I wouldn’t go downing a gallon of neurotoxin or anything, but the field will generally filter life-threatening elements for you.”
“Minor toxins, to be exact. For the more potent ones, you need to understand them further. That’s how your field is able to determine the risk and need to remove,” Hammer Strike clarified.
“Thank you for that nugget of information,” Pensword muttered.
“Hey, better learning late than never, right?” Vital asked.
“Not when the subject can kill you,” Grif said.
“... Point.”
Pensord hid a smirk behind a wing. “Well, shall we start moving things or leave it for the guards to finish?”
“I think it would be best to get you all settled in,” Luna said pointedly.
“I assume the troops know where to move the weapons?” Vital asked.
“They should. They were briefed on it,” Pensword replied.
“Then I guess we take Luna’s advice. Where to this time, Princesses?” Vital asked.
Despite what many, many Canterlot people would have one believe, there was, in fact, a series of slums in the great city. A small rundown section of the city that recieved the lowest priority, due to the houses mostly being owned by servants or bankrupt lower nobility. The houses where small, and usually pushed uncomfortably close to one another. Small shops of various kinds lined the street, occasionally punctuated with a bar or tavern. The people here, however, were noticeably different from the elites of upper Canterlot. For one thing, it was not strictly a Pony neighborhood. Families of Gryphons, Minotaurs, and even Zebras were seen dispersed throughout the area, going about their day-to-day lives. The attitude was also much friendlier as Grif, who was generally ignored or glared at in the upper Canterlot streets, received several friendly waves or good-days from people passing by.
The Gryphon in question scanned the shops carefully, eyes peeled for something yet unseen. “Now where are you?”
“You know, for a place that’s supposed to be slums, this place is really one of the nicest neighborhoods I’ve seen in this city, and that’s saying something,” Vital Spark said as he chewed happily on a barbeque stick one of the Gryphons had been selling at a stand.
“It’s a slum, because nobody here can go out and buy a yacht when they feel like it,” Grif chuckled. He came to a stop in front of one shop. The front window had been covered in a rather beautiful mural of an antique vase full of fresh flowers. It took only a moment for Grif to see what he was looking for among the various houses. “This is the place,” he said.
“Fortune’s Favors?” Vital asked as he raised a curious brow.
Grif opened the door and they entered the building. The shop was tiny and cluttered with nicknacks, vases, and other such rubbish labeled as antiques. Grif gave the room a momentary scan, taking in the clutter coolly as he looked for the currently absent owner.
“Is that a legitimate replica of the Cat of Khartoum?” Vital gaped as he raced to the display case, where the cat in question sat on a plush, albeit dusty red cushion.
“Indeed it is, my young friend. Good eye. Good eye,” a dusty gravely voice spoke up as a Unicorn walked into the display area from a unseen back room. He was taller then Vital Spark, nearly as tall as Grif. His coat seemed like it had once been a vibrant blue, but had faded with age. His horn notably curved upwards to the sky, marking him of Eastern descent. He wore a loose dark blue robe. “Not many your age would even know that name.”
“Let’s just say that ancient magical lore fascinates me,” Vital said with a smile. “By the way, excellent job on the warding spells. It took me a while to make out the runes along the framework.”
“Well, Nickel Deimos is not a fool. He is careful to protect his goods.” The old stallion chuckled. “But please, my friends, what may I do for you? Looking to buy? Looking to sell?” He eyed Grif carefully. “Something tells me you carry much history on your person,” he said as his gaze fell to Grif’s bag.
“I’m looking for information,” Grif answered, “preferably things involving the noble houses.”
“I’m sorry, my friend. I am just an old shopkeeper in the town slums. What knowledge do I have of nobles?” The stallion shook his head.
“I feel you might know more than you're letting on,” Grif chuckled.
Vital Spark eyed the pair carefully as he gauged the twin poker faces. The casual air of dismissal clearly hid something more guarded in the Unicorn’s response, and yet Grif remained completely nonplussed over it. How it would unfold, he wasn’t certain, but he looked forward to finding out.
“Once again, my friend, I’m afraid you are mistaken,” the stallion said.
“Perhaps I am.” Grif looked over to the cat. “May I?” he asked.
“Be my guest.” The stallion nodded, and Vital felt a spark of magic in the air as some enchantment seemed to power down.
Grif lifted the cat and examined it, though Vital could see the only thing he ran his eyes over was the rather exorbitant price tag. “A fine piece, though the price is a bit of a shill. Tell me, what would you say to a wager?”
“What sort of wager?”
Grif gestured to a small short table nearby that Vital realized was uncharastically open in the cluttered room. “A simple game. If I win, you give me this at half price. If you win, I’ll pay double,” Grif offered.
Vital could see the dollar signs appear on the stallion’s eyes as he nodded eagerly and moved quickly towards the table. Grif followed. Nickel dug around, before removing something from his pack. “I trust you’re familiar with Pai Sho?” he asked.
“Oh, I’ve played it once or twice,” Grif chuckled as he sat across from the stallion. The board was placed and the pieces sorted out. Grif took the first move, and instead of taking the tiles before him, he produced a single tile with three gouges on the rim and placed it directly on the center of the board.
The stallion’s eyes widened in recognition. “I see you favor the white lotus gambit. Not many still practice the old ways,” he said.
“But those who do can always find a friend.” Grif chuckled at the shocked stallion’s reaction.
“Then let us play,” Nickel responded. The two began, each moving slowly at first, but then placing tile after tile faster and faster, until the eye could hardly follow the blur of their movements. Finally, the last tile was smacked confidently in place, revealing the intricate pattern of a lotus in full bloom.
“Welcome, brother,” Nickel said gently. “The White Lotus opens wide to those who know her secrets.” Grif and the stallion gave each other a short bow.
“Now, brother, please tell me about the lords and their plans for the upcoming bill,” Grif requested. Nickel was only too happy to oblige as he began to explain the political climate of Canterlot. As the discussion wore on, however, Vital gradually lost interest, and inevitably found his gaze wandering back to the mural on the window. As he looked at the flowers, the one in the very center caught his eye. Curiously enough, it was a single white lotus, the only white lotus.
Pensword slowly stepped from the carriage that had whisked him from the house Grif had purchased during their last visit to Canterlot. The sky was alight with stars, and gentle orbs of light pulsed merrily atop twisting stone holders decorated with ivy and vivid red roses. The music was a simple and sedate, a perfect accompaniment to the prelude that was the guests’ arrival. This was a garden party that he did not dare decline, lest he appear too aloof to any fence sitters. To give the opposition any chance at an upper hand would prove most unwise.
His military uniform shone in the light of the orbs, making the golden cords and epaulets iridescent to contrast the deep navy blue of the jacket. A single sash curved over his chest, bearing the medals and honors he had accrued in his time of service, before returning to the present. Outside of the token force of guards wearing less ornate armor, he was the only guest wearing anything militarily related at all. His eyes drifted over the mansion and the patio where the festivities were taking place. A series of tables and chairs had been set up strategically to allow for optimal seating, and a patch of lawn had been set aside specifically for dancing. At last, he approached the host and hostess of the party.
“Duchess Ivy, Duke Rose,” he greeted the Unicorns. The duchess wore a green dress with embroidery designed to appear like streams of her namesake in full bloom. Her husband wore a white plain white tuxedo without the pants. A red rose with a white center sat in the lapel of his coat to serve as a boutonnéire.
“I’m so glad you could make it, Archduke,” Duke Rose said, putting on a debonair smile. “My wife and I have always wanted a chance to enjoy your company.”
“After all, New Unity seems to be the center of most events in the kingdom lately,” Dutchess Ivy added. “There are so many things we’d love to ask you.”
“Is that so?” Pensword asked with a raised brow. “I guess we have some time, after you greet the rest of your guests. For now, however, I’m sure you have more to welcome into your lovely home, and that buffet does look rather tempting.” He smiled politely. “I look forward to continuing our conversation later.”
“I hope you enjoy,” Duke Rose said in a kindly voice.
“Thank you,” Pensword responded and slowly made his way towards the buffet table.
“Greetings, Brother,” a large Pegasus stallion met him at the buffet table, holding a plate piled high with food. His coat was a metallic gray, somewhere between silver and polished steel, and his mane, tail, and beard were all a flaming red. He wore a rough woven tunic and a leather belt clipped at the side with the symbol of House Hurricane. As Pensword drew closer, a powerful wing clapped his back in a friendly manner.
“Ah, I’m guessing you’re a branch off the main line?” Pensword asked. “You must have really done your homework. Most of the history books don’t mention your house adopting me.” A slight smile crossed his muzzle in appreciation of the complement and acknowledgement of his status as a Hurricane, before returning to a neutral expression.
“Yeah, well, new social structure means new opportunities to climb, I imagine,” he laughed. “Firewater Hurricane at your service, lad.”
Pensword raised a skeptical brow. While Equestrians might not see any problems with this sort of interaction, his historical knowledge of Earth and the typical treatment of natives by settlers left him cautious. “What do you do for a living, Firewater?”
“I brew some of the hardest hitting whiskey in Equis,” he roared. “I also happen to be the last member of the Hurricane family you’d see here.”
“You’d be the last member? I must say, brewing whisky,” he marveled. “That alone would be cause to be regulated, back in the Third Gryphon War.” He chuckled. “I still remember how, sometimes, I’d be shown the servants’ door in back, despite my position.” He looked over the Garden. “Times are changing.”
“My popularity is more to the inability for others to social climb from the fruit of my loins than from my station,” Firewater admitted.
“Somepony or someone of the wrong station snared your heart?” Pensword asked curiously.
“Aye, my beautiful Nightglade,” he chuckled. “Her family were servants in the Crust estate. I decided to follow my heart. Sacrifices must be made.”
“Nightglade?” Pensword asked. “Either a night Pegasus or….” He paused. “How do the young say it? A bit of a bite?” He shook his head. “No, not going to make the mistake of other elders and try to use the words of today’s youth. Pegasus or–?”
“Celestia’s ruddy beard, lad. She’s a Thestral. No shame in that,” Firewater said. “No matter what these types say.”
“Well the phrase was from some of the new Smiths we got from Canterlot. They said they were from lower levels.” He shook his head, then laughed at his own silliness. After all, it didn’t really matter, if Firewater didn’t deem the tribal name as a dirty word. “And I am happy to see what we tried to start at the end of the war taking root now.” He leaned in. “Did you know I met the first Baron of House Blueblood and his wife?” he whispered in a conspiracy tone of voice.
“Oh, aye. She had a pair of ears on her, didn’t she?” Firewater gave him a wink. Clearly, the history wasn’t as well suppressed as some nobles would have liked.
“Oh, yes,” he replied. “Last report I heard before stuff happened, he was living like a Thestral chief.”
“Well how about that?” Firewater laughed. “Listen, Brother. Between us Hurricanes, be careful here tonight. Rose and Ivy there, their family’s entire aim for the last six generations has been climbing to new noble titles and powers. Be on your guard, if they mention children.”
Pensword raised a brow. “Brother, if they mention it, I will tell them one Thestral phrase that should quiet them and spread about. It is bad luck and very rude to even try marrying off unborn foals, since we don’t know the gender, and we know not if they will live past birth.” He chuckled. “Mind you, that was a thousand years ago, but it should hold true well enough in the present, at least for a subterfuge, if nothing else.”
“Yes, but unfortunately, everyone already knows you’re having a colt,” Firewater noted. “And it just so happens that those two have a daughter who’s only a few months old. You see my concern, brother?”
“A spy,” Pensword hissed in frustration. Then he sighed. “We had hoped this wouldn’t have reached Canterlot already, but if they ask, I’ll simply refuse them. If they keep pushing the matter, they’ll be barred not just from me, but any other nobles are willing to listen to my advice.” He nickered and shook his mane in frustration, and then the mood passed. It was time to move onto something more pleasant. “We have spoken about my family, but what about yours?”
“Well, you already know I’m a Hurricane. I’m also a proud father of seven fillies, two colts, and two foals on the way,” Firewater said, smiling like he could burst with pride. “Foals are beautiful, aren't they?”
“Very much so,” Pensword agreed. He paused. “Twins? Or are you a herd stallion?” he asked politely.
“Twins,” the stallion chuckled. “I’ve got enough on my plate with my Nightglade. Anyway, Brother, I’d invite you to come sample my wares, but word is you’re not one for the strong stuff. Still, if you ever need anything, don’t be afraid to ask.”
“True, I’m not for the ‘strong stuff.’ Hammer Strike, on the other hoof, I might be able to either have him come by or else invite you out to visit New Unity for him to sample them. And be sure, I will keep your generosity in mind, should I ever need something.”
Firewater nodded as he took his plate, which he had somehow managed to keep perfectly balanced the whole time, and left the table, navigating guests without disrupting a single crumb.
Pensword smiled as he worked to pile his own plate, keeping an eye open for any other Ponies that might be a little out of their league, so to speak. Much like Firewater, he stacked all the main entrees as the base, while stacking the lighter hors d'oeuvres on top. He sat down with care, but he could feel the eyes on him as he prepared to dine, and the sudden drop in conversation was a fair indicator that he wasn’t just being paranoid. He turned to face the individuals in question. “Please, don’t cease on my account. Continue.”
A mare, dressed in fine diamonds and silk scarf sniffed disdainfully. “And have some barbarian eavesdrop? Didn’t you eat before you came?”
Pensword paused as he used a small fork to spear one of the olives, popped it into his muzzle and chewed a few times. Then he swallowed and shook his mane. “Madam, I can tell you’re rather ignorant of my tribe, let alone of my culture. As such, allow me to offer you this small piece of enlightenment. When you host a party with a full buffet table, you should expect your guests to eat. In the case of Thestrals, it would be a terrible affront, if we didn’t finish every crumb by the end of the party. Wasting food is a terrible thing in our culture.”
The mare looked confused. “But the food is a sign of wealth and prosperity. Sure, the wait staff eats most of it after the dinner is over, but certainly not during. The food is laid out artfully, and there’s a certain order to how said food is grazed down.”
Pensword shrugged. “You don’t do that with meat. If you use warming enchantments to keep it hot, it’ll dry it out.” Then he face hoofed. “Did the caterers even know how to handle Thestral dishes?”
“Meat?” The mare balked as even more guests dropped their spoons to gape at the pair. Their eyes darted rapidly between Pensword’s and their own.
“Yes, meat. I see you ate half a leather fruit bat wing,” he noted as he pointed to a translucent leathery substance dripping with juices as it hung from a fork suspended in magic. The stallion holding the food in question suddenly paled, before his magic cut off, causing the fork and its cargo to crash with a tremendous clatter, before he fainted backwards, turning over his seat in the process.
The others in the table were quick, but exceptionally polite in their evacuation as they flitted to and fro among the other guests, most likely to warn them of what they had learned. Pensword smirked in satisfaction, then chuckled. “Panicky Unicorns. So much fuss over normal fruit leather.” He shook his head and took a bite of the strip, chewing happily, until a portly Unicorn in a white chef’s smock approached his table.
“You dare to mock my cooking?” he snarled in a thick Phrench accent as he tore the strip out of Pensword’s mouth.
“More like revealing that most of these Ponies can’t tell the difference from fruit bat leather and normal fruit leather, let alone that the strip you yanked out of my muzzle came from Sweet Apple Acres, while the the one that you are currently holding most likely came from Appleloosa.”
The chef narrowed his gaze suspiciously as he scrutinized Pensword. “How would you know?”
Pensword shrugged. “New Unity imports their apples from the Apple clansmembers all over Equestria. As a good Thestral who loves his fruit, I can taste the subtle differences. Most Thestrals can, actually, even as foals. For example, my daughter loves a good Manehatten grove apple, while the Canterlot Forest Wild–.” Pensword found his muzzled clamped shut by the chef.
“That grove is a closely guarded family secret. How do you know of it?” the Chef demanded as he released his magical hold on Pensword’s muzzle. He did not allow his horn to dim, however.
“Because I gave the seeds to the founder of the Apple clan in the first place. They originally came from the passes of my ancestral home.”
The Chef snorted and turned away as he patted a hoof on the back of a server who had just levitated Pensword’s plate into the air. The stallion had a pinched nose and a dark black mane with brilliant yellow eyes.
“Leave him be. He knows his food.”
“But, sir, he eats like a pig,” the server objected.
The Chef snorted. “And that’s how he knows. I eat from every dish I make to ensure the proper depth of flavor. Does that not qualify me as a pig as well?” He shook his head. “You still have much to learn, Gaston. Much to learn, indeed.”
Pensword blinked as the two Unicorns left him in peace, bickering back and forth. Pensword returned, or tried to return, to his meal, when a shadow landed in one of the empty chairs and a Thestral mare dressed in an elegant black evening gown fit more for a dance in a haunted mansion than this type of party. She carried her own sizable plate, her eyes and muzzle alight with suppressed mirth.
“Can’t beat a bear clan when it comes to tastebuds,” she laughed, giving him a respectful nod.
“Oh?” Pensword asked as he looked over the newcomer, a frown growing on his muzzle. “Don’t tell me that Canterlot frowns on Thestrals showing what clan they come from? Usually one can tell a clan at a glance.” His own uniform had threaded a bear claw through the Lunar Sash as an identifier.
“Sadly, no. Canterlot can’t be bothered to know the differences.” She smiled, lifting her left foreleg. The fur was bleached in the intricate pattern of a coiling serpent.
Pensword raised his brow in amazement. “An honor to meet a hoof of the Viper Clan in person.”
“The honor is mine, Moonkissed. I hope the moon and stars find you well.”
“And may the rays show the path through the trees,” Pensword replied in a formal exchange as old as the clans.
“So what is one of your class doing here tonight, if I may be so bold?”
“Princess Luna is here this time as well, and if we all avoid Canterlot, we shall forever have the divide of sun and moon, never the twilight that allows us to see each other’s worlds. I am here to teach Canterlot how to meet a Thestral without offending them, so we can avoid such a travesty.”
“Well, I wish you luck in that endeavor.” She nodded. “It can only help commerce, after all.”
“That, and it should see the need of many more merchants.” He smiled. “But I feel you didn’t just come to talk to me about my presence in Canterlot. But since the Viper Clan is already set up in New Unity, there’s no need to ask or negotiate. You have what you need already.”
“With all due respect, Moonkissed, I didn’t come here to see you. My business is with Lord Rose and Lady Ivy, regarding my wares.”
Pensword shifted a wing and placed a coin in front of the Mare. “My apologies. I thought poorly of you. Please, accept this coin as penance for my actions. It’s not a token, but it still entitles you to a favor, within reason. You can ask of me about it in the future.”
She took it with a nod. “So, then, you’re here for the bill?”
“Yes, I am. Though since I have you here, I can’t help but wonder, what have the rumors been saying?”
The mare chuckled. “Everything from the dawning of a new age to the ending of life as we know it. Both sides have to worry about numerous factions of their own.”
“So, there are factions within the main two camps?”
“Correct. And then there are those who are still undecided on the manner, nearly a third of the houses, to be exact.”
Pensword sighed. “We all have our work cut out for us to try to convince them, then.”
“I hope it works out for you, Moonkissed,” the mare said as she finished off the first half of her plate, then sighed as she looked over his shoulder. “Unfortunately, it seems our hosts want to speak to you alone.” Pensword turned around to see Duke Rose and Dutchess Ivy standing by a flower arrangement and making some effort to appear excited over the arrangements. Naturally, they failed miserably at it. The mare giggled once more, then winked at Pensword and vacated the table, carrying her plate with her.
As she had suspected and Pensword dreaded, the duke and duchess were over in a matter of minutes. “Good evening, Duke Rose, Dutchess Ivy,” Pensword greeted them. “I hope things went well for you on the welcoming line.”
“Oh, of course. It’s always nice to see old friends.” Duke rose nodded. “I hope you don’t mind the company?”
“Of course not. Tonight has been interesting, one to write about in my journals for sure.”
“I hope our little spread proved up to snuff,” Ivy said with a warm smile. “We like to try to cater to all our guests, even if we don’t necessarily have certain resources.”
“The spread was good. The culture was simply a bit surprising, but I wouldn’t fault any of the Solar nobles for not knowing how to handle a Thestral spread or etiquette. After all, you lot used to avoid us like a deadly disease.” Pensword smiled placidly. “I’ll be sure to have a dossier with proper etiquette for a host and guest in Thestral culture sent to you for the next time you invite the Lunar nobility. After all, it pays to be prepared, wouldn’t you say, Duke Rose?”
“Of course, Archduke. Preparation can change the circumstances of anything.”
“What of you, Dutchess Ivy? Surely you aren’t put off by the full plates of some of the guests?”
Ivy cleared her throat awkwardly. “More with those who make them into towers, Archduke. The possibilities of the havoc dropping a plate like that could wreak leave me … uneasy.”
Pensword chuckled goodnaturedly. “Ah, that. It’s an old custom among the young that sometimes carries over to the elders. Think of it as a competition of sorts, much like how the nobles of the Solar court compete by vying for influence and alliances to gain power or popularity. The taller the plate, the better you are than your fellows. However, no Thestral is to take more than he or she can stomach. Should the plate be dropped, it is also customary for the offender to clean up his or her own mess as an act of humility. That, and of course, it’s simply good manners. I find it saves more mess in the long run. No need to worry about pesky assassins or other such things.”
“I … see.” Ivy’s eyes darted off to the sides as she looked over the various Thestrals. “Are all Thestrals’ metabolisms so … accelerated?”
“Some, yes. Others simply burn the extra off in their daily routine.” Pensword rolled his wing tips into a shrug. “Still, some just do it for the fun. We’re just as varied and unique as the Unicorns here on Canterlot’s peak.”
“I suppose so. And now, with the Lunar Court, you all will have your own status as well,” Duke Rose said.
“A status that Princess Luna wanted to have put in place over a thousand years ago,” Pensword replied as a sad expression painted itself on his face. “Still, I look forward to this joint meeting, for us to come to an understanding and join in cooperation for the betterment of our kingdom.” Of course, Pensword had no such delusions about perfect unity, but if the nobles wanted to play, he’d show that he could be just as skilled.
“Of course,” Ivy agreed, “though I get the feeling opinions will likely differ as to what may be best.”
“Which is why we are meeting. I see the totality of the nobility as a big family. We will figure out what will be best for Equestria together. We’ll argue, and probably need several time-outs, but we’ll get there, eventually.”
“An … interesting description, Archduke Pensword,” Ivy said. “Where do you draw your inspiration from?”
“Real life. And a few Thestral meetings from my grandmother’s time.”
“I’ve heard you’re expecting another foal, a colt this time?” Duke Rose asked.
Pensword was at least happy they said foal and not foals. “Were you hoping to be present for their naming ceremony?”
“Their? As in plural?” Ivy asked.
“Well, we have foals from other families as well. It’s a very important time to gather, so there will be more than just one foal,” Pensword answered hastily. It was going to be hard enough as it was dealing with the proposals for one foal. He didn’t need more families hounding after the second.
“I … see. And this ceremony of yours. Is it anything like getting a foal blessed by one of Faust’s clerics?”
Pensword gave a befuddled look. “Perhaps,” he mused. It is difficult to compare the two properly, since my exposure to the church in my youth was … less than cordial. I haven’t taken much time to study the church’s teachings and ceremonies since. There were more important things to worry about.”
“If you should ever wish to learn, we happen to know of some priests and priestesses who would gladly offer some instruction in the subject.”
“I thank you for the offer. Maybe after this coming business with the bill. Time is a luxury I can scarcely afford at the moment,” he said diplomatically.
“Perhaps. Maybe we could meet up again soon, discuss matters that could be beneficial to the futures of both our houses?” Duke Rose asked.
“We shall have to see. The next three days are booked with the usual meetings and preparations. You know how it is here in the city. We’ll have to play it by ear, as the Thestrals say.”
“Of course. In the meantime, I do hope you enjoy the festivities. Do make sure to send our best wishes to your wife. Faust knows I know how difficult pregnancy can be sometimes,” Ivy said.
“I’ll make sure to do so. Thank you for your concern,” Pensword answered with a stately nod of the head.
“Well, we should be mingling with the rest of our guests,” Duke Rose said. “Please, enjoy yourself, Archduke.”
“You as well, Duke and Dutchess,” Pensword replied as he watched the hosts turn to slip back into the sea of party goers.
The air was dry, musty, and rank with the smell of smoke, rust, and tanned leather. Waxy tallow candles burned low, adding to the general miasma that was the atmosphere in the old bar. Battle-scarred Gryphons, gap-toothed Earth Ponies, and greasy-maned Unicorns eyed one another furtively as they mulled over their tepid brews. Far off in the distance, the glow of the upper districts flickered almost mockingly at the occupants, as if begging them to dare try stepping foot out of their grimy corner of the city. A cluster of Pegasi were busy wiping the floor with any contenders who dared to challenge them at dice, spinning the cubes on their feathers with relative ease as they sneered at the poor saps that dared to challenge them. A respectable sized sack of bits sat on the counter, glinting enticingly to any that dared to wish for any. The last remains of a roasted boar carcase leaned against the stones of the fireplace where it had been cooked, waiting for any last creatures that might wish to consume it. The flies hadn’t begun to swarm it just yet, though a peculiar buzzing sounded from a shaking tin that sat nearby as it trembled closer towards the food.
“Not yet,” the barkeep grumbled as he kicked the container casually with a hoof. “You know the rules, ya wily varmints.” His voice grated heavily, and an open bottle filled with a clear liquid that most certainly wasn’t water explained only too well how he’d acquired such a unique range. His navy blue mane parted evenly down the sides of his head, even as the greasy ends clung to his fur. His indigo fur was matted and unkempt as he took another swig from the bottle. His bloodshot eyes glared menacingly out over the gathering as he let out a deep, satisfied sigh and smacked a cracked and worn hoof on the counter.
The door to the tavern creaked open to reveal a clear night sky. A Unicorn with a lime-green coat and neon-pink mane stepped into the light. His muzzle was misshapen, practically deformed by a series of scars that lashed over his fur in mute testimony of whatever incident had led to breaking his nose in the first place. A rumpled cap that reeked of mildew was cocked jauntily over his brow, drawing the eye to a chipped and worthless bronze ring that sat on his horn. The metal had dyed green with age, and the mount had lost its jewel a long time ago, yet this Unicorn still wore it. A tired sort of laxity pulled at his gait as he shuffled forward, and his ratty coat was so worn, it was practically see-through. He smiled somewhat nervously, exposing a series of gaps where teeth had been. Others were either chipped or heavily yellowed. He dragged himself wearily to the counter and looked up to the barkeep.
“Welcome to Sprite’s Spritzers. I’m your host, yada yada yada.” The stallion waved his hoof back and forth, then leaned in to glare at the Unicorn. “I run a respectable business here.” Then he belched. “You bring your coin, pay up front, I serve you what you ask. Get in a fight, and you pay for what you break. Don’t matter who starts it. I finish it.” He took another swig from his bottle. “Now then. First n’foremost, if you got weapons, I want ‘em now.”
The Unicorn shrugged and pulled his coat apart to expose his fur. “I’m unarmed,” he said quietly.
The barkeep spat off to the side, then returned his attention to the Unicorn. “Wadaya want?” he demanded.
“I was asked to meet some folks here tonight,” the Unicorn said furtively as he glanced back and forth with narrowed eyes.
“Lots of folks come here to drink, friend.” The barkeeps tone implied the Unicorn was anything but. “I don’t wanna know what you’re tryin’ ta do. Just tell me who you’re gonna meet, and I’ll point you their way. Whatever happens after that is your business. Don’t drag me into it.”
“I have no plans to drag anypony else into this,” the Unicorn growled back.
“Sure you don’t.” The barkeep rolled his eyes.
“I didn’t get full names,” the stallion grated. “I was just told to say I’m here to see a one-eyed Gryphon with a chipped beak.”
“Then you should’ve led off with that one, shouldn’t ya?” The barkeep took another swig, then pointed to the far side of the tavern. “Far corner. The one with the black curtain. Ya can’t miss it.” He belched again. “You want something ta drink, just come up n’ order later.”
“I’ll remember that,” The Unicorn hissed as he struggled to maintain his composure. He turned and walked towards the curtain, an artful frown painted on his muzzle. When he reached his destination, he knocked on a post in a special rhythm.
“Shame about the weather today,” a voice responded. “Wouldn’t you agree, Mister Blank Slate?”
“Should have been snowing. Show the nobles how little they control,” the Unicorn replied.
A set of talons reached from behind the curtains and pulled the Unicorn in, roughly placing him on a booth just inside the curtain. “Didn’t your daddy teach you how to disguise yourself, boy?” a large Gryphoness growled down at him. Her left eye was covered in an eye patch decorated with a carefully embroidered skull. As the description had said before, the tip of her beak was chipped. “You look like a bucking neon sign that says, ‘I’m weak and helpless. Rob me.’”
The Unicorn smiled. “Two mugged me. Go ahead, try to take my ring. You’ll find it burning through your talons faster than molten metal. As if challenged, she reached out and casually took the horn ring off, holding it in her palm before him with no sign of discomfort.
The Unicorn frowned. “The other two got burned hard. One’s horn actually cracked a little. Six months recovery time at least. Must be the Tavern,” he replied, shrugging off the failure. “Still, the only ones following me were a Pegasus, Zebra, and another Gryphon.”
“Your daddy has a lot of nerve contacting me now,” the Gryphoness growled. “Whatever he wants, you can tell him the rates are tripled, and that's just a start. Word is there’s a truce in the air between the major guildmasters, until this political mess is over. If that kind of agreement actually comes to pass, I’m going to have to go for other sources, if I need extra muscle.”
“You must be losing your wits, if you mistake me for that quivering lump of a stallion, lady. And you owe me. Or have you already forgotten how I bailed you of that moldering jail so soon, Miss Ca–?”
“Skull Eye,” the Gryphoness retorted sharply as she slammed her fist hastily on the table. Her eyes narrowed dangerously. “And after that last job you had me pull, you aren't blackmailing your way out of this one, Blueblood. I know things about you that your pretty Pony Princess would flip her wig over.”
“Oh, this isn’t blackmail, ‘Skull Eye,’ he said mockingly. “You see, I have a backup plan for every scenario. You should know that by now. If this bill rumbling through the houses does indeed pass, each noble house would have the right to employ a certain number of troops full time. At least a hundred, as a matter of fact. Of course, in order to have a properly effective fighting force, I’ll need a trainer, someone to mold those troops into warriors loyal to my house.
“In short, my dear, I’m offering you the chance to have the official clout of my house behind you. You would be able to train my troops any way you see fit, so long as it doesn’t kill or maim them. And I’m not the only one who would need your … unique talents. There are many fellow nobles who would gladly accept your … services, were I to vouch for you. And, of course, there would be certain fees involved to compensate you for your time.” His horn lit up as he withdrew a slip of paper and a quill and inkwell from his pockets. A hasty scrawl, and he slid the page over to the Gryphoness. “I know that is only double your fee, but that would be paid to you the first of the month every month you work, not including additional business expenses. From what I understand, you could use the income.” He smirked. “I’ve heard tell that the Bladefeather mercenary group has been making it rather hard to find steady work.”
She took the slip and looked it over, took one of the wooden spoons from the table, snapped off the head and held it into the flame of the lamp for a moment. Using the improvised pencil, she scrawled a new figure on the paper. “And I’ll need the first payment by tomorrow night.” She slid it back to Blueblood.
Blueblood looked over the figure coolly. “I can have the portions delivered to you at the usual drop points. Contact me by normal means, if any of the drops go missing, and I’ll reimburse you, while my men sniff them out.”
‘Skull Eye’ licked her beak nervously, then glared at the stallion. “Breathe a word of this to anyone and I’ll geld you,” she said, before draining her flagon of cider in a few gulps. “You remind me too much of my ex husband.”
“Only my fellow nobles who take you into their employ will know, and even they won’t have all the details. You should know by now, my dear. I’m the absolute soul of discretion.”
“One more thing.”
“Yes?”
“If you want this done right, I’m going to need competent help. Minotaurs. At least two of them, with some actual battle experience.”
“I’ll leave that in your talons. You know who you get along with better than I ever would. I don’t want to risk our partnership over something like that. Get your,” his face contorted into a bitter grimace, “cadre together and we’ll come to a payment agreement.”
“Will do.” The Gryphoness nodded. “Let me know when that brat of yours finally proposes to his boyfriend.” She snickered and slid away without another word. When she’d passed the curtain, she approached the barkeep. “Guy in the back’s covering my tab tonight,” she said. And then she was gone.
Baron Blueblood just sat waiting patiently at the table. A moment later, the ring the Gryphoness had taken teleported back onto his horn. What better way to support his story of a washed up noble line than a cursed ring that never leaves, until the line dies? Of course, he likely wouldn’t have to explain that to anyone, but it was nice to have a story prepared, in case somepony got the wrong idea. Baron Blueblood frowned as he drew himself back into character. The glamour would only last for so much longer, after all, and besides that, knowing Skull Eye, she wouldn’t be too happy with him for that parting jab. He sighed and left an envelope on the table with her name on it, then shoved a sizable ruby inside. She’d be back for it, eventually. A wave of his horn over it, and he knew nopony else would be able to steal it. Much though he enjoyed crossing swords with the Gryphoness, she was one of the last mercs he could trust not to desert to Grif and his band of savages. He got up and walked to the counter. Unforntally, when he arrived, he felt the curious sensation of four meaty fingers squeezing his head, before smashing his face onto the counter.
Blueblood’s ears rang as a deep voice bellowed, “You pay now!” at him, followed by a heavy snort.
A scarred Thestral darted down from the rafters with wide eyes and gritted teeth bearing down on the Minotaur. “You’re not a bouncer, ya big idiot. I’m the bouncer! Go sit down and finish your tankard, ya drunk.”
“Hot Head is bouncer. Best bouncer in Shades.”
“You’re in Canterlot!”
The Minotaur stopped for a moment, blinking in drunken befuddlement. “Oh,” he finally said. “So … he’ll pay my tab, too?” he slurred, stumbling back.
“You pay your own tab. No more charity,” the Thestral barked, nipping the Minotaur’s ear smartly as he yanked the behemoth away.
“How much?” Blueblood muttered as the ringing slowly diminished and the room began to settle from its constant spinning.
“Eighty bits,” the barkeep said gruffly. “That’s for food, cider, and the war bird’s tab.” He reached for a cloth with a hoof and began to run it through the insides of the glasses.
Blueblood pulled out a small coin purse and slowly took out the necessary bits in a combination of gold, silver, and copper. There were far more copper than any other, and the silver was slightly less. Only five gold bits shone in the tepid light. By the time of all the coins were counted, Blueblood only had a single copper bit to his name. Just as he was about to return it to his pouch, a meaty fist snatched it from the counter, before he had the chance to retrieve it.
“You owe me for giving me headache, Pony.”
This one again. Blueblood looked to the side, where the Thestral bouncer was currently busy breaking up a fight between a Zebra and the Pegasus gamblers.
“You have ... ten copper left. You give, or your horn goes on belt.”
Blueblood fixed the Minotaur with a cold glare as he shook the bag to emphasize the fact there was nothing left, put it back in his cloak, and made his way to the door.
The Minotaur let out a disgruntled snort as he turned back to the barkeep. “Hope Pony freezes in snow,” he muttered.
“It’s spring, idiot,” the barkeep grunted.
Blueblood turned at the door, took a deep breath, and raised his charmed voice. “And I hope the guards arrest you soon!” With that said, he ran out the door, ducking behind some barrels in a nearby alley. As he had suspected, the Minotaur had been enraged by his tone of challenge alone, and the bull was soon charging witlessly through the streets, guided by little more than his temper. Blueblood waited for a time, until the clop of the creature’s hooves had faded significantly. Then he left his hiding place and made his way back through the streets to the lights of Upper Canterlot and the comforts of his home. “Rot in Tartarus, you bloody animal,” he muttered.
“So that's the political state right now,” Grif finished his report on what he’d learned as he ate his third stack of pancakes in the house’s dining room.
“So, we lost two houses, but gained three smaller ones?” Pensword asked as he savored the sweet burst of ripened blueberries blending with the bright amber of the syrup that coated the quick breads. “Things are changing daily.”
“That’s the way things work here,” Hammer Strike replied with a shrug.
“Bits are changing hooves every minute. Bribes are literally everywhere.” Grif shook his head. “I imagine by noon, we’ll be hearing several minor house heads are dead.”
Pensword froze. “I hope none of them were on our side, then, because if the–.” He cut himself off, shook his mane, and then resumed. “Nevermind. What I was going to say doesn't matter.” He sighed. “You’d think they would have gotten past this stage by now, though. We’re in the modern age, after all, not the Third Gryphon war.”
“Life is an eternal cycle, Pensword. And there are some things that will always repeat themselves, no matter what,” Vital Spark noted. “This just happens to be one of those things.”
“But depriving a child of a father?” Pensword frowned. “I can only hope that these are not heads who refused to join a faction.”
“Regardless, the casualty rate is going to be high. It might be wise to see about certain measures being taken to head off further tragedy. Any ideas, gentlemen?” Vital asked.
“Protection can only be handled so far, especially when the group attempting this doesn’t even reside in Canterlot,” Hammer Strike hummed.
“And it will take time to organize something like that. It would be better for houses to hire some warriors as bodyguards.” Pensword shook his head again. “I still can’t believe it. Assassinations just shouldn’t happen anymore.” He looked to Grif. “And all this, because most of these nobles would kill, simply to silence a voice of dissent. It’s madness!”
“You act like this wasn’t the norm during the war,” Grif said flatly with a raised eyebrow.
“I know it was normal back then. I just hoped we would have gotten better by now.” He sighed. “I know it was probably too optimistic, but I still wanted to believe, if only a little.”
“I’m pretty sure we all want to, Pensword.” Vital sighed. “It’s hard when people don’t live up to your hopes for them sometimes, isn’t it?”
“That is life, Vital. I know things don’t work out all the time. I just thought we’d be further along. I guess all we can do now is try to use the bill to help things along a little,” the Pegasus replied as he worked on spooning out a Grapefruit.
“Anyway, don’t expect me back for lunch today,” Grif said.
“Security business?” Vital asked.
“I have a meeting that will hopefully cut down the violence, if everything goes right,” Grif noted.
“And the rest of you?” Vital asked as he turned to look at each of his friends.
“Fancy Pants has invited me out to lunch.” Hammer Strike shook his head.
“And I will be having Lunch with some of the Thestral Nobility that arrived last night,” Pensword answered, “to show that we are united together over the Bill.”
“I suppose that leaves me with some time to look up a few book stores. I’ve been interested in researching Zebrica lately.”
“Excuse me, Mister Spark?” a Unicorn stallion walked up beside him, levitating a tray.
“Yes?”
“Message for you,” he said holding out the tray. A sealed envelope lay on top of it, addressed to Vital Spark in an ornate scrawl.
“For me?” Vital levitated the envelope and broke the seal curiously. “Last I checked, I didn’t really have any friends out here.” He furrowed his brow as he read the message’s contents. “... And, apparently, I’ve been invited to a luncheon, too. At the Cookie estate.” He rolled his eyes. “Joy.”
“Careful. The Cookie house swings back and forth. And sometimes it depends on the month. Make sure you’re on guard,” Pensword warned. “That being said, I know you’ll make us proud.”
“Do I really have to go?”
“The real question to ask is whether you want to be bothered by more letters, envoys to New Unity, and constant ‘gifts’ being sent your way with strings attached. The other option is to go, learn what they want, and, if needed, shut them down.”
Vital Spark groaned. “Well, I guess I am the ambassador to Earth. I was bound to have to get involved in politics eventually.”
Pensword paused in his meal. “It might not be just about Earth, you know. It might deal with the magic you are learning.”
“I don’t have any delusions, Pensword. I’ve read enough medieval literature to know how politics tends to work in these situations.” Vital sighed again. “I doubt it’ll get any easier when the cat’s out of the bag about things back home. You know the ones I’m talking about.”
“Right … I am going to leave that one to two others. Either it goes nicely or we pick up the pieces of a disaster.” He paused briefly to sip from his tea, then sighed contentedly. “I’m betting disaster.”
“Pensword, you’re really tempting me to tempt Murphy right now,” Vital said through clenched teeth as he hastily reached for a pastry and took a bite. “Anyways, I’ll let you guys know how the meeting goes, I guess.”
“Sounds good.”
“Take your gun, and your knife, and probably your staff,” Grif advised. “Wear some armor under your shirt, just to be safe.”
“Will do. I’ll be careful not to say anything that could be twisted into a promise or anything like that, either.”
“A smart choice,” Pensword agreed sagely as he finished the last portions of his meal. “And make sure to keep an ear open for any potential surprises. The more we know–.”
“The better we can prepare.” Vital nodded his agreement. “In that case, gents, I suppose we’d better get ready. We can meet up again tonight, after we get out of our respective engagements. Agreed?”
“Agreed, though I think I am going to have the most fun. I get to spend time with my own court.”
“And then tomorrow the real fun stuff begins.” Grif sighed. “Best of luck, gentlemen.”
“Until later,” Hammer Strike gave a faint wave as he stood, and their impromptu meeting was adjourned.
The Cookie estate was a sprawling landscape filled to the brim with monuments to just about every form of quick bread one could name from the cookie to banana bread and beyond. Fountains of Ponies in gourmet chef gear spewed water out their cream pitchers, bowls, or mouths respectively to simulate the act of spreading ingredients into their recipes. Hedges were trimmed to mimic various baking utensils, and one of them had been rendered to look suspiciously like a certain pink-maned party Pony leaning over a mixing bowl.
The confectionary theme continued within the manor house as tiling shaped like hard candies took on the colors of the various stained glass window panes that dotted the main entry hall when the sun shone through. Chandeliers had been delicately crafted to replicate the appearance of licorice fronds bound together, and the fresh scent of baked bread and other wholesome smells wafted through the air in a luxurious, fluffy cloud that would make any guest’s mouth water.
Naturally, Vital Spark was also exposed to this ambrosia, and as he took in the smells, he couldn’t help but smile. If there was one thing he loved, it was baking, and he knew quality when he smelled it. However, he was not so befuddled as to allow the attendant to take his staff and holster. Instead, he shook his head gently and thanked the stallion as he made his way into the dining hall. The pale blue of his dress shirt brought out the color in his eyes as he walked in as comfortably as he could allow himself to feel in the presence of the other nobles. Admittedly, when he saw some of the hats and mane styles the mares were wearing, he was grateful, once again, to be a male.
As had been done in the Grand Galloping Gala, a marshal cried out to announce his entry.
“Presenting Vital the Virtuous, personal apprentice to Clover the Clever and friend to Lord Hammer Strike.”
Vital’s fur bristled slightly, but he did a far better job at controlling himself than he had previously as he made his way towards the table. Much to his surprise, the long table was practically barren. Only three places had been set. A plain summer dress cascaded in bright apple greens and royal purples down the body of the mare who sat at the head of the table. Her smile was soft as the dough from which her namesake was baked, and her lavender eyes regarded the Unicorn’s accessories with a hint of amusement. A rich honey mane flowed down the side of her shoulder in a braid that rested casually against her shoulder as she held a wine glass casually against her hoof in that curious manner Ponies seemed to have developed.
“Over here, Vital Spark,” she called, before taking a sip. “Please, come. I took the liberty of having a few sweets prepared for your arrival. It’s fine to have a few hors d’oeuvres now and again, but I find it more refreshing to eat a little dessert, before a meal.” She motioned towards a trolley filled to the brim with tiny cakes, bite-sized eclairs, cream puffs, and all manner of other miniaturized desserts. “I didn’t know what you’d like most, so I took the liberty of having a little of everything prepared.”
Vital Spark approached the empty chair to the Mare’s left, then leaned his staff against the table and took his seat. On closer inspection, the mare was far more plump than the Unicorn had expected. Considering how her plate had already been speckled by crumbs, it wasn’t a mystery as to why. However, rather than detract from her beauty, it seemed almost to accentuate it, giving her a motherly sort of glow as she looked on the young mage.
“Thank you for the invitation, Your Grace.” He bowed his head politely. “Though, if I may be so bold as to ask, where is your husband?”
“Making excuses for you being unable to attend the main party.” She smirked impishly. “Friend of Hammer Strike, Student of Clover, those kinds of titles can be very weighty in their own right, even if you have no noble rank of your own. And, to be perfectly blunt with you, Vital Spark, you’re obviously too green. Those mares and colts would tear you apart like a pack of timberwolves, which is why you and I are going to sit here, enjoy a quiet meal, and then talk about why you think House Cookie should support this bill.” She took another sip. “After that, I’ll give you some pointers on how to deal with a noble luncheon, without making mistakes.”
“You do realize my arguments would basically be about the same as every other one that Hammer Strike and the others have made to the nobility previously, right?”
“But you are not a politician. You can give me an honest opinion from an outsider’s perspective. That’s what I want to hear.”
Vital Spark levitated a pair of cannolis onto his plate, then took a bite. “You do realize that I’m inherently biased, correct?”
“Yes, just as Blueblood is biased, or the princesses, or even me. As one of the last statements attributed to Smart Cookie, learn what you can from everypony, and you might just find the real truth.”
“Assuming you can sift through the information effectively,” Vital allowed. “The case is pretty straightforward. Without even one of the Elements of Harmony, one of Equestria’s greatest weapons will be rendered completely inert, leaving Equestria open to invasion and all manner of nasty magical attacks. Granted, we do have some pretty heavy hitters on our team now that could potentially offset that threat, but there are ways to deal with each of them, even Discord, if you know how it’s done. And before you ask, no, I don’t know it all personally. I only know that it can be done.
“As things stand right now, with the training I’ve received from Clover, it’s quite possible that I could decimate at least a quarter, if not half or more of the Royal Guard here in the capital with little effort. The sole exception would have been Shining Armor, because of his exceptional skill in shield magic and the powerful genes his family generates that allow for such a deep connection to magic. And were it not for Grif and his clan, let’s just say that a great many more mysterious deaths would have made the headlines in the Canterlot Herald.
“Essentially, the only thing keeping Equestria safe right now is the utter dominance in weather crafting and the reputation Celestia gained in the course of battle. Of course, Hammer Strike does also serve as a natural deterrent, but there’s no guarantee how long he’ll stay, before he has to leave again, so that doesn’t really make for a valid excuse. Like it or not, Equestria does need a more powerful fighting force, one that is capable of fighting on if something should happen to its leaders or heavy hitters.
“Granted, the downside is that the noble families would each be entitled to have their own personal guard and troops. There are probably many who would seek to abuse that for their own ends, so I think there will need to be a stipulation in the bill that allows for penalties to be levied against the noble families, should they abuse this new resource in any way. That should hopefully curb the more corrupt tendencies that some Ponies may be inclined to indulge otherwise.” He finished off yet another cannoli, then looked to the duchess once again. “Might I trouble you for a glass of water?”
“Of course.” A pitcher levitated to his side, and poured its contents into the waiting goblet. “Those are certainly some strong opinions, Vital Spark. However, I would like to raise a counterpoint. Who’s to say packs and agreements aren’t already being formed? Even the threat of use of force can be a powerful deterrent.” She waited to finish a small frosted sugar cookie. “That being said, you do make some very salient points, points that I would enjoy discussing further. After all, how are we to know that the foals of those in power now won’t abuse the powers given to them by their parents? How do you think we should curb these powers?”
“I believe I already mentioned how, m’lady,” Vital said pointedly. “Place a consequence that matters most to each of the noble families, and these circumstances are unlikely to occur. It could take the form of fines, sanctions, and quite possibly a reduction of rank, if the offense should become serious enough or repeat itself too often.”
“And what if the consequence for this generation don’t have the same effect on the next?”
“With all due respect, Ma’am, from what I understand of my own research into the matter and the research Grif has made, practically every house that has ever abused such authority has always been moving with those exact pressure points in mind. And those that don’t act in such a manner are usually honorable and law abiding, so they wouldn’t have thought to try such a thing in the first place.”
“Just make sure to bring back House Cookie’s concerns. Like it or not, the future can and likely will change. If this bill isn’t flexible enough, it could easily cause things to fall apart. Five years ago, Equestria was only ruled by one princess. Then Princess Cadence ascended to become an Alicorn. Then Luna returned, and Twilight ascended soon after. The balance of power seems to keep shifting. Who knows what could happen if another Alicorn showed up out of the blue?” Dutchess Cookie shrugged. “Such things always bring upheaval, and with upheaval comes opportunity for those who know how to capitalize on it. I’m not asking you to destroy every last loophole before I support this bill, but there needs to at least be some sufficient assurances in place. If the bill can do that, then it will receive my vote. If you could inform Hammer Strike and Pensword of my stance, I would very much appreciate it.”
“So long as there are no other strings attached, I don’t think that would be an unreasonable request.” Vital Spark smirked. “So, if this is the hors d’oeuvre, what’s the main course?”
The light filtering through the clear glass panes of the sun room left a golden hue over two Ponies as they sat dining on tea and cakes. The doors spread wide open to reveal a broad garden swept with hedges, rose bushes, tulips, orchids, and so many other diverse and exotic plants as to create a veritable explosion of color, not unlike a series of fireworks in still motion. A single monocle lay on the table’s surface next to the tea tray as a slick blue-maned Pony drank his tea. The tails of his suit coat fluttered in the breeze that drifted in from the warm spring air. Finally, the Pony lowered his cup and let out a forlorn sigh.
“Why is it that every time we meet, it always has to do with Politics, Hammer Strike?”
“Because you live in Canterlot, and I, naturally, despise seventy five percent of the nobles here,” Hammer Strike reasoned with a shrug.
“Just once, I’d like us to be able to meet just for friendship’s sake, you know. I understand you have a busy schedule and all that. It just seems so … wrong, somehow, that things are going this way.”
“I’ve actually been able to clear up my schedule somewhat, so I should be able to manage these visits more often.”
“That quickly? I thought things would have been more difficult, what with the last attack you had to endure.”
“The process has pretty much been automated.”
“And the families?”
“That’s still something I look after.”
“You do take enough time to rest, don’t you?”
“What’s that?”
“Oh, you know, old chap. A state of casual pleasure with the ones you love. Perhaps a stroll through a garden with the wife or reading a good book.” He took another sip of his tea. “That sort of thing.”
Hammer Strike gave a faint chuckle. “Of course I do. Rarity makes sure of that.”
“And how is the young lady? It’s been some time since we saw her last. Is she happy? Is she well?”
“I’m certain of it. She’ll be headed to Canterlot soon, alongside her friends, for the bill. Of course, we’ll probably stay a little longer than everyone else.”
“For pleasure?”
“I’d hope so.”
“Just making sure,” Fancy Pants said. “You’ve been known to work yourself far too much in the past, my friend.” He chuckled and shook his head. “But those plans could prove fortuitous in this case. Fleur has been wanting to meet with Rarity again. Perhaps we could arrange for you to stay with us for a few days, or at least to come to dinner.”
“I’m sure we can manage that,” Hammer Strike replied with a soft smile.
“Excellent. In that case, would you care for some more tea?”
“Sure.”
There were a great many restaurants in Equestria that catered to the elite and powerful with exorbitant prices and over the top service. There were also many taverns that catered to mercenaries, with cheap booze and rowdy company. But there were a few places that catered specifically to the rich mercenaries that headed the Gryphon mercenary trade in Equestria, mostly because there where exactly four Gryphons who did so, and these four rarely met on friendly terms. Still, when such meetings took place, they always took place in Mort et Gloire.
Mort et Gloire was an oddity among the fine dining of Canterlot, a high end restaurant that catered to that small fraction of the population who where both wealthy and lacking in noble status. It was a place favored by guards and mercenaries alike, due to the decore, which consisted of famous weapons mounted on the wall, pictures of warriors, and art depicting great battles. It also was known to offer small exclusive meeting rooms that guaranteed complete discretion using the finest of privacy assuring spells ... for the right price. It was to one of these rooms that Grif was led by a gryphoness who was, as far as he could tell, a mixture of a blue cockatoo and a sergal. It was with great trepidation that he reached for the door handle and slowly opened the door to reveal the figures sitting at the table within.
A gryphoness sat poised in a position that would allow her to spring to an attack or defense at a moment’s notice. Her sparrow head and siamese body relayed a sense of speed and agility. Her eyes moved from Gryphon to Gryphon, never staying focused on one thing for too long. She held a steak knife casually in her hand and flipped into the air as easily as one would a baton, before catching it with equal skill. A sleek set of leather armor clung to her frame, doubtless to compliment the immense agility that her form allowed her. Her name was War Sparrow. Her clan mostly acted as guards for rich merchants that dealt with the upper crust of Pony society. The glare she leveled in Grif’s direction spoke only too clearly how she felt about the Bladefeathers and their presence in Equestria.
Another Gryphon leaned back in his chair, tapping the table idly with his talon. His fur and feathers were both a dark gray. His orange eyes peered analytically at the other three leaders as his long beak reached out, hardly curving, save at the very tip. Most of his features were covered in a mixture of thick gray cloth and some metal plating around key points of his limbs, alongside a few knives across his shoulder and sides. He paused briefly to glance at Grif, before continuing his idle tapping. From his constant movement, it was easy to guess that he was the mysterious Twitch.
The fourth and final member of their party was an odd mix, with a great hulking muscular frame covered in tan fur that puffed out in the remnants of a winter coat. His great beak pressed out in front of him, hooking cruelly at the end. It shone an almost cherry-orange. Whether this was due to battle or his natural biology remained a mystery to this very day. Harsh yellow eyes glared at each of the leaders as his talons hung casually from the hilt of a great cleaver sword that sat comfortably on his back. His colleagues in the field knew him as the Crimson Terror. “Are we just gonna sit here staring at each other, or are we actually going to do something?” he growled.
“Gentlemen and lady.” Grif gave them each a short nod as he took his seat. The server poured him a glass of raspberry cordial, and then she was gone. “I thank you each for agreeing to this meeting, and for observing the traditional pause in contract work, until it is concluded. I’d make introductions, but we’re all professionals here. You know who I am, and I know who you are, so let’s cut to the chase, shall we?”
“That’s literally what I just said,” the Terror snapped. “Why have you called us here, Grafson?”
“Terror quiet. Terror listen to Grif. War Beak speaks,” the sparrow Gryphoness cried, pointing her steak knife at the Gryphon, before snatching a handful of candied nuts from a container the waiter had been kind enough to drop off.
“As you three are, no doubt, aware, soon the nobles are going to be voting on a bill for the remilitarization of Equestria. I’m sure you all have already been receiving offers from the nobility for kidnappings, murders, and the gathering of intel for coercion. Is that correct?”
“Sparra clan works for merchants. We care only for clean coin.”
“Let's not play that game in here, my lady. It’s beneath us,” Grif said tepidly.
“Sparra work for clean coin. Any who disobey, I killee,” she replied, stabbing the table with her knife for emphasis.
“You know we don’t usually talk about that kind of business, Grif. And you know why,” the Terror said.
Grif stabbed a dagger into the table, glaring at War Sparrow. “Aerial Glider, killed this morning attempting to abduct house Pansy’s lead family’s infant son.” He produced an arrow this time. “Fitted with partridge feathers painted with blue flakes. A calling card of one of your boys, I believe.” His eyes turned to Crimson Terror. “At least I know Twitch isn’t about to deny his actions. He’s known to be quite proud of his people’s work. Isn’t that right, Twitch?” he looked to the remaining Gryphon.
Twitch gave a faint chuckle. “Guilty. They’re good at what they do.”
“So, let's try this dance again. I imagined you all have been receiving lucrative offers from the nobles these last few days for jobs that would help alter the balance of power, no?”
“Yes, Sparra does. War Beak dislikes offers. Hurts home turf. Sparra help merchants, merchants don’t buy land of Sparra home.” She darted her eyes over and pointed at Twitch. “Nobles Twitch helps want Sparra out or help them.”
“Well, when the money’s good, it’s hard to complain.” Twitch gave a faint smile as he shrugged.
“Either way, I didn’t call this meeting to point fingers or start wars. I’ve came to make the four of you an offer,” Grif said.
“And just what kind of offer are we talking about here?” Terror asked.
War Sparrow watched carefully as she gauged the situation. Her head tilted, but her eyes remained alert as they darted between each of the other leaders.
“Until this bill is resolved, the three of you forbid taking contracts from the nobles. You make it punishable by death through torture. In return, I will reimburse each of you for potential lost profits in the format of your choosing. Gold, weaponry, supplies. You name it, I’ll provide it.”
“Ohoho.” Twitch began to chuckle as the smile on his face grew wider. ”Now that’s quite a claim to make. Just how deep do those pockets of yours reach, Grif?”
“Give me a number,”Grif said flatly.
“Five digits, at least.”
“I can have the gold dropped at your dead drop tomorrow morning.”
Twitch raised an eyebrow. “I would say I doubt you, but I’ve heard of how well you can get info.” The Gryphon leaned back casually in his chair.
“Sparra clan have no new contracts. Contracts War Sparrow know of that promised, we keep,” the Gryphoness responded, after eating a few more Candied nuts. “Favorite Bakery risks noble buyout from higher perch. We keep bakery safe. They pay in candied chestnuts for whole clan!” She spread wings out triumphantly, then guzzled some more nuts. “Two large bags of candied chestnuts for Sparra. Five digits for Sparras who want shiny. Sparra promise no killee against nobles. We keep contracts War Sparrow knows about.”
“And if you come to the knowledge someone's broken this agreement, death by torture. It’s that or no agreement.” Grif crossed his talons expectantly.
“Sparra law says if Clan member goes against Sparra Rule, Sparra’s dive bomb tied offender. Is that Torture?”
“It will do.” Grif nodded, turning to the last Gryphon expectantly.
“I don’t approve of torture, Grif, except with traitors and certain other individuals. Adds a bit of a deterrent to any new recruits.” Terror narrowed his gaze. “What if I were to find a suitable alternative?”
“If it puts the fear of whatever deity you align yourself to into them, it’s good enough,” Grif said.
“I’ll need to run it by my clan, before we agree. We’ll see about a fair price and forward the bill. The usual contact?”
“Of course.” Grif nodded.
“Well, I’ll be,” Twitch looked around. “Well then, ‘boss’, where do we go from here?”
“We finish our meal and go about our business” Grif said simply. “Last I checked, we are all skipping lunch to be here. Let’s order our food. I’ll pay.”
“War Sparrow likes sound of free lunch!”
“I second the motion,” Terror agreed.
“If our bills don’t put you in some kind of debt, I can’t wait to see the end of this meal,” Twitch chuckled to himself.
“You are allowed to believe what you like. You’d be wrong, but you're free to believe it.” Grif chuckled, hoping Hammer Strike would agree that his actions here justified using his expense account. Otherwise, well … he didn’t want to think about it.
The luncheon that Pensword arrived at was by far the most interesting he’d attended in all his gatherings at Canterlot. Then again, he was biased. He always prefered the company of his fellow Thestrals to the upstuck nobility of the Solar Court. The caves were cool and reverberated with the sounds of laughter and camaraderie. Weapons racks stood at intermittent intevals between various foot tables and other displays. A Thestral guard stood on either side of the racks to avert any potential roughhousing getting out of hound. The cave was no great venue, but it was as beautiful as any gala, with moonstones shining brightly, refracting their rays through various crystals and prisms to give light to the space. The meal had begun after a thirty minute display of military prowess put on by the guards for the nobles’ benefit.
Three roasting boars were being kept warm on spigots over low burning fires as the sounds in the cave echoed about, with clinks of forks and knives, along with drinks and jugs emptying their contents to refill cups and mugs.
“So, have the Solar Courts given you any trouble, since the bill was announced?” Pensword asked.
Count Silver Star sipped casually on a Strawberry smoothie. “No, not really. If anything it’s more unnerving being given invites as a guest of honor. That makes it even worse, since it puts them in a defensive state of mind, even as they put on a show of deference.”
“Yet, they had a knife hidden in a hoof or wing,” Baroness Black Wolf finished. A gnawed bone sat on her plate. “I’ll be honest, Pensword, this isn’t very good for our nerves. Our young mares are finding gifts and forms of flattery from various Ponies, but traditional and … a rather poor replication of Thestral customs.”
Penswords expression soured. “They are looking to tie the houses together, to begin a slow merge of the courts, with them on top. I fear what they may seek to do the same to the Twilight Court.”
“One thing at a time,” Duke Shadow Wing of the Fox Tribe replied. “Right now, we need to show a solid support of our High Chieftess’ plan. I hope you all have read the first draft?” The Thestrals nodded their heads. “Good. That gives us a wing up on the Solar Courts. They haven’t had time to view the draft, and the High Chieftess would like to keep it that way. It gives them something else to focus on, other than trying to kill or marry.”
Pensword nodded his agreement as he swallowed a chunk of the boar. “Still, how shall we show up to this bill?” A hint of a smirk indicated only too well that he already had something in mind.
“Why, armed, of course,” the rest of the table cried out.
“The Thestrals still have a right to bear arms,” Shadow Wing added, “given by precedent at the Third Gryphon War. If they try to stop us, well....” His bore his fangs in a wicked grin as his eyes fell on Pensword.
“Oh no,” Pensword protested with a chuckle. “I’m a noble this time, too, and the highest ranking one in the court at the moment. I won’t have the chance to protect your weapons. No, I think you’ll need to find some other young Thestral to be the weapon guard, this time.” He frowned. “That actually is an interesting point, though. The Solar Court could take the position that we need to conform to previous laws and precedents set up in their proceedings.”
Shadow Wing’s grin turned vicious. “The we’ll just have to do the same to them, won’t we?” He chuckled. “Like it or not, though, it does have to be a Thestral to act as guard. You know the rules.”
“I’ll draft up an amendment immediately.”
Pensword and the others were on their hooves in an instant, their fur bristling as they drew their weapons on the stranger.
The stranger simply laughed. “At ease, my little Thestrals.” Her appearance wavered and dissipated like moon dew in the sun to reveal Luna’s astral mane and kindly eyes. “I commend you on your insights and how you all treat one another.” The disturbance was noted by most everyone in the mess hall, but when they realized what had happened, things returned to normal as the mares and stallions went back to their meals. “We like to observe our Thestrals both on and off duty,” Luna explained. “I must keep my glamour work in good shape, in case the need should ever aries for its use in less mundane situations. Now, let us partake of the desert. I was able to smuggle one of my sister’s new cakes down here.” She giggled impishly. “They call it Death by Chocolate.”
Pensword’s ears perked up. “Oh, that must be the next task for Thestrals, to copy the means of production, and make something even more tasty.”
At first, the other members of the table were confused. That is, until they all took a bite of the cake, and their eyes widened in utter bliss. That very moment, a conspiracy formed. They would find the means to create this confectionary masterpiece, no matter how long it took to accomplish.
That Evening saw the four friends gathered again in the house, this time in the ballroom. Pensword sat at the piano playing a familiar song to keep his talent polished. That, and to fill the void that had formed in his usual schedule, now that he was away from New Unity. He had done a little sparring with a dummy, and even challenged one of the guards Grif had hired to try to keep up his usual regimen at least a little. After focusing on the battle to come, it was time to allow himself a chance to relax.
“So, that’s the gist of it, Hammer Strike. Apparently, the Cookies are much better at posing than they appear. If you can guarantee the bill will be flexible enough to adapt to changing generations, she’ll be happy to vote for it,” Vital Spark reported.
“Figured that,” Hammer Strike replied. “So long as it isn’t too flexible for others to abuse, it’ll work.”
“You gonna bring it up with Celestia?”
“Since the bill is Luna’s thing, I’ll bring it up with her, and potentially Celestia.”
“Well, there’ll be no more Gryphon mercenaries making trouble for us, at least.” Grif took a long pull of coffee. “It wasn’t cheap, but I managed to negotiate a truce, for now.”
“How much did it take to deal with them?” Hammer Strike questioned.
“Two of them want ten thousand bits. The third is discussing with his captains on a ‘fair price.’” Grif shrugged. “It’ll probably be around the same.”
“That’s coming from my account, isn’t it?”
“No, but there may be an exorbitant lunch bill on my expense account,” Grif chuckled.
“Delightful.”
“Well, at least I don’t use that account often,” Grif pointed out.
“I know, I know,” Hammer Strike waved dismissively. “Don’t worry about it.”
“Well, tomorrow is when the rest of the nobles will be arriving, including the Twilight Court. Does anypony want to meet Twilight and Friends? Or do we all want to meet? After all, Rarity will be coming along.”
“Of course I’ll be there. It wouldn’t be right to not be there for my wife.”
“I have to be there either way,” Grif shrugged. “Both for House Strike and for the Bladefeather clan.”
Vital shrugged. “It’s not like I’ll have anything better to do. And besides, it’s always good to see old friends.”
“Indeed. And the remainder of the Thestral nobles will also be arriving on Luna’s airship. So, it looks like we’ll all have a busy day tomorrow.” He smiled as he drew his song to a close. “So, any requests for a piano song?”
“Piano Man?”
“Your wish is my command.” Pensword took a deep breath, and then began to run his hooves and wings over the keys as the familiar melody began to play.
The station was reasonably crowded as the royal guard stood at attention on either side of the platform with their swords raised in salute. A familiar purple Alicorn nodded appreciatively to the various mares and stallions as she strode forward, followed by each of her friends and her number one assistant. A great squeal of joy filled the air, followed by racing hooves as Rarity broke ranks and raced headlong into the torso of a tall Earth Pony with a torn ear and a deep blue coat with golden embroidery.
“You act as though we’ve been apart for years,” Hammer Strike chuckled.
“From your perspective, we have been,” she countered cheekily, before kissing him on the cheek. “And I, for one, intend to make up for lost time.”
Hammer Strike smiled. “I suppose I can’t argue with that logic.”
Pensword was watching from a little further back. “Grif, can you do some work for free? It appears we have an unexpected addition to our party.” He looked meaningfully towards a familiar young filly with a curly purple mane, who had just stepped out from behind the rest of the Mane Six. “ Do you think you could get one of your Gryphons to watch her? I’d rather not risk having the heir apparent to a noble house suddenly disappearing on us.” He scanned the rest of the train avidly, then let out a sigh of relief. “At least she didn’t bring the others this time. I doubt we could handle the entire Ponyville chapter of the CMC.”
“You realize bringing her was all levels of stupid, correct?” Grif asked the elements. “Particularly during the time where an enemy house will do just about anything to get you to swing your votes.”
“We had to have her come to Canterlot to fill out the regency papers, Grif,” Twilight explained. “Not to mention to document the change of hooves for power and authority. She’s the steward of House Belle in the spirit of the law, but not in the letter yet. Believe me, if there was another way, I would have left her behind.”
Grif glared at her briefly, as if trying to find some flaw in her reasoning. Finally, he spoke. “As soon as everything's finalized, she’s on the next train out of Canterlot, no exceptions,” he stated firmly.
“Um, that was sort of the plan, Grif,” Sweetie said somewhat bashfully. “I’m gonna be heading to Baltimare with Button and his family, until things are all ironed out here. He said there was supposed to be something really cool for us to do out there.”
“Let me guess. Convention?” Grif asked. His scowl had softened significantly, and despite himself, he couldn’t help but give her a half grin.
“Yup. A game convention. Button got an extra ticket! We’re hoping to get a copy of the next Pipe Wrench game.”
Grif gave a low whistle that could have easily been interpreted a response to Sweetie, at least until a small ball of fur and feathers blew down to land gracefully on the platform. The relatively younger Gryphon saluted as he puffed his chest out, though Grif could see how the other hand was busy trying to stow a small handheld device. “You called, boss?”
“Aren't you a little young to be on active detail outside the compound?” Grif asked critically.
“First patrol,” he answered simply, before blushing as a few more wing beats heralded the arrival of much larger bodies. Four shadows fell on the platform, and their owners soon padded down gracefully next to the rookie. “I was the closest, and you did say to show up, when that whistle went off,” he said, more to justify his actions to the warriors than to his clan leader.
“Chick,” a gruff older Gryphon with a hooked beak and a gristled spotted gray ruff of fur spoke up, “you’re only on patrol. You know full and well you’re not certified to answer that call yet.”
“Okay,” Grif said simply.
“What?” the Gryphons cried, the old snow leopard incredulously, the young one excitedly.
“You heard me. This cub’s going to be the bodyguard for Lady Belle here,” Grif said to the younger Gryphon. He held out his talons. “But first things first. Give it to me.”
The younger Gryphon winced as he handed over the handheld. “I’ll get it back eventually, won’t I?” he asked hopefully.
“You’re fortunate, kid,” Grif said in a gruff voice. “If it had been my old bird, he’d have crushed it to teach you a lesson.” He chuckled darkly as he stowed the device in his pack. “We’ll talk about privileges, when your jobs done. Assuming you do well, we’ll talk. Don’t, ….” He let the threat hang there for a time, before resuming. “You’re officially going on active duty as Lady Belle’s guard, until this bill is finished. I assume you have your weapons ready?”
“Always.” the cub replied as he pulled out a series of hidden throwing knives from various places on his body and a single short sword from his belt. Lastly, he pulled out his bow from his pack for Grif to examine.
Grif peered at them carefully. Then he sniffed. “Adequate,” he allowed. “Now listen close. There are a lot of desperate people out during this time. If anyone attacks for any reason, don’t give them the chance to escape, beg, or otherwise talk with you in any way shape or form. You kill them, you hear me? You kill them and you walk away while they bleed. And anyone who dares to threaten Lady Belle loses their right to life. Do you understand that?”
“Of course.” The Gryphon nodded.
“You know the protocols. You eat when she eats, and you sleep when the job’s done or when you die. You scan every visitor she gets, even if she seems to know them, and you stay close to her as much as decency allows you to. If you fail, don’t come back to the compound. Understand me, fledgling?”
“The only way I’ll fail is if they kill me first,” the fledgeling said confidently.
“Then get going,” Grif commanded. He waited until the cub and Sweetie had traveled a goodly distance from the platform, then turned to an older female from the warrior’s party. “Shadow them,” he commanded. “Keep unseen and your bow ready. Don’t interfere, unless you have to, understand? I expect a full report, after he finishes the job.”
“As you Command, Grif.” She slowly walked away, before turning back. “Would you like for him to teach her some basic self defense?”
“Maybe when they’re in Baltimare. For now, he can’t afford the distraction.”
The Gryphoness nodded. “As you command.” With that, she spread her wings and was gone in a matter of moments, another speck high above.
Grif nodded dismissively to the remainder of the party and they immediately took flight. He sighed as he turned back towards Hammer Strike and Rarity. “Best I can do,” he shrugged.
Rainbow Dash looked at Grif and Pensword. “Can I talk to you two later? I’ve kinda got a few questions.”
“Questions about moving forward with a certain Phrench-speaking bird of prey? I didn’t think you were the settling down type, Rainbow,” Grif teased.
PInkie Pie gasped, only for Rainbow Dash to put a hoof over her mouth. “Please, not so loud. I don’t know if this is what I want yet, okay? So no parties yet, no invitations, and no blabbing.”
Pinkie Pie nodded her head excitedly, until it was merely a blur. “Okie dokie lokie!” She saluted her friend seriously, then sidled up next to her as she nudged the Pegasus. “But you'll let me plan any anniversary parties you have, right? Right?”
Rainbow groaned. “Sure, Pinkie. Whatever you say. Just not right now,” Rainbow insisted softly.
“Oh,” Fluttershy answered perking up a little. “We’re all staying at Twilight’s tower. Well, except for Rarity. She wants to spend time with Hammer Strike.”
“Celestia and Luna are going to be so glad to see us,” Twilight said excitedly. Then she approached Grif. “By the way, did you get enough from those materials I ordered for you?” she asked meaningfully.
“I’m working on something I think you’re going to like. Fortunately, Celestia left a few loopholes in the charter that we can exploit,” Grif chuckled.
Pensword gave Grif a questioning look, but left it be. He could always ask him later.
“Good. I want to take care of that business as soon as possible,” Twilight said. “We start deliberations tomorrow, right?”
“That is correct, Twilight,” Pensword nodded. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you and the other princesses have a private dinner to discuss things tonight.”
“Oh, before I forget.” Twilight ignited her horn and a series of star-shaped emblems like her cutie mark levitated out of her pack. “These are for you. Make sure to wear them when we meet together. I made them especially for the proceedings here in Canterlot.”
Pensword took the emblem with a wing. “What are they for?” He asked as he handled one with his wing. “Because this could be taken by the Solar Court as an agreement or an alliance between the Twilight Court and the Lunar Court, or at least high level members of them.” He looked to Grif. “I don’t know what they’d think about you giving the only Gryphon clan in Equestria one as well.”
“I’m sure she thought of that,” Hammer Strike commented as he placed his inside his coat pocket.
Pensword shrugged. “I still had to ask.”
“Technically, if she gives one to Hammer Strike, then I should have one, anyway,” Grif shrugged, stowing his as well.
Pensword put his into his saddlebag. “I guess that makes sense.”
“Let’s just say they’ll help us to keep our conversations a little more private,” Twilight smirked.
“Sounds interesting,” Pensword replied.
“So they’re like the anti-eavesdropping crystals we’ve been using for a while back in Unity?” Grif asked.
“And nopony will be the wiser,” Twilight confirmed.
“Yeah, no more bubbles!” Rainbow Dash cheered as she slapped her wing on Twilight’s back.
“Anyway we should get you all settled first. Then we can work out our strategy,” Grif said. “After you, ladies.”
“Will you four be staying at your house or at the castle?” Twilight asked.
“I’ll be staying at a house,” Pensword smiled coyly.
“A house?” Vital asked.
“Yes, a house. I didn’t say whose house, but it is a house, at least in Canterlot’s ideals.”
“So, a giant mansion for rent?”
“Psst. Vital, you’re being really gullible right now,” Grif whispered in the Unicorn’s ear.
“If you’re saying what I think you’re saying, then why the heck is he being so vague, when we’re literally protected by Twilight’s magic right now?” Vital pointed out.
“To make gullible Unicorns ask questions,” Grif responded.
“The Nobility will be worse,” Pensword said.
“Come on. The sooner we get Sweetie’s paperwork done, the less likely it becomes I’ll have to traumatize her and several small foals, when I have to flay a potential kidnapper’s hide with his own bucking spine,” Grif said.
“... Grif, do you really want to give them the potential idea of trying to get a cutie mark in swearing?” Vital deadpanned.
“What? I censored it,” Grif shrugged. “If I had said it like it went through my head, I’m pretty sure Fluttershy would be a permanent red color.”
“Speaking of which, why do I smell fruit?” Pensword asked.
Fluttershy blushed, hiding behind her wings. “I had to bring some with me,” she said meekly. “To help, in case the nobles trigger my instincts. I think the phrase is … tick me off? Angel is here to help, too."
“Wow. She actually went there,” Grif said, giving a golf clap.
“She is a Thestral, Grif,” Vital pointed out.
“And? Lunar Fang and Night Shade aside, Thestrals swear about as badly as the silent monks of the Trotland mountains.” Grif poked Pensword teasingly.
“Uh, … ticked off isn’t a swear word,” Pensword said.
“It is in Ponyville. Watch this.” Grif looked over to the friendship nobles. “Peeved.”
There were several loud gasps, and Rarity nearly fainted. Rainbow Dash, however, just smiled. “That’s cute.”
“You do realize we’ve used much worse language before, and nobody’s so much as batted an eyelash at us, right? I say peeved, literally every time I get upset, and nobody’s called me out on it. Not once!” Vital said. Another round of gasps filled the air and Rarity gave an overdramatic moan.
“We are in New Unity, a place filled with military units and mercs. We wouldn’t even break stride at that word.” Pensword looked at Rainbow Dash. “I’m sure you and I have heard worse in our academies.”
“Yes, but I’ve also said it in Ponyville with you guys. How has nobody told me about this before? You do realize I should know about all these things, if I’m going to function as a proper representative of Equestria, don’t you?”
Pensword paused. “Maybe it’s because you were with us, so they expected language? But I cannot answer that.”
Vital Spark groaned as he struck the bridge of his nose with a hoof. “Now I’m going to have to apologize to literally every Pony in Ponyville. Thanks a bunch, guys. You know how hard it is to maintain the title Vital the Virtuous, when you’ve been spouting swears left and right?”
Pensword paused. “Well, even those of virtue have problems that they work on.”
“To be fair, Igneous the Innocent was known for swearing,” Grif shrugged.
“... Just how many of these alliterative titles are there?” Vital cried exasperatedly.
“Loads, actually. Ooh, I know just the book to help you. Gaia the Grammerly’s Glossary of Glorious Grandstanders!” Twilight’s eyes lit up as she summoned the tome from nowhere and offered it to Vital Spark.
“I love Pony Names,” Pensword chuckled, even as he bit at his wing to try to keep himself from laughing too loudly.
“... I swear, if there’s some deity out there that made alliterative names a rule for this world, we’re going to have some words.” Vital’s horn sparked as a thick vein throbbed on the side of his head. Then he took a deep breath and sighed, before taking the volume and shoving it into his saddle bags. “Thank you, Twilight. Now, then, how about we all get going and get my mind off this dangerous train of thought, before I let my anger channel through my magic and possibly freeze half this station?”
“As if I’d let you get away with that.” Hammer Strike rolled his eyes.
“Train. Vital, you did a pun!” Pensword finally gave up, and fell into a helpless bout of giggles, despite his best efforts.
“... And it’s official. The universe hates me. Murphy, why don’t you just show yourself already? You sure seem to hang around me enough for us to be acquainted. And secondly,” Vital took a deep breath, then cried out in a dramatic voice plaintive enough to rival even Rarity’s. “Why me?”
“Because it’s too easy,” Hammer Strike replied simply.
Vital groaned. “Just … kill me now. Put me out of my misery.”
“Well, since–.”
“Can’t,” Grif cut in quickly as he stepped between Hammer Strike and Vital Spark. “Your fiancé is an explosion-wielding half-Alicorn, half-Nightmare monster who we’d probably wreck half of Unity putting down.” He pushed Hammer Strike’s hoof back, forcing him to re-sheath a dagger.
“... I hate you all,” Vital said as he turned sharply and walked towards the station’s entrance, muttering a stream of imprications, heedless of the various Ponies looking on him in a mixture of shock and disgust.
“What’s his deal?” Hammer Strike questioned the group.
The Records of Nobility was a rather specific department housed in one of the upper floors and back corners of the Canterlot Archives. A droopy-eyed Unicorn leaned back in his chair, his back hooves laid up on his desk as he read through a novel for lack of anything better to take up his time. Nopony really visited his branch of the archives, and he was only needed when something of grave significance occured in the noble families, such as a new birth or the changing and execution of a will, that sort of thing. Then again, that was what he had wanted in the first place. No major callings meant no chances to upset the nobility, and in his line of work, that meant absolute job security. He shuddered as he recalled the rumors of what had happened to the last records keeper. So it was that the stallion was taken utterly by surprise as the chime over his office door tinkled, signaling the arrival of new Ponies. He looked absently over the top of his book to see who it could have been.
The thick enchanted and warded glass provided a relatively safe barrier against any intruders that might have meant harm to him or the documents he acted as custodian for, but despite those protections, his heart still began to pound as his book fell to the floor with a heavy smack. “May I help you?” he asked, his voice shaking with trepidation. Then he gulped. “This isn’t about the royal wedding certificate, I hope, Lord Strike. W-we made sure to have it sent by the swiftest means possible.” He looked nervously between the great Earth Pony stallion and his wife. The fact that they were in his office now did not bode well. Had they missed something, after all? All these sudden changes to the structure of government had sent quite a jolt through the bureaucracy. His eyes widened even further when he finally noticed the purple feathers, mane, and horn of the Alicorn that stood behind the couple. Princess Twilight, herself, had come. Oh, merciful Faust, why couldn’t he have been on lunch break?
Lastly, his eyes fell on the young filly standing between Hammer Strike and his wife. His brow furrowed in confusion. Last he checked, the couple hadn’t been married nearly long enough to have a child, let alone for said child to grow to that level of maturity.
“No, no, you don’t have to worry about that just yet,” Hammer Strike chuckled. “We’re actually here for Sweetie Belle; paperwork and all that about the noble house.”
“House Belle?” he asked as he ran through the horde of files in his head. And then he found it, and his eyes widened with understanding. “I see. House Belle is in limbo, since Dutchess Rarity married you.” The pounding in his chest slowly began to subside. He looked pointedly at the young mare and the stack of papers hovering in Twilight’s magic. “I see Princess Twilight has the paperwork all ready.” He pulled them through the slot in the window below and scanned over them hastily. “Your reputation precedes you.” Then he quirked an eyebrow as he lowered the paperwork to look back at the group. “Princess, you forgot to include which of the mercenary guilds is protecting House Belle.”
“As a direct blood relative to the matriarch of the Strike household, the same protection offered to them is offered to her. I believe the specific passage is found under clause 463, subsection 21, paragraph A.”
The clerk pulled out a massive tome and began flipping through it, until he reached the section Twilight had cited. He frowned and pulled out a smaller book, labeled amendment IX. “Okay, the paperwork didn’t catch up to the amendments. One moment, please.” His magic took hold of a drawer and pulled out a single page. “I’ll need you to fill out this form and put it into the stack.”
“And this is…?”
“Use of an authorized guild whose home charter is not in Canterlot. Form A. As a Princess, you can sign in the authority box. If Hammer Strike is the main user, I can fill him in as witness B. The only problem is we need a representative from the outside guild. Would you happen to have one nearby?”
“Can it be anyone from the guild?” a new voice spoke up, startling the clerk as he took notice of the Gryphon in the corner for the first time.
The clerk quickly regained his composure. “And you are…?” he asked calmly
“I’m Sweetie Belle’s guard.”
“Okay, that can work. We can have this little hiccup ironed out in less than a minute.”
He chuckled as he finished the last touches on the document. “Usually, this process takes much longer, but I scanned the forms. Everything else appears to be in order. All we need now is my signature and stamp, and we’ll be done here. Well, that and the signatures of the two matriarchal figures of the house.” He proffered the pen and one of the slips of paper from the stack. “If you would, Lady Rarity, Dutchess Sweetie Belle.”
“Of course,” Rarity agreed cheerfully. With an artful flourish not unlike when handling her rapier, the deed was done. She levitated the pen to Sweetie, and the young filly offered a far messier scrawl, but one that was at least legible.
“Well, there we have it.” The clerk nodded in satisfaction as he returned the page to its pile. “These will be filed in the system in the next few days, and you should each receive your copies within the week. Can I help you with anything else, while you’re here?”
“That’s pretty much everything. Thanks for asking, though.” Twilight smiled kindly at the stallion and nodded. “We’ll be leaving now. Thanks again for your help.”
“Any time, Princess.” The stallion saluted them all, then turned smartly towards the door to the back room. “Farewell.”
Celestia sighed contentedly as she drank her tenth cup of tea and proceeded to enjoy what had to have been her thirtieth piece of cake. The table at her personal quarters had been bedecked with three separate placemats. A series of carts laden with sweets had been left by the servants for each of the princesses to enjoy as they held their council, and a single large scroll sat at the edges of their plates, towards the center of the table, awaiting the touch of each Alicorn.
“I hope you all enjoyed that meal as much as I did,” Celestia said with a playful smile.
“I don’t think a half-starved hydra would enjoy a meal as much as you did,” Luna teased as she took another pull from her stein.
“And it wouldn’t carry it half so well,” Celestia countered just as easily. Then she giggled. “And how about you, Twilight? I hope everything was satisfactory.”
“More than, Princess Celestia,” Twilight assured her. “But am I right in guessing you brought us here for more than just a meal and catching up?”
Celestia nodded grimly. “That is correct. I’ll leave it to Luna to explain, seeing as this is her bill we’ll be discussing.”
“Doesn’t seem much to discuss. I’m sure you read the bill, Twilight?” Luna asked.
“Yes, but it always helps to go over things a few extra times, just to be on the safe side. I want to make sure I understand the full intent, and this way, we can see if there are any possible loopholes that need closing, since we all see and read things differently,” Twilight said.
“Equestria needs an army, Twilight Sparkle. It’s that simple. I, of course, don’t mean to downplay any of your actions or those of your friends, but it’s amazing the threat of Celestia alone has kept us safe as long as it has. The Changeling invasion was a clear warning something needs to change.” Luna looked to her sister. “We weren’t taught to be this sloppy.”
“Unfortunately, I simply couldn’t manage all of those things alone. Without you here, I had to let some things fall by the wayside. I’m not proud of it, but that is what I chose.”
“Still, we have had no less than three separate Changeling incursions on our soil in the last two years. We can’t rely on even Hammer Strike’s prowess to keep us safe forever. Besides, should the throne ever be filled again, I’m sure the one filling it would appreciate a capable force,” Luna said coolly as she took another sip of cider.
“Um, aren’t we already filling the thrones for Equestria?” Twilight asked, confused.
Luna looked to Celestia. “She’s your student.”
Celestia shook her head. “It’s not the right time.”
“Time for what?” Twilight asked. “Princess, what’s going on?”
“Luna and I are merely discussing the finer points of certain events that occurred a long time ago. Unfortunately, it’s not quite time for us to share that particular portion of our formative years with you yet. Rest assured, you will know in due time. The time just hasn’t arrived yet.”
“Celestia, I respect you, but are you sure you can afford not to tell me what’s going on? You make it sound like you two don’t have the right to rule Equestria, when you’ve been doing it for thousands of years.”
“Tell me, Twilight, are the Gryphons ruled by a prince or a princess?” Luna asked.
“Neither.”
“And the Unicorns of old. Was Princess Platinum the ruler of her people?”
“She was the heir, and she did rule with charity and dignity for many years.”
“But when she did, it was as Queen Platinum, and she gave that title up when Equestria was formed. Kingdoms are ruled by kings and queens, empires by empresses and emperors. Has it never occured to you that Equestria is not a principality, yet it is ruled only by princesses?”
“No.” Twilight shook her head. “Things have just always been this way before.”
Luna sighed and looked to Celestia. “No, Twilight Sparkle, they have not.”
Twilight’s eyes became unfocused for a moment as they lost their luster, and the sound of breaking glass sounded as several windows in the halls suddenly detonated, before a trickle of blood dropped slowly down the mare’s nose. Then her eyes returned to focus again, and she sniffled briefly, before taking a deep breath. Then she shouted at the top of her lungs. “What?”
Celestia winced. “Ponies think that it was always this way, because we allowed time to erase any records of the truth, Twilight. It was the last request of the previous king of Equestria, before the land was bequeathed to us.”
“But … b-but … but if you altered history, then that means … that means….” the purple princess began to hyperventilate, then finally threw her hooves up into the air and cried, “Everything I know is a lie!”
Luna reached out lovingly … and slapped Twilight across the face. “Stop being such a drama princess, Twilight Sparkle.”
Twilight gaped, wide-eyed at the lunar Alicorn. Celestia sighed and laid a supportive hoof on Twilight’s shoulder. “Not everything you know is a lie, Twilight. We were merely obeying the last request of the king to allow him to fade from history. Believe it or not, there is a precedent for his mantle to be taken up again, and it’s actually quite clearly documented.”
“Wait, the three labors are actually real Equestrian law?”
“Not so much three labors,” Luna said, igniting her horn and calling up the silhouettes of three weapons: a hammer, a scythe, and a sword. “The three great arms, representing the sun, the moon, and what lies between. For one to rule over Equestria, they must be able to wield these three great weapons, the locations of which were never told to us.”
“This isn’t going to turn out to be another one of those prophetic destiny types of things, is it?” Twilight asked.
“Doubtful,” Luna said. “I don’t think the two of us working together could do more than budge the sword.”
“I meant for someone who actually could. Though the fact that you two couldn’t leaves little possibilities….”
“Best not to focus on such things right now, Twilight. We’re here to prepare for any opposition that might be mounted against us and the bill’s passage.”
“Do I have the friendship court’s support?” Luna asked Twilight.
“I don’t approve of violence, Princess Luna,” Twilight said seriously as she gazed back at the moon princess. “I prefer more peaceful methods first. But after everything we’ve seen in Ponyville and New Unity, I would be insane not to.”
“Then it seems our greatest opponent will be from your end, Celestia,” Luna noted.
“Blueblood and his coalition will stop at nothing to put a wrench in anything that could potentially upset his financial power. I’m afraid there won’t be much that we can do to stop him from utilizing whatever tactics he can scrounge up to succeed.” She levitated a scroll from one of her many jewelry boxes and opened it for the other two to view. “Intelligence indicates that he has already contracted a band of mercenaries from various races and backgrounds to train his forces, which implies the sole purpose of this opposition is to merely drain funds and see how he might try to drive a wedge into the unity that we are seeking to establish.”
“How many are with him?” Luna asked.
“Are you referring to the mercenaries or the houses he’s drawn to his side?”
“More to the nobles of your court,” Luna clarified.
“The bill will be dancing on a knife’s edge. Even with the addition of your Lunar Court numbers, since your court is relatively new, there are many more houses in the Solar Court to account for. Grif’s demonstration did much to sway many fence sitters our way, but our numbers are currently divided by an even forty-eight percent on both sides, with approximately four percent of the families remaining undecided.”
“Then what can be done to convince that remaining four percent?” Luna asked.
“I honestly don’t know, Luna. Some may wish for protection, others for favors or money. For the first time in a long time, these houses, at least to an extent, hold a great deal of power. You know what that tends to do to their heads.”
“Well, at least I know my coffers far outweigh Blueblood’s,” Luna chuckled. “Let the games begin, I suppose.”
“Let’s hope we can win.”
“There’s no hoping, Princess,” Twilight assured her. “We will win.”
One of the things Grif had looked for when buying the house had been a personal study. That was to say, a large room with plenty of book space, comfy chairs, and a fireplace. And it was in this room that Grif and Pensword found themselves waiting for Rainbow Dash to arrive. A pot of tea sat on a small table with several empty tea cups at the ready. However, rather than the normal tea time fare of tiny sandwiches or cookies, a fresh steaming pizza sat on a platter, waiting to be eaten.
“We did tell her to find us here, right?” Grif asked, flipping casually through a withered copy of The Hobbit.
“Yeah, but she did have a last minute Wonderbolt meeting first, and she needed to fly from the other side of the mountain, within speed limits. You know how the nobles are if somepony rattles their windows,” Pensword answered as he looked at the pizza. He was currently reading through a recently repaired copy of To Hell and Back. “Still, she should arrive–.”
It was at that moment that Rainbow finally managed to streak through the door, slamming it behind her. “I know I’m late, no excuses,” she said hastily as she snapped to attention.
“So, what happened out there?” Pensword asked.
“Meeting went long, and Spitfire was trying to get me to back the Wonderbolts as their own separate branch in the military, like those Blue Angels you told me about. She’s hoping to gather the best of the best to give special flight training.”
“I think Spitfire’s reasons may be a bit more selfish than she’d like you to believe.” Grif chuckled as he closed the book, got up, and carefully placed it amongst his collection.
“She’s just worried she'll lose her control over the Wonderbolts. She’s a minor noble, after all. So’s Soarin, for that matter. As a new noble, I didn’t realize that it wasn’t all merit based.”
“From what I understand,” Grif said as he returned to his seat, “Luna didn’t look favorably upon the commanding officer in charge of training signing autographs while civilians were placed in danger.” He picked up the pot and poured a cup of tea, before turning and offering to pour for Pensword.
“She wasn’t the one training. She’s the officer. Our drill sergeant was Storm Anvil.” Rainbow Dash pulled out a somewhat beaten up pamphlet. “But speaking of disfavor, a new manual was pushed through by some nobles that thought we were too strict.” She put the booklet on the table. “Spitfire won’t be very happy I took this from the library, but I figured you guys ought to have to right to compare the old policies with the new ones.”
“Well, Luna’s made it clear that retraining and re-evaluation is in the works for all would-be-officers. Meritocracy over inherited rank is the way things are going, whether the other nobles like it or not.” Grif filled Pensword’s cup and poured one for the rainbow-maned Pony. “But that's not what we’re here for. You wanted a safe space to talk, Rainbow, and this is the safest space I have. So, let us talk.”
Rainbow Dash took the cup and sipped slowly, pondering her words carefully, before she spoke. “I know I’ve had the customary dinner with the father, but I’m sort of lost on how things are supposed to go farther in a Gryphon relationship.” A blush rose in her cheeks. “I like Kahn, and I think he likes me, too. But if we’re really going to try getting more serious, then we need to know how to show that to each other. So, uh, yeah.” She rubbed the back of her mane nervously. “I kinda wanted to ask you. How do I, you know, show him?”
“That's an interesting question to ask me,” Grif admitted with a chuckle. “I guess I’m both a great person to ask and a poor person to ask. In my time, Gryphonesses were treated a lot less respectfully. Marriages were made like business transactions for higher-end families. I was considered radical, because I treated them equally. That being said, the Northern Isles was far more liberal than other Gryphon settlements. Back then, it would be demanded that he would court you. However, things have changed, and the role in a relationship is, in a lot of ways, determined by one thing. Who takes the lead? Who takes charge on the dates and who’s calling the shots when your cloud mysteriously drifts close to Unity and Kahn goes missing for a few hours?” Grif wiggled his eyebrows.
Rainbow Dash looked aghast at Grif, then horrified at Pensword, even as the pair smirked mischievously back at her. Her blush deepened as her wings suddenly flapped out on either side, making her even more red in the face.
“I’ll pull one over on you two, someday. Just you wait,” Rainbow grumbled sulkily, even as she struggled to force her wings back down against her sides.
“The day you do that, it might be because we didn’t feel like trailing you two,” Pensword countered.
“Settle down, you two,” Grif chided. “And Pensword, don’t act so suspicious. You know what Kahn’s like. You can’t honestly tell me you’re surprised.”
“I know what he’s up to. I’m just teasing my son’s marefriend. A father can do that, can’t he?” He paused suddenly, and his eyes widened. “Hey. I said a contraction without thinking about it first!” A goofy grin plastered itself on his face. “Finally!” Then the joy vanished as he returned to the more serious expression he was known for. “Well, Rainbow Dash, answer the question. Who takes control?”
Rainbow Dash shuffled her hooves. “It depends. Some days I take the lead, and other times he does. None of us really knows who’s ahead or behind.”
“Wait just a minute. You’re telling me that Kahn is as bull headed and stubborn as you are at your worst, and yet…?” He led on with a questioning tone.
Rainbow let out a frustrated goran. “Yes, I’ve fallen for him. I think we established that, Pensword. I don’t need to go into the details. I just need advice!”
“Make it a partnership, then,” Pensword suggested. “One where both pull at the harness equally.”
Grif stroked at his beak in thought. “Well, Kahn is from the lower kingdoms. Romance is more nuanced there. And neither of you posses an actual rank, at least militarily speaking, so there is no precedent for that. Still, Kahn is a Gryphon. At some point, it will come down to a contest, even if you never realize it, something that you're both equally good or equally horrible at, so that takes out racing and flirting.” Grif took a moment to chortle at his joke. “Has Kahn ever deferred to you when on dates? Lowered his beak? Who usually pays? And before you ask, Rainbow, yes, this is all relevant. I need to know if Kahn has ever signalled his willingness to let you take charge of things. Our species is very weird this way. No matter how equal partners are, someone always bears the burdens of the family on their shoulders for the other.”
Rainbow Dash paused. “Well, I hate to admit it, but he’s been edging me out, lately. I tried sneaking around him a few times by prepaying with the reservations, but then he went the whole nine yards, even hiring a pair of actors to pretend to take the bill for us. It was one heck of a prank, let me tell you.” She chuckled. “It takes a lot to pull one over on me. I guess I just don’t like to lose.”
“Love is no contest, Rainbow Dash,” Pensword said. “It’s more like squad tactics. He’ll have his duties and you’ll have yours. Work together, and the two of you will succeed in carrying out your mission. Don’t, and the relationship, your ‘mission,’ if you will, will ultimately fail. And every day is a battle to stay in love.”
“Here’s a secret for you, Rainbow Dash,” Grif chuckled. “I have been married three times, and am engaged to one more. Out of all of those courtings, I’ve only ‘won’ once. Shrial takes much upon her shoulders. So does Avalon. Gilda’s the only one that I can say I shoulder her burdens more then she shoulders mine. The fact that you are identifying so many subconscious reactions to Gryphon courting when you’re a Pony shows that you really do wish to be by his side. The question is, can you live with that or does he really need to be at yours? Because the way things are going, I see three options for you.”
“What are they?”
“I’d never encourage you to run, of course,” Grif started. “It’s obvious Kahn loves you greatly. He only flirts with the maids till they blush now, not until they faint. For him, that's quite a lot of restraint.” Grif took a gulp of tea. “Your three options are these. One, you could continue down this path and see what happens. Eventually, one of you will know when it is over and you can work from there. Two, you could simply let him take your burden and move ahead knowing it was on your own terms. Finally, you can draw him out, challenge him to a contest neither of you are better than the other at and let fate decide then and there, though I’d point out the latter two are faster, if you want to plan a wedding soon,” he added with a mischievous wink.
Pensword laughed uproariously as Rainbow’s wings burst out of her grip yet again. “Let’s not get too far ahead of ourselves, Grif. After all, she needs to prove her prowess to the father first. Kahn is a Gryphon son to a Thestral clan leader, after all.”
“Seriously? I defeated a whole swarm of Changelings, helped faced down Nightmare Moon, beat back Discord, and I earned my spot on the Wonderbolts without any outside meddling from the nobles, whatsoever.”
“Take a walk through New Unity, Rainbow. Most of the veterans there can claim to have taken down as many Changelings as you have, probably more,” Grif noted as he cut himself a slice of pizza. “And you failed against Discord. If it weren’t for Twilight, you would’ve been nothing more than a flaky gray Pegasus with no thoughts or cares for anypony else, whatsoever. The wonderbolts, I’ll give you, however.”
“Nightmare Moon?”
“Mostly Twilight. Sure, you helped save her from falling to her death and offered your moral support, but most of the power came from Twilight, and she was the one who sparked the magical reaction that unlocked the elements’ power in the first place.”
Rainbow sputtered her frustration and folded her hooves sulkily. “Fine, but I still want to know what you meant by a fast wedding.”
Grif shrugged. “Weddings take time to plan. Vital and Trixie have their own wedding coming up, so you’d be planning around that, and spring is only a month or so off. Unless, of course, you’re okay with a quick civil service. I mean, as Kahn’s a Gryphon, I could do it without any real fuss.”
Rainbow Dash narrowed her eyes. “After the bill, she insisted firmly.”
Grif smirked triumphantly. “So you do want it.”
Rainbow chose to ignore that statement. “I would need my parents here, and Scootaloo, and all my friends. If I’ve got those, I can get married shaved under the moon, for all I care.”
Pensword chuckled. “You’d do what?”
“You heard me, Pensword. Shaved, buck naked, under the moon.”
Pensword shook his head as he smirked. “That just won’t do, Rainbow Dash. You’d need a weapon.” He turned to face his friend. “Grif, is there any chance you could see about getting Rainbow Dash a weapon that suits her unique attributes? We can talk price later.”
Grif shrugged. “I can look into it.”
“Good.” He turned back to the mare again. ”And as for you, Miss Dash, you need to show us that you’d be able to support a family. After the this bill is passed, you’re going to take a special training course. I’ll pull whatever strings I have left, and you’ll spend a week learning all there is about being a Pegasus in a Thestral household. On the last night, you’ll hunt to prove you’re capable and that you’ve learned your lessons well. Naturally, the lands surrounding Fluttershy’s cottage are strictly forbidden. You’ll have a guide appointed, or I’ll take the role myself, to observe your work. Assuming you succeed, then you’ll have proven worthy to take my son’s hand in marriage. Fail, and you’ll have to wait a month.”
“Spring is in a month.”
Pensword smiled. “Why, yes. Yes, it is. Since you’ve made your decision, I’ll arrange to get you some leave time for the test. Just remember; if you fail, you have to hold off with Kahn for another month. In short, I recommend you don’t fail.”
“Anyway, we can work on that later,” Grif said. “You should get back to your friends.”
“Fine,” Rainbow growled, “but before I leave, I’ve got something to say about the bill, too.” She drew herself up and cleared her throat. “I want this bill to have one result, that we never have to face an invasion like Chrysalis’ again, without putting up a fight. You and I both know that it was just the girls, me, and the humans at Cadence’s wedding. It should have been more.” She crossed her forehooves as she floated in the air. “Can you promise me that Equestria will be able to stand up against others, without having to call on me and my friends to wield the Elements of Harmony? We’re always happy to help, and let’s face it, the adventures are totally awesome.” She frowned. “But lately, people have been asking us for help, even with the littlest things. It’s not right. I don’t want to be stuck between a muddy rut and a giant cannon, if you catch my drift.”
“You want time to spend with Kahn,” Grif clarified.
“... Yes.”
“It must be love, Pensword. That’s the only thing that could possibly get Rainbow Dash to turn down a chance to show off.”
“Hey!” Rainbow protested.
Pensword was too focused to really take part in the teasing. “A giant cannon would be fun to build and operate,” he muttered. “The turks did that, if memory serves. Or was that the Ottomans?”
“Later, Pensword,” Grif said in Draconic, before switching back to Equestrian. “To answer your question, Rainbow, yes. That’s the plan. Here’s hoping it works out that way.”
“Then you’ve got my vote,” she said as she zipped over to the pizza box and nabbed a slice. She hovered in front of the door, flicking it open with a free hoof, even as she chewed on the rich combination of savory cheese and sweet vine-ripened tomato sauce. “Later.” She waved a hoof, and then she was gone, leaving a rainbow-colored streak in her wake.
“Well, that went well,” Grif said as he grabbed another slice.
“Agreed. I have to say, Rainbow Dash is strong willed, but if you earn her loyalty, it’s clear she’ll fight to the death for you. Admittedly, that’s why I only want her to go through the first part of the training. She already has all the qualities she needs to fulfill the rest of the requirements. Tell her someone’s in trouble and she’ll be their shield in an instant.” He frowned and his brow furrowed. “Speaking of shields, what ever happened to that wooden shield from all those Hearth’s Warmings ago? Or would that only be two ago?” He chuckled as he made his way to the pizza, finally letting his stomach have its say.
“We should definitely find that,” Grif agreed as he returned the chuckle. “Anyway, tomorrow's going to be hell, so let's just enjoy the night.”
“Let’s,” Pensword agreed as he raised his teacup. “Cheers.”
Pensword looked calmly at Hammer Strike and Vital Spark. “So, while we wait for Grif to get back from his errand….” He couldn’t help but smile as he bobbed his head in time to the music passing through his head. He wasn’t sure where it came from, but it certainly was catchy, and it spoke to the more human part of him. “What do you have planned for tomorrow, since you don’t get to be in the room, Vital?”
“I don’t know, really. I was thinking of maybe doing some sightseeing. Do you happen to know any places I might be able to visit?”
“Well, there are no less than six museums open to the public,” Pensword began, “but there are some street performances and plays going on, too. Maybe you wouldn’t mind heading down the lower Canterlot to see some of the sites there. It all depends on what you want to do, really.” He chuckled. “You know the danger of asking me. I’d send you on a historical tour of the mountain from the first mines to the construction of the castle to the history of some of the noble houses.”
“Hmm … maybe I should see about taking the Pensword tour,” Vital mused.
“A what?”
“Oh, you didn’t know? After you came back and got married to Moonshade, somepony got the idea to trace your movements as you adjusted to regular life here in Canterlot, right down to the very registry office you took your vows in.” Vital Smirked. “Isn’t it interesting how these sorts of things pop up when you have a local celebrity?”
Pensword’s eyes narrowed. “I’ll have to look into this,” he muttered. “You do what you want, then, Vital Spark, but if you take that tour, I want a full report on it, when you return.”
“Are you asking me to spy for you, Pensword?”
“Yes. Yes, I am.”
“Eloquent way to put it during a turbulent political time,” Grif’s voice cut in as he entered the room. “Let the Solar Court believe the Lunar ones are planting spies.”
“And the Solar isn’t doing the same thing? Besides, I know who has the real network here,” Pensword replied with a smile. “You know how Gryphons can’t get PTSD? Well, Pegasi get very giddy, before the dawn of battle, it seems.”
Grif rolled his eyes as he tossed Vital a pouch of bits.
Vital raised a questioning brow. “What’s this, an early wedding gift?”
“To be frank Vital, a bag of pretzels in this area of Canterlot costs more than your monthly salary. This is so you don’t go bankrupt trying to eat.”
“Any areas that aren’t so expensive?” Vital asked.
“If you want to walk for half an hour, you can get to the low end, but I can’t guarantee the taste,” Grif offered.
“Wow. No wonder Canterlot is only full of nobles and rich people. At this rate, the city will eventually collapse on itself, economically.”
“Actually, not really. Canterlot, at least economically, runs off the coffers of the nobles, so if the rest of the economy falters, Canterlot feels it last, or maybe first, since the taxes from the nobles’ lands suffer, leading to less money in said coffers. That could lead to backroom deals and business negotiations to attempt to supplement income, which would likely end in disaster, because they have no idea what they’re doing, and won’t trust the Ponies who do.”
“... And you lost me, Pensword.” Vital sighed and shook his head. “Anyways, that’s my plan. What about you three?”
“A long day of listening to people talk, whine, and shout,” Grif said, “with light sprinklings of sissy fights for flavor.”
“Are we talking Dexter sissy fight or little girl sissy fight?”
“You know, two underdeveloped Unicorns slapping each other with their hooves? So, pretty much the latter,” Grif chuckled.
“Which Dexter?” Pensword asked.
“The one with the meddling older sister who always blows his experiments up,” Vital Spark clarified.
“Ah,” Pensword muttered
“Don’t have anything planned, myself,” Hammer Strike shrugged.
“You just get to have fun watching the fur fly, so to speak, huh?” Vital asked.
“Pretty much.”
“So, do you have to ref, too, or is that gonna fall to Fancy Pants again?”
“I haven’t been alerted to anything like that, so I’d hope not.”
“Actually, it's Celestia,” Pensword answered. “Seeing as Luna is sponsoring the bill, and I co-signed it, it falls to Princess Celestia as most senior and head of the Solar Courts, or to ‘ref,’ if you prefer. As for me, I plan to stay as long as it takes to pass this bill and give Equestria a better future.”
“Knowing you three, I’m sure you’ll succeed. Let’s face it, most of Equestria knows by now not to cross you lightly, and you’ve already given more than enough convincing reasons to the nobility. It’s all just a matter of getting through the tiresome grandstanding beforehand.”
“And the ego. The world will change, and while I can say that we have tried to keep ego at bay, like Washington, Lafayette, Jefferson, or even Hamilton in his own way, we face others with the egos of Andrew Jackson and Woodrow Wilson. They would take the powers they perceive and take even more.”
“Jefferson was known for abusing his power, too, Pensword,” Grif said. “We can spend all year on this. The point is we’ll need that ego on our side, and as many grandstanders as we can, just to keep up. Don’t put this as good or evil. We’ll be making as many pacts with the devil as they will.”
“Still, we must not allow abuse of the system. Faust knows if the Nobles of the past had the means, my people would have all been like Fluttershy, or worse. Still, if we have to deal with the devil, we need deals that will hurt the devil, should he try to break his word.”
“Pensword, what do you think the very definition of my various occupations is? Until the day Equestria is a utopia, it is not a matter of if the system is abused, but who abuses it better.”
“Do I detect a hint of Mister Bond somewhere in there, Grif?” Vital asked.
“I had twenty six people killed last week, thirty more put in intensive care, and I sold several possibly-war-starting secrets from the Diamond Dog tunnels to the stampede grounds. I could go deeper, Vital, but I would have to kill you. That’s not a joke. I would legitimately be obligated to kill everyone here but Hammer Strike.”
Pensword frowned. “I thought I had the needed levels.”
“Twilight doesn’t have the needed levels for some of it,” Grif shrugged.
“But she’s a new Princess. Of course she wouldn’t have the levels,” Pensword retorted.
“And you’re not the Commander of Equestria’s forces anymore,” Vital noted. “So isn’t it a moot point?”
“In the US, Eisenhower was forever a five star general, and technically never could retire. He put aside that rank, while he served as President, but claimed it again after. At the end of his life, he led no troops, and stood some days, while they pinned his rank badges on, then took them off as tokens to politicians and leaders as emblems he wore. While consulted, he didn’t lead troops at the end of his life. Maybe we can do something like that.” He smiled. “Thank you, Vital, for the idea.”
“Little too late for that, Pensword,” Hammer Strike commented.
“It's never too late. I know I will never lead the full army ever again. I’ve come to peace with that over the last month, but I’ll be hogtied and hung in the rafters of the Lunar Belfry, before I let the Solar Court tell me to go home, write my memories, and let the younger generation lead, while those dirtbags shapes those Ponies’ minds. This is the problem. It’s so far gone that one of the letters I intercepted even has a draft proposal from the Solar Courts to keep my books from being published.” He glared right at Hammer Strike. “They fear you. You have the favor of two Princesses. I Fought for my rank and noble title, and I feel like that fight is happening again right now with this new Solar Court! So, unless you have something to say, this is my only course of action!” Pensword finished with a decisive clop as he smacked both hooves on the table.
“Considering the course of action was already decided, and you’re currently in the works to get your role obtained once again, I would suggest you not try to change the plan this late in the game,” Hammer Strike replied, leaning back in his seat. “I’d also suggest you refrain from snapping at me.”
Pensword pulled up short, gaped for a few seconds, and promptly facehoofed. “I’m a dummkopf.” He slowly sat down as his ears wilted. “I’ve been coming and going so much with helping compose the bill that I thought that I wasn’t going to be in the running anymore. At the very least, I won’t be allowed, until I can file the necessary paperwork and fees to challenge the age rule. I must have gotten my wires crossed.” He sighed. “Old memories would say I should apologize, but we know this bill has been stressful. Maybe we should have a vacation, after this is all over. Perhaps in Zebrica?”
“You do know my wedding is just around the corner, don’t you, Pensword?” Vital asked pointedly. “Kinda hard to have a wedding without all my groomsmen.”
“Funny, you never told me a date. All I know is that it was ‘soon.’ So, do we actually have a date now?” He paused and looked at Grif. “Also, I should warn you. The Fox Tribe’s chief plans to hire on a new trainer, assuming he’s interested.” Pensword smirked. “Apparently, this potential trainer is very resourceful, and he made quite a few waves during the Third Gryphon War. In short, the chief wants you to train some of the first special Forces of Equestria, Grif, assuming you want to teach, that is.”
“Honestly, I can’t promise anything right now,” Grif said. “Apparently, Gryphon training comes at a premium these days.”
“Of course. Just bear in mind that you might be getting a visit from a representative in the near future, during the proceedings.” He chuckled. “I didn’t want you to be blindsided, after all. Though speaking of blindsiding, I met a very interesting Grpyhoness today at one of the candy shops. She sounded very much like a Redwall Sparrow.”
“She is … eccentric,” Grif nodded, “but her ability to divebomb with pinpoint accuracy has been the death of many.”
“So, should I look for any old redstone abbies, if I wanted to visit them with my Gryphon children?” he chuckled.
“Don’t say it so loudly,” Grif cautioned. “She doesn’t like people sharing clan secrets.”
“I was joking about the abbey,” Pensword replied as his mouth dropped open in shock.
“Should be more careful about your jokes,” Grif stated bluntly
“At least she’s not guarding some legendary sheath to an ultimate weapon, right?” Vital asked. “... Right?”
“That part, I don’t know,” Grif admitted.
“Okay, things are getting a little too uncomfortable for me now, and I have a night train to catch. Lunar Fang arrives in thirty minutes, and I need to be there to greet her.” He groaned. “I am not looking forward to the lag tomorrow.” Then he sighed. “At least deliberations start at noon.” He stood up and offered a short bow. “By your leave,” he said teasingly as his face contorted into a lopsided grin. Then he winked and left the room.
“I think that’s the most relaxed I’ve seen him in ages,” Vital noted. “I’m not sure whether to be proud or scared of that smile.”
The conclave was dark as the great double doors yawned open, deep beneath Canterlot’s walls. Luna, Celestia, and Twilight strode forward confidently with their horns glowing in unison. The orb of light that surrounded them was a gentle mingling of yellow, blue, and purple that swirled around them in eddies as they made their way down the many tiers to where the newly constructed thrones awaited their royal posteriors. With each step they took, a series of torches burst into flame along either side of them. Those lights spread in synch down each of the rows, until the princesses passed the final threshold to the platform below. The flames surged down in streaks of multicolored light to crash into the line, before they spun and whirled ravenously about the ring.
The princesses remained nonplussed as they each took their seats, then raised their heads in unison. The fires jerked, as if to resist their unspoken command, but this was the combined power of three Alicorns, and though fire may have been one of the more dangerous elements to control, Celestia held a particularly powerful sway. The three Ponies concentrated the light into their horns, until it formed three massive orbs of energy, before launching them up into the high vaulted ceiling. The flames leaped after the lights like a fish after a lure, until all smashed into the ceiling. Radiant light flooded the room, and a bell-like tone rang loud and clear as a veritable nebula of crystals ignited into life.
A brilliant sun shone radiantly with the light of white quartz and yellow topaz and diamond, while a blue moon formed of sapphire, cerulean, and various other gems was outlined in the shadow of black obsidian with just a hairline of faintly pulsing moonstone to encase the shadow and finish the appearance. Lastly, a great purple star formed from amethyst, tanzanite, charoite, sugilite, and many more gemstones pulsed its gentle light, keeping the two symbols in balance, one with the other. Together, these lights spread in a vast array that staggered the mind and dazzled the imagination in a true portrayal of the eternal heavens and a symbol of the celestial plane in which the gods dwelled. Truly, this room spoke more than anything else of the harmony these princesses sought to achieve this day.
Three beings entered the room in a perfectly precise step: a Unicorn dressed in gold robes, a Thestral in dark blue, and Spike. Spike and the Unicorn carried polished trumpets, while the Thestral carried a drum. Each took a place to the left of the doorway and the guards opened the door. When a Pony entered the room, the appropriate herald would play their instrument and announce the entrant and their place in their respective court. Spike and the Thestral shared a snicker as they finished their tasks relatively quickly, but the Unicorn herald was forced to continue tirelessly announcing each noble of the Solar Court. Once properly introduced, the nobles were shown to their places for the deliberation. All in all, the process took well over two hours.
Finally, the Thestral smiled as he began to his drum, while spike hallooed on his trumpet with a triumphant smirk. With their number complete, the Thestral cleared his throat and proclaimed in a voice loud enough for all to hear. “Now presenting the High Duke of the Lunar Court, Pensword of the house of Pen!”
The doors parted and Pensword entered, dressed in his ursa robes that parted occasionally to reveal a cloth uniform bedecked with medals and sashes that constituted the many awards he had earned for his valiant service. He continued to stride confidently and quietly to the ground floor, where he took his place in one of three empty seats, next to Lunar Fang. Behind Pensword, all the rest of the Lunar Court sat patiently. An empty seat lay before the Solar Court, and lastly, a chair lay further down before the three thrones of Equestria. Lunar Fang smiled and leaned over from her chair to kiss her husband.
Once more the fanfare sounded, this time with all three heralds playing in unison. The rhythm alone made most of the solar court stir, startled as the three princesses rose from their thrones. Spike strode forward confidently and cleared his throat, before addressing the room.
“Presenting the lord of the Everfree; Hero of the First, Second, and Third Gryphon wars; the Lord Protector; and a Savior of Equestria several times over and his lovely wife, the Element of Generosity. Give it up for Lord and Lady Strike of House Strike!”
Hammer Strike and Rarity walked in at a stately pace. A Pony could hear a pin drop in the silence that accompanied their advance. The two maintained a casual air as they approached the thrones. Upon reaching their destination, Celestia and Luna ignited their horns in unison and a familiar chair appeared on the ground beneath the princesses’ platform. Several gasps played through the room as Hammer Strike moved forward to claim that chair. Rarity separated to her own spot near Twilight’s throne, even as Hammer Strike took his seat amongst the replica dragon scales and the plush cushioned seat of the Lord Protector’s throne.
With this grand entrance out of the way, most of the Solar Court turned to the princesses, thinking the ceremony to be over. Thus, they were reasonably shocked and/or appalled when Grif strode, nonplussed, into the room. Since he had no herald, he’d set a small music box on his back that played Disney’s It’s a Small World. The sudden entrance caused no small stir as cries of indignation and outrage poured from the solar nobles. Many looked to the princesses, expecting swift punishment with eager sneers. Those soon melted to utter bafflement as they saw how occupied Celestia and Luna had become trying to hold back their giggles.
“Since I currently lack someone to do it for me, I suppose I’ll introduce myself.” Grif thickened his Phrench accent as he spoke, sounding almost like Kahn. “I present myself, Grif Bladefeather, son of Graf, and clan leader of the Bladefeather Clan of Equestria. Please, do not speak, mon petit cheries. I know the honor is all yours.” Grif gave an overdramatic bow and blew a kiss to several overly confused noblewomen, before he strutted, much like a peacock, to his own place beside one of the pillars. Once properly seated, he shut the music box and stored it in his pack.
Celestia and Luna took a moment to work the mirth out of their systems, before they signaled the guards to seal the chamber. A subtle nod from Luna, which was caught by the Solar Court, caused a small murmur in their ranks, but it settled as Celestia rose from her throne and moved to a lectern off to the side.
“This first meeting of the combined Courts of Twilight, Lunar, and Solar is hereby brought to order.” She banged a gavel. “First order is to rectify an empty chair. As the Lunar Court has a High Duke, so shall the Solar Court have their own High Duke.” She smiled. “As such, in gratitude for their house’s long service, and how they have always put the Pony first, no matter their station, it is hereby decreed that from this point forward, this stallion be elevated to the noble station of High Duke. Congratulations, High Duke Fancy Pants. You and all your bloodline shall hold this title for so long as you remain worthy of it. Please, step down and assume your place.”
A series of low murmurs and a few hoof stomps were all the congratulations voiced as Fancy Pants slowly walked down to his new seat. Celestia smiled as she stepped aside and took her throne, while Luna stepped forward and cleared her throat.
“Ladies and Gentlecolts, I welcome you to this meeting. Rest assured, food will be provided, and we shall continue forward, until we either pass the bill for which this session has been called to order or it hits nine tonight. We will then continue our deliberations at an hour after sunrise tomorrow. This process will continue, until either this bill passes or it is unanimously defeated.” Her horn glowed and a scroll suddenly popped into existence on the desks in front of each of the nobles’ seats, including Grif’s. “This is the bill as written for your considerations. We encourage you to review its contents, before we proceed. We shall then open the floor for arguments for and against the bill. We look forward to your words and insights.”
A young Noble stood up abruptly. “House Glitter wishes to speak.”
Luna looked back to Celestia, who nodded her head. Then the princess of the night turned to face the noble once again. “House Glitter has permission to speak. What would you lay before the body?” she asked.
“Thank you, Your Majesty.” The noble bowed his head respectfully. “House Glitter wishes to move to veto the bill as it stands. To put it bluntly, we don’t feel a military is necessary. We have three powerful Alicorns acting as our current rulers. One of them embodies the very core of magic itself, who has yet to even begin to probe the full extent of her power. Another holds the power to control the course of the sun; and the third controls the waxing, waning, and shifting of the moon, including its effects on the ocean and the tides. On top of this, we have the Lord Protector, who has killed Dragons in the name of protecting our nation. We even have a Gryphon loyalist whose honor and prowess in the field of battle are the stuff of legends. Frankly, I don’t see why we nobles would need to risk the lives of those who depend on us by enlisting them in such service, when we already have so much that stands in our favor.”
Grif looked to Hammer Strike, when the noble was done. He held his talons up to Luna, who was already fuming. “Clan Bladefeather wishes to speak.”
Hammer Strike gave a nod of approval to Luna, who also nodded in turn as she regained mastery over herself. “As the first certified clan leader under the accords struck with the Gryphon Empire, Grif Grafson also has the right to speak, for his title is the equivalent of noble rank, and is to be respected. Will anyone dare to challenge this right?” She gazed out over the gathering as several gasps whispered in a mighty wave. Despite this, nopony spoke out. Luna noded. “Then let it be so. Grif Grafson, you may proceed.”
Grif cleared his throat and stood from his seat. “Let it be known to the representatives of the courts. To any who would make the motion to veto so early in the proceedings, clan Bladefeather will duel them. The arguments have yet to even be made for or against this bill in the first place. You have no right to seek to destroy it, without even being willing to listen to the reasons of justification. Any Pony so foolhardy doesn’t deserve the right to rule. As such, it will be my pleasure to remedy that situation. This duel will take place at dawn, and it will be to the death, in accordance with the ancient ways that you seem so keen to protect, Glitter,” the Gryphon said callously. “The weapon of choice shall be yours, of course.” He gave the young noble a small nod of the head. It was clear this would be the foppish Pony’s only chance to back out.
Glitter’s coat suddenly became very pale as he began to shake. His voice trembled as he uttered his reply. “House Glitter wishes to amend its rather,” he cleared his throat, “hasty call to veto to a question. Why do we need a military? As I mentioned before, we have entities capable of greater destruction than any opposing force might be able to muster. Even you, yourself, are among them, Clansleader, with the blessing of your gods. I really don’t see the necessity for this act.”
“Because what you have named are sources we cannot absolutely rely on to defend the nation. Even with all our power, we would have scarcely enough numbers and resources to defend us both on our borders and within our country. Believe it or not, just because we are powerful does not mean that we are omnipotent, Baron Glitter. Nor does it mean that we can be omnipresent. Equestria has seen no less than three Changeling attacks in the last two years. Our outlying villages suffer from constant monster incursion. What were once whole populated zones have been lost. How long do you think House Glitter’s coffers would last, when they must import their bread, rather than make it, my little Pony? And all because we can only defend so many areas alone. Please, enlighten us. Where is the logic in that?” Luna managed to keep her tone even through the response, and the last piece even managed to come across as smug.
“House Glitter will find a way, even if it means growing grain on the hills of this mountain,” Glitter insisted. “But we still don’t understand the need for this expenditure.”
“House Glitter understands, of course, that they shall have to pay for mercenaries to clear the land to plant the grain on, as well as guard it, since the defenders you put so much faith in could be called away at a moment’s notice to face a threat on another front. Then you’ll also have to pay the workers to farm the grain, harvest it, mill it, and bake the bread, all of which will require facilities capable of doing so, which will require more mercenaries to protect. Mercenaries also will require weapons and a smith to upkeep them,” Luna noted. Some of the Solar Court actually seemed to be nodding as they considered the cost of such ventures.
Glitter frowned and slowly sat down as his face contorted in a look of utmost concentration, even as his head flamed red from the utter humiliation he’d just endured.
“Make no mistake. My sister, Princess Twilight, and myself have discussed things at length. Until the Guard is at a level Lord Hammer Strike finds acceptable, the nobility will no longer have the right to request them to defend personal property. There will no longer be the purchasing of a rank for your children. And from now on, a council from all walks of Equestrian society will decide on recruiting practices. That, dear subjects, is not up for debate.”
The rank and file of the nobles broke out in a cacophony of sound that rebounded off the walls, causing the very crystals in the room to vibrate and tinkle against one another as the throes of objection, argument, and counter-argument raged through the air.
Luna slowly stepped away, leaving the pavillion to whichever of the two princesses who wished to speak next. Celestia giggled impishly as she leaned over to speak into her sister’s ear.
“Luna, I do believe that this is the first time I’ve ever seen the Solar Court speak up and down the rows, and not just across.”
Twilight was busy watching as the Lunar Court silently took notes of the Solar Court and her own, until the flicker of Celestia’s rainbow mane drew her attention back to the lectern, where the Alicorn of the sun prepared to speak. Her voice rang out through the halls richly and clearly, spreading like a blanket to muffle and ultimately stifle the uproar.
“Considering the fact that this announcement has come as such a shock to you all, it sees only fair that we give you the chance to adjust and converse among yourselves about this development. As such, it is ruled that this meeting shall be in recess for the next quarter of an hour. Those of you that leave are expected to return within the allotted time. If you do not, the consequences will be severe.” She slammed her hoof on the lectern, causing the detonation to echo through the room. “Let the recess commence.”
Ponies sprang from their seats, some literally taking flight as they raced to meet with their respective parties.
Baron Blueblood rose slowly, the very epitome of calm as he cleared his throat and raised his voice to carry over the crowd. The copy of the bill hovered unfurled beside him. “We wish to debate one thing at the start of the next discussion. Specifically, the list on how much military each noble is allowed to have, based on his or her rank.”
This time, a veritable hurricane of sound assaulted the princesses’ ears as nobles clamored for their scrolls. Curses, sputters, and outcries of rage or dismay surged as the body of nobles roiled along the surface of the chamber. All the while, Blueblood smirked as he met the cold expressions of his nemeses with the smugness of one secure in his position. “Let the games begin,” he muttered.
Extended Holiday Ch 142: There Will be Blood Act 22
“And here is the noble Hurricane estate, where Commander Pensword had his birthright and adoption into the founding family recognized a second time,” the guide, a somewhat tall and lanky Unicorn mare with an overly curly blond mane and horn-rimmed glasses said. “It was quite the scandal, let me tell you.”
“Um, excuse me.” A white hoof shot up from the middle of the crowd.
“Yes?”
“What birthright are you talking about, exactly? Pensword was adopted into a family that was a mixture of Thestral and Pegasus. His father wasn’t even remotely related to the Hurricanes.”
The eyes of the crowd turned to stare at the Unicorn with a carefully coiffed mane, a leather holster at his waist, and a long white staff on his back.
The mare barked a single derisive laugh. “You must have gotten your facts mixed up, dearie. I happen to have this information from the highest authority.”
“You mean Pensword, himself?”
“Well, naturally not. You don’t really expect a Pony to air his own dirty laundry, do you? And as you said yourself, he was adopted.” She practically purred as she bore her teeth in a vicious smile.
“So who was your source?”
“A good reporter never reveals her secrets,” the mare chided.
The stallion narrowed his gaze. “You know, you remind me of a very unpleasant character I read about once in a book.”
“And you remind me of a knowitall apologist who isn’t willing to accept facts. Now then, moving on. Next, we’ll stop at the Third Gryphon War museum, where we’ll review an account from Pensword’s personal journals.”
“Oh, now that’s just bogus!”
“Excuse me?”
“I know for a fact that none of Pensword’s personal journals were recovered, after he disappeared from Equestria.”
“Just who do you think you are?”
“Name’s Vital Spark. I’m a close friend of the Commander. I work for Lord Hammer Strike on a part time basis, and I go running with Grif Grafson’s Rohirrim every morning. Maybe you’ve heard of me?”
The mare laughed mockingly. “And I’m Princess Celestia.” The whole crowd erupted into hysterics at that point. That is, until they all suddenly lost their footing and slammed their faces against ice-covered cobblestones that had been bone-dry just moments before.
“Did I forget to mention I study under Clover the Clever?” Vital asked in a cold voice. “And I don’t take kindly to people insulting my honesty.” He raised his staff in his magical aura. “Of course, if you’d like, we can settle this with a magical duel, Miss Mill. Clover trained me for combat, but I’m sure I can manage to tone it down enough to suit nonlethal standards.”
The mare continued to skitter along the cobblestones of the street.
“Ah, but I see you’re otherwise occupied. Let me help you with that.” One flash of light later, the ice was gone, and the Ponies rose shakily onto their hooves again. Vital Spark’s eyes narrowed. “Anyone else want to question my legitimacy?”
For some reason, nopony spoke up.
“Good.”
The guide was on him in a matter of moments, her eyes wide with delight. “Oh my Celestia! Vital the Virtuous in my tour group? I couldn’t have asked for a better scoop, if Celestia herself were to give me an interview! You simply must tell me about life at New Unity.” A notepad and quill flew from her pack to hover in the air next to her. “I want to know everything.”
Vital was gentle but firm as he pushed the exuberant mare aside. “I’ll take a hard pass. People like you give journalism a bad name, if your historical ‘facts’ are anything to go off of for your writing style. As for the rest of you, I’d suggest you consider doing a little research of your own, rather than taking a gossip’s word as gospel. And as for me, well,” he turned to glare at Mill. “I’d rather not listen to Rumor Mill spin another yarn to smear my friends’ good names. Good day,” he said curtly, before marching resolutely up the street and out of sight.
Rumor Mill glared after the Pony, but then smirked as she pocketed a single cylindrical paper package that smelled distinctly of gunpowder. “I get the feeling we’ll be seeing each other again very soon, Vital Spark.” She chuckled to herself, then raised her voice. “Well, come on. We still have plenty more sights to see, and you know the policy. No refunds,” she sang, much to the chagrin of many of the tourists.
Princess Celestia sneezed suddenly. She sniffled, before accepting one of any number of proffered handkerchiefs. When she’d properly cleared her nose, she returned to the pulpit and slammed the gavel home, calling the court to order. “Please, take your seats.” She peered around the room, satisfied to see everypony had opened the scrolls to reveal the bill more thoroughly. “Now that you’ve all had the chance to review the bill properly, we can begin discussion and deliberations. The Lunar Court will now have their chance to voice any opinions or dissents briefly, before opening the floor to general discussion. After a sufficient amount of time has passed, we will adjourn for another brief recess, and will open again with the Twilight Court. After that, we’ll open the floor to everypony to speak and deliberate.”
A surly murmur rose in response, but the crowd held their peace as a Thestral with a series of white diamonds tracing down his fur beneath his mane strode forward. “I am Diamondback, of the Viper Tribe,” he began. “It is clear that we Thestrals aren’t shy about a fight. However, while the language of this bill speaks of an assembly of military force, I can’t help but notice it says nothing about how we are to prepare this force for combat. What sort of training program were you intending to implement for this hypothetical military?”
“An excellent question,” Luna said as she rose to join her sister at the podium. “The test bed for the training has been conducted, and was started by the three humans in what is now New Unity. Until the military is large enough to start their own academies, we will utilize the training methods established by Lord Shawn, Monster Hunter Taze, and the attache Matthew.”
“Do you have documents showing how effective this training regimen has been?”
Twilight strode forward with a confident smile as she levitated an easel with several canvases and stacks of cardboard in her magic. “I can answer that,” she said as she laid one of the boards on the easel. Then she cast a spell to project a larger image of the chart into the air above for all the lords and ladies of the courts to see. “If you’ll kindly look at this chart, you’ll see a projection of the casualty reports from the first Changeling invasion compared to the second and third ones. As you can see, the number of units captured or killed are significantly higher in the first projection, whereas a well-trained force under the tutelage of the humans’ and Hammer Strike’s leadership has led to significantly less losses under far greater adversity.
“Please note that these losses from the first invasion occurred with my brother as the head of the Royal Guard. That is no longer the case. Without his leadership and attention, I project a sharp increase to a casualty rate that was already dangerously high. To be specific, eighty percent. That includes fatality and captivation statistics. If you look at the statistics from New Unity, the losses they endured were only one tenth that projection. If we were to continue and incorporate Gryphon and Thestral techniques into military training, I project that the strength and skill of our troops would have been able to cull and turn back Chrysalis’ first siege in a single hour at most.”
Luna smiled gratefully to Twilight, then turned back to Diamondback. “Does that answer your question, or shall Princess Sparkle continue explaining her charts and graphs?”
“No, there is no need,” Diamondback assured her. “The princess has displayed your case most effectively. If such tactics have led to this much difference in so short a time, then we would benefit having our young learn from these warriors.” Diamondback bowed in respect, before sitting down again.
The Solar Courts side were a buzz and one noble stood up. “House Jade wishes to make a comment.”
“House Jade may speak,” Luna said.
“We wish to standardize this meeting’s laws of conduct. The Lunar Court shows a more … open method of deliberation with less structure. It is a rather sharp contrast compared to how the Solar Court has often conducted itself for centuries. If it please Your Highnesses, I would like to make the motion that we remove the necessity to ask permission to speak and simply pose our questions as our fellows in the Lunar Court do.”
“That would be for Celestia to decide,” Luna said bluntly. “You speak of traditions and precedents set up in ages past to keep these meetings from devolving into pointless shouting matches. The Lunar Court has no such tradition, and has never needed it. Seeing as they are governed by me, they will continue in the way they are accustomed, unless, of course, you are moving that tomorrow's session take place at Filly de Ys, so that the territories these meetings take place at are also perfectly equal?”
Jade gaped a moment, then regained his composure. “We’ll speak with Celestia later about a potential compromise. All that we ask is that if the Lunar Court wishes to make a motion with the bill or amend it, they follow the laws of Canterlot.”
“Celestia?” Luna asked suddenly.
“Yes, Sister?” Celestia asked sweetly.
“Last time a noble referenced you informally in the middle of court session, I believe the punishment was banishment from court for seven years, was it not?”
She raised a brow. “That was over a thousand years ago.”
“Has the law been changed?” Luna asked.
“After I had to banish you, Sister, I … slowly let it go, but it is technically still on the books,” Celestia mused.
“House Jade, who has been attempting to push tradition, has just broken this law. Are you willing to overlook it, if he is to withdraw and stop wasting time picking over differences in the court, or shall I ask the Lord Protector to show him out?”
“I can do that for now, but the lords and ladies of the Solar Court do have a point. Tonight, you and I need to have a talk about a united set of laws for when we hold joint sessions. For if we are to be united as a nation, then should our council’s laws not also be united?”
“Agreed.” Luna smiled. “The three of us will set aside time at a later point to discuss the matter more thoroughly.” Then she turned to look pointedly at the representatives of House Jade. “Well, Jade, will you withdraw?”
“House Jade does not see why we must withdraw, when the issue we raised has been sufficiently addressed.”
Luna nodded to Hammer Strike. “You have been asked to withdraw, because despite the fact that not one, but two courts have made their way to Canterlot for these proceedings, in order to make things easier for the nobles of the Solar Court, you still demand more of the Lunar and Twilight courts and of our royal person in the medium of wasted time nitpicking over thousand-year-old traditions the Solar Court invented for themselves. Then you have the gall to criticize the traditions and means of government established by the Thestral clans long before your Solar Court even existed. This matter is too important to allow the usual song and dance that is dishonest politics. You and those who share your opinions on the matter are wasting precious time and money on searching for any technicalities that you might be able to exploit. This behavior will not be tolerated anymore. Lord Hammer Strike, if you would?”
Hammer Strike stood from his throne and proceeded to make his way towards the individuals of House Jade. “By royal decree, you are to leave immediately, either of your own free will or by my own hooves.”
Baron Blueblood stood. “Princess Celestia, Princess Luna, Princess Sparkle, may I say one thing, before House Jade is removed?”
“You have one sentence, Baron. Make it count,” Luna stated bluntly.
“Do we not need every house and noble to vote? The message was that all nobles in all the land must be here to vote on this bill. If House Jade is removed, does that not render this entire meeting void?”
“Should a noble house prove to be too disruptive, their presence is not required. If a vote were to take place, this would also prove to be a waste of time, as well as the fact that the allies of House Jade may cast a vote in their stead,” Hammer Strike replied simply. “This interruption will be added to the list of interruptions by the Solar Court as well.”
The Solar Court broke into an absolute uproar at that point, and Pensword banged his head against his desk in response. Finally, the newly elevated High Duke Fancy Pants cleared his throat.
“If I may be so bold, might I propose a recess, Princess Celestia? It seems that Your Highnesses’ sudden firmness has heightened certain tensions. I believe my fellow nobles may need some time to regain their senses.”
The Thestrals were busy pinning their ears back on their heads, while the members of Twilight’s court gaped in astonishment at the sheer level of contention in the room.
“Shall we make it for, oh, say, fifteen minutes?” Fancy suggested as he looked questioningly at Pensword.
“Yes, please,” Pensword agreed in an exhausted groan, before putting his head back down on the cool surface of the table.
Luna sighed heavily. “Very well. Fifteen minutes it is.”
Celestia banged her gavel, and the room emptied into lobbies and other areas that had been set up within the structure. Pensword stayed at his desk, while his wife ran a hoof down his mane and neck. His eyes shut tight as the cacophony from the halls hammered through his ears and into his skull.
“Less than an hour in, and I already have a headache,” he groaned.
Grif also stayed at his desk, but he was taking the time to go over the session in his head, taking note of the actions of the Solar Court and looking for any signs that they had either made or lost allies during the first deliberations.
Hammer Strike sighed to himself as he ensured everyone but the selected party had left the room.
“Dreadful business,” Fancy Pants muttered. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll try to draw their ire off by making an appearance. I think I can sway a few to our side with my new status, but no matter what way you look at it, the Solar Court’s disgraced itself today.” He sighed, then shook his head, before striding past Pensword’s desk and up the stairwell to where Grif sat in thought.
“They’re used to Celestia's more passive style of pulling strings behind the scenes,” Grif noted. “Luna’s not a politician. She tends to handle things in the most direct way.”
Fancy Pants nodded his head as he passed the warrior. “Frankly, it feels refreshing having a Pony say something and actually mean it.”
Later that evening, the friends convened back in Grif’s house. Multiple Thestrals were busy nursing their heads after a long first day. The afternoon had gone civilly, at least until an argument over the amount the Solar Court would have to pay to sustain their troops came up. It had gotten so bad that Celestia and Luna had to dismiss the other two courts just to haggle with the Solar nobles behind closed doors. Needless to say, Celestia was not amused. She had made a special point of alerting the nobles that the next meeting would be in reduced light to cater to the Ponies the Solar nobles had harmed, albeit inadvertently, by their actions.
Pensword was currently laying on a couch with a cold compress over his eyes as he struggled not to move his body.The drapes had been drawn over the windows and everypony was doing their best not to speak.
“Well, I think it went quite well. Don’t you?” Grif asked as he lounged in a chair with a drink.
“Not so loud,” Lunar Fang hissed as a few Thestrals groaned in pain. Then she spoke in a whisper. “What makes you say that?”
“I didn’t have to kill anybody,” Grif said. “That's better than I thought it would be.”
“Though I wonder where Vital Spark is. It is getting late, and he still isn’t home yet.”
“I’ll give him another ten minutes, then I’ll go look for him,” Grif said.
“Look for who?” Vital Spark asked as he stepped into the room. “And why’s it so dark in here?”
The cheerful Pony’s question was met with groans, moans, and angry hisses as swears flew through the air like crossbow fire. “Shut up,” Pensword snapped. “We’ve got migraines, so either whisper or be silent.”
“Perhaps we should go to another room,” Grif told Vital quietly.
“Before we get torn to shreds by a legion of angry Thestrals? Yeah, I’d call that a sound plan,” Vital agreed as he eyed the Ponies warily.
Grif got to his feet and led the Unicorn out, quietly explaining the events of the day.
“Ouch. And suddenly, I don’t feel so bad about that encounter with Rita Skeeter,” Vital said.
“Politics is a deadly game, my friend,” Grif chuckled.
“Naturally.” Vital looked clinically at his pistol as he withdrew it from its holster. “Care to join me for a cleaning?”
“Might as well.” Grif shrugged. “It’s going to be a long week.”
The night was cool and crisp as the mist from the waterfall was spread over the city by an errant breeze generated by the Pegasi on weather duty. The night lamps had long since burnt out and the guard was en route to change. A tiny ladybug flitted through the air, fussing around one of the guards’ noses. The stallion promptly smacked his own face, causing his partner to laugh as he nursed his nose, while the ladybug flitted past once more. It flew along the ghostly breeze, letting itself be blown towards the lower parts of town, until it rode up to a rickety old shack by the waterfall’s base. Its dangling shutters creaked noisily as they waved back and forth on their last legs. Old rotten boards barely clung to the crumbling remains of window frames as the insect made its way inside and dropped to the ground.
The ladybug’s antennae twitched a few times as it took in the space. Then it flitted through an empty door frame to a hall situated on a rickety landing. It descended to the floor and peered around briefly, before fluttering its wings a few times to clear off any last droplets. Then the insect’s feelers began to glow at their tips. The light grew brighter and brighter, until it flashed and died. In the place of the ladybug, there now stood a Unicorn mare in a black trench coat with its collar flipped up to obscure her face and mane.
“Greetings, Miss Mill,” a silky voice whispered as a cloaked Pony stepped into the moonlight from beneath the stairs. “I take it your mission was a success?”
Rumor Mill smirked as she flipped open her satchel and levitated the cartridge she’d stolen. “You know I wouldn’t have come otherwise, Shadow.”
A muted green glow emanated around the figure’s horn, and a darker green aura began to circle Rumor’s yellow one, until the packet broke free, held firmly in Mill’s magical grip. “Not so fast,” she said. “You know the deal. I want my–.” She gasped suddenly and buckled down to her knees as the light from her horn buzzed, flickered, and then died completely. Her eyes widened as she watched gravity take control. “What…?” She didn’t have time to say anything else as the packet flared suddenly and then … disappeared.
Shadow stared wide-eyed at the pool of blood draining out from the mare’s lower torso as it thumped down onto the floor, spreading her bowels for all to see. There was no sign of the rest of her body. “By all the mothers,” he swore as a light buzz came into his voice. He ran as quickly as his hollow hooves could carry him. Translucent wings slit through the jacket’s back as he took flight, and a muted green flicker of flame quickly changed his form as he dove into the water and swam for his life.
Grif arrived on the scene a mere instant later. He had a knife clenched in either taloned hand and scanned the area carefully, before his eyes fell upon what was left of the mare’s body. He made his way to it, sheathing one of the knives, and bent to examine the wounds as he waited for Hammer Strike.
It took the Earth Pony a while, but he eventually made it to the location and sighed. “Seems like someone was looking into the flintlocks.”
“These wounds are definitely thaumic in nature.” Grif nodded. “Also, the air seemed gone for a moment. At least we know your contingency plan works.”
Hammer Strike hummed to himself as he inspected the damage. “Based off the scale, it was the ammunition that was interacted with.” He turned his attention to the body for a moment. “Quickly. Check the area for any others.”
“No need for that,” Grif said as he traced the area around them. “There was another Pony involved. Stallion. A Unicorn, I expect. The explosion probably scared him off. I could try to track him, but by the looks of things, he escaped by magic.”
After a moment, Hammer Strike nodded. “They can at least spread the fear to others, I suppose.”
“At least we’d have known if they got more than one, right?” Grif asked.
Hammer Strike shrugged. “Even if they got more, let them try their methods. Perhaps, one of these times, it’ll create something for us to collect.”
“I’ll dispose of this.” Girf gestured to the body. “You probably should talk with Vital.”
“Correct.” He frowned. “Need to warn him once again to keep an eye on his possessions.”
“Shouldn’t be anything wrong with destroying the rest thaumically, right? I mean, the important stuff’s already gone.”
“I suppose not,” Hammer Strike sighed. “I’ll be off now. If you have need for me further, you have your ways of reaching me.”
“Yeah.” Grif nodded as he sheathed his second knife. Then he created a small wind thaumic crystal and placed it between the back legs of the corpse. He took several steps back, before snapping his talons. The crystal flared for a moment, and then it and the corpse were gone, leaving only the blood that was out of range and a small pit behind. Grif dug up a few handfuls of fresh soil and covered the blood. Then he turned back to the main portion of the home. There was still work to be done.
It was two days later, after lunch, that a Solar Court noble stood up to voice his next objection. “While this is fine, how are we going to produce the weapons for these troops? While we have the Lord Protector, I doubt that we could rely on him alone to outfit every Pony to join the force.”
“Until we have a stable budget for which to further discuss such bidding, we ourself will be heading the production of arms and armor,” Luna answered. “There is no point talking about bidding, until the military has bits and a commander to spend them.”
The noble looked agast. “Princess, I wasn't even thinking of bidding. I simply wanted to know how we would outfit them. An army without gear is just a gathering of bodies.”
Another noble stood, this time a confident mare with burning eyes. “I wish to add my voice to the gentlepony’s. It’s a legitimate concern What types of weapons will we have? The Minotaurs have their hammers, axes, and clubs. The Gryphons have magical cannons and powerful ships capable of devastating lightning attacks. Will we merely forge a hodgepodge of glass, wood, and mortar, or will we meet our potential adversaries with true quality?”
Luna’s horn ignited. In an instant, Meteor Impact hovered by her side. “Tell me, Lady, do you know what this is?” the princess asked casually as she approached the mare.
“Your weapon, one which history says was forged in the Third Gryphon War and connected to you. Does that mean you intend to perform a similar feat with each soldier’s weapon as well?”
Luna laid the hammer in front of the mare. “Examine it, please; its angles and its contours. Tell me, what quality would you say this weapon has? Be honest. There will be no consequences.”
She spent a good five minutes examining it, looking at small the various edges and grooves ranging from the gilding to the quality and condition of the material in the head. She even went so far as to pull out a magnifying glass. In all that time, not a sound escaped her lips. Finally, she pulled back to look her princess in the eye. “I see a weapon made by expert hooves. I have noted a certain amount of decay in the inlay that’s recently been recast. I assume that was to replace any portions that had become too corroded to salvage. That being said, the metal shines brightly, and I could detect the scent of the oils and polish you use to maintain its life. You clearly care for this weapon very much.”
“Can you identify the metal in its head?”
“I cannot, at least I don’t think I can. I certainly haven’t seen its like before.”
The Solar Court held its breath as they eyed the mare, wondering just what Princess Luna had in mind.
“Will she go back on her word?” one of them whispered. Pensword’s ears twitched in irritation as the speculation continued.
“Only if she backs her into a corner,” the fellow replied. “Soulfire always was a little too hasty for her own good.”
“This is moonlight, my dear lady.” Luna’s gentle voice washed over the room as she explained to the mare. “We live in a land where the ground sends us ores already imbued with powers that only our people can properly draw out. Silverite, mythril, oricalcium, brightsteel, volcanium. We can create weapons and armor with power that others cannot begin to fully understand. But if you require further proof of our ability, we have designs for airships unlike Equis has ever seen. We have plans for siege weapons that will reduce even the stoutest walls to rubble, and we have our battle mages, who will finally be mobilized in the rank and file, rather than living within the colleges and towers of our lands. We will let any enemy know that we and our Ponies will not be trampled.”
Soulfire looked at the hammer, and then at Luna. “I’d like to see these concepts at some point.” Then she cast her gaze on Princess Celestia, cleared her throat, and raised her voice. “Soulfire is an old name for an old house. In the past, we produced soldiers and weapons the likes of which few have ever seen. We held the only contract for building the trebuchets, after the engine’s invention, a fact that we are proud of to this day. We wish to be part of this future. Even if our role is so simple as cleaning casting molds, I would like to offer my services and that of my house to the cause.”
The stallion at her side balked as he swept his gaze to stare at the mare in utter dismay. He spoke through clenched teeth, even as he smiled to the rest of the crowd. “That part of our history is done, dear. Let history pick another solar house. We have such a rich business working gems. For Faust’s sake, why do you have to be so stubborn about this?”
Lady Soulfire fixed her husband with a cold glare. “Because, darling, I’ve wanted to enchant more than mundane goblets or bits of jewelry. I want a challenge. Besides, with the number of battles Equestria has faced in the last few years alone, do you honestly think this won’t be more profitable?”
Lord Soulfire cringed back from his wife’s implaccable gaze, and Lady Soulfire smirked.
“Good boy.”
“When the time comes, we will remember you, Lady Soulfire. You have our gratitude for your support.” Luna gave the noble a friendly smile as she retrieved the weapon. Then it vanished in a flash of starlight. “Few mortals have done so well identifying the weapon’s quirks and weaknesses. You have a truly skilled eye.” With that, Luna returned to her place.
Lady Soulfire beamed at the compliment, even as she heard the condescending comments from the other nobles. Threats, complaints, scoffs, the usual thing. They would see soon enough, however, that she knew how to play the long game better than most.
“Any other questions on this matter?” Luna asked.
On the Lunar Court side, a few of the families stood up. “May we help in the forges, High Chieftess?”
“We will gather smiths from all the courts for this venture. Any with pliable skill in weapons or armor crafting will not be turned away,” Luna clarified. “And we will do our best to compensate you from our own royal coffers.”
“No, Luna.” For a moment, the Lunar Princess gaped at her sister, and then her eyes slitted briefly as her temper began to flare. The Solar nobles clamored to their hooves to look down at the drama unfolding below. Some looked eager, almost hungry. Others were frightened. Celestia remained nonplussed as she laid a gentle hoof on her sister’s shoulder. “I will compensate them. If this is truly to be a joint effort, it’s only fair that we share the burden together.”
Luna’s eyes softened as her voice caught in her throat. “Thank you, Sister.”
“Pardon me, Princess,” Applejack said as she stood up, “but if there really is gonna be a refinery set up in New Unity eventually, how’s that gonna affect the surrounding land? I’ve seen factories and the like before. They put off fumes something’ awful.”
“Have the forges and refineries in New Unity currently caused any trouble?” Luna asked.
“Not really, but there ain’t so many folks working’ on ‘em either. I guess the real question is just how big are these refineries gonna get?”
“For now, we’ll be using the existing facilities beneath Canterlot, as well as my own facilities. Later, we will work on a way to produce with the smallest environmental impact possible,” Luna explained.
“How many are coming to Ponyville?” Pinkie asked. “I can’t plan a welcome party, if I don’t know how many guests I’m working with.”
“Dame Pie, I would ask you bring such questions up in a more private setting in the future. For now, I can only say we don’t have such numbers at this time.” Luna shook her head, chuckling.
“But you’ll get them to me as soon as you do, riiiiiight?” the pink mare asked as her neck stretched uncomfortably close to the Lunar Alicorn.
“You will be amongst the first to know.”
Pinkie’s head snapped back like a rubber band, vibrating rapidly, until she managed to stick both her hooves up to stop it. “Okie dokie lokie!”
“Um, the animals will still be able to keep their homes, won’t they?” Fluttershy asked meekly.
“Yes, Dame Fluttershy,” Luna nodded.
“Pardon me for sounding ignorant, but what about transportation? I assume some form of supply chain will have to be established to help get the products where they need to go, if the military really is being re-established throughout the kingdom as a whole,” Rarity noted.
“We will be endeavouring to create new railroad routes spanning the country from coast to coast to allow for speedy transfer of goods and equipment between locations.”
“And who will escort these goods, while training is taking place?”
“The crown will be hiring mercenaries to handle needed protection, until such time as troops are up to the task.”
“I assume these mercenaries will be from an organization other than the Bladefeathers?” Blueblood inquired. “The nature of your friendship with him and his lord both could prove as a conflict of interest. It is your money, of course, but I would personally recommend you employ the Sparra Clan. From what I understand, they specialize in that sort of service.”
“Clanleader Bladefeather has already suggested them, Baron. You would do well to consider your words more carefully, as Grif and his clan have refused all contracts related to the military to prevent exactly the conflict you described.” Luna couldn’t help but smile as she noted the baron’s ears flicker. It was the only outward display he showed, but it spoke volumes about his annoyance.
“Just to clarify,” Rainbow Dash said, much to the amazement of just about every Solar noble present, “this bill will allow for any Equestrian citizen to join, no matter what race, species, or tribe they may be a part of, right?”
“That is correct, Dame Dash,” Luna nodded.
“Good. Then I have another question. Does that mean we can stop putting so much magic into casting a glamour charm over guard armor? I mean, it’s pretty impractical, if we’re going to have that much diversity, and it’ll give the mages that much more energy to channel somewhere else, instead of constantly having to recharge the spells.”
“That is a great point, Dame Dash; however, that would be something to be decided by my sister, I’m afraid.”
“I believe you mean by all three of us,” Celestia corrected. This is to be the Equestrian military, after all. Though I think you can already guess where my vote would lean.” She winked at Luna.
“I’m guessing this is a policy we’ll have to go over later,” Twilight said. “How about we get back to the bill for now?” she suggested.
“Quite right,” Celestia agreed. “Were there any other questions somepony wanted to pose?”
A Thestral stood up. “We wish for one of the Princesses to answer. How will we feed our troops? The diets of all involved is varied. Or is that to be discussed at a later day?”
“You raise a valid point. However, for now, since we only have a limited area for training in the first place, we have enough time to devise a proper plan for how to accommodate those dietary needs at a later date,” Celestia said.
The Thestral nodded her head respectfully and sat down.
Pensword listened intently, ears perked and eyes forward, but as the questions drew on, he allowed his mind a brief time to wander. He pondered how things were going back at New Unity, how Moon River was getting by, and finally what Vital Spark might have been up to during the last few hours. He spoke when it seemed appropriate, but otherwise held his peace, waiting for the moment when the three monarchs might require his support. One thing was for certain. There were still nobles on the fence that needed convincing, and they only had two more days to do it.
Shadow stood boldly in front of a great red-furred minotaur with a black headband tied just beneath his horns. The dim glow of mushroom caps was their only light to see by in the thick boughs of the trees. The brook babbled off in the distance as the Changeling fluttered his wings to shake off any remaining water droplets.
“You say the cartridge was trapped, but it gave off no magical aura?” the great bull questioned in a rolling brogue.
“None, Sir,” Shadow buzzed. “I was fortunate Miss Mill broke my grip on it when she did, or I might not have been able to make it back here to report.”
The Minotaur stroked his chin ponderously as he gazed off into the trees beyond. “This complicates things, then,” he murmured. “But not too much, provided we take the proper precautions.” He snapped his massive fingers and a series of ragged Ponies in shoddy sackcloth clopped forward. “Report,” he ordered.
“The bribes are all set, boss,” the foremost Pony grinned as he stepped forward. His frazzled faded red mane was held back by a tight green headband, and a single tooth was missing from his upper gums. “One word, and we can have free rein.”
“And the rose colored spell?”
A sleek Unicorn with a dark glossy brown mane and a rich red coat strode forward. Her gown accentuated all the right places as she smirked at their leader. “Already embedded in the barracks mirrors. Give me the word and any guards that aren’t willing to look the other way won’t even know what’s happening.”
“Then that leaves us with one final task.” He turned his gaze back on Shadow. “Can you do it?”
Shadow shook his head. “Best to use plan B. If they tracked that spell, they may recognize my scent.”
The Minotaur snorted. “Artifice Facsimile, you know what you have to do.”
A meek-looking mare with a long purple braid running down her shoulder approached. Her eyes were soft and her smile timid. That soon changed, however, as that smile widened into a confident sneer and her eyes hardened like agates. “But of course,” she said in a thick Phrench accent. “I can do it tomorrow, while they’re eating breakfast. Just remember my side. I want my cut of the profit the moment I report back, and safe transport as far away from Canterlot as you can manage. Grif Grafson is not to be trifled with. And I, for one, would prefer to keep my delicate figure intact.”
“I haven’t forgotten. Do your job right, and I may even double your price.”
“My my, Monsieur. You certainly know how to flatter a mare.”
The Minotaur rolled his eyes. “Go.”
“Of course.” Facsimile curtseyed, then backed out of sight.
“As for the rest of you, ready your weapons, and no drinking. The target’s green, but he’s still not to be underestimated. We move the moment the houses are in session. Spread the word to the rest of the camp. Tomorrow, we hunt.”
“And what would you have me do, Master Herne?” Shadow asked.
Herne smirked. “What you do best. Watch, wait, then strike.”
Shadow bowed. “It will be my pleasure.”
Five days. For five days, the nobles had met. For five days, arguments had raged back and forth and sledgehammers of logic slammed against the basalt of stubborn will. Tradition battled progress, and historical references had been contorted and twisted in so many different ways that it seemed more like a bunch of taffy than a proper account. Finally, the time had come. A large round table had been added on the floor by the princesses’ thrones with four great chairs waiting to be filled.
Changes had come and gone throughout the deliberations. The longest holdout had been the amount that the solar court would pay. They finally agreed on fifteen percent of their joint funds, while the rest would come from the ninety percent projected to come out of Luna’s funds to start the venture. The Lunar Court committed fifty percent, while Celestia agreed to add twenty from hers for any extra fees that might be incurred. It also had been decided that, instead of all the courts being together to hash out the minor details on the bill, they would take representatives from each party to form a military council that would deal with the day-to-day matters for maintaining the militia as a whole.
It was also agreed that there would be no campaigning involved. The representatives’ names would be put forth by each court and then be put to a vote as to whether they were acceptable to all parties.
Pensword was busily looking over his notes on the powers the military council would wield. It had been agreed that they would advise the princesses on all things military. However, a joint three-way veto from the princesses would nix anything the council might propose, thus limiting their control and allowing the three Alicorns to maintain ultimate charge of leadership.
For the first time in session, the room was actually silent as the Princesses left to count the ballots. They returned thirty minutes later. Twilight held the ballot box in her magic as she approached the pulpit and cleared her throat.
“We’ll begin with the representative from the Twilight court,” she said. “By unanimous decision, we have chosen Wonderbolt Cadet Rainbow Dash.” She waited for Rainbow Dash to stand from her seat, before turning to face the other two courts. “All in favor of our first member of the Military council?” The Lunar Court voted with a vast majority and only two dissenting votes, who made it known they preferred Fluttershy.
The Solar Court had more dissents, but ultimately passed the nomination.
Twilight Sparkle ignored the outrage and nodded to her friend. “Please move to the council table.”
Rainbow Dash didn’t need further prompting as she zoomed to the table, leaving her famous rainbow streak behind and turning the hats and heads of many a noble in the process.
“Next is a proxy nomination to represent the Gryphons who are living under Equestrian rule and laws. If this person is voted in, he will be the go-to Gryphon to teach modern tactics to the next generation of soldiers.” Twilight took a breath, filling her lungs to the utmost capacity she could manage. “Marie-Joseph Paul Yves Roch Gilbert du Motier de Lafayette.” She smiled as she pronounced the name perfectly. The smallish Gryphon walked from the shadows and descended down the stairs at a rigid pace, while the courts gaped, stunned.
Twilight’s voice soon filled the silence. “La Fayette is the crown’s first choice. He is unbiased and not connected to any of our courts here. He came here to teach, advise, and serve the concept of Unity. On top of this, his experiences and military knowledge and accolades are as long, if not longer than Grif and Pensword’s. As such, he is not a resource to be taken lightly.”
Twilight smiled as the Solar Court seemed to relax a small fraction. Then she dropped her second bombshell. “The Lunar Court, not counting those that wished to place High Chieftess Luna on the council, have nominated Commander High Duke Moonkissed Pensword.”
The Solar Court erupted with accusations of meddling, trying to dodge the retirement laws, and in one case, “deliberately pulling Equestria back into the stone age.”
Twilight waited for exactly one minute and ten seconds, before she took another big breath. SILENCE! She smiled as the room’s volume shut off like a switch. “Thank you,” she said, then cleared her throat. “To address anypony’s concerns, this election was performed via silent ballot. So if the Lunar Court wishes to place, as Count Ruby put it, ‘an old war pony who should be grazing on easy grains’ on the council, then that is their right.” For the first time in public, Twilight glared at the Solar Court, and most particularly at Count Ruby. “Considering this was specifically an election that could only be performed by and for the Lunar court, I believe it’s safe to say that your comment was out of line, Count.” She smiled then as she straightened her cue cards. “Or are you suggesting that the Lunar Court should have the right to debate over your nomination as well?”
Count Ruby gulped as he looked back at the other Ponies, particularly Blueblood. The baron nodded subtly, and the count turned again to face the princesses. Sweat beaded his brow as he let out a nervous chuckle and his voice cracked. “We … we’ll table our debate for now.” He adjusted his cravat to avoid the princesses’ gazes. “Just know that the Lunar Court is on thin ice with the Solar Court.”
“Like we were ever anything but,” a Thestral murmured.
Twilight and the Solar Court chose to ignore the comment.
“Right,” Twilight said. “That leaves the Solar Court, which is a little interesting, to say the least. We have three nominations for the one seat, said nominations being High Duke Fancy Pants, Prince Blueblood, and, finally, Captain Spitfire of the Wonderbolts.” She looked at Fancy Pants who raised a hoof.
“I wish to withdraw my candidacy, Princess. With my new elevation as High Duke, I doubt I’ll have the time, and I know next to nothing about the military, let alone of tactics. If it pleases those who voted for me, I would like to attribute those votes to Captain Spitfire.”
Twilight nodded. “Your words are reasonable, Fancy Pants, and we’d hate to push you beyond what you can handle. I only know too well what that’s like.” She smiled sheepishly. “As such, we hereby recognize and accept your words. However, the vote will have to be recast between the two candidates, after a proper debate between them.”
The room remained silent, a signal Twilight took to mean that the motion was accepted.
“Well, then, let’s get to it.”
Vital Spark’s ears twitched curiously as they pivoted about, searching for any sign of activity. For such a bustling city, the air had grown unusually still. Palace guards in golden armor tramped in their usual patrols through the streets, but the uniform trotting was about the only thing to disturb the otherwise perfect silence. What few stalls were open had little in the way of product, and were placed in front of various alleys and side street entrances. The mage had had enough training to know when to have his guard up, and his instincts reared at him, practically screaming to get the buck out of there as fast as his hooves could carry him.
However, Vital also knew that to run now would only garner attention, and would likely force a confrontation he may not be fully prepared for. Instead, he made his way casually to one of the many fountains throughout the squares of Canterlot and began to hum to himself as he used his magic to manipulate the water and freeze it into various shapes. Birds, rabbits, mice, and even the fragile Breezies soon sparkled in the midday light. The most curious creations, however, seemed to be what looked like some form of vessel, not unlike a perfume bottle. A circular pin attached to the stopper on top to lock the water in place, while a series of carved grid-like grooves offered the vessels a more utilitarian appearance. The occasional mutter would pass from his lips, while he pulled his staff off his back and began to run a cloth over its surface. As he did so, a dull blue sheen would shine from within the vessels, while the mist continued to wrap around him as he crafted.
“My my,” a sultry voice sounded as a Unicorn with curvaceous hips approached. She wore a stunning emerald satin dress, and her glossy brown mane shone in the afternoon light. Her eyes were a veritable kaleidoscope of color, shifting from gray to blue to green and all the colors of the rainbow. “And what have we here, an artisan at his work?”
Vital Spark smiled. “Would you care to purchase one of my goods, fair lady?” The light refracted off the mists, casting a halo of rainbows around them. “I hadn’t intended to sell, but if you really value them so much….”
The mare giggled. “Oh, you do yourself a disservice.” She clopped nearer, making some show of observing the figurines as her tail accidentally brushed past the stallion’s nose. “Such gifts deserve a … proper reward.” She batted her eyelashes at him as she grabbed hold of the Breezie and swayed her hips. “Don’t you think so?”
Vital Spark looked the mare up and down carefully, then levitated the vessels into his satchel. Lastly, he lifted the other figures into the air and clopped onto all fours. “I think we’ve about exhausted that line of conversation,” he said firmly. “I’m engaged, and while my marefriend may be all right with my seeing other mares, I’m pretty sure she’d prefer if I waited until after we got married.” He levitated a beautiful coiling snake over to her. “Keep this one, too, as an apology.” He nodded kindly to her as her horn ignited and she seized the figure in her own magic. “Farewell, madam.”
“W-wait! I don’t even know your name.”
“Oh, I’m pretty sure you know it.” Vital chuckled as the fog that had been emanating from the fountain suddenly rose in a great curtain, then surged outward in a flood. At the same time, the snake he’d formed sprung to life, hissing savagely as it curled around the mare’s horn and began to squeeze, biting at her mane and face. Her scream of fear soon turned to one of outrage that echoed and rebounded through the square, but the only set of hooves Vital Spark could hear running were his own. As he had suspected, something was amiss.
He flinched as a flash of blue light told him his arrow ward had activated. He quickly channeled his magic into the ground, spreading a sheet of ice in front of him. A few seconds later, a set of ice skating blades materialized under his hooves, and he was off. Two rugged Earth pony stallions leaped out of the alleyways up ahead. One wielded a savage guandao, while the other held a stout lance. They leveled them at the approaching Unicorn. Vital Spark narrowed his gaze and sped up, then projected his magic to create a ramp. His momentum carried him just out of the ambush’s reach, and he smirked as he twisted and allowed one of the vessels to drop. It tinkled musically as it struck the ground. Then Vital pulled out the pin with his magic. An explosion of frigid vapor enveloped the space, leaving the two Ponies frozen up to their heads in a solid block of ice.
Vital Spark winced as two more shatterings detonated in his ears and his mane was covered in the snowy remnants of two of his figurines, while the broken remnants of the shafts that had launched at him dropped to the cobbled streets below. A dreadful creaking and the half steely half crystalline hum of a magical aura were the only warning he received, before the next trap sprung. He cursed as razor spines shot out from his staff, slicing through the leather straps of satchel and armor both, causing the pieces to flap and clatter weakly as they struggled to hold onto his body.
“You’re not getting me that easily,” Vital growled. He yanked at the staff with his magic, tugging it loose with a nigh-herculean effort as he wrestled control of the weapon from whichever magic user had enchanted the wood. He flung the weapon against one of the walls, and barely heard a sound like breaking pottery as a sudden shockwave blew him off his hooves and into the side of a building.
“That’s enough of that,” a deep grating voice rumbled. Vital Spark rose as quickly as he could, but he was still dazed from the blow. He’d just managed to bring the hulking red Minotaur into focus, when he felt a sudden pain in the back of his head. Blackness descended soon after.
The first thing Vital Spark was aware of was the smell. The familiar dustiness of worn pages and manuscripts tickled playfully at his nostrils, like an old friend. Then came the headache. He furrowed his brow and grit his teeth, stifling the groan he so desperately wanted to utter, before opening his eyes to narrow slits.
“I don’t care if they want him unharmed. Just look at what that mongrel did to my face!”
An angry snort filled the air. “I warned you he was dangerous, Mirage. You knew the risks.”
“Nobody spurns my charms. Nobody!”
“That’s because almost every resident in upper Canterlot is a blithering idiot who can’t even be bothered to pay attention in magic class. What else were you expecting from a student of Clover the Clever herself?” A heavy hoof slammed on the ground and Vital Spark heard the distinctive rattling of something tapping against glass.
Through his narrowed field of vision, Vital Spark could just make out the hulking shape of the Minotaur that had knocked him against the wall. The sumptuous Unicorn from before was now covered in caked blood that snarled the fur on her mane and left her face pockmarked with swollen red blotches that throbbed beneath her fur, doubtless a consequence of the ice serpent’s enchanted bite. A dark thrill of satisfaction ran through him at the thought, and he thanked his lucky stars for being alert enough to keep his mind guarded when she first approached. Not that it mattered much now. The end result was still the same. He was captured, and now they were waiting to sell him off to who knew what enemy. He clenched his jaw to prevent a frustrated growl from ruining his act.
“You got your trophy from him. Leave it at that.”
Trophy? What could he possibly have had on him to–? And then it hit him as he suddenly became aware of the sensation of air blowing across the bare fur of his upper left foreleg, while the creak of a door opening, then closing, sounded in his ears. They took his band. It took every ounce of his self control to keep his breathing steady.
“Report,” the Minotaur ordered.
“All’s quiet in the halls, Sir. We have the men working on cleanup as we speak.”
“And the twins?”
“We’re working to melt the ice. It’s taking more magic than expected, but they should be free before the deliberations at the castle end.”
“The civilians?”
“Will wake with no idea what happened. That sleeping draught you brewed was a potent one.”
The Minotaur grunted. “Had to take something with me, when I left the Stampede Grounds. Anything else to report, Shadow?”
“Nothing at the moment, Sir. We’re still on the lookout for the signal.”
“And you made sure the client knew?”
“It was a simple matter to slip in as an aide, with all the messengers going in and out. The rest of the party from New Unity won’t know, until it’s too late.”
The Minotaur smirked. “Excellent. You’re free to go, Shadow. Go feed on the relief from the twins. That should prove a nice snack for you, until we can muster up some proper food.”
Vital’s muscles tensed as he heard the buzz of insect wings. He cursed internally, even as he heard the drone drawing closer.
“Something the matter, Shadow?”
“Our prisoner is awake,” Shadow replied, “and very angry.”
“Is that so?” The Minotaur clopped his way over to the point where Vital’s muzzle nearly touched his hooves. “You might as well drop the act.”
Vital Spark glared as he opened his eyes fully and drew himself up. The clink of metal fetters filled the air as he struggled to stand, only to feel the unsteadiness as the chain binding the front and rear fetters forced his hooves closer together than the rest of his body, making balance far more difficult. “You hobbled me,” he noted as his legs wobbled.
“We can’t exactly risk another display, like the one you put on before,” the bull noted.
“Am I at least going to be allowed the courtesy of knowing the name of my captor?”
The Minotaur folded his arms as he met Vital’s glare of annoyance. “Since you heard the others, I suppose it’s only fair. You may call me Herne. As you can see, we have you effectively bound. As an extra courtesy, I would advise you not to attempt to perform any sort of magic, while you’re our guest. We have a dampener on your horn, and it’s a very good one.”
Vital Spark took in the skylights, the towering bookshelves, the many glass display cases as he looked around. The familiar tapestry of an Earth Pony surrounded by three Minotaurs made it only too clear where he now lay. “We’re inside the Historical Society, aren’t we?”
Herne shrugged. “It was as good a place as any. Nobody really comes here. Shame, really.” He shook his head. “Forget the lessons of your past, and you’re going to be in a lot of trouble.”
Vital allowed himself a wry smile. “Part of me wonders if that’s why Hammer Strike keeps popping up in history.”
“Perhaps. There’s a reason why he earned the title Unconquered from my people, after all. It’s no easy feat. But that is neither here nor there.”
Vital Spark continued to look over the room.
“You won’t find your reagents anywhere nearby,” Herne noted idly. A wry smile pulled at his lips.
“You do realize just how royally screwed you are right now, right?”
Herne shrugged. “There’s a reason we didn’t want to hurt you. We just deliver the package and take our payment. If your masters have a problem with it, they can take it up with the ones who paid us.”
“And you honestly think that’s going to work?” Vital Spark chuckled and shook his head. “You really don’t know my friends, do you?” A dull sparkle shone beneath his hooves as he shifted them gently.
Shadow hissed and lunged at the Pony, only for Herne to snatch him out of the air mid-flight. “Let me go!” he cried. “He’s planning something. He’s radiating smugness.”
“And there is nothing he can do that we can’t stop in time. You already hit him hard enough the first time. Are you trying to damage him?” Herne countered brusquely.
“Better him than us,” Shadow objected as his horn began to glow a sickly green.
Herne’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “Try it, Shadow. See what happens.” His voice was terribly soft, but that was what made it so dangerous. “I warned you to let it go.”
“Let me knock him out, then,” Mirage demanded. “He won’t be so tough with his wardings gone. It’ll be foal’s play to put him into a trance.”
Herne looked back and forth between the now prone Changeling and the Unicorn sorceress. Finally, he snorted to vent his frustration. “Fine. Do it quickly, but nothing more, Mirage.”
“Please. It’ll be a piece of cake.” She tossed her mane to flick elegantly behind her ears, as elegantly as blood-caked can look, anyways, before sauntering up to the prone Pony. “Now then, you’re going to be such a good boy for me, aren’t you, Mister Spark?” she asked sweetly, even as her horn ignited and her eyes began to shift colors yet again.
Vital Spark raised a hoof, almost as though to voice a protest as a sudden look of fear crossed over his eyes. Shadow squirmed violently, but Herne just squeezed the Changeling’s throat tighter.
“There’s a good boy,” she said as she drew closer and her horn sparked to touch the ring at the base of Vital’s horn. The Unicorn’s head began to sway as he blinked blearily. He reached up weakly, as if to push her away, but the hobble kept him for doing so properly. “Oh, that’s so precious,” she cooed as she leaned closer to him. He raised his own head up next to hers, as if to nuzzle against her cheek, and she smiled triumphantly.
“Nah. I save precious for my fiancé.”
And the smile shattered with her ribs as four hooves bucked in unison, smashing into her barrel and sending her flying backwards. Four pale yellow crystal horseshoes followed after her in a smaller arc. Vital Spark quickly shoved his head against his foreleg and charged the magic into his horn, even as the ring fizzled and sparked in its effort to suppress him. A second later, four detonations sounded as a veritable tidal wave of light flared as bright as the sun, if not brighter. The lux crystals he’d summoned had done their job. A far smaller crackling sounded as the gem on the dampening ring broke apart and the ring itself clattered neatly to the floor.
“Thank you, thaumaturgy,” Vital breathed as he blasted his restraints, freezing them, until they creaked and finally shattered under the force of his strain. The second set were swift to follow, and he was back on his hooves.
An angry bellow spoke louder than words that Vital Spark needed to make his exit, but without any weapons, his chances of escape were close to zilch. The overload to his compound receptors would hopefully be enough to keep Shadow stunned for a time, but Mirage and Herne were another story. Vital dashed through the display cases, looking nervously at each one. The lowing sounded again, and this time, Vital could hear the heavy footfalls of a bull on the rampage.
“Come on, come on, where are you?” Vital muttered. And then he saw it. The staff was as beautiful as he remembered it, but his newfound desperation added a whole new sense of awe as he galloped at full tilt. He didn’t have time to worry about security charms, so he muttered a hasty, “Sorry,” under his breath, before rearing up and smashing down on the case. The glass cascaded in tiny bead-like shards as a great wailing cry filled the air. Vital Spark didn’t have time to worry what that could mean. He quickly seized the staff in his magic and levitated it towards him. The runic figures carved in intermittent circles down the length of the staff pulsed briefly, while images of various creatures became more prominent. Their eyes glowed with an inner light that shone white against Vital’s icy blue. The crystal pulsed gently as Vital Spark turned to meet the charge.
“Toro, toro!” he shouted as Herne bore down on him with berserk eyes and a massive war hammer. Vital Spark set his face in a grim line as he levitated the staff in front of him. “Come at me.” Then he seized the staff in his hooves. The crystal vibrated, the staff’s mouths opened, and a triumphant chord sang through the air in a manner that sounded like a chorus of voices accompanied by an overriding chime. Vital had just enough time to say, “What the–?” and then everything was consumed in a flash of brown, green, and purple as the crystal shattered.
“What the hell was that?” Grif panted. They had just returned to the house after a successful vote, and he was enjoying a drink, when something … popped in his senses. Something powerful had just happened, and the sensation caused him to stagger momentarily, causing his drink to spill on the floor.
Pensword froze as his eyes glazed over. He shook his head and blinked rapidly, trying to clear his head, while Lunar Fang ran a hoof down his mane.
“It’s not that bad. We can work with or around Spitfire. Blueblood would be a brute, forcing everything.”
“It's not that, dear,” Pensword answered. He shuddered. “Something … happened,” he said helplessly. “I don’t know what.”
Hammer Strike had a hoof to his chest, a confused expression on his face as his eyes shifted around, deep in thought. After a moment, he looked up to the group, giving a brief glance over every individual present, before stopping on the Gryphon. “Grif, where is Vital?”
“He’s not back yet,” Grif said with a shrug. “The maid said she hadn’t seen him yet, but expected him soon.”
Not needing to be told twice, Grif took wing and flew right through one of the windows. Glass sprayed onto the yard outside as he soared to the skies, charging ahead as fast as his wings would carry him.
“Mom, Moonburn, can you find Vital?” Pensword waited a moment, then frowned and looked to Lunar Fang. “Get the armor and weapons. Now. You’ll know where to find me,” he said in a tone that brooked no argument. He left, still wearing his dress uniform and ceremonial sword as he took wing to follow Grif’s trail.
Grif was already approaching the building the sensation originated from. Fear clutched his heart as he saw the condition of the structure. Debris littered the grounds, and the windows for several blocks had been shattered. The wall and a significant part of the floor in the structure had been blown outwards by some kind of explosive force. A minotaur lay sprawled on the cobblestones outside, and an undisguised Changeling lay not far off. A female Unicorn lay against the building’s far wall. The impression behind her back indicated she had hit the stone rather hard. There were several scorch marks of magical origin around the scene, and as Grif landed, he found the remnants of a magical circle burned into the fragments of floor that remained.
He checked the three figures for a pulse, then nodded grimly as he felt the steady thrum of life flowing through each. Determining they’d be out for a while, he unsheathed a dagger and headed further in. He found nothing but broken ice shards and the tattered frozen remains of cloth from a saddlebag in the next room. Swearing under his breath, he returned to the scene of the explosion.
Pensword stood in abject horror as he looked at the remains of the miniature museum. “Whatever they did, I want destruction of history on their rap sheet,” he said as he turned to stare a trembling guard in the eye. “And get a detachment up here for processing on the double.” The guard didn’t move. “Move, soldier!” Pensword barked. That seemed to startle the stallion into action. He raced down the hall in a bolt that was perhaps the fastest he would ever move in his life. The trio Grif had left were now safely laid in a corner and tied up. A pair of Unicorn doctors were already casting a spell to heal the mare’s broken ribs.
It didn’t take long for the detachment to arrive, and Grif was swift to address them as he stared them all down with the implacable gaze of a predator whose ire had been roused. “These three are coming with us,” he said bluntly. “As far as you all are aware, they were dead on arrival. Got it?”
“Rule one, section two, paragraph six. Any criminals found or seen forcefully abducting those who work with a noble house will face retribution from said house. I saw them with the Blueblood clone. I … I could’ve sworn everything was fine, but….” the guard winced. “My head.” He rubbed at it as he groaned.
“Happens when you’re recovering from a mental spell. Get inquisitors sent to every barracks in Canterlot. Have them search everything from top to bottom. Tell them to do it on Hammer Strike’s authority with Celestia’s approval. We need evidence. And if they stop, before they find the source, so help me….” Grif growled.
“We get the picture, Sir.” The guard gulped heavily. “The attack was mounted against a servant of House Strike. Y-you have full jurisdiction here.”
“Then why are you still here?”
The guards couldn’t run fast enough. Grif was swift to grab the slowest of the detachment and shoved a large pouch of bits into his grip. “Take this and distribute it among your detachment equally. Tell them I want you and them to keep the details of this incident out of other nobles’ hooves for at least the next day or two.”
The guard gulped. “A-and if we can’t?”
“Then once this is over, we’re going to have a nice, long chat.”
The guard trembled as his face paled even further than the charm would allow. “There are witnesses, Sir. We can cordon off the area, try to hold up the Ponies, but word is going to spread. You’ll need a cover story for certain, or we may have a full riot.”
“We’ll have one,” Grif said curtly. “You know what you need to do.” He turned to walk back to the corner of the room that was still intact, where Pensword was busy examining the remains. “Now get out of my sight.”
Pensword nodded his acknowledgement as Grif strode up behind him. He looked up briefly to watch the familiar bird-like motions that clearly spoke of the Gryphon’s mounting rage. His pupils would dilate and shrink telescopically every few seconds as he looked back to the prisoners and the healers tending them.
“I can say one thing for certain, Grif,” Pensword said grimly. “Vital isn’t dead. I would have felt it, if he were.” He ruffled his feathers, then sputtered. “But something is definitely different about this place. The magic here, it feels … off, somehow. Familiar, but different. And the floor smells like rain and fresh soil. This isn’t the kind of scent you’d find in a museum, at least not this one.”
“Do me a favor, Pensword. Go find Twilight. See if she can get us any information on the spell formula in those remnants or any of the magical traces,” he said, pointing to the edge of the magic circle that was still intact. “I’m going to go get our new ‘friends’ settled in. Once they’re nice and comfortable, we can discuss our next step.”
“The next step is to get Me-Me up into Canterlot,” Pensword insisted. “We have a Changeling here. I want her to get into that mind,” he said in an eerily calm tone. “Feed them as well, if you must.” He bore his fangs in an unsettling grin. “For tomorrow, we learn everything.”
Grif left Pensword to handle the details. With surprising strength, he grabbed the Minotaur by his bonds in one talon and the Unicorn and Changeloing in the other, then carried them off towards the house, leaving two flabbergasted and exceptionally pale medics behind.
Pensword flew down to where one of the guards was busy cordoning off a road leading towards the building. “I want a complete magical map of this entire scene, down to the smallest shard of glass. Once that’s finished, you are to ensure that copy is forward to Princess Twilight. As of this moment, this area of the city is to be cordoned off and sealed, until we or Princess Twilight says otherwise. Do I make myself clear?”
The guard gulped and nodded as he stepped away from the Pegasus. A darkness burned behind those eyes, and it was a terrible thing to behold.
Seconds later, a bright purple flash heralded the princess’ arrival, and Pensword turned with some surprise as he noticed Princess Luna standing next to her, carefully surveying the scene.
“Never mind, soldier. It seems the princesses are here to look into this personally. Carry on,” Pensword said.
“Make sure to keep everypony at a safe distance. And check in the houses that were affected to see if any medical attention is needed for the families inside,” Twilight ordered the medics. Then she and Luna both approached.
“Any ideas what happened here, Pensword?” Twilight asked.
“All we know is Vital Spark was here, Twilight. Grif is ‘holding’ certain suspicious individuals for questioning, once they wake up.”
Twilight frowned. “I … see. And the source of the explosion?”
“As far as we can tell, magical in nature. If our assumptions are correct,” Pensword swallowed heavily. “If they’re correct, then Vital Spark was in the middle of it.”
Twilight gasped. “Oh, Pensword–.”
“He’s alive,” Pensword cut her off sharply. “I would know if he were dead. He wouldn’t just pass on without saying goodbye.” He unfurled his wings with a taut snap. “Come. I’ll show you the blast zone. Grif wanted me to, before he left.”
Twilight moved forward, her hoof extended, as if to say something, but Luna laid a restraining hoof on her shoulder and shook her head.
“Not now, Twilight. Now is the time for action. That will be the best medicine.”
Twilight looked up at Luna with an expression torn between the desire to speak and the desire to follow the advice she’d just received.
Luna simply smiled kindly. “Come, Twilight. Trust me in this. Let us help our friends by figuring out what happened. There will be time for talking later.”
Twilight finally nodded her acquiescence and the two took wing behind the battle-hardened Pegasus. He landed them on what was left of the floor and motioned to where the circle’s edge had been burned into the floor.
“You can see the source there,” he said in a tight voice. “The air here feels different than most other places. It’s familiar to me, but I can’t identify it.”
“First things first. Let’s get a proper picture of this place,” Twilight said. Her horn ignited with purple light, and she raised her head as the light grew brighter. A purple ring of light surrounded her body as she rose up on her hind hooves and flared out her wings. The energy expanded to cover the whole block and, piece by piece, little projections of magic flew back to assemble into a fully restored room. Before their eyes, pedestals reformed and the ghosts of glass cases reversed their entropy to house the projections of the artifacts they once held. Tapestries fluttered and bookshelves reshelved themselves. When all was said and done, Twilight lowered herself to all fours, her horn still glowing to maintain the projection.
She strode along the floor, taking flight to avoid falling through the recreation as she stepped over the edge. “Hmm … that’s odd,” she murmured as she looked over the projection of a long perpendicular case. “This one’s empty.”
“What could have been here?” Luna wondered as she fluttered around it. “For your spell not to recreate the object means it wasn’t in the radius of your spell to begin with. That means it was either taken to be cleaned, is on loan somewhere else, or someone carried it away before the explosion.”
Pensword shook his head. “The cleaning is all done here. Lunar Fang and I stumbled across the caretakers once, when we came here looking for witnesses.” He looked at the case intently. “I saw what goes in here then. It was an old staff, covered in runes and carvings of faces, with a large crystal on its top. The caretakers said it belonged to Star Swirl once, but there was no real evidence to prove it.”
Luna sniffed the air. “There is a peculiar odor in this space,” she noted.
“Yes. I thought the same. We wondered if it might help to identify the magic that was used.”
“It is … feasible,” Luna murmured. “You said this staff belonged to Star Swirl?”
“Supposedly,” Pensword said. “If Vital was without his focus, he might have tried to use it, instead.”
“Possibly,” Luna mused quietly as she peered over the case once more. Her gaze had become distant.
“Don’t worry, Pensword. We’ll find out the cause of it,” Twilight promised. “I am the element of magic, after all.”
Pensword nodded. “I have every confidence in you, Princess. Please; don’t let us down.” He took one last look at Luna, then flew back towards the house. It was time to update Hammer Strike. And besides that, he had a few words for their new guests.
Grif had already sent the prisoners off by the hand of some Gryphons to be prepared. The remainder of their wounds would be treated, and then they’d be set on the rack for the night to simmer. “If I question them now, I’ll probably kill them,” Grif told Hammer Strike. His talons twitched with rage.
“I would as well,” Hammer Strike sighed heavily. “I need to figure out the full story, so ensure you take full lead of them,” he replied as his eyes scanned over everything.
“As far as the guards are concerned, they’re as good as dead. It’ll be just us and them. I’m going to write to Me-Me to see if anything can be done with the Changeling. As for the other two, well, I hope you don’t mind sharing the Minotaur. I’ll take the Unicorn.”
“Grif, this will be taking my full attention. Thaumic energy doesn’t just vanish like that,” Hammer Strike explained. “They are all yours, and you’re clear to use anything.”
“I live to serve.” Grif let loose a dark smile that he hadn’t used since the Third Gryphon War.
“That’s what I want to hear.” Hammer Strike turned his attention back to the environment. After a moment, he reached into his coat and did the one thing he had never done in public before. He pulled out the untranslated book of Thaumaturgy, the pages of the book opening on their own as they flipped through to what he was looking for.
Pensword’s anger was burning. He paced in his quarters, waiting for the new day. During the Third Gryphon War, as well as his time as a foal, he had grown his ability to control his anger, but he still had his limits. Grif’s anger was a raging firestorm. Pensword’s was a smoldering coal fire, burning hot with a deceptive appearance of dying. A grim smile pulled at his lips, a perfect mate to his friend’s. Tomorrow, he would attack their common foe and extract all the information he could get.
The sun shone harshly down on the dried grasslands of the savannah as a dusty Zebra trekked through the unwavering heat. The occasional puff of dirt from his hooves spoke of the drought with which the land had been stricken as he journeyed toward the great mountain in the distance. His water skin sloshed heavily against his side. A series of dark lines stretched out around his eyes, drawing any onlookers to peer deeply into the orbs. His tail flicked idly as he peered into the distance and eyed the huts that stood there. He smiled as the tiny stick figures that were the guardian totems became more distinct. He had finally reached the waypoint.
It took the better part of an hour to arrive. The village was abuzz as the traveler reached onto his back and pulled his staff out. The other Zebras were quick to give way as he strode toward the largest hut, where many a hushed whisper could be heard from within.
“Where did he come from?”
“Most likely a tour group of some kind. You know how the nobles often are in Equestria.”
“The poor thing.”
The stallion knocked gently on the wooden frame with his staff, before pulling the rough hide curtain aside to reveal the wizened face of the village chief. A great ceramic plate hung from his lower lip and a set of heavy golden earrings tapped gently against his cheeks as he looked to the newcomer.
“Ah, Mkuta. Welcome. We have been expecting you.”
Mkuta nodded his respect, then approached the lump that lay on the hut’s floor. A brilliant white muzzle was draped over by a shimmering golden mane. “And what is an outsider doing here, so far away from the comforts of his peoples’ hostels?”
“A detachment of our warriors found him not far from Mwokozi Cave.”
“What?” Mkuta whipped his head around to stare at the chief. “Did he…?”
The old Zebra shook his head. “All is as it should be. However, we did find this lying on the ground next to his body.” He nodded to a Zebra with a bladed spear, who reached down and flipped the cloth over to reveal the rest of the Unicorn’s sweat-crusted mane. A great chunk of wood was clutched tightly to his chest. “The moment we tried to take it, he latched onto it. Even in such a weak state, he refused to let go.”
“A fragment of wood is that valuable?”
“We believe it to be a result of delirium. If we give him enough time to rest, we should be able to hear his story.”
“Has the healer been called?”
“She is harvesting herbs as we speak and gathering salt from our stores to restore what the colt lost.”
Mkuta nodded, then turned to look on the young mare applying a cold compress at the base of the Unicorn’s horn. “Juadogo, you look bigger every time I see you.”
Juadogo batted her purple eyes and bowed her head. The many golden rings along her neck clinked briefly. “That would probably be because you only visit once a year, revered one.”
Mkuta frowned. “None of that now,” he chided. “We know each other far too well for you to address me so formally.”
A twinkle of mischief shone in Juadogo’s eyes. “Is this a command from the spirits?”
“Juadogo,” the chief grated warningly.
Juadogo sighed. “Sorry, Father. But I was just playing. It’s been so long since I was able to tease Mkuta. I thought he might miss it.” She smirked impishly.
The chief groaned. “If only your mother were still here.”
A low moan cut through the banter as all eyes fell on the Unicorn. He blinked blearily, then eyed the various Zebras slowly. “Where … am I?” he asked.
The chief looked at Mkuta helplessly and Mkuta sighed. “It seems the spirits may have had another purpose in my arriving so late.” He turned to look at the Unicorn. “You are safe,” he said in perfect Equish. “You were found unconscious, deep in the savannah. These people saved your life.” He motioned to the chief, his daughter, and the guards. “Tell me, do you remember what happened? What is your name?”
The Unicorn coughed weakly and croaked through his dry throat. A small bowl of water was quickly put to his lips, and he sipped gratefully. He heaved a great sigh as he finished, his eyes glassy as his head swayed in the air. “Vital Spark,” he said with a gentle smile. And then his head flopped onto the floor as the chunk of wood rolled out in front of him.
The chief furrowed his brow in concern. “Mkuta, are you all right? Your legs are shaking.”
Mkuta didn’t answer. Instead, he stooped down to pick up the fragment, examining it carefully. His eyes widened as he finally managed to decipher a burned rune and felt the shape of two hollows scrubbing against the soles of his hooves. “By the Moonweaver,” he breathed. “Is it possible?”
Mirage Glamour woke in a small stone room with all four of her hooves tied to two wooden beams, leaving her legs spread out around her. Light poured in through a small window at the top of the wall in front of her, indicating she was likely underground. Sitting in the corner, in plain view, was a very large black Gryphon with a green crest and chest feathers. He casually threw a stiletto upwards, catching it deftly at its tip just before gravity could cause it to fall too far.
The mare quickly took in her situation and decided to make the best of what otherwise could turn out to be a rather … messy situation. She hitched her breathing to make herself appear as frightened as possible, while her pupils began to contract. “Wh-where am I? What’s going on?” She put on a hint of a shrill. “Where’s my Pitty? Pitty? Honey? Gravel Pit!”
“You know, that's very good,” Grif chuckled. “Most people might actually believe that act, but honestly–.” He was in front of her. There was no other term for it. One second, he was in the corner. The next, he was standing there, leaning in with his blue swirling eyes contracted to perfect cat-like slits. “You’ve already made the worst mistake of your very short life expectancy; so drop the act.” There was a searing pain as he ran the point of his talon across the line of her jaw to the base of her ear, carving an angry red trench that welled with blood.
Mirage let loose a terrified scream. “Somebody, help me!”
“You honestly believe anybody would come help you, even if this room wasn’t sound proofed, Mirage Glamour?” Grif asked. He caught the brief flicker of surprise on her face and grinned. “Oh, I know who you are, or at least your current alias. You can’t do mercenary work in Equis without somebody knowing you. You’re a high beta level Unicorn with a penchant for illusion magic and charms, so how about we start with you telling me what happened, and then who hired you?”
“I really don’t know what you’re talking about,” she insisted.
With a casual ease, Grif lifted a talon and poked her shoulder. For a moment, that seemed like all he was doing, but soon she felt him putting weight behind it, and the claw pierced the skin, then the muscle tissue below it, sinking in up to the base with a blinding, searing pain. He made no attempt to remove it as he spoke. “Let’s try that again, shall we?”
Mirage ground her teeth together, but ultimately couldn’t hold back the scream as the talon scraped against bone. She put on a show of tears, sobbing as she lowered her head to drop her mane over her face. When she raised it again, her eyes were pulsing with color that seemed only to diffuse further through the liquid. “Why are you doing this? I’m just a magician.”
“You know, usually, I have to be careful, when I’m skinning someone to interrogate them. The brain will overload, and the pain will kill them.” His voice dropped so low, it was hardly a whisper. “But right now, this is a special case.” He smiled jovially as he pulled back a bit, before he began running the talon along the length of her foreleg, splitting the hide. “Rest assured, right now, I can do whatever I please, and you will not die.”
Mirage screamed again as the blood flowed freely, staining her fur, and Grif shuddered, half in pleasure, half in anger as he watched her suffer.
“You still going to play stupid?” Grif asked.
Mirage grit her teeth and turned away.
With almost surgical precision, Grif began separating the Pony’s hide from her leg. “Good. I’d hate to win this early in the game,” he purred.
Herne rose groggily to the sensation of cold stone and the scent of damp and mildew. A puff of fresh air would blow in occasionally from a window high above, too far out of reach, even if he were to try a running leap. There was no sign of light, so he could only assume it was night time. That meant a full half a day must have passed already. What had happened? How did that Unicorn manage to cast that high level of a spell? And … why did he remember hearing drums, before the light struck him?
He snorted in frustration as he took in the other surroundings. There would be time to worry about the how and the why later. Right now, he needed to figure out the where and plan an escape. A set of pale glowing stones pulsed gently in the walls, allowing just enough illumination to see ahead. He shifted his hooves and began to rise, when he felt the distinct weight of hefty chains tugging at his arms. He looked down calmly to notice the large throne-like chair he’d been bound to. He tested the chains’ anchors idly, keeping his senses alert as his ears swiveled around.
A shadow darted on the edge of his vision, but Herne ignored it. That is, until the shadow lunged into the circle of light to stand before him. A cursory glance told him all he needed to know. The Thestral was tall and lithe, with a long mane and a fox fur vest.
“So, you’re the one who targeted the friend of our moonkissed. How stupid.” Higher tone, richer timbre. Female. Definitely female. The Thestral hissed once, then smirked. “On the plus side, since you’re exiled, we Thestrals can do whatever we please with you, and no one will care.” She frowned. “That Pony has lost more than you could possibly imagine, and yet you still elected to cause him more pain. Tell me, Minotaur, do you know what we can do to you?”
Herne just stared the Thestral down. He knew better than to engage in what was likely to be a useless conversation. They would try to interrogate him, of course. Torture was likely on the table, among other possibilities. He would have to seek a means of escape in the meanwhile. It would be difficult, of course, but certainly not impossible.
“Not very talkative, are you?” The Thestral grinned as she reached behind her body with a wing and pulled out a long black serpent. It curled gently around her wing, as tame as a newborn puppy. “You know what this is, don’t you?” She smiled sweetly. “The black mamba. Such a curious species of snake. I hear its venom is quite potent. Just a few drops, and everything starts to shut down. Your arms, your legs, your lungs, your heart,” she said casually as she waved the wing about. The snake hissed its discomfort as it began to stir. “Of course, we haven’t actually seen the effects for ourselves. The Viper clan tells me it’s terrible to watch, but very quick.” The smirk widened into a sneer. “Of course, normally, those victims don’t have an anti-venom to help them survive.” She pulled out a bottle and laid it beside her on the floor. “We have plenty. I wonder, how painful must it be, to dance so near death, only to be pulled back at the last second?” She giggled as she fixed Herne with a wicked grin. “Let’s find out.”
“Come near me, and you will regret it,” Herne warned quietly.
“I don’t have to,” the Thestral returned. “I’ll let Slang do it for me.” She whispered at the snake’s head, then lowered it to the ground. It uncoiled and slowly undulated forward on its slick scales. The hiss of its belly against the floor echoed in the room, grating against Herne’s ears as the reptile drew ever nearer. It stuck its tongue out from time to time as it looked up at the Minotaur with dead eyes. It slithered towards his hooves, and Herene remained perfectly still as the snake drew closer and closer.
Then, with lightning speed, Herne struck, smashing his hoof down to crack heavily against the ground. A loud crunch sounded in his ears as he looked with a level expression at the Thestral. “I warned you not to come near me.”
“And I warned you I wouldn’t have to.”
Herne looked down, wide-eyed. Instead of a split head, the remains of a shed skin lay partially crushed beneath the keratin of his hoof. A sleek black band had wrapped itself around his leg, and his pupils constricted as he noticed the creature’s fangs sunk deep into the flesh of his thigh. A harsh rasp escaped the Minotaur’s throat as his mouth went dry. Already, the poison was taking effect. He couldn’t move his leg anymore. The site was numb. He snarled and lunged down to seize the filthy creature, but his arms yanked uselessly as the chains restrained him. It didn’t take long for him to lose his other leg. Then his tail went numb. The joints stopped swaying. He bellowed angrily as he strained to reach the creature with his teeth, if for nothing more than to earn some small victory. His arms slumped and hung limply at his sides, shifting as he hurled his torso back and forth, until even that wouldn’t move anymore. His eyes widened in horror as his breathing grew slower, slower, and slower still. Deep breaths became furrows, became labored gasps, became useless puffs that couldn’t even stave off the burning that had begun to build.
Finally, the mighty bull’s head laid limp against his shoulder, his eyes staring at the mare that had just laid him low. The burning became more intense. His lungs were on fire, begging for relief. And then, even that began to fade as a creeping coolness swept over his nerves like a rising tide. The world grew hazy as the field of his vision narrowed. Blackness slowly closed in, framing that mare’s wicked smirk as the last thing he would ever see, and then even that was gone. And so was he.
…
Herne gasped for breath as his body shook itself awake with a powerful tremor. His pupils dilated suddenly and his skin crawled with pinpricks as his nervous system ran a self diagnostic. He panted as he fought for control. He heard the familiar clink of the chains, felt the same restraints against his motion. He looked down at his leg, only to see no signs of the devilish creature that had struck him. The flesh was unbroken, with no sign of a scar. He narrowed his gaze as his head rose to behold an entirely different Pony. This one was a Pegasus with dark blue fur and a bright white mane that seemed almost to glow inside the cell.
“So, you’re awake.” The grin on the Pony was unsettling as he bore his fangs. “How was your nap?” The grin widened into a wicked sneer as he approached Herne.
“I take it that was a dream walker,” Herne noted calmly as he fixed the Pony with a level gaze. “And judging by your mane, you must be the famous Pensword.”
“So, you’ve done your research,” Pensword replied. “You certainly are smarter than others of your kind I’ve met. But, you see, that’s one thing that’s been bothering me. This question just keeps fluttering around in my brain. What, in all of Equis, would possess you to accept a mission to go after the personal friend of three of the most powerful and feared warriors in Equestria? Surely, you weren’t planning on getting away with it. Grif and I have a network that would have tracked you down faster than a trapdoor spider springing from her nest. Even the dullest of your species knows better than to cross us.”
Herne shrugged. “Money is money. If you want to take your anger out on someone, direct it at the nobles who hired us. All we did was make sure he would be at the drop off point unharmed.”
“How interesting,” Pensword spoke, scrawling down the Minotaur’s words in his notebook. “So, you’d be willing to give us the name or names of these nobles? Right now, I have information that’s already been given by your co-conspirators, so I don’t know if you’d really have much more to offer as leverage. Of course, if you do happen to have any new information, then we might consider being more lenient. Might.”
“If you already had the information you needed, you wouldn’t be standing here telling me you had it,” Herne said pointedly. “If you want to deal with me and my men, then do it honestly.”
“Oh, it’s honesty you want, is it?” Pensword replied as the left side of his lip twitched, exposing more of his teeth. “I’ll give you honestly, you miserable hunk of beef. You’re our prisoner. I’ll give you a minute to let that sink into your thick skull. Have you got it now? Good. We hold all the cards. You and your fellows have none. Even as we speak, what little remains of your gang is being hunted and captured by our finest special ops units.
“To say that you’re screwed doesn’t even begin to cover where you sit right now. I haven’t felt this angry since I lost my family in the war. I think we both remember where that led to. Congratulations, my friend. You just woke The Demon, and The Demon is very, very angry.”
Pensword flew dangerously close to the bull, hovering just next to his horns as he whispered into an ear. “I will make your every day a living hell. I will torture you in your waking hours. I will find you in your sleep. We will drive you to the brink of insanity, if need be, to find out what you and your lackeys did to Vital Spark.” His voice had become icy, his eyes hard as glaciers. “Then we’ll peel back whatever is left of your mind, like a we would a dead carcase, to claim the names of every noble you have ever had dealings with, before I send you personally into the afterlife to face judgement.” He thrust his hoof into the Minotaur’s pec. “Make no mistake. I know you harmed by friend, despite your protests to the contrary. You’ve done something to him, performed some kind of spell we have yet to identify. We know he’s not dead. We know he isn’t anywhere to be found in Canterlot. Not even the souls of the dead can find him.”
Pensword trailed his wing blades over the Minotaur’s cheek and down his arm gently, leaving a trickle of blood to flow out into the great bull’s fur. “So, let’s start off with the easy questions. Start answering those honestly, and I’m sure we’ll be able to come to an amenable arrangement. Well, for me, anyways.” Herne’s fingers twitched as the wound began to itch and sting. “Now let’s start from the beginning. Where was the drop off?”
The first thing Shadow became aware of when he woke was a dull ache through his body. That was quickly followed by a veritable tornado of rage, anguish, frustration, hatred, … and a terrible patience. He gasped as his survival instincts kicked in, flaring his wings and buzzing for all he was worth. Except his wings wouldn’t move. His limbs couldn’t shift. And with every shake of his head, he heard the clink of chain against chain as he rocked ever so gently back and forth. His breathing became short and ragged as he searched around the room for something, anything he might be able to use to escape. Perhaps he could transform into something else. Yes, that would work. Then he could escape. Then he could run.
The green flames rose around him. He could feel them licking against the chains, against his chitinous body. And then came the screaming as the chains flared to life, each link engraved with a blue flame that flickered in the shape of a rune. The rest jerked out of him, flowing in the darkness to a comfortable high-backed chair, where a single Earth Pony sat with crossed hind legs. His foreleg was extended to seize the energy as it coalesced over his hoof. A blue-and-gold coat flowed comfortably around his waist, and a heavy thick brown leather tome covered in alien script leaned against his hind legs as he read from some obscure page. Shadow didn’t need to wonder who this Pony was before him. All he needed to wonder was how long it would be before he died. The rocking changed to shaking as the jingle of chains clinked jarringly against the walls, reverberating over and over in their ears.
“Please, keep going. I can always find a use for this extra energy,” Hammer Strike commented idly as he looked up from his book.
Shadow rasped as he struggled to get his breathing under control. The depth of the emotional barrage was overwhelming. His eyes began to roll in the back of his head, even as he struggled to remain conscious. Conscious, his captor might deem him of use, give him a chance to escape. Unconscious, he would surely die.
“Now, we can go about this in a multitude of ways. Right now, I want to know what happened yesterday. What happened to Vital Spark?”
“H-happened?” Shadow furrowed his brow. “How the buck should I know? He’s the one who blew us all up.”
“Perhaps, but that’s not all I want to know.” He pocketed a crystal in his hoof, before letting it ignite suddenly. “I want to know everything about what was going on. Who hired you, and what reason did they give?”
Shadow shrugged. Well, he tried to. It was rather hard being trapped in a literal cocoon of chains. “No idea. I just do the stealth work for the party. You really think they’d trust a Changeling with that kind of information?”
A pressure suddenly appeared against his throat. “That’s not the answer I want to hear. I want the answers straight to the point. Do not be coy with me.”
“You’d better ask Herne, then,” Shadow said bitterly. “My loyalty’s to my survival first. If I knew, I’d have offered you a deal the minute I saw you. No Changeling is his right mind would actually deny you, if it meant they might live.”
“And yet you worked alongside your companions against me,” Hammer Strike frowned. After a moment, he waved his hoof, followed by another him stepping out of the shadows in the room. “Do you really think I believe they would tell you nothing of what you were doing?”
“No. Herne and the others were banking on you being willing to let us go, since we’re just mercenaries. You employ one of the best. You know how it works. You want the key info, talk to him.”
“I’m positive my friend has already dealt with him accordingly,” Hammer Strike commented as he looked back to his book, allowing the second one to take lead. “If you aren’t able to talk about those bits of info, tell me about the events that led to this outcome.”
“I assume you’ll torture me or worse, if I don’t?”
“There have been methods I am curious about.” Hammer Strike gave a faint chuckle.
“And will you let me go?”
“I’m sure you know the answer to that.”
“So, suffer terribly or make it quick, with you getting what you want either way.”
“Correct. So start talking.”
Shadow sighed. “The job was supposed to be an easy one. Grab the target, pass it off to the clients, get paid, and get out. We started by following your activities, your habits, that sort of thing. A few plants was all it took. Tourists have been flocking to Ponyville ever since Twilight became a princess.
“Once we knew how you thought, it was easy to plan the abduction. We knew it would have to be when you three were all occupied, and the bill was the optimal moment. Our employer or employers agreed. I dropped off a message to our contact in your meeting to alert them the deed had been done.
“As for the how, we started by taking stock of the materials he had. It would be a simple matter to make facsimiles of most of his gear, but that strange weapon, the one with the lever, was … unusual. Our contact gave us the intelligence that it was a form of propulsion-based weaponry. We needed to neutralize it, to prevent casualties, or at least minimize them. We hired a mare to help us with getting ahold of one of the packets of paper to analyze for the sake of making an effective, albeit harmless copy. It … didn’t turn out well. How did you manage to trap it so efficiently, anyways? We didn’t detect even a wisp of magic on it.”
“Because I studied every form of trap detection,” Hammer Strike replied, rolling his eyes. “Continue.”
Shadow deadpanned, then sighed as Hammer Strike leveled him with the dreaded eyebrow of doom. “All right, all right. Don’t break out the torture tools just yet. From there, we had a spy we planted in your townhouse replace all of Vital Spark’s weapons with clever copies, including a boobytrapped staff to restrain him, should the need arise. We left the packets and their weapon alone. After what happened to Miss Mill, we weren’t about to take any chances.”
“Where did you put the originals?”
“Back at the camp, I would assume, if they haven’t already been taken and picked over by the rest of the band. Then we had Mirage go after him to try to charm him into following her. Like I said, the goal was capture, not torture. She charmed the rest of the guards to ensure we wouldn’t be interfered with. From there, it was just a matter of running the gambit. And we did catch him, with minimal losses. Then he woke up at the drop point, and all Tartarus broke loose. He used some sort of artifact to blind us, then broke his bonds. I can’t tell you what happened after that. My senses were too overloaded by the flash, and then a second brighter one outshone the first. The next thing I knew, I was here, facing you and your other self. What are you, twins or something?”
“Not really. The real me just determined that you’re not worth him stopping his study on finding Vital.”
“The … real you?”
A third Hammer Strike pulled itself from the shadows. “Torture goes easier when you have multiple individuals working on it. So, you have nothing left to tell me freely?”
“Can’t exactly tell, if you don’t ask.”
“I said I wanted everything you knew. Every little detail stuck within that head of yours.”
“You are aware of how much concentration I have to put into my mental capacities just to function properly, correct? To give you every little detail is impossible.”
“You’d be surprised what someone can remember, when they become desperate,” the third commented as he studied the thaumic nature of the Changeling.
“I can only give so much. So, you’re going to torture me, after all, then?”
“More like … test some things,” he commented as his eyes flared briefly, and he noted a thin thread coming off the Changeling’s head via his thaumic vision.
“Why does that not reassure me?”
“We’ll just see how it goes,” the doppelganger said calmly as he took hold of the aspect. It took a moment before Hammer Strike realized just what he was dealing with. He detected hints of cognito, among various other minor pieces. It took him a few moments of analysis, but suddenly, his eyes widened as he understood. This was the tattered remains of a hivemind link. This, this would be … interesting. The first test was the simplest and most direct. He preferred working that way. It made things so much easier in the long run. He simply imposed his own will over the link.
He watched and felt as the thread snapped taut, and the Changeling suddenly jerked to a halt, tensing rigidly as it struggled to move its mouth, its tongue, its jaw, anything. Muscles tensed and pushed in its neck near to bursting as its eyes rolled from the strain of trying to move.
“Now that’s an interesting response,” Hammer Strike commented as he tried different methods of the same force. He twisted and yanked the string in various directions, testing how it influenced the insectoid’s mouth and other body parts. When he felt confident enough, he seized on the string again, forcing the Changeling’s mouth open. Slowly, excruciatingly, he finally got the Changeling to utter a series of garbled chitters, hisses, and vocal ululations. It took about a half hour or so, but finally, he managed to get a cohesive message out of the Changeling.
“Chrysalis is a daft cunt.” For some reason, it came out with a heavy Irish accent.
“Close enough,” Hammer Strike shrugged. Once he got a handle on that, he ensured a heavy presence of his will remained on the Changeling, forcing his control over it. After a few minutes of working the thaumic nature of the thread just right, he stepped back, and both the copies vanished as the real Hammer Strike put his book away. “Now let’s see how you fared. Tell me your name.”
Shadow jerked in place. He panted heavily as his eyes flashed and his tongue shot out. It was difficult to tell whether these were the throes of agony or ecstasy. The Changeling’s voice had a curious echo to it as it answered. “I am Szzztinger,” he buzzed. “What is your command, my queen?”
“What other orders do you follow?”
“Other orders? I … do not understand.”
“Do you follow any other orders other than my own?”
The Changeling’s head jerked and twitched from the influx of energy and the sudden connection to what at least accounted for a facsimile of a hive mind. “I s-s-serve the h-hive. Your will is the h-hive’szzzz will.”
“Good. Did you withhold any information in your explanation?”
“There izzzzz a safehouse, where otherzzzzz may be hiding.” The image of a great waterfall snapped back along the connection to Hammer Strike’s mind. The image zoomed in along the body of water, then down the river that sprang from it to a shore several leagues downstream. From there, it was a simple jog through a patch of poison joke to the boulder that marked the cave’s entrance.
Hammer Strike smirked as he let out a dark chuckle. “Good. Now then, I believe I have some tasks you can do for me….”
“If your theory is correct, Mkuta, it bodes ill for our lands, especially given the treaty the council of chiefs signed with Equestria. The whispers of war echo through the earth. Conflict will soon erupt once again, and now a herald of disaster to our own people arrives at the same time.” The wizened chief shook his head disbelievingly.
“Kiongozi, we’ve known each other for many a year. Can I trust in your discretion?”
“Warriors may be braggarts at times, Mkuta, but we know how to keep a secret, when the need is there.”
Mkuta looked gravely at the Zebra. “The colt is no herald. The stones have been whispering to me for some time. The outer fringes of our land are beginning to dry out. The stones are thirsty, yet there is less and less to drink. The symptoms are subtle for now, but if I am correct, then our nation will be in drought within a year’s time, if not less. Something is terribly wrong.”
“And is this why you journey to the Moyo Wa Roho?”
“The spirits call me there. If I am not mistaken, all the shamans across the savannah are receiving the same summons.”
“A conclave? Mkuta, we haven’t had a conclave in centuries, not since the last great war.”
“The spirits don’t lie, Kiongzi. And if I am not mistaken, the diviners will come as well. They have their own ways of reading the signs.”
“Should the other villages be warned?”
Mkuta shook his head. “No. Not until we get to the bottom of this.”
“And the Unicorn?”
“I will stay here long enough to see him restored to health. After that, he is to come with me.”
“Just what are you planning, old friend?”
“I plan nothing. I am merely taking precautions. Besides, without our help, he’ll be dead long before he can find his own kind. It is a kindness and a duty to assist him.”
“An outsider at the conclave?”
“He will be watched. And there are certain questions that need to be answered. The least we can do is provide them to him with the aid of our best diviners.”
Kiongozi chuckled. “You seem to have an answer for everything.”
“I have the spirits to thank for that,” Mkuta returned with a gentle smile.
“Father.” Juadogo stood meekly with her head bowed as she addressed the pair. “The Unicorn is awake. We’ve done our best to assure him, but we can only do so much.”
“Of course,” Mkuta agreed. “I’ll go to him at once.”
The Unicorn was sipping gently at a shallow bowl, when the three arrived. Four armed warriors stood guard at various points around the portion of the hut where he lay, along with an older wrinkled Zebra with more white than black and a longer mane that bent back, before waving down her shoulders. She was busy pounding some herbs to mix with the water. A younger foal with the mark of what appeared to be an incomplete black rectangle broken by four white patches, one located at the center of each line, worked busily to sort through various bundles of herbs and jars of powders. Two more black lines were housed within the rectangle, divided by another white line down the center to complete the symbol along his flank.
“And how is our patient?” Mkuta asked.
“He will recover, though it was a close call. He’ll be somewhat feverish for the next few days as his body recuperates. He’ll need plenty of water and a controlled diet, until everything returns to normal,” the old mare responded.
“And why the herbs?”
“He took a rather heavy blow to the back of the head. It’s to ease the pain and help speed recovery.”
Mkuta nodded as he looked to Kiongozi. The old Zebra nodded in return, then looked sternly at his guards. “Very well. In that case, the outsider is to be our guest, at least until he recovers.”
“It would be best to prepare a bed at my quarters. That way, he’ll have access to me, should he have need of any explanations,” Mkuta said.
“My men will see to it,” Kiongozi said. “But for now, it might be best to explain things to our guest, wouldn’t you say?”
Mkuta turned to look back at the Unicorn, who had lowered the bowl in favor of confused observation. There were still dark circles under his eyes and his face clearly had a paler cast to it than the rest of his coat, but there was life there and a sense of will behind that tired gaze. “I suppose it would be best,” he agreed. Then he shifted over to Equish. “I am glad to see that you are safe now, Vital Spark. How are you feeling?”
“In pain. My whole body aches,” he complained.
“You are fortunate we found you when we did. A few more hours in that sun, and you wouldn’t have been here to complain in the first place.”
“Where … is here, anyway?” he asked. “I thought I was dreaming, until I woke up again and got that water.”
Mkuta clopped over to sit next to the Unicorn. “You are in a village called Jihadharini. In your tongue, it means Guard Post. Tell me, what is a Unicorn like you doing here in Zebrica?”
“Zebrica?” the stallion blinked for a moment. “What’s Zebrica?” he finally asked, albeit slowly.
“By the Earth Mother,” Mkuta swore.
“Mkuta!” Kiongozi chided, his face aghast.
“He just asked me what Zebrica is, Kiongozi. Every Pony in Equestria knows about our nation.” Mkuta turned his attentions back to the Unicorn again. “Tell me, Vital Spark, what do you remember, before you woke up here?”
Vital Spark furrowed his brow in concentration. “I … remember some sort of a cave. I … think I woke up there. I knew I couldn’t stay forever, so I left to look for help, find someone who could tell me what was going on. The sun was so hot, but I thought I could maybe chance it. I … don’t really know what I would’ve done after, since I don't remember much, but … it felt right to leave.”
“You were found holding something, a chunk of wood. It appears to have once been a part of something greater. Can you tell me anything about that?”
“Other than the fact that I woke up with it, not much. I thought it was important, so I held onto it.”
“And that’s all you remember?”
“Pretty much. The stallion shrugged. “I think I’m supposed to be upset, but I feel too tired to be. Is that normal?”
Mkuta smiled sadly. “Rest for now. You’ll be staying with me, for the time being. We can resume this discussion another time.”
Vital Spark let out a tired sigh as his eyelids began to droop again. “If you say so.”
As the Unicorn lowered himself to the floor again, Mkuta turned to face his friend once more. “We need to talk.”
Pensword looked up from his clipboard as he eyed the Minotaur. An extra set of chains had been tied around his torso to keep him rooted against the chair. The bull’s eyes were bloodshot and baggy from lack of sleep. His mane was disheveled, and his head lolled back and forth ever so slowly as he looked at the Pony with a glazed expression.
“Now, Herne, from what we can gather out of your file, you’ve had a rather nice career here. You came to this nation just a little over two years ago, long enough to gain a loyal band, long enough to be competent, but I must say, either your skull–.” He smacked the minotaur's’ head with a swagger stick, adding a new cut to the series of lashes that criss-crossed on the sides of the bull’s head. “–Is so thick that other bands’ warnings never touched your tiny brain or you got so full of your success that you thought you could handle us.” He let out a furious hiss as his pupils narrowed to slits.
“Because no sane merc would have ever gone after Vital. You’re lucky that Clover isn’t here. She’d have broken you faster than I can snap a twig. You would have been dancing her tune in seconds.” He looked at the Minotaur’s tired, haunted eyes. “So, let’s begin again. From the top. What happened in that room? We know you picked the wing for a reason. And thanks to a pair of old friends’ cross referencing, we discovered a very old, very mystical Zebrican artifact is missing. Tell me what happened, and I might let you sleep.”
Herne huffed and snorted as his head began to droop towards his chest. A sharp smack to the other side of his face snapped him back to wakefulness again. “I don’t pay attention to Zebra magic,” he lowed, and it was almost a moan.
Pensword smirked. “So there was Zebra magic at the site. Dare I even say that it was the cause of the explosion?”
Herne shrugged.
“So, the staff did cause the destruction. That’s some information, at least.” He turned toward the corner of the room, where the specters of his family awaited him. “See if you can find any leads,” he instructed them. “If it was Zebrican magic, then maybe the shaman diplomats can be of assistance.” The family nodded as one, then disappeared.
“So, Herne,” Pensword said as he turned to face the exhausted warrior with narrowed gaze, “at least tell me this. Was it a single noble or a group that hired you?” He stared grimly at the Minotaur as he drew forth his hunting knife from its sheath and ran it across a whet stone that had been set on the table. The steely hiss forced a slight tremor down the Minotaur’s frame as his fur stood on end. A series of bloody bandages had already been tied tightly around one forearm. “And let’s try not to repeat our last session, hmm? I really don’t like torture, but I’d do anything for my friends. Tell me the truth, and you don’t have to suffer. Don’t tell me the truth, and that good arm of yours is joining the first,” he said flatly.
“Y’know, you could’ve just asked nicely,” Herne coughed, then chuckled, before throwing his head back in a deep, throaty laugh. His eyes rolled unsteadily in their sockets, and his tail whipped wildly behind him. “Would’ve avoided a lot of unpleasantness that way.”
“I did, but you didn’t answer.”
“No, you just wouldn’t deal. That’s a,” he puffed as he struggled for air, “whole nother story altogether.”
“You wanted full amnesty and a lot of money. I am sorry,” Pensword’s eyes narrowed, “but one does not simply mess with house Strike and come away smelling of roses.”
“And would you say I’d be walking away smelling of roses now?” Herne countered.
“You didn’t answer my question.”
“You didn’t give me my guarantee.”
“That’s the thing. With questions like that, I feel like you’re trying to avoid problems from your employers. Now tell me, you coming out of this interrogation, like you are now. If I had been the one to pay you, what would I do here?” He didn’t wait for an answer, “I’d think you blabbed. And while I may end up going into hiding afterwards to avoid retribution, I’d have you eliminated in a way to show I had at least some control. So, you see, we have a problem here. You’re dead, if you walk out those doors. However, if you stay here, I can absolutely guarantee you won’t be killed by some faceless assassin.”
“I’d rather take my chances.”
“And I’m not letting you go or stopping the pain, until I get to know what I want. Or do you want to be hoofed over to the Silent Death? Or perhaps Celestia’s Ghost?”
“I’ll tell them the same. Let me go, you get what you want.”
Pensword looked at the Minotaur. “Let you go. Hmm. I might be able to do that, but it’d have to be someplace of our choosing and our timing. After all, we’d hate for you to lose what you have coming to you.”
Herne mulled that over for a time, which pretty much equated to about ten minutes, with all the times Pensword had to wake him up again. “Sounds reasonable,” he finally said. “Got a blood contract handy?”
“You really do not know who you speak with. I, Pensword, Commander of the Equestrian forces of the Third Gryphon War, Moonkissed upon my birth, he who strides the path of Thestral and Pegasus, the Patient Warrior, have never signed a single blood contract in my life. My word is my bond, and one who has studied me should know that.”
“You weren’t known for torture either. Look how well that research turned out,” Herne spat.
Pensword chuckled. “That is because I didn’t need to, nor did I want to. If I had done that back then, I’d have killed my captives at the first sign of resistance. No, I fought, and you know one thing? I only let one Gryphon live from my campaign out of thousands, perhaps millions. Were it not for Grif, even that one would have died. I promised that I would kill every last Gryphon that crossed me. And I did. If I say I’ll do something, I’ll do it. Rest assured, my promises will be fulfilled.”
“Call me old fashioned,” Herne grunted. “Honorable or not, I want that assurance.”
“And I will never sign a blood contract. I can give you a contract in ink, but not blood.”
“Then we are at an impasse. A blood contract is one you cannot break. Ink and paper is worth only as much as the money it cost to buy them.”
Pensword frowned. “I will withdraw for now and pass your proposal on to Lord Hammer Strike. He will be the deciding factor.”
Herne shrugged. “Surprised he hasn’t come sooner, all things considered.”
Pensword paused at the door. “Be grateful he hasn’t.” Then he left, leaving the Minotaur to the dark and a restless sleep.
“So, let's go over it one more time,” Grif said, sitting across from the Unicorn mare. Her forelegs had been completely and expertly stripped of hide. A simple glass of salt water was held casually in the Gryphon’s hand. Every time he thought she was lying or holding back, he would dip his talons into the substance and flick it onto the exposed flesh, causing Mirage to endure terrible pain. “You say that you had Vital Spark in shackles with a magic dampening ring, you got close, and he proceeded to break your ribs. There was a flash of light, and in the ensuing chaos, he escaped and proceeded to arm himself with one of the exhibit pieces, a staff. Is that right?”
Mirage glared at him with bloody eyes. The strain from Grif’s methods had long since caused several of the vessels to burst, literally turning her gaze red as she fought to maintain her consciousness. She grit her teeth as the air danced over bare muscle and tissue, constantly reinforcing the pain. And no matter how many times she tried to pass out, she woke up almost immediately, and the process would start all over again. She’d lost count how many times the torture had occurred. “For Faust’s sake, yes! How many times do I have to tell you?”
“Lady Faust forsook you the moment you accepted this job,” Grif chuckled. “She’s not about to hear you now.” He dipped his talon and held it poised above her leg. So, there was an explosion, and then you hit something hard and woke up here?”
“Herne charged him. Vital Spark shouted something I’d never heard before, some sort of battle cry, I think. Or maybe it was the words that triggered the spell. I don’t know!” She instinctively flinched, drawing her head as far back away from the talon as possible. Unfortunately for her, her forelegs had no such capability.
“You know, I don’t enjoy torture,” Grif chuckled. “It was one of the things I only did because I had to, during the war. I personally always believed in mercy being important to life. But every once in a while, people like you come along, and mercy just flies right out the window.” He closed his talons over her horn and pulled her close. “You know who I am. You know my reputation, what I can do. But rather than taking it as a warning, you seemed to take it as a challenge. So, now you’re going to tell me who hired you.” He chortled wickedly as licks of black flickered along his talons and eyes. “Lie to me, and I promise you I will make your death last so long that the date on your tombstone will be a question mark.” His voice began to reverberate, even as he whispered in her ear with a special kind of relish. “The text below your name will read, ‘Here lies the fool who played with the wrath of Grif Bladefeather.’ Now tell me, little Pony, who paid you to do this?” His pupils narrowed to slits as the colors of his irises swirled in an angry maelstrom. “Who?” he roared.
In that moment, Grif’s face seemed to twist into the shape of a great shambling horror. Its eyes burned red as gobs of black puss dropped hissing to the floor, reeking that sickly smell of rotting flesh. Its horrid beak opened in a silent shriek, and its breath was cold as the grave, even as a series of cuts slashed over exposed tissue on her face. Mirage screamed, wrenching at her forelegs as she struggled to free herself from that terrible visage that was and yet wasn’t Grif. Grif’s grip held her fast, until she had no choice but to either respond or go utterly mad at the sight before her. “Glass House! It was Glass House!”
“Good.” Grif released her horn. “Now you stay here and think on what you did, while I go talk with the others.” As Grif spoke, the room warped around her. The monster in front of her vanished and a similar Gryphon sat casually on a stool in the corner of her cell. Her forelegs were fine. The pain was gone. She was still tied up, but everything was back to normal again. It … it had all been an illusion? Grif eyed her with that same ruthless gaze and paired it with a sneer, then turned to leave.
“Wait!” Mirage cried. “Gryphons can’t use magic. H-how did you do that?”
“Buck you. That’s how,” Grif said casually, before he swept his wings back around to rest on his sides and closed the door behind him.
“So that is the short of it. We need a blood contract that is worded in a way that makes him feel safe. He spills his knowledge, and we then give him justice. He will not move forward without a blood contract. I’ve already ended his mercenary career. It’s a little hard to wield a weapon properly when the nerves in your hands have been damaged. And the beatings I’ve given him will have him deaf within a year or two, assuming we let him live that long. I’m not exactly the best when it comes to being sneaky with words, so I was hoping one of you might be able to help me craft it.”
Hammer Strike rubbed at his jaw. “Contracts like that aren’t easy to make. Given enough time, I could perhaps come up with a near perfect contract with loopholes in it to our advantage, but, as I said, that will take me a little bit.”
“I guess we’ll keep up the nightmare assault in the meantime,” Pensword shrugged.
“Be sure to measure it well enough, Pensword. Too little sleep, and he’ll start having problems functioning mentally,” the Earth Pony warned.
“I will. Don’t worry. My apologies for being so slow on the extraction, though.”
Hammer Strike shrugged. “Stuff like this takes time. It’s all right, Pensword.”
Pensword sighed. “I feel better hearing that. Thanks.” He shook his head. “Just where on Earth is Vital Spark?” Pensword muttered. “I was able to confirm the item missing is Zebrican in nature, thanks to the caretakers. I sent my family out to check for any potential leads, just in case the explosion that took place was a type of long range teleportation. They should hopefully be reporting back soon.” He frowned. “And frankly, he’d better be, because if this is like when we got sent back to the Third Gryphon war, then it’s going to be a whole other pain in the flank to find him.”
“I haven’t been able to place a mark on where he is. I’m working on trying to find him thaumically first. Afterwards, it’s just a matter of getting to him.”
Pensword nodded curtly. “Good. Assuming we’re done here, if you all don’t mind, I’m going to find Lunar Fang, spend a little time with her, maybe ask if I should do anything to Herne for her, and I’ll leave that contract in your hooves. You’re the head here, after all, since they kidnaped one of your best friends and head of your supplies.”
“You’re his friend, too, Pensword.” Hammer Strike hummed to himself. “But yeah, I can see to working on the contract.”
“I know. It’s just that by the letter of the law, you’re in charge of all our interrogations. I know I didn’t like what my shadow did, but frankly, after what these people did to Vital, I might reconsider that policy,” Pensword growled. Then he sighed. “So, this is going to be another Flame situation, isn’t it?” he asked. “With whoever hired these mercenaries, I mean.”
“I had hoped not, but it’s beginning to look like it,” Hammer Strike agreed.
“Well, I’d like to lay claim to any military equipment they may have and to place any Thestrals they might have in their employ in clan custody. Luna’s going to want to put them on trial herself.”
“I’ll send Luna the paperwork,” Grif spoke up as he approached the pair. “I take it you two came across similar information, including house Glass’ involvement and some sort of staff?”
“The staff was Zebrican in nature, and was the cause of the explosion, not Vital,” Pensword reiterated. “And I was hoping to get the house name first, but I suppose you win again, Grif.” He furrowed his brow in concentration. “House Glass. That’s one of the newer houses, isn’t it? They only came into being in the last two hundred years or so.”
“From what I’ve heard,” Grif shrugged in acknowledgement, then looked to Hammer Strike. “Anything we’re missing?”
“You get the information on their hideout?”
“Well, just that if he could, he’d tie my wings together and drown me in the waterfall out back,” Pensword answered, “so it has to be near a waterfall.”
“It probably is somewhere rocky. Her hooves don’t show any signs of exposure to mud or foliage recently,” Grif noted.
“That’s narrowing it down a bit more,” Pensword chirped.
“I know exactly where it is,” Hammer Strike commented.
“Well then, if there’s no other info needed, I’m going to go take care of my guest.” Grif chuckled darkly.
“You’re free to do so,” Hammer Strike said.
Grif sneered. “Excellent.” Without another word, he turned around and walked off.
“And I’ll go take care of other things. Also, I need to talk to you or Grif. My crystals are getting to be about the size of oranges now, before the strain starts to show. I think we’re nearing the point for me to move on in my lessons. After we finish cleaning up this mess, of course.”
“We can look into that later, yes,” Hammer Strike agreed.
“I’ll be back in a couple of hours to check up on the situation. Send a messenger for me, if you need me sooner, okay?”
Hammer Strike nodded simply and Pensword departed.
“So, until I can learn how to speak your language, I have to stay as close to you as possible?” Vital Spark asked as he ate from the bowl of fruits that had been provided for their meal. The air was dry and musty in the shade beneath the hut’s thatched roof, but at least it was cooler than the unforgiving sun outside.
“I’m afraid so, Mkuta explained. His lower legs were folded and his eyes were closed as he held his forehooves together and breathed in meditation. “The possibility for miscommunication is too great, and while the village is willing to trust you based on my word, they aren’t so trusting as to let you wander without a proper escort.”
Vital furrowed his brow. “I … don’t know if I’ll be able to learn your language very easily.”
Mkuta shrugged. “You might not. But easy or not, you will have to learn it, if you wish to survive, at least until we can find a means to get you back in contact with others of your own kind.”
Vital Spark nodded and pushed the bowl aside. “Then I suppose we’d better get to work.”
Mkuta cocked an eyebrow as he opened his eyes to look at the Unicorn. “Just like that? No complaints? No whining?”
“Am I supposed to?”
“Apparently not.” Mkuta chuckled “Very well, then. Let us begin. This is how you say hello.”
The session lasted for the next hour, until Vital Spark let out a heavy yawn. Mkuta smiled knowingly and handed the Unicorn another vessel full of water. “Drink. The nature of your ailment is well known to us. Assuming you keep a healthy diet and remain hydrated, you should be back to your full strength in about a week or so. At least you will be strong enough to travel.”
“Travel where?”
“To the home of all shamans, the Moyo Wa Roho. In your tongue, it means Heart of the Spirit. Those who bear the gifts of divination or the power to commune with the spirits go there to receive their training at the base of the holy mountain, before spreading across our land to the villages where they are needed.”
“What makes it holy?
“It is the place from whence all life flows in our land. Without its gifts, the savannah would be little more than lifeless dirt and sand.”
“Seriously?”
“We don’t joke about that sort of thing here, Vital Spark.”
“You know, for some reason, that makes me feel relieved.” Vital furrowed his brow and tapped his chin in thought. “I wonder why.”
Mkuta chuckled. “Perhaps your answers will come in your sleep.” He motioned over to a blanket and a thresh mat made from interwoven grass fronds.
Vital Spark yawned, despite himself. “Do I have to?”
Mkuta did his best to suppress the mirth in his eyes as he smiled at the Unicorn. “Yes, you do. Rest well, Vital Spark. We’ll resume our lessons in the morning.”
Vital sighed. “Yes, Sir.”
Mkuta couldn’t help but chuckle again as he stepped out into the evening light. The colt was so very much like a foal in so many ways. The road ahead would be a challenging one, but hopefully one that the Unicorn would be able to rise to face.
The stars had just begun to emerge over the horizon as the twilight slowly faded. Off in the distance, Mkuta could just make out the shadow of the holy mountain. He closed his eyes and opened himself up to the ebb and flow of the voices beneath the earth. Once more, he felt the powerful pull, almost like a compulsion, stemming from the mountain. He took an unsteady step forward, even as he quickly cut off the connection. The spirits were growing more insistent. At this rate, he knew he didn’t have long, before they overcame him entirely. Something was most definitely afoot. He sighed and turned towards the healer’s hut. If the spirits did, indeed, overcome his body, he would need the means on hand to continue Vital Spark’s treatment as they traveled. “May the spirits preserve us,” he whispered, then clopped resolutely towards the healer’s hut.
Grif eyed Mirage as he entered the room. “I just double checked the info you gave me. It checks out,” he told her.
Mirage decided not to engage, maintaining a stalwart silence that she knew would prove futile, but pride demanded.
“I applaud your willpower, but really, it doesn’t matter. You’ve told me all I need to know, so I have no further use for you.”
“So, what’s it going to be?” she finally asked. “Bloodletting, decapitation, poison?”
“Too slow, too quick and too subtle,” Grif shrugged.
“And?”
“And what?” Grif asked tepidly.
“You clearly want to gloat. Might as well get your monologue out of the way now.”
“Is that so?”
“I’m dead, if I struggle, and I’m dead, if I don’t. So, yeah, I figure I might as well delay the inevitable, assuming you’re that sort of Gryphon.” She shrugged. “I don’t really care either way anymore.”
“No fear of death?”
“Does it matter either way?”
“It may be your last chance to have your opinion heard.”
“Will it change the outcome?”
“Not in the slightest.”
“Then there’s not much point, other than to say you’re an idiot for killing us off, instead of hiring us.”
“Why would I hire you?” Grif asked, chuckling. “Nevermind me. I could have sent a squad of fledglings to do the job and they’d have pulled it off. The spectacularity of your failure is something I might use as an example for training from now on. So, tell me, what makes you so valuable?”
“That depends. Are you referring to infiltration, enthrallment, illusion magic, or something else? My talents are varied and quite … satisfying.”
“Were those the same talents that killed the guard I assigned to tail Vital Spark?”
“That would probably have been Shadow. He’s a very good assassin.”
“Well, Mirage, you make a good argument. I must admit, I might even have considered it, except,” Grif casually turned around. She didn’t even see his arm move, just a brief flash of light and a searing pain in her throat as a foot long stiletto stabbed cleanly through with a metallic ring as it struck the stone on the other side. Mirage sputtered and gurgled as blood flowed out her lips and down her neck through the wound. “Then that happened,” Grif continued. “You attacked a friend of mine, Mirage. And no manner of clever words could have saved your life. Don’t worry, Morning Glow. I’ll make sure your remains get back to your mother in Trottingham.” Grif’s voice began to blur as the world faded around the mare. “And when you get to hell, tell the devil who sent you, will you?”
Grif eyed the body as it slumped forward and let out a last pitiful gurgle. He had a thought to retrieve the stiletto, but decided against it. It was soiled now, dirtied by dishonorable blood. He’d let someone else dispose of it later. Without bothering to close the glassy eyes, he made his way to the door and exited, looking to one of the two Gryphonesses he had guarding the room. He smiled casually. “Could one of you do me a favor and clean that up?”
“With pleasure, Sir.”
Leaving that to be handled, Grif decided to see what was going on down in the Changeling’s cell. He was curious to Hammer Strikes own method now. Without knocking, he slid into the room as silently as he could.
He was surprised to find a completely unfettered Changeling sitting quietly across the room from Hammer Strike. Hammer Strike turned for a moment to acknowledge Grif with a faint smirk. “Hey. Did you already finish up?”
“Yes. I decided to make it quick.” Grif looked between the two. “What did you do?”
“I may have learned how to fine-tune a hive mind on Changelings. Though I only tested it here with a singular subject,” Hammer Strike turned towards the Changeling. “Real name?”
“Stinger,” the Changeling replied promptly.
“You basically hacked his brain?”
“Pretty much. Stinger, orders from Grif are to be obeyed, unless conflicting with my own. Understood?”
Stinger nodded mutely. “Whatever you say.”
“So, what's your plan?” Grif asked.
“After some thought, I realized that an efficient way to deal with our threats is to leave them unsuspecting. After all, the contract was taken by the team. To get a follow-up report from the them wouldn’t set off any alarms.”
“So, our friend here is going to become a sort of sleeper agent?”
“Correct.”
“You know, during the last attack, Trixie used this spell, while fighting Chrysalis. I didn’t see it, but I got a report later on. It converted her entire body into unrestricted energy. According to Clover, it’s not that difficult of a spell. It’s just generally avoided, due to being completely fatal. What would that kind of energy do in the center of a noble’s mansion?”
“It would make a spectacular light show.” Hammer Strike started to grin. “Ah, that can work wonders.”
“Should I get a book on the spell?” Grif asked.
“Yes. I’ve still got to alter the link a little more, so I’ll be here.”
“See if we can program him to seal off any rooms containing foals. I don’t want that kind of blood on my hands,” Grif noted as he opened the door.
“Of course.”
Pensword stood holding the contract in front of the Minotaur. Its letters had that peculiar sheen that only wet blood could grant, and they seemed almost to glow with an inner light. “One blood contract, as agreed. This is your only offer, Herne. If you don’t take it, it’s very likely that you’re going to die. I wouldn’t know, since I’d be handing you over to Grif or Hammer Strike, but I think you can guess what they can do.”
Herne snorted. “New Unity?”
“We have a Minotaur there who could use some training in your culture. Treat him well, and you might be allowed a limited amount of freedom. And I do stress might.”
Herne grunted. “Fine. You got the needle?”
“I thought you might prefer something more ceremonial.” Pensword produced a dagger and held it out for Herne to use. “I’ll handle the paper. You do the rest.”
Herne held the dagger easily in one hoofed hand and dragged one of his massive fingers along its edge. A few moments later, a trickle of red flowed up over the fur. Pensword quickly laid the contract underneath and caught the drops on the parchment, before thrusting it up against Herne’s finger. The script glowed as the droplets flowed into the letters and a new name was inscribed at the bottom. When the deed was done, Pensword removed the parchment and seized the dagger.
“Right. Now it’s your turn to deliver. Let us start at the beginning. Are you working for a single noble or an alliance?”
“We were approached by a representative from a particular house, but it wouldn’t surprise me, if they were simply a pawn.” Herne shrugged. “Most major houses act through proxies that way.”
“That is the way of the Solar Court, it seems,” Pensword agreed. “So, who was your proxy, then? Did they say anything they wanted?”
“Other than your friend, they wanted nothing of value from us. All we wanted was the coin, and then to leave afterwards. As I said, no harm would have come to him under our watch. I would have made sure of it.”
“Yes, but you seem to be withholding names of your proxies and contacts. Part of the agreement was that you would give us all of the names,” Pensword replied. “And as for no harm, you had him tied up, and carried him in unconscious. And let’s not forget the heavy duty dampener you had on his horn. This wasn’t a noble kidnapping. This was an outright capture and hand over, while making sure the Pony is alive but not comfortable.”
“The hobble was to make sure he couldn’t run in the event he woke up. The bindings were only tight enough to ensure they fit snugly without causing harm. As for the dampener, you, of all people, know better than to allow a prisoner access to magic. It wouldn’t have harmed him in any way. The blow to his head was unfortunate, but proved necessary, and was the only damage he received at our hands. As for proxies and contacts, those have nothing to do with the job or the noble that contacted us.” Herne snorted angrily. “What do you take me for, a savage?”
“I know mercs. I employed one during the war, but you, yourself, told me that the noble house you were to deliver Vital to was part of something bigger. What noble house did you work with? Who was going to pay you?”
“Glass House was his name.”
Pensword looked almost … disappointed. He sighed. “Very well. I suppose we’ll move forward from there. Do you have anything else you would like to give us? Information, tidbits, warnings, that sort of thing?”
Herne shrugged. “Not really. Just that he must be a very passionate gamer. He kept talking about newbs. That … is the term young foals are using nowadays, isn’t it?”
Pensword nodded. That would be something to give to Hammer Strike. Though, for some reason, he felt like he’d heard something like that somewhere before. “Very well. Until we can make arrangements for your armed escort, you are to remain here. Once we do, you will be moved to New Unity, where you will work for the rest of your life, however long that may be.”
Herne snorted. “So, are you going to untie me now?”
Pensword nickered in frustration, but finally moved to the side of the room and pulled a lever. The chains clanked and clattered as they gradually lengthened their give. When the wheel finally locked into place again, the manacles clacked open and fell to the floor. Pensword didn’t look back to see Herne’s reaction. He didn’t trust himself to. Instead, he closed the door and locked it behind him, before looking back over the contract. “Just a while longer,” he muttered. “Just a while longer.”
Extended Holiday Ch 143: Do you Know the Way? Act 23
Vital Spark smiled gratefully to the Zebra mare as she passed another bowl of water to him. “Thank you,” he mouthed. The mare barely stifled a giggle.
“Be nice,” Mkuta chided. “He’s trying. You know how difficult it is for them to replicate our language at first.”
“But his accent is just so funny. I can’t help it!”
“You’ll help it this time. He doesn’t need negative feedback. He needs a patient teacher and support. Do I make myself clear, Juadogo?”
The mare sighed as she lowered her head. “Yes, Mkuta.”
“Um … did I miss something here?” Vital Spark asked.
“Nothing of consequence. I was merely giving the young mare some instruction. She was just noting how you seem to have a rather heavy accent right now. That should smooth over in due time, once you’ve had enough practice to be more fluent in our language.”
“I still have to learn it first,” the Unicorn said dubiously.
“It will come with time, young one.” Mkuta smiled. “Just be patient.”
“By the way, how’s your ankle doing?”
“My … ankle? I don’t believe I’m familiar with that term.” Mkuta furrowed his brow in confusion.
Vital’s eyes widened with understanding. “Oh, sorry. It’s a term that refers to the joint on your hooves. I don’t know where I picked it up, but that’s the gist of it.” He smiled sheepishly as he avoided the shaman’s gaze. “I noticed you were limping, earlier this morning, so I thought I’d ask.”
Mkuta raised a curious brow. “How perceptive of you. I didn’t expect one of your kind to notice.”
“How couldn’t I?”
“Let’s just say that there are many of your people who would rather look after themselves.”
“Well, I’m not like that.” He rose and stepped over to the stallion. “You don’t appear to be experiencing any adverse swelling, so I assume it’s not a sprain. And based on the aroma on your breath, you’ve already taken something to dull the pain,” he said clinically. His horn glowed a light blue and he lowered it to the foreleg in question. The moment the horn made contact, the energy began to wrap gently over the joint. “One good turn deserves another. Heal the harm done to my brother,” he intoned softly.
The hairs on Mkuta’s foreleg rose with the goosebumps that spread along his flesh. The force that touched him was cold. Yet even as that sensation spread upwards, he could feel a warmth building near his fetlock. A feeling not unlike the wind on the sacred mountain flowed over his body, and he sighed as the magic connected with his own. In that brief moment, he felt a deep and abiding love shining from the colt’s spirit. And with it came the passing sense of a familiar patience, the scent of wild grass and rain and life. And then it was gone, just as quickly as it had come.
Vital Spark raised his head and smiled. “Better?” he asked.
Mkuta gaped at the Unicorn.
“Um, Mkuta? Is … everything all right?”
“How … did you do that?” he finally asked.
“Do what?”
Mkuta raised his hoof and shook it a few times. He tested the range of motion. Not even so much as a twinge of pain occurred. “That was magic, but … it is different than the kind I have seen your people use before.”
“I don’t know. I just sort of … did it.” Vital Spark frowned as his horn glowed again and he raised the bowl he’d been drinking from. “I guess I just needed something to spark that part of me,” he mused. “Say, Mkuta?”
“Yes, Vital Spark?”
“What’s magic?”
Mkuta promptly flipped onto his back as a sound not unlike a goat’s bleat escaped his muzzle. Juadogo was there in a matter of moments.
“Mkuta. Mkua, what happened? Mkuta!” She shook him lightly, then finally grabbed the bowl out of Vital Spark’s magic and dumped its remaining contents on the shaman’s head.
Mkuta spluttered as his hooves waved frantically in the air. Finally, he gasped as he came back to himself. “That colt needs training, immediately,” he coughed.
Pensword sat at a table sipping his tea, while Lunar Fang nuzzled lovingly at his cheek. He stared off idly into space as his brow furrowed in deep thought, a slight downturn of his lips the only indication of his disquiet.
Hammer Strike was the first to enter, still reading from an old book he held in his hoof. A few seconds later, Grif was in his seat. Neither of the pair had seen him enter directly. He produced a bottle and cup from his bag and poured himself a drink, took a pull, then sighed. “So, what do we do?”
“I don’t know,” Pensword finally sighed. “I got totally outplayed. Herne gets to go to New Unity alive. How about you two? Did we get our little revenge? Oh, I also confirmed your lead. House Glass or Glass House was the contact, but given how small the house is, they had to have somepony pulling the strings behind them.”
“There certainly is,” Hammer Strike commented as he finally closed the book in his hooves and placed it back in his coat. “And Pensword, don’t be hard on yourself. Herne isn’t going to get far with that contract.”
“I sure hope not. The whole thing leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. I’m not that cut out for interrogation.” He turned and nuzzled Lunar Fang’s nose. “I’ll leave that to you, my little Thestral.”
Lunar Fang sighed. “I don’t think now is the time, dear,” she said. “We still have issues to solve.”
“Pensword, I am telling you, right now, I’m not going to hit you,” Grif said suddenly, staring his friend in the face. There was a long, quiet moment. And then, suddenly, Grif’s paw shot out and kicked the Thestral’s leg. “Did I lie?”
Pensword winced. “No, you didn’t,” he groaned. “But what is that supposed to teach me?”
“If you read the contract again, try to think of something that perhaps stood out a little,” Hammer Strike commented. “Trust me, I wrote it in a very particular way.”
“All I know is that he gets to live in New Unity for the rest of his days,” Pensword muttered. Then he broke off. His eyes widened. “Wait, are you saying his days might be numbered?”
“Until the end of his life, Pensword.” Hammer Strike gave a soft smile. “I didn’t say the rest of his natural life, now did I?”
“And now I can see why you are Lord Protector of Equestria,” Pensword said. “I should have seen that the first time I read it.” He shook his head. “But then again, I suppose it’s a good thing I missed it. It left Herne thinking he got off with the better deal.” He smiled for the first time in the meeting. “Very well done. I’m glad we’re on the same side. I’d hate to think what might happen, if I had to fight you, Hammer Strike. But that still leaves the matter of House Glass. I want to take care of him, but I don’t want to start off the festivities without Vital Spark.” He frowned. “He has a right to be a part of this.” Just then, the ground beneath their hooves rumbled and a nearby pane of glass cracked moments before a loud shockwave swept through the house.
“Huh. I wonder if that was too big of a crystal,” Hammer Strike muttered to himself.
“Whatever that was, I’d say House Glass just stopped being our problem,” Grif said.
Pensword looked Ashen. “Grif, Hammer Strike, House Glass had sixteen Thestral servants that were paying off debts. They were supposed to report to Princess Luna this evening with information that could have helped us track Vital Spark down, not to mention links to whoever may have orchestrated this plot in the first place. If that really was a crystal. Oh, sweet Luna, you just destroyed their souls, Hammer Strike.”
“I know, Pensword. There were also fifteen Unicorns, thirteen Pegasi, and ten Earth Pony servants as well that you’re forgetting about, not to mention the twenty foals in general, five being the heirs apparent to House Glass. All of them are currently safe from the destruction. The crystal was simply a means of empowering a spell, not a detonation,” Hammer Strike replied calmly.
Pensword breathed a sigh of relief. “That makes me feel better. Though it does also leave me wondering. Now that they’re out of the job, how can we help them pay off their debts?”
“Facing the fact all holders of their debts went up in flames, meaning they are no longer indentured servants? Rest assured, they’ll be taken care of, Pensword, just like the servants who survived the fall of Flame. But we are in a crisis at the moment, and we won’t be putting valuable time to that train of thought, until it is over.”
“I know, which is why I’m taking a prison train back to New Unity tonight with Herne. I got drawings and pictures of the staff that the historical society released to Princess Luna and Princess Twilight. While I’m down there, I’ll check with Zecora about it. She might know something about the staff.”
“I’ll be heading back, too. Something tells me we’re going to need to gear up, and all I have right now is knives,” Grif noted. “Knives and my sidearm.”
“Glad to know I’m not the only one feeling that,” Pensword said, then nodded. “What about you, Hammer Strike? What do you feel?”
“That I’ve got a lot of work ahead of me,” Hammer Strike sighed. “I’ve got an idea, but I need to look through it more, in order to make sure I’m right.”
“If you’re going away again, then we’ll need to make sure the secret stays quiet. I don’t want to imagine what the blue one would do, if she found out,” Lunar Fang noted.
“I’m sure the damage wouldn’t be too bad,” Hammer Strike commented as he pulled out his book once again.
Pensword looked to Lunar Fang, then shuddered. “I’m with you on this one, dear.” He looked back to Grif. “I think you can do the best at keeping things silent and secret, till we get back.”
“For now, we should see if the explosions caused the trains to stall. If it has, we’ll be flying tonight.”
“Thankfully, it should be resolved quickly, as there isn’t too much for debris from a detonation like that, and their house wasn’t close to the station,” Hammer Strike replied without looking up from his book.
“Then I’ll head for the station. The rest of you get everything you need. We can have the rest brought over later,” Grif noted.
“I’ll see you all when I return. Hopefully, I’ll have a plan sorted by then,” Hammer Strike sighed.
“Sounds good.” Pensword nodded decisively. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to finish those arrangements to transport Herne, ask Luna to see what we can do with the homeless servants, then get back to New Unity to talk to Zecora about the artifact and set up the first meeting of the military council. Then I’ll have to talk to Kahn and Rainbow about the future, and during all that,” he took a deep breath and let it out explosively, before resuming his narrative. “Check in on my family.” He chuckled. “It’s nice being able to look forward, rather than living in the past.” He looked about the room. “Well, I need to get moving. And Grif, do me a favor and get some chariots ready, just in case the trains can’t run, if you don’t mind.”
The cool morning air whipped at Vital Spark’s mane as he struggled to keep his vision clear enough to see what Mkuta was doing. Even worse was the fact he had to watch where he stepped, since the pair were standing in the middle of the healer’s herb garden. Naturally, Mkuta didn’t seem to show much concern over the matter, trusting to the Unicorn to be mature enough to pay attention, despite the distractions.
“Magic is a term used to define a certain kind of power that is invoked by all the creatures of the world. It manifests in many forms to match each of the species’ specific desires, needs, and theologies. Your kind has a unique kinship with this magic, because you are able to channel power from within as well as draw on outside sources. Your people call this form of energy mana,” Mkuta explained as he used his staff to draw a diagram in the dirt portraying a Unicorn. “This power is channeled through a focal point, namely your horn. It acts as an extension of your will. You may even say that by utilizing this power, you are extending a piece of your soul to accomplish it.”
The Zebra proceeded to draw another diagram into the sand, this time giving it a series of stripes and a mohawk of a mane. “We Zebras function somewhat differently than you. We do not have the ability to manifest our wills in such a manner. As such, we rely on other forces to invoke this power, namely in the form of various spirits found within nature. With enough time, meditation, and diligence, a shaman is able to learn to commune with these spirits. It is in this manner that we are able to learn hidden truths, unlock potential, and even bring miracles to pass.”
A dim blue light glowed around Mkuta’s hoof as he lowered it to the ground. A light green light flowed up from the earth to mingle with it, followed by a series of girlish giggles. Mkuta smiled and began to pull his hoof upwards. As he did so, a sprout rose out of the empty dirt and sprung into life, swelling and spreading as its leaves erupted out from a rapidly thickening trunk, until what was once an empty patch of earth had now been occupied by a stout and healthy bush.
“This is but one application of our gift. It is one that I hope to eventually teach you. However, before we can embark on such a journey, you must learn to control your own power again. It is clear, from your little display earlier, that you at least have a basic grasp over it, one that is likely the result of reflex and muscle memory. Your power is an extension of your nature. As such, it was able to heal me. However, there is a coldness there as well. And if that cold remains unchecked, it can do great harm to yourself and others. Be wary of that cold.”
“But I don’t feel cold,” Vital Spark said.
“One does not have to feel cold to make it,” Mkuta countered. “We Zebras are drawn to the spirits of the earth. Your affinity lies with the spirits of air and water. The aura of your spirit draws them to you. This elemental affinity, much like the other branches of magic, is a thing unique to every creature. Those who are aware of this nature and learn to master it, may eventually evolve beyond those limits to commune with all the spirits of nature. That is what I hope to teach you, once you learn to master control.” His face suddenly grew grim. “This will not be an easy path, Vital Spark. The road will be long. You must learn not only to master the powers you draw with your horn, but also the powers that reside within your own body. Once you have mastered that, we can begin to teach you how to commune with nature.”
“So, where do we begin?” Vital asked.
Mkuta smiled as he led the Unicorn out of the garden and over to a small watering hole near the edge of the village. He then proceeded to toss his staff, so it landed perfectly straight, standing perpendicular to the ground. He bunched his hind legs. In an instant, he flew through the air to alight atop the tiny tip with one hoof, while maintaining perfect balance. “We begin at the beginning, with morning meditation.”
“How did…?”
“Meditation,” Mkuta said simply. “Come. Fold your hind legs together on the ground by the watering hole. Then I want you to take a series of deep, controlled breaths. The point of meditation is to clear the mind and control the senses to gain greater mastery of self. Do this and you will learn, or perhaps re-learn, control.”
“If that’s what it takes, Vital Spark said. He did his best to follow the Zebra’s council, but the act proved far more difficult than the words implied. Each time he nearly managed the pose, one of his legs would snap out of place, and he’d find himself falling face-first into the mud.
Mkuta sighed and shook his head as he leaped off his staff and approached the stallion. “This is going to take a while….”
Pensword sat in the seat of the coach car, while the train clattered down the rails. He looked casually across the way at his friend and partner, who was currently busy running a whet stone over a dagger. “I know the Thestrals are being folded into Luna’s personal retinue, but what of the other servants? Did any plan on taking jobs in New Unity?”
“Pensword, one of our best friends is currently missing, after being attacked. I really, really! Could care less about this right now. They are servants in the city with the largest job market in the country. I think they’ll be fine.”
Pensword sighed. “I know. I’m worried, too, but frankly, … we can’t do anything, till we get to the station. I’m just trying to make small talk to avoid going insane.” He fluttered his wings in agitation and sighed again. “I just have a bad feeling about all of this. And the worst part is, I can hardly do a thing to help with the search that really matters. If I don’t have someone or something else to focus on, I WILL snap at either somepony or something,” he growled. Then he pulled back and groaned as he shook his head. “Sorry, Grif. I know I shouldn’t growl at you.”
“This isn’t small talk, Pensword,” Grif said. “There isn’t anything on your list that’s even in the same galactic spiral as small talk. Rainbow and Kahn, the servants from House Glass, Herne, none of this is small talk. Whatever we’re heading towards is going to be big, really big. Now isn’t the time for distraction. I’d say it’s time to plan, but I don’t even know what we’re walking into. I feel antsy, jittery, pretty much like I used to feel before a raid or the day I left the island, before meeting Hammer Strike for the first time. To be perfectly blunt about it, diverting our attention from the issue at hand feels like it will be a mistake, anyways, possibly a fatal one.”
“Right,” Pensword acknowledged. “I feel the same way. It’s like when I had to send marching orders, before I took the main force to attack Fort Triumph. It’s like I’m guarding myself, because I think an attack might come from the rear, even though I know it’s stupid to think it will. I mean, Vital Spark was the target. And we lost a good soldier to try to prevent that. I just don’t want that to happen again.” He sighed, shook his head, then set his face in a stone mask. “When this is over, I’m leaving you with Herne. I’m going to fly directly to Zecora with the file. I have a few ideas on what could have happened, but nothing concrete If Herne gives you any grief at all, you know what to do.”
“No,” Grif said flatly as his dagger let out another steely rasp. “The minotaur is your problem. I need to go home, speak to my clan, pray to my gods, get my armor suited, and arm myself. If there’s time afterwards, I’ll have errands to see to that are also important, but not more so than preparation. If you wish to ignore the drumming, till it’s at the doorstep, that's your choice. But the drumbeats are already too loud for my liking.” He raised the knife to the window, then nodded appreciatively, before sheathing it and pulling out the next dagger.
“That’s exactly why I’m antsy to get to Zecora. For me, the drums are leading me down a road that I hope won’t take me where I think it will, but it’s looking less and less likely by the minute. My armor is ready, my wing blades are sharpened, and my tomahawks are all set to go. We only need the path. Hopefully Zecora’s help, combined with their report will give us something to go on.”
“Speaking of your family, Pensword,” Grif said seriously as he laid the dagger and whetstone aside, “you do know you’re going to have to release them soon, right? They’ve already lingered too long in this world too be healthy”
“Grif, I tried it with my sister already.” he shook his head and shrugged his wings helplessly. “She refused and said, and I quote, ‘We’re your guardian spirits.’”
“Then let me be clear, Pensword. A spirit who overstays their welcome in the realm of the living can only become a wraith or a poltergeist. They may seem fine to you now. They may be entirely benevolent. But eventually, they’re going to begin feeding off your negative emotions. It will be unintentional, of course, but it does happen. And once it does, well, soon, they’ll start to change.
“Eventually, you’ll find Ponies you’ve had the slightest grudge against begin to suffer terrible misfortunes. A nasty fall down the steps, a falling chandelier, a carriage accident, or perhaps something more … permanent. You can try to stop it, but time has proven again and again that all spirits eventually follow that path, if they don’t move on. When those enemies and acquaintances begin to die mysterious deaths, you will have to decide if you’ll fault me for killing them or not, but regardless of what's between us then, when they turn, I will do it.”
“Grif, I know that. I looked into it myself. I even begged them to move on, after I found out. I’m their unfinished business, Grif. Me. Until they’re satisfied that I’ve moved on and have a proper support system, they won’t leave me. I managed to get Mom and Dad to promise they’d leave, once the baby is born. They want to be sure I have a proper family.”
Grif slammed a book at Pensword’s hooves. “Bargaining is one of the worst signs a spirit is falling, Pensword. You already have secured your line. You have a daughter. Their oath was fulfilled long ago. Guardian spirits do not come from the dead. From the earth, fire, nature, even the dark of night, yes, but never from the dead. How much longer will they need, after your next foal?” He shook his head and leaned back in his seat, folding his arms to stare his friend down. “You have five moons, Pensword. Five moons to make your peace and send them away. If you haven’t gotten them to leave by then, I’ll exorcise them myself. I’m telling you this as your friend. Let them go, so they can let you go.”
Pensword looked at Grif. Silent tears glinted in his eyes, though his voice remained unbroken. “They will move on within the hour of the birth. If they linger, I’ll send them to the Glens, myself. I told them, and they know I can do it. I’ve been ready for them to move on, since Moon River.”
“They have been around for over a thousand years,” a voice commented as Death appeared nearby. “Your connection to them has yet to diminish. It is not just them sticking around.”
Pensword froze and slowly turned to face the embodiment. “Then how do I diminish it? I want them to have rest and peace. I just don’t know how.”
“Stop bringing them along with you,” Death sighed. “You bring them to you far too often. If you wish to diminish the tether that binds them, you must stop calling them to you.”
“But I’m not calling them,” Pensword insisted. “I only asked for their help with this, because it was an emergency. Most of the time, they come to me. Are you saying I call them subconsciously? How am I supposed to stop that?”
“Stop calling for them and stop interacting with them,” Death repeated. “Ward yourself, if you have to. Whatever it takes, you must weaken that link.”
“I … I’ll do my best,” Pensword said weakly. “I just,” he sighed. “Why do I always mess things up when I try to be helpful?” He looked up again, expecting an answer, but the skeletal Pony was gone.
“I don’t know for sure, but I’m guessing by the cold chill down my spine that Death was part of that conversation,” Grif said. “I’m bringing this up with you as your friend, Pensword. For now, think about whatever you’ve been told and let it sink in. I’m going to sleep on the roof.”
“You do that, Grif,” Pensword spoke darkly. Once more, the specter of his shadow leaped to the forefront of his mind. When Grif had left and shut the catch behind him, Pensword growled, then smashed his hoof against the cushion repeatedly. “Stupid, stupid, stupid!” he berated himself. He let the tears fall. “I have to send them away.” His breathing caught in his throat as he fought against the involuntary urge to sob. “I have to let them go.”
He cried, until the tears wouldn’t come anymore. When the storm of weeping was past, he stared unseeingly at the unoccupied seat in front of him. He wouldn’t speak for the rest of the ride to New Unity.
“Good. Good,” Mkuta complimented the Unicorn in Zwahili as he levitated a series of rocks around in various patterns in the air. “You are learning.”
“I … didn’t quite get all of that, Mkuta. I got the good. And I understood the you. That last part of the sentence, though….”
“I can understand your confusion,” the Zebra said as he switched back to Equish. “The present participle is more difficult to master than the other aspects of our speech. I was saying that you are learning.”
Vital Spark chuckled. “That’s a lot better than the other option.”
“Indeed. Give yourself a little more time. In a few months, you’ll speak as fluidly as a native.”
“I think I’ll stick with understanding first.
“A wise decision,” Mkuta agreed.
“Mkuta?”
“Yes?”
“Why is everyone so on edge? I can’t seem to take a step anywhere, without a pair of eyes following me.”
“You do tend to stand out.”
“That’s not what I meant, and you know it,” Vital countered. “I can feel the warriors watching me, Mkuta. I’m not stupid. I think I’ve been here long enough to establish that I’m not a threat. So why do I still feel like I’m being treated like one?”
Mkuta shrugged. “Because we are slow to trust outsiders, and because I requested it,” he added calmly.
“You what?” The stones yielded to gravity as the Pony’s concentration was disrupted. Several of them wound up thudding against Vital’s back and head, before plopping onto the ground.
“Merely to ensure you don’t hurt yourself or go to any areas that are forbidden,” Mkuta assured him as he leapt down from his perch on his staff. “You awoke in a place that our people hold sacred. It is a mistake that the villagers would rather you not repeat.”
“Then why not just say so?”
“Because that usually fails on principle?” Mkuta suggested.
Vital winced as he rubbed a welt that was starting to rise near the base of his horn. “Wait, it does?
“More than you can possibly begin to imagine. Your Star Swirl the Bearded was one of the worst. It took a direct command from some of the oldest spirits in our nation to stop us from taking his life in retribution.”
“You would do that?”
“He defiled our sanctums in search of the secret to our magic. That stallion was, by far, one of the most arrogant of your kind we have ever met, and that arrogance will be his downfall one day, mark my words.”
“Um, consider them marked….”
Mkuta sputtered, then shook his head dismissively. “Consider this an unexpected lesson, Vital Spark. Never allow yourself to lose your humility. The humble often see what the proud can never hope to comprehend.” He tapped his hoof and his staff leaped into his grip. “Oh, and on another note, make sure to ready yourself tonight. I’ve arranged for a pack of supplies to be prepared for you to carry. We depart for the holy mountain at sunrise.”
“So soon?”
“I cannot afford to wait any longer. The pull is too strong. You have learned enough of the basics to master most of your abilities, at least enough to contain and channel them. The rest of your training will have to wait, until after we arrive at the village there. There will be others who can help translate, so you needn’t be worried, if we have to be separated for a time.”
“Why does that make me even more worried?”
“Paranoia?” Mkuta suggested.
Vital Spark stared flatly at his teacher and current mentor. “I should shut up, while I’m ahead, shouldn’t I?”
“I wouldn’t put it so crassly, but … yes. Yes, you should.”
Hammer Strike sighed to himself as he rubbed his forehead and viewed the wreckage from the explosion at the society. The majority of the debris had been cleared, while leaving as much of the scene intact as possible. It was inconvenient, but not an unworkable situation. His head ached from the aspects he was controlling, and it wasn’t going to get easier. After a few minutes, he held up a small purple aspect crystal and continued his work as he watched the area around him shift from day to night.
He was doing his best to keep himself rooted in his place in time, while searching for the event to watch what happened. After some time, he managed to find the point in which Vital had vanished, watching as he taunted Herne with the staff.
“Well now, did I forget to lock my toolbox again?” a familiar voice asked from behind. “Still, gotta respect that, boy. Never back down from a bully. Give him the old one-two.”
Hammer Strike grit his teeth as he continued to watch over the scene. It was only a matter of time, before Father Time showed up. He knew that. But the headache of having two forces of time nearby was a lot more stressful than he would have liked.
“Why don’t you let me take over, sport? Your mother wouldn’t be happy, if you burst a blood vessel,” Father Time offered.
“Don’t you dare,” Hammer Strike warned. “Every time an embodiment has interacted with me, it either doesn’t work right or ends up giving me an even worse headache.”
“Easy there, kid. Just trying to help.” Father Time chewed on his pipe as he took a step back. Meanwhile, not far off, a tall slender mare was walking around the crime scene. Her fur was a light buttery yellow, and she sported a deep red mane. A scale stood boldly on her flanks. Her eyes were covered by a white cloth. A small purple filly guided her carefully through the streets. Her mark was a broken sword. Chance ran around the area chattering excitedly about something as Mother Nature engaged in some kind of glaring contest with certain pieces of Zebrican art. “You’re not the only ones befuddled by all this,” Father Time finished.
Hammer Strike sighed as he let go of the vision for a moment to rest his head. He had a lock on the event, so it would be a simple matter to return to it again. And besides that, he could use a small break, especially when his quiet space had become so crowded. “That’s a comforting thought,” he muttered. “If all of you are confused, then I’ve got work ahead of me….”
“Confusion isn’t the same as ignorance, kiddo,” Father Time said. “We have a pretty good idea what happened, just not how they managed to do it.”
“The nature of the staff is definitely abnormal, to say the least,” Hammer Strike commented as he pulled out a charred fragment. “Whatever was on it left with Vital, so I can’t scan it at this point.” He put it away, before pulling out the aspect of time once again. “I just need to broaden my thaumic vision beyond this present moment, and I can figure it out.”
“I can tell you what was on the staff,” Father Time said. “Or rather, what wasn’t. The staff had no time. I couldn’t even see it, until after your friend vanished. It wasn't an entity to me. Nothing is a non-entity to me,” father time said, making his point. “Whoever made the staff, somehow, removed it’s connection to me, until your friend used it.”
“It was shielded from most of the embodiments. I’m certain of that fact. With what it potentially did, it wouldn’t make sense that only one of you couldn’t see it,” Hammer Strike frowned as he focused once again on the scene.
“It wasn’t shielded.” Father Time said seriously. Suddenly, his persona seemed to shift. Instead of the semi-dapper middle-aged stallion, Hammer Strike found himself standing before a very old, yet remarkably strong-looking stallion. His mane was gone, and a long, lush beard reached down to the floor. “That staff hadn’t had one second touch it since whoever enchanted it did so. It was not a minute older, when he took it in his hooves. And then he used it, and all that time came back to it. That is a lot of time. The timestream wasn’t immediately able to handle it, so it created a tear from the past. Your friend must have been taken through it by the suction, before time repaired itself.” As the rant finished, his form quivered, and then the middle-aged stallion was back.
“Great,” Hammer Strike frowned. “Then I need to locate him, so I can work on getting there.” He continued his search, watching second by second after Vital grabbed the staff. At the last moment, just before Vital vanished, Hammer Strike broadened his vision as much as he could, taking note of the aspects that made up that second, both in the staff and Vital Spark. As soon as he marked an exact copy, the aspect in his hoof shrank rapidly as he broadened his search farther and farther back in time. After a full minute, the crystal vanished with a crack as everything came crashing back together on the stallion. There was a moment of pain, followed by a blur of aspects as his vision swam.
It took him a few minutes to realize that Father Time was waving his hoof in front of his face. A few moments later, he rubbed his nose to clear the blood. As things continued to clear, he became aware of the pain in his head and how most of the embodiments around him were currently staring right at him.
“You need to be more careful,” Mother Nature said as she proceeded to check his forehead, like she would a sick child. “You might have hurt yourself. And then where would we be?”
“Continuing about your lives,” Hammer replied, before giving a shuddering sigh. “I would say I’ll be careful when I’m dead, but let’s be honest. That would be a lie.”
“Yeah, thanks for that,” Death deadpanned.
“I’ve got to make your existance entertaining somehow,” Hammer Strike replied. “It’s got to be dull, when others just accept the fact and go to whatever afterlife they deserve. At least when I fight, it’ll have some value.”
“Well, it beats that year-long chess game,” Death sighed.
“You’ve been around for ages. I’m sure a year was nothing to the guy who’s been around for thousands,” Hammer Strike replied, rolling his eyes.
“Only four or five,” Death said.
“Still proves my point,” he replied simply. “You know what, I need to get the question out of my head, before you vanish.” He turned his attention to the two new embodiments. “Could you please tell me who you two are?”
The one with the covered eyes lifted her hoof towards a wooden statue that stood in front of her to Hammer Strike’s left. “Greetings, Hammer Strike. I am Justice.” She reached out to shake a hoof.
“To your right,” the filly said.
Justice blushed slightly as she corrected herself. “I am Justice, and this is my guide, Mercy.”
“A pleasure,” Hammer Strike replied as he shook her hoof. He then directed his attention to Mercy, offering the same.
Mercy just gave the hoof in question a level stare. “Charmed,” she said in a bored tone.
He sighed, placing his hoof down. “Should have expected that,” he muttered.
“Mercy’s indifference aside,” justice said, “it is always pleasing to meet one of the few who wield great power, yet have not been touched by corruption.”
“I think I don’t fall into that category.” Hammer Strike rubbed the back of his neck. “At least in the literal sense.”
“Nopony is perfect,” Mercy said, surprising the Pony lord.
“Be prepared,” Justice told him. “I know not what you will face to find your friend, but I sense many injustices in your immediate future. Some, you will fight. Others, you will witness. But be assured, what you will do in response will be just.” She moved her head in the purple fillie’s direction. “Even if they are not always merciful.”
“I can only do the best I can.” Hammer Strike gave a sad smile. “Sometimes, things just … get the better of me.”
“I must go now. So many things to look into,” Justice said.
Hammer Strike raised his hoof to comment, before settling on, “Until next time.”
With a nod, Justice and Mercy faded out of view.
“I can only do the best I can,” he muttered to himself one last time as he exited the room and the embodiments faded behind him.
Vital Spark shook his mane for what felt like the hundredth time as another dust cloud rose out of it to scatter in the midday sunlight. A simple set of saddlebags woven from grass fronds clattered to either side of him, while a water skin sloshed against his chest. His horn ignited, and the bag raised to his parched lips as he took a few sips, before putting the stopper back to it again. He let the water sit there in his mouth, allowing the interior to rehydrate, then swallowed the rest to aid his parched throat.
“I hate to ask this, but how much farther do we have to go, before we get to the Moyo Wa Roho?” he asked. “This heat is killing me.”
Mkuta didn’t bother turning his head as he strode calmly and confidently forward, despite the sun’s unrelenting barrage. “We won’t see the village for another day. Then it will take us approximately two more days to reach it.”
“Seven days?” Vital balked.
“You sound so surprised. It takes Unicorns just as long to travel between villages and towns, without the aid of flight. The only difference, in this case, is the temperature. Our lands are much hotter than the climate in your homeland of Equestria.”
“Mkuta, can you tell me what it’s like? Equestria, I mean.”
“I have never been there in person, but I am told it is a lush place, filled with trees, plants, and bushes of all kinds. Herbs, spices, and various other rare magical ingredients are simple to forage for, if you know what you’re doing. The few Unicorns I have met before have spoken of their capital of Unity with great respect as a golden pinnacle of strength and culture with great libraries and two powerful rulers who govern the sun and moon themselves.”
“Luna and Celestia.”
“So, you remember their names. That is good.” He turned back briefly to smile at Vital Spark. “No more questions for now. There will be plenty of time to talk tonight, when we make camp. And we won’t have to worry about the sun baking us to death.”
“Oh. Right.” Vital Spark’s ears drooped. He hadn’t accounted for that possibility. “Then tonight, it is. I’ll hold you to that.”
“I know,” Mkuta finished in his native tongue.
“I shouldn’t be gone long, at least to you,” Grif said as he double checked the straps on his armor. “I’ve left plans with the council for most situations that might come back during my absence, so you should be fine until I return.”
“You’d better come back safely,” Shrial said, “or so help me….”
“I’ll be back,” Grif said, looking her in the eyes. “If I have to crack the Gates of Hell to do it, I’ll be back.” He turned back to his weapons and began stuffing several extra bandiolers of throwing knives into his pack.
“Trust him,” Gilda said simply as she pulled one of the cub’s toys aside to keep them occupied with pouncing, even as she rested her other taloned hand on her swelling side. “Besides, if worse came to worst, we could always ask Cheshire for help. Knowing her, she’d have some fancy trick up her sleeve that leaves the rest of us with headaches for a week.”
Grif opened a box and dumped out an assorted pile of bits and gemstones. He quickly sorted the bits back into the box, before sliding the gems into a bag. He didn’t know if bits would be any use, where they were heading, but gemstones had value anywhere. “Not a word to Trixie,” he warned. “Keep everything from Clover, if you can, but Trixie cannot be allowed to find out what happened.” He opened his ammo stockpile and began counting out bullets.
“She would try to blow her way through the space time continuum, wouldn’t she?” Avalon mused as she raised her beak out of one of her new grimoires.
“I don’t want to take that chance,” Grif said as he tied Vigilance and Vegence’s twin sheathes onto his back and slid the blades home, adding his katana just under his wing. Finally, he checked his quivers and his bow. “Am I missing anything?”
“A benediction, perhaps? It might help take care of certain misunderstandings with the Winds, if you have to call on them in a hurry. After all, depending on where and when you go, they may not have actually called you as their Avatar yet,” Avalon noted.
“As much as that makes sense, I fought in wars without their help before. If need be, I can do it again. But I appreciate the thought.” Grif made his way to Shrial, brought her head to his, and let their foreheads touch for a moment, before he kissed her. He repeated this process with Avalon and Gilda respectively. “I love all of you. Never forget that.”
“Hard to do, when you keep reminding us,” Avalon said with a playful, albeit worried smile. “We’ll be praying for you and your safe return.”
“That's all I can ask for.” He turned to head for the door, but as he took a step forward, he heard something scrape. He turned his head and scanned the room. He couldn’t see anything out of the ordinary, and was about to turn away again, when he caught the sound once more. This time, he caught movement. A case stood near the end of the armory, where Graf’s axe lay. Grif had not had time to return, and had left it carefully preserved in an engraved display case. The scraping noise had come from the glass. It had cracked. The crack continued to spread outwards, until the glass shattered. A loud whooshing filled the air as something heavy cut through the intervening space. Grif quickly raised his talons to block whatever happened, only to feel the sensation of thick wood settling in his palm. The axe had come to his hand with his talons resting comfortably under the head. Spirals of runic formulae Grif couldn’t even begin to recognize strobed across the handle in a soft blue light.
Grif was startled, to say the least. He had never known the axe had been enchanted. Then again, he’d never seen the old bird use it in real combat before. He’d never used the two-handed weapon in his life, yet couldn’t deny some comfort in the weapon’s feel. He slid it carefully into a metal loop in his harness. It was an uncomfortable fit, but he could modify it another time. “We’ll discuss … whatever that was later.”
It was at that point that a large ring of fire appeared in front of Grif. A scroll popped out shortly afterwards, completely unharmed, and tumbled across the floor to his feet.
“I swear, if one more strange magical thing happens,” Grif grumbled threateningly as he picked up the scroll and opened it.
‘Grif, if this note made it through unharmed, please throw it through again. ~HS’
Grif shrugged and did as he was bid.
A few seconds passed, before Hammer Strike’s head appeared through with a shudder. “That’s not a pleasant feeling,” he commented, before stepping through, allowing the portal behind him to vanish. “May or may not have figured out a few things. Long story short, I can make a portal to marked things, including Vital.”
“Well, that's convenient,” Grif said. “So what's the drawback? Because if there was none, you wouldn’t be figuring this out now.”
“It’s somewhat draining to just transfer matter across an area. Next one I make has to … kinda go through time as well,” he replied, rubbing the back of his neck.
“Well, you should head for your armory, then,” Grif said. “I was just going to finish last minute preparations.”
“Planned on it,” Hammer Strike replied casually as he cracked his neck.
Pensword looked to Lunar Fang to his left, then Fox Feather to his right. Moon River was still nomming his left ear, a bad habit that he had thought she had broken by now. Cristo and Inigo were with him, along with Day Moon, who was ahead following a game trail. He reached a familiar crossroads and sighed remorsefully. Lunar Fang nodded to his older sons, who smiled supportively at their second father.
“The boys, Fox Feather, and I can handle this, dear. I know you need to see Zecora,” Lunar Fang said.
Fox Feather nodded her agreement as she reached over with her wings to pull Moon River onto her back. Unfortunately, the young foal wasn’t having it as she grabbed tightly to Pensword’s mane and refused to let go.
“Daddy leaves so much. I stay!” she demanded. “Daddy needs me.”
Lunar Fang leveled a warning glare and took a deep breath, but stopped as Pensword held up a restraining wing. “This time, she will stay,” he said. “If I cannot trust Zecora with keeping her safe, while I counsel with her, then I’ve misjudged her.” He ruffled his wings as Moon River started to cheer. “As for you, my little troublemaker, I need you with Jackpot on the lookout to keep my saddlebags secure.”
Moon River gave a determined salute, and the expression on her face left Lunar Fang and Fox Feather both smiling as only a mother doting on their child could. “Okay, Daddy,” the foal said.
“Okay. I’ll meet you all again at either the camps or at the long house.” He kissed both his wives, then ran a wing lovingly over their noses in a gentle caress.
He waited for them to leave his sight, before he started down the path to the woods, and ultimately Zecora’s hut. The scent of herbs and spices was the first herald to his arrival, followed closely by the familiar light of a glowing fire flickering from the tree’s windows. The familiar masks and totems welcomed him, and he smiled at the positive energy from the spirits therein. True, they weren’t the kind he was used to interacting with, but he could still sense their presence. He stepped confidently up to the door and knocked, while Moon River shifted to keep a better eye out on their surroundings.
The sound of hooves clopping on the wooden floor of the dwelling grew louder as Zecora approached and opened the door. She smiled at the Pegasus. “Well, well, Pensword. It’s been a long time. What brings you to my step on this evening sublime?” Then she reached up and booped the filly’s nose. “And how do you fare, little one? Have you kept out of mischief, while you have your fun?”
Moon River giggled and grinned. “May we come in?” Pensword asked. “I have something I need to show you, and any information you can give would be greatly appreciated.”
“I deal in knowledge mundane and unique. Come in, Pensword. Tell me what you seek.” The Zebra turned and trotted back inside her house, motioning behind for Pensword to follow as she approached her cauldron.
Pensword walked in. “Moon River, can you hand daddy the file in my left saddlebag?” He smiled as the foal reached toward the wrong pocket. “The other one is left,” he chided gently. Moon River giggled mischievously as she handed the pages over. “Thank you,” Pensword replied, patting her on the head with a wing tip, before taking the file in his left wing and making his way to the table. He bit down on the file’s edge, withdrew it from his wing, then placed it on the table and flipped it open. “I need to know if you recognize or identify any of the images or characters from this file. It’s part of a vital investigation, but one I can’t share the details on.”
“There’s no need to fear being open with me. I always respect Ponies’ privacy,” Zecora noted with that wizened smile of hers. She looked down at the photograph, then frowned as she lifted it in her hooves. “Where did you find this?”
“It was in the historical society in Canterlot. I don’t know how they got ahold of it, but it appears to have been the focal point of certain events that unfolded there recently. We were hoping you might be able to tell us about it, since the design was Zebrican in nature.”
Zecora’s hooves began to tremble. “Hidden in plain sight for all this time,” she breathed. “Was the staff stolen? Was that the crime?”
Pensword eyed the walls carefully. “Can you make sure we can’t be eavesdropped? The situation is extremely delicate.”
“More than you know,” Zecora said gravely. “That staff and its power are not meant for show.” She strode around and closed the shutters, then locked them. “We are alone. You need not fear. No dark secrets will be taken from here.”
Penword took a deep breath, then nodded and began. “The staff was destroyed in some type of, well, the best way I can describe it is a self-inflicted explosion. It involves one of our mutual friends. Since the artifact was Zebrican in nature, and you’re clearly familiar with it, we need all the information we can get.”
“Then the time has come. It’s as I feared. Vital Spark has disappeared.” Her shoulders slumped, as if a great weight had fallen upon them. In that one moment, the fatigue of centuries shone in those deep jade eyes. “I had hoped–.” She shook her head. “Nevermind. This magic is of a special kind. To call a hero, it was designed. When war and destruction would end us all, one who was chosen would answer the call. The magic invoked cost a heavy price: many lives given as sacrifice to ensure the staff would last through the ages, till chosen was found, then turn back the pages.” She turned from Pensword and opened a cabinet, where she removed a blue-green stone with a carefully cut chunk of tourmaline sitting in its center. A series of ridges rose up in familiar winding patterns that swirled, like the currents of a river. She stroked it fondly, then sighed as she returned it to the cabinet and shut the doors again.
“That confirms a bad fear. Vital is in the past. That means I need to discover what era he would up in,” Pensword muttered. “That could mean days of research, unless you know of a time when a white Unicorn foal or adult showed up in the past.”
“There are many Unicorns who have come to our lands through rolling seas and shifting sands. If your friend, you wish to see, find history’s incongruity and answer the question that plagues all races: how, at the same time, one can be in two places.”
“Great….” Pensword rolled his eyes. “Thank you,” he harrumphed. “Anything else I need to know or be warned about?” he asked as Moon River leaned over and kissed him consolingly on the head.
“What is to come, I wish I could say, but that is for you to decide today.” She shook her head disconsolately. “I want to say more, with my words be free, but all I can offer is an apology.” She clopped over to the door and slowly creaked it open. “Good luck, Pensword. I wish you well. May you find what you need and save Vital as well.”
Pensword slowly nodded, while Moon River hugged him around the neck. “Find Uncle Spark?” she asked.
“Yes, we’ll find him,” Pensword promised. He looked to Zecora and nodded gratefully. The drums of war seemed to echo back in his mind. Wherever and whenever Vital went, from the way Zecora looked at him, it wouldn’t be an easy operation. This rescue would be made in blood. “You take care, Zecora. Know that next you see me, we will have Vital Spark with us.” He spoke with conviction as he exited the portal. Then he raised his head to look lovingly up at his daughter. “You take care, okay? We’ll bring back Uncle Spark.”
Moon River nodded her head as she moved to give her crossbow to her father. “Take?”
“No, you need it with you here. I’ll take mine.” Then he reached up and patted her gently between the ears as they passed through the protective field the totem poles gave off. “You want to come with me to report what we learned from Zecora?”
Moon River nodded gravely. “Yes.”
Pensword spread his wings as he felt Moon River wrap her forelegs more tightly around his neck. “Then let’s go.”
Vital Spark looked in awe as they passed through the city of tents. Zebras of all sizes, ages, and genders were busy passing back and forth between one another. Some were tossing pieces of carved wood, stones, or other such materials onto reed mats dyed with various symbols and glyphs. Others labored over pots that released green wisps of steam into the dry air to dance on the wind, before dissipating. They would stare intently at the patterns, then toss more herbs and spices into the brew as needed, before stirring and peering again. The youngest giggled and laughed gleefully as they streaked through the many makeshift paths that existed between the temporary structures.
“You should consider yourself lucky,” Mkuta’s voice suddenly broke through Vital Spark’s reverie. “This kind of gathering occurs only once in a few generations.”
“So many people,” Vital Spark marveled.
Mkuta smiled. “This is only a fraction of our full numbers. Our lands are great, and our tribes and villages spread all across the savannah.”
“And these are all the shamans and diviners?”
“The more accomplished ones, yes,” Mkuta said. “Others are likely still on their way, and those who are in training reside in the huts farther in, alongside those residents who are permanent additions to the village.”
“So, are we going to be staying in a tent, too?”
“Possibly,” Mkuta allowed. “We have to report to the village chief first. It’s proper manners, after all.”
The two eventually arrived at the heart of the village, after passing several gardens and fields overflowing with vibrant green shoots and delicate blossoms. Herbs, weeds, spices, gourds, corn, peas, melons, and great thick-trunked trees with curious yellow fruits. Some were long and fuzzy, ranging in color from a healthy green to an almost wrinkled brown. The others sprouted in bushels with upwards of twenty of the fruits bunched together at a time, jutting out in curves. Vital Spark marveled at the sights and smells as the Zebras tending the gardens went about their work tending the soil, watering the ground, and harvesting the plants that were ready.
“How is all of this possible?” Vital Spark asked.
“We are blessed by the spirits who tend the land. Water from the sacred mountain spreads throughout the continent to provide all the nourishment our crops need to survive. It is through these trees here that we harvest the water.” Mkuta approached one of the stout trunks of the gnarled fruit trees and removed a cleverly placed piece of wood. Seconds later, fresh water poured out into his empty water skin. When he’d filled the container, he replaced the stopper again. “The tree is called the baoba, and its fruit gias. They are a gift from the spirits. The water provides them life and nourishment, allowing them to grow to great heights at incredible speeds and shelter us from the sun with their boughs. And though it may be difficult to harvest at times, their fruit sustains us, granting health and stamina, among other things.”
“Incredible,” Vital Spark said as he stared up into the leafy canopy.
Mkuta smiled. “Don’t let yourself become overwhelmed just yet. We’ve only just begun.”
A series of tall totems sprouted from the earth with carved and painted masks portraying the faces of Zebras staring outward. Some glared. Others smiled. Some were in the act of laughing, while others wept. A large fire pit surrounded by a ring of sparkling white stones laid within the totems’ protection. It was only too obvious they held some spiritual significance to the people of the village. The chief’s hut sat just a few paces away, right next to the great meeting hall that was the largest structure in the village.
Each hut had been surmounted by a mask or shield of some kind, and the chief’s hut was no different. This one portrayed a series of vast roots stretching out from a green heart. Mkuta knocked respectfully at the frame and called out in his native tongue. It didn’t take long for the answer to come. Two tall, well-built Zebras in red robes barred the way with their spears as they stared down at Mkuta. Their ears were pierced with a series of slim silver bands that jingled as they struck one another, while a deep murky green war paint had been brushed over their fur in intricate designs.
Mkuta spoke with them in calm and measured tones that bespoke a ritual, though Vital Spark couldn’t tell what they were saying. Finally, the two guards seemed satisfied, and stepped aside to allow entry; however, when Vital Spark sought to pass the portal, they crossed their spears again and glared threateningly at the Pony. Mkuta turned in surprise and spoke at some length to the pair, but they were not to be swayed. They stomped their hooves stubbornly and growled something at Mkuta. Mkuta growled something in turn, then sighed as he looked back to Vital Spark.
“I’m afraid there’s been a misunderstanding. They won’t allow you to enter the chief’s presence uninvited, and regrettably, I don’t count. You’ll need to wait here, while I speak with the chief. Just keep to yourself until I get back. I shouldn’t take too long,” he promised.
Vital Spark sighed. “Guess I should’ve expected this by now.”
Mkuta smiled sympathetically. “Things will improve with time. You will see,” he promised. And then he was gone, leaving Vital Spark to stand alone in the middle of a village that he could hardly understand.
Vital Spark rolled his eyes. “Great. This is just great.”
Pensword landed at the Castle of New Unity and walked right into Hammer Strike’s armory with Moon River still clinging tightly to his neck. “I learned some things from Zecora just now,” he reported spoke as he walked deeper into the armory. The glint of leather and polished steel shone in the torchlight as he passed through the rows of weapons racks to reach his lord in the back. “I got a hint as to when Vital might be. I quote, ‘If your friend, you wish to see, find history’s incongruity and answer the question that plagues all races: how, at the same time, one can be in two places.’”
“I already pinpointed where Vital is, actually,” Hammer Strike replied as he continued collecting his equipment.
“Oh…” Pensword frowned. “I seem to be slow, no matter what happens.” He winced as his daughter wacked him on the head. “Ow.”
“Daddy not slow. Daddy Smart,” Moon River stated adamantly. “Daddy….” Her face scrunched in concentration. “Coloberated?” she asked.
“Corroborated, honey. But that was a good try,” Pensword complimented. Then he looked back to Hammer Strike’s questioning gaze. “She is insisting on staying with me, till I leave. She always seems to know when we’re about to go somewhere.”
“Kids can be quite clingy,” Hammer Strike replied. “We’ll be heading out soon enough. I’ve just got to create an anchor for this point. Then I’ll be able to send us back to as close a time as I can get to where he is. You’ve dealt with Herne already, correct?”
“That is correct. Although he has refused to leave his room, something about preparing himself for this new home. I think we’ll fully deal with him, after we get Vital back.”
“No. He will be dealt with as soon as possible,” Hammer Strike objected. “In fact, I’m put off that he’s still alive right now.”
“He’ll only stay alive for the next three hours or so. All the drink he has access to has been treated by a poison that’s undetectable. He should start feeling the effects within the next ten minutes or so. A bit on the slow side, but not nearly so much as arsenic.”
“If it takes longer than three, I’ll kill him myself,” Hammer Strike replied sternly. “I refuse to let him stay alive any longer than that. He’s already on borrowed time.”
“Why does he die?” Moon River asked. She paused. “Did he vanish Uncle Vital?”
Hammer Strike gave a soft sigh as he looked to Moon River. “Yes, he made Vital vanish, so we’re going to make him vanish.”
Moon River nodded her head sharply. “Good.”
A flicker of pride passed through Pensword at the foal’s words, and he smiled slightly, despite himself. “So, where is Vital, then? Based on what Zecora said, I’m guessing Zebrica, in the past.”
“Around the time of the Third Gryphon War, to be precise,” Hammer Strike clarified.
“Oh joy. So it is double for all but Vital,” Pensword muttered.
“And me?” Moon River asked.
Pensword chuckled. “You were in mommy’s tummy during the war.”
Moon River’s blinked a few times as she processed that information. Finally, she spoke. “That makes me oldest foal.”
Pensword chuckled. “I guess so.”
“Is there anything else you wish to discuss?” Hammer Strike questioned.
“I was hoping to meet up with you here and then meet up with Grif to disappear, hopefully in the basement to avoid certain Ponies. Who do you want with us?”
“Next to nobody else.” Hammer Strike turned back towards his equipment. “I’d prefer to keep it just the three of us.”
“Understood.” Pensword nodded. “That means no telling your mommies, okay?” Pensword told Moon River.
“Okay, Daddy. Only we know.” Moon River nodded her acceptance.
Herne’s living quarters were more like a closet. He had to hunch slightly to avoid smashing his horns against the ceiling, and a simple sleeping pad lay against a blank stone wall. A single candle was all he had to offer light in what he suspected was once a storage facility of some kind. He sighed and snorted heavily as his tail swayed back and forth. His meager meal of gruel and a bucket full of water sat off to the side, hardly touched. He was living, all right; just not living well.
Pride had always been his stumbling block, or so he’d been told growing up. A bull could only take so much, before he had to defend his honor, though. It wasn’t his fault the old cow interfered. If she’d kept her nose out of things, they never would have banished him in the first place. He snorted in frustration as he lashed out with a hoof, kicking at the floor with a mighty clop. Lineage should never have mattered in the herd. He’d earned his way to fame, earned a proper living, and now, just as he was ready building up his herd again, some idiotic Unicorn had to come into the picture with a death wish.
It was supposed to be a simple job. Snatch, deliver, get the buck out of town. With the pay involved, they all would’ve been rich. Now that Hammer Strike had gotten personally involved, though, he had no delusions. The Pony may have been small in stature, but his stare was legendary, and his presence was enough to silence a crowd with a simple action. Herne knew it was only a matter of time, before he had to face that legend himself. Part of him wished he hadn’t signed the contract. A fast death may have been preferable to moldering away in a closet, until nothing was left.
A low sputter sounded in his ears as the candle’s wick neared the bottom of the holder and the flame guttered in a desperate attempt to stay alive. Light and shadow spun and twirled in a waltz-like dance as the bull eyed the display. A low familiar crooning carried through the vaults of his memories as he thought back to the gourd his mother had carved him when he was just a calf. Stars, suns, moons, bulls, cows, and so much more would spin slowly around the wall of his tent on the spinning wheel she had prepared, just like this. Herne sighed as he sat down and leaned forward to enjoy those last hints of warmth. And then the candle flickered. The shadows spun again, lashing up the walls in a dreadful mockery of lightning.
He never noticed the Pony standing in the corner on black-wreathed hooves. He never noticed as the Pony raised his foreleg and the shadows writhed. He never noticed as the sigh passed his lips and his shoulders slumped forward, snuffing the last spark. He never noticed as his head toppled into his lap to stare with mouth agape at the Pony, while the blood drained, dying his fur a deeper scarlet that dried to a crumbly reddish-black. It blinked once, twice, three times, and then closed its eyes, never to behold the world of the living again as the blood spurting from its former resting place finally slowed to a burbling trickle, and then to a steady drip that ran ever so slowly down his fur to pool on the floor beneath his head.
Herne the hunter mercenary was dead.
“Poison,” Hammer Strike muttered disdainfully as he looked to Herne with glowing eyes. “Quite indirect, and far too slow.” He nodded in satisfaction as he wiped a cloth stealthily along the blade Gakushu had made for him, then sheathed the katana respectfully, before he entered the shadows once more, leaving the room in utter silence.
Justice had been done.
The chief’s face was grim as he stared Mkuta down. A hat woven from living wood and green grass shoots stretched back around his head, accentuated by a variety of feathers and flowers that spread a sweet scent throughout the room. His baggy eyes and sagging back were clear signs of the toll his years of leadership had taken on him as age continued its deadly advance. A vivacious mare with a longer mane and a series of golden bangles down her neck looked up at the old stallion with concern.
“You’ve brought an outsider into the Moyo Wa Roho at the time of the great gathering. I assume you have a reason, Mkuta?” the chief asked.
“Yes, Mwalimu,” Mkuta said with a respectful bow. “I have several.”
“And they are?”
“For one, the village where he was found is not one likely to be visited by his kind, and no one spoke his tongue there. Secondly, the colt has amnesia. He remembers nothing of his past life, save for basic knowledge I’ve been able to coax out of him through our interaction.”
“Then a messenger will need to be dispatched to the nearest settlement for his people to reclaim him.”
“I don’t believe that would be wise, Mwalimu,” Mkuta said as he reached into his saddle pack and gingerly removed a charred fragment of wood. “He was found by Mwokozi Cave, with this in his possession.” He handed the remnant to the chief. “From what he tells me, he woke inside the cave with no memory of how he got there. You and I both know that entrance is protected. No stranger would be allowed to enter that place without permission, no matter how powerful their magic may be.”
Mwalimu examined the fragment carefully. “Are you suggesting what I think you’re suggesting, Mkuta?”
“I am.”
“The odds are very unlikely. His kind are far from charitable.”
“He is different.”
Mwalimu narrowed his gaze. “That remains to be seen.”
“What do you intend to do with him, then?”
“We will test him,” Mwalimu said simply. “When the remainder of our numbers arrive, the conclave can begin. Then we will see what we will see.”
“And in the meantime?”
“He will be watched. You know the rules. We don’t show them our magic.”
“He isn’t–.”
“This isn’t open for discussion,” Mwalimu said as he slammed his hoof on the floor. His chest heaved and the mare at his side rose to lay a hoof gently against his forehead.
“Father, you need to control yourself. You know these outbursts aren’t good for your health.”
It took a few moments, but Mwalimu finally managed to regain control of himself. The bout settled into a gradual series of meditative breaths. He closed his eyes for a time, then finally opened them. “Thank you, Zecora. I’m fine.” He nuzzled the mare gently and gave a weak smile. “My time hasn’t come just yet.” Then he turned back to Mkuta. “You know as well as I do that the council ruled against showing anything to another of their kind.”
“He isn’t Star Swirl.”
“No, he is not. But he is a Unicorn. All of them are drawn to power in one way or another. We cannot risk Equestria learning any more about our arts than it already has. If he is the one our brothers and sisters gave their lives to be able to summon, the diviners will be able to tell it, as will the spirits.”
“You really do intend to go through with this, then?”
“I must. Or have you forgotten what happened the last time one of Equestria’s ‘nobles’ came to our lands?”
“And what is to happen to him in the meantime?”
“He is to be watched closely. We can’t afford to take any chances.”
Mkuta gaped. “Surely, you don’t intend to imprison him.”
“Tell me, Mkuta. Is he fluent in our language?”
“No, but–.”
“Then he will be taught. And until he becomes fluent, he will be confined. Will this not serve as a just compromise?”
“He may not stand for it.”
“He will, or he will face the consequences. You will explain this to him.”
“And who is to be his teacher? I will need to attend the conclave. You know this as well as I.”
“Zecora will serve as a teacher and judge. She shows great promise and has yet to have her path revealed by the spirits.”
“And should he need to be summoned to be read?”
“Then he will be summoned. I am cautious, Mkuta, not unreasonable.” Mwalimu shook his head, then turned to Zecora. “Will you do this for me, daughter?”
“If that is what you wish, Father.”
“It is, my daughter.” Mwalimu leaned down to kiss her gently on the forehead.
“There is one other piece of evidence that should be presented to the council, Mwalimu, before they decide.”
“And that is?”
“The colt’s name. In the Equestrian tongue, it is pronounced Vital Spark.”
Mwalimu stiffened. “You are sure of this?”
“I am.”
Mwalimu sputtered, then snorted and shook his head. “My decision still stands. I will not be swayed on the matter, until we have more information that I know can be trusted.”
“If that is your wish. I defer to you wisdom, Mwalimu.” Mkuta bowed his head once again. “Have I permission to depart and explain the situation?”
“You do. Take Zecora with you. They may as well get to know each other now.”
Zecora looked uncertainly at her father, but then she braced herself, rose, and strode over to Mkuta.
“Be well, Mwalimu,” Mkuta said by way of farewell.
“May the spirits guide your path,” Mwalimu returned. Then he frowned as they left. “And may they preserve us, if he is the one,” he muttered to himself as he sank wearily to the floor again. He sighed tiredly. “I’m getting too old for these surprises.”
Hammer Strike tapped his hoof impatiently as he stood waiting for the others to arrive. He was currently in his forge, having just finished the last touches on a small dagger.
Grif arrived quickly, though his body clanked with the new addition of the axe. It was quite obvious he’d left little up to chance, opting to take as much as he could carry and hope to not need it.
Hammer Strike eyed his friend for a moment, before returning to the dagger in his hooves. “I see you’re quite prepped.”
“I can’t put a talon on it, but I feel like we’re in for something big with whatever’s on the other side of the portal. I don’t want to take chances,” Grif said as he twisted his neck to crack it.
“Fair enough,” Hammer Strike shrugged. “You might have to help me somewhat, afterwards. Just transporting matter is one thing, but trying to focus it through time is going to drain me significantly.”
“Wouldn’t be the first time I hauled your ass out of a tight spot,” Grif chuckled.
“Well, I hope I can still add my wings to the endeavor,” Pensword said as he clopped through the great double doors into the sweltering heat. Fox Feather, Moon River, and Lunar Fang stood in file behind him and he sighed. “Moon River insisted that they come as well, despite promising to keep our departure a secret. I couldn’t exactly tell her no.” He smiled sadly. “She wants to see Daddy off.” Then he frowned. “She seems to have reached the tantrum stage. She acts more like a two-year-old than her actual age. As for talk of inventory, I’ve also got my short sword and other weapons packed, on top of my wing blades.”
“Fine enough,” Hammer Strike replied simply. Then he rolled his shoulders and snorted heavily. “All right, let’s get this rolling,” he finished, pocketing the dagger. To ensure as much safety as he could, the air around the three of them began lingering with embers, leaving them in a separate dome to make sure nobody tried diving in at the last second. After a few seconds, the thaumic fire in his hooves began to spread up to his shoulders as he focused more and more energy forward. Slowly, a small ring of energy took form in front of him. It spun and swirled with the thaumic energies he held so tightly in command as he eased them into the space, gradually widening the hole to the point where it could fit a fully grown Minotaur. After a minute of sustained size, the ring of fire flared purple, and he let off with a heavy sigh. “All right, follow after me,” he told the group as he stepped forward into the ring, vanishing along with it.
It was at this point that another ring of fire appeared several feet away from the first one. Following that, Hammer Strike stepped out of it and glanced to the group. “Great. Well, that explains why you took your time,” he muttered to himself.
Moon River giggled and clapped her hooves as Pensword realized something. “Uh BYE!” he shouted diving into the first ring as fast as his wings could carry him. He did not want to meet his future self and create some crazy time paradox.
Hammer Strike frowned as he shook his head. “That’s the reason I told you guys to stay behind a few minutes. I expected this to happen,” he commented as he looked to Grif. “Well, go on now. I could really use the help.”
Grif drew a stiletto and stalked into the portal, readying himself for whatever lay on the other side.
Hammer Strike dropped onto a knee as he took a few steadying breaths. “Divine above. This will be the death of me, if I keep this up.”
“The waters of life flow from the sacred mountain,” Vital Spark said slowly.
“Good. Good,” Zecora encouraged. “Now let’s try that again. You were a little harsh on a few of your syllables.”
Vital Spark sighed as he rubbed his throat. “Zwahili is a difficult language.”
Zecora shrugged. “You simply need to develop the range for it. That always takes time.”
“Say, Zecora?”
“Yes?”
“What’s it like? Being a shaman, I mean. Do you really talk with spirits?”
Zecora tapped her chin as she considered the question, causing the golden bands around her forehoof to jangle. “I wouldn’t exactly call it talking, at least not in the way you and I converse. It is rare for a spirit of nature to interact in such a manner. Occasionally, they will, if the situation demands it, but they prefer to make contact through our instincts and our connection with the land. In that way, you could say we are very much like your Earth Ponies. But … there is a time once a year, where those who are ready to come of age are brought here to the mountain. It is during this time that we are allowed contact with other spirits. Those who have passed, those that dwell in nature, and even those who have yet to be born. That contact awakens something within us, and marks us in a way that can never be undone.”
“It sounds like a cutie mark,” Vital brayed, then coughed, much to the mare’s amusement.
“Perhaps a small respite,” Zecora allowed as a knowing smile pulled at her lips. “I doubt Mkuta would approve, if I left you unable to speak at all.” She turned and spoke a few words to one of the guards who maintained a watchful vigil day and night over the Unicorn. One of the two nodded and left to return a few minutes later with some water for the two to share.
“Say, Zecora?” Vital finally asked.
“Yes?”
“What are those things the guards are holding called?” He pointed to the long staff with a bent gnarled end that looked to be part stone and part wood blending seamlessly into the other resting rigidly in the guards’ grips. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen something like them before.”
“They are rungu, a ceremonial weapon that can be used for all manner of applications. A skilled user can take out an enemy from a distance and have it return to their grasp in time to use again. We haven’t had to make war in millenia, though, so I can’t say for sure how true that last boast really is.”
“Are they hard to use?”
“I’m afraid I wouldn’t know. I’ve received basic self defense training, but my main focus has been on the arts of my ancestors. Our family have always been shamans from the beginning.”
“So, if the spirits are the ones who show you your potential, then … why haven’t they shown you yours?”
Zecora’s head suddenly snapped up from her drinking. “What?”
“Your flanks are still striped in a regular pattern. That means the spirits haven’t shown you the way you’re supposed to take yet, right?”
Quite suddenly, Vital Spark found himself staring off to the side of the hut as he sprawled on the ground with a throbbing pain in his cheek. His vision swam slightly as he suddenly felt the heavy weight of a rungu on top of his head. A hint of blue light faded from Zecora’s hoof as she looked down on him. “What did I say?” he complained.
“You did what?” Mkuta exclaimed as he, Zecora, and Mwalimu sat in council together in the chief’s quarters.
“He insulted me.”
“He was asking a question!” Mkuta raged. “That colt is literally that, a colt. I didn’t choose the word for play. He remembers almost nothing of his past and knows only a smattering of our culture, from what I was able to teach him on our way here. He is like a child. He wants to learn, to understand, not mock an insecure filly on the cusp of marehood.”
“Mkuta,” Mwalimu said gently, “I think you’ve made your point.”
“With all due respect, Mwalimu, I haven’t even begun to make my point,” Mkuta fumed. “Your daughter has let her fear of social ostracization blind her to her purpose.” He rounded on Zecora again. “If you had lost even the slightest hint of control, that blow you struck could have damaged his brain or rendered him blind. You could have crippled him for life, if not killed him outright. We do not use our gifts that way, except in the direst of circumstances!” He slammed his hoof angrily into the ground. “The mark that you long for so desperately is inconsequential. For the land’s sake, you’re the chieftain’s daughter! You stand well above your peers in skill and craft. You’ve already proven yourself multiple times. Stop acting like a child about this and start being a leader!”
“Mkuta,” Mwalimu barked. “That is enough!”
Mkuta’s nostrils flared, and he snorted multiple times as he struggled to rein in his temper. “It will be enough for her to think about, true enough,” he said as he turned towards the doorway. “I am going to check on our guest. I expect an apology, after you’ve had enough time to reflect on my words, Zecora.” He nodded briefly to the chief. “Mwalimu.”
Mwalimu sighed as Mkuta took his leave. “He’s right, you know. You’re still impulsive, Zecora. Wisdom will come with time, but if you wish to be able to lead someday, you must learn to acknowledge when you are at fault and make up for past mistakes. Enough reactions like that and you’re likely to become a tyrant, rather than a leader.” He approached the seat where Zecora had been sitting stone-faced as she took the brunt of Mkuta’s words. Then he laid a hoof on her shoulder and caressed her mane lovingly. “It’s often in times like this that the true nature of our character can be laid bare.” He smiled then and backed off a ways. “I’ll give you time to ponder over that. I know you prefer to leave the village, when you need to think. You have my permission, should you feel the need. Just make sure to come back safely.” He paused as he approached the door and turned to face his daughter. “And Zecora, I love you. Never forget that.”
Vital Spark’s sleep was anything but peaceful. His head still throbbed from the blow Zecora had landed on him, and that pulsing ached deep in his skull. Mkuta had been kind enough to provide an herbal remedy, but it only helped to dull the pain somewhat.
“Sleep will be your best healer,” Mkuta had insisted.
The Unicorn wasn’t so sure of that.
Whenever the darkness took him, strange images and faces would stalk his dreams. Living shadows surged from a cave wall, eager to consume him. A frightful looking Unicorn with streaked hair fired bolts of lightning between his legs, daring him to speak out against her. Then came the demented cackle of a mind unhinged, and a terrible cold that burned against the hide beneath his fur as his body shuddered again and again. A strange creature’s face appeared with a broader, bulkier muzzle and two great pointed horns curving up from its forehead. Suddenly, that face contorted in rage, and the eyes glowed red as it charged. It warped into something unearthly, and Vital Spark moaned, before starting awake. The cool night air danced over his fur, and he shivered as he scanned over his body. There were no signs of damage. No burns, no blood, no scars. Still, he shuddered. In his sleep-addled state, he could almost swear he heard the shrill whinnies of Ponies driven to a frenzy. But whether they were real or merely a figment of his subconscious, he could not tell as he dropped once again into that restless slumber and the fitful dreams that haunted him.
The days wore on, and with each passing night, more travellers would arrive. Some bore the fanciful trappings of a lush green land, their garb layered by a rainbow of colorful feathers and aromatic flowers. Other Zebras arrived as Mkuta had, having only the bare essentials to fulfill their craft. Others still carried great masks that obscured most of their body, each bearing a unique expression portraying anger, rage, sorrow, compassion, and much more. Some bore intricate convex shields bedecked by feathers and beads with various symbols painted along the tanned hide in unique patterns and shapes.
Finally, after a month of waiting, the tent city had swelled to capacity, and the preparations began. Torches were spread through the many paths, stretching out from the great meeting lodge at the center of town. Crystals sat bathing in the sun’s light for hours as incense was lit and Zebras meditated. The great fire pit was prepared and loaded with dried wood to burn, and more crystals had been laid around the fire in a series of rings for the ceremonial dances that were to come.
Day carried into night, and with the last rays of the sun, the crystals flared to life, glowing and pulsing like a frozen flame. On that unspoken signal, the procession began. Each of the Zebras from near and far strode from their tents in their respective garb. Many bore special body paints in intricate patterns as they marched solemnly with their staves. Others wore the great medicine masks, while the greener Zebras simply walked patiently. The diviners each strode forward with their pouches and special mats for the casting of lots and formulae for various divination rituals to utilize in the great fire.
The rapid beat of the drums flowed through the air from the center of the camp, calling all to enter and join the communion of the conclave. Due to the unique size of the gathering, a tower had been constructed for Mwalimu to stand on, so that he could address the host properly. He walked up to the platform on wobbly legs with the assistance of a pair of warriors bedecked in their finest garb, a set of red robes that could be discarded at a moment’s notice for ease of movement and a pair of ceremonial spears bedecked with ebony and pearls held in place by a finely woven net.
At last, the ways into the center of the village were filled to capacity, and the spiritually inclined stared up with baited breath as the rapid beat of the drums came to a thunderous crescendo and then broke off to die into the swelling night. Mwalimu cleared his throat.
“My brothers and sisters,” he began, “long has it been since the great call was sounded and the gathering commenced. We have enjoyed peace and prosperity in that time, sharing the wealth and knowledge that we have accrued one with another at the behest of the spirits.” He looked gravely at the gathering. “But now, that peace is threatened. The land cries out, and the spirits have issued their summons to our tribes and villages far and wide.” He raised a hoof and spread it across his field of vision. “You all have felt it. You all have seen the signs of change, of fear, of doubt and cloud. Our lands, our very way of life, may be in danger.”
He sighed and ran a hoof tiredly down the bridge of his nose. “And on top of these fears, a new concern has come to light in the form of an Equestrian outsider brought to us from Mwokozi Cave.”
Several cries of outrage poured out from the throng, paired with the murmurings of fear and demands for an explanation. Mwokozi let it go on for a time, then raised his hooves placatingly and called out again.
“The outsider is in custody. And from what we are able to ascertain, he has no memory of breaking our laws or even seeking to overcome the taboo that was set on that cavern. It is for this reason that I stand before you now. To understand this outsider, we require a proper diviner, one who is able to judge one’s character by seeing beyond the outer flesh, one who is able to peer beyond the veil of time to foretell the portents of what is to be. I call for the wisest and eldest among your number to step forth, and I call for the youngest and humblest to join. The two together shall use their gifts to ascertain what is to be done.”
An elderly Zebra covered in ragged dusty robes stepped forward. He had a string of red beads that hung loosely over the sides of the hood of his robe and connected to an aurix skull that rested above his head. In his hoof, he carried a gnarled branch from an elder tree that hung with many pieces of colored glass.
“I am Mustafa the Walker, he who has traveled the lands beyond and returned. I offer my long days to the conclave for whatever wisdom they can bring.” He bowed his head low.
“I thank you on behalf of the conclave,” Mwalimu said. Then he turned his gaze over the remaining Zebras. “But what of the young? Will none step forward? Will none seek to aid us in this time of fear and uncertainty?”
No one stepped forward. Nobody answered.
“Very well, then.” Mwalimu nodded to his guards, only for Mustafa to release a dusty ancient chuckle.
“Forgive me, friend, but you yourself have requested the humblest to join us. Had anyone spoken up, would they really fit what you asked for?”
Mwalimu smiled gratefully to the diviner. “That is why we must rely on a different source to choose.”
He reached over and seized a gnarled walking stick with three fruit pods tied to its edge. He shook it a few times to test the heft, then tapped it solemnly three times on the floor of the tower. The knocking reverberated with the titanic boom of a great iron door, and the winds began to pick up as the dust rustled and played with the eddies that blew through the gathering. Finally, a young mare with gangly legs and a dead eye tumbled into the dirt with a cry of surprise. A single golden ribbon had been tied around her neck, and she blushed violently as the gathering stared down at her. A clattering rattle sounded from a ragged pouch crafted from rough sack cloth. The lines along her flanks flowed like broad brush strokes to form the image of a great seeing eye staring out into the unknown.
“I believe we have our diviner,” Mwalimu said with a satisfied smile. The earth that had been below where she once stood writhed briefly, then settled back into its flat, static state.
“But, but … I’m not good enough,” the mare whispered as she shuffled her hooves.
“You would not fit the picture, if you believed you were,” Mustafa laughed as he took a seat on the ground. “Come, girl. Did the spider shy away from capturing the great boa? Come, and do not fear. You are in good company.”
“So, y-you want us to … divine what, exactly, bwana?” the mare asked as she approached on shaky legs to stand next to the elder stallion.
Mwalimu nodded to his guards, and they offered up a sealed container. He opened it briefly, reviewed the contents, then nodded. The guard took it back and delivered it to the pair. When the vessel was opened again, the two diviners peered inside to behold a series of golden hairs. “These were taken from the outsider, with his consent. It is your task to use them to divine his past and future respectively, with the spirits’ aid.”
Mustafa smirked a bit as he withdrew one of the hairs. “Gold seems most fitting. In the lands beyond, gold is highly priced.” He laughed, before setting it before him and concentrating. The glass chimed musically as the pieces collided in some unseen breeze. Without warning the hair smoked as an invisible flame burned it in an instant and Mustafa inhaled the fumes. He sat back and closed his eyes. When he opened them again, they were clouded, as though they themselves were filled with smoke.
“The spirits tell me this outsider comes from far, much farther away than any would truly believe. He was taken against his will. He was changed out of necessity, yet even now he clings to those he called friends in a realm alien to him. The spirits tell me he has traveled through much hardship, but has not let it darken him. His coming may be a boon to us.” Mustafa blinked, and the smoke in his eyes vanished. “That is all they say.”
“Your words are appreciated, albeit troubling, Mustafa.” Mwalimu frowned. “Thank you.” Then all eyes turned to the young mare.
The little diviner gulped heavily as she reached into the bowl and withdrew the hair, then spread out a simple woven mat onto the ground. She wove the hair gently through the fibers, being careful not to snap it. Then she pulled out her pouch and removed a plain wooden vessel with a small lid. She took a deep breath and exhaled onto the container and the mat beneath it. Then her hooves began to glow with blue light. She shook the bowl rhythmically and the blue light flared, licking up her hooves like fire as she stood on her hind hooves and began to step slowly at first, then faster and with greater confidence.
The tempo of her shaking became a vivacious percussion as her hind hooves also ignited. Soon her strutting became a dance as her belly shook and sparkling dirt puffed up with each step. The light raced up her black stripes like gunpowder, igniting the eyes that rested at her flanks, while the ribbon took on new life, streaming outwards to surround her body in a gauzy layer of what looked almost like magic mist. Her short mane flowed out behind her with extensions of the same blue light reaching all the way down her back and tinged with white as her eyes opened. The dead eye glowed brightly, while her good eye had become as black as night. She stopped at last, staring sightlessly into the distance, before deliberately pulling the top off her makeshift maraca to dump a series of carefully carved wooden figures onto the mat below.
The mat began to glow and the lots with it as the mare spoke out in a clear, ringing voice. “The instrument of prophecy is come, and the colt shall be a herald of woe, for within a full cycle of the seasons, the sun shall burn hot, and the land will wither. No part will be spared this desiccation, and the earth will weep, but none shall comfort her, save one.
“The Spark of Life will set things right, but it will not mean the end, rather a beginning. The fires of war will rage, and the ancient feuds long since left shall be renewed. Only with the aid of the spark will the true children of the earth be revealed and the long war laid to rest on sacred ground. Therefore, hear the will of the spirits. Guard well the spark. Train him. Teach him the sacred arts and show forth love. By so doing, the land will be spared and our people will weather the storm.
“You shall know him by the sign he bears, the sign which even now lies in the possession of the chief of chiefs, the elder of the conclave. Prepare you, therefore, every elder, every shaman, every warrior, every healer and cultivator; for the time of the great conflict is nigh at hand, and you shall know its coming when the ice of the mountain is brought to the plains of the savannah and the usurpers are cast out. Thus shall life flow freely once again and the land be saved. But who shall tend it? Know that that question will be settled with blood and steel, with wood and bone, with sacred stone. And this conflict shall decide the fate of the divided land once and for all.”
The mare dropped slowly to her hooves, then lowered herself to the ground. The light faded from her coat. Her mane retreated to its short cropped state. The ribbon returned to normal, and she let out a weary sigh as she blinked her eyes back to their usual appearance. Beneath her, a trace of greenery had grown up to intertwine with the mat over the Unicorn’s hair.
The conclave stared in utter silence at the mare. She blushed heavily and quickly darted behind Mustafa to try to avoid all the gazes that followed her.
Mwalimu gauged the gathering as he withdrew the charred fragment Mkuta had given him.
Mustafa laughed. “It seems our little friend has a gift for not just spirits, but the old ones as well.”
“Then it would seem we have little choice,” Mwalimu said huskily, then cleared his throat. “In accordance with the prophecy and the word of our diviners, the Unicorn known as Vital Spark shall live under our protection and tutelage. He will spend time in each of the three great settlements, starting and ending here at the Moyo Wa Roho. Will any Zebra object to this?”
None did.
“So be it. Tonight, we praise the spirits and the old ones for their guidance. Tomorrow, we must send the strongest and fastest among us to the chiefs of the warrior camp to the northeast and the cultivationists to the southwest. The council of elders must convene to plan for what is to come and to decide the order of the outsider’s training.” He smashed his staff against the floor of his platform. “Let the communion begin!”
Vital Spark’s welcoming smile soon faded as he watched Mkuta drag himself through the doorway that led into his guest quarters. “You look awful,” he said hesitantly in Zwahili.
Mkuta smiled weakly. “A conclave always ends with a communion. It often leads late into the night, sometimes reaching to sunrise. I will recover, after a good night’s sleep. I thank you for your concern, however.” He nodded towards the mare attending the Unicorn. “Zecora,” he acknowledged. “Thank you for taking care of him.”
Zecora inclined her head. “It is my duty, after all.”
“It may be now, even more so than before,” he said seriously. “Have you spoken with your father yet?”
Zecora shook her head. “It’s better to let him rest, after a night like that.”
“Perhaps so. There will be much for him to do in the coming days. The boy’s lessons will have to be accelerated.”
“What? Why?”
“Because we now have a time limit, Zecora, and he needs to be fluent, before that time is up. Until then, it will fall to you to be his teacher in language, and quite possibly the ancient ways as well.”
“What?” Zecora balked.
“Is something the matter?” Vital Spark asked as he looked back and forth between the two, uncomprehending.
“I’ll explain tomorrow, assuming your father doesn’t beat me to it. Treat him well, Zecora. Help him learn how to act in our society. His stay is to be extended. That’s all you need know for now.”
Zecora glared harshly at Mkuta. “Your explanation had best be a good one,” she said curtly.
“If you are so eager to know, ask the spirits yourself,” Mkuta said tiredly. He let out a heavy yawn and rubbed at the bags under his eyes. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, it’s time I made my way to bed.” He turned to Vital Spark and smiled goodnaturedly. “No need to fear, Vital Spark. We’re just going to be focusing more on your education is all. I do need to get some sleep, though. I just wanted to make sure everything was all right.”
“It’s wonderful,” Vital said in his heavy accent.
Mkuta chuckled as he turned back toward the door. “Good. Good.” And with that, he passed back out into the early morning. The temperature had already begun to rise dramatically, and he sighed in disappointment. “Keep that enthusiasm with you, Vital Spark,” he muttered as he plodded heavily through the deserted streets of the village. “You’re going to need it.”
Extended Holiday Ch 144: A Year in the Life Act 23
Vital Spark waved nervously as he passed through the village’s dusty streets. True, he had been granted his freedom, but now he had to worry about proper interaction, and that scared the fur right off him.
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” he asked for what had to be the third time.
Zecora rolled her eyes. “I told you, no speaking in Equish, unless you absolutely have to. The point of this exercise is to help you learn how to interact with and comprehend our language. It’s your first practical examination. Now let’s go interact.” She gave him a solid shove with her head, and he stumbled forward. “Go on,” she insisted in her native tongue. “We’re going to pick up some herbs from the cultivator, remember?”
Vital Spark gulped.
“And yes, you’re the one who’s going to ask for the ingredients.
If Vital Spark were a dog, he definitely would have whimpered.
The cultivator’s hut was located near a great baobab tree and his garden was lush and green, despite the crippling heat that scorched down from above. He dug into the earth with a sharp metal spade to help aerate the soil, but soon raised his neck to fling the dirt over his body accidentally in reaction to the guests’ sudden arrival.
“Oh, Zecora, you–you startled me.” The stallion chuckled nervously. Much like his fellows, he bore the same rigid mane. This one differentiated himself by the rough hide smock he wore over his front and down his barrel.
“Um … h-hello,” Vital Spark rasped out nervously.
“And you brought the colt with you. Excellent! How are his language studies coming along?”
“Reasonably well, Kidole Kijani,” Zecora allowed. “We’re testing the extent of his mastery by having him interact with some of the village. You’re our first stop.”
“How delightful!” Kidole grinned as he approached the young Unicorn. “And how may I be of service to you today?”
Vital Spark puzzled through that for a time, then finally nodded as he looked none too confidently on the cultivator. “Um, may I have some … devil’s maw?”
“Devil’s maw?” the Zebra tapped his chin for a time, and then his eyes widened. “Oh, you mean devil’s claw,” he said. “Very close. You put the emphasis in the wrong place for your bray. Let me get that for you.” He strode confidently to a patch of long green leaves studded by the occasional purple blossom. It only took him a second to stab his spade into the earth and flick it expertly. A great tuberous root shot up out of the ground perfectly. Kidole instantly dropped the spade and snatched the great leaves of the plant in his mouth, before carrying it over and laying it down in front of the pair. “Was there anything else you needed?”
Vital Spark looked uncertainly between the horticulturist and his teacher. Zecora shot him a reproving look, and he sighed. “And buchu for her grand–.” He stopped momentarily, frowned, tapped his chin for a few moments, then tried again. “For her … father?”
Zecora gave a subtle nod of approval and Kidole sighed. “Of course,” he said. Then he turned to Zecora and shook his head. “I wish he wouldn’t push himself so hard. One of these days, those joints of his are going to burst on him, if he’s not careful.”
“Knowing him, he would just find another way to carry on, regardless,” Zecora said with a rueful smile.”
Suddenly, the root was floating in the air, along with the green sprig with five white petals that had been cut from a bushel on the ground. “He is … strong,” Vital Spark said firmly. “Will be good.”
“His speech is still limited,” Kidole noted clinically, “but his heart’s in the right place. He’s learning fast.”
“I have good teachers,” Vital Spark replied, much to both Zebras’ surprise. He smiled proudly as he drew the herbs towards him for closer inspection. Then his brow furrowed. “More buchu?” he asked.
“More?” Kidole asked, surprised.
“For Mkuta,” Vital explained. He looked to Zecora. “Won’t he need some, too?”
Zecora shook her head. “I told you only Zwahilli,” she chided.
“But Mkuta–.”
“Can come for his own or send for it, if he needs it. We only have so much that we can spare, Vital Spark. And the plant can only have so much taken from it, without dying out of shock, just like if you were to lose a leg.” She strode up to him and looked him squarely in the eye. “We take only what we need. Understand?” she asked in Zwahilli.
Vital Spark gulped and nodded.
“Good.” She turned back to Kidole. “Thank you so much for your help.”
Kidole bowed. “It was my pleasure. He learns well.”
“It helps that I’m not teaching a little child.”
Kidole chuckled. “Perhaps. Until next we meet, Zecora. May the spirits continue to smile upon you.”
“And on you,” Zecora said by way of farewell. And then they were off again with a curt jerk of the head from the mare.
Vital Spark sighed as he lay sprawled out on his back, staring up into the night sky. A whole universe of stars sparkled and danced, emphasized by the occasional flash of a passing shooting star.
“Sway, sway as the music plays. Dance to the movement of the stars,” he sang softly. “Hidden beauty lies in simple things, a loved one’s face or a child’s dream. Round and round the old boughs sway as they dance to the movement of the stars, dance to the music of the stars.” He hummed gently to himself as he basked in the moon’s silvery light and closed his eyes, while the crystalline hum of his horn provided a curious counterpoint to his melody.
The sudden scraping of rock on dirt grated in the Unicorn’s ears, and he cut off, quickly jumping to his hooves as he crouched defensively. “Who’s there?” he demanded as the light from his horn ignited again. “Show yourself.”
“Is that a way to treat a friend?” Mkuta’s smile was gentle, albeit somewhat reproving as he approached the rise where Vital Spark perched. “You know, you’re not supposed to leave the village unescorted.”
Vital Spark sighed. “I know. I just … I had to get away for a while, you know? I need time to just think.”
Mkuta trotted over and planted himself beside the colt, before peering up into the sky above. “What about?”
Vital sputtered. “Where do I begin? I’m stuck in a country that supposedly isn’t my own, with no memory of who I was before, in a place where hardly anyone speaks my language. Everyone in the village stares at me like one look from me could kill, and Zecora!” He groaned. “Don’t even get me started on her. She’s bossy, pushy, a royal pain in my flank whenever I make the littlest mistake. There are days I swear she has it out for me, and I still don’t know what I even did wrong. It’s maddening!”
Mkuta chuckled. “That is often the way with young mares. I can’t say much for the villagers, but I can say Zecora has quite the burden on her shoulders. She is the only heir to the chiefdom. She wants to be worthy to take up the mantle and serve the tribe, but one thing prevents her from doing so, and it frustrates her to no end.”
“What?” Vital asked in Zwahilli.
“She has yet to receive her calling. And without that, she will never truly be considered of age.”
“Her calling?”
“I believe we discussed it at some length when we first met, if you’ll recall. The spirits mark us, when we are ready. It is a symbol of passage. Zecora has yet to receive that mark, a fact you were only too happy to point out to her, when you first met.”
Vital promptly facehoofed and groaned. “No wonder she hates me.”
“Hate is a strong word, Vital Spark.”
“She’s too harsh. You can see it in everything she does. People who know her treat her well enough, but I’ve seen some of the diviners run in absolute terror, when they see her coming. I wouldn’t be surprised, if they saw a portent of that harshness going too far.”
Vital Spark promptly received a smack to the back of the head.
“Ow! What was that for? he yelled.
“For letting a bad experience color your own perceptions,” Mkuta said simply.
“That hurt,” Vital complained.
“Yes, the past can hurt. But the way I see it, you can either run from it or learn from it.”
“You know, I could swear I’ve heard that somewhere before,” Vital Spark said as his horn glowed, catching the staff mid-swing. He tapped his chin curiously.
After a bit of yanking, Mkuta finally got the staff back. “What’s more important is whether you understand the lesson,” he said pointedly.
“So, try to be more patient and understanding with Zecora by acknowledging she has problems of her own?”
“That is probably the best way to go about things.”
“You do realize I’m going to have to call her on it, if she gets too far out of hand, right?”
“Isn’t the term out of hoof?”
Vital Spark shrugged. “It feels more natural to say it that way. I’m not sure why.”
“I see.” Mkuta looked up at the sky again for a time, then sighed. “Well, I’d best get back to the village. You will be coming back soon, won’t you?”
“Yeah. I just want to stay out a while longer. Stargazing is just more peaceful for me, you know?”
“And it makes it easier to sing without judgemental ears?”
Vital Spark blushed. “That, too….”
Mkuta smiled knowingly. “In that case, sing away, my young friend. I’ll leave you to it.” And with that, he strolled casually into the night, leaving Vital Spark to himself again. In a few more minutes, the young Unicorn’s voice carried softly on the air again.
Up on a higher ledge, Zecora stared down in silence, watching her charge as she pondered over the exchange.
The chieftain’s personal chambers were simple. A series of various tools for his trade lay in racks, shelves, and jars, awaiting his touch. His eyes weren’t so bloodshot as they had been the night after the conclave, and his formal headdress streamed down his back as he peered seriously at the Unicorn before him.
“I’m sure you, doubtless, have questions.”
“Quite a few of them, yes,” Vital Spark said pointedly as he ate from the bowl of fruit. “And, admittedly, one of them is, is there some place where I could get ahold of some meat?”
“Excuse me?”
“Meat. Do you know where I can get some?” Vital repeated. “I was looking at my reflection the other day, and I realized something different about me, compared to the rest of the tribe.” He reached up and pulled his lip back to reveal the two canines jutting down from the rest of his teeth. “Since I have these, that makes me a meat-eater, too, right?
Mwalimu gaped at the Unicorn. “That’s not supposed to be possible.”
“And yet, here we are,” Vital replied. “I’d been wondering why I haven’t been making any more progress in my recovery. My guess is this is the reason. Until I get some meat in my system, my body’s probably going to be stuck in the same place, and possibly get worse. I just think the symptoms have been masked by the effects from when I collapsed in the desert.”
“This … may complicate things.”
“Not really. If you could just point me towards a fresh river, I could fish out what I need.”
“And if there are no fish for you to consume?”
“Then I’ll just have to find another source.”
“And if we can’t find one?”
“I think we both know what will happen, if we don’t, Chief Mwalimu.”
“Then we don’t have much choice, do we? We’ll have to let you leave on outings to get the sustenance you need.”
“You … don’t find it revolting?”
“Dietary needs are dietary needs, Vital Spark. Do we begrudge a dragon for its choice to eat gems, or a lion its prey? No.” He shook his head. “Nature must take its course. We merely act when we must to defend ourselves. And last I checked, you weren’t about to put us on the menu. Were you?”
Vital Spark recoiled. “No!”
“Then there’s nothing to worry about. I’ll arrange for some outings to help find what you need, alongside your instruction. My daughter knows all the best places to search.”
“With all due respect, Chief, is there anybody else I might go with, instead? Zecora and I don’t exactly get along very well.”
“She’s the most qualified. She knows every rock, tree, stream, and grass blade. If anyone will guide you to what you need safely and efficiently, it’s her.”
“... You’re going to make me go with her, aren’t you?”
“Yes. Yes, I am.” He looked gravely at the Unicorn. “The two of you have more in common than you know.”
“And what’s that supposed to mean?”
“Merely that you’ll be staying with us for longer than expected, and Mkuta will need to leave with certain other messengers in the coming days. They will return, but in the meantime, you will need a place to stay. Since you haven’t mastered our language yet, my home is the most logical choice. Arrangements are being made as we speak.”
“Don’t I have a say in this?
“Not in particular. As you said yourself, your body is in no condition for extended travel, and it needs proper sustenance. Like it or not, the most logical choice is for you to remain with me and Zecora, until Mkuta returns. It’s not up for discussion.”
Vital’s face darkened. “And am I to be put under house arrest again?” he asked bitterly.
Mwalimu winced. “It was necessary.”
“With all due respect, Mwalimu, I think we both know that’s a pile of manure,” Vital said flatly. “I wasn’t a threat, I hardly knew a word of the language, and I sure as Hel aren’t a spy. Did you honestly think I couldn’t read between the lines?”
“And if someone from another culture you trusted came into your home, laughed with you, supped with you, stayed with you, and then stole the most precious secrets and items in your possession right from under your nose, how do you think you would react, when the next of his kind came through?” Mwalimu countered.
“Are you saying this happened?”
“I don’t know. You tell me.” He narrowed his gaze. “Read between the lines.”
Vital winced. “Okay, I’ll admit I deserved that one. But can you really blame me for feeling so hostile, when all I seem to find is hostility? Well, okay, maybe not hostility so much as … a guardedness. But still, the point stands. And besides that, I thought you were going to help me get back in contact with ‘my kind.’ Why the sudden change?”
“We received some very specific instructions pertaining to certain events that are to come to pass in the near future. You figure large in those events.”
“And that’s all you’re going to tell me?”
“For now, yes. There will be more to be said and discussed in the coming days, but I must counsel with the other great chiefs, before I can say more.” He sighed. “I’m sorry.”
“So am I.” Vital shook his head. “You realize you’re making it sound like I’m to be your prisoner, right? Even if you give me freedom around the village, I’ll only be allowed to go so far, for the sake of my health. Do you have any idea how frustrating that is, knowing that I have no idea where I could go to try to find out more about who I am, and that I could die, if I were to try to leave? All you’ve done is give me a bigger cage. Do you really expect me not to feel at least some resentment for that?”
Mwalimu sighed and shook his head as his shoulders slumped. “No. No, I do not. But, unfortunately, that’s where we stand. If you’re not willing to trust me, then trust Mkuta and be patient. The future that lies ahead is a chaotic one for you and for us. We are seeking a way to navigate through it. If you are patient, then it will benefit both you and us.”
“That bad of a vision?”
“I can say no more on the matter than I already have.”
Vital sputtered in frustration. “Fine. I’ll try to wait for now, but I make no promises as to my behavior and mood.”
Mwalimu smiled weakly then. “Neither does Zecora.”
“Close, but not quite,” Zecora said as she sat cross-legged atop a large rock by the burbling stream. “You were a little too harsh with that bray. It turned your sentence into something … less than flattering.”
Vital Spark groaned and collapsed back onto the ground as the sound of the water’s flow washed over him. His horn hummed as he levitated a steaming stick with a glistening fish draped by a thin layer of silver scales toward his mouth. It was a simple matter to shuck the outer layer and dispose of it in the water. As for the rest, he dunked it liberally in a makeshift sauce formed from the pounded baobab fruits, a hint of herb, and a sprinkling of salt, before taking a big bite.
“You sure you no want this?” he asked, proffering some to her.
“It’s pronounced don’t, Vital Spark. Don’t start getting sloppy on me now.”
“Sloppy?” Vital Spark objected.
“Bad habits are very hard to break, once formed,” Zecora said by way of explanation. “That is one of the reasons I hold you to such a high standard in the first place.”
Vital Spark gasped. “An explanation? From the great and powerful Zecora?” He looked quickly, almost fearfully up into the skies.
“What are you doing?” Zecora finally asked in Zwahilli.
“I thought a bolt of lightning might strike me down.” He grinned impishly at her.
“Would you like me to ask the spirits to arrange it?” Zecora answered coolly.
“Won’t be much different than the mare in my dreams.” Vital shrugged. “So, be my guest.”
“Dreams?” Zecora asked curiously.
“They’ve been going on for a while now. Nothing too concrete, just … a jumble of faces and images, really. Some of them are fights, others are like nightmares, and … one or two of them are really happy.” A flush rose in his cheeks. “I don’t know how much is real and how much is dream, but it’s better than the emptiness.”
“Emptiness?”
“What else do you call being without any of your past memories? And it’s not like many of my new ones have been the most pleasant.”
“You’re being taken care of, aren’t you?”
“Yes, by a mare who constantly looks down on me, threatens me, and punched me in the face for asking a question. That’s what I call real loving care.” Vital Spark rolled his eyes heavenward as he took another bite. And I can’t even hope to begin to make friends, until I learn the language, a feat that will take months at a bare minimum, even with patience from the rest of the Zebras here. Mkuta is gone, and your father has essentially put me under village arrest, with the exception of when I’m allowed to come out here to hunt for meat to eat. Oh, and let’s not forget the unknown reason for why I’m being kept here in the first place, which has to do with some mysterious future that, again, I know nothing about and can’t be bothered to have anything explained to, lest it impact said future negatively. At least, I assume that’s the case, considering how, yet again, everyone is walking on eggshells around me!”
Zecora was silent for a time as she stared at the Unicorn. The evening sun burned red on the horizon, dying the lands scarlet as it passed over the savannah. Neither of the pair spoke for a long time as Vital attacked his fish, leaving Zecora to her thoughts. As the stars began to emerge, she finally rose onto her hooves. “Are you serious about wanting to speak our language fluidly?”
“Do I need to repeat my previous rant?” Vital Spark retorted as he flung the fish bones into the water.
“I may know a way,” she allowed. “It’s cheating, but as you said, we’re on a time table.”
“Gasp! Zecora breaking the rules?”
“That punch will only give you so many free passes,” Zecora warned. “Do you want to try or not? I won’t ask again.”
“Will I still speak Equish?”
Zecora shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“Will it get me out of the village?”
“Yes.”
“In that case, I’m in.”
Zecora smiled. “Good. Meet me by the bonfire tomorrow night. Bring enough food and water to last us a day. If anyone tries to stop us, leave the talking to me.”
“You know, this is very unlike you, Zecora. Are you sure you’re feeling okay?” Vital asked.
Zecora smirked. “How about we simply say there is more to me than meets the eye, and leave it at that?” She chuckled then as she rose to her hooves. “Are you ready to go back?”
Vital sighed heavily as he looked up at the stars. “I suppose so.”
Vital Spark sighed in relief as he plopped himself down under the shade of the massive baobab tree. The heat waves on the savannah floor had begun to amass as the early morning sun climbed towards noon, leaving the plains wavering beyond the shelter the tree’s massive canopy offered. Its trunk spanned as large as the great central hut back at the village, if not wider, and its limbs clawed at the sky, like a free climber at work.
“So, this is what you wanted to show me?” he asked the Zebra as she stepped into the shade with her medicine bag beating against her hip, and her staff in hoof.
“Yes,” she nodded. “This place is … special. I discovered it a few years ago, when wandering. It’s been my secret place ever since,” she explained. “Can you feel it, the energy thrumming in here?”
Vital shook his head. “Not really. I only learned the basics of how to keep my magic in control. Whatever other skills I may have learned before, I don’t think they’re there anymore. And I think that includes sensing other magic.”
“I’m not even sure it’s simply magic, at least by your peoples’ definition of it,” Zecora admitted. “It’s more like a thrumming, possibly like a rapid heartbeat. This place is very much filled with life. It’s … calming.”
Vital looked up into the leafy canopy and watched the boughs sway in a gentle breeze. The leaves seemed almost to whisper as patches of sunlight broke through at varying points to reflect off the emerald facets of the leaves’ thick skins. Then he looked back to the shamaness again. Her face was a mixture of peace, sadness, joy, and a hint of longing. “You used to come here often, didn’t you?” he asked.
“When I could,” she admitted. “With the way things have been lately, chances to come here have been slim to none.”
“Not to pry, but … would that have been before or after your mother, well … you know…?”
“She died. You can say it,” Zecora sighed. “And that didn’t help, but I guess you haven’t been clued in yet. Things aren’t exactly stable right now.”
“Are we referring to you, your father, the status of the tribes as a whole, or a combination thereof?” Vital asked as Zecora began to make her way towards the tree’s trunk.
“Did my father tell you about our nearest neighbors?” Zecora asked.
“No.”
“The closest nation to Zebrica is the Stampede Grounds,” Zecora explained, “which is where the Minotaurs live. Generally, they don’t bother us, because we have similar beliefs, and they’re usually at war with the Gryphons, who live on the opposite end of their territory. However, the Gryphons have apparently pulled back all but their border guards, and the Minotaurs have recently named a new lead bull for all of the tribes. The elders fear that if something goes wrong, it could lead to a war.”
“Um, quick question. What’s a Minotaur, and what’s a Gryphon?”
“You know what a bull is?” Zecora clarified.
“I … think so. Big, bulky, sort of shaggy, with long curving horns, right?”
“Imagine that on two legs, with a bad attitude,” Zecora said. “That’s a Minotaur.”
“And Gryphons?”
“Basically, a lion mixed with an eagle,” Zecora said. “At least, that’s what the elders say. I’ve never actually seen one, myself.”
“And the lion is a creature with hair like a bushel of wildgrass and sharp fangs and claws, right?”
Zecora nodded.
“Can they … look like other birds?”
“Sometimes.” Zecora shrugged. “The elders said the eagle lion mix was more common, though.”
“And you used to fight with these creatures?”
“No. They don’t come out this far, generally.” Zecora shrugged as they finally arrived at the foot of the tree. “The Minotaurs usually fight them. Sometimes, they attack the Equestrians.”
“My people?”
She nodded. “The Gryphons have tried to take Equestria a few times, but they’ve never succeeded.”
“Then why keep trying?”
“How should I know?” Zecora shrugged. “Now come on. It’s just over here,” she said, running her hoof along the rough bark of the trunk.
“Um, what, exactly?”
A brief hum sounded, not unlike the familiar chime of magic as a dim flash of green raced along the outlines of the roots and bark. The tree groaned and creaked as the roots began to withdraw from before them and the trunk gradually split itself open layer by layer, until a great arching entry covered in lush new branches and shoots awaited them. The water that had seeped out of the trunk left the newly formed bark smelling moist and fresh as Zecora trotted confidently through. Vital Spark followed closely behind.
The farther in the pair traveled, the more the walls seemed almost to writhe, until the familiar golden light of water reflected from a pool danced along the edges and over their fur coats, dying Vital’s normally white fur a striped golden, while Zecora gained a third color to contrast her usual black and white. The gentle lapping of water against a shore gradually became louder, until the two finally emerged into a great hollowed-out central unit. Sunlight filtered down to dance along a sparkling pond that glowed an iridescent green as a series of long roots branched out in all directions to create an artificial bottom for the pool. Sprouts and seedlings swayed back and forth in an errant breeze. A single great blossom sprouted in the heart of the pond. Its petals radiated with sunlight and the seed at its center pulsed a dark rich evergreen. Its surface shone like a fine cut emerald. A veritable cornucopia of tiny buds sprouted and then blossomed along the green carpet and the walls of the organically grown chamber, filling the room with a kaleidoscope of color.
“What … is this place?” Vital Spark marveled.
“Honestly, I’m not sure. There’s never been anything like it in any of the stories or writings we have,” Zecora admitted.
“And nobody else knows about it?”
“Not until today,” Zecora admitted.
“And … this is where I can learn faster?”
“Can you feel anything?” she asked. “Just stop and try for a moment.”
“Um … okay,” Vital said uncertainly. He crouched down in the middle of the flowers and contorted his legs into that familiar fold that only the Zebras and most flexible of Ponies seemed capable of replicating. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. The sweet, almost fruity fragrance of the flowers filled him with sense of peace as his muscles gradually relaxed. “Other than calm, not much yet,” he said.
“You’re thinking too hard,” Zecora huffed. “Let it go, and just feel.”
“At the risk of sounding like a dunce, feel what, exactly? Are we talking physically, spiritually, emotionally…?”
“That's your problem. You’re still overthinking. Don’t categorize it, and don’t try to analyze it. Just sit back and let it come to you.”
“... You’re going to get mad at me, if I ask what you mean by ‘it,’ aren’t you?” Vital asked, then took another calming breath.
“What I meant isn’t important, because, again, that means you’re still putting too much thought into it,” Zecora said.
“This … may take a while,” Vital Spark warned.
It took nearly two full hours, before the Unicorn finally reached the point where his mind entered that curious state between the realms of waking and sleeping. Images, voices, and music flickered on the edges of his mind, alongside an almost childlike laughter.
‘You wish mastery,’ a girl’s tinny voice tittered.
‘Should we give it to him?’ another asked.
‘He’s different from the others, isn’t he?’ another said curiously.
‘He feeds on mana, just like the others. Who’s to say he won’t take more than he’s given?’
‘Who’s to say he will?’ An older, silkier voice echoed. ‘I think he’s worth the risk, don’t you?’
‘It … could be fun,’ one of the earlier voices acquiesced.
‘Besides, he feels nice,’ another said. ‘I like playing with those ones.’
‘Fine,’ a deep contralto responded sleepily. ‘If enough of the rest of you want to help, I’ll lend a hand.’
‘No breaking this one, though, Ivy.’
‘Would I do that?’ a sultry voice asked.
‘Ivy!’ The chastising yell reverberated in Vital’s head, and he nearly lost his concentration.
‘Fine. Spoilsports.’
‘Open wide,’ came the singsong chorus.
The sensation of dry air rushed down Vital’s throat. Something moist and sweet touched his tongue and he gulped to swallow the salivary reaction. Then he felt something tickle against his ears and he nickered in annoyance. His ears flicked as he scrunched his face in discomfort. And just like that, the connection, or whatever it was, was broken. Vital Spark opened his eyes in some surprise to see a large tendril with a white bud curved at its end. A hint of moisture dribbled down to rest against the vine as it withdrew, and Vital’s eyes widened as he noticed two other flowers retract. These ones were wide open, with their stamen extended. They seemed almost to ring as they shook, clacking against one another, before they retracted, and Vital Spark found himself screaming.
“What the buck?”
“Calm down,” Zecora said. “You’re not hurt.”
“Where else were they going to poke me?” He shuddered. “I … really don’t want to find out.”
“You’re being irrational.”
“I’m being freaked out! There’s a difference!”
“Not really.”
With some effort, Vital Spark finally managed to get himself back under control. “It’s a difference to me,” he said petulantly.
“You almost sounded convincing that time,” Zecora chuckled.
“And you sound as cruel as ever,” Vital retorted. “The least you could do is explain, instead of calling me crazy.”
“You heard them didn’t you?”
“Heard what?”
“The spirits who live here.”
“I don’t know what I heard, okay?” Vital pouted.
Zecora did her best not to smile at him. “But you did hear something.”
Vital Spark snorted angrily. “Zecora!” he whined. Then he groaned and flopped down onto his barrel, dropping his chin into the earth. “I give up.”
“Is it normal for Equestrians to give up, after taking big leaps?”
“Is it normal for Zebras to take pleasure in torturing lost souls?”
“Is it normal for Unicorns to be so dense?”
“Hey!”
“You prefer simple?” Zecora teased.
“No, I think I prefer wet.” Suddenly, a deluge dropped from above, soaking the Zebra as Vital Spark released the arc of water he’d sent up from the pond, then smirked. “Serves you right.”
Suddenly and immediately, Vital Spark found himself looking at her upside down as four vines simultaneously snaked around a leg and pulled him off the ground.
“Hey, what’re you–? Whoa!” he cried as the tendrils sent him flying into the water, causing his mane to drape down over his face. He sputtered in frustration as he pulled the now flat locks aside to glare at the Zebra.
“It’s your own fault.”
Vital stuck his tongue out at her.
“I’m surprised you haven’t clued in yet.”
“Clued in to what?” he asked as he rose to his hooves and shook himself to try to expel as much water out of his fur, mane, and tail as possible.
“I’m not telling you, if you don’t know,” she said.
Vital let out a cry of disgust. “Why do you have to be so positively infuriating?”
“Why do you have to be so dense?”
“I don’t know. Maybe it has to do with my teacher’s style,” Vital glowered.
“I’m not a bad teacher,” Zecora said with utmost confidence.
“How about completely insensitive, then?” he asked as he sloshed out of the water and back onto the grass.
“Get out.” The tone was tepid. There was no venom, no ice, and yet the anger it portrayed seemed daunting to a degree Vital wasn’t familiar with. “This is my place. I didn’t need to bring you here. I didn’t need to ask the spirits to help you. Leave now. Don’t ever come back here!”
“Fine!” Vital roared back, then galloped out of the chamber as fast as his hooves would carry him, snatching the bags with his supplies in his magic as he raced past her. “Maybe you can meditate over the fact that not all Ponies are the same as you!”
The light in the chamber seemed almost to flicker for a moment as the seed pod at the heart of the pond throbbed, dulled, then gradually resumed its radiance at a dimmer setting.
Vital Spark stomped angrily into the village later that evening. Most of the Zebras had enough sense to steer clear of the Unicorn. Those who didn’t usually kept their inquiry to one simple question: “Where is Zecora?”
Vital Spark would respond tersely and then press on. He was in no mood to deal with any other Zebras at the moment. If they suspected him of wrongdoing, so much the better. Maybe they’d finally let him leave. These and other thoughts continued to pass through his head in a whirlwind as he finally reached the chieftain’s hut and made his way towards the small annex that had been set aside for him.
“That’s a rather dark aura you’re carrying,” Mwalimu noted idly from the shadows.
“I’m not in the mood, Mwalimu,” Vital Spark growled as he levitated his packs by the reed mat. “I’ve had a long day, and I’d like to sleep it off, before I bite someone’s head off.”
“And Zecora?”
Vital snorted. “Also taking alone time.”
“Ah, that kind of day, is it?”
“With all due respect, Mwalimu, your daughter has no clue how to teach me properly. She expects me to understand every little thing she teaches, and when I don’t get it, instead of helping me to understand or leading me closer to the answer, she just dangles the fact I don’t know right in front of my face!” he fumed.
“I see.” Mwalimu turned casually to return to his work by a table as he pulled a candle made from beeswax onto the table and lit it with some flint. “Well, she must be doing something right, if you’re speaking this fluidly,” he said simply as he rolled out a piece of papyrus and began to run a piece of charcoal over it. “I’d almost say that little rant waxed eloquent.”
“Of course I’m speaking fluidly. I’m talking in Equish.”
“No, actually, you’re not,” Mwalimu said clinically as he continued to draw along the paper. “You’re speaking Zwahilli. Very efficiently, I might add. It seems your comprehension has also improved. My compliments. Though the father in me also wishes to point out that you’re acting like a little foal over whatever it is that happened between the two of you,” he added. “And if you’re this worked up, I shudder to think how badly Zecora is reacting.” He chuckled ruefully. “You know, in a way, it’s actually good to have someone like you around to challenge her way of thinking. Perhaps you’ll help each other to grow, after all.”
“I’m sorry, not to ruin your fatherly moment here, but … did you just say I’m speaking Zwahilli?”
“I’m fairly certain that’s what I said, yes.”
Vital Spark groaned and ran his hoof down his face, until it stretched, then snapped back into place as his hoof dropped off. “Damn it, Zecora,” he swore.
“I take it you just discovered the root of whatever caused your argument.”
“Let’s just go with pride and leave it at that.”
Mwalimu nodded sagely, then rose and turned to face the Unicorn. “A word of advice, Vital Spark,” he said. “Pride, anger, arrogance, rage. These kinds of emotions are sources of great power, not just to those who harbor them, but also to the more unsavory spirits of the world. Be wary of them and learn to block them from swaying your heart. That will be your first obstacle on your way to achieving balance, and possibly to unlocking the memories you lost.” Then he turned back to his desk again, casting his shadow to block the area where the Unicorn would sleep. “Rest well, young colt. Tomorrow is another day. Be ready for it.”
With his new gift of speech, Vital Spark was swift to get to know the other villagers and swifter to ask questions. One day he would be visiting with the cultivators at the fields to ask about their techniques, the next he would be dashing among the diviners to learn what he could about the practice. The Zebras were exceptionally polite, and several would laugh at his foalish exuberance for knowledge and growth. However, while the Unicorn may have continued to smile, a sense of unease pervaded the confines of the settlement, and that only served to heighten the sense of guilt as Vital Spark pondered his dilemma with Zecora.
Finally, he made his way into the familiar tent city, meandering along its paths, until he found a tent marked by several skulls, feathers, and intricate symbols. The Unicorn stomped a few times on the dusty ground, hoping that the sound would carry to the tent’s occupant.
“Do you need something?” The sentence was asked, surprisingly, in flawless Equestrian, which, now that Vital Spark had become aware of the gift he had received, had gradually become easier for him to discern between Zebrican.
“Um, well … I have a bit of a problem, and … I was wondering if I might be able to ask for some advice,” Vital said bashfully in Zwahilli.
“Come in and take a seat.”
“Thank you,” Vital sighed. He passed carefully into the tent. Its circular walls and cone-like structure gave it the sense of spaciousness that left a more inviting atmosphere. A pair of large pelts lay on the floor, one sleek and black as night, the other a bright gold with a flowing pillowy set of hairs. A series of metal chimes shaped like crosses, quartered circles, and various other symbols tinkled gently as they struck one another with clear bell-like tones. A collection of small wooden masks hung facing towards the west with grim expressions. A small fire burned in the center, where a tripod held a kettle over the coals, while the smoke ascended through a hole in the top of the structure. Vital Spark was careful to avoid getting too close to the fire, but made sure to sit close enough not to be rude to his host.
“Let us get through proper introductions before we proceed. My name is Mustafa,” the Zebra said with a slight inclination of his head. “And there is no need to ask your name, Vital Spark.” He chuckled. “The whole village knows you by now. So, my young friend, what is the nature of this problem of yours?” He’d hung his headdress on a hook that was suspended from a rope attached to the tent’s roof, so Vital could see the aged diviner’s shaved mane, leaving only tiny bristles poking above his normal fur length. Two identical scars traced his jawline on either side of his head, and the fur under his eyes had been colored with several stripes of red and green dye.
“I … kind of freaked out with Zecora, and we both said some things we shouldn’t have. I think I want to apologize, but at the same time, I’m still so upset over what happened, and … I guess I feel sort of ashamed, too.” He averted his gaze and rubbed his foreleg nervously. “We … didn’t part on the best terms.”
“Ah, yes,” Mustafa laughed. “That girl. So much pressure at such a young age. It causes her to lash out at those around her. It has made her unpopular with some.” He chuckled to himself. “Table! Table, get over here!” he called suddenly. After a few long moments where Vital questioned the diviner’s sanity, a large tortoise began to crawl in slowly from one of the tent folds. Its shell had been painted with many long flowing swirling designs of all kinds of colors. The reptile seemed to smile smugly at Mustafa as it made its way over at a calm, gentle pace. “Come on, Table. If you do not hurry, the water will be steam, and then where will I be?”
The tortoise merely snapped its beak at him a few times.
“You have a pet named Table?” Vital asked.
“At my age, it is far easier to have a table that comes to you, rather then one you must go to,” Mustafa chuckled. As the tortoise finally came within a hoof’s reach, the aged Zebra produced a few clay bowls, which he placed some crushed herbs into, then poured out the water into each one. The tortoise was completely unphased by the heat and simply laid contentedly between them. “He is slow, but reliable, and he will tell my story long after the Mother calls me back.”
“The Mother?” Vital enquired as he raised his bowl and blew over the water’s surface.
“The Great Mother, mother to Zebras, mother to the great ones themselves, Mother Gaia. Take your pick,” Mustafa said. “It is from her womb that life comes, and it is to her bosom we go, when life must come to an end.”
“Gaia….” Vital Spark frowned. “I’ve heard that name … somewhere….”
“I’m not surprised.” Mustafa laughed. “It was Gaia who took Zebras in, when the First Mother, the one Equestrians call Faust, left us, for the spark of magic did not take with us. Gaia found us and took us into her embrace. It was she who birthed the Great Ones, the Titans who taught us about the world, about how to commune with the spirits of nature, and thus develop a magic of our own. Though many Zebras forget her in this time, we owe her everything.”
“That’s … a pretty big debt.”
“Most races have their own debt,” Mustafa chuckled. “The Gryphons have their Winds, the Minotaurs have their Giants. I’ve heard even the Dragons have one who took them in, after they were too hot-blooded.”
“I see.” Vital sighed then as he took a tiny sip from the cup. “Am I … supposed to taste something different from water?” he asked.
“It was supposed to be tea, but most would wait a while, before drinking, to let the flavor sink in,” Mustafa laughed.
“Tea. Interesting.” He lowered the bowl back onto the tortoise’s back. “Does it taste any good?”
“Usually, if given proper time. Now tell me everything,” Mustafa said. “Leave no detail out, unless vitaly necessary.”
“Pun not intended?”
“Of course.”
Vital outlined the situation as best he could, being careful to remove all reference or trace of the special place Zecora had shown him. It was the least he could do for her. Revealing that special spot would have just made him a jerk. “And that’s when I left and ran back to the village. I didn’t even know I was speaking Zebrican, till I talked to Mwalimu, and he told me.”
“So, it seems she took her joke a little far,” Mustafa nodded, taking a drink of tea. “And you let your temper get the better of you.”
“Yeah, that about sums it up,” Vital sighed dejectedly as he took a sip of the tea. The herbs left it with an aromatic quality that hinted at citrus and earthiness, but the flavor left him scrunching his face slightly.
“And what is your first inclination in this matter?”
“I want to apologize, to set things right.” Vital sighed as the warmth from the tea flooded back up his throat. “I just don’t know how.”
“It isn’t some guarded secret, my friend. You apologize.”
“Yeah, but this is Zecora. Every time I try talking to her, I feel … well, I feel like there’s a wall. And for a few seconds, I broke through that wall, but then I got tossed out, after I made a mistake, and now the wall’s even stronger.” He sighed and looked dejectedly into his bowl of tea. “I don’t know if she’d even be willing to listen.”
“My friend, in my many years, I have learned there is no battle in which both sides do not walk away injured. I am certain she feels as badly as you do right now. I admit she may not be willing to listen immediately, but if her friendship truly means anything to you, then you will find the time.”
“Do you … really think we could be? Friends, I mean.”
“I think, if you are willing to try,” Mustafa smiled, “then you will find the means.”
“So, I just need to keep trying?”
Mustafa nodded. “Are you willing to do so?”
“I don’t know,” Vital answered honestly, “but … at least one shot can’t hurt any more than what I’ve been dealing with, right?”
“Keep that outlook. It will serve you well.” Mustafa laughed. “And just an interesting secret between the two of us, I know for a fact that Zecora is partial to the candied berries the mare three stalls down makes.”
Vital Spark smiled. “Thank you so much for your help.” He chuckled as he wiped away at tears that had started to form. “You know, it’s funny. I just felt like I had to come out here, you know?”
“The spirits are wise. They often know how to nudge us in just the right direction.” He smiled in return.
“May I … visit here again some time? Something about your company is … familiar to me.”
“You are welcome through my door anytime,” Mustafa smiled.
Vital rose and walked over to the older Zebra, then gave him a short embrace. “Thank you, Mustafa.”
“Go in peace, my friend, and may the spirits guide you to mending your situation.”
“Amen,” Vital agreed. He paused briefly, tapped his chin. “Amen. Hmm. I don’t think I’ve heard that around here before….” He shrugged, then made his way out the tent flap, leaving Mustafa to finish his tea with his table.
“Oh, my friend, if only you knew the importance of things to come,” the diviner laughed to himself. “I only wish I could be around to see it all.”
Days turned to weeks, and weeks into months as Vital Spark was slowly initiated into the ways of the spirits. The council of chieftains had come and gone, leaving Vital Spark in the dark, once again, as he pushed on in his training. All he knew for certain was that the time was fast approaching for a representative to come to the village, and when this representative arrived, he would have to leave the place that had, for all intents and purposes, become his home. He sighed as he sat on the ground next to his teacher. The river burbled along its way, casting a relieving sense of peace as the pair concentrated on their respective trances.
Every once in a while, a flicker of some other structure would flit past his mind’s eye, this one spewing water out of a Pony’s mouth to land inside a large stone basin. He could almost hear children’s laughter, excited voices calling his name. And finally, that strange mare with the blue fur and the piercing eyes. They haunted him everywhere he went, even when he tried to push them aside.
“You are troubled,” Zecora’s placid tone carried through the air.
“I’m leaving soon. Mkuta, Mwalimu, Mustafa, … you. It’s … strange. I wanted to leave this place, after a little while of staying, but now that the time is actually coming to do so, I don’t want to go. All of you, this place. It’s … well, if I’m really being honest, it’s home now.”
“And the spirits? What do they say?”
Vital sighed. “I think you know that only too well.”
“I know, but I’m asking you.”
Vital opened his eyes to see that familiar curve at the edge of her lips that hinted at the teasing smirk beaming within. “A final test, eh?”
“What do they say?” the smile became slightly more prominent.
Vital’s own lips twitched as they pulled into a smile to match the Zebra’s. “That you want to play.”
“The usual game?”
“It’s always the same,” she affirmed.
“First to stumble the rhyme gets wet this time.” Vital grinned unsettlingly at her.
“Are you truly inane or simply insane?” Zecora twirled her staff and entered into a crouched stance. “My skills are unsurpassed in this game.”
Vital circled the Zebra, like a shark its prey. “So, we’re fudging the rhymes to draw this one out.” He levitated a series of large rocks and spun them slowly around his body in a gentle orbit. “I’ll show you what true mastery’s all about!”
Zecora leapt easily out of the way as the stones began to fire on either side of her. They’d learned a long time ago to keep their sparring non-lethal, but it was fun to keep each other on their toes as they danced back and forth.
“Mastery is no easy feat. By the time we’re done, I’ll have you beat,” Zecora crowed as she slammed one of the stones with her staff. The wood bent briefly, and then the rock went flying back towards the Unicorn. He quickly raised another rock to counter the force and protect his face.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, now that’s just not fair. Face shots aren’t allowed anywhere,” he chided, shaking his head back and forth.
“Apologies for the misfired shot. I don’t exactly hit rocks a lot.”
Their battle was a rhyme-off for the ages, evolving from single couplets to full-on stanzas of prose firing back and forth with clipped rhythm and pace. However, at long last, Zecora pulled out with a slim victory, managing to get in close to tickle her foe, leaving him doubled over in laughter as the two rolled together, until they both fell into the ford of the river.
“How do you always manage to come out on top of things, Zecora?” Vital asked as the two revelled in the cool water washing over their warm, dusty fur.
“Magic,” Zecora replied cheekily.
“Just for that, I might just choose to eat all these candied berries myself,” Vital said as he hefted a pouch from his pack suggestively in his magic.
In a matter of seconds, Zecora was there, popping the berries out of the bag and into her mouth. A few pale blue specks danced around her hooves from the power she’d unleashed to augment her speed. “You were saying?”
“Now that’s just not fair,” Vital Spark chided as he walked up to her. A good ten or so berries levitated out of the pouch to orbit around his head. “At least save enough for me.”
“You’ll have plenty more, where you’re going. Or have you forgotten that you’ll be visiting the jungle already?”
“That’ll be one of the last stops, though,” Vital pointed out. “And I’ll be focusing on learning how to grow the crops, not on eating them.” He shook his coat to spatter the ground with leftover droplets.
“And you can’t do a little of both?” Zecora asked. “The jungle is far more lush than the savannah, you know.”
“Fair point,” Vital Spark conceded.
“Naturally. As you said. I always come out on top.”
Vital Spark laughed. “And the day you don’t, I’ll be there to bail you out. How does that sound?”
Zecora tapped her chin thoughtfully as she looked out over the sparkling waters. “I suppose you could at least give a good distraction.”
“Your words, so cruel,” Vital cried dramatically. “They cut me to the quick. Perhaps ‘tis better that I drown my sorrows now, than nurse so deep a wound.”
That earned the Unicorn a sharp knock on the head. “Don’t go turning into a pompous windbag on me. There’s enough of those to deal with at the trading posts as is.”
Vital smirked. “Just honing my craft, Zecora,” he assured her.
“Oh? And what craft is that?”
“I thought it was the role of all brothers to annoy their sisters to no end.”
That gave Zecora pause. “Brother?”
“Well, what else do you call it? We fight and make up on a semi-daily basis, you’re constantly teaching me new tricks and keeping me out of danger, and I’m always the one to call you out when you’re being overbearing and not willing to admit it. I’d say that sits rather firmly in the little brother territory, wouldn’t you?”
“I … never thought about it that way before.”
“It only just hit me a few minutes ago, truth be told. Is it … okay? Looking at you that way, I mean.”
Zecora stared silently at the river as she contemplated the question. Finally, she spoke. “I … never had a brother before. I never really had anybody before, well, aside from Father. Everyone else was always so … distant. I always feel like they’re judging me, watching every little thing I do.”
“Probably because they are, in case you have a potential meltdown that only I seem capable of triggering,” Vital said with a wicked grin.
Zecora promptly shoved Vital Spark into the river again. “You’re certainly annoying enough,” she growled.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” Vital said as he strode out of the stream, then shook his fur and mane again. “Which means I can do this.” His horn ignited, locking Zecora in place as he approached, then wrapped his forelegs around her neck in a hug, before letting go. “Sorry for freezing you like that, but I really wanted to hug you, before I go, and I knew you’d try to run with my fur all wet.”
“You big jerk,” Zecora said halfheartedly.
“With an even bigger heart,” Vital added as he levitated the bag of berries. “Care for another?”
Zecora chuckled helplessly. “What am I going to do with you, Vital Spark?”
“Why, I thought that was obvious. Love me, of course.”
“You promise you’ll come back to us again?” Zecora asked as they gathered at the village’s edge, where a mare in a shimmering white shift with green feathers woven into braids formed from her mane
“And miss the chance to knock you down a few pegs? Never,” Vital said with a wink.
“Last I checked, I held the current title,” Zecora said haughtily.
“All the more reason for me to return and take it from you, then, isn’t it?” Vital said as he grinned impishly. His face had been decorated in tribal paint, a symbol of his progress in the village and his shamanistic training. “If something does go wrong, though, you’d better send for me.”
“Afraid I can’t handle myself?”
“More for what you’ll do to anyone that crosses you,” Vital chuckled.
“You’ve done well in your short time with us, Vital Spark,” Mwalimu congratulated. “There is still more yet to see and do, but I am confident you have the makings of a fine shaman.” He pulled out a necklace from his satchel, made from carefully carved and polished pieces of black wood shaped like teeth. Each had been embedded with a small heart-shaped ruby. “Take this as a token of our support and our love. Whenever you feel discouraged, look upon it, and think of us.” He smiled as he placed it around the Unicorn’s neck. “We’ll see you soon enough. Until then, be safe. Zecora would never forgive me, if something were to happen to you.”
“And I’d never forgive her, if she laid a single hoof on any of you,” Vital teased as tears stood in his eyes. He double-checked the security of his satchel and the water skin against his side, then bowed respectfully to Mwalimu. “Until we meet again, Chief.”
“Spirits go with you, child,” Mwalimu returned softly.
“I’ll try not to drive them away.”
Mwalimu chuckled. “You do that.”
“Is Mustafa coming?”
Mwalimu frowned and shook his head. “I’m afraid not. It’s getting harder to rouse him from his bed. I wouldn’t be surprised if the earth called him home in the next few moons.”
“Oh, I … I see.”
Mwalimu laid a hoof on the stallion’s shoulder. “He sends his blessing, though, and insists that you show those warriors among the fighters what a little wisdom has to offer, when tempering brute force.”
Vital chuckled. “That’s Mustafa, all right.” He looked between the old chieftain and his daughter, anxiety written plainly on his face. “You’ll take care of him, won’t you?”
“You have our word.”
The Unicorn nodded. “Thank you.”
“Be careful, Vital Spark. And listen closely to what Mbegu ya Hekima has to say.”
“Just Hekima,” the mare insisted. “It’s far too wordy the other way around.”
Vital smiled gently at the mare’s kindly demeanor. Perhaps they would be able to get along well, after all.
The journey was hot and dusty, as was to be expected in the savannah. After all the time spent training under the hot Zebrican sun, Vital Spark had come to appreciate and respect the silence that the Zebras maintained so often. It wasn’t that they weren’t willing to talk, so much as the heat required them to keep their exchanges to the shortest and most meaningful sentences, save when a proper water source was near. A wry smile pulled at his lips, and he couldn’t help but wonder if he had been so reserved in his past life or if this would be considered a marked improvement.
By night, the pair would set up their camp and meditate, giving silent thanks for another successful day’s travel without obstruction or difficulty. In time, they came to a river, where a small boat crafted from fine cedar wood lay bobbing in the shallows.
“We’ll use this to travel to the coast. From there, we will follow the caravan route down to the jungle,” the mare instructed.
Vital Spark nodded. “I can’t help but wonder something, though. I get that a lot of the herbs and roots you use grow in the jungle, but if you really do teach about growing all kinds of plants, herbs, etc., then wouldn’t you need two villages, one for the tropical and one for the arid?”
“An excellent question. I appreciate a mind that thinks ahead.” She smiled as they entered the boat and she cast them off into the current. “You are correct. There are two separate villages that we’ve established. We switch the students between them as they learn how to tend and cultivate the herbs, fruit trees, vegetables, etc. that are necessary in both environments. We then export these goods, after proper distribution among the tribes. Many of your Equestrian nobles and troops enjoy the unique crops that Zebrica alone can offer, among other resources we trade on occasion.”
“Such as?”
“Those gems embedded into your necklace, for a start,” she said as she tapped one of the teeth. “They’re called fire rubies, a rarity in Equestria, but they’re quite common here. Those are very young gems, not worth much to most of your kind, but for a Unicorn to gain a fully ripened one, it would make an exceptionally powerful focus.”
“A … focus.” Vital furrowed his brow in concentration. “That’s … the core piece of a weapon or armor enchanted to channel and store mystical energy.”
“So, you do have knowledge of your kind’s arts, after all.”
Vital rubbed his head and groaned as he flipped up some water from the river to splash his face. “I guess the theory, at least. It hurts to try to think about it, though.”
“Then it is likely best not to think about it. If the memory is sealed, it’s sealed for a reason. Better to let nature take its course.”
“So, you said we’d be stopping by a trading post?” Vital asked, quickly changing the subject. He sighed in relief as the tension eased in his skull.
“Near the inlet to the sea,” the mare agreed. “Nobles and other richer Ponies from your nation come to barter for our goods, and occasionally for … I believe the word is vacation.”
“So, for pleasure?”
“Some. Others have less honorable motives.” Hekima reached into the floor of the boat and pulled out a long pole, which she stabbed into the water to keep the craft on course. “Be careful, if you encounter them, Vital Spark. Equestrians can be very devious, when they wish to be. Make sure to watch what you say.”
Vital Spark swallowed heavily, then nodded his understanding. “I’ll try. But … what do I say, if they want to talk to me? I can’t just ignore them.”
Hekima shrugged. “It is your choice what you can and cannot do. All I can do is offer my advice. You have heard it. Now you must decide how to act upon it.”
And with that, the silence returned once again as the two travelers were lost in their own thoughts.
The land gradually became more lush as they drew closer to the sea. Eucalyptus and fig trees filled the air with their fragrance, while great palms stretched up into the sky to sway in the sea breeze blowing over the mainland. Great prickly-leaved bushels of bushes clambered over fallen rocks, while a forest of reeds and long silky green fronds sprung up on either side.
“This is incredible,” Vital marveled.
Hekima couldn’t help but smile at the colt’s enthusiasm. “If you think this is something, wait until we reach the trading post.”
In due course, they passed around the bend to behold the sun glittering off the water, so that the great delta was surrounded by gold. Boats great and small bustled around a series of docks and bridges, ferrying cargo and various Ponies and Zebras. The air was alive with the sounds of bickering traders and flapping wings. A series of sturdy wooden cabins rose out of the earth as workponies and Zebras passed interminably through the roughly worn tracks that passed as streets. Off in the distance, a series of brightly colored structures stuck up out of the landscape, like a sore thumb, each flying a strange banner showing two figures circling around something. It was too difficult to make out from that distance.
Hekima poled them over to a thicker patch of reeds and pushed them through to a shallow bank, where they disembarked. “Welcome to the western trading post, the hub of all trade between Equestria and Zebrica.”
The two moved easily among the hustle and bustle, until they reached the outskirts of the post, where a series of tents had been set up to house the many pots and earthenware jars that held herbs, spices, and various other crops. A peek into one tent revealed a series of polished stones waiting to be appraised and exchanged. However, one loud throat clearing from Hekima quickly pulled Vital Spark back out and on task.
Eventually, they arrived at the far point, where a cluster of hearty Zebra stallions were unloading their packs of goods, while the mares made their way to the river with their water skins to refill for their eventual return journey. A tall Zebra with a dead eye and a nasty glare peered meticulously over the goods, then nodded to a pair of younger stallions, who promptly picked up the merchandise and sorted it into the tents. Their bearing made it only too clear that they were warriors.
“Kisasi,” Hekima greeted warmly. “What are you doing here? I thought you were supposed to be training the newest warriors back in Vita.”
“A change of plans, my friend,” he replied. “What brings you out this way?”
“This colt here,” she said, waving over to Vital Spark. “The council of chiefs insists he receive a thorough education. We’ve just come from the Moyo Wa Roho. He’s expected to arrive at Vita in a few months from now.”
“If that is what the council wants, then I will honor their wishes,” he replied, turning his attention to Vital Spark. “Though, they did not give me much to work with, it seems.”
Vital Spark gulped and chuckled nervously. “Um, hello,” he said somewhat weakly.
“I can tell our time is going to be quite lengthy.”
Vital Spark gulped again.
“Easy, Kisasi. It’s not time for him to learn to fight just yet.” She smiled playfully. “How long, until the return caravan departs?”
“At worst, two days. At best, tomorrow.”
“And the shipment of potions, compost, and sugar?”
“Should be ready to go within the hour.”
“You always did know how to run a tight outfit.” She smiled then. “What do you say to letting one of your young warriors get some real life experience?” she asked, looking meaningfully towards the Unicorn. “Vital Spark seems rather taken with the post. Do you think any of the colts are up to guiding him around?”
“I suppose there is one that comes to mind,” he replied, rubbing his chin. “Waangalifu, front and center!”
One of the pots nearly shattered as a stout and heavily muscled Zebra fumbled with it. Were it not for Vital Spark’s quick action with his magic, the contents would have been wasted, along with the pottery. Waangalifu smiled sheepishly, then quickly made his way over to his commander, while Vital Spark levitated the pot to join its fellows in a stack outside one of the tents.
“You called, Sir?” Waangalifu asked. A sharp-headed spear lay strapped along his back atop a shield made from heavily tanned hide.
“You are to give this colt a tour of the post,” Kisasi ordered, gesturing towards Vital. “Show him the ins and outs, without needless delay. Understood?”
“Yes, Sir,” Kisasi nodded eagerly, then turned to the Unicorn with a flat expression. “You, with me,” he said curtly.
“Um … yeah, sure,” Vital said timidly as he followed behind. Surprisingly enough, this Zebra’s mane had grown to the point where it draped slightly over his forehead. A brief bout of dizziness left the Pony seeing a bright red coat on the stallion, instead of the usual black and white. He stopped a moment and shook his head to clear it.
“Are you coming, or are you just going to stand there all day?”
“C-coming!” Vital stuttered and quickly picked up his pace to catch up with the young warrior.
“How long do you wager, until one of them gets into trouble?” Hekima asked.
Kisasi smirked. “Fifteen minutes.”
Vital Spark gaped at they passed by the many stalls filled to the brim with produce and treats. The fresh scent of a cooking fire left the Pony’s stomach rumbling with need. He chuckled nervously at the sound. “Sorry about that. I haven’t had much to eat today.”
“I suppose that makes sense, given your travel rations,” Waangalifu noted. “Was there anything in particular you were in the mood for?”
“Well, there is one thing I always wanted to try, but I don’t think we’ll find all the ingredients here.”
“And why is that?”
Vital smiled sheepishly. “It’s a little hard to find meat in a place filled with herbivores.”
“Meat?”
“My body needs meat as much as it does grains, fruits, or vegetables.” He shrugged. “I don’t know why, but it does. It actually tastes really good, if you crush some fruits together into a pulp, then add some sugar and water to the mixture and let it boil down. Then you just dip the meat into it. So far, I’ve namely used fish, but I would assume other forms of meat would taste just as good with it. It’s especially tasty, if you soak the meat in it, so it can absorb the flavor, then cook it over a fire for a crisp outer crust.
Waangalifu shuddered.
“Oh, would you relax? I know Zebras believe in the balance of life and the importance of preserving it. My life would be in peril, if I didn’t eat meat. That doesn’t mean I’m going to turn around and start slaughtering every creature I see for a meal. What do you take me for, some kind of monster?”
“Well, I’m afraid we don’t get much in the way of fish down here, except the kind some of the richer visitors use as bait, and they usually fish for themselves, before arriving on shore.”
“Bait for what?”
“Sport,” Waangalifu said flatly.
“I’m … afraid I don’t understand.”
“They hire guides to help them hunt after the larger creatures that dwell here on the savannah and in the jungles. The meat proves for an apt lure, so they can draw in their future ‘trophies.’”
“So, they kill just for the sake of killing?”
“Unfortunately.”
“That’s horrible!”
“Yes, I know. But there are those who are willing to do anything for a chance to leave these shores and never return. We don’t speak with those.”
“... Those?”
“Exiles, the banished, the forsaken. Take your pick.” He glared at the Unicorn. “If you really need the meat, then we’ll see what kind of deal can be struck, but only to get what you need, nothing more.”
Vital gulped and nodded. “I understand.”
“Good. This way,” the Zebra said curtly as he led the Unicorn through the crowds.
The wharfs weren’t much to look at, mostly a long set of log rafts tied together to extend out into the ocean from the shallows to reach the larger boats that sat bobbing in the water. A single fishing net twitched and bulged on the port side, holding the bounty that the two companions sought. The vessel itself was vast in its construction, painted a pale blue with bright white railings and a white bottom that glowed under the sun. The occasional glyph would spark in the light, betraying the magical nature of the seam and belly of the vessel. Its sails were tied neatly into place as the various sea salts passed back and forth along the deck, burly Pegasi and Earth Ponies, each working heartily as they cleaned the deck and maintained the rest of the ship’s parts.
“Whoa. This thing is huge,” Vital marveled as he stared up at the deck.
“Yes, and a place where we are not generally appreciated, unless helping to port supplies,” Waangalifu warned. “We should find whoever is in charge as quickly as possible, before–.”
“If you don’t mind, could you please stop standing in the middle of the docks gaping about and get back to work?” a nasally condescending voice spoke up. “This isn’t the place to be sitting around talking all day. Honestly, where is your foreman?”
The pair turned in some surprise to see a Unicorn with a dark blue coat bedecked with a white-and-gold vest accented by hints of green. His silvery mane shone glossily in the sun as he stared at the two with beady yellow eyes. Those eyes soon widened, however, as they took note of one of the supposed worker’s horn and necklace.
“Um, sorry,” Vital Spark began in Equish. “We didn’t mean to get in your way. I was just wondering if I could have a word with whoever is in charge of that fishing net over there,” he said, pointing to the net in question. “I need to get ahold of a few fish, and I was wondering if we might be able to trade for them.” He smiled somewhat nervously at the flashy stallion, while Waangalifu glared angrily at the figure behind the noble.
“Well just hurry up and finish your business,” the noble sneered.
“Might you be able to direct us to the proper authority? I only just arrived here from the mountains, and it’s my first time, you see.”
“You can probably find them in the Blue Shellfish.” The noble rolled his eyes.
“The what now?”
“The tavern.” He rolled his eyes again. “What, have you been living under a rock for most of your life?”
“Actually, I … kind of don’t know. I woke up in a cave, and some Zebras were kind enough to nurse me back to health. Only thing they couldn’t cure was my memory loss.”
“Head down that road. You’ll find a large sign hanging from the building. It’s written in Equish and Zebrican, so even if you can’t read it, your … associate should be more than capable.”
“Thank you.” Vital smiled at him, then walked back down the pier. “Come on, Waangalifu. Let’s give the Pony some space,” he said in Zwahili. When they’d gotten out of earshot, he muttered to his companion. “Jerk.”
“You were warned about that, weren’t you?”
Vital sighed. “Yeah. I just didn’t think it would be that bad.”
“Compared to the usual, that was cordial.”
“Is that so?” Vital narrowed his gaze. “In that case, I suppose we may have to speak in a language they’ll understand.”
“What did you have in mind?”
“Whatever you see in there, whatever I do, just know that’s not really me,” Vital Spark said simply.
“For some reason, I feel both excited and terrified.”
Vital grinned, baring his sharpened canines to the world. “Good. That’s how it should be.”
The Blue Shellfish was a simple structure with a grand arching wooden sign carved with great painted white letters over the dark varnished background. The wooden boards had been painted a pale blue, and bits of mother of pearl had been carefully glued to the base of the establishment, rising from the porch to reach about halfway up the wall. Bits of net and dried seaweed hung artistically at varying points to add to the impression of the sea. A pair of swinging doors creaked noticeably as Vital Spark entered, followed shortly by his companion.
“Good afternoon,” he said loftily as he strode over towards the bar. “Which of you gentleponies happens to own that ship moored in the harbor? I’ve a busy day ahead of me, and I don’t have time for idle chit chat.”
A Unicorn in a light green shirt decorated with tassels and old medals clenched a pipe between his teeth, puffing on it occasionally as he sized the Pony up. “Who wants to know?” he growled out. “I got a ship to get ready to return to Equestria. I ain’t got time talking to lost foals.” An old worn white cap sat on his head. Its bill sat smartly propped up by his horn to reveal the flowing brown mane beneath it.
“The squirming net at the side of your vessel says otherwise, Captain,” Vital said disdainfully. “I’m looking to purchase some of your bait, and I’m willing to pay in gems. If you’re going to treat every potential customer so rudely, however, then I’ll take my business elsewhere. My porter here is more than adept enough to locate other means to attract my prey.”
“So, … you’re a hunter, eh?” the captain muttered. “Way you’re dressed, I thought you’d be some youngin’ protesting the trade.” He snorted. “I suppose I could see my way to give you some of our bait, but it’ll cost you extra. Most of that haul is already reserved by the rest of the hunting party here.” He tapped a hoof on the table as he looked pensively toward the bar. “A pound of fish will cost you ten rubies.”
“Ten? Please. I could buy that much in Equestria for a tenth that price.”
“You really must be out of sorts, colt. The world’s going to Tartarus. I lost two friends to raiders, and there are whispers of Gryphons flexing their damn flying machines. The coastlines are dangerous. And one other thing: we’re in Zebrica. There’s not much demand for fish, unless you’re some Night Unicorn or something.”
“Not much use for it, either, if you can’t preserve it to take with you,” Vital countered. “Twenty pounds of salt should be more than a fair trade for oh, say, twenty fish?”
“You have that much?” the captain asked. “Did they come from your tears, little lost colt?” he asked snidely.
“Oh, no. I harvest them from the virgins I capture for my dark rituals,” Vital said as he rolled his eyes heavily through his sarcasm. “Unlike you, simpleton, I actually know how to put my magic to a more practical use. Make the deal, and I can have your salt to you by sundown.”
“If you bring the salt, you’ll get your twenty fish,” the captain replied as a small twitch of a smile pulled at the edges of his muzzle. “But show up past sundown and it’ll be five fish for the lot.”
“You have yourself a deal, captain.” Vital Spark looked haughtily at the other patrons. “Come along, Waangalifu,” he said. The Zebra bowed his head obsequiously. Vital paused midway towards the doors, however, and turned once again. “And I’d better not encounter any random muggers along the way, Captain. Otherwise, I’ll be adding insurance fees to my delivery, and the cost will be quite hefty, indeed.”
“I would never do something like that, colt. Not to somepony so very much out of his league.”
“Would you care to have a wager, Captain?” Vital asked. “To make it more interesting. It seems only fair, since you plan to cut my proceeds down to a mere quarter, should I fail.”
“What is it?” the captain asked with a snide smirk.
“A place with the rest of your fine party at this evening’s dinner. Surely, it shouldn’t inconvenience a stallion of such means to have one more guest. I’m certain the stallions would only be too happy to exchange the stories of our exploits with one another.” He casually tossed his mane in the air, allowing the sun to glint off the fire rubies embedded in his necklace.
The stallion paused and a small twitch of a lip was his only tell as he slowly nodded his head. “I think I can have something arranged. A most interesting prospect, Mister….”
“Spark. Vital Spark,” the Pony responded.
“I look forward to seeing you again, Mister Spark,” the captain sneered.
“And I all of you. M’lords, m’ladies,” he said as he nodded courteously to each of the tables. “Until tonight.” With that, he left, followed soon after by his guard.
“And just how were you planning on getting that much salt in so little time?” Waangalifu demanded. “You realize Hekima will have both our hides for this.”
“It was the fastest way to get what I need for the journey,” Vital said with a shrug. “All I need are a couple of large sacks. The rest, you can leave to me.”
“How?”
“I wasn’t bluffing, when I mentioned a practical application for my magic.” Vital’s eyes twinkled merrily. “The sea has more than fish for its bounties.”
The dinner that evening was a spread of rich greens with tomatoes, peppers, sugar snap peas, croutons, and three daisies artfully laid on top for presentation. A citrus vinaigrette complimented the sweetness of the vegetables with the tartness of the fruit. Afterwards, wine was served with a second course of bean salad tossed with corn, apples, oats, and a sweet syrup made from honey. Fresh bread steamed as it was cracked open and slathered liberally with butter.
“And so it was that I managed to double my kill with a single strike,” Vital Spark said, finishing his dramatic tale. A round of applause echoed from the great pavillion that had been set up in the center of the encampment as the Pony raised a slice of bread in his horn’s magic and took a bite.
“Incredible, one of the mares exclaimed. A long beaded black dress shimmered in the torchlight as she mulled over her wine. “I’m curious, is that how you got your necklace there? I always thought most Zebras were untrusting.”
“It was a gift from one of the chiefs living near the great mountain. Surely, you’ve seen it in your hunts. The thing is too large to miss.” Vital Spark shrugged. “The necklace grants me a certain amount of influence and trust among the other tribes, so I wear it during my stays here.”
“And do you have a home in Equestria?”
Vital Spark shrugged. “I go where I am needed. I have a certain amount of rapport with some higher ranked families, but I prefer to leave the politics to those who are bred for it and teach their young what they need to hunt on their own someday.”
“A teacher, a huntsman, and a local hero. Now that is impressive,” the lady said. “There wouldn’t be any chance that you could maybe give us a tour of this mountain, would there?”
“Regrettably, no, Lady Carmine. The Zebras hold it sacred. Only their shamans may set foot on it, and even then, only rarely.”
“A pity,” Carmine mused to herself. “To visit an unspoiled place like that must be a rich experience, indeed.”
“It is said that they praise the mountain for their prosperity, or so I have heard,” Vital said with a shrug. “I never bothered to ask.”
“I see. And where are you bound for next?”
“I’ll be following the next caravan to the jungle. I’m getting tired of the game on the savannah.” He shrugged. “The jungle provides more of a challenge.”
“Then I wish you well in your endeavors.” She rose from her chair, after dabbing her face with a napkin. “If you’ll excuse me, I believe it’s about time to retire. We have an early morning tomorrow, after all.”
Vital Spark smiled, following her example. “I should go as well. Waangalifu is doubtless worried about his pay by now, after porting those supplies.” He offered a brief salute to the captain. “It was a pleasure doing business with you, Sir Helmut. Good night, m’lords, m’ladies.” The Unicorn allowed himself a brief smirk at the sense of ill intent glaring into his back. For some reason, outdoing the noble had given him a unique sense of pleasure. For the briefest moment, the image of a black bird with swirling blue eyes and a mischievous smirk on its beak flashed through his mind’s eye. The face seemed … familiar to him. He frowned as he walked out into the twilight. He would definitely need to meditate on this.
The journey to the twin villages proved a simple endeavor. There were no creatures or assailants to fear, and an escort had been provided by a group of Kisasi’s troops. Vital Spark made good use of his rations and the fish, which he preserved using some extra salt he’d extracted from the ocean, before they left. Once they arrived at the settlements, it was a simple matter to supplement his need for protein with various bean crops interspersed with the fish. When that wasn’t enough, one of the warriors would escort him to a river in the jungle, where Vital Spark used his magic to harvest, once again. These fish had much sharper teeth, but they were lean and flavorful, with thicker bones to avoid the possibility of swallowing by accident.
For the next few months, the Unicorn found himself put to the test on any number of occasions. Remarkably, there were some herbs that he actually did recognize. However, more often than not, he required extra instruction to memorize the plants and what combinations to utilize them in. This led to all number of possible outcomes, including powders to induce paralysis, serums to induce truth and sleep, concoctions to bring on fearful hallucinations. They also taught him the cures for each of these offensive applications and the means to produce a variety of healing salves, fever and pain reducers, and many more. It seemed the combined resources of the villages had enough roots, leaves, buds, and stems to heal just about any ailment, save for aging.
However, fascinating though the Unicorn found this branch of his education, the time inevitably came for his departure and the final leg of his pilgrimage. Naturally, it was a portion he was not looking forward to. With a fond farewell to Hekima, the colt turned to follow his escort to the northeast, where the third and most violent of the training grounds awaited. Were it not for the lucky inclusion of Waangalifu among his guides, the young Unicorn may have died of anxiety.
The journey was long, and the warriors didn’t leave much time to sleep. The first week of travel was exceptionally rough on the Unicorn, especially given how long his mane had grown over the course of his time at the jungle. It finally reached the point where he asked one of the warriors if he could borrow his spear for a moment. In a matter of seconds, the Pony had reduced his mane to a rough and exceptionally short golden mohawk. He bore the snickers surprisingly well, all things considered, though he still shot the occasional dirty glance when he caught them in the act.
Vital looked longingly at the sacred mountain as they passed it, but said nothing as they continued on. He knew he had to receive training. He didn’t know why, but he did, and that was enough for now. The promise he’d made to Zecora to return drove him forward. In due course, a new landmass reared up on the horizon. For a time, Vital Spark thought it might be the sea, but as they drew closer, the dark line rose taller, becoming more and more distinct, until Vital watched with wide eyes as the imposing edifice’s shadow stretched long across the land at sunset.
“What is that?” he breathed in awe.
“That is the Ukata Mkubwa, the great divider between our lands and the stampede grounds of the Minotaurs to the north. That natural formation has divided our peoples for millennia, keeping us safe from them and vice versa. Occasionally, some small party of shamans is allowed passage, should their trek be justified, but those who seek to force their way through must face a brutal climb or a wall that regenerates almost constantly,” Waangalifu explained. “It is said that the very land itself erupted into the face we see today as a response to the constant fighting.”
“And what was the fighting about?”
“Two things: control and pride. Both sides wanted control of the spring that laid at the top of the sacred mountain, to set themselves apart as the chosen of the Earth Mother, and to claim the lifegiving powers the waters provided. The land was bathed in blood from both sides. It … wasn’t a proud moment in our history. Finally, one day, the spirits and the earth itself said enough. The earthquake that arose shook our continent and our peoples to their very cores, resulting in the birth of the Ukata Mkubwa. From that moment on, both nations left to lick their wounds and tend to their respective needs. It was a hard few years for both sides as we worked to rebuild. By sheer luck, we Zebras were allowed stewardship over the spring, but it was a hollow victory. We take the duty seriously, and over the years, a delegation was formed with the guardians of the spring’s outlet on the other side of the wall. We now share a measure of peace, but it’s a fragile one.”
“So that’s why you placed the training village so close to the wall, so you have a first response, in case of a successful invasion.”
“And why the bulk of our food and supplies are located far to the southwest. In the event that we should fail, the Minotaurs will have to travel across hundreds and thousands of miles without food or water, unless they bring it over themselves.”
“Clever,” Vital Spark said.
“The spirits arranged our land’s climate that way for a reason.” Waangalifu shrugged.
“So, uh … if you don’t mind my asking,” Vital said somewhat nervously, “what should I expect, when we get to the village?”
Waangalifu smirked. “I wouldn’t dream of ruining the fun for you.”
Vital gulped. He knew that expression only too well. Zecora wore it often, when she had something up her sleeve. And for some reason, that something never boded well for him in the end.
The village was more like a series of waypoints, each tied in a post along the breadth of the wall, essentially an incredibly interconnected compound. The portion where Vital Spark and his escort were traveling to was a larger cluster of buildings, complete with fortifications built out of carefully restructured stone protrusions to create a barricade of stakes that acted as a first line of defense. A great tower stood farthest back from the wall, with a large metal brazier filled to the brim with dry wood just waiting to ignite, along with what appeared to be a bucket of crystals that glinted in the sun’s rays. The shouts of a well-organized troop running through weapons exercise rang across the air and through Vital’s skull, while another group raced past in perfect formation. The repetitive thud of the hooves prompted another black face to appear in the Unicorn’s mind, only this time, it was a hornless Pony with a glowering expression that quickly lightened into a playful smile.
“So, this is the one of whom the messengers speak.” The voice was light, but held a hard edge underneath. It came from a largely built Zebra who approached alongside an escort of wary warriors bearing the rungu crossed over a spear atop a shield. His mane was shaved down to almost nothing, much like Mustafa’s. His dark eyes seemed to measure Vital in within a few seconds. He wore a vest of hardened leather armor, with a bow and quiver hanging across his back. On his left side hung a two-foot-long stick that held a plate of polished bone at the end. A crude sickle blade hung on his right. “I thought you’d be taller.”
“I am what I am,” Vital said simply as he looked to the Zebra.
“I am Bayek,” he offered, “and this is my kingdom.” He waved a leg towards the village. “This is where we train those who will defend the homeland for the next generation. It is also where we hunt our hides and tan leather. You’ll get used to the smell.”
Vital Spark nodded. “So, where do we go from here, um … should I call you Sir, Bayek, Your Highness…?”
“You’ll just call me Bayek,” he said. “I am sure you’ll come to hate me over the next while.”
“Considering what Waangalifu didn’t tell me, I’m guessing that might be true. I’ll try not to hold it against you forever.”
“Well then, why don’t you get to the yard? You can join the younglings on their morning exercises. They just started their thirty laps.”
Vital Spark smiled. “You know, I don’t know why, but that actually sounds like fun.”
“Well then, you should find the next few weeks very entertaining,” the Zebra grinned.
Vital froze mid-step and quickly turned around. “Oh, one last thing, Bayek.”
Bayek raised a curious brow. “Yes?”
Vital raised his gums to expose his sharper canines. “Would it be possible for your hunters to bring some meat home with their hides, at least until I’m prepared enough to hunt for myself? My body can’t function properly without it as part of my diet.”
Unlike most of the Zebras, Bayek reacted with a wide grin. “I think I am going to find you very interesting, Vital Spark.”
For some reason, Vital Spark couldn’t resist the urge to smile, too. “Now why do I get the feeling that could be a bad thing?”
Vital Spark proved surprisingly adept at pole-arms, quickly picking up the knack for how each of the weapons worked. He soon outstripped his classmates in that regard. The bow and other weapons were another story, however. The moment even a hint of magic was seen, Bayek or an appointed leader would be on him, shouting him down or finding some other means to break the Unicorn’s concentration, usually with methods that left heavy bruises.
In time, the Unicorn was taught how to craft arrows by hoof, to treat and set a new bow string, to utilize shields in combat, and certain basic rudiments of strategy and teamwork. However, the best and worst part of his day always came when Bayek would pull him away for close and hoof-to-hoof combat. It just happened to that time of the day as the Zebra chieftain once again caught the Unicorn’s rear leg with the crook of his club and, in one motion, pulled his hooves out from under him, re-introducing him to the ground. It had become an almost constant acquaintance over the last while that bordered on a love-hate relationship.
Vital spat out the dirt that had coated his mouth and narrowed his gaze as he rose to his hooves again. “You know, that’s really starting to get old,” he said as he settled into a combat stance for the twentieth time that day.
“Start learning to keep an eye on all your legs and it will become younger.” Bayek smiled, holding the club and waiting for the colt to be ready again.
Vital Spark glowered at the Zebra for a time, then stopped suddenly as an idea occurred to him. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, crouched low to the earth, then nodded as a dim blue glow shone beneath his hooves.
Bayek reached out and tapped his horn with the bone plate.
Vital smirked as he dove under the Zebra and spun his body on his forehooves to strike at Bayek’s legs. Bayek jumped, doing a flip right over the Unicorn, before knocking his back legs out. Rather than let that inconvenience him, Vital Spark used the chance to launch himself back up onto his rear hooves and begin a series of backflips, before landing in the ring several feet away from the seasoned warrior. He closed his eyes again and raised a hoof, motioning in an action as old as time for Bayek to strike.
“You’re learning,” Bayek laughed.
“It’s a start,” Vital smirked. “I don’t know exactly where this will take me, but if you give me a couple more weeks to tweak things, I might actually stand a better chance against you.”
“You must have had training, before you came to us,” Bayek stated.
Vital shrugged. “I wouldn’t know, but I guess it’s possible.”
“Well then, shall we dance again?” Bayek asked, lifting his club.
“Let’s.”
Vital stood before a clear firing range. A series of thick segmented trunk pieces had been propped up against boulders at various distances. Off to the side, a table covered in the strangest looking blades the Unicorn had ever seen sat waiting for one of the warriors in training to approach. Its front had two blades, one curved and the other beneath it a straight dagger-like protrusion for extra grip and cut. Another prong jutted backwards from the point at the top, making a sort of sloped triangle that glinted in the hot sun. Bayek paced back and forth, peering intently at each of the gathered warriors. Finally, he stopped walking, turned, and addressed them directly.
“You’ve been studying the club and the sickle blade,” he started. “Both are good weapons for hoof to hoof combat; however, a battle is not always won in the range of your foreleg. Today, we begin training with the hunga munga, a versatile weapon that can defend you in close quarters, but may also serve efficiently as a mid-ranged throwing weapon.” He picked up the first blade from the table. “The use of this weapon is not something simple. In learning it, you will be trained in control.” He tossed the first blade, which cleaved a target over ten meters away. “Precision.” He grabbed another and tossed, this time impaling a farther target. “And most importantly, patience.” He threw one more and buried the spiked top inside one of the farthest targets. “As you know, metal is precious. Therefore, only the most proficient of you at the end of this training course will be allowed to possess a blade.”
Vital Spark raised his hoof.
“Yes, Vital Spark?”
“If you don’t mind, Bayek, after I spend enough time familiarizing myself with the weapon physically, could I try handling it with my magic as well?”
Bayek picked up one last blade, turned, and threw it at one of the mid-ranged targets. “When you can make that shot with your hooves, then you may use magic,” he said.
“And will we be learning to use them at close range as well or do we require mastery over throwing them first?”
“You already have basic knowledge of wielding a blade in combat, so we’ll only work on throwing for now,” he replied.
The next two hours were spent focusing on learning the weight and heft of the blade and how to release it without cutting their own skins. Each hunga munga had a slightly different make in its tines’ shapes and arrangements, but the end result was still the same, affording multiple opportunities to strike their targets, even if it wasn’t with the portion of the blade they had intended to strike. Truly, it was a very effective ranged weapon. Vital Spark just had one problem; he really couldn’t aim properly. On more than one occasion, he either overshot or dug his blade into the dirt. When he did manage to strike his target, the blade usually struck at an angle where it nicked or grazed the wood, rather than embedding properly.
“You need to hit the target, not simply try to hit the target,” Bayek said for what felt like the hundredth time.
“How do you do something without trying first? Isn’t that the whole point of action in the first place?” Vital said, exasperated.
“The journey must be done up here,” Bayek tapped Vital’s skull lightly under the horn, “before it can be done out there.”
“Bows and arrows are a lot easier,” Vital grumbled to himself. Then, after that moment of self pity, he took a deep breath, cleared his mind, and tried again. He visualized what he wanted. He focused his will into the depth of the throw, the point of release, and suddenly, an idea struck him. He reared up onto his hind legs, pulled the weapon close to his chest, then flicked out as fast as his leg would allow. The hunga munga whistled as it flew towards its target, then landed with a solid thock. “Huh. That actually worked,” Vital marveled.
“Not bad for a beginner,” Bayek laughed. “Keep working at it.”
“I still have to work on getting that forward throw down,” Vital agreed. “But I suppose it’s progress, at least.”
“A step forward is still ground taken, my friend.”
“I thought I was supposed to be a cadet,” Vital said with a playful smirk.
Vital growled as his rear hooves scraped against the ground. The great convex shield he held up with a foreleg was taking quite the beating, and the leg in question felt practically numb from the strength of the blows. The long spear he had been training to use with his fellows sat nestled on his back, but his opponent gave him no chance to draw it, let alone wield it, and the bulkiness of the shield made it almost impossible to wield both weapons at once.
“How the hay am I supposed to do this?” he swore.
“You’d best figure that out, colt,” his opponent huffed as he continued to rain down blows on the Unicorn. “Minotaurs hit a lot harder than this. One well placed blow from one of their warhammers would probably break your shield entirely. You’d be lucky to have your foreleg escape intact.” The older Zebra shouted a warcry and resumed his barrage. “Don’t just guard. Fight! This isn’t some friendly spar. You are battling for your very survival!”
A stinging pain lanced along Vital’s flanks, followed by a dull burning as hot blood welled and began to pour. The old warrior’s spear dripped with the ruby droplets it had just drawn. His face was bedecked in a series of red lines and yellow diamonds. The Unicorn felt his breathing start to hitch as his muscles began to lock. His foreleg ached terribly. It was only a matter of time before the warrior broke through his guard again. Where would the spear land this time, his tendons, his neck, his heart?
“Fool!” the soldier roared as he crashed into Vital Spark’s shield full force, causing the Unicorn to tumble into the ground. When Vital’s vision cleared again, he already felt the tip of his opponent’s spear at his throat. Vital couldn’t keep his eyes off the shaft as he struggled to somehow see through his muzzle to better perceive the nature of the metal tip that even now pushed so gently against the soft flesh on his neck. “Look at me, Unicorn,” the warrior ordered.
Vital Spark didn’t respond.
“I said look at me.”
Vital flinched as he felt the pressure increase. He looked up slowly to meet the paradoxically cold yet burning gaze of his captor. “When you enter the heat of battle, you have two opponents you must face. The first is your physical combatant. However, he is less pressing. The greatest opponent you will ever face is your fear, your sense of self preservation. They numb the mind, destroy thought and reason, leaving you to either freeze and die or flee and still die.” That piercing glare lingered on Vital for a few moments longer, then rose to level at every warrior in training that had spectated the match. “Conquer your fear or you will be conquered.” He pulled his spear away from Vital’s neck and backed away. “Now get up and try again,” the stallion ordered. “Trust your training, calm your mind, and find the way through. If you cannot defeat me, fight me to a standstill. If you cannot fight me to a standstill, then weaken me to the greatest extent of your ability. If you are not prepared to die, then you are not meant to walk this path.” He lowered himself into a combat stance. “Now show me what you can do.”
The Unicorn found himself on the ground again within a minute.
“This one still has a ways to go,” the warrior said as he motioned over to a pair of spectators. “You two, help him out of the ring. Take him to the healer to get patched up.” Then he looked down at the Unicorn. “Don’t think that this is the end, Vital Spark. You and I will spar again as many times as it takes, until you learn your lesson.” Then he looked up at one of the cadets and his expression darkened. “And what are you smiling at, Wabeki?” he demanded. “Come join me in the ring. Let us see if you fare any better.”
Vital Spark nodded weakly in acknowledgement to his teacher’s harsh words, not trusting himself to speak as he wrestled to calm his heart rate and reduce the shaking his adrenaline forced his body into. Somehow, he had a feeling it was going to get a lot more painful from here on out.
He wasn’t disappointed.
On the plus side, he would have plenty of company in the healer’s care over the coming days.
The healer’s hut was one of the largest buildings in the vicinity, located near the great tower, most likely to follow the same logic of keeping away from potential enemy lines. It was more like a great stone building really, with enough space to house many patients at once. Considering they were a military installation, it made sense to have such a structure handy, and was very likely buildings of a similar nature had been made in the other waypoints as well. The healer was a stocky-looking Zebra with a lame leg and a missing ear. A younger mare walked with him to help with the more difficult tasks, while two others attended to the many supplies in various earthenware jugs or worked with patients that would arrive with fresh wounds from practice.
“Now, we healers are here to assist as best we can,” the deformed Zebra began, “but there will be times in battle where we will be otherwise occupied. It will be up to you to administer aid to your compatriots, until such time as you can bring them to us. This will include dressing wounds, splinting broken bones, and foraging for wild herbs, among other necessities. Msaidizi will walk you through the basics of splinting and dressing today, including how to reduce blood flow from a wound. We will focus on herbology tomorrow,” he said sternly. Then he looked intently at the Unicorn with the golden mane. “Vital Spark.”
“Y-yes, Master Mponyaji?” Vital Spark asked.
“You have already received some education in various healing herbs and their applications for medicine. As such, you are to be excused from tomorrow’s exercises for a different form of education on Bayek’s orders. Do you understand?”
Vital Spark nodded. “Yes, Sir.”
“Excellent. You’ll report to the library tomorrow at this time. Now then, since I happen to have you anyways, come over here. You can be our casualty for the day.”
Vital Spark promptly gulped.
The library wasn’t really all that much to look at. It seemed more like a study than anything else, with a series of cubby holes filled with papyrus scrolls and a few scraps of cloth embroidered with pictograms. Unlike the other dwellings, there was no sign of the dripping water jugs to take some of the edge off the heat, which left Vital Spark feeling very much overheated. He licked his lips heavily, then cleared his throat to grab the lore keeper’s attention.
“Lady Ujuzi?” he asked hesitantly. “I was told I’m supposed to report to you today.”
The mare in question whipped her head around, her mane swiping like a broad fan as she turned to gaze on Vital Spark with wide eyes made even larger by two carefully carved crystals that augmented the appearance on her muzzle.
“What? What was that?” she asked as she dismounted and approached the Unicorn. A single band hooked around her neck, emphasized by a dark blue sapphire. An emerald encrusted band lay around her foreleg and her tail had been tied by a piece of carefully carved jade. She blinked owlishly as she looked Vital Spark over. “Who are you?”
“Vital Spark, ma’am. I was told you had something to teach me today?”
“Oh. Oh, yes! Yes, of course, the spark of life. Come in. Come in. I’ve been expecting you for such a long time.”
“You … have?”
“Goodness, yes. Why, I do believe I’ve been waiting for you to come, since I was just a little foal.” She tapped her chin ponderingly as she reached over to drape a shimmering gauzy shawl over her back. “But we’re not here to talk about the past, we’re here to talk about your future.” She walked over to one of the shelves and tapped her hoof against the stone. In a matter of moments, a scroll plummeted down neatly in the pad of her hoof. “Bayek wants me to instruct you in the language of the Minotaurs. Tell me, are you at all familiar with it?”
Vital Spark shook his head mutely.
“Well then, I suppose it’s best to start from the beginning. You are familiar with the unique form of yelping that we utilize. It is a cry somewhat similar to the tones you might hear from our distant cousins, the Donkeys of Equestria.” She laid down the scroll on the floor and unrolled it to reveal the figures of a quadrupedal cow, followed soon after by the images portraying the anatomy of the male and female Minotaur respectively. “Minotaurs, on the other hand, speak more from their bodies. The slightest twitch can be a challenge or an insult, if taken in the wrong light. Snorts and the occasional lowing are utilized to vocalize certain concerns, but a more primal interaction is preferrable. One might say that their entire culture is based around this primal behavior that is found in all creatures of the world: the need to demonstrate dominance, the ability to communicate one’s displeasure with a glance, the overriding compulsion to find a mate and claim her for your own. It is with this mindset that one is capable of perceiving the subtleties of their language and society.”
“So, you’re saying that I need to….”
“Get in touch with your instincts and let them go, yes.”
“And … how, exactly, am I supposed to do that?”
“Well, Vital Spark, answer me this. Have you ever been in a rut before?”
Vital Spark blushed. “No, I can’t say that I have.”
The mare pulled out a small daintily curved bottle from one of the lower cubbies and pulled out the stopper, before handing it to him. “Take a few whiffs of this,” she ordered. “Just a few, mind you.”
“Um … okay,” Vital Spark said as he took a shallow inhalation. The scent proved … surprisingly sweet. In a matter of moments, his heart rate began to pick up and a dim flush shone beneath the fur on his cheeks. His next breath was a deep one, and a low nicker escaped his lips as he let out a throaty sigh. His nostrils flared eagerly as his upper lip flapped up to waft as much of the scent into the passages as possible. He whickered, then chuckled drunkenly as he leaned in closer to take another drag. Two swift hooves quickly seized the bottle, however, and stoppered it, before stowing it away.
“Hey!” Vital Spark growled as he pawed the floor angrily with a hoof. He tossed his head and snorted, then sputtered.
“What you feel now is a taste of the Minotaur ideal for their warriors,” Ujuzi explained calmly. “Instinct directs almost everything in their lives. It is how their warriors maintain their connection to the earth, drawing nearer to its more wrathful tendencies to bolster their own. They are a passionate people, easily roused to anger. To show weakness is to invite scorn. To show haughtiness is to court with a duel to the death. You must learn to stand with confidence, while controlling your baser desires. If you do not, then only by defeating many in honorable combat will you ever manage to win respect among them.”
Vital Spark sputtered again as his tail lashed behind him. “That was cruel.”
“Ah, just three words, and a lovely glare.” Ujuzi smiled. “You’re getting it already.”
Vital Spark looked worriedly at the withering garden for the compound. Once verdant green leaves wilted in the hot sun, and the rooted vegetables weren’t doing much better.
“At this rate, we’ll need to send for supplies,” he noted. “I can live with meat, but everyone else….”
“So, you’ve figured it out,” a familiar voice spoke from behind.
Vital Spark jumped in surprise, rungu at the ready. A shield lay comfortably on his back, crossed by two spears, while his hunga munga sat on either side of the leather belt he had made with the assistance of a skilled tanner. Then he let out a sigh of relief as he looked on his mentor. “Bayek. You startled me.”
“Glad to see some of what I taught you stuck,” the Zebra grinned. “And here we thought you weren’t going to get it.”
“Learning to speak Minotaur helped,” Vital shrugged. “And then there was the whole being ready to die for my cause thing. But what exactly did you mean earlier, when you said I’d figured it out?”
“The degradation,” Bayek said as the smile left his face. “It’s been happening for a while, but it’s starting to get serious.”
“How far does it reach?”
“Who knows anymore?” Bayek sighed. “For all I know, by the time we’ve finished this conversation, we could have lost more fields.”
“Surely the jungles, at least, should be fine, right?”
“Some of the outlying settlements report they’re fine at the moment, but others have seen degradation there, too.”
“But why is it happening? I thought Zebrica was supposed to be the most fertile and rich country on this landmass.”
“That's what the shamans are trying to find out,” Bayek told him.
“And behind the wall?”
“The shamans are going to be meeting with one of the sacred cows to discuss the issue soon,” Bayek shrugged.
“Will there be an escort, or would they take that as an insult?”
“They’d take it as an insult, even if there wasn’t an escort,” Bayek chuckled. “Fortunately the longhorns are much less … extreme, compared to the rest.”
“I always wondered. How do we communicate with them, anyways? Smoke signals?”
“Drums,” Bayek answered.
“I take it that particular lesson will be coming soon?”
“That's not my place. You’ll have to talk to one of the shamans to find out about that.”
“You’d have thought they would have taught me, while I was in the village. Then again, I suppose there were other things I had to learn first.” He sighed. “Do you think they’re okay? Back at the mountain, I mean.”
“They’re probably better off than we are,” Bayek said. “They have many more options open to them.”
“Dare I ask, or is that another one of those things that I’d have to talk to them about?”
“The mountains offer more options in terms of foraging and using fertile soil. They’ll make do. Trust me.”
“I do, but I still worry.” Vital sighed. “Then again, I suppose there would be something wrong with me, if I didn’t.” He frowned as a dim blue glow emanated from his hooves, then died again. “The land is definitely unwell. If nothing is done, I’m afraid this savannah may just become another waste.”
“I have to trust the shamans will find a way to stop this,” Bayek said as he looked off toward the great escarpment that divided Zebrica from the Stampede Grounds. “My job is to keep my eye on the horizon. The Gryphons have been sending ships to their kingdom across the ocean for months now. The Minotaurs are beginning to feel restless.”
“So, a conflict really is coming.” Vital Spark frowned. “I don’t know if I’m ready to really kill, Bayek.”
“No one knows; not until the enemy lies dead at their feet.” Bayek chuckled. “All we can do is prepare, and I worry that may not be enough.”
“Stinks, not knowing, doesn’t it?”
“Yes, it most certainly does,” Bayek laughed again, “but I suppose it would spoil the fun to know too soon.”
“Sparring is fun, Bayek. But war?” Vital shook his head and sighed.
“You have your ways, and I have mine,” Bayek said. “Conflict is an inevitable part of life. It is how you choose to face it when it comes that defines you. I prefer to greet it head on.”
“Even if you lose someone?”
“You lose more by holding back,” Bayek returned. “Better to try and fail than to do nothing and succeed.”
“But … isn’t success a good thing?”
“To succeed at doing nothing would be the same thing as claiming you were a great artist, because you watched another paint or that you were a great farmer, because your neighbor pulled in a large crop,” Bayek explained. “If we have no part in the work, we can have no part in the success.”
“Like the little red hen.”
“I am unfamiliar with that one.”
“It … just popped into my head. I suppose that’s a good thing.” Vital shrugged. “If I … remember it correctly (man, that’s strange to say, after all this time), the hen was a mother to many chicks, and wanted to do a certain amount of work on the farm. Each chore linked to the next: gathering seeds, planting them, watering them, tending the crop, harvesting, grinding to flour, and finally baking a loaf of bread. Throughout the story, she asks if any of the other residents will help her and her children. A dog, a pig, a horse. None of them want to. So, in the end, when she finally asks who will help her eat the freshly baked bread, they all volunteer, but she denies them, because they didn’t help in any step that led to the bread being baked in the first place.”
“That was a very wise hen,” Bayek chuckled.
“I suppose she was,” Vital agreed as he watched the heat rise in waves off the escarpment. “I guess I should try to be wise, too.” He pulled his rungu out of its resting place and smiled at the warrior. “Care for another spar?”
Bayek grinned as he pulled out his hunga munga. “I thought you said you were going to be wise.”
The returning pilgrimage was a silent one as Vital Spark trekked over the wilting long grass and cracked, parched earth accompanied by an equally silent escort of four warriors from the compound. The discipline and focus, alongside the lessons he had gained in the language of the Minotaurs, had left him less outspoken around strangers and acquaintances than he once was. That, and the scarcity of their supplies meant they had to make every drop of water and grain of salt count. The fact that the winter showers had not come left them all concerned for their well being as they passed over the vast reaches, drawing ever closer to the mountain and the Moyo Wa Roho. A cold anxiety squeezed tighter and tighter in the Unicorn’s chest as they drew nearer to their ultimate location, but he knew better than to let that anxiety affect their pace.
Finally, the great village came into sight, and as it had been nearly a year ago, a forest of tents circled the structures. However, unlike before, the sounds of laughter and busy murmurings in the pathways were absent. No artisans were at work. No diviners cast their lots to read the will of the spirits. No guards stood at post along the settlement’s edge.
“This is … eerie,” Vital Spark finally said.
“Let’s get to the chief,” one of the guards suggested. “He’ll be able to explain what’s going on.”
The year had not been kind to Mwalimu. The elder had become gaunt, his face drawn with weary lines. His head rested on a makeshift pillow made from bundled hides as the heat beat relentlessly against the walls of the hut. A broad basin filled with water lay by his side for him to drink as he needed, while the guards hovered protectively over the stallion. He smiled weakly at the Unicorn’s approach.
“Vital Spark,” he croaked, then cleared his throat and took a drink. “It is good to see you back again.” He looked meaningfully over the weapons on the Pony’s back and the leather guards along his legs. “And I see you come prepared for a fight.”
“They were gifts, Mwalimu,” Vital intoned respectfully as he inclined his head.
“And I see you cut your mane.”
“It was getting in the way. Is Zecora here?”
“She’s been meditating, trying to locate the source of the drought through the spiritual planes.”
“And has she met with success?”
“None have. The spirits are silent, and a great sense of unease carries over the land. Something is wrong, but we have yet to identify the cause.”
“Is that why the delegation from the Minotaurs is coming, to see if they might be able to perceive the core of the problem?”
“Ah, you learned of that, did you?”
“Bayek told me about it.”
Mwalimu sighed. “It’s the first time they’ve come to meet us directly in over two centuries. We’re all a little nervous.”
“Bayek told me this tribe is different from their fellows, though. Was that wrong?”
“They aren’t so swift to anger, if that’s what you mean, but they are still prone to it. Both sides agreed it would be best for us to pool our collective abilities to divine the source of the problem.”
“And they’re the ones who told us about the new lead bull?”
Mwalimu sighed. “Zecora?”
Vital nodded. “She told me, while we were training.”
“Yes, they have kept us abreast of the situation. We’re hoping to avert any useless hostilities and foster peace through these efforts.” His face darkened and he shook his head. “It’s not good, Vital Spark. Not good at all.”
“How bad are we talking?”
“If we don’t find a solution, then I fear we’re facing war. And it can’t have come at a worse time for any of us. The cows do what they can to keep the males in check, but if the head bull orders, the herd will follow.”
“But that’s suicide!”
“To them, it would be a crusade, and well worth the risk, should they succeed. Worse still, the council of chiefs has received word from Equestria. The Gryphons have declared war. As an ally to the kingdom, we will be called upon to provide aid. Frankly, we don’t know if we’ll be able to meet our obligations and still survive.”
“Then don’t,” Vital insisted. “Tell them what’s happening here. They’re sure to understand.”
“You don’t know them like we do, Vital Spark.” Mwalimu shook his head mournfully. “We’re already subclass to many of your kind.”
“A fact of which I am very much aware,” Vital Spark cut in. “Which is all the more reason you shouldn’t support them.”
“If that is the case, then you should know the consequences of what happens when we don’t honor that agreement. Not only will our own integrity as a people be stained, but it will give those nobles a reason to come with barbed swords to match their forked tongues, once the conflict is ended. Their hearts are set on gold, jewels, power, worldly treasures. We could fight back, yes, but both sides would suffer terribly, and I fear they might have found a means to exploit our arts, after what Star Swirl the Bearded carried back to Equestria with him from his time in our village.”
“They can’t do anything without permission from the princesses, though, right? Why not warn them of the situation and ask for their understanding?”
“And who could we send? Do you actually think your people would stand for such a message reaching their rulers with the riches they could plunder here, if we should break faith?” He shook his head. “No. We have no choice. We will provide the aid, as we agreed when first we accepted them as allies. Such is the ruling of the council, and such is the nature of the response we sent. Besides, while their representatives may squabble, the princesses are good and kind. To leave them to face their fight alone would only serve to disgrace us.”
“And here?”
“With the materials that remain, we should be able to maintain enough to feed ourselves, at least for a time. The faster we can find the source of the problem, the faster we can return our land to normal.”
“When can we expect the delegation?”
“Within the month.”
“Can we manage, until then?”
“The routes will have to work overtime, but yes, with the bulk stores we’ve preserved at the cultivator villages, we should have enough to get us by.”
“That’s good to hear, though I wish we didn’t have to use such means. Did Zecora give any indication where she was going to be meditating today?”
“Only that you would know the place.”
“I see.” Vital Spark smiled. “With your permission, I would like to go and see her. It’s been too long.”
Mwalimu returned the smile. “Of course. But promise to rest, before you leave. Training or not, you’re still more susceptible to the heat than we. Drink some water and get something to eat, before you go.”
Vital Spark chuckled. “Yes, ‘Father.’”
Mwalimu smirked. “Don’t get too pert with me, boy. I can still teach you a good lesson or two, if I’m of the mind.”
“I’m sure you can. Zecora learned from the best, after all.”
The chieftain smiled warmly. “And don’t you forget it.”
Vital Spark frowned as he waited for the great tree to open itself. The bark pulled back, but far slower than it had when last he and Zecora had been there. The vines had constricted and withered against the walls of the cave. The detritus of their shed leaves left a loud crunch each time his hooves stepped on the hardened earth. The rippling light that had been so vibrant along the passage was no more. This was no longer a place of wonder and life. This was a tomb.
He walked slowly into the broad mouth that led into the hidden chamber at the tree’s heart and stopped as a choked gasp escaped his throat. He had expected to see the death. What he hadn’t anticipated was the throbbing pain that almost seemed to scream from the ground beneath. Tears welled up and streamed down his cheeks as he struggled to sever his connection. Finally, he managed to insulate his spirit and turned his attention to the heart of the cave. His face fell at the sight.
The verdant green tendrils that had lined the basin of the great pool were little more than glorified twigs waiting to snap. The moisture had been leached out of them. Beneath, the ground cracked as the clay was baked by the blistering sunlight. At the very heart of the chamber, the pristine living jewel flickered faintly at the end of a withered stalk, its edges dark as Zecora rested her hooves against it. Only the barest hints of light remained in what had once been a thing of wonder. Whole gourds, skins, and pottery lay stacked against a far wall in a great tower that sprawled against the ground.
“Zecora, just how long have you been coming here?” he muttered.
“Three weeks,” the mare replied calmly as she opened her eyes to reveal those luminous orbs, “with a few small trips between to restock supplies.”
“I see your hearing is sharp as ever,” Vital Spark noted dryly.
“I’ve had to watch you for a long time. It’s become second nature.” She sighed as she dismounted from the gem. “Hello, Vital Spark. It’s good to see you again. I just wish it were under better circumstances.”
Vital Spark approached and nuzzled Zecora’s neck. “As do I.” When they separated, he looked over the great tree’s bark. Piles of dead vines had formed along the sides of the hidden cave. “I know this place is precious to you. What happened here?”
“That is what I am trying to figure out,” Zecora said. “This is the closest I can draw to the spirits anywhere in the land. But all I feel–.”
“–Is pain,” Vital Spark surmised.
“Yes. I can’t break through it. There was a kind spirit here, very old. The others called her mother. I can’t hear her anymore, and it’s almost as if the others aren’t willing to speak at all. They’re all focused on something, but I can’t understand what.”
“Perhaps we can try breaking through it together, then.”
Zecora shook her head. “This is far beyond your level of training, Vital Spark. While I appreciate the offer, it won’t do us any good.”
“Then what can I do to help?”
Zecora smiled sadly. “Be you, of course.”
“What’s that supposed to even mean?” Vital Spark asked, the exasperation clearly evident in his tone.
“Just that I want you to be your annoying, whining, impertinent self,” she said with a sad smile.
“The one who always gave you a buck in the rump, you mean?”
“As I recall, it was always you on the ground.”
Vital Spark shrugged. “Times change. I can show you, after we get back to the village.”
“I’m not going back, Vital Spark. Not yet.”
“Nonsense,” Vital objected.
“I mean it, Vital,” Zecora said. “My place is here. Until I can determine the cause, this is the best place to stay.”
“Zecora, I may not be the most experienced shaman, but you literally have practically every shaman in Zebrica waiting at the Moyo Wa Roho. If you can’t break through alone, surely the conclave can do it together. Why haven’t you told them?”
Zecora frowned at that for a moment. “I … actually don’t know. I should have thought of that idea first. I would have. Why … why didn’t I?” She reached up to rub her head as her bangles shook and jangled.
A slight prickling sensation brushed against the back of Vital Spark’s mane as he took note of the Zebra’s behavior. He knew Zecora well. She would never have made such a mistake. “Zecora, just how connected to this place are you?”
“You know that better than anyone else, Vital Spark.”
“Then I think it’s time you left it.”
“Vital Spark, I told you–.”
“Now, Zecora,” Vital said as he stared her down with that same serious gaze Bayek had used on him for so many months.
“I’m not–.”
“Zecora, I’ve gotten a lot stronger, a lot faster, and a lot less willing to put up with your objections. This place is having an influence over you and the way you’re thinking. Either you will come with me now or I will show you first hoof just what I’ve learned over this last year.”
Zecora crouched as her eyes narrowed dangerously. “Try me.”
The Zebra was promptly raised off the ground and left hanging in Vital Spark’s magical aura as he levitated a rope out of his satchel and hogtied her and her muzzle with all the efficiency of a seasoned hunter. “You can’t use your powers, if you can’t communicate with the earth; you can’t use your inner power, if you are bound beyond the ability to invoke it; and you can’t bite me or squirm off my back, if I tie you down. We are leaving, Zecora. No more arguments. We don’t have the time. I’ll explain, when we get back to the village.”
Zecora squirmed and glared at him the entire way back.
“So, let me get this straight. You bound my daughter, effectively gagged her, and then carried her back here against her will.”
“That about sums it up, Chief.”
“Why?” he sighed as he shook his head despairingly.
“She’s under the influence of another power.” Vital shrugged as he looked casually at the spears that were pointing his way. “I brought her here for her sake. Besides that, she’d been out there trying to make contact with the spirits for far too long by herself. And to top it all off, with the delegation on its way, it would be best for her to remain here at the village to help prepare. Since she wasn’t of a mind to leave, I felt it was my duty to make her.”
“And rile the whole village up in the process,” Mwalimu sighed.
“It seems I’ve always had a talent for that among the tribes.” Vital Spark shrugged.
“You’ve been training with young Bayek, I see,” he said urbanely.
“He helped me get over some of my timidity.”
“Clearly.”
“I can make her a gift as an apology, if you’d like. It may take some time, but I’m pretty sure I can think of something appropriate.”
“And you’re not at all concerned about the guards with their spears around your throat?”
“I’m in the right, and I was taught the importance of maintaining my calm in battle. It carries over to this.” He shrugged. “I’m worried, but I’m also calculating how to get out of this situation, should worse come to worst, just like they are. We both don’t want to fight, but we’ll be ready for it, anyways. And between you and me, Mwalimu, she’s had this coming for a very long time. I’m just the one who finally took the time to do it.”
“You do realize I’m in a rather unpleasant situation, no matter which ruling I give.”
“You do realize my reasoning is sound, though.”
“That doesn’t exactly make it any easier.”
“She’ll pout for a week or so, but she’ll get over it.”
“And if she doesn’t?”
“Then I’ll just have to figure out how to make it so she can.” Vital Spark shrugged.
Mwalimu sighed. “Very well, Vital Spark. I don’t appreciate your methods, but I understand the motivations behind them. But next time, please, do us all a favor and come to me first. I can always order her home.”
Vital chuckled as the spears retracted. “Yeah, let’s see just how well that’ll work in the next few weeks.”
Vital Spark sighed as he strode along the once-brimming river, now little more than a trickling stream. “Guess it was too much to hope for that it wouldn’t have touched here yet,” he sighed. “Sing me a song of a lad that is gone. Say, could that lad be I...?” he sang softly as he peered forlornly into the stream bed, not even able to see his reflection anymore. The land had changed. He had changed. Had it really been for the better? Would he even approve of himself, if he had his memories? He sighed again as he plodded along the stream, until a flash of green caught his eye, nearly blinding him. He blinked a few times, then tried to levitate the stone with his magic, only to feel, for lack of a better term, a slipping sensation as his magic slid off it.
Vital frowned and tried again. Yet again, he was rebuffed. “What in the world…?” he muttered as he stooped down and scooped up the stone with a hoof. It was crystalline in nature, refracting and casting the light endlessly through its blue-green facets. He peered closer, and as he did so, he noticed a hole about the size of his eye. He peered into it curiously, then turned back to the mountain. “What the…?” He lowered the stone, shook his head, rubbed his eyes, then raised the stone again. “A hip?” Before his eye, the mountain had changed from a grand ascending edifice into a curve not unlike the rumps of certain mares his eyes had been drawn to during his pilgrimage. “What is this thing?” he wondered.
Intrigued, the Unicorn placed the stone in his saddlebag and turned back toward the village. The mystery would have to wait. They had a delegation to plan for.
The wind blew hot and dusty as the sun shone down over a cloudy pillar far in the distance. Vital Spark peered nervously as the pillar gradually grew closer. He could practically feel the thunder of heavy hooves striking the earth.
“I know the matter is urgent, but is this really necessary?” the Unicorn asked. “They seem to be moving at an unusually fast pace for a meeting like this.”
“The lands to the north are somewhat harsher than our savannah. If they’re facing similar conditions to our own, it’s quite possible that it is a matter of life or death,” Mwalimu said. “Let’s not let our nerves get the best of us, before we even have the chance to meet.”
“I still don’t like it,” Vital Spark said.
“You, the colt that always looked for the best in things, expressing doubt? How remarkable,” Mwalimu wondered.
“I’m just saying we should be careful.”
“Our families have been exchanging communication for years, Vital Spark,” Zecora said coolly from her father’s side. “They’re not about to throw that kind of relationship away for nothing.”
“Not even for their lead bull?” Vital countered.
Zecora glared icily at him.
“Still mad about the hogtying, I see,” Vital sighed.
Zecora didn’t deign him with a response.
“I’m telling you, this feels wrong,” Vital Spark insisted. “No sensible creature would be moving at that breakneck of a pace at this time of day. It’s just not logical.”
“Minotaurs aren’t a logical people,” Zecora argued.
“Right, they’re instinctual,” Vital said. “They rely on their emotions more than anything else. There are only two emotions I can think of that are powerful enough to drive a creature to move at that pace in these conditions, possibly three. Self-preservation, love, and mindless rage.”
“Two of which are perfectly logical,” Zecora pointed out.
“At the risk of losing the cow they’re escorting with limited supplies from the Ukata Mkubwa?”
“Their cows aren’t frail creatures, Vital Spark.”
“Children,” Mwalimu said dryly, “am I going to have to send you to your rooms?”
“Do you really think anyone would dare to try keeping her there?” Vital countered.
“Vital Spark, if you don’t mind that tongue of yours, you’re more than welcome to join the water harvesters to prepare the meal for our guests,” Mwalimu said.
Zecora smirked.
“I’m still uneasy about this,” Vital Spark said.
“What could possibly go wrong?” Zecora asked with a snide smile.
A sudden chill ran down Vital’s back. He didn’t know why, but now he was absolutely certain something terrible was about to happen.
…
He wasn’t disappointed, though he wished to the spirits he had been.
The first sign of the Longhorns’ ill intent manifested at the guardians. The great totems pulsed and flickered weakly as the dust cloud approached. In a matter of seconds, the pillars crashed to the ground and Mwalimu gasped and stumbled backwards, as if he had been struck by a heavy blow. His breathing came in short spurts. “Evacuate the village.”
“Father, what are you–?”
“I said evacuate, immediately!” he barked. “I felt their rage, when the totems fell. They’re on the warpath. Vital Spark, gather the mares and stallions, as many warriors and able-bodied shamans that wish to fight. We’ll need every Zebra. Zecora, gather the remainder of the village and get them out of here. You know the routes, and you know the precautions. Follow them, and get those smoke signals off as fast as you can. If this is any indicator, then the worst has come.” He turned to look grimly at the young Unicorn. “Grab your weapons, your armor, and your shield, Vital Spark. As of this moment, we’re going to war.”
The rapid pounding of rawhide drums thundered into the air as the diviners and shamans unfit for battle streamed slowly and orderly from the village. Tents were abandoned in favor of the essentials. Food and water were distributed as much and evenly as possible among the parties, leaving little to nothing for the brave warriors that were to stay behind.
“All right,” Mwalimu said as he looked over their ranks, “you’ve all been under at least a certain amount of combat training with the assistance of our brothers and sisters who came here from the border. However, this combat is not your basic self defense. We are dealing with a war machine that cannot and will not stop under any circumstances, until they are all dead.”
Several of the shamans cringed.
Mwalimu continued his address. “Now, I know that for many of us, it goes against our very natures to consider such actions, but we have little choice. If it is at all possible, we will seek to subdue them, but no matter what method we choose, there will be blood spilt. There will be pain. And, in all likelihood, some of us will die. I leave it in the hooves of Ngao and Upanga to teach you what they can of how best to deal with these foes.” He bowed his head respectfully to the two warriors standing in their full battle regalia. War paint stained their black and white fur a multitude of colors as they stared the gathering down.
“Minotaurs are bulky creatures,” the slimmer of the two began. “They strike with savage ferocity. Their reach is long, and their strength is enough to crush you to a pulp. Your greatest ally will be agility. If they really are on a rampage, they won’t think straight. That means we can wear them down.”
The stockier one spoke up next. “You’ll have to pick them off one by one. Best way to thin them out is to cut their hamstrings. It will render them practically immobile. However, getting in to land such a strike will be difficult. Minotaur hide is exceptionally thick, and they’ll be carrying weapons that prove just as effective a shield as they do an armament.”
“We only have a limited supply of weapons, so don’t go wasting them by trying to land a lucky throw,” the slim one continued. “As Upanga said, their hide is difficult to penetrate normally. It will take several passes. The spears will need to act as a means to draw their ire, not a projectile. With the power of the land in disarray, we will need to rely on our wits and other gifts, if we are to have any hope of surviving this encounter.”
Upanga narrowed his gaze. “Don’t be fooled by our numbers. Minotaurs are built to endure blow after blow. We are not. If worse comes to worst, you target their throats and their arteries, and you get out as quickly as you can. Even if you strike a lethal blow, a Minotaur can and will continue to fight, until the last breath.”
“As such, we will divide our forces into two main fronts. Half will engage the enemy directly, harrying them from the sides to draw them into a vulnerable position, while the other half will strike them from a distance on the rooftops with sling, with stone, with arrow, whatever you can manage,” Ngao said. “I will lead the main attack force. The rest of you will follow Upanga’s instructions. Take your weapons. Gather your munitions. The enemy will soon be here. When I give the signal, let them have it.”
All was quiet as the Minotaurs charged into the heart of the Moyo Wa Roho. A single white cow practically glowed at their center, surrounded by twenty-four warriors, all bearing battle axes, war hammers, brass knuckles, and all manner of arms. Heavy spiked pauldrons and thick leather belts proved the farthest extent of the armor the creatures wore. Their manes were all cut into low, short mohawks and their eyes practically glowed with outrage at the state of the village.
“They’re gone,” a tall, broad-shouldered blue bull snorted and pawed angrily at the earth as he tossed his head. A gilded battle axe sat between his hands, while a great stone warhammer lay against his back. Faint flecks of dried blood colored the wood and rock a speckled black. He spat angrily. “Cowards.”
“Rushing to action gets us nowhere,” the cow said indignantly. “We still don’t know what happened. This violence is not what he would have wanted.”
“And are we to simply sit idly by, when the cries of his blood have joined the cries of the land? I will not rest, until my father’s killers are brought to justice and the blight is cleansed from the land. When we finish here, we will join Disiungitur and the rest of the herd.”
“Careful, Bradom Steelsinger. You may be the chieftain’s son, but you are not the leader yet,” the cow said. “It will be for the elders to decide whether we join him or not. That bull claims to speak for the sleeping gods, but his words are perversions of their teachings. You know this. Do not allow your grief to cloud your judgement.” She turned to glare at the other warriors. “That goes for all of you.”
“And are we to simply let their poisonous actions stand?”
“We are here to right the wrong that has been done. That can only be accomplished at the spring itself. You know that as well as I. Without the water of life, everything in this land will die. The balance must be restored.”
“Fine,” Bradom snorted, “but after we reduce this accursed village to rubble.”
“Now!” Ngao’s cry rang loud and clear across the air as the rooftops were suddenly flooded with Zebras. The rain of stones began almost immediately.
Bradom bellowed his rage as one struck him squarely on the forehead. “For the herd and my father!” He charged forward, lowering his head to strike at the walls of the huts. There was a terrible clattering of wood as the carefully bundled sticks and clay burst apart. The Zebras atop the roof cried out in surprise and dismay as they fell.
“For the spirits and our land!” Ngao cried again as the Zebas poured out and surrounded the bulls. Rungu flew, daggers were drawn, and the great dance of the warriors turned toreadors commenced. The bulls were clever, being careful not to allow themselves to become separated. Individually, they would have been more manageable, but in the confines of the village, they proved a more formidable force.
Vital Spark proved a valuable asset as he used his magic to levitate weapons back to their owners and strike at exposed flanks, prompting the warriors to turn and leave an opening for the Zebras there to strike, before retreating to a safer distance. Stones and projecties bound to miss were quickly adjusted in their path to make up the difference and find a viable target. Slowly, the war party began to fall as the shamans lashed out with their arts to smash the bulls on their skulls. Their eyes rolled back in their heads, and they fell prone to the ground.
The cow looked on the battle and sighed heavily. She turned away as one minotaur cleaved a Zebra in two mid-leap. The blood sprayed heavily across the parched earth and the warrior’s fur. “Why must they always be so quick to fight?”
“Because it is the way of colts and steers to assume the worst, and because you all stampeded into our territory with malicious intent. I assume there is an explanation for this?” Mwalimu’s voice carried calmly up to the cow, and the cow looked down with some surprise at the tiny elderly Zebra that had somehow managed to penetrate through their blockade without being seen or heard.
The cow snorted and nodded gently, being careful not to draw too much attention. “You see the war hammer on Bradom’s back?” she asked, motioning curtly toward the battle-crazed young bull. “That belonged to his father, the former chief of our tribe. He was struck down by one of your number, when we were attacked on our way to the village. When one is struck down dishonorably–.”
“It is your duty to bring justice to the villain responsible,” Mwalimu reasoned.
“And we are not to stop, until we fulfill that charge,” she agreed.
“No one left from the village during that time. We were all too busy preparing for your arrival, and supplies were too scarce to risk such a journey into the savannah.” Mwalimu winced as five Zebras were sent flying through the air by a powerful hammer swing. “We would have noticed if someone had stolen from our stock.”
The cow hissed as one of the bulls’ tendons was neatly cut by a well-thrown hunga munga. “So, you don’t believe the attackers came from your tribe.”
“It is highly unlikely.”
“Then this battle is pointless?”
“An act of self defense, more than anything.”
“I see,” she said as she watched the fighters dance between the Minotaurs’ legs. “By the way, how did you manage to sneak in here, anyways?”
Mwalimu chuckled. “It’s an old family secret passed from chieftain to chieftain.”
“Unhand my father, you filthy sow!”
That sudden, ear splitting shout served three purposes. First, it called the entire battle to an utter halt. Secondly, it drew the attention of every bull directly to the center of their living wall, where not one, but two intruders now stood next to their sacred cow. Thirdly, it gave said bulls the time to prepare to charge the intruders en masse.
“Zecora, no!” Mwalimu cried, but it was too late. The mare rose to deliver a powerful blow to the cow’s jaw, her hoof ablaze with radiant blue light. The cow tumbled backwards, then slowly fell to the earth as her eyes rolled back into her head. “Oh, you stupid, foolish, brave little girl,” the elder croaked as a ruddy red glow began to ripple over each of the bulls, one at a time. “Did you never think that they could use it, too?”
The wrath of the longhorns was as the crashing of the waves against the shore. The two fought as best they could, but even reduced to twelve, the bulls were formidable and their fury knew no bounds. It was only a matter of time, until they landed a critical hit. The Zebras abandoned their plans and flowed like a swarm of ants to protect their leader and his heir. However, the situation looked grim as Zecora fought to keep the Minotaurs’ fists away from her father. It was only a matter of time, until the warrior with the twin weapons struck a mighty blow to Zecora’s withers, followed by an overhand strike to her back. She slammed heavily into the ground as Bradom Steelsinger prepared to strike the killing blow.
“Zecora!” Vital Spark cried.
The wind began to pick up suddenly, and a faint chant seemed to echo in the air around them. Bradom Steelsinger’s blow never landed as the Minotaur screamed. Intense blue flames erupted from the ground, shooting over twenty feet into the air and spreading to the sides with unnatural order and swiftness. The Minotaurs backpedaled as they watched the warrior burn to ash before their eyes.
“It was always about fire,” a familiar voice spoke behind Vital Spark. When he turned his head, he found the wizened form of Mustafa sitting on Table’s back. The old Zebra looked frail and tired, but his eyes were alight. Even beneath the shadow of his headdress, Vital could see them flaring. He would never forget the sight for as long as he lived as tongues of fire shot from the old Zebra’s sockets. “Fire was his gift to give mortals comfort. It was the light to give them drive. It was the item he stole that made him infamous, and it was what forged the chains that ultimately bound him.” Mustafa slowly and weakly pushed himself off the turtle’s back. He turned and rubbed it’s beak gently. “Tell my story, friend,” he said, and Vital could swear the ancient animal was crying as it watched.
Then Mustafa turned those burning eyes on Vital Spark and handed him his walking stick. “It seems I won’t be able to give you advice in the times ahead, my friend. For that, I apologize. But please, take this. It has guided me well for many years. May it serve you as it served me.”
“Mustafa, what…?” For the briefest of moments, Vital Spark saw another equine in the flames. His deep blue eyes were darkened with intent, his tan fur coat decorated with scars, and a great blue-and-gold coat hung from his shoulders, flapping in the updraft of the flames. Then the vision was gone. Vital Spark stumbled briefly, clutching to the staff almost instinctively for support as its end somehow found the ground, despite having been parallel only moments earlier. “Mustafa, what are you doing?”
“I am old, my friend.” Vital could swear he heard a second voice speak with Mustafa, someone younger, stronger. “So, so old. I have lived many days and done much to be proud of, and much to be ashamed of, but the time has come for my story to end and another to begin.” His eyes shot to Zecora, before looking back to the Unicorn. “Listen, Vital Spark. This is the sign of times to come. Beware. For when the frost has passed and the spring flows again, Ukata Mkubwa will burn. The fire is even at their doorstep.” He smiled sadly at the Equestrian. “Try not for the victory. Survival must be first. Look for a blackbird on the horizon, for it’s coming will be a sign of hope to our people in the hardship to come. Do you understand? The black cat must cross your path.”
“Mustafa….”
“Goodbye, my friend.” Mustafa looked at him sadly as his flames became somewhat subdued. “I wish you luck in the times ahead.” And with that last farewell, the ancient Zebra clapped him on the shoulder, before turning to the wall of flames. He moved towards it, hobbling along slowly and carefully. As he got closer to the wall, chuckling began to filter through the air, much to the confusion of the Minotaurs. That chuckle soon escalated to raucous cackling laughter as the Zebra pushed forward. And then he entered the wall of flames. His headdress and robe stopped as though they’d hit a wall, but the Zebra himself simply vanished. One moment he was there, the next he was gone. The wall of flames shook and twisted, until the image of a large head unlike anything the Zebras had ever seen appeared within. Yet, somehow, the round hornless head covered in smooth skin looked … familiar to Vital Spark. The head roared at the Minotaurs, a loud unearthly wail filled with rage and anguish and loss. And then the flames exploded in a blast of heat and smoke as a wave of force sent the minotaurs flying back twenty feet. Many landed with the air completely knocked out of their lungs, the only evidence of what happened being a smoking robe and headdress a short ways away from the injured Zebras.
“Mustafa,” Vital Spark choked as the reality set in that the one who had once been mentor and friend was no more. Then he felt a sudden smack to his head as the staff fell out from under his grip and he shook his head to clear it. “Right,” he said as he dashed the tears from his eyes. His magic engulfed the headdress and other remnants, before stuffing them into a saddle bag. Zecora and Mwalimu both were unconscious next to the great cow. “Mkuta, Ngao, Upanga, help me carry them,” he ordered. “We need to leave now.”
“But–,” Ngao began.
“Now!” Vital Spark snapped as his horn flared, striking the ground with a beam of light. A few moments later, a jagged pillar of ice exploded out of the ground, raining soil and pebbles over them. “We’re retreating to the mountain. Did anybody else want to object?”
The Zebras chose not to argue with the Unicorn who’d just found out he could create deadly ice sculptures with his magic. He took enough time to stare at the Bulls as they began to come around. “If any of you so much as blinks in our direction, I’ll make sure you regret it,” he growled. And then he led the others silently away.
The journey toward the mountain was a harsh one with their limited supplies, but at the very least, Vital Spark was able to make it easier by using his magic to conjure ice cubes for the Zebras when the heat became too much. In due course, the sun began to set, and the equines made camp at the mountain’s base.
Vital Spark was swift to reach Mwalimu and Zecora’s side, once the others had settled in and the wounded had been tended. “How bad is it?” he asked of the few healers that had remained behind.
“The chief is well enough off. A few bruises, a broken bone or two, but nothing that time won’t be able to mend. Zecora, on the other hoof….”
“Tell me,” Vital said bluntly. “We don’t have time for games, stalling, or any of the other delay tactics. Give it to me straight and be quick about it.”
The young healer sighed. “Her back is broken, Vital Spark. She … she’ll likely never walk again.”
Vital Spark’s jaw clenched as he took a deep, steadying breath. “I … see.” He struggled to keep the bile from spilling out his mouth. The one responsible for this travesty had already been consumed in Mustafa’s flames. But that didn’t change the facts. He strode closer and brushed a hoof gently up her mane. “And her spirit?”
“It sleeps. She won’t wake, until she is ready.”
“And if she never is?”
“You already know that answer, Vital Spark.”
Vital sighed as he conjured a block of ice and wrapped it in a towel, before running it over the prone Zebras’ brows. He felt the sting of tears, but he forced them back. This wasn’t the time for grief, much though he wished to give vent to his emotions. “How long, until the chief rouses?”
“It’s difficult to say. I should think within the next day or so, though.”
Vital Spark levitated the cloth back to the healer. “Good. I’m going to check on the others. Tell me as soon as his condition changes.”
The healer stumbled to his hooves. “Vital Spark, wait.”
The Unicorn turned with a raised brow. “Yes?”
“Why here? Why the mountain? This isn’t the way to the forest.”
“No, it isn’t,” Vital Spark agreed. “But it is the way to the source of all this mess.”
“You can’t be thinking what I think you are,” the healer balked.
“The land has been crying here for the last year. And in all this time, did it never occur to all of you to actually go check the source for yourselves?”
“It’s forbidden!”
“It’s what’s necessary!” Vital roared back. Ice crackled at his hooves, then slowly dissipated into mist as the savannah’s heat melted it away. “A shaman is to watch and maintain the balance between the spirits and the land. That’s what Zecora taught me. We’re the ones who are supposed to act, when something like this happens. If the problem is on sacred ground, then we go to sacred ground. That is our duty. Or do you want to be responsible for the death of every person on this continent? Every stallion, every mare, every colt, every bull and cow?” A cold mist danced around Vital’s frame as he leveled the Zebra with an intense glare. “You all can stay here, if you wish, but I will fulfill my duty, even if it means sacrilege.” He turned from the rough cloth of the tent’s enclosure to the blazing sun outside. “It’s what Zecora would have wanted.”
Vital Spark peered over the gathered Zebras as their fires flickered along the mountain’s base. It was … strange being in the role of a leader, but suddenly, he found himself playing it, with all the worries, cares, and threats that came along with that mantle. He sighed at the thought, then straightened his shoulders and began his address.
“Today, an event that was meant to be a time of resolution and unity turned to one of discord and destruction. Our home was attacked, our trust broken, and we lost many who were precious to us. We don’t know the cause of this attack, but we do know the reason for the visit. It was Chief Mwalimu’s hope that, through cooperation, we would ascertain the source of our troubles and that of the land. After what just happened today, that is no longer possible.” Vital Spark shook his head. “And as an additional result of the skirmish, the chief is still unconscious, and Zecora–.” He paused to brace himself again. “Zecora fought valiantly to protect her father, and she paid for that loyalty. Her back is broken. If she ever wakes, she will never be able to walk again.”
A low murmur spread through the gathering as Zebras gasped or whispered amongst themselves over this most startling news.
“With every step I took to return to our home, the place where you were kind enough to take me in, clothe me, train me, I felt the cries of the land grow worse and worse. Zecora taught me to heed those voices, and you all taught me how to temper those impulses with my own judgement. Right now, every impulse is telling me that the source of the land’s pain, and thus our own, lies here on the sacred mountain. I believe those impulses, and I believe you all have felt similar proddings and cries in your own way.
“It is my intent to investigate these cries directly. This may be deemed as sacrilege to some, but with the chief unconscious and his daughter potentially lost to us, there is no one to give permission to ascend. Every one of us must act on his or her conscience. Our land is dying. Our very livelihoods are in crisis. To me, the choice is clear. We must ascend the mountain and seek out the troubles that lie there, if there be any.”
“And what if you’re wrong?” one of the gathering asked.
“Then I’ll take responsibility for my actions. It’s that simple,” Vital Spark said. “Every other method that can be tried has been. Had it not, then I doubt you would have consented to have the Minotaurs come, even if we were on better terms with the Longhorns than the other tribes. If we’re going to save this land, then it seems to me that we have no other choice. If you all wish to avoid the risk, then I understand that. I was always an outsider. It won’t matter to banish me after, since I was never a true Zebra in the first place. I can live with that, if it means saving the people I care about.
“Tomorrow, I’m going up that mountain. Any of you that wish to come with me may. The rest can stay here or leave as you wish, though you may want to wait, until the wounded are better rested. I’m afraid that’s all I have to say on the matter. Thank you.”
With that said and done, Vital Spark left to the edge of camp and walked up the mountain trail a ways. He peered back over the horizon toward their village. No dust clouds rose. No angry bellows followed. For whatever reason, the Longhorns had chosen to remain where they were. Either that or their departure had been masked by the sound of the Zebras’ hooves shaking the earth as they made their retreat.
He found a large boulder and climbed on top of it, then finally let go of the resolve he’d used to make his announcement. The sorrow flooded in and the tears welled up. “Zecora,” he croaked.
“I suppose there’s no need to ask what’s on your mind,” a familiar voice called.
Vital Spark whipped his head up in surprise. Mkuta’s face was bedecked by a wan smile.
“You’ve grown so much in such a short time. I hardly recognize the colt I picked up off the savannah a year ago.” The shaman made his way up the boulder and took a seat next to the mourning Unicorn. His tail wrapped comfortingly around Vital Spark’s flanks.
“Not enough for what matters.” Vital Spark sniffled and wiped his nose.
“What matters is you had enough presence of mind to get us away from the village as quickly as possible. True, we could have tried to cripple the remainder of their forces, but it would have been risky, and besides that, there were our own fallen to consider. You did the right thing.”
“Even coming to the mountain?”
“Well, even the best and brightest make mistakes from time to time,” Mkuta smirked playfully.
“Stop that!” Vital chuckled, despite himself. “I’m trying to be sad.”
“Why be sad, when you can be determined, instead?” Mkuta asked.
“I can be both,” Vital said somewhat uncertainly.
“Vital Spark, we both know you’re running on anger and frustration. Those sources of power only last for so long, before they’re burnt up, and then you’re left with the grief. You don’t have to shoulder the burden of leadership alone.”
Vital Spark was quiet for a time as he stared out over the savannah. “It’s … scary, being the one in charge. Every second, I keep hoping Mwalimu will wake up to take it all back. Everyone keeps looking to me for answers I don’t have, and after this, I wouldn’t be surprised if half of them chose to leave with whatever supplies they can carry.”
“And what will you do, if they do?”
Vital Spark sighed. “I don’t know. We need the supplies to help tend the wounded, but at the same time, we only have so much that we can pass around. Even if they left with every scrap of food and water, I don’t think they could survive the journey, not with how bad the blight’s gotten.”
“Then you’ll need to figure out a way to ensure they choose to stay, for their own safety,” Mkuta said simply.
“I can’t do that and climb the mountain, though.”
“Did Bayek teach you nothing of delegation, while you were at the Ukata Mkubwa?” He gave the Unicorn a light smack on the head. “Trust people to manage, while you travel. It’s that simple.” He shrugged. “As for your other problem, if you truly do intend to travel to the living waters’ source, then you should take Zecora with you.”
“In her condition? Are you mad, Mkuta?” Vital balked.
“There is a reason why it’s called sacred ground, Vital Spark. That water provides life to the land, sure enough, but at its source, it is said to hold great power, power enough to heal wounds and purge illness. The last time its powers were invoked was during the great plague five hundred years ago. If you wish to save Zecora, to restore her, then this is your best chance to do so.”
“Do you really think the others would agree?”
“Agree or not, you should go ahead. If you plan to fly in the face of tradition, fly big. That girl is a pain in my flank, but it is a pain I would rather not go without. Mwalimu would agree. She is the future of this tribe, after all. I don’t believe the Earth Mother would want her to live as a cripple.”
“We’d need to brace her back, make it so her spine can’t be shifted.”
“I’m sure we can come up with something. We’re a very resourceful people, after all.”
“Wow. I never thought I’d be the one on the receiving end of a pep talk.”
“There’s a first time for everything. And as I recall, I had to encourage you a time or two under Zecora’s,” he cleared his throat, “unique teaching method.”
Vital chuckled and shook his head. “Don’t remind me.”
The two friends sat there for hours, looking over the horizon as they shared their griefs, their hopes, their worries, their fears, and their memories from the past year. It proved a most cathartic experience for the Unicorn, and he sighed peacefully as he looked back to his old friend. “Thanks, Mkuta.”
“Sometimes, all it takes is a friendly reminder to help us settle our minds again.”
Just then, one of the younger shamans came racing up the trail and skidded to a halt in front of the pair. He panted briefly, then finally managed to gasp, “Chief Mwalimu … is awake.”
“Well, I guess now’s as good a time to ask permission as any, then, isn’t it?” Vital asked Mkuta.
“Something tells me he will say yes,” Mkuta replied as he stepped off the boulder. “For now, let’s go present our respects to the chief, yes?”
Vital Spark smiled. “Of course.”
“Of course you need to go,” Mwalimu said. He winced as he struggled to adjust his position on the ground. A few seconds later, Vital Spark had him propped up with some spare bed rolls. “Your logic is sound. To be frank, I had intended to propose such an action, after our communion. The meeting was meant more to seek to determine what we may be facing, rather than the source of the trouble.”
“Then why didn’t you say so in the first place?” Vital asked.
“Because, without enough justification, traveling up to the mountain is sacrilege. The guardian spirits that protect the spring wouldn’t allow it.”
“And you didn’t think to try contacting these guardian spirits first?”
“They don’t normally speak with us, save in the direst of situations. And even then, they prefer a face-to-face interaction.”
“Seriously?”
“He speaks the truth, Vital Spark,” Mkuta said. “For whatever reason, they don’t enjoy interacting with us. Those who seek to do so are firmly rebuffed, and that’s if they are lucky.”
“And if they’re not?”
“As Mwalimu said, it has to be a good reason. If not, the spirits have their way with you.”
“And the shaman is never heard from again,” Mwalimu finished.
“And these guardian spirits, do they have a compact?”
“They are bound to allow access to the spring, if the need is justified. Otherwise, it is their duty to protect it and ensure it doesn’t fall into the wrong hooves or hands,” Mwalimu said.
“Are there any other potential pitfalls or traps I need to be worried about?”
“If the mountain wishes you to pass, it will let you. Otherwise, you’ll never make it.”
“Hence why a shaman needs the chief’s blessing?”
Mwalimu chuckled and shook his head weakly. “My daughter taught you well.”
“Which is why I can’t afford to fail her now.” Vital sighed. “Is there anyone who might be willing to face the danger with me? Having to carry Zecora by myself without displacing her back may prove a challenge, otherwise.”
“I can’t make any guarantees on the matter. Asking any of them to go up the mountain would be asking them to potentially sacrifice their lives. It isn’t a task to be taken lightly.”
“Even when that task is in fulfillment of their duties?”
Mwalimu sighed. “Even then.”
“Then, with all due respect, and forgive my language, but screw them. If they don’t care enough about the duties they signed on to take care of and swore to uphold when they started this path, then they’re not worthy to go to that spring in the first place.” Vital grit his teeth. “I’m not about to let her suffer, nor am I going to let my home wither away to desert.” Ice crackled beneath his hooves, once again. “Help me figure out a way to carry her without draining my magic, and I’ll do the rest.”
“It will be dangerous. Are you certain?”
Vital nodded. “I am.”
Mwalimu nodded. “Then so be it.”
The contraption was a crude one, but the best they could manage under the circumstances. Rawhide shields were interlocked and sewn together to form a rigid surface, followed by puncturing holes along their edges, so they could be tied together. A series of bindings were then woven through the holes on either side and tied at the bottom of the new board to hold Zecora in place. Lastly, the bindings were tied around Vital Spark’s barrel to ensure she wouldn’t be easily displaced.
“Assuming the mountain will let me, I should be able to make it to the spring within a day, right?” Vital asked as he fidgeted with Mustafa’s staff in its holster to his left. With Zecora on his back, he’d had to improvise a means to carry the weapon without causing discomfort to the mare. Fortunately, his lessons with the hunters and leather workers at the border had served him well.
“It may take longer,” Mwalimu warned. “Make sure to take your time. You need to stop occasionally to adjust to the altitude.”
“Anything else I should be aware of?”
“Don’t die.”
“Thanks,” Vital said wryly.
“Be safe,” Mwalimu said more seriously. “I want the both of you to come back.”
“We will. I promise.”
“Spirits be with you,” Mkuta added.
“One can only hope.” Vital Spark gave both a brief nuzzle, then departed on his journey.
The first couple of hours were easy going. The slopes were wide and the angle shallow, allowing for a simple climb that didn’t put undue stress on Vital Spark. When they had risen a certain distance, Vital Spark took his chance to sit reluctantly and catch his breath. He looked worriedly at Zecora and brushed a hoof gently over her mane.
“Hold on, sis,” he said. “We’ll get there soon.” He tilted the makeshift stretcher in his magic and levitated some juice from a water skin into her mouth, then down her throat, being careful to ensure it took the proper route towards her stomach. When he was satisfied, he lowered her gently to the ground and proceeded to meditate.
The tumult from the earth was a ragged roar, almost like a moan. Rather than allow himself the chance to get lost, he turned his consciousness towards the heavens, breathing gently in invitation. A dim eddie stirred, but nothing else. It was almost as if the air were actively holding its breath. Once more, he heard the same phantom whinny that had haunted his slumber so often after his first arrival at the Moyo Wa Roho. And with that cry, a great wind blew down off the mountain and across the savannah. The earth was in pain. The air … was afraid. He furrowed his brow as he opened his eyes once more and cut off his connection to the spirits. “Just what is going on up there?” he murmured to himself as he rose to his hooves and tied Zecora’s spinal board on his back once more. “Only one way to find out, I suppose.”
The rest of the journey passed in silence. On a few occasions, the paths wound and crossed one another, but meditation soon revealed the way forward as he focused on his natural affinity with the air spirits to discern the way the air flowed over the lay of the land. As time passed, the air began to cool, and the hot savannah sprawled far below, like a scraggly blanket. The wind danced in eddies, kicking up loose dirt to form dust devils in the wavering heat. Once more, Vital Spark had to wonder at the difference in behavior. Once beyond the mountain’s borders, the wind seemed happy, carefree. What force could have taken residence on the mountain to change the wind’s nature so dramatically?
He made camp for the night, being careful to set up a proper shelter, after locating a place where they could rest away from prying eyes. It was unlikely to experience an attack, but with Zecora unable to defend herself, Vital Spark wasn’t about to take any chances. He tied a canvas over them to create an artificial lean-to, then tossed patches of dirt over the top to camouflage it. As an added precaution, he prepared a set of warning lines several yards up and down the trail, so he would be woken if anything tried to approach. Then, once he was certain Zecora was comfortable, he prepared for bed and slept. The whinnies echoed in his dreams, like screams. It was most definitely not a restful night.
For two more nights, Vital Spark repeated the same routine: feeding Zecora, resting, meditating, setting up camp, and taking it down again. All the while, the air grew colder and the ground harder until it developed slush, and then proper snow. Vital Spark was able to use his magic to manipulate the drifts, but the effort left him needing to take more breaks. Steam rose off his body as the toll of his work made itself manifest. In addition to the restraints keeping Zecora in place, Vital Spark added the cloak and blankets he had packed in his saddle bags to keep her warm.
Finally, the slope levelled off, and Vital Spark could just make out the opening of a great stone edifice. Icicles flowed artfully on either side of the entrance, but a closer inspection revealed the carvings that lay beneath the frost. Vital laid his hoof against the ice and felt the familiar hum of the spirits’ power from within, faint though it was.
“We made it, Zecora,” he said with a smile. “We made it.”
The cold air blew through the passage as he passed into the enclosure. Snowflakes flew in whirling eddies, while the barest patter of water trickling on snow drew the Unicorn on. It was only a matter of time until they found the spring. The snow drifts were uniform, leaving him lost as a navigator in a hurricane. The wind became more violent and he squinted into the stinging crystals targeting his eyes. The howling winds carried that same shrill cry that had haunted him for so long. Vital shuddered, then smacked himself in the face, worried he may have been falling asleep.
After another five minutes of fruitless searching and fussing over Zecora, he finally let out a frustrated cry. “This is ridicu–whoa!” The warmth of his sopping fetlocks had melted enough of the snow to create a slick surface beneath his hooves, and he slammed against the floor of the cave with a muted thud.
He growled in frustration. “Where is it, damn it?”
The wind blew harder in response.
Vital Spark sighed. “Okay, assuming this is the place, then that means the guardians have to be here, too, somewhere,” he reasoned. “That’s probably the best place to start.”
He slowly removed the bindings holding Zecora to his body, then assumed a meditative pose, keeping Mustafa’s staff firmly planted in the space between his legs. “The chief tells me you prefer to deal in the physical plane, but you don’t like dealing with the usual shaman.” A wry smile touched his lips. “As you can see, I’m not the usual shaman, but I do come to invoke your services by the authority of the contract you are under, with the current chief’s blessing. Show yourselves or the compact is broken.”
An angry shriek filled the air, followed by a raspy whisper that echoed through the space.
“It dares? It dares to demand our obedience? Arrogance!”
“It’s kind cast us out. It’s kind killed our head, and now it comes to us?”
“It reeks of the cursed walker’s magic,” another hissed.
“Freeze it!”
“Let the cold burn like its cursed fire!”
The rage was as a torrent, as were their shrieks of outrage.
“Are the guardians so quick to judge that they would freeze one, before he presents his case?” Vital Spark countered. A peculiar groaning moaned from beneath, and at that moment, he knew where the spring lay, and he knew just how precarious a position he now sat in. “I may reek of the foreign magic you hate, but I had no part in whatever may have cast you out. I was adopted by this tribe and trained in their arts by the heir to the chieftainship, who now lies before you. It is on her behalf that I come, not my own.”
Another hiss sounded, heated, biting, not unlike the utterance he made, when he was stung harvesting honey from the wild bees in the savannah.
“And how shall we know it speaks the truth?” one finally demanded.
“By this mark that I bear,” he said pulling his necklace off and holding it forward. “Crafted with the love, care, and trust of the chieftain. If this wind and snow be your doing, I humbly request you calm it, that we may speak openly and in fairness. I am told you prefer negotiating on the physical plane.”
The biting snow stilled, though dark storm clouds still roiled overhead. With the storm abating, Vital Spark was finally able to perceive the breadth of the space he had entered. The cave was mostly sheltered, with only the opening overhead and the entrance he had passed through to give extra space. It made it the perfect hold for the snow to pile and condense, mixing with the waters that doubtless flowed beneath the ice.
At last, the silence was broken as the flurries danced and coalesced into vaporous clouds that gradually took shape, until a veritable herd of what appeared to be horses made from clouds materialized across the surface and behind the Unicorn.
“Speak quickly, or not at all. For what reason do you come here?” the largest of the spirits demanded.
Vital nodded his head respectfully. “I thank you for choosing to address me as a person, rather than a monster.” He rose from his position and used his staff as a walking stick to steady his balance. “I have come here to ask access to the powers of the spring. The one you see before you is the sole heir to the chieftain. She is the future of the shamans. She also had her back broken recently in a skirmish with the Minotaurs. The chief was also injured, which is why I come in his stead. He asks that you honor the compact and allow his daughter access to the waters, that she may be healed and lead her tribe forward into the conflict that doubtless lay ahead.”
“We know of this conflict of which you speak. The hatred of the Minotaurs knows no bounds, and the flames of their rage are ever fanned by their leader. You intend to fight with them?”
“This tribe is my family. How could I not?”
“Then we see no objection to your claim.” The creature reared back slightly as its form pulled away from the Unicorn. “Take her to the water’s edge, lest she be lost forever beneath the ice.”
“I thank you.” Vital bowed his head, levitating his necklace back around his neck, before following the opening made by the spirits to travel back towards the entrance of the cavern. The walls glistened with frost as runes and other pictograms made themselves manifest, alongside a series of worn reliefs. He pulled Zecora closely behind him, until they reached the point where ice gave way to hard rock once more.
When the two equines had cleared the spring’s surface, the spirits raced around the edge in a maelstrom. Rather than the thundering of many hooves, a cold wind tore through the mouth of the cave, filling it with an unearthly wailing as the ice gradually began to crack, then broke apart entirely to reveal the churning waters beneath. As their wind blew, the ice chunks dispersed farther and farther back, compacting, until they reached a quarter of the way to the other side of the spring’s surface, then froze in place. When their work was done, the spirits hovered restlessly over the water, tossing their heads anxiously.
“Do it quickly and have done with it,” the leader commanded. “There is no time to waste.”
“Do I have your word your cold will not harm us after?”
“We honor the compact. Your visit is justified. Have faith.”
“This from the ones who were so reticent to trust in me just a few short minutes ago,” Vital said wryly. “Life really is a funny thing, isn’t it?” He chuckled as he approached the water and watched the wavelets gradually settle. Then he frowned. “Forgive me,” he said as he dropped the rope that drew Zecora behind him and propped himself up on Mustafa’s staff, “but there is another matter I must pursue with you, before I proceed.”
The air began to stir as the spirits tossed their heads. “And what more is there that you seek?”
“The land is dying. The spirits of the earth are in pain, or at the very least too busy to speak with us directly. By all accounts, this spring is meant to be the lifeblood of the land. If that is the case, then why does the land wither? Why are the mountain streams and rivers dry?”
“We cannot say. As you see, the spring is preserved. Perhaps it is the doing of the foes you face.”
“If that were the case, we would have known far in advance. Their power is distinctive, much like our own. We would have felt it moving through the land, and they know better than to raise their hands against the land, when they claim to be the children of the earth. Whoever is responsible was much more careful. So careful that the spirits said nothing about it, until the moment we lost contact with them.”
“Again, we cannot say. Our duty lies in protecting the spring, not policing its exits.”
“And I see you go to great lengths to do so,” Vital Spark noted as he eyed the many frozen chunks of ice, where Zebras stared with fear-filled eyes, their mouths open wide in protest.
“Place the mare in the spring, mortal. Our patience wears thin.”
Vital took in the frost, the ice, the pillars, then closed his eyes. “You know, if I were an extremist interpreting a contract to its farthest edge possible, and that contract happened to involve the protection of a certain object, I’d probably try to make sure nothing else could have access to it in any way, shape, or form.” He opened his eyes and looked up at the spirits. “And if I were an entity that shunned positive emotion, I would probably want to create as much difficulty as possible, without getting caught, so that I wouldn’t have to deal with that unpleasantness.”
He leaned casually on his staff. “Now, you see, we have a slight problem here, in the fact that a dear friend of mine told me that this here spring would have to thaw, and that it would happen in my lifetime. Now, the only way I see that happening is if you folks were to make that happen. And the only reason I can think for why the spring would need to thaw is if the water is so cold underground that it’s actually frozen and blocked its flow. Now, assuming that’s the case, it makes one wonder, how could a spirit of wind and cold claim not to know about that happening, and the drastic consequences that are sure to follow,” his hooves scraped into a combat stance, “unless they were the ones responsible in the first place?”
The spirits were silent for a time, and then the hatred rolled off of them in waves as they reared up as one to glare down at the Pony. ”Kill it,” the leader hissed in a quiet voice.
Out of reflex, Vital Spark cast a beam of magic into the ground beneath Zecora and a dome-like structure of ice suddenly rose to surround her, with just the barest hints of holes to supply her air, while allowing her to retain her heat. Then he turned his attention to the spirits raging around him as the clouds roiled and began to descend. The storm kicked up and the deadly cracking of ice reforming met his ears. The light faded as the creatures charged as one herd, plunging into the ground and spreading like a mist over the Unicorn’s hooves. Warm air puffed out Vital’s mouth as frost began to form over his fur and mane.
The air grew harder to breathe as the spirits’ barrage entered his lungs. Vital Spark knew the spirits of the desert wouldn’t be of much use. They feared these creatures, and rightly so. Their fury was most definitely not a joke. The Unicorn’s primary focus had been in learning how to understand and commune with the spirits of the earth. That hadn’t left him much time to study the hierarchy of the air, if there even was one to begin with.
His body began to shake uncontrollably as its natural defenses kicked in. Adrenaline flowed as his heart rate picked up and his teeth chattered. Ice began to creep up his back hooves and he quickly broke his forelegs free of the ground, before the ice could become too strong. Time was short, Vital Spark knew. “Gamble it is, then,” he muttered to himself as his horn ignited and a blue nimbus enveloped his hooves.
“Rulers of the frozen flame, ye lords and ladies of the frost and snow, I call to you now and ask you make yourselves known to me.” His magic surrounded his necklace and levitated it before the staff, which had taken on a similar nimbus. “I make this humble offering in exchange, that I may know thee and call upon thy name to bring justice to the oath breakers, they who have raised their hooves against the Earth Mother and the lifeblood of the land. Please, hear me.”
The storm grew worse, and Vital Spark could hear and feel a sort of crackling in his chest as he struggled to breathe. “Please,” he gasped as his breathing became more shallow and the light from his horn and hooves began to flicker.
“Freeze its blood,” the hungry voice cried as its fellows let out that familiar shrill whinny.
Just as Vital’s magic was beginning to give out and the tiredness of sleep to overtake him, a sultry feminine voice sighed in a bored tone. Oh, very well. I suppose I can let you slide, just this once, but you really must do something about those rubies. Such gaudy things.” The red in the gems slowly began to drain, until a bright blue shone through each of them and the necklace flew back onto his neck again. “Do wake up, won’t you? I’d rather not have to drag you back to my realm, after all this effort.”
Vital Spark shuddered as a jolt of energy coursed through his body, snapping him awake. He gasped, then winced at the pain in his lungs as he clutched his chest with a single foreleg.
“My name is Shiva, mortal. Remember it well. I’ll let you call me this once. Next time, I expect a proper contract, though.” Her voice giggled. “Though bringing a girl a few jewels never hurts,” she added. “Now, why don’t you call my name, so I can play with my new toys, hmm?”
Vital Spark panted as the room began to spin around him. Even with the jolt of energy, the cold was running its course. He had to act quickly. “Sh-Shi … va,” he barely managed to say as he dropped to his knees and the ice spread up to his flanks.
Shiva sighed. “I suppose it will have to do.”
A loud snap, like the crack of thunder, boomed through the tiny space, followed by the sound of jingling bells. From the swirling cloud formation overhead, the great blue fingertips of a massive, albeit incredibly delicate hand began their slow descent. A set of metal bangles bedecked its wrist, and a flicker of purple fabric wafted alongside it as it descended.
“Such naughty little things,” Shiva’s voice rang clearly through the air, even as the finger descended to touch the top of the spring. “I usually leave the thawing to my brother, but in this case, I suppose I’ll have to make an exception. Grandfather would be rather put out with me, if I let things stand as they are now.” A second later, the entire surface on the water shattered to dust and rose to bedeck the skin along the finger with a kiss of frost, not unlike body glitter.
The clouds blew apart from the impact, and the spirits reared in outrage as hairline cracks began to form along each of the ice blocks throughout the chamber. Their leader let out a shrill whinny of rage and defiance, then rallied the rest of its herd together to storm the massive appendage.
“Are you actually doing what I think you’re doing?” Shiva’s voice called disbelievingly.
The patches of cloud continued to come together, until a massive horse the size of ten huts and trailing frost and snow in its wake raced towards the spring and the hand at a breakneck pace.
“Do you know who I am?” Shiva challenged.
The living storm just whinnied shrilly in defiance as it charged with a single overwhelming cry. “Kill!”
“Oh, my. You really don’t, do you?” The great hand opened wide as the amalgamation of wind, snow, and hate plunged on to break against the blue palm and spider out across its surface, leaving pale white streaks behind in their wake. “Oh, new makeup. That will be fun to tinker with later. But first things first.” The palm turned itself skyward and suddenly the encroaching tendrils of cloud were drawn forcefully back into a whorling ball that bulged and struggled against invisible bonds. “I see. You creatures feed off of negative emotions to grow stronger. Interesting. Well, in that case, I’m sure I’ll be able to keep you well fed, while I chastise you.” The massive palm curled closed, muting the shrill whinnies that were sounding less of rage and more of terror as the arm steadily began to retract itself. “Every creature of the frost knows not to attack their queen.” A wicked, throaty chuckle echoed through the clearing as the temperature began to rise again. “The balance on the mountain should be returning to normal shortly, little one. Do give my regards to its owner, won’t you?”
The hand finally reached back into the swirling mass of clouds. Just as its knuckles were about to pass the barrier, a more playful giggle echoed over the air. “Oh, and say hello to Clover for me.” With that, the laughter resumed as the hand fully retracted and the storm clouds dispersed, letting the brilliant rays of the savannah sun filter down into the open cave and dance across the walls, reducing the frost to water, while the frozen tombs collapsed, releasing their prisoners.
Vital Spark stared wearily up at the sun, basking in its warmth and sighing with relief. His limbs still felt heavy, but he knew he had one more task to fulfill, before he could rest. He dragged his hooves along the floor, using his staff for support. He clenched the rope of Zecora’s board and pulled, dragging ever closer to the waters, even as his muscles stabbed with pricks and needles from the warm air washing over his fur.
After what had to be the slowest minute of his life, Vital Spark finally felt the spring’s waters lapping gently against his hooves and fetlocks. The water was cold, but compared to the frigid ice he had just endured, it felt almost like the hot springs Lady Ujuzi had mentioned existed in the Stampede Grounds. He slowly undid each rope along the shields, then gradually leaned onto both sides of the stretcher, watching as the water flowed over the edges, lapping at the Zebra’s flesh, while the sun’s light refracted soothingly off the water’s surface.
“It’s okay now, Zecora. We made it.” Vital Spark smiled tiredly as the room began to slide out of focus. “We made it.” He welcomed the lapping water’s gentle ministrations as they drew higher and higher on his weary frame. And then he knew no more as the darkness claimed him.
The air was dark and musty in the old structure. Seamless stone walls blocked out almost all signs of light, save for what flowed in from the single entry point, beneath a great cloth. The air reeked of ash and soot as thunderous detonations shook the earth and the war cries and bellows of Zebra and Minotaur pierced the air. And yet, despite the clear signs of pitched conflict, somehow, the structure remained undisturbed and unviolated. That is, until a tiny spark popped into existence and began to sputter and spin on the floor. This was soon followed by another and yet another as a veritable waterfall of the strange specks fell out of thin air and began to rise, spinning, whirling faster and faster, until a great glowing disc-like structure the size of a Minotaur illuminated the surrounding space, exposing thick hide shields, spears, clubs, bows, quivers, and all manner of leather garb fit for battle.
Hammer Strike was the first to step out, stumbling faintly as he worked to regain his sense of balance. He knelt to the ground for a moment to catch himself, before looking back to the portal he had created, waiting for the others.
Pensword flew out at a breakneck pace, crashing into the wall and causing several spears to clatter loudly to the floor. He shook his head to clear it, then sputtered. “Did I neglect to mention how much time travel gives me headaches?”
There was a gap of several more minutes, before Grif stalked out of the portal, stiletto in one hand, ready for anything. He took a breath as he scanned the area and his eyes slitted. “Zebrica. This building’s definitely their handiwork.” A low growl escaped his throat. “This village is under attack. I can smell blood and fire in the air, and something that smells awfully like–.”
A loud cry of surprise cut the Gryphon’s dialogue off neatly, followed by a barked order as the warrior in the doorway leveled his spear at the three friends, while their portal shrank into non-existence, disappearing with a final little pop.
“Anyone speak Zebrican?” Grif asked as he dropped the knife and held up his claws to show non-aggression.
“Most of the basics,” Hammer Strike offered.
“Got anything for ‘we aren't going to hurt you?’” Grif asked.
Hammer Strike hummed to himself for a second before speaking, “We are not hostiles.”
The Zebra narrowed its gaze. “You speak our tongue. Who are you, some noble from Canterlot?”
He gave a faint shrug. “Not entirely. I am Lord Protectorate Hammer Strike.”
“That’s–.” The Zebra was suddenly cut off as a great bull with glowing red eyes burst through the building’s opening, causing a partial collapse in the roof as its long horns pierced through the warrior’s side, followed by the bull flinging the Zebra into the wall that was still intact as it unleashed a powerful bellow; a bellow that was cut off as Grif grabbed a nearby length of rope and, with a quick flick of the wrist, sent it outwards to wrap around the Minotaur’s left horn. With a savage yank, Grif brought the beast’s head down to the ground and, growling like a large predator encroaching on wounded prey, he ran up to the Minotaur and sliced his throat smoothly with the same knife he’d dropped less than a minute prior.
Without giving so much as a glance to his dying enemy, Grif turned his attention to the Zebra. “Hammer strike, what can we do?” he asked grimly as he opened his bag and retrieved a vial, sprinkling its contents on the wound and muttering a silent prayer as the potion began its work.
Hammer Strike reached into his coat, pulling out a blue crystal, before reaching into a different side, searching for something. After a moment, he pulled out a green crystal of similar size. “I don’t have a ton of energy that I can work with, right now, Grif. Combine these aspects for me.” He passed the crystals casually to Grif as he moved towards the Zebra.
Grif didn’t stop to ask questions as he grabbed the crystals and concentrated. Soon, a single crimson crystal stood where the two had once been before. His muscles were tense as he offered the crystal back with a rigidly controlled motion.
Hammer Strike scanned over the Zebra to the best of his abilities and attempted to use the aspect to heal him. It took some effort with the low amount of power left in his field, but he was able to manage a quick patch up, aiding the potion to help close up the wound and staunch any internal bleeding. He sighed as his energy settled and he rubbed at his temples to relieve the dull aching. “It’ll take some time for him to recover entirely, but this will keep him living.”
“Okay,” Grif said, suddenly all business. “So Minotaurs are attacking this village and Vital’s somewhere here. How much fight have you got in you?” he asked the Earth Pony.
“Plenty enough,” Hammer Strike assured him. “Just not thaumically. I’ve still got magic to spare,” he replied as a soft blue glow took over his left hoof, while a golden glow followed onto his right.
“Okay, I think it’s obvious that we don’t know enough to do anything decisive here,” Grif said. “Much as I hate to say it, we can’t fight an army of Minotaurs with what we currently know. You need to find whoever's in charge and see if you can communicate an order to them to retreat.” He turned to Pensword. “You find Vital. Be careful and try not to engage, unless you have to. I’m going to see if I can buy whoever's left some time.”
Pensword nodded grimly. “You can count on me.” He took to the skies immediately, scanning over the village, only to blanch as he noted the many columns of smoke rising in a chain along the surface of the land as bovine clashed with equine across the brittle grass on the plains. “Oh, Celestia damn it,” he swore.
Grif barreled out the door in time to see another bull charging in their direction. Reaching behind him, Grif grabbed for the first thing that came to talon, which ended up being the haft of Graf’s axe. Hefting it in his talons, he charged forward. The Minotaur’s eyes widened upon seeing the opponent he expected the least barreling towards him. That proved to be a fatal mistake as Grif leaped at the last second, arcing over the minotaur with one single chop. Grif landed on the ground behind his opponent with feline grace and continued forward. The Minotaur's head rolled across the ground, while it’s body charged ahead a few more steps on its inertia, before slamming to the ground and sliding forward.
Hammer Strike sighed to himself as he sequestered the Zebra away into a more hidden spot. He frowned as he looked out one last time, before stepping towards the back of the room. The shadows grew darker as they covered his being. He reached over his shoulders towards his back, where a gold-etched katana suddenly materialized, before he stepped grimly into the shadows. It was time to administer some chastisement.
Extended Holiday Ch 145: Dude! We’re Getting the Band Back Together! Act 23
The squad was new. They’d barely begun their training two weeks prior, so when the assault hit, they’d been placed on behind-the-scenes roles. No one had foreseen the attack being so successful for the Minotaurs. Now they found themselves backed by the far wall of the settlement, their commanding officer dead not twenty feet away from them, with a broken neck shattered by a blow from a Minotaur’s club. They stood with their hide shields up, stabbing spears ready, but the fact that they were nervous was plain to see as the four large bulls strode towards the five much smaller warriors. They knew their chances were low. They had no training and no experience, while their opponents were well seasoned, decorated by scars from many battles. The rookies attempted to steel themselves for what was to come. Death was staring them in the face. The question was, could they accept it?
Then, as the first bull raised his hammer to attack, a sound filtered through the air, not unlike a stone that had been flung from a sling. It whistled low and strong. Then, suddenly, it stopped with a sickening thock, and then one of the bulls dropped dead. Then another fell, and then a third. Each crashed forward, revealing a single thin blade sticking out from between their shoulder blades. It was the strangest knife the Zebras had ever seen. They were used to the overly ornate weapons the Equestrians liked to show off. This one was simple, all one piece of polished steel, and shaped like a feather at its blade.
The remaining two Minotaurs turned to see where the blades had come from, and at that moment a long growl echoed through the air. Had a lion been disturbed by the noise of the battle and found its way in?
Looking above them, they were greeted by the sight of a large beast. It had the body of the lion, but its wings, face, and talons were that of a bird. Its body was black as death, save for the very tips of it’s crest feathers, which were a vibrant green. The beast had its wings splayed outwards, and its claws where dug into the wood of the wall from a nearby structure, holding it on the vertical platform as though it were standing on the ground. It took a moment for any of them to realize the beast wore armor, and not just any armor, but finely crafted metal that glinted in the light from a fresh polish. And to top it all off, this creature had weapons.
Further queries were cut off as the Minotaurs turned back, and their eyes widened in surprise. No, not just surprise, one recruit realized, but fear. The Minotaurs were actually afraid of the beast. There was a blast of wind as the creature gave a threatening roar. It pounced on one of the surviving Minotaurs, leaping nearly ten feet in a single shot, landing on the surprised bull’s shoulders. The beast produced two knives and jammed them into its foe’s neck, before giving a savage twist that yielded an ugly cracking noise.
Before the second bull could shake his surprise, the beast produced an axe and threw it, even as its first victim continued to fall. The axe sank deep into the bull’s shoulder, and he bellowed in pain as the beast flung itself into the air. In an instant, it was behind the once proud bovine. It stretched out its hand. The axe glowed and pulled itself free, returning to its master's familiar grip with enough time for it to send the blade into the back of the bull’s chest. The last Minotaur’s eyes glazed over as he collapsed, and the strange beast retrieved its knives and the weird feather-shaped blades, before turning to them.
“Do any of you speak Equestrian?” Grif asked the squad of clearly surprised rookies. “Est-ce que tu parles Phrançais?”
The colts gaped, uncomprehending, at the creature that had just saved their lives.
“Great. That’s great.” Grif did his best to draw a picture in the ground in front of them. Given he was no great artist it looked like a few oddly-shaped stick men, but he hoped the general message of ‘Run. I’ll cover you. Find safety,’ came through.
The colts pretty much just scratched their heads, once again completely lost in translation.
A soft sigh was heard. “He is suggesting you flee. He will protect you.”
The colts jumped in the air with startled yelps as they quickly searched for the source of the mysterious voice. With no sign of it in sight, they scrambled for their shields and spears, then ran as quickly as their hooves would carry them.
“Newbies,” Grif sighed in Draconic, before the breeze shifted and he was treated to the scent of still more Zebras, fear, and Minotaurs. Without a second thought, he headed for the next group.
Pensword flew as swiftly as his wings would allow him. An aerial view of the conflict could only give him so much to work with, however, so he dove from time to time to get a closer look at the situation. Fortunately, each compound was identical in its construction, so it was a simple matter to check in the key population areas, once first fly-by was complete. After narrowly escaping a Minotaur’s club, however, he made sure to adjust his altitude to avoid detection. So long as he could fly on silent wings, the Minotaurs would be more than occupied with their foes on the ground.
The Zebras seemed to be congregating around a series of towers located toward the end of the compound farthest from the wall. Fires blazed from giant braziers located at the tops, and as Pensword turned his head, he perceived the hints of pale columns of smoke far in the distance. “Signal fires,” he mused, “but what for? Are they trying to call reinforcements?” He shook his head. “Time enough for that later. Vital Spark first,” he said. “Focus, Pensword.”
The sounds of pitched battle rang through his ears, while blood watered the earth, staining it crimson as the parched ground drank eagerly. Skilled though the Zebras were with their weapons, it was clear that the Minotaurs’ tough hides made direct combat an ill-advised strategy. At most, the warriors could only hope to take the brutes by surprise and strike a tendon or other weak point to cripple their opponent. This wasn’t a battle. This was a slaughter, and Vital Spark was somewhere, right in the middle of it.
He was about to move on to the next village when a shrill cry rose up from the battlefield. This wasn’t the rugged roar of a stallion, nor was it the defiant timbre of a mare standing her ground. No, Pensword knew this scream only too well as the ghosts of his past reared their ugly heads. Before he even knew what he was doing, the warrior darted like an arrow, hardly even feeling the wind-shear as an angry roar tore through his lips.
Pensword didn’t remember exactly what followed after. All he knew as he came to himself was a terrible throbbing in his left wing joints and the curious spurting of blood dropping into a trickle as a choking gurgle passed from the titan at his hooves. One final shuddering breath burbled its way out the creature’s muzzle, and then it was still. Pensword reached down to yank at his wing, tearing off chunks of fur and flesh from the body. He winced at the sudden burning sensation near his shoulder and promptly dropped the wing to rest against the ground. Just a few minutes, and already he’d gotten himself into trouble.
The sniffling sobs soon pulled him out of his self-chastisement, however, as he jerked his head to the source of the sound. A young foal trembled in a set of leather armor that was clearly two sizes too large for him. He held his spear shakily as he pointed the head at the intruder. Pensword immediately backed off, leaving a clear opening to the door. He motioned with his good wing and his forehooves. “Go.”
The foal sniffled one last time, then stuck the spear on his back next to a shield that looked more like a shell on his tiny frame. He took one more look at Pensword, then darted out into the battle.
Pensword sighed. “Guess I’ll have to hoof it from here,” he muttered to himself, leaning down to check his shortsword was still sheathed in place. Then he braced himself, turning back to the hut’s entrance.
Three things followed in short order. First, a loud bellow sounded from outside. Secondly, the stone wall at the hybrid’s side burst apart. Lastly, a rather large chunk of stone struck Pensword’s skull with incredible force. And with that impact, Pensword knew no more.
Hammer Strike frowned to himself as he flicked the katana in his hoof, clearing the blood off the blade. It was easier to get around with shadow walking, but it wasn’t the same style of combat he was used to. Of course, his situation was made more interesting when he had cleared a room of Minotaurs and the individuals he’d saved were all there.
Looking at him.
“You are free to flee from the Minotaurs,” he calmly spoke out to the group.
“What manner of spirit are you?” their leader asked.
“Not quite right.” Hammer Strike shook his head. “I am Hammer Strike, here to help with your … infestation.”
“The famed Celestia’s Ghost?”
“That is a title I have not heard in a long time,” Hammer Strike chuckled, before nodding.
“Why are you here, when the fires of war rage in your homeland?”
“We can discuss this later. Just know that I can be in more than one place.” Hammer Strike shook his head, before directing them to the exit. “You need to help the others and flee.”
The Zebra shook his head. “We are bound to defend this outpost so long as we are able against the incursion, to give the other villages enough time to relay the beacons. We cannot leave, until the message has been passed.”
“I can assure you, it will be done, and should be done with as little.…” Hammer Strike rolled his eyes as he thought to himself. “Just know it will be done. We will see to the Minotaurs.”
“We?”
“I did not come alone.”
“If it is your command, far be it for me to go against the Doomhammer.” The Zebra chuckled. He barked a quick order to his fellows. “I wish you luck.” And with that final benediction, they departed into the chaos once more.
Hammer Strike chuckled to himself as he moved towards the shadows. “I don’t need luck.”
One hour. One hour had passed, and still the battle raged as Zebras who had regrouped through the heroes’ efforts were found and harried by Minotaur reinforcements. Hammer Strike flickered through shadow after shadow, but he was a practical tactician. If the Zebras continued to be found by fresh enemies, then their efforts to protect the warriors would be for nothing. As such, he turned his attentions to seeking out the source of the influx, and the best way to do that was to travel to the great wall itself.
It was a simple matter to emerge at the edifice. He could still make out the fires in the distance and the rumble of stampeding hooves. A great dust cloud rose up from the wall a few miles to his left. In a matter of seconds, he peered surreptitiously out from behind a boulder to eye the troops storming through the opening. They surged out in threes, meaning the opening was limited in its width, but uniform enough for the troops to surge through confidently, then spread to rush the nearest compounds with an almost mindless ferocity.
“Delightful,” he commented with a sigh.
Naturally, he needed a means to cut off the attackers. Otherwise, the remaining Zebras wouldn’t stand a chance of survival. And strong though he was, even he knew facing that many Minotaurs alone would be suicide. And with his thaumaturgy drained for the time being, that left him with only a few options. Then again, he had promised a beacon. A smirk pulled at the Earth Pony’s lips as a plan began to form.
Hammer Strike’s hooves were suddenly covered in a bright orange light. The hole in the escarpment soon followed suit as what started as a subtle stirring in the earth soon became molten slag, followed by a deadly ray as searing light rose in a curtain to gradually cover the opening. When he was satisfied with the height and radiance of the solar barrier, it was a simple matter to create a stable matrix that would replenish itself in the background, until he disabled it, thus making it easier for him to focus on other things.
Angry bellows soon turned to cries of pain as the backup in the charge thrust the bulls in the lead through the wall and into utter oblivion as their bodies were reduced to ash. The bellows of chagrin and rage blew out from the top of the ravine, like a yell through a sound amplifier. When the earth began to shake and the crevice to widen, the wall shifted to match the opening. The Minotaurs were well and truly cut off.
Off in the distance, the deep halloo of a trumpet echoed through the air as the Zebras’ cries became louder, more savage. A black blur flew among them, darting in and out almost faster than the eye could track. Grif clearly had his talons full. With this particular threat curbed for now, it was time to get back to pest control. His neck cracked ominously as he retreated into the shadows again.
Grif was certain they’d managed to get everyone that was left. He’d been unable to track down any more survivors for the last twenty minutes or so. He was about to see about tracking down Pensword and Hammer Strike, when Pensword’s scent passed him on the wind. Cautiously, Grif stalked through the settlement, doing his best to avoid the centers of death and fire that littered the area. The Minotaurs had done a number on this place.
Anger boiled beneath the surface every time Grif came upon yet another hut in flames. Several Zebras littered the area. Many were dead from debris or large rocks falling on their heads and bodies, or possibly thrown on them.
“Minotaurs are strong, boy; far stronger than any Gryphon. If you get in an arm’s length, they’ll lay you out easily,” Graf’s voice echoed in his memories. Graf had fought Minotaurs before. He’d been very careful about explaining the techniques best used for combating an opponent with such a vast physical advantage.
Grif supposed the Gryphon Empire was on campaign. It was the only explanation for why the Minotaurs would risk such an attack. The two races had fought since discovering the others’ existence. There was no way they’d risk weakening themselves on that front, unless something had the Gryphons occupied.
Grif took stock of the Minotaur corpses that dotted the area, though these were fewer and far between. He could see evidence where a tendon had been severed by a lucky hit, or what seemed more common, a Minotaur killed by a self-inflicted accident. Pensword’s scent became stronger as Grif finally found himself encroaching on what was left of a small hut. More than half of the wall had been taken out in the mayhem, and the thatching and thick sticks that formed the roof had collapsed and broken apart atop the piles of rock and dust. Amid the wreckage, a lone dark four-fingered hand jutted limply from a hefty pile of rocks. The scent of blood was strong, filling the Gryphon’s nose with its coppery tang as he stepped closer to the rock pile, easily batting the sticks aside with a few swipes of his talons. Pensword’s scent grew stronger, the closer he drew to the other end of the pile. A collapse along the side, paired with the familiar sight of drag marks set Grif’s heart to pounding. The occasional spatter of blood would dob the trail, not nearly enough to be from a serious wound, but enough to imply injury.
Grif tracked the drag marks out of the hut, only to find something that made his blood chill all the more. Lying on the path was a heap of scrap metal that Grif quickly recognized. As he examined the twisted and broken remains of the metal feathers and leather harness, it became only too clear these had once been a set of wingblades. And only one person would bear such a weapon in this country and this time period.
For a moment, Grif wanted to chase the kidnappers, but he knew from the scent that, while the trail wouldn’t necessarily have gone cold, by now, the Minotaurs were already regrouping. There’d be no way he could expect to catch up to them and still survive. He’d need help. He’d need an army.
Slowly, it dawned on Grif as he examined the mutilated compound that perhaps an army was want for the taking. Stowing the ruined blades for later, he made his way back into the hut. Pensword had killed the Minotaur. This much, he could tell. And as he removed the stones from the body, he confirmed the kill through the angle and depth of the cuts. When Grif located the Minotaur’s head, he examined the beast’s horns. Selecting the slightly longer of the two, he hefted Graf’s axe, lifted it above his head, and proceeded to lop the horn off. He picked up the horn as he sheathed the axe and retrieved one of his knives. Then, as he turned and left the hut, he began to bore into the inside of the horn to scoop out the bone and marrow within.
Vital Spark coughed and moaned as his eyes slowly came open. He felt something spew out his mouth and onto his barrel, which left him feeling rather disgusted, but at least he wasn’t dead. The warmth of the sun shone down on his coat and he smiled weakly. It felt so nice against his fur, even as the urge to cough forced him to flip over and heave his lungs again. He felt a pair of gentle hooves rubbing his back as his body forcefully ejected the contents of his chest and stomach both.
“That’s right. Get it out of your system,” a familiar voice said gently in Zwahili.
When Vital’s breathing finally returned to normal and he felt like his body wasn’t about to betray him again, he turned his head wearily towards a smiling Zebra. Her eyes flickered with a hint of mischief behind the cloud of concern that her furrowed brow cast over her face. “Zecora?” he huffed unsteadily.
“Yes. Are you all right?”
Vital nodded. “I … think so. At least, I’m pretty sure I will be.”
“Good.” Her hoof promptly slammed him into the ground, leaving him with a throbbing lump on his skull. “What were you thinking? You could have drowned!” Then she sobbed as she wrapped her forelegs around him in an iron-bound hug. “Don’t you ever do something like that again, you idiot!”
“Worth it,” Vital half gasped, half chuckled. “You’re a spoiled, bossy brat of a sister, but you’re my spoiled bossy brat of a sister.”
“Care for another to round out the set?” Zecora asked lightly.
“How about we just call it even?” Vital slowly pulled himself out of her embrace, and then his eyes locked onto the Zebra’s flanks. “Zecora, your stripes.”
“Is now really the time to jump into whether I’m white on black or black on white, Vital Spark?”
“No, Zecora, I mean look at your stripes. Your flanks!” he jabbed a hoof at her side.
Zecora turned her gaze back over to her flanks and her eyes widened in surprise. Her stripes had readjusted, leaving a patch of white accented by a spiral in black surrounded by a series of black triangles. “I’ve … I’ve been marked?” She gaped at the new symbol, flabbergasted. Then that slowly shifted into a toothy grin. “I’ve been marked!”
And suddenly, Vital Spark found himself once again in the mare’s vice-like grip as she laughed her delight. “Lungs … crushing. Can’t … breathe,” he gasped.
“Oh, don’t be so dramatic,” Zecora said, though she did loosen her grip somewhat.
Vital chuckled and smiled. “You think this is bad, you should see how I am with Grif.”
“Who?”
“Grif. Tall Gryphon, muscular, mostly black, with green feathers on his breast and crest?”
Zecora withdrew her forelegs in favor of looking appraisingly over the Unicorn. “Vital Spark, you never mentioned a Gryphon before, much less befriending one. They never journey this far south. Are you certain you didn’t hit your head in that spring?”
Now it was Vital’s turn to gape. “Sweet Celestia, they actually did it.”
“They who?”
“The waters, the spring, whatever you want to call it,” Vital said as he shook his head. “The waters are supposed to have healing powers, right?”
Zecora nodded.
“Well, I think they healed more than just our bodies.” Vital Spark grinned at his adopted sister. “I remember, Zecora. I actually remember! It’s spotty, but the holes are starting to fill in.” He laughed. “Wow. And I just had to face a whole herd of windigo to do it. Go figure.”
“Windi … what?” Zecora asked, confused.
“Windigo. They’re a type of storm spirit made of frost and cold. They feed on negative emotions, like anger, hate, sorrow, mistrust, that sort of thing. It makes them stronger. Then they use that energy to spread their frost and cold, choking the land, until it’s nothing but a frozen waste. That’s probably why they were drawn here, in the first place. You could cut the tension between a Zebra and a Minotaur with a knife, and Minotaurs thrive on tapping that kind of emotion. You said so, yourself. It’s the perfect feeding ground to flee to, after what happened to them in Equestria.” He rose and clopped along the surface of the room. “This is incredible!” Then he noticed the bodies lying on the stone and the smile immediately dropped off his face. “Oh.”
Zecora looked sadly at the prone forms. “Yes. Oh, indeed.” Unshed tears rose in her eyes. “Did … did those … windigo, you called them, right?”
Vital Spark nodded.
“Did they…?”
“Yeah,” Vital said sadly. “We should bury them, before their bodies decay too much. Once they thaw enough, it’s not going to be pleasant.”
Zecora nodded gently. “I’ll take care of it,” she said quietly.
“You sure you’re up for it? You just recovered from a broken back.”
“And you just escaped death by drowning. I’d say we’re about even.”
Vital sighed as he dropped his head. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”
Zecora sighed as well, then closed her eyes. When she opened them again, they glowed a vibrant green. “Come along now, children,” she said wistfully in a dual tone that echoed in the open cavern. “It’s time to return home.” She tapped her hoof gently on the stone and a crystalline chime sounded as the pictograms on the wall glowed an emerald green, pulsing gently with the waters of the spring. Slowly, the ground cracked open as thick root-like tendrils forced their way out of the earth and wrapped around each of the bodies. When all of them had been properly enfolded, the tendrils withdrew gently into the earth again, followed by the closing of the rock, leaving nary a seam behind. The glowing light faded from the walls, then from the spring, and finally from Zecora’s eyes. Her legs wobbled, and she nearly collapsed against Vital Spark’s frame.
Vital Spark wrapped a foreleg around the Zebra and smiled sadly. “Come on, Sis. Mwalimu’s waiting for us.”
The wind blew hot along the savanna, but for the first time in a very long time, the scent of moisture carried along the wind, and thick dark clouds hovered threateningly overhead. The very ground seemed to rasp imploringly with each step the harried Zebras took along the trail to the holy mountain. A series of litters and stretchers carried the wounded and the crippled as they drew nearer to their goal. The fact that they had survived had been nothing short of a miracle. The fact that troops from the other compounds had managed to escape unharmed bolstered their ranks, making the journey easier on their fellows. By the time they reached the foot of the mountain, they stood at a mere eight hundred, a fraction of their original numbers.
They made camp for the night on the higher grounds the mountain provided and waited out the storm that seemed to spread on as far as the eye could see. Mild flooding filtered across the plains as the parched earth struggled to absorb all the moisture at once. The next morning, the warriors made sure to serve their fellows a hearty breakfast of dew-studded long grass, before striking camp and proceeding through the last leg of their journey.
The sight that greeted them left the troops on edge as they approached. Minotaurs and Zebras were busy working together to rebuild the huts with a mixture of tree limbs and molded earth, while others worked to sculpt furrows in the ground under the tutelage of a familiar Unicorn levitating a bag of seeds in his magic. On noticing the approaching party, he quickly hoofed the bag over to one of the other Zebras, before racing into the heart of the village, where a great white cow sat on the wet ground with her legs folded, taking tea with an elderly Zebra and being attended by a young Zebra mare with the mark of a sun plastered on both sides of her flanks.
“Mwalimu, we may need to make plans to expand construction,” the Unicorn reported as he nodded his head respectfully to the cow. “We have guests.”
Mwalimu sighed wearily. “How many?”
“A lot more than we’ll be able to feed, that’s for sure,” Vital Spark said as the elderly Zebra took another sip from his cup. “I hope the spring’s waters are agreeing well with you,” he added.
Mwalimu smiled gratefully. “I should be well, soon enough. They may speed my healing, but I am still old.” He chuckled. “Thank you, Vital Spark.”
“And you, Miss Fjüra? Is everything to your liking?” Vital Spark asked.
“Thank you, young colt.” She turned to Mwalimu. “My people wish to express their horror, once again, at the actions of our late chieftain’s late son. The Long Horn tribe never wanted war.”
“That does beg the question, however. Who would have wanted to arrange for us to enter into such a conflict in the first place and have the resources necessary to make it appear as though we were trying to kill you?”
“My people made assumptions, due to the hoof marks found near the sight. They were too shallow to be Minotaurs, so the most logical explanation was that Zebras must have been involved,” the cow said. “Our bulls are fierce, but not always the brightest,” she smirked.
“Can anyone describe these imprints in greater detail?” Vital asked.
“They were hoof prints” the cow shrugged. “Not split like ours, but rounded, like yours.”
“No distinctive markings or unusual shapes?”
“I suppose, from the way they mentioned some of the indentations, it’s possible they were wearing shoes.”
“Do you still have the arrow that killed your chief?”
“All I was given was this,” she said, producing the small stone arrowhead.
“It should be enough for a start, at least,” Vital said as he peered over it carefully. Assuming it didn’t get stolen from an armory, which I’m fairly certain it wasn’t, it should be able to lead us to the shooter. As for any potential collaborators, that will rely on whether we can get the killer to talk.”
“Much though I would like to have the killer found as well, shouldn’t we be focusing on the greater threat of the invasion?” Zecora asked. “The land is deeply disturbed, even after the spring was exorcised. Something is forcing it to stir.”
“I fear the head bull won’t stop, even with our assurances” the cow said. “They know the wall can be breached now, and it’s only a matter of time before it is. Young Steelsinger sent smoke signals to start the attack shortly after his father died.”
“A shame I have made that more ... difficult for them, then,” a voice called from the shadows. After a moment, a tall tan Earth Pony in a blue coat with golden stitch strode easily towards the group. “Bit more than I expected,” he commented in Equestrian as he scanned the individuals there, settling on Vital with a small smile and a nod of acknowledgement.
“Hammer Strike?” Vital replied, then smiled as he approached his friend and embraced him. “What took you so long?”
“I had to manually create a tunnel through time,” he replied in Draconic, while rolling his eyes. “It’s not exactly an easy process; nor have I had time to refine it.[/]”
“Did you come alone?”
Hammer Strike shook his head. “I brought Grif and Pensword, though we currently have an issue with Pensword, being that he is currently missing and/or kidnapped.”
There was a metallic clank as, from somewhere above them, a bunch of mangled metal fell to the ground nearby. One of the still-sharp tips dug into the ground, holding it upright. A moment later, Grif landed nearby. A leather strip was currently wrapped across his neck, connected to a larger ring that held the strip to a long curved hollow horn. The Gryphon’s eyes were hard, and Vital could feel a storm brewing behind them. Silently, he made his way over to the Unicorn and pulled him in for a hug. “Glad to see you’re okay,” he said in Draconic. “I need to speak to them. Can you translate?”
“Maybe after I call them off?” Vital suggested in Equish. The pair suddenly found themselves surrounded by a mixture of spears, battle axes, and war clubs. Grif eyed the weapons with a casual air he lifted a wing and flapped it once. In a instant, the wind picked up around them in a downdraft so powerful even the Minotaurs found their weapons clattering to the ground. Grif released Vital and stepped away.
Vital cleared his throat. “These two are my friends from Equestria. This is Grif Grafson, of the Northern Isles. He is independent from the Empire and has sworn his allegiance to Lord Hammer Strike, the Earth Pony you see before you. Many of you know him by the title of Celestia’s Ghost,” he said in Zwahili.
“The one you told me about up on the mountain?” Zecora asked.
Vital nodded. “The very same. Be careful. He’s a master of trolling, and he’s not afraid to pull any punches.”
Grif looked around to the various creatures around him. Reaching into his pack, he pulled out a flask and poured some liquid into the horn at his chest. “Something of mine,” he said in Equestrian, before moving over to the tea and filling the horn the rest of the way. “Something of yours.” He took a swig from the horn and offered it to Mwalimu. “Your enemy is my enemy. I can’t rescue my friend with just the two of us, and your soldiers need further training, before you can defend yourselves.”
Vital Spark translated dutifully.
“I can help you,” Grif continued. “They seek to take your lives, and they have taken my friend. I can show you how to beat them.” He gestured to Hammer Strike. “We can show you how to beat them, how to make them think twice, before returning to attack you again. Apart, we cannot do much, but together, we will win. This horn was taken from an enemy Minotaur slain by my abducted comrade. Those who share a drink before a war are brothers on the battlefield. Something of yours and something of mine. Will we be brothers?”
“Does this offer also stand for the Longhorns?” Mwalimu asked.
“Provided they are willing to provide assurance of their loyalty,” Grif responded. “I cannot ignore that they are of the species of our enemy, but neither can I condemn them on that alone.” Grif never took his eyes off the chieftain and cow as he spoke. “If my trustworthiness is still in doubt, call the survivors from the wall. Ask them, and they will tell you that I saved them. Go to the healer’s tent. There is a Zebra near the back. He’d have died from being gored, if not for us. Trust me, and I will save your people.”
“What assurance would you ask?” Fjüra asked.
“A hostage,” Grif said bluntly, “someone of reasonable importance. They will be treated well and returned unharmed, when our business is done, so long as you keep your honor.”
“There is only one who would fit such criteria, and she is the current leader. Without her guidance, it may be possible for the bulls to fall into a rampage again,” Mwalimu noted.
Grif looked to Hammer Strike. An unspoken request shot through the air between them. Scare them?
A gleam of gold appeared in Hammer Strike’s eyes as a dome of solar fire suddenly formed around them, perfectly dividing them from the others. There were no openings, no form of escape. Overall, it was a perfect cage.
“What is the meaning of this?” Mwalimu demanded angrily as Zebras and Minotaurs alike galloped and charged toward the barrier, before the unrelenting heat forced them to halt their advance.
“A demonstration,” Grif said. “Should the Minotaurs lose themselves again, we have ways to contain them. Do you truly believe your people will be able to hold out alone? There is only so far you can run, after all.”
“We will agree to the hostage,” Fjüra spoke up, before Mwalimu had a chance to rebut. “Our brethren also have the spirits of the earth allied with them.” She looked to the chieftain. “These two have the spirits of the sun and sky at their beck and call, we need them.” She grabbed the horn from Grif’s hand and took a drink, before shoving it to Mwalimu. “If my cooperation is required as collateral, then so be it.”
“Fjüra….”
Zecora laid her hoof gently on Mwalimu’s shoulder. “Father, it’s what she wants.”
Mwalimu sighed in defeat. “I’m getting too old for this,” he muttered, not for the first time, as he took the horn and drank, then passed it back to Grif.
“Then let us get this started,” Grif said as he drained the horn of the remainder. “Now, for starters, we need to break this camp and move farther inland. This village is an easy target. How fast can your people move?”
“With the aid of the spring’s healing waters, most of us have fully recovered. The remainder of us can be ready to leave in a day.”
“Good. I’ll also need volunteers, anyone that can fight and is willing to. Your forces are too depleted right now. As soon as I have those numbers, I can begin dividing them into groups and working out camp rosters. As soon as we find a safe place for your children and elderly, Hammer Strike will be able to help with getting your people ready. I’ll be rotating groups, so many squads will be training. The others will be for strikes.”
“I would need a group for excavating ore, if you want proper equipment. Beyond that, I will probably need to make a forge,” Hammer Strike noted.
“We already sent the others along to the rainforests. Zecora saw them off herself.” He looked reproachfully at the mare. “And then came back against my wishes.”
For the first time in Vital Spark’s memory, the mare actually looked sheepish. He let his jaw drop in surprise for a few seconds, before a quick slap across the face from Grif allowed him to regain his focus and resume translating.
“We’ll have none of that. My own species is gender biased enough for each of ours,” Grif said. “If mares wish to fight, then that's their choice.”
“Um, for the record, Grif, they’re not actually gender biased,” Vital clarified. “They choose their field, based on the guidance they receive from the spirits. It’s a lot like how Ponies are with their cutie marks. Each mark helps them to identify where their talents would be most useful.”
“Well, the Zecora I remember could wrestle us both into submission without much effort,” Grif said with a wink to the Unicorn. Then he turned to address Mwalimu again. “I realize your people are herbivores, but do you eat eggs?” he asked. “We may have to scavenge, if times get rough.”
“We generally stick to a strict diet of fruits and other greens,” Mwalimu clarified, “though we are capable of hunting. Bayek would be able to tell you who is left among the warriors with the training, assuming he survived.”
Vital Spark winced. He hadn’t considered that possibility. How many friends had he lost in this war? How many more would die, before they saw its end?
Grif nodded. “I’ll seek him out myself, later. For now, let's get prepared to move. People will probably need help, so let's see if we can speed things along.” With a nod from Grif, Hammer Strike dropped the barrier. “Vital, I’m going to need you for a bit longer.”
“I assume you want me to introduce you to Bayek?” the Unicorn asked.
“I also don’t speak Zebrican,” Grif pointed out. “Or Minos, for that matter.”
“The latter is actually a lot easier to learn than you’d think. I can teach you later, if you’d like.”
“Maybe, but for now, I need to know more about how this culture works, and you’ve had more time with them than any of us, so get talking.”
“Bayek!” Vital Spark practically tackled the older stallion in his rush to embrace him. “Thank goodness, you’re safe.”
Bayek laughed. “It is good to see you again, Vital Spark. By the spirits’ grace and the helping hoof of a certain magician, we were able to escape with our wounded.”
“You knew it was magic?”
“I am older, Vital Spark, not stupid,” Bayek chuckled. “That kind of power can only be unleashed by a Unicorn or someone capable of commanding the spirits of air and fire to work together. That is no simple task, I assure you, so it must be the former.”
“He’s an Earth Pony, actually,” Vital Spark said. “I can introduce you later, if you’d like. For now, another of my friends wishes to become acquainted. He’s asked that I translate, since he doesn’t speak the language.”
“Oh? And does this mean you have recovered your memories?”
“Yup,” Vital grinned. “Which means I remembered a few tricks, too. If you thought I had potential before, wait till you see what I can do now.”
Bayek laughed. “I’m looking forward to it. But tell me, who is this friend of yours that is so anxious to meet me?”
Grif stepped out from behind a tent and offered his talons to the Zebra. “Grif Bladefeather. I hear you’re the stallion too see about military issues.”
“I am but one,” Bayek clarified, “but until we are able to take full account of the others, I suppose that would leave me as the main leader. What do you seek?”
“As soon as you know, I need to know how many of your more experienced fighters, preferably officers, are around. I’m also going to need you to see who, if any, will fight. With your forces depleted, we’re going to need as many volunteers as possible, if we’re going to turn this war in our favor,” Grif told him.
“We don’t have officers, but I will look for any of our more experienced fighters that survived. If you are looking to find recruits, however, that may have to wait, until we reach the rainforest to join the rest of the elders and council. We will also find warriors and hunters who were stationed at the other villages across the savannah. That should help to bolster our forces and aid in any attempts to train volunteers.”
“We’ll need to split our available fighters up into smaller groups,” Grif said. “The Minotaurs will have a harder time moving through the jungle than we will. We can use that, cut them off, and kill them in groups, without being seen. How much do you train in guerrilla warfare?”
“How do you hunt a lion, Grif Bladefeather?” Bayek smirked. “You do not make a sound.”
“The difference, my friend is that the way your used to it. If the lion figures out you’re there, then the lion attacks.” Grif smirked. “When the lion figures out I’m there, the lion runs. We’ll engage in guerilla warfare, once all your non-combatants are safe. Small groups will be divided in different areas. Half will fight, half will prepare. There is no winning in a sustained war. We’ll take only as long as we need to get your people ready for open field combat.”
“And you intend to show the best means for us to counter our opponents,” Bayek reasoned. “Being a Gryphon, you would be inherently knowledgeable of such things.”
“You are well informed.” Grif nodded. “They have taken a friend of mine. I have reason to believe he’s still alive. Why, I’m not sure, but I intend to rescue him. If that means saving your people, then it would seem our interests align, don’t they?”
“For now, at least,” Bayek agreed. “But if you do happen to choose to turn against us, you know we will fight to the last.”
“If you know anything about Gryphons, you should know honor is paramount,” Grif said. “Now, what can you tell me about the last attacks that happened?”
“Simply put, the Minotaurs forced the escarpment apart using their combined wills to strike at the rock and keep it open, afterwards. It would have taken a great deal of effort and continual concentration. That divider has been there for centuries, created by the will of the land itself. It does not like being forced. Once they passed through, they charged us in the middle of our exercises. We had time enough to arm ourselves, but as you are aware, a battle with a Minotaur is generally a war of attrition. It was a war that could not be won, while reinforcements continued to flood us. That is often the Minotaur’s strategy, overwhelm by force. When they say strength of arms, they aren’t talking about their weapons.” Bayek shrugged. “You are aware of what came after.”
“Yes, but they tend to be weaker, when it comes to ranged combat.” Grif smiled. “That bow just for show, or can you use it?”
“We train in every weapon at our disposal, Grif Bladefeather,” Bayek said seriously.
“What's your effective range?” Grif asked.
“A goodly distance. Analyzing your Equestrian construction has allowed us to make several innovations in our own bow designs. I would guess the minium would be approximately two hundred of your yards, give or take.”
Grif nodded. “Yeah, ponies can make a decent bow; for ponies, anyway,” Grif chuckled. “Still, with Hammer Strike’s help, I think we’ll be able to do a little better than that, at least on a larger scale.”
“Is that so? I would be most interested to meet with this Hammer Strike.”
“You’ll have your chance, possibly on the road, or possibly when he needs to outfit you.” Grif shrugged. “Will you be ready to travel?”
“It isn’t me you should be worried about,” Bayek said. “The wounded will be our main priority.”
“Of course. Do everything you can for them, but keep in mind that we must leave as soon as we can. It could mean the difference between us setting a trap for the Minotaurs or them doing the opposite to us.”
“I recommend checking on the wounded, then. At worst, a means will need to be devised to carry them swiftly and safely. The makeshift stretchers we utilized before were shoddy work at best.”
“Use whatever you need.” Grif nodded. “I’ll see what I can do to get things moving for you.”
“Then I will leave you to your tour,” Bayek said. “I assume you and your friend have much catching up to do.”
“Until we meet again.” Grif nodded, and the two departed the Zebra’s company.
The first thing that Pensword felt was thirst, followed soon after by a splitting headache. A distinctive swaying rocked him gently back and forth, leaving him with a queasy stomach as the world spun around him. He scrunched his eyes closed to try to focus himself. It didn’t help much, but he grit his teeth anyways and opened his eyes again. White light seared his pupils as the cruel sun reflected off of cracked white earth and the occasional small mound of sand, where scorpions and other little creatures had made their nests. A series of grunts, snorts, and lowing soon alerted him he was not alone, even as the dark lines he thought to be after-images from the sun gradually solidified into solid stone bars. There could be only one logical explanation, and he had to bite back a low growl as it finally sunk in.
Pensword was a prisoner.
Ever the resourceful soldier that he was, he knew the best thing to do would be to get his bearings. Unfortunately, everything in the desert looked almost exactly the same. About the only noticeable landmark lay behind, getting steadily smaller the more his captors carried on. The massive escarpment practically blazed with light, almost like there were another sun. Hammer Strike’s handiwork, no doubt.
Pensword winced as a particularly nasty swing forced him to try to steady himself. His wings flared instinctively, and pain soon followed as the burning muscle and swollen flesh protested his actions. He would need to keep the offending joint imobile for now. Since the sun was so bright, he squinted, reducing his vision, but also giving at least a degree of relief to his aching eyes. His ears swiveled as he put his efforts into his other senses to detect his situation. Logic dictated that he had to be in a litter of some kind, considering the swaying. His ears soon picked up on the pole bearers’ snorts and heavy clops as their hooves struck against the dry earth. Further concentration revealed the familiar clink of leather bandoliers and nose rings, informing him of at least three others. A harsh bellow soon called them to a stop, and Pensword swiftly laid his head low against the floor of his cage as his captors gathered round.
One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six.
Six others. The cage dropped carefully to the ground as the warriors changed positions. In a matter of seconds, they were moving again, and a few raucous laughs sounded as the bulls exchanged in their manner. Pensword tried to follow it, but it soon became apparent just how futile such an effort would be. If he wanted anything from them, he would need to use gestures. This … was not going to be pleasant.
A few more hours passed in the silence as the sun baked the salt and sweat from Pensword’s hide. His breathing became raspy and he gasped, warring with his pride and his survival instincts. Fortunately for him, he didn’t have to choose. The sound of stone grating against sand ground in his ears as he wavered in his consciousness.
Two burly arms reached into the cage and forced his mouth open. His vision was so blurred, he couldn’t make out his jailers, but he did recognize the taste of life-giving water readily. He choked at the first slosh into his mouth, and coughed weakly. The spasms triggered more pain in his wing, but he was too weak to do anything about it. The process repeated itself three more times, followed by a hard rock that was shoved into his mouth and pressed against his tongue, before his mouth was held shut.
The first thing he recognized was the strong, bitter flavor of pure rock salt. The second thing he realized was how fast his mouth salivated over it. The third thing he noticed was a sudden giddiness flooding through his body. The blurry face of one of the bulls snorted at him and its eyes slowly came into focus as they stared into his own. The rational side of the warrior knew he should play possum, try to look like they’d nearly killed him. It would delay them and potentially provide a means for him to escape. But … whatever they’d given him left him feeling inflamed. A flicker of defiance licked in his slitted eyes as he looked right back at his captor, unblinking. He bore his fangs and let loose a weak hiss.
He couldn’t be sure with the light and his swimming vision, but Pensword thought he saw a smile cross that creature’s face. A few seconds later, a great bucket-like bowl grew out from the base of his prison. The Minotaur dropped a few more of the crystals into the vessel, followed by the familiar splash of more water as the bowl began to fill and the mineral to dissolve. So fascinated was he by this magic that he didn’t even notice the bonds forming around his fore and back hooves, until it was too late.
Lastly, his captor tied a rope around the vessel and then looped it around the hybrid’s neck, before pulling it tight. Now the Pony’s movement would be hampered, but not to the point of being unable to take sustenance, when the need arose. He sighed as his stomach raised its own complaints. Unfortunately, while the water was forthcoming, the hands did not come again with food.
Pensword sighed as he craned his neck back toward the wall again. It would only be a matter of time, before the others came searching for him. He just had to hope he could find a way to leave some clues behind. With that need firmly in mind, he put himself to work formulating a plan.
It took the group eleven days to reach their destination. They moved as far as they could in the span of a single day, with groups switching off transporting the wounded to relieve the burden and avoid heat exhaustion. Even so, it was a slow trek. Grif and Hammer Strike took turns covering the rear and scouting ahead. During this time, they’d managed to encounter several groups of Bayek’s warriors, who had been waiting for orders to arrive about where to regroup. Foraging and hunting parties were sent ahead of them by noon every day. Still, food was relatively scarce, which forced them to ration what they had carefully. Water, fortunately, was much more available, thanks to Vital Spark’s ability to pull the moisture from the air in ice form.
“What's the name of this place again?” Grif asked Vital as they approached the village in the distance.
“There are multiple names for them, really. The Two Sisters is usually the most common title to refer to them,” the Unicorn explained.
“What's the layout? Is it defensible?”
“The one in the savannah probably isn’t. It’s a fairly large compound spread wide over the fields. There isn’t anything to obscure or protect it, no natural barriers. We’ll probably find everyone holed up in the other village deep in the jungle. I can show you the way. While there’s still life in the forest, it’ll act to protect our tribes.”
“You’re not going to like what I have to say,” Grif grimaced.
“If you’re going to suggest chopping down the trees, you can stop right there. None of the tribes will do it, and I won’t either. The weapons we use are gifts from the trees of the plains and the forest, willingly offered.”
“That would be stupid,” Grif scoffed. “We’re going to need as much cover as we can afford.” He glanced at his friend. “I was going to say you need to scavenge any leftover resources left on the fields, take as much seed as you can, and burn whatever's left. Stop up the wells, if you have any. We don’t need our enemies having access to food and water at your expense.”
“That would require destroying the baobab trees.” Vital shook his head. “That’s how we draw our water from the land. That being said, the Minotaurs may not know that. If we can obscure any signs of the way we harvest the water, it should accomplish the same end. As for the fields, that should be a simple thing to manage. The remainder of the fields will probably have already been harvested for whatever viable pieces are left, but I’ll check one more time.” Vital Spark sighed. “It’s a pity we’ll have to burn all of this, though, but I suppose it’s better this way. It’ll make for good soil for the next crop, and the drought has reduced most of the fields to little more than glorified tinder.”
“Every advantage, Vital. It will take a while, before the Zebras are ready for open combat. After that, we’ll be pushing into the Minotaurs’ territory. The longer we buy ourselves, the more time we have to make sure things go our way.”
“You won’t be getting arguments from me there. A lot of the Zebras already know how to fight to a certain extent, with their shamanistic training. You may have to cycle between instructors, so they can learn to incorporate those arts into other fighting styles and skills, like you did when you channeled your spiritual energy into that slicing attack. By the way, when did you start sneaking off to take those lessons with Zecora, anyway?”
“About the middle of last summer,” Grif shrugged. “I figured the ability to punch somebody in the face from thirty feet away without magic might just give me an advantage,” he winked.
“Ah, you got that far, did you? Of course, I suppose part of that has to do with your spiritual nature as well,” Vital mused. “Admittedly, with the spring back to normal, it’s only a matter of time, before the land rejuvenates enough for the Minotaurs to find food again. We’ll need to be able to act before that happens.”
“Fortunately, the advantage here is that these Zebras know the land better than the Minotaurs do. Once the non-combatants are safe, we’ll be splitting them up into small teams with rapid strikes all over the spectrum. Then they’ll vanish back into the jungle. With any luck, it will keep them on edge.” Grif smiled. “Speaking of edges, I see you’ve acquired a few yourself,” he said, holding up one of Vital’s hunga munga to examine. “Crude, but efficient.”
“And very good at catching multiple targets, if thrown properly,” Vital agreed. “Just don’t take my staff,” he warned. “It … was a parting gift from a friend.”
“Must have been someone important,” Grif noted. “It’s still alive, after all.”
“Yeah. He was an avatar, if you can believe it.” A tear rolled down the Unicorn’s cheek. “He helped me to adapt to being a part of the culture here.”
Grif retrieved Graf’s axe and smiled at his friend. “Would you believe I know exactly how you feel?”
“I think I can manage that, provided you don’t troll me for the next month or two,” Vital said with a hint of a smile.
“No can do. I’ve got at least a year of backlog to catch up on,” Grif chuckled as he handed the hunga munga back. “I hope you’re ready to use that.”
“Grif, they’re threatening my home and my sister, and from what Fjüra has said, their current head bull is a bloodthirsty monster. I’m going to have to kill, whether I want to or not. One advantage we have is the fact that I can conjure some interesting ways to get around the whole issue with their hides.”
“Well, their armpits and hamstrings are still tender areas. It’s just a matter of being quick and precise. Don’t give them a chance to hit back, unless you’re Hammer Strike, of course. Pretty sure they’d break their fists,” Grif chuckled.
“Accurate,” Hammer Strike commented.
“So, what are your thoughts on their warriors? Are we going to be able to make them soldiers?” Grif chuckled.
“I’ll have to figure out a proper training schedule to keep things moving, on top of equipping them.”
“Their style is different, but it is tailored for dealing with Minotaurs, so a few minor alterations and superior tools will go a long way in helping them to turn the tide,” Vital Spark noted.
“Their tactics need work, Vital,” Grif said.
“Some of theirs do. Others have it down already,” Vital disagreed. “I can direct you to the more qualified leaders, if you’d like.”
“Hammer Strike, you likely saw a few of them in combat. What’s your verdict here?” Grif asked.
“They’re using old tactics. We can modernize it somewhat and ensure a better standing. Until then, by my standard, their tactics are mediocre,” Hammer Strike replied simply.
“Even Bayek’s?”
“There is no law of averages here,Vital. One exception doesn’t change the rule,” Grif sighed.
“I wasn’t going against your assessment as a military expert, Grif. I just wanted to make sure Bayek was given the credit I felt he deserved. That’s all.”
“Besides, there aren't enough warriors here. We’ll need to open up the opportunity to fight to anyone of proper age,” Grif noted.
“I don’t know how many will want to join, but given our options, I don’t see we have much choice,” Vital agreed.
“Anything on the mythical spectrum we should look out for?” Grif asked. “My mythology for this part of the world is a bit rusty.”
“As far as I’m aware, in this part of the world, it’s just the spirits you have to watch out for. I have heard tell of things like giant snakes and a few other creatures that supposedly lived in the desert to the north, but we don’t exactly have a way to verify them, unless we talk with the Minotaurs about it.”
“Knowing how things typically go, I’ll prepare things accordingly,” Hammer Strike commented with a faint frown.
“Well then, let's get those who can broken up and start packing up supplies. Perhaps there are resources here to build a few wagons or something. The faster we get started, the sooner we get finished,” Grif said as they finally approached the edge of the village.
“They’d only last us so long, before the forest became too thick to journey through, but I think we can manage it for the first leg, at least,” Vital said. “Let me show you to the materials sheds.”
“Grif, allow me to introduce you to a couple of old friends of mine,” Vital Spark said as he led a bulky Zebra warrior and a taller, lean one with a dead eye into the hut that had become their base of operations. “This is Waangalifu and his commanding officer, Kisasi. They were part of my escort when I first arrived in these parts, so both are well acquainted with the terrain and the routes within the jungles.”
“Hello, gentlemen.” Grif nodded respectfully to each of them. “I hope you’re both raring for some payback.”
“They killed our friends. What do you think?” Waangalifu said hotly.
“Easy, colt. I told you to watch that temper,” Kisasi said.
“I want you to understand something. To my understanding, Zebrica has had a standing army, but no real threats to its sovereignty.” Grif didn’t yell or glare at Waangalifu as he talked, but his tone was icy. “I need to be sure there will be no hesitation on what’s asked, no matter how bad it may seem. I will have prisoners executed. I will have prisoners tortured.” Grif looked into the young Zebra’s eyes. “You think you’re angry? You have yet to see the apocalyptic amounts of fury I will be unloading on our enemies.”
“You really don’t know how bad he can get, Waangalifu,” Vital warned. “Trust me, he means what he says. His anger is like a gale; swift, targeted, and incredibly powerful.”
“In short, what a warrior’s wrath should be,” Kisasi said as he looked to Waangalifu. “You take it, you hone it, and you put it to good use, without letting it consume you.”
Waangalifu remained silent as he continued to hold his gaze with Grif.
“We’re going to be separating all warriors and volunteers into groups,” Grif said, turning to Kisasi. “Half will be staying here to learn about open field combat with Hammer Strike. The other half will be splitting into groups overseen by me, and then we’ll begin hunting. We're going to use the jungle as our weapon. We’ll need traps. I don’t care how they’re made, as long as they’re efficient. I’ll also need maps of the area and notes on local predators.”
“You’ll have them,” Kisasi promised. “The jungle has many natural dangers as it stands. You might consult with the herbalists on where might be the most advantageous places to lure any enemy forces. As for talk of the local predators, I’ll find the warriors assigned to hunt for the village here. They should be able to give you the details you require.”
“Thank you.” Grif turned to the other Zebra and laid his talons gently on his back. “We’ll have our revenge, my friend, but you need to trust me.” He looked into Waangalifu’s eyes. “Who did they take from you?”
“Grif,” Vital said in Draconic, “they’re trained like Marines. Every soldier is a brother, and they’re loved as brothers.”
“You want blood?” Grif asked the Zebra.
“I want justice.”
“Then be ready,” Grif told him as he placed a dagger in one of his hooves. “Because what is just will not always be what is kind.” He turned his head to Vital. “We’re done with this group. Where’s the next one?”
“Bayek is rounding them up as we speak. When were you planning to give the speech to recruit the other mares and colts?”
“You said that they were all brothers. Is that true for the whole tribe?” Grif asked as they walked away and the two Zebras took their leave with a kindly dismissal from Vital Spark.
“For the warriors and hunters, yes. As for the various tribes and villages, it varies from Zebra to Zebra. However, as a whole, we are a lot closer than most residents in Equestria. It is a unity born out of necessity to survive on the Savannah, but for many it leads to more.”
“Then I’ll speak to them as soon as you introduce me. Your support will probably mean more to them than a creature of a species many of them have never seen before, and I’m asking something of them that I only want those who believe they can act to offer me. The Minotaurs won’t take being pushed back. We’re going to have to knock on the doors of Labyrinthian itself for this to end.”
“We’ll need some serious power to aid us, then, especially if that’s where they took Pensword. The Minotaurs worship powerful entities, very strong, very ancient, and they reside in that city, or at least near it. If we don’t find a counter to that, then we might as well be walking into a slaughter.”
“We have the Winds’ support, and we have Shiva’s, from what I gathered from your story. Don’t the Zebras have their own gods?”
“Shiva was a one-time deal. She won’t let me call on her again without a formal contract, and you know I’m not versed in the means to establish such a bond. Clover would flay me alive, if I tried. As for the Zebras and any gods they worship, the closest thing I can think of is Gaia, and you know she has to remain neutral in these kinds of matters.”
“Then I suppose we’ll have to count on Hammer Strike having an answer to that,” Grif shrugged. “Anyway, can you take me to the elders? I noticed something earlier in their eyes that I wanted to discuss.”
“By all means. Vital the diplomat at your service,” the Unicorn said with a slight bow.
“Then let's go.”
Pensword slowly came to from his latest nap. A dull ache throbbed in the back of his head and he immediately went to the briny water in his bowl to quell it. When he had drank his fill, he lowered himself to the floor of his cage and let the fluid work its way through his system, filling him with that pleasant tingling buzz to massage the ache away. He smiled as the briny scent of his most recent makeshift meal danced over his nose to mingle with the wet scent of fresh mud. He hiccupped, despite himself, as his eyes were drawn to the sight of curling smoke in the distance. Soon the great lowing of his captors filled his ears as they sounded that almost monastic call to carry across the intervening space to the waiting ears of warriors in the distance. An answering cry soon followed. The day wore on, and Pensword continued to partake in the rations his hosts shoved his way. Occasionally, a piece of dried meat would be added with his dose of salt water, and he would relish in the flavor and sense of substance in his stomach, rather than the sloshing of liquid he’d been putting up with for so long.
The air was heavy with the scent of the ocean as day slowly gave way to night and the escort finally arrived at a towering stone gate with a broad arch and a series of clawing hands and glaring bull heads staring down disapprovingly at all who sought entry. It was the fourth settlement of its kind. Brutish berzerkers they may have been, but at least this herd of bovines knew the necessity of a proper outpost and supply chain. Unfortunately, that also served to unnerve the commander. These Bovines appeared to be a mixture of Scandinavian Vikings with the logistics of Colonial Portugal. That would prove troublesome to the others, should they seek to mount a rescue. Not impossible, but certainly troublesome.
Pensword sighed in relief as his cage was finally deposited inside a thick white building not unlike the pueblos of the western deserts back on Earth. Thanks to the white coloration of the stone and the thickness of the walls, the interior was surprisingly cool, making it the perfect place for him to rest. A cursory glance along the room revealed walls of cages filled with song birds and other animals that had apparently been captured before him, most likely through hunting trips and other means. That being said, the fact that he was being placed with these creatures meant that his captors viewed him as little more than an animal. Was this how they treated all of their prisoners, or were they actually hoping to sell him off as some sort of pet? His eyes widened as another thought struck him, and he shuddered. They wouldn’t really try to breed him, would they?
Then again, that didn’t really matter right now. What did matter was the fact he was more comfortable now. The sun wouldn’t bake him to death. He laid his head back down to rest, even as the songs and growls from the animals faded into the background, while the creatures acquired his scent. A funny little vision danced through his head as the salt really started to hit his system. Grif stood before him, positively swarmed by songbirds. With a sharp whistle, the birds turned their attentions to the guards and darted in for the attack, while others picked his lock. Was it outlandish? Certainly, but Pensword found himself warming up to the idea. Ah, outlandish, such a funny word. Almost before he was aware of it, a series of drunken giggles joined the cacophony of cries from the other birds and creatures. He was soon joined by a quintet of hyenas yelping and laughing in their mischievous way. As Pensword’s rationality began to fade again, he couldn’t help but wonder what he would be like, when the others found him again and the war was over.
But, of course, that didn’t matter anymore. What mattered was that beautiful leopard sitting across from him and up two shelves. He couldn’t help but smirk at the thought of taming it, while the shoulder guards on his armor morphed into gaudy epaulettes and the remainder of his garb transformed into the brilliant red coat of a ringmaster. Yes, what a wonderful addition it would make to his circus.
He giggled again as the darkness slowly took him and he surrendered to the pull of his dreams.
Vital Spark watched with an experienced eye as the new recruits raised their bows and looked down range.
“Archers, load your arrows!” he called
The Zebras fumbled slightly as they worked to nock the projectiles, and Vital Spark sighed.
“You’ll need to be faster than that, if you intend to succeed,” he said bluntly. The whole point of the arrow fire is to cover our troops as they attack from the ground. Speed and accuracy are key, especially if you intend to help fell enough enemies that you can reclaim your arrows later,” Vital noted. “Lower your bows and remove the arrows. We’re going to keep practicing those movements, until they become as natural to you as breathing.”
A series of light groans rose from the gathered equines.
“Hey, be grateful you’re not stuck with Grif right now. He wouldn’t be so nice about it,” Vital noted bluntly. “Now, let’s try again, with a little more effort this time. Archers, take your positions….”
A half hour later, the Zebra recruits stood before the Gryphon himself. The predator grinned unsettlingly at them as Vital Spark stood by his side to translate.
“Now, can any of you tell me why anything within arm’s reach of a Minotaur is a bad idea?” Grif asked.
A mare raised her hoof somewhat timidly. “Because most of their strength lies in their upper body?”
“Very good.” Grif nodded. “To an almost ridiculous degree, Minotaurs are physically stronger than all other known races. If they can hit you, then, most likely, they can kill you. Can any of you tell me where the best areas to aim on a minotaur would be?”
Nopony raised a hoof this time.
“Minotaurs walk on two hooves. As you know, this means they place a lot of weight on their calf and hamstring muscles. The skin is thinner there, and if you can pierce those muscles, … did someone say timber? They are also weak in the pits of both arms and especially on the throat. An equine or a Gryphon will bleed out in four seconds, if their throat’s slit. A Minotaur will be dead in just over two. Their hearts work harder than ours do, and their blood pumps at a much higher pressure,” the Gryphon explained. “Now, can someone tell me how we might hit these areas, without putting ourselves in danger?”
“Traps, Sir?” one of the colts asked.
“That's a great start. What kind of trap would you use?” Grif pressed
“Perhaps something to trip them?”
“That's a start, but can you think of ways to make it more efficient? It would be a big waste of time, if you weren't around when they tripped,” Grif pointed out.
“Would tranquilizers or poisons have any effect, if we can apply them safely?” a different colt asked.
“Yes, but you’d need either a very sharp dart or a very well aimed one. Minotaur skin is very thick, remember? Still, it’s best to keep towards poison, and not tranquilizers. Unfortunately, we cannot afford to bring back survivors. Can anyone tell me what we can do amongst the tree cover that Minotaurs cannot?” Grif asked.
“Um, … duck into the underbrush?”
“And?” Grif asked.
Nothing but the loud cry of the cicada answered.
“Minotaurs cannot move quickly in heavy brush, for one thing,” Grif started. “They can’t fit in or under cramped spaces. And one advantage my people have exploited for centuries is they have distinct trouble looking up more than a few degrees. Over the next few weeks, we’re going to be learning the best way to exploit weaknesses like these and the best types of traps to use to cut their numbers down.
Now, I understand most of you feel you need to be here, but I am making this offer to you. If anyone here feels they do not have the ability to be responsible for the death of another being, you may leave now and no one will judge you for it. War is not what songs or stories make it sound like. War is hell, and I can’t guarantee your safety. So now is the time, if you feel the need to back out.”
Nopony did.
“All right, pair up! Groups of five or less. When you do so, Vital Spark will hand each group a series of trap schematics. Each of you will have three hours to impress me.” Grif looked out at all of them. “Lethality is key here, people. Don’t hold back.”
Meanwhile, on the far edge of the village, Hammer Strike was hard at work. With the return of the balance to the land, the spirits had been only too happy to assist in what little ways their reduced power allowed as the earth worked to regenerate itself and its resources. The new kiln and forge both blazed hot as piles of ore, gems, and other materials were gradually harvested and sorted by the Zebra scavengers that had paired with shamans for guidance to the best deposits.
A bellow not unlike the halloo of a horn jostled Pensword out of his sleep. He groaned in frustration, having hoped to sleep most of the blazing day away and replenish his fluids that night. A great towering wall rose several stories into the air, its black basalt staring bleakly with its wind-torn surface. A few moments later, the leader of their party stepped forward and knocked against the wall three times. On the third knock, a pulsing red slit of light rose up from the base of the structure, then broke into two portions to form a great sphere, before meeting again and running back up the rest of the structure. Within the sphere, more lines stretched and etched into the form of a great bull superimposed atop a miniature labyrinth. Then the sphere spun with the sound of heavily grating stone and the portions of the wall swept ponderously open to reveal a broad path straight ahead.
Pensword glanced to either side of him, taking note of the many openings, twists, and turns that awaited, should his captors choose to take the paths. But why would anyone choose to take them, when the way into the city was so clear?
The entrance into the city proper led into a series of cracked and rundown structures that were in sore need of a mortar application. Smaller calves and gnarled elderly bulls and cows looked on with a mixture of curiosity and mournful suffering. One such child approached and held up a bowl, letting out a plaintive low as she averted her gaze, then motioned towards a particularly sickly-looking cow. A loud snort and a heavy clop of a hoof was all it took to send the poor heifer scampering away.
The streets grew wider as they passed farther into the city. The structures gradually became taller, their thick white plaster reflecting the sun’s harsh rays to protect their occupants. A veritable swath of broad wooden stalls with vibrant tarps and cloths overhead to shield their occupants overran the sides of the buildings, skirting alleyways and entrances to allow for optimum traffic. The majority of the owners sported either weapons, fabric, or jewelry. Somewhere in the distance, the loud bleats of goats drew Pensword’s attention. A passing glance down one alleyway revealed a pen filled to the brim with the creatures as a Minotaur fed each a handful of hay to chew on elsewhere. Prominent scarring along their flanks marked them for what they were, and Pensword shuddered at the sight as bile rose in his throat. These bovines had slavery.
As they continued farther, the great structures became taller, their walls thicker. Towers became more common and prominent, stretching up toward the heavens, doubtless to act as an early warning system for any unfriendly forces. A large square they passed was filled to the brim with a series of brutal looking chariots lined with spikes, metal plating, and other gildings designed for combat and competition. A pair of goats stared off into space as they waited patiently in their harnesses.
At the far end of the city, Pensword could just make out the beginnings of structures standing out from the edifice of a mighty mountain range. Its pinnacles were lost high in the clouds above as the occasional knoll of a bell striking rhythmically echoed to carry ghost-like along the wind. It seemed that the escort was taking him there, though for what purpose, Pensword couldn’t say. All he knew for certain was that he didn’t like it one bit.
Pensword saw another goat with a brand and he gave a snort. If his captors tried that anywhere on his body, especially near his cutie mark, so help him, he’d buck his handlers harder than Spirit did the blacksmith, back on Earth. He couldn’t help but smirk as a small nicker left his muzzle. Who thought he’d be taking lessons from a cartoon?
A husky chuckle was the only answer Pensword received as his handlers continued their monotonous trip. Penword narrowed his eyes to glare back. They would see who had the last laugh. For now, he could afford to wait.
“Thank you for meeting with me.” Grif gave a light bow before the older Zebras. It had taken time, but Vital had finally managed to get a few of the older ones to agree to meet with the warrior privately. “I hope you don’t take my request as impertinent.”
“Impertinence would be barging into our tents and demanding we meet with you immediately,” the first of the elders said. “Vital Spark has vouched for you, as has Mwalimu. That is enough to keep suspicion at least satisfied, if not completely at bay.”
“Suspicion is a wise instinct. It keeps us alive,” Grif said, smiling. “I come here, because I have a question I am hoping you will answer for me.”
“And that is?”
“Who was the Gryphon who visited these lands before?” Grif asked flatly. “When I first arrived here, I noticed many of the elders lacked the surprise the younger Zebras had at seeing my form. Most of you recognised my race head on. So, who was he?”
“He was known by many names: Toymaker, the Laughing One, the Weeping Whistle. We don’t know what happened to him, only that he fled from your empire a long time ago and never looked back. He was … surprisingly gentle, though his spirit was often in turmoil, hence why he gained so many names. Whether loss, fear, shame, or a combination thereof, it was clear he carried a great burden. It was one he did not wish to share with us. In the end, he flew out to sea, in search of his place.”
“Gandolfi the toymaker was here? But that … that's impossible. He died, when his workshop burnt down, him and his research.” Grif was in shock at hearing such news. “Did he leave anything behind?”
“Memories, a few small tokens. He was exceptionally clever in his own right. He could not voice our tongue, but he still devised a means for us to communicate, regardless.” The old stallion chuckled. “My grandchildren make use of them now, as I once did in my youth. His puzzle box was exceptional. Not a foal has managed to find the proper combination yet.”
“I don’t suppose you would allow me to see some of these items? The Gryphon was a genius in our culture as well. Unfortunately, we did not appreciate the simple joy toys can bring. My people forced him to make weapons, and I feel that may be why he fled. As you have said, he was a kind-hearted soul.”
“Perhaps, for a time.” A rueful smile crossed the stallion’s face. “Assuming we can get them away from the little ones.”
“I would appreciate that.” Grif nodded. “Soon, we’ll be ready to start getting aggressive with this war. Another month and we can begin actively hunting them. I will see your people reclaim their peace.”
“And what of your own people?” one of the elders with cloudy eyes asked. “Will you bring them peace as well?”
“I see. You have consulted your diviners about me? How much did they tell you?”
“Enough to know that our people will owe you much in the coming years. Your future is still your own to decide. And we know to avoid discussing the happenings of this war with your doppelganger. That … is the correct word in the Equish tongue, is it not?”
“I am Grif Bladefeather, the chosen Avatar of Winds. My destiny, should I live to see it, will be to return what my people have lost, and in doing so, hopefully allow them to see the folly of our ways.” Grif planted Vigilance and Vengeance before him. “I wield the sacred swords of vigilance and vengeance. If I were unworthy, they would not have me.”
“We do not judge your worthiness, newborn. Such is the place of the gods and spirits beyond. There is no need for assurances of loyalty. That has been granted by Vital Spark and the great defender. Take up your swords, child. There is still much to be done.”
Grif took the blades and sheathed them with a flourish. “Then I will take my leave. As you said, there is still much to be done, and the North Wind is hungry.” With that, Grif gave another short bow and left the room with Vital Spark in tow.
“How did I do?” he asked the Unicorn.
“A bit on the flashy side. They divined about your past self’s arrival, and they know about your burden, whatever that may be. They didn’t think they should tell me, so I figure it’s something you want to keep to yourself, and I can respect that. A word of advice, though. You don’t have to impress us, Taze. We judge your spirit, not your appearance. A well trained shaman or diviner can easily read you, though it’s probably more like they’re skimming through a dictionary, considering how complex your story is.”
“Even so, I want there to be no possible doubts. Pensword’s my main goal, but I will do everything in my power to help them.”
“I’d expect nothing less from you. After all, they’re my family now.” Vital sighed. “Speaking of which, I should probably check on Zecora. I don’t know exactly when it’s supposed to happen, but I know she’s going to make a powerful contract with a deity, and it’ll probably be soon.”
“Hopefully,” Grif chuckled. “We could definitely use help right now.”
Vital sighed as he looked sorrowfully at his staff. “Maybe, but I don’t know if I’d like her paying the cost.”
Hammer Strike sighed to himself as he tightened the last segment on the basic bellow for the forge. He couldn’t skip too far ahead of himself, or he would leave too big of a note that he did not want to deal with, plus it would be useful to them, after he left. He would teach them enough to expand upon the art themselves, but his own personal forgings would remain just that, his own.
Frowning, he tilted the bellow and began giving it a basic test, taking in air and pushing it out. He continued the process a few times as he checked every possible angle. “No unanticipated leaks,” he muttered to himself as he shrugged and placed it off to the side.
Resources were easy enough to gather. It was just the matter of finding those with the ability to forge that made things more complicated. It wasn’t just a matter of strength, it was also finesse and endurance to work the long hours on single projects. It wasn’t something that anyone could just pick up.
“I hope the tanning was to your liking,” an older Zebra with a rough hide shield said as he approached. The scent of the chemicals for the process radiated from his robe.
“They’re proving to be useful,” Hammer Strike replied as he tapped the bellow.
“Is there anything else you stand in need of?”
“A set of hooves that can handle my training and long hours of continuous labor without complaining,” Hammer Strike replied simply. “Though the task is not an easy one,” he finished as he grabbed the bellow and moved towards the opposite side of the room, where he had begun the construction of said forge. After a few minor tweaks, he secured the bellow to the position he had marked.
“There are many who wish to fight. It will be difficult to locate one of the young ones who would adhere to such standards.” The tanner stroked his chin, where a fleecy white goatee sprouted. “You would likely find your best candidates among either the healers or the warriors. The healers are trained to exercise patience in the administration of their arts, while the warriors have a greater focus on strength, agility, and endurance. If neither is suitable, I would recommend you seek out the hunters. I believe they would best embody both sets of skills that you require.”
“I require both in a single individual, as you cannot work metal properly without both. Once I am gone, you will have a new class of workers that can continue working towards bettering the craft.”
“Shall I notify Bayek for you, then? The hunters do fall under his jurisdiction.”
“If you wouldn’t mind.”
“And how many more skins will you require?”
:Just one more set will do.”
“We’ll start on the order immediately.” The wizened Zebra nodded respectfully to Hammer Strike, then took his leave.
Vital sighed as he looked over the stone he’d collected from the riverbed. The training and coordination of troops and raiding parties hadn’t left him with much free time, but he’d managed to polish the edges and chip away some of the excess. The stone was far from complete, but at least it had more of a circular appearance to it. He picked it up and placed it gently into its slot in his saddlebag, when a thought struck him. “It’s worth a shot, I suppose,” he muttered to himself as he made his way to the hut they’d constructed to house Fjüra during her stay.
The guards parted without question as Vital Spark passed into the structure. Its walls were higher and the opening above wider to allow a better view of the canopy above. As he had suspected, a rather penitent Zecora looked up awkwardly at the meditating cow, whether out of guilt or something else, Vital couldn’t tell.
Being careful not to disturb the pair, Vital pulled out the stone again and raised it to his eye. A bright green nimbus surrounded the Zebra in a gentle embrace as a spectral robe of vines, leaves, and branches stretched down her back and around either side. A woven circlet of green twigs and tiny buds adorned her head.
“Well, that answers that question,” Vital mumbled to himself.
“Such stones are rare, youngster. Where did you find something like that?” the Minotaur cow asked without turning to look at him.
Zecora did turn, however, and her eyes widened in surprise. “Vital Spark. What are you doing here?”
“To answer your questions in order, I found it in the river bed near the sacred mountain, before we restored the spring, and I came here looking for you, Zecora.”
“Did Father want me?”
Vital shook his head. “No, this was just a personal call.” He approached Fjüra. “In my homeland, people often called this an adder stone or seer stone, depending on the interpretation. Is it true that this stone is capable of seeing through to the unseen?”
“It is true.” She nodded. “So long as the hole was bored by nature, it can reveal anything that is hidden or invisible.”
“Anything at all?”
“She did say anything, Vital,” Zecora deadpanned.
“And what brings you here, Zecora?”
“Fjüra and I were simply discussing certain important details about the war. Apparently, the deities they worship are known as the hecatoncheires.”
“Woah, woah, woah. Hold up. The what now?”
“The hundred handed ones,” Fjüra clarified. “Those who cry with fifty voices.”
Vital Spark facehoofed, then groaned. “And how many are there, exactly?”
“There have always been three.”
“And should the campaign lead into the Stampede Grounds, how likely are your people to call upon them for aid?”
“Not very.” She shook her head. “It’s doubtful they would answer.”
“And do they exist on the physical plane here?”
“They do.” She nodded. “They sleep within the mountain behind Labarynthia.”
“Then it seems that my intended talk with Zecora may have to wait. If you ladies will excuse me, I need to go alert Grif and Hammer Strike to this new development.”
“Talk?” Zecora asked, surprised.
“Later, Zecora. I’ll find you,” Vital promised as he pocketed the stone and turned to leave the tent.
“So, that’s the gist of it,” Vital Spark said as he sat next to the big Gryphon. “Which means that if the head bull gets that desperate, he might try to wake them. We both know how dangerous even one god can be. Three titans, ….”
“Not Titans.” Grif shook his head. “Different bloodline. Still, that kind of potential is staggering,” Grif said. “But it sounds like they’d be as likely to turn on him.”
“Can we really take that chance?”
“No, but for now, we can accept the fact that we are safe from that problem and focus on the more present problems. How goes the archery lessons?”
“Your help with the new bow design has increased their potential a lot. The shafts should be able to go farther and pierce at closer range. It’s taking them a while to adjust to the stress on the bowstring.”
“That's normal. But do you think they’re ready?” Grif asked.
The warriors and hunters? Certainly. As for the others, I’m still not quite certain. They’re competent, but we won’t know if they’re really ready, until we put them through a proper simulation.”
“There won’t be a simulation. Unfortunately, we don’t have the resources for that,” Grif sighed.
“Then the only way to know for sure is to put them through a proper raid. They’re competent enough. It’s just a matter of how they’ll react in real combat.”
“Make sure they’re ready, then. Next week, we start our retaliation.”
“And will you be telling Hammer Strike about this as well?”
“He already knows,” Grif said. “We talked about it. It’s time to make a statement.”
“I meant the sleeping deities, but yeah, I suppose it’s time.” He sighed. “By the way, Haiwezekani was looking for you earlier. He absolutely demands the chance to test your skill. I tried to warn him off, but, well … the Equestrian translation for his name is literally Incorrigible.”
Grif sighed. “I suppose this was coming. What am I looking at here?” Grif asked.
“An experienced warrior. He’s seen his share of combat over the years, namely with other Zebras and in hunts, though he has also dealt with rogues before, helping to capture them to face judgement as well. He’s tough, gristly, and pretty much a lunatic when you’re in the ring with him. Then again, I think he does that just for the sake of helping us know what we’ll face, when we enter real combat. So, all in all, I think he’s wise, just … not wise enough to realize how foolish it is to insist on challenging you.”
“Thing about real combat is not every opponent is the same.” Grif chuckled as Vital led the way. “Some are crazy, some shout, others are quiet, others are cold. Tell him he can bring whatever he wants into the fight. For my part, I’ll do this one empty-handed.”
“In short, you intend to prove just how out of his league he is for challenging you?” Vital asked.
“He can’t be alone. I’m sure there are plenty of Zebras wondering why this foreigner should be calling the shots. I expected I’d have to prove myself at some point. Now’s as good as ever.”
“I’ll let him know. Was there a particular place you wanted to hold the spar?”
“What's traditional?”
A standard combat ring with a diameter of about ten yards or so. Of course, given your size and the skill involved on both sides, we may have to expand that arena slightly.”
“Make sure to set it up to his advantage.”
“Grif, there’s no advantage to either party. That’s the whole point of the ring match. It’s in a flat terrain with no space to use for cover or sneak attacks. It’s literally impossible to make it advantageous to either side.”
“Put a net over it.”
“You do realize that’s not going to be easy, right? It’ll take us a day or two to get the necessary vines woven. It can be done, but you’ll both need to wait, until it is.”
“I can wait, if he can.”
Vital shrugged. “I’ll ask him. He may not like the idea, though.”
“That's his choice. I want nothing left to question.”
“All right,” Vital sighed. “I’ll let him know. Though, for the record, he’s not doing this to try to prove he’s better.” He chuckled. “He just enjoys a good challenge.”
The jungle rang with the sound of drums and slamming polearms as the stallions of the village gathered around the arena. Vital Spark had made an extra point of lining the edge clearly with a barrier of ice to ensure there was no question of the boundary line. The mares and colts lined up in rows surrounding the ring to catch even a glimpse of the combat that was to follow. A great net hung overhead, tied to the many tree trunks surrounding the village, in accordance with Grif’s specifications.
Grif stood at the far end, doing light stretches as he waited. He’d removed his armor and all his weapons, leaving every bit of his scarred black-and-green fur and feathers out in the open. When this was over, he wanted there to be no doubts, no accusations or technical responses. He’d already decided he wouldn’t be using weapons or magic for this. Skill alone would be his instrument.
The ceremonial witnesses pulled aside as the crowd parted to reveal the gristly Zebra. His rawhide shield was strapped to his back, along with his spear. A rungu rested in a holster to his right, while a hunga munga laid in wait on his left. Its sharp edges glinted in the afternoon sun. The war paint etched across his face and sides were a mixture of clay red and a muddy brown, with a single shot of green portraying a shoot or sapling rising from the tip of his nose up to the top of his forehead.
“So, we meet at last.” Grif chuckled, nodding to his opponent as Vital translated.
“We do, indeed,” the warrior replied. Then he grinned. “I have been looking forward to the challenge. It is not often one gets the chance to spar with one of your kind.”
“Yes. Well, it’s not common for the antelope to challenge the lion, is it?” Grif smirked.
“Nor the lion to face the wise elephant,” Haiwezekani replied. “And yet, both have their reasons, when the time is right.”
“Well then, by all means, let's not stall this any longer,” Grif said, giving an elegant bow. “Begin when you are ready.”
“Begin when I’m out of the ring, Grif,” Vital clarified. Then he raised his voice. “This match is made at the request of Haiwezekani to test the extent of the warrior, Grif Grafson Bladefeather. The first to be either driven out of bounds, defeated in combat, or driven to yield, shall be the victor.” He looked sternly at Haiwezekani. “This is not to be a match to the death. We need the both of you to continue to train our warriors.” Then he looked back at Grif, quickly summarizing his previous words, before continuing in Equish. “That goes double for you, Grif, though I’m sure you had no intention of doing so.” He then resumed his speech in Zwahili as he looked over the eager crowd. “Know that this will not become a common practice. We are preparing for a war. This is to show you the extent of the combatants’ skill and nothing more. You are to watch, listen, and learn. As is the custom, none are allowed to interfere. Those who do will face the consequences.” Vital narrowed his gaze, then retreated to the edge of his barrier, passing through ice and warriors, before sealing the barrier up again.
He raised his hoof as he looked to both contenders one last time. “BEGIN!” he barked as he slammed his hoof down.
Haiwezekani moved in immediately. After closing the distance between them, he stabbed outwards with the spear.
Grif dodged to the left, and then to the right of a second spear thrust. On the third, he reached out and, to the crowd’s shock, dug his talons into the haft just below the spear head, halting the weapon’s movement. With a flick of his wrist, he beheaded the spear and tossed the spearhead behind him.
Haiwezekani reacted immediately, thrusting the splintered wood forward to try to catch Grif off guard.
The strike had come swiftly enough. Admittedly, It had caught Grif slightly off guard. For most fighters, this would be a costly mistake leading to injury. However, despite there being seemingly no time to dodge, the watchers murmured in confusion as Grif seemingly moved to the side instantaneously. Reaching out, Grif grasped the spear’s shaft, before it could be reclaimed, and yanked it out of his opponent’s grasp. He threw it towards the barrier, where it buried itself a solid foot into the ice.
Haiwezekani took one look at the spear and grinned. “I like this one.” Next, he pulled his rungu out from its pouch and changed his combat stance, crouching low to the ground in preparation for an assault.
He charged Grif with a flurry of blows, which the Gryphon ducked under or side-stepped. However, much to his opponent’s plan, he soon found the backstepping required to dodge had his back against the far barrier. Haiwezekani went to drive a single powerful blow. At that point, Grif reached out and caught the club, holding onto the head tightly as he and his opponent grappled for possession of the weapon.
Haiwezekani grit his teeth as he and the Gryphon locked strength and wills. However, despite the closeness of their contest, Grif inevitably began to take the upper hand. At that point, the Zebra used his opponent’s strength against him to flip up onto the Gryphon’s back, wrenching the rungu along for the ride and bending Grif’s arm back, until a loud pop sounded through the clearing and a few of the spectators winced.
Grif let out a growl of pain, but before his opponent could capitalize on his current position, the Gryphon reared back and crashed his weight against the ice barrier, sandwiching the Zebra in. He quickly grabbed the injured arm and yanked it down, then twisted it, setting the member and joint back in place. Unseen, the thaumic field took over from there, pulling the damaged muscle and tissue back together as another pop sounded to alert him and his competitor to the fact he now had full use of the member again. In an instant, Grif rolled forward, freeing the Zebra and separating himself by a few feet, before turning to face Haiwezekani again.
Haiwezekani grinned. “Not bad,” he breathed as he crouched once again. “Not bad at all.”
“Perhaps it’s time to remove the kiddie gloves,” Grif said as he opened his hands and extended his talons. He charged forward and grabbed the head of the club, pulling it towards him, before slashing downwards, severing the handle in two. A flurry of blows later, the rawhide shield fell to the ground in pieces. Before his opponent could reach his hunga munga, Grif clipped the holster straps and tossed the still-holstered weapons out of reach.
Three pricks in various places later, and the Zebra’s front legs went numb, falling prone to either side as small red wells began to seep where Grif’s talons had pierced so precisely, invisible to the naked eye. In the next instant, Haiwezekani found himself being held from behind with one talon millimeters away from his jugular. The slightest misstep, and he’d be left bleeding out on the ground. “Yield,” Grif demanded.
Haiwezekani laughed. “Well played, Gryphon. Well played.” He nodded gently in acquiescence, knowing only too well, by tone alone, what the warrior of The Winds had said. Then he called in a louder voice for all to hear. “I yield!”
The roar was thunderous as the Zebras cheered and crowed from the spectacle. Vital Spark was swift to enter on the scene, flanked by a group of healers. “He’ll recover quickly?” he asked curtly of the Gryphon.”
Grif’s talons rapidly poked the Zebra again. In a few moments, Haiwezekani’s front legs began to move again. “The rest will have to wait for nature, I imagine,” he told them.
“Did I see some shaman techniques in there, Grif?” Vital asked curiously.
“Pressure points and acupuncture, Vital. Ping taught me some things,” Grif clarified.
“Ah, that would explain it. So, you blocked his chakra?”
“If you want a mystical explanation, sure. But a more practical explanation would be I disrupted the nerve activity in his shoulders. Thus, no nerve activity, no movement.”
“Do you think you got your point across?”
“I hope so,” Grif said. “Admittedly, he took me by surprise for a moment there. Still, you keep discouraging fights with me. Tell them horror stories, if you need to.”
“I don’t think it will be necessary, but should the need arise, I’ll make sure to teach them the lessons they need in humility.” Vital smiled knowingly at his friend. “You should probably get some ice on that, though,” he said, motioning towards Grif’s shoulder with a horn.
“Thaumic field. Within the next half hour, it’ll be like it never happened.” Grif laughed. “Or at least it will appear that way.”
“All the more reason to treat it like a normal wound, until it has the chance to also repair naturally,” Vital noted as he tore a chunk from the wall and levitated it against Grif’s shoulder. “Here.”
“Thanks,” Grif chuckled, knowing it didn’t quite work that way, but he’d let his friend figure it out in time. He used a wing to press the ice.
“Say, Grif, I sort of forgot to ask this in the first place, what with all the retreating and prep for battle going on. How long have I been gone? You know, back home.”
“Just over two days,” Grif answered.
Vital sighed in relief. “Good. I’d hate to make Trixie worry. Did you catch the mercenaries that took me in the first place or did you have some help from The Doctor this time?”
“Oh, we caught them,” Grif said. “We caught them and the people who put them up to it.”
“And my stuff?”
“We saved what we could find,” Grif offered. “You totaled the staff.”
“Watcher is gone?” The Unicorn looked suddenly stricken.
“No, I mean the expensive ancient Zebrican relic,” Grif clarified.
“Oh, that. Yeah, I still don’t know what happened there.” He chuckled and rubbed the back of his head. “Just had a sudden surge of light, after I tried to channel my magic through it.”
“Well, I imagine the Zebras might have knowledge on that,” Grif noted.
“They’ve been pretty tight-lipped, when I’ve asked.”
“Stop asking, start insisting,” Grif said. “They brought you here. They have a responsibility.”
“And if they still won’t talk?”
“Remind them that they need you right now.”
“Great. So, I have to talk with Zecora about her possibly being a goddess’ avatar and the Council of Elders about what they want from me.” He rolled his eyes. “Swell.”
“In the words of my dear sweet mother, ‘life sucks, and then you die,’” Grif said. “Now come on. We have a raid to plan.”
It had been two days since Pensword had arrived in the city. He had been taken to one of the smaller inner towers of a compound closer to the mountain. The Minotaurs had made certain to keep him drunk on the salt to sedate him as he ate and drank. His accommodations remained the same as the soldiers and a few cows bustled around adjusting parts of the building to suit their new prisoner. Once the alterations were complete, the bovines departed, sealing a partition shut behind them, before letting it blend seamlessly back into the wall.
Once he had gained enough of his senses to shake off the curious reeling sensation of drunkenness, Pensword rose to his hooves and approached the bars of his cage. Much to his surprise, the barrier melted into the floor, giving him unbridled access to the rest of the dwelling. A little exploration revealed the layout of his current accommodations came in the form of what essentially leveled out to a three-room suite. The middle room, where his cage had been dropped, had been lined with windows filled with seamless stone bars as thick as his foreleg. A quick search of these portals made it only too obvious what they had been constructed for as passersby gazed from afar, while guards patrolled ten or so feet away.
Either this was a prison or some form of zoo. Neither idea sat well with the commander. A look at the ceiling revealed an ornate golden dome shaped almost like a radish. Smaller windows about the size of a hoof allowed the sunlight to filter into the space, before reflecting down to bathe a section of the floor in golden light.
“What is this, Aladdin?” he murmured to himself. The other two rooms were small and fairly rudimentary. The one to the left was what essentially equated to a bedroom. A mattress stuffed with straw had been laid down on the floor, alongside a surprisingly elegant-looking white pillow. The hybrid could only surmise that it was a spoil taken from a conquest against a Gryphon war party.
The room to the right was … less than pleasant. It was essentially what equated to a closet with a smooth stone seat, a wide hole, and a deep pit. He wrinkled his nose in distaste, especially when he realized the distinct lack of any washing facilities. When he returned to view some of the other windows, he found, much to his surprise, a lush garden paradise in a sprawling courtyard. A great net hung overhead, preventing any means of aerial escape as tropical birds of all shapes and sizes flew among the trees and plants, unleashing their cries. His eyes widened even farther, when he noticed three peacocks strutting proudly along the cobbled stones and dipping elegantly into a great fountain to drink.
Over time, he grew to learn a certain routine his captors expected him to follow. At dawn, he would be forcefully woken, dragged from his bed, and get herded into the main room for onlookers to see. Since he had little else to do for the time being, he decided to dedicate his time to recovery and maintaining fitness. If he was ever going to break out, he would need his full strength, and he would need a plan. Much to his surprise, rather than seek to prevent him from doing so, many of the onlookers appeared to take delight, even amusement, at the Pony’s actions. Clearly, they didn’t think he could pose a threat. It was a belief they would come to regret, if he had anything to say about it.
His meals consisted namely of dried fruits, with a few juicier additions added after a particularly good workout, like mangos and figs. It also appeared that his captors knew of his dietary needs, adding the occasional side of dried meat every few meals to ensure he maintained his protein levels. He also learned not to go near his bars, when the guards were around. A solid blow to his barrel still left him wincing, when he breathed too deeply. Clearly, the guards weren’t about to take any chances with him.
They would allow others to watch him eat, and they would force him to have at least one block of salt a day, leaving the equine with an almost perpetual buzz that danced a fine line between drunk and sober. This, too, proved entertaining to his spectators, and only served to fuel the anger that seethed beneath the surface at the indignity of it all. He could try flying, eventually, but even if he were to find a means of escape, the city was too well defended, and he wouldn’t put it past his captors to use those defenses he’d spied earlier to kill him, rather than allow him to escape.
No, this was a situation that required careful planning and a nigh-inexhaustible amount of patience. That being said, it could prove a most beneficial opportunity. He would have time to focus on his fitness undisturbed. No paperwork to attend to, no little ones to have to track down, no political intrigue to check. A toothy grin soon overtook his face as his fangs caught the light.
“Time to get back to basics.”
Vital Spark sighed as he plopped down next to Zecora with a bowl laden with dried fruit and jerky. The mare, for her part, was enjoying a bowl of fresh water and a few root vegetables from the crops.
“All this training is running me ragged,” the stallion said as he nuzzled her gently. “How are you holding up?”
“I’m fine, Vital,” Zecora insisted. “You don’t have to treat me like a little filly.”
“This coming from the mare who treated me like a colt the entire time we lived together. I believe I’m owed at least a little payback for that.”
Zecora smirked. “That’s if you believe in a fair world.”
“That’s what hard work and will is for. We help shape a fair world,” Vital noted cheekily.
“Is that so?”
“Well, in theory,” Vital noted as he popped a piece of fruit into his mouth and chewed. “So,” he said after he swallowed, “you and I still need to have that little talk I mentioned before.”
“And you want to have it here and now?”
“Nah. I’d prefer someplace private, where we won’t have to worry about listening ears. It’s something I’m pretty sure you’d prefer kept under wraps.”
“Blackmail, Vital Spark? Didn’t I teach you better?” Zecora teased.
“Zecora, this isn’t a joking matter,” Vital said seriously. “I know some very interesting things have happened to you recently, things that you and I are going to need to talk about, quite possibly in great length.”
“Things such as?”
“The fact you had a nice long talk with our invisible friends’ mother recently, most likely as far back as the spring.”
“And if I did?”
“Zecora, this isn’t one of our games. I know what you are, and I know what you have yet to become,” Vital whispered tersely.
“And your suddenly regaining your memories has somehow made you an expert?” Zecora asked curtly.
Vital Spark stared the Zebra down. “That was beneath you, Zecora, and you and I both know it. If you’re not willing to talk about it here, I know a place where we can. Meet with me at the village’s edge the night after the raid. It’s about time I got to show you something for a change.”
Haiwezekani, Bayek, Waangalifu, and Kisasi stood in a half circle around Grif and Hammer Strike. Behind them stood Zebras that had been paired up into six groups of ten. Grif was carving into the ground as he went over the final details of the raid.
“Just half a mile from this spot, the Minotaurs have a detachment camping just inside the treeline. There are probably about seventy of them there, but the terrain’s giving them trouble, so they’re primarily resting at this point. They do, however, have teams of two sentries set up here, here, here, and here,” he said, pointing to each of the respective locations on his makeshift map.
“The goal is to have each sentry dead before we begin the raid. Bayek, Haiwezekani, you’ll take teams to kill these sentires.” Grif marked two Xs. “Hammerstrike and I will take out the other two. After that, we attack, starting with a volley of arrows from Kisasi’s group on the south end. Then Waangalifu will charge from the east with your new long spears,” Grif said, stabbing a lone barbed spearhead in the ground to emphasize his points. He gave Hammer Strike a grateful nod. The spearheads were vicious-looking, but would prove incredibly effective. “Try and keep the fires low. The jungles are our ally here,” he said, winking.
“I’ve got more than just fire,” Hammer Strike chuckled.
“We’ll attack for exactly fifteen minutes. Then Kisasi will release another volley of arrows and we’ll need to leave. Does everyone understand that? Fifteen minutes?” Grif scanned their faces.
“And I’ll make sure to cover the getaway with a blanket of fog to confuse their sense of smell and direction,” Vital Spark added.
“Should you delay too long for the getaway, we cannot help you,” Hammer Strike spoke up.
Grif looked to them with a stony face. “If they capture you, I’d suggest you kill yourselves. It’s faster, and there’s less chance of you talking.”
Vital winced, but relayed the message. There was a general murmuring that passed through the gathering, but nothing outright rebellious. “You all know what you signed up for, when you volunteered to join this campaign,” he added. “If you succeed here, it will the the first step to reclaiming our homes and possibly brokering a proper peace. Now then, assuming nobody else has any questions or objections, let’s get started.”
“We’ll head out together for the first hundred feet, then we start splitting off. Remember: move quickly and quietly. Leave as little trail as possible. We don’t want to invite a counterattack.”
The raiding party nodded grimly as each took to their stations and the advance began. Having had the time to become acquainted with the jungle and all its quirks, it was a simple matter for the Zebras to pass silently among the trees and underbrush. Their war paint pulsed briefly as they made contact with the plants, and the leaves and fronds brushed silently back into place, rather than giving off their usual rustle. They knew of the intruders, and they did not like it them trampling into their forest. At last, the party broke up into their units and the plan began in earnest.
Waangalifu signaled with his hoof as he and his fellow shamans slipped ghost-like past the tree line and raced with incredible speed to slip past the sentries. It was a simple matter for them to creep up behind and slit the bulls’ throats. A faint gurgle was all the two guards could utter, before they fell to the ground in a pool of their own blood.
Haiwezekani nodded as he signaled his archers. The Zebras took careful aim, launching their arrows with practiced ease. Unfortunately, the shots went wide, missing their targets. The bulls took a deep breath, ready to sound their alarm, when a black blur blew through. Seconds later, the bulls were on the ground, their eyes rolled back in their heads. Grif gave a reproving glance at the recruits. Clearly, more training was in order. He motioned sternly toward the camp ground, then was gone in a blink.
At his next stop, Grif held up a staying hand, before Bayek’s party, then hefted Graf’s axe. He eyed his targets carefully, then wound back and tossed the weapon. It flew end over end with nary a sound. In an instant, it found its way to the neck of one of the sentries, biting hard and deep and spurting blood onto the ground. Before the sentry's partner could react, Grif called the axe back. The weapon sliced the bull’s throat on the return arc, leaving both minotaurs to sink to the ground without a noise.
Kisasi looked on in utter disbelief at the patch where Hammer Strike had once stood. There had been no magic, no glow, no flash of powder or drop of a trap door. The Earth Pony had simply seeped into the shadows, like a crocodile in the river. Seconds later, one of the younger recruits tapped his shoulder urgently and pointed toward the sentries. Their bodies had been neatly dismembered at the neck, arms, and legs. Haiwezekani sputtered in surprise at the sight. “When did he…?” He shook his head. “Never mind. Forward,” he whispered the command.
Together, the four war parties took up their positions around the encampment. With the sentries dead, they could take their time to launch a proper strike. The warriors took their bows and formed ranks. All sat waiting tersely on the far ends of the camp. Then Grif’s axe flew and hovered high in the air, before whirling back to its master.
The Zebras launched their volley, and the camp was raked with the deadly hail. Bellows of surprise mingled with outcries of pain, followed by rage. The Zebras fired off another volley, then returned their bows to their quivers and stormed the site from all sides. The ground shook with the thunder of their hooves, and their battle cries caused the very canopies above to shake as they crashed through tents, boxes, and vessels. When chance permitted, they would seek to lay low an opponent, but they knew this was a war of attrition, and prudence dictated it would be best to let the Minotaurs’ own lust for combat be their downfall.
At last, when the fifteen minutes had passed, a bright blue light flashed overhead, and a cascade of frigid cold air dropped down over the camp and clearing. The sudden drop in temperature prodded nature to take its course, and a thick blanket of white fog arose from the earth, like a sudden gasp.
“Fall back!” the cry rebounded as the stampede of hooves sounded once again. The bulls that remained charged into the fog after the Zebras, but with their speed and arts, none could be captured. The camp was in total disarray. Supplies had been properly spoiled or destroyed, and true to the plan, a final spray of arrows further hindered their opponents as the raiding party fled into the night. The mission had been a success.
Many a Zebra smiled in delight at the victory they had achieved as they fled into the trees and flocked to the rallying point, where an anxious-looking Vital Spark searched eagerly, perhaps even somewhat frantically, for the party leaders and his friends.
“Quiet,” Grif hissed. “We can celebrate, when we know we haven’t been followed.”
“Is everyone here? How many casualties did we take?” Vital whispered.
“I think we got away with a few broken bones,” Grif said as he surveyed from the upper boughs of a tree. “Overall, they did well.”
Vital let out his pent up anxieties in a gusty sigh. “Thank goodness.”
“There is still room for improvement,” Haiwezekani said pointedly as he approached. “Were it not for Grif’s swift actions, the raid would have gone poorly.” He looked back at the troops from his war party with a withering glare.
“Yes, Haiwezekani, we all know they need improvement,” Bayek agreed, “but you cannot deny they did well for ones with so little training.”
“When we have no casualties at all, then I will be satisfied,” Haiwezekani retorted.
“Might I recommend we resume this conversation back at camp?” Waangalifu suggested. “We have injuries that need tending.”
Haiwezekani grumbled in frustration, but ultimately yielded to the young warrior’s wisdom. There would be time for chastisement later, after they returned to camp.
As they moved, Grif pulled Vital and Haiwezekani aside. “Okay, this has to stop,” Grif said as he looked at the Zebra warrior and the Unicorn translated once again. “I can understand pushing them during training, but we are coming back from a battle, and a victory no less. We’re not carrying any bodies back with us. They don’t need to be admonished for doing well in what, for many of them, is their first battle. Some of them shed first blood here tonight. They don’t need you telling them what they did wrong. They need to process what happened. Right now is the time that determines what type of warrior they become in life, and I’ve seen too many pushed down a dark path, because of stunts like you just pulled back there. I don’t want to hear what I can tell to be criticism, while everyone’s tired and hungry, possibly facing an existential crisis, and/or mending a broken bone. Are we clear?”
“It is not how I teach,” Haiwezekani began, “but you’ve already proven yourself to be the better warrior. If that is really what you say is for the best, then I have little choice but to abide by it.” He sighed. “This … is going to be difficult.”
“Teaching is for before the battle. Resting comes after,” Grif told him. “This is not going to be a fast campaign, and I can say, with great ease, that they won’t always get the pleasure of everyone returning. Let them have tonight.”
“And then?”
“Tomorrow, you can drill them about their mistakes till the cows come home,” Grif promised.
Haiwezekani nodded. “I can live with that.” Then he smirked mischievously. “Say, Grif, just how partial are you to fermented berry juice?”
The scent of seasoned wood smoke permeated the room as the elders and chiefs of the villages gathered in the newest structure they had built. Now that the other Zebras has arrived from their retreats, the council could meet properly. Occasionally, one of the older shamans would cast a powder over the flames, causing them to writhe and shift colors as they flared up to fill the air with a fruity smell. Mwalimu looked pensively into those flickering tendrils as Hammer Strike passed through the door and into the council’s presence.
“You called?” Hammer Strike questioned bluntly.
“Yes, we did,” Mwalimu confirmed. “There is a certain matter that has been troubling us for some time now, Hammer Strike, and we were hoping that you might be able to clarify this matter for us.”
He raised his brow questioningly. “And that would be?”
“To put it bluntly,” Bayek said as he stepped forward, “we would like to know why Luna’s Wraith is fighting his battles here, when a war of far greater significance rages even now in his own homeland.”
“A complicated question with a complicated answer,” Hammer Strike chuckled. “You need not worry of what goes on in Equestria. I’ve got that end covered.”
“And how, exactly, do you ‘have it covered?’” another elder asked.
Hammer Strike’s eyes glowed as the shadows writhed nearby, before another him stepped out of it, taking form in front of the group. “Is that a good enough answer?”
The council gaped collectively at the lord.
“Is it … tangible?” one of the members asked.
Both Hammer Strikes stomped their hooves against the ground, resulting in two simultaneous thuds that kicked up a faint layer of dust and ash.
“How long are you able to sustain such a manifestation?”
“Indefinitely,” both replied.
“And distance?”
Both shrugged. “I haven’t felt a limit just yet.”
“And is there another of these manifestations working in Equestria at this very moment?”
“Do you believe I would be physically here than my homeland at war?”
“You sent a magical manifestation of yourself all this way, while simultaneously fighting a war?”
“More or less.”
“That defies the very laws of logic, unless you utilized some artifact to assist you in creating physical copies. We know enough of the laws of your magic to know that a Pony can only sustain so much for so long.”
“If you knew enough of the way our magic works, you would understand that it is also quite impossible for an Earth Pony to possess magic of these kinds as well,” Hammer Strike countered. “If you know part of my legend, you know that I do not work by the rules established by any nature.”
“But you do work by rules?” one of the council members pressed.
“In some manner, yes.”
“In that case, then we have no qualms, so long as these rules of yours are unbroken.”
“Is that all? I’ve currently got five sets of weapons sitting by that need to be finished, before our plans can progress.”
The others nodded. “We thank you for your time.”
Both Hammer Strikes stepped into the shadows, leaving the council to themselves. Then one single Hammer Strike sighed as he stepped through into his forge once more, before rubbing his neck.
“Hey, Hammer Strike.”
Hammer Strike looked over to Vital. “Hey, what’s up?”
“Something that’s been bothering me. I was wondering if you might be able to help at some point, after things aren’t quite so dire here.” The Unicorn stepped forward to observe some of the spearheads and other pieces the smith had forged.
“And that is?”
“You have an ability that lets you,” he furrowed his brow, “find things that are in the past? At least, I think that’s how Grif put it.”
“It’s not exactly something easy for me to manage,” Hammer Strike replied. “What are you looking for?”
“The event that prompted the signal to be sent to the main invasion force in the Stampede Grounds was an assassination, one that was supposedly caused by another Zebra. Mwalimu is convinced it was an outcast. If we were to take you to where the attack occurred, would you potentially be able to figure out who did it, and possibly how to track them down?”
Hammer Strike sighed. “Is it that important to know?”
“It might go a long ways towards solidifying a lasting peace between the Longhorns and the Zebras, instead of the neutrality that’s usually been kept. That, and culturally speaking, the Longhorns can’t stop searching for their chief’s murderers, until they succeed. The only things keeping them from resuming that quest are the war and the hostage situation with their cow. It would free their minds to focus more on the combat and less on that particular wound.”
Hammer Strike frowned as he thought things over. “Even if I tell you, it depends heavily on my legend for the validity of it. If they don’t believe it, I can’t help you there.”
“Do you know how far back in time your legend spreads in this region?”
“Not a clue. I don’t really pay attention to it.”
“It sounds like I might need to have a talk with Grif, then. I’ll let you know, once I get a little more homework done, but thanks for being willing to help.” Vital Smiled. “I really missed you guys, you know. Even without my memories, I still got a few glimpses of each of you during my stay.”
“Should I wonder how you got some of these glimpses?
“I don’t think so. I’m pretty sure it was just bits and pieces of my memories surfacing. They only triggered during events where traits or physical characteristics that bore a resemblance to you occurred.”
Hammer Strike shrugged. “All right, then. In any case, is there anything else you need?”
“I don’t think so. I need to go, though. I’ve got a meeting with Zecora, and I’m going to be late, if I don’t hurry. Anything you need from me, before I go?”
“Nothing,” he shook his head. “Off with you. I’ve got weapons to finish.”
The humid jungle air left everything in a muggy state as the light began to fade. The leaves of the trees shed drops of moisture, after having endured yet another downpour. Despite the conditions, the warriors had continued to train, and many a recruit were off to wash the mud out of their fur and manes. Vital Spark waited patiently at the village’s edge, his legs folded and forehooves meeting in the hollow between as he meditated. It didn’t take much longer for the familiar sound of hooves squelching in the mud to greet his ears.
“I’m here,” Zecora said somewhat sulkily.
“So I see,” Vital said as he raised himself back onto all fours. “Are you ready for our patrol?” he asked, casting a quick glance toward the Zebra on sentry duty.
“Did you find someone to replace you?” she asked. “I doubt Grif will be very happy, if he needs a translation and you’re not available.”
Vital shrugged. “Mkuta agreed to cover for me, and I was able to convince Grif that this was important enough not to wait.”
“Lead on, then,” Zecora said. “We haven’t got all night.”
Vital Spark chuckled. “True enough.”
They journeyed deep into the reaches, guided by a dim phosphorescent powder the Unicorn had sprinkled on his staff. At last, they stepped out into a clearing teeming with life. Great glowing mushrooms jutted out from the trunks of trees, like steps, as they spiraled ever upward toward the leafy canopy, interspersed with long, thick green tendrils. A pallid blue light filtered through the air as golden flecks bobbed gently on unforseen currents.
“It’s not your sanctuary, but I thought it would be appropriate for our talk. The spores keep predators at bay, so nobody will be here to disturb us.” His horn glowed as he concentrated his magic, then fired a beam into the air to enclose the pair of them in a pulsing blue dome. “And now nobody will be able to hear us either, if we were followed.”
“So, you wanted to talk?” Zecora pressed.
Vital nodded. “Did anyone tell you what happened, after you were knocked unconscious?”
“I know Mustafa did something to provide an opening for the rest of you to escape.” Her face fell somewhat. “And I know it cost him his life to do so. I really am sorry, Vital Spark.”
“He warned me it was coming.” Vital shook his head. “You are aware that certain spirits that you speak to have more power than others. They are older, stronger, and hopefully wiser.” The Pony began to pace as he took on a lecturer’s tone. “When Mustafa first met with me, he identified the Earth Mother by another name, one that is well known to me, because we have spoken once before.”
“You what?” Zecora balked.
“Questions can be saved for after the discourse, thank you,” Vital said primly. “Few, if any Zebras know that name, Zecora. I’m not surprised, frankly. She’s a mother, after all. She prefers to be called such. Mustafa knew, however, because he was old, far older than any of us could have guessed, I think.”
“It’s not unusual for a Zebra to live to be a hundred, if they take good care of themselves,” Zecora noted.
“Try multiplying that by at least ten,” Vital said. “When Mustafa sacrificed himself, he called on an ancient power, one that his body was no longer fit to handle, but one he chose to wield for our sake. He literally became an embodiment of fire, Zecora. It poured from his eyes, his hooves. It surged from the ground, consuming any unfortunate enough to get too close to you or your father.” He looked wistful as he recalled the old Zebra’s final moments. “Before the flames consumed him, he talked about fire, and he dropped some very heavy hints about where his power stemmed from, or rather whom. Since the air is soundproofed, I feel safe enough to divulge that name here.”
Vital took a deep breath and released, then looked back to his foster sibling. “The entity of which he spoke is a divine being whose power rivals that of the gods, and could possibly even exceed a god’s, for all I know. His species is formally known as Titan. His name is Prometheus.” He shook his head. “I can’t even begin to conceive the nature of the contract or magics involved. All I can tell you is that, for lack of a better term, Mustafa was Prometheus’ avatar, granted the ability to channel the Titan’s spirit, consciousness, and power. For all intents and purposes, he was Prometheus’ eyes and ears, keeping an eye on all of you and waiting patiently, quite possibly for the very day that he would sacrifice himself for the sake of the future, a future that he heavily implied would have to do with you.
“To be specific, he said the time had come for his story to end and a new one to begin. He then looked directly at you. At the time, I thought it was sentiment, and possibly the future you would help bring as the next chieftain of the Moyo Wa Roho. Now that I have my memories back, however, I know better.”
Vital Spark approached Zecora’s flank and prodded the new mark. “If I’m not mistaken, you are his chosen successor to inherit a contract that is perhaps the greatest honor any Zebra could ever ask to receive, but also the heaviest burden.”
“Stop talking in riddles and say what’s on your mind already, Vital Spark,” Zecora snapped as she batted the prodding hoof away.
“All right,” Vital said as he drew himself up and pulled back a ways to sit comfortably on his haunches. “To be blunt about it, you are now an avatar of a higher power, Zecora. And the name of that higher power is none other than Gaia, the Earth Mother, Mother of all Living. She has many more titles, but frankly, I don’t know them all, and we don’t have the time to list them, regardless.”
“That’s a ridiculous claim to make, Vital Spark.”
“Zecora, it’s also the truth, and you can drop the act, because I’ve already seen her twice. Your secret is out. If your contract with Gaia required your silence, you can break it with me without consequence. Besides, if I’m not mistaken, she’s been preparing you for this role for years now.”
“And what makes you say that?”
“Why else would there be a hidden sanctuary only you and those you give permission to can access growing right next to the mountain?” Vital stared his sister down. “I understand the need to keep this under wraps, Zecora, but come on. If you keep this up, I’ll abjure her to show herself, though, frankly, I need her to do that, anyways, so if you could get her to take over for a bit, I’d really appreciate it.”
“Vital Spark–.”
“It’s important, Zecora.”
Zecora sighed and shook her head. “What am I going to do with you, Vital Spark?”
“Trust your little brother to actually know what he’s talking about?”
Zecora rolled her eyes, then sighed as her shoulders slumped. When she opened her eyes again, they glowed a brilliant green as the clearing came alive and Vital watched the vines and greenery spread across the mare’s body as it had in the future and as it had appeared through his adder stone.
“What is it, Vital, dear?” her suddenly dual-toned voice asked. “You know I’m still very tired, after that incident with the windigos.”
“I’ll try to keep this brief, Gaia, but there are some things you need to know about the future, where I met you for the first time, and we need some answers to help with this war. I’m not going to ask you to take any sides, just for some information to level the playing field, so to speak.”
“Speak quickly, then, Vital Spark.”
Vital Spark drew himself up to stare at the monarch of nature. “All right. Let’s start off from the beginning.”
Pensword nodded as he finished drawing his hoof across the stone wall of the bathroom. A diagonal line now stretched across four others, an indicator of the time that had passed since his new imprisonment. His wings were still sore and stiff, but it didn’t hurt as much to move them anymore. At this rate, it would only be a few more days, before they were fit to fly again, or so he hoped.
Now that he was properly detained, the Minotaurs had lessened the salt doses, allowing the Pegasus to regain his senses as he wrestled with the headache of a hangover. How could salt even do that? He frowned as he heard the familiar crunching rumble of stone grating on stone as his captors entered. Three burly warriors approached, while one hung back to guard the entrance. The leader of their party held a gold-embroidered leather leash and a shining metallic collar that glinted gold.
Pensword narrowed his eyes in distaste as the creature approached. It seemed they wanted to take him on a walk. He glared at them, but allowed the humiliation. It was too soon to start being a pain. He needed more time to plan, and he needed to make sure his wings were in top shape, before he attempted an escape. The roof had a few shadowed ledges he was able to pick out before. He could get away from them up there, for a while, assuming he could be stealthy enough. Unfortunately, he didn’t have much more time to focus on that particular plan as a harsh yank nearly jerked his head off his neck, causing him to stumble in response. Pensword barely managed to suppress his growl of outrage at the bull’s cocky sneer. He was not some dumb animal for them to parade and train at their convenience.
They would learn the error of their ways.
They passed through a series of streets and alleyways, the bulls’ heads held high with pride as they paraded on either side of the hybrid. Calves, heifers, bulls, and cows of all ages looked on with intrigue, curiosity, and perhaps a hint of jealousy. Pensword’s ears practically buzzed with the sound of hushed whispers, gentle lowes, and loud cries, all directed at him.
It was a great relief, when they finally passed beyond the hustle and bustle of the busy streets and entered a side alley that led to a thick set of perfectly carved stone stairs. There was no sign of decay or even a hint of misalignment as they began their ascent. Whoever had laid the staircase in the first place was either exceptionally skilled or this was something more, possibly the result of some alien magic. He tapped a hoof along the material experimentally as he cocked his ears, straining to hear any sign of a fault of weakness.
Unfortunately, he was not to find his answer as his guards and jailers yanked at the collar, yet again, sending him sprawling onto the hard steps and leaving several marks he knew would blossom into bruises by the end of their outing. This time, Pensword did allow himself a growl.
“Watch it,” he snapped.
The Minotaur holding his leash just tossed his head back and laughed raucously with his fellows as they carried on with tears of mirth standing in their eyes. Pensword glared as he eyed his captors. All he had to do was watch and wait, for now. He continued to remind himself of the vital nature of that patience as he watched the bulls more carefully. Information gathering would be his best weapon, at least for now. The more he knew about his captors, the more easily he could defeat them, when the time came to escape.
Their path ultimately led to a long arching walkway high above the city and its sprawling rooftops. The wind blew pleasantly, and Pensword could feel the familiar current of an updraft tickling playfully at his wings, teasing him with its invitation of forbidden delight, the freedom of the open sky. Then the wind changed its direction and the overwhelming scent of his guards reminded him only too well what would happen, were he to give in to those temptations, even if his wings weren’t already injured. The bulls would haul him up short and he would find himself choking as the collar yanked at his throat, restricting his windpipe.
They didn’t allow him much time to enjoy the view. Instead, they continued plodding along, before taking another series of confusing turns. It seemed almost as though the city itself were designed as a maze. Then again, considering the nature of his captors, it was quite possible that was the case. They descended once more and passed through a series of buildings and halls, each one unique in its own right. Pensword still felt like they were crossing their tracks, but the scenery said otherwise. Finally, a few floors down, they came to a dead end.
The bulls reached out to the great wall and shoved it aside with a slam of a shoulder. The fearful trilling and alarmed shrieks of birds assaulted Pensword’s ears as the portal revolved behind them and ground shut on its axis, leaving neither mark nor seam behind. Three familiar peacocks drank with a calm aloofness from their pool as the other birds tried to flee, smashing into the net above. Pensword immediately set to work analyzing his surroundings. Now that he was actually outdoors, he could search for any potential weaknesses or tools that he could stow or hide. He still didn’t know how often these outings would be taking place, but the fact they were willing to let him out for fresh air this once indicated it would at least have a certain amount of repetition involved. He just needed to remain alert for how often that repetition occurred.
After taking his time to get his bearings from the sun’s arc overhead, he found his cell windows in the northeastern corner of the garden. Assuming the Minotaurs continued to take him along this route each time, or at least the same entrance, then there would be a likely means he could utilize to escape, though it would be risky. He needed a proper plan first: a means of escape and a distraction to keep his jailors occupied, until it was too late. With that purpose firmly in mind, he went about his task, searching through the garden’s wide grounds for anything he might be able to use.
The sun continued to beat harshly, and though Pensword was no longer being drugged, he still felt weary under the blistering desert heat. His dark fur coat certainly didn’t help in that regard, nor did the light’s effect on his head as the headache began to intensify. After taking a much needed drink from the pool, he slunk his way over to the shadiest spot he could find. As he lay huffing gently against the wall, trying to get the pain under control again, his ears twitched to the sound of faint scrabbling. His head immediately swung up towards the source. He winced slightly, but endured the pain. Long vines wove together as they strove to climb up the building and cling to its structure, finding rest and purchase within the window sills as their tendrils poked through gaps in worn planking.
Pensword listened again, and as the throbbing in his ears dulled to a low thrum, a smile pulled at his lips. Through the beating haze, a familiar scree passed into his ears, barely louder than a sigh, but he knew it for what it was immediately, and what it meant. There were bats in that building, and they were within easy reach, once he got his wings back, anyways.
“Hello, distraction,” he purred delightedly.
There weren’t many tools he could make proper use of in the place. The pebbles were too smooth, the plant life too supple. The only place he might be able to find what he was looking for was also the same place he needed to keep as shut up and undisturbed as possible. Yet, if they had nails holding those boards, even rusted, then his search for a proper cutting implement could be over. It would be a conundrum to work out on another day. For now, he had lush grass and open sky. He was going to enjoy it, while he could.
He traced his hoof idly over the turf, carving out the symbols in his mind’s eye as he pondered which might be the most useful in disturbing his captors. That being said, he knew it was a gamble, and one he should approach with caution. Giving the wrong impression could easily make him a bargaining chip, rather than a prisoner, and he didn’t fancy being sold to the Gryphons, if they’d landed in a time period near the Third Gryphon War, like Zecora had mentioned.”
“Perhaps Luna’s cutie mark, then,” he mused. “And Celestia’s, too. Surely, they must have heard of their strength in combat.” He nodded decisively. “Yes, I think we’ll start there. I’m sure a few stones from the garden here would work quite nicely for the task.” He chuckled then. “And maybe a few kilroys to liven up the place.” He smirked. “Yes, I like that.”
Grif sat by the firelight. The hour was late, and nearly everyone else had headed to their tents to sleep. A small redwood box lay cradled in his talons. The wood showed some age. The lacquer had worn away, allowing the wood to start to dry and splinter in places. On each face of the box was a mural, or at least Grif assumed such, since each mural was made of several intricate squares that had been arranged and rearranged several times. In the silence of the night, with the firelight to guide him, he worked. His talons clicked gently with each slip. In truth, Grif had managed to solve the puzzle on the top face of the box with ease. It was a depiction of Gryphelheim as it had once been, before the winds had been lost. This, however, was the only image he’d managed to solve so far. He’d tried on several of the murals over the last few hours, only to uncover small pieces. A Gryphon here, the depiction of a Zebra there. He had been allowed up to three days to attempt to solve the puzzle. Afterwards, the box would be returned to the tribe.
He sighed as he set the box down and turned to the other toys and gadgets left behind by the famous inventor. Picking them up, he studied each for what felt like the hundredth time, trying to find some connection, some hidden clue that might help him determine how to open the box. First thing when he got back, he’d ask Avalon for a divining spell, but Avalon couldn’t help him now.
There were several smaller metal figures that came with the box. Three Gryphons: an older one; one that seemed to be a depiction of one of the kings, with a large pointed crown on his brow; and a cub; as well as several Zebras. There was also a device the inventor had left behind, a large flat plate of volcanic glass bordered in steel with a moonstone set upon it. As Grif tried to find some hidden mechanism or feature, he held the plate up high. The clouds above parted and the dim light of the waning crescent moon shone down from overhead. Several clicks sounded as the moonstone on the plate glowed brightly. The obsidian split and slid into the frame, revealing rose glass beneath. The rose glass magnified the light caught by the moonlight and the stone, before shining down on the figurines. As it did so, certain of the toys began to glow.
The figures of the child Gryphon and the king glowed a brilliant red, while the figures of the older Gryphon and the Zebras glowed a gentle blue. Curious, Grif reached out and removed the two Gryphons. The instant they were out of the light, the remaining blue figures began to move. With clockwork precision, the older Gryphon stood in front of the crowd of Zebras. The figure grabbed a rock and began to carve at it with retractable talons. Then he handed the now box-shaped rock to one of the Zebras, a child, Grif thought, while the others danced. Then the figures froze, standing perfectly still in their new configuration.
A spark of inspiration hit Grif, and he carefully reached for the box. Using one hand, he shuffled it with his talon, until he had the back panel before him. Sure enough, he could already see matching shapes among the jumble he had barely managed to match on his own. Now that he had a proper idea of the scene, he got to work moving the tiles as fast as he could. Just as he slid the last tile into place, the clouds covered the moon and the tablet slid shut. The figures immediately reconfigured themselves, until they looked exactly as they had before.
“Gandalfi, you snake,” Grif laughed as he looked at the image on the box, a picture of a Gryphon handing an object to a young Zebra as the others celebrated around them. And then Grif suddenly found himself trapped with a dilemma. How does one get all the phases of the moon, within three days?
“All right, gentlemen,” Vital said seriously as he sat at the table one of the mares had carried in from the training grounds. Grif fiddled occasionally with his puzzle box, while Hammer Strike stared with his usual neutral gaze. “Gather close. I’m going to cast a few protective charms, and then we can proceed.”
“Whats up?” Grif asked, still not looking up from his work as he drew a little closer.
Vital looked briefly in Hammer Strike’s direction, before nodding and firing off a stream of magic into the air above them. It coalesced into a glowing ball of energy encased in a series of runes, before streaming a cascade of light down to touch the floor in a rigid structure.
“Gentlemen, welcome to the cone of silence,” Vital said with just a hint of a smirk. That soon faded, however, as he looked to both of his friends. “What I am about to reveal to you here cannot be spread to anyone else in the village, Unity, or anywhere else. I know that I can trust you, but the promise I made requires me to ask this of you. Will the both of you swear to keep this between the three of us, barring extenuating circumstances?”
“What, exactly, has you so cautious as to do this?” Hammer Strike questioned.
“To be perfectly blunt, the fact that if the Zebras here knew, there would be intense complications for the party involved, not the least of which being the issue of the age-old grudge between Minotaur and Zebra. You guys remember when I took my violin to visit Zecora, back in the present, right?”
“Yes.” Grif nodded.
“Well, to identify the nature of the magic in my violin, I had to cast a certain spell. That spell would have normally put me in touch with a powerful spirit of nature. Well, I suppose it still did, technically, but not in the way either of us expected.” Vital took a deep breath. “Gentlemen, Zecora is the avatar to Gaia.”
Somewhere outside, a cricket chirped.
“I suspected,” Grif offered, after a few minutes.
“And did you also suspect that the stones of power used to banish your gods came from her children?”
“That, I didn’t know,” Grif admitted.
“After I alerted Gaia to our current situation, and of certain facts she would need to be aware of for our first encounter in the future, I asked if she knew of a means we could utilize to help control the divider across the land, rather than having to try to force our way through, as the Minotaurs did. As it turns out, the wall was the doing of said children as an act to stop the fighting between their adopted children, the Zebras, and the children of the hecatonchires, whom you already know are the Minotaurs. If we want to bring that wall down, we’re going to have to convince them to do it. More importantly, we need to convince them to get involved, thanks to a certain prophecy about this war that the rest of the shamans and diviners finally deemed fit to reveal.”
Vital sighed. “Unfortunately, these Titans decided to do what all sulking deities do, when things go south: come up with an extremely convoluted magical requirement to open the way to wake them in the first place. Fortunately for us, we already have what we need to do so. It requires at least one Zebra and one Minotaur to arrive in peace and work in unison to break their seal. Gaia recommended we take a prominent and skilled member of the shamans among the Zebras. I assume, because they are the ones who are most closely attuned to the spirits of the land. Under normal circumstances, I would recommend we send Fjüra as the representative, since she is their sacred cow, but since she’s currently our leverage, we’ll need to choose another candidate from their tribe for the journey.”
“Has there been much trouble over her decision to stay as our hostage?” Grif asked.
“Not much that I’ve seen outwardly, but I doubt it sits well with them that she agreed to it in the first place,” Vital replied.
“Good. It’s clear that if we want to be effective, we’re going to need more of them in our raiding parties,” Grif said.
“True. And assuming all goes well, it would be a simple thing for them to infiltrate and kill the sentries,” Vital agreed.
“It seems we’ll need to also bring the officers up to some kind of code. No offense, Vital, but some of their methods are … not the best,” Grif noted. He looked to Hammer Strike. “Think you can take care of that?”
“I can bring some more training methods up, I suppose, though my time is currently split, due to the situation with their equipment,” Hammer Strike frowned.
“How goes the smith training?” Vital asked.
“Slowly,” he replied with a sigh. “Most of the things I’m teaching are basically entirely new concepts to them.”
“Are they at least teachable?”
“To a point.”
Vital sighed. “Who’s the troublemaker?”
“As stated, it’s not so much trouble, so much as it’s a slow learning process for them,” Hammer Strike replied simply.
“So, going back to the officers, exactly what did you two have in mind?” Vital asked. “And will we also be including the Minotaurs in some of those exercises?”
“We’re going to have to work the Minotaurs in, and a means to differentiate them from the others. We can’t have the Zebras attacking them, when the real fighting starts. As for the officers, well, we need to go over tactics and update their normal strategy. Also, there needs to be a few lessons on morale.”
“As in how to keep it high?”
“Yes.” Grif nodded. “For us to win, the troops have to believe we can win.”
“Any way I can be of assistance? Other than the obvious translating, I mean.”
“Did Clover teach you anything interesting with enchantments?” Grif asked.
“Grif, this is Clover we’re talking about. Of course she taught me ‘interesting’ things with enchantments. Are we talking the kinds you cast on foes or the kinds you use to reinforce weapons?”
“Reinforce weapons, armor, stones. I’m trying to find interesting ways to surprise our enemy.”
“Oh, yeah. Those are the low level spells. They’re easy for me to perform.”
“Okay, I want you to start thinking of things you can do to make this war a lot more interesting for the Minotaurs.”
“Ours or the enemy?” Vital asked.
“The enemy,” Grif said, facetaloning.
Vital smirked. “What can I say? The more things change, the more they stay the same, birdbrain.” He winked. “I’ll see what surprises I can come up with. Now, as for the ones to send on this little sidequest, I think we should each keep an eye out for our recruits and choose our own candidates from both sides, then meet again to discuss. Agreed?”
“Agreed.”
“If that’s all, I have some work to get back to,” Hammer Strike commented. “The ‘new’ forge needs almost constant maintenance.”
“I think that’s everything, unless you guys have something else you think we need to discuss,” Vital said as he charged up his horn to dispel his enchantment. “See you guys in the next meeting.”
Commander Pensword smiled as he woke. The sun was barely rising, and a gentle lowing echoed over the still morning air. First came the singing of a richer baritone, then the response with a series of heavy basses calling back to welcome the morning in a cascading chorus that rippled up and down the scales. There was power in those calls, and a sense of something ancient reverberating through the stones, vibrating his very hooves. There was only one word that could be put to this music: Hymn. They were singing a hymn. But what could they be singing to? Did the Minotaurs have gods?
He allowed himself the luxury of pondering such thoughts in silence, until the last echoes died away and the city was quiet, once again. It was … surprisingly soothing, in its own way, and served to help clear his mind. That and the garden were the few things that offered comfort in his imprisonment, and they certainly weren’t enough motivation to remain. He flexed his wings briefly, then rolled out of bed. The usual guards were still patrolling his enclosure, but the rest of the staff wouldn’t be arriving for a while, yet.
Seven days had passed now, and he had built a tolerance to the salt, at least to a degree where he could keep his head mostly clear. What had once struck his addled mind as a palace had now revealed itself to be little more than a glorified zoo, most likely one designed specifically for the public. Knowing that, and the arrogance of his captors, it was a simple enough thing to put himself through basic exercises.
As he always did, he sat on his haunches and slowly extended his wings. The moment he felt any sign of pain, he would retract them and allow the chance to continue healing. So it had been for the last week. Now, however, he felt no such pain, no twinges of upset, not even a hint of an ache. He smirked.
“Finally,” he said as he breathed a sigh of relief. He began to test his range of motion, when, quite suddenly, he found himself in the grasp of a bull pinning his wings tightly against his sides with one arm, before throwing him into the main room and eying him expectantly.
Pensword glared at the bull. So much for his little surprise. Still, if they wanted to have a show, then he might as well give them one. It had been too long since he’d been able to fly, and his wings ached to have the wind beneath his feathers again.
He closed his eyes and filtered out the noise, a tactic he had finally learned to master, after many painful lessons with Luna. He flared his wings, testing the muscles and the tightness thereof. He rustled his feathers, loosening the dust that had accumulated between them in a shimmering cloud. With one flex, he channeled his magic through them and smiled giddily as he heard and felt the cloud blast out into the watching bovines’ faces. The bellows of outrage were music to his ears.
Now that he had succeeded in channeling his power, he stretched his wings to the farthest extent, then snapped them down with all the force he could muster. And suddenly, he was off. The air was hot and stagnant, but it was blowing through his mane all the same, filling him with that familiar sense of exultation. He couldn’t resist. The whoop of joy burst out in a loud cry as he looped, swooped, glided, and spun in the air, testing his capabilities, probing his weaknesses. His ears twitched as a low murur rose up from the windows interspersed with oohs and ahs. He had clearly caught his captors’ attention. Good. With enough time, he might be able to use that against them.
Breakfast came shortly after his little performance, and he was quite surprised to find that his hosts had supplied him with a roasted fish. It was nothing special, but it was proper meat, something he hadn’t been able to enjoy for a while. His captors had even been kind enough to provide him with a makeshift seat in the form of a smooth wooden box. An accompaniment of fresh and dried fruits sat in a wooden bowl next to the fish. He ate with a reserved calm, despite the raging urge to tear into the meal with abandon.
The guard watching him laughed as he plodded away, uttering what equated to a grunting sort of snort, with just a hint of a low. Pensword furrowed his brow at the sound, pausing in his meal to process what he had just heard, before attempting to replicate it. The sound was slow and halting, and it hurt to drop to such a low register, but it was a sound.
And it didn’t go unnoticed.
The Minotaur froze and rounded, his eyes wide. Pensword tried again, pleased to see he had caused his captor a certain amount of distress. That pleasure soon curdled, however, as the Minotaur smirked, then began to laugh. He tried a few more sounds, which Pensword dutifully attempted to replicate. It wasn’t until he heard the repeated cries from patrons that had begun to gather at the antics that he finally understood what was going on. They weren’t interested in his learning the language. All they wanted to do was teach him how to say certain sentences. Not only was he to be a prisoner, he was to be their parrot.
Pensword glared at the spectators and quickly finished his meal, before taking flight and rising to the rafters. He would remember this treatment, when his time came, and they would know his wrath for daring to treat him like some dumb animal. He settled on a ledge and let his body begin to digest as he the warm air caressed his feathers.
He wasn’t sure how long he’d been asleep. All he knew was that, miraculously, his captors had decided to let him have the power nap undisturbed. He assumed they must have taken some pleasure in watching his sleeping posture. Such a thing was a novelty in a species they hadn’t interacted with before.
With nothing better to do, the commander stretched, then went about examining the upper reaches of his enclosure. The interior of the domes was a simple white. There were no paintings or mosaics, like one might find in the Taj Mahal or some other grand construction.
His ears twitched at the sound of grating stone as his captors entered the room. He looked down easily to see the guard looking up with a suspicious glare and what appeared to be a whip. Were they really so concerned that they thought he would attempt an escape here and now? Pensword rolled his eyes at the bull, then settled back down on the perch, before making a shooing motion with his hoof. The bull’s eyes narrowed. He snorted angrily as his hooves scuffed against the floor, but he didn’t act, a fact that was not lost on Pensword. It seemed they were authorized to do whatever had to be done to keep him in captivity, but any harm that was unjustified would likely be punished.
“Excellent,” Pensword said with a smirk as he curled up, once again, in a pantomime of the sleep he had entered before, until the guard seemed satisfied.
Once the annoyance had left, Pensword returned to his examination, before flying back down to the ground, where his original seat had been joined by two new ones. Whether they planned to expand this new menagerie or simply provide him more perches, he wasn’t sure, but he would take advantage of it, if he could. He put on some show of curiosity at the additions, for the sake of the crowd, even as he inspected each surface. A hint of a smile crossed his lips as he passed from perch to perch, flaring his wings as an extra show. He preened at them, all while surreptitiously examining the surface of the boxes. He wasn’t disappointed as his eyes spotted the dull glint of metal jutting from a corner of the surface.
He blew at his mane as the edges of it began to sway in his vision. He was going to need a cut soon, but it wasn’t likely to happen in captivity like this. He would just have to endure it for now.
With his analysis complete, he flew back up to his perch and bided his time. There were too many witnesses for now. Someone was bound to notice, if he claimed the nail now. He continued to play to his audience, until it was time for bed. In due course, he finally rose from his act, when all was still and the cold night air blew against his fur through the bars of his windows.
He was quick to his task, ghosting on dark wings to the exact box. His enhanced night vision proved a perfect boon as he gradually worked the nail out from its place in the wood, being careful not to make too much noise. After what felt like an age, the sharpened metal finally came free, and Pensword retreated with his prize. The remainder of the night was spent gradually etching away at the ceiling and portions of his enclosure, where the Minotaurs would see them. Stars, the moon, the mighty ursa, the five-pointed star that represented the heavenly guardian Polaris.
He worked, until early in the morning. As the quality of light began to change, he quickly flew back up to a ledge in the dome and hid the nail, before flying back to his bedroom. His wings cramped as he landed, and he nearly crashed into the surface as he grit his teeth in pain. Too much exertion too fast had wrought its vengeance. He panted as the muscle spasms racked his back, tying it in knots, before finally easing the tension to leave that uneasy ache that was the final result. A good day’s rest, and all would be in working order again. Hopefully, the sacrifice would be worth it.
He was surprised to find the Minotaurs hadn’t disturbed him, when he woke. The afternoon sun shone brilliantly, and a large bowl of fruit awaited him, along with a series of stones and what appeared to be wooden tools shaped like celestial bodies. Apparently, the creatures respected his artwork. Either that or they found it entertaining. Regardless, he was grateful that he would have the chance to explore. Perhaps, given time, he might even find the right combination to frighten them, without going too far. He smiled then as he went about his other exercises. The wings needed the break, but he could still work his other body parts.
“Let’s see how well I can keep you lot distracted, hmm?” he muttered.
Vital Spark frowned as he looked over the pair of spears before him. The one had been carefully carved with a series of runes along its shaft. The other remained unblemished. He looked to the makeshift production line that had been formed as various Zebras worked to help mount spearheads, craft hilts and grips, and put on other finishing touches, before laying the articles neatly into piles for the Unicorn to work with next.
“What do you think, Hammer Strike?” the Unicorn asked. “On the one side, the runes would likely last longer and grant greater durability, not to mention the ability to recharge from ambient magical sources. The standard enchantment, on the other hand, is only good for so many strikes, before the spell breaks. I can layer them, but that will only do so much for the weapons in question. On the other hand, by using the spell matrices, instead, we can avoid the possibility of the Minotaurs recreating the runic enhancements in their own weapons.”
“Pushing a bit far into this, but if it can keep things going, then go for it,” Hammer Strike shrugged. “The spears themselves can be easily managed, so it’s mostly just delaying.”
“True, but I was also referring to the other weapons, like the hunga munga. Then again, I suppose I could also include a concealment charm woven around the runes to ensure they can’t be seen by unfriendly eyes. The only way they’d be able to tell the difference then would be if they had a competent mage with them.”
“I’d suggest leaning more towards enchantments that can improve the weapon in terms of combat.”
“Fair enough.” Vital nodded as he levitated a set of spears in front of him. A series of circling sigils spun counter to one another in layers before him as his horn ignited. He uttered an authoritative incantation and the spears all glowed, before the Unicorn levitated them to rest against the wall of the supply hut, where Zebras stood waiting to add them to their weapons stockpile. “So, at this rate, how much longer will we need to stockpile, before we’re ready to push back?” he asked in Equish.
“Not much more, to be honest,” Hammer Strike commented. “As long as Grif is teaching them right, we should be moving soon enough.”
“Good. I want to get Pensword back as soon as possible.”
“We all do.”
“And thats what happened,” Grif said as he sat across from Hammer Strike. They were alone in one of the empty huts. Grif had finished explaining the incident with the onyx sheet and the figures earlier.
“Well, that’s certainly something,” Hammer Strike hummed. “And it was just left here?”
“Gandalfi was a genius, when it came to small parts and mechanisms. Before he vanished, it was said he was forced by the Empire to work on a weapon that would change things for the Gryphon soldiers.”
“And how did that turn out, exactly?”
“He supposedly died in a fire that destroyed his shop and everything in it,” Grif explained. “Apparently, he ended up here.”
“Certainly a way to escape from it all. Just fake your own death and flee in the carnage.” He frowned as he thought over things.
“Anyway, it seems he rigged the figures to play out the scenes from the puzzle box under specific moonlight,” Grif noted.
“You plan on waiting out each phase to see the differences?”
“The Zebras gave me three days. One of them is already done. I need something a little faster.”
“How many phases do you need?”
“Three, but I don’t know which ones.”
Hammer Strike frowned as he thought things over. “You need just the moonlight, correct?”
“Yes.”
“As long as nothing physical comes through, I could make minor rifts,” Hammer Strike hummed. “We would need a perfect dark space, which isn’t complicated, and I could use that to project the moonlight from the past or future through,” he replied, scratching his beard in thought.
“How long could you hold it?”
“The energy drain is only matter-based. I can open minor rifts at any point of this month, without a marker, and it would be the same energy cost, until different forms of matter and aspects are involved.”
“Okay,” Grif nodded. “I’ll have everything set up for tomorrow night then.”
“I’ll have to plan out everything on the thaumic side of things,” Hammer Strike hummed. “Perhaps I can just make an aspect filter, like a dome, and just keep light from entering it…” he muttered in thought.
“As long as you don’t push yourself,” Grif noted. “Who knows what’s coming yet.”
“I’ll keep my energy reserves well enough,” the Earth Pony replied with a dismissive wave. After a second, he pulled out his book and began reading once more.
Grif nodded as he headed to the door and slipped out into the night. It was time to hunt.
Dunmar Ironhide snorted gently through his nostrils as he trod carefully through the broad trunks and wide leaves of the rainforest. The air was thick with the scent of moisture, and blood already dripped from his great axe, after dealing with the sudden attack of a wild lion. Once they’d spilled its guts, the remainder of its fellows in the jungle seemed to want to leave them alone, a wise move on their parts. With war officially declared, it was only a matter of time, before they found the cowardly Zebras. They had abandoned all the land they claimed to care so much about. Now, the scout simply had to locate the hidden village and they could bring a swift end to this war.
He stepped out into a large clearing filled with healthy mushrooms and other fungi. The air was thick with the scent of their spores. There was something … different about this place. The air seemed almost to resonate with a golden light, while a series of delicate white blossoms bloomed and glowed. Long leafy green tendrils spanned the forest floor and rose up the tree trunks. A gentle breeze played through the air, blowing the spores and pollen all over his fur, coating it in gold. A dull smile pulled at the bull’s lips as he stepped deeper into the clearing. He took deeper breaths as his pupils began to dilate, and he let out a deep, husky chuckle as he shambled over towards a mass of the fungi that had sprouted into what formed the equivalent of a throne-like chair. The tendrils sighed as they shifted, the white flowers shaking along them, beckoning.
Dunmar was not about to disappoint. He clopped over and settled down without another thought as the ivy slowly drew itself up over his frame. His smile gradually widened into an unthinking grin. Two blossoms drifted down to his ears and inserted themselves, stretching their stamen deep into his ear canals. Dunmar shuddered, then lowed gently in pleasure.
“I hear you,” he said huskily. The wind rustled through the clearing again as Dunmar dropped his head low. “Beautiful….” he sighed, even as he gazed dreamily into space. The ivy drew tighter around him. His eyes began to glow green. “Tell me more….”
Off in the distance, Vital Spark shuddered at the sight. “Boy, am I glad Ivy’s on our side,” he said as he turned to face Zecora.
“It’s not just her, you know. Sure, she’s the one influencing his mind, but the whole forest is upset over what the Minotaurs are doing. They broke the peace. You’ve heard the saying, hell hath no fury, I assume.”
“And nature is always described as a she.”
Zecora smiled. “Very good, Vital Spark. Treat her right, and she’ll return the sentiment in kind. Don’t, and, well, that is the result.”
“Will she let him go?”
“After he’s received instruction, yes,” Zecora said. “I’m not sure if he’ll kill the people in his camp or try to bring them here for the forest to deal with them. Either way, I’m afraid his life is forfeit.”
Vital sighed. “I wish it didn’t have to be this way.”
“We all do, Vital Spark.” Zecora laid a hoof on her adopted brother’s shoulder. “Come. We should check the other traps. It won’t do well to allow a body to give away our tricks just yet.”
Vital Spark nodded morosely. “Yeah. Let’s go.”
Vital Spark stared pensively at a small spherical stone about the size of a globe. It sat atop a carefully shaped pedestal as he paced slowly around it in the training yard.
“So, to clarify, to the spirits, earth is earth, correct? They don’t mind if it takes another form or breaks apart. That’s a part of the natural cycle, after all. What matters, really matters, is when someone threatens the balance that they’re trying to maintain, right?”
Mwalimu sat with Fjüra on his left. A group of Zebra guards maintained a perimeter with a wide enough berth to avoid any potential … accidents, as Vital Spark had put it. Considering the stories that had spread about his ice magic and how deadly it could be, especially in a humid environment, they knew better than to risk something potentially going wrong and getting caught in it.
“That is the long of the short of it,” Mwalimu agreed. “Provided what you’re considering won’t negatively impact the balance of nature and life in the region, it shouldn’t cause any offense.”
“Of course, one could always council with the spirits about what one has planned and save any potential trouble,” Fjüra noted.
Vital Spark shuddered. “I’d … rather not bother Ivy. This week is hers as envoy, and she can be a little … clingy.”
Mwalimu chuckled. “Has she taken a liking to you, Vital Spark?”
Vital Spark blushed and quickly turned aside to redirect their attention to the stone. “This rock is highly condensed, as per the request I made of the spirits, and with some help from Fjüra, since she has more experience in the finer aspects of manipulating earth. Now, I’m not sure if you two are aware of this, but where I come from, there is a theory of what we call harmonic resonance.
“The basics of this theory are that there is a key tone in the sound spectrum that exists that is uniquely keyed to a particular item or substance. One of the greatest examples would be a crystal. Strike a note at just the right pitch, get the vibration moving, and suddenly, the crystal will sing.”
“And singing crystals are supposed to help us, how, exactly?” Mwalimu asked.
“I was about to explain. The theory continues that if one could make those vibrations happen fast enough and strong enough, it will cause the bonds connecting the crystal to break apart, at which point, the stone will shatter. Keep vibrating, and the power of the sound can literally reduce the crystal to dust, and the dust to little more than so much liquid. If I’m correct in my theory, then it may be possible for me to replicate a similar effect in our spear and arrowheads. That way, we wouldn’t need to worry about getting too close to the enemy, and can employ a technique that would devastate their forces.”
Fjüra smiled. “My people are familiar with this theory of resonance, young Unicorn. However, to be able to execute so fine a tuning is impossible. Many of our number have tried in the past and failed miserably. Had we managed to achieve such a feat, the great wall would have fallen long ago.”
“Impossible for you, yes,” Vital agreed. “From what I’ve heard of your voices, your range is limited, as is my own. However, I’m not suggesting using my voice to try to break this stone. Well, not for the final spell, anyways. I’ve never really dabbled in this particular branch of magic before, so it will likely be a series of trials and errors, but I think I can at least manage to crack, if not potentially cleave the rock today.”
“You are free to try,” Fjüra said simply as she folded her arms.
Vital frowned. “This would be a lot easier, if I had my violin,” he said as he ignited his horn with its usual musical note and enveloped the stone in its glow. He gradually tapped the rock at varying points, his ears twitching and his head cocking occasionally as he pondered over it. Finally, he sighed as he released his magic. “Okay, I think I’ve got the right feel for it. I’m just not sure if this will work without my focus to channel my intent.”
“Do you not have Mustafa’s staff?” Mwalimu questioned.
“Not the focus I was referring to,” Vital said. “This one is … special. It can’t be replicated easily.” He shook his head. “I’ll just have to make do without.” He closed his eyes and conjured a series of ice crystals laden with runes to regulate their temperature. Then he kept them levitated in the air in a circle at varying heights. He took a deep breath and the crystals began to pulse, releasing a series of tiny chimes.
And then he began to sing. A sense of longing throbbed in his voice as he began. Then the tempo picked up as the chimes grew faster and faster, sending light thrumming along the crystals in an ever-accelerating cycle. As if to substitute for the lack of his instrument, the tones of his magic took on a sudden glissando, like the shift of a vibrating string as he swayed his head back and forth with every note.
His song rang with the frustration at his inability to do more, his desire to remain peaceful, but to also do something for the people he loved. Frustration at his old self mingled with a fear of regression, and of what might happen, should he continue down the path he had begun at the warrior’s compound. He wanted to help. He needed to help. And this … this could do it. It had to work. It had to.
“Somebody shine a light. I’m frozen by the fear in me. Somebody make me feel alive and shatter me!”
His friends had already put so much blood on their hands and hooves for his sake and the sake of his tribe. Tears coursed down his cheeks as he broke into the final lines.
”So cut me from the light, dizzy, spinning endlessly. Somebody make me feel alive and shatter me!
Blue and white cracks lined the globe as he poured his energy into his final efforts and belted out the final words twice more. The ice crystals shattered, followed by a loud detonation from the pillar as the stone burst apart, leaving a dust cloud in its wake that obscured the zone. A few moments later, Vital Spark emerged from the cloud coughing as he approached the pair. “It worked,” he croaked hoarsely as he swallowed and rubbed his throat. “Definitely needs refinement, though.”
Fjüra stared at the pedestal where the rock had once rested, then looked back at the Unicorn again as she cocked her head. “Curious. You reinforced the harmony with the your race’s magics, though it would seem at some cost,” she noted. “I hope you do not have to do that every time you intend to use such a magic.”
“Like I said,” Vital coughed. “Needs work.”
“I think after some tea,” Mwalimu suggested. “You can work on refinement, after you’ve had time to rest.”
Vital’s legs shook as he stood in place. “Come to think of it, I am rather tired.” He chuckled. “Should we adjourn to the hut?”
“Not a bad idea,” Fjüra agreed. “I think I have an old remedy that might be of assistance to you.”
“Thank you,” Vital croaked, then swallowed and left it at that as the trio departed, escorted by some rather wide-eyed Zebras.
Hammer Strike frowned as he stood out in an empty space near the forge, thaumic book in hoof, reviewing several theories once more, before puttin them into practice. It was simply creating a rift through time to display the position within a dome from different points in the temporal stream.
He sighed to himself. Sure, he could try and call it simple, but it wasn’t going to be that easy. As long as he was just projecting things visually, he could get away with only a quarter of his energy being used.
“So, is everything ready on your end?” Grif asked as he entered, carrying the assortment of items.
“As ready as I can be,” Hammer Strike replied. “Worst case scenario, it doesn’t work.” he said with a shrug.
Grif set the puzzle box down on a nearby table and placed the onyx slab on top of it, before placing the figures down in order. “When I tried this, it was the waning crescent moon, so I guess we need to work from there,” Grif noted.
Hammer Strike nodded, before stepping near the table. “All right, I’ll work backwards to not draw conflict in energies,” he hummed, closing his eyes as he focused on the area around them, creating a dome of thaumic energy that quickly enveloped them, before it suddenly wasn’t visible to Grif.
It didn’t take much time, before the sun stopped and started rotating backwards around the planet, shifting the perspective of time around them, until Hammer Strike was able to get them to the next appointed moon phase.
“Please keep things active at a decent pace. It’s easy enough for me to hold this, but takes a constant stream of energy to do so,” Hammer Strike warned.
“It shouldn’t take long. We’ll know if there’s a reaction,” Grif assured his friend as he held the slab to the moonlight. When the tool didn’t react, he shook his head. “Next phase.”
Hammer Strike nodded as everything followed suit, moving back to the previous phase.
Immediately, the slab responded with a snap, opening up and throwing it’s light onto the figurines. At this point, the only figures to light up were the crowned Gryphon and the older one. Grif carefully removed the others, and the two began to move. Taking a small rock, the older Gryphon produced a piece of metal and began to work it, while the crowned Gryphon watched, brandishing a sword. The moment the crowned Gryphon turned aside, however, the older Gryphon produced flint and began to spread sparks all over. Ethereal flames sprung up, and the figure froze into inaction in the act of slinking away.
Grif quickly retrieved the box and got to work, rapidly moving tiles with his talons. It took a few minutes, and he made several mistakes, but, finally, he was able to finish the split picture depicting an aged Gryphon being forced to work, only to turn and run under the cover of flames, when he was no longer being observed.
“Let’s try moving back two phases,” Grif said on a hunch. Hammer Strike made no response as time moved back once more.
Once again, the figuringes began to glow, this time focusing on the three Gryphon figures. The older Gryphon was working again as the younger one played with a rock as though it where some kind of toy. Suddenly, the crowned Gryphon broke into the scene and used his sword to lead the older Gryphon away. Grif’s talons were already moving as the scene froze. As he expected, he was presented with the scene of the older Gryphon being forced from his home. So, Gandalfi was taken on the point of a sword, Grif observed as he turned to the last face. He nodded for Hammer Strike to move ahead.
The final, or Grif supposed first scene, was a simple portrayal of the elder Gryphon working, while the younger played. The elder Gryphon handed the younger one a toy, and Grif could have sworn he saw the beak turn in a smile out of the corner of his eye as he slid the last tile into place on the final panel. The top of the box clicked, then popped open as the figures froze. After a few tense seconds, Grif finally reached into the container to remove a tube wrapped in parchment.
“So, this is it?” Grif said to himself. “Looks a little small for a weapon.”
“Anything else, or can I finally stop?” Hammer Strike asked.
“You can stop,” Grif said absently, rolling the item in his hand.
The area around them suddenly shifted in lighting as the dome around them disappeared. “So, did you figure out everything you wanted to figure out?”
“Yes, and it’s led to more questions,” Grif said as he furrowed his brow in thought. “Thanks for your help.”
“No problem. Have fun with your conundrum,” Hammer Strike replied with a smirk. “As per usual, I’ve got to get back to work on equipment.”
“I’ll … talk to you later,” Grif said as he stowed the item gently in his pack, before gathering the rest of the toys and he box. “I need to contemplate this.”
Pensword smiled as he looked at the slogan he had scrawled into the stone, alongside a curiously large nose peeking over what appeared to be the border of a wall, along with two great big eyes. Kilroy was here read loud and clear on the wall of his restroom. He had never expected to be performing graffiti on a bathroom stall, and yet here he was. It was a most curious turn of events. The tally on the wall now read fifteen days. Half a month had come and gone in his imprisonment. The Minotaurs had been courteous enough to modify his cage to allow regular access to the garden now, so at least there was a little solace in that. It was probably their way of dangling a carrot in front of his nose, after all his “good behavior.”
Thanks to the open nature of the passage, birds now flitted around from time to time, before flying back out into the full light of day. One of the peacocks had even gone so far as to build a nest in the corner of the main display room. Since he still couldn’t shower, he made the best of it by diving into the pond in the garden. If the Minotaurs had a problem with it, they would get the message eventually. And besides, if someone did complain, it would allow him the satisfaction of seeing his captors squirm for once.
He finished in the bathroom before heading out to the chamber to do his morning callistentrics and weight training. As usual, his practice drew a crowd, and this time in particular proved quite amusing to his spectators as he attempted to balance himself upside down on his wings and perform pushups with them. He had yet to master the stance properly, but he was drawing closer each day. It was only a matter of time, until he found complete success. In the night, he would set aside time to create and dissipate thaumic crystals, so that he could keep his field active, then go back to sleep.
When he’d finished his exercises for the day, he made his way to the pool, while birds went after his mane to take a few strands for their nests, while others sang their greetings. Gravel crunched under the stallion’s hooves as he walked, until he reached his destination. Birds bathed and trilled in the shallow end. A set of new steps had been installed, when the Minotaurs noticed his bathing habits, allowing him easier access. He didn’t have soap or shampoo, but at least he could get the dirt off his fur and cool down on the hotter days. The pool was deceptively deep. A few steps in, and the floor gave way in a slope, allowing the commander to eventually dive under the water, so the birds couldn’t land on his head anymore.
After spending a few seconds under the rippling surface, he emerged, shaking the water from his mane and wiping it from his eyes as he treaded water, before he paddled slowly back to the steps. He found a comfortable patch of grass, then began his sun bath as he waited for the arid desert heat to dry him out.
He idly passed over his itinerary for the rest of the day as he shifted a wing to give it better exposure. First would be more carving. After seeing he could scrawl images, the spectators simply couldn’t get enough of this new trick their pet had exhibited. Then, later that afternoon, he would practice shadow sparring and various combat techniques Luna had taught him during their dream sessions.
In short, it was going to be the same as yesterday, and it would likely be the same tomorrow, and however much longer it would be, before he was ready to mount his escape attempt. He sighed forlornly. He almost wished had a ghost would appear, just for the sake of having someone to talk to. But, of course, even if there were, it would be a difficult thing to locate one of his own kind out here. Knowing his luck, he’d probably encounter another Minotaur or a Zebra. No, much though he hated it, he had to wait, and wait he would. Now it was just a matter of figuring out how to pass the time better.
“All right, I think I’ve finally got the spell formula down properly,” Vital Spark said as he finished drawing a diagram in the dirt. “Now I just need to plant the test subject and see what happens.” He levitated a single refined spearhead down into the center of the circles he’d drawn. He took a few moments to get the patterns set properly in his head, then lit up his horn. Energy flowed like water through a channel, lighting the configuration up. Then the energies rose up from the markings in the dirt and hovered in place. Next, a blue aura enveloped the spearhead as it rose to be covered by the seal, which wrapped like a great ribbon, before the sigils engraved themselves with a bell-like tone. The metal vibrated gently as it slowly lowered itself to the ground again.
Vital Spark nodded. “So far, so good,” he muttered to himself. “Next, he enveloped the head in his magic and flung it at a wooden target they’d set up to practice the hunga munga. The metal embedded itself neatly into the wood, but no visible effects occurred. “I wondered if it might not follow the same principles as the sonic,” the Unicorn said as he removed the sharp point from the target. Next, he turned to a piece of carefully molded mud and clay and stabbed the head into it. The spearhead vibrated, followed by a gradual stirring beneath the ball’s initial surface, before it began to roil. Liquid spurted out from the edges where the spearhead had been inserted, until, finally, the whole thing collapsed, causing the spear head to clatter to the ground as the outer shell sloughed beneath it like a lanced boil.
“... Okay, wasn’t expecting something that drastic, but if it works, it works,” Vital said with a shrug. “I should probably see what Grif thinks about this. It could prove useful for some of his weapons,” he mused as he picked up the spearhead and trotted towards the forge. After all, he’d need a lot more spear and arrowheads to enchant.
“Aim!” Grif called to the line of archers standing before him. Each raised his or her bow and carefully took aim along the shaft. He gave them time to sight the target. “Loose!” Immediately, arrows filled the area in front of them. None found the center of their targets, but all landed close enough to be lethal on a living one.
“Drop,” the warrior ordered. “Second line, draw and aim!”
The front row of archers dropped to their knees as the archers behind them drew arrows and took aim. For the next few moments, Grif continued this cycle, observing the four lines of archers operate with a shaky but obvious precision. They weren’t warriors yet, but they were getting there. Satisfied with the progress, he gave Bayek a nod to continue and left the range.
“They’re learning quickly,” he told Vital as they walked away.
“You have to out here in the jungles and the savannah.” Vital shrugged. “And they have a strong motivation to learn.” He looked casually at the Gryphon’s bandolier. “So, have you come to a decision about my offer yet?”
“As tempting as it is,” Grif smiled, “I think there’s more moral in the body count I’ve racked up without the extra help.”
“Even when dealing with a Minotaur squadron?”
“You remember who you’re talking to, right?” Grif chuckled.
“I don’t know. You do tend to hit me pretty hard with those put-downs of yours,” Vital teased. “You know how easily a blow can mess with a person’s memory, especially when the ego’s involved.” He winked at his friend as they continued their walk.
“Let me tell you a little secret,” Grif leaned in. “I remove half the momentum from any blow they land on me, a little technique I’ve been working on in thaumaturgy, projecting a momentum-dampening field.”
“In short, you’re combining physics with thaumaturgy to devastating effect?”
“The more you work the muscle, the stronger it’ll get,” Grif reminded him.
“I know. I remember,” Vital chuckled. “This is definitely going to be an interesting turn of events to see you apply in combat.” He sighed. “But moving on to a better topic, do you have any ideas for who you want to recommend to send on that mission with the escarpment yet?”
“I’m still considering the squad. Why? You have suggestions?”
“Not just yet. It’s easier for me to befriend some of the Minotaurs, since I’m not technically a Zebra, but they still prefer to keep to themselves, until others prove themselves in combat. Frankly, you’d probably have better luck, once you have an understanding of their language. They’ve seen how you fight. They know you’re strong.”
“Maybe I should send you with the squad,” Grif chuckled. “Give you an opportunity to show them your strength.”
“If by strength, you mean evasive spell casting. I’m not so sure they’ll deem that proper strength.”
“We’ve been hiding here in the forest for long enough. Once I finish enchanting enough of the spear and arrowheads with my new formula, they’ll be ready to do some proper damage to our enemies. They’ll drop like flies, and they won’t even know why. I don’t like the idea of mass killing, but if nothing else will get them to stop, I don’t see much other choice.”
“Better get back to work then,” Grif said. “We’ll talk later.” And with that, he took wing towards the trees. It was time to hunt.
A great gray Minotaur with long horns and a sweeping set of arms lashed out with his lochabre as a trio of Zebras danced around him. Vaelar Plainswalker narrowed his gaze and snorted indignantly as he tossed his head at the Zebras.
“He says you’re not trying hard enough,” Vital noted. “He can still block your attacks, and he knows how to read your movements. If you want to hit him, you have to be more coordinated and stop giving so much away with your body language. Their language is a literal extension of body language, and he’s calm enough to keep his cool, rather than allow surprise to overwhelm him. Use your heads, calm down, and keep the fear out of your muscles as much as you keep it off your expressions.”
“Easy for you to say,” one of the sparrers grunted, after he took a sweeping blow to the chest from the axe head. Fortunately, the spell Vital had applied to its edge ensured it remained blunted and unable to cut flesh.
“And now you’re dead,” Vital said pointedly. “And you’re right, it is easier for me to say than to do, but all of us have to learn to do it, if we’re going to stand a chance of maintaining our element of surprise.”
“Then why don’t you try it?”
Vital shrugged. “If you want.” He raised a hoof and snorted a challenge as he lowered his head towards the great bull. “Stand aside, all of you,” he said. “This spar could get dangerous.” He levitated one of the polearms and spun it in his hooves as he stared the Minotaur down. Then Vital grinned. “Let’s give them a show, shall we, Vaelar?”
The older Minotaur returned the smile. “Let’s.”
Vital Spark was the first to act. He lunged forward, waiting for the Minotaur to perform his usual swing. At the last moment, Vital Spark jumped, using the momentum of the lochaber’s arc to avoid any possibility of redirection catching him. He then stabbed with his pole-arm, striking the Minotaur’s shoulder, or he would have, if Vaelar hadn’t had the sense to back out of range.
Vaelar surged forward next, with his horns lowered to gore.
Like a skilled matador, Vital Spark danced aside, throwing his spear at the Minotaur’s back and landing a strike, even as the protective enchantment prevented the spear from making proper impact. “And there’s a point for me,” Vital said. “If that spear had made proper contact, it would have caused some serious damage,” he noted idly as he turned away from the bull.
Vaelar snorted and charged up behind Vital Spark, only for the Unicorn to jump out of the way and fire a stream of magic at the ground by the Minotaur’s feet. The great creature’s hooves couldn’t find purchase, and he skittered and scrabbled, until his legs finally came out from under him and he came crashing to the ground.
“And that, my friends, is another rule to keep in mind,” he said casually as he retrieved his spear and closed his eyes, nodding sagely. “Always use the environment to your advantage.” When he opened them again, he found himself suspended in the air. The Minotaur chuckled as he spoke to the Unicorn. “Yeah, yeah,” Vital muttered. “And never let your guard down,” he finished morosely.
The three Zebras couldn’t help but laugh at the situation. Then Vital looked questioningly at Vaelar, and the Minotaur grinned viciously. Vital soon returned it as the big Minotaur lowered him back to the turf.
“Now then, since you three feel so cocky, how about we even the odds, hmm?”
The three warriors weren’t laughing anymore, and by the end of the day, that laughter had been replaced by groans and a single satisfied, “Lesson learned.”
Pensword sighed as he flopped down on the garden’s soft grass again. Twenty one days. Twenty one days had passed, and he was still in captivity, still dealing with the same dull grind. His exercise was finished, his bath taken, his meal eaten. The only relief from the monotony of it all came from his carving. Equestria’s standard had been coming along quite nicely along the wall, with a personal twist of a familiar crystal heart. He sighed again as the three royal siblings flashed through his mind. How were they faring? Was Cosey continuing to grow? Were the citizens of the Empire satisfied? He hoped so.
When enough time had passed, he flapped back to the main room hovered in the air, looking over the scenes that were growing around the sun and moon he had drawn. Depictions of the ponies of the day were worshipping Celestia, while bats, Thestrals, and creatures of the night looked on in adoration as a stick carving of the princess and high chieftess flew in the act of slaying a mighty Ursa Major. He heard the sound of snorts and other noices that he took for derision or displeasure at his crude artwork. That being said, it was his, and he didn’t give a damn what they thought. Annoying them was sort of the point, anyways, so it was just two birds with one stone.
Of course, as he considered the state of the mural, he couldn’t help but think of his own personal state. It had been ages since he’d had a proper discussion with anyone. It seemed so pointless to talk now, but not expressing himself in some verbal form wouldn’t be good for his mental state, and that was something he would need to keep sharp for when he escaped to rejoin the war.
Occasionally, he would try to catch and mimic the words the Minotaurs used, but that proved a mostly fruitless endeavor. The one Minotaur that seemed to actively be trying to teach him useful words had been transferred out, and all the other Minotaurs refused to utter a syllable while the Pony was around. Clearly they’d received new orders not to encourage the Pony to learn the language, a clever strategy, all things considered. It was difficult to befriend someone, if one couldn’t speak their language.
With little else left to offer, he turned to the one thing every Pony in Equestria used, when all else failed. Harmony was a powerful thing, after all, especially when a good heart song got involved. He let the memories of home infuse him, then took a deep breath as he channeled those feelings to a familiar tune playing through his head. “Yesterday, all my troubles seemed so far away....” As he continued to sing, he flew to an unused part of the dome and began to carve the faces of his family, both living and dead. Even as he hummed the last few bars, he’d only managed to achieve the barest outlines of faces. He sighed, the returned his tool to its place, before descending to the floor again. For once, the room was silent. Had they finally left him in peace?
A single glance at the windows answered that question only too well. He snorted angrily. Couldn’t the big oafs leave a stallion to mourn in peace? He sputtered angrily, then stormed toward the bathroom. The stench was terrible, but he found it preferable to the relentless eyes that followed him everywhere he went.
“Faust, I wish they’d just leave me in peace,” he swore. Then he sighed as he settled in for the long wait for dinner.
147 - Words from the Maker, Scars from the Breaker
Extended Holiday Ch 147: Words from the Maker, Scars from the Breaker Act 23
A month had gone by, and Grif found himself still dreading to peel away the parchment on the small cylindrical object he’d found in the puzzle box. The stories about the weapon the toy maker had been crafting were old, almost old enough to be considered myth. Gandalfi had been one of the few Gryphons fortunate enough to survive to grow old, and the knowledge he’d gained over his life meant what Grif held in his talons could be any number of devices. It could be some type of bomb, for all he knew.
Gathering up his nerve, Grif traced the parchment with his talons. He moved the edge along it, until he felt a lip, and then he coaxed it up carefully. Slowly, almost reverently, he removed the wrapping to reveal the gleam of polished metal. Soon enough, he held a cylinder in his claws. One end was domed, the other open. Runes covered the base surface, though, currently, they produced no glow, having seemingly been starved of magic for years. A cleverly concealed catch was almost imperceivable as the Gryphon ran his keen eyes over the device. Yet, no matter how Grif poked at it, it refused to open.
With slight confusion, he turned to the parchment, slowly flattening it out to avoid tearing it. The ink was faded, written in the old Gryphic. His eyes devoured the text.
To whomever finds this.
Greetings, clever one. If you are reading this, then you are either a well-educated Zebra or Pony, or as I fear, a Gryphon. You have either figured out the key to unlocking my puzzle or broke the box. I have little control over the outcome, but I can only hope that it is the first and that you are not the violent brute that is so typical of my culture these days.
My name is or was Rinaldo Gestalt Gandalfi, and I lived in the era of Emperor Grisalt the First. I dedicated my life to making youngsters happy, by creating devices that bring joy and wonder to their hearts. But I am afraid my skill was of such renown that the Emperor sent for me with other plans in mind. He forced me to work on a weapon to give our kind an advantage over the wing blades of the Pegasi, which we had failed to re-create for ourselves. What you now hold in your hands is the result of that work. When I faked my own demise, I destroyed my workshop and the plans used to build this device. There is only this one weapon, and what happens to it falls squarely on your shoulders.
If you are a Gryphon, then I beg you to consider carefully what that future will be. What you now hold is what I have come to call the tail blade, a weapon fashioned to make an advantage out of our prehensile tails. The enchanted runes will allow the weapon to respond to your will. To remove the safety, you must verbally state the word ‘brindle’ in a clear voice. You must repeat this word to return the safety to position.
Be warned. To wear this weapon is to bond with it. Once placed on your tail, it will not easily allow itself to be removed, so do not lightly take it into your use.
I am not long for this world, and I fear I must release the future of this device to you, the reader of this letter. I only hope that you are a worthy soul.
With all my hopes for the future,
Rinaldo Gestalt Gandalfi, the Toymaker.
Grif read the letter twice, just to be sure he understood. He eyed the device carefully. A tailblade? All things considered, such a device would be an incredible boon in combat. But to be permanently bonded with it?
Grif weighed the device in his talons as he considered everything. Yet another price was going to be asked of him, and this one was steep, but….
His thoughts ran back to Pensword and his capture at the Minotaurs’ hands. Rage that was repressed for so long built up again, like an inferno. And with the anger’s return, so, too, came the return of an oft-used statement. The words, his own words, echoed in his mind. ‘I’d walk into hell happily for my friends.’
He brought his tail forward and slid the weapon onto the tip, feeding magic into the runes, which quickly began to give off bright light. And then the pain hit. It flared like white fire down the entire length of his spine. It took every ounce of willpower he possessed not to call out as his nerves stabbed at him again and again. Vision blurred, so he was unable to see the device shift as it came fully to life. With several whirls and clicks, the metal bands tightened, allowing the weapon to adjust itself to its new home. What was once a single cylindrical object had broken apart into segmented plates that clamped down on the flesh beneath. And then, as quickly as it had come, the pain abated.
Grif lay panting for a while, unable to do much else, save think about what he’d just done. When he finally found the strength, he stood, hearing a faint whirring click as his tail swayed behind him. Bringing it forward, he examined the segmented metal now covering a full half a foot of his tail. The once-polished steel now had changed to a fire blackened sheen that melted into his coat color. The runes no longer glowed brightly, but were barely visible above the weapon’s surface. Grif eyed the device for several more seconds, before he finally did it.
“Brindle,” he ordered, and with a pop, a blade flicked forward from the catch he’d been unable to open. It stood a full half a foot in length and bore the same fire-blackened finish. The blade also had a slight curve that gave it a menacing appearance. Grif swung his tail at a nearby length of rope, and the blade severed it easily. Grif gave a predatory grin as he observed the damage. “Brindle,” he ordered again, and the blade retracted just as easily as it had emerged.
With a satisfied smirk, he stepped out of his tent and towards the village proper, his tail whirring and clicking behind him.
It was day forty two, and Pensword had just finished his lunch. He could feel the difference in his muscle tone now as he went about his daily routines. He was finally getting back into proper shape. The constant exercise of hovering to carve had helped build his endurance in flight, and he had become at least somewhat competent in his carving, taking great pleasure in the family portrait he had only recently completed. The crowds continued to mill about, watching, waiting for the Pony’s next move.
He stretched, then sighed. It was getting harder and harder not to fall into stir craziness. Worse yet, aside from taking the time to eat and drink, he realized he’d hardly spoken a word for the last few days. Such things were unhealthy. It would seem that perhaps more singing might be in order.
He slowly walked around the room as he pondered what to sing for the day. He looked at the Minotaurs, and inspiration struck. It didn’t really matter what he sang, if it was in a language they couldn’t understand, especially if that language happened to be English. He bobbed his head, prepping the beat, before breaking into the words and prancing around the room in time. “You can’t take me,” he started.
About a minute into his impromptu performance, he spread his wings and began to fly around the chamber, continuing his song of action and defiance. He flew upside down, performed the backstroke in midair, anything to express himself. After all, this wasn’t just a matter of physical fitness. He had to keep his mind sharp and spirits high. They could cage him, but they wouldn’t cage his spirit; not if he had anything to say about it.
He ended the song with a few grunts and hoos as he slowly glided to the ground. Once again, the crowd of Minotaurs that had watched him so avidly were silent. Confused, the commander cocked his head. He hadn’t heard any music alongside his performance, so it couldn’t have been a heart song. So, why the lack of communication? They’d been amused enough to see him fly and draw. Why did they react to music so differently?
A fierce bellow caused the crowd to jump, and Pensword leaped back as his ears pinned against his skull. A massive brute of a bull in full armor slammed the hidden door open, trailed by one of the guards. His armor was thicker, with more metal pieces. A certain amount of engraving and other metal work had been performed, leaving the Pegasus to frown at the sight. That degree of smithing skill could prove troublesome to the others, assuming they were still on their way to save him.
The burly warrior stomped his hoof aggressively, then lowered a satchel carefully to the table Pensword had used for his meals. The Minotaur proceeded to pantomime the Pony’s singing, holding one hand to his breast, while the other projected outward, and he held his mouth open, like he were holding some great operatic note. Then he shut his mouth and glared at the Pony, shaking his massive head, before pulling the satchel open to reveal crumpled parchment, a series of feathers, and a stone jug with a fixed wax seal stopping the cover. He picked up one of the feathers, then returned to his pantomime of singing again, followed by a swift cut-off, a glare, and snapping the feather in front of Pensword’s face.
The message couldn’t be clearer. Whether it was an order form higher up or simply a distrust of what he may have been doing, the Pegasus had been forbidden to sing. On the plus side, they at least gave him something else to occupy his mind. The bulls turned and left, with the leader snorting his distaste, even as the guard closed the doorway behind them.
Pensword shrugged as he sat at the rough table and broke the wax seal. As he suspected, a fresh well of ink was waiting for him to write. Seeing as he didn’t have much more to do, he figured he might as well write an account of the events leading from his capture to his imprisonment here. He chuckled to himself as he began to write. “I guess it’s a good thing I didn’t sing So Long, and Thanks for all the Fish.”
“All right, gentlemen,” Vital said as he sat with Hammer Strike and Grif once more by their council table. “We’ve been training and preparing for the last month. How close are we to the point where we can start pushing back?”
“I give the archers three weeks. The others need a little longer. But what about provisions? Do we have food and water to sustain a campaign?” Grif asked.
“There are supplies stored up, but with the drop-offs taking place to ship for Equestria, it’s going to be a little tight, until the rest of the land finishes recovering.”
“I might be able to progress things, when it comes to getting more supplies in that regard,” Hammer Strike commented with a hum.
“An army marches on its stomach. Anything we can do to keep that stomach full and happy is going to make things a lot easier. What about the shamans? Have they been able to convince any spirits to aid us in combat?” Grif asked.
“In the defense of the forest and our villages, certainly. But unless the Minotaurs are directly threatening the balance of nature, they can’t interfere more than that. They’re still weak from supporting Gaia for so long,” Vital said.
“So, it looks like our magic abilities are narrowed down to you, for now,” Grif noted.
“I can manage. I’ve got a lot of spellcraft stored up here,” he said, tapping his head. “And I might be able to convince a spirit or two to add a little extra spice to the mix, if it’s needed. Plus, there’s the extra training we both have in common now.”
Starting a week from now, I’m going to take several of the trackers and start scouting out the closest Minotaur encampments to the forest. We can begin building a plan from there.”
“You may want to consider involving one of the Longhorns as well, just to get their perspective on the typical patterns and behaviors. If there’s something the camps are doing that deviates from the norm, they can let you know,” Vital noted.
“I’ve already been examining candidates from them,” Grif nodded. “Have they been useful in the forges?” he asked Hammer Strike.
“We’ve got past the difficult parts, so we’re making more progress,” he replied with a nod.
“If we want to get the best ores, we may need you to find them yourself, Hammer Strike. The land will offer what it can, but it’s not up to being able to give us the volume we require. We may need to train some miners. Temporarily, of course,” Vital said.
“I can easily make more types of metals using thaumaturgy.”
“That’s good to hear.” Vital sighed in relief. “Ivy had a talk with Zecora as well. Apparently, some of the Minotaurs she caught got to meet this mysterious head bull. She gave us an image to work with, if you’re ready to see it.”
“Show me,” Grif said.
The creature Vital projected towered over them. His fur was long and shaggy along his arms and wrists, and along his lower legs to drape over the ground. The hairs on his main coat were a coppery orange with a glaring tan accent over his chest hairs. His horns were thick and high, a polished black that practically glowed as he glowered at them. His muscles strained heavily against his hide, looking practically ready to burst out of his skin. A rough worn hide of a loin cloth draped over his front and back, and a series of burnt markings scarred the fur in intricate patterns.
“Smart enough not to let himself get directly involved in the combat, though, at least not at first,” Vital said.
“He’ll make a mistake sometime. We just need to act on it,” Hammer Strike commented.
“And the more we beat his forces, the more likely he’ll be to make that mistake. They don’t like getting beaten, especially if they think it was done outside the normal means established by culture and precedent,” Vital said.
“I’ll have him out in a week,” Grif said. “This is the guy who has Pensword. Nothing stops, until he’s dead. That's our goal from this point onwards, agreed?”
“Sounds good to me,” Hammer Strike nodded.
Vital frowned. “I guess we don’t have much choice, do we?”
“No, we don’t.” Grif shook his head. “Excuse me, gentlemen. I have work to do.” And with that, he left.
The sun beat hot and humid over the rainforest in the distance, and heatwaves rose in ripples to distort sound and sight as the Minotaur forces stared out from their encampment. The last several raiding and scouting parties to enter the Zebras’ domain had not returned. Their forces continued to grow as reinforcements made the trek from the escarpment, though the cows had to remain behind, in order to seek a means to circumvent the wall of fire that blocked all attempts to pass between the great barrier. Signs of the land’s gradual healing showed in the surrounding lands as withering trees began to take strength and wildgrass started to sprout anew. In due course, Sorchak, the head of the war band, emerged from his inspection of their forces to approach the edge of their encampment.
Then, slowly, from out of the wavering air, a figure began to resolve itself. Its coat was a solid tan, its mane a dark brown. No stripes bedecked this strange creature. Instead, the bright blue cloth he had seen the weak Ponies of Equestria wearing as they manned their ships met Sorchak’s eyes. It swayed with its stride as the shimmering air gave way to the solid shape of a stalwart Earth Pony with piercing blue eyes and a flat stare. Sorchak narrowed his gaze suspiciously as he pulled out his great stone warhammer and sounded the call to rouse his troops. He didn’t know what kind of threat, if any, this Pony would pose, but he and the others would be ready for it.
Hammer Strike hummed aloud as he drew closer to the Minotaurs. “Different from what I was expecting,” he commented, before giving a faint shrug. “I am here to discuss terms.”
Sorchak raised his brow in some surprise. “You speak our language. What are these terms you speak of?”
“The terms of your surrender,” Hammer Strike replied simply.
Sorchak laughed. “Surrender? To a puny Pony? Oh, you are funny, little Pony.” The whole of the encampment burst into a collective fit of laughter.
“I’d laugh, but I lost my sense of humor years ago,” Hammer Strike replied as a small grin grew on his face. “No, no. I’m quite serious. I am here to discuss your surrender, or else.”
“And what, exactly, are we surrendering for?” Sorchak snarked as he struggled to contain his laughter.
“For your opportunity to live an extra day.”
“And you’re going to kill us?”
“That would be correct,” he replied simply. “Either way, this got me out of the forge, so take all the time you need to form your response.”
“This isn’t your land. Why are you here? Who sent you?”
“Two reasons: One, the Zebras were in need of assistance, and two–.” Hammer Strike’s hooves burst into flames as a ring of fire grew around the camp. “You took one of my friends, and I’m not particularly happy about that.”
Upon seeing the sudden explosion of blue fire around the encampment and the glint of murderous intent, Sorchak leapt into action, slamming down his hammer with all the force he could muster. The Pony didn’t even move aside. It would be a simple matter to end him and whatever magic he’d brought from that weak continent here and now.
The hammer stopped abruptly against Hammer Strike, and before Sorchak could do anything else, the Earth Pony lunged forward, bringing his hoof back as he struck at the minotaur’s knee, shattering it in one efficient strike.
Sorchak bellowed in pain as he leaned on his hammer for support. The rest of the camp took that as their cue, and proceeded to attack en masse. However as they got close, a blast of heat erupted outwards from the Pony. Sorchak watched as his warriors bellowed in pain and their skin boiled and blistered from the heat. Geysers of steaming blood erupted as veins ruptured from the sudden pressure of intense boiling. Only he and Hammer Strike were immune to the destruction around them.
With a coolness that frightened the brave Minotaur to his bones, the Earth Pony approached. He casually reared onto his back hooves and grabbed the Minotaur’s horns, pulling his head down farther.
“If you’re not going to surrender, then deliver a message. That was your only warning. As of now, every Minotaur we encounter between here and your home, we kill. Your cities will burn around the bodies that will be left in our wake. Go back to your king and tell him that death is coming.” Hammer Strike released his grip momentarily, and he could feel the Minotaur shudder with relief, only for the Earth Pony to give one savage pull. A sharp double crack erupted over the sound of the dying Minotaurs’ screams. Two broken horns hit the ground as Hammer Strike turned away and the shadows rose to slowly devour him. “We’ll be seeing you.”
Sorchak stared at the Pony, then gaped down at the two pieces of bone and keratin that now lay at his feet. The open bone left on his head throbbed, like a pair of wedges hammering into his brain, but he didn’t care. Liquid dribbled down the side of his leg. He didn’t care. The scent of defecation carried heavily on the air. Sorchak didn’t care. All he knew, all he felt, all he was, was no more. Fear: primal, terrible, and absolute, had made its claim. And he would not deny it as he gibbered insanely, gaping at the frying corpses that had once been his herd. The only thing keeping him in the realm of sanity were those wedges and the throbbing of his swollen knee, where the Pony had shattered his kneecap.
Slowly, ever so slowly, the proud warrior turned, jabbed his hammer into the ground, and began to limp away, using the shaft as a third leg. He would deliver his message. Anything to escape that … that … thing.
“Not that I’m criticising,” Vital Spark said as he looked off at the lone speck in the distance, “but wasn’t the point of this supposed to be to give our troops the chance to join you in the fight and build their confidence more?”
“I needed to make a point, and I believe I made that point,” Hammer Strike replied.
“A master of politics, as ever,” Grif said, smiling.
“And the overlord of overkill,” Vital added.
“Hey, if you want progress, give them something to move on,” Hammer Strike shrugged.
Disiungitur was a mighty steer, even by Minotaur standards, standing a full two heads taller than his fellows and with twice the muscle mass. His horns were harder than stone, and his strength was enough to break the backs of any opponent. That was if they were lucky. His other means of conquest were more direct, and far more deadly. He snorted angrily as he glared at the escarpment. From the vast heights of the holy mountain, he could see the beacon that was the Zebras’ accursed power bobbing mirthfully, like a candle’s flame. He didn’t like being laughed at.
The females who tended the holy mountain had been conversing with the spirits of the mountain for weeks, seeking a means to open the passage and thwart the barrier that blocked entry into the Zebras’ territory. Until now, their efforts had proven fruitless. If killing them weren’t an offense to the gods, he would have given them a more proper form of motivation to find a solution.
“Tell me you’ve made progress,” he growled.
“We can only do so much, revered herd leader,” the lead cow reported. The great gourd hanging from her staff sighed with the sound of rain. “Whoever is responsible for this barrier holds sway over the spirits of the heavens. The fire that rages over the passage is not of this world, but of the sun and stars. We cannot commune with such spirits, let alone overwhelm them.”
Disiungitur smashed his hand against the cave wall, sending several cracks out from the point of impact. “That’s not good enough,” he said in a deadly quiet voice.
“It is all we can do. We were fortunate enough to be able to open the way the first time, and the land has grown stronger since, with the return of the waters. The way will not yield so easily to us again.”
Disiungitur bellowed his frustration. “You’re telling me that I have an army waiting to strike our enemies, the foes that tried to destroy us with thirst and hunger, and we can’t even send them to fight?”
“The land is unsettled. The rocks murmur again and again, and they speak the same things.”
“And that is?”
“Go back. Return. Leave.” She shook her head as she leaned on her staff for support. “Whatever the reason, we are being told to stop this fight, or at the very least to retreat.”
Disiungitur snorted and shook his head as he narrowed his eyes and glared at the cow. “We do not retreat.”
“I only say what the land speaks to us,” the cow said in a level tone as she looked up at the tower of rage. “We cannot change its thoughts, nor its actions, without consequences.”
“Damn the consequences,” he roared.
“Herd leader,” a deep grunt spoke from behind.
Disiungitur rounded on the stranger with a savage snarl. “What?”
The bull that stood before the head bull was bedecked in a full set of heavy metal armor draped with mail to protect his loins. Only the protectors were allowed to wear such vestments in exception to their traditions, that the females would be best guarded. “Someone has arrived from the wall. They crossed over from the other side.”
That immediately grabbed Disiungitur’s attention. “Take me to him, at once,” he commanded.
“Of course, revered leader.” The protector bowed his head in acquiescence, then turned to lead the way.
Pensword sat at his breakfast nook. Ten days. It had been ten days since the forceful edict from his captors. Ten days that he hadn’t had a choice whether to sing or not. For an Equestrian, that could be deemed as a form of torture. Fortunately for Pensword, he had a strong mind and a healthy level of self-control. That being said, some itches didn’t go away so easily, and this one had been eating at him for days now.
He sighed as the familiar trilling of the birds in the garden flowed into his ears again. The bulls hadn’t once had a bad reaction to the creatures. Why was he so different? Had he done something to offend them? He pondered that point as he chewed his breakfast. The dates were pleasant enough, a sort of mellow sweetness, not unlike fig newtons. The other fruit was incredibly tart, so he tried to finish them first and clear the bitter aftertaste with the dates.
Once he’d finished his meal, he flicked his tail and flared his wings to bristle his feathers. He might as well show off his discontent, if they weren’t going to give him the freedom he sought. He walked outside to the garden and perked his ears as a distant rumble carried on the wind. A storm was rolling in, wild and untamed. His wings twitched again, yearning to fly, to be in those clouds, to guide the system where it needed to go. But the net wouldn’t allow him to leave, and the Minotaurs wouldn’t be very pleased with the attempt, either. His nail had allowed him the chance to fray through the net’s ropes once before, but his hard work was completely undone by the next morning. The Minotaurs had clearly dealt with escape attempts before from their pets. He sputtered in frustration, then dove into the pond to wash himself again.
In due course, the storm clouds advanced, and he looked up with an eager sort of giddiness as the thunder loomed overhead. The steady rumble beat almost like a drum, and the Pegasus couldn’t help but tap his hooves to that rhythmic crack as he pulled himself out from the water. He looked around in the darkening skies and grinned as his wings twitched in anticipation. Storm riding and manipulation always pulled at a Pegasus, if the weather wasn’t properly controlled. It’s why they always worked to fly so fast and hard off shift. It gave them the exertion they needed to burn off the nervous energy. That combined with the urges he’d been fighting left him practically ready to burst. He snorted, then growled in frustration. He had to do something.
And that’s when he saw it. A heavily shadowed alcove sat just outside the view of potential spectators. The coming storm left few, if any, to watch, anyways. And if the thunder was loud enough, then maybe, just maybe…. He snuck into the alcove as the thunder crackled, then exploded. Yes, that would do nicely. It was worth the risk.
“Well you think you can take me on, you must be crazy….,” he began to sing as the rain fell and the thunder rumbled overhead. His song of defiance gave vent to his frustrations at last, and a shudder of pleasure rocked his frame. He needed this.
Pensword laughed as the water drenched his fur and the winds drove the rain in his face. He spread his wings wide and imagined he was riding the storm. Music flowed freely, intermixed with whoops and hollers of exultation at simply being. For the first time in a long time, the Pegasus tasted freedom, and it was beyond description.
At last, the storm began to abate, and with it, so did Pensword. The rain slackened, and ultimately stopped, leaving the muted light of the sun to pass through the scudding clouds. Eventually, the sun broke through, spreading its golden rays over the garden and causing the flowers and grass to sparkle like jewels. Everything seemed new, cleansed and polished to utter perfection. Eventually, the birds emerged from their hiding places, singing, chirping, and otherwise communicating as the norm reasserted itself.
After a light snack of freshly washed grass that tasted surprisingly savory, he made his way back to the stairs with an almost foalish prance in his step. The world felt right again, and new ideas for his art sprung up from the vaults of his mind, finally released by his musical outlet. He continued to grin, until his nose smashed against hard stone.
Pensword hissed in pain as he reached a hoof up to rub the point of impact gingerly. “What the…?” He peered at the wall, surprised to find the entrance completely sealed off. There was no sign of any sort of doorway or even a remnant of where one had been. No cracks, no seams. He’d been cut off from his room. A sinking feeling struck in his gut as his reflexes and senses went onto high alert. This was new. If the Minotaurs were deviating, then that meant he needed to be ready for anything.
He quickly took wing. If they were going to come for him, they would have to capture him first. His keen eyes were quick to search over the garden. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, at first, but due diligence soon revealed the subtle changes that had taken place. The familiar burble of his bathing pool no longer danced in his ears. He flew over to investigate. A barren patch of damp earth was all that remained, filled to be perfectly level with the remainder of the garden. A quick check soon confirmed his other suspicion. The alcove he had taken shelter in had been sealed, just like the door to his room. The removal of the comforts his captors had provided him could only mean one thing. They had heard him singing, and they hadn’t approved.
“All right, then,” Pensword said to himself. “If you’re going to come for me, you’ll have to be ready for a fight.”
He should have anticipated it, but after living with the thing for so long, Pensword had forgotten to take the potential of the device into account. Too late. Too late. A great weight slammed down on him from above, pressing against his back and pinning him to a tree limb.
“Damn it,” he swore.
The net. How could he have forgotten about the net? The ropes had been inserted into a series of rocks by a means Pensword couldn’t understand, but he certainly understood what that weight meant for him, and what would doubtless follow, if he didn’t get out of his predicament soon. He let out a feral snarl as his pupils narrowed to slits, and he tapped the primal energies within to squirm, bite, and otherwise struggle against his prison. He continued to fight, even as the shadow fell over his body, even as the downward arc began. He knew the pain that awaited him. But he would fight, until the last. And so, he did, until the sudden impact, the twisting of his neck, a strange falling sensation, and then the blackness.
Vital Spark knocked politely on the tent pole to Fjüra’s temporary dwelling. As it had before, the entrance was guarded by a detachment of Zebra troops and surrounded by a series of crystals that Grif and Hammer Strike had arranged specifically for her protection as well as her imprisonment.
“Come in,” the Minotaur said.
“Lady Fjüra, I hope you’ll pardon the intrusion, but I had a few questions I wanted to ask you about the upcoming campaign,” Vital said as he bowed his head respectfully to the cow.
“I’m not sure how much I can help, but ask away,” she said.
“Your tribe is currently involved in the affairs of this war as well, if my understanding of your chieftain’s son’s actions are correct. Is there any means we can communicate what really happened to them that the other Minotaurs won’t be able to interpret?”
“The only way to do that would be to send a messenger directly to them,” she sighed.
“And I assume that wouldn’t work in this particular scenario,” Vital frowned. “That complicates things. I don’t want anyone in the Longhorn tribe getting hurt, but I can’t guarantee Hammer Strike and Grif will share the same sentiments. If they get in our way, they’ll kill them to get to Pensword. Is there a possibility of communicating through the earth itself, something only your fellow cows can hear?”
“Not from here.” She shook her head. “Maybe when we’re closer.”
“Would it help if we developed a means to amplify it?”
“That's possible, yes.”
“I’ll see about what we can come up with between the three of us. What’s your current maximum range?”
“What measurements do you use?”
“We have a variety of systems. It’s best if you simply explain the basis of yours. We can work out the calculations from there.”
“I can extend my power for seven leagues or ten thousand hooflengths.”
“We can work with that,” Vital said. “Also, I wanted to ask you for your personal opinion, since you know the bulls in your delegation better than we do. We have a special mission coming up that will require a shaman from the Zebras and from your own party. Do you have anyone that you would recommend that could bear working with a Zebra?”
“I can think of a few names,” she said. “But most of them will do so anyway, because a deal was made.”
“And act in harmony, with a genuine potential to develop fondness and friendship?”
“Fight with the Zebras.”
“And that will be enough for them all?”
“An agreement has been made. If that isn’t enough for them, then they must take it up with me.”
“I meant to develop closer relationships, not just to respect us as we work together. The mission we have in mind may require such a relationship to exist between the two we send, in order to succeed.”
“Those things take time, Vital Spark.”
“I’m aware. In that case, allow me to amend my request. Please, keep an eye out for any of your bulls who develop such a relationship during the course of this campaign. If, and hopefully when that relationship or those relationships emerge, we would like to know, to better sort through potential candidates. Is this more reasonable?”
“Very well.” She nodded. “I will do this.”
“Thank you. The reasons for the request and the urgency of the mission will become apparent in due time,” the Unicorn promised. “In the meanwhile, I also wanted to visit you as a matter of … I suppose professional curiosity.” He sat himself down to join the cow in her meditation. “If it isn’t overstepping any bounds, I was curious if we might be able to compare our tribes’ methods of communion and manipulation in regards to the earth and the spirits.”
Fjüra smiled. “Well, to begin….”
“So, are they ready?” Grif asked Vital as he shined the plates of his armor with a rag.
“About as ready as they’ll be able to be, under the circumstances. The Minotaurs declined my offer to enhance their weapons. Understandable, given their culture. They should be strong enough to hold their own against their brothers, anyways. This will be the first time I actually see Minotaurs and Zebras working together in a full mobilized armed force.” Vital frowned. “How did they do in the smaller parties? Were there any problems?”
“They worked well enough. A bit clunky, but we don’t have time to work out the kinks in this machine we’ve created. Tomorrow, we start our first field battle. How are the food stores?”
“Adequate. The wild trees have begun bearing fruit again, and the baobabs have started to come back from their withering. It won’t be long before we’ll be able to use them to harvest any water supplies we need on our journey, if we don’t have another ready source nearby.”
“Weapons have been distributed?”
“And properly enchanted. Those Minotaurs are going to be in for quite the surprise.”
“Are they ready for travel?”
“Tents and supplies have been prepared. We can march whenever you wish, and supply lines have been arranged to follow behind us.”
“Tomorrow, we start pushing them back to the wall. Once we have the wall, we’ll work on getting past it.” Grif ran his talons over a plate on his armor, looking for dents. “If they keep a foothold on this side, then we’ll be in more trouble than we need.”
“If there are any cows, you realize we may need to give them the chance to surrender. Many of them are of a similar mind to Fjüra. Plus, they’d make excellent hostages, in the event our campaign comes down to an exchange.”
“It won’t,” Grif said, as if stating a fact so fundamental that the universe itself revolved around it. “But I’ll consider it.”
“And the strategy for this run is going to be a no survivors scenario, I assume.” Vital frowned. “And I just realized something. The cows can communicate with each other, if they’re close enough. If we do take them hostage, and they don’t choose to join our cause, they’ll be able to warn of our attacks.”
“Now your starting to think strategically,” Grif nodded, “which is why we’ll be keeping them in elevated cages made of refined steel.”
“You do realize that steel is still technically of the earth, right? Also, we’ll have to silence them, without damaging them. A bellow is just as good as any other means to communicate for them.”
“Steel is refined and unnatural in its existence,” Grif noted. “And Hammer Strike will have some ideas in that regard.”
“I assumed he might. You might want to counsel with Fjüra, just to be certain that levitating them off the ground will be enough to do the trick.
“I will.” Grif nodded. “For now, you need to check your gear over, then get some sleep.”
“And what about you? You going to test out that new toy of yours?” Vital asked, motioning towards the tail blade with his horn.
“Tomorrow. For now, I’m going to make sure everything is clean and ready, pray, and then prepare for tomorrow.”
“Those other two sound suspiciously like a part of the third,” Vital noted.
“You realize I clean and oil my gear before I go to bed every night, right?” Grif asked.
“Still counts as prep,” Vital smirked.
“Just get your butt to bed,” Grif chuckled.
“After I finish my last rounds,” Vital promised. “I want to make sure everyone’s set to their shifts and getting their rest, including you, big shot.” He smiled as he nudged the Gryphon gently with a hoof.
“I’ll sleep soon. I’m just finishing up.”
“You’d better. I don’t want to have to pour ice down your back to keep you awake tomorrow.”
Pensword didn’t know what day it was. He didn’t know what time it was. All he did know was the terrible throbbing shooting waves of pain across his side, neck, and jaw. He turned his neck ever so slowly to the side, doing his best not to exacerbate the jolts that struck there. A low gasp of horror escaped him as he looked on the sight of thick bandages and bare skin.
His wings. His beautiful wings. He hissed in pain as the muscles twitched on reflex. The bound wing hardly moved at all. Not only had they plucked him of his plumage, they had broken the bone to ensure he couldn’t try to fly, until he healed. His free wing looked more like a giant chicken’s, in its current condition.
For the briefest of moments, rage overthrew pain as Pensword grit his teeth in outrage. That only grew worse, when he felt the distinct pressure preventing his jaw from shifting properly. He crossed his eyes to behold the source of his discomfort.
A muzzle. They had dared to muzzle him, like some rabid animal! A low growl rumbled from the equine’s chest as he tossed his head out of habit, only to wince. The pain returned with a vengeance, along with a new throbbing in his head. He would have to take it easy the next few days. That much was clear. Once he’d recuperated enough, however, he would plot. Oh yes, he would most definitely plot. It was time to take off the kid gloves. Dangerous or not, if these slavers came after him again, thaumaturgy would likely be his only possible weapon. The question was how to utilize it, without killing himself in the process?
He performed a gradual examination of his surroundings as he pondered the strategy. The room appeared to be the same as before. The table was there, as were the walls and ceiling, but all signs of his artwork had been completely done away with, either chipped or smoothed over by the creatures’ strange control over stone. On the plus side, the papers he had been given were still sitting on the table, as were his previous writings. He saw no signs of the ink or quills, though.
Pensword winced as he felt his bladder calling. That would mean having to move. He really didn’t want to move right now. He took a deep breath, grit his teeth once more, and rose shakily to his legs. The throbbing pounded at his body, like a titanic wave, striking, ebbing, then slamming again, after it gathered momentum.
He staggered into the bathroom, the familiar hole awaiting his churning stomach as his body rebelled against his actions. Up above him, his tallies sat, staring mockingly back at him from their place higher up. He took the time to count them, after he settled himself properly.
Seventy lines. Seventy days. Two months by the Equestrian calendar. He had been a PoW for two months, and already managed to goad his guards into brutality. “Way to go, Pensword,” he muttered through the muzzle. His eyes fell on a loose chunk of rock in the corner of the room. At the very least, he would be able to resume his tally again, albeit on the floor, rather than up in the air.
He sighed as he finished his business and struggled back to the main room, before collapsing again onto the floor. Time passed, but as the old saying goes, an idle mind is the devil’s workshop, and Pensword had plenty of new demons to replace the old, now that he was no longer a major attraction, or so he assumed.
“Am I going to die?” he asked himself. “Are they going to execute me?” It was a feasible scenario, all things considered. If he became too much of a burden, there would be little reason to keep up his care. He certainly hadn’t given them any lately.
Despite his best efforts, his imagination, anger, fear, and bruised pride would not be silent. The demons continued to whisper their dreaded what-ifs, and Pensword lost himself to the spiral of hopelessness, powerless to resist, until the darkness finally claimed him again, and his doubts were dragged into the silence.
It was a simple enough day. The longrass and forest trees were covered in morning dew, waiting to evaporate in the rapidly rising heat. The bulls had lowed their morning calls toward their homeland, where the great ones slept, and now had begun their battle preparations, donning crude armor and testing their strength against one another in a contest as old as their race: locking horns and butting heads. The commander of their camp looked on in approval as he pulled a cuirass over his form to shine brightly in the sun as he pulled a jagged wrought iron mace from its place on a reinforced wooden stand. When the troops had finished establishing the chain of command, he would call for them to line up, and then they would prepare for the assault on the forest. The lack of a cow in their camp to ensure proper communication left their herd divided, but so long as this smaller herd stood together, they would, doubtless, succeed in their objective, and the true children of the land would inherit their possessions. So it had been promised by Disiungitur, and so they would act as their head bull commanded.
It took the commander a moment to realize how strangely silent the contest grounds had become. Had the selection already completed itself so soon? He stepped out from the shelter of his tent and into the sunlight. The bulls stood there, dumbfounded, with heads cocked. What were they–?
And then he heard it. The sound was low and quiet, but steady, pulsing, and drawing closer. With the end of each repetitive round, the drumming grew louder, before changing to a new rhythm. A deep constant boom sounded beneath to carry the rest as a blocky sound mixed with the almost tinny reverberations of its fellows. It spoke of excitement, of a building tension, of a call to action, to order–.
“To arms,” the commander gasped, finishing his thought as his eyes widened. “To arms!” he bellowed. “Prepare for attack!”
That was as far as he would get. From the trees, the army seemed to appear out of thin air. Lines of Zebras marched out in a quick unified step. They wore traditional Zebra armor, but upgraded with metal plates, instead of wood. They carried metal shields, and their weapons had steel blades and points. Dotted amongst the Zebras were some of their own kin, Longhorns geared in minimal steel plating. The first four rows of Zebras all carried fine metal-tipped bows with a quiver strapped across each of their backs. In the back, wagons were being pulled, all loaded with two Zebras sitting across from one another, playing the rows of drums that laid between them to set the pace of the march.
On the right side, walking in front of the army, a tall, heavily scarred Earth Pony stood without a shred of armor to his name, just a blue and gold long coat that had no place on the battlefield. A massive warhammer forged in the Equestrian style lay on the stallion’s back, complete with a savage-looking curved spike at the back.
A white horned Pony stood to the left, wearing a set of icy-blue robes accented by polished metal attachments. A peytral wrapped around his shoulders and chest, accentuated by the ebony necklace embedded with bright blue sapphires. A series of bright metal bands rose up his neck, forming the criniere that would serve to guard against any blows from arrows or projectiles. His golden mane flowed down his back and glinted silver in the morning light, as if it were melding with the armor. A staff stood firmly clasped in one hoof, while a burnished metal shield lay atop his back. Two items protruded from either side of the Pony’s flanks, but the distance was too great to make them out properly. Lastly, a series of tribal markings had been drawn across his face in bright yellow war paint as he looked gravely down at them.
The air split with the screech of an eagle as a blur flew out of the treeline across the growing columns of soldiers and dropped between the two Equestrians. It was a male Gryphon, large in comparison to the two Ponies, but small for the average of Gryphon warriors the commander had seen. He was clad in leather across his back and his legs, with a leather jerkin on his chest beneath several plates of polished steel. He wore a pair of slim pauldrons with no distinctive etchings or designs. A mercenary, then, what the Gryphons called clanless. His black fur and feather pelt was covered with scars, where the Minotaur could see it, and even his beak had a crack on the right side. He seemed to be carrying two long swords and a third stranger sword at his side. The commander had never seen the like.
As the minotaur watched, the Gryphon reached behind himself and unclasped something all too familiar, the Gryphon race’s famous compound bow. This one was made of dark wood, from what he could tell. Even with the bow’s prodigious range, the Minotaur had little care as the Gryphon nocked an arrow and drew back. After all, a Gryphon being able to hit a target at more than a mile away was clearly ridi–.
Grif smirked to himself as the Minotaur fell with an arrow freshly placed between his eyes. “Oh, did I just accidentally a war? My bad,” he chuckled. “Archers, nock and take aim!” he shouted, throwing up a sign with his talons. Even before Vital began translating, the commanders recognized the hand sign and shouted his orders. Grif watched the Minotaurs running to get prepared for battle as their chain of command attempted to sort itself out. Grif dropped his talons, and the Zebras behind him released their volley. The sky above the Minotaur camp darkened as the deadly shafts filled the sky. The war had truly begun.
Vital Spark lunged silently in the dark as he worked with his staff to get a better feel for its balance. Meanwhile, his hunga munga and rungu both hovered and struck in varying patterns, waving and darting. The Unicorn’s gaze was focused, but his brow twitched occasionally from the depth of his concentration as he worked to incorporate the three weapons into a unified style. After a few more attempts, he let out an explosive breath, lowering the two weapons gently to the ground, then sitting down on his haunches to look up at the stars. They had managed to clear out enough camps to not have to worry so much about a counterattack, and the Longhorns had been willing to work with the shamans to mold the earth into proper barriers to offer another layer of protection in the event of an assault.
“So, are you going to sit there in the shadows all night, Grif, or are you going to join me?” Vital asked.
“When did you notice I was here?” Grif asked as he walked closer.
“A while ago. You smell like the wind,” Vital said with a shrug, “and not the ones you usually get here in the savannah. That, and your element is the opposite to earth. It’s only natural that I’d feel your presence, when it interacts with the ground near me.”
“Fair enough, I suppose. How are our stores with everything we’ve taken from the others?”
“Decent. We found some herbs not known in our region. The horticulturalists are examining them now to see what properties they might have.”
“One more camp between us and the wall. After that, the fun begins,” Grif chuckled. “You rationed that Minotaur ale we found, right?”
“Grif, you do remember how much I hate drinking, right?”
“Doesn’t mean they do,” Grif said, gesturing in the direction of the camp.
“I let Fjüra decide how best to deal with it. She knows how to keep the bulls from turning into angry drunks.”
“And the Zebras’ share?”
“Admittedly, I actually didn’t think of that. None of the Zebras I’ve worked with have ever drank any alcohol, at least not that I’ve seen.”
“Doesn’t mean they don’t drink. It just means that you never saw it,” Grif chuckled. “It’s good for soldiers; helps them drink off the memory of what they had to do.”
“Then why don’t you usually drink?”
“I dislike the taste of alcohol,” Grif shrugged. “But hey, the good book says a glass of wine helps the stomach,” Grif winked. “Just keep an eye on them and make sure they don’t visit the taps too much. It’ll all work out.”
“You know, if I hadn’t grown so much in my time here, I’d probably rise to that bait and start a whole debate with you over that topic.” Vital chuckled as a couple of tears pattered onto the dirt. “You know, after all this time, I still miss that book. Or maybe it’s just the memories associated with it that are so precious to me.” He sighed. “Regardless, it’s been quite the adventure.” He smiled then. “So, since you’re here, anyways, I’m curious. How did you manage to channel the spiritual energy into those blade attacks? I figured it might benefit us both to exchange notes on applications.”
“When we were back on earth, I picked up a few books on every subject I could think of that might come in handy. I mean, who knows, it might have practical application here, right? I wanted to find something that wasn’t magic or thaumaturgy to rely on, just in case I needed to. I stumbled along at it for a while, before Zecora found me, and she started helping me learn to draw it out and use it. I still have trouble doing it without repressing my magic field, but I’m getting there.”
I guess I got lucky there. With my amnesia, I wasn’t nearly so reliant on my magic, so I was able to learn how to reach it faster. It’s not so much a matter of repressing your field as it is being able to connect to nature as an extension of your spirit. For example, my spirit was originally more attuned to air and water, just as my magic was. You probably should have focused on extending your spirit into that part of your nature first. Then you’d be able to work on spreading to the other aspects of nature that apply to your spirit.”
“I started on finding my core,” Grif shrugged.
“Good. Now, instead of fighting with the aspects of your magic, work with them. They can be a natural tuning rod, when it comes to interacting with the spirits of the elements, kind of like what happens when you talk to the Winds.”
“But it’s physical energy. Isn’t that an entirely different entity?”
“Did you know that in certain theologies on Earth, the soul is actually the combination of the spirit and body together? If you want the greater mastery or whole of the spiritual arts, you need to learn to use the two in harmony, the physical holding hands with the spiritual to create the whole. Do that, and I think you may find it far easier to communicate with your gods and their children.” He raised a glowing blue hoof as the long grass stretched up from the ground to follow it. “Case in point. Rather than force the growth with magic, I asked them to grow to help me prove my point, from spirit to spirit.”
“That's okay, if your walking the path of a monk,” Grif chuckled as he slipped on his ring and concentrated. White flames sparked in his hand. “But I need the imbalance to make my energy destructive.” He tossed the fire a few feet away. It landed on the ground and scorched it, before the flames vanished.
“Oh, spiritual combustion. I never did get to try that. Zecora wanted me to focus more on the constructive aspects, rather than the destructive. Granted, that has come in handy here, and I’ve been able to unlock limits in my body as a result.” He suddenly was standing on Grif’s other side. There was no flash or sign of magic. “Like increased speed and strength. In a way, it’s very much like chi.”
“Yes. Well, in order to focus it destructively, you need to force it through magic, rather then weave it in with it. That’s not easy, and it takes time to get right.”
“Isn’t that more exhausting, though? You’re basically using the innate spark of your spirit to enact a change all on your own.”
“You can’t harmonize an imbalance. And according to Zecora, harmonized ki won’t be useful as a weapon.”
“So, what do you do to make up for the difference?”
“Anger,” Grif shrugged. “It’s all tied to strong emotions, and I have a lot of anger to use.”
“Ah. In that case, that explains why she never taught it to me. I didn’t exactly have much to be that angry about, until the war started.”
“You also aren't much of a warrior,” Grif noted. “No offense.”
“Some taken,” Vital shrugged. “But compared to the rest of you guys, yeah, that’s true. The extension of my training has namely been the sessions with the Rohirrim and what I received here in the traditional weapons of the tribes.”
“There’s no shame in it. The path of the warrior was chosen for us. You get to choose your own. Never be ashamed of that.”
“You do realize I’ll at least have to become a competent battle mage, or else my future wife and my teacher both will tan my hide, right? More so the second than the first.” Vital chuckled ruefully. “I guess that’s the price you pay, when you’ve got powerful friends and even more powerful marefriends.”
“Yes, but that doesn’t mean people always expect you to fight. It just means you can,” Grif chuckled. “Be honest. If you didn’t have a stake in this war, would you be happy about this?”
“I’m still not happy about it, Grif. War is ugly. We both know that. It’s when I stop feeling bad about a war that I’ll know I’m in trouble.”
“Yes, but I’m asking if you wouldn’t have asked about leaving, if we didn’t have a reason, like, say we got dropped here randomly?”
“Honestly, I don’t know.” Vital sighed. “On the one hand, I would want to avoid the conflict, if possible, especially since there would be the potential of leaving a footprint where we shouldn’t. On the other, though, watching people go off to die like that over something like this just wouldn't sit right with me either.”
“Maybe you’re getting there, after all,” Grif chuckled. “You’re starting to understand, at least.”
“The time travelling part or the need to act?” Vital asked with a wry smile.
“The need to act. Contrary to how it might look, Hammer Strike and I don’t do this because we enjoy it. We do it, because someone has to, and we have the power to do it and save lives.”
“In other words, you’re like The Guardian. The lives you save are important, but the number that really matters to you is the ones you couldn’t help in time.”
Grif nodded. “Remember, no matter how many battles you face, if someone asks you how many we lost, there is only one acceptable answer.”
“Too many,” Vital agreed.
“Anyway, you should return to your training, and get to bed soon.”
“Care to join me for a spar? I’ve been meaning to look for a challenge, and Bayek is busy with some of the other recruits.” A mischievous smirk pulled at his lips. “Besides, I’ve missed getting knocked around by you.”
Grif gave a chuckle as he unsheathed a stiletto. “All right, let’s see if they managed to teach you something.”
Pensword woke with a start. His dreams had become plagued by nightmares. On the plus side, the Minotaurs appeared to have shown at least a certain amount of courtesy. they had replaced all the furniture with cushions laid over the stones to ease his body against and help hasten the recovery. That had done a great deal to help silence those annoying doubts and fears, too. A blank stone slab and smaller stone chair had replaced the table, and several pillows had been stacked on the chair to help his ascent. The only thing that wasn’t stone now, aside from the cushions, was his bed.
The days were growing hotter, making the lack of circulation in his bedroom a far greater disadvantage. To compensate, a greater number of windows had been added to the higher reaches of the main viewing room, making it more preferable for daily activities as well as sleeping. Whether this was a deliberate ploy or a simple courtesy, Pensword wasn’t certain.
His ears swiveled casually at the raucous laughter outside. It had taken several days, before they were willing to let him keep the muzzle off, and his mealtimes had been carefully monitored to ensure he didn’t try anything, while they removed and replaced the offensive device.
After noticing how sick the Pegasus had become from eating solid foods, they switched to a juice diet. The liquid sat more easily in Pensword’s stomach, and helped provide the nutrition he required. A few more days, and, hopefully, he would be able to return to something more solid again.
The distinct lack of any sign of opposition or utterance left the guards more at ease with their suddenly compliant prisoner, and the Pegasus’ sudden apathy and lethargy left him with a much smaller audience than he normally would have drawn. He was sick. That much was evident. But it wasn’t just his body’s attempts to mend itself that churned his stomach. Anger burned hot and red, spoiling his appetite. They were laughing at his expense. They thought they had broken him, and for all he knew, may have been trying to destroy his mind from the very start. That did not sit well with the commander. Not at all.
Pensword growled in frustration as that annoying tingle returned to his wings, a sign of the dreaded itch that was perhaps more torturous than even being imprisoned for months. While this was a good sign of mending and feather growth, it still left the Pegasus less than amenable.
The guards had given him back his pens and inkwell, but that had done little to abate the anger the Pegasus felt. His own feathers. They had taken his feathers, cleaned them, and then returned them with a sharpened nub to write. Yet another insult he would make sure to pay back, when his time came.
For now, however, Pensword knew he only had one option. He would wait. He would watch. He would listen.
And then he would plan.
‘They will pay,’ Pensword thought to himself. ‘Oh, yes. They will pay.’
“All right, you two,” Vital Spark began, “we’ve called the both of you here, after much counsel, observation, recommendation, and deliberation.” He looked to a tall bull with a dark red coat of fur and creamy white horns. A massive lochabre ax hung from his back. “Cast Iron Bulwark, your defensive skills have earned you quite the reputation among your peers, making you one of the most balanced among the warriors of your tribe in regards to a fighting style. An ability to shift from offensive to defensive at a moment’s notice is a vital attribute to hone in the event of an unexpected change in an opponent’s strategy. Given the nature of the mission you are about to embark upon, those skills will prove incredibly useful.”
The Unicorn turned to look at the Zebra mare standing by the red Minotaur. “Mpiga, your skills as a diviner have been useful in determining the points of interest to attack and in evading enemy patrols. However, Zecora has informed me you also have been learning to utilize certain shaman arts as well to bolster your talents. On top of this, you have proven most adept in the arts of healing and swift to learn any other new skills that we deem necessary for you to learn. This is why we have determined you would be a suitable partner for this mission.”
Vital narrowed his gaze as he looked to both soldiers. “It is up to the pair of you to sneak past the enemy camps, while we distract them. Once you have succeeded, you are to use your combined skills to locate a hidden cave. Within, you will find instructions on how to lower the wall once and for all, and more importantly, have the chance to recruit seven incredibly powerful allies to our cause. You are both to treat them with respect. They are closely related to the Earth Mother and do not take kindly to impertinence.” He cleared his throat. “The rate of successful battles and overall performance during this war could hang on how well you execute this mission. As such, failure cannot be an option. Do you understand?”
Both creatures nodded.
“Good. Grif has some words of advice for you. Make sure you listen to them carefully. Do so, and you will probably return in one piece. Don’t, and it’s likely you may not. I believe we all would prefer the first option.” He raised his hoof and ceded the floor to the Gryphon as he backed away. “Grif.”
“I suppose it goes without saying that if something goes wrong, we won’t be aware, until hours after,” Grif began, “which means that we can’t offer you aid, and we likely can’t save you. I don’t say this lightly, but most of our lives depend on you accomplishing this task. It is worth more than your life to fail. Remember that.”
Cast Iron let out a heavy grunt as he nodded his affirmation. Mpiga offered a rigid salute as two bags were levitated to the warriors.
“I’ve enchanted these bags with a spell that will allow them to be larger on the inside. They won’t hold a hut’s worth of materials, like some of the more skilled enchanters have achieved, but they should prove satisfactory for your various needs. Healing herbs, emergency weapons, and other such materials that are suitable to your respective talents are there in abundance. Make sure to make good use of them, should the need arise. The two of you will be relying on one another to succeed in this task, so make sure that you work as a team.
This is not a race, not a competition, and no rush for glory. If you fail to work together, then we all lose, and that is something we cannot afford to allow. Assuming all goes well, the two of you will not only be warriors on a mission, but the representatives of your very race and culture standing to be judged. That judgement must be in our favor. If it is not, there will be … complications of the sort that we are not currently equipped to deal with. Maintain the relationship the pair of you have developed through this war and there shouldn’t be any problems. In short, and forgive me for sounding so stereotypically Equestrian here, be friends. Prove your harmony. The rest will work itself out.”
“Anything else?” Cast Iron rumbled.
“Not that I’m aware of,” Vital said.
“And when will the attack commence?” Mpiga asked. Unlike her fellows, her mane had been completely shaved down to match her head fur, making it look, for all intents and purposes, like she was bald.
“Nightfall,” Hammer Strike replied.
Mpiga nodded. “Logical. With permission, the two of us will withdraw to prepare and coordinate our strategies.”
Vital Spark nodded. “You may go. We have our own strategies to prepare in the meantime.”
The cool night savannah breeze blew gently over the longrass as bulls trundled through the villages the Zebras had built. Torches interspersed through the compounds lit up the night, providing the illumination necessary to navigate the avenues therein. In the time the original occupants had been gone, the Minotaurs had increased the fortifications, adding walled barriers accentuated by thick stakes. A heavy set of gates had been installed along this new makeshift barricade to serve as one of the only places of entry along the passage. Warriors patrolled the edges along the walls, peering through carefully slitted portions that ensured no projectiles would pass through, while still granting a proper view of what lay beyond.
Whatever was to come, these warriors were ready. Which is why they were more than a little surprised at the sudden detonations that went off in the sky above their heads. Bright shades of blue, white, red, green, and yellow popped and whistled loudly, illuminating the grounds like so many bolts of lightning, before fading off into the darkness. Then came the drums. The rhythm thrummed through the air and the earth, an ominous portent. These were not the familiar steady drums the Minotaurs had come to understand in the spread of their messages. These were lively and filled with determination.
Another flash blazed with a detonation, and shadows gathered on the edge of sight. Then came another as the shades doubled, then another, and another as the numbers continued to swell, spreading across the grasslands. The compound came alive in a matter of seconds as the bulls bellowed their orders and warriors took up their positions. The sound of stampeding hooves alerted them to the rapid rush of warriors peeling back from the escarpment.
Vital Spark couldn’t help but smile as he launched off another volley of magical fireworks into the air. “You know, I never thought Trixie’s spell would actually come in handy in a war like this.” He chuckled. “Just wait till I tell her.” He looked back over to the Earth Pony, who stood in the midst of a pool of shadow, manipulating the decoys they’d spread to bolster their numbers. “You holding up okay, Hammer Strike?” he asked.
“Manipulating shadows is easier than dealing with time,” Hammer Strike replied, before muttering a soft, “not you,” then rolling his eyes.
“Grif, are we ready for the first volley, or did you want to halloo a challenge with that horn of yours first?” Vital asked.
“I think fast and deadly should be our goals right now.” Grif shook his head. “Have the archers spread out and fire two volleys in rapid succession. Regular arrows, then fire arrows.”
“Any other orders to relay, while I’m at it?”
“I want you to have several squads sneak around to the other side of camp, without being seen. No one lives. No witnesses. When they try to flee, they’re to be torn apart, got it?”
Vital sighed. “I’ll see to it.”
It was a simple thing for Vital Spark to supply the main troops with the extra fireworks he’d prepared. A spark to activate the runes would be all it took. He gave a grim nod of understanding to his friends, then swallowed and strode back to his fellow troops. Each had been decked out in camouflage to ensure they could blend in with the shadows. As an added effect, Vital Spark had sketched out certain runes that they would need to include in their designs to help silence their hoofsteps and ensure they were able to block perception. It only worked on lesser minds, but since the Minotaurs were worked up and focused on the battle brewing by the main camp, they would likely be easily diverted.
“Mpiga, Bulwark, are you ready?” he asked the pair.
The two nodded quietly.
“Then let’s move out.”
True to the plan, the team departed between flashes, snaking through the longrass as silently as they could manage. The walls and new fortifications were intimidating, though not entirely insurmountable. Thanks to the initial volley of flaming arrows, several Minotaurs were already rushing to the point of impact to ensure the flames couldn’t spread too much farther. After using their shamanistic arts to detect any potential foes nearby, the Zebra troops gave their all-clear. Vital nodded.
“Bulwark, if you would do us the honors?” the Unicorn asked.
The bull didn’t need any more prodding. One heavy blow was all it took to send cracks running throughout the structure. Vital Spark finished the job quickly with an icy blast to break the earth apart. From there, it was a simple matter to remove the stakes and make their way past the barrier.
“All right. You all know your orders. It’s our job to make sure no stragglers escape and to make it look like that’s our only purpose back here, got it?” Vital looked to their two agents. “You two need to get to the escarpment as fast as possible. Find the entrance, get to the chamber, and do whatever you have to to ensure we get that help. Remember, innocent lives are hanging in the balance on both sides. Get control of that escarpment, no matter what it takes.”
The two units nodded and broke for the edifice. Then Vital Spark turned to his fellows.
“All right. Let’s figure out where our big friends are holed up. From there, we’ll form a proper perimeter to prevent any messengers from returning to the escarpment. Let’s move out.”
Grif lashed out with his tail in a scorpion-like stab, impaling a Minotaur through the chest with his tailblade as he decapitated another with a flick of his sword. So far, the battle was going as planned. Between the panic of the fire and the suddenness of the strike, the enemy was having a difficult time getting organized. With any luck, Vital Spark and the holdouts at the back of the camp would end up with very little to do.
Hammer Strike, for his part, was more focused on the enemy as bull after bull was reduced to a random association of body parts, courtesy of Derflinger passing through them. The blade, for its part, was laughing as it flung insults and harsh language at all who passed by it’s dervish of death.
“We need to start picking up the pace,” Hammer Strike commented mostly to himself.
“Sorry, partner, but I can’t exactly go out and fight on my own,” Derflinger replied.
“Not exactly what I meant. I feel like this is taking longer than I wanted.”
Cast Iron Bulwark and Mpiga both looked up at the great passage that had opened above them. The descent had been swift and somewhat painful, when they hit bottom. Thanks to the Zebra’s divinations, they had been able to locate their point of entry. What her skills had not revealed was how that entry would surprise them with a slip-and-slide straight to the bottom. However, now a series of massive stalactites dripped down from above, filling the cavern with the echoes of the water’s fall.
“How is it that no one was able to sense this before?” Mpiga marveled.
Bulwark grunted and shrugged.
“I suppose it doesn’t matter, anyways, does it?”
This time, Bulwark nodded, then snorted and pointed down the path.
“Yeah, I suppose it is time to get to work,” Mpiga agreed. She dusted herself off, then quickly checked over her satchel to ensure nothing had been broken. When everything had been accounted for, she strode forward with the bull striding beside her. “How much are you willing to wager that there’s a test designed for each of us?”
Bulwark snorted, sputtered out his lips, then shook his head violently.
“Yeah, I wouldn’t take that bet ether,” Mpiga agreed. “Still, if this cavern is under the escarpment, then I wonder how it’s stood for so long.”
Bulwark stomped his hoof and a chunk of earth leaped up into his hand as he looked meaningfully at Mpiga.
“Force of will?”
Bulwark nodded.
“That would take an awful lot of it.” She chuckled. “Then again, the earth itself was supposed to be what did this, so why wouldn’t its will be up to the task?”
Bulwark nodded again, then smirked.
“Cheeky,” Mpiga returned with the same smirk.
Bulwark just let his tail “accidentally” brush her face as they walked past, still maintaining that teasing smirk.
Mpiga narrowed her eyes at the bull. “Careful there. You may bite off more than you can chew,” she said as she followed after.
Bulwark chuckled.
At last, they came to the far end of the cavern, where a pair of plinths sat off on either side of a portion of the wall. Mineralization formed two sets of irregular outlines that looked almost like a frame; one that stretched up into the shadows above their heads and was lost.
“So, how much are you willing to bet those are for us?” Mpiga asked as she motioned towards the plinths with a jerk of her head.
Bulwark just stepped up and clopped onto the surface, before turning to look questioningly at Mpiga.
“Yes, yes. I’m coming,” she said, rolling her eyes, before joining her companion on the parallel surface. The moment she found her footing, both plinths shuddered and the stone ground as the walls next to the pair receded into curved tubular openings lined with veins of crystal and various sigils unfamiliar to the pair, including what appeared to be an upside down horseshoe. A few crunches later, the stone receded, leaving indentations on the platform and in the new walls for the two adventurers’ hooves and hands.
The instructions were far too obvious to ignore. The two companions looked to each other, then approached the divets, being careful to insert their hooves in exactly the right places, followed by forehooves and hands as Mpiga reared up to lean into the alcove. They waited there for some time.
Nothing happened.
They pushed.
Nothing happened.
They tried a series of numeric and rhythmic combinations: tapping, clopping, and otherwise.
Still, nothing happened.
Bulwark tossed his head and lowed in frustration.
“I know. I feel the same.”
Bulwark snorted as his tail lashed behind him.
“Well, I do have one idea we haven’t tried yet.”
Bulwark quirked an eyebrow.
Mpiga took a deep breath, then closed her eyes as a blue glow began to surround her hooves. Almost immediately, the light began to flow along the crystal pathways. She smiled cheekily at her companion. “See? I knew there was a reason you needed me.”
Bulwark rolled his eyes as the fur at his wrists ignited in an aura that writhed like flames, before channeling down his hands and into the surface of the panel on his side.
“Showoff.”
Bulwark just smirked as the pair channeled their energies through the crystal veins together.
Navy blue washed over the left side of the cave, illuminating the walls and stalactites of the cave, while a radiant ruby-red filled in on the right, channeling through glyphs and runes that looked almost like the magical channels of the Crystal Empire. High at the top of the great wall, a massive orb awaited, pulling in the colors from both sides in the minutest channels, before the pair finally touched, and the orb ground loudly as it slowly began to turn. Faster and faster it went, gaining greater speed as the two lights ran together, until they became a blur, and that blur merged into a radiant purple. A pinprick of white light began to pulse in the center of the stone, growing larger with each second as a myriad of colors pulsed within, and the grating turned into an almost musical hum.
Quite suddenly, the orb stopped turning, and a loud bell-like tone rang out in a deep gong as that white light surged out of the stone to fill the etchings throughout the cave with a veritable rainbow lightshow. The two partners marvelled at the sight, before a beam of white light shot down out from the stone, dividing up the portal and causing it to slowly grind open as the two sides retracted into the wall, like the bay doors of a hangar.
“Shall we?” Mpiga asked as the doors finally ended their retraction with a loud boom.
Bulwark nodded and pulled his lochabre out from its resting place on his back, before taking the lead.
Vital Spark looked back at the pillar of solar fire towering behind as he and his team slowly advanced on the enemy encampment. Their bodies crept skillfully along the ground to peer at the battle. True to the plan, the few defenders left from the original invasion force had moved to engage with Hammer Strike and the others. The threat of a large invading force left their rear completely unguarded.
“Remember to keep an eye out for any signs of a messenger or runner. They can’t get over the escarpment, but if they can send a message to their allies, they will. Kill them, before they get that chance.”
The Zebras nodded as they prepared their bows and nocked their arrows. If any of the combatants did try to flea, they would be in for a very nasty surprise.
The second chamber was a complete contrast to its sibling. Layer upon layer of crystal rose in tiers, refracting light to spread throughout. The narrow passage carried through as their distorted reflections flowed among the lights and disappeared in the aurora. At last, the pair arrived in a great atrium, standing on a circular balcony.
In due course, a series of pulsing circular lights appeared before them, thrumming within the crystals. A deep rich purple lay at the center, flanked on either side by vibrant greens. Gold sat farther to the left and a vivid rainbow to the right. A sapphire-blue pulsed on the farthest left with red to compliment it on the farthest right, completing the spectrum.
A woman’s voice, rang rich and vibrant through the crystal as the purple light flickered.
“Long ago, in the time immemorial, seven mighty forces were born from the great mother. Treasured and beloved, they were raised to use their power justly, and so they did. They scoured the lands in search of those who could use their gifts and guidance, a tall task, indeed, given that many had already found a power to serve and learn from. In time, the seven found what they sought, and soon had adopted children of their own to raise and nurture into a golden age. However, as all things are in mortality, it was not to last.
“The great follies of greed, avarice, pride, arrogance, and ambition reared their ugly heads, and the seven found themselves betrayed, the very gifts they had granted their children used in pairing with perverted magic and pieces imbued with the forces’ essence to perform an unspeakable act. The seven’s judgement was swift, and their curse strong as they left their children to fend for themselves, once more, for these betrayers had lost the right to be called by such a beloved name.
“Torn with grief at the suffering caused and the loss of life that would surely follow, the seven traveled far, to a land where the betrayers could not give chase. There, they stayed and mourned, watching the world around them with neither joy nor peace. Their tears flowed unending, creating a lake of salt and brine as wide as the plains beyond.
“In due course, one of the four-legs climbed to the highest peak by this solitary lake, in search of enlightenment. Long did this one wait, pondering in silence, living off what little the land would offer. All was bitter, and yet he chose to endure. The powers were perturbed, but not so much as to pull them from their grief. For what is time to that which is immortal? The creature would leave, in due course, as all such creatures must.
“And so it remained, until the creature had begun to wizen. At last, the creature turned and looked upon the tears of the seven, and he spoke. ‘Why do you weep, oh great ones?’ he asked. ‘Your mourning has touched the very rocks and trees, themselves. What could have caused such terrible pain?’
“The powers remained silent, unwilling to delve into a wound still so very tender. This did not prove amenable to the four-leg, and so he set about meditating again. The winds carried the sighs of the mourners. The grass fed on tears. The ground was made hard by the staunch refusal to let go.
“And still the seeker listened. Still, the creature pondered. Still, the creature felt, until the day that his eyes were opened, for the land had learned the story long before he arrived. And now he had learned to listen to the land. He knew of the seven’s pain, and he felt it keenly, for their story was now his story. ‘Is there nothing I can do?’ he asked, ‘no means to heal your wound?’
“The wails of the seven reverberated to the vaults of the heavens, and their tears were as a torrent, flooding the basin where the four-leg had stayed. The creature would certainly have perished, as all mortal things do, were it not for the intervention of one who had also been watching. This one was impressed with the four-leg’s understanding, his ability to adapt, his capacity for growth. Here was a kindred spirit that wished only to ease suffering.
“In a matter of moments, the world was consumed with fire. The lake and its lands were no more. All that remained was the four-leg, his savior, and the seven. Chastisement was given, and a peace brokered. Indebted to the four-leg for so callously putting his life in danger, it was agreed, albeit reluctantly, that he would take what he had learned to teach his fellows, and the seven would watch over him and his own for so long as they would live upon the face of the land.
“For a time, peace reigned. The four-legs grew and developed, learning the gentler arts of the earth as the elder passed on his knowledge. In time, the elder left his people under the care of the seven, and they flourished, until war reared its ugly head.
“Anger and pride led the four-legs to battle the horned ones, and their conflict raged for an age. The seven watched and waited, for their new children had grown into a nation all their own, and needed to make their own choices. But when it became clear just how terrible the cost of battle had become for both sides, the seven made their choice. Pooling their collective wills, the seven rent the land and entered into slumber, forever dividing the warring peoples.
“The cause of this war was simple. Each believed themselves the true children of the land. Know ye, therefore, that this is a lie. Neither side is greater, nor race better. The fact that you have come united to find this chamber is proof of this, for neither one could make it alone. Therefore, we welcome you, Zebra and Minotaur alike. Welcome to the chamber of rest. I am Amethyst, the eldest of my siblings. These are my twin brothers, Emerald. The others are Topaz, Opal, Ruby, and Sapphire.”
Bulwark raised an eyebrow and folded his arms, shifting his stance to look skeptically at the lights.
“Did you really expect us to manifest physically before you? To do so would mean to destroy this cavern and you with it,” the golden light that was Topaz retorted with cool logic.
“We came here, because we need your help,” Mpiga said, quickly cutting to the point. “In your absence, the Minotaurs found a means to break through the wall you created and invade our home. There are those who objected to this invasion, and defected to join us in our defense, but the vast majority still follow their leader, a new chieftain bent on conquest.”
The rainbows flickered as the colors lashed around inside Opal’s sphere. “So, my nightmares came true, after all,” a gentle girlish voice said. “I had hoped this particular future wouldn’t come to pass. But even in the darkest hour, hope shines. Have the travellers come?”
“Opal, have you–”
“–Been hiding things–”
“–From us?” the twin Emeralds asked.
“She has,” Amethyst said, though she sounded more intrigued than upset.
“She stacked the deck,” Sapphire chortled in satin tones. “You sly minx.”
“At least it all turned out right in the end,” Ruby pulsed. The voice wavered between alto and tenor, leaving it difficult, if not outright impossible to determine a proper gender.
“The end is not yet, but it will come, if we take the proper course,” Opal counseled.
Mpiga cleared her throat. “If by travelers, you mean the Gryphon and Pony, then yes, they’ve come.”
“Has no attempt at peace been made?” Topaz asked. “Surely, Prometheus’ current avatar would be able to broker one.”
“Prometheus?” Mpiga asked, confused at the name.
“He wouldn’t–”
“–Be useful–”
“–Anyway,” the twins said.
“We sense–”
“–No honor–”
“–In this fight;–”
“–Only bloodlust,” they finished.
“One of the travelers told us we need to enlist your aid, not to get involved directly in the conflict, but to allow us and our forces passage into the Stampede Grounds. We march to put a stop to the conflict and to release one of the travelers’ companions, who was taken captive,” Mpiga continued. “Will you help us in this thing?”
The lights dimmed.
“Our family would not take kindly to such action,” Sapphire warned. “If these visitors are powerful and clever enough to defeat the other horned ones, and their fight leads to the far north….” Sapphire said.
“Would they perhaps listen to reason, if we were present to speak with them?” Ruby asked.
“That, I cannot see for certain. It is possible, however, if we can explain, before they are fully awake,” Opal said.
“You won’t have to help us fight the Minotaurs,” Mpiga promised. “We only wish safe passage, and justice is on our side.”
“We will consider your request, daughter,” Amethyst finally said. “We will call for you, when we have reached our decision.”
“How long, until then?”
The lights began to fade. “As long as it takes,” her voice echoed and receded into the crystal.
Mpiga swore as the cave darkened to a dim glow, just enough to see by, while a passage opened to the side along a new walkway.
Bulwark shrugged and walked toward the path.
Mpiga sighed. “Yeah, I guess we should give them the news. You get to tell them, though.”
The caves reverberated with Bulwark’s surprised bellow of protest.
“All right, gentlemen, today’s the day. Are you ready to take the fight to enemy soil?” Vital Spark asked of his companions. The graves had already been dug and filled with the bodies of the fallen Minotaur troops. True to Grif and Hammer Strike’s orders, none had been left alive.
“We’ll finally be able to get to work,” Hammer Strike replied simply.
“I still can’t believe we’re actually dealing with deities from ancient Greece. It’s crazy, but in a sort of awesome way,” the Unicorn said.
“Really? We’ve dealt with everything else,” Grif said.
“Correction. You two have dealt with everything else. I came in late.” Vital winked at his friends. “Then again, I guess visiting with a certain love bird would have counted, huh?”
“Amongst other things,” Grif nodded.
“So, Hammer Strike, you think you can push that solar wall ahead of us, when the opening pops up? I’m guessing the Minotaurs are going to want to try hitting us, while we’re traveling through.”
“Easily.”
“Good. And the shamans will be alert to counter any attempts to use boulders or other aspects of earth against us. We should probably brace for heavy resistance. The Minotaurs would have sent a lot of troops to the wall by now, trying to find a way to break through again.”
It took another hour, before the ground began to shake and wobble beneath the army’s hooves and talons respectively. Then came the crack as, piece by piece, a section of the escarpment gradually collapsed into the earth, like a giant sinkhole.
“And that’s our cue, I suppose,” Vital said. “Grif, if you would be so kind, could you sound the horn?”
Grif retrieved an old war horn and blew, filling the air with its rising call. Three times, he blasted; and with that opening salvo, the troops advanced. It was a simple matter for Hammer Strike to shift his barrier and convert it into an unstoppable battering ram. Solar fire burned ahead of the soldiers, scorching the earth in its passing as the thunderous bellow of what had to be hundreds of Minotaurs sounded all at once.
“Archers, make ready!” Vital Spark cried. “The moment we clear the passage, let loose with a volley. Target only the bulls. Leave the cows unharmed, unless they deliberately try to attack. Spearstallions and mares, brace for combat. Same rules of engagement apply. Guards, make sure to protect Fjüra. We owe it to the Longhorns to keep her safe. If you want any other orders, you look to Hammer Strike or Grif.” He pulled out his rungu and hunga munga, holding both in his magical grip as they continued their advance. “Good luck, gentlemen,” he said to his friends as they approached the other side of the escarpment.
When the last of the escarpment finally gave way, the invasion party wasted no time. Row upon row of Minotaurs stretched back, and the loud bellows that were their warcries combined with the dust rising in the distance heralded the rapid approach of reinforcements. The blazing light of the solar fire and the trembling of the earth had given the troops enough notice to organize. Unfortunately for them, that organization meant nothing as the final portion of the wall burned red-hot. The earth finally gave way, and chunks of molten rock burst out with the inferno, vaporizing all the units before them, right to the very rear of their forces. Arrows soon followed as the Zebras began to pour forward, bursting enemy tendons and liquifying bones.
Despite the incursion’s valiant first strike, however, the numbers of the Minotaurs were still vast, rising into the thousands. The shock of the first dramatic blow had only lasted for so long, before they rallied, closing ranks around the opening in an attempt to secure the choke point.
“This isn’t looking good, guys,” Vital Spark said as his eyes darted back and forth between the troops, while he fired off beams of magic to freeze or otherwise hinder their opponents. Already, the troops were running out of room, and more Zebras were still trying to push their way in from behind.
“Fall back and stay out of my way,” Grif ordered.
“Where to? There are still troops trying to make it through the opening,” Vital pointed out.
“Just keep everybody behind me,” Grif ordered as he rushed ahead, drawing both swords.
“Is he going to do what I think he’s going to do?” Vital asked Hammer Strike.
“Probably.”
Grif crossed his blades for a moment. His eyes began to glow as the wind picked up around him, battering and blasting anything that got too close. The breeze became a gale and the gale a tempest. Grif let out a roar as he uncrossed his blades. The air around him shot outwards in a whirlwind of power. Black air mixed in with the regular winds, creating a mesmerizing effect. Grif swung outwards to his nearest target. The breeze off the sword blades cut right through the Minotaur’s bulk and traveled onwards, alicing both arms off the warrior and everyone behind him. Grif batted his wings forward, and minotaurs began grasping at their throats, trying to take in air as it was pulled back and ripped from their lungs to join the tempest that was Grif Grafson. And still, the Gryphon continued to strike out at anything still standing.
Blood dyed the ground beneath the dark warrior, his armor, his fur, leaving little but a crimson blur as the he threw everything he had forwards, turning the would-be-attackers to ribbons. Soon, those not close enough to attack bellowed a retreat and the air was filled with the stampede of scared minotaurs trying to avoid the battle-crazed Gryphon. Grif chased after them, cutting down opponents as they tried to flee, until both he and the opponents were lost in the distance.
Finally, several minutes later, the air seemed to relax and something told Vital it was over. He had witnessed the culling at the choke point, but the sight that greeted his eyes as he stepped farther into the field was nothing short of ghastly. Severed heads and other limbs littered the ground. Fearful, unseeing eyes gaped pleadingly at the troops that approached. The copper scent of blood hung heavily in the air, and only the years of intense personal discipline kept the Unicorn from losing his breakfast. Off in the distance, Grif sat panting amid a pile of bodies, his patch of earth the sole eye of the storm, untouched by the blood of his victims. Vigilance and Vengeance lay impaled in a cadaver as the Gryphon clutched at the hilts. His arms were shaking as he panted from his exertions.
Vital Spark levitated a damp cloth mutely before the Gryphon as he and Hammer Strike approached. The remainder of the troops tarried by the wall, ensuring the caravan finished passing through the escarpment to prepare for the next leg of their journey.
Grif said nothing, but nodded with thanks as he took the cloth to wash his face.
“That … was a lot of kills,” Vital finally managed to say as he looked over the sea of corpses. “Did any of them manage to get away?”
“Count them up, Vital. There’s a few hundred here. They had thousands. That outburst was to make them run, not wipe them out. Honestly, I’m not sure I could kill them all by myself.”
“I don’t know. Build up enough discipline and power, and you probably could,” Vital said as a hint of a smile pulled at his lips. Then he let it fall. “We’ve got a foothold now, but you look pretty tired. How long do you need to rest to recover?”
“Six hours,” Grif said. “Maybe seven.”
“A simple nap, and you’ll be back,” Hammer Strike shrugged.
“Do you have enough strength to move or do we need to set up camp over here?” Vital asked.
“I can move,” Grif chuckled. “Just don’t ask me to fight.”
“Please. We both know you could still whoop my sorry butt like this,” Vital teased as he pulled another cloth from his pouch. “Go ahead and clean Vigilance and Vengeance. Then we can go.”
Pensword narrowed his eyes as he listened to the murmurings of the crowd. There were less than usual. He would have thought his novelty was finally beginning to fade, but the actions of his keepers had changed. Rather than relax, the opposite had proven true.
His wing twitched as the itch of growing feathers once again pulled his attention away from his musings. The soreness had ended, which was a definite plus. His wing had finally stopped hurting as well. He wasn’t sure if that was the result of his thaumic field speeding things up or not. That being said, based on the way his wing stretched, it was clear the limb hadn’t healed properly. A solid lump of hardened tissue bulged against the veiny skin. Despite his best efforts, the bone hadn’t set properly. He’d definitely need a healer, when they got back to the present. The question was which one to ask for help.
Luna was certainly at the top of his list, both for physical and mental healing. Her gifts in combat medicine and dream walking would make her the prime candidate to assist with any lingering scars this particular adventure might leave behind.
Clover…. Well, the very idea made him shudder. She was certainly skilled enough as a healer, but her bedside manner left much to be desired. He really didn’t need someone threatening to hit him with a bolt of lightning every few sentences, if any of Vital Spark’s jibes held even a grain of truth.
Suddenly, his eyes widened as his ears perked. He jerked his head. He could have sworn he heard the shrill cry of an eagle, a cry he knew only too well from two years of sharing the fields of combat and friendship.
“Grif?” he murmured. Then he shook his head. No, if it had been Grif, the guards would be dead, and the wall would have been ground to dust. The Gryphon would have whisked them both far away in the blink of an eye.
All the same, the idea that the others could be on their way provided a certain element of comfort that he welcomed. Even if it was just his imagination, was it really such a bad thing to hope for the best? With that in mind, he put himself to work, jotting a tally of the changes down in his head. If rescue was indeed coming, he was certain he would see greater evidence to support the fact soon enough. After all, nopony in his right mind would stand long against a vengeful Avatar of Winds and the quiet rage of Celestia’s Ghost.
Disiungitur bellowed with rage, his hooves smashing the ground before him as he let the body fall limp before him, its head twisted at an unnatural angle. His flaming pelt practically glowed in the fires of the setting sun. Still unsatisfied, the great leader leaned down and clasped the messenger’s horns in either hand, before twisting his wrists almost negligently to break the bone and keratin from the surface of the younger Minotaur’s head with a wrenching double crack that echoed through the peaks, like a gunshot. Then he stabbed them into the younger bull’s torso, followed by kicking the corpse into the air and against the wall with all his strength. The violent snap of bones breaking on stone and the following cracks as the mass and velocity dealt their returning blows finally lessened his haze enough to think clearly. He stomped over to one of the many hidden stone doors that stretched into the endless maze of galleys spreading throughout the mountain. Two guards stood on either side of the passage.
“You,” he snarled at the first one. “Get me the lead cow. I don’t care what she’s doing. Bring her to me immediately.”
“But, Sir–.”
“Are you questioning my orders?” Disiungitur’s voice had suddenly become soft and surprisingly level. The lead bull stared flatly at the perceived upstart, then raised a single brow.
The warrior shuddered once, the only sign of the trembling he was working so very hard to hold back. “At once, most revered Herd Leader.” He turned and quickly made his way down the hall.
Then Disiungitur turned to the other bull. “And you, there is trash in my quarters. You will dispose of it, before the sacred cow arrives. We wouldn’t wish to offend her or her young heifers.”
The other bull gulped as he noticed the hints of blood drying on the fringes of his lead bull’s arms. “O-of course.” He bowed his head in submission. “As you command.”
About a half hour later, an older cow was rather hastily ushered into the hall. She wore a thick robe of a deep green, and was followed by an entourage of younger cows. “This had best be important, Disiungitur. The gods do not appreciate those who push their messengers around.”
“The gods also do not appreciate invasion,” the lead bull snapped as he approached the cow and narrowed his gaze. “I have just received word. How is it that the four-legs have managed to cross into our lands, when all of your combined power proved unable to breach the great wall again?”
“Perhaps your war was not supported by the gods, like you claimed? Perhaps this is their retribution.”
Disiungitur bellowed violently, causing the younger heifers to flinch under his harsh gaze. “We acted on the word of the Longhorns. They were attacked, unprovoked, and it was not until after our assault began that the land began to heal. These are not rumors, but facts.” He slammed his hoof down, causing many cracks to span out from the floor. “Not only do they dare to infringe upon our grounds, but they have allied themselves with the sky shriekers, ones who command the spirits of the air. You know the ways of the earth. You listen to the voices of the spirits. You craft the finest weapons and armor our people have ever known. If these invaders continue their path, then it is only a matter of time, before they come for Labyrinthian. Have your heifers and cows craft all the weapons and armor that they can. We must be prepared.”
It was not a request.
“We both know, had you not stirred them into a frenzy, the Longhorns would have sent a delegation to settle the matter, not a disguised raiding party,” she said as she turned to walk away. “What will you do, if your actions wake the gods?”
“They did send a delegation. I didn’t set the four-legs to attack them. As for the gods, let them judge me as they will. I have nothing to fear from them.” He snorted in disgust as he turned back to a gnarled black stone hammer with red leather spiraling down on either side of what appeared to be crimson geodes. The crystals acted as a window to the heavy tempered metal that lay beneath. Two wicked spikes were mounted, one to either side of the hammer’s face, and a third on top. A final spike jutted out from the butt of the shaft. “Let the four-legs come, if they dare. It will be through their own blood.”
The very next morning, Pensword woke early. The pity party he had given himself was over. He knew the tides had changed. The bulls’ restlessness was evidence enough. So, that morning, while keeping his bad wing tucked at his side, he began to perform one wing pushups. While it was a little odd using mostly flesh and not a magic infused feather, like the other Pegasi, he couldn’t afford to wait for his feathers to grow again, before rebuilding the lapse in muscle training. He managed about twenty in the time that the visitors realized that their little pet had changed attitudes again. Feeling the effort pushing the limb towards collapse, he switched to using his hooves.
The guards watched and jeered at the Pegasus as he continued to push himself. The distraction was a welcome sight, further evidence of the changes Pensword had noticed. The room had begun to smell lightly of his exertions, after a week with neither shower nor bath offered. But seeing as his hosts didn’t seem to care, the warrior pressed on. He wouldn’t give them any more satisfaction than they had already achieved.
As the warrior worked his body, he also worked his mind, running potential escape scenarios. Like it or not, with the way he had been limited to the ground, it was quite likely he would need to wait for a suitable distraction to have any chance of a proper escape. Thaumic crystals would serve as a strong enough explosive, provided he didn’t use too many of them at once. Assuming he utilized the wind crystals, he could at least avoid destroying the Minotaurs’ souls, though he could say little for their bodies. That still didn’t provide him an easy means of escaping the guards, though. If he couldn’t work that out, he would be dead before he could get to cover.
He wasn’t sure how much time had passed, when the Minotaurs entered with his meal. The scent of hot porridge made his mouth water, but he didn’t let up. There was still more to be done, before he was ready to eat. Besides, every warrior knew it was best to wait for a time, after working out, before consuming a meal. He did stop, however, when a sudden deluge of warm water smashed him to the ground. He growled in frustration at the soaked bandages, then glared at his keepers. Were they trying to ruin his recovery?
“Idiots,” he spat quietly as he shook the water from his mane. There wasn’t much he could do about the wraps, except lay in the sun and hope the damp wouldn’t have a negative effect as it air-dried. However, since the brutes had disrupted his workout anyways, he figured he might as well make his way to the table. It would give him an opportunity to examine the doorway more closely, anyways.
The porridge was filling, if a little bland. Rather than risk revealing his plans, the Pegasus opted for pretending to savor the meal. This allowed him the opportunity to close his eyes and focus on clearing his mind. It didn’t take long for his thaumic senses to stretch out to the walls. He felt the earth aspect easily and probed ever so gently, in search for any signs of air pockets he could make use of along the door’s frame. The seam was very small. About the only way he’d be getting crystals in there would be to manifest them directly inside the crevice.
Now, how to do that, without raising suspicion?
Pensword looked idly down to his bowl. A bright red pomegranate shone dully in the light, next to his place. A smirk pulled at the commander’s lips. His ink stores were running low. If he were to make it look like he was trying to produce a new means to draw along the entry….
Yes, that would work nicely. That would work very nicely, indeed.
Vital Spark looked regretfully back at the rising pillars of smoke curling from the latest city. For such a warlike culture, their architecture was surprisingly advanced. It was a pity to have to break down the structures. Their weapons were another story, however. The Longhorns took whatever they thought would prove most useful. The rest were destroyed either by Hammer Strike’s hooves, Grif’s wind, or Vital’s own ice, before Hammer Strike finished the job with his flames.
“Does it always have to be this way, Grif? The burning and destroying, I mean,” the Unicorn asked as he turned away to look out at the horizon. Far in the distance, a great mountain range loomed into view. It was a long ways off yet, but the fact they appeared so large already was a testament to just how immense the edifices were.
“They made a statement. We’re simply answering in kind,” Grif told Vital.
“I know.” He sighed. “I just wish it wasn’t necessary, you know?” He looked back towards the mountains. “It won’t be that long, before we get to the capital, will it? Do you think Pensword is all right?”
“He’s alive. That’s the best I can give you right now,” Grif answered honestly.
“How can you tell that?”
“If he’d have died, Hammer Strike would know.”
“How?”
“Death?” Grif said after a moment.
Vital Spark stared off into space as he deadpanned. “You know, I’d kind of forgotten about that,” he finally said as a red blush showed under his fur.
“So, finally starting to understand it?”
“War or the embodiments being a thing?”
“War,” Grif said. “This is the first time you’ve actually ended up fighting on the front lines.”
“Almost front lines,” Vital smirked. “As I recall, a certain birdbrain and his lord have been trying to keep me in charge of groups with the least likelihood of direct combat.” The smile fell then, and he sighed. “Honestly, it seems like such a big mess. I know everyone has their reasons to fight, when war comes: Family, livelihood, food, resources, influence, conquest, and sometimes battle lust. It just feels wrong, and yet, there’s no other choice here, if we’re going to reclaim what was taken. Saving Pensword, protecting my adopted family, those are my reasons. So, even though I don’t like the fighting, I’ll still do it, and I’ll endure what has to come, because I guess that’s what you have to do in war.” He chuckled ruefully. “It sucks, but there it is.”
“Now you get it,” Grif chuckled.
“Egads! Praise from Grif the Heckler? Should I be running for shelter about now? Is the moon about to fall on our heads?”
“Take it, while you can,” Grif laughed. “You’ve still got a lot to learn.”
“Naturally. Tis part of the eternal round, don’tcha know?” Vital winked at his friend. “We’ll never stop learning and growing; not ever.”
“That’s how you stay alive.”
“On the contrary, Taze. That’s how you live.”
The eldest of the sacred cows strode slowly toward the mountain entrance, then turned to face her escort. “While I appreciate the Heard Leader’s concern, we must press on alone here,” she insisted as she looked to the young warrior guard. “Our protectors lie within. You may report to the Herd Leader and assure him that you fulfilled your duty with my thanks.” She nodded gently to the bull as the twin heifers that had been enclosed by the guard emerged timidly from their living cages of muscle and fur to join the priestess.
The bull bowed his head. “I have been ordered to leave a detachment of warriors at the main entrances to the sacred mountain, Priestess. These warriors will remain to watch for any unusual activity. More will come in due time to bolster the mountain’s defenses.”
“And for a fitting, I would suppose,” the Priestess added. Her voice creaked with age, but still held the vigor of strength tempered by years of acquired wisdom.
The warrior coughed uncomfortably.
“Go on,” the female sighed tiredly. “We will send for you, when we are ready to commence the armament.” She leaned heavily on her staff. “Girls, if you would be so kind.”
The two heifers immediately sidled up on either side to offer their arms and shoulders in support, should the elderly bovine stand in need. They slowly shuffled their way into the darkness of the caves. When they were certain of being out of sight, the cow nodded to the pair and straightened her back, striding confidently to the inner chambers.
The rough exterior of the walls soon gave way to fine smooth stone filled with rivers and veins of sapphire, ruby, emerald, jade, diamond, gold, and other precious ores and gemstones. Thick columns stretched up into a vaulted ceiling suspended by gothic arches connected to the pillars. The priestess was swift to act, striding forward in a rigid, measured pace that echoed down the passages in a bold staccato. Then she raised her head and began to sing. The melody had no words, but with each step, flashes of red surged from her hooves into the smooth stone to spread along the channels of precious metals. Stones came alight as the steady thrum of her contralto permeated the caverns to reach the farthest portions of the caves.
The song continued as she strode through the caverns towards a mighty set of double doors, engraved with fifty hands on either side, lovingly clasping at the handles, where a single Minotaur stood with its head bowed in the embrace. At the rise and fall of her cadence, the sound of ancient gears and bolts long since forgotten cracked and snapped. The hands pulled back from the handles as the locks on the doors disengaged. Dirt sifted from the ceiling as the portal swung ponderously on unseen hinges, the stone grating against the dust of ages.
Without hesitation, the cow pressed forward, and great crystalline sconces ignited in radiant reds and golds to replicate the cheerful light of a torch. The two heifers gazed in awe as they followed their matriarch into the great chamber. As they passed, the light from the crystals ignited to reveal beautiful works of crystal rendered in metal framework to portray various events from their history. The great wars, the descent of the gods, the warning of wisdom to temper anger, and knowledge to hone experience in battle. At last, they came to a great amphitheater, bathed in a vale of shifting colors. And there, at the very heart, sat a tiny flickering flame, burning hot and bright within its stone housing, casting four beams of light through the slits of the container to spread up each of the four stairwells.
The great cow descended the steps, passing tier upon tier of chairs and worktables. Tools sat in the far corners, carefully preserved in their bins and containers, and on the far end of the farthest stairwell lay another pair of doors, these in iron. She closed her eyes and looked aside sadly as she strode to the flame’s container. Then she laid her hands on either side and ended in a long and weary decrescendo. The message was clear, and the whole mountain would carry it to all the cows who had the ears to hear.
Come.
And come, they did. The procession was heralded by the soft response to the priestess’ summons. They were tepid at first. The distance was long to travel, and it would take time for all to gather, but gradually, the room began to fill, and awed silence began to rise into a united chord of exultant praise and gratitude as the heifers and cows alike took their seats along the tiers. Finally, the cows reached the last note, and their voices faded into the silence.
“Sisters, times are most grave for us,” the matriarch said. “It seems we have been given a lead bull who cares not for our ways or the ways of our gods. He thinks only of war, and now our people must pay the price of war.”
A low murmur rose up over the gathering as the cows spoke among themselves. It had been their sacred duty for centuries to subtly guide the destructive tendencies of their male counterparts to avoid this outcome. Now it seemed the system designed to prevent the battle-frenzied from taking command had been overturned. And war….
“Already, reports rise that cities are being burnt. By some mercy, our attackers leave the non-combatants alive, but they kill all others,” she explained.
“And the leader kills the warriors that come back,” one cow voiced bitterly.
“If there is any hope for our species to survive this ordeal, we must prepare to do that which has not happened in many millennia.”
The amphitheater held its collective breath as the cows sat on the edges of their seats. Their matriarch’s gaze had hardened with resolve, her green robes fluttering in the drafts that passed through the room.
“My sisters, we must begin preparations to wake the hundred-handed gods.”
The gasps that followed through were profound. “But, High Priestess, without a representative of the Longhorns, the Circle of Makers won’t be complete,” one of her handmaids said urgently as she grasped her mistress’ sleeve. “An incomplete making will only wake their wrath. Please, Mistress Mtaala….”
“And what path do you see before us, child?” she asked.
Tears stood in the heifer’s eyes. “I … I don’t know, but we can’t lose you, too. There must be a way.”
“I’d rather lay down my life for the sake of the calves than watch the world burn forever.”
Mtaala planted both hands firmly on the top of the stone casing, and the flame burned a radiant white as the light drew itself into the vessel. A spherical stone carved at the top glowed with that same light, and from it, characters drew themselves into the stone along the lamp, then spread over the floor as ripples of the light flowed through the stones, then carved along the stairwell towards the great iron door. The sound of hissing metal filled the cavern as red-hot sigils burned themselves in the frame over the portal and the doors creaked open. The rivulets of energy coursed out in a series of lines that jerked at perfect right angles, flowing into one another like circuitry, before finally being lost in the darkness. A detonation soon sounded, followed by another and another as a roaring heat flowed from the chambers with a rosy glow.
“And it would seem the first flame agrees,” Mtaala said as she read over the characters.
“A perfect making for the waking, forged from heart with pure intent.
Ply the craftsman's sacred art and masters' anger will relent.
Forge the lamp with sacred fire, that a vessel it may be,
To act as beacon, rain or shine, and bring Peacemaker unto thee.
Fire calls unto its like and blood shall answer blood.
Ice and Wind and Fury’s Pyre shall wade on through the flood.
When ancient lands in chaos thrown by mindless might shall be,
Traditions chains will be cast off to set the prisoner free.
All that was and yet shall be will stand upon the knife.
One path will stand victorious, the other lose its life.”
“What … does it mean?” the heifer asked.
“It means we have work to do,” Mtaala responded as she looked to her sisters. She tore off her sleeves to expose lean, taut muscle along her milky hide. She cast her staff aside and straightened her back, rising up to her full height as joints long since bent over returned to a proper alignment. She allowed herself a single groan of pleasure. Then she strode to the stairs and began to climb. “Come. It’s time I showed you all a real forge.”
“So, we’ve finally made it,” Vital Spark said as he looked out to the massive walls that towered in the distance. The camp hadn’t built any fires under Hammer Strike’s orders, to prevent the enemy from gauging their numbers. The monastic calls of the people of Labyrinthian rolled through the still air to reverberate off the mountainsides to their camp. The atmosphere was calm, almost peaceful in a way, but both sides knew better. Both were preparing for battle. “Any ideas how to breach that wall?”
“We have a lockpick,” Grif smiled, looking to Hammer Strike.
“Just need a time for it,” Hammer Strike replied.
“As in an ideal moment to strike?” Vital asked.
“We’ll have to be ready to attack the moment the hole’s made. Who knows how long it will take to repair? And they probably know we’re coming,” Grif said.
“I’d say the messengers you left to go spread fear would have done a pretty good job of that, yes,” Vital agreed.
“Well, this is where it ends, Vital. No matter what happens, this is our Troy.”
“There’s going to be a lot of blood lost on both sides.” Vital frowned. “Is there any way we can pinpoint Pensword’s location? If we can get him out before the fighting starts, it’ll take away any potential bargaining chip they could use.”
“I can feel him in there, but I can’t waste the energy to pinpoint him right now,” Hammer Strike responded.
“There’s definitely something else in there, though,” Vital noted. “The magic broadcasting from that mountain is powerful, though it doesn’t feel threatening.”
“Their gods?” Grif asked.
“No, I don’t think so. If a god doesn’t want to be found that way, it won’t be. Otherwise, I would’ve pinpointed Gaia a long time ago. This is something different, a single signal, not three. It is possible that it could be an artifact from a god, though, I suppose,” the Unicorn mused.
“Well, I suppose we should light this candle sooner, rather than later, then,” Grif said.
“Um, Sirs,” a young Zebra mare said somewhat hesitantly as she approached. “Lady Fjüra has requested an audience.” She cleared her throat. “She won’t take no for an answer.”
“Very well,” Grif nodded. “Bring her over.”
Fjüra was swift to join them, moving too quickly, even for her guards, in her haste to reach the trio. “When do you intend to attack the city?” she asked almost curtly. Her usual calm demeanor had been cast aside in favor of urgency.
Grif looked to Hammer Strike “How long?”
“Within the next hour.”
Fjüra shook her head vigorously. “You must hold off, at least for three more days.”
“And why is that, exactly?”
“Our proximity to the mountain has allowed me to communicate with my fellow Makers. My sisters in the city are preparing to aid us from within, including removing your friend from danger. Mtaala, the wisest and eldest of our number, has broken the ancient seal. They intend to wake the gods, in order to overthrow Disiungitur, and they are arming the protectors and themselves for the battle to come.”
“And how long before he attacks us, while we wait?” Grif asked.
“I do not know, but there is also a plan in motion involving someone called Peacemaker. They wish to give this ally enough time to arrive as well, and have utilized an ancient artifact to call to him or her. It is spoken of in our oldest tales and songs. We call it the first flame.”
“Three days?”
She nodded. “No more,” she assured him. “It is the safest way to ensure his protection and to secure properly equipped allies from within.” She frowned then. “There were some … complications, however, in your friend’s care.”
“What kind of complications?” Vital asked, even as he eyed Grif’s talons digging into the turf and Hammer Strike’s face becoming a mask of forced calm.
“His wing was broken by his keepers on orders from Disiungitur, and then his feathers were plucked. His paranoia over the more … unique aspects of your peoples’ magic left him wishing to give certain … chastisement, after your friend chose not to heed his warning. I fear that, if he is not taken to safety, it will be too easy for your friend to be killed. The air will not be his sanctuary for some time yet.”
“Well, that changes things significantly,” Grif commented, cracking his neck.
“You’re not thinking of charging in there right now, are you, Grif?” Vital asked worriedly.
“No, three days will give me time to think of the more painful ways to kill this Disiungitur,” Grif said darkly as his eyes swirled into a midnight blue. One could almost hear the roar of the dark gale whispering at his ears.
Vital Spark was silent for a time. Then he looked up with determination in his eyes mixed with a pang of guilt. “I’ll keep any guards from interfering,” he promised. “And if anyone else tries to hurt him….” A light frost coated the fronds of grass by the Unicorn’s hooves. “I won’t let them. You guys have been through enough, because of me, already.”
“Don’t take all the credit,” Grif commented.
“Shouldn’t I, though?”
The punch was so fast, it might as well have been instantaneous. One minute, the words where leaving Vital Spark’s mouth, the next, he was on the ground with an aching jaw. “Stop being so damn selfish. The world doesn’t revolve around you, Vital Spark. We all hold responsibility in this. Pensword as well. In fact, him most of all. He had instructions and he deviated from them. Now in three days, either through violence or diplomacy, we are going to free Pensword.” Grif looked down at vital. “And then I’m gonna kill him.”
Vital rubbed his jaw as he got to his hooves again. “Pensword or Disiungitur?”
“Yes,” Grif said, before walking away.
“I think I’ll just cut my losses and leave you to yourself,” Vital said judiciously to Hammer Strike.
“Wise decision.”
Pensword jerked awake, though he wasn’t quite certain as to why. His senses were on high alert, yet nothing seemed out of place. The moon shone brightly through his windows, and a small blue bird that had been his constant companion the last few nights trilled softly from its place on the ledge. Suddenly, the trilling broke off, and Pensword heard a muffled grunt of pain, followed by a shallow groan and the sound of armor scraping against the wall.
Fully alert now, the Pegasus rolled out of bed and crept to a far corner, where the shadows would provide him with shelter and the element of surprise. He braced himself and reached out with his field to touch the three grains of thaumic crystal he had formed along the crevices of his artwork etched in ink around the door frame. If the bulls were coming to kill him, then at least he could make sure to take out a few, maybe even open an avenue of escape, however brief.
The door grated open slowly, and a dim silver light shone from the slit of a cleverly configured lantern, concentrating the beam to pierce the dark, until it fell upon him. It was a light Pensword recognized well. But a moonstone? Here?
“Pensword.” The word was raspy, guttural, and slow, but … could it really…? “Pensword.” There it was again. The voice was deep, but definitely feminine. A hoof-tipped hand reached out and gestured toward the door. “Pensword,” she whispered, more urgently this time.
Pensword could tell that was most likely the only word this stranger could speak in his language. The bird tilted its head inquiringly, but it did that with most any visitor, so he didn’t know whether this boded well or not, and he didn’t know whether the wildlife here had the same level of sentience as the animals back in Equestria. That being said, the cow said his name. He had never given it to anyone, not once, in the entirety of his captivity. The fact that she knew it, and spoke it in Equish, could only mean one thing.
He rose out of his crouch and felt his companion alight on his back as he strode cautiously towards the main room. The moonlight from the lantern gave him enough light to adjust to the darkness of his dwelling. She waved urgently under the cover of her cowl, a great sheet of dark cloth that obscured most of her body, save for a rectangular slit at its top for her eyes to see out of. He took a few brief moments to dismiss the crystals and return the aspects to the environment around them. Then he turned to follow the cow. As they emerged, two burly Minotaurs in leather armor and dark padded clothing had just finished dashing a pale liquid over the guards’ muzzles and chests. The vessels and the remainder of their liquid were then planted next to each guard, with a wet patch carefully poured next to them to signify the sloshing of the liquid, after it fell from inebriated hands. Their work complete, the two warriors rose and approached silently on hooves covered in bundles of cloth to avoid leaving any prints or impressions.
The cow raised a finger to her veil, then motioned for the warrior to follow, while the two warriors took up positions in front and behind the procession.
Pensword looked on in confusion as he followed, a little worried about his own hooves leaving a trail, not to mention the sounds he generated, when he struck stone. Fortunately, the big bull in the back took care of the former concern. The latter, well, he supposed the trio must have a plan.
The journey was slow and long. They passed through narrow streets and vaulted alleys. Once, they took shelter beneath the bow of a massive bridge overhead. The heavy clopping of hooves and the clank of steel left the warrior’s heart racing. They waited. He held his breath. Finally, the patrol finished their passage and pressed on. Even as the warrior followed his escort, his ears swivelled in search of other possible threats. He was rewarded with the rhythmic tromping of an ordered march, the cocking of gears as ballistae were primed and loaded, their functionality tested. The smoke of many a fire drifted on the wind to his nostrils, alongside the acrid scent of pitch and naptha. This city wasn’t just being cautious. They were preparing for battle.
Based on experience, the Pony could tell it wasn’t just mobilization to march. Naptha and pitch were generally reserved for one tactic only, and that was to coat and burn an invasive force. So, a siege, then. That meant the others had finally come. A smile pulled at his lips. They were all right, and they were here. That must have meant they’d found Vital Spark. Good. He’d finally have someone he could actually talk to, without having to worry about being attacked.
They finally came to a large well. The warriors removed a grappling hook from the pack and attached it firmly to the edge of the opening. The cow motioned to the well, then curled her arm and pointed to the gap, followed by pantomiming the action of carrying.
Pensword gulped as he stepped forward. He didn’t like the idea, but he didn’t have much choice. He looked to the bird on his back and shrugged. Might as well try. “I don’t know if you understand me or not,” he whispered to the avian, “but if you do, you need to go. Find the black Gryphon, the great hunter. Tell him I’m all right. He should be somewhere outside the city’s walls.”
The bird stayed on his back for a time, and Pensword sighed dejectedly. Maybe it couldn’t understand, after all. Finally, the creature hopped off and ascended to a nearby window ledge. It paused there for a time, looking back down at the four, then flew off. “I just hope they can forgive me for saving a foal’s life,” he whispered to himself under his breath, then approached the cow.
Like the rest of her race, the cow proved exceptionally strong as she held Pensword in the crook of her arm. She eased her way over the edge with the help of her guards, then gradually eased her way down, the rope sliding easily over the keratin of her fingertips in a controlled descent. When they reached the bottom, she released Pensword. The water was chilly, so Pensword began to swim to the edge of the pool. Once again, his bandages were soaked, but at least this time it was his own choice. It didn’t take long for one of the warriors to join them. A few shakes of the rope later, and the tendril rose swiftly back to the top, before the light was completely cut off by the replacement of the well’s cover.
A few seconds later, silver light emanated once again, filling the pool and revealing the way to the water’s edge, where a worn path lay, lined by a series of stalagmites linked by rock to form a sort of guard rail. When all three had escaped the pool, the cow took the lead, guiding them through the caverns to only gods knew where. He just hoped it wasn’t another cell.
The midday sun blazed overhead as wave after wave of unrelenting heat rose up from the grasslands, distorting the air before them. Vital Spark may or may not have used his magic to create enough moisture over the ground to exacerbate the effect, followed by an illusion cantrip to obscure their advance.
“This won’t trick them forever,” Vital Spark warned in a low whisper to his friends as they crept closer to their target. “The sooner we can neutralize their advantage, the better.”
“Once Hammer Strike makes a hole in the labyrinth, it won’t matter if they notice or not,” Grif noted.
“Yes, but by that point, we’ll have neutralized said advantage. By the way, Grif, be careful in there. My wards may be strong enough to shield you from a few hits, but I doubt they’ll take a full ballista.”
They finally reached the edge of the wall, just a few yards away from the gate. Vital grit his teeth as beads of sweat dripped down his forehead and his neck tensed, as if he were bearing a great weight. “Hammer Strike, I’m having to rely completely on illusion now, and I’m not sure how much longer I can hold it. If you could take care of that knocking you mentioned, I’d really appreciate it.”
Hammer Strike sighed to himself as thaumic fire covered his hooves. He reached his hoof forward to touch the wall ahead of him, letting the fire separate from him to form a large square. Then he removed his coat and placed it off to the side, rolling his shoulders as he adjusted. Once the square had fully formed, he reared his hoof back and, with as much force as he could muster, thrust forward. The wall was consumed with the fire, and then the flames burst back, hitting the next wall behind it, and so on. As the flash faded, a large square opening laid before them stretching back through every wall in front of them as thaumic fire burned along the edges to create a literal passage of flame.
The army gaped. The Minotaurs balked. And like a living thing writhing in agony, the various walls of the maze that divided the outer wall from the city shifted and lashed, ramming back and forth in a vain attempt to close off the passage, only to disintegrate as they touched the tunnel.
“Holy impenetrable flames, Batman,” Vital exclaimed as he watched the display. His horn flickered, and then the light faded entirely as his illusion dropped to reveal their forces.
“So much for unstoppable defenses,” Grif chuckled, then charged, belting at the top of his lungs. “LEROY!”
“Charge!” Vital roared in Zwahili as he followed his friend. “And whatever you do, don’t touch the flames!”
The forces stampeded en mass, the thunder of their hooves shaking the very earth as they ran past. The mysterious barrier continued to hold, and not even the enemy’s heaviest rocks or fastest bolts could pierce the passage. All were consumed.
Hammer Strike stared forward, ensuring the fires held stable. His frown deepened. His coat lay folded neatly off to his side, on a decent sized stone surrounded by a dome of his field. In the coat’s stead, Derflinger lay across his back. “I’m done playing nice,” he muttered to himself as he began his descent into the labyrinth.
True to any slave nation, the Minotaurs sent a horde of their goats to try to slow the army’s advance and give the bulls enough time to coordinate. It was a simple thing to neutralize the threat. One look at Grif left the creatures trembling violently. A roar sent them running back through the alleys, taking whatever path would get them as far away from the predator as possible. The warriors kept close enough to the towers to prevent any feasible attacks from the ballistae, and ran in an orderly fashion, striking passing blows to Minotaur bulls as they followed the paths Fjüra had drawn for them in their war council.
“All right,” Vital said grimly to himself as he pulled out Mustafa’s staff and promptly froze the Minotaur warriors’ feet in a block of ice. “Let’s party.”
Grif had breached the wall well before the others, and was already cleaving bloody murder through the Minotaur ranks. Bodies and body parts scattered around him as he fought in full fury, ignoring most wounds that were acted upon him in his berserker rage.
Blood sprayed and burned away to nothing just as quickly as Hammer Strike mowed through the ranks of warriors. One punch would burst thousands of blood vessels as he smashed rib cages and quite literally drove skeletons out of their bodies. Disembodied heads would soar into the air to be lost in specks of light as they passed into the stratosphere. For the first time in a very long time, Hammer Strike was finally letting go of his limits.
And for the first time, perhaps ever in their history, the Minotaurs felt just how futile their battle really was. Limbs shook. Jaws clenched. And still they kept coming. Still, they continued to fight, because unlike before, this was their pride, their home, their sacred place. Here, they had to stand, or else they would lose all.
Limbs froze. Blood rained. Souls burned. And the three leaders of the invasion continued their grisly work.
Disiungitur looked on in utter bewilderment, fresh blood still dripping from his hammer as he returned to gaping at the great maze. In one surge of power, the Zebras had somehow managed to not only breach their first defense, but permanently damage it. A power of that magnitude, the power to destroy so completely, could only belong to a god. Where had the pathetic four-legs managed to find one? How had they gotten it to agree to assist them? He snorted and growled angrily as he turned back towards the great rack on the other end of the hall. A set of gleaming black pauldrons and a matching loin cloth with the insignia of war sewn into the fabric lay in wait for him to don and lead his warriors.
Yes. His warriors. Warriors that needed strength, a firm hand, a proper stud. And he had given them all they could want and more. He embodied the ideal leader. He was the ideal leader. His decisions were without fault, his actions without remorse. His right was won by conquest, and thus sanctioned by the three great ones. And even if it weren’t, he would still rule. It was his right. It was his destiny. He looked down and casually kicked the heads of the guards that had dared to commit the sin of seeing the one fragment of weakness surprise had shocked out of him. He would not allow them the ability to spread the slander of weakness to his herd.
They would not be divided. He would not allow it.
The great bull strode forward to the rack and donned his armor, heedless of how the pooling blood from the bodies below stained the tips of the fabric on his loincloth a horrible crusty brown. Rather, he crouched low and dipped his fingers into that pool of blood and ran them through his fur on his cheeks and down his arms in intricate patterns and sigils that wormed their way from the edge of his memory, from that dark place, the place where he felt….
The great bull’s eyes widened, and he bellowed angrily to drive the thought away. “I am strong. I am their leader. I AM DISIUNGITUR!”
His declaration was answered by a defiant shriek, like that of a great eagle.
The bull’s blood raced. A twitch pulled at the corners of his mouth. A call to combat. A call to challenge. The twitch soon pulled into a manic grin as a deep chortle soon grew to a chuckle, and then to a full-throated laugh. The sky dwellers had come to play. He clung to his great hammer as he strode out, trailing blood on his hooves. He couldn’t wait to meet the upstarts.
Pensword sat back and watched as the Minotaur cows continued to trot back and forth between forge room and workstations. The many tiers of the amphitheater were filled with a flurry of activity as skilled hands guided the next generation on the finer points of crafting leather or engraving metal. The elder cows ran between the great iron gate leading to the forge and another entryway leading into the depths of the mountain. A curious stone structure lay at the bottom of the amphitheater, looking much like the old stone pedestals he had observed in the Emperor’s garden, back in Neighpon. However, the flame that was meant to burn there appeared to be missing. Perhaps they only used it during formal meetings?
In due course, one of the warriors that guarded the chamber approached with a cow, who crouched down and pointed inquiringly at the Pegasus’ wings. Pensword nodded his ascent as the cow crouched low with her medicine bag. It didn’t take long for her to remove the bandages they had been using. She probed the wing gently, feeling for the knobby point in his flesh. When she found it, she pulled out a series of herbs, which she ground in a mortar and pestle, before adding a bit of water to create a paste. She traced it over the spot, then used another set of herbs to form a new poultice, which she spread over the rest of Pensword’s wings with a clinical precision, being careful to maneuver it under and around the points where the Pegasus had begun to grow his feathers back. The aching from the bone dulled with the topical application, and Pensword signed his relief.
The commander watched idly as one of the cows strode into the forge to emerge moments later, girt in steel. The breastplate cupped under her endowments to offer proper support, while the remainder encircled her torso in separate parts to ensure ease of movement. A skirt of chain male obscured her legs, but allowed for greater ease of movement as she strode forward with a great club engraved with intricate pictures and runes. The bull who accompanied Pensword’s nurse looked on with obvious concern at the sight, and Pensword instantly felt a connection to this warrior. After all, had he not felt that selfsame worry, whenever his wives had to enter combat? Perhaps there was hope for these people, after all. At the very least, Pensword resolved he would make sure only to hold those responsible for his capture and mistreatment accountable. It was the least he could do, after what these guards and their holy cows, at least he assumed they were holy cows, judging by their raiment, had risked in liberating him.
Mtaala strode into the great cavern deep beneath the sacred peaks. Far above the chamber, a thin column of light shone down, refracted by a series of cleverly grown crystal formations through a shaft that absorbed the light in a great formation atop the peaks of the range. A series of cleverly laid panels sat in the center, surrounding the crystal that lay at the bottom of that shaft of light. Ropes attached to their tops on a pulley system, waiting to release the light from its confinement. Around the edges of the cavern, the other leaders among the cows lay in wait with their guards manning the ropes. A normal Minotaur would have to bellow to be heard, and the echoes of the cavern would distort their replies. Fortunately, the priestesses had a better way.
“Are we all prepared?” Mtaala whispered her thought through the ground. Even the art of the unspoken was dangerous to use here, but it was a necessary risk.
“The Angus stand ready to end the long sleep,” a deep, smooth contralto whispered assertively.
“The Highland Heifers are raring’ to go,” a higher-pitched voice whispered in the curious brogue of the tribe from the mountains.
“The Shorthorns are prepared,” a softer-toned voice whispered meekly.
“In the stead of Mistress Fjüra, I will execute the duty for the Longhorns,” came the firm reply.
“The Blue Oxen are ready to proceed.”
When the remaining confirmations had ghosted their way back through the earth, Mtaala nodded gravely. “Then let it begin. Bring forth the light of the end.” She looked to her guard and nodded. The guard, in turn, strode to the rope and began to pull. In due course, the panels that had enclosed the crystal formation rose higher and higher, until light blazed out in carefully controlled points, based on the placement of the facets in the crystal. Light jumped and zigzagged from crystal to crystal, weaving, until the cavern was filled with the illumination, forming a great upside down horseshoe.
Mtaala braced herself, taking a deep breath. In all the long centuries, it had been the solemn duty of the cows to act as caretakers to their keepers. They would sing the songs of sleep and dreams, the prayers of hope, love, gratitude, and thanks. But with the passing of each generation, one song was held most sacred above all, always to be remembered, never to be invoked. So vital was the importance of this ritual that the makers had crafted a room specifically designed to absorb and conceal all sound within, so the power would not fall into the wrong hands. She had stood in that room sixty years ago to receive that great honor and burden that was associated with her office as the successor to the elder. And now, it was her solemn duty to let that hymn be heard.
Then, for the first time in centuries, Mtaala’s voice carried into the cavern. “Old ones, Teachers, Bearers of the Hundred Hands, I beg your forgiveness, but you are needed.” And then she raised her head and loosed that gentle lowing that had echoed through the caves and into the plains beyond.
Soon one voice became two, two became four, and four became many. There was no stopping it now. The waking had begun.
Grif let out another loud crow of defiance as he stuck a stiletto in either side of a Minotaur’s neck and twisted savagely, only stopping to withdraw the daggers, before hopping to the next target and repeating the process. The battle had been going surprisingly well, at least for Grif, who had been given a wide berth by Zebras and Longhorns alike, when they saw the pile of bodies in his vicinity.
Vital Spark proved surprisingly effective. What cuts he managed to land on his opponents either caused intense pain, thanks to the sonic enhancements, or spread a creeping frost that killed the flesh almost instantly as it advanced. Since he didn’t know how many warriors they would have to battle, he did his best to conserve his magic reserves, saving his more powerful spells for if he were cornered by too many foes at once. His staff and hunga munga twirled together as they circled one another in his magic, giving off that frigid aura. Vital Spark grinned. “Come at me, bros,” he said, then pressed the attack, flanked by his fellow Zebras.
Hammer Strike growled to himself as he passed yet another house. He could sense the civilians within, and quickly acted to put his power in check again. He wanted to keep loose, but he knew better. To unleash such devastation would only harm more innocent lives. That would not do. So, he settled with just punching really, really hard. Surprisingly enough, despite painting the rest of the town red, the Earth Pony was relatively clean of blood. That proved especially strange, given the fact he was currently facing down his opponents in a particularly narrow pathway.
Disiungitur laughed as he mowed through the enemy troops. His great arms swung tirelessly as the spikes on his hammer impaled, then decapitated the heads of the Zebras that sought his end. It was a simple matter to deflect the spears and arrows they sent his way. This was happiness. This was his home. This was a slaughter, and he loved every minute of it. The cries of the sky dweller had grown closer, but not nearly enough. He sneered. Perhaps a few more offerings would bring it closer. Its kind always did like fresh meat, and there was such a plenteous supply handy. He dug into another body, flinging it back and over his head as he raised for another swing, trailing blood behind it. Yes, a few more, and he would be able to face the warrior. And then he was going to kill it. He could hardly wait.
Something flew past his head and left a line of searing pain across his cheek. At the very edge of his vision he saw the sky dweller make momentary eye contact, before carrying on his own mass slaughter.
Disiungitur sneered. The creature had managed to wound him. That was no small feat. His heart hammered like a drum in his ears. At last, a worthy opponent. But now was not the time to face him. No, not yet. Both had their own battles to fight first, an appetizer for the events to come.
While heated battle raged above, seven forces at rest began to stir. The vibration of the bovines’ voices carried through the rocks to where the entities lay.
“And so, it begins,” Amethyst said calmly as her spirit pulsed in time to the ancient invocation.
“You don’t think big brothers will be too upset with us, do you?” Ruby asked.
“Prudence dictates they allow us a chance to explain,” Topaz began. “Then again, prudence is hardly the choice they take, when something precious to them is in danger.”
“We, for one–”
“–Think they’ll do the right thing–”
“–And let us explain,” the Emeralds said.
“Regardless, we’d best be ready to meet them,” Sapphire noted. A low tremor shook the ground. “I’ve been waiting to stretch my legs again for far too long, anyway.”
“Best to rest a little longer, Sapphire,” Opal warned. “We’ll need to time our rise to the very moment our brothers wake. Too soon will imply we ordered our children to attack and let them through. Too late, and our brothers will be unruly, drunk with rage, after waking from the long sleep, only to find their children at war. Only in unity will we find the path to negotiate a proper peace.”
Topaz chuckled. “You were waxing almost eloquent there, Opal. Are you sure you didn’t take some classes from Prometheus, before hibernation?”
“I will neither confirm nor deny that statement,” Opal said, completely nonplussed, though a hint of mischief played in her voice. “Leave that for the future.”
The rumbling grew louder, the tremors more intense.
“How soon, until the mortals feel the effects?” Topaz asked somewhat clinically.
“I would imagine the shocks should reach the upper layers of the crust within the next few minutes, at this rate,” Amethyst guessed. “Gyes always was a light sleeper.”
“Is his strength really that awful?” Ruby asked.
“I once saw him smash an entire mountain to powder, just because he stubbed his toe on its base,” Amethyst said solemnly.
Ruby chuckled nervously.
“It will be good to craft with Briareus again, though,” Sapphire noted. “He really does think more clearly, when his hands are busy.”
“And Cottus?” Amethyst asked. “Has anyone thought how to deal with him?”
The seven siblings were silent. None of them knew how to deal with The Furious.
Dust and rubble fell in equal measure from the cavern as the cows’ hymn stirred in the three hundred ears of their three great gods. The sounds of various groans and rumbles punctuated the lowing, while the ground beneath began to churn and shake. The earth heaved with the stirring of the sleepers.
“Whatever you do, do not stop,” Mtaala’s voice called through the churning rocks, though it was barely audible over the roar of the old gods’ stirring. “The moment the hymn is complete, flee this chamber!”
The temperature within the cavern had begun to rise, even as the crystal gem that was the source of the omega symbol’s light began to glow a rosy pink, and then an angry red. The rocks soon followed suit as the acrid scent of sulfur began to rise with the cracks breaking in the floor. Great gouts of steam surged intermittently, leaking the gases that now churned beneath the rock of the chamber.
And then came the quickening. The hymn changed from a song of longing and gentle nudging to a call of urgency. The tempo picked up as the cows sang in harmony, followed by a drastic dissonance that highlighted the dangers their race now faced. And then came the glow as magma flowed through the cracks to cast its heat and light throughout the chamber. The crystal and its mirrors melted, while the cows belted out three powerful dissonant chords.
Mtaala turned to her companion. “Drop the rope. This chamber has served its purpose. It’s time to run,” she ordered. “We’ll seal the path behind us.”
The guard nodded his understanding, letting the rope and its panel drop into the sea of lava that was rapidly rising.
“Come on!” she bellowed, even as the acrid smoke rose up the shaft towards daylight and the first flame. Prophecy had come to pass. Fire had called to its like. The gods would wake at last.
Out on the field of battle, the city trembled and shook under wave upon wave emanating from the mountain. Dark smoke rose from the peaks above, coloring the skies a sooty gray as an ominous rumble echoed down its passes to roll across the city. A single light pierced the veil of smog that was rapidly forming over the peak. It pulsed and strobed, like a lighthouse beacon, while the warriors fought and shed blood below.
A hand, a massive ashen grey hand, crashed down, clearing the rubble and dust in the air in one single blast of air pressure that knocked almost everyone back. As the air cleared, it revealed the arm attached to the hand. As more arm was revealed, so were dozens of smaller arms branching off from the mountainous wrist and arm, only to branch out into their own hands. Some were thick and rugged. Others were small and willowy. But all moved in chaotic waves and motions. With a groan of effort that caused several cracks in the ground around the hand, the creature attached to it pushed, and a massive figure stood, nearly as tall as the mountain that had covered it, though not quite as wide. The figure was a massive muscular torso that,at first sight, seemed to lack any sort of head. That is, until the casual observer could make out the fifty writhing heads, each attached to a neck growing from the chest. Fifty voices moaned and groaned, as if awakening from a great sleep. Seconds later, a second figure stood from the rubble, and then a third. Each giant stretched their great and terrifying extremities as they observed the world around them, while the remains of the mountain struggled to remain upright.
“So, wehavebeensummoned, my brothers!” Fifty voices spoke as one, a mixture of male and female, soprano and bass and everything between.
“But to whatend?” a second cacophony of voices echoed, booming over the great city as the larger of the three flexed his great muscles, tensing his many hands as he yawned. “We all agreed it wasbetter to sleep to mourn our family’spassing.”
“Perhaps theworldisending,” the third group of voices suggested, “andwehavebeencalled to fight.”
“Brother!Calmyourrage!” the first group spoke up.
“Calm? When thecityisclearlybeingattacked,Briareus?” the third asked incredulously. “I thinknot. I demandtoknowourchildren’sattackers,soI maywipetheirnation clean fromMother’sback!”
“Supposethatourchildren may beledastray,andwehavebeencalledfor a culling?Wouldyoube soeagerfortheirownblood,Cottus?” the first asked his brother.
“Thentheywillfacetheconsequencesforgoingastray,and we willteachthemcontrol anew,” Cottus said. “I amfurious,not foolish,” he growled.
“Good.I wouldhateto haveto restrainyou,brother,” the second said.
Cottus’ faces all smirked. “You arewelcometo try,Gyes.”
“Perhaps it would be best to focus, instead, on the joy of a reunion and the meeting of minds,” a vibrant feminine voice rang through the air as the ground rumbled again. “We have all slept for too long, and it seems a reckoning is in order.”
The ground shook again as seven great hands thrust out of the earth, dropping even the heartiest of warriors off their hooves. Amethyst was a gorgeous woman, with her raven hair tied in intricate braids above her head. Her skin was smooth as glass and shone with the gloss of polished stone. A piece of green earth formed the top of her ensemble, while a flowing skirt of the yellow longrasses from the savannah hid her legs.
The Emerald twins were perfect mirrors to one another, each grinning at the three gods with a glee that only fond memories could bring. Their faces were rounded along the edges, their hair a short mixture of hard packed brown earth mixed with veins of their namesake. They were bare-chested, exposing the perfectly toned muscle that lay beneath as their yellow eyes flickered mischievously.
“You’ve been sleeping for ages.”
“We wondered if we’d have to drag you out of that mountain ourselves,” they greeted.
Topaz shook his head as he rolled his eyes. A set of carefully molded spectacles rose up on the bridge of his nose as he peered through them to observe the trio. Rather than a skirt or basic cloth, he was garbed in a flowing earthen robe. Instead of the green of plantlife his sister wore, his was studded with a variety of stones, like granite and basalt to give the impression of intricate needlework. “It seems the more things change, the more they stay the same. Must you always leap to conclusions, brother?”
Sapphire’s bowl-style haircut reached down to her shoulders as she smiled peacefully at the trio. She sparkled in the sun’s light, casting a shade of blue over the planes below. Her sundress fluttered and rustled, like flowing water, in a sparkling white. Rings of silty brown sat on each of her fingers.
Ruby was, by far, one of the smallest. The titan wore a set of shorts and a neutral brown clay shirt. Ruby’s hair remained at a comfortable length with a neutral cut that would work equally for either a boy or girl. Ruby waved somewhat nervously from behind Sapphire’s back.
Lastly, Opal hovered in the air, shining like a rainbow. Her legs were folded peacefully, and her white hair cascaded down her shoulder in a carefully bound braid run through with bands of multicolored stone. A pale white patch sat over her forehead in a perfect circle as she opened her eyes to behold her siblings. “It would seem you chose the better course. Good. I would rather not lose any of my siblings today,” she said simply as her eyes shifted milkily through the color spectrum.
“Will someoneexplainwhatis going on here?” Gyes asked as he flexed his mighty limbs. “PreferablybeforeCottusgoeson a rampage?”
“To put it simply, one of your children saw fit to take advantage of a moment of weakness for ourselves and Mother, and broke their way through the wall we set to divide our children from yours, until time could hopefully heal the wound that marred their peace,” Amethyst said. “War was the inevitable result.”
Cottus huffed. “Only thestrongshouldsucceed, then,” he said haughtily.
“Prometheusis notwith you?” Briareus asked.
“We only woke recently, ourselves,” Topaz explained. “We haven’t the foggiest where he might be.” He shrugged.
“Pity.For it seemswe areat an impasse.Had we wokenbefore this warstarted, we couldhave settledthis between ourselves,but nowneither sidecan relentwithout losing honor.” The hecatonchires shook his many heads. “That would not do.”
“We did agree to allow them to make their choices, when such conflicts arise,” Amethyst agreed. Then she sighed. “It is one reason why we allowed them to pass, but did not intervene directly.”
“Still, I senseoutsiders seededamongst your children,and an … aberrationwithin ours,” Briareus said.
Cottus chuckled ruthlessly as he flexed his many arms. “Does that meanI can actuallytear somethingapart?”
“You knowit would beunfair, brother,” Gyes chided. “And weagreed wewouldn’t allowourselves to fighttheir battles,lest we rouse Mother.”
“Oh? Sowe have towatch asthese anomaliesmeddle with our affairs?It isn’t right.”
“He has a point,” Gyes noted. His eyes narrowed. “There is power.It sleeps,but the potential is there. It is notunlikethe force youimbued withinyour first creations,brother.”
Briareus turned to the wreck of the mountain and reached in. With a mighty pull, he withdrew a large object with a handle longer than the tallest tree and a head that was large as the foothills of the mountains that Canterlot sat upon. It was the biggest forging hammer Hammer Strike had ever laid eyes on. It pulsed with primal residue as the symbols of the Greek pantheon ran across its surface, glowing in colors respective of the god the symbol attached to. The deity began to break pieces of the mountain off and sort through them, removing handfuls of ore and dropping them beside Labyrinthian.
Gyes’ eyes widened, and his mouths gasped in unison as he lunged for the mountain, swiftly plunging his great hands near the base. Carefully, gently, he clawed and pulled at the stones, until he finally found that which he sought. He sighed in relief as he pulled out a great stone cube without seam or crack. He smiled then. “Clever girls,” he chuckled as he took the cube to the far end of the city, where Minotaurs and Zebras alike gaped up at the behemoths. He lowered the cube, then tapped it three times with one massive finger. The stones blew out in every direction, leaving the precious cargo intact as the many cows, their guards, and one solitary Pegasus looked up in wonder at the massive entity. Then, having dealt with quite enough for one day, the Pegasus let out a light bleat, flipped onto his back, and promptly fainted.
Having amassed a great mound of ores, Briareus turned from the rest of the rubble and began to work, his labor unseen by his siblings. The massive clang of his hammer roared across the land.
Down on the ground, a white light flickered and shone brightly, cradled in the hands of one of the cows. That light gradually became brighter, until the mortals had to look away. In a matter of moments, that light shot into the sky, trailing a stream of energy behind, before blazing with a light as bright as the sun.
“Well, would you look at that?” Sapphire said. “Very pretty.”
Opal smiled. “Big brother will be here soon. There aren’t any eagles around here, are there?” she asked, only for several roasted bird carcasses to suddenly fall from the sky. “... Never mind.”
The light soon stopped near them and rapidly faded, revealing a large man, taller than each of the titans and the hecatoncheires. He wore a toga of fire over his muscular frame and his face was clad in a long beard of flames. Billowing red hair grew down to his shoulders. His eyes were dark, but had a kindly, wise nature to them.
“It seems I am the last to show,” he said with a smile.
“And the flashiest,” the Emeralds said together.
Ruby plowed into the titan, wrapping arms as far around as they could go in a hug. “We missed you, Prometheus.”
Prometheus lifted the young titan. “You have grown so much, since I last saw you.” He chuckled as he swung Ruby around.
“Where’ve you been? It’s been so boring sleeping under the earth.”
“I have had many things to do,” Prometheus said, setting Ruby down. “Now, what seems to be the problem?”
“The children are fighting,” Amethyst sighed in that longsuffering way only a mother or older sister can pull off with any degree of success.
“Andwe haveinterference,” Cottus grumbled.
“And you do not know what to do?” Prometheus more stated than asked.
“Pretty much,” Sapphire said with a shrug. “Wisdom dictates we find a peaceful solution, but that’s usually your field.”
“But I may not always be around,” Prometheus said, “so I want you to suggest a course of action first.”
“Can we skip the banter and get to the important part?” Opal asked. “It’s so frustrating waiting.”
“We need a solution that allows both sides to be satisfied with the outcome, but also one that solves the issue. What are some possibilities?” the elder titan asked patiently.
“Ask them to stop?” Ruby said hopefully.
“Yes, because that worked out so well at the last war,” Topaz said sarcastically.
“Unfortunately, Topaz is right. That solution proved insufficient.” Prometheus nodded. “Anyone else?”
“I knowwhat you will sayto me,so Iwon’t speak,” Cottus growled.
“That’sbecause he knowshow muchyou loveto fight, brother.” Gyes chuckled as he smacked his brother companionably along his back. “After thisis settled,how about youand I finda nice openplace to wrestle?That shouldhelp youto feel better.”
Cottus grumbled, but didn’t refuse.
“We could always bind them,” Topaz noted clinically. “I believe the Faeries called the enchantment a geas.”
“That is what Zeus would do,” Prometheus said in a slightly angry tone. “It is valid, but only for a time. And should it break, then both races would surely be angry with us.”
“Surely, you aren’t suggesting what I think you’re suggesting,” Sapphire finally said. “That particular ritual hasn’t been invoked since Zeus banished the elder gods.”
“Trial by combat,” Briareus spoke up finally. “Two warriors fightto the death.The winnerdecides the fateof this war,” he said as he stood up.
“Um, excuse me, but isn’t the technical term Mortal Kombat?”
The gathered deities looked down below, where a white Unicorn peered questioningly at them. A gnarled staff lay in the crook of his foreleg as he stared.
“... Yes, but we found that whenever we’ve said that phrase, one of our children has always felt compelled to shout it out at the top of his or her lungs,” Amethyst explained.
“Oh. My bad. Carry on.”
Ignoring the interruption, Briareus stepped away, allowing them to see what he had been working on. A massive colosseum half as large as the city itself lay off to the side, practically adjoining the capital itself. The inner fighter’s arena was caged and then surrounded by long stands for an audience to spectate. Great bronze statues dotted the sides, each in the form of a titan, and three gold statues stood in the form of each of the three hecatoncheires.
“Well, that wasn’tvery sporting,brother,” Gyes complained. “You couldhave at leastinvited usto help.”
“I rememberyour attemptat thehelm of darkness,” his brother laughed. “I decidedbetter for it.”
“It wasn’tthatbad,” Gyes winced. “I justmade ita little too … intimidating.”
“Does thissolution workfor everyone?” Briareus asked the other assembled deities.
“Very good, brother,” Prometheus praised. “With this solution, both sides may save face, and the situation can be solved with minimal loss of life.”
“Then it’s agreed,” Amethyst said. “Each of our children will choose a champion to represent them in armed combat. Whoever wins shall claim victory for their side.”
Disiungitur bellowed his outrage. “How is that honorable? How is that just, when they attacked our delegation and cut off the sacred spring?”
“That was not the doing of our children,” Opal explained placidly. “It was an event brought about by displaced spirits of the air cast out from a foreign land. They were bound in contract to protect the waters, and they abused that contract to foment rage and violence. The moment you came to the Stampede Grounds was the moment their power became strong enough to harm the land. Your anger, your rage, and your lust for battle fed them. Were it not for the instruction we left with our children, all would have perished, and you would have been the cause.”
“Lies!” Disiungitur roared.
Many of the males flinched back at his defiance. Here he was, challenging deity, those who had been acknowledged by their own gods to be siblings.
“Then perhaps you would be willing to believe someone who isn’t a Zebra,” Vital Spark said as he stepped forward with Hammer Strike and Grif on either side of him. “The spirits are called Windigos. My friend Hammer Strike aided in the fight against them, when they sought to freeze my homeland and all its residents. Were it not for him and a few desperate Ponies, they would have succeeded. They were about to do the same thing to the savannah and Stampede Grounds, when I encountered and exposed them. I exorcised them with the aid of a more powerful entity.”
Disiungitur narrowed his gaze and lowered his head as he snorted in disgust. “If your story is true, then you are little more than a coward and a weakling, not even worth the effort of speech. You will die, little four-leg, by my hand.” He tensed his hoof-tipped mits as he stared almost hungrily at the equine.
“Big words for a coward,” Grif growled as he stepped between Vital and the Minotaur.
“Wait a minute. You actually understood that?” Vital asked, surprised.
“We deemed it simpler for negotiations,” Amethyst said with a shrug. “One cannot find common ground, if one cannot understand one’s adversary.”
Grif continued, heedless of the explanation as he glared at Disiungitur. “You’ve been out for blood since the beginning. Maybe I can’t speak your language, but I’ve seen more than enough battlefields to know a commander. How many lies did you tell? How many voices did you have whispering in their ears to get this war started? And now a clear solution’s provided, by one of your gods, no less, and you respond with words of cowardice. When reason is spoken to you, you respond with threats.” Grif walked right up to the Minotaur, who was easily over twice his height, and stared defiantly into those oddly familiar blue eyes.
Disiungitur bellowed in rage. His muscles tensed. His teeth ground with effort. His blood vessels looked fit to explode with the force of his exertions. And yet, for all his desire and murderous intent, he could not move.
“Until the decisionis made,there will beno fighting,” Gyes’ voices chorused. “A championmust bechosen bythe four-legs.”
“The decision is already made.” Grif looked up to the titans and hecatoncheires with the same defiance. “I stood at the front of the Zebras. I led them here. By the powers of gods as old as yourselves, I demand my right to combat. I demand the right to satisfaction.” Grif pointed at Disiungitur. “Me and him. Let us fight, and let combat decide which of us is right.”
“And in lieu of the chieftains and elders, who among our children stands?” Topaz asked.
Mkuta, Bayek, and Hekima stepped forward.
“We speak for our people,” Bayek said. “As a warrior, I see no fault with the choice. The winged one has proven himself many times over to be a competent fighter and an ardent supporter of justice.”
“For the shamans and diviners, we have seen his intent and the careful control he exercises over his gifts. The spirits of the air obey him without question, and the spirits of earth hold no qualm with him. If it is his wish to act as champion, we will not deny him,” Mkuta said.
“For the healers and cultivators, while the one known as Grif has waded through oceans of blood, he has also shown great care and concern for those who serve with and under him. To maintain such a level of gentility, after facing such circumstances, implies his heart is at least soft, if not pure. That heart now tells him to act to preserve the justice of both our peoples. I shall not deny him the chance, if he is sincere,” Hekima said.
“Then let the contest proceed,” Amethyst said. “If you would be so kind, brother.” She nodded towards Prometheus, who nodded in turn. All was consumed in the brilliance of radiant fire. Suddenly, the combatants from the war were seated in the arena’s many tiers, gazing down onto the dusty earth, where the Gryphon and head bull now stood together, glaring each other down.
Prometheus looked over the gathering as he stood outside the arena with his siblings, circling around to watch on silently. “The rules of combat are simple,” he began. “The two candidates are to battle to the death. All skills and weapons are considered viable. There are to be no breaks, no interludes, and no retreats. If you seek to flee, then you will be punished for your dishonor, in accordance with the ancient traditions. Are the combatants ready?”
Disiungitur drew his hammer and glared at Grif. “I have been waiting for this for a very long time.”
“Funny. Most people dread their death.” Grif sneered as he withdrew his father’s axe.
“Fight!” Prometheus cried.
Grif heaved his axe, tossing it at the Minotaur with all his strength. The weapon sailed through the air in a lethal arc. Unfortunately, Disiungitur sidestepped at the last minute. The axe continued its course, until it inevitably embedded itself into the cage behind the bull. Disiungitur turned to laugh at the Gryphon’s misjudgement, only for fire to rake across his chest as Grif sunk all four talons in and pulled. Grif didn’t slow down as he mauled his opponent. Finally, Disiungitur was able to recover enough to grab the Gryphon and throw him off. His chest and face burned with the pain of many new cuts as blood seeped and trickled, mingling with his fur. He charged Grif the instant he was free, raising his war hammer to crush his foe into the dirt.
Grif recovered quickly and pulled out two stilettos, which he brought forward in a cross that, much to the surprise of most of the spectators, stopped the hammer’s swing. For a moment, the two struggled against each other, the Gryphon being borne down by the Minotaur’s superior strength. But as blue eyes locked with blue eyes, Disungitur was introduced to a frightening sight. Black bled into the Gryphon’s eyes and gradually encompassed the blue, like oil over water. A cold wind blew around them as Grif threw Disiungitur off with a burst of uncanny strength. Roaring like an angry lion, Grif attacked his opponent, sweeping with his daggers again and again.
For his part, Disiungitur struck out with his hammer and his arms, attempting to ward the Gryphon off. While the spikes landed several times, and he could see blood beginning to stain the frenzied Gryphon’s armor from within, his opponent didn’t stop raining blows upon him. Finally, Grif made enough of a mistake that Disiungitur was able to throw him back by several feet.
“What's wrong, oh mighty Minotaur Chieftain?” Grif’s voice was dual-toned and haunting as he tilted his head from side to side, like a snake preparing to strike. “Where is your great skill?”
Disiungitur didn’t deign the Gryphon with a response. This was a battle to the death, and even though his blood sang at the ferocity of their blows, he knew better than to let his excitement throw off his concentration. This Gryphon was perhaps one of the best of the sky dwellers he had fought in all his years. A hint of a smirk pulled at his lips.
And then the Gryphon sheathed a knife and held out his hand. There was a scraping sound behind Disiungitur, and something impacted his left arm momentarily at the elbow, before the Gryphon’s bloody axe flew back into its master’s hand.
Disiungitur’s arm felt suddenly lighter as something hit the ground with a meaty thump. He glanced down with some surprise to see a powerful muscled forearm laying on the sandy turf atop a rapidly growing pool of blood. Then the pain hit, and Disiungitur roared. The Minotaur’s glare sharpened. The sky dweller had used magic. Weakness. Disiungitur couldn’t stand weakness! Magic. Always with the stupid magic! The world began to fall into red as he trumpeted another bellow, an unthinking rage burning away all reason, all sense, uncaged by the pain and the magic the Gryphon utilized.
“Oh, finally,” Grif taunted. “I was wondering when you were going to stop fooling around. Let’s see what you have.”
Disiungitur charged forward. The wind seemed almost to break against his bulk as the blood continued to flow from his wound. He made as if he were about to land a heavy strike, but when Grif blocked with his knives, the Minotaur followed up with a goring strike from his horns, bellowing curses and expletives all the while. Occasionally, he would spice it up with talk of skywalkers and horned ones. Whenever he mentioned those particular insults, his speed and endurance seemed to jump, though his accuracy suffered under the haze of his towering berserker rage.
The entire time, Grif toyed with his opponent. The bull had speed and endurance, but Grif was faster and more agile, able to duck and dodge with reaction speed that seemed impossible. The whole time, the Gryphon kept his eye on his opponent, looking for any signs of tiring. Disiungitur was losing blood, a lot of it, and far too quickly for it not to take a toll on him soon. The Minotaur’s body would need to slow down eventually, with or without his permission, and that was when Grif would finish this once and for all.
Grif was positively coated in blood, some of it his, a lot of it his opponent’s. The constant thrashing and headbutting had held for an impressive minute, before the Minotaur’s legs began to shake, his knees to buckle. He still raised his good arm to strike, heedless of the danger. He let out another intense bellow as he dealt the overhanded blow. Another spurt of blood spattered out his other arm with the exertion, and suddenly the Bull found himself staring face to face with the Gryphon, his arm trembling against what now felt to be a much stronger force. When did he…?
Grif impaled both stilettos in the Minotaur’s right shoulder and twisted. Under the skin, ligaments and muscle tissue tore. Bone popped, and the Minotaur’s arm fell limp to his side, his hammer clattering to the ground in a puff of arid dust. The Gryphon approached Disiungitur like a specter of death. What once had appeared so small now seemed to tower over Disiungitur as the grim creature approached with his black-rimmed eyes.
“Any last words?” Grif asked.
Disiungitur wanted to speak his defiance, to stand tall and proud, an example to the last. He was strong. He was the greatest member of his race. And yet, despite all of that, he could hardly muster the strength to breathe. His mouth was too heavy to move. “This … can’t…. Not over….” He managed a few more half-hearted sputters as he struggled to articulate his desire to overcome his opponent, that he should be victorious, would be. And yet, he could feel the air rushing past him as blood coagulated over his fur in wet, soggy clumps. He felt … cold. Why was he cold?
Grif placed a hand on either of the Minotaur’s long curved horns and concentrated. Drawing on the momentum aspect, he threw the bovine’s body to the side. The body went flying at speeds far greater than the Gryphon could bring to pass normally. That is, until the force of that momentum met with Grif’s iron grip on Disiungitur’s horns. The body landed, and this time Grif was pulled in a circular motion, taking the bull’s head with him as he sailed over the behemoth’s shoulders and a loud snap echoed through the arena. Then, just as suddenly, he was back over the other shoulder. He’d turned Disiungitur’s head a complete three-hundred-and-sixty degrees.
Although his opponent was already dead, Grif lurched upwards with all the power he had left. The shaggy head broke free of its neck with a meaty tear, pulling parts of the spinal column with it. Grif held it aloft for all to see.
“Fatality,” the gods said decisively. “Zebrica’s champion wins.”
“So, just to clarify here, the original cause of the argument between the Zebras and the Minotaurs, the thing that led to the first great war, and then to this one, was because you each thought you were the family favorite?” Vital asked disbelievingly as he looked first to Mkuta, then back to Fjüra, both of whom managed to look at least somewhat bashful. “And nobody thought to point out how stupid an argument that was? Gaia literally gives to everyone and everything on this world and every other world she’s a part of.”
“Well, when you put it that way, it sounds so … childish,” Mkuta began.
Vital deadpanned. “Mkuta, I love you. I respect you. But the reason that sounds so childish is because it was. Heck, even they all would agree with me.” The Unicorn pointed off to where the various deities sat in conference one with another. Zebras and Minotaurs were engaged in a series of tentative discussions, each speaking in hushed whispers, for fear of rousing the wrath of their gods. The cows kept a close eye on the warriors to ensure no further misunderstandings could come to pass. Meanwhile, Hammer Strike and Grif were both attending to a certain Pegasus who had only recently come back into consciousness.
“It’s good to see you’re alive, Pensword,” Hammer Strike commented with a faint grin.
Pensword grinned. “Conversation. Honest to Faust conversation!” He giggled uncontrollably for the next minute or so. “It’s so good you came. How was the war? Did you burn anything? Did Grif go all hyper speed? Did the foal survive?” So quick was the stream of questions that he started to trip over his own words, before breaking off with a dry cough. He took enough time to breathe and regain his composure. Of course, he still grinned. “These are the first words I’ve uttered that others can understand in months!” He drank lustily from a jug of fresh water that had been offered.
“Besides the wings, what exactly happened to you?”
Pensword remained silent for a time as he ordered his thoughts. “I couldn’t sing. They forced me to do everything, save using the restroom and sleeping, in view of others. It was like I was some zoo animal. They broke one of my wings, and I had nothing to dull the pain or make it set correctly, until the cows stole me out of my cell. I think I’ve had two concussions at minimum. They left papers and ink, at least, so I wrote, a lot. I also did rough sketches on the walls.” He frowned. “Then there was the physical exercises. I tried to keep fit, while I was away, though the broken wing did hamper my progress there, to an extent.”
Hammer Strike stared at him for a few seconds longer. “Anything else?”
“Like?”He looked around and lowered his voice. “I did leave small thaumic crystals the size of peas to try a break out, when you entered the city, but I already took care of them, before I left my cell.” He frowned. “Also, I….” He allowed himself a quick glance at the deities, then broke contact. Clearly, he wasn’t comfortable with the idea of interacting with them, let alone being in their presence. He cleared his throat and did his best to move the conversation forward. How are the foals? The bulls … almost killed a Zebra foal that looked to have been my age when you gifted me Lexington.”
“They’re fine, Pensword.” Hammer Strike rubbed the side of his head. “I was … honestly expecting more.”
“Like? Hammer Strike, what I saw was that if I had lost any favor, they would have crushed me before I could have done anything. They smashed me with a rock half the size of my head. It came so quickly that I didn’t have time to react.” He laughed suddenly. “Did you know you’ve spoken less words total than the days I’ve been held captive? Just hearing Equish is a blessing. Well, that and getting to see your face and Grif’s.” He frowned. “You did find Vital, though, right? That was the whole point of this mission.”
“Yes, we found him shortly after learning that you descended from the skies and engaged in combat, leading to your capture,” Hammer Strike chided.
Pensword nodded slowly. “And in doing so, I saved a foal’s life.” His jaw tightened. “I can live with that choice.”
Grif, who had, for the most part, been in the same position since he’d left the arena, rose and staggered over to Pensword. He stared at the Pegasus for a long moment, before pulling him into a hug. He held him silently for two full minutes, before he released him and proceeded to punch the Pony in the face. “That's for bucking insubordination,” he growled.
Pensword blinked and wrinkled his nose, then crossed his eyes to survey the damage. “You … you told me why you hit me.” He laughed again. “I actually know what I did to get hit!” He grinned and blinked to push the building tears back as he drank in his friend’s face. Then he looked back to Hammer Strike. “I knew you’d come to finish the war, the both of you.” He chuckled. “So, where is Vital?”
“Talking with the gods,” Grif said. “We’ll be leaving as soon as possible.”
“Oh, that’s good.” Pensword smirked. “And somehow, I’m not surprised.”
“You’d better start praying we don’t tell Lunar Fang about this,” Grif said.
Pensword looked at his wings. “Grif, I can’t hide this, and I will tell her, okay?”
Grif sighed and nodded. He looked toward where Vital Spark was supposed to be returning from and waited.
“Though, speaking of my wings, did either of you find my equipment? I remember having armor and wing blades, but I was stripped when I woke up in the cage. Do either of you know where it could have been taken?”
“I haven’t had time to scout the place to locate your equipment,” Hammer Strike replied. “I was somewhat preoccupied.”
Vital Spark walked over to the trio with somewhat wider eyes. “Um, Grif, the gods want to talk with you.”
“That … can be taken many different ways, Vital,” Pensword replied with a nervous twitch of his wings.
“Lets get it done, then.” Grif groaned as he pulled himself to all fours. “I want to go home.”
“Let’s just say they want to give us a proper reward for the parts we played in resolving this situation peacefully, … relatively speaking.” He looked worriedly back at the hecatoncheires, who were currently huddled together in council with Prometheus. “And they already decided on what they want to give me.”
Pensword smiled. “Vital,” he said somewhat chidingly, “it’s good to see you again, too.”
“Did I forget to welcome you back to the land of the living, Pensword? How terribly absent-minded of me,” Vital said glibly. Then he smiled as he walked over to his friend. “Sorry I made you guys come all this way. Mtaala and the other cows told me what you were put through.” His eyes hardened. “Needless to say, there will be some rather harsh words for the bulls responsible.”
“Thank you,” Pensword replied. “And you know we’d have gone back here to get you, no matter what. You’re family.” He looked half nervously, half guiltily, up at the giants. “Though I think we should continue this after Grif meets with these deities, don’t you?”
“A sound course of action. Come on. I’ll carry you, Grif. That display of yours took a lot of stamina, didn’t it, birdbrain?”
“A message needed to be sent,” Grif said as he inched forward.
“I’ll take that as permission to carry you, then,” Vital said as his horn lit up and Grif lifted off the ground. “Time’s a wastin’.”
The pair strode off a ways, until they stood beneath the seven siblings. “Grif, allow me to introduce you to the titans, seven of Gaia’s younger children who fled to this world with her, when Earth was losing its magic. The purple one is Amethyst, the yellow Topaz, and so on and so forth, according to their gem coloration.”
“The travelers,” Opal greeted warmly. “Thank you for coming to the aid of our children.”
“They took my friend,” Grif stated bluntly. “We had mutual interests.”
“Be that as it may, you deserve to be rewarded for what you have done to save the peace. Our brothers know your kind’s traditions well, and have a proposal Topaz will put to you, once we have finished here. As for your friend, the shadow tamer, we fear it is not our place to grant him a gift, save for a word of warning. I give it to you to decide how much to reveal of what I say.”
Opal turned to peer directly at Hammer Strike as the white patch on her forehead pulsed in a series of rainbows. The air shimmered around them to form a curtain of silence. “The ancient secrets you seek will come at a cost. There is a reason that land was lost. The Daring will find the way. The Hammer will be worn and beaten, yet still will strike the warning bell. Few, if any, will respond, until it is too late. It has happened. It will yet happen. And pain and loss will be the result. One will rule. Two will learn. One will watch from beyond. And a kingdom shall be forged from the remnants of an empire.” She looked pityingly at Grif. “I am sorry.”
“Thank you.” Grif bowed his head. “I’ll take that to heart and think on your words.”
Opal nodded and stepped back. The veil dropped and Topaz smiled as he stepped forward.
“And now to my contribution. To the warrior who liberated two races with one fell swoop, I have learned much of your culture from one who resides within your kingdom’s capital. We both have a passion for knowledge, and we have been known to collaborate from time to time.” The titan’s eyes sparkled mischievously. “With your permission, our siblings and we would like to fashion a proper set of trophies suitable to your culture and the nature of your conquest.”
“Very well,” Grif nodded.
“Do we have your permission to take the head of your adversary?”
“Be my guest,” Grif said, spreading his talons.
“Then you may go. We have much work to do. You will be called, when your rewards are complete.”
Grif nodded, then turned to leave. Vital lifted him in the air again and trotted off to join the others.
Hammer Strike frowned to himself as he walked back to the edge of the labyrinth and his waiting coat. He could still feel the energy from the barrier he’d generated around it, so it hadn’t moved from the boulder near the entry hole he’d blasted. It just wasn’t going to be a short walk back. He passed by segments of walls that had been damaged beyond repair and sighed to himself as he released the dome. He brushed the fabric to take off the dirt. It wasn’t until he looked down at the boulder that he noticed a small gold twenty-sided die with white numbers.
He was certain it hadn’t been there when he first laid his coat down, but with the dome of magic he’d surrounded his coat in, there was no way someone could have placed it there.
He picked up the die and studied it carefully. It was different in design from the one Grif had shown him, but held the same feeling of power within it. While the idea of rolling it was tempting, he knew this wasn’t the time or place. He stored it in his pocket instead and decided to investigate it later, before heading back to join his friends.
Pensword sat on a cushion the cows and bulls provided after the conflict had ended. Judging by its size, it was likely designed for a much larger entity, but the soft filling and cool silk left him feeling exceptionally comfortable. In a way, they reminded him of the cushions back in Canterlot. And with that thought came a sudden pang of homesickness that washed over him. It had been so long, nearly a quarter of a year, since he’d seen his loved ones’ faces. When were they finally going to leave?
He frowned as he listened to the discussions around him. More than a few of the bulls looked shiftily at the Pegasus when they thought he wasn’t watching, and spoke in low whispers on the fortune that he had escaped. Apparently, his quarters were crushed by the debris from the mountain as the hecatonchires woke from their slumber.
One of the cows arrived and offered him a steaming cup of tea. Now that they could properly understand one another, it was much easier to hold a conversation, and he found that the cows were not only courteous but very well-educated. He sipped the beverage gratefully and let the gentle warmth do its job, easing the tension in his muscles and calming his frayed senses. All the same, he refused to look up, knowing that he would catch at least a glimpse of one of the many deities that now towered above them. How Vital Spark managed to keep so calm about it, he couldn’t understand. Grif had his other gods to represent. And Hammer Strike, well, he was Hammer Strike. He’d already seen gods and spoken with living embodiments of concrete concepts, such as Death, Nature, and Time. All Pensword had on his side was his ability to communicate with the spirits of the dead, and these titans were a far cry from that.
Vital Spark smiled as he approached his old friend. “So, now that you don’t have to worry about being treated like a display animal, what do you think of the Stampede Grounds?”
“Hot,” Pensword replied bluntly. “And I still feel like a display animal, but I think it's because some of these beings haven’t seen a plucked Pegasus.” He narrowed his gaze. “I wish I knew who did this. I’d shave their fur completely. See how they like it.”
“I’m pretty sure they’re probably dead, Pensword. Either that or dealing with the harshest punishment the cows can cook up. Without Disiungitur around, there’s no current lead bull to take over. The cows are basically pulling rank behind their matriarch. I get the feeling this is going to be a major turning point for the Minotaurs, culturally speaking.”
Pensword’s frown deepened. “I saved a foal’s life and spent over ninety days locked up. I don’t know how to feel, let alone the fact that right now, I’ll be going home without a chance to exact revenge and with no compensation.” He snorted as he sipped the dregs from his cup. The heifer was only too happy to refill it again. “I don’t even feel like singing, for once.”
“It’d be a little odd, if you did. Captivity, especially the kind you endured, isn’t very conducive to a positive mental state, as I’m sure you’re well aware. You’ll recover eventually. Just make sure to take your time. Besides, you may yet get the chance to help with dispensing a little justice, if you’re interested.”
“Oh?” Pensword’s ears perked a little. “What needs doing?”
“The spark that lit this powder keg of a war came in the form of an assassination on the Longhorns’ chief. If they hadn’t been attacked, this whole conflict may well have been averted, or at least reduced. Innocent blood still needs to be avenged, and the killers brought to justice. I need you to help with that.”
“What do you need me to do?” A hard edge had come into his voice.
“According to tradition, the Longhorn tribe must now seek out the killers of their chief to avenge his death. If it’s possible, I’d like for you to use your gifts to communicate with the chief’s spirit, assuming he hasn’t crossed over yet. Now is the best time, since the titans have made it so we can all understand each other. Language won’t be an issue.”
Pensword closed his eyes and concentrated. He wasn’t sure how long it would take or if he could even find the spirit. It didn’t help that his other self may already be back in Equestria fighting the Third Gryphon War. For all he knew, if Gryphon spirits lingering in Gryphonia felt his energy, they might try to attack him, assuming he could even call out to the spirits here. Then again, with the gods of Zebras and Minotaurs present, it was possible his call could be masked, or at least he would experience a measure of protection. He sighed.
“I can’t make any promises, Vital Spark. I’ve only ever tried contacting my family before. The other spirits I’ve spoken with have sought me out, not the other way around.”
“We can at least try,” Vital said. “If you can’t, then we can ask Fjüra. She might know a means to call his spirit here for questioning.”
“Let’s see if he comes willingly first. Those that come of their own volition are much easier to talk to.”
“Will you need anything to help? Something to form a connection, or someone who was close to him?”
Pensword frowned. “Not really. I don’t know them very well. I doubt the Longhorns bought personal belongings from the chief with them. So, I sent out a question instead. I asked if he wanted revenge on those that killed him wrongfully. Either he’ll show up to help with that or inform me that it wasn’t a wrongful death.”
Vital deadpanned. “Pensword, he was assassinated. Believe you me, it was a wrongful death.”
“I have to cover all my bases when it comes to the spirits, Vital. I was taught to have an open mind when contacting them. That is what I am doing.”
“I assume you already addressed him as the former chief of the Longhorns?”
“Yes.”
“Then we shouldn’t have to wait long. As a spirit, it would be a simple matter for him to identify his killers and any connected to them.”
At that moment, a tall burly black bull with polished white horns materialized out of the ether. His pauldrons and the quality of fabric for his loincloth denoted his station. His gaze was level as he locked his gaze first on Vital Spark, then on the Pegasus.
“You would help my people bring me rest, though this matter does not concern you?” he asked in a rich deep voice.
Pensword lowered his head in respect. “I am a Thestral with a gift. It is my duty to do so. And were it not for the death you faced, the war that led to my own imprisonment and humiliation would not have commenced. If I can bring your vengeance to pass here in the land of the living, it will provide me with an element of closure as well as vengeance for you and your tribe.”
The Minotaur narrowed his gaze. “The four-leg who killed me hides in another land with those who would steal our homes and defile that which is sacred to my people and our siblings of the south,” he said, motioning towards where Zebra medics gathered with some of the cows. “Greed has driven this affair; greed sparked by the sight of that which your companion wears about his neck.”
Pensword pursed his lips as he eyed Vital’s necklace. “I see. This is about gems. That implies it’s a Unicorn, most likely.” He shook his head as the memory of a certain Unicorn traitor from the war flared through his mind. “I’ll see what I can do.”
The Minotaur pointed to Vital Spark. “He knows the ones responsible. He has seen the murderers’ faces.”
Pensword nodded. “I’ll make sure to ask him.”
“Then I will leave it to you and my tribe. Until then, I will wait in the great between.”
“We will give you peace,” Pensword said by way of farewell and the spirit vanished. Then he turned his attention to Vital Spark. “So, question I have for you. Do you remember encountering any Unicorns during your time here? Your chief says that his murder was arranged by a foreigner because of those gems on your neck.”
Vital Spark frowned. “There’s only one time I interacted seriously with other Ponies, and that was when I was back at the trading post. I posed as a hunter and tricked the nobles into treating me to a meal to spite them, after how they looked down on me and my escort. Any one of them could have done it, but only one seemed particularly interested.” He was silent for a time. “I think we may need to have a talk with Prometheus. If this murderer is who I think it is, we’ll need his help to get to her.”
The three hecatoncheires and Prometheus had been hard at work for the last few hours. The many-handed ones demonstrated the discipline of their control as they each worked the metals and gems that had formed in the remains of their mountain over the years. A great glowing caldera remained to act as their forge, and the deities showed no fear as they plied their crafts to refine the materials they required.
Zebras and Minotaurs alike still maintained a certain amount of tension one with another, but the watchful eyes of the titans ensured no combat would break out. Enough blood had been shed on both sides. Zebra and Minotaur worked in unison to share knowledge of their healing arts. The cows were easy to establish a relationship with. The bulls, on the other hand, would take more time. Those who were not ready to accept the current state of things were dealt with swiftly and either given the chance to fight with one another or to be put under the equivalent of house arrest by the titans. Now, the bulls may have been familiar with earth, but they were no dwarves. After the first few bulls were sealed in a cubic cell of stone, the rest got the message.
Finally, Prometheus beamed at his brothers. “It is complete.” He patted them on their backs. The hecatoncheires returned the gesture in kind, and Prometheus winced from the impact.
“Let usshowthemwhatwe have wrought,” Gyes said.
“Then let the mortals come forward. Vital Spark, Grif, if you would?” Prometheus asked.
Grif received his trophies with a quiet dignity. The three great beings had removed Disjungitur’s horns and molded them carefully. One had been carved with various depictions of Grif’s fight with the Minotaur king in classic Greek style. The carvings were then inlaid with obsidian to make them easily visible against the horn’s milky colour. The mead horn had been emptied and cleaned to a mirror-smooth interior, and a chain had been attached, so it could hang from the neck. The other horn had also been emptied and smoothed out, but opened at both ends. Polished copper had been fashioned on the smaller end and the surface had been decorated with metal fastenings engraved with various symbols and runes. A small leather thong had been attached with one end near the mouthpiece and another near the larger opening to hang from a belt.
Grif accepted the gifts gratefully, albeit wearily, and bowed.
It is uncertain how the gods were able to manage it, but the plain piece of wood had been completely transformed. The gnarled portions at the top had peeled open in equal lengths to spread down and out like the jets of a fountain. The lower portions had been carefully twisted and carved to give it a spiral-like shape. Patches of crystal flowed through the gaps in veins of blue and white. A large emerald had somehow been absorbed by the wood at the top and surrounded by a series of polished agates. A fine twine of gold and silver rimmed the ridged gaps between the gem formations and the wood they had become so intertwined with.
”This was a gift from Mustafa. It seemed only fair that we honor the intent behind that gift,” Prometheus said.
“Then it’s still alive?” Vital asked.
“Very much so.” He smiled sadly. ”Sapphires for wisdom and sound judgement, the emerald for honor, and the agates for virtue. In a way, you might say we helped make the wood a little more wise. It should help to keep you on the right track.” He lowered his hand and held the weapon between his fingers, so that Vital could grab it more easily.
“Thank you.” He nodded his gratitude to the great craftsmen. “I … don’t wish to sound impertinent, but there is one more matter I was hoping you might be able to assist us with before we go.”
“And that is?”
“Mustafa sacrificed himself to protect Zecora. That needn’t have happened, were it not for the initial murder that sparked this conflict. My friend, the winged four-leg over there, has the gift to speak with the spirits of those who have passed. I asked him to communicate with the spirit of the former chieftain of the Longhorns, and he agreed. The chief revealed that his murderer and the one who ordered the attack have both fled back to our homeland of Equestria. It is my humble request that you use your power to bring them both here to face justice at the hands of both Zebra and Minotaur.”
“This is no simple request. I would require the creatures’ names to bring them here.”
“I know the one. And it will be a simple matter to get the other from her,” Vital assured him. His voice was hard as the staff leaned against his shoulder. “She has much to answer for.”
Prometheus nodded. “Then let it be so.”
Lady Carmine had been sleeping quite soundly in her home. Her dreams were filled with the happy event of ever-flowing vaults filled to the brim with precious blood rubies, sapphires, and diamonds. She snorted in delight at the sight of workponies mining the great mountain of the Moyo Wa Roho. At last, a proper civilization graced the land, one that would know how to utilize its bounties to the fullest.
Her beautiful dream was disturbed, however, when the distinct sensation of nudging hooves drew her back into reality. Those damned servants. Whoever had dared to rouse her would soon feel her wrath. She had left specific instructions not to be disturbed! The deals to achieve the rights to the Zebras’ lands after the war had required extensive negotiation. It certainly didn’t help that she’d had to agree to granting that heathen Zebra citizenship.
“This had better be important,” she growled. The sun burned her eyes, and they struggled to adjust to the light.
“Oh, trust me, Lady Carmine, it’s very important.”
Carmine suddenly found herself levitating against her will. She quickly brought her magic to bear, only to feel a terrible pain as an ornate ring engraved with all manner of tiny precious stones and sigils slammed home on her horn. Each attempt to counter the spell the held her led to more pain. She winced, then finally gathered enough wits to glare down at the impudent Pony that dared to humiliate her. “What is the meaning of this?” she demanded.
Vital Spark stared up at the thrashing noble with a cold expression. “The meaning of this, Lady Carmine, is that you’ve been extradited from Equestria to stand trial for murder, exploitation, and war crimes against the nation of Zebrica and the the Minotaurs of the Stampede Grounds. Welcome back to the savannah.”
The trial was short and direct. The combined forces between the cultivators, medicine Zebras, and the cows yielded a potent truth potion. Since Zebrica currently was bound by treaty with Equestria, it was agreed to keep the trial in the Stampede Grounds, where no such restrictions could prevent their methods from the technical standpoint of the law. Grif had only been too happy to point out that particular loophole, much to Lady Carmine’s dismay.
With the necessary information extracted, it was a simple matter to bring her accomplice and bind him in a similar manner. The ultimate ruling was inevitable.
“You can’t do this to me!” Carmine protested. “Do you know who I am?” She glared at Vital Spark, then glanced over at the Gryphon. “Who are you working for, that bastard Flame? I’ll double whatever he’s offered you.”
“As if that insufferable moron could come up with something of this caliber,” Hammer Strike commented as he drew near.
Carmine furrowed her brow as she gazed at the Earth Pony. “Hammer Strike?” She shook her head. “No, you must be an imposter of some sort. Hammer Strike is on the front lines near the borders. Who are you?”
“Still the same, just in more than one place,” Hammer Strike replied simply. “It’s not that complicated. Do try to keep up.”
“That’s impossible,” she scoffed. “Not even Star Swirl the Bearded could manage that.”
A very peeved-looking Pegasus snorted. “You know the stories. Celestia’s Ghost is where he needs to be, no matter where or when.”
“You act like he would actually be needed here,” she scoffed. “All I see is the people who kidnapped me from my bed and hauled me to Faust-only-knows-where for a witch trial.
A wall of jagged green stone shot out of the ground to surround the Unicorn, while the edges gradually pushed closer and closer towards her. The translucent material of the gem wall gave an excellent view of the suddenly very fearful Unicorn. It certainly helped that the wall was so pale.
“If there is one thing we hate,” the first of the Emeralds began.
“It’s liars and oathbreakers,” the twin finished equally coldly.
“You hurt our children. Perhaps not directly, but the blood is on your hooves. You’ve admitted as much. You are not merely being tried by mortals. You are being tried by deity,” Amethyst added. “Your goddess will not save you from your folley, nor will honeyed words nor poisonous threats. You will pay for your crimes.” Then she turned to stare at the young Zebra warrior in disappointment. “The both of you must.”
“We wouldsaytosend them to Tartarus, but this one doesn’t seem nearly so tortuous as our own,” Gyes said.
“Why not just have her die over and overagain? Each death will be the same as those who fell,” Cottus growled. ”Would that not be a worthy punishment?” His many faces sneered and one winked slyly to his siblings.
Carmine paled noticeably. The Zebra began to tremble.
“We are better than our barbaric family, Cottus. Let one death be enough for mortals,” Prometheus offered sagely.
“Then howshall theybepunished?The femaledesires riches.Perhapswe shouldaccommodate her. After all,she’ll needan offering for the river,” Gyes suggested.
“She must live,” Opal interjected. “That much I can say with certainty.”
Carmine sighed in relief.
“She must still pay a price,” Topaz said. “If riches are most precious to her, then riches should be the focus our our judgement. Would you all not agree?”
They nodded.
“If you’ll forgive the intrusion, nobles like her also value political connections and negotiations. They’re always forming alliances, making deals, arranging marriages and contracts. If you remove that opportunity from her, she would most definitely suffer,” Vital Spark said.
“And what do you suggest?”
The Pony shrugged. “I admit it may leave a bitter taste in your mouths, since your family used it once before on a mortal, but it is an effective punishment. Make it so she can’t be believed by anyone ever again.”
“You would have us give her the curse of Cassandra?” Prometheus asked.
“As a suggestion,” Vital Spark clarified. “I know the decision is up to you.”
“Curse of Cassandra?” Amethyst asked.
“It was before you were born,” Prometheus explained. “Your cousin Apollo wanted to claim a mortal woman for himself. In exchange for her love, he promised her the gift of the sight. She readily accepted the gift, then spurned his advances. In retribution for her dishonesty, he struck her with a powerful curse. She would speak her visions all she wished, but none would ever believe her. That is the curse, to never be believed.”
“Wisdom dictates that such a curse would have an inevitable conclusion,” Sapphire said.
Opal nodded. “A short life with a quick death. That would be just.”
“It doesn’t have to be,” Ruby said quietly. “We can make sure she lives a long time. It won’t be that hard, if we give her enough….” Ruby swallowed. “Enough of my hearts.”
“Ruby, no.” Amethyst shook her head insistently.
“They would ensure she lives a long life, one where she can experience every fruit of that curse for herself.”
“And she would lose them just as quickly, either as a result of her own greed or from this curse, assuming we decide to follow such a course.”
The Emeralds shrugged.
“Then don’t let them stay lost,” the first said.
“Make them come back to her,” the second agreed.
“Then punish her for losing them,” the two said together.
“I know how,” Cottus rumbled. His faces had all contorted into wicked grins. “Let them burn her as we were burned. Not in body, but in the soul. She will feel the pain,but no mark shall be left uponher flesh.”
“Better yet,” Gyes boomed, “If shehordes like adragon, thenshe countslike adragon.Why stop atthe gems?Let all her riches burn her.If it has value,leave her unableto handle itherself,save for those things that are mostnecessary.”
“Such as?” Topaz asked.
“A bed,a table,that sort ofthing.”
“And if she begins to horde those things?”
Gyes shrugged. “Adjust the curseto applyto them,until shestops. She shouldget themessage,if shewants tosleep again.”
By this point, Carmine was practically bawling. Her vibrant red mane and tail swished and flopped as she struggled to maintain her composure. “Y-you can’t do this to me!” she wailed.
“We could always just kill you now,” Topaz said casually.
Carmine whimpered.
It didn’t take long to finalize the curse and send the Unicorn on her way. It was agreed that thirty fire heart rubies would be more than enough to suit their purposes. As an added effect, they placed a Want-it-Need-It spell over the gems to ensure all who laid eyes on them would covet after them, though Ruby insisted they lay an extra spell over the rubies to keep them from being cleaved or cut in any way.
When Carmine had been returned to Equestria, Amethyst turned her attention to the young Zebra colt.
“I’m afraid there is little that can be done for you, child,” she said regretfully. “You broke the peace and shed innocent blood. By rights and by law, justice is to be carried out at the hands of those to whom we deliver you for judgement.” She shook her head sadly. “May Death be kind.” She turned her head away remorsefully with the other six titans and looked to her three elder siblings. “He is yours, brothers. Your children may do with him as they wish.”
The Longhorns were only too happy to stake their claim. With the murderer caught at last and denounced by the very gods and chieftains that would have protected him, there was no one to prevent the retribution to follow. The strike was swift. Since the chieftain’s son was no longer among the living, it fell to Fjüra to execute the killing blow. A few earthen restraints and a neck brace provided by the titans left the Zebra’s neck exposed to her axe, and she landed true. There was a dreadful thunk as blade cleaved bone and sinew to embed in the hard earth. The head rolled and blood flowed freely.
“Blood for blood and life for life,” Fjüra intoned. She raised the head high for her fellow tribe members to see, then cleaned the axe blade and turned to the gods. “Now we can begin to build anew.”
“Without the usual conflicts, I hope,” Vital said pointedly. “I think my friends and I would rather not have to come back a second time for another war.”
“That is unlikely,” Opal said as her eyes became distant and the mark on her forehead flashed again. “True peace will take time to build, but this will be a good start. Besides, I think our children know we don’t want any more conflicts of this nature. Don’t you?” she asked as she peered intently over Zebra and Minotaur alike. Cottus stood behind her, flexing all his muscles, while Prometheus stood behind Cottus with an equally intimidating stare.
The two races got the message.
Vital Spark sighed as he walked with his sister. The other goodbyes had already been said to old friends and warriors. This one would be his most personal, and possibly the most painful.
“So, this is the end, isn’t it? You’ll be going back home,” Zecora said.
Vital nodded. “I have to. You know I don’t belong here in this time.”
Zecora chuckled. “I still can hardly believe it took that long for the summoning to work.”
Vital shrugged. “The gods work in mysterious ways. Why not spirits, too?” He smiled sadly as he levitated a carefully polished adderstone by a simple leather cord he’d looped through its hole. “I know it’s not much. I’d hoped to be able to embellish it a little more for you before I go.” He sighed. “Being god-touched, I suppose its magic might not be so useful to you as it would normally. It’s the best I can offer, though, as … well, as something to remember me by.”
Zecora chuckled. “You do realize how self-centered that sounds, right?”
Vital laughed. “I know. And so sappy.” He frowned. “But I want you to take it, all the same. Besides, of the two of us, I think you’ll have the harder end of things. The next time you see me, I won’t know you by anything more than reputation. And it will be up to you to keep it that way. You can’t let me know about this, any of it. You can make references to home, maybe some of the things we used to do together, but you can’t outright tell me the truth, not until I come back here. And even when I do, you can’t tell Pensword, Hammer Strike, or Grif either.”
Zecora stared at him.
“What, have I got something on my face?”
“You … called this place home.”
“There’s an old saying where I come from, Zecora. It goes, ‘home is where the heart is.’” He looked over at the milling Zebras and Minotaurs. The two races were working side by side to tend the wounded, repair the damage from the hecatoncheires’ awakening, and otherwise get to know one another. “And like it or not, a piece of my heart is always going to be here with you and the tribes. You all took me in, made me a part of your culture, your family, despite being an outsider and a Unicorn. Sure, part of it was for prophecy’s sake, but that doesn’t change what happened during that time. You became my teacher, and then my big sister. Mkuta became my friend, Mwalimu the peacemaker. I could go on for ages.” Tears swam in his eyes as he lowered the necklace over Zecora’s neck. “I’ll never forget what you all did for me.” He rose, embraced her with his forelegs, and nuzzled her neck gently. “I just wish you didn’t have to take the long way round.”
“Stupid Unicorn,” Zecora muttered, though her heart wasn’t in it.
Vital stepped back and wiped the tears from his eyes. “Right back at you, stubborn old Zebra.”
“Old?”
“Well, you are older, aren’t you?” he asked impishly.
“Oh, I’ll get you for that.” Zecora smirked as she rose to her hooves.
“You’ll have to catch me first.”
“Just to be fair, I’ll give you a head start.” Her smirk turned into a familiar sneer. “Start running.”
Vital Spark grinned. “Worth it!” he yelled behind him as he took off as fast as his hooves would carry him in what would be their last chase as brother and sister for over a millennium.
Pensword shifted restlessly from hoof to hoof as he waited. He knew his friends were saying goodbye, but for him, the sooner they left, the better. He doubted he’d even want to come to these lands in the present. His eyes roved back and forth nervously in hopes of spotting his friends or the familiar light of the portal, whichever came first.
Vital Spark smiled as he passed through the crowd to reach the recumbent Pegasus. His fur was freshly coated in dirt, and a hint of bruising showed beneath his eye socket. “Hey, Pensword, what’re you doing over here? Hammer Strike and Grif are already set to go.”
“Waiting for you three,” Pensword grumbled. “Then again, no one told me where we were meeting, so I wasn’t sure where I’d need to be.” He winced as he moved and a grimace passed over his face. “As you can see, I’m still recovering.”
“I can carry you, if you want,” Vital offered. “If I can manage Grif, I can certainly manage you.”
“I would say no, but frankly, I think that would be for the best.” He sighed, “I need a check-up when I get home.”
“You think you’ll have it bad, wait till Trixie sees this shiner bloom.” Vital chuckled as he wrapped the Pegasus with his magic and made his way towards the great colosseum. “At least your wives are regular Ponies.”
Pensword laughed. “For a stallion your age, in a Thestral camp, that is something to be proud of.” Pensword’s spirits rose a little as he shook his head in a mirthful chuckle.
It didn’t take them long to arrive. Grif stood tall and proud, with his swords strapped to his sides and back. The two horns had been safely stored in a side satchel. The beginnings of new scars had decorated the Gryphon’s body. A few dressings had been placed along the deeper wounds from the deadly spikes on Disiungitur’s war hammer. Hammer Strike wore his coat again and nodded gravely to the pair as they approached the interior of the cage.
“I found our straggler,” Vital said. He smiled as he lowered Pensword to the arena’s floor.
“I wouldn’t have straggled, if I knew where we were meeting,” Pensword replied testily.
“Let’s just get going,” Hammer Strike commented. “I’d like to get home and get back to my forge.”
“And Rarity?” Vital asked.
“Yes.”
“Well, I think we’ve all said our goodbyes, so it’s all on you now,” Vital said. “Whenever you’re ready.”
Hammer Strike replicated the same portal as he had before, creating a dome around them to ensure their security as the disc glowing appeared before them. “Allow me to go first. And give me a minute before you enter, all right?”
“Dare I ask why?” Vital asked.
“I need to check things on the other end first to ensure I got it right, and the more that travels through, the more energy it takes. So if I come back through, I did something wrong. If I don’t, then it’s fine.”
Vital smiled. “Okie dokie, lokie.”
Hammer Strike entered the portal, and after a minute, did not return.
“Grif, you first,” Vital insisted. “I’ll follow up with Pensword behind.”
“Nope,”Grif said, looking sternly at the two. “I’m not taking any chances. I’ll go last.”
“Just go, Vital. We should move. I don’t want to strain the portal any longer,” Pensword muttered as he tried to push himself back up. “If needed, I will walk through. I am better, after all. Well, mostly.” His eye twitched. “I do not like dealing with giant mountain-sized deities.”
Vital chuckled. “All right. After you, then, tough guy.” He nudged Pensword gently.
Pensword limped, and his wing still sent off twinges of pain with his gait, but his breathing was better, and he stepped through the portal under his own power. Vital Spark nodded and soon followed. The familiar sight of the freshly-stoked coals, materials bins, and various tool racks filled the Unicorn with a strange sense of nostalgia. Thanks to his year in the savannah, he’d been able to build up a certain amount of tolerance to high heat conditions. It was strange being in such a relatively confined space, after all that time on the grasslands, however.
In the time it took Vital Spark to familiarize himself with the forge again, Fox Feather had pulled Pensword sharply to her side and ran a close inspection of his growing feathers. Her expression was dark and her movements clearly communicated she wasn’t happy.
Moon River looked confused as her head turned from one portal to the other, then back again. “Ring hurt Daddy!” she yelled and readied her crossbow.
Grif emerged from the portal with a slow tired pace. He smiled gently at the filly as he roughed her mane. “It’s okay, Moony. We just ran into some trouble getting Uncle Vital back. Uncle Grif had to beat some monsters.”
“Daddy hurt!” she countered, shaking her head obstinately. “Make Daddy better.”
“He’ll be okay in time,” Grif chuckled. “You trust me?”
Moon River nodded, then promptly let off two bolts. One landed on Vital’s horn, the other smack dab on his lips. Then she giggled.
Grif bent down and whispered something into the foal’s ears. Then the filly turned to Pensword and let a bolt off at his flank, too.
Pensword sighed sadly. “No more couches, please. I’ve been in a gilded cage for months wanting to hold my famIly.”
“We’ve had a very long stay,” Grif said as he neatly cut off Lunar Fang’s coming questions. “We can tell you the story later, okay?” With that final piece said, Grif shuffled out of the room. It was time to get home for a long and well-deserved rest.
“By the way, how much time has passed, exactly, since the … incident?” Vital asked.
“Three Days,” Lunar Fang said.
Fox Feather looked to Vital. “Since you have the horn, and since Lunar Fang and I are getting close, you’ll need to take Pensword to the doctor.” She turned to glare at her mate. “Where you’ll tell both of us exactly what you did and what they did.”
Lunar Fang put a bowl of water in front of Hammer Strike. “You rest, if you can. And, if you don’t mind, could you watch Moon River? Fizzpot is hunting for the boys.”
Hammer Strike shrugged. “Sure. I don’t have much else to focus on at the moment.”
Lunar Fang smiled gratefully as she handed the foal over.
“Willow is going to whoop his sorry butt for getting this banged up.” Vital sighed. “I’ll see to it.”
Pensword flinched back from his wives’ glares as the Unicorn’s magic wrapped around him again and pulled him along through the air. Plainly, he wasn’t going to have a pleasant night that evening. Not for the first time, he wondered, was it worth it?
Moon River looked down at Hammer Strike. “Daddy okay later?”
“Daddy will be okay later,” Hammer Strike confirmed.
“Good.”
“I’m home,” Grif spoke tiredly as he entered the house. He began to remove his weapons and armor and placed them on the rack. Two blurry balls of fur and feathers quickly lunged at their father, bouncing fruitlessly against his heavier bulk, then hugging him with all their strength.
“Hey, girls.” He smiled, wrapping his daughters in a hug. “Daddy missed you.”
“I assume the mission went well,” Shrial said. “You smell like blood.” Then she peered at the bandages on Grif’s body. “And you took some blows.”
“Went well depends on your opinion.” Grif sighed. “We found Vital Spark in Zebrica, in the middle of an attack by Minotaurs. Pensword was captured and they took him to their capital. We had to befriend the Zebras, make something resembling an army with them, and then proceed to campaign into the Stampede Grounds all the way to the gates of Labyrinthian. And then their gods talked with the Zebra gods, and I ended up in mortal combat with the enemy leader.” Grif set the twins down and moved to a tapped cask in the corner. He filled his mead horn with gwarkalah and sighed. “I’ve been gone for months.”
“You really need to have Hamer Strike talk with Fate, then. It sounds like she keeps sending you through time on a whim. Have her give you a proper vacation, before she pulls one of you Winds-know-when. And if she doesn’t, have him tell her I’ll be making a special visit to persuade her otherwise.”
“I pity her, should you ever make that visit.” Grif chuckled and kissed his wife on the cheek. “For now, I’m just glad to be home. I missed you all too much for words.”
“Well, Avalon is with Tazeer and Gilda is sleeping off her meal. I swear, she ate enough to feed a regiment.”
Grif laughed. “She’s carrying triplets. What did you expect?”
“She gave Cheshire a run for her money, Grif. Cheshire!”
“I seem to remember you enjoyed big meals while you had the girls,” Grif smirked and kissed her forehead. “Are you okay?”
“Fine. For us, it hasn’t been so long. You did tell us what you had planned, once you arrived, after all. Avalon may be upset that you got a few new scars, though. You know how she hates when you bleed.”
“But I know you love tracing them.” He smiled.
“That’s no excuse for getting new ones, and you know it, Mister.” She poked him gently with a talon. “Now how about we get you over to the bedroom for some proper treatment, hmm?”
“Well, I wouldn’t say no to that.” He grinned and drained his cup. “But what about the girls?”
Shrial shrugged. “I doubt they’ll be turned off by a few bloody bandages. Besides, they have to get used to it eventually.”
“Well then, lead the way.” He laughed, setting the last of his things on the rack.
“And girls, no climbing over your father, until after I’ve looked over him. Understood?” Shrial asked as she stared intently at the two cubs.
The girls just giggled at the new expression, and Shrial sighed.
“It was worth a shot.”
Vital Spark sighed as he finally walked out from the infirmary. The veritable barrage of questions, insults, and more than a few swears was more than enough to exhaust any Pony. Little Willow was not one to mince words, and her waving a knife around and stabbing with each detonation of language certainly didn’t help to put the staff at ease. It did seem to put a smile on Lunar Fang and Fox Feather’s faces, though.
He sighed as he shuffled through the halls. After all that, he definitely needed a break. He ambled into his room to find a familiar cage obscured by an even more familiar streaked mane and not quite so familiar wings.
“Trixie?”
“Hello, Vital. You look tired. Something happen in Canterlot?” She approached him and nuzzled his neck.
“You could say that.” He sighed as he undid his leather straps to levitate his new staff, his hunga munga, and his rungu to lay on his desk or weapons rack as he deemed fit. “Though not necessarily all in Canterlot. It’s kind of a long story, and I’m not sure if Hammer Strike wants me to share the details with you yet or not.”
“You had an adventure?” she asked.
“Eeeyup.” Then he strode back over and kissed her. His lips lingered longer than usual. He smiled softly. “I missed you.”
“Well then, at least you kept your mind in the right place.” She grinned, returning the kiss. “I missed you, too.”
A mischievous smile pulled at Vital’s lips. “By the way, Trixie, did I ever tell you about my sister?”
“Back on Earth?” Trixie asked.
“It turns out I have one that’s been watching out for me here in Equestria, too. She’s going to need a seat at our family table.”
“Of course. Trixie will make sure to have a place set for her.” Trixie smiled.
“The best part is you’ve already met.”
“Oh?” Trixie raised an eyebrow.
“A mare with a most telling trait. Her rhymes are far from second rate.”
“The Zebra who lives in the Everfree forest?” Trixie asked in a shocked tone.
“The very same. Without saying too much, let’s just say she’ll fit right into our family of overpowered magical beings.”
“I suppose she will.” Trixie nodded.
“Speaking of which, she hasn’t seen you since your ascension, has she? I wonder what she’d think if she could see you now.” He chuckled. “I can already guess how she’ll react when I see her again.”
“Should I have painkillers ready?”
“Nah.” Vital shook his head. “You may need to hold back on your killer protective instinct, though, if we spar.” He chuckled. “She packs a mean left hook.”
“Trixie will keep that in mind. But she does have one question she’d like you to answer.”
“And that is?”
“Why did you dye your mane silver?”
Vital Spark stopped cold. “Uh, fiance say what now?”
Pensword was bored. Little Willow had forbidden him to read his books. Lunar Fang had taken it upon herself to do the paperwork for Clan Pen and the barony, Fox Feather had taken the boys hunting, and Moon River was still with Hammer Strike, making him worry just what she might come home with. The fact he also had been sequestered in a part of the infirmary without any windows in what equated to complete isolation made it evident the mares were doing everything in their power to make sure he’d never pull a stunt like this again.
He sighed resignedly. He’d get to tell his side of the story tomorrow morning, most likely after he thought over his actions. He chuckled and shook his head. What was one more night, after three months of forced isolation? He was already banking on missing a visit from Luna. She’d likely be busy, and the girls would ensure she stayed away, after they explained the situation behind his disobedience. For some odd reason, an old memory of Rainbow Dash playing ball while she was stuck in the hospital played through his head. Ah, yes, the time when Equestria was just a make-believe world and the Mane Six mere characters. That had been the episode where she got into Daring Do. “They sure know how to hit where it hurts,” he murmured. Sleep hadn’t touched him yet. He had little choice but to try to pass the time, until his body relaxed enough to rest.
It was going to be a long night.
Hammer Strike sighed contently as he sat down in his office. Paperwork was settled before he had left, so had an unusual amount of free time. After taking a few minutes to soak in the general normality or abnormality that was Unity, he sighed and locked the room down with thaumic energy. It was time to get to work again.
He reached into his coat and pulled out the small white die. He rotated it in his hoof, scanning over the edges and numbers. For some reason, the number twenty-one would flicker into sight for a brief moment before changing into a different number.
He glanced over it thaumically only to note a distinct lack of anything. The artifact had no aspects whatsoever. That shouldn’t have been possible. He frowned as he looked it over once more, gauging the temptation in his mind before deciding whether to roll it or not. If it was like the die Grif had used before, he was bound to be in for something interesting, as for how interesting, well, he wouldn’t know until he rolled it.
He debated the pros and cons, then shrugged and tossing the die across his desk. Gravity was oddly strong on the die. It only rolled a few times, before suddenly stopping on nineteen. The number began to glow, shining brighter and brighter, until Hammer Strike had to avert his gaze. There was no pain, no connection, nothing special about it’s turn, before the light faded, leaving a small blood-orange sun-shaped glossy stone on the top of his desk.
Hammer Strike couldn’t help but look confused as he slowly reached out for the stone. He’d expecting something, but certainly not this. If Grif was anything to go on, he’d thought a weapon would have emerged. He picked it up and a strange charge passed through his hoof. He activated his thaumic vision and perceived the stone was constantly outputting energy.
Yet this energy had no form to it, no conduit, no source. It just came out in a constant flow.
He frowned as he felt his field reach to the energy and connect. He gasped as he felt his reserves filling faster than normal. While the difference was far from extreme, it certainly proved revitalizing, and the energy remained consistent. It wasn’t draining faster than it was releasing, which meant it was probably replenishing itself from somewhere.
He frowned as he placed his new tool into his vest pocket. He was curious to know more about it, but he could already hear the sound of hoofsteps clopping towards his door. Someone was bound to require his attention. He would just have to study the new artifact later.
Extended Holiday Ch 150: The Ties that Bind Act 24
“As ends one chapter, so begins another.” Vital Spark sighed as he finished scrawling over his scroll’s surface and bound it up to join his other journal entries. “I miss computers.” He strode over to Aria and opened her cage to feed her. He allowed a brief nuzzle of affection, before turning to face the door. “I’ll see about getting you a proper perch soon. There’s not much sense in keeping you locked up, now that you can fly on your own power.”
Aria trilled her agreement and bobbed her head.
“Anyway, I need to go see Clover. She’s probably going to storm into my room, if I don’t check in on her soon, anyway, and I half expect she put some sort of tracking spell on me specifically to know if I ever get in trouble again. Then again, she might finally have thought I’m skilled enough to take care of myself.” He stroked his chin in deep thought, then shook his head. “Nah. That’s not her style. She’ll just keep saying I’ve got more to learn, possibly threaten to skewer me or worse, and maybe beat the pulp out of me, once she finds out I got myself in danger.”
Aria whistled shrilly.
“Right. Right. Sorry,” Vital said. He chuckled. “I guess now I’m just delaying. I’ll see you later, Aria.”
The nostalgia was strange, to say the least. It had been over a year since he had walked these halls, and now he was passing through them yet again. The air was still cold here, and he found himself ill-equipped to handle it, after being in the savannah for so long. By the time he reached Clover’s laboratory, his teeth were chattering almost uncontrollably. He didn’t bother announcing himself. The door opened easily into a room that practically radiated with heat, blessed cuddling heat! A final tremor passed over Vital Spark’s body, and then he sighed in relief.
“Finally.”
“Have fun on your adventure?” Clover’s familiar voice asked from across the room.
“You call fighting in a war an adventure?” he asked. The mare was seated in her customary armchair next to the fireplace, surrounded by organized stacks of books that waited to be reshelved. A second chair already waited for him to join her.
“I’ve fought several wars in my lifetime,” she reminded him.
“Then you know they’re not the type of experience one would always call an adventure. Though I will concede it is a growing experience,” he said as he mounted his chair. “So, you’re not going to threaten me with lightning or some other crazy tactic this time?”
“I think you understand where you were stupid without my help this time.”
“Speaking of which, I think we may need to hasten that possibility of a contract with Shiva. She seemed rather insistent back in Zebrica.”
“You managed to invoke her power?” Clover lifted an eyebrow.
“More like I sent out a general distress signal. She was the first one to pick up. I was about to be frozen to death by some windigos and I didn’t have any of my former memories of our studies together at the time. I admit it was a gamble, but since it was literally life or death, it was one worth taking.”
Clover nodded. “I guess you’ll need to read up on contracts then.”
“Agreed. By the way, Clover, she did something to these gems, too.” He levitated his necklace to her. “They’re baby fire heart rubies, and they were originally red. I doubt they’ll be useful for any kind of magic storage or channeling, but I figured I’d get your professional opinion on whether Shiva might have done something extra to them, just in case.”
“I wouldn’t be able to tell.” Clover shrugged.
Vital returned the gesture. “It was worth a shot. So, you knew I was going to go back. Was that as a result of adventures with The Doctor or just intuition?”
“The Zebras have many tales about that war, contrary to those who call themselves experts. I know facts aren't always facts.”
“Did you all figure out who was controlling the other house that arranged for my little accident or is that investigation still ongoing?”
“Grif and Hammer Strike dealt with it.”
Vital sighed. “I’d hoped you might have had some insight. Ah well. I suppose whoever is responsible will reveal themselves in time. Arrogance usually leads to a slip-up at one point or another.”
“No, they won’t,” Clover said. “They won’t be revealing anything anytime soon.”
“Just how far ahead have you seen into events?”
“I saw the smoke in Canterlot from here,” Clover said.
“I meant the future. And did that spell really have that large of a radius? I thought it only blew up most of the room I was in.”
Clover sighed. “You’re being simple again.”
“No, you just weren’t being specific. I assume there was a second explosion, then?”
“Yes.” Clover nodded. “An entire noble house went up in flames. Only the children escaped.”
“Yikes. I’m going to go out on a limb and guess the house was the one that supposedly arranged for my kidnapping?”
“Now you’re thinking.”
“That and I got some basics from the others, when they came back for me in the first place. So, one more question, since we’re feeling so candid with one another today,” he said as he stared into the fireplace. “When were you planning to address the elephant in the room with Twilight?”
“Which elephant?”
“The fact she’s your direct descendent.”
“And what makes you believe that?” Clover asked.
“Clover, the physical similarities were enough of a clue on their own. I’ve got shamanistic training added to it now. Do you really think I couldn’t link the two of you together?”
“At best, you have anecdotal evidence,” Clover said, “which is essentially worthless in its own right. As far as history knows, I never had children.”
“As far as history knows, yes. But as you said before, facts aren’t always facts.”
“Maybe, but as far as you know, that is a fact,” Clover said.
“You taught me to doubt history, because of how easily Ponies rewrite it, Clover. Your own protests and manner are confirmation enough for me. I’m not looking to publish it everywhere, and I’m not asking for details. I’m just asking when you plan to address it with her, because it’s going to come out eventually, one way or the other. You and I both know that is a fact, because this is Equestria. And let’s face it, these kinds of things always wind up coming out in one of two ways, and you already know what they are.”
“You ever think that’s not just my story to tell?” Clover asked. “Even I can’t make life from nothing. A hypothetical child would require a father.”
“Yes, it would. As I said, I won’t pry. I’m just wondering when or if you were ever going to tell her.”
“Not my place to decide.”
“Then I assume you’re saying it’s the ‘hypothetical’ father’s?”
“There are some secrets everyone must keep.” Clover gave him a sad smile.
Clover rose slowly to her hooves and cleared her throat. “You’ll find information on contracts in the volumes at the back. I trust you know your way around by now.” Then she turned and left the room quietly.
Pensword breathed the air of New Unity as he left the medical facility. He had heard rumors that they were planning to build a bigger hospital in the first residential ring, but he hadn’t expected them to have made such rapid progress. He looked to the plaster that now locked his wing into immobility. There had been no other option. The bone had to be rebroken to get properly set. This also meant he had to be on pain medication for the next two days, and a potion to prevent his wing from developing too much calcification as the bones knit together. He grimaced at his memory of the first dose. The taste reminded him only too well of the potion he drank when he first arrived in Equestria.
The sun rose steadily over the castle’s battlements. It was late morning, and the commander began to hum to himself, relishing in the chance to enjoy music again. His ears reamined perked as he continued forward, and his body tensed. No rocks came this time, however. No angry bellows either. It was a colder day, and his wings were covered in goosebumps without the aid of the insulating down they had once possessed. That being said, it was also beautiful. He was free. He was alive. And now he would be able to spend time with his family once more, assuming the boys had been found. How did young colts always manage to get into such trouble?
He paused as he saw a French Red Kite Maine Coon gryphoness land in front of him and raised a questioning brow. “Jacqueline, why do you have an Earth Pony stallion on your back?” He raised his other eyebrow at the blush that rose beneath the Gryphoness’ feathers. “Do I need to perform a wedding?”
“If you don’t mind, Father.”
“And what is your name?” Pensword asked the rather confused-looking stallion.
“Hollow Ground. I’m a Painter.”
“Very well. Then I expect you to spend time around here and at the Bladefeather compound. When Rainbow Dash shows up later, you are to attend the same classes she does. Assuming all goes well, come the end of the week, I will marry you and Jaqueline. Though you’ll have to wait in line, since Rainbow and Kahn asked for it first.”
Hollow Ground’s jaw dropped. “I don’t have to, uh, ‘prove my military might?’”
Pensword smiled knowingly. “What else do you think those classes are about?”
Jacqueline gave a small squawk of joy as she pulled the stallion into a tight squeeze, before taking flight again.
Pensword chuckled. After the week was over, three of his Gryphon children would marry. And to Ponies, no less. It seemed Melody’s prophecy was about to bear fruit. He wondered if Spring would be full of more such ceremonies. The Gryphons in his care certainly seemed to be moving quickly. “Well, might as well see about getting it all done in one swoop. I think I may need to call a family meeting. The more mare and colt friends I get through the training, the better.”
“And so, as you awaken cloaked in darkness, you find yourself in a dungeon, chained to the walls and surrounded by the scent of dank and decay.
“‘Ah, so the mighty heroes have awakened,’ a rumbling voice speaks from beyond the darkness behind the bars. ‘The squizard will be most pleased. He will reward me greatly.’ From out of the darkness, a tall figure shambles, cloaked in black and purple so that only a long cruel beak protrudes from the hood. You realize you have been captured by none other than Garfaud the Grypholich. He proceeds to inform you to enjoy the day, for come sundown, you will be executed for the glory of the squizard’s army and the dark empire. You are alone, chained to the wall. What do you do?”
Grif looked to the table where Spike, Big Macintosh, and several Gryphons looked at him anxiously. They scanned their character sheets rapidly for options. It took several dice rolls and numerous failed attempts at magic and lockpicking before the group finally managed to remove their shackles and leave the cell. From there, Grif lea them along the winding tunnels in a slow smooth narration, throwing monsters at them with practiced timing.
“Ha-ha!” Spike crowed in triumph as his fireball incinerated yet another monstrosity that barred their path. “Take that, you fiend!”
“From the creature’s body, you find...” Grif rolled behind the screen and grinned. “You find a small golden brooch of familiar design. In the center is a thunder sapphire cut in the shape of a diamond. The royal seal elegantly carved into the back of the gem stands out clear as day.”
Spike’s eyes widened as he stared up at the DM. “Y-you mean…?”
“You find the brooch that you gave to Princess Schamarity the night before she was kidnapped. Roll a perception check.” Grif nodded.
Spike shook the twenty-sided die. “Come on, magic, don’t fail me now!” He let the dice fly and it clattered over the table, bumping off Grif’s divider and finally coming to rest in the middle of their current field. The young dragon sank in his chair and groaned as he ran his hands over his eyes. “Eight. A measly eight!”
“Unfortunately, you cannot tell how long the broach has been in the monster’s possession and therefore if it was taken by violence or not, and if the princess is still here.”
One of the Gryphons who was playing a Kitsune had moved forward to scout ahead; however, at a junction a bright glowing pink mushroom drew his attention. At Grif’s prompting, he rolled a critical fail on his insight roll and the character began to eat the mushroom. By the time Spike and others reached him, he had eaten about half of the mysterious fungus.
“Roll a D10 for me, Matthias,” Grif instructed the Gryphon.
The Gryphon muttered, rolled his die and frowned. “I got a three.”
Grif consulted a rulebook and chuckled. “So, for the next three hours in-game, your fur glows a bright fluorescent pink. Your stealth rolls are with disadvantage, as are your intimidation rolls,” Grif explained, accompanied by the group’s outrageous laughter.
“Well another mark toward no intimidation. Stealth... I go back to the pack to act as mage, and be ready for healing,” he groused. Then he grit his teeth. “That’s the second time now. Seriously, guys, how could a rock make me cry?”
“Hey, the dice don’t lie.” Grif shrugged. “So, is anyone else going to replace the scout or just move ahead as a group?”
A Gryphoness snapped up the chance. Her character hadn’t seen much combat, due to the rest of the party killing the target before she had the chance. “I’ll use my Thestral Combatant.”
“But you don’t have stealth,” her neighbor replied.
“I don’t care. I want first blood next battle,” she snapped.
Big Mac just moved his figure on the map to being there for backup.
Lafayette smiled as he put his Abyssinian rouge to the front. “We must get the Commander for this game.”
“Perhaps for another campaign, Lafayette,” Grif said. “Okay. You continue down the narrow hallways until you come to a massive chapel covered with dark tapestries depicting darker acts: the selling of souls, sacrificing of virgins, kicking puppies, that sort of thing. The area leading to the dais is lined with dark wooden pews filled with skeletons posed to look as though they’re praying. A dark altar made from obsidian sits on the raised dais at the front. A massive pile of gold, jewels, and other treasures rests on its surface. What do you do?”
Matthias shouted before anyone else could say anything. “Detect Magic.”
Another of the Gryphons spoke up. “Uh, I think I can still use this spell. Dispel Magic?”
“Roll a D20, both of you,” Grif instructed.
“I rolled an eighteen. With modifier, that’s a twenty,” Matthias crowed.
The would-be-dispeller groaned. “I got a six, with my modifier of a two, that makes eight.”
“You can’t tell what type of magic is in this room, but it’s very old and you feel faint just from the aura it gives off.” Grif turned to the other Gryphon “Your dispel magic spell does nothing, seemingly absorbed by the source of the foulness that's in this room.”
“Whatever we do, we shouldn’t touch that gold,” Spike cautioned. “It’s obviously a trap, probably some sort of demon or worse.”
The Gryphoness grinned. “Oh, I can so take that on.”
Only to have in-game Big Mac use a restraining spell, free action, to keep her away from the gold. “Nnnnope.”
Another of the Gryphons simultaneously rolled for agility to get ahead of the player and cut her off. Unfortunately, the player rolled a nat one and caused a whole pew of skeletons to topple over like a set of dominoes.
Grif shook his head. Then he sneered. “For a moment nothing seems to happen, and then suddenly the creaking of bones echoes as, one by one, the skeletons begin to rise, picking up weapons as they do. Soon you are surrounded by the skeleton horde. Roll for ini–” Grif stopped as an alarm clock rang through the room. “Well, it seems our time’s up for this week, guys. Time to pack up. My other appointment’s going to be here in a few minutes.”
“Aww, just as it was getting good, too. How and why is it you always manage to leave us with a cliffhanger, Grif?” Spike asked.
“Because it keeps you anxious for the next game.” Grif smiled “Now come on. I need the table clear in ten minutes.”
The group packed up and left Grif’s home. He smiled as he heard them talking enthusiastically about the session. As soon as their voices faded from ear shot, Grif put away his notes on the campaign and pulled out a second notebook. He went around the room turning down the lamps and making the atmosphere much darker. His next group, after all, were far more intense then his last.
Twenty minutes later, he sat behind his screen once again, looking out at his current group.
“Good evening, friends. When last we left off, the demon lord Thargarus had finished collecting the seven sacred scrolls that would unseal the gate to the apocalypse, and you stand at the precipice of disaster. Between you and him stands no less then one thousand horrors summoned from his own personal pits of Tartarus. To make matters worse, one of your number had recently been awakened to the fact that Thargarus is, in fact, the father she had been searching for her entire life. And now she must decide on her course of action. Now then, I believe we were starting your first encounter with a mind flayer. Please, my friends, roll for initiative.” The light illuminated his face hauntingly as he eyed the group. The CMC smiled back at him as they reached for their dice.
Hammer Strike hummed as he thought to himself, eyes scanning over the surface of his mug of tea. He thought back several times to a few events and potential uses of his field that could prevent or otherwise obstruct such problems in the future. On the plus side, while it took some energy, he now had something connecting to his field that supplied him with power in a near-constant stream.
He still had no idea what the stone was made of, yet at the same time he felt all right with that fact. If it kept him going, then so be it. If they were going to return to Earth once more, then perhaps this would keep him from suffering from the extreme negative effects of losing his thaumic aura.
“You know, I could fashion a beautiful cravat out of that, darling. Then you won’t have to worry about losing it,” Rarity noted. “Or perhaps some other form of accessory, something designed to be useful for both forms?”
“Perhaps something else, yeah,” he replied as he came out of his thoughts. “I can’t exchange this cravat.” He gestured to his neck. “It’s … special.”
“You do realize it’s bound to wear out eventually, don’t you?”
“I know it will, and I will have to figure out the next step afterward.” After a second, he placed a hoof to his mouth, signaling for her to remain quiet. Embers bled off him, as did the walls around them. “That’ll keep things at least a little more … safe.”
“Safe from observers or from too much energy building up inside you? I hope you’re not in trouble again, darling.”
“Safe from observers, in a way,” he explained. He reached a hoof up to the cravat’s knot. As he pulled his hoof back, a crystal began to form. It was bright, with no discernable color. It seemed to change every time Rarity blinked. “This is why it is special.”
“What is it?” Rarity asked as she stepped closer to peer at the strange gem. “I’ve never seen its like before.”
“Primal energy. Think of it like the lifeforce of gods in a way. It’s a force of creation and destruction, life and death, etcetera.”
“And you’re walking around with it bound to your neck?”
“I can’t hide it in any other way, and even then, I won’t hide it off myself.” Hammer Strike shook his head. “It’s dangerous in anyone’s possession. Yet, Wukong thought it might prove useful to me. It’s somewhat hard to refuse something of this nature from him.”
Rarity sighed. “I suppose those are valid points. There are times where I really don’t like it when you’re right, though. You’re in enough danger without having to protect a potentially divine artifact.”
Hammer Strike gave a small smile. “I mean,” he tapped his back hooves. “Technically got three on me now.”
“That’s not exactly helping your case, you know.”
“Yeah, and yet I keep gathering more over the course of time. It’s a strange feeling, to be honest.” The crystal disappeared once more from his hoof.
“Well, we are in a castle in the middle of the Everfree Forest, right next to Ponyville, where a disaster or major problem always seems to strike on a Tuesday. At this point, darling, I’d say strange is relative.”
“Danger of this nature is ... more than I like risking.”
“It seems you have to face those kinds of situations far more than is healthy. Are you certain there’s no way we could have a talk with this Fate person and change her mind?”
“Fate cannot contain this.” He shook his head. “This reaches beyond the embodiments.”
“Then if she knows you have that, why would she have wanted you dead in the first place?”
“She doesn’t like me, because I defy her.”
“I see. Why do I get the feeling that’s going to come back to bite her, eventually?”
“Only time will tell,” he replied, followed shortly by another, “Not you.”
Rarity giggled. “You know, if anypony else were to see that, they would think you were going crazy.” She walked up and kissed him fondly on the cheek. “Now then, I closed down the shop for the day so you and I can have some proper alone time.” She brushed her flank against his side and nuzzled him, before flashing him with her big eyelashes. “What do you say we make the most of it?”
Princess Celestia had had a very trying day. Not only were the various noble factions up in arms over the recent destruction of House Glass, but now the Historical Society was filing petitions seeking restitution for damages to be levied against the remainder of House Glass. While the artifacts they had watched over were far from the most precious among Equestria’s history, they had been history. She would have to search long and hard to find suitable replacements to stave off further legal action against the poor foals.
She smiled weakly as she entered into the dining hall, where a well-rested Luna feasted on pancakes stacked high with whipped cream, powdered sugar, and syrup. The duties of the Princess of the Night would begin soon enough, even as Celestia’s own had just come to an end for the day.
“Greetings, Sister,” Luna said as she engulfed a whole four of the flat quick breads in one go. “You look tired. Come, rest yourself and join me in my repast. Surely, some food will do you good.”
Celestia sighed. “If only it would. I fear for the foals in House Glass. I’m certain another family pressured their parents into this farce with Vital Spark, but now they have to pay the price for it. And I am powerless to bring true justice to bear, without proof. I’m afraid this will require the powers of chocolate, the richest that can be found.”
“Then you are in luck.” Luna smirked. “Lady Pie just recently visited with a special delivery, just for you.” She motioned toward the end of the table with her wing. A great rectangular white pastry box that defied physics towered above the table and cast a shadow like the spokes of a wheel under the influence of the bobbing torches. “She also asked that you read the card before you open the gift.”
“How does she do that?”
“Sister, if you would protect your sanity, it is best you do not attempt to delve deeply into the phenomenon that is Pinkamena Diane Pie. Let us not forget what happened to Princess Twilight when she attempted to figure it out.”
“And have you?”
Luna shrugged. “I know better.”
Celestia smirked. “Cheeky.”
“See? The gift is working already.”
Celestia reached the top of the box with a few mighty flaps of her wings. She undid the bow and pulled the card out from beneath it before the box fell open and creaked to a precise stop just shy of touching any of the food on the banquet table. A leaning tower of chocolate pancakes stared back at her, and the fresh-baked scent flooded the princess’ nostrils, relaxing the tension in her body as she let loose a blissful sigh. White, dark, and milk chocolate chips created a starry pattern that speckled the midnight coloration of the coco-infused pancakes. Chocolate fudge cascaded in a beautiful glossy waterfall that ran artfully over buffers of strawberries, bananas, and other fruits. Frothy toasted marshmallow meringue and delicate whipped cream formed intermittent rings like the layering on a cake. A lone cherry rested atop a final carefully laid dollop of whipped cream nestled at the highest point.
“It’s … beautiful!”
“Remember, Sister. The letter?” Luna urged.
Celestia quickly regained her composure. “Of course.”
Dear, Princess,
I hope this gift helps make up for all the trouble you’re going through. I don’t like it when my friends are sad. I know how much you like chocolate, so I made this Super Duper Triple Quintuple Chocolate Fudge Mountain Cascade for you. Just make sure not to eat any of it till after that special letter arrives. You and Luna are in for a big surprise!
The letter somehow managed to snort in laughter.
Your friend,
Pinkie Pie.
Celestia blinked. “Well, that was….”
“Pinkie Pie to a tee?”
“In a word, yes. Perhaps we should use her as a gauge for when war is on the horizon. That Pinkie Sense of hers could save countless lives.”
“You know she won’t do it, Tia. Her talent is bringing happiness to Ponies, not watching out for war criminals or fiendish machinations.”
Celestia sighed. “Yes, I suppose you’re right. Still, it wasn’t a bad idea.”
“Certainly not your worst,” Luna jabbed playfully. “Why, I remember a time–.”
“Don’t you dare,” Celestia laughed. Then she raised a knife and fork in her magic and took a great wedge of a slice from the top six pancakes, making sure to get some of the meringue and fruit to balance out the chocolate. One swallow and she moaned in pleasure. “How does she manage to create such masterpieces?”
“I would assume the same way she manages to sense everypony’s imminent fates and surprises them all with parties and gifts through meticulous planning and potential spy antics,” Luna said calmly as she partook of another three pancakes from her stack. By the way, didn’t she tell you to wait until after this mysterious surprise?”
“I’ll take the risk,” Celestia moaned as she took another huge mouthful.
Luna chuckled and a flash of green appeared as a scroll materialized, bound in a simple ribbon with no discernable seal.
“A letter from Twilight?” Celestia asked.
“Open it and find out,” Luna suggested. “That does remind me, though. We really should see about getting her a proper set of seals and signets.”
Celestia smiled as she pulled off the ribbon and revealed the parchment within. The smile widened as she read, then passed the letter over to Luna. “It’s from Vital Spark.”
To the Two Sisters who Rule over Day and Night,
Princesses Celestia and Luna,
Greetings. I am writing this letter to inform you of a most glorious event.
You are cordially invited to the Wedding of Vital Spark and Trixie Lulamoon precisely one week after Spring begins in the Everfree. As close friends to the groom and rulers in the realm, it seemed wrong not to have you present at the proceedings. That being said, Trixie and I both ask you to return your reservations as soon as possible and to burn this scroll immediately after viewing its contents. We do not want or need any nobles getting wind of this. If we get any that try to butt in on our special day, we will not be held responsible for our actions.
If you would kindly make contact with the ambassador for Zebrica as well, it is my request that a representative of the lines of Bayek, Hekima, and Mkuta from the time of the fall of the Ukata Mkubwa also be in attendance, along with the current chieftain of the Moyo Wa Roho.
Likewise, it is requested that a direct descendant of Fjüra, the sacred cow who led the Longhorn tribe with her sisters in the same time period, be invited to attend in accompaniment with the current lead cow and bull of their nation and their mates. We have every confidence that you will be able to deliver these invitations in a manner that will be well received.
Thank you for your assistance in this matter, and we look forward to receiving your reply.
Sincerely,
Vital and Trixie
Luna grinned. “HUZZAH!” she bellowed in her booming Canterlot Voice. The force of her exuberance neatly blew everything off the table … and all over Celestia.
Celestia sighed. “I suppose I deserved that.”
Luna snorted. “She did try to warn you.”
“Would you care to experience some, Luna?”
“You know I would trounce you in a food fight, Tia,” Luna warned. “Now just a moment.” She quickly skimmed over the document, memorizing the pertinent information before blasting the scroll to ash and then scattering the remnants with severe flaps from her wings. “There. Now we may proceed.” Her horn ignited as the good plates rose and began to circle her protectively. “Do your worst, Sunbutt.”
Celestia sneered as she levitated a mushy gob of condensed pancake, chocolate, and meringue. Her mane flared an unhealthy orange briefly as the shadows played across her face. “Oh, I intend to.”
The foodfight that followed was truly to be the stuff of legends.
“So Trixie and I agreed we don’t want to make this too big of a wedding, but we do want to make sure to invite all the important people we care about. I’ve already sent a letter to Luna and Celestia with their invites, so that just leaves our friends here in New Unity and Ponyville. I’m still a little iffy on if we should invite anyone else from Canterlot. There are a few good friends among the nobility there for Hammer Strike, but I haven’t really had the opportunity to get to know them that well, myself. What do you think?” Vital asked Black Rook as he peered across his desk. The piece of furniture had been shifted to the center of his room and was currently lined with a list of proposed names from both the bride and groom to be put under consideration.
“Well, it’s not like the two of you are afraid of getting some of the big wigs angry,” Black Rook chuckled. “And not like you have a lot of other friends you could invite from other places in Equestria.”
“Though we will be inviting delegates from Zebrica and the Stampede Grounds, so we may need to see about ordering some translation medallions for those guests, in case they don’t speak Equish.”
“All the way from Zebrica, huh?” Rook chuckled.
“Let’s just say I had a Hammer Strike moment and certain relations in that land resulted. They are relations I would like to renew, if possible.”
“Gonna have to send that out quickly, if you want it to reach Zebrica in time for them to get here,” Rook pointed out.
“True. I asked Celestia and Luna to take care of it. Knowing them, they’ll be able to deliver the invites a lot faster than any of us could.”
“Have you two talked over the details? Seems to me you can’t leave a lot to question with things moving this fast,” Rook commented.
“We’ve been discussing color schemes and the like with Pinkie. You know how insistent she is when it comes to planning events. We’ll be asking Rarity to help us with some of the more fashionable touches. Nothing too fancy, just something that says us. I was actually planning to stop by the boutique after we finish here, assuming Hammer Strike doesn’t have more errands for me to run. By the way, I intend to name Grif, and Pensword as groomsponies. Assuming they accept, they may be of assistance with some of the preparations, though I can’t make guarantees, given how busy their schedules can be.”
“And how are you feeling about all this?” Rook asked.
“Rook, I’m getting married. How do you think I’m feeling about all of this?” He sighed and shook his head. “Sorry, that was the Clover in me talking. I guess you could say I feel like most grooms: a little numb, sort of nervous, probably more than sort of, but I can’t let that stop me. She asked, and I said yes, and … well….” he blushed profusely. “She’s one hell of a mare,” he said sheepishly. “Pardon the language.”
“I’m a soldier, Vital. Guaranteed, I could curse enough to make your coat turn red permanently. You never need to apologize for language around me.”
Vital chuckled. “It’s kind of how I was raised.” He turned his attention back to the lists again and frowned. “There’s not much chance of getting all the Rohirrim there for the ceremony, is there? At least some of them will have to be on guard duty.”
“Kinda how it works, but I think I can make sure the newbies are all working that day so the ones you know best can be there.”
“If they can’t, I’m sure I can devise a means to ensure they can see it. Hammer Strike and I can probably put our heads together for it.” He pulled open a drawer with his magic and sighed as an explosion of coil-snakes sprang out into the room. “I see the Pegasi have been busy in my absence.” Next, he removed a new inkwell and a quill. “I know I probably shouldn’t ask, but how’s the speech coming along?”
“Slowly.”
“You could always talk with one of the others, if you’re stuck for material. Grif, Hammer Strike, Pensword, Clover. They’ll probably each have something for you that you can incorporate.”
Rook nodded “That's true. Maybe I’ll ask them. But right now we’re here about you.”
“You know, it’s weird for me to think like that.” Vital chuckled nervously as he ran a hoof through his bristly mane. “I’m not really used to being the center of attention.”
“Yeah? Well I imagine Trixie would be pretty disappointed if the two of you weren’t.”
“She’s not so self-centered as she used to be, you know. But then again, it is our wedding day. It’s funny, really. Part of me still wonders what it was she saw in me to begin with for us to take things this far.” He smiled ruefully. “Do you think Fate might have had something to do with it?”
“Doesn’t fate always have something to do with it?” Rook retorted.
“You know, I wouldn’t put it past her. Though I may have to send a letter to Murphy and ask him to give us a break that day. You think he’d be willing to give me a day off for the ceremony and reception?”
Rook rolled his eyes. “So, plans for the honeymoon?”
“Grif suggested a place off the south coast. He says it’s the best location a newlywed couple could ask for for privacy and intimacy.”
“So then, what do you need my help with?”
“Planning the bachelor party?”
“I’m not supposed to tell you about those plans.”
“Ah, so you are planning one. Just don’t go trying to get me drunk, okay?”
“Don’t worry about that. Grif’s not much of a drinker either, so we’re going to find something else.”
“Part of me is afraid to suggest this, but you might consider talking to Discord. He lives for a good party, and he might have a few ideas for some fun entertainment.”
“No promises,” Rook said flatly.
Vital laughed. “All right, then. Let’s get back to work. I need your help to make sure I haven’t missed anyone.”
Pensword smiled fondly as he sat in the field of flags thinking over the past and the future. He could see the evidence of the workponies’ progress. Stone walls seemed frozen in their growth, and a supply shed lay off to the side waiting for the workers to return and resume construction. After a sufficient period spent in this relative calm, his ear twitched and he narrowed his gaze.
“So, you’ve finally come to talk to me.”
There stood Jorund, proud as he had been the day of his execution. His blood-red feathers shimmered in the evening mist. “I wondered how long it would take for you to stop moping and step out of the shadows. I’m surprised you didn’t approach when I was gathering messages before.”
Jorund grit his teeth as he bit off a growl that threatened to rise in his spectral throat. “Much though it pains me to admit, I need you to give my daughter a letter. It is a message I should have given her before her wedding day, but as you know, it is difficult for a specter to be heard. I take no pleasure in addressing my adversary in this manner, but … you did defeat me. That is no small feat. I am prepared to pay triple your rate to have this missive delivered.”
“And why should I help you now?”
“Because I require this letter to be sent and read before I am able to move on. You may take it out of the beaks your princess won from me and my comrades in arms. She will be willing to pay for this one. Of that, I am sure.”
Pensword’s eye twitched and he forced himself to take a calming breath. “It is my duty to assist the dead,” he said begrudgingly. “I take no pleasure in this visit, but if it is what you require to join your kin on the winds, then I will write it for you.” He pulled his satchel open and withdrew a sheaf of parchment, a quill, and an inkwell. He jotted an account on one of the parchments as a reminder of the payment, then laid out the second paper and primed his writing implement. “Speak.”
He recorded the words dutifully as Jorund gave the message that he had been drafting and revising for the last thousand years. Other figures began to take shape on the edge of his vision as he continued to record word for word. None of his family came to sort the line, as they had in the past. It was strange, but possibly promising. The fact that the Gryphons had lined on their own between the flags showed they bore at least a modicum of respect. Perhaps they weren’t all such savages, after all.
He sighed as he finished another line of prose. At this rate, he would take most of the night tending to these requests. Then again, it wasn’t like he had much better to do while he waited for his wing to heal. Hopefully, the service would help to ease the disquiet left behind by his imprisonment, until he was cleared to hunt with his family again. And the bits and beaks would certainly prove helpful in sustaining his family. Yes, the bits would be very nice, indeed.
Hammer Strike hummed to himself as he observed the new trinket of his, still completely unsure of what to call it besides a ‘small orange sun gemstone that isn’t quite a gemstone.’ Which, admittedly, didn’t roll off the tongue well.
He frowned as he listened to Grif’s movement. He had called for the mercenary in order to get his opinion on the object. An outside perspective would perhaps give him some more ideas as to what he could do with it.
“Come in.”
“You wanted to see me?” Grif asked as he entered the room.
Hammer Strike wasted no time in passing the stone to his friend. “What do you think of this object? Be sure to look over it thaumically. See what you can note.”
“It gives off an astounding amount of energy,” Grif said. “It seems to hold qualities not all that different with your own field in some areas, and there is some kind of link between you and it, not unlike my own sword. But yours is softer, more refined.”
“Draw some of the energy from it.”
Grif raised his hand and a small crystal formed in his palm. “The energy didn’t diminish,” he noted. “It’s not the case that it replenished itself faster than I could notice either. The energy I took made no difference whatsoever.” His arm quivered slightly, even as he kept his hand perfectly level to maintain the stone.
“Exactly,” Hammer Strike said as he took the object back. “What’s strange is that while the vessel that yielded this object was similar in signature to the dice you found a while ago, it was different in coloration and felt … more natural, I suppose I could say. I found it underneath my coat, after I destroyed the labyrinth wall.”
“Did it hurt when you picked it up?”
“Nope. I felt absolutely fine. In fact, I felt refreshed.”
Grif brought the katana out, which Hammer Strike realized he hadn’t been carrying when he came in the room and held it before him. “It burned when I picked it up,” he said grimly. “It burned right down to the soul. If what you say is true, can we be sure that these are even the same dice?”
“Similar in nature, but as I stated, it felt more natural than the die you found, strange as it is to say that,” he hummed. “Gold in coloration, with white numbers. Twenty-sided, but I could occasionally catch the glimpse of twenty-one.”
Grif reached into his bag and retrieved a small leather case. “I think we might need to study these,” he noted, opening the container to reveal a light green die with purple numbers and edges. “And possibly collect them, if we can. If it can provide things like that—” he pointed to the amulet, “—they could be dangerous”
“They are dangerous, but I haven’t heard anything on them, which I find very strange. Even something of this rarity would have a legend of some kind, but this has absolutely nothing.” Hammer Strike hummed to himself once more. “I can’t even put a pinpoint on the energy that they exude. It shifts too much.”
Grif closed the case and stowed it in his bag. “I think we should keep quiet about this, until we have more information.”
“Agreed.”
Commander Pensword looked at the four envelopes that lay on the stone bench next to him. A female Gryphon crept out of the mist and took Jorund by surprise. As it turned out, she happened to be Shrial’s mother, and she had come to give her blessing to her daughter and her son-in-law. He smiled as he recalled how easily she had swiped her wing or talons to smack her husband in a manner all too reminiscent of her daughter’s behavior with Grif. He would definitely need to tell Shrial that little detail when he delivered the missives.
The real surprise came after a reproachful glare from his wife prompted Jorund to offer a final missive for Pensword. Then the Gryphons turned together and Jorund straightened to address the other spirits.
“Only those who have business with the Bladefeather clan will approach. Otherwise, give the Commander his rest. Many of the gathered faded with mixed grumbles and rebukes. However, despite the thinning of the number, Pensword still spent another couple of hours in the field writing letters of encouragement and love to Gilda. There were … quite a few that wanted to speak to her, actually.
As a courtesy, and to simplify matters, Pensword charged a flat fee of one hundred beaks to Gilda’s family. By the time they were through, he had seventeen letters to give her. He scanned his scrolls fastidiously out of habit and discovered just how much Gilda’s family had managed to get off with. The Pegasus winced. He would need to put his hoof down on most other messages. Otherwise, he’d have to deal with absolute bedlam and no profit to show for it.
It took him a moment to recognize the sensation of two sets of wings, one downy, one leathery, wrapping around his torso. His body began to shake as the warmth seeped in, and he realized just how cold he really was. Fox Feather and Lunar Fang nuzzled him silently in a gentle reminder of just how important it was to be among the living and care for those living requirements.
After he’d finally warmed enough under their ministrations, Fox Feather wordlessly presented a set of leg weights. They were for foals, but leg weights nonetheless. He accepted the gesture gratefully as they helped him put them on. He kissed each of his mates lingerlingly. No words passed, but no words were needed. All three knew Melody’s warning and Luna’s confirmation still laid heavily over them. They would keep a close watch to ensure no more of these misadventures would take place, but he had more preparations to make. He would be ready for the assault when it came, no matter the cost.
He pulled himself reluctantly from the warmth of the moment and picked up his letters. “I have to deliver these to Grif. They’re important.”
The two nodded their understanding.
“Come right back,” Lunar Fang said.
“You need your rest,” Fox Feather agreed.
Pensword swallowed heavily, then nodded and started for the Bladefeather compound, buoyed and weighted by his wives’ unspoken blessings and chastisement.
Pensword stood before his friend’s house and rang the doorbell. Grif opened the door a few minutes later.
“Oh, Pensword, come in,” he said.
“Thank you, Grif,” Pensword replied. “I’m afraid I’m here on more business than pleasure. Are Shiral and Gilda home?”
Grif nodded. “Come into the sitting room and we’ll talk.”
A cheery fire crackled in the sitting room’s hearth. A screen sat in front to prevent any stray sparks from spreading. A series of chairs and other furniture had been crafted with the Gryphons’ larger bodies in mind, though a few smaller chairs had also been included in the room, most likely to accommodate for Tall Oak and Little Willow on their visits.
“Shrial? Gilda? Can you two come down here?” Grif called up the stairs.
“I thought I was supposed to be grounded,” Gilda shouted back.
“Gilda, leave the sass to Shrial. She’s better at it,” Grif returned.
“But she is learning,” Shrial added. The pair arrived a few moments later. “What is it, dear?”
Pensword had laid his saddlebags on the coffee table and stood by it with a grim expression.
“Pensword needs to talk to the two of you,” Grif said.
Pensword motioned with his good wing. “Please, take a seat. I have letters for you.” He opened the top of his saddlebags and handed two to Shrial. “These are from your Mother, Lenora, and your father, Jorund.”
Shrial grimaced at the mention of the name. “So, he’s still around. I thought he would have moved on by now.”
“This is to help do just that. And I assure you, he didn’t say anything mean-spirited. it is what he wished he could have said to you before your wedding day.” His lips crept up in a smile. “Your mother may have had something to do with that. She smacks your father almost as much as you do Grif, maybe more so.”
“You don’t have to read it, if you don’t want to,” Grif said supportively as he laid a wing across her back. His other wing pulled Gilda in next to him. As always, he made sure to share his love equally.
“It’s tempting,” Shrial admitted. “I loved him, Grif. I loved him and everything he stood for, until I met you. Then….”
“But he hurt you.” Grif nodded. “The choice has to be yours.”
“I hate to butt in, but she does need to read it to give Jorund rest and the ability to be with Lenora. I’m sorry, I promised I’d do my best to help him rest, for her sake, and because it’s my sworn duty as one with the gift,” Pensword said.
Shrial’s answer came slowly as she struggled to keep her voice clear and level. “And did my mother express the desire for him to join her?”
Pensword nodeed. “Yes. Jorund has paid for his crimes these past thousand years. He misses her, and wishes to have her to guide him. It took a few centuries for him to even consider change, according to your mother. He has no expectations for forgiveness now, but he does wish to progress. Viewing his words will allow him to take that step. As you know from your own fiery nature, your mother will be able to keep him in line as he works toward the rest.”
Shrial took a deep breath and sighed. “Very well. Let’s get this over with.”
“Please read it silently and share with Grif later on. I already know the contents. I had to write it.” He turned to Grif and pulled the other two letters from his bags. “These are for you. They contain an apology and a father’s council about his daughter. As I said for Shrial, you don’t have to read it, but do not burn it or I will have to write it out again. Jorund made me swear. The other is from Shrial’s mother.”
Grif took the missives with a grimace and placed them in his pack.
“Mind you, the mother’s is very proud of you, so please at least read that one.” He looked to Gilda. “The rest of the scrolls in this bag are for you. Your family wanted to give some last minute instructions, recommendations, advice how to raise cubs, and what to expect with giving birth.” His face burned red. “In great detail.”
He cleared his throat and hurried on. “The others are various notes expressing joy over your achievements. Some pertain to hidden artifacts that are part of your heritage. They wish you to have them, along with certain buried treasures which you have claim to as the sole survivor of your clan, especially now that you are married into an exceptionally powerful one here. Any detractors in the empire would have to accede to the request to reclaim that which is your birthright. They also wished you to know of a legal loophole that was included when they were gifted their lands, so that you may reclaim your ancestral home, should you wish. He sighed. “The rest kept me up for hours. Teasing notes, gossip, that sort of thing.”
“Is he serious?” Gilda asked.
“You think I would be taking these letters otherwise?” Shrial countered. “I’m not one for sugarcoating things, in case you haven’t noticed, Gilda. If Pensword were deluded, I’d have woken him up very quickly.” She flexed her talons meaningfully.
Gilda gulped. “I see. Then … everyone … everyone was okay? They … they don’t hate me?”
Pensword stared at Gilda and spoke in a flat tone. “You are married to Grif, The Avatar of Winds. You are a successful huntress, you are raising and going to have cubs. They are happy on the wind, and that if any had been missed that bloody night of revenge, you’d have the Avatar to exact the remaining justice and a Demon to hunt for you. I also know your weak spot, thanks to your brother. In short, your family expect you to grow to become an Old One with Grif at your side. They’re proud, Gilda. And you should be, too.”
In a rare instance, Gilda allowed the tears to flow freely down her cheeks and beak. She sniffled as she took the saddle bags. “If you tell anybody you saw me crying, I’m going to deny it,” she said.
“It’s a start.” Shrial smiled gently as she strode out from her husband’s wing and laid her own over Gilda’s back. “No need to feel shame over this one, Gilda. We’re allowed to weep for loved ones past, even in the old laws.”
“I wept for two days, after I set hoof into Mountainside Falls,” Pensword contributed. “I know I’m no Gryphon, but some things are just universal.”
“You know, Pensword,” Shrial said pensively, “sometimes I think you have more Gryphon in you than you may think.”
The winds whipped fiercely as frigid sleet raked across the stones of the castle and its outlying structures. Thick layers of ice formed in the cracks between, while the trees of the forest twisted and writhed in a wild frenzy. The sudden storm would have taken the castle by surprise under normal circumstances. But this was Hammer Strike’s domain. And as all Equestria knew, Hammer Strike was no normal Pony.
The guards pressed on through the ice, wearing heavily reinforced horseshoes with a series of spikes designed to help with traction. While most Ponies would have gone without anything more than their fur and perhaps a scarf, the troops that patrolled the walls and borders of New Unity were garbed in thick fur coats courtesy of the Bladefeather clan. Reinforced metal plates had been included on key points of their uniforms to provide an element of protection against attack.
Mingled with the howl of the gale was an exultant shriek not unlike a bird of prey. Only one creature at the castle could find such joy in the storm. Big Guns shuddered and folded his arms as he squinted up into the clouds. His rootlike mane had shriveled and hardened flat against his head and back to form a glossy polished layer that looked almost like redwood.
“You’d think she was the cause of the storm, the way she keeps cheering about it,” he grumbled.
“You call this storm? This is a flurry,” Heavy Set called out with a hearty laugh.
“Perhaps Mama is powdering nose, yes?” the second Heavy snickered. This was followed by his receiving a heavy dose of waterlogged snow that slid off one of the slanted roofs at the castle above.
His brother laughed. “Ha! Mama does not like bathroom humor. You know this!” He continued to laugh as Big Guns helped to dust off some of the excess from Heavy Set.
“I’m afraid I don’t see the connection,” Big Guns admitted.
“Mamma is one you call Mother Nature,” Heavy Set explained. “She is very strict, but good at spoiling when you are good to her.”
“Hey, guys. Did I miss out on the fun?” The first of the Scouts had returned from patrol. Icicles hung off his wings and snapped as he shook himself to free his feathers.
“The heavies were just talking about their mother,” Big Guns explained.
“Oh, that. Yeah, I used to badmouth the whole raised-by-nature thing, but then stuff kept happening to me. Bees nests falling on my head, snapping tree branches, giant bears chasing me after the honey from the hive coated my fur. And don’t even get me started on the moldy bread. Better to just take their word and leave it at that,” he said in his thick accent.
“Moldy bread?”
Scout shuddered. “I said don’t ask.”
“Still wish the weather didn’t have to be so bad,” Big Guns grumbled again.
Scout shrugged. “Eh. After literally plunging into the depths of a fiery abyss to deal with an enchanted talking demonic book that turned our heads into bombs, this is a cakewalk.”
“And dealing with a horde of mutated Changelings?” Big Guns asked.
“Bonus level.”
Big Guns shook his head in disbelief. “Just how many insane things have you people had to deal with?”
“We don’t really keep track anymore. Doc’s got a system of some sort for it, but it’s still got a few bugs to work out.”
“Scout!” one of the Heavies chided.
“We all work for Hammer Strike. I don’t think he’d mind my telling a fellow employee.”
The Heavies were silent for a time. Then Heavy Set finally spoke. “He has point.”
The second one shrugged. “Just do not tell others. Is very special project.”
Big Guns nodded. “So, after our shift is over, do you two think you could teach me that drinking game of yours?”
The Heavies grinned. “We will make arrangements with Demo Ponies. Special game deserves special brew.”
Vital Spark sighed to himself as the gates to the castle boomed shut behind him. “We’re really doing this, aren’t we?” he asked. A low cry followed by a light peck to his head alerted the Pony he still had a very insistent passenger. “Okay, I’m doing it. But you get my point. I mean, we haven’t seen each other or spoken in over a thousand years. I asked her to hide everything about us from me. Don’t you think I’m entitled to at least a little nervous breakdown?”
Another harder peck answered that question quite firmly.
“All right, all right! I get the message.” Vital flinched back from the onslaught. “Have you been spending time with Clover lately?”
Aria whistled her affirmation.
“Of course you have.” Vital sighed as he trekked through the snow. “How is she?”
This time Aria’s whistle was more subdued.
“Still carrying the weight of the world, huh?”
Aria let out a series of whistles that sounded suspiciously like a certain machine.
“Are you sure you haven’t seen Star Wars?”
Aria flapped her wings and took flight.
“Now you’re just dodging!” the Unicorn shouted, then sighed again as Aria ghosted away into the scudding clouds above. He shook his head, then closed his eyes and concentrated. The contact was slower, more of a struggle. The cold had frozen the earth solid and it did not want to be disturbed by the touch of a shaman. However, he knew he needed to find Zecora, and the fastest way would be to counsel with any spirits that remained in the area.
Deep within the earth, he could feel the chaotic essence from the plunder vines. Even in the chill of winter, the effects of discord’s chaos magic lingered. Whispered threats, thrashing rage, promises of violence and consumption. Vital Spark turned his feelings firmly away from that presence and the wards that served as its prison. While it may have been nice to connect with Harmony again, he had a mission to accomplish.
He stretched his probe farther, until a child’s voice echoed in his mind. A crystalline tone rang through its words.
“H-hello?” it asked uncertainly.
“Well, this is a surprise. I wasn’t expecting to find a flora spirit this active during the winter,” Vital replied. “What’s your name?”
“S-snowdrop,” the voice tinkled quietly.
“Nice to meet you Snowdrop. My name is Vital Spark. I’m looking for a friend of mine. She’s a Zebra. You might have spoken with her in previous seasons?” He flashed an image of Zecora through his mind for the spirit to view.
“Oh yes. I know her. She’s really nice. She always comes to admire me in the meadow after the first snow.”
An image opened in the Unicorn’s mind revealing a series of delicate blue flowers rimmed with white. Each bloom was unique, and all glittered under the light of a full moon.
“Is she there with you now?”
“Not right now. I think she said something about bringing some remedies to that place with all the thick stones. It’s not easy for me to grow there.”
“Ponyville?”
“Yes, I believe that’s what it’s called. The winds considered dropping some of my seeds there this year, and they mentioned that name.”
“Thank you for the information, Snowdrop. If you don’t mind, I’d love to visit your clearing sometime and admire you properly.”
“Anytime,” the spirit welcomed. “A friend of Zecora’s is a friend of mine.”
Vital Spark smiled and slogged through the snow drifts, using his magic to help clear the way when it became too deep to traverse on his own. He was still hesitant, but the encounter with the spirit had filled him with a certain amount of confidence. It was time to see his sister again.
“I’m coming, Zecora.”
“How have your magic reserves been treating you recently?” Hammer Strike questioned as he looked up to Gilgamesh, who was currently sitting across from him in his office.
“I-it’s flared up a few times in the last week, b-but it was still w-within my control,” Gilgamesh replied, quickly reinforcing that he was fine.
“That’s good to hear,” Hammer Strike replied. “While I normally wouldn’t be worried, the aura in the Everfree is drastically different from most locations, and as noted, most Gryphons aren’t able to control magic like yourself. So nobody can be certain how your magic will respond.”
“Why is the E-everfree so different, anyway?” Gilgamesh questioned. “If … you don’t mind answering, that is.”
Hammer Strike gave a soft smile. “It’s all right. Let me think for a second.” he hummed to himself and furrowed his brow as he ran through it in his mind. “If I recall correctly, based off the order of events, it seemed to be a mixture of events, one after the other. The primary two were Discord’s initial stage reveal, and the second is probably linked to the deal with Nightmare Moon, and the technical separation between Celestia and Luna from the Elements of Harmony. It’s quite a lot of major forces of magic in play at once that lead to the forest being so unstable in terms of its aura.”
Gilgamesh frowned as he thought to himself. “I-I’m sure significant magical events have happened e-elsewhere as well, but w-why is it so concentrated here?”
Hammer Strike shrugged. “I couldn’t say. Most forms of magic act differently from each other, so perhaps it’s just the lingering effect of several different things.”
“I … I see.” He smiled timidly as he looked down at the book he’d been studying. “Do … do you think you could ask Miss Clover to visit again? I’d like to ask her a few questions about this magical theory.”
A hint of a smile pulled at Hammer Strike’s lips. “I’ll see what I can do.”
Pensword watched from his window as Day Moon locked swords with Nanami. Her tails flared behind her as she braced against him. The colt had to learn the ins and outs of maneuvering his sword with his mouth. As such, the two had been working on building up his strength and endurance in his neck muscles while testing the strength of his bite. While his white coloration proved an advantage in the snowdrifts, his teacher had been swift to adapt, and warned in no uncertain terms not to rely on such tricks when dealing with an experienced enemy.
Pensword smiled in approval. After much wheedling and some begging, he’d finally managed to gain his wives’ blessings to work with Day Moon, Cristo, and Inigo on their hatchet skills. An open invitation had also been extended to Night Terror, though he wasn’t sure if she would be able to make it.
A series of tools and vessels had been included and laid on the edges of the arena. Crystal vials, herb pouches, scrolls, and various tomes all waited for the young foal’s touch. Training dummies stood off to the side, embedded with stake holes and other evidence of various instruments from dagger to dirk and beyond. One pouch lay open, filled to the brim with a series of what appeared to be sack cloths surrounding some sort of weight. One of each of these makeshift binders had been tied at his legs for the sake of his own protection. Pensword smiled again as he looked down to his own hoof, where a similar weight had been placed.
He watched for a time, enjoying the memories that came with the struggle. Basic training had been brutal in some ways, but it was necessary. It would be of great use to his adopted son one day.
The commander was soon interrupted in his musings, however, by a striking blue muzzle that pressed itself against his nose and a light weight against his torso.
“Story!” Moon River demanded gleefully.
Pensword chuckled and nuzzled his daughter as he raised the book she had placed on his back legs up and pulled her to cuddle under the covers with him. He began to read diligently.
“Beth the Bat woke up in the warm cave....”
An enchanted figurine leaped from page to page, simulating the action of flight as it glided on bat wings. It reminded him of the book his father once read to him long ago on Earth, before he had become a Pony. This would certainly become a family treasure. He chuckled as the bat jerked to a halt over the illustration of a great owl and Moon River let out a tiny squeal as she burrowed deeper into her father’s side.
He held her close and whispered gently, “Don’t worry, Moony. I won’t let anyone harm you.” His tone hardened slightly. “Not ever.”
Vital Spark hummed to himself as he passed through the last of the road and beyond the border to the Everfree. The snow wasn’t so deep here. The road had been cleared by Earth Ponies using plows to push the fluffy white substance aside.
“You know, those Flim Flam brothers probably would have earned a mint if they’d just put a plow on that machine of theirs instead and offered it for road service,” he mused. The sky overhead was clear and bright, and a cold wind nipped at his nose and flanks as he trotted down the road to town. He made a beeline for Sugarcube Corner. If anypony might know where Zecora had gone, it would be a certain pink mare.
The warmth was a welcome change from the ice and snow outside. Fragrant spices like nutmeg, coriander, all spice, and more mingled in the air with the overpowering scent of sugar and frosting to create that holiday warmth that only seemed to permeate a home during a certain time of year. The Pony he had come to see beamed from her place at the counter and waved him over.
“Hiya, Vital Spark! Welcome back. How was the trip to Canterlot? Didja beat up some bad guys?”
“More than I would care to count,” Vital said with a gentle smile. “It’s good to see you again, Pinkie. You wouldn’t happen to know where I could find Zecora, would you? Someone told me she was making rounds in town today.”
“You just missed her. She came and bought some baking supplies from the Cakes about ten minutes ago.”
“Any idea where she was going next?”
“To see Octavia, I think. She caught a nasty cold.”
“Thanks, Pinkie.” Vital smiled and raced for the door. “I’ll tell you about the adventure later!” he called over his shoulder, then was back into the cold. He raced down the streets as quickly as his hooves could carry him. Thanks to the year’s worth of training, on top of his previous fitness work with the Rohirrim, it was a simple matter to reach the curiously divided house. The carefully carved bush fashioned after an eighth note had withered into a husk of its former self, and snow filled the tops of each of the flower boxes. A stream of steam and smoke rose out from the organ pipes overhead.
A quick knock on the door was all he needed to call Vinyl to the door. Well, a quick knock to him. A desperate pounding to everypony else.
Vinyl opened the door and waved at Vital.
“Sorry to be so rude barging in like this, but is Zecora here?”
Vinyl smiled and nodded, opening the door to let him in.
“Thanks. By the way, I love what you’ve done with your mane. You trying a new style?”
The pair entered into the divided studio room, where Octavia lay on a couch and Zecora was busy measuring a warm bowl of broth that smelled suspiciously of herbs and spices. Octavia smiled gratefully at the Zebra. Her body was covered in a luxurious gray bathrobe trimmed in purple. Her mane was askew and her nose, surprisingly enough, a bright red that practically glowed in the dim atmosphere of the home. The warmth from the fire radiated through the cottage, and the Earth Pony’s beloved instruments had all been rearranged to avoid getting too close to the cheerful blaze.
The Unicorn smiled and waited until the Zebra had finished administering her remedy to her patient.
“Guess who’s back, old mare,” he said in Zwahili.
The tin Zecora had been holding went soaring into the air, only to be caught by Vinyl’s magic moments later. Vital didn’t waste any time. He strode up an caught the Zebra in a hug. “I’m back, Zecora. I’m really back.”
Zecora smiled. Tears swam in her eyes, but she wouldn’t let them fall as the two maintained their embrace.
“This may just be the head cold talking, but you look … different, Vital Spark,” Octavia said. “Did you do something with your mane?”
Vital chuckled. “Yes. Yes, I did. We can discuss it more later, Octavia. I think you should focus on resting. That remedy Zecora gave you should help clear your sinuses for a time, but you’ll need to take another dose every few hours. Zecora will leave you with enough of a supply and proper instructions for Vinyl to mix it up for you.”
“Oh. Okay.” Octavia smiled sleepily. “That sounds—” She never got to finish her sentence. Her gentle breathing and the gradually softening honking that was the evidence of Zecora’s remedy at work soon assured the trio that she had drifted off to sleep.
Vinyl Scratch smiled gratefully at Zecora, then winked at Vital Spark and gave him a hoofs-up.
“Yeah, I suppose the style’s not too bad,” Vital said as he nursed the bristly mane. “Still kind of miss the gold, though.”
“Still the tendency to whine. You used to do it all the time,” Zecora said with a knowing smirk.
“Is that the way to treat a brother who’s about to get married?”
“And what of the sister forced to tarry?”
“I’ll give you ten freebies. Ten,” Vital finally replied.
Zecora smiled knowingly. “You wish you were so lucky,” she said.
Pensword smiled as he propped the titanic book up on a special pedestal designed to support the extra heavy tomes Twilight usually carried. The device hovered behind him to lessen any potential strain on his wings. The princess had been kind enough to loan it to him during his recovery. It didn’t take long to transfer the book and the portable pedestal to his office, where he settled in for a relaxing read. Ironically enough, he felt more comfortable in his work space than he did in his own bedroom. Lunar Fang and Fox Feather’s stiffness may have contributed to that for a time.
Familiar paintings and illustrations for plans and dimensions flickered rapidly as his eyes drank in the contents. The words were so familiar, but that was exactly what he wanted. He draped a feather from his good wing down the pages, until he found the passage he was looking for and began to read.
“Let’s see. The Titanic’s bridge as it appears just after the change of watch at 10:00 PM on April 14th, there was Quartermaster Robert Hichens’ location at the ship wheel, Quartermaster Ollier assisting, Moody was there, and Murdoch is here in command.” He smiled as he eyes lowered to the bottom of the column where a picture of the Titanic’s wheel stared back at him. The polished wooden control had been attached to a bronze telemotor. He continued to mutter giddily as he read up on his old human passion.
Once more, the desire to build a luxury ocean liner for Ponies surged to the front, but he knew that would have to be left to others, maybe his children or grandsires, assuming Hammer Strike agreed to let them at that point.
He leaned back and sighed as he swam in happy memories. He could almost hear the ocean waves, the thrum of the mighty engines, and the cold chill of the North Atlantic. Even he wasn’t sure why he was so obsessed with the vessel, but he always returned to the subject after stressful moments in his life. He opened his eyes and returned to reading Titanic: An Illustrated HIstory.
He frowned at the knocking on the door. He looked around and realized that at some point in his reading he had decided to take the book from his Titanic room to his military office. He chuckled. He hadn’t done that in a long time. “Enter.” He put a bookmark in place and closed the book, leaving the proud painting of the ship visible to all. The glamour charm he’d had placed over it should keep others from peeping too deeply into it.
Black Rook entered the room with a perfectly practiced three steps. “Sir.” He nodded respectfully. This was not a military meeting, and currently Pensword held no actual rank above Rook’s own, but the stallion had made a point of showing respect to the other stallion’s experience. “I hope this is not a bad time?”
“Right now, all I have is time. What do you need, Black Rook? My help? Advice? A cup of tea? A babysitter for the troublemakers?” he added with a smrk.
“I appreciate the offers, Sir, but between Grif’s reputation and my own growing one, the Rohirrim rarely have troublemakers. And if they do, the squad deals with them personally. No, I’m here on more personal matters.” Rook casually shut the door before turning to the stallion. “We have a bachelor party to work on.”
“You want my help to plan it?” Pensword asked with both eyes wide as his head reared back. “Why?”
“You, Grif, and Hammer Strike have worked with Vital Spark much longer then I have. Grif and Hammer Strike are busy with personal matters right now, so I thought you might be willing.”
“I am willing,” Pensword allowed. “Just surprised is all. I’d like to hear what you’ve thought of so far, if I may be so bold to ask.”
“Well, I was thinking…” And Rook began to outline what he’d thought of so far.
Grif casually chugged from a tankard of water as he moved the wooden sword to block his would-be-attacker. Now that he had time, he’d taken it upon himself to fully go through and test Day Moon’s abilities with the various weapons of the trade. They’d been through archery, knife fighting, the usages of the different types of fire, and proper application of sanctified water on the battlefield. Now the Gryphon was testing the colt’s natural capabilities with a sword.
It may have been the difference in their skill levels, but Grif was finding the boy’s instincts regarding swordplay to be discouraging on several levels. Day Moon grasped the concept well, but had yet to strike out with anything creative. At this point, Grif had decided that wooden swords would be better than training blades, out of fear the blunted steel might cause serious injury to the colt.
“You need to use your mind! Consider the situation,” Grif urged as he sent the colt’s sword into the air with a deft flick, not for the first time in the last half hour.
Day Moon dove under Grif’s torso and kicked as hard as his legs would allow. As he suspected, they met thin air, but it did provide enough time for his sword to land back into catching range. He snagged it in his teeth and lunged back to his hooves again.
Grif chuckled as he used his wings to drift back out of the foal’s range. “That's it. Now your thinking.”
“Doesn’t mean I like it,” Day Moon mumbled over the sword’s handle.
“Imagine it for an instant. You’re fighting something cunning.” Grif was gone in an instant and then beside Day Moon. “You’re fighting a creature faster than you!” He swiped Day Moon’s side, sending him tumbling several feet. “Stronger than you can imagine.” He was gone and behind the colt before he’d even stopped moving. Talons wrapped around the back of the colt’s neck and closed slowly. “And ready to kill at a moment’s notice.” He felt the colt gulp and released him, letting him fall to the ground. “That's what you signed up to kill, Day Moon. The hunter who survives survives because they fight to live. Decorum is for the battlefield, for soldiers. But when we hunt, you need to be ready to use everything, every trick, every cheat, every dirty move you can think of. It may not feel pleasant, but it will allow you to keep feeling.”
“I’d ask if you meant living, but Ping Sensei already taught me about what they could do to me, if I fail.”
“There are many things worse than death,” Grif agreed. “You understand that to even scale next to a vampire’s physical strength would require the same amount of strength you would need to chop down a tree with one swing of the axe?”
Day Moon nodded.
“You understand no one said this was going to be easy?”
“You told me exactly how uneasy it was going to be,” Day Moon said as he set himself into a guarded stance.
“Then show me what you're made of, Day Moon.” Grif smirked as the two locked again. Talent would come in time. At least the foal had heart.
Hammer Strike hummed aloud as he continued writing in his journal. Countless variants of thaumic equations and potential outcomes dotted the pages, and each one took a different step to change the chances of the outcome. It wasn’t until he was certain before he closed the book and placed it within his coat.
He rose from his chair and strode to an open space in the room, then sat again. After a minute of calm collection, he took a breath and closed his eyes. His thaumic field flared up around him, then began to separate, before suddenly vanishing from sight.
Hammer Strike hummed to himself as he opened his eyes to look at himself. His body sat before him, eyes closed, chest rising and falling regularly. The experiment was a success. His body was still alive, still connected, but the majority of his thaumic field and soul had been separated with his consciousness to function separately.
“Now, that’s certainly a sight…” he muttered to himself as he paced around his body. True, performing this experiment left him under a certain amount of risk, but the precautions he had taken with the experiment easily countered that aspect. His field was still present over his body to sustain its biological functions, and a thread of energy streamed between himself and his corporeal form, ensuring a constant connection.
He walked over to his desk and reached out a hoof, gently tapping the desk as he focused his field into his spectral hoof. When he spread the field evenly, he found his hoof slipping through the desk in an interesting fashion.
The door to his office suddenly flung open in a blue aura as a familiar white Unicorn walked in bearing a long rectangular box carved in intricate patterns and brushed with silvery frost. “Hey, Hammer Strike. I’m running down to the compound for a meeting with Grif. I just wanted to know if there were any messages or items you needed me to take with me, since I’m heading that way anyway.”
“Over—” Hammer Strike sighed and looked to his thaumic field for a moment before reaching out to Vital’s. In this state, he didn’t have to worry about overloading his eyes. After a few seconds, he smiled as Vital shivered. “Hopefully, that worked,” he muttered to himself. “You able to hear me, Vital?”
“Please don’t tell me you’ve become a disembodied spirit and we’re going to have to do some convoluted quest to get you back into your body again, while struggling to keep it alive. I really don’t have time for that trope right now.”
“Please. I’m better than that.” Hammer Stroke rolled his eyes. “I was simply testing projecting myself through thaumic means while keeping a connection to my body. You just happened to barge in during my test.”
“Naturally.” Vital followed the spectral Strike’s example. “So, I repeat, anything you need me to bring or messages to deliver?”
“Negative. Grif was over recently, so I’ve got that covered.”
Vital nodded. “Oh, by the way, Rarity wants to see you. I think she’d like to take you shopping for Trixie’s wedding gift.”
Hammer Strike hummed to himself for a moment. “Was she still here in Unity, or did she already head back to Ponyville?”
“Ponyville. You know how she is about that business of hers.”
Hammer Strike’s projection vanished and his body shuddered. The air rang with the cracks in his neck as he rolled his head, then opened his eyes. “I’ll have to get on that then.” He frowned and hummed to himself. “Perhaps use a portal to speed things up.”
“I doubt it’s that urgent. The wedding is still a ways away, and you still need to recover from that campaign in Zebrica. Though a quick response would likely be appreciated.”
“Trust me, Vital. I’m fine, I can manage a portal through location easier than one through time. I’ll contact you when I’m back, if I need anything.”
Vital nodded. “Whatever you say. I’ve got my crystal, anyway, so I’ll be ready when you need me.”
Vital Spark smiled and nodded in greeting to each of the Gryphons as he passed through the compound. It had been a long time since his last visit, thanks to his extended stay in Zebrica. The buildings were uniform, almost spartan on the outside, but he had a feeling the interiors would be far more personalized to each of the families. He paused briefly and addressed one of the warriors on their way to wall duty. The dark tips of his feathers shone glossily in the midmorning sun, even as a biting wind swept down to blow the last vestiges of the previous night’s storm away.
“Excuse me. Sorry to interrupt, but I was wondering if you could point me in the direction of Grif’s house.”
“That’s Clanleader Grif,” the guard corrected.
Vital shrugged. “He’s just Grif to me. I just need to know where his house is. If you’re not willing to tell me, could you direct me to Big Mac and Little Willow’s place? I’m sure they can give me directions from there.”
“You’re Vital Spark.” It wasn’t a question.
“Yes. Are you new to the clan? I don’t think we’ve met before.”
“I’d be surprised if we had. The clan leader has a tendency to send me on other assignments.”
Vital nodded. “So, about those directions?”
A few minutes later, Vital Spark found himself drawing near to the center of the compound. The scent of fresh hot baked goods and particularly of sweet meats nearly pulled him away from his goal, but this was more important. He steered clear of the stalls, despite the many almost stringent efforts to draw his attention. It seemed the innate greed associated with Gryphonkind still acted as a driving force. Then again, it may have been competition, instead. And this was part of their livelihood, after all. A few kind nods and gentle assurances of his return later were enough to placate most of the sellers. The rest couldn’t follow him forever, or they would risk leaving their stalls unattended.
As he drew nearer to the compound’s heart, a familiar crooning voice rose over the wind and entered his ears. Vital Spark smiled. It would seem that the mysterious Blue Eyes had made an early appearance. Perhaps there was a wedding taking place in the compound, and he’d come to sing. The Unicorn followed the directions he’d been given. The voice grew stronger all the while, until he reached Grif’s front door, at least he hoped it was, and knocked.
Shrial’s red feathers shone in the sun as she peered down at the familiar white Unicorn and smiled. Heat radiated from the enclosure. “Vital Spark. We weren’t expecting you to visit. To what do we owe the pleasure?”
“I came to have a chat with Grif. I realized there was something I neglected to bring up with him previously and thought it was better if I simply came here to discuss with him. Is he meeting with Blue Eyes or have my ears deceived me?”
“You weren’t supposed to know about him. Grif was saving that for the wedding.”
Vital shrugged. “I figured he’d show up again. He seems to make an appearance at all our weddings.”
“We are all connected to some rather influential people,” Shrial said pointedly.
Vital smiled. “Come to think of it, your wedding was one of the biggest things this side of Equestria. The first successful Equestrian clan founding. So how come our velvet-toned friend didn’t make an appearance at your reception?”
The crooning cut off and broke into a series of coughs.
“Oh dear. Sounds like he swallowed down the wrong pipe,” Vital mused.
“I’ll go see if Grif is here. Make yourself at home. Just mind the twins. They have a habit of trying to pounce visitors when they’re off guard. They were occupied with Tazeer last time I saw them, but that won’t last forever.”
Vital nodded. “Thanks for the warning.”
A few seconds later, there was a tap on his shoulder. “Vital?” Grif asked. When Vital turned to look, he found Grif in light armor. He held a training blade in one hand and seemed to be sweating. “I was training on the roof. Shrial said you needed me?”
Vital raised a skeptical brow. “I’m pretty sure I would’ve heard you if that were the case. Plus, you would’ve seen me and probably hailed me as I approached,” he noted. “That being said, though, I’m not here to try to poke holes in stories.”
He levitated an intricately carved box out from his saddlebag and held it open. An ornate blade as clear as glass laid on a red velvet cushion. Its flowing design was coated in a series of tiny runes that chained together along the weapon’s length. The surface took on the appearance of frosted glass as it was presented. The interior swirled, as if a great snow storm raged within. A diamond had been embedded into the weapon’s pommel, and silver had been etched along the housing of the gem.
“I wanted to make something that would be practical as well as ceremonial,” Vital Spark explained as he lifted the blade from the case, lowered it gently into his hooves, then passed it hilt-first to the Gryphon. “Stop me, if I get this wrong,” he began, then cleared his throat. “Grif Grafson, I offer you my trust and my knife. Your enemies are mine, my family yours. Will you stand for me at my wedding?”
Grif’s beak dropped wordlessly. He reached out slowly, grasped the hilt of the knife, and took it from the Unicorn with great care. “You remembered?” he finally managed to say.
Vital cracked smile. “I had to do some research to find the right words again, but it’s not easy to forget when a friend offers you a knife on your first day in a strange land and asks you to stand with him, like you’re about to go to battle. I … wanted to do this right by you, if that makes sense.” A light blush showed beneath his fur. “You’re like a brother to me, after all.”
Grif chuckled. “I was terrified that day. Not just because I was getting married either. All the things I’d done to that point, all the things I have done since. I thought you’d be ashamed of me,” Grif admitted.
“Have you murdered innocents?”
“I’ve killed non-combatants, if that's what you mean, but I try not to kill people who never did anything to me or mine.”
“I said innocents, Taze. And that doesn’t include wartime. You and I both know circumstances are different there, and you do your best to avoid those kinds of things. Now then, on to the next one. Have you tortured anyone that didn’t deserve it?”
“No. I don’t torture without reason.”
“Do you or have you ever supported debauchery, abuse, or any other such practices in any of their forms?”
“No,” Grif answered firmly.
“Then why the bucking hay bale do you think I would be ashamed of you?” He strode forward and wrapped a foreleg around Grif’s neck. “Even in Zebrica, you looked out for me, tried to protect me. I’d be a poor friend not to see that.”
Grif pulled Vital into a hug. “Because you hold out even when dropped in a hell hole. You never let anything change who you are, and I envy that about you. Never let that change.”
“I make no promises,” Vital said mischievously. “But I suppose I can be bothered to put in the effort.”
The two remained in companionable silence for a few moments. Then Vital spoke again.
“Grif?”
“Yes, Vital?”
“Would you kindly ask your daughters to stop nibbling at my hooves?”
The atmosphere in the dank underbelly of the castle was subdued as a ring of candles bobbed and flickered. A makeshift table had been formed with the assistance of a few crates and a slab of granite nicked from the quarry. The shadowy figures of many a Pony stood just beyond the ring of light as one particular Unicorn with a sea-streaked mane of blue and green and a golden cream coat knocked his horseshoes officially on the surface to draw the gathering’s attention. His flanks were marked by the image of a bulging notepad, a pen, and a series of coins poking out from beneath.
“All right, all right, everypony. Settle down,” he said in the nasally accent of a well-practiced hustler. “The unofficial official betting pool is open.” His horn glowed and a glowing chart materialized in midair. “Our first round of bets will focus around the song list Blue Eyes will choose for Vital Spark’s wedding. Minimum bet is five bits. Return rate is one hundred percent on investment, should you guess correctly. The more songs you guess, the greater the return. For the sake of avoiding fixed betting and an obvious loss on our part, you will only be allowed the use of one song from previous occasions each.”
The details dictated immediately appeared on the board.
“Our second betting pool has to do with something far more important.” He grinned devilishly. “Will Vital Spark’s first self-induced heart song take place on his wedding day? Lowest bet is twenty bits.” His flanks pulsed and glowed as he stared hungrily at the crowd. “Let the betting begin.”
Fox Feather stepped forward. “I bet thirty bits that Vital Spark will have a self induced Heart Song.” She smiled. “I know it’s vague, but you said song list. I want to say Genre, Songs from Earth, five bits.”
“No title, no bet,” the Pony said as he jotted down her first bid on a scroll.
“Always worth a shot.” She chuckled. “But unless Mr. Blue Eyes starts singing songs from Equestria, it’s hard to state song titles.” She smiled sweetly. “Or are you trying to cheat us, Bookie?”
The stallion narrowed his gaze, stroked his chin, then nodded. “Fair point. Change of plans. First bet is on whether or not Blue Eyes will use any Equestrian or Gryphic songs as part of the wedding. A new third betting pool is on which of the previous songs he’s sung will come first in his lineup. The third pool opens with no less than fifty bits minimum. High risks, but high rewards, if you get it right.”
“Hundred and twenty bits.” Black Rook made his way through the crowd and placed the sack down. “He’ll sing an earth song, smooth number no one’s heard yet, and… it’ll be a duet.” Rook grinned. “What do you say? Willing to take that bet?”
“Private pools, as you know, Rook, are to be made outside the public bids. If you want to discuss your wager further, I’m available at the usual place. I’ll even have a round waiting for you at the bar.”
Fox Feather grinned. “Ten bits that he’ll have only Earth Songs sung.”
“You got it, sweetheart.”
“Well, Bookie, last I checked, you don’t control all the gambling in the fort. I’m putting a bet out for anypony here who’s willing to risk it.” Rook looked around. “Last I checked, there are several Gryphons who you left out of your little shindig. This pool’s coming from the compound.” He shoved the sack forward. Its cords had been enchanted and bound in an intricate knot that looked suspiciously like a beak.
Bookie pursed his lips as he stared at the bag, then back at Rook. The soldier coughed and nodded as he motioned expectantly with a hoof. A few moments later, Bookie shrugged and let out a noncommittal grunt. “If they’re willing to foot the bill, I’ll host the bid. All funds earned will go to the compound, save for a nominal hosting fee to be negotiated at a later date with the designated representatives.”
“Good colt.” Rook nodded. “Next time, you may want to arrange your little get-togethers with the Gryphon bookies,” he whispered. “You know gambling’s cultural to them, right?”
“Why else do you think I keep my business at the castle? We don’t interfere with each other’s turf, and Ponyville’s neutral ground.” He stroked his chin again. “But, we might be able to enter into further negotiations, assuming there’s enough … mutual interest.”
“Anyway, I need to be heading out. Oh, and put this on Vital Spark getting his heart song,” Rook said, tossing another sack of bits on the table as he left.
Bookie grinned. “Pleasure doing business with you, Rook.” He quickly swiped the sack off the table, then looked at the shadows. “Next!” he barked.
Grif sat in his office with claws tented as he waited for the delivery he’d been called to take possession of. With secrecy being of utmost import, he’d done his best to stir up some excitement to keep everyone's heads looking the other way. Drop a small rumor to the right bookie, and several betting pools were viable to open up with Ponies and gryphons collectively pushing each other out of the way to put money down. He knew Rook could be trusted to stir the pot. And Bookie knew better than to cross them. He waited, the office illuminated by a single small candle to draw as little attention as possible.
He was beginning to worry when a knock sounded at his door to the all-too-familiar tune of Shave and a Haircut.
“Enter,” Grif said.
The door opened slowly, and a black pegasus walked in. A larger briefcase was cuffed to the base of his wing.
“Are you here for a reason?” Grif asked.
“I’m here about the place,” the stallion responded.
“Which place?”
“Most magical place on Equis.”
Grif nodded and tapped the anti-eavesdropping crystal. As soon as the spell locked, the stallion evaporated in a plume of green fire, replaced by a rusty red changeling. This drone was smaller than the standard, with larger eyes.
“It’s finished, then?” Grif asked as the Changeling uncuffed the briefcase and set it down on his desk.
“We’ve done the tests and finished mass production. This is the master, as requested.” The drone snapped the case’s locks open and raised the lid, then turned it to Grif. Inside lay a disk-shaped case, inside which Grif knew lay Equestria’s first ever full-length animated film. The letters B a B were printed on a label on the center.
Grif grinned and lifted the filmcase to examine it more carefully. “The length?” he asked.
The drone nodded. “Down to the exact second.”
“And the sound?”
“We synched it to a hair’s breadth. No one will be able to tell. We’ve sent it out to theaters all over Equestria with the instructions you specified. Everything's set for the premier. Work’s already begun on our next project. Budget reports will be arriving in a fortnight. We have gone a little over budget, though.”
“It shouldn’t matter. If this does well, we’ll all come out ahead. Send my regards to everyone, and compliment them on a job well done. I’m sure your mother is very proud of all of you.” Grif held the film as the drone left, feeling the excitement in his veins almost vibrating through it. Tomorrow, he’d send a message to Pinkie. Then he’d deliver a discreet invitation to certain families and their foals for a private screening. Phase two was complete. It was time to see if phase three would pay off. HIVE Animations’ future depended on it.
Later that afternoon, Pensword knocked on Grif’s door. He clutched a folder under his good wing. Phase one and two of his own plans had been completed, but phase three would require travel out to Manehattan. Hopefully, his friend would approve.
“Come in,” Grif called.
Pensword pushed the door open. “I have an update for you,” he said purposefully. “Could you put on a little music?” he asked, looking pointedly at the statuette on his friend’s desk.
Grif raised an eyebrow, but as soon as Pensword closed the door, he tapped the crystal. A moment later, they were in total safety.
“What's this about, Pensword?” Grif asked.
Pensword laid the files on the desk. “I’ve finished running the projections and completed the base studies. It seems the demand for pens, paperclips, and staplers will be a lot higher than anticipated, just based on Ponyville and Canterlot Ponies’ reactions to the survey alone. I’m almost willing to forego the Manehattan questionnaire and start construction of the plant in Dream City. The land already belongs to me, so all that needs done is to get the machinery and buildings built. And I am not changing the location of the plant. New Unity doesn’t have the land cleared, and if I try building anywhere else, I risk Blue Blood or like-minded nobles trying to cut in and shut me out of earning a profit. I’d like your opinion, though. Should I still follow through with the third survey or move right to construction?”
“I’ll tell you to go with the third test. The amount of money we’re talking about for the factories is quite substantial. Better to measure nine times, cut once, as the carpenter does.”
“Thank you. I’ll be on the next train after the wedding, then. And if I can gather enough materials, I might swing back home by Fillydelphia for a fourth. That means a week where I’ll be out of town.” He grimaced and his ears twitched in annoyance as his body suddenly stiffened. “Sorry,” he grunted. “Wings itch, and I still have to wear this cast. It feels so strange coming back, and this place hasn’t moved beyond a day or less between our adventures. It makes me wonder and worry a little about Shawn, though. And you, to be honest.”
“Oh?” Grif asked. “Care to clarify?”
“Well, so much time passed in Zebrica, and yet … we’ve come back and projects that would have been finished over that year we were gone aren’t, because we arrived back the day we left. Don’t get me wrong. It’s nice and all. It’s just ... taking time to reconcile that. By the way, you didn’t start anything before we left, did you?”
Pensword turned his head and rolled his eyes as he addressed thin air. “Not now. I’m talking to a Clan leader. Wait your turn, like all the other Gryphons.” He sighed. “Sorry. The Ghosts are starting to realize that my usual guards aren’t here to keep them in Line, so I need help from a trained hunter. That’s another reason I came to see you.”
“You need a way to keep spirits away?” Grif clarified.
“Yes, because I don’t have the old ways right now. Gryphons don’t follow Thestral manners. I need Gryphon manners.”
“Have you tried salt lines?”
“And how do I keep them away while I’m outside my quarters?” Pensword countered.
“Part of the issue with that is you can’t use invocation,” Grif pointed out. “Thestrals have no named deity. That means there’s no one you can ask for help.”
“I know,” Pensord muttered. “No, I will not hire you to be my bodyguard,” he snapped testily at the air. “You pay me beaks to get messages to the living. I don’t pay you. How do I even go about paying the dead, anyway?” He paused to listen and scowled. “No,” he said adamantly. “No free messages.”
“In the name of Zephyrus, lord of the West Wind, and by his great and terrible power, I compel all spirits to leave this room right now or face his eternal wrath!” Palpable power grew in the Gryphon’s words as he spoke. Pensword could almost feel the compulsion to leave the room on him. A breathy sigh filled the air. In an instant, the two of them were alone.
Pensword sighed in relief. “Oh, sweet silence.”
“Ping has some training in dealing with spirits. She might be able to offer you something that could help,” Grif pointed out.
Pensword nodded. “Thank you. I believe you’re right. Usually, one with my gift will have a guide or guardian animal. I now realize the need for said guardian. I just hope I can find or earn one soon. Do me a favor and don’t go trying to banish mine by mistake, when it comes.”
Grif chuckled and nodded. “Anyway, this is a little off topic, but I’m having a bit of a party next Friday for the girls and a few other foals. I would appreciate it if you can send Moon River and the boys. And feel free to send any other Thestral foals the clan might want to. I have something special planned.”
“Can it be foals at heart?” Pensword asked. “To be honest, I’ve missed my family, and the thought of being with them got me through some of those silent horrible days in that viewing chamber.”
“If you keep it to just your family.” Grif nodded. “I need to have enough room for everyone, after all.”
“I think the Thestrals will be very happy to let their foals come, if they know one of the new clan leaders will be there to help keep them in line.” He paused and tapped his chin. “I estimate about eighty Thestral foals total.”
“I’ll be sure to be ready.” Grif chuckled.
“That sounds good.” Pensword blinked slowly. His head drooped. He snapped awake a few moments later, after Grif Cleared his throat loudly. The commander blushed. “Um, could I maybe take a nap in your office? Just a small recharge?”
Grif chuckled. “Go ahead. I have to step out for a bit.”
Pensword smiled gratefully and shuffled over to a padded chair. He settled on its cushion and easily dropped off to sleep as Grif stepped soundlessly out of the room.
“Well, Trixie, is the great and powerful ready to give in on the great cake testing challenge?” Vital teased as the pair sat in a booth at Sugarcube Corner. A glamour had been enough to get most of the other Ponies to leave her be and not notice the sudden addition of wings. Pinkie insisted on her lowering it around the eyes for the sake of seeing her smile, though, just once. Pinkie always got her way.
“How many types of cake can there be?” Trixie asked.
“Oh, Trixie, you poor unfortunate soul.” Vital shook his head. “There are as many cakes as there are Ponies in Equestria, I should think.”
Pinkie snorted. “Silly Vital Spark. There’s way more cake than that in the world. She slammed a tray on the table loaded with ten different slices of cake. Spice, red velvet, chocolate, ice cream, banana cream, tres leches, and other scents wafted to both customers’ nostrils, setting their mouths to salivating.
Vital Spark smiled as he levitated a fork with a bite of cake in front of the Alicorn’s muzzle. “Ladies first.”
Trixie eyed one of the banana cream slices and bit it, chewing thoughtfully. She swallowed and shrugged. “Banana was never really my thing.”
“And what is?” Vital asked.
“Trixie has always had a soft spot for peanut butter,” she admitted.
Pinkie gasped. “Why didn’t you say so in the first place?” She was gone in a whirlwind, and a literal tornado of pink bobbed and spun to pick up the trays surrounding the area and get them back to the kitchen. A few minutes later, a rich brown slice of cake was laid before the pair. The scent of peanuts, cinnamon, and just a hint of nutmeg permeated the immedate area. The steam literally rose up to Trixie’s nostrils and waved tantalizingly beneath them, before plunging in.
“Did you just have this ready?” Trixie asked, shocked.
“Nope!” Pinkie grinned.
Trixie looked to Vital, her face a mask of confusion.
“There’s an old saying here in Ponyville, Trixie. We’ve stood by it ever since Pinkie came here.” He chuckled. “The saying reads thus.” He cleared his throat. “It’s Pinkie Pie. Don’t question it.”
It took Trixie a moment before she nodded and turned to the cake. Taking a fork in her magic, she proceeded to cut a piece and take a bite. Her eyes closed, and she let out a groan of pleasure at the flavor.
“Say, Pinkie, could you whip up a peanut butter cheesecake, too?”
Pinkie grinned. “Coming right up!” She zipped off and returned with a peanut butter streusel topping a peanut butter cookie coating icing in one hoof and the previously requested cheese cake in the other, slathered in a fine chocolate ganache on top.
Vital grinned. “You like?”
Trixie took a bite and her eyes brightened. She nodded happily.
“Got any other peanut butter desserts for us, Pinkie?”
“Do I!” The next half hour was spent trying every variety of peanut-butter-based sweet under the sun. From cookies to brownies to blondies to cakes to ice cream and more. By the time the pair were finished, both had somewhat distended stomachs.
“That,” Vital barely suppressed a belch, “was amazing.” He sighed contentedly and rubbed his stomach. Pinkie had already come up with a list of treats that would suit the pair of them and complement the main focus of peanut butter that Trixie loved so much.
“As if you’d let me back out now,” Vital teased. He leaned over and kissed her.
“As if you’d back out of this,” she returned when they seperated.
“Oh, there’s a lot that’s changed about me from when I first came here,” he said with a smirk as he yanked her closer with his magic. “And I’m looking forward to showing you just how much, after we take our vows.”
Trixie shivered in delight. “Maybe we should elope.”
“You know the others would kill us, if we did that. Besides, I already got Grif’s word that he’d come. I can’t go around his back like that, after invoking something so sacred to his culture.” He leaned into her ear and blew gently. “It can wait a little longer. Just a little.”
“So … it was measurements next?” Trixie asked breathlessly.
“You think we’ll be able to fit, after all that cake?”
Trixie laughed. “Well, I think I’ll do just fine. You, though….”
Vital flailed dramatically. “Oh, how could you be so cruel?”
It was past midnight, and Pensword stood before the secret bookshelves within the vault located in his hidden study. The Titanic book slid neatly home to join its fellows from the human world, and he smiled contentedly at the sight. A place for everything, and everything in its place.
He strode through the plinths to view the familiar models of major ships and steam engines. Memories of his human youth blew in a flurry of images and sounds that were soon answered by the time he spent as a foal. For every moment spent assembling models, another moment of sharpening arrows and marking trails followed. For every train ride, a raft down the river. And so it went. With memories of church came the hymns of the night and the moon. With his love of history came his respect for the hunt.
He could almost smell the meadows from both homes, feel the warm summer sun on his fur, a gentle breeze playing through his mane. He took a deep breath and smiled at the scent of the wet grass and the familiar scent of poppies.
And then he took another breath. Then a suspicious sniff. His brow furrowed as he opened his eyes. The orbs soon widened at what he beheld. A whole portion of wall had disappeared from the chamber. In its stead, a long green blanket of pristine wildgrass stretched as far as the eye could see. In the stead of sky, a great whiteness stretched above and around the meadow.
Most surprising of all was just who stood smiling to greet him.
“Mom?”
“Hello, my little Pensword,” she said with a gentleness he remembered only too well, after taking a day of abuse at the school or a long day of practice in the town barracks.
“Mommy,” he cried out in a moment of uncharacteristic immaturity. He took a halting step toward the void, then pulled himself short. She stood among the grass. There was only one place he knew of that this could be. She was in the glens. And like it or not, he could not follow her there. “I … I’ve missed you.” He took a shuddering breath to calm himself. “I … suppose this means you’re ready to move on. Are you here to show me how I will find my Spirit animal, before you go?”
Moonbeam shook her head slowly. “That is not my mantle.” She sighed. “I’m afraid I must ask your forgiveness, my son.” She smiled weakly, and Pensword perceived the bags that hung under her eyes.
“For what?”
“We lied about our reasons for staying, at least in part. It is true, we wished to remain until your second child was born to ensure the line of succession, but that is not the real reason we wheedled for time.” She sighed. “We sought to protect your daughter as well, and that required time to complete. We have done what we can in that regard. It will not hold off the nightmare forever, but it will be enough to give you the time you need to heal.” Her legs began to tremble, but she remained firmly in her place. “The second task has consumed much of our essence. It is now my responsibility and my burden to pass that task on to you.”
“Is this your real unfinished business, Mother?”
“In a way.” She huffed and looked up at her son. Her eyes were bloodshot. “A great injustice was done in our home, Pensword. And you righted that wrong, a deed for which our village will be forever grateful. However, the spilling of such blood, especially innocent blood, invokes great power, power that is easily twisted without the proper guidance to control it.” She raised her hoof and pointed to the far wall, where blueprints of the Titanic and framed copies of the founding documents of the United States filled the space. Stone, frame, and parchment faded away to reveal a familiar field filled with blood-red flowers.
“Look upon it now, my son, without the blossoms. Look deep within the earth, and see what lies in wait.” She spread her wings and a great shadow spread out from beneath her. It swept rapidly over the floor, expanding and widening with its advance until it lay over the entirety of the field. The flowers disappeared at its touch. The ground became transparent. And there, beneath, bound by the incorporeal roots, lay a horror Pensword had only heard of in legend.
A sudden chill filled the room as its lights darkened. Pensword shuddered. He could hear a sound he had hoped never to experience again after facing his evil clone. Bone rattled and clacked. Harsh, unyielding teeth snapped, slathered, and gnawed. Low growls and thrashing snarls reached his ears as the teeming horde of creatures keened and wriggled like worms in their prison of root and soil. Patches of flesh and fur clung to the creatures, some in gray, some in black, some in a gruesome rust and festering yellow. Long whip-like segments of bone slashed with barbed sword-like ends, crashing, sawing, thrusting, anything to make an opening. Their claws flexed and tensed, curling with the desire to clutch, to rip, to tear. Their eyes were hollow sockets that glowed with the baleful fires of a relentless hunger as shrivelled tongues licked their wicked fangs. A charnel house reek filled his nostrils. He stared not into the welcoming wings, but the cruel and unrelenting jaws of death.
And the teeth were stirring.
Pensword hissed and bore his fangs, then regained control of himself. “I … I fell asleep on top of them,” he finally said. After a few seconds, he managed to tear his gaze away from the gruesome sight and back to his mother. “You’re telling me my home, our town, is filled with bone ferrets?” He shuddered again. His stomach churned. “Please tell me their numbers are dwindling.”
Moonbeam shook her head. “They are a form of corrupted wild magic rarely seen in these lands. You know this. We used our combined strengths to try to hold them back. Even then, it wasn’t enough, not alone. We had to reach out to the beyond, where the others waited. With their aid, a seal was formed, one we had hoped to be able to pass on quickly. But the seal was formed using the only thing that could harm them, the very thing that birthed them in the first place.”
“Your blood,” Pensword whispered.
Moonbeam nodded. Her mane had lost its luster. “I haven’t much time left,” she said. “The seal must be maintained by the bloodline of the land’s caretakers. And right now, that means you, my son. Any that seek to control this land must take on this burden willingly, and by a contract of blood to transfer the seal.” She closed her eyes in pain. “Luna knows the rituals,” she grunted. “They will remain bound so long as the field endures. It is our hope that a means will be devised to destroy them. But as you know, without the Moon’s name, we cannot call upon her properly anymore.” She sighed. “It is one more regret, but one that cannot be resolved at this time. We must do this quickly, Pensword, so that I can enter the glens properly, and so that you may take on this mantle. It will not interfere with your life, nor your strength. Simply living is enough.” Her sides were wracked by terrible coughs. When the spasms ended, she smiled weakly.
“How do I take on the mantle?” he asked.
“The blood ritual we performed at your adoption is still binding. You are our child in spirit, and our blood flows through your veins.” She hobbled to the edge of the barrier between the realm of spirit and the land of the living. “I need to embrace you, my son, one last time.” Tears stood in her eyes. “Before I become hollowed into a malevolence. Only then will I be released to pass on with the others, and Grif’s fears will be laid to rest.” Her whole body trembled now as the shadow retreated and the window into Mountainside Falls faded.
Pensword moved quickly but carefully. He knew to step hoof into the glades would be reckless, and possibly deadly. That was a barrier the living were not meant to cross until the proper time, save in the direst of circumstances. The moment he got close enough, his mother reached with her wings and pulled him into a fierce embrace.
Pensword’s body went rigid. Fear licked at him as doubt whispered it was already too late, that she had already succumbed, and now sought his blood.
Those doubts proved unfounded. There was no draining, neither of blood nor of magic or energy. Instead, he felt a gentle warmth flooding him. And for this one moment, he could have sworn she was really there, not some phantasm, but an actual manifestation of flesh and blood filled with the love he had cherished as a foal. The cool grass tickled at his fetlocks. He didn’t know how or why this was being allowed, but he wasn’t about to question it.
He didn’t know how long the embrace lasted. It could have been a few seconds. It could have been an eternity. Regardless, for him, it was too short. Still, he knew he had to let her go when he felt her membrane sliding off his back with her hooves. Pensword followed suit reluctantly and stepped back into his vault, into the realm of the living. He looked on his mother, and she beamed at him. A silver aura surrounded her now as the sickly appearance fell away to reveal the mare he had known in the prime of her life, the proud mother who had first wished him well when he departed his village so many years ago. She was strong, healthy, young. She was at peace.
Moonbeam smiled serenely at him. He blinked, and the mare was suddenly a good three Pony lengths away. Pensword watched her retreat and raised a hoof in farewell as the wall began to encroach upon the window that had allowed him access, if only briefly, to his mother. The mare was little more than a wavering figure now, but more had walked up to join her, and as they embraced, Pensword knew his family had come to welcome her to their rest. He could barely see two smaller shadows waving at him, and he chuckled softly to himself.
At last, the window closed, leaving Pensword standing alone in the chamber. He stood there in quiet contemplation for a time as he bid his family their final farewell, until he could join them. After an appropriate amount of time had passed, he turned and took his leave, pausing only long enough to look up at the key stone that marked the arch over the door. Two crossing flowers had been carved and painted into the keystone. The left blossom was the familiar red poppy. The right one made him gasp. The pure white blossom he had seen in the glens now stared down at him.
“Thank you, Mother,” he said softly. Then he passed under the arch and back into his study. There was much to think about, much to organize, and much he would need to discuss with his wives and Grif. But first and foremost, he needed to record what had transpired. He strode to his desk, removed a leather-bound volume, dipped his quill in its inkwell, and began to write.
Rarity’s voice rang loud and clear as she sang in harmony with her fellow performers. She looked positively fetching in her green sweater and bow tie. She swayed in time with Big Mac, Toe Tapper, and Torch Song, their combined voices rising in a crescendo.
“Got the music in you!” they finished.
“Oh, that was wonderful, darlings!” Rarity cheered. “I think we’ve finally got our first song prepared. And just in time for Vital Spark’s wedding, too.”
“Oh, my stars. I still can’t believe you managed to book a gig for us at the reception,” Torch Song gushed.
“Eeyup,” Big Mac agreed.
“You’re sure they’re okay with a little group like us joining in? I mean, I heard Blue Eyes is supposed to be making an appearance. Do you really think people will want to listen to us after him?” Toe Tapper asked.
“Darling, I know they will. Besides, if you’re really that concerned, I can certainly find out whether it would be possible for us to be the warm up act. Then there won’t need to be any concern over getting upstaged.”
“Changing the lineup is all well and good, but I have a far better one,” a familiar voice intoned.
“Discord,” Rarity said in a remarkably controlled tone, “if you’re going to make a suggestion, the least you could do is actually stand in front of us to make it, instead of being a floorboard or curtain or whatever it is you’re impersonating this time.”
“Impersonate? Oh, please, Rarity. I usually save those for entertainment at parties. My Celestia impression always makes a killing.” The colors seemed to drain out of immaterial space, and there was Discord in all his splendor with a multicolored rainbow wig and a fake gold horn attached to a plastic headband. They vanished with a snap of his fingers. “Now then, about that idea I mentioned.”
“You realize it’s rude to eavesdrop on a private practice, correct?”
“And since when did that stop me from having fun and helping my friends? That is what friends are supposed to do, aren’t they? Help each other, make selfless sacrifices, all the usual heroic nonsense? Really, I only want to help make Vital Spark’s wedding special for him and his bride-to-be,” the Draconequus said.
“By spicing things up? Last time you got involved in a party, the only reason it went right is because my husband had you on a tight leash.”
Discord narrowed his gaze. “Yes, a leash he still holds,” he muttered resentfully. Then he bounced back with a grin. “But that’s all water under the bridge, my dear. I’m contrite as a kitten and playful as a puppy, with all the cuteness to match,” he said as he split apart to appear as the two animals in question, both of which fixed Rarity with the full effects of their gaze.
Rarity harrumphed. “Do you really think that would work after I’ve had to deal with my sister and her friends asking me favors for all this time?”
Discord poofed back to his usual form with a sour expression as he laid back on a cotton candy cloud. “I suppose I should have expected that,” he admitted. “All joking aside, we need to talk.” He snapped his fingers and a magical dome appeared around them. “There. Observation magic and other forms of eavesdropping should be nullified, and no one can see us while we converse. I expect the exact contents of this meeting to remain absolutely confidential, particularly my involvement in it,” he said as his eyes stretched to peer at each of the singers in question. “Do I make myself clear?”
“And why should I do a thing like that?”
“Because the thing I am about to do would be considered unchaotic in the extreme.” He shuddered and gagged as he pointed down his throat. “I am about to give you a new song that you may use for the wedding, one that will resonate both with Vital Spark and young miss Lulamoon. As you know, harmony and I don’t exactly get along.” His head turned an unpleasant shade of green. “However, I can stomach it this once, for his sake,” he said as he reached into a portal and rummaged around. “Now let me see.” He pulled out a unicycle, a bicycle bell, a clown horn, a blow horn that promptly blew Rarity’s mane askew with the force of its blast, a bucket of cold water that froze in mid-air and fell upward, and a book with a large bomb on its cover that laughed as he pulled it out.
”Free, at last! I can’t wait to possess the rest of that–”
“Oops,” Discord said quickly as he threw it back into the portal and its wails trailed off into the silence.
“Discord,” Rarity growled.
“Now, now, Rarity. Hold your horses.” He grinned. “Little though they may be. Aha!” He crowed in triumph and removed a folder from the portal, which promptly closed with a loud belch. “There we are. This music comes from Vital Spark’s ancestral homeland. It will also speak to young Miss Lulamoon.”
Rarity took the proffered sheet music in her magic to review it. “But this song calls for three female vocalists. And where are we supposed to find a violinist with enough skill to play this on such short notice?”
“Fiddlesticks,” Discord said as he waved his hand. “You’ll find the one, if you listen well enough.” He winked at her. “As for the rest of the accompaniment, I’m certain you can find any number of Ponies that would be all too glad to take the role of backup singers. I’d offer my own, but let’s face it, your songs and I don’t exactly mix.” He doffed an imaginary cap that materialized in his hand shortly after and promptly spat out a cloud of makeup that left Rarity just as glamorous as he had been before the air horn ruined her look. “Now don’t say I haven’t done anything for you.” He smirked and pulled open a door out of thin air. “Ta ta now. I’ve other appointments to keep. Places to go, chaos to spread. My duties are quite vast, you know.” He slammed the door shut behind him and it disappeared in a flash of white light that vaporized the barrier and rose high above the forest. The four Ponies blinked to clear the spots from their eyes as they adjusted to the aftermath of the Draconequus’ visit.
Somewhere in Canterlot, a blind Pony beggar blinked and rubbed his eyes. For some reason, they had begun to water. A few moments later, he perceived the last remnants of … something in the distance. A few more blinks and rubs soon revealed two blurry shapes that gradually came into focus.
What … were these things? What was he … see … ing?
The stallion’s whoop of joy could be heard from the top of Mount Cantercorn to the slums and beyond. Somewhere in the realm of Chaos, Discord chuckled with wicked glee. “Tit for tat. See how you like that little wrinkle, Destiny.”
Hammer Strike hummed to himself as he finished writing. The translated copy of the latest approved chapter in the book on thaumaturgy was finally ready. Grif would be glad to have more to study. All the time travelling and invasions had left him with little time to focus on his translations. Of course, it didn’t help that he had to make the decision exactly which content would be deemed all right for consumption. The original volume was wonderful at explaining every little thing that could be done, but some of the things it contained were clearly meant to be filed away as ‘never to be tested.’
Then there were the ones that he did deem safe, but were less efficient. As such, he devised alternates and wrote them down to overwrite the originals for study. His portal system worked off the concept of breaching the current reality’s edge to reach the next. Instead of determining the destination at its alternate spatial point, he ended up connecting it to a spatial point in the current reality, though this particular technique required an anchor to work with, and a definite one at that.
Traveling through time with it required a recent creation in order to tie his travel back and forth to when it disappeared from the timeline for a moment. In terms of going back however, if the object existed for some time, he had to guess a point, and it seemed to be a poor idea to use that concept.
To be honest, it was a major risk, and he wasn’t even certain if it would work fully. He relied mostly on the fact that Father Time was keeping an eye on things. Otherwise, he would have gone through much more tests.
He sighed to himself as he ensured the ink was dry before closing the book. He would have to look further into some of those other chapters, perhaps see what else he could come up with for the future. They certainly had the time now, and he hoped that time would remain undisturbed, at least until the next Tuesday.
Pensword sighed, leaned back in his chair at his main office, and tried to doze. The operative word being tried. All chances at success in that endeavor were broken as a shrill cry sounded in his ears. He jerked out of his chair, dropped to the floor on all fours, and growled at the intruder that wavered by his door. The aura of discontent was palpable as it glared condescendingly at him. Yet another Gryphon ghost had come to demand his services, and this one hadn’t shown so much as a shred of decency.
“What do you want?” Pensword demanded.
“The complete surrender of Princess Celestia and Princess Luna to my bloodline, as it should have been during the last Gryphon War.”
Pensword gaped at the specter’s audacity. “Do you know who I am?” he finally asked, not angrily, but in confusion.
“My messenger, meaning your bloodline will be safe from our retribution, if you follow my orders,” he said haughtily.”
Pensword continued to stare. “You are no Gryphon I saw during the Third Gryphon War.”
“That is because I watched you disgracing our lands and fortress since the failed first war. How could creatures so weak and vastly inferior beat us?” He shook his head. “No matter. The past is the past. This is the present. You will write and declare the surrender of your lands to my bloodlines immediately.”
“As if!” Pensword growled back. “Besides, you cut in line! You have to wait your turn.”
“A general and king waits only for the Emperor,” the Gryphon countered.
“A King whose emblem I do not recognize!” Pensword shouted back. This is the modern day. You will not dictate terms to me!” His gaze flicked over the other ghosts. Each shrank back from the spirit. That meant he must have had quite the temper in life. And that made him all the more dangerous in death, should that anger consume him. “Besides, he answered more coolly, “I don’t know who your bloodline is. There is no way of putting any Gryphons on Equestria’s Throne.”
The king grinned as he purred, “Oh, but that’s the sweet part of it. You see, my only daughter was taken as a Bloodfeather. That means the rightful king of the Gryphon Kingdom of Northern Belle Rivières presides over that hovel of a fortress you call a compound. He’ll require some proper guidance, of course, but he’ll do for a replacement in the short term.”
“He would never accept that.” Pensword shook his head. “You have some nerve. And while I would respect that normally, you are ignoring the written and spoken rules of how I hold these courts. I give utterance to the words of those that need to speak. You are trying to use me to further political goals and machinations that are easily fifteen hundred years old, if not more so. Times have changed, and any claim you or your bloodline may have had on Equestria as it is currently constituted was surrendered long ago in an official contract signed by the blood of the king whose power and authority over the lands here came directly from the Emperor himself. And the Emperor acknowledged the veracity of the documents. You have been overruled, whoever you are. I will not do as you wish.”
The Gryphon let out a feral snarl as the temperature in the room began to drop. “Then I will not leave your side, nor give you a moment’s rest, until you accede to my demands.” He sneered. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed, little Pony. Jorund isn’t guarding you anymore, and your family is gone. You have no means of banishing me. I hold the power here, prey. Either you carry out my command—.” He cast his gaze disdainfully about the room. “—Or you’ll join those that have belittled themselves by groveling to prey.”
Pensword struggled to regain his composure. Looking at the Gryphon’s smug expression didn’t help, so he decided to busy his eyes by following the curves and make of the warrior’s armor. It was certainly a far cry from the garb he’d seen the creatures wearing during the Third Gryphon War. The metal was well crafted, with an almost orange tint to it. Could it have been forged from orihalcum? The light continued to catch on the breastplate as it danced over the curves and ridges to expose a curious symbol nestled in a large ovular depression.
Pensword narrowed his gaze and pulled out a scroll and inkwell.
“Good. You’ve come to your senses. A wise decision, little Pony,” the king preened.
Pensword ignored him and began to draw the oval. The Gryphon continued to narrate his demands, sprinkling them liberally with gloating and the occasional strut or polishing of his talons against his feathers. So absorbed was Pensword in his task that he never noticed how deafeningly quiet the room had become.
‘Perhaps Grif will be able to understand this symbol,’ he thought.
The Pegasus’ quiet musings were soon shattered by a shriek of outrage that emanated mere inches from behind. The unnamed king was not pleased.
“You insolent little creature,” he snarled. “Not only do you ignore my commands, but you dare to steal my armor’s design to better your own forces! This is not to be borne!”
“Better my…? Are you mad? Your precious armor became obsolete millennia ago. Your people and mine have evolved far beyond those times. I have no interest in such a piece, save perhaps for its historical significance. I’ve been to many a museum and archive, both in Equestria and your empire, but I have never seen that symbol before. I find it most intriguing.”
“Obsolete? Intriguing?” A dark aura began to surround the Gryphon.
“They are hurtful words, but true ones,” Pensword replied. “Such is the nature of war and time. They are constantly evolving. Many of these spirits you’re so keen to denigrate can tell you exactly what I did to your precious tactics when I stormed and took your fortress in the Western Kingdom without losing a single soul. I said it before, and I will say it again. Your time is past, and you are no threat to me. I am best friends of the Avatar of Winds. Your allies’ descendents speak my name in hushed whispers. To your people, I am the Demon. I earned that title, regardless of what you and your pompous pigeon arse may think otherwise. Can you say the same of your kingdom?”
A low growl rumbled threateningly out the spirit’s throat. “Thou art little more than a pup barking at its master’s heels.” A stale reek began to fill the room. “And disrespectful pups need to be disciplined.” He glared at the Pony, then smirked malevolently as he walked back around the desk. “But I see I’ve already made my point, little prey.” The smirk widened into a sneer. “You are right to tremble in my presence. You, a demon?” he scoffed. “Hardly.”
“I shake, because of the temperature you are altering. If you had a nose to smell, you would know I still have no fear of you,” Pensword shot back. “And if you feel so confident about us prey being unable to match you, then let me speak a name I know you’ll acknowledge. Two words, you overgrown peacock. Hammer. Strike.”
The stench of rotting flesh became oppressive as the king flared his wings. His grand visage had altered. His feathers laid flat and dull against his frame. His muscles drooped and withered. His eyes burned as his face contorted in rage. “The exception!” he hissed.
“I find it odd that you say that when you’ve seen us beat you back not once, not twice, but three separate times,” Pensword said idly as he reached casually for a small canvas bag on his desk’s corner.
“Touch that salt and you will never leave this room,” the phantasm warned in an icy tone. Frost coated the stones as Pensword’s breath steamed.
“Kill me and you won’t have a messenger,” Pensword retorted. “It seems to me you have more to lose.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t be so sure of that, little commander,” the specter rasped as the skin shriveled on his body. A gurgling laugh slopped over the room as the bird’s beak widened in a knowing grin. “I know what lies in wait. I know from whence it will strike. And I know you are not prepared.”
Pensword’s breath hissed as he took a sharp breath.
“What would happen, do you think, if someone were to nudge things along, hmm? I am not one to work with others in my hunts, but I might be willing to make an exception this time. What’s that saying you little things are always so fond of saying, ‘the enemy of my enemy...?’”
“You will not harm her!” Pensword roared and leaped to his hooves.
“Oh, but that’s the beauty of it, little creature.” The spirit’s voice grated like gravel as it echoed sepulchrally. “I won’t, but the other will. You may seek to banish me from this place, but you cannot exorcise me entirely. You haven’t the power. And as you know very well, in my culture, power is all that matters.”
Pensword whipped the salt and flapped his good wing to spread it as far as possible. The spirit flickered out of the way as the room became completely coated in frost. When he returned, the eyes were little more than sunken hollows with glowing red embers that burned with rage.
“Very well, then, creature. You have made your choice. And now I make mine.”
“I don’t think so,” a deep voice rumbled softy from behind.
The specter barely had time to dodge out of the way as the armor let out a sickening shriek. Four great gouges pulsed white and blue along his armor as the former king hissed his outrage. Heavy steps lumbered forward as a shadow materialized into the form of a great shaggy bear. “So, this is where you got off to.” The bear let loose a great yawn. “Couldn’t have picked a worse time to get in trouble. I was enjoying my hibernation.”
“You dare?” the Gryphon snarled.
“Of course.” The bear’s lips pulled up into a smirk that bore his sharpened teeth. “It’s my job. You aren’t going to lay so much as one talon on Pensword or his family. Nor will you do anything to harm them directly or indirectly while I am here.”
“And you think you can stop me?” The Gryphon laughed. “You’ve lost the element of surprise, beast.” The air grated with the hiss of the warrior’s blade as it crawled out of its sheath. “Bear, Pony, Gryphon. I don’t care what you are. All of you are beneath me. I will have what I desire, or you will all suffer my wrath.”
The bear reared up as light gathered around its frame. It let out a territorial roar and slammed down on the ground. The sword shattered and disappeared in a vapor of smoke. The room began to warm again as the frost melted, leaving droplets of water behind that froze and thawed and froze again betwixt the warring forces.
The Gryphon rolled aside to dodge the bear’s teeth. In that moment, a ripple passed over his frame to expose the crumpled indentation of a heavy hoof. Bits of ribcage jutted out from the holes in his armor. It was clear the cavity had been crushed. Pensword knew of only one, maybe two Ponies with that kind of strength.
The bear bore his teeth in a warning snarl. The light intensified as he stood on his hind legs and pointed authoritatively at the now completely defrosted wall. “Leave.”
The king glared balefully at the bear. “I will not forget this, beast.”
“I don’t expect you to,” the bear answered simply. “Now leave, before I smack you out of the castle myself.”
The Gryphon disappeared with a few choice oaths muttered in his wake to ghost into the silence.
The bear dusted off its paws and dropped to all fours again, then turned to face Pensword and smiled knowingly.
“Sorry I was so late,” a familiar voice said from behind.
Pensword jumped in the air, then fell helplessly back to the floor, since the cast prevented him from hovering. Once he’d regained his footing, his face lit up in a grin.
“Gramma!”
The old mare chuckled. “Hello, Pensword.”
“What’s going on? Why are you here? I thought the family had all moved on.”
“They have. I was … an exception, I suppose. I moved on when I was supposed to, but after you disappeared, your guardian had little choice but to go about his business until you returned. He has a tendency to follow his old mortal habits, so I had to go wake him up for you, after he went into hibernation.” She sighed and shook her head. “Would you believe I found him napping in the foothills of all places? He didn’t even bother finding a proper cave.”
The bear smiled sheepishly as Pensword eyed him incredulously.
“My—? You mean—.” Pensword noted the distinct lack of a claw on one of the bear’s paws. “But he’s the bear I killed!”
“And that death was a merciful one. I am grateful to you, little hunter,” the bear replied. “I was mad. Unlike that despicable creature’s kind, you hunted me to preserve the safety of your herd and the balance of the forest. As such, I have chosen to act as your protector. And with that office has come the ability to communicate in your speech. I am also granted the power necessary to ensure those threats of the spirit realm cannot touch you.”
Pensword blinked in surprise, then nodded slowly. “I am glad you came when you did,” he finally managed to say.
“I am, too,” Shimmering Star said. “But I should let you know, you’d best show that scroll to Grif before the day is done. It’s rather important, in case you couldn’t tell, and that Gryphon will only be too glad to see it destroyed before you have to chance to show it.”
“Yes, Gramma,” Pensword said meekly.
Shimmering Star smiled. “I must go now, Pensword. I delivered your guardian. My task is complete. I’ll let him teach you the rest himself. Farewell, Grandson. Keep moving forward. Your hunt will bring us together again in the fullness of time.”
“I … look forward to that day,” Pensword said through a choked throat.
“As do we all, Pensword.” His grandmother faded slowly, a serene smile on her face as she waved her farewell. And then she was gone.
Pensword returned his gaze to the bear. The ursine smiled and winked, then turned to address the spirits that had begun to creep back into the room through the walls and parts of the floor. “Yes, he’s gone now,” he rumbled. “Now listen closely. The commander will be taking messages and missives for the next hour and the next hour only,” he stressed. “His rates will remain the same.”
The ghost of a cub approached. “Um,” he said somewhat nervously, “May … may I touch you?”
“Five beaks,” the bear rumbled.
The cub’s face lit up in a smile. Several more cubs soon followed.
The bear chuckled and looked to his charge. “If you’re going to have to suffer, I might as well suffer with you. Besides, a few more beaks in the treasury is always welcome. Isn’t that so?”
Pensword chuckled to himself. “Silly old bear.”
“Playful, perhaps. Silly? Never,” the bear retorted with a smirk.
Preston frowned at his desk outside. The storm surge of negative emotion had been crippling, but … now it was gone. Instead, he felt happiness, relief, and perhaps a hint of disappointment. Whatever had happened must have been very tumultuous. He would have to ask the commander about it later. For now, he sent a last message to Me-Me to assure her that the situation had levelled itself and Pensword appeared to be fine.
Grif had returned from testing some of the new Weapons to find a Gryphon Albatross Cheetah waiting for him at the gate of his personal home. He was wearing the personal seal of the Gryphonian throne and held a scroll tube with the Emperor's seal in gold embossing. He smiled upon seeing Grif and flared his wings in a bow. “Avatar, I bring news from the claws of our Empress and Emperor for you and your family’s eyes.”
“May I ask why this wasn’t sent by my usual messenger?” Grif asked as he took the cylinder carefully.
“Delays with some family members falling ill, and the Empress seeing how to transport his grandparents.”
Grif nodded. “Very well. If you’d like, I’m sure we have something you could refresh yourself with in our kitchens. I’ll take a look at this in the meantime.”
“Thank you,” the messenger said. “I should warn you, though. I came with another messenger who’s reporting at Commander Pensword’s office. If you hear any commotion or alarms from that direction, it is likely due to the other messenger’s presence.”
Grif nodded. “It will be looked after,” he assured. “Rest easy. You served your lord and lady well.” He offered a smile.
“Thank you. I’ll start the return tomorrow. If any of your clan wishes to send letters back to the empire, I will carry them. As for you, I advise waiting for your usual messenger.” With that said, the messenger left the office in search of the promised food and libations.
Grif closed his door and locked it before opening the cylinder and scanning over the letter inside.
To the Avatar of the Winds.
Grif, I know you dislike that title, but it is why I am writing to you. I need you and my “father” to attend to me when the time comes. You are the most senior of the spiritual leaders in our empire, and as the time is coming that will bring about the next Generation, only the Avatar is worthy to pronounce blessings and approval for the continuation of my and my husband’s bloodline.
We had hoped you wouldn’t need to return so soon, but on the holiest day next year, we need you to bless our new cub. That’s right, Grif. I’m about to be a mother, and my time is very close. In accordance with tradition, your benediction will need to be presented on the previously mentioned day.
Grif could almost hear the smile in the next few words.
Now, mind you, the laws said you’d need to give the words. They never said if you’d need to say them aloud or read from a letter penned by your hand. So, while a part of me does wish to see you again, we both know time is not on our side for ocean travels. It’s your choice, but words must be given for the ceremony next year, whether by your mouth or the mouth of a representative.
As ever, you have my thanks and my blessing. May you find what you are looking for, and may you be open to finding the things you didn’t even know you need.
Gratefully yours,
Empress Melody, Chosen of the Winds, Prophetess, Friend.
Grif sat at his desk and scrawled out a reply. He would give her his blessing, when the time came, but he wouldn't be able to assure how that would be at this time. That would suffice for now. Once he’d gone over the contents to ensure it held the necessary script, he sealed the letter and left in search of a messenger.
Preston stopped Pensword as soon as he entered the waiting room. The Changeling’s desk was stacked with files and all manner of papers, including the commander’s scheduling book. “Sir, you should look at this,” he said as he handed the Pegasus a small letter.
The parchment was expertly folded and bore a wax seal from the Gryphon Empire.
“Dear Father,
I had to have this letter delivered to your secretary. If you are reading this, then the seal was not broken and the messenger does not know what you will be told. Remnants from my—
A blot of ink covered the space that would have said Father’s. He smiled as he continued.
—former allies still plague us. Regrettably, some have slipped into the woodwork of our empire’s staff, and we are still working to root them out. That means that sometimes those that should face justice are able to slip through legal loopholes. This Gryphon is such a one. He begged of my post as Prophetess to spare his life as my husband and Grif spared mine. He even dared to use my renounced clan name, and called you prey in hopes of appealing to a nature that I do not have. As such, I have a request for you, one that only you may accomplish for me. I have set aside a number of beaks set to be claimed upon completion.
Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to dispatch this traitor. He would be a constant threat to me and to my husband for so long as he lives. He is also a murderer responsible for the death of one of our younglings, though there was no evidence left behind to tie him to the claim. Were he to be punished by us on my word alone, it would detract from our credibility and give those who served the coup a chance to build support against us. I cannot take this request to Grif for similar reasons. He serves justice as the Avatar of winds, but justice requires evidence. I would not have the blood put on his talons, even if it would be a just action. You, however, are not under any such constraint. As such, I implore you, please, send him on his way, like you did in the past to those that harmed the ones you hold dear.
Your daughter,
Melody
Pensword’s face lost all expression as he stared bleakly at Preston. “Lock the doors,” he instructed. “Make sure no being enters until I leave.”
Preston nodded grimly. “I understand.”
Pensword took a deep breath, composed himself, then entered his office. A large red tail hawk and leopard Gryphon smiled from the larger chair that he’d put in for Grif and other larger visitors.
“It is an honor, Commander,” the messenger said as he rose from the chair. His hazel eyes were accented by dark flecks that left them with a harsh contrast that drew the eye toward the predator’s pupils.
Pensword’s muzzle twitched in an artful hint of a smile. At least Gryphons had the sense to honor his military title better than his noble one. However, the thought of such honors being heaped from such an unclean beak churned his stomach.
“I have a message for you from our empress.”
Pensword raised a skeptical brow. The messenger’s superior tone indicated a sense of pride and overbearance that clearly indicated where he thought he stood in the world. It also was a subtle insult implying Pensword was more pet than person. He would take great pleasure in what was to come.
“I was advised of your arrival. But come, the letter can wait. You must be weary from your journey. I believe I have some Gwarkala left from my last visit to Grif’s compound. He believed I might need to entertain certain dignitaries from the empire at one point or another. It seems he was right.” Pensword smiled as he reached into his desk and withdrew a decanter and two glasses. He poured and offered a glass to the messenger, then raised his own. “To the future,” he said with a smile.
“The future,” the messenger agreed. He held the glass to his beak, but waited for Pensword to swallow first.
The commander sighed as he lowered his glass to his desk and looked sincerely at the messenger. “May I show you something?” he asked.
“But of course, Commander. It would be rude of me as a guest to refuse, after such a hospitable gesture.” The Gryphon’s manner was easy going, but Pensword noted the distinct tightening of muscle around his neck.
Pensword nodded and picked up the stiletto that was his letter opener. “Come along. And do bring the letter. I can review its contents while we talk.”
The two approached the office wall, and the many pictures that lined it. The Gryphon Slayers, family photos, and various snippets of historical papers and articles were each framed and carefully preserved.
“This is what I suppose you could call my bragging wall in your culture. It is a collection of achievements that I deem important from my life and career. You are acquainted with many of my exploits, but not all. Please, feel free to review them. I know how your kind love to compare triumphs.” He smiled as he drew away from the wall and motioned with a wing. The messenger walked forward, ableit hesitantly. He kept a wary eye on the Pony as he advanced on the display.
“And your wings?”
Pensword’s expression darkened. “I assure you, those that did this to me are dead.”
An involuntary shudder passed through the messenger at the statement, and Pensword seized his chance. He lunged forward and slammed the blade through the gryphon’s breast. He used the leverage to swing up onto the Gryphon’s back and pull the weapon from his chest. Then he slammed it through the Gryphon’s ear to plunge into the ear canal and brain, while pulling the warrior bodily against the wall.
Pensword felt the rush of air as the Gryphon’s legs buckled, and he leaped off with weapon in hoof. A few seconds later, the foul scent of defecation filled the air. Pensword looked to the wall and nodded in satisfaction. No pictures had fallen in the assassination. He turned without remorse to stare at the spirit that now gaped at its own body in horror.
“But … but I was promised immunity, protection, from our own Empress and Emperor.”
“Correction,” Pensword said coldly, “your Emperor and Empress. I may call Melody my daughter, but she knows just as well as Daedalus that no Gryphon can control me. As an old poet once said of me, I am the Demon. I am vengeance given form. You had no protection. You never had any. And when I learned just who you were and what you did, what you were a part of, I could not suffer you to live.” He raised his voice and cried, “Preston!”
The door opened immediately and Pensword smirked at the sight of the messenger’s spirit recoiling. The Changeling peered respectfully at his superior. “You called?”
Pensword handed the blade over. “Send this to the camps and have it purified. It spilled the blood of a traitor and murderer. It’s a Strike blade, so it’s worth the expense.” He turned resolutely to the weapons hanging on another wall and retrieved a sword. “I have one more job to do.”
“Of course, Sir.” Preston bowed, then left with weapon in hoof.
The sword hissed as it slid free from its sheath. “You have lived without honor. And therefore, you have earned the ultimate disgrace for your kind.” The air whistled and the stones rang twice as sparks danced and bone snapped. Blood seeped slowly from the severed appendages as Pensword tossed the wings away from the corpse.
“What have you done?” the specter rasped.
“No less than you deserve,” Pensword said coldly. “Go. Your gods wait to judge you. I would say may they be merciful, but I think we both know better. Enjoy your eternal damnation, whoever you are. I know I will.”
The Gryphon strode forward, only to be blocked by a great bear standing on its hind legs. A white aura surrounded its body as it stared the Gryphon down.
“Try it,” he growled. “See what happens.”
The winds picked up as a sudden draft blew through the room. The spirit let out a wail of despair, then disappeared with the breeze. In his stead, a young Gryphoness looked up timidly at the Pony. Her head was that of a little owl, her body the ungangly form of a young snow leopard.
“Thank you,” she whispered gently.
Pensword smiled. “It’s the least I could do. But I want to do more. Your family must still be alive. I don’t do this for everyone, but given the nature of your death, it seems only fair that I offer you a free letter to be written to any living person you wish.”
“Anyone? But … I’m a Gryphon. Why?”
“Because you were innocent, and even under your laws, you shouldn’t have been harmed. I had a younger sister once who I loved very much. She had the chance to talk with me after she died. It’s only fair that you should have the same for those who have survived you.”
Tears stood in her eyes. “Thank you.”
Pensword smiled. “This will be a pleasure, little cub.”
The Gryphoness looked at the Bear. “Um, while you’re writing, can I … touch your bear?”
The guardian spirit chuckled as he dropped casually to all fours. “Why not?” he said.
Pensword smiled as the two began to talk. The youngling spoke of how she had been flying with the Gryphons on the south wind, the kindness of the many birds, and the unerring love that flowed so purely from the legendary Bird of Paradise.
“Carry on. I have one last piece of business to attend to before we begin,” Pensword said as he rooted through the contents of the dead messenger’s satchel. He discovered a money purse and an unopened scroll.
It didn’t stay closed for long.
“Dear Father,
It feels so good to use that word and not have such anger and loathing attached I’ll keep this portion brief. The beaks in that purse should prove more than enough payment for your service. My only request is that you finish the deed by burying him in a Pony grave. The Winds will handle the rest.
Now that business is taken care of, I have news of a much happier sort. In two words, Congrats, Gramps.
Pensword paused and he reread the start of that new paragraph again. “Wow. Is she serious?”
Ever the prophetess, the next sentence replied perfectly to his query.
Yes, I am serious. I’m going to have a nice healthy cub. And no, I don’t know if it will be a he or a she. For once, my gifts of prophecy are silent, and I am grateful for it. Now I get to experience the anticipation of a normal mother. It’s very exciting.
Unfortunately, this brings me to the sadder part of my letter. I know you, even if we only had the pleasure of meeting the one time, Pensword. I know you will wish to come and see the child yourself. This must not be. The political situation is still tentative here, and while there are many who are more accepting of you, after the aid you provided during the coup, tensions are tight. Write to us, and to the child. I promise that, in time, you will see the children. Daedalus and I intend to have many more. Your blessing and any advice you can mail to us on parenting will have to suffice for now.
And speaking of parenting, good luck teaching your children’s lovers and their children. The Hippogriffs shall live again, and the lands will rejoice in their coming. Until the day we can meet again, I must bid you a fond farewell. Thank you, Pensword.
With love,
Melody
Pensword smiled as he lowered the letter to his desk. He would need time to draft a proper response, but he was confident he’d be able to accomplish what she’d requested of him. Still, how odd it felt to be giving parenting advice, when he had only been a parent himself for such a short time. He chuckled, then rose into a full blown fit of healthy laughter. The world truly was a strange and convenient place, provided it wasn’t a Tuesday.
Pensword stood before the princess of the night in the curious wispy place that was the astral plane. The princess’ gaze was harsh as she smacked a hoof heavily on the insubstantial ground.
“You’ve relied too heavily on the dream training, Pensword,” she said bluntly. “Have you learned from your mistakes?”
Pensword’s ears drooped as he bowed his head. “Yes, Luna.”
“Good. While your wings are healing in the waking world, I’ll have more to show you here in the dream plane. It is time to teach you certain skills that have been lost to the ravages of time. I expect you to practice these outside of your dreams, once you have recovered enough to execute them properly. You are my Commander, or at least you were. I expect you to prove that you wish to be again, before I consider taking you farther in the election process. You have yet to appeal the ruling made against you. Time is passing, and we cannot hold off on an appointment forever.”
“I have the means devised to get the funds I need, Luna. It will just take time to get the last few pieces into place.”
“Time is something we haven’t much of, Pensword,” Luna said bluntly. She waved a wing and the dream plane rippled according to her will, creating the familiar practice fields. A series of weapons hovered and shifted about the arena. “Now choose.”
She barely reacted in time. Pensword’s wing blades swept streaks of moonlight that flowed in curtrails behind him. A full set of combat armor bedecked the warrior as he glared through his helmet.
Luna smiled behind her shield. “Excellent. You finally learned. A Nightmare won’t give you the opportunity to gather your wits or pick a weapon.” She crowed with delight as the scythe she had claimed from that mysterious mental landscape manifested to her summons.
Pensword immediately halted his approach as he eyed the weapon warily.
“Worry not,” Luna assured him. “I made sure the true scythe is not here with me.” A moment later an identical weapon appeared parallel to the first. “But I can call it to me if needed,” she warned. It vanished again with a flash of moonlight. She swung the mental manifestation a few times in her magic while Pensword took to the air using a loop de loop to dive. It was a simple matter for Luna to yank him out of the arc and directly in front of her face. She grinned and bit him on the nose.
Seconds later, Pensword found himself standing back at the starting point, staring his teacher down.
“Not bad,” Luna admitted, “but I’ve seen better from you, Pensword.” She braced herself. “I’ll be ready for you next attack now. I wonder, though. Will you be ready for mine?” Suddenly, she disappeared with a clap of thunder.
Pensword took to the air and crafted a series of shields about him. He knew what was coming next. But he also knew something Luna did not. He smirked at the encroaching cloud bank that sifted and cloyed like mist.
And then it recoiled as a roar shook the dreamscape. Silvery light blazed as the familiar shape of the great bear took form. He rose onto his hind legs, roared again, and the cloud bank completely dispelled itself. Luna descended to look over the bear as her horn lit dangerously.
“What manner of entity are you?”
“The only entity capable of entering Pensword’s dreams other than your usual invasive forces. You already know what I am, Princess. There’s no need for violence here.”
Luna rolled her eyes. “It took you long enough,” she said as the magic in her horn died away. The trio found themselves standing on solid ground again.
“I was … delayed,” the bear said by way of explanation.
“By about a thousand year jump into the future,” Pensword elaborated. “I left him behind, so he went about his business.”
“And you bear power to strike against the forces of the astral plane?”
“What are spirits but astral manifestations with greater ability to interact with the real world? My kind are especially attuned to this power as guardians of the dream lodge.”
“A thinker as well.”
“Such is the nature of the bear. I am the link to hidden truths, the guardian of the way, and the bridge which binds Pensword to his ancestors in both forms.”
“... You mean…?” Pensword asked hopefully.
“From time to time, when the need for counsel arises,” the bear clarified. “They have passed beyond. They will not return to the land of the living, but they may yet journey to the dream lodge, if the need is great enough.” The bear raised his paw. “And I am the one who decides that, not you or them, Pensword. I am a guide and a guardian. Balance must be maintained.”
Pensword sighed. “I understand.”
“Good. Your wisdom and knowledge may yet blossom again in time, as the turning of the seasons.” He chuckled. “Make sure spring comes, Pensword. And do not be slow in waking.”
Luna grinned. “I look forward to seeing what you can bring to the table.”
“You bear the armor of one who spins the night skies. The sky bear lost to you in honorable combat. For this, you earned the right to be a dream keeper and inherited that mantle. Even now, you train a cub in the ways of its mother, that it, too, may take its place spinning the skies with you and others of its kind. That is good. However, you do not know all of the dreamtime and its ways. The deeper secrets still belong to we who trained the dream walkers long ago.” The bear scraped at the ground with its paws and slowly fashioned a set of mighty horseshoes complete with a set of prehensile claws that clacked as they touched the ground. “Wear these.”
Pensword did as he was bid and slipped his forehooves into the things that were part horseshoe and part something else. Arcs of electricity sparked, jumping back and forth between them with a ferocious energy.
“You wish to protect one you hold dear on the dream plane and in the real world. These are that desire given form. Power from the mind is more than a metaphor. With these, that power can be channeled to great effect against those forces that would seek to do harm to you and your mental state. As one who bears the mantle of Dream Keeper, your princess has no need of such things. She channels well enough through her horn.” He looked more closely at the princess and narrowed his gaze. “Perhaps a little too well.”
If Luna was disturbed by the bear’s comment, she didn’t show it. “Long has it been since I have seen the claws of the bear in action.” She smiled. “It will be a pleasure to spar with them again.”
“We will both teach him to use them properly,” the bear said.
“And what am I to call you as we train him?”
The Bear rumbled with suppressed mirth as he looked with a sly sideways glance at Pensword. “Call me Dakota.”
The air rang with a resounding crash as Pensword flopped onto his back and rolled around in a fit of giggles with his wings thrashing uselessly in the air.
Extended Holiday Ch 152: A Hunting We Will Go Act 24
Pensword was quietly amazed at the, well, magic of modern magical healing. His cast had been removed, freeing his wing, and he felt not much more than some simple stiffness. While his feathers had not fully regrown, the doctors had told him that there was no way to speed their recovery. Feathers were complex, and it was better to let them grow naturally. He looked at the setting sun, surrounded by his children as they waited for the rest of the family to arrive. One Pegasus in particular was having a great deal of difficulty, and was letting everypony know it.
“Come on, we don’t have all night,” Rainbow Dash grumbled. She shifted from hoof to hoof, wings twitching, completely projecting the image of a schoolfilly about half her age.
Pensword chuckled. “Actually, Rainbow, we do. Once we’re all present, we’re going to have a tale presented by one of our historians. After that, I’m going to train you all in proper weapons use and some techniques to help with hunting. That will then be followed by a course teaching you about the different positions, offices, and functions within the Tribe. Depending on who you are, we then will be conducting interviews with each of you outsiders as a baseline, from which we can figure out what we need to work on. The next five days will then be tailored specifically to address where you each fall short, and towards helping you hone and leverage your strengths. The sixth day, or night really, you all will conduct your guided hunt.”
“Let me guess. Solo hunt on the seventh?” an Earth Pony mare asked worriedly as she rubbed her forelegs together.
“Oh, no,” Pensword assured her. “We’re not that mean to outsiders. If you want, by all means, do a solo hunt. But the Seventh is going to be a wedding ceremony for those that passed. After all, spring is on its way, and we’d rather not risk anything. If you pass, why wait?”
A pair of clattering noises brought everyone’s attention to the last pair of Unicorns to arrive as they dropped their weapons. Two Thestrals quickly helped them recover their gear and herded them in line.
“Good,” Pensword spoke as he walked to sit among the others. “Star Dancer will be telling us the story of our creation tonight.”
An indigo Thestral with silver mane a few shades darker than Pensword’s trotted forward to stand next to the fire, wings spread open. “Welcome, children and hopeful children of the night stars and the Moon. Tonight, I will speak to you about how the Thestrals received their wings and fangs, and why the night warms us but shuns others.” His gaze went to each of the newcomers slowly before speaking again. “In the beginning,” he began, and the moon slowly moved along her course watching the story unfold below her.
Grif was practically shaking as he ushered the last of the Ponyville foals he’d invited into the clan building. He’d needed the entire assembly area and a massive screen for this night to work. Fortunately, he’d managed to discreetly get a projector and projectionist willing to help his endeavor. A table had been carefully set up with little bags of popcorn and different types of candy and all sorts of things that Colgate would kill him for later. He hummed loudly, twirling his son around gently as he waited for the last of the adult guests to arrive.
“Daddy’s got something very special set up tonight,” he told the baby, grinning widely.
A loud knock sounded at the door, and all eyes turned as the heavy wooden portal swung ponderously open. Vital Spark stood in the open doorway, his bride-to-be flanking his side. The two hovered closely to one another as the stallion smiled knowingly.
“Hello, Grif. I’m proud to say I haven’t spoiled a thing.” The Unicorn winked conspiratorially. “Are we all set for tonight?”
“Everything’s been arranged. We’re just awaiting Pensword and his family. Then we can start. I really can’t wait.” Grif laughed as he passed Tazeer to the colt. “Here. Hold your godson, will you?”
“Sure. I can–.” Vital froze and blinked in surprise. “Wait, what?”
“Avalon and I have been talking, and we never really named Tazeer’s godfather. Pensword is godfather for the girls, after all. So, we talked it over and decided to award the position to you.” Grif smiled.
“I’m not going to have to put on a dress and magic up pixie wings, am I?”
“No, your job mostly involves spoiling him rotten, unless something happens to me. Then I count on you to teach him what he’ll need to know.”
“You realize I suck at doing stuff the usual Gryphon way, right?” Vital pointed out. “But hey, if he needs someone to be a role model, I suppose I can manage that without screwing it up too badly.” He smirked and winked at his friend again as he lifted the cub in his magic and levitated him through the air, much to young Tazeer’s delight.
“You need to have more faith in yourself! Now go find a seat in the back. We don’t want you blocking the view of our smaller friends, after all. Help yourself to any of the refreshments, please.” Grif sent Vital a knowing grin. “Be our guest”
Vital chortled in the most terrible Phrench accent he could manage. “Any gray stuff?”
“It’s delicious!” Grif winked as he ushered the couple on.
The doors opened to the sound of a toy drum as Pensword, Lunar Fang, Fox Feather, and a very confused Night Terror with two Thestral foals on her back walked in at the head of a host of eighty Thestral foals marching with sticks in their hooves or under their wings. Pensword was at a loss as to how he’d ended up where he was. Inigo and Cristo were beating the toy drums. And as they marched into the space, they went wild on the instruments, signalling the foals to disperse and take their places. A number of them sat, though some of them claimed perches up near the ceiling or in crevices, while others went for the food.
Pensword walked up to Grif. “Uh … yeah, I brought an army of foals, like I warned, since you agreed to allowing my wives to come. Oh, and Night Terror is on foal duty tonight.”
“They should fit well with the army of cubs and the other army of foals from Ponyville.” Grif smiled. “I don’t think you’ll find they have much opportunity to misbehave.” He reached casually into the passing foals and scooped up Moon River, then set her on his back. “I have a special surprise tonight, something I’ve been working on for some time.”
“How? How did you do that?” Fox Feather gasped as she hovered in the air to herd the children, even as she sought for the little foal. “I was—but you—you caught her with ease!” She frowned, narrowing her eyes in suspicion. “Unless ... she wanted you to catch her.”
“Who do you think taught her so much?” Grif asked. “She is my goddaughter, after all.”
Lunar Fang laughed as her distended stomach swayed in time. “Let it go, Foxy. Just let him have his way. He’ll be surprised when she turns on him like she did on me today. She’s in an odd mood.”
Grif chuckled. “Well, my friends, I have only one rule tonight: All adults must, I am afraid, sit at the back, as I do not want their height to ruin what's to come for our smaller guests. If you can find your seats, I just need to wait for Hammer Strike and Rarity. Then we can begin.”
Fortunately, they’d barely gotten settled at the rear when the aforementioned couple stepped through the doorway. “Sorry about that,” Hammer Strike started with a frown. “I got wrapped up in something.”
“Namely one of my bolts of cloth,” Rarity giggled.
Grif smiled. “Glad you could make it! If you want to find a seat at the back, we can get started.”
Pensword laughed as he took a large hoofful of popcorn from his bucket. He knew only too well that a movie was about to be shown, perhaps the first one to ever appear in Ponyville. The real question was, why invite all the foals from Ponyville? Did this have something to do with that new studio he’d heard about?
Once everybody was seated, Grif gave a signal and the lights dimmed. He moved to the front of the room with a careful step, which proved difficult with how excited he was. A spotlight found him as he made his way up and stood before the crowd.
“Monsieur's en mademoiselle's, I thank you all for taking the time from your busy schedules to join me here tonight. As many of you are aware, my good friend Taze enjoyed telling tales before he left. And I’m sure many of you have noticed it is a pastime we both shared. One such story he told me was about a man, a man in his world who made it his life's work to tell stories to children in the most joyful way he could. It is a tale from that man that I have invited you all here to hear.” He raised a halting talon. “Yes, you will hear it. But not from me, my friends.” He smirked. “Tonight, I will be showing you the story in color and sound, not only as Equestria’s first full-length animated feature, but also the first time it has ever been shown to an audience anywhere on Equis. It is my great honor to present, for your consideration, Beauty and the Beast, written by Jeanne-Marie Leprince de Beaumont, adapted to animation by Walter Elias Disney, and now readapted in Equestria by Grif Grafson Bladefeather. Enjoy, my friends.”
Grif gave a bow as the spotlight went out and the reel began to roll. He quietly made his way around the crowd to his seat, but stopped as he caught sight of someone he distinctly didn’t remember inviting.
It was a Gryphon, a parrot and some form of cat Grif couldn’t fully identify, but it was clearly predatory in nature. He was massive, easily twice Grif’s height, and broadly built. He was predominantly a lighter shade of blue, with two white red-tipped feathers tied to the side of his head. A large accordion sat against his chest, tied to a length of cord around his neck. Cautiously, Grif approached this mysterious stranger and tapped his shoulder, signaling him to follow.
The Gryphon gave a soft smile and acceded to the request.
Grif led him to a small nook off to the side, where they wouldn’t be seen or heard so long as they kept quiet. “Excuse me, but what are you doing here?” he asked. “No offense, but this was supposed to be a surprise for the kids.”
“I’m sorry.” The intruder’s gentle smile persisted. “I just can’t help myself. Where there is a good story, I tend to follow.”
“How did you get inside? Are you family with one of the guards?”
He shook his head. “My family is far from here, though they tend to visit from time to time. I simply wander toward the sounds of a story. It is my way. I hope I did not interrupt it for anyone.”
“No, just, now I have to go over a possible security breach.” Grif sighed. “Just ... keep quiet about this, okay? It’s not for the public yet.”
“Don’t worry. I can keep things to myself.” He gave a knowing smile. “I appreciate the stories both of you have given me.”
“Excuse me?” Grif asked
“Both of you. Grif and Taze. You’ve given myself and others quite the tales to listen to.”
“Taze returned home,” Grif said bluntly.
“Oh, I know.” His smile never left. “He left to allow you freedom, would you say?”
“I suppose that's right.” Grif nodded. “Have I seen you somewhere before?” he asked. He couldn’t see a clan symbol on the Gryphon. “Are you with Pensword’s bunch?”
“Where there is a story, I tend to follow. That, and you do tend to frequent Berry’s Tavern,” he replied with a faint chuckle. “I am technically not a part of Unity, though I do pop by from time to time.”
“Y—are you an embodiment?” Grif asked in an even lower tone.
His grin widened before he offered a hand to Grif. “My name is Kass, keeper of stories.”
“I didn’t think you guys had names, at least from what I’ve heard. None of the others ever gave any,” Grif commented as he took the hand in his own.
“That’s simply because we aren’t supposed to.” Kass nodded back to the theater. “Come now. I believe we’ve already missed a good few minutes of the beginning.”
“Yeah.” Grif nodded, a bit dazed as he followed Kass back to the main room.
“Now, Rainbow Miriam Danger Dash,” Pensword began, ignoring the expression Rainbow Dash gave. “As you know, you have done some things none of the others have done.” Pensword grinned just enough to show a glint of fangs. “You fought the Changelings on the day of Shining Armor’s wedding, faced down Nightmare Moon herself—and that is not even mentioning the fact that you are training to be a Wonderbolt. In recognition of all you have achieved, this is to be a special kind of interview. I want you to boast. Tell me why I, a chief, should allow you to entice my son into bringing you into my clan.”
Rainbow rolled her eyes. “Another interview?” she groaned. “And why’d you use my full name? No one but my family uses my full name.”
“And yet you wish for me to become you father-in-law. Does this not give me the right to use it? Certainly, it gives me more of a right to it than Grif.”
Rainbow Dash’s posture did not wilt, much to Pensword’s delight. “Yeah, well, he gets away with calling Princess Celestia Sunbutt. Do you know the Guard named a procedure after him?”
“Oh, yes,” Pensword responded with a coy grin. “Code Grif, when someone insults the Princess. I was wondering if they’d dust that off again.”
“Again?” Rainbow Dash cocked an eyebrow out of curiosity, then deadpanned again.
“Yeah. It’s funny how a procedure I wrote back in the third war is seeing use again. However, I noticed that you still haven’t answered my question. What is your boast? Of all that you have done, what do you think would bring you and your hopeful clan honor?”
The edge of Rainbow’s mouth ticked downward as she mulled over the question, testing the words on her tongue before she replied. “I’m the first pony in generations that can perform the sonic rainboom, and I am the fastest Pegasus in all of Equestria,” she pointed out as she dusted a hoof against her chest fur, a gesture of confidence the commander was very familiar with. “Then there’s the obvious distinction of being the Element of Loyalty. That means that not only would I make an awesome wife for your son, but I would be loyal to your clan and tribe as well. I faced down Nightmare Moon, Queen Chrysalis, and an entire horde of Changeling drones. I kicked their flanks in combat, too.” She spread her wings wide. “And I can say that within the year I will be the youngest Wonderbolt ever inducted into the ranks.”
Pensword nodded, weighing the precise place to prod, before simply saying, “Adequate.”
“Adequate?” Rainbow Dash growled. Her wings twitched outward and her feathers puffed out. “Who can beat me?”
“Oh, Cosy’s sister comes to mind. Surviving a Coup, learning to smith from the Hammer Strike. Then there are a few mares out in the camps that can hunt down and skin brown bears with only a knife and one arrow.”
Rainbow tossed her mane and snorted derisively. “I’d like to see them try to beat me in hoof to hoof combat. I’m very close to a Thunder Anvil.”
“That’s in Pegasus tactics,” Pensword corrected coolly. “You are nothing when it comes to Thestral combat.”
“Oh really? Fine!” she shouted. Her hooves stamped the ground and her wings flared to their full span in a sign of challenge. “Sign me up to learn, and I’ll soar through the ranks in no time flat!”
“Funny, since there are no ranks, just out-and-out brawling,” Pensword replied with a smirk.
“Then give me a sword and a guide and I’ll hunt any animal in that forest to prove I’m worthy of Kahn!”
Pensword’s smile widened. “Very good, Rainbow Dash, Hopeful of the Pen Clan, Extension of the Bear Tribe. Your posture and expression became pure aggression there. You forgot yourself for that moment and were fully prepared to do anything—even to fight me, if your body language was telling true. While the Pegasi of today are very civilized and reserved, thanks to centuries of politics in Canterlot, the Thestrals and the Pegasi who live with them here are not so. We—” He stood, and spread his wings proudly. A third of his plumage had returned, making the appendages at least somewhat presentable. “We find our base in emotion, and we show this emotion through our wings. You have done that here today. You stood your ground when I dismissed your claims as nothing impressive. As such, you have passed the test of combat boasts.”
Rainbow Dash snorted. “I’d love to hear your boast then sometime.”
Pensword’s mouth twitched, a hint at a decidedly more predatory gin. “Wait till the day of the wedding. You’ll hear a part of it. Come now. It’s time for you and your guide to plan what animal you’ll be hunting to prove your worth.” He already was planning to allow a pin for Thestrals in the military to denote their animal of adulthood, and he’d see that Rainbow Dash receive one as well, assuming the measure was approved. Adoptive daughter, indeed. He dismissed the mare with a gesture of his wing, only for her to stand her ground instead.
“Before I go, there is one more thing.” She stared right at Pensword. “I read a few documents while I was on cloud duty, and I know I can make a request for who I want as a guide.”
“Yes?” Pensword replied as he raised a curious brow. It was impressive to see the mare taking preparatory action outside of the bare essentials.
“I want your wife Lunar Fang to teach me and be my guide in the hunt.”
Pensword leaned forward on his desk. “You think you qualify for her to teach you? You really are a rash filly. She’s the head of the entire clan. You invite much risk with your request, and it leaves you open to what could be a much harder hunt than need be.”
“And make it look like I got by on a pass because of who I know or my titles?” Rainbow snorted once again. “I’ve heard how she treats Grif, Hammer Strike, and even you. With her as my guide, it’ll put a stop to anypony spreading rumors that I got through on your good word alone. I want the hardest test, because I know I can do it. If your wings weren’t in such bad shape, gramps—”
“Gramps!” Pensword exclaimed as he ruffled his feathers. “Well then, it appears I might just have to pick the animal myself, and make sure you and Lunar Fang don’t lollygag.” He stopped at the sight of Rainbow’s cocky smirk, and his eyes narrowed suspiciously. “You sly, Discord-loving—” he muttered.
Rainbow grinned cheekily.
“Out,” Pensword said curtly. “I’ll have to think on what you’ve just done before I reply. It is unwise to respond to such blatant disrespect in haste.” He continued to maintain his glare as Rainbow left the room. She managed to maintain her bravado, but Pensword could see the slight droop in the edges of her wings before she tucked them away and strode through the door.
The moment she was gone, Lunar Fang trotted out from behind a wooden screen. Her expression was grim and her eyes hard as she fixed them on the shut door.
“She’s learned a lot,” she said in a low voice.
“She has,” Pensword agreed. “By insulting me like that, she’s forced us to give her the hardest test we can, just like she wanted.”
“But she also called you out to hunt as well. She’s putting you on the hunt sooner than any of us wanted.”
“She’s smart.” Pensword nodded solemnly. “Kahn has made an interesting choice, and it is pushing Miss Dash to new heights.”
Pensword sat patiently in the lobby of Golden Oaks Library, looking at Grif as they waited for Twilight to appear with the news she wanted to share. Hints of scarlet, orange and gold from the setting sun splashed through the windows to run across the polished wood of the floor.
“I can’t believe you did that. Bringing the story to Equestria. It was amazing, cool, and—” He chuckled. “Did you hear what Moon River said at the end?”
“Adorable, wasn’t it? We already have plans for the next seven in a row, but I had to start with my favorite.” Grif smiled. “Best part is it will make funding the hive easier for Me-Me.”
“That is good to hear.” Pensword looked pensive. “What’s awesome is if you need to use any material, I do have Robin Hood with me in my collection. And with it being anthropomorphic animals, it doesn’t have to be changed too much.” He chuckled. “That was my favorite as a foal … child,” Pensword corrected himself.
“Glad you enjoyed the surprise.” Grif grinned. “So when’s Twilight supposed to arrive?”
A twinkle sound and pompf later, Twilight Sparkle was there with a wide manic grin on her face, heavy bags under her eyes, and a veritable mountain of paperwork in triplicate that hovered around her in an unconscious flurry not unlike a maelstrom. They slammed heavily onto the table, perfectly organized and sorted alphabetically.
“I have a plan!” she declared happily. “I found a loophole we can use against the EEA. It isn’t perfect, but it should give us the leeway we need to ensure Neighsay and the other Ponies can’t interfere. We really do need to see about getting them out of office, though. That kind of blatant racism really isn’t healthy, and Neighsay has a long record of prejudice.”
“I’m not surprised. Frankly, I wouldn’t be surprised if he sees Thestrals as non-ponies. Still, what is this plan, Princess?” Pensword asked, eyeing the teetering tower of paperwork with no small amount of trepidation.
Twilight, on the other hoof, had adopted a more thoughtful expression. “Actually, that’s a good idea. If we can catch him in the act of disparaging or disrespecting Thestrals, it would all but destroy his credibility. He’d have to be removed from office, or at the very least heavily censured. As for the other plan, it’s simple. We’re going to form an exploratory committee, one designed to test how well Ponies interact with other species and races. If we can show verifiable data that such interactions are possible and even beneficial, then Neighsay will be forced to approve, as will the entire EEA.”
Twilight smirked maliciously. “And the best part is that these kinds of tests can take years at a time to finish. Years that will be spent exclusively under the scrutiny of Equestria’s greatest defender, a Pony whose honor and patriotism cannot possibly be questioned.”
“And this will save the money Neighsay is already attempting to withhold?” Grif asked.
“The hold is still in place. He can’t touch the money being put directly toward that particular establishment. The issue is that he feels the classroom can only be modified and improved specifically for Ponies, ‘in accordance with EEA standards.’” She rolled her eyes as she waved her hooves to make air quotes. “By making Ponyville the host town for this experiment, remote as it is, it would be an ideal location to ensure no outside influences have the chance to alter events. It should also give jurisdiction to the local school to use the funds for the sake of its students in said project, both Pony and Gryphon, without discrimination or prejudice. Any signs of such prejudice would immediately lead to a disciplinary hearing with either me or Hammer Strike, depending on the nature of the abuse.”
“It’s not just Ponies and Gryphons,” Grif said.
“Thestrals fall under the classification of Ponies, so Neighsay couldn’t speak out against it, if that’s what you’re worried about. Is there another race or species that’s moved into the Everfree that I’m not aware of yet?”
“Potentially. The next few generations may include Hippogriffs, for one,” Grif noted. “But Unity takes in all kinds, and we don’t know what we might need.”
“Since the point of the system is to test incorporation and adaptation, as well as how other races interact in a common school setting, we should be able to include plans for when such new races surface or are born.” She furrowed her brow. “I think I remember reading something about Hippogriffs somewhere in the royal archives at Canterlot. But that was such a long time ago….”
“The point is we can’t come up with more funding like this for a considerable amount of time. We need to make sure everything will go right,” Grif explained.
“I concur. I doubt I’d ever be able to raise the amount I did the first time around for at least a few more years,” Pensword said.
“Trust me, it’ll work,” Twilight assured them. “The details are all here, including notes on the fine print and old clauses we’d utilize to justify the expenses and how your donation would fit within the confines of it. There won’t be any wiggle room. And if they try, there are means to ensure they honor the letter of the law. It hasn’t had to be invoked before, but Princess Celestia isn’t stupid enough not to leave at least some form of check against corruption.”
“I hope so.” Grif nodded. “What do you need us to do?”
“Stand as character witnesses when the presentation is made before the committee. We’ll need Hammer Strike to stand as well, since he’ll be nominated as the technical overseer of the project. You all have standing as the warriors who battled against the Gryphon threat in the Third Gryphon war. Neighsay won’t be able to disparage you or consider you spies. As for who Hammer Strike delegates his responsibility to and how it’s executed, that will be entirely in his jurisdiction. I believe Me-Me has several children who were made for those sorts of tasks. You might consider asking her for help, especially if you want to consider incorporating Changelings into the school as well.”
“As Me-Me prefers speaking with you, Grif, I’ll leave that to you to follow up,” Pensword answered. “And I will stand as a character witness.”
“I’ll work on it.” Grif nodded. “Thank you for your help, Twilight.”
Twilight nodded. “I love Ponyville. I’m not about to let anyone try to destroy the bonds of friendship we’ve forged here, no matter who or what they may be.” A hint of orange licked around the Alicorn as her mane frizzled. Then she closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and regained control. “If it comes down to it, and they still try to stop it…. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’d be willing to hire you to fix the problem the other way. But only as a last resort,” she said forcefully.
“That’s fair enough.” Grif nodded. “That kind of decision shouldn’t be made lightly.”
Twilight shuddered. “I wish it never had to be made, period.” Then she sighed. “Sorry, Grif. I’m not saying you’re any less for having to kill. It’s just something I wish nopony had to do, you know?” She yawned heavily. “I think I’m going to go back home now. I feel like I could sleep for three days straight.”
“You are home, Princess. We are in your library, and your bedroom is right up there.” He pointed with a wing.
“Oh, yeah … right.” Twilight yawned and levitated a series of books under her. “Good night, everypony. Turn the sign on the way out, won’t you?” she asked. A few seconds later, she was snoring contentedly atop her nest of books.
Pensword smiled at the scene as he led Grif out of the room and flipped the sign on the door to CLOSED. “Well, this was productive.”
“Very,” Grif agreed. “Now I just hope it works.”
Hammer Strike hummed to himself as he tapped his pencil against a sheet of parchment. On said parchment was a different take on one of his previous weapons in an attempt to give it more weight and density, while retaining its balance. He retraced a few lines and erased others while he kept thinking on the shape and how to make it work.
At the moment he was in his office, having settled any meetings or documents that needed his attention. He was left with the rest of the night to himself.
Or so he thought, until a flash of sunlight completely bleached those plans, then vaporized them. Celestia stood in the middle of his office with, of all things, an artist’s palette, a tripod, paints, a variety of brushes, and a large canvas hovering in her magic.
“Oh, Hammer Strike. Thank goodness you’re not busy. I need your help with something, if you have the time.”
Hammer Strike’s eyebrow slowly raised as he looked to the gathered tools. “I’ll assume it has to do with painting. What seems to be the problem?”
“Well, when I was a filly, I fell in love with the concept of artistry. Painting was an outlet of sorts. Now that things have quieted down somewhat in government, I thought it would be an excellent time to pick up the hobby again. I was wondering if you might be willing to give your critique of a piece I’ve been working on thus far.”
Her horn glowed and a sketch materialized on the canvas, followed by a series of colored strokes that filled in vivid oily streaks. Three Alicorns stood above a far smaller one, with their horns touching hers as what appeared to be waves or sparks of some kind traveled along all four structures.
“I thought I’d start off with something familiar,” she said.
Hammer Strike hummed to himself as he looked over the painting. “Well done, though personally I find the transitions between the colors to be a little harsh. Nevertheless though, it’s certainly a good piece.”
“You think I should try more blending along the lines, then? It had occurred to me, but it seems that all of us tend to keep our colors rather separate most of the time. Then again, the way Luna’s and my mane work could give a little leeway in that regard,” she mused as a tiny sponge dabbed away at the paint. “Anything else?”
Hammer Strike frowned as he scanned it over once more. “Potentially some more use to the empty space in the upper portion of the painting. While the blend will assist somewhat, it’s still a decent spread of open color before the border,” he finished with a shrug.
“I was planning to save that for the background, possibly the throne room in Canterlot. Though I may go with the astral plane, instead,” she mused. “Actually, now that I think about it, I’m surprised you haven’t tried a hoof at painting, yourself. You draw up plans and blueprints all the time. Painting isn’t all that far of a leap from that.”
Hammer Strike went to respond only for it to break down into a small frown. “I suppose not. The thought just never really crossed my mind.”
“I suppose it wouldn’t, with all the focus you put into smithing. Luna used to be the same way, you know.”
Hammer Strike chuckled. “I figured as much. I suppose I could look into it. It would certainly give me more to do in my off time.”
“And it’s a great way to keep the hands busy while you think. Some of the most expressive paintings in Canterlot were the products of emotional or spiritual turmoil. That, and potentially some zealousness mixed with a level of adoration that borders on the extreme,” she admitted with a hint of a blush in her cheeks.
Hammer Strike hummed to himself. “I suppose I’ll have to take a trip to Ponyville or Canterlot for supplies sometime. Got any recommendations for a shop?”
“As a matter of fact, I do. Try Far Sight’s Paints and Oddities. It’s a tiny shop, but they have a surprisingly large selection from a variety of places around the world.”
“Canterlot?”
“Yup. Though you could always ask Rarity if there are any local places here in Ponyville worth looking at. And I’m sure a few vendors would be only too glad to have the chance to set up shop in New Unity, if there’s a market there.”
“I can make a trip to Canterlot, though I’ll need you to take something back with you,” he commented as he reached into his coat. He pulled out a small dagger and held it out for her. “I need you to place this where there aren’t that many prying eyes. Embed it into the ground, if possible, or place it within a stand.”
“What does it do?” she asked as she took it into her magical grasp.
“It simply acts like a mark for me to ‘recall’ to,’” Hammer Strike replied with a faint smile. “Now that I think about it, I don’t think I’ve told you about this yet. If you’d like an example, teleport somewhere with open space and I’ll show you how it works.”
“Very well,” Celestia agreed and immediately teleported to the field that had only just begun to recover from the titanic clash Hammer Strike and Luna had in their sparring match the year prior.
Seconds later, a ring of blue fire appeared, and Hammer Strike soon stepped through. “Different from a standard teleportation spell, as it’s pretty much just a portal through thaumic means.”
“How do you sustain it?” Celestia asked as she peered curiously at the flames.
“Though my own reserve of energy, though I can tie the energy drain to other things. If I worked at it, I could perhaps connect it to the power released from the planet itself,” he replied, turning to glance at his portal once more.
“Your grasp of this power always leaves me in awe, Hammer Strike.” Celestia sighed and shook her head. “I’ll find a place where this won’t be disturbed. “Perhaps near my rose bushes.” She smirked. “Unless a random falling human happens to appear, I think it should be relatively safe.”
Hammer Strike smiled and rolled his eyes. “Is the shop still open at this time?”
“Probably not. It’s rather close to midnight. Though the owner is planning on growing into a twenty-four-hour business soon, since Thestrals tend to prefer a night shift, assuming she can get enough clientele interested in visiting during those hours.”
“I’ll have to keep an eye out, then.” Hammer Strike shrugged, before closing his portal. “Since I have the night free, I might as well wander for a bit, see what Luna is up to. Perhaps see if there are any good stores open, before I return.”
“Luna is travelling the dream plane by this time. Perhaps you should ask her to teach you how to dream walk. Then you can visit her, if she’s not in the waking realm.”
Hammer Strike chuckled. “I don’t think that’s within my abilities. Even thaumically, that would be somewhat dangerous for me to test and perform.”
“Fair enough. Care for a lift to the town square?”
“Sure, it would give me more time to wander, and if I am needed back in New Unity, they can have Vital Spark message me using a crystal relay that I store in my pocket,” Hammer Strike replied, tapping his vest pocket for emphasis.
Celestia smiled radiantly. “Good. I can show you some of the better stores without having to worry about the whole city falling to pieces trying to bow to me as I pass. That actually did happen once, you know. So many Ponies knelt at once, it caused a literal earthquake.”
Hammer Strike chuckled. “Then let’s get to it.”
“So, was the whole rhyme thing a ruse to make me cast the spell, or is it really impossible for you to speak normally in Equestrian anymore?” Vital Spark asked in Zwahili as he sipped from the cup the mare had offered.
“The latter,” Zecora responded in the same language as she joined him at the other side of the table. “Fortunately, it only applies to that one language, and I have had the opportunity to learn many others. Of course, it’s still fun to speak in couplets from time to time. It adds to the more mysterious aspect of my nature, and I thought if Ponyville was going to be afraid of me, why not make a game of it?”
“And the poison joke?”
“I did try to warn them. However, I am grateful to Twilight Sparkle for her efforts to dispel Ponyville’s misunderstanding. It is far easier being accepted in a community than living as an outcast.”
“Amen,” Vital agreed fervently. “I went through more than enough of that growing up.”
“Speaking of which, we never did have the chance to discuss your history, after you regained your memories. Now that things have settled down, perhaps we can remedy that error.”
Vital frowned. “That’s a fair point, especially since you’re part of my family now. What did you have in mind?”
“What are you willing to tell?”
“Zecora, you’re my sister. Of course I’m going to tell you as much as I can.”
The shamaness chuckled. “Then perhaps we should start at the beginning. I know much of your Earth, but I wish to know of your life, specifically.”
“Now that one may take us a while.”
“If you can make time to tell your fiancé, you can make time to tell me.”
“And how would you know I’ve told her anything?”
Zecora took a calming sip of her tea. “First, because I’m not a simpleton. Secondly, because I know you. You’re the most honest and open Pony I’ve ever met, with few exceptions, and that’s saying something.”
“And third, because you happen to be the avatar of a powerful deity that can listen in on conversations pretty much anywhere on this or any other world?”
“We don’t eavesdrop, Vital Spark. That would be rude,” Zecora said coolly.
“You just help nudge events in the right direction and offer the guidance only a deity can in certain situations,” Vital retorted just as calmly.
“A fair point. Now, are we going to talk about your family and life on Earth or are we going to keep circling each other, until the day is over and you have to stay the night?”
“You know Trixie would kill me, if I went missing without sending word back to the castle, right?”
“Then you’d best start talking, hadn’t you?”
Vital sighed. “All right. You win. Now, where to begin? I suppose we’ll start as all stories start, for what else is life but a story?”
“Vital Spark, do stop trying to be Grif.”
“I’m not!” he promised. “I just like telling a good story, too. Even if mine is better in writing than narrating on the fly.” He chuckled. “All right. I’ll try to keep it focused. But allow me one last reference before I do.”
Zecora sighed. “All right. Let’s get it over with.”
Vital cleared his throat. “Once upon a time….”
The music of flute, pan, and drums faded as the fires crackled and the murmurs of voices lowered. The sun had set long ago, and the darkness lurked around the fire rings like a restless thief, scrabbling away with every flare up to play across the bushes and trunks on the White Tail Woods border. The hunters stood in a line at the front, having drunk the drought of wakefulness provided by the Head Chieftess for this event. Their eyes were clear and their postures sure. Each felt prepared for the hunt ahead, with their guide standing alongside. They were ready to leave.
Rainbow Dash was dressed in a simple harness with a bow, a quiver of arrows, a skinning knife, and a hatchet. Lunar Fang stood in her light armor, while Pensword watched. It had been decided that he would not be hunting just yet. His feathers still hadn’t fully regrown, but the large brown rabbit in front of him was proof that he was not yet too old to stop hunting. Rainbow Dash had gotten grief for that remark, but she didn’t care. Those that were important to her, whose opinions mattered, knew she did it to get him to join the fun.
The Thestral leading the ceremony nodded. “Very well, hunters. You have till the moon sets to come back with the animal your guide has trained you to hunt. We look forward to adding your animal to your annals and welcoming you into the tribes as one of us, outsiders no more.”
With that, the Hunters went in pursuit of their quarry, filtering out and disappearing among the trees to leave Lunar Fang and Rainbow standing alone in the moonlight. Only when the two of them were the last there did Lunar Fang reveal what they would be hunting: an adolescent male bear. It wouldn’t harm the population to remove a little competition for when springtime rolled around.
Still, they’d wait for a time before leaving for their own hunt. The sounds and smells of the other hunters would either drive the bears coming out of their hibernation to investigate or to leave the area. Whether it was pausing a few moments for the perfect opportunity or waiting hours for prey, patience was an essential cornerstone of any hunt.
The moon had moved farther along its track, and Rainbow Dash, to Lunar Fang’s amazement, proved utterly silent while using the tracking skills she’d been taught. However, despite her impressive stealth, she still missed some hints at the trail for their prey. Lunar Fang would step in from time to time to offer correction. The training had been a rushed course for the outsiders, but it would be enough.
It wasn’t long before Rainbow Dash groaned and threw her hooves up, taking to the air in the midst of a meadow. She crossed her forelegs in impatience.
“What gives?” she said. Her frustration was clearly evident in her huffs and countenance.
“What do you mean, Miss Dash?” Lunar Fang replied. The shadows hid her smile. “I’m letting you lead the tracking.”
“Yeah, and we’re going in a circle. The bear tracks don’t seem to lead anywhere!”
Lunar Fang was impressed, but didn’t say anything. “Well, bears do travel about.”
“Oh yeah?” She was gone in a burst of speed. Lunar Fang looked worriedly after her and was about to spread her wings when she heard the heavy whump of something impacting the soft loam. Turning, Lunar Fang saw Cristo, Inigo, and two other foals their age, each wearing molded boots resembling bear paws.
“I thought the tracks were a little odd,” Rainbow Dash said. “And I used my ears to listen. Kind of hard to ignore a few giggles from foals.” She stepped forward with her wings flared. “Now how about you tell me why you lied to me?”
Lunar Fang answered the challenge with her own wings flared to show she wasn’t cowed by Rainbow’s aggressive stance. “You called my mate, your future father-in-law, Gramps. While it might not be so negative in Gryphon culture and when using the age as a distinction, the term in the tone and context you used could and usually is used to denote a stallion that is too old to hunt and must rely on those younger to do the hunting for them.”
“Yeah? Well bear hunts are a group practice. I remember that from two nights ago. You never hunt for a bear on your own.”
Lunar Fang grinned as she moved about to face Rainbow Dash. “That’s funny, because the hunt that made my Pensword a stallion, a full adult in Thestral culture, was a hunt for a mad bear.” She giggled as Rainbow’s jaw went slack and the mare’s eyes widened. “In fact, the bear that was in the area was not meant for you. It was being hunted by the Gryphon children of Pensword for the joint weddings tomorrow. Since you saw through the deception, and the night is growing old, we’d best go hunting for your real target: a deer. You’re competitive enough that I know you’d never go for a rabbit, and thus the deer is a perfect fit for your warrior spirit.” The mare chuckled as she stepped forward into the foliage. “Come along now, Miss Dash. Our quarry is waiting.”
Rainbow Dash paused to look back to the foals and waited for Lunar Fang to no longer be in ear shot. “That was an awesome prank you pulled on me. Keep those skills up, and I might just tap you for a little fun in the future.”
The foals giggled and took flight as Rainbow Dash sped to cach up with Lunar Fang, only to be smacked in the nose by the leathery wing.
“No speed flight,” Lunar Fang admonished. “You’ll spook the deer. From now on, we’re on the ground, and you’ll be following me.”
Rainbow Dash nodded.
The next two hours were slow and silent. Not a word passed between the two. While they could hear a few noises of other hunts on the winds, it seemed the deer had vanished.
It wasn’t until well after midnight that they found a few deer standing in a clearing. Rainbow barely restrained herself, though she chewed her lip in anticipation as she drew her bow and nocked the arrow. Lunar Fang was more concerned about the surroundings. Her eyes narrowed suspiciously as she took in the clearing. It was the middle of the night. The herd should have been resting or huddled together. However, right now they were standing and alert, with tails raised. Something was making them uneasy, and that could only mean one thing. A hunter was nearby, and it wasn’t them.
The herd bolted when the bowstring snapped and one of their numbers fell to the ground. Rainbow Dash sped to the kill to make sure it didn’t suffer. Lunar Fang galloped forward with her mouth open to shout a warning, but it was too late. She swerved left as a wolf sailed through the empty space she had occupied and plowed into the ground. Lunar Fang capitalized on the wolf’s brief moment of confusion, leaped again, and landed on top of the canid’s skull, driving her hooves into it with a sickening crunch. A yelp of pain was all that emerged from the creature before it died. Lunar Fang narrowed her gaze as she glared around the clearing. Multiple pairs of eyes flashed in the cover of darkness.
Rainbow Dash glared as she planted herself firmly and spread her wings wide. “You will not take my kill!” she shouted.
The wolves fanned out to either side, and Rainbow Dash leapt into the air, hovering close to the ground. Lunar Fang noticed in an instant how the Pegasus’ eyes tracked each of the predators, her ears twitching toward the sound their paws made on the grassy loam. Suddenly, Rainbow Dash spun, nocked an arrow, and fired. The arrow soon found its mark and downed the wolf after piercing its side. Another wolf tried to dart around and leap on Rainbow’s back. Lunar fang surged into action and bucked the wolf mid-leap. She gathered her strength for a killing blow, but another yowl of pain from a second arrow strike changed the pack’s mind. The scent of blood combined with the aggressive stance of the hunters drove them back to the edge of the clearing, leaving the two wounded and their dead companion.
Lunar Fang grinned. “Congratulations, Miss Dash, Deer-slayer, Wolf Ears. You just scared off a wolf pack.”
Rainbow Dash quirked her brow in confusion. “What did I do? You’re the one that killed the wolf.”
“And yet you knew where each wolf was the moment you were in the air. You kept situational awareness that usually takes years for foals to learn. In short, you just proved you truly have what it takes to be adopted as a full Thestral. But come, we’d best bring the deer back to the camp to skin it. The blood from the kill and the wolves will draw other predators to us. We should finish off these other two wolves and mark our trail back. Assuming the bodies remain undisturbed, we’ll send a party back for the wolves. Now come on. It’s time to go clean a deer carcass.”
“You know, Grif is going to have a whole media empire by the time this is all over,” Vital mused as he levitated a container of cider that had been carefully bottled and stored over Trixie’s cup. A set of candles had been laid on the small table in a pentagon with a sixth larger candle at its center. He smiled at the mare and felt the butterflies dance in his stomach again. Then his brow furrowed.
“And now that I think about it, this is our first official date night, isn’t it? Most of our outings have been namely for business or someone else’s gathering. I’ve got a lot of lost time to make up, don’t I?”
“To be fair, things have hardly been quiet since we started out,” Trixie pointed out.
“True. But I’m still going to spoil you rotten.” Vital smirked as he levitated curiously colored torn pieces of flesh onto a toasted bun. “This recipe is from an old family friend. Barbeque pulled pork. Trust me, you’re going to love it.”
Trixie hesitantly picked up the offered food and gingerly took a bite. She let out a low moan and shut her eyes.
“I know, right?” Vital chuckled. “You should see the look on your face right now.”
“Why didn’t anyone tell us meat was this good?” Trixie asked, taking large bites.
“Because you weren’t carnivores or omnivores before. Your bodies weren’t capable of digesting meat properly.” Vital shrugged. “Meat was just sort of a regular thing for me back home. Without that protein, I wouldn’t have developed the way that I did. And you wouldn’t have the mage you see before you today.” He smirked as he took a swig of cider.
“So, any more secret recipes from home?” she asked as she finished her sandwich in one massive bite.
“Do cookies count?”
“Why wouldn’t cookies count?”
“Because you have them here in Equestria, and my recipe may dull in comparison to the others that already exist here.”
“You never know.” Trixie shrugged.
“Trixie, we have Pinkie in Ponyville,” Vital deadpanned.
“Yes, but I’m not marrying Pinkie.”
“Is this an official interview, Lady Lulamoon?” Vital teased. “I should have brought my references.”
“What, I can’t get to know your culture?” she teased back. “I hardly know that half of you.”
“You’ll be getting to know a lot more of it when we visit Earth again…. After they pull me in for another official debriefing. I am still technically the official ambassador for Earth to Equestria.” Vital leaned back, looking thoughtful. “My mother did teach me how to make a pretty good angel food cake, but it’s been ages since I tried making one. I don’t know if I’d be able to get the recipe right. Though I do make some pretty good oatmeal raisin cookies.”
“I’m sure you’ll find something.” She smiled.
“Don’t you mean we’ll find something? We are going to be bound together for the rest of our lives, after all.”
“The rest of your life, anyway,” Trixie said with an air of contemplation.
“Are you saying you won’t let me visit, after I go? You wound me, fair lady.”
“I never said that.”
“Good. Because like it or not, you’re going to be stuck with me, young lady. For better or for worse, in sickness and in health, as long as we both shall live and beyond. I don’t care what Grif says.” He rose from his chair and trotted next to her, then kissed her cheek and nuzzled her mane. “I’m always going to be with you. Well, except when we get separated by business, I suppose.” He winked at her and quickly sidestepped the wing smack Trixie directed his way.
Pensword looked upon the hunters and their guides as they gathered in front of the lodge to clean their kills and recount their adventures. He smirked at the familiar sound of prideful embellishment. Every youth and prospective member wanted to sound important. His gaze flicked to Rainbow Dash and Lunar Fang, who had taken the cake, quite literally, since the reward for best hunter story was a cake. Of course, Lunar Fang embellished the tale, but he was willing to overlook it since Rainbow Dash had left such a powerful impression on his wife in the first place.
While the wolf clan was saddened at the loss, they understood why the deed had to be done. And since the two were merciful, rather than letting the wounded wolves suffer, the Pegasus garnered greater respect. The stew for tomorrow would prove most interesting with the addition of wolf meat. Pensword just hoped the interest would turn it into a happy memory.
He paused as he noticed the other Thestrals carrying a pelt that seemed to have been cured the last few days, along with smoked meats. Night Terror seemed to be the Thestral of honor, and he could see that it was a cougar that had been skinned and hunted. He approached the mare, intrigued by the find.
“Why’d you go after the cougar?” he asked.
Night Terror replied defensively. “The Cougar attacked me first. It was him or me. I guess I must’ve done something wrong, because they took one look at the pelt when I brought it for curing and demanded I accompany them to personally present it to you with the food.”
Pensword flicked his gaze down, then back up, and froze. His face staid stubbornly blank as he signaled Lunar Fang over. She took one look at the mare, then at Pensword, then over his shoulder to the pelt. She nodded.
“Night Terror, you are to stay in the camp. You will not be leaving until we come to speak with thee again.” She paused a moment, then whacked Penword with a leathery wing. “That’s for getting the old Equish stuck in my head.” Then she yanked gently on his ear. “Come along, dear. There’s a discussion that needs having.”
Pensword nodded numbly, as he followed her into what they were using as his tent for the hunt. There, he found Preston organizing paperwork. “Just the person I wanted to see. Preston, I need Grif here. Yesterday.”
Preston stiffened at the tone and nodded curtly. “I’ll forward it immediately.” His eyes and horn flashed as he forwarded a message through the hive mind.
Grif arrived fifteen minutes later. He approached, Pensword but said nothing.
Pensword looked Grif in the eye and fidgeted with his hooves. “Grif, the spirit of the hunt has pushed us forward, straight into a … well, something of a situation. As you know, Night Terror has been spying on us; however, the last few nights, she has had a cougar attack her. Upon skinning the kill, unknown to her, the mark of a bat in flight was found. That mark means that the mare who killed the animal should either be married to the lead stallion or dismissed from the tribe. Too much time has passed, and I have caught her eyeing me with mixed emotions.” He sighed. “Since you know her true intentions, I feel that you should have a say in this. How should we proceed, courtship or banishment? Tradition is forcing my hoof. Those are the only two options.”
“What would her father do to her if we sent her back?” The fact that they both already knew the answer went unspoken.
“What any Noble does to a bat that comes out of the closet: banishment or death. And with how many foals we got last year, I fear she will have only one option. After all, thanks to some of your networks, I doubt Blueblood would ever allow her to truly take ownership of the forests he promised her.”
“How do you feel about her?” Grif asked.
Pensword hummed. “She has potential. She reminds me of the original Thestral that married Private Blueblood. She’s learning so much, and she carries the potential to reconcile house Blueblood with the Thestrals after centuries of divide. She might even bring the family all the way back to being an ally.”
“Is that really all you’re considering in the matter, Pensword?” Lunar Fang pressed.
“I’m trying to look at it from an impartial perspective for now, dear.”
“Well, I can’t decide this for you, Pensword. This is something of a private matter,” Grif said as he looked pointedly between the pair. “In the end, as your friend, I can only tell you to go with your gut on this one.”
Pensword nodded decisively. “Then I’ll have to call in a favor with a few Gryphons. If I am to court her, she needs protection from Blueblood’s assassins and assassins in general. I doubt other Thestrals will like the idea of me marrying a spy in Blueblood’s employ. That also means we’ll have to travel to his manor to get the dowry he owes her.” His mouth hardened into a grim line. “I know the spark of love for her is there. It’s just … my hoof is being forced sooner then I had hoped. I’ll make my proclamation, and I need you or one you trust at that proclamation to keep her safe. I’m sure one of Blueblood’s other spies will be running back to him the moment I make the announcement.”
Grif nodded. “I’ll send you a few guards until you get something set up.”
“Good. Can you be present as a hunter for this next part of the adoption proceedings?”
Grif nodded again. “I suppose I can spare the time.”
Pensword inclined his head in thanks, and the trio returned to the festivities. With Grif in the background watching the proceedings, many a Thestral could already guess what was about to come.
Night Terror felt the spark of panic grow in her chest as she watched Grif and Pensword emerge with grim expressions. Had she just failed? Would she have to return home in disgrace? What would her father think? With great difficulty, she hid the inner turmoil beneath a calm collected mask.
“Rare it is that while spring is yet to come, the hunt brings about what it did tonight. Night Terror, a daughter lost, but now found, does not know just how lucky or how blessed she is by the hunt this night. For upon this night where those wishing to marry one another share their meals and hunts, the fates have brought upon the back of Night Terror, daughter of the first marriage between the Ponies of the Sun and Moon, the ability to reaffirm these ties.
“On the pelt that Night Terror presented to me, hidden from her eyes to allow the kill, is the shape of a flying bat. In accordance with ancient tradition, we are now presented with two choices. Either we send her away, claiming she has not achieved what we desired and the fates say her time has past or we fully embrace her, have her become a true member of our clans and tribes.” He smiled warmly as Lunar Fang dragged Fox Feather to stand by his side. “And grant her the honor that such a kill demands be bestowed. As such, it is with a warm heart and a full moon above our heads that I do hereby accept her and extend to her an offer of courtship. Let the spring courtship of houses Blueblood and Pen begin tonight. Night Terror, you have earned your place in these tribes. Please, join me at my table and dine with my two wives.”
The spark in Night Terror’s chest exploded into a conflagration that quickly shrivelled and curled in a crumpled mess. Marriage. Marriage! She’d never planned on marrying. Her blood was dirty, her pedigree a shame to her father and brother. To do this would qualify as the ultimate betrayal to everything her family stood for.
At the same time, though, Pensword was declared an honorary Pegasus, despite his mixed heritage. He had legal standing among the nobility, and he had been recognized both anciently and currently as an adopted member of the Hurricane Household. Such rank and prestige held weight. And there was a certain aspect to the Pony she found … undefinable. Then there was the matter of the Thestral branches of the family that had survived the purging. She had gotten to know them, to understand them. True, the culture was still something alien to her to an extent. It didn’t feel right, with the way she had been raised in Canterlot. But they had accepted her openly with kindness. They welcomed her into their home. She had played with their foals, gossipped with their mares, learned how to fight and hunt with their guidance.
They were strange, different, but they were not worthy of execution. And Blueblood would surely seek just that, lest a challenge be made in the courts to threaten his position as head of house and divide his fortune and lands even more than they had been already.
And then there was the matter of the tradition itself. Pensword had been very plain in his ultimatum, one that was clearly demanded by their faith in their alien goddess. Either she would have to agree to this courtship and the ultimate union that would likely result from such advances or she would have to reject and return to Canterlot within the next day. She was caught.
At last, she came to a decision and swallowed her feelings. It wouldn’t do to let her confidence fall where everypony could see. Not only would it be a sign of weakness in Thestral culture, but it would also make Pensword suspicious, if not outright hostile for spurning his generous offer in the first place. Then again, perhaps he would simply be sad.
She quickly crushed that last thought. Pensword did not get sad. He got even. History had shown that only too well. She took a deep breath and approached the table, then deliberately took a seat next to Fox Feather. She prayed to Faust nopony would perceive her nerves.
Foxfeather smirked as she slammed a mug filled with some form of hard drink onto the table and pushed it into Night Terror’s hooves. “Drink up, deary. Let’s see just how strong a Thestral you really are.”
Night Terror hid her grimace behind the cup and drank, only to cough up the liquid the moment it touched her throat. The alcohol burned heavily, leaving her gasping for breath and flailing for water. Somepony finally took pity on her, and she drank deeply. She rasped and cleared her throat to try to settle the burning. Raucous laughter soon grated against her ears as much of the clans finished watching the spectacle.
Lunar Fang smiled kindly and nodded her head gently. “Don’t worry. It’s all in good fun,” she whispered. “You should have seen how Pensword reacted during his first time.”
Night Terror smiled weakly in return. “Um … thanks.” The rest of the evening passed with much laughter and merriment. But Night Terror didn’t have an eye for such things. She had more difficult matters to address. What would her father do in this kind of situation? And more importantly, how was she going to tell him where her mission had led?
The cold air had finally broken for the first time in weeks, leaving room for the snow to melt. The first herald of spring swept through to loosen winter’s grip, though not remove it altogether. The last fingers of frost clung stubbornly to the snow drifts and shadowy eaves of the castle.
A figure slowly crept out from the brush outside the castle. Several sticks and leaves jutted messily out from her gray mane. Her cloche hat was askew, and the bottom of her purple cloak dragged heavily against the ground, its trim completely soaked in the slush from the snow. A thick set of red glasses sat firmly on the bridge of her nose. She sighed wearily as she approached the outer perimeter walls.
“Bonjour, Madame,” a voice spoke from above the wall as a Unicorn dressed in a full red facemask looked down at her. His Phrench accent was very thick. “Would you be so kind as to state your business? I would be very much in your debt.”
“My name is A.K. Yearling. I’ve come to speak with Lord Hammer Strike and Grif Grafson. They should be expecting me.”
The red-adorned head vanished for a several minutes. When it returned, it peeped over the edge and called, “Very well. You may enter,” before the heavy wooden doors began to open.
Yearling continued her steady advance. She was used to the stares and whispers. That was to be expected as a famous author, especially after everything Rainbow Dash did to make her works popular in this part of the kingdom. She strode past foundations, frameworks, and other buildings, including the lodge. She made a note to return there later. It wasn’t often one had the chance to see Thestral culture in action, and it could prove useful as a plot point in one of her books. The Hall of Paragons was lined with Pegasus staff who gaped as she walked past. Finally, she reached the main gate.
“Could somebody open the gate, please?” she called. “It’s rather cold out here.”
A blocky muzzle peered out over the parapet and nodded. Then he turned to the side and bellowed, “Yo, Demos, open the gate!”
The jangle of chains and a heavy groan heralded the rise of the portcullis and the secondary set of heavy wooden doors beyond. A large rectangular portal inside the gate pulled open for the mare, and she passed through to the courtyard.
“Thank you,” she said to the Unicorn tending the gate. “Has anyone told Hammer Strike of my arrival?”
“Lord Hammer Strike is currently in his office,” Blast Shield said as he approached. “Welcome, Miss Yearling. I’ll show you the way.”
“Ah. You’re Blast Shield, right? Thank you for the invitation to come here for my research.”
“Wow, most people can’t tell me and my brother apart until we tell them,” the stallion noted with surprise. “Well, the invitation was from Lord Hammer Strike. In the end, we just make sure things go smoothly. He’s the one that makes the decisions.”
“I recognized your tone from the letter,” she said simply. “Writing is sort of my specialty.”
Blast nodded, then gestured with a hoof. “Well, just follow me. Lord Hammer Strike’s office isn’t far.” He led her through the great hall and up a flight of stairs to Hammer Strike’s door.
“You’re clear to enter,” Hammer Strike called out through the wood.
“Go on ahead,” Blast gestured. “Don’t worry. He’ll be expecting you.”
Yearling nodded her thanks and passed through the door, closing it gently behind her, before addressing the pony there. “Lord Strike. It’s an honor to meet you,” she said. “Are you ready for our interview?” She cast a casual glance around the room and looked questioningly at the lord.
“We’re clear. I secured the room as soon as you closed the door.”
A.K. nodded. “And Grif?”
“I’m here,” Grif spoke from somewhere outside her view.
“Cloaking spell?” she asked curiously as she removed her hat and cloak to reveal the explorer’s garb that lay beneath. She tossed her mane to return it to its regular style.
“Practice,” Grif answered.
“All right,” she said primly. “Let’s cut to the chase.” She reached into her satchel and pulled out what appeared to be a large book. However, when she opened the cover, a great stone slab was revealed. “The pictograms on this indicate what appears to be an advanced civilization. I didn’t really care too much for it at first, until I saw this over here.” She pointed to a far corner, where a worn compass rose had been etched into the stone. She then produced a parchment. “Here’s a rubbing I took from the surface. It’s faint, but you can just make out the wings surrounding a Unicorn’s head in the center. As you know, the maps of the era from the sisters’ shared rule always showed both sisters’ heads back to back. This one shows only a single head, and it appears distinctly masculine in its features.
“It’s my belief that this tablet could well be a reference or record pertaining to the lost city. The only problem is I can’t seem to translate the remaining characters. It looks like old Ponish at first, but further investigation has yielded several inconsistencies. Magical dating indicates that the tablet itself is as old as, if not older than, Equestria’s founding under the sisters. I theorize this could be an ancient language our ancestors utilized in that era. And if that is so, it’s possible that this document may contain information pertaining to the city in question.”
“The main problem is the lack of the rest of the book, correct?” Hammer Strike questioned before humming. “I could check with Celestia or Luna to see if they remember the language.”
“I don’t know for sure whether it even is a book. If it was, then much of it may have been destroyed, at least this copy. The ruins I found it in were dilapidated at best, and that’s me being generous about their condition.”
Grif nodded. “I’ll see if I can’t track down a copy.”
“I’m still not one hundred percent, so I doubt I could locate it through time.” Hammer Strike sighed. “If I keep pushing things that hard, I might end up causing permanent harm to myself.”
“Not to mention time itself,” Daring noted. “Trust me, I’ve been there.”
“And trust me when we say this. We’re experts on the subject,” Hammer Strike replied simply. “I’ll keep supplying funding to your ventures, if you have ideas for where to go next, but I have a feeling this search is going to last a while.”
“Until we find a means to understand the language, most likely,” Daring agreed. “Once we do, this could provide us a clue to the next step of the journey.”
“Now, have you managed to keep this from your … usual problems?” Grif asked.
“So far, but knowing how things work with these kinds of adventures, it’s only a matter of time before one of them sticks their nose into things.”
“Just so you’re aware, we cannot afford competition on this venture. Should your usual rivals rear their heads, we will not hesitate to dispose of them. In a variety of unpleasant ways,” Grif said grimly.
“I’ll make sure to let them know that. Caballeron won’t be too pleased to hear it, of course, but you scared him half to death. He knows better than to cross you.”
“Well then, if there isn’t anything more to discuss, I should go and inform my associates to look for this book of yours,” Grif said as he looked to Hammer Strike for permission to leave.
Hammer Strike nodded his assent.
“Take the rubbing with you. You can distribute a copy to each of your scouts,” Daring said as she passed the parchment to the mercenary.
“They’ll only need one copy,” Grif assured her. He seized the paper and took his leave.
“You’re free to stay here for as long as you need before you set out. If you have need of any provisions, I can give you clearance to take some supplies before you go,” Hammer Strike said.
“Most of this will likely be me searching for any signs of a cipher or other means of translation. Either that or locating an artifact that can do the work for us.” She sighed. “Either way, it’s going to be off to the libraries for research. I’ll keep you posted as work progresses.” She pulled out a small lamp. Its light was barely an ember. “By the way, my dragon fire lamp needs refilling.”
Hammer Strike raised his hoof, and it ignited with thaumic energy. After a moment, he lowered it and shrugged. The lamp was completely full of the glowing substance, and burned like a small star. “There. That should last you.”
Daring nodded. “I’ll see you later, then.” She gathered her supplies and left the tablet. “Until next time, Hammer Strike.”
Extended Holiday Chapter 153: The Great and Powerful In-law Act 25
Rainbow Dash looked on with wide eyes as Fluttershy guided her through the double doors. Her jaw slacked at the artwork and carvings as Thestrals gathered in the main room of the lodge. The fire pit burned merrily to ward off the last chill of winter from outside. What surprised her most, however, was the fact that Princess Luna was there garbed in ceremonial robes with armor glinting from underneath. The impassive gaze she cast on Rainbow Dash left the mare feeling small and impetuous. Rainbow bowed clumsily, but at least she managed to carry it through.
Luna’s shadow blocked out the light as the authoritative tone rang out. “Rise, Dame Rainbow Dash, Dutchess of the Twilight Court.”
Rainbow Dash was quick to obey.
“Before the marriage ceremony, we have a few orders of business to conduct concerning your noble title.”
Rainbow Dash groaned. “Don’t tell me the Solar Court’s throwing a fit over this.”
Luna smirked. “No, but while Kahn is considered a son of Pensword, he has no titles within the Pen Clan. Normally, within the Thestrals, if the Mare has the title, it is still retained, but within the new father’s tribe name. However, you are an outsider. That means you have a choice. You may stay in the Twilight Court or—”
“Let me cut you off right there, Princess.Sorry, but I stick with Twilight. She gave me the title, and she’s my best friend. There’s no way I’m trading that in.”
“Very well, then Kahn will be known by your noble house’s name from tonight onward. He will give up his clan name for yours. But know this; I expect you to still learn about the culture that brought your husband new life.”
“Of course. Like I’m going to give that up, just because I got married,” she scoffed. “I’ve still got a tone of questions.”
Luna’s expression softened. “Very well. If you’ll come follow me, I will begin the ceremony.”
“Hold on. You’re going to do the ceremony? But you’re a Princ—” She stopped as the whole room stared at her. She cleared her throat self-consciously. “High Chieftess?”
Luna chuckled. “Forgive my children. It will be hard for a subject of the sun to learn the titles of the night. But that is what Twilight is here for. As the Princess of Friendship, she will help bridge our two noble houses, so we may learn from each other. As for why, as you so aptly put it, I am High Chieftess, and Pensword’s role and honors that he performed previously deserves no less than the High Chieftess’ attentions.” She laughed as she followed up with the next part. “Besides, by Thestral tradition, the father can’t marry his son or daughter. Grandfoals, yes. Foals? No.”
“That’s good, um, I think. But if that’s the case, then why am I in here, instead of out there with the other couples?”
“Because your ranks and accomplishments dictate you are to be married in the lodge,” Pensword said as he emerged from the cluster of Ponies, flanked on either side by Fox Feather and Lunar Fang in their fox furs and ursa minor robes respectively. They also had a small box with them. “These are your furs to wear for the wedding.”
Rainbow Dash opened the package and pulled aside the wrappings to reveal a familiar soft pelt. The rich brown and lush white had been cleaned of the blood from the kill, and the skin had been properly tanned and cured, ready to be worn. The antlers had been crafted into the handles on four daggers.
“These blades are to be presented at the ceremony. Two for you, and two for Kahn. It shows the wealth of knowledge and the respect you have garnished for one another.”
Pensword reached under his cloak and pulled out a quiver bearing Twilight’s cutie mark. “And this is for you, to represent your true liege in this ceremony. It will remain empty, for the time being.”
Rainbow Dash nodded mutely as Lunar Fang and Fox Feather dressed her.
Once she was dressed, she was led to a dark room filled with dim lights and moon stones that surrounded a pedestal carved in the shape of a crescent on a rough unpolished natural rock about half Luna’s size.
“What’s that?”
“The stone is from the ancient meeting grounds,” kahn explained. “The Thestrals have forgotten where the first cave was located, so they bring a stone from the meeting grounds to represent that no matter how far apart they are, they are all of one family.”
Rainbow Dash practically squealed as she leaped into the air, then dropped back onto the ground again to whirl on her husband-to-be. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Where did you come from?”
Kahn smirked. “I came from Gryphonia, of course.”
Rainbow rolled her eyes. “You know what I mean.”
“Doesn’t mean I have to tell you,” he teased.
Rainbow sighed. “Okay, I guess you have a point.”
Kahn gasped. “Ze great Rainbow Dash showing humility? I shall have to keep my eyes open for more miracles in the future.”
Rainbow Dash rolled her eyes. “So, how’s this wedding go? Because I’m pretty sure it’s probably going to be different than the royal wedding back in Canterlot.”
Luna chuckled. “Well, we shouldn’t be so lucky as to have a swarm of Changelings invade during the ceremony, I’m sad to say.”
“I know. That was so epic,” Rainbow said with a wistful expression on her face.
“Is everyone present?” Luna asked. “I would have assumed you’d have more people to invite.”
“I wasn’t sure who to invite when I was told the ceremony was going to be in the lodge. I told them we’d have a reception after. I mean, you don’t let just any Ponies inside. I didn’t want to cause any problems.”
“Traditionally, one would call their parents. And parents such as yours, I’m sure, would be notable in this group.”
Rainbow Dash winced. “I … really don’t think they’d be good for a wedding ceremony. They can be … a bit much.”
“Many foals would give their hind hooves for parents as supportive as Bow Hothoof and Windy Whistles for parents, Rainbow Miriam Dash,” Luna chastised.
Rainbow Dash looked desperately at Kahn and Luna, then to Pensword. “I couldn’t fail,” she answered quietly. “They turned every single loss into a victory. They cheered when I got fourth place with the same excitement I got for first. I know foals would like parents like mine, I was told that at school. But all the time?”
“Do you tire of scootaloo?” Luna asked
Rainbow Dash shook her head a proud look in her eyes. “No. She’s awesome, and one of the best. She’s been there supporting me the whole time.”
“But she considers everything you do to be of the utmost ‘coolness,’ no matter if other ponies view it as a failure. You just stated that this very outlook bothered you.”
“But that’s … it’s … that’s not—.” She sighed. “Okay, I messed up. Give me a few minutes. I’ll be back.” She flared her wings and tensed for liftoff, but Luna raised a staying wing.
“Family is central to Thestral culture. It is, above all else, what ties the tribes together, and why Thestrals have not warred on themselves in such a long time. Normally, I would be unable to continue with the ceremony, simply because you lack a reason why your family should not be at your joining.” Rainbow’s face fell. “But you are fortunate, Rainbow Dash.” Luna smiled as the creak of wood shifting on hinges filled the room. “You have a very honorable fiancé.”
“Rainbow?” A familiar mare’s voice asked as the door closed and the Thestrals parted to make way for her.
“Mom?” Rainbow yelped as a small sky blue mare with a mane and tail colored two shades of orange dashed forward to hug her daughter. Windy Whistles’ eyes were filled with tears of joy, and she beamed as Rainbow looked over the mare’s shoulder. The larger purple stallion with a rainbow mane and tale was unmistakable, even in his black suit. He smiled and nodded gently.
“Dad?” She didn’t know if they had overheard her, but if they didn’t say anything, she wouldn’t either. “I … I honestly didn’t think they’d let you inside when I heard I’d be married in the lodge.”
Bow chuckled as he strode forward. “That’s our daughter. I’m so excited for you. Marrying at your age. Kahn is such a responsible Gryphon. Did you know he even went so far as to perform the traditional Pegasus feather offer to ask your hoof in marriage?” He winked playfully at her and Rainbow’s blush deepened.
“You did not think I would marry you without first meeting the wonderful Ponies who gave the world such beauty?” Kahn asked with a playful smirk.
Rainbow rubbed her mane awkwardly. “Yeah, I … kinda should’ve accounted for that, huh?”
“Well then,” Luna cut in smoothly. “If all are present, I think we are ready to begin.”
Rainbow Dash nodded and smiled nervously. Kahn took his place by her side. He wore the same armor he’d used on the day he pledged his service to Pensword. The Pony’s cutie mark glinted prominently on the breast plate. A wolf pelt had been attached to the back of the armor.
Luna stood before them as everyone shuffled to their places. Fires were lit in large clay pots that gave off a sweet aroma that quickly filled the room. Luna raised her head with all the grace and pride that her station allotted her and spread her wings in an intimidating display.
“We gather today to celebrate a joining most unusual, for a Pony and a Gryphon stand before all of us in this sacred place that we might bear witness to their love. Does anyone here speak for this couple?”
Pensword beat Rainbow’s parents to the punch. “I speak for them. I speak for their loyalty to one another during a time when such interactions could very well have been frowned upon. I speak on their character that they both would rather molt their feathers than betray the trust they have to one another. I speak on the military prowess that both show, from how Rainbow Miriam Dash battled against Changelings during the attack on Canterlot to how Kahn held duty above all else during the failed coup in Gryphonia. They both are worthy for one another in a Thestral’s eyes.”
Windy jumped forward with a boldness Rainbow had only seen used when praising or arguing her victories. Now the mare’s stubbornness manifested in a new light as she addressed the gathering. “As head of my house and herd, I speak for their love, which anypony can see. I speak for their harmony, and I speak for the future I have seen in their natures. This marriage will be long and prosperous. These two are destined for one another in a Pegasus’ eyes.”
“A joining is not a venture easily entered into.” Luna eyed both witnesses. “But by the testimony of these two, it is obvious they find this joining to be a fit one. As do I. And so, as speaker for the great bear Ursa Major, and as herald of the moon, I join my words with theirs and bless this joining.” Luna turned her gaze on Rainbow. “Rainbow Miriam Dependable Danger Dash?”
“Yes, Ma’am?”
“You intend to join yourself to this Gryphon known as Kahn of the house of the Pen?”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
“You would hunt for him if he is injured or sick?”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
“You would stand by his side on the field of battle?”
“I’d watch his back, so nobody would get the drop on him, Ma’am.”
“You would die by his side?”
“Gladly.”
“And if he should die, would you have the strength to live on in his name?”
Rainbow looked to Pensword. “As long as I’m allowed to hunt down the people responsible and live to make him proud.”
“Would you raise the glass in his honor?”
The next archaic line rose easily to her lips. “He has earned a feast of honor in my eyes.”
“And finally, when the time is right, will you, to the best of your ability, give him children to continue his name and your own for the future?”
Rainbow Dash finally turned to her fiancé and smiled. “Yes, I would.”
Luna nodded approvingly and turned her gaze to Kahn. “Kahn of the house of Pen?”
“Yes, Ma’am?” Kahn responded.
“You intend to join yourself to the pegasus dame Rainbow Miriam Dash of the tree of Dash and the line of Storm?”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
“You would hunt for her, if she was injured or sick?”
“I would make sure her plate is never empty and her hunger never pains her.”
“You would stand by her side in the field of battle?”
“I would slaughter her enemies, if she so asked it.”
“You would die by her side?”
“Happily, knowing the histories would tell of our love till the end of time.”
“And should she die, would you have the strength to live in her name?”
“Though it would pain me, I would use every day granted to me to tell her story to all who would hear it.”
“You would raise a glass in her honor?”
“I would lift my tankard high as I sing to her glory.”
“And finally, when the time is right, will you, to the best of your ability, give her children to continue her name and your own into the future?”
Kahn laughed. “Just as soon as she gives me the look.”
“If there is an objection among those gathered to this union, then make the challenge now or accept that the chance is past.” When no one spoke up, Luna continued. “In the name of the great bear and the first grand chieftain and the moon, I bless this joining. May you be happy and prosperous.” Luna lifted Meteor Impact in her magic and let it thump the ground loudly. “The joining is sealed. Let nopony break it apart.”
Rainbow Dash grinned and, for the first time in public that anyone in the room had seen, leaned forward and kissed the side of Khan’s beak. Kahn didn’t lose any time. He seized her gently in his talons and hissed her fully. Rainbow soon returned the favor.
Fluttershy smiled as she approached Rainbow’s parents. “I hope you can stay the rest of the night. We have some lovely salmon grilling for a feast after the other ceremonies are finished. You should at least stay for this.”
“I certainly would say so,” Pensword muttered. This is a Thestral party. For once, Pinkie Pie was invited as a guest. We won’t have to worry about any … surprises.”
Fluttershy smiled gently. “I wouldn’t be so sure of that.”
Pensword grumbled as he followed his two friends across New Unity. A thick set of sunglasses laid askew on his muzzle to block out the sun’s rays. “Grif, Vital, why did you have to get me up this early in the day? I should be sleeping after last night’s wedding. This is midnight for me now, you know.”
“We wouldn’t be doing this if it weren’t important, Vulpix,” Vital said seriously. “I’m … still kind of trying to process it, myself.” He looked nervously at the Gryphon. “How long till we get to your office, Grif?”
“Only a few minutes,” Grif said as they were led into the castle and through a few hallways before standing in front of the large door that marked his quarters in New Unity. He quickly ushered them inside.
Pensword moved to a hard back chair that had been built with Ponies in mind. He didn’t trust himself to stay awake, if he chose one of the larger chairs.
Vital took position by Grif’s desk and nodded grimly to the room’s owner.
Grif closed the door and locked it, then moved to his desk and deftly gave the crystal on it a flick with his talon. A moment later, he signaled the room was secured.
“You’re aware that Hammer Strike has taken me on as a sort of messenger and courier, right?” Vital asked of the Pegasus.
“Yes. And how does this relate to Earth? I assume that’s what this is about, since you used my old name.”
Grif reached under his desk and produced three books, one of which Pensword recognized, but thought he’d left in his office.
“You know what these are, right?” Grif asked.
Pensword’s eyes widened as adrenaline helped pull him into wakefulness. “Grif, how’d you get my copy of Hammer Strike’s translation? You’d have had to know some serious codes to get access to it.”
“Pensword, there is not a dark corner on these grounds I don’t know about, not a room I cannot enter, not a lock I cannot pick. The reason we brought you here is because—” Grif lifted the topmost and thinnest book. The sound of its fall barely registered as he dropped it onto the desk. “This is where you are currently in your thaumic studies.” He pulled a second book that was thicker and moderately heavier as it made a satisfying thump on the desk. “This is where Vital Spark is currently.” Finally, he lifted the last volume, which was more than doubly thick as the last one. The detonation rebounded off the walls when it struck the desk. “And this is where I currently am. Would you agree this is quite a visual difference?”
“Yes, it is.” Pensword raised a questioning brow. “Am I supposed to be doing something new? Is this a new lesson? And why is Vital here? Is he becoming my teacher?”
Grif created a crystal in the center of his outstretched palm and handed it to Pensword. “Disperse it safely.”
Pensword stretched out a wing, balanced the crystal, and closed his eyes to feel the aspect with his thaumic field. He smiled as he recognized the familiar rush of the air aspect. Within thirty seconds, the crystal was shrinking as the aspect flowed around his wing. Surprisingly enough, the energy bonded directly with his field, rather than dispersing into the room, like he expected it to. Still, the energy was small, so it wouldn’t put too much strain on him. He opened his eyes and smiled at his feat. “I’ve been dissipating crystals since I got back from Zebrica.”
"You know," Grif said as he pulled out a match and lit it with a flick, "I don't work with fire often. That's Hammer Strike’s thing." He placed one hand beside the flame and dragged both across the desk’s surface. Vital and Pensword watched red crystal manifest and disperse as Grif’s hand moved. “Pensword, I blame myself for you being this far behind. Clearly, I have been so waylaid in my duties that I have been a poor teacher. And sad to say, I don’t know if I can continue to teach you with the current gap between us.”
“So, Vital’s going to be my teacher? And I can see the gap. You’re dissipating the Crystals faster than me.”
“Pensword, I’ve been going over the numbers with Hammer Strike.” Grif looked to Vital and received a nod. “If you can’t make some real strides soon, your field may dissipate entirely.”
“But it’s stronger than when I lost communication with the other side. I’ve been working to improve it. Are you saying my efforts aren’t good enough? How do I make these strides?”
Grif shook his head. “You got used to the ten pound weight. The problem is you went for the eleven, rather than the fifteen. You’re not moving fast enough to counter your own atrophy, and we both know you can’t afford to be without this power when the time comes.”
“Then what is the sixteen pound weight step?”
“Vital will start teaching you the basics of things like thaumic vision through a focus and working with aspects you’re still not comfortable with. Hopefully, he’ll be a more apt instructor.”
Vital took up the narrative. “So that means I get to teach you from now on. Since you seem to take the military approach best, I’ll try to keep that in mind when we’re going through our lessons. We’ll be meeting here in Grif’s office on a regular basis at first, to prevent any people from overhearing us, at least until the proper protective enchantments and other precautions are finished being installed in our workroom. Speaking of which, Taze, when is that crystal supposed to be getting shipped in from the Empire?”
“It’s already enroute,” Grif assured him. “You’ll have your classroom ready by the end of next month.”
“Grif, how’d you get past my crystal trap to get the book in the first place, though?” Pensword asked.
“I didn’t open the drawer. I went through the back.” Grif put the thaumic crystal in question down. “Not that it would have worked, anyhow.”
“I’m not even at that stage yet,” Vital agreed. “Now, that being said, Pensword, we’re going to take our first lesson right here and right now.” The Unicorn smiled as he levitated Pensword’s glasses off his face, revealing bloodshot eyes resting on a bed of puffy bags.”Now, you’ve learned how to control your field and have it interact with other aspects. Our next step is to focus that knowledge to not only feel the aspects around you, but actually be able to see them.” He touched the lenses with his horn, then levitated the glasses back onto Pensword’s muzzle. “Tell me what you see.”
“I see you and Grif, and I see outlines around both of you. Grif in green and Vital, you’re a light blue. I also see, I think, something in one of the drawers in Grif’s Desk. And … the books have a faint aura to them as well. White.” He paused and his brow furrowed. “I see flecks of blue on both of you. And they are around the tools Hammer Strike has made for you. So does that mean blue is Hammer Strike?” He lifted his own hoof to look at it. The outline was a dark blue. “Okay, Vital. You can shut it down. By the way, how do I do that myself? How long can you hold it? Does it mean the longer you hold it, the stronger your field is?”
Vital sighed and shook his head as the auras faded from Pensword’s vision. “We’ve got a lot of work to do.”
“One warning I feel prudent to say,” Grif noted. “There are several beings on this world, beings acquainted with divine status. Do not look at them thaumically.”
“You have my word,” Pensword swore.
“And you also have mine,” Vital agreed. “Now, Pensword.” He levitated the lightest of the three volumes over, followed shortly by the middle one. “If you would be so good as to open to chapter three, it’s time to cover the theory behind the practice. Oh.” He smiled sweetly. “If you start falling asleep, I’m going to dump ice cubes down your back. Now let’s get started.”
“I’ll leave you two to it.” Grif smiled as he gestured for Vital to take the comfy chair behind the desk. He watched patiently for the inevitable and was soon rewarded. Pensword rubbed at his eyes with his wings. Grif flipped a torch holder on the wall and left via an opening that appeared. It clicked shut silently just before Pensword lowered his wings. A smirk pulled on his face as he placed a bet with himself on just how long it would be before the Pegasus’ startled cry echoed down the passageway.
He was not disappointed.
A lone figure in a black cloak passed through the streets of Grif’s compound in the dead of night, shepherded by four guards that flanked him in on all sides as they ghosted along to one of the many identical buildings that Grif had insisted be included in the living quarters’ construction. There was a swift knock, followed by an even swifter press into the building itself. Three candles flickered on a large wooden table, where two elder Gryphons flanked one younger. All wore leather armor and a series of handy weapons for close combat.
“All right, boys,” a familiar voice said as he threw back his hood to reveal a sea-like mane. “What’s Grif been doing that needs him to send a representative to stir things up in my turf? If we’re going to have to work together, anyway, I’d like to know at least a little about why.”
“Grif needed as much attention in one spot as possible,” the young one noted. “We all thought that since most of the castle staff would be with you anyway, we’d kick the bees’ nest a little, as you seem to enjoy having all the Pony business exclusive to you.”
“Now now, you all know that’s not true. We all agreed Ponyville was fair game for both sides.”
“Yes, but you’ve taken both the castle and the Thestrals for yourself,” one of the larger Gryphons noted. “We’re lucky Grif and his unit are so close or we wouldn’t even have been aware of your little meeting the other night.”
“I see. Are you saying Grif would prefer to be kept apprised of these events?”
“We’re saying that you’re cinching us out. That's not what Unity’s about. We’re supposed to be working together here.” The other elder laid his elbows on the table and rested his beak pensively on his hands. So, how are we going to fix this problem?”
“Last I recall, you gentlegryphs were perfectly happy with our original arrangement. Gambling is practically a religious virtue with most of you.” Bookie stroked his chin. “That being said, I can understand your dilemma. There are a variety of possibilities we can make use of to … alleviate this situation. One of the first being a dual partnership, of course, in which we all have an equal say and share in profit distribution and setting betting pools.”
“No more secret gatherings?” the middle Gryphon spoke up. “Especially regarding Gryphons we may or may not have knowledge about?”
“I’m an honorable business colt. I don’t deal with your Gryphons unless they come to me directly, and I’ve made sure to alert them to your local services, when they’ve arrived.”
“The Thestrals were supposed to be neutral territory,” the younger Gryphon growled, “and we know you’ve been getting all the business there. Don’t try to pretty things up, Bookie. We’re businessmen, too. Let’s not lie to each other.”
Bookie smirked. “An honest bookie? Are you trying to destroy the world?”
“Grif doesn’t want any violence between our races. He also wants everything low key. Gambling’s fine here in Unity, but you know how the princesses are. If we want to keep the good thing we’ve got going here, we need to come to some kind of actual agreement, none of this territory garbage that's not working.”
“I’ve put forth a suggestion, boys,” Bookie said frankly. He narrowed his gaze. “Now what’s your counter proposal?”
“How much do you stand to make off the bets regarding Blue Eyes?”
“Given the number of troops involved, at least five thousand, assuming nobody wins their bets.”
“Well then, how about you give us ten percent to pay for the misunderstanding that happened earlier, and from now on we meet up regularly and go over the books? We put everything into the pot and split it up equally. Equal risk, equal gain.”
Bookey frowned. “That could potentially cut into both our profits, but it is a fair proposal,” he admitted. “And assuming all goes well in the long run, we might be able to try an exchange of sorts between our employees to better help with the integration Grif and Hammer Strike are working toward.”
“Very well.”
“And do all three of you agree?” Bookie pressed.
The three gryphons considered everything for a time and exchanged furtive glances. The nods were barely perceptible. The young one in the center spoke up. “You have a deal, Bookie.”
Bookie smirked as he rose onto his hind hooves and rubbed his forehooves together. “Then let’s get to talking numbers, shall we?” He levitated a notepad out from his cloak’s pocket.
As is the inevitable nature of mother nature, the seasons finally turned in the Everfree, and green leaves began to shoot forth in delicate buds as the snow thawed and the ground began to soften. The sweet scent of fresh flowers wafted their perfumes through the air as cartload after cartload of the things rolled through the gates in a steady procession. The Ponyville Orchestra soon followed suit, led by their brilliant chairpony, Miss Octavia Melody.
The air rang with the blows of hammers and nails as a stage and dance floor were rapidly assembled. Guards and mercenaries alike patrolled with utmost diligence at Grif’s explicit command. Given the potential consequences he listed, should they fail, they were especially motivated in their exercises. Excitement and trepidation hung in the air as each of the Ponies, Gryphons, and other races did their part to prepare for yet another wedding in New Unity.
In an unusual turn of events, Trixie had decided not to go with any bridesmares or a mare of honor. Instead, she had chosen to focus more on enjoying the wedding preparations with the colt she had come to adore. The pair were busy sharing some much needed private time in the kitchens as they polished off a float together with noses touching in a manner that many would call cute and outright adorable. They would not, however, rank it anywhere near the level of toxic sweetness that was the Cutie Mark Crusaders’ begging stares.
“Nervous?” Trixie asked.
“Well, I am about to dive into one of the biggest events in both of our lives in the next couple of days,” Vital said with a playful smile. “Don’t you think I should be?”
“I suppose. I, however, am excited.” She smiled. “I can’t believe we’re going to finally do it!”
“I wonder which it you’re referring to,” Vital said as he wiggled his brows playfully. “The vows or what comes after?”
“Can’t I look forward to more than one thing?” she purred.
“Well, I can’t say that I fault that logic. After all, if they’re both in the future, it’s hard not to look forward to both, isn’t it?” He chuckled and reached over to peck her on the cheek. “I do love you, you know. I love how you make me laugh, how we can play with one another without taking offense, how you’ve grown into such an amazing mare in such a short amount of time. I can’t help but wonder, though. What did make it so you wanted me, of all the stallions you could have had?”
“What stallions could I have had?” Trixie laughed. “I was a prisoner working to prove I was more useful alive than dead. You were the first one beside Clover to care about what happened to me. You were my friend. You made me happy. As to the rest, I can’t say when it happened, just that it did.”
“Okay, but I do have one last request. Do you think that next time, maybe I can do the rescuing? I think I’ve had enough of being the damsel in distress.” Vital smirked as he kissed his bride-to-be on the lips.
“I make no promises. After all, you have a knack for getting into trouble.” Trixie smiled.
The tender moment was soon blown apart, however, when a bright green light suddenly flashed through the windows, followed by a tremendous explosion and a penetrating voice that caused the very stones to shake.
“Fools! You dare to raise your weapons against me, the Great Merasmus?” The sound of metal striking harmlessly against magic paired with the screams of the flower sisters and many a civilian. “Where is she? Where have you taken her? If my little Moon has been harmed in any way, so help me—!”
Trixie’s horn lit up in it’s dual toned magic as they teleported directly into the courtyard, where the charred remains of the stage and dance floor circled a swamp-green-furred Pony with a ram’s skull covering his head. A tight hood obscured any signs of a mane as his cloak billowed and wrapped around him with the green necrotic energies of his magic. A large leatherbound tome hung at his side, wrapped in a series of straps to hold it there, while the simple gnarled staff he held in his hoof blazed with his horn. The wooden top jutted at a ninety-degree angle, then hooked over its edge to form an almost warped sort of hook. There were no focus stones, no items to store the energies that he now called upon. If anything, the extra energy almost certainly had to come from the book at his side.
Trixie promptly advanced on the stallion, seized him in her magical grip, and lifted him into the air. She glared. “Uncle Merasmus, you stop this at once! You’re ruining the flower arrangements for my wedding!”
The green light behind the stallion’s eyes ceased to glow as the Unicorn’s staff clattered to the ground and he gaped at the tall and imposing Alicorn that now stood before him. “L-L-Lula!” he sputtered. “My little moon? Is that really you?”
“Trixie has gone through some changes, Uncle Merasmus,” Trixie said as a blush rose in her cheeks.
“Lula?” Vital asked as his smile broadened.
“Trixie!” Merasmus sobbed as he reached out to embrace his niece. That reach soon turned into a flailing, since his niece still held him in her magical grasp. “Merasmus was so worried about you!”
“If I let you go, do you promise to stop destroying my wedding?” Trixie asked.
“W-wedding?” Merasmus spluttered. “But you were being held prisoner!”
“That was over a year ago, Uncle Merasmus.” Trixie rolled her eyes.
“But I was in the planes of hell only for a half hour to gather my dark powers!”
“Everyone down! He’s got a book! He’s got a book! He’s going to read!” Two identical voices cried out together in equally grating tones.
“Oh, hello, Soldiers,” Merasmus said absently. He groaned. “Don’t tell me the rest of those buffoons are here, too.”
“Ze Scouts were sent on lookout, if zat makes you feel any bettah,” one of the Medics commented as he walked up to the Soldier.
“SOLDIERS!” Pensword bellowed as he slammed onto the cobblestones in full battle armor and glared at the two Ponies in green helmets. “Who is that?” He pointed at Merasmus.
The Soldiers shrugged as each deadpanned. “Worst roommate ever, Sir!”
“Roommate?” Pensword deadpanned. “He was a roommate?”
“FOOLS! It is you who were the worst roommates ever!” Merasmus interjected.
“Okay, all zaniness and living memes aside, can we please get around to calming everypony down and repairing all the damage you caused?” Vital asked. “Trixie and I would rather not have to worry about another delay in the wedding when we’re this close to finishing, and the delegates from Zebrica are going to be on their way here any day now.”
Trixie separated the Unicorn’s staff from his grip and teleported it away. “I’ll just put that somewhere safe, until we’re done.”
“And the bombinomicon?” Vital asked.
Merasmus gasped. “How do you know of the bombinomicon?”
Vital pointed to the Soldiers.
“Oh. Fair point.”
“Do you promise not to use its powers or summon a horde of monsters and demons or anything like that to disturb your niece’s wedding?” Vital pressed.
“As if I, the Great Merasmus, would ever do anything to effect the happiness of my ward,” he sniffed.
Vital turned to Trixie. “Can I take that as a yes?”
“Yes, probably about as straight of an answer as you’ll get.”
“And when he says ward, does he mean that he’s your legal guardian, or at least was when you were growing up?”
“He was the one who taught me about illusion magic and the only one who cared when I was unhappy, so he was the closest to a caring adult I ever had.”
“Then in that case….” Vital turned to Merasmus and bowed his head. “I know this isn’t strictly necessary, but I’m a formal colt, raised by formal parents. Merasmus, since you’re the closest thing she has to a proper father figure, it falls to you to answer this question in lieu of her birth parents. May I have the honor of your niece’s hoof in marriage?”
Merasmus narrowed his gaze. “We shall see, boy. First, I believe a few tests are in order.” His horn began to glow as the book leaped against its confines.
“I believe you promised not to use that book during your stay here,” Vital said coolly. “If you would prefer to test my skills in combat, however, I think I can manage.” He smiled as the staff the titans had crafted for him materialized in his magical grasp. “Trixie, would you mind officiating the duel?”
Merasmus grinned. “This upstart has spirit. I like that. But you shall not prevail against the might and power of Merasmus the Wizard!”
Trixie sighed and shook her head. “Colts.”
Hammer Strike sighed to himself as he made his way back to his office. His projects were on the backburner, so he had plenty of time for his apprentice. His thoughts drifted to a multitude of lessons that he could work on next, but in which order was still up in the air.
Tower Shield saluted him as he passed into his office, meaning he had no ‘guests’ arrive while he was gone. A neat stack of papers with an emerald sitting atop them laid on his desk, meaning Silent Collector and Oracle had finished the next stack for him to work on, though he didn’t remember them using gems for paperweights.
He sighed to himself as he sat in his chair, removed the gem from the stack, and began sorting through what needed his attention.
He didn’t get too far in before a strange noise chirped insistently in his ears. He frowned as he searched for the source and found the emerald pulsing with light. He shifted the paper stack aside and grabbed the emerald once more, turned it over, and scanned it in his hoof.
“I see you finally arrived in your office,” a voice came from the gemstone.
Hammer Strike frowned as he scanned the gemstone thaumically once more, only noting a faint connection to somewhere else.
“Yes, it’s a relay for me to speak to you,” the voice commented simply. “Though I didn’t expect a fragment such as you to possess the same extent of power as your whole.”
“Fragment?” Hammer Strike questioned finally.
“Clearly, you’re a fragment, though I’m unsure for how long, as you seem to gather more of yourself as each month goes by.” The voice sighed. “Since you don’t recognize me, I guess I’ll start anew. The name’s Broker, and it’s been a long time since I had the opportunity to speak with you, Hammer Strike.”
Hammer Strike hummed to himself. If he knew this person in the past, or his future, then they knew more than he did at this point, though he still didn’t understand the whole fragment reference.
“You’re looking into the Alicorn island,” Broker stated. “I’ll tell you right now, you’re not going to find anything else on it.”
“And the reason behind that is?”
“Because that book you’re studying isn’t going to be made whole through your current methods.”
“What do you mean by that?”
It took a minute before Broker finally spoke up again. “The Alicorns hid the knowledge somewhere out of reach. In particular, the world where your companions came from.”
It didn’t take much more for Hammer Strike to realize he was dealing with someone who knew way too much. “The other world?”
“Yes, where Peter, Matthew, and Conor come from, though I never caught the name of it.” He gave a faint chuckle. “I suppose I could look into asking them. Perhaps Grif, since he holds a network around the world. It wouldn’t take too much to get a connection set up.”
Hammer Strike didn’t have much he could say, having lost himself in thought.
“Look, I know you don’t know me, but I can assure you, I’m trying to help you.” He sighed. “I want my friend and ally back, and if it means having you return to places that struck a chord with you, I’ll give you all you gave me.”
“‘Places that struck a chord?’”
“I don’t know, places that had significant events happen to you. You only gave me bits and pieces of your past transgressions. Perhaps you going to these places will awaken your memories and reform you once more.”
Hammer Strike frowned as he thought it over. “All right, I’ll follow along. What have you got?”
“Within your desk, the drawer with the lock, I placed a sheet with the translation of the tablet on it. It’ll tell you where in that world they hid the fragments, at least, where they hid it back then.”
Hammer Strike opened the drawer to reveal the parchment of note, just as the voice had said. “I’m not even going to ask,” Hammer Strike muttered.
“Let me clear this up,” Broker started. “Locks mean nothing to me, nor do encryptions, nor do magical frequencies. If I want to get to something or get something done, it will be gotten and it will be done.”
Hammer Strike frowned as he relocked his drawer and placed the parchment into his coat for later. “Where do we go from here?”
“Keep this relay in your pocket somewhere, and I’ll keep in touch when needed. Until then, I’ll leave you to your guest.”
Hammer Strike suddenly became aware of the fact that someone was walking up to his office. When he looked back at the gem stone, the light had died and the voice was gone, leaving him with the inevitable conclusion that Broker had deactivated it for the time being. His frown deepened as he stashed the gem in his breast pocket. “Come in, Grif.”
The Gryphon jumped straight to the point as he shut the door behind him. “I have some updates on Daring’s book. It’s not looking good,” he admitted.
Hammer Strike suddenly sealed the room around them thaumically. “I don’t think we have to worry about that for much longer.” He reached into his coat and passed the parchment over to Grif. “Someone else already translated the tablet for us.”
Grif snatched the paper. “The hell? I have people all over Equis looking for leads on this. Who do you know that i don’t?”
“Someone from the past, it seems.” Hammer Strike frowned. “His name’s Broker. Kept calling me a fragment of myself. He says he’s helping in hopes it will ‘make me whole again.’ He knows a lot, and I do mean a lot. He knows of your network, what we’ve been looking for, and of the fact that you’re from Earth.”
“Can we trust him?” Grif raised an eyebrow.
“He didn’t appear to hold any ill will toward us. And with everything he knows, he could have already put a severe hold on ninety percent of the things we have going. He snuck into my office undetected, and into New Unity without anyone knowing, it seems.” The Earth Pony furrowed his brow. “He clearly knows our weak spots, but only focused on helping us.”
“It’s unsettling, but I suppose there isn’t much we can do about it right now.”
“He said he might contact you sometime in the future, so keep an eye out.”
“You know I will. Maybe, hopefully, I can catch something you might have missed.”
“Hopefully so.” Hammer Strike frowned. “Because I do not want a repeat of this.”
“Perhaps we should add to your security detail?”
“We’ll look into that later. I want to know what we’re looking up against what’s on that parchment.”
“I’ll take it to Clover.”
“Good. Let me know as soon as any new information surfaces.”
“All right, guys. Is the blindfold really that necessary?” Vital Spark asked as he was ushered along by hoof, wing, and talon. “It’s not like I’m going to catch sight of your plans just by walking down a hall.”
“But where’s the fun in that?” Pensword replied. “It’s part of the charm.”
“Did you have to be blindfolded at your bachelor parties?”
“I’d just taken a fortress said to be unconquerable. We didn’t have the luxury of a bachelor party. There was a war going on. But the time after the wedding was, well, it was where we conceived Moon River.”
“Grif, Hammer Strike? Assuming you two are here, back me up here!” Vital exclaimed.
“I don’t think I had one either,” Grif noted. “In either case.”
“I burn through most blindfolds, so…” Hammer Strike shrugged helplessly.
“So, I pretty much have to endure it till we arrive, don’t I?” Vital sighed.
“Pretty much,” Pensword replied cheerfully.
“Great. Just great.” Vital snorted and rolled his eyes behind the blindfold. How much farther, Rook?”
“Why tell you? It’ll spoil the surprise.”
“... I hate you all so much right now.”
“Aww, now that’s just adorable.” Grif chuckled as they continued down the hall.
Trixie blinked in utter shock at what had just transpired. The pink Pony had defied the very laws of physics yet again, this time by literally falling to pieces after the mare had let out a startled yelp and a bolt of magic that struck the wall and bounced off of several carefully placed mirrors to finally smash into a giant disco ball that began to spin and fire off colored beams of light with silhouettes of a familiar mare in a long cloak with a cocked and pointed hat.
Hooves waved over a crystal ball. Fireworks stood frozen above a glowing horn. A focus smashed against training dummies. A great scythe cleaved through a blob that she assumed was meant to be a facsimile of Chrysalis without actually being Chrysalis. After all, the party mare didn’t generally condone that sort of violence. Crazy antics and magic bolts were one thing. Killing was another.
It didn’t take long for the partygoers to recover as Pinkie’s parts burst into confetti and streamers and the party mare appeared in another part of the room with a triumphant, “Tada!”
“What is this?” Trixie asked, looking around in utter confusion.
“It’s your bachelorette party, of course, silly! You’re getting married. Every mare’s supposed to have one of these before the big day,” Pinkie said as she pulled Trixie’s head close and blew a large party horn.
“But Trixie has no friends for such a party,” Trixie noted.
“You still deserve it,” Pinkie noted, “so even if we’re not friends, we’re gonna make this a night to remember. Cue the music, Gummie!” Pinkie shouted. Over in the corner, Vinyl Scratch stood at her turntable with both hooves on the records. Gummy blinked a few times, then swung his tail with deliberate slowness to nudge the needle onto the record. Music blasted into the room.
“Come on. Music, games, drinks, food, and not a colt in sight. Time for a girl’s night, baby!” Pinkie zipped over to the center of the room and pulled out her party cannon from … nowhere, but somewhere. She yanked on the cord and sent a shower of confetti all over. “As official mare of ceremonies and party planner, I now proclaim this bachelorette party officially started!”
Various mares from Clover’s training workshops and courses stood there with sheepish smiles on their faces. Twilight, Applejack, Fluttershy, and Rarity each offered a casual salute or other means of introduction, but Rarity was the first to actively approach the mare properly. “Darling, with all our rush over your order, I don’t think I ever got the chance to say this. I do hope you’ll forgive me for being so careless, but welcome to the family.” She smiled.
“How do you figure that?” Trixie asked with a raised eyebrow.
“Vital Spark views Hammer Strike, Grif, and Pensword as brothers, and they likewise him. True, it’s not a blood-bond, but the connection is still strong between them.”
“Interesting…. Tell trixie something. What happened to the remains of her cart?” she asked.
Rarity winced. “Honestly, I can’t say.”
“That cart was more than a stage, you know. It had been my home since I left Neigh Orleans. I pulled it from one end of this country to the other. I played shows in towns from Little Hoof to Appleloosa and cities from Trottingham to Manehatten. It held all my spare clothing, everything I owned in the world, including drawings given to me from foals, foals who had seen my show and, much like my exemplar Hoofdinni did for me, were inspired by it.
“All the time I had that cart, I found good ponies who took my show goodnaturedly and met my challenges with grace and laughter. It’s funny I should lose it in the town with so little self esteem that they had to heckle me from the crowd and took my tricks as a personal insult. The day I lost that cart, I lost my credibility as a stage magician. I feel no pride over what I did under the effects of the alicorn amulet, but a nice party and a dress do not sweep old wounds under the rug. I don’t hate you, but it will be a long time before I can consider you family.”
Rarity frowned. “I admit, there are some things that still bother me as well, and I’d like to understand more. Namely, why did you come to Ponyville and make such outlandish claims in the first place?”
Trixie levitated a cup of punch over and took a sip to gather her thoughts. “Have you ever been in a play, Rarity?” Trixie asked. “Or at least seen a play?”
“Yes.”
“Do you honestly believe that every year they have a Unicorn named Princess Platinum who’s whiny and self-centered, a Pegasus named Commander Hurricane who’s aggressive and cocky, and a possibly insane Earth Pony named Chancellor Puddinghead go on stage and learn a lesson when a mare named Clover the Clever discovers the fires of friendship?” Trixie asked.
“Well, no, I suppose not,” Rarity said.
“It’s called a persona. I would figure for one who considers herself connected with the world that you would at least be familiar with the term. It’s used all the time in operas and plays, and even among models, I believe.”
“And you were modeling this persona when you … oh, dear.” A few too many things clicked into place at once. “No wonder you were so angry at us.”
“Thank you for the dress, Rarity, but please understand it will be some time before old wounds heal.” With that said, Trixie turned around and left to join a separate group of Ponies, while Rarity was left to ponder her own personal failings.
“Okay, Grif, lay it on me,” Vital sighed as he eyed the critical fail he had just rolled in their campaign. “The luck of the Irish is clearly not with me tonight.”
“Your fireball collapses before you can throw it. Take…” Grif gave a roll and let out a whistle. “Six points of fire damage.”
“And that’s what I get for choosing an ice dragon for my character.” Vital groaned and smacked his muzzle against the edge of the table. “Murphy, old friend, why don’t you get us a couple of drinks? I get the feeling it’s going to be a long campaign.”
Pensword smiled as he rolled. It was his third character and they finally let him be a Ranger. “And I crit hit with my bow.” He rolled again. “And max damage with my dice.” He looked to Grif. “I told you I had to be a Ranger.”
Big Mac just smiled behind his tankard as Spike stared at the dice.
Hammer Strike hummed to himself as he turned the page of the book he was reading. It had been mutually agreed that he would have to oversee the game and interact only as a deity brought in by the DM when he constantly kept rolling crits on everything for the character build.
“And while the ranger’s shot flies true, a massive gust of wind blows in an opposing direction of the arrow, causing it to veer off wildly,” Grif noted, not looking up from his screen.
Pensword ground his teeth in frustration, but held his tongue.
“My turn. My turn!” Spike grinned as he snatched the dice greedily and shook them fiercely in his talons. “I cast a freeze spell to hold our adversaries in place!” He rolled, and the whole room held its breath.
Everyone groaned as the die landed on a seven. With the dragon’s Charisma modifier, that boosted the value up to a measly ten.
“You hit, but the spell isn’t strong enough to penetrate their armor,” Grif informed the dragon.
“Then it falls to me,” Pipsqueak said.
“And me!” Button Mash added. “Ready for a double team, Pipsqueak?”
The young foal grinned as the two of the seized their dice. “My barbarian uses ferocious roar to confuse the enemy and demoralize them.” Pipsqueak let the die fly. He grinned. “YES!” he crowed. “Eighteen with a modifier of plus two to give me twenty!”
“Your roar rumbles through the air, terrifying all who hear it and causing your enemies to stumble as they attempt to back off.” Grif grinned.
“My turn,” Button said savagely. “I attack with a flurry of hammer blows!”
The room let out a collective gasp as the die rolled to a halt against Grif’s divider. It nearly landed on a devastating nineteen, only to knock back to reveal a miniscule two. “Aw man,” he groaned. “A five?”
“Sorry, Button. Somehow, you manage to miss your flurry of blows,” Grif sighed.
“I use my paladin’s skill to reroll!” Button cried out quickly as he snatched up the die again. “Come on,” he whispered. “Please….” He threw the die. It bounced. It tumbled. It rolled, and stopped just short of the table’s edge with a prominent nine. “Twelve,” he sighed. “I guess that’s better than five.”
“They’re scared and confused, so i’ll give you this one,” Grif said. “Roll for damage.”
A new die rolled. It landed on two.
“Well, you hit for two damage.”
“I guess that’s better than nothing, and my armor’s super tough, so I should be okay.” Button sighed. “Still wish I’d rolled better.”
“Such is the way of things in games of chance,” Vital said sagely.
“Oh, I love these games,” Chance said with a grin as he hovered over the table. “How about you, Hammer Strike?”
“I do as well, but your sister takes some of the fun out of it.” Hammer Strike chuckled as he gave a quiet response.
“You mean Destiny?”
“Luck, in particular.”
“Fate always calls her a big flirt. Is she bothering you?” Chance asked as he eyed the golden mist that was his sister floating through the room and fltting from player to player.
“It’s all right. So long as they’re having fun, I’m content. Perfect characters tend to get boring.”
Chance went rigid. “... She gave you … a perfect character?”
“Either that or I’m lucky enough on my own,” Hammer Strike shrugged. “Strangely hard to tell sometimes.”
“How many times?” he asked. The once-childish demeanor had fallen away to a deadly sobriety that struck a startling contrast on the young face.
Hammer Strike shrugged. “Two character sheets.”
“... I see. Excuse me for a moment, Hammer Strike.” Chance turned on the golden mist and his voice suddenly bellowed in a deep reverberating bass as he stomped his hoof on the ground. “LUCK!”
Grif winced and shivered. “Hammerstrike, try to keep it down, will ya?” he yelled semi-goodnaturedly.
“I’ll see what I can manage.” Hammer Strike sighed.
The golden mist thickened into a great clod that swirled and caressed several of the beings present. It was noticeably slower around Grif and Hammer Strike, before it finally coalesced in front of Chance in the form of a Unicorn mare with a swirling mane and tail in a familiar style reminiscent of a certain fashionista. “Yes, Chance?” she asked in a sultry and innocent tone.
“Don’t you ‘yes, Chance’ me, young lady. You’re deliberately warping the odds again. I’ve warned you about this.” Chance flared his wings, and his shadow swelled to immensity behind him as his fury continued to build. “You’re ruining the fun, and more importantly, you’re interfering with my duties. Once or twice earning the maximum roll is one thing. Four times is incredible. More than twenty separate rolls is practically impossible to accomplish on chance alone, and much more than luck. You’re going to stop ruining his chances at playing with his friends or I’m going to have to send you to your room and tell on you.”
“But I have to do so little for him,” she purred. “He is inherently so much more than most mortals.”
Hammer Strike looked up from his book at this point with a questioning brow.
“Oh. Something I said interested you?” Luck asked Hammer Strike.
“I’m curious as to what you mean,” Hammer Strike clarified.
“What I mean by what?” Luck fluttered her eyelashes at him.
“‘More than most mortals.’ I’m curious as to how far of a difference in terms of the embodiments.”
“Most mortals are born with an inherent luck value,” Luck explained. She waved her hand around the room and numbers popped over people's heads. Most ranged from ten to sixteen. Grif had a twenty over his head. “And from there, I just prod them every now and then to make things a little more odd, but I’ve never seen a mortal or even an immortal with a score above twenty-five. She reached above Hammer Strike’s head and seemed to grab something, which she tugged down for him to see a forty-two hovering softly above her hoof.
“That explains a few things,” Hammer Strike hummed.
Chance frowned. “I still don’t like it,” he groused.
“Yet is beyond either of our control,” Luck reminded him.
“Did you prod him during the setup?”
“Not really,” Luck admitted.
Chance sighed. “Then I guess I owe you an apology.” His wings tucked tightly to his side as he hung his head and his ears drooped. “Sorry, Sis.”
Luck shrugged as she began to lose cohesion and disperse. “It’s fine.”
“See you at the family dinner?”
“Of course.”
“Damn it!” Vital swore.
“... After I attend to the rest of the game.”
“Thanks for letting us try this, Trixie,” Sweetie said with a smile as she continued to run the file over the Alicorn’s hoof. “We never gave anypony manicures before!”
“Still no sign of a cutie mark, though,” Applebloom noted as she applied a green paste to Trixie’s face.
“Darn,” Scootaloo said, then resumed sticking her tongue out as she struggled to work with braiding Trixie’s mane.
Trixie smiled indulgently. “I’m sure you’ll each find your mark in time.”
“Say, Trixie, now that you’re, you know, an Alicorn and all that, does that mean you really could beat an Ursa if you tried?” Sweetie asked curiously.
“I won’t make any judgement until I have a chance to test it this time.” Trixie found herself suddenly grateful for the mask Applebloom was applying.
“I heard a guard say Princess Luna did it once. Maybe you can ask her for some tips.”
“Perhaps,” Trixie agreed.
“Is the lady ready for her massage?” Bulk asked as he cracked his neck and shrugged his shoulders.
“Okay, girls. Can you let me go for now?” Trixie looked to the CMC.
“Statistics show that a proper massage is the best way to relax and get rid of pre-wedding jitters,” Dinkie said matter-of-factly. “That, and maybe a little telepathic nudge.”
“We can take care of our own makeovers while we wait,” Sweetie said. “It’ll be fun!”
Scootaloo looked like she was ready to gag. “That’s not the word I’d use.”
Apple Bloom smirked as she held up a gob of face mask. “Who says we have ta do it the usual way?”
A collective shudder passed through the room, and Bulk hastened to escort his client behind the screen that had been erected for privacy and possibly protection against what the fillies may or may not have had planned.
Apple Bloom shouted at the top of her lungs. “Mud fight!” She flung a gob of the substance at Scootaloo.
To the ends of time, nopony would be able to explain how the girls managed to get the entire room coated in the stuff, not to mention how the solution had separated to expose the key ingredient of tree sap, which left their fur and manes entirely matted, snarled, and raggedy. Trixie and Bulk were the only survivors. The Alicorn was wise enough to raise a protective barrier on top of the protection from the screen. The rest of the room did not fare so well.
Extended Holiday Chapter 154: The Wedding Singers Act 26
“So, quick question. Am I supposed to start singing or something? I mean, this is supposed to be my big wedding day, right? Don’t most Ponies have some sort of big musical number and/or get smacked in the face whenever they try to start one?” Vital asked as he fiddled with the clasp on his cape for the twentieth time. Silvery white pauldrons had been included over his shoulders, while the suit itself had been adapted to reflect the snow and ice that was his main element for magic. The translucent fabric of the cloak shimmered and shifted to put on a series of dazzling snowflake patterns. The doublet had been trimmed to a tight cut along his barrel. The blue fabric merged with the a creeping white to simulate the effects of a morning frost. As a final touch, Rarity included a glamour in the snowflake charm to spread a glittering artificial sleeve that would bend and shift with his body without actually tearing. His horseshoes were a polished blue-white that trailed a pure snow-white mist behind them.
Aria was busy trilling as she sidled up next to Renati with wide eyes. The phoenix regarded the young cryophoenix with curiosity, though no real sense of attachment. El Fluffy and Sylvio each sat next to one another as they watched the preparations and kept an eye on the door. If anyone wanted to disturb the five friends and their preparations without proper cause, the consequences would be … unpleasant.
“You want a heart song, have one after the ceremony,” Grif said as he checked the plates of his dress armor.
“You think I’ll jinx something and cause … well, I’m not going tempt fate or Murphy by saying what, but you get what I mean, right?” Vital asked yet again. He levitated a tall glass of water and drank lustily from it, then pulled at the collar on the cape. “Why do these things have to be so tight?”
“It’s in your mind.” Pensword answered. “Rarity made it. So, unless you’ve suddenly gained a few pounds in the last couple of minutes, you’ll be fine. Take a few breaths. Unless traditions have changed over the last few years, we don’t want the stallion passing out before the ceremony’s even begun.”
“At least the pranking stopped. Do you have any idea how many wards I had to set up before your fellow Pegasi finally got the hint?” Vital asked.
“Forty-three,” Grif noted.
“Plus binding and tripping jinxes,” Vital added. “I’d have tried luck magic, but Clover warned me my luck was bad enough as is. I’m inclined to agree with her, given my previous track record.”
“Everything will be fine.” Rook laughed as he straightened the clasp on Vital’s cloak again. “We have constant patrols going everywhere, and we are in the most secure place in Equestria. Just relax and look forward to what's to come.”
“Is this sort of thing just genetic in boys?” Vital asked as he ran a brush through his mane again. The hairs had grown long enough to show traces of gold beneath the silver, which proved a welcome surprise and distraction for the Unicorn as he dealt with the preparations. The hairs had been groomed into a messy faux braid. He groaned. “My parents are gonna kill me for this, too. I mean, they should understand, but still. They won’t even get an announcement.”
“My parents’ bloodline wasn’t even formed when I got married,” Pensword teased back. “Just bring lots of pictures and maybe announcement of grandfoals, and they should forgive you. Mine did.”
“I … need to sit down. Anybody got Rarity’s fainting couch handy?”
“You’ll be fine,” Hammer Strike commented with a chuckle. “Deep breaths.”
“I am. I feel like a freaking steam engine with the number of deep breaths I’m taking,” Vital grumbled. Then he sighed. “I guess I should at least thank my lucky stars that none of the nobles are going to be here, at least none that we don’t approve of.”
“You don’t sound like a steam engine,” Pensword teased. “And I would know. And yes, there is that consolation. And Zecora will be able to connect with some family from Zebrica as well, right?”
“True. I am looking forward to that. Though I guess it might be bittersweet, all things considered. I still miss the old tribe.” Vital frowned. “But I like to think that they’re happy with how things have turned out.”
“There are worse things that can happen.” Grif nodded. “At least they parted with you as friends.”
“Okay, so how much longer till the ceremony now?” Vital asked for what had to be the fourteenth time.
Everyone in the room facehoofed, taloned, or pawed respectively.
The wedding hall was decorated with simplicity and taste. A series of pale gold-cream flowers acted as buntings for the tulle that draped in curving swaths along the edges of the great hall. A small choir had been assembled to sing in honor of the couple’s wedding. Their music was light and playful with all the bubbly joy and subtle nerves that a wedding inspires in a couple. Friends and guests alike sat in chairs and smiled at the sight of the arrangements on the dais.
Red flowers ringed in black and white formed a pair of hearts, each with a picture of Vital and Trixie rendered in other flowers at each heart’s center. A small gable had been erected to shelter the bride and her groom as they took their vows together and prepared to step into the rest of their lives. Hammer Strike stood at the front with his usual blank expression as he waited for the big moment to arrive. Grif, Pensword, and Black Rook each stood to Vital’s side as they awaited the bride’s arrival.
It didn’t take long. The doors opened with a mighty slam as Merasmus stepped forward in a pristine black robe with brown and green accents. His tome hung silently at his side, for once not struggling to break free of its bonds. A new ram’s skull had been mounted on his head with long polished black plated horns and a baleful green fire that flickered from it like a mane to cast the magician in a mystic afterglow. His staff rested in his forehoof as he looked over the gathering and finally rested his gaze on the Unicorn that was to be his niece’s husband.
Trixie’s dress was a flowing white that had been cut in the front with various geometric shapes filled in with gemstones. The streamline nature of the fabric stretched down her curves and draped like a silvery waterfall down her sides. Her wings were tucked demurely as she approached with a freely flowing mane that had been carefully brushed and conditioned to shine in the light. Her sapphire eyes flickered between gold and black and back again as she looked about the crowd. Her dress’ train billowed behind her like the two princess’ manes. When she locked eyes with her fiancé, the color settled to a familiar warm blue. A silver tiara encrusted with emeralds and rubies crowned her head as the veil trailed down behind her to obscure her mane. A series of dark glittering patches hammed the back of the dress and rose like a cloud to simulate the contrast between light and shadow. Her hooves were bedecked in burnished and polished black horseshoes that shone like glass and tied the ensemble together with small glittering specks that shone like stars.
“Shall we, Little Moon?” her uncle asked.
“If you would be so kind, Uncle.” Trixie smiled.
The pair advanced without issue or objection. Many a Pony gaped at the beauty and majesty that Trixie now carried so naturally in her new form. As an extra precaution, both Soldiers had been bound and gagged to ensure they couldn't do anything to ruin the moment on Trixie’s special day. Celestia, Luna, Zecora, and the various delegates all nodded their respect and acknowledgement to the bride as she passed down the aisle. Epona waved with a gentle smile as Link and Zelda held onto tiny satchels, doubtless filled with rice or confetti. The CMC all beamed as they trailed behind Trixie, scattering flower petals.
At last, the pair took their place at the dais, and Merasmus stood off to the side to allow his niece to stand before her fiancé, while the four flower girls took their places in their reserved seats at the front.
“You look stunning,” Vital whispered.
“Thank you.” Trixie smiled. “And you look handsome.”
“Still the clutz you know and love, just a little more polish.” He smirked. “And now, with this newest addition to my hairstyle, no longer a Blueblood lookalike.”
“Good. Don’t go changing on me.”
Hammer Strike struck his hoof heavily against the floor to gather everyone’s attention. Then he took a deep breath and began to speak.
“Friends, family, guests, we are gathered here today to witness the joining of two souls in matrimony: Vital Spark and Trixie Lulamoon. Neither come from wealth or are of any substantial rank, but both have proven themselves to be capable, loyal, and trustworthy to each other and to those whom they have deemed fit to name friend. Now, as the head of state in New Unity, and as a friend, it is my duty to preside over this wedding and to officiate it. I do things straightforward and by the book, and this ceremony will be no different. He scanned the crowd. “As such, I am obligated to ask that if there is anyone who objects to this union, please speak up now or forever hold your peace.” He peered intently over the chamber. Nopony stirred.
He nodded in satisfaction and turned to the Unicorn stallion. “Vital Spark, do you take Trixie Lulamoon to be your lawfully wedded companion, to share in her joys and her sorrows, to safeguard and cherish her as long as you both shall live?”
“I do,” Vital said as he fixed his gaze on his bride.
“And do you, Trixie Lulamoon, take Vital Spark to be your lawfully wedded companion, to share in his joys and sorrows, to safeguard and cherish him as long as you both shall live?”
“I do.” Trixie returned his gaze with equal passion.
“Then by the power vested in me as Lord of these lands, I hereby pronounce you mare and colt. You may kiss.”
The pair did so, and their horns sparked together as they touched.
“Just wait till we go over our vows later,” Vital whispered as they broke the connection, then winked.
“I look forward to it.” She winked back.
Some cheered. Others clopped their hooves politely or nodded their heads. The best creatures smiled at the union, while those who sat in the places reserved for family and guests of honor saluted in their own ways.
“So, do you want to announce the next part, or should I?” Vital asked his new wife.
“Go ahead.”
“Vital turned to their guests and smiled. “Well, everyone, now that the wedding part’s over, it’s time for the party to start. Since it was planned by only the very best and most skilled of our friends, I am certain it will prove to be a memorable experience, albeit perhaps not so grand as some of our other more recent weddings. Please, proceed to the great hall. There, you will find refreshments, games, and various forms of entertainment. That, and it’ll give us all a proper chance to mingle for a change.” He winked at them. “We’ll meet you down there.” And with that said, the two ponies disappeared in a flash of light with a loud poofing noise.
Chamber music played lazily through the air as the Ponyville Orchestra followed the program Octavia had drawn up as part of the evening’s festivities. True to tradition, Trixie made sure to shove a piece of cake in Vital’s face and he hers. Rarity nearly fainted out of shock at the sight of the icing and cake falling in fragments on her designs, but managed to recover with some assistance from Hammer Strike.
Then came the procession of guests greeting and congratulating the couple on their success. Mayor Mare offered her experience, and Berry’s … suggestions proved enough to leave both Ponies blushing furiously as she gave way to the next well-wishers.
A familiar gray mare with uneven eyes strode forward accompanied by a brown colt with an hourglass cutie mark. He pulled uncomfortably at his collar and bowtie. “I still don’t get why I have to wear this. I’m The Doctor!”
“And this isn’t your party,” Derpy countered. Her sequined dress flashed silver with occasional streaks of gold that passed through as she flared her wings. “Now be nice.” Then she raised her basket and smiled at the couple. “Hello, Vital, Trixie. Congratulations. Here! Have some muffins. I baked them fresh this morning.”
“Thanks, Derpy.” Vital accepted the basket gratefully and offered a muffin to his bride. “Peanut butter chip,” he sang. “Your favorite.”
Trixie grinned as she seized it in her magic and took a chomp. She chewed and swallowed in ecstacy, before she spoke. “Yes! Thank you so much.”
“All this standing is exceptionally tiring.” He smirked. “Have fun, you two. And try not to disrupt the proceedings with some titanic time-related threat, please.”
“And get even farther in Hammer Strike’s debt?” The Doctor balked. “No, thank you.” He sniffed and shook his head. “Come on, Derpy. Let’s give the old dance floor a whirl, eh?”
Derpy giggled as her husband seized her. “Oh, Doctor.”
Vital smiled. “They make such a cute couple, don’t they?”
“Speaking of couples,” Rarity said as she and Hammer Strike approached the pair, “You two looked absolutely perfect.” She smiled at Vital Spark, though the light in her eyes dimmed as she looked on Trixie.
“So far. Though Trixie may have to worry about my clumsy hooves, if we go too fast on that dance floor.” He chuckled and pecked her on the cheek. “Think you can avoid the worst of it?” he asked her.
“I think we’ll get along fine.” She returned the peck.
Next, Merasmus came. “I am glad to see you so happy, my dear,” he said in a surprisingly gentle voice. “I hope that happiness will remain.” His eyes began to glow as he turned his gaze on Vital Spark. “And if it doesn’t, because of anything you do...” he growled.
“Trixie will make me regret it before you can even touch me,” Vital countered quickly.
“I’d appreciate you not threatening my husband at my wedding, Uncle,” Trixie added.
“Merely catching up on lost time, Trixie. Normally, I should have been allowed to challenge him to a duel to prove his worth. And besides, I’m supposed to harass the coltfriends, remember? At least, I believe that’s what the book on parenting mentioned,” he said as he tapped his chin and pondered.
“Where’s my roomie, Maggot?” a gruff voice shouted over the crowd. Merasmus’ eyes widened.
“And with that, I’ll have to be going. Tata, you two,” he said and quickly disappeared in a gout of green flame.
“So he’s both upset with and afraid of the Soldiers?” Vital asked. “Curious.”
“So, Vital, how’s it feel to be a married man?” Grif chuckled as he noogied the groom.
Vital cried out in surprise, then laughed. “Rarity would kill you if she saw you mussing my mane and suit like this. But I suppose it could have been worse.” He looked at his wife. “I mean, I do get to have a kind, caring, and exceptionally protective Alicorn to love for the rest of my days. What’s not to like?”
“A good outlook to have, especially when she can slice you clean in two the moment you’re unfaithful to her,” Shrial teased.
“Oh, come now, Shrial, that’s not fair,” Avalon said as she approached with Snowy peching on her shoulder.
“Who,” Snowy agreed.
“You two aren’t gonna stop moving forward with your plans, just because you got hitched, are you?” Gilda asked.
“Nope. Speaking of which, how’re the cubs coming?”
Gilda shrugged. “Pretty quiet, most of the time. They’re real sleepers, I guess.”
“Wait a while longer. Pretty sure the they’ll be fighters, like their mom.”
Gilda blushed. “... Thanks,” she finally said.
“You guys ready for tonight’s entertainment?” Vital asked.
“Yeah.” Grif smiled. “Maybe I’ll finally get to see this mysterious Gryphon everyone's talking about.”
“That’ll be a thing to see,” Pensword quipped as he approached with his wives in tow.
“I’m looking forward to it. I wonder which song he’ll choose this time.”
“I dunno. I heard a rumor he might not be alone this time,” Grif said.
“Odd. I heard that rumor as well, from Fox Feather, actually.” Pensword smirked. “If we’re going to speculate, then I have a feeling it’s going to be the Mrs.”
“Who says it’ll only be one?” Vital countered mischievously. “It’s not unusual for a Gryphon to have a whole pride, if memory serves,” he added with a wink. “But that’s neither here nor there. Mind if I ask what you’ve got there, Pensword? You look like you’re nearly ready to burst over it.”
“Oh, these?” Pensword smirked. “Why not open and find out?”
“What do you think, Dear?” Vital asked, trying the word for one of the first times and smiling with satisfaction at the shudder that ran through Trixie. “Should I now or wait till we work with the rest of the gifts?”
“Go ahead. It can’t hurt,” she offered encouragingly.
Vital pecked her on the cheek. “I love you. Just hope you can wait for our special gift till after the festivities.” He winked at her, then tore off the wrappings to reveal the familiar glossy coating of book covers. The pages flickered like a riff of cards, exposing a series of musical notes that tied one to another. “Pensword, are these…?”
“What do you think?” He grinned. “I think they should be played, not just looked at.”
Vital embraced his friend. “Thank you.”
Lunar Fang presented a small box wrapped in black paper and silver ribbon.
“Whats this?” Trixie asked as she seized the box in her magic.
“It’s a gift from the clan, meant to show that we consider you a friend and an ally, and that we respect your ability to walk the fine line between the night and the day.” Lunar Fang smiled.
Trixie opened the box slowly, revealing a knife resting in a sheath of tanned leather that was carefully etched with the image of two Alicorns, one lighter and the other in dark relief, dancing around each other. The handle was carved of dark wood and ivory and depicted two sets of wings interlocking together. A small guard shaped like two alicorns looking in either direction divided the handle from the sheath. The horns formed the greater portion of the metal to guide opposing blades to the Alicorns’ heads.
Trixie carefully lifted the gift from its pillow and unsheathed it to reveal a crucible steel blade with a single lethal smooth edge on one side and a serrated blade on the other. Despite its ornate nature, even the most amature of Ponies who saw it could tell it was made strong to handle the tasks it’s mistress would require. The Alicorns’ wings wrapped down the grip to the pommel to clutch a polished and rounded tigerseye with its artificial slitted pupil staringo ut from the black and orange flecks that formed the iris.
Trixie actually felt tears trickle down her muzzle as she replaced the knife in the box. “It’s beautiful. Thank you. I’ll cherish it.”
“Care for it, and it will care for you.” Lunar Fang nodded and smiled warmly.
The next to greet the couple were the two royal sisters. Celestia smiled in that motherly way as she looked to the younger Ponies, though a flicker of sadness shone in the back of her eyes. Luna nodded to the both of them with an air of calm.
“Congratulations to the both of you,” Celestia said.
“Thank you,” Vital returned. “I’m going to assume you told a little white lie to your court and said you were coming on a visit to see Twilight?”
Celestia smirked and winked playfully. “Got it in one.”
“How did you two manage to get the delegates here without raising a commotion? I thought that would’ve raised some white flags.”
“A little creative scheduling.” Luna grinned. “Most nobility think they aren't arriving until tomorrow afternoon.”
“Very sly,” Vital complimented. “I can practically hear the cries of anguish going off at the capital now.”
“My, I never thought you to have a vindictive streak, Vital Spark,” Celestia teased.
“Things change after you spend enough time here on Equis,” Vital said with a shrug. “That, and the nobles are usually pushy and annoying. There are a few I’ve come to like, though.”
Celestia chuckled. “Be careful who hears that, Vital. Otherwise, you may never hear the end of it.”
“Either that or Trixie and I can just threaten them for getting too much into our space.” Vital winked at his wife. “Sound like fun, Trixie?”
“Oh, yes.” Trixie grinned.
“Let us know when you want to go public, then, and I’ll make sure to send them your way,” Celestia said with a perfectly straight face and an angelic smile.
“And here we see the mighty Trollestia in her natural habitat, seeking to unnerve her subjects with sarcastic or teasing humor,” Vital said in his best impersonation of a posh Canterlot accent. “Isn’t she majestic?”
Pensword rolled his eyes in the distance and hid a smile behind his wing. It was inevitable that the solar monarch would troll at least once.
“Anyway, we hope you two enjoy the festivities, and we thank you for your gifts. I just wonder if Zecora will appreciate it as much as I do,” Vital said as he looked in the distance, where the representatives were interacting with Big Guns. The Zebras were fascinated by his more plant-like attributes, while the Minotaurs were more interested in his story and education in the ways of his new form. Iron Will exchanged greetings with his fellows from the Stampede Grounds and clapped Big Guns enthusiastically on the back.
Two pairs of solid insect eyes soon met the couple, and Vital Spark smiled as he rubbed necks with both friends in the equine equivalent of a hug. Me-Me and Mutatio both had experienced a new set of changes.
The queen had grown taller and, surprisingly enough, more regal in her appearance than Chrysalis. Her mane, while not ethereal, like Luna or Celestia’s, looked far healthier and fuller than the drab green locks that had framed the wicked queen’s face. Her body was less gnarled, and her chitin shone glossily in the light. A filmy blue dress with ruby accents served only to highlight her luminous wings and longer horn. Her crown had broadened from the cheaper mimicry of a party topper to a fully developed circlet, complete with hardened secretions designed to look like precious jewels seated in each of the ridges along her brow.
Mutatio looked uncomfortable in the suit jacket that now covered his broad chest. His chiton strained underneath the fabric, revealing just how much he had developed as a stallion since their last encounter. His pincers had grown, along with a form of unique collar not unlike Celestia’s Peytral. As with his mate, a series of faux gems adorned this biological addition and complemented his queen’s crown to prove his connection to her as head drone, consort, and mate. A polished set of red metal horseshoes bedecked his hooves.
“It’s so good to see the both of you again,” Vital said with a grin. “Loving the new royal garb, by the way.” He winked at the pair. “I’m guessing things have been busy around the hive?”
“As far as I was aware, you saw the recent product of my children's hard work.” Me-Me smiled proudly. “Joy may not be as filling as love, but that section of the hive seemed to have put a smile on the entire colony’s face.”
“I wonder if that’s why things went wrong with your mother’s hive in the first place,” Vital mused. “In most other species’ diets, there has to be a balance, especially if one is omnivorous. What if it’s the same for emotivores?”
“That’s a possibility.” Me-Me nodded. “Mother didn’t exactly leave any of us room to question it.”
“Well, I hope you’re able to channel plenty of the love we have here to the hive, then. I’m sure there’s going to be more than enough to around. Wouldn’t you say, Trixie?” Vital asked as he smirked at the mare.
“I’m sure there is plenty.” Trixie nodded. “Just don’t take too much. We’ll need a lot for tonight.”
“Would that be before or after I try to carry you across the threshold?”
“Perhaps I should carry you?” Trixie teased.
“Well, we could carry each other, I suppose,” Vital mused. “But that might look a little strange, having us both levitate into the bedroom under each other’s auras.”
“True.” She nodded.
Vital chuckled. “I love you, Trixie.” Then he turned to Mutatio. “So, are you just going to stay quiet the whole night, Mutatio? We haven’t heard a word from you yet.”
Mutatio smiled warmly. “I’ve come to enjoy listening to the conversation before making a statement. And as my mate’s drone, it is my duty to keep an eye out for any trouble that might bring her harm.”
“Always on top of things.” Me-Me nuzzled him. “We’re safe here.”
He smiled and nuzzled her back. “I know, but if I can’t keep an eye on the surroundings at small gatherings like this, I’ll get sloppy when it matters most. I’d never forgive myself if something happened to you.”
“It seems we’re not the only species capable of generating love, after all,” Vital said as he leaned close to his wife and nuzzled her gently. “They’re absolutely adorable, aren’t they?”
“That they are.” Trixie nodded. “Still, I think it’s nearly time for us to get to the head table.”
“I suppose the obligatories are finished, and it would be a shame to spoil all the effort everyone’s put into the party.” He leaned in and whispered in her ear. “That, and I’m getting really tired of standing. How about you?”
She nodded as the two turned toward the head table.
Fifteen minutes later, they were served a spread including fresh venison from a deer Grif had made a point of hunting the previous day. There was also fresh salad, mashed potatoes, glazed carrots and fresh bread. Several different drinks had been obtained for the reception. Trixie had a goblet of a fine white wine with her meal, while Vital Spark kept himself to grape juice and water.
“You know, one of these days, remind me to introduce you to sparkling cider,” he murmured to his wife. “Trust me, you’ll love it.”
“Maybe.” Trixie nodded.
“And if I make you a whole double batch of peanut butter cookies?”
“I suppose it couldn’t hurt.” She smiled.
“So, are you ready for the entertainment? I hear we’re going to be regaled by a multitude of musical numbers from a variety of groups.”
“I’m looking forward to it.” She smiled.
“Ladies and gentleponies! Oh, and various foreign guests, welcome to tonight’s entertainment! Can I get a round of applause for the new married couple?” Spike’s exuberant voice carried over the PA system. The obligatory round of applause came and went, and Spike grinned as he tipped his top hat forward. “Our first round of entertainment for the evening comes from a group of four exceptionally talented, and beautiful or handsome, Ponies from Ponyville. Sorry to say, though, folks, two of them are already taken. With the smooth voices and perfect pitch, it’s my distinct pleasure to introduce, for their debut performance, The Pony Tones!”
The lights faded out as Spike jumped off the stage and the spotlights flashed up from the edges of the stage. A soft hum of strings began to play gently in a slowly rising crescendo, followed by the sound of three voices singing in harmonic unison.
A piano came in to play a series of chords behind the words as three mares in flowing gowns strode out from the side of the stage and walked up the stairs to take their places. Rarity’s gown was a navy satin. Torch Song stood on stage right in muted red, and a familiar filly with curly purple hair stood prominently between the two in purple trimmed with silver accents and matching silver flowers in her hair.
Then came the rich sound of a bow drawn on the string as Fiddlesticks emerged in an emerald-green dress. The mare had cleaned up her usually unkempt mane, and her fur practically glowed as she smiled mysteriously at the audience and danced her way onto the stage. The trio continued to sing intermittently, until they reached the chorus, where a dashing Big Mac and Toe-Tapper both strode forward in tight black shirts cut to show off their svelt figures as they joined behind the mares. Two more stallions soon joined them to add to the chorus as each coordinated their movements in accordance with the mares’ singing.
Tears stood in Vital Spark’s eyes as Fiddle Sticks jumped into her interlude, and he leaned against Trixie in silent joy. Much to his surprise, he felt a trickling against his own fur as he looked up at his wife. “This really is our home now, isn’t it?” he whispered to her.
“So it would seem.” Trixie nodded.
The room exploded in a round of applause and cheers as the performers bowed. Then Rarity grinned as she winked at her fellow performers and they swept their gowns off to reveal a green sweater vest with white collars rimmed in gold trim and a set of bowties with green and gold stripes. Big Mac stepped forward and broke into a series of vocables with his deep bass soon to be followed by his fellow singers. And in a rare event, he sang through whole verses of music without so much as an eeyup or nope in between.
The Apple clan soon followed up with a round of country hoedown that left most of the audience breathless on the dance floor. A magic show followed after, courtesy of Spike and four mischievous young fillies. Fortunately, there was no tree sap involved this time, though the fillies did manage to get sloshed with punch as they tried to shove the slug-like creature they’d pulled out back into the hat again.
“You know, I don’t know whether that was part of the act or a mistake caused by whatever Dinky may have done to that hat to make the trick possible,” Vital noted.
Trixie laughed softly. “It’s not as easy as everyone makes it out to be.”
“Did you want to maybe help them, oh great and powerful Trixie? Perhaps they’ll take you on as their assistant,” Vital said as he wiggled his brow mischievously.
His new wife smiled. “This isn’t my performance. That would be in bad taste.”
Ping performed the nonmagical variant of her kagura dance for the audience, accompanied by the koto, which played magically behind her. The Snipers had a shootout with various other competitors to prove who had the best eye, and, for one night only, Camo and Espionage both performed a series of startlingly realistic impressions to both dramatic and comedic effect. The Scouts tried a standup routine, but were quickly knocked out with their own bats and dragged off the stage by the Heavies.
One of the lorekeepers from the Thestral clans narrated a story of the night and its many knowledgeable watchers, the owls. The combat mages performed a display of various spells and enchantments to please the audience with mock battle. Even Big Guns got in on the fun by juggling barrels and performing feats of strength.
“Now that’s what I call quite the … gun show,” Vital Spark said with a smirk.
Trixie patted his head patronizingly. “Nice try.”
“You’d best get used to those. I’m not about to let them go, you know,” he said as he kissed her on the cheek.
At that moment, the light dimmed all around as a single spotlight illuminated a lone figure on the stage. Her fur coat was sleek and glossy, running in a series of ripples and waves that swirled like clouds of silt in water. Her radiant blue feathers slicked back over her head to produce a halo further emphasized by the hints of gold that shone under her long sleek beek. The mixture of clouded leopard and king fisher gazed on the audience with shimmering silver eyes complemented by the bangles on her arms and legs and an ornate gold tail band that had been carved with a series of intricate runes in an unidentifiable language. Behind her, snowflakes drifted down gently from some unforeseen cloud as music slowly began to filter onto the scene and her beak opened to the first notes.
“I really can’t stay!” rang out vibrantly over the room and its occupants, accompanied by the slow jazz. Vital Spark performed a spit take, nearly choking on his punch.
The hoots and whistles of approval were soon hushed by the velvety tones of a familiar songbird
“But baby it’s cold outside.” Blue Eyes slid into the light. The two sang the song to the cheers of the audience while they danced around the stage. The female pretended to push him away or attempt to walk out, even as the male continued to express the danger of the cold beyond and the need to stay.
In a dramatic twirl, Blue Eyes seized a cup of punch from the nearest table and proffered it to the lady. As she partook, she looked suspiciously at him, then smirked playfully and asked about the drink. The pair drew together the more the protests sounded, until they sang together on the cold weather outside. They divided once more with the similar arguments, while Blue Eyes spun her across the stage in a flurry of smooth steps that made it look as though they were dancing on air. As the final chorus rang out, Blue Eyes swept his companion off her paws and used his fedora to shield them as he planted a passionate kiss on her. They quickly surfaced, and he replaced the fedora again as the two bowed to the audience’s eruption of praise.
“Good evening, everybody! Did you miss me?” Blue Eyes asked the crowd, receiving another roar. “Guys and gals, let me introduce the Mrs.Blue Eyes, the prettiest gal out there. Say hello, doll.” He offered her the mic.
“Good evening, everypony, and welcome to this wonderful event. First off, I’d like to apologize on behalf of my husband for any past corny jokes. I’m told some of you are still swabbing out the kernels from your ears. Hopefully, that song was enough to do the trick,” she said teasingly as she pecked her husband on the cheek. “It’s a pleasure to be here in New Unity, a place of many battles, hardships, and triumphs. However, the greatest triumph any person can achieve is to find someone they love and cherish more deeply than themselves who returns the gesture in kind. Once more, could everyone please give a round of applause for the bride and groom, Vital and Trixie Spark!”
“Can you feel that, hun?” Blue Eyes asked his wife as the applause died away.
“Well now, that depends, darling. But judging by the tipsy Changelings I can see in the audience, I think I know where you’re going with this.” She smirked. “Hit it, Maestro!”
The orchestra picked up with the gentle caress of strings, a muted french horn, and the steady strokes of a piano as a familiar mare with a purple mane played in perfect time. Blue Eyes picked up his mic and closed his eyes, then he and his wife began to sing.
As the pair joined their voices in harmony, the lights along the stage began to pulse in a series of gentle colors that swept over the surface, while two spotlights tracked the pair. When they finished the verse about thieves and vagabonds, they took to the air and flew through the room, circling over the married couple as they crescendoed into the talk of a star-crossed voyager’s heart beating in time. They settled and each offered a rose to the couple, then took wing again, leaning against one another and using their outer wings to fly together. A sparkling dust trailed behind them to fill the air with the magic of shifting colors as they skated along and finally settled back onto the stage to close out with the final verse.
“It’s enough to make kings and vagabonds leave their very best.”
Blue Eyes let the music die before looking out over the crowd, grinning. “You all enjoy that?” he asked, letting another roar rise as he looked to his wife. “You know, I think they enjoyed that.”
She rolled her eyes. “He thinks. You see what I have to put up with?”
The crowd chuckled.
“What about you, hun? You got a song we can give them?”
“Oh, definitely.” She smirked. “You’d best listen closely, darling. This one’s as much for you as for them.” She winked to the conductor and the orchestra cued up with a gentle jazz. She began to scat for a measure or two before opening up with her stand-alone number. There wasn’t a dry eye in the audience by the time she finished, and more than one couple had cozied up together under the swaying dulcet tones of her voice guiding them down a slow river of jazz and love.
“Doll, that was beautiful.” Blue Eyes smiled, wiping away a tear.
“One does one’s best. I have to keep my eye on you every minute. It’s about time we got it the other way round,” she said with a smirk. “Honestly folks, I can’t even begin to tell you the number of times I had to drag this Gryphon’s sorry hide out of some club when we first started dating. You might even say our relationship was tempestuous.” She winked at Blue Eyes. “How about we show them a little reenactment, darling?”
“I say let's get some music!” Blue Eyes shouted.
The stage parted to create a barrier between the two of them and two backdrops portraying two apartments. A strange black device with a series of numbers in its center stood atop a table on both sides. Then Grif picked up the receiver and a bell rang with rapid repetition. After a few rings, Blue Eyes’ mate picked up the other line and spoke, “Hello.”
A guitar began to strum in the background as Blue Eyes began to sing. Then the songstress joined in with an angry rejoinder followed by the promises from Blue Eyes as she melted with a gentle smile. The backdrops lowered and the two approached to sing in a united chorus and looked lovingly into each other's eyes to sing the rejoinder of hello, then ending with a final trio of goodbyes from Blue Eyes and a single confused one from his wife, before she closed off with a sulky, “Goodbye,” followed by the loud boom of all the lights going out at once. The crowd cheered together, but when the lights turned on again, the pair was nowhere to be seen. All that remained was the singer’s trademark fedora falling from above into the crowd. Needless to say, there was more fervor over the fedora than the bride’s bouquet.
“My, my. They certainly are eager, aren’t they?” Shrial asked from her chair as Avalon and Gilda both looked on.
“Can you blame them? Blue Eyes is a handsome phantom with a voice that could melt any female’s heart,” Avalon noted. “And given the rare nature of his performances, of course he’s going to be a hit. Oh. Speaking of which, Grif, we got a few potential contracts the other day asking for us to shadow him and track him down for some record companies. Apparently, word has spread since his performance in Canterlot.”
“I’ll take a look.” Grif chuckled as he took a slice of cake. “The guy’s pretty elusive, though.”
“I’d say,” Pensword replied from the shadows. “He slipped by ten of my best warriors and two of yours that I hired tonight for that exact purpose.” Pensword shook his head. “This Blue Eyes infuriates me with how he comes and goes, and yet he is good for morale. I feel like the law facing off against Michael Knight, or The A-Team. They’re doing it sneaky, but the results are good.” He sighed. “Why’d I think of those two shows after so many years in Equestria?”
“Maybe it’s the Earth music?” Grif suggested.
Pensword chuckled as he moved to his table again. “Whatever you say. But you might want to find a way to fill your seats or they might try to connect dots that really don’t connect.”
“Gilda had morning sickness. We were helping her,” Grif stated matter-of-factly. Gilda nodded sheepishly over his shoulder.
Pensword stopped and looked back. “If you say so. I like being Commissioner Gordon,” he replied in Draconic.
“Whatever.” Grif chuckled as he continued to eat. “Wonder what's next on the roster.”
The steady ring of crystal reverberated through the air and all attention turned toward a familiar black stallion wearing a white collar and a navy suit coat with two tails that trailed along his back and reached down to his rump to part neatly over the tail.
“If I could have the microphone?” Rook requested. Spike was quick to oblige. Then Rook cleared his throat and began to speak in earnest. “As almost everypony here knows, I’m Black Rook. I’m a soldier by trade, which makes me straightforward and to the point. When I get a mission, I carry it out to the best of my ability. However, I have to admit that my training in the Rohirrim didn’t prepare me for a sudden promotion to Best Colt.”
A few warm chuckles rose up from the audience.
“I first met Vital Spark when he wound up on our doorstep shortly after an incident that occurred here in the castle. The events of that day are classified, but those who were there to witness it know of the day I speak. He was adopted into the Rohirrim by Grif, and we put the colt through his paces and then some. I admit I took some pleasure in pushing him beyond his usual limits and bossing him around. But I suppose fate or karma must have been on his side, because after I got injured in a later battle, he was given the authority to bully me back into bed rest.” He grinned. “And by Faust, he actually managed to do it. I was mad at him at the time, but those of you who know Vital Spark well know he’s not the type to assert himself much. I couldn’t help but feel proud of him, after I’d had the chance to cool off.
“Now it’s been nearly a year, and he’s become the personal apprentice to Clover The Clever, gained the friendship and ears of our leaders and fellow troops alike, and played an active role in defending our shared home together. Then, to top it all off, he went and snatched the heart of a mare who turned into one of the most powerful Unicorns of her generation, then went and one-upped herself by ascending to Alicornhood. Clearly, nice colts don’t always finish last.”
By this point, Vital Spark and Trixie both were blushing.
“Vital is one of those unique souls who always looks for the good in people, before he looks for the bad. He defends what he holds dear, and strives for peace whenever possible. And despite the threats, curses, and spells that have been hurled at him, he continues to smile for others and lend a listening ear. I can’t think of a nicer colt for this to happen to, and I’m sure his wife would have some words with me, if I tried.”
Once more, the laughter echoed.
“In all seriousness, though, I hope the two of them will have an incredible marriage. There will be arguments, there will be trials, and your faults will show more sharply between the two of you than to anyone else in the world, because from this day on, you two will be bound together as a family. Your mission is to treat each other well, to compromise where appropriate, to be humble enough to recognize when the other is in the right, and loving enough to be patient as you work past any problems that rise. You’re in this for the long haul, so do us proud.” He smirked. “And maybe get us a few foals to fawn over. Moon River is lonely, and we need some peers for her that might actually have a chance of reining her in.” He smirked as he raised his glass. “To Vital and Trixie Spark. May they both live long and happy lives together as they move forward as mare and colt.”
The toast was unanimous and the applause polite as the room toasted to the happiness of the couple. Rook returned to his seat as a magical aura latched onto the mic, and it levitated over to Vital Spark. The groom rose from his chair and gave his bride a smooch on the cheek, before he strode onto the stage and smiled at the crowd.
“I know it’s not normal for the groom to offer words at his own wedding, but I had to say a few things before the next portion of the evening’s proceedings take place. First of all, thank you. Friends, family, and distant relatives have travelled from near and far to participate in these events, one of whom thought he was performing a rescue.” Vital nodded to Merasmus. “And I am forever grateful to know that Trixie has someone who cared for her so deeply before we met. It’s been a long road to reach this point.” He glanced at Zecora. “For some of us, it’s been longer than most.
“We all carry our scars and our marks, but we continue to live, despite them. I like to think that it’s because of a certain spark, a certain magic that we all seem to share to a greater or lesser degree. Trixie and I were lucky to find a greater portion of that magic together, and I couldn’t be happier with the result.” He paused a moment. “Well, maybe I could. I might get happier later, for all I know, and then I’d be lying. I’d hate to do that to the people I care for so much.” His smile widened and he winked at the audience. “What I’m trying to say is that I love all of you, and I’m so grateful to have received love and respect from you in return.
“As that wonderful song that the Ponytones sang reminds us, we make our homeland where our hearts reside. For me, that homeland is here with my new wife. I will never forget where I came from, but I am confident that this is the right choice. I guess, in a way, you could say that I was called here. And that call has led me on an incredible adventure. Now it draws me into a new one with a mare I have come to cherish. It’s a little complex for me to put into words, so I think I’ll try to let music do the talking for me. It sure seems to work for everypony else.”
The room broke out into a titter of goodnatured chuckles, though more than half the guests were holding their collective breaths or chewing their lips as Vital Spark levitated his violin from backstage and a slow thrum of strings began to rumble from the floor and rise into the air. Not a single Pony in the orchestra had reached for their instruments. A few seconds later, Vital Spark raised his head and the bow began to trace along the violin’s strings, singing with a sweet lilt that carried through the building music, filling the room with a sense of trepidation.
The familiar beat of tribal drums echoed and thumped in time with the strings, after Vital played a final aching high note. Then the drums died off gently with a fading gong. Vital Spark lowered his instrument, took a deep breath, and began to sing.
When the first verse had finished, Vital Spark raised his violin again and played a light interlude, motioning to his wife with a smile and raising a hoof to becon her forward.
“Sometimes it is in desire,” she began uncertainty as she rose from her chair and strode forward, then gradually gained more confidence, “Or in the love we fear.”
Vital smiled and nodded his approval. “When the call is calling us, till the fear will disappear.” He extended a hoof to pull her onstage as the two joined their voices together in harmony, while the violin played on with the unseen orchestra and Ponies touched by the song’s message opened their mouths to add their voices to the chorus. When they finally reached the end of the song, Vital Spark pulled Trixie in, whirled her around, and kissed her full on the lips while he held her in his forehooves.
The room erupted in cheers and whistles as Vital released his bride, and the pair of them took their bows together.
“Thanks for sharing my first heartsong with me, Trixie,” he said into her ear. “You’re a part of my heart now, so it only seemed right.”
“Our heart,” she corrected. “Forever.”
Vital Spark yawned as he slowly came awake and nuzzled Trixie’s mane affectionately. “Mmm…. Good morning, beautiful,” he whispered.
“Good morning, handsome,” Trixie responded in a half yawn.
The shimmering blue cloth that draped the walls in Trixie’s room left the two feeling drowzy and content after a night of merriment, gifts, family contacts, and a very romantic interaction when they retreated to the aforementioned room in the first place.
“You know, that actually felt pretty good,” Vital said as he nuzzled Trixie again. “Though getting a wing to the face might’ve marred the moment a little,” he teased.
“We’ll have to work on it,” she laughed.
“Well, we’ll have plenty of time on the honeymoon. Grif’s insisting on escorting us.”
“I hope he’s right about this island of his,” Trixie said as she begrudgingly moved to get up.
“Considering it’s run by my people, I think it’s safe to say we’ll be well taken care of.”
“Then you should be able to keep me from making a fool of myself.” Trixie smiled as her horn lit and she sorted through her luggage, making last minute adjustments to her packing.
“I still have some mixed feelings about leaving Aria behind. I mean, I know she’s independent enough now, but she’s not even a full year old yet. Do you think she’ll mind my not being here for a while?”
“Well, wouldn’t it be worse to take her to such a hot environment?”
“That’s the funny part. Turns out a cryophoenix isn’t necessarily effected that way by any but the most extreme of hot temperatures, like at a volcano for instance. Most places, whether tropical or tundral, are free game.” He shrugged. “Still, this is supposed to be about time to ourselves. And I hear there are some amazing tourist attractions that have developed there.”
“You know I won’t hold it against you if you bring your pet, right?” Trixie asked.
“She’s not just a pet,” Vital objected. “She’s a familiar.” He sighed. “And I’m being an overprotective father figure before I’m even a father.” He chuckled and shook his head. “What are you going to do with me, Trixie?”
“If I told you that, it might ruin the honeymoon.” She winked before going back to packing.
“A fair point. Knowing Grif, he’s probably already gone and taken anything extra I might’ve thought of bringing onto the Gantrithor. Seriously, that guy accounts for every eventuality, including my tendency to forget to pack at least one item that’s important in the long run. Have you ever had that problem, dear?” he asked as he levitated a familiar cape and hat over to observe and reminisce.
“When you spend your days on the road, you tend to learn to be careful when packing.” Trixie shrugged.
“And thus the Great and Powerful Trixie proves her superiority yet again,” Vital teased as he pecked her on the cheek. “I’d just find it hilarious if they turned out to be like a certain stereotypical movie I saw when I was younger” He broke off with a mischievous smirk. “So, Trixie, have you ever tried swimming before?”
“It was a common pastime back in Neigh Orleans.” Trixie nodded.
“Good. That means we get to have some fun. I wonder if this world has dolphins and sea turtles.” He smirked. “Oh, the stories I could tell you about sea turtles.”
“Why wouldn’t we have dolphins and sea turtles?” Trixie asked. “That's like saying ‘I wonder if your world has bunyips.’”
“Uh, bun-what now?”
“A bunyip?” Trixie looked back at him, confused.
“Would you believe I’ve never heard of it in my life?” He chuckled as he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.
“Well, hopefully we’ll meet one out there, then. I think you’ll like the experience.”
“If they’re friendly, I’m guessing so. Of course, with you around, I’m pretty sure we’ll both be safe, ironic though that is for me to say, of all people.” He chuckled. “I always thought it was the stallion that made things safer for the mare.”
“With the gender ratio being what it is, why would you expect that?” Trixie asked.
Vital paused for a moment. “You know, with all the times I’ve seen stallions standing up for their mares, I just realized that most of the time it’s the mares who actually do the more important tasks. … I suddenly feel vastly humiliated. In the good sense of the word, mind you, but still.”
“Well, mares generally try to keep the stallion safe for obvious reasons.” Trixie chuckled.
“We’re a rare commodity?” Vital asked as he arched his brows humorously.
“You never wondered why the Rohirrim has so many mares?” Trixie asked.
“Not really. Females serving in the military was a normal thing back home. If you were qualified, you were accepted, plain and simple.”
“That makes sense.” Trixie nodded. “You have everything?”
“I think so. I do have the most important thing right here in front of me, after all.” He winked at her.
“Good you know your priorities,” she teased as she picked up her bags.
“I already got my books and other odds and ends transferred the other night. Pensword insisted. I think I see why now, though I plan to scan for any traps, just in case. He is part Pegasus, after all.”
The Unicorn smiled as he nuzzled his mare and held open the door for her. “Madam, your coach awaits.”
“Then let us go.” She smiled as she left the room.
“Comme tu veux, mon amour.”
The Canterlot Herald photographer just stared as she watched the training. “That … can’t be safe. That is foal endangerment,” she sputtered as the former commander ran past with his old unit.
The members each carried heavy rucksacks on their backs. A familiar blue filly giggled atop one of these rucksacks and cheered her father on as she waved her toy crossbow to fire at various passers by that got too close to her father. Three more young voices cheered the group on from the ramparts as they flapped their bat wings.
“I know Thestrals are militaristic, but isn’t this a little much?” At her side another mare was busy jotting down notes in a notepad as she whipped her head up and down to ensure she took in every detail.
“Lady, if you think this is much, then you know nothing about what goes on here,” one Thestral responded.
The photographer looked aghast as she jostled her coiffed mane and turned to look at the Thestral. “This is nothing? But she’s a foal, and she’s allowed to play with such dangerous toys!”
The journalist looked up and rolled her eyes as her horn glowed to levitate the pad and pen. “Quick Shot, I warned you to keep your muzzle shut. Do you realize the hoops we had to get through to cover anything here? Do not jeopardize this for me.”
Quick Shot grimaced, but kept taking photos. “And allow this recklessness to continue? Where is the schooling?”
“Ponyville school was unprepared for the sudden influx of students from various cultures and … hartier species,” the Thestral informed her. “Students are being homeschooled or schooled in small classes until a new facility can be built. Anyway, Ma’am, that one is too young to be in the school system anyway.”
“Too young? She looks old enough to me.” Quick Shot shot back. “And even then, how could the parent let her ride along like that? What if she falls? Surely the Commander doesn’t want her parents to come down on him? He’s already on thin ice in Canterlot with trying to skirt the mandatory age retirement.”
“Shut up, Quick Shot,” the journalist rebuked.
“Don’t tell me you don’t back Sharp Tack’s article back home, Type Set.”
“I take in the facts before I make my opinion, Quick Shot. Which is why I was sent here in the first place. Remember, you’re here only because Focus Shot got food poisoning.”
The Thestral cleared her throat. “Ma’am, that’s the Commander's daughter. And even if she falls, she’ll get right back up, laugh it off, and try again. Our foals are made of stronger stuff then you’re giving them credit for. They’re not made of glass, and we’re not throwing them off clouds to get them to fly either.”
“Oh, my mother got that practice banned years ago. Even though all the Pegasi that she targeted claimed they didn’t do it. I’m guessing your practices are something more along the lines of throwing them out caves off a cliffside.”
Type Set groaned and rolled her eyes as she started to pack up her equipment.
“Ma’am, let me be blunt. I don’t appreciate your tribalism. Please rein it in or we will be forced to escort you off of Lord Hammer Strike’s land. He has laws against tribalism here.”
Quick Shot seemed surprised. “I’m only looking out for the safety of the foals,” she said hautilly, then turned to the journalist. “Come on. You’re going to write that in, right?”
Type Set glared at Quick Shot. “I’m here to get the story on how the Military training is progressing and what it’s doing for those in the course, Quick Shot. Nothing. Else.”
“To be fair, Ma’am, we thought we’d take the opportunity to showcase not only the strict military training that goes on in New Unity, but also the cultural differences that are slowly being mixed together. What you see here is primarily traditional, but we’ve added exercises and ideas from our neighbors. The physical exercises are borrowed from the regimen of former Captain Armor himself.”
“Oh…” Quick Shot replied, not noticing Type Step slowly inching away. “Happy to hear you’re taking the best teacher’s lessons.”
The thestral looked at her for a moment before she started laughing, hard, ridiculously hard. Several other troops started laughing, then more. Crystal ponies took up the sound and the laughter became a chorus, then a rumble, then a roar that rippled out through the air as each heard what the ignorant photographer had said.
What kept it going was her confused, befuddled, but happy grin.
Meanwhile Type Set breathed a sigh of relief as she pulled out her notepad and quill once more. She hid her smirk behind her notebook.
It was at that moment that Quick Shot found herself looking crosseyed at the powdered colored suction cup that had attached itself to her nose. “She … she shot me!” She screamed, then gaped at the Pegasus as he trotted over with the final release from the run. “You let your daughter shoot me? She could’ve hit my eye! I could have gone blind!”
The Commander flicked an ear. “I think she wants to prove how good of a shot she is. Also, it’s a toy. The worst it could have done is irritate your eye, not blind it” He moved a wing to pull out a blade, while still Trotting circles around the Mare. “This is a weapon. Its name is Lexington, and currently, my oldest is being trained on how to handle it and other tools like it.” He chuckled, “And that isn’t counting the Thestral training.”
Quick Shot blinked as she stared at the blade in question.
Meanwhile, Type Set showed her notepad to another Thestral, who giggled at what had been written. The Commander just smiled sweetly. He could guess what the journalist had just written. “Ma’am, we are in the middle of the Everfree Forest. And while we Thestrals are, indeed, hunters, this is more for self-preservation. We are surrounded by a list of magical creatures, constructs, and even artifacts that could harm us. Even paring that down to just the creatures, It’d be faster to read you the list of things that couldn’t.”
Quick Shot snorted. “As if.” She rolled her eyes. “Fine, what is the list of animals that won’t harm you?”
“Soma the chickens,” Moon River spoke rather seriously in a Roostralian accent.
“She’s joking?” Quick Shot muttered.
“Nope,” the same Thestral from before replied. “It’s so short that even the foals can memorize it. Most of the creatures in the Everfree are designed to capture or kill.”
Quick Shot took a series of gasping breaths as she struggled to get herself under control. “I walked through a … a death forest?”
“A death forest that knows not to mess with Hammer Strike trails. You’re safe, so long as you don’t step off the roads we’ve constructed,” Fox Feather said as she glided onto the scene, even as Quick Shot followed a guard with a new photographer provided courtesy of Hammer Strike’s own troops.
Quick Shot tilted her head and her eye began to twitch.
Commander Pensword smirked and shook his head, prompting Moon River to jump and flutter off his back. He leaned down and nuzzled her neck in a fatherly manner. He whispered into her ear before she giggled and started to trot away.
“Where is she going?” Quick Shot asked.
“Oh, she’s going to see her godfather, who most likely is going to spoil her and tease her with some of his weapon training.”
Quick Shot’s body shook as her head blurred back and forth. “Where did she go?” she yelped.
“Oh, she does that. She’ll pop up again when she wants to,” Pensword responded casually.
“When she … don’t you keep a firm grip on her?”
“Oh, I do. So does her mother. And so do the chiefs. Even the High Chieftess. She still does what she wants when she can get away with it. That’s how all foals her age are.”
“Wha—?” Quick Shot practically squeaked. Her pupils had shrunk down to the tiniest pinpoints, a clear sign of the mental strain her mind was facing as the Ponies systematically destroyed her preconceptions one by one.
“You should visit the Gryphons,” Fox Feather chuckled. “You’ll have a field day.”
“I ... I…. “ Quick Shot stuttered, then finally groaned. “I think I need a drink.”
Hammer Strike hummed to himself as he stared at a blank canvas. While he could think of things to draw, it was leaning mostly toward schematics, blueprints, designs, those sorts of things; nothing that was truly a work of passion or freely made. His mind wandered to and fro as he pondered different topics and grasped for potential subjects or past experiences in an attempt to garner some form of inspiration.
Countless canvases laid around him, each depicting objects, landscapes, Ponies, Gryphons, etc. All had been painted carefully in a multitude of styles. Each one shifted the tone of the image as he cycled through his potential styles of art, while the less favorable ones were, as he would put it, dealt with. He reached to the canvas and took it off the easel in exchange for a wider landscape size.
“Perhaps something recent,” he murmured as he spread the paints over the palette and prepared his colors. “Something for the newlyweds when they return.” He smiled softly as he took hold of his brush.
He began by preparing the background, a solid layer of white to work itself into the farthest back of the image. He used his mind’s eye to break the canvas up into two planes. One side would be dedicated to Trixie, the other to Vital. Left and right, the two would face each other as their own colors pooled into the center. For Trixie’s side, a midnight-blue backdrop would appear, stars glittering about in a similar fashion to her cape and hat to bleed white light that blended with dark spots gathering around the edges to mingle and fade into a serene middleground.
Vital’s side would shine bright as day, as a layer of soft blue caressed the white edges, creating a layer of frost and ice to form a frame of sorts. Flecks of gold would scatter about the backdrop from the main bust as they faded into obscurity. The central plane that formed the divider would mix the two sides in a gentle white and blue that whirled with the darker tones from the other to create a harmonious balance.
Each Pony’s portrait would sit across from the other, staring back with a faint smile of affection. Their eyes gleamed with faint colors from the opposite side to simulate the mirror-like effects of those luminous orbs.
Hammer Strike was lost in his own world as he mixed colors, shifting their hues to give each side attention with broad and narrow strokes to grant that sense of realism brought about by multiple layers and textures. Sometimes he would shift suddenly and begin altering something on the other side to match the current. Back and forth, he would sway, like a pendulum as he worked to maintain the balance of the two Ponies’ development.
“Enjoying yourself?” a voice broke through the quiet quite suddenly as Clover appeared in the room.
Hammer Strike sighed as he finally took notice of someone else. “To a point, yes. It’s been interesting, to say the least.”
“You certainly have a talent for art,” Clover noted as she appraised his work.
“I appreciate that,” he replied as he turned to face the mare. “It’s been years since I just spent the time to paint, or draw, anything. I can barely remember I used to pass time by putting random things on pieces of lumber when my shop was empty.”
“It’s always good to have an outlet that’s not creating weapons of war, or improvements for existing weapons,” Clover noted. “Everyone needs some way to get out of their own head.”
“I did other things, too,” Hammer Strike defended. “Though it was mostly thaumic training or translations,” he muttered. “Ex Divinia Etiam. I really did need a hobby.”
Clover laughed. “Acceptance is the first step.”
“I thought that was the last step?”
“I dunno. You honestly think I’ve ever admitted I have a problem?”
“Probably once, and decided you didn’t like it,” Hammer replied with a faint smirk.
“Only to one person.” She chuckled. “You know, it’s okay to admit weakness every once in a while. Even the great lord Hammer Strike’s not infallible.”
“Of course. I’m just very stubborn,” he replied simply. “I’ve played up the legend to this point,” he finished with a shrug.
“Even legends need downtime.”
“Certainly. Oh, but what brings you here today?”
‘I thought I would see how you were holding up, seeing as both my personal students are away and I have some spare time.”
“Quite fair.” He nodded. “So far, I appear to not be falling apart physically or mentally, so I would say I’m holding up well at the surface level, at the least.” He chuckled faintly to himself.
“Glad to see that. Maybe you should take a few days off? Go visit your wife in Ponyville?”
“If I didn’t know you well enough, I’d guess you were attempting to get rid of me,” Hammer Strike replied. “I do have the free time for it, especially since we brought in Oracle and Silent Collector. With them managing my paperwork, it’s been drastically easier to clear it out.”
“I think a holiday could do you well.”
“I would agree, but most of my holidays out from work tend to be either involuntary and lengthy or bloody. One or the other.” He paused and furrowed his brow. “You know what? Yeah, it might be a good idea. I haven’t been able to just stay in Ponyville with Rarity or have her stay here, due to work on both ends.”
“Enjoy yourself,” Clover encouraged.
“I’ll head out tomorrow, earlier in the day. For now, I should probably clean up,” he noted as he looked to the assortment of canvases and his primary painting of the moment. “Though I now need to figure out a spot to put paintings….”
Grif landed on the ground outside his home casually after placing the Gantrithor in its usual parking orbit at the airship dock. He gave a growl and leonine stretch before opening the door. “Girls? I’m back!” he called out.
Two wet balls of fur immediately pummeled their father with a heavy smack that sent water flying over the floor and Grif’s feathers.
“Girls!” Shrial glared angrily at her progeny. “You know the rules. First towel down, then race through the house.” She sighed and shook her head. “And just look at what you did to your father’s armor.”
“It’s had worse.” Grif chuckled as he picked up the soaking twins and gave them both a hug. Then he summoned up warm air currents around them to dry the three of them off. The twins giggled as the wind tickled their fur and feathers.
“And here I was, hoping to have a nice relaxed home ready for you when you got back.”
“You really should know better by now,” Avalon noted as she descended followed by a lanky young cub with curious blue eyes and black speckles over his white feathers.
“Who’s not relaxed?” Grif smiled. “Everything's beautiful.” He walked up to Shrial and kissed her gently. “I appreciate the effort.”
“Are you going to say hello to your son, or do I have to sic him on you?” Avalon teased as the two approached.
Grif smiled as he turned to Tazeer. Stalking up to him playfully, he let out a growl.
Tazeer blinked, then cocked his head in confusion as he looked at his father. The question was clearly evident in his gaze, despite his lack of speech.
“Still nothing.” Grif sighed as he picked the cub up. “You have to be the most silent cub I have ever heard of,” he said teasingly as he tickled his son’s belly.
Tazeer giggled as he squirmed in his father’s grip. His two sisters looked on in delight as Grif continued to tease the cub.
“Well, look who’s finally back. Did you bring us anything?” Gilda asked with a playful smirk.
“You mean aside from my good looks?” Grif winked as he gestured to his scarred visage.
“Are you asking me to add a few more?” She tensed her talons as her tail flicked playfully behind her.
“Play nice, you two. The children are present,” Avalon chided.
“Besides, I thought tonight was Avalon’s night,” he purred.
“For sparring or something else?” she teased as she brushed her talon under his beak.
“Who says we can’t do both?” He grinned back at her. “That’s usually how I get Shrial riled up for it.”
“And I get to test my magic on you. You’re one of the only ones I can, you know. It’s so boring only studying the theory sometimes.”
“Have you thought about asking some of the Unicorns?” Grif asked.
“Considered it, but these are types of magic unique to Gryphonkind. I’d rather keep it that way for now. I plan to eventually give it to Unicorns to study as well, but I’d rather we start our school up first.”
“Fair enough. Have you begun screening for any among the Bladefeathers with the gift?” Grif asked.
“We’ve been making some inquiries. The Black Tips have been more than helpful in the background checks, but I’ll require a test of their character before I’m willing to take any in for training. Pride and arrogance were what led to the organization’s corruption in the first place. I’m not about to allow the same mistakes in my lifetime.”
“That's why I know you’ll make it something to be proud of.” Grif smiled and kissed her.
“That, and if I don’t, then I’ll be in a great deal of trouble with the Winds and their children,” Avalon returned as she kissed him back.
“I’d never let them touch you. No matter what happens, you all are where I draw the line.”
“And he thought he’d make a bad husband,” Shrial teased.
“How about we talk about this over dinner? I made my old family recipe for scones.”
“Should I be worried?” Grif asked.
Gilda shrugged. “How should I know? They sold well enough in Griffinstone.”
Grif looked to Avalon. “Alors oui je devrais être inquiet,” he commented.
“Uh … what?” Gilda asked as she cocked her head.
Grif chuckled. “Nothing, my love. Just a joke from the lower kingdoms.”
Vital Spark groaned and stretched as he stepped onto the Ganthrithor’s main deck. The sun and the sea had done wonders for his coat and overall complexion. He and Trixie practically glowed as she strode out to join him.
“Gotta say, I’m gonna miss that massage therapist. That’s the most relaxed I’ve felt in years,” the stallion said wistfully. “Well, barring certain activities that shall not be named in public,” he said with a smirk as he butted his head playfully against Trixie’s shoulder.
“Grif was right about that island.” Trixie nuzzled him back. “It was practically paradise.”
“That’s anywhere with you, dear,” Vital flirted shamelessly as he kissed his bride.
She grinned. “After the week that we just had, you still think you need to charm me?”
“Nah. Just keeping in practice for the thousands of weeks to come.”
“I feel we should talk about foals soon,” Trixie noted.
“Because that time of the year is approaching?” Vital guessed as he motioned to the gangplank with a gentlepony’s wave.
She nodded. “Best we know where we stand before we start,” she said as she crossed the gangplank.
“Well, I was thinking of waiting till we were better established. A year or two, just to get properly settled and set aside some savings. What were you thinking?”
“I wouldn’t mind the prospect of having a foal soon off, but I can see the wisdom in waiting.”
“We’ll be able to have plenty eventually. After all, you and I are going to have a long time to spend together.” He nuzzled her gently. “And I intend to make the most of every moment.”
“Well now, you two love birds, maybe you should save this till you’re in your room?” Grif spoke up as he approached them.
“I don’t know, Grif. You and the ladies seem to do the same thing an awful lot. Then again, you’re a lot more subtle than I am,” Vital teased. “So, just for the sake of bracing, how close are we to Tuesday again?”
“It’s sunday. You’ve got a day to prepare.” Grif chuckled.
“Hey, you wouldn’t find it so funny if you were always on the receiving end of some sort of problem each week. I swear, Garfield’s Mondays have become my Tuesdays. At least while we’re here in New Unity and Ponyville.”
“Tuesdays are generally chaotic for everybody,” Grif noted.
“True. But I can’t help but feel like I’m being targeted sometimes. Take the explosion in the lab last month. A fly decided to settle into my potion, despite the wards I set up specifically to avoid getting any foreign particulates involved. My mane was green for a week, and Clover nearly castrated me.”
“And I spent twenty six years re-growing up with no memory of who I was, fought in a war, betrayed a species, and then became a pretty big figure for said species. Life is strange. Buck up and get used to it,” Grif answered.
“That happened on a Tuesday? Dang. Also, are you telling me to make mistakes, Miss Frizzle?”
“You’ll figure it out. Now, I believe you two have a teacher who’s got a few weeks’ worth of catch-up work ready.”
“Don’t you mean a week’s worth?” Vital asked.
Grif laughed for a few seconds, before deadpanning. “No.”
“Well, we’re screwed.” Vital sighed. “You ready to face the executioner, darling?” he asked in his best imitation of a posh accent.
Trixie laughed. “It’s not that bad. I don’t see why you’re scared. You’re obviously her favorite.”
“I don’t know about that one. But I do try to live up to what’s expected of me.” Vital shrugged. “Anyway, I guess it’s time to get back to the regular grind of things. Besides, I need to check up and see how Pensword is doing with his homework, too. And we need to see about getting a bigger room for the two of us,” he added.
“Is there something wrong with my room?” Tixie asked.
“That depends on if it’ll have enough room for the both of us. Then again, we could always see about using that spatial compression spell Clover cast, if we really need the room.”
“Now then, lets see what she has for us.” Trixie smiled as she levitated her luggage and headed for the fortress.
Vital shook his head. “It’s going to be tough being the gentleman for her if she keeps carrying on like that.” He chuckled. “Well, guess I’ll just have to be creative. Wish me luck, Grif.” He waved to his friend as he followed after his wife.
The wind whipped tempestuously as sheets of rain pelted the sides of the castle. What had started out a sunny day quickly dissolved into the first of many a spring storm waiting to blow over the forest terrain. The castle was eerily quiet. For some reason, rain always had that kind of effect on creatures, no matter their species. Four hooves clopped morosely down the corridors. The mare drew her cougar cape around her for warmth and comfort as she strode through the halls, staring sightlessly at the many paintings and displays.
Much though she wanted to, she couldn’t sleep, but neither could she remain in the guest apartment Pensword had provided her. Worse yet, she knew she was being followed. Accepting Pensword’s offer had all but ensured the necessity of such a force, even if she couldn’t necessarily catch them in the act. That meant any attempts at speaking aloud to think through her problems would be completely impossible. She sighed and shook her head as she stared up at a particularly regal portrait of a very young Princess Luna. “What am I supposed to do?” she finally asked aloud.
Nopony responded.
Night Terror knew what her father would say only too well. Her mother was dead and long since gone. She couldn’t trust anypony in the fortress or the clans. That would lead to immediate banishment, and then where would she be? But who could she turn to for honest counsel? Who wouldn’t judge her and be able to speak impartially? And more importantly, who would she turn to in the future, when her service to her father ended? She couldn’t very well tell him how she felt about Pensword. She didn’t even know exactly how she felt in the first place! It wasn’t like falling in love was a common thing for a Thestral of her station back in Canterlot.
And yet, she always felt awkward around the stallion, and not from lack of effort. Now that he was actively seeking to essentially adopt her into his family, she didn’t know how to react. The colts were exuberant in their welcome, and the little one, Moon River, looked gravely before she offered a boop to the nose. The family was at least trying to accept her. She didn’t know how to feel about that. In a way, it felt more like the games of chess she would play with Pensword on occasion. Or … perhaps it was something more. Were they the pieces? Was that even a possibility?
She shook her head. Such musings were unhealthy and impractical. No. If she were truly to get proper advice, she would need to seek counsel from someone experienced in such things, one who wouldn’t be afraid to speak with her in the first place.
Nopony in the noble classes would so much as consider reading her missives. Her impure blood saw to that. And to write the princesses would be absolutely ludicrous. She would face far worse than banishment, were her activities to be made known to them. The elements were also out of the question, especially Applejack. That mare could smell a lie a mile away. In that regard, at least, Night Terror was grateful for the night schedule she’d been required to follow. Regardless of how many times she passed through the options, there was only one Pony arrogant enough to disregard the stigma of associating with her to be blatantly, even hurtfully, honest.
“I can’t believe I’m considering this,” she muttered as she trotted toward the nearest stairwell. She needed to get back to her room.
“Yes?” Fox Feather asked as she opened the door. Her ear cocked in confusion. She didn’t recall any appointments being made for that time of night.
“Hey, Fox Feather. Is Pensword in?” Vital Spark asked.
“Yes, but he’s a little busy at the moment. If you want, he left his week’s schedule open on his desk. You can take a look.” She fluffed her wings and smiled coyly.
“Vital raised a curious brow, but didn’t push. “All right. He’d best have some free time available soon, though. We have lessons that need to be performed.”
Fox Feather smiled. “Let me show you something.” She beckoned Vital toward the desk. “I think he’s been practicing your lessons for an hour in the morning and night for the last week while you were on your honeymoon.” She flicked her tail and smirked enticingly. “How was it, by the way?”
“Relaxing, enjoyable, and nonya,” Vital said casually as he peered over the book.
“Nonya?” She teased back and flicked her tail. What Vital read over the week had been jammed back with hours devoted to personal training, troop training and exercises, another Military council meeting, various leadership responsibilities, and a section titled Homework for Vital. When Vital turned back, he found his nose smacked with a packet. “Your homework from Pensword. He never did finish your Equestrian History lessons, so he wanted to give this to you.”
Vital hovered each of the books and documents over, then casually passed each one back to a nearby table. “Read that, read that, studied that, did that, already know that one, and Clover insisted I look over this one when I was prepping for siege training.” He looked pointedly at Fox Feather. “And for the record, nonya means nonya business,” he added with a wink. “I’ll be back for Pensword later. His homework is about to get a lot more involved.”
She giggled. “Oh, so the little colt is a stallion now, is he? I look forward to when you get your second wife.” She swished her tail teasingly. “You’ll need the books for your essay. You may have read it under Clover, but you need to pass Pensword’s expectations. Now he could be teasing you or wanting to test your knowledge.” She closed the schedule book to show a small booklet “That’s a gift for you.” She winked at him as she walked around a screen. “He doesn’t want you forgetting another past of yours.”
“Fox Feather, a warning for the future. I know you like to tease, but you’re going to give the wrong idea eventually, if you’re not careful. I’d rather not be portrayed as a cuckolder, especially to a wife who can quite literally disintegrate me while I am still conscious and make me feel every moment of it. Do try to rein that part of yourself in. I know I’m quite the catch, but we’d rather not make Pensword jealous.” He winked.
Fox Feather shook her head with a sly grin. “And that is why I tease you. You never take it as anything but teasing. Besides, as you pointed out, I have Pensword. He was my catch. And you were Trixie’s catch. But you two can be hopelessly clueless at times with flirting. You’re far too direct. I’m merely trying to teach you a better way.”
“We prefer being open with our flirtation,” Vital said with a shrug. “It suits us just fine. In case you haven’t noticed, subtlety and I are like oil and water on most occasions.”
Fox Feather shrugged with her wings. “A mare can try. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to join our little herd of snugglers to sleep for a while. If you still need to talk, Pensword will find you when he wakes up.” She paused mid-turn. “Oh, yes, Pensword had a picture made for you and Grif. It’s on the side table on the way out. If you don’t mind, could you deliver Grif’s copy while you’re at it?” She didn’t leave Vital Spark enough time to respond as she sauntered out of the room.
“That conniving little….” Vital shook his head and smiled ruefully. “I may just have to charge her next time. It’d serve her right.” He chuckled. “All right, Grif, let’s see what Pensword’s got for us to work with.”
The picture showed a bedroom with a massive bed large enough to fit ten Ponies. The apartment had been adorned with tiny glowing rocks in the ceiling that sparkled like stars as a moonstone glowed gently on the nightstand next to the bed. Pensword slept peacefully under the covers. His armor hung on a rack that stood in the far right corner. Moon River cuddled up next to him under his left wing. Day Moon sandwiched her against her father's torso, while Inigo and Cristo curled up next to Lunar Fang. The Pegasus’ feathers blended with the Thestrals’ leathery wings to form a living blanket over the colts. One could easily see the distension of the mare’s belly as she nuzzled one of the foals’ manes in her sleep. Fizzpot stood in the far left corner of the room, barely visible in the shadows where he hid.
“And of course, Fox Feather took this.” Vital rolled his eyes. “One of these days, we’ll have to complete the picture. Perhaps with a little payback for the tips she offered those cadets.”
Grif eyed the hallway around him carefully. When he designed the compound, he’d been sure to leave as much open to the clan’s knowledge as possible, but there was one room, one room he’d worked carefully into the plans and sworn the few people that worked on it into secrecy. After assuring he was alone, he reached over to a bust against the wall and pushed the beak inward before tipping a nearby painting on its side. Art being such a large part of Gryphon culture was common in the public area, and thus no one would expect the significance of these two pieces being within arm’s reach.
There was a barely audible click as a section of the frame pushed forward just enough to reveal a small ledge separating it from the rest of the wall. Carefully tracing the lip with a talon, he found the clasp on the inside and flicked it, allowing him to slide the wall section away enough for him to slip inside. The section resealed itself behind him as the clasp magically locked back into place and the portrait and bust reset themselves. Behind the section of wall was a small room roughly half the size of his office. The walls were lined with shelving, and the center held several individually locked display cases.
Grif took a minute to take stock. There wasn’t much, admittedly, but everything here had to be secured for their own reasons. Along the walls were several of the darker materials he’d secured from Grask’s home, things that held either at one time or currently, abilities he didn’t want getting out. On one shelf, inside a thick metal lock box lined with runes for several heavy duty enchantments, lay a dozen thaumic grenades Hammer Strike had trusted him with incase of emergency. Beside it lay several boxes of all the ammunition Grif possessed for his revolver and his flintlock. The two guns hung holstered on pegs above said ammunition.
Once he was sure everything was accounted for, he made his way to one of the central display cases and opened it to reveal an all too familiar golden bracer complete with an emerald in the center. Grif shed the bracer he currently wore on his left wrist and placed it in the case before taking the gold one and lashing it on tightly. He moved his arm around to make sure it didn’t interfere with his mobility, making minor adjustments where needed until he was satisfied.
Closing the case and securing it, he took a few steps away and, with some trepidation, turned the stone.
He nearly tumbled forward as his body shifted to that of an upright human. When he stood up, he nearly banged his head on the ceiling. He looked himself over carefully, more than a little shocked at the changes to his human form after having been a Gryphon for so long. His skin was darker, a deep tan. His hands were larger than he’d remembered, and his human nails had developed a pointed edge. Dark bangs tipped with a deep green hung in front of his eyes.
Disconcerted by his changes, he attempted to take a few laps around the room and found his gait unfamiliar and uncomfortable. He supposed it made sense. He hadn’t believed he’d be returning to this form in this fashion or use the bracer again. Yet with the way things were looking, they would need to return to Earth to find what Daring needed.
He drew a knife and thanked the Winds for small mercies found. He still could use it with as much skill as before, even if it took time to adjust to the meaty human fingers. He took several more laps around the room, until he felt comfortable walking again, then flipped the gem. He turned for the exit with the brace still lashed to his arm. Hopefully, after this trip, he could return it to its case permanently.
Hammer Strike hummed to himself as he sorted through work orders. The roads were laid out and prepared, so it was time for the crew to work on the larger structures.
“Be careful with the foundations on that one.” A hoof tapped a work order. “Back corner begins to sink in a decade or so. Really nasty clean-up”
“Had plans to bring up structural integrity.” Hammer Strike looked up. “Doctor, what brings you to these parts?” He peered at the ground, where a metal basket filled with six glass bottles full of a white liquid waited. “On a milk run?”
“Yes, but that’s beside the point. Someone's been messing with time,” Time Turner noted as he looked at Hammer Strike. “I was in the neighborhood and thought I’d ask if you knew anything about it.”
“Unless you mean my trip with the others to Zebrica, then no, I do not.” He shook his head. “Which was, mind you, some time ago.”
“Ah, so that was you. I was wondering about that, seeing as I’ve never been to Zebrica during the Minotaur Invasion,” he noted. “So … I assume you wouldn’t resort to something as nasty as a vortex manipulator. How’d you do it?”
“Oh no, I don’t ever plan on touching one of those again.” Hammer Strike shook his head. “To put it simply, I willed it to be. To actually explain it, I somewhat created a tether between the current point in time and a segment in the past by using objects that exist in both times and matching our own respective timelines to what appeared to be our arrival.”
“You willed time travel to happen and it happened?” The Doctor gaped. “My species spent a million years developing machines to do that, and you just willed it?”
“Remember the whole thaumaturgy deal?”
“Yes, I remember. I also remember my teachers telling me to stay away from it at all costs,” the Doctor stated. “All power comes with a price.”
“Can you at least promise me you won’t mess around with time at the drop of a hat? I have enough trouble with people I can outthink messing with time.”
“Don’t you have faith in me, Doc?” Hammer Strike questioned as he sat back in his chair. “It’s not like I actively worked against Time. He was on the side watching, even,” he muttered the last part.
“You’ve met … Time?” the Doctor asked exasperatedly, then plopped down onto his rear as his mind processed the sheer weight of that statement.
“Technically, yes. He’s an interesting being, to say the least,” Hammer Strike replied and shrugged again.
“Starting to think I'm out of my league. Do you know how weird it is to say that?”
“Hey, you’re the one who accepted the rules to not go this far.”
“Well, at least I know where the time manipulation came from. I won’t have to worry about some nitwit with a vortex manipulator causing trouble.”
“Definitely.” He nodded. “Damned thing just seemed to be so unstable. It really messed with my field.”
“Nasty piece of work. The electric scooter of time travel.” The Doctor grimaced.
“Though I’m curious as to how you shrink a time-based device so small. The amount of shortcuts you’d have to take would be ridiculous.”
“The amount of safety protocols you need to ignore alone would stagger you.”
“I’d believe it,” he replied with a faint chuckle. “There aren’t many of them at least, right?”
“That I know of? A few dozen. But you always have people trying to make their own version of it. Ponies in the future are particularly bad for it.”
“I’d suspect so. The prospect of time travel always tends to be a big topic.” He hummed to himself. “I could see the reason behind it, but after going through it, mostly for the past though, it feels like a sort of normal thing.”
“Well, if that's that, I should leave. I’ll need to get the milk home before it goes bad.” Time Turner rose back to his hooves and picked up his cargo.
“Said the stallion that deals in time. Until next time Doctor.”
“You say that, but the wife always knows.” The doctor chuckled as he took his leave.
Pensword smiled as he and Moon River sat before the partially skinned carcass of a rabbit. The young mare had already been shown how to make snares, so this was the next natural step in her training. Then he would show her how to cook the meat. He smiled as she watched intently. If she was anything like he had been in youth, he looked forward to taking her on her first true hunt. His weapons sat out in the setting sun to dry after he’d finished cleaning them. Everything from Concord, Lexington, the modified Gryphon bow (which was going to need another adjustment in the next few days), and even the flintlock. It had been some time since he tried using the weapon, and Hammer Strike would have chewed him out if he didn’t at least care maintain the device properly.
He sighed as his ear twitched. “I can hear you, Grif. Either you’re in the tree branches or in the bush. Did you bring your daughters to watch how to clean a rabbit Thestral style or are the giggles something else?”
“Those giggles weren’t my doing,” Grif noted as he landed nearby, his own bow was collapsed and strapped to his back.
Pensword raised a brow. “And Dakota isn’t nearby. I think he’s got a soft spot for Gryphon cubs.” He shook his head and smiled. “So, you having a good day?” he asked while Moon River hugged her uncle happily.
“It’s been okay. I’ve been mapping out the hunting grounds. We need to start separating our hunting parties, or else we won’t be able to sustain both Gryphons and Thestrals in the area,” Grif said as he returned the hug.
“Ah. The Wolf Clan was thinking along the same lines. They were mapping last night and most of today. If you have the maps with you, I could take a look to verify before you take them to the Wolf Clan.”
“If you’ll have them drop off copies of their own in return,” Grif countered.
“Of course. Also, just a heads up. All my Gryphon daughters are with cubs. It seems they acted fast after the wedding.”
“That's to be expected.” Grif laughed as he passed the Pegasus several pieces of parchment.
“Why so fast?” Pensword asked as he put the maps in his saddlebags. Then he returned his attention to the kill. “And while I’m at it, would you like a small rabbit scarf, Moon River?”
“Our race may have long lives, but the warrior’s path leads to a lot of death. The sooner the cubs come, the more chances for the bloodlines to carry on.” Grif shrugged. “We have laws regarding when a male or female can seek out a mate, simply to keep them from starting families too early.”
“Ah.” Pensword nodded. “Anything I should know to help raise the cubs? I know Thestral customs by heart, but Gryphon customs are always a little confusing to me.”
“For starters, this can't happen,” Grif explained, signaling to Pensword’s hunting with Moon River. “The first hunt needs to be done alone. It’s an important rite. Also, never stop them from wrestling or fighting, and start to train them early.”
Pensword nickered in surprise, then sputtered. “No first hunt alone? That’ll be hard to not do. Thestrals train their children to prepare them for their first solo hunt, like I did with Dakota.”
“To survive, one must realize how to feed oneself. Hunting is instinct as much as it is skill, and the predator must always be aware that they could end up the prey,” Grif explained.
“I guess we’ll have to sit down and craft a hybrid training, instead. They will neither be pure Gryphon nor Pony. Logic dictates we should train them in the best of both societies.”
“That well come with time, and will ultimately be up to the parents to decide. For now, I need to get back to work.” Grif patted Moon River’s head. “Be good, okay?”
“Okay.” The filly giggled.
Pensword hid his smile as his eye glanced over Grif’s crest briefly, then back to his face, before turning to salt the meat.
“I’ll see you back at Unity,” Grif said. And with a pounce, he vanished into the branches.
Pensword chuckled as he followed the familiar glint of the sun’s rays catching a metallic-colored bow Moon River had tied to her godfather’s head.
Vital Spark rubbed at the bags that had developed under his eyes as he dropped the stack of papers filled with formulae and diagrams that was his make-up homework, or at least a portion of it, onto Clover’s table with a heavy whump. The reinforced oak hardly even vibrated under the sudden weight as the Pony peered over the edge to look his teacher in the eye.
“There it is, formulae and corresponding magical sigils and diagrams for the creation and implementation of various higher-tier magic spells, including transmutation, curses, blessings, and certain lesser summons.”
“Well, you got that done faster than I anticipated,” she said.
“You’re the one who told me to learn how to live without sleep.” Vital’s head drooped slightly and his whole body shuddered as he snapped back up to attention. “By the way, why aren’t there any records of this Momonga in the royal archives? His name is embedded in just about every spell formulae you’ve had me study in this set, sort of like a signature. You’d think this kind of genius would put him on a level with Star Swirl easily.”
“He was better, actually.” Clover shrugged. “His methods were just unsettling for most.”
“At the risk of being called simple, I’m going to ask, because I’m about ready to collapse here on the floor. What kind of unsettling, and/or how so?”
“He studied a lot of what is labeled as dark magic. Some of the light magic he created is heavily based on existing dark magic spells.”
“As in for a means to counter said dark magic or merely a means to create an equivalent with similar effects that light magic users can find more palatable?”
“A little of both.”
“And he was shunned for that? How else do you expect to innovate a means to counter such spells if you can’t study them in the first place?”
“Star Swirl basically controlled the thought of the time. He wouldn’t accept anything remotely dark magic related. He also was less than thrilled to be outdone by a mage who wasn’t even a Pony.” She rolled her eyes.
“Now that’s pretty rare. I thought Star Swirl would have wanted to study something that unique. There aren’t many other species capable of utilizing magics of that type,” Vital mused.
“Oh, he loved studying other unique races’ magic, so long as they didn’t make him look bad.” Clover chuckled.
“I take it Momonga succeeded there?”
“In style. He found ways to do things Star Swirl said was impossible.”
“For some reason, I’m not all that hurt about the sudden cutting out of Star Swirl’s pride. His last message may have been nice to you, but it was a real jerk to me.”
“I can imagine.” She nodded. “He thought a lot of himself, not so much of others.”
“Ironic, given the foundational nature of magic here in Equestria.”
She shrugged. “Genius fails to realize not everyone’s like them. When others can’t understand them, they get annoyed.”
“And when they don’t want to understand others?”
“They never understand others.” Clover chuckled again.
“What about the rest of the pillars? Didn’t he understand them?”
“I wouldn’t know much about that,” Clover noted. “I was trapped in stone when that happened.”
“I wonder if they ever looked for a means to cure you while they were on their adventures. I should think they must have, unless you told them not to.”
“I doubt it. That being said, most of what I’ve read of the situation has all been written by Star Swirl or his hierophants. Seems like the pillars didn’t realize their history was being written down in Star Swirl’s favor.” She sneered. “Any of these pillars that aren't him are either considered non-existent or their life is mired in misinformation. Like always, he had to make himself the spotlight of the situation.”
“A need to take the lead as an automatic authority jumping to his own conclusions through deductive reasoning that he deems infallible, despite the fact there may be other equally logical deductions that could refute it?” Vital guessed.
“We spent a week straight arguing after the Hearth's Warming event about what happened. He’d have everyone believe the fire was a magical flare caused through long term exposure to unstable magical elements. Nothing more.”
“In other words, not the combined mana of six Ponies from each of the three original tribes with an effect similar to a wild Alicorn’s magic?”
“The idea of emotional attachments having greater magical meaning was preposterous.” She laughed.
“And yet we find it seems to now hold merit, at least where the Elements of Harmony are concerned. How curious.”
“Anyway, I have a few things to look into, and you probably could use some sleep,” Clover noted.
“That, and my wife will probably force me into bed, if I don’t go get some myself,” Vital agreed as his head drooped again. “Catch you later, Clover?”
Clover Nodded.“Have a good day, Vital Spark.”
“It’s day?”
A few hours later, Clover stood outside of Hammer Strike’s current studio with a large square object held carefully in her magic. It was wrapped in several layers of cloth, and she seemed to take more care with it than her usual parcels.
“You’re free to enter,” Hammer Strike called out from within.
Clover did so carefully. “Good day, Hammer Strike.”
“Ah, Clover. What brings you here this afternoon?”
“I was hoping you might be able to help me with something.” She set her burden down on the table.
“What’s giving you trouble?” Hammer Strike questioned as he turned his attention fully on the mare.
“While I was in stone, a portrait of someone close to me degraded without me around to restore the spells on it. I can’t restore it with magic,” she explained as she unwrapped it to reveal an ancient canvas covered in an image so faded, one could barely make out the form of a Pony.
Hammer Strike hummed as he looked over the painting. After a minute, he attempted to look at it thaumically, and was able to make out the differences much easier. “I could possibly restore it,” he mused as he continued to stare at the more visible image. It depicted a young stallion. He couldn’t have been older than sixteen or seventeen. His coat was a deep royal blue with a lighter blue mane that contained silver highlights. He wore finely made platemail armor and seemed to be leaning on a polished zweihander. He smiled fondly at the painter.
“If I may ask….” He tilted his head as he continued to scan the painting. “Who is it of?”
“His name was Starlight Bulwark.” She smiled sadly. “This was finished a few months before he got a wanderlust and left home. I never saw him after that. He was my son.”
“I believe I can restore it,” he said, then frowned.
“I’d appreciate it. It’s all I really have left of him. I’ve been working on the genealogy scrolls to see if he ever had any family, but with what Discord did to records… It’s been slow going.”
“Understandable.” He finally looked up from the piece and let his eyes return to normal. “I’ll … I’ll get to work on it shortly.”
“That means a lot. Thank you.” She nodded. “He never had a head for magic, but he loved that sword. Kept it polished to the point where he had to keep the blade wrapped up outside to keep it from blinding others.”
Hammer Strike gave a faint smirk. “He must have been taught well in maintaining equipment.”
“He was.” She nodded and swallowed to clear her throat. “His teacher was very strict about keeping equipment maintained. I like to think that he made a name for himself with that sword, slaying monsters and protecting Ponies weaker than himself. But I was his mother, so I may be biased.”
“I’m sure he led a life and made a name for himself.” Hammer Strike smiled warmly. “With him being your son.”
“Thank you, Hammer Strike, for everything. I mean it.”
“It’s no problem. I should have it done by tomorrow.”
She nodded. “Very well. I’ll see you then. Have a good day, Hammer Strike.”
“You as well,” he replied.
Pensword stood in the White Tail Woods and stared down his new daughter-in-law. “Now, seeing as you called me gramps in such a disrespectful tone, I think it’s time that you saw just what a properly trained Thestral can do. And the best way for you to learn that is to experience it for yourself. Rainbow Miriam Dash, prepare to have your training expanded. And you’re doing this on your own time, just as I do my training on mine.”
“I can take whatever you throw at me easy.” Rainbow polished a hoof on her chest as she smirked. Pensword said he’d wanted confidence and boastfulness, and she definitely delivered.
Pensword smiled smugly as he walked to a dead tree, reached under his cloak and threw it aside with a dramatic flare to reveal a bandolier tied around his barrel with four holsters each holding a long shaft of oiled wood and a sharp head with a tail spike jutting back to assist in maintaining balance.
He yanked the first tomahawk from its resting place and peered at the tree for a few seconds, then released. The weapon buried itself at an angle and shuddered as he removed the second tomahawk from his belt. In a few minutes, all four had been embedded into the bark of a distant tree. Its four heads glinted in the light to create four points of a diamond. The heads weren’t equidistant, but the shape could still be discerned.
“I’m still somewhat rusty,” Pensword admitted, “but as you can see, I can manage. A well-trained Thestral would be capable of dual-wielding with both wings, making them an especially dangerous foe. The ability to perform a ranged attack while engaged in direct combat is a powerful skill, and the ability to throw silently, speedily, and accurately from the shadows even more so. My mother was a master of that technique, both with her hooves and her wings. The number of targets she could strike at once was breathtaking. She would have gone far in the guard, had she chosen to serve in that capacity, and had the laws of the time permitted it.”
He approached the tree and removed the hatchets, then embedded them, so the handles would create a proper diamond. “This is the pattern that every hunter is trained to be able to replicate. When one is able to manage this level of pinpoint accuracy at sufficient speed, one proves him or herself worthy to hunt for the clan, rather than just themselves of their family. Until then, there is no guarantee you will be sanctioned for any hunt, especially given the coordination we now must maintain between our clans and the Bladefeathers to preserve a sustainable game population.” He nodded to the shadows of the trees and a Thestral mare approached silently with a rolled bundle of tomahawks. She laid them at Rainbow Dash’s hooves and backed respectfully.
Rainbow Dash looked at the pattern, then back to the weapons. She was fast, but flight and throwing were two separate skills. This would take time. And that only made her more anxious to get on with it. “Which do I focus on first, speed or accuracy?”
“Accuracy,” Pensword answered emphatically. “Get the pattern down first. Muscle memory will help you develop the speed afterward.” He picked up the bundle and strode toward the tree. “Come on,” he said.
“Where are we going?”
“Closer, obviously.”
“What?” she yelped.
“First off,” Pensword pressed as he continued his approach to the tree, “you have no experience whatsoever with this weapon, save the brief training you received as part of your crash course. As such, you need to focus on refining your technique and ensuring you are competent enough to hit your target before you increase your distance.
“Secondly, this exercise is designed to also keep you out of trouble and keep that big mouth of yours shut. It’s one thing to exchange banter. It’s another to directly insult one of the heads of a clan when he or she is clearly still recovering from serious injury. You nearly sparked off a brawl with your carelessness. Your status as a relatively new addition to our clan and some very smooth talking from myself and your mate were the only things that kept you from enduring a veritable gauntlet of angry Thestrals. This is to be your punishment. And as you work on your skills, you are to review the finer points of Thestral etiquette, particularly pertaining to courting, boasting, and the various exceptions to those rules.
I anticipate you likely won’t finish these lessons until at least after the birth of your first foal. I hope you will use every second of this time wisely.”
“But I only—”
“You only wanted me to hunt again. I know. I appreciate the boldness you showed, Rainbow Dash, but as you know, charging in half-cocked can and will get you in a sea of trouble. You need to think more about the consequences of your actions, especially as a member of a noble house that you chose to remain a part of, despite your marriage to Kahn. You represent the Twilight court, which means you represent Twilight herself. How do you think that would go over politically, if word of that behavior traveled through the Thestral community without us knowing you personally?”
Rainbow frowned as her ears drooped and she lowered her head.
“You are a leader now, Rainbow Dash.” Pensword raised her chin with a hoof and smiled kindly at her. “I know how difficult that kind of burden can be to adjust to. In this case, study will be your greatest ally. Practice, listen, learn, and then apply those lessons as you execute your duties. You’ll find yourself better prepared overall and less likely to make mistakes.” He placed a tomahawk in her hooves. “Now come on. Let’s see just how well you remember those first lessons.”
Hammer Strike frowned to himself as he continued to apply paint to the canvas. The job was nearly complete. It just needed touching up in certain parts. The portrait left him feeling unsettled the longer he worked on it, a dull ache settled so far within himself he couldn’t figure out what was wrong. He continued to work, frowning to himself all the while as he painted bit by bit.
Until he started to hear hoofsteps rapidly approaching his office. He frowned. The pace and weight weren’t familiar. He wasn’t one hundred percent sure on who it was. “You’re free to enter,” he called out as usual.
The door swung open easily as Daring made her way into the passage. She quickly placed a worn carpet bag on Hammer Strike’s desk and withdrew a cloth-wrapped bundle. Seconds later, she revealed a perfect stone sphere coated in a series of flowing patterns and runes. “It took forever, but I finally found it. I had a test run by your mage to prove its age.” She passed the rock to the Pony lord. “Say hello to your cipher.”
“So we can finally figure out at least a generalized location on where the rest of the books are?” Hammer Strike asked as he continued his work on the painting, having shifted his attention for a moment to view the construct.
“It depends on the book itself. If the record was a magical artifact that’s endured this long, then it’ll leave a series of breadcrumbs to follow. A piece like this never likes to be separated for long. Honestly, I’m shocked they haven’t been found and reunited by now.”
“Well, I know the reason why they haven’t been already,” Hammer Strike replied. “And you’ll learn shortly.”
Daring raised a curious brow. “Dare I ask after your source?”
“You’d never find him or hear from him. But I’ve determined his validity.”
“Well, regardless, the cipher appears to have been modified with a hidden set of runes that lies within the exterior. It took me time to figure out how to open it. It only seems to react in the presence of an Alicorn’s magic, according to the reliefs where I found it. The exterior shell appears to have been crafted specifically to protect the information within the core itself.”
“So, we need alicorn-based magic is what you’re saying?”
“Or something of equivalent or greater power.”
“Whilst I would love to risk opening it myself, I’ll defer to actual Alicorn-based magic.” Hammer Strike sighed as he approached his desk and penned a letter. Then he rolled up the scroll, sealed it with his stamp, and held it off to the side before dropping it. The second it left his hoof, it vanished into the air.
A few moments later, Luna seemed to melt out of the shadows in the far corner of the room. “I just received your message.”
“Perfect on the timing,” Hammer Strike replied. “Daring has discovered a cipher, and rather than risking to open it myself, I figured it would be best to activate it by the means of power from which it was made.”
“Night magic?” Luna asked as she examined the sphere.
“Alicorn magic,” Hammer Strike clarified.
“Oh….” Luna seemed to consider this for a moment. “Well then, how do we go about this?”
“I’d assume it would be best to briefly use your magic on it and steadily increase the flow until we either get a response or you feel worried that it’ll break.”
Luna nodded and lit her horn. A tentative stream of her magic reached out to the sphere and levitated it gently into the air. A dull light pulsed along the stone as it began to spin slowly in her grasp. The flow continued as the ball spun faster, and Luna’s magic intensified. “It’s … pulling at me,” Luna grated as the lines pulsed faster and she reared her head back against the artifact’s absorption. In due course, the energy became solid and curled along tiny intricate fractures that looked almost like circuitry to flow into the main sigils, which glowed a hot white. Luna’s own eyes took on a similar coloration as she flared her wings and raised her head.
The sphere rose to the ceiling at her command, spinning faster and faster, until it finally jerked to a stop. A loud crack sounded, and the stone fragments broke apart with arcs of blue and white energy joining to a pulsing purple center. The rushing whisper of voices filled the room as alien runes and letters bobbed to the surface of the core, then disappeared again. The fragments slowly shifted from their positions to orbit around the core, and Luna opened her mouth to speak in a voice that echoed with duality and power.
Hammer Strike’s eyes widened when he recognized the language.
“Verifying genetic identification.” Tendrils of purple and white reached back along Luna’s magical stream to touch her horn and travel down the spirals. “Confirmed. Guidance core reclaimed. Alert. Emergency protocol activated. Bestiary and global positioning data have been scattered. Activating reclamation beacons.”
The core burned a radiant white as a scale model of Equis appeared in a holographic projection.
A series of white tendrils flowed out of Luna’s horn to wave in the air before them.
“Accessing historical files. Last known entry recorded by Zoologist Primus Zixeon. ‘Merciful Faust. It’s gone. It’s all gone. I’ve lost contact with the empire. All efforts to get through have yielded no results. They’re coming. I won’t let them have my work. Sleipnir give me strength. This may well destroy me, but the animals won’t be able to hack the security protocols without the whole record.’” Luna’s brow furrowed as the tethers reached out and passed through a misty gate. “Tracking telemetry. Tracing the course. Signal acquired.”
The orb flared again and a secondary projection appeared. “Fragment signatures detected. Location: Gaius, Terra Firma, Earth.” Luna’s legs began to tremble as sweat beaded her brow. “Warning: Mana levels reaching critical. Breaking connection to ethereal plane. Closing emergency protocols.” The tendrils retracted back into Luna’s horn, and the remaining energy from the core retreated as the stone shell slammed together with a thunderous crack. It clattered to the floor as luna’s magic ebbed. She gasped as the white light left her eyes and she regained consciousness.
“What … what happened?”
“Take it easy.” Hammer Strike stepped forward and used his body to keep her steady. “It was basically an automated system, and it took a lot of your magic to run it.”
“Did it find the information you needed?” Luna asked tiredly.
“Yes.” Hammer Strike sighed. “It’s on Earth,” he finished in Draconic.
“So you’ll need to talk to Discord again.” Luna smiled.
“Definitely,” he replied, rubbing the side of his head. “Hopefully, the time synchronization isn’t too far off this time,” he muttered.
“I need to rest,” Luna admitted. “Is there anything else you need?”
“No, that’s all I needed. Thank you again. If you’d like, I can make a portal back for you. I’m sure your magic reserves are low.”
“That would be appreciated.” Luna nodded, trying her best to keep face.
“Um, excuse me. Can somepony explain what the buck just happened?” Daring interjected. “And what do you mean talk to Discord? What’s he got to do with this? Are you trying to travel through time?”
“No, the remnants of the book are … elsewhere. Another world, to be frank,” Hammer Strike replied. “That entire deal was in another language, one that I, admittedly, hoped would never have had root here.”
“A dead tongue with no written record anywhere. I assume it’s the language the Alicorns spoke?”
“So it would seem.” Hammer Strike frowned.
“I’d ask why you hoped that language wouldn’t be here, but I get the feeling you wouldn’t tell me, even if I did.”
“Correct,” Hammer Strike replied as he reached to his side with hoof aflame. A ring of fire soon appeared at his side. “That should open up in your office, Luna. Sorry, but I don’t have a mental marker for any other location.”
“Thank you, Hammer Strike.” Luna smiled before she made her way through the portal.
Daring nodded as the portal closed behind the Alicorn, then turned her attention back to Hammer Strike. “I assume you want to keep the artifact with you?”
“It would be for the best. I’ll have to study it further, myself, but afterwards, I’ll have to gather the others for the trip to collect the other parts.” He sighed. “Well, Daring, you’re free to take some time off. On pay, of course, while we gather the rest of the parts. It could take as little as a week or as long as a month, depending on how things go.”
She shrugged. “Staying put that long isn’t usually my style, but if it’s for the sake of this mission, I suppose I can make the sacrifice.”
“How about I sweeten the deal, besides the fact that it’s a paid vacation?” Hammer Strike reached into his coat and pulled out Ulkrusher. “You like to study things that nobody else has been able to. How about it? It’ll help keep you stationary while we’re away.”
Daring’s jaw dropped. “You … want me to study that?”
“I’m sure it’ll help keep you from wandering off while we gather the pieces.”
“I could write a whole dissertation on this! This is a prime example of dwarven craftsmanship.”
“Have fun, and try not to flaunt it about. It’s not light, and it was made for war.”
Daring rolled her eyes. “Please. I’m not Rainbow Dash.”
“Yes, but you’re quite excitable.”
A few hours later, after some rest in Filly de Ys, Luna returned to Canterlot. She felt it would be wise to inform Celestia on the events that were in play, and what they may lead to.
It didn’t take long for the Lunar Alicorn to find her sister. There were only three or four locations Celestia frequented. The solar diarch was within her office, where a personal library nestled among the walls of the room. Her paperwork was neatly organized and completed, leaving her enough free time to have a cup of tea and read a good book. As soon as Luna entered, she smiled and lowered the tome she had been studying.
“Good evening, Sister,” Luna started off. “How was your day?”
“It was all right, though court dragged on longer than I would have liked.” She shrugged. “What brings you here?”
“Well, you probably weren’t aware, but I was here earlier today when a message arrived from Unity. You were busy, so I decided to answer it myself. It was from Hammer Strike. When I arrived, I found him and Miss Do waiting for me. You are familiar with her, I take it?“
Celestia frowned. “I’m sorry I missed you earlier. Had I known, I would have taken a break. But yes, I know Miss Do, and how she ties her archeological work into her stories. Why was she with Hammer Strike?”
“Apparently, Hammer Strike is having her look into information regarding the old Alicorns.” Luna smirked
“Is he trying to find the island?”
Luna nodded and her smile widened.
“It’s almost time, then.” Celestia smiled as she placed her book back onto one of the shelves. “How long have we been waiting?”
“You’d know better than I would,” Luna pointed out.
“Come on now, Luna. I know that I haven’t been the only one anticipating these events.”
“Soon, Sister.” Luna gently placed a wing on Celestia’s back. “Soon it will all be made right.”
Celestia gave a brief chuckle. “I wonder how much will change.”
“Too much.” Luna returned the chuckle. “And yet, I feel very little.”
“Well, I’m certain there will be plenty of talk in New Unity, at the very least. And Canterlot as soon as everything is settled.”
Luna laughed. “We’ll have to move the capital again.”
“I’m almost inclined to agree.” Celestia shook her head and smiled. “We’ll have to assist in any way we can in terms of locating it. Was there anything important he would need to look into?”
“He found a … device of some kind from the old ones. It needed Alicorn magic to activate.” Luna shivered. “It was an experience.”
“But everything turned out all right at least, right?”
“They need to locate … well, I think it’s a book, somewhere on Earth to bring back here.” Luna shrugged. “They’ll probably be approaching Discord soon about a portal.”
“I can bring it up to Discord, speed things along for him.” Celestia hummed to herself. “As for whatever other preparations they need, only time will tell.”
“I’m sure it will be fine. It is their homeworld, after all,” Luna noted. “Everything will go according to plan.”
“Of course it will. I’m sure he’ll make enough plans to cover all outcomes.”
“I’m sure he will,” Luna agreed.
Hammer Strike frowned to himself as he looked over several notes laid out in front of him on his desk. He didn’t have a general location just yet, but with Celestia, Luna, and Discord’s assistance, they should be able to make the portals as close to their objective as possible. Given the scale of the planet, however, it was likely to vary. He’d sent Vital to summon Grif and Pensword to his office. It was only a matter of time until they arrived, giving him just enough time to figure out points he wanted to cover.
Vital Spark appeared in a flash of light. “Figured I’d bypass the door this time. The others should be here shortly.”
Griff arrived a few seconds later. He gave hammer strike a nod before moving to the corner of the room.
Pensword trotted into the office wearing leg weights and two wing weights. He smiled casually, then stretched. “So, what’s the news?”
“To put matters simply,” Hammer Strike started as he placed his papers down. “Regarding the project Miss Do has been working on for some time now, we now know the location of the rest of the book. The reason you’re all gathered is because it’s on Earth.”
Pensword fell flat on his face as his hooves scrambled out from under him in his shock. “Say what?” he yelled. He took a breath as he stood back up and dusted himself off. “Okay, this can’t be a coincidence. My grandfather’s adopted brother is from Equestria. We end up here.” He held up his feathers and counted them like fingers. “And I am sure there are a few other ties I can’t remember right now. But you’re saying this book is now on Earth? Are we going to have to storm the Vatican? Buckingham Palace? The vaults of the Smithsonian?” He looked to Grif. “Tell me I’m not the only pony who’s starting to think our two worlds were linked at some point.”
“Earth, in the most likely case, is the closest realm to Equis,” Hammer Strike explained. “Meaning, when you cross the barrier, it’s most likely right after. Whatever attacked and killed the Alicorns left them in such a mess that one of the researchers sent the knowledge elsewhere to keep it secure, leading to the closest world he could throw it. Keep in mind, this is all hypothetical.”
“It fits, though. If you want to make sure no one can make use of your data, what better way than to fling it somewhere it can never be deciphered, other than perhaps destroying it?” Vital asked.
“The written text is certainly interesting, and takes some effort to understand, but,” Hammer Strike’s expression shifted as he sighed. “The verbal language isn’t something I’m unfamiliar with.”
Pensword’s ears flattened. “Don’t tell us it’s a dead language. Ancient Egyptian? Norse?”
“Si modo,” Hammer Strike muttered. “The verbal language is Latin.”
“I was hoping it was something different.” Pensword deadpanned.
“So, we just swoop in, pick it up, and do a quick fly by back to Equis, with a possible side trip to the UN, so I can address the representatives of the world about Equestria?”
“It’s apparently in multiple pieces, so we’ll all be split up to gather it,” Hammer Strike hummed to himself. “You all, of course, do not have to go. I simply thought it would be best to put the offer out.”
“You know I’ll go,” Grif spoke up.
“Historical artifact? Adventure? History?” Pensword danced on his hooves. “Oh, yes. I so want to do this.”
“When were we planning to leave?” Vital asked.
“Sometime soon, at least within the month. I’d like to get this dealt with as soon as possible,” Hammer Strike replied as he picked up a few papers from his desk and began reading through them.
“I take that as a sign this meeting is done and we go get our affairs in order for this trip?” Pensword asked.
“Prepare everything you need, and I’ll give you all a date when I can.”
“All right. I’ll let Trixie know, then. Any other errands you need me to run before I start my preparations?” Vital asked.
“Not right now, but perhaps later today.”
“I’ll keep the comms crystal on me, then. See you later, Shawn.” The Unicorn clopped out the door and out of sight.
Hammer Strike gave a brief wave. “The same goes for you both as well. I’ll keep you posted on when we’ll be going as soon as I figure it all out myself.”
“Sounds good,” Pensword answered. “I’ll see you tomorrow. It’s going to be a while talking to the wives about this situation.”
“Okay. I need to talk to Clover, anyway. There’s a project we need to work on.” Grif casually walked out the door, followed by Pensword.
“So, by using an argon crystal core and ebony for the arcane circuits, it should be capable of holding a magical charge for just about a week in an anti-magical environment. Given that we don’t have an environment like what you asked about, I thought that might be the closest thing,” Clover explained to grif as they examined the object on the table before them.
It was an octahedron made from a metal that looked like gold. Deep black wiring wrapped around it to attach at various points.
“And we will be able to draw from it?” Grif asked.
“There’s the design flaw.” Clover sighed. “Each battery will only hold its charge until you draw power from it, meaning that you have to take everything out of it. If my calculations are accurate, each probably contains a twenty-four-hour mana charge.”
“It’s better than nothing. It should at least keep us from coughing up blood by the second day this time.”
“As long as you don’t exert yourselves,” Clover added. “This is all based on you not using any magic while you’re there. If you have to use any, I’d suggest being as sparring as possible. You’ll have to repress your urge to show off.”
Grif chuckled at the barb. “I’ll do my best to suppress the need.” He scrutinized the object. “And these are stable?”
“Stable as I can make them, given the time frame. I wouldn’t suggest hitting someone over the head with one, but barring repeated severe blunt force, I think they’ll stand up reasonably well.”
“So, now comes the question. How long will it take you to rig up thirty-five or so of these?” Grif asked cautiously.
“Thirty-five?” Clover asked.
“Apparently, we’ll be having a few unexpected tagalongs,” Grif noted. “I’d rather have as many of us prepared as possible.”
“Well, the number is larger than I expected, but not outside the realm of possibility.” Clover trailed off as she performed some calculations in her head.
“Well?” Grif pressed.
“Give me a day.” Clover strode to the door. “I’m going to call in a favor.”
Pensword smiled as he watched Cristo, Inigo, and Day Moon all playing with Moon River. They were currently all out in the Thestral area as the four of them gathered up old soap boxes, axles, and wheels to create, of all things, a Soapbox car. Night Terror, Fox Feather, and Lunar Fang stood on either side of him.
“Should I be worried?” Night Terror asked as she eyed Day Moon’s antics with the screwdriver in an attempt to mount brackets that would hold the axle in place. “Shouldn’t you be helping?”
“I did,” Pensword replied. “I drilled the holes. They want to build it themselves, so I’ll let them. If they want my help or their mothers’, they’ll ask.
“Did you ask the others about this idea?” Lunar Fang asked. “This seems to be moving things along rather quickly.”
“In what way? Did you not hear about the Ponyville derby?” he asked. “That is a school project that build carts, and then there's the Ponyville parade with their floats. We’re safe. After all, New Unity needs its own events. We can’t mooch off Ponyville forever.”
“Perhaps.” Lunar Fang shrugged.
Fox Feather wrapped a wing around Lunar Fang and grinned. “Are you jealous you aren't building a cart? I’m sure we can get spare wood to make something for the adults.”
Pensword’s eyes lit up, and Lunar Fang smiled. It reminded her of when they first met.
“That is so right,” Pensword said. Just because we’re grownups and running the city or dukedoms or businesses and cities doesn’t mean we can’t have just as much fun. We should make an event for the grownups, too.” His mouth parted into a toothy grin.
“Family?” Moon River suddenly asked from Pensword’s back. Night Terror jumped in surprise and let out a startled hiss, then blushed when she realized what she’d just done.
“She was just over there!” Night Terror pointed exasperatedly with a wing to the empty box Moon River had been sitting on. “How can she be on your back now?”
Pensword ignored the question as he took to the air, twisted, and caught his daughter in midair. “Yes, we should do that,” he agreed. “In fact, that would help with something I need to tell you all.” He settled onto the ground, but the light in his eyes faltered, even as he continued to smile.
“All right, what’s the situation, Commander?” Fox Feather asked. She knew that expression too well.
Pensword sighed. “Well, it seems that there is a very important historical artifact that Lord Hammer Strike needs to locate, one that could shine a light on the early Equestrian history. The only problem is, well, it’s located where Matthew is from.”
“The Human?” Night Terror asked. “How’d they get this book?”
“Don’t know,” Pensword fibbed. He knew Lunar Fang and Fox Feather would ask later, “But I have to go to his world to look for it.”
“Earth?” Moon River asked. “Wanna see,” she declared excitedly.
“I’m sorry, but it’s a little too dangerous.”
“I want to see.” Moon River brandished her toy Crossbow. “Wanna see!”
“You won’t get to see Cosy, if you do,” Pensword countered smoothly. He just prayed they could get the prince to come visit.
She strung together the next sentence, speaking each word slowly and clearly. “I want to see Earth.”
Pensword looked to Lunar Fang in desperation.
His silent plea did not go unanswered. “You’re not going,” Lunar fang told her daughter matter-of-factly.
“I want to go. I want to go!” she whined.
“Why?” Night Terror asked.
“I want to,” Moon River said.
“Why?”
“I wa—.”
“Why?” Night Terror interrupted again.
This time, Moon River’s mouth hung open, and she paused, then scrunched her eyebrows together in intense concentration. It took nearly a half a minute for her to consider how best to put her desires into the limited vocabulary she had at her command.
“Mommy went,” she said uncertainly. Then she added an assertive, “Family,” as if that would explain everything.
“What if I brought back pictures for you?” Pensword asked.
She shook her head. “No. I want family.”
Pensword frowned. “But you have family right—.” And then the lightbulb went off. “You mean you want to meet the rest of them.” Pensword sighed and shook his head. “I can’t do that this time. You’re still too young to make the journey, and Discord will be straining as it is with the extra passengers. What if I were to bring back a present from your grandparents?”
Moon River was quiet for a time as she thought this offer over. “Fine,” she finally acceded. “But no fake animals!”
He frowned. “What do you want, then?”
“Book!”
“Okay.” Pensword sighed, wondering how in Tartarus he was going to get a book from his parents signed, mailed, and delivered before they had to come back. He doubted they would land anywhere close by this time around. Vital Spark was definitely a possibility. If he really intended to stay in New York, that provided a proper location to mail the package. Then Vital Spark could deliver the package to him, and he could give it to Moon River. Brilliant!
“But I go when safe?” Moon River wheedled. Penword shuddered. It was clear that while the battle had been won, the war was far from over. The foal’s crusade had only just begun.
“Moon River, come over here and help with the steering gear,” Day Moon called. Suddenly, the foal was gone in a blink of an eye.
Night Terror stared wide-eyed at the three parents. “Is nopony going to tell me how she does that? It’s getting harder to tell where she is, even for me.”
Pensword and Fox Feather smirked. Lunar Fang hid a chuckle behind her wing.
“She’s our daughter. And frankly, I think you need some time loosening up, so why don’t you go help them? Go on, get your hooves dirty. They won’t mind,” Pensword encouraged.
Night Terror shook her head. “This is just unbelievable. I don’t know who’s right about foal-rearing and family dynamics anymore, the Solar Courts or the Lunar.”
“Maybe between the two?” Pensword suggested and smiled gently. “Come on, dears. Let’s see if we can make something for ourselves. We should be willing to get messy as well, after all.” He winced as Moon River knocked over a small jar of deer grease. The bath that was sure to follow would prove to be a great trial; he knew. “Just … not that messy.”
Moon River giggled wickedly.
Rarity sang to herself as she finished off yet another gown for her newest line. This one followed a more cosmic theme, taking a futuristic approach with an aquamarine fabric surrounded by a series of filmy rings that hovered weightlessly around the dress, thanks to cleverly sewn runes hidden in the hem and lining of the dress itself. The headpiece was tipped by an elegant trio of feathers fluffed to appear as cloudlike as possible. “Yes, I do believe I’ve absolutely outdone myself on this one,” she said with a smile.
“I’m inclined to agree,” Hammer Strike commented as he stepped closer. “Certainly one of your more intricate works.”
Rarity let out an indelicate scream as she leaped into the air, then landed in Hammer Strike’s forelegs. “Oh, Darling, you startled me!” She laughed then and kissed him on the cheek. “Though if I get to be held like this every time, I could get used to it.”
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to sneak up on you,” Hammer Strike apologized. “But, I’ve come with news.”
Rarity chuckled. “Put me down, then, and I’ll get a pot of tea going.”
Hammer Strike did so and followed her into the kitchen. “It’s time for me to keep a promise.”
“What sort of promise?” Rarity levitated a purple-and-white china pot down from a cupboard and opened a jar to levitate a combination of leaves and dried flower blossoms into a diffuser.
“Well, I promised you that the next trip to Earth, I would take you along,” Hammer Strike replied with a small smile. “I’ve already talked with Celestia and Luna about making you a charm to help disguise you.”
“It’s that time already?” Rarity poured water into a kettle and handed it to Hammer Strike. “Would you mind, Dear?”
Hammer Strike steadily heated up the water as he held the kettle. “Yes, it is. Though, this is more for business than pleasure,” he clarified. “We have certain relics to recover, but with how the last trip went, I’m positive I can keep things fine.”
“You always keep things fine.”
“So, with this happening, I thought it might be best to get some practice in, as I’m sure you’d appreciate the ability to move in a bipedal stance without tripping.” His smile widened. “They should almost be done with the charm, and then we can get to it.”
One flash of light later, the kitchen suddenly felt a lot smaller as two Alicorns flared their wings and finally retracted them to peer at the couple.
“Oh, Princess Celestia, Princess Luna. I wasn’t expecting you. I assume you’re here about my artifact for the journey?” Rarity asked.
“And I take it Hammer Strike has already explained his desire to bring you with him to the human world,” Celestia returned. “Yes, we have your accessory here. Luna and I just wanted to ensure the attunement was successful.”
“Well, this will be interesting. I’m going to have an audience for my first change,” Rarity said. “And with the princesses no less.” She smirked at her joke. “How close are we to steeping temperature, Darling?” she asked of her husband.
“Just about now,” Hammer Strike replied as he lifted the kettle.
“Would you care for a cup of tea before the show, ladies?” she asked as she inserted the infuser into the kettle using her magic.
“I think I could stand at least one cup of the legendary brew from the Dancing Dragon.” Celestia smiled as she sat down near the table. Luna soon followed as Rarity and Hammer Strike each took their own chairs around the tiny table.
When the four had enjoyed a session of tea with the accompanying cookies and other treats, Rarity strode back to the front of the shop and flipped the sign to Closed. “All right,” she said as she entered into the kitchen again. “Let’s get this over with. I know I’m going to have to learn how to work with this form, and I want to be good and ready when it’s time to cross over.”
Luna nodded. “These should prove satisfactory for the event.” Her horn lit up and a small box levitated out of a saddlebag that seemed to waver into existence out of thin air. When Rarity opened the box, a pair of delicate gold earrings stared back at her. Two diamonds had been mounted in either setting, etched with the smallest and most intricate runes that gave the jewels a partially cloudy appearance.
“And the trigger?” Rarity asked as she levitated the earrings onto her ears.
“One full three-hundred-sixty-degree turn,” Celestia said. “It will need to be deliberate, of course, but it should work well after it’s been matched with your unique magical aura.
“Attune away,” Rarity said meekly. “I’m ready.”
It didn’t take all that long. The princesses’ magic touched Rarity’s aura, and a bright purple not unlike the color of her element circled around the mare before it flared and licked around the rings. The twin gems glowed the same color, then died down again to their usual clarity. When the magical wind summoned by the attunement finally died down, she smiled and nodded.
“I suppose all that’s left is to try it. I assume I’ll want to be in a wide open space to help with balance?” Rarity asked her husband.
“For the best,” Hammer Strike replied as he raised his hoof and turned the gem on his own charm, changing to his human form. “Probably be best if I assist in form as well.”
“It’s been a while since I’ve seen you so tall,” Rarity said with a coy smirk as they left the kitchen to enter her living room. “Well then, let’s see how I look.” She used her magic to turn the command gem. A bright flash of light emanated. When it receded, a sleek woman about five-foot-eight stood in the place of the Pony. Her features were healthy and strong on her pale skin, revealing just a hint of her cheekbones. Her figure was lean and fit, with shapely muscles that carried over from her training with Seamripper. Her long black hair stretched down to the small of her back, and it flashed purple when the light struck it at just the right angle. Her eyes remained as endearing and expressive as always, and her lashes were perfectly styled to match the combination of blush, eyeshadow, and mascara she wore.
The new human swayed unsteadily on her feet as she struggled to remain upright, only to stumble directly into her husband’s arms. “Well, I suppose that answers the question of how well I’d do,” she said with a flirtatious giggle.
“Lasted a good few seconds. And considering you’ve never been in a different form, especially one that is bipedal, I’d say you’re doing just fine,” Hammer Strike replied with a smile.
“So, this is what it feels like to have hands and … feet, you called them?” she asked as she wiggled her bare toes in the air. “How strange.”
“You’ll get used to it,” he replied. “And, given that we aren’t leaving for at least a week or so, you’ll get plenty of practice time, and most likely come up with new designs for clothing.” He placed his coat over her. “Without fur, it tends to get cold as well.”
“I … suppose it is just a tad drafty in here,” Rarity said as an involuntary shudder passed through her frame. “Though it is supposed to be more pleasant for this form in the later spring and early summer, isn’t it?”
“Depends, but for the most part, I’d suspect so.”
“Will it still be this cold when we pass through?”
“Depends on what season it is on Earth, so I’d suggest nothing too thick, but make an overcoat in case.”
“Duly noted.” She flicked her head and her hair swayed dramatically behind her as she looked intently at a nearby roll of measuring tape. The roll didn’t budge an inch. She furrowed her brow and tried again, practically glaring at the item as a flush that definitely had nothing to do with makeup rose in her cheeks.
“The human form doesn’t have a focus to allow your magic to escape,” Hammer Strike explained as he noted her struggle.
Rarity gasped and released her concentration. “Well, that would explain a thing of two,” she said as she looked down at her hands. The fingers were all curled into balls to form her natural hoof. One by one, she willed them to separate and flex on their own. “I’ll have to remember to thank Twilight for the warning. Even though I know these should move on their own, I still feel the instinct to clench them together,” she mused.
“Allow me,” Celestia offered as she raised the measuring tape in her golden aura and levitated it to Rarity. “If you need some help taking your measurements, Luna, Hammer Strike, and I should be more than sufficient to ensure accuracy for you.”
“Though a sketch or a picture may also help,” Luna noted. “You’ve designed for humans before, but never a female of the species. There are bound to be some differences.”
“I’m afraid I haven’t the slightest clue what’s happened to mine. Sweetie and the crusaders said they had to borrow it. Something about an unseeable alien.”
“We’ll figure it out,” Hammer Strike said dismissively.
“Dinky said it was perfectly safe, regardless, and it’s not like they haven’t gone through worse here in Ponyville,” Rarity pointed out. “I told them as long as they had a responsible adult with them, like Time Turner, they could use it.”
Hammer Strike stood silently for a moment before briefly glancing over to Celestia and Luna. “Responsible. Yeah.”
“With the threat of Derpy hanging over his shoulder if anything happens?” Rarity added.
Hammer Strike deadpanned. “Responsible. Yeah.”
New Unity’s war room had changed during the year-and-a-half since the trio had traveled back to the Third Gryphon War. With the aid of Crystal Empire tech imported courtesy of Comic, they now had a functional holographic table displaying a constant update on the city’s progress while thin crystal sheets embedded in the walls displayed scrolls of information varying from statistics on troop readiness to various threat levels. Some techs Comic had trained worked on tweaking the systems while secretaries recorded various memos on typewriters and recruits were trained on battle tactics using a smaller version of the great table to run combat scenarios, such as the first Changeling invasion.
“Huh. This place got a real update since the last time I was here,” Vital noted. “Comic really is a miracle worker when he wants to get a job done, isn’t he?”
“Well, when you have Crystal Pony technicians and more money than Faust….” Grif chuckled.
“Point taken,” Vital said.
“It is rather impressive, but I’ve noticed that seems to happen often to Hammer Strike.” Rarity smiled sweetly. A hairpin with three diamonds had been set into her mane just above the ear. A flowing dress with a light jacket completed the ensemble.
“Certainly keeps things interesting,” Hammer Strike replied with a faint chuckle.
“Interesting? Please, that’s far from the word I’d use for it.” Discord’s voice rang drolly through the air in a disembodied echo. “Hammer Strike always gets the fun toys. It’s so depressingly predictable.”
“Hello, Discord,” Pensword muttered as he worked to smooth his feathers and fur from the shock.
Discord appeared on one of the screens in a flash of light. His figure was a perfect digital rendering. “Pensword, always a pleasure to see you jump. Ah, and the lovely Rarity. Radiant as ever, I see.” The Draconequus smirked as he stuck his head out from the crystal surface and said appendage returned to its regular form. “And I see you’ve brought Trixie along. Where are Sun Butt and Looney? I thought we were all supposed to be enjoying this meeting together.”
“Shut up, Discord,” Grif grunted. “Not the time for this.”
“I can only handle one being at a time disrespecting the princesses, and Girf is already here. So, please, show some respect.” Pensword grit his teeth as he struggled to keep his temper under control.
“Oh? I don’t recall hearing any other insults being sent their way. Besides, it’s good for them to develop a thick skin. Perhaps you should consider it, too. I could help you, if you like,” he said with a malicious grin as he held a taloned hand primed to snap. Then he frowned at Hammer Strike. “But I suppose the party pooper over there wouldn’t approve.” He sighed and appeared in the middle of the room in a flash of light. “So, how much longer do we need to wait on the princesses before I send you all off? I do have certain other engagements to attend to this evening, after all,” he said as he pulled out a large scroll that unrolled to spill onto the floor and into the wall, where it began to build up into a crumpled pile.
“I already have a headache,” Pensword muttered as he rubbed his forehead with a wing tip.
Grif looked at Hammer Strike, as if asking permission. When he got a small nigh-imperceptible nod, he walked toward the Draconequus. His claws glowed abnormally for an instant before they smacked fully into the chaos spirit’s gut and pinned him to the floor. He grinned at the surprise on Discord’s face. “Oh, this? I can’t kill you, but Hammer strike’s shown me enough to make it hurt. So, listen up and listen good. While we’re gone, you aren’t going to cause any trouble around Unity or Ponyville. You go to Fluttershy’s, you leave, and not a single needle on a Windsdamned pine tree is off by a single shade of green. You do anything, and we’ll know. And then you’ll wish you were a mortal. If there is an emergency, you will help to the best of your considerable power. If you can’t, you’ll call us back instantly to help. No waiting, like you did last time. Am I transparent?”
“This isn’t exactly the most endearing behavior, Grif,” Discord said through narrowed gaze. “At least I’m trying to help. Give a Pony some credit.” He craned his neck to look at Hammer Strike. “And as for you, I am very disappointed. Giving away secrets like that. Tisk tisk, Hammer Strike. For shame.”
Hammer Strike shrugged. “Considering you found a way to temporarily dispose of me, I figured a backup would be best.”
“It wasn’t endearing letting Chrysalis attack Unity unopposed while my wife was giving birth either.” Grif gave his talons a sharp twist before he withdrew them.
“And you expected me to simply pull you back, just like that, when it took nearly everything I had to give you the charge you needed to remain last time?” A second Discord appeared in a flash of light, this one dressed in a snazzy lawyer’s suit and tie, complete with glasses as he pulled out a document from a briefcase made out of soap. “And let’s not forget the fact that the defendant in question had only just begun his reformation, and as such, could not be expected to follow all norms and expected guidelines, having not learned to understand the greater subtleties associated with friendship.”
“How long do you think it would take him to re-grow his larynx?” Grif asked Hammer Strike.
“Grif, I think he gets the message,” Vital said placatingly. “And if it’s really taking that long, then why not have Hammer Strike send them a message? He has the dragon fire lamps, after all.”
A few seconds later, twin flashes of light heralded the princesses’ arrival.
“Okay, is it just me or is practically going blind from teleportation glare turning into a bit of a theme here?” Vital asked as he rubbed his eyes.
“I wouldn't know. Pegasi are used to lighting flashes. While bright, they’re not too bad,” Pensword quipped. Lunar fang had shut her eyes the moment it hit, and was currently rubbing her head with a hoof.
“Sorry we’re late, everypony. There were some last minute issues we had to address at the Solar Court,” Celestia said.
“And by we, she means she,” Luna added.
“Luna!”
“It’s the truth,” Luna pointed out with a mischievous smirk.
Celestia sighed and rolled her eyes. “We had hoped to prepare something special for the governments of your world as a sign of peace and good faith, but we couldn’t decide on a proper gift.”
“You know you could’ve come to me for ideas, right?” Vital pointed out. “I could’ve told you a plethora of gift ideas that would have been welcomed with open arms.”
Celestia facehoofed. “Why is it I always seem to overlook the most obvious answer?”
“Probably because the nobles in Canterlot keep making things too complicated,” Vital replied.
“While this conversation is truly a riveting experience, can we please get on with the reason we’re all here already? I have a tea date to keep with Fluttershy, and I would rather not be late, thank you very much,” Discord snipped.
“I believe you said you needed the both of us, Hammer Strike?” Celestia asked. “Luna filled me in on the basics, but not quite everything.”
Hammer Strike tapped a familiar device on the table. “Basically, using a steady field of power from both of you would keep the device from draining you entirely. Using it while the portal is active would help guide the portal’s destinations for us, leading us to at least a close enough point to find said objects.”
“And there won’t be any ill effects from its interaction with Discord’s magic?” Celestia asked.
“Unlikely, as it seemed unresponsive to anything that wasn’t to an extreme.”
“So this artifact is designed to absorb an Alicorn’s magic to function,” Celestia mused. “Does it accept commands? That might help increase the accuracy when pinpointing the location.”
“It might, but I am uncertain on how to phrase it or if it will even grant access to the records.” Hammer Strike glanced over to Celestia. “Sed intelligere potes?”
“I’m sorry, what did you just say?” Celestia asked as she cocked her head to the side in confusion.
“‘But can you understand?’ said in their native tongue,” Hammer Strike replied. “The problem is that not everything can be translated over, so it takes time to form questions that would work perfectly in our favor.”
“So you want us to power this instead, and hope that it will point you in the right direction when it activates?”
“I’ll see what questions it responds to. Based off its previous results, it is bound to lead us in a general direction, at the very least.”
Celestia turned to Discord. “How long will they have this time?”
Discord shrugged. “How should I know? I’m a god of chaos, remember? I’ll give them a boost and push them through, but the rest is up to them.” He glared at Grif. “And no, I’m not being stingy, mister starchy pants,” he said pointedly as his hand turned into a broom and he flicked a pile of dust into the air out of nowhere.
“Give us your best guess,” Luna stated coldly.
Discord rolled his eyes, which promptly popped out of his head and morphed into polyhedron twenty-sided dice with a roving pupil in each core. “I would assume somewhere around whatever amount of time it took last time. How should I know for sure? I’m not an oracle, you know.” His eyes returned to his head after he blinked twice. “I would assume anywhere between two to five days, a week at the very most,” he groused as he folded his arms. “There. Happy now?”
“It will do,” Luna said. “Are you all prepared?”
“As can be,” Hammer Strike replied simply.
“Same.” Grif nodded.
“Eeeyup,” Vital said.
“I am. I just need to ask Vital to contact my family for me. There’s a particular item I need them to ship to him, wherever he winds up, since he’s planning on reporting to the UN, anyway,” Pensword replied.
“Sure. I can do that. What’s their number?” Vital asked.
Pensword blinked. “Uh…” He rooted around in his saddlebag and pulled out a book. “I am so glad they wrote down the information. I’m not sure if the number is still there, but you can look for the Cloud Ranch in George Park, Gold County. It’s owned by Heather and Hector Conner. If they send letters or packages, bring them with you. I’m sure they’ll send more than the children’s book I want. Oh, and don’t forget to ask them to sign it with a letter for Moon River.” Pensword shook his head and sighed. “I just wish there was time to visit. Maybe on a third trip.”
“I’ll look into it,” Vital promised. “And Trixie will make sure I don’t forget, won’t you, Trixie?”
She laughed. “I’ll nag him about it until he does it.”
“Good. Because I do not want an angry Moon River when I get back.”
“Then let’s get to it,” Hammer Strike said. “First, let’s activate the device. Discord, once it is active, open a portal to assist in it giving a location.”
Discord spun in a blurring tornado. When he slowed again, he we bedecked in a pristine white sea captain’s outfit, complete with ascot. “Aye aye, Admiral!”
Pensword’s left eye twitched, then narrowed.
Luna and Celestia both stood on either side of the core and looked to one another with blank expressions. The tension was strong in the room as the pair began to circle the orb, slowly at first, then in a steady trot. Their horns glowed, and as they continued, their magic reached out to the artifact and bent to form a spiralling pattern as the two cast in unison.
“Get ready,” Celestia said. “Something’s about to—”
Once more, the orb flashed open. This time, the power remained contained. The white energy held tightly around the orb as its shell orbited.
“Which is a funny analogy, as this is from a lost empire as well, and we are looking for the lost Island, so I’m not surprised you got that.” Pensword paused. “I wish we had as cool of a submarine, though.”
“Discord, if you would, please?” Celestia said.
A few seconds later, a swirling blue portal appeared, sucking away at everything in sight and stirring the room with its wind. Discord dusted himself off. “There. It’s done. Now hurry it up. I can’t hold these things open forever, you know. Well, maybe if I were angry enough, but you haven’t pushed me nearly far enough yet.”
“You’re chaos, not wrath.” Pensword quipped as he looked around. His ears splayed back to display his worry. “So, will we see where we’re landing or are we going in blind again?”
“I would assume relatively blind. We should recognize where we are, though, once we’ve had a chance to orient ourselves, right, Hammer Strike?” Vital asked.
“For the most part,” Hammer Strike replied. “Once we can get a tether going from the device, it’ll help locate things and adjust the position of the portal.”
“And how long will it take for this tether to—?” Celestia was cut off from her question as a concentrated beam shot out from the core into the portal. Discord’s creation flinched and pulled in on itself, as though it had taken a heavy blow. Then it stabilized again, this time with a lighter shade of its usual color. The light continued to pulse regularly into it. “I suppose that answers that question.”
“I thought it was going to do something like that.” Pensword glanced around. “Shall I go first?”
“Observe the destination and keep to your objective.” Hammer Strike directed their attention to where the portal revealed sprawling sands and the distant rush of crashing waves. A hot dry wind blew out into the room as the silicate danced and swirled in playful eddies. There were some signs of civilization in the far distance, but nothing close enough to determine exact location. Pensword’s wings flared almost against his will at the warm air playing over his feathers, even as the glare of the hot sun sent heat waves billowing before them to distort all sense of proper direction.
Pensword blinked from the harsh sunlight and the heat of noon day. “A Desert. How… typical.” He looked to the others. “I wish I had my pith helmet, but I’ll do my best. How will we know when we find the locations?”
“Central point of the portal should reveal it,” Hammer Strike directed once more.
Pensword looked, but saw nothing but sand and a cliff in the distance. “So, uh, just follow straight? Try to stay in a straight line?”
“Keep your destination in mind and head for it,” Hammer Strike replied simply.
Pensword nodded, took a deep breath, and stepped purposefully into the desert beyond the portal.
“Advance to next segment,” Hammer Strike called out in Latin, hoping the device would accept the command.
The portal shifted to depict a large flat grassland field with towering mountains in the distance and a clear blue sky. Beneath the shadow of the mountains, horses ran wild in the heat of the day. Near the center of the portal, a river flowed smoothly across the country.
“I’ll see you in a week.” Grif nodded to the others as he flared his wings and soared into the blue sky on the other side.
“Advance to final segment,” Hammer Strike commented once more, watching at the portal shifted to reveal a large white structure with countless pillars and archways. Thankfully, his search was narrowed to the fact that it had a sign out front, naming it the Smithsonian National Museum.
“Well, after we head through, it’s up to you Discord to line up a portal for Vital and Trixie,” Hammer Strike commented as he stepped up to the portal with Rarity. Both had already switched to their human forms as they stepped through.
“To the UN, Jeeves, and step on it,” Vital Spark exclaimed as he turned his gem and returned to human form. Discord scowled, but the humor was well placed. He would have to plan something special for the Unicorn later. “Trixie, I can’t wait to show you my friends on the other side.” The Unicorn smirked. “Remind me to show you The Princess and the Frog, if I get the chance.”
“Of course,” Trixie said as she lifted her leg and carefully turned the gem hidden among the pearls. The figure that stood before them wore a simple dress that streamed down her frame in a stately, almost ethereal design. Stars speckled the navy fabric in an approximation of nighttime, while an opening along the back had been shaped like a wand to embody her cutie mark. The familiar shape of the crescent scythe had been hidden as waning crescents cradling the stars. Her hair was a startling shock of white that offset the ensemble and stretched all the way down to her waist. Her cheeks were prominent and lush with the natural beauty that absolute confidence creates in a woman. Her fair skin brushed the pale hand of her husband as Conor stood in the same garments he had worn when he fell through to Equestria the second time. He offered her a fur stole to complete the ensemble.
“A little flashy, but it’ll do for now. We can see about getting more casual clothing after we report.”
“Would you love me any other way?” she teased.
“Always,” he said as he kissed her cheek. “No matter how you look.”
“As sweet as this revolting sentimentality is, we have a deadline to keep,” Discord said as he snapped his fingers and the familiar shape of an open pavilion appeared. A circle of flags surrounded the area, each bearing the colors of a foreign nation. “Go on. Get moving!”
Vital chuckled. “After you or together?” he asked his wife as he slid his hand into hers.
“Do you even have to ask?”
The two stepped in synch, and the portal disappeared as Discord, Celestia, and Luna all collapsed on the floor. The core clattered as it bounced and rolled over the wooden floorboards. Whatever was to happen next, it was out of their hooves and hands now.
“Good luck, Hammer Strike,” Celestia said in a low voice. “You’ll need it.”
Extended Holiday Chapter 156: Raiders of the Lost Artifacts Act 28
It had been a good two hours, based on the sun’s movements. Pensword had improvised a hat and mask from the materials in his saddlebag to keep the sun out of his eyes and sand away from his nose and mouth. Still, the sun was hot on his fur, and it was difficult to find any place for shade or rest. The thermals brushed his wings with euphoric grace as he glided low over the sands toward the mountains in the distance.
The desert air was silent, save for the hot winds that stirred the shifting sands. He banked toward a nearby crevice to get out of the sun. Now that he had a proper idea of the lay of the land, he needed to ground himself before he used too much of his magical reserves. His keen sight revealed the passage led straight toward his destination.
He followed the new path and eventually arrived at a spring a few hours later. As he leaned down to drink from the water, his ears perked and his eyes darted over the oasis. The wind arrived a few moments later with a deafening howl as sand was tossed and spat in a rapidly forming cloud.
Pensword coughed as the unnatural cloud thickened and stung at his eyes and nose. “Sand storm,” he muttered darkly. “Of course.” He leaped back into the shelter of the crevice, but he knew it wouldn’t be long before the passage would likely be filled. He had to move quickly. The Pegasus tied his cloth over his mouth and used a wing as a shield to protect his eyes as he pushed forward.
The wind bit at the Pegasus as the sands tried to bury him. He had little choice but to use his wings and magic to generate a counter gale from time to time as he stumbled through. The wind whistled through his ears as the storm raged.
“Anubis….”
Pensword froze. His ears swivelled nervously. The voice was little more than a whisper. Was he hearing things?
“Anubis, where are you?”
This was definitely not a hallucination. This was someone on the hunt. The voice was filled with murderous intent. He shuddered as the winds intensified. This wasn’t natural. “Show yourself!” Pensword yelled.
“What’s this?” the wind hissed. “Do my eyes deceive me?” The winds parted into a sand devil that circled the Pony. “What is one of your kind doing in my hunting ground?”
“Reveal yourself, and then we can talk, spirit,” Pensword repeated.
“Very well. I may as well give the coward a little respite before I resume the chase.” The winds died down. The sand cloud sifted back into the dunes, and as it did so, a figure slowly phased into existence through the curtain. Pensword tore off his makeshift mask and gaped at the sight. The Gryphon was a large male with a long neck and smaller black feathered head that sprouted a long curved beak. His feathers from his neck down were white with deep black rosettes covering his body as it translated into fur. His strong wings were rimmed with black, and he was dressed in refined armor of polished bronze with sections of glowing blue that covered his chest. He held a bow that looked like a much more advanced version of the Gryphon bows Pensword had seen. A curved sword lay on his hip with a bronze shield slung across his back between his wings.
“A Gryphon.” He shook his head in disbelief. “What are you doing on Earth? And more importantly, what era do you hail from? That armor clearly predates the Third Gryphon war.”
“War?” The Gryphon’s gaze locked on the Pegasus. “What war? The only war my people have is with those who call themselves ‘the children of Faust.’ Allow me to follow your question with another question. What is a pony doing here?” His gaze narrowed suspiciously as he bore his teeth. “Do your masters send you to stop my pursuit of the traitor Anubis?”
“I have no master,” Pensword growled back, then smacked his forehead with a wing. “I don’t have time for this. Let’s just leave it at the fact that a lot happened after your death.” He took a few steps forward, then paused and turned to face the Gryphon again. “Anubis? As in the god of death?”
“A god? You dare to call that lowly mutt a god?” The sands began to whirl again as the spirit’s anger mounted.
Pensword raised his wings placatingly. “I am referring to the mythology of the humans in this plane. They once worshipped a god by that name in these regions, and there are some who still do as one whose duty is to prepare the dead to face judgement. I meant no offense. Who is this Anubis that you hate so much? Why do you pursue him?”
The proud Gryphon puffed his chest and began to pace. “Anubis,” he spat, “is the accursed Diamond Dog who led the ritual that sealed the Winds, our gods, true gods, away from us.” A low growl rumbled from his chest. “I will chase him down and flay his hide every day for all of eternity.”
“A Diamond Dog?” Pensword gaped incredulously. Could it be that this Anubis was the very king Grif had so heartily despised? And if so…. “Uh, did he happen to carry a weapon they call a khopesh?” he asked worriedly. “And pray, forgive my impertinence, but who am I addressing?”
“He doesn’t carry a khopesh,” the Gryphon said as he drew his sword. This time, Pensword could take in the full sickle blade. It was twenty-four inches long, straight slightly from the handle before curving outward into a hooked C with a tearing barb at the end. The blade was sharpened on both the outer and inner edges and shone with its own brilliance. The metal resembled bronze, but something about its shine or maybe the color felt … off. “It was this blade that spilt his blood in life. And so I use it to flay him every night in death.”
“And so, you repeat what you did in life, even to this day?”
“Joyfully.” The Gryphon grinned. His beak gleamed as he bore the polished white teeth beneath. “And so be it to any who would disgrace the gods.”
Pensword paled and swallowed heavily. “Yeah, uh, funny you should mention that. It’s been a long time since you left Equis. A lot has changed. And, well, you see, I have a Gryphon friend who … kind of … needs your khopesh? He’s very close to restoring your gods to their rightful place, but he mentioned the need for a khopesh. Something to do with the blood of the enemy?”
The Ibis-headed Gryphon regarded Pensword with a quizzical gaze. After a time of serious scrutiny, he finally spoke. “You know the one our prophets spoke of, then?”
“Yeah, I do. We fought together in war and, in a way, we’ve known each other longer than a single lifetime. If I may, could I ask another question?”
“You may ask,” the Gryphon said. He whistled sharply and a swarm of scarabs the size of german shepherds rushed past them as they scuttled over the sand dunes. “My hunting companions,” he explained. “They will follow the trail. While I hate to let the betrayer gain a lead, this is more important.”
Pensword cleared his throat and did his best to push the horrifying image he’d just witnessed from his mind. “Do you know of where a book that a race we call Alicorns might have hidden in this land? We are trying to recover our lost knowledge that they stole and threw into this world.”
The Gryphon’s face hardened as he rounded on Pensword with a snarl. “‘Our lost knowledge?’ You work for the children of Faust?”
“No,” Pensword said hastily. “For the Ponies. The book contains knowledge of Unicorns, Pegasi, Thestrals, and Earth Ponies. The Alicorn who complied the information tore it into sections and flung it into this world. It is our knowledge because it speaks of our kind from a time that was destroyed by a being of chaos called Discord.” He was especially careful not to mention anything about Luna or Celestia.
“I know not this Discord you speak of, but if the knowledge of you Ponies from my time has been lost, perhaps it is better that way.” He sighed. “Still, I cannot deny a quest for knowledge. But you may regret what you find. The book you seek, I know of, though it was only knowledge of Pegasi, which lends credence to your story. It was a little after my time when a young ruler came into possession of the book. He showed such spirit, such vibrance, such thirst for conquest that he took control of most of Asia before he died. Even now, the book lies with him. I will take you to his resting place.”
Pensword choked on that surprising revelation. “You—you speak of Alexander the Great. Even in the present, my generation learns of him in our schools. His tactics are still used in my nation’s military.” He blushed as he realized he overspake, and decided truth would be the best remedy to the situation. “I … once was a human who, through a strange twist of fate, became and now live as a Pegasus warrior.”
“What a coincidence. I was once a Gryphon, and came here only to live as a god.” The ghost laughed. “I would advise that you be careful about what you see. I have watched this tomb remain a secret for centuries. Many would do terrible things to find it.”
“If I have my way, I will never step hoof into any of the cities of Egypt. I’m here for the quest, not to gab with the locals.” He gulped. “For the sake of full disclosure, I will say that a part of me is excited at the prospect of seeing the embalmed body of Alexander the Great, himself, but I will tell no current human of what I saw.”
“What is your name, Pony?” the Gryphon asked.
“My name, once you strip away titles, ranks, and clan names, is Pensword.”
“Saberswift,” the Gryphon said and pounded his chest. “Thoth Saberswift.”
It took a few moments for Pensword’s brain to reboot. “You said you were treated as a god, but I never suspected…. Your name is still known to the Humans as one of the Egyptian pantheon of gods, except in those interpretations, you worked with Anubis. You didn’t hunt him.”
“And most humans believe that Hades kidnapped and raped Persephone,” Thoth noted. “Honestly, if anything, it was closer to the other way around. Humans have short memories and tend to connect dots where there aren't any or miscommunicate relationships. I taught them mathematics and how to build and they called me a god of knowledge. They saw Anubis’ ghost when dying and praised him as a god of death. Some gods are or were real. Some were just seen as gods.”
“I am learning so much,” Pensword muttered. “In the words of one Teal’c, ‘Indeed.’” He nodded. “In that case, I humbly ask that you lead the way, so I may avoid Anubis and the sands that seek to eat my flesh. I doubt he will take kindly to our efforts to break the Winds’ seal.”
“You have food and water?” Thoth asked.
“I have three days’ water evenly spread in the bottom of my saddlebags, and enough dried food to last four days.”
“Understand then, Pony. I am dead. I cannot interact with this world, save to kick up the wind or displace some sand. I will guide your way, but cannot help you against obstacles or dangers.”
“But you will keep at bay one danger, getting lost. I can handle the others.”
“Then follow me.” Thoth gestured as he began to make his way.
Pensword nodded, wrapped his head gear again, and trotted behind.
“Welcome, Trixie, to New York City,” Conor said as he waved over at the skyscrapers and other buildings that surrounded them. The sound of car horns and general traffic rang through the air. A cool breeze blew through the folds of Trixie’s dress, causing it to billow like Luna or Celestia’s mane. Her white hair flapped behind her like the flags that clattered against the metal poles.
“It’s larger than I imagined,” she noted as she looked around. “Larger than Manehattan.”
“Funny you should mention that. I’ll have to show you Manhattan sometime.”
“Is that a pun?” Trixie asked.
“I asked the same question the first time I heard about Manehattan. You’d be surprised at the parallels between our worlds.” He smiled. “Come on. I think I still have my security clearance in my wallet. Facial recognition should be able to tell it’s me, and I’m sure my staff will be waiting on me.” He groaned and facepalmed. “And I just realized they’ve had months to pick my staff for me. This is going to be a nightmare.”
“Well, at least they’re prepared,” Trixie offered.
“Yes, but they could also be ignorant people with no patience or sense of love and friendship that Equestria needs and prefers. I’m going to have to screen as many as possible before we go back. After I report in. And set up an emergency meeting with the UN. And arrange to get that book for Pensword.” He sighed. “Yeah, this is going to be a lot of business, not so much pleasure.” He smiled gently. “But at least I’ll be able to show you some of the fun parts of the city while we’re here.”
The checkpoints into the UN were heavily guarded, as Conor knew they would be. He approached the desk and motioned to one of the guards. “Could you kindly let whoever is currently in charge that Conor Vulpes is back and would like to arrange his meeting with the various ambassadors of the UN before any incidents occur to make him disappear again? Thank you.”
The Guard raised a brow, and sighed as he moved into another room. Conor and Trixie both noted the sudden increase of guards flocking nearby. They each spoke casually with one another, but the furtive glances and general body language were unmistakable. A few minutes later, the guard returned with a flemuxed expression. “If you’d come with me to a room, I just have a few questions for you. Mind you, trying to impersonate an ambassador or United Nations official does carry penalties.”
“Would you like to see my security clearance? It was rather hastily issued, but I had it on me when I … left.”
The Guard raised a brow. “If you wouldn’t mind showing it. But we do need to ask a clarifying question, something the President felt would show if you’re the real McCoy. Also, who’s the lady?”
“A delegate from Equestria, Miss Trixie Lulamoon,” Conor explained as he removed a pristine laminated card from his wallet and handed it to the guard. “She also happens to be my wife.”
The Guard held the card and frowned, both at the information and that Conor didn’t have the lanyard badge. “This way, please.”
The pair soon stood in an empty room with a blank table and three chairs. When the door had shut, the three took their places, and the guard returned to his narrative.
“Okay, I only have two questions. First, can the Equestrian delegate please show her Equestrian Form? And as for you, how many did you interview for your assistant’s position?”
“You’re asking me about how many I interviewed when you could have just asked me to turn into my Unicorn form?” Conor asked as he raised a curious brow. Then he shrugged. “The answer is none. I had a secretary appointed to me, and I received assistance from Barry, but that’s about it. I don’t even remember the names of the rest of my staff. I only had the one meeting with them before I had to go back to Equestria.”
The Guard nodded. “That fits the profile and answer structure. May we see your Equestrian forms? Just as a formality, of course. Then we’ll get you to your embassy office. It’ll take a day to spread word of your return. An emergency session should be prepared by tomorrow to open the floor for the Equestrian debate.” He shuffled a few of his papers. “And, apparently for simplicity’s sake, I am also going to be your guard for the duration of your stay on UN Property. You should probably expect a call from the president after you settle in. He’ll want a report from you at the earliest possible convenience.”
“Ready to blind them with your radiance, dear?” Vital asked his wife.
“Always.” She grinned.
The room was filled with the light of their change, followed by the appearance of the stallion and the taller Alicorn.
“Trixie here recently ascended to become an Alicorn, much like Twilight. While she has not been granted the title of Princess, she does still wield the power of an Alicorn, and should be treated with the same respect as one might offer to Twilight or the other princesses.”
The guard stroked his chin thoughtfully. “That throws out a few theories around the UN about Alicorns and royal status. And … that only four Alicorns exist. Still, if you would return to human form, we’ll get you to your office.”
“By the way, how long have I been gone? Time between the worlds flows differently, so it’s difficult to keep track,” Conor said after the pair had changed back.
“It is currently April fourteenth, 2016,” the guard replied.
“Good. It’s nice to have a proper point of reference. Let’s get to the office. I’m guessing the next couple of hours are going to be a lot of telling and retelling to various officials. Then, after that, we’re going out to eat in style, Trixie. Tell me, have you ever tried a hibachi grill before?”
Grif landed on the even grassy terrain and took a moment to observe his surroundings before he turned the gem on his bracer and returned to his human self. He wasn’t too worried about encountering other people. If he was where he believed himself to be, it was unlikely, considering how Mongolia was a country with one of the sparsest populations on the planet.
He took a few moments to track the river as far as he could see. For the most part, it ran straight through the area, seemingly with nothing special at all about it. He opened his bag and began to unpack some basic camping supplies: a tent, a sleeping bag, a pot for boiling water, and a few other basic goods. He’d brought a healthy supply of dried deer meat from Equestria, so as long as he had a supply of water, he knew he would be fine for his time here.
Mongolia the country was definitely not where Grif would have expected to find the book hiding, but thanks to Taze’s memories, he had some ideas for just what he was looking for. Several hours passed as Grif made a fire, spread the fresh ashes around the perimeter of his camp, then made a second fire, filled a pot full of stream water and boiled it, adding a few purification tablets in for good measure. When he was sure the water was clean, he filled two canteens and sat down to an early meal. Once he’d eaten, he stowed his supplies back into his bag and sat by the fire concentrating.
He thought of the orb that Hammer Strike, Celestia and Luna had used to track the locations. Trying his best to bring up the thaumic signature the artifact had generated, he concentrated heavily and tuned his thaumic field like a radio looking for a frequency. He wasn’t sure how long he sat there. The world passed him by without either noticing the other. He must have made a strange sight, since he looked nothing like the locals and was sitting out in the middle of nowhere staring into the fire.
After what was likely hours, he managed to find it, a small faint tingle of energy that felt similar to what he had felt in that room. He reached into his bag and pulled out an arrow, then concentrated on that feeling. He willed the arrow to point him in its direction, and channeled some power into it. The arrow felt warm in his hand. After a few moments, he felt a distinct tug. He rose slowly to his feet and began turning, positioning himself in different directions until the pull was strongest. Then he looked ahead and marked the direction, followed by sticking the arrowhead in the ground for good measure.
With that task complete, he released the energy flow immediately and felt the effects of the drain on his thaumic field. He fished out one of Clover’s batteries. In one fluid motion, he pulled the energy from it into his body and felt somewhat better. Tomorrow, he would set out for his hunt. And if taze was right, one of the most famous lost tombs in history awaited him.
The tomb of Temujin.
The late morning sun shone down with golden rays on the base. The fresh scent of dew had long since faded against the onslaught of rising temperatures. A squadron of young privates stood before a firing line with their assault weapons pointing skyward with their butts firmly planted in the dirt.
“All right, gentlemen, you’ve made it past the gauntlet. Congratulations. Your mothers must be so proud,” the rangemaster said as he strode along the dusty earth. “You all know the rules of the range. You know in combat, we shoot to kill. It’s time we test just how well you can kill. My range, my rules. You will prime when I tell you to prime. You will shoot when I tell you to shoot. And you sure as hell had better cease fire when I tell you to cease fire. Any questions?”
A united, “Sir, no, Sir!” burst forth from the unit.
“Good.” The rangemaster strode behind them and surveyed the space one last time. The dummies and targets had been set. It was time to assess the newbies. “Gunners at the ready!”
As one body, the assault weapons rose to their users’ hands.
“Take aim!”
The butts found their resting places against the troop’s shoulders.
“Fire!”
The sharp retorts of the rifles going off rebounded against the base’s walls and found vent in the skies above. However, this was not what drew the sudden call of, “Cease fire!” from the rangemaster’s lips.
No, that would have been caused by the sudden explosion and literal wall of blue flame that engulfed every round that struck it. The sheer heat generated by the barrier was enough to turn the artificially arid range into a proper desert. Cracks spread over the dirt as what little moisture had been there was consumed. As the hot blast of air settled and the wall dissipated, the rangemaster breathed a soft, “my god,” as the sight of a single pale hand ringed by gold trim at the cuffs of its sleeve gave way to reveal a tall muscular form. His breathing came steadily, even as his gaze passed with no small amount of hostility over the soldiers. A slim woman with long black hair and a hairpin with a triple diamond pattern on it clung tightly to the man’s free arm.
“While I would normally humor you in the situation, this time is not the same,” Shawn spoke with a leveled tone.
“Private Barnes!” the rangemaster barked.
“P-present, Sir,” the young man said with wide eyes as he looked back and forth between his superior and the impossibility that had just appeared before him.
“Get Stark. I don’t care what trouble you face along the way. Tell him we’ve got a Code Royal Blue and to get his ass down here ASAP.”
“Y-yes, Sir.”
“Move!”
Private Barnes’ booted feet pounded across the turf as he ran for the main building. The rangemaster took advantage of the moment to approach the figure and his guest, though he made sure to keep a safe distance of approximately two feet.
“Shawn Viginti, I presume?” He pulled off his cap to reveal a sparse amount of black hair that had been buzzed down.
“That would be correct,” Shawn replied as he turned his attention fully toward the rangemaster.
“Sergeant Wilson. Forgive the lack of contact, but I’ve been … advised about the peculiarities of your clothing.”
“It just doesn’t like being separated from me. So long as that doesn’t happen, everything will be fine,” Shawn clarified with a sigh. “Well, Sergeant Wilson, is there something that I have to deal with? Or for a change, will I have an easy day and be allowed to leave?”
“No idea, Sir. That’s for Stark to tell you. I’m just the messenger in this case.”
“As to be expected.” He sighed. “Well, what now? Do we just wait here for him to show up, potentially bring the agents from last time, and continue on from there?”
“Probably. If you’d like, we can take you to a waiting room.”
“That’ll work,” Shawn replied as he held out his arm for Rarity to join him.
“And this is…?” he asked as he gestured to the woman.
“Rarity, my wife.”
“We weren’t aware you were married.”
He shrugged. “I was engaged during my last visit.”
“I see. Then congratulations, I suppose.”
The somewhat spartan office was on a higher scale than the interrogation room where he’d stayed last time. For one, nobody dared check him for weapons. For another, coffee and tea had been provided. Stark tented his fingers as he looked over the pair, took a deep breath, and let out a longsuffering sigh. “So, how long are you two going to be staying this time, and how often should we expect you to keep appearing in the middle of a live firing range?”
“As little as four days, as much as a week.” Shawn shrugged. “It’s a little … unstable, for how we get here. As for appearing on the range, I have no idea. Our location should have been different this time, but we ended up in the same place.”
“I see.” Stark leaned back in his chair and smacked his boots on his desk. “Welp, that about covers the niceties. Pretty much, I’m supposed to keep you ‘in custody’ until your escort arrives to check up with you. You know, they’re forming a whole new department in national defense, thanks to you.”
“I’m honored.” Shawn rolled his eyes.
“And I am very much confused,” Rarity said. “For a military colt, excuse me, man, you seem surprisingly laid back.”
Stark shrugged. “One, it’s my office, so I’m free to take certain liberties and drop my namesake at the door for a while. Two, my men tend to feel more comfortable with me like this than when I pull rank. If the situation calls for it, this part of me goes bye-bye, and I’m all business. That, and there’s the fact that any act of aggression could easily trigger a less than pleasant reaction from that coat. By the way, you still owe us for all those weapons it stole.”
“I stole weapons?” Shawn questioned.
“It did. Your coat. I’d rather not list all them right now, but I’m fairly certain you remember. It also traumatized many of my soldiers.”
“I remember a 1911, but I swear I handed that over to an agent.” He hummed for a moment as he reached into his coat pocket. After a moment he pulled out said 1911 once again. He frowned for a moment before placing it on the table for Stark to take.
“... I guess it’s a start. Though you could’ve just paid us back for the expense.” Stark picked the weapon up and laid it carefully against the wall behind him.
Shawn shrugged as he reached once more into his coat and pulled out a small pouch. “Think this will cover it?” he asked as he placed the bag on the table.
He looked inside the bag and withdrew one coin. “That should more than cover it.”
Shawn motioned to the bag. “You’ll probably want to take a second, just to ensure you cover everything.”
“Are you saying you plan to take more?”
“I’m not,” he clarified. “But considering last time, I’m unsure as to what my coat will take.”
Stark grunted. “Fair point. All right, one more coin, then.”
There was a knock at the door of the room. When Stark called his permission to enter, the doorframe opened to reveal a large African American man wearing a black suit, tie, and sunglasses. He held up his badge. “Agent bubbles. I’ve been sent to take charge of the situation.” His deep bass seemed to rumble around the room as he spoke.
“I’m already aware, Agent Bubbles. Protocol told us to expect your arrival. Mister Viginti is unharmed and quite well, as you can see,” Stark said as he waved a hand at the pair.
A smaller woman with a plain expression and fiery red hair shouldered her way past the agent to finally get a proper view of the room. “You could’ve left a little room for me, Bubbles,” she said. Then her gaze locked onto Rarity. “And who do we have here?”
“This,” Shawn spoke up, “would be my wife, Rarity.”
“A complication.” Bubbles sighed.
“You brought an Equestrian here without the proper paperwork?” The woman groaned. “Do you have any idea how difficult it is to arrange for passports and diplomatic records as it is?”
Rarity rose from her chair. “I do apologize for the inconvenience, but I swore I wouldn’t let my husband leave on another adventure like this without proper accompaniment. He has a nasty habit of disappearing without telling me, and coming back after several years of his own time being spent elsewhere and when. Surely, you can understand that protective desire a wife has for her husband, Miss…?”
“Scully. Agent Scully.” Scully groaned and shook her head. Then she rested her gaze on Shawn. “You realize we’ll have to test her for foreign pathogens, the same we did with you, right?”
“So long as the tests don’t go too far, it should be fine. I have business that I need to cover with you two and some higher-ups as well,” Shawn replied as he took the bag of bits once more and offered it to one of the agents.
“More gold from this … Equestria?” Bubbles raised an eyebrow.
“Yes, but from what I remembered last time, the purest sample of gold you have is ninety-nine point nine nine, etcetera, percent pure. That right there should be the purest sample you’ll ever come across, being naturally, one hundred percent,” Shawn explained.
“As we found when we tested the bits that were sold by a family in George Park, Colorado. The buyer brought them to our attention after testing their purity. He was worried he was being scammed.” Bubbles held up a coin curiously.
“I am in need of an object, specifically an artifact that was sent here to Earth from Equestria.” Shawn frowned. “I need that object back, and I will offer more bits of this purity to obtain it.”
“I’m afraid we cannot allow you to disperse any more bits to the general public. We’ve been instructed to offer you a large cash retainer to assure these make it to government hands, so they will be transferred to the government gold stockpile.”
“I never planned on putting this out into the general public; hence why I handed it to you,” Shawn replied with a shrug.
“If you describe the object in question to Agent Scully, she’ll get to work immediately on locating it. If you’d follow her to the car outside, I have to make sure the footage of this interaction is properly destroyed, as per protocol.”
“I’ve already got a location, so your job is simpler there,” Shawn said as he took his wife’s arm and the two approached the door.
“Oh? Then where to?” Scully asked.
“The Smithsonian Museum. I can describe it later.”
“Your quarters have already been arranged. You’ll both be staying at The Jefferson,” Scully explained. “As an added precaution, you’ll both have a set of discrete guards to keep an eye on you and protect you in the event of any trouble.”
“Where is that, exactly?”
“Near the National Geographic Museum.”
“Think we can make a stop beforehand?”
“That depends on where you want to go, and for what reason,” Scully said.
“Brief visit to family, since I kinda promised Rarity I’d introduce her,” Shawn reasoned.
“It takes us out of the way, but there’s no immediate rush to get you to your hotel either, so I suppose it’s possible,” Scully mused. “Bubbles? What do you say?”
“Take them to the car, then call the agency to sweep the area before we get there.” Bubbles cracked his knuckles. “I’ll take care of the footage.” He removed his sunglasses, revealing his wide dark eyes. “And erasing the memories”.
A few soldiers laughed, but for the most part the room became awkwardly silent as few seemed able to tell if he was joking.
Thoth pressed onward, guiding Pensword to a variety of crevices and dunes that would provide shelter from the sun.
“The desert is harsh and unforgiving.Things will go better for you if we stay here as much as we can,” Thoth said.
“I am happy to hear that. How far away is the tomb? I want to set a proper pace,” Pensword responded.
“If everything goes well, it should take about half a day’s journey at a reasonable pace.”
“Thank you.” Pensword lapsed into silence. It was better to conserve what liquid he could, given the desert’s ability to absorb moisture at such a rapid rate. Instead, he dedicated his time to locating any potential dangers, such as snakes, scorpions, etc.
“You’re not likely to encounter anything in here that will attack you,” Thoth noted. “You don’t smell human, and you’re much bigger than they are.”
Pensword relaxed at the words, but still watched where he walked to maintain proper footing. “Thank you for that information.”
“How is the state of Equis?” Thoth asked. The confidence in his voice had been replaced by tension.
“In what way? Empires have fallen and kingdoms have risen. The world has seen wars and peace alike. That tends to happen when you’ve been out of touch for millennia.”
“And my people?”
Pensword was silent for a while. “They hurt from having lost their contact with the Winds. From what Grif told me, the Winds’ children are helping where they can, but much of your people’s glory has faded into history and legend.”
“As I feared.” Thoth sighed.
“I’m sorry,” Pensword spoke, and surprised himself when he discovered he actually meant it.
“It’s not yours to be sorry for. Sleipnir gifted us with a warrior’s spirit, and Faust abandoned us for our warlike ways. Now we exist only to be dependent on our gods to keep us from destroying ourselves.”
“I have seen that at times, but if the Winds return, you’ll become tempered. Is that not so?”
“Their laws were strict, but under them, we thrived.” Thoth nodded. “They gave us meaning.”
Pensword nodded. “What did you view my kind as during life?” he finally asked. “And what will you do when the end of time happens?”
“When I was alive, your people were little more than random tribal families. You had no unified language and had only just begun to understand the true uses of fire and magic. You were treated as cattle by the Children of Faust, and you were not requiring of our notice.”
Pensword shivered at that news. Could this have been the origin for Gryphons’ views of Ponies as prey? Could the loss of their gods’ enforcement paired with this mindset led to the countless slaughters? “I suppose I should say I am glad, then. My people, they got to thrive after the Children of Faust stopped messing with us.”
“If you are any indication, then it seems the least has become the greatest.” The old Gryphon chuckled.
“It does seem that way.” Silence resumed for another half hour before Pensword worked up the nerve to ask a question that had bothered him since the pair first met. “You sure seem eager to get this book out of the tomb. I can’t help but wonder why. And why give it to a Pegasus in the first place?”
“One human used its influence to conquer so much of the world that his empire influences culture to this day. He was a mostly benevolent warlord. Many years later, I watched as several legions attacked the world bearing the red and black standard. Their leader sent them all over Egypt to claim relics of the past. Tell me, Pony, what might have happened, had he gained the book’s influence for himself?”
Pensword stumbled as he finally made the historical connection, and his face paled. “I don’t want to think about it. Too vivid an imagination.”.
Thoth nodded. “These humans are capable of great light and great darkness, much like any race. But even when the veil was thin, their magic was weak, and as a side effect, they never truly understood it. The book is old magic, and therefore more powerful and more chaotic than other such enchanted objects. These humans clearly are not ready for it, and I feel that if you truly seek to remove it from here, it would be for the best.”
“Ah. And the Khopesh? Do I have your permission to bring the actual weapon to the Gryphon?”
“If he can truly bring the gods back to my people, then he may have it with my blessing.” Thoth nodded. “There would be nothing better for my people.”
“Understood. Thank you for giving me permission for the two items. I would rather not incur the wrath of others.”
“There are few others to incur wrath from. Most humans are incapable of becoming ghosts.”
“They move on quickly, then?”
“They are not born with magic in their soul, such as we are. They are not created from Faust. Some manage to leave a scar when they pass, but few can truly exist beyond their graves here.”
Pensword hummed and left it at that. Now was not the time to debate, and he didn’t want to explain his sight, regardless.
“And that’s about the long of the short of it, Mister President,” Conor explained as he leaned back in his roller chair. “I’m still fully capable of functioning as ambassador, but we need to have this meeting with the UN as soon as possible. We have a minimum of three days, a maximum of five, if we’re lucky. If I’m to address the nations of the world about Equestria and the desires of the government of said kingdom, it has to be sooner, rather than later.” Conor nodded as he listened. “Thank you. I’ll make sure to be ready.” He hung up the phone and sighed. “Well, I’m glad that’s over.” He smiled tiredly at his wife, who had changed into a more reserved skirt and blouse that complimented her pale skin tone and helped to emphasize the long white hair that framed her face.
“You handled yourself well. Clover would be proud, I’m sure,” Trixie offered.
“Just don’t let her hear you say that.” He chuckled. “You remember what she did last time I dared to make such a speculation?”
“She just likes to hide it.” Trixie laughed. Despite her attitude, Vital could see the fatigue on her face from the magic draining nature of Earth.
He frowned and rose from his chair to hold her in his arms. “You holding up okay?”
“It’s more stressful than I thought, but I’ll be fine,” she promised.
“Don’t overexert yourself, okay? If you need a boost, let me know.” He kissed her gently on the head. “It’s what I’m here for, after all. You’re my wife, and I’m never letting you go.”
“I’m fine. My capacity is more than double yours, after all.”
“Yes, but I have something that sustains mine and reduces the drain. You don’t.”
“I’ll be fine,” she insisted.
Conor sighed. “Fine. But I’m still keeping an eye on you till we get back to Equestria again.”
“Same to you.” She smirked.
The telephone went off again, and Conor put it on speaker. “Hello?”
“Sorry to bother you, Sir, but you have a rather urgent call on line three.”
“Who from, the President again?”
“No, Sir. Your mother.”
Conor gulped. “Oh, crap.”
“Should I tell her you’re busy, Sir?”
Conor shook his head. “No, no. I’ll take the call. I’m sure we’ve both got some important things to say.” He chuckled weakly as the line went silent in preparation for the connection. “Ready for your first interaction with the in-laws, Trixie?”
“Is anybody?”
“Touche.” Then he pressed the glowing red button.
Back in Equestria, a swift smart knock rapped on a door of one of the uniform houses in the Bladefeather compound. Despite being common, every Gryphon and more than a few of the Ponies who frequented the area knew who lived here, so there was no chance of a mistake. Still, Grif was away, and most, if not everyone, knew this. So who could be knocking at their door?
The door opened to reveal the penetrating eyes and mischievous grin of a harrier hawk’s beak rimmed by lynx whiskers. “Hello?” The familiar shape of a black Earth Pony with a tower for his cutie mark stood before her. “Well well. Come back to challenge me to another chess match, little doormouse?”
Black rook grinned. “Actually, I’m here to talk to the ladies of the house, as per Hammer Strike’s request.” Then he winked.
“Oh, it’s about that old thing, is it? I suppose I can see about rounding them up. My little hatter should be able to keep the other cubs entertained long enough for you to conduct your ‘business.’” She smirked at him. “Good luck,” she sang as she backed into the shadows and disappeared, leaving little more than an echo in her wake.
Rook chuckled as he let himself into the front room and shut the door. He waited patiently until someone came to get him.
“Hey there, Rook,” Gilda said tiredly as she descended the stairs and flopped onto a couch. Avalon and Shrial were swift to follow, albeit more gracefully as they took their own chairs. “What’s up?”
“I’ve been sent by Lord Hammer Strike, your own council of elders, and the several important members of this clan to deal with the problem at hand,” Rook told them with a straight face. “The problem with your husband.”
“What?” Gilda bolted upright at the claim, then winced and grabbed her belly.
Shrial put a staying hand on the young Gryphoness and laid her gently back onto the couch again. “Give him time to explain, Gilda. He’s very good at that, usually.” She smirked. “And he knows what happens to people who speak ill of Grif behind his back, so this clearly must be serious.”
“I have an inkling,” Avalon admitted. “There have been a few too many Gryphons eyeing our home lately for mere coincidence.” She fingered through one of her many new tomes to scan its contents, maintaining the image of poise she had been trained to hold for most of her life. “Just what’s going on, Rook?”
“It’s a pretty well known fact by now that these houses only have so many rooms, and that your family is already using most of them. At least a few of you have made your intentions to keep expanding clear.” Rook winked at Avalon. “Despite numerous attempts to convince him, your husband has absolutely refused to consider getting a larger place. Several Gryphons have told him he should. He has used the excuse that his take of the bits wouldn’t afford building a larger one.
“The council has apparently tried in no small amount of ways to attempt to partition money to build a larger house for you, and he has refused to take any such offering, quoting, ‘taking money to do this would create want somewhere else. I won’t do that.’ And despite several well-dropped hints, he wouldn’t use Hammer Strike’s money or even the town’s own building resources to do so. So, a few months ago, not long after the announcement of your next expectant children, Hammer Strike met with your elders, and they worked out a plan. Today, I am here to announce that it’s moved on to the final phase.”
“Which is?” Shrial asked.
“Your husband has given his oath to Hammer Strike, an oath to discharge any and all duties assigned to him without argument. Is this not correct?”
“Yes. Despite his technical independence as the head of the clan, he is still a direct subordinate to Hammer Strike, until such time as his lord should release him.” Shrial narrowed her gaze in suspicion. “All right, Rook. Just what scheme have they come up with to get Grif to go along with an expansion? Are you saying Hammer Strike is going to order him to build a bigger home?”
“Hammer Strike has recently begun construction on the emergency supplies cache for New Unitiy’s future expansion, a little more than four hundred feet from the compound’s official border. Built into the cliff face is the building that marks the entrance into this cache, a large house with all the necessary facilities to allow for a particularly large family to live quite comfortably. This is an official assignment from Hammer Strike assigning Grif Bladefeather to guard this stockpile and, should the need arise, distribute it to the public. As such, it is important that Grif, and therefore your entire family, live at the site.” Rook set a scroll down in front of the Gryphoness.
Shrial skimmed over the document, then passed it off to Avalon. “It has potential, but it still would require Grif being willing to take on the extra responsibility. He’ll do what he’s ordered, but if he can’t handle it, he’s going to let Hammer Strike know. Then again, I suppose you took that into account, considering how natural resources seem to follow Hammer Strike like a pack of lost puppies. Surpluses will likely never run dry around here.”
“All his duties require is that he checks the supplies are in order every couple of weeks and see that it’s defended.” Rook smiled. “It’s easy enough, just a matter of trust. This is one of the larger caches around the area.”
“There are others? And who will be running those?”
“Hammer Strike wouldn’t put his eggs in one basket, even with Grif standing over it growling,” Rook noted.
“We can’t speak for Grif. You realize that,” Shrial noted.
“But we can at least help to break the news,” Avalon pointed out. “And it would be close enough for when Gilda gives birth to prevent any complications for the delivery.”
“So we’re basically moving to a neighborhood on the edge of town?” Gilda asked. Then she shrugged. “I’ve roughed it in the woods before. Working an outpost won’t be that different. But you’re crazy if you think Grif isn’t going to get back at Hammer Strike for this later.”
“Oh, Hammer Strike expects it. Still, I would think about starting to sort things out, if I were you.” He winked.
“And we’re supposed to be the ones who break the news?” Avalon surmised as Snowy alighted on her shoulder with an inquiring hoot.
“No, but Hammer Strike wanted to let you know while Grif’s away, so you could get used to the idea and also start making necessary preparations for moving.”
“”How long do we have?”
“Two weeks.”
“And how many people are already aware of this ‘reassignment?’”
“Not many.”
“And I assume Grif will need to make an announcement to the rest of the clan when he returns?”
Rook nodded. “I would assume.”
Gilda sighed. “I guess we’d better see about getting things ready then, huh?” She looked between her fellow pridemates. “So, I’m guessing I’m on cub duty again?”
“As if we’d let you do anything else with how far along you’re getting,” Avalon teased.
“Welcome to our world, Gilda. This part of the pregnancy is always the most frustrating.” Shrial smirked as she patted Gilda on the head. Gilda hissed in response and batted at Shrial’s talons.
“Yup, she’s definitely at that stage,” Avalon agreed sagely.
Snowy nodded. “Who.”
Rarity stared out over the house as they emerged from the secret service vehicles. The townhouse was tall and overshadowed by a series of sloped blue roof tiles. Pale white paint along the walls had been bleached by the sun, granting it a yellow tint. The windows were modern, with glass panes that had been designed for curb appeal and protection against the elements.
“You know, in a way, it almost reminds me of the boutique,” Rarity noted. “I wonder, could that be one of the reasons you kept coming back?”
Shawn simply shrugged in response. “I honestly never fully took notice over it.”
“The similarity or simply because you had something else keeping your attention?” she flirted as she pecked him on the cheek.
“I wonder.” He chuckled as he approached the front door and knocked lightly.
The door opened to reveal a pouting woman with red hair streaming freely down to her shoulders. Her hands rested against her waist as she peered at the pair. “Well, it’s about time. We were wondering if you’d ever get back here again, young man.” She smiled and turned to Rarity. “Mary Viginti. And you are?”
“Rarity. Rarity … Viginti. I’m your son’s wife.”
Mary’s smile broadened into a grin. “Well, it’s about time!” She embraced the girl with a fierce hug. “I’ve been wanting to know the woman who caught my son’s attention so closely. Or would that be Pony?”
“I believe both apply in this circumstance,” Rarity said with a nervous smile.
“Well then, it seems we have some catching up to do. Your father’s in the kitchen. We were just about to have some lunch.”
“I did say that I had no idea of when I’d be back,” Shawn commented briefly. “Hopefully it hasn’t been that long?”
“Nearly a year,” she said flatly.
“Well, better than I was expecting.” Shawn rubbed the back of his head as Rarity followed Mary inside. “Time differences between the worlds are at least becoming more stable, it seems, and less drastic.” He closed the door behind them, then followed into the kitchen.
“And this must be Hans,” Rarity gushed in her most flattering voice. “I definitely can see the resemblance.”
Mary quickly caught Hans up to speed, and the man smiled. “A pleasure to meet you Rarity. Had we known you two were stopping by, we’d have made more.” He rubbed the back of his head as his smile turned sheepish.
“I’m afraid we’ll have to keep arriving like this on visits, until a means of proper communication can be found.” She sighed. “Pardon me, but could I possibly have a glass of water? The trip has been relatively normal for us, but I am rather thirsty.”
“Of course.” Hans reached into one of the cabinets and pulled out a glass before pulling out a water filter from the fridge and pouring the beverage for her.
“Thank you. Shawn told me that you and his uncle were a large influence in his talents on Equestria.”
“Really now?” Hans looked over to Shawn. “Broadening your horizons and making different things?”
“For the most part. Some smithing, painting, and minor work in a task that I’ve been keeping secret.”
“He’s very good at that last one,” Rarity said with a smirk.
“Yeah, he’s always had a lot going through that head of his,” Hans replied with a knowing smile.
“Keeps me active,” Shawn defended as he rubbed the back of his neck.
“I always did tell him he needed to find someone to help him with that. I’m just glad I finally got to meet the girl who did.” Mary smirked. “So, I’m guessing you’d prefer a salad, Rarity?”
“I certainly wouldn’t object,” Rarity agreed with a polite smile.
“Then give me a few minutes. I’ll whip up a masterpiece for two, we can all catch up about both worlds, and I’ll get to embarrass my son to his face by sharing all his childhood memories with you.” She winked mischievously.
Rarity laughed. “Somehow, I doubt it’s so bad as it sounds.”
Mary’s answering grin was devious. “Try me.”
Pensword looked out on the sky as he put away the first of his supply of Clover’s batteries. One down, three to go. The moon was rising, and the stars were almost as resplendent as the skies back on Equis. A particularly prominent band in the Milky Way was passing overhead just now. “It is beautiful out here,” he muttered as he settled in for the night. The air was turning cold, and while he wouldn’t mind starting a fire, he didn’t want to draw attention to himself. The trip had taken longer than expected, in part because of Thoth’s caution and in part because he had miscalculated on the speed at which Pensword would be able to navigate the sands, but they would reach their destination soon enough.
Out here, there could be anything from treasure hunters to military patrols to nocturnal predators. He didn’t want to contend with any of those things, so he wrapped himself up with his only blanket from his saddlebag and bedded down for a quick nap. Night time was the optimal time to move, but according to Thoth, it was better if they traveled in the sun. Ghosts often had more power by night, and while Anubis was not a significant threat, he could delay them if he found out what they had planned. Thoth didn’t want to give Anubis the chance to ponder over the break he’d been given, and without the guide, Pensword had little means of continuing his journey with any degree of confidence.
He woke at false dawn and shivered as he folded the blanket and returned it to his pack. The shadows were long and deep now. Thoth would likely return at any moment. He pulled out some dried meat for his breakfast as he fixed his gaze on the horizon. Soon, the pilgrimage would begin again. Alexander the Great awaited.
“So, yeah, like I said before, my house is kind of out in the suburbs. In a way, the town we have is a lot like Ponyville, just more modern,” Conor explained as the car took its final exit off the highway and wove its way through a series of backroads to reach their final destination. The house was the same as it had been before, with a series of sharp slopes on the rooftop and dark shingles to compliment the lighter coloration of the paint along the siding of the building’s walls. A wavy driveway led up to a broad garage entrance. Two cars sat out in the sun next to said door. A brick walkway led up to a new set of stone steps with metal railings and a newly painted front porch, complete with a bright red door that seemed almost to glow in welcome. “Ready to meet the folks for real this time?”
“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Trixie said, though her eyes darted nervously.
“Trust me, they’ll treat you just fine. After all, I’m an excellent judge of character. They know I wouldn’t marry someone who wasn’t a good match for me, even if you did sort of hold me hundreds of feet above the air when you proposed. Some might call that coercion, you know,” he said with a smirk as he kissed her on the cheek.
“I wouldn’t have dropped you,” Trixie said.
“I know. But a husband does have the privilege of teasing his wife every once in a while, doesn’t he?”
She rolled her eyes. “Let's just get through this.”
“The door? Certainly.” He grinned as he unbuckled his seatbelt.
One of their guards quickly opened the car door and offered a hand to assist them from the vehicle. It didn’t take that long for Conor’s mother to leave the house with a barking dog rushing in to yap at the figures. He laughed and picked up the dog after she’d gotten to smell his hand. “How’re you doing, girl?” he asked. Then he walked over and hugged the stout woman. “Mom, allow me to introduce Trixie. Trixie, my mother.” He smiled as he motioned over to his wife. This time Trixie wore a sky-blue sundress that brought out the purple in her eyes. Her white hair shone like a halo with the sun’s light overhead.
“You can call me Liza, if you like, or whatever makes you comfortable.” Liza smiled and extended a welcoming arm. “Please, come in. Come in.” She smiled at the security guards. “You all, too. We’ve got enough for everyone. You’re just in time for lunch.”
Trixie said nothing as she took the hand, clearly a little overwhelmed by everything.
The entry hall was wide and open with a broad window that streamed light onto the second floor landing above. A ceiling fan spun repeatedly in midair to cycle the cool air that streamed from a series of vents that had been installed throughout the house. A tile hallway led into the small breakfast nook that had been converted into a dining room, where a new polished table and chairs had replaced the old ones Conor recalled from his childhood.
“I see you’ve been making use of some of the funds I left you,” Conor noted idly as he led his wife to the chair, where a large bowl filled with broccoli, bamboo shoots, onions, carrots, baby corn, chestnuts, chicken, and other items all tossed and cooked in a sauce carried the scents of the various spices and sugars that had been used. A fluffy bowl of white rice sat next to it.
“We made your favorite,” Liza said with a smile.
“Mom, I know I haven’t said this nearly enough lately, what with being on another world for so long, but I love you so much.”
Liza chuckled. “And we love you, too. Now how about we all sit down and get to eating?”
A brief prayer was uttered by Conor’s father, and the service began.
“So, Trixie, you said you were a magician back home. What sorts of illusions did you specialize in?” Liza asked.
“Oh, oh! Well, you know the old standbys. Disappearing, card tricks, making a rope dance like a cobra.” She chuckled.
“Along with teleportation, body swapping, transmutation, levitation, and others,” Conor added. “I already told you they know magic is real, Trixie. You don’t need to pretend you only do the basics.”
“Sorry,” she said sheepishly.
“And she can make the best fireworks this world has ever seen, without all the fuss of the gunpowder and dyes,” Conor added.
“Is that so?” Mister Vulpes asked as he raised a curious brow. “I’d love to see some of that.”
“Not the best idea, Dad. I’ve got a field that makes it so the drain on magic isn’t so bad here with me. Trixie doesn’t have that benefit, and Earth seems to suck more magic than it gives.”
“Is she going to be all right?” Liza asked as she looked to Trixie and handed her a steaming bowl of the stir fry.
“Given her recent ascension to what some might equate to becoming a demigoddess, I’m pretty sure she will be. She’ll just be a little weak for a while. And apparently much more shy than she normally is with me when we’re alone,” he teased.
“Thank you for your concern,” Trixie said calmly as she ignored Vital’s comment.
“So, what do you think of the Chinese food, honey?” Vital asked.
“It’s certainly … different,” Trixie said politely as possible.
“Yeah, that was my reaction, too.” Conor sighed. “It’s just how things are here on Earth. I think it has to do with the lack of mana. Things just don’t taste so alive here.”
Trixie nodded as she ate carefully.
“One of these days, you’re going to have to bring something here from Equestria, so we can compare,” Liza said.
“Along with some grandchildren, I’m guessing?”
“You know I don’t push about that sort of thing, Conor. I expect you two to take things at your own pace.”
“By the way, Mom, I’m stealing your recipe file. I have a few more romantic meals and experiments I want to be able to try with Trixie when we get back to Equestria again.”
Liza shrugged. “We can get them copied.” She turned back to Trixie. “Now Trixie, I have to ask, what got you started into show business in the first place? That’s a pretty daring choice to make, especially in a land where magic is so commonplace, isn’t it?”
Trixie carefully searched around some hidden pockets in her dress and smiled as she pulled out an apple. “Here.” She offered it to Liza.
“Is that…?” Conor asked.
Trixie nodded.
“Well, I guess you get to try Equestrian food after all, Mom. And better yet, it’s from the Apples’ orchards. I can guarantee that’s going to be one of the best apples you and Dad have ever had, bar none.”
“I’ll be the judge of that,” Mister Vulpes said in a playful, albeit nasally tone. They quickly pulled out an apple cutter from the variety of kitchenware and segmented the fruit, being careful to keep the seeds in the core.
The two adults came out of their food trance one minute later to a concerned son snapping his fingers in front of their faces. Trixie’s timid smile widened slightly as a hint of mirth softened her features.
“I take it you liked it?” she asked.
“How on Earth can something taste that good?’ Mister Vulpes demanded.
“Simple; it can’t. Or are you forgetting it came from Equis?” Conor teased.
“You know, we still can ground you,” Liza said with a smirk.
“You wound me, madam, after everything I’ve been through,” Conor said in a dramatic and exceptionally cheesy British accent.
“Though I’m curious. You said English wasn’t their native language. How is Trixie speaking and understanding us so well now, if that’s the case?” Mister Vulpes asked.
“That would be the function of her second ring,” Conor noted. “It’s engraved with runes designed to aid in actively translating sounds into Equish and vice versa. Magical engineers designed it, but Shawn was the one who managed to miniaturize the initial design.”
Trixie removed the ring and spoke a little of what sounded similar to feral horse sounds.
“By the way, we definitely have to test that with the local equine population here. It’ll be interesting if it turns out they really can speak a language that we understand.”
Liza shrugged. “If Noah could talk to the animals, why can’t we someday?”
Trixie shrugged as she slid the ring back on.
“Well, that was enlightening. So, what do we do next? Play board games, watch a movie, read a book?”
“No books!” Conor said adamantly. “I’ve had enough of a headache dealing with all the manuals I’ve had to skim just to pull off my speech tomorrow.”
“Then how about we introduce your wife to Settlers of Catan?”
Conor’s eyes lit up. “Now you’re speaking my language!”
Rarity cocked her head as she looked over the historical section portraying the life of Al Capone. She crossed her legs and swiped over the screen on the i-pad that had been provided for her personal use during the flight to the capital. The cabin was well built with large chairs that folded out into comfortable beds, a fully stocked bar, and a professional chef ready and willing to prepare any meal the guests should desire. “Well, I’ll say one thing. This gangster certainly had style. I could do better with materials and weave, but the design does seem to suit his face and build rather well.” A navy dress swept down her frame, and she smiled as the light streaming through the plane window caught on her translation band. “Perhaps I can make use of this at some point in the future. There are always higher-ups looking for designs that make a statement.”
“Certainly one way to go about it,” Shawn replied with a shrug. “Different world, different fashion.”
“But ones with such incredible possibility! Oh, how I wish I could consult with some of the designers here. The things that we could create together would be positively fabulous.” She sighed dreamily as she tapped the stencil against the screen to close the browser and opened a sketching app. “Maybe I’ll indulge in one or two now, just for the sake of getting warmed up. There’s so much more to see in that museum. I’m certain I’ll be positively fit to burst with inspiration when we get home again.”
“It’ll certainly be great for business.” He chuckled in response. After a moment, he stretched his legs and sighed. “I was never too fond of planes. Always feels too small.”
“Even in a cabin this spacious?”
“May be spacious in terms of area, but not height.”
Rarity chewed at the edge of her stylus, then tapped it against her chin in thought. “A fair point. Have you tried lying down? That might help.”
“I’m all right with the sit. It’s not like we’ll be here long enough for me to really care about the comfort, anyway.”
“Just how quickly does a hypersonic jet travel?”
“Much faster than a train. I can assure you of that.”
“Faster than Rainbow Dash’s rainboom?”
“Depending on the transport, easily.”
“Goodness! That really is something. And the fuel that makes it run. You said it came from within the planet itself?”
“For the most part. I’d have to check everything again, as it’s been ages since I’ve looked through refining processes and what fuel is used where.”
“Amazing, though I suppose this is still rather inefficient when compared to Gryphon designs. Their airships are alive in a way, and they don’t require a person to fill them again and again with all these substances.”
“True enough, but this world lacks magic, so it’s impressive in the fact alone.”
“True. If even half of these inventions made it back to Equestria, whoever controlled them could probably form quite the empire,” she mused, then smirked. “At least until they came up against you.”
“I’m sure you’re beginning to notice why I never recreated anything from this world, even if it was for myself.”
“Granted, a magical means could have been identified to neutralize the threat, but given the speed at which these creations can operate, it’s feasible they would still succeed, simply based on the idea of a preemptive strike alone. Shield magic is a difficult art to master, after all. And even then, a sufficiently strong one can take time to conjure, unless it’s your special talent.”
“And that doesn’t even cover the rest of the world,” Shawn replied as he leaned back slightly. “Without magic, this world adapted by technology, and boy, did it progress quickly.”
“Perhaps you might be able to find out why your world is like this one day. You did say there are references to magic existing here once, after all. And it would be an interesting side project, if you happen to find the spare time next time we visit.”
“Perhaps.” He rubbed his chin in thought. Perhaps.”
“Attention, passengers. This is your captain speaking. We’re approaching our destination, so if you could please bring your seats to a fully upright position, stow your trays, secure your valuables, and buckle your seatbelts, we’ll begin our descent shortly.”
“My, that was quick.” Rarity stowed the device and followed the instructions. “Maybe I’ll keep from mentioning this part of the trip to Rainbow Dash. I’d rather not hurt her feelings.”
“She could take it as a challenge to get faster,” Shawn offered with a shrug.
“But this fast? Do you really want to risk that kind of collateral damage?”
“I mean, it wouldn’t be in my land.” He shrugged as the plane touched down on the runway. The first leg of their journey was over.
Once again, Pensword trudged through the dunes with only his headgear to shield him from the sun. He and Thoth traversed through a hidden crevice for a brief rest, then resumed the journey toward the bluff. The sun had risen high into the sky when they crested a final sand dune and reached a crag in the wall that was the cliff face.
“Through here,” Thoth said.
Pensword balked. “You expect me to pass through that? It’s barely wide enough for a wing.”
“And you claim to be a friend to Gryphons.” Thoth sighed and shook his head. “Did not the Avatar explain to you about our skills and culture?” He pointed to a rock at the base of the crevice. “The one you call Alexander was cunning. He would have made sure to make his tomb difficult to access. Stretch your wing in the crag. You will find what you need there.”
Pensword did as instructed. His wing jiggled and rustled as its feathers brushed over the surface within. “I don’t—” His eyes widened. “Got it!” A loud clank sounded, followed by a shower of sand and dust. Pensword shook the sand out of his fur, then ascended to the source of the disturbance. A smirking Thoth greeted him.
“You will need to push, of course. The passage is old, but still passable, especially to a small Pony.”
Pensword rolled his eyes, then pushed. “Thank the moon for military training,” he said between grunts. The slab was stubborn. It grated against the sand that had collected beneath its hinges, but the Pegasus finally managed to get through. He absently noted the hint of a bore hole that likely once held a rope or some other device. His blue fur and silver mane were dulled into a steely gray and muddy black matted with his sweat.
The passage was carefully carved in a semicircle. He could just make out the chisel marks in the entryway before he dove in. His ears swiveled as his hooves clattered over the smooth floor. The sounds that reverberated made it easy for him to escape any sections of the passage that had degraded and could trip him. After a good five minutes of travel in the dark, Pensword emerged into the blazing sun and gaped at the sight that greeted him.
A series of expertly carved stone steps led deep into a shadowed valley, each engraved with a series of etchings that could be traced from a variety of cultures: Greek, Egyptian, and a curving script that looked eerily similar to Arabic. The historian in him wished to remain and study the structure, but the soldier knew there was a higher priority. The sun had only just passed high noon, allowing the light to stream through and illuminate the valley floor far below.
“It’s amusing to think the humans never found this place,” Thoth stated. Then he chuckled. “I do so love when a good illusion fulfills its obligations.”
“And what of the tomb?”
“Follow the trail, of course. Only one rests here. Even among their god kings, Alexander was legendary.”
“Give me a moment.” Pensword reached into his saddlebag and removed one of the batteries Clover had provided.
“A magic vessel? Curious. Magic was siphoned from this world long ago. What allows this one to remain unaltered?”
“That is something I have yet to understand, myself. I’m still early on in my training over the techniques involved.” He reached out with his magic and connected to the power. A low breeze ruffled his feathers and helped to dry some of the sweat as the exhaustion eased. Pensword smiled as he put the spent cartridge away. “Much better.”
“And what happens, should your reserves of magic fail?”
“I’d rather not find out.” With nothing more to say, Pensword began his descent. It took him another hour to reach his final destination at the upper portion of the valley. The cliff face had been carved and widened into a pair of large stone doors sealed with crumbling plaster that had long since lost its definition. Any signs of a crest or kartouche were not to be seen. A great colonnade stretched on either side of the entrance, engraved with the reeds of the nile, the images of mighty battle, and sacred effigies like the animal-headed gods of the ancient pantheons and the legendary sun disc wielded by the ancient ruler of the Egyptian pantheon long ago. Worn reliefs portrayed scenes of battle and diplomacy, court hearings, and other such scenes befitting a mighty king and warrior. Two great lion statues stood guard on either side of the portals. Even in their weathered state, their eyes seemed to glare at the Pegasus with open menace.
A long road of monoliths and statues stretched back down the path from whence they had come. Time had done its work well, and the less sheltered pieces of art were barely perceivable with the damage the sand and dust had wrought over the centuries. It seemed a wonder to Pensword that no one had found the valley. The only logical explanation he could perceive, aside from the possibility of the place being too deep in the rock to be picked up by a satellite, was the probability of outside help. He didn’t want to dwell very much on that particular train of thought.
“And here we are,” Thoth said dryly.
“The tomb is sealed.” Pensword deadpanned and pointed a hoof to the portals. After a certain amount of nervous prancing and darting eyes, he finally squared his shoulders, rose his head high, and spoke. “Can I take pictures with my Equestrian camera to take back with me to Equis? They won’t be shown to anyone here on Earth.”
Thoth nodded as he gestured to one carving in the Egyptian style of an obviously Greek man with pale skin and long hair. “Push on the carving of Serapis and you will open the door. After that, you will have to figure it out.”
Pensword nodded, then sighed. “Puzzles, then. I suppose I should expect nothing less of a legendary tomb.” He pulled out his camera and snapped a few photos around the area. Then he did as he was bidden and waited. There was a loud rumble as stone ground against stone and the large heavy door opened to reveal a set of stairs leading down into the ground.
Pensword looked to Thoth. “You coming in, so I know which is your Khopesh?”
Thoth shook his head. “Unfortunately, this is where we must part. I cannot enter the tomb of another and disrupt their journey to the beyond. It would be abhorrent.”
“And yet I can?” Pensword asked with a raised brow.
“You are alive. The gate to the afterlife yet has no value to you.”
Pensword nodded, then put a rag around his muzzle in case of noxious fumes. A strange basin rested just within the doors to the right, with a groove that descended the stairs. He approached it and dipped a hoof inside, then sniffed the substance. “Oil?” He pulled out a rag from his pack and cleaned his hoof, then turned back to the entrance. Thoth was gone. “Well, I guess that just leaves me with one choice.” He pulled out his flint and a knife. “Lets get those sparks flying.” It took a few tries, but he finally managed to generate enough sparks to set the oil ablaze. “Please don’t let this be a trap,” he begged as the trail flowed down the stairs and curved out of sight. A second groove awaited him on the left. “Well, symmetry. I guess that’s not a bad sign, right?” He chuckled nervously, then ignited the second stream. One thing was certain. At least the trail would be well lighted.
The general assembly hall was a massive structure that more closely matched an amphitheater than an auditorium. Row upon row of desks had been set up, each with a series of chairs behind them to house a delegate or ambassador from each of the nations that were a part of the great organization. A great circle opened in the ceiling, where a series of delicate light fixtures draped down like water droplets, granting the impression of stars in a night sky. The UN’s seal, a giant laurel wreath surrounding a radar screen superimposed over the seven continents, stood proudly above the podium for guest speakers who came to address the full body of the assembly in their annual gathering. Two great projector screens flanked the backdrop of the seal on either side, so that those farther back in the room could easily watch the proceedings as speakers and delegates debated one with another.
Conor had been to this room once before during his orientation as an ambassador, but that had been when there weren’t any occupants. Now he watched in agitation as venerable men and women from across the globe assembled in their chairs, awaiting his demonstration. He sighed.
“This is either going to go exceptionally well or exceptionally poorly. You’re sure today isn’t a Tuesday, right?” he asked his wife as he ran his fingers through the collar of his suit for the fifth time.
“I double checked the calendar for you.” She chuckled. “You’ll be fine.”
“Well, I suppose I only have to worry about dealing with them for a few days, instead of the months and years I’ll have to deal with the nobles on the Equestrian side of things.” Their security guards remained close at hand to check the perimeter as the hall filled itself to maximum capacity.
In due course, the gathering was complete and the doors secured. The current president of the assembly, a tall slim woman with white skin and fiery hair, stared out over the gathering and cleared her throat.
“Ladies and gentlemen of the assembly, a little over a year ago, you were all notified of a startling truth that had been discovered. As such, in accordance with protocol, an emergency session of our international assembly was called. The UN security council interviewed the entities involved in this incident, and appropriate action was taken. Unfortunately, before our briefing could take place, our most recent distinguished member of this body took an … unexpected trip that left him out of contact for some time. It is now my pleasure to introduce Ambassador Vulpes to the stand. He will offer you all a proper debriefing and explain the situation inasmuch as he is able in his current capacity. Without further ado, I yield the floor to the ambassador.”
Conor gulped, gave his wife’s hand one more squeeze for luck, then strode up to the podium. “I thank you, Madame President, for this … unprecedented opportunity. I must apologize in advance to those who are translating. While I have prepared a general outline for what I intend to say, I have opted not to file a written speech to dictate. That isn’t how I work, and, for the most part, it’s not how the world where I have been living for the last year or so works. You’re not uninteligent people. If you were, I doubt you would have achieved these distinguished offices that you now hold.
“Doubtless, you have all received the briefs that I submitted for review before my … untimely departure. It is also likely that those briefs were edited and changed severely from their original format against my wishes and strict instructions. I have noticed that tends to be how bureaucracy works. This is a criticism of sorts, yes, but it is not intended harshly. I know this is a reality that every man and woman in a political body must live with. In time, hopefully I’ll be able to live with it, too. But for now, allow me to give you a summary about this new world with which we have made contact, and in which I was fortunate enough to have been accepted as an ambassador and delegate.
“Equis is a planet that exists in a far-off quadrant of space. As far as I am aware, it doesn’t exist in our galaxy, let alone our universe. This world is vast and rich in natural resources. It is also rich in races that are most definitely not human, many of which exist in ancient mythology. I say races, because each of these individual species is most definitely sapient in nature. There are at least ten separate kingdoms, nations, and protectorates that we know of, and my research indicates there are more besides that I have yet to include in my lists. The majority of these races are quadrupedal in nature, but there are some few that are considered bipedal. Among these races are Dragons, Minotaurs, Kitsune, Sphinxes, Gryphons, Sea Serpents, Draconequus, Diamond Dogs, Yaks, Buffalo, and a massive population of equines divided into a number of tribes and subspecies that include Zebras, Mules, Donkeys, Unicorns, Pegasi, Earth Ponies, Crystal Ponies, Thestrals, Changelings, Horses, and most important of all, Alicorns.”
The projector screens flashed to life behind him as he named each unique species and race to reveal images from pottery, artistic reliefs, and other depictions from around the world for the more mythical races.
“As many of you are doubtless aware, one Lauren Faust created a television series that is eerie in its sheer similarity to Equis, right down to the exact animated details of the current rulers of the realm and their adversaries. I am told that it also has an accurate portrayal of certain entities with whom my friends and I have become associated. Equestria does indeed focus on the power of friendship, and utilizes those principles as a means to amplify their natural abilities. I speak to you, of course, of the force that, on that world at least, is called magic.”
A low murmur carried through the room.
“For those of you who are Christian, Jewish, or Islamic, I understand that such talk will be difficult to accept. According to these various theologies, magic is considered to be something evil, born of dark forces that desire to control us and seize our very souls for themselves. This is why I have prefaced my words with the statement that the term magic is simply that, a term. It is the closest translation in our tongue. Over the last year, I have been able to perform several in-depth studies of the power in question. To put it simply, their form of magic is essentially tapping the potential energy that exists within their world, a process not unlike the scientific theory of utilizing lay lines as a means of energy. This energy is then channeled to perform various tasks ranging from something as simple as levitation to the more complex forms of warding and shielding, summoning, and much more.”
He laid his hands on the pulpit and stared the gathering down.
“Make no mistake. Magic is a real force. It exists, and these people are able to use it in one form or another. They each have their own gods, their own religions, their own cultures and morals. I’ve been privileged to meet some of these entities, and they have proven to be benign, focused on the wellbeing of those who stand under their care. Whether you believe them to be divine or merely beings who stand on a higher plane of existence, it doesn’t matter. Their power dwarfs anything that their adherents can bring to bare, and they will act if any threat or harm comes to their children. As such, I would encourage you and your various nations to act on your best behavior when we are finally able to establish more permanent relations with this world. We do not need a battle of gods and religion. There’s enough of that kind of conflict here on Earth among extremists.”
He cleared his throat and sipped from his water glass.
“The kingdom which I have been tasked to establish relations with is known as Equestria. It is a realm run on a diarchy in which two mares are the primary rulers. They also have two sister rulers, one of whom reigns within that land, the other in an empire that is a close ally to this kingdom. They function in a series of local governments not unlike the system found in England. However, these two diarchs hold more authority over their subjects and the house of nobles, due to one unique fact, which is obvious to any of you who have studied up on the subject. I don’t believe I need remind you, since you’ve had a year to prepare for my return.
“They are also no strangers to political intrigue and espionage. These diarchas have battled in and survived no less than three separate great wars with one of their neighboring nations alone. Since they have chosen to make use of the power known as magic, they have had little use for developing their technology beyond a certain point.
“Their society is a curious blend of medieval and modern, with steam engines and carts drawn by said Ponies to transport goods and people. Their architecture is much the same. In the larger cities, they have structures similar to what we have on a regular basis in Manhattan and other such places. Other locations, like the capital, keep a more picturesque appearance, including castles and manor houses designed to impress blended with shopping districts and various eateries that cater to the various races that pass through.
“As the ambassador to the Equestrians, and to Equis in general, I give you all my solemn word that I will seek to execute my duties to the very best of my ability. I will meet with and answer the questions of those who seek any understanding, and I will make sure to pass on certain messages as I am able. However, I must warn you that for now, we have no established means of communication between the worlds. We are only able to travel with the assistance of one of these more powerful magical entities. We are working on this problem, but it will take time to find a proper solution.
“As such, I must warn you all that my time here will be limited. I will be needed back in Equestria. However, before I go, I intend to have a proper staff set up to receive any requests, audiences, etcetera from the general body. They will make sure to file away any formal requests, suggestions, overtures, that sort of thing, for me to look over the next time I arrive.”
He nodded and cleared his throat. “Now then, to assure each of you as to the reality of this first contact, I would like to give you a live demonstration.” He reached up to the band on his arm and twisted the gem. In a flash of light, the human disappeared. No one appeared to be behind the pulpit. Then a light blue glow emanated from behind the pulpit, followed by the rising form of a white Unicorn.
The room burst out in an uproar, until the Unicorn’s voice, Conor’s voice, boomed over every one of them.
“AS YOU CAN SEE, I HAVE TAKEN ON THE FORM OF ONE OF THE NATIVES!” The chamber had little choice but to quiet itself as they clung to their desks against the force of the amplification. The Unicorn cleared his throat and continued at a regular tone. “Now that you’re all ready to listen again, allow me to explain. Changing forms is a simple enough trick, provided one has the knowledge and the means to charge the device responsible.” He twisted the gem again and stood before them in his human form. “There is no harm, and absolutely no means of any form of invasion that could occur, for those of you who are paranoid about such things. Even if they could, they wouldn’t without provocation. It’s against their nature.” He nodded graciously. “I thank you all for your time. With this conclusion, I now cede the floor to Madame President to take over.”
He returned to his chair, where he clasped his wife’s hand and smiled weakly. “Here’s hoping we won’t have to deal with any major troubles.” Then he chuckled. “Brace yourself for a very long grandstanding session.”
The sun was hot in the sky above as Grif sat by a river that he did not know the name of. He scribbled down thaumic arcane and mundane quotients and problems on a sheet of paper as he attempted to figure out the issue of hand. Given math was never his strongest point, it had already taken nearly three hours.
Thanks to a careful use of thaumaturgy and judicious use of the batteries he’d been provided by Clover, Grif had found the spot where the book was located. The issue was it was more than four hundred feet below ground level in a massive, partly-collapsed chamber. There were no discernable entrances or exits, which very much fit the stories told of how the tomb was lost. The entrance had been covered completely, had several herds of horses stampede over it and the river diverted over that for extra measure.
This, of course, led to the issue of how Grif was supposed to access it with no entrance. Fortunately, he had a few ideas. Unfortunately, he was not entirely sure he had enough batteries to sustain the attempt. And so, he found himself forced to do these arcane mathematics to figure out if what he needed was possible.
Earth was a tricky aspect. It offered a lot in terms of sturdiness, but was not the most malleable of aspects. It was also of note that earth was not stone, and if Grif should encounter rock on his decent, he would have to find a way to go around or thaumically break it down in order to get past it. He’d already had several false starts, and was slower due to the fact that he had to correct his own guesswork.
It was already past noon when he finally decided he was satisfied enough with the math to risk it. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and began to concentrate. Thaumaturgy was not magic. Normally, to apply the rules of magic to this art caused a net loss of potential. But energy was not the issue Grif needed to worry about. He needed fine control. So it was that he began to think about a set of rules, to believe them, and to set them as completely unavoidable in his mind.
‘To move the earth, you must first find your calm and strengthen your stance,’ He thought to himself as he took several deep breaths and moved his feet apart, giving him a slightly bow-legged stance.
‘Become firm unmovable, like the mountain.’ Having removed his combat boots earlier, he dug his feet into the hot earth beneath.
‘Feel the earth, connect it to your being.’ He slowly bled a piece of energy into the ground.
‘Will it.’ Grif lifted a foot high until his knee was almost at his stomach and stomped down hard. There was a rumble almost like a groan, and slowly a small pillar of earth erupted from the ground beside him until it reached his waist. Grif grinned at this success as he looked to a spot a bit off the river bank and stomped again, harder and fiercer. A large chunk of earth receded inward to form a firm, albeit rough step into the earth. With a crow of victory, Grif began his work, descending slowly with heavy stomps as he vanished into the subterranean world below.
The Smithsonian grounds were positively writhing with tourists. “Your artifact is likely somewhere in storage. We’ve taken advantage of their systems to find the item’s photo and fling number in question. All you have to do is present your offer to the head of the museum,” Scully said as she handed a folder to Shawn. “You did remember to see how much money you have in your accounts on the plane, didn’t you?”
“Of course,” Shawn replied as he adjusted his cravat before double checking the contents of the folder. “Wasn’t much to focus on in said plane, to be honest.”
“Other than me, you mean?” Rarity teased. Her hand twitched feverishly over her tablet as the stylus scrawled along the screen. Sights, sounds, textures, smells, all combined in her notes and sketches for potential designs that she had yet to consider.
“Well, that’s a given,” he chuckled in response.
“Given the nature of the artifact, it’s likely be reserved for the Human Diversity section. The director’s an old acquaintance. Knows his stuff. Don’t try to outsmart him. Just be your usual blunt self. The rest will iron itself out,” Bubbles said.
“Sounds like a difficult task,” Shawn replied simply.
“Is that a hint of sarcasm I hear, darling?” Rarity asked absently.
“Me? Never.”
Rarity smirked. “I love you, too.”
The couple entered into the museum lobby arm in arm, and Bubbles approached the reception desk with his usual intimidating expression. “Got a meeting with Sallah. He’s expecting us.”
“Mister … Bubbles?” The receptionist looked up at the agent from his computer with a skeptical brow raised. “Cobra Bubbles, like Lilo and Stitch?”
“Misdirection. People are less likely to believe a cartoon character actually works for the government.”
“Fair point.” The receptionist shrugged. “He’s in his office. Chuck’ll take you.” He adjusted a few dials on a radio console and spoke into the receiver. “Hey, Chuck, our guests are here.”
“Be right there,” crackled back over the radio. A few minutes later, a tall heavyset security guard strode up to them in his navy uniform. His head was smooth, and a hint of almost transparent bristles reflected the light. “So, you’re today’s VIPs, huh?”
“That would be correct,” Shawn replied simply.
Chuck grunted. “This way.”
He led them into a side passage and down several flights of stairs to a long corridor lit by fluorescent bulbs. The group eventually came to a large set of heavily reinforced glass doors sealed by a pin pad. A hunched figure bent over a magnifying glass to inspect an old leatherbound tome with yellowed parchment. A heavy knock was enough to rouse the man from his work. He blinked blearily at the doorway. His skin was a pale tan, and his hair was a bristly black. His face was framed by a set of large round-framed glasses that magnified his hazel eyes. He grinned and pressed a button on his desk. The doors slid open, and he strode forward to embrace Bubbles’ broad torso as best his arms could manage.
“Cobra. It’s been far too long.” His Turkish accent was strong, but his English was well pronounced.
“Yes.” Cobra deadpanned. “It has.”
“Come in. Come in, please.” He gestured to a set of simple leather-backed chairs with four straight wooden legs and bars on them to rest one’s feet. “Thank you, Chuck. You may resume your rounds.” He shooed the guard out the doors, then grinned at his guests. “I was just examining one of our more recent acquisitions. I must say, while Medieval literature is a bit juvenile and repetitive, their artistic renderings always leave me speechless.”
Rarity approached the book and looked down at the open pages. “It reminds me of the stained glass back in the Hall of History,” she noted.
“Hall of History?”
“An affectation from their home, Sir,” Scully assured the doctor. “They’re collectors of a sort.”
“I am aware,” Sallah said. “And apparently, this particular item you seek is part of a set you are assembling?”
“Correct,” Shawn replied. “My associates are currently elsewhere collecting the other segments as we speak.”
“We would have had some trouble identifying the object in question, if you hadn’t mentioned it being written with indecipherable characters.” He crouched down in front of a safe next to a filing cabinet and twisted the combination lock accordingly. When the door creaked open, he reached in and withdrew a large stone slab. “A little on the heavy side, but not impossible to carry.” He laid the artifact down on his work table. “Feel free to examine it to verify. If it is the wrong one, we can go into storage to seek out the proper item.”
Shawn examined the slab for a moment, noting the familiar text that he could somewhat translate. “This is it,” he replied as he continued to translate it in his head.
“Then it is simply a matter of negotiating a fair price for the artifact.” He settled into his chair and tented his fingers. “Shall we begin?”
“Three hundred million,” Shawn offered.
Sallah blinked, shook his head, then dug into his ears to clear them. “I’m sorry, could you repeat that figure?”
“I’m starting the offer at three hundred million,” Shawn replied once more. He had little to no use for any spare cash, and decided to just go for the end result he would be comfortable with.
“Right off the bat?”
“Would you prefer I start lower?” Shawn questioned.
Sallah chuckled. “Haggling is often a part of my old cultural heritage. But I believe that price is more than fair. I am tempted to cut it back, simply to avoid taking advantage.”
“It doesn’t bother me in the slightest whether you take the full amount or not.”
Sallah looked inquiringly at Bubbles. “He’s serious?”
“He’s as serious as I am.” Bubbles deadpanned again.
“And who are we to contact for this transaction? Such a large sum cannot be arranged to transfer in mere hours.”
“I have all the necessary information.” Bubbles pulled a clipboard from his coat and handed it to him.
“It will take a day for us to get everything in proper order, but given that this is a matter where the government appears to be concerned, I’m certain we should be able to expedite the process. Come back in the morning, and we should have the necessary papers and packaging ready.”
“That should work out,” Shawn hummed for a moment. “All right. If everything is in order, then we can continue our day wherever it leads.”
“Then if you do not object, how about I give you two a behind the scenes tour of the museum? It’s the least I can do.”
“I would enjoy that,” Shawn replied with a nod before looking to Rarity. “What do you think?”
Rarity shrugged. “It sounds interesting enough. And perhaps their medieval section will give you some ideas.” She pecked him on the cheek. “After all, I’m not so selfish as to want to be the only one who gets inspiration from this trip.”
The stairs led down for more than two hundred feet. The hallway was narrow, and ancient stone bricks covered his vision from all sides as Pensword descended. Upon reaching the bottom he found himself entering a large underground chamber
The flames in the wall sconces cast the room in golden light. Large bronze statues of lions flanked the entrance to a straight path. lined by colonnades and statues. His hoofsteps echoed as he strode cautiously through the passage. Gods from pantheons ranging from Greek to Egyptian to Persian and beyond gazed indifferently at him. Near the end of the path, an immense statue of a woman with four arms stood with a fearsome snarl on her face. A necklace of skulls was chained around her neck. One arm held a severed head aloft. A second held a dish to catch the blood. A third held a massive sword. The fourth remained empty, ready for combat. Last, but not least, he stared the mighty judge Zeus. The lord of Olympus glowered at the intruder, but his lightning bolt did not stir, and his arms remained locked in place.
Pensword marveled at the sights. He opened his wings and rose to snap a few shots of Zeus and the other statues along the hallway. It also granted him a general view of the chamber, including the location of a peculiarly placed bronze door. He drew back a heavy bolt from its surface and passed into the next chamber.
Unlit torches sat in a pair of sconces on either side of the entrance. Pensword grabbed one of them and ducked back into the warm light of the room to ignite the item and grant him more light. Then he returned to the room and raised the item high into the air to widen his view.
“Please, don’t let there be any traps,” he murmured.
The room seemed almost to breathe as the air from the passage above cycled through the door. A series of ledges had been carved into the walls. Swords, spears, and shields lay on racks, waiting to be used. They never would again. If there were any spiritual guardians meant to wield them, they were not here.
The steady drip of moisture echoed through the chamber, and Pensword frowned. There wasn’t any sign of water damage, and the stone had held well, despite the number of years that had passed. He followed the sound, until he reached a stone basin that had been carved into the floor beneath one of the ledges. The tang of iron wafted into his nose, and he reeled back in disgust when he finally saw the dark red liquid.
“Blood? Here? How?” It had been centuries. Any offerings would have long dried up, and the tomb remained undisturbed. There was no feasible means to renew the supply. And yet, there it was. The basin was a good four pony lengths in any direction, and arced out in a half circle from the wall. He prodded the liquid with the edge of his torch. When he pulled it back, the blood dripped and spattered the ground. Pensword reached tentatively with a wing and touched the lower portion experimentally with a hoof. He felt nothing. No moisture, no caking, and most of all, no drying. “An illusion, or…?” Pensword lifted his gaze to the ledge. “Maybe something more.”
He rose with torch in hoof and approached the lip. A mixture of red and gold shimmered back under the torchlight in a searing crescent. There lay the Khopesh, untouched by time, and ever shedding the blood of its sworn enemy. Its sheath was mounted on the wall beside it, waiting to house the blade again.
The warrior took his time to gaze on the weapon that would be the salvation of a race he had once hated so much. And yet, in part, the reason why they had done so was because they lacked the leadership of their gods. Thoth had said as much himself. Could it be that, were it not for Anubis, his life, Grif’s life, all of their lives, might have been entirely different? Would his family have been safe? Would his town have survived?
He chuckled mirthlessly. “How ironic. One of the leaders who helped demolish the empire in Equestria is tasked to bring the means of their salvation to their savior. Fate really can be a bitter thing at times.”
Although he had Thoth’s permission, it felt only right that he give some small offering. He bowed his head and uttered two prayers, the first in English after the manner of his former humanity, the second in Equish as an old warrior’s prayer to Faust and Sleipnir. WIth his offering complete, the commander bucked the scabbard harshly to knock it off its mount. It clattered to the ground, and the room reverberated with the harsh retort of the blow. The khopesh itself was surprisingly light in his wing as he pried it from the channel in which it had been embedded for so many years. It must have known the will of its master, or so the Pony suspected. The weapon slid soundlessly into its sheath, and Pensword watched as the blood that had flowed for so many years dribbled to a crawl, and finally halted.
Once he’d properly stowed the weapon, he glided back down to the floor. There was no sign of a passage other than the one from which he had just entered, but that didn’t make any sense. The acute sound of roiling fluid pulled his attention back to the basin. The pool writhed and seethed like a wounded animal. The fluid coagulated in one large bubble that burst open to fill the room with an unearthly howl of fear, pain, and dismay. Pensword recoiled and reached for a battery. If some malevolent spirit were stirring, he might need Dakota, and he didn’t know how much magic it would take to call the guide.
The scabbard warmed against Pensword’s side, and he gaped at the weapon as a wrathful hiss answered. Loath though he was to do so, Pensword touched the weapon and stepped forward. The sword vibrated, even as the wail intensified. The blood in the pool reared upward and teetered dangerously, as if it would smother the sword and its bearer both in its embrace.
A powerful gust of wind blew through the chamber, sending the torch’s flames toward the blood, even as the astral fluid recoiled. The gusts continued to blow rhythmically, and the blood teetered right, forward, left, backward, again and again. Always, the gusts came in fours.
“So, you help one who has harmed your children,” Pensword muttered. “You really must be desperate.”
The artifact radiated heat now, and Pensword winced at the sheer spiritual pressure the scabbard exerted. He approached the pool. “I’m going to assume whatever this is is guarding what I need,” he guessed. The blood cried out as the wind swirled it into a towering spiral. Every attempt it made to leave its bounds resulted in the substance breaking apart. “And here’s where I wish I had the power to banish,” he muttered. He would have summoned Dakota, but he didn’t even know whether the bear would be able to do anything. It was one thing to drive away an invading spiritual force. It was quite another to battle an entity that had made its anchor in a space one was invading. “What am I to do here?” he shouted over the gale. “I don’t understand!”
This time, a low moan carried over the stone. A rush of whispers stirred, nearly lost in the howls of the gale. Pensword frowned. His ears twitched. He crouched to the ground and listened. Suddenly, the scabbard turned cold. The torch’s flame guttered, and the shadows within the walls of the tomb deepened, seeming to reach toward the Pegasus and the spiritual construct.
For a moment, everything was still. The gale stopped howling. The tower of blood froze in place. Somewhere, Pensword could almost swear he heard the creaking of a heavy door swinging open, even as his body shook against the cold. The sheath bit like winter’s ice. One breath rasped through the still air. One foreign word dragged the air from his lungs and left them burning as his heart hammered in his chest.
This time, there was no howl, only a scream of absolute terror. The tower gradually disintegrated from top to bottom, breaking off into puffs of red that curled and blackened, then were swallowed by the shadows. When the mass had completely dissipated, the creaking groaned again, and Pensword heard a final slam as the last echoes of that disembodied voice faded into the silence.
Warmth returned, and Pensword gasped for breath. “What was that thing, some sort of avatar for Anubis’ anger?” He eyed the khopesh worriedly. He could still see the blood when he drew the blade from its sheath. Could the blood be harmful to others? Could it influence them? He would have to be careful. For now, at least, though, it seemed the sword was back to normal.
He approached the basin and peered into the shadows. What he thought to be a shallow divet turned out to be a large pit at least ten feet deep. He glided to the floor with trembling limbs as his body recuperated from the adrenaline rush. An iron-bound door lay embedded in one of the walls. The door yielded reluctantly, and Pensword stepped inside.
The royal burial chamber was everything he had expected of such a rich king and so much more. Gold, silver, cups, jewels, sheptis, shields, helmets, garments, chests. Everything had been carefully laid and preserved. Jade and other precious materials had been embedded in the walls and filigree of various artifacts, and piles upon piles of coins sat next to the moldering remains of food and the sealed bottles of wine that had yet to be opened.
Further examination yielded the revelation that this treasure room was but one of the first. It took two more rooms before he was finally able to pass into the inner sanctum where the god-king lay. The curtains that guarded his sleep had long since decayed into fragments. The image of Alexander’s face had been beaten into the Egyptian gold after the manner of the Greeks. And there, beside the stone sarcophagus, sat an ornately carved desk no larger than a nightstand. A single scroll lay atop it, sealed with wax and cord. Two wooden handles on either side would allow the reader to move forward or back in the narrative with ease. The material was undoubtedly papyrus, but the scroll looked brand new. No dust had coated it. No cobwebs had formed around it. There could be no doubt what lay before him.
“So, this is the book.” He took the scroll and laid it reverently in his satchel. Then he took his time to look over the tomb, and most importantly the sarcophagus. There laid a ruler who had changed the world forever, and whose influence still touched that world today. “It is an honor to behold the earthly remains of the general that teaches even our modern militaries.”
Pensword bowed his head and rose into the air, then saluted the old king with his hoof. It was an honor only given to fallen officers as the cloud ships bore them away. “I am sorry to disturb your earthly resting place, but our land has need of this book. If you would be so kind as to let me return it to the land it came from, I will leave a few of our land’s jewels in exchange.” he slowly placed the gems onto the table. “I will also leave something as fair trade.” He pulled a new printed copy of Commander Hurricane’s writings on war. He turned, and a single feather drifted off his wing to settle on the sarcophagus’ chest. “Goodbye, Alexander. May I meet you when my time comes many decades from now.”
And with that final farewell, Pensword departed the place of death and sleep for the world of light and life that awaited his return.
Conor groaned as he stepped out of his office. “First the security council, then the general assembly, and now an onslaught of delegates determined to offer platitudes and ingratiations.” He stretched, and his whole body cracked. “I really need to hire that staff ASAP.”
“We’ll be looking into that tomorrow. The majority of applicants have been required to have knowledge of My Little Pony as part of the job,” the secretary said as she adjusted the pins in her hair bun.
“Smart thinking. By the way, have we gotten any word on Lauren Faust? I’d like to have a discussion with her and see just how much she really knows about Equestria.”
“Her agent has been screening our calls. About the only way we might get her to come is if we send someone to fetch her.”
Conor rolled his eyes. “Great. Just great.”
“Looking for another mare already?” Trixie asked.
“Not at the moment. Though I suppose that could change, if I’m caught in a rut.” He smirked at her blush and pecked her on the cheek. “Now then, where do you want to go tonight? I assume you’ve been plotting out potential places to visit for sightseeing while we’re here?”
“I’m not sure. I’ve heard a lot about broadway, though.” She smiled.
Conor raised a curious brow. “I’m surprised you’re interested in seeing a musical, when your life has literally been one from the moment you were born. The slightest thing can set off a whole production in Equestria. Heck, talk to Twilight about finding the perfect book or the ideal genre, and you’ll have the whole town joining in.”
Trixie laughed. “I suppose that's true.”
“Then again, there’s one musical that I think you’ll fall in love with as deeply as I have. It’s the story of a charismatic young woman who only wants to be loved for who she is, rather than how she looks, and the journey she takes in that quest. Trust me, you’ll love it.”
“I look forward to it.”
“I promise. It’ll be downright … wicked.”
Grif wiped sweat from his brow as he sat against the wall of earth that made up one part of the boundary of the chamber that his journey had led to. He’d used up three of the arcane batteries to get here, and was still low on energy, but trying his best to hold off on another refill. Aside from packed earth, the chamber was filled with crumbled stone walls. Broken pieces of wood lay scattered around to mingle with time-eaten metal.
However, further down the chamber and closer to where Grif had felt the magic of the object he believed he was looking for was a set of stairs that looked completely untouched by time. They lead up to a stone platform. Grif wasn’t sure what waited there, but he looked forward to seeing it.
When he was certain he’d rested long enough to recover his energy, he began his ascent. The stairs were large, and the climb took some time, but eventually Grif found himself approaching the top. What he found gave him pause. Qin Shi Huang was the name of the emperor of China who commissioned the terracotta army, the large clay sculptures depicting more than 8000 forces ready for battle. It seemed that temujin kahn likewise desired an army to watch him in death. Though not nearly so numerous, Grif guessed there had to be at least three thousand finely made clay riders on the platform, each on a horse and dressed for combat. Most wore traditional mongolian garb, but Grif recognized others. Chinese, Polish, Russian. Warriors from the coast of Asia to the coast of Europe lay arrayed for a battle that would not come. Unlike the terracotta army of Qin Shi Huang, however, none of these had degraded.
Grif made his steps carefully through the rows of warriors. Several times, he found himself giving respectful nods while a hand went for the knife he kept at his side. He laughed to himself and shook his head as he strolled to the army’s center. There, he discovered what he guessed to be a funerary procession. Bannermen held up sticks that once boasted glorious standards. Horses where hitched to a wagon that held what appeared to be a coffin. Around it were several goods. Tools, a bow and arrows, things that Grif guessed at least one culture he ruled over would have thought he needed. A single book laid atop the coffin’s lid written and bound in the old style. Numerous pieces of bamboo had been tied together by cord, and each wooden piece had symbols written on it that at first resembled chinese calligraphy. On further inspection, however, Grif later realized it also looked nothing like that language. It felt strange to look at. Unlike the other organic materials that had been buried, the book was untouched by time. The bamboo was still supple, the words still crisp and clear. Power emanated from this book, and it took only a moment for him to realize that this was the artifact he sought. Approaching the wagon, Grif bowed his head in salute to the legend whose earthly remains rested before him.
“Forgive me. I don’t mean to do this, but I have need of that far more than you do. May your rest be undisturbed by my actions.” With that, Grif approached, carefully lifted the book from the coffin, and placed it in his bag. He dug around the vessel and pulled out one of his finer knives, slightly more intricate than the rest, with a cut ruby in the guard. He placed it on the coffin and bowed once more. Then he made his way quickly to the entrance. He could already feel the magic in this place waning, and he wanted to seal the entry before the paint started to decay on the statues.
“Rest well, great Temujin Khan, the one called Genghis Khan, conqueror of the world.” With those words, he willed the earth back over the hole and began his long slow walk to the surface, covering his tracks as he walked. It may be that someday people would stumble upon this great tomb, but Grif had no intention of leading them to it. He’d let the ruler rest in peace, a final gift between warriors.
“Well, for such an unassuming artifact, it certainly has a lot of magical power,” Rarity noted as she brushed her fingers over the rough-hewn stone block. The tour through the museum had been an enlightening experience for the mare-turned-human as she viewed fragments of Earth’s history from a scientific perspective. Now they both sat in their limousine under the shelter of its blast-resistant windows and armor-plated doors. “But if it’s supposed to have so much information in it, then why are there so few words?”
“It’s most likely just a cover, an illusion of sorts.” Shawn hummed to himself. “A security measure to ensure the information was kept hidden.”
“I wonder what they’ll be like when they all come together again. If this magic is on all of them, then they should each have taken a camouflage of sorts, right?”
“Correct, though they all follow the same frequency.”
“I wonder how they survived in such a low-magic environment, though. We have to use those batteries you designed to keep our reserves up. What’s kept them going?”
“Perhaps they’re more resilient to the drain of Earth,” he offered with a frown as he thought it over. “It could be some form of drain resistance put into it to keep them stable.”
“Why do I get the feeling you intend to study it intensely when we get home?” She smiled and kissed him on the cheek.
“I doubt I’ll be able to.” He sighed. “Once they’re in a magic enriched environment, they’re bound to reconnect to one another.”
“And that will impede your study, how, exactly? Won’t the magic engraved in it remain the same?”
“I was curious to study them in their current state to figure out how they managed to last this amount of time. I could still do so before we return, but I am unsure how much power it’ll take from me to do so on Earth.”
“In other words, risk versus reward.” Rarity frowned. “That is a predicament. Have you considered asking whether there might be an arcane research division that the government here has set up? Perhaps they might have some tools that could assist you.”
“The world is too magically dead for anything significant to take place. That, and it’s unlikely they’d take me there, if it existed.”
“Then I suppose the decision lies solely in your hands.” She frowned. “I wish there were some way that I could make it easier for you, though.” She chuckled. “I suppose that’s the generosity in me talking.”
“I’ll figure something out.” He smiled. “Say, where were we heading again?”
“I would assume the hotel, but I’m not Mister Bubbles.” She giggled.
“I’m leaning toward another round of tests.” He sighed. “They’ve been talking and hinting about it for some time now.”
“Well, you are a captivating subject,” she teased. “Or have you forgotten how many times you tested my designs?”
The divider lowered, and Cobra’s shades stared at them from the rear view mirror as he drove.
“Strictly procedure. We need to confirm you aren't carrying foreign agents,” Cobra stated.
“Interesting, given the fact we do have shrinking and growth spells.” Rarity laughed. “For all you know, we actually could be.” She sighed. “In all seriousness, though, I assume you intend to test the both of us?”
“Public safety.”
“Let’s be honest, there’s more tests than just one for foreign bacteria,” Shawn commented.
“Naturally,” Scully said. “Your unique anatomy showed potential for further change. It’s my job to document any such changes that might occur. Though we may need to borrow another of your knives for the blood test.”
“His knives? Whatever for?” Rarity asked.
“They’re the only things that can pierce his skin. Unless he’s crafted some needles we can use, instead, that’s our best way to get his blood for testing.”
Rarity clutched the skirt of her dress. “And there’s really no other way?”
Scully looked at Shawn with an inquiring brow raised.
He shrugged. “Sorry, needles aren’t exactly a standard weapon on Equis.”
“Then, no, there’s no other way we know of for now,” Scully said. “I suppose you could ask him to forge some for future use.”
“Actually, I might have a method or two that could work.” Shawn hummed, then murmured, “Perhaps I could shift the aspect...”
“Care to share with the class, Mister Viginti?” Scully asked.
“Well, I could shift the aspect that makes up my blood out,” he replied as he continued thinking to himself. “Wouldn’t have to add another cut to the list, and it should work out fine.”
“Wouldn’t it materialize as a crystal, though?” Rarity asked.
“Shifting the aspect wouldn’t crystalize it.” He smiled. “Though, I would need an active container to shift it to.”
“That shouldn’t be possible, but then again, neither was your blood steaming,” Scully noted with a flat expression.
Rarity shrugged. “That’s my Hammer Strike. He always makes the impossible possible, somehow.”
“Let’s hope his world-saving antics aren’t needed on this side of the veil, shall we?”
“Who said it would only apply to world-saving?” Rarity said mischievously, then chuckled and kissed her husband.
Scully groaned.
The doors ground to a close as Pensword engaged the mechanism, and he looked upon the place with a mixture of profound respect and overflowing relief. The sky had faded to orange, and the temperature had begun to drop, though the change was negligible to one who had just emerged from underground. Indeed, for Pensword, the air felt hotter, not colder.
He ran as fast as his legs would carry him. With the passing of this day, it likely wouldn’t be long before he was called back to Equestria. If he was going to let Alexander rest in peace, he would need to close the original hidden door.
The moon lit his steps by the time he emerged from the passage, and a makeshift rope gave him the leverage he needed to yank the door shut. Now all he had to do was wait for the call. Thoth was likely chasing Anubis again by now. It was a pity he wouldn’t be able to say goodbye, but at least he would succeed in granting Thoth’s fondest desire, the deliverance of the final puzzle piece Grif required to restore his gods.
The commander found a crevice and settled down to write in his journal. These strange events would need to be reported to Grif and Hammer Strike. A few hours later, he finished his record and removed the scroll from his bag. There was nothing of any special note about the artifact, other than the fact he experienced a sense of unease when he drew too close to it. Perhaps the item was starved for magic? Or perhaps it was a warning to avoid meddling with it. It was of Alicorn make, after all. Those magics were far more advanced and potent.
If the scroll had remained sealed, however, it begged the question how the knowledge and power were imparted to the king. The most likely answer would be a link of some kind to the owner’s mind. Perhaps it communicated through Alexander’s subconscious? He would have to ask Hammer Strike about the specifics when they all returned.
Finally, he had his fill of pondering the object and returned it with his materials to his satchel. He took a final swig of water from his supply, then curled up for the night. The mystery of the Alicorns would be solved soon enough. That reality both excited and frightened him as he slowly drifted into sleep.
“So, aside from that rather unpleasant blood test, I’d say our little vacation here has been rather productive.” Conor smiled at his wife as he turned his head on the hotel pillow. “And showing you the sights in my world has been wonderful.” He leaned over and kissed her on the brow. “So, what do you think? Do you like it, hate it, feel neutral and/or disinterested?”
“It’s interesting, the food aside.” Trixie laughed.
“Hey, it’s not our fault we don’t have an overabundance of manna to boost the quality, you know.” He sputtered and blew some of her hair into her face, then smirked as she giggled and pulled the stray hairs back into place.
“Fair enough. Still, I look forward to getting home.”
“Missing your wings?”
“Among other things.” She nodded.
“Such as?”
“Our lessons.”
“You miss being threatened on a regular basis and sleepless nights? Well … ones that don’t have to do with us having our,” he cleared his throat, “alone time?”
“You act like you haven’t enjoyed any of it.”
“Touché. It has been cool learning all this theory. And I suppose after everything in Zebrica, it’s a lot easier. Part of me just likes to vent and/or complain about stuff, I suppose.” He shrugged. “At least I don't whine.” He smirked. “Though I can be exceptionally cheesy.”
“Careful. You might scare Twilight.”
“How so?”
“Haven’t you heard? She’s afraid of quesadillas.”
Conor cocked his head. “... Que?”
“Apparently, they’re too cheesy.”
“That makes absolutely no sense. It’s a thin layer of cheese. How are they too cheesy?”
Trixie shrugged. “I don’t know. Ask her.”
“I think I will. Somepony needs to set her straight. A little salsa fresca, or maybe some mango salsa would go a long way to helping her get over that.”
“If you think you can.” Trixie chuckled.
“Worst case scenario, it’ll be an excellent experiment in our shield casting.” He winked at her. “And an excellent combination for date night.”
“I’ll make a note of it.” Trixie winked back.
“Good. And just think, the next trip you get to take is to show me the sights in Manehattan. I can’t wait to see all your old haunts.”
“There won’t be much. I was a traveling magician. Not a lot of haunts you can afford on an entertainer’s bits.”
“You mean I can’t see some of the places that booked you? You were a pretty big stage magician at the time, weren’t you?”
“I had my audience.” Trixie blushed. “I’m sure we’ll be able to see some things.”
“Good. And then I can treat you along the way, with some much better tasting food.” He smirked. “But for now...” He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. “How about we produce some of our own entertainment?”
“I think I might have one special performance in me.” She grinned and kissed him as a magical aura surrounded the light switch, and the room was cloaked in darkness.
Grif felt the tug a moment before the world began to shift around him. Ducking into the forward momentum, he rolled forward and triggered the gem on his bracer as he tumbled. He managed to stop his momentum on all fours and gave a contented sigh as he stretched his wings. “Good to be home.”
Hammer Strike appeared alongside Rarity a second later, both already having reverted back to their Pony forms. Hammer Strike sighed to himself as he felt the flow of energy shift to a positive.
A moment later, Pensword rolled around on the ground and flapped his wings in a disjointed mess. He had just been rudely woken from his sleep. He finally settled back to his stomach as he cooed and shivered from the magic and energies of Equestria flowing back into him. Unfortunately, that did nothing about the sand and dirt that still clung to his fur and feathers.
Lastly, Vital Spark and Trixie strode into existence with a large parcel held on the Unicorn’s back. The band and bracelet both shimmered as they drank in Equis’ magical field while the Alicorn perked up and smiled confidently.
“Everyone accounted for?” Vital asked.
“Seems like it.” Grif nodded as he scanned the group. “Can’t say I want to have to do that again.”
Pensword looked at Grif and he stood up to stretch out his kinks. “And I feel like you just jinxed it.”
“Nah. Didn’t feel the spine tingle this time. Pretty sure Murphy is gonna wait on that one for a while,” Vital said as he stretched. “So, Pensword, catch.” He levitated the parcel and tossed it at the Pegasus.
Pensword spun and caught the parcel. “Is it what I asked for?”
“Naturally.” Vital smiled. “I hope Moon River enjoys it.”
“I do as well.”
“I assume everyone obtained his artifact?” Hammer Strike questioned.
Grif pulled the bamboo parcel out from his bag. “Got mine.”
Pensword pulled removed the scroll. “I got mine.”
Rarity hovered the stone tablet in front of Hammer Strike. “There you are, darling.”
“Thank you.” Hammer Strike smiled as he took the tablet. After a moment, he took each artifact and placed them in close proximity to each other and the core. After a moment of nothing happening, he sighed. “If it is anything like the other part….” His hooves ignited with blue fire. “Then they’ll need sufficient energy.”
His field surrounded the three objects as he slowly pushed power into them. While it looked like nothing was happening, Hammer Strike felt as the artifacts latched onto his field, drawing significantly more than he was initially giving. Each object started to glow and draw near each other as their forms began to change. The light reached near-blinding proportions as their forms warped and merged. When a full shape had been formed, the light began to dim. What remained was a small leatherbound object. While it had the outward appearance of a book, the inner segments were simply a black mass, while the outside remained a well-made and cared for cover, much like the cover for a book.
Hammer Strike frowned to himself as he reached for the object, turning it over a few times to read faint markings that were clearly Alicorn script. Opening the case revealed a few pages of notes, followed by a rectangular glossy black object within. Thaumically, he could feel the magic flow within the object shifting and changing as it seemed to probe the world around it.
“Strange,” he muttered to himself as he touched the object.
“User Identified.” The voice emanated from the artifact in perfect Latin. “Updating registry. Please hold. Error, networks disabled. Adapting … complete.” Lines formed through the glossy tablet glowing a soft blue before shifting to green, then red, and back to blue. “Language identified and translated,” it said in perfect Equish.
“Well, glad to know that wasn’t for nothing.” Grif chuckled.
Pensword’s ears perked and swiveled as he looked over Hammer Strike’s shoulder from his place in the air behind. “This feels very Sci-Fi like. Crazy. You think that contains more information than a normal book could hold? Might it hold a dictionary?”
“Considering it’s meant to be a compendium of all their analyses of the various Pony races, I’d say it’s a safe bet the thing holds hundreds of volumes worth of data, Pensword,” Vital Spark noted. “So, it’ll speak Equish now?” he asked curiously.
“I’m sure that certain parts are bound to be untranslatable.” Hammer Strike frowned. “I’ll have to study this further before handing it off to Daring.” He looked up with a smile. “Thank you all for your efforts. It will take some time before I can give you the results of today, but I’ll keep you all updated.”
“Well, if that's everything, I think I'm going to return home.” Grif yawned. “Be nice to get a warm meal and a soft bed.”
“Could I come, too? I’ve got something I think I should show you in your home, in case you freak out,” Pensword said.
“Pensword, I just spent a few days in a hostile environment finding a location that no one in history has found before. Can it possibly wait?”
“Well, I’d rather not carry the blood of Anubis home with me.”
Grif blinked in dumbfounded silence. “...What?” he finally asked.
Pensword raised the scabbard gingerly and winced as he stared at the hilt. He could see the blood dripping again, though there was no sign of whatever intelligence had struck at him before. “I found this in a similar place, specifically the tomb of Alexander the Great. I wouldn’t have gotten there without the assistance of a Gryphon. I believe you know him well. His name was Thoth.”
Grif’s eyes widened as his breath quickened.
“I told him about you and why I had come. He didn’t question it, and gave me his blessing to deliver it to you.”
“This is real?” Grif walked over and unsheathed the blade in a quick smooth motion.
Pensword flinched at the action as the blood spattered, then gradually dissipated.
“Zarvarian brass, taloned steel blade with zanite coating, just like the warriors of the lost city used to forge, and an—” Grif frowned as he looked over the handle, seeming bothered. “—Alicorn leather handle,” he finally said. His next words were soft and filled with awe. “This is it.”
“I am twice as glad to not be taking that home at all. Still, I fulfilled my promise. You have your blade. Do what you have to, and please … give me a warning if you need me to help out.”
“I don’t need anything else.” Grif smiled, then chuckled. “Just time. I have the jewels, and Avalon is studying. We can construct a focus, if the dwarves can get a large enough piece of quartz.” This time, he laughed. “You don’t know what this means, Pensword. The winds will finally return!” Grif crowed as he held the khopesh aloft victoriously.
Pensword winced as the spectral blood spattered, then dissipated. “Just be careful, Grif. You hold the Gryphon version of the Spear of Destiny. Remember one of the traits of that spear?”
“Well, you won’t have to worry about seeing it anymore,” Grif promised. “Hand me the sheath and I’ll keep it safe.”
Pensword offered the sheath hastily, but respectuflly. “Thank you.” He paused. “Should I be prepared for any dinner at your place? Because this would be…” His eyes widened as the full impact of what was to come landed home. “This is going to be big for the compound, isn’t it?”
“Tomorrow,” Grif told him. “Or possibly the day after. But tonight, the Gryphons must celebrate with the Gryphons.”
Pensword nodded. “I understand. It’s like recovering the first cave for us, or Hurricane’s blade.”
“Exactly. I need to go. There’s a lot to do and little time to do it.” He sheathed the blade and took wing without another word.
Hammer Strike chuckled. “I’ll give him fifteen minutes before he’s back.”
“Why is that?” Pensword asked, “What did you do?”
“Nothing to worry about.” He smiled as he pocketed the artifact before turning to Rarity. “Will you be staying the night, or would you like to head home, instead?”
“I am home, silly,” she said as she kissed him on the cheek. “And I definitely would prefer another night with you.”
Pensword chuckled to himself, “This, I have to see,” he muttered about Grif.
“Would you mind heading toward our room right now?” Hammer Strike asked Rarity. “And sorry, Pensword, but I require the rest of you to leave this room for some time. There’s something I need to do.”
“Don’t keep me waiting too long, darling.” Rarity smiled and kissed him again, then sauntered out of the throne room.
“I assume top secret somethings only you can manage,” Vital said, then sighed. “Come on, Trixie. Let’s get going. Clover will probably be waiting for us to report, anyway.”
Trixie nodded. “Agreed.”
“Fine,” Pensword grumbled. “But I want to know what you did to Grif that’ll have him coming back here,” he insisted as he trotted to the doors.
Once everyone was out of the room, Hammer Strike sighed softly. “Discord,” he called out. “I know you can hear me. Would you kindly come here?”
A tired sigh echoed through the room as a series of off-color paint drops slipped from the ceiling and pooled on the floor before slowly drawing themselves up into a drooping Draconequus. Heavy bags sagged under the chaos spirit’s eyes as fragments of sand and gold dust sifted with every blink. His normally crazy mane hung limply, and his goatee had broken aside into bristled tufts that were far from a proper accentuation. “Do you have any idea how monumentally tired I am right now? One portal of banishment is an easy thing to manage. Four individual portals and ensuring the ties that bind you here hold? I won’t be able to get up to any proper chaos for a week, at least.”
“I know, Discord. I remember last time was not as bad for you, but you had two additional individuals to bring this time.” Hammer Strike nodded. “This time, I have something for you in return.”
“Another task, a special rule, some new form of class to help me become, ‘normal?’” he snarked.
Hammer Strike remained unruffled. “I have been … somewhat unfair in my treatment of you.” He reached into his coat and pulled out a small dark crystal. “If the others have so much faith in you, I will give you a fair chance.” His hooves ignited in thaumic flame before he directed his hoof toward Discord. The crystal in his hooves slowly vanished as it returned to its source.
The bags under Discord’s eyes receded as the gray bristles of his mane darkened to their usual black and stood up straight again. His goatee returned to its typical jagged appearance as lightning flashed and thunder crashed outside. The Draconequus laughed exultantly. “Oh, now that felt good.” His eyes glinted manically. “This doesn’t necessarily mean I trust you either,” he said with a narrow gaze. “But I suppose I can live with a … truce of sorts for now,” he said as he dusted off his fur and let his hand pop off to form a peace sign that hovered before the pair. “Oh, stop that, you. I’m not going that soft just yet.” It wagged a chastising finger in front of his face. “Now don’t you bring Fluttershy into this.” He snatched it and plopped it back onto his wrist. “Honestly, how rude.”
“Know this.” Hammer Strike focused his attention back to Discord. “I am giving you a fair chance. The same applies to you. I do not trust you, and it will be long before I can after what you have done, especially to Conor. Though his life is fine and happy now, he suffered the same fate we had. Do not make me regret this. While I have returned you to your former energy, I can just as easily take it back.”
“You act as if I were unaware of the fact,” Discord said pointedly as a spiked dog collar appeared around his neck, complete with leash. “So, what’s it to be, house arrest, a GPS tracker, perhaps?” he asked as a set of handcuffs and a familiar band with a blinking red light materialized in the air next to him.
“You’re free to go, Discord.” Hammer Strike gave him a soft smirk. “I have my own methods.”
Extended Holiday Chapter 157: Of Tidings and Forebodings Act 29
“You moved me?” Grif growled as he glared at Hammer Strike. “You waited until we were gone, and then you have these ‘new orders’ delivered to my house, and you moved me?”
“I simply had you relocated for your job,” Hammer Strike replied calmly. “Though anything of importance remains in place, due to them being unable to be found. Of course, it’s still your place in the end.”
Grif sighed exasperatedly as his brain saved his mouth the energy by going over how any ensuing argument would go from here, with Hammer Strike winning. Always with Hammer Strike winning. “There’s no way out of this, is there?”
“Why, with the way your family is expanding, things looked to be getting cramped in the near future. So, I have doubts you’ll be able to go back when you’re soon to need the expansion.”
“I was trying to set the example, keep away from putting myself on a pedestal by having some big house.”
“Last I checked, you’re under orders to watch over the cache and remain on notice, thus placing you in a nearby station.” Hammer Strike hummed mischievously. “It’s almost as though you didn’t have a choice.” He slowly smiled as he turned his focus back to Grif.
“You’re too damned clever. You know that, right?” Grif sighed. “What kind of cache are we talking here? Weapons? Food? Strategic resources?”
“All of the above,” Hammer Strike replied as he pulled out a scroll from his coat, holding it out for Grif. “In case of emergency, we were in need of a bunker for civilians and supplies for civilians. I authorized it, and figured my right hand would be perfect for watching over it.”
“I suppose I can’t argue with that,” Grif admitted as he took the parchment. “I take it you’ll have a list of people I should expect to organize civilians, in case they need to be brought down here?”
“All the information you need is within that scroll. Now, last I checked, you haven’t properly established yourself in your new station.”
“I can look into that shortly. Before things get too busy, there are a few things brought to my attention you should see, I think.” Grif retrieved some photos from his bag. “Recently had a cleaning crew in the Gantrithor doing your usual sanitary work. They found these on the walls in one of the lower decks.”
Hammer Strike frowned as he scanned over the photos. “Are these … murals in the bowels of the Gantrithor?”
“Yes. From what my people can tell, some of them are less than a couple of weeks old. Others go back a few months. Now, it could be someone sneaking into that ship; however, there are several storerooms in the lower decks that I haven’t had time to get to since I got on the ship. A lot of unspoilable food is kept down there.”
“They’re empty, aren’t they?”
“The ship was supposed to have been prepared for an emergency takeoff at all times and carry/feed a full battalion. There is no reason to think they would be empty.”
Hammer Strike frowned. “I’ll have to come up with some additional scans for Circlet to work with, connect up a few more sensors and the likes later.”
“Perhaps it may be a case for your new hires?” Grif suggested. “Collector was a rather effective thief himself at one point. He may have some idea how to catch this stowaway.”
“Perhaps.” He hummed. “Yeah, with his ability to remain hidden, he should be able to search the lower levels without giving away his position.”
“Anyway, I have things I need to look into. I thought this required your attention, though.”
“I’ll bring things up to Collector and Oracle, perhaps start equipping them more. Until next time, Grif.”
Grif accepted his dismissal and departed the room to claim his “new assignment.”
The passage was cold and moist as the drafts passed through the structure. Pensword’s legs were all bound by weighted sleeves as he clopped to the designated office. The door opened to reveal a familiar white muzzle and the sheen of a massive pearl. It waved in front of him and glowed briefly, then faded.
“Okay, you’re clean. Get in here, Pensword. We have a lot to do tonight.” Vital Spark turned and flicked his horn to light up the space with cheerful flames. He strode to a stone plinth, where a familiar book waited. He tapped a crystal that had been embedded into the column and the stone turned green.
The Pegasus obeyed and closed the door behind him.
“All right, Pensword. It’s time for us to see how well your homework’s paid off. Did you find a suitable focus to use for thaumic vision?”
Pensword pulled out a thin brass metal frame rimming two lenses. A pair of diamonds had been embedded, one on either side of the frames to provide symmetry. “Here you are.”
Vital levitated the glasses and viewed them scrutinously. “Were the diamonds really necessary?” He leaned in to examine his reflection in the lenses. “And are these crystal? Remember, they’ll need to be able to channel thaumic power.”
“That is what the diamonds are for.” He pointed a feather to one of the stones and tapped it. The lenses darkened. He tapped it again and the lens returned to its original hue. “They’re enchanted glass Twilight made for an experiment. She didn’t have a use for it after, so she let me use them.” He smiled as he darkened the lenses again, then tapped the other gem. A light green glow surrounded the lenses, and a hasty glance through the shaded glass revealed a fully lit up clearing. “Apparently, it’s an old charm they used for the miners, back when wood was scarce after the Windigo invasion. Twilight wanted to recreate it. They should be able to hold up to thaumic energy.”
Vital nodded. “They’ll do. I’m just glad you didn’t go with a more conspicuous metal. The point of these is to avoid attracting attention to what we’re doing, after all.” He handed the lenses back to the Pegasus. “All right, my elderly friend. Dazzle me!”
Pensword put the glasses on and took a deep breath. He reached out, focused as he always did before, then tapped the frames with his hoof. He opened his eyes, then frowned. No glow greeted him. No energies, no colors, just the half dark he had known all his life on Equis and the familiar white face of his friend.
“Problem?” Vital asked.
“Let me try again.” He repeated the action three times, growing more frustrated with each attempt. Finally, he growled and stomped his hoof in aggravation. “What is wrong with me? I know where the energy is. I’ve channeled it before. But now….”
Vital Spark frowned. “Pass them here, Pensword. There’s something I need to check.”
Pensword did so without question. His brow furrowed in confusion, even as anxiety tied his guts in knots.
The Unicorn observed the frames closely, then tapped the edges with a hoof. A light glow passed over the lenses briefly, and Vital Spark laid them on his nose to peer through at the Pegasus. He narrowed his gaze, leaned in for a closer inspection, then paced around his friend slowly and deliberately. The soft tread of his hooves sounded like hammer blows in Pensword’s ears that complemented the rapid beat of his heart.
Something was wrong. The Pony was too silent, his examination too focused. Vital Spark rarely acted so seriously in a casual setting, not even as his teacher.
“What is it? What did you find?”
“Patience, Pensword. Do me a favor. Flap your wings and hover.”
Pensword did as he was told. His wings strained as he propped himself over the floor. His back began to ache after a few minutes while Vital Spark continued his examination. The knots in his stomach and chest strained to the point of snapping when he saw the Unicorn frown.
Still, he had to know. “What is it, Vital? Tell me the truth. Did Earth damage my field?”
“You can drop, Pensword.”
Pensword did so as Vital removed the glasses and passed them to his friend.
“Hold on, Pensword.” Vital Spark quickly tapped the crystal in the plinth to return it to its neutral state. Then he waved his horn and the book disappeared while a series of wards and locks activated over the door. He positioned himself in the middle of the room and Watcher’s pearl began to glow as he drew on the stored energy within it. “We’re going on a little trip.”
“Where?”
“To get a second opinion.”
A flash of blue light went unnoticed in the dead of night.
The entry hall was quiet, and Grif smiled as he slept surrounded by the Gryphonesses he loved high up in the bedroom. The nest they constructed was a hasty one, but it served their purposes well. The floor was made from smooth seamless stained wood. The walls rose and met easily with a curve. A lone fireplace had been built into the corner of the room awaiting the fall and winter to return.
All was well, until his eyes snapped open and his body tensed. Something was different. The wind carried the familiar tingle of magic. He slowly extracted himself from the sleeping forms of his wives. Vigilance and [Vengeance were already waiting by the door. He drew both silently from their sheaths and slipped out the room.
He was down to the main hall in seconds. The shadows in the roof hid his black feathers well. The sheer height and width of the hall provided plenty of opportunity for stealth. The lack of furniture or carpet left the intruders wide open as they clopped over the floor.
“You did call ahead, right?” the first shadow asked in a hoarse whisper. “Because this is not proper, doing this without advance notice.”
“Pensword, this is more important. I need Grif to verify, and time is of the essence.”
“He’s right. You should have sent a message first.” Grif spoke from the shadows as he walked across to them. “This is still a military facility, and coming here like this could have gotten you both in a lot of trouble.”
“I’m sorry, Grif, but I needed a second opinion, and I didn’t want to get Hammer Strike involved unless I was right. Do you have your shades on you?”
“I can get them,” Grif said tiredly. “What's the issue?”
“I need you to look at Pensword’s field, and I need to make sure the issue I found isn’t with the lenses he had made for our lesson tonight.”
“Well, if that’s the case, better to cut out the middleman,” Grif said. “Get behind me, Vital.”
Vital was quick to comply.
“I’ve gotten to the point where I can use thaumic vision safely,” Grif explained as he closed his eyes and concentrated. There was the momentary burning beneath his eyelids before he opened them. He looked at Pensword and his eyes widened. He turned his head carefully to Vital, and then back to Pensword. “Well, now. That is definitely a problem.” He sighed.
“Then my diagnosis is correct?” Vital asked as the light faded from Grif’s eyes.
Grif nodded. “The thaumic field is gone. The only energy is coming from his wings and hooves, where his alichorn is.”
“Will his body be okay?”
“His injuries from before have healed, from what I can tell. If he’s careful not to accrue more, he should be fine. That being said, he won’t survive any more like them. Without the thaumic field amplifying his internal magical field, he’s going to experience less potent magic-based abilities, too. But physically, he should be okay.”
“Then why does Pensword look like he’s about to hyperventilate?”
“Because now his chances of being able to fight a nightmare have dwindled significantly.” Grif sighed and he recited the prophecy as he knew it, both his part and Pensword’s.
Vital sighed. “Oh, Pensword....”
“I really don’t care for the pity. I just need to know how to fix this and get my tools back. This is not good. I went to earth and I lost the field? Can’t it come back? I was working so hard to make it stronger. It was stronger.” His voice cracked. “Why?”
Grif sighed and shook his head. “No, Pensword, it wasn’t stronger. You let it wither to the point where the energy draw from Earth was just too much. As for fixing it, I’m not sure we can. I know I can’t build you a new field. I don’t have the skill. Hammer Strike might know how, but I don’t know if he would do it, even if he could.”
“Then what do you suggest? I was getting very good at controlling thaumic energy. It’s why I got the glasses in the first place. Why? Why did this have to happen now, when I was so close?” His jaw tightened as he grit his teeth. “Am I going to lose my family again?” He growled. “I am working hard, and yet I find myself reaping disaster from Work failures to Mom never being happy with my work from Earth to the surgeries. I can’t even transform properly.” He turned his gaze aside as the tears began to fall. “Why am I always the shipwreck?” he whispered. “I lost my entire family in the Third Gryphon War. Am I really going to lose my daughter? Will I have to live in solitude to keep her safe? Am I supposed to be a part of some Greek tragedy?” His eyes rolled. “I can’t afford to lose her, Grif. I can’t.”
Grif sighed as he took out a piece of paper and scribbled something down on it before sending it with a dragon lighter. “Vital, can you get the kettle? Kitchen’s two doors down. Lets get him some tea and calm him down while we wait.”
“Got any sugar cane sticks?” Vital asked. “I’ve noticed how much those usually help.”
“I think there’s some in the cupboard.” Grif shrugged.
It didn’t take Vital long to get the necessary items and bring them back. A few minutes later, Hammer Strike arrived to the sight of Pensword practically drowning himself in tea. Several fibrous cane stalks littered a platter. The Pony lord looked to everyone for a brief moment, then sighed. “What have I missed?”
“It seems the trip to Earth was too much of a strain on Penswords thaumic field. It’s dead,” Grif explained.
Hammer Strike’s eyes flashed blue for a brief second before he hummed. “I … didn’t anticipate this. At least, not at this point.”
“What do you mean? I was doing my homework day and night, with check ups with Vital on a bi-weekly basis.
“You’ve had lengthy breaks in between those as well, due to events that were mostly out of your control.” Hammer Strike sighed. “Your field has been fluctuating between weak and somewhat stable for nearly a year. I didn’t anticipate it going as such, but I sadly knew this could be an inevitability.”
“What are our options?” Grif asked.
“None, really.” He rubbed the back of his head as he thought. “His magical field was primarily maintained by the thaumic field. If I tried to re-apply a field this early, and late, it would crush his magical field and potentially kill him.”
Grif sighed. “So, it’s just gone, then?”
“Then what do we do?” Vital asked. “We can’t let that thing get at Moon River.”
“What?” Hammer Strike questioned with a raised brow. “What are you going on about? You’re all acting like something’s going to happen, just because his field is dead. He’s still alive.”
Grif sighed and went over the prophecy a second time.
“That’s … problematic.” He frowned.
“Extremely.” Grif nodded his agreement.
“We’ll have to figure something out, then, and plan accordingly.”
“You have ideas?” Grif asked.
“Because I am not about to lose my daughter,” Pensword said.
Hammer Strike hummed for a moment before letting out a soft sigh. “We could attempt to redirect things.” He frowned. “I’d need time to think on it before we try anything, though.”
“Just keep me in the loop, okay?” Pensword begged as he attacked another sugar cane stalk.
“Of course.”
“You know, Hammer Strike, one of the things I will always love about you is just how much of a gentlepony you are. You always insist on walking me back to Ponyville whenever your schedule allows.” Rarity smiled and kissed her husband as they walked through the cobbled streets of the outer portions in the rising city. “Work really has picked up since Spring came, hasn’t it?”
“It certainly has. Last I checked, there were already a number of buildings and shops set up.” He smiled in response. “It won’t be much longer till housing is available for those outside of the ranks.”
“Oh, that’s wonderful! I’m certain Link and Zelda will be happy to have a new home to stay in. It’s all Epona can do to keep them from bouncing all over the place in the interim. I think Link wants to join your guard one day.” She giggled. “Wouldn’t he just look adorable in that Nightmare Night costume posing with a sword by the Rohirrim?”
Hammer Strike gave a faint chuckle. “Things are going to get interesting around here, once more merchants start moving in….”
“By the way, just how many Dwarves do you have working on these projects? I saw the Demos working on foundations, but I think some of their cousins may have been helping. I … honestly don’t know how they manage to do so many things at once.”
“They keep changing out the numbers, to be honest.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Doesn’t help that they keep taking projects to work on here to assist us, so they keep adding more to the city and swap out those who finish their parts. The walls are nearly complete, and I’m pretty sure they’ll take a lot of damage before even showing signs of it.”
“Considering what I saw of your hammer, I’m not surprised. They’re very good at their craft, aren’t they?”
“Remarkably good at it,” Hammer Strike agreed.
“By the way, just how large did you want to make the market district, anyway?”
“Decent scale. It’s to give those of all backgrounds and races a means with which to trade with any other of any kind.”
“Even races we haven’t had contact with yet?”
“Not currently. Or at least the paperwork hasn’t reached me yet.”
“I suppose it’s only a matter of time before those ones come, too. You are a rather large figure in Equis’ history, after all.”
“Hopefully, things will liven up in a positive manner with the influx of merchants and goods. Though now the guard is being scheduled on much larger scale routes.”
“The better to steal the good ones from the guard before the nobles spoil them,” Rarity said with a mischievous giggle.
The rest of their journey went unmolested. The cool night air and clear skies left a whole galaxy of stars painted across the sky in bands dyed by the silvery light of the moon and the gasses and debris that floated far off in the vast body of space. After a prolonged goodbye and a few kisses for extra measure, Hammer Strike returned to the city again as he pondered the day’s events and the future that was yet to rise.
As Hammer Strike passed by one of the smaller buildings, the door opened and an aged dark-coffee-colored stallion exited carrying a large rectangular sign. He was wearing a black apron and had a thin body, yet surprisingly it didn’t seem emaciated.
“Finishing preparations?” Hammer Strike questioned with a small grin.
The stallion looked up at the voice. He wore a black pair of thin frame glasses. His mane was deep black, despite his age. And while his maneline was receding in the front, the back was on the longer side, stopping just above his neck. His mane joined a thin set of sideburns that followed his jawline to form a small beard. “Oh, hello.” His voice was perfectly even as he seemed to take Hammer Strike in at a glance. “Yes, I’m just hanging this sign, and I think I'll have it ready.”
“It’ll be nice having a Café near the castle. I’m sure you’ll have plenty of customers.”
“It will be nice to get out of Canterlot. Ponies have no taste there,” the stallion agreed. “I’m Coffee Karē.”
“Glad to match the name with the face.” Hammer Strike held out his hoof. “A pleasure to meet you.”
“Same.” The older stallion lowered the sign and took the hoof.
“I hope you’re prepared. The guard have been eagerly awaiting a Café.” He chuckled.
Coffee laughed.“I look forward to it. Guard were pretty much the only business I had in Canterlot, and most of them went to Donut Joe, anyway.”
“Thankfully, it appears there are no other Cafés or coffee shops opening anytime in the near future, so you should have an easy time in the formation of the city. Is it safe to assume you’ve purchased a house as well, or are you renting a room in one of the hotels?”
“I had a small place built above the Café. I don't need a lot, not since my daughter moved out, so it’s fine.”
This seemed to give the older stallion pause. “You’ve met my daughter?”
“I met her and Collector not too long ago. And after some discussions, they’re both working for me.” He chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck. “They help out a lot with my paperwork, so they stay well informed.”
“So, you’re the one who’s been keeping the guard off their tail.” Coffee smiled. “Thank you. They’re good kids.”
“I know. Looking into their case further, it doesn’t seem like they’d resort to some of the claims put against them.”
“I doubt they would, but, well, you’ve obviously read the colt’s file. Something like that never quite fades.”
“If it works against someone in Canterlot, it’ll be abused, yeah.” Hammer Strike sighed. “Around here, though, I think if someone caught wind of it, they’d pat him on the back and ask if the other stallion deserved it.”
The stallion chuckled. “It’s true what they say, then. Unity’s the city for new starts?”
“Most certainly is.” He smiled. “I hope you have a pleasant stay. I’ll be sure to tell them you’ve arrived.”
“Come down sometime and I’ll brew you a cup of my special blend,” Coffee offered.
Hammer Strike smiled. “I’ll see to it.”
The Bladefeather compound was packed, due to the events of moving. Grif had been unable to announce to the family about the events from Earth. Today, he was to rectify that. And as such, he’d called every gryphon he could feasibly call back without causing mayhem. He’d even called Tall Oak and little Willow to the compound, which had resulted in Big Mac coming as well. He’d made sure to position them up at the front as the crowd was slowly prodded and jostled into something resembling order. Grif stood in front of the Bladefeather emblem and Kel’leam’s shield, both of which had been freshly polished and shined by Grif himself. Avalon, Shrial, and Gilda stood at the front slightly closer to him than the rest while the children were kept occupied by Thalia and Kalima in the front row. The council members stood behind the emblem.
“Friends, family, Bladefeathers!” A quiet fell over the assembled Gryphons like a heavy blanket. “For millennia and times lost to us from before the Discordian era, we have been cut off from the Winds. Those who filled our wings with the warmth of wisdom and pride, those who gave us our honor when our mother Faust left us to languish. We have since lost the weapons that our ancestors wielded. We have been divided, and our streets have run with the blood of millions who have died in this era of chaos.” He looked around to the reactions. The crowd seemed between annoyed and saddened at being reminded of how far they had fallen as a species.
“Well, today we mark in our history the beginning of the end of this era of chaos.” That got more then a few heads perked up. “Today, I announce the start of the return of the gods and the twilight that signals the end of this dark period.” Grif stopped momentarily, unsure why he’d used the term twilight. It had seemingly popped itself there without his consent. Putting himself past it, he smiled. “I have gathered the topaz.” Grif laid the buckler in front of the Bladefeather symbol. “My rightful prize of conquest from the deposing of a traitor. And the sapphire.” He laid the belt down in front of the buckler. “Gifted to me by the head of house Farflyer as his daughter’s dowry. I also have the twin emeralds.” He took the daggers which he’d taken back from Little Willow and Tall Oak, who’d happily returned them to him, and laid them one on each side of the topaz upon the belt. “Given to me by my wife Shrial, formerly of house Bloodfeather and rightful inheritor. And finally, the ruby.” His hands shook as he laid his bow across the others carefully. “Gifted to me by my father upon his deathbed. If there is a warrior here who would dispute my claim to the five stones, let him step out and challenge me before the assembly.”
Grif waited. There would be no challenge. This, he already knew, but it felt right to leave the matter open for a short time. When no Gryphon was forthcoming, he nodded.
“The stones are only part of it. Every cub knows you cannot undo what's been done without the traitor's blood!” a heckler called from the crowd.
Grif smiled. “That is true, and would be the major issue here. But on my recent trip to Earth, I found out that the Thestral Pensword of house Pen, who many of you will confirm is able to interact with spirits, was led to this.” Grif unsheathed a shining curved blade and held it aloft. “The khopesh of the warrior Thoth, willingly gifted to me through Pensword in proxy of Thoth himself. And according to the Thestral, the traitor’s blood is still very much present on the blade. My family, for the first time in our history, all the pieces are assembled.” In a fluid flourish of motion, he stabbed the blade into the stone of the emblem. No one noticed the light flash as Grif thaumicaly locked the blade in place.
“Later tomorrow, Avalon will be checking for any willing volunteers to see if they have the gift. Then she will begin working toward preparing for the ritual immediately. We have already contacted the dwarves about a piece of quartz large enough to fit our purposes, and I would ask the craftsmen around you to help in the creation of the medallion we will need. Tomorrow, our work begins. But tonight, my brothers, we celebrate. Bring out the food! Bring out the wine! The era of chaos is ending!”
With that, Grif threw his head back and crowed. The council crowed, his family crowed, and, in a massive mayhem of noise, the Bladefeather compound lit up with the crows of victory. Word would begin spreading immediately. For the first time in who knew how long, Gryphons had hope.
Pensword wasn’t sure if he liked the situation. He could handle the yelling, the clicking, the squawks, the bartering, and the begging. But this, this was much worse. “Preston, do I have any meetings at all?”
“No, this is your Gryphon time,” Preston called out from the front office.
“Are there any meetings I can crash?” he asked a little more pointedly. He’d already reorganized his office twice. He went through his paperwork faster than normal, even. Everything was either in the out basket or filed away in the correct folder.
Preston walked in a few seconds later. “What’s wrong? You seem more upset than usual.”
“They’re not here. The Gryphon’s aren’t bothering me tonight.”
“That is odd,” Preston agreed. “Your room is usually filled with emotions this time every night.”
“Not when half of them are celebrating, cheering, and spreading the news while the other half are packing their bags and trying their hardest to settle debts and move on. Tonight, even Dakota is taking a break.”
Before they could say anything more, a familiar voice piped in shrilly. “Daddy get book?” There was Moon River staring up from the bottom of his desk.
Pensword didn’t flinch. He was used to the filly’s habit of stealth by now. “I have your book, but that is for this morning. I wanted to make sure it was something for both of us to enjoy.”
Moon River’s eyes widened with glee. “Nighty Night?” she asked.
Pensword frowned. “You mean Night Terror?”
“Nighty Night,” Moon River replied with more emphasis. “No Terror. Fun. Funny. Joy.” She gesticulated with her hooves, at a loss for words. “Nighty Night.”
Pensword smiled. “Has she heard that name yet?”
Moon River blushed. “No….”
“You should tell her, then.” Pensword grinned. “She might like it.”
The foal beamed. “Okay, Daddy. Nighty Night hears story, too!”
Pensword frowned. The request wasn’t something unheard of. He just hoped his wives would let Night Terror leave for her own bed after the story was done. After all, the courtship had only just begun.
Vital Spark glared at the practice dummy, then shouted as he raced forward with hunga munga in his magical grip. He skidded on his knees to duck an imaginary blow and struck with the blade while simultaneously pulling his staff out to block an invisible blow from above. Then he drove the staff on a diagonal to divert the imaginary weapon and used the friction to adjust his momentum. The air whistled as the hunga munga spun and embedded itself into the dummy’s back.
“Not my best, but I suppose it’s not too bad,” he said to himself.
“A little sloppy with the last two blocks. A Unicorn trained in advanced spear tactics could have overcome it in four different ways, two of them using that momentum against you.” A familiar Unicorn with mixed fur and chitin stepped out of the shadows.
“I was imagining a particular thrust when I blocked. Your spear practitioners probably could have countered the block, but then I could easily have redirected their counter as well. It’s a matter of real life application versus the theory.” He sighed. “Would that I had a sparring partner.” Then he smiled. “Then again, I may have one ready and waiting. Care to join me for a match, Silver Spear?”
Silver Spear chuckled. “Are you sure you can handle me, Vital Spark? I’m not an invalid anymore.”
“You make it sound like I was looking for a handicap,” Vital countered with a smirk as he retrieved his blade. “You haven’t even seen how I handle a rungu.”
“Oh? A Zebrican weapon. Not many can say they know how to use one. Are you sure you can handle it?”
The Unicorn smirked as he hovered the triple-bladed hunga munga in front of his face. “That’s classified, Silver. But I’m sure we can work something out.”
Silver Spear smirked as he withdrew a practice spear from the rack. “I like your spirit. Let’s see if you can back it up.”
“Wait a minute.” Vital raised his voice. “If anyone wants to place bets, now would be a good time!”
Several hooves shuffled in the background and the shadows, followed by hasty whispers.
Vital Spark nodded primly and polished a hoof against his chest fur. “Now then, one final question. Did you want us to include combat magic or stick solely to skill with our weapons?”
“Weapons only. We can use magic to control our weapons, but not to cast. That kind of duel would make the match go too long, and neither of us can afford to lose that much time.”
Vital smiled. “Sounds good to me. Just a moment.” His horn flashed as a thin shimmering veil wrapped around the blades. “There. Enchantment to make sure there’s no lethal cuts. They can connect, but won’t actually break our skin or chitin.” He stepped back and braced himself as he faced his opponent. “Ready?”
Silver Spear launched using his hind hooves and started with a piercing jab. Vital was swift to evade, and caught the haft of the spear between the tines of his hunga munga.
“Careful, Silver Spear. A colt’s liable to lose his weapon that way.” Vital smirked as he slid his weapon down the shaft and removed it. “Dirty trick, though. This is a sparring match, after all.”
“In actual combat, the opponent doesn’t respond,” Silver Spear countered as he set his spear again. This time, Vital Spark took the initiative and charged with a look of grim intent. Silver sprung back from the attack with practiced ease. “Good. Good. You’re not so green, after all.”
“I’ve been practicing,” Vital returned as he circled Silver Spear. The warrior reacted in kind.
Silver lashed out with a quick one-two blow with his spear. The butt clancked against the stout wood of Vital’s staff. The Unicorn barely managed to get it out in time.
“Ah, the feinting game, is it?” Vital smirked. “Let’s play!”
Silver Spear thrust his weapon forward and watched as Vital countered to slide the blow aside. Silver Spear countered by using his own magical aura to send the wooden end of the weapon flying toward Vital’s face. A swift strike countered the attempt and nimbly balanced Silver Spear’s rebounds like a teeter totter.
“All right, let’s test your control,” Silver Spear said as the spear unleashed a flurry of blows a regular Pony could never unleash on their own. The loud staccato of wood striking wood echoed and rebounded through the training arena. Vital Spark panted as the blows continued to rain down on him. This was more than mere telekinesis. This was the magic of a special talent at work.
“Clever,” Vital growled. He waited patiently and timed the frenzy of blows. Then he braced himself for the inevitable. His staff shifted just slightly too far along the padded spear’s shaft, and the end struck at Vital’s shoulder. The Unicorn grunted and seized the weapon in his hooves as his hunga munga zipped after the noble.
Silver Spear moved to the side to avoid the hit while pushing the spear into Vital’s side. “You are really good. I must have been out longer than I thought.” He panted from the exertion.
Vital grinned. “You’re not so bad yourself. But you might want to take a look behind you.” A large polished ornate wooden club hovered in the air directly near the base of Silver Spear’s neck. One good whack, and it would be lights out. “What do you say we call it a draw?”
“A draw sounds good.”
The two reclaimed their weapons and Vital smirked as they approached the weapons rack. “So, how much do you think the newbies are going to hate us for the coin Bookie just conned them out of?”
“They’ll be smarter. A few lost coins makes any soldier a wise Pony. Although you might want to keep a sharp ear out. It seems the commander still can’t lose a poker game.”
“It’s a good thing I don’t gamble then, isn’t it?” He chuckled. “All that exercise really works up an appetite, though. How about you join me in the mess hall for a meal, Silver? I’d like to get to know you better, and combat only tells you so much.”
“If you don’t mind me snacking on yours, too.”
Vital grinned. “Steal at your own peril, Mister Spear. To me, food is sacred.”
Hammer Strike sighed to himself as he finished working on his current stack of paperwork. The brief break had left him somewhat behind on some papers, and Silent Collector and Oracle could only do so much alongside Tower and Blast Shield.
He gave a brief chuckle. Despite hiring them for other purposes, such as keeping an eye on them, they proved quite valuable in terms of work. The duo even seemed to enjoy their work, probably due to it being significantly better than a cell, but it was useful to him nevertheless.
It also helped that they appeared quite adept with combat. Well, Collector was. Oracle was clearly the brains of their operations, given how much she could multitask with perfect efficiency. Collector was abnormally quiet in his movement, leading to a few times where Hammer Strike didn’t register him until Collector was within ten feet of his door.
Besides that, Collector was very perceptive and agile, especially for a Unicorn of his nature. His reaction times alone gave Hammer Strike some surprise, as he could react to arrows and bolts flying in his direction and respond accordingly, dodging efficiently, albeit with some added flare.
Their skills were quite useful in case of emergencies. Or in Hammer Strike’s case, they were useful for some of his later plans. While Grif and others of the Gryphon Compound were spectacular at hiding their presence, they had the trouble of being unable to blend into the crowd in areas like Canterlot. Collector had the air of a noble when he wanted to, able to put the act up front within a moment.
Hammer Strike hummed aloud as he thought to himself. With everything as it currently was, perhaps he would take some time to get to know them better. While passing conversations were quite common, it didn’t give him a full set to work with. If something came up that required him that wasn’t deadly, perhaps he’d invite them to come along. It would certainly assist him in figuring them out further.
If Coffee was anyone to go off of, they were certainly unique.
Pensword was busy cradling his noggin with a wing. A band of unaligned Gryphons had come to the compound, and he was speaking with an elected representative on the spot. “So, tell me again, why do I have thirty Gryphon adults and twenty cubs meeting with the Thestrals and myself and not Grif Bladefeather?”
“We heard there might be a contract coming up for stonework.”
“All over the city, from the Gryphons, the Dwarves love apprentices to teach some of the less dangerous stuff. The regular Ponies need stone workers to build civilian dwellings. But you came to us, to the Thestrals, and specifically the High Duke of Ys. Why?”
“Because you need warehouses, and you’ll find no finer stone work here than what we can offer.”
“And what will you plan when the contract is over? I feel I should tell you that we usually work with the Bladefeathers, if necessary. Why should we go with you over them?”
“Because we’ll be cheaper in the long run. Bladefeathers are mercenaries first. That means they’ll charge surcharges for all their work. The fee we give you will be a flat rate, no matter how the project goes.”
Pensword pondered the wisdom of the bid. He had yet to go through the process of hiring the Bladefeathers. “And what is to keep you and the Bladefeathers from fighting? Or a project from being abandoned? These warehouses are to be used to bring in more commerce. Are you all stonemasons? If not, what will the other Gryphons do while the stonemasons work?”
“Were all masons and apprentices,” the spokesman said coldly. “And we never abandon a project.”
Pensword narrowed his gaze speculatively. “And would you be willing to teach those who ask?”
“For a fair price,” the Gryphon countered. “Work is one thing. Training is another.”
“I think that can be agreed upon. We’ll consider that possibility when it comes. What do you see as a fair price for working on the warehouses?”
“A hundred and forty bits a week.”
“Ninety-five bits,” Pensword countered.
“We couldn’t feed everyone on ninety-five. One-thirty. That's more than fair.”
“And some of the feeding is done by hunting in the forest. One hundred bits, and we’ll help with weapon repairs.”
“Hundred and twenty five. We’re already offering you a discount because materials are close by.”
“Hundred ten. We’re still starting out. The city is not yet rich, and it is coming out of the Thestral Coffers. You get to pick your small section to even build on for your homes.”
The Gryphon spit in his palm and held it out.
Pensword nodded, spat onto his hoof, and held it out. “Then we have an accord.”
The Gryphon took the hoof and they shook.
“I will introduce you to the leaders of the project. They can tell you more of what is needed. We’ll see about arranging temporary housing for you as well, until a more permanent solution can be considered.”
The Gryphon nodded and signaled the others to follow.
Vital Spark breathed deeply and sighed as he sat in meditation on a fluffy pillow. “Oh, mighty universe, speak to me,” he said as he raised his forehooves and smirked at the snort he heard from the other side of the room. He opened one eye and smiled lovingly at the mare of his dreams. “Made you laugh.”
“Hush. We’re supposed to be practicing channeling as conduits, remember?” Trixie said and smiled helplessly.
“Well, from what I’ve seen, there are different methods for different people. In theory, anyone can become a conduit, though how much power they can channel and interpret varies. There were quite a few people back on Earth who claimed to have that gift. And if they could manage it there, then I can only imagine how potent the ability must be like here in a world that’s saturated with mana.”
“And what about you?” Trixie asked.
Vital shrugged. “At closest, I was probably what a lot of people might call a sensitive. If I did act as a conduit, it was rarely for things there. It usually had to do with other worlds I conceived in my head. Or maybe they were real, and I was just watching things unfold. Who knows?” He shrugged again. “I can tell you the feeling is pretty cool, though. Sort of a universal tingle that reaches deep down, and you know there’s something flowing into you. Was that what it felt like when you … you know, came back?”
“I don’t really know,” she answered and tapped her chin thoughtfully. “It happened so fast. I don’t really recall what it was like.”
“I guess that makes sense. You did basically get brought back from the grave. A lot of the time, people tend to forget whatever they may experience on the other side, or so I’ve been told.” He smiled and sidled up to his wife. “You know, Clover never stipulated we had to try the project alone.” He nuzzled her on the neck, then blew gently in her ear as he gazed amorously at her. “What do you say we … collaborate?”
“Sounds tempting.” She chuckled.
“Well, I could grow a pair of horns by my ears, if that’ll help me look more devious.” He winked at her, then kissed her forehead.
“I think you have enough of those already,” she teased.
“Oh, so you noticed, did you?” He wiggled his brow playfully.
She laughed. “Quit trying to be charming.”
“What about bewitching? Is that out of bounds?”
She kissed him. “We’ll talk.”
“Good. Just as long as Murphy doesn’t enter into the occasion. I’m fine with a little bromance, but a colt needs some alone time with his mare, you know.” He kissed her back. “And it is beautiful tonight.” He kissed her again. “So are you.”
Grif would have been the first to admit he had not foreseen the meeting request that had been brought to him by a scout that morning, or he probably would have expected it to be a trap. But here he sat at his desk looking across to the mercenary leader who had walked into his compound with little more than a single knife.
“Hello again, Twitch. It’s been a while,” Grif noted.
“It really has.” Twitch smiled. “Sorry, but there never was a contract in the area. Of course, nobody could really afford it either.”
“Well, naturally, I imagine you’d charge a hefty surcharge for entering my territory, just like I would for yours.” Grif nodded. “Would you like a drink or something?”
“Tempting as that offer is, I think I’ll wait.”
“So, why did you want to see me? I haven’t heard of any fighting between our people yet.”
“As if you don’t know.” Twitch chuckled before his expression dropped. “Money’s beginning to run tight in Canterlot. And while I love dealing with the other groups, I need to change track before they attempt to bring me down with them.”
“Friends of yours no longer have the deep pockets?” Grif smirked. “Just what are you offering?”
“Well, I figured an established Gryphon, such as yourself, could use some assistance behind the scenes. Yes, you’ve got muscle, but I haven’t caught any wind of you dabbling in doing things from the shadows.” He chortled. “Apart from your own personal activity, that is.”
“I could always use some more blades in the dark, this is true.” Grif nodded. “What's to keep them from ending up in my back, though?”
“Because all I have left are the ones I trust.”
“Guessing some of them at least have families, and you’re running out of safe houses for them?” Grif asked.
“We would have been fine if those nobles didn’t start changing how they dealt with each other,” he growled. “Too many uncertainties. And when members start growing light in the purse....”
Grif rose to his feet slowly and moved to his filing cabinet. The steady flick of parchment fluttered through the air. “Well, I’m sure we can work something out. That being said, I don’t think we’ll be adding you to the clan. I’d rather you keep your vote incase the four of us ever have to meet again. That being said, you understand why I can't take you at your word.” He pulled out a sheet of paper, returned to the desk, and set the contract before Twitch. “This is something new I’ve been working on, a type of magical contract, just to keep everything safe between us. I can’t alter it or the terms, so don’t worry about that part. You’re welcome to read it, but it’s pretty basic. You and your men agree to a few simple rules. You don’t raise weapons to me, my people, Hammer Strike, or his people. You don’t take jobs from people on a list. In return, you get a salary, a bonus on successful jobs done, and a guarantee for the protection of your non-combatants.” Grif slid it over. “Signed in blood, if you would.”
Twitch didn’t even bother reading it as he nicked his talon and signed. “Better than I was anticipating.”
“And what were you anticipating?”
“I may be considered unstable, but I’m no fool. It was either you accepted my offer or I wouldn’t be walking out of here. Didn’t expect, well, the idea of a salary … or protection.”
“Twitch, you realize if things don’t change, our species could be extinct in less than two centuries?” Grif asked.
“I suppose that would be bad for business.”
“You may be unstable, but you have a reputation for getting a job done and avoiding unnecessary collateral damage. Mostly because that would mean people saw you, but still. There is value in that. Killing you would be a waste of talent.”
“Aw, stop. You’ll make me blush.” Twitch began to laugh. “All right then, boss, when do you want to meet the remains?”
“Sundown. It’ll give me a chance to gather up the few Black Tips I have working around here. I’m sure your boys and they will find a lot to talk about.”
Twitch gaped briefly, then regained his wits and shrugged. “Never hurts to find a new perspective.”
Rarity’s squeal of delight Carried all the way out from Ponyville. It rang like a nagging fly in the Demos’ ears, then in everypony else’s as the mare galloped closer. A dust cloud showed on the horizon, followed by the familiar purple mane. Her clearance badge was already flashing in the air as she approached to signal the outer gate. The inner gate soon followed as every guard in the vicinity flinched. A few moments later, she burst through her husband’s door and into his office.
Hammer Strike blinked a few times, holding his quill still as he was mid-sentence. After a second, he placed it down and returned his attention to the mare. “I … yes? Sorry, I wasn’t expecting you over so soon.”
Rarity levitated a large scroll with the seal of a mare in a gown holding her head high. “I can’t believe it, I can’t believe it, I simply cannot believe it!” She pranced excitedly in place as she unfurled the scroll for her husband to read.
Hammer Strike read over the scroll before letting out a hum. “Oh, now? Congratulations on the invite.”
“It’s only the major fashion event of the year, darling. Just imagine what it could do for my business. Real exposure across all of Equestria!” She squealed again. “Oh, I can hardly wait. But I have to ask. Will you be free to come support me at the debut?”
He smiled. “I actually should be.”
“Oh, excellent. You, the girls, oh, and of course we’ll need to invite the others. And I’ll need to prepare a list of gifts to bring back for the troops as well. Do you think Grif and his wives will want to come? I hear there may be some equipment for magical channeling featured as part of the display, and there are even some Gryphon fashion designers coming to feature armor pieces.”
“I can pass the invitation along, though I’m unsure on if they’ll accept. Last I checked in, Grif was busy with some … reorganization.”
“You mean the new station you gave him?”
“Correct.”
“How is he settling in? He didn’t put up too much of a fuss, I hope.”
“I gave him little room for a valid argument.”
“So, it’s mostly his pride?”
“Something else.” Hammer Strike shook his head. “Anyway, how long do we have until the trip?”
“The competition is in nine days. That gives us a week to prepare and a day to travel and set up. Oh, it’s going to be simply marvelous!” She beamed at her husband, then leaned in and kissed his cheek. “Thank you.”
“I’ll check in with Grif and the others later.” He smiled. “Since you’re here, would you like some tea?”
Rarity fluttered her lashes and giggled flirtatiously. “Oh, yes.”
Commander Pensword strode through the Thestral settlement dressed in his Ursa robes and carrying a string of Hatchets. The Gryphon contractors were already getting side projects. He counted no less than six homes undergoing renovations replacing the temporary wooden structures with larger stone construction. Some homes were being combined into larger structures. The only building not seeing renovation was the longhouse. However, due to the upkick in aggressive invasions, a temporary structure was being mapped out with sticks and twine to protect the property until the dwarves finished the city’s walls.
Arrows were being carved, fletching added, and the scent of tanning chemicals drifted on the air. He frowned. At this rate of expansion, he might need to see about getting permission for farther expansion. There was also the need for more space to train the young to hunt. The Everfree Forest was for the most experienced. He would need to arrange zoning or clearance of some sort to create hunting camps in White Tail Woods. “Yet another request to file,” he muttered and shook his head.
“It is humbling, is it not? And perhaps a little overwhelming.” The rumbling growl of the bear spoke from his side.
“It is,” Pensword agreed. “Equestria has come a long way from the Third Gryphon War.” He opened his eyes to look to the Bear, happy to see him clear as day. It seemed his gift this time was not affected.
“The mantle of leadership is a difficult one to bear. Be careful not to be crushed by the weight,” Dakota warned. Then he smiled. “But I am not here for dark forebodings or cryptical doomsayings. I’ve come to inform you that you’ll be leaving this place for a time. You will travel to one of the large cities, where you will speak with the father of the one whom you are courting.”
“So, I finally get to confront Blueblood again. He hasn’t been answering any of my letters. I wondered when I would have the opportunity to circumvent his stonewalling. I wish I could have met him in Blueblood Manor, but it is of no concern now. I’ll take Night Terror with me as well, and Fox Feather. Lunar Fang needs to oversee some of the early foals blessings, so I won’t be able to bring her.” He sighed. “I hope it all turns out well.”
“I am sure it will,” the bear said.
Pensword nodded. “I suppose I should head back to continue my training.”
Dakota bowed his head. “As you choose. Tread carefully, Pensword. And remember my words.”
“I will.”
Vital Spark frowned as he looked over his summoning manual. “So, if I’m going to succeed at forming the contract, I either need someone who’s already formed the contract to summon the spirit or wait for a time when the veil is thin enough to converse and conjure on my own power,” he mused. Aria chirped and stroked her beak gently over his muzzle. He chuckled. “Guess I know which of the two choices you like best.”
He frowned and ran his hoof over the text. “I’ll definitely need to see about finding someone who can help me locate some quality gems, though. And since the dwarves are so busy working on the defenses, I’ll probably need to ask somepony else.” He tapped his chin pensively as he gazed down on the diagram for the summoning ritual. “I wonder what would happen if I were to form the summoning circle out of my offering,” he mused. “It could prove an interesting necklace for her to wear…”
Aria squawked, then fluttered to Vital’s wardrobe and circled it.
“What is it, girl?”
She clawed at the knob with her talons and flapped in front of the door. A few seconds later, the door opened under the Unicorn’s instruction. The young cryophoenix snatched a familiar red polo shirt in her beak and flew over to her partner.
“Okay, so you’re giving me my shirt, why, exactly?”
Aria rolled her eyes and let Vital Spark take the shirt, then settled on the floor and preened her feathers into a flowing style as she hopped around with a puffed chest and eyes made luminous by her icy nature. She gave her head a toss and her feathers along her crest swayed perfectly as she fluttered her eyes at him.
“I’m going to assume you’re pretending to be somepony,” Vital said.
Aria fixed him with a deadpan stare.
“And I know that look well enough from everyone else to know you think I should’ve gotten it right off the bat.”
The avian nodded and hopped to her adopted parent, then promptly pecked him hard on the forehead, followed by an authoritative flap of the wing motioning toward the garment again.
“Okay, so it has to do with the garment and somepony who cares about flirting shamelessly and looking good?”
Aria nodded just once.
“... You want me to go see Rarity, don’t you?”
Aria blinked and mounted onto her perch without so much as a head bob.
“Young lady, you are spending far too much time with Clover for your own good.”
The cryophoenix chuckled to itself.
Vital rolled his eyes. “Fine, with some role model who’s having a bad influence on you. Better?”
Aria didn’t deign him with a reply.
“If this is just the beginning, I shudder to picture how you’ll act when you reach your teenage years.”
Aria flicked her tail dismissively and flew out the window to leave Vital Spark to his own devices.
Vital sighed helplessly. “Kids.”
Grif watched the scene unfolding quietly. As he’d said, Avalon had previously made her way through the compound testing Gryphons for the gift of evoking. Of the ones she found, she had cut it down to the youngest of them, no older than twenty, to make learning easier. From that group, she’d asked for volunteers, which had cut the number down further. Of the four hundred or so Gryphons now living in the compound, only twenty were undergoing training.
The room had been a spare, added into the construction of the main clan building just in case. Tables had been set up across it with containers holding pieces of quartz, fastenings of various metals, and natural components ranging from feathers of songbirds to burnt twigs and wood chips. Grif watched proudly as Avalon dutifully walked her class through the process of constructing foci. He was amazed to watch her putting components together on her demo piece with such grace and accuracy.
“Now, there is something you all need to know about the art. As I have said previously, the power of the focus allows us to call upon the elements and unlock those aspects within our magical fields.” She held up her focus. “The quality of the ingredients will increase the potency of the magic that can be invoked without straining the focus. However, walking the path of the evoker is much like walking the path of a contract. So long as you remain worthy of that contract, your potential will be vastly greater. Should any of you break that contract, however, you will find your abilities become weaker, and will require more of you joining forces to achieve your goals. This is one reason why the evokers of old were able to be overthrown by the Equestrians.”
Grif gave a gentle knock, figuring this may be as good a time to interrupt as any.
“Well well, the prodigal student returns,” Avalon joked, then motioned to Grif. “Everyone, I’m sure there’s no need to introduce my husband. What can we do for our fine clan leader today?”
“As much as I hate to interrupt this lesson, I was wondering if I could borrow you for a minute?” Grif returned.
Avalon raised a curious brow, but nodded and looked sternly at her students. “You are to select a core piece for the first focus you wish to create. There will be no further action on your parts, understood? The requisite material on the affinity for each of the pieces I’ve assembled can be found on the sheets in front of you. When I return, I expect you to each have settled on one specific core. We will build many foci, so don’t worry about it being flashy this time. This is merely to practice the theory.” She then approached her husband, followed him out, and closed the door behind them. “All right, Grif, what is it?”
“Hammer Strike just informed me that Rarity is heading out to a fashion contest in Manehattan within the next week, and she wanted to know if the family could come. Gilda’s decided to stay home. Shrial’s decided to come. I needed to know what you’re doing.”
“That depends. Will Cheshire be willing to help or will Gilda be alone?”
“You know Cheshire well help.” He chuckled.
She smirked. “And will the rest of the compound be able to take it? You know the kind of chaos she can brew when she puts her mind to it.”
“Last I checked, that son of hers is keeping her busy.” He smirked. “Besides, it’s a short trip. We’ll be gone three days at maximum.”
“Three days maximum. Now why does that sound so familiar?” Avalon mused as she tapped her beak cheekily and smiled.
He grinned as he leaned in and nipped her ear gently. “Give us plenty of time to work on the next one,” he whispered.
Avalon blushed heavily as her wings flapped out involuntarily. “Grif! You did that on purpose!” Then she laughed and cradled his beak in her talons to draw him in. “Oh, how I love you.” And then she kissed him.
“I love you, too,” he said after they parted. “So, that’s a yes?”
Avalon smiled. “Mais oui.”
“Merci.” Grif returned the gesture with a bow and a kiss to her hand. “Now I have preparations to make, and you have a class to teach.”
“True. It’s time to make some magic.” She winked, then turned and sashayed back into the classroom. “See you tonight, mon cher.”
Extended Holiday Chapter 158: New Unity Takes Manehattan Act 29
Manehattan was unique among Pony cities, partially because the metropolis of concrete and glass wasn’t actually on land at all. The entirety of the city was actually slightly into the water itself. As one of Equestria’s densest populated cities, it boasted one of the more accepting and open-minded communities, despite the strong Earth-Pony-based origins. Be it business, technology, fashion, or theater, the city was the height of culture and rivaled Canterlot for the title of Equestria's finest city. It also boasted the largest airship dock, capable of handling any sized airship.
Grif gave a dry chuckle as he threw the tourist pamphlet that had described the city to the side. “We’ll see about that.”
The weather for Manehattan had been ordered for sunny and calm that day. As such, the sudden intense gale that blew across the city from the direction of the airship with an accompanying crackle and boom of snapping out of speed had been completely unexpected. The Gantrithor gained stares from civilians, rich travelers, and seasonal airdock workers alike as it drifted into place beside the docks and proceeded to occupy five separate docking bays for itself. Mooring lines were thrown down from the deck to the docks as a mix of Gryphons and Pegasi descended to secure them. As the semi-irate dockmaster stomped toward the ship followed by a few guards and some of his assistants, the side door opened and the gangplank lowered to allow for disembarkation.
“What in Celestia’s name is going on here?” the stallion barked irately at one of the workers. “I demand to speak to your ship’s captain immediately. This is positively unacceptable!”
“I couldn’t agree more,” Grif spoke as he disembarked.
“Taking up this many docks requires specialized permission, Captain. At least, I assume you are the captain of this vessel?” the master said as he motioned to the Gantrithor. “Any such ships from Gryphonia must call ahead for proper clearance. If we hadn’t had these spaces open, your ship could have caused unprecedented damage!”
“And yet your pamphlets claim your docks can accommodate any size airship,” Grif said nonchalantly. “And for the record, this ship isn’t flagged from Gryphonia.”
“Is that so? Battle class like this doesn’t part from the Gryphons easy,” the Pony noted. “And I’ve never seen one this large before.” He eyed the Gryphon curiously, then looked back up at the behemoth beside them. “What’s her name, sailor?”
“The Gantrithor.” Grif smirked. “And she’s currently doing an escort mission.”
The Pony rolled his eyes. “Noble?”
“You could say that.” Grif chuckled, wondering when Hammer Strike’s dramatic timing would kick in.
“Is there a holdup?” Hammer Strike questioned as he stepped out.
The dockmaster sighed. “No holdup, Sir. You’re free to go. Just, please, have one of your crew notify us in advance next time you bring this vessel for a visit. A ship this size requires special preparations.”
“You might want to update your pamphlets, then.” Hammer Strike pulled one out of his coat. “Doesn’t really mention it. Also, I doubt the funding is there to build a dock of appropriate size for this vessel. It doesn’t help that this will not be a common thing.”
“Your ship is unprecedented, Lord…?”
“Hammer Strike.” He turned to address the dockmaster. “If push comes to shove, I will deal with the damages.”
“Fortunately, there are no damages to report this time, but if you’d be kind enough to offer us some advanced warning if you bring this ship again, we’d appreciate it. Our ports won’t always be so free, and your ship takes up a lot of room.”
“Hammer Strike, is everything all right?” A purple form glided down on silent wings to land next to the Pony lord.
The dockmaster’s jaw dropped. His eyes bulged, and he proceeded to sammer. “P-p-p Princess Twilight Sparkle.”
“Um, … yes?” Twilight cocked her head in confusion. “Can I help you?”
The dockmaster continued to stammer and otherwise lose his previous composition.
“Ignore him. There were some issues that are now dealt with. So, let’s get a move on. As much as I enjoy riding the Gantrithor, it only has so much to offer,” Hammer Strike commented dismissively.
“And we do need to get to the hotel and check in at the competition,” Rarity agreed as she approached bearing her famous luggage in her magical grip. “Not to mention see the sights the city has to offer. Oh, what an adventure this is going to be!”
“Um, we won’t have to talk to too many strangers, will we?” Fluttershy asked meekly as she alighted on the walkway.
“That’s part of the fun!” Rainbow insisted as she joined her friend.
“Ah dunno, sugarcube. That’s just askin’ for trouble, if you ask me,” Applejack said.
“Are you kidding?” Pinkie screeched. “How else am I supposed to learn about their famous party drinks and favors? There’s a reason they call it the city that never sleeps, you know. Because there’s always a party!” Confetti flew from her hooves out of nowhere as she beamed at her friends.
The dockmaster promptly fainted.
“Wow. He didn’t even get the chance to see Trixie,” Vital said as he clopped down the gangplank. “Speaking of which, how’s that glamour holding up, honey?” he called back to the ship.
“It’s fine, obviously,” Trixie harrumphed as she joined her husband. She appeared as she had before her ascension.
“Someone’s grouchy.” Vital kissed her on the cheek and smiled. “Better?”
“Somewhat.” She yawned. “Let's get going.”
Pensword walked out with Night Terror and Fox Feather at his side. He had overheard the entire conversation and was already writing down ideas and thoughts on better airship docks, policies, and handling in general. Surely, he could convince the Lunar Courts to start on better airships. If they could get ahead of the flock, they’d be able to sink their fangs in all the major trade ports. But that was for them to decide.
Night Terror looked over Pensword’s shoulder and shivered. If the Canterlot nobility didn’t shape up, they’d find Thestrals roosting in all the major trade ports overnight. Then again, as she had learned over her time in New Unity, Thestrals were very quick to adapt and honorable in their dealings. Would it be such a bad thing to have honest competition to tip the scales between the houses? Perhaps, or perhaps not. Only time would tell. For now, she knew there was one thing she needed to do before her decision could be finalized. And the fashion show provided her the perfect opportunity.
“Well, are we going to get this show on the road or not?” Rainbow pushed as she flew impatiently around the dock. “I mean, this is Manehattan, after all. Let’s have some fun!”
Grif rolled his eyes as he tossed a sack of bits to the dockmaster’s assistant. “That should handle the docking fees. You all go on ahead. I’ll speak with the crew and then meet up with you.”
“You need us to make arrangements for them at the hotel, or do you plan on them staying on the ship?” Vital asked.
“I’ll have to ask the girls.”
“Fair enough.” Vital Shrugged. “So we’ll meet up later, then, after whatever big musical number Rarity has in mind for us all?”
“Musical number? Why, Vital Spark, whatever are you talking about?” Rarity asked.
“Call it a hunch, Rarity. You’ve been bursting at the seams with excitement for the last week. A fellow learns to see certain signs.”
Rarity blushed. “Well, now that you mention it….”
The Mane Fair Hotel lobby was practically empty when the friends checked in after a full afternoon of sightseeing. The bellhop was kind and directed them right over to their rooms, having remembered Rarity’s exuberant tipping. Fortunately, Spike didn’t have to carry all the bags alone this time. The poor drake had had enough abuse trying to handle all of Rarity’s extra baggage on his own the first time. Fortunately, the luggage and gift bags were easily distributed among the many friends and soon delivered to the noble mares’ shared room.
The positive atmosphere from the sightseeing and comradery lasted for all of about a minute before the friends turned to see a broken Rarity with a wobbling lip and eyes that threatened to flood the room with the tears they struggled to hold back.
“Okay, my mom used to work in fashion, and I’m pretty sure I know that look,” Vital said. “Hammer Strike, I think your wife could use a hug right now. Girls, why don’t you see if you can’t help comfort her?” Then he turned to the Gryphon and Pegasus. “Pensword, Grif, mind if I steal you for a few minutes?”
Grif nodded. “I’ve got time.”
Pensword gave Vital a head tilt. “What is it?”
“Got some things I need to discuss with you two in private is all. And no, it can’t wait.”
Fox Feather smiled. “I think I’ll step out with Nighty, then. She and I could use some quality time.” She pulled the rather baffled Thestral toward the door. “Be safe, all.”
Vital, Grif, and Pensword soon followed. The Unicorn led them to the local sitting room on their floor and nodded. “I assume you two can already guess my intent here.”
“It’s about Rarity?” Pensword asked.
“Got it in one. It’s pretty obvious someone probably took advantage of Rarity’s good nature and used it against her in some way. Given how personal things are to Rarity with her work, it’s likely this has to do with her recent collection. Grif, did Rarity have a guard on her?”
“We had a changeling on her wall,” Grif noted.
“Good. We can start there. I know how devious your mind can be when you want to troll someone, Grif, so I figure the three of us can hatch a plan to hit whoever hurt Rarity where it really counts. You game?”
“Honestly, I'm surprised to see you acting so devious. I want to see how this works out,” Grif admitted.
Pensword shrugged. “Well, he did live in Zebrica for a year, and he’s been hanging around us for longer. Something was bound to rub off eventually. The main question is, how far? I wouldn’t mind finding out if she’s hurt more than Rarity, discredit her, and force her to either give up or rebuild her business legitimately.”
“I could probably get a dossier about them in about an hour,” Grif noted. “Just need a name.”
Vital nodded decisively. “Then that’s where we start. Let’s contact that guard and get the details. I’d rather not risk upsetting Rarity further when the show is so close.”
“Then best not interfere with anything until this is over, let rarity win on her own merits, then we destroy whoever did this,” Grif noted. “Much more satisfying.”
“Agreed. I still want details, though. The more, the better. If there’s one thing I hate, it’s a cheater.”
“Probably best we don’t all head up there at once, then. You head to the room first, Vital. Pensword will follow, and I’ll leave out the front door and meet you inside.”
“Sounds like a battle plan,” Pensword agreed.
“That's precisely what it is.”
“Gentlemen, plan Sabotage Triage is a go,” Vital said, then rose from his chair and went to the elevator. Time was of the essence.
Shrial sighed as the elevator doors chimed and she disembarked from the space to enter the lobby. A swift jab to the bell called the manager to the front desk. His gray-green mane had been slicked back and shone like he’d just taken a buffer to it. His tan fur coat was covered in a fine red brown tweed jacket with golden buttons.
“Yes? How may I help you?”
Shrial tossed a bag filled to the brim with bits and gems onto the table. “These are from Rarity at suite 605. She requires the use of a variety of objects from around the hotel.” She pulled a scroll out of her saddlebag and handed it to the manager. “This list shows the necessities. The hotel can keep any of the extra money that’s left over after. If this isn’t enough, just let us know.”
“Tassels, lamp shades, curtains, … soap bars?”
Shrial shrugged. “Don’t look at me. She’s the fashion designer. I’m just the runner.”
“I’ll … see what rooms we might have available to,” he shuddered, “canibalize, but this is fashion week. There might not be much…” He cleared his throat. “Material to work with, what with all the extra guests we have booked.”
“Find it,” Shrial said coolly as she fixed the Pony with the full force of her unblinking gaze. “We’ll be waiting.”
The manager held that gaze for all of a few seconds before he finally had to look away. “Of … of course, Ma’am. Will there be, uh, anything else?”
“Room service. Lots and lots of room service, both for Equestrians and Gryphons. We’re going to be burning the midnight oil tonight, so anything that can keep us awake and energized will do just fine.”
“We’ll send someone up right away. Will there be anything else?”
“Yes.” She handed over another scroll. “Mrs. Strike requires these materials to be brought over from the nearest supply stores available and be delivered to her room as quickly as possible.”
“Sewing machines, mannequins, fabric scissors, tac board, … isn’t it a little late to be working on a fashion line?”
Shrial growled threateningly. “Rarity happens to be a close family friend. I would appreciate it if you would ask less pointless questions and get those materials. Unless you would rather deal with an irate Gryphoness who’s actually competent with her weapons.” She flexed her talons meaningfully. “Are we clear?”
The manager gulped. “Crystal,” he croaked.
“Good. We’ll be waiting at her room. Do send up the food as soon as you can, and make sure it’s the best quality your chefs can muster. As I said, it’s going to be a long night.”
“You know, I really hope Avalon is keeping an eye on Shrial right now,” Grif noted as he opened the door to the stage’s storage room from the inside.
“Think she’ll hunt after our target, if Avalon doesn’t keep her busy?” Vital asked.
“She’s a Gryphoness. She’ll hunt the target because Grif is hunting for the target,” Pensword said.
“I’m more afraid that if Rarity is stressed, then she’ll try something desperate and she might ask Shrial to acquire things for her. And if Rarity is stressed, imagine how stressed Shrial is, considering this is her first major trip away from the twins. And think about the poor Pony who has to deal with all that,” Grif noted.
“Fair point,” Vital agreed as he cast a dim orb over the various clothing racks to illuminate the space after they shut the door. “So, shall we?”
“Oh Changeling, this Changeling, come at your lord’s bequest. Tell us your tale, so we may know what is best,” Grif recited in a slow clear cadence. Almost immediately from on of the far wall, there was a burst of green fire and a red-and-black figure detached, then fell to its hooves from the wall.
“Oh Changeling, this Changeling has come to reveal important information that they must unseal,” the female praetorian responded in a humming reply.
“Tell us, Changeling, did someone take anything from here while the lady was away?” Grif asked.
“Nothing was taken without the lady knowing,” the Changeling answered clearly.
“Was anything taken that the lady was aware of?”
The spy nodded. “Yesterday, as the lady was working on her project, she was approached by a Pony who asked about the fabric she was using. The lady told her of the fabric’s origin and how hard it was to acquire. When asked, she graciously gave of her fabric to the Pony,” the Changeling noted. “But this Changeling is no fool. Her sister followed the Pony. She and another Pony used the lady’s fabric and stole the lady’s designs.”
“Did you get the name?” Grif asked.
“The Ponies refer to her as ‘su-er-ri po-lo-ma-re.’” the Changeling stumbled a bit on the name. “She is followed by another. She is very cruel to this other Pony. Why would the Pony follow such a cruel one? This Changeling thought Ponies had no queens.”
“It’s … complicated,” Grif admitted. “Can one of the four of you keep an eye on her at all times? I want to know where she is without her knowing we’re keeping an eye on her.”
The Changeling’s eyes flickered a few times. “This is Changeling Number Three. This Changeling will be her shadow.” The voice was altered, not the same voice as before.
“Thank you, Number Three.” Grif nodded. The Changeling’s eyes flickered again. “You may return to your post, Number Two.” The changeling nodded before returning to the wall and climbing up it. In another flash, there was no sign she was there.
“Is it just me or was that one different from Me-Me’s usual children?” Vital asked.
“That's probably because they’re not her children. They’re her siblings, more cast-offs from Chrysalis’ hive. They have a contained hive mind, so they don’t need a queen, just an authority figure. Hammer Strike fulfills that role.”
“Huh. Go figure.” He looked back at the patch of wall. “Neat.”
Grif chortled as he wrote the name down and sent it away using his dragonfire lighter. “Suri Polomare. In an hour, I'll know more about her life than her own mother.”
“Come on you two.” Hammer Strike chuckled as he glanced behind himself, noting Silent Collector and Oracle following at a somewhat uneven pace. “Since you both work as my assistants, I figured it would be an idea to bring you both along for the trip. And don’t worry on the pricing of things. I wanted to show my appreciation to you both. You’ve cleared up my schedule significantly since I took the two of you in.”
“There’s no need, Sir,” Collector spoke up. “You’ve already helped us significantly with our … issues.” He muttered the last part, due to the three of them being in a public environment.
“Still.” He chuckled again. “Either way, the two of you have helped clear my schedule and given me time to myself, either for study or otherwise. If need be, you can look at this as working abroad, in case any additional paperwork ‘appears.’” He sighed. “It has a bad habit of following, no matter the location.”
“That may be true, but did you have to pick somewhere so crowded?” Oracle questioned as she kept pace with Collector.
Hammer Strike glanced back at them for a brief moment before nodding. “Right, social anxiety. Sorry. I admittedly forgot about that.”
“Yes,” Oracle squeaked as she did her best to shrink behind Silent Collector.
A blazing spotlight suddenly glared in the travelers’ faces as its bulb flashed on loudly. The shriek of creaking hinges followed as the light arced up into the night sky to join its fellows.
“Sorry about that, folks,” a thick Brooklyn accent said. “Hard to control where this thing’s gonna hit, sometimes.” The trio blinked to get the spots out of their eyes, and eventually the blurred form of a rugged brown stallion with a square cut beard and a mohawk of a mane came into focus. He doffed his yellow workman’s cap and smiled. “Risks of walking by a billboard. Name’s Lamplight. And you are?”
“Hammer Strike.” He gave a nod. “Along with me is Collector and Oracle.”
“Can tell by your clothes that you’re not from around here. Visiting for fashion week?”
“My wife was invited, and I couldn’t just sit by now, could I?”
“Oh, so she’s a designer, eh? Tough competition for that here.” He shrugged. “Well, I’d better get back to work. These billboards aren’t gonna light themselves.” He chuckled. “You folks should see about getting tickets to Hinny of the Hills while you’re here. Everypony’s raving about it.”
“Appreciate the suggestion.” Hammer Strike nodded. “We’ll give it some thought.”
Oracle sighed as they passed a crystal tech store. “You know, after all the TS documents I’ve seen, these computer models look so … pitiful by comparison.”
“I take it you enjoy working with technology?” Hammer Strike questioned.
“It used to be in my,” she cleared her throat, “former area of expertise.”
Hammer Strike hummed to himself. “I’ve been out of the loop on the current level of technology in Equestria. Do you believe one of the advanced computers available would benefit New Unity in some manner?”
“That depends. It has the potential to, but it requires a method to have each of the systems communicate with each other across vast distances. It would revolutionize scientific discovery and communication both. My mother theorized about using a network of mana crystals to allow such interaction. I did my best to replicate her research, but most of her notes were confiscated after she died. She wanted to call it the aethernet.”
“It certainly sounds feasible.” He hummed in thought. “Perhaps we can look into it one day. And perhaps I can look into finding said research.”
Oracle let out something between a gasp and a sob. “Y-you mean it?”
“Of course.” Hammer Strike smirked. “We’ll have to talk more later for some information. Then I can pass it along.”
“I … I don’t know what to say.” She blushed and looked away from the Pony lord just in time to get knocked onto her rump by a passerby.
“Hey, watch where you’re going, you—.” A gasp passed unnoticed into the city traffic. “Oh my Celestia. Oracle, is that you?”
The shy Pegasus looked up into luminous blue eyes framed by a pair of platinum pigtails braided from the stranger’s mane. A small yellow hair clip had been added over her left ear as an accent to her modified black vest. A white shirt beneath it complemented the appearance and helped to set off the bright red fur of her main coat.
Oracle groaned. “Tabby? Tabby Poser?”
“It is you!” A dark blue aura with brighter highlights swirled around a graceful horn as Oracle was lifted back onto her hooves, then wrapped in a pair of forelegs. “I was so worried after—.” her eyes darted over to Hammer Strike, and she caught herself. “After what happened.” She raised her eyes and gasped at the sight of Collector, then nearly tackled him to the ground with her enthusiasm. “Silent Collector!” She squealed in her joy. “What about the others? Where are they? Over at a hotel? Hanging out by the mall?”
Collector cleared his throat and shook his head.
“O-oh, … I see.” Her face fell.
“You do have an interesting habit of running into your old companions, it seems.” Hammer Strike chuckled as he looked to Silent Collector.
The Unicorn shrugged helplessly. “I guess fate still wants us together. At least that’s four of us now.”
Tabby beamed. “Who else? Who?”
Collector winced. “Stormwall Breaker.”
“Didn’t she join the guard?”
“That would be correct,” Hammer Strike commented. “She’s currently serving the guard of New Unity as of her most recent deployment.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t catch your name.” Tabby extended a hoof in greeting. “Tabby Poser. Any friend of Silent’s is a friend of mine.”
“A pleasure to meet you. I am Hammer Strike.” He smirked. “You can talk freely, as the record surrounding you all appears to have … been dealt with.”
Tabby laughed nervously. “Record? What record?” she blustered.
“Tabby, he’s fine. He saved our lives,” Oracle deadpanned. “And he’s one of the most influential lords in Equestria.”
A record screeched from a nearby nightclub as Tabby’s eyes widened. “Wait, you’re th-th-that Hammer Strike?”
“Pretty sure there aren’t many Hammer Strikes in history, beside myself.” He nodded. “Might be mistaken. Don’t really look up my name in history books.” He finished with a chuckle.
“You’ll have to excuse her,” Oracle said as Tabby proceeded to jibber. “She does ths a lot when she gets surprised.”
“So I’ve noticed.”
“And she’s a bad liar.”
That snapped Tabby out of it. “Hey!”
Silent Collector laughed. “We missed you, Tabby. Why don’t you walk with us? We’ll catch you up on what you’ve missed.”
Shrial grit her teeth as her talons dug into the hallway carpet. “If I have to listen to that mare bark an order at me one more time….” She growled as the material cut under the pressure.
Avalon laid a hand gently on Shrial’s back. “Deep breaths, Shrial. Deep breaths.”
“She’s treating them like molt rot! Do you have any idea how badly Grif would be thrashing her right now, if he were here to see this … this … glorified sweatshop?”
“She’s just had months of research and agonizing design work torn apart and thrown in her face, and has to recover everything from scratch by tomorrow. How do you think you would feel?”
“She’s the wife of a lord! She doesn’t even have to win this competition to stay solvent!”
Avalon sighed. “Try to keep your voice down, Shrial. We’re not alone in this building, and there are others who are trying to sleep.”
The red in Shrial’s face deepened at her pridemate’s cool demeanor. “It’s wrong,” she hissed.
“It’s a matter of pride and honor, Shrial, something I’m certain you can relate to exceptionally well. How would you have liked it if someone insulted you by calling you a weak Diamond Dog bitch after rigging your equipment to fail in the middle of a fight, so they could win and make you look like a careless fool of a warrior? Wouldn’t you do everything in your power to take your revenge and clear your good name?”
“Not at the cost of my friends and family.”
“We all do things in the heat of the moment, Shrial. Even Grif has. What matters is what happens when Rarity realizes her mistake. Give her a chance. If Grif was able to come back after, then why can’t she?”
“Fine,” Shrial snapped. “But I’m not helping her anymore. If I go back in there, I won’t be responsible for what I might do next.”
“The night life is supposed to be very exciting here in the city. Let’s take you somewhere to get your mind off this, and maybe discuss what’s really been eating at the both of us,” Avalon suggested. “Perhaps over a cup of tea.”
“And a large cut of meat. I need to tear something apart.”
“All right,” Avalon consented. “One elevensies meal, then.” She laid her wing over the red Gryphoness and smiled. “Come on. We can start with Cheshire, if you like, and then go from there.”
Shrial shuddered. “When I think of all the mischief she can teach the girls….”
Blueblood sighed as he trotted out the fashion show’s backstage entrance. The leader for Fashion Week had insisted on giving him the grand tour. Prim was right. The mare wouldn’t tolerate a single place missed on the demonstration. And anything out of place immediately met her harsh rebuke. She would have been a perfect match for his father, if only she weren’t common.
What really mattered to the young noble right now was finding the right mare to help satisfy certain … needs that the season had awakened within him. As such, he had looked forward to meeting the models with great enthusiasm. The mares may as well have been marble. They paid little attention to him. All were too focused on their makeup and other preparations for the fashion shows the next day. It seemed noble rank wasn’t nearly the magnet it used to be.
“There are days I wish I didn’t have to be a Blueblood,” he said as he looked up at the night sky for solace, only to find the empty blackness that light pollution provided so well. Then he sighed. “I guess it’s another lonely night at the bottle with Lady Absinthe.”
He wasn’t really in the mood for sightseeing, but he was too disinterested to take the direct route back to the airship. He let his hooves drag him along as he stared with disinterest at the rabble passing by. His malaise only deepened at the sight of lovers kissing on benches and flying cartwheels overhead in feats of daring to impress the targets of their wooing.
So lost was he in his daze that he didn’t notice the mare until he’d already crashed into her. Her navy-gray fur and voluminous red hair glowed in the city’s colorful lights, and her eyes seemed to cycle in a veritable kaleidoscope of color made wide by the shock of her fall.
In a surprisingly uncharacteristic show of chivalry, the shellshocked Blueblood went so far as to extend a hoof, his own hoof, and help her back onto all fours. The proximity of contact wafted a sweet and intoxicating scent into his nostrils, and an involuntary shudder passed through his frame. “So terribly sorry,” he apologized, and he was surprised to find he even half meant it. “I didn’t see you, Miss….”
The mare chuckled, and her voice was rich and layered as satin cloth. “Binder.” She blushed and lowered her head to expose the horn that lay beneath the mane. “Well, Spellbinder, actually.”
“Spellbinder.” The very taste of the name triggered goosebumps on the noble’s hide. His nostrils flared again, and he felt instinct rising with an intense need. “A beautiful name for a beautiful mare.” This time he felt his own cheeks flush. While his initial instinct was to squash such a display, he let it come. His father wasn’t here this time, and what Baron Blueblood didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. Besides, it might make him more endearing to the mare. “I … must apologize again for what happened. It seems I was so enamoured with the city that I’ve lost my way. Tell me, would you mind,” his voice cracked, and he cleared his throat to try again. “That is to say, would you happen to know the way back to the airship docks? I would be most grateful if you could help me back.”
The mare cocked her head in confusion. “The airship docks? But why would you want to go there?”
Blueblood could feel his barrel hitching as he struggled to maintain his breathing. “I’m visiting from out of town on business.” Sweat began to pour down his brow and he pulled his collar with his telekinesis to get some fresh airflow. “Please, I don’t mean to waste your time, and I’ll gladly pay you for your trouble. Otherwise, I fear I’ll be hopelessly lost.”
Spellbinder giggled at the noble’s antics, and Blueblood felt his blush deepen as the pride his father had so carefully cultured while quashing all other attributes like weeds reared its ugly head. Bile roiled in his belly as a biting comment burned its way to the back of his throat. He opened his mouth to rebuke, only to meet those flashing eyes again. The anger vanished. The mare drew closer. Her scent smothered the flames and ignited a different kind of blaze. An involuntary nicker escaped his throat as he felt her horn touch his. Since when had they gotten so close?
“I’ll tell you what. You just follow along, and we’ll talk about our payment when we get where we’re going, hmm?” she asked suggestively.
By this point, Blueblood was incoherent. He nodded his head like a cowbell and followed the rhythmic clopping of the mare’s hooves like a faithful hound. Cabbies’ curses grew fainter. The heavy trots of the shining streets wavered. Water lapped rhythmically with their pace as it smacked the stones. Doors creaked as the rainbow from her eyes glowed on her horn. His eyes followed her tail as it swayed back and forth and back and forth. He never even noticed the transition from stone to wooden floorboards.
“Come. Take a seat,” the voice invited.
Blueblood obeyed without question. He giggled as the ropes tied around his limbs. He smiled dreamily as the bulky creatures in black cloaks entered and the rainbows that had transferred from Spellbinder’s horn to the candles slowly faded to a sultry red-rimmed gold. He heard the clink of coins as his head lolled in a daze born of desire. Desire for the mare, desire for the colors she brought into his life, desire to join those colors and like them, be with her always. He caught one last look at those mesmerizing eyes as lips and horns touched.
“You’re the most beautiful mare I’ve ever seen,” he breathed.
“Thank you,” she whispered as she pulled away and drew her hair over her eyes like a veil. A dark cloak levitated from the rack onto her back and she drew up the hood, then pulled a set of tinted goggles over her eyes. Lastly, she levitated two large sacks onto either side of her withers and strode slowly to the door. “He’s all yours,” she said.
“All … what?” Blueblood blinked a few times as the haze began to lift. He caught one last glimpse of the mare looking back before the seven bodies that had entered formed ranks to block his line of sight. He craned his neck desperately, only for a sharp taloned hand to shove him back into the chair and slam him onto the ground.
“Please, my friend, don’t get up.” The one who spoke had a heavy Roanian accent. A serrated knife was pressed to stallion’s throat. “It would be rather horrible for your health.” A ring was placed on his horn, cutting off his magic. “You are the son and heir to Baron Blueblood, are you not?”
Blueblood was still trying to assemble the pieces of his mind back into a semblance of coherency, so he answered truthfully. “I … why, yes, I am, but—.”
“Perfect. Then rest assured you will be returned to him safely. Once the ransom is paid, of course.” The Gryphon seemed happy with this news. “Now it only comes to how we should prove to your father that we have you.”
“H-have … me?” Blueblood’s voice rasped. He felt surprisingly parched. How long had he been following that mare? What was the meaning of this? Why was he laying on a dingy ill-kept floor, bound to a chair?
“I would keep it down. I am sure your father would not be willing to pay as much if we had to remove your tongue,” the Gryphon cautioned. His companions laughed and jeered at their leader’s clever wordplay.
Blueblood gulped. “I-I don’t … believe I have anything that you could use,” he said.
“Perhaps we can send him your mark?” the Gryphon suggested.
“E-easily fabricated,” Blueblood countered.
“With it still attached to your skin.” The Gryphon chuckled as he brandished a knife and moved toward the stallion.
The door was knocked in with a bang and splintering of wood. A Pegasus in a cloak locked blades with the two Gryphons at the door. The clang rang against Blueblood’s ears as the tight quarters prevented either of them from using their wings. The first Gryphon was knocked down by the tossing of a wooden bucket. The second guard was kicked back against a wall before slumping down to the ground. The other ransomers charged to meet the stranger. The Pegasus easily ducked under two surprised Gryphons who stumbled into each other in their haste to seize the upstart. In less than a second, the warrior had tackled the leader to the ground and held a blade over the Gryphon’s heart. His order came swiftly. “Release your prisoner now or your leader dies.”
Blueblood didn’t see anything, but the horn ring was removed, and the knife at his throat vanished. The ropes fell loosely to the floor. He rolled and shuddered as he got to his feet. His mane and suit were smeared with grime. It would take ages in the tub before he felt clean again.
The Pegasus slowly stepped back. “Leave now, Noble. I’ll take care of these ruffians and make sure they never ransom another again.”
Blueblood narrowed his gaze. The shadows of the candles hid the Pegasus’ face. “Who are you?” he asked as his horn began to light up.
Blueblood only saw the white tail strands and the dark navy feathers of the Pegasus as he turned aside. “Go on,” he ordered as he drew the cape up to obscure his muzzle. “We’ll meet up at Celestia’s Hope.”
“But I don’t even know where we are,” Blueblood objected. “You can’t expect to leave me with these ruffians and hoofpads on the loose.”
“I got some help waiting to aid your escape. Go straight down the alleyway. Follow the lights. I’ll take care of these. It’s been a while since I spilled Gryphon blood.” He cracked his neck. “But I think I can still remember.”
Blueblood didn’t stay to watch. The doors slammed shut behind him as his gallop echoed into the night.
Pensword waited for the hoofbeats to fade before he sheathed his dagger. “That was good acting. I enjoyed the ploy.” He shifted a wing under his robe and rustled through its pockets.
“Of course. We aim to please.” The Gryphon gave a bow.
Pensword smiled and tossed a bag of coins on the now-righted seat that Blueblood had sat upon mere minutes ago. “I want to thank you for your help once again.”
“We accept your thanks most graciously, but I believe you need to keep to your appointment,” the Gryphon reminded him.
Pensword nodded and took a moment to compose his face into a look of smug satisfaction. He forced a swagger into his step, then carried on at a trot. After all, this appointment would require a proper set of theatrics in order to succeed.
Vital Spark sighed as he crept silently into the hotel room, doing his best not to disturb his wife. A night’s worth of investigation had turned up a lot of interesting facts. He smiled and levitated a vial full of a clear liquid onto a beaker stand and scrawled a warning sigil with his magic before turning to the bed and two very wide glowing eyes. He smiled as he approached and kissed her cheek. “Good evening, dear. Did I wake you?”
“No.” Trixie shook her head through a yawn.
“You look exhausted.”
“Been studying while you’ve been busy.”
He nestled himself into the bed and nuzzled her gently. “And keeping clear of the drama?”
“What happened to rarity is not Trixie’s business.”
“You don’t even feel the least bit of empathy over it?” He levitated a pair of knishes out of a paper bag and passed one to her as he peered over her notes. “Eclipse ritual magic? Are you trying to research a way to open a more stable portal between the worlds?”
“Clover believes my magic might be able to accomplish it,” Trixie noted. “As for the other question, Rarity was careless. Now she wants everyone to help her make up for it.”
“So, the tough love treatment?” He blew into her ear and smirked mischievously.
“It’s what Clover would do.” Trixie returned the smirk.
“And do you mind if I take a page out of her and Grif’s books by catching the criminal and ruining all chance of her abusing other people again while simultaneously destroying her career? After the show is over, of course. We’re still gathering evidence.”
“That's a whole other matter entirely,” Trixie noted. “What you and Grif are doing isn’t helping Rarity directly. It’s removing a dangerous Pony off the streets.”
“Good. In that case, you won’t mind double checking my truth potion before the show tomorrow.” He kissed her. “For now, I think I’d rather help you with what you want.” He kissed her. “Whatever you want.”
She grinned. “I can think of a few ideas.”
Grif walked into his hotel room yawning as he went to disarm in the entry. He stopped promptly when he caught sight of a severely annoyed Shrial hogtied in the corner of the room while Avalon sat on the bed reading from a tome.
“Do I want to know?” he asked.
“In a word, Rarity,” Avalon noted clinically. Shrial struggled against her bonds and tried to shriek curses through her tied beak as she thumped across the floor.
“Was she just threatening her or did she actually have a plan set up by the time you got to her?”
“It went swimmingly, until Rarity decided to berate me for getting Shrial out before she made mincemeat of Rarity’s designs, and possibly more. Fortunately, evocation is exceptionally versatile.” She casually flicked to the next page in her tome. “I made sure to tip the bellhop for his help getting her up here.”
“Well, thank you. Not sure we need Rarity getting injured added to the list of things happening right now.” Grif sighed. “To be fair, part of this mess seems to be her fault to begin with.”
“So we gathered. She expressed it at some length after you three left.”
Grif moved to Shrial. “If I cut you loose, are you going to behave?”
Shrial growled and grunted as she tried yet again to escape her bonds.
“I guess she needs to calm down some more.” Grif chuckled and returned to Avalon. “How are you?”
“Working on lesson prep for my students. And you?”
“Had a long day,” he said as he removed his armor and most of his weapons, giving them a check over and making sure to care for them where needed. “Got to make an arrest tomorrow, after this competition’s done.”
“Large or petty crime?”
“Defrauded Rarity, for one. Also probably a few dozen other up-and-coming stylists. It seems anyone who competes against her always has strange bouts of bad luck,” Grif noted as he stretched his wings and was rewarded by several pops of relieved tension.
“Witnesses?”
“Several. Not that it matters.” Grif chuckled as he picked Avalon up and set her on his back.
Avalon laughed. “Grif, what in the world are you doing?”
“This is a suite, meaning there is a hot tub in the bathroom. I need a soak, and I’m not going alone,” he said matter-of-factly as his tail traced gently down her spine. “So, since Shrial’s indisposed, you’ll be coming with me.”
“Oh, now that is a wicked punishment. Are you sure she’s not going to get too upset?”
“I’ll make it up to her later. Besides, we have something to talk about.” He chuckled.
“Oh? I wonder what that something could be.” She batted her eyelashes at him and smirked as she settled better onto his back. “Mmm. A girl could get used to this.”
“I believe somebody was bragging about how she would personally have more cubs than her father,” Grif teased. “We’ve got work to do.”
“So soon after the first? My, my.” Avalon chuckled. “Do be gentle, Grif. And try not to give me a litter. I do have classes to teach, after all.”
“I’m sure you’ll manage, no matter what happens.” He chuckled as he slid the bathroom door shut behind them.
Vital Spark peered left and right as he looked over the reserved seats in the runway bleachers. “Huh. No sign of the girls. What do you think happened?” he asked Grif. The Gryphon had been smiling all morning.
“Probably had a falling out before Rarity realized she crossed the line.” Grif shrugged.
“I’m … kind of surprised how chill you are about this. Shawn said you, that is to say, Taze, went ballistic on them before when something like this happened at Cadence’s wedding. Why are you so calm about it now?”
“Because there is a major difference between leaving someone broken and alone over someone you don’t even know and being overly stressed because somebody messed with you,” Grif noted.
“Ah.” He peered out at the runway as the music began to play to signal the start of the event. “So, when were you planning to spring the trap around Miss Polomare?”
“When it’s over. So rarity and the rest aren’t there.”
“A sound plan.”
The show was surprisingly short for all the hype it put on. The mares finished a final roll call with each line passing by for the finale, but by then Rarity had already dashed off the stage and raced for the doors.
“So, are we getting Hammer Strike in on the fun?” Vital Spark asked as they awaited the inevitable announcement for the results.
“He’s aware. If he wants to be here or not is his issue,” Grif noted.
“And the results are in! The winner of this year’s Fashion Week exclusive designer competition is Rarity Strike!” The crowd cheered and applauded as Prim hemline searched the crowd for the Pony in question to no avail. “It appears we have a no-show. Apologies, mares and gentlecolts.” She smiled and waved graciously, then swept herself from the stage and clopped behind the curtain with poise and style only a former model fashionista could pull off.
“So, how much are you willing to bet Suri’s going to try something to get that prize?” Vital asked as the crowd began to depart.
“Stupid bet.” Grif chuckled.
Vital smirked. “Not if you’re on the winning side.”
The mansion stuck out like a sore thumb, surrounded as it was by the various apartment buildings and city scrapers. A modest set of grounds were carefully maintained, and a small fountain had been set up to portray the glory of the Unicorns who raised the sun before Celestia came along. A shallow tiled pool ringed by decorative flowers and bushes stretched toward the mansion door. A stately set of columns stretched around a semi-rotunda leading to the large double doors filed with stained glass window panes. Storm clouds loomed overhead as a cloaked Pony strode down the lawn to the waiting door. A fitful breeze caused the cloth to billow ominously.
An elderly colt with a carefully coiffed white mane tied in a victorian braid peered through his monocle at the guest. Hints of silver and gold streaked through the hairstyle as he tossed his head and puffed out his chest within the gold-trimmed suitcoat that had been expertly buttoned up. “May I help you?” he asked in a low, nasally, albeit formal, voice.
“I Believe Prince Blueblood is expecting me.”
The chamberlain appraised the figure with a skeptical brow raised. “I am obligated to ask the means whereby you led the young master to safety, before I grant you entry.”
“I had a trail set up to guide him back to the middle-class neighborhoods and rendezvous at a fountain. We then took a roundabout stroll through the middle rich neighborhoods to throw off potential pursuit in the crowded streets. Once I was confident we had successfully evaded his would-be-captors and their compatriots, I escorted him to the airship yard, where he promptly insisted on a proper reward for me at this estate.” The Pony’s eyes flashed beneath his hood. “May I enter now?”
The chamberlain narrowed his gaze, but stood aside. “Of course,” he said assiduously. He shut the door quickly and quietly, then tossed his mane and humphed to himself. “Follow me.”
The polished mahogany, tapestries, armor, and various paintings were everything one might expect to find in such a historic structure. The chamberlain guided the Pony under a massive crystalline chandelier in the main hall and opened a set of double doors that led into an expansive library. The chamberlain cleared his throat.
“Your … guest has arrived, Master.”
Prince Blueblood bit his lip nervously as he stood next to his father. The colt’s suit was perfectly pressed, his mane coiffed and shining a silken gold. One could hardly tell he had been in any danger such a short time ago. On the other hoof, Baron Blueblood hadn’t even deigned to show his face as he perused a newspaper and mumbled to himself.
“Thank you, Brandy. You are excused.” The stallion’s voice was calm, deep, and rang with the confidence of absolute authority.
“Of course, Master. Shall I order Sherry to prepare a pot of tea?”
“No, I don’t believe this business should take all that long.” He gestured with a hoof. “Run along.”
“Yes, Sir.”
The door shut gently behind, and Baron Blueblood folded his paper with a look of profound disinterest. His horn ignited and he levitated a bag of coins from its place on a plinth to hover in front of the stranger. “Your reward,” he said disinterestedly. “A tidy sum, good for a week’s worth of services in the city. Leave this town and you’ll find they last you a great deal longer. Do so quickly, and you will find the bag fills with a bonus payment.”
The Pony feigned disinterest in the pouch. “I believe that based on laws in the nobility, I may petition for something of equal value to that which was saved. Is this not so?” He sneered from under his hood. “Giving this to me could be seen as a slight or even an insult among your peers. Or were you hoping I wouldn’t remember that point of law?” He chuckled again. “It’s my business to know.”
“What are you, a mercenary, then?” Baron asked coolly. “There are few I know of who would spurn such generosity. Fewer still who know the old laws in your line of work.”
The pony muzzle twitched at the words, “The interest of the Moon Princess is bringing more knowledge to the masses. And, well, I happen to be among the masses.” He sneered. “I just decided to help myself. As for your other concerns, you can keep your coin. I’m not interested in your wallet.”
“Then what are you interested in?” Baron asked gravely.
“Now you’re starting to ask the right questions.” He grinned. “Let’s just say my desire is perfectly legitimate, and it’ll cost you next to nothing, barring certain obligatory fees.”
Baron steepled his hooves and rested his chin on top. “I’m listening.”
The stranger shook his head. “Not good enough. I want a guarantee.”
“Guarantees are dangerous without details.”
“So’s not living up to the law. Or did you want to risk losing the support your side’s worked so hard to gain and retain in the house?” He walked over and deliberately messed with a jade statuette. He was rewarded by a gasp from Prince Blueblood and the sounds of Baron’s gritting teeth. “Such dishonorable conduct would reflect very poorly on you and your standing, wouldn’t it?”
“Without witnesses?”
“Who do you think I had set up the lamps in the first place? Who did I have watching the watchers until I could receive the all-clear?” He sneered. “And why else do you think I walked him through such a lower class district, where everyone would doubtless recognize such a famous figure in the Solar Courts?”
Baron glared daggers at the Pony as he bit off every word. “What do you want?”
”Your promise to honor my request.”
“Which is?” he growled again.
The Pony turned in disappointment. “It seems we can’t come to the proper arrangements here, after all. Not if you have so little trust in me. Might take a few weeks, but I’m sure you’ll get the summons eventually.” He turned and strode slowly toward the door.
Baron snarled as his hoof slammed into his desk. “Damn you, wait!” His nostrils flared and his jaw looked ready to break under the strain of his pride as his voice carried softly over the air. It was barely perceptible.
“Could you repeat that? My grandma spoke louder on her deathbed. Do I have your promise that I can name my reward?”
“I said all right!” Baron’s teeth snapped at the air with a menacing clack. He shuddered and reined himself back in. “All right,” he said more softly. “What do you want.”
“A marriage contract. You see, m’lord, I’m actually doing you a favor. I want to take that fruitbat of yours off your hooves. She leaves your house, joins my family, and all for the price of her dowry and whatever else you may have promised her. No strings attached, no ransoms, and you never have to see her face again. You can pretend like she never existed.”
Baron stared suspiciously at the stallion. “And what do you get out of this potential … arrangement?”
“No potential. That is my request. A contract to be utilized at a later date, with your seal affixed to ensure credibility. I can wait a while, if need be. I just want to have the documentation out of the way before anyone has a chance to conveniently forget about their debts. Of course, I’ll be taking that contract with me for similar reasons. I’d rather it not get accidentally incinerated by a careless brush into the fireplace.”
“You seem well acquainted with politics, friend.”
The hooded Pony whipped around. “I am nopony’s friend,” he snarled. “My motives are mine. My choices are mine. And I don’t give a buck about what anypony else, even Celestia herself, might have to say otherwise. Now give me the damn paper, and we can both pretend this meeting never happened. Then your son can go back to trying to find a mare to rut with.”
Prince Blueblood balked. “Really, of all the nerve.”
Baron Blueblood smiled. “A cynic and a realist. Intriguing. And you think you can handle her?”
“I’ve ‘handled’ plenty of other things in my past. This one won’t be a problem.”
Baron grinned viciously as he levitated an empty scroll, some wax, and his family seal to his desk. “I think this is going to be the beginning of a beautiful relationship.”
The Pony returned the grin from beneath his hood. “One can only hope.”
Tabby Poser gaped at the sight of a raving purple Pony as she kicked and screamed against the police and guard units that dragged her from the office.
“Do you know who I am? Do you know who I am? You have no idea what you’re dealing with. Put me down. I said put me down, or so help me, you’ll have a lawsuit smacking your flank so fast, you won’t be able to sit down for a—!” She never had the chance to finish her tirade as a glowing blue muzzle manifested over her jaw to bind it shut, along with a spectral timer. Her horn sparked uselessly as the control ring that had been placed on her did its work. Her muffled protests and screams proved highly entertaining to watch, however.
“Wow. Now there’s a mare who could use a change of heart,” Tabby Poser muttered as Silent Collector, Oracle, and Hammer Strike looked on impassively.
Oracle shook her head. “So many ruined lives. And for what, a little trophy?”
Vital Spark smiled and approached as the light in his horn faded. “Man, that felt good shutting her up. Grif is going to take her to the Gantrithor for processing after they take Coco’s testimony. You want me to go with them?”
“Potentially for the best,” Hammer Strike replied with a shrug.
Vital Spark nodded. “We’ll meet you back at the Gantrithor. Besides, Trixie and I have a few old haunts to visit before we leave.” He saluted casually. “Call me, if you need me. I’ve still got the crystal.”
Hammer Strike simply nodded in return. Once Vital was out of earshot, he sighed to himself. “Things can never be on the simpler side, can they?”
“In big cities like this? No,” Tabby agreed. She sighed. “We hoped to change that once.”
“So I’ve heard,” he replied. “Though the task is nearly impossible on such a grand scale.”
“Yeah, I know.” She sighed again. “So, does this mean goodbye? You're only here till the end of fashion week, right?”
“That is the plan.” He nodded. “Unless something changes, we will be heading out soon enough.”
“And you said you guys are back at the palace of the two sisters?”
“Technically correct, though it is now known as New Unity, and is a city in the works. We’ve actually just started construction on houses and small businesses.”
She smiled. “I guess that means I can visit, then.” She pulled Oracle and Silent Collector into either foreleg in a hug. I missed hanging out with these two.”
“Tabby. Too close. Too close!” Oracle protested.
Silent Collector smiled as Oracle squirmed. “Just like the old days.”
“Sans a certain knucklehead.”
“Inari….” Oracle grumbled.
“Inari?” Tabby scoffed. “Rebelle was way worse.”
Oracle finally escaped Tabby’s grip. “Hey, did he ever break into your personal sanctuary and destroy priceless personal belongings with paint?”
“Did he ever destroy one-of-a kind clothing you wore for a photo shoot?”
Collector shook his head and sighed as the argument escalated. “Just like old times.”
Hammer Strike hummed at the exchange. “You know, the more I think on it, your team is lacking members, isn’t it, Collector?”
The Unicorn nodded.
“Well, Miss Tabby, if you feel that you would like to catch up on old times with them sometime in the future, you need but ask. After all, his current staff count is quite low.”
The two Ponies stopped their wrestling for a moment and Tabby lost her balance, then fell on her face. She quickly scrabbled to her hooves. “You mean the four of us together again? I mean, I’d love to and all, but ….” She frowned. “I have contracts.”
“And I assume it would cost quite a bit to have them dealt with?”
“More like a lot of bits; a whole lot of bits.”
Hammer Strike hummed for a moment. “Well, Collector, it appears Oracle and yourself will have some paperwork to deal with. Meanwhile, I may have a few meetings to attend to.” He chuckled. “Tabby, might you direct me to the ones who hold your contracts?”
Tabby blinked in dazed surprise, then shook her head. “Uh, right. That’s … that’d be at the agency. They have a record of all my contracts. Just, uh … follow me?”
Hammer Strike simply chuckled once more.
Vital Spark watched as the prestidigitation of the coal-black Earth Pony astounded the guests with disappearing boxes, sudden dress changes, teleportation, and even levitation in gigantic bubbles without the slightest sign of a telekinetic aura or enchanted artifact. He smiled and leaned against his wife’s shoulder.
“Reminds me of Earth. We had a really famous artist named David Copperfield there. Remember the Statue of Liberty I showed you on Ellis Island? He made that whole statue disappear in front of a live audience.”
“That sounds impossible,” Trixie scoffed.
“Doesn’t change the fact that he did it in front of a live audience with multiple angles being watched, including from the air.”
“That amount of magical power that would take would be astronomical,” Trixie noted.
“I don’t know, Celestia and Luna seem pretty capable of it, as do most Unicorns here. The incredible part of it is he also brought it back. No one knows if it was real magic or not, but everyone was mystified by it. Didn’t you have illusionists like that here, too?”
“There is a difference between small objects and a massive statue,” Trixie pointed out.
“Yes, but that’s where his genius lies. Apparently, he also walked through the Great Wall of China. Between fifteen and thirty feet thick, all solid rock. Like I said, a brilliant illusionist.”
“He sounds brilliant.” Trixie nodded.
“Was there ever anypony like that here in Equestria?”
“Aside from Hoofdini? I wouldn’t know.”
“Well, I hope you don’t mind if I play your assistant from time to time. That is, assuming you still want to put on some performances for the kids?” He nuzzled her gently and smiled.
“I’d like that.” She grinned. “It would be nice to keep my skills sharp.”
“Sharper than your scythe?”
“Probably.” She chuckled. “It’s good to remember magic’s not all battles and bloodshed.”
“And real magic usually lies in the wits and heart of the user, anyway. Who says you need a horn or an artifact?” He smirked. “Though those fireworks of yours are pretty hard to beat.”
“I appreciate that.” She nodded.
“Think there might be a way to put those in a can for Ponies to enjoy?”
Trixie put a hoof to her chin and furrowed her brow as she pondered the question. “I’ll … have to look into that.”
“It definitely would make a good side business after we graduate from Clover’s tutelage. But I think I’d prefer making my own fireworks for now.” He smirked and kissed her on the cheek. “So, where did you want to go next?”
“I believe it’s your turn to pick.” She smiled.
“One spell of random choice mixed with dowsing for fun coming right up.”
“I can’t believe I am actually doing this.” A brown Earth Pony with a sandy mane looked nervously through the warehouse district, then down at the scroll bearing Celestia’s seal at its top with the address. He took his second right, then progressed down three more rows before turning to the left and approaching the stairs. His head whipped back and forth as he checked for any other sign of life. Then he reached into his chest, which rippled at the contact, and withdrew a small iron key. The door’s lock was quickly unlatched, and he darted inside, then hastily closed the door behind him. He sighed in relief as a dull glow from his forehead revealed a horn. The color slowly drained from his fur as his mane regained its polished sunny gold. A white suit coat covered his shoulders and barrel. He stowed the key in his coat pocket and put more energy into his horn to give him a greater radius of light to work with.
“Stop moving and hold for a scan,” a voice spoke as green magic proceeded to wrap around his body and he felt the heat go through his form before moving to the ground behind him and jumping from hoofprint to hoofprint. It exited the building seconds later. “He’s clear. He had a tail a few blocks back, but we already took care of it. Put out your horn, go forward, keep your movements in plain sight, and if you ignite your horn again, you’ll lose it. Understand? Just nod.”
Prince Blueblood gulped, but did as he was bidden. The light in his horn quickly went out. The moment it did, a light rush of wind blew through the space, and a circle of light bobbed in time to a suddenly lit torch. As he stepped into the pool, another torch ignited at a sufficient distance to light his way. He weaved through aisle after aisle of crates, each carefully stacked to ensure he wouldn’t be able to read their labels. Finally, he emerged in an intersection where a small round table had been set up, along with two chairs and a single lamp. Blueblood approached and sat at one of the chairs. He winced as his gaze probed the darkness for any signs of the glowing eyes he expected from the changeling guards. No such lights appeared.
“Hello, Brother.” Night Terror emerged silently from the shadows. The lamplight bathed her in a golden halo that surrounded her fur. “Thank you for answering my letter, though I didn’t expect Grif to chastise me for reaching out to you over this, rather than asking Hammer Strike myself.”
“It was the only way to keep Father’s spies from finding out. You did say you wished this meeting to be between the two of us.” He winced. “You have no idea how much wheedling and,” he nearly gagged, “begging it took to finally convince Aunt Celestia to take me seriously.” He sighed. “Now what betrayal are you planning to execute against Father?”
“I need you to make sure that you can speak honestly with me, and… to release me from Father’s oaths on the more secret parts of our household.” Her gaze darted nervously in the ring of light as her ears twitched in search of any sound that might betray another’s presence.
Blueblood sighed. “Night Terror, you know full well that I don’t have that kind of authority. This is Father we’re talking about. Do you honestly think he’d willingly give me that kind of power? He hardly even trusts me with our money.”
Night Terror smirked. “But you do have the authority. I was told it on the authority of the best magical scholar New Unity has to offer, albeit secondhoof. Think about it. Names hold power, just as much as a rank. And which is higher, a baron or a prince?”
“You actually sought advice on how to break your magical bond to the family? Are you daft? Father would have killed you the moment he heard about it.”
“But he didn’t hear about it, and he won’t until it’s too late. Please, brother. I’m not asking you to cast a spell. I’m not even suggesting anything that would be legally binding, let alone that could be tied back to you. You know full well that Father wouldn’t even suspect you with the way you carry on around him.” She sighed and looked away. “Sorry. I don’t mean to be so … unsubtle about all this, but there isn’t much time. We leave tomorrow, and I doubt we’ll have another chance like this for some time.
“I … I met someone. And I like him. I think I might even love him. But I know Father will never sanction my marriage to anyone, if I ask him. You know how he feels about the possibility of a living Thestral line, especially one that could come from me. I just want to know someone, anyone in this Faust-forsaken household is actually willing to care about my happiness, to wish me well for my sake, not for his own.” Unshed tears stood in her eyes as she raised her head to stare intently at her brother. “Is that such a crime to ask, after everything I’ve done?”
Blueblood leaned back in his chair, as though he had been struck. “N-nighty….”
Night Terror seized Bueblood’s hoof in a hard grip. “Give me your blessing. If there’s even one spark of the foal I knew before Father sunk his teeth into you, then please, let that spark burn, however briefly. Please, let me have this. Just … just this.” Two tears burst on the wooden table. “Please.”
Blueblood shuddered. “If Father ever found out….”
“No one will ever know. Celestia made sure of it. You trust her, don’t you?”
Blueblood’s eyes darted nervously through the shadows. Then he licked his lips. “You. Changelings. Is this building warded?”
“What makes you think we’d overlook that?” the voice echoed from beyond.
Blueblood didn’t miss a beat. “How strongly?” he pressed.
“Strong enough.”
“Are you satisfied, brother?” Night Terror asked.
Blueblood sighed, and for the first time in Faust knew how long, he disheveled his perfect mane and shook his head. “I never asked for this, you know. And I know you didn’t either.” He turned aside. “I … don’t approve of bloodshed,” he said softly. “Father says it’s because I’m weak, that I don't have the stomach to get things done.” He swallowed heavily and smacked his lips. “Maybe he’s right.” He clenched his teeth. “Father would have me kill you for this. It’s nothing short of complete and utter defiance.” His body started to tremble. He took a steadying breath to try and force at least a veneer of calm. It didn’t help. Ice flowed through his veins, chilling him from the inside out. “You know, in the strangest way, I envy you. You don’t have to worry about politics or economics or feigning interest in something to gain somepony’s favor. You have the backbone Father wanted me to have.” He groaned and smacked his forehead on the table. “Oh, Faust, Sleipnir, and Celestia. I can’t believe I’m actually thinking about this.” He rose from the table and pranced nervously to promote circulation.
“I just want your blessing. Please.”
Blueblood raised a hoof and began to gnaw at it. “I’ll need an excuse to give Father, just in case,” he finally said. “A cover story, in the event he finds out about our meeting.”
She pulled a scroll out of her satchel. “Use this. You can claim I insisted, and that the information was too sensitive to give over the mail. He won’t begrudge you the contents.”
Blueblood gulped as he took the scroll in his magic, then sputtered. “All right. Let’s do this, while I can still stand.” He drew himself up in a paltry attempt to look as regal as possible. “Night Terror Blueblood, you come to me this night seeking a blessing to pursue a mate in marriage, to bind yourself to him and to his house. As heir to the name of Blueblood and as your older brother, I, Prince Blueblood, do hereby grant my consent to seek a mate and sever your obligations to House Blueblood through rite of marriage. Choose well, for it is your choice to make.”
Night Terror sighed, both in relief and remorse. “Brother, I may not see you again till after you take over the house. I couldn’t say this to you until now.” She drew herself up, though her gaze was still uncertain. “Father had … plans to have me erased, once I finished my task. Grif told me so, himself, and his intelligence network is second to none. Father would honor the law and ensure I inherited the stretch of forest he promised, but I would meet an unfortunate end within the week. A hunting accident, perhaps, or some other atrocity of nature and the wilds.” She sighed and shook her head. “I didn’t want to believe it, but the evidence provided was insurmountable. You proved yourself a true brother today, Prince. I won’t forget it.” She embraced him and did her best not to show the hurt at the cringe she felt. “I’ll do my best to help and support you, provided it’s not for Father’s schemes.”
Blueblood nodded and patted her awkwardly. “I … suppose I’ll see you another day, then. Perhaps at your Lunar Court.”
Night Terror smiled sadly as she separated from him. “Perhaps.” She slipped slowly back into the shadows and out of sight. “Goodbye, brother. And thank you.”
Blueblood turned to leave in the opposite direction. “Goodbye,” he whispered under his breath. “Sister.”
“Well folks, I’d say that’s all she wrote. Manehattan was certainly an interesting place to visit, but I’m glad we’re going back home again,” Vital Spark said as the friends approached the air dock. It seemed word traveled fast. Construction was already underway to expand the building for the Gantrithor’s next visit.
“I’m just glad that we didn’t end up having to solve any murder mysteries. We certainly did everything else,” Pensword quipped.
“Extortion?” Vital asked with a raised brow.
Pensword smirked as he stretched his wings to wrap one around Fox Feather and the other around Night Terror, who blushed as he eyed a Jeweled necklace built to replicate a peacock. The thin silver chain around her neck accented her dark fur and drew out the color in her eyes.
“Wait, are you serious?” Vital asked.
“Hey, let’s not mince words. It’s blackmail.” Grif chuckled.
“Did you two cook up some devious plot without inviting me? I don’t know whether to feel impressed or jealous,” Avalon purred as she sauntered next to her husband.
“At least you weren’t tied up for half the night,” Shrial grumbled irritably.
“You did deserve it, though,” Avalon pointed out.
“That is a matter of perspective.”
“Honey, if she hadn’t, what are the chances Rarity would still be alive?” Grif asked bluntly.
“I’m angry, not stupid, Grif,” Shrial deadpanned.
“I did apologize for my behavior. Speaking of which, when did you want to come in for your armor fitting?” Rarity asked.
“Pencil me in for next week.”
Grif laughed. “Shrial, my love, you are the rose in all its truest form, and roses have thorns.”
“Well, you helped me grow them.” She smirked and kissed him on the cheek.
“Yes, and I've seen them shred your enemies.” He chuckled. “Besides, if you’re that upset, I could make it up to you.” He whispered into her ear. “There’s a hurricane bound for the carriage islands in a couple of days. We could always relive our honeymoon.”
Shrial shuddered. “How do you always know the best places to take me off guard?”
“Because I love you?” he suggested laughing.
“Reminds me of us back at the island.” Vital smiled and kissed his wife. “I just hope Tazeer will appreciate these kanolis. If there’s one thing I know well, it’s that kids usually have a bit of a sweet tooth.”
“Not even a year old, and your spoiling him. I find myself worrying about our children.” Trixie chuckled.
“Hey, one treat doesn't a spoil make, you know.” He winked. “Now, if I were to make arrangements with the cakes to get lots more to send him on a regular basis, then I’d be spoiling. And before you ask, no, I didn’t.”
“Not yet.” Trixie chuckled.
“Are you kidding me? Grif would kill me if I made him fat and lazy. And if he didn’t, I’m sure Avalon and Shrial would.”
“Glad to see you’re learning.” Grif chuckled as he walked past Vital.
“The tortoise does eventually cross the finish line, you know.”
“So when does the caterpillar get there?” Grif asked.
“After it becomes a butterfly, of course.” Vital smiled as he looked to his wife. “I just happen to be lucky enough to have found someone who’s willing to be my wings until then.”
“Flattery will get you everywhere, dear.” Trixie kissed his cheek.
“I think with you is just fine.” He smiled as they followed Grif and his wives.
“Are we nearly prepared for departure?” Hammer Strike questioned as the group drew near.
“I think so.” Grif nodded.
“Great. I’ll be glad to get this place behind me and return to New Unity.” He sighed.
Rarity pouted. “Oh, Darling. I’m so sorry. I completely ruined the week for you with my fit.”
“That’s not what I meant,” he clarified. “I just don’t care for places like this. Everything revolves around status and money. While our situation works in both, it leads to some … unsavory personalities.”
“And at least back home, you get to kick them out?”
“Metaphorically and literally, if need be.”
“Well, in that case, I suppose we should hurry home. Besides, I believe it’s my turn to plan date night.” She kissed his cheek. “I’ll do my best to make it extra special.”
“Hammerstrike? Can I talk to you for a minute?” Grif asked, having just scanned a message that had appeared to him through dragon fire.
“Something wrong?” Hammer Strike looked up from a scroll he was holding. Silent Collector was also in the room, currently off to the side with his own small stack of scrolls he was sorting through.
“Just got an alert from Circlet. An alarm went off in one of the lower storage areas.”
“Considering we told everyone it was off limits, you think it’s our stowaway?”
“Who else could it be?” Grif asked.
Hammer Strike placed his scroll down. “A break seems nice.” He stretched. “Collector, come with us. Perhaps your skills can be put to use.”
Silent Collector nodded in response as he set everything down.
“Let's hope we get this done before anyone else finds out.” Grif led the way. Navigating the Ganthritor’s halls was still as tricky as ever, but they found the storeroom soon enough. The door had been dented and hung limply on its hinges as they entered the room. Food had been left scattered about, and sacks and crates had been torn or broken into.
“Got anything you can work with, Grif?” Hammer Strike asked. “I’m not the greatest when it comes to tracking.”
“A few things, but not as much as I’d like,” Grif admitted. “Can’t even determine the species. They didn’t leave any tells in that regard.”
Collector’s attention was focused onto the ground as his eyes sharpened. “Paw prints, no other kind. They’re not that large in size either.”
“How can you see that?” Grif asked.
“Some time ago, I,” he paused, forming his thoughts. “I guess you can say I trained to see more than just things on the surface. If I focus on it, I can even see trails of an individual's aura residue. It’s not perfect, but I can see where they were moving and where they went.”
Grif nodded. “Let's follow them, then.”
Collector nodded and began leading the two through the Gantrithor. Whoever they were following wandered around the lower levels with no real direction in mind, from what he could figure out. The path entered rooms at random and left them just as quickly. It wasn’t until they came across a door slightly ajar that they realized they were at the end of the trail.
Grif was the last one in, and made sure to shut the door as they entered the room.
The scent of cooking meat was the first thing to wash over their nostrils, followed closely by the sight of several rough carvings along storage crates that had been pushed aside to make a narrow passage. A smooth velvety voice gradually carried to the Ponies’ and Gryphon’s sensitive ears. It was deep, refined, and most surprising of all spoke in flawless Neighponese.
Hammer Strike sighed upon hearing the language. “Whoever you are, I suggest you step out of your makeshift room at once. You are currently trespassing, and will be treated as a hostile threat, if you do not comply,” he called out in the same language, before turning to Grif and nodding. “Keep at the ready.”
Grif nodded with a hand on a knife.
“Trespassing. Well, I knew that, once this marvelous vehicle took flight.” A large shadow flew up from the boxes as the familiar bob of a warm flame created a dance of light and dark. “I’ve been trying to get help for the last several months now. Thank goodness someone finally found me.” The creature that emerged from the crates held a bobbing white flame in one hand and a half rack of boar ribs in the other. His form was tall and sleek, his fur a pristine white with bright red accents around his eyes, ears, cheeks, and paws. His fur grew long over his head to create a tuft that draped on the edge of his left eye, while the other portion was carefully groomed to remain at an average part on the right. “I just finished preparing dinner. Would you care to join me?”
Hammer Strike looked at him flatly. “You realize you’re cooking our food and trying to offer it back to us?”
“Yes, but it would be such a waste to simply throw it away after I’ve already gone to the effort of cooking it. Naturally, I have every intent of repaying you for your kindness.”
“Inari?” Collector suddenly commented as he stepped out from behind Hammer Strike. “Is that you?”
The Kitsune’s ears perked to attention as his eyes widened in shock. “Can it really be?” he asked in Equestrian. His accent was, surprisingly enough, closer to that of a cultured noble from Canterlot than the usual accent they had come to expect from Ping and her friends. “Silent Collector!” He grinned. “I know my fortune said my talent would guide me to my friends again, but I never expected an odyssey like this to reunite us.” He laughed. “To think a moment of idle curiosity for research would lead me back to you again. Ah, my mother’s spirit truly must be watching over me.”
Hammer Strike sighed. “Collector, is he another of your previous teammates?”
“Yes, actually.” Collector gave a brief chuckle. “He left for home a while ago, so I didn’t expect to run into him again.”
Hammer Strike blinked, took a deep breath, then sighed. “At this rate, I’m not taking you on any more trips,” he said flatly.
The airship arrived smoothly and easily to a surprisingly peaceful castle. The sun shone brightly down on the monstrous construction, and the awnings creaked as the vessel settled in to dock. The Shield twins stood at attention on the platform and saluted smartly as the passengers and crew stepped onto the deck with their guest/prisoner in tow.
“Really, Hammer Strike, I must compliment you on the artistry in those circuits you crafted. There’s a certain element of beauty, simplicity, and even mystery behind the energies that fuel this vessel.” Inari smiled as he complimented with enthusiasm. “It’s given me such grand inspiration. I feel I could paint for the next week with neither food nor water, merely my art to sustain me.”
”Thank … you?” Hammer Strike replied with uncertainty.
Tabby sighed and shook her head. “That’s just Inari being Inari. You get used to it.”
“Just don’t let him anywhere near your toys.” Oracle glared at the kitsune. “I still haven’t forgiven you for what you did to my collection.”
“It was an honest mistake,” Inari insisted.
“Yeah? And how’d you like it if I busted one of your paintings up?”
Tabby seized Oracle and held her back as she chuckled nervously. “Now, now, Oracle. Not in front of Hammer Strike.”
Oracle puffed out her cheeks, but managed to regain control of her temper. “We’ll settle this later,” she groused.
“... Those four are ridiculous,” Vital Spark said after a period of silence.
“Yes, they are certainly interesting,” Hammer Strike agreed. “But the reports speak highly of their skills.”
“And Silent did garner Clover’s attention. That’s no small feat.”
“As long as there’s no more murals on my ship,” Grif commented.
“Considering his personality, you might want to check through the lower levels,” Hammer Strike pointed out. “Feels good to be home, at least.”
“Just wait till next Tuesday,” Vital said with a smirk.
“Next Tuesday?” Grif asked.
“We do generally have to deal with some form of monster or friendship problem that inevitably stretches to New Unity, somehow,” the Unicorn noted.
“Close enough to the truth, though sometimes we get a week off,” Hammer Strike commented.
“Well, we did just have a major friendship lesson happen this week, so maybe Murphy will be nice to us this time, but I kind of doubt it.”
“Just don’t bring it up.” Hammer Strike shrugged.
Pensword sighed. “I’ll get the troops on standby now, just in case.” He looked back at Inari, still disbelieving that the Kitsune had survived for so long in the lower decks. He looked over at Grif, and then Vital. “I’m happy we’re not going to be coming back to problems. My next foals are coming soon, and I need to start getting things ready for their birth and … a few other things.”
“You do realize that’s actually Blast and Tower’s jobs now, right?” Vital asked.
“For Hammer Strike’s forces. But I still have say and word in the Thestral quarters. Not every Thestral Warrior here is under Blast and Tower’s command and authority.”
“Fair enough. Speaking of which, did anyone see how the construction was going when we were flying in? Trixie and I were a bit preoccupied.”
“Seems the dwarves got fed up with waiting for the final layer of trees to be cleared for the outermost wall. They put some of their own out in the cutting crews, just to make the work go faster. The cobblestone paths are behind, possibly because we have need of more creatures with thumbs for that kinda work, since Clover made it clear her mages aren't to be placing stones down. The towers and barracks have their foundations set, and we’re finally seeing some civilian housing set up,” Grif noted.
“So we’ll finally be able to get more traffic coming into the city other than workponies?”
“Hopefully.” Grif nodded. “Huh. That's unusual,” he said, looking down at the instruments for a few minutes.
“Something wrong?” Hammer Strike questioned.
“There’s an airship in Unity’s dock, mid-to-large design.” Grif looked to pensword. “Did Luna say anything about coming to Unity?”
“No,” Pensword replied as he looked over at the display. “The dimensions are actually smaller than Luna’s Flagship. Besides, she would dock at the Thestral areas…. Oh, that’s right. You might not have seen that request yet, Hammer Strike. We were hoping to be able to construct a dock for Luna’s Flagship in the Thestral quarters. The paperwork should be on your desk.” He turned back to Grif. “So no, this is a mystery ship to me.”
“We’ll have to see about this,” Grif noted as he began maneuvering the ship. “This is going to be a bit awkward.”
“I bet,” Pensword muttered.
“Hope you know how to parallel park,” Hammer Strike commented.
Over the next hour, Grif did his best to carefully park the Gantrithor. By the time he was done, they’d had several near-scapes, but nothing that wouldn’t buff out, thankfully. By the time he hit the switch for extending the gang plank, Grif was tired from the mental exertion.
“You want one of us to hunt down the owner of that airship for you, Hammer Strike?” Pensword asked
“Considering the look of the airship, it’s only a matter of time before they make their presence known to me.” Hammer Strike sighed. “Especially if Tower and Blast took note of the arrival of said airship.”
“Well, it could be a good thing, right?” Vital asked. “I mean, if it were bad, then you’d probably have a lot more people than Tower and Blast standing there.”
“Considering they report to me on all situations, it makes it somewhat hard to tell,” Hammer Strike noted.
“Best you go ahead and get the status report, then, I guess.” Vital shrugged. “Mind if we teleport off? Trixie and I need to unpack and check up with Clover.”
“Go for it,” Hammer Strike said and disembarked.
The two disappeared in a flash of light. Rarity had disembarked with the rest of the girls at Ponyville, since each had work they needed to get back to.
“So, where may I be of assistance?” Inari asked as he looked to his friends. “I believe there was mention of paperwork? It’s been some time since I tried my hand at origami, but I should be able to handle a load well enough.”
A few minutes later, Tower Shield appeared on the dock and carefully marched toward Hammer Strike, he was followed by a familiar figure. An older Thestral in buffed and polished lunar guard armor moved forward at a march. His dark fur had gray developing in places. His body was a road map of scars and past wounds. His right ear was torn at the middle, and he wore a patch covering his heavily-scarred left eye. His remaining eye shone with a dangerous light that gleamed with experience and danger in equal measure.
“My lord.” Tower bowed his head as they approached. “We have a visitor that needs to speak with you and Pensword.”
“Captain Nightshade, to what do I owe the unexpected visit?” Hammer Strike asked.
“Lord protector.” Nightshade gave a nod and a brisk salute. “On behalf of the lunar kingdom and the Thestral people, I have been tasked by Princess Luna to inspect all thestral colonies in the Equestrian kingdom and, if need be, get them up to standard. As the colony is on your lands, I wish to formally request permission to discharge said duties with the New Unity Thestral colony.”
“You’ve got clearance from me.” Hammer Strike shrugged. “So long as it complies with the current building standard, of course.”
“Of course.” Nightshade gave another respectful bow of the head. Then his expression hardened. “Boy, get down here and present yourself!”
Pensword was in the middle of making sure that Night Terror would have a guard of Thestral and stone mason Gryphons to escort her back to the settlement. When the order reached his ears, he turned around and flew at double pace to land next to Hammer Strike. “Reporting for duty.”
“It’s my understanding you are serving as leader for this colony. Is that correct?”
“That is correct. I sit on the council of the different tribes, and mediate between cross tribal problems.”
“Then may I ask why your colony is currently housed in wooden longhouses?”
“Because our tribal coffers weren’t full, and we only just recently hired stonemasons to help the workload. The majority of our masons have been assigned to inner city construction. We are behind schedule, I know, but we plan on the first house upgrades this summer, now that winter has passed.”
“Very well. Come along and let’s have a look at the rest,” Nightshade said as he casually lifted a hoof and deflected a suction-cup-ended bolt without even looking at it.
Pensword nodded and lifted out a board with parchment from his saddlebag. He used the board to catch one of Moon River’s famous projectiles, only to be stuck in the left wing by a second. “And I feel Moon River’s unit will try to hit you while you’re here.”
“You know how I lost this eye boy?”
“Only the rumors. I thought you would tell me when you were ready,” Pensword answered.
“It’s no secret. Gryphon attack on our southern border fifteen years before Luna’s return. Thestrals where basically border patrol then. Big brute of a tom found me indisposed. Had to fight him with my bare hooves. He got my eye with his talons; I broke his windpipe. Most important lesson I ever learned, never let your guard down for even a moment. You eat prepared, you sleep prepared, you only be unprepared when you’re dead.”
“I am open and here to take all advice and criticism for bettering our colony,” Pensword assured.
“Good. Now let’s see how much you need.”
Little Willow smiled as she knocked on the broad set of double doors in the cliff face. Her saddlebags were laden down with the loads that she had packed, and the new knife Grif had provided for her stood prominently in its sheath.
“Hello! Anybody home?”
“Hey, Willow,” Grif greeted as he opened the doors. “Sorry, was just taking care of things.”
Willow nodded. “I can come back later, if this isn’t a good time.”
“No, it’s fine.” Grif backed and invited her in with the wave of a welcoming wing. “What’s up?”
The mare passed into the hall and smiled. “I got a little something for the family. I know it’s not anybody’s birthdays, but I thought I’d be the good aunt and spoil them early.” She smirked. “I also happen to be overloaded with Granny Smith and Apple Jack’s famous apple treats. You know the ones.”
“Oh? They’re cooking up a storm?”
“Considering the fact that I married into the Apple family, naturally, Granny wants to spoil her great grandbabies, even if they are only by marriage.” She winked and pulled out a large apple pie. “Apparently, this is supposed to be good for a mare when she’s in the later stages of her pregnancy. She wanted Gilda to eat it when she was able.”
“Thanks.” Grif laughed and accepted the pie. “I’ll see she gets it.”
“And where are my nieces and nephew?”
“Tazeer is sleeping, and the girls are playing upstairs.”
“And Sylvio?”
“Whistle.” Grif chuckled.
Little Willow took a deep breath. The shrillness of the whistle that followed pierced the air and rebounded off the stone walls. The familiar rattle of wood striking wood soon answered the call as heavy moss-padded paws and clacking wooden claws echoed and thumped respectively along the floor. A few moments later, a familiar set of burning blue eyes greeted the mare as a lolling tongue licked her face and coated it with sap.
Little Willow laughed and pushed weakly at the enthusiastic timber wolf’s head. “Down, boy. Down,” she said. “Heel.”
Sylvio whined at the fact she wanted to cut his greeting short, but respected her wishes and promptly sat back on his haunches.
Little Willow took the time to wipe some of the sap off her face with her cloak, then rifled through her pack. “Got a little something from Rarity, since you’ve turned Sylvio here into a sort of mascot for the Rohirrim.” A few seconds later, she removed a large swath of fabric, complete with a familiar beak-like hood and a silver cloud-like shimmer. Sylvio was equipped seconds later. “Now you two can match.”
“Wow.” Grif chuckled. “Looking good, buddy,” he said as he rubbed the timberwolf’s head affectionately.
Sylvio barked his appreciation and leaned into the affection, then licked Grif’s hand.
“And what is a family unit without a family uniform to match?” Willow promptly pulled out three more smaller cloaks and three adult-sized ones.
“Huh, you’ve been thinking through this a lot.” Grif chuckled.
“Well, after everything you put into my wedding, it seemed only fair to return the favor. Tall Oak will probably be stopping by soon enough with his own gifts. He feels the same way I do.” She smiled and embraced Grif. “After all, you are our brother.”
“And I couldn't ask for better family.” Grif chuckled and returned the embrace. Then his breath caught. He stopped for a moment as his talons prodded her barrel experimentally, and his eyes widened. “Does Mac know?”
“Not yet.” Willow grinned. “I might have known you’d see through to my biggest surprise.”
“After Shrial caught me off guard, I figured it would be good to study up on these things. Turns out the signs are similar for both species, at first.”
“That might explain a few things about HippoGriffs and how we’re compatible.” She smirked. “So, got any ideas for some names, Uncle Grif?”
Hammer Strike hummed to himself as he sorted through several documents on his table. With himself and his assistants gone, he didn’t have anyone to really work on anything new that came up, which led to a few overlooked documents now sitting on his desk. Of course, if it was urgent, either of the shields could handle it. Sure enough, though, he heard the steady rhythmic tapping of talons and paws, and based off the shift of weight and tepid nature, it was a large Gryphon that was nervous about coming to the office, meaning it was most likely Gilgamesh. He waited until the steps drew close enough before speaking.
“You’re free to enter, Gilgamesh,” he called out, giving a faint smirk as he heard Gilgamesh jump at being called out.
“Y-yes, Sir,” he replied, opening the door slowly before entering. “I’m s-sorry to interrupt you so soon after your trip.”
“Think nothing of it.” Hammer Strike spoke gently. He almost chuckled at the situation. Gilgamesh reminded him so much of a child too nervous to speak to his parents, though obviously in the body of a very large Gryphon. “What seems to be the issue?”
Gilgamesh reached behind himself and pulled a book from his wings. “C-Clover was teaching me about elemental at-ttunement, but I can’t really grasp the c-concept that well. She told me to come to you to see if you could h-help me understand.”
“Well, I need to understand where you’re at.” Hammer Strike shuffled his papers into a drawer to be retrieved later as he took the book Gilgamesh placed on his desk.
“I just don’t get the idea of it.” Gilgamesh rubbed the back of his head. “I mean, h-how does one get an element bound to them or attuned to them?”
Hammer Strike shook his head. “It’s not quite like that. It’s … more already with you than you think.” Hammer Strike’s eyes glowed for a brief moment before extinguishing.
“So, I-I already have it with me?” Gilgamesh questioned, lost at the concept.
“Yes, actually. The best way I can explain it is by asking you a few questions. Primarily, do you notice any particular spells you cast that seem easier than others of the same level?”
“I’m n-not sure.” Gilgamesh scratched his chin in thought.
“Then we’ll have to give it a brief test.” Hammer Strike smiled as he stood up. “Come along. We’ll head to the training grounds.”
It didn’t take long for the duo to reach the inner training fields, though they kept to one of the back corners to keep attention off the timid Gryphon.
“All right,” Hammer Strike started. “We’ll go simple about it. I’d like you to go element by element and create a small orb of each type. Gather air, earth, water, fire, and potentially light, if you can manage it.”
Gilgamesh nodded as he pulled out another book from his wings and began reading through it quickly. After a few moments, he stowed it away again, held out his hands, and began focusing.
Over the course of fifteen minutes, he slowly but surely pulled up air, earth, and water into perfect spheres between his hands. It wasn’t until he came to fire that Hammer Strike could note the difference in how fast Gilgamesh could conjure it. It wasn’t remarkably faster, but it was at least ten percent more than his previous elements. Of course, when he was doing so, Gilgamesh didn’t seem to take too much notice of it before he progressed onto light, which took an equal amount of time comparative to the first three elements.
Gilgamesh let the orbs dissipate with a heavy breath. While the Gryphon could use magic, Hammer Strike could tell he wasn’t quite so advanced on the wellspring of magic he could bring forth.
“H-how was that?” Gilgamesh questioned as he wiped a light sheen of sweat from his forehead.
“You did great. Your attunement is fire, from the looks of it,” Hammer Strike replied with a smile.
“How could you tell that f-from me making orbs of e-elements?”
“Speed and power consumption,” Hammer Strike replied. After noting the confused look on Gilgamesh’s face, he continued. “When you were making the orb of fire, it took slightly less time, and the drain of energy was less than the other orbs by a margin.”
Gilgamesh looked to his hands for a moment before trying to make another ball of fire. After creating it, he produced an orb of earth. Over the course of half an hour, he produced and dissipated these orbs back and forth, until he finally began to notice a difference.
“I-I think,” he took a breath, “I think I’m s-starting to get it,” he commented, looking over his hands once again.
“Do be careful,” Hammer Strike warned. “Fire is quite a tricky one to work with, as it can just as easily hurt you if you aren’t careful. Though, I’m sure you already have heard the warnings from Clover.”
“E-each element is dangerous in its own right, some more so than o-others. Thus, we must respect b-boundaries that are in p-place and work with them,” Gilgamesh quoted, most likely from Clover’s classes, if Hammer Strike had to guess.
“Correct.” Hammer Strike smiled. “You learn quickly, when it comes to mental activity,” he noted afterwards.
“I-it’s easier for me to remember things, but I j-just can’t put them into action s-sometimes.”
“I’m sure we’ll find a workaround for that,” Hammer Strike reassured him. “Come now. I’m sure Clover will be glad to hear you’ve passed over the hurdle in your path.
Gilgamesh gave a smile. “I just wish it didn’t take as long as it did for me to grasp this.”
“Everyone has a topic that eludes them.” Hammer Strike chuckled. “Give it time and study, and I’m sure you’ll manage issues such as these just fine. Just remember that, sometimes, you’ll have to think outside of the box compared to those around you.”
“That’s fair.” Gilgamesh nodded as the two left the practice field together.
Vital Spark smiled as he trotted into the Cakes’ bakery. “Hello, Mrs Cake!” he greeted the blue mare with a cheerful smile. “Is Pinkie in today? I want to bake a rush order.”
“You don’t even have to ask, dearie. She’s in the back.” The mare giggled as she tended to the customers with a tray of goodies.
“And now I'm here!” Pinkie said. “What can I do for you, Vital Spark? More wedding cake? A giant banana cream pie that you can swim in? A poundcake ship to sail across it? Ooh, ooh, ohh! We can call it a sugar beach party!”
In order, Vital Spark was first startled into letting out an undignified whinny, followed shortly by needing to back away from the exceptionally wide grin that Pinkie was currently directing his way. “Um, no, thanks, Pinkie. I was just wondering if you could maybe cook up a batch of inspiration cupcakes?”
“Hmm.” Pinkie rubbed her chin suspiciously with a hoof. “Just how much inspiration are we talking here?”
“Just enough to get the gears turning. The person I had in mind already has plenty of creative juice.”
“Oh, good. I thought I was gonna have to door hop through peoples’ dreams again. Do you have any idea how hard it is to harvest inspiration when you have an id to deal with? I have to bribe them with like … a gazillion sugar bombs. A gazillion!”
“... And suddenly, I’m not so surprised at the Cakes’ raving success. Or the odd cravings I’ve had for sweets.”
Pinkie shrugged. “It’s a gift.” Then she handed him a to-go box filled with a dozen cupcakes covered in sprinkles that shimmered like the night sky, then blossomed into a rainbow. “So, what are they for?”
“A way to say thanks to Rarity. I wanted to ask her for help gathering some important gems for a ritual I need to perform.”
“Pshaw,” she said and waved a hoof negligently. “You don’t need Rarity for that. I happen to know the very best Pony for the job, and I can get her down here any time.”
“You can?” Vital asked.
“Sure. I’ve been meaning to get her down here for a while, anyway, to meet the girls. This’ll just make a good excuse.”
“Excuse?”
Pinkie’s hair deflated slightly. “Her boss … doesn’t like pointless trips.”
“And seeing a friend is a pointless endeavor?”
“It is, when that friend is me.” She smiled wanly, then perked up again. “But with you here, it’ll be like business. And then she can hang out with me and the girls after, and nobody gets in trouble! Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you, Vital Spark!”
“Uh….”
“I’ll write her a letter right now!” She was gone in a flash, then zoomed back just as quickly. Her body shook like a spring as she gradually straightened, then snatched a cupcake for herself and hastily stuffed it in her face. “Gonna need that. The rest are on the house!” And with that, she was gone again.
“... Okay, so now what do I do with these?” Vital asked.
Nobody answered. After all, that was just Pinkie being Pinkie. It wasn’t any of their business.
The Thestral Colony was an oddity, with two clearly different designs: the thick stone walls of Dwarven design surrounding the second layer of the city with a single gatehouse connecting the main roadway into the city. A flat well-trodden side road led toward the Thestral Lodge. A pony-high stone wall wrapped in a square around the structure, with four stone balls portraying the main phases of the moon mounted at each corner. A modest garden filled the space between the constructs, filled with a blend of flowers designed for the day and the night to provide equal beauty while retaining a modest space.
A storehouse had been built a short distance from the lodge with a smokehouse a few feet away to help cure any spare meat for future use or sale. The harsh smell of chemicals carried briefly on the wind as the last fumes from the tannery’s work were dispelled. The Residential buildings circled the lodge and were mostly wooden structures built with just enough space for ponies to walk the lanes between. Two of the structures were in the beginning stages of renovation to incorporate stone into the work for a sturdier build. Two Ponies: one a Thestral and one a Pegasus, trotted slowly to the opening in the wall. The former wore an eye patch. The latter had a pure white mane and tail.
“You have an unusually large plot of land here,” Nightshade noted as he finished observing the settlement, then looked at his clipboard. “What kind of taxes does the colony end up paying?”
“We’re paying a 7.5 percent flat tax until everything is fully settled with Lord Hammer Strike.”
“Your airships are a little too well armed for merchant standards,” Nightshade said as he pointed to the shadows in the distance. “You’ll have to restrict the weapons to regulation numbers.”
“Restrict?” Pensword asked. “I wasn’t aware of the issue. I’ll make sure to have them up to code as soon as possible.”
“And have you gained permission for the armed guards in your colony?”
“They’re waiting for the next transport home. We’ve been on a slow withdrawal, just in case anything more pops up after the last attack. According to Article Ten, Section Four in regulation, we’re actually six months ahead of the maximum time table listed.”
Nightshade gave a curt nod. “Good. We wouldn’t want to do anything to give the wrong image. This may be your colony, but the land is Hammer Strike’s, after all.”
“Of course.” Pensword looked over the roads. The late afternoon sun streamed gold over the structures in a dance of light and shadow. Thankfully, that meant the pair were left to their own devices for now, until the other Thestrals woke for their evening and nocturnal activities.
“Later on, smiths will be arriving to work on getting you used to the new standard Princess Luna has determined for our people.”
“Of course. They can set up either with the other Blacksmiths with Lord Hammer Strike or we can rig up a temporary forge for their use. How many smiths should we be expecting? I’ll have to alert Hammer Strike, so we can plan accordingly.”
“Fifteen or so. I’ll be informing Lord Hammer Strike personally.”
“Roger,” came the reply
“Very well. Let’s carry on,” Nightshade said, motioning for Pensword to lead the way.
Pensword nodded curtly and motioned with a wing. “This way, Sir.”
“So…” Grif chuckled awkwardly under Avalon’s gaze. “Triplets. That was a surprise, huh?”
“It would seem the Winds want to make sure we have four as soon as possible,” she said urbanely. “I’m still going to make you carry me when I get too big to move.”
“And here I was going to order you your own little cloud to move around on.” He smiled as he hugged her gently. “It’s going to be okay.”
“Are you sure you’ll be able to say that when my mood swings kick in?” she teased.
“You mean like the non-existent ones you had with Tazeer?” he asked.
“That was one baby. This is three.” She kissed him sweetly, even as a negligent wave of her hand sliced a timberwolf in half with a blade of wind.
“And? Admit it. You’re excited.” Grif waved a wing, turning another wolf into kindling. “I can see it in your eyes.”
Avalon smirked. “Never.” She sighed happily as a burst of wind threw several pairs of glowing red eyes against the gnarled trees of the wood. Many a startled squawk reached their ears, followed by silence. “The animals are rather lively tonight, aren’t they?”
“Seems so.” Grif nodded. “Might have to get a party together and thin them out some.”
“Or you can just talk with Hammer Strike and let El Fluffy blow off some steam with Sylvio’s pack.”
“That's true.” Grif laughed. “You speak about mood swings, but last time you were pregnant, there was only one effect on your moods that stood out.” He leaned in and whispered in her ear. “And we both really enjoyed those moods.”
Avalon shuddered. “Tease. That’s not fair.”
“I don’t have your looks. Teasing’s the only card I have to play.”
“If we weren’t dealing with fauna trying to kill us, I’d show you who’s got the real smart mouth.” She smirked. “But for now, I suppose I’ll settle with a little exercise.”
“I love you,” Grif said as he kissed her gently before turning back to their current opponents.
“So, how much do you want to bet on a hydra spicing things up?”
“I don’t make stupid bets.” Grif laughed.
“Not even for a pretty lady like me?” She gasped. “How scandalous.” Then she laughed.
“Would you bet against me at the Equestria games?” Grif returned.
“I don’t know. I’ve seen what Genevieve can do….”
“She’s not fencing.” Grif chuckled. “Otherwise, I might be in trouble.”
“Oh, well, in that case, I suppose I’ll have to wager something special, won’t I? I wonder, what would do as a suitable reward?” She purred and rubbed against him. “Any ideas?”
“Oh, I'm sure you’ll think of something.” He laughed.
“We can talk details on our way back. Oh, and maybe what color to paint the children’s rooms. They won’t be sleeping with us forever, you know.”
“Yeah, it's about time the girls should have their own rooms.” He nodded. “Come on. Let’s get home.”
A series of piercing roars and reptilian shrieks rang through the air, shaking the trees and frightening the lesser predators away.
“Hydra.” Avalon grinned viciously as the wind gathered around her talons. “I bucking called it.”
Big Guns snorted the sweat from his nose as he laid up the battle axe from the day’s sparring session. His tendrils had regained their dark red color and grown into a series of interwoven braids that could shift at his will, as the two had discovered one morning in a particularly brutal fight. He plunged a ladle into a nearby water barrel and doused his head to revitalize his mane and help ward off the absorption of the sun's rays on his black fur. Then he took a drink for himself.
“That was incredible!” He grinned at the tall blue steer who smiled proudly in turn and nodded gently.
“Iron Will sees you’ve made significant progress. You’re a different bull than when he first laid eyes on you.”
“Thanks to your training. You do a great job as a coach. It kind of makes me wonder, though. Why did you decide to come here to Equestria when there are others you could train back at the Stampede Grounds?
“Iron Will was in the area.”
“I meant with the whole program you started for Ponies being more assertive. I heard what happened from some of the other troops. What made you leave the Stampede Grounds to come here and start something like that up in the first place?”
Iron will shrugged. “There are many who can train the young in the Stampede Grounds. Iron Will was seeking his own path. Ponies needed help, and Iron Will needed money to send home. It seemed a fair trade.”
“No other reasons?”
“Not really. Of course, the chance to meet and train a new Minotaur was unexpected. Perhaps that is why Iron Will felt the need to come to Equestria.” He smiled again and lifted the barrel to drink directly from the source. Once he drank his fill, he lowered the container to the ground again and sighed in satisfaction. “But now Iron Will’s job is done. You aren’t a greenhorn anymore, Big Guns. You’ve learned to fight, to handle the instincts, and to be your own bull. Iron Will has taught you all there is to teach.”
“Wait, what do you mean done? I’m hardly past the basics for handling a warhammer!”
Iron Will laughed and shook his head, then smacked Big Guns familiarly on the back.“That’s a good one! No, Big Guns has all the knowhow he needs. All you have to do now is practice. Iron Will has already discussed the details with Hammer Strike. He’ll be leaving at the end of the month.” He smirked. “After all, you’re one of Iron Will’s most successful Pony clients. Now Iron Will can help other Ponies even more.”
Big Guns laid a burly arm around Iron Will’s shoulders. “In that case, then Big Guns thinks it’s time for a meal first, then maybe a wrestling match after.” He smirked. “If I’m going to lose my teacher, you can bet I’m going to make every last second count.”
The big blue Minotaur smiled. “Iron Will would expect nothing less.”
“Hello?” Grif eyed his surroundings with confusion. Everywhere he looked, obsidian walls greeted him. The floor beneath him, even the roof was obsidian, leaving little to no light. Even his Gryphon night vision had trouble picking things out. Over the next few minutes that felt like hours, his eyes began to pick up small details drawing a rough image of what he was staring at. A dais seemed to rise from the floor in front of him. Four pillars erupted from the raised surface. Each was obsidian, but pulsed with a blue light that showed the etchings of the winds across the dark surface.
There was a burst of purple flames as chains of ebony seemed to burn into existence around the pillar and inwards. In the center of the pillars, the purple flames conglomerated into a massive fireball. And at its center was a sphere formed of the same ebony chains. They rattled and shrieked as whatever lay within fought for freedom.
We know you are there! The voice was like a whisper, comforting, yet dreadful. It held the edge of the last breath of a dying Gryphon and the first breath a cub takes. We see your soul. We feel our touch already. Come closer. Let us caress you!
Grif took an involuntary step back. “Where am I? What are you?”
Feel privileged, child. For few can claim to have seen the elder gleam with their living eyes. As for my identity? Well, surely you know that. After all, you have so frequently called upon my power. The voice chuckled. In Grif’s head. And I, of course, willingly gave it. For who of the winds could deny our most favored child? Our precious avatar.
“Why am I here?” Grif asked.
Only the soul of a god can see this plane. The soul of a god or the soul of one who may yet achieve a greatness surpassing all others. You have been brought here to release us.
“Why would I ever release you?”
The voice was surprisingly calm, despite the struggle that raged within the confines of its prison. Our anger has cooled in the past millennia. We have finished our grieving and wish to prepare a place for our siblings. It was we who looked after our children when our siblings were so ungratefully cut from you. Give us our freedom and the second born shall once more rise to greatness.
“Why should I believe you?” Grif gave a dry laugh. “If what you say is true, then when the Winds return, they will look after you.”
Our brother, he of the North Wind, of war and rage, and the one who drives ever forward, he has not forgiven us. He will not visit us, and we will never be free if it is his choice. The task must be yours, Avatar. The voice paused, as if to gather its thoughts. But your doubt is understandable. It is clear that you do not trust us. You are angry with us for what we have given to you. But you are the one who asked. You are the one who opened that door. We simply answered your call.
The time will come where you You will seek our power again soon enough, and we shall bargain with you then for our release. For now, we offer a gift in good faith. Your prey, the shade, rears his head and will soon be made known to you. He consorts with powers still yet beyond your ability. When you are in need, you will return to us, and we will be waiting to prove ourselves again.
“Sombra? He’s moving? Where is h—?” Grif was cut off as the darkness consumed him. He woke on his bed, panting heavily. He examined his surroundings, and his eyes adjusted to the room quickly as he did so.
Two inquisitive eyes blinked in the darkness as Tazeer raised his head to peer at his father. His head cocked as he took in the Gryphon’s shape.
“Hey, buddy.” Grif gave a somewhat forced grin as he patted his son’s head. “Hope I didn't wake you.”
Tazeer shook his head, and his feathers rustled silently. He slid stealthily from under his mother’s wing and approached his father, then laid a taloned hand against his chest, followed by a brief nuzzle and a quiet purr as he curled up between his father’s forelegs.
Grif found himself calming down between the purring of his son and the sound of his heartbeat. The older Gryphon’s own heartbeat gradually slowed. Curling his talons protectively around the cub, he laid his head down beside Tazeer. Within a few minutes, sleep managed to find him again. A good, deep sleep.
A slow and gentle round lulled its way through the air as Vital Spark played his bow over the strings. He sighed forlornly and allowed the magic to slowly ebb as he played a final chord to end the song, then returned the instrument to its case. Then he approached the large bookshelf that held all his and Trixie’s reference tomes, including those borrowed from Clover for the sake of class assignments.
“Let’s see. Ancient Defenses, a treatise in Lay Lines and their Potential to Power Wards. Then there’s Mamonga’s reference guide to incursions. His dungeon crawling chapters will probably prove particularly useful.” He tapped his chin in thought as he levitated the volumes in question onto a large desk and peered over each of the spines. “Now what else…?” He smacked his forehead. “Of course, I’ll need books on magical excavation and archaeology. How could I be so dense?”
Aria chirped and whistled.
“Yes, I know it was an obvious choice.” He sighed. “Trying to prepare for these kinds of things always puts me on edge.”
The bird flew over and alighted on top of the magically compressed shelving unit. She cocked her head in question and whistled as she twisted it back and forth.
“Because something inevitably goes wrong every single time something like this comes up. The best-laid plans get thrown out the window, and then we have to improvise with whatever we have on hoof. It twists my stomach in knots just thinking about it.”
Aria whistled two notes, the first an octave lower than the second that then slurred a third lower at the end.
“Nah. Can’t tell anyone else about it. It’s top secret. If the wrong ears were to hear what we’re doing, it’d be a mess, and quite possibly a bloodbath. Nobody wants that.”
The phoenix glided onto Vital’s shoulder and ran her beak comfortingly through his mane.
“Thanks. I’d feel a lot more confident if I had some contracted spirits and deities to help back us up. You know, as a last resort, just-incase kind of thing.” He sighed and levitated another tome off the shelf. A second zap from his horn easily marked it with a rune, and a third shrunk it down to the size of a piece of candy. “Intermittent to Advanced Healing Spells, courtesy of Aqua Viva.” He frowned and levitated another text. “Survival in the Barren Wastes by Lean Strider.” He hesitated briefly, then levitated four more identically bound books. “Volumes one through five.”
This time Aria pecked her partner on the head and chirped in annoyance.
“Yes, I know I’m starting to sound like Twilight, okay? I just want to be able to build off the knowledge I gained in Zebrica. As Grif and Clover both would say, hope for the best, but plan for the worst.”
Aria rolled her eyes.
“Oh, so you’re saying you don’t want me to come home in one piece?” Vital countered.
The phoenix squawked her outrage at the sentiment and drew up her plumage as the temperature around her dropped.
“Relax, Aria. I’m only teasing.” Vital smiled and dropped the books to join its fellows in his satchel. “I know how much you care. It’s why you’ve always been so honest with me about overpreparing in the first place. Then again, that could also have to do with your relatively young age.”
Aria stuck out her tongue at him and alighted on her perch to preen her feathers again.
Vital chuckled. “Well, excuuuuuuse me, princess.” He smiled as he resumed his search. “Now where did I put that book on elemental manipulation?”
Pensword sat down to his desk, and was surprised to see a few Gryphons waiting for him. Dakota was keeping them in line. A smile crossed the commander’s face as he noted the beaks that laid on his desk. It appeared the payments for his past services were finally coming through.
A series of letters from various Gryphon families laid on his desk. This gave Pensword pause. Why were Gryphons writing to him as well? Were these letters that he was to convey to the spirit realm somehow? Did the Gryphons wish to use him as a two-way meditator? Frankly, he didn’t even know if his ability worked that way. He would have to look into that later. Dakota would likely have the answer. Right now was the time to tend to the souls.
A Gryphon dressed in armor that looked more out of a museum placed him from an era closer to the Second Gryphon War. His request was surprisingly straightforward. “Do not answer any letters begging of you to try to introduce them to Avatar Grif in hopes of seeing the Khopesh. You have no authority to answer or grant such letters.”
Pensword looked aghast at the envelopes. They may as well have been coated in poison. “If that’s what these letters are about, you have my promise I will not act on them. To do such a thing would be akin to Thestrals asking Grif if they could see a lost treasure of ours, were Grif the one to recover it.” He sighed and shook his head. “I’ll open them to peruse the contents. If any bear such requests, you have my assurance they’ll be forwarded to Grif to deal with. I have no desire to meddle in such things. Faust and Slephnir know I’ll just get tangled up with your kind again eventually.”
“Know your place,” the spirit broke off for a moment as he bit the first word back. “Pony.” it appeared this Gryphon had decided to grant Pensword the distinction of a more equal role, rather than the usual racial slur. Given the effort required to curb that particular habit, it seemed only fair to offer more civility in turn.
“So, to whom do I need to address this letter?” Pensword asked.
“To Grif.”
“Okay.” Pensword pulled parchment and inkwell to him. “How do you want to begin?”
“To my Grandson’s Grandson. I wish to convey how you have brought great honor to our house.” He paused as he Pensword snapped his quill and gawked at the Gryphon.
Pensword cleared his throat and quickly regained his composure as he fished for a new quill. “Forgive me. Your claim of lineage took me by surprise. Still, it does beg the question. What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be flying on the winds by now?”
The spirit sighed. “As a chick, I made a foolish oath that I would not rest until the khopesh was found. It seems that the Winds allowed an unorthodox means of fulfillment. I wish to congratulate my grandson and warn him of the dangers that those of not just Gryphon but Ponykind will present in their efforts to wield such a historic artifact. You know how far our culture has fallen. There are factions in the Empire who would see that weapon in Pony lands an affront to our culture and history, even if the Avatar wields it. And there are those in your noble courts who would deem the return of our gods a serious threat to their dominance and superiority, both magically and technologically.”
Pensword nodded. “Okay, then. This changes things. Family and emergency information discou—”
“I will pay in full.” The tone brooked no argument. “This will be my only letter.”
This time, Pensword’s upset led to a spilled inkwell. He sighed as he doused the substance with the sand dispenser to absorb the extra contents and dry the paper before he removed it and laid a fresh piece of parchment over the table. A fresh quill and inkwell soon followed, and he began the letter anew.
The missive was lengthy in its wording and details. After nearly an hour dictating the whole message, he finally rolled the scroll and prepared the wax that would seal the message. The warrior smiled as the deed was done, and started to fade as a breeze swirled around the room to rustle parchments. Grif’s grandfather’s grandfather had finally moved on.
Hammer Strike hummed to himself as he turned over a knife in his hooves, studying the blade to ensure it was aligned properly. After visiting Manehattan and finding more of Silent Collectors allies, he felt it was finally time to gear them up and send them out accordingly.
Silent Collector used knives, which was certainly easy for Hammer Strike, since he had made plenty for Grif and others, mostly Grif. Oracle was an intel gatherer, and refrained from fighting when possible. Feline strangely used a whip, which was a little outside of his usual metalworking, but the experience of making something different was well worth it in his eyes. Inari used a katana, and while Hammer Strike knew the process, he disliked the process, due to the length of time needed to create one of good quality. Stormwall Breaker, interestingly enough, prefered more hoof-to-hoof-oriented combat, and seemed comfortable with weighted gauntlets.
To say their list of equipment was interesting was one way of putting it.
Though they had magic, it appeared that most of them lacked any form of combat magic training or were simply making it up as they went on in the past. Hammer Strike frowned to himself as he placed the knife down and began working on the wrap.
“Perhaps I could discuss things with Clover,” he muttered to himself.
“What was that, Sir?” Dross Caster asked as she turned from her current duty.
“Nothing.” Hammer Strike waved her off. “I’m just thinking aloud. Still not used to there being anyone else in here. Speaking of which,” he directed his attention toward her, “how are the blades coming along?”
“The materials you gave me are being temperamental, but I think I finally got the blend right this time around.”
“Good. Once you’ve got that down, we can start looking into furthering your training.” He hummed to himself. “Perhaps I’ll let you pick something you’ve wanted to learn this time.”
Caster blushed. “Well, if it isn’t too much trouble, I’d … like to try forging a better version of my weapon.”
“It’s been some time since I made a good mace.” He chuckled. “Sure, I’ll make a few tonight to ensure I’ve still got it perfectly committed to memory.”
Dross Caster grinned in delight.
Pensword knocked heavily on the great doors to Grif’s new home. He looked about at the first signs of carvings and reliefs into walls of this future fortress. He had the sealed letter for him, as well as a few letters that he knew Grif would get to the needed places, all he needed to do was wait for Grif or one of his wives to answer the door.
Grif answered the door a few minutes later. “Pensword? Whats up?”
“Uh, I have a scroll for you, from your great great grandfather. He insisted on paying the full price.” He passed the scroll’s container over. “Giving you some kudos for finishing his quest for him, and some warning.” Then he passed another satchel. “These are to be delivered through your network, warnings mainly to stop plots against you, and to maybe wait two generations before trying to marry into your flock. The Grandmother told me I could tell you that tidbit.” The way he spoke it was very, business as usual, even if he was delivering scrolls from the dead. “Also, can you check up on the Redtail flock? They’re a month overdue on paying me for six scrolls.”
“I’ll send a messenger.” Grif nodded as he collected the documents. “Your sure about the great grandfather thing? I’m an orphan, Pensword. As far as culture goes, they shouldn’t even want to acknowledge me.”
“He is the one that sired the direct line that eventually birthed your father,” Pensword replied. “Also, you allowed him to finally get the rest he so desperately sought by fulfilling his oath. You also are the holder of the khopesh. Gryphon Culture will have me as a footnote, if that. They will see you as the Avatar who brought back the Gods. Something like that far overshadows that small detail that you were an orphan.” He smirked. “Maybe more orphans will be adopted on the off chance they bring as much honor as you have created for your new clan.” He shrugged. “But with how much glory and honor you’ve bathed your feathers in, the spirits, at least, are acknowledging your status.” He paused for a time and tapped his chin in thought. “Then again, what do I know?”
“They call it glory. I call it blood.” Grif sighed. “But I suppose it can't hurt to read it later.” He shook his head. “When the hell did I get wrapped up in politics? I’m a fighter, not a diplomat.”
Pensword snorted in laughter. “Whatever you say, Bones.” He fought to wipe the smile off his muzzle. “I’m a Bat Bird, and look at what happened to me. I think Faust has need of those not born into politics.”
“Bones?” Grif raised an eyebrow.
“Dr. Lenord McCoy, from Star Trek. ‘Dammit, Jim, I’m a doctor not a bricklayer’” Pensword quoted, hoping to jog Grif’s human memory.
“Never was one for the original series, Pensword.” Grif chuckled. “Kirk was too cavalier with his people's lives for my liking.”
“And my favorites were Sisko, Kirk, Picard, Janeway,” Pensword responded. “Seems the Federal Government gave me a First Contact human TV culture collection. I have all the old Star Trek Series from Enterprise to Voyager. Come on by and we’ll have a TNG party.” He paused. “Oh, let me know of any old TV series you want me to gather. I’ve been writing down a list to add next time we’re on Earth again.”
“I have everything I need.” Grif chuckled.
“Oh? Do you have Due South or Red Green?” Pensword asked hopefully.
“I am Canandian. Is that even a question?”
“Swing by with some of them. I remember being a foal watching it on PBS. It’ll be fun to watch again. Maybe we’ll get some ideas to do around New Unity.” He chortled with glee.
“I’ll do that.” Grif chuckled in return. “Anything else you need?”
“Not really, but we should plan out some time to just hang out and spend some time, because after the next set of foals are born, it’s going to be a bit busy. We live in the same town in flying distance. We should spend more time together.” He paused as a conspiratorial grin crossed the muzzle, “We need to get Hammer Strike to see some of these as well, just have a guy’s night out or something.”
“We’ll see how it goes.” Grif chuckled again. “I’ve got a few kids coming soon, too,” he noted.
“Very true,” Pensword quipped back. “We should plan it sooner, rather than later.”
“All right, fillies, listen up!” Grif stood in front of a large gathering of troops. They were varied in species and branch, but all held one uniting factor. “You’re all here because you put your name forth and proved yourselves capable enough to represent New Unity in the Equestria games. This is to be considered your forward briefing on events that are coming up in regards to that.” He eyed them carefully. Normally, this would be Blast and Tower’s jobs, but as neither had put their names forward for the games, the duty fell to Grif as the highest ranking member of Hammer Strike’s court who would be participating.
“Next week, we will be boarding a train to take to Rainbow Falls, where we will be participating in the qualifiers for the various events that each of you was found suitable for.” Grif pulled an eepee from his side. Hammer strike had not been entirely thrilled about making the weapon, and Grif admittedly understood his feelings. The weapon, if one could truly call it that, only held the outlier of lethal ability by design, lacking edges or a point. The only way Grif could see it doing anything meaningful would be to snap it in two and impale it through the eye. Either way, he held it aloft.
“As you know I will be representing us for fencing, so I want you all to do the smortsmanly thing and pray for the poor souls who end up against me.” The comment received a good round of chuckles. “As for the rest of you, I will not say I expect great things from any of you.” This led to looks of anger, sadness, and confusion for a few minutes before he continued. “I don’t expect great things, because I know you will all be great. To expect implies a degree of doubt, and I have no doubt that win, lose, or draw, each and every one of you will prove themselves worthy to follow the banner we have all worked so hard for. Be you in the military or civilian games, I know each of you will give Lord Hammer Strike your all. I will not offer you threats or bribe you with prizes. All I do is state the facts to you.”
Grif sheathed the eepee in a fluid motion. “Every one of you will be receiving double pay for the days in the qualifier and during the games, regardless of if you qualify or not. Lord Hammer Strike has also generously made preparations for travel, housing, and the entrance fee to the families of any of you who wish to attend the games. Should you become unwell or injured during the games, your medical expenses will likewise be covered by Hammer Strike’s own funds. We have contracted several counselors and therapists of various types. Feel free to make use of them whenever they are free, up until the games. The only way in which your benefits could be stripped is if you should be caught using any kind of unfair play. But I know you all are far too honorable for that. That being said, we will all be submitting to regular tests for substances and spells until the games are completed. Anyone who objects to this should leave now.”
No soldier moved. They stood staring ahead with emotions mixed, but generally positive.
“Very well. You are all dismissed. No drills or duties for the rest of the day. You all report here at 08:00 tomorrow to begin going over preparations for what's to come. Go, eat, sleep. I want to see you all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed.” Grif offered a Rohirrim salute and the various soldiers each responded with their own salute before dispersing.
Vital Spark smiled as he drank calmly from the steaming cup provided courtesy of Octavia as they sat by the small table in her side of the studio. “Thank you for the tea.”
“Of course.” Octavia smiled as she poured her own cup. “Now, what was it that you wanted to discuss with me?”
“Well, to be blunt, Octavia, it’s about the orchestra’s musical arrangements. We’ve been playing classical pieces like waltzes and rondos and the like, but there are so many other kinds of music out there that we can try, pieces that I think can set us apart from the usual crowds.”
The mare sipped her tea carefully. “Such as?”
“Well, country, for one.” Tea splattered the thin shield the Unicorn had raised in anticipation of the reaction as Octavia choked and sputtered.
“Country. In a recital hall?”
“Well, you already have pop music and techno for different artists and stages, and I know that most musicals generally use scores that aren’t strictly classical in nature, or at least not in the traditional sense. But it seems like that’s about all you ever try to stick to when you’re working with the orchestra. I asked around with the other players, and they were just as stumped as I was. Is there a reason why you haven’t tried branching out with us? I mean, you collaborate with Vinyl on a regular basis, and that’s far from traditional, so why can’t we do the same?”
“Because—”
“I mean, think about it. We’d be a niche market. You could get so many more gigs this way, not just the nobility. You saw how everypony reacted to that music you played for the Ponytones at my wedding. Just imagine how all those other audiences would feel.”
“But that’s such a limited audience,” Octavia countered, once she’d gotten her breathing under control again.
“One that’s only going to get bigger and more diverse with every passing year,” Vital countered. “New Unity is being restored to its former glory, Octavia. That means that by the time Hammer Strike’s through with it, it’s going to become a bustling metropolis full of all manner of species and races from all walks of life.”
“But the nobles—”
“Won’t matter in the long run. You can make much more selling tickets to a broader audience than you would if you sought private gigs with the Canterlot nobility. I’ve heard what they can do under your leadership, Octavia. Heck, I’ve participated in it, myself. We can do this. At the very least, you can consider it as a means to help everypony relax and loosen up before we get into the other pieces, something just for fun, you know?”
“Such as?”
Vital levitated a score out from his satchel. “I thought we could start with a little something closer to your roots. Fiddlesticks is already on board to help train the other violinists, if you’re up for it. And I guarantee this piece will get peoples’ hearts rarin’ to go.”
Octavia shuddered. “Country?”
“This is a piece that I can guarantee has never been heard by a major audience, Pony or otherwise, in all of Equis. It’s fun, simple, and good for a smile. Just try it once. I guarantee you won’t be disappointed.”
Octavia raised a skeptical brow.
“As I said, it’s a short fun piece that shouldn’t impact the main production schedule. If the others enjoy it, too, then it could provide a new opening for everypony. Just look it over and give it a chance.”
Octavia’s hoof dragged the score reluctantly, then flipped the pages open. “I’ll consider it,” she finally allowed. “But I insist on being allowed enough time to review the material first.”
“Fine. But if you want to make any revisions or alterations, please make sure to do so on your own sheet music. This is the only copy I have.”
“A fair arrangement,” Octavia agreed as she put the book aside. “And now that that’s over and done with, we can get down to another matter I wanted to discuss.”
“Yes?”
“Vinyl and I are working on a piece that requires violin accompaniment. We were wondering if you might be interested in joining us for the collaboration.”
Unlike her guest, Octavia Melody did not have the benefit of a forcefield. She casually parted her sopping mane from over her face and said flatly, “I’ll take that as a yes.”
“So I assume you have gotten the correct licenses for your warehouses on both the local and national level?” Nightshade asked Pensword. “Copies weren’t in your documents.”
“I do. The files are in the New Unity archives and the Canterlot National Archives. I did include a note stating that I’m still waiting for my copies to be delivered,” Pensword replied.
“What about your food supply? Are you sustainable?”
“At the exact moment? Yes, but we are working to be ready for the population boom that’s coming in about a month. As for hunting, we’re working with the Gryphons to keep from overhunting the forest.”
“You have plans for walls or such marking your colony’s borders?” Nightshade inquired.
“Eventually, yes. I’m planning to work with the council and hold a contest on what type of wall, how high, that sort of thing. Try to get the whole community together for it.”
“Interesting choice.” Nightshade nodded. “I’ll have to talk to Lord Hammer Strike about a few issues. After that, I'll have my final assessments.”
Pensword nodded. “I understand. I look forward to hearing what your assessment will be.”
Extended Holiday Chapter 160: Respect Mah Authoritay!
“First off, I'd like to thank you for making time to speak with me, Lord Hammer Strike.” Nightshade inclined his head. “Your schedule must be busy, and I wouldn't want to hold you up.”
“It’s perfectly fine. I cleared up some time for this meeting, actually,” Hammer Strike replied. “Honestly, I didn’t know how long it would take, so I cleared a couple hours, just in case.”
“I appreciate your forethought. The inspection of the colony has been going well, but I thought there were a few matters I needed to ask your own input on.” Nightshade brought out a folder. “The documents I have for the land allocation are almost entirely from the Thestral side. The only one from your end was a late allocation permit from an ‘After Thought’ for an area of land smaller than the current colony.”
Hammer Strike sighed. “After Thought’s version is going to be the more accurate one.” He began sorting through a few drawers in his desk. “One moment. I should have the exact measurements.” He fished out a large scroll with the label Segment Two, Sector Three. “Here you are.”
“This is a lot shorter than the land the Thestrals are currently using,” Nightshade noted.
Hammer Strike rubbed his forehead. “I’ve had the conversation with Pensword a couple of times by this point, but it seems to miss its mark each time. Honestly, I’ve been tempted to go down there and start dealing with it myself, but I’ve been putting some faith in Pensword to fix it.”
Nightshade sighed. “I’ll be bringing this up with him, and Luna, if need be. If this got out, it could be bad for the reputation of our people.”
“Hence why I’ve been holding off on going down there myself.” He sighed. “It doesn’t help that he’s been suddenly working on a warehouse and airship dock to add on to it all.”
“I thank you for your patience, Lord Hammer Strike. I’ve noticed that aside from the … dwarves? I believe they call themselves, I’ve seen Gryphons about lending their stone work or other skills to building your city. What are the Thestrals doing for New Unity?”
Hammer Strike blinked a few times before bringing a hoof up to his chin. “Occasionally, the smiths end up buying some leather from them.”
“Is that it?”
“To be honest, the other thing they supply is some form of assistance to the economy by purchasing resources, though they have some debt as of now. They don’t add on much, but they keep adding more to work with.”
“That's something we’ll have to work on. It will be harder to integrate with the rest of Equestria if we don’t have anything to offer.” Nightshade nodded. “Are there any other concerns you’d like to bring up with me?”
“Honestly?” Hammer Strike sat back in his chair. “I hardly know them, any of them, besides the ones that enrolled into my guard units. I don’t know a thing that goes on out there until it’s happening or has happened. I have no idea what to give you for concerns.”
Nightshade frowned. “I’ll work on that immediately. You are the ruling noble of the area. You should be able to have a connection with all of your people.”
“Honestly, at this point, I feel like I had better connections during the Third Gryphon War, and I worked solo.”
“That was neither the intention nor the wishes of Princess Luna.” Nightshade nodded. “I suppose the last issue I need to bring up with you is the possibility of making use of some of your forges until we can get something suitable made in the colony itself. Princess Luna wants Thestrals to have their own distinctive style on the battlefield, and some Thestral smiths are making their way here to work on that issue.”
“I believe there is some free space in the forges. I’d offer you the use of my forge, but it’s kept at a much higher temperature than most can handle.” He reached into his coat and began searching around. After a moment he pulled out a fang-like dagger marked by his house symbol and using rare resources. He held it out for Nightshade. “I trust you, as you work as the right hoof of Luna. With this emblem, you carry my authority in my land.”
Nightshade took the dagger with a deep bow of the head. “I am honored by your trust, Lord Hammer Strike, and will do my best to be worthy of it.”
“I’m positive you will.”
Zecora sipped idly at a cup of tea and peered across the table at her brother as they sat around the stump table that had grown in her tree. “Vital Spark. It’s been some time. And I must say this tea blend is simply sublime.”
“I’m glad you enjoyed it.” Vital chuckled. “You know, it’s odd. I feel so at home in this place now, but I’m still not sure exactly what I want to actually do once my training is complete. I mean, Trixie and I will have to make a future for ourselves together eventually. And that future may take us away from here. I’m not sure if I’m comfortable with that. And then there’s the whole responsibility of being an ambassador between the worlds, assuming that we can actually create a stable connection between Earth and Equis again.”
“The future isn’t my area of expertise, Vital. You know that,” she said in Zwahili.
“I’m not asking for a fortune, Zecora, just a place to vent about some of my anxieties. There’s going to be a lot of work ahead. And a lot of danger. I’m not really sure where my place is supposed to be in all that, and that makes me uneasy.”
Zecora lowered her cup and sighed. “It’s the nature of mortals to bear such things. Doubts, fears, anxiety. All these act as reminders to cherish the time we have in life. I would be worried about you, if you weren’t at least somewhat anxious.”
“Speaking of mortality, what of you? Do you know how long things are going to continue for you?”
“Long enough. I have grown used to the weight of the years. It helps having people I trust to talk to about it. Until you came back, I had to rely on a mischievous Satyr named Azeez.”
“There are Satyrs here?” Vital asked with some surprise.
“One very special one.” She smiled warmly. “Gaia loves him very much.”
“And what about you?”
Zecora shrugged. “He is what he is. Like me, he watches over some very important secrets.”
“And some very ancient magics, I would guess.”
Zecora smirked. “Naturally.”
“Anybody else who’s outside the norm that I should know about?”
Zecora chuckled.“Now where would be the fun in telling you that? In the words of a Hippogriff I met once, ‘spoilers.’”
“So, Day Moon, why must you never pick a mandrake root without ear protection?” Grif asked the thestral foal. They were currently working on their nightly lessons.
“Their cry would kill you.”
“Yes,” Grif agreed. “Now, if they’re so deadly, why are they kept around?”
Day Moon stifled a yawn. “It helps ease pregnancy, and they have other healing factors as well.”
Grif nodded. “Mandrakes have the ability to cure non-stone-based petrification as well. I’m glad to see you’ve been keeping up to your reading. Has Ping been working you hard while I've been away?”
“Yes. Father is a little worried about my last batch of fletching. I did them half asleep, and he inspected them before I could go back and fix them.”
“Yeah. Eventually, you’ll get used to working on less sleep. Honestly, given the nature of creatures you’ll hunt, you should be thankful you’re nocturnal naturally.”
“That’s what Ping and my father said. He’s been reading up on the Civilian access information, so he can plan in defenses for Colonies and cities as they’re being built.”
“Unfortunately, there is only so much you can defend against, and only so much that will work all the time. Wolfsbane is a good example of how common knowledge can be wrong. Many would tell you wolfsbane is a good poison against werewolves, and they’d be dead wrong. Lycanthropy causes them to heal far too quickly for it to do more than irritate them. Do you know what creature you use wolfsbane against?” Grif asked.
“The Canine Skinwalker,” Day Moon responded immediately.
“Okay, so if you're facing an undead, why is it important to know their religious beliefs before going after them?”
“Because I wouldn’t use a Gryphon Wind Talisman on an Undead Diamond Dog.
“Good job. When it comes to undead, it comes down to faith, both yours and theirs. If they have no faith in the god you’re trying to bring to bare against them, he has no direct power over them. So how goes your crossbow training?”
“Doing well. Dad’s been letting me use his first crossbow,” Day Moon replied. “It’s a bit different, but then again, he said you’d understand which one when I said Chewbaca.” He frowned in confusion. “I don’t know what that means, but I’m guessing you won’t tell me, even if I ask.” He sighed. “Either way, I’m nowhere as good as Dad is.”
“Have you been working on getting the ability to sanctify water?” Grif asked.
“I’m not old enough for that, according to Dad. Till I am, Dad says he’ll provide a steady supply. There’s more power if the water is provided from a family member.”
Grif nodded as he set several vials down for the Thestral. “Careful with these. This is the most versatile weapon we possess. The greater part of our quarry is weak to this.”
Day Moon slowly and gingerly began to pack the vials with his supplies. “Thanks for marking them,” he said.
Grif fixed the young Thestral with a piercing stare. “You’re marked, Day Moon. You know that, right?”
Day Moon nodded. “Yes. High Cheiftess Luna said that even if I didn’t take this path, those that lurk in the shadows would hunt me out first.”
Grif nodded. “I know you're young. And were it within my power, I’d keep you hidden until you’re ready. But, unfortunately, you are a beacon to those you would hunt. You must always be ready. Never let your weapons be out of arm's reach, even when you sleep. And keep these vials close by along with salt and wrought iron.”
“I keep a set of wrought iron horseshoes under my bed and pillow. Salt is in a pouch that I can reach and throw quickly.”
“Good. In a few weeks, we may go out to hunt, and you can get your first taste of what we’re going to be doing.”
“If you say I’m ready for my first hunt, I’ll go.”
Grif chuckled mirthlessly. “Being ready is a myth. No one is truly ready. Have you found a weapon you can use better than a sword yet?”
“Well, I seem to be developing an unusual knack for the whip.”
Grif laughed loudly at hearing that. “That's too good.” He took a few moments to collect himself. “I’ll see about getting to work on something for you, then.”
“Thank you?” Day Moon questioned.
“Don’t thank me yet. You go get some rest, take the next couple of nights off.” Grif’s shoulders continued to bounce with mirth as he casually dropped a small sack of bits and rose to leave. “Maybe take some time to try and impress a certain filly.” He winked.
Day Moon blushed hard at the words. “If you say so.” He stood up and finished packing his supplies while his ears and eyes swivelled for any signs of a surprise attack. Painful experience had taught him Grif and Ping were not above such tactics, and neither would any other creature of the night he faced. Still, one question weighed almost as heavily as the pouch when he picked it up. What would he do with Scootaloo?
If asked, most people in Unity would likely tell you that the fortress did not possess a greenhouse of any sort. If you asked Clover the Clever, you’d probably wake up somewhere in Zebrica with your memory scrambled.
And so it was that Vital Spark found himself dressed in thick gardening gear looking upon a massive glass and stone structure filled with various plants, most of which where lazily soaking up the sunlight above, a fact that was even more mind boggling as the structure was nearly a full mile below ground.
“Quartz or sunstones?” Vital asked curiously as he gazed up at the ceiling. “Or is it more space manipulation?”
“A little bit of all three and a few other things. Primarily, the light comes from several small artificial suns. The glass is more to shield from the harsh light and heat.
“I’m gonna guess you came up with this magic after Celestia already came into the picture?”
“I didn’t make them,” Clover admitted. “I just set them in place.”
“Hammer Strike?”
“Yes.” Clover nodded. “They became unneeded on the surface, so I brought them down here. It meant I could keep fresh reagents available, even the dangerous kind.”
“... This place must have been overrun when you visited it after your release, then. Just how much of the original herbs and plants were left?”
“Not entirely.” Clover chuckled. “Even I couldn’t look after this place constantly. I had some help, of course.”
“Golem, spirit, or something else?”
His answer came with a strange pig-like squeal as a small bipedal creature appeared nearby. It had orange skin that was covered in a thin layer of brown hair and wore ramshackle cloth and moss patches on its body. Its face had a flat pig-like snout and dark eyes.
“G’day, Missus. You bein’ visitin’ us today?” the creature asked curiously.
“Good morning, Urthcap.” Clover smiled warmly. “I and my assistant have just come to harvest a few of the mandrakes for an experiment.” She turned and motioned to the white Unicorn with her horn. “Urthcap, this is Vital Spark. He’ll be working with me for a while, so you’re likely to see him here occasionally.” Clover gestured to the unicorn. “Vital, this is Urthcap the hobgoblin. He and his family tend to the greenhouse for me.”
Vital smiled and extended a hoof. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Urthcap.”
“Pleasure’s bein’ all mine, Messir.” The hobgoblin gratefully shook the hoof. “It being a long while since we seen a new face down here.”
“I hope you don’t mind a fellow with two faces.” Vital chuckled as he levitated the earmuffs from his satchel. “Though I promise you I’m not one to actually be two-faced.”
“If’n the missus trusts ye, then ye’re welcome here.” The hobgoblin gave a bow. “Enjoy your time with the babes. I bein’ round, if’n you need me.” And with that, he was gone.
“Just how many fae are there here in Equis?” Vital asked as he levitated the spare pair of earmuffs to his mentor.
“Not many. Fae are a rarity these days. In the past, they used to come and go quite often. My research has said Breezies were likely originally pixies at one point. Anything too alien seemed to vanish, and only the more bestial types like hobgoblins stayed around,” Clover said as she accepted the pair.
“So, this is basically going to be like Harry Potter, then,” Vital surmised. “The earmuffs protect us from their screams and we just have to put them away to help quiet them before we go back to the lab, right?”
“Sort of. I need one whole,” Clover admitted. “A few clippings should be fine for the rest.” she led him down rows of plants of various types and looks. At least twice, Vital was sure he’d narrowly escaped getting snared in a vine or hit by a projectile thorn. He made sure to stay far away from the toothy bulb that was begging him to feed it. Finally, they found what they were looking for in several rows of plants with large wide leaves and violet flowers.
“Wow. Gotta say, you’ve done a great job here. Those hobgoblins really do know their stuff. The nature spirits are very happy.”
“Hobgoblins are very attuned to nature. It’s just that Ponies usually mistreat them, so they don’t feel motivated to make use of it. I suppose Fluttershy would say all it takes is a little kindness.” Clover chuckled.
Vital soon joined her. “You know she would. It’s like her catchphrase.”
“Okay. Earmuffs on,” Clover instructed as they approached the plant.
Vital nodded and followed her example. Next, he levitated a pair of shears from the gardening pack.
Clover ignored the shears in favor of wrapping the stalk in her magic. She carefully pulled the root free of the earth. Instantly, they were greeted with the features of a small foal made entirely of the flora’s root screaming like an angry child. Clover’s horn began to glow and vital felt a strange pull in the air. The magic felt similar to heartsong, yet fundamentally different as, even through his earmuffs, a beat began to play through his head. The melody in her magic surrounded them as Clover took the plant in her forhooves like a child and rocked it gently, cooing softly at it.
The mandrake slowly turned from screaming to sobbing, then from sobbing to a soft mewling. She rocked the now dozing root gently as she summoned a deep wooden bowl from the air and set it on the ground. Then she pulled out a bottle of milk and poured it into the bowl and carefully set the mandrake inside it. The foal shifted fitfully for a few tense seconds, then settled contentedly. Carefully, clover enveloped plant and bowl in her magic, then teleported it to her lab, where it would wait under a sound-proof cover for her return.
“What was that?” Vital asked when the deed was finished.
“Mandrakes look like foals for a reason,” clover noted. “If you wake a sleeping child, you generally need to mother it to get it back to sleep, make it feel comfortable and safe. A little mother’s milk added to the mix and they’ll remain calm, barring anything major happening.”
“I meant more the song. How did you project it?”
“That's my secret.” She winked.
“So, it’s not necessary for me to know whatever spell or technique you used, so long as I’m able to sing a proper lullaby to help them go to sleep?”
Clover nodded. “Now come. We’ll get the clippings next.” Clover waved a hoof.
“Will we need the muffs for this one, too?”
“Do you have some other way to counter the instant death scream?” Clover asked.
“Oh, I thought you meant the leaves, not the root.”
Clover deadpanned. “Vital Spark, the leaves are only useful when fulfilling a curse.”
“... Oh. My bad.”
“Let’s just get on with it.”
Nightshade waited patiently. Lord Hammer Strike had been so kind as to lend him a room in New Unity to have this conversation. It wasn’t likely to be pleasant, and he’d prefer it be away from the ears of the colony at this time. The makeshift office was a relatively large, sparsely decorated sitting room. It held little more than a large table and chairs. The Thestral was currently sitting at the head of the table with his sword placed before him.
The door opened slowly to reveal Pensword’s familiar frame. He jingled slightly as he stepped into the sitting room. The light flowed over his body as he approached, revealing the formal attire of his honorary rank. He pulled his helmet off and cradled it in one of his forehooves as he walked to the table and took a chair next to the guard. “You called me, Captain Nightshade. I assume that means you have more to discuss about the settlement?”
“A lot to discuss, I’m afraid,” Nightshade said in a tepid tone.
Pensword nodded. “Then we’d best get to it. I don’t know how long the others can keep Moon River occupied, and I don’t want her to disrupt our meeting.”
“Let's start with your unauthorized use of lands, then,” Nightshade said. “You mind elaborating why you thought it was okay to simply take land from Lord Hammer Strike?”
“If you’re referring to the lack of initial paperwork, I will admit that was my oversight, one that I corrected when it was brought to my attention. However, judging by your expression, there is far more that you have found lacking.” He took a deep breath to brace himself. “Tell me.”
Nightshade kept his tone cool and placid. “Luna has charged me with improving our tribe and how it is viewed by the public. Even if the fact you took land and asked for it later wasn’t a scandal that could make that task infinitely harder, the fact you’ve taken more land than you’ve been allotted would. It’s by Hammer Strike’s own grace that this damaging information hasn’t been leaked out, Pensword, but this can’t happen again. You were entrusted to be the leader of this project with your mates, and you have allowed it to get far out of control.
“Your wives at least have the excuse of both having full time labor under Hammer Strike’s forces and mothering. You, on the other hoof, have been investing heavily into starting up a personal business, focused on spoiling your children, and have spent an inordinate amount of your personal time away from the settlement itself, only a fraction of which is justifiable by your duty to the sight you were granted as a foal. And when you have visited it, you’ve looked in pride on how the Ponies under your care have flagrantly broken the law, because you haven’t informed them otherwise.
“Once again, let me be clear. There can be no more building outside the codes and no more excuses. Step up and be the leader you were called to be; or else resign from the position and let another be appointed in your stead. At this point, those are your options. Do you understand, Commander Pensword?”
Pensword’s face paled as he processed each blunt criticism. His hooves ground as they slid slowly back from the table, his jaw clenched, and his wings trembled as they struggled to hold even tighter to his sides. Breathing became difficult as pride warred with guilt and humility. He had tried so hard. First he neglected his lessons and lost the right to be taught by his friend and lord. Then he lost the power necessary to protect his little filly in an effort to assemble an artifact Hammer Strike required.
Had he done that out of loyalty or merely out of a desire to relive the old adventures, to be important, … to not be left behind? Had he really become so accustomed to the limelight? Was he … lazy?
He was so happy to see his people thriving again, to watch families and foals given new life away from abuse and pain, to give them a chance to learn of their heritage and be proud. And yet that pride was founded on their dedication to tradition, to honor, to truth. He threw everything he had into his studies to become a proper soldier and commander. Where was that fire now? Where was that dedication?
Misplaced.
There could be no other answer. He wanted to help provide funds for himself, and more importantly the settlers. But his efforts would take time to yield results, and time was not on their side. Taxes, rent, economics. These simple things had taken him too long to discuss. And all the while, the settlers had been oblivious, trusting in him, in his leadership. He had committed the ultimate error of any strategist. He’d stretched himself too thin without any form of structure to help him bear the load. Every military bore such a system, and yet he never thought to implement one of his own. The meaning behind Dakota’s words of warning were only too clear now.
‘Baka’ he chided himself internally. Then he sighed heavily and rested his forehead atop one of his forehooves on the table as the tension and adrenaline flooded out his body to be replaced by intense fatigue. “I’ve been such a fool,” he said quietly.
Nightshade pressed on. “There is also the issue of Thestral involvement in the community, said involvement being little, if any. You need to have them helping in some way, Pensword.”
Pensword nodded. “You’re right.”
“Then in Luna’s name, I can say this reprimand has been made.” Nightshade fixed Pensword squarely with his good eye. This time, he allowed an edge to cut through the tepidity. “Let’s pray it doesn’t have to happen again.”
Pensword nodded numbly.
“You’re dismissed, Commander Pensword.”
Gravity felt especially strong as Pensword dragged himself out of the room. The very sight of the decorations of his office seemed to burn him. But dead or not, guilty or not, it didn’t change the fact he had amends to make. And so, he trudged on. He didn’t have time to focus on his guilt. He had a job to do, one he should have done far better.
“I will,” he whispered to himself as he turned down the corridor. “I will.”
Avalon eyed her students and their most recent creations. “Good. Good. The housing is firm, and the runes appear to be intact. And I see the cores have taken hold. Excellent. Now comes the most important step. Each of you put a piece of yourselves into the creation of these foci. They are going to become, for all intents and purposes, an extension of yourselves and your being. While you will be able to use foci that you haven’t made, there is no guarantee that it will provide the same results as one you have made yourself. That is the power of making.”
She turned aside and waved to a cluster of sixteen desks, each grouped into sets of four. One held a series of feathers. One held a group of rocks. The third held a series of leaves suspended between a pair of clamps. And the fourth held a series of empty bowls.
“Each of these stations is associated with one of the four elements. Group up in accordance with the element you chose as the core for your foci. Fire to the leaves, water to the bowls, air to the feathers, and earth to the pebbles. This is going to be one of many practical examinations to come. You won’t be graded, but your performance will be judged. Expect criticism and welcome it. It was overbearing pride that led to the evokers’ fall in the first place. That is not to happen under my watch. If any of you have problems with that, you may feel free to leave now. Clover the Clever or one of her students will stand by with a memory spell to ensure you can’t spread the secrets I’ve taught you.”
The class was quick to disperse to their various stations.
“Good. Good. Now you get to attune your foci to your fields for the first time. Remember the exercises we practiced. The focus is designed to open a channel between you, the Winds, and the primal forces of magic that reside within us. This power, once tapped, may be utilized to cast magic in a manner similar to a Unicorn. This can come in the form of a protective barrier, a healing talisman, or as we are focusing on today, elemental manipulation. Those with air will focus on controlling the currents around a single feather from the table to levitate in the air. Earth will seek to manipulate their pebbles in a similar manner. Water will fill their bowls with liquid extracted from the air around us. And finally, fire will focus on control. You will seek to burn your leaves from the inside out, but—”
One of the leaves suddenly combusted and shrivelled, then fell to the base of the desk. Avalon quickly approached and crashed her fist over the offending Gryphon’s head.
“No jumping ahead,” she said in a cool and level tone full of menace. “Unless you want to accidentally set yourself on fire.” She smiled at the male. He shuddered in return and riveted his gaze on her. “As I was saying, your job is to only ignite the center of the leaf until the circle starts to expand and consume the rest. At that point, you are to focus on holding back the flame and controlling its consumption of the leaf. Fire is among one of the most dangerous and destructive elements of all. One must respect it and learn control before moving on to combustion and its various applications.”
She sighed when she noticed just how few Gryphons there were who had chosen water or earth. “For those of you who were either too afraid or too judgemental of water and earth, allow me to enlighten you as to their unique applications. As creatures of the air, we are automatically and naturally affiliated with wind and fire. The two feed one another to become stronger. However, we also rely on the land and water to live. Our wings eventually tire. Our bodies eventually require sustenance. Earth has the capacity to neutralize the power of air, if properly applied. And water, as I said, is vital to all living things. It can give life or take it away through drowning, freezing, or even removing its presence entirely.”
She approached the students and eyed each as they raised their foci. “I want you to think of this class as a shooting range, and me as the range master. Your foci are your bows, and much like in your training as cubs, these are to become an extension of yourselves and your being. You will literally be pouring a part of yourself into it, because you will be channeling your magic through it to generate the desired result.
“Now, with that being said, evokers, to the line. This lesson is to focus on control. Air will suspend the feathers in a carefully controlled column. Water will focus on drawing moisture out of the air to fill your bowls. Earth will concentrate on manipulating the pebbles. Make them roll. Have fun with them, if you wish, through competition. But you are not to seek any form of showmanship. This is a lesson in control alone. Fire, you already know what to do. Now then, evokers, raise your foci.”
The students did so immediately, recognizing the familiar range master’s order.
“Initiate contact with your magic fields.”
One by one, the foci each began to glow in their respective colors.
“Feel the flow, the rate of consumption. Get a good sense of the draw and the rhythm as the power flows into your focus and back to you.” She took a minute to walk among her students and analyze the reactions in the foci. When she was satisfied, she nodded. “Now, with tight control, focus on your task, exert your will, and release.”
Half an hour later, Avalon groaned as she ran a wet cloth over the fire station. Fortunately, the builders had the insight to ensure the surface was made from a non-flammable material. The polished stone was simple to clean. Unfortunately, her ego and her students’ would not be so easily mended. She had hoped the leaves would prove less than dangerous. One or more of those students had proven particularly adept at creating fire, and not nearly so much with control. The warrior would definitely require personal lessons. Then the water adepts tried to put it out, only to soak the surface and acolytes both.
The ones with the air foci tried to generate a wind to hasten drying, which led to greater chaos in the form of several flying desks. ‘Note to self: have study materials bolted to the floor.’ The final station was beyond repair. The stone had been cleaved by a particularly intense competition between two acolytes trying to push the other’s stone off the desk. The two forces clashed so perfectly that they actively generated a force that broke the stones and then rebounded into the table itself with a deafening crack.
She sighed again as she looked over the damage. “I’ve really got my work cut out for me.”
Hammer Strike hummed to himself as he sorted through an assortment of papers. With Nightshade making changes, it started to give Hammer Strike some paperwork to deal with. The knife had done the trick for dealing with the primary issues that follow change, but he still needed to clear specific changes and use of certain resources.
For the most part, he simply agreed to most of the resource costs, though occasionally he would have to deny those that required particular stonework that New Unity was lacking at the moment.
It was going to be a lengthy process; he was sure of it. He sighed to himself as he placed his quill down and rubbed his forehead. “Quod si ita solus potest esse simplex,” he muttered to himself.
He opened his eyes once more and took in the documents spread over the work surface. Stonework request, supply request for the following: lumber, stone of varying qualities, standard metal brackets, screws, nails, and hinges, and the request for an extension on the allotted time for relocation. Standard stuff, all things considered, but the requests for denser stones were going to be delayed, due to the current count they possessed at the moment.
He frowned as he pulled out a new scroll and began writing an acquisition form for denser stones found deeper within the quarry. He lifted his quill off the parchment as a new thought struck him.
“I wonder if the dwarves would accept a trade agreement for materials,” he muttered as he tapped his quill against the parchment. He frowned once more as he continued tapping his quill. Sure, the dwarves were likely to agree to the idea, based off his reputation, but he would want to supply something in return to make the trade fully agreeable to both sides, rather than relying on that alone. Perhaps some new equipment would make things interesting.
They were offering to fight and build on his behalf, so equipping them with gear made by him would work in favor of both parties. He hummed aloud, still tapping his quill against the parchment as he thought to himself. He’d need to find time for a trip down there, and converse with their president over it, perhaps clear a few things up, see what advancements were made in his absence.
His ears perked as someone turned in the direction of his office. Each step was deliberate and replicated marching. The weight was higher in nature, and the pattern was unknown. It was most likely Nightshade.
He let a smirk slip. “Just couldn’t let me think on another task, could you?” And then he chuckled.
Commander Pensword looked at the gathered representatives in a small antechamber with a table. A closed door separated them from a larger room that held the great meeting hall. He removed his sword and placed it upon the table, then took a deep breath and took the plunge. “Representatives of the chiefs, I have called you here in an emergency meeting for the sake of our future.” He peered over the gathering. “To be blunt, I have failed you. I failed the Thestrals who came to build this community. I failed in my leadership of this settlement’s development. I failed Lord Hammer Strike. And as a result, I have failed our High Chieftess and been chastised accordingly. Because of my folly, six families will have to lose their homes, and four more their outbuildings. I should have been there to prevent this complication from occurring. I was not. As such, I feel it is only right that I offer my resignation as leader of this colony. Will you accept it?”
The representatives muttered among themselves in a mixture of wonder and disbelief.
“And what is this nature of this grave offense to cause such drastic action?” a representative asked.
“I was so focused in preparing my own business to provide for myself and family, and setting up the bill. Worst of all, I was swept up in my own sense of pride at how rapidly you all were expanding. I didn’t even stop to consider the consequences. It wasn’t until the High Chieftess’ representative came to make a survey of the land and our efforts to integrate into the community at New Unity that I was forced to take responsibility.” He sighed. “As a result, our settlement has spread beyond the designated zones that Hammer Strike has granted for our people to build.”
Penword rolled out two maps. One was the map that all the Thestrals had been working over. The overlay was the Official map from Hammer Strike. True to the pegasus’ words, a thorough examination revealed six buildings that had stretched over the original property line, and four smaller rectangular structures to indicate the facilities he’d mentioned. Extra zones had been designated for businesses and other future structures. He then produced a third map that revealed a series of buildings on either side of the territory.
“You will note that our zone is meant to be surrounded by other quarters in the city. As such, we are out of designated code. In order to return to code, we must destroy these buildings without compensation, turn over all salvageable materials to Hammer Strike, and make sure we can store the owners’ belongings until we find them a place to live in this or one of the other colonies that have been established. The latter option may be the most viable, given how the influx of foals has pushed us to the limits in an expanding population.”
“No compensation?”
“I didn’t stutter. We should be grateful none of the settlers are facing prison time or confiscation of valuables in damages. In the eyes of the law, I am a thief for allowing this to come to pass. According to the laws laid down by the Solar Court, I will bear the responsibility for those mistakes, and justly so. Were most of the Solar Nobles in Hammer Strike’s place, they would push beyond me to affect all of you. The High Chieftess is working with Princess Celestia to remove certain laws that could be read as discriminatory, or at least stricter, toward Thestrals. But for that to succeed, all Thestral Colonies must be model Colonies with no exception.”
“What you have told us is grave.” The representative lowered his forelegs onto the table, then lit a pipe that had been carefully carved to mimic the scales and maw of a dragon. He toked it a few times and breathed a cloud of smoke from his nose. “I see why you offer your blade to us.” He peered at his fellow representatives. “Do any here require time to converse or consider before rendering a verdict?”
The fox representative narrowed her gaze scrutinously at Pensword. “You are right. That was exceptionally foolish. I believe I am prepared to offer my view on the matter.”
The viper nodded her head in agreement as she laid a hoof over her belt. “I believe I have my own thoughts ready as well.”
The wolf tapped a knife for a few minutes in contemplation. “Me as well.”
The Manticore representative huffed in thought before giving a soft nod to himself. “My views are clear to me.”
The Lion had his hooves crossed as he thought before he straightened them out and rested his gaze upon Pensword. “As are mine.”
“Then it is time to cast the votes.” The dragon representative breathed deeply and sighed a large smoke ring. “This news is grave, but the dragon tribe values honor, and you have demonstrated that tonight. I am willing to grant a second chance, provided the proper oversight is given.”
The fox representative shook her head. “He placed our foals and our very livelihoods in danger, and he has demonstrated grave ineptitude. I vote we accept his resignation.”
“I would argue that he is guilty of enabling us more.” The viper shook her head. “We are all at fault for this. He is our leader, and he takes the lion's share, but the viper believes we should grant him a probationary period.”
“It takes foolishness to lead one’s pack into trouble, but it takes strength to admit it,” the wolf representative said. “I agree on the probationary period.”
“As he said, it could have been worse,” the manticore representative frowned. “Much worse. I agree to the probation as well.”
“Though I am loathe to admit it, even leaders make foolish mistakes,” the lion representative spoke out. “Let him remain.”
“Then that is five votes to refuse the resignation and one to accept.” The dragon looked to Pensword with wizened eyes. “Take up your sword, Pensword of the Bear. The sentiment of this council is that you be allowed a probation. Show us the knowledge and wisdom your tribe is meant to embody as we discuss the next course of action for the settlement.”
Pensword removed his sword humbly from the table and slowly slid the blade home. “I … I do have some suggestions. It is obvious that we all can’t be at a place at once. We should begin by forming committees to perform regular inspections of the district and help accomplish administrative duties, including communication with Hammer Strike and his representatives to file paperwork and various documents.”
“And a general edict to freeze all farther expansion in the settlement,” the fox representative said. “A full council will have to be called to alert the rest of the populace.”
“We should look into ways we can make amends with Hammer Strike over this as well,” the wolf rep noted.
“We will do so,” Pensword agreed. “I’m open to suggestions for what we could do. I have an idea, but we should work together. To show penitence, I will let the rest of the council create the committees to avoid any potential for fuss that might arise from the nobles or the people of the settlement. You may have forgiven me, but we don’t know how the rest of the population will react.”
“Then it seems we had best get to work. Let us begin with what you had in mind, Commander,” the dragon representative said.
“With the restoration of the military imminent, there will be a high demand for training armor, among other basic necessities. There aren’t nearly so many qualified tanners in Equestria as there used to be. As such, I believe that we should offer our services to New Unity as part of our means to contribute to its building. However, as Nightsade told me, we will need to discover and implement other means as well.”
“It’s a start,” the fox representative said grudgingly. “Let’s get to it.”
Vital Spark smiled as he crossed the bridge over the creek leading to a tall tree house. “Well, Trixie, I hope you’re ready for an interesting tea party.”
She laughed. “I’m sure I can handle it.”
Vital smirked. “Famous last words, especially when Discord is involved.”
The sight of a glaring rabbit and a large brown bear heralded the presence of Fluttershy’s animal friends. “Just warning you now. The white one bites, in a fashion,” Vital said. “If he doesn’t like you, he’ll do everything he can to make you miserable. The big bear is more chill.”
Trixie stared at Angel. Her eyes slitted in a highly predatory fashion. “Well, I hope we won’t have a problem. Although I hear rabbit stew is quite good.”
“They are supposed to taste like chicken, but I don’t think you’d want to do that, Trixie. First, it’d spoil your appetite, and secondly, Angel is still one of Fluttershy’s closest animal friends. It’s best not to potentially offend our hostess.”
Angel stuck out his tongue at the pair.
“However, I’m not one to object to a little discipline, should the need arise.” A cold chill ran down the rabbit’s back as a layer of frost kissed his fur. “So let’s try to all get along for Fluttershy’s sake, hmm?”
Angel continued to glare, but didn’t pursue the matter further. The pair passed unmolested to the house door and knocked. The raucous and unmistakable laughter of a certain Draconequus carried through the door, even as a familiar pair of yellow forelegs pulled it aside to reveal a long pink mane and vivid blue eyes.
“Oh, Vital Spark, Trixie. Please, come in. We were starting to worry you wouldn’t be able to make it.”
“Thanks, Fluttershy. We were a little held up on our way here. Somebody decided it would be funny to prank some of the school kids with some poison joke.”
“Poison joke? I thought I felt something tickling my funny bone.” A floorboard dislodged and rose onto its end to stare at the pair with familiar yellow-rimmed red eyes. “You two simply must tell me all about it.”
“It seems one Diamond Tiara and her associate Silver Spoon were exposed to the blossom in question on their way home from school. I had to deliver the solution for the antidote, so they could bathe in it,” Vital said. “Though I was tempted to have them stay that way for a few days, just so they could learn the lesson the plant was trying to teach them.”
“Oh, dear. What did it do to them?” Fluttershy asked. “I hope it wasn’t too terrible.”
“Think of it like a case of reversed circumstances. Diamond had to do whatever people told her, and Silver Spoon literally couldn’t get rid of her followers. They’d accrued quite the collection of Ponies by the time I got there, many of whom were stuck to each other as much as to her.”
Discord doubled over with laughter. “Now that’s what I call a turn of fortune. Such a glorious prank deserves a toast!” He snapped his fingers and a set of tea cups appeared to levitate before each of the Ponies. “To whatever dastardly prince or princess dared to stand against the tyranny of a bossy toddler and her sycophant. May friendship smile upon them, bla, bla, bla, etcetera, etcetera, random blessing of chaos. Drink up, everypony!”
Trixie looked warily at Vital Spark.
Vital shrugged and drank. “Not bad. I’m getting orange and raspberry. With maybe just a hint of … carrot?” His ears trembled for a moment, then surged upward to take the shape of long white bunny ears, accompanied by the sound of a cash register bell.
“Vital, your ears,” Trixie noted.
“Yeah, I kinda felt the air passing over them. I assume you’re keeping the alterations to a minimum, Discord?”
“Random, to be precise. Different flavors, different creatures, different locations. Nothing harmful or permanent.” He sighed and rolled his eyes. “I know how Hammer Strike would disapprove.”
Trixie drank the entire cup of tea in one large gulp. Her eyes flashed for a moment. “Even so,” she said as she spat a marble-like object into the cup. “I’d much prefer less chaos in my tea.” She slid the cup over to him.
“Not a fan of transformation?” Vital asked. Then he chuckled. “Guess it’s a good thing I don’t mind. I always wondered what it would be like to experience things in other shapes.”
“It’s not that I’m not a fan. It’s simply that I think that's a more private specialty.” She gave Vital a wink as Fluttershy proceeded to turn crimson.
“Trixie, are you suggesting something for,” he cleared his throat, “a later time?”
“Maybe I am.” She chuckled.
Vital Spark turned red, both figuratively and literally as he took another sip of his tea.
“Oh, my,” Fluttershy said in a suddenly deep voice. She quickly brought her hooves to her face and let out a soft, “Eep!”
Discord smiled. “No need to fear, my dear Fluttershy. It was a one time effect. You know how fun our little games can be, and there are some out there who very much enjoyed that little effect.” He winked at no particular direction, completely unobserved.
“If this is the opening salvo, I can’t wait to find out what other surprises you have in store for us, Discord,” Vital said.
Discord chortled wickedly. “I’m really so very glad you said that, Vital Spark.” He rubbed his hand and paw together and grinned menacingly. “Why, I’ve only just begun….”
Pupa had grown in the last year since her mother had failed in taking New Unity. Now, what her Sister had been teaching her, while hard at first, was slowly sinking in. She doubted she could ever unsee or return to the old ways. While she liked the harder red shell she had adopted as a sign of her outward commitment to the ideals of the Everfree Hive, she liked the concept she had seen from boardgames. She thought of changing her own color for the hive when she became a queen. She didn’t want to plan too far in advance, but as one of her teachers warned her, she should plan her own hive where she could. She jumped when she felt both a physical wing and a soothing mental rub from Me-Me. <S... S… SIster!> She yelped <Y.. You snuck up on me. W… Will I get to do that when I become a Queen? Hide myself from those in my hive?> She paused before asking another question. <Can I be there with you when your General teaches the next class? I think I can … forgive him.>
<Pensword is coming to observe the troops. You may come if you’d like. But structuring has changed a bit since you last asked about the military. Though I hope we rarely need to use it, I read a beautiful quote in a book I was lent once. ‘To fight and conquer in all your battles is not supreme excellence; supreme excellence consists in breaking the enemy’s resistance without fighting.’>
<Of course, Sister. Didn’t Pensword only want like, ten tied to his crown at a time? So of course he’s not a part of our hive.> She paused as she considered the quote. It held a certain wisdom to it, albeit one she shared her sister’s sentiments on. To fight meant to potentially lose troops, troops that would one day be her own children. But if it held such wisdom, perhaps it also held techniques on how to execute such strategies. <May I see this book?>
<Eventually, sister. It is a lot to take in, and you still have much to learn.> Me-Me chuckled to herself. <Have you been keeping up with your other reading?>
<Yes, sister,> Pupa responded. <But why do you want me to read the Daring Do book series? They seem, unimportant for becoming a Queen.>
<Sometimes, doing things for enjoyment is a worthy endeavor on it’s own,> Me-Me explained.
<Really?> Pupa buzzed her wings and tilted her head in confusion.
<Yes, sister. Despite what mother may have told you, every being on the planet needs some way to relax and enjoy themselves personally. Tell me, do you dislike the books?>
<Well, I don’t understand half the motivation of most of the villains she faces. Wouldn’t activating most of the relics she hunts destroy those that try to control said relics? Also, what’s the deal with the traps? I mean, I know magic can do well, but half the traps described wouldn’t have even worked, if you think about it.> Me-Me put a wing on Pupa’s head while doing the mental equivalent of putting a hoof or finger on her muzzle to stop the river of thoughts.
<I asked if you enjoyed them, not for you tel tell me of their realism,> Me-Me offered kindly.
Pupa paused and looked a little embarrassed. <I … I did try to look like some of the creatures described in the books.> She shuffled her hooves nervously. Was this some kind of test? Was her sister throwing a curve ball? <I … I think I like them?>
<I’m glad> Me-Me chuckled. <Have you thought about leaving the hive? Going for a look of the land?>
<N-not yet.> Pupa shuddered. <I don’t feel safe out there just yet. I … maybe in another year? You did say I shouldn’t rush into finding my new hive.>
A wave of reassurance spread through their mutual connection. <And I'm not telling you to find a new hive.> Me-Me laughed. <This world is so much larger then you can believe, sister. There is so much you can see and do. You won’t get much if you hang around here all the time. You need to ignore the dangers mother probably burned into your mind. Be brave and explore. You can’t plan for a world you know nothing about.>
<Y-you want me to explore? Is they why you were having me read Daring Do?> A slight spike of excitement and nerves jumped in the connection. <Can … can I take a guard or two with me? I don’t want to go too far at first, maybe try Ponyville on a Wednesday.>
Me-Me laughed and nodded. <Think about it, plan it out, and let me know if you need anything, okay?>
<Okay, sister.> For the first time since joining the Everfree hive, Pupa giggled.
And Me-Me smiled.
Nightshade sighed as he finished signing the last of the paperwork from his stay. With so much needing to be done, he’d been signing and sealing documents for the last several hours. The temporary office Hammer Strike had lent him was littered with scrolls, missives, messages and other such legal documents as he worked to make the necessary measures for the colony’s future a reality. The blacksmiths would be arriving within the next few days. He had also sent for one of his subordinates to stay and help handle Pensword’s case while keeping an eye on the area. He tapped the quill as he thought about any possible things he’d missed.
A knock sounded off the door before it opened to reveal Hammer Strike. “Progress as usual, I take it?” the lord asked.
“Yes. Finishing up the last of the paperwork. I have to leave tomorrow to keep up with my timetable.” Nightshade sighed.
“A shame. With you around, I’ve finally seen progress in their section of the city.” Hammer Strike shrugged. “But, if Luna needs you elsewhere, you are her captain.”
“I’ve sent for one of my closest seconds to come and see to things here. He’s … abrasive, but effective.”
“I’m sure he’ll be fine. So long as he can pull his weight, nobody will question him here in New Unity.”
“He’ll like that.” nightshade chuckled. “I’ve worked out a few guidelines for the colony. If they stick to them, there shouldn’t be more trouble in the future.”
“If they stick to them,” Hammer Strike echoed back with a raised brow. “I’ll mostly hope towards your second than that, I’m sorry to say.”
“I can’t say I blame you,” Nightshade admitted. “You’ve been unreasonably patient with them to this point as it is.”
“It would simply come back to bite Luna, and if it were something deserved, I would have. But right now, she doesn’t deserve this coming back to her.”
“Still, it’s more than most nobles would even consider,” Nightshade noted. “If there is anything I can do to make it up to you, just ask.”
“You’ve done enough.” Hammer Strike chuckled. “Things are in motion once again, and I can simply hope that it will maintain order this time around.”
“Here’s to a profitable future, then.” Nightshade laughed.
“You’ll have to stop by sometime in the future, preferably not for business.” Hammer Strike smirked. “Give or take a few months from now, we’ll be looking at quite a commercial district, based off our current outlook. Though I’m sure you’d potentially appreciate my offer toward some adjustments to your equipment.”
“Of course, Princess Luna is an excellent smith, but even she wouldn’t turn down such an offer.”
“I’ll see to designing some good upgrades for you, then.” He gave a soft chuckle. “I’ll leave you to wrapping up your paperwork. Divine knows it’ll take time.”
“I’ll be sure to pay my respects before I leave.” Nightshade nodded. “Thank you again for everything.”
“Think nothing of it. In fact, thank you for getting things done,” Hammer Strike replied as he exited the room.
The Thestrals were gathered as the moon rose over New Unity’s training grounds. The majority of the guard had changed shifts, leaving the space open for their use. Each were working hard at their stations. Commander Pensword busy working with some of the younger Thestrals to nock their arrows. His Gryphon bow was mounted on his back and a pair of tomahawks sat in belts on either side of his frame.
Lexington and Concord sat on a table to the side, waiting to be taken up at a moment’s notice. Pensword added his bow to join them, opting instead to bind a bandolier of tomahawks around his barrel. A series of five targets had been set up, with the final piece being a stuffed black sigure shaped like a Thestral with glowing red eyes and fangs borne in a snarl to represent the untamed instincts and urges that resided within every warrior.
He was about to perform the same maneuver his mother had taught him back before the war. A few private sessions had revealed just how rusty he was with the technique, but he could still execute the blows, albeit slowly. Fortunately, speed was not the important factor here. The form was what mattered most. He shot a look at a yawning Rainbow Dash and Kahn, then smirked before he charged the first target in the gauntlet.
The first target, symbol of the demons and fears one faces in the night, fell swiftly to his stroke. The second was usually associated with an ally to the main invading party, and required deftness and agility to evade collision or harm while striking the blow. This was followed by the foe in the distance, the friend turned traitor, and finally the darker aspects of self.
Pensword used one tomahawk for each dummy. The first took the form of a Gryphon, with heavy leather armor to reinforce its body and shield from most blows. He had to arc the blow just right to land a fatal strike at its neck. The second foe was a Unicorn. He executed a strategic feint and landed a heavy stroke to its barrel, where straw dust rained down to litter the cobblestones. Next came the form of an immature dragon. This one required a swift upward strike against the scutes from below to get into the hide that lay beneath and shear off the head from its neck. Then came the shape of a Pegasus. These blows landed at the joints where the wings fed into the armor, simultaneously cutting strings that bound the armor in place and severing both wing stalks. He raked down the dummy’s back for greater damage before turning on his final target. He embedded the remaining tomahawks in the final dummy’s throat and chest, and finished with a powerful buck to its back. The support and artificial frame that held the dummy aloft snapped under the force of the blow, and the figure crumpled to the ground. The entire sequence took him a total of two minutes and thirty seconds.
THUD!
In a clear part of the field near where Pensword stood, a bit of loose dust shot into the air as the figure settled. He was a Thestral, possibly one of the largest the commander had ever seen. He stood a head taller than the colony’s tallest warrior and wore full plate mail, which was more impressive when the gathering finally realized he’d been flying in it. Most Thestrals only wore full plate for ground engagements, as its general weight made flying difficult, if not impossible. His mane was primarily a deep crimson, but held long streaks of silver that seemed familiar to Pensword. His fur was almost pitch black that complemented his stern face and dark eyes. His platemail was composed of blackened metal sheets that looked almost half a hoof thick in places. Large pauldrons had a giant flat spike emerging at an angle with two smaller spikes above it. The front knee joints had a smaller but still significantly sized spike emerging that pointed upward. He wore a red sash around his waist and a large white cape. A large greatsword with a black wavy blade was attached to his back. The cross hilt curved downward at a crescent with small spikes shooting down toward the handle. The handle itself was more than two feet long with a spiral white wrap covering the first foot. There was a small arrow-shaped separator where it ended, followed by an unwrapped blackened section that ended in a spiked pommel.
The general look on his face spoke louder than words that he would handle no nonsense as he examined the arena.
“So, which one of you dumbstruck rookies is Pensword?” the stallion questioned loudly.
“Over here!” Pensword called. “I’m just cleaning up after some training.” The Pony had just finished retrieving his tomahawks, and was now picking up the broken artificial limbs to mount back onto the support structures that were still intact. Even as he did so, his stomach clenched. He recognized the air of command well enough, and this Pony radiated it. Was he about to lose his rank? Was this Thestral seeking an audience? How did Hammer Strike do this sort of thing? How did Grif?
“What, the training sessions are already over this early into the night?” the stranger questioned. He looked up to the sky for a moment, then shrugged to himself before turning back to Pensword. “So, you’re the one I was sent to look after.”
Pensword looked at the Thestral in utter confusion as replacements were carried over to the stands and laid into position. He finished removing the remains of his carnage, then straightened to look back at the warrior. “I suppose so.” He shrugged, then motioned toward the new targets with a hoof. “Can’t train on broken dummies.” He sighed, then muttered under his breath. “And apparently I need a babysitter now, because I don’t know which way the moon sets.”
“Well, what did you expect? The council approved of you going on probation, rather than kicking you off.” He shrugged. “And as much as I really didn’t care for the job, they needed somepony of higher rank to watch over things.”
Pensword grit his teeth tightly, but held his tongue.
The thestral looked over Pensword a few times before shrugging. “For now, I guess I’ll leave you to training. Right now, I’ve got to check in with the lord of this land.” He sighed. “And to get it out of the way, the name’s Eclipse Darkbane, second in command of the Lunar Guard. I’m sure you’ll find it hard to forget.” Then he turned away from Pensword and those training as he headed toward the entrance of the castle with his cape billowing behind like a scarlet banner that proclaimed louder than words that change was coming.
Extended Holiday Chapter 161: A Friendly Competition?
Grif eyed his foil carefully, giving one final check as preparations where finalized. Around him, New Unity’s potential qualifiers and their various entourages yawned as they checked their gear. Given the sheer number of Ponies and other creatures that needed transport, Ponyville had arranged an early morning and afternoon train to Rainbow Falls. It had been decided New Unity would send its people first, and then Ponyville would catch the second train.
“Kinda surprised you’re coming,” Grif said to Vital as the Unicorn approached.
“It’s the friendship games. I figured I had the right to see them at least once, especially given the fact that my friends are all participating.”
“Just the qualifiers.” Grif chuckled. “But I guess you have a point.”
“Besides, Clover practically shoved me into going.”
“Well that's something, I guess.” Grif chuckled again. “You ever been to Rainbow Falls?”
“Don’t think that I have. Funny. You’d think someone as well travelled as me would have gotten there by now, if I’ve already been to Zebrica and back again.” He winked playfully at his friend.
“Only naturally occurring liquid rainbow on Equis,” Grif noted.
“Think it could be a byproduct of the bifrost?”
“Possible, I suppose.” Grif shrugged.
“How much do you want to bet Rainbow’s mom drank some of it when she was pregnant?”
“I doubt it,” Pensword muttered as he glided in and clopped slowly while he folded his wings. “Other mothers drank it, and we don’t have a slew of rainbow-maned Ponies.”
“So, that means she could have drank some of it?” Vital challenged with a smirk.
“Or eaten,” Grif noted. “It makes a surprisingly potent sauce for spicy food.”
“Is that so? Have you shared it with the Saddle Arabians? I’m sure they would enjoy it, given their culture’s flare for spice.”
“I’ll look into that.”
“So, who else do we have competing here?” Vital asked. “I assume you were very thorough in your testing for the fencing team.”
“I am the fencing team. Unity has teams going into all the weapon-based sports, as well as a good number of the physical ones. I know Rook’s going for the long distance run.”
“I’m seeing if archery works for me, since I’m more … on the level with the others now,” Pensword answered.
“Honestly, most towns will be there for a day at best. We’re probably going to be stuck there for three or so,” Grif admitted.
“Because of the number of competitors or because of the fact we’ll advance that far?” Vital asked.
“Because we have so many events we’re trying to qualify for,” Grif explained.
“Makes sense. Then again, if I recall, the only other towns trying for as many as we are are Canterlot and Manehattan.”
“Yeah, and Cloudsdale, but they’re pretty much cheating.”
“Don’t let them hear you say that.” Pensword chortled.
“Doesn’t make it less true.” Grif shrugged.
”Yeah. Still, should I keep an eye on Rainbow Dash? I hear the duchess of Cloudsdale likes to try to … influence certain competitors to join her teams, particularly the Wonderbolts.” His expression soured.
“Worry about your archery first, Pensword. We’ll have to react when we can.”
“Roger. But forewarned is forearmed.”
“Honestly, I’d prefer we keep to ourselves,” Hammer Strike commented as he moved toward the group. “We’ll have plenty to deal with as is. If need be, then need be.”
“So, basically, let sleeping bears lie, and if we get poked with a stick too much, maul the suckers?” Vital asked. “Metaphorically speaking, of course.”
“Yes?” Pensword replied a little confused. “But what does Harry have to do with it?”
Vital took a deep breath. “Pensword, I am sorely tempted to follow Star Swirl’s example right now and berate you for that comment. No pun intended. However, I’m not a jerk with a stick shoved up his plot. I was speaking metaphorically. Back on Earth, the phrase went let sleeping dogs lie. Unless Harry is only a metaphor somehow projected into reality by Fluttershy, I don’t think this applies to him.”
Pensword smirked. “And you still can’t tell when I am joking around.”
“Too easy a target, Pensword.” Grif chuckled as he finished with his eepee, giving it a few dramatic swings.
“Hey, it’s my duty to tease the less experienced of us,” Pensword quipped. He grinned and began to flap his wings as a small giggle escaped his lips. “I hear the train. And she’s one of the newer ones, by the sound of it.”
Vital smiled. “If Scrooge has gold fever, then Pensword definitely has train fever.” He chuckled. “Never change, Pensword. Never change.”
“I don’t plan on it.” He leaned in closer to Vital and whispered. ”After all, I am the train whisperer.” Then he pulled back, smiled, and let the fit of giggles come.
Rainbow Dash grinned as she stretched her hooves and wings. “Man, this is gonna be so awesome! Can you believe it? We’re actually here, live, at the qualifiers!”
“Yeah!” Bulk Biceps roared his enthusiasm.
Fluttershy smiled. “You always did enjoy a good race.”
“A good race? A good race? Fluttershy, this isn’t just any old race.” The prismatic Pegasus zipped to her friend’s side and wrapped a foreleg around her shoulders. “This is the qualifiers for the Friendship Games! This is the big leagues! And we’re going to be awesome.”
“I’m sure Kahn is looking forward to watching, too,” Fluttershy said.
Rainbow blushed. “Yeah, he’s gonna be rooting for me at the games.”
“And the rest of the girls will be here to cheer us on today.”
“Then let’s give them a show they won’t soon forget,” Bulk said as he flexed his muscles.
“That’s what I’m talking about! Okay, first things first. Let’s get to work on our coordination. Bulk, I’m not saying this to be mean, but you’re our weakest flyer right now. That means we’re going to have to run you through your leg of the race more times to help keep things smooth. Fluttershy, you’ve gotten faster and stronger, thanks to your reversion, but you still need to work on your coordination and avoiding flinching. Bulk isn’t going to crash into you. The only issue I’m worried about with him is how much effort he puts into that passoff.” Rainbow pointed at the stallion. “I admire your enthusiasm, Bulk. I’ve seen you put a hundred and ten percent in everything you do, but this pass needs to be smooth and gentle. We aren’t playing bloody hooves here. Think you can manage that while you focus on flying?”
Bulk saluted. “I will, come qualifiers.”
“Good attitude!” Rainbow produced a metal horseshoe with the symbol for the games soldered in the center. “Now let’s get in the air and practice that pass.”
Vital Spark winced as Soarin crashed to the earth. “Ooh, the feminine wiles claim another victim.”
“Vital Spark,” Twilight chided.
“What? It’s true.” He pointed at the cheerleaders. “They proved a distraction to him, because he was checking them out. You can’t exactly blame him either, given what time of year it is.”
Twilight blushed. “That aside, we should see what we can do to help.”
“The medical staff will take care of that.” A siren carried out over the air, followed by a mobile stretcher attached to an Earth Pony technician. “See?”
“I know, but—”
“What I’m more concerned about is the body language those Wonderbolts are putting off right now.” Vital narrowed his gaze as he stared at Spitfire and Fleetfoot. “Maybe we should step in.”
The two Wonderbolts had already walked off by the time Twilight and Vital Spark approached.
“Everything all right, Rainbow Dash? That was quite the stunt,” Vital said.
“It’s a good thing you were there to catch him in time,” Twilight praised.
Rainbow waved a hoof dismissively. “It was nothing. I do that kind of stuff all the time.”
“You mean flying that fast or saving Ponies?”
Twilight chuckled nervously. “Um, actually, she kind of means both. We’ve sort of lost count over the number of creatures we’ve had to face or Ponies we’ve had to rescue.”
“I suppose I should expect that, since you’re a princess now,” Vital admitted.
“It’s a pretty big responsibility.”
“And we’re awesome at it!” Rainbow pointed out. Then she zipped over to Fluttershy and Bulk. “Now come on, Ponyville. We’ve got some training to get to.”
Grif hadn’t been nearby at the time of Soarin’s accident, and by the time he’d gotten a good idea what happened, it had been too late for him to do much. So, Grif had simply gotten everyone re-organized and calmed down as Unity’s camp split up to practice their various events. Hay bales had been acquired and used to section off the javelin, discus, and shotput areas, as well as to make an archery range, so practitioners of those sports would avoid possible injuries.
For his part, Grif simply ran through shadow duels. He didn’t expect to find someone who could keep up with him, but it never hurt to be prepared, especially as he had determined to do this on skill alone. He was going to suppress his field and wear a magic suppression ring during the qualifiers and the games themselves, just to make things fair.
Grif had done plenty of fencing in the past, but usually it was done with a dulled rapier, not an eepee. The foil was awkward for him, but not so much that it would throw him off. It just felt like he was waving a small metal stick around. Even a swagger stick was more worthwhile in actual combat.
Taking a break, he looked over the camp. Everything had gone remarkably smoothly. For what had been a handful of washouts, the New Unity guard had become a well-oiled, highly disciplined machine. The only real divide between them was which group they belonged to, and that was never so insurmountable an issue as to cause real problems.
One thing Grif was especially grateful for was the ability to keep their camp sectioned off. It wasn’t unheard of for underhanded tactics to be in play during the qualifiers, be it by nobles, other athletes, organized crime, or simply overzealous residents of one of the many cities or towns represented.
Cloudsdale was known for being especially bad, and Grif had personally had to order Spitfire or one of her subordinates off the campgrounds no less than seven times. He was certain he’d created some bad blood when she’d attempted to claim he lacked sufficient rank to order her, in which case Grif had not only addressed a very real rank backed by the authority of not only Hammer Strike but twilight sparkle as well, but had also pointed out her rank was at current just for show, and she’d be smart not to throw weight around.
Grif sighed as he followed that train of thought. if Spitfire was anything to go by on the potential officers for the Equestrian army, they were going to need a lot of work. Grif idly thought back to the officers he’d worked with in passing during the Third Gryphon War. Then, too, there had been a cocky orange yellow pegasus captain, but Flash Magnus had at least shown proper decorum.
Finally managing to shake himself back to the present, Grif sheathed his eepee and headed for the temporary field kitchen. Food was distributed to anyone who wanted it at any time, and Grif was hungry. He could mull over the past after practice was done for the day.
“Hey, Pensword,” Vital Spark greeted as he merged on the path with the Pegasus. He bowed his head in deference to the armored stallion next to him. “Darkbane. You two planning on visiting Soarin?”
“Briefly,” Pensword said. “I still have to prepare for New Unity’s archery trial, but I hate to hear about a soldier who’s down. And with the competition so close, I’m worried his teammates won’t have time to visit.”
“And you know how it is. Where he goes, I go,” Darkbane said.
“I’m sure Soarin will be glad of your company, too, being second-in-command for the Lunar Guard and all. You must be quite the celebrity among the other guard units.”
Eclipse snorted. “Bah. Kid needs a good thrashing for letting himself get distracted, anyway.”
“If you say so,” Vital said.
The journey to the infirmary was short, and the trio were quickly admitted to the Wonderbolt’s recovery room. A white cast had been bound around Soarin’s wing, and a heart monitor beeped steadily as it checked his vitals.
“There he is.” Vital smiled as he approached the bed. “How’s it going, champ?”
Soarin returned the smile. “I’m doing all right. Thanks for checking up on me.”
“How’s the wing?” Pensword asked.
“Doing fine. The doctor said it should be back to normal come tomorrow.”
“That’s great.”
“Yeah,” Soarin agreed. “Just great.” He smiled at the visitors, then glanced away.
“You’re far from great, rookie. You were sloppy. You messed up, and that cost your team. You’re lucky that injury of yours wasn’t more serious.”
“Wow, Darkbane, great pep talk,” Vital deadpanned.
“He’s a soldier,” Darkbane replied. “He should be used to this sort of thing.”
“He’s right. I let my focus drop, and that bent my wing out of shape. Honestly, I’m lucky I was able to recover this fast.” He sighed. “Guess there’s always the next games.”
“Next games?” Vital asked. “I thought you said your wing was good to go.”
“It is. I’m just not.” Soarin looked away guiltily. “The others were concerned I wouldn’t be at a hundred precent, so they’re going with another flyer to give Cloudsdale the best chance of winning.”
“So someone’s flying from the city, then?” Vital asked.
“Or did they have someone here who used to live there? If I recall, anyone who was a legal resident of Cloudsdale can compete,” Pensword added.
Soarin shrugged. “I don’t know. They didn’t say.”
“Well, there’s one way to find out, I suppose. You want me to check your team and see how they’re recovering for you?” Vital asked.
Soarin smiled weakly. “Yeah. Thanks. I haven’t really been able to hear from them since they let me go.”
“You’ve got it.” Vital smiled kindly. “Any word on when you’ll be able to leave?”
“Doctor said he wants me to stay one more day for observation. After that, I can join the spectators to watch the qualifiers.”
“Good. In that case, I should probably get going again. From what I’ve heard of your team leader, it’s probably going to take me a while to get her to slow down enough to actually talk.”
“She’s not that bad. She just … really likes to win is all. It’s sort of a tribal trait.”
“Don’t worry. I’m not going to rake her over the coals,” Vital promised. “Anyway, I’d best get going. Pensword, Darkbane, Soarin, I bid you all adieu.” He bowed briefly, then backed out of the room.
Darkbane stared after the Unicorn. “Your friend’s a real softie, isn’t he?”
“Yes, he is,” Pensword agreed. “In some ways, that was one of the reasons why I joined the military, to protect that mentality from the dangers out there in the world.” He shook his head, then smiled. “Still fun to tease him at times, though.”
Darkbane grunted. “Just don’t forget to stick to the schedule. You’re here to compete, too.”
“I know. That’s where we’re going next, if everything here is in order,” Pensword spoke to both Sorei and Darkbane.
“Don’t let me hold you up,” Soarin said. “Just having somepony visit me was enough. He smiled. “Good luck at the qualifiers.”
“Thank you. And knowing Equestria, you might still get a chance to represent Cloudsdale. Don’t count yourself out till the last card is played.” Pensword nodded and offered a brief salute in farewell, then turned and left at a quick trot with his parole officer following closely behind.
The rapid pierce of needle through fabric zipped through the air as Rarity bent over her design table in the Ponyville camp tent. She wanted to create something that would incorporate the aspects of each member in Team Ponyville’s flying team. The fabric had been lovingly crafted from the finest spider thread to be exceptionally strong and durable, not unlike Bulk Biceps. In honor of Ponyville and its wide variety of inhabitants, the mare had chosen to go with a shining purple base with amethyst gems to give it that sparkle. Rainbow accents feathered up the sleeves of each leg like flames, rimmed with a layer of gold. Each of the gems had been enchanted to help repel stains. She would have included enchantments to aid with wind resistance and other such things, were this not a race. A set of lenses and other crafting materials lay off to the side awaiting her special touch, including a set of bat wings to mount on either side of the goggles.
“Hmm. I’d better test this,” she muttered, then tapped one of the wings. Before her eyes, the material warped and shifted into a beautiful butterfly’s wing. She tapped it again, and the wing returned to its original state. The fashionista grinned and giggled giddily. “It worked!”
She levitated a series of papers, including the notes on the various measurements for her friends, and quickly began to assemble the suits properly. It was done in a matter of minutes. Now all she needed was to pull the contestants away from their exercises for a few minutes to test their reactions and finish any fine tuning that might be required on the gear. She emerged from the tent to see Fluttershy and Bulk Biceps both struggling through some wing-ups. Fluttershy was definitely more used to the labor, but poor Bulk was just too massive for his reduced wings to do anything.
“Hello, everypony. Look what I made,” Rarity sang as she approached the pair. She looked about the clearing in confusion. “Where’s Rainbow Dash?”
“Right here!” Rainbow Dash grinned confidently as she approached the group.
Rarity smiled. “Ah, there you are, darling. I just wanted to show you what I made for our new Ponyville costumes. I assure you, they are the peak gear for Equestrian flyers and completely within the bounds of the rules. I already have your measurements, so I thought you ought to see my genius in action.” She levitated the jumpsuits to each of the Ponies in question. “Bulk, I made sure to make yours with a little extra give for when you work up a pump in those muscles of yours. And I believe you’ll find a pleasant surprise in these racing goggles I fashioned for you three. They each have multiple forms for accents. Butterflies, Thestral wings, Pegasus wings, and all aerodynamic, I assure you. You’ll note I made all of them based on Twilight’s colors and the rainbow magic we seem to invoke every time we use the Elements of Harmony. And, of course, for the captain’s mane.”
“It’s … it’s….”
“Yes, Rainbow Dash?”
Rainbow ran her hoof over the material, then looked back to her friend with an awed expression. “It’s awesome.”
Rarity smiled. “I knew you would have nothing less for our team, darling. We want you all to look your best when you put your best hooves forward at the qualifiers.”
Rainbow smiled nervously. “I’m … sure we will. Right, team?”
Bulk had somehow already shifted into his uniform and roared at the top of his lungs as he flexed to show off all the curves of his muscles inside the material. “Yeah!”
Fluttershy giggled. “We’ll put in every effort,” she promised. “I’m sure we can qualify. I have complete faith in Rainbow Dash’s training.”
Rainbow Dash gulped. “Of course.”
“Well, darling, aren’t you going to try it on?” Rarity asked.
“O-oh, right.” Rainbow zipped behind a tree and emerged seconds later bedecked in the new racing duds. Her rainbow contrail gave her suit a corona of colored light as she circled around her friends, then touched down. “Did you see that?” An excited grin consumed her face. “This is even better than the Wonderbolt uniforms!”
Rarity put both hooves to her mouth as tears welled in her eyes. “Oh, Rainbow, you have no idea how happy you just made me.” She lunged in for a hug, and was soon joined by Bulk and Fluttershy.
“Group hug!” Pinkie screamed in a braided rainbow wig as she joined the fun with Twilight and the others close behind.
Rainbow Dash’s smile faltered under the onslaught as she peered into the distance. A familiar pair of silver blurs were busy dancing across the sky.
The practice field was filled with the ring of steel on steel and the flash of lightning strokes passing neatly through various targets. Pegasi, Earth Ponies, Thestrals, Crystal Ponies, and Gryphons all strove for that degree of perfection that would hopefully please the judges enough to qualify for the main events. A few Kirin stocked the meat supplies with Gryphons and Thestrals while other staff worked on the herbivorous end of the spectrum with special energy drinks and healthy snacks designed to add fuel to the body for future exercise.
Grif had just finished running his epee through a set of rings for the twentieth time when a familiar scent and a flash of blue heralded the blocking of his sight.
“Guess who,” a familiar voice taunted playfully.
“Mon petit oiseau bleu?” Grif asked.
“We did say we’d meet again at the games, did we not?” Genevieve laughed as she pulled her hands away and fluttered gently to the ground in front of her fiancé. “And here we are.”
“But this isn’t the games yet.” Grif chuckled. “This is just the qualifiers. But I am glad to see you.” And he demonstrated that sentiment by hugging her.
Genevieve purred in delight. “Glad to know you haven’t gotten bored of me after all this time apart. Tell me, are you competing alone or do you have a team with you?”
“In fencing? It’s just me. In the games, well, I’m just part of Unity’s athletes.”
“That so? You know, we never did get to have a proper race between the two of us, did we?” She smirked as she traced her talons over his breast. “Think we might have some time after a bite to eat later? When we’re finished training for the day, of course.”
“I’m sure I can find the time.” He grinned. “Are you excited?”
“Why wouldn’t I be? You know how I get around a competition.” She frowned. “Then again, you’ve never actually seen me around one before, have you? Except that one time in Gryphonia.”
“I suppose I haven't.” He grinned. “I take it you enjoy competition, then?”
“You’ll just have to find out, won’t you?” She smirked. “Perhaps the winner of our next race gets to decide where the date that follows goes?”
“Perhaps.” Grif chuckled. “Who knows? You might even give me a challenge.”
“With your speed? I suppose I should take that as a compliment, but it does prick my pride just a little.”
“I’m sure under normal circumstances you’d be much faster than me.” He laughed. “Unfortunately, my circumstances will never be normal.”
“I don’t know. I’ve heard quite a few things about New Unity.” Genevieve smirked. “Apparently, abnormal is the norm there.”
“We are just outside of Ponyville,” Grif noted.
“Indeed. One of the most chaotic places in your kingdom. Or so I’ve been told.”
“Free monster attack or equivalent disaster every Tuesday.”
“Sounds like fun.” She smirked as her tail twitched. “I never did get the chance to hunt much back home.”
“There is plenty of that, too.” He chuckled, then peered curiously around the field. “Is your trainer okay with you being gone this long?”
“Let’s just say it’s turned into a competition for whether he can catch me.” She smirked. “I usually win.”
“Well then, I’ll be sure to let you know if I see him.”
“Now where’s the fun in that? I like to be fair. How else can you be a good competitor?”
“Fair enough.” Grif chuckled. “The Thunderbird does hate a cheater.”
Genevieve kissed him on the cheek. “Doesn’t everybody?”
“Seen too much to believe that.”
“So, how about most people?”
“Thats fair.”
“Good. And speaking of fair, how about I treat you to some lunch?”
“Sure. Lead the way.” Grif chuckled as he wrapped a wing over her back.
A light shiver passed over Genevieve at the touch, but she smiled as she leaned against Grif’s frame. “Hmm. This does feel rather nice. I see why your wives enjoy it so much.” She fiddled with her engagement ring. “I’m looking forward to making it more permanent.”
“I’m counting the days,” Grif assured her as he smiled, then kissed her on the cheek.
Both their tails twined together as they strode toward the vendors.
Rainbow Dash trotted out from behind a tree, having just finished another grueling practice run with Spitfire and Fleetfoot. Her costume was easily hidden in the usual place, and she approached a nearby pool to refresh herself with a drink. Sweat dripped down her face as the cool water filled her cheeks and helped to soothe her throat.
“It’s not easy practicing with two teams, is it?” Twilight asked.
Rainbow spat her water out and zipped up to the Alicorn. “You … know? Does anypony else?”
“Eeeyup.” Rainbow Dash cringed when Vital Spark walked out from behind a tree. “Had a feeling something was up.” He looked pointedly at Rainbow Dash. “So, you helping till their replacement arrives or what?”
“Well, I … guess?”
“And have they mentioned said replacement is on its way?”
“I, uh, haven’t really asked.”
Vital Spark facehoofed. “Rainbow Dash,” he muttered.
Twilight laid her hoof gently on his shoulder, then took over. “It just seems like one of the teams you’re practicing with needs a little more help than the other one.”
“And we’re pretty sure you already know which team that is,” Vital Spark pointed out. “Fluttershy is a lot more confident a flyer than she used to be, but she and Bulk both need your guidance to adjust to their various trials, especially given Bulk’s size complication. Or have you forgotten the issue with the ciff face?”
Rainbow flinched. “How can I forget?” Then she shook her head. “But I’ve seen the other teams practicing, and we’re still gonna qualify. I can fly fast enough to make up the distance.”
Vital sighed. “I don’t know what you call that here, but back home, we called it rationalization.”
“It’s true, though.”
“Yeah. It’s probably true. Doesn’t mean you should take it on yourself when those two are working their tails off to do their part.”
“Rainbow Dash, you got a minute?”
Rainbow looked nervously at Vital and Twilight, then back at the two Wonderbolts that had just touched down in their training gear. “Uh, sure.” Less than a minute later, an ecstatic Rainbow Dash zipped between the Alicorn and Unicorn in a frenzy of excited energy as the two mares flew off. “They want me to fly with them!” She drifted slowly to the ground and said in a dreamy voice, “It’s like a dream come true.”
“After all the effort you’ve put in with everypony else?” Vital asked in a level tone.
Twilight, ever the practical one, laid the facts on the table. “If you fly for Cloudsdale, Pinkie Pie won’t have anypony to cheer for. Rarity’s uniforms will never be seen. And Applejack will have slaved over those apple brown betties for nothing.”
“But I really wanna fly with the best team,” she replied with an almost childlike whine, then hovered limply to face Twilight. “What would you do?”
“I think this is a decision you have to make on your own.” The Alicorn turned aside and began to trot away. “The race is tomorrow. You’d better make it soon.”
“And you?” Rainbow turned to face Vital Spark.
The Unicorn had grown reserved as he stared at the Pegasus with cool eyes and a placid expression. “I think you can already guess what I would say, Rainbow. Twilight’s right. You need to decide this for yourself. Regardless, I’ve got some work to do.”
“Work?”
“Let’s just call it an extra credit assignment and leave it at that.” His horn began to glow. “Your friends trust you, Rainbow Dash. I don’t know if I can or not in this case. I don’t mean that as an insult, I just mean in regards to the outcome I may want to come to pass. Regardless, it’s your decision to make. No one else can do that for you. Weigh the consequences and decide. It’s all you can do at this point. Good luck.” He vanished in a flash of light.
Rainbow collapsed in a heap on the turf and groaned. “Oh, sweet Celestia.”
“They’re what?” Soarin’s shock quickly gave way to blistering anger that flushed his face a reddish-purple.
“You heard me, Soarin. Your teammates are selling you out deliberately to recruit Rainbow Dash, instead. You know how much she worships Spitfire. She’d walk on water for that mare,” Vital Spark said.
“But that means Ponyville—”
“Yes. Assuming she accepts, Ponyville won’t even have a prayer of qualifying.”
“That’s terrible!”
“That’s the captain you’re flying under.”
“I know she wanted to win. But to go this far? And for Fleetfoot to go along with it….”
“I know. It hurts. You’re angry, upset, maybe even livid. But for now, you need to keep a level head.”
“How can you expect me to do that after I found out my friends, my team, my unit just threw me aside because they didn’t believe in me?”
“Because if I know Rainbow Dash, then she’ll make the right decision in the end, regardless of whatever Spitfire might try to pull. She may need a little nudge in the right direction, but she’ll get there. And then you’ll be the one with the power, because they’ll have to turn back to you and beg you to help them qualify. At that point, it’ll be in your hooves what you do with that power. Regardless, consequences are going to have to come down on your team. These kinds of shenanigans can’t be overlooked.”
Soarin nodded his agreement. “Any ideas?”
Vital smirked. “I have a few.”
A flurry of nurses rushed into the room to the empty bed, where a series of monitors and pulleys were quickly set up.
“What’s the commotion all about?” Vital asked.
“We have a major injury coming from the field.”
“Who’s the Pony this time?”
“Rainbow Dash.”
“What?” both Soarin and Vital Spark shouted.
“So, the medic Pony isn’t sure what’s wrong with you,” Twilight noted as she gave Rainbow a skeptical look. The Pegasus laid in four separate slings that held her suspended over her bed. A series of bandages and a neck brace spoke louder than words that this Pony was hurting.
“Everything. Absolutely everything!”
“Methinks she doth protest too much,” Vital muttered to Soarin from behind the curtain.
“She is sort of laying it on thick, isn’t she?” Soarin’ replied in an equally hushed tone.
“Thank you. I couldn’t have done that on my own,” Rainbow’s muffled voice carried through the curtain. Twilight’s tired sigh was far more audible.
“Apparently, she has yet begun to spread,” Vital noted urbanely. “And now that we’ve confirmed she’s not really hurt, we can move forward with the plan. Remember, don’t show any anger toward her. If Spitfire and Fleetfoot can manipulate her, you can cut their strings. Play it cool and lead her to realize what those two have been doing. The rest will take care of itself at that point.”
“Speaking of playing it cool, shouldn’t you get out of here before everyone sees you?” Soarin asked.
Vital smirked as his horn glowed and his body began to fade. “I’m already gone,” he promised as his cloaking spell finished its work. “I’ll sneak out behind the others.”
A minute later, the Unicorn found his chance. Twilight lingered behind and finished with a final rebuke.
“You know, choosing not to choose isn’t really a decision.”
She left the room, completely oblivious to her silent follower, even as the sound of metal hooks grating across the steel bar rang through the air.
The atmosphere around the Ponyville training grounds was dismal as they partook of Applejack’s treats and talked of plans for next year’s games. Pinkie Pie was throwing a fit over the mound of rainbow pom poms she’d assembled for … some sort of impossible routine. Bulk and Fluttershy were commiserating with Derpy, and Twilight was busy wrestling with one of Rarity’s uniforms after the fashionista accidentally dropped it on top of her. Vital Spark was busy turning the pages in one of his spell books.
“I wouldn’t count Ponyville out of the game just yet, everypony,” the mage noted idly.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Pinkie asked.
“Merely that I have faith.” Vital smiled and levitated his book to read while the others shared more of Applejack’s treats.
“That’s nice and all, sugarcube, but without Rainbow Dash around, it’s not very likely we’re gonna qualify,” Applejack noted bluntly. “No offense,” she added quickly.
Fluttershy sighed. “None taken.”
A few minutes later, a confused Twilight spoke up to cut through the general haze of misery that permeated their team. “Is that Rainbow Dash … walking?”
The party inevitably turned their attention to the mare in question, who strode purposefully with Soarin close behind. The Cloudsdale pavilion was located just a short distance from Ponyville’s patch, and the mare was making right for it. Spitfire and Fleetfoot gaped at the sight, alongside the remainder of their support crew.
“Does this mean you’re feeling better?”
“I feel great, because I was never hurt in the first place.” She removed all her bandages and the neck brace, then proceeded to explain herself. After mentioning the difficulty of her choice, followed by receiving the approval of her friends, she continued, “I know now who I should have been loyal to.”
Spitfire and Fleetfoot both smirked.
“Good choice,” Spitfire said as she nudged Fleetfoot gently in the chest. “Always stick with the winners.”
Rainbow promptly threw that smugness out the window. “Ponyville.” She embarked on a monologue to praise her friends and the Ponies she had gotten to know. Everyone from Ponyville cheered at her announcement.
“Are you sure that’s the right decision?” Spitfire asked.
Rainbow Dash was in the mare’s face in less than a second. “You lied to me about Soarin’s wing, just so you could get a better flyer! You may be a winning team, but you’re still not the kind of team I want to be a part of.”
Spitfire pulled off her shades and looked Rainbow fully in the eyes. “Huh. Rainbow Dash. You are something.” She looked at Fleetfoot and smiled. “Saw it at the academy, seeing it again here.” She laid her hoof on the table. “We could learn a lot from a competitor like you.”
“Think we already have,” Fleetfoot said.
Spitfire strode over to Soarin. “Ready to fly?”
“Really?” Soarin asked.
“Never should have lied and tried to replace you to begin with.”
Soarin’s mask of disbelief fell away to reveal an angry glare. “You’re right. You shouldn’t have.” He began to walk away.
“Soarin, where are you going?”
“For a walk.”
“But we’ve got practice. You’ve got a lot of catching up to do, if we’re going to be ready for tomorrow.”
“Correction. You have practice. I haven’t decided whether I want to come back yet.”
“Soarin, come on. This isn’t funny,” Fleetfoot said nervously as she flew over to join the conversation.
“And I’m not laughing,” Soarin replied. “I earned my spot on the team. I’ve flown with you two for years. We’ve trained together, laughed together. I thought we were friends. I even was willing to let things go when you expressed your concerns for the team and its chances at the qualifiers, because I wanted us to have the best chance of winning for our city, for its honor.” He rounded on the pair. “And then I found out you two didn’t even know the meaning of the word.”
“Soarin, calm down. You’re making a scene,” Spitfire said.
“No, actually, I’m not. I’m telling you two how it is. Everypony in the crew heard what you did to me, and they’ll swear to that. I don’t think I have to spell out what that could mean for the both of you, if it came out.”
“Soarin—”
He didn’t give them the chance to break him off. “You want to know the best part? I knew what you did to me a lot earlier, because someone who had real integrity came and told me. Somepony who wasn’t a part of my team, didn’t even know me personally, and still came to visit me at the infirmary out of a desire for my welfare.” Tears swam in his eyes. “You have no idea how angry I am at you two right now!” He wiped his eyes hastily with a foreleg, then resumed his glare. “I’ll fly in the team, but for Cloudsdale’s sake, not yours.” He shoved his way past the mares to approach the pit crew. “Go on ahead. I have to get changed for practice. You’ll get your precious medals. I hope the price was worth it.”
Spitfire and Fleetfoot turned and reached out to the retreating stallion with open mouths and trembling vocal cords. A white-furred Unicorn intercepted.
“I think you two should listen to the colt,” he said coolly. “Now isn’t the time to smooth things over. Give him his space. I’m certain both sides would rather avoid saying things they will come to regret later. This may perhaps be a good time to reflect as you wait for him.”
Spitfire looked one last time at Soarin, then scowled, turned, and flew off. Fleetfoot followed close behind.
Rainbow Dash laid a hoof on the stallion’s side. “Soarin….”
“I’ll be okay, Rainbow Dash.” He smiled weakly. “Thanks for everything. You did a real honor to your uniform today, and to your friends.”
“What’re you going to do now?”
“What I came here to do, compete and make new friends.” He looked over Rainbow Dash’s shoulder at the rest of the Ponyville team as they gathered close with expressions that more or less mirrored Rainbow’s. “And I think I may have already met some.” He seized his sweats from a tech’s proffered hoof. “See you guys at the qualifiers. With Rainbow Dash to lead you, I know you’ll do great.” He flapped his wings, passed through a cloud, and emerged wearing his gear, then followed the trail his teammates had left behind.
“Three, two, one, ARRET!” the referee yelled.
Grif gave his opponent a sweeping bow before holding his epee vertically across his face and then slashing down in a salute. The Unicorn across from him seemed a bit surprised before he thrust at Grif. With a casual flick of his wrist, Grif blocked the thrust and parried the blade to the side before slashing and landing a strike on the stallion’s padding.
“First round Unity,” the referee confirmed.
For the qualifier, each person would fight best of three matches against three separate opponents to qualify for the games. Points were awarded for a hit, at which point competitors would return to their starting positions to clash again. Grif had already won two of his matches, handing a loss out to both Trottingham and Canterlot. His current opponent was representing Whinnypeg.
Grif waited for the signal to start again. This time, he took the aggressive role and led in with a jab which, as he expected, was parried, followed by a jab at his left side. Grif parried in turn, then moved forward with several slashes. His opponent blocked with a surprising amount of skill. Had this been a normal match, Grif might have humored the stallion to see how long this could go. But unfortunately, this time was different, and the stakes left him less charitable. He feigned for another slash and waited for the stallion to come up to block before swiftly changing direction and jabbing low.
“Second round New Unity.” The referee sounded almost bored at this point. “New Unity qualifies for fencing.”
Grif gave a bow to what could charitably be called applause, mostly a few half-hearted claps, and one or two energetic ones from close friends, family, and such. He turned to his opponent and offered him his talons. “You were very good, my friend. I'll be keeping my eye on your progress.”
The Unicorn smiled in turn as he extended his hoof. “And I’ll be keeping an eye on you at the games. Your style is very effective. Tell me, did you develop that stance on your own?”
“For the most part. I was taught the basics a while back, and I just worked from there.” He chuckled. “Best of luck to you.” He stepped out of the ring and scanned the crowd carefully for blue feathers. He finally found the target of his desires at the base of the stands with cool towel at the ready.
The Gryphoness smirked as she held it out for him. “Quite the performance,” she complimented.
He accepted it graciously. “The showboats are the ones rarely expected.” Grif shrugged. “Better to be passed over for a fool. And thus, your enemy exposes his back.”
“Should I be watching mine, then?” she teased.
“Why would you be my enemy? Such a thought kills me,” he answered after a moment of honest thought.
“It must be a slow death, then, since you’re still here.” Genevieve kissed him lightly on the cheek. “And good thing, too. I’d rather keep you around.”
“I talked to the cooks and managed to get use of the kitchen. How about I cook you dinner tonight?” he offered.
“The Avatar cooks? My, my. Now won’t that be a sight to see. I’m certain it’s a spectacle I can’t possibly afford to miss.”
“I hear doubt.” Grif chuckled. “But I assure you Shrial and Avalon swear by my cooking.” He winked.
“I suppose I’ll have to try it for myself then, won’t I?”
“Yes, you shall.” Grif smirked. “So, shall we say seven?”
“I think I can manage to slip away.” She flicked her tail playfully under his beak. “See you then, lover boy.”
Pensword stepped toward the archery section as they placed his quiver staked to the ground with the target set before him. He had been practicing; however, to “keep things interesting,” the game committee had decided to make this year’s event a gimmick to rekindle interest in the sport.
Pensword suspected this had more to do with meddling from nobility than any desire to rekindle an interest. Every Archer looked on patiently as the presenter showed what to do. Instead of judging by the number of bullseyes or points, they had to cover an entire archery board with ice using a set number of enchanted arrows. Pensword almost wondered if Flim and Flam had something to do with this.
Still, he and other archers moved to their spots, only to have a whistle blown at the last second. Their bows were not to be used during the trial. Instead, each competitor was given a new regulation bow. Pensword was no fool, however. He made sure to keep his weapon in sight at all times, even as he prepared the proffered bow.
Unfortunately, due to the unique make of the bow, a prospective Gryphon competitor was disqualified almost immediately. The string snapped with the wood on his first draw. Naturally, said Gryphon has many nasty words to say about the unfairness of the bow, since it was clearly only designed for a pony to wield, and didn’t account for the strength of another species.
Pensword took his time to center his stance and filter out the other noise. Then the whistle pierced shrilly through the silence. He launched arrow after arrow at the board, and pierced it. Seconds later, sheets of ice spread out from the enchanted arrows to prevent the shaft from being removed as he adjusted his aim accordingly. True to the nature of ice, a variety of artistic patterns manifested over each of the wooden canvases.
The first blow had just been shy of a perfect bullseye, and the ice spread out in a beautiful circle. Then he targeted along the outer rim, using the diameter of the ice to estimate the proper locations. Many of his fellow competitors had also done well as the sheets of ice rippled and danced over one another.
Of course, this also proved to be a more difficult challenge, due to the unique nature of the sport. The archers were required to avoid clusters, in order to properly coat their boards. Many were unable to meet that standard, which left only about half of the competitors in Pensword’s group to pass on. Some judges were biased, but still called the shots fair. After a good five or so in a row of failures, a tired-looking Unicorn stepped up to Pensword and looked at his chart. A quill hovered, ready to mark the paper down.
“I’m sorry, but you—” The judge’s eyes widened as he looked at the target. “Pass. Well done. I Was beginning to think I’d have all duds in this batch. I guess we’ll see you in the Games.”
Pensword nodded his head as the official moved on. When the examinations were complete, the judges moved to a giant board where they placed the faces of each of the winners of the qualifiers. Pensword’s ears twitched when he heard a few hisses at the revelation of his photo. A few seconds later, some Unicorns in suit coats were marching on the officials. Based on the waving hooves, he was certain they were contesting his qualification, among others.
The judges were just as adamant, even going so far as to push back against the nobles. It was one thing for a noble to exert their authority to help choose a game. It was another entirely to seek to sway a ruling after careful examination. At last, one of the judges came to the fore with a face flushed a deep red and shouted at the nobles, then pointed to the bleachers that had been set up for spectators. The message was clear, and while many nobles shot the Pony dark looks, they obeyed. After all, this wasn’t Canterlot, and any open attempts to directly impact a fair ruling would not reflect well on them.
Still, it was definitely something to mention to Hammer Strike after they finished for the day.
With the announcements made and permission given to depart, Pensword returned the bow he’d been given, packed his own bow, and made his way to the tent city that had become the focal point for Ponies as they gathered for the qualifiers. A familiar Gryphon sat at a table drinking a raspberry cordial. “Hello, Grif,” Pensword greeted as he took the chair opposite his friend. “How did your qualifiers go?”
“It was no issue,” Grif said, chuckling.
“Good, because they threw the archers for a loop. Tell your friends in the Gryphon community that instead of shooting for points, you shoot with ice arrows to cover the target. And warn them about the bows as well. They’ll need to watch their strength, if they want to avoid breaking them outright. I’m the only one from Unity or the Lunar Courts to qualify, at least in my group.” He shook his head. “The judge was impressed, but I barely squeaked by, I am in the bottom of the heat, so I’m going to need to practice at home, if the rules allow it.” His face darkened into a scowl. “This is utter mismanagement. We weren’t warned about the changes, and yet the competitors from Canterlot were flawless. I’m one of the only non-Unicorns to graduate the qualifiers right now.”
“And? Cloudsdale was allowed to use the Wonderbolts for a flight team.” Grif shrugged. “The solar court’s stacking the deck. It’s nothing now.”
“I just .. it just feels unfair.” He sighed. “Oh, what am I saying? Of course it’s unfair. I guess what I should be doing is hoping we can be ready for the next games with a wider understanding of various archery games. Then again, Ponyville has Rainbow Dash, and no Pony in all of Equestria can move as fast as she can.”
“To be fair, Unity had me for fencing, so I think we can’t complain too much there either,” Grif noted.
“True. And I still qualified. I suppose I should take pride in that. Still, this is going to be an intense game.” He smiled. “Thanks for letting me get the annoyance off my chest. I’m feeling better now.”
“No problem.” Grif drained the last of his drink then rose from his chair. “f you’ll excuse me, I need to get ready for tonight.” He chuckled. “I have a date planned, and I need to get some ingredients ready.”
“Sounds good, I’ll see where they need me next.” Pensword replied, and the two friends departed.
The qualifying round for the flyers was a sight to behold. As was expected of such a professional team, Cloudsdale finished the trials with plenty of time to spare, and were ready to move on to the games. Then came Ponyville’s turn. Soarin cheered them on as he waited by the finish line for Rainbow Dash to complete her leg of the race. Bulk Biceps made it through the rings by the skin of his teeth, then passed the baton off to Fluttershy. The mare may have been a gentle soul, but her new form gave her an edge in speed and flight power that she hadn’t been able to access before. While it was nowhere near the rate of the Wonderbolts, it was enough to help make up for the time taken by Bulk’s larger body and relatively smaller wings.
The minute Fluttershy made contact with Rainbow Dash’s hooves, the Pegasus was gone. A rainbow streak flooded behind her as she blasted through cloud and ring in tight angles to rocket up toward the finish line, a literal rainbow platform that ringed a set of clouds. A banner proclaiming the area the finish line stood proudly over the official as he eyed the stop watch at his side. Rainbow punched through the clouds with just a few seconds to spare. All the spectators that had come to watch broke out in cheers as the mare blushed.
Ponyville and the other competitors soon stood proudly together to receive their qualifier medals. Thanks to the enchantments in the lanyards, each medal was able to hang from the competitors’ necks, even ones as thick as Bulk Biceps’. When the ceremony was complete, the Wonderbolts approached, and Soarin strode forward with a warm smile.
“That was some incredible flying, Rainbow Dash. Fluttershy, Bulk Biceps, you two were exceptional. Thanks for really putting your all into the game.” He seized the Wonderbolt pin from his uniform and attached it to Rainbow’s lanyard. “You earned this, Rainbow Dash.”
Rainbow’s eyes widened as she gasped, then pranced excitedly on her hooves. “Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh!”
Soarin laughed. “I’ll see you around, Rainbow. Keep up the great work.”
A few seconds later, Team Ponyville found themselves assaulted by a barrage of all their friends leaping in for a photo bomb. Everypony laughed together as the flash went off.
Vital Spark smiled and nodded his approval. “Job well done, Rainbow,” he murmured. “Job well done.”
Somehow, the Gryphon found the chance to just take it easy and cook invigorating after the last few months they’d had. The menu tonight was made to blow Genevieve away. Chicken cordon bleu cooked in one of the large ovens as he mixed a creamy parmesan sauce, adding a few additions of his own as he worked, Handmade tortellini boiled in a pot nearby. On the counter behind him, a bowl of fresh spring salad sat beside a steaming mushroom soup. Dessert lay in the ice box, and he’d already set the table with both a dark and a light wine, as well as a glass of gwarkala.
He’d just turned from his sauce to get breadsticks from the oven when he heard the tent flap open and close.
“Do I smell Bitalian cooking in here?” Genevieve asked as she slinked into the kitchen.
“Bitalian, Phrench, and a little bit of something else later on.” Grif chuckled. “Does it smell good?” he asked as he put the breadsticks into a basket.
“Need you even ask?” she countered.
“What smells good to one can by cloying to another.” Grif shrugged. “The chicken will be done in a moment. I take it you have no objections to chicken, ham, or cheese?”
“Why should I? I am a carnivore, after all.”
“You’re not used to people caring for your personal tastes, are you?” Grif asked as he set the first courses, laying the breadsticks down as well as a bowl of soup and a bowl of salad. Then he returned to the pasta, which he tested, drained and began to sauce.
“On the contrary. You forget, I am technically of royal blood. My palate is plenty refined. I simply don’t care so much as some would like me to.” She smirked. “I’ve yet to have some delicacy that I don’t like.”
“You’ll have to tell me.” Grif smiled as he took the chicken out of the oven, carefully plated them, and then added the pasta. He set a plate on either side of the table behind salad and soup. “I wasn’t sure on your preference for drinks, so I got a little of everything,” he noted as he took his seat.
“All the way out here?”
“My dear, with my connections, I can get practically anything, practically anywhere.” Grif laughed. In lieu of candles, he released two small orbs of fire that hovered over the table and burned dimly. A mirthful chuckle escaped his beak. “Now, are you going to sit?”
She eyed the steaming dishes curiously as she took her place. “So, you crusted the chicken and altered its shape,” she noted clinically. “The hints of an indentation indicate you used string to hold it together. So, this is a roll of some kind?” She pulled a breadstick from the basket and tapped it against her beak as she contemplated the dish before casually taking a bite of the bread.
“Chicken cordon bleu is a breast of chicken over ham that has been filled with cheese.” Grif chuckled. “It was a better choice than turducken.”
“Dare I ask?”
You take a duck and stuff it with a chicken, which you then stuff inside a turkey,” Grif explained.
“Wouldn’t that ruin the flavor of the individual birds?”
“In most cases, yes. And I don’t have the skill to try. Thus, cordon bleu.” He chuckled and started on his soup.
“What cheese did you use to stuff it?” Genevieve queried as she cut into the dish.
“Swiss,” Grif noted.
She tasted the chicken and chewed for several seconds to process all the flavors. Finally, she swallowed. “Interesting. Crust for texture, chicken for the subtle body, the ham for a saltier undertone, and the mellow creaminess of the swiss to bind it all together. I can see why you chose to include so many drinks with it, however. It definitely requires something to wash it down.”
“Also why I went with pasta over vegetables,” Grif noted. “The texture, I find, matches better.”
“And you stuffed it with cheese while smothering it with a cheese sauce? Isn’t that a little too much?” she asked as she eyed the tortellini on her fork.
“Who said I stuffed it with cheese?”
“Mystery ingredient?” She raised her brow. “Intriguing.”
“I like to keep people surprised. I know it’s not palace chef work, but I’ve been told my food’s very good.”
“By your other wives?”
“And others.” He chuckled. “Is it not good, then?”
“If it weren’t good, I would have told you so,” Genevieve pointed out. She sampled the pasta. “What is this sweetness? It’s creamy, but it blends well with the subtle saltiness from the parmesan.”
He smirked. “I can’t tell you all my secrets.”
“Not even to a future wife?” she countered playfully.
He chuckled. “You can ask the others. I don't tell them everything.”
“Ooh, so they have to fight you for it, do they? I can respect a little competition.”
He laughed. “You wouldn’t be an athlete, if you didn’t.”
“You know, we still need to have that race of ours sometime.”
“We’ll have plenty of time for that soon,” he promised.
“You mean after the games are done.”
“It’s only a short time.” Grif smiled.
“Too long for my taste. But I know we both have our obligations to fulfill.” She sighed. “I suppose we just have to make the most of it until then.”
“Glad to know I left such an impression on you.” He smiled at her.
“You never write, you don’t call….” She smiled and fluttered her eyelashes in a surprisingly coquettish manner. “Honestly, what am I going to do with you?”
“Force me down and ravish me?” Grif wiggled his eyebrows.
“Don’t tempt me, lover boy. I’m still eating dinner, and we haven’t even gotten to dessert.”
“Well then, we’d better eat up, huh?” Grif laughed as they ate.
The station platform was a hubub of activity as the various teams that had remained at Rainbow Falls said their last goodbyes and prepared to depart on their various trains. The scent of fresh baked goods and other treats wafted tantalizingly in the air to call customers for one last expenditure before they began their long journeys. The station was so busy that Ponies had no choice but to wait outside for the overflow to lessen.
“Wow. Talk about a madhouse,” Vital Spark noted as he observed the jostling crowd.
“Plenty of individuals wanting to get home. Only makes sense for it to be this way,” Hammer Strike commented as he walked up.
“And where have you been?” Vital asked. “I didn’t see you all week.”
“Overseeing and paperwork,” Hammer Strike replied with a sigh. “All damned week.”
“Without a single break?”
“I got a few breaks in, but typically in the morning, when nobody is awake.”
“Did Rarity know?”
“Probably, but I tried my best to not wake her.”
“You realize if she does know, she’s probably going to plan something tailor fit and possibly extravagant just for you, right?”
“Probably.”
“What’s probably going to happen?” Pensword asked as he trotted up to the duo accompanied by Eclipse.
“Just pondering what Rarity will do in the future,” Hammer Strike replied simply.
“Something with fashion is a safe bet,” Pensword quipped.
Grif approached the group light on his feet, humming with a slightly goofy grin.
“Someone’s in a good mood,” Vital noted as he eyed the Gryphon.
“I had a good night,” Grif responded.
“That much is obvious.” Hammer Strike chuckled. “I’ll be glad to just get back to New Unity.”
“I figured you four would have wanted these competitions to go on,” Eclipse commented with a shrug.
Pensword looked to Eclipse unsure how that tone of voice was meant for. Was it sarcastic, downputting, or uplifting? He didn’t say anything as he was looking forward to sitting back down and going over the reports that had been delivered earlier that morning from the new committees at the settlement.
“How come?” Vital asked.
“All four of you are, how do I put it, warriors? You’ve all fought life and death several times, from the reports I read. Didn’t expect you all to be so satisfied with just this. Well, except Hammer Strike, since he didn’t join in.”
Vital shrugged. “I was just a spectator this time around. Grif, pensword, you two wanna take this one?”
“It’s the brakes with family that keep me going. This is fun, but glory means very little in the end,” Grif said.
Pensword smiled. “This is an activity whose outcome isn’t death if I fail. That’s a nice change for me.” He narrowed his eyes then. “Also, as one of the few competitors not tied to either Unicorns or the Solar Courts, it’s more a point of pride to try placing in the top three now.”
Eclipse hummed to himself before simply giving a shrug. “Whatever works in the end.”
“What about you, Eclipse?” Vital asked. “Did you want the trials to keep up?”
“Doesn’t matter to me either way. While I would have liked to compete, I was told I should refrain from joining in,” he replied, frowning. “I like my position. Don’t get me wrong. I just have to miss out on events like these.”
Pensword raised a brow. “Then while I’m doing the finalization with the committee, why don’t you talk to Grif about setting up something you’d enjoy doing in New Unity? Even Hammer Strike does things he enjoys in his breaks.”
“I’ve got things I do when I’m free.” Eclipse shook his head. “Don’t you worry about that.”
Pensword nodded, his ears perked, and the same smile pulled over his muzzle. “Our train is next. A four-six-zero Moonlight Special, if I’m not mistaken.” He made one last check of his gear before heading toward the actual boarding section of the station. It was time to return home.
The night after their return saw Grif approaching Hammer Strike’s office late. He knew the Pony was in, only because no one had seen him leave in the last few hours. Grif waited as he approached the door, not bothering to attempt to knock.
Hammer Strike had clearly just settled into his office. A neat stack of papers waited off to the side for him to look at. Either he hadn’t begun work yet or he was putting it off. “To what do I owe the visit, Grif?”
Grif let himself in and closed the door. “I have a request.”
“Certainly something you don’t do often. What is it you’re in need of?”
“I’m going to need some land outside the compound.” Grif handed some rolled-up sheets to the Pony. “Somewhere possibly close to the outer wall and easy to access.”
Hammer Strike reached into his desk and sorted through a few scrolls before pulling out a larger one. Then he unfurled them to reveal the city layout near the Gryphon compound and the set of building plans Grif had just handed over. He frowned to himself as he pulled out a quill and began marking a few spots on his city layout. “If you’re willing to sacrifice some of your training grounds, not much mind you, I can push your borders out enough for you to fit this in.”
“This isn’t for the clan, Hammer Strike. It’s—” Grif sighed. “A headquarters, for a guild.”
“Running a mercenary camp isn’t enough for you?” Hammer Strike gave a smirk.
“You know how during the Third Gryphon War, most towns had at least one hunter to deal with monsters and threats of a similar nature that need non-conventional means? These days, your lucky if there’s one in every big city. Equestria’s monster population has risen dramatically in the last few hundred years, and the amount of people with the knowledge to deal with them is pitiful by comparison. The reasons are quite clear. There are no resources, no forums for such hunters to meet and share knowledge, nowhere to show hunting areas or what lives where. It’s just corporeal monsters right now, but if creatures of the night ever showed up again, we’d be in a lot of trouble.”
Hammer Strike frowned as he thought to himself. After a few moments, he began redrawing on the layout. “I’ll see what I can push back, but keep in mind I don’t know how much I’ll be able to, and you might still have to sacrifice some of the training grounds to make it work. It’s late into the layout, so there’s only so much I can do.”
“It’s worth it.” Grif shrugged. “Between the relatively few hunters and the surprising abundance of false information out there, we need to work this out. I can handle giving some ground, if it means a town doesn’t go quiet overnight.”
“A central hub for such would prove quite useful.” Hammer Strike tapped his quill against the city designs as he scanned over both it and Grif’s designs. “Tell you what, take the side rooms down by about a third of their scale from the outer wall and pull the internal room slightly more—” He pulled out a blank scroll and began drawing a different design. “A few alterations to the support locations, readjust the length of this room, and you should have plenty of room still, but less wasted space, meaning you don’t have to make much of a sacrifice on the training grounds, and you can get the building.”
“I appreciate the help. I’m also going to be inviting Jäger to new unity to serve as guildmaster. I don’t have the time to exclusively look after this, and winds know he knows more about hunting than I ever will,” Grif noted.
“I’m certain he’d enjoy it more than his current retirement,” Hammer Strike replied with a smile. “We can only hope he’ll accept the position.”
“If he’s anything like the stories say, he’ll come.” Grif nodded. “Unity’s also the best place for it. Anything that attacks here is more than likely to be repelled.”
“Fair enough.”
“I’ll get the formal request and the paperwork to you tomorrow, but I thought it was better to do this in person.”
“Gives me time to work things out and ensure that After Thought gets things down.”
“Thanks for hearing me out.”
“No problem. Go ahead and get to work on gathering materials. I’ll send the all clear through Vital to the overseers.”
Grif gave a nod as he headed for the door. “Don’t work too hard,” he offered with a smile before departing. Though he knew it was likely Hammer Strike wouldn’t get any rest tonight. Neither was he, for that matter.
Hammer Strike sighed to himself as he stationed himself back in his office. It took some time, but he was able to clear everything up with the overseers of materials. He frowned to himself as he thought back on the point Grif brought up. Equestria was very much lacking a fighting force for “monsters” and the like.
It wasn’t long before his thoughts were interrupted by the sound of hooves rapidly approaching his office, though he could sense a brief jump in their step and a gap in their movement, meaning it was most likely a pegasus flapping in between certain steps. He frowned as he tried thinking over who it could be, but it was clear they weren’t going to stop. At least, not quickly enough. Hammer Strike gave a brief gesture of his hoof as he pulled at his door thaumically, opening it quickly enough for Daring to charge in. The alicorn tablet was firm in her grasp as she came to a halt in his office. “It figured something out!” she called out, quickly placing the tablet on the table.
“What do you mean it—?”
“I can’t explain it. While I was gathering information from it, it ended up stopping when I asked for the location of a device it mentioned. The tablet went silent for a bit and said that it was calculating something along the lines of ‘backtracking location.’”
Hammer Strike grabbed the tablet and tapped the front of it, activating it once more. “Repeat last process,” he ordered in Latin.
“Connection has been reestablished to the central mapping unit. Location confirmed.”
“What location is confirmed?”
“Location: Aethica, has been reestablished on this unit’s maps.”
“Aethica?” Hammer Strike frowned. “What in the world is Aethica?”
“Answer: Aethica is the primary city amidst the Alicorn Empire.”
Hammer Strike shifted back slightly upon hearing the results. “It’s located the Alicorn Empire….”
“What?”
“Whatever you asked of it, in order to determine the result, it had to find the location of the Alicorn Empire.” Hammer Strike looked to Daring. “It’s done it.”
“In other words, a cornucopia of vast historical knowledge from the Pre-Discordian era that has laid unspoiled for millennia is ripe for the picking, … and I’m the one responsible for locating it?”
Looking to the tablet once again and frowned. “Display map and a path to the city.”
The tablet pulsed blue before a display appeared above it, revealing the topography of Equestria, specifically centered on New Unity. After a few seconds, the topography shifted and the map began to expand, revealing more landscape until it ended off the western coast, then continued on. After some amount of time, a segment of land appeared in the vast ocean. The mass was large for a typical island, and was marked with small text around it.
“Daring, I need you to prep a team. It has to be small, and it has to be cleared by myself or Grif. I want nobody else going for this, or so help me, I’ll kill them personally.” He fixed the mare with a flat stare as his eyes flashed. “As soon as possible.”
“How many?” Daring pressed. “I need to know what I have to work with, so I can prioritize.”
“As little as possible. I can supply any extra members.”
“I’ll make some inquiries,” she promised. “Any other orders?”
“Make sure it’s known that I will deal with any opposition personally.”
Daring shuddered. “Now that’s a threat that carries some weight.” She nodded. “I’ll be in touch.” She donned her helmet and strode to the door. “And I’ll make sure the right channels hear your warning,” she promised. A few seconds later, the toughened mare was gone to prepare for the great adventure to come.
Hammer Strike frowned to himself as he began pulling out parchment. “I’ll need to schedule a meeting with Grif. This will definitely need the Gantrithor.”
Pensword glided over the boulevard toward New Unity from Ponyville on autopilot. His mind was still reeling over the last committee meeting. The first half had been a very icy storm that blew into a raging blizzard of words and accusations. The events from what Captain Spitfire had pulled created a rift between Rainbow Dash and the mare. He and Lafayette had to join in to mediate between the two.
Now it was time to do his own house cleaning. So many things were waiting on the Military being formally reorganized and implemented. Regrettably, Spitfire would likely find herself ranked a Colonel, due to Politics, but he was going to put her in as non-damaging a role as possible. Perhaps a remote outpost by the Lunar Sea, or a border patrol to teach her some much needed humility. If she didn’t learn it, then her behavior would surely justify demotion, despite objections that might be raised in other branches of the government. The main problem now, however, was the underlying issue that Spitfire’s behavior had unearthed. Canterlot was infecting Cloudsdale with the idea of buying rank and of noble blood being better than showing real nobility. Pensword snorted in disgust. Those Unicorns didn’t realize that the Pegasus nobility that existed before the Unification was bought through the blood of sacrifice and duty. Not bits, no baubles, no quid pro quo.
“Disgraceful,” he muttered.
New Unity’s stone towers rose in the distance, and he angled his flight path accordingly to prepare for a landing. This kind of issue would require careful thought and discussion before he proceeded with any form of discipline or correction. “Perhaps Eclipse can help,” he mused. “That or Grif. He’s probably already heard about it.” He furrowed his brow. Just how did that Gryphon learn so much about, well, the whole nation? He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, like he’s going to up and tell me.” He chuckled and shook his head as he readied his hooves and clattered onto the inner courtyard. “But it may be worth the attempt,” he mused. “Just maybe.”
Hammer Strike hummed to himself as he walked toward the Gryphon compound. After finishing up his own alterations to the designs Grif had in mind, he figured the Gryphon may as well take a look. That, and there was the fact he needed to remap the borders and make a request.
He looked at the compound’s walls in the distance and smiled. The structure of its defenses certainly stood out. But, then again, that was the point when Grif had asked permission to construct it. He stopped near the gate along the side. “Hey Grif, you in?” he called out, knowing the many open windows that were within.
The gate opened a few moments later. “He’s in the main building,” someone called down.
“Mind getting him out here? I’ve got to go over the new structure, borders, and some designs with him.”
There was a few minutes of silence before a figure took off from above the gate. A few minutes later, Grif landed in front of Hammer Strike. “Hey. Whats up?” he asked.
“Got a few things to discuss, the primary right now being the fact that I’ve got your new borders to lay out. Secondly, I’ve finished up a redesign of your structure. Whether you use it or not is entirely up to you.” Hammer Strike pulled a scroll out of his coat and handed it over. “Remind me to get you a thaumic relay, so I can keep in contact with you like I do Vital.”
“I’ll remember to do that.” Grif nodded as he unrolled the scroll and began looking it over. “Well, this isn’t too bad. I honestly feared it would be more,” he noted.
“Function over form for this one,” Hammer Strike replied simply as he pulled out a larger scroll containing his new measurements. After confirming them mentally, he began altering the marks around the compound and setting up new marks for the structure in question. “Also, I’ve got something more to discuss with you while I’m at this.”
“Yeah?” Grif asked as he examined the new scroll.
“I need to request use of the Gantrithor, prolonged use of the Gantrithor,” Hammer Strike spoke in Draconic.
“That's easy enough. Where are we headed?” Grif asked.
“We’ve located the Alicorn Island.” Hammer Strike looked to Grif. “And it’s some distance away.”
Grif shrugged. “Good thing we’ve got a mobil basecamp, then.”
Hammer Strike continued marking the land. “Ensure it’s prepped for combat. I want to make sure that if anyone follows us, they are dealt with swiftly and without remorse.”
“No witnesses. Got it. Should I have Daring tailed, just in case?”
“See to it. I want nobody else following us. The island has already proven to be insanely more advanced than anything else in this world, and I refuse to let it be found by anyone else.”
“So, skeleton crew, but one ready for combat at a moment’s notice, preferably people who won’t get squirmy about blowing a ship out of the sky without warning.”
“Correct.” Hammer Strike finished marking the terrain. “There you are. That should be it.”
“I’ll look these over tonight and let you know if anything needs to be changed. By the way, I'll need to be taking the Gantrithor out in a few weeks. Some of the rune matrices are acting up. I want to take it back to the empire for a tuneup,” Grif noted with a wink. “Could be gone for a while.”
“Probably for the best. Can’t have it breaking down whenever you need it.” Hammer Strike rolled up his scroll and placed it back in his coat. “I’ll leave you to it. Everything’s been cleared, and materials are open. I’ve got things to discuss with the others, so I’ll be off.”
“See you later.” Grif nodded and took to the air, both to return to his post and to get a bird’s eye view of any potential spies. Hammer Strike’s own eyes flashed briefly as he ran a thaumic scan. It was better to be safe than to be sorry.
Hammer Strike sighed to himself as he sat down in his office once more. One down, and more to go. First, he’d have to discuss these events with Pensword and Vital. Following that, with Rarity. Clover would perhaps want to come along as well. Following that, there was potentially others’ wives and such.
He groaned to himself as he rubbed his forehead. “This is going to take some time,” he muttered as he pulled out a small crystal and gave it a small tap. “Vital, are you there?”
The response was immediate as the Unicorn’s voice projected through the crystal. “Yup. What do you need, Hammer Strike?”
“You’re currently with Clover, are you not?”
“It is class time. Did you need to talk with her?”
“I need you both to come here as soon as you can. I have some important things to discuss.”
“We should be finished with class in a half hour. Will that do or is this one of those now situations?”
“That’ll be fine. Sorry to have interrupted your lessons.”
“No problem. You’re the only person who can call and interrupt without my getting in trouble. You know how Clover can be—yowch! Hey! I wasn’t being disrespectful, just honest!” The crystal communique shut off shortly after, and Hammer Strike couldn’t help but wonder what Clover might have tried to do to the Unicorn. Exactly one half hour later, the two Unicorns in question stood within Hammer Strike’s office.
Hammer Strike sealed the room in the usual way and laid his forelegs on the desk. “As per usual, let’s keep this all between us, yeah?” He asked simply. “We’ve discovered the location of the Alicorn Island.”
That got Clover’s attention almost immediately. “Oh, really?”
“A whole lost civilization. I assume you plan on mounting an expedition as soon as possible, and preferably without any word getting out to Canterlot?” Vital asked.
“Correct. In fact, preparations are being made as we speak. I am telling you both now as a just in case either of you wanted to come or, at the very least, so the both of you will know of my absence.”
“You’ll probably want Clover, at the very least. She’s a magical powerhouse and a bastion of mystical knowledge. Though, if you’re going to the island, wouldn’t it be wise to bring an Alicorn with you, just in case there are any traps or spells that would require the presence of said species?” Vital asked.
“They appear to just require a large supply of energy. I can shape it to match most forms of magic that the tablet would sense, so I should be able to replicate it. If push comes to shove, I can send a message to Celestia or Luna and create a portal between.”
“Unfortunately, I have too many responsibilities here. That's why you’ll be going in my place, Vital,” Clover said.
“Teacher say what now?” Vital Spark gaped at his mentor. “You honestly think I’m ready to handle something like this?”
“I need someone to be my eyes and ears,” Clover noted.
“To be honest, I’m quite surprised as well,” Hammer Strike commented. “I expected you to be up for it.”
Clover sighed. “I have my reasons.”
Hammer Strike shrugged. “It’s your choice. I’ll try to bring things back for you to examine within your interests.”
“I’ll have to let Trixie know, or at least tell her you have business that needs me to come along. How much can I tell her?”
“If she presses on it, tell her to come to my office and I’ll clear it all up. I’d prefer little to no information getting out.”
“Understood.” Vital nodded. “Best continue packing, then. Were there any other errands you needed me to run while I’m out?”
“I need you to bring Pensword by my office later on.”
“With or without Eclipse?”
“Tell Eclipse that he’ll have to stay back for this one.”
“Will do. Just be ready, in case I have to call you on the crystal.”
The field of energy left the edges of the rooms. “Perfect. That’ll be all.”
“We’ll get out of your hair, then,” Vital said.
“I’ll have those research reports on your desk soon.” Clover nodded, and the pair departed.
Hammer Strike rubbed his forehead as he tapped a quill against a set of documents in front of him. Pensword would be arriving shortly, and he didn’t plan on starting any documents until the meeting was done. Otherwise, he’d lose his train of thought. It didn’t take long before he heard the faint sound of hooves turn down the corridor toward his office. “Come in.”
“Can you let me knock on your door at least once?” Pensword asked as he entered. He rolled up a scroll and shoved it back in his saddlebag to join its fellows before he closed the flap. “Was there something else I did wrong?” he asked bluntly. His expression was flat, his eyes tired.
As Hammer Strike had done before, a faint amount of power seeped from the cracks of the room as he sealed it to prevent eavesdropping. “I simply called you here to inform you of events. In particular, the Alicorn Empire has been located, and I will be heading out alongside others to it sometime in the near future. I am telling you this to either let you know why a number of individuals and the Gantrithor are missing or for you to come along with as well.”
“Unless you need me to assess military problems, or truly need me at your side, I don’t know if I can get away. While the Committee is built, and I have been trying to delegate the paperwork, I’m still drowning in a lot of it, and I doubt Eclipse would like me galavanting about willy-nilly.”
“Eclipse has no say in this matter, as I technically hold final say over this situation.”
Pensword nodded. “Okay.”
“The choice is entirely up to you. If you have any questions, you’re free to ask them to myself, preferably not in public.”
“First off, do you want me to come?” Pensword began. “And secondly, how long would we be away?” He fluffed his wings as he pondered the invitation. “And on another note, how do you handle all the paperwork you have to do?”
“I have others work for me to assist with that.”
“And you can afford to pay them wages.” Pensword sighed. “I can’t do that just yet, unless I can get staff from the Changelings.”
“I’m sure you’ll figure something out in time,” Hammer Strike replied as the energy left the edges of the room. “I’ll probably be here for some time, so if any questions come to mind in the night, you know where I am.”
“Okay,” Pensword answered as he turned to leave. “When do you need an answer?”
“Give or take, within a week.”
“Sounds good. I’ll see you later, unless you want to join us for dinner. Moon River would love to see you.”
“I’ll check if I can. I’ve still got others to talk things over with, so….” He shrugged.
“The invite is open, even if it is late, you might still get to come by for a nightcap or something.”
Hammer Strike nodded. “We’ll see.” Then he waved his hoof and nodded. “Farewell, Pensword.”
Pensword nodded. “Until we meet again.”
“And lo, in the coming of the eighth cycle, when the sun, the moon, and the stars unite, the wrath of ages past shall descend, and the guardians of twilight shall rise against the horde….” Vital brushed the feather of his quill against his chin as he pondered what he had just written. “A little on the cliched side. Maybe something a bit closer to home. I do know a lot about things that don’t exist here in Equestria, after all. So long as I don’t include any technology, I think Hammer Strike won’t mind.” He levitated a fresh sheaf of papers to the desk. “Let’s try that again.”
“What are you writing?” Trixie asked as she entered the room.
“Working on some ideas for prophecies to use. I used to have fun writing them when I lived back on Earth with my friends. It was sort of my specialty when we wrote together. That and naming things. When it feels right, I just … let it come, if that makes sense.”
“Finally found some time to write for yourself, then?” she asked, smiling at him.
“A little. It helps me to clear my head. I’ve got a lot of stuff jumbling around in there, despite Clover’s help with organizing it. I do need to do some research on future sight sometime, though. I’ve been curious about how those branches of magic function here in Equestria. Think you might be able to explain some of it to me?”
“What are your questions, specifically?”
“Well, how does it work? I know you were able to prophesy once with me back at the fortune tent you were running. And I suspect fortune telling is also a legitimate art in this world, but I don’t know how accurate that art is or what items are used to concentrate that unique power. Back home, we had tarot cards, crystal balls, seer stones, that sort of thing. What do you use here? Can anyone develop these skills or do they have to be inborn?” He chuckled and blushed. “And I’m gushing. Sorry, sweetie.”
“Well, as I was explained, telling the future comes in three different arts: fortune telling, soothsaying, and prophecy. These are listed from weakest to strongest in order. Fortune tellers tend to imbue a small amount of magic in an item or object. Then they receive small guesses into the likely future, depending on what they’re using and what forms the object takes. But as noted, it’s the weakest form of the magic. Bones, runes, or tarot cards, all you recieve is guesses on a possible future. The best fortune tellers have a one-in-fifty chance of being right.”
“I always thought tarot was more about giving people a chance to choose where they want to go, anyway, and change course before the future comes, should they wish to change it. The rest sounds about right, though. So what comes next?”
“Soothsaying. It’s more precise than fortune telling, but less controllable. Soothsayers are given visions or glimpses of the future through dreams and other such states. Some soothsayers need to use certain herbs to stimulate a vision. Almost always whatever they see will come true. But how and when are usually left untold. It’s quite common that a Pony causes such events by trying to prevent them.”
“The famous achilles’ heel of future sight, the self-fulfilling prophecy.” Vital nodded sagely. “Dare I ask how many documented incidents there are?”
“Soothsayers are actually pretty common. Maybe not one in every town, but most large cities have at least one or two hidden away.”
“Have they ever been used for state purposes?”
“It’s not legal.” Trixie shook her head. “As these are only glimpses of the future, it’s hard to interpret the details correctly, and it could lead to too many issues.”
“Fair point. And the third one?”
“Prophecy is a vision of the future sent by a god. Generally, it’s infallible and will happen without question, just as shown. However, those are exceedingly rare.”
“I see. So what about beings like oracles and such, people who prophesy by channeling divine power or authority? Where do they fall?”
“Oracles are more the mouthpieces of the gods.” Trixie shrugged. “It’s more of a direct connection type of thing.”
“So, does that mean the current empress of Gryhonia falls under that classification?”
“She’s a prophetess. What would a prophetess use?” Trixie asked sarcastically.
“A seer stone, perhaps?” Vital shrugged. “That’s what the prophets and seers used back home, anyway. I just thought she might have her gift as a result of interaction with her gods.”
“In another time, that might be true. She may become an oracle if the Gryphon gods come back. But right now? No. Their gods’ influence on the world is cut off almost entirely.”
“Good to know. Also very interesting. In that case, Trixie, I’d like to ask, how far have you dabbled in fortune telling? Were you ever trained in it before?”
“Not nearly enough to pursue the act.” She sighed. “That was just a few minor tricks I picked up from a fortune teller on the road.”
“Well, I’d definitely say you have a flare for it.” He smiled and kissed her. “Though when I’m around you, I always see a bright future.”
She laughed. “I think we share the same vision.”
“A daughter of light and shadow, who dances between with the beauty of aether and the glory of twilight in her starry eyes.” He kissed her again. “I think I feel a prophecy of my own coming on. I see a bed, and a most intimate discussion.” He gazed at her amorously.
“Well, best not run from the future.” She returned his look.
“And best not to keep it waiting.” He smirked as he rose from his desk and gestured with bowed head and pointing hoof. “My lady.”
She gave a small curtsy before heading off. Vital Spark followed close behind.
Hammer Strike smiled to himself as he entered Carousel Boutique. Rarity was in; he was sure of that, and he needed to finish up plans to figure out who would be coming along.
“Hiya, Hammer Strike!” Sweetie Belle beamed as she waved from behind the register. “Good to see you. Want me to go grab Rarity for you?”
“It’d be great if you could.” Hammer Strike smiled gently.
The filly hopped off the stool she’d been sitting on and strode back into the design room. A minute later, she emerged with her older sister in tow. “Rarity, can I go play with Button Mash now? He said he wanted to show me a new game.”
“Well, I suppose you did finish your homework already,” Rarity conceded. Then she smiled. “Go ahead, Sweetie Belle. Have fun. Just make sure to come home before it gets dark.”
Sweetie grinned. “You’ve got it, Sis!” She left in a dignified manner until the door shut behind her. Then all that remained was a dust cloud under her churning hooves as she raced into town.
Rarity giggled. “I wonder how long it’ll be before those two go on a real date.”
“If anyone in our groups are to go by, a year at least,” Hammer Strike commented. “In any case, I have something important to discuss, so I figured a visit was in order, anyway.”
“Important how, darling?”
“Well,” Hammer Strike started. He casually laid a hoof on the counter. The thaumic energies raced through the wood and quickly sealed the room. “Daring and myself have located the Alicorn Empire, a long lost island of unimaginable technology that was home to the original Alicorns.”
“I see. That would certainly fall under the important category. And just who were you thinking of taking on this expedition?”
“Right now, it’s the usual crew of Grif, Vital, and Pensword, if they all accept. Apart from that is a skeleton crew prepared for battle, and whoever Daring brings who is valuable. And you as well, if you feel the urge to come along. Do keep in mind that it’s more of an archeological visit, and will lack anything in terms of luxury. Though I suppose you may find inspiration from the ruins of a once advanced empire.”
“I should certainly hope so. Though it begs the question. What time are you leaving? I’d have to arrange for some babysitters, and then there’s also the influx of orders after that coup d'etat at Fashion Week.”
“It’ll be within a week of today.”
“That soon?”
“I want to get this going as soon as possible. Should any information of this get out beforehand, it could lead to some dire situations,” he explained. “Imagine if there were some advanced weaponry the likes which Equestria has never seen. Armor, even. We don’t know what lies on that island. And now that we’re certain it exists and know where it is, we need to get to it as soon as possible.”
Rarity frowned. “A week is going to be tight, but I should be able to get my affairs in order. How long are we anticipating being gone?”
“It could take a few weeks for the initial visit, depending on how things go.”
“A few weeks. That’s simply much too long for me to be away. I can hardly let Sweetie Belle fend for herself that long, and to have her stay with Apple Bloom and the Apples may cause problems, especially given her … unique abilities in the kitchen.” She winced.
“Sadly, I can’t offer to bring her along.” Hammer Strike hummed. “Perhaps she could stay in New Unity. Though a few weeks would be a stretch on things.”
“Not to mention how stir crazy she’ll become without her friends.” She rubbed her chin in thought. “I’ll make a few discreet inquiries. Assuming I can spread the burden out evenly among trustworthy Ponies, it shouldn’t be that much of a bother for her or them, though I’ll probably worry like an old nag, regardless.”
“If push comes to shove, don’t worry about it. It’s mostly just to determine what is there and how to deal with it appropriately.”
“Hammer Strike, Dear, every time you all go to simply ‘determine’ something, it’s almost a guarantee that something is going to happen that will result in another of your roundabout journeys, either yours or one of the others’,” Rarity noted. “I’d prefer to keep you closeby, in case something happens.”
“Fair enough.” Hammer Strike shrugged as he let the field of energy drop from the room. “Sadly, I have to return to keep things going.” He frowned. “But I should be back in a few days to determine your answer.“ He smiled warmly at her. The thought of being with her always helped lighten his mood.
“And if you can’t, I’ll come to you.” Rarity returned the smile and kissed her husband, then giggled like a school filly. “That never gets old.”
“I’d hope it wouldn’t.” He chuckled. “All right; I must be off. Until next time.”
“Ta-ta, darling.” She winked coquettishly as the lord walked out of the shop. Then she sighed and flipped the sign to CLOSED. “Well, Rarity, it’s time to get to work.”
Pensword sighed as he closed the drawer on the newly-filled file cabinet. He looked up as Fox Feather and Night Terror entered the small office space. “Girls, I’m afraid I need to ask you two to be my eyes and ears for a while. Hammer Strike needs me on one of his more hush missions.” By now, most of the city knew something was up. Supplies had been loading into the Gantrithor for the last couple of days. Fortunately, Grif’s cover story of ship maintenance had placated the majority of inquirers.
Fox Feather gave a salute. “Of course. It’ll give Night Terror and me time to prepare to announce the engagement.”
Pensword smiled and couldn’t help but chuckle. “I can’t wait to see the look on your father’s face.”
Night Terror blushed. “Nor can I. I look forward to learning what it means to be a clan leader’s wife while thou art gone.”
Pensword’s ear twitched, and he smirked. “Trying to butter me up with the old language? Cute, but unnecessary. I have to show that I’m ready to lead a modern force, not drag everything back to when I first served Equestria.” Night Terror’s ears folded back at the reproach, until he leaned in and whispered, “But in the bedroom, it is perfectly fine.”
Night Terror’s whole face turned red.
Fox Feather grinned. “I’ll see about getting her ready to handle a few brews, too.”
“No, Fox Feather. I only can accept one mare who likes the bottle too much,” Pensword said sternly. “As for Eclipse, I’d like you two to follow his lead in regards to the settlement. And by Luna’s light, find if there’s something to make those who are upset over the changes happy, please. Many of the folk in the settlement aren’t too happy with me at the moment, but they might open up to one of you.”
Night Terror nodded. “I’ll make sure the Solar Court can’t use the discontent against you. If the settlement realizes just what might happen if the Solar Court learns about it in the first place, they might realize the advantages of adhering to the law properly. If worse comes to worst, we’ll ask Eclipse for his assistance and take the matter before the council.”
Pensword raised a brow, but was otherwise silent.
Finally, Night Terror spoke up. “My brother informed me of some of the things he heard around court as an early wedding gift. I don’t know how much of it is true and how much a potential false trail being offered by my father, but I’ll forward it to the proper channels.”
Pensword nodded his head. “Right, and Night Terror, thank you.”
She blushed, then curtseyed. “You’re welcome.”
Pensword smirked. “Say, Fox Feather, since you were so good at this back in the old days, maybe you can teach Night Terror how to do paperwork?”
Night Terror’s blush quickly faded into a sulky pout while Fox Feather laughed.
“I’ll do what I can,” the mare promised between gasps.
Pensword smiled and handed off some of the less sensitive paper work that he could get away with, just enough for Night Terror to learn the basics. He then returned to the pile that awaited him, hoping against hope to finish before the departure date. At this point, he doubted it would be possible. Memories of his human father spending entire weeks grading papers and literally eating in his office, rather than being with the family flashed through his mind. “Now I finally understand,” he muttered, then sighed as he returned to his task. “Here’s hoping the children can forgive me.”
“Please. Do you actually think we’d let you stay away too long?” Fox Feather chuckled. “Not going to happen. We’ll drag you in irons, if we have to.”
Pensword chuckled. “Thanks, Fox Feather. I needed that.”
Six days later, in the late evening, Grif and Hammer Strike stood aboard the Gantrithor’s deck. Between them, they had several lists varying from personnel to equipment to cargo, and everything was being double checked carefully.
“I wasn’t entirely sure what we’d need for personal arms, so I packed a little of everything. Spears, arming swords, bucklers. I figured better to have it and not need it,” Grif noted as he opened the lid of a crate to show the items within. He checked the number on the crate and checked it off his list.
“We’ll probably need some mages on both ends, Equestrian and Gryphon as well.” Hammer Strike hummed. “And some additional engineers of sorts, since we are looking into an advanced civilization of tech and magic.”
“I’ve stocked the stores with enough rations to feed us all for a week or so, and enough hard tack for a month, if we require longer. I’m still trying to get the numbers for if there is anything left in the lower decks after our kitsune friend’s stay.”
“I’ll look into a system for transport between the levels of the ship after this.” Hammer Strike shrugged. “It’ll make it easier to get around to check everything with less worry of getting lost.”
Grif nodded. “I asked caring to whip these up for us.” He handed Hammer Strike a specially adjusted earpiece. “They’ll let her keep in contact with us, in case there’s something the crew doesn’t need to know.”
Hammer Strike looked it over for a moment before nodding as he equipped it. “Useful.”
“My crew’s been told everything they see and hear is classified. Fortunately, with my contracts, that will keep them from saying anything. I’ve septuple checked each of Daring’s acquaintances and every person she so much as spoke to up to this point. Everyone who was a risk has been bought or silenced. I found a few leaks in her own network that explains how her enemies always find her.” The Gryphon chuckled.
“Good to hear. This one cannot get out.” Hammer Strike frowned as he looked over their lists.
“Yeah, if they’re even Earth level for technology, that's still too much to let out,” Grif agreed.
“Grif, that tablet alone was better than earth tech,” Hammer Strike commented quietly in Draconic. “Magitech is the best way to describe it, and if that’s just a research module, imagine what the empire itself is like…”
“You don’t have to worry. The area’s a no fly zone, and Circlet’s prepared to shoot on sight if anything gets within earshot of us,” Grif assured his friend. “Did you get Daring to sign something regarding us having priority in this venture?”
“Something close to it.”
“We’ve got three months. That’ll be the maximum I can keep this silent. This is very big news. I had to use everything to make it work.”
“First trip will be a month at longest. Our second trip will be to seal things up and deal with all ‘advanced’ issues accordingly.”
“Okay, any idea how you want this to break when it does?”
“It can’t be anything less of a grand discovery.” Hammer Strike sighed. “But at least we can deal with everything first to ensure nothing dangerous goes to the public.”
“Yeah, I'll be taking helm for most of this trip, so I’ll make sure that if anything comes up, you’re the first to know.”
“Glad to hear it.”
“Anyway, I packed several crates of various supplies that might come in handy but aren't vital to the venture, just in case.” Grif handed him a list. “Anything you think is unnecessary?”
“Focus less on the weapon side of things. We’re probably going to rely mostly on defense if anything happens. Of course, still keep some around.”
Grif nodded. “Okay. I'll adjust that before dawn. I’ve got a crew coming in an hour to finish last minute checks and make sure everything’s ready. Anything else we need to discuss?”
“Not off the top of my head. That should be everything.”
“I’ve set the imperial suite up for you and Rarity. Figured it would serve you better than me and Avalon this time.”
“I appreciate it, Grif.” Hammer Strike stretched as a crack sounded from his neck. “I need to finish off any important paperwork that has been left for me before we head off. Also, send a message to Celestia and Luna. They told me they wanted to keep up with what was going on at the island.”
“Go on. You’ll see me in the morning.” Grif gave a wave. “I’ve got plans to make.”
Hammer Strike chuckled. “Just like old times.”
Grif smirked. “Isn’t it always?”
“Is that everyone?” Grif asked hammer strike as they finished final checks.
“Should be,” Hammer Strike replied as he sorted through his lists. “All personnel and cargo are accounted for.”
“And my students are standing by,” Avalon promised as she emerged from the deck entrance.
“Good to hear.” Grif nodded. “And thanks for doing this. I know it’s sudden, but we honestly don’t know what we’ll find.”
“And you think Gryphon magic might pose a greater advantage because Alicorns haven’t dealt with it before?”
“Unicorns are fearsome on their own. Each has full access to their own magic stores and can cast spells straight from their brain to their horns. But we have one advantage they don’t.”
“And that is?”
“You can cast a barrier, and I or one of your students can instantly attach to the spell and strengthen its nature. Unicorns need to harmonize to do so, and the effect can be hit and miss, but Gryphon magic can link without much thought, just intent. One Alicorn might overpower one Gryphon, but sixteen Gryphons all reinforcing one another? It would take a lot to break that much power.”
“We’ll see how it goes. I admit my students still have a lot to learn.”
“I’m sure Clover’s students do, too. Has Vital checked in yet?” Grif asked hammer strike.
“Twenty minutes ago. He’s on the lower levels near his quarters.”
“And Daring’s people? They’re not wandering around my ship, I hope?”
“Upper levels, near the civilian study/office space,” Hammer Strike replied as he turned over his list.
“They were informed the engine rooms off limits and under guard?”
“Yes. They’ve also been warned that the lower sections are off limits as well.”
“We can set up barriers to make sure nobody wanders where they don’t belong. It will be good practice for my students,” Avalon offered.
“If it won’t tax them.” Grif nodded. “Sorry, Hammer Strike. I shouldn’t be questioning you. I’m just a little antsy. Technically, this ship could be considered an artifact, and I don’t want them trying to start trouble about it.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’ve placed markers on them that Clover can track as a just-in-case,” Hammer Strike replied as he placed his list inside his coat. “With that all in order, I believe we can head to the helm and depart?”
“Circlet finished the safety checks. We’re green as soon as everyone’s below deck.” Grif nodded as he turned for the helm.
Hammer Strike followed behind, pulling out the strange Alicorn tablet as he prepared it.
“Is it thaumic?” Grif asked as they entered the bridge.
“Is what Thaumic?”
“The tablet. I mean, its energy is strange, but not unfamiliar.”
“It’s true Alicorn magic, something that Celestia and Luna could cast, but it’s significantly more … dense, if you get what I mean.”
Grif nodded as he opened the door and gestured for Hammer Strike and Avalon to enter.
Hammer Strike placed himself near the front by the helm as he prepared the tablet.
Avalon sighed. “It’s a pity we haven’t had as much luck finding our lost city.”
“If the Alicorns were such grand enemies of the Gryphons in the past, it would make sense for them to contain records of the placement of key locations of the Gryphon Empire,” Hammer Strike replied, his attention still on the tablet.
“Don’t worry, my dear. I’ll have our banner outside that city next.” Grif smiled as he took his seat at the helm. “Circlet, is everyone below deck?”
The golem housing Circlet nodded. “The doors just closed. I’m sealing all exits now.”
“Aim for the coast. Prepare for course correction as soon as we’re free of eyes,” grif noted as he worked the instruments.
“Already done so. We’ll vanish somewhere over the eastern planes.” Circlet nodded. “I have my sensors on as far as they’ll go. Given Hammer Strike’s considerable modifications, we should be able to avoid any tails.”
“Okay, bridge dampeners on at full power, engines at seventy, all hands secure. We’re gone.” And with that, Grif steered the ship away from the dock, and it left unity in an easterly direction. The hunt had begun.
Four days of constant journey went by slower than Hammer Strike would have liked, but it was their optimal speed without causing any issues for passengers and supplies. He stared at the holographic map as it displayed their position compared to the island. There was nothing between them and the island, leaving them a straight shot to it.
However, after staring at the markers on the map for long enough Hammer Strike noted something strange. They were traveling in a straight line towards the island, but the map was saying otherwise.
“Circlet, are we heading in a straight line, or are the winds strong enough to actually move us?” He questioned as he studied the map.
“All sensors claim we’re going in a straight line,” Circlet noted.
“It appears that we aren’t.” Hammer Strike frowned as he directed her attention toward the map. “Looks like we need to correct our course by… twenty degrees east.”
“My sensors say doing so would put us off course,” Circlet noted. “I need you to confirm whether you truly believe that to be the correct course of action.”
Hammer Strike hummed to himself for a moment. “Set the correction. I’d like to trust this for now, since it located the city in the first place.”
“Course correction set,” Circlet noted as the ship began to veer.
Hammer Strike kept watch over the map, and despite everything saying they would be headed away from the island, they were now going in a straight line towards the island. “It says we’re on track now, so here’s hoping we don’t have to make more corrections.”
“What is our estimated travel time remaining?” Hammer Strike questioned the tablet.
“Estimated at current velocity, arrival time in thirty minutes and twenty seconds,” it responded with a faint pulse.
“It says we’ll be there in half an hour,” Hammer Strike commented aloud to Circlet.
“Current destination’s not marked, so we’ll have to believe it until proven otherwise,” Circlet noted.
“Would you mind calling Grif back up here? And please tell him it’s no rush.”
“He’ll be arriving soon,” she answered back moments later.
Ten minutes later, Grif arrived on the bridge. “You needed me?”
“We’re twenty minutes out,” Hammer Strike replied. “From what the tablet says, at least.”
Time went by as they stared at the horizon. Fifteen minutes, ten minutes, and soon five minutes till arrival, and yet there was no sign of the island.
Hammer Strike sighed as he looked to the tablet, it marked them as nearly at their destination, and yet there was nothing in sight. “Great. Now we’ve got to regather our position and track it down ignoring the map.”
“Should I do a scouting—?”
Grif was suddenly cut off as the tablet pulsed green and spoke aloud. “Authenticating transport.”
As soon as it finished talking, a field of energy washed over the entirety of the Gantrithor, causing several alerts from Circlet. But nothing was worse for wear. The ship rocked for a moment before resettling. And there in the distance, right ahead of them, was an island, large and covered in tall structures of unknown material. Green coated most of the surfaces, signifying how long the land had been left to itself.
“I think we found it,” Circlet commented.
“They were hiding it. The entire island was cloaked…” Hammer Strike spoke in awe. “Based off what the map showed me, it was subtly adjusting our course outside of our notice, and was cloaked, even if we did get this close naturally.”
“Receiving message. Ii can’t understand it, but it seems to be some kind of artificial being.” Circlet’s eyes took on a neutral blue. “This is docking intelligence 4572 ple``` ````mit clearance code ----- airspace unidentified ````````ubject to armed response.”
“Uh,” Hammer Strike tapped the tablet to awaken it. “Relay authentication codes.”
The tablet pulsed green once more before returning to its natural blue state.
Circlet’s eyes flashed the same shade of green momentarily before they too returned to blue. “Code recognized. We```````eam zeta, docks 1 through 65 are currently empty. Please land at the ne``````` dock authority well be there to greet you in 3.1459265359 to the tenth power hours to debrief your leader. Good day.” Circlet’s eyes returned to normal.
“That was unsettling,” she commented.
“Sorry to put you through that, Circlet.” Hammer Strike hummed as he walked close to her. “I’ll have to start looking into altering your body to better resist these things,” he finished after a brief inspection. “Everything good for now at least?”
“The transmission has stopped. I’m feeling some sort of signature below.” Near the city’s gate, a large platform seemed to float up from an open hatch under its own power with no visible energy source or indicators of any kind. It stopped only a hundred feet or so below the Gantrithor and produced a small blue beam from some unseen emitter, which proceeded to trace the ship. Instantly, the platform expanded, pulling metal seemingly from the ether. It expanded in length until it exceeded the Gantrithor’s own length. Then the beam turned red as the ship was guided in place to the platform without Grif or Circlet’s input. The Gantrithor parked with the deck level to the platform. Deciding it was better to play along, Grif depowered the ship in a parked position.
“Well, that was weird,” Grif commented as the beam vanished.
“Welcome to the norm, but yeah.” Hammer Strike hummed to himself. “And, despite being in such a bad state, they performed quite smoothly.”
“I guess since Alicorns could fly, they didn’t need docks to actually connect to anything.” Grif shrugged.
“It’ll probably come together shortly, giving us a way out.” Hammer Strike hummed. “We’ll have to gather everyone topside and prepare for departure.
“I’ll leave a small squad onboard. Ghost city or not, I don't want the ship unguarded.” Grif shivered. “This place gives me the willies.”
“It really doesn’t feel right, does it?” Hammer Strike commented as he looked out the window over the city.
“Circlet, connect me to the intercom,” Grif instructed.
“Connected.”
“All hands, personnel and archeology team report to the deck within thirty minutes. Bring everything you can think of needing. All forces have full gear and be prepared. We don’t know what's down there.” Grif nodded to Circlet, who then cut the transmission.
“I’ll see you out there,” grif told Hammer Strike. “I’m going to get ready.”
“One last thing, Grif.”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t use any major forms of thaumaturgy here.” Hammer Strike continued to stare out at the city. His eyes gleamed with the light of that same art as he scanned the area.
Grif nodded. “I’ll do my best.” He made for the door. “That's going to take some getting used to.”
Hammer Strike’s ears twitched, and he nodded in agreement as the door closed behind them. The city was drenched in thaumic energy. It was remarkably dense, and from what Hammer Strike could guess, it was spread so far out that they weren’t able to discern it. Whatever or whoever happened to the Alicorns, they left their mark.
Vital Spark whistled as he stared at the imposing structures before them. The metal was coated in a dark substance not unlike volcanic ash, but it seemed to become more of a sticky residue on contact. Beneath the layer, the same golden metal as the structure that housed their airship laid in wait. “Definitely a certain amount of magic flowing through here, but the circuits are much more refined. Probably why the system was able to still function in the first place. I think it’s designed to absorb the base mana in the air and convert it into energy stores.”
“Close, but not quite right. I had Circlet run some scans, and it appears that the energy radiating from the Gantrithor is being picked up by some of these machines. So only things within range of the Gantrithor are active,” Hammer Strike explained. “It appears to stretch out nearly half a mile, but after that, everything is inactive. So, while everyone gathered, I began work on some relays to push things out.” He gestured to a series of crystals atop metal spikes. “They glow when in range, and are obtaining energy, so we’ll know what’s working and what isn’t.”
“So, we’re each to take one of these with us in our teams to investigate the inner city?” Vital queried.
“I was only able to make so many in the time we had, so we’ll have to give a small collective to small squads to venture out. That means we’ll have, at best, six teams of four or twelve teams of two,” Hammer Strike explained. “Either with a set of four relays or eight relays. Each squad must also have at least one soldier in it.”
“Where you go, I go, darling,” Rarity said pointedly.
Pensword looked anxiously at the city. He was worried, not only because Eclipse was furious when he saw his name was on this list, but because the city might not like the idea of lesser beings roaming its streets. He looked to Grif. “Last I heard, Gryphons and Alicorns were fighting each other. We might need something to keep the city from attacking Grif.” He looked to Hammer Strike. “This is an alien city whose residents could have been anything from welcoming to anything equine to closed off and looking out on the world from an ivory tower. The main concern for now should be safeguarding lives.”
“The system isn’t registering us on an individual level, Pensword. If it did, we would have been attacked on entry,” Hammer Strike replied as he grabbed a few relays.
“Seems like an oversight,” Pensword muttered. “We had a key, true. We were smart enough to activate it. My concern is whether they were so arrogant that they thought no creature but them could activate them or if they put safeguards around the entries.”
“If they set a system in place for that, I would have expected it to activate sooner.” Hammer Strike shrugged. “Considering the current groups, we’ll be mostly sending out Ponies until something else pops up otherwise. Apart from Grif and selected individuals.”
“All right, so who’s going with which soldiers, then?” Vital asked.
“We’ll sort it out based off a head, a scholar, mage, and soldier. Three of us count as a head, while you, Vital, are under the mage category,” Hammer Strike explained.
“What are our priorities right now?” Grif asked.
“Expand the relay system out in specific directions, locate facilities and other things our archeologist Daring may want to explore. I’d hope for us to find the main station for power distribution, but that’s just a side goal.”
“A good side goal to have,” Pensword agreed. “I think the four teams is good, though I’m curious why Circlet can’t just manufacture more relays now that you made a base model.”
“She doesn’t make the relays. They’re all made by me,” Hammer Strike explained as he held one up. “These are thaumic relays, which connected themselves to each other and the core of the Gantrithor. They have a limited range, but should be sufficient enough for us to expand the power grid out.”
“Ah.” Pensword nodded. “If they had a zoo, the wildlife could be out there. I would recommend spending nights up here, since it’s the most secure location.”
“Given the limited range of the relays, anyway, I’m going to assume that was Hammer Strike’s plan all along,” Vital noted.
“The second thing to note is that you all have to recollect your relays at the end of the day. I don’t know what systems will be activated with these, and I’d prefer not to just leave them all active until we have a good understanding of our regions,” Hammer Strike warned.
“Sounds like a plan.” The Unicorn nodded. “So, who’s divvying up the parties?”
“Each head will be assigned to select their own units.”
“I think it would make the most sense for Avalon to come as my mage,” Grif noted.
“Rarity, if you trust yourself enough as is, would you accompany me as my mage, or would you prefer it to be left to someone else?” Hammer Strike asked.
“Probably better if I simply come along, darling. I’m not nearly so well studied as Twilight or the mages from the academy.”
“Very well. Vital, will you accompany me as the mage of my squad?”
The Unicorn shrugged. “Sure. I don’t mind.”
“Daring, will you be head or scholar of a group?”
“You’re saying I can’t be both?” She smirked. “I’ll take point. I’m used to these sorts of things. My colleagues don’t have quite the same field experience.”
“Select your group, then. And you as well, Pensword.”
It didn’t take long for the friends to organize their parties and take the relays in question. Each would have a necessary representative for the various races. And as an extra precaution, Hammer Strike warned the members that they weren’t to destroy anything without his permission, unless it threatened their lives. This was an excavation, after all.
“Okay. Bow out, arrows ready. I want full sweeps in regular intervals. Keep the scholar and the mage center. I’ll take point. You take the rear,” Grif explained to the Gryphon he’d taken for his soldier. Avalon sat nearby along with a male Unicorn. He had orangish-brown fur and mane, with the exception of a rectangular white patch on his muzzle. A similar orangish-brown goatee sprouted from his chin. He wore huge silver spectacles and a dark blue cloak covered in turquoise stars.
Grif turned to them. “Avalon, have a barrier spell prepared. Your first priority will be keeping Sunspot here safe.” Grif gestured to the Unicorn.
“Um, that’s … Sunburst, … Sir….” the scholar said in a tremulous voice.
Grif looked to him. “Sorry, it's been a long week. Listen, I appreciate this is big for you. I get the magical and historical possibilities a city like this could have for Equestria are hard to overstate. But you have to be ready to do what I say, okay? Nobody’s going to be able to benefit from this if we all die, right?”
“O-of course, Mister Bladefeather. I-I’ll follow your lead,” Sunburst promised.
“It’s Grif, not Mr. Bladefeather,” Grif said.
“Uh, right.” Sunburst cleared his throat uncomfortably. “Whatever you say.”
Grif looked pleadingly to Avalon.
The Gryphoness shrugged. “What? He’s just nervous. You are an intimidating figure, you know. And let’s not forget your historical significance to a Pony who’s made it his life’s work to study arcane lore and history.”
“Please, just, anything to calm him down. A nervous person is as dangerous as an overexcited one.”
“I’ll m-make sure to keep that in check, Sir, I-I mean Grif.” Sunburst blushed heavily. “I’ll do my best to offer whatever help I can.”
Grif rolled his eyes as he moved into the hall before them, taking long slow strides as he examined the area for anything that could be trouble.
Despite the aging, disrepair seemed to not be a common sight among the corridors. In fact, more of the damage seemed to have been caused by signs of violence than the eons of time. Grif whistled as he looked at a pillar of metal that looked like it had been broken like a plank of wood.
“May I?” Sunburst asked as he looked at some of the metal wreckage.
Grif nodded.
He picked up a smaller portion of the structure and peered at the material. A few moments later, a dim glow ran over the metal as he cast a spell on it. “Fascinating. I wondered why this felt so familiar. This metal is literally formed by the conscious manipulation of silicates to bind together into a cohesive form that can easily modify itself in accordance with a particular command. I can still feel just a hint of a signature. The organization is eerily similar to the palace at the Crystal Empire.”
“You’re saying the Alicorns likely used similar building methods?”
“Possibly, though it would require further study to even begin to postulate the algorithms and spell formulae involved in something this intricate.”
“Put that in your notes and we’ll see about it for the second trip,” Grif advised.
“Yes, Sir!” Sunburst said. The researcher was eager to comply.
As they moved forward, the architecture of the area began to change. There were less signs of battle, and the materials seemed to change, becoming denser. Sunburst theorized several large buildings could be factories, though far more advanced than anything he’d seen. Strangely enough, Grif had found twice recently that when he placed a relay, small spherical machines were released that moved busily to and fro. They seemed to be scanning the buildings and machinery within.
“Perhaps some form of maintenance device?” Sunburst postulated.
“Given the fact they're not attacking, I’d say that’s a fairly good guess,” Avalon agreed.
“I’ll document this for Hammer Strike,” Sunburst said.
“Lets just hope these relays don’t awaken something less hospitable,” Grif commented.
“If they do, then we’ll just have to beat a hasty retreat with relay in hand,” Avalon said coolly. “For now, we should probably press deeper. We can report back to Hammer Strike after we’ve exhausted all our relays.”
“Not supposed to leave them behind,” Grif noted.
“And we won’t. Doesn’t change the fact he wants us to use them all, then retrieve them after we’ve mapped the area.”
“Still, let’s be careful. If this area’s industrial, there’s a good chance the next will be military,” Grif noted.
“Good point,” Avalon agreed. “Do you want me to cast any cloaking spells?”
“Honestly not sure it will matter one way or another,” Grif noted. “Best to keep barrier prepared.”
Pensword trotted through the walls of the city. Unlike the other segments, the majority of this area seemed to be made almost entirely of stone. The crumpled remains of metal orbs and what appeared to be feathers of some kind littered the ground. A quick order to the scholar led to one of these strange feathers getting bagged for analysis later. Most of the buildings had fallen in or been reduced to their foundations, as though some giant hand had leveled the structures with a single swipe.
“What happened here?” the commander asked as he planted another relay.
“It’s difficult to say. The decay could have been the result of natural aging, depending on the materials used. Or it could have been an overall lack of magic to maintain bonds. Or it could have been an outside force that leveled the structures with explosive results. There are too many variables to be certain. I’m inclined to think the first or second, however. While the Alicorns were certainly powerful enough to wreak this kind of destruction, it makes no sense that they would do so themselves. After all, it was their city.”
“Any signs of what this place may have been, Lost Scribe?” Pensword asked the scholar.
“Given the general dimensions of the buildings, it’s obvious they aren’t factories or any sort of industrial centers. No weapons implies no armory. Whatever these buildings are, they have no function that I’m aware of that pertains to our mission at the moment.”
“Then we press on until we find something that’s recognizable.” Pensword nodded. “Let’s move, team. This mission is recon. We’ll examine the wreckage and the interiors of the buildings after we finish charting out the lay of the land.”
“Yes, Sir, Pensword,” the warrior of their unit replied. Lost Scribe merely scribbled down the portion of town where they had arrived in her notes, and they continued forward.
Pensword’s gaze darted back and forth as the party continued its advance down the streets. This place was home to one of the greatest civilizations that had ever existed on the planet. Such a place should have left an imprint, an impression, a sense of awe. Instead, all the Pony could feel was … nothing. No sense of being watched, no emotional imprint or spiritual hints. It was as if the city were dead, not only on the physical level, but on the metaphysical. “What force could cause such an exorcism?” he muttered to himself.
“Did you say something, Sir?” Lost Scribe asked.
“Just taking note of the situation.” Pensword shrugged and carried on. Lost Scribe wasn’t from New Unity, and the Pegasus wasn’t going to tell unauthorized personnel about his special sense if he could help it. “Let’s carry on. We still have a lot more ground to cover.”
Vital Spark shuddered as they passed through the decrepit shadows of the ancient city. Incomplete spires twisted skyward, some interspersed with crystal, others with little more than the dusty remains of stone. Jagged metal shards littered the street with large chunks of wood, stone, and other debris.
“This place looks like a war zone.”
“It certainly looks like it wasn’t natural decay.” Hammer Strike looked to a large barrier wall, which was clearly scattered toward the main roads. “Too many markings of outward force being added.”
“So some sort of attack? It couldn’t have been the Gryphons,” Rarity noted. “They would have lorded it over the other races.”
“The best way to discover the truth would likely be to locate the city’s historical archives. If this place is as advanced as you suggest, Hammer Strike, then it’s likely they would have some means to record what happened,” a younger Earth Pony said as he peered over the wreckage.
“Footage is typically one of the first things to go.” Hammer Strike hummed aloud. “Even the audio log on the tablet we recovered wasn’t fully intact.” After a couple more steps, the relay at his side suddenly stopped glowing, resulting in him stopping, taking a few steps backwards, and planting it in the ground. After ensuring it was secure, he grabbed a new one to place at his side.
“One down, three to go,” Vital noted. “So, based on the distance we traveled, that would give us a maximum range of … what, about a quarter mile?”
“Per relay, yeah.”
“One mile into the city. Depending on what district we go through, that can yield a lot of information,” the Unicorn mused.
“Provided we don’t uncover any dangerous artifacts along the way,” their scholar noted casually.
“Should anything of the sort be uncovered, we simply pull back to disable whatever it is that could be considered dangerous.” Hammer Strike shrugged before continuing to scan their environment.
“Darling, I think I may have found something.” Rarity pointed toward what appeared to be the fragments of some sort of display. Static danced across the screen in short periodic bursts, followed by a series of unfamiliar characters.
Hammer Strike pulled out a small scroll as he scanned the display. After a few minutes of going back and forth, he frowned. “This is apparently a central magic research facility, or was.” He looked through one of the openings to notice a large amount of rubble and shards of metal. “We’ll have to set this on the backlog of places to explore.” He squinted slightly before nodding to himself. “With all that in the way, we’d either have to unequip ourselves or spend over a week clearing it out with no idea what is farther in.”
“I assume we don’t have time for that,” Vital noted.
“We can’t waste that much time on a single location for this trip.” Hammer Strike shook his head.
“Then I guess we’ll just have to mark this place as a point of interest on the map for later.”
Hammer Strike nodded. “For now, we’ll head over that way.” He pointed toward another building. “It’s another research wing, but it appears to be more toward—” He looked down to his parchment and back again. “Mechanical pursuits is the simplest way I can put it.”
“Like Gryphic mechanical or something more advanced?” Vital asked.
“Considering our location, more advanced.”
“It’s certainly going to prove an interesting experience,” Rarity said. “Does your tablet make any reference to potential security systems?”
Hammer Strike pulled out the tablet once more. “Is the automated security active in this region?”
“Security Systems in this district are offline.”
“It appears they’re offline, at least in this district.”
“So, before we go in there, what are the rules?” Vital asked. “Just so everypony is clear on them.”
“Refrain from physically interacting with as much as possible, unless cleared or that it is obviously not a threat.”
“I assume the same goes with using magic on anything?”
“Correct.”
Vital took a deep breath. “All right. I guess we should go see what we’re dealing with.”
Hammer Strike nodded, leading the group into the research wing. He made a mental note to return to this location to study the other laboratory, though he was certain of one thing, he wouldn’t be able to bring his full kit. There was too much energy in the air. It would conflict with his thaumic field.
“All right,” Daring said as she drew herself up in the council chamber of the Gantrithor. “Here’s what we know so far. Based on our recon from the last few days, the city shows signs of more than the usual form of decay. There is evidence of blunt force on a massive scale. The majority of the damage appears to have been the result of some form of shrapnel or debris, but I wouldn’t be surprised if greater evidence of some form of explosion or other force were found deeper in the city.” She pointed toward a holographic projection provided courtesy of Circlet. A series of pulsing blue lines traced out from the image of the Gantrithor and into the buildings and streets beyond. “Thanks to the relays, we’ve been able to chart a rough portion of the city and the direction of certain channels of power that fed off the energy provided by said relays. In theory, once we isolate enough of these conduits, we may be able to find their original source and restore power.”
“If I recall correctly, Grif, you explored an industrial segment of the city, correct?” Hammer Strike questioned.
“Yes, though we ran into some military-looking buildings near the end. Also, we encountered what appear to be maintenance bots, and…” He cleared his throat and spoke in English. “We managed to look closely at their building materials. Our scholar noted they were eerily similar to how the crystal empire was built.”
Hammer Strike nodded. “It should be within that region, then, given how much of the security systems are damaged. I think it may be fine enough to work on powering up the city, though we’ll definitely have to use the Gantrithor’s core to do so, since there is no way for us to know how their systems work entirely.”
“I trust that won’t affect Circlet?” Grif asked.
“Circlet runs off a seperate system, in technicality,” Hammer Strike explained.
“I thought she was bound to the core, though,” Vital said. “Won’t a reduction in energy affect her connection to this plane?”
“Vital, at current, we haven’t tapped into a tenth the power the core could provide at maximum,” Grif noted.
“We also don’t know how much energy this city will take. I’m just suggesting we take things slowly if we’re going to use the core to power the city is all.”
“And, as I mentioned, a lot of the systems are currently offline or damaged beyond use, meaning that the power drain of the city would be significantly less than in its prime,” Hammer Strike explained. “The relays can take as much as the core will give, but with Circlet as the main control of it, she can sway the energy cost.”
“Then I guess I don’t have any objections. It’s in Circlet’s court now. Are you all right with this plan, Circlet?” Vital asked.
“I have no objections to this plan. You wouldn’t put me in danger.”
“Then that settles that.” Hammer Strike nodded. “We’ll restore power to the city. Be sure to bring at least one other individual, Grif. As much as I hate to say it, teams of two at least.”
“Yeah, I suppose that makes sense.” Grif shrugged.
“Speaking of which, I need someone with wings to accompany me to a lab. In particular, I need someone who’s on the smaller side.” Hammer Strike shrugged. “Anyone at the table interested who doesn’t have a task lined up?”
“How small are we talking?” Daring asked.
“Roughly your size.”
“So, my size, with wings, and at this table. Why do I get the feeling I’m the only one that fits this criteria?”
“I can find someone else, if you aren’t interested in a high-tech lab.” Hammer Strike shrugged.
“I’m just wondering why you didn’t just save us time and say you wanted me to go in the first place.” She shrugged, then smirked. “When do we leave?”
“As soon as possible. I’ve got something I need to figure out.”
Daring nodded. “I just need to grab some gear. Anything else you wanted to cover for this meeting?”
“Once power is restored, we can look into re-searching regions we’ve been to before.” Hammer Strike sat back in his chair. “Of course, only some members have a cipher for translation, which I’d prefer to keep that way, so our squads will eventually have to start moving out with quite a number of more members.”
“For strength in numbers or some other reason?”
“Because I don’t want many to have the cipher,” he replied simply.
Daring nodded. “Okay, let’s get probing. Your secret lab isn’t going to find itself.”
“Keep your gear light.” Hammer Strike stood from the table. “I’ve got to readjust myself as well.” He frowned as he left the room.
Vital looked awkwardly around the room. “I guess council dismissed,” he said as he rose from his chair. “If anybody needs me, I’ll be polishing my staff and brushing up on some spells in my room.”
Grif let out a chuckle as he stood. “Think about what you said without context, Vital,” Grif noted before leaving.
Vital’s cheeks blazed as Grif’s words sank in. His voice carried after the Gryphon, followed by the sound of rapidly receding hoofbeats. “Grif, get your mind out of the gutter!”
“You doing okay?” Grif asked Avalon as they moved through the halls.
“I’m not an invalid yet, you know, even if I am going to have triplets.”
“Not suggesting you were, but this place is new and strange,” Grif noted. “Hopefully, it shouldn’t be much farther now.” He looked around. About thirty minutes ago, the buildings had switched from factories to what seemed like barracks, and later on larger finer buildings that could only be administrative.”
“And the place our ancestors have wanted to find and destroy for so long. It’s strange that we happen to be the Gryphons that wind up here after all this time and animosity.”
“Honestly, who’s to say the animosity wasn’t earned?” Grif noted. “Nothing here seems worth awe.”
“Nothing here’s fully functional either.”
“That will change,” Grif noted as they kept going.
“How do you know that?” Sunburst asked.
“We’re heading for the core,” Grif noted. “If the relays are activating things, it generally means a lack of power is all there is.”
“And, um, not to sound disrespectful, but … how do we know we’re going the right way?”
“A sense I can't fully explain.” Grif shrugged. “Also, if you had a power source that could run a city, you’d probably keep it near where you ran it, so no one could take control of it from you.” He concentrated his thaumic vision and took in the city with new eyes. A little farther down their current path, he noted a brighter patch. Then he blinked and his eyes returned to normal. “I’d say we’re close”
“Then let’s get to it,” Avalon said. “Hammer Strike wants that power restored as soon as possible, after all.”
“And the scholar in you has no curiosity about what we’ll find when it’s back?” Grif asked her.
“The mage in me is more worried about providing protection in the off chance that what we find may want to kill us,” she noted. “I’ll leave the curiosity to Sunburst.”
“Um … thank you?” Sunburst said.
Grif rolled his eyes as he carved an arrow in a wall and walked on. Eventually, they came to a medium-sized octangular building raised from the ground on stairs that seemed to surround it from every direction. An entrance faced them directly. It was a simple rectangular opening. Above it, however, was a relief of three Alicorns looking down. The central one had four legs visible, while the outer two only had two.
“Sleipnir,” he murmured. “But why two depictions of Faust?” He shook his head, rolled his eyes, and entered the building. The ground sloped downwards to a central point where a large metallic orb sat in a depression. “I think we found the core.”
“Because of the conduits running underneath it?” Sunburst asked.
“Also because this building is a magic circle,” Grif noted. “The stairs form the ring.” He pointed to several half pillars sticking out in the eight points. “Points for the star. If you traced the circuitry, you’d likely find the formula.”
“I’d heard you were well-read, but that really is something else. I hadn’t even considered the possibility of a three-dimensional model for a magical circle. It could revolutionize magical defense in Equestria, assuming we can adapt those principles to each of our towns,” Sunburst noted.
“It’s not really that unusual for a Gryphon to notice.” Avalon shrugged. “We’ve used that kind of technique for centuries in our airships and other structures as they’ve been needed.”
“Despite not having magic?”
“It’s the power that matters, and provided the runes have been properly engraved, our blood and the storm cores will take care of the rest.”
“That is incredible! I have so many questions for you now!”
Avalon chuckled. “I suppose some things are just universal among us scholars.”
“He can grill you back at base.” Grif chuckled as he planted the relay next to the core. When it activated, there was a burst of power which encompassed the core. Immediately, it began to draw all the power it could. Grif stepped back to not be caught in the draw as more energy flowed into the sphere.
The sphere began to hum in an unusual tone as it levitated just off the ground. Runes and circuits of power lit up as they were filled. Soon the room was glowing with power as more and more circuits became visible and the energy spread from the core building into the city.
In the Gantrithor’s core room, the bloodstone core began to glow as power radiated from it. Its first layer had already detached and was orbiting the core like electrons around an atom. Slowly, the second layer likewise began to detach as more power filled the relay network toward the Alicorn core.
With a heavy surge of power, the city’s core lit up. Light and energy flowed along the surviving runic pathways, and the city that had slept for millennia hummed with life.
Sunburst gaped at the machine. “The way it absorbed that magic and distributed it….” He trailed off and scribbled violently on his scroll. “Is it possible?” He shook his head. “Needs more study.”
“Care to share with the rest of the class?” Avalon asked.
“It’s still a theory for now. There’s no guarantee that it’s true, but the similarities are striking.” He turned and peered intently at Grif. “You were there at the Crystal Empire when Sombra returned, weren’t you?”
“Not the moment he returned or his defeat,” Grif noted. “We were in stone at that time.”
“Then I’ll have to analyze it myself when I return to the Crystal Empire. But if my hypothesis is correct, then this core is currently functioning in a manner similar, if not identical to the crystal heart and city when its power is invoked.”
“But on a few thousand times scale,” Grif noted. “Let’s get farther away. I don’t trust this much energy radiating from one place.”
“Whatever you say, darling. You are the leader, after all,” Avalon said, then smirked as she gestured toward the door. “After you.”
It didn’t take long for them to emerge from the tunnel and back into the city’s ruins. Several more of the orbs they had seen earlier had become active on the streets.
“You two head toward that building.” Grif gestured to a building a few hundred feet away as they left. “There’s something I need to check.”
“Isn’t rule number one supposed to be not splitting the party?” Sunburst asked nervously.
“Except in cases like this,” Avalon said clinically as she started to push the orange Unicorn. “Trust me, you don’t want to argue with him when he makes up his mind. I’m sure he’ll return to us quickly enough, and we can work on gathering more data in the meantime.”
Sunburst gulped, but nodded. “O-okay.”
Avalon winked at her husband. “Try not to keep us waiting for too long, okay?”
“My dear, you of all people know there is only one thing I am not quick at.” He gave her a wink.
Avalon blushed. “We’ll discuss that later.”
“I know, dear. At some length.” He gave her one last parting kiss, then waited until they were far enough away that he was sure they wouldn’t pick anything up from him. A few seconds later, he activated his thaumic vision and peered at the buildings. A shudder ran down his spine as his suspicions were confirmed. On a building closeby, an arrow had been drawn. Above that was a hastily scrawled version of Hammer Strike’s symbol next to Grif’s own clan symbol, all written with thaumic energy. He sighed. “I really hope this doesn’t mean what I think it means.”
Grif followed the trail as quickly as he could, leaving marks in the walls every once in a while to make sure he could find his way back. The path led around until Grif arrived in another section of the industrial military area. He found himself entering a door that led into a large room filled with strange machinery that seemed untouched by time. Consoles lit up with data he couldn’t read as it switched rapidly between characters. There was so much going on in the room that he lost track of his place as he attempted to take it all in. He bumped into something, only to feel the surface depress against his back. A voice spoke from nowhere in words he didn’t understand, and Grif felt a sudden stab to his side. Drowsiness overtook him as his entire body began to forcibly relax. The last thing he noted before the world went dark was the sensation of movement beneath him and a calm blue light.
Pensword was at the lead of his small group. Even in the daylight, a few of the remaining light posts flickered while from the windows of this rather tall and elaborate structure in the middle of what research and a few aerial recons over the area showed to be some form of residential area. They had poked around and so far recovered what might have been a few foal’s toys and other odds and ends. However, the structure gave the impression of something grand. For one thing, it had been built on an artificial hill with a wide staircase leading up to large doors greater in size than the normal passages and entryways they had seen up to this point. A park of sorts surrounded the area. The ground was overgrown with grass and wildflowers, while dry fountains held algae-filled waters. The pieces were tall with carvings on the sides of the occidental middle, with a cracked chipped stone carved umbrella-like structure that created streams of water. It was likely that the carvings became a clearer image if viewed through the wall of water that was meant to spout from above.
On closer examination, Lost Scholar was shocked to discover the stone didn’t have any carving marks. It was as if the fountain had been formed naturally on the spot. Pensword looked at the other fountains that dotted the park. Six more flanked the main entrance with three on each side of the stairs. The scholar took notes and a few observations and drawings before they returned to the stairs and resumed their climb toward the main entrance. They came across the remains of two destroyed statues strewn down either side of the staircase. While the fragments could be pieced together, it would take time to parse all of the pieces of leg, neck, torso, wing, and hoof into a proper complete piece. A project for another time. At last, they reached a new set of doors.
“Well, looks like we found a temple,” the soldier groused.
Pensword shook his head. “No, Vital got the luck of the draw. He’s going to the temple, and from the sweeps we’ve made thus far, the city appears to only have one major temple complex.” He looked up at the building as they continued their ascent.
As they reached the threshold on the landing, the doors swung out on their own, accompanied by a garbled chime. Lost Scribe almost bolted, only for the mage to use her magic to keep the Scholar rooted to the spot. Pensword knew this system well from his time on Earth. It appeared that the Alicorns had employed automatic doors as well.
They all slowly crept forward as they entered the now open portal and found a large lobby with stairs leading up and down. A large desk sat perfectly preserved, having been sheltered from the elements outside. “Looks like some sort of administration building.” Before they could answer the doors gave a different chime and the slowly swung closed again.
Lost Scribe moved closer to the doors and they sounded a chime and they swung open again.
“Okay, that’s enough, Lost Scribe. Let's move farther into the room, so we don’t keep activating the system,” he ordered. Pensword looked at the other two and used his primary feather to point at the others. “Okay, I want you to stay here. I’ll fly up the stairs and see what I can see on the top floor, maybe see how many floors go above us.” He flapped his wings, sending a cloud of dust flying throughout the lobby as the lights flickered on and off. He worked systematically, pushing what doors he could, only to meet resistance. Pulling soon solved that issue. However, the victory was short lived. Rubble stared back at him with its bleak and impassive nature. It seemed that the upper floors had fallen in on themselves. The brittle bones of wooden floorboards and snapped support beams were mixed with plaster and wooden and stone shelving units. Broken busts and other decorative pieces were strewn every which way. With his examination complete, he turned around and glided to the bottoms of the stairs.
“I think I know where we are. If the shapes of the ruins is anything like home, then I’d hazard a guess that this is a library of some sort,” Pensword announced as they had gathered around the lobby desk. The spent the next few minutes scouring the main floor. Eventually, they discovered an unusual machine built into the desk itself. A few good knocks yielded the satisfying clang of metal, and Pensword nodded in satisfaction. A bin for returns. He was certain of it.
“If this is a library, then we need to be careful,” Lost Scribe said. “The books have been well protected here, but they could still crumble if we touch them.”
Pensword shook his head. “I see no paper. If they had any books or records like that, they’d been long gone or in plain sight. And we can’t go any farther up. The entire upper portion of the building has fallen in. We’re lucky the lobby remained intact. That implies a strong foundation, and possibly a basement that we can explore. I recommend we try there next, taking precautions to avoid any areas that might show weakness in structure.”
It took some time, but they eventually discovered the door that led to the basement stairwell. The Soldier and Pensword followed up from the rear. This part of the library had been reinforced with strong stone and metal structures that had resisted the flow of time to reinforce the structure. The lights didn’t flicker down there. The space was simple, a large rom lined with shelves, a few tables, and chairs. Familiar black tablets lay scattered haphazardly over the floor and various surfaces.
Lost Scribe didn’t lose a single moment. She dashed from surface to surface and scooped up each of the precious artifacts. However, joy soon turned to a low cry of dismay. These were the books. They had to be. But the screens didn’t react to her touch. The technology was dead. Nothing they could do would be able to restore them. Though Hammer Strike might.
“Gather them all, Lost Scribe. Just because we can’t operate them now doesn’t mean we won’t be able to in the future. Hammer Strike may be able to come up with something.” Pensword passed into the chamber and joined the scholar as she slowly began to pick up the items. “We’ll organize them into two parts: Those that are operation and those that are not.” A thorough search yielded a small trove of tablets that were still operable. The questionable ones had been stored in saddlebags in preparation for transport to the Gantrithor.
Their search had also yielded the existence of many foreign machines and monitors. At most Pensword could only theorize as to their use. But if it turned out any were true, it would be intriguing to test them out at a later date. For now, they would take their precious cargo back to the ship. They had done good work for the day.
Far away from the island, over hills and valleys, forests and tundras, and across the great dunes of Equis’ largest desert in a hidden location, a small black tablet lit up with a loud chirp. There was a startled gasp as a rich brown energy enveloped it. In the darkened room, the light of the tablet reflected off two round panes of glass as its data was examined.
“Ooh, a Gryphon. So, the Gryphons found it, then. Ah, but this one….” The person manipulated the screen with a few deft swipes. “Capable of direct magic manipulation? Traces of divine energy, and…” There was a gasp and a flutter of wings. “Aer?” There was a chuckle. “This is interesting.”
As the world groggily swam back into place for Grif, he found himself coming to in that mysterious laboratory he had entered, only he was on the opposite side of the room. A panel nearby flashed symbols and equations rapidly. His first instinct was to lash out in anger at the machinery. He suppressed that urge with a careful application of willpower. There were too many reasons not to even consider that.
Grif was aware he was drugged, but he was unaware of what he’d been drugged with, which meant his thaumic field couldn’t detox it. He’d have to deal with it the old-fashioned way. He let out a few coughs as his body registered its next complaint. His throat felt like sandpaper. He retrieved his canteen from his pack and drank until his throat felt mostly better.
Slowly, Grif began concentrating on his thaumic vision again. It took him some time, but he was able to pick up the trail again. He found himself being led through many interconnected tunnels that seemed to lead to more laboratory buildings. They got more and more sterile as time went on. And then the trail split. One branch went forward while another veered into a door on the left. Grif took a moment before deciding to examine the new direction. He could come back this way later.
He found himself inside a narrow room filled with panels and what seemed to be screens of some kind. A window opened on the far wall to show another identical room. This one, however, had the far wall lined with large devices Grif could only guess were tanks of some kind. Most were sealed with no evidence of tampering. Three, however, were severely damaged. One had been cut open from the outside, most likely by some form of magic. Another looked like something had torn its way out from the inside, with the metal rent to pieces bending inside and out. The third was the strangest of all. It, too, looked like something had torn it’s way out, but the edges were warped, as though the metal had melted. Other places seemed to have shattered, as if frozen and then broken apart.
Grif gave these his attention for a few moments before he looked for the trail and found it leading to a panel in the far corner. This one was rapidly flashing not only data, but images of Dragons, Gryphons, Ponies, and more. It seemed the Alicorns had been working on some very weird things. The trail stopped at this panel, so Grif looked around for a clue. And then the image changed again. It wasn’t in colour, but the profile was unmistakable. A tall scarred Earth Pony stood in the picture. The upper portion of its left ear was missing.
The ground pulsed beneath him, and Grif looked at the floor to behold a message emerging in his thaumic sight. While there was no doubt the energy signature was Hammer Strike’s, the penmanship was not. The writing was almost robotic in how perfect each letter had been written, right down to the spacing between words and characters.
How strange it is, to have to rely on you to do what I am unable to. Grif, I hate to have to do this, but I need you to do a few things for me. I don’t have the time to scan over everything here. Would you collect as many of the remaining documents as you can and bring them with you? Afterward, follow my trail.
“And how do I collect them?” Grif asked. Then his gaze fell upon several tablets hidden behind the panel. If they were anything like the bestiary they’d assembled to find the place before, then these would likely contain the files Hammer Strike mentioned. Grif shrugged and stored them in his pack. Then he sighed. “What did you get yourself into this time?” He soon returned to the trail. The overall journey this time was faster than it had been. The next stop was only a few doors down. The door opened with a mechanical hiss into what Grif guessed was some kind of surgical bay, judging by the flat gurney-like device in the center and the few metal tools scattered around the room.
His eyes widened as he drew closer and noticed the heavy metal restraints that had been built into the makeshift bed. Several nasty-looking devices, probes, and surgical implements were attached to mechanical arms on the ceiling above.
Grif found his next instruction written next to the gurney. This time, however, while the penmanship was still different, it was notably varying in placement.
Destroy this, Grif. Whatever it takes, I want you to get rid of all of this. I can’t … I just can’t do it myself.
Grif looked around the room. He wasn’t sure what had happened here, but if Hammer Strike wanted it gone, then it would go. Grif closed his eyes and concentrated. The thaumic energy didn’t come as quickly or readily as before, and Grif found himself having to throw his will at the energy to move it as he pulled as much of the aer aspect around him together as possible. He shaped the crystal so that it attached itself to the floor. When he finally gathered enough together for sufficient destruction, he gave the room one last look. The floor glittered yellow as tiny ridges of crystal coated all the surfaces bound to it in a thin film. He exited into the hall and walked a considerable distance from the room after the door shut behind him. Then he willed the crystal to disperse rapidly.
When he returned, it appeared as if the room was unfinished. The floor was scraped down to the cement beneath. The walls were bare, and the metal shone as though it had been cut. Grif nodded in satisfaction, then left the room to follow the breadcrumbs his lord had left behind. This time, the trail led to what could only be described as a cell block. The giant room was dark and dank, with heavy cement walls and floors. The walls were lined with barred cells and narrow walkways that went up a good quarter of a mile.
Skeletons began to crop up the farther he traveled. The main subjects appeared to be Ponies, based on what he could make out from the structure of the remains, but he found a couple of Roos and even some Diamond Dogs as he walked. They sat in various poses. Some lay against the walls of their cells staring out. Some leaned on their bars as if they had been struggling. More than a few times, Grif saw a skull and spinal column hung by a roughbound hair rope as the rest of the bones lay scattered beneath.
After what seemed like an eternity, Grif found himself entering the higher security cell blocks. He ascended several flights of stairs on all fours. He would have flown, but he needed to follow the trail, and there was the matter of potential security defenses if he was identified as a Gryphon invader. A line of five cells made entirely of heavy gauge metal waited for him at the top. The trail ended in front of the final cell.
You are free to look within, Grif, but I will warn you now. This is the answer to the question you’ve asked yourself.
The symbol seemed to pulse with archaic power and pushed willpower into Grif. Grif turned away from the cell, even as he began forming the crystal. As he looked to the exit, he found one last message. ‘Help me’ written in several fashions and styles and every font Grif could think of. Grif tossed the crystal in the cell. As he left, he felt a strange sensation over his body. He felt lighter as the weight of his pack and his weapons harness vanished. Something hung over his side lightly. Not looking down, Grif leaped off the railing and into the air as he dissolved the crystal and the room behind him ceased to be.
As he flew towards the exit he finally took a moment to look, Clinging tightly to his body was a familiar long coat with blue with gold trim. Though as he wore it, he felt it drinking his power. It was an odd but not unpleasant sensation as the coloring shifted to a deep earthy green, and the gold became silver. He felt a strange sting in the back of his mind before a soft voice seemed to whisper faintly.
Find him.
Vital Spark peered curiously at the crumpled remains of the structure before him. The roof sagged dangerously, and a large chunk of wall had either collapsed or been broken in some way. The building bore three spires, each which held a celestial body: a tarnished sun that had lost many of its tines, a blemished crescent mounted in a crooked smile, and a third spire that had been snapped halfway up. Pensword had reported on the building in passing during his travels in the civilian sector. And given the unique symbolism that had only been found therein, Vital Spark was keen to investigate.
The vastness of the structure was on a scale similar to Notre Dame. The gaping remains of stained glass windows jutted mournfully at the sky like a toothless nag. The doors had long since been eaten away by time, leaving dessicated husks that bent at the slightest touch and imprinted on just about anything that made contact. However, while the exterior of the building had taken a heavy beating, the majority of the interior was surprisingly well preserved.
The room was a vast open space with vaulted ceilings designed to draw the eye toward the rafters and inevitably to the altar on the far end. Row upon row of pews lapped like waves against a shore as Vital Spark passed down the aisle. Beneath each of the larger windows on either side, a small plinth had been laid. Each bore an identical indentation the shape of a small divot. The decayed remains of protective runes could barely be seen on the stone anymore. Twelve plinths in total formed the sides beneath metal rungs and the few tatters that remained of once grand tapestries and banners. Far to the front of the chamber, a set of stairs led up to a great dais, where three altars waited, each carved with a series of symbols and effigies. The left bore the sun in all its shapes and forms. The gold still shone brightly within the white marble. Behind it, the towering form of a mighty six-legged steed reared in the air. His wings were spread wide, and his horn was surrounded by an intricately crafted golden helm that highlighted his broad face. The mighty Sleipnir was unmistakable.
The middle altar was crafted from finely polished obsidian. A golden feather jutted out from the center of the structure, and its tip seemed almost awash in the glassy material in which it had been embedded. Four white inkwells sat at each corner of the altar, and two gold rods laid beneath the quill, the last remnants of some religious document or scripture, no doubt. The mare that stood behind this altar was tall and fair. Her mane was flat, but her eyes were deeply expressive and looked out with a deep and abiding love over the congregation. The etched stencil of an inkwell and quill on her flanks clinched this mare’s identity.
“Lady Faust. We meet again.” Vital bowed his head respectfully, first to the mare’s statue, then to Sleipnir’s.
Lastly, he turned to the third altar. This one was carved out of gray stone and was closest to the gap that had been blown in the wall. Its surface was beveled and peppered with dents and holes, but the gold and tarnished silver that remained intact was enough to reveal the moons and stars that spotted the various reliefs. The edges that formed the frames of the images pulsed with a weak silvery-white light. “Moonstone,” Vital breathed as he brushed the substance reverently. The Alicorn that stood behind this altar was unassuming. Her mane was more ethereal, seeming almost to have been caught in the middle of its lazy waving. The eyes that stared down were meek, timid, and filled with a sense of longing that nearly pulled Vital Spark physically toward them. Her neck was bowed and her wings drooped, as though weighted down with a terrible burden.
“Okay,” Vital said as he pointed to the first two statues. “I know you, and I know you.” Then he looked back at the third. “But who are you?”
Hammer Strike frowned as he shifted Ulkrusher on his back. From what he noticed earlier, the passage was covered in metal shrapnel that would make most forms of cloth a hindrance. Rather than his usual attire, he was equipped with just a sheath for Ulkrusher and a sash for the thaumic relays.
The thaumic energy in the area was so potent that he had difficulty controlling the finer points of his power. He could still use his sight, but anything involving altering or shifting aspects took too much work to keep stable that he could potentially drain himself before they could move through the tunnels.
He didn’t know the shape that the tunnels were in deeper into the labs where the center point of thaumic energy was, and deemed it better to refrain from using his power, which led to him having to leave his coat behind.
He disliked the fact, but rather than have it torn severely by metal, he decided it would be best to keep it safe. The only thing he truly worried about was the fact that he placed his cravat, and the primal, within his coat. So, the most dangerous thing he carried on him now held something equally as devastating.
Daring strode out of the shadows bearing her usual equipment and a set of daggers that slid between the pouches of her tool belt. A dim light shone from the relays to grant enough sight in the dark to navigate their route. A piece of chalk held in Daring’s wing provided the intent of tracking their progress with an old miner’s trick. “All right, I’m ready to go.”
“All right,” Hammer Strike replied as he took the lead. “To quickly note, there are other reasons for why I chose to investigate this location. Since these are bound to come up, I figured I’d at least tell you.”
“Ancient devices that could prove highly advanced and possibly have vastly negative consequences for the world if they fall into the wrong hooves?” she guessed.
“Not quite.” Hammer Strike frowned as he thought of how to explain the situation. “To put it simply, there is a field of power here similar to what I know and use, and it’s coated the entire island, drowning it and making it impossible to do certain things. This is not something for the world to know, and I can’t figure out why it’s here.”
“And you’re hoping to find either the source of this power or some record that will explain its origin?”
“In a way.” Hammer Strike squinted as the building came into view. “Hopefully, I can ‘dispel’ it as well, but at the very least I will know what happened here.”
“Then let’s get to it.”
As the two walked toward the research wing, several devices and screens suddenly flickered to life around them. A series of lights followed suit, pushing the shadows around them back.
“Looks like Grif accomplished his task,” Hammer Strike commented as he walked into the building.
A small reception area greeted them that led to a collapsed tunnel. Rather than the usual layout with a receptionist’s desk, they found empty space, save for a sealed chamber in the corner that sheltered a smooth curved desk. A single heavily reinforced door divided it from the entrance, as though it were part of a different segment of the building.
“Well that’s strange,” Daring said as she peered through the windows at the desk. “Why would they keep a desk sealed off like that?”
“Safety reasons?” Hammer Strike shrugged as he approached the cave-in. After looking over the rubble, he shoved a few larger stones and metal fragments aside to reveal a small passage against the side of the tunnel, though several segments of rebar and other pieces of scrap metal jutted out hazardously. “Good thing you don’t mind a few scratches,” he commented as he pushed forward.
“I’ve been in tighter spots before,” Daring agreed as she followed behind him. “So, felt anything else yet?”
“We’ve got a ways to go before we find the center of this.” Hammer Strike sighed as the tunnel opened up once more. Thankfully, with Grif restoring the power, the hall was lit by several beams overhead. Looking back at his equipment, he noticed several cuts across the leather of his sheath.
“Then I guess we’d better keep going,” Daring said. “Want me to scout ahead?”
Hammer Strike shook his head. “Follow behind me. I’ll be mostly focused on finding the source. Gives you more freedom to search around while I track it down, rather than just tagging along with nothing for it.”
“I’ll focus on keeping a map, then.” She reached into a pouch and quickly scrawled a symbol on the wall. “And just in case we get lost.”
Hammer Strike nodded as he took the lead. The structural integrity of the interior appeared to be patchwork in nature. Several segments had collapsed while others remained in almost pristine condition.
“Well, that’s random,” Daring noted. “What do you think happened here?”
“We’re steadily heading underground, so perhaps some severe impacts happened topside.” Hammer Strike hummed. “Given the intensity of the energy, I believe we’re getting close. Keep an eye out for anything that seems abnormal.”
“Like magical field abnormal, ancient puzzle abnormal, mystical artifact abnormal, or highly advanced technology that I don’t have the first clue about abnormal?”
“Anything that seems drastically different from what you’ve seen on the way down here.”
“I can do that.”
It took half an hour of searching, but eventually Hammer Strike was able to determine the center of the spike in thaumic energy. After shoving open a pair of sliding metal doors, he was greeted with a large open room. Counters lined the walls, all of them empty. A multitude of crystals stood in a circle around the center of the room. After a quick scan, he was able to determine that the crystals were thaumic in nature, the aspects being a mixture of common and uncommon materials. Air, earth, water, fire, order, and chaos. It took him several seconds before he finally realized what he was standing near.
“They were trying to make it,” he muttered to himself, subconsciously reaching for his chest, where his cravat once was.
“Did you say something, Hammer Strike?” Daring asked from her place at the doorway. “And what’s this, some sort of spell circle?”
“Partially,” Hammer Strike replied as he took a step into the room. “To most, it is magic, while in actuality, it’s more of a science.” He stepped forward cautiously. “To put it simply, they—”
His voice trailed off as his eyes locked onto a point in the center of the circle. Daring looked to the lord, then back at the circle again. “Hammer Strike, are you all—?” Her voice trailed off as the air was suddenly sucked out of her lungs. Were it not for her swift reflexes, she would have completely lost her footing. Her hindquarters waved behind her as she clung to the door frame against an overwhelming force that pulled her back. She lowered her neck to peer beneath and see the source of the trap. It took a few seconds before she finally saw it, or rather its effects on the environment. The very air seemed to waver, almost like a mirage, as dust, dirt, and loose debris were pulled into the room and through a rippling black sphere no larger than a couple of centimeters. A corona of light swirled around it as it sucked hungrily at the room and its denizens.
Hammer Strike had taken hold of one of the desk doors after they had swung open. Despite his strength, the rift was pulling him with enough force that he had to ensure his grip to avoid being pulled in. However, while the desk in question may have been bolted and held by powerful magics reinvigorated through the channels from the city’s energy core, the hinges on the door were not. The old metal creaked and groaned under the onslaught of pressure and the Earth Pony’s weight. It shrieked, it cried, it groaned, and ultimately the metal rent, leaving only the lower hinge to keep Hammer Strike from imminent destruction.
“Hammer Strike!” Daring cried helplessly. “Hang on!” She reached a hoof out instinctively before she could stop herself. A chunk of stone from the hall did the rest. Before she knew it, the doorway was shrinking before her, and she had no way of stopping, despite her struggles to flap against the pull.
Before she could ‘fall’ too far, Hammer Strike reached out and took hold of her hoof. His jaw and neck strained as he held himself by the counter door with one hoof and held her body with the other. He groaned. “You know, if I didn’t know any better, I’d ask if you gained weight,” he called out.
“Hah. Real funny. Now how about you stop whining and start using that legendary strength I’ve heard so much about?” Daring shot back with her usual bravado.
“Ex Divinia etiam, none of my secrets get by you all.” Hammer Strike huffed as he looked toward the door once more. “If you think you can manage it, I can throw you back up, and you can at least stand on the wall inside the hall.”
“What about you?”
“I’ll have to think on that part later,” Hammer Strike replied before growling to himself. “Daring, I’d love to discuss this more, but even with my ‘legendary strength,’ holding myself and you up in a gravitational field like this is very difficult. Ready yourself!”
Daring nodded and her body tensed. “Let’s do this!”
Hammer Strike took a breath as he swung Daring back a little before straining to throw her toward the door. He took as much effort as he could spare to throw her, resulting in her barely getting past the door frame, but it was enough for her to land topside and get a better anchor. However, the counter door he was relying on let out a sickening crack as the second joint broke free. He barely had time to register it before his world went black.
As Hammer Strike passed through the rift, it collapsed on itself. Daring fell to the floor as the gravitational force dissipated as quickly as it had appeared. She rose shakily to her hooves and gulped heavily. “Grif and Rarity are going to kill me.”
Extended Holiday Chapter 163: Within These Dreary Walls
The council chamber was calm and quiet as Circlet went about her duties preparing to compile the next findings into the archaeological catalogue. The majority of the crew were busy running maintenance and preparing the next meal for the adventuring party. It wouldn’t be long before the usuals began to arrive.
Vital Spark entered first, levitating a sheaf of parchments behind him. “Hello, Caring,” he greeted the engineer. Then he settled into his chair and lowered the report onto the table. “How are things?”
“Everything is fine,” Caring responded.
“So, no unusual activity to report from the city.” He smiled. “Good.”
“I did pick up several flares of energy from within the city, but nothing seemed dangerous.”
“So, more machines waking up?”
“Likely.”
“Got an ETA on the rest of the guys?”
“Not at this moment, though Pensword should be arriving shortly, I imagine.”
“Maybe adjust your time clocks, because we are here, unless you meant arriving to the room,” Pensword teased as he entered. Lost Scribe followed close behind scrawling with a levitating pen as he trotted in to finish last minute notes.
“Somebody looks excited,” Vital returned with a warm smile. “I assume your venture into civilization was a profitable one?”
Lost Scribe smiled as he looked to Pensword. “Why don’t you tell them? You look like a foal on Hearth's Warming Eve.”
Pensword laughed, “We found a Library, and we think we found about fifty books that are still active out of a catalog of what we estimate to have been around ten thousand. It looks like it was their central library. Everything was copied from that location to be disseminated to the public. At least that’s the working theory at the moment. We also found what we think are numerals of some sort carved into a portion of the ceiling. A series of stone blocks and emblems on the floor imply it may have been a play area for foals.”
“Not bad.” Vital nodded his approval. “I found evidence of a third deity in my investigation. Whoever she is, she’s clearly associated with the moon.”
“She?” Rarity asked as she strode into the chamber. “Vital Spark. I do hope you haven’t been cheating on your wife.”
Vital chuckled at the jibe. “Certainly not. Though Trixie has told me she doesn’t mind if I find another mare who catches my eye, so long as I don’t let myself fall out of love with her.”
“He really has grown up, hasn’t he?” Rarity asked of Pensword with a hint of motherly pride.
“I know, I’m going to have to keep an eye out for any single mares to send Trixie’s way. Maybe she’ll find a fit for Vital before Vital finds one.”
“Let’s not be hasty here,” Vital said with a smirk. “We only just got married, after all.”
“Oh? And to Rarity and Rainbow, one day I was very… standoffish from Moonbeam, the next day I was in her intimate space and leaning against her like a stallion with his Mare. Time is relative.”
“Circlet, prepare for an emergency trip back to Equestria,” Grif’s voice filtered tersely as he entered the room.
Pensword wordlessly moved to a station as he pulled up information around the outside of the ship. His body language spoke volumes as his wings tensed and his jaw clenched tightly shut.
“Emergency trip? Grif, what happened?” Vital asked. “And what’s with the new getup?”
The ship’s circuits had already begun to hum as the Gantrithor’s core engaged.
Rarity’s voice was far softer as she looked at the green and silver garment that had settled on the Gryphon’s shoulders and forelegs. “Grif, why are you wearing Hammer Strike’s coat?”
“Rarity, you probably know by now. This coat’s intrinsically tied to Hammer Strike. If he were anywhere on Equis at this point in time, it would find him. If he were dead, it would probably have lost its power. It came to me. That means Hammer Strike’s alive. He’s … just not here,” Grif noted. “Has anybody seen Daring?”
“Last I knew, she was with Hammer Strike on that expedition,” Vital noted. “Is she not back yet?”
“Wouldn’t know. Just got back,” Grif said as he worked his instruments. “But we need her.”
“Can the Gantrithor’s instruments lock onto her or will we need a locator spell?”
“This isn’t Star Trek.” Grif shook his head. “Best we could do is pinpoint life signs, not tell whose they are.”
“We’ll need to issue a total recall regardless, then, won’t we? If this really is an emergency evacuation you’re talking about, I mean.”
“What’s this I hear about an evacuation?” Daring strode tiredly through the door. Her mane, ears, and wings drooped as she smiled weakly at the gathered party.
“Why, Daring, you look positively dreadful!” Rarity exclaimed. “Sit down, before you collapse.”
Daring slouched into the chair and dropped her forelegs and head onto the table. “I’m gonna take a wild guess that you already know about Hammer Strike,” she said without looking up.
Grif tapped the coat. “I had an inclination.”
“And you’re gonna want to hear a full report?”
Pensword looked up from his station. “That would be nice,” he said. “You know, so we actually know what we’re facing.”
Daring sighed as she raised her head. “All right, everypony. Buckle your seatbelts. This story’s going to be a bumpy ride.”
The whole of Mount Canterhorn and all of Canterlot shuddered as a cloudless thunder detonated overhead. An ominous shadow fell over the city as a titanic ship that had not been seen since the Grand Galloping Gala made its presence known. Some Ponies looked on the ship with awe. Others screamed in terror or outrage. The city became a seething mass of activity under the Ganthrithor’s impassive gaze.
“So, uh … are we going to use the intercom or what?” Vital Spark asked as he undid his seatbelt and approached one of the bridge’s windows.
“No point. The princesses know the ship, and it would just waste time,” Grif noted.
“So, what, do we send a letter to them asking them to poof up here, then?”
“No, we fly down there,” Grif said.
“Or we wait for them to fly up here,” Pensword answered as he looked out a portside window toward the castle. Two large dots sandwiched a smaller purple dot, and were flanked by many smaller dots all rising to their level.
“Odd that Luna would be at the castle. I would’ve thought she’d return to Ys by now,” Vital noted.
“She did mention she was going to stay in Canterlot until we returned, so we could give the report to both of them, instead of us doing multiple debriefings.”
“Huh. I don’t remember that.” Vital shrugged. “Then again, I may not have been there for that part of things. I am the errand boy, after all.” The specks had grown into discernible figures now. “Huh. They’re really winging it, aren’t they? Do we need to provide some sort of welcoming committee or something or just let them land and come to the bridge?”
“Just tell them to get in here,” Grif said.
“Already done,” Caring noted clinically. I have a path set to guide them as soon as they land.”
Celestia and Luna were swift to enter, though their pace was forcibly measured, and their expressions were closely guarded. Twilight practically vibrated with excitement and curiosity that she struggled valiantly to hold back.
“Grif,” Celestia greeted. “We assume there’s a reason for your sudden arrival over the city. Did everything go well in your search?”
“We found it. That’s probably half the problem,” Grif responded.
“Problem?”
“Let’s not mince words,” Vital said. “Hammer Strike is gone again, only this time it seems he got sucked into the equivalent of a black hole.”
“A black hole?” Luna asked.
“An event horizon known to occur in the dark depths of space. Think of it like a giant vacuum cleaner. Its gravitational pull is so strong that it even devours light itself.”
“Devour?”
“Relax, Celestia. You’re not in danger, and neither is the sun or Equestria. According to Daring, it dissipated as soon as the magic or whatever it was that pulled him away got him.”
“Vital’s also using an inefficient description,” Grif noted. “We have proof Hammer Strike’s alive, so it couldn’t have been a black hole.”
“I did say it was the essential equivalent of one, not that it was an actual one,” Vital noted.
“Point being,” Daring interrupted, “that he’s gone now, and we’re not sure where or when he may have gone to.”
Twilight groaned. “Again?”
“It is sort of his thing,” Vital noted.
Pensword looked to the group. “So, Library research time to try and find when he might have ended up? We can check the war records from the archives and legends, maybe try tracking him down that way?”
“There have to be loads of references to him there, though. How will we be able to tell which one is our current Hammer Strike?” Vital asked.
“Maybe the coat will have a clue?” Pensword suggested. “Otherwise, we’ll be cataloging every myth trying to figure things out.” He threw his wings up into the air and sighed. “After all, I doubt this is the Daddy timeline. It doesn’t seem right.”
“There is one option,” Grif noted with a sigh.
“Again?” Vital asked.
“What’s is it?” Pensword asked.
“I would assume a certain crazy stallion in a blue box,” Vital noted. “Unless Grif was considering some other means.”
Grif shook his head.
“Well, knowing what we do of the matter, it seems logical that we should be patient, then,” Celestia noted. “If memory serves, the TARDIS tends to arrive when it is needed most. Surely, that will also be the case now.” She looked calmly back at her guard. “Would you and the others kindly return to the castle? Luna, Twilight, and I will be staying on the Gantrithor for now. We’ll call for you, should the need arise.”
“But, your highness—”
“That will be all, Hailmary.”
The mare sighed in acknowledgement of her defeat. “As you wish.” It didn’t take long for her to leave the bridge. A trail of armored Pegasi soon shrank to tiny specks as they descended to the castle again.
Almost on cue, the famous groaning began to echo as a familiar blue shape faded into existence on the deck of the Gantrithor. By the time it had materialized, everyone had already left the bridge as a slightly angry brown stallion made his way toward them.
“All right, where is he? What's he done?” the Doctor demanded with a scowl.
Pensword looked to the Doctor. “We are trying to figure that out fully, actually. He got sucked into a wormhole that acted like a black hole.”
“Those are two completely different things,” the Doctor said abrasively.
Pensword was trying not to lose his own temper. “I know that. But last I checked, wormholes don’t suck things into their maw. Black holes do. It also shut off the moment Hammer Strike was, well, eaten is a very crude way of describing it, but I’m no astrophysicist.”
“In short, like usual, Hammer Strike has done nothing, and still got pulled into some sort of time shenanigans. Or at least we assume so,” Vital said. “By the way, Doctor, which part of your timeline are we interacting with? It’s hard to keep track.”
“Timeline?” Twilight asked.
“Twilight, you’re a princess, I’m pretty sure you’ve already been told about this particular state secret. And if you haven’t, then Celestia and Luna can explain it to you later,” Vital said.
“That’s not important right now,” the Doctor cut in. “Are you aware there is an entire two thousand years in history that I can’t reach? One minute, it was fine, and suddenly it’s all fixed time!”
Pensword blinked rapidly. “Y-you’re saying that Hammer Strike…. But-but how? He’s mortal. There’s no way he could stretch for a whole two thousand years.” He shook his head. “Um … does this mean we need to go to the start of that block to pick Hammer Strike up?”
“Come with me,” the Doctor growled, stomping toward the TARDIS.
“This wouldn’t happen to have anything to do with potentially interrupting a family outing, would it?” Vital asked as he drew near the vessel.
“Just … come.” The doctor sighed between words.
“Does that include the Princesses?” Pensword asked as he picked up his hooves and started to follow the Doctor.
“We can’t follow you for this one, Pensword.” Celestia smiled kindly. “We have a kingdom to run, and we have no idea when the TARDIS will drop you off.”
“Then I’ll go,” Twilight said. “My part of the kingdom is significantly smaller, and already governs itself for the most part. Besides, I’ve been meaning to examine this technology ever since Rarity told me about it.”
“Fine, keep close. And if we stop anywhere, stay quiet, okay?” Grif turned to Celestia. “Send a note to Unity for us. Keep Clover and the rest up to date.”
“You have our word,” Celestia promised.
With a nod, Grif entered the TARDIS, following closely behind Twilight. The doors snapped shut behind them almost instantly.
A familiar gray mare with a blond mane and crossed eyes smiled and waved from the control console. “Oh, hello. Are we going on an adventure to save Equestria, Doctor?”
“Can’t very well save the day if we can’t get to the problem, dearest,” the Doctor commented as he started messing with knobs and buttons and such. “So, I’ve set the TARDIS to track Hammer Strike through time. What events it can show will appear on….” He grabbed a screen and slid it over. “This screen. Meanwhile, I'm going to attempt to get us to the absolute end of the period of fixed time.”
“Is it always going to remain fixed to you, then, even when we get Hammer Strike back?” Vital queried.
“I don’t know,” the Doctor admitted.
“Then let’s find out!” Derpy said cheerfully as she jutted a hoof outward. “Forward, to adventure!” Then she became aware of the big blue button she’d just pushed. “Um, ... oops?”
When the counter that Hammer Strike was holding broke, there was only a brief moment of darkness that followed before he found himself tumbling backwards within the same room. It took him a second to correct himself before landing on his hooves near the back end.
While the structure was the same, several things were missing, including the crystals and markings all over the place. Instead, in their place was a number of Alicorns equipped in a set of lab coats with miscellaneous additions, and a few larger Alicorns near the doors. He couldn’t fully describe what they were wearing. The closest he could get would be some form of protective gear.
“Well, that concludes this test, and it was a clear failure,” one of the Alicorns in a lab coat commented as he turned toward the others.
“Perhaps we moved the containment cells over to this wing in the future?” another questioned aloud as his horn began to glow. A data tablet hovered behind.
“It’s possible, but it doesn’t explain why this one is armed with a weapon.” A third directed their attention to Hammer Strike, who in turn stood upright.
“Great,” Hammer Strike muttered. “What did I get pulled into this time?”
“Guards, would you quickly deal with it before it goes and destroys some of our equipment?”
Several Alicorns lit their horns and Hammer Strike felt magic envelop him as they attempted to hold him with telekinesis. They began walking forward moments before Hammer Strike exerted his will and broke their bonds. The guards moved in and attempted to hold him again. This time, Hammer Strike lashed out with Ulkrusher. The war hammer made a satisfying crunch as it connected with an Alicorn’s skull and the bone gave way. Even as the guard fell, Hammer Strike lashed out at another while someone called for more guards. Hammer Strike downed two more Alicorns before he fell in a massive dogpile of Alicorn guards as they all rushed him at once. There was a sudden blow to the back of his skull and the world began to swim.
Though Hammer Strike couldn’t move and was steadily finding his eyes hard to keep open, he could hear the scientists talk among themselves.
“What happened?”
“I don’t know; it somehow managed to harm the guard, through his armor even!”
Hammer Strike felt a weight shift near him.
“Not just that; he’s dead. How in tartarus did it manage to break through the armor, and his damn skull?”
“Strip it of that hammer and place it in medium containment. I want to run tests on it later.”
“Yes sir.”
Hammer Strike couldn’t keep himself active as the world went black.
Hammer Strike groaned as he came to. His neck cracked loudly as he pulled himself off the metallic floor. There was a noticeable lack of weight on him, and a quick check revealed that they had stripped him of Ulkrusher and his sheath for it. He could still feel it, but no matter how much he focused on Ulkrusher, he couldn’t bring it to him in any shape or form.
A simple scan of his new surroundings revealed a decent sized room covered in several plates of some darker metal. More panels overhead served as light fixtures, though bars crossed over them as well. Apart from that, there was a door near the back end of the room with a small window for observations, or so he assumed.
“They got another one, huh?” a voice asked.
Hammer Strike’s stance dropped as he turned toward the voice. In the other corner of the room was an Earth Pony stallion like himself. His fur and eyes were grey, while his mane was pitch black. Size-wise, he was quite thin, though just above being too thin. After a moment, he straightened himself out, determining that whoever it was didn’t appear at this moment to be too threatening compared to the Alicorns.
“Welcome to hell,” the pony said. “The name’s Distant Sight.”
“Welcoming,” Hammer Strike replied as he placed a hoof to the back of his head. “Ex divinia etiam, they hit hard.”
“You talked like they do,” Distant sight said warily.
“Just a phrase in a different language,” Hammer Strike replied. “Though I doubt it’s theirs. I’m Hammer Strike.”
“If they hit you, you must have given them some trouble.” Distant chuckled.
“Pretty sure I felt their skulls crack, so probably a little more than just trouble.”
“Don’t see how you’d do that. You must be really strong if you could even manage to hurt them.” Distant was understandably not fully believing the claim. “You’d have to have some of that fancy Gryphon armor to hurt them.”
Hammer Strike shrugged. “Got plenty of strength, but I also had my weapon as well, which they put somewhere nearby.”
“Likely. Can’t have us lab rats armed, can they?”
“So, that’s what we are.” Hammer Strike continued to scan the room, checking specific sections of it where he could see what appeared to be cameras of some kind. “Brought me here through a rift of some kind, so it was hard to tell.”
“Well, at least I'm in here with a fellow Earther,” Distant said.
Hammer Strike hummed for a moment as he realized just what era he was in. “True. Could have been worse.”
“You a borderer?” Distant asked. “I’ve never seen one as tall as you before, even among the farm hands.”
Hammer Strike frowned to himself. “Kinda. I couldn’t tell you exactly, to be honest. I was mostly on my own.”
“Real gutsy being alone these days, even without these things kidnapping you.”
Hammer Strike shrugged. “Did it for most of my time there.”
“Well, here’s hoping to the three ancients we live long enough to get outta here.”
“Something tells me they aren’t the merciful kind.”
“The ancients or our jailors?”
“Jailors,” Hammer Strike replied simply.
“You have no idea.” Distant sighed. “But I guess you will soon enough.”
Hammer Strike hummed to himself as he scanned the door. He kept his thaumic energy low enough that there were no visible sign of him scanning it. The materials of the door and metal around them was some compound that he had never seen before, a mixture of metals and some crystal-like substance, from what he could see of the aspects. It would take some time for him to completely figure out the compound of the door before he could look towards any form of movement.
That, and perhaps a way to disable the cameras.
“You’re not gonna find a way out. Only time you leave is when they want you for something. And trust me, you don’t want them to want you,” Distant said.
“About as bad as torture by a Gryphon?” Hammer Strike questioned as he continued to scan the door.
Distant swore. “You were tortured by Gryphons and lived to talk about it?”
“Scars came from somewhere, and I can promise you it wasn’t anything the Unicorns or Pegasai could manage,” Hammer Strike replied as he gestured to his torso.
“I’d keep quiet about that, if I were you. Gryphons and these people don’t get on that well. They get word you survived against them, you’re basically signing your death warrant.”
“I figured I would have signed it already by killing three guards.”
“You sure you’re not pulling my leg?”
Hammer Strike held up his hoof as he walked over to the door. After a second, he placed his hoof on it and slowly dragged it toward the center. “They’ll most certainly give me hell for this.”
“Didn’t I tell you we were already in—?”
Hammer Strike reared his hoof back before thrusting it at the door. A loud clang and ring of metal sounded throughout the room at the force that had been brought to bear. After a moment, he removed his hoof from the door to reveal a large dent in the alloy. Hammer Strike shook his hoof for a moment before rubbing it against his chest. “That’s not a hollow door. As it turns out, they use solid slabs for that. Couldn’t tell for sure in the first place.”
Distant looked on with his mouth hanging open.
“I won’t go quietly,” Hammer Strike continued. “That, I can promise.”
“... Okay, is it just me, or does this look like a Gladiator scenario?” Vital asked as he tore his gaze from the monitor.
“Not likely,” Grif growled.
“And this is supposed to stretch for two thousand years?” Vital asked the Doctor.
“Doubtful.” the Doctor shook his head. “That’s just the start.” As he spoke, Grif headed for one of the many room exits. “Where are you going?”
“To see if this place has a gym or a training hall,” Grif answered. The coat seemed to billow a bit as he moved. Metallic plates built at the shoulders to form pauldrons.
“Well, that’s new,” Vital said nervously.
“The coat is agitated,” Pensword whispered. “And Grif is agitated. You don’t want to make them mad.”
Vital gulped and nodded. “Agreed.”
Two strong hooves turned the equines around. “All right, you two. You both need to let go of some stress.” Two aprons were shoved into their hooves. “Which means you’re coming to bake with me. Muffins are just what we need right now. And I’m sure Hammer Strike will enjoy them, too, once we pick him up.”
“But—”
“No buts! Less talking, more walking.” Vital Spark and Pensword’s eyes both widened significantly as they experienced Derpy’s strength firsthoof for the first time.
“Pensword?” Vital asked.
“Yeah?”
“Remind me never to upset Derpy.”
Pensword nodded and gulped. “Duly noted.”
Meanwhile, Twilight was busy peeking into the wiring beneath the TARDIS’ main console. “This place is amazing! And all of this is designed to compress space while engaging in a form of transportation akin to teleportation! And I thought my supercomputer was advanced!”
“Be careful, Twilight, she can get kinda….” There was the sound of a Pony getting electrocuted before getting forcibly ejected as a panel slammed angrily. “Testy with people poking around inside her.”
A familiar pink party Pony bounced around dancing with a strange mare with a blue-gray coat and a brown mane that was just as puffed. The ghosts of their laughter faded as Twilight shook her head.
“Twilight, dear, I know part of this is an effort to distract me, but you really must be more cautious. From what Grif has told me, the TARDIS is a living being, albeit one that inhabits a machine. What you’re doing equates to tearing one of my dresses apart to see how I made it in the first place while it’s still on a customer who just purchased it.”
“You mean like a golem?”
“A highly advanced, fully sapient golem who doesn’t like her matrices to be touched by unfamiliar hooves,” the Doctor said testily.
“So, you’re saying it’d be willing to let me look if I were recognized as an administrator or engineer?”
A tiny extendable arm stretched out from the console bearing a glove with a finger perched precariously over an air horn. The Doctor stiffened.
“Twilight, if you don’t want to be locked in the infirmary, step away from the console, slowly.”
“Why would I get locked in the infirmary? It’s just an air horn.”
He planted both hooves firmly in his ears. “Timelord technology, Miss Sparkle. I believe Miss Belle, sorry, force of habit, Mrs. Strike told you about being smaller on the outside before. What makes you think we can only apply it to our ships?”
Rarity had already carefully edged away from the radius and covered her ears with a set of ear muffs she’d retrieved from a toolbox nearby. “Twilight, dear, I think you should listen to the Doctor.”
Twilight stared in disbelief at the console. “It wouldn’t.” Then she looked nervously down her nose at the blowhorn. “Would it?”
“For Faust’s sake, Twilight, back off and apologize!” the Doctor urged.
“All right, all right, I’m sorry!” Twilight’s wings drew up in a protective cocoon around her as her horn flared and a thin shield wall pulsed into existence between her and the air horn.
A series of beeps sounded from the control panel and the arm retracted, followed by a low ominous boop.
The Doctor sighed in relief. “I assume that won’t need translating?”
Twilights ears drooped. “Then can I at least look at something that’s not a part of the ship?” she begged.
“Oh, sure, sure,” The Doctor said agreeably as he pulled her to one of the monitors and pointed to Hammer Strike’s cell. “There you go. You’re looking at something that’s not part of the TARDIS. Now don’t. Touch. Anything.”
As it turns out, the TARDIS did have a training area, or at least a decently sized room with space for practice. Grif ran through various forms and series of movements as he did what he could to distract himself from the feeling of anger at being unable to do anything. The coat was putting him off a bit. It was unusually heavy. Then again, he had no basis for it’s actual weight.
He considered the coat and what he’d found out about it since his acquisition. Equis had a generally accepted scale for magic items. To the public, this scale started at minor enchanted items and ended with artifacts. However, it was known in some circles there were two levels above artifacts: super tier artifacts and divine items.
Grif had found this out in his research on Vigilance and Vengeance, as the twin blades qualified as a super tier artifact. The coat, it seemed, was another super tier artifact, though its powers were still expanding, and it could very well become a divine item in time.
The coat had been made with great care and love, and that had instilled it with a core of sorts from Rarity’s generosity. From that point, it had been continuously exposed to both thaumic and magical energies coming from Hammer Strike’s body. At some point, these energies had grasped onto the core and began to instill enchantments into the artifact’s very thread. Later, it had tasted some of Pinkie’s own energy, which the coat had explained to Grif had their own strange flavor not like thaumic energy or magic. With every exposure, the coat had grasped something new. Over time, it had grasped more from Hammer Strike’s own will power. Normally, its powers would have plateaued, but instead the constant energy had kept it rising.
Elemental control had been one of its first gains. It became sturdier and gained access to a pocket dimension. From absorbing so much of the energy Hammer Strike created while forging, the coat had inherited his crafting skill and gained powers in transmutation, mending, and modification. It had drunk heartily from Ulkrusher. When Hammer Strike had set it down on the island, it had already been on the verge of developing sentience. When it found Grif, it had been pushed over the edge by the dormant personas within Vigilance and Vengeance. Having drunk heavily of Grif’s own power and thaumic field, the coat was adapting still more abilities. Shingled armor had formed in strategic places along the body, and weapon sheathes had been created within the coat itself. Grif’s wind and Hammer Strike’s fire had gifted the firestorm spell to the coat.
Truly, the coat was adapting at a frightening pace. Where it would end up could be terrifying. Its intelligence too seemed to enhance by the hour.
Grif’s pack, which the coat had taken in when it had attached to him, would be returned to him, only the expansion charm would be evolved into a legitimate bag of holding, with it’s own hammer space. So, Grif chuckled as he’d at least be walking away with something. He stopped his series to look at his hands. Metal webbing had actually grown around his talons from the coat, forming metallic claw covers.
Grif stared at his hands curiously for several seconds before he sheathed his blades and made for the door. It was time to move things forward.
“So, Derpy, when did you learn how to bake, anyway?” Vital Spark asked as the TARDIS’ oven warmed to start heating the muffin batter. It appeared the ship and the mare had come to an understanding about her baking time and the necessity of the slow way, rather than instantaneous gratification. Given how Derpy could get when she really got upset, he shuddered to think what the mare might have unleashed upon the ship, had it decided to go against her wishes in the kitchen.
“The Cakes, actually. They were very nice. I worked with them for a little while before Pinkie Pie came to town. That’s where I mastered the art of muffin baking. My daddy had to work long hours to pay for our house after mamma died, so I asked the Cakes to teach me to cook, so I could make something for him when he got home.”
“And so the legendary muffin mare was born.”
“Aw, shucks.” Derpy blushed. “Really, I’m not the best at cooking. I burnt my first twenty dishes when I started out. Now I do enough to take care of our family. Dinky’s so much better at it than I am. She always tells me cooking is a science, so I guess it just comes naturally to her.”
“Your daughter is exceptionally intelligent,” Pensword agreed.
“I’m sure she’ll help a lot of people one day,” Derpy said.
“Any idea when that’s going to happen?”
Derpy shrugged, then smiled. “No, but whatever is going to happen will when it does. I can wait as long as it takes.”
“And that kindly nature is why we love you so much, Derpy,” Vital said.
“Someone is angling for another muffin,” Pensword said with a smirk.
Vital smiled. “Pensword, I have a whisk, and I’m not afraid to use it,” he warned. “Let’s not start a food war in the kitchen, shall we?”
“It wouldn’t be the first one.” Derpy sighed. “I still don’t know what went wrong with those cookies, but the milk and veggies took care of them. Now they all have villages of their own on another world.” She shuddered. “The eggplant wizards were the worst.”
Vital gaped. “Pensword, is she talking about…?”
“Vital Spark, let’s leave sleeping Ponies lie,” Pensword said, then smirked. “Though I will say one last thing. If anyone goes up against those magicians, well, I pity the fool.”
Several Alicorns worked independently in the medium sized circular laboratory that had been allocated for anomaly thirty eight, as it had been officially designated. The anomaly had been pulled off the being who was now labeled as experimental subject batch eight, number twenty.
The anomaly was a warhammer of clearly magical ability. Though what magic that was, the Alicorns still had not been able to determine. The weapon had been sheathed in not only layers of runic magic of all conceivable equations, but overlaid to a ridiculous amount with metals and alloys of neary unfathomable number. Some of the layers had intermingled to create yet new alloys in between layers, and despite all this, the hammer seemed to remain an unyielding whole.
While subject twenty had been able to wield it, they had yet to find an Alicorn able to lift it for any period of time, as the weapon seemed to do anything from expelling an anti-magic field when they attempted telekinesis to wreathing itself in fire, thunder, ice, freezing flame, freezing thunder, and substances that could only be categorized as frozen fire and/or electricity. Attempts to wield the weapon had resulted in severe injuries. Attempts to remove a small chunk for close analysis had cost lab equipment. The very containment field that held it needed constant renewal, as it had attempted to bash its way out no less than seventy times in the last three days.
“In short, Sir, we are, as of yet, unable to get more than base data on it,” one of the scientists explained to his superior. “Furthermore, we have no clue who made it. Or what, perhaps, being the better answer.”
The head scientist raised a curious brow. “That’s a substantial list of security measures for base data. I want our best cryptologists running down those runic formulae. The sooner we have a translation, the sooner we may be able to gain a hoofhold on this artifact. Or at least a leash.” He stroked his chin. “Yes, this could prove quite useful against those savages….”
“Sir, it is a weapon. Perhaps it would be beneficial to ask….” He gulped. “Andre Factorem?”
The scientist’s superior glared. “While your suggestion is duly noted, such action is … premature. There are other avenues of investigation to attempt first. Let’s not disturb such a dignified member of our society without just cause.”
“But Sir, we keep coming to dead ends. This isn’t something we’ve encountered before.”
“Which is why it would be best for us to gain a better understanding of it before we bother him. This isn’t up for discussion, Ratio. We can’t expect to fill our elders’ horseshoes if we don’t tackle the challenges that rise.”
Ratio sighed in defeat. “Very well, Sir.” He turned to relay orders to the team. They wouldn’t be pleased. Many of them had been up for several days now.
“And make sure to send an active feed to my personal console,” he added. “I’ll work to tackle it from my end as well.”
“Of course, Sir.”
“Good. And then see about getting a shave. You look terrible.”
Hammer Strike sighed as he thought to himself. Distant Sight was off to the side doing something else. The problem that Hammer Strike faced was that he had nothing to work on, and nothing he could do, so he kept to his mind, thinking of plausible things he could do while in captivity.
“You have anybody waiting for you out there?” Distant Sight asked suddenly.
“No. I’m the last of my family. I was looking for a place when I got caught.”
Hammer Strike’s frown deepened as he continued to think to himself. The silence of the cell left him with just enough to be able to hear outside the cell. Heavy hoofsteps moved down the hall in their general direction. After a few moments, he could hear them stop right before the door. “They’re here.”
Distant almost robotically pressed to the wall as the door opened and several armored Alicorns entered. They all looked at Hammer Strike, and one of them held out a weapon and gestured to the door.
“You know,” Hammer Strike muttered, “it’s almost like clockwork,” he finished as he moved toward the door.
The group never took their eyes off him as they held their weapons out and followed his every step.
Hammer Strike glanced around the containment cells and cages as they directed him to a different segment of the facility. A few markers indicated directions on where to go, but he only just knew the language in text form, so it took him time to translate things.
Time being the one thing the Alicorns gave him little of as they continued to prod and shove him in a direction. It was strange to him, seeing the laboratory in full swing, nothing broken or even slightly worn.
He was led down a hall and into a white laboratory where a metal gourney lay nearby. He was instructed to get in it.
“Clockwork,” Hammer Strike muttered again as he took his place on the gourney.
He was strapped in carefully. The guards gave the restraints several tests before the majority of them filed out of the room. Two stayed by the door, however, as scientists began to enter.
One Alicorn walked into the room in the most nonchalant way Hammer Strike was sure was possible and looked casually at the Earth Pony. “Seems excessive,” he noted in perfect Equish before looking to another scientist. “Is there a reason we have him restrained more than twice the standards require?” He received an answer and his eyes went wide.
“Damn,” he said as he approached Hammer Strike. “You really tore them up good, huh?”
“Uh, sure,” Hammer Strike replied with some confusion. “I mean, I only got a crack at three of you.”
“Still more than most Ponies get.” He laughed. “I’m Dr. Jack Bright. Don’t get used to the face. You’ll probably see a few of them during our time together.”
“Got it.” Hammer Strike wanted to shrug, but kept with just the verbal tone.
“Lucky for you, the first day’s generally the easiest. We’ll be doing some scans, a few light tests, and taking some samples,” he explained.
“Joy.”
“So, are you going to answer truthfully if I ask your basic questions or should I just skip that bit?”
“Depends on what you ask.”
“Name, age, where your from, the usual stuff.”
“Hammer Strike, some hundred to two hundred years old, didn’t really keep count, and not anywhere near here.”
“Fair enough, I suppose. My associates would say we’ll find it eventually, but I have my doubts.” Dr. Bright chuckled. “Is there anything about you we should know?”
“Besides the usual threats and statements that I’d like to make? Not really.”
“Very well. Lets see how long you last.” Dr. Bright said as he signaled one of the scientists to begin.
There was the sound of whirrs and clicking as arms seemed to unfold above Hammer Strike and lower. There was slight discomfort as the tools began their work on him. One or two of the needles bent, but the rest managed to penetrate his hide as they took samples of blood and marrow. Hairs where collected by tiny pincers. Lights of various colors flashed by as he was scanned.
It wasn’t a pleasant experience. Hammer Strike squinted as he thought to himself, but he had suffered worse before. They could harm him, which was in itself an accomplishment, one he did not like the outlook for.
Time seemed to blur as he felt several spells cast upon his being. Some, his field blocked, but others seemed to be strong or nonthreatening enough to be ignored. The scientists looked over the data and spoke in low tones, all except Dr. Bright, who continued to watch his patient. Unlike most of their race, there was neither scorn nor loathing nor anything of the sort on his face.
Just pity.
“His muscle density is off the charts for one of his kind,” one Alicorn noted as he looked over the data.
“I still can’t tell why half our tests malfunctioned,” another complained.
The results had been mixed at best. Several of their more invasive magical tests all out failed while some equipment had registered damage just in the process of doing its job. They had gotten samples, but they were still working out what the confusing DNA strands meant.
Overall, the venture had turned out to be not as successful as hoped, and modifications would need to be made.
Hammer Strike sat within his shared cell, staring at the door as he usually did. He pieced together the aspects in his head, ensured he had it committed to memory, and worked on determining other materials around him for future use.
By now, it had been two weeks since he arrived. By this point, he had numerous new scars covering sections of his body, though they were mostly shallow. The scientists had done at least eight separate checks on him, taking blood, tissue samples, bone marrow. He had started to lose track.
Distant was off to the side, keeping to himself as Hammer Strike seemed preoccupied with his own thoughts.
“They’re coming,” Hammer Strike muttered as he heard the telltale movement.
And just like before, a small squad of guards opened the door, directed their weapons toward him, and afterwards the door, giving a huff of annoyance at him in the process.
Hammer Strike followed directions as per usual, only this time they led him farther into the facility than he’d gone before. They passed by several open testing rooms with other Ponies of varying races all being subjected to different ‘tests,’ as the Alicorns put it.
He frowned as he continued to scan the rooms before they stopped in front of a reinforced door. The head of his current squad walked up to the door before pulling out a small card and placing it against a panel on the side. After a second, the door chirped and opened swiftly. Within was a gurney-like table with significantly more straps than he had seen previously. Above it hovered a tube with several gaps in its sides, indicating segments of it that moved.
Before he could move forward anymore, they forcibly picked him up and held him down on the table. Next came strap after strap as they ensured there was no way he could move an inch.
After a few last checks, the guards exited the room, aside from the usual two who stood at the entrance. After a few moments, Hammer Strike heard the door open once more as a set of hooves walked in and soon rounded to his front. The Alicorn in front of him had no mane to speak of, though he had a thick beard.
“I’ve heard a lot about you, little rock smasher.” The scientist’s grin was unsettling as he levitated a tablet and swiped his hoof over the digital readouts. “Breaking bones, smashing doors. Someone’s been very naughty.”
“What can I say? You’ve got to have something to provide entertainment.”
“I’m sure what we have planned for you today will prove most stimulating, then. Do try to be honest in your reactions. After all, this is for science.” He tapped the tablet and the extension above hummed to life. Its metal shaft separated with a gentle hiss that revealed a multitude of surgical implements ranging from scalpel to laser to clamps and much more.
Hammer Strike tried his best to figure out what was going on above him, but the restraints proved too sturdy for him to budge. The mystery remained until he started to feel a clamp press down on his neck directly below his skull. After a few seconds, he was greeted with intense pain as the back of his neck was cut open near the top of his spine. For the first time since he’d arrived, he was feeling intense pain.
He couldn’t help himself as he started to scream. Pain overtook his normal sense of self.
As swiftly as the pain came, darkness followed, and he blacked out on the table. His moment of silence was ripped from him, however, when he felt himself hit the ground, forcing him back to consciousness. He was back in his cell with Distant Sight. The guards stood by the door flanking the same scientist from the procedure.
“Hmm. It woke ahead of schedule. He really is as resilient as the reports say, isn’t he?”
Hammer Strike snarled as he placed his hooves on the ground and began to force himself upright once more. He felt pain in the back of his head, and what felt like a lump of sorts pressing up under his skin. “What did you do to me?” he growled as he tried to keep his power in check. He didn’t want to give them any information.
“Like with any animal, we simply gave you a leash,” the scientist replied as he glanced to his tablet. “After all, we can’t have any repeat incidents.”
Anger burned in Hammer Strike as he took a step toward the scientist, only for the Alicorn to smirk and press a button on his tablet. It was at that point Hammer Strike felt the lump in the back of his head jolt to life as electricity pumped into his nerves. His body tensed and he gasped before falling to the ground as it cut off.
“It seems to work perfectly.” The scientist smiled as he looked to Hammer Strike. After a brief pause, he turned to the exit. “Be sure to update any other researchers who would like to test subject twenty on the codes to his leash.”
“Yes, Sir.” One of the guards saluted before following the doctor out.
Twilight’s normal purple had darkened to a sickly green as she stared at the screen. “I can’t believe somepony would be so sadistic. Technology is supposed to help Ponies, not … that.” She shuddered, then shook her head mournfully. “How could they do that?” she whispered.
“Too easily,” Pensword said grimly. “Those who feel themselves better than others often do.”
“... How long are they going to keep doing this?” Vital asked, half in disbelief and half in disgust. The barbarity of the neural collar was only too clear.
“They think themselves the highest form of life there is,” the Doctor noted. “If the Timelords encountered something like him, they’d have three goals in mind.”
“And what would they be?”
“Try to understand him. If that was possible, try to recreate him. If it wasn’t, try to destroy him.” The Timelord shrugged.
“I … suspected the latter,” Vital admitted. “It sounds like your council. No offense meant to you,” he cleared his throat, “Lord President.”
“I haven’t been that in a long time.” The doctor shook his head sadly. “Keep in mind, Vital Spark, my creed was mercy. These Alicorns, they’re just like he was.”
“And with time locked, there’s no way to help change that, is there?” Vital sighed heavily. “How many lives?” he said hollowly to himself.
“There is only ever one answer to that question.” The Doctor’s face became hard. “Too many.”
“On that, we can agree. Has the old girl been able to help Grif work off some of his steam?”
“Bits at a time, apparently. I didn’t even know that room existed.”
“I think you’ll find she has a lot more surprises for you.” Vital smiled sadly. “Try to listen to her a little more attentively, if you can, Doctor. There’s a lot I think she wants to tell you.”
“Part of the fun is in the mystery.” The Doctor shot him a smile.
Vital smirked. “Careful, Doctor. You get her upset, and she’s liable to put you on the couch.”
He laughed. “She’d never do that.”
“If you say so, Doctor. Regardless, let’s try to keep this particular snippet between us. I’d rather not see Grif get angrier than he already is.” Vital’s horn lit up and levitated a steaming basket. “Anyway, if you’ll excuse me, I have a delivery to make to a friend. Maybe we can talk again sometime. I enjoy our conversations.”
“See you later,” the Doctor acknowledged as he worked at the console.
Vital tapped his chin thoughtfully as he approached one of the ship’s many sliding doors. “I wonder if she has a muffin button.”
Hammer Strike felt miserable for a change. The recent addition of the leash had led guards to ensure his cooperation at any given turn. It had only been in his body for roughly twenty hours, but it had been used seven times. It was just enough to cause him to be unable to control his movement and ensure he felt a decent amount of pain, but not enough to cause lasting harm, from what he could tell.
For now, he had to be more cooperative until he could figure out a way to resist or remove the chip in the back of his head.
“So, it’s started,” Distant commented.
“So it seems.” Hammer Strike sighed, rubbing the side of his neck. “They give everyone these, or am I just special?”
“They don’t give everyone the same things.” Distant turned his back to Hammer Strike and moved his mane to the side, revealing a series of criss-crossing scars. “But they do it a lot, put things in, take things out. A Lot of them mess with your mind. A few people just straight up die from them.”
“Sounds like fun,” Hammer Strike replied. “I’m sure the guards will put it to great use. Perhaps I can burn it out.”
“You can try.” Distant shrugged. “As far as I know, no one’s been able to damage them, not even the Gryphons.”
“Got to start somewhere.” Hammer Strike shrugged in return. “I’ve got to give them some troubles, perhaps get them to focus on me more than others.”
“Maybe. I just hope you know what you’re doing.” Distant shook his head.
“Well, it’s worked for you so far.”
“You already got their curiosity. And I’m pretty sure you pissed off a few of the guards. Too much attention is dangerous. Last thing I need is a cell mate who I outlive.”
“Don’t have to worry too much about it. I’ve always been too stubborn to die.”
“Stubbornness don’t count much when it comes to these people.”
“If need be, I’ll just hold back less,” Hammer Strike replied with a smirk before directing his attention toward the door.
“You already tried breaking it once. They’re not gonna let you try again.”
“Wasn’t trying to break it.” He frowned. “They’re coming. Sounds like more than normal.”
To avoid more use on the leash at the moment, Hammer Strike moved to the back wall along with Distant Sight.
“Another cell transfer?”
As per usual, the guards entered the cell and scanned the two residents. Unlike the other times, however, the guard pointed to both Hammer Strike and Distant Sight to follow. Hammer Strike frowned as the guards led them through the corridors once more.
After several turns and some hallways, they came across a small checkpoint station. An airlock-like system stood before them. The guards shoved the two of them into the system and the door closed behind them in turn. After a brief moment, a small chime rang through the air as the secondary door opened, bathing the chamber in light.
As Hammer Strike’s eyes adjusted, he was able to see what appeared to be a walled-in segment outside of the facility. There were a decent number of other Ponies all separated into their own groups, mostly by race. Distant Sight seemed familiar with the room as he stepped out into it and gestured for Hammer Strike to follow.
It was warm and bright, but there was one thing that Hammer Strike noticed that broke the whole thing for him. There was no solar energy in the light and warmth that bathed over the area. The more he looked above, the more he began to notice small things, such as the fact that the sky seemed almost perfect, a clear day with next to no clouds.
He frowned to himself as he directed his attention back to the ground. It was at this point that he was able to notice that a good number of Ponies had their attention directed toward him. From what he could gather, it was most likely because he was, from the looks of it, one of the largest Ponies in the room.
“So, he’s the one they’re talking about?” one Pegasus asked, eyeing the newcomer.
“He’s a big one. I’ll grant you that,” a second said as she paused in her wing-ups.
“There’s no way he killed a guard,” the first Pegasus spat. “No way a mud Pony could do what we haven’t been able to.”
“Those scars say otherwise, Cap. Look at those eyes. He’s not scared, he’s calculating. That Pony’s seen battle.”
“How many mud Ponies do you know who have actually been good in a fight?” the Pegasus challenged.
“How many mud Ponies do you know who’ve got claw and tooth marks all over their body?”
“I’ll believe it when I see it.” He spat again.
The soldier bounced into the air and flapped her wings. “Gonna challenge him, then?”
“You know the rules. We don’t go near the mud Ponies or the hornheads and they leave us alone.”
“So, what’re you gonna do, badmouth him all day or recon?”
“Send somebody out, but don’t let them get caught. Last thing we need is hornheads poking around.”
The soldier saluted. “Yes, Sir.”
Over in another section of the clearing, the Earth Ponies were busy tending the soil and breaking open a pile of rocks.
“Not ta be a gossip, mind ye, but isn’t that there the Pony what’s been causing a stir?” a younger stallion with a flat brown mane and slate-gray eyes asked as he tapped his hoof on a rock and it spit clean open. He sighed at the sight. “Another dud. Hardly a crystal a’tall.”
“Come off it, man, you know nuthin’ grows here,” another stallion spat. “Anyway, good to see another one of us here, or bad depending on how you split it. Biggun, innint he?”
“Oh, of a certainty,” the first agreed. “Poor soul. Family must’a put up quite a wake for him. How many trees you reckon his casket’dve needed?”
“Gotta recken an even dozen,” the second stallion said.
“I suppose we’ll have ta make him welcome, show him the lay o’the land, as ‘twere. Such that it is.” He spat venomously at the earth. “If this cursed ground would actually do something.”
“Keep a strong back and a steady trot. We’ll see our fields again.” The second patted the first’s back comfortingly.
“Mother Faust be willing….”
The Unicorns were perhaps the most open of all their fellow prisoners in their scrutiny of the new arrival. The stallion radiated a form of energy and charisma that was almost palpable to them. The breed carried an air of authority and nobility they had not noticed in his … cousins.
“My, what a frightful sight. Wouldn’t you agree, Star Breaker?” A stallion with a red-gold mane and ruby fur ran a hoof through his hair for what had to be the tenth time in the last five minutes. The tattered remains of a purple-lined velvet cape barely stretched back to his shoulders now.
“Do you feel it?” the mare beside him asked. Her air was slightly less refined. She wore a simple homespun cloak that, while not nearly so flashy as her companion’s must have been, had fared far better in their confinement. She looked in Hammer Strike’s direction with her white milky eyes.
“Naturally.” The colt snorted derisively. “Probably the bastard son of a noble. There’s a reason we don’t mingle with their kind. Doubtless, his unique heritage is what drew our captors to him.” He tossed his mane again. “Call the rest of the herd together,” he ordered. “This mixed heritage provides dangerous ground for our pact.”
“Very well,” Star Breaker responded, though she stared at the new arrival for a few moments longer. There was something about him she couldn’t quite understand. With a shrug, she turned to do as ordered.
Hammer Strike hummed to himself as he directed his attention toward the group of Earth Ponies that Distant Sight was leading him to. “Something tells me this will be delightful.”
“It’s not so bad, just the way things have always been.” Distant shrugged.
“Could be worse, I suppose.” Hammer Strike sighed.
“Well, would ye look’it what the cat dragged back. Distant Sight. It’s been a sore while since you’ve been let out.” The stallion with the gray eyes jerked his head Hammer Strike’s way. “Who’s your friend?”
“This is Hammer Strike.” Distant Sight gestured to him with his head. “Gave the Alicorns real trouble taking him in.”
“Sadly, no more than three broken skulls,” Hammer Strike commented.
The Pony burst into a fit of laughter. “Skulls. That’s a good one, that is! Oh, I like you, friend. Good sense of humor’s just what a gathering like ours needs.” He extended a hoof. “The name’s Jaedite.”
“I’m sorry to say I’ll probably disappoint you in that department.” Hammer Strike returned the shake. “A pleasure.”
“Whelp, c’mon, you lot. Might as well introduce ye ta th’ rest o’the herd. Distant’s not one for gabbin much.”
“We’re quite similar in that regard.”
Hammer Strike gave a shuddering gasp as he came to. He was within his shared cell on his side, but he felt horribly wrong. Distant showed some concern, but at the moment, he was too distracted recollecting his memories.
They had come for him once again, down the halls, into the same familiar room where they implated their leash into him. The same scientist greeted him. He shuddered as he remembered. This time they had him on his back as the machine above came to life. He watched it crack open with a hiss before lowering tools toward his chest.
He pressed a hoof to his chest, noting a large scar that ran vertically along it. They didn’t even put him under for the surgery or give him anything for the pain. Instead, they left him awake as they tore it open and began to adjust his insides.
He steadied his breathing as he recalled what the doctor had told him. They wanted to ensure he stayed alive. They messed with his adrenal glands in some way, some form of alternative method of keeping him alive for longer.
He sighed as he pushed himself upright. It took him a moment to realize that Distant was talking to him. “Sorry, I … I didn’t quite catch that.”
“I asked if you’re okay,” Distant reiterated. “You’ve been off ever since the yard.”
“Sorry, yeah, I think.” He took a breath. “Haven’t had any real sunlight or moonlight for some time. A part of me just … doesn’t feel right.”
“We were outside four hours,” Distant noted.
“That’s not outside.” Hammer Strike shook his head. “There may be light and warmth, but that is not outside.”
“How could it not be outside?”
“There’s no solar energy. It’s all fake.” He frowned. “Of that much, I am certain.”
“You mean they keep us caged all the time, like animals, and they don’t even give us an opportunity to see the sun?”
Hammer Strike nodded. “They’re quite cruel in how they do things.” He hummed aloud as he thought to the cameras. He’d determined there were only two, diagonal from each other in the room to capture every space. After a brief moment of focus, he was able to shift the aspects ever so slightly, breaking the wires connecting them and shifting the insides to the point of being useless. There was no other method of looking into the room or listening in besides physically being there now. “Well, would you look at that?”
“What?” Distant asked.
“Their cameras broke.” Hammer Strike gave a soft smirk. For the first time in a while, he allowed a brief bit of thaumic energy to escape his eyes as he viewed his handiwork.
“So, they can’t see us anymore?”
“Nor can they hear us.” Hammer Strike frowned. “I’ll be honest with you. This won’t last too long before they try to figure out what happened. Thankfully, they won’t be able to figure out how it was done.”
“Your acting like the Unicorns do when they practice magic,” Distant noted sourly.
“Not quite.” Hammer Strike shook his head. “I use something different from magic. Next to nobody can recreate it.” He sighed. “It forces me to stay alive, should I have the will for it; though I can still feel pain, and it leaves me scarred.” He huffed as he placed a hoof to his chest and began to attempt some form of treatment for the wound.
“So, that’s how you’ve been doing everything you’ve done?”
“Correct.” He nodded. “This is another reason why they’ve been really focused on me.”
“Sleipnir’s shoes.” Distant sighed.
“Oh yeah, there’s those, too.” Hammer Strike looked to his back hooves. “I, admittedly, keep forgetting those are there.”
Distant’s mouth hung open as he looked on the legendary horseshoes.
“Yeah, I can’t remove them. Nor can anyone else....”
“Those shoes have been lost to legend for generations,” Distant noted. “How?”
“One night, when I put up a fire off to the side of a road, an older stallion in a cloak came up to me. I conversed with him and let him ‘gather his strength’ near the fire I had made before he set off once more, but not before giving me a pair of rusty horseshoes. Put them on to check them out, and they kinda attached themselves and cleaned themselves up perfectly.” He shrugged. “Turns out he also had double the amount of legs of a normal pony, based off the hoofprints.”
“And older stallion wearing a cloak? Did he have a strange accent?”
“It’s been awhile, but I believe so.”
Distant shook his head. His tone was awed when he spoke. “You actually met Sleipnir.”
“I’d love to talk more, but I think one of the scientists or guards are currently about to enter the cell to figure out what happened to the cameras.” Hammer Strike frowned as the cell door was suddenly thrown open. The two prisoners were promptly escorted to the ‘open grounds’ earlier than expected. Hammer Strike couldn’t help but smirk as he glanced at Distant.
Hammer Strike sighed to himself as he glanced to the cell door once again. It had been over a month by this point, and from what he could tell, it was sometime in February. The temperature of the pseudo-outside was decently chilled, though just at a fine level that nobody would require anything extra.
He had gone through two additional surgeries, one in his chest, something to do with his lungs, and the other was something to do with his skeleton, though he had no idea of what they did. It was hard to extract information when he was refraining from speaking the language. They were much more open when they thought he couldn’t understand them, but sometimes he wished he could ask more.
“Ex Divinia etiam, I miss my forge.” Hammer Strike sighed. “Hell, I miss any activity that isn’t sitting around or surgery.”
“You were a blacksmith on the outside, then?” Distant asked.
“Yeah.” He rubbed at his growing beard. “Huh, I swear I told you about that.”
Distant shrugged. “You’ve never said anything so concrete as that.”
“Fair enough.” He frowned. “Yeah, I’m a smith. I’d like to think I’m pretty capable. I can smith almost any weapon type and common tools and items, like nails and hinges.”
“Well, it’s definitely a rare enough skill set among our kind.” Distant nodded. “Hard to hammer metal with your mouth.”
“I use a hammer designed with my hoof in mind.” Hammer Strike frowned. “Wait, you all smith with hammers made for your mouth?”
“Best we could do.” Distant shrugged.
Hammer Strike’s frown deepened. “I suppose it doesn’t help that I was somewhat self taught in a way. I learned some things from my uncle some time ago, but I didn’t really retain it at the time.”
“You’ve led an interesting life,” Distant said. “Sorry you ended up here.”
“We’ll have to see how things go from here, huh?” Hammer Strike frowned as he rubbed at his throat. “What did you do before all this?”
“I was a farmer, like most of my kind.” Distant shrugged. “Farming is what we’re good at, after all.”
“Admittedly, I’ve never been particularly good at it. My connection to the planet was more on the metal side of things.” He chuckled, then winced before placing a hoof on his chest.
“Take it easy,” Distant urged him. “I don’t think there are Ponies here who see as much testing in a month as you do in a fortnight.”
“I guess they don’t like me much.” He smirked in return before steadying his breath. “Yeah, I noticed that. I mean, I’ve only seen you go in for testing once in the entire time I’ve been here.”
“You must stand out.” Distant frowned. “That’s not a good thing here.”
“I mean, I don’t think I’ve heard of anyone else killing some of them.”
“We Ponies are lucky if we can scratch them.” Distant chuckled dryly.
Hammer Strike sighed. “Two sets coming our way. Based off the time, it’s probably for the ‘yard time’.”
As Hammer Strike commented it, both moved toward the back wall before the doors suddenly opened to reveal their usual guards. True to his guess, the two were led to the false yard again. Hammer Strike shrugged to Distant before heading over to a spot for himself.
One thing that Hammer Strike was able to notice as he scanned the area was that the numbers of Ponies seemed to only barely fluctuate. There was always at least a hundred collectively, though the amount of new faces that greeted Hammer Strike grew every time he came out.
He frowned as he scanned over groups. The Unicorns kept to themselves and seemed very secretive. The Pegasai attempted to keep to themselves, but they were loud at times and horrible at sneaking around, considering the open grounds and the fact they couldn’t fly without being electrocuted back to the ground. The Earth ponies kept to themselves and attempted to get as little attention as possible.
“You’re very far from home,” a voice said tepidly.
Hammer Strike kept himself from tensing, though only just barely before he turned towards the source of the voice.
A mare sat not far away. She was a Unicorn with a dark blue coat and a silver mane and tail. She wore a simple homespun cloak, and her eyes were milky white, indicting blindness. “And you have a great journey to go before you’ll return there,” she said slowly, tilting her head as she stared at him.
Hammer Strike allowed a small smirk to form before he turned his attention fully to the mare. “Oh, I know. Trust me on that one.”
“Do you?” she asked curiously. “Do you truly see the path of your hoofsteps? The void of pain and madness you'll walk through? The madness will lessen, but the pain will remain.”
“Not as clearly as you, perhaps, but I’ve seen glimpses of it.” He frowned. “I know it will not be easy, nor will I come out of it the same as I am now.” He glanced back at the open yard.
“But you will come out, and with you a great light.” The mare nodded. “You will live to walk out of this city. That alone is more than any of us.”
“I certainly wish I could do more about that.” Hammer Strike sighed. “But that may be out of reach.”
“Weep not for the damned,” she told him. “You must look forward, always forward.”
“It’s all I can do, eh?”
“The lords’ sweat, the ladies’ tears. These shall encompass you. The sun and the moon follow in your wake. The dead who walks will guard your shadow, and you shall pave the path to end the war of the tribes,” she told him. “Fear not the dark. Be wary of even the light, for your path lies between the two. When the time comes, run. And, if it pleases you, remember Star Breaker, a blind filly who prays only for your success.” She bowed her head gently to him.
“I appreciate it.” Hammer Strike gave a gentle nod. “The other’s may have questions for you when you return to them. I can already hear them discussing your actions, I’m sorry to say.”
“I am a lowborn blind filly,” she said. “A resource; nothing else.”
Hammer Strike frowned to himself. “I still wish you the best.”
Star Breaker nodded as she rose to her hooves. “I thank you for that.”
Hammer Strike sighed to himself as he was led to the surgery wing again. Once more, he was pushed into the room, strapped down onto the table, and forced to watch as the familiar scientist went over his tablet to figure out what the next operation would be.
“Oh now,” the scientist looked to Hammer Strike. “Looks like they finally approved my request.” He chuckled and turned to one of the back cabinets. His horn ignited as he pulled out a small vial.
Hammer Strike squinted his eyes as he tried to read what was on the vial before the scientist turned around with a syringe in his telekinetic hold. He frowned as the scientist drew near. It only took the Alicorn a moment to inject him with the substance.
The scientist stood back and waited for a change. The device above did not activate as Hammer Strike glanced around the room. It wasn’t until Hammer Strike felt his eyelids closing that he realized what he’d been injected with.
“Good, a triple dose worked well for it,” the scientist commented to the guards.
Hammer Strike drifted into darkness, unable to keep himself active anymore.
Someone shook him gently. “Hey, wake up, come on!” a voice called.
Hammer Strike startled awake as he began scanning the room rapidly. “Oh, gods, what did they do to me?” He groaned as he moved to an upright position, still periodically checking the room. He couldn’t explain it, but something felt off to him. He was on edge and constantly checking and thinking on the room around him.
“Hey, calm down. Look at me.”
Hammer Strike attempted to look at Distant only to occasionally snap to something else in the room for a split second. His mind felt like it was running a mile a minute. He groaned as he placed a hoof on his head. “S-sorry, something doesn’t feel r-right.”
“What did they do?” Distant asked. His eyes were wide, though he managed to keep his voice under control.
“I’m not q-quite—” He growled to himself as he stuttered. “I’m not quite s-sure. They sedated me for a f-first before activating the machine.”
In a surprising first, Distant laid a hoof on Hammer Strike’s shoulder. “Hey, things will be okay. We can figure this out.” Whether he said it to comfort his friend or to try and ease his own fears, Hammer Strike couldn’t tell. Maybe both.
“I-I’ll be fine.” Hammer Strike gave a shuddering sigh. He knew he wasn’t in danger at the immediate moment, but that doctor had definitely done something to him. Some part of his mind was active constantly as a result of whatever they’d implanted. He went silent as he thought on what they could have done to his brain, but each result came back the same as an unknown variable.
“Damn them,” Distant finally spat.
“I’ll be f-fine,” Hammer Strike repeated as his focus seemed to drift. “The only logical thing I can think of is they altered something in my brain. But I’m still functioning. Perhaps some enhancements, though not the stable variety.” He began to mutter to himself as he continued to think through what they could have possibly done. “Perhaps some alteration of chemical production, though that wouldn’t explain—”
“It’s like your mind is racing faster than you want it to,” Distant observed. “Like you’re always trying to think ahead of everything.”
Hammer Strike snapped his attention back toward Distant. “It feels like when I was planning out the construction of my house in the middle of a winter storm. Desperation, thinking as quickly as I could to ensure the best outcome for what I needed. Also similar to the time I fought Gryphons, multiple using their flight against me while I thought through the steps needed to deal with each and every one individually.” He placed a hoof on his head again. “The only thing is that I can’t stop it. I just can’t stop thinking.”
“You need to try and focus. Surely, there’s something you left behind that you can focus on?” Distant encouraged.
Hammer Strike sorted through years of memories as he tried to find a singular target for his mind to latch onto. It drifted from topic to topic. Smithing to carpentry, architecture to stonework. It wasn’t until he drifted to friends and family that he finally thought of Rarity. Sure, his mind still raced and drifted, but he tried his damnedest to steady himself. “G-give me time. I-I can adjust,” he assured. “I just n-need time.”
“Well, time is definitely what we have,” Distant noted.
Hammer Strike gave a shuddering breath as he tried to focus his thoughts. Everything was a constant stream of activity. There was the room, the aspects, the exact measurements of the room being somewhere around twenty meters squared by rough estimate based off his own hoof range and measurement.
He groaned as he placed a hoof to his head yet again. He needed to try and calm his thoughts. Distant Sight had been taken out of their cell sometime earlier, about half an hour, give or take twenty seconds. From what he could guess, it was for some more tests or experiments, though he was unable to determine what kinds of tests Distant was put through. Apparently, the Alicorns prefered to make it a mixed bag, depending on the tribe they were working with. Or so his cell mate had explained.
They appeared to be testing Distant physically and magically, rather than physically with augmentation or enhancement. As such, Hammer Strike suspected these experiments to be more magically focused, unlike what had been done to himself.
He frowned as he continued to think. There was only so much he could do in the cell. Though, if he worked hard at it, he probably could break out. But even so, it wouldn’t work out for him. He didn’t have a full layout of the facility, and he was stranded on an island. There was no way he could escape, even if he did manage to break out.
Then there was also the fact that he knew Celestia and Luna were to be born here, and he was to somehow find and assist them in some way.
‘How am I supposed to do that, anyway?’ He frowned as he thought to himself. He was a prisoner, a captured test subject that was destined to be experimented on until he perished.
His ear twitched as a set of hoofsteps began to resonate through the floor outside the door. Three sets. Two Alicorns moving in and a much smaller individual, most likely Distant Sight, based off the movement pattern.
Knowing the system by this point, he took a few steps back toward the wall to ensure they had no reason to bother him. Distant was marched into the room looking tired and sore. As soon as he was secure, the guards filed out and the door was closed and locked. When they were gone, Distant thumped heavily into his corner.
“Y-you all right?” Hammer Strike questioned, even as he struggled to rein his mind in for the discussion.
“Just a long day.” Distant sighed. “They’ve been weird lately.”
“Weird in w-what way?”
“Asking questions about my life and things I’ve been through, taking new samples, wanting to test my limits on things.”
“I-it certainly sounds strange. Most of the o-other test subjects a-appear to go mostly through physical tests or magical tests based off race, but nothing like questioning from what I’ve g-gathered.” Hammer Strike frowned.
“I think they’re building up to something big.” Distant’s tone was worried.
“But for w-what, is the question.” He tapped his hoof. “What type of questions are they asking, or is it just a j-jumbled mess of questions ab-bout your past?”
“Seems like everything, to be honest.”
“C-curious. I wonder if they’re t-trying to find something or someone r-related to you.”
“Best of luck to them. As far as I know, I’m the last of my clan.”
Hammer Strike gave a shrug before he placed a hoof to his chin in thought. After a few seconds, he began muttering to himself, mostly thinking aloud on what the Alicorns might be thinking.
“—Doesn’t help this is around the f-fourth time they’ve pulled you in the last t-two weeks. Perhaps there’s something in y-your genetics or magical signature that they find interesting that they want to study further with relatives or other c-cases.”
“I hope they find what they want soon and leave me alone.” Distant sighed again.
“Unlikely.” Hammer Strike frowned. “They’ll keep a-asking, over and over, repeatedly, until they either f-find what they want or finally determine that you’re not lying or inc-correct.” He looked up to Distant and winced at the sight of his glare. “S-sorry. I can’t keep myself from s-saying the first thing that c-comes to mind sometimes.”
Distant sighed again and shook his head. His anger was misplaced, and he knew it was. His expression softened into the tired lines of one who has seen much work. “It’s okay. Just, thanks for listening.” He laid his head down, and soon fell into deep sleep.
Hammer Strike nodded as he directed his attention back to the wall and continued his train of thought on their current situation. He already knew he wasn’t going to rest.
Hammer Strike scanned the open grounds once more as he tried to memorize the new faces that had arrived. There was also a lack of certain faces that he had wanted to keep tabs on, which was a shame, but it made his job easier.
He was alone, off to the side of the field where no Pony congregated, effectively separating himself from their group system of basically splitting each other by race. Each of them seemed to regard him as his own group, probably due to his abnormal nature compared to the three of them.
The Pegasi were curious about his scarring. His battle-like nature seemed to make them ponder. His thaumic field and magic garnered the attention of the Unicorns while the Earth Ponies seemed to regard him mainly due to the fact that he was, technically, abnormally sized compared to most of them.
His ears perked at the sound of gravel and loose earth crunching beneath approaching hooves. “All right, nopony else has actually tried talking to you before, and I’m sick of all the whispers and warnings. Court-martial be damned. What’s your story, Earther?”
“Which part in particular are you asking for?” Hammer Strike replied simply, only glancing to confirm the Pegasus’ position.
“How you got here, why everyone’s scared of you, what rumors about you are true, the usual interrogation.”
“Alicorns brought me here. I’m an anomaly, so the others are afraid of me, yourself included. And for your last question, probably most of them.” He answered each in order, focusing his attention on the position of the pegasus compared to himself.
“You know how to fight?”
“Better than most of you.”
“Is that an insult?”
“If you want to take it that way.” Hammer Strike frowned as he noted the equine’s shift in posture. The warrior was potentially about to lunge, so he needed to ensure he was ready for it.
“And assuming I do?” the Pegasus growled.
“Your problem, not mine.”
As soon as the Pegasus left the ground, Hammer Strike shifted to the side, giving himself enough room for the antagonist to miss him. Within a moment’s notice, he reached out and grabbed the warrior’s tail, halting the momentum before he turned on the spot and threw the scrapper bodily into the nearby containment wall.
The metal reverberated from the impact as the Pegasus bounced off and rolled against the ground. While he was still breathing, it was clear that the blow had knocked him out cold.
Hammer Strike frowned as he turned his attention back to the yard. Several heads turned away from him toward their own respective groups. It was clear they all had noticed the situation, if they hadn’t been watching from the beginning.
It was only a question of how long until the guards came out to deal with him.
“What just happened?” one of the Unicorns whispered as they stared.
“Sparrow met a mountain,” Star Breaker answered almost nonchalantly.
The Pegasi were resolute in avoiding association with the aggressor, though some few offered sympathetic glances when their superiors weren’t looking. All of them were trained well enough to recognize a skilled hoof at work. The strike had been well timed and executed with flawless grace that bordered on inequine. He hadn’t lied about his skill in battle, as the soldier had learned the hard way.
The Earth Ponies kept their peace, though many huddled farther away from the stallion as a result of the show of force. While they may tolerate his presence, it was clear Hammer Strike would never be considered truly one of them again, if he ever were in the first place.
Hammer Strike frowned. “Pathetic.”
‘Another day, another surgery,’ Hammer Strike thought to himself as he sighed aloud. It was a familiar process by this point. Walk to the room, get strapped down with the equal amount of restraint they used the last time when the did something to his head.
That was the part that worried him. When it came to testing these changes to his body, most of them, he could handle, but when they messed with his head, he felt like he would almost never recover to a normal style of thought again.
With that in mind, he had no idea what they were going to do this time. His eyes roamed over the room in an attempt to find the scientist’s tablet and perhaps glean some information on what they were going to do to him this time.
The scientist was taking his time, more so than usual as he roamed the room gathering things from the cabinets and other containers. He frowned as he pulled out a syringe and measured a fluid inside it. The solution was similar to the fluid they used the first time to knock him out, which was not helpful to the Earth Pony’s line of thought.
Hammer Strike wanted to panic, to find some method of getting off that table and back into containment, but he had no choice but to watch as the doctor finished measurement and drew close. The last time they knocked him out, it led to the problem with his mind, constantly active and unable to relax. What would they do to him this time?
The process continued, and it took notably longer for him to start feeling the effects of the sedation. As he struggled against the growing darkness, he witnessed the machine above become active once more. Several sharp segments lined up to his head as they lowered closer and closer to his left eye.
Then it all went dark once more.
Whether it was the sedation or he passed out from shock, he couldn’t tell anymore. He was good at hiding it most of the time, but he was becoming more and more horrified of each encounter with the Alicorns. Most Ponies went in for, at most, two surgeries before they perished due to incompatibility.
He wasn’t like most Ponies.
At least five different things had been altered or placed in his body by the Alicorns, and from what he could tell, they were curious to keep going. He had endured more than any subject had ever experienced, and yet he was still alive.
His eyes snapped open once again as he quickly jumped to his hooves. He was back in the cell. Everything was slightly darker than normal, and for some reason he couldn’t make out anything on his left side. He raised a hoof and looked at it through his right eye before crossing it over to his left where it suddenly left his vision.
His breathing became unsteady as moved his hoof back and forth. He couldn’t see.
He couldn’t see through his left eye.
They blinded him.
His heart rate climbed rapidly as he reached for the left side of his face and probed the surface. Something was there. He had his eye, but he was still blind. Whatever they were testing didn’t work.
“Hammer Strike?” Distant’s voice cut into the panic. “Are you okay?”
Hammer Strike turned to the side before turning much further than normal to see Distant. “I c-can’t. I can’t see through m-my left eye.” He fumbled over the surface again in vain disbelief. Or perhaps a hope that something would change. Such trauma is difficult to accept. “Ex Divinia etiam, they blinded me,” he finally said.
“Your eye is grey,” Distant said. “Otherwise, it looks normal.”
“Doesn’t ch-change the fact I can’t see through it!” Hammer Strike’s voice rose before he winced. “S-sorry, just….”
“Calm down. I know this is stressful, but you need to remain calm.” Distant tried to keep his voice low and steady as he looked into Hammer Strike’s good eye.
Hammer Strike couldn’t calm himself nearly so easily. Rather than staying in a panicked state, he started to grow enraged. The Alicorns did this to him. They blinded him. They were responsible for this, for his pain, for being trapped in the past, for everything. He kept his power in check to the best of his ability, but he could feel the area around him warming slightly. “Those bastards,” he growled.
‘They’ll pay. I don’t know how, but I’ll make sure of it. One way or another,’ he thought, then squinted as his anger overtook rational thought. Then something clicked in his head. A sudden overflow of information poured into his mind at once. His body locked up as he felt the equivalent of static enter his brain.
He couldn’t tell how long he sat there, or what was going on in the outside world until he suddenly hit the ground. His breathing came heavily as the world came back into focus.
“Hammer Strike? Did something happen?” Distant asked.
“I-I’m—I’m fine. I’m fine. I—” he steadied his breathing as he turned toward Distant. It was at this point he realized he was looking to his left. He reached a hoof up to his left eye and was able to see it, though it felt … different somehow. “W-what h-happened?”
“It’s glowing red,” Distant stated.
“L-like, my whole eye?”
“No, it’s like your normal eye, but … red, and glowing.”
Hammer Strike looked to his hoof once again, moving it back and forth between his left and right side. The one on the left seemed to take in more detail than his right. “I c-can see. It’s just … different.”
“By the ancients, they can make eyes now,” Distant swore.
Hammer Strike started to focus on his hoof, moving it back and forth as he determined how much detail he could see. He wasn’t paying attention to anything else at the moment, and didn’t notice that the cell doors were opened until his ocular unite picked up the presence walking in front of him.
“Fascinating. It seems the chemical imbalance produced from anger stabilized the connection, allowing the cerebral pathways to start accepting the information,” the doctor said.
Hammer Strike wanted to attack. Every fiber of his being wanted to break the Alicorn’s neck. But it would only result poorly. Instead, he fixed the scientist with a flat glare.
The alicorn cast some kind of spell. Hammer Strike could feel it wash over him, but his field blocked the effect. Distant seemed stuck in place, so he was guessing it was probably paralysis. The Alicorn approached Hammer Strike and got down to examine the eye closer. After a few minutes, he nodded to himself and left. The door closed behind him as the spell released its hold on Distant.
Hammer Strike squinted at the door and slowly began to relax. He quickly focused on the cameras and once again disabled them before he slumped in place. “Gods, I d-don’t know if I can keep this up.”
“One day at a time, my friend. At least we’re both here,” Distant offered.
“I-I can’t keep up this act anymore,” Hammer Strike explained. “Gods, Distant. I c-can’t. It’s complete and utter a-agony for every waking moment I’ve been awake since they c-cracked open my body and did something to my skeleton. What I described to you before keeps me a-alive. No matter what happens, it keeps me alive.”
“I can’t imagine what you’ve gone through,” Distant sympathised. “But if you want to make them pay, you’ll need to keep strong.”
“I know.” Hammer Strike winced to himself. “Gods, I know. I’ve h-had to do it for so long as is. Longer than you’ll ever know.”
“I can listen, if you need to talk.”
“Distant I—” Hammer Strike split his attention to ensure the camera was still deactivated. “Gods. Distant, I’m not from this p-period of time.”
“This period of time?” Distant needed clarification.
“The Alicorns were messing about with time-based magic,” Hammer Strike explained. “I’m not from … here. I don’t have f-friends or family here. They’re all some thousands of y-years away from here.”
“Then tell me about when you come from,” Distant said. Whether or not he believed was beside the point. He was helping a fellow prisoner to cope. That was all that mattered.
Hammer Strike gave a soft exhale with a small smile on his face. “Believe it or not, we’re all unified under a single nation.”
Keeping track of time was difficult when they kept him in a cell with no real sight to the outside world. By his rough estimate, Hammer Strike had been there for roughly four months by this point. He sighed to himself as he scanned around the room. It had been roughly a week since they changed his eye out, and the difference was still very notable.
“B-based off their previous schedule so far, you’re probably due for another round of questions sometime soon,” Hammer Strike commented to his cell mate.
“You’re starting to track them?” Distant asked.
“Mentally, I’ve got nothing else k-keeping me active, so I’ve started to count in between sessions for both of us,” he explained. “It’s been r-roughly seventy hours and ten minutes since the last session.”
“I don’t know how you stand it.”
“It’s the only thing that’s h-helping me keep going. Helps keep my stuttering to a minimum as w-well.”
“I suppose that makes sense.” Distant nodded.
“Here they come,” Hammer Strike commented suddenly as he sat upright. “Got all your answers already prepped for the eighteenth time they’re going to ask you?”
“I do.” Distant nodded. “Guess I'll see you soon.”
Hammer Strike nodded as the Alicorns entered the room once more and directed Distant out of it. As per usual, they took extra care to ensure he didn’t move from his spot while they removed Distant. He sighed to himself again and began his mental timer. Usually, these questions would go on for roughly an hour and a half to two hours. This gave him time to do his usual thing of absolutely nothing.
The cells were as bare as always, nothing but a questionable bed on each side of the room. From what he gathered, the cell walls were made of some sort of steel alloy, though he couldn’t figure it out by just the aspects alone. The cameras relied on some sort of magical relay, though he wasn’t able to get a close enough look at them to figure it out for sure.
Unless he wanted to add some risk to what he was doing, he had to keep himself in check and barely use his field. It was mostly active in resisting drugs and magic from his time there. While it was enough to keep from weakening, it was a stagnant point. But he couldn’t use his power without pulling the attention of the Alicorns to himself, and he was definitely against that.
He frowned once more and continued to think to himself as he formed ideas on the others, and some ideas toward what they were trying to gain from Distant Sight. And behind all this deliberation, he kept track of how long the session was taking.
From minutes to hours he counted on, growing somewhat worried when the time ticked over their usual limit of three hours.
His worry only continued to grow as the time ticked over further. Eventually, they reached ten hours.
Then fifteen.
Twenty. Thirty. It kept going on and on.
Forty. Fifty….
It wasn’t until he heard some hoofsteps that he finally started to feel better, except the door opened to reveal just the pair of guards. They directed him outside the cell and down the same path they always did for yard time.
None of the others interacted with him, having been effectively scared off by others in their groups or by being one of the witnesses to his antics.
There was still no sign of Distant Sight.
Time marched on until the guards slowly began to remove Ponies from the yard. Hammer Strike was one of the last to be removed. And as he walked alongside the guards, he finally gave in and turned towards one of them.
“What happened to D—” He sighed as he recalled the number. “—To group eight, subject fifteen?”
“Eight fifteen is currently in ongoing research,” one guard responded.
“For this long?”
“Some experiments may take extended periods of time,” the second guard droned.
“It’s been roughly a hundred and twenty three hours. Considering your previous tests have taken less than a fraction of the time, this is highly abnormal.”
Rolling their eyes, they stopped a passing scientists in the corridor and had a brief discussion with him. After a few moments, they began walking again. When they reached the cell, the guard looked at him in a bored cold stare. “Subject eight fifteen did not survive the procedure,” he informed Hammer Strike as they closed the door.
Hammer Strike stared at the door for a few minutes. “He … didn’t make it?” He shook his head in disbelief. “N-no, that can’t be right. They’ve only been q-questioning him,” he muttered to himself. “They haven’t done a-anything besides question him since I got here.”
‘What could they have done to him?’ Hammer Strike continued to think through the problem, and more importantly through Distant’s behavior over the last several weeks. It couldn’t have been simple questioning. Yes, Distant wasn’t in the best of shapes, but he wasn’t about to drop dead anytime soon. He’d confirmed that multiple times, both through questions and checking the Pony thaumically.
And yet, despite how fast his mind was forced to work and all the intellect he had to bear, he just couldn’t wrap his head around it.
Report on operation Veil Blade.
Reporting scientist: Crucis Murum
Experiment went through as planned with no unforeseen issues. Runes where correctly inscribed, the correct materials where set up, and we had the sacrifice’s true name carved upon the blade. However, when the blade was used to enact the operation by killing subject 8-15, nothing happened. The subject died as intended, and there was a brief pulse of energy, but afterward nothing. We’re still attempting to find out what went wrong. But given the rarity of the materials and the time for preparation, we don’t believe the council will authorize another attempt. The idea has been put forth the problem was connected to the use of 8-15 as a sacrifice, but we have found no evidence to corroborate the theory.
At this point in time, we can only say for certain that nothing happened and subject 8-15 died. If we discover anything, it will be put in a further report. Subject’s body has been disposed of in the usual fashion. Reports show such a loss won’t greatly affect the experiment stock, though we’ll soon be moving on to nines, it seems.
-fin-
Frustration.
Hammer Strike’s breathing was unsteady as he laid on the floor of his cell.
Anger.
Every minute he sat there, he kept thinking, thinking on what happened, what the Alicorns must have done, how they killed Distant.
Rage.
Distant was the only friend he had in this place. Gods, he knew that it was only a matter of time, but he couldn’t handle the thought. His mind screamed. He wanted vengeance. He wanted to fight them. Every fiber of his being wanted to kill. His vision swam as he struggled to keep himself in check.
The temperature of the room was rising.
He couldn’t do it.
He couldn’t keep the act up anymore. And with that blunt reality crashing down on him, something in him finally broke.
His breathing suddenly steadied and he stood upright. Embers licked off his body that soon grew into flames. First they were yellow, then gold, then red, and finally they shifted to a deep blue.
The barred door was glowed a bright orange. The walls and floor began to warp and buckle. Then the corners began to soften and melt as the surface gradually liquified into so much slag.
Panicked calls shrieked from outside.
Hammer Strike didn’t care.
The room was continued to warp as spell after spells filled the room in an attemp to counter the flames. But neither water nor cold would slow them. How could they when matched against such a towering force the Alicorns had stoked ever so lovingly over the last several months? Fire retardant foam vaporized before it touched him. Sleeping spells were shattered and ground to dust.
Payment must be made.
The bars began to melt. The voices became louder and more numerous.
In a laboratory not far from prisoner containment, Ulkrusher banged and slammed against its containment in a frenzied effort to break out. At this point in time, the lab was empty, and thus no one was there to renew the quickly dwindling shielding that bound it. The angrier Hammer Strike got, the stronger the hammer battered its containment until, finally, it shattered its bindings and reduced the closed door to brittle metal shards, then tunneled through the walls, killing several Alicorns and injuring a dozen more on its path to its master. Pain would be met with pain.
Just as the bars to Hammer Strike’s cell slid off in a semi-liquid puddle, Ulkrusher broke through the door and came to roost almost gleefully in its master’s hooves.
Hammer Strike couldn’t help it as a broad smile sprang across his face. “Perfect. Perfect, perfect, perfect. We’ll get them. Don’t you worry.”
Alicorns were a hardy species. Stronger than the average Pony, and much harder to kill. Thus, it was rare for an Alicorn to fear anything. The guards who looked into Hammer Strike’s face as he bore down on them indeed felt no fear.
Terror would be much more accurate.
“I don’t think I've ever seen him smile like that,” Grif commented. Of everyone watching, he seemed to be taking things with the least effect. Even the Doctor’s face was a look of cold horror as they witnessed the massacre.
“That’s the kind of smile of someone who’s, well, if you’ll forgive the term, broken,” Vital said.
“Battle frenzy, or berserker, if you prefer,” Pensword corrected. “They killed his only friend after abusing both of them almost endlessly. They just didn’t realize how badly they messed up.”
“Unfortunately, I think that's a little too optimistic, Pensword,” Grif commented as he watched. “I’m the last person to doubt Hammer Strike, but he’s not going to be able to kill his way out.”
“I’m … not sure he even wants to,” Vital said and swallowed heavily as his face paled. “Wow. I mean, I know videogames and movies help prep for this kind of thing, but to watch it happening in real life….” Ulkrusher was popping skulls like berries in a press.
“Video games and movies are nothing like the real thing,” Grif noted grimly. “They’ve pushed him past the point where he cares, and that's usually the point that keeps warriors from killing indiscriminately.”
“So, for lack of a better term,” he cleared his throat and whispered in the Gryphon’s ear. “War Doctor mode.”
“Maybe, but at least the Daleks killed quickly,” Grif responded.
“I’m going to assume that comparison is between the Alicorns and the Daleks, not Hammer Strike and the Daleks?”
“Gold star.” Grif rolled his eyes.
It was at this point on the screen that they witnessed electricity arcing off of Hammer Strike’s neck, leading them to believe the leash placed into him beforehand was working overtime in an attempt to stop him.
Hammer Strike showed no sign of feeling it.
Pensword winced. “How has that thing not exploded by now?”
“Advanced tech. I’m sure the Doctor may or may not have an explanation for it,” Vital said.
Twilight stared in abject horror.
“The Alicorns were experimenting with some very dangerous things,” the Doctor noted, then looked grimly at Twilight. “Are you still certain you want to pursue that kind of technology now, Princess?”
“I … I would … we would never—”
“You might not. Others would and will,” he said as he stared at her not with the playful eyes she had known in Ponyville. No, this wasn’t Time Turner. These eyes were far older, far wiser, and far more jaded. “Perhaps now you can appreciate your friend’s argument.”
The smile never left Hammer Strike’s face as he continued on his warpath. The electricity by this point had stopped, either because it wasn’t working and they knew it or they’d burned it out. It was at this point that the observers noticed a series of small tubes sticking out of Hammer Strike’s back and side.
While he was still fighting with as much force as he could, the Earth Pony was slowing. The impact of his hammer was lessening. After a minute, he threw his hammer full force at the head of one of the guards attempting to detain him. The hammer flew forward in a rapid rotation and took the guard’s head clean off before Hammer Strike slumped forward, hitting the ground with a thud as he finally succumbed to the tranquilizers.
“And that's the game.” Grif sighed.
“But I assume not the match?” Vital asked.
“Obviously,” Pensword said. “He’s still got more to do. He said so himself.”
“Doesn’t make this part any easier, though,” Vital noted.
“I can’t argue with you there,” Pensword agreed as he peered grimly at the monitor. “Definitely not.”
Rarity wept.
Hammer Strike frowned as he came to. Ulkrusher was nowhere near him at this point, and he was in unfamiliar territory. After a moment, he sat upright and looked around. He was in a new cell, and it was covered in a new material that was completely alien to what he had known before. A single bed sat to the side, and a heavily reinforced door waited to contain him.
The new domicile was nearly two floors in height. An observation room of sorts could be seen through a viewing window near the top. There was a thick glass slab coated in a field of energy, one he assumed was designed to keep him from doing anything to it. Behind the glass, he could just make out a few desks and chairs. Unlike the other cell he was in, there was no camera system in this room, leading him to believe that they realized there was no point if, for some reason, it kept “malfunctioning.”
There was a series of lights overhead, half of them were off at the current point, and slowly dimmed over the course of time, leading him to believe its design was meant to help him keep track of time and possibly aid him in his sleeping, though odds were that wouldn’t be happening anytime soon.
He snarled to himself as he realized he was fully detained now, and it would take several months at minimum for him to decipher the room thaumically. “C-contained, new materials, energy system, most likely a field—” He growled to himself. “Damn it. Damn it. D-damn it.”
He continued to scan the room repeatedly, trying to figure out everything he could about the area. “Not steel, not-t a reinforced iron, copper, tin, bronze, titanium, chrome—” He growled again as he tried to calm his mind. “Mixed alloys….”
He grabbed his head in frustration. He’d failed to keep his power in check, meaning they would be investigating him further as a result. He’d screwed up. He’d worked so hard to keep it hidden, and what did he do? He just went and let it all out!
‘They deserved it, though.’
He shuddered at the thought. “They d-did. They did,” he conceded and muttered.
He felt a point of energy suddenly appear in the room. It was a spell of sorts. “Not Alicorn. Too simple, not overly complicated, but at the same time it feels different from magic.” He continued to scan the spell for a time, then finally gave in and spoke up. “I know you’re there.”
He looked up to where he could feel the energy originating. “I know you’re watching me. I can feel you. They did t-this. They opened us up! They made us this!” His breathing grew erratic. “They killed him. They killed him!”
He gave a few shuddering breaths as he tried to rein himself in before a smile took over. “But don’t worry. We’ll get the last laugh…” He inhaled and chuckled to himself. “We know how we die, and it isn’t here. Don’t worry. They will pay.” He continued to chuckle to himself before the energy suddenly snuffed itself out.
“It was me, but it wasn’t me. It was someone else, too. Different, familiar, and yet it wasn’t.” He continued to mutter to himself as he tried to figure out who was also watching.
“Well, that was … a thing?” Grif said.
“Which part, the rambling, the inequine slaughter, the lack of any chance at sleep, or all of the above?” Vital asked.
“It was like he was talking to us,” the Doctor noted. “But that's impossible.”
“Doctor, this is Hammer Strike,” Pensword pointed out with a completely flat expression.
“I suppose he knows we’re trying to get to him,” Grif commented. “He wants us to know he’ll make it through this.”
Dark streaks of mascara painted a pair of black lines down Rarity’s cheeks as she stared at the screen and clenched her teeth. “How much longer does this go on?”
“I don’t know,” the Doctor admitted.
“And we can’t do anything?” she pressed.
“Fixed time. The TARDIS can’t enter it,” the Doctor admitted grimly.
The mare’s voice was perfectly level as she spoke, which made it all the more terrible when she fixed her gaze on them. “Boys, I’m going to need a moment to myself. I’ll be in my room. You call me the instant our next view comes on, do you hear me? I don’t care if it interrupts my beauty sleep or I’m in the middle of a treatment. Come. Get. Me. Do I make myself clear?”
Vital gulped. “Crystal.”
She approached the screen and kissed it, then whispered, “I love you, darling,” before finally excusing herself with all the poise she could muster.
“She’s going to bawl her eyes out, isn’t she?” Vital asked.
“If it were Trixie?” Grif asked before turning and leaving the room.
Vital sighed and shook his head. “You’re playing a cruel game, Fate,” he muttered.
Twilight shook her head. “No, not fate, Ponies. And I’m sick at the thought that I share the same tribe with them.” She rose slowly and strode to the door. “I’m going to keep an eye on Rarity’s room, just in case she needs something.”
Vital nodded. “Just don’t forget to take care of yourself, too, Twilight.”
Twilight sighed and nodded. “I know.”
Hammer Strike was once more on the surgery table, straps holding him down as the machine above began its work on his right eye. He was effectively sedated, and the primary scientist couldn’t help but frown as he looked over his tablet. “If they took even a minute longer, I wouldn’t be here, he muttered to his colleagues. “Make sure it’s putting in a leash meant for a Gryphon. We don’t want a repeat incident.”
“We’re putting in the strongest one we have,” another scientist noted. “How did that weapon break containment?”
“From what the cameras were able to pick up, Eight-Twenty’s anger seemed to cause the weapon to go berserk. Without reinforcement, it was able to break through.” The scientist frowned. “As it traveled to him, it took the head off at least two guards and severely injured at least three more.”
“Why are we even keeping it alive?” a guard asked.
“Because it still lives,” the scientist replied simply. “None of its kind has survived more than two surgeries, and yet it still lives after well over double that.”
“Doesn’t seem worth the risk.”
“It does when you realize that it doesn’t have an augment stabilizer,” the scientist clarified. “It has, by this point, seven augments to its body, and yet it still functions and is able to use them, even.”
“So, you’re seeing how far you can push it?”
“Of course. Why wouldn’t we? Not even a Gryphon can handle more than three. So, what makes this one so special?”
The colleagues nodded, and one of the spoke. “Very well. Let’s just hope this is enough.”
“A Gryphon can’t handle the larger leashes. It causes permanent damage in most creatures, but with this one’s resilience, it should be just enough,” the scientist commented smugly.
“Let's pray you’re right.”
The scientist rolled his eyes. “If you lot are so worried, you can start equipping security with some more tranquilizers.”
“We’re worried because it seems like our chances of hitting it get less and less the longer it’s active.”
“Then start employing those androids we use on the Gryphons.”
“Are you going to sign off on that for the council?”
“They’ve already accepted that more drastic measures should be taken for this one, considering it was placed in the highest security cell we have.”
The tech nodded. “I'll get right on the order, then.”
Extended Holiday Chapter 164: The Mode of Operation
Hammer Strike blinked before shaking his head. He was outside, or at least the pseudo-outside they had for inmates. How long had it been now? He frowned to himself as he thought over things. The number of surgeries they put him through had dwindled drastically compared to his first few months. From what he gathered, it was due to the incident when he’d killed at least twenty-three different Alicorns, a mix between guards and scientists.
He was considered a risk on the level of Gryphons, which, considering the current state of the Gryphons and their empire, meant he was a high risk to contain, indeed. To be honest, he started to not care so much. With how his mind raced so constantly, he began to zone out of the world around him, and would struggle to keep himself level-headed, though he never really knew entirely what he was doing on the outside anymore. Was he still a high risk in their eyes?
He frowned as he looked up into the yard’s artificial sky once more, his new eyes taking in details that he had missed beforehand. Thankfully, one of the things he was able to figure out about the eyes was that if he focused, he could change their color. The best bit of comfort he could afford was at least changing them back from red to blue, though they glowed, rather than retaining that natural pigment he had once known.
As he scanned over the occupants of the space, he realized that there were no familiar faces anymore. He was surrounded by completely new people, and some of them weren’t even Ponies.
He noted a small gathering of Gryphons with obvious signs of the leash chip being implanted in them. Other than that, they had a strange assortment of items on them. They seemed taller than the Gryphons Hammer Strike had met in the past. Even without armor, a lot of them wore some kind of undersuit that covered their bodies to the neck. Each suit had different colors and symbols, but the dialect was too old for Hammer Strike to understand.
“Some sort of medical suit perhaps? No, it wouldn’t make sense for the Alicorns to keep them contained for an extended period of time with just medical oriented suits,” he began muttering to himself uncontrollably. “Something about it they don’t understand, something important that makes them valuable enough to contain. Winds are alive, the situation is great for them. Divine equipment? Something attached to their very being?”
He growled to himself as he continued to think. There weren't enough variables for him to determine anything just yet, but that didn’t stop him from trying to figure it out.
“Observations, keeping them in check, something important, valuable enough to be kept alive. Corpse isn’t worthwhile, apparently,” he hummed aloud as he continued. “Winds, bodysuits, magic or energy, unknown material composition….”
The only problem he faced at this point was that his observations were much more obvious, given the glowing eyes, which meant that a few of the Gryphons under his observation noticed him easily. For now, they seemed to just acknowledge that he was staring at them, but they did nothing about it.
“Just like the Alicorns, perhaps. Might find other races on a much lower level. Comparatively, that’s obvious, … but still a mistake.”
He groaned as he tapped his hoof on the ground and used the other to tap the side of his head as he tried to organize the rapid stream of thoughts better.
“Too many unknowns.”
“That's the pre-fall Gryphons,” Grif said, a bit taken aback.
“Well, it is an era where they were at war, right?” Vital asked.
“At war with the Alicorns.” Grif nodded. “Only species on Equis who gave them trouble, aside from maybe the Dragons.”
“So, is it really such a surprise that they would take prisoners like this?”
“I suppose I thought they’d die first,” Grif admitted.
“Sometimes, you don’t get that option in war,” Pensword said grimly. “We all know that well.”
“Still, I never thought I’d actually see them alive,” Grif noted. “See that symbol on their chest? Little to the left? That's the mark of the lost city.”
“Another lost city?” Twilight asked.
“Given our track records, I’m pretty sure it won’t stay lost for long,” Vital noted. “You guys sort of have a knack for that, and finding trouble along the way.”
“I’m sure the TARDIS will see to that,” Vital reassured. “She wouldn’t guide us wrong.”
“I repeat. Another lost city?”
“Breathe, darling. Breathe,” Rarity said as Twilight began to hyperventilate.
“You think Ponies are the only ones who get lost cities?” Grif asked.
“Well, no, but why didn’t you guys tell me about it?”
“Because it’s a city lost to my people for longer then Equestria’s been around?” Grif asked rhetorically.
“But I could’ve helped you research it.”
“Twilight, how can I put this?” Grif sighed. “Pony libraries have Pony versions of history, and ponies can be kind of….” He considered for a few minutes. “Incredibly racist?”
“... This wouldn’t happen to have anything to do with the EEA, would it?”
“Honestly, Twilight, they seem to be more a symptom, not the root of things. Until we came around, your most common terms were anypony, everypony, or terms with Pony added, instead of body or creature. Several of your base synonyms are inherently racist. ‘Greedy like a Gryphon,’ ‘he’s a real fire-breather.’ Honestly, there are several places within Equestrian territory that barely make the bottom line because the main inhabitants aren't Ponies. Hell, look at what happened with Zecora.”
“Yeah, that’s one that’s a little hard to refute, Twilight,” Vital agreed. “Ponyville wasn’t the first village she visited. It was just the first one that didn’t drive her out, because they were more afraid of the Everfree than they were of her. Granted, she knew she needed to come there, but the point still stands.”
“But not all of Equestria is like that. I was able to convince the Ponies in Ponyville.”
“You also had an education under the personal tutelage of a monarch, with all the vast resources that entails. Not many Ponies get that kind of attention or advantage. Plus, if I recall correctly, you also bought into Pinkie’s hysteria for a while.”
Twilight blushed. “It was a misunderstanding.”
“That’s always how it starts. Add some gossip, a vicious rumor, a hint of stereotyping for flavor, and you have a recipe for an environment where a herd that often follows a strong figure on instinct can easily turn on others.”
“Let’s not forget how the Thestrals were treated before Luna came to them,” Pensword added. “And they’re Ponies, too.”
“But … but we’re better than that,” Twilight said.
“Better than where you began, perhaps,” Vital said. “But as much as I hate to admit it, Grif has a point. Equestria still has a way to go to overcome some of its more negative behaviors.”
Twilight’s face took on an expression not unlike that of a wounded puppy.
“There, there, Twilight,” Rarity reassured as she patted the Alicorn’s back. “Progress always takes time. I mean, look at me, for example. My first dresses and costumes seem positively amateur to me now. The important thing is to be patient and lead by example. Hammer Strike rules that way, and look how much New Unity has grown because of it.”
“I just hate to think that we’re still like that.”
“Then think of a way to change it, Princess,” the Doctor cut in. “You’re a clever girl. You’ll figure it out.”
“Doctor, are you actually … being nice to me?”
“Let’s call it … neutral observant.”
Twilight sniffled and smiled weakly. “I’ll take it.”
The Doctor turned to attend to the TARDIS’ console just in time to hide the hint of a smile that pulled at his lips.
‘Another surgery’, Hammer Strike thought to himself with some frustration. ‘Likelihood being around ninety-five percent.’
He frowned at the thought. Something didn’t feel right to him.
‘Likelihood of something going wrong, about ten percent.’
‘Concept; Alicorns likely implanted something within my head. Appears to be some sort of module dedicated toward analytics, leaning toward predictions.
He growled as he scratched his head. “Likelihood being eight-five … Ninety-five percent,” he muttered to himself. “Analytics leaning toward this being accurate.”
He growled to himself once more. His head was already packed with a constant stream of information from the first thing they did to him. Now he was sitting on top of more information. Some part of his head was constantly crunching numbers as he thought on the outcome to things.
Likelihood of the Alicorns checking in on him: Thirty-two percent.
Likelihood of failures in the alterations: Twenty-four percent.
Likelihood of the Alicorns caring: Zero.
There was a small shift in noise above him, leading him to glance up at the observation room to find two alicorns up top. One familiar scientist, and a new one.
They didn’t say a word to him, simply observed and wrote notes, eighty-five percent chance of them being entirely about him, fifteen percent toward it being a mixed bag with an addition of chatting non-verbally.
Chance of Hammer Strike having a chance at them, five percent. He finished that calculation with a heavy sigh.
Hammer Strike muttered to himself as he stared at the collective groups. Ever since they placed in the prediction module or whatever it was in his head, he’d been muttering analytics mostly to himself. However, others happened to catch on, and despite all of them not knowing or understanding who he was, they would ask him questions on things to see what he thought.
Whatever they asked him, based on his knowledge, he was able to give them a rough percentage on how things would go, and as it turned out, he was pretty damn accurate.
Chance of testing based on previous scheduling for the Pegasi? Roughly eighty percent, based off the schedule.
Chance of surgery based on the current outlook, about five tests in already on an earth Pony? Thirty-five percent.
“Chance of escape for a Gryphon male with equipment that formed some form of basic defense and adept in speed? Zero percent.”
It was at this point that Hammer Strike realized he had been automatically answering questions asked of him and of situations he was hearing in the background.
And the Gryphon planning his escape, as it turns out, was not deaf.
The Gryphon's head turned to him in a very bird-like fashion, and glared at him with sharp predatory eyes. “What was that, Pony?”
“Your chance of escape with your current p-p-plan will result in failure,” Hammer Strike replied simply.
“And how in the nine hells would you know?” he growled.
“Previous attempts at escape from a G-g-gryphon has resulted in the same outcome. You all f-fail to take into account the number of Alicorns in your path, and have a body count lower than you like to brag about.” Hammer Strike frowned.
“And how the hell would you know that, Earthwalker?” the Gryphon asked, rising to his full stature.
“Because out of all the p-p-prisoners and test subjects here, I hold the highest body count. You all remark of things that make no sense in terms of fighting multiple Alicorns, despite bragging that you’ve ‘fought at least ten at once.’” Hammer Strike’s posture was still relaxed as he looked to the Gryphon.
A powerful blast of wind slammed into Hammer Strike and dissipated as the gryphon growled threateningly.
“Probability of walking out of this unharmed is rapidly dropping for you,” Hammer Strike replied as a smile began to form. “Such a pathetic display,” he growled out.
The Gryphon roared and charged at Hammer Strike, slashing out with his talons.
Everything went into effect as Hammer Strike sidestepped the Gryphon with ease. “Probability of you walking out of this unharmed? Zero percent.” His grin grew. “Probability of it hurting?” He dropped under the Gryphon mid-swipe and struck him in the chest, effectively launching the prisoner up and back away from him. “One hundred.”
“Well, that escalated quickly.” Grif sighed.
“Hammer Strike’s had enough. In short, he no longer gives a buck,” Vital said.
“Let's hope he starts again soon,” Grif noted.
“That … would likely require time to actually recuperate,” Pensword noted. “Time that I doubt they’ll give him.”
Rarity was busy consuming Derpy’s latest batch of muffins to keep from collapsing into a sobbing mess.
Vital winced as he watched one of Hammer Strike’s hooves connect with his opponent. “Ooh. That’s gonna leave a mark. And … maybe a permanent impression.”
“He’s going to kill him,” Grif stated matter-of-factly.
“Well, given how your culture treated Equines over the years, it may be the only way for him to earn their respect, regardless. Not that it makes it any easier to watch.”
“He’d have killed him anyway.”
“Must you, Grif?” Rarity asked. Her eyes were puffy, though her liner and makeup skills had done much to obscure the bloodshot eyes.
“In a way, yes,” Grif stated. “Never leave an enemy alive to attack you, no matter how pathetic. That’s a motto I and Hammer Strike have shared for years. The minute that Gryphon attacked, he signed his death warrant.”
“Does it … help? Talking about it like this, I mean?” she asked.
“It helps you understand,” Grif said. “That’s the thinking that keeps you alive in a fight or on a battlefield. This is what you need to be ready for.”
“Do you … always think like that, then?”
“Rarity, I have a way to kill almost everyone I have ever met already planned,” Grif stated. “Hammer Strike and our current host being the main exceptions.”
“And Hammer Strike, too?”
“I know he plans things out to the smallest detail,” Vital said. “Killing? Usually he saves that for when there’s no other alternative. Though I have seen some contingency plans for that in some of his files.”
“I … see.” Rarity turned and stared unerringly at the screen again. The light flickered ghostlike over her eyes as her forelegs wrapped around a pillow for comfort.
Hammer Strike growled as he knocked the Gryphon back once again. The guards were active and seemed to be preparing to stop the fight. He couldn’t let that happen. There was a sixty-seven percent chance that the Gryphon would get reinforcements for the next fight, and he wasn’t going to accept that.
Hammer Strike’s expression turned serious as he created a wall of aer around the Gryphon, halting their movement.
The Gryphon said nothing, heavily wounded as he was he was and struggling to hold up.
“Our fight was short. And honestly?” The guards chose that moment to attempt to enter the ground. Hammer Strike simply raised a hoof to one side of his throat. “You weren’t even worth the effort.” He finished, crossing his throat with his hoof.
Onlookers watched as the Gryphon stopped struggling, and in fact, stopped any form of functioning. Blood slowly appeared on his neck before the head shifted and slid off to the side.
It was at this point that heavy restraints appeared around Hammer Strike before he was suddenly dragged quickly out of the room. His smile had left him, and all he could feel was disappointment.
The Gryphons watched in utter shock. Up until this time, they’d believed Ponies to be less developed beings. While they didn’t take them to test on, like the Alicorns, they tended to ignore them. To see one of their own defeated so easily was highly unsettling.
An alicorn stood tall amongst two guards. “I would advise you to clean up that mess,” he commented. His voice was deep and clear. His glowing eyes looked over the guards and the corpse. Onlookers noted the Alicorn was very tall, and clearly had more authority than most, but found him to be strangely straightforward. It wasn’t a standard Alicorn, however, as it lacked any form of cutie mark. Instead, it bared an insignia of a shield over a singular blade. This was no Alicorn. This was a heavy-class android guard.
The dreaded hammer lay dead on the floor with its shaft pointing toward the containment chamber’s ceiling. The barrier sizzled with the continuous flow of extra mana pumping through it as a full twenty guards cast in unison. The chamber had been layered with their latest experimental alloy to endure the potential blows that could come from the infernal artifact at any moment, and hopefully disperse the kinetic force, rather than taking it all at once.
“I want to know what magic is binding this artifact to that creature, and I want to know now.” The snarl was a far cry from the condescending tone the scientist had used when they first acquired the hammer.
“Sir, perhaps it’s time to take it to him?” one subordinate suggested yet again.
“I told you, we’re not going to rely on that pompous, overbearing, shortsighted—!”
“FIDELIUS BURNS!”
The scientist whinnied in surprise as the room lit up with a series of magical sigils that created a large magical circle. A few moments later, the projected image of a charcoal stallion with a flowing black mane and a bright red horn towered over the gathering.
“C-councilman Industria.” Fidelius bowed to the projection. “What brings you to our humble halls?”
“As the chief scientific officer of our empire, the council has designated it my responsibility to address certain … anomalies that have arisen with Doctor Bright’s latest guinea pig. Your team has struggled to control and even divine the origins of a certain artifact that has chosen, for whatever reason, to bond with this base creature. I’ve read your reports, and am aware of your theory as to a divine blessing. Such magics are exceptionally potent and lie under the scope of more ancient and arcane methods of craftsmanship. As such, it is the will of the council that you surrender possession of the artifact in question to one Andre the Smith.” The projection’s gaze narrowed. “This is not open for debate. You will have the weapon transported to his forge within the next twenty-four hours. Do I make myself clear?”
Fidelius grit his teeth and bore them in a gruesome pantomime of a smile. “Of course, Lord Industria. It shall be as the council wills.”
“Good. And Fidelius?”
“Yes, Councilman?”
“We’ll be watching.”
The air crackled with Fidelius’ magic as the projection faded. His forehead throbbed with rage as he hissed quietly. “Prepare the artifact for transport.”
“So, you brought it to me.” Andre’s voice was rough and low. He was an abnormally large Alicorn, charcoal grey in coloration with a long swept-back white mane that connected to a long beard. A few scars were notable across his face.
“It was the council’s will,” Fidelius noted mildly. “They wish to understand the artifact’s nature as soon as possible. And this particular magic requires more … experienced hooves to delve.” He barely managed to suppress the grimace, though his face did twinge.
Andre hummed to himself as he looked over the hammer. “Well, you at least gave me a decent project this time, compared to previous times.”
“The council requests that you sever the bond it has with its current wielder, if at all possible, so that we may better analyze its internal spell structure.”
“We’ll see how things go before you start with the demands,” Andre replied flatly. “Give me some time to study it down first. Then you can start making requests.”
“Of course,” Fidelius acquiesced. “We’re aware such a powerful artifact will take time for proper study.”
“Is there anything else?”
“Not at this time. Though the Board of Development is still waiting on your granddaughter’s latest physical. Would you mind contacting your daughter, so we can schedule an appointment?”
“I’ll get around to it.” Andre sighed. “Now, I’ve got work to do, and you’re still sitting here in my workshop.”
Fidelius’ brow twitched. “Pleasure seeing you, too, Sir Andre.”
“You’re a horrible liar.”
“I’m a scientist, not a politician.” Fidelius shrugged, then strode up the old stone stairs without another word.
“Still piss-poor at it either way.”
Hammer Strike stared at his cell wall. The same thing, over and over and over again. Day in, and day out, his schedule was down to mark.
Surgery every so often, at minimum within five test sessions. A test session every two weeks. Placed in his containment cell with brief visits of scientists to take notes on him. Yard time, nobody bothered him, but if they did, it was always brief.
New augments, new tests.
He felt himself drift, mind thinking on tasks, what to do, what he could do, anything to escape the reality in which he was stuck in.
“Get group five, subject’s eight through fifteen out here,” he heard a voice call out.
He shook his head. He couldn’t have heard that right. It made no sense. The Alicorns worked off a group system based off the year. He was a part of group eight, though, and it had only been roughly a year to two years.
Right?
“What was that?” Hammer Strike questioned aloud as he noticed the guards around him. He was walking. Yard time perhaps.
The guards looked down at him with flat stares before one of them sighed. “Simply calling out group five. Eyes forward.”
Hammer Strike furrowed his brow as he continued following them out into the yard. He took to his usual spot and stared out to the field once more. It took him a moment, but he finally began to actually notice that he recognized no one. There was not a single soul there he could name. All of them were complete strangers to him, but all of them kept their distance from him, most likely following the example of those who had come before.
He blinked a few times as he scanned over them all before turning toward himself. He was covered in scars he didn’t recognize. His body had definitely lost mass, though he still felt strong to a point. It appeared to be mostly body fat that he still had, though it definitely wasn’t healthy.
Just what had happened to him?
What happened to everyone else?
… How long had he been here?
Hammer Strike was brought back to reality suddenly and without warning. Usually, he would come back to after zoning out slowly, but this was sharp and abrupt. He was in his cell, and the room was eerily quiet. The light above flickered in a strange hue. The room felt cold, off even. He swept the room slowly, trying to figure out what was happening when just for a moment before him in the center of the room, there was a colt sitting with dark black eyes.
And then he vanished and the cell door swung ajar at the end of the cell.
Hammer Strike frowned as he stood from his position. It wasn’t the Alicorns. That much, he was sure of.
He blinked in confusion as he realized he wasn’t thinking in percentages, nor rapidly. Looking around the room one last time he didn’t notice anything quite off, nor right, about it.
If it was a test from the Alicorns, then screw it, he’d go for it just for this moment of silence. Once he reached the cell door, a walkway was revealed stretching in front of him. It looked perfectly normal, except that it only stretched out another ten feet, rather than the few hundred or so it normally did. The end was broken. The metal looked completely shorn off. The stone walls were shattered, and the chunks just floated in gray fog that seemed to go on for forever in all directions. Not far off, another piece of the Alicorns’ home floated along a narrow piece of walkway. Stone effigies of alicorns stood in mid step.
“What the hell’s going on?” he questioned aloud. “What kind of tests are they running on me now?”
“Welcome to the void, Hammer Strike.” A strange echoing, yet familiar voice spoke. Before Hammer Strike's eyes, a pony evaporated into being in front of him, the same black-eyed colt he’d seen in the cell. Only now he realized he looked familiar, aside from the black leather jacket he wore or his completely jet black eyes. Irises, scalera, the entire thing was inky blackness. But the figure was familiar.
“No.” Hammer Strike shook his head. “No, you’re not him. You are definitely not real. Just another one of those tests by the Alicorns. There’s no way.”
“The alicorns cannot touch me anymore, Hammer Strike. Their experiment succeeded, but not in the way they imagined. No one can see us here, not them, not your ever-present audience, not even the gods.”
Hammer Strike frowned as he thought on it and took in Distant’s appearance once more. He didn’t feel any additional observers anymore, true. Even in an illusion, he could feel them, but not now. “Are … it … is it really you, Distant?”
“Distant sight was my name in life, at least the name I knew. But I’m not that Pony anymore. I suppose I'd be closer to one of your embodiments, the embodiment of the void, the one who stands outside and looks in. You can call me the outsider.”
“Outsider…” Hammer Strike muttered for a moment. “What happened?”
Outsider waved his hoof, and in an instant Hammer Strike and he stood in another floating section, a large room where several Alicorns stood around in a circle with runes carved into the room around them glowing bright. In the center, a stone Alicorn was bringing a knife to a stone effigy of Distant’s throat. “In this spot, they killed me, and I became like a god,” he explained.
“A ritual of sorts,” Hammer Strike muttered. “So, they dabble in everything.”
“I have a gift for you,” The Outsider told Hammer Strike as the Earth Pony felt a burning on his left side near his cutie mark. “I give you my mark. There are forces in this world that have been awakened to me, forces more powerful and strange then most magic. These forces will now serve you.”
“Forces of the void?”
“In a way, but you have nothing to fear from my power. These forces have no will of their own. They seek only to accomplish what you want,” The Outsider assured him. “Do with them what you will.”
“But what can it—?” He looked up and found himself seated in his cell once more. The noise of information filled his mind, but not so loudly as it used to. Looking back at his cutie mark, he noted the new addition mark was still there.
And up on the wall it sat, dead center, surrounded by a cacophony of notes he assumed he wrote himself thaumically.
That meeting really did happen...?
Terra Galaxia frowned as she peered over the information tablet. Her fur was the color of sand, her mane a long brown with bright green tips tied into a bun behind her ears. A pair of sharp needles held the style in place as she scrolled through the data. “So, let me get this straight. The council wants me to stay assigned to this project for the foreseeable future because we ‘lost’ some of our staff. We haven’t been performing tests to try creating artificial lifeforms again, have we?”
“Not quite,” a familiar maneless Alicorn muttered. “One of the test subjects had an incident, and it resulted in our ‘displacement’ of staff.”
She raised a brow. “And you thought I would be the best fit, why?”
“The subject has gone ‘inert’ and seems to keep to itself now, and we lack staff. You have the qualifications needed to assist, so you were moved to the position,” he replied simply. “Be sure to study the list of subjects before you start,” he finished as he gave a nod and exited the office.
Terra rolled her eyes. “I swear, if they’re doing this as some way to get back at Father—hello, what’s this?” She peered curiously at the manifest. Most of the subjects listed were either deceased or slotted for experimentation. However, one in particular had been listed by a separate group number. “Are you supposed to be our anomaly, then?” She selected the subject and her eyes widened as his profile scrolled on. And on. And on. “Bonnie’s teats,” she swore. “How are you still even alive?” She continued to scroll through the subject’s bio, until she discovered yet another novelty. Who better to consult with over an anomaly of this magnitude than the immortal genius who had apparently helped operate himself? A few taps later, a disinterested stallion peered at her screen.
“This is Bright.”
“Doctor Bright, I’m calling to consult with you about one of your previous patients, an Earth Pony with a large number of scars and a torn ear?”
“Ah, eight-twenty.” Bright nodded.
“I just wanted to make certain these entries are correct. Just how many surgeries has he been put through?”
“Hold on a second.” Dr. Bright’s image flickered for a few moments. “All right, now we’re no longer tapped,” he said. “Terra, eight-twenty has been a test subject for seven years. You know what the average survival of a subject is?”
Terra frowned her disapproval. “Given how sadistic some of the tests can be, anywhere from less than a week to maybe three months at best.”
“In your recent training, did they ever tell you details about what most experiments involve, exactly? What subjects are put through?”
“You should know they don’t, Doctor. I wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for the missing personnel, who I’m certain are far from misplaced.”
“They’re dead,” Bright stated simply. “A few years ago, eight-twenty’s cellmate eight-fifteen was killed in a project named Veil Blade performed by the Arcane Sciences Department. His death was not an accident. While most of my colleagues don’t care to find out such details, eight-twenty and eight-fifteen were close friends. They’d developed a comradery of sorts in their suffering. The news of eight-fifteen’s death was given to eight-twenty in a blunt and careless fashion, and he turned out to be much stronger in his rage than we were aware. I’d ask your father for details. He’d likely have a better idea than I would.”
Terra’s gaze narrowed. “Are you saying he has something to do with what’s been happening here?”
“You’ve been made aware that test subjects are acquired outside the city. What you haven’t been made aware of is that eight-twenty was acquired ... differently.”
“Define differently.”
“Several years ago, a project was put into motion to create a time window, so our ‘glorious leaders’ could look into the future of our race. The project only half succeeded. We saw a future, but what was seen was buildings in disrepair with no obvious signs of life. And then eight-twenty fell through the window. He … reacted violently, killing at least four of those present at the time. The thing was, he had something with him.” While she didn’t know its name, a projection of Ulkrusher rose from her tablet. “This is anomaly eight-twenty-1. As you may recognize by its shape, it is a weapon known as a warhammer. However, we have been unable to determine who made it, what they made it from, or what its runic magics mean. What we do know is subject eight-twenty can call it into his hoof without massive magical prevention, and that while it reacts badly to anyone else, eight-twenty can use it to crush our armor like clay.”
The doctor cleared his throat. “Do not assume that I am saying eight-twenty is dangerous on his own,” Bright continued. “My personal observations, in fact, say that he may not be prone to violence as a first reaction.”
“I assume that’s why you suggested I speak with my father,” Terra noted. “Do I have access to the subject’s security footage and medical recordings?”
“Normally, no.” Bright shook his head. “And if you ever tell anyone I gave you access, I’ll deny it.”
Terra peered speculatively at the stallion. “All right, I’ll bite. Why are you doing this?”
“Because as someone who’s lived long enough to see myself become the villain, I've been a bit disillusioned to what our leaders believe we represent. Have you ever wondered why, if we have such a mantle of responsibility, we’ve never extended a hoof to the so-called ‘lesser’ races?”
“You know what happened to the last people who tried.”
“Oh? What? What did they tell you happened to them?”
“They didn’t. That’s the point.”
“And you never questioned that?”
“Let’s say I knew better than to question aloud. I may be from an old family, but I’m not stupid.”
“Then maybe it’s time you did some finding out in secret,” Dr. Bright said. “You have access to everything relevant to what's going on. Read it and start asking your own questions.” With that, Doctor Bright’s image vanished.
Terra was careful to watch for cameras as she looked over the new data. Her jaw nearly dropped at the sight and size of the files loading for this one subject alone. She steeled herself and scrolled to the first. “All right, Eight-twenty, let’s see what you have to show me.”
Hammer Strike frowned to himself as he shook his head. He was zoning out again, and he needed to fix that. He already made that mistake once, and now he felt in an even more alien situation than he was beforehand. At least before he knew a couple of faces, but now it was a clean slate.
Looking over the other groups, he noted there were more Unicorns in this mix than normal. If they were testing indiscriminately, it would be an even mix, at least by probability.
But that wasn’t the thing bothering him at the moment. It felt like someone was focused on him, and yet there were none from the groups actively looking in his direction. Even the few Gryphon prisoners kept to themselves. The Alicorn guards seemed to glance over all their prisoners with little care, meaning it wasn’t them.
As he scanned the windows, he finally came across one of the scientists staring directly at him. She didn’t avert her gaze immediately as he noticed, but eventually she shifted her attention to the tablet in her telekinetic hold. He kept his observation on her to focus as she drifted from the tablet back to him repeatedly.
He raised a brow quizzically. For what reason would another scientist have to focus on him? He already had three watching over him at this point. Or was it potentially more? He pondered with a frown, directing his attention back forward. He kept her in his peripheral vision, and made no further direct focus on her.
He sighed as the guards slowly filtered into the yard and began moving subjects back to their containment cells.
The air reverberated with the sound of an extra set of hooves. He didn’t bother looking back. The hesitant gait could have been another guard or some other resident of the labs. Given the distance and care the gait suggested, it was likely the latter. It didn’t take long to arrive in his cell again. A brusque shove and the heavy thump of the door sealing shut was all he had.
Up on the second floor, Terra peered at the subject once again. The marks from the initial surgeries were easy enough to spot. She hadn’t been prepared for just how extensive the scarring on the stallion’s hide would be. The location and specifications of the leash chip at the top of his spinal column was clearly outlined in the pad, and the lump on his neck confirmed the record. “That kind of shock should have killed you,” she muttered to herself in disbelief. “How are you still breathing?”
Hammer Strike directed his attention toward Terra upon her speaking.
Terra hastily backed away from the glass with tablet levitating by her side. The subject was supposed to be despondent. In all the time others had observed him, he’d never looked up. The odds of his breaking that pattern without some form of stimuli were exceedingly remote. But the odds of his hearing her through the glass, when muttering no less, were even more so. How could such a thing be? And yet, logic dictated that when all other possibilities were eliminated, the remaining one, however remote or unlikely, must be true. If such were the case….
She hastily pulled up a search algorithm and checked for anything to do with the subject’s auditory receptors. No matches appeared. The only way to verify the possibility was to experiment. And given Doctor Bright’s analysis, it seemed the worst she could expect from the subject would be a lack of response. At least, she hoped that was the worst she could expect. She approached the glass one more time. The Pony hadn’t moved. She took a deep breath, engaged the speakers to listen in on the cell, braced herself, then spoke in the tongue of the creatures. “Can you … hear me?”
Hammer Strike stared at her for a moment, before sighing. “Yes.”
“That … shouldn’t be possible.” She paused briefly. “Then again, from what I understand, impossibility seems to be a foreign concept to you.” She swallowed. “I … haven’t been here long. But a mutual acquaintance helped me to learn about you to an extent. If half of what I’ve read thus far is true….” She averted her gaze. “I’m … not sure how you’re able to go on the way you have. It should be biologically impossible. But, I suppose you probably don’t even know what I’m talking about. Or … do you?”
“I have been given enough ‘lessons’ from your kind.” Hammer Strike directed his attention to the door. “Do not m-mistake me for a fool, l-like you all seem so inclined to believe.”
That was … unexpected. The lack of any form of fear was understandable, given what had occurred with his previous state, but the bluntness and sheer rigidity of his words was almost robotic in its venom. Still, the chance to analyze his mind could prove useful in more ways than one. “What should I take you for, then, if you had the choice to decide?”
Hammer Strike’s attention was once again redirected back to Terra. He looked her over for a moment before frowning and muttering to himself. “Unlikely, potentially doing a test. Likelihood at approximately forty percent. Chance of it being a trap of some kind, approximately ten … fifteen percent.” He redirected his attention back to her once again. “Whatever you so choose.”
Terra frowned. The calculations were accurate, but why would he speak them aloud? The reply had seemed simple at first glance, but on further analysis revealed a complex philosophical outlook and a potential value of another’s freedom to choose. Whoever and whatever this Pony was, he had a firm set of morals. That, or he simply didn’t care. It would require more study to be certain. Though if they were experimenting with a new stabilizer, she would need to make a note of a potential failure in the device. That would explain the stream of thought and lack of emotion the subject demonstrated. She drew up the search on her tablet again and frowned when the screen went blank. “No. This has to be a mistake,” she muttered to herself. Then she returned her gaze to the subject. “There are some anomalies I need to investigate. Would you be willing to,” she cleared her throat. “To talk again when I return?”
Hammer Strike hummed. “Forty percent.”
Terra nodded and flicked off the audio switch. “Those are odds I’m willing to accept.” She left without another word, but a strange twinge of foreboding and anxiety pulled at her chest. Was this a premonition, guilt? She shook her head. To consider such a thing would be ridiculous. He was a test subject, after all.
And then Dr. Bright’s words returned like a vengeful spirit.
Have you ever wondered why, if we have such a mantle of responsibility, we’ve never extended a hoof to the so-called ‘lesser’ races?
Terra’s pace quickened to a canter.
The journey to Doctor Wile’s office was a short one, thanks in part to her haste and the added perk of being able to fly wherever she wished within the city. The doctor’s office was meticulously cleaned and filled only with the barest essentials. Metal formed the smooth edged facets of all the furniture, and a set of basic surgical implements had been mounted to a wall between a series of digital projections verifying the stallion’s certification in his field. It hadn’t taken long for his secretary to let her in, and the light reflected off the bald patch on top of his head.
“I apologize for the lack of an appointment, Doctor, but it seems that I must have gotten a hold of a corrupted file somehow. And given the test subject concerned with said file, I wanted to come by your office to rectify the error immediately.”
“Corrupted in what way?” Wile questioned.
“Namely that it appears a file must be missing.”
Wile seemed confused for a moment. “I’ll have to look into it then, but if you don’t mind me asking, how do you know it’s missing a file?”
“I’ve recently been assigned to the team overseeing one of your more prominent test subjects, number Eight-Twenty. His file is most extensive, and his resilience astonishing, but I noticed a lack of an entry for a stabilizer mod. Given the fact the subject is still breathing and functioning, I assume the file detailing the surgery must have either been misplaced, corrupted, or accidentally deleted.”
“Oh, no, that’s correct,” he confirmed. “Subject Eight-Twenty lacks any form of stabilizer.”
“Then how is he still alive?”
“That’s the thing.” He leaned forward. “There is no way it should be able to function, and yet it manages to keep active and mostly functional. Of course, it goes through a few issues of mental disengagement at times, but other than that, it’s functional with over ten augments attached to its brain.”
“That many?”
“More than that, but admittedly, I’ve started to lose count,” he replied with a smile. “We’ve kept it around to see how many it can manage before it gives out. We’ve got a few more lined up soon, now that I think about it.”
“At once or separate?”
“Separate. We can’t risk our machine pushing it too far in between ‘resting’ periods.”
“I see. We’ll make sure to keep detailed notes on his behavior and overall function for you, then.” She nodded and rose from her seat. “Thank you for helping to clarify the situation, Doctor. Should I expect to see much of you at Eight-Twenty’s observation deck in the near future?”
“No. While I find it interesting, the constant muttering and such gets on my nerves.”
“Fair enough.” She nodded. “Goodbye, Doctor.” She managed to keep her calm until she was a goodly distance away from the building before she dropped the mask and grit her teeth.
This wasn’t science. This was cruelty.
Hammer Strike grunted as he was abruptly shoved into an experimental containment cell. It was sealed from top to bottom with an airlock-style door. The only two additional sites he could notice was an observation window on the side of the chamber and an additional airlock system to transport something into the room.
This was not like any other test they had put him through. Sure, he had done combat tests, intelligence tests, and even magical tests, but nothing put him in a room like this. It was completely cordoned off, and every part of the prediction module in his head screamed analytics of danger and potentially hazardous material.
The airlock hummed for a moment and then hissed as something poured into the airlock. At first look, Hammer Strike thought it was a thick liquid of some kind. It was black and shiny and constantly moving. And then, all at once, it separated into two globs. Both masses proceeded to lift themselves off the ground on four long tentacles with pointed ends. They resemble four-legged spiders in a way as they moved and skittered about.
Hammer Strike’s stance shifted as he studied the two creatures. They definitely weren’t normal. Something about them screamed unnatural. Looking back into the observation chamber, he noted his two usual scientists staring back at him and the creatures.
After a few moments, the doors hissed louder as they opened, and the creatures entered the room with Hammer Strike. They skittered in quickly with jittery movements and circled around him, as if sizing him up.
After several seconds, one lunged at him from the front. He punched at it, only for it to stick to his hoof as its tentacles wrapped around his foreleg and he felt energy being drawn. Before he could react, the second jumped on his upper back from behind. Tentacles wrapped around his neck and front leg joints tightly as it, too, began to draw.
Up in the observation room one of the Alicorns made a mark on his clipboard. “Should only be a few moments now,” she commented.
“Um, … ma’am, I’m not so certain.”
“Out of a hundred test subjects, we’ve had no survivors. Why should this end differently?”
“Because the experiments are, um, screaming, Ma’am.”
As they looked on, Hammer Strike had coated his body in blue flames. This had not worked as he had hoped as the creatures seemed to also coat in blue flames with a shriek and kept feeding from off his energy.
He began to panic. It wasn’t normal for things to adjust to him at this level, going so far as to adapt to his fire. As he scanned over the creatures, he finally took note of a small thread coming off them, something similar to the hive mind link for changelings. After a brief moment of scanning it, he latched onto the energy and broke it as quickly as he could. The resulting chaos of the link was notable as they suddenly snapped to himself, and he felt as though another consciousness attached itself to him.
As he grunted in frustration he yelled, “Get off of me!”
Instantly, they were off, skittering a few feet away from him and just … waiting.
Hammer Strike huffed, exhausted at the exertion and the amount of energy they had taken from him. What did he do? Why were they listening to him now?
The Alicorns looked down, utterly shocked as the mimics seemed to show deference to the Pony.
“What do we do now?” the subordinate asked.
“We need to get the subjects separated,” the other scientist said. “Quickly.”
Hammer Strike shook his head as he came back to. He was standing inside the surgery ward. The two Alicorns were off to the side near the cabinet conversing over something, but something didn’t feel right to him.
They weren’t looking at him. The guard wasn’t even bothered to focus on him.
And a black-robed alicorn stood off to his right.
It was at this point that he realized something was definitely wrong, and looked to the surgery table. Rather than an empty spot, he watched as the machine above finished up it’s work on him. The heart rate monitor had flatlined, and he finally realized that he had died in the process of the surgery.
But that couldn’t be right. Based off history, he still had plenty to do, meaning that something had to intervene.
“I’m sorry,” a softer feminine voice echoed in his head.
“No, you’re not. It’s part of the job,” he replied simply.
“Doesn’t mean i can’t be sorry about it,” she returned. “Yours was a hard end.”
“Not quite an end just yet.” He scanned over a few things around him. “So, you’re the Death before. Didn’t think I’d get to meet you. An Alicorn, no less.”
“It wasn’t my choice, for what it’s worth. I regret what we’ve become”
He sighed. “I believe it.” He gave a faint smirk. “After all, I bet they give you lots of work.”
“You have no idea. I hope whoever is set to judge you shows you the kindness you deserve.” She produced a scroll and began going through it.
“You won’t find me on there,” Hammer Strike replied simply.
“Everybody is in here,” she retorted.
“Then find me.” he gave a cocky smile. “The name’s Hammer Strike.”
“Well. It looks like you found one corner you couldn’t squirm out of,” a voice spoke as a tall white-furred Alicorn mare appeared. Her mane and tail were constantly shimmering different colors in the light, making it hard to determine their actual coloring.
“Once again, best of luck to you in that regard,” Hammer Strike replied as he shrugged. “Not quite dead. Not yet.”
“Doesn’t matter if she finds you or not. You’re already disconnected from your body.”
“Your point? I’ve done this before.” He shrugged once again before frowning. “I refuse to give in so easily.”
“You really think you have a choice now?” Destiny chuckled.
“You just don’t know it yet.”
She poked her hoof in his chest. “Your body is dead. How are you going to counter that?”
Hammer Strike’s tone shifted as Destiny continued to poke him. Thaumic energy surrounded his form, both body and soul, as he knocked her hoof away before rearing his foreleg back and punching with as much force as he could muster in his current state.
Destiny found herself tumbling backward and hitting the back wall of the surgery ward. She let out an angry growl.
“I’m not dead just yet, and I refuse to let someone like you try to get the best of me,” Hammer Strike growled as fire began to lick off his spiritual body. “You will not find me in Death’s list, nor will you be the one to bring me down!” he yelled defiantly.
There was a jerking sensation, followed by darkness. His mortal eyes snapped open, and light beamed into his vision as his field merged with his body once again. The flames roared out of his body and seared his wounds shut as the binds around him burned away and snapped off. His mind was filled with information all at once as everything screamed errors, only for the hammering in his ears to drown it all out.
The Alicorn scientists had fled the room, Destiny as well. Death stood farther off to the side, no longer looking to her list.
“This is above my paygrade.” She sighed and rolled up her list.
Hammer Strike was losing himself again. Anger and pain flooded his mind as he lashed out at anything and everything near him until he finally started to pound at the door keeping him locked away. Electricity arced off his neck as they tried using the leash. He was in agony, but every part of him was quite literally fighting for his life.
After a few well-placed blows, the door burst open, and he forced himself out of the room. He saw red as he lashed out at the nearby scientists before too much electricity flooded his body, and his limbs went numb. He hit the ground with a heavy thud before several darts were applied to him from a range, sedating him.
Hammer Strike’s breathing was jittery as he came to in his cell. His pain was still present from the operation, but he didn’t have the luxury of any form of pain relief. He shuddered to himself. “Body is in correct alignment. N-nothing out of place, from what I can tell. Perhaps the issue is due to the quick patchwork nature of my healing,” he muttered, trying to think of anything else.
“Work involved internal structure, my skeleton in particular. Unsure of the process or what was done. Probability of something wrong being in the range of twenty to thirty-five percent…”
He shuddered.
“I can’t keep this up,” he finished, sighing. “Too many unknowns. Too many situations that bring me close to death.”
“You’re alive.” The whisper was explosive, filled with that hint of desperation that leaves a mist of relief in its wake. “Thank Faust.”
As much as Hammer Strike wanted to shift and put himself on guard, he couldn’t bring himself to. He was in too much pain for sudden shifts, so instead he looked over to the observation window to find a familiar Alicorn once more.
“I don’t have much time. They’ll be watching my movements,” she said. “I have to make this seem as impassive as possible, but I had to see you.” His ears heard the distinct tapping of keys followed by the digital tone of some sort of process. “That should keep them from hearing us, though it won’t last long.”
Hammer Strike squinted his eyes as he tried to figure out what this Alicorn was after. She disabled their audio systems? For what reason would she have, unless… “Probability of trap, twenty percent,” he muttered to himself.
“I can’t free you, so there’s no chance of me setting a trap, regardless.” She sighed. “I’ve reviewed your file, seen what they … what we’ve done. I can’t make any guarantees, but I’ll try to convince the scientists to back off on the surgeries. You’re right about one thing. Your body can’t take much more.” Again, the rapid tapping. “Look, my time is almost up, but there’s one more thing I’d like to ask you. That is, … if you’re willing to let me.”
He couldn’t fully comprehend what she was after. Was this some other kind of test on him, psychological in nature? His eyes shifted from left to right as he scanned the room once again before settling on her once more with a raised brow.
“Who are you? What’s your real name?”
“...Group eight, subject twenty?”
“Damn it, you know that’s not what I mean,” she hissed.
While Hammer Strike was wary of her, he frowned and decided it couldn’t come back at him in a negative way. “... Hammer Strike.”
“Thank you. I’ll be back, Hammer Strike. And to return the token, my name is Terra, Terra Galaxia. Until next time.” The clatter of her retreating hoofbeats soon faded away the farther she ran from the observation glass.
The name felt important for some reason, but it escaped Hammer Strike why. Though, it was honestly the first time he had really heard an Alicorn’s name, whether it was real or not. He frowned to himself once more as he tried to contemplate why she was acting this way.
“Probability of trap … five percent?” he muttered, uncertain for the first time in a very long time.
“Is there really no way at all to reach out to him? Surely, there must be some means of communication at the very least, if you can’t take us there directly,” Rarity pleaded with the brown stallion as he laid on a wheeled board and fiddled with his hooves under the console.
“That's not how this technology works,” the Doctor explained.
“Why not?” She stamped her hoof. “If it can do all these other amazing things, punch holes through dimensions, survive in these … worm holes, then why can’t it have a device capable of at least transmitting a message?”
“Because it’s not magic!” the doctor looked upon Rarity with not the full force of his glare, but a good deal of it. “What we’re seeing has already happened. It’s the past. In order to communicate with it, we'd need to be behind it, which we cannot do for enough time to make a difference. The only other way we could contact him would require him to call us first, and while I’m not convinced the Alicorns didn’t have what he’d need, I am certain they’re not going to let him get ahold of it.”
Rarity’s lip trembled as she struggled to hold back the imminent breakdown. “I’m not sure how much more of this I can take.”
A fluffy gray wing laid over Rarity’s back like a blanket as Derpy stood next to her. “I know it’s hard to watch.” She nuzzled her. “I had to watch my daddy die. I didn’t have friends to watch with me or help me then.” A purple wing soon joined from the other side. “At least Twilight and I can do that for you. And on the bright side, he’ll make it through this. We know he does, and he’ll be so happy to see you again when we finally do see him.”
Rarity clutched to Derpy’s shoulder and broke down in jerking sobs. “When will it end? I can’t … I can’t….” The rest was lost as a flood of tears cascaded in jets from either eye.
“And there’s the purge,” Vital whispered to his friends as he levitated a tool box to the waiting Doctor’s extended hoof.
“You know, Rarity, as bad as you feel, think about Celestia and Luna,” Grif stated.
“A cliche as old as time and still applicable in any era.” Vital sighed. “Fate, prophecy, fixed points, whatever you want to call it. Some things have to happen for the proper future to form. The guilt and anxiety those two are carrying around must be enormous.”
“All this, and he hasn't even met them yet,” Grif agreed.
“But such is the burden of leadership at times.” Pensword shook his head and scrunched his face in distaste. “It’s an aspect I don’t look forward to reliving.”
“Hammer Strike’s a warrior.” Grif patted the mare’s back reassuringly. “He’ll get through this.”
This brought on another fresh bout of waterworks at the Mare’s appreciation for the party’s sympathy and understanding.
“Um, should I maybe … get a couple of buckets or something?” Vital asked.
“Doesn’t make sense,” Hammer Strike muttered to himself. His cell was darkened, meaning night had finally fallen on the empire once more. “Probability of tests are still within eighty percent. Why did she t-try to assure me that I’d be fine?”
“Doesn’t make sense,” he continued. “No Alicorn shows compassion. Nothing they’ve done had led me to believe that statistic.” He frowned. “But why is she asking such strange questions?”
He shook his head slowly. “Doesn’t make sense. My name? Why ask for something so simple, while they already have a designation for me? Group Eight, Subject Twenty. That’s what I am to them. It’s w-what I’ll always be to them.” He looked up to find himself staring face to face with himself.
“What do I do?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” he responded.
“Probability of death increasing, mental stress is too much.”
“What do I do?”
His heart rate began increasing as he conversed with himself, his breathing slowly increasing in speed. “What do I do?”
“What I can.”
“Do what I always can do.”
“Suffer through it, live through it in spite of them.” He laid down on the floor.
“Live through the pain.”
“Suffer through it.”
“No hope.”
“What do I do?” he finished, placing his hooves over his ears as he fell silent.
“How is he?” Terra asked the technicians as she entered the observation deck.
“The subject appears to have retracted into itself. Its mind is likely approaching the point of a memory lock caused by a data loop from one of his implants.”
“Or you just broke him.”
“That is also a possibility we’ve noted,” the technician said.
Terra rolled her eyes. “Of course you did. Have any of you actually tried asking the subject directly about his history, his origins?”
“Why should it matter?”
“Because clearly, he’s been exposed to powerful magics that we have yet to comprehend. An in-depth analysis of his past might give us vital clues in that regard.” She sputtered and tossed her mane in frustration. “I’m surrounded by idiots. I’m going down there. Call the guards if you want.” She bowled her way past the stunned technician and his fellows and strode purposefully to the doors, where she met the guards waiting in power armor. She flashed her clearance. “Terra Galaxia. I’m here to interrogate the subject.”
“No one enters, Ma’am. Orders come straight from the top.”
“I understand the classification for testing, but we have yet to see how the subject will react to a different form of stimuli. I assure you, no harm will come to me, and the visit will be exceptionally short. This is merely a formality to see the extent of the subject’s mental capacity and if it’s still capable of receiving input. A few short questions and I’ll be done.”
“Ma’am.”
“I’ll explain to the council myself after I get my findings. Now move aside. You don’t want to see what happens to an Alicorn who gets in the way of my research.” A wicked grin spread over her face. “Why else do you think I was chosen to work under Doctor Bright and Doctor Wile in the first place?”
The guards gulped as they looked nervously between themselves and shuffled aside.
“Good. That wasn’t so hard now, was it?” The teeth retracted behind her lips, and her smile became far more pleasant. “Be back in a few.” She strolled through the doors and waited for them to shut behind her. It was the first time she had been in the same room with the stallion. She winced at the sight. The skin was drawn so tightly over his frame as to look practically translucent, or it would have, were it not for his fur. Were it not for her careful study of his file, she wouldn’t have been able to tell the difference between the implant cables and the veins that stood rigidly out from his body. His jaw seemed to be perpetually clenched as the occasional questioning mutter or statistic would pass his lips.
His eyes roamed left and right, seemingly not acknowledging her presence. Light pulsed softly as they directed power to other parts of his body.
“All right, let’s do this quickly and efficiently,” Terra said. Her horn flashed and the pair were surrounded by a thin veil of colorful magic. “We can speak freely now. They won’t hear what we’re saying. Can you hear me, Hammer Strike?” she asked.
His eyes suddenly lit up as his attention snapped over to her. After a second, he scanned the room over a few times before looking back at her. He didn’t say a word.
“You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to. Just listen. I have a plan to get you out of here.”
Hammer Strike’s expression shifted to confusion as he looked around again. It didn’t make sense to him.
“Look, I’m not claiming to be innocent in all this, but you’re the first subject in Alicorn history to have lived this long and endured these conditions without breaking down. It’s literally a miracle. It’s also a compelling case for people like me, … and Doctor Bright. You didn’t deserve this. I can’t free all of your Pony friends, but I can at least get you out of here, assuming I can get the council to approve my plan.”
“...You aren’t making sense.” Hammer Strike shook his head.
“Change of heart, awakening, revelation, call it what you want. It amounts to the same thing in the end. Our way of doing things, … it’s wrong. I can’t alter our laws, but I can at least help ease some of the suffering you’ve been forced to endure.” She turned back to the cell doors. “The next time you see me, you’ll be walking out of here.” Her brows furrowed together menacingly as the magic faded and the space returned to normal. “I swear it.”
The hall was suspiciously empty when she left, most likely as a result of the need to report, though it seemed odd that the relays in their helmets wouldn’t have allowed them to communicate with their commanding officers about her play. Perhaps they were going to get reinforcements. “Well, I’m not about to stand around and wait for that.” She shook her head and strode purposefully down the hall and out the building.
Rather than allow the council the chance to apprehend her, Terra decided to take the offensive and trot to the center of town, where the council and its various members awaited. The mare chose the direct course, taking a play from her father’s book by walking past guard and denizen alike. Neither power armor nor officious titles would spur her. Better to get the authorization straight from the horse’s mouth, as it were, with the highest authority possible.
The council chamber was round with a vaulted ceiling that curved to a single point high above. The floor had been synthesized to take on a design not unlike black marble laced with gold. A massive pentacle formed the core of the room. A grand table had been set in its center, with five chairs stationed in each of the star’s points to represent the aspect of the Alicorn’s office and power. The Ponies each gaped in astonishment at her as the holographic projection over the council table ran. Finally, one of them had the sense to dismiss the image while Terra strode confidently toward her target.
“Councilman Industria, members of the council, I apologize for my rudeness, but this couldn’t wait, and I wanted to get to the highest authority to cut through as much red tape as possible.”
The charcoal stallion raised a curious brow at the interloper, then glanced at his fellow members. “The council is always willing to hear from the Galaxias. What is it that could be of such great import as to require disrupting our latest war council?”
“I’ll be blunt with you. I want authorization to take Subject Eight-Twenty into my care, or rather the care of my family.”
“Out of the question,” Industria said simply.
“You didn’t let me finish. To put it simply, the creature shows evidence of advanced intelligence unlike those of the other subjects. It has also demonstrated feats that are well beyond the average capabilities of its fellows, including defying death itself without necromancy or any other magical means on record. Its implants have also provided it with a unique capability to process large amounts of data and learn on an augmented scale. In order to gain a full understanding of how it and its mods work, the best way to move the experiment forward is to give Eight-Twenty a chance to interact with stimuli other than pain and isolation.”
“The risk is still too high.”
“Are you suggesting that my family is incapable of subduing the subject on our own?”
“Given the fact it destroyed more than a dozen Alicorns bred specifically for the purpose of combat, yes,” an elderly stallion said. His mane was silvery-white, and his fur a dull gray. Rich hazel eyes stared impassively at her. “If it decides to escape, there is no chance that you or your father would be able to defeat it in combat. And then there’s the proximity to the weapon to consider.”
“A weapon that hasn’t been called even once since the last incident,” Terra countered. “The very definition of insanity is repeating the same action over and over and expecting a different result. We have been constantly putting subject Eight-Twenty’s body and mind under increasing stress to the point of nearly breaking him. You’ve seen the results of those efforts when he actually has snapped. Given the fact that we still haven’t found a means to kill him, why not allow me to try this alternative? If we fail, the responsibility can fall upon me and the family name that you all seem to despise so much. And if I succeed, then it grants us more valuable data about the subject’s capabilities and how we might replicate them. I believe that is what you would call a win-win. Wouldn’t you agree?”
“Your father agrees with you, and is willing to put his own reputation on this?” one of the other members asked.
“Surely, the council already knows that,” Terra countered. “Need you ask?”
“I say we allow it,” the council member said, smiling greedily.
“Such action seems a foolhardy measure without at least some form of caution,” the fourth member, a purple-red mare with blood-colored feathers pressed.
“Then allow me to choose those who will be his keepers. Caution will be met while still keeping the subject comfortable.”
“You will provide us a list?”
“Naturally.”
“... It is acceptable,” she finally conceded.
Industria sighed. “And you will provide us a proper analysis of the creature?”
“Along with any other notable developments.”
“Very well,” he said tiredly. “But realize that this is only to be a temporary measure, Miss Galaxia. It’s not a pet. It’s a subject for scientific study. We trust you will remember that objectivity at all times.”
“Then it appears that the vote is already cast,” the elderly stallion said, then chuckled. “Subject Eight-Twenty is to be remanded into the care of House Galaxia under the watch of a designated list of guardians that shall be certified hereafter in submission to the council for the sake of record.”
“A record that I assume you intend to keep sealed?” Terra pressed.
“Naturally.”
“Good. The less that know about this, the better. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some preparations to make.”
“It doesn’t make sense. It doesn’t make sense,” Hammer Strike muttered to himself. “What is she planning? None of her actions make sense.”
What was she doing? She was “trying to help him.” That just wasn’t how things worked here. She had to have some ulterior motive. There was no way around it. But he couldn’t think of anything she’d get out of “releasing” him. Unless they planned on releasing him to a different facility.
“Chance of movement to different facility, twenty-five percent,” he frowned. “Only twenty-five. That doesn’t feel right.”
The doors slid open again and the sound of many hooves rapped over the floor. Another test, another transfer, or maybe they were taking him to the yard again. “Hammer Strike.” Again, the name. “Hammer Strike, can you walk?”
He looked to Terra once more. Nothing made sense to him about her actions. After a moment, he stood up wordlessly.
“We’re getting you out of here,” she whispered. “I need you to stay calm, though, at least until we get away from this building.”
“Doesn’t make sense,” he muttered to himself once again as he moved to follow.
The halls stretched on, but unlike the dreaded passages that had been burned into his memories, these carried the scent of fresh air, rather than the stale sterility he had endured for the last seven years. Murmurs and the occasional hum of machinery left the Pony tensing his muscles and clenching his jaw.
“Almost there,” Terra whispered. “We’re about to see an increase in activity. More Alicorns. Don’t be alarmed. They’ll let us pass, though some may try to test you. Don’t rise to their bait.”
“Relocation, additional tests, non-hostile, probability of injury to self being at twenty percent,” Hammer Strike continued to mutter.
“They’d better keep it at zero, if they know what’s good for them,” she growled. At last, the pair emerged into a broad open space lit by sunlight filtered through an opening of pure quartz or something similar to it. Veins of metal arched upward to create supporting structures. The low hum of energy running through hidden conduits passed like static in his ears. “We’re about to enter the city proper. I just need to present the authorization to the desk and we’ll get you someplace more comfortable.”
The checkout was exceptionally speedy. It likely helped that Terra glowered at just about anyone who tried to interfere with enough ferocity to start their manes smoking. Then, at long last, the doors opened to reveal the full light of a dazzling afternoon sun. The buildings were an artistic blend of metal and stone that wove together to create intricate patterns and sculpture pieces to decorate the walls and provide a certain amount of appeal to passers by. Sigils, wards, and various other magical enchantments were enhanced by the seamless integration of technology. Security cameras, scanners, detectors, and various other paraphernalia sprouted almost out of thin air, or so it seemed. In the distance, he could just make out a circular plaza of sorts dotted with various statues that formed a perimeter within the main circle’s perimeter. Among them, he noted a double helix and what appeared to be a projection of some Pony at work with a chemical beaker of some kind. Whatever the others may have been remained a mystery as other Alicorns milled around the entrance. The metal along the walkway reflected the sun to give the impression of an almost divine radiance.
“Different, stable, partially controlled environment, lack of guards for facility relocation, guards attempting to keep watch nearby.” Hammer Strike continued to glance around. “Not enough variables…. Where am I being relocated to?”
“A place that should hopefully feel more like a home and less like a prison cell.”
Hammer Strike’s brow furrowed at the thought. “Fifty percent chance at light containment facility,” he muttered in thought.
“Light in the fact that you’re considered in my custody, yes,” she agreed. “And the fact I assume you probably want to avoid interacting with many Alicorns right now, which means laying low of necessity.”
“...Doesn’t make sense,” he continued to mutter to himself before rubbing his head.
“Residential district,” Hammer Strike noted to himself. “Lacks proper containment facilities, even light containment facilities.” He seemed lost in thought as he muttered. “Not enough information to make sense of it.”
It was at this point that the two of them stopped in front of a moderately sized building. Unlike the majority of its fellows, this one entertained a more artistic style. The front was lined by a series of columns, each crafted from a unique mineral. Farther inside the property, a small garden was maintained in tidy rows surrounding a birdbath that had been dug into a stone anvil. A magic circle had been crafted in gem and metal surrounding the garden to provide extra nutrition, light, water, and other basic necessities as circumstances required to protect and flourish it. A greenhouse sat off to the side, filled with all manner of vegetation that could only just be glimpsed through foggy panes.
The house was covered in a series of floral vines and decorative bushes that mingled with the metal, stone, and wood of the structure to create a delicate balance between the natural and the artificial.
“What do you think?” Terra asked.
“I-it ... it’s a house?” Hammer Strike was completely lost to the situation. “Structurally, it’s quite sound from appearance sake, materials match well with each other, and additional materials and food can come from the greenhouse, despite weather patterns. Probability of natural damage to the house is somewhere in the five to ten percent range over the course of a hundred years. The magic circuit runs at approximately eighty-five percent efficiency. Place doesn’t appear to be any form of light containment facility.”
“How about I give you the tour?” she suggested.
“I … don’t understand.” He frowned. “I ... am not being relocated to a facility?”
“Well, I suppose I do technically have an office here,” Terra conceded. “Though aside from that, I’m not sure if you could call it a facility.”
“I d-don’t get it.” Hammer Strike rubbed his head. “It doesn’t make sense. I’m not being relocated to a facility, but a house? There are additional tests in play. There have to be. It is never that simple.”
“No tests, no surgeries, no caveats, no probes, no shock collars or sedation. So long as you can control yourself and behave, you’ll never have to worry about any of those again.”
“It’s … over?”
Terra smiled. “Why else do you think I would bring you to my house?”
“Statistics indicate this could be a test, false house, in an attempt to gauge response from myself following structural points or to study myself in an open environment t-that is under heavy surveillance,” Hammer Strike replied as his eyes roamed around once again.
“I can’t vouch on the heavy surveillance, since our home is watched on a regular basis by those who are in power, but no such surveillance will be mine, and no such devices will exist on my property, save the bare essentials that are required for my scientific research and my mate’s.”
Hammer Strike went silent as he thought over everything. After a moment, he finally looked up to the sky and looked it over a few times. “This is … really happening? Solar energy dictates I’m outside.” He continued to mutter analytics to himself before growing silent once more.
“So, about that tour?”
“I, uh. Yes.” He paused for a second. “Please.”
The gardens and greenhouse came first and foremost. Bananas, coconuts, mangos, pineapple, and other plants towered in the space, and the air smelled of fresh rain and soft earth. As a horticulturist and overall plant biologist, she was able to demonstrate a number of new hybrids and methods to increase potency, number, and overall quality of crops and ingredients while seeking to either immunize against negative conditions or speed up harvest times. The significance of the anvil came soon after as the mare explained of her family’s unique status and privilege in the empire as a legacy from the empire’s earlier days.
The interior of the house was a mess of scattered notes and tomes mingled with toys and a series of paintings that remained intact. A series of crystals jutted up from a surface that had been molded out of the wall. They pulsed with energy, waiting to be activated. The kitchen was what one would expect, though the structure was again of an alloy not unlike crystal that was hard as metal, if not harder.
Bedrooms, workshops, bathrooms, and other facilities were also included, along with explanations for how certain aspects of their technology worked for Hammer Strike’s benefit and general convenience. Finally, they reached the last door, where the sound of a child’s giggle seeped through the crack.
“And since you are going to be staying with us for the foreseeable future, it’s only right that I introduce you to my family. My husband is still at work, but my daughter will surely love meeting you.” She smiled and opened the door to reveal an impossibility. A broad meadow stretched as far as the eye could see. Flawless white flowers sprouted and bloomed over rocks and crags as snowy peaks stretched on in the distance, obscured in part by great clouds of mist. A young white filly lay on the grass looking over a tablet and swiping the screen with her hoof idly.
“Guess who’s home,” Terra sang.
The filly’s head darted in the direction of the call. Her lush pink locks flapped to the side as she ran into her mother’s forelegs and wrapped her own around Terra’s hoof, then her neck as her mother picked her up. “Mommy!” she cheered in her native tongue.
Terra laughed. “Yes, I’m here. And I’ve brought a friend along with me.” She gestured over to the scarred Earth Pony. “Celestia, this is Hammer Strike. He’ll be staying with us for the foreseeable future.”
Celestia frowned as she looked over the marks on the Earth Pony’s body. “What happened to his wings and horn? Did somebody take them?”
Hammer Strike chuckled gently. “No, I simply decided I didn’t need them.”
Terra gaped at the Pony. “When did…?”
Hammer Strike glanced up to Terra, only for him to realize his mistake. He frowned and sighed.
She smiled and slowly lowered the filly to the ground. “I need to finish giving our guest a tour of the house. Finish your homework and I’ll have a treat waiting for you in the kitchen, all right?”
Celestia grinned. “Okay, Mommy.”
It didn’t take long for her to be absorbed in her tablet again, and Terra led her guest back into the halls. “Just how much do you understand, Hammer Strike?” she asked seriously.
Hammer Strike looked to her before sighing. “I’ve known the language longer than I’ve been contained here.”
“I’ve been told you were brought here through a time window that was meant to allow us a glimpse into our future. Does this mean that you are a descendant of the empire?”
“No,” Hammer Strike replied harshly before calming himself. “This empire, sometime in the future, was laid to waste. For the better, from what I’ve seen,” he finished with a frown before he sighed once again. “I … I mean nothing against you, but all I’ve seen since I’ve been here is torment and suffering.”
Terra frowned. “And you’ve no idea when in the future the destruction will happen?”
“Negative.” He frowned. “I’m sorry to have deceived you, but I’m sure you understand my reasoning. Doesn’t help they implanted a translation chip with everything, ‘except for Alicorn. Its brain wouldn’t be able to comprehend it, anyway,’” he recited.
“Just how much data have you been parsing?”
“Everything. I can break down the items around us in terms of materials and potential locations of finding the substances based off climates and geological locations. I can tell you the percentage chance of practically anything, once I have enough information. I can predict your movement before even you know what you’re going to do.” He placed a hoof on his head. “It’s so loud and constant, I can never escape it. I don’t sleep, I barely eat, so I never get a break from it.”
Terra sighed as she led him back to one of the spare rooms. “I was afraid you might say that.” The door opened to a simple white space with a trio of windows that flooded the room with light. A metal bed frame sat against the wall with a fresh pillow, mattress, and clean sheets. A desk sat across from the bed. “It’s not much, but it’s a space that you can call your own for so long as you stay here, provided it’s kept reasonably clean.”
“I…” he looked around once again. “I haven’t had a bed in years. Haven’t used a bed in longer....”
“Then I hope this will prove a welcome change.” She frowned, then forced her face into a neutral mask.
“It’s m-more than I could ask for.” Hammer Strike gave a subtle twitch.
“Are you all right?”
“Better than usual,” Hammer Strike offered with a shrug.
“There is one very important thing, though, Hammer Strike. You’re under my care. So, if anything goes wrong, you need to tell me as soon as possible, so we can help you.”
“Unless you have a simple solution to clear my head, I’m as good as I can be, to be honest.”
“Well, we do have a solution, and the procedure is simple, but … I doubt you would want to go through with it.”
“Process dictates that it isn’t removing them. Too close to the brain and too ingrained, I would assume.” Hammer Strike frowned. “What would it be?”
“Surgery. A simple one, but a surgery all the same.”
Hammer Strike shuddered. “No. Never again. Please.”
“I thought that was what you might say.” She sighed and shook her head. “We won’t make you, but you should know that insanity in your mind will continue to build for the rest of your days without its help.”
“I can’t. Every part of me is screaming that if I go through another surgery, I won’t come out of it fine.”
“Then we’ll have to keep an eye on you. Nothing extreme, more of a check-in, I suppose, where we’ll ask how you’re faring in casual conversation. If nothing gets serious, there won’t be any need for anything else. Does that sound fair to you?”
Hammer Strike simply nodded in return. After a second of silence, his ear twitched. “Movement, average Alicorn size, based off distance between steps. Not wearing heavy equipment. Approximately five seconds from the door.”
“Honey?” a male voice spoke as the door opened. In walked a tall but slightly gangly Alicorn stallion. His fur was a deep purple, almost blue, with a mane and tail of a surprisingly light green that almost seemed ethereal and swaying in its own right. His mark seemed to be several tools Hammer Strike couldn’t identify working on a DNA strand. He stopped, looking at his wife, then at Hammer Strike, slightly confused.
“Hammer Strike, this is my husband, Tempus. Tempus, this is Hammer Strike. He’ll be our guest for the foreseeable future.”
“I see…” Tempus said. “I trust you’ll explain in more detail later?”
“Naturally.” She smiled. “Now how about I see about fixing us a little dinner? Who wants fruit salad?”
Hammer Strike, at this point, was staring blankly.
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
“I haven’t eaten anything other than … whatever it was they served to test subjects. Even then, I only ate once a week or so, though they tried to feed me three times a week.”
“Well here, you’re getting the same as anyone else, three square meals a day. Though we may need to work you back up to that over time, given how your digestive tract has likely adapted.”
Hammer Strike stared into the distance, seemingly lost in thought.
The night sky was cool and clear as Terra strode out of the house with husband in tow. Celestia had already been put to bed, and their new guest had been left to his own devices while the two took in the night air. The stars shone brightly above their heads as the gentle crash of the sea filtered through their ears.
“All right, Tempus, I’m ready to answer your questions now.”
“Let's start with a general explanation of the situation and work from there.”
“He’s a Pony from the distant future where, apparently, we are no longer a civilization. He’s been systematically tortured and starved for the last seven years. I can show you his file, if you like, but that would remove any plausible deniability you might want to keep for Celestia’s sake, if this blows up in my face.”
“You talked to your father about this?”
“I told him that I would introduce him later.”
“Who else is in on this?”
“The one who showed me all this in the first place.”
“What exactly are you planning?”
“For the moment? Rehabilitation. As for what comes next, I’m not entirely certain. I’ll need to study it out, come up with a plan.”
“How many augments have they used on him?”
“Roughly twenty. And I have no idea which ones are still functional. Several were experimental and not above water.”
Tempus let out a low whistle. “It’s amazing he’s still able to walk straight.”
“It’s amazing he’s even able to walk at all. By all accounts, he should be dead. He did die once, actually.”
“What model of stabilizer did they use?”
“They didn’t,” she said bleakly.
Tempus seemed bothered by that. “That goes against the ethical guidelines.”
“Apparently not. He’s not the only one. He’s just the only one to survive.” Her body shook, but not from cold. “This whole thing makes me sick.”
“Well, have you thought about asking … her?” he asked.
Terra shook her head. “Wouldn’t do any good. He’s traumatized. Even the mention of surgery puts him on edge, and you don’t want him to snap. He’s killed over a dozen guards over the last seven years. He’s not dangerous to us, just to abuse. Treat him as an equal and he’ll be fine.”
“I hope you know what you're doing,” he said.
“It’s the right thing, regardless. If I tried to locate him anywhere else, the council would probably try to kill him.” She frowned. “Though there is still one piece of the puzzle I find confusing.”
“And that is?”
“He speaks our language fluently. The implants were deliberately designed without translation protocols for it. He claims to have known it beforehand, but he won’t say more.”
“If he comes from the future, maybe our language is more widespread?”
“I suppose it is a possibility,” she conceded. “But the odds don’t seem likely unless we abandoned the island in his time and spread along the mainland.”
“So, what now?”
“We gain his trust, wait, live like we normally do, and feed bread crumbs to keep the council and anyone else off our backs in the meanwhile.”
“Very well.” Tempus nuzzled her gently. “One step at a time.”
Terra sighed and leaned into her husband. “Thank you.”
Hammer Strike stared outside the window in his room. It was a strange sensation. He wasn’t at the mercy of a testing schedule, apart from Terra giving him a check up every now and then. He knew it was to make sure he was fine, but the best he could offer was a simple shrug in return.
He didn’t feel normal. He didn’t even feel right, but he couldn’t go through the potential surgery anymore. He didn’t know if he could handle it.
He was at least physically starting to feel better. Above average food and access to actual sunlight and solar energy was certainly improving his physical condition. A look in the mirror showed him that much.
He still had the problem of his stutters and his lapses of anger, which certainly made things difficult at times when he was around a child and two individuals that would move around in different formats than he was used to.
It was difficult to keep himself rooted in the present, but it was worth it so far. He was actually enjoying himself, for a change. It wasn’t anything grand, but it was more comfortable than the constant tests. He still had lingering moments of doubt on whether or not this was happening, but managed to confirm it with himself.
He didn’t do much in the house, and he certainly didn’t explore outside the house, as that would only lead to trouble with no doubt in his mind. If there was something constructive he could do, he’d be able to work on something. Perhaps he could ask Terra for a notebook and something to write with. Though he would have to limit what he would put in it. While their written language was different, he wasn’t sure on how long it would take for them to decipher his work.
Based off the movement he heard in the house, it sounded as though they were all home. He’d have to ask when they were available. After a moment, he stepped outside of his room and looked around once more. Terra was currently in her office, tapping away at her tablet, and Tempus was in their living room, swiping away at his tablet. It didn’t take long for Tempus to notice him.
“Sorry.” Hammer Strike rubbed the side of his head, thinking he had alerted Tempus in some manner. “Still unable to f-fully understand this situation. Too many unknown variables.”
“What do you need clarified?” he asked.
“Nothing I can describe in words at the moment.” He shook his head. “I’m just not used to this yet. My scheduling is thrown off. Today would have been scheduled with additional testing outside of surgery, most likely another endurance t-test after the situation of the last surgery.”
“I see. They gave you that one.” tempus sighed.
“That one?”
“Has Terra explained what my job is?” he asked.
“Negative.” Hammer Strike shook his head. “Mark dictates it involves the field of biology. Tools dictate some modification or alteration to it involving equipment.”
“I work on developing modifications to cover where our biology fails. Modifications that weren’t intended to be used on non-alicorns.”
Hammer Strike gave a subtle twitch. “In either case, they work on non-alicorns, at least myself.”
“One of these modifications was to allow less hindered thought processes inside the brain,” Tempus continued. “However, unstabilized, it’s highly dangerous for Alicorns, nevermind Ponies.”
“Definition dictates you’re talking about the mental enhancer, or overclock as it has been designated,” Hammer Strike replied. “I lean toward agreeing with you on it’s instability. Approximately with a sixty-four percent chance of failure if left on it’s own, or compound with additional augments.”
“And you have a lot of additional augments,” Tempus nodded. “It’s amazing you haven’t fallen into a coma.”
“Instead, I am subject to every waking moment of my life in the form of a constant thought process, much like a run-on sentence that goes on … indefinitely.” Hammer Strike shuddered. “A constant noise, much like static.”
“I’m sorry,” tempus offered. “That was never my intention.”
“Information leans toward that it was never within your control,” Hammer Strike replied simply. “I hold no ill will toward yourself or your family, but I can’t help myself sometimes. The rest of your kind are… too curious for their own good.” His voice dropped in tone.
“Too far from the ancients,” Tempus added with a dry and mirthless chuckle.
“Changing subject; would it be in the realm of possibility to obtain something to write with and on, such as a notebook and pen, or pencil, or quill, or anything of the sort?”
“I can get that for you.” tempus nodded. “But it may take some time.”
“I appreciate it.” Hammer Strike gave a nod. “I will return to … my room. To avoid getting in the way of anyone.” he finished, turning back toward the room provided to him.
“Let me know if you need anything.”
“I will,” Hammer Strike replied as he entered his room and closed the door once more.
Hammer Strike was very puzzled.
He was currently watching over Celestia, who was a six or seven-year-old filly, a drastic difference from his present day.
While he may find his guard down somewhat around children, this situation proved to have so many different variables running through his head, he barely knew what to do. That and reining in his impulses left him with some odd feelings.
“Mister Strike, everyone I know has some sort of job they do. And I saw your mark. It reminds me of Grandpa. Are you a blacksmith, like he is?”
“I also can mess with carpentry, though I am primarily a blacksmith, yes.”
“Are you one of Grandpa’s friends, then?”
“No, I’m not, sadly.” He gave a soft smile. ”I don’t know many Alicorns out here.”
“How come?”
“I…” Hammer Strike frowned as he thought over his words. ”They don’t want to interact with me much.”
Celestia frowned. “Why? You’re fun, and you’re really smart. You do math and science so easily.” The frown quickly became a pout. “I wish I could think that fast.”
“One day, I’m sure you will.” Hammer Strike smiled gently, thankful for a shift in topic. “I’m sure you’ll get quite far.”
“Do you think you can teach me?”
Hammer Strike’s smile faltered. “I can try, but I don’t know too much on what they’ll want to teach you.”
“Then teach me something you know. Mommy says I should always try new things, anyway.”
Hammer Strike hummed. “I’ll tell you what. I’ll discuss it with your mother and figure out what I can, okay?”
Celestia fixed him with wide sparkling eyes. “You promise?”
“I promise.” His smile returned.
“So, what do we play now?”
“Whatever you want that I can manage.”
“Glamour seek?”
“I don’t think I know that one.”
Celestia grinned.
“Abnormality.” Hammer Strike frowned as he looked to Terra and Tempus. “Preparations are being made for a number greater than our current collection.”
“That’s because we have a guest on his way,” Terra said matter-of-factly.
“Additional alicorn. Based off pattern, it’s a singular individual of differing size.”
“An astute observation,” Terra said.
“Grandpa’s coming for a visit!” Celestia practically squealed with delight.
“Grandfather, one of your parents, not enough information to decipher, but my guess would be your father, Terra, as you have been responding to my questions about said individual.” Hammer Strike hummed to himself.
“Indeed. We thought that after all this time, it might be nice for you to meet someone else in our social circle. And, given my family’s unique history and trade, we thought you and he would likely get along without difficulty.”
“Craftstallion of some kind?”
Terra smiled. “Let’s just say there’s a reason we have an anvil for a birdbath.”
“Blacksmith,” Hammer Strike hummed. “The grandfather Celestia mentioned, then. Strange trade in your current environment, but still within the realm of usefulness.”
“I’ll let him explain it when he gets here. It will give you two something to talk about.”
“Won’t take long. I can hear movement coming closer to the house, heavy steps, spacing dictates they’re taller,” Hammer Strike noted. “Approximately ten seconds till he’s at the door.”
Exactly ten seconds after he finished his sentence, there was a sturdy knock at the door.
Terra soon returned with her father in tow. “Hammer Strike, allow me to introduce my father, Andre Galaxia. Father, this is Hammer Strike.”
“So, he’s the one.” Andre looked over Hammer Strike. “Not quite what I was expecting.”
“Expectations ran higher or lower?” Hammer Strike questioned aloud.
“Higher, but I don’t doubt the reports on you,” Andre held out a hoof. “Well met.”
Hammer Strike returned the hoof shake with a hint of uncertainty. “A pleasure.”
“Andre is one of the rare unmodified members of our race,” Tempus explained quietly.
“Older member as well,” Hammer Strike replied automatically. “With age comes respect, and in a society such as this, it shows.”
“Oi,” Andre gave a faint chuckle. “I’m still here, you know.”
“I know.”
A pink-streaked white blur barreled into the smith’s chest and didn’t even budge him, though a familiar smile beamed at the Alicorn’s gaze. “Grandpa!” Celestia giggled as she continued to cling to the stallion.
Andre smiled as he returned the hug. “I was wondering when you were going to spring.” He chuckled as he lowered her back to the ground. “How have you been?”
“Good. Hammer Strike’s been a lot of fun. He even helped me with some of my homework.”
“Has he now?” Andre looked to Hammer Strike. “Putting that mind and mods to good use, then?”
“As effectively as possible,” Hammer Strike replied simply.
“Glad to see everyone getting along. Now how about you all get to the table, so I can serve dinner?” Terra asked pointedly.
The four quickly made their way to the table and claimed their seats while Terra entered with the first course. “Spinach puffs, an excellent way to start a meal.” She levitated five to each plate and left the platter in the middle, then joined her family. “Entree should be finished in the next ten minutes, so dig in.”
The rest of the meal consisted of quiche and a cream pie using a variety of tropical fruits from the greenhouse. When the family had finished the meal, they adjourned to the living room to further the interaction between the two smiths.
“So, since you’re a smith from your kind, what’s it like? What do you make?” Andre finally questioned Hammer Strike.
“Depends on the situation,” Hammer Strike replied. “Weaponry of my time is open to all races, thus I have managed to work along all three of our races for personalized equipment. Between weighted gauntlets, I did an amulet to focus a Unicorn’s power once, and a set of wingblades for the Pegasi.”
“Wingblades?”
“Due to the nature of Pegasi and their bone structure, their form of combat is better suited in a quick fashion. Weaponry creates an extra field of energy outside of their center of mass, while blades fashioned to go along their wings work efficiently at keeping the weight close enough to not inhibit combat.”
Andre hummed for a moment. “We never really had the issue of dealing with weight for fighting in the air, but it does make sense.”
“Additionally, if adapted correctly, it gives them more focus to their surroundings than being wary of their weapon position and placement.” It was at this point that Hammer Strike noted the looks of those around him. “Sorry,” he rubbed the side of his head. “It was my work and hobby for so long, and I honestly miss it.”
“Well, I do own my own workshop,” Andre started before humming. “Terra, do you think you could drop him off sometimes on your way to work? Can’t have him wander there on his own.”
“If you don’t mind him staying until one of us can pick him up, and the extra attention from the council, I don’t see why not.”
“What’s the council going to do to me, slap my pastern for having a ‘test subject’ there? They’ll be hard pressed to try and stop me from it.”
“Well then, assuming it’s all right with Hammer Strike, I can drop him off whenever you two decide.”
Hammer Strike blinked in surprise. “W-whenever he’ll have me.”
“Drop him off in a few days. I’ve got a project I’m currently working on, and they’ll definitely have a fit if he shows up while I’m working on it.”
Terra rolled her eyes. “State secrets and all that?”
“Not really, just some ‘special’ project they want done quickly.”
“All right. Send me a message when you’re finished, and I’ll bring him by. I’m sure you two will be only too happy to discuss the efficiency of forge designs and other smith things.”
“I miss my smithing hammer,” Hammer Strike muttered.
“And this is it,” the large Alicorn said as he showed Hammer Strike into his workshop.
“Not quite what I expected,” Hammer Strike noted as he looked around the place. It was moderately sized, and held plenty of equipment both familiar and unfamiliar to him. “Expectations were of a more advanced lab like system for a forge, such as specific temperature heating furnaces and such.”
“If those in power had their say, it would be that way.” Andre chuckled as he looked around. “They don’t understand the value of working with your hooves.”
“Based off observations, it can be confirmed,” Hammer Strike replied as he looked around once more before noting an additional individual in the room. “Who do you work with?”
Andre seemed confused. “Nobody.”
“Then who—” Hammer Strike looked back, only to note a lack of an additional Alicorn in the room. He frowned to himself as he tried to recall their features, only for it to come blank. After a second, he shook his head. “Apologies. I g-guess I was wrong.”
“Now I think there is something here that you’ll wish to see.” The Alicorn led him through the workshop. “Or more appropriately, wishes to see you.” He chuckled a bit as he revealed a particularly familiar hammer sitting on a worktable.
Hammer Strike's attention was fully grabbed by the hammer as he reached a hoof out for it only to stop short. “Trick, trap, something’s not right,” he muttered. Something in his mind screamed about how it wasn’t possible. “Openly revealing my weapon, doesn’t add up.”
“You plan to do me harm with this hammer?” Andre asked him.
“Negative. No reason displayed.”
“I see no issue with letting you know where it is, then. I can't let you take it back with you at this time, but I think you both need reassurance.”
Hammer Strike took hold of Ulkrusher once more, and as comforting as the thought was, the unease still remained.
“It’s truly a work of art,” Andre noted. “I haven’t seen it’s like from outside the city before.”
Hammer Strike stared at the hammer in his hooves. His breathing became less stable as he felt a presence once again to his side. It wasn’t Andre, he knew that, and he was supposed to be alone with Andre, so who was it? It wasn’t an embodiment, it wasn’t anyone he knew, and out of the corner of his eye he could swear he saw a maneless Alicorn with a beard.
As his breathing became erratic, his eyes shifted hue back to their default of red.
“Are you okay, my friend?” Andre asked. “In control of yourself?”
He couldn’t hold himself anymore, it was that scientist, that same one that had spent years tormenting him. Within an instant, Hammer Strike lashed out, swinging with a wide arc against the Alicorn, knocking him backwards. He couldn’t think straight. Everything felt so far away, but that scientist was there.
Hammer Strike continued to strike with everything he could before thaumic fire surrounded his hooves and body. There was screaming, lots of it, and he knew just what to do to that scientist. He let the fires consume the Alicorn, burn away at him until nothing would be left.
It was at this point that he felt a force hold him in place and remove Ulkrusher from his grasp. The screaming continued, on and on, until he realized it wasn’t the scientist screaming.
He was.
His breathing was erratic, there was a red glow over everything around him. Everything was wrong. He was panicking. Strapped down once again. That damned table once more. Nothing he did could break the straps holding him.
“Hammer Strike!”
He blinked. The straps weren’t there, but he was held down. What was holding him?
White magic flowed around his body, but it wasn’t white in the way most magic was, it was glowing brightly and a bit hot, like he was being held in bonds of white hot metal.
“Calm down,” Andre said. “You need to keep ahold of yourself.”
“What happened? What’s going on? Where am I?” Hammer Strike questioned quickly as he tried to rein in his breathing.
“You seemed to be reliving something, You destroyed one of my mannequins.” There was no anger in the voice, just concern.
“Mannequin?” Hammer Strike looked around, unable to find the mannequin that Andre had mentioned, only for him to realise he had destroyed it thaumically. He was fully prepared to destroy that one scientist thaumically and ruin his chances of staying out of containment.
“I think I’d best put that away for now,” Andre said as he took Ulkrusher into his telelkenetic grip.
“I can’t do this anymore,” Hammer Strike commented weakly. “I can’t. T-the loud constant static that fills my mind every waking moment. The prediction module feels like it takes over at times. I … I can’t do this.”
“I think we need to talk to Terra,” Andre said gently.
“S-she told me how there’s one thing that could help m-me.” He shuddered. “I’ll do it. I’ll do anything, just please … help me.”
“There, there, my friend.” Andre set Hammer Strike free of his telekinesis gently. “We’ll get this sorted out.”
Pensword frowned as he watched the last few scenes unfold. “This isn’t good. Those implants are messing with him. At least, I hope it’s just the implants. Otherwise, we’re seeing a shell shocked Hammer Strike. Doctor, when we finally pick Hammer Strike up, you and he will probably need to talk. Please, help him, because I feel that only you can come close to understanding what is happening in his head.”
“I think you’re right.” The Doctor nodded grimly.
“Things should hopefully get a little better from here, though, right? I mean, he’s not locked up anymore. And it seems he has people who care about his well-being now,” Vital pointed out.
“I should certainly hope so. He’s been through enough,” Rarity said adamantly as she glared at the screen.
Pensword looked at the screen. “If they can keep those scientists off his back and keep him in control. What I fear is that Hammer Strike is there at the fall of the empire itself. If so, how many more friends will he lose?”
Grif let out a line of steady Gryphic. The only thing they could pick up was, “Faust.”
“Time will tell,” Vital said. “We can’t do anything but wait, watch, and hope.”
“Agreed. I pray to Faust and the Moon that Hammer Strike gets what peace he deserves.” Pensword paused as he suddenly looked to Grif and then to Rarity and Derpy. “Derpy, could, we ... maybe if the Doctor agrees, use the Tardis to give Hammer Strike time off? You know, so The Doctor and he can talk, Rarity and he can be together and heal, and you make your depression-busting muffins?”
“I’ll see what I can do,” Derpy promised.
“Grif, are you … praying for him?” Twilight asked curiously.
“That wasn’t a prayer,” Grif growled. “It was a curse, one of the few things that survived from that time period for Gryphons. It doesn’t translate well, but the closest would be ‘a thousand pains on the children of Faust.’”
Twilight winced.
“Well, something certainly ended them. Your curse may not go unanswered for long,” Vital said.
Pensword found himself staring off at the wall as he sat thinking. “I agree, but I fear that the curse will harm the few good Alicorns left on the island.”
“I assume you’re speaking metaphorically, since Grif hasn’t actually invoked any magic,” Vital said.
“Grif is the Avatar of the winds. Sometimes just intent is enough to set something in motion when it comes to these kinds of things. I don’t put anything into concrete when it comes to the Avatar.”
“It’s just a cultural saying, Pensword,” Grif said. “If intent had been enough, the Alicorn Empire would have crumbled ages before any of this happened.”
“I guess I’m still my old paranoid self.” He smiled weakly. “Just … I thought the Third Gryphon War was brutal. The Alicorns make you guys look like the old guard.”
“We were better back then,” Grif said.
“Then as in Alicorn time or then as in Third Gryphon War time?” Vital asked.
“The Alicorn time.”
“And you will be again, if I’m not mistaken.” Vital smiled. “That is what you guys were partying about the other night, wasn’t it?”
“That's the hope.” Grif nodded.
“Then, at the risk of sounding cliche to the extreme, let’s hope for Hammer Strike, too. He’ll make it out all right. He has to. He’s too hardheaded not to figure out a way.”
At that moment, Rarity raced up and hugged the stallion. “Thank you,” she said softly. Then she consumed another muffin as crumbs rained on Vital’s back.
“You’re … welcome,” Vital said awkwardly.
“Is this line secure?” Terra asked as she peered at the screen.
“Darling, what do you take me for? ‘Is this line secure?’ Is this a question?” the Alicorn Terra was conversing with currently was tiny. Very tiny. Quite possibly, the filly Celestia was already taller than her. However, size of body usually quavered to size of personality when it came to this Alicorn. She had a mostly off-white coloring with a stark black mane and tail. Her mane was cut in a bowl cut, and large round black spectacles sat on her face.
“I had to be certain, Aunt E. You know how much the council’s been breathing down our necks lately.”
“Oh, yes, the council.” E rolled her eyes. “Seriously, darling, why have you called me?”
“Because I have a favor to ask, and it involves a mutual … acquaintance of ours.”
“I see,” E answered contemplatively. “Very well. Come down, darling, and let's talk. Or would you rather I send Teller down to escort you?”
“That might not be a bad idea, all things considered. I’ll be bringing a friend along as well. It will be easier to explain if he’s there.”
“Very well, darling. He’ll be on his way. See you soon!” Her face vanished.
It didn’t take Terra long to get Hammer Strike ready and gather her things. “Now, there’s something you need to know about our escort. Teller is … somewhat eccentric. He’ll talk you into the next century, if you let him. And another thing. Don’t ask him his name. There’s a powerful hex on it that no one’s been able to break. No matter what you do, something will inevitably prevent you from hearing it. Whoever placed it wanted to make sure his name would die with him.”
“That certainly explains things,” Hammer Strike muttered to himself.
“What was that?”
“Nothing, muttering, lost in thought, can’t stop, you know what I mean.”
“Aunt E is the best in her field. It’s because of her that Teller is alive today. I’ll save the story for him to tell. The point is, if you’re serious about getting this surgery done right with the proper hooves, there are few better. And given your unique attributes, she’ll probably take an immediate liking to you.”
Hammer Strike sighed. “Unknown variables in play, main system dictates that I trust you.”
Three loud clanging knocks sounded at the door.
“And that would be him.” Terra nodded. “Are you ready to go out? You’ll need to rein in any instinct to attack, and there will be people who look at us. They probably won’t say very nice things either.”
“Latest outburst has resulted in less potent outbreaks for now. I should be able to rein in any anomalies.”
Terra took a deep breath and released it explosively, then opened the door with her magic. A towering form of metal and wiring stood before them. Teller was positively covered from head to hoof. His voice carried the muted quality of an air filtration system as the blank visor stared at the Alicorn and her guest.
“Terra. Long time no see. E said you might need an escort.”
“Thank you for coming, Tellier. Allow me to introduce my guest. This is Hammer Strike. He’ll be coming with us today for our consultation with Auntie E. Hammer Strike, this is Teller.”
“Ah the famous eight-twenty,” the mass of metal said. “I’ve heard a lot of stories about you—”
Hammer Strike gave a brief twitch. “Teller, please, refrain from that designation.”
“As I said earlier, his name is Hammer Strike,” Terra stressed. “The other designation is inappropriate and … painful to him.”
“Very well,” he said. “Shall we head out?”
“Please,” Terra said. Then she motioned to the door with her wing. “After you, Hammer Strike.”
While he was wary, he settled his trust in Terra and followed behind Teller.
The trip to E’s compound was lengthy, since Teller went to the trouble of plotting a course that would allow for a minimum of interaction with any other Alicorns. However, the trio finally arrived at the entrance, where a series of incredibly potent wards and a vast security system that featured laser fencing, electrically charged traps, turrets, and all manner of technological deterrents to visitors awaited them.
“Aunt E takes pleasure in her privacy,” Terra said by way of explanation. “So she takes steps to preserve it.”
“Noted,” Hammer Strike muttered.
It didn’t take long to get inside. Teller already had the access codes and prior authorizations. E’s structure was incredibly modern in design, rich with angles and a great balcony that stretched out from the structure high above for a view of the city and the ocean that lay beyond. The internal portions of the structure were full of equally modern pieces of art, including a massive fountain that featured a bare Equine shape with a waterfall to form its robes. A great mural portrayed Sleipnir, Faust, and a third Alicorn surrounded by smaller Alicorns. Some were decked in warrior’s garb. Others appeared to wield magic to battle monsters.
A large circular black table with a clear glass center held a tray laden with a teapot, four cups, and various bowls, plates, and vessels filled with sugar, cream, and other treats best taken with the beverage. Four block-like armchairs surrounded the table. The one facing the entrance was occupied.
“Analysis dictates individual present is p-previously mentioned ‘Aunt E,’” Hammer Strike commented with a twitch.
“I see.” The diminuitive Alicorn’s voice spoke up before she rose from her chair and approached. “I think I am starting to understand the issue.”
“You’re starting to, but the whole issue is far worse.” Terra shook her head sadly. “Can we talk freely here?”
“Individual is noted to like privacy, any cameras on site are under the assumption of personal security and are disconnected from the central grid,” Hammer Strike commented once more. “Error margin of forty-three percent.”
“They didn’t stabilize him,” E said as she moved to look him over.
“I’m afraid it’s far more extensive than you may think.” Terra sighed and levitated her tablet to the mare. “Over twenty.”
“And yet, he is still able to function,” E commented, circling him. “Fascinating.”
“We need your help to stabilize him. If we don’t, it’s only a matter of time before he’s driven mad. Doctor Bright is willing to assist as well, but we’d require a facility that isn’t under the council’s watch. You’re one of the few who are able to function relatively outside the council’s influence. And so, I ask you. Will you help us? Will you help him?”
“You didn’t even have to ask, darling.” E shook her head. “Get everything together. The sooner we do this, the better.”
Terra sighed in relief. “Thank you.” She had Doctor Bright on the tablet in a matter of seconds. “We’re good to go. You know where to meet.”
The journey to the operating room was a long one through winding passages, though sped by E’s unique form of transport, a rail system designed to generate a protective field around a subject and jettison it toward the designated target along reinforced tracks designed to polarize with the energies that generated the field in the first place. By the time they reached the lab, Doctor Light was already warming up the machines. The sight of the operating table and its many restraints and tools hovering threateningly above the surface sent waves of anxiety through the Earth Pony.
“Second thoughts,” Hammer Strike muttered as he found difficulty moving toward the table.
A comforting wing draped over his back. “I’ll be here the whole time, watching and helping. No one is attacking you here, and we won’t bind you if you feel it’s unnecessary. We will have to put you under, though. Can you trust us to do this for you? Or at least trust me?”
Hammer Strike flinched at the contact. “Wary, red flags,” he muttered. “I’ll try.” he finished after a moment before moving toward the table. His breathing was unsettled as he got onto the table, and it increasingly got worse as they started to strap him down. Finally, Bright produced a needle and injected Hammer Strike once more. However, in his panicked state, it was taking time to properly affect him.
Terra looked into those eyes and was reminded only too well of her daughter. She, too, had dealt with terror and fear. And as a mother, she knew there was only one way to comfort such a child. She raised her voice, and began to sing as she stroked his mane.
While it seemed to have no effect at first, Hammer Strike appeared to be trying to focus on her through his panic. It took some time, but eventually the sedative finally took over. The light coming from his eyes dimmed as they powered down.
“That was terrible.” Terra stroked Hammer Strike’s mane one last time, then turned away. “I never thought I would see something so … desperate.” She shook her head. “How can we do this to them so … callously?”
“We are the first born.” Bright laughed dryly. “It is our inheritance.”
“Even when they show such incredible capacity for growth?” She sighed. “Perhaps … it would be better with the empire gone, after all.”
“You do understand why your father secludes himself then,” Bright said.
“I’m starting to.”
“Improvements, they called it,” E added. “Turned the entire race into little more than monsters. There is a reason I say I used to design for gods, darling. Emphasis on used.”
“Then … I suppose we’ll just have to do what we can for him.”
“Yes, yes. Whatever you say, darling.” By now, E was busy staring at Hammer Strike’s horseshoes. “Ah. Now these, I haven’t seen in a very long time,” E said as she examined the shoes on his back hooves. “Far longer than most have lived.”
“His horseshoes?” Terra asked.
“You’ve heard of the Shoes of Sleipnir, correct? A gift sleipnir created for the first Earth Ponies. The council would likely do anything for these, if only to prove that the gods favor Alicorns more.”
“I thought the Alicorns weren’t able to wear them, though,” Terra said.
“Yes but we call ourselves ‘the children of Faust’, and claim to be the most favored of all the races. These relics put that claim in dispute, you see. Their very existence alone says the gods might favor others.”
“If these really are those artifacts, then how come the council hasn’t done anything about it? I would have thought they would try anything to get them.”
“Because they’re not that easy to get.” Doctor bright laughed as he took a scalpel and placed it near the back of the first joint in hammer strike’s back left leg. Immediately, the horseshoe warped and grew until it had fully armored the area.
“They … deploy armor?” Terra asked.
“Yes, and they seem to sense intent as well. It would take a lot to get them off.”
“Are you inferring that attempts were made that were erased from the system, then?”
“I’m not inferring anything. I’m saying it bluntly.”
“Why do I get the feeling I just stepped into a secret group focused around rebelling against the current system of government?”
“No darling, just a bunch of people who don’t care anymore,” E corrected.
“Is there much difference?”
“I don’t know, but we should probably get underway,” Bright noted as he brought the scalpel toward Hammer Strike’s neck and triggered the machinery to begin the procedure. “We have a leash to cut and a tumult to quiet.”
Hammer Strike groaned as he came to. He was currently within a bed of some kind, of seemingly decent quality compared to previous situations. It was a comforting note.
He blinked as he was able to take in the calm atmosphere. No static, no more noise drilling into his head. Sure, he could still feel the augments there, and he could still tell the information was flooding in, but it felt calm compared to the last seven years. He could drone it out, even, and let it fade into the background.
“Welcome back.” Terra’s voice was gentle and calm, a practiced bedside manner only nurses and mothers could seem to replicate. “How do you feel?”
“I…” Hammer Strike couldn’t help but let a small smile come through. “I feel normal. Well, as normal as I can be.” He finished, and his smile widened.
“Those implants should be more manageable, now that you have that stabilizer put in. We also took the liberty of removing your leash chips.”
Hammer Strike reached up near his neck, only to stop at the side and apply a small amount of pressure. “I didn’t n-notice.” he frowned at himself. “Yeah, I don’t feel it anymore.”
“In time, you should be able to learn how to use those mods deliberately, rather than letting them run all the time without control.”
“It helps that I have a feel for each of them,” Hammer Strike replied. “T-though, it’s still an abnormality.”
“Hopefully, you’ll get more used to them, now that you have greater control.”
“I,” He frowned in thought. “I should be able to manage that quickly.”
“If you don’t, tell me. We want to make you as comfortable as possible.”
“This was plenty enough right now.” Hammer Strike gave a small smile. “For the first time in seven years, I can finally think clearly.”
“I hope that means, in time, that you may be willing to tell us more about yourself.”
Hammer Strike gave a faint chuckle. “After this? I’ll tell you damn near anything. Not quite everything, but close enough.”
“Good. But let’s finish your recovery first. Wouldn’t want you to say I coerced you while you weren’t in your right mind.” She smiled impishly and winked at him.
“Your choice.” He shrugged.
“So, the patient has recovered consciousness?” E asked as she entered the room.
“I believe I can confirm that.” Hammer Strike gave a small smile.
“You are a very interesting Pony, Hammer Strike,” E noted. “You’ll have to tell me when you acquired those shoes.”
“Are we in a secure room?”
“Yes.” She nodded.
“Then, plain and simple, Sleipnir, apparently.”
“I assumed that much. He is their creator, after all. And he wouldn’t give them away without reason.”
“As for when…” Hammer Strike frowned. “Some potential thousands of years in the future? I ended up dealing with a minor magical mishap from an outside source, and it resulted in me having amnesia for some time. Long story short, I met an old stallion on the road at night and allowed him time by my campfire. Didn’t really know it at the time that it was him.” He shrugged. “Never showed himself again.”
“Few would recognize him.” E chuckled. “Still, you must have something special about you if he chose you.”
Hammer Strike shrugged. “Honestly, I hardly know anything about his mythology or, well, facts. I don’t really know what I could have done.”
“I’m sure I'll find out in time, darling.” She chuckled.
“If you figure it out, I’d love to hear it.” Hammer Strike gave another shrug.
“Rest assured, darling, you’ll be the first one I call.”
Hammer Strike nodded. “How long am I supposed to be ‘bedridden’ by the way?”
“The next half hour or so, just to make sure you work enough of the sedative out of your system,” Terra said.
“You seemed resistant to the normal one used in the labs, according to doctor bright, so we worked out something … special. Should have been powerful enough to put even you out,” E noted.
“I noticed.” Hammer Strike hummed. “I’ll trust your judgement on this, rather than push myself like normal.”
“Of course, Aunt E and Doctor Bright are the ones who have the real say on the matter.”
E pulled out a long thin pipe, mounted a cartridge, and took a deep breath before exhaling a cloud of what looked like smoke, but carried none of the smell. “I would suggest attempting to act unstable around the others. The less they know about this, the better.”
“I … should be able to manage that.” Hammer Strike hummed. “I just have to verbally list analytics, perhaps a faint twitch every now and then.”
“Best to keep it the same level you did before when we’re in public,” Terra said. “I’m sure your implants will be able to show you how often and when those ticks manifested.”
“I can confirm that.”
“Excellent. Now, assuming we are all done with the formalities, I expect to see a great deal more of you, Hammer Strike. And the family. I haven’t seen little Celestia since she was born.” E strode up and patted Terra on the cheek. “And call me more often, darling. I do so enjoy our little visits.”
Terra laughed helplessly. “Whatever you say, Auntie Edna.”
Hammer Strike stood inside Andre’s workshop once more. It felt like a different experience entirely. Everything looked clear to him for a change as he took in the tools and equipment that formed a large part of his surroundings. “It’s … strange, to say the least. I know I was here before, but it doesn’t feel the same to me.”
“You’re more here than you were last time,” Andre noted.
“That’s fair.” Hammer Strike hummed. “Would it be possible to see Ulkrusher once more? Since I know you can stop me if something happens again. I … just want to be assured I’m finally starting to get better.”
The Alicorn nodded as he moved deeper into his workshop and came back moments later with the weapon.
Taking hold of the hammer was like welcoming an old friend. Hammer Strike studied it over a few times, noting that it was being maintained in some manner. He smiled softly. “Yeah, … this is how I remember it feeling.”
“It’s very rare for a magical weapon to be so … intricately tied to its user, even with a soul binding.”
“It’s soulbound?”
“You didn’t know?” Andre asked, surprised. “There is a tether of power between the two of you. I doubt most could go so far as to lift it without your say so.”
Hammer Strike looked it over once again. “I suppose that would explain a few things. Though, it doesn’t explain how they managed it….” He looked up to Andre. “To be honest, this was made as a gift to me over the course of some thousand or more years.”
“Its makers admired you?”
“I … suppose you could say that.” He chuckled. “I gave them tools long ago according to my timeline, in their time of struggle. Apparently, I also Led them to materials and such, though I don’t remember that part. After I left them, some time much later, I found them again. They had an entire city built underground, decently advanced, and certainly didn’t forget the guidance I gave them. Honestly, it was quite strange to visit them after all that.”
“Faith can be strange sometimes.” Andre laughed. “You might say such things led to the heights of our power, and the arrogance so many have today.”
“The challenge of managing your hold on the world is difficult to most. Once you reach a level of power above anything else, you grow arrogant. Many suffer from that illusion, but even then, few ignore being shown otherwise. Most of the time, it breaks them.”
Andre nodded. “That is what I fear.”
Hammer Strike frowned. “Keep yourself prepared, Andre. I don’t know when things will go wrong, but they will. Your family and you have been so kind to me.”
“Then perhaps in return, you can do me a favor.” For once, Andre looked as old as he was said to be as he fixed his tired gaze on the Earth Pony. “Keep Celestia safe. The others, too, if you can. But above all else, keep her safe for me.”
Hammer Strike gave a knowing smirk. “I can promise you that.”
Andre smiled and nodded. “Thank you. Now, unfortunately, you can’t be seen walking around with a war hammer. I doubt any of us can pull that off,” Andre noted as he shuffled through a rack of items.
Hammer Strike nodded as he handed Ulkrusher back to the smith. “Keep it safe for me. It’s the only thing I have from home at this point.” He gave a soft smile. “Not even my favorite coat.”
“Maybe, but I don't feel comfortable with you walking around with nothing,” Andre said as his magic replaced Ulkrusher. “Can you use a knife?”
“I can use practically anything.”
Andre floated a small black cylinder to the Earth Pony. “Here. Much harder to detect than a war hammer, but just as deadly.”
Hammer Strike studied the cylinder for a moment before he pressed a segment of it down and flicked his hoof out. A blade of decent length emerged from it, along with a minor hoof guard to protect against blows and grapple with enemies. “Oh, now. I don’t think I’ve used or made a folding sword.”
“Not many consider it a valid weapon,” Andre noted.
“Anything can be a valid weapon if used correctly,” Hammer Strike retorted as he folded the blade back into its casing, then frowned. “I’ll need a method to hold it on me, a sheath or strap of some kind.”
“Well then, get to work,” the old Alicorn said with a smile. “Let’s see what you can do.”
Hammer Strike returned the gesture, then turned to the work bench. “Let’s see. Based off your materials, I should be able to make a simple jacket with decent plating hidden within.” He sorted through the tools mentally. “Free rein?”
“Everything but the blue crates,” Andre said, gesturing to several crates in the corner.
Hammer Strike gave a wide smile as he began sorting what he’d need. Once he was settled, he began his work using specific materials that he had scanned beforehand. He wanted some additional semblance of home, something that he left behind and felt naked for not having.
It took a few hours, but Hammer Strike smiled as he looked over his creation. The garment was a similar style to the long coat he had left behind in the present, though slightly shorter. The inside held a series of flexible metal plates positioned over particular sections of his body. A series of subtle pockets blended with the material to the point of being almost unnoticeable. He wasn’t able to fully recreate the original, but it proved a nice more modern variant. Instead of the traditional blue, he went with black and a gold trim. He also made a gray shirt on the side to work along with it. He smiled to himself as he put both on and fastened the clasps to ensure a proper fit. “That’s … much better.”
“Nice work. You clearly have some skill in your craft,” Andre nodded approvingly.
“I appreciate it.” He smiled. “Most of my life has been dedicated to most fields of creation, mostly between architecture, smithing, leatherworking, and weaving.”
“Is there anything else you’ll need?”
“You’ve given me more than I could ever ask for. I haven’t been able to practice my work anywhere or anyhow for the last seven years. I feel perfectly content. Really. I appreciate it, more than I could ever show.”
“If you need to make anything, my workshop is open to you. We craftsponies need to stick together.” He let out another booming laugh.
Hammer Strike smiled in return. “I’ll put it to good use.”
Hammer Strike hummed gently to himself as he sat comfortably in the living room marking notes in a notebook his hosts had been generous enough to procure for him. Occasionally, he would stop to draw another sketch of a street or thruway that he had encountered in his escorted trips through the city, mostly to commit the paths to memory as a just-in-case.
Before, it was difficult to remember locations and such, due to the augments flooding out his normal thoughts, but now he could focus on tasks properly. Compared to his previous notes, his penmanship had gone from jittery and somewhat poorly written to clear and meticulous. If he focused, he could write with perfect accuracy.
“Impressive,” Terra noted as she glanced over his shoulder. “You really are of a scholarly mind, aren’t you?”
Hammer Strike gave a brief turn to acknowledge her presence. “To be honest, I … was actually a Lord Protector before this. I even ran the reconstruction of a city.”
“That would explain your adaptable nature, though not necessarily your skills as a warrior. Did you have to go into battle often?”
“I … fought in a few wars.” Hammer Strike frowned as he thought to himself. “Gryphons, Minotaurs, Changelings, and the occasional bout between it all.”
“You’ve fought and defeated Gryphons? Then again, I don’t see why I’m so surprised at that. You killed Alicorns, so why not Gryphons, too?”
“It’s quite different, later in time. They developed a cruel nature, but instead of viewing Ponies as projects, they… looked at us as food.” He frowned. “They found towns near the border and would kidnap individuals to steadily feed themselves. They developed a list of toxins and such for torture as well. That one, I can confirm from experience.”
“They fall that far? I would have thought their honor would prevent them.”
“I don’t know what fully caused it, but we certainly ended that one as quickly as we could.” He frowned. “Even before coming here, I was heavily scarred, honestly. So, all these new additions just … started to blend in.”
“Just how much war have you seen, Hammer Strike? Is it always so violent where you come from?”
“It’s not that violent anymore. Our current rulers ensured that other nations were … content where they are. I’m a lot older than you would think for one of my race. A part of me has slowed my aging down quite a bit. Not forever, but I've honestly looked the same for the last … hundred years or so.”
“That’s quite the accomplishment for one of your kind. Is it a natural evolution or something unique to you specifically?”
“Do you remember how in my profile, it was remarked that I could control fire, despite everything they checked saying it was impossible?”
“Yes.”
Hammer Strike held his hoof up away from anything and a small orb of blue fire appeared at the end of it. “I possess something that none of your kind have figured out, but can replicate to a point.” The fire suddenly extinguished, leaving a red crystal in his hoof that he offered for Terra to look over.
“What is it?” she asked.
“Fire,” he replied simply. “Pure fire.”
“In a crystallized form?”
“Exactly.” The crystal dissipated. “Trust me when I say this. I’ve held back plenty. It’s a dangerous art, and it can go so far as to even destroy your soul, if tampered with incorrectly.”
“Metaphorically or literally?”
“Literally. And you can never recover from that.”
“Then why didn’t you use this to escape from the beginning? Even if you don’t want to destroy someone’s soul, it sounds like you are exceptionally knowledgeable about this art. Why stay, if you have the power to leave at any time?”
“It’s … not something you want to do so freely.” Hammer Strike looked to his hoof. “To destroy a soul is to do something absolute. Not even the gods can fully recreate what was lost. Not easily, at least. It’s horrific to be able to do something so easily. If I gave in and used it, I wouldn’t be able to stop myself. Anything, everything that stood against me would be gone in an instant, with no ability to fight it.”
Terra was silent for a time. “Then you really are strong, aren’t you?”
“Sometimes more than I like to be,” Hammer Strike replied after a moment. “But I used every ounce of it to try and protect those close to me. But here? Before meeting all of you, I had nobody, and the temptation had been there from the beginning. All your reports mention how I killed with Ulkrusher, my warhammer, but they don’t remark how I did it with my bare hooves in the beginning.”
“No, they don’t. So, you used this power to kill them and their souls both?”
“I didn’t use my power then.” Hammer Strike shook his head. “I have only used it once to destroy a soul, and I don’t want to do it again. What happened here? I used my strength, every bit of it that I could use, to break out of containment and anyone in my way.”
Terra nodded. “I’ll do my best to prevent anyone from discovering your secret, then. The council doesn't have that kind of restraint.”
“I appreciate it.” Hammer Strike gave a small smile.
“Any time. You continue to surprise me with every passing day. I can’t help but wonder where your kind will eventually go. If you’re any indicator, then they certainly do have an exceptionally bright evolution ahead of them.”
“I’m not the best example, to be honest.”
“Surely, there must be others who are, then.”
“Definitely, but it’s quite a drastic difference between them and me.”
“For better, worse, or something else?”
“When I say that I am an anomaly compared to most of my kind, I mean it.”
“Given what you’ve said of this power, I can assume nothing less. I hope you aren’t lonely, at least.”
“No, no. I had some close friends.” He gave a soft smile. “A wife as well.”
“And children?”
“No.”
Terra frowned. “You must miss them terribly.”
“Very much so.” He sighed. “But I’ll figure something out.”
“I wish I could access the spell formulae they used to bring you here in the first place, but I’m afraid I don’t have the clearance.”
“Don’t worry about it.” He gave her a small smile. “It’ll be fine in the end.”
“I’d ask you how you know, but I’ve seen that look enough on my father to know you wouldn’t answer.” She sighed. “Then I suppose I should ask the next question that comes to mind. What would you like for dinner?”
Celestia smiled as she and Hammer Strike passed through the rows of plants and trees within the greenhouse. The interior of the structure was far larger on the inside, thanks to a spatial compression charm, while various environmental controls maintained the humidity and heat required for the plants to flourish.
“And that’s the Angel’s Trumpet section,” the filly said proudly. “I can name every one of them, and they even play music, if you ask them right.”
“Do they now?”
Celestia grinned. “Wanna see?”
“I think we have time for it.” Hammer Strike gave a small smile.
The filly squealed in delight as she pranced excitedly on her hooves, then zipped through the air to hover over a particularly vibrant pink blossom “All right, Gabriella, are you ready for a concert?”
The blossom stirred and gradually raised itself until its opening faced the filly. It turned toward Hammer Strike and its stamen waved like an insect’s feelers. Immediately, it reared back and sounded a clarion call. A group of bright yellow blossoms to the right answered in chorus, followed immediately by the beat of several drums that emanated from the broad shimmering green leaves of the potted plants circled by the trumpets. Oranges, reds, blues, and purple all sounded their calls to join in a symphony that seemed to wake the whole greenhouse as flowers burst from buds and sprouts swiftly developed into proper seedlings.
Celestia’s laughter rang bell-like to the accompaniment of actual chimes that carried daintily through the air, though it was hard to tell exactly from which plant. “Wow, she must really like you.”
“So it seems?” Hammer Strike looked around at all the flowers surrounding him.
As the music came to a close, a vine snaked down to the pair from above, followed shortly by a pair of passion fruit pods that rolled along the track in a playful spiral, much to the filly’s delight as the vine flicked up at the last moment for the two to catch the fruit.
Celestia took a bite out of the fruit and swallowed. “Do you work with plants like Mommy does, Hammer Strike?”
“To be honest, not at all.” Hammer Strike looked to the fruit.
“Well, I bet you’d be really good at it. The plants sure seem to think so.” She giggled again. “Wanna help me gather some tea leaves?”
“Sure.”
Inside the house, Celestia found both her parents home surprisingly early. Tempus had his wings around his wife and hugged her. Both alicorns looked perturbed.
The filly approached slowly with her collection bag dangling from her neck. “Mommy, Daddy, is everything all right?”
Tempus put on a forced smile as he looked to his daughter. “Everything’s fine, Celestia. Mommy and Daddy just got some news today.”
Celestia cocked her head curiously. “What kind of news?”
Tempus looked inquiringly to Terra, unsure how to proceed.
“Well, honey, Mommy just got back from the doctor and, … you’re going to have a sister.”
Hammer Strike raised a brow questioningly at the way they were acting. He knew it was bound to happen, but they seemed so … worried.
“Really?” Celestia gasped as her eyes widened and sparkled.
“Uhuh.” Terra smiled as tears welled in her eyes and she embraced the filly with her wings.
“What are we gonna name her? When’s she gonna come? Are we going to share a room?”
“Slow down, honey,” Tempus said.
“But it’s so exciting! How can I slow down when I’m going to have my own baby sister?”
Tempus smiled as he put a hoof on her back. “I know it’s exciting, but Daddy and Mommy have a lot to talk about, okay?”
“Do you think you could give us some time to talk, Celestia? We need to discuss some things with Hammer Strike.”
“You do have some plants to sort through.” Hammer Strike gave a smile as he reasoned.
“Do I have to?” Celestia whined.
“Please, Celestia,” Terra requested.
Celestia sighed. “Okay.”
As soon as Celestia left the room, Hammer Strike turned his attention back to Terra and Tempus. “What’s the problem?”
The tears flowed freely down Terra’s cheeks, though she managed to keep herself from sobbing. “The problem is the same as the news.”
“I’m afraid I don’t understand the situation.” Hammer Strike frowned. “You’ll have to explain. Sorry.”
“I’m sure you realize that with a city on an island like this, we have to be very careful about population growth,” Tempus started.
“From what I can gather, due to the lifespan of you Alicorns, I’ll assume that you are limited in terms of how many kids you can have.”
“One, Hammer Strike. Only one,” Terra said.
“That’s problematic.” Hammer Strike frowned. “What’s the current outlook?”
“It was an accident, and the council’s taken that fact under advisement, but in exchange for allowing the baby to live, they—oh, it’s too difficult to say.” Terra broke eye contact and began an intense study of the floor.
“They want her altered to be prepared for military service when she reaches full growth at seven years old,” Tempus said.
“Altered? Seven years old?”
“Children are assigned their occupation. Before they’re born, their genetics are altered to best fit the requirements of the task. At seven years old, it’s expected a foal no longer requires their parental influence. In some cases, they’re left with their family. In others ....” Tempus trailed off.
“Taken to fill their role.” Hammer Strike hummed. “I see the issue at hoof here.”
“They want to start the treatment as soon as possible, and I can’t do a thing to stop them.”
Hammer Strike rubbed his head as he thought to himself. “Problematic. Not enough variables in play for me to make any suggestions, current outlook leans towards alteration in background, based off Tempus’ position, but it comes with heavy risks. Results would be known after the seven year period without fail.”
“I’m going to be allowed a little more time to set my affairs in order at the cells. Once I start to show, I’m effectively under house arrest to prevent others from knowing,” Terra said.
“Based on numbers of individuals known to the both of you, you have options, but as noted, these come with risks. Trusted individuals with high ranking may be difficult to find as well.” Hammer Strike continued to list off as the light coming from his eyes dimmed.
“Even with someone like that, they’ll still take her.” Terra sobbed. “I don’t want my baby to die in a war.”
“… Is there a need to stay here?”
“They’ll be watching the house day and night. I doubt we’ll be able to mount an escape easily.”
“Is there a need to stay?” Hammer Strike questioned once more.
“Where would we go?”
“Anywhere. The mainland has plenty to explore. I know of a number of locations that would prove useful.”
“How would we survive? We know nothing of what's outside this city,” Tempus said.
“I do,” Hammer Strike stated bluntly. “I’ve dealt with construction, and know how to build shelter. I’ve studied most forms of plantlife local to the mainland.”
“And what about Celestia? She won’t be able to defend herself. And then there’s the delivery itself to consider,” Terra said.
“Given the time needed to plan things out, it would be at least a few years before anything could be done, leaving your second child to be born and you to care for her. I was Lord Protector before I was brought here. Defending the four of you would be no issue.”
Terra frowned. “It … might work,” she conceded. “But we’ll have to be very careful. Father may be able to get ahold of some friends to help as well.”
“We’ll need to start putting resources aside immediately,” Tempus noted.
“If we do, it will have to be under a proper guise, possibly testing Hammer Strike’s limits in some way, or maybe social interaction in town?” She frowned. “This will definitely take some careful planning.”
“I’ll plan some things out mentally for alternatives.”
“I’ll work with you, if you like. I’ll need something to take up my time while I’m stuck here, after all.”
Hammer Strike nodded in return.
So began a desperate plan to save an innocent life.
A few weeks later, Tempus approached his wife. A data pad hovered in his magical grasp.
“I’ve come up with something, but it’s risky,” he noted.
“And what we’re planning already isn’t?” Terra countered.
“How much do you know about the work with Hammer Strike?” Tempus asked.
“Just about everything the files had to tell. The torture methods, the operations, details on the implants and how they were to effect his body. Why do you ask?”
“So, you didn’t know about the DNA grafting experiments.”
“They tried grafting DNA into him?”
“No, they tried grafting his DNA onto other specimens.” Tempus levitated out several honest-to-Faust sheets of paper from a satchel and slid them to his wife.
“You wrote down copies of the data?” she asked as she pursued them, then frowned. “This can’t be right. There are over forty different specimens listed here.”
Tempus nodded. “They wanted something they could control with his level of power. Out of all these specimens, most died. The few that survived showed to be resistant to all forms of would-be control. Not even treatments to induce docility proved successful. His genetics make such manipulations nigh-impossible.”
Terra’s face was grim as she looked up from the sheets. “Have you told him yet?”
“Not yet.” Tempus shook his head. “I thought it best we talk about the possibility before us first.”
“And what were you considering?”
“Think about it. We could graft his DNA into our child,” Temepus said. “Denying them control.”
“And what guarantee do we have that she wouldn’t be aborted in the attempt? You saw in these files. The ones who couldn’t take it died, and the ones who did became highly unstable.”
“Look at the reports. The data isn’t random. There is a common sequence in the survivors. It’s a miracle no one’s realized this.”
“And what guarantee do we have that our daughter will have the same strain?”
“I … I don't. I just have faith. I prayed about it, and I'm sure Bonnie’s wing is on my back with this.”
“It’s too risky.” Terra shuddered. “I know she was an accident, but I don’t want to lose her.” She rubbed her stomach gently with a hoof. “If you really want to approach this as a possibility, we should bring it up with Hammer Strike first, anyway. It’s his DNA, after all.”
“If that's what you want.”
“It is. I don’t want to take any chances with this until we’ve set up every safety net we can think of.”
“Very well, then how do we approach this with him?”
“The same way we have everything else. We ask.”
Hammer Strike stood in Andre’s workshop, scanning at the mess that laid before him. Tools were disorganized and scattered, and new cracks formed along the metal surfaces, having been struck by something with an intense amount of force. Something had clearly happened, but he was unsure if he wanted to ask or not.
“… Today a bad day?” Hammer Strike questioned.
“This generation. No respect for nature, no respect for the gods, and now this!” Andre bellowed as he brought his enormous smithing hammer down on a metal work table, shattering it with the impact.
“I take it something treading on the territory of the divine has occurred?” Hammer Strike questioned as he wiped his coat free of any stray shrapnel.
Andre let out a drawn out sigh, then stood still for a good three minutes before he finally calmed down. “Come with me.”
Hammer Strike simply shrugged and followed. Andre led him through the workshop and into a small alcove that he guessed was Andre’s living space. There was a simple bed, an area to prepare food, and a table with a few chairs. Andre gestured to the table as he retrieved a bottle and a couple glasses. He set a glass before each of them and filled them with an amber liquid.
“You know about the gods, but what you probably aren't aware of are those just below the gods, the ones who keep the balance of the fundamental forces.”
“The embodiments?”
Andre stared at him blankly for a moment. “So, you know about the embodiments?” Then he took a pull of his drink.
Hammer Strike gave a light shrug before grabbing his glass. “Not all of them, but some like to stop by from time to time. Mostly Death. Not the current one, mind you. There appears to be an Alicorn mare currently in the loop, rather than the one I know.”
“Well, then, you know how important their roles in the balance are. These idiots pulled embodiments from their plane, forced them into physical forms.”
“Wait, literally forced them into the physical world?”
Andre nodded. “And bound them to forms.”
Hammer Strike furrowed his brow. “Which ones?”
“As far as I can tell, Harmony and Discord.”
Hammer Strike opened his mouth for a moment before closing it. “That explains a few things,” he muttered before simply downing his drink.
“They have no idea what this could do to the world.” Andre sighed.
“Yeah … Discord certainly leaves his mark on things,” he commented with a frown.
“You’re aware of him?”
“I’ve interacted with him from my time.”
“Well, I suppose at least the world won’t be destroyed for this.” Andre sighed. “Still, it’s almost blasphemous.”
“Yeah…” Hammer Strike frowned. “But thankfully, everything finds a way.” He looked to his glass. “What even was that, by the way?”
“Thrice distilled liquor made from some of the greenhouse fruits.”
“Damned weak,” Andre said. “Like everything else about this place.”
“I think you’d get along with the dwarves. They know how to brew.”
“Dwarves?” Andre asked as his eyebrow raised.
“Yep.” Hammer Strike nodded. “I can only partially recreate their stuff. It’s surprising the amount of work they put into it, and what rare resources they use for it.”
“That's certainly a species I’ve never heard of.” Andre chuckled. “You lead an interesting life, my friend.”
“They’re very interesting.” He chuckled. “They made Ulkrusher.”
“That … would explain a lot. I’ve seen many styles of crafting things, but nothing quite like that.”
“Helps that they literally never see the sun. Underground their whole life.”
“I suppose that would do it.” Andre chuckled. “Sounds like they know how to live.”
Hammer Strike hummed aloud as he took the bottle of alcohol in his hoof. After studying it for a moment, he focused his attention on it thaumically. His other hoof ignited briefly as a crystal formed and disappeared in a moment. After a second, he shrugged and placed it back on the table. “See how you like that.”
Andre lifted an eyebrow but poured a small bit into his glass and drank it. He let out a whistle. “Now that has some bite to it!” he exclaimed.
Hammer Strike gave a shrug. “Best I can do for now. How’s work been?”
“Slow, thankfully. I haven’t had to put up with anyone.”
“Some strange parts sitting across your tables in the main section.” Hammer Strike hummed. “Looked like artificial limbs.”
“Ah, yes, … those.” Andre chuckled. “I suppose I should introduce you.”
Hammer Strike raised a brow as Andre stood from his chair and led them back into the main workshop.
“You can come out now,” Andre called.
“Haven’t seen you freak out like that in a while.” The air seemed to be shrugged away before it wavered into black fabric, revealing a small purely metallic figure with bright glowing blue eyes. Most of his body was hidden by a black cloak covered in card suits, save for his smooth faceplate, which held a smear of blue paint in a V-like design across his face. The top of his head held a single horn jutting from the forehead. It was triangular in nature with a surprisingly flat tip.
“Hi. Name’s Cayde. You must be the guy who’s freaking the Alicorns out.” He stuck a metallic hoof out to Hammer Strike.
Hammer Strike raised a brow for a moment before returning the hoofshake. “What was your first clue?”
As hammerstrike shook it, said hoof slipped off the leg and clattered to the floor. “The fact they sent a bunch of people after Terra when she started looking into you.” He chuckled.
Hammer Strike looked to the hoof for a second before lifting it back up and slotting it back in place, albeit temporarily. “Were you the one following us from time to time?”
“Someone had to, and the old man might be powerful, but kinda hard not to notice him,” he said, gesturing to Andre.
“Stealth unit works well. I can tell you that much,” Hammer Strike commented.
“Unfortunately, not well enough.” Cayde chuckled. “A few of the goons ended up hearing me. Still not sure why the old man gave me pain receptors.” Cayde looked to andre.
Andre shrugged. “It helps you react better.”
“Yeah, yeah. We all know the truth,” Cayde grumbled.
“At least it lets you know when you need repairs?” Hammer Strike offered.
Cayde opened his mouth and held up a hoof, only to close it again, unsure how to answer.
“Not wrong, am I?” Hammer Strike replied as he watched the hoof slowly droop once again. “I remember seeing other types. How many classes of robots or androids are there?”
“Oh, well, there’s me, the perfect one, obviously. Then there’s Zavala. He’s the big guy. Strong, but not nearly as handsome as I am. And then there’s Ikora. She does all the weird magic stuff. Kinda cool. Never ceases to freak ’em out.”
“Separation of classes based on the three tribes.” Hammer Strike frowned. “Interesting for them to do.”
“Most aren't quite this … unique,” Andre noted. “Naturally, I've done some tinkering.”
“Quite obvious. He’s too lifelike.”
“Better that than a lifeless husk,” Andre noted.
“Definitely.”
“Hey, uh, guys? Still here, you know. Kinda in need of repairs,” Cayde cut in just before his leg detached once again, clanging to the floor.
“Yeah, I’ll get on that.” Andre laughed as he levitated tools over. “You ever wanted to learn how to repair an equidroid?”
“You know, can’t say I have, but you’ve got my attention now,” Hammer Strike replied as a smile pulled across his face.
Hammer Strike sighed to himself as he looked to the clock once more. Terra and Tempus were both late from work, meaning that they were most likely held behind for some reason, potentially some alterations to their schedule outside of their control.
Terra had plenty of tests and procedures to go through, due to the pregnancy, leading to plenty of time away from the house. But with that came more opportunity for her and Tempus to work on their side of planning.
He wasn’t entirely within the loop on everything they were doing, but he knew that whatever it was, it was for the better.
However, it left him with Celestia more often than he was used to in the last couple years. And the young Alicorn was very curious.
“Hammer Strike, I’ve been wondering. How did you learn to talk so fast?”
“What do you mean?” Hammer Strike raised a brow.
“Well, I learned in class about how there are Ponies like you somewhere out there, beyond the island. But my teachers say you don’t speak like us. So, I wanted to know how you knew when we met.” She scuffed her hoof nervously on the floor. “If … that’s okay to ask.”
“It’s perfectly fine.” He gave a gentle smile. “I’m very different from most of my kind, as I know many languages. I studied for years to understand and translate most languages you can find.”
“So where’d you find ours?”
“A book, found some time ago, in a land far, far away from here.”
“Oh.” She furrowed her brow in thought. “Were there other books, too, in this other land, other things to learn?”
“Plenty,” he commented in Draconic. The smile widened.
Celestia cocked her head. “Was that supposed to be another language, too?”
Hammer Strike nodded. After a moment, he looked to the clock and hummed. “If it takes them any longer, it’ll be quite a late dinner.”
“Maybe we should make something for them?”
Hammer Strike hummed as he walked into the kitchen and opened the fridge to look over ingredients. “I could probably make something, if it takes them more than twenty minutes.”
“Maybe we should try something from your country!” Celestia beamed eagerly at the idea.
Hammer Strike hummed before shrugging. “I could. I’m certain they wouldn’t be upset to coming home to a cooked meal almost complete or actually complete.” He looked to the clock one more time before shaking his head. “Yeah, I’ll give it a try. Hopefully, they won’t mind.”
Terra and Tempus both looked exceedingly tired as they clopped into the house. However, both were pleasantly surprised when they discovered a fully prepared meal waiting for them at the table. They smiled gratefully at Hammer Strike for his efforts, though their smiles couldn’t quite reach their eyes. He knew that look well, and what it likely meant.
He wasn’t disappointed. When dinner was finished and cleared, and Celestia was put to bed, the two parents gathered with their guest for a council.
“There is one more thing we need to talk about.” Tempus sighed.
“I take it that it involves me in some capacity?” Hammer Strike questioned.
“Hammer Strike, are you aware they’ve been experimenting on your genetic code?” Tempus asked.
Hammer Strike reared his head back. “Wait, they were?”
Tempus slowly presented the Earth Pony with several sheets of paper.
Hammer Strike scanned over the documents briefly before pushing them back, not wanting to read more.
“I didn’t know about this until recently,” Tempus explained. “You had a right to know.”
Hammer Strike rubbed the side of his head. “I have too many gaps in my memories from my time as a test subject. I couldn’t tell when it happened.”
“However, there’s a reason I’m showing this to you, not just out of moral obligation. There’s something I'd like your permission for.” Tempus proceeded to explain his idea and the possible benefits of it.
Hammer Strike frowned at the idea as he thought through it himself. “Would there be any notable alterations physically?”
“I can't be totally sure, but it’s unlikely,” Tempus said.
After a moment of mental debate, Hammer Strike nodded. “All right, whatever you need.”
“You … you mean that?” Terra asked.
“You both gave me, in a way, a new life. Whatever you need from me, I’ll supply what I can.”
Terra’s hoof went to her mouth, and shortly after, she burst into a sobbing mess.
“Thank you Hammer Strike,” Tempus said as he comforted his wife.
Hammer Strike gave a nod and a smile in return.
Edna was a bit of a puzzle to Hammer Strike. Her nature reminded him of Rarity, but not to the point where he could actually see the mare in her. The two walked together as the squat Alicorn directed him through a series of passages that reverberated with the clopping of their hooves.
“What I am about to show you is a location that few have ever laid eyes on in the empire. I expect you to maintain the same secrecy to which they are held. Can you do this?” E asked.
“I can manage that.” Hammer Strike nodded.
A green light passed in a thin sheet over the pair, followed by a distinctive whistling chirp. “And it would appear that my security system agrees.” She approached a portion of wall and tapped it with her hoof. The metal rippled and reformed to reveal a keypad, hoof scanner, retinal scanner, and a microphone. She jabbed the keys in swift order using the stick he had seen her holding earlier. The imperceptible pulse of energy along the circuits of the object confirmed an extra layer of security in the form of a unique and exceptionally fashionable key. She then placed her hoof over the scanner and waited for the verification to go through and repeated the process with the retinal scanner by raising her glasses with a hoof. Finally, she spoke into the microphone. “Edna Mode.” She rolled her eyes when a legion of turrets emerged from every corner of the hallway. Fortunately, Hammer Strike remained unperturbed. “And guest.” The turrets quickly retracted themselves as a larger wall segment retracted and hissed open on either side. “I would love to get rid of that feature, but it is perhaps one of the only things that would prevent my genius from being harvested by a certain group of vultures.” She sighed. “Well, come in. Come, come, come, come, come.” She waved imperiously with her hoof. “I do not have all day, and neither do you.”
The lights flickered on with a familiar hum as Edna strode swiftly onto the smooth reflective flooring. A section of flooring was lit by a series of pale white panels that lay beneath a veritable sheath of mechanical arms and scanners. However, the only sign of surgical implements in this particular device was what appeared to be a needle. The rest were either designed to guide a subject through or scan over the subject’s biology to generate a precise 3D model with exact measurements and a biological readout.
A large portion of the room had been segmented off by a clear barrier that allowed one the perfect view of what Hammer Strike assumed to be a showroom or test chamber of some kind, judging by the tracks that ran through it. Circuitry, components, swashes of fabric, magical foci, engraving tools, and other items each lay either strewn across work tables or placed in their respective storage compartments and readily organized with an efficiency that bordered on mania. A series of Alicorn mannequins were easily shoved back into storage with the negligent wave of Edna’s head, followed by the smooth swoosh of a closing barrier. Giant looms and other devices quickly retracted or folded out of the way to allow easy access for the pair as they advanced on a small table where a tea tray and two chairs awaited them before the chamber.
“Come, sit,” Edna said as she took her own seat. It wasn’t exactly a request, but neither was it an order, merely a statement of fact that carried the weight of inevitability.
Hammer Strike raised a brow but simply followed suit and took a seat.
“Cream and sugar?” she asked as she levitated the teapot and vessels in question toward his cup.
Hammer Strike shook his head. “Neither. I’m fine.”
“Very well,” she said primly and lowered the two vessels. “Now, I believe it is time you and I had a proper chat, and I can think of no safer place than this.” She peered pointedly at Hammer Strike. “You have traveled through time. That much is already known. However, I also sense about you the quality that few of your species possess. You carry time with you.” She took a casual sip of her cup. “How many years?” she asked bluntly.
“Hundred and something.” Hammer Strike shrugged.
“I see.” She passed a hoof imperiously to the stallion. “Cup,” she ordered.
Hammer Strike did as requested.
Edna peered deeply into the dregs. “Hmm. Yes, it is as I expected it to be.” She lowered the cup to the tray and stared intently at the stallion. “You are hounded by death and destiny, yet you have torn right through them. There is love and pain and loss when I look into the past of that cup. But, as for the future, it is clear you will work with a single-mindedness toward a particular goal. One is inclined to ask what that goal might be.” She took a surreptitious sip of her tea, then looked almost conspiratorially at the Earth Pony as a hint of a smile curled her lips. “What are you striving to do, Hammer Strike?”
“Simply what I can,” Hammer Strike replied. “It’s all I can do.”
“And the goal you seek?”
“I suppose to eventually return to where I’m from, one way or another. How long that will take, I don’t know.”
Edna hummed to herself, then leaned back in her chair. “Very well, darling. You’ve answered my questions. It seems only fitting that I should answer some of yours. Tell me, what would you like to know?”
Hammer Strike shrugged. “There isn’t much I feel the need to ask. I suppose if I had to ask, I’m curious as to the way you work.”
“In what way? Are you referring to my methods of crafting or more to my personal functions?”
“I suppose methods of crafting for now.”
She smiled. “You have seen my machine over there, yes?” She gestured toward the many-armed monstrosity. “That is where my real work begins. Military uniforms are so boring. Mass produced. There is no effort, no passion, no soul.” She shook her head, then smirked. “Now, when I work for a client, on the other hoof, a personal project, that is where this comes in. That machine is an intricate scanner on a scale far beyond what you will find in the rest of the empire. It is designed to take an intimate scan of the body, giving me a genetic as well as dimensional template for a person. It also gives me the statistics on movement capabilities and other facts that you will doubtless find very boring for me to list off here.” She motioned with a sweeping wing. “I use this information and transfer the data into the rest of my lab, where I then decide upon a proper design. In case you did not notice, I have a certain flare for style and functionality. As young Andre would put it, the best knife is one that cuts well and wears better.”
Hammer Strike hummed. “That’s … quite useful, actually. To determine everything about the individual would let you create a mostly perfect outfit or set of equipment.”
“Naturally, the technology does have its limits. Machines are only that, after all. Much like your smithing tools, it requires the proper touch to mold the materials into their optimal form.” She bore her teeth in a grin. “I am infamous for my efficiency, a trait that I see you also share.” She motioned toward his coat with a wing. “A bit crude, but the foresight is there. You are self-taught?”
Hammer Strike gave a faint frown as he looked to his coat. “Yeah.”
“And this is your first attempt at a design?”
“No. I used to have a long coat that I made before as well.”
“The seams are stitched well. No simple feat for a Pony without the deftness of a horn to guide the needle and thread,” she noted idly. “And hidden armor plating serves as an excellent means to protect against unseen attack. A most effective design, given your civilization’s current rate of development.”
“As I mentioned to Terra, I am not a good example of my kind, even in the present.”
“Well, naturally, darling. You are an exception. It takes a very special Pony indeed to defy fate. Few, if any are ever born with that power, and those that are usually are killed before they have the chance to realize their potential.”
“Destiny for you and Death for me. I like to invite her to tea every few weeks. She has grown very tired lately. That is … concerning. But it is an inevitable consequence of war, or so she tells me. Still, I wonder.”
“She won’t be around for much longer.” Hammer Strike shook his head.
“Ah, a pity. Though I wondered when she would pass on the mantle. Do you know?”
Hammer Strike shook his head. “Sometime in the future, but before an issue that springs on the mainland.”
“I see. Tell me, have you found any other divine artifacts in your travels?”
“Not really.” Hammer Strike paused. “Well, there’s something that was somewhat out there in nature. It was a sort of die, twenty-sided. Roll it and something comes from it.”
“How curious. Can you tell me more about this item?”
“Their color varies, and I admittedly haven’t seen enough of them to figure out if the color means anything, but I found one while a companion of mine had received two. He ended up rolling one out of curiosity, and from his description, it burst with light and a pain welled over him before it settled and a blade lay in place of the die. It was bound to his very soul. While the one I found appeared out of nowhere, and when rolled presented me with a small amber-colored gemstone in the shape of the sun that limitlessly supplied mana, albeit at a slow constant rate. I didn’t feel any form of pain, so I’m unsure on the entirety of how it works.”
“Very interesting.” Edna narrowed her gaze shrewdly. “Such magic would be very potent. You are fortunate to have found any, let alone three. But, given how you are and what I have learned about you, I suppose I should not be surprised.” She levitated a plate toward the stallion. “Cookie?”
He shook his head. “No, thanks.”
Hammer Strike blinked suddenly from where he was seated. Everything had shifted in some manner. It felt slightly colder, and the air felt heavier. He was seated inside the living room, having been waiting for the return of Terra, Tempus, and Celestia. After a moment, he stood up and examined the room around him. The lights had grown dimmer at an offset of color. He moved toward the window and gently pulled open the curtains to reveal a darkened baren mess of land before a vast empty sky. Chunks floated lazily in the distance.
“Doing better, Hammer Strike?” a familiar voice asked.
Hammer Strike snapped his attention behind him to find an old friend once more. “Dis—sorry, Outsider, as you prefer now. I’m much better, honestly. The stabilizer they put in me calmed my mind.”
“I see you have found people you can talk to.” He smiled. “I imagine that helps your sanity immensely as well.”
“It does.” Hammer Strike nodded. “How have things been for you?”
“Not sure how I'd describe it. Standing outside and looking in, I see so much. I know so many things. I can be here talking with you and witnessing the making of the universe at the same instant. It’s … strange.”
“I’d expect as much.” Hammer Strike frowned. “It’s just as strange to hear of a mortal who becomes an embodiment.”
“You know they won’t last,” Outsider noted neutrally. “Everything here is doomed.”
“I know that much.” Hammer Strike nodded his agreement. “How, though, is the question.”
“I thought you’d have guessed by now.”
“They had an abnormal amount of thaumic energy in the time I came from, but the damage there wasn’t thaumic in nature.”
“Then I suppose you’ll have to consider it more.” The Outsider nodded.
“Hopefully, my plans can take into effect before whatever it is.” Hammer Strike sighed. “It’ll be at least six to seven years before it will take off.”
“One more piece is about to be put on the board,” the Outsider told him.
“Luna is coming soon,” Hammer Strike agreed. “They went to the hospital some time ago before our talk.”
“Keep an eye on her. And keep your ears open. There are objects you will need when you leave, things you need to be aware of.”
“It’ll be difficult, but I’ll try.” Hammer Strike shrugged.
“A gift.” The outsider raised a hoof and, for a moment, Hammer Strike’s eyes flickered. “When the time comes, you will see what must come with you. This is the last gift I can give right now. Make good use of it.”
Hammer Strike blinked a few times, his vision having cut out for a split second caused him some discomfort. “What do you—?”
He looked up and noted that he was seated on the couch once more. Whatever Outsider did, he couldn’t be sure about it, but it left him feeling strange. He tried to focus on the feeling in his eyes, only for the world to suddenly lose color around him, with figures appearing in the distance.
Alicorn figures.
He could see the family next door preparing dinner, at least from what he gathered by the motions. As he looked around, he noted this new vision seemed to have a decent range to it, though it was quite a distance enough as is.
He eventually settled onto the main road outside the house, only to note three, no, four figures moving toward the house. Two adults, one child, and one infant.
He unlocked the door for them before returning to his seated position on the couch near the door. He attempted to focus on the feeling once more and finally watched it fade as color returned to the world.
Tempus was the first one through the door, carefully making sure there was nothing to stumble his wife. Terra cradled a tiny bundle in her wings while Celestia looked up at the mare, then to Hammer Strike with a big smile.
“Hammer Strike, say hello to our newest member of the family,” Terra said in a soft voice. She gently pulled the folds of cloth aside to reveal a tiny muzzle covered in blue fur and the barest nub of a horn. Her mane was a midnight blue that bordered on black.
“What’s her name?” Hammer Strike asked, knowing full well what the answer would be.
“Her mane and fur are dark, but her eyes shine like stars in the night.” She smiled sweetly. “Her name is Luna.”
He gave a faint chuckle. “Quite fitting, if I may say so. Celestia and her sister Luna.”
“Daughters of the sky.” She raised Celestia in her magic and pulled her into an embrace with the baby. “Both my precious treasures.”
“You’ll certainly have your hooves full.” He smirked.
“It helps having such a wonderful houseguest. You’re practically an uncle to Celestia already.”
“Yeah, I’m not too sure how good I’d be with an infant, however.” He chuckled in return.
“You think you’re worried now, wait till she starts having her magic spikes.” Terra giggled.
“Yeah, I know, and I dread that. Thankfully, I can also manage it.”
“So why dread, if you can manage?”
“I won’t be the only one effected by it,” he finished with a smirk.
“Yes, but I’ve been through it once before,” Terra shot back. Her smile faltered slightly. “I think it might be best for me to lie down now. The birthing took a lot out of me.”
“That’s fair. I’ll be up for some time, or the entire night, like usual, if anything happens.”
Terra smiled gratefully. “I appreciate that.” Then, with her husband’s support, the two made their way to the stairs and their waiting bedroom with Celestia close on their hooves.
“Seven year timer, starting now.” Hammer Strike hummed as he grabbed his notebook off the table. “These will definitely be some interesting times ahead of us….”
Luna giggled from her point of victory on Hammer Strike’s stomach after having tracked down her pray in an intense game of hide and seek. Now she faced the devastating attack that was the tickling cuddle … of death!
“Hammer Strike, did you let her find you again?” Celestia asked in a scolding tone.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Luna blew her sister a raspberry, which prompted a frustrated pout. “How’s she supposed to learn if you keep letting her find you?”
“You’ve got to start somewhere,” Hammer Strike offered in response. “Did the same with you, albeit at an older age, lest you forget.”
Celestia gasped. “You promised not to go easy on me!”
“After I had gone easy on you.” Hammer Strike smirked. “I’m sure you noticed it suddenly getting a lot harder.”
“I still did it, didn’t I?”
“Eventually, but you also had an eight-year lead on your sister.” Hammer Strike chuckled. “Don’t worry. I’ll give you both a great challenge in the future when you’re both old enough.”
Celestia’s eyes lit up at the promise, even as Hammer Strike tossed Luna into the air and caught her again repeatedly. “What kind of challenge?”
“I’ll look into invisibility. How about that?” He chuckled. “I can’t spoil it just yet.”
Celestia grinned. “Challenge accepted.”
Luna burbled and clapped her hooves in glee.
“And what’s got everybody so excited all of a sudden? I could hear Luna’s laughter all the way from the door.” Terra smiled as Luna was wrapped in her magic and pulled over for an embrace, followed swiftly by her opening her wings to welcome Celestia.
“Hammer Strike said he was going to give us a big challenge!” Celestia smiled. “I can’t wait.”
“Celestia seems to believe my current games of hide and seek are too simple.” Hammer Strike chuckled.
“She does learn quickly, doesn’t she?” Terra smiled and patted Celestia on the head. “And speaking of learning, how are your studies coming along, young lady?”
“They’re … coming,” Celestia said evasively.
Terra chuckled. “And why do I get the feeling those studies involved watching your little sister?”
Celestia blushed.
“Well, now I’m home to watch her, and you need to get to your homework.” She brushed the filly with a wing. “Go on, now. Scoot.”
Celestia sighed. “Yes, Mommy.” The tread of her hooves was audible as she clopped slowly up the stairs.
Hammer Strike gave a brief chuckle before stretching. A few cracks snapped from him before he righted himself. “So, how was your day?”
“Oh, not bad. Superiors breathing down my neck, people trying to find fault with my work and blow it out of proportion, the usual.” She shrugged. “And yours?”
“A rough match of wits against two opponents.” Hammer Strike chuckled. “Usual.”
“And have you spoken with Aunt E lately?”
“Negative, since she doesn’t stop by often, nor do you leave your tablet here, since you kind of need it for work.” Hammer Strike shrugged.
“Fair enough. And Cayde?”
Hammer Strike shrugged again. “I think he mostly sticks to following and keeping you secure.”
“Really?”
“Definitely.”
“You know, I did wonder why we’ve been experiencing a drop in security presence lately. He is scarily good at what he does.”
“That, I can agree on. The cloaking module is remarkable.”
“Since when did he have a cloaking module?”
“A while now,” Hammer Strike replied simply. “Helps him with his task.”
Terra sighed. “How long?”
“He’s been around apparently since you started looking into my profile.”
“It figures Father would do something like that.” She sighed. “But I supposed I should be grateful. Because of him, we’re both still alive, and you’re here with us. That wouldn’t be possible otherwise.”
Hammer Strike nodded in return. “Progress on the ‘external testing,’ as I believe you called it?”
“Small, of necessity, but bearing fruit. It helps being self-sufficient with our garden here. Tempus is tinkering with his project as well. He seems very excited about it.”
“Five years remaining. We’ve got some time to work with.”
“I still prefer to get as much done as possible as soon as possible.”
“Completely understandable. I’ve marked things down to give us roughly six months of extra time, as they are likely to have it to the date at an eighty-percent accuracy.”
“Always good to err on the side of caution,” Terra agreed. She smiled then and produced a pink cupcake with extra frosting and a single blue-and-gold-striped candle. “Before I forget, I wanted to give you this.”
Hammer Strike blinked in confusion as he took hold of the cupcake and candle. “… I’m afraid I don’t understand.”
“I didn’t think of it last year, but it seems only fair that we celebrate.” Her smile widened. “It’s been exactly three years to the day since you joined our household.”
“I…” Hammer Strike looked to the cupcake. “Has it been three years already?”
“Shocking, isn’t it?” Terra chuckled. “You should probably expect a few more visitors throughout the day.”
“I dread it,” Hammer Strike replied with a weak smile.
“Good. We’ll relish the torture as we partake in sugury confections and revelry. Care to help with the cake?”
Hammer Strike looked down the blade of his folding sword. He had done some work to it, but only minor bits here and there to ensure that nobody would notice anything too outlandish. At the moment, he gave it an abnormal level of sharpness, having perfectly worked at it for the past few months.
“It looks like you’ve been taking care of it,” Andre commented.
“Of course.” Hammer Strike flipped the blade over again to study it. “I prefer my equipment to always be in top shape.”
“Always a good policy.” Andre nodded. “You can never be sure when it might save your life.”
“Definitely.” Hammer Strike nodded. “I’ll need to look into some alternative for ranged in the future. Perhaps throwing knives, if need be, though it was never really my shtick.”
“I might have an idea for that.” Andre chuckled. “So, tell me, how is everyone doing? I haven’t been able to check on them recently.”
“They’ve been fine. Celestia is getting along with Luna quite well.”
“That is good. Those two will need each other in the coming years, I believe.”
“Certainly. We’ve got less than two years to finish up everything before—” Hammer Strike was cut off as a sudden rush of energy pulsed through the building. His vision distorted to static for a moment before it attempted to resettle. He felt sick. Everything in his body felt off as the wave left him. Embers licked off his coat at the invading energy in an attempt to keep him safe.
The wave of energy was thaumic in nature.
The color of his eyes drifted to red as he felt fear well up in him once more. Whatever they did grabbed the attention of outside forces. He could feel them taking note of the island. His breathing was shaky as he tried to calm himself.
“What was that?” Andre practically shouted.
“Wave of energy, nature is known, uncertainty, major problems,” Hammer Strike automatically replied as he tried to stabilize himself.
“Deep breaths, Hammer Strike,” Andre instructed. “Center yourself.”
“I’m fine,” Hammer Strike replied. “I’m fine. I’m fine,” he repeated. After a moment, the color of his eyes shifted once more back to blue. “We … we need to move the timescale up.”
“What was that?” Andre repeated.
“I…” Hammer Strike didn’t know how much he wanted to say. “It’s thaumic energy,” he commented softly.
“Go on.”
“The mysterious field of energy I use is thaumic. They shouldn’t have the knowledge to tamper with the same forces unless they’ve begun to figure it out.” Hammer Strike finally stood upright. “We’re in severe danger, Andre. There are forces out there as dangerous as the gods, if not more so, and they feed on thaumic energy.”
Andre’s face became grim. “What can we do?”
“Accelerate the plans as quickly as possible. If they’re tampering with this, there’s a sixty-three percent chance that the upper echelons will be focusing more on their breakthrough to give us all more leeway.”
“I was planning on saving this, but I think this may be the time.” Andre sighed as he retrieved something from one of the many containers and slid it across the table to Hammer Strike.
Hammer Strike stopped the object in his hooves, only to realize he was holding the grip of a pistol. It was drastically different, though. He looked down the sights before shifting to a side view, ensuring he kept the barrel pointed toward the ground. The handle was inlaid with a polished wood that had been varnished and sealed, then reinforced with spells of preservation to keep the component from wearing. The remainder of the gun was a smooth polished dark metal with a series of small bumps that diffused the light to reduce reflection. The thrum of magic flowed through them like a river, indicating a micro-precision of rune work that should have been impossible.
Five holes pulsed with blue light on either side of the weapon’s barrel to draw in the ambient magical energies that lingered in the air and store it within. The gun had no need for a magazine, yet had a reloadable cartridge that, when removed, revealed a series of high quality focal gems for storing spare magic and channeling it into the weapon directly, should the ambient gathering be depleted. An accessories rail sat beneath the muzzle, awaiting any future modifiers that Andre might produce for it.
“Remarkable,” Hammer Strike commented.
“It should handle your ranged weapon needs,” Andre stated. “But you’ll probably need some prac—”
Hammer Strike had taken aim toward the Alicorn practice dummy. He ensured he kept the pistol pointed away from Andre before he snapped upright and took two quick shots. One to the head, and one to the center of the chest.
“You’ve encountered a weapon like this before?”
Hammer Strike paused as he realized his mistake. “Technology Comprehension Augment is working overtime on this right now,” he explained as his cover.
“Of course,” Andre said, though his voice sounded anything but convinced. “Anyway, this weapon should handle your needs for a ranged weapon. It’s also more reliable than throwing blades.”
“I can see that,” Hammer Strike replied as he moved back to the table. “I’ll need to adjust my coat and add a sheath for it.”
“Shouldn’t be too difficult for you.”
Hammer Strike nodded as he got to work, trying to keep his mind off of the major issue at hand. He figured out a potential case for what destroys the island, but he didn’t want to be around for it, nowhere near it, not even within several hundred miles.
The way into E’s home was, as usual, heavily guarded. Fortunately, E had already allowed him access whenever he needed, and this was no different. The laser gate dropped to reveal the familiar shape of a large Alicorn in power armor.
“Teller, how goes things?” Hammer Strike asked as he approached.
“About as usual as one would expect, given all the higher-ups having been focusing on new fields of magic,” he replied simply with a shrug. “Are you heading in?”
“Yeah.”
“You should be clear. I’ve got a few errands to run.”
Hammer Strike nodded as he passed the warrior.
E was already enjoying her usual cup of tea when Hammer Strike entered the living room. “Hammer Strike,” she acknowledged. “What brings you by, darling?”
“We need to talk, E. We’ve got major issues on the horizon.”
Edna sighed. “There always are when a civilization gets too large. Power grabbing, gambling, shadow politics.” She sighed. “So predictable. But that is the nature of things. So, tell me, what have the children done this time?”
“That blast of energy that went through the whole island? That was a power that no one should use as freely as they will. I’ve heard talk of a new field of magic being discovered, but they have no idea what they are about to tamper with.”
Edna lowered her glasses down the bridge of her nose to peer at Hammer Strike as the lenses reflected the light. “And you do.” She sat back in her chair and returned the lenses to a proper position. “You’d best tell me what you know, then, darling. Your tone and body language lean toward fear. And we both know that you do not fear easily.” She levitated a cup for him. “Tea?”
Hammer Strike accepted the cup and took a seat. “To put it simply, there are forces that are noted to be equivalent to the gods, but do not match the concept of a devil or a demon. They are instead beyond the material plane, ever watching as they look over things.” And so he began to explain. Over the course of an hour, he revealed how dire the situation was, and how as of now, they were all in the sight of these creatures that exist between the worlds.
Edna’s eyes narrowed as she pondered over Hammer Strike’s words and folded her hind legs as she leaned back in her chair. “Yes, I see what you mean. The likelihood of convincing the council of this danger, however, is zero. We will have to plan around this, and the inevitability of what that means.”
“I do not care about the council,” Hammer Strike replied flatly. “Our objective is to move our time scale up as much as possible. We need to leave as soon as we can.”
“I see. That will be a challenge for Terra and Tempus to accomplish quickly enough, but one that they should be able to overcome with relative ease. As for myself, I will have my own arrangements for departing the island. I have already begun preparations for a tour of the facilities we have in the far north of a distant continent. According to the files, it is meant to be one of the largest magical foci to ever exist, capable of harnessing the latent magic that your tribes produce but cannot fully harness. An intriguing apparatus, I must admit,” she said as she drew up a holographic projection of a familiar snowflake embedded in the frozen tundra. “The spell circuitry alone took nearly a year to construct, and our weather mages were hard pressed to keep back the storm. It is a simple design, but it does bear a certain charm, I suppose.”
“Far north, using crystal-like structures?”
“With a central control tower fit to house a small army, and housing for … testing the experimental power source. Or at least, it will by the time construction is complete.” She threw a projection of the blueprints into the air over the table between them.
As Hammer Strike scanned over the blueprint, he noted that it looked very familiar. In front of him was the designs for the Crystal Empire, albeit a finished variant. He frowned as he looked it over, keeping note of certain elements for the future.
“Your tribespeople will receive a minimal amount of freedom and an increase in the quality of their lives, given the necessity of the bond that is intended, so you need not fear the level of abuse you endured. And their development will not be inhibited as your other tribes are.”
“Inhibited?”
E shrugged. “Curbed, reduced, retarded, whatever you wish to call it. You are aware of how you were treated when you arrived. The empire wishes to keep its test subjects docile and compliant. I do not support the practice, but what is a mare to do when she is one of the few?”
“This explains a few things.” Hammer Strike frowned. “Technology level stalled for some time.”
“It is a regrettable effect of a desire to maintain power.” She sighed. “Time will set things right eventually.”
Hammer Strike frowned as he thought things over. “It won’t be that simple. I can say that with certainty.”
“And why is that, darling? If you are going to destroy the machine responsible, then you destroy it. If you are going to deactivate it, the same applies.”
“If I were to do that, it would cause a potential influx of invention, which would most certainly lead to conflict.” His frown deepened. “I’ll figure something out when the time comes.”
“Whatever you say, darling. Did you want the instruction manual for it?”
“Not at this moment, but perhaps, yes.”
“I’ll keep a copy on hoof, then. In the meantime, how about I show you some of my more recent designs? There are so few Ponies who appreciate my work these days.”
“Sweet Celestia, how can a filly that adorable grow into one of Equestria’s strongest protectors?” Rarity asked as she gushed over the playful scene between the fillies and Hammer Strike.
“Well, given the one who’s helping to raise them right now….” Vital noted.
“Anyone else starting to feel a vague sense of foreboding?” Grif asked.
“You mean over the fact that the island was ravaged by something and Hammer Strike is still there?” Pensword asked. “Because if so, then yes.”
“Well, they were all kind of jerks. But if anything bad does happen to them, I’ll feel sorry for their foals,” Vital noted.
“Only three escaped Sodom,” Grif noted.
“Is that prophecy or suspicion?” Vital asked.
“Suspicion,” Grif admitted. “I certainly haven’t heard of any additional Alicorns, and I have ears larger than most.”
“Pardon my ignorance, but what is this Sodom you mentioned?” Rarity inquired.
“An ancient city destroyed by a calamity back on Earth. It’s said that it was destroyed by the God of that world, due to intense wickedness, along with its sister city, Gomorrah,” Vital said.
“And you suspect a similar destruction is coming?” she asked Grif.
“I do.” Grif nodded. “Celestia and Luna have very vague memories about their parents from the little they’ve mentioned about them, whereas Hammer Strike was supposedly with them for most of their formative years. The only other person I recognized so far was Teller.”
“And just when he was happy again.” She sighed. “Must it always be this way?”
“I thought you knew him better,” Grif said. “He’s not happy.”
“He looked that way when he was playing with the girls,” Vital noted.
“He’s content,” The Doctor spoke up. “He’s spent years being tortured by the people just outside his door, and he can do nothing about it. Currently, he is safe amongst those who do not wish him harm, but he has no vent for the rage and vengeance he feels. He’s not happy.”
“Then I’ll have to make him happy again,” Rarity said as she peered intently at the screen again. “I’ll do whatever is in my power to make it possible.”
“We still have a way to go, Rarity. Let’s see what happens before you decide what you need to do,” Grif said.
“I’ll still make plans, if that’s all right by you,” Rarity said cooly. In an instant, that coldness melted into vulnerability as she said, “He always did.”
“He also kept an eye on the facts. This will be thousands of years away, likely, by the time we see him again. The now, not the then, Rarity,” Grif said.
“All the more reason for me to plan something in the meanwhile. I’m not saying I won’t take your advice, Grif, but I’m tired of sitting here and doing nothing. I need to sew or spar or something.”
“Then come with me and let’s spar,” Grif said, getting up. “Lets work off some energy.”
“I’ll referee!” both Pensword and Vital Spark called simultaneously.
“Jynx! You owe me a soda,” Vital called.
“Really? You’re pulling that again, after all this time?”
Vital shrugged. “I felt nostalgic.”
The Doctor groaned and shook his head as the group left. “I’m surrounded by children.” A knife whizzed just under his chin, clipping a few strands of fur. He gulped. “I wasn’t referring to you, Grif.”
“By the way, where’s Twilight?” Vital asked.
“Derpy said they needed to have some girl talk. I’m not sure what about, but I know better than to question Derpy when she puts her mind to something.”
“Fair enough. You sure you don’t want to come watch, Doctor? It’s quite the show, and I hear you’re quite the swordsman, yourself.”
“No, thanks. I still have work to do here.” He gestured to the controls.
“Need some alone time with her?”
“I think so, yes.”
Vital nodded. “Good enough for me. And Doctor, thank you.” With that said, he passed through the passage to follow his friends and left The Doctor to his devices.
Hammer Strike frowned as he read over his plans once more. Some five months ago, Luna had her sixth birthday, and while it was a time for celebration, it left Hammer Strike uncertain, knowing they had only a year at most to finalize things.
What also left him uncomfortable was the constant thaumic presence surrounding the city. It was now reaching a familiar territory. He sat within the living room next to Terra and Tempus. Celestia and Luna played a game on their tablets nearby.
“How close are we to being ready?” he asked.
“We have a boat hidden and the food and goods stored away, but we can’t leave without one last thing,” Tempus noted.
“What are we missing?”
“E was working on getting us a medical cube.”
Hammer Strike hummed. “Probably for the best, though I don’t fully see how effective it’ll be.”
“It‘s able to handle most wounds and conditions, save for the most alien to us. It also can help with rejuvenating the body, because…” Tempus looked at Hammer Strike. “You won’t live as long as we will.”
“My lifespan is drastically less, yeah.” Hammer Strike frowned. “I suppose I could stick around longer than anticipated. Growing old never really suited me.”
“That, and you’re part of our family now. We’d rather not lose you so soon,” Terra said.
“I need to get ahold of Bright and let him know what’s happening,” Tempus said. “Hammer Strike, can you get to E?”
“When would you like me to go?”
“Sooner the better.”
Hammer Strike moved the curtains out of the way to look at the darkening sky. “Tonight won’t work. They’re likely to ‘deal’ with me if they find me at this hour.”
“What if you took Cayde with you?” Terra asked.
“I’m sorry, but stealth isn’t my strong suit. It’d be a difficult night.” He frowned. “It’s best to do it in the morning. I’m sorry.”
“If we have time, then it’s nothing to be sorry about. How much do we have left?”
Terra was cut off as a powerful wave of energy swept over all of them, interrupting their conversation as Hammer Strike’s eyes shut off momentarily and he collapsed onto the ground. His breathing suddenly became shaky.
Tempus caught the Earth Pony in his magic. “Are you all right?”
After a few seconds, Hammer Strike’s eyes suddenly activated once more, and he quickly dropped out of Tempus’ kinetic field. His eyes were pinpricks as he scanned over everything in the house. “They’re watching,” he muttered quickly. “No, no, that isn’t watching.” He quickly moved to the window once more, only to watch as a blackened figure descended from the clouds above. He couldn’t get a scale on the thing before it suddenly landed near the opposite side of the island. The top of the creature stood just barely below the layer of clouds. “No. No, no, no, no.” Hammer Strike backed away from the window and bumped into the coffee table. The outsider’s mark burned ever so slightly as he tried to gather his wits.
“Hammer Strike, what is it?” Terra asked. A shadow passed over the house briefly, then was gone as screams began to filter over the air.
“We need to go, now!” Hammer Strike shouted. “We need to get out of here as soon as possible. Less than that, even!”
Tempus opened his tablet and sent a simple message to their friends. RUN! before scooping up Celestia and Luna in his magic while Terra grabbed their emergency supplies.
“Where’s that medical cube located?” Hammer Strike questioned.
“Just follow the location, darling,” E’s voice suddenly cut in as a marker appeared in his vision. “I hope you don’t mind, but I thought it would be prudent to … make use of your augments in this fashion.”
“Don’t care, whatever works.” Hammer Strike’s brows furrowed. “It’s in the research wing of the city… Both the cube and that thing.” He frowned. “Terra, Tempus, get Celestia and Luna to the boat. I’ll go get the cube and deal with any opposition. Andre’s shop is on the way, and I’ll probably meet him part way there.”
“We’ll meet you at the boat,” Tempus agreed. The girls were still wrapped in his magic as they ran.
“By the Divine, what did they do?” Hammer Strike shuddered as he looked to the creature once more. This time, he perceived a warping tentacle that coiled and shifted before coating itself in blades. He shook his head and pulled his gaze away. This was not the time to stare. He set off immediately for Andre’s workshop. He needed Ulkrusher at least.
As Hammer Strike ran, he noted several Alicorns clearly rushing to the creature, most likely in an attempt to combat it. Others, however, were running past him, giving him no attention as he jostled through the flood of hooves, only to spot a familiar figure standing tall above the rest of the crowd heading his way.
“Andre!”
“Hammer Strike! It’s chaos out here!” the old Alicorn shouted as he levitated a variety of weapons in his grip.
“You need to head to the meeting point. Terra, Tempus, Celestia, and Luna are already there. Did you happen to grab Ulkrusher on your way out, or should I work on that at this moment?”
“Here.” The hammer floated toward him. “I’ll work to stall for now. You do what you need to get done.”
“I’ve got to get some medical cube from the research district.” Hammer Strike looked toward the creature. “Keep things as stable as you can on this end.”
“I’ll buy you the time,” Andre said firmly.
Hammer Strike nodded as he took hold of Ulkrusher once more and placed it onto his back where it suddenly took hold. He took a quick breath, then turned in the direction of the research district and headed off, doing his best to keep out of sight.
He was heading right for the abomination.
Hammer Strike stood around the corner from the lab marked by E. Looking around, he noted that the creature was somewhere north-west of him, though the sight of it was mostly blocked by a large cathedral-like building. He frowned as he looked to the entrance of the building, noting a lack of guards, but there was still some activity within.
If there were guard units still within, he’d have to avoid them, rather than drain his energy, or worse, be noticed by said abomination. He quickly moved up to the doors, then entered the facility’s entrance hall. The reception desk had been cleared some time ago. Using the map provided by his eyes, he began his descent into the lab.
What the map didn’t account for, however, was that many of the tunnels had collapsed, most likely due to the creature’s stomping about above wearing down structural integrity. Looking over his map once again, he noted that there was another way, though it was through a more restricted sector of the facility.
“Great,” he muttered.
Back on the TARDIS, Rarity bit down on her hooves at the sight of the panic. The thing continued to remain impossible to define as it passed through the empire. It seemed whenever the camera passed over it, the screen was overcome with static. A few seconds later, it would return to normal as it zoomed on Hammer Strike again.
“So, that’s what happens when thaumaturgy goes too far.” Vital shuddered.
“I always figured he had a reason for the paranoia, but seeing it in action, it all makes a lot more sense now,” Grif said.
“Cthulu is real,” Pensword muttered in disbelief. “Cthulu is real.”
“More like the old ones are real,” Vital corrected. He sighed. “I hate to think what might happen to Terra, Tempus, and Andre, though. If that thing was involved….”
“All we can do is wait and see,” The Doctor said. “Either that or leave the room till the moment’s past.”
“Nopony’s leaving,” Derpy said seriously as she fixed The Doctor with a lopsided glare. “If we can’t help him in person, then we can still cheer him on.”
“I just hope they get out safely.” Rarity brushed a free hoof over the screen. “Be careful,” she whispered.
“We know he survives.” Grif shrugged, pointing a talon at the Doctor as he opened his mouth to say spoilers. The timelord stopped himself. “Let's just wait and see.”
Hammer Strike frowned as he stopped in his tracks, using the gift from the Outsider, his vision darkened and he watched as a few guards patrolled the halls nearby, one of which was heading his way. Looking to his side, he noted one of the labs nearby was open, giving him a spot to hide while the guard passed.
After the moment of reprieve had passed, he continued on his path, wondering what was so important down here that the guards weren’t allowed to leave the facility, despite the creature being just above their heads.
It wasn’t until he hit a cross section that he sighed. He now had a new issue, that issue being two guards stationed in the hallway he needed to traverse. They weren’t standard guards, from what he could see through the walls. Combat wouldn’t be a good idea, since if they set off the alarm, he’d have a whole building after him. At the moment, he also had a guard behind him on patrol that would probably pass through his area soon.
“Come on,” he muttered. “What would Grif do?”
“Look for the outs. If you don’t need to make a kill, try and find an alternate path,” Grif said. “If that doesn’t work, kill the patroller. He’s alone, and it’ll take longer to find him. Then you can figure out the next step,” Grif said.
“Patroller is behind me. Taking him out doesn’t help the stationary guards,” Hammer Strike muttered.
“Kill the stationaries and he’ll find the bodies before you can hide them. He’s moving. They aren't going to wonder where he is,” Grif noted. “It buys time.”
Hammer Strike frowned as he pulled out his magitech pistol and turned his attention behind himself. “Patroller, then stationaries should work fine,” he finished with a nod.
“All right, how are you doing that?” the Doctor demanded. “This is just getting ridiculous.”
“I don’t know.” Grif shrugged. “You’ll have to ask him when we see him.”
The Doctor grit his teeth as Derpy came forward and offered a consolation muffin.
Back on the island, Hammer Strike nodded as he shoved the corpse of the patrol Pony into one of the side rooms, underneath a desk. Then he entered the hall and waited for an opening. He got it when a rumble shook through the facility, causing the guard on his left to look behind. As soon as his head turned, Hammer Strike moved around the corner and fired on the one on the right before following with the left to ensure there wouldn’t be so much as a second of time given for them to register his presence.
He frowned as he followed his previous method, ensuring that he thaumically collected any blood that may or may not have escaped. As soon as the corpses were dealt with, he continued on his path toward the medical cube.
As he moved through the halls, he ran into a strange room. Screens covered the walls, showing countless faces and notes on genetic testing. One of the more prominent faces, however, was his own. Across the room were a series of tubes, untouched by the chaos happening above. He didn’t have time to figure any of this out, and he knew it.
He growled to himself before an idea sprung to his mind. His hoof glowed with thaumic energy as he quickly wrote down a message. In the future, Grif passed through this district, meaning he potentially came across this room.
He’d have to leave a trail for Grif to follow to ensure things played out correctly.
He grabbed what he could and shoved it aside, ensuring he marked it for Grif before heading out once more. He frowned as he passed by several sectors, until he started to register a familiar series of rooms. Though he went through a different entrance, this facility was connected to the containment facility that had held him for so many years. Opening one room revealed a familiar surgical machine. He scowled, marked a note for Grif, and carried on.
It wasn’t until he felt a sudden pull on his mind that he realized something was wrong. He felt a pair of consciousness become alert by his presence, despite the fact that he didn’t see anyone. He frowned as he followed the pull to a small chamber, where two chambers sat side by side. A familiar black substance churned within them. It was the stuff that nearly killed him before he snapped their hive mind link.
The two ‘creatures’ approached the observation barrier as he drew clower. They weren’t going to hurt him anymore; he was positive of that. But they could prove useful to him.
After a moment of debate, he opened the capsule chutes attached to the rooms, and the two creatures proceeded to exit and stand next to him. The question was how to transport them without being noticed. He couldn’t have them follow behind. It would be too visible. As he pondered the possibilities, the two creatures leaped into action and attached themselves to Hammer Strike’s coat. There was no ill intent from the link, so he watched, instead as they seemingly disappeared, leaving just his coat behind. However, as he observed his coat once again he noted new additions to it, including his insignia on his shoulders.
“Okay, you can shapeshift with items?” he muttered in confusion before shaking his head. He didn’t have time to figure this all out right now.
He picked up the quest again and eventually passed through containment. He tried his best to remain out of sight. Most of the beings in the cells were unconscious, probably knocked out, from what he gathered. Eventually, he came across his old cell. He frowned before leaving a note behind once again and continuing on his way.
Eventually, he found the sector he was looking for. The familiar scent, or lack thereof, of the medical wing was welcome, and it didn’t take long for him to find the special containment section. In one such container, a small black cube hovered with a series of thin blue crystals next to it. A quick scan revealed them to be a power source of some kind. He shrugged to himself before collecting the cube and crystals, then placing them within his coat.
No sooner had he done so then the ground shook beneath him, resulting in him losing his footing. He groaned as he picked himself up. The lights above flickered before they settled once more.
Hammer Strike didn’t have much time, and he knew it. He backtracked as quickly as he could, only to note more collapsed tunnels. He frowned as he looked at his map again, noting a few potential hallways he could take.
It was at this point that he realized there was a significant lack of guards compared to earlier, which meant even they were pulled from the building. He growled to himself as he galloped toward the entrance, only to encounter more rubble. There weren’t any additional ways to go, leading him to try and figure out how he was going to get out. As he debated, a loud crash sounded from behind him. A section of the wall had blown inward. The fresh corpse of an Alicorn laid underneath some of the rubble. It was clear they were dead. As for the how…
A loud thump echoed throughout the hallway from the new hole, leading Hammer Strike to peek around the corner. It wasn’t far off at this point. Give or take a mile. Across from him was the cathedral he had seen earlier with a similar hole in the wall across the way.
He frowned to himself as he looked between the hole and the abomination. He needed to get out of there, but not when the creature was looking, which meant he’d need to at least get to the cathedral and use it to block line of sight. But he needed an opening. While he was strong, speed was definitely not his strong suit. Using the vision Outsider had gifted him again, he looked to the creature and crouched to prepare for the mad dash.
The Outsider’s mark glowed beneath his coat and his awareness seemed to separate from his body as he watched his form turn to ash that blew away in an unseen wind. He watched the ashes dance silently and undetected before sliding through the hole in the cathedral wall, only to clump together and reform the shape of his body. A moment later, he found himself back in his own head staring back at the hole that had been broken through the research facility’s walls.
“The hell was that?” he questioned quietly as he looked to his hooves, then the Outsider’s mark. Ever the warrior, he scanned his surroundings for danger, even as he steadied his breath to calm himself. The room was dark, thanks to the mass of the creature that hovered outside, but a few lights and fires provided enough illumination to see by. Great stained glass windows decorated the walls of the structure, each portraying various events in the history of the Alicorn Empire. The ceiling was a vaulted structure, and shadows danced like ravenous beasts in a frenzy as the torches and candles flickered wildly. Twelve plinths lined the walls, six on either side, each holding an identically sized stone. The ones on the left bore all shimmering gold gems that refracted the light and glowed from within as they stood on their carved bases. The stones on the right were nigh-identical, but they were a deep mournful blue. These plinths inevitably drew the eye to the three altars and the imposing statues that lay behind them, but there was no time to take it in.
However, what did merit his attention was a small object sitting on Faust’s altar. A single twenty-sided die of purple and green coloration pulsed and glowed in place. He frowned as he walked up to it. The Alicorns had found one of the most valuable and powerful magical items to exist in the world and left it within the cathedral. That was less than wise.
Hammer Strike was roused from his disapproval by an earth-shaking roar that shattered the windows and left the walls less stable than before. That made up his mind. He quickly took hold of the die and rolled it. He’d need whatever edge he could get in the times to come.
The hall clattered with the sound of the die’s bounding. Finally, it settled on the number nineteen. After a brief flash of light he blinked and looked to the object that now sat in the die’s place. A solid gold apple waited for its summoner.
Hammer Strike sighed as he looked over it. The item didn’t seem to generate any significant power, but perhaps it was something else? He frowned, then took an experimental bite. As his teeth sunk into the fruit, he felt a surge of energy wash over his body, and his vision flickered out.
After some time, he suddenly came to on the floor. All his augments were sending reports to his head at once. Something was wrong with them. Their readings were suddenly incorrect. After a brief time taken to test his body, they finalized their new report, dictating that a change had arisen in his physiology.
He felt sore as he stood upright and read through the report. His muscle density had increased, but it felt like it was more than that. He groaned as he tried stretching to relieve his body in some way. It was at this point that he realized the gemstones within the pedestals were now, in fact, surrounding him, hovering off the ground in a circular pattern around him.
He reached out a hoof to poke one, only to feel a substantial amount of energy come from it before he even made contact. He frowned and determined that he would figure them out later. A loud crash sent reverberations through the whole cathedral. The abomination was near.
He raced out the main entrance. Once he was certain of his position, he set off in the direction of their meeting point. Everyone was bound to be there already, so he needed to get to the boat as quickly as he could. It was only a matter of time before that thing would move to a different district.
He rounded several corners and streets, trying his best to stay out of sight, only to nearly run into an Alicorn soldier of some kind. They were wearing some sort of armor that covered most of their body in gray plating with a black combat suit underneath. He realized that the soldier in front of him was also decently big compared to most Alicorns that he’d run into by this point.
The soldier turned its attention to Hammer Strike only to let out a low growl. “Of course, prey like you are always so prone to looting.” His horn flared with crimson light. A sword levitated off his back and lit with the same aura. As he moved forward to swing, Hammer Strike attempted to match the blow, only to find himself overswinging. Ulkrusher felt off in his hooves, lighter, and … disconnected? He managed to avoid the blade, but took a hard blow to his side as another soldier joined his fellow.
Hammer Strike swung again and again. He overswung, causing the hammer to crash into a nearby wall and turn it to powder. There was some contentious laughter from the guard as he felt a kick from behind. On his next attempt, the hammer went flying as the flat of the blade impacted his hooves. Ulkrusher didn’t return to his hoof, and Hammer Strike found himself attempting to ward off his attackers with his bare hooves. Fortunately, Sleipnir’s horeshoes acted to protect their master, and assisted in deflecting the more lethal blows. However, one Alicorn caught the Earth Pony off guard with a blast of pure force to the side, and hammerstrike was sent through a nearby wall.
Hammer Strike groaned as he shifted rubble off himself. A warm substance ran slowly down his head until it reached his nose. He was bleeding, most likely from the impact and the partial building collapse. He growled and reached out a hoof to call Ulkrusher again. Again, it didn’t come.
“Damn it!” he roared. “Why won’t you listen, and come to me?” He reached out a hoof once more, only to graze one of the floating gemstones as they rotated around him.
His vision suddenly shifted to white. The augments hadn’t shut down. Instead, they appeared to be adjusting to a large amount of light. His body felt strangely numb as the light consumed him. And then everything suddenly came back as he gasped and tried to get oxygen to his body. His breathing was heavy. Something was different. He groaned as he planted his hooves on the ground and tried pushing himself upright.
Rubble shifted off him as he moved, and once he reached full height, he kept going. As he stood upright, he stumbled and righted himself. His coat didn’t fit him fully anymore. The sleeves looked as though they had pulled closer, and as the rubble shifted off his back, he felt a part of his back twitch. He looked to his hooves once again before carefully reaching up to his forehead.
He met resistance long before he touched the skin.
Resistance meant one thing, one absolutely absurdly impossible thing. And yet it was.
He had a horn.
The stones were gone now, but Hammer Strike could still feel their power with him. A constant stream of energy filled his body as he registered everything that happened. Whatever those stones were, they had somehow ascended him. He recognized the Alicorn form he’d taken in that brief moment on Wukong’s island, giving him some stability in his control.
He growled as he looked to the hole in the wall that he came from. Those Alicorns were just outside, waiting for him. He could see them.
Heat ran down his neck. Not the watery kind, like blood, but more thick and sludgy. His mane, tail, and eyes glowed a bright orange as he walked back through the hole at an almost sedate pace. The ground beneath him heated and scorched with every step. Buildings began to warp as their materials began to burn or melt. A large bubble of molten metal splattered out near him. He didn’t feel it.
The Alicorn with the sword growled and charged Hammer Strike again. Hammer Strike raised his hoof and caught the blade with little effort. Almost immediately, the metal turned a cherry red and melted to slag, much to the shock of its user. Hammer Strike didn’t even stop as he stepped through the slag. He lifted a single hoof and placed it on the Alicorn’s back.
There was a piercing scream as the scent of cooked meat filled the air. The Alicorn’s armor melted. Cloth disintegrated. Fur singed, and flesh cooked until it slid off the body, originating from the spot of contact and moving outwards. The others watched in horror as their comrade fell apart screaming from invisible flames.
One of the others attempted to run, only to find the stone beneath softening. With each step, the ground gave way, deeper, deeper, swallowing his hooves as Hammer Strike grabbed the sword of one of the others in his own bright orange magic. The great sword immediately matched the arcane glow as it took on the heat as well as the power. With little more than a flick of his head, the great sword swung. It met no resistance as the heated blade cut armor, cloth, fur, flesh, muscle, sinew, and bone without stopping. It bisected the Alicorn who’d owned it from breast to tail.
Turning to the next victim, he impaled the arrogant warrior with the sword before he could react. Then his horn pulsed as an orange glow could be seen from inside the Alicorn, who began to scream. The screams got louder as Hammer Strike’s horn pulsed again, and again, and again. It pulsed almost like a strobe until both sword and alicorn exploded in a flash of light with a sickening pop. Cooked flesh and molten metal rained around Hammer Strike as he turned to the immobilized Alicorn struggling to get away.
He stopped and simply stared at him.
The guard sighed for a moment, thinking he may be left alive to tell the tale. Then he felt it, the heat around his hooves. He looked down just in time to see the stone beginning to redden as pain exploded in his hooves. The stone quickly turned molten as the Alicorn began to sink again, this time faster than before. This wasn’t mud. This was a puddle of fire. His world became nothing but pain and searing heat that spread higher, higher, and higher still. It would be a slow and painful death filled with the cries of the damned. And the whole while, Hammer Strike just stood watching.
Watching, and grinning.
“‘And so I have become death, the destroyer of worlds,’” Grif quoted as the scene returned to static.
“And so the oppressed is given room to vent at last. He really is scary when he gets that mad, isn’t he?” Vital asked.
“You try being tortured for seven years and see how you feel about it,” Pensword said.
Vital shrugged. “Fair enough.”
“It’s a few hundred times what he went through at the red fort,” Grif noted. “It’s to be expected.”
Rarity was quiet as she watched the events unfold. Her husband had just ascended into an Alicorn and destroyed every opponent in a cruel and brutal manner. Processing that was going to take time.
“I know it’s not something you’re used to, but this is what war and a warrior’s life means,” Grif said. “Kind to your allies, good to your family, but you only give an enemy as much respect as he would give you.”
“It’s no wonder Celestia abhors war,” Rarity said softly. “It really is such an ugly thing, isn’t it?”
“And it’s necessary,” Grif said.
“Just don’t ask me to dress it,” Rarity retorted as she returned her gaze to the monitor again.
Twilight’s pupils had shrunk to tiny pinpricks as her teeth grated and her ear twitched. She had just witnessed the full destructive might of magic combined with thaumaturgy, along with the consequential beings that were drawn to that power. To summarize, Twilight.exe officially stopped working, and the task manager was not available for access. It would take time for that system to reboot, time that she had plenty of.
Hammer Strike frowned as he shifted Ulkrusher on his back. He was deep within the residential district, nearing their meeting point at the coast. His movement was significantly faster, now that he had longer legs. And occasionally, he would try to give a small flap of his wings to keep himself moving.
Eventually, he crossed the threshold of buildings and moved to the coast, where he found a small alcove with familiar figures within. What he expected did come to light, however, as most of them didn’t seem to recognize him at first. Fortunately, it didn’t take long for them to realize the truth.
“Hammer Strike?” Terra balked at the sight of the newly ascended Alicorn.
“Affirmative,” Hammer Strike replied with a nod. “To put it simply, some artifacts in the Cathedral seemed to have … bound to me in a way. They visually looked like gemstones.”
“Artifacts in the…? You’re telling me you bound yourself to the most powerful godly relics on the island? How are you still even alive?”
Hammer Strike shrugged in return. “I didn’t mean to, but they just … did it.”
“As interesting as this is, we are still in a city under attack,” Tempus noted.
“The creature is in the research district. Judging by its movement pattern, it’ll be heading over to the military structures on the opposite side of the island first.” Hammer Strike shook his head. “Personally, I’d suggest we wait a moment, let it get a little more distance before determining who sets off from here, followed by the others.”
“Regardless, we’ll have to move quickly,” Terra said. “Is everyone ready?”
“Mother, where’s your boat?” Celestia asked.
“Your father and I are going a different way. Hammer Strike will be better equipped to take care of you and your sister where you’re going.”
“Are all the supplies set in each of the boats?” Hammer Strike asked.
“Yes. Does everyone have his or her tablet?”
Hammer Strike reached into his coat and pulled out his as everyone revealed theirs. “We’re clear on that. All right. If there are no issues, I will set off with Celestia and Luna. Terra and Andre, you’ll be heading off in the last ship while Tempus, Teller, and E will take the next one. We got everything covered?”
Andre levitated a small vial to Hammer Strike. Inside of it lay a small crystalline acorn. “You should take this for safe keeping.”
“What is it?” Hammer Strike questioned as he took hold of the vial.
“Harmony.”
Hammer Strike raised a brow before looking to the crystal acorn once again. After a moment, he nodded and placed it in his coat pocket. “That should be everything. Keep your tablets active.”
They all nodded to him. Tempus gave his daughters one last hug, and Terra kissed them both goodbye.
“We’ll see you both again soon. Be brave for me, okay?” Terra asked.
Luna sniffled and nodded while Celestia held her close.
Hammer Strike nodded as he started to get the boat to the water. The sea appeared to be calm at the moment, but they had a long journey ahead of them. He frowned as he ensured everything was secure one last time before getting Celestia and Luna aboard. After one last confirmation from everyone, he started the motor and set off.
Terra and Tempus allowed themselves one final wave to send them off, then turned quickly to join the others and prepare their own crafts for escape. The hour of destruction was at hand.
Extended Holiday Chapter 166: Pilgrim’s Progress: The Long Way Home
Hammer Strike yawned as he checked over their supplies once again. They had been at sea for nearly a week, and it gave him plenty of time to inventory everything that had been added at the last minute.
Andre and E had been thoughtful enough to include a tool set for him to use, giving him more options for what to work with when they made it to land. They had also been supplied with a good supply of nonperishable food, but it was bound to run out in another week. He also had a few additional tablets placed within. Some of them were probably for Celestia and Luna, while others would likely be more technical in nature. Beyond that, he was also supplied with compressed bundles of fabric and a sewing kit.
He frowned as he looked at his coat once more. Now, at least the sleeves fit him fully, but it was fake in a way. The creatures he had found were binding themselves to his clothes currently, and could replicate objects. They were responsible for lengthening the coat to fit his new figure.
He hadn’t tampered with magic that much, primarily due to there being nothing that he was willing to risk nearby. His wings were also out of the question, as he had no grounds to practice with. Overall, he wasn’t very comfortable as an Alicorn, and he hoped this transformation was only due to the artifacts that currently resided within his being, and not permanent.
He could feel them and, if he focused on them, could separate them from himself, but the stones returned moments later. He would need something to take it away from him if he were to get rid of them.
While the power was tempting to keep, it wasn’t something he was comfortable with. It was almost addicting in a way. He could feel his control over things broaden, and he was certain it wasn’t just the Alicorn form doing it. Whatever those artifacts were, they weren’t something he wanted to keep.
But for now, he’d have to settle with having them.
He blinked as he looked to the horizon. The sun was slowly ascending into the sky, giving light to his surroundings. With it came the sight of something he had long been waiting for, dry land. He’d have to figure out where he was by talking to the locals, but it was a risk he was willing to take.
He looked down to Celestia and Luna, who were both bundled together in a blanket, sleeping soundly as they were rocked by the waves. He gave a faint chuckle as he reached over and nudged both of them. “Come on, it’s time to wake up, you two.”
Celestia groaned and rubbed her eyes, then yawned as she raised her head. Her neck had begun to lengthen somewhat, and her limbs were more gangly than the young filly he had helped to raise. “Is it over?” she asked.
“Almost. You can see some of the mainland over there.” Hammer Strike directed her attention forward.
“To think the island was that far away from any sort of landfall,” Celestia marveled.
Luna stretched her legs and shook off the blanket, then squinted at the bright morning sun as it reflected over the water.
“Morning, sleepyhead,” Celestia teased as she nuzzled the filly’s mane.
Luna yawned. “Morning,” she said softly.
“We finally made it, sister. We won’t have to sleep on the boat again.”
Luna looked at her sister and nodded quietly.
“How long do you think until we reach the mainland?” Celestia asked.
“Give or take an hour,” Hammer Strike estimated. “I’ll keep us moving along.”
Hammer Strike frowned as he looked to the mainland once more. While Celestia was managing, Luna seemed to still be in the shock phase of everything. That could prove troublesome, but it was just the way things would have to be for now. True to his word, they reached the mainland within the hour. It was a cooler temperature, but the climate was definitely dry, leading him to at least get a general idea of potential zones they could have arrived in. As they neared the coast, he jumped over the side of the boat to land in knee-high water, then pulled the boat ashore.
As soon as he was certain the boat was a good distance away from the water, he assisted Celestia and Luna off. He scanned their surroundings once more and determined that they were relatively clear of anything for a decent distance. “You two can explore a little, but don’t stray too far. I’ve got to take this boat apart.”
“Lulu, how about you come with me? We can look for shells or seaglass, if you’d like,” Celestia offered. The mare nodded mutely and followed her sister’s promptings as they settled onto the land and wobbled over the grass toward the shore. It wouldn’t take long for them to get their land legs again, or so Celestia hoped.
As soon as the two were a respectable distance away, Hammer Strike frowned and turned. “Death, can you hear me?”
“Yes. What I'm wondering is how you know me and why I'm here,” a familiar voice spoke up as the cloaked figure Hammer Strike had come to know and defy appeared before him.
“Ah, it’s you, and not the Alicorn mare.” Hammer Strike hummed.
“Look, I don't know how you got me here. Clearly, you’re not a necromancer, but I’ve kind of got a big job. What's this about?”
“There is something I’d like to request of you.” Hammer Strike pulled one of the small blue gems from himself. He didn’t know which one he pulled, but this one felt as though it was more active around Death.
“That's a powerful magical artifact,” Death noted warily. He almost seemed to cringe from it.
“And I want you to take it,” Hammer Strike replied. “I want you to take this and put it somewhere no normal mortal can reach. I trust you more than anyone else at this point in time.”
Death gaped for moment, then nodded. “I can do that.” He reached a bony hoof.
As Hammer strike handed the gem over, another bright flash of light filled Hammer his sight. When it cleared, he was relieved to find he was normal again. Well, mostly normal. For some reason, he could feel a difference in his teeth, and when he checked, he realized that he had canines. But as for the rest, relatively speaking, he was a typical Earth Pony stallion again. Well, typical for Hammer Strike.
“That’s better.”
“I don’t want to know what's going on right now, but I really need to get going,” Death told him.
“Come now, I’m sure it’s less work than the island.” Hammer Strike frowned as dark memories clawed at the walls of his mind. “Have fun.”
And with that, Death vanished.
Hammer Strike sighed before checking for Celestia and Luna. They were a decent distance away on the coast, but still well within range. After confirming their safety, he moved to the opposite side of the boat to keep the two within sight and began unloading and dismantling.
The fire crackled and snapped as the trio sat around the light. The air was more moderate, thanks to being near the ocean, but a distinctly recognizable chill still hovered in the air. The firewood had been a simple matter to harvest and burn with Hammer Strike’s immense strength. The dried fruit they shared between them offered the sustenance their bodies required, though both mares couldn’t help but stare through the flames to the other side. It was all too obvious who was on their minds.
“How long, do you think, before we get any word?” Celestia finally asked. “From Mother and Father, I mean.”
“It depends on how long it takes them to reach the shore,” Hammer Strike replied. “At longest, it would be two weeks. I’ve always got my tablet on me, so as soon as they land, we’ll know.”
Celestia brushed her hoof through Luna’s mane as their breath steamed the air. “And what will we do in the meantime?”
“I’ll have to figure that part out. I’ll be looking into the locals to see what race we’re near. Until then, I suppose I’ll set up a temporary shelter and get both of your stuff out of the crates, so you have something to have fun with until then.”
“That … would be nice,” Celestia said as she looked down at her sister. The mare was resting her head on the ground between her hooves.
Hammer Strike nodded. “I’m sorry I can’t do much else.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “But I’ll see to at least keeping you bo—”
A loud crash of waves cut off Hammer Strike, followed by the sounds of coughing and groaning. He stood to attention, drawing Ulkrusher off his back before moving to the front of their camp. “Stay here, and keep an eye out.”
“All right. Be careful,” Celestia warned as she pulled Luna close and wrapped her wings around the foal.
Hammer Strike frowned as he moved toward the coast. Even with it being night, he was able to see relatively well. However, he soon was able to lower his weapon. There, on the sandy stretch, coughing and groaning at the world, was a particular figure mostly made of metal.
“Cayde?”
Cayde’s left eye flickered, and sparks flew from his jaw as he looked to Hammer Strike. “How’s my hair?”
“Better than the rest of you.” Hammer Strike rolled his eyes as he moved to help the automaton up.
“Good to see you and the kids made it.” Cayde groaned as he attempted to stabilize. “Quite a ride, huh?”
“The sea was quite forgiving for us,” Hammer Strike replied. “Come on. I’ve got the tools necessary to fix you up.”
“That's good to hear.” Cayde chuckled. “I feel terrible.”
“You look the part, too.” Hammer Strike smirked as he brought Cayde to the camp. “Girls, we’ve got some company in the way of Cayde.”
“Hey, kiddos.” The robot waved.
“What happened to you? You look like you had your servos handed to you on a silver platter,” Celestia said. “Is Grandfather all right?”
Cayde said nothing at Celestia’s question. He just looked away.
“Cayde, is he all right?” Celestia pushed.
“I … I don’t know,” Cayde finally said.
“Were you with him when you left the island?”
“No.”
Hammer Strike sat him down near the fire as he checked their containers for the tools.
“Were you with anyone?” Celestia continued.
“Zavala and Ikora.”
“Did Grandfather want you all to take a separate boat, then?”
“Listen, kid. I’m in a lot of pain right now. Can we talk about this later?”
Hammer Strike gave Cayde a glance before turning to Celestia. “He’ll talk later tomorrow. Now, I think the two of you could use some sleep before it gets too late.”
Celestia sighed. “We’ll try. I can’t guarantee success, though.” She rose from her seat and wrapped Luna in her magic. “Come on, Lulu.”
Hammer Strike waited until the two were within their makeshift tent before turning to Cayde. He placed the tools next to the bot and began assessing the damage. “Low voice. If necessary, take my tablet and type it out. What happened after I left?” He spoke softly as he moved Cayde’s head toward the fire.
Cayde uttered as softly as he could. “Boats got attacked. We tried to hold it, but in the end, the old man threw us into the boat. Next thing I know, there was an explosion, and then I’m in the water.”
“Do you know who made it to the boats?” Hammer Strike asked as he started to work on Cayde’s circuits.
“No. I didn't have time to check”
Hammer Strike frowned. “Any markers on Ikora and Zavala that you can note?”
“If they had them, they were probably damaged. I’ve tried a few things, but I haven’t been able to get any signals or life signs.”
“All right.” Hammer Strike sighed. “Try not to move too much now. I’ve got to replace a few components around your jaw, and I’m sure you’d prefer me not to mess up.”
The forest was quiet in the dim light of the early morning. The sound of flowing water drew Hammer Strike on as he continued his search through brush, forest, and a carpet of colored leaves and tall dry grass. At this point in time, it was more likely to find a settlement along a freshwater source.
He stopped when he was assaulted by a wall of sound. A deep vibrating tone buzzed through the air with the familiar thrum that could only belong to one instrument. And he knew of only one creature on Equis that played it.
“Roo territory.” Hammer Strike hummed as he followed the noise. “South, separate section, possibly along the western coast.” He sighed. “Oh, that’s a long distance to travel.”
As he continued on, he found himself among rounded reed huts. Soon he found the Roos in the village. Many had designs painted onto their fur and carried long spears. A few females carried joeys in their pouches. As he moved on, he noted more than one giving him a curious look.
Thankfully, the translation module would cover him in speaking with them. “Hello?”
“Hello?” one of the Roos answered with equal uncertainty.
“I come to trade, if possible.” Hammer Strike shrugged.
“What exactly are you?”
Hammer Strike raised a brow. “Well, to put it in a general way, I am a pony. Though others like me have horns or wings.”
The large boomer nodded. “And what exactly do you have to trade?”
Hammer Strike opened his makeshift pack and pulled out an assortment of pelts and meats. “Mostly pelts and meat.”
“We have some things like that. We will gather them. You’ll wait here?”
Hammer Strike nodded.
About an hour later, half a dozen Roos approached carrying baskets full of unprocessed ore, opals, and several rocks with strange coloring. Hammer Strike sorted through what he was looking for and offered up what he felt was an acceptable trade to him. The Roos only thought about it for a few moments before they agreed.
“I may return with more, should things be prosperous,” Hammer Strike commented with a nod.
“We will keep an eye out for you.” The boomer nodded.
Hammer Strike turned from them and headed back towards his camp, taking the long way in case he was followed. As soon as he drew near camp, he called out, “Cayde, do a sweep of the area to make sure I wasn’t followed.”
Cayde nodded and tightened his cloak as he vanished.
Hammer Strike sighed as he made his way to the campfire and began sorting through the metals. It was a mixture of coal, copper, silver, gold, iron, and, surprisingly, titanium. He hummed aloud as he sorted through everything, including some opals. He didn’t get as much iron as he would have liked, but the coal and even the addition of titanium made up for it.
“Foraging, Hammer Strike?” Celestia asked as another portion of dried fruit was levitated toward the Earth Pony.
“Material gathering for now,” Hammer Strike replied as he glanced to Celestia. “I’ll have to refine it sometime later, but for now, I can do some rough work on it.”
“What did you have in mind?”
“You remember that sleigh-like thing I was making?” Hammer Strike questioned as he pointed off to his right. “Well, with this, I plan on making some nails and joints and such to refine it, and eventually make it into a cart for us to travel on land.”
“And what do you plan to use for wheels?”
“Wood for now, with some reinforcements.”
“You’re a carpenter as well?”
Hammer Strike smiled. “I used to work on almost everything.”
“You mean before you became a part of our family?”
“Correct.” He nodded. After a moment, he glanced around the camp. “Where’s your sister, by the way?”
“Still sleeping. There doesn’t appear to be anything wrong with her. I think she just misses Mother and Father.” She frowned. “We both do.”
Hammer Strike frowned. “I know. We’ve just got to wait for them to contact us. We’ve got another week before we have to get moving.”
“I just hope we can get something out of her soon,” Celestia said. “I’ve never known her to be this quiet.”
“Hopefully.” Hammer Strike nodded as he finished sorting the metal. “When Cayde comes back, we’ll try to do something, all right?”
Celestia nodded. “Thank you.”
Hammer Strike frowned as he looked to his tablet once again. It had been over three weeks since they’d landed. They were supposed to head out over a week ago, but he had given it an extra week in hopes that something would come up.
But nothing did. Not a single signal had popped up on his tablet since they landed. He had even confirmed it to still be working using Cayde’s relay.
While he didn’t want to admit it, they probably didn’t make it. He frowned to himself as he finally placed the tablet back in his coat and moved toward the cart again. Over the last week, he had moved everything into it. The only thing he was missing was a cover for the top. For now, it was just covered by a makeshift fabric to not draw too much attention to it, rather than using the machine fabricated materials he had.
“Cayde, could you get the girls? It’s time to move out.”
“On it.” A few minutes later, he returned with the fillies in tow.
“All right, girls. We’ve got to start our trip. There isn’t much more we can do out here.”
“But Mother and Father—” Celestia started.
“We’ve got our tablets, and they’ve got theirs. When it comes online, we’ll be able to find them, but we can’t just stay here.”
“They’re gone, aren't they?” Luna said in a soft voice, almost a whisper.
Hammer Strike looked to the two and sighed. “... Most likely. I won’t lie to you two or give you false hope. I’m sorry.”
Hammer Strike probably expected Luna to hug her sister, so when she walked over to him and wrapped her legs around his foreleg and whimpered softly, he was a bit surprised. He picked her up and hugged her before bringing Celestia in as well. “I’m sorry, girls. I wish I could do more.”
“You brought us this far. That’s more than we could ever have asked in the first place,” Celestia said, even as she struggled to keep a straight face.
“I’ll do the best I can. I promise this to you.” Hammer Strike sighed. “I’ll do everything to make sure things go better.”
“And how are you supposed to assure that?” Celestia asked. “I don’t mean disrespect. It’s just … we can’t exactly control what comes next.”
“If need be, I’ll use every force I have at my disposal to ensure it,” Hammer Strike reassured. “If it means using the power I refrained from showing the other Alicorns, I’ll use it freely.”
Celestia’s eyes darted with uncertainty as she looked first to her sister, then to Hammer Strike. “Does … that mean you’ll stay with us?”
“For as long as I can,” Hammer Strike assured her with a smile. “For thousands of years, if necessary.”
The dampness of fresh tears watered his shoulder as Celestia leaned her neck against his. “Thank you,” she whispered.
Hammer Strike simply hugged the two for as long as he could before finally setting them down in the cart. “It’ll take time, but I know where we can go. We’ll have a nice big home.”
“Where?”
“The land where I come from.” He smiled gently.
“Won’t we cause problems?”
“Never. I’ll make sure of it myself.” Hammer Strike gestured for Cayde to get on the cart as he moved toward the harness.
Cayde got on without a word.
Hammer Strike nodded as he strapped himself in and started pulling the cart. “We may come across some Roos. They’ve been quite friendly so far.”
“They’re among the more underdeveloped races when it comes to culture, aren’t they?” Celestia asked.
“For now, but I’m sure it will change over time,” Hammer Strike replied.
“Then, … I suppose we should get started,” Celestia said, not really knowing what else to say to that.
Hammer Strike hummed to himself as he continued to pull the cart through the lush lands around him. There was a basic dirt road that traversed the land, giving him a slightly easier time moving the cart. From what he could recall, he was currently positioned around the south eastern part of the world map that he was used to, meaning he would have quite some distance to travel.
Whenever they would stop to camp for the night he would head out some distance and practice using his weapons. His newfound strength often threw him off when using most of his weapons, especially Ulkrusher. Ever since the island, the weapon just hadn’t felt right to him anymore. Whether it was because of his strength or his recent changes, he couldn’t tell. The aftermath of the artifacts, even after removing one and reverting back to his original form, were that he began showing traits other than his own. He had canines, and was certain that his fire had changed any time he used it. It felt as though it was imprinted with more magic than normal.
Beyond that, he had determined that his cutie mark had also changed. Much like the outsider mark on his left, he now had a sort of replication of the artifacts on his right, with each circling within the hammer.
He sighed to himself as he pulled the cart. He was definitely going to be at this for some time, and it would take much longer before he could fully figure out what those artifacts had done to him.
A short time later, an arrow dug itself into the ground between his forhooves.
“Stop or the next one goes for your neck,” a voice spoke as several Gryphons landed before him. They wore simple leather armor, and their faces were covered with black bandanas.
“Consider me stopped for now,” Hammer Strike replied simply. “What’s the problem?”
“We’re going to take any valuables you have,” the leader said and nocked another arrow.
“Incorrect.”
“Quiet, Pony. Just keep things calm and we all can walk—” The Gryphon’s eyes locked on the cart. “What is that?”
“It’s a cart. Or is that too complicated for you lot to understand?” Hammer Strike furrowed his brows. “Considering your equipment, you aren’t part of the empire, and if you are, you don’t want to be recognized. I’d suggest you keep it that way.”
A few of his companions reacted by talking fast in Gryphic, assuming he couldn’t understand them.
“We should just leave. We could already be in a lot of trouble for this.”
“He’s carrying Alicorns and an Alicorn bot. We could get medals for this.”
“Or get killed out of sheer stupidity,” a third one said. “We’re not equipped to face one of those things without taking losses.”
“Aim for the eyes. We’ll shut it down and take it back for the eggheads to look at. It’ll be worth it,” the leader said, adjusting his aim.
Hammer Strike’s hooves ignited with thaumic fire, and the cart was surrounded in a dome of embers, followed afterwards by a much larger dome surrounding himself and the gryphons. “I thought your kind to be intelligent here, but clearly I was mistaken,” he growled out in Gryphic. “I gave you a chance, but you failed to understand just how generous I was being.”
Hammer Strike drew the folding blade Andre had gifted him, unfolded it, and deflected the coming arrow in one motion. He had already charged and skewered two before they had a chance to fire more arrows. Grabbing another who’d rushed him, he tossed the Gryphon into the barrier as he pulled his sword free in time to block a strike by the leader. He countered two more swings before bringing his foreleg up and sending the Gryphon back with a haymaker. As the Gryphon landed, Hammer Strike pulled out his pistol and fired several shots into the Gryphon’s head.
Hammer Strike sighed as he scanned the area once more for any additional ‘issues.’ When he was positive he was clear, he sheathed his blade and holstered his pistol. He frowned as he looked to the Gryphons before raising a hoof and suddenly slamming it down. In an instant, the bodies and blood vanished without a trace, though Cayde was able to note that the ground seemed to have raised slightly. Yet it remained visually undisturbed to the naked eye.
Following that, the domes vanished at once. “We’re clear,” Hammer Strike said curtly.
“We should probably get a cover for this,” Cayde noted.
“I can’t use any of the synthetic materials we have available to us. It will draw too much attention. We need to get some more natural or simple-looking cloth.” Hammer Strike sighed.
“What … was that?” Celestia asked
“That power I swore to ensure the other Alicorns would never figure out.”
“It’s … not magic, is it?”
“No, it’s not.” Hammer Strike gave a small smile to her as he strapped himself back into the harness.
Celestia was quiet for a time. After Hammer Strike finished cinching the straps, a weak, “Thank you,” finally emerged.
“I made a promise.” He smiled once more. “And I intend to keep it.”
Hammer Strike frowned as the road suddenly became smoother. That meant it was being maintained, and that in turn meant they were coming up on a civilization of some kind. The rising smoke in the distance soon confirmed his suspicions. The only problem was that he didn’t know of who lived in that town. Based off the road’s upkeep and the fact that none of the races in this area were this advanced, he was inclined to lean toward a darker conclusion.
“Probably Gryphons,” he muttered as he turned off the road and began leading into the forest toward a large hill.
“How do we handle this?” Cayde asked.
“It’s getting too late to continue past the town. I’ll go investigate it quickly, just to make sure, but we’re most likely going to camp near that hill,” Hammer Strike directed Cayde’s attention. “If we’re lucky, there will be a cave.”
“This village will probably be the most likely place to get cloth, you know.”
Hammer Strike nodded as he stopped at the base of the hill. “Keep an eye out. I’m going to check it out.”
Cayde levitated his charged pistol out and began spinning it idly.
Hammer Strike helped Celestia and Luna out of the cart. “Stay near Cayde, all right? I shouldn’t be long.”
Celestia nodded as she wrapped Luna protectively in her wings. “We will.”
Hammer Strike nodded his farewell and moved toward the settlement in the distance. The place was small and consisted of metal buildings spaced out fair distances, separated by fenced-in fields containing herds of deer, coops containing chickens, and pens with pigs or rabbits. The few figures he did see were either Gryphons or slightly smaller more catlike creatures that he identified as sphinxes after a few minutes of analysis.
He frowned to himself before turning back toward camp. It didn’t take long for him to arrive back to find Cayde attempting to entertain Celestia and Luna with a series of fancy gun-flips.
“It’s Gryphons and Sphinxes. We’re camping out here for tonight. We’ll also have to wait until it’s later in the night to try and cover the smoke.”
“Well, that's terrific.” Cayde sighed.
Hammer Strike frowned as he collected a small pile of kindling. Once everything was set, he waited until he was sure the dark sky would help cover their smoke trail before starting the fire. It took some time for him to set up their gear to cook some food, but everything was fully set as the moon made it’s ascent.
Hammer Strike bolted upright. His ears twitched. Something or someone was moving in the dark. “Cayde, be on guard. Don’t take the first shot. Priority is to defend the girls.”
“I’m telling you, Guerra, we should stop for lodging near the town. Surely, they’d be willing to provide us the supplies we require for the journey,” a rather high-pitched tenor said through the trees.
“Quiet Garuda,” the deeper, obviously male voice spoke. “Move slowly and keep your eyes open. Someone’s nearby.”
Hammer Strike kept his folding blade in hoof as he sat near the fire, waiting for the duo to draw close.
“Ho there!” the male voice shouted in Equestrian after a few minutes. “Hello, traveler.”
“Hello,” Hammer Strike replied simply.
“We’re unarmed, and you have us at a disadvantage. Permission to approach?”
“Granted.”
A large male Gryphon walked slowly into view. He was the classic lion eagle mixture, though Hammer Strike could see gray starting to form under his eyes and gray streaks down his neck that implied age. He wore a simple traveling tunic and carried a modified saddle bag at his side. His companion was a lithe female Sphinx with a crimson fur coat highlighted by gold around the eyes and mane. She was smaller than her companion, though her displeasure with said companion more than made up for that particular difference. Emerald eyes stared frigidly like imperial jade.
“You’re a bit far from home, aren't you?” the Gryphon asked. He chuckled as he approached slowly. “Never thought I’d see a Pony out here.”
“Lot farther than you think.” Hammer Strike frowned as he lowered the blade slightly.
“We’re just a couple travelers on the road,” the Gryphon assured him. “Not welcome in ‘civilized company’ for long, you could say. I’m Gurrea. This is my wife Garuda.” He gestured to the Sphinx. “We saw the fire and thought we’d investigate.”
“And the results of said investigation?”
“Make up for a lot of questions, but nothing requiring alarm.” The Gryphon’s eyes flickered to Cayde, Celestia, and Luna. “Spent my time on the battlefield. Never saw any Alicorn children out there.”
Hammer Strike hummed before refolding the blade. “Hammer Strike.”
“And I take it there’s quite a story behind you appearing a continent away from where you Ponies call home. But I don't need to pry. Can’t say the same for my wife.” He gave the Sphinx a wry grin. “Sphinxes always want to know. Still, you probably won’t get as warm a welcome with many others like us. Out of curiosity, why haven’t you covered that wagon?”
“No cloth for it,” Hammer Strike replied simply. “Was looking for a settlement that isn’t Gryphon or Sphinx run.”
“That will be difficult,” Garuda noted. “Many stretches along this landmass are filled with settlements. You may find the occasional Zebra or Minotaur around, but the only other species you’ll find nearby in any quantities are the Roos.”
“Problematic, but I guessed that already.” Hammer Strike frowned. “I’ll figure out something. If need be, I will have to take a risk on it.”
“What were you planning on trading?” Gurrea asked.
“Considering the ones running the village, I’ve prepared some alloys for trade.”
“You have a list of what you need?”
“Just enough cloth to make a proper cover for the cart, perhaps additional for cloaks, if need be.” Hammer Strike knew exactly what they were about to suggest, and he wasn’t quite sure whether or not to take the risk.
“Then it seems that we have a mutual interest. I want my mate here to stop in the settlement, so we can get supplies. And you need someone who can go there without raising any notice. Perhaps we can come to some sort of … arrangement?” Geruda suggested.
“What do you require?”
“I should think your story will suffice for me. How an Earth Pony came into possession of two Alicorns must be quite a feat. As for my husband, well, you’ll have to ask him.”
“I have no real urgent need from you that I can think of,” the Gryphon said.
“Then it’s settled. Your story for our help. I’d say that’s a fair deal, wouldn’t you?” Geruda asked.
Hammer Strike’s eyes dimmed for a moment before regaining their light. “Acceptable.”
“Very well. In that case, which would you prefer, us getting the materials now followed by your story or your story followed by the materials?”
“The latter. Most shops and trading posts would be closed by now.” Hammer Strike motioned to the fire. “Come warm yourselves. Just keep your distance from the foals. Cayde won’t hesitate to kill if you pose a threat, nor will I.”
“Understood. “Gurrea nodded and approached slowly.
“Have you two eaten?”
Geruda shook her head. “We haven’t, but we have enough to take care of ourselves. We know how you equines feel about meat.”
Hammer Strike shrugged. “Doesn’t really bother me.” He pulled out some chunks of meat from a sack and embedded them on a stick to roast over the fire.
“You … eat meat?”
“No, I just like burning it on an open fire.” Hammer Strike looked up to the duo and finally opened his mouth enough to reveal the canines that had grown there.
“How remarkable.” Geruda drew closer to better view the teeth. “A genetic mutation, perhaps, or a new branch of evolution?” she murmured.
“Mutation,” Hammer Strike replied simply.
“And exceptionally sharp hearing. Interesting.” She drew back a few paces to grant him proper space. “Your tale must be a long one,” she noted. “One doesn’t accumulate that many scars easily.”
“War leads to death or scars, but war grew too simple for me to get this many.”
“I assume this is part of your tale.”
“Correct.” Hammer Strike sighed. “To put it simply, so I can get this over with quickly, Group Eight, Subject Twenty.”
Geruda narrowed her gaze. “Best you start from the beginning. It sounds like this is going to be a very interesting story, indeed.”
Hammer Strike frowned as he finished up the cover for the cart. He had plenty of material left over to make a few additional things, such as cloaks for Celestia, Luna, and Cayde. Thankfully, he didn’t need to worry too much about measuring. His eye implants were able to take precise measurements for him, on top of his gut feeling.
Sewing took some time, being especially more difficult with thaumically made needles and thread, but he eventually completed a set of cloaks that would perfectly fit all three. “Celestia, Luna, Cayde, would you all come here?”
The trio complied. Luna still hadn’t said much, but at least she hadn’t shown any other signs of trauma.
“I assume those are for us?” Celestia asked.
Hammer Strike nodded as he handed each of them a cloak. “You don’t have to wear it in the cart or when we set up camp, but if we have to enter a town for some reason, you’ll need them on. That includes you, Cayde.”
“Not so bad, I guess,” Cayde said, taking the cloak.
“That also includes this,” Hammer Strike added as he revealed a mask.
“You realize you’re covering up my beautiful, beautiful horn, right?”
“And if you want to keep it, you’ll wear that.”
“Fine. Whatever.” Cayde sighed. “Still seems like a crime.”
“I’m sure you’ll manage.” Hammer Strike rolled his eyes. “We’ve got a long journey ahead of us, so I hope it’s comfortable. With the cover on the cart, we won’t have to stop as much.”
True to his word, when they set off, he refrained from stopping for several days on the first go. Of course, there were still necessary times to stop, but camping wasn’t one of them anymore.
Roo Territory, from what he could recall, stretched on for quite some distance, and while there were some settlements, he didn’t come across many in his journeys. It wasn’t until he started coming across Minotaurs that he realized he was beginning to near the end of the territory.
Days and Nights had blurred together, and his track of time was somewhat off, but that didn’t matter to him much. From what Cayde could tell, they’d been traveling for several months already by cart. If it weren’t for the fact he had to replace and repair the wheels, Hammer Strike wouldn’t have believed the automaton.
His attention suddenly sharpened as he realized they were being followed. Based on the distance between steps, they were bipedal, meaning it was likely Minotaurs.
In due course, Hammer Strike found his suspicions confirmed as they approached a large circular enclosure filled with tall square houses composed of white stone that reflected the sun. A well had been built in the center, and crops grew in tiny gardens behind the structures to ward off summer heat. True to form, the buildings and their doorways were far larger than the average Pony or Alicorn. Celestia and Luna stared at the Minotaurs as the cart drew closer. This would be their first time being near such powerful creatures.
“Is that a Pony?” one of the Minotaurs asked in Minos.
“It’s not a Zebra,” a second replied.
“Did the lack of stripes give it away?” Hammer Strike questioned aloud.
The Minotaurs stared at him in shock for a moment, obviously unsure how to take a Pony speaking their language.
Hammer Strike simply ignored them and continued on to the best of his abilities. Cayde was prepared in the back, just in case some of the Minotaurs got too curious.
“All right, Pony, what are you doing here?” the first Minotaur asked.
“Traveling. Or did you not notice the cart?” Hammer Strike sighed.
“You have a big mouth.”
“I thought it was quite average.”
The Minotaur growled and balled his three-fingered hands together.
Hammer Strike knew the signs of what was to come. Sighing to himself, he stopped and unfastened his harness. “If you’re going to do something, be quick about it. I’ve already got a long road ahead of me.”
The companion laid a staying hand over his friend’s shoulder. “You know the law. He has done no harm.”
The Minotaur snorted, still visibly angry. “He’s got a big mouth.”
“Then let him close it, and you need not have him fill it with words.”
“What do we do, then?”
“You could let me pass,” Hammer Strike noted calmly.
“Not our place to allow that.”
“Then whose is it?”
“Our leader.”
Hammer Strike sighed. “And where do I find this leader to ask permission to go on my way?”
“Tiarna is currently in meditation. She will not be available for an hour, at least,” the second informed.
Hammer Strike sighed. “I don’t have time for this, but whatever. I’ll wait.”
The slow and measured gait was the first clue of the cow’s approach. There was no sense of urgency or agitation. Her garments were simple, but functional, with a single draping robe that flowed down her body. Her horns were tiny nubs, and her fur was white as the settlement’s buildings. “Golek, what is the meaning of this?” she asked as she looked first to the simmering bull, then to the equally frustrated Earth Pony and his cart.
“A Pony appeared on the road. We thought you should decide what to do about this.”
Tiarna sighed in exasperation. “Has he shown any form of threat to any of us?”
“No,” Golek grumbled. “Just a very big mouth.”
“Quite threatening, I might add.” Hammer Strike sighed. “I simply wish to continue on my journey.”
“Then I see no reason why you shouldn’t. I apologize for Golek’s behavior. He is wary of strangers of any sort. Have you any need for water? We would be happy to refresh any supply you may have.”
“I am prepared for my journey. You need not worry.”
“Perhaps some directions, then?”
“I am north-bound, but perhaps some insight to other settlements would be useful.”
“The majority of what you will find will be the four-legs that fly with sharp fingers. However, in due course, their settlements will lessen in favor of the painted four-legs, the ones you call Zebra, and our own kind. I fear you may face challenges from headstrong males along the way. All I can suggest is you seek to remain peaceful. However, if that is no longer an option, honorable combat will grant you influence to pass unmolested.”
“If I need to fight, I’ll fight.” He sighed. “I appreciate the information, and will be on my way.”
“Safe journey, traveler.” Tiarna said. She then rounded on Golek and swiftly grabbed him by the ear. “I have words for you, Golek. Come with me.” The bellows of pain that followed Hammer Strike out of the village were almost enough to soothe the irritation of the inconvenience.
Hammer Strike sighed as he continued on his journey The Minotaur lands were mostly long stretches of open space with some rocks or drywood here and there. The constant pebbles and such that he would go over were certainly damaging the wheels enough, though. He’d already had to repair them once since they got here.
“We’ve got some followers,” Cayde commented from within the cart.
“How many?”
“Half a dozen.”
“They looking for trouble?”
“Most likely.”
“Things can never be simple, can they? Prepare yourselves.”
“Ready,” Cayde said with pistol in hoof.
Celestia held Luna close in the cart as they peered into the distance. At least the flat terrain would make it difficult for a surprise attack to have any advantage.
“I’ll head off and sneak around them,” Cayde said as he pulled his cloak in tight and vanished.
They soon found several large Minotaurs standing ahead. All of them had their weapons drawn. “Drop things. Maybe live,” their leader said in rough Equish.
Hammer Strike simply shook his head as he took off his harness.
The Minotaur growled and squeezed his great axe, raising it menacingly as a few others began to draw their weapons.
“Come on. I don’t have all day.”
The lead bull charged him with a bellow and swung. Hammer Strike attempted to brace himself, but was caught by the blow. He didn’t take any damage from the hit, but the power behind it took him off his hooves and sent him through the air.
Hammer Strike growled as he landed, and tumbled for a moment before he settled on his hooves again. From what he could tell, they were trying to separate him from the cart, most likely to loot it while he was away.
He heard the crack of Cayde’s pistol fire repeatedly. Only Minotaurs fell. A flash of orange at the edge of his vision was his only warning. He had just enough time to bring Ulkrusher up to block. The pressure of the blow was surprising, but not overwhelming. Sparks shot out where the blade met the hammer head. Hammer Strike managed to find his footing and forced the Minotaur back, then followed up with a swing of his own. The raider hopped back and swung out. The fight went on like this for a few minutes with either combatant hopping back to avoid the other's weapon or swinging at his opponent. Cracks from Cayde’s gun punctuated war cries or grunts of effort as streaks of golden yellow magic shot through the air.
Then Hammer Strike heard Celestia scream. His eyes turned bright red. There wasn’t time to worry about taking damage. He took the Minotaur's next swing in the leg. The axe barely sank into the flesh, creating little more than a small cut.
“You’re in my way,” Hammer Strike growled.
From Hammer Strike’s shoulder, one of the pauldrons shifted, turning into an amorphous black blob. It shot forward as it’s body formed a spike, and its skin darkened to metallic gray. It impaled the Minotaur through the chest before separating from Hammer Strike and withdrawing inside the wound, Hammer Strike didn’t stop to watch as the Minotaur’s corpse withered in seconds before crumbling to dust as the creature returned to its master’s shoulder.
By the time he reached the cart, Hammer Strike had killed two more of the assailants, not stopping to care when he’d broken one’s neck and sent his other pet after the second. When he reached the cart, he found … nothing. Two more Minotaurs lay dead from bullet wounds, but he couldn’t see the last, nor could he see Celestia and Luna. That was until he walked around the back, where he found Celestia curled up by the cart with Luna attempting to comfort her sister in a strange reversal of what had been for the last several months. Beside them lay the body of a Minotaur, its head destroyed almost beyond recognition inside a deep impact crater.
Once he verified the threat was dealt with, he turned his attention to the mares. “Are you both all right?”
Luna gushed excitedly. “Celly won’t talk. He came up behind us with a big club! I grabbed a rock and hit him with it, but she won’t stop shaking.”
Hammer Strike looked for said rock, but the only ‘rock’ he found nearby was a boulder roughly five times the size of the Minotaur’s head. “I see that.”
After ensuring they were safe, Hammer Strike brought the two of them close into a hug. “You did great defending your sister, Luna.”
Luna seemed pleased at such praise and completely unbothered by the fact she’d just killed something.
“It’s all right, Celestia. They’re all dealt with.” Hammer Strike moved them into the cart. “It’s all good now.”
Celestia’s eyes remained wide and her face ashen as she trembled in her cloak. “So much … everything. Blood, bone, brain….”
“I wish I could say you won’t have to see that again, but I can’t promise you that.” Hammer Strike frowned. “There will be more, someday. But for now, at least, it’s over.”
“Sorry about that,” Cayde said as he appeared. “He must have split from the others farther up and waited to take the girls hostage.”
“Which means they knew about them,” Hammer Strike growled. “Damn it, how’d they figure that part out?”
“Couldn’t have tailed us,” Cayde noted. “I mean, seeing as the nearest place to hide is….” Cayde stopped to scan the area. “Nowhere.”
“When we camp out, I want you to do a full sweep of our area. Half a mile.”
Cayde nodded. “I can do that.”
“We’re moving out now. Their bodies can serve as a warning for any others who are following us.”
Pensword stared in wide-eyed wonder. “I … I saw my High Chieftess’s first kill.” He chuckled giddily. “She truly was born to fight, and I got to see her cut her fangs in combat!” The chuckle soon gave way to a massive grin. “I feel humbled and blessed at the same time.”
“Yeah, just another reminder to stay on Luna’s good side.” Grif chuckled.
“Speak softly and carry a massive boulder. I wonder if he’s related to Tom.” Vital smirked. “Then again, I suppose Luna’s rule is speak loudly and carry a giant hammer.”
“No one else is going to question an eight-year-old killing something and walking away?” the Doctor asked.
“She’s the Alicorn that captured the hearts of all Thestrals. We appreciate power properly demonstrated. She had to start learning to use that power somewhere. I’m just amazed she used a boulder. I didn't realize she was so strong at that age,” Pensword replied. “I killed my first animal at five years old with my mother’s guidance. It’s not that unusual.”
“We’ve seen how she turns out, Doctor. There’s no need to be concerned,” Vital added. “Hammer Strike’s got it covered.”
“While that was rather … graphic, and perhaps even a little disturbing, I am inclined to agree with Vital Spark. Celestia and Luna both turned out well in the end. And they were clearly under distress. The poor dear had little choice but to defend herself,” Rarity pointed out.
“Well, just me, then.” The Doctor sighed.
“Besides, doesn’t this have to happen to help bring the future to pass as it’s meant to be?” Vital asked.
“I suppose,” the Doctor agreed reluctantly.
“Don’t worry, Doc. It happens to everypony at least once,” Derpy said as she handed a basket full of steaming culinary confection. “Muffin?”
“Can I have one, too?” Twilight asked. “I need something to cut off the edge of seeing my mentor before she became my mentor. I mean, pink! Her mane is pink!”
Derpy giggled at the mare’s antics. “Sure. The more the merrier!”
Hammer Strike sighed as he stared at their campfire for the night. It was a long day, and he thought that getting some stationary rest would help Celestia. Whatever they did to Luna, he couldn’t tell, but she showed no issue with having crushed the skull of a Minotaur, and he was certain she knew what she was doing.
Cayde had already cleared the perimeter, making sure nothing was within range of them, but he did note some stragglers in the distance. Whether they were wanderers or not, he couldn’t tell.
He was unsure whether anyone would come to him, due to him having made an open fire, but he was more prepared for it this time.
It helped though when the one approaching his camp made no notion of hiding their sounds.
“Who’s there?” Hammer Strike questioned, keeping his eyes on the fire and cart.
“Just a traveler.” It was a Gryphon, smaller breed with a short curved beak and large eyes. His face was white with a blond crest and a red breast. The rest of his body was a deep pine green. He wore a simple satchel, modified fingerless brown gloves on his talons, and strange leather sandals on his back paws with wings engraved into the leather. He also wore a wide brimmed fedora with a feather sticking out the left side of the band.
“Doesn’t answer the question.” Hammer Strike sighed. After noting his … mostly lack of weapons, he gestured for the Gryphon to come closer.
“I’m Hodios,” he offered as he approached.
Hammer Strike hummed. “Hammer Strike.”
“Odd to find a Pony this far out,” he noted.
“Says the Gryphon in the Minotaur lands.”
“Fair enough.” He nodded. “Can a friendly traveler share your fire?”
“So long as you don’t ask many questions.”
“If I can expect the same of you.”
Hammer Strike raised a brow and shrugged. “You’re fine to rest for the night. I will not be sleeping.”
“Very kind of you.” the Gryphon sat by the fire. “I take it something happened to put you on guard?”
“These roads aren’t safe, given we’re in Minotaur territory. They lean more towards ‘Might makes Right,’” Hammer Strike replied simply. “And bandits, of course.”
“A wise decision.”
“Admittedly, it doesn’t help, sitting across from a Gryphon who I know nothing about.” Hammer Strike scanned over Hodios thaumically to ensure he held no hidden weaponry. However, he was caught completely off guard by a shard of primal energy residing within the Gryphon. His body, however, seemed as though it held plenty more, unseen to Hammer Strike.
“Fair enough,” the Gryphon said. “I’m a traveler. I’ve always been so, and that's probably what I'll always be.”
“Much like your Winds?”
Hodios stared at him for a few moments, thinking his response through. “I suppose it’s an apt comparison. Though do gods belong to people or people to their gods?”
“Whether or not to their people, hmm?” Hammer Strike hummed as he looked to the Gryphon before leaning back. “I suppose it is all a matter of perspective. Any particular reasons for your journeys?”
“My family has lost most of its prominence. It’s led to trouble back home, and I decided that I'd prefer not to be around when the whole thing collapses in on itself.”
“Fair, I suppose. Though it certainly leads to more questions.” Hammer Strike gave a faint smirk.
“Questions are funny like that. They multiply like rabbits. When you’ve killed one, you find dozens more take its place.”
“Indeed. Like my question of whether or not you had hidden weapons. While it was solved, something else came up in its stead.” Hammer Strike focused his attention fully on the Gryphon. “You’re hiding your presence. What would make you do such a thing?”
“Hiding my presence? I’m right here, as you can see.” He waved a hand over himself.
“Physically, you are.” Hammer Strike nodded. “But you reek of primal energy.”
“And what would you know about that?” Hodios asked suspiciously.
“I know that aspect isn’t something placed in the mortal plane so abundantly in a singular being.” Hammer Strike sighed. “Sparks, yes. But never something so dense, nor misplaced.”
“You’re not a Pony, are you? Or rather, you didn’t start out as one,” Hodios said.
“Why, what ever would make you say that?” Hammer Strike smirked.
“Because the last people on this planet to study the arts are dead,” he stated matter-of-factly.
“Technically, no. The Alicorns figured that out, but I doubt all of them were offed.”
“If not, there isn’t a minimum sustainable population left,” Hodios countered. “And either way, they were jealous of such knowledge. Unless you’ve been dabbling in some very dark arts, I don't see how you’d acquire such knowledge.”
“To put it simply, mythology and a book.”
“Mythology is tha—book?” That got his attention.
Hammer Strike reached into his coat before stopping and reaching into the other side. After a moment, he frowned as the realization hit him. “Right, other coat,” he muttered. “Don’t have it on me, as I’m not really from this point in time.”
“That would explain a lot. This world plays with time like it’s a toy.” He nodded.
“So, which world do you hail from, then?”
“I hail from Earth. I was once an Olympian. Hodios is a name, but it’s not the name I was known by.”
“Hermes.” Hammer Strike couldn’t help but chuckle to himself.
“Indeed, and where did you hear that name?” the god asked.
“Mythology.” Hammer Strike continued to chuckle. “I can’t believe it. The second I’m away from anything Earth-related, something comes up.”
“Well, that makes sense. One only needs to walk a few hundred miles west to find a gate to Earth,” Hermes said. “It is one of the most convenient ways to other worlds.”
“What year was it when you left?”
“It was just after the Trojan war. My father was getting more and more erratic, and I didn't want to take the chance. But as for time, when you’re immortal, time is a tricky thing to track.”
Hammer Strike blinked a few times before scratching the side of his head. “That’s … roughly three thousand or more years before when I’m from.”
“And the portals aren't used as much when you are from?”
“No such thing exists anymore. Did magic really exist in these days on Earth?”
“Yes. Well mana does. Mana is the lifeblood of any life-giving planet,” Hermes explained. “Those who can take it and give it a form and a purpose practice the art called ‘magic.’ It’s the faith of people like this that keep the higher powers so powerful.”
“Well, that explains a few things,” Hammer Strike muttered.
“And the fey?” Hermes asked.
“Non-existent.”
“Huh. So their world must have been closed to Earth, too. Something must have weakened or stopped the earth's magical potential.” He shrugged. “Well, now I know not to go back.” He laughed.
“Hope you’re ready for the long haul, then.”
“Yes. Well, speaking of long hauls, I take it you’re heading back to the Pony lands?”
“Correct.”
“Well, perhaps I could travel with you,” he suggested. “I’m little more than a powerful immortal spellcaster here, but I can offer you safety at night.”
Hammer Strike hummed in thought. “How can you guarantee that?”
Hermes opened his satchel and pulled out a long golden rod with two golden snakes crawling all over it. He placed it in the ground near the fire and a wave of primal energy swept over them, the sleeping filies, the cart, and probably Cayde, wherever he was. The magic formed the symbol of Olympus on the ground and then went dormant. “Like that.”
Hammer Strike stared at the staff for a moment before shrugging. “Fair enough. We’ll give it a trial run; see how things go.”
“Fair enough.” Hermes nodded. “You have my gratitude.”
Hammer Strike frowned as he looked farther ahead of them. “If I’m correct, we’re nearing the end of the Minotaur lands. If so, it’s give or take another two weeks before we reach the coast. Afterwards, I’ll have to figure out a method to traverse water while keeping our cart.”
“Yeah. About that,” Cayde started. “So, I checked for signals just, you know, in case something turned up while making the rounds last night.”
“Something went active?” Hammer Strike turned his head toward the cart.
“I think I caught Ikora and Zavala,” Cayde said. “I thought maybe seeing as you have things here, I could go and do a check?”
Hammer Strike hummed for a moment. “Go for it. Try to keep in contact through the tablet, if you can.”
“Yeah.” Cayde nodded. “I’ll try to catch up in a few months to a year.”
“You’d better, or I’ll have to hunt down your parts and make you regret it.”
“Please, it’s me. What could happen?”
“Exactly why I stated it,” Hammer Strike replied flatly as he felt the weight of the cart shift with Cayde’s dismount. “Try to keep your cloak and mask in good shape.”
“Yeah, yeah. The world’s just not ready for my looks.”
“Don’t think it will ever be.” Hammer Strike rolled his eyes. “Get going before I regret having to send you off alone.”
“See ya later, Hammer Strike.” Cayde offered a brief salute before turning down the road. He soon vanished from view.
Hammer Strike sighed. “We’ll manage for now,” he muttered as he continued to pull the cart. The land eventually gave way to some green, and before he knew it, he was wandering grass fields. The dirt road he was on became more packed, leading him to believe it was better traveled.
“We’ve probably got a town or something nearby,” he commented before frowning. “Nothing in sight yet, besides a singular trail of smoke.”
Farther on the road, he could see a decent sized figure near a campfire.
“Get your cloaks on, girls,” Hammer Strike commented toward the cart. “Just in case. You don’t need the hoods.”
As they approached, the figure became more distinct. He was a minotaur, massive even for his species’ standards, with the strangest horns the Earth Pony had ever seen. They were massive, sprouting directly out the sides of his head and curving along his shoulder before the tips pointed forward at the end of each shoulder. Minotaur horns always curved directly upward. This particular bull was oddly dressed in a robe and carried a staff in hand.
A swift thaumis scan revealed the male was strangely magical in nature. Considering no male Minotaur could cast, it added more to the mystery.
Upon seeing them, the Minotaur raised a hand to get their attention.
Hammer Strike hummed to himself before deciding to stop. “Is there an issue?”
“You are a trader, are you not?” The minotaur asked in what sounded like almost perfect Equish. His voice was higher-pitched, and gave Hammer Strike the impression of a much smaller person.
“Not per say, but I suppose I have a few things I can part with.” Hammer Strike shrugged. “Looking for something in particular? Food, medicine?”
“Oh. My apologies. You don’t see many carts in this area, except for traders.”
Hammer Strike raised a brow. Not only was the voice and form different, but this Minotaur was exceptionally polite. That was vastly different from the males he’d had contact with previously. “What are you looking for?”
“Food, primarily, but also magical ore or gemstones, if you have any. I can pay in gold or enchanted goods, if you'd like.”
Hammer Strike pulled his cart aside before unfastening his harness. “One moment.” He pulled himself into the back and held a hoof to his mouth, signalling the fillies and Gryphon inside to remain quiet. After a moment of sorting through his supplies, he noted a few pounds of food were near the end of their quality, and some that was good to last some time. “Opals fine?” he called as he looked through his stockpile.”
“Exceptional. They have high magical potential. I'm surprised you have them. They’re not common in this area.” The Minotaur laughed as he waved his staff. Hammer Strike peered out the wagon and watched as pots holding both gold and refined ore materialized nearby with piles of staves, rough but serviceable knives, and woven bags, all with notable magical auras.
Hammer Strike loaded a small crate before hefting it out of the cart and following after it. “Can’t spare too much in terms of food at the moment, but I do have some that I can part with.”
“Oh. I know this might be a bit taboo, but would you have any hides, preferably anything I can make vellum with?”
Hammer Strike stepped back into the cart before pulling out a few sections of hide. “Yeah, actually. Haven’t been in a single spot long enough to tan or work them.”
“I could tan some extra for you as payment as well, if you’d like,” the Minotaur offered.
Hammer Strike hummed. “That’d be useful.” He grabbed a few extra pelts to add to the pile.
“Sorry I've been so rude.” He held out a hand in introduction. “Momonga.”
Hammer Strike returned the shake. “Hammer Strike.”
“Vellum or leather?” he asked.
“Leather. It’s more useful to me.”
The Minotaur turned to the hides and gestured towards them with his open hand. Magic gathered into the center before moving outwards to touch the hides. They burned with a black fire for several moments before dissipating to reveal several tanned pieces of leather and a few pieces of vellum.
“A strange spell,” Hammer Strike commented as he looked over the results. “Especially given that your kind tends to not be able to cast.”
Momonga sighed. “It’s why it’s just me alone. The herd mother thought I would bring bad luck. Some prophecy about a bull with magic becoming a great evil.” He chuckled dryly. “I’m just trying to survive right now.”
Hammer Strike frowned. “It’s situations like this that bring about prophecies and their warnings.”
“Yes, but interpretation is always the blindspot, isn't it? You stop a lion to save a young gazelle only for that lion's cubs to starve. To the lion, aren’t you evil?”
“Fair.” Hammer Strike nodded.
“The Zebra trade with me, at least, though they avoid me as well. Still, I find things I need, and some things I don't expect. The books from the Pony lands are very eye opening about magic.”
“Not many of those out this way,” Hammer Strike replied with a shrug. “Surprising to hear you found some, given how particular Unicorns are about it.”
“Well you know, some noble comes out to Zebrica expecting to set himself an estate off the silver mines, angers the wrong Zebra, his head gets taken and put on a pike, and his goods find their way to the traders. I just have to keep my eyes open.” Momonga laughed, then looked at the cart. “I could enchant those cloaks for you, make your daughters less visible, if that was your intention?”
Hammer Strike’s brows furrowed. After a moment of debate, he sighed. “Perhaps that would be for the best. Though I’d suggest you refrain from looking too much into others you come across.”
“I normally do, but the four of you are particularly strong. I could feel your aura miles away,” He said as he turned his hand to the cart and mumbled under his breath.
Hammer Strike focused thaumically on Momonga to ensure nothing was amiss.
Momonga sent his will through the weave of magic, resonating with the manna already present around them. It threaded and wove through the cloaks like the silk of a spider, placing the will of the spell into the fabric. Celestia and Luna's magical fields became shrouded, hidden among a thick veil of threads to the point that magically, Hammer Strike himself could only just feel them. Momonga ended the spell and slumped for a moment to catch his breath. “That should help.”
Hammer Strike nodded. “Just the leather will suffice for payment,” he replied.
“I appreciate it.” Momonga leaned on his staff and smiled weakly. “Perhaps our paths will cross again.”
“Should you ever find yourself in Pony lands, look me up. I’ll be around for a while.”
“I will keep that in mind.” The sorcerer laughed as he helped unload his goods from the wagon. Now that he knew about the passengers, there was no need to keep him from helping. “I doubt I'll stay here forever; just until I can learn enough.”
“Wherever the road takes you.”
Nassau was a Pony-operated port town that was only a little past its sixth decade. It was an oddity for other reasons, though. It was a settlement where Earth Ponies, Pegasi, and Unicorns lived in relative peace and jolly cooperation. The town couldn’t have a permanent population of more than three hundred Ponies at a time. It got most of its business from sailors who came in and left with the ships that came to trade with the Zebras.
Of course, this often led to trouble with sailors raised in the less open-minded areas, but the town had a very good city guard. The laws were all local as, thanks to its distance and the constant civil unrest, none of the three tribes could move to claim it without the other two taking advantage. The buildings were medieval at best, but as Hammer Strike looked down onto it, he found it a strangely comforting sight.
“Hodios, watch after the girls for a bit, all right?” he asked as he sorted through a collection of goods for trade.
“Sure.” Hodios nodded.
Celestia approached the Gryphon timidly. “Forgive me, Hodios, but Luna was wondering if you could perhaps show us some of those tricks of yours. I believe you called it … sleight of hand?”
Hodios laughed as he produced a deck of cards. “Okay, Celestia, let's see how this goes.”
Hammer Strike ensured his saddlebags were secure as he departed from the cart towards the town. It didn’t take him long to come across the road leading in. Though he wished he could blend in more easily. His strange attire and glowing eyes didn’t help him much.
The stalls that he did come across held an assortment of goods, between metals, materials, gemstones, food, and rations, they had plenty to spare. What they did not carry much of was refined goods. The closest thing he came across was someone with weapon parts, such as a few dagger blades, hammer heads, and even a few longsword blades. “Looking for trade or purchase?” he questioned.
“Purchase is preferable but I'm not against trade,” the vendor said.
“Anything you’re looking for?”
“The usual.” The vendor shrugged. “Useful material.”
“Refined iron up your alley?”
“Of course.”
Hammer Strike reached into his saddlebags and pulled out two ingots of iron. “How many are you looking to part with?”
“I’ll give you two dagger blades per ingot, a sword blade for an ingot, a hammer head for two.”
“Make it a sword blade with three dagger blades, and I’ll throw in some cloth for a few wraps.”
The pony eyed the ingots suspiciously. “What's the purity?”
“Give or take five percent at about an eighty.”
“That's a large boast,” the Pony noted. Being a unicorn, he levitated one of the ingots over. “Let me just give this a test.”
The Unicorn's horn flashed brighter for several minutes before he set the ingot down. “I’ll take your deal.”
Hammer Strike nodded as he collected the blades, ensuring he placed just enough cloth down for around three wraps. “Might be around later. We’ll see where my supply goes.”
The stall keeper nodded as he collected his haul.
Hammer Strike sorted through the stalls, trading miscellaneous goods for supplies and some gold. He’d have to gather up some decent funds to afford passage, and even more if he wanted secure passage. Equestria was northbound from his position. And with the ocean in the way, he definitely needed a boat.
After gathering some materials and supplies, he set back toward the cart, where Celestia and Luna sat in awe as Hodios continued to perform tricks.
“It’ll take me some time, but I think I have a few ways to build up some money for transport.”
“Well, that's a place to start.” Hodios laughed.
“I’ll have to make a few weapons using what we have available to us. I’ve got some blades to start, but after working with them, I should be able to trade back some decent ones in their stead.” Hammer Strike sighed. “We’ll probably be here for a couple of weeks if I can’t figure out a quicker method.”
“Have you considered dowsing or divination?” Celestia asked.
“Water supply is fine. As for resources, we’re mostly covered, but I don’t have any true stable surface to work with.”
“I’ll see if I can't make a bit extra at the taverns. I know a few songs and a few good stories,” Hodios said.
“Do be careful. I’m not quite sure how well Ponies will take to a Gryphon,” Hammer Strike warned.
“I’ll be fine.” The gryphon chuckled. “They won’t see me as anything out of the ordinary.”
“Best of luck, then.” Hammer Strike shrugged. “I’ll get to work on my end of things. Perhaps I can take you two into the town as well, one of these days,” he said to the mares.
“I … don’t know if that would be very wise,” Celestia said hesitantly.
“I wanna see it,” Luna whined to her sister.
“Those cloaks hide your presence more now. In fact, with them, the most they’ll see you both as is Unicorn fillies,” Hammer Strike clarified.
“You’re sure it will be all right?” Celestia asked.
“I’m quite positive.”
Celestia sighed. “Whatever you think best.”
Luna simply grinned.
Hammer Strike frowned as he looked down one of the sword blades he had purchased. It had been nearly six days since he arrived in the outskirts of town, and progress was going decently. He had developed a trade with some of the market workers. He would gather blades, and other miscellaneous bits, complete the sets, and refine weapons before reselling them. As it turned out, there wasn’t a weapon smith in the town. The closest thing they had was an everyday blacksmith who mostly worked on tools. He could still sharpen a blade or bust out a dent, but that was it when it came to weapons.
This in turn meant the guards of the town were starting to become more developed. Nothing too grand, but better weapons and some fixed-up armor plating certainly went a long way. The sun was rising on the horizon, leading into a new day as he nodded to himself. The blades he had worked on were all good to go, and he was prepared for his next round of trade.
As Hammer Strike readied his goods, a rumble shook his cart. A few seconds later, another followed. He scanned the horizon for signs of a cause, only for a loud screech to shred the air behind him. His attention snapped to the town, where a mountain seemed to have replaced the bay. The surface was covered in jagged peaks and waterfalls that streamed down from its vast pinnacle. The longer he stared, the easier it became to determine the makeup of the mountain in question. A great cavern yawned at its base, where two glowing orbs set their sights on the town. The base of the mountain shimmered pure silver, while the segments broken by the various rills and streams were the deepest sea-green jade. Rather than a jagged point, the edifice curved at its peak, not unlike at the knoll of a hill.
It bobbed in the bay for a few moments. Then two massive clawed fins rose out of the water, showering the quay with a deluge of ocean spray. They came down hard on a ship and tore through its moorings, crushing timber, and pulling some of the dock along with the vessel. Finally, the eyes drew closer to the mouth of the cave, and a massive sharpened beak the size of a house emerged, followed by a vast reptilian head that stretched to the sky. Its roar shook the land, and its breath spewed torrents of high-pressure water at the Pegasi that attempted to mount a defense.
“That’s … a new one,” Hammer Strike commented to himself before dropping his bags. “Hodios, watch after the girls!”
“I got them,” he responded.
Hammer Strike quickly ensured he had his folding blade, Ulkrusher, and magitech pistol at the ready before taking off towards the town. He needed a ship, and that meant he needed to make sure there was actually a ship to use.
What Pegasi managed to survive the initial attack were already attempting to stop the creature, using lighting and bows that both seemed to have very little effect other than angering the beast. Catapults were fired from the docks. These weapons had slightly better luck, but only slightly. The massive beast bellowed and swiped, sending high waves onto the town. By the time he was in range, Hammer Strike could see things would go badly unless things changed dramatically.
He brought his pistol to bear and fired a shot that struck the target hard, even going so far as to break it’s thick skin and cause a small trickle of blood to well from the spot. The beast’s massive head turned as it bellowed, trying to find the source of its pain.
Hammer Strike got it’s attention as he charged, hitting it several more times with rounds from the magic pistol. The beast continued to howl in anger and pain as it looked around for the source. By the time it noticed the Earth Pony, he was already leaping at it with sword drawn. He sunk the entirety of the blade into his opponent's flesh, pulling with all his weight. He managed to tear a large slice with the lethal blade before shooting several blasts of fire inside the cut with his hoof. The monster’s rage grew as it bellowed louder with every charge.
Emboldened by this sudden change in behavior, the other Ponies began to press harder as long spears were produced and groups began to stab at the beast.
The beast turned its attention back to the Ponies momentarily as their spears pierced flesh, and Hammer Strike used its distraction to vault himself to the top of what he assumed to be it’s head. Retrieving Ulkrusher from his back, Hammer Strike stood at the back of the creature’s neck and hoisted the hammer above his head before bringing it down with everything he could muster. There was a loud crack, like the sound of an ancient tree being felled as the neck broke from the force. Hammer Strike struck again and again before the beast could thrash about until he felt something give way under the flesh beneath him. With one final pitious groan, the beast stopped moving as it breathed its last, shuddered, and died.
Hammer Strike huffed to himself as he caught his breath. Mobility was not his strong suit, so having to go the extra mile in order to keep up with this monster’s scale, let alone its durability, took more effort than he was used to giving. After a few moments, he placed Ulkrusher on his back before jumping off the creature's neck.
Ponies who had gone into hiding were starting to come out of their spaces while the guard simply cried out in victory.
“Hooey! What a rush!” one of the Pegasi cheered. He was promptly smacked on the backside of the head by a glowering mare with pink fur and an off-white mane. She glided to the corpse and alighted next to the Pony.
“You’ve got quite a swing, Earthwalker,” she noted. “What’s your name?”
“Hammer Strike.”
“How appropriate.” She looked over the monster’s corpse, then back again. “The town’s head will want a word with you. It’s not often a Pony’s able to pull off something like that. The whole port would’ve been destroyed if you hadn’t intervened.”
“Yeah, plenty of problems would have come from that,” Hammer Strike replied. “Where am I heading?”
“Best bet is probably to stick here till we get the populace under control. It won’t take long for Baroness to find you, especially if I leave a few of my guards with you.”
It took a half hour to corral the various denizens and calm them enough to begin the recovery process. At last, a Pony with a gray fur coat and a silver-streaked mane strode forward. Her cutie mark depicted a crown sitting atop a scepter. Her eyes were a dull blue-gray, and her body slumped with the beginnings of exhaustion. “So, you’re the Pony I have to thank for saving our settlement,” she said tiredly.
“Couldn’t just sit by,” Hammer Strike replied simply.
“You know we can’t offer much of a reward. We trade well enough, but we’re far from rich. What are you, some sort of monster hunter?”
“I suppose, in a way, I am.” Hammer Strike shrugged. “I don’t need money. Though I could use some transportation with enough room to bring my cart.”
“I assume that means you’re looking to cross the ocean.”
“I’m looking to return home, or at least to the same landmass as home.” Hammer Strike rubbed the back of his head. “It’s been interesting. My time with the Roos, Minotaurs, and Zebras has been … eye-opening, to say the least.”
“You realize we won’t be able to necessarily put you off immediately. There are repairs that have to be made, and there’s this carcass to deal with. And that’s before we can even locate a captain bound in that direction.”
“That’s perfectly understandable.” Hammer Strike shook his hoof. “I’m in no particular rush. I can help out with the carcass as well. Though I admit I’ll certainly be collecting some scales and such from it first.”
“After what you just did, you can take whatever you want from the damned thing. I’m told these creatures can be pretty valuable in the magic community. Assuming we can harvest from it, it could provide some good funding to help rebuild.”
“I won’t need much. The rest is all yours. A bone or two, a good amount of scales. We’ll see as time goes on.”
“If you’d like, we have lodgings that we can offer as well. Given what you’ve done for the rest of our community, it would be rude of me not to offer you any amenities or accommodations I can.”
Hammer Strike hummed to himself for a moment. “Perhaps. It’s been quite some time since I or my companions have rested indoors.”
“How many in your party?”
“Three others. My daughters and a Gryphon.” It would be obviously strange to just remark it as two random children, and he had no intention of explaining the last almost two decade and a half to her.
“I think we can manage that. The majority of the damage was done on the shoreline. Bring your wagon and party to the meeting hall, and we’ll make arrangements.
Hammer Strike nodded in response before setting off to gather his things.
“Still awe-inspiring seeing him Fight,” Pensword muttered joyfully. “I remember reading a little about those creatures in the Canterlot Archives. Though, why would it have attacked there? They usually mated much farther south and closer to Roo landmass to lay eggs, didn’t they?”
“Dragon turtles are incredibly territorial,” Twilight said. “Likely, the town wasn’t there when it last went through the area, so it was wanting tribute. It’s amazing to actually be able to see one, even through a screen. The few that have been documented in the present are usually highly reclusive.”
“I’m no expert, but that thing didn’t seem very intelligent. How can it demand a tribute?” Vital asked.
“And some of the older dragons seem to be geniuses to you?” Grif asked.
“You know full well these aren’t the same dragons as the ones we knew back on Earth, Grif.”
“They’re still dragons,” Grif said. “Still have hoarding instincts, and they’re still not above bullying to get what they want.”
“But I thought dragon turtles were supposed to be more feral and non-sapient. Unless you meant demand more in the primal sense of the word, rather than the traditional interpretation.”
“There is a difference between being feral and not being sapient,” Grif noted. “I’ve seen dozens of warriors go feral in the midst of combat.”
“Fair enough. I guess the question is, are they like the animals Fluttershy takes care of or less intelligent and incapable of anything but the basest communication?”
Rarity rolled her eyes. “Leave it to Grif to draw somepony into a debate.”
“Actually, I think that one was Vital Spark,” Derpy noted.
“I agree with Derpy. It was definitely Vital this time. Regardless, all animals have their own level of body language and signs. I’m sure the townsfolk would have seen some warnings. They probably either misunderstood or ignored them. Sometimes, gaining sapience to our level dulls our other senses. But that’s just my two bits on the matter.” Pensword smiled. “It’s good to hear us debate again.”
“Yeah, well they’re lucky Hammer Strike was there. Otherwise, the thing wouldn’t have releneted until it had destroyed the town and taken everything,” Grif said.
Pensword shivered. “And another ghost town would have been born.”
“More like dragged into the depths,” Vital pointed out.
“Semantics, Vital. They’d have the legends formed from the next ship to arrive and find the town gone.”
“Not legends; just questions,” Vital countered. “And they probably would have been killed, too, before they had the chance to report on it. You know, territorial and all that.”
Pensword sighed and rolled his eyes. “I guess I’ll just have to take your word on that, since I haven’t studied the creatures.”
“Yeah, I agree. Let’s just go with Grif and Twilight’s word,” Vital said.
The familiar clack and drag of chalk on slate drew the attention of the debators as Derpy stowed a fresh piece on the shelf of a black board. “And that’s one more for Grif,” she said cheerfully.
“Wait, she’s been keeping count?”
Hammer Strike hummed as he looked out on the ocean. They were within a few hours of reaching land. The vessel was very similar to an Earth Carrack, with a body not unlike the sailing ships up to the 18th century. The foredeck in the bow had an open-air roofed area to store supplies and house lower watchmen. The first of three masts rose out of this roof with a giant brightly painted nest for observers. A large flag flew from the main mast, which rose at the end of the giant well deck. A larger crow’s nest sat at its top as well. From there, the lines of the ship curved up to an upper deck over the captain’s quarters with a second open air area. Painted shields lined the side of the vessel in that quarter of the ship. A wooden structure also covered the wheel, so tarp and other protective measures could be placed over the ribs to shield the area from severe wind and rain. A third mast with slanted rigging rose at the front of the structure to allow a triangle sail to be deployed, while the other two utilized traditional square rigging. A wooden painted Siren sat at the ship’s prow as the figurehead.
Hammer Strike sighed as he rubbed the back of his neck. He mostly kept out of the way of the crew working the ship, leaving him, Celestia, Luna, and Hodios to keep clear or stay with the cart. Celestia and Luna thankfully fell into the rolls of his daughters relatively quickly, leaving no concerns from the crew of the ship.
“Land ho!” The call was welcomed by many of the crew as the ship followed the pull of a current to draw nearer to the landmass.
“All right, stop your gawking. You lot know the drill. Step lively! Man your posts! Trim those sails! Let’s move it, people!” The captain continued to bark her orders before she finally turned to her guests and approached. Her gray feathers blended well with her yellow sea coat, and her mane flowed freely behind the breeze some of her crew generated to help slow the ship and maneuver it toward land. “All right, Mister Strike, we’ve neared our destination. Now we have the question of how you want to disembark. I couldn’t help but notice how you and your friends have eyed my crew when we’ve gotten close to your daughters. Either you’re overprotective or all is not as it seems. Regardless, we owe you. If you want to get off someplace quiet without being noticed, we know a place.”
“Whatever works best for you and your crew,” Hammer Strike replied simply.
The captain nodded briskly. “Right, then. You heard him, lads, ladies. Move your sorry plots!” They navigated around the shoreline until they reached a sheltered cove protected by a narrow inlet. There, they hove to and weighed anchor to begin unloading their passengers’ cart and supplies.
“What territories am I looking at from this position?” Hammer Striked questioned as he followed along his cart.
“To the north, you’ll find mostly Gryphon territory. They don’t care much for us either way, so you should be relatively safe with them, unless you’re wanted by the crown. Steer clear of the west. That’s dragon territory, and they like to hunt Ponies for sport. Even Unicorns aren’t stupid enough to go there without permission, though the land is full of precious gemstones and other resources, so it may be worth the risk, if you’re quick.” She waved behind them and to the right. “South and east are mostly ocean, sand, and cliff face. We’re at the far southeast corner of the landmass. If you want to navigate safely, travel due north. You can divert west for a certain distance, but only do so if it’s absolutely necessary. The Dragon lands spread all the way up the continent, and they weave over the land. If your path takes you through their turf, I’d advise hiring some Gryphons for an escort.”
“I suppose I’ll need to trade for some resources, anyway.” Hammer Strike frowned. “Thanks for the info.” He gave her a brief smile as he prepared the cart for travel.
“Any time. Talk is cheap. You more than paid for it when you saved my ship.”
“Should our paths ever cross again, hopefully it’ll be with less giant monsters.” He gave a brief wave as the girls got into the wagon, then set off with Hodios at their side.
Hammer Strike found himself several days north staring at the city before him. It had been built on a plateau on one side of a massive gorge. The mountain behind it had been cut into to the point where it looked as if some entity had taken a massive pie-shaped slice out of it. Stone walls rose around the edge of the plateau, leaving no purchase to stand outside them.
On top of the walls, towers stood where Hammer Strike could make out figures manning what seemed like automated ballistae moved by gears and cogs through systems of levers. The only breach in the wall was, of course, the massive gate at the front connected to a lone bridge. Airships of varying designs and types moved about the airspace constantly.
From where Hammer Strike stood, he could see large buildings on the other side of the walls and busy streets filled with moving figures. As they approached the bridge, he looked to see two Gryphons dressed in black armor that covered them from beak to tail tip. Veins of grey fed through the armor, constantly arcing with bolts of electricity. Each Gryphon was armed with a large long-bladed spear and eyed people carefully as they approached to cross.
“Business?” one of the guards asked as they approached.
“This Pony hired me as a guide. We’re stopping here to trade for supplies,” Hermes said as he pulled a paper from his pack and offered it to the guard, who examined it and nodded.
“Just keep watch over them inside. Whole empire’s on edge still,” the guard offered as he handed the paper back.
They began to cross the bridge with the rest of the crowd. “Sorry about that, but they don’t often expect Ponies to answer.”
“Understandable, considering most Ponies tend to want to avoid most Gryphons.” Hammer Strike nodded. “I’ve converted what gold we had into beaks for trade.” He sighed. “Should be enough for some supplies. The quicker we obtain them and get out of here, the better.”
They were checked again at the gate, and Hermes handled it. Then they were inside the city. Large gleaming buildings shot from the ground as Gryphons covered the air and patrolled the streets. Steam rose from vents in numerous areas as mechanisms operated, some showing off goods at stores. Clockwork elevators and staircases rose and fell constantly. Hammer Strike found himself backing up to allow the path of a vaguely Gryphon-shaped collection of plate metal gears and cogs as it moved forward. Shops showed off bizarre inventions he had no time to examine. Every now and then, he’d find strange prosthetic devices.
Among the hustle and bustle of the city, he saw several other groups of Ponies with a Gryphon either guiding them or leading them by a rope, depending on the group. The Gryphon shied away from those.
“Slaves or bounties. Ponies pay for either,” he explained.
Eventually, Hodios led them to a small section of stalls. The atmosphere was notably easier, and Ponies and Gryphons seemed to be doing business directly without trouble.
“Hodios, mind looking for some whetstones for me while I look for some travel rations?” Hammer Strike asked.
“Yeah.” He nodded and slipped into the crowd.
Hammer Strike browsed through the stalls, attempting to locate what would be best for him to work with. Though it took some time, mostly due to the fact that he was unable to trade anything he knew would be worthwhile, due to the questions that would surface from it, he eventually completed his task and regrouped with Hodios.
“I got the whetstones,” he said, offering Hammer Strike the bundle.
Hammer Strike quickly checked over the stones and nodded. “Perfect. These will prove quite useful in the near future. I think we’re good to go, unless you have something else in mind that we need?”
“I don’t. Though, if you're interested, I may be able to show you something.”
Hammer Strike raised a brow. “What’s up?”
“Someone as well informed as you, I'm willing to bet you know what stormstone is?”
“Correct. Why do you ask?”
“Do you know how it’s processed?”
“Not entirely, to be honest.”
“Would you like to find out?”
Now there was a thought. “Actually, yes, I would.”
Hodios smirked. “See, they don’t think most Ponies will understand, and to be honest, they’re not wrong, so it’s not entirely well guarded from the casual observer....”
Hammer Strike didn’t need to hear any more. “Lead the way.”
The god chuckled. “So, what do you know about stormstone?” he asked as they made their way down.
“It’s a good conduit for power.”
“Are you aware of its stability issues?”
Hammer Strike nodded.
“Here is where the Gryphons process it to make fuel rods, which are much more stable than the raw material.”
They entered a building through a small narrow entrance on the side and into a very hot factory-like room where clockwork arms worked tirelessly. Hammer Strike walked with Hermes slowly watching as large slates of blood-red stone were crushed to powder, which was then spread across the surface of storm stone cores before they were exposed to heat. As the heat rose, the red stone melted into the core, and the core took on a slightly pinkish tinge. Glowing orange as they exited, they had another dose of powder put onto them before being heated again. This time, liquid rock was drained out of the new furnace. It was collected into troughs and then carefully doled out into molds. When the molds were broken, Hammer Strike noticed they’d been lined with more red powder as the new fuel rods were removed.
The fuel rods came in several sizes and shapes, depending on the need. Hammer Strike studied the materials used and temperatures applied silently, trying to pass it off as just curiosity at the process before they passed through the production line.
It was roughly an hour later when they left. “Was that educational?” the god asked.
Hammer Strike smiled. “Very much so, considering this trip has turned into a two-for-one.”
“Well, Grif, it’s official. You’ve now seen one of the lost cities of your history. What I’m wondering is whether it was more of a settlement or if that was more like a second capital,” Vital said as he levitated a piece of fried chicken coated in orange sauce into his mouth.
“It was more than that.” Grif never took his eyes off the screen. “Gryphelheim may have been where the emperor lived, but this city was the technological center. It was the place of countless marvels.”
“The holy grail of your peoples’ sciences, then.”
Grif nodded. “Like El Dorado to the conquistadors.”
“We’ll need to put our best efforts into making a visit later, then. If you’re going to bring back your gods, it’s only a matter of time before they’ll want you to start building again.”
“Yeah, and I’m going to fly my banner from those walls.” He smirked.
“Hammer Strike’s, too. Or will this one be all yours?”
“This one will be mine. Hammer Strike knows it’s one of the few things I’ve wanted just for me.”
“That, and you won’t abuse it.”
“That's true.” He nodded.
“So, if we’re doing archaeology for the Alicorn Empire already, then how long do you think until you can go after this other city?” Twilight asked.
Grif shrugged. “It depends on what Hammer Strike decides when he returns.”
“Both are important sites,” Rarity noted. “So, in all likelihood, he’ll simply have another team secure it, probably led by Grif.”
“I suppose we could always ask The Doctor,” Vital said with a knowing smirk.
“That would be spoilers,” The Doctor noted.
“I know. I just wanted to hear you say it.”
Hammer Strike frowned as he scanned around the cart once again. He was in the Dragon lands, but it was unfamiliar from what he knew normally. Rather than the usual barren landscape he knew of, it was covered in spires, and a quick scan revealed them to be almost made entirely of ore, both common and rare. Iron, gold, platinum, copper, tin, aluminum, you name it, it was there in some form.
Gemstones were also plentiful, from what he found in the ground beneath him. It was such a drastic change compared to the modern day, and it left him pondering what could have changed in the period of time between.
“This place is … incredible,” Celestia said as she took in the landscape. The sheer abundance of resources and the placement of some of them bespoke a certain artistry, or at least hinted at some form of organization.
“It certainly is,” Hammer Strike replied. “I haven’t seen the Dragon lands display such grand amounts of resources.”
“You mean you’ve been here before?”
“Not a full visit, but I’ve seen some sections of it before, and it definitely wasn’t like this.” Hammer Strike hummed.
“When was this?” Hermes asked.
“Some length in the future.”
“Well, something must have happened in the meantime”
“Exactly my point. What would decimate this amount of material?” Hammer Strike frowned.
“A calamity?”
“It’d have to be something major.” He shrugged. “I guess we’ll find out one day. Until then, however…”
“We keep going?” Celestia guessed.
“And plan accordingly for whatever comes.” Hammer Strike nodded. After a moment, he hummed aloud. “You awake back there, Luna?”
Luna nodded, yawning.
“Can’t hear a nod,” Hammer Strike replied after hearing the yawn.
“Yes,” she groaned tiredly.
Celestia giggled. “Sounds like someone wants to spread her wings.”
“If you all want, there is nothing for some miles from our location. You can come out of the cart and walk around a little with me,” Hammer Strike offered.
“What do you say, Lulu?” Celestia smiled at her sister.
“Okay,” she said.
The two leapt out of the cart and stretched their legs before falling in stride with Hammer Strike. “I admit I don’t know very much about Dragons, other than the fact that they can be very territorial. You … know how researchers felt about other races,” Celestia said.
“They were very adamant on their own position in the world,” Hammer Strike replied simply. “They’re a very territorial race, and tend to lean more toward violent tendencies for most situations. This isn’t a case for all of them, do keep in mind.”
“Have any of them ever been friendly?”
“There have been a number of them.” Hammer Strike nodded. “Just because the majority is this way doesn’t mean that all of them are.”
“Given how territorial you say they are, I’m surprised we haven’t met any yet. Are you tracking them somehow to avoid them?”
“Mostly keeping focus on our surroundings for any change in the environment. Augments certainly help in that regard.”
“They are useful,” Celestia agreed. “They helped with many an ailment back … back home.”
Hammer Strike nodded. “There were times where their knowledge would have benefited everyone, but they chose to keep to themselves. I can’t fault them for solitude, but I can fault them for their methods.”
“The way you and Mother acted, … it must have been terrible.”
“Be glad that you will never learn.” Hammer Strike sighed. “Though the means for such ends wasn’t the greatest.”
“Will you tell us some day?”
“One day, perhaps, when everything is settled and we no longer have to worry about the days to come. That, and when you’re older.”
Celestia smiled wryly. “That age old line, huh? I suppose I have to trust your judgement. After all, you haven’t led us wrong yet, Father.”
Hammer Strike raised a brow as he looked to Celestia before giving a faint chuckle.
Hammer Strike frowned as he pulled the cart into a nearby cave. It was abnormally large, despite having no signs of life within, but even after scanning it over, he determined it to be empty.
He sighed as he removed his harness and moved toward the back of the cart to unload some of their gear. It didn’t take him long to lay everything out before turning towards Hermes. “Hodios, would you mind getting everything going? I think I’m going to gather some materials while we’re here. Cave should be plentiful enough.”
“I didn’t see a pickaxe among the supplies,” he noted.
Hammer Strike shrugged. “I can make one.”
“Okay, I'll make sure things are ready when you get back.”
Hammer Strike nodded as he equipped his saddlebags and made his way deeper into the cave. It didn’t take long for him to find a vein of iron within the walls that he could work with. He separated it from the walls with his thaumaturgy and shaped it roughly into a pickaxe head. Using spare wood he kept in his saddlebag, he fused it together to form a rough pickaxe. While it wouldn’t last forever, it would help him gather the necessary ore without having to separate it all thaumically. It actually took less effort on his part to mine the stuff manually, due to the taxing nature of flexing his thaumic field.
The cave was abnormally open, as though it was purposely dug out, but with no residents within. It contained many of the resources he had found outside in the spires spread across the land, though not as plentiful as he’d expected, leading him to believe there was a resident at least at some point.
He continued his work, clearing stone out of the way and gathering what materials he could for whatever he would need. Gold was sparse, but still enough for him to replicate some currency, depending on the city. Iron was always useful, especially if he could gather some coal. He could use thaumaturgy to infuse the carbon within and make some form of steel. Copper, tin, and others, while not as useful in this day and age, he could use to make some pieces of equipment or otherwise that he could potentially use, such as wiring.
After some time, however, he began to notice a strange feeling. It was certainly different compared to most forms of energy that beings would use on him. It wasn’t fully something attempting to cover him, but it lingered in the air.
Hammer Strike frowned as he scanned the area. There was nothing near him, and he couldn’t pick up any form of life apart from a small mark farther in the cave. It wasn’t a developed thing, but it was the only thing he could note besides Hermes, Celestia, and Luna.
It took some clearing, but eventually Hammer Strike broke into a small cavern that had been sealed by a cave in. It took him a moment to study, but eventually he realized that it was a den for a dragon. Two, from the looks of it. Unfortunately, they were little more than corpses now. They must have died some time ago.
The bones weren’t overly large, leading him to believe it was some younger dragons, though the skeletal structure was strangely formed compared to most. He frowned as he noted the intense amount of magic coming from the two corpses. But what really caught his attention was the egg sitting between the two, surrounded by gemstones.
That was where the energy was coming from. It was a raw emotion projected through an aura of magic. And it was sorrowful.
Hammer Strike frowned as he looked around once again. The parents had died some time ago, and from the looks of it, they both protected the egg until the end.
The egg itself was still alive, though. And while it could put a strain on things, he couldn’t just leave it there. He sighed as he pulled out a full set of straps from his saddlebags and made a makeshift holster for the egg. It took a few minutes, but eventually he was able to secure the egg onto his back. On top of that, he took a selection of the gemstones, knowing it was at least a form of food for the dragons.
Looking towards the corpses once again, he gave a low nod and turned to the exit once more. The sorrow that filled the cave felt lessened, but still present. It took three hours in all to finish his work in the caves and return to the entrance, where the others had established camp and were currently cooking a meal.
“Welcome back,” Hermes greeted as he worked on the food.
“Hey,” Hammer Strike replied as he moved toward the fire before beginning to detach the egg from his back. He laid it close to the flames to give it as much warmth as possible.
“You went back to mine and found a dragon egg?” Hermes asked in surprise.
“It still lives as well.” Hammer Strike frowned. “Surrounded by two sets of bones.”
“Prey?” Celestia asked.
“Parents, most likely.”
“So, … it’s an orphan?”
“Basically.” Hammer Strike frowned as he looked over the egg again.
“Are we keeping it?” Luna asked.
“It seems that way.”
“So, how are we supposed to take care of it?” Celestia asked.
“I’ll have to start using some magic to keep it at an even temperature, and I collected a good sum of gemstones. I’ll have to collect more when the time comes.”
“To feed it?”
“Until I can gather alternate food sources, yeah.”
“Would you mind if …?” Celestia blushed. “If Luna and I were to name it when it hatches?”
“We’ll see when the time comes.” Hammer Strike gave a small smile. “Until then, we wait.”
Hammer Strike sighed as he continued to pull the cart behind him. Everyone had gathered within it once again, due to a few dragons appearing in the distance. He frowned as he continued to scan their area, ensuring that if anything were coming in their general direction, he would be prepared to handle it.
As he scanned the horizon, his vision suddenly lost color as his darkvision took hold. He stopped as his attention was turned to a nearby mountain where a small mark appeared before it. After a moment, it suddenly stopped and he could move again.
He groaned as he placed a hoof to his head. If Outsider wanted to talk to him, he didn’t have to do it through those means. After a moment, he moved the cart in the direction of the mountain. “We’re taking a small detour,” he called to the occupants.
“Where to?” Celestia asked.
“Nearby mountain. We’re probably going to camp by it unless there’s a cave. If there is, and it’s clear, we’ll camp in it.”
It didn’t take long for Hammer Strike to reach the mountain, and the marker was even placed at the entrance to a cave which, from the looks of it, wasn’t in use. Like usual, Hammer Strike detached himself from the cart once he was sure it was secure. “Hodios, mind setting up camp? I need to check something out.”
“We’ll be here when you get back.” The Gryphon nodded as they began to set up.
Hammer Strike nodded in turn as he moved deeper into the cave. At first it seemed empty as he followed the stone corridor and the light dimmed behind him. But just as the cave seemed to lose all natural light, a glow appeared from somewhere ahead. Hammer Strike continued walking as the light got brighter until he could make out an opening with a bright glow coming from it.
What he found was a massive dome-shaped cavern. The glow was coming from what he took to be lava flowing out through openings in the walls into lakes of the stuff that covered nearly the entire floor space. When he got closer to look at it, he realized the substance wasn’t lava, but pure molten gold. A small stone pathway led to the center where a large circular plateau stood outside the molten gold. On it curled a massive dragon with flawless platinum scales. He had a large razor-like fin across the back of his head with great horns pointed straight backwards. Hammer Strike could feel the primal energy pouring off him.
“I get the feeling I made a wrong turn somewhere back there,” Hammer Strike muttered.
We all make wrong turns from time to time. The voice echoed in his mind as an eye twice his size opened, revealing a bright blue pupil that locked on him.
“So … uh,” Hammer Strike tried to form some coherent thought. “You rang?”
Well, I thought considering what you found, we should have a conversation, the dragon said. I trust you can tell what I am?
“Divine in nature?” Hammer Strike replied.
A god, yes. The dragon lifted his great head. Greetings, Hammer Strike. I am Bahamut.
Hammer Strike blinked a few times. “Honestly, I’m completely caught off guard by this revelation. So … if I am correct, you wanted to evaluate me?”
You recently came into possession of a very important egg.
“Like, it’s got a grand fate lined up for it very important, or…?”
You’ve probably heard that all life on Equis was made by one person. Would that be correct?
“Not really.” Hammer Strike rubbed the back of his head. “Sorry, some mythology and religion never fully stuck in my head.”
Well then, let's start with what you likely know. In your original world, you had a game. I believe me and my much-hated sister played a part in it. The reason for that is that, at one point, a very long time ago, I and my sister did hold some influence in your world. We are the gods of Dragons, you see. And as such, we exist anywhere Dragons exist. Much like the ones that once existed on Earth in your time or the ones that exist in Equestria. Dragons are unique because I and my sister were forced to work together to create them in this world, and thus we had to give them an equal share of good and evil.
“That … certainly explains a few things.” Hammer Strike hummed.
But more than that, originally, there were two different breeds of dragon. Bahamut sighed deeply, sending a plume of white smoke toward the domed ceiling. The scaled dragons, you are no doubt aware of. And then there are the feathered Dragons.
“Feathered Dragons?” Hammer Strike leaned forward a little.
Bahamut nodded. Yes, feathered Dragons. They are almost extinct at this time. In fact, the last egg is now in your possession.
Hammer Strike blinked in surprise. “The last one?”
I’m sure you’ve noticed by now. Dragons are proud, bahamut said disdainfully. His teeth curled back in a disgusted snarl. Far too proud.
“Their strength puts many races to shame. It was only a matter of time.” Hammer Strike frowned. “What would you have me do with the egg?”
Protect it. Hatch it, and raise it well. When we created the dragons, we gave the majority share of magic to the feathered ones. The scaled ones received our strength and endurance, but little in the way of actual magic. When this was realized, the scaled ones coveted magic as much as gold, and began a terrible war. I fear my sister’s influence was far stronger than I’d thought.
“Thus, the eradication of the feathered Dragons came.” Hammer Strike frowned. “Is it safe to assume the egg will require heat and a steady supply of magic to hatch?”
Bahamut nodded. More magic than heat, in this case. If it were other Ponies, I’d have doubts they could hatch it. But we both know you’re experienced in the way.
“I’ll see to it, then.” Hammer Strike nodded. “Though I’m uncertain how long it will take me.”
Longer to raise it than to hatch it, I believe. Bahamut chuckled. It’s sad to think this will be our only meeting without the tension. The god shook his head. You have quite a distance to go before you reach your home yet.
“It’s only some thousands of years.” Hammer Strike gave a weak smile. “Pretty sure that’s just a blink for divine beings like you.”
A hundred interesting things can happen in the time it takes one such as I to blink. Bahamut sighed. As I have mentioned, Dragons are prideful and selfish. I cannot in good conscience ask you to spare any who make trouble for you. All I can ask is that you don’t kill more than necessary.
“As per usual, only if needed.” He nodded. “I can manage that.”
I’d offer you my blessing, but another god already has their plans for you, so I will simply offer my best wishes and hope you find what you need.
“We both know a vacation is out of the question,” Hammer Strike replied with a shrug as he turned toward the exit. “I’ll see to it. Should our paths ever cross again.”
They will. Bahamut sighed. Until they cross again. With that, the massive dragon laid his head down and closed his massive eye.
Hammer Strike eventually found his way back to the group. Hermes had finished setting up camp as per usual. “Nothing can be simple, can it, Hodios?”
“Not in the least.” The Gryphon shook his head.
“You know what just happened?”
“I have an idea, but I don't know everything.”
“Yeah, massive dragon. Friendly, at least,” he said simply.
“Guessing he had something to say about your recent acquisition?”
“Yep. Also gave me the green light to kill any Dragons, if needed.”
“Let's hope it doesn’t come to that.”
Hammer Strike frowned as he scanned the area around himself once again. They had packed up and headed out, but the activity of Dragons nearby was definitely more than normal. They definitely had noticed him. There was no way around it, so it was only a matter of time before there would be some form of confrontation.
“Hodios, keep yourself ready, all right? We’ve got roughly a ninety percent chance of some Dragon coming to us,” he called out toward the cart.
Hodios sighed. “Of course there is.”
“We’ve had too much activity.” Hammer Strike frowned. “Probably the mix of the cargo and who I stumbled across last night.”
It took three hours before they heard the first roar in the near distance.
“Ten bits says it’s for us,” Hammer Strike commented.
“I don’t make stupid bets,” Hermes answered.
A thunder of Dragons appeared in the sky, laughing to themselves as they circled the cart and landed in a wide circle. They were a wide mixture of gender and colors, but all were around the same size.
An ugly greenish-blue Dragon stepped forward. He was slightly larger than the rest with crooked yellow horns. “Well, what do we have here? A Pony trying to pass through without paying?”
“Yeah, I was doing pretty well in that regard until you lot showed up.”
“Well, now. We can’t have that,” the Dragon said. “Let’s see what you have to pay with.”
“I’ll pay you with my time.” Hammer Strike removed his harness before cracking his neck. “How much do you want?”
“Really, Pony? Your Gryphon doesn’t mean much out here.” The Dragon laughed.
“You really think I consider him a bigger threat?” Hammer Strike frowned.
“You obviously don’t understand what’s happening here,” the Dragon said.
“Oh, I know exactly what you have in mind. It’s not that difficult to read you lot. Now, are you going to keep on talking, or are you actually going to do something?”
The Dragon growled and launched at him. Hammer Strike had very little patience. He decided the best choice afforded to him was to send a message. With a short burst of the time aspect, he made it seem like he’d moved with super speed, coming up behind his charging opponent and grabbing him around the neck with one leg. The other Dragons watched, confused and frightened as their leader struggled to release himself from the grip. Then, in front of all of them, Hammer Strike placed his other hoof on the leader’s head and twisted it sharply to the side with a resounding crack.
He let the now dead dragon fall to the ground unceremoniously and stared blankly at the rest of the would-be-raiders.
“Anyone else? I’m on a tight schedule, so I’ll have to make it quick.”
With a rush, the Dragons vanished as they took to the air, unsure with how to deal with this new threat.
“Pathetic.” Hammer Strike sighed as he looked to the Dragon at his hooves. After a second of debate, he thaumically pulled a selection of scales off the body into a pouch before throwing the pouch into the cart. The carcass could be left to rot, and to warn any other Dragons in the area.
“What’s this?” Celestia’s voice asked from behind the canvas folds.
“Dragon Scales. Might be useful later on,” Hammer Strike replied simply as he fastened the cart harness on once again and resumed their journey.
“Is it just me, or is it starting to feel like when we were on the ocean?” Celestia asked.
“Is it?” Hammer Strike looked around. The land had become less barren. The spires of ore and gemstones had thinned. He frowned as he looked ahead of them, and in the distance he noticed some life. A few lively trees and some grass patches were the best he could make out farther ahead.
“I think we’re almost out of the dragon lands,” Hammer Strike commented.
“And where will we go from there?”
“I have somewhere for us to go,” he replied simply. “A nice house, farm, smithy, mine. It’s all there.”
Celestia cocked her head as she processed that. “I’m … confused.”
“‘How could there be a house there if he isn’t from now?’ Am I correct?”
“Something like that,” she admitted.
Hammer Strike proceeded to step into the still-in-motion cart. “Like this.”
Celestia gaped at him. “H-how—?”
“Very carefully,” the Hammer Strike in the cart replied. “There’s a lot more to it, but I’ll explain that later on.”
“You're the best, Daddy!” Luna giggled.
“Which one?” both replied at the same time.
Luna could only look between them, utterly perplexed.
“I think it’s me,” the one in the front commented.
“Far enough.” the other shrugged.
“So, you’re not both linked?” Celestia asked uncertainly.
“Technically, I am,” the one within the cart replied.
“It’s just that I'm very good at fine tuning it,” the one pulling the cart finished.
“... I think I may need to lie down for a second.”
“You’ve got plenty of space in here.” Hammer Strike hummed. “So, this is what it’s like in here when we’re on the move.”
Celestia settled down on the floor and nodded numbly. “Yes. This is.” She looked at Hermes. “Did you know about this?”
“I knew a few things, but not everything.” Hermes shrugged.
“How long can you keep it up?” she asked the clone.
“Indefinitely, though it depends on the situation. Combat was a bit taxing last time I did this.”
“You can fight with it?” Luna asked. Her eyes widened.
“I have before, but it was very taxing on my energy and mind. I don’t know how effective I can be with it now.”
“Do you intend to experiment later, then? Once we’ve reached our destination, I mean,” Celestia said.
“We’ll see.” Hammer Strike chuckled as the version of him in the cart vanished. “Girls, take a look out here.”
The two mares approached the wagon’s flaps and moved them gently aside with their magic. A bright sun shone down on radiant white snow that stretched on either side of a muddy track. Patches of long-dead grass jutted around the edges of the piles in an effort to breathe, even as the trees in the distance shed their loads one bough at a time. Evergreens towered high above while scrub and brush poked their brambly way. The steady churning of water, mud, and slush squelched beneath Hammer Strike’s hooves and flowed through the spokes of the wagon’s wheels in a steady rush.
“Is it supposed to be winter time here?” Celestia asked.
“Based off my estimates, yeah, we’re near the end of winter.” Hammer Strike thought on it for a moment. “Jeez. We’ve been traveling for how long now? Six or seven years?”
“Somewhere around there,” Celestia agreed.
“It’s beautiful,” Luna said. Her eyes sparkled as she watched the snow.
“Careful. It can blind you, if you stare too long,” Celestia warned.
“I’ll be fine,” Luna said.
“We’re close. Probably another few weeks, and we’ll be there,” Hammer Strike commented. “Got any plans after that, Hodios?”
“Not yet.” The Gryphon shook his head.
“Well, there’s a spare room at the house.”
“I suppose I could stay for a while.” Hermes laughed.
“In the end, I leave it to you.”
Hammer Strike frowned as he scanned the town ahead of him. The area was located next to a large hill. Its perimeter was surrounded by a tall stockade that bristled with chevaux de frise in the surrounding land to act as a hindrance to any type of siege weapon. Smoke rose from behind the wall to further soil the dirty sky. The occasional sound of a pickaxe striking earth pinged through the air, while a series of airborne Pegasi soared above the structure to keep an eye out for any unwelcome approach. The gate was firmly shut. The thing that bothered him most was the fact that there appeared to only be Pegasi. There was no sign of Earth Ponies or Unicorns, meaning he’d certainly run into some issues if he sought entry.
“A delightful delay,” Hammer Strike commented with a sigh as he diverted the cart off the road. “Hodios, keep an eye out for me.”
“Already on it.”
Hammer Strike took a long route around the town at a distance that should be decently out of sight. While he normally would scope things out further, they were close to the house, and he could stretch things out to make it.
However, much like most of his plans involving avoiding someone, he was clearly spotted, as evident by movement within his range. Roughly four to five sets of wings flapped together as the specks drew closer. The figure at the front of the formation wore a helmet with a familiar fan through which his mane jutted. Whoever this was definitely had rank.
The group finally settled. Four Pegasi flanked their leader, whose eyes widened in surprise as he gazed at the Pony. His blue fur was contrasted by the streaks of orange, yellow, and black in his mane. He narrowed his gaze as he scrutinized the stallion, then finally spoke, albeit uncertainly. “Hammer Strike?”
Hammer Strike raised a brow as he looked to the leader. After a brief moment he finally realised who it was. “Hurricane? It’s been awhile.”
“What in Sleipnir’s name happened to you?”
Hammer Strike looked down to his hooves for a moment before looking up. “What? It’s just a few additional scars.”
“A few? You look like you just burst out of a tatzlwurm’s jaws! You … didn’t actually do that, right?” By this point, the commander’s escort began exchanging furtive looks.
“Nah.” Hammer Strike waved dismissively. “Though there was a dragon turtle, and a dragon, and Gryphons, and some Minotaurs…” He hummed. “It’s been eventful.”
“It’s only been a year, two at the most!” Hurricane gaped at the Pony. “I know you’ve done some strange things that defy Earth Pony standards before, but that kind of travel?”
Hammer Strike held up a hoof as he detached himself and moved to the back of the cart.
“Sir, what are you doing?” one of his subordinates spoke.
“Soldier, you’re familiar with the reputation of Clover the Clever, yes?” Hurricane asked calmly as he turned to address the soldiers.
“Of course, Sir.” The soldier straightened up.
“And you’re even more familiar with her teacher’s reputation?”
“Yes, Sir.”
He jerked his wing like one would a thumb. “Well that Pony was able to generate magic that those two couldn’t even conceive of, and he was strong enough to brush me aside at full speed without so much as a scratch. He even went so far as to augment my armor and offer shelter after the fact. He is worthy of respect.” He narrowed his eyes dangerously. “And I expect you all to provide it.”
The soldier in question looked dumbfounded at his commander’s claims.
Hammer Strike proceeded to walk around the cart once again with a decent sized scale in his hoof. “Here, have a souvenir,” he commented, passing it over to Hurricane. “Dragon Turtle scale. Interesting thing.”
The thing had to be at least a foot across. Its concave shape made it easy to rest on the Commander’s hoof. “Do you have any idea how much something like this is worth?”
“Yeah, it’s why I collected a sum of them. They’re an interesting material to work with as well. Fire resistant and incredibly durable.”
“And the glowy eyes? You get those from killing the thing, too?”
“Negative.” Hammer Strike shook his head. “It’s an adverse effect from an experiment some time ago.”
“Permanent?”
“Unless I want to go blind, yes.”
“So, what brings you to this part of the new world?”
“I’m actually on the return trip home.” Hammer Strike rubbed the back of his head. “I had to head out for supplies and … other reasons.” He eyed the recruits along with Hurricane.
“So, why approach our operation?”
“I was actually trying to head around it, as evident by the fact that I’m taking a wide circle, rather than the main road.”
“Oh.” Hurricane blinked in surprise. “I’d, uh … offer an escort, but I’m pretty sure you don’t need one.”
“Still, walk with me for a little bit,” Hammer Strike commented as he fastened his harness once again.
“I suppose I can make the time.” Hurricane smirked and turned to address his escort. “All right, soldiers. I’m leaving it to you four to finish the rounds without me and report in. If anyone asks about me, tell them I’m catching up with an old acquaintance. Dismissed!”
Hammer Strike waited until the recruits were out of range before sighing. “Listen, Hurricane. I know you well enough to know you’ll stop by again in the future, so I might as well cover some things now.”
“Articles of negotiation, so to speak?”
“Not really. I just want this dealt with now, rather than later, when you come by.” Hammer Strike sighed. “Girls? Come to the front and introduce yourselves. It’s still cold out, so keep your cloaks on.”
“Girls?”
A few seconds later, two heads poked their way out of the wagon flaps, followed by hooves gently touching down on the ground. Celestia’s pink mane rested elegantly against her neck and head as she peered curiously at the commander. Luna was more wide-eyed as she gazed on the armor and weapon the Pegasus carried.
“Greetings,” Celestia said as she bowed her head. “I am Celestia, and this is my younger sister Luna.”
“Foundlings?” Hurricane guessed.
“My daughters.”
Hurricane raised a suspicious brow. “I never noticed them when you housed us before.”
“They’re the reason I went on this journey.” Hammer Strike sighed. “Yes, I was alone in that house, but it was never meant to be the end result. Also, don’t ask.”
“About what?”
“Exactly what you’re thinking about.”
“And you know what I’m thinking about is what you’re thinking I’m thinking … how?”
“Just leave it as a, ‘I know you too well by this point.’”
Hurricane shrugged. “All right. So, have you tested them yet?”
“Tested...?”
“For their magic levels and potential. That’s a thing most Unicorns do, from what Clover told us.”
“Yes, and no. Not in recent times.”
Hurricane nodded. “Very well.” Then he turned his attention back to the mares. “So, you two are going to be staying with your father for the foreseeable future?”
“YUP!” Luna smiled brightly.
“An exuberant child.” Hurricane laughed. “You must be quite the hooful.”
Celestia laughed. “Only when she gets excited.”
“And what do you find exciting, little one?” Hurricane asked Luna.
“Daddy says we’re going to have a big house with our own rooms.”
Hurricane smiled. “Yes, I’ve been to that house. There will be a great deal of space to explore, with daring adventures waiting to be had.”
Luna beamed up at him and grinned.
“It’s still a few months off, but we should be there in record timing if I don’t run into any more … unknown situations,” Hammer Strike commented.
“Well, I’d recommend watching out for Unicorn patrols, then. Things have gotten a little better, but they’re still stubborn about extracting a tribute out of anyone who crosses their path.”
“Honestly, I figured the same would happen here.”
“Puddinghead showed us a few tricks of the trade as an act of good faith. We may not be so productive as your tribe, but we’ve managed to grow some crops of our own.”
“That’s good to hear.” Hammer Strike gave a grin. “As much as I would love to continue this, I’m pretty sure you’re wandering way out by this point,” he finished, looking behind the cart.
Hurricane nodded. “It is about that time. I’ll try to visit at a later date.”
“I’ll keep that in mind, perhaps make another guest bedroom.”
“Until then, Hammer Strike.” The Pegasus offered a salute. “May Faust grant you a swift trip and open skies.”
Hammer Strike hummed aloud as he started to recognise the area around him, that combined with the ever familiar orbs of solar energy that he made was slightly obvious. He frowned to himself as he found a stable section of land to settle the cart on. “Hodios, you mind looking after things for a little bit? I need to check something out before we proceed.”
“Sure,” Hermes answered, still taking the area in. He examined a sphere curiously.
Hammer Strike detached himself from the cart before setting off in the direction of his house. It didn’t take long for the memories of the land to come back to him, filling in gaps for where he was heading.
Then he crossed the threshold of trees and before him stood a large log cabin. Beside it was a shack, a path to a nearby hill, and a small plot on the side dedicated to produce. He couldn’t help but smile as he looked over the land once again.
His smile turned to a frown, however, as he noted several tracks in the snow around him. From the looks of it, there was a Gryphon and roughly five to six Ponies, based off the number of prints. He wanted to ensure he was absolutely clear to enter the house again, so he followed the trail with some delay.
In the end, he looked up to find a strange sight in the distance. It was himself, alongside VItal, Pensword, Derpy, Grif, the Doctor, and Rarity. His frown deepened as he looked out to the group, watching as the Doctor opened the Tardis doors and allowed them all inside.
A pang of longing stabbed at him at the sight. It wasn’t time, however, and it would be some lengths before he could see his friends again. He sighed to himself as he moved back to the cart. Hermes stood watch over it and gave a brief wave as Hammer Strike came close.
“All right; we’re clear to go,” Hammer Strike commented as he strapped himself to the cart once again. “You can come out of the cart as well, girls. And you can leave the cloaks inside. There’s nothing else out here that can bother us.”
Luna jumped out of the cart and giggled as she moved to the snow.
“At this rate, she’s going to be like this every winter for the rest of her life,” Celestia said as she stepped down and threw off her cloak to stretch her wings. She smiled fondly at the young Alicorn. “Though that may not be such a bad thing.”
Hammer Strike smiled as he began pulling the cart. “Follow close by. We’re almost there.”
“I can’t wait to see what your home is like, Hammer Strike. The garden must be beautiful.”
“Sadly, this land has been through a lengthy winter, so it’s going to be some time before that’s recovered.”
“Will we have enough to survive until then?”
“Definitely. There’s also a small stockpile that was put on the side for emergencies. That, and we also have our own stock as well.”
“So, we wait for the thaw, and then move forward from there?”
“If push comes to shove, I have a few tricks up my sleeve,” Hammer Strike replied, eyeing the orbs of light around them.
“Well then, I guess this is where I ask how I can help.”
“Since you were so fond of the greenhouse, perhaps I’ll set up one here. Give you some flower breeds to grow. We’ll see.”
“Putting the skills my mother taught me to good use?” She smiled. “I suppose that’s only fair.” Then she chuckled. “Though I’m still at a loss for what we’re going to do with Luna when she finally gets bored.”
“I’ve got plans. Don’t you worry.”
“Well, in the meantime, I suppose there’s only one thing left to do.”
“And what’s that?”
Celestia smirked as her horn lit up and several spheres wreathed in magic rose from the ground and compacted, then began to orbit her. “Snowball fight.”
“So, he came back to the same place just in time to see his past self entering the TARDIS to travel to our time. I can see why the Doctor was so worried about a paradox,” Vital said.
“Time doesn’t work that way,” Grif said.
“Having two incarnations of the Doctor in the same place in time is one thing, but I’m pretty sure time might take issue with two Hammer Strikes meeting one another. Or am I wrong there, Doctor? If so, why did you make such a big deal about it when we picked Hammer Strike up before?”
“You subscribe to that whole ‘go back in time, kill a fly, and flies are ruling the world’ garbage?” Grif asked.
“No, just that there are usually consequences to such things unless carefully monitored,” Vital noted.
“Hammer Strike was meant to reach that area at that time. The fact that he did so means it would happen. Everything’s not going to melt down because, for instance, he occupied the same time as himself,” Grif said.
“I was referring to interacting with himself, but I concede your point. If time didn’t want it to happen, it wouldn’t have, or rather The Doctor would have had a massive headache trying to iron it all out again.”
“Could we focus on more important matters, boys?” Rarity asked. “Like the fact my Strikey Wikey is safe and sound at last, and he’s in a place he knows he can protect?”
“Safe’s a matter of opinion at this point in time,” Grif said. “If it were anyone else, I’d say safe was the last thing they were.”
“He does still have a ways to go, doesn’t he?” Vital agreed. “Another almost two thousand years, right?”
“So it seems,” the Doctor said. “Unusual, though, for time to just become fixed.”
“Has it happened before?”
“Not to my knowledge.” The Doctor shook his head.
“So why say unusual if it’s a first time occurrence?”
“It may not be,” The Doctor admitted. “I haven’t seen everything.”
“Have you considered asking her to check?” He jerked his head toward the console.
“She’s been … dodgy about the whole situation.”
“Is that so?” Vital looked suspiciously at the console. “Interesting….”
“What is?”
“The dodginess.” Vital shrugged. “It could be nothing. I just find it curious, given her previous behavior when it comes to Hammer Strike.”
“Hmmm…” the Doctor rubbed his chin as he considered the statement. Twilight soon followed suit, but resisted the urge to pick up any tools. She wasn’t about to risk angering the TARDIS a second time.
“Welcome to our new home.” Hammer Strike smiled as he held a hoof out toward the log cabin. “Not as luxurious as the old one, but it’s still good, in my opinion.”
A very wet and shivering Celestia chattered and nodded as she took in the structure. “As long as it’s warm, I’ll be happy,” she said through the trembling.
Luna was equally wet, but seemed immune to the temperature. She stuck her tongue out at her sister. “I like it!”
“It’s a house.” Hermes shrugged.
“Well, go on in. I’ll unload the cart. Pick a room that isn’t marked as mine.”
It didn’t take them long to get settled. The rooms’ former occupants had each been fastidious. The trio easily unpacked their belongings and met a short time later in the living room, where a warm fire was already cracking. Celestia practically threw herself onto the floor by it.
“Heat. Sweet, sweet heat,” she said as a blissful smile passed over her face.
Hammer Strike walked into the house and glanced over to Celestia. “Hope you get used to it. This happens every year.”
“I just didn’t expect the cold to bite so hard after Luna soaked me; that’s all,” Celestia said.
Hammer Strike simply chuckled as he continued farther into the house.
“It’s not that cold,” Luna said.
“You weren’t shoved under a pile of snow up to your neck.”
“I’m half your size. Most piles of snow come up to my neck!” Luna argued.
“Your point? I didn’t douse you in it, did I?”
“Not my fault you couldn’t.”
“You say that as if I hadn’t already thought of it.” Celestia smirked. “You’re not the only strategist in the room. I just decided not to employ it.”
Hammer Strike couldn’t help but smile as he listened to the conversation before turning toward the room Hermes had picked for himself. “Everything fine enough for you?”
“Yes. It’s fine.” Hermes nodded.
“We’ll look into getting some stuff to make it feel like home to everyone sometime soon.”
“So, what's the immediate plan?”
“Get situated, crops going, materials put away, and deal with the neighbors.”
“Neighbors?”
“To put it simply, we’re quite literally surrounded by the three ‘nations’ of Ponies. Albeit, we’re in between all three of them and in a sort of blind spot.”
“Oh, fun,” Hermes said with a deadpan expression.
“Always is.” Hammer Strike chuckled. “Always is,” he repeated as he made his way toward his own room.
Extended Holiday Chapter 167: Tree of Harmony, Seeds of Unity
Hammer Strike wiped at his forehead as he looked to his work. Since he needed the extra security, he was expanding the basement levels beyond the safe room he made for the trio of kitsunes. He had gone so far as to reinforce the stone to ensure even the dwarves would struggle breaking through it.
Within the new chambers, he had remade the safe room into a larger size with plenty more room for storage. He also added a few additional bed frames, just in case of guests or others who would need protecting..
Below that chamber was a series of new rooms, one of which being a storage area for all his tools and materials from the Alicorn Empire. While he could just place them within his forge, he knew that it raised too many safety risks. While the room was secure, it was also located just below the house and vented properly, which meant it was open to infiltration.
Near that was a large dome-like room containing several orbs of sunlight that he had recreated. He frowned as he made sure there was a sufficient amount of room for what he needed. When he was certain, he reached into his coat and pulled out a small vial containing a crystal acorn. He frowned as he popped it open and released the acorn into his hoof.
“It’ll take time, but things should work out down here,” he muttered to himself as he moved toward the center of the room, where a spot had been carefully prepared specifically for the seed that would eventually grow into Harmony.
He sighed as he ensured the soil was hydrated and packed everything correctly. As he finished up, he gave a soft smile before exiting the room. Then he returned to the house above.
Celestia beamed as she peeked into Luna’s new room. “Oh, sister, guess what time it is,” she sang.
“Not yet,” Luna moaned and pulled the covers over her head.
“Come on, Lulu,” Celestia coaxed as she strode into the room. A black tablet hovered in her magical grasp. “We’ve put this off for long enough.”
“But it’s boring,” Luna moaned.
“It’s also necessary. Did you ever hear Hammer Strike complain about when he studied?” She drew closer to the bed.
Luna’s eyes peeked out from under the covers. “When did he study?”
“All the time. He couldn’t leave the house much, and he wanted to learn all he could about us. Mother gave him access to the family library, so he could study about our culture and history between our playdates.”
“... Fine,” Luna huffed as she squirmed to lay her back against the headboard and patted the extra space on the mattress.
Celestia giggled and ascended the platform gracefully. “Why, thank you.” She gave a miniature bow, including a wing to accentuate the motion, before settling in and placing the tablet between the two of them. “Now what would you like to focus on first?”
Luna sighed. “We both know you already decided that.”
“Yes, but I thought we could start with something you might like to study first. Call it a gift. Or a freebie, I suppose.” She smiled dotingly at the young mare. “Unless, of course, you want me to go forward with what I had in mind….”
“War,” Luna said immediately.
Celestia sighed. “Very well. But we’re not going into detail. I don’t care if you’ve seen blood already. I won’t expose you to any more violence than you have to until you’re older.” She laid the tablet flat on the bed with its screen facing the ceiling. A holographic projection emerged from it, displaying a mighty stallion with six legs, a flowing mane, and a bearing that spoke of combat and challenge. “Let’s begin with the beginning, then. In the time before we walked the world, it is said that Sleipnir and Bonnie helped Faust in her creations. In one such attempt, Sleipnir contributed a single hair from his mane….”
The two remained embroiled in the throws of history and tactics until Luna’s stomach loudly proclaimed its demands for sustenance. Celestia’s own stomach soon followed.
“Girls? Did either of you want lunch, or did you want to wait for dinner?” Hammer Strike called.
“Lunch, please!” Luna shouted as she charged from the room.
Celestia sighed. “I half expected to hear her crying ‘freedom,’ at the top of her lungs.” She chuckled as she dismounted and followed her sister. “I would love some as well. What are we having?”
“Well, we’ve got a few options.” Hammer Strike looked over his ingredients. “We can do sandwiches, salad, or some fruit from our latest harvest.”
“Hmm. I think I’ll have a salad this time,” Celestia said. “How about you, Luna?”
“Sandwiches!”
“I guess I can manage both of those.” He gave a small smirk. “Hermes! You want anything for lunch while I’m at it?”
“I’m fine, thank you,” he responded.
“Suit yourself.” Hammer Strike shrugged as he turned toward the kitchen. “Salad and sandwich, coming up.”
Hammer Strike frowned as he noted a strange flux of magic in his environment. That meant either some magical creature was passing through his territory or it was a Pony with a decent amount of magic to them.
He looked out his window to see if he could notice whatever it was, only to find a familiar blue mare in the distance walking towards his house. He frowned as he tried to figure out why she would be coming here of all places. And alone at that.
The mare had already dealt with the Wendigo issue. She should have been back with the others in the Unicorn kingdom by this point.
Then again, she did express some lack of respect toward the current ruler. Yet, at the same time, she was Star Swirl’s apprentice, and he was unsure if she would be cleared for a solo expedition.
Unless he was farther out. Perhaps a group camp in the distance? Though the probability of that was exceptionally low, according to his augments.
He would have his answer soon enough. He waited for her to come up to the door and knock before finally moving. He opened the door and looked to his uninvited guest with a raised brow. “Hello, Clover. It’s certainly been a while.”
“Teach me,” the mare responded.
Hammer Strike blinked a few times. “Pardon?”
“Your magic. Teach it to me.”
“I think I’m leaning toward a negative.”
“I’ve gone through everything I could find.” Clover pointed in the direction of one of the orbs. “That's not possible.”
“And neither is an Earth Pony casting magic,” Hammer Strike replied simply as he opened the door for Clover to enter. “Since I know you’re stubborn, come in. We’re letting in the cold.”
“Why won’t you teach me?” Clover demanded as she entered. The mare was like a timberwolf with a tree root.
“Because I find you lacking. Is that what you want to hear?” Hammer Strike leaned down as he closed the door.
Clover was struck dumb by this. Her mouth moved up and down, but no words coame out.
“I can see your potential. Don’t get me wrong. But right now, you come to me as a child, demanding arts which I have protected for hundreds of years. You demand from me, my arts, with naught a thing to show me for it.” He led her calmly to the living room.
“What do you want, then?” she asked.
“If it were that simple, I wouldn’t be here.” Hammer Strike chuckled. “Give me a reason. Why should I teach you? What possibly could make you so worthy of learning?”
“Because I’ve studied magic my whole life. I know more spells than almost any other Unicorn alive!”
“Then why can’t you figure out mine?”
“Because they break the rules!” she practically shouted.
“Then clearly, those rules are incorrect,” Hammer Strike replied simply. “If there is such a rule in place that dictates something as impossible, but a fact lies in front of you as it being possible, wouldn’t that in turn show you the false nature of said rule?”
“I’m not leaving until I learn those spells!” she growled.
“Then I hope you find this couch comfortable, because you have a long way to go until I even think about teaching you the basics.”
“Do I … need to get some blankets?” a voice asked from the doorway. Celestia’s mane draped gracefully across her shoulders as she stepped into the room.
“It certainly looks that way,” Hammer Strike replied.
Clover's eyes widened as she saw the mare.
“Clover, this is Celestia, my daughter. Celestia, this is Clover, a powerful Unicorn from the Unicorn Kingdom. She also beat a windigo. Or a few.”
“Your daughter is an Alicorn?” Clover gaped in disbelief.
“Is that really so unusual, after all you’ve seen from my father?” Celestia countered.
“But no one’s seen an Alicorn in a hundred years!” Clover said.
“I mean, most of them died out eight years ago.” Hammer Strike shrugged.
“And … you’re fortunate you haven’t. They … weren’t very friendly.” Celestia’s complexion darkened as her ears drooped.
“Celestia, would you be a dear and make some tea?”
Celestia nodded slowly. “Was there any blend you wanted?”
Hammer Strike smiled gently. “Surprise me.”
She trotted meekly from the room en route to the kitchen and left the pair alone.
Hammer Strike’s voice was perfectly level and very quiet when next he spoke. “You’ll get this warning once, Clover, since I like you. Don’t pry into the Alicorns or bother my daughters for information on anything involving them without my express permission. Am I understood?” Hammer Strike’s expression remained calm, but the glow of his eyes had reached intense levels.
“...Fine,” Clover huffed.
Hammer Strike squinted at the response before sighing. “Is this the only reason you came out here?”
“As far as you know.”
“Then you can go home.” Hammer Strike shrugged. “I’ve already got three additional mouths to feed who at least help out. And honestly, I don’t need a freeloader sitting around.”
“I can help,” she insisted. “I can teach!”
“Says the apprentice,” Hammer Strike replied flatly.
“How much do you know about the three tribes and their current conditions? National borders? Laws? Trade?”
“I’ve got borders down. Geography isn’t difficult. As for their conditions…” He frowned. “Only the pegasi.” He sighed. “Ex Divinia etiam.”
“What about your daughters? Sooner or later, they’re going to need to interact with the outside world without your help.”
Hammer Strike growled for a moment before he sighed and ceded the point. “All right, you can stay. If you teach them.”
“I will,” Clover assured him.
He sighed once again. “I’ll work on a new guest bedroom tomorrow….”
“You won’t regret it.”
Hammer Strike looked flatly at her before tapping his hoof against the chair. The fire in the fireplace proceeded to grow as he warmed the room more. He sincerely hoped she was right. He really didn’t need any more headaches right now.
Hammer Strike frowned as he ensured the soil around Harmony’s sapling was properly hydrated. It had taken some time, but the strangely crystalline flora was starting to grow and gain strength. He hummed to himself as he looked around the cave once again and ensured the solar orbs were working properly, followed by double checking the dimensions of the artificial cave to ensure there was plenty of room above to grow into.
After a few minutes he nodded to himself and placed his tools within a small container nearby. He wasn’t sure how long it would take Harmony to really stand in the world again, but he had plenty of time to look after her and make sure of it.
Unlike most flora, there didn’t appear to be so much as a hint of soft tissue. It grew more like a geode or other such rock formation after it had broken free of the soil around it some months ago. However, it was still on the lower end of its development. He brushed a hoof against it to ensure things were stable, and a small wave of energy entered his hoof.
“Hello.” It wasn’t exactly a voice per se, more like an absent thought.
Hammer Strike blinked in surprise. “You’re finally conscious?”
“I am always conscious. I have to be to deal with my brother.”
“Yes, but you typically don’t reside in a physical form,” Hammer Strike replied with a frown. “You’re at least starting to regain some strength.”
“I admit this concept of having a physical form is … troublesome. I have power, yet … I cannot seem to use it so easily as I used to.”
“It’ll take time for you to recover, but at least you’re growing.”
“Growth. A concept I am familiar with, yet something I have never experienced before. I am … curious to see how my growth will be affected.”
“If you maintain this speed, and you end up much like a standard tree, it’ll be quite some time before you’re fully there. Some take hundreds of years, so we’ll see.”
“I suppose it’s better than lying dormant while my brother has his way. The trauma of our coming into the physical plane may have affected his mind.”
“I’m sorry to say, but I believe it to be true. I haven’t heard of any signs of him as of yet, but….”
“How long have I been dormant? I remember you, watching you arrive at the island, the balance you were able to achieve with your friend’s assistance, and the discord struck with his loss. We were watching you, since you are an anomaly. Father didn’t approve of what had been done to you, but we couldn’t send you back either. I … remember a mare, a garden, and then….”
“Then you were forced from the ethereal part of being an embodiment.” Hammer Strike sighed. “A little acorn is what you became..”
“An … acorn. Then it’s only logical to conclude that I will have to rely on the mana flows within the planet for sustenance, at least at first. Did you deliver me from the Alicorns?”
“Yes. I’ve even been looking after you since then. It’s been, if I recall correctly, roughly ten years since you were brought to the physical realm.”
“Ten years. Time feels … different to me like this. Everything seems to move so … quickly. Or is it that my mind wants to sleep?” she mused.
“I … am unsure. Sorry, but I don’t fully know what happens to embodiments in situations like this.”
“Trees are often a symbol of me. They follow a strict life cycle, and they rarely deviate from it unless outside forces drive them to it. Their systems exist in a delicate balance to maintain the greater ecosystem of the planet, which are also balanced. I suppose the best description would be a series of links tied to one another to increase their strength and maintain the world without strangling it. I’ll admit my brother helps in that regard, annoying though he may be.”
“It’s all a balance,” Hammer Strike simplified it. “One can’t fully exist without the other.”
“Exactly. I just hope my brother remembers that fact.”
“I have my doubts, I’m sorry to say.”
“I must admit, I am not certain how I will be able to interact with the world like this. At most, my power will be localized, even when I’m fully grown. After all, I can’t exactly travel like this.”
“I’m sure we’ll figure something out when you gain some strength. Until then, I’m sorry to say, but you’ve got a lot of rest ahead of you.” Hammer Strike gave a soft smile.
Hammer Strike could almost hear the smile behind the next words. “I’m Harmony, Hammer Strike. Patience is an integral part of my nature.”
“Yes, but you never did it in the physical world.” Hammer Strike chuckled as he stood and turned toward the door. “I’ll be back. Got work up top for today that I need to attend to.”
“Be well, Hammer Strike.”
Hammer Strike stretched his neck after securing a few logs to his cart. He needed more materials. And thankfully, the addition of his cart made moving them easier. Normally, he would have had to collect at most a few trees and drag them over to his house. While that wasn’t a difficult process, it was tedious going back and forth. The cart, however, allowed him to move more at a time, giving him less trips to worry about.
True to Clover’s word, she actually did stick around. While he was joking about her staying, it turned out she was very much serious, resulting in Hammer Strike having to expand the house and create a new bedroom. While it probably would have been nicer to create a new house for her to seperate things, he was unsure of how long she would actually be staying for.
His work however, would have to wait. One of his proximity sensors had just gone off near him. Based on the reading, it was probably Ponies of some kind. He didn’t bother strapping himself to the cart, and instead chose to turn in the general direction of where they would be coming from.
Two Pegasi emerged not more than a few minutes later. Neither had a banner or more than leather armor, surprisingly enough. This was vastly different than most Pegasi he’d met from this time. They approached him slowly, seemingly attempting to remain non-threatening.
Slightly ahead was a larger blue stallion with a teal mane and a beefy build. He carried a hatchet on his back and gave a poor attempt at a calm smile as he approached.
“Wo there!”
Hammer Strike raised a brow at the group. “What brings you to these lands?”
“First off, we aren't here to fight,” he said. “We have nothing against you for your tribe, and want nothing to do with any of the inter-tribal conflicts,” he said somewhat clumsily, trying to speak his thoughts.
The second Pony was scrawnier, with a red coat and a darker red mane. Her eyes were a rich green. “We just … were wondering if you’d mind us being nearby. Most of the other Ponies acknowledge this stretch of land is yours, so we know they’re not about to come here and give you grief, and we’d be able to forage and live for ourselves in the meantime, instead of having to fight.”
Hammer Strike hummed as he looked over the group. “So, you left due to not wanting to further play a part in the conflict?”
“In a tribe like ours, honor, service, and combat are about all that matters. We’re all for honor and service, but we don’t want to kill people who never hurt us. It just … doesn’t feel right.”
Hammer Strike looked over them a few times. One of the augments added to his eyes was a medical scanner of sorts; however it could also be used as a simple lie detector. He frowned as he ensured the veracity of their story by registering their heart rates. “You can make camp in these lands,” he finally said. “But if you wish for further aid, you will need to supply something in return.”
“We can work,” the stallion promised.
Hammer Strike hummed before sighing. “Find yourself a section of land first and we’ll talk more on it later.” He moved toward his cart and strapped himself into the harness.
The mare gaped, then looked to her partner. “Sleipnir’s beard, it worked!”
He laughed. “I think you probably should hold expressions like that until we’re out of ear shot.”
She glowered at her partner. “Come on, you know I didn’t mean it like that.”
“We need to tell the others,” he said. “They’ll be worried.”
Hammer Strike stopped. “How many of you are there?”
“There are five of us in total,” the stallion said.
Hammer Strike hummed to himself for a moment. “Yeah, that should be fine.” He shrugged to himself as he started to move his cart toward home. The two new residents were swift to return the way they’d come and alert their fellows of the successful negotiations. By the next morning, a camp would be set up in a clearing just far enough away to be unobtrusive while still within range of their host.
Hammer Strike sighed to himself as he sorted through his list of supplies. While he was able to gather most materials in his immediate area, there were certain items he would eventually need, and he knew for a fact they weren’t nearby. Seeds, for example. Right now, everyone was subsisting off the same series of fruits and vegetables. And while he was very creative in how to add variety in preparation, it wasn’t exactly a full healthy diet. Other crops for materials would also prove useful to him, such as cotton.
Another issue was the lack of particular ores in the area. He was lacking some of the more useful metals. While he could make do with what he had on hoof, if he wanted to progress things farther and stockpile parts for repairs, he would need to arrange trade for other resources. Copper, for example, was relatively uncommon on his land. Hunting it down in his mines proved to be a pain at times.
While he didn’t like the idea, he would need to pack his cart and travel to one of the nearby settlements to trade for it. Given what he needed, he would be heading into Earth Pony territory, which would at least make things easier for him.
Considering the horrible winter that had been plaguing the land for years, he put a wager on the lack of food and goods that these settlements had. And considering his methods of dealing with crops thaumically meant he could work in any season, at any temperature, and indefinitely, it meant he had a good stockpile on the side of crops that he could trade with.
However, he couldn’t leave his land unattended, so he couldn’t bring Celestia and Luna. While leaving Hermes would work for a time, he would be a Gryphon surrounded by Ponies. He sighed to himself once again as he tapped a hoof in thought. His thoughts, however, were interrupted as the front door opened, revealing Celestia and Luna followed by Clover.
“Hello, Father.” Celestia smiled as the trio wiped their hooves by the door. “Luna and I were just showing Clover the garden.”
“Is that so?” Hammer Strike gave a small smile.
“It’s very interesting.” Clover nodded. “Have you thought about contracting hobgoblins?”
“Not really native to this area,” Hammer Strike replied. “I take it you recommend the option?”
“As long as they’re treated well, they do make great gardeners.”
Hammer Strike hummed in response. “I’ll have to keep that in mind. Though, since you’re here, I do actually have something I need to discuss with you and Hodios.”
“Oh? What is it?”
“I need to go to a nearby town for some trade, and I need someone to look after this place while I’m gone.”
“You’re trusting me with that?”
“And Hodios,” Hammer Strike added. “I can’t leave this place unattended, and as much as I want to bring others, I need to head to an Earth Pony settlement.”
Clover shrugged. “Okay. Are there any special instructions I should know?”
“Don’t burn down the house.”
“I’ve never burnt a house down.”
“Admittedly, I slightly doubt that.” Hammer Strike hummed. “Or at least, something of similar equivalence in terms of what you had done to a house.”
Clover rolled her eyes.
“Don’t hear you denying that one.” Hammer Strike smirked. “I’ll cover things with Hodios later today, but I should be good to set off tomorrow morning. Trip should roughly take a week.”
“A week?” Luna moaned.
“It’s not that bad,” Celestia chided.
“I’ll be stuck with two eggheads and nothing but lessons all day, every day.” Luna moaned dramatically and grabbed Hammer Strike's leg. “Please! I’ll die!”
Hammer Strike chuckled. “I can’t let you get out of studying that easily.”
“Besides, you know I’m not that boring,” Celestia noted.
“Yes, you are.” Luna stuck out her tongue. She wrapped the Earth Pony in a hug. “Hurry back, Daddy.”
Hammer Strike chuckled and patted her head. “I’ll see to it.”
Hammer Strike hummed to himself as he pulled his cart. He was heading farther west into Earth Pony territory. The tribe would be more likely to trade with him, since he also technically identified as an Earth Pony. So long as he didn’t have to deal with any thieves or other problems, things would likely go smoothly. He had left early the previous morning, meaning he would be soon to arrive at the settlement.
During the course of his travels, he had passed several groups on the way to different locations, and not many paid him any mind, though he would occasionally catch one looking him over a few times, as though they were confirming something.
What did catch him off guard, however, was the variety of individuals out and about. He found an assortment of all races traveling the roads, even some that he thought would have remained farther out, such as a Gryphon or two.
It wasn’t until the sun reached the horizon that he realized night was approaching. He frowned to himself. While he would normally continue traveling, there were some creatures that resided in the night that would require extra attention in tracking. And moving while scanning led to some minor discrepancies.
What he did notice, however, was a small camp in the works farther ahead near the road. Three individuals worked in rapid succession as they established their temporary claim. A stalwart Earth Pony with a shock of slate hair for a mane peered intently at Hammer Strike as he approached. His leather armor was worn, and carried many scuffs from various encounters.
A pegasus crouched behind him, with a short blade curled in her sleeved wing. Her clothing was tight, light, and functional, with a series of hidden pockets and sheaths for various weapons and equipment. Two sleeves stretched from her shoulders to her forehooves, while a vest clung to her barrel. Her long mane was tied back in an elegant purple ponytail modeled after Neighponese style. Rather than the typical horseshoes, her hooves were garbed in thin padded socks that muffled her steps. A metal guard around her neck protected her vitals from potential attackers’ projectiles.
The third companion peered intently from his place by the firepit. His fur was an exceptionally light tan with a dark blue mane. A pair of round glasses sat lower on the bridge of his nose as he turned to face the stranger. His white cloak twirled aside, briefly exposing the saddlebags that hung on either side of his flanks. He pushed the glasses back up his nose, just enough for the light to reflect on the lenses and conceal his eyes.
Hammer Strike hummed as he looked over the trio before stopping his cart nearby. “Not often that ponies camp out in this area,” he started.
“It’s not often that an Earth Pony comes to inquire after a trio of armed strangers either,” the Unicorn noted.
“You’re near the main road, and it’s beginning to grow dark.” Hammer Strike shrugged. “If you were going to use those weapons against me, you wouldn’t have been in the open.”
“We don’t want any trouble,” the big Earth Pony said. “We’re just hiding out here until things blow over.”
“Hiding out?” Hammer Strike raised a brow.
“Quiet!” the Pegasus snapped at the Earth Pony.
“I doubt you’re out here for anything that I need to worry about.” Hammer Strike shrugged. “Mind if I station myself close for the night? There are too many creatures in this area for me to properly track while I move.”
The Earth Pony and mare both looked to the Unicorn, who sighed and shrugged in turn. “Why not?”
Hammer Strike gave a brief chuckle as he settled his cart off the road and unharnessed himself. After a moment, he rejoined the trio by the fire. “If you don’t mind me asking, why settle out here? While the nearby settlement might give two of you some looks, it was mostly neutral, last I checked.”
“We each have our reasons,” the Unicorn said simply.
“Outlaws, I take it?” Hammer Strike chuckled. “But that’s life in a series of nations like this.”
“Given the alternatives they offer, there are many who choose that life.”
“But none of you do, then? It’s a fair choice, if you can manage it.”
“We’re more outcast than outlaw,” the Earth Pony noted.
“Either case results in you all being out here.” Hammer Strike shook his head. “Got a destination in mind?”
“Somewhere safe.” The Earth Pony shrugged.
“The abdication of the windigos leaves a wide avenue of possibilities,” the Unicorn noted.
“I know a place that’s outside of the current trio of nations not too far off from here. My own land, to be precise, but I’d prefer to hear what happened before I even suggest it.” Hammer Strike raised an inquiring brow.
The three looked at each other. “What do you two think?” the Unicorn asked.
The Earth Pony in armor shrugged. “If it’s safe, then it definitely sounds like a good deal.”
The Unicorn rubbed his chin. “And you can guarantee no one will come after us?”
“It’s my land,” Hammer Strike replied simply. “If they have a problem, it comes to me. As I stated, however, I won’t lead you without that bit of information.”
The Unicorn stared pensively at the ground for a time as he mulled the offer over. “Very well,” he finally said. “It seems like the best option we have at the moment. Go ahead, Wall. We might as well start with you.”
“And just in case any of you feel so inclined, I will know whether you are lying or not.”
The Earth Pony shrugged. “Fine with me. Name’s Towering Wall. I used to be a farm hand in a small village. Always dreamed of being a knight, but you have to be a Unicorn. A few years ago, Binding Strategy,” he motioned to the Unicorn, “was sent to my village to do a report on the available food, which, given the harsh winter, there wasn’t much. I ended up leaving with him. Been following him ever since. I supported him amongst my tribe when certain things happened. Now I’m kind of unwelcome anywhere.”
Hammer Strike nodded. “Sounds about right.”
The mare spoke up next. “I was raised in a small pegasus town near the south of the territory by an ex-campaigner specializing in espionage and—”
“I said the truth,” Hammer Strike cut in. “Not an act. I can see right through you.”
“Can I talk to you in private after, then?” Her tone was stressed. As she spoke, Hammer Strike finally noticed something that was definitely not a Pegasus trait.
She had canines.
“I’ll accept those terms.”
“And now you want my story.” The Unicorn sighed. “To some, I am known as a villain, though my crime laid only in seeking to better the lives of Ponies. I used to work with some of the most prominent guilds in the kingdom. A Pony’s tribe doesn’t matter there, only their skill and cunning. If you know anything about Unicorn society, you’ll know that even Unicorns are abused. Nobles treat common Unicorns like dirt. It was my hope to change that with an alliance of guilds in the three tribal lands.
“The nobles have no real forces to speak of that can really fight. They rely so heavily on guilds that a proper alliance could lead to real change in the social structure of the kingdoms. With that goal in mind, I called the guild leaders together in a council to discuss the benefits of such a union. To ensure a proper and equal show of solidarity, and to prevent any of the leaders from betraying or abusing the other guilds, I drew up a piece of magic that few Ponies have ever been able to master. It happens to be among one of my greater skills. In the spirit of full disclosure and honesty, that skill is the gift of composing magically binding contracts. I believe you can guess how the nobles reacted to that fact when they learned what I could do.”
Hammer Strike hummed as he looked over Binding Strategy. “They wanted to be rid of you. The fact that you live means either they didn’t evaluate you as a full threat or you fled from their blades.”
Thaumically scanning Binding revealed a series of uncommon energies for a Unicorn, one of which was almost terrifying in nature. He contained the basest part of the primal, meaning it was a divine seed. Hammer Strike looked up to Binding once more before sighing. “It certainly explains why you three are out here.”
“Well,“ Wall chuckled. “I don’t mean to brag, but I am kind of really strong.”
“Armor is scuffed as well.” Hammer Strike frowned. “Could use some good plate armor….”
“Not allowed plate armor. Only for knights. And as I said before, only Unicorns get to be knights.” He sighed.
“Doesn’t bother me any. Perhaps I’ll look into some things.” Hammer Strike hummed. “I’ll tell you what, Binding. Let’s make a little deal. I’ll grant you somewhere in my land to station all three of you, but in return, I’ve got to make sure of a few things.”
“What sort of things?”
“I can’t risk having things go south on my end, and in turn, I’ve got to make sure things are on fair grounds. To put it simply, you are unable to work against me, whether by spreading knowledge of my craft, my trade, or my skills, or actively trying to fight me. In turn, I will consider you three a part of my house. Should anyone come for you, they will deal with me personally. And should they go behind my back, it will be their mistake.” Hammer Strike held out a hoof to Binding Strategy. “Food, shelter, and security.”
“And if something were to go wrong? We’ve had mad rulers in history before.”
“Should something go wrong, and any of us go against our ways as of this moment, the contract will fall null,” Hammer Strike replied as his hoof suddenly ignited with thaumic energy. “I have enough faith in your morals that I am willing to bet on it.”
“That sounds acceptable.” Binding pushed his glasses up his nose, and they flashed again. Then he touched his hoof to Hammer Strike’s.
Unseen to everyone, Thaumic energy spread from Hammer Strike’s hoof and fully encased Binding. Hammer Strike gave a nod. “I trust you to keep an eye on your companions.” He smiled.
Binding smirked. “As if I could do anything but.”
“Sadly, I can’t lead you there just yet,” Hammer Strike commented. “I’ve got to make some trades in the nearby settlement for some seeds and ore.”
“We can wait. Or if you prefer, we can make our way toward your land in advance. Most Ponies have enough sense to just travel around it.”
“Stick with me. I want to gauge the three of you.”
“Oh? In what way?”
“Abilities and such.”
“And you would prefer to do that in a place where we could be observed?”
“I never said that, did I?” Hammer Strike gave a faint smirk. “You’ll figure it out later.” He turned toward the remaining member of the group. “Come on. We can speak a little away from the main road and fire.”
The Pegasus nodded and followed as they strode away from the campsite.
Once they reached a decent distance from the camp, Hammer Strike scanned their environment before nodding. “All right, we’re away from prying ears.”
The mare nodded. “Well, for starters I don’t come from the south. I—”
“I already gathered that you’re a Thestral from one of the nearby dwellings, or at least part Thestral,” Hammer Strike commented.
She stopped dead, her eyes shrinking to slits in shock. “Bu-but how?”
Hammer Strike opened his mouth and pointed to his own canines. “While subtle and easily missed, I try not to overlook things.”
“I suppose I should have realized someone would pick up on it.” She sighed. “My name is Swift Wings. I really was raised by a former campaigner. I was found by him in the woods when I was too young to remember. He taught me how to sneak and fight and other such skills, and he usually trimmed the tufts of my ears and used enchanted glasses to keep my eyes from giving me away. Fortunately, my canines are smaller than most Thestrals. Apparently, not small enough.”
Hammer Strike hummed. “That’s fair.” He frowned. “With the way the kingdoms are currently, it’s understandable.”
“I’ve lived as a mercenary for most of my life, traveling from contract to contract until three years ago when I was contracted to escort a scribe Unicorn across the country. I’ve been with him ever since.”
Hammer Strike nodded. “Neither of them know?”
“No. Can you blame me? My people are sub-class Ponies. Mares tell their foals we steal babies to make them behave!”
“I don’t blame you in the slightest.” Hammer Strike shook his head. “I can’t say much, given you barely know me, but you’ll be welcome in my lands, no matter the case.”
“I—thank you.” She bowed her head.
Hammer Strike nodded back toward the camp. “Let’s head back. I’ll be sure to keep this to myself.”
She followed without a word. There was much to think about with this Pony.
Hammer Strike frowned to himself as he looked through several stalls in the village. He carried his goods in his saddlebags. He’d left the cart outside the city and out of sight. Swift, Binding, and Wall watched over it while he got what he needed.
He stopped before a stall and looked over a collection of seeds that had been marked appropriately. After a few moments, he nodded to himself. “What’s your current stance, trade or coin?” he asked the mare behind the stand.
“Both are fine,” the mare said as she looked flatly at the stallion. Her mane was long and thin, and her ribs stuck out from her barrel. Her dull maroon fur was full of snarls. “What have you got to trade?”
Hammer Strike reached into his bags and pulled out a decent sized pouch. “Assorted vegetables, basically just spare crops.”
“Dried?”
“As fresh as a week old in proper containment can be.”
She narrowed her gaze in suspicion. “Show me.”
Hammer Strike shrugged and opened his pouch, revealing an assortment of corn ears and other crops, all as fresh as he’d claimed.
The mare’s mouth watered. “What did you want?”
“I need some cotton seeds, wheat seeds if you’ve got any, and perhaps some grape seeds,” he said as he pointed to each of the samples and labeled vessels in question.
“Anything else?”
“Got any apple seeds?”
“Those are tough to come by after what the frost did to the last harvest. I can ask around, but you’d have to wait till your next visit to town before I can offer any with certainty.”
“That’ll do, then.” Hammer Strike placed the pouch on the table.
The mare’s hoof trembled as she measured out the seeds and bound them in tiny sackcloth pouches using rough homespun thread. Then she passed them to her patron. “It’s been a pleasure doing business with you. What am I to call you when you return?”
“Hammer Strike,” he replied with a small smile.
The mare returned the smile, though Hammer Strike could swear he heard her jaw squeal from the effort. “Until next time, Hammer Strike. You can call me Filler.” She drew the sack behind her stall and peered casually around the surrounding area.
Hammer Strike nodded as he placed the seeds within his saddlebags and turned away toward a series of other stalls. He’d have to look into trading more food, given the clear evidence of demand. But that would also result in others becoming curious, and that was one thing he didn’t need near his land. He would need to be cautious in his dealings.
Hammer Strike hummed to himself as he pulled his cart. Swift and Binding rode within while Wall followed alongside. They were roughly two hours out from the homestead, as evident by the road becoming less and less travel worn.
“So, you know our stories, and it’s evident that you wish to make use of our various skills in greater detail. The question is just how do you intend to make use of them to your greatest advantage?” Binding asked.
“Considering the land isn’t fully tame here, Wall would be best suited for watching over it and dealing with any creatures that step out of line within it. I admittedly need some information going around and certain individuals watched without them knowing, so Swift would be perfect in that regard. You, however, I admittedly don’t have much I can use at this moment that would best fit your skills, unless you could manage the individuals who come to my land for asylum.” Hammer Strike shrugged.
“I did mention my unique skill with magical contracts,” Binding noted. “I assume you would like me to create a catalogue for all such residents?”
Hammer Strike hummed. “I suppose that could work.”
“I’ll see about setting up a proper system and formulating clauses later.”
“I can do your watching for you,” the Thestral said.
“Oh, yeah!” the Earth Pony gave a hoof pump. “Facing monsters is no problem for me.”
Hammer Strike chuckled. “It’ll help when I get you fitted with some proper equipment as well.”
“You mean it?” Wall’s mouth parted in a broad grin as his eyes widened with a childish delight.
“Plate armor, and we’ll figure out weapons later.”
“This is great!” He laughed.
Hammer Strike couldn’t help but smirk as they carried on. it wasn’t long until the land parted way to a series of pathways he had made long ago. Eventually, the house came into view. Thankfully, it seemed to still be in the shape he left it in.
“We have some settling in to do,” Binding noted idly as he observed the plot of land. “Where did you want us to make camp?”
“Somewhere near the road, I’d say. We’ll look into gathering some lumber and making an actual house for you three to live in.”
Binding nodded. “Let us know when you’re ready to proceed. We’ll help however we can.”
“For now, you’ll all have to either set up camp or sleep on my couches,” Hammer Strike replied as he stopped the cart near his house and unfastened his harness.
Seconds later, a blue blur collided with the Pony. Luna beamed at Hammer Strike.
“You act as though I was gone for some time.” Hammer Strike chuckled as he hugged Luna.
“A whole week!” Luna said. “I missed you.”
“I missed you as well.” He smiled. “Where’re your sister and Clover? Studying, I take it?”
“Yup.”
“Fair enough.” He shook his head. “We’ve got some guests. Three, to be precise. They’ll be staying with us indefinitely.”
“Is this going to be a thing?” she asked.
“A thing?”
“You keep getting more Ponies,” Luna pointed out.
Hammer Strike hummed for a moment. “I suppose it does seem that way. Clover is here to help teach you two, so it made sense for her to be here. The group of three Pegasi, I just allowed them to camp on the land and they help manage the weather. These three, however, are here to work with me on things.”
“Luna!” Celestia glared, then pouted at her sister as she approached. “There you are. Clover and I have been looking everywhere for you.”
“I came to see Daddy get home.”
“And the last hour before that?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Celestia sighed. “Of course you don’t.”
“Anything happen while I was gone?” Hammer Strike asked as he brought Celestia in for a hug as well.
“Not much. Clover tried to analyze one of the tablets. Its security measures took care of things, though.”
“I figured that would come one day.” Hammer Strike smiled. “Speaking of which, where is Clover?”
“I cued up some of Mother’s old horticultural notes for her to study.”
Hammer Strike raised a brow. “Really now? Didn’t seem like something she would study.”
“Apparently, the Unicorns don’t have so many efficient techniques, and the Earth Ponies aren’t capable of sharing everything they know, because a lot of it is based on their connection with the land.”
“Fair enough.” Hammer Strike hummed before realizing something. “Oh, right. I should probably go through introductions. Celestia, Luna, this is Towering Wall, Swift Wings, and Binding Strategy, and vice-versa. These are Celestia and Luna, my daughters.”
“Alicorns?” Binding raised a curious brow.
“Correct.”
“I see. I assume there’s a standing ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’ policy in place?”
“Correct.”
“Are any of you hungry?” Celestia asked.
“Oh, yeah! I’m starving!” Wall shouted.
Celestia laughed. “Then let’s see what we can fix up for you.”
Celestia led the trio into the house while Hammer Strike emptied his cart.
“Clover, could you help me in the kitchen? We have guests,” Celestia called.
Clover turned to them. “Oh, more guests?”
“And Father. He’s back from his supply run.”
“Who did he find now?” she asked as she turned to the new guests. Her eyes stopped at Binding. “... You?” she said evenly.
Binding stiffened, but otherwise maintained his composure. “Yes. Me. Will that be a problem?”
“Last time I saw you, you were standing trial for trying to incite revolt.”
“And you were watching from the wings with Princess Platinum while the king sentenced good Ponies to die for no reason other than seeking to restore a measure of peace between the tribes.”
“Yes … against my mentor’s urging,” she said. “And you were allowed to live. In return, you killed your escort to the last and fled.”
“It was either that or endure a life of slavery binding others to the same yoke. Rest assured, I haven’t forgotten those lives, and they were not taken needlessly.”
Clover stared at him for a few more moments before sighing. “I can’t say that I blame you. The king is losing more and more sanity in his old age, and the princess will be a less-than-worthless ruler.”
“Is that why you came here as well, then?”
“I came here because the ruler of this area has a type of magic I have never seen or heard of, and he refuses to teach me.”
“And that continues to hold up,” Hammer Strike commented as he entered the room.
“Caution is the path of the wise,” Binding noted. That was soon followed by the sound of Wall’s raging stomach voicing its demands. He smiled goodnaturedly. “Though I believe I can say with some certainty it would be wise to feed Wall before his stomach devours us all.”
“Hey!” Wall objected.
Hammer Strike peered down the length of the wooden blade in his grip. The previous one had suffered from the last training session between Celestia, Luna, and himself, resulting in having to use a more durable wood for the next one.
While he was able to teach some forms of combat magic alongside Clover, physical training was just as important. It took time for Celestia to get used to it, while it was clear that the genetic alterations put into Luna before her birth were working well. Luna picked up the art relatively quickly, compared to her sister, but it was almost to be expected, given what he knew.
He didn’t have time to think about it. Their next session was close, and he needed to head to the training grounds. Once he was happy with the new training blades, he strapped them to his back and headed out of his underground workshop.
As he exited his house he looked out only to notice a few new camps in the distance, if the smoke columns were anything to go off of. He frowned to himself before adding the mental note of talking with Binding later. Given how he was, Hammer Strike was likely to find him in their new house at almost any point of the day. While Binding was a studious and intelligent individual, he lacked many other social skills, and in the end would remain in their home unless needed.
Hammer Strike sighed as he filed that task away for later and started down the pathway to his mine. He had, over the course of time, cleared a proper cobblestone pathway linking his house, Binding’s, and the mine.
The training grounds had been built a short distance from the entrance. As per usual, Luna was ahead of schedule, having enjoyed these lessons, while Celestia would arrive when it was almost time to begin.
“My, it’s almost as though you’re excited for these lessons,” Hammer Strike commented as he drew near.
“Of course! This is fun!” Luna laughed.
Hammer Strike chuckled as he pulled one of the new training blades off his back and passed it to Luna. “Catch.”
Luna caught it in her hooves.
“We’ll have to cover some form of control in your strength. Most weapons can’t handle that kind of force.” Hammer Strike gave a soft smile.
“Maybe I should use a blunt weapon?”
“Even that’ll break with a lot of force.”
The telltale clop of hooves bespoke the approaching mare. True to form, Celestia arrived exactly on time. Her face was a composed mask, but the tension in her muscles as she approached spoke louder than words how much she dreaded what was to come.
“Early again, Luna?” she asked.
“Of course.” Luna smiled. “These lessons will allow us to defend ourselves.”
Celestia sighed. “That may be, but that doesn’t mean I have to enjoy the bruises.” She rubbed one of her flanks gingerly.
“Pride is a commodity for the strong, Sister.” Luna chuckled.
“It’s also a weakness, if you don’t keep it in check,” Celestia warned.
Luna rolled her eyes as she gave the blade some practice swings. A nearby boulder cracked vertically from the pressurised air coming off the swing, but Luna didn’t notice.
Celestia looked meaningfully at Hammer Strike, then sighed again. “Where do you want us to start today?”
“Today, we’re just going to run through the movements. If things go well enough, we’ll do some practice matches,” Hammer Strike replied simply as he held out the second training blade.
The mare took it and nodded as she assumed her first stance. “Ready.”
Hammer Strike smiled at both of them, then prepared his own training blade. “All right, let’s start simple. Vertical strikes.”
Hammer Strike sighed as he moved toward Binding’s home. In the recent days, he was positive there were more camps around the property. He frowned to himself as he knocked on the door and waited.
The door opened magically as the Unicorn called for him to enter. Binding was hard at work on a new batch of ink, using a series of simple tools and chemical equipment to experiment on new products. Parchments were either busy soaking in solutions, hanging on a board, or rolled up in a corner to await the day of their use.
“You know, if I didn’t know any better, I’d question if you knew about this thing called sunlight.” Hammer Strike sighed as he entered the house. “What are you working on?”
“Some experiments. I’m testing to see which reagents might prove the best combinations for various magical applications. Since one can create a magically binding contract, it isn’t unfeasible for one to potentially recreate a spell formula and store said spell in stasis until the time its power is invoked.”
Hammer Strike hummed aloud. “That would prove useful in some cases. Though, I’ve come here for a different reason.”
Binding proceeded to start mashing some berries with his mortar and pestle. “I assumed so. What were you hoping to discuss?”
“I know I don’t pay attention to the land that often, unless it’s necessary, but I’ve got a few questions about the number of camps I’ve been noticing around here.”
“Such as?”
“Why do we have so many camping around here all the sudden?”
“The general populace is showing greater discontent with the war between the three tribes. These are mostly deserters and commonfolk who didn’t want to deal with it anymore.”
“And you gave them an agreement to camp here?”
“I have a copy of the contract on hoof, if you’d like to see the stipulations.”
“You made each of them sign a contract to stay here?” Hammer Strike questioned.
“Yes. It’s a simple matter to ensure enough space for multiple signatories. You needn’t worry. I was thorough.
“Stipulation one: The undersigned, hereafter to be referred to as the supplicant(s) agrees never to harm or work against Hammer Strike or any numbered in his house, save for exceptional circumstances in service of true justice. This includes physical, mental, and spiritual means, among any others that are not stipulated specifically in this contract.
“Stipulation two: The supplicant(s) agree(s) to be bound by and abide by all laws that Hammer Strike chooses to institute, save that law prove to be unjust or twisted to unjust ends, in which case the twister shall be made subject to the full extent of the law, and Hammer Strike shall bear no responsibility other than to carry out justice against the offending party.
“Stipulation three: The supplicant(s) agree(s) to protect Hammer Strike’s secrets, and will never disclose or discuss these secrets with any other unaware and/or unauthorized individual without prior consent from Hammer Strike.
“Stipulation four: The supplicant(s) acknowledge(s) Hammer Strike is the sole owner of this land, and shall be acknowledged in the stead of any king, queen, prince, princess, oligarchy, or any other governing body, and shall have the final say in all matters of state.
“Stipulation five: The supplicant(s) retain(s) the right to enter into dissolution proceedings with Hammer Strike at any time. The dissolution of this contract shall sever bonds enforced by this contract. However, the supplicant(s) agree(s) to remain bound to protecting any secrets he or she have been entrusted with, regardless of other dissolutions, save Hammer Strike should agree to relieve the supplicant(s) of that obligation.
“In return for adhering to this contract, the supplicant(s) shall receive amnesty from all previous charges, barring certain egregious acts which shall be adjudicated by Hammer Strike directly. The supplicant(s) shall also receive fair recompense for their works and a stretch of land in which to settle. The supplicant(s) shall also receive protection from Hammer Strike in the event any entity should seek to unlawfully extradite the supplicant(s). No force shall remove the supplicant(s) from these lands without Hammer Strike’s prior informed authorization. In the event that conflict or invasion shall breach Hammer Strike’s borders, the supplicant(s) agree to join Hammer Strike in the defense of the land. Supplicants who are either too old, too young, or otherwise infirm, disabled, etc. shall be exempt from this charge. In return, Hammer Strike is bound to protect all warriors in his service to the best of his ability, and will not order them into any danger that he, himself, would not face.
“Any attempts to alter, meddle with, or otherwise break this contract outside of the means stipulated will result in the loss of the life of the supplicant(s) and the forfeiture of their immortal soul.” He smiled and pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose to hide his eyes behind the flashing lenses.
“Well … that’s one way to make sure they aren’t a threat,” Hammer Strike commented.
“I’m a very thorough individual. Though, if you prefer, after I get better materials, we may be able to alter the contract to focus more on the spirit behind the agreement, rather than just the letter of the law.”
“I might be able to assist in that regard.” Hammer Strike’s hoof ignited with thaumic energy. “I can imprint the contract in a more direct way, through the contract.”
“As in through the document? Would this be in any way similar to the process you used on me?”
“Correct.”
“Interesting.” His horn glowed as a stack of papers as tall as Hammer Strike levitated and landed next to the Earth Pony. “These are the copies I’ve been able to manufacture thus far. Given the increase in numbers we’ve had, I’ve made it a habit to make a few extra for surplus each day.”
“A few…” Hammer Strike looked to the stack. After a moment, he sighed and placed his hoof on the stack, letting the energy spread from his hoof over the contracts in place. Once complete, he separated his hoof and extinguished the energy. “I suppose more individuals could prove useful, if they have the talents we’ll need….”
“From a strictly survivalist standpoint, the more Ponies that come, the greater the chance we’ll stand at greater prosperity, especially given the circumstances that would likely drive those individuals to come here.”
Hammer Strike sighed. “I’ll trust your judgement on this. Keep me in the loop.” Hammer Strike gave a brief wave as he turned to leave.
“Of course.”
“How are you today, Harmony?” Hammer Strike asked as he ensured everything was properly maintained near the sapling.
“I sense the beginning of order. There is potential in the land above. The organization helps to strengthen me. And if I’m not mistaken, you yourself are seeking to plant the seeds that will unite what was once sundered by the gods.”
“So it seems.” Hammer Strike chuckled. “I wish I could have planted you on the surface, but the risks are just too high to do so.”
“I understand. Besides, given my unique nature, it would appear that I don’t require sunlight to thrive. However, the steady supply of energy from your orbs is a comfort to me, and it has been useful in stabilizing my form.”
“That’s good to hear.” He gave a small smile. “Feeling better now? Not one hundred percent, I’d assume, but better than before?”
“After what was done to me and my brother, yes. You are very kind to tend to me like this.”
“Well, I couldn’t just leave you to fend for yourself.” Hammer Strike frowned. “Too many would find ways to potentially harm you in this state.”
“It is strange having a physical form,” she agreed. “I can almost feel the world around me. It is … I believe the term is frustrating, that I cannot fully interact with it yet.”
“I wish I could help you with that, but it’ll be some time before something can be figured out.”
“It may be possible that you can help me. You planted my physical form, tended it. In short, you and I have fostered a connection. Indeed, you are perhaps among the few who have ever handled me on this world. I would like to help foster the growth of what you are building; however, I cannot physically leave this place. No one said I had to, though.”
“You have something in mind?”
“Are you familiar with the concept of a bonding? I believe that is the word for it, at least. Given the relationship we share, it may be possible for me to connect myself to you in a manner that allows me to travel with you and see things through your eyes while my physical body remains here.”
Hammer Strike frowned for a moment. “I didn’t think you’d be capable of it, but if you believe yourself able to, I have no problems with the idea.”
“I must warn you. Once made, this connection will be permanent. And as I will be able to see through you, so, too, will you be able to see through me. I believe such a bond is often referred to as a marriage by mortals. Are you certain that you wish to enter such a union?”
“If it will grant you peace and the ability to see the world as it grows, I do not mind at all.” He gave a faint smile.
“You are a strange creature, Hammer Strike. Many would flee such a union, yet you would enter it willingly with no desire to better yourself.”
“You act as though I was normal to begin with,” Hammer Strike replied simply. “Dragged through time, experimented on, fought in wars, torture, and a field of power that next to no being on this planet knows. That doesn’t fall in normal.” He gave a faint smirk.
“If you are certain, then I will begin. At the very least, you will have a voice of experience to offer counsel as you build. At the most, perhaps much more.” The crystals began to glow brightly as the power draw from Hammer Strike’s solar sphere increased. A single flower bloomed from a tendril that pulsed with a rainbow light. “If you would accept this bond of your own free will, touch this flower. I have little to give, but what I can, I give freely.”
Hammer Strike held up a hoof and coated it in thaumic energy before placing it against the flower.
The resulting expulsion of energy flooded the cave with a corona of light. The darkened stone of the cavern took on a dull sheen as pockets of minerals gained new vibrancy. Hammer Strike blinked against the sudden overload in his photoreceptors. And for the briefest of moments, he heard music that went beyond description, beyond emotion. It thrummed through him, through the earth beneath his feet, through the air in the cave, and beyond. It was radiant, exultant. It was harmony. When the light finally faded to more manageable levels, he beheld that the sapling had grown to the height of his neck, and the beginnings of tiny branches jutted out in symmetrical angles.
“Apologies for the lightshow. I didn’t expect the pact to create such an outflow of power.” This time, the voice wasn’t coming from the tree. Hammer Strike turned with some surprise to behold a crystalline Pony with a pair of rainbows that sprouted from her back to form ethereal wings. Her body glowed a rosy pink as she looked bashfully at the ground. “Well? How do I look?”
“Stunning.” He gave her a smile. “Radiant, too, if you want to count earlier.”
The pink deepened in shade. “I see.” She cleared her astral throat. “Congratulations are in order, I suppose. Now that the bond is complete, you get to benefit from my wisdom in fostering order and balance. And I get to know … you.”
Hammer Strike chuckled. “We’ll have plenty of time for that, but I’m sure there’s something that you’ll like to see more.”
“And what is that?”
Hammer Strike gestured toward the ladder. “You’ll see soon enough.” It didn’t take long for him to reach the surface with Harmony in tow. What greeted them was a wide open land with a few camps in the distance, near them stood the large log cabin that Hammer Strike called home, and a nearby cabin for Binding and company.
He smiled as he looked out at the land before turning to Harmony. “You’ve been in that cave for years, and before that as an acorn in a vial in my pocket. I figure the best thing to start with would be a nice change of scenery.”
Harmony smiled shyly. “Lead the way, my guardian.”
Clover growled as she closed her notes for the fourteenth time. She’d spent hours analyzing the orbs, using spells to identify them in every conceivable way, and she still wasn’t a single step closer to finding out how they worked.
“Biggest magical innovation in history, and I can't even tell what school of magic it is,” she moaned.
“That alone should tell you something,” Hammer Strike commented as he drew near.
“That something’s not right,” Clover said. “Magic isn’t so radical that it should be untraceable.”
Hammer Strike sighed in response. “Need this go on, Clover?”
“Yes! I need to know!”
“Clover, there are some things that shouldn’t be known. I figured Star Swirl would have at least taught you that.”
“Even so, we know such things exist,” Clover countered. “And how they exist!”
Hammer Strike shook his head. It was the same conversation each time. And it would continue to happen unless he taught her. “Not everything is so simple….”
“Neither is necromancy. Neither is divination. Tartarus, neither is demonology!”
Hammer Strike groaned as he rubbed his temple. No matter how much he argued the fact, she wouldn’t accept any of it. He had tried every point in the book to dissuade her, but none of them worked. However, there was one thing that he hadn’t tried yet.
“...Fine.”
Clover stared at him a moment in stunned silence. “Fine?” she finally ventured.
“I’ll teach you.” Hammer Strike slowly lowered his hoof as he turned toward her. “I’ll teach you, on one condition.”
Clover nearly lunged at him in her excitement. “Anything!”
Hammer Strike’s hoof ignited in thaumic flames. He stared at them for a moment as he formed an open connection. “My condition is that I’ll teach you, if you can ask me the question afterwards.”
Before Clover could respond, Hammer Strike placed his hoof on the side of her head, and her world went black. As she came to, she stood within the confines of a stone brick room. Cracks formed along the walls and floor, revealing a black emptiness behind them. There was no entry or exit, just the cracks around her.
Clover took a step back as she stared into that blackness, and her eyes widened. Soon after, the cracks began to expand, and a presence pressed down on her being. More and more, they all opened, revealing greater portions of that empty, hungry nothingness, until a white mass revealed itself with a single dark core.
It was an eye. Then another. As the presence dwarfed her being, it continued to grow stronger and stronger, and the cracks grew wider. More and more of the creature was revealed. More eyes peeking in from the dark. More pressure by the sheer weight of presence alone. To Clover, it felt as though every part of her body was encased, a constant feeling of suffocation following it to the bitter end. She was left with just a few slivers of wall left. Then they crumbled away, and nothing held her back from the onslaught of just this thing’s presence alone. It was one. It was many. It was awful.
And it was everywhere.
Then it all vanished, and she stood in the forest once more. Hammer Strike sat just a few feet away from her with a sorrowful expression on his face. “Every waking moment, Clover. Every moment of every day, I can feel them watching over me.”
Clover could say nothing. Her voice seemed to be gone as her mouth moved silently.
“This is what I protect you from, what I protect everyone from. Because with this power, comes that.”
Hammer Strike sighed as he moved her along toward the house. It would take time for her to recover. That much was sure. He settled her onto the couch and sat across from her, awaiting when she would come out of her stupor.
She finally seemed to return to herself a few hours later. Her head remained bowed as she spoke. “That was … horrible.”
“Imagine it every waking moment of your life, unable to be free from it.” Hammer Strike frowned. “I don’t wish this on anyone else, even those who have this power already. I hide knowledge from them and keep them restrained in power, just to make sure they never experience this....”
“What do they want?”
“That same power I use.” Hammer Strike sighed. “But a recent outbreak of said power caused them to become active, and comparatively, I don’t measure up. So, they’re probably waiting for me to grow in power, then try to … take it. I don’t know everything on it, as it was mostly written down, and I didn’t stick around long enough to see what it did.”
“That’s ... that’s worse than demons.”
“Now do you understand why I refused to teach you?”
“I—yes,” she said softly. “I’m sorry.”
“My last question, and then we can never talk about this again. Do you still want to learn it?”
“I—” Clover gulped. “I don’t think i’m ready … yet,” she said, trying to save face.
Hammer Strike nodded in return before standing up. “You’re free to stay as long as you like, Clover. But perhaps some time home will do you some good. They’re bound to have more luxuries and such to help take your mind off things.”
“That … might be for the best. I … need to think.” She sighed. “Can you say goodbye to the girls for me?”
Hammer Strike shook his head. “I’d suggest you wait for a day before heading out. You can tell them goodbye then, all right?”
She nodded. “I’ll be back,” she stated. “I’m not sure when, but I will be back.”
“I’ll be here.” He gave a small smile before it dropped and he turned to leave the living room. He stopped at hallway and faced Clover again. “I’m sorry I had to do that, Clover, but it was the only way.”
“I—yeah.” She sighed.
Grif chuckled as they stared at the screen. “Gentlemen, I think we just saw the only time Clover ever backed down.”
“I don’t know. She technically got what she wanted. She saw something Hammer Strike was trying to warn her about. What troubles me is that he mentioned protecting us from the same,” Vital noted with a frown.
“Keep up on your reading. You’ll sorta get it,” Grif said.
“I don’t know. I’m not always as sharp as you,” Vital said. “Though given what it did to Clover, I’m not sure I even want to know.”
“Not my place to say. I don't fully understand it, myself,” Grif admitted. “Still, I have a feeling that's not the last we’ll hear of that.”
“Given our luck, you’re probably right.”
“More of this Murphy character?” Rarity asked.
“More of a premonition,” Vital clarified. “Murphy usually shows up when we say something could never happen, ask what could possibly go wrong, say things couldn’t get any worse, those sort of things.”
“Yes, Murphy, not to be underestimated,” The Doctor added.
“You’ve had run-ins with him plenty of times, haven’t you, Doctor?” Vital asked with a knowing smile.
“Of course.”
“Say, Doctor, did you ever tell Derpy about your encounter with the Carrionites?”
“Don’t mention that name,” the Doctor snapped.
“I’ll take that as a no,” Vital said, then sighed. “Whatever you say, Doc.”
“Sorry to ask, but what’s a,” Twilight glanced surreptitiously at The Doctor, “you know?”
Hammer Strike sighed to himself as he made his way back to the Earth Pony settlement. He had left Hermes and the others to watch over the girls while he went off this time. He was running low on ores again, and he needed to gather more. This trip was also to see if they had any of the other seeds he was looking for.
The settlement was in a slightly better shape than before, though not by much. Some Ponies started to look less starved, more along the lines of just thin. The guards didn’t bother to check him the last few times he had visited, meaning his name and image was becoming known there.
He frowned as he entered the settlement and began sorting through the stalls in the market. There were new faces that would come and go, and some that would always remain, and he dedicated time to checking out the new faces right after his usual stops.
He traded crops for seeds and other assorted goods, even coming out of it with more ore than expected. This left him with extra resources for trade, giving him the opportunity to explore the new stalls. One in particular stood out among the rest as a Unicorn called out and made a grand display to gather ponies’ attention.
He was selling ‘magical artifacts.’ And if Hammer Strike had to place a bet on it, he was trying to swindle Ponies into buying false goods. He sighed to himself as he moved to the stand, figuring he would at least give it a look over.
“Magical artifacts here to solve all your troubles,” the Unicorn shouted to the audience. “Totems that will help grow crops! Talismans for healthy foals! Or try your luck with this fortune dice!” The vendor had a voice reminiscent of Flim from the Flim Flam brothers, and seemed equally skilled at the art.
Hammer Strike raised a brow as he scanned through the assorted items on the stall. Most of the objects were indeed inert, but what did catch his eye was the die mentioned beforehand. While it sat with a false duplicate, a brief thaumic scan soon proved its authenticity. The stall owner had somehow come across a genuine die of fate, despite their rarity.
He frowned as he walked up to the stall. “How much for the … fortune dice?”
The Unicorn turned to Hammer Strike like a shark smelling blood in the water. “Well, my good stallion, that is a bit of a rarity. Found them hidden away in a cave. Possibly the only ones of their kind. Ten pounds of gold or thirty pounds of consumable produce seems fair, I’d say.”
Hammer Strike frowned as he thought things over. “Make it five pounds of gold and I’ll throw in a bottle of wine.”
“White or red?”
“Red wine.” Hammer Strike pulled out the bottle.
The Unicorn’s eyes widened visibly. “Done.”
Hammer Strike handed over the gold and wine and took his dice. After storing them in his bag, he walked by a familiar stall and whispered over to Filler. “The only thing real in that stand is the totem, and it probably only works in about a three trot distance.”
Filler’s eyes widened. “You can detect magic?”
“Glowing eyes for a reason.” Hammer Strike shrugged. “You’ve been fair, so I’ll let a little information slip this time.”
Filler cocked her head. “You’re a strange Pony, you know that? Most folks just look out for themselves nowadays.”
“And that’s how a collective dies.” Hammer Strike shrugged as he walked off. “Do what you will with that.”
Fuller frowned in thought. “So, are you part of a collective, then?” she called after him.
“Small group. Perhaps I’ll tell you more next time,” he called back.
Hammer Strike ensured his saddlebags were secure and began on his long journey home. It only took him five minutes outside the gate to know for a fact he was being followed.
“I sense ill intent,” Harmony said as she walked by his side. “The strangers that follow you are more than curious.”
Hammer Strike sighed to himself at the news. He knew that one problem the would-be-ambushers would face is that he didn’t take any breaks, meaning they would wear themselves out. However, he wasn’t willing to let that risk of their keeping up stay in place.
He stopped in his tracks and turned around. “I’ll give this warning once. You keep following me, and it’ll be the last thing you do.” He reached into his coat and pulled out a crude throwing knife. He waited a moment before aiming at one of the trees nearby and throwing it, hard.
A loud crack split through the air, followed by a loud thunk. The knife had pierced through the first tree and struck a second behind it. A few seconds later, the first had split itself down the middle to reveal the face of a terrified Pony behind it with a suspiciously parted mane.
He fixed the bandit with a glare. “Understood?”
“We’re not getting paid enough for this,” the Pony said and bolted for the trees.
There was rustling in the trees as the others clearly made their exit. It seemed whoever had hired them wasn’t giving them danger pay.
Hammer Strike frowned at the thought. Someone way paying them to look into him. He sighed as he pulled the dagger back to him thaumically and resheathed it. He would have to look into that further next time he was in town.
Luna was seated on the couch as Hammer Strike gathered his collection of medical supplies. While training had been going well for both her and Celestia, it at times had some issues. In this case, crushing a boulder does not mean the fragments coming from it won’t hit you.
He carefully removed each fragment that had embedded itself into Luna’s leg before disinfecting with thaumic means and applying a homemade medical wrap. It took him some time before he was certain it had been bandaged properly.
Fighting was one thing, but managing wounds was certainly not the highest in his list of talents. Sure, he could sear wounds shut, but that honestly was a horrible method of dealing with injuries. At the same time, his field and body usually did the rest automatically.
He nodded at his work before telling Luna she was done. She tested the leg for a moment before conceding that she should give it a day to heal. This got Hammer Strike thinking, however. While he had the medical cube, he actually had yet to set it up. He frowned at the thought before moving down into the depths of his basement and the sublevels after.
Eventually, he came across the large dug-out chamber he’d carved specifically for the cube. He wasn’t quite sure how easy or complicated the device would be to set up, though. His eyes eventually deciphered how he was supposed to go about it, giving him the simple instructions of placing it in the center of the room, pressing a button, and stepping back.
He shrugged to himself before setting the cube down and following the directions. The cube started to hum and suddenly grew in scale until it reached the topmost part of the chamber. Though its size changed, its exterior had not. It still resembled that of a jet black cube with a red cross marking on it.
He touched the side of the structure, only for a panel to shift and hiss as it opened, revealing an airlock-style entrance. The panel closed behind him as he entered, and a mist seeped into the room before being vacuumed out. He frowned at the feeling before the main door opened, revealing the inside of the cube.
It wasn’t spacious, nor did it contain a multitude of tools or anything else one might expect from a fully stocked infirmary. Instead, it simply held a few cabinets with a small number of medical supplies. The center of the room held a medical table. For all intents and purposes, it looked more like a portable nurse’s station than a medical facility. Above the table, however, was another story.
Hammer Strike had to hold back his impulse as the sight of a familiar tube that was suspended above the surgical table. Dark memories surfaced as he realised the full extent of what the chamber was capable of. Yes, it could heal practically anything, but it was also capable of altering and adding augments and cybernetics.
He shuddered to himself as he struggled to rein in the instinct that raged through him. A gentle hoof brushed him, and he nearly lashed out until a cool sensation passed through his body and his heart rate began to slow.
“I may not be able to do much, but I can at least offer this,” Harmony said. “This place is distressing to you. It would be best if you departed as soon as possible.”
Hammer Strike shuddered, then nodded. “Yes, I will. But first, I must finish what I came here to do.” He passed methodically through the room’s cabinets to ensure it was stocked and complete. Once he was done with that, he exited the cube. This time warmth flooded through his body, granting his muscles relief from the strain they had just endured. He took a deep breath and sighed as he looked back on the cube.
“Will you be all right?” Harmony asked.
Hammer Strike nodded curtly. “Eventually….”
Hammer Strike sighed contentedly as he established a new orb of vitalization. After some years of alterations to the initial constructive formula, he had finally finished the system for these orbs, letting them revitalize the land around them to allow continuous harvest without wearing down the nutrients in the soil. It also worked as a filter of solar energy that would fluctuate over the course of time, ensuring the plants were given the optimal amount of sunlight to thrive.
By this point, he had replaced most of the orbs around the land and started creating new ones over the new farms that were being established for their little community. It was strange, to say the least, but Celestia and Luna seemed to appreciate the extra company, especially when they had others within their own age to socialize with as well.
His satisfaction, however, drifted as he heard a series of wings flapping in his general direction. Turning, he was surprised to find Hurricane leading a squad over his land before landing nearby and walking up to him. While a visit from just him would have been fine, being with a squad meant that this wasn’t a house call.
“I get the feeling this isn’t going to be a pleasant visit,” Hammer Strike commented with a frown.
“We are on the track for deserters who vanished some time ago,” Hurricane said, clearly not enjoying this. “Despite my assurances they must be dead, the High Command council has insisted I check for them.”
“So, you came here.” Hammer Strike sighed. “If they’re here, they’re staying here.”
“I take it that's your denial for permission to search your lands?” Hurricane asked.
“Correct.”
“Lieutenant,” Hurricane called.
A blue-gray Pegasus with gray feathers strode forward and saluted. “Yes, Sir?”
“By the current accords, we are not allowed to forcibly search lands of another tribe member. Let it be noted that this Earth Pony baron has forbidden us from searching his lands, and therefore we cannot search this area.”
“Um, … Sir, with all due respect, if this is who I think it is, then how could he be a baron? No one has given him a rank or a title to speak of.”
“He claims and maintains these lands. As of yet, no power has wrestled them from him, and the people seem to respect him. He is not a noble. That, I am aware of. And therefore, this would be a barony, not a county. Thus, baron.”
The soldier blushed at the unspoken rebuke in the commander’s tone. “Yes, Sir.”
“I'm sorry for wasting your time,” Hurricane said to Hammer Strike. “Is there a chance I could purchase some provisions for the trip to our next stop?”
Hammer Strike sighed. “What do you need?”
“Anything you can spare. We can pay you in gold or trade,” Hurricane offered.
“Sir, this is highly irregular,” the lieutenant objected.
“Lieutenant, we just had a winter that lasted several years. It was caused by ghost Ponies made of ice and ended by a giant flaming heart. I would say these times are irregular. We are a small squad, all of whom are still coming off of rationing. If the baron here is any example, I would say if he does have any Pegasi in his area, we’d be hard pressed in a fight. You want to push for a levy, then you’re welcome to grab your sword and try it, but I won't be there to back you. You got your commission because of your father. I earned mine. Do you really want to do this?”
The upstart looked first to his commander, then to Hammer Strike’s frighteningly neutral gaze, and finally to his fellow soldiers, most of whom avoided eye contact. His head drooped as he mumbled a defeated, “Whatever you say, Sir.”
“You lot can wait out here.” Hammer Strike moved toward his home. “Come on, Hurricane. I’ve got spare supplies inside.”
“Of course.” Hurricane nodded, still glaring back at the group. “Wait here,” he ordered.
The soldiers formed up ranks while avoiding their leader’s gaze.
Hammer Strike brought Hurricane into his house before leading him toward a pantry where he stored all his food. He frowned as he started collecting a series of supplies for them. “They’re here, Hurricane, but they aren’t going back with you.”
“Why not? I was honest about paying you.”
“The Pegasi you’re looking for, Hurricane.” Hammer Strike sighed.
“Oh, that. Well, I suspected. I was half hoping you’d just say they’re dead.”
“If you get caught in that lie by someone else investigating, it’ll bite you in the future, so I’m being honest with you.”
“I appreciate your honesty, though as a friend, or at least an acquaintance, I'd suggest you start on walls immediately. I’m not sure how much longer the council will let me command. This peace based on a fairy tail won’t last.”
“I planned on it.” Hammer Strike sighed and placed a bag of supplies before Hurricane. “Don’t get my neutral expression or slight hostility wrong, by the way. It’s great to see a friendly face, but if it were anyone else from your military, it wouldn’t have been this stable of a conversation.”
“I suspected as much. Truth be told, there is no such treaty, but I’d rather not heroically lead a squad to their deaths trying to claim a plot of land on a flimsy justification.”
Hammer Strike nodded. “This should get you through at least a week as long as you ration it.”
“Thank you. What do you want for it?”
He sighed. “Just … look after yourself, all right? And know that there’s always room here, should you require a … transfer.”
Hurrican nodded grimly. “I appreciate it. Fair travels, my friend.”
Hammer Strike returned the gesture as they returned to the house’s entrance together.
Hammer Strike frowned to himself as he pulled his cart toward the outer edge of his land. It had been on his mind for the last few months to work on an outer wall, and the warning from Hurricane had finally pushed him over the edge. Large sections of lumber were bound and nailed together in the vehicle’s bed to form sections that he could create and place within a reasonable amount of time. It was an alteration to his previous method of creating walls, ensuring that it would hold for a good number of years.
“Where did you want to start staking?” The stallion that had walked by his cart had been relatively silent up till this point. His black fur and hazel eyes blended with his soft voice to lessen his presence, but the deep reverberations would easily draw anypony to pay attention if they should register his speech. His body was a mass of muscle and sinew that made him far bulkier than most of his fellow Earth Pony refugees. True to tradition, his name had to do with his chosen craft, and he’d introduced himself as such, Sawyer.
“Roughly near the end of the reach of the orbs I’ve made,” Hammer Strike replied. “Over the last year, I’ve been establishing a border of sorts to work with, just far enough away from other territories that it keeps out of sight but gives plenty of room to work with and expand.”
The stallion nodded as they carried on. Foundations and the skeletons of buildings had begun to rise from the ground as Ponies hard at work struggled to settle their homes and help build up the land Hammer Strike had claimed in accordance with their contracts.
Hammer Strike hummed as he looked over the structures. Ponies were really settling in and going to work around him to earn their keep. “I still find myself surprised as I look out to this.”
“Lot of ponies don’t got much else to go. When you don’t have much left, you take what you can get. You offered them safety, stability. That’s gonna get you places. And word travels fast after folk find out about a good deal.”
“Yeah, but that also invites trouble, which will certainly lead to some interesting times ahead of us.” Hammer Strike chuckled.
“Pardon me if I sound all presumptuous, but you sound almost like you’re looking forward to it.”
“Well, what better way to get them to back off than beating them back?” He smiled. “Until then, it’s the waiting game.”
“And the building game?”
“That, too. Helps keep out some creatures as well, so a win-win.” Hammer Strike shrugged.
“Well, I’ve got plenty of experience with wood, so whatever you need, I’ll help.”
“It’ll certainly help me get these up faster.” Hammer Strike gestured to the cart behind him. “I appreciate it, by the way.”
“Well, s’not like I had much better to do. N’you did take us in and all. You know how we folk work. We don’t forget that kind of kindness.”
“Waiting on additional lumber then for the houses, or are you waiting for the frames to be complete first?”
“Little of both.” He shrugged. “We’ve got enough of us spread out to work the basics. Once things get far enough along, I’ll slip in to guide some of the apprentices.”
“Apprentices?”
He chuckled. “My foals. They’re eager to learn, but they still have a ways to go before they can handle a full project on their own.”
Hammer Strike gave a small smile. “They’ve got their work cut out for them, then.”
“We’ve done more with less before. We’ll manage.” Sawyer smiled. “Got any little ones of your own?”
“Besides Celestia and Luna?”
“Aye.”
“Not really.”
“Ever think of having more?”
Hammer Strike paused for a brief second before shrugging. “One day, perhaps.”
Sawyer smiled. “I’ll tell you, it’s definitely worth it. But I suppose you already knew that.”
“We’ll see how things go. For now, we’ve got to get this wall up.”
Hammer Strike sighed to himself as he descended into the mines once more. The amount of iron he was using recently was too great for his current supply, meaning he would definitely need to gather more. There was a particular set of veins that he remembered deeper within, and he figured his best option would be to gather a good amount of it.
As he pressed deeper, he heard the faint rhythm of metal striking stone. He frowned as he thought through the settlement’s current population. There were no miners within the ranks, meaning that this disturbance was caused by someone else entirely.
Keeping a pick at the ready, he continued down until he started to note a light farther ahead around one of the bends. He didn’t bother sneaking around, instead choosing to round the corner and confront whoever was there, only to fight a sight he hadn’t anticipated.
Three Shetland Ponies wearing rough iron armor stared up at him with wide eyes. They immediately dropped to the ground in synch with their heads bowed to hide their eyes.
“Well, I certainly didn’t expect to find Dwarves nearby,” Hammer Strike commented aloud.
“Forgive us, Blue One, we dinnae mean to steal from you,” the middle Dwarf said. “We had no tools, and were cast from our home.”
Hammer Strike raised a brow as he looked to the trio before realizing what they had meant. “The ore?”
“Well, the ore, yes, but we were referring to the tools,” the Dwarf on the left side said. “The pickaxes.”
Hammer Strike shrugged. “I make plenty of spare tools. It’s fine,” he replied as he moved closer to the genuflectors.
“Thank you, Blue One. We won’t forget your generosity.”
For the first time that Hammer Strike could remember, Harmony giggled. “I like these three. Not only are they skilled smiths, but they are most humorous.”
Hammer Strike rolled his eyes as he pulled out one of his spare tools and offered it to the dwarf. “Here. It’s steel. Should last longer.”
The middle Dwarf took it with awe. “This will be a family heirloom.”
“I’m sure it will.” Hammer Strike chuckled. Then, as he looked to the dwarves, an idea struck him. He still held plenty of those artifacts from the Alicorns, and he knew how the Dwarves would turn out in the end. “Tell me, would you be able to perform a task for me?”
“Anything, Blue One!”
Hammer Strike reached to his chest and pulled once more at the wellspring of energy coming from the artifacts. A few seconds later, a pulsing golden drop levitated on his hoof as he offered it to the Dwarf. “I want you to take this and keep guard of it. One day, I will see to finding it again, but it will be a long time until that day.”
“Of course, Blue Lard. We will secure it, so no one will ever find it.”
Hammer Strike chuckled. “I’m quite positive of that. Stay safe, all of you.” He sighed and turned toward a different section of the mine. “If you’re ever in dire straits, just look for me nearby.”
“Aye, and we will work to repay your kindness.” The Dwarves bowed again as they backed away.
Hammer Strike left the trio to their own work as he separated to collect materials for himself. It took a few hours of work, but the end result was his bags being full of materials to sort through. The return trip was mostly silent, save for the occasional exchange with Harmony as the moon hung overhead. He frowned to himself and simply placed his bag and tools away, knowing he would make too much noise if he sorted through his haul now.
He entered his home, only for a familiar energy to wash over him. He frowned to himself as he scanned the area until his gaze landed on Ulkrusher, sitting on a mount nearby. It was a strange feeling, almost as if the weapon were calling out to him. But it had been so long since that was the case. He hesitated for a moment before extending his hoof. A familiar feeling washed over his hoof as the hammer suddenly raised off the mount and landed in his grip once again.
“What happened?” Hammer Strike asked himself as he scanned over the hammer. “What changed for you to come back to me?” Ulkrusher pulsed gently in his hoof, resulting in him glancing at the hammer’s head, only to note a familiar energy coming from it. His eyes widened as he looked into the center, where a section of it separated from the rest of the stone in the familiar shape of a teardrop.
Hammer Strike couldn’t help but let out a quiet faint laugh. “You clever Dwarves. Without me even knowing it, you held up your end of the deal.”
Hammer Strike sighed contentedly as he held up a finished blade in his hoof. It took some time, and a lot of gentle work, but he finally had completed a proper sword for Towering Wall. It was perfectly balanced for the size of the stallion, along with a recently completed shield, allowing him a range of movement while working well as a defensive fighter.
His contentment, however, ran short as a series of knocks echoed down from upstairs, meaning someone was at his door. He sighed to himself as he placed the blade down and walked up the stairs into the main house. Celestia and Luna were off sparring, so it left him having to deal with any social calls himself. He opened the door abruptly, fully prepared to deal with any number of tedious requests that might arise.
Much to his surprise, Hurricane stood before him. The commander’s body was bruised and battered. Blood dyed patches of his light blue fur a deep violet. He wore no armor and had no weapon. His body, while still somewhat muscular, was gaunt, likely from the famine and rationing of the last few years.
“Hurricane!” Hammer Strike called out in surprise before ushering the Pegasus inside. “Get in here. What happened to you?” He guided the Pegasus toward the couch, where he forced the stallion to lie down.
Hurricane coughed a few times. “Lieutenant didn’t appreciate how I handled our last meeting. Went to his father, who happened to have more pull in the council than I thought. They declared my actions treasonous for not seizing your farm. I was stripped of my rank and court martialed. Coward had me beaten in the stockade.” He spat. “Was left to die on the ground.”
“You walked here from the Pegasus capital?” Hammer Strike immediately started to gather his medical supplies.
Hurricane chuckled, which brought more coughs. “Not quite.” The front door opened again to reveal a towering silhouette against the light.
“Forgive me for letting myself in, but you closed the door on me.” The figure entered, revealing a familiar Minotaur with larger-than-average horns. He wore a black robe now, and carried an intricately carved wooden staff. However, his body had changed drastically. His palor was ashen, his fur gray and dead. And despite the clear use of scented oils, the stink of decay still vaguely wafted in the room.
“Momonga? I’ll be damned,” Hamme Strike swore. “You look equally as bad, if not worse.” He rubbed his forehead “Sorry, I didn’t expect someone else. Give me a minute. I think I’ve got more medical supplies,” he replied as he pulled out the items in question.
“No!” momonga spoke in an urgent tone. “No health potions, no medicine, and definitely no healing magic. Don’t worry about my form. I am fine.”
Hammer Strike scanned him briefly to determine what was going on only for the results to return a lack of a pulse. Momonga was literally a walking corpse. He sighed audibly. “We’ll talk later, Momonga. I know what’s happened.” He turned back to Hurricane.
“He found me with his cart,” Hurricane explained. “He seemed polite enough, so I asked that he bring me here.”
“A time for catching up.” Hammer Strike sighed. “Come here, Momonga. Depending on how you are, I might have to use some more drastic measures.”
“I’ll wait out by my cart,” Momonga said. “I just wanted to be sure the Pegasus was safe. And as I said, he needs the more immediate care.”
Hammer Strike nodded grimly before returning his full attention to Hurricane. Thankfully, most of the injuries were simple, just numerous. He dressed them first, feeling grateful for the practice he’d had with Luna and others in the years before. Once he was confident Hurricane was at least passably treated, he wandered to the kitchen and made a small stew for the Pegasus to provide some much needed nourishment. He laid the bowl on a small sidetable by the warrior. “It’ll take a little time for everything to settle, but I put a little something extra in this to help numb the pain. Make sure to eat as much of it as you can.”
“Thank you, my friend,” Hurricane wheezed.
“Just because you wouldn’t act against me, and instead traded for materials, because you respected my say in my land, they did all this?”
“There’s been famine for several years. Any farm that can produce is going to be a major political piece for someone.”
“So, they took note of the rations you got from me.…” Hammer Strike frowned.
“You think they started watching at that point? They’ve been staking out your land for years.”
“I meant that seeing you get rations from me might have been the tipping point, Hurricane.”
“I suppose so.” Hurricane wheezed again. “I saw you have those walls mostly built. That's a good thing.”
“It certainly is.” Hammer Strike sighed. “Rest up. We’ll talk more later, all right? If Celestia or Luna come in, tell them that I already got you stable.”
“I will. And thank you, my friend.”
Hammer Strike sighed and put the medical supplies away. He’d have to talk with Hurricane more later. But for now, he had someone else that was “stable” enough to talk to.
He exited his house and noted Momonga’s cart nearby. He eventually rounded it to find Momonga on the other side. After ensuring there was nobody else nearby to overhear their conversation, he sighed and broached the topic that both knew had to be addressed. “You’re undead now?”
“Straight to the point, I see.” The Minotaur laughed. “Yes, at some point in the study of necromancy, it becomes more beneficial to embrace unlife.”
Hammer Strike studied the Minotaur’s flow of power and noted it to be significantly more than it used to be. While he wasn’t positive without them being near, it appeared to be larger than both Binding and Clover. “It certainly helped you magic-wise. However….”
“All the mana normally flowing toward keeping me alive no longer has that job. I suppose as far as necromancers go, I am at the second tier of power. Does that bother you?”
“Not really.” Hammer Strike shrugged. “Honestly, I’ve dealt with worse.”
“An open mind. A rarity in this day and age. But then again, those who reach the seventh tier of power have little to fear. Is that not so?”
Hammer Strike raised an inquiring brow at the expression.
“I can sense your power just as easily as you can sense mine now.” Momonga laughed. “It’s like staring at an inferno while holding a small flame on a stick. It’s a surprise you haven’t shed your mortal coil and ascended to a higher power.”
Hammer Strike shook his head. “I have my means to deal with situations. In that same regard, I don’t feel the need to push myself further.”
“What about uplifting others?” Momonga asked carefully.
“What do you mean?”
“You have a powerful practitioner of light magic here as well, and you had a caster drawing from the elemental plane of magic itself. But you have nothing of the dark arts here.”
“Hard to find someone who fits that point, so the spot’s open, if you want a place to stay.”
“Would I be right in assuming you are skilled in the manipulation of souls?” Momonga asked.
Hammer Strike took a breath and approached with caution. “Why do you ask?”
“I am a revenant right now: intelligent, but not much more capable of magic than when I was alive. There are ways to advance, but to do so usually requires a pact with the most unpleasant of beings. I am considered evil, but I have no wish to see the world burn. I wish to conduct my experiments in peace and have the ability to study without oppression. Tell me, are you familiar with the concept of a lich?”
“You’re asking me to bind your soul to this realm, separated from you?”
“And in return, I would make my pact with you, subservient to you, and there would be no higher power that would bend me to their dark whims.”
“You realize what you’re saying, correct?”
“You would have all power over my soul. I feel you would not abuse such power. You do not desire it, from what I've seen. Nor do you desire glory. There are dark things in this world that you may find my help useful against. In return, you will allow me to study, and perhaps provide me with the corpses of your enemies or the occasional criminal. I could not betray you, and you would not betray me. It is a deal that few could ever hope for.”
“You aren’t wrong.” Hammer Strike rubbed the back of his head. “But I’m not quite sure right now. The idea of binding is still something I find somewhat uncomfortable, due to what it entails.”
“That is why I would ask you. You need not decide today, anyway. All I ask for now is to set up a place for myself, a tomb of sorts from which to work out of.”
“I’ll look into getting you a space underground.” Hammer Strike hummed to himself. “It’ll take me some time to give you a definite answer on the other.”
“I need neither food nor water, just a place out of the rain, and occasionally some incense for the smell. As for my other request….” He shrugged. “I have nothing but time.”
“I’ll see to it. For now…” He looked around before pointing down the path leading to the hills. “You can set up in my mine for the time being. Once we have a good spot for you, we’ll get you in there. Just make sure not to do anything to the Ponies that live there if you encounter them.”
“Thank you for the opportunity. Should a plague or infection come or you have need of my help or knowledge, just ask. You were civil to me twice now. That is more than either my own race or most of the others I've come across. I hope this to be a sign of the beginnings of a prosperous relationship.” The Minotaur got to his feet and placed his staff within the cart before grabbing the front and lifting it, reminding hammer strike that for a caster, momonga was also incredibly strong.
Hammer Strike waited until Momonga was a good distance away before he sighed and rubbed his forehead. “He’s asking to make a pact with me. Ex Divinia etiam. What am I getting myself into?”
“A relationship that will foster great things,” Harmony said cryptically.
Hammer Strike shifted his bag as he secured it to his back. He was due for another batch of iron from the mines, and he figured it best to get it out of the way as soon as possible. It was the same deal as last time; prepare tools and bags, then head over.
He sighed as he exited his workshop before running into Luna. He blinked a few times, trying to think of what she would usually be working on. “You haven’t started practice today, I take it?”
“Not yet. It’s been more difficult finding padding for Celestia or training weapons for me.” She sighed. “According to Binding, I nearly broke her leg during our last match.”
Hammer Strike frowned. “We’ll have to look into some training to help you manage your strength. You’re stronger than your sister physically by a good deal.”
“I’ve been trying everything. Leg weights, restraining spells, physical restraints. I can’t seem to control it. Everything I do ends up going bad.”
Hammer Strike hummed as he rubbed his jaw in thought. “We can try the method I use to control my strength.”
“Please.” Luna looked almost desperate.
“Tell you what, after this trip to the mines, we’ll look into it. I learned to control my strength through smithing.”
“How does that work? Isn’t it pounding metal into shape with a hammer?” Luna asked.
“Yes, but if you hit it too hard, it shatters. So, rather than giving you a living target or something hard to fix, metal would work best. If you shatter it, we simply melt it and start again.”
“That, … that does make sense.” Luna nodded. “Very well. Smithing. When can we start?”
“After I gather materials from the mines.” Hammer Strike sighed. “Sadly, I’ve been burning through our iron supply with all the nails and joints needed for building.”
Luna smiled at him and hugged him. “Thank you, Daddy.”
Hammer Strike returned the hug with a soft smile. “If you’re bored enough, I can show you from the start as well. I mean, I’m off to collect now, anyway.”
“Okay.” The mare seemed a bit excited at the prospect.
Hammer Strike double-checked his bag before pulling out one of his spare pickaxes to show her. “Down in my workshop, you should be able to find another one of these. Grab it real quick, and we’ll head out.”
Luna nodded excitedly before vanishing in a bluish-purple flash.
Hammer Strike smiled as he placed his pickaxe back into his pack. After a moment, he sorted through some of the spare packs that he had made beforehand and picked one out for Luna as well. The mare arrived soon after, with the pickaxe in tow. Hammer Strike smiled as he took the pickaxe and placed it within her bag, then tied the bag onto her back. “Might as well sort you out as well.”
She grinned and secured the pack’s straps with her magic.
Hammer Strike proceeded to lead Luna toward the mine. “You had good eyesight in the dark, right?”
“And a horn, if need be.”
“Fair enough.” Hammer Strike shrugged as they drew close to the mine entrance. After they entered, he directed Luna toward a tunnel leading farther down. They passed by Momonga’s section, which thankfully contained enough scents to cover the decay, and thus provide the cover necessary to prevent Luna from investigating further.
He pointed at sections of the wall where specific materials showed through the stone. “Copper, when oxidized, tends to be a green in color, but when melted, will be more … orange. Gold is more of a yellow, depending on contamination. For example, if it is blended with silver, it will result in a more white color.” He continued to explain as he directed her attention to different veins along the path.
“Is it common for so many ores to be in one place?” she asked
“Honestly? It depends. Some regions of this world are plentiful in resources, but nowhere contains every ore on the planet in one location, hence why I had to go trade for some.”
“That would make sense. Most metal is the cause of small compounds crystalizing, right?”
“To a point,” Hammer Strike replied. “Some materials are made under different means, but it all…” He paused as he turned to one of the tunnels nearby. He frowned for a moment before moving towards it. “Sounds like we’ve got movement in here.”
The familiar scrabble of claw against crumbling rock echoed down the passage, paired with the tink of a carefully placed pick. Someone else was mining the caves. A lumbering shaggy form panted and heaved as it tore away whole chunks of wall with its bare hands, or so it appeared at first. Closer inspection would reveal the sparkle of metal tipped with diamond drill bits that whirred softly in the dark. The shadow broke into two shapes over time, a burly mastiff with a floofy mane tied back in a bandana and covered by a miner’s cap and a small pomeranian at its legs that struck the chunks of dislodged rock with her pickaxe. Dust smudged her corona of fur as the two continued to work, though the utility belts and vests clearly indicated preparation for their sojourn into the caves, and spoke of a great deal more intelligence than Hammer Strike recalled for their species in the present.
“Behind me, Luna,” Hammer Strike whispered as he took lead toward the Diamond Dogs. “Well, in my list of things I expected down here, I didn’t anticipate Diamond Dogs.”
“A Pony underground? How unusual.” The big dog pulled another chunk out of the wall for the smaller one to dissect as he approached the pair. “What brings you to the depths, stranger?” The mastiff’s voice was deep and carried a slight growl to it, due to his canine nature, but remained soft and friendly.
“Well, I planned on collecting more resources from my mine,” Hammer Strike replied simply.
“Your mine?” the pomeranian asked as she rose from her work on the rocks and propped the pick over her shoulder. Her eyebrow raised in surprise. “Last time we were out this way, no one was here.”
“The additional tunnels didn’t scream otherwise?”
“Lots of people pass through this way. We figured someone needed some ore.”
“I mean, you’re not wrong. Takes a lot of ore to make what’s needed up there.” Hammer Strike sighed. “But there aren’t many in these mines collecting it.”
“How much do you need?” the pomeranian asked.
“If things keep going this way, roughly two tons over the course of years.”
“Can you wait here?” she asked.
Hammer Strike raised a brow. “For now.”
she turned to the mastiff. “Bruiser, you stay here and keep them company. I’m going to go find Princess, okay?”
Bruiser nodded. “Be quick. We still have a quota to reach.”
The pomeranian dropped to all fours and bounded down the tunnel. Around thirty minutes later, she came back with a female collie in tow. They panted to catch their breath, true to canine fashion before the collie straightened her fur and stood up straight. She was only slightly shorter than bruiser and equally muscular.
“Hello. Name’s princess. I’m the alpha of this pack.” She spoke with a surprisingly brisk cockney accent. “Precious over there tells me you're the one who’s gone and laid claim to this land?”
“That would be correct.” Hammer Strike nodded. “I hope this isn’t going to be an issue.”
“Shouldn’t be, if I understand the situation correctly,” she said. “You’re having trouble mining the ore you need fast enough to supply your people. We need a place to bunker down. I think an agreement that benefits both of us could be seen to.”
“You offer a steady supply line, and I offer protection. That sound about right?” Hammer Strike guessed.
“And we get first pick of the precious stones barring anything magical in nature,” she added. “That's really what we’re after, the stones, not the ore. We got a good twelve tons of it stored in the back that we have no use for. Can’t say there’s a lot of gold, but I doubt that's your fancy, anyway.”
Hammer Strike hummed. “We’ll have to talk over specifics topside. I have someone who helps me with dealings such as these.”
“Details, we can do, but would it be safe to say we have an agreement?” she asked.
“For now, yes.”
Princess spat into her right paw and held it out to him.
Hammer Strike sighed internally as he repeated the action and shook on the deal.
Hammer Strike rubbed at his neck as he exited his workshop. A quick scan of the house revealed Celestia and Luna were currently out, despite the fact that their practice should have finished hours ago.
He frowned to himself as he exited the building and looked around. The pathways, while still crude, were expanding steadily. Houses had cropped up in the distance, and chimney smoke rose from each of them as their inhabitants went about their days. Over near the farms he had helped establish, Ponies were busy gathering and sorting crops into bags. The weather was mostly clear, thanks to the current group of Pegasi within the settlement.
Eventually, the Earth Pony’s wandering gaze fell on Hurricane, who was strolling down the path with a sword strapped to his back. “Hey,” he called in greeting to the Pegasus.
“Good afternoon, Hammer Strike.” Hurricane nodded his greeting.
“What’s going on?”
“Morning drills. Keeping everybody fit and ready to go. News from outside is political tensions are up. Food’s becoming more common, but still not plentiful. A Lot of eyes are on us right now. Best to have everybody ready to act on a moment's notice.”
“So, you’re out patrolling?” Hammer Strike asked as he rubbed the back of his head.
Hurricane nodded. “Best I do it for now. The others are still acclimatizing to the new weapons you provided.”
“I gave new weapons out?”
Hurricane reached across his far side with a wing and produced a crossbow. “You handed these out a couple months ago and detailed the training regimen.”
Hammer Strike blinked a few times as he thought on it. While he had a faint recollection of making them, he wasn’t sure if he actually did it. “I … guess I did.” He frowned. “Sorry, with all the years in my head, I guess I sometimes work automatically without really noticing it.”
“It’s fine, Sir. Sometimes, the days like to blur together. Time flies, as they say. Speaking of which, Binding has asked us all to remind you he needs an answer soon.”
Hammer Strike frowned as he thought on what he talked about with Binding. As he thought it over he finally recalled the reason. “I was to name this place, right.”
“We can’t exactly call it Hammer Strike’s Farm forever at this rate, can we?”
“Yeah….” He frowned. “Sorry to change the topic, but do you happen to know where my daughters are?”
“Luna’s on patrol. She said she’d be in the forge this afternoon. Celestia is visiting the schoolhouse again implementing her new literacy plan.” Hurricane smiled. “A settlement where everypony can read. It’s a … different idea.”
Hammer Strike blinked. Now that he thought about it, Celestia and Luna had practically finished their studies from the tablets, but with Clover gone, they had nothing else to learn besides common skills that he could teach. “I need to start focusing on things again,” he muttered.
“Wall wanted to see you when possible, too. Something about some sightings in the night.”
Hammer Strike frowned. “I’ll see him later today.”
“Also,” Hurricane hesitated. “Your Minotaur friend has been … carving into the wall beams. The runes are not something I'm familiar with, but I'm no magician. Still, it would make the men more at ease if you could ask him what they’re for?”
“Considering what he works in, they’re probably some form of protection runes. I’ll look into them later to make sure.”
Hurricane nodded as the tension in his face eased. “Lastly, the gate guard wanted to let you know he’s had a few Ponies arrive asking to speak with you directly. At your convenience, of course.”
“We have dedicated gate guards?”
Binding sighed as he strode through the doors to enter Hammer Strike’s forge. The scribe carried a gnarled wooden staff with a simple pointed metal head to complement his white cloak. “Hammer Strike, we have a problem,” he said bluntly.
Hammer Strike glanced up from his current project. “Should I bring Ulkrusher?”
“Depends on if you think they’ll be a threat. We have some … visitors who were caught hunting on the border. They’ve requested a parlay. Hurricane is keeping them detained while I play the role of humble messenger.”
Hammer Strike sighed. “Why don’t you bring good news to me for a change?” He placed his equipment away before turning to Binding. “Lead the way.”
Binding nodded, and the pair soon found themselves on the outskirts of the settlement, where Hurricane and a group of Ponies held several Gryphons at spearpoint.
“What part of parlay don’t you understand?” a large white tiger golden-eagle mix growled at the spear points. “You don’t use weapons at a parlay.”
“Paylays are typically used on ships. As in most terms, it leans toward gambling with your winnings,” Hammer Strike commented as he drew close.
“And I’m guessing you are the Pony in charge of this settlement?” he asked. They were all dressed in leather armor. Gryphon-made, but low quality. Their party was composed of a mixture of genders, though mostly females with no visible cubs. Though given the way she kept in the center, one of the females may have been pregnant. Their fur was rough, stained, and messy, and their feathers were disheveled.
“I can confirm that,” Hammer Strike replied. “What brings you over here? Last I recall, most of the Gryphon cities and capital are quite some distance from here.”
“Clanless,” the Gryphon grumbled, clearly ashamed of the title. “We didn’t realize we were on your land and just needed some meat for a few days’ travel, until we could find work.”
“You’re looking for work?” Hammer Strike rubbed his chin as he gauged the warrior. “What fields in particular?”
“As much as the bigwigs and hobnobs would have you believe in the cities, not all of us are so high and mighty we’d turn down Pony gold for work. They say the Unicorns are hiring muscle nearby, and something about a war.” He looked into Hammer Strike’s face and wilted. “We’re trained in soldiery, but none of us are professionals. We’re better at hunting, trapping, and skinning. A few of us know masonry,” he admitted. “Look, if you want your pound of flesh, you can take it out of my hide. Just let the rest go. I’m asking you.”
“Believe it or not, while I may seem threatening with the glowing augments in my skull, I am not like other Ponies,” Hammer Strike replied flatly. “If you can manage work, then we can make an arrangement.”
The Gryphon looked to the group, then suspiciously back at Hammer Strike. “What kind of arrangement?”
“You supply work, you get a place to stay with security under my protection.”
“What kind of work?” The Gryphon lifted an eyebrow.
“You literally just listed your potential line of work.” Hammer Strike sighed.
“Last Pony who wanted us to supply work wanted assassins, which is not a business we’re in. I’ve learned to ask questions before making deals.”
“If I wanted someone killed, I’d do it personally,” Hammer Strike replied flatly.
“None of us can supply you with any technology. Even if we knew how, we wouldn’t be capable,” the Gryphon noted carefully.
“I don’t care about additional technology in the first place. I’ve had plenty of experience in my lifetime as is.”
The Gryphon pricked a finger with a talon, allowing a bead of blood to well up, and offered it.
Hammer Strike sighed internally as he reached into his coat and searched for a knife, only to swap sides in search again. After a moment of confused perplexity, he sighed and grabbed Hurricane’s sword out of its sheath, then poked at his hoof.
And again, when it didn’t work the first time.
When the blood finally came, he shook the Gryphon’s hand to seal the blood pact. “Binding will go over the contracts to get things rolling. For now, you’ll have to camp out until our carpenters can get things started on an actual home for each of you.” He glanced casually at his hoof. The cut had already sealed shut. “Also, Hurricane, you might want to get the others to lower the guard a little.”
The guards looked to Hurricane, who nodded, and they stepped back, raising their speartips away from the new additions to Hammer Strike’s growing community. The group seemed to calm down as one. They spread out, and a few flexed their wings as they looked to the Unicorn.
Binding sighed and levitated the contracts before each of them. “I’ve been through this so many times. You’d think I would have figured out a means to record the introduction by now. All right, here are the essentials of the contract you agree to follow.” And he proceeded to go over the clauses and binding protocols of the document for them.
“There's a problem,” the leader said as he looked over the contract.
“And that is?” Binding asked.
“You bound this under the authority of your gods, Unicorn. Powerful though they may be, Faust, Sleipnir, and Bonnie do not own my soul.”
Binding gaped at the Gryphons for a moment, then proceeded to facehoof. “I must be losing my edge.” He sighed. “I’ll see about addressing that issue in due course. In the meantime, will you agree to abide by the contracts, despite the lack of enforcing power?”
“I shook on blood, didn’t I?” He looked to Binding. “Blood is the soul, Unicorn. When a Gryphon offers their blood, it’s as good as any swear.”
And are there consequences for breaking such an oath?”
“The North Wind cuts off your wings and forces you to walk the earth for eternity, never to fly with your ancestors.” The Gryphons shared a shiver in unison, even most of the Pegasi present seemed to stiffen. “It’s the worst fate one could ask for.”
Binding tapped his chin. “I see. Thank you for the information.” He turned to Hammer Strike. “Shall we give them the tour?”
“Yeah.” Hammer Strike gave a small smile. “Give them a tour of Unity.”
Hammer Strike studied the bracket in his hoof to ensure he had made it correctly. It was a steady process, requiring he ensure the correct angle and overall even distribution in thickness.
The doors to the workroom burst open and slammed heavily into the walls under the force of a golden magical aura. Celestia panted where she stood with wide eyes as she stared at her foster father. “The … the egg,” she gasped. “The egg is hatching.”
Hammer Strike passed the bracket onto his work table and stood up. “It’s been a while,” he commented as he moved to exit his workshop.
“Three years, yes,” Celestia agreed as she ran up behind him and pranced in agitation. “Now can we please go faster? You’re the one who found it, and we don’t want it to imprint on someone else accidentally. And besides, I really don’t want to miss it.” This was perhaps the greatest show of excitement and agitation Hammer Strike had seen in her since she was a foal.
The egg chamber, as Celestia had come to call it, was a humble room filled with miniature versions of the orbs Hammer Strike used in the surrounding lands of his territory. The light pulsed constantly within a series of sconces around the room while the egg itself sat on a large metal plate with a burner that held yet another orb to maintain constant temperature. Celestia flinched slightly from the sudden flow of heat as the door opened to provide them entrance, but pushed her discomfort aside in favor of the now-wobbling egg.
Hammer Strike took his place near the egg and took control over the orbs around them to ensure safety. He kept a steady eye over everything, even going so far as to use his augments to scan the egg for medical accuracy.
The egg was a misty white at its bottom normally, but had taken on a rosy tinge at its base as a result of the constant exposure to heat. The white eventually faded into a deep bluish-purple bespeckled with hints of silver and gold flecks that sparkled as the egg wobbled. The faint sounds of scraping and tapping echoed as the shell continued to shift until the beginnings of a bell-like tone rang faintly through the room. The shell trembled, then began to vibrate as the first crack broke and light seeped through. The flecks shuddered faster, and more cracks stretched like veins from the spots. Finally, the tone rose to a frantic pitch. Three things happened at once. The upper shell exploded, light flooded the room, and the ringing stopped.
When the two Ponies finally regained their sight, the fragments of the shell sat in pieces on the metal plate and in various corners of the room. A tiny voice cried out in an adorable keen that only a newborn could ever produce. The hatchling stared with four wide dark eyes rimmed with red and yellow that flickered like embers. Its fur was a matted tawny yellow with just a few hints of orange. Black filmy scales glistened down the front of its neck and torso and gradually hardened as the free air passed over them to form a set of protective scutes. Two small nubs pressed out from the back of its head while a thick spade flopped helplessly at the end of its tail as nerves twitched involuntarily. The bony protrusions that stuck out its back were a sodden mess with matted orange down that looked more like fuzz than it did feathers. Tiny black talons scrabbled against the shell as it experimented with its new world and surroundings.
“It’s so cute,” Celestia cooed at the sight, then squealed with delight when it blinked one pair of eyes, then the other.
“It is quite adorable, isn’t it?” Hammer Strike gave a soft smile as he picked up the young Dragon. “I’ll have to work on some food for him shortly.”
“What do dragons eat, anyway?” Celestia asked as she hovered to get a better look at the newborn.
“Some meats, gemstones, stuff along those lines,” Hammer Strike replied. “At least, scaled dragons. Hopefully, it’s the same, or I’m going to need to make a trip to the Dragonlands to see a certain someone.”
“Doesn’t look very fearsome,” Luna said. She frankly ignored her sister’s startled squeal at her sudden appearance and squinted as she leaned in to look over the dragon.
Hammer Strike glanced back to Luna. “Neither did you at ten minutes old,” he countered. “But time changes things, I’d say.” He smirked.
“We’ll need to add another room,” Luna noted.
Hammer Strike hummed in return. “A temporary one, as some Dragons grow to be quite big.”
“You think he’ll be one of those?” Celestia asked.
“While he may be feathered, he is still a Dragon.” Hammer Strike reached into his coat and searched for something he had grabbed beforehand. After a moment, he pulled out a small ruby and offered it to the young drake.
The hatchling looked curiously at the gem, cocking its head and peering first with one pair of eyes, then the other. Then it reached out curiously with its wobbly neck and started to gnaw at the ruby. Its eyes widened briefly as its tongue touched the stone. Then it suckled the stone with relish as it curled up in the crook of Hammer Strike’s foreleg.
“What do we call him?” Luna asked.
Hammer Strike chuckled. “Well, the two of you bugged me to let you name him when we got him, so I’ll let you two decide.”
“Hmm. This … might take a while,” Celestia mused as she peered at the young Dragon, who had finished his snack and now cried piteously for more.
Hammer Strike smiled and offered another, patting its head afterwards. “No more after that. Got to find something better for you.”
The baby’s eyes watered briefly, and it appeared he was about to cry when his mouth opened in a titanic yawn, followed by the barest hints of sparks that danced out his nostrils.
“Aww,” Celestia cooed. “That was so adorable!”
“It was pretty cute,” Luna relented.
Hammer Strike chuckled as he started moving toward the door. “Come on. For now, we’ll use my bed for him until I get a new space made.” He looked to the house once again. “Oh, I’m glad I made this place fireproof.”
“A feathered Dragon,” Twilight breathed. “I can’t believe it. I’ve never heard of something like that before. Is it a mutation? Could it be a part of their original anatomy that they evolved away from? I have so many questions!”
“Deep breaths, Twilight. Deep breaths,” Vital said. “I’m sure you’ll be able to find out more after we pick Hammer Strike up. You could even take notes on the Dragon’s behavior as it grows up. We’ll probably be seeing a lot more of it, now that it’s hatched.”
“Wonder where it is in our time,” Grif pondered.
“It could be hibernating, or it may have found a new home elsewhere.” Vital shrugged. “Knowing Hammer Strike, we’ll probably find out when we pick him up and go back to the present.”
“Wonder what other surprises we’ll see at this point,” Grif wondered. “Seems like Unity is built on some very old bones.”
“Literally or metaphorically?” Vital asked.
“Yes,” Grif answered.
“... Why do I get the feeling those bones are going to be arriving very soon?” Vital asked.
“Probably because the Pegasi and Unicorns both have a bone to pick with him,” Twilight said. The room remained silent, and a holographic projection of a cricket appeared on the console to chirp at her. After a time under this treatment, she finally couldn’t take it anymore. “What?” she demanded.
“Grif, did Twilight just pun without meaning to?” Vital asked, even as Pensword bit his lip to suppress the giggles that threatened to emerge.
“Yes, sadly.” Grif sighed.
“And so the student surpasses the teacher.” Vital bowed to Twilight.
“Uh, … you’re … welcome?” she responded.
The Doctor facehoofed.
Rarity yawned as she strode into the chamber. “Sorry that took me so long. I had some trouble locating the bathroom. Did I miss something?”
“Just Twilight being Twilight.” Vital smiled as Pensword finally succumbed to the urge and the laughter burst forth in a torrent while he rolled across the floor.
Hammer Strike smiled as he secured the young drake Yharon to his back. How the girls had settled on such a name, he still didn’t understand, but he wasn’t about to question it. There were more important things to tend to. He needed to investigate the town, as he was hearing about new additions and arrivals that wanted to converse with him when he was available. And since he wouldn’t leave the young dragon alone….
Upon exiting the house, he noted that the pathways made were starting to look like a real road now. The Gryphon masons had clearly started work. The stonework that had been laid was smoothed out while maintaining their natural rough appearance, and the gaps between were all filled in.
He nodded at the sight, taking in the new roads before finally setting off in the direction of the gatehouse. The idea of the place expanding due to Binding’s efforts was still a strange experience to him, but it was welcome compared to his time leading the reconstruction of New Unity.
He frowned at the thought before shaking his head to clear it. Now wasn’t the time to think about his past. He soon approached the gatehouse, where an Earth Pony and Unicorn kept watch.
“Hey,” he called out. “Where were the new arrivals sent to until I was able to converse with them?”
“They’re just over here in the temporary way house we set up.” the Earth Pony rose to his hooves and signaled Hammer Strike to follow. He led him to a smaller house, more of a hut, really, just outside the gate. “Do you need me to stick around?” he asked as they approached the door.
“No, I should be fine.” Hammer Strike smiled softly. “Keep up the good work.”
“Thank you, Sir.” The Earth Pony gave a curt nod before trotting back to the gatehouse.
Hammer Strike entered the hut without further delay.
Five Ponies sat around a fireplace eating what appeared to be a vegetable stew quietly. Four Earth Ponies and one Unicorn, to be exact. One of them looked oddly familiar, though Hammer Strike was sure he’d never seen her in his life.
She was a deep maroon-colored Earth Pony mare wearing a leather apron. Her mane was mostly brown, but with a bright strip of green near the center of it. Her cutie mark seemed to be a stall of some kind.
“So, I was told you all wanted to have a meeting with me?” Hammer Strike questioned.
“Well, yes,” the Unicorn spoke up. “But we’re not all together.”
“Who arrived first?”
The familiar mare lifted a hoof.
“Then we’ll talk first. You’ve waited longer,” Hammer Strike replied simply. “We can talk inside or outside. Whatever you choose.”
“Outside, if you don’t mind,” she said as she rose to her hooves, then trotted toward the door.
Hammer Strike followed and closed the door behind them. “I hope you don’t mind the Dragon. He’s a little too young to sit at home by himself.”
“It’s surprising, but my mother said you were a very unusual Pony,” she said as she turned to face him.
“Your mother?”
“My name is Free Market. You never met me, but you used to trade with my mother, Filler.”
“You’re Filler’s Daughter?” He looked her up and down. “That explains it. I can see the family resemblance.”
“Mother said you were always kind in your dealings with her. I was hoping you might have some use for a shopkeeper.”
“I don’t think our settlement has a market, but a flow of currency could be useful.” Hammer Strike hummed. “I’ll have to bring it up with Binding, but we can definitely look into it.”
“Can I stay here until you decide? I hear that it’s safe here.” Her voice was softer than it had been when they first began the discussion, and her gaze didn’t quite meet his properly.
“That’s perfectly fine.” He smiled reassuringly. “You can stay within the current housing until everything is settled.”
“Thank you.” The sheer weight behind that utterance of gratitude was soon followed by a second push. “Thank you so much.”
Hammer Strike frowned. “I am curious, though. What brings you over here? Last I recall, that settlement wasn’t doing horribly, at least compared to others.”
Free Market swallowed heavily. “A few months ago, we had a group of Pegasi go through the town. They commandeered most of the food stores. A few weeks after they left, Unicorns came through with a group of mercenaries. They took what we had left.” She blinked her eyes rapidly in a vain effort to stave off the tears. My mother tried to stop them and…” She gave a dry sob. “They cut her down.”
“Oh, I’m … I’m sorry. I didn’t hear.” Hammer Strike’s frown deepened. He was positive the mare wasn’t lying. “She was a good mare.”
“Thank you,” she said. “She told me if anything happened that I should head out this way. She said you never cheated anyone, you always paid as long as the price was fair, and you didn’t cause trouble. I … I couldn’t stay there after she died.”
“That’s fair.” Hammer Strike nodded. “Head back inside. I’ll deal with the request personally.”
She thanked him again and strode quietly back into the hut. A few minutes later, the Unicorn stepped out with one of the Earth Pony mares following behind. They looked around carefully as they approached him.
“Hello. This is your farm, I take it?” the Unicorn asked. His voice carried a slightly posh accent. His fur was steel-gray with white mane and tail, and he held a cutie mark with a mortar and pestle.
“Bit more to it, but yeah,” Hammer Strike replied with a shrug.
“My name is Poultice Solution, and this is my … my.” He looked around the area, as if to affirm they weren't being observed. “Well, this is my wife, Bella Curador.”
Hammer Strike raised a brow at the pause before humming.
“We were told that perhaps the taboo might be less … offensive here,” he noted.
Bella was a sweet mare with a lustrous silvery-white mane that curled around a pale purple face. She smiled weakly at Hammer Strike and pulled self-consciously on a bandana that held her mane in place.
“No real taboo here on that.” Hammer Strike shrugged. “If you love someone, nobody here will care what tribe or race they are.”
“You mean it?” Bella asked. Her voice held just a hint of a country twang, and her soft green eyes were practically luminous with the hope that radiated there.
“I am currently raising a Dragon who is sleeping on my back at this moment, have two Alicorn daughters, and have Gryphons working within the settlement’s walls,” Hammer Strike commented. “You won’t find anywhere more accepting, I can assure you of that. What are the two of you here for?”
“We heard your community could have use of some Ponies with a knowledge for herbs,” Poultice said.
“Those happen to be our specialty. Potions, soups, salves, poultices, reagents, we know them all and grow them all,” Bella said.
Hammer Strike hummed. “That would certainly prove useful for the settlement. Do you happen to have a sample of a salve or potion for me to check?”
“I’m … afraid not,” Bella admitted as her face fell. “Our hut was attacked. We barely escaped with our supply of seeds and roots to replant.”
“If you can give a sample to Binding or myself, we can further this development. You can stay in the hut until you can provide a sample to determine your skills.”
Poultice, however, had left the spot. His horn glowed as he worked through the wild plants nearby. He let out a shout of elation after coming upon a small herb with long oval leaves with serrated edges. He proceeded to remove three leaves and crush them in his magic as finely as he could. Then he levitated a canteen to him from his wife's back and opened it before squeezing the crushed leaves as tightly as he could manage. The scent of peppermint wafted around them as the oil dripped into the canteen. He closed it again and shook vigorously for a minute before opening it and sniffing. He then nodded and presented it to Hammer Strike. “Simple spring water with an extract of peppermint, a wonderful potion that soothes all manner of stomach pains from indigestion to ulcers.”
Hammer Strike scanned over the contents briefly before nodding. “Good example on short notice.” He hummed. “I’ll bring this to Binding, and we’ll see if we can get things going. You’ll have to prove further points of knowledge later down the line, but we can certainly get things rolling.”
Tears welled up in Bella’s eyes. “Thank you.”
“We’re gonna be okay, love.” Poultice smiled at his wife as he hugged her.
“Feel free to rest up inside. Binding will send some requests later, and we’ll get things underway.” He gave a soft smile as the two made their way inside, leaning against each other.
Several minutes later a diminutive Earth Pony mare walked out, followed by a larger stallion who seemed to be almost trotting to keep up with her.
“Good day,” she spoke in a surprising lilting brogue. “My name’s Bertha, and this is my mate Long John. There is not even a guess you're the big stallion about here.”
“What gave it away?”
“You mean aside from the fact that they’ve kept our flanks in that place up until you show up?” she asked.
“I mean, they would have let you leave.” Hammer Strike shrugged. “Jokes aside, what brings you this way?”
“We heard that you’ve been takin’ in Ponies, and safe to assume you don’t always have houses ready for them to stay in. Seems an enterprising pair of Ponies could do well setting up an inn. With your permission, of course.”
Hammer Strike hummed for a moment before shrugging. “Yeah, I don’t think we have an inn yet.”
“We’d set up a kitchen. Long John over there cooks. Don’t you, John?” She looked to the stallion.
Long John nodded slowly as he met Hammer Strike’s gaze with an equally impassive stare.
“Don’t mind John. He’s not much of a talker.” She grinned. “I’m sure your workers could use a place to go and eat after a hard day's work.”
Hammer Strike nodded. “Yeah, they definitely would. All right. I’ll bring this over to Binding and he’ll progress things further.”
“We’ll look forward to hearing from you!” She grinned and stuck out her hoof.
Hammer Strike shook on it. “You’re free to rest within the provided housing until things get rolling.”
“Aye. Thank you very much.” And with that, she headed back to the door with her husband in tow.
“Things are certainly going to be interesting around here, aren’t they?” He questioned Yharon on his back. The little Dragon just yawned and slumped onto his back again, still sleepy from his nap.
Celestia sighed and winced as she peeled the padding ever so slowly off her aching body. Once again, Luna’s blows had proven too strong, and left the mare with several patches she knew would blossom into some very nice bruises within the hour. On the plus side, at least Luna hadn’t come close to breaking her leg. She said she’d been practicing control with Hammer Strike. Apparently, whatever the exercise was was doing the trick. The cold air had settled in again as barren trees waved and thrashed in the wind. Tiny patterns of frost had scrawled themselves over bark and leaves alike.
“Well now, I see Luna hasn’t changed,” a familiar voice spoke as motes of blue magic collected on her bruises and a pleasant warmth began working into them, causing them to start to fade. “I probably should have taught you to reinforce the padding with magic before I left.” In Celestia's vision, a tattered homespun cloak billowed in the breeze.
“Clover?” Celestia gaped. “Clover, is that really you?”
“Yes, Celestia, it’s me.” The Unicorn lowered her head to grin at the Alicorn. She’d changed slightly since their last meeting. Her eyes seemed deeper, tired-looking. And small worry lines were already present on her too-young face.
“What brings you by after so short a time? I thought you were going to tour the world.”
“That's a story best told to your father. Where would I find him?”
“Difficult to say. We did just finish sparring, though, so I would think he’s probably either gone to the forge, spoiling Yharon, or doing the rounds through the city to check on the settlers. Would you like me to come with you? We can catch up as we walk.”
“If you want.” Clover smiled. “Put your things away, and I’ll wait here.”
It didn’t take long for Celestia to complete the necessary actions, and soon the two were strolling down the road together. Celestia looked curiously at the mare. “You know, I can’t quite put my hoof on it, but something feels different about you.”
“It’s been a long few years. That's all,” Clover said as they walked.
“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather rest a little first? You look tired.”
“I can rest later. Best let your father know I’m here first.”
“If you say so.”
“Besides, I’d like to find out who this Yharon is.”
Celestia giggled. “You’ve already met. He just hadn’t hatched yet.”
The pair finally found Hammer Strike in the main kitchen, where a young Dragon sat feasting happily on the tiny scraps he offered it while he worked. The scent of aromatic herbs wafted from a bubbling pot to flood the room and trigger a very loud groan from Celestia’s stomach to announce their presence.
Hammer Strike glanced behind himself, his eyes widening slightly as he noticed Clover. “You’ve returned?”
“I have, indeed,” she said. “This time, probably for longer.”
“Guest room is still open. Almost converted it into a room for young Yharon here, but I figured it best to keep up, just in case,” Hammer Strike replied. “You’re always welcome.”
“Thank you. Things are … bad back in the kingdom.”
“Considering the recent news I had heard from other settlements, I’d believe it.”
“The nobility is running rampant, the king is dead, Platinum has no control.” She shook her head. “I couldn’t stay there. I couldn’t be part of that.”
“Sadly, it was only a matter of time,” Hammer Strike replied with a sigh. “They’ve turned into a greedy lot. And it will tear them apart.”
“I—” Clover took a deep breath. “I hereby request to defect to you.”
Hammer Strike paused and turned to look Clover square in the face. “You … do realize what that means for you, correct?”
“It means I am renouncing the Unicorn kingdom and my citizenship therein.”
Hammer Strike looked her over a few times. “I’ll have to start looking for more guards, then. Because they won’t let you go that easily. That, I am certain of.” He sighed. “Are you sure of this choice?”
“Your power or your people?” Clover asked him.
Hammer Strike looked her over once more before giving a small smile. “Yeah, you’ve definitely done some growing.”
“There’s been a lot of growing that's needed to be done.”
“That’s good.” He gave a soft smile. “As I stated before, Clover, you’re welcome any time.”
Over the last several months, the reports had been coming in the same. At night, mysterious Ponies had been sighted at the far border of Unity’s lands. At first, they’d just been observing, but recently things had escalated. There’d been a few attacks on the hunting and foraging parties. No one had been hurt yet, but two Gryphons were injured after a more recent run-in. If things were allowed to continue in this manner, they would end badly.
But the figures hiding in the bushes weren’t considering any of this as they waited. Slitted eyes glowed as they scanned the area, waiting to see if the way was clear to hunt.
When everything seemed safe, they moved. They didn’t get more than a couple of steps before a bright light cut through the darkness. Most managed to look away in time, but one was blinded by the light and collapsed from the pain while the others fled.
“Well, one’s good enough,” Hammer Strike commented as he locked the Thestral in place thaumically. “I didn’t anticipate Thestrals to be this brave in this territory.”
The Thestral currently blinded and in pain didn’t fully realize she was restrained, and attempted to rub its eyes.
“Repeatedly blink. Rubbing won’t help them right now,” Hammer Strike noted as he drew near.
The Thestral began to do so, moaning in pain as she did.
“Sorry to have to go through such drastic measures, but I wasn’t left much of a choice.” He sat down near the intruder. “I’ve got some questions for you. Answer them truthfully, and I can let you go practically within the hour. Sound like a fine deal?”
“Fine,” the thestral said. “Ask your questions, Pony.”
“What’s your reason for attacking those gathering and hunting near here? I understand you all need to hunt as well, but not your reasoning for this level of conflict.”
“You Ponies came to our lands. This was our hunting ground.”
“So, your tribes are nearby, then.” Hammer Strike hummed.
“Some tribes hunt here. Some hunt elsewhere.”
“Then perhaps we can talk things over, trade, or something along those lines,” Hammer Strike thought aloud.
“Perhaps,” the Thestral said noncommittally.
“I would assume trade is better than killing anyone who comes here, yes?”
“Not my choice.”
“Where’s the tribe’s primary cave located? I can’t exactly go talk to them without a location.”
“I can’t tell you.”
Hammer Strike sighed. “Then where can I find them individually?”
“... I can take you,” the prisoner offered.
Hammer Strike hummed. “I’ll need to prepare myself, if that’s the case.” he noted. “Which means, you’ll be contained until then. Of course, you’ll still get food and such.”
The Thestral glared at him but chose to say nothing.
“Think of me as you will. But despite all the hostility caused, I’ll still treat you like an average captive.” Hammer Strike shrugged. “Hurricane, prep for transport.”
The Thestral remained silent the entire time she was packed up for transport.
“I’ve got to get to work. Place her in containment and have a watch set for her.” Hammer Strike sighed. “I’ll be as quick as I can, so I leave her in your hooves, Hurricane.”
Hurricane offered a short salute and they parted ways.
Hammer Strike sighed in frustration as he looked to his current creation. In preparation for dealing with the Thestrals, he’d used what knowledge he had to at least make himself more appealing than the appearance of some noble.
He knew they were warrior-like in these times, so some armor would definitely be useful, though nothing crazy. And a good silver weapon to symbolize the moon and the purity necessary to battle creatures of the night. That would suffice. The silver weapon, however, was the greatest pain of a project he had ever worked on, barring perhaps the Ursa armor for Luna. But this definitely came in at a close second.
Sure, he could have used some other materials, but silver had an innate difference in terms of appearance and ability. He didn’t have access to a form of ebony. And even then, he was unsure on what other metals would work for it.
He needed to go through such an amount of preparation just due to the fact that he had to make a good impression, or things would go south with the entirety of the Thestral nation. It didn’t help that he learned that they apparently settled near the area first, meaning they already held some amount of ill will toward him and the settlement for choosing to build there.
The Diamond Dogs had held up to their arrangement, giving Hammer Strike plenty of ore to work with. Materials definitely weren’t the issue.
The real problem lay in the purity of the silver. Every little interaction he made with the blade would alter it. The end result was roughly an eighty-five percent purity, which, while good and all, didn’t feel right to him.
He sighed to himself once more before settling on it. He’d already spent nearly a week and a half on the project, and his captive was clearly annoyed by the fact. He sheathed the blade and took hold of his equipment.
Upon reaching the main floor of his house, he noted Celestia and Luna off to the side, conversing about dinner from what he could tell. “Girls, it’s time for me to make that trip.”
“How long will you be gone?” Luna asked.
“Honestly, I’m unsure.” Hammer Strike frowned. “A month at most.”
“And you want us to keep house in the meantime, I assume?” Celestia asked.
“More than that this time. Should questions or requests come through, I’d like you to assist in looking into it. If need be, Clover, Binding, and even Hurricane can help.”
Celestia nodded. “We can do that.”
“Be safe, Daddy.” Luna wrapped her forelegs around him in a hug.
Hammer Strike hugged Luna and Celestia as well before exiting the house and making his way to the local containment rooms. They weren’t jail cells just yet, but it was progress.
“It’s time?” Hurricane asked as he approached.
Hammer Strike simply nodded in return.
Hurricane nodded and retrieved the prisoner. The Thestral had been placed in wing wing binders to avoid any attempts to fly away. She glared flatly at Hammer Strike as she stepped into the light of day.
“Pleasant accommodations?” Hammer Strike asked.
She said nothing.
Hammer Strike shrugged. “The sooner we arrive at our destination, the quicker this will be dealt with.” He hummed. “We’ll remove the binds when I know you won’t run, or when we arrive. Whichever comes first.”
“This will take several days’ travel on hoof.”
“That’s perfectly fine. Lead the way when you’re ready.”
“Very well, Pony. I hope you’re ready. Me being your prisoner won’t guarantee safety.”
Hammer Strike shrugged. “Doesn’t bother me in the slightest.”
As predicted, it was several days later when the pair finally saw signs of a village. They’d been followed since the fourth day out. He’d known that almost instantly, but so far, their followers had kept their distance. As a precaution, Hammer Strike had not let himself sleep during the journey.
Now, however, as he saw the beginnings of wooden longhouses in the distance, their followers didn’t bother to hide themselves. Of course, they were thestrals, seven to be exact. A fair mixture of mares and stallions that wore no armor but were armed with bows and spears. They all carried a somewhat familiar-looking throwing axe that Hammer Strike guessed to be the prototype for the tomahawk that all Thestrals carried in the present.
They all had bits of their manes missing, which Hammer Strike’ implants informed him had been plucked out purposefully. Each wore at least a small amount of deerskin on their flanks. Their hooves were wrapped in what resembled moccasins, and mare and stallion alike had shell necklaces and earrings.
More adults became visible as they got closer. Children were rounded up and hidden away. By the time Hammer Strike found himself close to the village, he was the center of a sea of slitted eyes that were all fixed on him.
Before they entered the village proper, they were stopped and his guide shared several rapid conversations in a language that Hammer Strike’s implant seemed to be unaware of. One of the Thestrals pointed a spear to Hammer Strike’s weapons.
“They want you to disarm. You’ll get your things back when you leave.”
Hammer Strike shrugged simply and removed the greatsword off his back before stabbing it into the ground. Afterward, he took Ulkrusher off his back and placed it to his right with a heavy thud.
Once they’d confirmed he had discarded his weapons, the Thestrals nodded and signalled them inwards.
The village consisted of a series of longhouses, each of varying lengths and heights. Smoke curled up from some while others remained dark, either unoccupied or with sleeping residents. Bark had been pasted together in interwoven layers against the spines of carved wooden supports bent and tied together in ribbed arches. Gardens flourished with corn, beans, and squashes of varying sizes and types, and the distinct smell of smoked fish permeated the air, most likely from attempts at preservation via a smokehouse. Sheets of hide were stretched tightly on a tanning rack to dry in the open air and sun. What few Ponies Hammer Strike could see kept their distance as he and his escort passed through the small community. Given the fact he was a complete stranger, it was only natural.
The Chieftain’s home was located by a massive fire pit that had been dug into the earth and ringed with carefully placed stones to prevent stray embers from igniting their structures. Much like the other dwellings, it was simple, built next to the largest structure, which functioned as the great lodge for the elders to meet and the tribe to gather for meetings in the winter. The interior of the structure was well furnished with furs and hide to guard against the cold and provide certain aesthetic appeal. Crude benches and stools were scattered through the structure, awaiting a guest to sit on them.
At first, it looked almost as though they had walked in on a dire wolf. The gray fur draped over the chief’s form to insulate against what chill remained in the air. Two wings stretched wide as the figure rose from the floor. A bowl of herbs burned slowly to fill the room with a calming scent. A hoof reached up to pull the wolf’s head back and reveal a long gray mane with streaks of faded black and silver that fell back in brittle waves. Her eyes were wild and piercing as she turned to take in the newcomer. The familiar gold iris was rimmed by a halo of blue that bespoke wisdom and unwavering strength in equal measure. The fur on her neck and chest was the midnight-blue much of her kind seemed to carry as a trait.
The mare looked first to Hammer Strike, then to his guide. Her voice was soft, almost musical as she spoke with the former captive. Hammer Strike listened patiently as his implants’ translation algorithm went to work, and soon he began to understand.
“I was captured during the hunt. He demanded I bring him here in return for my freedom,” his captive admitted.
The chieftess’ eyes narrowed. “Is that so? That is unusually careless of you, Russet.”
“He used strange magic. He made the sun appear at night,” she explained. “I was not prepared for the pain.”
“I do not see a horn on this one. Their connection is with the land, not unlike our own. If what you say is true, how could he have accomplished what takes many of the horned ones to fulfill each day?”
“I do not know,” she answered. “What little I saw of his village had many of the horned ones and winged ones as well as the land ones coming to him as their chieftain. It was strange.”
“Were you harmed?”
“Not after that flash of light, but I was detained, and my wings have been bound.”
“Well, he has met me. The agreement is fulfilled. Ask him what he wants with me, and carry my request he free your wings.”
She turned to Hammer Strike and spoke in Equish. “She wishes to know what you want with her, and requests you free my wings now as agreed.”
Hammer Strike simply tapped his hoof against her restraints and they snapped off. The task had been performed thaumically, but the end result made it seem like a simple binding being undone to an outsider. “I simply want to make a deal. No more conflict, and an exchange of resources.”
His guide stretched her wings as she relayed his words.
“The wolf only attacks another when it is threatened. Why would my tribe seek to harm yours, unless they strayed too far into our territory?” the chieftess asked.
“Without me knowing, I have lived on and established myself in a section of land far away from the three nations currently at each other’s throats. During my work and stay, there were no Thestrals within the lands for many years. Only recently did you start showing up. I don’t place blame on your end, but I feel we need to come to some arrangement to have things settled, whether it be through a trade of food for resources or otherwise.”
“And where is this ‘section of land’ you speak of?”
“Southwest of here, roughly a three-to-four-day trip by hoof.”
“The horned ones have been known to exploit and expand beyond their bounds for no reason, save to satisfy their own greed. What guarantee can you give me that the same will not occur with those who dwell with you?”
“Because each of them willingly accepted a contract binding them to it,” he explained. “Should the contract be broken, they will be dealt with. Harshly.”
“By one alone?” she asked skeptically.
“If need be, yes.” He leveled his gaze. “I’ve killed Minotaurs, Gryphons, even Dragons. No matter what stands in my way, it will be dealt with. Directly.”
The two maintained a steady gaze one with another as the chieftess considered his words. Finally, she nodded. “Your eyes are those of a leader. An alpha knows how to recognize one of a similar rank, albeit from a different pack. If you can ensure this contract is maintained, then I am at least willing to allow you the chance to know us.”
“I appreciate the chance. I take it I will need to converse with the others individually to get this dealt with?”
“If you mean the rest of my tribe, a council meeting will ensure they know.”
“And as an outsider, I am unable to step hoof there, correct?”
“It is better that you not be present, yes. While it is true that this agreement has potential to grow, it will require time to know and trust you and yours first.”
He sighed. “I should be able to camp out some distance from here for the amount of time needed.”
“You need not remain, if that is not your wish. As it is with you and yours, so it is with mine. My word is law for so long as it remains just and I overcome those who would usurp my place in the pack. They will listen.”
“Whatever works best.”
Hammer Strike had camped in the woods for roughly two weeks before finally catching wind of the Wolf Chieftess’ position. She was en route back from their clan meeting, and he was finally due to get the results of that meeting.
Within the next hour, she arrived at the camp with company in tow. Some, he could recognize as those within the tribe. But the others held a different air. They bore respective furs from different alignments, revealing to him that they were either part of or the leaders of two of the other tribes.
The first was a larger stallion. He was draped in a garment almost like a cape made of a patchwork of animal skins and lined with thick fur. His mane had been grown out to resemble a lion’s, and his especially sharp fangs were capped with ivory tips.
The other was a mare wearing nothing except a single saddlebag. Opposite it on the harness was a single wooden round shield. A spear was strapped to her back. Her body was a criss cross of various scars from numerous battles.
“I get the feeling this isn’t going to be a pleasant meeting,” Hammer Strike muttered to himself.
A different mare than his previous guide approached sternly. “The chieftains have decided that you should move your borders away from the Wolf Tribe’s territory.”
“By how much?” he questioned simply.
“Fifteen miles.”
“Not possible,” Hammer Strike replied flatly. “We have too many individuals for a space that confined.”
“Then the situation cannot be reconciled.”
“There are multiple ways that it can be, including a trade of food and resources.”
“You built into our territory. You and yours have done so for years now. No more.”
“I built into those lands well over twenty years ago, and with no sign of a Thestral in miles. Where were you then?”
“Hunting grounds must be rotated to maintain the prey in each. The Wolf had moved to another hunting ground when you arrived.”
“Then we’re at an impasse. I can’t move. Instead, I can only make offers, including food, since the hunting grounds are currently disrupted.”
“Go make your offers to the bear.” The translator mirrored the scoff the stallion gave when he said this. “You have our answer.”
“Bear … Tribe?”
“The great bear! The walking and fallen god!” all the thestrals seemed to take offense to his suggestion.
“Fine, then. Where?”
“Leave.” It wasn’t a request.
Hammer Strike shook his head. “And I figured your tribe to be brave,” he commented simply as he gathered his supplies before calling Ulkrusher to his hoof and placing it on his back. “I offer assistance, and you respond like this.”
Hammer Strike ignored any further comment from the others before leaving them behind. It was foolish, and at this rate, it would take him plenty of work to establish some stability between the Thestrals and Unity.
As the village was nearly gone from sight behind him, a few small pebbles hit his shoulder from beside the path. A hoof signalled him to follow.
He sighed and started to follow, figuring he had nothing to lose.
He was led through the forest until he came to a cliff wall. An arrow was left on the ground pointing inwards. He continued to follow the trail.
Once he was decently inside the cave, something was thrown in front of the entrance enshrouding it. Nearby, a smaller Thestral mare revealed herself. She wore a shaggy leather outfit with beads and small glass vials tied to it. Her eyes burned a deep green, and a blow pipe lay in a leather sheath at her side.
“Proud, the Manticore and the Lion. Always proud. Sometime proud do them harm,” she said, eyeing him curiously. “You are strange Pony,” she remarked as she motioned toward his glowing eyes.
“Not the first time I’ve heard such things,” Hammer strike replied. “You have my attention.”
“How you know about Bear Tribe?” she asked. “Most Pony not tell Thestral apart, nevermind tribe,” she continued in her broken Equish.
“These eyes see more than most.” Hammer Strike shrugged. “To put it simply,” he smiled to reveal his canines, “I’m quite familiar with the system.”
“Yes, Asp sees. Very well. Asp will help strange Pony.” She smiled. “Asp will tell you what to do.”
Hammer Strike raised a brow and hummed questioningly.
Asp removed her blowpipe from its sheath and used it to poke seven holes into the ground in a circular fashion. “You know seven tribes. Manticore, Lion, and Wolf in alliance. Once three decide something, one single member cannot change decision.” She linked three of the dots. “Other chiefs not involved. Not their business. Chiefs only come together if there is trouble all chiefs must agree on.” She looked up to see if he was following.
“So, I have to get them all to agree.”
“Trouble come up, chiefs have to meet in first cave to decide together how to handle. Trouble needs to involve all tribes. Now your trouble only involves three tribes.” She began linking other dots together. “You go to other tribes, involve them, eventually involve all tribes. You become issue. They meet at cave, and you go to make them listen. All chiefs decide Pony deal good, Lion, Wolf, and Manticore cannot argue.”
“So, I’ll need something to sweeten the deal.” Hammer Strike sighed in aggravation.
“Most Thestral used to worship moon. Now many Thestral worship walking fallen god,” she said almost sadly. “Walking fallen god bad for Thestral. Large big bear covered in stars. Mostly sleep. But when wake, take many Thestral for prey. Kill bear, you scare Thestral.”
Hammer Strike sighed. “An ursa. How large are we talking?”
“Big big. Biggest star bear,” she said, holding her hooves up as though it would be helpful.
“An ursa major, then. Delightful.” He sighed again. “Possible, but I’ll need to prepare myself.”
“Pony good. Pony keep other Pony from destroying Thestrals. Thestral strong now, but Pony have more magic and shiny weapon. Thestral strength no matter long. Pony keep Thestral safe?”
“As safe as I can make it.”
“Pony have,” her lips contorted as she struggled to form the word, “char-coal?” She waved her blowpipe like a pen. “Flimsy stick thing Ponies use? For,” she hesitated. “Draw … ing?”
Hammer Strike produced the requested item and a piece of parchment.
Asp took them instantly and began scrawling over the page. After several minutes, Hammer Strike realized the mare was sketching a map, a surprisingly detailed one at that. There were no notes or names, just arrows and vague markers to indicate where they led, but it was legible enough to follow.
Asp shoved the parchment and the remaining charcoal back into Hammer Strike’s hooves. “Take. Will lead you to other tribes. Will lead you to star bear.”
Hammer Strike nodded. “I appreciate it.”
“Good luck, Pony. Moonlight protect you.”
Hammer Strike found himself unable to resist blinking, despite his augmented eyes. When he did, the little Thestral was gone. No hoofprints remained. Only the drawing she’d made in the ground and the map in his hoof lent any credence she’d been there to begin with.
He frowned and scanned the area thaumically. There was a space where no aspect resided before quickly being filled by aer. It wasn’t a teleportation of some kind. And it wasn’t a quick relocation either. It was simply a case of nonexistence.
After a moment, he sighed. “So, the game of chess is getting too boring for you up there, is it?” he muttered.
Hammer Strike set off from that point, dedicating his time to reaching each destination as quickly as possible. At each location, he would reach into his pouches and pull out a small metal spike before embedding it into the ground. He didn’t have too much time to linger, and would need a faster mode of transportation for when he returned.
The first tribe he located was the Dragon Tribe. They were proud, but also fierce, with a bloodthirst that shocked Hammer Strike. Their territory included bits of the far coast. As such, many carried shark-toothed swords aside from the throwing axe. They danced war dances and fought each other constantly.
When he’d found them, they didn’t even consider him a threat until he, on a hunch, challenged a warrior to a fight. The leader, a large stallion, watched impassively up until Hammer Strike stood over his fallen enemy, making it quite clear he would rip the stallion’s still-beating heart from his chest if it would get him his audience. The Dragon Tribe leader heard him out. Surprisingly, the leader even nodded to the Pony’s objections and spat at the Manticore and Lion leaders’ pride. But he would not involve himself, and considered the issue unworthy of his tribe. Hammer Strike simply remarked it as their loss before leaving.
The Viper tribe traded with many local towns in their area for things they considered luxury goods. Wine, spices, certain types of fruit. The chieftess remarked how, had it been her, she’d happily have parlayed with him. But again, it was not her land, so it was not her business. However, she did promise to send a messenger to the Wolf to better explain this new thing called trade. Hammer Strike nodded and thanked her for her time.
The Fox Tribe was an odd experience for Hammer Strike by comparison. Like all Thestrals, they were a warrior tribe. However, years of war and peace between the buffalos to their south had given them a broader view on how to work with others. He was welcomed into their village and sat before their chieftess, a pretty young mare with a surprising fiery red mane, a rarity amongst thestrals the tribe prized heavily. She heard him out and sympathized with his story. She admitted and cursed her own impotence to do anything yet, but greatly encouraged his plan, pledging her support when the chieftains finally met. She had family in the Wolf Tribe, and would attempt to soften the three leaders in the meantime. Hammer Strike appreciated her pledge.
The Bear had neither been particularly inviting nor hostile when he’d shown up. As he entered the village, he could see why as he noted several stallions and mares from different tribes living actively in the village with Thestral spouses. Hybrid foals played happily beside purebred Thestrals in the streets. The Bear didn’t think him worth noting because they had become accustomed to other Ponies and accepted them heartily.
Their chieftess was an old mare so ancient and tiny that she practically swam in her robes of bear fur as she gave attention to each of her grandfoals, referring to them as her cubs in turn. She found the other Thestrals' reactions to be very foolish, indeed. Peace had ended the recent winter that had hurt so many, and peace, she had stated, was the way forward. She offered Hammer Strike tea and spoke kindly to him about the issue in great depth. She would most vehemently support him in the coming meeting, and informed him she had already been called to the meeting in question. She explained such a meeting could only happen on the full moon, and their current moon had already started to wane. He had about a month to prepare himself.
In the meantime, the elderly mare promised she would do all she could, and offered him to attend as her guest, and thus be under her protection.
“It will certainly prove useful,” he commented. “I need time to prepare myself, so I must be off as soon as I can.”
She hissed at an attendant nearby, who brought her something wrapped in leather, which she passed. “Until the meeting, this will keep you safe. It is a sacred thing in our race, and the bearer is to be known as a friend and owed respect.” She offered it to him. Inside was a simple piece of obsidian shaped roughly like a shield. A bear had been carved on its face for all to see.
“Thank you.” Hammer Strike gave a nod. “Until next time.”
“Moonlight keep you and protect you.” She nodded her head, and he departed.
Hammer Strike wasted no time in returning home, using a thaumic rift as soon as he was out of sight. Once he drew near the gates, they opened, and Hurricane greeted him. Hammer Strike gave him a brief reply and set off for home, then hastened to the workshop, only to find Luna working away on her own project. She was so focused on the work that she didn’t notice him enter and start putting his equipment away.
Content to leave her to her devices, Hammer Strike began compiling a list of equipment that he would need for the fight with the Ursa in his head.
Ulkrusher was a definite. And a greatsword or two, depending on how rough the hide would be. Spears for a longer reach. And perhaps a halberd. Javelins would help to cover his ranged options, since he wouldn’t be quick enough to use a bow. If it were an ursa minor, he could potentially silence the creature quickly and choke it out if he had something to wrap around it’s throat. A chain, perhaps. Should it prove useful, the magitech pistol would likely work as well. The folding blade was clearly too small to deal with a threat on that scale, but could prove useful in a pinch.
He continued sorting through his equipment and listing what he would need when Luna finally took note of him in the workshop.
“You’re home!” Luna smiled, but managed not to try and hug him this time, considering the crafting tables that lay between them and the oil on her smock.
“Am I? I thought I was still out conversing with the Thestrals,” Hammer Strike replied jokingly as he continued to run the computations in the background of his thoughts.
“You found a solution?”
“Correct.” He sighed. “And in turn, I have to deal with an ursa to get their attention.”
“An ursa major?” Luna asked.
“Major or mInor. Unsure at the moment, since the only response I got was ‘big.’” He shrugged.
“Make sure you bring lances,” she noted.
“Yeah, a lance would be good.” He hummed. “Perhaps a barbed weapon for grip. Throwaway weapons, of course, used to just get some mobility on it.”
“What about those spears you worked on? You know, the ones that explode?”
He shook his head. “Good for smaller targets. I doubt it’ll work well on a large scale creature unless I amp up the charge.”
“Fair enough. I’m afraid I’m not sure what else I could suggest. You know better than me, anyway.”
“It’s difficult to tell what I’ll need for a beast of this scale.” Hammer Strike frowned.
“Be careful in this fight. From what we saw in the tablets’ bestiaries, ursas are … mysterious.”
“Of course.” Hammer Strike nodded. “But I’ve seen what they’re capable of, and I know just the right amount of force needed to break those bones…”
This time, Luna gave into the impulse, though she had enough presence of thought to walk around the table before she wrapped her hooves around him.
Hammer Strike returned the hug with a small smile.
“I’ll get back to it and let you return to your preparation.” The mare released him and moved to her workbench.
Hammer Strike nodded and continued his tally.
It took two weeks for him to gather the materials to create all the weapons he needed. And finally, he had to establish a weapon storage system that allowed him to summon weapons to him, rather than carrying them all on his person.
After locking Thaumically onto each weapon, he was able to establish a technique that opened a small rift to pull weapons to his position from anywhere. It took several days to establish a perfected link to each weapon, but he managed.
His armor was another matter. He needed something perfectly balanced in terms of mobility and protection. The end result was a plate armor style with condensed plates, though slightly smaller in scale.
Weeks of work led up to this moment. He was as prepared as he could be. Ulkrusher was on his back as he bid everyone farewell once again and set off towards the Ursa cave.
It was time to show the Thestrals just how “big” a threat he could be.
Hammer Strike stood before a large mountain. It reminded him of the landmass Canterlot stood on in the future, though it was clearly too far in a different direction. Before him was a large opening. Shadows covered the walls and hid the area deeper within. He pressed on, ignoring the warning written into the cave walls, some in Thestral, others in Equestrian. He was pretty sure he even noticed one in Gryphic.
As he progressed, the cave didn’t diminish in size. Instead, it appeared to be growing in scale as he descended into the vast galleys and structures. Air moved to and fro through the cavern as the large beast within breathed. Based off the size of the cave and movement of air, he assumed it was an ursa major. It wasn’t until he finally watched a mass in the distance move that he realized his target lay before him.
Pebbles and dust had settled over it, which explained why he hadn’t realized what he’d seen yet. But looking now, he could just make out the swirls of several galaxies inside a field of black with points of light spaced out everywhere. Having worked with ursa fur before, he knew that the pelt of an ursa major generally had an accurate map of the galaxy in its fur. But this was different. If each spiral really was a galaxy, then the beast in front of him could very well have a map of the universe etched on its hide.
Given the strange movement of air, it was clear the beast was sleeping, which gave Hammer Strike a chance to take in it’s positively massive size. The beast was at the very least twice, if not thrice, the size of the largest ursa major recorded in the present. It’s fur held a few tiny markings of past injuries, but nothing that seemed to be more than a pinprick compared to its bulk. Around it’s sleeping form, bones and remains of Ponies, Gryphons, and even a Minotaur lay scattered about. Various items, weapons, uncut gemstones, and nuggets of gold and silver had been spread out, possibly as tribute given by the Thestrals themselves.
“I should have made longer chains,” Hammer Strike muttered in awe.
The beast was asleep, and perhaps there was a way to take advantage of that. He began to consider the new situation. With the beast on its chest, he could spear the heart before it woke. He also might be able to break the neck on a lucky hit with Ulkrusher, but a lucky shot wasn’t a sure thing. He was just considering the possibility of severing a limb to give himself an advantage when he realized the steady breathing had stopped.
“Oh, s—”
A prodigious amount of force slammed into his side. A moment later, he cracked the wall of the cave with his body. His entire right side throbbed with pain, and he could taste blood in his mouth.
“Oh, you’re going to be a fun one, aren’t you?”
The ursa roared in response and swiped at him again. This time, he managed to dodge just in time. He summoned one of his spears and stabbed at the paw. The beast withdrew the appendage momentarily and roared loud enough to shake the whole cavern.
Retrieving a second spear, Hammer Strike thrust up as the beast brought it’s paw down and drove the entire spear head into the pad before the haft broke. He slashing with the second spear to cut at the paw, leaving an angry red line that seemed more like a papercut than a proper wound. Another stab attempt left his spear without a head as the ursa swiped it off. The creature swept again with its paw, nearly hitting the Pony head-on, only to miss narrowly.
Clearly, the beast had the advantage like this. Hammer Strike needed more mobility than he could manage as an Earth Pony. And having given some of the Alicorn artifacts away, he no longer had the wings that had proven so useful to him in his retreat from the island. The residual energy was still present from the artifacts, however, meaning they had some imprint of that form that was still with them.
He forced energy into the artifacts with his thaumaturgy in an attempt to have them falsely apply the same ascension, albeit temporarily. Thaumic fire licked off his coat before coalescing into a translucent pair of wings on his back. They weren’t fully physical, but he could feel them actively keeping their form, pushing the air away from them.
It would work for the time being, but it was a constant drain on his energy.
He got into the air a moment before another paw swiped the area he’d been on. His movements were slow and clumsy, but he managed to keep himself in the air for short periods with his limited experience, which gave him the opportunity to climb the beast’s legs and land several hits while breaking many more spears. He left two halberd heads with the axeblade buried deep into its shoulder before it finally managed to swat him again. This time, his whole body flared with pain on impact, and he felt the thaumic field working to slowly reset his ribs.
But battle wouldn’t wait for him to heal, and the ursa wouldn’t be giving him any breaks. He ignored the pain and took to the air again. He managed to get on its back and anchored himself with a lance. The piercing weapon caused significantly more damage with its embedding, and he began slashing at the creature’s back with a greatsword in his free hoof. The beast's thick hide, however, made short work of even Hammer Strike’s smithing, and soon the great sword was dulled. Hammerstrike tossed it away just as the beast attempted to rear up. Hammer Strike buried a great axe into its body and used it with the lance to anchor himself before sinking a second great axe in farther up the creature’s back. Then, like a rock climber ascending a wall of flesh, he used the two axes in tandem to climb the mountain that was the beast's back.
When the axe blades dulled and broke, he switched to pikes. When those broke, he used the last of his spears until he finally reached the beast’s neck, dodging swipes and neutralizing the effects of momentum the creature sought to use against him along the way.
It was clear to the Pony that he wouldn’t win a battle of attrition. Even with thaumic power, the beast was too strong. He needed to end this quickly. This time, he summoned Ulkrusher and hefted the hammer above his head. He aimed for the base of the neck as he attempted to remain steady, then brought the hammer down with all the force he could muster. The beast roared in pain, but didn’t go down. Hammer Strike brought the hammer down again. The roars became louder, and the thrashing more violent.
Then hammerstrike brought the hammer down a third time, and a fourth. Just as he brought it down the fifth time, the beast swiped him with a paw, and he went flying, hitting the ground hard enough to leave a deep divot in the stone floor. He could only listen to the beast’s cries as the world swam into murky blackness, and he sank reluctantly into that place, his will still fighting, even as his body gave out.
Pensword was flabbergasted. “Did Hammerstrike teach Luna how to fight an Ursa Major without telling her?” he yelled while his wings fluttered in agitation. “And … that, that can’t be the first star beast. If it is, that means that....” He trailed off. “Why would we hide the truth? Our first great Leader was Hammer Strike? How much sway doth he wield upon the fields of time and sand?”
“This was several thousand years before the Third Gryphon War,” Grif pointed out. “History can change.”
“I know that truth. Some due to time, and some due to military secrets. But this.” He gesticulated toward the screen with a wing. “We have oral traditions for a reason, and we carve the most important stories on the rocks. If this truly is thousands of years ago, then the truth should be carved somewhere within our first caves, caves we have lost in the present. I am definitely grilling Hammer Strike when we finally rescue him. He must have an inkling of our lost heritage by the end of this, and to keep it, warts and all, away from us would be a grave injustice.” He shook his head and sputtered in frustration. “Forgive me. I’m jumping to conclusions, and my stress is causing me to slip into the old tongue.”
“We all have had much to think about for this.” Grif chuckled. “We’ll be traveling all over Equestria when this is over.”
“And beyond, I should think,” Vital noted. “Looks like he’s basically going to build a global empire by the time this is all over, or at least a coalition of governments.”
“Or he would have, if, you know, Discord didn’t come by.” Grif shrugged.
“So … why did he do what he did? Discord, I mean. He literally destroyed everything back to the Cavelands,” Pensword said.
Grif sighed. “The world may never know.”
“I suppose we could always ask him when we get back,” Vital said.
“Yeah, good luck with that. Let me know how it goes,” Grif said as he rolled his eyes and returned his attention to the screen.
Hammer Strike gasped as he sat upright, only to groan as he placed a hoof on his chest. “That’s not pleasant,” he mumbled. Looking up, he noticed that the Ursa had definitely stopped moving. And that could mean only one thing. Either it was unconscious or he had actually managed to kill it. The lack of the familiar rumble and air pressure that had cycled through the cavern on the way in soon answered that question. He’d killed it, all right.
He’d actually managed to kill it.
He took a few minutes before attempting to shift himself upright. The world spun for a moment before it settled again, but he did it. He wiped at his jaw, only to feel blood congealed in his beard.
He’d deal with it later.
He ran a self-examination and noted that most of his external injuries had closed up. Surprisingly enough, his internal ones were all right, too. There could only be one logical explanation. The thaumic field had once again saved his life while he was unconscious.
A medical diagnostic from his implants came back with a diagnosis of severe exhaustion and recommended immediate rest.
“Well, that wasn’t very pleasant,” he muttered to himself.
“Not pleasant? Buddy, if most people went through what you did, they’d be meeting their god face-to-face by now,” a somewhat familiar voice cut through the silence.
“Apparently, Slephnir likes me too much for a meeting this soon,” Hammer Strike remarked sarcastically.
“Well, credit where credit is due. it wasn’t the prettiest thing, but you did manage to kill a colossal Ursa,” a second voice chimed in. “Biggest one I think this land’s ever seen.”
Hammer Strike looked around for the source of the voices. It wasn’t until he noticed two gleaming dots farther in the cave near one of the walls that he realized it must have been from over there. He rolled his shoulders in an attempt to relieve some tension before investigating the voices properly.
As he drew near, he noted a familiar-looking blade carefully sat against the cave wall. It took him a few seconds to recognize Derflinger. The second thing he noticed was that the two golden glowing spots in the cave were actually the eyes of a decapitated Unicorn’s head.
Whoever it was, they’d had their horn broken off. The head had light brown fur with a darker brown beard and no mane, whatsoever. The only thing that was strange about the head was that the flesh wasn’t rotted, despite the neck wound looking closed up.
“I know. I look great for a talking head, don’t I?” the head suddenly spoke, and Hammer Strike had to hold in his reflex to strike it.
“You’re a talking head … and a talking sword.” While the head was new, he knew better than to tempt fate by revealing his knowledge of Deflinger openly.
“Correct,” the head responded. “The name’s Mimir, smartest stallion alive.”
“Call me Derflinger, partner,” the sword said. Hammer Strike noted that his translation augment did, indeed, convert the name to ‘Smartass.’
“I get the feeling you hoped I couldn’t translate it,” Hammer Strike commented as he took hold of Derflinger.
“Translate what?” the sword asked, playing ignorance.
“Nothing to worry about, Smartass.” Hammer Strike chuckled. “I take it you two want out of here, then? I can’t see either of you being content to remain.”
“What gave that away?” Derflinger asked.
“The fact I removed your entertainment.”
“Just because you removed our entertainment doesn’t mean I want to go,” Mimir replied. “What could you offer?”
“Uh.…” He looked to the head. “A cushion that you can rest on instead of the cave floor?”
“Sold!” Mimir replied instantly.
“Just like that?”
“Lad, I’ve been sat in this cave for such a long time, I actively don’t recall how I got here.” Mimir sighed. “You could have offered me fresh air and I would have accepted. I just wanted to give you a hard time.”
“Fair enough,” Hammer Strike commented as he looked around himself. He didn’t have any straps or anything to help him out with the two of them, and he already had to establish a method of moving the ursa. After searching through the offerings and the remains of corpses, he found several straps from old equipment and thaumically created a new length for him to work with from it.
He made a small sling to work with Derflinger’s sheath, and a small strap off the side to fasten around Mimir’s head and hold it to his side or back. After fastening the two to him, he looked to the Ursa once again. “Now to work on this thing.”
“You’re probably going to have to work bit by bit if you don’t have an army sitting outside,” Mimir commented.
“That’s one method, yeah.” He frowned at it. It would take weeks to clear this thing out, and he was easily a week out from home. Sure, he took a shortcut to get here, but….
He stopped and thought things over. His thaumic field had recovered decently after the combat, meaning he’d been out for some time. He had marked some of the empty fields near his territory for teleportation if he needed to get there quickly. If he could at least move most of the corpse, it should be fine.
After thinking over the properties of the gate he’d need to open, he collected a few small objects and offerings for himself before stepping in front of the beast once more. He took a breath and focused on his markers to open a gate. He growled to himself as he forced the portal to expand as large as he could. Once the passage had been established and properly anchored, flames licked off his coat before strands spread out and began to encompass the ursa.
“You can’t be serious, lad,” Mimir commented. “You plan on pulling the whole thing?”
“Correct.” Hammer Strike grunted as the straps finished forming. He shifted on his hooves briefly and was answered with the slow but subtle grating of the Ursa’s body.
He could move it.
He growled to himself as he dragged the behemoth inch by inch toward the gate. It took every ounce of his strength to get the beast moving, but eventually he passed through to the other side, revealing a familiar bright landscape before him. He was just south of his border.
“By Sleipnir’s beard,” Mimir spoke in awe.
Hammer Strike ignored him as he continued to pull, and soon after the Ursa began to come through. It took roughly ten minutes of pulling before it finally fully cleared the gateway. The portal snapped shut immediately afterward with a loud crack as Hammer Strike dropped to his knees. He took heavy breaths as he tried to stabilize himself before standing once again and pulling the carcase toward his settlement.
“Father!” Luna landed on the ground nearby. “What in Faust’s name were you doing?”
“Teleporting a corpse,” Hammer Strike replied in between breaths.
“Why didn’t you just cut it apart and transport the pieces?” Luna asked exasperated.
“Same energy cost,” he replied simply. “It would have been the same result either way.”
Clover appeared moments later in a flash of light. “You killed a star bear?”
“Ursa, yeah.” Hammer Strike let the thaumic straps vanish. “Not quite a minor or major. I have no idea what this one is,” he said as he slowly stabilized his breathing.
“What in Faust’s name is going on here?” Celestia asked as she glided down next to the behemoth and her father. “Why did you bring home such a large kill? And more importantly, why are you carrying a severed head?”
“It’s Mimir,” Hammer Strike gestured toward the head. “As for the ursa, it’s because I’ve still got plenty of work to put in to deal with the Thestrals. Killing their god seemed like a good start.”
“You what?”
“He said he killed their god,” Mimir repeated. “Not really a god in the first place, but certainly powerful. Oh, you should have seen it.…”
Naturally, this resulted in a round of screaming and one, “Ooh, ooh, say something else!” from Luna.
“Something else,” Mimir commented simply.
“Why did that dead thing talk? Dead things aren’t supposed to talk!” Celestia said frantically.
“It’s uncommon,” Clover said, “but not unheard of. Although severed talking heads tend to be evil.”
“Lass, I’ve got a broken horn, am completely incapable of using magic, and am currently stuck to this one’s side,” Mimir commented. “You really think I can do much about that?”
“That's fair, I suppose,” Clover said.
“Clover, do me a favor. Get Momonga, gather some hunters and whoever else, and clean up this corpse,” Hammer Strike commented. “Because I’m going to be honest with you. For the first time in literal years, I’m tired.”
Clover nodded before teleporting away.
“Now.” Hammer Strike started walking towards Unity. “Girls, could you both go prep our medical supplies? I’m not bleeding, but I should at least clean these wounds.”
Celestia stuttered with wide eyes, leaving Luna to be the one to lead her away and likely slap some sense into her after they got clear of the talking head. A familiar shout of pain soon confirmed that suspicion.
“Say, does the cushion come blood-free?” Mimir questioned.
“Not if you ask a question like that again.”
“Fair enough.”
Hammer Strike sighed to himself as he walked to the mine. Apparently, Momonga had cleared a large section of it for his own uses, and was able to insulate it. The meat was stored within while the pelts and bones were stored in a separate chamber nearby. By this point, Hammer Strike had roughly a week and a half before the next meeting with the Thestrals.
Upon entering the mines, he quickly diverted his path to a nearby section cleared out with a proper door in place. He knocked on it and waited for the Minotaur to answer.
The door swung open moments later, and the undead peered out from it. “Ah, you arrived.” He moved aside to let Hammer Strike in.
Hammer Strike nodded as he entered. “I need to gather some materials.”
“I suspected as much. The bones and hide of this creature are … astoundingly sturdy. Even after being dead for more than a few days, it shows no sign of rot or degradation.” He led the Pony inside, where the pelt had been cut into several dozen bolts of fabric that had been stacked neatly. The bones had been sorted by size and type. “I wonder if you might be willing to part with the skull?”
“I think I need one of the fangs. It’s probably the best to make something with.” Hammer Strike hummed. “Unless you have a better suggestion?”
“Not at all, though I'd say take the hide as well. If you want to make a statement, I’m sure a talented tailor could make something to give them pause.”
Hammer Strike looked to his current coat with a frown. It clearly had seen better days. “You know what? I was due for a new coat, anyway.”
“I’ll keep the rest here until you have need of it. Material like this seems too valuable to get rid of.”
“Definitely.” Hammer Strike nodded as he collected what he wanted. He strapped a section of fur across his side and strapped the fang across his back. The tooth was so long that its tip dragged against the floor. “This is going to make one hell of a sword.”
“I imagine so,” Momonga agreed as he followed him out. “I doubt anything of the mortal plane will be able to match it. Although I feel you and I must talk shortly after you bring the Thestrals to heel.”
“Serious problem?”
“I have found signs to indicate that a coven of vampires may have noticed Unity. I’ve done what I can to ward the wall, but it will not last forever.”
Hammer Strike frowned. “Yeah, we’ll definitely need to talk about that. Keep me updated on the situation, all right?”
“Will do.”
Hammer Strike brought the resources to the workshop he had established outside the mine. The fang was too large to bring into the forge at home, and there was no way he was going to risk the structural integrity of the house for this. It held all the necessary tools, thanks to his work with the gateways he had established. The only additional problem he faced was the fact that he needed to make an anvil that could handle the impacts necessary to reshape the fang. Either that or he would need a lot more spare anvils. Plenty more than he was willing to haul back and forth.
“Perhaps an infusion,” he muttered to himself. It had been some time since he had used his thaumaturgy to infuse metal with an aspect, but perhaps that was what he needed. He just had to find an aspect that would suit his needs.
Air … wouldn’t do anything but perhaps make the anvil lighter. And given his immense natural strength and augmentation, there was no need to do that. Fire would make the surface heated, perhaps keep the metal and other materials at a temperature he wanted, but wouldn’t help him maintain durability. Spirit would work with ethereal materials, but the fang wasn’t ethereal. Water would potentially make a more shapeable anvil….
He continued listing aspects in his head, trying to find something that would work before drifting back to Grif’s aspects, motion in particular. If he worked that in properly, he could perhaps make it give motion in opposition to the force, basically reinforcing the blows with equivalent impacts. It would require refinement, but the theory did hold some merit. He frowned to himself as he continued planning through it in his head before he finally held out a hoof and calling on the nearby aspects to make the necessary compound.
Before him sat a large crystal of motion, and he was still on the fence about how well it would work. But given the state of things, even if the experiment failed, he could always remove the aspect and determine a different route or application for it.
His hoof burst into flames around the crystal and anvil as he started to draw a symbol on the metal’s surface. The crystal steadily dissipated as he finished before both flames cut out. The anvil seemed relatively normal. It hadn’t even changed color, but a quick thaumic scan revealed the successful infusion. There was just one thing to do now.
He frowned as he called Ulkrusher to his hoof. It was unbreakable in it’s own way, so if this process worked, he would end up at a stalemate. It was a simple matter to drag the anvil away from the work space to a clear area. Then he placed Ulkrusher’s head onto the anvil for a moment and aligned himself for the optimum angle and force of impact. He took a breath, hefted the hammer over his shoulder, and slammed it down as hard as he could on the anvil.
Energy burst forth from the metal as it took the blow. A loud metallic ringing shot through the air, and Hammer Strike was shoved back by the sheer force of the recoil. He tumbled, then rolled to his hooves with Ulkrusher still miraculously in his grip. When he finally stopped, he dropped the hammer and shook his hoof as the backlash finally registered in his nerves. He looked to the anvil and couldn’t help but smile, despite the pain.
It was still in one piece.
With his new anvil, it was easy to begin work on the project, and the ring of the Earth Pony’s hammer blows carried through the air, complemented by a chuckle and a smile as Hammer Strike continued to work the fang into a blade. The anvil performed well beyond expectations, and it gave him a sense of pride being able to work with one of the hardest materials he’d ever forged without having to deal with carting out sundered tools and chunks of metal every few strokes.
Thus far, he’d managed to cut away pieces of the fang to remove the inner curve and had filed the point until the tip ran parallel with the now-straight spine. In the outer curve, he’d begun to create the bevels of the edge with careful coordination.
He’d just placed the bone in the forge again to heat up the material when he started to notice voices nearby that he didn’t recognise. Voices that were clearly moving in his direction.
“I know what I heard, and I’m tellin’ you, there wasn’t a shatter,” the first voice commented in a harsh gravelly voice.
“You're telling me that after five hundred tries, someone got lucky and managed it before us?” The second voice was less harsh, but slightly on the higher side.
“Sure seems like it. Now stop yer’ yappin’ and help me find the source!”
Hammer Strike looked to the forest nearby and noted two shapes moving directly toward him.
They were dwarves, or at least they resembled dwarves. Both were Shetland Ponies, like the other cave dwellers, but they seemed … different in their own way. The first was shorter, but stouter, with deep blue fur. He was bald, but sported a black beard and wore a leather smock covered with pockets loaded with tools.
The second was taller, but not as sturdy as the other. His tone was more of a tan that resembled Hammer Strike’s own, and his red mane was tied in a ponytail. He wore a blacksmith's apron.
Both stopped when they spotted Hammer Strike and stared at him.
“Hey, uh,” the shorter one started. “You wouldn’t happen to have heard a loud clang of metal without the shearing of it afterwards, would ye’?”
“I’m sorry to bother you, Sir. My brother and I heard a rather loud clang before. There was power in it, and my brother,” he laughed. “My brother believes someone actually went and made an unbreakable anvil!” He wiped a tear from the edge of his eye.
Hammer Strike took one step to the side to reveal the anvil he was working with. “Not sure it’s completely unbreakable, but my tests so far have proven it’s not giving in the slightest.”
The shorter one immediately moved up to Hammer Strike and began to inspect the anvil. After a moment, he turned to look at his brother. “What are you just sittin’ around for? Get over here!”
The other brother approached, examining the anvil carefully. He withdrew a tuning fork from under his apron and proceeded to tap it against the metal. Both brothers grinned at the sharp clear note that came from it.
Hammer Strike raised a brow at the duo before noting that they certainly didn’t come from the mines. “Where, exactly, are you two from?”
The tan Pony dusted himself off to make a better impression. “Well, my name is Sindri, and that is my brother, Brok. And we, good sir, are craftsmen, not unlike yourself. How well aware are you of the other worlds?”
Hammer Strike stared blankly at them for a moment. “Very.”
“Then you know of Yggdrasil.” Sindri nodded. “Well, we are dwarves from the halls of Myrkheim. My brother and I ended up in this world during ou—”
“Oh, fer’ cryin’ out loud!” Brok cut in. “We came down here because we heard you testing that there anvil of yours. How’d you do it?”
Hammer Strike stared at the two for a moment before studying them thaumically. While they didn’t have a field or an intense amount of energy, what they did carry were weak essences of the Primal. He frowned as he looked over the two. “I simply infused it with motion.”
Brok stared at him for a moment before looking to the anvil and back to him. “Sure as hell doesn’t look full o’ motion to me.”
“Not like that.” Hammer Strike shook his head. “It’s … complicated to explain.”
“My brother and I would be willing to compensate you for one like it,” Sindri noted.
Hammer Strike raised a brow. “In what way? Weapons aren’t a high priority for me.”
Brok frowned as he looked to him. “Well, what exactly are you needin’? Armor ain’t exactly our specialty. We’d offer you some magical rings, but I don’t exactly see them’s being your type.”
Hammer Strike hummed as he thought over things. He knew exactly who stood before him, but he definitely didn’t want to walk up that alley. After a moment, he glanced back to his forge and thought over a potential idea. “Well, from what I know about you two, is it safe to assume you know how to upgrade a forge?”
“Upgrade this stagpie? Yer’ better off starting over,” Brok replied bluntly.
“Kinda difficult when I don’t have the tools for it….”
“A new forge, full set of tools, and we’ll throw in some starting supplies,” the other pony spoke up as he carried a discarded bone fragment. “In return for the anvil and whatever you can spare of this material.”
“What in the seven hells do ye think yer’ doin’?” Brok replied harshly. “A whole forge fer’ a single anvil and some bones you can easily find elsewhere?”
Sindri proceeded to reach into Brok’s smock and pull out a ball peen hammer. “You made this, brother. You stand by its strength, right?”
“Yeah. Yer’ point?”
Sindri slammed it against the bone with all his strength. The hammer head bounced away, leaving no marks as sindri held the broken handle up for his brother.
Brok’s attention shot up. “How’d you—?” He snatched the bone fragment over his hammer handle and studied it. “Well, I’ll be…. Where the hell’d you find bone this strong?” He turned toward Hammer Strike.
“I killed the creature by breaking its neck, then collected its corpse,” Hammer Strike replied simply.
“Yeah, yeah,” Brok waved off. “No need to go boasting about yer’ strength. I’ll tells you what. You supply us with an anvil and some more of this bone, and I’ll give you a forge you’ll never, ever, ever forget.”
“That’s great, but I'm not always going to be around here.” Hammer Strike frowned.
“Not an issue. We’ll make a waystone. You can just go there from anywhere you happen to be,” Sindri spoke up.
“A waystone?”
“A stone anchored to a place. Anyone who has one can open a corridor to the place the stone’s anchored to.”
Hammer Strike hummed for a moment. “All right. I think I can work with that.”
“Perfect!” Sindri said as he rubbed his hooves together. “We’ll have it ready by Friday.”
“Today’s Thursday,” Hammer Strike replied with a raised brow.
“And? Yer point?” Brok commented. “He said Friday, we’ll have it done by Friday.”
“All right.” Hammer Strike brought a hoof up. “Meet you back here with it?”
“Of course! And don’t tell anyone you saw us, okay? We’re not supposed to be here.”
“What, Bonnie, Faust, and Sleipnir not happy with you or something?”
“Kid, this here is Sleipnir’s little playground. Odin was clear as spit none of us are supposed to be coming around.” Brok spat for emphasis.
“Fair enough.” Hammer Strike nodded. “I guess I’ll get to work on the anvil.”
Hammer Strike tapped his hoof against the second anvil he had made. It had already gone through infusion, so it was merely a matter of waiting for the two dwarves to show up. Behind him also laid a large femur from the Ursa. Since it was far too large for him to work with effectively, anyway, he figured he could afford to part with it.
“Well, slap my flank and call me Sally,” Brok spoke up from behind him.
He turned and noted Brok staring at the bone, studying it up and down as he circled it.
“Will that be enough?” Hammer Strike questioned.
“I’d say,” he glanced to Hammer Strike before walking over to the anvil next to him. After a moment of studying it, he nodded. “Yeah, you certainly held up your end of the bargain.” He reached into his smock and retrieved the stone, then tossed it to the Pony lord.
Hammer Strike caught the stone and, after looking it over, noted that it looked relatively plain with a rune etched into one face of it. “So, … how, exactly, does it work?”
“Oh, fer’—” Brok sighed. “You take the waystone, hold it in front of you, focus on the energy of the waystone, and a gate will open in front of you. Keep in mind, that gate isn’t going to open if anyone ‘special’ is lookin’ at you, and by anyone special, I mean anyone.”
“Solo set. Got it. No method of bringing anyone else?”
“Trust me, you don’t want to bring others there. If you really need to bring someone, have them holding on to you in some way, and go through it with them with their eyes closed,” Brok explained before looking at him flatly. “Well? Go on, already. Sindri’s gonna’ pace a path in that there new forge if you don’t get a move on.”
Brok rolled his eyes and grumbled as he turned away from Hammer Strike to the bone once again. “There. Happy?”
“Very.” Hammer Strike chuckled as he held the stone in front of him and focused on the energy of the waystone. After a moment, blue energy formed a frame in front of him, then filled with blue light. When he was confident of the portal’s stability, he stepped through. The gate closed shortly after behind him.
He arrived in a large rounded room. Black stone walled the north side for about forty-five degrees, but the rest of the area was open, showing an endless murky blackness occasionally dotted by points of light, except one point near the wall where a massive tree root snaked into the forge and over the side. Even without using thaumic vision, Hammer Strike could feel astounding amounts of primal energy pumping through that limb.
The wall was primarily filled with tools that sat neatly arranged in containers or hanging on pegs waiting to be used. The majority of the tools were for smithing, but Hammer Strike also noticed tools for engraving, woodworking, leatherworking, and even sewing and stitching spaced out and equally organized. At the central point of the forge, a slit had been formed in the upper part of the chamber. Molten steel flowed through, glowing bright orange. Then it ran into several channels that spidered through the floor in vent-covered trenches, allowing heat and light to pour through on all sides. The center of the room had a large rounded area where an anvil brace waited. On the other side, a crafting table stood prepared. The furnace had levers instead of bellows, and was already burning brightly as Hammer Strike approached. An eight-legged reptile roughly the size of a corgi slept within the flames.
Sindri stood in the center, smiling at him. “What do you think?”
“This … is a lot more than I anticipated,” Hammer Strike commented in surprise.
“Everything we agreed on, and maybe a little more. I added a few things when Brock was busy.” Sindri smiled as he pulled Hammer Strike toward the murky blackness of one “wall.” “Look into it and call for a material. Just pick something.”
Hammer Strike frowned as he thought of something. “Uh, … how about ebony?”
From out of the darkness, a small black object clunked to the ground. A perfectly formed square ebony ingot awaited his touch.
After a second he reached out and grabbed the ingot. He didn’t have to study it to tell it was exactly what he’d asked for. “That’s definitely going to be useful.”
“Now for something truly special,” Sindri said. “But just between us, Brock would kill me if he found out I threw these in.” Sindri led him near the tool wall, then stomped his hoof six times. Suddenly, a segment of the floor popped up, revealing a square panel roughly three feet wide and a foot-and-a-half long. Hefting it up, the dwarf revealed three ingots. Each was the color of highly polished brass, and probably would be impossible to look at with a brighter light source. Sindri looked at Hammer Strike expectantly.
Hammer Strike scanned the material for only a second before letting the vision fade and blinking repeatedly. “What in the world is that stuff? It’s too compound for me to even see broken down.”
“If you know who me and my brother are, then surely you’ve heard of Mjolnir?” Sindri asked.”This is uru. This is the metal we made it from. Harvested from the center of a dying star, it is the strongest and rarest metal ever created by god or dwarf. A small chip of one of these ingots could forge a greatsword finer then any made before.”
“You’re really giving me three ingots’ worth?” Hammer Strike remarked with some surprise.
“My brother’s a practical man. I can fault him for it, but I am less so. You obviously have the eyes of Sleipnir, and probably several other gods. I think you’ll use these well.” Sindri smiled at him. “Also, I feel bad about shilling you in this deal.”
“Honestly, this works for me. Only thing I could ask for extra is apparently fulfilled. How many ingots of normal metals are available to me?”
“Things like regular steel or iron are practically limitless,” Sindri noted as he closed the panel. “We added a few hundred ingots of orichalcum, three hundred of celestial bronze and celestia steel, two hundred and fifty of stygian iron, mythril, bright steel, various types of star metal, ebony. Fifty adamantine, fifty titanium, twenty silver, twenty silverite, and ten ingots of ice from the heart of Niflheim.”
“Yeah, I’m feeling comfortable about this deal,” Hammer Strike replied simply. “Question for you, though. If this is further down the line from home, what’s the difference in the flow of time?”
“Oh, yes, I forgot!” He pulled out a tool that vaguely resembled a clock. “This mark is time in your world.” He pointed to the noon symbol. “To slow down time here, move it clockwise. To speed up time here, move it counter-clockwise.”
“I can control it here? That’ll certainly prove useful.”
“This is the foot of Yggdrasil, not actually in one of the nine realms. This place normally doesn’t have a time as mortals understand it. We had to pay off an elf to work up time for this place, so yeah, you can control the flow in this space.”
“I appreciate it,” Hammer Strike replied with a smile. “Last question. Will there be a way to contact either of you, just in case? I might be willing to trade more of the bone down the line.”
“Well, we really shouldn’t….” Sindri seemed conflicted before sighing. He pulled out a small business card and handed it to Hammer Strike. “Just burn this if you want to see us again.”
“I’ll refrain from doing so unless it’s desperate. I’ll leave the whole trade for more ursa bone to you two.”
“Just don’t tell Sleipnir about this place,” Sindri stressed.
“What place?”
“Good answer.” Sindri chuckled. “Now, as you’re here, I take it brock was happy enough with what you gave him, so I’ll be taking my leave of you now.”
Hammer Strike chuckled. “Enjoy the anvil and femur.”
“Perfect! That will be great for our project.” Sindri gave one last wave before walking beyond the wall, only to return a moment later. “Almost forgot something.”
Hammer Strike raised a brow.
Sindri walked over to the root. “This is a root of Yggdrasil. It’s still connected to the tree, which means that bits of wood taken from it can still grow back in a few hours to a day. Just don’t take too much from it.”
“Noted.” He nodded.
“Okay, I’m off for real. Good luck.” And with a wave, the dwarf vanished behind the wall.
Hammer Strike blinked a few times as he sat within the new forge. He pulled out the waystone again and couldn’t help but smile. “You know what? I think this will be the perfect place to finish my newest additions.”
The first caves were a sacred place to Thestralkind. From this place, the tribes had first emerged long ago to forage and seek supplies. From this sanctuary, they learned to craft weapons, to hunt, and ultimately to seek their own lives through survival of the fittest. The sun had not been their ally then, and as tradition dictated, it still was not now. The cavern was a vast structure connected with a crisscross of tunnels that spiraled around the central structure with openings at various levels. The entrances were cleverly concealed to protect against those that would seek to do them harm.
Silver light pulsed in veins throughout the structure, filling it with the calming assurance of the night without the crushing darkness that often filled most Ponies with fear. The moon stone was plentiful, and led to the central point of the spiral, where the seven chieftains now gathered to discuss that which had come to concern them all.
“This creature is no better than the other invaders. He usurps the land, drives our game away, forces our sister tribe to stay away from that which is their right!” The Lion Tribe’s chieftain crashed his hoof on the cavern floor. “We talked. We decided. He would not listen. If he does not do as we have commanded, we will make him listen.”
“He came to you seeking a peaceful solution,” the Fox Tribe’s chieftess said. “He offered you ways that both sides could end their issues peacefully.”
“Yes, like the horned ones asked for peace? The moment we stopped being of use to them, they sought to hunt us, to enslave us. There is no guarantee of such fairness from this stranger. And he grants sanctuary to these very same beasts. They are cruel, and their hearts are blackened with greed and pride. He is either blind to it or thinks to repel it. Such things inevitably lead to a gruesome end,” the Manticore’s leader said. Her spear lay by her side as she gazed on her fellows. Silvery streaks like the moon dyed the braided locks of her black mane.
“Perhaps he could be the hedge that separates us from them,” the Viper chieftess said. “How much longer do you think we can stop them from just taking things? Their numbers swell as ours diminish. They hold magic and weapons we cannot match.”
“And we hold knowledge of the terrain, the skies, and tactics that they cannot anticipate. For now, at least, we can maintain a balance,” the Wolf chieftess said.
“And how long?” the chieftess of the Bear asked. “There is no survival in this path.”
“On this, I am agreed, but we have voted over the circumstances already. I was overruled. You know the laws.”
“Though I am loath to admit it openly, this Pony bested one of my warriors. He has shown strength,” the Dragon Chieftain said.
“One trial of combat does not a leader make,” the Lion chieftain countered.
There was the distant sound of a rapid gallop near the top of the cave, and as the chieftains looked up, a small figure leapt into the air and, though some unknown means, made it to the center of the cone before plummeting downward. Whatever it was landed dead center of their ring before they could react. When the smoke finally cleared, they looked up to see what they expected to be a dead body.
Instead, Hammer Strike sat in the center of the room. Rather than the armor they had seen him in beforehand, he wore a long coat that covered a majority of his body. Each cuff ended with a thin inlay of golden fabric, but what laid in the centre brought memories to each of them. Clusters of light glimmered among a black slate, revealing galaxies spiralling around themselves.
Not a word passed his lips as Hammer Strike drew the blade from his back. The long cleaver-like blade curved to a deadly point. Blackened metal had been used to reinforce the spine. Its surface ignored all light in the room, leaving it at a constant shade of black. On the right face of the blade, the obsidian token he’d received from the bear tribe lay embedded into the bone close to the spine. The same black metal had been used to form the guard at the base of the blade, running the width of the sword and no longer. It waved and curved like black tendrils clamping to the ancient bone. Emerging from that was a long single handle of wood double-wrapped in the ursa fur. At the pommel, a bear’s snarling face was carved. a two-foot-long ribbon of ursa fur hung freely from the pommel, trailing behind Hammer Strike’s movements as he turned the blade point down and sunk it into the stone with ease.
“I’d say it leans toward the size of the trial more than anything,” Hammer Strike commented as he brushed off his shoulder.
“So, the great bear is dead,” the Bear chieftess said with a smile.
“Very much so,” Hammer Strike replied with a smirk. “So, do I have all of your attention?”
“Trickery!” the Lion chief snarled as he lunged to his hooves. His great mane shook with his fury. “Trickery and illusion from the horned ones in your care!” He drew a spear from a quiver that lay at his side.
“You’d dare lift your weapon in this sacred place?” the Bear chieftess chastised. “No blood is to be spilt here. You know the law. Put that down.”
“And in the case of an intruder, an outsider who would reveal the location of that which we hold most sacred to the rest of his kind?”
“I invited the outsider, so we might hear his case.” The old mare lifted one wrinkled eye toward the stallion. It burned with fury. “Your pride does not bypass our laws. If you doubt him so much, let him tell his story, and let his articles be examined. If he is lying, we will know.”
The stallion grit his teeth and growled, but gradually lowered his weapon. “I do not like this,” he objected, “but you speak true. The Bear Tribe bears the gift of knowing. However, I still object to your bringing him here. Another cave, another place, would have been far more reasonable.”
“If reason were the prevailing head, we would not be here in the first place,” she returned scathingly before turning to Hammer Strike. “May I examine your sword and coat?”
“You may.” Hammer Strike pulled his sword from the ground to reveal it in its glory. “As may all of you. Come forth and look upon the remains of your false god.”
A lion’s roar rebounded through the cavern as the Lion’s chief lunged at the offender. His mane rippled with his rage as he bore his fangs and threw his weight into the charge. The spear lay forgotten with its brothers, so great was his reaction to what he deemed a blasphemy.
Hammer Strike remained perfectly calm as the stallion bore down on him. He waited for the opportune moment. Then, in one fluid motion, he dodged and seized his attacker by the throat. The gurgling exclamation that was the result of that impact was audible to all in the immediate vicinity as the stallion’s legs flew out from under him, then swung back like a pendulum while Hammer Strike lifted him into the air with the aid of a thaumic band to ensure a full grip around the stallion’s neck.
“Know this, young one,” Hammer Strike spoke in the Thestral tongue. “I may be patient, but you are pushing that patience to its limit.” He fixed the Thestral with a chilling stare, then dropped him to the ground, where the stallion coughed and gulped at the air in equal measure.
The Bear chieftess ignored the display as she climbed toward Hammer Strike and ran a hoof down the sword, tapping it here and there and giving it a careful look. She turned to him and walked forward, taking the hem of his coat in her hooves and stroking it gently.
“Ursa fur. I haven’t felt this since I was a little foal. My grandfather and several warriors gave their lives to bring it down. I thought I'd never find anything like it again.” She signalled to the others. “Come. Feel it for yourselves,” she encouraged.
The other leaders did so and marveled at the craftsmanship. Some even went so far as to test the edge of Hammer Strike’s sword against other materials on hoof. Even the Manticore had no choice but to acknowledge what already stood plainly before them. The chieftess looked apologetically, even with concern at the Lion Tribe’s leader. He refused to show more weakness than he already had, though the glare he fixed on Hammer Stroke spoke louder than words that he would not easily forget nor forgive what he had just experienced.
“By our laws, he that kills the beast gains its strength. And it’s authority,” the Bear chieftess said. “This is a law we have lived with since time immemorial. Things are crystal clear.” She turned to Hammer Strike. “What would you have of us, Great Bear and Champion of the Moon?”
“I would have you all work alongside me,” he replied simply. “Though some of you may not believe it, I do not wish for you all to drop your titles and settle under me. You all will keep your rank, but I will be the one to guide you all.” He flipped the sword in his grip once again and stabbed it into the center of the floor. Thaumic flames erupted from the ground. When they cleared, all present could see the mark of the Ursa burned into the stone beneath them. “I will lead you all to a better future, one settled under the guiding light of the moon.”
“To the Great Bear!” The Fox chieftess held up her tomahawk before placing it in front of her. “The fox will follow.”
“As wIll the lesser bear.” The Bear chieftess set her own throwing axe down. The Viper and Dragon soon followed.
The Manticore chieftess looked apologetically at the Lion, then laid her axe at Hammer Strike’s hooves. “The Manticore accepts your power and authority.”
The Wolf followed suit with far more dignity as she looked half in wonder and half in a grudging admiration of the power he had displayed. “I may lead my pack, but you will lead us all.”
All eyes fell on the last of the chieftains. The Lion rose grudgingly to his hooves. “It would seem I have little choice.” His tomahawk soon joined the rest. “I won’t lie by saying I approve or am excited. But I have been bested. I will not be made a fool of twice in one day.”
“Good to hear,” Hammer Strike commented. “Now, I believe we have some problems to discuss.”
“Well, my Strikey-wikey certainly knows how to make a statement, doesn’t he?” Rarity asked. A smile had crossed her face, and it flushed with admiration as she fanned it.
Pensword’s eyes were fixed on one thing from the event. “Th… HAMERSTRIKE FORGED THE OATH SWORD!” He roared in the room. “And he fought the Lion and won!” He was very much disoriented by the rush of history. “Twice in as many days, and my own knowledge of my past hath been upended.” Tears leaked down his cheeks. “Even Luna will need to follow Hammer Strike. She may lead us Thestrals, but Hammerstrike Rules like King Arthur did Britannia.”
“Hammer Strike obviously felt this method was kinder than the obvious answer,” Grif noted. “I doubt we’ll see such bloodless conflict again.”
“Oh, I can see this. And a part of me looks forward to seeing the wars that the Thestrals will wage with Hammer Strike’s blessing. This era…” Pensword paused and looked around at the others. “This is our Camelot. This was the age that saw us almost believe we could live side by side with non-Thestrals. He ended an age of deep temptations, our equivalent of the Dark Ages, single-hoofed! If it weren’t for Discord, we could well have fully integrated by now. Some called him the Sun’s wrath.”
“I suppose Unity won’t have leather issues anymore.” Grif chuckled.
“Now the question is, which animal leather will become the sign of nobility?” Pensword asked. “I personally prefer wolf leather, myself.”
“I suppose that depends how the populations even out. Also, should we poke her with a stick or something?” Grif gestured to Twilight, who was sitting not far off, staring at the screen, dumbfounded.
“Better to wait for the automatic reboot,” Vital said.
“I wonder what she’s locked up about this time. This is, what, Hammer Strike’s eightieth monster kill?” Pensword raised his voice. “As the High Duke of Thestrals, I claim first expedition for the Thestrals.”
“Pensword, first of all, she can’t hear you. Secondly, even if she could, I don’t think you have the right to claim it first. That’s for Luna to claim as the High Chieftess. You’ve already got your plate full dealing with the settlement,” Vital noted.
“You know, that looked familiar,” Grif said suddenly.
“What did?” Pensword asked, before looking to Vital. “And for the record, Vital, I am the only Thestral in the room. I had to make the claim, even if some other Thestral will do the expedition.”
“That sword, or at least the handle,” Grif replied. “We found a massive door in New Unity with a sword stuck in the ground. Not even Hammer Strike could remove it.”
Pensword’s mouth dropped and his eyes glazed over as his brain froze at just what Grif had said. His wings extended and locked in place. Twilight now had company in the land of system crashes.
Luna and celestia had been sent away. Not necessarily to bed, but away, as Hammer Strike didn’t want them present for the conversations likely to happen. The winter raged outside the door, but the hearth was well stocked, and so the room was reasonably warm as the four figures sat around the table in Hammer Strike’s living room. Two Unicorns, an Earth Pony, and a Minotaur.
“So, Momonga, before all this had happened, you had alerted me to the presence of vampires nearby?” Hammer Strike questioned.
“Yes. It seems to be a fairly large coven. The figures identified were clearly used to working together, and were well synchronized. I fear they may be led by an elder vampire.”
“Are the solar orbs working in at least repelling the weaker variants?”
“They seem to be, for now. However, I'm worried that this elder vampire will begin uplifting them if the orbs prove to be too much of a hindrance.”
“What methods are available to us for dealing with this? We talking wooden stake through the heart? Am I going to have to look for a priest to get some holy water...?”
“Holy water would help. The wooden stake only really works if you catch them in their coffins. Silver might work, but the purity makes it … impractical.”
“This is going to be problematic.” Hammer Strike sighed. “Clover, Binding, your thoughts?”
“Well, with the lack of any religious figures in Unity, it might be better to rotate garlic into the crops. It would at least slow them down,” Clover added.
“And, if you’ll forgive the callousness of the statement, the contracts are still in effect. If they turn anyone in the settlements, those newborns will still have to obey the laws they agreed to. As for a more direct strategy, I’ve heard that there are certain creatures that exist in opposition to vampires, but I’m not certain we can rely on such a creature just dropping into Unity,” Binding added.
“I don’t want to run the risk of seeing how the contract works on them.” Hammer Strike frowned. “I’ll have to check with Free Market to see if she carries any garlic bulbs or seeds, or if anyone has traded some in recently from out of our settlement.”
“We could also see about setting up warding spells to build extra layers of defense. And I believe I’ve heard that running water is a suitable deterrent to even the strongest undead. Is it possible for us to build some form of a moat or other circulating body of water around the town?”
“I already looked into that. The town’s simply too wide.” Momonga shook his head.
“So, we need to start looking for a priest, garlic, and other potential alternatives.” Hammer Strike frowned. “Or silver.”
“We would need a means to keep the silver pure as well,” Binding noted as he rubbed his chin. “That could be difficult.”
“Trust me.” Hammer Strike looked at him flatly. “I know.”
“I’ve done all I can as far as wards,” Momonga noted. “They won’t last forever.”
“I might be able to amplify the effect temporarily, give us some more time to work with.”
“I’ll see if I can locate this elder vampire,” Momonga said.
“It could be warded as well,” Binding noted. “Perhaps you can ask our new allies if they have any experience.”
“They wouldn’t think to ward against me.” Momonga chuckled. Then he sighed. “Unfortunately, there is another matter that I will have to hunt down before that.”
“Another matter? As in another threat?” Binding asked.
“Before your people took the name for their ice spirits, there was another type of windigo to worry about.”
“Star Swirl would have mentioned that,” Clover spoke up.
“Star Swirl the Bearded knows as much about darkness as he cares to. That is to say, not at all,” Momonga answered her. “A wendigo, not to be mistaken with windigo, is a creature of hunger and desperation created most commonly after harsh winters force some to acts of cannibalism.”
“Ponies eating other Ponies?” Clover balked. “That’s unheard of, not to mention biologically impossible for us. We can barely stomach fish.”
“That matters not to the desperate,” Hammer Strike commented. “And those who aren’t exactly normal,” he finished, revealing his canines.
Clover gaped at the sight.
“Wendigo are very dangerous, and while regular mortals can kill them, the spirit of the wendigo will simply find a new host unless it is dealt with on a more spiritual plane,” Momonga said.
“So, it’s a spirit that possesses the bodies of those who choose to engage in cannibalism. Does it have any other qualities? Are there many such spirits or only a few that seek out hosts over time? Are they ancient magical beings, like the windigo are, or something else?” Clover asked both as a matter of curiosity and also for defense. “Do they function in a manner similar to a malevolent spirit, like a poltergeist? And if so, does that mean they can be expelled by similar means, such as invocation or other holy measures?”
“I will show you my bestiary later, and you can learn for yourself,” Momonga promised.
“Where would you have gotten hold of such a record, anyway?” Clover asked curiously.
“Saddle Arabia. It was sold to the trader I bought it from by a Yak.” He shrugged. “I have no need for food or water. Books are the one thing that mattered.”
“No need?” Binding pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and the lenses flashed again. “I see. And are you capable of traveling this spiritual plane or otherwise accessing it to deal with the problem on a more permanent basis?”
“The capture, binding, and destruction of spirits are all well within the abilities of my arts,” Momonga stated. “Along with many other things.”
Binding looked inquiringly at Hammer Strike, who gave the slightest nod. “Then I suppose we’ll have to trust in your skills, Momonga,” he finally said.
“We may need to warn the other settlements as well. If this kind of threat is cropping up here, then the other tribes are likely to become targets as well, many of which will be far easier to exploit,” Clover added.
“We can try to warn the others,” Hammer Strike started. “Earth Pony settlements might listen to me, but our best connections to the others aren’t in the best of lights.”
“I’ll try to alert Star Swirl as well. The Ponies may not listen to you, but they will listen to him, and this is a threat that he knows can’t simply be ignored.”
“You’ll have to be careful about that.” Hammer Strike hummed. “Especially since your recent exit.”
“I never said I’d go back to the kingdom. Star Swirl said for us not to be involved with their politics, so I’m not. Besides, did you really think after all these years under his tutelage that I wouldn’t have learned a spell to contact him privately?”
“Fair enough.” Hammer Strike shrugged. “To be fair, I never really kept tabs on your studies.”
“How could you have?”
“By asking you,” he replied simply. “To be honest, I’m still not used to the idea of everyone present practically working right alongside me. It’s … normally others.”
“You’ll have to introduce us some time, then,” Clover said. “Was there anything else people had to contribute, or are we ready to go implement our plans?”
“I can think of nothing further at this time, other than possibly alerting Hurricane to the situation. Frankly, I’m surprised he hasn’t been invited to join this council yet, given how much he’s helped shape this community,” Binding said.
“It’s probably a good idea. Would you mind catching him up to speed, Binding?” Hammer Strike requested.
Binding nodded. “As you command.”
“Clover, contact Star Swirl and gather what info you can.”
“Will do.” clover nodded.
“Momonga, I’ve got something to talk with you about after this.”
“I’ll remain, then.”
“All right; I leave you all to your duties. I’ve got some preparations to make.”
The duo disbanded, leaving the lord and the Minotaur alone to discuss.
“Momonga, I want you to prep your cave for tonight.” Hammer Strike sighed.
“So, you’ve decided, then?” Momonga asked.
“If we’re getting these issues, it’s time to step up our security. If it means having to do this, I will do so gladly.”
“When should I expect you?”
“Three hours.” He frowned. “I want to run through everything in my head.”
“I’ll have everything ready.” The Minotaur nodded. “You won’t regret this.”
Hammer Strike nodded as Momonga set off to prepare. He sighed to himself and ran a hoof through his mane. “I hope this doesn’t end with one of you up there coming down here. I’ve already got enough stress on my mind.”
The room Momonga had set up for the act was on the larger side, longer than it was wide. It had been arranged similarly to a church, save for the bones scattered about and the torches burning blood red around them. Momonga sat waiting at the front when Hammer Strike arrived. He’d removed his robe, and his staff lay dormant nearby. Brasiers sat on either side of him, wafting strong-smelling incense into the air. As the Pony approached, he could see why. While the Minotaur was in relatively good shape, a few areas of his body had begun to bloat. Several points looked like they had just fallen off. A stone table lay nearby, waiting.
“I hope everything is good enough. I wasn’t sure what materials you might require,” Momonga said.
“None,” Hammer Strike assured him. “My methods are quite different from standard.”
“Very well. What do you require of me?”
Hammer Strike reached into his coat and pulled out a red orb. “I would suggest you lay down. This process will be, perhaps, on the more extreme side.”
Momonga nodded and laid himself on the table. Under the full light of the torches, Hammer Strike finally saw how very cadaverous the bovine’s countenance had become at that point. How had no one noticed the Minotaur’s lack of breathing all this time?
“Shall I deal with your flesh as well?” Hammer Strike asked.
“That would be for the best. I would have to part with it eventually, anyway.”
Hammer Strike nodded as thaumic energy started to escape him. “Then we begin.” He moved to Momonga’s side. “Upon my authority as a thaumaturge, I shall bind you to this verbal contract. You shall be granted the ascension beyond the mortal coil you so crave, and with it the ability to grow to new heights arcane. In turn, you are bound to my bloodline from acceptance forthright. My word shall become a law you can never refuse. From acceptance forward, you shall be granted some of my power, ever growing in scale until you can take no more. Do you accept this?”
“I do accept and swear to your terms,” Momonga said without a second thought.
“Though your soul remain trapped, you shall live forevermore,” Hammer Strike responded as he wrapped his thaumic energy around Momonga and ripped his mind and soul from it. As soon as they were clear, he swiped his hoof and flame coated Momonga’s corpse, burning away the flesh until nothing but bone remained. Within his other hoof, he bound the soul and mind to the orb. Finally, he linked the orb to the skeleton. After the flames died, he took the orb and placed it in the skeleton’s ribcage, fusing it to the bone. “No matter the state of your phylactery, your soul and mind are bound eternal.” He continued to link the mind and soul to the skeleton, forming a false array of senses from touch to smell. Additionally, he added reinforcement to the bones to ensure Momonga would have resistance to blunt force.
After completing his task, he released the soul and mind to it’s lively state, allowing Momonga to become aware of the world around him once more.
Momonga sat there silently for a while. The only sign of his awareness was the two glowing crimson points that shone in his eye sockets. “It is finished?” he finally asked. The jaw didn’t move, but the voice resonated from deep behind clenched teeth.
“Yes,” Hammer Strike replied. “And I have no doubt the divine will find this act … unpleasant.”
“No doubt the devils as well.” Momonga chuckled as he sat up. “You’ve created a lich bound to no will but your bloodline.” The skeleton held out a hand experimentally. Black flames erupted high from his hand and danced sporadically. “I can feel understanding unlike anything I've experienced before. I can feel the dark, and yet it holds no siren call to me.”
“Through my right as a thaumaturge, you are forever bound to me. Nothing can sway you from my hold,” Hammer Strike explained simply.
Momonga nodded as he stood. He held out his fingers before him. Small flashes of black fire played across them, forming ten rings. More flames covered his body, forming a black robe that flowed downward from his shoulders. The front was lined with purple at the front where it sealed together, save for the area in front of his massive ribcage, which opened to the world. The red orb shone with an eerie glow. A hood covered his skull until just at the forehead, and opened at the sides to allow his massive horns through. Long purple ribbons unraveled from the hood and ended near his feet while gold lined the hem of the hood down the shoulders and around the massive sleeves. A gold yoke wrapped around his neck where the shoulder coverings started. On top of the coverings, pauldrons formed to accurately brace his horns. Almost as an after note, the fire raced across his horns. When it dispersed, two large red orbs had been embedded into them near the base, and they had been cleaned and coated in what appeared to be silver.
“A new life.” He waved his hand and his staff jumped to it of its own accord. “Betokens a new name. With your permission?” Momonga looked to Hammer Strike.
Hammer Strike nodded simply as the thaumic energy around him died down.
The lich laughed. “Then from this day, know me as Ainz Ooal Gown.”
“We’ll have to update the others,” Hammer Strike noted. “Though, first, I think I need to make a few items to help cover you up in public.”
There was a flash of fire and the Minotaur’s skeletal face was covered by a bright red and green mask containing a somewhat unsettling grin.
“That’ll work.” Hammer Strike shrugged. “Don’t forget some gloves or gauntlets. Kinda removes the point of the mask if they just see bones for hands.”
“Yes.” Ainz nodded. “But for now, I have preparations to make. I will also see about procuring some additional troops, should you need them. I only ask you send me any spare bodies you don’t need.”
“I will. But for now, I think I’m going to take a moment to relax. Eternally binding a soul and mind while basically hiding our presence from Death is a pain to deal with.”
“I will make sure you don’t regret it,” Ainz repeated. “You go rest. I have work to be done!”
“Joy.”
The next day would be one forever etched in Hammer Strike’s memory.
It had started perfectly normal. Work was going along as planned. Clover and binding had thrown themselves into their studies. Hurricane was drilling the troops. Most other Ponies were packed away in their homes. The orbs could keep back the winter cold, but it was still winter, and instinct was always present. Those that did go out usually went to procure firewood. The Gryphons left to hunt. The Diamond Dogs were working in their mines, and the small group of Thestrals that had accompanied Hammer Strike back to Unity where busy tanning hides into leather.
Even momonga was quiet, having procured a small group of bodies to use. From where, Hammer Strike was unsure. No one was missing, and there was no evidence of any murders, so hammerstrike chose to side with an I-don’t-need-to-know mindset.
The leader was just thinking about returning to the forge for a while when he felt it, far to the east. Thaumic energies shifted and prodded each other violently. The aspect of aer seemed to move in a confused frenzy as something was pulled. Otherworldly screams filled the air around him as primal energy flared and surged wildly. And then, with four haunting shrieks of pain, it stopped. Only, when things settled again, the world felt different, … wrong. Like something fundamental had just been forcibly ripped from the very fabric of the world.
Hammer Strike sat still, blinking as he comprehended the situation he’d just experienced. It took him a few minutes to realize that he had just felt the Winds being banished, heard their screams as it happened.
“Are you all right, Sir?” Hurricane asked, having noticed Hammer Strike’s reaction from a distance.
“I…” Hammer Strike blinked a few times and looked to Hurricane. “I need you to find the Gryphons who are currently out on a hunt. If you can’t do it, send someone else and make sure they’re at least all right. It won’t be pleasant. I can assure you of that much.”
Hurricane saluted. “Yes, Sir. Did something happen?”
“I’ll explain later.” Hammer Strike shook his head as Hurricane left to execute his orders. “Ains,” Hammer Strike called out, “track down our Diamond Dogs and keep them where they are. Don’t alarm them. Just keep them together and safe.”
“I’m on it,” Ainz responded over their link. “Whatever that was, it was … unpleasant.”
Hammer Strike set off toward some of the Gryphon camps to ensure everyone was all right. Many of the Gryphons had huddled together. Some just sat there catatonically. Others seemed to be attempting to pray. Most disturbingly was the greater majority weeping openly as a group. He was unsure of what to say as he approached the majority. How could one console someone who’d just had such an intimate connection forcibly severed?
“The winds are gone,” one Gryphoness commented when she saw him. “We have no gods. No one guards the gates of the beyond. We, … we are alone.”
“I … I know. I heard their screams,” he replied somberly. “I could feel it.” He laide a hoof on his chest.
“Why would anyone do this? Why take our gods?” she asked.
“Fear,” he replied after a moment. “I’m sorry, but … you were the last ones at the top of the world.”
“On top of the world?”
Hammer Strike sighed. “My daughters are the only Alicorns left on this planet. All of the rest, every last one of them, are dead,” he replied simply. “Gryphons were the only ones left standing above the world.”
“We only stood at all because of the Winds,” she said. “Faust abandoned us to decay and die, and now nothing stands between us and a slow death.”
Hammer Strike looked at her for a moment before determining his next actions. “Listen to me on this.” He stood tall and raised his voice. “To all of you in earshot!”
The Gryphons did look up, though their faces were marred by a mixture of heartache and sorrow.
“Know this. No matter what you may feel now or what you believe, know that your gods aren’t gone forever. Their presence still exists, if only just. They are not dead, but sealed away.”
That got their attention. Many murmured among themselves. Some were suspicious. Some were incredulous. Others were disbelieving. But a desperation clawed at the back of those gazes.
“They're … really alive?” the Gryphoness he’d been speaking with asked softly.
“Feel around you. Can you truly say you no longer feel anything? Gods are beings beyond our mortal ways. They do not die so simply. They may be gone now, but they are not gone forever. Their influence still exists, limited though it may be.”
Many of the group seemed to stop, a few small nods came from the crowd.
Hammer Strike shifted the hue of his eyes white to further his best efforts. “Know this. Though it will take many years, there will be a time where one will stand in a grand effort to bring them back. This arbiter of their will, this … Avatar of Winds, will work near tirelessly to do it.”
“The Avatar of Winds?”
“The Avatar shall gather the echoes of the Winds, and through tools unknown and power forgotten, open the gates for them to return once more.”
To say the crowd was happy would be an overstatement, but a look of grim determination spread across them. Most stopped weeping to themselves as they looked to help others who were less fortified.
What gave hammerstrike pause was when several males and females lowered their beaks to him as one .
Hammer Strike gave a sad smile as he looked over them all. “Stay strong, and know that no matter how dark times may seem, there is a light.” He gave them a nod. “Come now. Your brethren will soon return, and they will need that spark of hope.”
And with that, the Gryphons of Unity began to work. Hammerstrike would notice a change in them over the next few weeks. The Gryphons had always been polite, but distant and separated from Unity. They soon would be seen around the town proper, interacting with the other races. Smiles and laughter would soon follow as they developed connections with everyone else. At long last, the Gryphons would begin to integrate.
For now, however, Hammer Strike bid them farewell and started the return trip home. It was a quiet trip, but he felt at least slightly better, given the end results. “Ainz, keep watch over the pack, and deal with any troubles that may arise against them, but give them freedom to move again. I will brief them myself later on what happened. You’re clear to return to your normal duties.”
“Acknowledged.”
He sighed to himself. It was a horrific matter he just had to deal with. If he had to bluff his way through it to keep them hopeful, he would. He knew the others on his little council would eventually have questions for him, but for now, he simply wanted to go home and prepare dinner.
Upon opening his front door, however, he felt red flags pop up as a different presence emanated within the house. Celestia and Luna were off doing their own work. Hermes was out making deliveries for their settlement, and Clover was currently in her own workshop.
A warm fire crackled merrily, and a thick leatherbound tome sat on a table with an inkwell, a quill, and a parchment that the quill wrote on automatically without any magical prompting. A large teapot steamed in the center of an ornate metal tray, surrounded by various ingredients to augment the brew that doubtless sat waiting to be poured. When Hammer Strike remained motionless, a white wing stretched invitingly out from a high-backed chair and waved. “I won’t bite, you know.” The voice was soft and hovered around a smooth alto.
“Now is really not the time.” Hammer Strike sighed as he turned toward the source of the voice.
“I’m aware.” Four hooves clopped on the floor, and a long red mane peeked up over the chair’s top, along with a long spiraling white horn. Blue met blue as Faust’s eyes locked with Hammer Strike’s. “Thank you, for giving them comfort.”
“I … don’t want to experience that again.” Hammer Strike looked to her. “I’m not a Gryphon. I’m not connected to the Winds in any way. But I could feel them. I could hear them scream in agony as they were sealed away. I can only imagine what they felt.”
“It was terribly cruel and unnecessary.” She shook her head sadly. “I never thought they could … that they would….”
“The Diamond Dogs were terrified.” Hammer Strike moved over to the couch and took a seat. “The Alicorns died off, leaving the Gryphons the only ones to stand at the top of the world. To be honest, I wondered how the rest of the world would manage with this level of separation.”
“They had gods of their own to watch over them. They’d even brokered a peace with the Winds.” She shuddered. “And they repaid that trust by stealing gifts meant for another to fuel the spell. Only a few powers on this earth can rival a god. One such lies with the Titans.”
“You need to ensure this can’t happen again.” Hammer Strike shook his head. “Lest history repeat itself through other races.”
“I can’t control the acts of mortals so easily. You know this.”
“But you can sway them over the course of years,” Hammer Strike countered.
“To an extent, perhaps, but not all. Every god in this world has their own covenant people. I can counsel with them on the best course of action for the future and a proper punishment, but it must be something we all agree to for it to have an enduring effect.”
“You owe it to yourself to try,” Harmony said as she materialized beside Hammer Strike. “For the Winds and for the wrong your children did to me and my brother.”
“They weren’t meant to turn out that way,” Faust said as her eyes glistened with unshed tears.
“They sought to take order into their hooves, to leash chaos. You knew the consequences for meddling with such forces. That’s why you finally had to let them face them. From here on, it is up to you as the Creator Goddess to ensure it does not happen again. Hammer Strike and I will raise your daughters properly, so your favorite children may have the chance to walk the land again. Your duty is to limit how far the remainder’s magic can reach, and more importantly to tend to your other children with equal love.”
Faust swallowed heavily. “It is a difficult thing you ask, but I am honorbound to give it to you, to both of you.”
“Honorbound?” Hammer Strike asked.
“I believe you would call it a divine boon.”
“Doesn’t explain the how part,” Hammer Strike continued.
“My children systematically tortured and abused you and many others. Is that not justification enough?”
Hammer Strike blinked a few times. “Right…. I kinda figured it would happen either way.”
“You … what?”
“Any advanced species tends to get … confident. If it weren’t the Alicorns, admittedly, I wonder what the Gryphons would have done, or any others who rose in the ranks.”
“And this doesn’t anger you?”
“Don’t get me wrong. If it weren’t for their systematic slaughter, I honestly think I would have found a way to hunt most of them down and drown them in their own blood,” Hammer Strike replied bluntly. “I will potentially recall what they did to me until the day I die. But, as you stated, changing ways takes a long time, and after they fell that far, there was no recovering, even if you staged a divine intervention.”
Faust sighed. “Regardless, I fear it will take time and careful cultivation before the remainder of my children are able to evolve. They will have to learn the same lessons many times over, I think, before they are ready.”
“Teach them right,” Hammer Strike replied with a shrug. “I mean, either that or my job gets harder.”
Harmony rolled her eyes. “I will teach them, when the time is right. Indeed, in many ways, we have already begun to teach. The attunement will take time, but my power should prove a proper check against those who step beyond their bounds, once the Ponies learn to tap into it.”
“But will that really be enough?” Faust asked.
“Only Father knows, and perhaps one or two others.”
Faust sighed. “I suppose it will have to do for now.”
“It’ll mostly work,” Hammer Strike commented with a shrug. “Though that’s a long way off.”
“We’ll do what we can to alleviate the damage in the meantime. You may not hear from me or many of us for a while.”
“Honestly,” Hammer Strike looked to her. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but these meetings aren’t really something I look forward to.”
Faust smiled weakly. “You are very wise.” The scroll, inkwell, and quill rose to join her, along with the book. “It’s time for me to depart. Though before I go, I must also warn you. Be wary of the number of undead you raise to defend your home.”
“Know that I only do what must be done,” Hammer Strike countered.
Faust nodded. “I trust Harmony will steer you right. Though if you find yourself in need of a little clarity, try the tea.” This time, her smile was stronger. “Don’t worry. It’ll keep.” A light glow enveloped her body as she stretched her wings. “Call me, if you need me, Hammer Strike. I wish you good fortune.” She flapped her wings once, then disappeared in a flash of light.
Hammer Strike stared flatly at the tea tray before standing from the couch and moving toward the hallway.
Hurricane flew at all speed through Unity in a flurried attempt to find Hammer Strike. Recruits were rapidly mobilizing around him, warning civilians, preparing for anything with the current situation.
He finally burst through the door to Hammer Strike’s kitchen, where the Pony in question stood. “Sir!”
Hammer Strike turned to the door, stopping his motion of cutting ingredient to prepare for dinner. “What’s the problem?”
“A group of Unicorns showed up at the gate, ten or so. They have a small group of sellswords with them, and they’re demanding to see you, so that you can ‘present proper tribute.’ I think they plan trouble if we don’t comply.”
Hammer Strike sighed. “All right.” He embedded his knife into the cutting board before calling Ulkrusher to his hoof. “Lead the way.”
By the time Hammer Strike made it to the gate, many of the guard were already present with crossbows loaded and spears at the ready. At Hammer Strike’s signal, the gate was opened to reveal a group of Unicorns wearing some of the flashiest show armor he had ever seen, as well as a mixed squad of Ponies, Gryphons, and even a Roo wearing more economic armor and brandishing weapons.
The leader was a heavily built stallion with a deep blue coat and a straw-like goatee that waggled in the winter winds. His mane fell limply from the bristle port at the top of his helmet to circle the back of his head and drape gracefully down his neck to rest along his shoulder. A runic ring had been placed on his horn to augment his magical field.
“And here I thought Pegasus armor was gaudy,” Hammer Strike commented flatly.
“You dare compare my brothers and I to those air-headed buffoons? They think only of where their next thrill will come from.”
“That would imply I am insulting the Pegasi,” Hammer Strike replied flatly. “But at least they’re smart enough to not bother me directly.”
“You are an unclaimed settlement that is without the protection of the mighty Unicorns. You may have built a,” his eyes roved over the walls and the rich lands that clearly laid beyond as he cleared his throat. “Place for yourselves, but without a guiding horn, I assure you these lands will fall to infighting within a year or two.”
“Over seven, and you’re still incorrect.” Hammer Strike sighed. “Go on, say your demands, so I can deny them and get on with my day.”
The noble sniffed. “A joke. How quaint. Now then, in exchange for falling under the protection of Baron Starflight, a small tithe will be expected from every harvest, just enough to feed the protectors and pay the barony for keeping the peace.” The soldier’s face became ashen at first, then hardened into a venomous glare as he jabbed a hoof at a Thestral that flew past. “And you will be expected to expel those savages. They bring nothing but trouble, and they spit on Faust’s name.” He stroked his mane, practically nursing it. “You need only trade with the Barony. We have everything you earth dwellers will ever need.”
“Okay.” Hammer Strike raised a hoof. “Let me stop you right there. Here’s how things are going to go.” His eyes sharpened as he looked scornfully down at the Unicorn. “I’m going to be kind enough to ignore your insults to my subjects.”
“Subjects?” The battle mage, or the poor excuse that passed for one, laughed. “You think yourself to be a noble? You? Now that is rich. The day an Earth Pony claims any throne at all is the day a Unicorn marries him.”
Hammer Strike simply raised his hoof and stomped it on the ground as a ring of blue fire surrounded the Unicorn and his troops. “I would suggest you choose your next words wisely. From where I stand, you have no grounds.”
The Unicorns in the unit all looked warily at the fire. Sweat poured down their flanks from the sudden heat as it leaped joyfully into the metal of their armor. Their leader grit his teeth in frustration and growled. “So, you have a traitor with you. Do you really think that would intimidate us?”
Hammer Strike couldn’t help but chuckle to himself. “That’s about what I expected to come from you. Listen well. You can take your deal and shove it. We have our own work to be doing, and dealing with your problems isn’t on our list of priorities.”
“Our problems?” The Unicorn hissed and retreated when the ring flared at his confrontational approach. “We are trying to save what is left of Pony culture, heritage, and proper society.”
“By force,” Hammer Strike added on. “Which, last I recall, results in infighting. Listen, we can go on and on about your needs, but the fact shall forever remain. We don’t need you lot. Should any come here seeking asylum or a place to call home, we will grant them the same rights as others, and in turn our rules apply.”
The Unicorn’s voice was quiet now as he pawed the frozen turf. “Do you know who I am?”
“No. Nor do I really care.”
The Unicorn was momentarily speechless from the rather flippant response. His mouth dropped, then closed, then dropped again. Finally, his anger restored what incredulity had momentarily displaced. “You dare speak down to your betters? This village truly has fallen the farthest of any I have seen.”
“I’d say it’s more that we’re above you lot,” Hammer Strike replied simply. “Are we done here? I was in the middle of making dinner.”
The Unicorn glared at Hamer Strike for a few more seconds before turning around. “For now,” he said. “You have chosen to spur our offer. As such, the land remains free. I will report this development to the proper authorities. Good day.” His horn ignited as he turned and flicked his head toward the rear of the burning circle.
The flames didn’t budge.
He furrowed his brow. “Odd,” he murmured. He charged his horn again, and the ring glowed to brighten the intensity of his magical aura. Once again, he tossed his head with a dramatic flourish. Once again, the flames refused to yield.
“Here, let me help you with that,” Hammer Strike commented as he focused his thaumic energy on the amplifier the Unicorn was wearing, only to reverse its effect. “There you go.”
The ring suddenly flared with the crackle of energy not unlike electricity as the hairs around the base of the horn and some of his mane were singed. He winced as the magic was forcefully cut off, and stumbled back from the recoil, much to his subordinates’ dismay. “Wh-what—?”
“Problem?” Hammer Strike asked as he tapped his hoof to extinguish the flames around the group.
The noble tried to bring his magic to bear again and hissed as the ring reacted violently each time. He quickly removed it, only to discover his magic could flow again uninhibited. He gaped at the ring. “Impossible,” he whispered as he checked the rune work.
“Sir,” one of the Unicorns called.
The leader’s head snapped to attention as he hastily pocketed the ring and cleared his throat. “All right, full march. We have a lot of ground to cover yet,” he said. He flinched as he brought his hoof down on the blackened ring that had been left behind. No fire consumed him. No heat blazed against his armor. He carried on as though nothing had happened. “You may receive another delegation at a later date, earthwalker,” he called over his shoulder. “I recommend you be prepared to receive them.”
“Just a heads up!” Hammer Strike called out. “You send more to come make demands, I’ll order my guards to kill you all on sight.”
The Unicorn didn’t deign to reply, but the Gryphons looked uneasily at the walls and surrounding forest while the Kangaroo brought up the rear.
“Hey, Hurricane.” Hammer Strike turned to the Pegasus. “I’m not joking. If they come again with the same demands and are threatening any of us, they’re a lost cause.”
“So, ask what they want, and if they make demands, fire on sight?”
“Insults and demands. Sometimes they’re just … a nuance. If they’re aggressive and demanding, they’re doubtless going to plan something. Like him.” He gestured to the retreating group. “He’s definitely going to try something in the future.”
“Should I talk to Clover about some kind of alarm system?”
“Definitely. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I legitimately was in the middle of making dinner.”
The next few months were peaceful for the most part. Winter melted to spring and spring to summer. The population growth had slowed as less people had been showing up randomly. Trade went well as traveling traders having heard of the town began to show up in numbers looking to buy produce.
Ainz had found and killed the wendigo without issue, though he had yet to find the vampire. His tomb, however, had started to grow significantly as he found the remains of a few bodies the deeper he dug, and thus added to his labor force.
Hurricane had worked with Wall to improve the Earth Pony’s fighting techniques, and together, they designed a regimen for their various Pony recruits to serve as a defense force for Unity. He proved true to his record as a seasoned warrior, and he taught all his troops everything they needed to know to combat a trained Pegasus on the ground or in the air as the situation required.
The Gryphons had been kind enough to help with preparing ballistae and longbows that could be used for an advantage against ground troops and monsters that might try to attack. They also assisted in setting up perimeter alarms to warn of approaches from the ground and air.
Clover pulled her weight by offering some basic lessons to the Unicorns in the city, so they could defend themselves and project a barrier to help reinforce the walls against attack. As an added security measure, she went about putting up protective wards against foreign teleportation spells and tied it to the magic in Binding’s contracts, so that it would exclude citizens from the ban by recognizing their unique magical signatures.
All in all, things seemed to be going well. But Hammer Strike knew only too well what that meant.
The attack happened suddenly, late one night. Before anyone was even aware of it, several vampires had entered Unity. By the time the first screams were heard, blood had already been spilt.
Hammer Strike had already equipped himself, grabbing the silver sword, and any other bits of equipment he felt were needed before charging out of his house to the source of the problem.
Ainz appeared beside him in a spurt of black flames shortly after he left the house. The lich was covered in mask and gauntlets, and sliung spells that exploded with light in an attempt to draw the creatures out. “Seems they found a weak point in the perimeter.”
“Search for them and find their point of entry,” Hammer Strike ordered.
Ainz was gone almost as soon as the Pony was finished speaking. Clover was busy collecting up citizens nearby and placing them within a glowing circle.
“Clover, keep an eye out for any afflicted or injured!” he called out to her as he continued scanning the area around him for any variables he could work with.
“I’ll do the best I can. Binding headed out to find the herbalists,” she said. “He’s better at healing.”
“If we were attacked by what I think we were attacked by, I don’t know how well healing will work, unless he knows some more … advanced methods.”
“We really need to get a church or something,” Clover called back.
“We’ll start searching later.” Hammer Strike sighed, then muttered, “Damn it, we need better preparations.”
Hurricane and several recruits were attempting to fight a single sallow-looking Pony who fought bare-hooved, breaking shields and swords with what seemed to be little effort. Bolts bounced off it harmlessly.
Hurricane and the rest dropped back as the Earth Pony moved in. The vampire seemed to chuckle as it charged. Hammer Strike raised his blade and slashed. One strike was all it took as the Pony's head separated from its no-longer-undead corpse. Both burst into flame, leaving nothing but ash behind.
“At least that works,” Hammer Strike commented.
Hammerstrike waded through the panic, directing Ponies to Clover as he did. He encountered two more vampires, and the silver sword proved its worth with them as well. As he neared the area where the herbologists’ cabin had been, he saw flames in the distance and the white light of magic.
Poultice Solution and Bella were leaning in by Binding, not even looking at their house as they stared down in horror. Flash after flash followed as Binding attempted spell after spell. His face was made all the more pale and ravaged as his horn flickered desperately.
Despite his best efforts, nothing was working. By the light of the nearby fire, Hammer Strike looked over the Poultice’s shoulder, and there lay the sight that would haunt him for the rest of his days. There, in the snow, covered in blood, lay an unmoving foal.
Hammer Strike stopped in his tracks as he scanned over the scene before letting out the breath he was holding. There were no vampires nearby.
At least, … not yet.
“Sprout, come on, love. It’s daddy. Open those eyes for daddy,” poultice cooed through heavy sobs. “You know daddy loves those big eyes.” He couldn’t bear it after that. The stallion broke down hard.
Bella didn’t even get that far. Her wail tore through the night air. The flames that rose from their house seemed almost to flinch as she fell onto the corpse. Blood matted her fur, but she didn’t care as she brushed the foal’s mane. Her baby girl was gone.
And it had happened under Hammer Strike’s watch.
“Ainz!” Hammer Strike growled out into the night.
The lich answered his call immediately. “I managed to kill two more over i—” He stopped when he looked down. There was no need to ask what had happened here.
“Hunt them down. All of them,” Hammer Strike ordered as he looked to the group once more. Binding wrapped a consoling hoof over Poultice’s neck. Whatever words of comfort he may have offered were lost in the roar of fury that surged in Hammer Strike’s ears. “But don’t you dare kill them. I won’t grant them such a mercy.”
“I take it you mean aside from self defense?” Ainz clarified.
“Correct.”
“Shall I ... do what is necessary to keep the child from rising again?”
Hammer Strike shook his head. “I’ll handle this. Don’t give them an inch of room to escape.”
“I may have to employ demons for that.”
“Do it.”
Ainz said nothing. He merely lifted his hand and vanished. Moments later, Hammer Strike’s augments alerted him to several rifts opening around Unity, and the entities that crawled out from said rifts. But he didn’t care. If it took the forces of hell to keep his people safe, then the devil had better just tell him where to sign.
Hammer Strike turned back to the two grieving parents and approached slowly. The two parents’ distraught faces were made all the worse by what he knew had to be done. “Binding.” He sighed. “Go. I want you to help focus on town security.”
Binding nodded and rose slowly to his hooves. “I’ll … make sure to bring any other survivors to Clover.” He looked back one last time at the grieving family, then pushed up his glasses, set his shoulders, and strode away with his cloak billowing behind him. A grim expression had replaced his usual calm demeanor.
“Poultice, Bella.” Hammer Strike drew near the two. “I … I need you two to go to the town center.”
“Sprout?” Bella asked as she looked at her daughter. Hammer Strike knew what she was trying to say.
“...I’m sorry. Divine above, I am, but I can’t bring the dead back to life, and,” he sighed. “We’ll need to properly tend to her, or she’ll come back as something worse.”
“Come, love.” Poultice heaved a few times as he wrestled with his sops and draped a foreleg over her. “Let’s do what he asks.”
Bella stumbled to her hooves and leaned heavily on her husband. “Will we at least be able to bury her?”
“I … I’ll see what I can do. I’ll try everything I can.”
“Come along, Bella. Let’s go.” The two walked slowly away from the scene, leaning heavily onto one another for support.
Hammer Strike stared at Sprout’s corpse for a minute before growling out at the sounds around him. The crackling. The burning. And the constant roar.
At once, he swiped his hoof off to the side and extinguished the house fire. Then he took a shuddering breath as he steadied himself. He coated Sprout’s body using his thaumaturgy, being careful to alter her biological matter to render it completely inert. There would be no brain, no heart, no muscle, no vital organs. By the time he was finished, the body was one mass that could never be animated again.
With his grim work complete, he took claim over a blanket in the nearby vicinity and carefully wrapped the remains.
He let out his breath and reined in his emotions as he looked to the night sky. “I’ll make them regret everything. Every single choice they have ever made,” he swore. And he would keep that promise.
“So, anyone know why he called this meeting?” Clover asked. Once again, they were seated at a table, though this one was in a new room of the cabin. It had been set up recently and served as a sort of board room for the self-proclaimed lord. Six days had passed since the attack. In that time, the only time the three had seen Hammer Strike had been either when he’d come to receive reports from Ainz or to ask the three magic users specific questions regarding their staves.
“I am as stumped as you,” Ainz admitted.
“Given our leader’s grim resolve, drive, and focus, I would assume it has to do with his current aim of defense against and ultimately vanquishing any future foes of the undead persuasion,” Binding said. “To that end, I can think of only a few more immediate reasons that would make sense.”
“Until we know where they are, it doesn’t seem like there is much else we can do but shore up existing defenses,” Ainz observed.
“And that is my plan,” Hammer Strike commented as he stepped into the room.
“So, why did you need to see us?” Clover asked.
“I … need to do something with you two first.” Hammer Strike directed his attention to Binding and Clover.
“As ever, we are at your disposal,” Binding said.
“To ensure that nothing be left to chance, I need to issue a further contract between us.”
“A further contract?” Clover asked.
“To ensure nothing be left to chance, upon my authority as Thaumaturge, I issue this verbal contract,” Hammer Strike started as thaumic fire surrounded him. Ainz’s eyes seemed to flash as he sat up straighter, arms crossed expectantly. “Know that I hold no ill will, should this be declined. To keep your soul from swaying, no matter the creatures we face, I shall take claim over it. You will be unable to act against me through any means, so long as this contract is valid. In return, I bestow upon you two a connection to my power. To amplify your magics, and grant you new heights to reach. Lastly, you will be granted a new piece of equipment, something more powerful than this world could recreate freely. Should you accept this contract, these will be yours, and you, mine. If our paths do sour and our ways sway, you may end this contract by returning the piece of equipment to me.” His eyes focused on Binding and Clover. “Do you accept these terms?”
“What about if we die?” Clover asked, clearly shaken by the idea.
“Your soul will be released to the afterlife destined for your paths, come heaven or hell.”
“A most intriguing proposition,” Binding said. “I assume we won’t become undead like Ainz?”
“Not unless you extend the contract to last beyond your mortal life of your own free will.”
Binding shrugged. “I have no intention of doing so at this time, but I am intrigued by this process of yours. And I can’t very well serve you efficiently if I don’t accept what you offer, now can I?” He smiled as he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and the light reflected off the glass to cast an emotionless white in place of his orbs.
“I—that is, you said we can’t be tempted by anything?” Clover asked.
“No dark arts, demons, or anything between can sway you from my course.” He sighed. “To put it simply, they can’t sway a soul that is already owned.”
“Star Swirl wouldn’t like this,” Clover mumbled, then let out a heavy sigh of her own. “Very well. I swear to your terms.”
“Then our deal is made.” Hammer Strike held his hoof out toward the two as thaumic energy surrounded them for a few seconds before fading. “And in return, I feel comfortable about this.”
He swiped his hoof to the side as three staves appeared before the group present. Before any of them could reach out, each focus was coated in thaumic fire for a second before extinguishing.
The staff that appeared before ainz was easily the strangest, made completely out of some unknown alloy. It was full of twists and turns, odd angles and curves, and a couple of places that seemed like they’d been outrightly bent. Near the center, three water aspect crystals were embedded. The top formed a ringed golden bowl with seven snakeheads looking over the lip in all directions. Each mouth was open, and each held a separate aspect crystal. The moment Ainz touched it, a mass of darkness shot from the top and writhed for a moment before vanishing. Hammer Strike still wasn’t sure why the handle took its shape. He’d tried several times to straighten it, only for it to return to its awkward form. Still, as Ainz grasped it, it looked comfortable in his hands.
Binding’s staff was also odd, but not as chaotic as Ainz’s. It had a wooden handle carved from the root of Yggdrasil itself. The wood was still alive, from what Hammer Strike could tell. It ended at the bottom with a steel cap with a gold insignia near the front. The cap terminated into a long thin blade. Both the staff and the blade had a small diamond-shaped hole near the top. The top of the staff looked as though it had a large yellow and black device serving as a focal point, contained by a magic rune made out of metal clamped to both sides. The moment Binding picked it up in his magic, white light burst from the top and formed a maze of beams and streaks of light that, when finished deploying, arched over his head like a scythe blade.
Clover’s had a wooden handle as well, though it was slightly thicker than Binding’s and traced with vines of steel that had been treated to color green. At the end, a diamond-shaped ring was fixed onto the shaft. It was obviously very dense, as it handed a significant weight to the staff and could act as a blunt weapon if needed. The top transferred from wood and steel to what appeared to be emerald forming a stem-like design. The stem at the top formed a bulb. White spikes stuck out from the emerald, each an aspect crystal that pulled together to form a petal-like design. The entire head looked like a clover flower in bloom. It glowed with a soft warm right as Clover picked it up, and small shamrocks sprouted from the wood along the center.
When the three picked up their staves, a small wave of force erupted from the spot as their magic grew. The wave, Hammer Strike would later find out, moved through all of Unity, stopping just outside the borders.
“Take this power.” Hammer Strike looked at all three present. “And use it to the fullest. Defend Unity in its times of need, and ensure nothing of this level happens again.”
“This is amazing,” Clover said as she waved the staff a few times. “You only just gave it to me and it already feels like part of me”
“It’s connected to your very soul, something difficult to manage by standard means.”
“Curious,” Binding said as he eyed the scythe. “It looks almost as though it were made of quills or feathers of some sort. How appropriate.” He tapped the floor with the staff. The scythe retracted, and the staff became inert once again. “I look forward to using it in the future.” His gaze hardened. “There are many of those creatures who deserve payback and release.”
“This is amazing.” Ainz chuckled. “With this staff, I can already see so many new possibilities.”
“So long as you serve me, I will grant you whatever I can to keep everything running straight,” Hammer Strike commented. “Anything within my realm of possibility.”
“I won’t waste anything,” Ainz promised.
“And we will do our best to live up to your trust,” Binding said. “Thank you.”
“Yeah,” Clover said, still examining the staff. “Thank you.”
“Use them well to protect our people. That’s all I ask for now.”
Extended Holiday Chapter 169: Castlemania: The Elder Hunt
Hammer Strike frowned to himself as he looked over his current project. He was working on additional armor plating for the current guard established in Unity. The only problem with this model was the weight distribution.
“Ahem.” Ainz contacted him. “I have an inquiry.”
“Not busy at the moment, so go for it,” Hammer Strike replied as he continued to inspect the plate armor.
“I was thinking about reaching out to some friends, bring them into the fold and increase the potential for what we can do.”
“Should I press the question of what kind of friends?”
“Beings who study arts most Ponies would label ‘dark,’ but have no record of actively hurting anyone.”
“If you can bring them in under contract to ensure optimal safety,” Hammer Strike replied as he placed the current plate off to the side and moved on to the next. “I don’t need other targets on my list.”
“I was planning to have them agree to work under me. Thus, they’d likewise be tied to you through our oath.”
Hammer Strike hummed to himself. “I suppose that will work. Got any current ideas on options within your scope?”
“A few, but it will take some time to contact them.”
“Ensure that it’s second in your priorities. I want that elder vampire found as soon as possible.”
“I already have every resource I can spare on that matter. It shouldn’t be long.”
“Good. Every day that goes by with no signs is bothering me.”
“I understand.”
Hammer Strike sighed. “You’re clear to find and add them under your employ.”
“I’ll make sure they're discreet,” Ainz said. And then his presence went silent.
Hammer Strike rubbed his forehead. He had been at this for some time now, and it was honestly starting to get to him. The guard of Unity were well equipped. To be honest, they were almost too well equipped. Should any other nations come by, they would note the difference. He sighed and exited his workshop. As he entered the living room, he noted Celestia off in the kitchen preparing dinner. There were no signs of Luna.
“Your sister out working with the guard?” He asked.
“She said she wanted to patrol the perimeter.” Celestia frowned. “What happened shook us all in one way or another.”
“Yeah.” He sighed. “I think I’m going to go check out how things are going with everyone.”
“Given the general state of morale, that probably is a good idea. What time should I expect you back?”
“Hour or two, hopefully.”
Celestia nodded. “I’ll keep something warm for you.”
“Appreciated.” Hammer Strike nodded as he exited the house and started off in the direction of Poultice and Bella. He’d been keeping tabs on them to ensure they were stable after the recent incident.
As the lord approached the hut and its garden, he was surprised to see the kneeling form of a Gryphon in a glistening white coat bent over the mound that marked young Sprout’s grave. He held a silver wing between his talons as he bowed his head in prayer. His golden crest jutted up in spikes over his head. His main coat of feathers was a mixture of gray with tan accents. A scarf that had been carefully sewn with the symbols of Faust and her order draped from his neck as he prayed over the grave. A pair of glasses held on the bridge of his beak. A young Pegasus mare with a golden coat and mane stood patiently at his side, bearing a small vial filled with a clear substance. Her robe was closer to charcoal in color, with gold lining. Her mane draped around her face in such a way to almost give the impression of being a boy.
“I don’t believe I’ve seen either of you before,” Hammer Strike commented.
The Pegasus shushed him, using a wing to touch her lips. “Please, Father Anderson is in the middle of blessing this grave at the behest of the child’s parents.” Her accent was the familiar harsh Germane, the Equestrian equivalent of German. She passed the vial as the Gryphon extended his talons expectantly. He pulled the stopper out of the vial and continued the rite, invoking the name of Faust and her blessing as he sprinkled the contents over the mound and the tombstone that had been erected to mark the spot. When he finally finished the dedication, the Gryphon closed his eyes in a moment of silence, then slowly rose to all fours.
“Thank you, Heinkel.” The male’s voice was soft and almost musical as he spoke with a Scottish brogue. He dusted off his coat, then removed the scarf and folded it to place in a box Heinkel retrieved from her saddlebags. “I hope you’ll forgive me for not answering you immediately, but I wanted to show the lass some proper respect. The name’s Father Anderson. I felt the urge to come to this place.” He looked back to the house. “A short talk with the parents soon explained why.” He shook his head remorsefully. “This is Heinkel, my companion. We’re travelling ministers, seeking to spread the good word of Faust to those as want it.” His hands tightened after he mounted the necklace with the quill feather accessory on his neck again. “I hope you got the bastards that did it.”
“Those who were present, yes,” Hammer Strike replied. “The leader is more difficult to hunt down. I’m Hammer Strike,” he said by way of introduction.
“A pleasure to make your acquaintance. As I said, my companion and I are strangers in this land. But, it appears we’ve found a community in need of what little comfort we might be able to provide. Tell me, do you know of a place where we might be able to spend the night?”
“We’ve actually got an inn set up farther in town. I can show you,” Hammer Strike offered.
“Thank you, Hammer Strike. Do you mind waiting for a moment? I'd like to let the family know we’ve finished.”
“Not at all. I had come to check up on them, anyway.”
Anderson smiled and motioned with a wing. “Then, by all means.”
It didn’t take them long to alert the two parents, and though tears shone in their eyes, each expressed their gratitude in kind. The lack of a proper religious dedication had bothered both of them immensely. With the blessing of the grave, the ground could never be defiled by undead hooves. Their daughter’s corpse, or what remained of its original makeup, was now safe. The sun was dropping low in the horizon as they left the home and strode down the path toward town.
“You’re the first Gryphon priest I’ve seen. Of Faust, no less.”
The Gryphon shrugged. “I’ve had to fight for everything I had before. I did things that I’m not proud of. Things changed for me when I donned the cloth for the first time. A kindly Unicorn taught me about the goddess that showed her how to care for others. Only the South Wind’s servants came close to that ideal. And they weren’t there when they were needed.” He shook his head, as if to dispel a dark memory. “Faust gives everyone a chance, or at least her true followers do. And if she’s willing to accept someone like me, well, either she’s grown from when she first rejected us or she’s more desperate than I thought.”
“I’d lean toward grown,” Hammer Strike replied. “How long do you believe you’ll be in town?”
“Well, if the state of the rest of these good people are at all like that family, it could be a while. Of course, I wouldn't want to be stepping on anypony’s hooves. You wouldn’t happen to know where I can find the mayor or chieftain of this settlement, would you?”
“That would actually be me.” Hammer Strike gave a soft smile. “Both, in technicality.”
Anderson laughed. “Well, I’ll be damned!” He clapped his hand heavily on Hammer Strike’s back. “Heinkel, break out the wine skin. This deserves a celebration!”
“Any particular reason for looking for me?”
“To ask your permission to stay, of course. I thought it was obvious.” He let out a jilting bark of a laugh as a glint suspended between manic and mirthful shone in his eyes.
“Honestly, we could use a priest.” Hammer Strike rubbed the back of his head. “Blessings and such would prove useful in times like these.”
Anderson took a swig from the skin, then offered it to the Earth Pony. “Then you’ve got yourself a deal. On one condition.”
Hammer Strike took the skin and raised a brow as he took a drink himself.
“None of this tithes and mandatory offerings nonsense. Oh, and you won’t get mad at me if I curse or swear. I may be a male of the cloth, but I’m still a Gryphon.”
“That’s … actually fine,” Hammer Strike replied with some surprise. “I was expecting something different. Not sure what, but something.”
“He does that a lot,” Heinkel noted with a warm smile. “I’ve yet to meet someone he hasn’t surprised.”
“Well, here’s hoping your time here will be … stable,” Hammer Strike replied. “I’ll tell Binding about our meeting, and he’ll come to you to discuss details.”
“We’ll be sure to give him a proper welcome. Don’t you worry.” He grinned, and the lenses on his glasses suddenly flashed white as he bore his teeth beneath his beak.
“Glad to hear it.”
“Hammer Strike, when you have a moment, can you come to the gatehouse?” Ainz’s voice played over the link.
Ainz looked out upon the road, he’d been there since dawn in full mask and gauntlets, waiting for the guest he’d invited.
“I’ll be a while. Currently in the middle of something,” Hammer Strike replied over the link.
“Take your time.”
As he waited, Ainz worked his magic on the trees around the gatehouse. Alarm and other enchantments appeared as runes carved into the trees.
A Unicorn with a dark messy blue mane and tail with equally deep blue eyes trekked over a hilltop and approached the Minotaur. His gaze was one hardened by grim resolve, and his body rippled with muscle that was the result of intense training beyond what any Pony normally would endure. He stood a good head above most other stallions, and the barest hint of a horn jutted out from the mess of his mane. A dark blue shirt wrapped tightly around his barrel, and was complemented by a set of pauldrons and a glittering sword that rested on his back.
“Would it be safe to assume you are Ainz Ooal Gown?” the stallion asked as he approached.
“And you are Jostling Joyance?” Ainz asked, nodding.
Jostling nodded in return. “A pleasure to meet you, despite the circumstances.”
“I’ve heard from many sources that you're an expert on vampires,” Ainz noted. “My lord has a vaunted interest in wiping out a particular coven from existence.”
“I wouldn’t say I’m an expert.” The stallion rubbed the back of his head. “But, I can certainly offer knowledge and assistance.”
“They killed a child,” Ainz noted. “If that helps you understand.”
Jostling nodded as his brow furrowed. “They’ll take any easy targets they can get. Are there any priests in town?”
“One. He just arrived a fortnight ago.” Ainz nodded. “We do not have a church yet, however.”
Jostling rubbed his chin in thought. “It might be for the best to get that up as soon as possible. The best I can do until then is teach other Unicorns a few spells to replicate sunlight.”
“Anything you can offer would likely be highly appreciated. We can pay you, if need be.”
He shook his head. “No need. Just clearing out vampires is good enough for me.”
It was at this point that Ainz heard hoof steps approaching the two of them. When he turned, he noticed Hammer Strike walking up to the duo.
“Ah, Hammer Strike, allow me to introduce Jostling Joyance. He’s a vampire hunter of some renown.” Ainz gestured between them.
Hammer Strike nodded. “A pleasure to meet you.”
“Likewise.” Jostling returned the nod.
“Have you shown him around town yet, Ainz?” Hammer Strike asked.
“I thought it would be more polite to wait until I had your permission,” Ainz admitted.
“You’re clear.” Hammer Strike gave a small smile. “I’m sorry, but I don’t think I can stick around for long. I’ve still got more work to do.”
“Of course, Sir. Thank you for coming.”
“I’ll come by to check up on you later today, if that’s all right.”
“No issues, whatsoever,” Jostling replied.
“Until then.” Hammer Strike gave a brief wave as he departed from the pair.
“I’m sorry about that. He’s very busy. That stallion puts his whole being into keeping the people here happy,” Ainz said as he gestured for Joyance to follow him.
“I can see that; though…” Jostling frowned. “He doesn’t seem to look after himself that way.”
“What do you mean?”
“He works tirelessly to keep the people happy, but you can see it in his eyes. It’s like there’s an inferno in his soul.”
Ainz looked curiously in the direction Hammer Strike had left. “I suppose I never thought about it.”
“Does he have anyone with him, family, close friends?”
“He has two adopted daughters. The rest, he’s never explained, and I’ve never felt open enough to ask.”
“I hope they can help him.” Jostling’s frown deepened. “That kind of anger changes Ponies.”
Hammer Strike sighed to himself as he looked over his assortment of weapons. While he had plenty of variety, they lacked the ability to deal with their current issues. It was difficult for him to work with when he lacked the knowledge of their list of enemies. He knew vampires, yes, but what if there were others?
He rubbed at his head as he thought on it. While he wasn’t sure of the list, he could prepare for any of the potential options. No matter what lay in his path, he would deal with it.
“It’s never that simple.” The voice Hammer Strike heard could only be described as sallow, and sallow definitely described the figure who stepped into his view, a tall gangly gray Earth Pony stallion, gaunt to the point of looking starved with deep black eyes that seemed to have tiny pinpricks of light. Even Hammer Strike found he couldn’t look into those pinpricks, however, for the heat that burned in them. The stallion wore a simple baggy black overcoat over his body. His thin and unhealthy mane fell limply to one side.
“Of course it isn’t.” Hammer Strike turned towards his weapons. It took some effort to rein in his usual response.
“You know those couldn’t hurt me,” the stallion said passively.
“I know, but that doesn’t mean I don’t have something for embodiments.” He sighed. “But I know better than to sway the world as such.”
“That, and you don’t want my job,” the stallion noted. “Nobody wants to be Wrath. Well, the stupid people do. They think it’s all unending fury and destruction. If only they knew.”
“None of you embodiments match the image that mortals give you,” Hammer Strike replied.
“You haven’t met War.” Wrath shrugged. “He’s pretty much what you’d expect.”
“Honestly, I don’t care to meet him, anyway.” Hammer Strike pulled up a few of his throwing knives and started checking their condition. “Though it may come off as rude or insulting, some of you embodiments cause me great amounts of stress. It’s a rare number that do not.”
“I hope you don't meet him. Honestly, I'm here as a favor to Mother. You need to vent your anger or you're going to end up like me, burned out, uncaring.” He sighed. “I know what happened was hard, but wrath can get you killed, too, you know.”
“I know,” Hammer Strike replied simply. “However, my methods of venting are currently non-existent, unless a nation comes to fight me. That, or I get my hooves on the Elder Vampire I’m hunting.”
“You paint,” the embodiment offered lazily.
“Don’t have the supplies for it, and it would take some time to gather them.”
“You really believe that, or is that for my benefit?”
“If I am to do such things, I will not go halfway. Certain paints require materials outside of this region if they are to last in a proper manner.”
“For most artists, yes,” Wrath acquiesced. “But you’re hardly most anythings.”
“I can’t; not yet.” Hammer Strike stopped inspecting his knives. “Not until that vampire is dealt with.”
“You know, I have a very interesting relationship with my family. Honestly, the only one who seems to like me besides War, who I despise, is Sacrifice. My sister constantly enjoys the situations mortals who partake of me put themselves in, the things they’ll give up to her to feed my flames and keep going. I’ve seen families, friends, love, and countless others burned at a pyre for me. I wonder which of those things you’re going to foolishly give up.”
“None.” Harmony’s figure wavered into existence next to Hammer Strike, and a sense of calm filled the room. “I owe him that much. And if he won’t listen to me, I have other means to protect him.”
“Sister, even you can’t protect him from harms he would bring upon himself. You are ancient, but remember that my set of siblings is far more ancient than you.”
“That is true, but that does not mean I cannot protect him in my own way, even as you seek to do the same. To do nothing will make what you foresee a certainty.”
Hammer Strike sighed to himself as he put his knives away.
“Mother asked me to warn him. That's all I intended to do.”
Harmony nodded. “And may we expect to see you again in the near future?”
“Hopefully not, but likely.” Wrath sighed.
“Is there any word about Discord?” Her voice was strained as she looked imploringly to the embodiment.
“Your twin is not adjusting well,” Wrath admitted. “He has been expunged into a world that cannot understand him. He is lashing back at it.”
“I … I see.” Spectral tears swam in the projection’s eyes. “I had hoped….” She dashed those tears away and shook her head. “I suppose it doesn’t matter now. If he goes too far, I’ll have little choice but to prepare a means to counter him.” She drew herself up against the grief and steadied her stance in resolve.
“I would start sooner, rather than later,” Wrath advised.
“I will consult with Hammer Strike on the matter after this crisis is resolved.” She looked remorsefully at the Pony. “After I apologize for my rudeness.”
“I should leave,” Wrath said, turning to go.
Harmony nodded. “Goodbye, brother. And … thank you, for coming here today. You should know that you have at least one more family member who doesn’t hate you.”
Wrath stopped, suddenly stiffening for a moment. “Goodbye, sister. Be careful. Mother worries.” With that, he vanished as he walked away.
As soon as Wrath left, Hammer Strike exhaled and placed a hoof on his forehead. “Nothing is ever simple,” he repeated.
Harmony smiled forlornly and rested a hoof comfortingly on his shoulder. “No, it rarely is. But it is worth it when it all comes together.” She sighed. “Sorry for excluding you like that. I know it must have frustrated you. I just … when I felt Wrath’s presence, I worried. I didn’t know what he would want. I …” She furrowed her brow. “I suppose I wanted to protect you. That is … strange to me. I don’t think I’ve ever felt this way before. Is this concern, this protectiveness I feel, an expression of love?”
Hammer Strike raised a brow as he looked to Harmony. “Unsure. Though protectiveness does make sense, given the situation.”
“I … need some time to process this. I won’t be far. You will … call me, if you need, won’t you?”
Hammer Strike nodded with a small smile.
Hammer Strike rubbed his forehead as he thought through his plans. The great black expanse of his secret forge’s storage space stretched before him. This space gave him the optimal workplace for his current project.
Before him was a rough shape of silver. For the last few hours, he had been thaumically cleansing it of anything that wasn’t silver, resulting in a perfect purity. The problem with such methods was that in order to keep the blade in optimal shape and structural stability, he had to cleanse it thaumically after almost every strike of his hammer. It was an exhausting project that drained him of energy and stamina over the course of the hours with each cleanse.
It was worth it to him, however. Though it may have been a lengthy process, and would certainly drain him of power until it was complete, it would leave him with a perfect silver blade, unable to be tarnished or altered in any way. And that was just what he needed right now.
“I’ve been curious about something, lad,” Mimir commented from the side table he had been placed on. “That field of power you’re usin’; how exactly did you happen across it?”
“It’s been a long time since then. Best answer I can give you is crossing the veil,” Hammer Strike replied as he continued his work.
“That’s the thing. Crossing between worlds shouldn’t have given you that field of power. Those tunnels are made to help you cross safely for a reason.”
Hammer Strike shook his head. “Didn’t use a proper tunnel. Ended up accidentally piggy-backing on something. I can’t remember what, though.”
Mimir fell silent.
Hammer Strike paused in his work before turning toward Mimir, who held a look of shock.
“You’re tellin’ me you crossed between the worlds, through the most dangerous method possible, and yer’ still standing?”
“Uh. Yeah?”
“That’s just not possible, lad. The tunnels are made to keep pryin’ eyes off others as they travel. Yeah, it’s not used often, but it’s still important!”
“I figured that, especially when said prying eyes are hovering over me.”
“Well, that certainly explains some things…” Mimir commented.
Hammer Strike raised a brow before continuing his work. “What do you mean?”
“Lad, you’re a paranoid stallion. Well, more than anyone else in your shoes would be. It’s startin’ to make sense why, if you’ve got them lookin’ in on you.”
Hammer Strike frowned as he pulled the silver blade out of the furnace and quickly cleansed it of any impurities.
“I suppose it’s at least helpin’ you keep things on the straight an’ narrow.” Mimir sighed. “Though you really should look after yourself a bit better.”
“I meant the eating part,” Mimir replied flatly. “We’ve been in here some amount of time now. I’m sure your daughters are starting to get a little worried.”
Hammer Strike frowned in response. “I’ve got to make more progress on this blade. Plus, I dilated the time a little, so it’s been less time out there than in here.”
“I still don’t get how you managed to get those two to make you this place.” Mimir frowned. “You’d have to have given them something technically impossible.”
“Just some bone and an unbreakable anvil.”
Mimir blinked a few times before replying, “I’m sorry. I think I misheard you. Did you say unbreakable?”
Hammer Strike groaned as he exited his workshop. He had been working on the silver blade for some length of time. Honestly, he didn’t keep track of how long he was out. There was still plenty of work to be done on the weapon, but he needed to check around town with how long he had been working. So much needed to be maintained. The barriers and runes; checking in on Ainz, Clover, and Binding for status updates; and checking some choice residents.
Magic clamped on him like a vice as yellow and blue covered him in perfect unity. Celestia and luna approached him with both horns blazing.
Hammer Strike simply blinked a few times as he thought on their reasoning. “I missed dinner, didn’t I?”
“You missed a lot more than that, Father,” Celestia said. A small red vein throbbed on the side of her head, the only sign of her frustration as she addressed him in a calm tone.
“You’ve been at work for twenty-four hours,” Luna growled. “Straight.”
“Have I?” Hammer Strike asked as he thought on it. He chose to not tell them about the time dilation part. “Sorry, I guess I just got wrapped up in my work. Silver blades take a ridiculous amount of time.”
“You’re not working today,” Luna told him. It was clearly not up for debate. “Hurricane, Clover, Ainz, and Binding have already been informed. Today, you’re resting.”
“Even if we have to drag you back to the house,” Celestia finished.
“To be fair, lad,” Mimir spoke up from his side. “We were in there awhile. Also, could either of you lessen up on the grasp on me?”
“There’s still plenty to do.” Hammer Strike sighed. “The protection charms and runes need to be checked, Anderson is in need of marble from the mine, the supply house needs to be inventoried.” He sighed again. “Ex Divinia Etiam. There really is a lot to do.”
“Then delegate. Do you really think we can’t all shoulder a few responsibilities to give you the chance you need to rest?” Celestia asked. “We’re not foals anymore.”
Hammer Strike opened his mouth to respond, only to close it as he hummed. Their words held truth. They were long past the days of foalhood. “I … guess you’re right.”
“You know we’re right,” Luna said.
“Now come on. You’re going to get something to eat, and then you’re going to bed,” Celestia said. “We’ve already got the chores divided.”
“Yeah, that sleep thing, kinda… doesn’t work on my end,” Hammer Strike commented. “I’m positive at least one of you noticed that I don’t really sleep.”
“Then take a walk, read a book, do something that isn’t work!” Luna growled.
And if that fails, we’ll give you a sleeping draught,” Celestia said.
“All right, all right.” Hammer Strike sighed. “I’ll take a break. Wander town or something, since I’ve already read through everything we have.”
“First, a meal. Then you can pass through town, after you promise us not to lift a single hoof in any form of exertion other than walking.” The pink-maned Alicorn glared to bring her point home.
“Fine. I’ll eat, and I promise not to work for…” he glanced between the two to gauge an appropriate amount of time before sighing. “A few days. All right?”
“Very well.” Luna sighed.
“I suppose that will have to do for now,” Celestia agreed grudgingly.
“By the way,” Hammer Strike commented as he raised his hoof. The restraints suddenly broke as he applied pressure against their efforts. “Distribute the magic more evenly, if you’re going for a good restraint.” He continued to walk toward the dining room without stopping.
Luna didn’t bother to say anything. She simply shook her head and sighed.
Celestia gave voice to what they both already knew. “This may be more difficult than we first thought.”
Hammer Strike sighed to himself as he explored the market in Unity. He was keeping true to his word of no work, but it was beginning to get to him, and after wandering town for some time, Celestia and Luna accused him of patrolling.
Which may or may not have been subconsciously true.
One Earth Pony traveler had set up a stall with a myriad of colors next to small containers of powders of the corresponding color.
Hammer Strike scanned over the containers in front of him to determine, much to his surprise that it was paint supplies. “Where’d you happen to gather this much of a collection?
“I’ve travelled around a lot. Sometimes, I get lucky and a Unicorn or even a Gryphon is willing to trade some.” The stallion chuckled. “You interested in paint?”
“The whole kit, actually,” Hammer Strike looked up. “How much we talking?”
“Ten pounds of gold,” the stallion said after taking time to consider it.
Hammer Strike nodded as he reached into his coat and pulled out an appropriate amount. He placed two small plates of gold on the table before the stallion, each marked for his own convenience with a five.
The Earth Pony took the slabs and gave them a quick weight test before putting together a kit for Hammer Strike.
The lord collected his supplies and set off toward home. After some debate, he decided to give it a go outside and placed his equipment out near the house. He frowned to himself as he searched around to determine his best subject before settling on a painting of the house overlooking the growing town nearby.
He hummed aloud as he moved everything into an appropriate position near for him to work with before setting up the makeshift easel and rough canvas.
Before he started, however, he noted his augments taking in every minor detail around himself. Using what knowledge he could, he focused on just the canvas to let it become the primary point of attention, leaving the world around him in a calmer light before finally getting to work.
He’d been painting for an hour at least when Celestia came upon him and peered at the canvas with some surprise. “You paint?”
“I used to do it more often,” Hammer Strike replied as he glanced over to her. “I saw a stallion in town selling the supplies and…” he shrugged. “I figured why not.”
“Did you have a subject in mind, or are you just free painting?”
Hammer Strike gestured toward the house and town, then back to his painting.
“So, a landscape?”
“I figured this will give me a reference to see how things grow over time. That, and you can’t accuse me of working when it’s something this simple,” he finished with a small smile.
Celestia smirked. “Is this where I’m supposed to say I’ve got my eye on you and sound like some sort of creeper?”
“Please. If I didn’t want to be seen, I could manage it easily. I figured I’d be nice and play by rules you both can manage.”
Celestia smiled. “I’m glad you told me. I’m sure Luna will be excited to hear it for our next family training session, once you’re recovered enough.”
Hammer Strike held up a hoof. “Let me show you a little something.” He smirked as thaumic fire surrounded his hoof. “And no, this isn’t effort or work,” he commented before Celestia could add anything. “I learned this trick to help out a good friend of mine, and honestly, I never really thought of it in any other way.”
He held out his hoof as a dome of embers surrounded the two of them. It took Celestia a moment to realize it, but as Hammer Strike brought his hoof to his left, she noticed the world around them stop and go back. Ponies in the distance were moving backwards as everything shifted around them until it stopped, right at sunrise. “But it sure does help with the view.”
Celestia gaped at the sight. “What … what just happened?”
“We aren’t actually traveling through time, as that takes a lot more effort. This is simply…” He frowned, thinking it over in his head. “Think of it as a video on your tablets, I can simply rewind our view.”
“This is a projection, then?”
“Basically.” He smiled.
“What do people see outside of it?”
“Us before I started this process. Honestly, it can be anything I choose.”
“And if they try to talk to us?”
“I’ll be alerted to it.” He smiled before dropping the dome around them and taking hold of his brush again.
Celestia watched in silence for a time as Hammer Strike continued his work. Eventually, her hoof began to scuff the ground. She peered at the various powders as Hammer Strike added the water and reconstituted the paints to brush the canvas. “How long have you been painting?”
“On this one, or in general?”
“In general.”
Hammer Strike placed a hoof on his chin as he thought. “In technicality, I started … uh.” he blinked a few times. “A couple hundred years ago for me?”
“You’re that old?”
“Hey,” Hammer Strike feigned being offended. “You Alicorns live on for thousands of years, and I’ve got to match it. I’m not that old.” He looked back to his painting before adding mentally, ‘For Ponies, at least.’
“You are, compared to us right now,” she pointed out.
“Give it some hundred to a thousand years.” He shook his head. “Divine above, that doesn’t sound right.”
“Well, right or wrong, I suppose it’s going to be our future for now. And speaking of the future,” she said as she eyed the paint brushes and colors, “I’m curious. Could you teach me how to paint?”
“I mean, I’ve certainly got time.” He chuckled. “Sure. Let me finish this up and I’ll show you the basics.”
Though he didn’t want to admit it, the days that he spent not working actually refreshed his mind. The silver blade that he had spent so many hours on was nearly complete now. Mimir wasn’t with him this time around, but the silence helped in a way.
Using some of the world tree root available to him, he had fashioned a grip from it before completing the handle with a simple wrap of leather. The bottom of the blade used a more simple pommel, ending with a spike just in case of close encounters.
Once the weapon was complete, he held his hoof against the blade. Thaumic energy seeped from him onto the surface. He looked over the aspect of the silver and ensured perfect purity before securing the seal, resulting in the blade being unable to change physically or take on new aspects without his permission.
He couldn’t help but smile at the finished product. The amount of time and energy this project took from him was beyond standard, but it was finally complete. He took hold of the blade and lifted it into the light from his forge fire, giving it a once-over to ensure everything was properly balanced and aligned.
Reaching out to his work table, he took hold of the sheath he had made for the blade and slid the weapon home with a soft click. He grinned and placed the sheath on his back, then pulled out his waystone to focus on his way out. Once he was clear, he gave a soft smile as he looked around his bedroom before exiting into his living room. He had plans to test the blade on some of the practice dummies he’d crafted.
“You look pleased with yourself.” Harmony manifested a few seconds later to observe the Pony’s smile. “I take it you were successful?”
“Yep,” he replied. “After many days of work, it’s finally complete. I planned on putting it to the test on some of the training dummies.”
“It won’t tarnish?”
“Never.”
“Then you simply have the consecration. Have you located a suitable candidate to perform the blessing?”
Hammer Strike’s smile dropped slightly. “Damn it, I knew I was forgetting something.”
“Can you not make use of the priest?”
“The church isn’t established.” Hammer Strike sighed. “It’d be hard to get a blessing with the wrong setting and establishment. That, and I don’t know if Faust would bless weapons. That seems a little more into Slephnir’s territory.”
“He would, but who knows what he’d add to it,” another voice chimed in beside Hammer Strike.
Hammer Strike took a breath. There was one thing he didn’t like, and that was someone sneaking up on him. After a second, he turned to the source of the voice with a raised brow.
The mare was a pale white bespeckled with gray and black patches along her flanks. Her face was pure and radiated a gentle glow. Her wings sparkled with silver specks that shone like a cluster of stars. Unlike other Ponies, who wore silver or gold horseshoes to enhance their appearance, this mare’s hooves were literally silver and cloven in two. A long tail swayed gracefully behind her and hovered silently in the air as her silver mane billowed like the finest clouds that kissed the sky. Her frame was built more like the Horses of Saddle Arabia: tall, sleek, and toned with muscle built for speed, endurance, or combat as the case required. A long spiraling horn radiated with the corona that surrounded her body. Her eyes reflected the light of the stars when Hammer Strike peered into them, and a familiar sadness hovered just behind those orbs. He had seen this mare before, in what felt like a lifetime ago.
“Hello,” she said, plucking the sword out of his grip and examining it.
Hammer Strike blinked a few times before sighing. “To what do I owe the pleasure, Bonnie?”
“Well, I figured you’d be encouraged to go on a little crusade against the undead after what happened. It’s in my best interest to enable you.”
Hammer Strike raised a brow. “Why do you all give me such mixed signals? I’m told that I need to calm things back and cool off, and it’s followed immediately by, ‘go get them.’” He sighed.
“Yes, yes. Wrath and the embodiments,” she said tiredly. “They have their points, but in the end, I simply loathe undead, vampires most of all. Yes, I know about your pet and his operations, but I’m willing to ignore that. I trust you have it in hand. I’m not trying to smooze you or mess with your life. I’m only here because our interests align,” she stated bluntly. “None of those stupid mind games my husband plays with you.”
“That’s … refreshing,” Hammer Strike replied after a moment. “Also, no worries about Ainz. He’s bound thaumically, and it would utterly destroy him to sway.”
“Now, this sword of yours. It’s impressive, I’ll admit. But we both know one silver blade’s not going to be enough, and I doubt even you love smithing enough to do this over and over.” she ran a hoof over the blade and it seemed to adopt a shimmer as it absorbed the blessing.
Hammer Strike couldn’t hold back a shudder at the concept for forging that blade again.
“And because my husband thinks himself so clever, he didn’t bother to give you what you need for this situation, so I will.”
“I appreciate it,” Hammer Strike replied. “Honestly don’t know how long it would have taken me to figure out an alternative. While I could do it through my means, it doesn’t really work if the pseudo blessing doesn’t have a higher power to attach to.”
“Well, you’ve studied the way enough. You should be aware that sometimes runes and meanings can be more economical than the usual answer,” she noted. “What you wouldn’t know is that me and my husband, when we wrote the languages of magic for this world, created several ‘bane’ markings to deal with threats that may become troublesome. They’re supposed to have been dispersed amongst mortals, but … you’ve met Sleipnir.”
“Yeah,” Hammer Strike looked towards his rear hooves. “And got some unremovable horseshoes out of it. As for the runes and such, yeah, knew they existed. Never seen one, though.”
“Ironically, you always get so close,” she said as she produced a slip of parchment. Slowly, a symbol burned itself onto it, a circle with a winged sword inside it, only the wings were spread wide open. “The rune that ends all vampires. Place it on any weapon you have, and that weapon becomes instantly imbued with the ability to kill them. Permanently.”
“Wait, I was that close off of just dumb luck?” Hammer Strike looked over the mark.
Bonnie shrugged. “You mortals like to say that truth is stranger than fiction.”
Hammer Strike sighed. “Only vampires, or does it work on other creatures as well?”
“Varying degrees of success, but it should work on everything.” she nodded. “Creatures of the night tend to be eerily similar in their most basic attributes. Though lycanthropes may be immune. I’ve never tested it.”
“Well, the silver will work on that part, at least.” Hammer Strike shrugged.
“Also, in roughly a decade, maybe longer, you’ll begin hearing tales of a monster called Grogar. I would appreciate it if you’d send your monster to kill that monster.”
“I’ll … keep that in mind.”
Bonnie sighed. “I suppose I should apologize for deceiving you earlier, but my children are … stubborn, and I had been looking for a way to kill that cursed bear for two generations.”
Hammer Strike blinked a few times before it finally clicked. “So, that was you. I couldn’t figure out who it was, though I knew it was someone higher on the mark.”
“My powers were … low at that point. No faith. And with my name almost totally forgotten, that was the only identity I could draw power from. I had to use alternate methods.”
Hammer Strike frowned. “Now that I think about it, I haven’t heard of many churches in your name after the fall of the Alicorns.”
“The Alicorns and the Gryphons remembered my name, but the Gryphons don’t worship me, and the Alicorns are all gone now. Only the moon gets anything these days.”
“I’ll try to assist in that regard, then.” Hammer Strike looked to Bonnie. “Though, I can’t guarantee it working.”
“Not at this time, but when you go back. Scholars are aware I exist already, but none of the Ponies know who I am.” She gave him a sad smile. “I’m putting the future in your hooves.”
“Well, you certainly put some weight on me.” He chuckled. “I’ll see to it.”
“Then I should go. I wish you well in your endeavors.” She set the parchment on a coffee table. “Goodbye, Hammer Strike.”
“Until next time, Bonnie.”
The brazen sound of trumpets broke the stillness of the early morning as five columns of troops, each twenty in length, tromped up to the settlement walls. A smaller Unicorn in a smooth satin doublet emerged and levitated a scroll, then called in a penetrating voice.
“Hear ye, hear ye! The honorable Count Drakenfeller, Son of Snowbane Drakenfeller, Earl of the southern flatlands, has arrived to parlay with the baron of these lands. Will the baron receive him?”
“Pull the other one,” a Unicorn guard called down, snickering to his fellows.
“Will your lord receive him?”
“His lordship should be aware that Hammer Strike has authorized us to fire with the intent to kill, should you come making demands or attempting to force your way in. This is your only warning. The next will be an arrow between your eyes,” the Unicorn said, holding his crossbow for emphasis.
“We have no desire for combat, but our lord insists on an audience, not to force or make demands, but rather to make a proposition. If your forces are uncomfortable with his guard’s presence, he is willing to enter with a small delegation whilst the remainder camp a sufficient distance from your walls.”
Hurricane stepped up now. “Your lord may bring five with him, no more,” he said. “Our Ponies have their crossbows trained, and should any more of you move so much as a hair when the door opens, we’ll skewer the lot of you. Is that clear?”
One of the soldiers stepped forward and removed his helmet to reveal a shock of golden mane and a deep blue fur coat. His eyes were an uncharacteristic red. “Your demands are suitable,” he called back.
“Open the gate,” Hurricane commanded, and the gate opened.
The noble was flanked by two swordsponies, two mages, and a burly Earth Pony stallion sheathed in metal with a horn forged on his helmet. Calm green eyes surveyed the other warriors with the casual air of one well-acquainted with such circumstances. The Pegasus soon met them as the gates swung shut.
“A Pegasus. That explains how Starflight’s forces were so easily intimidated. Your tribe and war are old friends.” The count extended a hoof. “You are to be commended for the skillful upkeep of this settlement’s defenses.”
Hurricane accepted the hoof, but kept his tone placid. “My tribe decided they didn’t like me being lenient toward other Ponies. They beat me, starved me, and left me to die, Count. Hammer Strike saved my life and gave me purpose again. I don’t care how your nobility considers it. I want this to be clear. You will show him respect while you’re here. Because you’d be hard pressed to find a Pony in this village who wouldn’t die for him.”
Drakenfeller’s brow furrowed. “So, the sickness spreads,” he muttered, then shook his head. “Rest assured, any Pony that can gain such respect from so wide and varied a population of subjects is worthy of his post. While I don’t know if I have saved my subjects’ lives, I am grateful to have at least won their respect. No ruler deserves to lead without that.”
“Count Drakenfeller.” Clover’s voice spoke from nearby as they turned to find Hammer Strike backed by Clover, Ainz, and Binding, as well as two armed Gryphons carrying great axes.
The count raised a staying hoof as his soldiers instinctively reached for their weapons. “Steady,” he ordered, then turned to address the gathering. “Clover. This is a surprise, I must admit. Many have been wondering where you got off to in the court. Platinum, especially.”
“Then the … queen has not told the court of my secession or the renouncement of my oaths to her,” Clover said. “Tell me, does she still attempt to keep appearances or has she finally admitted she is in over her head?”
“You know the answer already. Doubtless, you’ve scried her many times.”
“I have not wasted the time,” Clover said with an edge to her voice. “I have much more to do here.”
“It appears you have done quite a lot already. From what little I’ve seen of this town, you all have done quite well.”
“You give me far too much credit. The town and its wellbeing can be accredited to none other than my oath holder, Hammer Strike, mayor of Unity.” She gestured to the Pony in question, clearly wanting the conversation to be done and away from her.
“A pleasure.” Hammer Strike gave a nod of acknowledgement.
“I am told you carved your way out of this harsh wilderness in the midst of the attack from the windigo. Is this true?”
“That would be correct.”
“Then I can see why so many have come to respect you. I know from one why they are loyal. Such strength is to be commended. But I can see you wish me to get to the point. As such, let me be blunt. I wish to form an alliance.”
“An alliance? That’s a rare thing to hear,” Hammer Strike commented with a raised brow. “What exactly are you looking for?”
The count’s horn glowed briefly as he peered at the skies and the surrounding area. “Can you ensure no one can hear us?”
“As you wish.” Binding’s staff rose in his magical grip, and he seized it in his hoof, then tapped its base on the ground. The rune at the top flared to life, and the scythe emerged. He tapped the ground again, and rivulets of runes and script flowed over the ground to form a massive magical circle. “By this contract, the two negotiating parties agree that all discussions shall remain private between the two spokesponies in the form of Hammer Strike and this Count Drakenfeller. No outside party shall be able to see, hear, or otherwise intrude on these negotiations without prior consent from both primary representatives. All others who are privy to this discussion shall not discuss it with outside parties without prior knowing and uncoerced consent from their representative. Do you all agree to these terms?”
Hammer Strike simply nodded. Drakenfeller did the same, then turned expectantly to his party. Each nodded slowly in turn.
“The parties have both agreed. As of this moment, this contract is binding.” He tapped his staff again and the circle glowed gold. Pieces of rune swirled around one of Hammer Strike’s legs and one of Drakefeller’s legs. “The tethering counts as your signatures, and will release when negotiations are complete,” Binding explained. “You are safe to discuss whatever you wish without consequence.”
“I was unaware you had also gained the notorious Villain Behind Glasses as a part of your ranks.” Drakenfeller chuckled. “A clever innovation. My compliments.” He nodded to Binding briefly, then turned with a grave expression to face Hammer Strike. “Now we come to the heart of the matter. To be perfectly frank, the king has lost his wits, and his daughter has no concept of how to control the nobility, let alone keep the good will of her people. The various houses smell blood, and they wait anxiously for the moment to claim the crown for themselves. In preparation for this conflict, each of the noble houses are scrabbling for land, resources, and horsepower that they can use to claim the upper hoof in what I propose will become one of the bloodiest civil conflicts of our history. You’ve already seen how one of them acts. I wouldn’t be surprised for you to receive many more such … overtures, to use the diplomatic term. Bullying is more accurate.
“To summarize, we need somepony with a level head to lead sensibly. I don’t claim to be such a one, but in the oncoming event of utter collapse for the kingdom’s social structure and civilization, I wish to preserve my subjects and lands from this lunacy.”
“You’re asking to split off before the conflict starts?” Hammer Strike questioned.
“I’m asking to have an alliance in place in preparation for that event. It will grant you the illusion of being under my banner to deter other nobles from pressing you. My family’s reputation, and my own, should serve as a powerful motivator in that regard.”
“You’d be damning yourself in an instant.” Hammer Strike shook his head.
“I can’t very well secede, like Clover has. The moment I do, it will trigger the war. Do you have any alternative suggestions?”
Hammer Strike sighed as he thought on it. “Honestly, having any business with me results in a target on you, unless you seperate.”
“And are you prepared for an all-out war and what it would bring?”
“While it would be entertaining to me, I’ve got other issues to deal with, and sending others to fight for me doesn’t really match my style.”
“Then for both our sakes, it sounds like we’ll have to put on an act for now, until things come to a proper head.”
Hammer Strike sighed. “Delay things as much as you can, because it’ll be some time before our problems are dealt with.”
“And what is the nature of your problem? Is there no way I might be able to offer some form of support?”
“Unless you have a force able to fight vampires, and potential others, I doubt it.”
“Dragons, we’ve fought. Unicorns, we’ve fought. But the undead are another matter. How long have they been stalking your people?”
“For some time now. I have the feeling they don’t like the sunlight orbs.” He gestured off to the side.
The count gaped. “You can control sunlight?”
“To a point.” Hammer Strike sighed.
The count stared for a time, then regained control of himself. “I suppose that gives me all the more reason to form a proper alliance with you. When the kingdom fails, whoever controls the sun will control all.”
“Perhaps, but an alliance is out of the question right now.” Hammer Strike sighed. “At this current time, it will result in trouble on both ends.”
“Then I suppose it would be better for me to return and speak the truth. You refused my offer. When the time comes, however, I do hope you will be willing to accept the offer properly.” He smiled. “And perhaps you and I can spar. Anyone who can best a Pegasus in combat is surely a worthy opponent.”
“I’d rather not seriously harm you within five meetings.” Hammer Strike chuckled.
“So, you aren’t against it.” Drakenfeller smirked. “I look forward to the day, then. For now, I suppose we should bring this discussion to a close. My troops will be waiting for me, and there’s little use in remaining here if we’re to keep up appearances.”
“Until next time, then.”
“I’m looking forward to it. Would you object to an occasional visit from time to time?”
“Try not to make yourself obvious, and we’ll see about that,” Hammer Strike replied, glancing toward the main gate.
“Then so be it.” He nodded. “This negotiation is finished. Will you ask your servant to end his spell?”
Hammer Strike looked over to Binding and nodded.
The runes faded, though not before some touched each of the Ponies in the circle and absorbed into their magical fields. “It’s done,” Binding said. “You may depart whenever you wish.”
“Thank you. For the sake of your settlement’s peace, I will avoid mentioning having met your friend with the glasses.” He turned and rejoined his escort. “Let’s go. We’ve finished here, and I am certain Hammer Strike has much more yet to do for his people.”
“Well,” Grif chuckled. “Good to know at least a few didn’t have a stick up their flanks.”
“I am just happy Hammer Strike hasn’t lost his sense of helping those in need,” Pensword said. “The past can change one, if one is not careful.”
“Everything can change you, Pensword. And change is inevitable. The question is how you choose to change,” Vital pointed out.
“He’s right,” Twilight said as she peeked her head out from behind a book. “By the way, Time Turner, thanks for letting me see your library. I didn’t know you were such a collector.”
“I just hope this won’t come back to bite him,” Griff noted.
“The alliance or letting Twilight into a library that potentially has infinite volumes?” Vital asked.
“Twilight has learned to be more … discerning, I think, but based on the past, I’d call this as a boon to Hammer Strike,” Pensword said. He looked to The Doctor. “I, too, want to thank you for letting me have use of that study. The time has been very useful for me to prepare for the next military council meeting.” He stretched. “Though I am feeling a little restless. You up for another sparring match, Grif?”
“Sure,” Grif said. “Lets go.”
“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever been able to watch you two have a proper match. Mind if I join you?” Vital Spark asked.
“I don’t recall. I don’t think so, but you can watch.” He looked to Grif. “I fear I’m still a little rusty, though. I’ll work at staying in the match for a minute to start with.”
“That's probably wise.” Grif nodded. “I’d hate to hurt you.”
“How long do you think the first match will last, as an estimate?” Vital asked.
“Assuming Grif doesn’t hold back, I’d give maybe ten seconds at most,” Twilight said.
“So, a bit longer, since Grif just said he won’t hurt me.” Pensword frowned. “And suddenly I’m thinking of Pokemon battles. I wonder if any potion makers could replicate those medicines. That would be awesome on the battlefield.”
“Also expensive,” Vital noted. “It takes a lot of time and effort to get a proper batch made of any, save the simplest of potions. Making it in bulk would cost a fortune.”
“Maybe. Maybe not.” Grif shrugged. “A factory could probably make it at pennies on the dollar.”
“Yeah, but I’m pretty sure we don’t want to go there. You’ve seen what industrialization did to Earth,” Vital noted. “If we could create a magical equivalent, or perhaps a hybrid that runs on magic, rather than fossil fuel, then we might be able to get somewhere.”
Grif shrugged. “It was a thought.”
“I figure we can bring it up with Hammer Strike later, then. He is the end-all say-all, after all.”
“You know, I hate to say it, but if you’re looking for a couple of good engineers, you might want to talk to the Flim Flam brothers. They’re the worst con-artists you could ever meet, but they did manage to create an impressive piece of magical technology with their cider maker,” Twilight noted.
“No thanks,” Grif said outright. “They’re not sustainable.”
“And by that, he means they’re not trustworthy, and possibly may have stolen that technology from another Pony in the first place via a scam,” Vital noted. “Though if we could convince them to tell us where they got it, that might go a long way to us getting the help we need to revolutionize New Unity on the magitech front.”
“I also mean that any business they start will last for only so long before their faulty policies cause it to collapse in on itself. They don’t have the knowhow to make a sustainable business.”
“Fair enough,” Vital agreed. “Guess we’ll just keep moving forward for now with what we’ve got. We can plan for the rest after we get Hammer Strike back.”
Hammer Strike hummed to himself as he sorted through the list he had made for himself. Before him was the store room he made to hold their miscellaneous supplies that didn’t have a spot in any category that he made before.
Currently, he had an assortment of tablets that he needed to move into secure storage to ensure they wouldn’t become “lost.” He pulled out each one and scanned over their contents to determine what they were about before sorting them into new individual boxes.
As he finished clearing up the tablets from their current container, he moved it off to the side, only to hear a light object roll about at the bottom. He frowned as he pulled the box back to himself and glanced within.
At the bottom of the box sat a familiar-looking die, and after a few seconds, he realized it was the one he’d purchased some time ago but never used.
He sighed to himself. “Should have dealt with this sooner. What was I thinking?”
He grabbed the die and went to place it in his coat, only to stop. After a moment, he looked it over again and weighed his current thoughts over. Given their current situation, he needed any advantage he could get against their current threats.
He moved himself into the living room before giving it a little toss onto the ground. It tumbled around the wooden floor before stopping on the number six. At first, nothing happened compared to the previous times. But given what he knew, he held up a hoof to block the die, just in case.
True to his expectations, light burst forth from the die as something took shape. When the light cleared he lowered his hoof to reveal what appeared to be a great hammer.
A heavy wooden haft wrapped with some kind of golden fabric Hammer Strike couldn’t identify, ending in a rounded spherical pommel with tiny spikes orbiting around it in a ring. A metal with the appearance of highly burnished brass or gold formed the middle section of the head where the haft joined with it. A golden crystalline substance formed a large square flat face on one end. The other side had the same crystal curving into a devastating war pick. The golden crystal shone intricate designs that seemed to shift from brass to silver and back again.
Hammer Strike blinked as he reached out for the hammer. He could feel trace bits of solar energy seeping from the weapon. After testing the weight in his hooves, he determined it to be exactly what he liked.
He couldn’t help but grin as he accepted the weapon into his arsenal.
“I’ve done it!” Ainz entered the room of Hammer Strike’s cabin hurriedly. “I found them!”
Hammer Strike turned from his position on the couch. “The elder vampire?”
“Yes! “ ainz nodded. “I was able to get past whatever defences they’ve had going and managed to fry the brain of one of their minions for the information we needed.”
Hammer Strike stood up and moved toward his forge. “Celestia, Luna! Come here. I will tell you what’s going on while I prepare.”
Luna was over a moment later. “Yes?”
“What’s going on? What’s all the excitement about?” Celestia asked as she followed her sister.
“Ainz has located the elder vampire that attacked us before, and no doubt will again if left alone.” Hammer Strike frowned. “I am leaving to deal with it, and I’m unsure of how long it will take me, so I need you both to help run things while I’m gone,” he continued, grabbing hold of armor he had made for the occasion.
“We can manage,” Celestia said. “Will you be taking any forces with you?”
“Potentially, if things go south. Until then, however, it will be just me.”
“How will we know if things go south?” Luna asked.
“Due to the nature of the connection between myself, Clover, Ainz, and Binding, I can communicate with them relatively quickly across vast distances.” Hammer Strike took hold of his silver sword and strapped it to his back.
“And if you’re knocked unconscious before you can?” Celestia asked.
“They can tell,” Hammer Strike stated as he took hold of the greathammer he had received recently. “Ainz should have an emergency protocol in which he, alongside the others, collect me if such events happen.”
“I will be ready,” Ainz acknowledged.
“Alert the others and gather back here. Then we can cover everything and I’ll set off soon after.”
“They’re on their way.”
“Do you want us to keep your absence hidden?” Celestia asked.
“I’m fine with everyone knowing who I’m after.” Hammer Strike’s gaze hardened. “If they know, perhaps it’ll let them have some hope.”
“Or worry.” Celestia sighed. “But if that’s what you think is best, we’ll tell them and ask them to think of you as you go.”
A few seconds later, Clover and Binding both teleported into the cabin in a flash of light and the tinkling of bells. “So, it’s time?” Binding asked.
“It’s time,” Hammer Strike nodded as he pulled out a map of the area. “Where are we looking at, Ainz?”
“A small abandoned settlement roughly forty miles to the northwest.”
Hammer Strike trailed the map for a moment before tapping his hoof. “A Unicorn settlement.” he frowned. “Last I checked, it was abandoned due to the lack of control in that region. Riots and such didn’t help the place. Figures they’d make shop there.”
“Yes, no one would look at it while the war’s still going.” Ainz nodded.
“Then it’s settled. I’ll set off at once.” Hammer Strike looked for any points that he had marked beforehand to shorten his travel time before nodding and rolling up the map. “Until I return, I need all of you to run Unity.”
“Of course,” Clover said. “But shouldn’t someone go with you?”
“Less targets, and less risks. Should something happen here, I want this town as secure as possible.”
“We’ll do our best to ensure it does,” Binding promised. “After all, it’s not like we can go back on your wishes now, is it?” He smiled companionably at the stallion.
“That’s all I needed to hear.” Hammer Strike packed the map away. “I have everything I need.”
“We’ll have everything ready when you get back,” Ainz noted.
Hammer Strike nodded before turning towards Celestia and Luna. “Think you’ve got this?”
Luna seemed confident as she nodded.
“We’ll manage. You just come back safely. And when you do, Luna and I will prepare you a feast like you’ve never had before,” Celestia promised.
“I’ll see to it, then.” Hammer Strike chuckled as he gave both of them a hug. With a confident smile, he turned from the group and exited the house. He’d have to get some distance before he could use his portal system.
The city lay under a blanket of dark scudding clouds that blocked the sun and cast the hill on which it had been built, and its surrounding lands, in a blanket of twilight that wasn’t quite darkness. The familiar scent of death and decay mixed with the coppery tang of blood and the fetid stench of longstanding water. Flies and other insects flew thickly in the air over portions of the walled city, bringing the carrion eaters and their kind to join the feast, or whatever remained of it.
A massive stone wall woven with bands of gold circled the settlement. One large gate functioned as the only visible entry point. Its doors hung open invitingly. The cobbled streets of the city had been constructed in a carefully planned spiral design to circle the buildings, marketplace, and town square around a central castle-like structure. Within these secondary walls, a solitary tower stabbed into the skies. Its walls were a stark black marked with veins of sickly green, purple, and red that curled and twisted around the structure in a horrid imitation of a horn. Whoever had designed this place had been arrogant enough to focus on the appearance of the design, rather than the functionality of it. No wonder it fell so easily. There were no alternate routes of egress. Any citizens that could have fled would be trapped and driven toward the center, where the creatures of the night had doubtless had their way with them.
Wisps of the cloudbank billowed like smoke from the top of the tower, which indicated either the occupant was experimenting with means to block the sun entirely or this was merely a miasma produced as a result of the occupancy of this coven. Regardless, there would be hordes of lesser undead to dispose of on the way. Hammer Strike couldn’t afford to let a single one escape. And if someone really was trying to neutralize the effects of the sun, then it only added to the urgency of the situation.
He took his time to map the city from a vantage point in the surrounding hills. Then, as night drew on, he watched the ghost city come to life. There was no need for the occupants to make use of light. They traveled unmolested through the streets. Some swarmed toward the tower. Others separated into groups and passed out the gates in hunting parties. Others still carried shovels and pickaxes, doubtless to dig out shelters and safehouses in the event they couldn’t reach the safety of the city come sunrise. That implied a level of competency and coordination.
This vampire was definitely an individual that needed to be stopped as soon as possible. However, it would need to be at a time when he could deal the most damage to the coven. Noon would be the optimal hour. The question was how to kill the others without frightening their leader away. If the elder escaped, he or she would simply reconstitute the coven and come for Unity again.
Not for the first time, he reached for his coat’s pocket, then stopped halfway there. This wasn’t his usual coat, and he didn’t have the void to access. Instead, he reached into his saddlebags and retrieved a ball roughly the shape of a boulder with a wick inserted at its top. The rune Bonnie had taught him marked the sphere’s bottom, and the faint jangle of metal reached his ears as he hefted the sphere’s weight. “You’ll do,” he remarked, then peered into his bag, where fourteen more identical shapes waited. “Yes, you’ll do nicely.”
As he had planned, he crept into the city when the sun shone brightly overhead and began his work. He planted the bombs at key locations where the explosions could do the most damage. The nails he’d loaded them with would do the rest. He just had to etch the rune into his molds, and he was in business. As a final addition, he formed small thaumic crystals to ignite the wicks. The timing would be most important.
The walk to the fortress was a leisurely one. The vampires would all be in their dens, either asleep or preparing for the coming night. No guards stood watch. No arrows rained from the heavens as he strode up the hill in that spiral to the waiting gates. These ones were locked; however, they proved no obstacle to the Pony as he burned and broke through. A smile curled his lips as he recalled another incident not unlike this one, when he’d melted through a portcullis and broken down the wooden doors to reach his goal. That seemed such a long time ago now.
The tower inside was a grim structure spattered with the blood of past victims and meals. The courtyard was coated in the flaking substance, and the land itself felt almost hungry for more. The grime on the surface scraped off to reveal a stone tarnished beyond recognition. Much like the rest of the city, this tower would likely not be able to be restored. It would have to be destroyed.
The tower was divided into a multitude of floors, each with their own design and purpose. In one, he discovered a lab littered with remnants and fragments of gears, cogs, nuts, and bolts. Various tools and primitive diagnostic equipment lined the walls and floor both.
The next room was some form of larder. Salted meat sat in storage while vials of blood and various other substances waited to be drunk. Some few bones lingered on the floor or a chopping block. Antlers, hooves, Pony skulls. All stared. All waited. And all had been gnawed clean by things Hammer Strike really didn’t want to consider right now.
The third floor consisted of what equated to a bedchamber. Instead of a mattress, however, a coffin lay on a stone plinth. The windows that had allowed light to filter through were all boarded up, and thick dark curtains had been laid over the walls as an extra precaution against the burning light of the sun. The lid lay open, the casket unoccupied. The elder was still awake, which meant he or she was likely expecting Hammer Strike to arrive soon. However, it also meant he would have the advantage, since the creature would have been awake for longer than its normal cycle demanded. And given its status as an elder, he could use every advantage he could get.
The top of the tower was somewhat more confined than the rest of the building. The roof curved to a point, and rafters supported the structure. A great monstrosity of gears and fire chuffed away as two vent pipes funneled out the windows and into the skies. A series of wooden tables, each laden with various pieces of lab equipment and samples of chemicals, residues, and other substances, lined the walls. A cloaked figure worked steadily at the vials and beakers to mix some form of compound.
“I wondered when you would be coming.” He didn’t even bother to turn as the chemicals and reagents reacted. “Your behavior against past offenders indicated you would have come sooner.” The flask levitated in a black aura and upended itself into the machine. “But I suppose I should give you a certain amount of credit for taking your time, rather than coming immediately. I assume you’ve been seeking the best means to kill me.” He turned and revealed a wicked sneer. His fur was a light purple, his mane a dark black streaked with silver. His eyes were a bloody red, and his fangs were bared with a flagrant openness that bordered on arrogance. “I would have tried fooling you with the whole enthralled innocent trick, but I think we both know you’re too intelligent for that ploy.”
Hammer strike responded by grabbing his new greathammer. He struck it multiple times against the floor, which caused small bursts of sunlight to flash with every impact. The vampire hissed, but didn’t back down. The two rushed one another. Hammer Strike brought his full strength behind his weapon with the aim of ending things quickly, only for his momentum to cease as the vampire caught the weapon’s surface with his bare hoof. Despite everything the Earth Pony put behind the blow, the vampire pushed back.
Flesh seared and smoked against the hammer’s surface, but healed faster than it could burn. The vampire snarled and surged his strength, sending Hammer Strike and the hammer staggering back. Were it not for the thickness of the ursa’s hide, the three rapid magic slashes the vampire sent his way would have caused notable damage. Even so, Hammer Strike could actually feel the thaumic field having to actively heal bruising beneath the coat.
“A weapon capable of generating solar energy. Interesting. Such a pity it doesn’t work!”
Still silent, Hammer Strike dropped the hammer and unsheathed his sword. The silver shone in the pale light as he adapted his stance accordingly. He slashed outward in a wide arc. In his arrogance, the vampire realized the danger too late and only barely backed out of range before the blade sliced through his shoulder. This time, the silver and divine energy left a mark, and the vampire hissed his vehemence. But even as he glared at Hammer Strike, the mark vanished visibly before Hammer strike’s eyes.
The vampire let out a snarl. The playful tone had been replaced by one far more controlled and deliberate when he resumed his assault. “Where did you get that blade?”
Immediately, Hammer Strike found himself on the defensive as he backed away, deflecting several magic strikes and barely dodging more. The vampire’s movement and reaction speed was far greater than anything the lord had fought. Even Grif wasn’t quite this fast without injuring himself. The Unicorn changed tactics, firing a concussive blast with his horn. As Hammer Strike moved to block it, the vampire followed with a buck to the midsection, instantly knocking the Earth Pony over.
“Of course, if you won’t tell me yourself, I have other ways.” The vampire slurped hungrily as he straddled his opponent in the blink of an eye. The sword now lay uselessly at Hammer Strike’s side, pinned by the inequine strength of the elder.
Before Hammer Strike could recover, the vampire leaned in and sunk his fangs into the Pony’s neck, only to release him and back away hissing in pain. Smoke billowed from his mouth. The flesh surrounding the gums, and even the fangs themselves, had begun to degrade. Fresh burns steamed as the flesh slowly began to knit together and regenerate.
“What is this trickery, phoenix ash?” He growled. “Trying to assassinate me with your own blood? You ignorant insignificant little speck!” The sword skittered across the floor, and the vampire kicked Hammer Strike several times in the ribs. Each blow was greeted with a loud crack. He brought a hoof down on the Pony’s front left leg, and it, too, snapped audibly. Lastly, the elder grabbed Hammer Strike in his magic, pulled him back, and hurled him against the far wall. Hammer Strike felt something break against his back. He saw the tower growing in his vision as pain flared in his chest and leg. He registered striking something solid, and then everything went black.
Hammer Strike groaned as he came to beneath a starry sky. The air was clear of clouds, and rubble surrounded him as a cleansing wind blew across the surface of the tower and whistled in his ears. Crumpled pieces of metal and shards of shrapnel mingled with the shards of glass that remained. Wooden splinters and fragments of legs and tabletops laid still, almost as still as he felt.
And then the pain returned, followed shortly by a cloaked figure that, were it not for its much larger size, would have been a dead ringer for Death.
“You know, most people wouldn’t have survived that,” Ainz pointed out as he folded his arms and waited.
Hammer Strike simply glanced over to Ainz before sighing and attempting to pick himself up.
“I wouldn’t do that yet. Your leg’s still not fully repaired,” Ainz commented. “It was broken in several places. Some of the bones looked like they’d been ground to dust.”
Hammer Strike growled before thaumic fire surrounded his being. Turning over, he planted his hooves firmly on the ground and stood up. It was painful, but he could manage it. “Is the elder vampire still in the city?”
“No. Unfortunately, he took the opportunity to leave,” Ainz said. “However, it seems your plans for the other vampires went off relatively perfectly.”
“Keep track of him,” Hammer Strike ordered. “I … wasn’t strong enough. Even with the current list of things backing me, I just wasn’t good enough.”
“He is an elder vampire. They don’t get to that level easily,” Ainz admitted. “Still, you must have given quite the impression. Normally, he’d have simply killed you and went on like nothing happened.”
“Well, he certainly tried.” Hammer Strike rubbed at his neck where the bite point had searched shut. “My safety measure caught him off guard, but it didn’t harm him severely.”
“Seems you need to hurt him more severely faster.” Ainz nodded. “I’ll have to look through my books and see if there's anything we can use to get around it.”
“I’ll need to start training.” Hammer Strike frowned. “But first,” his eyes hardened. “I won’t let them use this place again.”
“Should we check it for anything useful before burning it to ash?” Ainz asked.
Hammer Strike sighed. “Summon forth help and gather everything of value as quickly as you can. Afterwards, burn everything to the ground. Leave nothing.”
Ainz nodded in acknowledgement as he turned towards the settlement. Hammer Strike could feel the energy build up as the Minotaur stood. Dark energy as cold as death itself gathered around Ainz, bleeding into the land around him, withering plant life as it spread. In a single fluid movement, the lich lifted his staff and brought the butt down onto the ground in three long slow tolls like a church bell.
“Raise lesser undead!”
The ground began to split as skeletal and rotting limbs began to crawl up from the depths. The remains of Ponies of all kinds, but mostly Unicorns, began to rise. Most were simply skeletal remains animated in some mockery of life. A few were zombies, however. Bits and pieces of maggot-ridden flesh still clung to their bones.
“Search the grounds. Kill any vampires you may yet find. Collect anything of value or interest and bring it here. Should you find any of the living, do not harm them. Bring them here alive and as well as you can. Burn everything else,” he commanded in a crisp clear tone.
Hammer Strike watched the army of the undead split off into smaller squads on their own accord and begin to shamble away to heed their master's order. Over the next six hours, gold, silver, gemstones, tomes, magical items, unnamed potions, weapons, armor, aged tools of varying trades, and several other things Hammer Strike couldn’t categorize were piled in front of him. Soon a second group of undead were assigned to construct wagons and load them. Plumes of smoke erupted constantly as buildings were set ablaze.
It was at the end of this period that a group of undead dragged what at first glance appeared to be a Changeling corpse before him.
It’s chitin, from what Hammer Strike could make behind the cracks and glowing green blood, was golden in colour. Its legs were longer than a drone’s, though Hammer Strike would guess not quite to Chrysalis’s level. He had a notable mane of straight air slicked back and long. His large eyes, while shut, seemed slightly sunken in and dark. From his forehead, two antlers poked out. The top was longer and curved forward over the lower one. The lower one was shorter and formed at the end, so the curve of the upper antler grew between the fork.
The blood still felt warm to the Pony as he examined the body, and there was a slight vibration below the chitin. This Changeling was still alive.
“Are you able to heal this one?” Hammer Strike questioned Ainz.
“Healing isn’t necessarily my strong suit. I can keep him from dying, guard against infection in his wounds. But you’ll need Binding or Clover if you want healing.”
Hammer Strike nodded. “Figured I’d ask. I’ll see to contacting Binding to get him here. Keep it from perishing.”
“Of course.”
“That was reckless,” Vital said as he pulled his gaze away from the monitor. “You going to be all right, Grif?”
“I’m fine,” Grif said through gritted teeth.
“If that’s fine, I hate to think what you look like when you’re livid,” Rarity said. “Are you sure you wouldn't like one of Derpy’s muffins? I swear they help. I don’t know how that’s possible, but they do.” She levitated one of the steaming quickbreads in front of the Gryphon.
Pensword’s face had paled immensely. “That’s a lich,” he whispered. “Hammer Strike has a lich working for him.” He shuddered. “And he’s fighting elder vampires…. That really needs to be worked into—” He snapped his head to Grif mid-sentence. “Grif, we need your hunters taught ASAP. I feel that they should be counted as Spec Ops or the like in the military, just so they aren’t bothered, if you have to work around the normal channels. I want to be ready for those nightmares.”
“These are adventurers, Pensword. They’ll hunt as they see fit in the end. We just provide them the resources.”
“And I plan on trying to help there. These monsters are just as much a threat to Equestria as any invading army. Trust me when I say that the Special Forces usually work in their own frameworks… They could be their own, but if, say, we have a vampire infestation or the like, it’d be much faster if we can call them up like a militia to go take care of the problem.”
“Based on what Grif has mentioned, they’re basically going to be mercenaries. Granted, mercenaries can be special ops. They don’t have to be mutually exclusive. That being said, in the present, I’m not sure how many of those darker creatures will be left. Most of the havens for dark magic have pretty much vanished in our time,” Vital said.
“It only takes one.” Pensword retorted, “And we still have Sombra out there. Grif felt him. We have to be ready, just in case. Otherwise, we’ll be blindsided. Never plan for the previous war, but always plan for the future one.” He narrowed his gaze. “Always have a plan. Remember, the United States had a plan to invade Canada right before World War One.”
“I actually didn’t know that, but duly noted,” Vital said. “I assume you plan to bring this up at your next war council meeting as well?”
“Yes, if it’s okay with Grif.”
“I suppose, but the government’s not going to be running the guild,” Grif noted.
“In other words, if the government has a job, it’ll have to post or make a request of the guildmaster, right?” Vital asked.
“Grif, the government would have to give some regulations to follow. With you and Luna talking, I’m sure something can be agreed upon. Just be ready, in case we have to call an emergency situation, okay?” Pensword asked.
“And then government regulations allow a small village to be wiped overnight because of priority,” Grif said. “Luna’s already agreed with this. The government will operate as a client, but it will have no part in the operation itself.”
Pensword raised a brow. “Very well, but I didn’t know about you already getting it cleared by Luna. I’m just trying to cover all my bases for protecting Equestria.”
“Well, now that that’s settled, anybody up for a dip in the pool?” Vital asked.
“I would like to try the pool. After some more training,” Pensword said. “After watching that, I need to work off this nervous energy.”
Hammer Strike stared out across Unity. He wasn’t happy with the events that had transpired involving the elder vampire, but he had no ability to change that at this point in time. All he could do was prepare for his next encounter with it.
“Father?” Luna embraced him as she approached. “Are you well?”
Hammer Strike blinked as he came out of his thoughts. “Sorry, yeah. I’m mostly fine.”
“Losing is hard, huh?” she asked.
“Indeed, it is. But it was bound to happen.”
“Finding your ceiling just gives you motivation to climb higher,” Luna offered.
“Exactly.” Hammer Strike turned back toward the town. “And I’ll make sure it doesn’t come back from it.”
A flash of light heralded the arrival of Celestia. “Anderson wants to see you, Father. Since I was coming back from the marketplace, he asked me to deliver the request.”
Hammer Strike nodded. “He’s at the completed church?”
“Yes. I believe his words were for you to, and I quote, ‘bring his ass down here’ as soon as possible. I … think he may have a request.”
“All right, I’ll head over now, then.” Hammer Strike sighed.
Thanks to Hammer Strike’s interactions with Bonnie, the village had been reinforced with the sacred symbol to strengthen wards and prepare various weapons to defend the citizenry. A small marketplace had emerged at the heart of the town. And since most of the civilians passed through there on a regular basis, it was the most logical location for Anderson to build his church. Since the town itself was still relatively small, compared to the rest of the kingdom’s land owners, the Gryphon had chosen to go with a more conservative structure built of wood and surrounded by a small stone wall he had crafted himself. The rune Bonnie had provided had been carefully etched at key points along the wall and within the building’s overall structure. The walls of the church itself had been painted white, while a single steeple rose up to cast the shadow of Faust’s inkwell above the rune. The only piece of finery that the Gryphon had allowed to differentiate the building was a series of intricate stained glass windows, each portraying the noble goddess and various scenes from scripture and sermons about the deity’s life and actions.
The inside was simple enough, a set of wooden pews stretched from front to back while a simple altar that doubled as a podium laid to the side and waited. There were no books of scripture, but a group of small candles had been set to the side to light. Heinkel was busy setting up the interior for the next gathering. While few attended the services about Faust, the community had begun to welcome the Gryphon into their homes as someone who had a reputation for selfless service and a gentle demeanor.
That gentle demeanor appeared to be warring with something else when Hammer Strike finally arrived.
“You called, Anderson?”
“What’s this I hear about you takin’ on an elder vampire all on your lonesome?” he demanded. “I thought stupid and berserk were supposed to be my job when it came to unholy abominations.”
“It was just that, and it resulted with broken ribs, hooves, and severe injuries.” Hammer Strike sighed. “On myself. Said elder vampire was beyond estimation.”
“Flames of Tartarus, Hammer Strike! You went and picked a fight with a bloody elder? It’s a miracle you’re even standing here right now!”
“Yeah, I got that already.” He sighed again.
“And secondly, why didn’t you take me along, you crazy gnostic bastard?”
“Because Unity needed you here.”
“Tha’s what Heinkel’s here for. Why else d’ya think I’d bring her along? She’s barely been initiated into the order. And as for your point on Unity needin’ me, well, they need you more, don’t they? Or have you forgotten about the fact that you’re the leader of this here settlement?”
“The difference between us is the fact that, while I may not be a Gryphon, I’m quite hard to kill.”
“Oh, is that what’s got your armor in a twist?” He scoffed. “Heinkel!”
“Yes, Father Anderson?”
“Do the thing.”
“But—”
“Now, Heinkel.”
Heinkel sighed. “Yes, Sir.” She pulled out a crossbow from under her robes and fired a bolt directly into Anderson’s head. “I really hope he doesn’t stain the floor this time. It’s always so difficult getting blood stains out of things, and he always expects me to clean up after his mess.”
A few seconds later, Anderson’s hand lunged at the shaft, yanked it out of his skull, and the wound closed over in short order, followed by the restoration of the feathers he’d lost as a result of the shot. “Y’see, Hammer Strike, I’m not a liability in this war. I’m an asset. And you’d best start letting me do my job seekin’ out these filthy heathens, so I can put their damned souls to rest.” An unsettling grin spread across his face, and he chuckled.
Hammer Strike sighed. “All right, all right. Next time I go after them, I’ll send an invite. If I remember.”
“You’d better. It’s been too long since I went on a good hunt.” A set of long silver blades suddenly emerged between his talons. “Time to sift the wheat from the chaff.” Then he broke into a fit of maniacal laughter.
Hammer Strike sighed before muttering to himself, “You choose an interesting individual to bless, Sleipnir….”
The night sky was quiet and peaceful. Crickets chirped in the summer heat, and children and adults had long since retired. The moon had faded to a mere sliver in its waning, and the humid air hung low to pull at those who struggled to sleep and fill their lungs with what felt more like vapor than air. It was a peaceful night, a gentle night. In short, it was the perfect night for a raid.
The rough stones that had been laid along the town’s streets grated and wobbled under pressure as the earth around them gradually receded and dropped. Strong hooves snatched each stone and gently lowered them, rather than risk the possibility of breaking the silence and losing the element of surprise. Blood-red eyes rose from the artificial sinkhole and peered cautiously around. The Pony was swathed in black to better blend into the shadows. When it perceived no threat, it motioned below, then pulled itself out.
Nothing happened for the first five or six feet as the vampire made its way forward. It seemed that they’d managed to get in unnoticed.
Or so he had thought.
A giant webbed hand reached out and grasped the vampire, who let out a strangled horrified cry. The skin was shiny black and slimy. And as the creature revealed itself, the vampire’s night vision took it in. All twelve feet of shiny black skin, long gangly arms and legs that belittled it’s strength, a bulky body, and seemingly no neck connecting its head to the rest of it. It’s flat face had large lidless eyes on the sides and a mouth full of sharp teeth. Running from the back of its neck down its spine to the end of its body was a razor-sharp fin.
The vampire had little time to realize the horror it looked upon as the deep one casually lurched forward and bit the head off, chewing thoughtfully.
Ainz stood nearby watching, his staff floating beside him as the beast he’d summoned worked on it’s meal. Being of eldritch nature, the deep one naturally ignored all the advantages vampires normally had, and Cthulhu was not the only name that could bring them running.
Hurricane nodded as he gazed on the sight. “So, this is the kind of magic a Pony can do if they don’t hold back.” He whistled, then casually sliced a vampire’s head off. It combusted immediately and fell back into the hole, where many voices cried their dismay.
At his next command, the leftover oatmeal that had been intended to serve as the following day’s breakfast, but had been quickly sanctified by Anderson at the last minute, was dumped into the hole. Several cries of agony were heard as the sloppy mushy mess slowly filled the space.
“I can’t believe that actually worked,” Hurricane said. “And better yet, it’ll stick to them until they either strip their own flesh or take a dip in a lake!”
“Which should have the same result.” Ainz chuckled.
The last of the township soon fled into the churchyard and sought sanctuary within the walls of the structure itself. Anderson’s expression was grave as he ushered the last of his parishioners through the doors. “Heinkel, I’m going to close this door now. And whatever you do, I don’t want you to open it until the sun comes up or one of us opens the door ourselves. And if one of us does, I want you to shoot them, got it?”
“But—”
“Shoot. Them. The odds of actually killing one of us by accident are virtually impossible, and if it’s an illusion, then that’s one less bloodsucking cunt to worry about. Comfort the children. Console the parents. Keep everyone calm.”
“What about you?”
Anderson’s glasses gleamed as he turned, and a manic grin passed over his face while his coat billowed behind him. “I’m off to do the Lady’s work.” He laughed as he approached the walls. “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I shall fear no evil.” The dim light of the moon glinted as metal rasped against the Gryphon’s talons, and a series of silver blades clutched in his hands. “Never shall innocent blood be shed, yet the blood of the wicked shall flow like a river. Now who’s ready for a boat ride!”
Meanwhile, Hammer Strike was overviewing everyone to ensure things were taken care of. While he normally would have joined in, he was pleasantly surprised to find everyone holding out against their attackers.
While he was happy with that part, it left him feeling somewhat strange. He wanted to take part in things, but with everyone working at their efficiency, he would most likely get in the way of their spells.
However, despite their attention to detail, he was able to note something heading over to the church. He knew by this point how hard it was to kill Anderson, but not his fighting prowess. He shifted the silver blade on his back and set off to meet the threat.
The monster choked and twitched as Anderson slammed the final blows home, impaling the vampire with the sixty-ninth blade while its eyes stared imploringly at the Gryphon. “Offer your pleases in Tartarus. Maybe they’ll actually give a damn.” He leaned in and whispered, “But I doubt it.” Then he stepped back and watched as the vampire burst into flame. “Gods, that was good!” he crowed.
“Well, you seemed to have this well in hand.” Hammer Strike sighed.
“You want me to save you one next time?”
“Probably best you don’t.” Hammer Strike shrugged.
Anderson shrugged in turn. “Probably wouldn't have done it, anyway.”
“After that show, I’d believe it.” He frowned. “Status report?”
“All the townsfolk are accounted for, except for the squad you had on guard tonight. Heinkel’s keepin’ watch inside. By the way, if you go in there, make sure you’re ready to take a crossbow bolt to the face. I told her to shoot on sight.”
“Fair enough.” Hammer Strike nodded. “If that’s everything covered, I guess I’ll do a perimeter sweep and ensure everything is clear.”
Anderson nodded. “I’ll be by the lake, if you need me. The vampires should be going off like fireworks.” He cackled wickedly. “I love to watch my work.”
“It’s coming along nicely, Celestia,” Hammer Strike gave a small smile as he looked over the current painting that she was working on. She was starting simple, just a still life version of their living room with the fireplace as the center.
“It’s difficult keeping the strokes steady,” the mare criticized. “I’ll need to practice a little more.”
“I’m positive you’ll get it down. It just takes time.”
“Where do you learn all these things? It feels like every time we ask you a question, you have an answer.”
“Honestly, it’s a mix of the implants and just previous knowledge. I used to study quite a bit of the world around me to make sure I knew how to manage it.”
“As in manipulate? Or do you mean something else?”
“Technically, yes.” Hammer Strike rubbed the back of his head. “If it wasn’t obvious, as it turns out, I’m very paranoid.”
Celestia smiled gently. “I always thought it was just being protective of me and Luna.”
“It is.” Hammer Strike chuckled. “In some ways, I might be overprotective sometimes.”
“I’d say you’re just right, after what happened the other night.”
“Yeah…” He sighed. “I need to start training again, need to be prepared for the next encounter with the elder vampire.”
“You’re not going to try taking him on alone again, are you?” Celestia frowned. “Ainz told us what happened.”
“The problem is that others don’t share my level of ‘immunity’ from him.” He frowned. “Perhaps Ainz, but the others … not so much.”
“Have you considered developing an armor that could help?”
“It would restrict movement too much to make something that would work.” Hammer Strike shook his head. “That, and it would potentially be too heavy for most.”
“Is there some sort of trap you can design for them?”
“To a point.” Hammer Strike frowned as he shifted his attention. “We’ll talk more about this later.”
“Then what would you like to talk about?”
“The alert that’s appeared in my augments about a local signal appearing,” Hammer Strike replied. “Three, to be precise.” He turned from Celestia toward the exit. “I’ll investigate.”
He found the gate closed and several confused guards looking down from it. As he got closer, he could hear familiar voices speaking from the other side.
“Hey! You asked me to track him down, and I'm telling you Hammer Strike’s on the other side of that gate!” Cayde's voice shot off with just a hint of annoyance. “When we separated, he had the girls.”
“The girls who are our rightful masters now,” a deep voice countered. “Or have you forgotten the dying wish of our creator?”
“Open the gates!” Hammer Strike called out as he stood at the entrance.
The gates opened, revealing three cloaked figures. All wore masks to cover their entire faces. One, however, was familiar.
“And there he is now,” Cayde said, gesturing with a hoof. “What’d I tell you?” He crossed the threshold without ceremony and approached Hammer Strike. “Yo, sorry it took so long. Took a bit to convince them.” He leaned in conspiratorially. “And Zavala got himself into a bit of trouble. Not really made for the outside world.”
“So I heard.” Hammer Strike looked over the other two.
Both wore a set of cloaks to hide their appearance, though the glint of a heavy set of armor bulked out against the cloth of one as he approached. “Hammer Strike. I must admit I am surprised to see you alive and well. But I commend you for doing what we could not in our absence.” He bowed his head. “Thank you for protecting the foals.”
“I couldn’t leave them on their own.” Hammer Strike shook his head. “Where exactly did you two end up?”
“I was adrift for some time,” Ikora started. “Eventually, I hit the mainland. I met a curious selection of Zebras who helped me get back on my hooves.”
“And I met a kindly group of Minotaurs who brought me to their females. Their smithwork is not the same quality as the equipment we once wielded, but it was sufficient for my needs, and allowed me to function enough to begin the journey to find this place,” Zavala said.
“So, you had to use force to get them to back off before they’d even talk to you,” Hammer Strike replied simply to Zavala.
“When I startled one of their warriors, yes, that was the initial requirement. I had only just awoken to find one of them poking me. My armor was partially stripped. I believe you can imagine their reaction.”
“I’ve run into them, yeah.” Hammer Strike sighed. “I know how each of you have been programmed, so I will say this once. Any Gryphon in these walls as a civilian or guard, are not to be harmed. That is a direct order.”
“Got it.” Cayde offered a mock salute.
“Gryphons living in peace with the foals? What could have happened to lead to such a … surprising development?” Zavala asked.
“The fact that I’m running this settlement and have bound each and every civilian in these walls,” Hammer Strike replied bluntly. “Willingly.”
“We’re going to have to hear that story. Maybe over a drink? Or ramen? This place has ramen, right?”
“We don’t, but I know how to make it.” Hammer Strike sighed. “Come along. We’ll discuss things at my home.”
“I’m there.”
“How do you know where it is, if you have never been here before?” Zavala asked.
“It’s a metaphor,” Cayde said, exasperated.
“I see.” Zavala’s mask fixed its unerring gaze on Cayde for several seconds of uncomfortable silence before he turned away and looked at Hammer Strike. “So, shall we go?”
Hammer Strike simply turned and led the trio back to his house. He couldn’t help but sigh internally as he thought of how he was going to deal with all three of them. When they all arrived, Celestia appeared to have just finished her painting.
“I’m back, with company.”
Celestia turned and beamed, then rushed to hug the foremost of the trio. “Cayde! Thank goodness. I was worried we’d never see you again.”
“Of course I'm back.” He laughed. “You think anything out there can handle me?”
“I’m sure Zavala can’t,” she teased.
“You have no idea….” Zavala replied.
“Where have you all been?”
“That is a very long story. Perhaps, if we were all to retire someplace for a proper narrative?” Zavala suggested.
“Here is fine,” Celestia said.
“But this place is so … insecure. Are you certain we won’t be overheard?”
“Positive,” Celestia promised. “I’ll have to introduce you to Clover, Binding, and Ainz sometime. Then you’ll understand.”
“While you three manage that, I need to borrow Cayde for a bit,” Hammer Strike commented.
Cayde, for once, said nothing as he followed Hammer Strike.
Hammer Strike brought Cayde down into his workshop before pointing towards a nearby table. “Take a seat over there.”
Cayde did as instructed. “What's with all the cloak and dagger?”
“Well, it doesn’t help I’m getting readings that you’re not in the best of shapes,” Hammer Strike commented as he started pulling out a few containers of tools.
“I’ve taken a few scrapes over the years,” Cayde admitted. From under his cloak, something floated into the air. It was a small device that had a shell composed of odd angles sticking out every which way. A white orb dominated its center with what looked like a blue eye constantly darting around.
“Oh, what a quaint little place,” a voice said cheerily. “Your statement is correct.” The bot turned to Hammer Strike. “The Cayde Six has received heavy damage and requires repair.”
“I … don’t recall you having an additional bot with you, Cayde.” Hammer Strike hummed as he started hunting down materials.
“This is Failsafe,” Cayde noted. “Sort of a black box drone they stored at the crystal empire. I went to check on it’s status and she decided to follow me.”
“You’ve certainly got around if you went to the empire.” Hammer Strike raised a brow as he moved his assorted tools and materials over to Cayde. “Remove the cloak, so I can get to work scanning you.”
Cayde did so begrudgingly.
Hammer Strike looked over the damage before sighing. “We need to figure out some sort of auto repair for you, if this is going to be common.”
“I’m not exactly built like Zavala. Built better than Ikora, though. Amazed she’s in such good shape.” Cayde's voice took on an interesting tone at this point.
“It’s probably because she’s careful, compared to you.”
“Nah; she’s just that good.”
“That, too.” Hammer Strike chuckled as he started removing some of Cayde’s external plates. “I don’t have some spare parts, so I’ll have to take measurements and make them quickly.”
“I’m surprised. Place doesn’t look like it has the facilities,” Cayde noted.
“That’s the point. They’re farther down.”
“You’ve been busy.” Cayde cringed in pain. “So, what else is up? You didn’t look like you called me over here just because you were worried. What's the problem?”
“I’m sensing a lot of energy coming off you that isn’t standard.” Hammer Strike sighed. “Which means one of two things. Either I need to take some readings and scans or you’re carrying something I’m familiar with.”
“Huh. The only thing I got is some dice,” Cayde said as he pulled out a small hide bag. “Bought them cheap in the empire. Haven’t even used them yet.”
Hammer Strike scanned over the bag for a brief seconds before chuckling. “Yeah, you found one of those, all right.” He frowned afterwards. “I don’t like how common they are.”
“Tell you what.” Cayde removed his pistol and placed it before Hammer Strike. It had clearly seen better days. “You clean Ace here up for me and you can keep whatever it is you’re seeing.”
Hammer Strike glanced to Cayde before looking back at the pistol and sighing. “All right, but that’ll come after your repairs.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Cayde grumbled.
The autumnal winds blew coldly overhead as dull gray clouds blanketed the skies. The leaves hissed menacingly as they skirted the ground. Many a foal took shelter within their homes while the guard patrolled the relatively quiet streets. Hurricane peered suspiciously at the sky. “I don’t like it,” he said to the leader of the Gryphon forces. “I don’t like it one bit.” His wings fluffed and his feathers rose like hackles. “This doesn’t feel natural.”
“Of course it’s not.” The Gryphon nodded. “Pegasai must be moving the weather in for cover or to bog us down.”
“Possibly both. At least they haven’t authorized a thunderstorm. They probably want to probe our forces first, see just what kind of defenses we have. I suggest we keep our reserves on standby, until it’s absolutely necessary. If I know those leaders up there, and regrettably, I do, they’ll think to defeat us with either numbers or aerial combat. That being said, if they know I’m here, then they’ll know I would have told Hammer Strike about our strategies, which means we shouldn’t count out the possibility of new tactics.”
“You Pegasi really think highly of yourselves, don’t you?” the Gryphon chuckled as he examined the sky.
“Pride is one of our greatest traits, but it is also one of our most crippling weaknesses,” Hurricane acknowledged.
The Gryphon called for one of his subordinates. When the warrior arrived, his commander pointed to the far northern end. “Pegasi have us everywhere except there. See those high floating clouds? Take a squad with their bows and as many arrows as you need. Move it here slowly. Make it look like a natural drift. When you're floating above their position, pick out their leaders and be ready to strike if anything happens.” The Gryphon looked to Hurricane. “Your people rarely look up.”
“They rarely have to fight other flyers.” Hurricane shrugged. “It’s a failing, I’ll admit, but one I think I’ll be glad to exploit this time around.”
“I also don’t think they’re quite prepared for Hammer Strike’s weapons. Bows are easier to sway. These crossbows seem a much straighter shot in any direction.”
“Though shorter range as a result.”
“Yes, but with our bows in the sky, and these on the ground, those Pegasi will have limited options.”
“True, especially given the fact these are capable of piercing plate armor.” He sighed. “I just hope we won’t have to kill too many of them. I may have left my home, but they're still my people. Many of them are just good soldiers following a fool’s orders.”
“That is the nature of the war your people worship so much,” the Gryphon said. “A soldier's action isn’t to fight, but to die. A commander’s duty is to spend his soldiers in the best way to buy victory cheaply. I fear the cost will be too great for their tastes.”
“Given how stubborn they are, I fear you are correct.” Hurricane sighed and cocked his own crossbow. “Let’s get this over with.”
Hammer Strike sighed as he approached the two. “Today’s going to be fun, isn’t it?
“You can expect the demands at any moment. If they have any honor, they’ll send a direct delegation. If they’re already treating us as hostile, however….”
An arrow shaft embedded itself into the ground nearby. A scroll was tied to the side.
“That will happen,” he finished.
Hammer Strike looked at the angle of the arrow before collecting the scroll and unfurling it.
To the denizens of this land:
By the authority of the Pegasus Council, you are hereby ordered to surrender your crops and swear fealty to our nation. Failure to comply will be taken as a declaration of war. You have forty-eight hours in which to respond.
Lieutenant General Glory Blaze
Hammer Strike sighed as the ends of the scroll began to burn away into ash. Glancing to the two at his side, his eyes hardened. “Prepare your weapons for my mark. Let’s show them what it means to go to war with Unity.”
The sound of tightening bow strings and cranking crossbows could be heard.
He scanned over every inch of the clouds above him with his thaumaturgy. It was a simple matter to pinpoint the locations where the Pegasi had holed up through the haze. Once he’d segmented out the portion of clouds to disperse in his mind, he gave his directions in a terse controlled voice. “Northwest,” he commented. “Ready. Aim.”
He lifted his hoof across his chest as thaumic fire seeped from him. Then he threw his foreleg out in front of him, and the fire flared. Whole chunks of clouds dissipated almost instantly, revealing the stunned party that hid there. “Open fire!”
The air rang with the mechanical thunk and twang of bolts launching into the air. Those Pegasi that managed to dodge the barrage from below were quickly sniped from above, forcing many to tumble toward the ground with little to cushion their landing. Those that survived the fall soon found themselves raked with arrows from the walls surrounding the town.
Those who managed to dive into the protection of cloud banks didn’t find shelter for long. The twang of extremely taunt bowstrings could be heard as arrows flew swift and true from one of the surviving cloud banks, large brightly-tufted arrows that punctured the pegasi’s armor and left more than a few dying pinned to the earth.
With their waiting attack formation thrown into disarray, there was little chance of the raiding party finding success or even hoping for a proper defense. What had started out as a stealth mission had turned into a systematic slaughter.
In no time at all, more than half their number had been cut down. Someone from the back shouted something about Gryphons, and the group began to retreat. They lost another quarter of their forces as they ran. The ‘battle’ had lasted five minutes.
“A decisive victory.” The Gryphon laughed as he glided back to Hammer Strike’s side.
“Though one that will require careful preparation for a rebuttal. The presence of Gryphons and the trained forces we utilized took them by surprise, but if they’re desperate enough, they will attack again with greater force and more dangerous weather patterns,” Hurricane warned.
“Then we’ll meet them once again.” Hammer Strike squinted in the direction of the retreating forces. “Keep patrols up. We’ll see how things go.”
“If there’s a means to create an early alert system, I suggest we utilize it,” Hurricane said. “Is it possible for our magical friends to devise such a thing?
“I’ll check in with them, see what they can come up with.”
“We should send out scouts to check for any survivors to extract information as well. I’ll lead the party myself.”
Hammer Strike nodded. “You’re clear for whatever you think is needed,” he replied as he turned to depart. “I’ll be at my home, should anything come up.”
Yharon sighed contentedly as he polished off a bowl of soup with a small garnish of rubies. His feathers rustled as he savored the flavor. Then he smiled at the tall Earth Pony that sat across from him on the table. “That was delicious, Father. Thank you for the meal.”
“Glad you enjoyed it.” Hammer Strike offered a smile. “How go your studies with Clover and Celestia?”
“Well, I like Celestia more because she’s gentle. Aunt Clover is … more hands-on. I learn, but she also … kind of scares me?”
“Yeah, that sounds about right.” He chuckled. “She’s just very blunt in how she talks to others, and acts.”
“She also enjoys experimenting with what I can do. But I suppose I can’t resent her for that, after what you told me.” He frowned. “It kind of makes me wonder what sort of dragon I’m going to be. Will I be strong? Will I be fierce? Will I be kind? You know, things like that.”
“I wish I could tell you more.” Hammer Strike frowned. “But in the end, it’ll be up to you on who you will be. Like any parent, I’ll simply be there to help guide you along.”
Yharon dragged a claw idly over the table. “Did you ever feel like this when you were growing up?”
“Technically, but everyone does to a degree. Admittedly, probably not as much as you currently, but we’ve all experienced that question.”
“What was it like for you? Growing up, I mean.”
“Well…” Hammer Strike thought things over in how he would explain himself. “It was in a more populated area, more so than here. My family worked all types of fields from smithing to carpentry, so I was always surrounded by something being made.”
“Is that where you learned how to smith, too, then?”
“Yes and no. My uncle was a smith who taught me some of what he knew. Beyond that, I actually became a carpenter first.”
“Really? I never thought you would have, with how passionate you are about smithing.”
“Who do you think made the house?”
“... Good point,” Yharon admitted. “So, does that mean I can focus on more than just magic, if I want to?”
“Of course.” Hammer Strike nodded. “The reason you’re being taught is so you have control of it, primarily.”
“So, once I get better control, do you think it’d be possible for me to maybe learn a little about how to fight?”
“Of course,” Hammer Strike replied with a smile.
Yharon smiled. “Just promise me one thing?”
“And that would be?”
“Don’t pair me with Luna. Big sis is kind of scary.” He laughed awkwardly and scratched the back of his head.
Hammer Strike chuckled. “Can’t make any promises,”
“Well, can’t say I didn’t try.”
Hammer Strike glanced over the library Clover had built. Over the time she’d been in Unity, she had amassed a collection of books in all kinds of magic. “I don’t remember you having this many shelves full the last time I visited,” he commented aloud.
“I’ve been duplicating them,” she admitted. “Didn’t want to bother the carpenter all the time.”
“I meant the collection of books,” Hammer Strike noted. “Seems you’ve been collecting quite a stock.”
“I check every time a trader comes to town. I need to keep pushing my research.”
“How have things been going in that regard, anyway?”
“Good, although I think my mentor wouldn’t like what I’ve been looking into.”
“Oh, now?” Hammer Strike raised a brow.
“I’ve been looking into contracted spirits, summons if you will, seeing if I could contact some of the elemental planes, make deals. He showed me how to do it once before when I was his student, but I haven’t actually tried to forge any contracts myself, yet.
He hummed in thought. “It would certainly prove useful to you, and you have no worries of the sway.”
“Hammer Strike, if I may ask, what do you know about the entity known as ‘The Doctor’?”
“Have you encountered an entity identifying themselves as ‘The Doctor’?”
“Myself, no. My mentor, however, has encountered him several times.”
“I’m sure you will as well one day. He’s an interesting character.” He chuckled.
“So, you have met him, then?”
“Yes, though it was…” Hammer Strike frowned. “Technically a long time ago.”
“Can you tell me about him?”
“In a simple way, he’s a mad stallion traveling around in a blue box who deals with time.” He gave a soft smile. “He’s around almost anytime he’s needed.”
“Without the blue box, he sounds similar to you.”
“I’m only slightly insane and paranoid, thank you very much,” Hammer Strike replied. “Mostly paranoid.”
“But you’re there when people need you.”
“As much as I can be.”
“You don’t understand what you’ve done, do you?”
“I’m afraid I don’t understand the question.” Hammer Strike’s brow furrowed.
“You have created a safe place in one of the unsafest time periods in known history. You’ve made peace between races that have no common ground.”
Hammer Strike blinked a few times as he thought over the words. “I … suppose I have.” He hummed to himself. “Honestly, I don’t really pay attention to that side of things.”
“Can you meet me outside the gate tomorrow in the evening? I have something to show you.”
“I can.”
“I’ll see you there, then,” she said, walking farther into the library.
Hammer Strike bid her farewell and set a reminder for himself. In the meantime, he continued his training underground. Thankfully, one thing to help him keep track of time had remained functional in the augments in his eyes, so when the reminder already came up, he was almost surprised.
He found Clover in the brush near the gate, a place thick enough with cover that they couldn’t be seen, but still close enough to protection in the event of an attack. She’d donned a full robe and handed Hammer Strike leathers to wear.
Hammer Strike raised a brow but simply donned the equipment. “Any particular reason?”
“There’s something I want to show you.” She wove a glamour around them carefully, then led them to the gatehouse, where a Unicorn and Earth Pony, both dressed in chainmail with their crossbows nearby, sat playing cards.
“Hello,” Clover greeted them. “Treefoil. I just signed up. And this is Grimm. He doesn’t talk much.” She gestured to Hammer Strike.
Hammer Strike simply followed along and gave a nod.
“Hello.” The unicorn spoke with a thicker accent. “Come, have a seat by the fire.”
They all sat in amicable silence for a few moments before Clover spoke up. “So, seems like a busy place. Heard there was an attack a few days ago. Wonder who the mayor pissed off, huh?” Clover asked.
“The mayor did nothing. Those Pegasi should have known better than to come after Unity. So, why’d you join up?”
“I just felt I wasn’t doing any good working for Duke Tariff. All that attacking and raiding villages. Here, we’re only expected to defend others. Our mayor doesn’t expect us to dirty our conscience.”
“I just wanted to make a difference,” the Earth Pony chimed in. “More than I could have stuck on a farm. The mayor offers us opportunities to do what we want.”
“Yes but it’s a step down, isn’t it?” Clover asked the Unicorn.
“I’d give up any title to do it again.” The guard shrugged. “The queen doesn’t even know how to wield power. If tomorrow, the mayor decided he wanted to conquer the world, I wouldn’t hesitate to follow him.”
Clover nodded. “Well, we should be going. You two enjoy yourselves.” Clover nodded her head. “Come on, Grimm.”
Hammer Strike blinked before moving to follow.
“Some people try to know everpony’s name. You don’t really have that option, but sometimes a few can help,” she said as they stopped well out of earshot.
“I never really thought on it.” Hammer Strike hummed to himself.
“For some, it’s safety for the sake of being safe from others, but there are those who come here for the safety of not being forced to do things they don’t want to. And yet others still who look for the freedom you offer. Are you starting to understand now? You’ve created a place that's unlike anywhere else on Equis.”
Hammer Strike blinked a few times as he processed everything before a small smile crept across his muzzle.
“They follow you for more then just some dumb oath. You give them hope, all of them. I’ve talked to many, and they're practically all like this. These Ponies would give you their souls if you asked them to.”
“An almost terrifying level of trust.” Hammer Strike looked to Clover. “I … appreciate this bit of perspective.”
She laid a hoof on his shoulder. “Just remember; everyone appreciates what you’ve done for us.”
He gave her a smile. “I know that now. Thank you.”
The autumn winds stirred playfully as they danced between the warmth of summer and the frigidness of winter. However, this time, they carried more than the whispers of the tree boughs and the whistles of breaking over cracks. The jingle of bells rang with a steady gait over the hills. The sound grew louder as time passed, until a familiar figure wrapped in a blue cloak bedecked with golden bells approached. His beard flowed with streaks of gray that matched his fur coat, and his long horn stood proudly in front of the brim on his hat. It didn’t take long for the Unicorn to draw near. The crescent moon and stars on his cloak glistened dully as he knocked on the stout wooden gates.
“Ho, the gate! I am Star Swirl the Bearded, and I have come to speak with your leader!”
“And how’re we supposed to know you’re the real Star Swirl?” an Earth Pony called back over the wall. “You know how many attacks we’ve had to repel already this year alone?”
“I know your leader is an Earth Pony named Hammer Strike. He lives in a cabin in the center of this town,” Star Swirl said.
“Lucky guess,” the Pony argued. “Lots of Ponies know that name by now. Got anything else to identify yourself with?”
“Call Clover the Clever. She’ll vouch for me.”
The Earth Pony narrowed her gaze suspiciously, then turned back to the other guards. A hastily whispered conversation was followed by a Pegasus flying off toward town. “You sit tight, stranger. We’ll see what’s what soon enough.”
The door opened not ten minutes later. Clover stood not far off looking expectantly as the older Unicorn entered.
“I see that the reception hasn’t much improved from the last time I visited this place,” Star Swirl said as he passed through the doors. “It feels like the whole world has shifted around this settlement, both the shadow and the light. Just what have you and that master of yours gotten yourselves into now, Clover?”
“We’ve had to do a lot to keep things safe,” Clover stated simply. “Vampires are merciless, after all.”
“Indeed, they are,” Star Swirl agreed, then sighed. “I’m sorry about the Pegasi. I tried to dissuade them, but nopony is willing to listen to reason, despite the accords you helped bring to pass.”
“And why would my accords make them trusting?” Clover asked. “Those accords are mine alone. In Unity, species and tribe don’t hold water.”
“So I surmised when an Earth Pony questioned my credentials. Just what have you been building here, though? There is a different sort of magic here than I felt last time. If I didn’t know better, I’d say it was some form of protection, but I sense no active channel behind it.”
“Runic spells, for the most part, supported by the magic of every Pony in the village. You don’t sense active channels because there is no active upkeep.”
“A remarkable concept. Dangerous, given the volatile reaction combining mana provided for you last time, but it does appear you’ve ironed out the kinks,” Star Swirl admitted. “And I see those strange orbs are still present. Does your new master never tire?”
“You … probably wouldn’t understand,” she admitted.
“Me, not understand?” Star Swirl laughed. “Ah, how I missed that sense of humor.”
“I wasn’t joking.”
“Of course you weren’t.” Star Swirl smiled, then sighed and sobered. “Still, I do need to speak to Hammer Strike urgently. Things are beginning to move at a much faster rate than I initially anticipated.”
“Things are breaking down faster?”
“Far more so than should be normal. I suspect foul play. And given the attacks you mentioned from vampires and the shift in the shadows I detected….”
“Platinum’s incompotent,” Clover said bluntly. “When you hear wingbeats, think owls, not dragons.”
“While I grant you the point on her incompetence, I believe she and other leaders are being manipulated beyond their usual extremes. The pride of the Unicorns and the hot blood of the Pegasi make them easier targets. Of the three tribes, you’ll likely have the least trouble from the Earth Ponies, and possibly your earliest alliance in the battles to come. Hammer Strike is becoming a very prominent name lately.”
“I wouldn’t say completely,” Clover noted. “We had a visit from the son of Drakenfeller.”
“Swift Strike? Now that is news. It explains the distance he’s kept from the court of late, though. I keep warning the girl, but she simply won’t listen. If the course of events doesn’t change soon, Platinum will have a full coup on her hooves with no allies to support her.”
“As for the Pegasi, I don’t think they’ll be as great a threat to us as most would believe.”
“I wasn’t referring to the threat they may or may not pose. I’m referring to the division that is being exploited among them to weaken them. That is what I wish to discuss with your master.”
“You have some idea that involves him?”
“Assuming he agrees. Though it is quite possible that even without my plan, the result will be the same. It will simply take longer.”
“You going to tell me?”
“Perhaps. Though it would likely be better if you were in the room to offer advice and hear at the same time. From what you’ve led me to believe, you have quite the prominent position here. As such, it is only fitting that you be present when I explain.”
“Maybe.” She shrugged. “Never was striving to be important.”
The two finally arrived at the cottage, where Celestia was hard at work clearing the leaves from the lawn. Star Swirl’s jaw dropped at the sight. “Is that…?”
Celestia turned. “Oh, Clover. I didn’t realize you were planning on visiting today. Who’s your guest? I don’t think I’ve seen him around the town before.”
“This is my mentor, Star Swirl the Bearded,” Clover offered.
“Oh, so this is your old magic instructor.” Clover smiled and offered a hoof. “Celestia. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
Star Swirl gulped and shook the hoof gently. “The,” he cleared his throat, “pleasure is all mine.”
“Father is in his forge, if you’re looking for him.” She looked to Clover. “Would you like me to get him for you, or would you prefer to go yourself?”
“You go.” Clover nodded.
“Be back in a jiff.” Celestia smiled and disappeared in a flash of golden light.
“That was. That was.... That’s Hammer Strike’s daughter? Who is the mother?” Star Swirl asked.
“They’re not his daughters by blood. They’re … the last of their kind,” Clover explained. “It seems the Alicorns were not what we expected.”
“It sounds like there is much yet still to be learned here,” Star Swirl noted as he eyed his former pupil. “But I suppose that will have to wait for another time.”
Another flash of light passed through the air, followed by Celestia and Hammer Strike.
“Well, it’s certainly been a while, Star Swirl,” Hammer Strike commented.
“Indeed, it has,” Star Swirl agreed. “I hoped to have a word with you, if you’ve the time.”
Hammer Strike nodded and directed them over to his living room. “What seems to be the issue this time around?”
“To put it bluntly, the three nations are standing on the brink of open warfare again. The two main aggressors are the Pegasi and the Unicorns. The Pegasi are seeking to claim any food they can for themselves, as I’m certain you are already aware. The Unicorns are more interested in seizing power and land to be independent from the crown, now that Princess Platinum has become queen. To be perfectly blunt, Hammer Strike, they need a unifying force to restore peace and order. And like it or not, I believe that you will eventually become that force. It doesn’t help that other forces are working behind the scenes to stir things up either.” He sighed and shook his head. “The shadows are stirring.”
“I’ve already had plenty of confrontations in the last few years to figure that part out.” Hammer Strike sighed. “I can’t play said unifying force if they’re all against it. Should I use force to bring that about, it wouldn’t be a peace, simply fear of a higher power.”
“Regardless of what you may desire, the violence will only increase. Either the factions will come to you willingly to form treaties or they will attack. And when they become sufficiently weakened, I fear the shadows will strike, leading to a far more dangerous confrontation. It’s my hope to assist you in forming treaties with the surrounding tribes, so the better outcome may come to pass. That is, if you are willing to allow me the attempt.”
“If they are to accept my rule, I hold no ill will toward anyone.” He shook his head. “In that, though, lies the problem. Do you believe yourself capable of assisting in forming treaties between the races to fall under my rule, an Earth Pony?”
“An Earth Pony that has already united many races under his banner, including the fierce and advanced Gryphon race. Add that to a testimony from me, and there will be a great deal of weight toward that end. As to whether it will prove successful or not, I cannot say. But it seems the best option, given how things appear to be progressing.”
“You’re free to try, but, as much as I hate to say it, conflict will rise from it.”
“The question is how much can be headed off in the long run,” Star Swirl agreed. “With your permission, I’ll start with the Earth Ponies. Chancellor Puddinghead is a close acquaintance of Clover’s. I believe she will be willing to negotiate, especially when she learns you have Clover’s trust.”
Hammer Strike glanced over to Clover for her opinion.
“Well, I mean, it’s possible, though Puddinghead’s starting to get up there in years. I’ve heard she may be starting to lose her grip.”
“I still would like to make the attempt. At the very least, it will give me the opportunity to meet their new leader, assuming what you say is true. While I don’t get involved in the conflicts between the tribes, I do like to retain relations with their leaders.”
Hammer Strike frowned before sighing. “Do what you can. We’ll see how the results fare.”
“I will retain contact with Clover. She can relay my reports to you as I travel.” He rose from the chair he had taken and nodded. “Thank you for your hospitality.”
“Until next time.”
Star Swirl strode out purposefully. One could just glimpse the bow he offered to Celestia before he turned down the lane and began the walk back to the gate.
“He’s likely to fail, though the chances of success are still present.” Hammer Strike hummed.
“He’s a genius. The problem is he fails to comprehend that others can’t understand his genius or see the world as he does.” Clover sighed. “That’s gonna get him in trouble one day.”
“Definitely.” He sighed. “We might need to prepare for war sometime soon.”
“Anything in particular? I mean, we’re already laid out for several sieges.”
“We might go to war with both the Pegasi and Unicorns. In all likelihood, soon after the first. Whoever attacks second will potentially wait until the first is complete. Thus, in our moment of ‘weakness,’ they’d believe us to be open.” He frowned. “The Earth Ponies, however, I’m unsure of. They’ve been very accepting of myself and the town. Honestly, they are the most likely to accept my rule.”
“Perhaps we should see about getting the Pegasi and Gryphons to collaborate on some kind of cloud fortress?”
“Definitely. The more we can work with, the better.”
“Should I have Binding send for mercenaries? Maybe offer amnesty or to pay off bounties as a bonus?”
Hammer Strike frowned as he thought it over. “It might be a good idea, though we need to be able to sustain those numbers.”
“Currently, we make enough food in a single harvest to feed a population several times our size,” Clover noted. “And that's the standard harvest season. Ours are nearly five times as common for most food crops.”
“Then we’ll need to look into some barracks to hold them.”
“I’ll see about talking to the builders. Seems like it would be a good idea to work on a college as well.”
“The more spells our spellcasters can understand, the better.”
“Exactly what I was thinking. Magic may be a key advantage in a war. Moreso the deeper we can go. Which, leading into, I was wondering if I could ask a favor.”
Hammer Strike raised a brow.
“I need you to name me archmage, or court mage, or whatever you think your equivalent would be. With that authority, I can possibly begin luring in Unicorns who have been ostracized or worse. It’s power we could probably use. And as your archmagus, they’d swear oaths to me, which would then put them under my oath to you.”
Hammer Strike hummed for a moment. “I mean, sure. To be honest, you, Binding, and Ainz are the top three mages this place will ever have, so granting you three the titles of Archmage would be apt.”
“And it would carry some weight outside Unity.”
“Then, by all means. I can’t hold a ceremony for it, but I doubt anyone would try to call you out for that. From henceforth, you will be my archmage.”
“Thank you. I'll make sure to use it for the betterment of Unity.”
Hammer Strike gave a soft smile. “I’m positive you will.”
The coolness of fall had finally come to an end, and with it the last of the harvests in the other lands. As such, the guards who volunteered at the wall were put on higher alert for approaching visitors, be they from the air or the land. And so it was that they came to see the party approaching long before the delegation reached the doors. A loud hoof hammered against the gate with immense force, and a loud voice broke through the air.
“I’m here to see Hammer Strike!” The Pony that stood at the door was bedecked in a worn robe and a thick hat that pulled down around her ears to provide warmth against the cold. “Tell him Chancellor Puddinghead’s here!”
After many magical detection tests and visual identification, the Pony finally found herself face to face with Hammer Strike for the second time. She looked him over with serious scrutiny as the exposed pieces of her mane bobbed in the air. “Same glower, more scars, same smell, but glowing eyes (nice feature, by the way). No tool belt this time. And you got a different coat.” She rubbed her chin in thought, then nodded. “Okay, I’ll believe it. You’re the real Hammer Strike.”
“Okay...?” Hammer Strike raised a brow. “What brings you to Unity, Puddinghead? I’m certain it wasn’t just to visit.”
“Nope. Though I probably should’ve come back sooner. Things have just been really busy settling everypony in. Pretty much, we talked with Star Swirl, and he pointed out the food we’ve been able to stockpile for the winter’s probably going to make us a big target to most anypony else. So, I was kinda hoping to work out a deal with you, so we don’t have to worry about getting killed by thieves.”
“That’s somewhat difficult, given the current standing.” Hammer Strike gestured for her to follow him.
“That so? Tell me more.” Puddinghead beamed as they passed into the town. “Oh, and you remember my companion, Smart Cookie, right? Say hello, Smart Cookie!”
The stallion waved bleakly. “Hello again.”
“With feeling, Smart Cookie. Come on. What’s life without a smile?”
Smart Cookie rolled his eyes. “Relaxing?”
They soon arrived at Hammer Strike’s home, where he invited them inside and gave them a place in his living room. “Now we’re in a more private atmosphere.”
“Wow. You’ve really spruced up the place since the last time we were here. By the way, who’s the mare with the pink mane?” she asked as she pointed calmly toward the kitchen.
“My daughter, Celestia,” Hammer Strike replied before looking over. “Speaking of which, Celestia, where is your sister?”
“Out learning from the Thestrals.”
“Fair enough.” Hammer Strike nodded before turning his attention back to Puddinghead and Smart Cookie.
Smart Cookie gaped at Celestia while Puddinghead continued like nothing out of the ordinary had happened.
“So, can we talk about those standings you told me about?”
“Honestly, we have no connections between our town and any of the other nations, beside disputes that have occurred recently.”
Puddinghead circled the air with a hoof. “Go on.”
“To put it simply, my subjects have no reason to support those who they are uncertain about. From the disputes they’ve had to fight, it’s hard to just freely offer help when they’re worried of a knife in the back.”
“Okay, so … what’s the problem?”
Smart Cookie facehoofed.
“I mean, we haven’t given you any trouble, have we?” Puddinghead continued.
“For now, correct.” Hammer Strike sighed. “Alternate approach, what exactly are you looking for, and what do you have to offer?”
“Pretty much, we’re looking for a compromise. We give you something you want, and you give us something we want, sort of a trade.”
“What do you need from us?”
“Well, you know how big we are on families. The food we have stored may get us through this year’s winter, but that doesn’t mean we’ll be able to do that every year. If you could maybe help us build our lands, maybe train some of our folk how to fight, we can lend you some of our own skills. Us Earth Ponies are really good with our hooves. And we hear a lot, too. The other tribes usually underestimate us.” She said it so matter-of-factly that Hammer Strike couldn’t tell whether she was being sly or just blatantly honest.
He frowned as he thought things over. “Information and trained specialists in exchange for assistance from us. I’ll need to discuss things further with others before I can make this decision.”
“We can wait.” Puddinghead smiled. “And in the meantime, I can teach your daughter some of my recipes. I haven’t seen what you’ve done to the kitchen yet.”
“Celestia?” Hammer Strike called out to get her opinion.
“I suppose, if she wants. Though I’m not sure if she has any recipes we don’t already have on file.”
Puddinghead grinned and rubbed her hooves together with a wicked chortle that sounded almost like a cackle. “That sounds like a challenge.”
Smart Cookie cringed.
Hammer Strike sighed as he stood and headed towards the exit. As soon as he stepped outside, he frowned and thaumically formed a link to Binding. “Hey, are you free right now?”
“Give me ten … no, five minutes,” came the quick response.
“When you’re free, come to my house. I’ll be waiting.”
True to his word, Binding arrived swiftly and promptly. “How may I be of service?”
“We’ve got a deal to make with Puddinghead. Needed some other input alongside me.”
“In what way?”
“Well, I trust your opinion on the general outlook of our town and those within. I’d prefer a second perspective on the deal.” He gestured towards the door. “They’re inside.”
“Then, by all means.”
Hammer Strike brought Binding in and settled him in the living room. “Puddinghead, I’m back.”
“Ooh! Who’s this?”
“Greetings. I am Binding Strategy.” Binding bowed. “Consider me a … counselor of sorts. I’m here to help facilitate negotiations.”
“Oh, I thought Hammer Strike and I already had things ironed out.” She looked questioningly to Hammer Strike. Flour and bits of dough clung to her mane, but she still managed to radiate joy, despite the appearance.
“The basics, perhaps, but a proper peace treaty requires specific terms that bind an individual. And given the authority that you bear as the leader of your tribe, that means that you are agreeing to bind yourself and every Pony who follows you.”
“Yeah, so what’s the big deal?”
Smart cookie sighed. “He’s saying that means they’ll all be bound by whatever you agree to, no matter what, Chancellor, even if they don’t want to do it.”
“Oh.” Puddinghead frowned briefly, then perked up again. “That just means we’ll have to make a deal everypony agrees with.”
“She is surprisingly chipper, isn’t she?” Binding asked Hammer Strike.
“Yeah.”
“All right, then.” Binding’s glasses flashed as he smiled. “Let’s get down to the details.”
“Hope you’re ready to be here for a while,” Smart Cookie murmured.
The first gleam of light on the horizon beyond the wall came not from the rising of the sun, but a multicolored dome that flickered and pulsed with the energy of a hundred horns. Foals were circled by stallions and mares whose brows were sweaty and legs shaking from exhaustion. Still, they held their ground and plowed forward one step at a time as the little ones nudged or supported them. Many wore rags, some few the trappings of armor, others a pathetic imitation cobbled together from bits of cloth and chain mail. Frost coated their bodies, granting them a glitter no Pony had seen before. Many of their frames were emaciated, and some of the foals hung in slings, shivering next to their mothers’ or fathers’ chests for warmth.
The alert passed quickly through the ranks on the wall, and though many tears welled in the eyes of those who watched, the warriors were still wary. Dawn had not yet come, and this could just as easily be a cunning trap as it was a wandering group of refugees.
A stallion approached the gate waving a white flag. “Ho, the gate! Truce! We wish to parlay with your leader!” His tone wasn’t demanding, surprisingly enough, more pleading.
“All attempts at parlay must be performed in the light of day, with no exceptions, by order of Hammer Strike. If you wish to make petition, you must wait until after sunrise,” one of the guards replied insistently.
“Please! It’s not safe out here!”
“We know. Which is why we’re not allowed to bring any strangers behind these walls until after daybreak. We’ve already been attacked by vampires and Pegasi. Hammer Strike would rather we not risk anything else.”
“Please! We have foals down here!”
“And we have foals in here. The only way you might have a chance to enter our home before then is if you all submit yourselves to testing from one of our magic casters.”
“They’re fine,” a familiar voice spoke behind the guard.
“Master Ainz, we were just about to send for you.” The guard bowed to the Minotaur, then turned to address the remaining troops at the gate. “All right, let them through!”
The herd entered with relief. Many collapsed when they passed through the portal. Others wept while they kissed the ground. Some foals asked about food while others fell asleep out of sheer exhaustion. Their ribs showed clearly against their sides.
The response was immediate. Blankets were fetched and laid over the foals and mares to conserve warmth. When all was settled, the guard turned to the lich and bowed his head again. “Should we get Hammer Strike, Sir, or did you want to handle this parlay?”
“Let's be sure what they want. Then we can bother Hammer Strike,” Ainz said.
“Of course, Sir.” The Pony led the Minotaur to the party, where the standard bearer laid in wait. Of the various Unicorns there, he was among the few wearing anything close to a proper set of clothes. Dark bags hung heavily under his eyes, and the frost had dyed his mane a partial silver as the crystals began to melt into droplets. As usual, Ainz wore his gauntlets and mask to prevent anyone from seeing his true nature.
“So, may I ask the intention of your … group?”
“Ideally, sanctuary.” The stallion barely had the strength to keep his head up. “The kingdom is crumbling to bits, and Queen Platinum refuses to hear her subjects’ pleas.”
“You are aware that you’d be effectively giving up your rights as citizens of the kingdom, correct?”
“Do we look like that would bother us at this point? We barely managed to get here with our lives intact. If the lords and ladies don’t ruin everything, then those things will.” He shuddered.
“Are you all prepared to swear an oath to Hammer Strike?” Ainz asked.
“If he takes better care of us than they did, many here would give their very souls.”
“I understand your kingdom has very strong opinions on the cultures of others. Lord Hammer Strike would expect those opinions to die at the gate.”
“Anything else?”
“Are there any of the peerage in your ranks?”
The Unicorn shook his head. “A few would-be-knights, a ragtag band of merchants, some farmers, and a number of certain individuals of the,” he cleared his throat, “entrepreneurial persuasion, if you catch my drift.”
Ainz nodded. “Unfortunately, we don’t have anything ready for your group, so we’ll move you to the churchyard for the night. You’ll be provided with wood for fires, and someone will come around with food. For your own protection, stay in the churchyard. As you’ve heard, we’ve had our own share of attacks, and you are far safer under Father Anderson’s watch than anywhere else.”
The stallion sighed in relief. “Praise Faust.”
“Aside from the normal laws, we have one major rule here. Everyone who is useful is welcome. Lord Hammer strike doesn’t judge based on species, creed, or past. You and yours will have the same opportunities everyone else does, provided you respect this rule.”
“Given the fact you are clearly among the higher ranked individuals in this settlement, I suspected something along those lines. I don’t know if all of the party will accept this rule, but I will inform them and have them decide for themselves. Given the alternative, I believe most will have no difficulty accepting the stipulation.”
“Well then, best get yourselves settled in. We’ll get you a meal and let you rest, and once that's done, Lord Hammer Strike will probably visit you as a group with one of his other advisors. Binding Strategy. I understand he has a reputation amongst your people.”
The stallion recoiled at the name. “Yes, one that is … less than savory.”
The cold weather had been particularly vicious for the last week, leaving many a Pony bound indoors. The Pegasi and Gryphons had worked to mitigate the storms as much as possible, but with the sheer mass of the clouds, it was impossible to keep the whole storm system at bay. Drifts of snow had built up over the roads, making for unkind travelling conditions, but excellent playfields for the little ones. However, despite the relative peace the harsh weather had brought as a result of the stormy conditions, a dark paul had begun to color the sky a greasy black, and the barest hints of brimstone and sulfur mingled with sweet woodsmoke followed after it.
Three roars chorused over the land, causing the snow to fall from the limbs of trees and the roofs of the houses the town had established. Yharon had been in the middle of a snowball fight with the other foals, using his feathered wings as guards against the onslaught of would-be-dragonslayers with their weapons of choice while he prepared his counterattack. He wasn’t even angry when a stray snowball smacked into his face. His neck had grown long and thick with muscle, while his horns had begun to corkscrew behind his head in a dignified manner not unlike a crown of sorts. His claws dug reflexively into the ground, and he shuddered, then looked intently at the foals. He raised one hand, and a fiery corona of light surrounded it. The snowballs stopped immediately and dropped to the ground, while the foals rose into the air.
“Sorry, but it’s time for you all to go home,” the young drake said.
“No fair!” one of the foals complained. “You promised we weren’t gonna use magic!”
“I also didn’t account for unexpected guests.” The roars echoed again, louder this time. “You all go home. I’ll alert the guards.” He raised a claw to silence any objections. “And no dawdling.”
Yharon sighed as the foals retreated to the safety of their homes, then took to the air. The lack of thermals always made this a tiring process on his back and shoulder muscles, but years of practice had helped to strengthen his body against the exertions. The Dragon now stood at just over six-and-a-half feet in height when standing on all fours. When he rose to his hind legs, that height nearly doubled. He settled heavily on the wall and peered out onto the horizon, where flashes of different colored light punctuated the bellows that shot through the air, complemented by the occasional gurgling chortle.
“Laugh fire.” The drake rolled his eyes. “Probably some idiots going on a rampage to test their strength.”
“Will there be any trouble?” one of the guards asked.
Yharon shook his head. “Not for us. Dragons are usually only interested in stroking their egos, asserting dominance, and filling their bellies and hoards with gems or gold. That being said, an alert should be given to the Diamond Dogs and Dwarves. If those Dragons get hungry, they’re going to go for the mines first. Has Father been alerted yet?”
“N-no, Yharon.”
Yharon sighed. “I’ll tell him. Given the potential threat, he’ll likely want to be there to deal with them himself.”
“No need,” Hammer Strike commented as he drew near. Ulkrusher sat on his back. “They’re a loud bunch.”
“Given what you’ve told me of them, this is normal behavior, isn’t it?” Yharon asked.
“For the most part.” Hammer Strike frowned. “They’re bound to come over here next.”
“Shall we head them off?”
“Given what I’m hearing, it’d be best for you not to get involved.” Hammer Strike frowned.
Yharon grimaced, but otherwise maintained his calm. “If that’s what you think is best.”
Hammer Strike sighed. “I know you’d like to get a better perspective on things, but you’re still growing. I’d rather not risk things, you know?”
Yharon sighed. “I know. You told me about how you found my egg, and who asked you to look after me. It’s just … difficult being on the sidelines like this sometimes.” He shook his wings. “Would you like me to put the rest of town on alert while you’re gone?”
“Yes.” Hammer Strike gave him a soft smile. “One day, you’ll be out here, same as me. You don’t need to rush it.”
Yharon smiled ruefully. “Doesn’t change the fact I want to, though. Good luck, Father.” Wind billowed from the dragon’s wings as he forced himself back into the air.
Hammer Strike sighed as he leapt off the wall in the direction of the dragons. He’d have to prepare himself for more agile movement against them, but as long as there wasn’t an older dragon amongst them, he would have less troubles than the Ursa. He couldn’t help but grin to himself. This would be an excellent addition to his workout.
They were three mature male dragons, large and imposing, as dragons tended to be. One was gray like stone, his body covered in small jagged edges. A cyan Dragon flew on his right. In contrast, this male was much smoother looking with scales that resembled plates. The last was an odd lime-green color, thinner and smaller than the other two, but still fairly large. The three were swooping and moving through the air scorching the area with jets of fire.
Hammer Strike sighed once again as thaumic energy seeped off him. “Just what are you lot trying to accomplish?” he called out in perfect Draconic. It had been some time since he’d spoken the language, but he could still recall how to speak it. His power had augmented his voice to make it audible even to the relatively thick skulls of Dragons.
The three creatures stopped, turning to the spot where he stood. When their gaze fell on him, they chuckled and bared their teeth. “And what does a Pony care what we do?”
“Well, you’re getting too close to my land, and I don’t exactly care for it.”
“And what if we don’t care about you not caring?” the gray one asked as he sneered at the Pony.
Hammer Strike sighed as he targeted each of the dragons’ wings thaumically and forced them to be unable to interact with the air around them. Without much ceremony, the three suddenly found themselves rapidly dropping until they each crashed into the ground.
He looked to all three as they failed to lift off in any manner. “Then I’ll do something about it.” He narrowed his gaze. “Taking your flight will be the nicest thing I do to you.”
“This little morsel barely qualifies as a snack,” the green one said in a higher nasally voice. “But I think I can live with that. What do you boys say to tenderizing this little appetizer?”
Hammer Strike sighed as he pulled Ulkrusher off his back. “Ex Divinia etiam. Can we just get this over with? I was in the middle of a project.”
The gray Dragon lashed out first, and Hammer Strike swung. Ulkrusher connected with a loud crack as the Dragon's lower jaw hung loose. Even as his compatriot bellowed in pain, the cyan dragon reared back and let loose a strem of fire at Hammer Strike, only for it to end abruptly as, from within the flames, Hammer Strike drew a great sword from containment and threw it to impale the Dragon’s throat cleanly. Even as the creature was in its death throes, Hammer Strike moved on the stone-gray dragon and hit it on the side of the head with Ulkrusher. Horns and scales shattered under the mighty hammer. Teeth flew from the dislocated jaw and spattered the ground. The Dragon went down, and Hammer Strike hit the neck one last time to ensure it was dead. The snap of the bone along its neck rang through the air as its wind pipe was crushed. With two foes down, he advanced on the now very-much-frightened lime-green Dragon. Yet ever proud, the beast still managed to conjure up a glower for the adversary that had so soundly defeated its party.
The dragon backed away, closing his eyes and awaiting the inevitable. Blistering pain scorched across his hide as a large scale over his chest was torn free, revealing the smaller weaker scales beneath.
“Now, I’m going to keep things simple.” Hammer Strike directed his thaumaturgy to force the dragon to the ground to be at his level. “You’re going to go back to your lands. You’re going to spread the word. If you come over here looking for trouble, I’ll be there.” His voice became soft, but every syllable was like another blow from his mighty hammer. “And I’m not going to make it a quick death next time.” He released the Dragon from its compulsion to give it the chance to respond. “Do I make myself clear?”
Without a word, the Dragon nodded.
“Good.” He released the Dragon's wings. “Now get lost.”
Immediately, the dragon took to the air, speeding away from the area with all the haste it could muster..
Hammer Strike waited a few minutes before sighing. “Ainz,” he called out. “Got some dragon corpses for you to bring back to Unity.”
“I’ll have a crew get to it immediately.”
“Well, we can add Dragonslayer to his titles now,” Vital said as he looked over the rest of his fellow watchers. “How many does that make now?”
“As many as Celestria, I feel,” Pensword answered.
“I wonder if that's when they really started terrorizing others?” Grif asked.
“The Dragons? Maybe, at least till Hammer Strike vanished and before Celestia and Luna showed they were Dragonslayers as well.”
“My guess is Hammer Strike will probably make sure to put them in their place if they do anything to try and hurt his people,” Vital noted.
“Likely, but I don’t think that will be immediate,” Grif responded
“It shouldn’t take that long to find out with how quickly things seem to be moving,” Rarity noted. “Though the fact he managed to do … that to two of their number so easily will likely act as a good deterrent for at least a time,” Rarity said.
“Indeed.” Pensword paused. “Okay, … I just realized Hammer Strike and I both shed the blood of Dragons.” He looked to Grif and Vital. “So, when are you two going to face them?”
“Hopefully never. You know my policy, Pensword. I don’t shed blood unless it’s necessary,” Vital said.
“Honestly, I have better things to do than pick fights.” Grif shrugged. “Not like it would be hard, though. Vigilance and vengeance were made for dragon slaying.”
“True. I was just commenting on a trend I noticed.” He shook his head. “I wonder if we could find a history book on what is going on to fill in what we are clearly missing.”
“You know the Doctor wouldn’t let us look, even if there were,” Vital noted. “Not unless the TARDIS herself did it behind his back.”
“Maybe, but let's leave it for now. Twilight, Rarity, Pensword, come on. You all could use some work,” Grif noted.
“Oh? What’s on the docket today?” Pensword asked.
“Pain.” Grif chuckled. “Lots and lots of pain.”
“What flavor?” Pensword replied with his own chuckle.
“You’ll find out,” Grif said before departing the room.
Twilight winced, even as Rarity walked beside her for support. “Don’t worry, darling. You should only be … somewhat worried.”
Twilight deadpanned. “Gee. I feel better already.”
“I’ve found him again.” Ainz materialized in the cottage kitchen in a gate of dark fire.
“At last.” Hammer Strike sighed with relief. “I’ll get equipped, and … I’ll need you to gather Anderson and Jostling. Get them to prepare. You as well.”
“I took the liberty of alerting them. They’ll meet us at the gate in thirty minutes,” Ainz said. “I’m ready as I’ll ever be.”
Hammer Strike nodded. “Alert Celestia, Luna, and Yharon to come home quickly, so I can discuss things with them.”
Ainz produced a sheet of parchment, wrote something on it, and sent it away in more dark fire.
Hammer Strike placed his knife down and started to move toward his workshop, only to poke his head out from the doorway a second later. “Make sure the stew doesn’t boil over, would you?” he asked before descending.
“But … I can't cook,” Ainz said, looking down at the stew, confused.
Hammer Strike sighed as he entered the workspace. As per last time, he grabbed his usual equipment: the solar greathammer, and silver blade. It wasn’t until he moved towards his worktable to gather some additional pieces that he stumbled across the die that he had gathered from Cayde.
He hummed to himself before taking it and weighing it in his hoof. It had given him a useful tool last time, and the time before, so perhaps he would give it another go. He nodded to himself before rolling the die out onto the floor in front of him. It tumbled around the ground before settling on the number five.
Out of the light came a long blue blade before him. It appeared to be a greatsword in scale. The blade itself emanated a soft light from its crystal-like structure. The guard was curved to protect the hand or face of the wielder, depending on species and how it was grabbed. The light circulated fluidly, like gentle lapping waves in a pool, while two protrusions extended from the hilt up a fuller that had been carved to hold the inserts in place. The weave of the hilt’s handle was also metal, with bands of crystal and leather to cushion it for use. Its pommel was an extension of the sword’s curious element, bearing the same stone that glowed with an inner power, surrounded by a metal that appeared a mixture of gold and something else. A closer inspection revealed a series of pulsing darker veins that looked almost like an extension of the metal from the hilt poured into a mold to form an intricate root-like structure that curved and knotted itself with a design similar to celtic or nordic origins.
Thirty minutes later and the group was waiting. Anderson and Ainz looked pretty much the same, aside from Anderson wearing a new silver amulet on his neck. Jostling Joyance had donned a slightly thicker leather jerkin with steel pauldrons and a single sword with an elaborate gold handle. Luck had been inscribed onto the cross hilt, with a single letter P written in dried blood in front of it. The sword was regular iron, but when Hammer Strike had offered to inscribe the symbol on it, Joyance had refused, stating it would work just fine without it.
“Thanks to Ainz, we have located the elder vampire once again,” Hammer Strike started. “Anderson, Ainz, and Joyance, you’ll be traveling with me, due to your past experience and safety measures from said vampires. Celestia, Luna, and Yharon, you three will have to look after Unity in my absence.”
“We managed last time, so I’m sure we can do it again,” Celestia said.
“We’ll be ready for anything that comes,” Luna assured him.
“With the four of us and our various skills, we should be able to subdue this vampire and his coven much more easily,” Ainz noted.
“There is something though that I need to address before we set off. Should anything happen to me, I need you all to make a tactical retreat. Plan accordingly before rushing in, all right? Plan according to wherever they move me.”
“Why not keep a beacon on you, so you can be tracked?” Yharon suggested. “That way, you won’t have to worry, even if you are captured.”
“Ainz is already connected to me through contract, so he is able to track my location with ease,” Hammer Strike explained.
“Then what the buck’re we waiting for? Let’s go kill the bloody heathens!” Anderson crowed.
“Keep in mind our opponent is still an elder vampire,” Ainz noted. “Caution is still necessary.”
“The only thing that’s necessary is my blades embedded in its unholy arse, then decapitating the bucker, so he won’t come back.” Anderson grinned as the light reflecting from his glasses completely obscured his eyes.
Hammer Strike sighed before standing. “Ainz, start leading. We’ve got some work to do.”
“Should I open a gate just outside the barrier?”
“If need be, yes.”
Ainz waved a hand at the empty space of the path, and black flames erupted to form a gate. The others seemed reluctant to go through a giant gate of black flames, but nonetheless, Joyance and Anderson proceeded through. Ainz gave Celestia and Luna a nod before following behind Hammer Strike. The gate vanished the moment he was through.
The darkness that greeted them was low and oppressive as a black miasma sifted down from above. The pale light of the moon struggled to shine through the shroud, but ultimately was blocked as the mist flowed in curtain and cloud to veil the structure and festering town that surrounded it. The stench of rotting meat and sulfur struck them like a physical blow. No candles burned. No light shone. But the occasional tortured scream spoke louder than words what awaited below.
“Well, it’s certainly … inviting,” Ainz offered.
“It’s a festering puss sack of dead meat and poisonous vapors,” Anderson said. His bayonets flashed briefly as he spread them between his talons. “And it’s begging me to clear it all out.”
“Calm down. There’s more than enough for all of us.” Ainz laughed. “Doesn’t your faith consider overindulgence a sin?”
“Not when it comes to a scourge like this. These vermin need to be put down, and I’m the perfect exterminator.”
“It’s strange how most vampires tend to come to places like this,” Jostling commented.
Hammer Strike frowned as he scanned over everything before turning to the others. “All right, we need to clear bottom to top. Stick together, all right?”
Their progress was steady enough between the four. They spent the next hour fighting off waves of lesser vampires and minions. Most were simple common low-level ones but a few did prove to be significantly stronger. Manageable, but stronger. Anderson was a dervish, slicing and impaling anything that got within his range. His supply of bayonets never seemed to end as the silver blades claimed many. However, it seemed with each kill, the low purity silver took on too many imperfections, forcing the priest to leave hoards of said blades behind as they lost more and more lethality.
Jostling, in opposition, moved slower and more methodically, channeling energy through his body via breathing exercises. He would often channel it through his sword, causing the blade to shine like the sun. Wounds inflicted by this method rippled through the undead and burned them from the inside out.
Ainz cycled through different spells ranging from tines of dark lighting and balls of unholy fire to icicles formed from holy water he’d borrowed from Anderson. Hammer Strike’s new greatsword proved more than up to the task, and the blade seemed to almost delight in each hit. Silver light burned away from any cut or mark the blade made. Purifying moonlight claimed many vampires quickly.
Eventually, the four found themselves in the dungeon area. Here, they split into teams of two as Jostling Joyance and Anderson checked the western cell blocks while Ainz and Hammer Strike went for the eastern ones.
“I sense a single vampire somewhere closeby, though it’s very weak,” Ainz noted as they walked. “It’s strange. It almost seems to be languishing.”
“That doesn’t sound right, unless they’re starving here, but from the reports I’ve been hearing, that isn’t the case.” Hammer Strike frowned. “Lead the way.”
Ainz led his patron back through the cell block. Anything that was a threat was killed long before they reached it by shadow demons that ripped them to shreds. They stopped before a cell, and the door opened for them, leading to the average accomodations for a dungeon. Across from them was what appeared to be an Earth Pony wrapped in chains. His fur was white and dead-looking, his form emancipated and frail. He looked like he’d been beaten and tortured as he stared at them with cold lifeless eyes.
“Strange that they would do this to one of their own kind,” Ainz said in a low tone.
“The question is, why?” Hammer Strike frowned as he scanned the room, ensuring they were the only other occupants.
“Please, come in. I would have cleaned up, but, well, I’m a little tied up right now, aren’t I?” The voice was deep, almost disturbingly so, and the tone held a threat to it, though greatly diminished.
Hammer Strike simply glanced to Ainz and gave a soft shrug, “No one else in the area,” he commented before moving toward the prisoner.
“You must be the one thats got them so worked up,” the vampire continued. “I suppose I should thank you for that. You stopped my daily torture a whole fifteen minutes ahead of schedule.”
“What’s the reason for the torture? I figured you’d be invited into the fold.”
“Told the boss his haircut looked stupid,” the vampire said. “I suppose it might also have involved me trying to point out creating so many vampires isn’t economically sound, but that was probably a minor issue at best.”
“Can’t deny that,” Hammer Strike muttered. “Though that still doesn’t lead me to why it jumped to torture.”
“I may have gotten caught trying to cull the herd a bit,” he admitted. “And they may have taken exception to that.”
“And there it is,” Hammer Strike commented before rubbing his forehead. “Ainz, anything else around us?”
“Nothing that isn’t already mine, and therefore yours,” Ainz responded.
Hammer Strike hummed to himself for a moment. While he was against the elder vampire, the current one in front of him was clearly not allied with them anymore.
“How about,” Hammer Strike turned back to the prisoner, “we make a deal?”
“If it involves you not sending me to the nine hells, I’ll listen to anything.”
“It’s simple, really. You work for me under a special contract. You do what I say, when I say, and you get to kill other beings of the night when you regain your strength.”
“Would I be able to take moonlit walks? I’m very enthusiastic about my moonlit walks.”
“So long as it doesn’t result in a backlash toward me or my own.”
“Very well. How do we do this? I’d offer you my soul, but, well, vampire kinda makes that a problem.”
“I have methods.” Hammer Strike focused on the vampire thaumically. Energy seeped off his hooves as he started tracking the creature’s soul. While this may well have only been a dead body, the piece he had forsaken or had torn from him was still connected, albeit by just a thread. “By my authority as Thaumaturge, I shall issue this verbal contract. Should you accept, your body and soul become mine, unable to disobey the command of myself or my bloodline. In return, you will be granted freedom and strength befitting your role under my command.”
The dry skin crackled like tissue paper or parchment as the vampire’s mouth pulled into a cheeky smirk. “I, Tarefson accept.” He bowed as far as his restraints would allow. “My master.”
“Then by this order, you are mine henceforth.” Hammer Strike reached forward and placed his hoof against the vampire’s head. As soon as the connection was made, he pulled on the tether leading from the vampire to where his soul was held, only for it to meet resistance. He growled in response and doubled his efforts until it suddenly slipped free, and merged once more with its host.
Tarefson felt a surge of strength as the chains holding him shattered. In the same instant, the strength dissipated, and he fell to the floor panting.
“Welcome to Unity.” Ainz quickly moved to help the vampire up. With a wave of his staff, he created a gate. “Through here, you’ll find a place to recover, and blood lilies to help you regain your strength. It is advisable you stay there until we return.”
Tarefson nodded, surprisingly saying nothing as he stumbled through the gate which vanished behind him.
“He should prove useful.” Hammer Strike hummed. “Though, the soul part was interesting. Whatever held it didn’t like giving it up, even through my force.”
“Devils rarely like giving up their quarry. But willingly given beats forcefully taken. This is the law of magic.”
The echoes of hoofsteps and padded paws with talons soon carried through the shadows as Anderson and Jostling Joyance entered into the ring of light Hammer Strike had cast.
“No vampires. Good number of poor souls being drained for food, though.” Anderson shook his head, then grit his teeth. “Somebody’s got to teach this lot a lesson.” He grinned. “And I’m just the crazy bastard for the job.”
“Well then, it’s time we head up instead of down, I think,” Ainz commented.
Unlike the journey into the tower, the four encountered greater opposition, including ghosts, ghouls, poltergeists, ghasts, zombies, and even one or two minor demons. The very shadows seemed to want to fight them as they passed through the oppressive gloom. The castle was large, and the rooms were each closely connected to one another, sealed by spells and enchantments to hinder any attempts at circling the challenges. In short, any that sought to reach the elder would have to endure a battle of attrition and retain enough strength to challenge the vampire in a final duel. It was at the end of one such battle that a deep-throated cackle carried through the grand library in which they had fought.
“Not one, but two magical anomalies in one setting. And a lich bound in service? What strong power.” The laugh came again. “I would love to find out how it works….”
The spell activated without warning. The floor ignited with chain after chain of runes that glowed with unholy light. Darkness gathered around the edges of the room while the image of a great yawning skull began to coalesce in the ceiling.
“But I’m sure we’ll have plenty of time, soon enough. An eternity,” the voice rasped lustily as the skull took on greater definition. The shadows in its mouth writhed as the jaw expanded to fill most of the ceiling while the rest of the room was surrounded by a powerful barrier. Then it began to descend slowly.
Ainz lifted his staff and tapped it on the ground twice. “Ex Divinia Etiam!” A bright white wave of holy magic erupted from the area the shadows seemed to hiss and writhe in pain as it impacted. The barrier crumbled against it. Without looking, he tapped his staff again and a gate bloomed near Hammer Strike.
“You go on ahead. I’ll handle this.”
Hammer Strike simply nodded and continued on his way.
“Now, as for you, I do hope you planned more than that,” Ainz said. “Or else this won’t justify the three of us.”
“Now you’ve piqued my interest.” The shadows coalesced into a robed form with a long horn that curved high above the cloth. Veins of black and purple coursed through the structure, giving it an unhealthy pallor as two glowing eyes stared balefully under the hood. A thick hoof pulled back the hood to reveal a face that had lost the flesh on the mouth and cheek area of the left side. The stench of decay filled the room, and the very air the Unicorn exhaled left the room a little more stale. An ornate wrought-iron staff stood in his other hoof. Twin pieces of metal writhed in perfect harmony around the main body of the staff, and a large globe shaped like a burning green eye was mounted on the top. More eyes blinked in the areas immediately surrounding the main globe. A discolored set of wings stretched behind from his back in a different color from the rest of his body.
“He’s going to summon minions now,” Ainz told Anderson and Joyance. “You two keep them busy while I work on finding his phylactery. We won’t be able to do anything to him without it.”
Anderson laughed as he unsheathed a fresh supply of his bayonets. “Now you’re speaking my language!”
Joyance nodded as he unsheathed his sword and began working on his breathing.
The room was much larger than the top of the old tower had been. Its floor was an intricate parquet marble. The ceiling was vaulted, with broad wooden beams to support the structure. A great tree had been painted over it with a series of different-sized planets to serve as the fruit at its edges. A starry cosmos surrounded the structure, and constellations formed the shapes of Alicorns, giant scorpions, hydras, and other creatures from Equestria and myths that hadn’t shown themselves in the present.
Once more, the familiar chug of belching machinery could be heard as the dark clouds billowed out the pipes and black wisps faded from the cracks as they dispersed in the room. A Series of mirrors lined the walls, reflecting an infinity of different shapes. And there stood the vampire, waiting patiently as he sipped blood from a wine glass and contemplated the intruder.
“So, you come to me again.”
“Would have been quicker about it, but you like hiding,” Hammer Strike replied with a shrug, keeping his attention on the vampire.
“One cannot entertain if one is not prepared to meet one’s guests. Would you make such a poor host of me?”
“That would imply you’re capable of being a good host. And let me be honest with you. You’re not,” he replied flatly as he unsheathed his greatsword.
“Then it’s time to begin the dance.” He smiled, then flung the contents of his glass forward. The blood expanded in a flood to form a wall that stretched across the room and rose swiftly to touch the ceiling as the vampire’s laughter carried ghostlike through the air.
Hammer strike didn’t take the bait as he swung in a full circle catching the vampire at his seven o’clock position. The vampire was only grazed, but forced to back away as the wound hissed and burned. The vampire's healing only kept it from spreading, but couldn’t fully overpower the moonlight.
The elder clutched the wound as he circled around Hammer Strike. Eventually, the hissing stopped, and the flesh began to mend. With a snarl, he jumped and dove at Hammer Strike with insane speed. Hammer Strike was driven back slightly as he just got the sword up to block. The vampire cried out in pain as he backed away, his hands smoking from the contact.
Not giving his opponent time, Hammer Strike lashed out with his new sword in a wide horizontal arc. This time, he missed by a hair as his opponent jumped back; however, Hammer Strike twisted the blade, changing it’s path for a vertical cleave, and slashed deep into the vampire's thigh.
The warrior cleaved again, and the vampire caught it, grimacing at his burning flesh as he pushed against the blade. Hammer Strike was forced to backpedal, but the damage was still present on his opponent. However, the sudden counter force had left his right foreleg numb.
The vampire lashed out with claws that extended from his hoof like an aeration pick. Pain seared Hammer Strike’s chest as a result of the forceful blow. However, no blood had been drawn. The ursa cloak was again doing its job, it would seem.
Hammer Strike growled and lashed out with the greatsword once more. Again, the vampire managed to dance out of the way, only to cry out as Hammer Strike dug a dagger into his calf from behind. The rune Bonnie had given him glowed fiercely in response to the evil presence.
The enemy slapped Hammer Strike hard enough to send him back several feet before he pulled the dagger out and tossed it. Hammer Strike dropped the sword momentarily as he unloaded a barrage at the vampire with the aid of his thaumic summoning technique. Daggers, javelins, throwing blades, chakrams, all inscribed with the rune flew in a torrent at their target. They cut and chipped away at the elder. Nothing struck a vital area, but every blow left a mark. Some few of the mirrors took some damage, but the vampire had negated enough of the force from the blows to keep them mostly intact. Finally, Hamemrstrike grabbed his sword again and went for another attack, only to be caught off guard as a wave of power rippled through the tower. He felt a strange surge as more power flooded into his link with Ainz.
Before he could use this new power, however, his opponent made a rapid gesture with his hand before reaching out to touch Hammer Strike’s forehead. Hammer Strike sliced, but even as the vampire's hoof fell to the floor, the mirror Hammer Strike had been maneuvered in front of glowed blood-red. Suddenly, chains of fire lashed out, pulling him with a strength beyond even his measure, until he vanished into the mirror’s surface. The backlash from the spell caused a shockwave that shattered all the remaining mirrors that were intact, including the one Hammer Strike had just entered.
Hammer Strike groaned to himself as he blinked to regain his vision. He rubbed at his eyes with his hand. And that’s when the red flags flared. His eyes flashed open to be greeted by appendages he had not beheld in many a year. A hand, a legitimate human hand hovered in the air before him. Its five fingers wiggled at his command. Five minutes ago, he had been using a hoof. He scanned himself quickly, only to note he was still wearing most of his equipment. The only difference was it had somehow adjusted to suit his current form.
When the bewilderment finally passed, he snapped to the next most important thing, his surroundings. He looked around and soon discovered that he was standing in a line with several other … bipedal beings in front of him. An assortment of chairs and counters were scattered around the line. He leaned out of line to peer ahead, where a large central desk sat laden with computer monitors and many a creature processing the line. Filing cabinets sat behind them with an assortment of paper sticking out of certain portions.
Reaching into his pockets, he ensured everything was in its place before he pulled out a small ticket labeled with the number 243. Looking back to the center counters, he finally located a Now Serving sign.
“Hell would like to remind everyone that you will be served in the appropriate order. Thank you!” an automated female voice spoke from unseen speakers.
Hammer Strike groaned to himself as he tapped his foot. While he normally would work against everything in his way, he had a gut feeling that Hell may or may not take kindly to that.
Over the next four hours, the same message replayed somewhere in the ballpark of six hundred times. Hammer Strike had lost count by that time. The line had moved up one person in this time. From posted signs and such, Hammer Strike could see he wasn’t even really in Hell yet, just being processed before being taken there. Most of the beings around him seemed unable to really notice him as they stood waiting in perpetuity for their turn to reach the front.
Just as Hammer Strike was considering his available inventory and whether his augments would allow a lobotomy via a soup spoon, he received a tap on his shoulder from outside the line.
He turned to find a humanoid obviously female figure standing before him. She was pretty much human, save for a few obvious things: milky white skin, curved horns, wings, large claws, and a thin spaded tail that whipped around behind her like an annoyed feline. She had an almost ridiculous hourglass figure hidden behind a black women’s blazer and a matching short skirt. Her vivid green hair was tied in a bun, and she wore half-moon glasses.
“Excuse me, you’re number two hundred and forty-three?” she asked in a surprisingly no-nonsense voice for a succubus.
Hammer Strike reached into his coat and pulled out the ticket once again. “Yeah, that sounds about right.”
“It appears there has been a mistake on our records, I need to confirm something quickly. Did you or did you not die a mortal death after A: living a life heavily involved in sin or B: having sold your immortal soul?”
“Don’t really recall dying as the thing.” Hammer Strike hummed as he thought on it. “I was dealing with an Elder Vampire, dealt with a blast of magic, I fell through something. Next thing I know, I was standing in this line.”
“No infections? Fatal or mortal wounds? STDs?”
“Negative, though the mortal wounds is a problematic yes and no.” Hammer Strike gave a shrug.
She unclipped the flaming spiked chains that formed the barrier of the line and held it open. “If you could come with me, please?” It wasn’t really a request.
Hammer Strike shrugged again before exiting the line to follow. “Sure.”
She nodded before clipping the line shut again and leading him through the maze of other lines into a hallway that stretched toward unseen offices. “We run a very tight ship here in Hell. We deal in judging damned souls and assigning them the appropriate layer. Our policies are very strict about such things, and everyone down here needs to deserve to be down here or down here of their own free will. Naturally, you can see why your presence here represents a problem.”
“That I can.” Hammer Strike sighed. “Sadly, based off the nature of here, I couldn’t just … return. Is it safe to assume I should just follow the process to get it all figured out?”
“A bit of free advice, and believe me it will probably be the only free advice you’ll get down here. Be careful to find out everything the process does and does not entail. Don’t sign anything until you have read it in triplicate, and then thrice more with whatever magic you possess that might reveal secrets. Assume everybody here is going to try to cheat you. You’re an untethered soul in Hell, and many would want to take advantage of that,” the succubus offered as they approached the door at the end of the hallway. “We’re about to meet with the supervisor of this area. Are you prepared?”
“Trust me, I can be paranoid,” Hammer Strike replied before nodding. “And yeah, as ready as I can be.”
The door opened to reveal a large nicely furnished office. The central feature was a large desk formed entirely of purple heart. The floor was carpeted. Overall, the room was both professional and luxurious. Behind the desk, in almost a mockery of a business suit, sat a large spider-like being. His body was covered in chitinous plating over a bloated body. His suit was a black blazer with a red vest studded by gold buttons. A white shirt peeked out from beneath it. His equally bloated bald head had five eyes. One central, two more where you’d expect, and another two beyond that. His large toothy mouth was currently shouting through a cell phone.
“Look, Errementari, the deal was we get his soul as long as he survived to see his wife again. I don’t care if his wife thought he was dead and ended up marrying someone else. That’s not in the confines of the deal! Now you go back to that blacksmith and you get what we are owed!” He hung up with a growl. “Incompetence.”
He took a minute to straighten himself up before looking to them. “Ah, yes. Thank you, Florence!” He gestured toward a pair of chairs in front of his desk. “Mr. Strike, thank you for cooperating. Please, have a seat. Do you need anything? I’d offer you coffee, but…” Both he and Florence shuddered. “Best not have the coffee.”
Hammer Strike shook his head. “Only thing I could use would be a way back home. Thank you for the offer.”
“Yes … sending you home.” He cleared his throat as he looked through the paperwork, picked out a form, and handed it to florence. “Florence, if you could send that out,” he said, checking his paperwork again. Then he turned his full attention on the man. “Now, about sending you home. In normal circumstances we’d simply send you back through the door you came. Unfortunately, the door you were sent through has been destroyed.”
“Of course it was.” Hammer Strike sighed. “Alternative methods?”
“There are none. I'm embarrassed to say that your situation is quite unprecedented in our records. I don’t have the authority to send you back,” he admitted. “Almost no one does.”
“Almost indicates there’s someone.” Hammer Strike raised a brow.
“I manage sorting the souls that are judged to come our way. If they lived a life of sin, I send them to the hell that best atones for their sin. If they sold their soul, I send them to the person who bought it. If they sold their soul but dispute it, I send them to Minauros and they become Belial's problem. If they’re starry-eyed adventurers thinking they’ll make a name for themselves, I alert the media to keep an eye on them. But you, there is no precedent, no procedure, no laws defining how I deal with you. The only option I can give you is you should speak with Asmodeus himself.”
“... And where would he be located?”
The devil sighed and pulled out a piece of parchment with a map appearing like a mountain in reverse. He tapped a slot slightly above the first layer. “This is where we are.” His claws moved down all the way to the lowest point. “That's where Asmodeus rules from.”
“Delightful.” Hammer Strike sighed. “I guess … point me in the right direction, and I’ll get going.”
“Well, for starters, you’ll be happy to know Asmodeus has become aware of your situation and has issued you a writ to pass through the borders without issue. We can’t guarantee safe passage, but we can at least make the passage easier for you. We’ll pay for your ticket across styx, and you can catch the bus from there, which should get you to your destination.”
“That’ll prove useful.”
“Is there any more I can do for you?”
Hammer Strike shook his head. “No, that should about do it.”
“Well, then, Florence will see you out. You’ll find the path to Charon’s ferry is pretty straightforward.” The devil handed Hammer Strike a small ticket and a piece of parchment written in a language his augments couldn’t translate.”
The journey to the doors was simple with the succubus as his escort. Many on the line glared at him, but he paid them no mind. He had what he came for. The journey to the river Styx was simple. It seemed many a hopeless soul had sought oblivion in its waters over the years. He simply strode to where the sound of flowing water was strongest. As it turned out, the river flowed directly through the city itself, dividing it and the plane in which it resided into two. The line at the dock, unfortunately, proved as long as the line he had stumbled into at the start of this journey. Many clutched at coins, subway tokens, and other metal trinkets. Payment for the boatman. So, the legend was true, after all.
In due course, a massive barge meandered down the river’s course, until it settled silently against the pier and lowered a gangplank. Its structure was woven from elder wood and painted an ashen gray. A dark pall wrapped around the deck like a funeral shroud while skulls grinned and grimaced along the sides of the vessel. The line became rowdy as souls rushed the boat. Some passed. Others fell into the water. And others still were rejected by an invisible barrier that they howled against as they pounded with their fists. Eventually, the procession settled into order, and a collection bowl was raised beside the gangplank for the offerings.
When Hammer Strike finally passed through the boundary, the ship suddenly changed. Its surface was a pristine white. The skulls had become mounted shields. The miasma was now a mist that smelled of Rarity’s perfume. A tall skeletal figure with a dark robe peered at Hammer Strike with glowing eyes.
“So,” he said in an apocryphal voice, “you’re the VIP.”
“I guess?” Hammer Strike shrugged.
“Don’t get much of your kind down here often. Hope you don’t mind the wait. Your stop will have to come after I drop these others off.”
“That’s fine.”
The figure nodded. “Something about your soul is different than most I see. Make sure you keep it safe.” With that said, he strode slowly to the back of the ship, where the rudder awaited his hand. The clatter of bones rattled with every step. The mournful wails of those who were left behind carried in the air and followed along the slow-moving waters. Without a sun or stars, it was difficult to gauge the time properly, so Hammer Strike waited as instructed and watched. Some of the passengers were exultant as they departed the barge. Others wept openly as they strode toward their new devilish owners. At long last, they arrived at a deserted port on the outskirts of the city. A winding road stretched far into the distance, and a tall metal bus sign stood out next to the shelter where passengers were asked to wait.
“And here we are,” Charon announced. “By the way, thanks for the pay.” His bony face grinned as he laughed. “It’s not often I get to scalp a demon.”
“I suppose it would make things entertaining.” Hammer Strike chuckled as he departed.
He sighed to himself as he walked over to the bus stop, then frowned as he scanned it, only to notice a reference page for arrival and departure times. Based off the current schedule, it was due to arrive in….
Thirty-two hours.
“You know what? Screw it. I’m walking.” Hammer Strike groaned as he thought back to the map he was presented with and departed.
The area before him consisted of vast ashen planes with small foothills and mountains in the distance. Boulders and other rocks dotting the landscape showed the faces of tormented souls screaming in agony. The area was suffused with a harsh red light, and fireballs of immense size would fall randomly around him.
As he walked, occasionally imps skittered around him, performing various deeds and actions. He, for the most part, ignored the ones offering him deals and trampled the violent ones underfoot.
As he moved forward he noticed larger stronger devils becoming more prominent. Soon, he crested a hill to see an army of them charging an army of creatures that seemed to be their equals, only twisted and misshapen. The eternal melee played out constantly, with more devils appearing to replace the fallen and more demons charging out of a large gaping rift.
Hammer Strike sighed as he looked out. “Note to self. Make a recall-from-hell precaution.”
Above the battlefield, a figure flew with wings of fire. She had brownish-yellow skin with a tattered purple garment covering her. Three horns curved viciously over her head. Currently, she was raining down flaming spears on the combatants below. Some few of the opposing forces managed to take to the air, but were swiftly put down by the battle fury as she raged across the ravaged landscape.
Unfortunately, Hammer Strike didn’t have much more time to take in the sight as a massive hand tipped with razor claws raked at him from the side. He leaped out of the way and delivered a powerful uppercut that sent the creature flying into what equated to hell’s stratosphere. Dark shadows rippled at his feet as more of the sneakier creatures from the fray below emerged from the ground to seek the prize of a powerful free spirit. To consume that would surely grant them great power, power to ascend, power to contend with their enemies, power to rival even the great devils of hell!
Until reality crushed them under its boot. Or rather, Hammer Strike did.
They didn’t live to regret their mistakes.
As the waves increased in size, the army began to divide between those who sought to maintain their mission and those who were going after their own agenda. This provided an opening for the devils to take advantage. They pressed the half that hadn’t broken away and proceeded to slaughter them while the other demons cried in agony under the sudden towers of intense blue flame Hammer Strike had conjured to consume them.
A booming laughter carried over the field of battle as flaring red and orange joined the blues to devastate the remaining forces. Then a wall of flames rose around Hammer Strike as the devil from earlier descended and folded her arms to take in the sight of the man.
“Now that’s what I call soul power!” She grinned, baring sharpened teeth, then bellowed a laugh again. “So, what brings you to the heart of war, human? Come to challenge me to a fight?”
“Not really.” He sighed. “I was brought down here by force, and am trying to find Asmodeus.”
She casually threw a spear to skewer four demons in one go. “Likely story.” She twirled a spear in one hand and seized a flaming sword in the other, then grinned. “Let’s see you prove it.”
“Of course.” Hammer Strike sighed again as he unsheathed his greatsword.
She started off with her spear, using it to probe for any sign of weakness in his defense. The steel rang and hissed angrily against the unholy magics, easily cutting through the shaft. The flames died immediately, and the devil hissed. “A divine weapon?”
“Was fighting an Elder Vampire. They’re all I’ve got.” Hammer Strike shrugged.
Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Those wouldn’t have come with you if you died. How did you come into my battlefield?”
“By boat,” Hammer Strike replied simply. “Besides that, I was kind of forced into Hell while alive.”
She rolled her eyes. “No wonder the demons broke ranks. Anyone who gets your soul could feast themselves for centuries. Let me guess, Asmodeus already gave you his go-ahead?”
“Apparently.” Hammer Strike shrugged.
The devil rolled her eyes. “You should’ve waited for the bus.”
“Not patient enough for that.” He shook his head.
She smirked. “Well, at least that’ll give Asmodeus a headache. He’s a real stickler for rules. You deviating from the path he set will either vex him or intrigue him. Maybe both, if you’re lucky.” She pointed toward a large hill. “Your way forward lies there. A cave system will link you to the next circle of hell. I’m sure a man of your unique gifts should be able to find the way easily.”
“Appreciated,” Hammer Strike replied with a wave as he set off.
The devil rose back into the air. “You watch yourself, human. There are those whose greed may exceed their fear of Asmodeus.” And then she was gone, crowing over the battlefield as whole swaths of demons fell before her wrath.
“Sounds about right.” Hammer Strike sighed.
Hammer Strike looked out upon Dis, a large sprawling city in every direction made of red-hot iron and burning cobblestone, bordered entirely by spiked mountains. From his vantage point near the gate, he had a good view of the hustle and bustle of various creatures moving about beneath him.
No matter which direction he walked, the city never seemed to get any closer. The mountain continued to drop lower into the valley, but he would never reach the walls or the gate. Finally, he came across a path of smooth cracked surfaces with veins of yellow running through them. The ridges on their fronts or sides carried a strangely uniform quality. On closer inspection, he was able to unearth one of the stones to reveal a heavily clotted and singed human skull. Ash sifted from its gaping jaw, and what sounded like a scream of agony faded into silence.
So, now that he understood the nature of what lay before him, he shoved the skull back into the ground and started along the path in question. If this was anything like Wizard of Oz logic, it was very likely this road would be the only means to approach and enter the city. He was soon proven right when the walls finally drew near.
And suddenly were gone.
Instead, black smoke furled around his feet and filtered through the air as a heavy smog. Buildings and stones twisted and hissed as burning flesh touched and victims screamed, whimpered, or struggled to retain some small sense of pride against the onslaught of torture that was slowly being burned and cooked in their own skins. The majority of the screams, however, emanated from vents that seemed to be thrown everywhere in the city, on walls and streets alike.
A great jutting iron tower pierced through the haze and into the artificial skies above. It looked almost as though it could pierce into the war above, and indeed, perhaps it did. It could well have been linked to the portal if any souls were corrupted enough to become demons in the first place and seek conquest. But that was not Hammer Strike’s affair to ponder. He needed to find whoever was in charge, so he could get directions to the next circle.
In his journey toward the tower, he encountered many iron statues. Some were rusting. Others were melting to slag. Others still burned red as he passed them. Many figures flickered in and out of the corners of his vision. It was obvious he was being observed. The question was by whom. At last, he came to the entrance. The door was perfectly divided into two parts, each painted a different color: one red and one blue.
Hammer Strike frowned before shrugging to himself and moving toward the blue side.
Inside, he was greeted by two immense blue-skinned pit fiends, large dragon like devils. Each held a great sword single-handed and crossed them in front of him.
“Who are you?”
“Hammer Strike,” he replied simply. “Looking for the one who runs this place, so I can continue on my way.”
“No one sees Lord Dispater without an invitation.”
“No idea if Asmodeus sent word.” Hammer Strike sighed. “I’ve got a meeting with him, so in turn, I need to talk with your lord to get on my way to him.”
“Do you have proof?”
Hammer Strike reached into his coat to pull out the writ he was given earlier. “That good enough?”
One of the pit fiends took it and read it before showing his counterpart. They spoke rapidly in infernal, which Hammer Strike’s augments seemed unable to translate on any level. After several moments, the pit fiend handed the paper back. “Head up the stairs to the top. Don’t move too fast or too slow. Don’t look around. No sudden movements.”
Hammer Strike simply nodded and continued on his way.
The stairwell around the building was lined with doors on either side as he continued to ascend. He had no doubt they were bespelled in some way either for swift travel or to open into a magical dimension in space for storage that turned this tower into a proper fortress. The very stones seemed to thrum with energy as he tromped up the stone steps one leg at a time.
The occasional spurt of hellfire was complemented by darts, saw blades, pitfalls, vats of holy water, spike traps, and many other traps besides. Naturally, none of these fazed Hammer Strike. The hellfire had no power over him, because he felt no guilt in his actions. The holy water had no power over him, because he was still alive and had no infernal aspects within his thaumic makeup.
However, by the time he reached the two-hundredth floor, he was starting to smell a rat. Somebody was either putting him through a loop or expanding the tower. And Hammer Strike wasn’t going to stand for it anymore.
Hammer Strike sighed audibly as he started to scan his environment thaumically to figure out what was going on. The entanglement of enchantments was most intriguing. The tower was being forced to grow organically, being fed by the demonic power that corrupted victims and changed their aspects to reflect the desired material. It wasn’t quite thaumaturgy, more of an advanced form of alchemy blended with magic. The doors each did lead to a unique torture or trap for the uninitiated, while disarming mechanisms were included for those who had clearance. Lastly, he sensed a group of waystones designed to maintain a spacial loop that would warp a climber seamlessly back down without any fuss or notice of a change. Very subtle, and very annoying.
That wouldn’t do.
He frowned as he began forming the equivalent of a spatial lock on his position, making it unchangeable apart from his own will. When he arrived at the point of infinite return again, he pressed onward. For the briefest of moments, he felt a tingling over his body, like he’d brushed against some form of fabric. It didn’t take long for the sensation to fade, however, and six sharp detonations echoed up the stairs as the waystones broke. Now was the time to move forward. And this time, he wouldn’t take no for an answer.
At long last, Hammer Strike emerged into a great hall. A long red carpet led to a great throne, where a tall humanoid figure with a black beard and moustache and a bald head stared at the intruder. A large rod woven with precious metals and wood fibers in equal layers lay in his hand. He had two separate types of hooves, one whole and one cloven. A barbed tail rested casually behind him. Flowing red robes draped his frame as cool calculating eyes measured the intruder. Two black horns curved upward from his skull.
“Are you the lord of this floor?” Hammer Strike asked flatly.
“Would you believe me if I said I were?” he asked in a dead tone. “What is it this time, some wronged love, death of a significant other, winning the soul of another back from their contract?” He leaned back on the throne and curved one leg over the other. “How droll.”
“Dude, I’m just trying to get to the next floor of hell.” Hammer Strike sighed. “I’ve got a meeting with Asmodeus to get to, and I barely have a map to work with.”
He raised a curious brow. “So, you’re the anomaly. That explains a great deal about why you were able to pass my defenses.” He rose and flicked a hand. The iron shrieked as an old corroded set of double doors gradually emerged with painful squeals and whimpers. The white and red splotches and blooms of corrosion were clearly evident. “Do be careful as you step through. I prefer to keep my floors untarnished.”
A horrid stench filtered through as the door quite literally cracked open and a rain of shards fell onto the carpet. Dispater sighed regretfully at the sight, even as Hammer Strike stepped with purpose into the unknown.
As Hammer Strike passed through and the door closed behind him, he noted a change in posture. Looking down at himself, he realized he was back to his Pony form again. Shaking his head, he adapted and pushed on toward his next destination.
Before him lay a seemingly endless swampland, dark and damp as far as he could see, with the smell of decay, pollution, and numerous other unpleasant odors. Heavy winds billowed across the area in every direction, carrying hail and acid rain. Through the fog, he could make out cities of obsidian in the distance. The loud clank of chains drew his attention to the skies, where a large jagged mass hung from the bottom of the second layer. His path was clear. If he was going to get to the next layer, he needed to reach the ruler of this layer in hell. With that goal in mind, he drew near the swamp and took his first step.
One thing he was thankful for was his ability to thaumically keep anything from attaching to him or his coat. The visual signs of decay along the shore mingled with the residue made it only too clear that a corrosive material had been hard at work. The bog was tepid as he began his trek through the mud and reeds.
In due course, he came across a motley crew of humans guarded by a few barbed devils that towered above the group and leered at the men and women who struggled against the bog’s corrosive properties. Their chortles were a curious mixture of the phlegmy burble of a swamp and the raspy scratch of nails on a chalkboard.
Hammer Strike scanned over the group before shaking his head. He’d find someone else to question. The group was soon bypassed, leaving Hammer Strike to wander toward one of the many jutting settlements. His thaumic gifts saved him from nasty pitfalls and other tricks the plane tried to pull on him, and the rapid changes in temperature from hot to cold and anywhere between offered a certain amount of variety to break up the monotony of his journey.
Eventually, a cloud of what looked like birds began to form in the distance. What started as a few stray figures multiplied into many shadows that soared together with gleeful cackles. Their skins were a sickly purple accented by bloody red. Spines jutted out from multiple angles as they began to circle above him with their open maws grinning to bare sharpened teeth.
Then, they attacked. Razor spines whizzed in a hailstorm of fire and poison. Some crowed exultantly. Others jeered at their supposed victim.
“Dance, little Pony. Dance!”
Some wielded tridents or spears, which made sense, given their lack of musculature. These creatures were definitely designed for distance combat, and had likely adapted their society accordingly.
Hammer Strike sighed as he thought over his options. After a second, he reached into his coat and pulled out one of the more crude throwing knives that he had on him. He shrugged. “You’ll do.”
Building up power in his legs, Hammer Strike shot himself off the ground toward the first of them, sinking the knife into the creature’s throat. He grabbed the top of it’s spear and snapped it off, turned in midair, and hurled the spear head as hard as he could at another, impaling it before it had a chance to move. He landed with a thud and caught the creature’s trident coming down. Breaking the head off, he sent the haft at one and threw the trident spinning at another, impaling both. The remaining devils turned tail and flew away as fast as they could.
Hammer Strike sighed as he brushed off his coat and continued on his path. He didn’t have time to delay. The mire became thicker over time, and the mud seemed to want to swallow him whole as he pulled his legs out again and again. Loud pops were soon followed by groans and muffled moans.
“Sister, sister, what do you think this creature is doing?” a girl’s voice asked.
“Rem, Rem, it appears to be disturbing the spawning pit,” a second voice replied.
“Shall we deal with it?”
“It is what would be expected of us.”
The clink of a heavy chain followed by the heavy splat of something metal striking the semi-solid surface of the bog rang through the air, followed shortly by the whistle of wind.
The chains clattered, and Hammer Strike’s ears flicked as a massive mace ball complete with giant metal spikes flew toward him. He didn’t even flinch as he raised a hoof and caught the weapon, points and all, against his horseshoes. The familiar whistle of a silent blade passed his ear as the collar of his coat tore. He then proceeded to pull the ball with all his strength, even as the amalgamation of faces continued to break and coalesce in the agitation. The figure who emerged was not what he expected. Rather than the ugly figures that had been so prominent with previous entities on his journey, this devil bore a flawless pale complexion. Her blue mane had been fashioned in a bowl cut, and her equally blue eyes glowed as she drew toward the Pony. Rather than register alarm, she twisted her body so her legs would strike first. The chain circled around her maid’s uniform at her whim before a deft flick of the wrist snapped it toward Hammer Strike’s face.
Hammer Strike sighed as he side-stepped his opponent. “Do we really have to do this? I’m trying to get to a meeting.”
“All intruders in our lord’s spawning pits are to be dealt with,” the mare replied as she crouched and braced herself in a combative stance.
Hammer Strike sighed and casually side-stepped another invisible blade that sliced a forming face in half. In response, a far more concentrated gale began to funnel around him. He sighed and raised a hoof. The wind slowly died down as a crystal began to grow, hovering above his free forehoof. “Like I said before. Do we really have to do this? I’m just looking for directions.”
The blue one leaped back, still holding the handle connected to her chain, and was soon joined by a doppelganger. This one had a pink mane and red eyes, but in all other ways, the two were identical, including in uniform.
“Sister, sister, I believe we may have to get serious.”
“Rem, Rem, I believe you are correct. This intruder is more dangerous than we anticipated.”
The two reared and met each other’s forehooves with their own as their eyes glowed and a shining horn emerged from each of their heads, one red and the other blue. The blue one’s face twisted into a manic grin as her eyes shrunk to pinpricks and she lunged forward at an aggressive speed augmented by the winds her sister generated from behind.
The resulting shockwave from the blow as it met the Pony was enough to drive the waters and the viscous slime away from the pair, leaving them temporarily on dry ground. Hammer Strike expertly blocked each strike as the blue devil’s blows became more erratic and easily telegraphed. Meanwhile, any attempts the pink one made to strike him were easily countered. The blades of wind literally broke before they touched him, and any other techniques she tried to utilize were easily countered.
“That’s enough!” Hammer Strike called out as he thaumically locked the two in place. “Who runs this level? I have no more time to waste on these altercations.”
The two siblings, or clones, or whatever they were struggled valiantly against the invisible bonds that held them in place. Rem sounded more like a wild animal as she snarled and growled, but otherwise remained where she stood.
“If you are looking for favors, he will provide, but only for so long,” the pink one said. She took a deep breath and sighed as her horn retracted. “Do you plan to kill us?”
“If I have to, I will,” Hammer Strike replied flatly. “I just want to get to this meeting and leave already. I’ve been here long enough as is.”
“You have an appointment with Mammon?” she asked in disbelief.
“If that’s the name of the lord running this level, then yeah.” Hammer Strike sighed. “I’ve got to get through each of these damned levels to get to Asmodeus, so I’d really appreciate it if you’d just direct me where I need to go.”
The surprise was enough to snap Rem out of her battle haze. “You’re going after Asmodeus, our king?”
“I’ve got a meeting with him, because I was forced down here into Hell.” Hammer Strike barely kept himself from growling it out. “So, in order to get back out, I’ve got to discuss these terms with him. Directly.”
The two stared at each other and blinked in unison. “Should we trust this stranger’s story, Ram?” the blue one asked.
“No ordinary mortal would have been able to best us, Rem.” The two nodded. “We will be happy to assist you in your quest. Assuming you let us go, we can deliver you to our master. He has high standing in the courts of Hell. He should be able to get you an audience with Mammon,” Ram said.
Hammer Strike sighed as he weighed the option in his head before releasing the two. He kept his guard up, however, just in case.
The two quickly dusted off their uniforms, then turned. “If you would kindly follow us, Sir,” Rem said.
“The spawning pits are not meant for mortals to tread through,” Ram finished.
“I’ve been making it here by walking. I’ll figure something out.” Hammer Strike sighed.
“We meant that we need to guide you out of them, Sir,” Rem clarified.
“It’s surprising that you were able to pass the barrier,” Ram agreed. “Most likely, your unique status with an invitation from our king was enough to overcome it.”
The three eventually cleared the quagmire where the residue of those souls that had been absorbed by the swamp were waiting to be reborn as lesser devils and passed onto relatively solid ground. It still squelched beneath their feet and hooves respectively, but at least they could travel without worrying about literal unearthly groans following them around.
Quite suddenly, a tall lanky figure stepped into their path, it looked like an Earth Pony, only he was taller than Hammer Strike himself. His fur was a simple gray with a long straight and deep black mane and tail. He wore a black trenchcoat over all of his visible body, and a lit cigarette hung limply in his mouth.
“There you are. I was getting worried.” He spoke in a very tepid tone as he stared at them with a tired gaze.
“Our sincerest apologies, Master,” Ram started.
“We found the intruder, but he overpowered us in combat. When we were finally defeated, he explained his purpose,” Rem continued.
“He seeks passage to the next level of Hell in a journey to obtain an audience with Asmodeus.”
The large Pony looked at Hammer Strike. His expression never changed, but he seemed to be examining him. “What’s someone like you doing down here?”
“Long story short, Elder Vampires don’t like to lose fights,” Hammer Strike explained bluntly.
“You fought an elder vampire?”
“Twice now, yes.”
“And he sent you to hell?”
“Yeah.” Hammer Strike sighed. “Nearly had him as well. Going to be another few months before we can track him down again.”
“Let me guess; you decided not to take the bus?”
“Way too long of a wait.”
“And you’ve been making your way through based solely on your personal sense of direction?”
“Partially, yeah.”
He sighed. “Rem, Ram, get ready. We’re going on a trip.”
“We already are ready, Master.” Rem said.
“Did you wish us to pack any supplies for the journey?” Ram asked.
“I suppose not, if you’re already ready.” He turned his attention back to Hammer Strike. “We’ll guide you to the ninth layer.”
“That’ll certainly prove useful,” Hammer Strike raised a brow. “To make it clear, you try to stab me in the back, and I’ll give you a fate worse than those down here.”
“If Asmodeus wants to see you, it would be far more beneficial to bring you to him, rather than try anything with you. I am not a duke. I don't involve myself with the petty politics.”
“Then we’ll get along just fine.”
The journey through Minauros was surprisingly smooth. None of the other devils dared to get in the way of the two servants and their lord. When they arrived at the mansion at the center of the city, an escort was already there to greet them. Mammon was just finishing running a servant through the belly when they entered the throne room. His long serpentine body and forked tongue were reminiscent of a naga or lamia. Spikes protruded from his arms and shoulders, while two long sharp horns protruded from his conical head. He contemplated the arrivals with cold yellow eyes and allowed the victim to be dragged away as he slithered onto his throne and rested a chin on his fist.
“Oh, it’s you, Lord. What did you want? I’m rather busy at the moment, in case you couldn’t tell.” He waved a hand dismissively, even as he eyed the Pony out of the corner of his eye.
“I have a living person from one of the material planes. Lord Asmodeus has asked to see him. I merely brought him here to get your approval to move onwards, as this is your realm.”
Mammon yawned. “What a bore. And here I thought you had come to give an offering.” He sighed. “But if it’s Asmodeus’ will, who am I to say no?” He rolled his eyes and waved a hand. An arch of flames rose from two burning braziers on the sides of his throne. The air wavered between, giving a warped view of the archdevil as he lay on his throne. “Go on. I’m certain Belial will only be too happy to meet you.”
“Your graciousness knows no bounds, Lord Mammon.” Lord gave a small bow and gestured toward the portal for Hammer Strike.
Hammer Strike simply gave a nod and continued on his way through the portal.
Rem and Ram followed suit, with lord giving one last bow before slipping through.
The land that greeted them was quite literally a world on fire in every sense of the term. The very air burst into random conflagrations that flew at anything that wasn’t a natural-born denizen of the plane. Rivers of lava flowed toward a sea that glowed as heat radiated. Geysers of flame shot from crags into the air, and other flames streamed like water.
“Much better,” Hammer Strike replied with a small nod.
Lord chuckled. “Not most mortals’ reaction to eternal fire.”
“To put it simply, fire and heat are one of the things I’m fine with.”
“Well, this is essentially the courthouse of hell,” Lord explained. The citadel at the center is where souls go to dispute unfair deals.”
“Delightful.” Hammer Strike sighed. “Lead the way.”
Lord led Hammer Strike toward the center as Rem and Ram guarded their flanks. As they approached the city over the fiery wasteland, they could see souls in chains followed by devils in a long line.
“As you can see,” Rem began.
“Petitioners are not given relief,” Ram continued.
“Until they prove their case,” Rem finished.
“At least Belial is fair,” Lord said. “His daughter, not so much.”
Hammer Strike hummed as he raised a brow.
“Belial is the actual duke of this hell, but some time ago, his daughter Fierna attempted a rebellion. She was partially successful, and Asmodeus decided they must share the rule.”
Hammer Strike hummed in thought. “That certainly must make things interesting.”
“His daughter wishes for the power, but not the duty.” Lord nodded.
“It is quite literally a love-hate relationship,” Rem said.
They pressed into the city, where a massive shiny black obsidian castle towered over everything else. A line of petitioners stretched from the domicile far into the distance and out of sight. The reek of brimstone mingled with the scent of roasting flesh and the occasional desperate scream of agony, either from a petitioner who didn’t receive a favorable ruling or perhaps from some poor soul being tortured. Those demons that sought to prevent their passing by the line were silenced by a glare from Lord.
Eventually, they entered a great chamber that was a mix between a throne room and a courtroom. A vast arching throne with jagged pinnacles sat atop a dais as a defendant made his case. However, what was most curious about this particular individual was the unique identifier of wings, horn, and a distinct lack of a mane.
Hammer Strike took a moment to compose himself. Hatred burned within his being as he noted the Alicorn, before it grew into an inferno when he realized exactly which Alicorn in particular this one had been, having “looked after” him during his time in the lab’s “care.”
A humanoid demoness with two small nubs of horns above her head sat on a throne before him. Her luscious hair flowed like oil on water as she looked at the Pony in utter boredom. It appeared that while the species may have been a novelty, she either refused to register that emotion or had been dealing with multiple Alicorns previously. A tall male with shining red eyes stood silently behind her. His dark hair was bound in braids that swayed behind him. His tight clothing revealed the lithe muscle beneath while still maintaining modesty.
“And so, it is quite clear that there must have been some form of mistake. I do not adhere to this system of theology. As such, my soul belongs on a separate plane and afterlife entirely. I wasn’t even allowed to face my gods’ judgement,” the scientist said.
Fierna, for that was the only person this could have been, looked down at the Pony with the dead face of one who is exceptionally bored. “Calamitous Wile, are you trying to tell me that you request a trial from your gods for the destiny of your soul?”
“I demand justice at their hooves. I am entitled to that, am I not?”
Fierna drew up her hand and flicked a long-nailed finger. A parchment materialized before her, and she peered over it casually. “By the records I have received, you have already been judged of your gods and found wanting in their sight.” She pursed her lips. Then her eyes widened, and she smiled for the first time. It was a thing that elicited terror, even as it highlighted her beauty. “My, my,” she purred. “Live dissection, deliberate crippling, amputation of limbs, infliction of brain damage, ritual sacrifice, and deliberately obstructing all potential for those you tortured to grow into a force that could rival your own. And those are only a few of the very long list of juicy sins you committed in your time on … Equis, is it?” She licked her lips. “Yes, you have been rather naughty, haven’t you?”
“I performed those actions for the betterment of society.”
“Of course, you did. But tell me, if your gods created your world and every race on it, what makes you think that they would love you any better than the others they made? Are you truly so very special? Are you really above every other creature that you have ever encountered in every single way?”
“Naturally. We pushed beyond the normal bounds of body, mind, and spirit. We surpassed our ancestors in every conceivable way.”
“Is that so?” Fierna raised a skeptical brow. “Then why is it that you deliberately sought to inflict pain on others who were clearly as sapient as you? They may not have spoken your language, but they could speak. They could use magic. They had their own societies and cultures. What gave you the right to break them away from their families and loved ones? What gave you the right to exploit them when you and yours had more than enough of what you needed to survive and even thrive on that island of yours?”
“It is our Faust-given right. We are the children of Faust. I am a child of Faust!”
“To think her children would wage war amongst themselves,” Hammer Strike muttered darkly as he watched the scene unfold.
“Wrong, my little Pony,” Fierna purred. “Oh, you were her child, for a time,” she conceded. “All of your species and races were, even the Gryphons you battled so zealously. But then again, you never did fight them yourself, did you? You simply tested your weapons on the subjects you had at hand. Any subject. Any number of Faust’s other creations, her other children.” She smirked. “The one saving grace you have is the fact that much of what you became in life is because of centuries of conditioning. That is the reason why you were allowed this audience in the first place. I am nothing, if not impartial with my cases. Indeed, you may well have been allowed to exist in a form of limbo between the heavens and Hell, were it not for one irrefutable scenario that was carried out in the last fourteen years of your life.
Fierna unleashed a savage grin. “Tell me, Calamitous, do the words Group Eight, Subject Twenty mean anything to you?”
Calamitous and Hammer Strike both stiffened.
With the blow struck, she sheathed her teeth again. It was time to play a little more with her prey. “Yes, I thought they might. This unique ‘specimen,’ as you called him, displayed a level of intelligence vastly higher than that of his fellow Earth Ponies. Not only was he capable of advanced intelligence, but he also demonstrated the ability to comprehend and speak your language fluently. His strength overwhelmed your guards and even allowed him to endure countless surgeries and torture that would have broken any other of his species. His capability to harness magic was also formidable, according to the record of your life, with powers that you weren’t capable of understanding and had even gone so far as to begin researching, despite countless warnings against it by the very individual who knew that power best. For all intents and purposes, he was the equivalent of your species, a bridge of sorts.”
She allowed her words the time to sink in, then continued as she watched his face petrify into that familiar stony blankness all races seem to take when they know they are being ousted for bad behavior. “But you weren’t interested in that. No, you were concerned because of how this subject had been acquired. You were concerned what it meant for your precious empire. And most importantly, you were concerned because it demonstrated that these lesser children of Faust had the potential to learn a form of power that you and yours could not counter. And that infuriated you and your people most of all. Forbidden knowledge. Yet nothing could be forbidden to you. Nothing should be. And if you could not gain knowledge from the subject via the implants you placed within him, then you and your fellow scientists would go about it another way.”
“I had nothing to do with those experiments.”
“On the contrary, Calamitous Wile, you had everything to do with those experiments. It was your monitoring equipment that registered the energies that Pony exudes. It was your findings that prompted the arcane research branch of your scientists to tap into forces that not even demons are insane enough to touch. And it was you who, at their prodding, pushed your precious subject as far as he could be pushed in an attempt to better analyze his power and to break him so that he couldn’t use it in retribution against those who had abused him.”
She straightened and tapped her nails casually on the arms of her throne as Belial leaned in behind her and whispered into her ear. A wicked grin crossed her face, and Fierna laughed. “Oh, that is too rich!” She turned back to Wile, still smiling. “Tell me, Calamitous Wile, if you believe my judgement to be unfair, would you accept the ruling of another?”
Calamitous narrowed his gaze suspiciously. “From whom?”
“Why, another child of Faust, of course. One who most definitely has been ruled by the highest authority in hell not to belong here. And this court is bound to agree with that assessment. Would this not prove satisfactory to you, to be judged by one of your own who has already been deemed unfit to dwell here?”
“No strings attached?”
“None. The ruling will be theirs alone, and we will abide by it. Now choose, Calamitous. Will you accept my judgement or that or this substitute?”
Calamitous continued to regard her with suspicion, even as he made his decision. “Very well. I accept these terms.”
“Your acceptance is noted in the official records, and you, Calamitous Wile, are now bound to abide by the terms of this verbal contract as it has been offered to you.”
“Yes, yes. Now where is this Alicorn?”
“Your judge is already here.” She smiled as her voice rose to fill the chamber with ringing authority. “Hammer Strike, you are hereby summoned. Step forward and address your petitioner.”
“Of course,” Hammer Strike muttered, then sighed. “Right when I finally have that damned island behind me.” He took a deep breath and stepped forward. “Doctor,” he spat venomously.
The Alicorn’s breath caught momentarily. Then he turned his head resolutely to the side. “I believe the line starts back there,” he said as he motioned with a wing. “I can’t say I’m surprised to see you here, given the number of people you killed.”
“Oh, you misunderstand.” Hammer Strike shook his head. “Though I may have slaughtered you Alicorns without so much as a conscious thought toward it, I hold no guilt toward your downfall. I guess you could say I’m currently on a tour of Hell, not a resident.”
“Are you actually telling me that you survived?” The doctor gaped at the Earth Pony.
“And thrived, according to our records. That’s why Asmodeus is so keen on meeting him. Someone broke the rules by sending him to us,” Fierna said.
Calamitous scoffed and turned to address the archdevil. “Regardless of his state, I am still waiting for this arbiter. Where is he, or she?”
“You’ve already met,” Fierna said and motioned to the scarred Earth Pony. “This is Hammer Strike. But you would have known that, had you taken the time to learn his name when you were alive.”
“But you said—”
“That you would be judged by a child of Faust. And so you will be. Look upon your brother, Calamitous Wile, for he bears the blessing of Sleipnir and the gratitude of Faust and Bonnie.”
Hammer Strike frowned. “Please refrain from naming me anything familial to him. He was long since abandoned by the gods.”
“I make no promises, since I am bound by certain laws, but I will attempt to refrain from such speech. I have yielded the judgement to you.” She rose from the throne and motioned with a hand. “The seat is yours, as is the court.”
“Then I will keep it simple.” He directed his gaze to the Alicorn. “Guilty.”
“You don’t wish to cite evidence, confront him with his wrongdoings?”
“That would imply I wish to further waste time on him,” Hammer Strike replied flatly. “I have a town to run, two daughters, and a son to get back to. He’s not worth the effort. That, and you pretty much covered anything I would bring up.”
The Alicorn’s face flushed with fury. “You tricked me!” he roared.
“This is Hell. Did you really expect anything less? Even without his judgement, your appeal would have been denied. This was merely a bonus for a soul you wronged. I would offer him the chance to name and possibly even implement your punishment, but he has already inherently declined. As such, you are to be remanded into the custody of the archdevil whose plane best suits your sins, there to be punished for all eternity.”
The Alicorn’s horn began to glow before his chains and a sigil engraved on his chest flared in response. He cried out in pain as smoke rose off his fur. Seconds later, the last echoes of his wailing faded into silence as he was slowly consumed by an infernal magical seal to transport him to his ultimate destination.
“There will be many devils who wish to claim his soul,” Fierna noted calmly. “It may take a while, but he will get his punishment, and you can rest assured it will be terrible.”
Belial stepped forward. “I assume you’ve come to my daughter’s court for passage?” He nodded his acknowledgement to Hammer Strike’s escort. “Lord, it’s been a while.”
“It has, Lord Belial.” Lord gave a short bow. “I’ve taken it upon myself to guide our guest to Asmodeus.”
“A curiously thoughtful gesture, given your previous stance on neutrality.”
“Is it not better for all if the prince is kept happy?”
“That is true. None would dare to risk his wroth.”
“Then may we carry on?”
“Far be it for us to prevent you. Isn’t that right, daughter?”
“Naturally,” Fierna agreed. “You have the summons to meet him. We wouldn’t dare impede such a call.”
The two waved their hands and a patch of the obsidian gave way as jagged chunks of ice shattered the floor and rose to join into an archway of pure ice that steamed against the intense heat of the room.
“Stygia awaits,” Belial said.
“I bid you good fortune in your travels, Hammer Strike. I pity the devil that seeks to halt your passage,” Fierna finished.
Hammer Strike gave them both a nod before moving through the archway, followed shortly by Lord, Rem, and Ram.
The group of four crested the red cliff before them as they looked down upon Nessus. It had been a long journey through the remaining five layers of hell. They’d encountered many devils, and had to fight some and kill others. Hammer strike had gained renown as being the first mortal to break Mephistopholes’ jaw before the devil had allowed them to carry on into Nessus. This final plane was the home and court of Asmodeus, the farthest point downwards one could reach before falling into Gehenna. The area was basically a red barren wasteland full of craggy cliffs.
“Lord Asmodeus should be just ahead,” Lord said as they examined the area.
“Well, this took slightly less time than I anticipated.” Hammer Strike nodded to himself.
“Faster than the bus.” Lord shrugged.
“Glad to hear that.”
“Still surprised lord Mephistopheles let you go, after what you did.”
“Got in our way.” Hammer Strike shrugged. “Not my fault they didn’t get the memo.”
“You are the most interesting mortal I've ever met.”
“Well, I’ve got to make things interesting to anyone.” Hammer Strike shrugged.
Soon a fortress appeared in the distance and quickly grew closer, by the time they reached the gate. Hammer Strike found himself gazing upon the largest structure he’d ever laid eyes on. The walls stretched for what seemed an eternity in either direction, and the walls pushed back well beyond, into the horizon. Turrets, cannons, ballistae, catapults, and all manner of siege weaponry bristled from atop its walls and towers. The very structure seemed to undulate, its walls ever shifting into a different shape and function. The only constant was the color red that shone like rubies in the infernal light. The closer they drew to the structure, the taller the walls seemed to become while row upon row of devils bristled within, waiting to pounce on any uninvited guest that should seek entry.
“On behalf of lord Asmodeus, we demand entrance,” Lord shouted to the wall.
“Present your summons!” one of the devils hissed from the wall.
Hammer Strike sighed, reached into his coat, and fished out the provided documentation he had.
The letter glowed, then flew at the wall. Seconds later, the ponderous shifting surface solidified into a towering gate that creaked open to admit the visitors. A sleek devil in a shiny waistcoat bowed. “Welcome, welcome. We’ve been expecting you. Master Asmodeus is at his chambers. I have been instructed to bring you to him at once.”
“Hopefully, I made it here at a decent rate?” Hammer Strike asked as he drew near.
“You arrived far quicker than expected. The master is very much impressed.” The red-skinned devil smiled. “He will receive you in his throne room.”
Hammer Strike nodded. “Lead the way.”
The throne room was tastefully decorated in a large cavernous hall deep within the fortress. Magma flow and torchlight filled the space as a pale and trembling soul knelt before the throne. The longer it knelt there, the less corporeal it became, until it finally dissipated into pale wisps of ectoplasm and ether. Asmodeus sighed, then smiled as he beheld the party and servant. He rose to his feet and towered above the four at thirteen feet tall. His great red horns curved down around his head in a manner not unlike Ainz’s own style. His eyes burned a bloody red that flickered with an inner fire.
“And here you stand, far earlier than I anticipated.” His voice was smooth and rich as he approached Hammer Strike. “Were you really so very keen to reach me?”
“I’ve got a town to run, two daughters, and a son to get back to.” Hammer Strike rubbed the back of his neck. “They … are probably overly stressing about what happened for me to end up here.”
“Indeed. Unlike other souls that come here, your body is still intact. Most of the time, when this happens, we snare the intruders and claim them for our own, regardless. But you, you were not meant to be here. At least not yet.” Asmodeus stroked his chin thoughtfully. “Much though I hate to admit it, I owe you a favor for this inconvenience. Someone brought you here against your will and before your time.” He frowned. “I would like that person’s name, if you have it.”
“Apologies, but I haven’t been able to obtain that piece of information.” Hammer Strike frowned.
“A pity.” Asmodeus frowned. “I dislike those who break up the order in my kingdom.” He turned to the other three Ponies. “Lord, what are you doing on hooves?”
“I desired to return to my normal form for a while, my lord. If it displeases you, I will change it.”
“It makes no difference to me at this point. You assisted in escorting our guest safely to this plane. That is more deserving of reward than chastisement.” He glanced casually over Rem and Ram, then turned his gaze back to Hammer Strike. “Now, then, I believe you wished to return home. However, before I allow you to do so, I must ask that you make your request of me. I’ve just eaten, so I have greater strength at the moment. Tell me, Hammer Strike, what is it you desire?”
Hammer Strike blinked a few times. “Besides a way home?” He furrowed his brows. “Not much, really. I actually just recently made the thing I desired most.”
“Your anvil, I assume,” he said casually. “Then is there something else I can grant you?”
“Nothing that I can think of.”
Asmodeus frowned in thought. “Lord.”
“Yes, my prince?”
“As I recall, you were once a denizen of this Equis, correct?”
“Yes, my Lord Asmodeus.”
“Tell me, are the other archfiends still vying for your loyalty?”
“Of course.” Lord chuckled. “They mistakenly think I'd be a powerful pawn in their plots against you.”
“There is no doubt that you are powerful. And given this mysterious individual’s capacity to open gates into Hell, it seems there is only one gift I can grant Hammer Strike that would be most appropriate.” He drew himself up and smiled. “I’m taking you off the playing board, Lord. From this moment on, you are to serve Hammer Strike in the land of the living. That way, should this vampire succeed in pushing him back into Hell, you will be able to retrieve him. Entertaining though it was to have him throw the other lords off balance, it is an experience I would not have us repeat. There is order to be kept, after all.” His eyes flared as he gazed at Hammer Strike. “And we both know there are entities whose attention I would rather not have turned my way.”
“There is the question of my attendants, Lord Asmodeus,” Lord noted.
“Well, naturally, they’ll be going with you. Do you really think I’m going to risk Belial or any of the others getting ahold of such gifted fighters and spell casters? I placed them under your ownership for a reason, Lord.”
“Very well. If it is your will, and if Hammer Strike will accept it, then I will do this.”
Hammer Strike shrugged. “Well, I’ve got a lich and a vampire. Any additional assistance would be useful.”
“Then it’s settled.” Asmodeus clapped his hands and a series of loud screams carried up from deep under the stones. A fine red mist sifted up from the floor and gradually coalesced into a swirling portal that ignited into flame. “I believe your family is waiting for you. Let’s not keep them any longer.”
“Appreciated.” Hammer Strike gave a nod. “Hopefully, if there is another meeting, it’ll be on better terms,” he commented as he moved toward the portal.
Asmodeus chuckled. “I suppose with you, it may be possible, but if it’s after you die, I doubt we’ll meet directly. You already have the knowledge of the existence of gods. My domain is specifically for those who disbelieve. But, in the off chance you do happen down here, I may be willing to entertain for old time’s sake. Who knows? Perhaps you could become as influential as Lord.”
“I’d hope not,” he replied with a small smile. “I’d prefer just being a guest, rather than actively hunted … more so than I was here.”
“A pity. But that is your choice.” He shrugged. “Farewell, you four. And do send Ainz my regards.”
“Can do,” Hammer Strike replied as he passed through the portal. He shook his head and blinked his eyes a few times as he readjusted. A chill wind passed around him as he looked up, only to realize he was standing in the middle of Unity’s town square, surrounded by a number of citizens who all shared a look of concern.
Before he could make a comment, Lord, Rem, and Ram followed behind, appearing just behind him, giving the nearby civilians even more to ponder.
Hammer Strike opened his mouth to calm any potential worries, only for a gate of black fire to appear nearby, and Ainz to step out. His shoulders seemed to relax as he looked to Hammer Strike.
“You’re all right.” Ainz sounded genuinely relieved to see him, which said something, considering the lich’s normally emotionless tone.
“I mean, it was only a few days in Hell. Would have been faster if I didn’t have a few fights to deal with. That, and a court case.”
Ainz stared blankly at him for a few moments before he started laughing loudly. “Only you would say that,” he said.
“Also, Ainz, meet Lord, Rem, and Ram.” Hammer Strike gestured to each respectively. “Asmodeus insisted that he owed me, and I couldn’t think of anything at the time. Not to say they aren’t exceptionally skilled, mind you.”
“Actual devils?” Ainz looked at them. “Well, this will be interesting. Should I take them away before Anderson gets here?”
“Probably.” Hammer Strike frowned. After a moment, he looked toward the citizens around him, who appeared to be accepting the situation and going back to their business. “Also, how long until Clover, Celestia, Luna, and potentially Binding appear?”
And then Luna barreled into him. “Daddy!”
Hammer Strike offered a smile as he hugged Luna. “I see you’ve been keeping tabs as well.”
“You’ve been gone for days,” she said. “I was worried.”
“I’m sorry about that, but I did promise I would be back.”
“Don’t act like you expected this to happen!”
“I mean, I didn’t, but I did say I would be back,” he defended.
“You, sir, have some explaining to do,” Yharon said as he alighted on the ground, then promptly tackled him in a hug not unlike what Luna had just done.
Hammer Strike chuckled as he returned the hug. “It was just a tour of Hell.”
“You realize the nine hells are nigh-unheard of on Equis?” Clover asked as she approached him. “That's how rare it is for Ponies to go there.”
“Yeah, I figured that part out.”
“I have no idea how you made it back unscathed, but you’ve been gone for several days. Things have been … stressful.”
“I’m sorry for that.” Hammer Strike rubbed the back of his head.
“How are you doing?” Clover asked. “You seem uninjured, but such a realm can injure more than just the body.”
“I’m absolutely fine.” He gave a gentle smile. “Honestly, I actually got some closure.”
“Closure for what?” Celestia asked as she glided down to the street.
Hammer Strike looked to her before giving a soft sigh. “Surprising enough, that one doctor was there. The one who … ‘watched over’ me on the island.”
“You mean the one Mother hated?”
“I assume so.”
“Then good. That means we can have a celebratory dinner. And then Clover can figure out how to ground you.”
He gave a brief chuckle. “Not gonna happen this time.”
“Are you sure?” Celestia smirked. “We were all pretty worried. At the very least, you need to take a vacation to spend time with us at home.”
“That, I can manage.” He smiled. “After introductions are made.”
“Indeed. Your family aren’t the only ones who have been worried about you,” a familiar voice said. Harmony materialized next to him, and he smiled as he felt the familiar calming influence of his presence. “I sense a certain amount of closure. That is good. Will you tell me about it later?”
Hammer Strike chuckled. “Of course, Harmony,” he murmured lowly. “I think we all could use an update.”
She smiled softly. “I’m looking forward to it.”
“Remind me to build either a new room or building to have these meetings,” Hammer Strike commented as he looked out to everyone seated in his living room.
“Right, then, how about you introduce us to your new friends, Hammer Strike?” Hurricane asked.
Hammer Strike nodded. “Everyone, meet Lord, Rem, and Ram.” He gestured to the three next to him. “Devils from Hell who will now be working alongside us.”
“Curious. I assume they are bound in a contract already?” Binding asked.
“One made by Asmodeus, yeah.”
“If Hammer Strike trusts them, I don’t see any issue with it,” Hurricane said, then shrugged.
“If they were any danger to us, they’d be dealt with by now,” Ainz added.
“So then, now that you’re back, what’s the plan?” Clover asked.
Hammer Strike frowned. “I have to look into a tether system to secure all of us.”
“Secure us how?” Ainz asked.
“Secure us to this plane of existence. Though we’d be released, Asmodeus doesn’t appreciate the idea and potential of us being sent to Hell incorrectly.”
“So, you mean to tether all our troops involved in hunting monsters?” Hurricane asked.
“Correct. If our enemy has studied a method of reaching and moving individuals to Hell, I need a counter.”
“You may need a cure to vampirism while you’re at it, or at least an inoculation of sorts to protect those that fight with you,” Binding suggested.
“That as well.” He sighed.
“If I may hazaard a partial suggestion?” Lord offered.
Hammer Strike hummed as he looked over to Lord.
“I can’t say for the interim, but when you next fight this vampire, I could lock you two within a dimensional rift. They’d be unable to leave or force you to leave, though you two would be entirely alone.”
“That could work.” Hammer Strike nodded as he thought it over. “Unable to escape through any means….”
“For the both of you,” Lord pressed again.
“Could you draw him out again after the fight is over?” Hurricane asked.
“Yes, but I wouldn’t drop the spell until I know the fight is over.”
“Which is understandable.” Hammer Strike nodded. “Yeah, keep that at the ready for next time.”
“Are you sure you want to be locked out of help?” Clover asked.
“Let me be clear right now.” Hammer Strike’s gaze leveled on everyone. “The next time he’s found, I will be killing him, no matter what. I’m done limiting myself.”
“As to be expected,” Ainz said after a few moments of awkward silence.
“Why did you limit yourself the last few times you faced him, then?” Celestia asked in confusion. “Did you somehow underestimate him?”
“Partially,” Hammer Strike admitted. “But, that’s the thing, I don’t go all out. I can’t, honestly.”
“Sometimes, those in power must think about those around them. They can never really flex their muscles,” Ainz noted.
“And yet, now you will, because you’ll be in a place where you can without doing harm. Is that the gist of it?” Celestia asked.
“If the plan works, then yes,” Hammer Strike replied.
“Still, it seems you’ll need a more potent weapon,” Ainz noted.
“That greatsword I had worked pretty well, but I need to look into making it better.” Hammer Strike hummed. “The problem is, I have no idea where to begin on altering a weapon like that.”
“Is there someone you could ask?” Yharon suggested.
“Admittedly, no.”
“Would it help if you used some of my fire?”
“Sadly, no. These weapons are … very unique, to say the least.”
“Well, on to other problems for now,” Ainz spoke up. “The recent surge in vampire activity has begun stirring other creatures we’ll have to deal with.”
“Delightful.” Hammer Strike sighed. “Thankfully, the insignias I put on everything should work, for the most part, on them. Speaking of which, how is Tarefson managing?”
“He’s settled in, and I've been providing him with … necessary nourishment,” Ainz noted.
“Good. Once he’s completely stable, it might be an idea to send him out.”
“I'll let you know when he’s ready, then,” Ainz promised.
“Any additional concerns from anyone?” Hammer Strike questioned.
“Anderson,” Hurricane noted. “He’s very gentle with the people in the settlement, but the moment he even hears so much as a whiff of conversation about dark monsters of any kind, it’s like he’s a different person. How are we going to keep him in check when Tarefson integrates into the community?”
“I’m going to have to lay down some rules.” Hammer Strike sighed. “If he refuses to listen, he’ll have to be removed from Unity.”
“And the same goes for Tarefson?”
“Removed from existence,” Hammer Strike replied grimly.
“He’s bound by similar oaths to what I am,” Ainz explained. “Betrayal or disobedience is simply not a possibility.”
“Do you think that’ll be enough to soothe Anderson?”
“I don’t think it matters,” Ainz said. “Anderson would have to kill Hammer Strike to kill him. And even to kill him in a fight may not be possible by the time he’s fully recovered. He’s becoming something … different than even an elder vampire.”
“Deci Ridicati Dracula,” Lord laughed.
“Dracula?” Hammer Strike glanced to Lord.
“In other realms, a vampire is sometimes birthed with power far exceeding that of previous vampires, usually through a pact with a being of considerable power themselves. In Hell we labeled these vampires Dracula or ‘sons of the devil,’ since the vampiric trait originated in Hell.”
“Fair enough.” Hammer Strike nodded. “With that, if there is nothing more to discuss, then this meeting is complete.”
The humid air weighed heavily over New Unity as the Pegasi manipulated the clouds to water crops and help maintain aerial fortifications. With the last attack from the Pegasus Tribe, these warriors weren’t about to take any chances. And so it was that whilst performing an inspection of these new fortifications, Hurricane noticed the dull glint of tarnished metal and the waft of a bedraggled pink mane.
He also noticed how curiously pink the clouds seemed to become as this Pegasus passed through it. The figure was soon borne up by a pair of soldiers with makeshift bandages over their heads and sides. Others had their hooves wrapped, instead. The party that made itself manifest had to be at least a hundred strong. At least three quarters of them bore some form of injury.
“By the ancestors,” Hurricane swore. The commander leaped from the new cloudy battlements and dove to the ground beyond the town’s fortifications. “Pansy!”
The smaller mare smiled weakly as she leaned against her companions. “It’s good to see you again, Commander.”
“Easy there, soldier. Just what is the meaning of all this?”
“The tribe is fracturing, Sir.” She coughed. “The council made prison camps to house anypony that wanted to desert or dissent.” She motioned to the rest of their sorry band. “These were all we could get out.” She winced. “If it’s not too much trouble, Sir, there are an awful lot of us who aren’t in the best shape, and we’ve flown an awfully long way. Could you maybe provide us a few medical supplies? Oh, and maybe fetch Hammer Strike? I’m pretty sure we were probably followed, and there’s the matter of the invasion—”
“Invasion?”
“Sir, with all due respect, she’s bleeding out. Could you at least get somepony to look at her? One of us can fill you in on the details later,” the stallion at Pansy’s side said.
They heard a sigh as Hammer Strike strode toward their position on the wall. His Moonlight Greatsword lay across his back. “What’s going on this time?”
“Apparently, invasion and forced captivity, if my former private is to be believed,” Hurricane said. “And she’s never lied to me.” He frowned. “Can we at least treat the critically injured, Sir? I hate to see her like this.”
Hammer Strike glanced over the group before nodding. “See to it. I’ll alert the others.”
A triage unit was hastily dispatched. It didn’t take long to piece the story together. In an effort to stem the tide of desertion, the council had created a prison to hold would-be-rebels. Thanks to the efforts of various Ponies and Pansy’s own brave coordination, they had been able to break through a small portion of the prison’s cloud wall to provide an escape route. Regrettably, as a result, some had to take the force of the attack when the guards realized what was happening. And for perhaps one of the few times she ever would in her life, Pansy showed just how much of a warrior she was.
Given the nature of their flight, it was likely the Pegasi would move up their timetable. That meant Unity would need to brace for a second aerial assault. After he’d tended to Pansy and the other soldiers, Hurricane left for the barracks. If the Pegasi wanted to declare war, then they would have a war.
It was time the council saw just how large a mistake they made in cutting him off.
Unity was ablaze with activity as guardsmen and volunteer militia were rounded up and sorted into groups. Weapons were handed out according to group and what each group was capable of. The sections of the walls and gate were being soaked heavily to prevent them from being lit on fire. Crossbows were set up, and quarrels were counted and placed as needed.
Hammer Strike had set up several ballistae strategically along the wall. Trained groups were already prepping them for use. Ainz had been allowed to unleash his own troops under orders they were not to be seen inside the forest. Unseen by the Ponies, zombies, skeletons, wights, and ghouls patrolled the grounds outside the town, along with one vampire.
Near the gate, the available Unicorns with high enough casting potential had been taken and sorted into two groups. Binding was schooling his group on healing and beneficial spells. Clover, meanwhile....
“Remember. Keep your matrices tight. Pegasai are nigh-immune to lighting, so rely on fire or ice. No big showy works here. We need to preserve mana. Attack, check your surroundings, and move on. This is our home, and no one is going to take it from us. Keep your aim careful. We don’t want to attack one of our own out there. But if you fire that spell, then make sure you aim to kill. Those of you with staves, cover those without. And remember those are weapons at the end. Don’t forget to use them, if you have to.”
The noncombatants had once again been placed inside the church. Though the church at least was no longer solely cared for by two. Several Ponies of various tribes had dedicated themselves to the order after Hammer Strike’s miraculous return to them, and currently the initiates stood praying at the altar with Heinkel leading them. Whatever they were doing seemed to be working as the church was wreathed in a film of white light.
Above the town, the Gryphons and Pegasi had worked on their cloud fortress, reinforcing and compacting the cloud to the point it was thick enough that most Earth Ponies could walk on it without a cloudwalking spell. Arrow slots had been strategically placed, and already arrow heads could be seen waiting. The Gryphons had added barbs to their arrows, clearly prepared for maximum damage.
As Hammer Strike inspected the preparations, he found Poultice and an unnamed young stallion handing out small kits of random potions to the groups of defenders.
Hurricane saluted as he approached. “Things are working smoothly. We should have preparations done within the hour, at this rate.”
“Glad to hear it.” Hammer Strike hummed. “I’ll need someone to run out and quickly plant a few objects in the fields outside Unity. Preferably around four pegasi, quick ones.”
Hurricane turned around and gave a low whistle. In an instant, a small squad of Pegasi arrived and offered crisp salutes. Clearly, Hurricane had been working on discipline. “Take your pick.”
Hammer Strike pointed to four individuals. “You four will do. I need you to plant some objects around Unity’s perimeter.” He reached into his coat.
One of the four, a mare, stepped forward. “Lieutenant Blazing Fire, leader of the Thunderbolt Operations Unit. Whatever you need, Sir, we’ll get it done. What are we planting, and what do we need to know about them?”
Hammer Strike pulled out a small purple cylinder. “This is what you’ll be planting at Unity’s every corner, and halfway down each wall. I’ve spent years making prototypes, and I was able to complete it recently.”
“Any specific requirements?” she asked as she accepted the cylinder.
“I have the controller, and I can distribute additional ones to high ranking individuals. These are what I call gravity tunnels, an instrument I made to counter Pegasus flight, but it only works against those who aren’t part of Unity.” He pulled out the rest of the cylinders and placed them before each of the Pegasi.
“Consider it done.” Blazing Fire nodded as each of the others took a cylinder, then departed in a synchronised, almost graceful takeoff.
“That one is going places.” Hurricane chuckled. “Who knows? She might even get my job.” He ran a hoof over his mane, and Hammer Strike couldn’t help but notice a few threads of silver in the mix.
“Perhaps.” Hammer Strike gave him a soft smile. “But it’s going to be a while till that day. You’re too stubborn to quit, unless you actually have to.”
“Of course. Still best to prepare for the future. It’s not like it’ll wait for us.”
“Well, Commander, I’ve got some additional work that I need to complete before things kick off. See to any final preparations and get ready.”
“Will do. Ancestors know they’ll probably be here by tomorrow.” Hurricane did an about face and marched off.
Hammer Strike sighed to himself as he moved off the wall and towards his house. He had a guest he had to leave behind temporarily, but he needed to resolve that quickly.
“Strange,” Harmony’s ethereal voice echoed as she materialized next to the Pony and matched his pace.
Hammer Strike hummed questioningly as he glanced over to Harmony.
“Usually, when war or battle comes, my influence is weakened. And yet, I don’t feel that drain now. Despite the apprehension and fear that abounds, the people here have all come together with a common purpose.” She looked toward the church. “And a common faith.”
“It’s certainly interesting how everyone comes together.” He looked out with a small smile. “But that alone gives me faith in those fighting.”
“You give them something to fight for. They love you and what you’ve built here with them.”
“I’m glad to be leading them all.” Hammer Strike chuckled as he continued on his way.
Harmony smiled. “About time you admitted it.”
“Yeah, yeah.” He shook his head. “Come on; I’ve got a meeting to get to.”
A thestral mare stood outside Hammer Strike’s house. She had a grey coat with a blue mane and tail. Large golden eyes looked determinedly at him. She wore a black wolf pelt over her body with beads tied here and there among the fur. Her tomahawk was holstered at her side, and a spear laid on her back.
“Greetings, Grand Chieftain,” she offered when he got close.
“Glad to see you made it here safely.”
“Yes. I have come with as many warriors as we could spare.” She nodded. “Unity will not fall.”
“That’s appreciated,” Hammer Strike noted with some surprise. “Honestly, I didn’t anticipate this.”
“We couldn’t very well leave you without help.”
“Fair, but I meant more along the lines of the quick response.” Hammer Strike hummed. “The help will be greatly appreciated. I’ll just adjust plans for each of you as well. What are your numbers like?”
“We have nearly a hundred warriors,” she said. “There are more coming, but they are taking it slower, getting resources ready, should they be needed.”
Hammer Strike hummed as he thought things over. “All right, I’ll need your squads to help cover night shifts, keep watch over the skies and, if needed, engage in combat, should the attack come.”
“Very well. Should we talk to someone about placements?”
“Hurricane, the commander over Unity’s guard. He’s currently situated near the northern front, checking over the last sections.”
“She nodded. “Is there anything else?”
“That should be it. We’re glad to have additional forces.”
“Of course.” She bowed her head and was off.
Hammer Strike hummed to himself as he thought everything over before entering his home. “Celestia, Luna, Yharon,” he called out.
The trio were there as quickly as each could manage respectively. That meant Luna and Celestia teleported and Yharon flew.
“What is it, Father?” Celestia asked.
“With everything going on as it is, there are a limited amount of things I can do. As such, I want you three to report to your teachers and….” He took a breath. “If you can assist with this bout, it would be appreciated by everyone.”
“As in ask our teachers what we should do?” Yharon asked.
“Correct.”
“Any idea when the combat will start?” Luna asked.
“Potentially within the next twenty-four hours.”
Luna seemed almost giddy. Yharon looked nervously at Celestia, and she at him.
“Sis, you’re not going to put yourself in too much danger, right?” Yharon asked.
“Please, brother. I won't be in any danger at all.” Luna laughed.
Yharon frowned. “If you say so.”
“Before we jump into any combat, I think we should do what Father asked and go see our teachers,” Celestia said.
“Very well,” Luna huffed.
Hammer Strike looked at each of them. “Be sure to check in with them before it gets too late. I’ve got some preparations to finish, so I’ll be in my forge.”
“Yes, Sir,” they all replied, then filed out of the house.
A small squad of Pegasi trotted slowly to the gate under the banner of a flowing white flag. Each kept a close eye on their surroundings, ever alert for the potential of a surprise attack or worse. In due course, they arrived at the gates to Unity and knocked heavily at the doors.
“State your name and business.” Hurricane himself spoke from the gate.
“We’ve come on behalf of the council to negotiate terms.” The mare that stepped forward bore a harsh gaze that was magnified by her reddish-brown eyes. Her fur was key-lime-green, and her mane a bristling creamy white. “But you already knew that.”
“Unity will gratefully accept the Military Council’s surrender,” Hurricane called back. The wall had a short wave of chuckles at that.
“The council was referring to your surrender and that of the Earth Pony you serve.”
There was a glint a breath before a single barbed shaft nearly three feet long flew from above to bury itself a hair's breadth from the mare’s front left hoof.
“I’d suggest you refer to Hammer Strike by his proper name. The Gryphons can be very touchy about disrespect,” Hurricane spoke. “As for surrender, I think you need to return to military school, Lieutenant. The privilege of surrender is to be offered only by the party with the greatest chance of winning.”
“On that, we are agreed. Now, will you hear our terms, or am I to take this as a refusal to parley?”
“Here are the terms. Any who attack this place will die. Any who disagree with this farce the council is pushing should leave now. Leave, and no one will follow. But be assured any who stay will nourish this land with their blood. You are one tribe. We are many. We are led by a lord who cares for our wellbeing and refuses to let us tear ourselves asunder over petty differences. This is Unity, and Unity stands!”
Along the wall, the call echoed in one thunderous voice. “UNITY STANDS!”
Behind the wall, the call grew, crashing and thundering with its voice. “UNITY STANDS!”
And the town beyond, all over, every Pony let the call ring forth, the power spreading for all to hear. The white light suffusing the church exploded into a bright blaze. All around Unity, flowers sprouted and bloomed as vines crawled along the wall almost protectively. The air, the ground, and the very soul of magic itself rang with the power of this call.
“Very well, traitor,” the mare said resolutely as she turned from the wall. The delegation followed closely behind.
“Funny how perspective works. Ten years ago, you’d have been the traitor, and I the patriot,” he shouted after them.
The warriors on the battlements grinned as they congratulated one another and their commander on the sound verbal thrashing he had given. All the same, the gauntlet had been thrown, and all of them knew only too well the need to remain alert for any signs of attack. There was no peace that would come. Instead, it was time to go about the grim business of preparing to sow death.
The thunderheads that surrounded Unity rumbled threateningly as the winds began to pick up. The rain came first, followed by a chain of lightning that jumped from cloud to cloud. In a matter of seconds, that rain transitioned into hailstones six inches wide that pelted against the walls. However, few, if any, found targets, since the majority of Unity had been protected by the massive cloud fortress Hurricane had constructed with the Gryphons.
The storm clouds pushed against the walls as winds pressed in from all sides, prodding them toward the fortress. Arcs of electricity jumped toward its clouds, and they began to darken before a moist wind blew back against the assault, generated by the combined efforts of Pegasi and Gryphon. For a time, this effort seemed to work, until a greater gale shoved the clouds forward again. Soldiers flapped for all they were worth as Hurricane shouted.
“Hold the line!” he bellowed. “Hold!”
“We’re giving her all she’s got, Commander!” one of the Pegasi crowed back. “We can’t hold it back for much longer!”
“Just a little more!” he urged.
The storm clouds began to wedge in beneath the fortress, even as Pegasi formed beneath to try and push them back while the deadly payload rained down on the town. Rather than break through the houses, however, it bounced harmlessly off the glowing white aura that surrounded the buildings and collected in the streets.
And that was when it happened. The clop echoed through the air, louder than thunder, louder than an explosion. Its echo encompassed the whole of Unity and spread in a shockwave. The very air seemed to tremble. And suddenly, the onslaught stopped. The storm clouds blew back away from Unity with a terrible force. Their deadly payload continued to fall, heedless of the sudden yelps and cries that now arose as dull brass flickered in the lightning. The invading forces had effectively been neutralized, and now had little choice but to dodge and weave to escape the wrath of their own storm system.
Hurricane was swift to act. “I want teams set to direct these storms on every one of those soldiers. Drive them as far as you can before the systems die. They gave us their ammunition, and I’m not about to waste it.”
“Yes, Sir!” came a chorus of replies.
“Drive them off the path, if you can help it. We don’t want to have all the fun.” He chuckled grimly as the clouds departed and the Pegasi of Unity began to shepherd the invading forces. Needless to say, it wasn’t so much a retreat as a rout.
The Pegasi naturally attempted to find safety in the forest outside Unity. The tree cover did a great job reducing the toll from the heavy weather. As they fled beneath the boughs, none of the Pegasi seemed to notice the ground, the small piles of leaves and dirt that seemed to dot the area. None of them took notice of the eerie quiet either. Aside from the weather, there were neither birds nor animals around them.
It took a full fifteen minutes before the first Pegasus screamed as a skeletal hoof shot from the ground. Skeletal ponies, wights, ghouls, zombies and other types of undead shot from the soil and began to pull screaming struggling soldiers into the ground beneath their hooves. Their screams were soon muffled as dirt filled their mouths and lungs. A few minutes after the first vanished, he reappeared, clawing his way from his grave, bitten and covered in blood and scrapes. Only the blood didn’t flow. The eyes no longer shone with with intelligence or soul. It was just a body moving at the call of some unseen force. And he was not alone.
A certain green mare turned in wide-eyed astonishment as, one after the other, troops disappeared and emerged again with new purpose.
“Undead. Nopony said anything about the bloody undead!” She raced for the nearest tree and quickly scampered into its branches. “Everypony! Get to the trees. Get off the ground and fall back! Fall back!”
“You know, I've always wondered why Ponies think undead can’t climb trees,” a deep voice spoke directly behind her as something licked the back of her neck slowly. “Is that racist? Would you call that racism? Lifeism? Aliveism?”
A bloodcurdling shriek rose from the mare’s throat, only to be stifled by Tarefson’s hoof as he held it against her muzzle.
“Now, now. Wouldn’t want to let them know you’re up here.” The vampire laughed. “You’re that saucy piece of work who was here earlier demanding surrender.” With a single hoof, he lifted her off the bough where she had found purchase and slammed her against the tree trunk. “Well now, let me offer you my terms.” Tarefson’s red eyes gleamed as he saw that glimmer of hope in her eyes. “I’m going to bite into your jugular now. And then you will get the choice to surrender your existence to death immediately or in the roughly four to six seconds it will take for your brain to die from the lack of blood.” He smiled as his lips pulled back, revealing a muzzle filled with jagged, lethally-sharp teeth. These were not the surgical fangs the legends spoke of, but rather the teeth of a predator. “How’s that for surrender?”
Time slowed for a moment in which her mind realized it was going to die now, and all she could focus on was the unsettling red gleam of his eyes. Red as blood. And then it happened.
“OMNOMNOM!”
There was a sharp pain and a strange warm feeling across her chest, even as her body felt cold. And then the world went black.
Meanwhile, the remainder of the Pegasus army was flying in. The weather group had sent a messenger confirming the clouds were in place and had cited no other alerts. As such, the formations of Pegasi flew toward their target at a brisk pace.
Few witnessed it, but as the Pegasi crossed the border into Hammer Strike’s lands, the magic that supported them was instantly gone. And almost like hitting a wall, they began plummeting to the ground. Most were smart enough to break their fall by fanning their wings out enough to block some of the air. Many, however, had not been so wise, and the ground was covered in jumbles of armored, bruised, and bewildered Pegasi. Out of that number, half were too injured to continue their attack.
A score had even died, due to landing wrong on their own weapons or another’s. The officers, though, were on their hooves almost immediately, shouting out orders and getting the remaining troops that could still fight into formation. They gave speeches about honoring the fallen and not being stopped by the trickery of this Earth Pony. The wounded were told to make a forward operations base and await further orders.
All in all, the Pegasi continued on three score weaker then they’d entered. Even as they marched out of sight, those not too injured to work began setting up camp. Never once did they notice they were being watched by two hundred pairs of glowing slitted eyes hidden within the shadows of the trees. Sentries were posted, and then promptly dropped as darts coated liberally in several potent neurotoxins buried themselves into the backs of the soldiers’ necks. The watchpony was only made aware as a tomahawk head buried its way into the side of his throat. The camp only realized the attack when the blood began to flow.
As the pegasi crested a hill, they found themselves looking upon the fortified wood and stone walls of Unity. The wall was lined with Ponies of all tribes, many were armed with the strange contraptions they’d seen before. There were also several larger versions of the same seeming to be operated by crews using systems of cranks and pulleys. Waves of power seemed to coat the walls.
The surprise came when they saw the mass of cloud still drifting powerfully above the city. The glint of arrow shafts was clearly visible.
Above the gate stood the dark lord of the self-proclaimed Unity, clad in his coat of ursa fur and wielding a massive greatsword made of bone. He looked at them imposingly.
“Attention, Unity! This is your final warning! Surrender to our mercy or be destroyed!” their commander shouted. He opened his muzzle to continue, only for a massive barbed shaft to seemingly sprout from the back of his mouth. The force of the impact actually flipped him over backward and pinned him to the ground.
“To think, I had placed the Unicorns on a higher level of arrogance,” Hammer Strike called out casually.
A former lieutenant, now acting commander, only growled as she leveled a hoof at the town. “Charge!” she ordered. And with a thunderous gallop, the Pegasi surged. As they drew closer to the wall, arrows and bolts filled the air, raining death in timed waves. Grounded Pegasi died in droves. When the survivors reached the gate under the range of the crossbows, they’d lost a significant amount of their initial attack force. Yet before they truly reached the gate, several loud thuds were heard as Earth Ponies dropped from the wall, clad in platemail. They looked greedily at the charging soldiers.
Landing in front of the rest, Wall lifted his greatshield and broadsword and charged, bringing the shield down on the first soldiers to get in range. He brought the flat of his blade across the back of the second. Pegasi were made to resist high impacts, not crushing force; and both were rendered paste beneath the giant Earth Pony as the heavy knights engaged.
Hammer Strike landed moments later and charged ahead. The sword, which he had dubbed Astral Abyss, cleaved outward, rending all who dared stand before it. Metal, flesh, muscle, bone, and sinew all parted before its bite with minimal effort.
As the Earth Pony knights held the line, spells flew from the walls. Javelins of ice, spears of fire, and spikes of white-hot iron all bit into the enemy with force. When the sound to fall back was given, the Pegasi turned to find giant walls of ice and stone having formed at their backs. The Earth Ponies and Unicorns pressed onward. The Pegasi of Unity took to the air and fired down at their rear.
Within the hour, only a single Pegasus was still breathing, surrounded by the Earth Pony knights and Pegasi of Unity, as well as the corpses of his comrades. The knights parted as Hurricane and Hammer Strike approached him.
“Let’s turn things around a little, shall we?” Hammer Strike hummed as he drew near.
“Getting soft in your old age?” Hurricane asked.
“Well, I’d rather not let them go extinct now,” he replied simply.
“Hammer strike has decided to let you live.” Hurricane used the flat of his spear to raise the Pony’s head. “I suggest you listen to what he has to say to you.”
“Let’s keep this simple.” Hammer Strike directed his attention to the Pegasus. “You’re going to go back. I want you to return to your camp, your home, wherever you lot decided to station yourselves, and I want you to spread the word of what happened here. How I stripped you all of your flight without so much as touching you. How our army kicked your flanks from every direction. And most of all, how you all should keep to yourselves and stop bothering us.”
Hammer Strike moved closer to the stallion. “I want you to make sure none of you forget.” He gave a dark grin as his hoof was wreathed in fire before planting it on the stallion’s chest. His scream was short-lived as the pain finally stopped. Where Hammer Strike had placed his hoof, a scorched mark of Unity’s symbol had been seared into the flesh. “I want you all to never forget what happens when you pick fights with the sleeping ursa.”
Hurricane gestured to a pair of Pegasi. “You two dump him out near the trail. He can walk from there. The rest of you start digging a pit, so we can burn all these.” He gestured to the bodies. “No point in inviting disease.”
The work began without so much as an afterthought to the warrior-turned messenger. If there was one thing Hammer Strike had taught the people of Unity, it was the need to do the jobs that needed doing as soon as possible, and to do them efficiently. Earth Ponies brought out shovels to dig while Unicorns shifted the dirt piles and distributed them to avoid blocking traffic. The number of corpses was small enough that the requisite pit was dug within an hour. The bodies were then unceremoniously lifted and tossed into the mass grave with neither ceremony nor regret, save on the part of Hurricane. He alone shed two silent tears, one from each eye, then turned aside to address the troops who weren’t already engaged in labor.
“All right, everyone, let’s get to sending out the all clear. We have civilians to return to their homes.”
The casks in the storehouse flowed liberally as the residents of Unity cheered their victory. Not one soul had been lost. Loved ones would be able to return to each other. Foals could mingle with their role models and heroes. Gryphons could wrestle to show off while various Ponies struck up instruments to offer a chance for dancing, and perhaps something extra for the more amorously inclined.
Hammer Strike smiled as he watched the revelry unfold. “Better odds than most would assume.” He chuckled.
“It was a rout. The most disciplined army within the Pony lands just got routed by a slapdash militia. At least, that’s how they’ll see it,” Clover said, standing next to him with a glass of wine.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?”
“It will give the other nations pause,” Clover agreed. “Though I imagine the Unicorns will be harder.”
“I figured as much.” Hammer Strike nodded. “I’ll have to prototype some more devices for further nullification fields. Those gravity tunnels worked well beyond expectations.”
“You took away their major advantage. They didn’t even have siege equipment,” Clover noted. “They’d have never gotten past the gate as they were.”
“I might need your assistance in the next experiments.” He hummed. “In order to further its progress, I’d need help perfecting the location and lock on Unicorn magic, and then adapt it to our contracts.”
Clover took a sip from her wine. “It’s funny. Most of the time, magical contracts are used to inconvenience the one bound by them. You’ve pretty much figured out how to turn them into a weapon.”
“It grants me a useful marker for all those who are a part of Unity.” Hammer Strike smiled. “Lets me make targeted devices.”
“And that, in turn, allows yourself and others to finely target exclusive groups much larger than most Unicorns can. It’s ironic, in a way, how you prove Unity’s strength by its very core concept.”
“To think, I never imagined making a town. It never fully crossed my mind until recent years.”
“And yet this town just took on the Pegasus army and won. You may be onto something.”
“No mays about it,” Harmony said and smiled as she looked over the revelers.
“And I’m quite proud of that.” Hammer Strike grinned as he looked over everyone.
“So, are you going to tell Hurricane what really happened to those bodies?” Clover asked.
“He knows.” Hammer Strike turned towards Clover. “He’s part of the circle, so he gets privileged knowledge.”
“Huh. I guess he’s just determined not to let it bother him.”
Hammer Strike looked toward those celebrating as his smile softened. After a moment, he grabbed his cup and tilted it toward the mare. “To Unity’s future.”
She tapped her wine glass against it. “To Unity’s lord.”
Hammer Strike looked to his stack of parchment. Over the course of the last two weeks, he had been establishing and planning out an expansion to Unity that would grant them further territory to work with and the opportunity to take things to the next step in terms of their guard force.
Hurricane walked in with a spring in his step. After the battle, all of the Pegasi who’d followed Pansy had ended up joining Unity properly. With the help of his aid, the guard had begun to run all the more smoothly.
“You asked to see me?”
“Yes.” Hammer Strike gestured to the seat across from him. “I have plans to discuss with you in particular, and I’d like your input.”
Hurricane took the seat. “Of course.”
Hammer Strike took his assortment of documents and turned them each toward Hurricane. “I believe it’s time for expansion. Nothing quite in terms of taking land from the other tribes, but taking the remainder of my land under Unity’s borders. With this, I also believe it’s time for us to finally instate a true military.”
Hurricane looked over the plans carefully. “You want a defensive army?”
“The risks are starting to grow against us.” Hammer Strike sighed. “I’d like to err on the side of caution, to ensure that we are prepared for whatever is to come.”
“It’s possible,” hurricane mused. “We’d probably have to start recruiting, though.”
“You might have to start looking into the roaming mercenaries as well. See if you can spot any worthwhile.”
“I can do that,” Hurricane acknowledged. “It may take a while to get these kinds of numbers, though.”
“All in due time.” Hammer Strike nodded. “I leave it in your hooves.”
“You’re giving me full control?”
Hammer Strike nodded. “I have full faith in your abilities. I’ve admittedly got plenty on my plate right now, and I’d rather have it done to the utmost standard by someone who fully understands the system and idea.”
“No needless protocols, no budget justification? I can name my own officers?”
“Whatever you need to get things rolling.”
Hurricane stood and saluted. “I won’t let you down.”
“I know.” Hammer Strike stood up and returned the salute. “Now show me the reason you were known as one of the greatest Commanders.”
Hammer Strike frowned as he raised the Moonlight Greatsword into the light of his secret forge. Currently, he was studying the weapons given to him by the dice. While the blade resembled a more crystalline appearance, it was actually a form of metal. He wasn’t able to fully decipher what type, but it was indeed a metal. Meanwhile, the Sunlight Greathammer followed suit, being made of an additionally puzzling metal.
He frowned as he looked over the two weapons. Both held a great effect against any creature of the night, vampires in particular, yet they held a differing fact that they performed two separate effects on said creatures and vampires.
He sighed to himself and looked over the wraps on both of the weapons. Once again, they were made from an alien material that was difficult to decipher. It wasn’t until he noticed the end of the wraps that he decided to give something a try.
Reaching towards it, he started working at it in an attempt to remove the wrap, only for it to succeed. His eyebrows raised as he continued to unwrap each of the grips. Eventually, he began to dismantle the weapons piece by piece.
It took half an hour, but he had everything separated before him, from blade to pommel. “So, I can alter both of them,” he muttered to himself as he looked over the components of each section before crossing materials between the two. He checked if the greatsword could take the wrap from the greathammer. There was no backlash of any kind. That implied that the two were indeed capable of incorporation with one another.
After several rounds of back and forth, he finally looked to the blade and hammer head with a newfound curiosity.
If other parts could be switched and matched, could the main pieces of the weapons be alloyed together?
It would be an extreme risk, and could result in the loss of both weapons, but if he could forge a successful alloy out of the two, would they hold the same amount of power together?
He weighed the risks and reward against each other before nodding resolutely. Taking hold of several crucibles, he started working with the metals and gradually melted them together in smaller batches. Afterward, he prepared a greatsword cast.
Over time, he worked the metal in and out of his furnace, heating and treating it to the best of his ability until it finally melted together into a new form. The crucibles glowed a gentle teal as he gathered all the material together. To his surprise and pleasure, not a single piece of slag appeared during refinement.
Finally, he moved the batches to the mold and poured the liquid metal until the entier container was topped off. At first, the liquid metal filled the mold smoothly, taking the intended shape. However, as it began to cool and harden, things changed. Golden and blue bolts of electricity arched along the mold as the metal bubbled and flowed. It seemed to pop from the mold as it altered. The base became wider than Hammer Strike had intended, the mass seeming to pour from the center to the back as the blade lengthened and curved inwards. It was as if the new alloy had a mind of its own.
Before Hammer Strike’s eyes, the material ignored gravity as the outside of the curve developed a thick spine. The inside seemed to form a slant toward a point. The metal shone gold and blue as the process continued, as though two forces were fighting over it. Finally, the whole thing popped into the air with the sound of ringing metal, followed by a loud clang as the wickedly sharp curved blade fell to the floor. The form was familiar to Hammer Strike, and yet different enough it took him a few moments to fully realize what it was.
It was familiar because he’d seen a similar blade on the weapon held by a familiar pair of skeletal hooves.
It was a scythe head.
“What the hell did I just make?” he questioned aloud as he moved toward the blade. After a few seconds, he took hold of it and realized it was pretty much complete. He frowned, placing it on the nearby work table.
He debated it to himself before reaching up and plucking a strand of his mane and dropping it over the blade. Gravity took hold as it slowly drifted down, only to separate on contact with the scythe blade. Before the Pony’s eyes, both halves of the hair were wreathed in gold and silver fire before they crumbled to ash.
He blinked a few times as he looked to the ash before swiping it away. “All right, then…. All you need now is a snath.”
Over the course of an hour, he worked at a shard of the root of Yggdrasil, working at it into a proper grip for the scythe blade, even going so far as to add a shard of uru. Eventually, he worked at combining the two, and before him sat a new weapon altogether.
He had used a scythe before, but he would need a refresher to get back into it. Taking hold of it, he mused over what to name it as he placed it on his back and secured it in place. After bouncing between a few ideas, he opened a gateway back to Unity with a smile. “My Baleful Eclipse.”
“I don’t know if I should be angry or flattered,” a familiar voice spoke up as he returned to Equis properly.
“Just because you’re jealous doesn’t mean you can be upset,” Hammer Strike countered as he looked over to Death.
“Jealousy doesn’t begin to describe it,” Death stated. “You know what I would give to have a weapon like that?”
“I’d say your soul, but someone’s already got dibs on that.”
“That blade is powerful,” Death noted. “Even more so, now that you just imparted a name that fits it.”
“A perfect eclipse of sun and moon.” Hammer Strike took hold of the grip and moved it to his front to look at it once again. “Disturbingly balanced, too.”
“You made it from two soulbound weapons,” Death noted. “This weapon probably understands you better than your own mother. I don’t think anyone has attempted this before.”
“Given my current situation, that’s not too hard to believe,” Hammer Strike muttered toward the first part. Then he shrugged. “Well, someone had to try sometime.”
“And how likely do you think they were to succeed?” Death asked. “You created this weapon for a purpose, and it burns with that purpose.”
Hammer Strike grinned as he looked into the blade. “Perfect.”
“Normally, I’d warn people off of god weapons. They tend to be spiteful, back-biting, or treacherous. What you have there may be the most devoted weapon I've heard of. It has no code, no honor requirement. It wants to drain nothing. It only wants you to use it.”
“And use it, I shall.” Hammer Strike smiled as he glanced up to Death. “Now, I’ve got to practice. Can’t put a weapon like this to shame. You’re free to join me, if you’d like.”
“I need to return to work. I'd advise you to be careful. You’ve probably got all the gods’ attention with this one.”
“Yeah. Sleipnir especially, I would assume,” he remarked looking up.
“Good luck,” Death offered before vanishing.
A scythe was an interesting weapon. Well, weapon was a generous term. For the most part, it was a farming tool made into a weapon. It had similar principles to a halberd or a spear, and yet required different things entirely for technique. Momentum was the key to control, and it admittedly took Hammer Strike a while to get back into the movements required to exercise the weapon properly.
The movements came to him slowly, with long sweeping strikes and quick careful slashes. Keeping the snath moving fluently in his hooves not just higher and lower, but with rotation and counter rotation. It was difficult without someone to practice with, but Hammer Strike was sure such a thing would be a disaster. When he’d attempted to pick up a practice scythe, Baleful Eclipse pulsed with jealousy. His training dummies had proven the blade's ability as the steel reinforced plating and filling both were rendered to little more than scrap.
Still, the blade became more comfortable in his hooves over time. Control followed slowly, but came more and more fluidly over time. He found he could know where the blade would be at all times and could use that to plan movements with perfect prediction.
Hammer Strike could hear hooves clapping behind him as he sent a two-foot-thick tree to the ground with a single swipe of the blade.
“That was amazing,” Clover commented.
Hammer Strike turned to face the mare. “Thanks.” He looked to the blade again before placing it on his back. “Had to practice again. Haven’t used a scythe in … years.”
“And we all felt that weapon when you christened it.” Clover nodded. “You think it will be enough this time?”
“Definitely. I had that bastard on the ropes last time, and I wasn’t fully into it. Now? Now, it’s only a matter of time.”
“I want to go with you next time,” Clover said.
“I would advise against it,” Hammer Strike replied.
“I need to see. I need to learn. Star Swirl spent years ‘protecting’ me from such things, and all it did was make me weaker. I need to understand just what we’re up against.”
Hammer Strike sighed. “On one condition.”
“And that is?”
“When I’m fighting, be nowhere near me.”
“I can do that.”
“Good, because I … I don’t think I can hold back with this thing.” Hammer Strike looked behind him.
“I don’t think holding back is what you should be doing in this fight, anyway.”
“Well, it’s a good thing that wherever we fight will be reduced to rubble afterward.”
“You really hate them, don’t you?”
“I hate any who harm those I watch over.”
she grinned. “Well, then, let's send the vampires a message.”
“Exactly.” Hammer Strike smiled. “I’m sure Ainz should have information on it sometime soon.”
“In that case, I have spells to practice,” Clover said. She lingered for a few seconds longer to stare after him before she charged up her horn for a teleport. “Farewell.”
The air within the Thestral lodge was smoky, its limbs darkened by years of exposure. The majority of the other Thestrals were either asleep in their tents or on patrol. The three tribal leaders from the alliance of Wolf, Manticore, and Lion sat before Hammer Strike.
“While we do understand the need for the darkstalkers who feast on the living in your defense, High Chief, their presence has left our hunting grounds barren. Much of our prey fled, having sensed the presence of evil. If we do not find some means to return them, our people will have no choice but to migrate in search of better prospects,” Amarok, the Wolf chieftess said. “We believed that they would return gladly afterward. Life normally does, especially when there has been no lasting damage to the surrounding environment. Are you certain that there are no other remnants of these … creatures you commanded left in the woods?”
“They’re fully cleared out. That much, I can confirm.” Hammer Strike nodded. “It won’t take the creatures too long to return, due to the abundance of food available to them in that region.”
“If they do not, may we have your permission to seek new hunting grounds or other methods to bring them back?” the Lion chief asked.
“You’re clear for that.” He nodded.
“We will be certain to alert you, should it come to that,” Amarok said. “However, if it does, it may be of use to have a means of communication in the event you should need to call on us. Smoke signals may not necessarily work, given some of our adversaries’ capabilities with wind.”
“I can make a communication relay.” He cleared his throat. “That is to say, a crystal that can project your voice to another one.”
“A useful tool. Will you grant one to each of the tribes?”
Hammer Strike nodded. “It’ll take me some time, but I should be able to get them all complete.”
Black flames erupted nearby as a familiar figure left them. “Hammer Strike, I need to talk with you.”
“Is it the Elder Vampire?”
“I’ve found his stronghold.” Ainz nodded. “His last bastion of sorts.”
Hammer Strike gave a nod toward the Thestrals council. “I’m sorry, but we’ll have to discuss this more another time.”
“Of course.” The chiefs bowed their heads in acknowledgement. “Should you have need of us, we are at your call.”
“Until then.” He turned toward Ainz. “Let’s get to my forge, then. This needs to be dealt with swiftly.”
“Whenever you’re ready.” Ainz nodded.
Several minutes later, the meeting room was beyond full as Jostling Joyance, Anderson, Clover, Ainz, Tarefson, Lord, and the twins waited for Hammer Strike’s briefing.
Hammer Strike looked over all present before nodding to himself. “This trip will only be taken by Lord, Clover, and myself. No one else.”
“I take it you’re doing this on the off chance the filthy heathen tries to send a force while you’re away,” Anderson said.
“That, and you’ll only get in my way,” Hammer Strike replied simply.
“That’s a matter of perspective, but given the contract you’ve bound me to, I suppose I’m overruled.” He grumbled to himself. “Killjoy.”
“Trust me, with the weapon I’m using, you probably won’t regenerate from it.”
“You’ve created a divine weapon,” Lord stated. It wasn’t a question.
“Correct.”
“Well, that settles that, then.” He nodded.
“You don’t want any of us there to keep the rank and file busy?” Tarefson asked.
“Clover and Lord will see to it while I deal with the Elder.”
“Well, that's no fun.”
Anderson grinned. “I’m sure I can give you a good time, deadwalker.” His glasses flashed menacingly.
“Just try it, you Faustian psychopath.”
“Boys, not in the middle of a meeting!” Clover said.
“Yes, Mother,” Tarefson responded and then proceeded to wither as Clover unleashed the evil eye on him.
“The rest of you are to defend this town until my return.” Hammer Strike looked sternly over the group.
“As you wish.” Ainz nodded.
“Rest assured, our combat strategies will be sound,” Binding promised.
“Then let’s get going,” Clover said.
Hammer Strike nodded as everyone disbanded. “I need to collect my scythe,” he said as he departed the chamber.
Clover followed him back to the forge and armory he’d built beneath their house.
Hammer Strike hummed to himself as he removed additional weapons he had on himself. He looked to his hooves and nodded to himself as he removed his coat. The coat itself seemed to hang low on his hoof as he removed it, and once placed on one of the wooden worktables, showed its weight as the table creaked and bent in protest.
Clover let out a muted gasp as the coat landed, her gaze traveling between the coat and the scars that criss-crossed Hammer Strike’s visible skin. “Wait, that's weighted? No. Wait. What happened to you? No…” She seemed unable to focus on a question.
Hammer Strike glanced over to Clover with a raised brow. “Yes, it’s weighted. How else would I be able to continue pushing my exercises?”
“It sounded like it weighed a ton,” Clover pointed out.
“I haven’t personally weighed it recently. I just keep adding weight and mass to it until I can feel it.” He shrugged.
“How often have you been adding weight?”
“Whenever I stop feeling the weight.”
“And how long does that take?”
“Depends on how active I am.” He shrugged. “I think the longest bit was roughly two to three weeks.”
“How long have you been doing this?”
Hammer Strike blinked a few times as he thought it over. “Roughly … fifty to sixty years now? I’ve done it with every coat I’ve ever owned.”
“That coat’s got to weigh more than several full grown Ponies,” Clover noted.
“Probably.” He shrugged. “I’ll have to weigh it later, see how far I’ve come.”
“And the scars?”
“I…” He frowned to himself. “I’ve fought a lot in my life, and have been tortured just as much,” he replied simply as he took hold of Baleful Eclipse and placed it on his back.
“I had no idea”
“Not many do,” Hammer Strike replied with a gentle smile. “I always wear a coat, after all, and … I don’t really talk about my past.”
“I’m sorry.”
“What for?” Hammer Strike raised a brow.
“That you had to go through that.”
“That’s life.” He shrugged. “You just have to take what it gives you and work your way past it.”
“I suppose. Still, I’m sorry.”
“It’s mostly over now, so it’s only getting better, yeah?”
“I guess so. Is there anything else you need?”
“That should be it.” Hammer Strike gave a small smile. “Let’s give them hell.”
The darkness that casts a shadow over darkness itself. That is at least one way the vampire domain was described. The few villagers that remained near its entrance were traumatized and driven to the brink of madness with paranoia, but it was an apt description. Deep within a cavern at the heart of a large hill lay a portal, from whence a dark mist flowed to fill the room and blacken the crystals that grew there. Beyond this portal, in a pocket dimension deep within the realm of shadows, a towering edifice hovered over the brink of an endless void. The occasional stirring of glowing lights and angry snarls hinted at the horrible creatures that lurked beyond sight in the depths.
The castle was a grandiose structure that seemed almost to spiral into the infinite darkness above. Blood runes glowed with perverse light, binding the structure to the world and drawing on the power source that lay in the darkness below. Whole legions of vampires and thralls stretched over a blank expense before the structure. A glowing red barrier flickered before the walls while the troops milled about.
Lesser creatures of the underworld snapped and snarled. Hellhounds growled and competed for their suppers. Whole kegs of blood flowed freely to strengthen the undead forces. The air rumbled with the roll of thunder as the inky blackness swirled overhead. The very walls of the structure itself seemed to churn and shift, taking on a different appearance every few minutes. To enter the structure would likely mean facing a maze that could turn one around every few rooms, if one wasn’t careful.
Death knights and other entities were interspersed through the groups as a form of tank to act against any invading force. Here, where the darkness reigned, these creatures were in their element, and they would challenge or destroy any that entered without the master’s permission.
Hammer Strike, Lord, and Clover arrived in a flash of light, appearing outside the castle's walls. Clover had her staff nearby as she examined the area. “This is the place?”
“Sure seems like it,” Hammer Strike commented as he rolled his shoulders.
“They really rolled out the red carpet.” Lord chuckled. “It’s almost sad how necessary it is.”
“Let’s just wrap this up.” Hammer Strike frowned. “I’d prefer this to be the last time I have to even think about this.”
Lord nodded, turning to the glowing red wall. “Should I open the back door, then?”
“Yes.”
Lord reared onto his hind legs. The hooves on his forelegs shifted to become hideous clawed hands that he placed on the wall. The red energy flared for an instant, but seemed unable to block him as he sunk his claws between the stones and tore a large section of them away, leaving an opening in the wall. Then he used his claws to peel the barrier away when it tried to fill in.
Hammer Strike moved to enter, giving a nod at Lord’s work before preparing himself for the fight to come.
The inside of the castle was far larger than the outside, but Hammer Strike had come to expect that by this point. It wouldn’t be a final fortress if it didn’t have these kinds of defenses to strip an opponent of stamina and vitality. More horrors inhabited the keep, including flaming skulls, poltergeists, lesser demons, and even a bone dragon. However, when it became evident that a series of puzzles would be requisite to open the way forward, Hammer Strike had finally had enough of indulging his host. Doors blew into splinters. Gates melted before his withering glare. Walls were obliterated or reduced to fragments. Barriers were stripped of power, their anchors easily found and destroyed. Guardians were swiftly dispatched with a clop of his hoof, either burned or otherwise obliterated by thaumic means. Whole swaths of minions were reduced to nothingness in a matter of seconds.
From the safety of his throne room at the top of the castle, the vampire watched through a crystal ball. At first, he sneered derisively at the impudence of his former foe. The fact he had managed to enter the castle in the first place and escape the planes of hell implied he must have made a contract with some form of devil. However, that did not make the Pony invincible or immortal. In this place, the vampire’s powers would be at their strongest. There would be no feasible means for this insect to—
And then he watched Hammer Strike destroy an entire floor of monsters in a matter of seconds. He hissed in frustration. “An archdevil?” It seemed the only viable explanation for the sheer power this Pony seemed to radiate. He hissed again when Hammer Strike looked directly at him through the orb. The eyes that stared back lacked all sense of pity and mercy. This was the gaze of a creature that had lost all patience. Hammer Strike extended a hoof and the image shattered. Not only had he found the hidden relay point, but he’d destroyed it without even moving.
The vampire snarled in frustration as his hordes were swiftly conquered. And then came that horrid, disgusting feeling. His chest tightened. His breathing became labored. Fear for his immortal life blossomed. And he was not pleased. He roared and flung the crystal at a wall with his magic, then watched the orb shatter. He turned resolutely toward the passage that led to his quarters. If he was going to meet this new contractor, he would do so fully armed.
The doors to the throne room burst open with little effort on Hammer Strike’s part. The room was swathed in pennons and silken drapes that hung from the ceiling’s intricate arches and support structure. Black and scarlet carried throughout as he strode through the black wafts of miasma that rolled over the carpet. Heavy plate armor coated his adversary, and the helm he wore covered all but the end of his muzzle as he sneered in either contempt or derision, perhaps both. His red eyes glowed steadily from within the hollows of the helmet, and his voice filled the room with a curious sort of pressure.
“So, you’re back.” His expression remained unreadable. “Why have you come? To throw your life away, after you have already given your soul?”
The pressure increased. Hammer Strike responded by stepping forward. His hoofsteps echoed through the room, disrupting the quiet and bursting the bubble the vampire’s voice had created. The miasma recoiled from his legs as he continued his grim march.
“Your voice, too? Or are you merely too angry to speak? Either way, how very sad. The great Hammer Strike.” He rose from his throne and levitated a pair of longswords on either side of him. “Come to die.”
In a moment, he was there. The next, he was gone. The miasma reared and roared as it filled the room with a natural, or perhaps better to call it unnatural, smokescreen. The vampire’s cruel laughter echoed and rebounded through the smog. A blade would emerge from the shadows without warning. Each time a blow would seem destined to land. However, Hammer Strike would narrowly evade the hit. As the assault continued, it became almost a kind of dance across the floor. Bending, bowing, pivoting, weaving. The two combatants ranged across the floor with neither gaining the upper hand. The vampire would continue to evade him for so long as the miasma remained.
Or so the vampire thought.
Once more, the elder lunged. Only this time, Hammer Strike didn’t hold still. He dodged the first sword and dove headlong for the creature. The vampire winced as metal clattered on the stone beneath their hooves. The dark aura around his horn sputtered, but would not act as he commanded. In a matter of moments, Hammer Strike had seized him by the throat.
“Lord,” Hammer Strike called out. “Seal us, now.”
There was a sudden blast of power, and the room they were in was covered in a brilliant orange glow as it was sealed into its own dimension.
The vampire snarled and struck a blow at Hammer Strike’s chest. Hammer Strike’s hoof rose to meet it, and the shockwave blew back the miasma to clear the floor. That same implacable gaze stared into the Vampire’s eyes. The vampire went with a headbut this time. Hammer Strike didn’t even flinch. The elder snarled as he rained blow after blow and was countered effortlessly, all while Hammer Strike continued to grip his throat.
“Get off me, you miserable little ingrate!” He used momentum to twist around and try to land a blow on Hammer Strike’s side. Instead, searing pain lashed through his legs and his hooves smoked as they made contact with Hammer Strike’s scythe.
“I’ve grown quite tired of this song and dance,” Hammer Strike commented.
“On that, we are agreed,” the elder growled, even as he looked expectantly at his hindlegs. They trembled. The wound still smoked. The hairs burnt. Nothing was growing back. “What…?”
“Good,” he commented simply as his hooves burst with thaumic energy. “In that case, you won’t be needing this.” He stood on his hind legs as he raised his other hoof toward the vampire. Purple energy seeped off the Pony’s body into Hammer Strike’s hoof to coalesce in the shape of a deep purple crystal. As soon as the energy stopped springing forth from the vampire, he casually threw his opponent toward the barrier wall before inspecting the crystal in his hoof.
What had only been muted pain before was now magnified by a factor of ten. The elder took a great gasp of air as, for the first time in centuries, his body actually felt the need to breathe. His pupils dilated in shock as his long-dead heart gained new life. What started as a weak stutter soon surged to a roar that drowned out all other sound as the blood he had consumed became his own once again. A terrible stinging pricked at his eyes. The room became a blur as water welled in his vision. His body trembled violently as life slowly ebbed its way back into every follicle of hair, every cell. “What did you do to me?” he huffed. It faded into silence almost before he could complete the sentence. He took a deep, shuddering breath and tried again. “What did you do to me?” This time, the scream came properly.
“I cured your vampirism,” Hammer Strike replied simply and threw the gem behind him before it vanished into the air.
“That’s not possible. No mortal can cure a vampire. It can’t be done! You … what are you?”
“I am merely a pissed off stallion.” Hammer Strike looked over to the no-longer-vampire. “I am simply very tired of these games. Tired of having to play by rules and limitations. But it’s simply necessary most of the time. You, however, gave me a reason to stop playing by those rules.”
The Unicorn’s breathing came out in low strangled sobs that morphed into a desperate animalistic cry of futile rage as his horn refused to ignite and the swords he had once wielded so casually could hardly be lifted off the ground with both hooves. A low nicker escaped his lips as his sides heaved. “I’ll kill you,” he said in a husky rasp. “I’ll kill you!” He charged Hammer Strike with his horn leveled to impale the Pony.
“By my authority as thaumaturge, I issue forth a command you can not ignore.” Hammer Strike’s voice rang with authority as blue fire surged to wreath his body. He effortlessly caught the Unicorn by the throat and held him at foreleg’s length. “Recite your name verbally, so that all shall know where the target may land.”
The Unicorn growled and snarled as he wrestled against the compulsion, but ultimately, he had no choice as his mouth parted against his will. His tongue danced. And finally, the name dragged out of his throat, even as he struggled to swallow it back down. “Bleeding … Heart.”
Hammer Strike reached back with his hoof and took hold of Baleful Eclipse. He brought it forth, turning the scythe’s blade toward the Unicorn’s neck for the first and final time. “Now cry out to the heavens whilst you’re dragged down to hell.” He pulled the scythe forward, cutting through the stallion’s neck with no resistance. After a second, he dropped the body off to the side and gave Baleful Eclipse a quick swipe to clear the blood before placing it on his back once again.
Hammer Strike could feel it as the energy around the room crumbled.
“We’re done here, Lord. Clear up the remnants of the creatures here.” Hammer Strike sighed, “I’m going to investigate the building.”
“I think Clover’s already working on that.” A brilliant blast of light shone through the door behind him.
“Aid her, if you would, then. While I’m sure she can clear the remainder, I’d prefer it if she wasn’t draining her energy at a rapid rate. This place doesn’t agree fully with outside magic, and it’ll probably take some time for it to clear.”
“Very well.” Lord nodded as he turned and left. The orange aura of the dimensional seal lifted, returning the chamber to its original place in space and time.
Eventually every creature besides Hammer Strike, Clover, and Lord were dealt with, leaving the trio to begin investigating parts of the castle.
“Keep an eye out for some sort of treasury, some collective of valuables. There’s bound to be something worthwhile to bring back to Unity there,” Hammer Strike commented to the others.
“I imagine Ainz would love to get ahold of his library,” Clover noted.
“You know what? Perhaps I should call him here,” Hammer Strike hummed to himself. Thaumic energy surrounded him for a moment before he called out. “Ainz? We’re clear. Can you move in for relocating valuables?”
In response, a familiar dark gate opened up, and Ainz walked out. Several more gates opened, and ghouls and zombies exited in droves to begin searching.
It was several hours later when Lord’s voice called out. “I found it,” he said.
Hammer Strike turned his attention away from his current mark and moved toward Lord’s location. “What are we looking at?”
“A blood seal. I’ve already opened it and put the lock in stasis.”
“Any note of what’s inside?” Hammer Strike questioned. “Or did you leave it until we’re collectively there?”
“I thought it would be better to merly make sure no traps would activate and wait for you.”
Hammer Strike nodded. “Appreciated.”
“Bottom floor, there is a passage hidden behind a statue holding a spear straight outward.”
Hammer Strike moved through the levels of the castle until he arrived at the previously mentioned statue. Moving around the statue revealed the hidden passage Lord had uncovered. The path was a simple stone hallway that led about a hundred feet or so to a large black metal door that Lord stood before. It was carved with several angry-looking red runes that pulsed as they attempted to work some spell they clearly couldn’t. The simple pull handle was covered in blood with a large barb sticking from it.
“Good. You managed to find it,” Lord noted.
“Let’s see what we’ve got, then, yeah?” Hammer Strike gestured for Lord to lead the way.
It was a simple matter for Lord to break the remnants of the blood magic that had been cast by Bleeding Heart, now that said caster was dead. While the magic would normally have passed on to a successor to maintain the strength of the spell, it was obvious he must not have had an heir for the magic to latch on to. The runes shattered into ethereal flecks of light that dissipated in the air to leave the door itself. The barb melted, leaving the handle on its own to open without paying the offering.
The interior of the chamber was grandiose. Polished black marble and obsidian blended together to surround the chamber as a form of sphere. Piles of gold, precious jewels, rare reagents, totems, and various foci lay in piles around the structure. Chests, puzzle boxes, and tiny containers etched with complex binding runes all bedazzled the eye as they sat awaiting their master. The walls roiled like the churning of a storm, and the occasional flash of dark purple would brighten the room briefly before the luminescence returned to its base glow. While the hoard was small, relatively speaking, the quality of the items in question left little doubt that this was likely the former vampire’s personal collection.
“Well, this will certainly assist Unity,” Hammer Strike commented.
“Surprisingly small for an elder vampire,” Lord noted.
“Agreed, but it will at least prove useful to us in the end.”
“You have a place in mind to store it?”
Hammer Strike frowned. “It’ll probably have to go in the basement of my house for the time being. I’ll need to look into building a treasury at some point, and find someone to run it…” He lost his voice as he looked over to a nearby container.
A small plinth nearby held a wooden box containing five very similar and familiar objects.
Hammer Strike started flatly at the objects in front of him. It was way more than he ever wanted to see in one place, and it’s current location set him off as well. “Five. He had five…”
“Powerful artifacts,” Lord nodded. “But utterly useless to him.”
“Ainz,” Hammer Strike called out as he took hold of the dice container. “Report in. We’ve got treasures to move.”
Ainz materialized a few moments later. “The usual place?”
“Basement, yeah. I’ll have to fully sort it later…”
Ainz moved aside as a gate opened and the undead began entering the room to ferry out the goods.
Yharon yawned and stretched his legs, then rose from his nap under one of the larger trees in the area. The smell of fresh grass and the comforting aura of the natural magics that lingered in the area proved to be just what the doctor ordered after a brutal lesson in combat magics from Clover. His wings ached, but at least he was getting better at harnessing his abilities.
“About time you woke up.” Celestia smiled as she approached. A thick loaf of bread steamed as she carried it in her magic. “Thought you might be hungry.”
Yharon smiled sheepishly as his stomach growled. “Yeah….”
A chunk of the loaf broke off and floated to Yharon’s waiting claws. “I tried a little something different this time. It turned out sweeter than I expected, but it’s very tasty.”
Yharon tossed it into his maw and chewed thoughtfully. “It doesn’t … feel like bread,” he said. “It’s … heavier, more dense. But I see what you mean about being sweet. How did you get the crust to crack like that on top?”
Celestia shrugged. “I have absolutely no idea. It’s surprisingly soft.”
“Well, whatever it is, it’s tasty. Have you tried sharing it with Luna?”
Celestia shook her head. “You know how she is about the guard. With Father still tending to other things....”
“She’ll jump at the chance to fight.” Yharon sighed. “She’s not going to turn into a berserker, is she?”
Celestia shook her head firmly. “Father wouldn’t allow that to happen, even if she did start showing signs like that.”
Yharon frowned. “I just … don’t want anything to happen to us, you know?”
Celestia smiled and offered him another piece. “Here. It’ll help you feel better.”
The dragon smirked. “What is this magic?”
“I call it kitchen sorcery.”
“Nah. It’s gotta be witchcraft.”
Both laughed as they finished off the loaf of bread that wasn’t bread and began running rounds through the town.
Hammer Strike hummed to himself as he stood before an empty plot of land. Before him was a wooden table with a few pieces of parchment laid on it. Each bore some design for a building. Further inspection revealed them each to be a layout for a town treasury. He occasionally would move from his position and start measuring sections of the empty plot before returning to the table and drawing out something additional to the plans.
“Seems like an ambitious project,” Clover noted over his shoulder. She’d walked in a while ago and had silently been scanning the pages.
Hammer Strike blinked as he noticed her presence, then shrugged. “Yeah, but it’s one that needs to be done.”
“Most treasuries aren't public,” she noted.
“It’s a mixture, a treasury and a bank.”
“That’s the first time I’ve seen it done like this.”
“It’ll help with our current situation of land to keep things closer and combine what we can, so residents have less land issues.” He shrugged. “What brings you over here, anyway?”
“I finished most of the new spellbooks and decided to take a look at what you were working on.”
Hammer Strike nodded. “I take it your students are learning quite quickly?”
“They are. Admittedly, most of them do it for you.”
Hammer Strike hummed questioningly. “I figured learning under a well known name would have been the main interest.”
“You’d think, but it seems like you inspire many here to do whatever they can for Unity.”
Hammer Strike chuckled. “Sorry to have stolen the spotlight from you in your own class.” He gave a smile.
“Honestly, it’s good. When I was little, King Bullion used to inspire others similarly. In his younger days, he was actually a very wise king.”
“Time changes Ponies.”
“True. Hopefully, some of us for the better.”
Hammer Strike nodded. “That’s the plan.”
“You know the Pegasi aren't going to take what happened lying down,” she noted. “You ready for what that could mean?”
“Yeah.” He sighed. “I’ve worked toward more Gravity Tunnels to help out, expand how far our reach can go.”
“I think….” Clover took a moment to gather her thoughts and breathe. “That is, I’d like to request once again for you to teach me your arts.”
Hammer Strike blinked a few times as he thought over the question. “Wait, you … you’re actually asking me?”
Clover blushed. “Yes. I think I’m ready for the risk.”
Hammer Strike put down his equipment and turned his attention fully toward Clover. “I would ask if you’re sure you remember the risks, but ... I’m positive it was an experience you couldn’t forget.” He sighed, hummed, then nodded. “I’ll have to make some preparations. It’s been … quite some years since I last taught anyone.”
“You couldn’t be worse then Star Swirl.”
“It’s not that.” Hammer Strike shook his head. “I—“ He frowned. “You lack one thing that’s needed for me to teach you, which means I have to give you one.”
“Yes?” Clover raised an eyebrow.
Hammer Strike sighed. “Allow me to explain one thing that I never clarified to anyone. I’m not using magic.”
“But it seems to follow all the rules,” Clover said, surprised.
“That’s because I make it follow the rules. I even make it feed off mana to keep it under wraps,” he commented softly. He brought his hoof up and a familiar golden orb appeared before him. “Scan it. Tell me what you’re reading now.”
Clover did scan it, and her eyes widened. “That, … that shouldn’t be possible.”
“In a large term, it is. By magic standards, it’s not,” he replied. “It’s a level of control over the world around us that isn’t easily replicable by magic.”
“This is why you’ve been able to do things that shouldn’t be possible?”
“Exactly. It treads on the powers of gods, and bears equal risk.”
“I—” Clover stopped herself and composed her words carefully. “I think i can handle the risk, if you’re willing to teach.”
“I’ll have to prepare some aspects. And then I’ll prepare to give you a field.”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s…” He frowned before his hoof ignited in blue fire and he reached toward Clover. “It’d be simpler to show you. You will see the world like I can for just a moment,” he said before the energy spread from his hoof to Clover’s eyes.
“This is how you see the world?” she asked as she looked around, attempting to take in the sight. The energy spectrum now revealed to her gaze shifted and mixed around them in colors and combinations she never expected.
“This is how I can, see the world. Like a thaumaturge. Each object and individual in reality is made up of forms of energy that are collected together into a physical mass. A thaumaturge can alter the energy freely by willpower alone,” he explained. “Look at me.”
Clover obeyed. Besides the shifting colors of energy that made up his body, he was surrounded by a separate field that coated the entirety of his body. It was white in nature, and it burned brightly around the edges. It pulsed the brightest at his hoof, where a tether pulsed out toward Clover.
“What is that?” she asked, taking an involuntary step back.
“The reason I can control this power. That is a thaumic field, one that only bends to its owner’s will.”
“What do I need to do?”
“To get this field? Nothing. I have to apply one to you, and to do so, I need to gather some aspects, the separate threads of energy, ... of mass.”
“So, what do you want me to do until then?”
“Don’t overstress yourself.” Hammer Strike shrugged as he released the energy. “I’ll be around your home later tonight to apply the field, all right?”
“All right.” She nodded. “Thank you, by the way. I know last time I was … hard to deal with.”
Hammer Strike chuckled. “Everyone was young once. Even me.”
Hammer Strike sighed to himself as he stood outside Clover’s house. Within his coat resided a few crystals that he would use to empower the field. After a minute of final mental debate, he knocked on the door. Clover opened it not long after.
“Ah, right on time!” She smiled and let him in. She’d removed her normal cloak, and Hammer Strike had his first real chance to get a look at the mare without the cloak or age affecting his view.
“I took the liberty of deciding on what aspects will empower your field, those being Auram, and Praecantatio, aura and magic.”
“That sounds oddly on the nose,” Clover said.
“I figured you’d appreciate it.” He returned her smile. “Now, I’d suggest placing yourself on the couch, because the process may or may render you unconscious, due to the sudden influx of power.”
Clover nodded and followed his instructions, getting comfortable on the couch.
Hammer Strike pulled out a trio of crystals, one red, one purple, and one pink. First he took the red one in his hoof as the member ignited with thamic energy. “Now, this may feel a bit … strange,” he warned. Then he threw his hoof out toward Clover, and the energy burst fort. It surrounded Clover as it attempted to bind itself to every fiber of her being.
The sensation was the equivalent of being poked and prodded with needles. Thousands upon thousands pressed and prodded as they attached themselves to each individual aspect that made up her body and magic.
Soon after, the needles turned to spikes as the purple crystal was added to the mix. Her vision distorted as tears swam in her vision. The pain progressed farther and farther into herself until she couldn’t handle the influx and fell unconscious.
Hammer Strike frowned to himself as he took hold of the third crystal and continued the process. Despite his concern for Clover, he knew he couldn’t stop, or it would result in a backlash. So, he pressed on, warping the aspects to coat an external layer surrounding her, attaching it to her magic, and creating a stable loop to feed both sides.
As soon as he finished, the energy dissipated from his hoof, and he found himself breathing heavily from the strain. He took a few calming breaths before looking Clover over with his tahumic gaze. A smile pulled across his lips as he noted the field of energy pulsing calmly as it adapted to its new controller.
He wiped at his forehead as he moved towards one of the other couches and sat down, himself. Reaching into his coat, he pulled out a small book. He would wait until she woke before leaving.
It took three hours before Clover showed signs of stirring.
“Is it over?” Her speech was slurred slightly as she returned to consciousness.
“It’s over.” Hammer Strike nodded. “It’s not fully charged, but it’ll fill over the course of a day or two.”
Clover slowly got to her hooves. “I feel weird, but strangely good,” she said as she moved around the room. The more she moved, the greater her energy seemed to become.
“Well, considering it’s also empowering your magic, and vice versa, I’d hope so,” Hammer Strike replied. He closed the book in his hooves and placed it back into his coat.
Smiling, Clover lifted Hammer Strike off the couch with her magic and pulled him toward her. Then she wrapped her forehooves around him tightly.
“I, uh….” He returned the hug. “No problem?”
“Come on,” she said, leading him toward her bedroom. “Let's go celebrate.”
“Huh?” Hammer Strike sputtered as he was dragged along.
Clover said nothing as she pulled him into the bedroom and shut the door behind them.
Extended Holiday Chapter 171: The More Things Change...
Fives years came and went, almost flashing by. Things remained mostly quiet. Neither Unicorns nor the Pegasi darkened Unity’s door for the entire time. Ponies continued to stream to Unity seeking protection, safety, or simply a means for a fresh start. Sometimes, a band of Gryphons showed up looking for work as well, and were integrated into Unity’s ever-growing populace.
Hurricane’s recruitment drives were highly successful, and the army’s ranks swelled with new cadets. All were put through training and drills. They were trained hard, despite the peace, and the results were obvious. Unity had several scores of highly disciplined and incredibly well-armed soldiers.
Clover’s mage college was also established in the interim. Within, groups of battle mages received high-end education in the art of battlefield magic. Foci and spells were appearing every day in new and interesting ways as the craft was pushed to new ideas and new heights.
Anderson’s flock had grown quite large. Music and prayers constantly filtered from the church as the Gryphon had a service three times a week, and Heinkel had one on the weekend.
Ainz’s tomb had grown to enormous proportions, thanks to his unending workforce. The whole thing was sealed in a dimensional spell that kept anyone from entering or leaving, except by means of the door. As such, the Diamond Dogs were completely unaware of the mass of undead entombed beside their mine. Over time, creatures appeared in the tomb not of the undead persuasion. Ainz assured Hammer Strike each was safely bound under him. Each was apparently a master in different aspects of dark magic and dark magical science.
Tarefson, for his part, kept himself mostly to the tomb. He’d taken over one massive chamber as his own, inside of which he kept a coffin, a chair, and nothing else. He spent most days sitting in the dark, as if waiting for something.
Binding slowly fell into his role as administrator of Unity. While he kept his spellcasting sharp, and was often seen in the company of his erstwhile companions when not working, he was most often found behind his desk scribbling away at paperwork.
Luna had asked to be placed within the military at the base level, and to be trained as one of the rookies. Hurricane refused at first, but eventually Hammer Strike convinced him, and luna learned about life in a real army. Possibly thanks to her genetics, or possibly thanks to life with Hammer Strike, she took to it earnestly and easily. She rose quickly in the ranks on her own merits. She spent most of her free time stargazing or smithing, and she’d come a long way in her craft. She smiled for a full week when Hammer Strike had personally tested one of her daggers and declared it, “passable.”
Yharon’s feathers continued to grow and shine. His scutes thickened along his chest, and the dark hide around his horns and face toughened as his features became more refined. Age had granted new development as his tail grew spikes, and new pulsing crevices developed where the flow of his magic followed his heartbeat. With the growth of his new appendage came the increased requirement of combat training. Control was key, if he didn’t want to accidentally damage one of the buildings. He could still fit inside buildings, but the mass his body had accumulated was beginning to cause some difficulty when he navigated the halls and furniture. Fortunately, Clover was able to teach him a spell to help modify his size to make it easier on him. With puberty came a massive spike in his magical power, and so Yharon had to balance his combat classes with magical manipulation. The Dragon eventually became so skilled that Clover offered to have him assist in some of her beginner courses.
Celestia, meanwhile, had yet to discover her place in Unity. Yes, she could bake, cook, debate, study magic, and even teach, which proved to be her favorite activity. But despite this and the family connections she had enjoyed, something just didn’t feel right. She was distracted when her brush touched the canvas, even going so far as to accidentally paint a casual observer. She gradually became more pensive and solitary, sticking to writing in a scroll or reviewing notes and journals their mother had left behind in the tablets.
Poultice Solution and his mate had taken great solace in the demise of Bleeding Heart. And while it didn’t lessen the pain when they lost their little filly, it did allow them to close the page on that dreadful chapter and open the way to the beginning of the next one. The two rekindled their spark and eventually brought forth new life. They named him Muninn, after the manner of the old tongue, that he may always be a reminder to them of what they had lost and gained. When the colt wasn’t playing with others or helping in the gardens, he would often visit his sister’s grave to speak with her.
Clover thrust herself into her lessons, and not just lessons with Hammer Strike. She threw herself into lessons with Ainz and his compatriots, adding dark magic into her retinue with ease. She spent weeks fine-tuning enchantments with Binding, and even researched into Earth Pony and Pegasus magic. She bought every book of magic she could from wherever she might find, be it Gryphon, Minotaur, Roo, and even one or two tomes from the Kitsune Empire.
Her relationship with Hammer Strike had changed. It wasn’t love; not at this time. They both realized and acknowledged that, but found comfort and release from the stress of their lives in each other. They had an unspoken rule not to talk about what was happening between them in front of others, and things seemed good.
And after the saga of the vampires, good was positively brilliant. Every member of Unity pledged silently to make each day count. And by Faust, they were going to do it.
Hammer Strike sighed to himself as he exited his forge. He had just finished a few new pieces of equipment for the guard, and was now needed elsewhere. Clover was out near his personal training fields close to the mines, based off his rough estimate of the time.
He blinked a few times as he exited the house and looked over the town with a small smile. He nodded to himself and turned on the spot, then strode toward the training fields to join the mare. Occasionally, he would give a nod toward some of the guards he passed as they saluted.
It didn’t take him long to finally arrive at his training grounds. Clover had already started practicing some of the earlier bits of training, forming aspect crystals and breaking them down with ease, shaping them with barely any effort.
“I hope you didn’t have to wait long,” Hammer Strike commented as he drew near.
“Not at all.” She smiled at him as she reformed several aspect crystals into a severely detailed sixty-four-point pentagram.
“Let’s see.” Hammer Strike hummed to himself. “I’ve covered most of the general stuff. Perhaps we can look into some artifice work now. I can show you the methods of making objects and equipment using thaumaturgy.”
“That sounds useful.” Clover grinned. “I wonder if it could be combined with mage artifice?”
“It most certainly can.” Hammer Strike gave a small smile. “Remember, despite being separate from magic, it can tie itself to magic and other miscellaneous fields of influence.”
“That could potentially create severely potent magical items. So, where do we start?”
“First, we need to start on the basics of it.” Hammer Strike reached into his coat and pulled out a few objects. “Let me show you the process of tying it to magic in the first place.”
Over the course of an hour, he showed Clover the methods of tracing magic and how to differentiate between user, world, and battery. He made sure to give a valid example of each for her to break down in her own time to further her knowledge of the art.
Like many other things, Clover took to it like a fish took to water. She had already grasped most of the basic and intermediate concepts by the end of the hour.
“Now, as for the whole effect part, that’s a vastly different concept. But it should be relatively the same as standard magic artificing.” Hammer Strike shrugged. “Relatively being the key word.”
“And key words can change everything,” Clover concluded.
“Exactly.” Hammer Strike nodded. “We’ll cover more on that tomorrow, however, as I’m positive it will take quite some time to go through everything.” Then he sighed.
“Yeah, it would be good to take a break.” Clover smiled. “You busy?”
“Not entirely. I’ve got a few pieces of platemail to have finished by the end of the week, but I’m mostly clear on that already.”
“Is that where you got the shavings in your beard?”
Hammer Strike raised a brow before shrugging. “I’d guess so. I suppose it is time for me to trim my beard.” he commented, rubbing the edge of his jaw.
Clover grinned mischievously and wrapped a hoof around his neck. “You can trim it later.”
“Oh, my.”
Hammer Strike yawned to himself as he entered his house. It was later in the day than he anticipated returning home, but it wasn’t like anyone would complain. He gave a wave to Celestia, Luna, and Yharon as he entered the house and made his way toward his bedroom.
Passing by his bed, he entered his bathroom and, by habit, took out a few knives in preparation. Looking in the mirror, he noted that he did have some grey specks stuck to his beard in several sections. He frowned and brushed through the hairs in an attempt to clean up his beard, only for the specks to remain.
He sighed as he leaned closer for more detailed scrutiny. Finally, he realized the source of the problem. Those weren’t metal shavings in his beard.
His beard was starting to go grey.
He furrowed his brows as he looked over his facial hair for each section. It was only incredibly small patches and singular hairs, but it was there. He took a step back and examined himself further in the mirror. He didn’t appear to show any other major signs of age, but that typically did come later. His frown deepened as he thought over his potential cases.
“I can’t let that show,” he muttered. “The potential outcomes would put worry in some citizens. Celestia, Luna, and Yharon, too. Though whether Celestia and Luna remember the medical cube is up in the air....” He hummed to himself.
“You’re overreacting,” Harmony noted as she materialized by his side.
“Perhaps. But it holds some truth. If the citizens of Unity were to see me aging, they’d focus on what’s to come, a successor, etcetera.”
“Is that not how the order of things is meant to progress?”
“In a normal way, yes.” Hammer Strike nodded. “But you should know me well enough by now.” He stood and made his way toward the basement.
“And how often do you intend to renew yourself like this?”
“As many times as needed,” Hammer Strike replied as he made his way down to the level where the medical cube was held. “No matter the risks. No matter the pain it may cause me.”
“You will need to let things go one day, Hammer Strike.” Harmony sighed. “I just hope you’ll be able to when it comes.”
“I will eventually, but today isn’t that day.” He smiled sadly at Harmony. “I have to wait for the Doctor, who I’m positive is searching for a valid point in time to land. After that, we’ll see where life takes me.”
“Wherever it does, I’ll be waiting for you.” And then the projection did something he had never experienced before. She strode up to him and kissed him on the cheek.
“Well,” he chuckled. “We did end up making a tie.” He gave her a small smile as he placed his hoof on the lock of the cube. The door opened quickly with a sharp hiss as the system engaged. He stepped inside and strode through the airlock and general decontamination. The inside of the cube hadn’t changed a day since he established it.
Taking a breath, he looked to the center of the room and steadied himself before moving toward the console.
“Let’s see. General revitalization,” he muttered, tapping away at several inputs. “Sounds about right, yeah?”
“Is there any other kind?”
“Not really.” Hammer Strike glanced over the other options and reined in his emotions. “Mostly stuff about augments, and I think I’m fine in that regard.”
“Then shall we begin?”
“I’d suggest you perhaps not watch the process. If it’s anything like previous experiences, then it’s not a pretty sight. Yes, you’re an embodiment. Yes, you’ve probably seen similar from your time before coming to the mortal realm, but I’d still prefer you step out for a little bit, all right?”
“If that’s what you wish.” Harmony nodded and slowly faded from sight. “See you on the other side.”
Hammer Strike nodded. Once she was gone, he activated the machine. The medical table’s restraints clicked open for him to place himself within. Taking a shaky breath, he moved onto the table, ensuring everything was in place before it all clicked shut.
“It’s for the better,” he muttered to himself as the tube above whired to life.
“It’s for the better.” He took a breath as the tube cracked open and a needle of fluid came down and pierced into his neck.
“It’s … for the better,” he slurred as the sedative kicked in, rendering the world dark.
Hammer Strike groaned as consciousness returned to him. He was still on the table, though it no longer held him in place, having released him some time ago. After a moment, he turned himself over, landing on his hooves with a wobble as he regained his footing. “That’s a strange feeling.” he muttered aloud. “Harmony, it’s done.”
“And how are you feeling?” the manifestation of order asked as she materialized within the chamber.
“Honestly, a lot better.” He stretched to work out the kinks. “Feels like a weight has been lifted off me.” He looked to Harmony and frowned. “Did you…?” Then he looked down at himself and around the room. “Did you get shorter?”
“No. You grew taller.”
“Did I?” Hammer Strike looked around once again. “It … does seem like it. How much else did I change?” he asked as he approached the terminal and began to review the results.
“You mean other than looking younger against the natural order of things?”
“Yes.”
“Not that I can see, but you could always call up a mirror and look for yourself. I wouldn’t be surprised if that feature was included as a part of this device.”
“It does have a mirror, but I’ll look after I read the report of what was done. Based on the data here, It looks like I picked the wrong option? I’m actually not one hundred percent sure, but it appears the revitalization was focused on Alicorn care, which means it read me on the unhealthy side in terms of my growth.” He frowned. “It also removed some augments, apparently, mostly stuff that appeared to have burned out or malfunctioned.”
“Do you feel different as a result?”
“Notably better, actually.” Hammer Strike grinned as he moved toward a full length mirror. He noted that besides the increase in height, his mane had fully returned to a darker brown, and his fur appeared healthier than it once was.
“You certainly are handsome. I’d be careful about that, if I were you. You might just draw the eye of some mares you don’t want courting.”
“Don’t remind me.” Hammer Strike sighed. “Especially those with political gains in mind,” he muttered.
“Best answer to that is to find someone who isn’t like that, then. Even if it’s in name only, it will save you a lot of grief in the long run.”
“Probably.” He sighed again. “I just realized something. This is going to be interesting to explain, if they start asking questions….”
“Then I would figure out an answer to tell them, if I were you. Perhaps something to do with phoenixes? They do tend to renew themselves after a number of years.”
“That could work, utilizing the energy of a phoenix through thaumaturgy to revitalize someone.” Hammer Strike hummed as he put on his coat, noting how the sleeves had become too short before moving toward the airlock. “That’d potentially work.”
“Though I trust you have no intention of actually trying said feat.”
“...Right, yeah, I wouldn’t,” Hammer Strike replied as he exited the medical cube.
“You know I can tell when order is disturbed, including with your conscience, right?” Harmony deadpanned.
“Of course,” Hammer Strike replied with a faint grin. “But you made the contract, and that means you get to stick with me.” He chuckled as he made his way topside.
“True. Let’s hope I don’t regret it the next few centuries.” She smirked and followed behind.
“Celestia, Luna, Yharon,” Hammer Strike called out as he entered the house proper. “I miss anything important?”
“You mean other than another delegation of Earth Ponies coming to join the community?” Celestia asked. “One of them has a … curious quirk. They seem frightened of the slightest perceived disturbance to the point of screaming, then fainting.”
“We first discovered this when she saw me,” Yharon noted dryly as he dug at an ear with one of his claws. “My head is still ringing.”
“Sounds about right.” Hammer Strike sighed. “It’s been a few hours since I went down there, right?”
“Three and a half, give or take,” Luna noted.
“Better than expected.” Hammer Strike hummed. “I suppose I should prepare my next lesson with Clover. If anything comes up, I’ll be in my study.”
“Yes, Sir.” Yharon nodded, then yawned. “Anyone else feeling a little tired?”
“Can’t say that I am. Though something does feel odd.” Celestia tapped her chin with a wingtip. “I can’t quite put my hoof on it.”
“Did he look different to you?” Luna asked.
“He looked relaxed,” Yharon said. “Other than that, … I’m not sure.”
“I suppose we can ask him at dinner,” Celestia noted. “At best, he’ll tell us the truth. At worst, he’ll tell us to leave it alone and accept that if he did something, it’s fine.”
“That … does seem to be how he normally operates,” Yharon agreed.
“In the meantime, how about a sparring match to wake you up, brother?” Luna smirked, and Yharon gulped.
The air was solemn as Anderson stood before the pulpit of the congregation. The pews were silent, the many Ponies riveted as the Gryphon took a drink from a flask, then sighed.
“Brothers and sisters of Unity, it’s with a sad heart that I stand before you lot today. I stand before you, because I have heard of those who seek to spread the good word of Faust to their neighbors in our community. And that desire is a good one. But such desires should not be allowed to cloud our judgement, nor drive us to blows.
“Aye, word has reached me of conflict between our neighbors. Betwixt Pegasi and Unicorn. Between Earth Pony and Pegasus. And between Earth Pony and Unicorn. It’s even gone so far as to pull some Gryphons into the fray.”
He peered intently at the parishioners, never singling out any particular individual, but making sure that each held his attention, and that he held theirs in turn. “Many here believe Faust to be a divine matron and mother; flawless, perfect in every way. And it’s good to think so. What child doesn’t think the world of its mother when she shows such love and care? Why wouldn’t that child wish to show that same love to their friends, to adopt them, to unite them as a whole?” Anderson laid his talons on either side of the pulpit and braced himself. “But as children grow and learn, they inevitably come to know more of the world, of its cruelties, of its realities. The dream is stripped away, and as they learn, they come to see that the world they knew and the beliefs they held may not have been entirely true. As many of us who have faced the hardships of life have learned, our parents are not perfect. No mother or father ever is. So it is with every family. And so it is with the gods.”
A low murmur rose up from the congregation.
“As you all know, I am a Gryphon. I was raised in the traditions and beliefs of my forebears under the Winds, gods who did and do exist just as much as Faust or Sleipnir. Now, there is a tale in our history that many of you children may not know. Perhaps some of you have heard of it in your … discussions.”
Some of the mares and stallions flinched at the word, and Anderson continued.
“Our race, the race of the Gryphon, has been around for a very long time. We came into being long before you lot were conceived. It’s why we call ourselves the second born, because Faust created us after the Alicorns.
“And like any mother, Faust took great care in our making. It is not entirely clear how she crafted each of us. Whether from stardust, the earth, the sky. We don’t know. What we do know, however, is that at some point, the great god Sleipnir offered a single hair from his own mane to contribute to the making. And it is because of this hair that we as a people carry such warlike tendencies. Our instinct tells us to hunt, to prey, to dominate. And in those early days, we did so with reckless abandon, as any child is wont to do with their initial instincts. Whether it be to suckle, to cry, to yank at the mane, to cast magic wantonly, to conjure wind storms and eddies with a few beats of our wings. Each of us has these phases through which we must pass. And our parents must weather the storm of these phases as they teach us the proper way.”
Anderson’s head drooped as his glasses flashed. “Unfortunately, our mother Faust was not an experienced parent at the time. And when she saw us act in accordance with those impulses, she was filled not with patience or understanding, but an overwhelming horror. Whether it was that she believed we could not be taught or simply that she was afraid to hurt us, or perhaps some other reason we have not yet conceived, we do not know. What is known to us is that she chose to abandon us, we, her second born, to face those instincts alone with neither hand nor hoof nor wing nor horn to guide.
“We Gryphons were monsters back then: primal, uncivilized, lost. Until our cries of sorrow and wrath were finally heard. And shortly after, they were answered. Five voices answered. Five voices called. And five voices claimed.
“From the north arose the mighty Wind of Wrath with its cold wintry breath. He tempered our people’s rage into a tool for us to control, and provided the harsh discipline we required to keep us in check and force us to grow.
“From the east came the Wind of Knowledge, whose vast stores gave us the tools necessary to craft the beginnings of a nation and civilization with laws and order to govern.
“From the south came the gentle Wind of Love, whose soft caress gave us the succor we had been denied by our first mother. She taught us the value of caring for our own, for respecting the bonds of family and friendship, and the chance to respect other life, even if we proved superior to it.
“From the west came the Wind of Competition. He taught us how to settle conflicts between ourselves without going to war. He turned our drive for dominance into the fuel that would propel us to become better and stronger than our fellow created. We would endure the tedium of study, the rigors of labor, and find joy in the thrilling excitement of competition and the hunt.
“And last of all, the fifth Wind, the Immutable Aspect, the Keeper of Balance, Gatekeeper of Life and Death. This Wind taught the Gryphons the value of life, the sacred nature of blood, and the heavy burden that came with shedding it without cause or reason. It taught us the importance of avoiding depleting our hunting grounds, and the necessity to acknowledge the sapience of other races, no matter how crude they may appear, because they too were born from nothing, and they too had a role to play in the eternal cycle that the fifth Wind represented.
“Without these five gods, we would not stand before you today. We would have destroyed ourselves long ago. And to deny their involvement would be to deny the existence of any god, for even Faust herself acknowledges their existence.” The pulpit creaked under the force of Anderson’s grip as his talons dug into the wood. “This abandonment is why many of the Gryphons you encounter today refuse to convert. Our mother abandoned us. And she weeps with regret at that choice. But she cannot take back her decision, just as we cannot take back our own actions, nor the consequences that stem from them.
“My reasons for converting are my own. But there are few, if any other Gryphons that will give her the chance to be their mother again. And before any of you go and say this couldn’t possibly have happened, you should know one of the reasons I converted is because I heard her apology. I saw her regret. I was shown the kindness of her children, you children. And she begged me to help you lot stay on the path, not for her sake, but for yours. That’s what I’m doing now with this sermon. So, I’m going to be real with you for a moment and let you see just a hint of what I show the heathens that dare to strike out against the innocent of our Mother’s flock.” He grinned, baring his teeth as the light reflected off his glasses and he drew himself up to his full height. “And I carry a warning. Death will come on swift wings to whoever dares disturb the peace. Our Mother wants the harmony we showed united against the vampire scourge, against the wicked forces of the Pegasi that sought to murder and plunder for their own selfish aims. She wants that same vigilance against those who believe themselves to be higher and mightier than their fellows.”
He withdrew a single silver throwing knife from his robe. “It is the sacred duty of myself and all those who walk my path with me to punish the demon, the heretic, and the false god. Also, any daft cunts that might be part of that.” He threw the knife with expert accuracy at one of the walls. Its shaft vibrated ominously. “So, in short, if you want to teach and discuss religion, that’s fine. But the moment you go trying to start a crusade or force someone else to agree with you, if the contract you bound yourselves to doesn’t kill you, I will. And I’ll have Faust’s blessing while I do it.” He lowered himself and relaxed his predatory pose, then smiled peacefully at the congregation. “So, I’m glad we got that settled. See you lot at the next sermon. Also, if any of you are interested, I’m holding a basic course on certain aspects of monster hunting and self-preservation techniques you can use against the lesser creatures of the night. You’ll find the flyers waiting on either side of the door on your way out. Looking forward to seeing you there.” He smiled beatifically and raised his arms and wings in benediction. “Faust bless and keep you all.”
The congregation was sober as they departed, and Heinkel calmly removed the knife from the wall to return to her tutor and mentor. “I think they got the message.”
Anderson sighed. “Doesn’t make it any easier. I hate having to use fear. And I’ve still got another three sermons to go.”
“Shall I get you more brandy?”
“That … might actually help, yes. And Heinkel?”
“Yes?”
“Bring a whole barrel.”
“... Yes, Father Anderson.”
Hammer Strike stood at the head of the meeting table. Before him stood everyone in the inner circle: Clover, Ainz, Binding, Hurricane, Lord, and those Hammer Strike had cleared to join with them.
“I’ve called this meeting to instate a new method of dealing with currency, rather than just lumps of gold weighed out haphazardly.”
“I wondered when we would get around to that,” Binding noted. “Which system have you chosen to go with?”
Hammer Strike lifted a golden square plate up for the group to see. “Slates. Nice and simple, and…” He turned the slate over to reveal the number five on the back. “Weighted and marked appropriately.”
“All gold?” Clover asked
“Correct,” Hammer Strike replied with a grin as he placed it on the table and proceeded to slide one out to each council member.
“Last I checked, you thought gold was, and I quote, ‘So entirely bucking useless, it’s not even funny. It just looks pretty,’” Clover commented.
“Yes, but most societies are using it for currency. So, unless you want a currency that only works here…” Hammer Strike sighed.
“Unity also has more gold ore available than most areas,” Clover countered. “Wouldn’t this make outside currencies worth significantly less by default?”
“That’s why we have to manage the currency flow, to keep things at a leveled rate without … breaking anything outside of Unity.”
“So, your plan is to introduce these slates in order to lessen the amount of gold creatures need to carry?”
“To assist in its carry capacity and storage capacity,” Hammer Strike explained.
“How will we introduce these, then?” Ainz asked.
“That’s the trick.” Hammer Strike sighed. “It’ll most likely be introduced through our bank/treasury to civilians as time progresses.”
“Which reminds me, we really do need to see about getting a proper head of treasury for Unity,” Binding said.
“Finding someone for the job is the trick.” Hammer Strike hummed. “I wonder if Yharon would be up for expanding his knowledge in a different direction….”
“Would he be able to resist his species’ traditional hoard lust?” Binding asked.
“He’s not a standard Dragon,” Hammer Strike reminded. “His instincts are different than a scaled dragon. From what I’ve been able to gather, while he has some urge to collect, it’s not a hoard instinct.”
“If he can develop the necessary skill set, I have no objections,” Binding replied. “What does the rest of the council think?”
“It seems acceptable,” Ainz said.
Clover nodded.
“I suppose,” Hurricane added.
“It is reasonable,” Lord said.
“I’ll bring this up with him when I see him.” Hammer Strike nodded. “This should help clear up civilians’ bags and assist them in future endeavors. Beyond that, we’ve also got a new business starting up, surprisingly. A local brewery.”
“Branching out from wine, are we?” Clover laughed.
“Who’s the Pony in charge of it?” Binding asked.
“Barrel Rider,” Hammer Strike replied simply. “You pulled him in sometime a few months back. His family’s just now looking into starting it up.”
“I hadn’t noticed any hopps farms.” Clover shrugged.
“They’ve been checking around and gathering for the time being. Seeds and supplies. They’re starting to get everything rolling, though, so production will likely begin within the next few months.”
“Well, that will bring business to the tavern.” She chuckled.
“Definitely.”
“Would be nice to see about getting honeyed mead again,” Clover said. “Wine is too fancy for my tastes.”
“Saves me from having to make it.” Hammer Strike wilted slightly at the comment. “I’ve only got so much time to dedicate to it.”
Binding looked knowingly at Hammer Strike and Clover, but said nothing on the matter as he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and smiled. “That’s one more advantage we’ll be able to have over the other groups. The higher quality we produce, the more dominance we’ll be able to demonstrate from an economic standpoint.”
“You realize at this point we’re going to be drawing more attention than we already do,” Ainz noted.
“There’s no point in hiding ourselves anymore. It’s time to expand and ensure everyone under us prosper from it. We’ll, of course, keep our secrets. But beyond that, we’re already a target. There’s no point in attempting to hide our expansion,” Hammer Strike said.
“Would this have something to do with the correspondence you’ve been sending out to Cookie?” Clover asked.
“Based off the outlook of their civilian votes, they … want to basically be absorbed into Unity.” Hammer Strike sighed. “We’ll see how things go and work on that afterward.”
“Have they all agreed to be bound by the contract?” Binding asked.
“The vote isn’t complete yet, but it appears that almost everyone is in agreement.”
Binding sighed. “I’ll get to work on the necessary expansion in the archives. How many more are we expecting?”
“If they all agree to the terms, roughly eight thousand.”
“... Clover, I may require your assistance,” Binding said.
“What do you need me to do?”
“I may require some more of those spatial manipulation charms to create the extra space in the next filing cabinet.”
Clover nodded. “I’ll get to work on them right away.”
Hammer Strike had not had a chance to visit the so-called “Adventurers’ Guild” since he’d put the land aside for it. The building was a large squarish structure painted a light blue with Adventurers’ Guild on a sign in the front. Inside, visitors found themselves in a wide open front area. Near the back of it was a desk where guild associates would handle business, be it handling paperwork, paying out for completed jobs, or taking contracts for new jobs. Signs clearly stating prices were visible at the desk, and at a few places on the walls. A passage behind the desks led to the offices were bureaucrats and officials would do their thing to keep things moving forward. Jobs would be judged and assigned priority. Prices would be decided. And the guild’s fee would be deducted upon payment.
The rest of the open area was basically a large lounge set in two levels. The first level was set with simple wooden tables and benches. There was a kitchen and bar nearby that would sell food and drinks, as well as supplies if need be. This first level would be for travelers looking for simple jobs or for small-time monster hunters looking to make quick cash.
The upper level was more finely decorated. Comfy chairs and couches had been placed around. There was a kitchen and bar up here as well, but it offered a slightly nicer fare at a discounted rate for those taking the more dangerous jobs. Hunters on the second level would need to be invited or have the appropriate tag to ascend the stairway.
As to be expected, available jobs and contracts would be displayed on both levels with the upper level displaying more dangerous tasks, both actively broadcast Unity’s ever-constant bounty on vampires, as well as a notice to not touch the undead found directly outside the city. There was also a notice for the practice tomb.
The practice tomb was a brilliant collaboration between Ainz and Hammer Strike, a small arena-like underground cavern that would produce monsters of various types for rookies to fight in a controlled and relatively safe environment.
The building was still new as Hammer Strike looked it over. The front was still unstaffed, and only the guildmaster was currently on duty.
To Hammer Strike’s surprise, Jostling Joyance had turned down the guildmaster job when it was offered three years earlier. The vampire hunter admitted he still had a target to hunt, and set out soon after, but not before offering Hammer Strike the name of someone he felt would be a reliable substitute.
Speedy Wagon was a surprisingly strong built pegasus with a butter-yellow coat. He had a long golden mane of wild hair and wore a purple suit with a green cravat and a bowler hat. Hammer Strike was … doubtful on their first meeting, but Speedy Wagon was proving to be well versed in both monster lore and business. When Hammer Strike opened the door to his office, he found him looking through resumes.
“Any good recruits for the guild?” Hammer Strike asked.
“A few. Just trying to narrow it down,” the Pegasus said. He pointed a quill at one pile. “Front desk.” Then he pointed to another. “Backroom.” And finally the last. “Kitchen staff.”
“You seem to have your work cut out for you.” Hammer Strike chuckled. “But, Jostling spoke highly of you.”
Speedy Wagon chuckled in return. “He would. Rarely has a bad thing to say about anybody, that one.”
“Fair point. But there is a difference between saying positive things about someone and praising them.”
“Anyway, I’ve sent out a few messages to friends in the business in other areas, and took the liberty of having some signs made for nearby towns,” Speedy said. “I think we should have plenty of business coming in soon.”
“That’ll certainly prove useful.” Hammer Strike hummed as he glanced over the resumes. “Considering all the reports I’ve been hearing about our surroundings, this place is bound to get quite some use.”
“Most nobles only hire hunters when they’re desperate. Otherwise, they just lock up their personal assets behind walls and doors and hope it’s enough. I hope this idea catches on.”
“As noted, considering our environment and the … minor power gap I may or may not have left behind, there will certainly be business.”
“We might actually be able to push them back.” Speedy Wagon chuckled. “Get them to work together for once.”
“We’ll see how things go from here, yeah?”
“Yes, we will.”
“Hammer Strike,” Ainz’s voice reported through their connection, “your guest seems to be waking up.”
“The Changeling?” Hammer Strike questioned.
“Yes.”
“I’ll be there shortly.” Hammer Strike frowned as he placed his equipment down. He had been curious as to the reason this changeling had been kept alive. Sure, he was beaten nearly to death, but he was kept alive in the end. Why would the vampires have done such a thing?
It didn’t take long for Hammer Strike to arrive at Ainz’s place of operation. “All right, Ainz, where’s he located?”
Ainz led Hammer Strike through the tomb to a small room that looked somewhat strange by comparison, being a standard white colour and containing actual medical equipment which would have little use to a place full of undead. The Changeling lay on a nearby gurney. A single shackle had been placed around his right forhoof, but otherwise he was unbound.
He looked around with glossy faceted eyes blinking several times.
“You’ll have to forgive the shackle. Safety and all that.” Hammer Strike sighed. “I don’t know your current standing with the other Pony tribes, but you’re safe, so long as you aren’t hostile. And yes, we can tell, even if you try to hide it.”
“Where am I?” he asked slowly as he continued to blink.
“Unity, if you know where that is. If you don’t, we’re basically in between all three Pony nations. Though that’s soon to change.”
“The vampires?” he asked as his eyes widened. The memories were slowly returning to their host.
“Most of them are dealt with, including their leader. Their coven is scattered and broken. You’re safe here.”
“That's comforting,” he said. “I am Ki—” His face fell as he corrected himself. “Former King Bane of the Hercules Beetle Clan. I … suppose they must have got me pretty good. How long have I been out?”
“You’ve been out for a number of years, at least five.”
“They must have really let me have it, then.” He gave a dry chuckle.
“Beaten to a pulp, and yet they let you stay alive in some manner. Though, some questions do arise from this new information.” Hammer Strike hummed to himself.
“Well, ask what you will. I'll answer what I can, but I won’t lie.”
“The big question I have is the king part. I don’t have too much knowledge on Changelings, but I honestly have never heard of a king Changeling.”
“I don’t think you will hear of another for a long time,” Bane said sadly. “You could say i’m the last. My strain has been repressed. And as far as I’m able to tell, I’m the only survivor of the queens’ purge.”
“Purge?”
“You obviously are aware of the queen strain. I’d surmise you know about their control over the hivemind and the physical form of the changelings in the hive. Originally, we kings existed as their counterpart. Our job was to prevent total suppression within the hives, control how much free will the drones had.” He took a deep breath. “About a century ago, the queens decided they no longer wanted a check on their power. The king and prince strain was made severely recessive to the point its chances of surfacing ended up one in the billions. Then, over time, living prince and king strain Changelings like myself were singled out and killed. I barely escaped my hive with my life.”
“Only to be captured by that Elder Vampire.” Hammer Strike frowned.
“I imagine, given my regeneration, he thought of me as a conveniently nigh-endless blood source.” Bane shrugged. “I tried to escape, but, well, that's what led to the state you found me in.”
“Had to have made some ground if they beat you that badly.”
Ban smiled weakly. “I almost got away. Had I had another hour before the sun set, they wouldn’t have found me after they woke up.”
Hammer Strike hummed in thought. “Well, they’re unlikely to get their way into Unity. Even if they do breach the walls, we’ve got plenty of charms, sigils, and a crazy enough priest to fight them hand to hand.”
“With my wounds healed as they are, I imagine i could get away from them anyway,” Bane said. “My … skill set lends itself to stealth and information gathering. It’s how I escaped my hive. I made myself a non-person.”
“Certainly a useful set of skills.” Hammer Strike frowned. “Something we’re lacking in as well,” he commented over his connection to Ainz.
“Thank you for your kindness,” Bane said. “I know my race has done little to earn it from Ponies, but I do appreciate it all the same.”
“We don’t judge by species here in Unity, unlike a majority of the Pony civilizations currently. We saved what living we could from the vampires’ keep and offered citizenship for those who could be saved.”
“Well, if I can be of service—” The changeling let out a small cough. “—Once I’m healed, please don’t be afraid to ask.”
“I’ll make you a deal. If you’re truly that good at gathering intel, once you are healed, I have some tasks I would like to assign you. If you’re willing to join Unity, that is.”
“Can I give you my answer later? There is … a lot to take in.”
“No worries. If you have any concerns, Ainz will be capable of contacting me.”
The former king nodded tiredly. “Thank you.”
Chancellor Puddinghead peered over the stacks of papers she’d dropped onto the table in the council chamber. “So, these here are the names of all the Ponies that voted to join Unity. As you can see, the vast majority of us agree this is the next logical step to take, given the strength you’ve demonstrated previously and the distinct lack of defenses we have against the other tribes.”
“This is going to make things interesting…” Hammer Strike sighed as he looked over everything.
“As in a big headache for you and that stallion with the glasses?”
“I … don’t exactly run things like you do,” Hammer Strike noted. “Not only is it a change in who’s in charge, but a change in how the system works.”
“And you think we’re not going to be able to change?”
“Not that you won’t, but that it’s going to be an interesting challenge, especially to manage. I might have to get some individuals to assist me in keeping tabs.”
“Like a local guard?”
“That, too.” Hammer Strike tapped his hoof as he thought it over. “The equivalent of managers to watch over sections of the lands, report back to me for items and other required provisions, increase of the guard to watch over the borders…” He muttered aloud as he thought over everything.
“And I’ll need to bind every single one of them to Hammer Strike and his contracts,” Binding added. “That will take time to process.”
Puddinghead shrugged. “Not really. If there’s one thing we’re good at, it’s organizing. We can probably finish signing those contracts of yours in one day, provided you can give us the paper and the whole magic part doesn’t take too long.”
“I’ve never worked with this many Ponies at once. I may be able to try a group binding, but certainly not for that large of a number at once.”
“How many can you do together?”
“Reasonably? Probably something along the lines of a group of ten to twenty at a time.”
“Then that’s how we’ll do it. I’ll oversee the line, and you bring the magic mojo.”
“I’ve got an idea.” Hammer Strike turned to the side. “Lord, are you there?”
“I can be.”
“Do you think you could manage replicating a magical contract made by Binding?”
“Easily.”
“I’m going to need you to come by, then.”
There was no effect. Lord was just suddenly standing in the room.
“Binding, I’ll need you to show Lord the contract. Make sure everything is nice and squared away, and we can get this done at a nice reasonable pace.”
“I always have spares. Give me a moment, and I’ll retrieve one.” He disappeared in a flash of light, then returned a minute or two later, panting for breath as he laid the contract on the table.
Lord picked it up with a hoof and in front of him a circular rift of total darkness formed, he placed the contract inside it.
“How many?”
“Roughly eight thousand,” Hammer Strike replied.
Lord removed his hooves from the rift and gestured to an open area of the chamber. The rift widened as it moved to the ground, then began to rise slowly, revealing multiple stacks of paper forming a cube roughly four feet high.
Binding gaped at the sight. “Transmutation on that large of a scale, using the air around us and the contract as a base form?” His horn glowed briefly, and the stacks reciprocated. “You even replicated my magical signature!”
“I have access to resources much farther beyond that of mortal-born spellcasters,” Lord said simply.
“Clearly. Is it safe for me to analyze them in greater detail?” He eyed the rift warily.
“The contracts are fine,” Lord said. With a shift of his hoof, the rift vanished. “They are no different than if they had been written out by your hoof.”
“Incredible. Simply incredible,” Binding said as he picked up a sheet and carefully examined the material.
“Why do I get the feeling he’s not going to be very talkative for the next while?” Puddinghead asked.
“Plenty to examine,” Hammer Strike replied. “I’ll look into preparing a cart to travel between the cities to get these dealt with.”
“Was that everything?” Lord asked.
“That should be. Thank you, Lord.”
With that, Lord vanished, just like he’d appeared.
“So, are you coming to us or do you want us to come to you?” Puddinghead asked.
“We’ll come to each settlement. Makes life easier on everyone.”
Puddinghead nodded. “I’ll make sure to let them know to expect you.” She pulled out a map and smacked it on the table. “This’ll give you the approximate location of each of our settlements. Just make sure you try to keep it to Earth Ponies in your escort. Folks are still a might skittish after everything they’ve been through.”
“Wait your saying Ponies actually believe we sang carols in that cave?” Clover laughed. Currently, she and Hammer Strike were alone at his large wooden table. Through some means, Clover had actually procured some mead and had insisted on sharing a drink with him. “That is just hilarious.”
“It’s sure sounding like it.” Hammer Strike smiled. “Everyone always has their own take on events they’ve heard of.”
“We were half crazed with hypothermia and probably just a bit water drunk at the time. We spent most of the time seeing who could make Private Pansy blush a deeper shade of red. Dirty jokes, limericks, shanties. You name it, we did it.”
Hammer Strike chuckled. “Being on Death’s door would do that,” he commented before glancing off to the side and shaking his head.
“Yeah, I'm surprised the commander didn’t try to set them straight, but I guess Ponies need hope.” She took a long pull. “I’ve heard murmurs they want to set up a holiday. Can you believe that? What would they call it, ‘The day of the six Ponies who got Lucky’?”
Hammer Strike hummed as he looked over to her before it dawned on him. “Oh, yeah, they … yeah.” He rubbed the side of his head. “Yeah, I don’t have a cover story for that.”
Clover narrowed her gaze. “What aren’t you telling me, Hammer Strike?”
“Ex divinia etiam, there’s so much I don’t talk about.” He sighed, then looked Clover in the eyes again. After a moment, he took a breath and plunged. “Do you want complete honesty?”
“I think if any of it involves me, I have a right to know,” she countered.
“I mean, technically, you are around then, so fair enough.” Hammer Strike shrugged to himself. “How do I put this…?” He hummed. “I’m not exactly from here.”
“That much, I gathered. You’re not exactly the common Pony.”
“I’m not from this period of time,” Hammer Strike elaborated. “Technically, I’m kinda scattered about the timeline. The Doctor sure finds that ‘fun,’ I can promise you that.”
“So, you come from the past? The future?”
“Future. I’d give it a rough estimate of … three thousand or so years.” Hammer Strike sighed as he took a drink.
Clover gave a low whistle. “That's a long time to be displaced.”
“Displaced by the Alicorn Empire.” He frowned. “Ripped from friends and family, then tortured for seven years.” His eyes dimmed for a second before returning to their standard brightness.
“If it’s too painful to talk about…” Clover started.
“No, it’s fine,” he insisted. “I’ve long since quelled that hatred and pain. It just takes me a moment to … adjust to those memories when I dig them up.”
“So then, how am I alive three thousand years in the future?”
“Mostly because you end up with a … ‘slight’ jump into the future due to events out of your control. I can’t say too much or the paranoia kicks in.” He paused. “For you, not me,” he clarified. “Just know that you’re fine.”
“And in this future, Ponies celebrate a holiday based around a random act of magic?”
“To put it as simply as possible, it’s a gentle story of the beginning of everyone unifying together. Which appears to be my doing….”
“Is there anything I should be aware of?”
“Well, you aren’t dead, and you work for me still. Funny enough, considering I’ll have no recollection of this.” He blinked. “Jeez, now that I think about it, you get to see me in my younger days, without the augments.”
“Augments?” Clover cocked her head in confusion. “You’ve mentioned them before. What are they?”
“I’m sure you’ve realized Pony eyes don’t glow.” He chuckled as he shifted the color of his eyes to green. “Or change color. The Alicorn Empire was an advanced civilization. Way too advanced for their own good. Augments are machines, both science and magical in nature, that are implanted into you to ‘enhance’ yourself. Those seven years of torture I mentioned were them implanting roughly….” He took his time to run the calculations himself, rather than letting the augments tell him. “Some, twenty-five into me? When most test subjects would die after… one. Two if they were lucky.”
“That ... that sounds like it was terrible.”
“It certainly was.” Hammer Strike’s eyes shifted back to blue. “Imagine someone screaming in your head, and multiply it by at least twenty-five. I could hear each augment in my head telling me what they were reporting.” He sighed. “Thankfully, I was given something that deafens it, keeps it quiet for me to manage, unless I want to hear it.”
Clover nursed her drink and frowned. “They really were monsters, then, huh?”
“They certainly were.” He looked her dead in the eyes. “And you know what? Only eight of them didn’t deserve to die.”
“And how many of those eight survived?”
“That I know about? None. I took Celestia and Luna to the mainland, where we were all supposed to meet, but … their parents never made it. I’m the closest thing they have to a father.” He gave a gentle smile. “Closest thing I’ve had to daughters as well.”
“That's why you're so close.” Clover nodded. “You’ve been through a lot.”
“Yeah.” He nodded slowly. “I miss them all. My friends and wife, too.”
“Just one?” She chuckled. “I figured someone like you had a whole herd waiting for him.”
Hammer Strike chuckled. “No, no. Most of them are out for money and power. She was the only one who didn’t seek either.”
“Well, good to hear she has taste.” Clover smiled and took another drink. “I do hope she’ll be okay with what we’ve been up to.”
“She told me once that she didn’t mind as long as it was genuine.” He chuckled. “Ex Divinia etiam, I can hear the others, Grif especially. ‘Good for him. Someone’s got to keep him from working to death.’”
“And what are your thoughts on this … thing we’ve started?”
“Honestly? I’ve felt alone. Ever since I was pulled back to this period of time, I’ve felt alone, like nobody was there at my side. Celestia and Luna were growing up as I tried to press on, assuring them that everything would be fine. I don’t feel that anymore.”
Clover actually blushed from those words. “I-I honestly haven’t had a lot of experience with relationships before, but if you’re up for it, I’d like to see where this could go.”
A gentle smile curved the Earth Pony’s lips. “I wouldn’t mind in the slightest.”
Twilight gaped at the monitor. “Clover?”
“And my Strikey Wikey? Oh, I think I’m going to faint.” Rarity swooned on her hooves and fell into a pile of pillows quickly levitated into the area by Vital Spark.
“Well, that explains a lot,” Vital said. “She’s been holding back for a long time. It must have been torture for her.”
“It wasn’t her Hammer Strike,” Grif said. “Celestia and Luna have probably been holding back a lot, too.”
“True. And they’ve been doing it longer than Clover, considering when they discovered the start of your guys’ timeline,” Vital agreed.
“Only question is how deep this well runs.” Grif shrugged.
“Oh, this is going to be fun. I’m sure they’ll be so happy that the timelines have finally caught up,” Pensword added.
“Regardless, it’s clear we have two facts to look at here. First, Hammer Strike is clearly the real founder of Unity, and thus Equestria as a whole. Second, that Clover is likely going to become his wife, and quite possibly the mother to his children. That could have interesting ramifications in the long run,” Vital noted.
“Ramifications?” Grif chuckled. “Vital, this has all already happened. Whatever ramifications there are, they already happened.”
“I’m referring to potential descendents in our time, Grif.”
“Yes, which will be fun as all hell to track, since most family trees can only trace back to the end of the Discordian era, in case you forgot.”
“I’m still guessing we may need to put some people on it.”
Pensword cleared his throat. “I’ll ask Dakota when we get back to the present. Family and family tree lines are very important. And this will be something I can help with. You all know that was my specialty before we came to Equestria, after all.”
Twilight nodded. “I’ll take you up on that offer, Pensword. I’m sure we can make some inquiries together. And maybe I can perform a form of dowsing to help the search. If we can get ahold of items that represent the two of them symbolically together, it might help us to locate them without records.”
“Twilight, I want you to think about what said items would be involved with and then tell me if you really want to get close to anything like that.” Grif chuckled.
“... I was referring to a sample like their hairs. The unique fusion of those kinds of magical auras is bound to leave a specific imprint in the bloodline.”
Grif shrugged. “If you think it will work.”
“Only one way to find out.”
With that line of questioning exhausted, Grif turned his attention to the mare that was most impacted by this revelation. “Are you okay, Rarity?”
“Just … just processing,” Rarity said shakily. “All this talk of children and descendents. If that does happen, then that means I’m going to be a grandmother. I haven’t even been a mother yet!”
“I’m guessing she’ll figure it out,” Vital said. He watched as she swooned into the cushions again. “... After she finishes her freakout. Speaking of which, Doctor, would you happen to have a supply of ice cream handy in your kitchen?”
“Do you have any idea how expensive that is to restock?” he balked.
Derpy promptly pouted and smacked him with a wing.
The Doctor sighed and finally relented. “Fine. Yes, it’s in the freezer. Can’t miss the signs.”
Vital nodded. “Thank you. I’m certain something cold, creamy, and chocolatey will go a long way toward helping Rarity recover.”
“With chocolate chips, darling,” Rarity warbled as she waved a feeble hoof.
Vital nodded and turned toward the door to the kitchen. “As the queen commands,” he murmured. He chuckled to himself. “After all, this is my job.”
A lone Earth Pony entered Hammer Strike’s living room under tight guard and sat in a chair while tea and cake was offered. Both were politely refused, though the new arrival was willing to accept a glass of water.
Yharon strode out of the kitchen with a refill and cocked his head critically at the Pony. “You know, you can probably drop the glamour now. Father’s got this place warded more tightly than Platinum’s treasury.”
The image of the Earth Pony flickered briefly, and was soon replaced by a heavily built Unicorn in sturdy leather armor. The Drakenfeller crest had been imprinted on both sides of the breastplate. “You have a good eye. I’m curious. What gave me away?”
Yharon shrugged. “I just have a higher sensitivity to the flow of mana in the area surrounding me. It didn’t take me long to put two and two together.” He planted himself on a chair opposite the Unicorn and stretched. “Father should be here soon. If you’re here, the news can’t be good.”
“That depends on how you interpret it.” The soldier frowned. “But yes, regardless of the way you look, there are still causes for alarm.”
“So,” Hammer Strike walked into the room. “Someone was here for me?”
The Unicorn rose and nodded respectfully to the Earth Pony. “Baron Strike. I come bearing news from my lord.”
“He never comes with good news.” Hammer Strike sighed. “All right, what’s going on this time around?”
“To put it as succinctly as possible, the Pegasi are proposing an alliance with various noble factions in the Unicorn kingdom, including Princess Platinum.”
“They’re trying to gather forces?”
“Given the unique prowess you and your forces have demonstrated both magically and strategically, the two parties appear willing to give up their rivalry for the sake of seizing your land, … and the Ponies that work it.”
Hammer Strike sighed. “If the foolish wish to die for such a false purpose, then I have no choice but to deal with them as such.”
“If you are able to overcome these forces, it is possible that you may be able to gain Princess Platinum’s ear for the service of thinning out those who oppose her rule. Should that prove true, my lord wishes that I forward an invitation to introduce you to the princess in the event you desire to open relations with her.”
“It’s not a matter of ‘if’ I can overcome their forces. It’s a matter of when,” Hammer Strike replied flatly. “If they truly wish to do this song and dance again, I will have to take matters into my own hooves this time around.” His eyebrows furrowed as the brightness of his eyes intensified.
“I will tell my lord you have said as much. Is there any other message you wish me to relay?”
“Nothing at the moment.”
The messenger rose from his chair. “Then I will return immediately and leave you to your preparations.”
“Until our next meeting,” Hammer Strike nodded.
“Farewell.” He bowed his head first in acknowledgement to Hammer Strike, and then to Yharon. Finally, he went to the door. His frame flickered briefly as his horn disappeared and his disguise returned. And then he was gone.
Yharon sighed. “Must we always fight?”
“Strife follows everyone, everywhere.” Hammer Strike frowned. “Greed is a driving force.”
“I wish it didn’t have to be. But I suppose it is what it is. Do you want me to get word to Hurricane?”
“Yeah, it’s probably for the best.”
“All right. I’ll see about telling Aunt Clover about it on the way back, too.” Yharon nodded and leaped off his chair. “I needed to run a couple of errands, anyway.”
Celestia paced fretfully outside the council chamber, waiting for the most recent meeting to end. The air rang with the rap of her hoofsteps as she counted point after point in her head. The pros, the cons, and the overall likelihood of achieving her goal. Surprisingly enough, attempting to calculate that particular factor proved the distraction she needed to wait out the rest of the meeting. After all, Hammer Strike played into the equation, and that was always an unknowable variable with all manner of potential permutations.
Though some of the outcomes left the mare’s stomach churning all the more.
At last, the chambers opened, and Unity’s council emerged. Ainz had left by his usual methods, since many in Unity were still somewhat wary of him, and he preferred to spend his time studying in private. Binding, Commander Hurricane, Chancellor Puddinghead, and certain representatives from Unity’s population emerged next. With the increase in population came the need for representatives to stand for the people and bring any complaints or requests to Hammer Strike directly. Each nodded their acknowledgement as they filed past her. Finally, Hammer Strike and Clover emerged together. It was now or never.
“Father, I need to talk with you.”
Hammer Strike looked towards Celestia for a moment before nodding. “We’ll talk more later. All right, Clover?”
“That's fine. You two go ahead. I need to look over some tomes anyway.” And with that, the Unicorn teleported away.
Celestia followed her foster father into the room and nodded as she took a seat. “Father, do you remember when we first started our journey here?”
“Hard to forget something like that.” Hammer Strike took a seat across from her. “Why do you bring that up?”
“Well, because of the things Luna and I were able to learn on that trip. We were afraid, but there were so many incredible things we were able to see as a result. Towers encrusted with rubies and diamonds, towns and cities full of creatures we had only ever seen in notes or books, cultures that we had no idea could exist in the first place. And, well, Father, I … I suppose I miss that to an extent. I love being here with everyone, helping the city grow, teaching new techniques to the Earth Ponies from Mother’s notes, but … I just don’t quite feel right about staying here. Aside from teaching some of the younger Ponies and Gryphons, there’s not a lot that I can do. And I want the chance to be able to learn again on my own, to experience things in real life, rather than watching a reaction in a moving picture.” She sighed. “Father, I’d like to ask permission to leave for a while. I’ll come back. I promise that. But….” She looked away and left the comment hanging between them.
“... Could you delay going for a week?” Hammer Strike asked as he rubbed the side of his jaw in thought. “I have no objections besides that. Well, that and stay away from the Gryphon settlements.”
“You mean it?” Celestia gaped at Hammer Strike. “You’re actually going to let me go?”
“Celestia, dear, you’re well over twenty now. I’m sure you can handle yourself.” He smiled gently. “I may be protective, but … sometimes you just have to explore, see the world for what you can, broaden your horizons, all that stuff. I’d just like you to delay leaving by a week.”
“Is there a particular reason why you chose that time, specifically?”
“I personally need time to prepare something.” He smiled. “That, and to give you a route that isn’t going to have Pegasi on the warpath.”
Celestia couldn’t help but smirk a little. “Afraid I can’t handle myself, Father?” she asked playfully.
“And here I thought your sister was the bloodthirsty one.” Hammer Strike smirked back. “Yes, you can handle yourself, but I’d prefer to have as little death as possible in situations like this.”
Celestia smiled, circled the table, and hugged her father with her wings. “Thank you.”
Hammer Strike chuckled and returned the hug. “Get your supplies ready. I’ve got some things to gather, myself.”
Celestia nodded. “Of course, Father. I’ll see you later tonight.”
“Until then.”
Hammer Strike stood in his forge, staring at a list of materials in front of him. He hummed aloud as he worked through several ideas in his head. Classic steel, celestial bronze, eclipsed steel, mythril, he could even use some cobalt if he figured out a good weapon type for it.
“What is this?” Luna asked as she approached him slowly.
“Material list, generally everything that I have in stock, apart from … really special materials.”
“Have a special project in mind?”
“Two weapons, actually,” Hammer Strike replied with a small smile. “One for your sister, and one for you. Real weapons, non-standard.”
“Really?” Luna seemed a bit surprised. “Actual weapons made by you?”
“Yep. So, what brings you down here? I figured you already got your practice in earlier.”
“I wanted to show you something I've been working on for a few years now.”
“Few years?” Hammer Strike turned his attention towards her.
Luna produced an ingot of a dark blue metal Hammer Strike hadn’t seen since coming to the past. Lunar steel. “I’ve created a new metal.”
Hammer Strike took hold of the ingot and inspected it. “Now that’s certainly interesting,” he commented.
“Not as interesting as what I made it from.”
“Literal moonlight?” Hammer Strike asked as he continued to inspect the ingot.
“How—” Luna was dumbfounded.
“I can feel it,” Hammer Strike commented, covering his trail. “It irradiates purities similar to moonlight.”
“Well—well, yes, it’s made from moonlight. I’ve been working on the process for a long time. It takes a lot of energy.”
“What type of focus are you using?”
“My horn,” Luna admitted. “It’s relatively new magic, from what I can tell.”
“You … you don’t have a focus for concentrating it?” Hammer Strike asked with some surprise.
“A focus, by the current laws of magic, would need to be able to absorb the moonlight and focus it,” Luna noted. “I don’t think crystal or glass has the correct properties.”
Hammer Strike hummed for a moment as he thought something over. “Come closer for a second.”
Luna did as he asked.
Thaumic energy surrounded Hammer Strike’s hooves and eyes as he studied her magic for a moment before looking to the ingot. Then he took a shaving off it before focusing it into a thaumic crystal. Afterward, he looked to Luna and began tethering her magic signature to the crystal to give her a more solid connection to shifting it from ethereal to physical.
After a minute, the thaumic energy released, and he looked to the decent-sized crystal in his hoof. “Try this next time. I can’t personally test or use it, but it should work,” he commented as he offered the crystal to Luna.
“I—thank you, Father,” Luna said, taking the crystal. “I’ll test it tonight.”
“Hopefully, it’ll work well.” Hammer Strike smiled. Then he looked to the ingot before weighing the options in his head. “Mind if I keep this ingot, or at least half of it?”
“Take the whole thing.” Luna smiled. “If this works, I should be able to make plenty more.”
“Then I think I have an idea for your weapon.” He smirked as he looked to the ingot once more.
“Don’t tell me. I want it to be a surprise.” She smiled.
Hammer Strike chuckled. “Simple enough.”
Hammer Strike smiled as he set the table for dinner. It was a minor celebration to see Celestia off. He had gathered a collection of foods and drinks from multiple ethnic origins, even purchasing some imported wines for the occasion.
The dining room had been decked out in style with an ornately woven tablecloth and cheerful floating lights courtesy of Clover. Having never been ones for finery, rather than crystal goblets, simple cups and steins waited by the plates and cutlery. The bread was fresh and steaming, the fish light and flaky. Fruits and vegetables both dried and fresh provided a lush buffet while various dishes like stuffed cabbage rolls and rare flora provided that extra sense of mystery to the banquet. There was no end to the permutations of meats and vegetables available to the family.
“You really did all of this for me?” Celestia asked as she took in the spread and the beaming faces of her family.
“Well, you’re certainly going to miss the good food on the road, so I figured, why not?” Hammer Strike chuckled.
Celestia smiled. “Are we sure Father isn’t sick?” Then she giggled. “But seriously, Father. Thank you. Thank you, all.”
Clover smiled. “We’ll miss you, celestia. Don’t stay away too long.”
“And so, for the occasion, I gathered a few new pieces.” Hammer Strike took hold of his cup. “Imported a few wines that I figured are worth a try.”
“I thought you said you didn’t like wine, Father,” Yharon said.
“It’s not my favorite, but I didn’t say I hate it,” Hammer Strike countered before taking a drink. He lowered the cup and frowned as he looked to it and took another drink. “Well, that’s a shame.”
“Something the matter?” Celestia asked.
“I’d suggest everyone pour out their wine.” Hammer Strike sighed. “I’ll have to talk with the shopkeeps later, but yeah, has a distinct taste of poison.”
“Poison?” The room rang with the shock of the other occupants.
“Yeah.” Hammer Strike took another drink. “It leaves a metallic aftertaste as well.”
“And you’re still drinking it?” Celestia balked.
“I mean, it tastes a bit better with it, to be honest.” Hammer Strike shrugged. “Not like it’ll kill me.”
“Last I checked, poison was supposed to do just that, wasn’t it?” Yharon asked. “What makes you immune?”
“A lot of things,” Hammer Strike replied honestly. “My field of power and magic, augments, you name it. It’s probably somewhere on that list.”
“I think the more worrying prospect,” Luna noted, “is who poisoned the wine.”
“It was imported to Unity, so it was either a bottle in circulation that we just happened to get or someone was just trying to import it here.” Hammer Strike sighed. “I’ll have to make a system to check goods quickly to avoid poisons for the general populace. I also need to...” He looked off to the side. “Lord, I need you to investigate the market in Unity for any more poisoned goods.”
“I’ll get right on it,” the devil promised.
Hammer Strike turned back to the selection of food and drink available to them and scanned each of them thaumically. “It appears that it was only that bottle of wine.” He hummed. “The rest is fine.”
“We’re going to have to vet future tradesponies, aren’t we?” Celestia asked.
“We’ll see how it goes.” Hammer Strike sighed before looking up with a smile. “But we’ll talk about that later. Right now, it’s a celebration before you set off.”
“So, what's this all about? You having a party and you didn’t invite me?” Cayde asked as he walked in, taking Hammer Strike’s stein and taking a drink. “Huh, weird. Kinda got a bit of a metallic taste there.”
“That is probably because of the foreign substance that’s been added to the mixture,” Zavala said pointedly as he entered the room. “Our apologies for the disturbance, but we wished to add our own well wishes to the mistress.”
Ikora followed behind shortly after, closing the door behind her.
“Well, I suppose now might be a time.” Hammer Strike hummed as thaumic energy surrounded his hoof. Next to Celestia and Luna, two wrapped objects appeared. “Something I believe you’ll both be happy with.
Celestia unwrapped a gladius short sword. The handle was made of highly polished bronze that seemed to shine brightly in the low light. The sheath was white as her coat in comparison. When she drew it, she found the blade entirely made of bright steel. Sunburn had been written across the hilt in Alicorn.
Luna unwrapped a mace made of her own lunar steel. The handle was wrapped in black leather with a thong at the end of it. The head had been pockmarked with what looked like craters like the ones on the moon. Crater Face was inscribed once again in Alicorn along the neck. Luna’s eyes widened with giddy joy as she swung the mace experimentally.
“I made them as reinforced as possible, meaning it’ll be incredibly difficult to wear them down or break them.” Hammer Strike smiled. “Yharon, yours is going to take a little bit longer, since we still need to figure out the weapon type that’s best for you.”
“It’s beautiful,” Celestia said in a hushed voice. The surrounding lights caused the blade to glow as she held it. “You really think we’re ready?”
Hammer Strike nodded.
“A new weapon to protect you on your travels.” Zavala nodded approvingly, then frowned. “I still wish you would let one of us accompany you.”
“But that would defeat the purpose of the journey.” Celestia smiled sadly. “You’ve watched us grow so much over the years, Zavala, but now a new generation needs that protection. Would you keep their light for me while I’m gone?”
Zavala was silent for a time as he looked intently at the mare. Then he nodded gravely. “As you wish.”
“Besides, I need you and Icora to help with training, and Cayde for reconnaissance and stealth,” Hammer Strike added. “When the poison fails, our enemy will likely try to strike directly. I’d prefer to know what they have planned and have a means to counter it.”
“And who I need to shoot?” Cayde asked.
“Close enough.” Hammer Strike shrugged.
“All right, enough talking shop. This is a celebration. Now let’s eat!” Clover said. And that was the end of that discussion.
Hammer Strike hummed to himself as he sorted through a list of weapons that Yharon would be capable of using. Based on his size and potential growth, it wouldn’t last too long, but it would still serve him for some time. “Perhaps a greatsword…” he muttered to himself.
For a moment, things felt suddenly … strange. The world tilted and a terrible tremor shook the ground before the world righted itself. The majority of his tools remained on their hooks, though a few had fallen to the ground. The likelihood of an earthquake seemed remote, given the structure of the land and the mining he’d performed previously. That meant one of two things. Either this was an attack of some kind or something very big just happened to crash nearby. Regardless, it would warrant his investigation.
Hammer Strike sighed as he exited his workshop and made his way to the surface. Taking a look around, he noted a small pillar of smoke rising from a nearby spot behind his house. He sighed once again and waved off the approaching guards, letting them know things would be fine. He rounded the corner to find an interesting sight.
The TARDIS was smoking. Its lightbulb was shattered, the housing twisted and torn. Black soot marks coated the surface at various intervals, and the doors had swung open to give vent to the gases inside the great machine. An elderly Unicorn with a shoulder-length gray mane and a golden waistcoat covered by a suit jacket shook his head sadly as he assessed the damage to the exterior. A spry young mare in a sweater vest patted the stallion consolingly on the back.
“Well, Doctor, I’d say things have been better, haven’t they?” Hammer Strike asked as he drew near.
The stallion seemed to start at hearing this. “Yes,” he mused as he wrung a scarf between his hooves. “Yes, I suppose so. Forgive me, but I don’t always do this the right way. You are...?”
“Hammer Strike,” he replied looking over the Doctor. “Is this … the first time we’ve met?”
“The first time I'm aware of,” the Doctor said curiously.
“Grandfather, if you’ve already met this Pony before, then that means this situation can’t be hopeless. Surely, the TARDIS can be repaired.”
“Without our sensors to locate the requisite materials, assuming this world even has the facilities we require for such an endeavor?”
“But surely it couldn’t hurt to try,” the mare insisted.
“I could certainly assist you in that regard,” Hammer Strike commented.
“I mean, it’s not entirely up to us, is it?” the Doctor noted.
“Shall I take a look?”
“And how would you know how to work with a Type 40 TARDIS?”
“I’ve got my methods,” Hammer Strike replied as he made his way inside the ship. The fumes that vented openly from the console did nothing to bother him. His thaumic field acted to purge the gases easily. The many circles that dotted the blank white expanse of the chamber had been cracked or shattered. The console’s wiring had been fused, its circuits blown, and several panels reduced to little more than so much slag. An ornate wooden armchair had been tossed onto its back while a single metal light fixture shaped more like a bird’s cage sat forlornly on the floor. The few statues that decorated the walls had been broken apart by several impacts with the floor and other parts of the ship, as evidenced by the many scuff marks and scratches left behind. Multiple viewing monitors had been blown open, with just one barely functioning with a jumping loop of dates, times, and locations.
“Jeez, Doctor, what did you run through?” Hammer Strike questioned.
“A paradox on top of a supernova.”
“What, the internal protective field was disabled or something?” Hammer Strike frowned as he looked over the wiring. His augments were working overtime to decipher the Tardis. While tedious in his mind, it was working. Slowly. “You even broke the auto-repair module.”
“It wasn’t on purpose.”
“I’d hope not.” Hammer Strike frowned. Thaumic fire covered his hoof as he reached out to his side. A small rift opened as he reached in and pulled out a box. Placing it next to him, he pulled out an assortment of tools. “Let’s see what we’ve got going,” he muttered.
“How are you doing that?”
“Thaumaturgy, magic, stuff like that.” Hammer Strike pulled out a small meter and started to prod ports and read it. “I … should be able to get some parts working, hopefully enough to get the auto-repair kicked on.”
“You can actually do it?” The Doctor asked incredulously.
Hammer Strike glanced at The Doctor. “Sorry, right, you don’t really know me at this point in your life. Well, when you’re older, you’ll get to understand that I’m … not quite normal compared to most of society.”
The doctor looked to his granddaughter. “Is that what I seem like?”
“Well, … not quite so sternly as you say it, but it does remind me of you.”
Hammer Strike rolled his eyes. “Never thought I’d see the day. In any case, I need space to work.” He gestured toward the exit. “Take a tour of Unity. We’ve just finished our current expansion and have a selection of locations to visit, including a library. Might be a bit out of date for you, Doctor, but I’m sure you can find something interesting.”
“You’re sending me away? From my TARDIS?”
“Yes,” Hammer Strike replied with a gentle smile. “Though, I mean, technically her being yours is almost backwards at times,” he muttered, glancing over to the center console.
“Grandfather,” the mare said gently as she pulled his sleeve. “Let him work. There’s not much we can do at the moment.”
“I suppose you’re right.” The stallion deflated. He patted the side of the machine. “Don’t worry. We’ll be back.”
Hammer Strike sighed as he watched the two leave before letting out a heavy sigh. Turning towards the center console, he placed a hoof down. “He certainly got you into a big mess, didn’t he?” He gave a soft smile as he pulled out an assortment of wiring tools and began rewiring the Tardis. His augments were thankfully able to help clear up which part went where, and his ability to forcibly shape things helped him reform anything altered due to physical trauma or otherwise.
He hummed softly as he continued to work out several bent plates of metal. It would take a while. That much, he was certain of. The issue he dealt with, however, was getting the repair module up and running. The only problem was he could only locate one part of the module.
He frowned to himself as a strange presence popped up on his radar. Looking over to the door, it was still closed, and he was certain it hadn’t been opened since he got to work. Scanning over the Tardis, he found nobody within besides himself, and said presence was beginning to grow in intensity.
His augments were spitting out data that made no sense to him as static filled his ears. He groaned and placed a hoof on the side of his head. “Ex Divinia etiam,” he muttered before turning to the center console. “Sorry, you’ll have to wait. Gods, it feels like an augment just broke or something.”
He stood from his spot and started to move toward the door before his augments suddenly cut out. He fell forward as consciousness escaped him.
He wasn’t sure how long he was out, but based off the fact that the Doctor had yet to return, it most likely wasn’t that long. Light filtered in as he opened his eyes once more. His augments had gone quiet, as per usual, and the major presence was gone.
“Hello, sleepyhead.” The voice was pleasant, chipper, and feminine. “Welcome back.”
“Hello?” Hammer Strike stood up and glanced around. It took him a moment to note the fact that the voice wasn’t coming from around him, but it almost felt like it was in his head, and it certainly wasn’t Harmony. “Who am I speaking to?”
“Have you really forgotten me after all the time we’ve spent together? Or I suppose will spend together. Time is funny that way.”
“...TARDIS?” Hammer Strike asked.
“Ah, yes, Time and Relative Dimension in Space. That’s right. Words are funny.”
“Well, I don’t have a name for you besides that,” Hammer Strike replied. “How … exactly are we talking?”
“Well, my Doctor called me the most beautiful thing he’d ever known, but that’s just flattery. I suppose TARDIS will have to work for now. Or old girl, provided you use that in the proper sense of the term. A woman never likes talking about her age, after all. As for the talking, you plan to restore my matrix and help me repair and refurbish my control room for this iteration. It seemed only fair that I return the favor, so you don’t make a complete muckup of it. I do love my Doctor, but he can be terribly helpless with the finer details of my anatomy. All this time, and he still hasn't realized he leaves the parking brake on.”
“Yeah, that explains the grinding noise.” Hammer Strike sighed.
“Truthfully, I think he enjoys it for the sake of making a grand entrance.” The voice giggled in his head briefly, then cut off. “All right. Time to get down to business. I’m going to beam you the information you need on a telepathic wavelength that will work with your implants and the modifications I’ve made to help you incorporate the knowledge. And mind when you get to my console. I’m rather … ticklish, I believe is what you organics call it.”
“Well, this certainly is going to make things interesting,” Hammer Strike commented as said information started to spring forth in his mind. After a few minutes of collecting his thoughts, he got to work, starting with the main console for the repair module.
After a few minutes of rewiring, he began humming to himself once more, moving things around, ensuring he kept his tools close, and above all else, making sure he didn’t wire things incorrectly. “So, what exactly did he put you through to get you into this state? It looks like it was more than a paradox and a supernova. Your external shielding should be capable of handling most of that impact, and your repair module would have handled the rest.”
“Let’s just say that my age was showing. I believe you would call it a stroke. Or at least, that’s the closest term I can find in your vocabulary for what happened to my systems while we flew through that.”
“So, a hiccup in the middle of those events.” Hammer Strike hummed.
“Yes.”
“I suppose that would make things worse.” He sighed.
“But not irreparable. I can and will live much longer than this.”
“Well, I figured as much.” Hammer Strike chuckled.
“And we’ve now reached the point in the conversation where you discuss making a deal with me. I believe you call it a pact or … covenant?”
“What?” Hammer Strike questioned.
“I believe the term is a favor for a favor?”
“I still don’t get what you’re going on about.” Hammer Strike shrugged as he continued his work.
Some of the gears in the console spun, followed by a high-pitched whistle to vent the TARDIS’ frustration. “You know that I help you later down the road. Why do you think it is that I always appear right when you need me?”
“I’d say lucky guess, but that’s not how things work.” Hammer Strike hummed. “I assume you’re saying we make a deal. The whole, if I need you or the Doctor, you come, and vice versa?”
“Finally!” The voice in his head sighed. “Honestly, you two are good for each other. And my Doctor does need the occasional blow to his ego. He gets insufferable when he’s right all the time.”
“Fair enough.” Hammer Strike hummed. “I mean, yeah, I have no issues with the assistance.”
“Good. Then let him think he’s indebted to you. He technically is, but we both know you need to hit him over the head with it sometimes to get him to actually help.”
“Sounds good.” Hammer Strike looked over the circuits in front of him. “All right, one down … five more to go.”
Two hours later, The Doctor pulled open the door. He stopped short as he looked around. The tardis looked like new. “Well now, I haven't seen her like this in a while.”
“Is this how she looked when you first took her?” his granddaughter asked.
“Actually, my dear, she’s in better shape now than when I first took her.”
“But … how does that make sense? Wouldn’t she have looked her best when you first saw her?”
“Because I’m a perfectionist,” Hammer Strike called out from within. Upon opening the door fully, it revealed the pristine interior. Hammer Strike stood near the center console, placing his tools away in his container. “Partially, at least.”
“You forget, my dear, she was already very old when I met her.” The doctor laughed.
“Well, a little TLC wouldn’t hurt every now and then, Doc,” Hammer Strike commented with a smirk.
“I’ll keep it in mind.” The Doctor nodded.
“I hope so, because that was an absolute nightmare.” Hammer Strike sighed. “She’ll be fine, but if you don’t give her a little care, you might end up in a worse situation next time. The only thing that she’s suffering with is that you blew out her chameleon circuit, and I don’t exactly have a replacement on hoof, so I hope you’re fine with a blue police box.”
“Well, that will complicate things.”
“Could be worse.” Hammer Strike shrugged. “All right, Doctor, I’d say that wraps up the repairs. I’ll put it on your tab.”
“I—thank you?”
“What? I couldn’t exactly let you walk scot-free out of here.” Hammer Strike’s eyes focused on the stallion. “Without proper maintenance, you caused her some serious harm.”
“I suppose I'll owe you a favor.”
“Don’t worry.” Hammer Strike made his way past the Doctor. “I’ll let you know when that debt’s settled.”
“Hammer Strike! I wanted to get your opinion on this—” Clover had just turned the corner and seemed unable to continue as she examined the area.
“What’s up?”
“I was going to ask your opinion on a new spell matrix. What is this?”
“The TARDIS, with The Doctor inside.” Hammer Strike took a step to the side, revealing the interior. “Hey, Doc, you’ve got a visitor who’s been wanting to meet you,” he called.
“And who might that be?” The Doctor asked, walking up while his granddaughter continued to examine the ship’s interior.
“Clover, meet The Doctor. Doctor, meet Clover.” Hammer Strike gestured between the two of them.
“Pleasure, my dear,” The Doctor offered.
“Wait, The Doctor? As in The Doctor in the blue box?” Clover asked Hammer Strike.
Hammer Strike looked to the TARDIS, the Doctor, then back to Clover. “No, The Doctor with the blue police box.”
“Police box?”
Hammer Strike directed her attention to the words atop the Tardis. “Police box,” he confirmed.
“Huh,” Clover said. “Well, it’s an honor to meet you, Sir. My mentor has told me a lot about you.”
“Your mentor?”
“Star Swirl the Bearded?”
“Ah. Well, my dear, you see, I haven’t met him yet. I don't always meet people the proper way, you see.”
“That’s fascinating.” Clover smiled. “Perhaps i could ask you a few questions?”
“Perhaps another time, my dear. Unfortunately, I do need to be going.”
Clover sighed her disappointment. “Very well, but do look me up next time you’re in the area.”
“I will most assuredly do so. Now, if you don’t mind, we really must be off.”
Hammer Strike watched as The Doctor entered the TARDIS and closed the door behind him. “Hope you don’t mind waiting,” he commented to Clover.
“I’ve got time to wait.” She shrugged.
“Good, because sometimes,” a whirring noise filled the air. “He takes his time…” He frowned. “I should have warned him about the parking brake, but… eh, it’s fine.”
Clover’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Parking brake?”
“Okay, so Hammer Strike repaired the TARDIS. That … actually explains a lot about why she likes him so much,” Vital Spark said.
“Also why you owe him.” Grif smiled at The Doctor.
“Oh, that's only … part of it,” The Doctor admitted.
“What, did he have to save the universe for you or something, too?” Vital asked.
“Not quite, but, well, you’ll likely see,” The Doctor said, slightly embarrassed.
“Why did the image skip?” Pensword asked.
“She probably just skipped over the technical things to keep it from being boring,” The Doctor said.
“Does it ever take you that long when you’re running diagnostics and tuning her up?” Vital asked.
“Depends. She was fairly badly damaged at the time,” The Doctor noted.
“And I make sure he takes better care of her, since she lets us live in her,” Derpy noted.
“I think I finally see why Clover laughed about my computer,” Twilight said.
“Yeah, kinda surprised you didn’t put that together sooner, Twilight,” Vital noted.
“It is rather exciting, isn’t it?” Rarity said. “Though I wonder how this would have measured up to the Alicorns in their prime.” Then she frowned. “Frankly, I’m glad they never had the opportunity to compare. I hate to think what they could have done with technology like this.”
“They wouldn’t have had the chance. The TARDIS wouldn’t have let them, even if they tried,” Vital replied. “And I doubt she’d allow the risk in the first place.”
“Full armies haven’t been able to force their way past those doors,” Grif said, signaling said doors.
“And they never will,” the Doctor said testily. “Now can we please change to another subject?”
Twilight smiled. “Okay. How about you tell us how you and the TARDIS met?”
“Ooh, I love this story!” Derpy crowed. “I’ll get the muffins!”
The Doctor gaped after her for a moment, then sighed. “She’s going to keep nagging until I tell you, so I suppose I might as well.” Derpy returned almost as quickly as Rainbow Dash, much to the Doctor’s dismay when the sound of several crashes carried back from the halls. He sighed resignedly, then cleared his throat. “All right, you lot. Here is the story of how I became a Time Lord and met my TARDIS.”
The sun was setting over the summer clouds when the jingle of bells heralded Star Swirl’s return. His stride was slow and his gaze downcast as he approached Unity. On the plus side, the place had continued to grow and develop with glaziers, woodworkers, and other crafts that had been incorporated with the addition of the Earth Pony tribe. A real economy had taken shape, and with it came a greater sense of normalcy. The Unicorn marveled at the heavy development that had occurred in his years on the road trying to broker a peace. The settlement had developed into such a large city that he had no choice but to ask directions to reach Hammer Strike’s house. At last, he reached the door and knocked wearily.
“One moment,” Hammer Strike called from within. After a few seconds, he opened the door and looked over the stallion with some curiosity. “Star Swirl? To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“I come bearing a message from Queen Platinum.” Bags weighed heavily under the old Unicorn’s eyes as he looked at the Earth Pony. “May I come in?”
Hammer Strike gave a nod as he stepped to the side, allowing entry. “Though I have no room to ask, have you been getting proper rest?”
Star Swirl smiled. “When you get as old as I am, you get used to feeling tired. You just feel it more keenly when certain headaches arise. But I suppose you would know a great deal about that already,” he noted as he settled heavily into a chair and sighed in relief. “Though speaking growing old, you look like you’ve hardly aged a day.”
“I age like metal. Slow,” Hammer Strike replied. “Honestly, though, I’m pretty sure I’m older than you.”
Star Swirl raised a skeptical brow. “I don’t know whether to take that as truth or interpret it as sarcasm.” He sighed and leaned back in his chair. “Either way, I suppose I should offer my report on my attempts with the Unicorns and Pegasi. Then I’ll give you the message.”
“The Pegasi are preparing for war again, aren’t they?”
“Those who still aren’t willing to accept the idea of living peacefully under you or coexisting. I managed to forward some few your way. I’m afraid others weren’t so lucky. The wilds can be very harsh, especially with the shadows running roughshod over the other territories. And that’s not even counting the nobles in the Unicorn courts.” He sputtered and shook his head in frustration. “Ignoramuses, the lot of them.”
Hammer Strike sighed. “If only it were so easy to sway the opinions of others.”
“If it were, we’d be dealing with a world of empires that topple every other month.” Star Swirl chuckled humorlessly. “But enough dwelling on the negatives. Degrading though it may be to be reduced to the role of a messenger, it was unlikely your guard would have allowed anyone else claiming to bear such a message through in the first place. His horn glowed, and a gilded scroll appeared in the air between the two.
Hammer Strike took hold of the scroll and unfurled it.
To King Hammer Strike, newly crowned Lord of the Earth Pony tribe and the Free State of Unity.
First off, I send you my deepest congratulations and regards for the conquest of the former federation of “Earth.” How is Puddinghead? I sincerely hope things are well for her and that the transition was smooth. It is also my hope that we may have a prosperous and mutually beneficial relationship going forward. I do hope you do not hold the recent actions of certain nobles as the views of the court. I assure you the individuals have been summarily banished for their actions. Rest assured any Unicorns coming with military might toward you are not of my sending, nor do they have my support.
I hope we might begin a mutual correspondence when time allows.
HRM
Queen Platnium.
“Delightful,” Hammer Strike commented, before sighing.
Star Swirl sighed in resignation. “What blunder did she make now?”
“It’s just a simple letter covering her assets in case some other Unicorn nobles come by looking for trouble,” Hammer Strike explained.
“You mean to tell me she actually managed to compose something that wasn’t deliberately provocative or offensive? By Faust, she really can learn.”
“Wow, aren’t you just radiating faith in your leader.”
“I’m one of the most powerful Unicorns in the kingdom. That allows me a certain amount of freedom to criticize more openly without reproach.”
“Hey, she’s your leader.” Hammer Strike shrugged.
“You are a leader. Hurricane is a leader. Her father was a leader. Platinum is a spoiled brat who’s finally realizing for the first time that she can’t always get what she wants and that the governed have more power and authority than she thinks. The fact she managed to pen this letter means she has some small potential to grow. But whether that will come to fruition before it’s too late is something I’d rather not gamble over.”
“We can only see how things go from here.” Hammer Strike sighed. “That, and prepare for anything.”
“On that, we are agreed. By the way, congratulations on destroying that vampire. That one act alone freed a great deal more land for the other nobles to squabble over. That’s probably why you haven’t heard from many of them of late.”
“Good thing I already collected everything worthwhile from there.” Hammer Strike smirked.
“Everything?”
“Everything.”
“How is that even remotely possible? You can’t just pluck out all the gems and minerals from the ground, can you?”
“I’ve got a special team for that part.”
Nearby, familiar black flames shot up as Ainz walked through. “Hammer Strike, good. I found you. I need to ask you a question about the tomb.”
“What in the nine hells—?” Star Swirl leapt to his hooves and ignited his horn. “Who were you and what business do you have with Hammer Strike, lich?”
Ainz chuckled at the stallion’s words as he approached Hammer Strike, completely ignoring the wizard. “I’m going to be expanding downwards, and I wanted your approval before i got started.”
“As long as all the materials are deposited correctly, and the clearing team isn’t below, you’re good to go,” Hammer Strike replied.
“Good to … good to go?” Star Swirl sputtered in outrage. “Hammer Strike, you are aware that you are housing what is perhaps one of the greatest magical menaces to walk these lands, simply out of the sheer potential they demonstrate to destroy and corrupt in their twisted research efforts!”
“Yeah,” Hammer Strike replied simply.
“I haven’t hurt anyone without reason,” Ainz stated.
“Whose reason?” Star Swirl challenged.
“Mine.” Hammer Strike spoke up. “You know how liches … how do I put this, attach themselves to a higher power to continue their ascent?”
“Because it doesn’t need to be a divine connection or of a deity in any nature.” Hammer Strike hummed as he thought over his way of explaining it. “To put it simply, you just need someone on a much higher level than standard.”
“And?”
“So you can understand it.” Hammer Strike sighed. “Hi, I’m the one who made him like this. By his request.”
In a rush of black flames, the mask and gloves vanished from Ainz’s body. The robe opened of its own accord, showing off his skeletal chest and the pulsing red orb within it.
Star Swirl gaped at Hammer Strike. “You did what?”
“I made a lich,” Hammer Strike replied flatly. “I work on both sides of the coin, for there is no way to work only one side indefinitely. The gods above granted me a method of ensuring everyone who seeks to fight for Unity a way of fighting creatures outside their realm of potential while I worked on the lower end of things, ensuring that I had a perfect understanding of how each of them work, and in turn, an ally to further my studies.”
The light on Star Swirl’s horn sputtered and faded. “How is that even possible? You’re no god. You’re not even a demigod.”
“Because I don’t have to be.” Hammer Strike grinned. “I just have to push the rules of magic and reality, and work on that edge until I can no longer.”
“And you haven’t done anything to the citizens or travelers?” Star Swirl asked as he turned his attention to the undead in question.
“Only to Hammer Strike’s enemies,” Ainz said.
“This is highly irregular,” Star Swirl said. “Next thing, you’re going to tell me you have an archdemon in thrall.”
“Negative, Archdevils are more accurate,” Hammer Strike replied, shaking his head. “Got to get that right. It’s probably offensive to them. Asmodeus is pretty interesting, though.”
“You … you ... what?”
“Let me put this simply, Star Swirl.” Hammer Strike’s eyes brightened as he looked to the stallion. “I’ve spent countless years understanding the world around us. Arcane, light, dark, Hell. I haven’t gotten anything on Heaven yet, but Death assures me it can be boring. Light and dark mean nothing. To deal with the threats that stand before us all, you sometimes need a monster.”
“That well may be, Hammer Strike, but there are some lines a Pony simply shouldn’t cross. And how did you even have the opportunity to visit Hell?”
“That elder vampire sent me there to try and be rid of me, so I had to take a tour through all the levels to get out. Asmodeus likes his order.”
“And that means what?”
“That being sent there incorrectly disrupts order, so he has to set it straight.”
“And he gave you an archdevil as recompense?”
“Gave me an offer for anything I wanted, but I couldn’t think of anything, so, yeah. Lord’s pretty nice to have around.”
Star Swirl’s face became ashen. “I … think I need to lie down.”
“Couch is open, so have at it. I need to look into my next project, anyway,” Hammer Strike commented as he stood up. “I think Rem’s around here somewhere, if you need me for something.”
“Rem?”
“She works for Lord.” Hammer Strike looked to the side. “Rem, are you currently in here?”
“Yes, Master Strike. You called?” The blue-haired Pony appeared seemingly out of nowhere.
“I was just checking in on where you were,” Hammer Strike clarified. “Sorry to interrupt you.”
“Your needs are always more important. Though, if I may be so bold, have you considered using the communication spell Master Ainz has designed. It’s vastly more effective.”
“I have another method of communicating with you all. I was just checking if you were in the house. If not, I would have done something else.”
“And how may I be of service?”
“If Star Swirl takes up my offer, if he needs my attention, could you direct him to me? I have to get back to work.”
Rem nodded. “Of course, Master Strike.” She curtseyed and directed her attention to the elderly stallion. “If you require anything, you need only call my name and ask.”
Star Swirl gaped, then cleared his throat. “Yes, well, thank you. That is … very kind.”
“Now, Star Swirl, get some rest, all right?” Hammer Strike turned his devastating gaze on Star Swirl. “Or I’ll knock you out, so you can.”
Hammer Strike frowned to himself as he collected his equipment. The populace were preparing themselves as well, going over important information and covering all their assets. The guard started a more strict rotation, keeping every angle of Unity in check. Other towns under Hammer Strike had also been placed on alert, ensuring that enough guards were distributed across the land accordingly.
While it was different than expected, Hammer Strike had ensured that the entirety of forces were spread evenly, rather than collectively, ensuring that there were no weak points in their defense.
As for his devices to suppress Pegasi magic, he was satisfied to hear that all of them had been planted accordingly. While they wouldn’t cover everywhere, they would cover the towns, which was most important to him. With Clover having a thaumic field as well, he had taught her the process, and in turn, the two of them had worked a week straight on finishing them all up.
“Such interesting weapons you make,” a deep male voice said.
Hammer Strike sighed. He was starting to get used to unexpected interruptions. Turning towards the source of the voice, he found a large stallion standing in his forge. He wore tarnished bloodstained armor covered with the signs of battle and wore a horned helmet that covered his face completely with eyes that glowed red beneath it. On his back, a huge spiked battle mace rested, still dripping ethereal blood.
“Another embodiment.” Hammer Strike sighed. “You guys need to learn to knock or something.”
“Why would I knock? I’m always at your doorstep.”
“So you all are.” Hammer Strike sighed as he turned back to his equipment. “I’m sorry to say, but I don’t know which embodiment you are.”
“It should be obvious, given what you were just working on,” the embodiment growled. “I am War! The great and glorious!”
“Delightful.” Hammer Strike continued to tinker with his weapons.
“It certainly is.” War laughed.
“Now, is there any particular reason you’re here, or is it just because of war on the horizon?”
“Why should I not visit the largest patron of my art?”
“Because I’d prefer not to deal with this.” Hammer Strike glanced over to War.
“We both know war is where you shine,” War said.
“Yes, but that doesn’t mean I enjoy it.”
“Some part of you does,” War pressed.
“Is there something you need, War?” Hammer Strike questioned flatly. “If not, we’re done here. I’ve got work to do.”
“Yes, work in my name.” War chuckled. “I’m simply visiting a patron of my art.”
“Do not attempt to tie me to you,” Hammer Strike had fully turned his attention to the embodiment now.
“Attempt nothing. You’re already tied to me.” War laughed.
Hammer Strike reached over, grabbing War by his neck before pulling him down to his level. “Keep. To yourself. Understood?”
“What are you doing?” War attempted to struggle.
“I’m giving you a warning,” Hammer Strike growled. “I despise you, and what follows you. Useless death because of headstrong individuals who would rather die than take a better path. Do not attempt to claim I am your patron. Though I may engage in this, I’d rather be rid of you entirely.” He finished his edict by shoving the embodiment back before turning back to his work.
War’s eyes rolled unsteadily in his head at the shock of someone actually being able to touch him. He said nothing more. The pride was gone. Instead, he vanished, leaving Hammer Strike to care for himself.
“I expected more.” Hammer Strike shook his head before returning to his preparations.
“War always was a haughty blowhard.” Harmony smirked as she materialized. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen that look on his face before.”
“I don’t think anyone’s interacted with him physically before.” Hammer Strike hummed.
“You do have a tendency to throw out the rulebook when it comes to us, don’t you?”
“Well, it’s certainly not hard to manage.” Hammer Strike smirked in response.
Harmony giggled. “Cheeky.”
“Are you getting a similar effect like last time we prepared for war? Though now, there’s certainly a lot more…”
“I’ve been fed steadily for a long time, Hammer Strike. Their unity hasn’t faltered. Your contracts have helped see to that, as has the common desire among them to end the cycle that has been perpetuated among them for so many centuries. Whether there is war or not, that sense of order and harmony between them will remain.”
“Good.”
The stone beneath the winding shafts reverberated with the heavy steps of Ainz’s bony hooves. His undead hordes worked tirelessly to carve, shape, polish, and brace the passages. After so many years in service to Hammer Strike, the lair had gained a great deal more space. Floor after floor had been prepared with pitfalls, mimics, teleportation sigils, shock runes, and all manner of other countermeasures for a variety of creatures. And as a secondary failsafe, the lich had even gone so far as to incorporate holy magic in the event of an opposing undead force breaking through in search of his phylactery.
He sighed as he gestured with a hand to open two grand double doors. White walls lined with a delicate black filigree and dark wood accents offset the black marble pillars and floor. A massive round white table with a golden band circling a silvery marble center sported a black insignia that looked much like a sword framed by either two skeletal hands or a series of warped candles. Its circumference had been lined with a number of red silk upholstered chairs. His gift from Hammer Strike hovered patiently in an alcove, awaiting its master’s touch.
The hall was grand, truly a testament to his might, power, and skill with magic.
But it was also empty.
Ainz waved a hand, bringing a book to float before him. In it, names were listed of various beings he’d met on his journeys, each a gifted mind in areas of magic most would consider to be … socially taboo. Many were once Ponies or Gryphons or numerous other races, and had given up their natural form for power. Even now, he was still unsure if their own corruptions could be pushed back enough by Hammer Strike’s oaths.
Still, he had Hammer Strike’s blessing to try. Could he manage it? Bring them here and then force their souls out of the grasp of dark gods and petty demons to give them back to their original owners? Was the reward worth the risk?
Ainz gave another wave, and quill and parchment lept to action. They began to write the first of many missives, missives explaining the situation and the opportunities to be found in Unity. The requirements and what was expected of them were clearly detailed, so there was no confusion.
Ainz had an army.
Now he needed officers.
“Hurricane,” Hammer Strike called out as he made his way onto the wall. “What’s our current status?”
“They’re sending everything they have left,” Hurricane said. “I think you may have pissed them off.”
“Then it’s time I do some work personally.” Hammer Strike sighed. “When the first assault comes, I’ll be heading out. Ainz has given me a report on where their higher ups are stationed.”
“Going to decapitate the snake?”
“I’ve grown tired of this song and dance.” Hammer Strike looked out onto Unity. “It brings nothing but needless death.”
“On that, we agree.” Hurricane nodded. “Send them my regards.”
“Will do,” Hammer Strike turned toward the horizon. “Now, it’s only a matter of time.”
The Pegasi knew Hammer Strike would try to take them down again, so rather than fly, they came with siege weapons. The heavy catapults and trebuchets unleashed a deadly rain from a distance, causing rocks and boulders to fling at and over the walls. The Unicorns were ready for the assault, and cast in unison on Clover’s command. The barrier they raised created a protective dome over the city and the infrastructure. On top of this, many priests and priestesses under Anderson had come out to offer their services with divine blessings and prayers of restoration to help bolster the ranks when mana became strained.
From the clouds, flaming arrows rained like, well, rain. The Pegasi, of course, had expected fire arrows. What they hadn’t expected were the massive backlashes of searing hot fire as they threw water on the flames. Each splash only seemed to spread the element, as though the flames themselves were enchanted.
Hammer Strike reached his hoof out to his side, and Baleful Eclipse materialized in his grip. After placing it on his back, he leapt off the wall, leaving the defense of Unity to Hurricane. Now? Now, he had work to do.
It didn’t take long for the Gryphons to start making sport of the attack. Some wagered on being able to slice the ropes that supported the engines and allowed their mighty arms to lob their deadly cargo in the first place. Others settled on simply eradicating the threat before the Unicorns’ magic could run out.
Many in the back ranks of the Pegasi suddenly developed a dreamy expression on their faces as they turned toward the wooded areas and began wandering into them, despite the yelling and shouting of the officers. The song was unheard by anyone else, but the voice they heard seemed to resonate in their very soul and bring up memories of long nights with lovers in the past. They walked toward it gladly with dopey smiles as soft slim figures grabbed onto them. They didn’t even feel the pain as their beautiful white pointed teeth tore their throats out; just the warm rush of their blood, then silence.
Now the Pegasi were divided among those who were seeking to protect their siege engines and those who sought to prevent any more of their numbers from being lost to the forest. The air was suddenly rent with a, “Yeehaw!” A dust cloud arose as Cayde impacted with the road, then rose and pulled off his hood to reveal his mechanical parts. He grinned as he fixed the combatants in his sights. Zavala and Ikora soon followed. Zavala withdrew a longsword with a steely hiss. It hummed as the mechanisms within warmed and it began to project an energy field on top of the sharp edge from the blade. Ikora’s body flared with a radiant magical aura that flickered between purple and blue.
“For honor!” Zavala roared as he charged.
“For Peace!” Ikora shouted
“For shooting jerks in the face!” Cayde crowed.
Bolts of magic flew in rapid succession as Cayde fired headshot after headshot. Zavala cut whole swaths of troops with his sword, and Ikora smashed bodies together, using them like clubs before she shadowstepped in a trail of magical energy to emerge behind her victims and strike with explosive force. The Pegasi struggled to regain their footing in the air as their wings flailed until they slammed against either tree trunks, burning war machines, or … well, let it simply be said that some landed in two places at once after meeting a certain sword.
In other words, the Pegasi didn’t stand a chance.
Meanwhile, Hammer Strike sighed as he stepped through the shadows of the forest until he reached his destination. Before him laid a pegasi encampment, a bundle of tents and random structures that laid across the field, hidden away behind the forest.
Hammer Strike continued on his path toward the encampment, knowing how the leaders functioned. The best tent or building of the lot most likely contained the ones running the show, so far away from the combat that they felt they were safe.
How wrong they were.
When the guards attempted to block his path, Hammer Strike didn’t even break his stride as he grabbed Baleful Eclipse and effortlessly bisected both in a single sweep. As he passed the camp entrance, the wooden fortifications burst into flames while the earthen defences melted, including the soil.
Watchtowers, storage tents, supply wagons. All erupted in huge pillars of fire as Hammer Strike passed. The searing flames were blue, brilliant, and angry. Weapons melted or burned when pointed at him. Their owners died of heatstroke moments later, and flesh fedd off bone seconds after that. The scent of fire and cooked meat filled the air as the living attempted to put out the flames, only to be consumed by them.
Fire wreathed Hammer Strike's body like a second skin as he walked, his clothing and weapon unharmed by them, but everything else that came near was decimated. His mane and tail began to congeal and glow bright orange, shifting and undulating like liquid metal being constantly agitated.
Arrows and bolts had no effect. And despite the powerful updraft provided by the sheer heat Hammer Strike put off, there was no means for them to fly. The same power that had bogged them down in Unity now arrested their only avenue of true escape. The screams of dying Ponies eventually drew the attention of the commanding officers. To their credit, their tent was uniform compared to the rest of their fellows. The only difference was that more than one of the structures had been set up together to provide enough room for strategy and coordination.
The sun’s rays had nothing on the waves of heat that radiated off the blazing blue menace that was Hammer Strike. The air rang with the bellow of Hammer Strike’s thaumically augmented voice.
“Leaders of the Pegasi Military and any officials within range, come forth immediately!”
The encampment continued to writhe under Hammer Strike’s onslaught, but the Pegasi had grown wise enough to realize their normal efforts would hold no effect. Instead, the troops circled the baron and waited on the edge of the heat waves that rolled off his body. At long last, the ranks parted to reveal a cluster of Pegasi with taller bristles. The body ranged from bright-eyed and eager to the battleworn and elder, and they numbered fifteen in total.
One look at the surrounding area left one breaking ranks and barking orders. The mare raced to the tents trailed by Pegasi in white robes with a red cross. Any injured would need to be removed. Any supplies that could be salvaged would need to be separated. There would be none left behind.
Four of the remaining fourteen took one look at Hammer Strike and flapped their wings in vain. Their necks strained. Their veins bulged. Their teeth grated. And nothing happened. Hammer Strike cut the heat and raised his weapon as five of the remaining ten charged. All of them were young and hot-blooded. Their battle cries were strong, their spirit bright. Two more struggled with one another, with one trying to remain while the other dragged him behind against his will.
Hammer Strike lashed out with the scythe in what seemed to be a single sweep. Of the seven chargers, six fell dead, their armor and weapons shorn to bits in an instant. The reluctant one fell to the ground as well, but unlike the others, he’d only received a smack with the flat of the blade to his foreleg.
“Need we continue this?” Hammer Strike called out to those around him. “As much as you all may think otherwise, I’d prefer to keep this slaughter to a minimum.”
The remaining group, including the four that tried to escape, slowly formed into a line and drew their swords with a ceremonial flourish before driving their blades into the ground. They opened their wings and bowed deeply, all while the last armed leader waved her sword to better direct her knights where they needed to be. As was necessary of her calling, battle did not matter. Life did.
“Listen closely.” Hammer Strike sighed. “I’ll keep this simple. We are done with this. There will be no more war between you all and Unity. I will give you a few options to pick from, and should you attempt to fight once again, I’ll destroy every single one of you and everything you cared for. You’re all going to pick amongst yourselves, from each of your families, and they’re coming with me. They will be joined into Unity and live their lives under my protection. Unity will take any of you, all even, if you were smart enough to make the choice. Keep that in mind. So, your choices stand as such. Join Unity or leave and never bother us again while you live on your own. Or you can die here and now. No matter what, I will take some of you. That is final.” He looked out to those around him. “So, make your choice.” The barrier around the camp vanished. “Join Unity, leave and never return, or die.”
The oldest in their number stepped forward. He raised his head and folded his wings. “It’s a difficult thing you ask of us. You defeated us. Throttled us, really. In short, we are no better than prisoners of war. The only ones of our number who can technically leave are those members of the Dove’s Wings. They are noncombatants who fight for the health and wellbeing of the injured and the afflicted, whether they be active combatants or civilians. It is said among our people that none shall kill a dove and live an hour longer, so sacred is their mission. So, with that new information, you have a decision to make. What do you wish to do with us?” He looked scornfully at the dead upstarts. “I Personally would advise having us follow the path Hurricane chose to tread before his demise. As an old warrior who’s seen more than his fair share of fighting, it’s obvious that he had the right of things. A lust for combat only leads to useless bloodshed. Though it appears the only blood in this case came from those who were felled by your blade. The others are naught but ash.”
“Then join Unity and live. Collect your families and live,” Hammer Strike replied simply.
The stallion nodded. “It will take time.” He pointed to the still dazed young Stallion on the ground. “With his brother’s death, that colt now owns the lands his sibling governed.”
“I … wha…?” The colt turned and gaped at the puddle of blood, flesh, and debris. His face paled and he retched at the sight.
“That colt’s lands are four weeks’ flight away. Give us six months to set up an advisor and a means of communication to properly govern those provinces. All significant leaders in our command structure will reside in your lands, as per your request. We only ask that you allow the Dove’s Wings free passage to also spread the message and act as witnesses to substantiate the claim.”
“Then by my authority as Thaumaturge, I issue this verbal contract.” Thaumic power erupted from Hammer Strike’s hooves. “Should you agree, from henceforth you are under Unity, and in turn, abide by it’s contract. You are given your rights as citizens, and your laws to follow with those of Unity. Should you accept, agree verbally and sheath your weapons. Should you disagree, leave. But remember my warning. I will not show mercy again.”
The remainder of the council acted as one body. A unified, albeit subdued, “Yes,” flowed through the clearing, followed by the hiss and clack of their weapons as they slid home. The older stallion chuckled. “You may have to catch our last council member after she’s finished dealing with your fires and building a new triage unit. If there’s one thing Mercy Heart taught us, it’s never get between a healer and her mission. You might lose a wing.”
Hammer Strike stomped his hoof and every fire in the encampment snuffed out in an instant.
“Or … he could just do that.” The colt rose shakily to his hooves and hobbled back to the others. His eyes were wide, and his armor rattled as he struggled to regain his composure.
Mercy Heart stormed up to the gathering and sheathed her blade. “What’s going on here? Do you know how many Pegasi I’m going to have to treat for burns now, because of you? Some of them might never fly right again!” She didn’t let Hammer Strike even open his mouth. “I count six, not including the ones who might not make it.” She snorted as she took a calming breath.
“Five hundred and sixty-two,” Hammer Strike listed coldly. “That’s how many Earth Pony foals died in your raids over the last five years.” His eyes flashed as the next statistic passed across his vision. “Sixteen-hundred and ninety-six. That’s how many suspected casualties were tallied both from active raids and post-raid injuries. All were unarmed, unprepared farmers whose only crime was worrying about their families. Those Ponies you’re so angry over, the ones who died, the ones who are injured now, they were and are soldiers. They trained for combat. They knew they could be maimed or killed. Those mares, stallions, and foals had no idea. No training, no proper explanation. They were bullied, they were driven, and they were murdered in cold blood. Your council started this long ago. And they got away with it because I was busy protecting those who were under my charge from other threats. Then you and yours became the threat when you came demanding I surrender my lands, my resources, and my people. Two times, I pushed them away. Two times, I warned your council. This is the third attempt to destroy what I and my people have built. So, I’ll say once again. You people started this. I’m simply finishing it.”
Mercy Heart gaped at Hammer Strike. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me. I never once attacked you or your people. Anyone who said otherwise is lying. I can bring witnesses to testify in a court martial, but given that you don’t seem to have been aware of these events, one can assume the trial would be biased from the start. Why don’t you all save us some time and tell her what you did? I could ask Hurricane to come, if you prefer.”
“Hurricane is dead!”
“No, he’s very much alive. I found him, nursed him back to health after he was beaten and exiled for choosing not to conduct the very raids I mentioned. Quite the reward for such honorable service.”
“There were witnesses—”
“Who lied for the sake of promotion and reward. Ask your compatriots. They’re bound by my laws now. They can’t act against Unity anymore. And since perpetuating this lie would damage the social structure of our home, they will either have to tell the truth or break the contract and never return. Either way, the truth will remain the same.”
Mercy Heart turned to face her compatriots. Her tone was eerily calm as she rested a hoof on her sword. “Tell me. Tell me this isn’t true. Tell me that we didn’t attack unarmed mares and foals for the sake of spoils.”
The remainder of the council averted their gaze.
“Answer me!” she barked.
“We did it for survival,” one of the councilmares finally said. “Our people were starving, our resources dwindling. We had no other alternative.”
“No other alternative. You would rather we abandon our honor and become bandits and brigands?” She lunged at the mare and struck her a blow smartly across the jaw. “We agreed to maintain our honor. We agreed not to harm any noncombatants. You gave your word!” She jabbed the mare in the stomach with her hoof and watched in satisfaction as she buckled to the floor. Then she lunged to the side in a blur to pin her the next target of her anger. “I will beat you all so blue, you won’t be able to fly for a decade!”
And she meant it. She slit the ties for their armor in a matter of seconds and shucked them like oysters, then proceeded to beat every last one of them in martial combat, all while blasting them with expletives and insults that turned even her fellow councilmembers red with embarrassment. “Fools! How could you condone that?” By this point, the remainder of the council were practically glowing with rising welts and bruises. “‘Harm neither foal nor mother who shall give birth! Holy and precious is the life of the young.’ We have honored these rules of combat since the beginning of our civilization! Is this not why we fly and fight?” Any calls for mercy that might have risen went unheeded as she berated them for every broken promise they had made to her, every time they brushed aside a concern she had brought before the body. She even went so far as to smite the remains of those Hammer Strike had killed. This continued for an hour before she finally turned with heaving chest and drooping wings to address Hammer Strike. “I will swear your oath, but I will not give up my right to discipline whoever requires it, whether by blade or by hoof. I never draw blood, unless it is necessary, but I will make anypony who dares to practice dishonor so sore, they would wish I had.”
“Discipline is different from actively attacking,” Hammer Strike commented simply. “Under my authority, everyone who has accepted is free to act accordingly. Gather your belongings. You may either leave to gather loved ones and return to Unity. Or follow me now directly if you have no such ties.”
She nodded grimly. “Let me gather my husband and our belongings. He’s a surgeon, so he should be able to help any of your troops that have been injured.” She pointed to a group of clouds high in the air. “We take our home with us. It won’t take long for me to get everything ready.”
Hammer Strike nodded, then turned his attention to the rest of those gathered. “To those coming with me to Unity, meet me at the front of the camp. To those who need to gather family or belongings or deal with the political side of things, you all know where Unity is. By the time you come along, the conflict at the walls will be settled.” Then he turned and made his way to the front of the camp.
The Council rose wearily to their hooves. They likely wouldn’t be able to move on the next day, but orders were orders. And so, having been sufficiently cowed, the remaining eight hobbled toward the remains of the tents with their tails drooping and wings dragging on the ground. There was much to be done.
“Stand down!” Mercy Heart’s strident voice rang over the clamor, though not much remained of the opposing forces that could fight. The majority had been neutralized, either killed or otherwise incapacitated to prevent causing harm. Three figures stood calmly before the gates to gaze at the remnants. “I repeat. Stand down! This war is over. We have been defeated. STAND DOWN!”
Doves rushed forward with stretchers and kits to tend the wounded while Hammer Strike walked out of the woods and approached the gates. Poultice Solution and Binding were already there as the gates pulled open to reveal several Earth Ponies and Unicorns who rushed out to join the medics in the treatment of their former enemies. These moved notably faster between injured as magic and potions were used to stitch the wounded up rapidly.
Hammer Strike sighed as he looked over everything. “Binding!” he called out. “Prepare some contracts!”
“I have them already,” Lord said smoothly as he appeared beside Hammer Strike.
“Good. Distribute them accordingly, if you would.”
The leaders were busy trying to find any remaining commanding officers still capable of giving direction while numbering a tally of the fallen and wounded that still required attention. The Pegasi commanders were amazed at how quickly and efficiently the two healer groups worked together to save the remaining troops.
Hammer Strike looked over everyone. “Could have been done sooner.” he muttered as he continued on his way to Unity. Despite their current situation, he gave a nod to Hurricane on the wall, then gestured to those who didn’t return with him.
To the outsider, Hurricane merely scratched the side of his face, but Hammer Strike saw the confirmation for what it was.
“To those who aren’t a part of Unity, I issue this verbal contract.” Hammer Strike sighed as he repeated his previous contract verbatim to those who weren’t present at it’s initial point of implementation.
The majority of the Pegasi knew better than to try rejecting such a generous offer, especially when fixed with the glare of a very angry Mercy Heart.
“Another sound victory, Hammer Strike,” Binding noted as he approached his baron. “At this rate, it won’t be long before Unity turns into a city state.”
“So it seems.” Hammer Strike sighed. “We’ll need to start working on the other cities and merging soon, so I hope you’re prepared for that.”
“Are you referring to the Unicorns or to the other settlements that are under our care?”
“Under our care, and soon to be under our care.”
Binding frowned. “That’s a fair point. If the Pegasi were cruel enough to drive Ponies from their homes, they may have kept others for labor. Should I organize relief parties?”
“Potentially.” Hammer Strike frowned. “This is going to be a pain to deal with.”
Binding couldn’t help but smile. “Isn’t that usually how being a head of state works?”
“Don’t remind me.”
Clover walked through the battlefield, teleporting the more grievously wounded away, and came across them while separating those already dead into a pile.
“Any indication for how many were lost?” Binding asked.
“Fifteen,” Clover said. “The rest came out pretty well. It’s mostly their people who’ll need the more extreme attention.
“We have our three defenders to thank for that. Cayde seemed particularly … invested. Is he always so glib in combat?”
“Haven’t known him well enough to answer.” Clover shrugged.
“I suppose we’ll have to open our stores for the others to celebrate as well. With this threat subdued, the troops will definitely appreciate the opportunity to cut loose for a change.”
“Yeah, especially because starting tomorrow, things get harder,” Clover noted.
“True. The Unicorns will become desperate when they learn what happened here.”
“They’ll move slower, not as aggressively. We’ll probably be attacked by different houses or house alliances over the next decade or so.”
“And the various means they’ll employ will be different each time, depending on their leader.” Binding narrowed his gaze and rubbed his chin in thought. “This will take some careful planning. Though at least the defenses we’ve been incorporating over the years should prove enough to keep them at bay magically speaking for a time.”
“Only because, fortunately, Star Swirl is above wars like these,” Clover said. “Honestly, I’m not sure what we have would keep a Unicorn of his ability back.”
“Have you considered asking him to contribute to them? The defenses, I mean.”
“He won’t help us either.” Clover shook her head.
“Then it seems the time is coming for us to prepare for Drakenfeller’s arrival. I doubt he’ll remain with the court for much longer, once they begin attacking.”
“Probably not, but we can’t count on anything just yet.”
“True. I think we may need to consult with Ainz on some potential strategies to take.” He turned to face Hammer Strike. “Do you think you can create a zone with a similar effect to what you did with the pegasi, only to block opposing magic channeling, instead?”
“Yes, but I need some individuals to manage the field on.” Hammer Strike hummed. “I brought it up a while ago, but haven’t had time to test it.”
“Given the number of victories we’ve faced, we’ll either experience an immediate assault from one of the factions, which seems foolhardy, given how easily we achieved victory over the Pegasi, or they will wait and grant us the time we require. Regardless of which they choose, I am confident we’ll be able to hold them off until you can finish your research.”
“It won’t take long. It’s just the matter of fine tuning it to allow particular fields of magic to work in it. Pegasi magic, I can focus it as a generalization field, reading it in the broad spectrum, but Unicorn magic is different.”
“How so?”
“Pegasus magic can be considered under a generalization field, due to the nature of it, being a string of attributes that run common in all strains. Unicorns, however, run through a different system, and in fact, have a broad spectrum of potential they can reach, thus giving it a harder point to track. I mean, it’s not like a Pegasus can cast spells through their field of magic. A Unicorn, however, can mimic spells or create new arrays to simulate a type of spell or field.”
“So any attempt you make to limit a Unicorn’s magic would have to operate on an algorithm that’s capable of anticipating the various methods and levels of an opponent and targeting each accordingly.” Binding frowned. “I can see why you say it would be difficult.”
“I’ll make the device as soon as I can, but it might be awhile, and not without flaws.”
“We’ll see about planning defenses while you prepare it, then,” Binding said.
“I’ll deal with that after everything’s been dealt with here.”
“Very well. I’ll send the all clear to the civilians, then.”
“Twice now we’ve taken down the Pegasi with little to no casualties.” Clover shook her head in bewilderment. “It’s unheard of.”
“But not impossible,” Hammer Strike replied with a smirk.
“Oh, this is so exciting!” a large Earth Pony mare with an overly frizzy red mane grinned as a large wooden sign was levitated above a doorway and secured by Pegasi with hammer and nails. The sign read Cast and Polish Jewelry and Smithy.
“Settle down now, Polish. We still need to test the new equipment, make sure the facilities are good and proper,” a golden yellow Unicorn said as he eyed the wooden board. “Still think we should’ve gone with something flashier.”
“Now, now, Caster, it’s what’s inside that counts. Besides, do you really want to be the only business with gold enamel and diamond crusting on the building? That’s not really what Unity’s about.”
Caster sighed. “I suppose not. But you’d better believe I’m lining the inside with every piece of fancy I can make.”
Polish laughed and kissed the stallion on the cheek. “I wouldn’t expect anything less. Just like with any gem, it’s what’s on the inside that counts most. Now you see about prepping some of our stock. Don’t forget, Clover the Clever’s going to be inspecting the place soon.”
“Yes, dear.” He levitated a series of small crates out from a wagon and opened them to reveal a series of intricately carved bands of silver, gold, steel, copper, and other metals. “You got those gems ready to charge?”
“They’re in the chest, dear.”
Caster nodded. “Thanks, puddin’.”
The city had long since expanded into a large circular construction lined with streets divided into organized grids to ensure ease of travel and a continuous flow of traffic. The streets had been neatly paved, and the once-small huts had now developed into proper cottages with room for kitchens and living rooms. They had even gone so far as to build second floors to hold bedrooms and other luxuries many had not enjoyed in their time under the old systems of government.
With the rise in prosperity came a rise in enginuity to better ensure cleanliness and appeal. Beautiful aqueducts and other channels sent water flowing through the districts in record time while new plumbing afforded easier means of watering crops or gardens and supplying homes with easy access to keep hydrated.
Clothing and styles were quickly brought up to date with each family purchasing both practical and formal wear suitable for any labor or social activity. The guard would often appear on patrols through their various sectors of the city, making use of the grid-like structure to allow easy combing and simpler means of access in the event of an attack.
Structures ranging from entertainment to banking to study had been and were in the midst of construction or renovation as the population required, including the once humble churchouse Anderson had made use of for so many years. Now, the timbers of a mighty cathedral jutted into the sky in a mute appeal to the gods while craftscreatures were hard at work cutting and laying stone and mortar to help reinforce the structure. By the time it finished, it would truly be a sight to behold for the citizens and for tourists. Truly, the city had magnified into a proper metropolis, at least by Pony standards for that age.
The mage college had become especially popular as young Unicorns ventured to learn more and unlock their hidden potential for Unity’s sake, as well as for the sake of their own futures. Clover was a hard teacher, but she was fair, as were the students she had trained to teach.
The door opened of its own accord as Clover walked into the building. She no longer wore the old homespun cloak she’d first arrived in Unity with. Now she was dressed in a deep blue cloak with Hammer Strike’s insignia sewn in gold with a magenta lining. She smiled kindly at them as she looked around.
“Excuse me, are you Cast and Polish?” she asked as the door closed behind her. Her horn never glowed as it did.
Polish smiled as she approached the mare. “Welcome, welcome. Please, come on in. We’re still spiffing up the place, but we have plenty in stock to show you. Or, if you prefer, we can set up a custom order and give you a quote with an estimation on completion.”
“Oh!” Clover laughed. “Sorry, I should have introduced myself. I’m Clover. I’m here to get a good look at how Unity’s first jewlers are settling in.”
Polish gaped. “You’re Clover the Clever?”
Clover nodded. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“Well, the feeling’s mutual, I’m sure.” She grinned. “Honey, come on out. Clover’s here!” she shouted.
A few moments later, Caster emerged from the back room wearing a heavy apron to shield his front. “The lady herself.” He bowed his head in greeting. “Thanks for coming out to visit our shop.”
“It’s no problem. It’s good to have your skills in our city.”
“Surprised Hammer Strike hasn’t made some magical accessories of his own at this point. He’s supposed to be one of the best smiths this side of Equis, right? Though I suppose running this place and protecting all these folks must take up an awful lot of his time.”
“Hammer Strike can do jeweling and gold and silversmithing, but it’s not an area he enjoys or specializes in,” Clover explained. “Weapon crafting is more of a mixed art. Jack of all trades, master of none kinda thing.”
“That so?” Polish asked. “I always thought it was just superheating metal, hammering it, layering it, and hammering it again till you get the right shape.”
“What's the handle of a spear made from?” Clover asked.
“Wood.”
“Exactly. And Hammer Strike is often the one to make the handles for his weapons. There is also casting, gem setting, artifice, and several other crafts tied into the basics of weapon crafting,” Clover explained.
“Really?” Polish gaped. “I didn't realize all that effort could go into one little blade.”
Clover grinned and summoned her staff. “He made this.”
Caster approached and smiled knowingly as he examined the focus. “Mighty fine piece of work, that. Though the way you’re smiling, a fellah can’t help but wonder if you might not have a little crush on him.”
“Crush nothing,” Clover said proudly. “I wear his house insignia, don’t I?” she tapped the insignia on her cloak.
“I thought that just meant you serve him.” The smith shrugged. “Seen those on other household servants for nobles before.”
“You won’t see many with Hammer Strike’s crest. He doesn’t have a lot of servants.” Clover smiled. “Now, then, on to business.”
Luna had thought about what she was about to do for a while, which was unusual, as forethought was not something she put a lot of work into. She wasn’t nervous; she wasn’t pacing around trying to think of what to say. She just felt ready. Rather than a formal meeting, like Celestia had requested, Luna had left her father with a note asking him to come share a drink with her. Even now, she waited, sitting at a wooden table in her workshop tinkering with a small dagger she’d been working on.
“So, what’s the news?” Hammer Strike asked as he walked into the workshop.
“Well, I’ve been thinking about things,” Luna said as she put down the knife and poured two tankards, then slid one to Hammer Strike. “I think I’d like to go out and explore a bit.”
“All right,” Hammer Strike replied simply as he took hold of the tankard.
“I thought you’d say that.” She laughed and took a swig. “Celestia underestimated how you’d take things.”
“It was only a matter of time until you two wanted to go out and explore.” He chuckled. “I mean, you had to get tired of being around me at some point.”
“I’ve never been tired of being around you. I just feel so … contained right now.”
“Then go out and explore. Just … as I’ve warned Celestia, avoid Gryphon territory.”
“I don’t plan on heading that way anyway,” Luna said. “I thought I’d go back to the Minotaur lands for a while, maybe study some of the Thestral paths.”
“You’ll certainly be welcome there.” Hammer Strike gave a soft smile. “When are you looking to head out?”
“A week from today. Time enough to get maps, plan my route, have things ready.”
Hammer Strike nodded. “That should be good.”
“I will come back. I have too much here to leave anything behind. I just need to see it.”
“I know.” Hammer Strike reached over and gave her a brief hug. “Be sure to bring back some souvenirs, yeah?”
Luna laughed. “I’m sure I'll find you something good.”
“Now I need to think about what to do if Yharon wants to start wandering.”
“He’s a dragon. If he truly wanted to, he could probably circumvent the planet in a matter of hours.” Luna laughed. “Besides, dragons tend to be more attached to their hearths.”
“Yeah, but he’s not quite a normal dragon now, is he?” Hammer Strike chuckled.
“No, no. He’s much more terrifying,” Luna agreed, taking another drink.
“We’ll see how it goes when the time comes.” He smiled. “I bet you’re going to miss your forge within the month.”
“Maybe, but maybe I'd like to find my own secret spot,” she snickered in turn.
“I’m positive you will. Just be sure to set up a good teleportation relay. You never want one of those to break down.”
“I’ve got my own plans for that.” She nodded. “Look after Clover, okay?”
“What, you're worried she’s going to blow something up ... again?”
“No, but I figure with the way you two manage to outdo your own soundproofing, you should probably be ready for anything.”
“I’m going to ignore that comment, but will note a revision to the soundproofing,” Hammer Strike replied, taking a drink. “Perhaps thaumically next time.”
“Have you heard anything from Celestia?”
Hammer Strike shook his head. “Not really. But I suspect she’d like her own time not having to worry about home. Doesn’t bother me much, as long as she’s enjoying herself. To a point.”
“I hope she’s well. You and I both know she doesn’t have the head for war she needs sometimes.”
“Don’t worry. I’ve got a method of keeping tabs on everyone's wellbeing.” Hammer Strike took a drink. “Better than sending recon after both of you.”
luna laughed. “You know I'll be fine.”
“I’d hope so. Otherwise I’d have to start training up again for you.”
“Maybe when I get back, we can anyway.” Luna smiled. “If you have the time.”
Hammer Strike returned the smile as he clinked steins with her. “I’m sure I will.”
“Hammer Strike,” Clover called as she entered carrying a scroll in her magic. “I just received a letter for you from Platinum.”
“Joy.” Hammer Strike sighed. “I wonder what it’s about this time,” he muttered, taking hold of the scroll and unfurling it.
To Hammer Strike, Lord of Unity.
Our most royal greetings to you, Hammer Strike. We appreciate your… concise reply to our last correspondence. I congratulate you on your suppression of the Pegasi and the absorption of their lands into your own. It seems very possible peace may be on the horizon. It is to that end that I am writing you now.
As you have no doubt heard by now, many of the peerage of my kingdom have begun to have misplaced doubts about my abilities as a ruler. I fear if something doesn’t happen soon, they may react adversely to a peaceful solution. Therefore, I would like to propose a political union between our two kingdoms. A marriage between myself and you would show a great stand of unity between the Pony tribes, and I believe it would also give certain radical elements pause to rise against us. This would be a purely political move, so while consummation and an heir would be necessary, no romantic feelings need to be involved, and you would of course be allowed to keep with anyone you may already have a relationship with.
I understand this is a sizable proposal, and I would normally invite you to take your time. Unfortunately, I do not know how much of that luxury I have. I eagerly await your reply.
HRM
~Platinum.
“That self centered, pea-brained, stallion-stealing BITCH!” Clover’s body was sheathed in an aura of purple flames that gave her fur a white appearance as her mane and tail seemed entirely consumed by said flames. Heat billowed out from her body as she read the smoking parchment again.
Hammer Strike blinked as he noted Clover’s response. ‘I am really glad I made this house fireproof.’ he thought to himself. “Well, I think that sums up a response.”
Clover summoned parchment and quill. “You’re refusing,” she stated as she began writing a response. It clearly was not a question.
“I mean, that was the idea, yeah.” Hammer Strike raised a brow. “It’s kind of her just trying to save herself.”
Clover seemed to not hear him as she continued to scribble and re-scribble her response.
‘I guess I won't be writing a response this time around,’ Hammer Strike hummed to himself. ‘Or perhaps I should, to keep things civil…. Either that or prepare for war.’
Clover growled, flung the parchment at him, and stormed off.
Hammer Strike took hold of the parchment, and against his better judgement, unfurled it. After a few seconds, he proceeded to roll the scroll up and place it on the table next to him. “Yeah, I think I’m going to get to work on that response…”
Extended Holiday Chapter 172: ...The More they Stay the Same
Gryphons and Unicorns marched steadily while Pegasi flew overhead until they reached the perimeter of the no-flight zone. Their armor was mismatched, their appearances ragged. Whether from years of battle, malnourishment, or a fight to survive, none could say. Perhaps it was a combination of the three. But all looked on the great stone walls that had been built around Unity with grim expressions.
The banners of three houses flew in the hooves of standard bearers. The first was a golden hoof with a pen jabbing through it. The second portrayed a mortar and pestle with a flask behind it as the backdrop. The third portrayed an exceptionally long spiral horn shaped like a lance. When the troops finally halted, a rousing fanfare played out from a series of trumpets as three messenger Ponies stood forward bearing scrolls in their magical grasp.
“To the residents of the colony known as Unity!” the first one called.
“We come bearing messages from our lords!” the second cried.
“Who shall receive them?” the third asked.
“I’ll receive them!” Hurricane spoke as he calmly flew to them. “One at a time.” He looked to the trumpeters. “If any of you blow your instruments one more time, I'll shove them so far up your flanks, you’ll be playing them out the back end for the rest of your life. This is a battlefield not a parade ground.”
The trumpeters balked or winced in kind as the messengers passed the scrolls to the commander. “We shall await your reply,” they said in unison.
Hurricane nodded “I can give you that right now.” He walked up to the first messenger. He smacked him with his hoof and sent him to the ground. Moving faster than they obviously suspected, he proceeded to do the same to the other two before they could react.
“Lord Hammer Strike hopes you can deliver that message exactly as he wrote it,” Hurricane said before doing an about face and returning to the wall.
“Come on, if you’re sending a message for me, you can at least put the effort into it.” Hammer Strike called out.
“I have three demands of surrender for you.” Hurricane handed hammer strike the messages.
“And you only gave them the one response?”
“My lord is a man of few words.”
“Damn you for getting it right.” Hammer Strike smirked. “I’ll add it to the firewood later.”
“Should we fire on them?” Hurricane asked.
Hammer Strike hummed. “How many times have they showed up now?”
“This would be their sixth attempt to parlay. I think they believe they have us under siege.”
“Then you’re five times late on asking that question.” Hammer Strike nodded. “Have fun.”
Hurricane nodded to his lieutenant, who began shouting orders. Soon arrows began filling the field. They were only just missing as the messengers and their entourage galloped away. It seems over the last few years, the close work between Unity’s Pegasi and Gryphon forces had given birth to a new weapon. The heavy Pegasus compound bow was a design that Hammer Strike had to admit was impressive. Nowhere near a Gryphon bow’s range, but the Pegasi firing were accurate to well over a kilometer.
“Perhaps a brand or two might send the message next time,” Hammer Strike pondered.
“I’ll have a fire made and brands put into it. Anything in particular?”
“Come now, do you really need to ask?”
“While you’ve had some funny ones, the men found the one with your symbols Mars and Venus intertwined particularly hilarious.” Hurricane laughed.
“That was a good one.” Hammer Strike hummed. “I could do that as a general brand, yeah. I’ll add it to my list of projects.”
“You wonder how long it will take them to realize that a siege requires us to need the outside to survive?” Hurricane asked.
“Given how long it’s been, I’ll give them another few years, and that’s being generous.”
“Has to be the easiest job those mercenaries ever had, being paid to sit outside the wall and do nothing.”
“Definitely.” Hammer Strike chuckled. “All right, I’ve got work to do. Anything else to report?”
“Not really. I’ll alert you if anything changes, but short of them getting Minotaurs or a Dragon, I don’t see them getting through after Clover totaled their siege towers.”
“Yeah.” Hammer Strike frowned. “Took all the fun for herself on that one...”
The “sieging” forces roiled in the afternoon sun as scores of organized troops tromped forward bearing the banner of Drakenfeller. The young noble had matured even more over the last several years, and now strode without pause with his small army in tow. Civilians lay huddled in the center of the ring while soldiers filed around them with swords, spears, lances, and javelins at the ready. Three Ponies raced to keep up: one a portly yellow stallion with a brown mane and vibrant blue eyes. The second was a tall lanky Unicorn with green fur and dark sunken purple eyes that verged on black. The third was a white mare with a glossy wavy gold mane and eyes whose pupils stretched to create a shimmering four-pointed star that accentuated the vivid emerald of her irises.
“You can’t seriously be thinking what I think you’re thinking, Drakenfeller,” the portly stallion huffed. Small beads of perspiration had formed over his brow, and he wiped at them with a kerchief as he struggled to keep up with the stallion.
“What I think is my own business, Goldscript. And I would thank you kindly to remember that.”
“Then you intend to put aside your pride as a Unicorn and debase yourself?” The green one yawned as he kept stride with the pair. “I might have known after the meeting you had here before.” He shrugged. “He is a formidable opponent.”
“And I see your intelligence network is still just as reliable, Viscount. Tell me, how does it feel taking orders from Duke Pensley? Is he still forbearing from ‘getting his hooves dirty?’”
The viscount yawned again and shrugged. “It is what it is. You know I don’t really care for such things. It’s the research that matters to me.”
“It’s best to get the unpleasantness out in the open,” the mare stated as she eyed Drakenfeller. “Do you or do you not intend to join Hammer Strike as either a vassal state or potential ally?”
“What does it mean to you if I do, Spellcroft? At least he has a sensible head on his shoulders. You lot are too busy squabbling to actually care about the land and your people.”
The mare’s horn flickered dangerously. “You know we can’t allow you to do that.”
Drakenfeller’s tone was quiet and level as he stared her down. “Do you really want to do this? Attacking me is one thing. Attack my people and I will slaughter every last one of your soldiers where they stand.”
“Or better yet, I will,” a voice spoke as black flames erupted from the ground and a large robed skeletal figure carrying a golden staff walked out. Flanking him were two even larger figures covered in huge sets of dark platemail. Thick metal horns jutted out the sides of their helmets as dry skin and rotting gums were bared for all to see.
“Faust have mercy!” the portly Unicorn cried.
“You gave that up when you decided to turn your weapons on non-combatants,” Ainz responded. He lifted a skeletal hand and blue flames erupted above his palm. The instant heat was enough to force everything living that was close to take a step back. “These are the lands of Lord Hammer Strike. You may prance and show off as you wish, but you will not turn your weapons or spells to the innocent or the noncombatant. You will have your forces move aside and allow this Unicorn and his people to enter Unity unopposed. Do this and no harm will come to you. Defy this and pay a price far worse than death.”
The green one yawned again. “A lich. That explains a lot,” he said calmly.
“How can you be so calm about this?” Goldscript yelped.
“I’m a researcher. I lost interest in caring about things like my lifespan a long time ago.” He shrugged. “Probably might have tried something similar if it weren’t for the fact I wanted my soul to go to Faust. That, and as a potion-maker, I’d rather not have my experiments do me harm.”
“The fact you would even consider such an existence disgusts me,” Spellcroft spat.
Viscount shrugged. “No skin off my back.” He looked to Ainz. “So, was it worth it?”
The mare let out a primal scream as a bolt of holy magic blazed from her horn and arced at the lich. “Full retreat!” she barked at her troops. “Move!”
Ainz released his staff, which floated beside him. He reached out and grabbed the magical energy out of the air. “Interesting” he said, examining it like it was some sort of insect or exotic fruit. He proceeded to place it into the core of his fireball before tossing it over his shoulder. It exploded in a massive dome of holy fire that incinerated several trees. With a second wave of his hand, all three Unicorns found themselves trapped as giant spires of bone surrounded them. The death knights stalked forward, ignoring the various arrows and spells fired at them, and produced enormous jagged greatswords. They held their blades on either end of the impromptu cage, ready to swing and cleave the bone and those inside them in twain at a moment's notice.
“Wait a minute!” Goldscript shrieked. “I didn’t even strike. Why am I in a cage? Someone get me out of here!”
Out of the whole troops that had been gathered, nearly two thirds turned and fled without remorse.
“Come back here, you cowards! Wait for me!” Goldscript cried, then wailed in despair.
“Drakenfeller, can you give me a solid good reason I shouldn’t just execute these three right now?” Ainz turned to the lord.
“Each are potent contributors in their various fields. The viscount is one of our foremost researchers in the field of alchemy and potions crafting. Spellcroft is a potent mage said to have a blessing from the gods. And as for Goldscript, well … I suppose he isn’t quite so important. He is an eminent scholar and passionate collector of rare tomes, however. If he’s willing to exchange some of those, it might be worth keeping him around. Of course, they would all have to be bound to prevent any forms of magic being utilized.”
“Hammer strike, I’ve captured three of the nobles leading one of the factions against you. How would you have me deal with them?” Ainz asked through his channel.
“Are they worth keeping alive?”
Ainz relayed everything Drakenfeller had just told him.
“Someone high in the ranks of alchemy might be useful. Ss for a powerful mage, we’ve got plenty of them. The blessing doesn’t matter much. The keeper of tomes…. Clover’s got a large enough collection as is, and is quite active in securing more.”
“Congratulations.” Ainz turned to them, letting them gain hope for a moment. “Viscount, lord Hammer Strike will see you.” Somehow, one of the death knights reached a hand through the bone like it wasn’t present and grabbed the Unicorn, pulling him up and placing him securely on its shoulder. “As for you two, you have ten minutes. You may use those minutes to grovel, make threats, or whatever comes to mind, though I would highly suggest preparing your final regards to your families.”
The death knight holding the viscount vanished into the portal of black flames.
Goldscript’s blubbering and wails came immediately. Spellcroft glared at her captors, but otherwise remained silent. She wasn’t about to give them the satisfaction.
“Hammer strike, just so we have all this covered, I am going to execute these two unless you tell me otherwise in the next three minutes. They will die swiftly and painlessly. Do you acknowledge this?”
“Doesn’t sound like a loss to me.”
“Drakenfeller, you formally witness that this is in response to them attacking us first?” Ainz asked the Unicorn.
“I believe the attack was meant to allow her troops the chance to escape you. Given she doesn’t understand your nature the way Unity does, I can understand why she acted in such a manner. However, if you believe her actions justify the deed, I will act as witness. It is your lord’s land, after all.”
Ainz reached one skeletal hand forward, looking at Spellcroft. Black energy formed in his palm. It twisted and altered to form the rough shape of the Unicorn’s heart in his palm. “Any last words?”
“Get it over with already.”
Ainz closed his fist in one rapid motion, crushing the ethereal heart with no effort. At the same moment, the light left the mare’s eyes and she fell dead to the ground.
Goldscript screamed all the louder and began to hyperventilate. “I don’t want to die. I don’t want to die. I don’t want to die!” His horn began to glow.
Ainz turned to him, palm open again, and the heart began to form. “There are things far worse than death.” And once again, he crushed the heart. His eyeless sockets watched on, cold and unmoved by the Unicorn’s fear. The cry faded to a choking gurgle as the Unicorn collapsed. A sickening squelch sounded as the light from the horn flashed. When the light faded, the lower half of the corpse’s body had disappeared, and blood mingled with a clear liquid as the upper half drained itself.
Drakenfeller turned aside in disgust. “Disgraceful.”
“Death is something everyone handles differently,” Ainz said, shaking his head as he waved a hand and incinerated the bodies. Neither was particularly suitable for undeath. “I believe it’s time I took you and yours back to Unity. Who knows how those that followed them will react when they get ahold of themselves?”
“I admit I wish you had waited until after we had gotten the foals away, but I agree. We should get my people inside the gates as soon as possible.”
“They saw nothing.” Ainz shrugged. “I made sure to glamour everything that happened.”
Drakenfeller sighed in relief. “Thank you for that kindness.”
“Now, let’s go. I imagine you have a lot of news for us.”
Hammer Strike hummed to himself as he painted the city in its current state. Every few years, he would paint the settlement from a vantage point next to his house. It offered a way for him to get a general scale of the changes as the years went by.
“It’s beautiful,” a familiar voice spoke behind him.
Hammer Strike turned to find Clover approaching him. “Appreciated. I … actually do this every few years to see progress.”
“Everyone needs their way of self expression. Besides making weapons of war, that is,” Clover said as she approached. “Your art is amazing.”
“You’re trying to butter me up,” Hammer Strike noted as he raised a brow. “Any particular reason?”
“Not really.” She shrugged. “Just trying to spend some time with you.”
“I’m not going to be upset if you blew something up again,” Hammer Strike offered.
“One time.” She sighed “That was one time.”
“Twice, actually. The first time was just less … dramatic.”
“Hammer strike, what are your plans for the future?”
Hammer Strike blinked as he looked at Clover. “Well, I’m kinda here? I mean, it’s not like I have anywhere else to be. Point-in-time excluded.”
“I mean, what about family?” she pressed.
“You’re all here?” Hammer Strike rubbed the side of his head in confusion.
“Where do you see us going from here?” she tried again.
“Uhh,” Hammer Strike hummed. “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”
A heavy sigh heralded the arrival of Harmony as she materialized next to him. Her hoof was on her face as she shook her head. “You know, with your sheer analytical brilliance, I would have expected you to see through to what she’s really trying to say by now.” She groaned when Hammer Strike stared blankly at her. “Oh, for creation’s sake. She’s pregnant!”
“She’s preg—” HIs attention snapped over to Clover. “You’re pregnant?” he commented, surprised.
“I—yes,” Clover admitted.
“I … I thought we kept track of your cycle.” Hammer Strike placed a hoof on his head as he thought everything over. “Just in case and all that. Analytically speaking, I suppose there was a percentage chance, but it was low.”
“Low isn’t impossible,” Clover said, putting a hoof on his shoulder. “I didn’t mean for this to happen either.”
“No, no. I’m not upset. I’m just surprised.” Hammer Strike continued to think things over.
“So, where do we go from here?” Clover asked.
“I …” Hammer Strike looked over to his house. “I think I’m going to look towards making a new room. Perhaps we should also … probably make things official.”
“I don’t want you to feel forced into that.”
“Clover,” Hammer Strike gave her a smile. “Trust me, it’s not like that.”
“Then … that's really what you want?” she asked him.
“Of course.” He wrapped both forelegs around her. “Do you really think me so fickle? Once I’ve made up my mind, you’re stuck with it.”
“It’s about time,” Harmony said. “I was about ready to hit you over the head with something, if you didn’t get a move on.”
“Oh, shush you.” Hammer Strike smirked at Harmony before returning his attention to Clover.
Clover said nothing. She just hugged him tightly. He could feel moisture on his neck.
“Ex Divinia etiam.” Hammer Strike gave a small smile. “I’m gonna have to tell Yharon.”
“You’re gonna have to tell Luna and Celestia, too, whenever they turn up.”
“Oh, gods, don’t remind me.” Hammer Strike chuckled. “I’ll get everything on the house front dealt with. Collect your stuff whenever you’re ready, yeah?”
“I, well, I—” she hugged him tighter. “I love you.”
“I love you, too,” he returned. After a few minutes of blissful silence looking over all they had accomplished, Hammer Strike looked down to Clover again and smirked. “You get to deal with Anderson.”
“Screw that. Binding’s doing the ceremony. I respect Anderson, but I'm not Faustian. And last I checked, neither were you.”
“I mean, technically, I follow none of them,” he replied. “Despite talking with all of them…” he muttered.
“So, Binding it is?”
“Yeah.” Hammer Strike nodded. “I wonder how long it’ll take him to process the request.”
“Who knows?” Clover shrugged. “Let's hope it won’t be too long.”
“Give him enough time to reboot first, after he realizes how badly he lost the bet,” Harmony teased.
Hammer Strike frowned to himself as he wandered the roads of Unity, scanning over everything within the city walls. He was looking for particular individuals, and wanted to ensure that everything was running as smoothly as it could be. His first stop was to the apothecary. Poultice and Bella had received upgrades to their building when Viscount was brought into Unity. It took some time for them to adjust to each other, but their work certainly started to shine.
Viscount and Poultice both hovered over a bubbling beaker as Hammer Strike entered.
“Just a little more,” Poultice said. “And we’ll have a proper soft solution!”
“But we can’t get too excited yet. It needs to be tested. You have the sample ready?” Viscount asked.
“It wasn’t that hard to find,” Bella noted testily. “Just because I’m older doesn’t mean I’m blind.” She hefted a small statuette of a squirrel onto the table, then rolled her eyes. “I swear, you two are giddier than a pair of fillies in a gossip mill.”
Viscount laughed. “What can I say? Your husband reminds me of when I was a student.” The dark circles about the green Unicorn’s eyes had lightened significantly. “I haven’t brewed one of these in decades!”
Poultice levitated a small dropper over the vial.
“Just a couple should do it. That’s distilled from Clover’s garden, after all. Very potent.”
Poultice nodded and squeezed the dropper gently. Sweat beaded his brow as one, two, three drops hissed into the brew and it turned a bright yellow. Viscount levitated the beaker in his aura and placed it on a spare stand to cool.
“Excellent. Give it a few minutes to settle, and we can watch the magic, literally.” He chuckled again. Then his eyes widened as he turned toward the door. “Hammer Strike. What brings you here?”
“I’m simply checking up on everyone around Unity, ensuring things are in place, everyone’s happy, all that,” Hammer Strike explained. “I see all three of you are getting along well.”
“Having an experienced set of hooves has increased our efficiency dramatically. That, and little Muninn has a new playmate,” Bella said.
“Your son is exceptionally knowledgeable for one so young. You’ve raised him well,” Viscount praised.
“You’re certainly starting to look healthier as well, Viscount,” Hammer Strike noted.
“And why shouldn’t I after the conversation we had with Master Ainz? You’ve confirmed the potential for one of my greatest ambitions. Of course I’m going to show some change.”
“Even then, you’re starting to show healthier signs and better self-care.”
“Well, I suppose if you want to get down to the nitty gritty, part of that could be attributed to the contract I agreed to. I can’t very well work for the betterment of your—excuse me, of Unity, if I don’t maintain myself as well.”
“That’s good, then.” Hammer Strike nodded. “In general, is everything running smoothly here?”
“We have no complaints,” Bella assured him. “Though we have had some visitors that have been helping lately. They’re a little on the shy side, so it may take some time before they’re ready to meet you directly.”
“That’s good to hear.” Hammer Strike smiled. “If that’s the case, I’d best be on my way. Plenty of shops to visit.”
“Feel free to drop by later. I’ll brew my most famous potion, and we can talk affairs,” Poultice said, then winked.
Hammer Strike nodded as he exited the shop. Next on his list was Free Market. It had been some time since he last talked with her. It didn’t help that she was running her shop almost day-in and out, last he checked.
Free Market’s emporium towered at three stories and stretched wide enough to take up enough space for three houses. A massive cart sat on the side, where hearty Earth Ponies worked in tandem to pull down crates full of food, clothing, and other amenities to carry inside. And all the while, a familiar mare stood with scroll in hoof to check off the delivery. Some gray had begun to hedge in along the green stripe on her mane, and the maroon had lightened ever so slightly over the years. Her hair had been tied into a bun out of necessity, but other than that, her prosperity and success had not changed the values she carried with her.
“It’s certainly been a while, hasn’t it, Free Market?” Hammer Strike commented as he approached.
Free Market smiled. “Well, well. Would you look who finally decided to pay a visit again. We were worried our number one customer had forgotten about us.”
“Sorry I can’t stop by more often, but you probably have an idea of how hectic it’s been running things.”
“That happens when you carry the weight of so many people on your shoulders. I’m just glad you don’t try to carry it alone.”
Hammer Strike chuckled. “How have things been running on your end?”
She returned the gesture. “Let’s just say it helps having so many strong boys around to do the heavy lifting.” She raised her voice. “Boys, don’t be rude now. Come say hello to your uncle!”
“Wait, what?”
The Ponies that were free all waved their hellos before returning to work. Free Market shook her head. “I suppose I’ll let them off with that. And to answer your question, Hammer Strike, you’re basically an honorary member of the family. If it weren’t for you and what you did for me, these colts wouldn’t even be here today.”
Hammer Strike gave a brief smile. “Well, I appreciate it. I’ve been trying to catch up with everyone, get a general layout of the city and how things are going.”
“Haven’t you been doing that every month for the last couple of decades?”
“Not entirely.” Hammer Strike rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s been busy, and I’ve been mentally everywhere trying to keep track of it all.”
“You could always try getting more help.”
“Binding’s been helping me out so far,” Hammer Strike noted. “Though, it might be an idea, yeah… Perhaps Drakenfeller might be willing to assist.”
“He might, at that. He has a good head on his shoulders for a noble.”
“That’s a rare lot, indeed.” Hammer Strike chuckled. “I’ll probably talk with him about it later. If everything has been running smoothly, I suppose I should continue on.”
“You come back here with Clover for some dinner sometime. A good homecooked meal would do her some good. After all, she’s eating for two now, isn’t she?”
“Indeed.” Hammer Strike chuckled. “I’ll mention it to her,” he replied as he turned to leave. “Until next time.”
“Farewell, Hammer Strike!” Free Market waved as he left.
Hammer Strike gave a brief wave in return and smiled before turning to the next location on his list. He had a long day, or few days, ahead of him.
Book Broker was quite possibly the most unassuming figure Unity had. An Earth Pony stallion of average size with a fairly ordinary coat of blue with a gray mane. He wore squared spectacles and had a cutie mark of an open book with a magnifying glass on it. Most knew him as a stallion with a luck for finding rare or expensive books at rather cheap prices, and for being quite the gossip. Older mares especially were often seen coming and going from his store to hear the latest rumors.
Currently, he was casually checking the shelves and scrolls around him to make sure everything was meticulously set. His ears perked up as the bell at the door went off, and he turned to look at his newest visitor.
“Quite the collection you’ve managed over the years, Broker,” Hammer Strike commented as he looked around.
“Well, what better way to import information then with information?” Broker asked as he casually moved to the desk nearby. There was a click and the door swung shut and locked. Blinds covering the windows instantly. “What can I do for you, Hammer Strike?”
“Just checking in for now.” Hammer Strike sighed. “Covering assets and all that with everything going on.”
“Understandable.” Broker nodded. “Congratulations, by the way.”
“Appreciated. Anything pop up that I should know about?” Hammer Strike questioned.
“None of my crews have reported anything worth noting yet. As far as my net’s concerned, everything looks okay.”
“Good. How goes the whole, ‘living a normal life’ part of things? I’m sure it’s been quite the change for you.”
“It’s nice to be able to not look over my shoulder all the time.” He nodded. “Of course, the guys are giving me gray hairs.”
“Please, with your disguises, I’m pretty sure you shouldn’t have an issue there. That, and I doubt they’re giving you that much stress.”
“Some of this information doesn't come easy.” He shrugged. “You think the Unicorn kingdom’s ledgers were just out in the open?”
Hammer Strike gave a brief chuckle. “I mean, with how they run things, I wouldn’t be surprised, but fair enough. That crew of yours is managing their covers well, I take it?”
“Of course. I’ve had to do a few bribes to get one or two of them out and move them around, but in general, no one is the wiser.”
“Good. Admittedly, two of them had me worried, but it sounds like they’re managing fine.” Hammer Strike sighed. “If there’s nothing else, I’ll leave you be. Keep me updated as per usual.”
“You got it.” He nodded. There was another click, and the door opened as the shutters rose again.
“Father, you’re doing it again,” a young voice complained as a small hoof waved in front of Hammer Strike’s face.
“Huh?” Hammer Strike blinked a few times. “Oh, sorry.” He chuckled. It had been a little over three years since Clover had brought up her pregnancy, and he was still adjusting to the situation. Starlight Bulwark’s fur was a deep royal blue with a lighter blue mane that carried silver highlights. His bright eyes carried the intense curiosity of one who wishes to learn and be heard. Though based on the current expression, the colt likely was looking for something else.
“So, tell me what happened next. Where did the kitsunes go?”
“Well, after the others heard of their survival, they came here, a good number of them from their home, to bring them back.” He smiled. “They set off into the sunrise to return to where they called home.”
“But, wasn’t this their home, too?”
“A second home, perhaps. But the Kitsunes are very proud of their heritage, and can never give it up so easily.”
“So, I have three more brothers I won’t get to know.” He frowned. “That’s kind of sad, but I guess I should be happy for them. I’d feel pretty bad if I lost you and Mother, so I suppose it’s the same, right?”
“I suppose it would be.” Hammer Strike nodded. “Though, one thing I am certain of, they will be living their lives to the fullest.”
The colt cocked his head in confusion. “How do you know?”
“Because they were much too stubborn to do otherwise.” Hammer Strike smiled. “They put their minds to bettering their homeland. I don’t see them doing anything less.”
“You mean like you did here with Unity?”
“Pretty much.” He chuckled. “All right, if I recall correctly, your brother Yharon promised to play with you, didn’t he?”
“Yeah, but I wanted to spend some time with you. Besides, Mother said she needed some time alone with him first, and he’d meet us here after.”
As if on cue, the door opened, and Yharon padded through with an apologetic smile. “Sorry I’m late.”
“No worries. I just finished telling Starlight a story.”
Yharon smiled. “Which of the daring exploits did you tell him this time?”
“I told him about Gakushu, Haku, and Kurama.”
“Everything? Wow. I must have taken longer than I thought.” Yharon laughed. He strode forward and ruffled Starlight’s mane. “So, are you ready for our ride, little brother?”
Starlight recoiled. “Yharon!”
“You know I can’t stop doing that at least once in a while, little one. After all, it’s the big brother’s duty to annoy his younger siblings.” He smiled and lowered his hand. “However, we also get to take said siblings on fun adventures to balance it out.”
Starlight’s eyes widened in delight. “Where are we going this time?”
“You’ll just have to climb onto my back and see when we get there.”
Starlight pouted. “You’re no fun.”
“On the contrary. I just know how to play out the suspense.” He smiled as the foal was wrapped in a flaming magical aura and levitated onto his back. “Now let’s say farewell to Father and leave him to his work. I have some friends I want to introduce you to.”
“All right.” Starlight sighed, then raised his hoof and waved. “Goodbye, Father. We’ll see you at dinner.”
Hammer Strike gave a little wave in return. “Have fun.”
“Don’t worry. We won’t do anything you wouldn’t do, Father,” Yharon promised.
“I’d hope not,” Hammer Strike commented bluntly. “I’d even hope you don’t do some of the stuff I actually do.”
“I think we can manage,” Yharon said. He offered a casual salute and strolled out of the office.
Hammer Strike smiled as he pulled out an assortment of documents. “Ex Divinia etiam, time is just flying…”
“That's the nature of time” Clover said as she approached him. “It just keeps moving forward.”
“To a point, yes.” He directed his attention to Clover. “But in my case, I keep feeling like I’m losing track of things.”
“Well, I mean you are constantly thinking about a hundred different problems at once. You’d probably be obsessed with more if Binding and I didn’t start handling things ourselves.”
“Fair point,” Hammer Strike admitted. “Is Drakenfeller taking to his new position well?”
“He’s putting his all into it, now that we’ve managed to move his entire family to Unity. He’s put everything into a plan for how we can take the gentry down quickly and efficiently.”
“Oh, don’t remind me about them.” He sighed. “I don’t like how inactive they are. They’ve been spending the last three years just planning out a method of ‘dealing’ with us all.”
“They’re nobility, with drakenfeller as the exception. They tend to think everyone is stupider than they are.” Clover sighed.
“Yes, but as noted, I dislike their lack of activity. I’d almost prefer they try something, just so I can deal with them and get it over with.”
“Oh, they’ll try eventually. Honestly, I think it’s comforting to know they haven’t tried their ace in the hole yet.”
“Ace in the hole?” Hammer Strike raised a brow.
Clover pointed a hoof up to the sun. “Moving the celestial bodies is currently the task of the Unicorn tribe. Thing is, if they did decide to use them as hostages, we don’t have enough magic to counter them.”
“Perhaps not enough magic,” Hammer Strike frowned. “Perhaps I’ll look into attempting an interaction with it by thaumaturgy. Not quite move it, but see if I can at least … interact with it.”
“I hope so, because otherwise that may be the one thing they have against us,” Clover noted. “Still, I’m happy for their inactivity.”
“I’ll see what I can figure out.” Hammer Strike sighed. “How are the thaumic checkpoints working out?”
“They're working fine. They’ve found twenty-seven attempts so far, and we’ve heard no problems outside those attempts,” Clover noted. “A few of the would-be-traders are angry when their stocks are confiscated, but the population for the most part thinks it’s a good idea.”
“That’s good.” Hammer Strike sighed once again. “I’ve been trying to figure everything out to ensure the safety of our populace.”
“You can’t foal-proof the world.” Clover laughed. “You’re doing everything you can, and the people appreciate it.”
“Now that it’s been some years, have the Pegasi adapted well?”
“If anything, they’ve taken to things better than we thought. Hurricane’s had to set up two more training camps, and we have nearly every fortress in the kingdom filled. Also, Anderson has reported that Pegasi have been converting to Faustianism in droves.”
“That’s … certainly interesting.” He hummed. “I understand the influx to the military, as that was to be expected.”
“I think between the obvious displays of power from Anderson, and the fact we already had some Faustian Pegasi when they came here, it made them realize they had no real faith magic on their side.”
“You’d think Slephnir would put a little more effort in to keep up, wouldn’t you?”
“You really think he’s that smart?” Clover asked with a raised eyebrow.
“Well, he’s supposed to be running things,” he noted with a smirk.
“So is Platinum,” Clover returned.
“I mean, on a smaller scale, yeah.” Hammer Strike shrugged. “Oh, I can tell he’s listening in.” He nodded. “Let’s swap topics, yeah?”
“Well, we have three guilds set up aside from the adventurers guild, and several more asking for a spot. The upgrades to the mage college are nearly finished. I’m considering naming someone to take over as the head mage there.”
“Think you have a candidate in mind?”
“A few. We have a lot of promising Unicorns here. Admittedly, I had hoped Celestia would have returned by now.”
“They’re both out exploring the world. I’m honestly unsure on when they’ll return. It took us originally seven years to travel from Roo territory to here.”
“You worry about them,” Clover noted.
“Of course I worry.” Hammer Strike frowned. “Gods, you have no idea how much I wanted to send someone after them, Cayde to spy on them, Ainz to create a relay to keep track of them. Hell, I could have even sent these damned things!” He gestured to the additional insignia’s on his coat.
“You’d send your insignias?” Clover asked, confused.
Hammer Strike blinked a few times before he realised what was going on. “Oh, I never showed you them. To be fair, I nearly forgot about them at times.”
Hammer Strike reached a hoof to the insignia on his left shoulder only for it to suddenly separate off his coat and convert into a four-legged blackened mass. It held onto his hoof as he moved it to the table before stepping off and staying put on the table. “This thing is a series of nanites from the Alicorn empire, though it’s a collective mass that forms a singular unit. They can replicate things.”
“That's … fascinating,” Clover said as she examined the creature. She held a hoof to it experimentally.
“They’re connected to me,” Hammer Strike replied. “Mentally, actually. You know how a hivemind works, yeah? Same idea, though they sort of … attached to me.” He looked to the creature, only for it to suddenly shift into a replication of his quill.
“The applications of this could be massive,” Clover noted.
“Yeah, though we only have the two,” Hammer Strike commented as the insignia on his right shoulder followed suit and leaped to the table, replicating a small inkwell.
“Hard to believe they’re artificial.”
“They’re certainly interesting, I can give you that. Though they can work on their own in a basic sense, most of the things they do are controlled by me or my subconscious.”
“Amazing. How did you come across these?”
“The Alicorns tried to use them to kill me by having them absorb my life.” Hammer Strike replied simply. “Which ... I can actually make them do to others as well.”
“So, they made these as weapons? What a waste of potential!”
“I don’t know what they made these for, but I accidentally disconnected their hivemind link, and they promptly connected to me in an attempt of self preservation.”
“Well, I’m sure you’ll put them to better use.”
“They’ll certainly be useful for information gathering.” He hummed. “Perhaps I’ll send them off with our next group to have them lay about.”
“Anyway, the roads to the other settlements are almost finished. We’ve had some trouble, but nothing our regular patrols couldn’t handle.”
“Good.” Hammer Strike nodded. “Once that’s dealt with, we’ll have a full network between all of our cities.”
“Also, your people are asking for a standard. They want a palace, too, but I’m holding them off on that part.”
“A palace? Why? I can understand a symbol to work with, since it seems every city has their own, but....”
“You’re their king.” Clover chuckled. “You’re their king, and you live in a cabin. They see it as weird.”
“Well, it’s a nice cabin,” Hammer Strike defended.
“And I'm not saying they’re right.” Clover placed a hoof on his neck. “But it’s what they see.”
Hammer Strike sighed. “I just really don’t care for a lavish environment. The idea of a palace honestly sounds ridiculous to me. Yeah, Unity is a big city, but … a palace?”
“To them, kings live in palaces.” Clover shrugged. “They think it’s weird that nobles have their mansions and Platinum has her castle, but you’re in a little wooden cabin.”
Hammer Strike sighed once more. “I’ll figure something out, probably put it on the backburner for as long as I can.”
“Best you can do. Besides, you can use the Unicorn problem as a reason.”
Hammer Strike tapped his hoof on the desk. “That’s perfect. Great idea.”
“So, anything else you need?”
“Not off the top of my head. I’ll contact you if something does come up, however.”
“Okay, then I'll have just enough time to check on the mages before I hunt down our son.” Clover chuckled, teleporting away.
“Starlight Bulwark? Interesting name choice,” Grif noted, looking at the screen.
“Seems logical enough to me,” Vital said. “Starlight for hope and a bulwark for defense. Best of both worlds, a little from either parent.”
“Okay, so Clover had a son? With Hammer Strike? How is this not recorded in Canterlot?” Twilight asked.
“Discord,” Grif reminded her.
Twilight ground her teeth. “Remind me to have a talk with a certain Draconequus when we get back.”
“Okay,” Derpy promised.
Twilight blinked. “... And suddenly your reminder to me that morning makes sense.”
“Starting to get the whole timey-wimey thing?” Grif asked, chuckling.
“Is this normal for you three or something?”
“It was before we came to Equis, and it apparently still was after for Grif, Pensword, and Hammer Strike,” Vital noted.
“The idea of time not being linear was something humans have toyed with for close to two hundred years now,” Grif said.
“Isn’t it supposed to be, though?” Twilight asked.
Grif looked to The Doctor, who shrugged.
“Twilight, time isn’t a line. It’s more a ball,” Grif said. “A yarn ball, all twisted and wrapped around itself.”
“But a ball of yarn still comes out to a straight line in the end,” Twilight argued. “Once it’s unravelled, you still have that set course of events.”
“True,” Vital said. “But there’s still the series of events that are caused by time travel, etc. that lead to that ultimate outcome.”
Twilight groaned. “This is more confusing than the paradox I created before Cerberus came.”
“You didn’t.” Grif shrugged. “At least not a proper paradox, just a time loop. You stabilized it; therefore, it cannot be paradoxical.”
“If it were….” Vital shuddered. “Let’s just say the universe wouldn’t be the universe. It abhors a paradox.”
“Now, back on topic. You okay there, Rarity?” Grif turned to the other Unicorn.
Rarity sighed. “I admit I knew this was a possibility, but part of me can’t help feeling disappointed that I wasn’t first.”
“At least you’ll have something to bond with Clover over when we get back,” Vital said.
“And certain discussions. I’ve had another herdmate all this time, and she kept quiet about it. I understand her reasoning, but now that we know the truth, some things are going to have to change. Her quarters, for one.”
“That and the entire political climate,” Grif commented.
“You mean the fact Hammer Strike is the real founder of Equestria, the fact he’s probably going to be king, or the fact that he, an Earth Pony, wiped the floor with their ancestors and technically has them bound to the same contract, albeit one that’s been dormant because he hadn’t tethered himself to them yet?” Vital asked.
“Yes,” Grif replied.
“Think he’ll actually exert that authority when he gets back or let them struggle for a while longer to see them stumble over themselves?”
“That's the question.” Grif sighed. “You overestimate how well I know how he thinks, if you think I have the answer.”
Vital shrugged. “I figure we’ll just ask him later.”
“I’m more interested in the research Binding put into those contracts,” Twilight said. “That kind of magic is still exceptionally rare, even in our present.”
“Probably for a reason. The ability to bind souls?” Grif shivered. “That could be misused so easily.”
“Wouldn’t be surprised if Faust made sure to keep that gift out of the wrong hooves precisely for that reason. Can you imagine what that kind of power could do in the hands of a necromancer?” Vital asked.
Twilight shuddered. “Really didn’t need that image, Vital Spark.”
“But it does provide a good warning, and a proper deterrent,” Vital pointed out.
“Twilight, you’re not Clover. You’re not immune to corruption,” Grif said.
“But I’m an Element of Harmony!”
“Didn’t save Luna, and even Hammer Strike was corrupted for a time, if you recall,” Vital pointed out. “None of us is truly safe from corruption in one form or another. Grif does have a point.”
“And what if I were to be bound by a contract ensuring I couldn’t abuse the gift?”
“Can tell you right now, that’s a cold no,” Grif said. “Hammer Strike’d probably even upgrade it to a hell no, free of charge.”
“In other words, Twilight, you should probably just drop it,” Vital said.
“But … but … new magic….”
“Twilight, what did the TARDIS do to you when you started poking around where you weren’t supposed to?” Grif asked.
“... She shocked me.”
“Exactly. Now, consider. If this other branch of magic is also not meant to be looked for, what forces might be brought to bear, that are stronger than the TARDIS, to try to stop you?”
Twilight sighed. “Why is it you three always have to be right?”
Pensword turned his head at Vital. “Do you have something you and Trixie want to tell us?” he asked with a giggle. “Because you just did a Dad joke.” He looked to Twilight. “While I can go on with this magic thing… I will not do so in public. I do want to find who Starlight Bulwark marries and everything else, though.” He chuckled, “I could do what my grandmother does and make a scrapbook for him.” He looked at the others. “What? We have the time.”
“Don’t think you’ll be allowed to see that here, Pensword,” Vital noted.
“Well, if she wants to make the scrapbook sealed for all but Hammer Strike, I’m all for it, because he should know this. I don’t care if I know this, but this is for Hammer Strike, not me! He should know what happened to his bloodline.”
“And he probably will,” Vital said. “And you might be able to help him when we get back, assuming you can balance with all your other responsibilities. Let’s just take things one step at a time, okay?”
“And we are in a time machine. I’m working with Grif on getting back in top shape. I’m working on getting my mind sharp as well. And I have my spirit guide, who can travel to and from the spirit realms. I can get hints on where to look. And if I can’t go, I can have others go looking in my name.”
“Yeah, don’t think we can do much of that here right now,” Vital pointed out. “But if you’re looking for a sparring partner, I’m sure I can give you a run for your money.” He grinned. “Care to take a shot?”
“If you don’t mind getting some bruises,” Pensword replied.
“Grif, would you mind officiating?” Vital asked.
Grif nodded. “I’m on it.”
Starlight yawned as he levitated two dark orbs in his horn’s magic. Constant practice and exercises had yielded an ease of use for the spheres. He casually levitated a third orb to join the other two. If Mother could do it, then he certainly could. He sighed as he looked out the window to his room and watched citizens and guards alike passing by the fence on various errands.
“Uh-oh,” a deep voice rumbled. “I know that sigh.” Six orbs levitated from the box near Starlight’s bed to orbit the colorful dragon.
“I’m just thinking,” Starlight mused.
“About?”
“Questions, mostly. I’m a little bored with endurance training, so I like to let my mind wander. Sort of a meditation while I practice.”
“And the questions you ask?”
Starlight shrugged. “I don’t even know where to begin. Who am I, what kind of person do I want to be, are there any expectations I have to live up to, will everyone at Unity be expecting me to take over eventually, am I ever going to have another sibling. Things like that.”
“That is a lot of questions,” Yharon agreed. “Did you think about asking Mother and Father about them?”
“You already know what they’d say for most of them.”
Yharon chuckled. “True. You know that’s the right answer, though. You do need to figure out a lot of those for yourself. No one can really show you the right way. Your role, your place in the world, that’s for you to decide, no matter what other people may or may not expect from you.”
“But how do I discover that?”
Yharon shrugged. “Experiment. Try something new every once in a while. Mother wants us to use our magic to gain mastery of it and make sure it can’t harm anyone, but that doesn’t mean our magic has to be the only thing we ever do.” He smiled. “How about we go visit the bakery after this? I hear they have a sale going on, and I am rather partial to their fruit tarts.”
This time, Starlight chuckled. “You’re partial to pretty much everything, if it’s cooked.”
“Now that’s not necessarily true. And how am I to know, unless I actually try everything I can, hmm?” Yharon smirked.
Starlight laughed. “Okay, okay. You’ve got me. I’ll go for a day in town with you.”
“Good.” Yharon grinned. “I get the feeling we’re going to have quite the adventure today.”
Starlight jabbed Yharon’s fur. The dragon’s tough body easily took the blow. “Now you’re just trying to bring Murphy into it.”
“Well, you looked like you needed a little fun.”
“Fine, but if anything goes wrong, you’re taking the blame.”
The two brothers smiled as they emerged from the pastry shop. In a strangely cartoonish manner, Yharon’s belly seemed to have stretched beyond its normal confines as he popped another treat into his mouth.
“Careful, Yharon. Father’s likely to put you through the ringer if you eat too many more of those today.”
Yharon chuckled. “One of the benefits of being a dragon, my dear younger brother, is the fact that our metabolisms burn a lot hotter than Equines. In other words, I can gorge myself and be absolutely fine by the end of the day without any negative consequences. This can be difficult for my cousins, since some of them can grow to the size of mountains. It’s also a reason why we often consume gems. They’re higher in natural minerals that help keep our bodies functioning longer than if we were to consume the typical foods a Pony eats. It’s also why many of us hibernate when we reach that size.”
“So, does that mean I get to mess with you when you’re hibernating?”
Yharon smirked. “Do so at your own risk,” he sang.
“Is that an invitation to do my worst?”
“Only if you want me to challenge you to a magical duel later and trounce you.”
“Hmm. Would it be worth it?” Starlight wondered.
“I’ll wager that it’s not,” Hammer Strike commented as he approached the duo.
“Father!” Yharon smiled in surprise. “What brings you out here today?”
“Supply run and checking out the market.” Hammer Strike shrugged.
“So, shopping for Mother?” Starlight asked.
“That, too.” Hammer Strike nodded. “It’s still a strange thing to be honest.”
“What is?” Starlight asked.
“Well, honestly, I used to just live here by myself. I’d tend to the crops, defenses, all that stuff. Despite it being like this for years, part of me is still not quite used to it.”
Starlight pondered that statement for a time, then finally spoke. “Father, if you tended to defenses, does that mean you would practice fighting, too?”
“Yes, actually. I trained our first guard until we got more trained individuals in different fields.”
“Do you still practice?”
“Of course. Yharon can attest to that. Though I passed that torch on, so he could get better experience.”
“Do you think I might be able to watch?”
“Sure.” Hammer Strike nodded. “I don’t see a problem with that. I could bring it up with Hurricane as well, see if he’ll let you watch their matches.”
“Thank you. I’d like that.”
“I’ll get to that when I talk to him next.” Hammer Strike chuckled. “The two of you have been enjoying yourselves today?”
“I figured he needed a day out. He was starting to get a little too in his head.”
“Hey!”
“I tell it like it is,” Yharon pointed out.
“Well, I’ll let you two continue your fun. Though, I’d advise against more sweets.” Hammer Strike chuckled. “I mean, unless you want stomach aches.”
Yharon smiled. “We’ll be good, Father,” he promised.
“After all, we don’t want Mother to bind your stomach against sweets again,” Starlight teased.
“She told you about that?”
Hammer Strike hummed to himself as he continued on his path around town. He would stop by the market and check the ever-changing list of merchants before moving along to the stationary shops.
He was picking up supplies for their next month. Food, materials, that sort of thing. He would occasionally check up on everyone that he could, making an effort to remember names. It helped that his augments could store notes and data, though it upset him that it took a number of years before he learned it could do so.
“Well, if it isn’t Hammer Strike, himself.” A deep bellow of a laugh carried over the crowd as a large Earth Pony in a flannel shirt approached bearing a heavy load of wood bound to his back.
Hammer Strike smiled. “Tree Feller. How’s business going?”
“Oh, not too badly, I suppose. Been doing more tree tending than tree felling lately, but that’s how it goes when spring and summer roll round. Not nearly so much demand when there’s so much furniture well made and ready to go.” He chuckled. “I was just getting this here order ready to take to Smokey for his work. Those Diamond Dogs love a good piece of smoked meat.”
“Them and many others.” Hammer Strike chuckled. “What’s the timetable on my order?”
“You need a rush on it?”
“Oh, no, I’m just wondering how progress is going.”
“We’ll probably have it ready for you by next week. How’re the boys?”
“Rowdy, as per usual.” Hammer Strike smirked. “Though, I suppose it’s to be expected.”
“So it would seem. I’m just glad the bigger fellah finished with his molt. That fire belch was no joke.” He chuckled. “How did you manage to treat all those symptoms, anyway?”
“Lot’s of fine tuning and medical scans.”
“That wife of yours sure is a miracle worker.”
“That, she is.” Hammer Strike chuckled. “I’ll let you get to your dropoff. Have a good day, yeah?”
“You, too. Safe travels, old friend.”
Luna smirked to herself as she approached the cabin she’d not seen in years. Her black and ragged cloak billowed in the wind of midwinter, her rundown saddle bags the only thing keeping her identity as an Alicorn from being revealed. She trotted through the snow admiring how much had changed in her absence. Her hooves made no sound and left no hoofprints as she approached the strong wooden door. She lifted a hoof to knock.
“Door’s unlocked,” Hammer Strike called out from within.
Rolling her eyes, Luna opened the door with her magic and stepped inside. “Hello, Lord Hammer Strike,” she said. Her hood was still up to hide her face. She gave a low bow of the head.
“Don’t you start with that,” Hammer Strike replied flatly. “I get enough of that already.” He was currently seated on the couch within the living room. After a moment, he glanced over. “What? Not going to take off that hood and come give your father a hug?”
Unable to stop herself, Luna ripped the hood off, quite literally. She accidentaly tore it right off the cloak before running up and wrapping her legs around him. “I missed you, Father.”
Hammer Strike returned the hug with a smile. “I missed you, too. Gone for, what was it, seventeen years, and you couldn’t write?” His smile widened.
“The mail service is terrible,” she said, laughing through tears. “You changed the house.”
“Yeah, well… some things have changed.” Hammer Strike chuckled. “In fact…” He looked farther into the house. “Starlight! Would you come here?”
A few moments later, a budding young stallion stepped into the room. “Yes, Father, what … is….?” Starlight gaped at the mare.
“Starlight, meet Luna, your sister. Luna, meet Starlight, your brother.” Hammer Strike smiled.
Luna released Hammer Strike as she turned fully to the colt. Her face was unreadable as she looked down at him. With the hood gone, Hammer Strike could make out small scratches and scars beneath her fur most would never be able to see. His augments further began pointing out wounds and signs of former fractures and broken bones. Even currently, she seemed to be favoring her left leg, though almost imperceptibly. The blue Alicorn stared down at the colt for a while as the colt stared up at her. Then all at once, she swept him in a hug, and Hammer Strike winced as he was sure he heard something pop.
“HUZZAH! ANOTHER LITTLE BROTHER!” she shouted gleefully.
To his credit, Starlight managed to grit his teeth and bear the pressure, at least for a time. “Glad though I am to finally meet you, Luna, could you maybe lighten up on the squeezing a little? I may be Father’s son, but I’m not so durable.”
A blushing Luna released him swiftly. “Apologies. I sometimes forget my own strength.”
“It’s all right.” Starlight’s horn lit up, and the affected area was quickly restored. “No lasting harm done.” He smirked. “And now I’ll get the chance to see Father actually have a proper fight for once.”
“Oh, little brother.” Luna chuckled. “I might get close, but Father’s never used his full strength against me either.”
“Still will be a lot closer than what I’ve seen before.”
Luna grinned. “You’re gonna be a fighter. I can tell.”
“That much is certain.” Hammer Strike chuckled. “He’s been watching over the guard training the last few years, and just recently has been invited to join them.”
Starlight blushed. “I still have a lot to learn.”
“And that's always the first lesson.” Luna laughed. “The moment you stop learning on the battlefield, you die. That was the first lesson father ever taught me.”
“Will there always be battle in the world, then?”
“Unfortunately, it is the way of living beings. Ponies are less inclined towards it, but there will always be the wicked and those with the strength to stand against them.”
Starlight chuckled. “Why do I get the feeling I’ve just been drafted to be one of the strong ones?”
“If you’re father's son, then that will happen whether you like it or not.” Luna laughed.
“Then I guess I’ll have to get to work. By the way, sister, a question for you. Just how many of mother’s training orbs can you lift today?”
“Seven,” Luna said. “Magic was Celestia’s gift, not mine.”
“Good to know. That will give me a goal to reach.” He smirked. “If I can’t beat you physically, I can at least rival you magically.”
“If you’re anything like Clover, you’ll do that without issue.”
“Another vote of confidence. At this rate, my head’s going to get too big for my horn.” He chuckled. “Shall I tell Mother we need to set another place at the table tonight?”
“If you would,” Hammer Strike replied. “Last I recall, she went out to gather some reading material, so she’s probably at the library.”
Starlight nodded. “It was good to finally meet you, Luna. I look forward to establishing a proper bond later.” With that, he left the living room in search of his mother.
“Come here,” Hammer Strike patted the seat next to him on the couch.”
Luna quickly made her way over to sit by him.
“Any injuries you need looked at?”
“Nothing that needs healing.” Luna smiled. “Alicorns don’t scar, remember?”
“Perhaps to those who are unable to perform medical scans,” Hammer Strike pointed out. “I can see them, and the difference in your posture down to you favoring your left side.”
“It was a sprain. It’s already almost entirely healed” Luna said defensively.
“I’m not going to pry, Luna. I just want to make sure you know that if you need medical attention, we can manage it,” Hammer Strike noted. “I’m not going to force you through the system just because. It’s up to you in the end, or if it gets too bad and you’re just being too stubborn….” He finished with a small smile.
“Stubborn. Where would I have picked that up?” Luna smirked back.
“Clearly, it wasn’t me,” Hammer Strike chuckled. “Otherwise, you’d fight me when I try to fix you up.”
“It’s good to be home.” Luna smiled. “So, you and Clover had a foal?”
“Yeah… It was a little unexpected, to be honest, but everything was fine in the end. Went official, had the whole ceremony, decimated the Pegasus kingdom and absorbed their nation. Overall, it was interesting.”
“And no word from Celestia?”
“She’s still out there, doing something…” Hammer Strike sighed. “I can still tell she’s out there, but no word yet.”
“I heard nothing of her during my travels. I’m beginning to worry.”
“She’s still fine. I can sense her presence and have a general layout of her state of being.” Hammer Strike frowned. “I kept my word of refraining from sending a spy or someone to follow, but… I still worry. She’s fine, thankfully.”
“And how is Old Man Hurricane?” Luna chuckled. “Still putting the fear of Faust into new recruits?”
“Without a doubt,” Hammer Strike chuckled. “He’s married. Four wives. No idea how he handles that.”
“Well, at least we know the bloodline will be strong.” Luna shook her head. “We’ll need more like him.”
“I don’t know if I could handle more like him.” Hammer Strike chuckled.
“Maybe, but he won’t last forever.”
“Yeah, he won’t.” Hammer Strike frowned. “But that’s the nature of life. It marches ever on, so it’s up to us to enjoy the little moments.”
“And for some of us to stand as stones in the stream.” Luna nodded.
“Indeed. So, how were your travels?”
“Well, it all started with….” And so Luna began to tell her tale.
Starlight crept on magically muffled hooves toward his father’s chambers. This mission was of the utmost import, and it had to be done in secret. He shuddered to think what might happen if Clover found out what he was about to do. He knocked gently on the doorframe and waited.
“You’re free to enter,” Hammer Strike called out from within.
The door creaked open and Starlight shut it as gently and quietly as possible. “Father, I … have a request I wanted to make of you, but I’m trying to keep this a secret from Mother. Would you be willing not to speak with her about what we’re about to discuss?”
“Depends on the topic,” Hammer Strike raised a brow. “But, as long as it isn’t major, I’m sure I can keep it a secret.”
“It has to do with my plans for a focus. I know mother is one for pushing the boundaries of magic, but I’m not so certain she would approve of what I have in mind, and I was hoping to collaborate with you on it, since you have so much knowledge on smithing in the first place.”
“Arcane foci aren’t my strong suit.” Hammer Strike rubbed the back of his head. “Let’s hear what you have in mind.”
“As much as I appreciate the typical aesthetic most mages seem to have with staves, wands, and the like, I want to try something … different, unique.” He sighed. “To be precise, I want to create a weapon that functions well in combat and can still act as a fully operational focus at the same time.”
“That’s plausible.” Hammer Strike hummed. “You could place it either in the guard or around the pommel, though you’d need to reinforce either as a just in case, due to the nature of a weapon.” he thought aloud.
“Physically, magically, or both? If we do try a magical means, we would need to ensure it’s masked to avoid detection from potential enemy combatants that are of the more mystical persuasion,” Starlight mused. “Might I set aside some time to work out some sketches with you?”
“Honestly, your mother might actually find the idea interesting, fusing a staff with a weapon.” He hummed. “I’ll let you bring it up to her, if you’re up for that, but I can certainly put some time on the side to help you out.”
“I would appreciate it. And you’re sure Mother wouldn’t mind?”
“It’s just that weapons aren’t her thing,” Hammer Strike noted. “Doesn’t mean that she doesn’t see opportunities for others.”
Starlight smiled. “That’s a huge load off my shoulders. Thank you, Father. I’ll let her know. She’s been hounding me for weeks now to start making it.” He pranced happily out the door and into the hall.
Hammer Strike gave a brief chuckle as he returned to the reports in front of him. “He really is my son, isn’t he?”
“Well, well, well, if it isn’t Princess Luna Galaxia!” The voice bellowed over the air as a familiar if somewhat wizened Commander Hurricane came in for a landing by the sparring grounds. “I wondered when you’d be coming home, you little scamp.”
“Well, someone has to show these slobs how it’s done, and I doubt you can get the rust out of your joints long enough to do so,” Luna returned with a smirk.
“Good. You kept your tongue sharp. Now let’s see how much you’ve honed those skills I taught you.” Hurricane drew his sword and grinned as he pulled into a combative stance.
Luna drew her mace, giving a few flourishes as she too assumed her regular stance.
The two were silent for a time as they gauged one another. Neither was willing to take the first move. Finally, Hurricane took to the air in a leap that left a shockwave of dust behind. True to his name, the speed of his wingbeats could still generate potent wind currents. With the field obscured, he banked, then dove, building a cone of force around his body as he did so to add momentum to his next strike.
With a loud clang, he felt his sword make contact with the mace, and it felt like he’d swun at a stone wall. There was no give, no movement to redistribute the force, just a simple calculated block. With a flick, Luna sent him sprawling back ten feet.
Hurricane chuckled. “What was that, a friendly pat on the back?” In a matter of seconds, he was in close combat, interspersing sword strokes with the occasional kick or wing swipe to attempt to break Luna’s focus.
Luna, much to the jaw dropping shock of the observers, hadn’t even turned to look at Hurricane as she rapidly blocked his attacks with small swift movements. “I know you got old, but I thought you’d be faster,” she teased as her mace continued to block.
“Speed isn’t everything, Luna, as I’m sure you remember me telling you.” He dove toward her legs and swung his sword as he skidded past the ground, just barely avoiding touching it with all but the barest edges of his feathers.
“Yes, but it helps.” In an almost imperceptible motion, she lifted her hoof and stomped. The sword snapped beneath the strike, and Hurricane found himself rolling in the dirt before he stumbled back to his hooves. “The faster you end the match, the better. That was your lesson.” She lashed out with her mace, smacking his right foreleg at the knee and forcing him to kneel as a result Then she held the mace out an inch from his face. “Much like that.”
Hurricane laughed. “Gods, I missed you, girl. I haven’t had a fight that challenging in years.” He rose slowly to his hooves and patted her shoulder with his wing. “Welcome home.”
She returned the gesture. “I didn’t let myself sit around while I was gone. Kept my skills sharp as I could.”
“Good. That means you can teach some of my kids. Would you believe your father had me married? Four times, girl. Four!” He laughed. “Of course I love them all, but still.” He winked mischievously. “Would you like to meet them?”
“I would love to, but I think that's for another time,” Luna said. “You still have to whip these ones into shape.”
“I’ll hold you to that,” Hurricane promised.
“You’d better.”
“Chin up, just a tad,” Hammer Strike commented as he studied Starlight Bulwark before applying paint to his brush. Starlight had just turned seventeen and completed his advanced training with Hurricane. To mark the occasion, Hammer Strike had decided to paint a portrait.
Starlight was equipped with platemail, and chose to have his weapon at the ready, leaning on it as he gave a smile to Hammer Strike.
“You know, much though I love smiling, my cheeks are starting to hurt. How is it that all my exercise never included smiling and frowning?” He chuckled at his joke, which caused the corners of his smile to turn all the more and made him wince slightly before returning to his original position.
“Sorry, but I’m not the best teacher for something like that.” Hammer Strike gave a brief chuckle.
“Father, I’ve seen you smile plenty of times before. Are you certain you didn’t just learn it from one of us and then perfect it like you do everything else?” Starlight smirked.
Hammer Strike continued to work at the canvas. Thankfully, with all the time he had dedicated to painting in recent years, he had started getting quicker with it. Knowing Starlight, he would prefer not to stand in the same position for too long.
“I suppose I can learn some new things,” he commented after a moment.
“Good. I’d rather not be called the son of a dog. Speaking of which, how are the Diamond Dogs doing? I haven’t seen many of them for a while.”
“They’ve been growing, actually.” Hammer Strike hummed as he continued working. “Still gathering ore, and in return, they keep most of the gems. Of course, we still get a cut. In return, they get protection.”
“Is it hard? Protecting people, I mean.”
“Yes.” Hammer Strike nodded. “It takes plenty of effort, and sometimes … you just aren’t enough. But seeing those you help live another day makes it worth it.”
Starlight sighed. “I wish those pigheaded nobles would see what we see in you. A lot of this conflict could have been avoided if they had.”
“It’s just the way some individuals are. They don’t want to give up the power they have.”
“They want power for power’s sake,” Clover chimed in from her spot in the corner. “They don’t understand power for protecting people.”
“Was King Platinum like that? A protector, I mean. You knew him once, right?”
“King Bullion,” Clover corrected. “Yes, in his prime, he was very concerned about the wellbeing of his people.”
“Did that ever change?”
“He got older, and eventually his faculties started to degrade, but he held things together up until his death.”
“I wish I could have met him.” Hammer Strike hummed as he continued his work.
“I’m sure you two would have gotten along.” Clover chuckled.
“A shame.” Hammer Strike sighed. “Almost done,” he directed to Starlight.
“Thank goodness. My legs are getting stiff.”
“Oh, so I guess that means I need to adjust and swap that armor of yours, then?” Hammer Strike smirked. “You know, I think we still have a spare set of leather.”
“First of all, it would be a shame for you to have to start all over again,” Starlight began. “And secondly, I said stiff, not tired.”
“Yeah, but you can’t have that happening. I’ll look into some better training for you, then.”
“Better training, huh?” Starlight smirked. “I think I can live with that.”
“You see, you say that now, but it’d be training from me.” Hammer Strike smirked. “From your father, who doesn’t sleep.”
“And you think Mother’s been any easier to deal with?”
“Don’t bring me into this, young colt,” Clover said.
“I was only teasing, Mother.” Starlight smiled. “Though I was a little serious. You did train me to deal with lack of sleep in my studies, after all.”
“Your father has slept no more than five hours per week in the entire time that I've known him, with only two major exceptions, one of which I'm sure was the night you were conceived.”
“Sounds like fun.”
“All right.” Hammer Strike placed his brush down. “I think that’s that. What do you think?”
Clover smiled as she looked at the portrait. “Excellent,” she said as she took it in. “It’s finished, then?”
Hammer Strike simply nodded in return. “You’re clear, Starlight.”
Clover’s horn glowed, and the same aura covered the portrait. “And that will help it resist the passage of time.”
“Hmm. He really did catch my eyes, didn’t he?” Starlight commented as he joined his mother to gaze at the portrait.
“He captured you in time,” Clover said. “It’s a rare thing.”
“Then you should have it, Mother. That way, a piece of me will always be here.”
Clover smiled. “I’ll treasure it, then.”
“Of that, I have no doubt.”
“I’ll look into a proper frame for it later.” Hammer Strike smiled before glancing back to Starlight. “You mentioned it before, but I have to ask again. When did you say you were wanting to head out?”
“I want to have the chance to say some proper goodbyes, so probably in about a month or so.”
Hammer Strike nodded. “I’ll make sure to keep it in mind.”
“I'm gonna miss you,” Clover said, hugging her son.
“Mother….” Starlight blushed.
“We both will.” Hammer Strike gave a small smile.
“I’ll write,” he promised weakly.
“I’d hope so.” Hammer Strike chuckled. “Otherwise, I’ll have to track you down, myself.”
“So, I should plan on either Ainz or Tarefson?”
“I have my methods of alternates. I don’t use it often, but I can be in multiple places at once,” he replied as a second him pulled itself from the shadows, matching his appearance perfectly.
“And you can maintain that indefinitely?” Starlight asked curiously. He would have examined it, but Clover was still clutching him.
“Haven’t found a limit yet,” both replied.
“Since when could you do this?” Clover asked.
“For a while now, actually. I just haven’t needed to.” Hammer Strike shrugged as his copy vanished.
“We’re going to talk about this later,” Clover said, poking him in the chest.
“All right.”
“So, is this the last time we’ll see Starlight?” Pensword asked The Doctor.
“As far as I can tell.” The Doctor nodded.
“What happened to him?”
The Doctor fiddled with the controls. “Starlight Bulwark left Unity at seventeen and spent the next ten years of his life traveling as a knight errant and solving various problems for unaffiliated settlements and towns. He received an injury while taking down a pack of cu sith near what would become Manehatten, and was forced to stop traveling. He married several times and had roughly fifteen foals. Died at the age of three hundred and eighty surrounded by his family and was interred in his home,” The Doctor read.
“Sounds like quite the life,” Vital said. “Is it normal for Unicorns to live that long?”
“Without self preserving spells? No,” The Doctor answered.
“Guess he was … is(?) his mother’s son, after all.”
“It is a pity that his record was lost. Such honor should be applauded, not left to molder in the dust,” Pensword said.
“Even if it weren’t, Pensword, it’s likely a new one would have replaced him over the centuries that followed,” Vital noted. “That’s usually how it is. History always has a way of repeating itself.”
“And yet we still have Alexander the Great, Caesar, most any Hurricane, Napoleon, Newton, Einestion, George Washington, Alexander Graham Bell, Arthur, William the Conqueror, Joan of Arc.”
“Still, fifteen foals is a large bloodline,” Grif noted. “Who knows? He may have surviving descendents.”
“In that case, I look forward to the chance to know them,” Rarity said. “Maybe I will already, for all we know.”
Vital chuckled. One can hope. “Say, Doc, where exactly in Manehattan was Starlight’s home?”
“I can’t be sure. The TARDIS is being … vague.”
The TARDIS’ console hissed, then let out a series of pointed beeps, followed by a whirring reminiscent of a chuckle.
“I’m going to guess that was a joke about a woman keeping secrets?” Vital asked.
“Yes.” The Doctor nodded as he worked.
“Okay, so what’s left on Hammer Strike’s list of miracles and terrors to perform before we can pick him up, Grif?”
“You realize that's a loaded question?” Grif asked. “According to history, Hammer Strike’s behind everything from the birth of Celestia to the kitten stuck up a tree a week ago. His name’s literally used when no one’s sure who accomplished something. I don’t have a list for what he’s done.”
“So, we basically just have to keep watching while we get closer to that point where we can finally pick him up?”
Grif nodded. “We’ve been blind this whole time. I thought you knew that.”
“Well, given how religiously you’ve studied Equestria’s history, I thought you might’ve picked up on a few clues for definite points. But yeah, I see what you mean.” Vital sighed.
“Don’t worry, Vital Spark, it only stings the first few times,” Pensword teased.
“You know, Pensword, I could be very cruel right now, if I wanted to be,” Vital said.
Grif let out a loud laugh at the statement.
“I know.” Pensword smiled. “But we all know you won’t be.”
“Anyway,” Grif noted, “considering these scenes seem to be jumping farther and farther ahead, I think things will get to a point where we only see glimpses of the centuries.”
“So, judging by that standard, how long do you think before we’ll be able to actually get to where Hammer Strike is by our time inside the TARDIS, Doctor?” Vital asked.
“We’ve been here for about three days, so a week? Maybe a week and a half?”
“Is it always like this when you’re traveling through longer periods of time?”
“Depends, really,” The Doctor admitted.
“Is there any chance there might be a book on temporal mechanics that I could study?” Twilight asked. “I’m curious to figure out the time differential and whether it fluctuates.”
“No.” The doctor shook his head. Idly, he pressed a green button and the library on the third floor locked down.
“Twilight, you do not want to deal or mess with time. It will always bite you back. Hard,” Pensword said.
“Well, now that that's settled, why don’t we all focus on something to help pass the time, perhaps a game?” Rarity suggested.
“What did you have in mind?” Grif asked.
“That would depend on whether people are in the mood for more Ogres and Oubliettes or if they would prefer some other game that The Doctor might have on hoof. Surely, he must have collected any number of them in his travels.”
Derpy looked pointedly at The Doctor. “Simple games only,” she said in a surprisingly firm tone.
“Of course.” The Doctor chuckled. “So, who’s up for a game?”
Vital Spark smiled. “I’ll have a go at it.”
“And so, he crept with utmost stealth to challenge no less than ten elite guards sent to detain our maker’s daughter. The challenge, to defeat his opponents and clear them away before she could emerge to continue her rounds. And all without alerting a single soul to his activities.” Zavala smiled as he addressed the audience of foals gathered around him. “I would tell you how he did it, but Cayde Six has demanded he get the chance to tell his own story, and it is his right to do so.” His smile widened into a playful smirk. “But where is Cayde, you ask?”
A glass slammed down onto the countertop as Cayde materialized on a bar seat and turned to them. “Right here.” He grinned.
The foals cheered as smiling adults allowed the bot his fun. It wasn’t often one had the chance to spread such a simple magic as wonder without having to cast a single spell.
“What came next?” some cried eagerly. Other foals would ask about how he’d managed to appear so suddenly. Others still would trip over their fellows in the rush to reach and greet him. Swarms of undead and whole troops of heavily armed warriors were nothing to the assassin. But a swarm of curious and energetic children, well, how could anyone prevent such an onslaught?
“Calm down. One at a time.” Cayde held up his hooves placatingly as he leaned back against the bar’s counter.
“I think it would be best to let him finish the tale first, children. You can ask him about his tricks after, assuming you can catch him.” Zavala winked at them, and though there were many groans of disappointment, the foals and cubs finally bent to his logic.
With a grin, Cayde slowly began to tell the tale with his own dramatic flair, extending some details while shrinking others in a long, somewhat prone-to-rambling narrative.
There were many gasps as mouths dropped and eyes shone with wonder and adoration at the mechanical automaton’s prowess. As an added bonus, Cayde went so far as to add the occasional dramatic move by drawing a weapon or performing some minor martial arts techniques to keep the children interested. In due course, the narrative finally wound down, and the children cheered the lauded hero for his mighty deeds.
“Be good, and perhaps we’ll regale you with some of our adventures after we met Lord Hammer Strike,” Zavala promised.
A small Gryphon approached the sharpshooter and maintained a sharp gaze. “Can we see you shoot after this, Mister Cayde?”
Cayde laughed. “I suppose I could do a few shots.”
The children cheered as the tavern looked on. Even Zavala couldn’t help but smile at the touching moment.
Binding raced into Hammer Strike’s house like his tail was on fire. There was no preamble. The door slammed open, and the Unicorn shouted at the top of his lungs. “Hammer Strike!”
“What’s the issue?” Hammer Strike stood up from the couch.
“My contracts are combusting. That’s the issue. Someone is slaughtering one of our villages as we speak. And given the unique method of the contracts’ destruction, I’m inclined to favor an attack of the highly magical variety.”
Hammer Strike growled as Baleful Eclipse materialized in his hoof. “What city is it?”
“Broadhoof Ford, near the gold panhandle at the edge of the dragonlands.”
Hammer Strike grit his teeth. He had a pretty good idea who the attack was from. “I warned them once,” he growled as thaumic energy wisped off him. Seconds later, a rift opened to his side. “Watch over Unity until my return.”
Binding bowed his head. “Good luck, Sir.”
Hammer Strike gave a small nod before moving through the rift.
The first thing Hammer Strike perceived was thick smoke. It seemed to belch from the very earth itself. Molten slag and partially melted stone glowed like dim eyes in the murk. Whole swaths of streets glowed orange as their cobblestones ran together and gradually cooled. The smell of roasting meat and burnt hairs singed his nostrils. If there were any survivors, they were likely in hiding. There was no sign of any form of ally, and the heat of the multicolored flames only worked to confirm his suspicions. His eyes glowed more vividly, and new embers shed off his coat as the silhouettes of fully grown adults and foals lay abandoned on the streets, buried in the rubble of houses, or reduced to so much brittle bone and ash. Death was strong in this place, and doubtless the embodiment would find his hooves very occupied guiding these villagers to their final resting place.
A cool mask of calm spread over the Pony’s face as he meditated on this likelihood. A firm resolve had taken root within him. These souls would soon be joined by their murderers.
The heft of jingling coin and the dull thump of heavy burlap sacks were evidence enough of the looters and desecrators that had dared to press into this place. More bodies registered by the river, where thick clods of mud and basin were dug up in search of the precious metals that laid within its depths. A water wheel that had powered a sluice and sieve station jutted forlornly out of the river. The crank had long since stopped, and the mesh and cloth that had been used for the process now laid in a sodden heap next to the collapsed walls of the structure. Massive gouges rent the few stones that remained standing in the structure while other fragments dotted the edge of the riverbed, a sure sign of a far larger and more powerful opponent than any of the Ponies were equipped to handle.
Two loud roars carried over the carnage as the smoke was blown aside by a powerful wind to reveal the many Dragons that dotted the landscape. Some grappled. Others hauled multiple bags between their talons. Others still picked small bones from their maws. The raiding party ranged in height from six feet to boulder to hill to nearly mountainous as two massive dragons locked in combat with talons in hand, shoving back and forth to tear the earth beneath their feet apart in the struggle.
The first was purple with dark red stripes that raced in thick bands over its body. Its horns jerked in flame-like ridges that curled and glowed in the fire that raged in its maw. Angular spines jutted down the length of its back as it glared at its opponent and swept a chunk of earth with its spaded tail in an attempt to blind him.
The second Dragon was a dark brown with thick patches of green moss that jutted from the rocky boulder-like scales that adorned its hide. Its chest was bulkier, its arms well defined. Sharpened fangs glinted dangerously as it glared at its opponent and wrapped its broad sinuous neck around its adversary in an attempt to choke it. With every passing second, the Dragons continued to grow, consumed by their greed and a desire to exert dominance, to claim the spoils for themselves alone. One could almost hear a distant hissing choral chortle as the haze of hoardlust consumed the gathering and continued to warp their frames accordingly.
If Hammer Strike didn’t act soon, there would be an entire squadron of pubescent Dragons in the grips of an endless hunger to grow, feed, and hoard to grow again.
Off on the horizon, two sets of glowing eyes watched as smoke billowed from their massive nostrils. Their shapes were far closer to the feral Western Dragons of legend from Earth. Yet they did not attack, nor did they seek to intervene in any way. If they were in charge of these Dragons, they were doing nothing to keep them in check. It was quite possible this was the exact opposite.
And if it were, there would be hell to pay. But first things came first.
“How foolish was I to be so merciful last time?” Hammer Strike growled. Taking eclipse in hoof, he pulled back and swung with the blade in an arch just as the two were attempting to grab each other’s necks in their claws. There was a searing flash of light and both Dragons fell. Their bodies hit the ground, followed by their heads. Both were still biting at one another. Their necks glowed red and still smoked at the point they had been severed. The ground quaked from the impact, and this seemed to grab the attention of the others.
“I was clearly too naive to believe your kind capable of understanding my warning last time,” Hammer Strike snarled. “Allow me to explain in terms you will understand.”
Two more dove at him in greed-drunk rage, not out of vengeance, but in an attempt to take the weapon from him. Jumping with as much power as he could, Hammer Strike rose into the air and swung. One of the two started plummeting as their wing was sliced off. The other wasn’t quite so lucky as the scythe blade bit into their lower back and kept going until it came out the other side, leaving the Dragon nearly cut in two pieces, both Dragons landed with a roaring thud that muted Hammer Strike’s own landing.
A few of the less intoxicated Dragons attempted to turn, but Hammer strike didn’t let them get out of his view. He set Eclipse down and began hurling javelins at them. The weapons were ineffective on their scales; however, their wings were soon shredded.
One of the older Dragons opened his maw and attempted to bathe Hammer Strike in its breath; however, the magical fire merly caressed the Earth Pony in a tender, almost loving fashion. Hammerstrike swept up Eclipse and sent it flying toward the dragon. As it took that dragon’s head, Hammerstrike turned to his next target. This Dragon was larger and clearly much older than the others. Hammer strike’s eyes glowed a deep red as adrenaline and rage fed him. He charged up to the creature and leaped onto it’s back. Before it could reach him, he grasped its neck with both sets of hooves and began to pull.
Dragon bone is one of the strongest, if not the strongest substance on Equis. It absorbs force and impacts without much issue. Most would tell a person that breaking a dragon's neck was impossible, but as the final Dragon watched, Hammer Strike pulled and twisted with all the force he could muster. A loud sickening crack echoed through the air. The elder dragon let out a pained roar as it’s body tumbled to the ground, twitching and writhing.
The second Dragon eyed the Pony with a mask of calm as it scrutinized him. “You are not a normal creature. Just what are you?”
“Beyond these silly games. Now,” Hammer Strike’s hoof glowed brightly with thaumic energy as he stomped. The Dragon in question found itself suddenly prone before him. “We’re talking at my level. I left your kind alone last time an incident such as this occurred. I gave you all mercy after attacking my subjects. This will be the last time,” Hammer Strike growled. Deep within himself, he felt one of the Alicorn artifacts resonate with his words. “I’ll grant you a mercy, but you will spend the remainder of your time in your homelands warning each and every dragon that this, will not stand anymore. I will not hold back again. You and yours are never to attack my charges again. Am I clear?”
The dragon’s eyes flashed, and an agonized growl of frustration tore through the beast’s maw. “And what are your charges?” it spat in a barely perceptible mode of speech.
“Every Pony settlement, be it Earth, Pegasi, Thestral, or Unicorn. Including every other race who resides within their walls.”
The Dragon roared and snarled as it struggled against the force that held it in place, even while it wrestled with the compulsion that now weighed so heavily upon it. “I will tell your message.” It spat spitefully as green sparks the size of beach balls blew from its nostrils. “But you must tell your ‘charges’ not to come to our lands.”
“Simple enough, since they refuse to do anything with your lands, unless it’s travel.”
“Release me, then, so I may give your little message.” Deep furrows of earth had been dug to form what would equate to a minor lakebed beneath the Dragon’s sizable talons. His eyes glowed balefully as his forked tongue darted out in an angry hiss.
Hammer Strike released his restraints with a wave of his hoof, and the predator surged off balance to fall on its tail in a disgraceful lack of coordination. Its indignation was barely kept in check by the dead stare and raised eyebrow of the creature that had not only bested it, but soundly chastised it and bound it with a magic that no Pony had been able to bring to bear in all its many years.
Yes, it hated this creature. And it would make sure all its brethren would hate it. The warning would spread. And then, when the creature was old and frail, they would visit hell upon it and destroy this paltry contract, then claim the spoils that waited for their own. It flapped its wings and flew toward the glittering gem-studded peaks that jutted above the trees in the land beyond. Even with its flight, the Pony did not yield to the strength of its wingbeats. This anomaly could defeat a fully grown Dragon in a matter of seconds. And now it stood against the raw force of the elements the Dragons controlled by sheer force of will. It barely suppressed a shudder as that thought reached an unpleasant conclusion. What if this creature wasn’t mortal?
It launched a stream of fire as a final show of strength, paltry though it was compared to what Hammer Strike had just demonstrated, and departed for its den and the many others of its kind that waited.
“They’ll be back.” Hammer Strike sighed deeply. “Ainz, Lord!” he called out.
“Yes?” two voices asked.
“I need you both here. If possible, Ainz, bring Anderson. A lot of death has happened today.”
Lord appeared instantly, and Ainz several minutes later with Anderson in tow.
“Bloody hells, Hammer Strike,” Anderson swore as he took in the carnage. “You really went to town on them, didn’t you?”
“Not now, Anderson.” Hammer Strike frowned. “A lot of individuals in this town have passed, and I figured you to be the best for their rites. Ainz, Lord, I need you to search over the town, see if there are any survivors hidden away. If not, I’d like you to assist in dealing with the corpses.” He looked out upon the settlement once more. “This place will likely never recover.”
“That seems likely.” Lord sighed. “They decimated it.”
“How many?” Anderson asked more seriously.
“At least five thousand potential, rough estimate,” Hammer Strike calculated.
“That many?” Anderson looked sadly over the wreckage.
“This was a resource-heavy town. Many came here for work.”
“I’ll need a team to bless the ground and prepare the burials. This is too much for one man of the cloth to do alone.”
“Could you assist him, Ainz, then search the grounds?”
“I’ll start immediately,” Ainz acknowledged as a portal opened and his servants began to shuffle out.
“If they start getting peckish, I’ll break their jaws off,” Anderson warned.
“Not all of us are so base with our impulses, priest,” Ainz returned, not bothering to look at him.
Anderson sighed. “All right. All right. You have a point. Just … could you conjure a portal to the edge of the church? A consecration and burial this large will need more than me to finish properly, and I’ll need to organize the other priests. That should give you enough time to gather the remains in peace and send these back before we invoke Lady Faust. You may fare well enough against her power, but a lesser undead might be another story.”
“Oh, they’ll be done well before that,” Ainz said. “You underestimate my power.”
“For five thousand?”
“For a force that neither eats nor sleeps?”
“Just how many of these are you bringing through?”
“That is my business.”
“And the portal to the church?”
With a roll of his glowing eyes, Ainz waved a hand and a second portal rose.
“Thank you. We’ll be back in a couple of hours.”
“I’ll leave all of this to you all. I shall return to Unity.” Hammer Strike sighed as he approached the portal.
“What about the leftovers of the dragons?” Ainz asked.
“Clean the corpses and prep the materials as usual. Remove anything … broken.”
“Very well.” Ainz nodded.
Hammer Strike frowned as he looked over a series of blueprints before him. With his newly acquired materials, he thought it best to upgrade the guards’ equipment through whatever means needed. It would take a length of time, but if it provided more security for everyone under him, then so be it.
It hit Hammer Strike suddenly, a terrible pang, one so deep that it seemed to dig into the bones of Equis itself. Power ebbed and flowed around the planet. Someone was using old magic, magic older and more powerful than anything below a god could possibly use and survive.
Whatever it was was hundreds of miles away, and yet from here, he could feel the energy tinged with blood, sacrifice, and love weaved into its being. Something very powerful was about to happen. And in the center of it was an oath, an oath to bring protection to those who were unable to defend themselves, and a more powerful oath to bring blood and fire to those who dared to inflict such harms unjustly.
This all colessed into a feeling of a familiar entity birthed upon Equis. It was in two parts, and Hammer Strike could tell what it was almost instantly. Even from a continent away, he recognized that energy signature that he’d examined multiple times, the feeling of something he was loath to admit he didn’t fully understand. Vigilance and Vengeance had come into the world at last, birthed by some being far away to aid a Gryphon in protecting his kind.
“So, that’s when they were made,” he muttered to himself. He frowned as he thought over said blades once again. “It’s certainly been awhile since I’ve even thought of them.”
“Lord hammer strike.” Hurricane entered the cabin. “The Gate Guard have someone that is asking to talk to you.”
“They’re not being allowed entry?” Hammer Strike closed the book he was reading.
“They are, but they have repeatedly asked for you. It has something to do with Jostling Joyance.”
Hammer Strike stood immediately from his chair, leaving the book forgotten. “Which gate?”
“The southern one, Sir.”
Hammer Strike nodded to Hurricane as he went on his way. It didn’t take him long to arrive, but as Hurricane had noted, the guards that were currently stationed had a mare off to the side with two foals. The first was bundled in a tattered cloth and lovingly cradled in her foreleg. His dark blue coat accented his fiery eyes. The other was a pale mare with a long glossy black mane and icy blue pools that took in the space even as she huddled close to the figure. The mother was an Earth Pony with a honeyed amber coat and an even brighter mane. Her eyes were bloodshot and glistened with unshed tears. However, as soon as she spotted Hammer Strike approaching, she drew herself up and fixed him with a steely gaze.
“Jostling told me you were tall,” she said. “I just didn’t expect it to be this much.”
“I was told you were looking for me. Did something happen?”
She nodded and offered a brief bow to the lord. “Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Diamond Rough. I’m Jostling’s wife.” She took a deep breath to steady herself, but maintained her gaze. “And widow. We were attacked by an old adversary on our honeymoon. The three of us are the only survivors from that tragic event. Jostling sacrificed himself, so that we could live. I have enough means to provide for our family, thanks to Jostling’s inheritance, but what I don’t possess is the means to protect them from that monster’s minions. He … that is to say Jostling told me to find you and ask for your help.”
Hammer Strike’s expression softened. “That, I can do.” He gestured for her to follow him. “I can show you to his old abode. He never stayed long, but we kept it in shape. I’m sorry for your loss.”
Diamond Rough nodded. “So am I. When should I expect your contract?”
“Later.” Hammer Strike sighed. “I kept an eye on things to make sure you weren’t lying, so I have enough faith to hold off on it until a better time.”
Diamond shook her head. “I appreciate the sentiment, but I don’t want any special treatment. Send it at your earliest convenience. We’ll be ready. I know you’re a busy leader. If you could just point us in the right direction, we’ll be on our way, and you can visit at a time when you aren’t occupied.” She wrapped her free foreleg around the filly at her side and gave her a supportive squeeze, then gave a weak smile. “Best I get these little ones tucked into bed as soon as I can. They’ve had a long journey.”
“You don’t need to worry about me being busy. Despite the current circumstances, I’m actually free at the moment.” Hammer Strike gave a soft smile. “The least I can do is show you fully to the house.”
She nodded daintily. “Thank you.”
“As I said, It’s the least I can do.”
“Welcome, friends,” Ainz said magnanimously from his throne as he addressed the collection of beings in front of him. A few looked vaguely like their original species, heavily armored Minotaurs or Dragons that left no skin showing. But many others had long since given such luxuries up for the power they’d gained. More than one slime being stood before him, their bodies having lost all form and melded together in a single mass in order to aid their search for immortality. Some of the monsters before him wore simple clothing. Some wore fine. Others wore none. Overall, he’d been surprised so many had answered his call. Forty beings of the darkest arts and sciences stood before him to hear him out.
“I’ve invited you all here to talk about something all of our kind want, but have a very hard time finding. Can someone tell me what I’m referring to?”
They looked at him silently, not ready to answer.
“Safety” he told them. “Swear to me under my patron, and my patron will return to each of you your sanity and soul in the event that you already lost them in return for your security. Together, we can build our own kingdom within this tomb.”
There was grumbling and looks of disbelief passed amongt many of those present at the lich’s word, but nobody had left yet.
“It is through this patron that I, myself, ascended to lichdom and claimed true immortality. But what's more is that I did not need to swear to any dark pacts for it. My patron only asked for my loyalty. And that is all he asks of you.”
Ainz spent the next hour recounting his story and explaining Hammer Strike’s unique capability and everything his deal would entail. He spelled out the terms clearly, including what failure would mean. By the end of his pitch, he had them lining up to check his bonds as proof. The former Minotaur chuckled internally at the show. It was already obvious. By the end of the day, he’d have every last one of them under his thumb.
Miscellaneous guards twenty-three through twenty-eight sighed as they leaned tiredly on their spears and watched the lazy flow of traffic through the city gates. The soft hum of Hammer Strike’s warding spells and unique magics did most, if not all, of the work for them, so there wasn’t much of a need to be quite so resolute. This was one of the reasons they had not been given the honor of being addressed by their given names in the first place. They had yet to earn that privilege from their superiors after going through their initial training.
The Ponies stared with glassy eyes as they struggled to keep their yawns in check. This was to be an endurance mission, even if it did feel like torture. Number twenty-four had just finished with a particularly wide and long yawn when the gateway flared. The runes ignited. A sheet of light stretched over the portal as five living green bonfires blazed brightly for less than a second. When they snuffed, the most bizarre creatures they had ever laid eyes on now stared at them. They looked like Ponies, but … their legs were riddled with holes. A pair of translucent insect wings were folded on each of their backs. Large reflective insect eyes blinked in surprise as they looked over themselves.
The recruits were swift to react, raising their weapons to surround the creatures.
“State your business, creatures. Are you undead or otherwise associated with night walkers?” Twenty-four demanded.
“We’re Changelings,” one said as it recovered its wits. “We are neither undead nor monsters.”
“And what is your business in Unity that you would require disgusing yourselves, rather than approaching openly?”
“Our kind is not well liked,” the Changeling said. “We must speak with your ruler.”
“To what end?”
“That is our business.”
“And the security of this city and its residents is ours. Our lord has had to deal with sieges, assassins, undead, and many other unpleasant attempts on his life and domain. As such, you can understand our caution toward you. If the need is legitimate, your request will be forwarded, and our lord will gladly meet with you. Indeed, as a form of first contact, I am certain he would be most interested to get to know you and your culture, assuming you are here for the proper reason.”
“We must talk with him about a member of our kind who may be hiding in your village. He is a criminal.”
“Odds are he won’t have been able to sneak in unnoticed, but I’m a Pony of my word. We’ll forward the request to our superiors. It shouldn’t take long for Lord Hammer Strike to respond.”
True to the trainee’s prediction, Hammer Strike was swift to arrive. He eyed the Changelings with a flat expression and examined them carefully. When he’d spent enough time observing their forms, he withdrew and addressed them properly.
“I haven’t heard any reports of Changelings in the region. What brings you to Unity?”
“We are searching for a member of our kind who escaped custody and fled.”
“Then I’m sorry to say you’re out of luck.” Hammer Strike frowned. “I would have received a report if the sensors went off, but you’re the only ones to have set them off.”
“You're certain? This criminal is very dangerous and highly inventive.”
“Can you give me a description, so I can send word around, just in case?”
“He is roughly about half your size. Possibly bearing a crest on his head, with a long mane. He answers to the name of Bane.”
Hammer Strike hummed. “I’ll send word out, then. Is there anything else I should be wary of?”
“No, that will be all,” the Changeling assured him a little too swiftly.
“Then I believe that concludes that. Was this the sole reason for your visit, or will you be exploring the city?”
“That was all,” the drone said. “With your permission, we have a long journey to return to our hive.”
“Have a safe trip,” Hammer Strike replied with a faint grin as they turned and left. After a few minutes and ensuring they were all gone, he frowned. “Keep an eye out for more alerts on the proximity alarms.”
The trainees saluted immediately. “Yes, Sir!”
Hammer Strike nodded. “I’ll alert Hurricane and the others. Keep up the good work.”
The recruits beamed, their exhaustion forgotten. Hammer Strike had complimented them personally! The rest of the recruits would never believe it.
Hammer Strike sighed as he made his way through the levels carved under his home until he came across a small space created for a familiar Changeling’s workspace. “Seems they know you’re alive,” he commented as he entered.
“I was worried about that.” Bane sighed. “You managed to turn them away?”
“For now, but they’re likely to try and find a way around our systems. Won’t work, but they’re going to stick around for some time.” Hammer Strike sighed in turn. “They shouldn’t be able to detect you, even disguised as ‘Broker,’ right?”
“They wouldn’t be able to see me if they were standing in this room right now,” Bane assured him.
“I mean, yeah, but to cover all assets, I’m meaning in the sense that if they somehow did manage to enter, ‘Broker’ won’t just mysteriously not be around, even though he should be.”
“They won’t find me. That much I’m certain of,” bane said. “How many?”
“Five at the gate. Probably a few more in hiding, so that’s going to be fun.” Hammer Strike sighed.
Bane shook his head. “Not an issue. it’s been so long, they’ve started to underestimate me.”
“Well, that’s good at the least, but I’d rather not risk you coming to light. Yes, it’ll be manageable, but I doubt we’ll want to deal with this in the long haul.” Hammer Strike frowned. “We may have to really hide your presence. The fact that they know you’re alive is already more than I’d like.”
“That makes two of us,” Bane agreed. “I’d rather be thought dead.”
“We’ll have to rework your network a little, make it nigh undetectable. I should have a relay system that’ll work.”
“I’ll notify the crews to lay low for a while.”
“All right. Beyond that, I’ll start having Ainz track their movements.”
“If he can, it would be best to have him take them out quietly before they report back.”
Hammer Strike smirked. “Now that is something he can manage easily.”
Hammer Strike frowned to himself as he looked over the singular die in his hoof. His lessons with Clover were nearly up to the edge of the safe territory, and there were only so many things to discuss. One of which involved the die in his hoof.
They were more powerful than most objects could be, having the ability to create items and attune them properly from just a simple roll of luck. They were laced with primal energy, which was something he only briefly covered in their earlier lessons, and he wasn’t sure if it was a good idea to discuss it more. Though it could be important information later on in regards to the gods and divine seeds.
Currently, he was seated at their training grounds, a large section of land outside the city walls layered in stone to give them a stable place to work with. There wasn’t much there besides that, giving them plenty of open space to work.
Clover arrived with a pop. “Good afternoon,” she said cheerfully.
“Good afternoon,” Hammer Strike replied as he turned his attention to her. “Eager as ever for these lessons, aren’t you?”
“Why wouldn’t I be? I get to spend time with you and learn something entirely new. It’s a win-win scenario.”
Hammer Strike chuckled. “Fair enough. Here. Our next lesson will cover this.” He held out the die for her to take. “Take it physically. No magic.”
Clover took it and studied the die carefully.
“I only covered it briefly, but that … seems to rely on it. Primal energy.”
“But you told me that primal energy doesn’t form naturally.”
“To a point,” he corrected. “The best example I can give is Binding. If you’ve noticed, he’s shown no sign of aging, and neither has Wall or Swift Wings. He has what some would refer to as a divine seed. It’s a faint trace of primal energy that resides within an individual, giving them the capability of rising to great feats.”
“So, what does this do?” she asked, referring to the die.
Hammer Strike took a moment to think over his response before exhaling. “Roll it.”
Clover raised an eyebrow before she threw the die out before her. It tumbled across the stone floor for several turns before landing on the number twenty. A bright flash of light blinded Clover while Hammer Strike turned away at the last second. As the light faded, before them stood another twenty-sided die. This one, however, appeared to be solid gold in coloration, and visibly radiated energy off of it.
“I’ve … never seen a die like that,” Hammer Strike noted. A tahumic scan revealed an overly bright point of power that was blinding to look at. Similar to before however, it was primal in nature.
“What do i do?” Clover asked.
“Well, you rolled it once. I feel you’ve earned the right to roll it again. Every time I have seen it rolled or rolled it myself, it left an item behind that was certainly interesting in what it could do. I have never seen it roll into another die.”
Clover carefully picked the die up and tossed it again. This time, it rolled and landed on the number sixteen. Similar to before, both of them turned away at the last second as a flash of light burst forth from the die. After a moment, it cleared, revealing a small white cylindrical container. There was nothing else on it.
“So … what is it?” Clover asked as she moved to pick the tube up.
“Now that, I have no idea.” Hammer Strike shrugged. “It rolls items of immense power or amazing properties. I once rolled a die that gave me an apple-like object. After eating it, I blacked out for a brief second, only for my augments to read out that my muscle density and other parameters were different. I was nearly twice as strong from it. It certainly helped with fighting the Alicorns,” he muttered the last part.
Clover picked the tube up carefully. It was plain with no real markings. One end twisted off to reveal a white creamy substance inside.
“Reminds me of facial cream.” Hammer Strike shrugged.
“I suppose. Why would an ancient artifact like this give me facial cream, though?”
Hammer Strike shrugged again. “Why would it give me an apple? Only way we can figure it out is for you to try it.”
With a shrug, Clover dabbed some on her hoof and began to apply it.
The cream didn’t appear to do anything at first. Her fur was a little glossier, but that could easily be attributed to natural oils, rather than any magical properties. However, as the substance continued to work, subtle changes began to take place. The bags under the mare’s eyes began to shrink. The wrinkles that had been born from years of frowning over books and analyzing in her laboratory smoothed and tightened. Her horn sparked with a sudden burst of mana that whirled up the spiral like an electrical current before discharging. She shuddered as the stiffness in her limbs eased into limber flexibility and the many knots born of her own stress unwound themselves and straightened. A new brightness sparkled in her eyes as the vigor of her younger days surged over her frame.
“Well.” Hammer Strike blinked a few times. “That’s certainly something.”
“I feel … amazing.” Clover said as she blinked in surprise. “Most de-aging spells can’t get rid of the actual feeling of age, but I feel young again.”
“That’s good to hear.” Hammer Strike smiled. “Well, I’m sure you understand the deal with those dice by this point. They’re … interesting, to say the least.”
“And dangerous.”
“Hence why I’ve collected them whenever I’ve seen them.”
“Are there more?” she asked, surprised. “Do you have a way of tracking them?”
“The best way of tracking them is by noting the primal energy, but beyond that, it’s hard to locate them at a distance.” Hammer Strike sighed. “Hence why I check the market often.”
“Have you put a bounty out on them?”
“I can’t bring too much notice to them, or others will begin to investigate them.” Hammer Strike frowned. “To bring attention to something lets others know its worth.”
“What about a general bounty on anything with a strange energy source?” Clover suggested. “They might think you’re just eccentric.”
“Perhaps, but it might be best to have it under your name. Most things I do tend to bring notice.” Hammer Strike sighed.
“I’ll get started on it,” Clover promised.
Hammer Strike nodded. “Well, shall we continue our lesson?”
She grinned. “Of course.”
“I’m sorry, Hammer Strike, but I must object. Having a litch under contract is one thing, but summoning a whole host of soulless creatures at once? To seize back control of what they already freely sacrificed is a monumental task that few, if any, could ever manage. You imperil yourself with every attempt,” Star Swirl said from his place on the cottage’s living room couch.
“Well, technically, most of them were taken against their will, making it easier,” Hammer Strike noted. “Secondly, not really. They’re bound to my will, to a point, so it’s not really that bad.”
“To a point? Are you listening to yourself?”
“I don’t completely diminish their free will, simply set it where they can’t work against mine,” Hammer Strike replied flatly.
“And what safeguards do you have in place in the event that your own will should be twisted?”
“Binding and Clover,” Hammer Strike replied. “They are the alternative note on the checks. Majority agrees, it works. If not, it doesn’t. Simple as that.”
“And your … unique branch of magic. You are still continuing to use it, despite the dangers?”
“My point being it will be your undoing if you don’t stop using it.”
“Again, your point?” Hammer Strike replied with a raised brow. “To add on to your statement, if I stop, it’ll lead to the downfall of not only myself, but all those under me.”
“You don’t know that!” he snapped.
“And you don’t know that it will end in disaster,” Hammer Strike replied flatly. “You cry and whine about how what I do is unnatural, how I put everyone in danger. Let’s put this straight. Who is running this kingdom?”
Star Swirl retained a sullen but silent stare as he drew himself up and his beard seemed almost to writhe in the air.
“What. Is the state of those under me, of the civilians living in each and every one of these towns under my rule?” Hammer Strike stood from his seat.
“But at what cost?” Star Swirl demanded. “The things you have accomplished border on the divine. To invoke that kind of power always requires a price. What will you do when the bill comes due?”
“What do you think I’m dealing with already?” Hammer Strike roared in response. “I’ve spent countless years, countless years watching everyone grow old and die around me. I watched the fall of an entire civilization. I suffered year after year of torture, day in and day out. Yet here I am, alive. I can’t die by almost any means. Instead, I suffer through anything in my way until I can free myself from it. It’s only times like this where I finally get some time to enjoy myself.”
“Enjoy yourself? By constantly dealing with sieges and assassination attempts?”
“Almost anything is better than what I have already experienced.”
“Are you a god, then?”
Hammer Strike scoffed. “Of course not. Though they are interesting to interact with.”
“Just what haven’t you had contact with by this point?” Star Swirl cried in exasperation.
“Gods of other races,” Hammer Strike replied. “Well, apart from Dragons.”
Star Swirl balked. “You spoke with Bahamut and lived to tell the tale?”
“Correct.”
“Are you even still a Pony by this point?”
“Mostly, yes.” Hammer Strike sighed.
“And the part that isn’t?”
“Was ripped out of me by the Alicorns,” Hammer Strike replied flatly. “Is this conversation finished?”
“If Lord Hammer Strike wishes it,” Star Swirl said sullenly.
“At this point in time, it sounds like a good idea,” Hammer Strike replied simply. “While these conversations may be … entertaining, they’re best in short bursts.”
“Very well.” Star Swirl trotted out of the room toward the house door. “Just be careful,” he finished, then finally left.
Hammer Strike waited until he was positive the mage had really gone before he let out a deep sigh, placing a hoof on his head.
“Had a good visit?” Clover asked as she entered the room.
“I’d rather kick him out the next time he comes.”
“You talked with him for fifteen minutes. I spent most of my foalhood with him,” Clover pointed out.
“Yes, and while I am patient, and there are few things that hit a nerve for me, he tends to try and find them,” Hammer Strike noted. “As the phrase goes, you do not poke a sleeping ursa.”
“He believes what he’s doing is right. Unfortunately, he doesn’t consider he could be wrong.” Clover sighed. “The part of his brain that tells him to stop and think is constantly getting a wedgie from the rest of his brain.”
“It will bite him down the line. Either that or his research into time-based magic will.”
“You’re aware of that, then?”
“It’s somewhat obvious to note. That, and the information network is quite useful.”
“Those who live in glass houses, huh?”
“Precisely.”
When a veil is mentioned, it is often used to describe a happy event or the necessity for privacy. It is a boundary that is not to be crossed without permission, lest terrible consequences befall the interloper. And so it had been with the veil that separated Equis from other worlds. Many paths branched from this network in a manner not unlike the spreading of roots or the many neural pathways of the brain. The greater hubs were the locations where the nerves could fire or water could be gathered fastest. Other worlds served as destination points, receivers of the signal to act.
It was never certain where Equis landed in regards to this layout, due to the fact that it had remained so remote compared to the other worlds, but it did prove an excellent vacation spot for many a fae and other creature from foreign worlds. However, all of that changed when a single blazing hoof stepped through thin air into the fresh air of Equestria again. Her golden horseshoes were scuffed and heavily tarnished. Her eyes streaked with tears as her mane glowed with the light of a dying fire. And with her passing came a ripple through the air that spread well beyond. A single limp figure lay draped across her back. Blood soaked Celestia’s armor and dyed her flank. She didn’t care.
She was home again.
She didn’t care.
And even as her own sides heaved with her sobs, so, too, did the world heave as the veil between worlds writhed in agony.
Back in Unity, Harmony quickly materialized and gasped by Hammer Strike. “Something just happened to alter the balance of order in the veil between the worlds.”
“So that’s what it was.” Hammer Strike frowned. “It felt like something was just cut off.”
“It was.” Harmony smacked her lips. “Celestia made it just in time. But … something is wrong.”
“Agreed, but I can’t quite put a hoof on it.” He frowned. “She’s probably soon to be on her way back here.” he noted, standing from his chair. “Though how long that will take, I’m uncertain.”
“My brother will take strength from this event. There are many who Equis is seeking to alter, now that the connection has been cut off. The chaos will be ripe for the picking.”
Hammer Strike sighed. “We’ll just have to see how things progress from here.”
It took several months before the mare finally returned home again. When she arrived, her sword lay in a heavily worn scabbard. A cloak obscured her fur, and her expression was filled with sadness and fatigue, even as she forced it into a neutral mask.
Hammer Strike stood outside the city gates as he awaited Celestia’s return. He looked her over before giving a soft frown. “You don’t have to say anything.”
“Thank you,” she said softly.
Hammer Strike placed a hoof on her shoulder. “Come. I kept your room clean while you were gone.”
Celestia nodded and leaned against her Father. “Thank you.” This time, her voice cracked.
Hermes sighed as he looked to the east. The feeling was gone, but the aftereffects were clear. The veil between worlds was no longer thin enough to travel through easily. That meant magic had finally died on Earth, making the planet toxic to all but the most powerful of his kind, and thus deadly to him. Hermes was trapped.
It was a risk he’d been aware of, of course, one he’d been planning for. He had no home back on earth. His father had lost his sanity long before he’d been born, and what little sane family he had left jumped ship years ago. Still, he felt a strange sense of emptiness at the thought that his former home was cut off to him. The god of travelers and crossroads was stranded in an entirely different world, and that thought was ... unsettling.
Still, he’d turn his attention forward. He’d found a pleasant little group who’d taken to his stories of the messenger of the gods. He’d even gotten a few wisps of faith from them. Perhaps this was a place to start, somewhere small where he could sustain himself on a few beings while he helped them on their way.
Yes. For now, this would do.
Rem and Ram both smiled as they went about their work cleaning rugs, hanging laundry, and tending to the flower beds. The pink and blue devils both had adjusted well to their time of service, and took great pleasure in tending to their master’s home while he served Hammer Strike. As the two continued to till the land, Ram paused and stretched casually. “Rem, I believe we have visitors.”
Ram continued to tend the flower bed. “Hostile intent?” she asked casually.
“No. Too small for that. And not nearly stealthy enough.” Rem joined her sister in weeding. “Should we invite them in?”
“Better to go to them. I doubt the master would appreciate it if we left his estate open to just anyone to enter.”
Rem nodded. “Then let’s do it.”
Out in the bushes, four foals twitched idly in the brush as they peeked through the leaves at the strange mares. Their curved horns were unusual, and they’d heard the two were supposed to be devils, but the mares had never caused any trouble in the city before. And besides, they were curious.
“You know, it’s rude to spy on people while they are working,” Rem’s voice stated calmly from behind.
The foals squealed as they jumped out of the brush and into Ram’s magical grip.
“Now I wonder what our little spies could be here for, Rem,” Ram said.
“Perhaps we should ask them, Ram.”
“An excellent idea, Rem.” Ram smiled playfully as she lowered the foals to the ground. Rem stood on their other side to prevent escape before their own curiosity was satisfied. “What brings you to our master’s house, little ones?”
A young mare cast the occasional glance Ram’s way, then averted her gaze as she spoke. “We … wanted to ask you a question.”
“And what might that be?”
The filly scuffed her hoof in the dirt. “Father Anderson told us an idle mind is a devil’s workshop. And, well … he said you two were devils, so … we were wondering. Is he right? And … if he is, how do you do it? Our heads are too small for you to get inside, aren’t they?”
Rem looked at Ram. Both maintained perfectly straight faces for five long seconds. And then they laughed.
“It’s not funny!” the filly protested. “We wanna know!”
“I’m sorry, little one.” Rem barely kept herself from collapsing into another fit of giggles. “To answer your question, no, we can’t enter your head directly. There are some magics we can employ that allow us access to a person’s mind or the ability to influence their thought processes, certainly, but we rarely use them. Most of the time, we just have to say the right words to the right person and the chaos sews itself.” She smiled and booped the filly on the nose. “Fortunately for all of you, we are bound to our master, and our master is bound to Hammer Strike. So, you don’t have to worry about us planting any ideas he wouldn’t approve of, magically or not.”
“Hey, quit it!” The filly giggled as Rem continued to poke and tease her.
“Besides, our master frowns on doing anything to children. You’re all still too innocent,” Ram noted idly. “But since you four have enough time to spy on us, how about you help us weed the master’s garden as penance?”
A unified groan rose.
“As payment, then,” Ram continued. “Equivalent exchange. We gave you information, so you can give us a small service in return.”
“And if you perform your task well, we may reward you,” Rem added. “Come. It’s not that hard. I thought you foals enjoyed getting dirty.”
“They may not be bad,” the filly said.
“But they sure know how to punish,” a colt finished as they were herded into the little garden.
“Less talking,” Rem started.
“More digging,” Ram finished as she handed them some gardening tools.
“So, to get this all straight, Father married Clover, they had a son, a new baby brother, he grew up, and he left on his own, all while our little village grew into a prosperous city state with multiple vassal settlements?” Celestia asked as she guzzled from a stein full of tea with reckless abandon. Yharon and Luna had both joined her, and each sat on either a chair or cushions respectively as their bodies required while they congregated in Celestia’s room.
“That about sums it up, yes,” Yharon said as he eyed the herb pots that now lay scattered haphazardly on the floor. “I see your love of tea has only strengthened since you left us.”
“It is … a coping mechanism of sorts,” Celestia admitted.
“You’ve had trouble in your travels?” Luna asked.
“Trouble is putting it lightly.” Celestia sighed. “I fell in love, Luna.” Tears threatened to overflow their bounds. “And I fear I’ve lost him forever.”
Fabric shredded as Yharon’s talons tensed. “Did someone hurt you?”
Luna was more controlled in her reaction as she wrapped a wing around her sister. “How did it happen?”
“I … I don’t know if I’m ready to talk about it. At least … not all of it.” She shuddered. “His … his name was—is Arthur.”
“Go on,” Yharon encouraged.
“I may need something stronger before I can. Sister, Father mentioned you’ve been experimenting with brewing lately. Do you have anything on hoof?”
Yharon’s scaly brow rose in surprise. “You drink now?”
“When circumstances require it.” Celestia swallowed heavily. “And I would say this is definitely one of those times.”
Luna’s horn lit and a tankard floated to them. “This is cider I’ve been working with. I think it should do the trick.”
Celestia drank deeply. “I’m half tempted to ask for salt to go with it.”
“That’s a no,” Yharon said. “We need to actually understand what you’re saying. You can lick yourself senseless after.”
“Start with the good times, Sister,” Luna offered. “The bad can wait.”
Celestia nodded. “It started in a war-torn land with a single shining city at its heart. They called it Camelot.”
Hammer Strike hummed to himself as he looked over his reports. From what each town was saying, the upgrade to the gear was serving each of them well. In every case, any incidents that they had to deal with were repelled with ease. He wasn’t able to do everything he wanted, but it was manageable, and better than before.
Clover arrived with a pop, looking worried. “We have a problem.”
“What’s the issue?” Hammer Strike placed the reports down as he stood from his chair.
“Have you by chance noticed today has been going a little … long?” Clover asked.
“I’ve … been inside all day. What do you mean it’s been long?” Hammer Strike frowned. “You can’t possibly mean…”
“The sun rose at five thirty this morning, and it hasn’t set since, it’s five thirty again now,” Clover explained.
Hammer Strike’s frown deepened as he moved from his office toward the door. Stepping outside revealed exactly that, the sun mid-sky, despite being just sunrise. “That’s ... definitely not good.”
“Me and a few of the Unicorns have pried at it, but we don’t have the power to move it. They’re just holding it there,” Clover said.
“You would all burn yourselves out trying to move it,” Hammer Strike noted as he started thinking things over.
“This is their tactic,” Clover said. “I warned you it would happen eventually. They’ll try and make us surrender by denying us the solar-lunar cycle.”
Hammer Strike clenched his jaw in frustration. “They’ll damn the world just to take our people.”
“They believe we’ll fall before they will. The thing is, by the time they start doubting that, the damage could be catastrophic.”
“What are our available options?”
“I could create a spell to filter out the sunlight during the night, but I'd only be able to do it over Unity. We could move everyone to the Thestral caves, but that's a massive undertaking.”
“It would take too long and stress the situation further.”
“There’s also Ainz’s tomb.”
“Not fit for living subjects long-term.”
“Well, I can’t think of anything else without fundamentally altering the biology of everyone in our lands, and I don’t have the power or the time for that magical formula.”
Hammer Strike took a breath. “Ex divinia etiam. I’ll … I’ll have to go through drastic measures.”
Faces, hooves, and tails stuck out as the pair passed by houses, yards, and store fronts. With the continual blast of light and heat from the sun, the various denizens of the cities were left to ponder over the future. But Hammer Strike had saved them from worse. He’d turned back the undead hordes, eliminated invading forces, obliterated obstacle after obstacle, and even gone so far as to be able to counter Unicorn magic. Surely, he would be able to save them again, even with something seemingly impossible. He was the stallion that made the impossible possible.
“What will you do?” Clover asked him.
“I’m going to show you why you don’t poke the sleeping Ursa,” Hammer Strike noted as a grin crossed his muzzle. He stopped in the town square and directed his attention to those around him. “Citizens of Unity, come forth!”
The Ponies were already hiding around anyway, so it didn’t take them long to file out, albeit somewhat sheepishly. They expected potential rebuke, though they hoped for comfort first. No one wanted to bow to the tyranny of Unicorn nobility. The few that remained in hiding were easily escorted out by guards in a gentle but firm manner.
“Doubtless, you are all aware of our current situation. The Unicorns have decided to throw their weight in an attempt to have us yield, and for me to relinquish control of every settlement and subject to them. Know this! I won’t damn you all to that fate, nor will I damn you to eternal daylight,” Hammer Strike called out.
A low murmur carried through the gathering. What did their lord have in mind? Was he going to cease defensive action and engage in an active campaign? Was he about to call for war?
“Though they throw the sun at us in this attempt, I refuse to let them succeed.” He couldn’t help but let a grin spread across his muzzle. “Nor will I allow any Unicorns within our cities to burn themselves out in a collective bid to seize control of the sun and moon for ourselves. No, I will do much better than that.” Thaumic energy began to coalesce outside of him. “I won’t let them have the pleasure of watching us fall.”
“You can’t,” Clover whispered tersely. “The cost could kill you.”
“And I’m too stubborn to die.” His smile turned confident as the thaumic power began to grow within him. He took every ounce of power within his field, and even began to actively absorb the mana coming from the planet as he formed a tether. It took him a minute to reach out for the sun and moon. Both were coated by magic, the Unicorn nobles doubtlessly trying to hold them still. It didn’t take much effort to rip through their hold on the celestial bodies. That part was easy.
The hard part was moving them after the fact.
He strained as he added more and more force to the sun and moon, attempting to continue their cycle. He grit his teeth as it fought back against his control, burning away at his thaumic power, and in turn, him.
It writhed, lashed out, and fought against him, and he couldn’t stop himself as he began coughing violently. Blood escaped his mouth as he pushed more and more against the wild force. At the moment, he stood at near even grounds with the sun and moon, barely managing to move an inch at a second.
A gasp carried through the crowd at the sight of the trembling ball of fire in the sky. Hammer Strike was fighting, and more importantly, he was starting to win. Even as they looked on with worried expressions, the hope and silent prayers of the citizens billowed in one unified wave. Gryphon, Unicorn, Pegasus, Earth Pony, and even Thestrals combined their wills with a single thought of encouragement and command.
‘You can do it.’
Hammer Strike yelled defiantly at the resistance the sun and moon gave him as he felt magic prod his thaumic field. It didn’t take much before it pushed its way into him, granting him the last push of energy he needed. At that moment, the sun and moon started to move proper, and soon after, exchanged places.
His field cut out suddenly as he completed his task, his breathing labored as he stared up at the night sky above him. Blood ran down his muzzle as he tried to stabilize his breath.
The cheer that arose shook the town, and the same cries carried on the wind from the four corners of Hammer Strike’s lands. Day had yielded at last, and all could be as it was meant to again.
Clover rushed forward and threw her hooves around her mate. He felt the warm trickle of tears on his neck, as well as a small trickle of thaumic energy prodding at his field, intent on feeding it. His field latched on eagerly, drinking until Clover had to forcibly cut the connection. She took a step back. “Let’s get you home.”
“Probably for the best,” Hammer Strike replied as he wiped at his mouth, clearing the blood. He stood tall as he gave a faint smile toward the cheering populace before turning and hobbling from the square.
“How are you even standing right now?” she whispered, keeping close to his side.
“I’m numb. The shock of everything is still there.”
“I didn’t think you’d be able to do it,” she admitted, still quietly. “Right up until you got that boost at the end, you seemed to be struggling.”
“It fought against me the whole time.” He took a breath. “As though with tooth and claw.”
It didn’t take long for the two of them to reach home, Clover opened the door for Hammer Strike to pass through. As soon as that door closed, he collapsed onto the wooden flooring, his breathing severely labored.
Almost instantly, the weight of years fell upon him as his coat became thin and muted. His mane turned almost pure white and withered. Scars that hadn’t been seen in years became visible beneath his fur. His eyes seemed to dull, despite their technological nature.
“Hammer Strike!” Clover cried, reaching for her cream.
“Clover, bring me,” he took a breath. “Lowest level basement. Quickly.”
She wrapped her hooves around them, and they vanished in a pop of magic.
Grif numbly opened his hand. The bits and shards of broken glass tinkled to the floor as he stared blankly at the screen. The pain was minimal as blood dripped from his now open talons. Already, his thaumic field began to repair the damage as bits of glass slid out of the numerous cuts to join the rest on the floor.
“That was … pardon my language, but damn,” Vital Spark exclaimed.
Rarity wept silently as she stared at the screen. The stallion she loved had just aged to the point where he was near death. The depth of his generosity touched her beyond words, even as her heart ached at the pain he had put himself through. Twilight laid a supporting wing on her friend’s back and held her close.
Pensword just stared. “WHY IS HE NOT AN ALICORN?” he yelled in shock and horror. “Hammer Strike is the literal patron guardian of our entire land!” His voice fluctuated and cracked with the surge of his emotions. “He’s literally a demigod now!”
“That was thaumic power, not magic,” Grif pointed out.
Pensword looked to Grif, slowly to Twilight, then to Vital. “You all are going to become…” He trailed off. A pang of regret showed briefly on his muzzle. Then he shook his head. “Equestria will never be the same in fifty to a hundred years.”
“Is … he going to be okay?” Derpy asked.
“Yes,” The Doctor said. Of everyone present, he seemed completely unfazed by what they’d seen.
“Doctor, do you know something you’re not telling us?” Vital asked. “There’s not something worse coming, is there?”
“Possibly?” The Doctor shrugged. “It’s not important right now.”
Vital Spark groaned. “Just how much punishment is he going to have to take before the universe says it’s done giving him crap to deal with?”
Grif responded for the first time since. “You don’t get it, do you?” He shook his head. “It’s not him the universe needs to pick on. Hell, probably less than half of this was given to him to deal with. The universe doesn’t have to target him. It just has to target somebody he can help.” He sighed. “As long as someone’s in trouble and he has the power to do something about it, he generally will.”
“Even if it could kill him, huh?” Vital sighed. “That does sound like him.”
“It’s what makes him such a great leader,” Pensword said. “And why Grif swore his fealty in the first place.”
“What I’m wondering is how he even managed to survive that long after the exertion, let alone actually control the sun on his own. He may be stronger than most Unicorns, but that shouldn’t be enough to command that kind of power,” Twilight said.
“I’d be more worried about how many times he can,” Grif stated. “I doubt the Unicorns are gonna stop at one time.”
“You mean he’s going to have to keep doing … that?” Rarity couldn’t even bring herself to say it.
“You’ve met the nobles in the present, Rarity. If their ancestors are anything like them, then I’d say it’s a pretty safe bet,” Vital agreed.
“But that simply doesn’t make any sense.”
“Rarity, it’s nobles who are snobbier and more proud and power hungry than even the worst of Canterlot. They’d rather keep bashing their horns against whatever problem they perceive than admit defeat. About the only thing that can force them to capitulate is if a sword is at their throats. Reality isn’t an easy concept for them to grasp.”
Rarity grit her teeth. “Then I hope Clover teaches them the proper humility when the time is right.”
“And Hammer Strike learns or creates something to help make it easier,” Pensword added.
Hammer Strike blinked as he came to. Above him sat the familiar arms of the medical cube’s operating table. He felt better again, but the memory of the incident weighed on his subconscious.
Clover hugged him for the third time that day. A part of him noted the uncharacteristic display of affection and logged it while the rest reciprocated the contact. “I was worried,” she said.
“I’m sorry,” Hammer Strike apologized as he returned the hug. “I couldn’t risk anyone.”
“You shouldn’t risk yourself either, idiot,” she said, not letting go.
“From what I could tell, it wasn’t going to kill me, but bring me right next to Death’s door.”
“Tell him to buck off next time.”
“I have, but he’s too clingy.”
Behind Clover, in the corner of the room, a familiar figure glared at him from under his hood.
“You aren’t winning next time either, Death.” Hammer Strike gave a small smirk.
“Maybe he won’t,” another familiar voice spoke. “But I have to wonder why you didn’t pull energy from our bonds,” Ainz commented as he entered.
“I haven’t been able to test what it would do to you all if I made a pull that severe. I didn’t want to risk it.”
“Nobility looks good in the history books, but honor won’t keep Unity together if you just off and die.”
“As stated, it won’t kill me, but I’ll need to use this cube immediately afterward to keep from dying.” Hammer Strike sighed.
“That was reckless,” Harmony chided as she materialized and glared at him.
“Best option I had,” Hammer Strike replied.
“Is there any way to block the Unicorns’ control over the celestial bodies?” Ainz asked.
“Yes, but that isn’t the problem.” Hammer Strike frowned. “They weren’t holding them in place. They were simply placing a lock on a stationary object.”
“If energy is what is required,” Ainz said, “there are options.”
“I won’t allow us to stoop to such methods.”
“I thought as much, but it’s my duty to present the thought, nonetheless.” Ainz thought. “Though perhaps I could break down the body of one of the dragon corpses. It would produce enough raw power possibly to allow you to move the celestials at least once.”
“I can add to that. Dilute it to two exchanges. Only work with the spares, nothing majorly useful to us.”
Ainz nodded. “I’ll get to work on it immediately.”
Hammer Strike nodded as he moved to stand up and gave a faint smile to Clover. “I’ll need you by my side more than ever in these next few days.”
“I figured,” she said. “I’ll look through my contracts, see if I can’t make a few exchanges for power with some extraplanar beings.”
“Don’t put too much risk into it. We should be able to manage until I can figure out the better alternative.”
“You go get some sleep,” Clover ordered. “Rejuvenation or not, you have to be exhausted after that.”
Hammer Strike winced. “I’ll … try.”
The sudden shift from day to night had left all three siblings in a state of agitation only aggravated by the arrival of a stormy-faced Clover. They were all adults, each having faced their own challenges and hardships over the years. As such, their mother had chosen to tell them the truth about the events that had transpired.
“He did what?” Yharon roared.
“He did what he thought was the only option,” Clover said.
Yharon began to swear sulfurously in the tongue of Dragons.
“Yharon!” Celestia balked.
“Celestia, I love you, but it’s either I vent by swearing or I fly out somewhere and find something to roast,” Yharon said. “And I’d rather stay here to make sure Father is all right.”
“Peace, Yharon. I’m angry, too, but it won’t help us,” Luna said.
“That’s the frustrating part, Luna. Nothing will. You know how Father is. He’d rather drop dead than risk anyone getting hurt fighting those … those….” His body trembled and pulsed with energy as sparks shot out his nostrils and a low growl rumbled in his throat. He closed his eyes and forced himself to breathe. “I want them to pay.”
“You know Father wouldn’t allow it,” Celestia said as she laid a supporting wing against her brother’s frame. “He cares about us too much.”
“Enough to risk burning up his life force?” he snapped. “What if he can’t come back next time? How many times do you think he can actually do this before he fails entirely? It’s suicidal!”
“It’s Hammer Strike.” Clover sighed. “Your father has a bad case of putting his life in danger.”
“So, what do we do about it?”
“Yharon, I don’t think there’s anything we can do,” Celestia said.
Yharon shook his head. “I refuse to believe that. If Father is going to put his life on the line every time this happens, then I’m going to find an answer to all this, so he doesn’t have to.”
“I wish you the best of luck in that.” Clover sighed. “We’re all trying to find answers right now.”
“Mother, may I have permission to visit the tomb? I’d like to consult with Master Gown.”
“Go ahead.” Clover sighed. “Ainz has already tried what he can, but for obvious reasons, we’re not going that route.”
Yharon nodded. “I suspected as much. But he and his compatriots may be able to help point us in the right direction.” He rose to his feet and stretched. “I’ll be back later,” he promised his sisters. “Keep an eye on Father for me?”
“We will, brother.”
Yharon left shortly after, leaving Clover alone with her two foster stepdaughters.
“So, who’s taking first watch?” Celestia asked.
The light hum of magic briefly surrounded Clover’s lab door before dying away. It sounded twice more as Star Swirl’s silvery-white magical aura surrounded the door and was swiftly broken. The heavy slam of his hoof almost rivaled his booming voice. “Clover, open this door! I must speak with you immediately!”
Clover sighed, ignited her horn, and the door opened.
Star Swirl didn’t waste time. He bowled in like a thundercloud, and his beard billowed to match, though the bells detracted from the intimidation tactic. “What in Faust’s name did he do? The whole city is in an uproar!”
“He moved the sun and moon,” Clover said tepidly. “Nearly killed him, too.”
“On his own?”
“Yes, on his own.” Clover sighed and braced for the inevitable.
Star Swirl’s face paled at first, then gradually flushed a rosy pink, transitioned to a deep red, and finally settled on a ruddy purple as his horn sparked and steam blew out his ears. “That idiot! After all this time and effort he’s put into uniting the tribes at last, after centuries of division, he acted alone? Why didn’t he ask for help? He has legions of Unicorns that would literally do anything for him! At the very least, he could have let us support him!”
“Because he wouldn’t ask them to burn themselves out for it.”
“And this is better?”
“To him, it is. I know you don’t value others to the same extent, but you should at least understand when someone else does.”
“There is a balance, Clover. Going too far on either end is bad. I understand his motivation, but I cannot condone the method, not when there is so much at stake.”
“Honestly, Star Swirl, what you condone has little matter in it,” Clover said. “I can’t rule out the reason you can’t condone it is because you haven’t figured out how to claim credit for it.”
“Clover!” Star Swirl balked. “I’m surprised at you.”
“Not as surprised as I was to find that you credited yourself for the amniomorphic spell,” Clover said, dropping a book. “As well as the spell ritual for moving the sun and moon.” She dropped another book. “As well as the six unnatrual uses of wolfsbane.” Yet another book. “You seem to have taken a habit of signing your name alone to things your partners worked on, if not invented solely. Imagine my surprise when I started finding this information in your own published texts, and that few, if any Unicorns had heard of names like Briar the Balding or Willow the Wispy. It seems everywhere I look, it’s Star Swirl the Bearded. Did you think I wouldn't find out?”
“There was nothing to find out. The majority of the research was mine, and they agreed it would be wider read under my name. You know how difficult it is to get the nobility to even consider having copies made.”
“Just like you told me about the windigos?” Clover deadpanned as she dropped a published version of the Hearth’s Warming Eve tale. “Funny how that went. As I remember, you had me whipped, and I spent three days peeling potatoes for touching that bestiary.”
“Because you didn’t have permission and you weren’t at the point in your training where that knowledge would be relevant.”
“Tell me, if I looked up my dissertation on the Wendigos, what would I find? Or how about my three papers on extra planar beings and the etiquette for interacting with them? Do I want to know what you did with my notes on the truth about the Alicorns?”
“You know full well that kind of knowledge would never be believed by the populace. You’d be laughed out of every consortium in the land.”
“They need to know the truth,” Clover growled.
“At the cost of enduring hostility toward your daughters?”
“You, of all people, do not get to bring my family into this!” Brilliant cerulean flames erupted from her mane as she glared at him. “My daughters are victims of the Alicorns as much as other Ponies. I’ve talked with them long and hard, and they agree that if Ponies aren't made aware of the issue, it may very well lead to them repeating their tribe’s mistakes.”
Star Swirl normally would easily be able to ward off the heat of Clover’s anger, but as he threw up his shield, he found something else feeding the flames eating through his wards like candy.
“You have stolen credit from other Unicorns, from me. You hide vital knowledge from Equis. And worst of all, you admonish me for my husband risking his life to save Ponies from the self-righteous idiots weilding a weapon you helped them learn to use. Do not treat me for some conjurer of cheap tricks, Star Swirl the Bearded. I have learned much since leaving you.” In a flash, orbs of magic surrounded her. They spun rapidly, radiating the aspects of all the major elements. “I have mastered the elements, read the stars, and made deals with beings far stronger than the common Pony comprehends. I have been at the front of great evil and great good since coming here, and I will not be talked down to like a foal within my own home!” Above her head, a magical circle of white energy formed, and from its center, with a groan, a large helm mounted with a crown of pulsing white energy that flickered with golden streaks emerged. The metal was polished platinum that reflected the projected light and seemed to absorb it into the golden accents that passed along its armor plating. The entity was clearly mechanical in nature. It took Star Swirl a moment to attach the name of the summon to its form from his texts.
Alexander stared down at him in silent judgement.
Star Swirl gaped at the head in utter disbelief. For once, the verbose and overbearing wizard had been rendered speechless.
All at once, the display ended. The elemental orbs vanished. The flames on Clover’s coat and mane died. And even Alexander slowly sunk into his summoning circle and faded. “If this is the path you’ve chosen, then there is nothing more of value you can teach me. I think my career as your student would only hinder me if I were to pursue it further.” Clover reached into her cloak and produced a small silver amulet with Star Swirl’s cutie mark emblazoned on it. Then she tore it from her neck and tossed it to him.
The brim of Star Swirl’s hat hung low over his face as he grit his teeth and stared at the emblem. “You ungrateful little—”
The amulet hovered in the air, and as Clover released her magical grip on it, cerulean blue flames devoured the metal before his eyes. There was no melting of metal, no slag. When the flames finished their work, he felt nothing where they had been. Even the magic connected to the amulet was gone.
“Now, unless you have some way I can keep my husband from killing himself trying to fix your mistakes, you can go,” Clover stated coldly. “And if you would kindly retract your spying enchantments from my son, I'd hate to have to forcibly break them.”
Star Swirl growled, but did as he was bidden as his horn flashed. “There. It’s done.” He turned smartly toward the door. “Farewell, Clover. You have your wish. I hope you don’t regret it.”
Unceremoniously, Clover’s horn lit, and Star Swirl found himself teleported outside as the door shut and locked.
“Well, it seems your audience with Lady Clover is done.” Lord appeared in front of the Unicorn instantly and with no magical effect that Star Swirl could notice. “My lord has bid me see you out.”
“I can see myself out, thank you very much,” Star Swirl huffed. “I’m not an invalid.”
“Yes, but we both know you’re also not going to head out on your own. You’re going to hunt my lord down and attempt to give him a piece of your mind. Then he’ll summon me to see you out, anyway. This cuts out the middlepony.”
Star Swirl scoffed, but didn’t protest. “Very well. Let’s just get this over with. I’ve my own business to attend to.”
“And you can send a formal request at the gate, like every other visitor,” Lord said. And with a flash, Star Swirl was overtaken by bright sunlight as he found himself standing in the center of a large flower field on the wrong side of the mountains.
Hammer Strike groaned to himself as he left his bed. Based off the readings of his augments, he had roughly four hours until he had to set the sun and raise the moon. It had been two days since he’d first performed the act, and it wasn’t getting easier quickly.
He sighed to himself as he stretched, attempting to alleviate the tension in his limbs before moving over to his desk. Before he could reach it, however, a familiar groaning phased into his hearing, becoming louder and louder until he felt a small quake and a resounding crash near his home.
“Why now, of all times?” Hammer Strike sighed, moving over to the window. Behind his house, he could see the TARDIS in a familiar situation, doors open, smoke coming out, and The Doctor standing outside pacing. “Really..?” he muttered before moving toward his door and calling his tools to his side.
The Doctor coughed as he stumbled out of the TARDIS and into a familiar green yard. Smoke and fumes billowed out of the police box doors as he breathed and rubbed his eyes to clear them, only to gape at the sight of the familiar cottage walls. The structure had been expanded since his last visit, but he would never forget the Earth Pony that had repaired his machine. Nor would he forget the promise he’d made. His maneless head was accentuated by the dark leather jacket that bedecked his frame, and he practically danced with worry as he began to pace. “No. No, no, no, no!” he cried with ever increasing volume. “Why here, why now, of all the places and all the times you could’ve picked? You know I made a promise.” He pointed an accusatory hoof in the TARDIS’ direction. “We’re not supposed to be here!”
“Yet here you are,” Hammer Strike called out as he approached the Doctor. Despite the restraint shown, it was clear he wasn’t in a good mood.
The Doctor jumped back from the stallion as he set his toolbox down. “Now, Hammer Strike, I swear this wasn’t my idea. I took care of her. Honestly, I did.” He raised a hoof. “Swear to Faust, or … whatever authority you equines worship on this planet.”
“I worship none of them, so you’re out of luck there.” Hammer Strike sighed. “What happened?” he questioned as he rubbed his forehead.
“Truthfully? I … don’t really know. It seems I’ve only just regenerated. On the plus side, good teeth.” He clacked his jaw for emphasis. “On the down side, memory’s sort of scrambled.” He coughed and a waft of his regeneration energy flowed briefly from his mouth. “Wooh! Spicy.”
“Doctor, you’re hopeless sometimes,” Hammer Strike replied flatly as he moved to enter the TARDIS.
“Oi! I’m not that bad … most of the time.”
“Hence why I said sometimes.” He sighed as he stepped into the ship. After a brief scan over, he noted that the point of regeneration looked to have happened near the auto repair circuit he had previously patched. And it was once again not in the best of shapes. Several other sections were damaged along with it from the regeneration process. “Why now, of all times? Out of any point in time you could have landed here, why now?”
“Don’t ask me. Ask her.” He motioned to the ship. “I’m a man—err stallion of my word. I wouldn’t have come here.”
“Of course you wouldn’t have.” Hammer Strike caught himself as he nearly growled out the sentence. “By the Divine, I’m still recovering, and here you come by having regenerated right next to the repair circuit.”
“It’s not like I planned it that way. At least … I don’t think I did.”
Hammer Strike sighed. “Doctor, do me a favor. Just... go around town, talk with Clover, do something other than be here right now.”
“Uh … right. Yeah. I’ll just be going now.” He chuckled nervously and backed away briefly before holding his breath and darting inside. He returned bearing a curiously shaped stick between his teeth, which he quickly stowed in his jacket pocket. “Almost forgot my sonic.” He chuckled nervously, then galloped for all he was worth. The sooner he could get away from the angry Hammer Strike, the better.
As soon as The Doctor was out of earshot, Hammer Strike sighed once more. “TARDIS, why? Now was potentially the worst time to bring The Doctor here. I’ve been having to deal with the sun and moon the last few days, and it’s really wearing me down.”
‘It was the only point I could zero in on after what happened with the Daleks on Gallifrey.’
Hammer Strike sighed heavily as he pulled out several tools and began checking over the repair circuit. “I’m barely holding on at this point. I know I’ll live, but this constant feeling of exhaustion and pain is wearing down on my body. The Alicorns at least gave me a few days between tests, but this? It’s within every twelve hours.”
‘Why haven’t you asked the girls to do it? They’re not taking another break, are they?’
“I’ve been wondering when that will take place, but I honestly don’t know if they’re at the stage they can handle it yet.” Hammer Strike sighed. “If I bring it up, after the way things have been, it’s like me asking if they’re willing to take my place of misery. They’d understand and potentially accept the responsibility, but that kind of stress isn’t good.”
‘They’re your girls. Like father like daughters.’ She laughed, and her console booped as she did so. ‘Give it time.’
“Always do.” Hammer Strike sighed. “Has he been keeping to his word this time, or was that a stretch of the truth?”
‘A little of both. He didn’t mean to regenerate, so the blame can’t be entirely placed on him.’
“Yeah, yeah…” Hammer Strike frowned as he got to work. It took a few hours, but eventually he got things to a manageable state where the Tardis was able to pick up on the repairs. The Doctor had kept away from the Tardis in the entire time he was working, and even after he had finished. “I should probably go look for him.” Hammer Strike hummed as he patted the side of the TARDIS. “I’ll bring him over. Until next time.”
‘Say hello to your granddaughter for me. That girl has a bright future ahead of her. Oh, and mind that temper while you’re visiting.’
“You know what, I’m not going to ask,” Hammer Strike replied as he moved toward his house in search of The Doctor. Thankfully, he didn’t have to travel far, as he found the stallion within his home. The Doctor had taken it upon himself to read through an assortment of books available, doing anything to keep to himself and out of Hammer Strike’s mane.
“Give her a little bit to finish up and she’ll be done,” Hammer Strike commented.
“So, um … I’m gonna guess—”
“Doctor, to be completely honest, if it weren’t for how needed you are, I would have punched through one of your regenerations,” Hammer Strike replied flatly.
“Oh. Uh. Well, that’s not very nice.” He rubbed the back of his head. “But I guess it’s fair. So, I guess I’ll just get out of your hair and let you get on with it, yeah?”
“No, you’re going to sit there and wait at least half an hour for her to wrap up the repairs. Understood?”
The Doctor winced. “Right….”
Hammer Strike sighed. “Look, I’m sorry, Doctor, but she landed in one of the worst points in time around this period for you to land. I’m not in the best of shapes right now.”
“Any way I can help?”
“Unless you can move the sun and moon for me, no.” Hammer Strike sighed.
“Well, I don’t know about moving a star, but the TARDIS should be able to move the moon or Equis, provided she has enough pilots.”
“You’re not going to stress her with this right after her repairs,” Hammer Strike replied flatly. “You already screwed up twice. I won’t let you a third time.”
“I’ll … take that as a no, then.”
“Correct.” Hammer Strike frowned. “I suppose there is one thing you can do.”
“And that is?”
“Come with me.” Hammer Strike gestured as he led The Doctor down to the lowest level basement. “This is the medical cube I’ve been using to replenish my life after moving the sun and moon. As you can assume, it’s a hassle to deal with right after doing so, so you can get it going for me?”
“Right now?”
“Five minutes until I need to do so, but I figured you’d like additional time to study the machine.” He opened the cube and allowed The Doctor inside.
“Well, hello there. Didn’t expect to find this kind of tech here. Where’d you get it?” he asked curiously as he looked it over and then began to scan it with his sonic screwdriver.
“The Alicorns, before they died off. Now, try not to break it, or I will literally die before it’s my time.”
“Not gonna happen,” the Doctor said calmly. “It’s nice and all, but it’s still not Timelord tech.” He read the screwdriver’s readout and smiled. “There we go. That should do the trick.” He approached a console and looked over the buttons.
“And what, exactly, did you do?”
“Just gave the systems a quick scan is all. Sonic map. Charts out the schematics of the machine and helps me figure out its individual functions. Really useful, sonics.” He smiled as he flipped the screwdriver in the air and let it fall directly into his jacket pocket.
“Fair enough.” He sighed. “You can’t blame me for being worried about you breaking something important.”
“If there were a danger of that, the TARDIS wouldn’t have let me land here in the first place, whether she couldn’t repair herself or not.”
“Considering it was just a close random point, I wouldn’t be so sure of that,” Hammer Strike muttered as one of his augments read the time to him. “Start preparing it,” he called out as thaumic energy surrounded his being.
The machine hummed to life as the Doctor jabbed his hooves over each of the buttons. “Fantastic!” he breathed as he watched the various arms and other segments hum to life and gradually disengage from sleep mode.
A few minutes passed and the energy around Hammer Strike faded out. He was breathing heavily as he slowly made his way to the table. “Once gray starts showing up in my mane, activate it…”
“Right. You’re in good hands—err hooves, Hammer Strike. I promise.”
“Gods, I hope so,” he muttered as he placed himself on the table, allowing the straps to take hold of his body.
Following standard procedure, Hammer Strike was sedated, and the process took over automatically. When Hammer Strike came to, he was surprised to find The Doctor still in the room, overlooking things on the console. His augments read out that it had been nearly three hours since he was put under.
“You’re still around?” Hammer Strike asked. “I … honestly had anticipated you leaving, once you knew it was fine.”
The Doctor turned and stared with a level expression that bore the same intensity as Hammer Strike’s raised brow. “Just how often have you been using this machine, Hammer Strike?”
“I’ve had to use it every twelve hours, right after dealing with the sun and moon.” Hammer Strike sighed. “I know it’s not supposed to be used quite like this, but it’s all I’ve got.”
“All you’ve got is dying,” he said seriously. “This machine was never designed to perform that kind of procedure that often. It’s a miracle this thing hasn’t given up the ghost already! It needs time to restore its energy, just like the TARDIS does, only this one does it slower using ambient energy in the surrounding environment.”
“It’s all I’ve got at the moment. As for when two individuals will be capable, I don’t know, but I can’t spring it on them, or it might result in a worse situation.”
“If nothing is done, you’re going to die before you’re supposed to, Hammer Strike. Three more uses. Four, if you’re lucky, before this machine’s power dies and you go with it.”
“We’ll figure it out.” Hammer Strike sighed. “Something, at the very least.”
“You’d better. Till then, I’m sticking around here. Someone has to try to keep this thing from breaking down.”
“So long as you don’t tamper with it too much, it should regulate itself fine. It hasn’t hit the stage of use, even in it’s rapid succession of current use, where it is unable to continue its sequence as per standard.”
“All right. If you want me to go, I’ll go. But someone still needs to plant that idea in your girls’ heads, and it needs to happen soon.”
“From what Clover’s been telling me, they’ve been looking into … something. They won’t tell her, but they’ve been active since I started this.”
“Good. That means they just need the final push to fit the pieces together. I’ll leave that to your other Missus to take care of.”
“Hopefully sooner, rather than later.” Hammer Strike sighed. “Until next time, Doctor, and do try to keep the TARDIS in one piece.”
“You know me, Hammer Strike. I try not to make promises I might not be able to keep.”
“Doctor, you land here one more time because she’s hurting, and you’ll be the one in pain. Understood?” Hammer Strike’s eyes brightened as he gave the Doctor a flat stare.
“... Right. I’ll just be going now.”
Everyone turned to stare at The Doctor, who in turn stared at the screen. “Well, I don’t remember that.”
“Well, it was a pretty long time ago,” Vital said. “And you had only just regenerated.”
“So, I hypothesize,” Grif noted, “that this would be just before Luna and Celestia took the sun and moon.”
“I’d say that’s a pretty safe bet,” Vital agreed.
“Are we going to see them actually control them for the first time, then?” Twilight asked.
“It’s really dependent on the lady.” Grif shrugged. “I mean, you aren’t exactly on the best terms with her right now.”
Twilight frowned. “You don’t have to rub it in….”
“No. If I was rubbing it in, I'd mention the TARDIS is a recognised grandmaster chess player, whereas you topped out as just a master,” Grif noted. “She’s won up to forty seven games simultaneously.”
“Uh, Grif, you just did,” Vital deadpanned.
“No one callously accuses me of rubbing it in,” Grif noted.
“So, you gave her an example of what your rubbing in would feel like, in order to prove you weren’t rubbing it in, which technically was and yet wasn’t rubbing it in?”
“Precisely.”
“Ladies and gentlefolk, this is why Grif is the head of his clan. I give you the thinker.”
“AKA the warrior. AKA the silvertongue. AKA the cunning, and so on,” Pensword said.
“His titles are many and vast. None can comprehend his greatness!” Vital sassed and smiled goodnaturedly at his friends.
“On a separate note, I also would like to see them gain their cutie Marks, if the Tardis would be kind to us,” Pensword noted.
“Friendly ribbing and requests aside,” Rarity said, “perhaps it would be best to adjourn for now and partake of some refreshment. We’ve been sitting here watching that monitor for quite a while. A nice meal would do us all some good.”
“Muffins?” Derpy asked.
“Derpy, we love your baking. Every muffin you make has been a true delight, but do you mind if we try making something different this time?” Vital asked. “I’ve got a hankering for some breakfast burritos.”
“Breakfast burritos? What are those?”
Vital Spark grinned. “Give Grif and me a half hour and we’ll show you, assuming the TARDIS has the ingredients we need. Does she, Doctor?”
“Is that honestly a question?” The Doctor asked.
“I haven’t checked what she has ready made and what needs to be made from scratch, Doctor. So, yes, that’s a question.”
“That was a yes, Vital.” Grif sighed. “Screw it. I’m gonna make myself a skillet. You can figure this out.” Without another word, Grif headed for the kitchen.
“Welp, guess I’m on my own, then.” Vital shrugged. “Make that an hour, then. I cook slowly.” He saluted his friends. “Later. I’ll make sure to divide for vegetarian and non.”
Pensword looked at his friends before getting up. “I think I’ll go make some Denver Omelettes.” He paused. “You know, I haven’t thought of those in ages.” He chuckled. “Any other Ponies who are interested can join me.” He paused at the doorway and patted the wall with a wing. “Thank you for sharing that memory with us. I am honored you showed us this moment.”
“So, let me get this straight. You found a spell that could potentially work, at the prompting of a dream that led you to Binding?” Yharon asked.
Celestia nodded. “It’s a variation of the contract magic Binding uses to keep order in Unity.”
“And you haven’t wondered what force might be trying to direct you toward that?”
“I could care less if it was the devil Asmodeus himself directing us,” Luna said. “If it means we may save our father, then I’d embrace it willingly.”
“You’re aware that if we go through with this, if I help you, we’re going to need to do this behind Father and Mother’s back.”
“On that, we are agreed.” Celestia nodded. “The nature of this bond could have a profound impact.”
“You’ll need totems to help forge the pact,” Yharon noted. “The closer to a proper embodiment, the better.”
“We shall use our souls,” Luna said.
Yharon flared his wings, and a silencing spell quickly surrounded them. Then came the roar. “You’re going to what?”
“The soul is the base of all power, the channel of all beings’ magic past, present, and future. Celestia and I have agreed if that is not enough power to accomplish the task, nothing else will suffice. We shall mimic Father in this venture and go in ‘all or nothing,’ as they say.”
“You realize what you’re saying, right? If this fails, it’s over. We’ll never see you again in this life or the next. Are you two really fully committed to this? I can’t condone it otherwise.”
“Yharon, you know Father raised us. Do you really think we would be saying this if we didn’t mean it in the first place?” Celestia pressed.
Yharon breathed out a cloud of smoke mingled with sparks. “I still don’t like it.” He sighed heavily. “But I can’t stop you either. We all said we’d do whatever we could to help Father.”
“Now, then, we only have so long to make the preparations,” Luna said. “I don’t think we can trust Binding or Ainz to keep this quiet, so we’ll have to do this ourselves.”
“Then I guess it’s a good thing I’ve been poring over all their tomes.” He smiled weakly. “And that I have a photographic memory.”
“Shall we split up, then? Each take a third of the list of requirements and meet back here?”
“I’ll see about getting the reagents. Mother already knows I’m looking into experimenting on potential spells. She shouldn’t get too suspicious, provided I ask her permission to enter her stores first.”
“Good. Luna and I will look into designing our magical circles. This is a pact that’s likely never been attempted before in the history of Equis.” She turned to her sister. “Luna, is there anything else you can think of that we might require?”
“A drink,” Luna said. She teleported a tankard to her and drained it.
“Save some for the rest of us, after we finish preparations.”
“And for the celebration after,” Yharon added forcefully.
Celestia nodded. “Of course.”
It was a dark and stormy night. Or at least, that’s what the Unicorns who would record this legend would have you believe. No, the night was neither brooding, fearsome, menacing, nor foreboding. Hammer Strike laid in recovery, and Clover laid by his side as the two slept together and held each other close. The sky was crystal clear, and the stars shone brightly on the three siblings as they gathered in the far meadow beyond the city’s walls.
“We’re going to have to time this just right,” Yharon noted. “Otherwise, Father will interfere with the spells. Luna will have to start first, since you agreed she’ll take the moon as the younger sibling. When she pulls the moon below the horizon, the sun should follow, though it will also drain on her magic, which means you’ll have to act quickly. At that point, you will engage your half of the binding, Celestia.” He produced two stones, one in each of his clawed hands. The first shone with a silvery-white light, and was perfectly smooth. The second was jagged and dull, but revealed elements of gold, orange, red, and brown that flickered in the lesser light generated by the first. “These should work well enough for totems to help forge the initial connection, assuming you’ve worked enough symbolism into your circles.” He passed each stone to the respective sister, then pulled them both toward him with his wings in a rough embrace. “You two had better pull this off,” he said. “Or so help me….”
“We will be fine, brother,” Luna promised as she broke the hug and pulled back. She smiled reassuringly as she lit her horn. Blue light rose from the ground around her as she forged the magic circle. A scrawling artistic calligraphy bound her within, followed by the drawing of a crescent moon in its center at an angle. Stars formed the outlines of constellations to accentuate the outer circle. Then she raised the moon stone, and the circle’s light shifted from dark blue to silver. “Spirits and forces above, lend me your ears to make this sacred contract heard.”
Luna closed her eyes and concentrated. Unseen by any who would be watching, her will reached out across the sky, like a tether, to wrap around the moon. At first, it touched the surface gingerly, but after a moment, it dove into the sphere. As yharon and Celestia watched, Luna’s body began to alter. Scars and markings from battles long past vanished as her dark blue fur smoothed out. Her bearing drew back, becoming taller, more regal. Suddenly, Luna felt her will penetrate through the moon and splinter outwards infinitely, as it was pulled toward every star in the night sky. She couldn’t stop it as she felt each one contact her rapidly. And as Celestia and Yharon watched, her blue mane grew out into a long ethereal mass billowing in an unseen astral wind. It deepened to almost black as pinpricks of silver appeared one after the other.
For a moment, it seemed as though her consciousness would be lost, but then, all at once, Luna tilted her head forward. Her horn blazed as her eyes opened to reveal pure silver light. In the night sky, the moon moved along its course, sinking low over the horizon. As it vanished, there was a flash on Luna’s flanks. A black splotch covered nearly her entire back end. And on it appeared a single silver crescent moon.
Luna broke the connection. And as the light in her horn and eyes died away, the now lifeless stone fell to the ground and crumbled to dust. She didn’t fall to the ground, however. Luna didn’t look tired or worn, as Yharon had anticipated. Rather, she looked renewed and healthier than either of her siblings had ever seen before. Her mane still billowed in the same astral wind with the night sky imprinted upon it, even as the circle beneath her slowly faded.
The dim perpetual gloom of twilight hung over the sky as the stars shone brightly, almost beckoning. A mixture of silver and muted orange and purple blended across the horizon.
Yharon nodded grimly and motioned with a claw. “The dawn beckons.”
Celestia nodded and strode next to her sister. She breathed deeply, then nodded again as she brought her own magic to bear. The golden light of her heritage rose slowly up her horn, and a pair of tears rolled down her cheeks as painful memories still fresh in her mind rose with the power. Yet as the water trickled, her eyes hardened with resolve. She tossed her mane and flicked her horn forcefully as golden light carved a swath through the field around her. A simple circle glowed, broken into four quarters. A great red dragon wrapped its form around the edge, its scales each bedecked with chain upon chain of runes. Its wings spread wide, and a sword was clutched between its talons. Celestia slowly raised the stone higher in the air. The more it rose, the more magic she pumped into it. The circle flared, then blazed as the sunstone flashed. Red and gold streamed from the edge of the circle and the dragon’s maw to dance around Celestia’s mane and tail as they lengthened. Her coat became resplendent as the power coursed through her.
For an instant, she felt a terrible cold strike her. Her heart trembled, and the light of her circle flickered. Frost caked the flowers around her, followed by thick ice. The nobles of the fractured Unicorn court had been too late to stop the first attempt, but they had rallied to attack Celestia.
“You wish to break me, break my spirit?” She hissed as the grief that had worn into her features contorted into fury. “I’ll not lose another loved one to petty politics!” The frost that had struck so fiercely began to steam as the initial beauty of her mane contorted into a flaring orange mass that grew stronger and stronger in its intensity. Her teeth snapped as she brought her rage to bear. “You woke the beast. Now face the breath of the dragon.” Her horn flared, and her voice rang with authority as she spoke. The circle flashed all the brighter. “Anál nathrach, orth' bháis's bethad, do chél dénmha.” Thrice more she spoke those words, each with rising force and strength.
What had been but a flicker erupted into searing fire as the circle blazed with white light. The frost vaporized as Celestia cried aloud. Flame soon joined the sigil’s design as the wyrm unleashed its withering breath. Tears rolled down her cheeks, and light consumed her eyes while mana leaked behind to join her mane as all the colors of the rainbow flickered and streaked over the blazing white canvas of incandescence that her mane had become. Like her father before her, fire now burned without and within. Yellow and gold blazed from both flanks as the sunstone melted and divided, then flowed to her skin. The scent of burning hair and searing flesh filled the air as Celestia’s horn grew longer. Raw power flowed from her horn, and the very stars seemed to flinch back as the sun practically jerked above the horizon to bathe the land in its glow.
When the first rays of dawn touched Celestia, the corona of light and heat she generated shattered to reveal a flowing rainbow that waved in the air behind her. Her tail billowed above scorched earth. There was no sign of the grass, nor of the wildflowers that had been frozen. Everything within and surrounding the circle by a foot had been vaporized. Finally, the circle broke. The dragon rose from the ground and nosed her gently, then ascended and disintegrated in a final burst of magic that cast dew over the clearing and birthed a rainbow above them. The sparkles born from that dew seemed to merge in her mane, adding a crystalline twinkle not unlike the stars that now shone in Luna’s.
Celestia looked on the orb and smiled as her legs buckled. Unlike what had happened in the union forged by her sister, the magic that Celestia had invoked insured the forging of the bond by force. While she now felt the warmth of the sun blazing within her, rather than the instant renewal, there was a sense of grudging respect and mutual exhaustion. It took her almost a whole minute before she noticed her siblings’ wings wrapping her, and half a minute longer to make out the words they spoke.
“Are you well, sister?” Luna asked.
Celestia looked back on her flanks to the sign of the radiant sun that now sat there with its blazing arms. She smiled weakly. “To tell you the truth, I feel like I could sleep for a year.” She chuckled. “But I did it. We did it.” She nuzzled Luna, then Yharon. “Father is safe. He’ll never have to risk his life again.” Tears of gratitude rolled down her cheeks. “We won’t lose him.”
“What was that spell, Celestia?” Yharon asked gently. “That language, the power. It’s like nothing I’ve ever seen before.”
“I would be surprised if you had, little brother.” She sighed. “It is an ancient spell, one not of this world, and not to be invoked lightly. I learned it … from a dear friend.” She leaned against his feathers and sighed sleepily. “I really am so very tired.”
“Come, sister. Let's get you to bed,” Luna said gently.
The siblings brought their sister to her hooves, and together, they trundled slowly home.
“That's Arthurian imagery,” Grif said, a bit shocked as he traced on a close-up of Celestia's magic circle with his finger. “Thats the red dragon of Uther, and the sword. That's the sword, the sword to end all swords.”
“Where’s the scabbard?” Pensword asked before pausing, “You don’t think…” He trailed off. “Grif, I think we have a clue where she was for forty years! Because that was Gaelic. I love language, and I wouldn’t forget something like that.”
“You realize what this means?” Grif asked. “Arthur, Camelot, Excalibur. It was all real!”
“You’re right. I should be geeking about Luna and her connection, but … this is King Arthur. The legends of what could have been a utopia.” He shivered, “I—we should broach this carefully, if we do, though. Notice her eyes. It wasn’t just the spell that hurt her. Her heart’s been broken.”
“What are you suggesting?” Grif asked warily.
“Can somepony please explain what’s going on here?” Twilight asked.
“In human, well I guess I could say history now, as it’s not really mythology anymore, there exists a tale of a king, a king unlike any other to ever live. He, for a short time, united the nation Britain under his banner and ruled what could be considered the perfect kingdom. Laws that were fair to all, incorruptible nobility, and an order of peacekeepers known as the Knights of the Round Table.”
Twilight cocked her head in confusion. “Why did they name themselves after a table?”
“Royal decorum dictates a king must always sit at the head of a table. Arthur wanted him and his knights to sit as equals when they sat together. Thus, he chose a table that had no head. No man was greater than his fellows. Well, almost no man.”
“Save one, he who bore the right to take the seat Perilous. In some lore, it’s said that the knight Lancelot laid claim to that chair. In others, it remained unoccupied. For any who claimed it and were unworthy would face death,” Vital continued.
“Not Lancelot.” Grif shook his head. “In the end, it would be his son Galahad who claimed the honor.”
“That is if we take the French legends with the English,” Pensword noted. “Lancelot came from France.” He paused. “This is very confusing with the muddling. And as the stories came down the ages, folks would add their own characters and interpretations. Grif, how many knights did you tell me King Arthur had? Over a hundred or something?”
“Over a hundred, yes.” Grif nodded.
“That must’ve been one big table,” Twilight noted.
“It also happened to be a product of magic. And if Grif is to be believed, which he is, being one of our biggest Arthurian enthusiasts, it was also an artifact of incredible magical power that was linked to the seat perilous in the first place,” Vital added.
“Is there a way to study that magic, then?” Twilight asked.
The room rang with the resounding, “No!”
“Twilight, the cost for that spell can literally mean the destruction of its caster. It’s not meant to be invoked lightly, if at all. It calls on primordial forces capable not only of generating magic, but also destroying it,” Vital Spark said. “Believe me. It’s better to be left forgotten.”
“It could very well hold divine attributes, if other legends are to be believed,” Pensword added. “And surely you know we don’t mess with the divine.”
“Not to mention the fae,” Grif added with a shiver.
“Fae?” Twilight cocked her head in confusion.
“You use magic, Twilight. They are magic, the literal descendants of two gods, or fallen divine servants, depending on the interpretation of their origins you go with. If you don’t want to have a bad time or worse, never, ever get on the wrong side of a fae. And never, ever give them your true name,” Vital warned.
“How come we’ve never heard of them before?” Twilight asked.
“You have. The knowledge was just lost to most Ponies, thanks in large part to Discord,” Vital said. “I’ve met a few of the nicer ones since coming here, but the majority of fae that live in Equestria are likely in hiding, and I can’t guarantee which ones are kind and which aren’t. In short, you shouldn’t go looking for them.”
“Can I at least ask about them?”
Vital shrugged. “Sure, if you want. You can check with Clover. She might have the knowledge you’re looking for. But I wouldn’t go asking anyone else.”
“Especially fae themselves,” Grif noted.
“Indeed. So, getting back on topic, we have the sisters now in control of the sun and the moon. I hope Hammer Strike isn’t too mad at them for too long,” Pensword said.
“He knew they were going to do it, Pensword. I doubt he’ll be that upset,” Vital said.
“If anything, he was banking on this.” Grif chuckled.
“Still, can I talk to you one on one, Grif? About my thoughts from earlier, I mean.”
“Of course.” Grif nodded. “Let’s go. We can work on dinner while we talk.”
Vital’s mouth watered. “Grif, you just said the magic words.”
“Thank you, Grif.”
And together, the two traversed the corridor to the kitchen.
Pensword closed the door. “TARDIS, Ma’am, could you make sure Grif and I are not disturbed for the moment?” The oven buzzed, and Pensword felt it was safe. “Grif, you saw how Celestia acted. She is heartbroken. And how her eyes lingered on the Dragon… I feel we may have one of the legends living with us.”
“I kinda figured,” Grif said as he began to pull ingredients from the different areas and retrieved some dough he’d placed in the fridge a few hours ago.
“I wanted to make sure you saw what I saw.” He frowned. “The question I have,” he said as he pulled pots and pans from cupboards, “is whether he’s still on Earth or hidden here on Equis?”
“If that's when the veil made travel impossible, then he couldn’t have left,” Grif noted as he coated his hands in flour and began working a ball of dough.
“Unless she brought him with her,” Pensword retorted. “Still, we need to be careful. Between the two of us, we shouldn’t broach the subject unless she does, okay?”
“I figured as much. Still, that means Arthur’s end was when magic failed. I wonder why that time?”
“I don’t know. My first guess would be due to the fact that a lot of the artifacts of Canterlot were magic-based. Maybe the death of Arthur killed magic?” Pensword proposed as he filled a large pot with water and pulled out some pasta to cook.
“Still, that means Celestia has a second name.” Grif sighed. “And that's going to take some dancing around to ignore.”
“Agreed, but which is it? An unnamed wife to one of the knights?”
“You’re smarter than that, Pensword.” Grif sighed again as he spun the dough.
Pensword nodded grimly. “So, you’re thinking the same thing.”
“Arthur was involved with only two women. And of them, he only loved one. I’d rather believe Celestia is the one than the other.”
“Should I say the name in this room?” Pensword asked. “It sounds like you and I are on the same page. We just need to be careful not to spill the beans.”
“The walls have ears,” Grif noted. “Let's leave it there.”
“I thought as well, but wow.” He looked to Grif. “Thank you for confirming that I’m not jumping into the deep end again.”
“We hit the deep end years ago, Pensword.” Grif chuckled. “Lets just hope this pool we’re in hits a bottom before we drown.”
“Agreed. Now, … where is the alfredo sauce?”
“Check the back of the fridge.”
“Thank you.”
Hammer Strike groaned softly as his augments alerted him to the time. He shifted in his bed, sitting upright as he mentally prepared himself for the soon-to-come day. He made sure to keep his movement and noise to a minimum as he shifted off the bed, leaving Clover to rest a little longer.
Sighing gently, he looked around his room, noting a difference in light levels before he even raised the sun. He frowned before making his way toward the window. One look outside revealed that the sun was already up.
He couldn’t help but smile, knowing what had occurred already. “Behind our backs, huh?” he commented softly.
“What happened behind our backs?” Clover asked through a yawn as she rose to join him.
“It appears Celestia and Luna figured out the alternative method,” Hammer Strike commented as he moved the blinds out of the way, letting light spill into the room.
“Well.” Clover smiled as she approached. “Is that the solution you were hoping for?”
“Very much so.” Hammer Strike sighed. “The medical cube couldn’t handle much more.”
“How long can they handle it?”
“Let me let you in on a little spoiler for the future.” Hammer Strike leaned closely. “They’re still raising it from when I come from.”
“So, then, this is a permanent solution?”
Hammer Strike nodded simply as he looked out the window once more. “Well, I get the feeling they’re potentially downstairs waiting for us. Shall we?”
“How do you want to do this? Act hurt? Disappointed? Angry?”
“I’ll go with pleasantly surprised, and determine more after I learn the risks they faced for it.”
“Okay.” Clover nodded as they headed for the stairs.
Celestia lay atop Yharon’s body, cuddled between his wings. Her breathing was soft and steady as she slept. Her new cutie mark stood prominently against her flanks as the daylight streamed through the windows.There were still some signs of scarring, but it appeared what flesh had been damaged by the branding was slowly regenerating. Yharon flicked a finger and brought it gently to his lips as the two parents entered the living room. Meanwhile, Luna lay next to the Dragon and nursed a massive tankard of cider.
“You three appear to have had a long night,” Hammer Strike commented as he took in the trio.
“Relatively speaking,” Yharon agreed softly.
“I feel perfectly fine,” Luna said.
“I’ll assume, since the two of you currently bear new marks, appearances, and increased power levels, that instead of following standard procedure, you connected yourselves to the sun and moon.”
“It seemed the only means to ensure you didn’t kill yourself,” Yharon said.
“It also seemed like the safest way to keep this from happening again. It would take an immensely powerful being to move them without our consent now. Or to stop them from moving,” Luna added.
“What form was the connection?” Hammer Strike asked with a raised brow.
Luna looked to Yharon, then sighed. “We tied the sun and moon intrinsically into our beings. In short, we used our souls.”
Hammer Strike frowned as he thought it over. After a few minutes, he sighed. “While I’m not thrilled at the risk you three took, I’m certainly not upset.”
“Good.” Yharon chuckled. “We were just doing what you taught us, anyway.”
“When in doubt, double down.” Luna chuckled before taking another drink.
Hammer Strike smiled gently as he looked over the three before turning his attention toward the door. “If this ensures our grasp on things, I think it’s time I do something I don’t normally do.”
“And that is?” Yharon asked.
“I’m going to start preparations.” His brow furrowed. “We’re done playing defensive. Unity is going to war.”
“Someone should tell Anderson to pray,” Clover said.
“Somehow, I don’t think their souls will be missed all that much in the afterlife,” Yharon noted.
“Maybe, but it would still be the right thing to do,” Clover noted.
“You really think it’ll make a difference?”
Clover shrugged.
“Well, I’m a living pillow right now, so someone else is going to have to do it, unless anyone wants to risk waking Celestia.”
“Can we ask him after we get some rest?” Luna asked.
“I suppose so,” Hammer Strike said. “But don’t get used to sleeping in.”
Luna rolled her eyes and smiled. “Yes, Father.”
The heavy tromp of hooves carried through the streets as box after box and sack after sack of food was systematically packed, checked, and processed. Arrows were fletched and barbed with sharp metal tips, some designed with ridges to force blood to flow all the more quickly after impact. Others were jagged to catch and tear at flesh and nerve. Gear was distributed to each of the soldiers to pack as they practiced setting up and taking down their tents. Gryphons were swift to assist their brothers and sisters in arms, teaching knots and other techniques to hasten the process and help speed their efficiency.
The battle mages were taking shifts between checking their equipment, sparring, and transferring excess mana into prepared gems for use on the battlefield. Clover watched everything with a critical eye, even as armoured robes were handed out slowly by rank of proficiency.
Fletchers and smiths worked tirelessly creating armor, arrows, and javelins in large bundles to be transported with the troops.
Hurricane worked with his officers, setting up how the army was to be grouped, who would lead which sections, and what to do in fringe situations.
For image’s sake, Ainz, Tarefson, and Lord had been left behind to defend the home front. However, with the combined races each donating their part to the army, they’d quickly assembled just over fifty thousand soldiers. Luna, Hammer Strike and several other smiths had worked for the past week straight cranking out arms and armor to equip them. A legion of Ponies, Gryphons, Diamond Dogs and Thestrals stood clad in armour of various high quality metals.
The Thestrals had taken some time to prepare. Unused to the idea of battlefield warfare, it had taken time to organize them among the other ranks. For one thing, they were arrayed more based on their jobs and not their clans. Another was their use of standardized and mass-produced weapons. It was strange seeing the Thestrals in the armor produced with their clans and specialized artwork over said armor, a sticking point they would not budge on. They also had to get used to the heavier armor as well. One thing they took to much better was the arrows and weaponry. The hybrid bow was their favorite weapon now, to the point that most of the archers were Thestral. Another was what Earth would call the Roman short sword. Even while the other Ponies were lining up, the Thesrals were doing last minute practices in combat and attacks. Having to also get used to the idea that they would be battling, not against invaders of their lands, but by the sides of all races and species. A few of the older Thestrals grumbled about this being unnatural and even against the Moon’s wishes. The youngsters were more apt at adapting and soaking in other forms of combat as well as maintaining their peoples’ traditional battle tactics.
Skilled talons carved at wood or scrawled over blueprints as Gryphons and Unicorns put their heads together over various plans and innovations. Trebuchets, catapults, mangonels, and other more physical designs were left in the capable hands of the master craftsmen while Unicorns and Earth Ponies worked to imbue runes and fit various cogs and pieces together on models. Others worked with artisans to craft crystal vials and bottles to hold various potions, concoctions, and ingredients from alchemists and potion masters for use in the field.
Wall’s small order of knights had expanded greatly over the years. His willingness to accept any race had led to many seeking the path of chivalry for themselves. Covered in thick heavy plate mail and armed with no small variety of weapons from greatsword and shields to massive double-bladed axes, the entire order was armed to the teeth and ready to sink their fangs into the enemy. Their mail had been painstakingly enchanted with magic dispersing runes just for this campaign.
Anderson stood among a large array of clerics, all of whom were preparing themselves to go forth and pray for Faust's blessing among the troops. Silver symbols and emblems were given the various rites. Water was sanctified, and scriptures were recited.
Not far off, another sect was meeting. The week prior, Hammer Strike had finally found a priest of Sleipnir he was willing to allow into Unity. The cleric was a large Earth Pony with brown skin and white hair and a large cross-like scar on his forehead. He seemed to prefer answering to Scar, and no one pushed him to give any more information than that. But he’d amassed a small following in a relatively short time. And even now, he was reeling them up as the adherents of Sleipnir prepared to go to war.
Poultice Solution, now a graying stallion, had started to reach past his middle years. He spent many hours putting herbs and potions together in kits with his extended family. His son would be leading a wide group of Earth Ponies and Unicorns solely devoted to healing under the mark of the red cross.
Hurricane approached Hammer Strike and removed his helmet to reveal a mane so gray-streaked that Hammer Strike could hardly tell what his original mane colour was. Despite this, the Pegasus grinned proudly as he gave a short bow of the head.
“Fifty thousand. This is the largest army I've seen in all my days. They’ll be ready to go in another day or so, I believe.”
“Good.” Hammer Strike nodded. “Though I didn’t plan on this being our course of action for dealing with the Unicorns in the beginning, they risked the planet to deal with us. I won’t let that stand.”
“I’ll be honest. I'd have expected us to have needed this step against the Pegasi, not the Unicorns.” Hurricane laughed. “From what our spies tell us, they’re buying up any soldiers they can get their hooves on. I think they're genuinely concerned.”
“They should be.” Hammer Strike frowned. “This will be the only time we will deal with them like this.”
“That's probably why so many voluntarily came for this,” Hurricane noted. “You worry for them; don’t you?”
“I don’t like sending anyone out to their potential death. It’s why I spent so long ensuring every unit we have has the utmost gear they can work with.”
“I’ll say.” Hurricane laughed. “The common soldier here has armor made from materials you might give a hero. It’s that concern that spurs them onward. You care for them. Hells, you burned your own life energy for them. And even now, at the head of the largest army on Equis, your first action is to worry for them. You truly are one of a kind, my friend.”
Hammer Strike gave a faint grin. “Here’s hoping to more some day.”
Hurricane nodded, then sighed heavily. “Hammer Strike, we both know this is likely my last campaign. I hope you’ve given thought to who’s going to take my place.”
“Your son, Storm Squall, most likely. He’s been working nearly as hard as you to work his way up the ranks. Seems like he wants to be the one.” Hammer Strike chuckled.
“He’s like me when I was young.” Hurricane laughed. “Not sure if that's a good or a bad thing, personally, but he’ll do you proud.”
“I’m sure of it.”
“You know, at one time, my people thought I'd end up a king amongst my people.” He looked at Hammer Strike and set a hoof on his shoulder. “I’m glad I found a better stallion for the job.”
Hammer Strike smiled. “I’m glad to have you around as well.”
“Well then, I have checks to make, and you have a speech to prepare.” Hurricane laughed. “Let's give them blood and vinegar out there.”
Hammer Strike nodded. “Show them the reason you don’t toy with fire.”
“All right. By this point, it’s fairly obvious that the usual tactics aren’t going to work. We need options, people, and we need them fast,” Baron Volcan said as he crashed a massive hoof on the floor. Sparks flew from the stone as he peered at his allies with fiery eyes.
“It’s not so simple as that. You saw what that witch did to our mages. I’m not certain how many of them will be able to even use their horns again.” The mare that objected was lime-green with orange streaks through her mane.
“And what would you recommend, Countess Wyrmwood?” A black Pony with a purple mane and vivid green eyes gazed calmly from his place around the table of their council room. “I doubt that Pony will simply wait and twiddle his hooves after what we’ve done. If he has the power to break our hold over the sun and moon, then we are rapidly running out of legitimate options. Barring divine intervention or an infernal contract, it’s likely we will be tracked and then overwhelmed one by one.”
“Given the evidence we’ve seen already, I’d say he possibly has both on his side,” Lord Brass Tax admitted as he looked over the reports.
“Then what do we do?” Volcan demanded.
“How many troops do we have?” Brass tax asked. “What are our numbers like?”
“After all the skirmishes we’ve had with one another and the self-proclaimed lord, we’ve lost much, but even with our incapacitated members, totals indicate upward of five thousand operable troops waiting to mobilize between our factions,” Wyrmwood said.
“Then perhaps it’s time we draw our forces together. We can’t fight over a nation we don’t have the power to hold. We’ll gather our strength and crush this usurper. Then we can decide the true ruler,” Brass Tax stated.
“Given the intelligence our units have given, is that altogether wise?” the black stallion asked. “They obliterated siege forces without any casualties. Do you really think we could fare better?”
“Clearly, they have an advantage in their lands, something special about the properties or some such idea. We’ll simply bring him to us.”
“We’ll need to choose a place to take our stand,” Volcan noted. “Build our defenses, ward it, the usual precautions.”
“I can’t believe we’re actually considering allowing ourselves to be besieged,” Wyrmwood said through clenched teeth.
“While they’re besieging us, we can send out messengers offering gold to any mercenaries they can find, and messengers to any other noble factions that remain. The chance to flank the usurper’s army would prove an apt opportunity for them. As for our own forces, we levy peasants and do whatever else may be necessary to stall.”
“It may require magical domination to get them to comply. Are you willing to go so far beyond the bounds set by King Bullion?” the dark lord asked.
“The old fool is in his grave. What, is his churlish spawn going to punish us?” Tax asked.
“Last I checked, you were the loudest to denounce the use of such arts, Tax. I wonder. Will you be so eager to lick the horseshoes of the Earth Pony, assuming he overwhelms your forces?”
“And tell me, then, of your superior plan,” Tax returned.
“Oh, I never said I had a better one. I just wanted to point out the hypocrisy you’ve been displaying.” He smirked. “My family’s been guarding those spells for generations. I would have used them on that brat, if it weren’t for her pet, and then her paranoia.”
Tax sniffed and turned his head aside. “Sometimes, for the greater good, sacrifices must be made.”
“In that case, the question remains. How do you want the bond to be channeled? A totem they wear, or something more … permanent?” The black pony sneered as he rubbed his hooves together.
“What are some ways this thing is done?”
“There is branding, of course, or a totem like a trinket or armor piece. Helmets could do the trick, if that’s what you desire. Then there’s the more complex form of what equates to a mana network. The compulsion spreads and reinforces itself through a multitude of relays in the form of their horns. Any that fall out of the network can easily be reconnected again, simply by proximity. Very effective.”
“And for our situation, what would you suggest?”
“There are pros and cons to each method. Regardless, it will likely raise the ire of this Hammer Strike when he discovers it. However, it does also allow us a certain amount of leeway in the form of hostages, should it come to that. He cares for the common folk. We’ve seen that time and again. If we have enough resources, I would recommend the helmet route, but given how pressed we are and how we intend to seek out other mercenaries as well, this will likely be the best bet.” He smirked. “Of course, we could always try to dominate the mercenaries, too, but that would lead to trouble, in the fact that we require at least some who are aware enough to lead and implement proper strategy.”
Volcan smashed his hoof into the floor. His face was bleak as his voice bellowed through the chamber. “Enough talk! It’s time for action.”
The dark Pony’s smile widened into a confident sneer. “I couldn’t agree more.”
The expressions on the reconnaissance team’s faces were bleak as they alighted at the camp. The tents were neatly laid in rows in accordance with military protocol. The sun filtered through the vibrant leaves of the trees and offered what equated to a beautiful golden afternoon. This was not the time for bad news. But this was war. And in war, one must come to expect it.
The Gryphon scout approached and saluted Hammer Strike. “Pierre reporting, Sir.”
“What are we looking at?”
“The enemy has opted for entrenching themselves and building a strong defense. They have many working tirelessly on embankments and other barriers and strategies to deter direct assaults. We couldn’t get a clear reading from our height, but it appears they are also working on enchanting the surrounding area with various spells. A black stallion was seen weaving among the people to assess their work. It also seems that a certain number of mercenaries are camped nearby. I would assume they’re attempting to recruit a force sufficient to stand against us. I’d wager no more than about six thousand troops at the moment.”
Hammer Strike hummed as he thought over the information. “Where is the heaviest concentration of forces?”
“For now, they’ve distributed them evenly throughout the surrounding grounds and holed up in a miniature keep. We’ll have to be careful, though. There are a lot of civilians we’ll have to deal with.”
“We’ll need to lure what we can out before storming in.” Hammer Strike sighed. “Give them time to deal with civilians, or we work against the issue and hope the training everyone received was enough. While I trust everyone, there is still a risk of uncertainty or accidents.”
“Farseeker should be back soon with the report on the types of magic active in the area. Did you want me to inform the troops to prepare for mobilization or wait until after his report?”
“Wait for the report. Then we’ll determine our course of action.”
“Yes, Sir.” The Gryphon saluted. “Permission to dismiss?”
“Granted.”
The troops filed out, leaving Hammer Strike to ponder his next move.
“It should be a quick fight, at least,” Celestia said. “That’s a relief.”
“Don’t underestimate your enemy,” Hammer Strike warned. “It’s a quick method to overconfidence, and that is a steep hole to fall in.”
“Yes, Father,” Celestia acknowledged.
“Perhaps we should send the sappers out, make them believe we’re going right for the kill? See if we can’t make them pull in deeper,” Luna suggested.
“Has potential, but I’d like to hear what the rest of our scouts have to report first.”
“It’s a safe bet that they’ll have a bevy of magical traps waiting to be tripped,” Yharon noted. “It’s just a question of which ones we’ll have to deal with, and then neutralizing them.”
“I’ll be applying our mobile seal, disrupting the magic channels of the area outside of those of Unity.”
“Then regardless of what they have planned, we should be able to move forward without too much difficulty other than physical opposition.”
“The problem, however, is magic traps. Based off the properties of magic itself, it becomes a bit more … complicated when it’s set on itself.” Hammer Strike frowned. “So, they could still work. Not all, but some of them.”
“I wish we’d brought Ainz.” Clover saighed. “We could just send his undead at them until the way is clear.”
“Wouldn’t that lead to casualties, Mother?” Yharon asked.
“Even if they could kill the undead, Ainz can just make more. They’re not alive.”
“I was referring to the civilians, Mother.”
“I’ve seen the control Ainz can have, Yharon. I’ve watched him have several dozen death knights thread needles and sew with living people around them without issue.”
“And again, I meant in regards to the traps that might be triggered, assuming there are civilians in the vicinity. But, knowing the strategy you and Father tend to employ, I assume such attempts wouldn’t be made while civilians are present to be affected in the first place.”
“Honestly, we can’t be sure.” Clover sighed. “Not every nation handles a siege like Unity. You’ve been blessed in that you’ve never seen war aside from the way Unity does it.”
“You’re suggesting they’ll use them as hostages?”
“Or as labor force. Food supply, if they get really desperate,” Clover said.
“That’s despicable!”
“That’s war,” Hammer Strike commented simply.
“Is there a way we might liberate them before we press the assault?”
“Depends. How fast do you think you could draw a gateway rune and draw them into it before they skewer you with arrows and spears?” Clover asked.
“As well as convince them of us being just,” Hammer Strike added. “Remember, they’ve spread so much slander against us that their subjects have me in their mind as a dark lord, ruling over everyone using forbidden contracts, etcetera, etcetera.”
“Unfortunately, Yharon, this is war.” Clover put a hoof on the Dragon’s leg in consolation. “Maybe this battle will show you how lucky we are.”
Yharon frowned. “I admit I’m not looking forward to it. But I understand it’ll be necessary.”
“This is why I tried to avoid it.” Hammer Strike sighed. “But sometimes, you can’t let things stay their course.”
“When the reports come in, we’ll know better,” she told Yharon. “Perhaps we can save some.”
“Not bucking likely.” The Pegasus spat after it landed. Unlike the other troops, this one had been outfitted with goggles that carried special lenses formed by Hammer Strike, himself, to see magic. “It ain’t pretty, Hammer Strike. Not by a long shot.”
Hammer Strike frowned. “What’s the situation we’re dealing with?”
“Black. Lots of black.” He scowled. “Most of it around the workers. There’s compulsion at work here.”
“Delightful. They’ve made a pact.” Hammer Strike sighed. “Clover, ideas?”
“Send Lord in? I mean, he outranks almost anything they could bring in, right?”
“It’s a possibility, but we lose some power on the home front. We can’t be stretched too thin there. How dense was the magical field you witnessed, Farsight?”
“Right now, more like a spider web, but the miasma is building.”
Hammer Strike hummed. “If it’s not that built so far, then I should be able to deal with it.”
“What do you recommend?”
“Ensure our devices work, and prepare for the assault.”
“I’ll filter your orders through the ranks. Got a time in particular you wanted to strike?”
“Middle of the night. They’ll be miserable after all this work with no rest.”
The Pegasus nodded. “Yes, Sir. I’ll alert the rest of the troops. Permission to depart?”
“Granted.”
The flyer was off like a shot.
“So, what method did you want to utilize for dispulsion?” Celestia asked.
“Simple. I’ll rip the power out of it and leave it to die a mortal death,” Hammer Strike replied.
“You’ll have to find it first,” Yharon noted. “And you’ll need to know what it is, won’t you?”
“Easy enough to track down, since I got an idea of what I’m looking for.”
“... You’re not going to go looking for it alone again, like you did with the vampire, are you?”
“I never said that, did I?” Hammer Strike asked. “But yes, I’ll probably fight it alone. If it’s still in a weaker stage and gaining power, it still has time before it reaches full potential. So, if I cut it off before it can reach its final stage, then we’ll have less to worry about. Of course, I’ll probably have Clover as backup, just in case. Lord would notice if something’s going wrong and appear practically instantly. So, I’ve got most ends covered.”
“Then I suppose we’ll hold back and tend the troops,” Yharon said. “Luna’s practically bursting with excitement at the thought.”
“To battle and to glory.” Luna smiled, swinging her mace. “I’m looking forward to paying back those nobles for what they tried to do to Celi.”
“Pazuzu,” the black stallion called as he peered over the workers from his tower. A cold wind blew through the keep as the shadows lengthened surrounding the room and drew toward a mirror. A large bipedal figure coated in feathers with taloned hands and feet and four wings on his back materialized.
“You called, and I have answered, Ferasi. What do you want?”
“An update. The others are getting nervous. We know the invading force is near. We wish to know of their numbers, their equipment, anything that you might be able to tell us.”
Pazuzu’s eyes glowed bright red as he stared at the Pony. “Circumstances are grim, indeed,” he warned in a deep voice. “The one you call Hammer Strike is well known throughout the infernal planes. He is not to be trifled with. My power will not be enough to destroy him. At most, I may be able to delay him, and I am not of an inclination to do so.”
Ferasi’s eyes widened. “You what?”
“You heard me, Ferasi. He cowed some of the greatest lords of the hells. I suggest you either bend the knee or flee this land, because he cannot be bought, and he cannot be stopped. I guarantee he would kill me in a matter of seconds. Return me to my home. This contract is no longer profitable.”
“That’s unacceptable!”
“That is reality. You contracted with me, Ferasi, and I answered your call because I did not know your enemy. Had you told me, I would have severed the contract before allowing you to call me to this world.” The image of the bird creature began to fade, though a hint of a smirk seemed to pull at the corners of its mouth. “Farewell, Ferasi. Know that your opponents vastly outnumber you. That is the last kindness I will offer you. Now send me back.”
“I won’t!”
“Then consider our contract formally severed. You and your allies will die alone. No demon alive will help you when they learn who you wish to fight.”
“But the price!”
“I can find my own way back to hell. And your soul is not nearly so precious as the time it will take me to reconstitute my losses after this battle. Goodbye, Ferasi.”
The sound of shattering glass and the shriek of outrage that emanated from the towers below proved more than satisfying to the demon as he closed his connection. The severance of his contract left him feeling more sick than well, but at least he would live. Assuming he could avoid rousing Hammer Strike’s wrath.
Pazuzu turned from his place on the clouds above the settlement and eyed the enemy camp warily. Without his summoner to send him back, he would need one of equal or greater power capable of creating a path back to the Abyss. And, regrettably, the only ones capable nearby resided in the enemy camp.
Now he just had to figure out how to make his request without getting permanently destroyed.
Until he suddenly found himself no longer hovering in the clouds, but standing on solid earth hemmed in by forest. The clearing was not natural. The remains of trees and saplings dotted the area in the form of crude and jagged stumps. The creature that had conquered all the lords of hell now stood before him.
Honesty would likely prove the best course. “You pulled me from my perch,” he noted. “Impressive. Though I had hoped to approach you of my own volition, once I assured a means to do so without you killing me.”
Hammer Strike hummed. “Considering the situation, I took a more direct approach.”
“And you intend to kill me?”
“Considering who you work for, yes.”
“Worked for,” he corrected. “Had I known you were Ferasi’s adversary, I would never have come in the first place. Assuming you have a means to determine such things, you will note that my contract to him has been severed.”
“Noted,” Hammer Strike replied simply.
The avian creature folded his arms. “Given our mutual interest in certain goals, I have a proposition to make that will be to our mutual benefit, assuming you are willing to entertain one.”
“I want to return to my plane in the Abyss. My summoner refuses to dismiss me, and since I have severed my contract, I have no means to return home easily. You, however, have the resources that would allow me safe passage. I, on the other hand, have intelligence that I can offer you and the ability to strip Ferasi of all dark powers I and other lesser demons have granted him, up to and including curses, traps, and the all-important compulsion that even now drives those Ponies to obey without question or complaint. Indeed, that particular process has already begun.”
“Dispelling powers such as that are simple enough,” Hammer Strike replied flatly. “What else do you have to offer?”
“Intelligence, my speed, and the means to ensure that no other troops can be found to reinforce what has already been gathered at the staging grounds. I can also summon all manner of creatures to reinforce your troops and take out your opponents without having to shed the blood of your own servants.”
“Let me be clear with you.” Hammer Strike looked at the demon disdainfully. “I trust you as much as I trusted the Alicorns. Which is to say, I’d rather kill you to ensure you hold no threat to me or my subjects.”
“I am no threat when they don’t know my name. That is how I am summoned. And as to your not trusting me, I am not asking you to do so. Frankly, you’d be a fool to in the first place. My self-interest, on the other hand, is trustworthy. And I would be willing to bind myself to a pact to that effect, if necessary.”
“With how easily you broke your previous? I’d rather not.” Hamme Strike raised his hoof off to the side as thaumic fire surrounded it. Next to the two of them, a small rift opened. “Leave. I’ve already ensured you are no threat to my subjects or myself.”
Pazuzu smiled and bowed. “A pleasure doing business with you, Hammer Strike.” And then he stepped through the rift.
Hammer Strike cut off the rift before brushing his coat off. “Enjoy yourself, Lord.”
Ferasi pawed frantically through his collection of tomes as time continued to pass. With the severance of Pazuzu’s support, his dark powers were significantly weakened, but not altogether gone. The charms and totems he had given to some of the workers would hopefully keep them in line, at least. Regrettably, the others would likely be waking soon enough, and the other nobles weren’t willing to pool their collective mana toward that end, even with the direness of the situation. They might succeed in compelling lesser fiends to their will if they did, but alone, there was little to be done.
“Hello, seeker of dark secrets.” A voice old and dusty as time, yet dark and evil as the Abyss filtered through the study. The air became cold, and a feeling of dread passed through the Unicorn’s spine as a bipedal figure appeared behind him. What creature the being was, he’d never been sure. It had long since rotted to a skeleton with only thin white hair on its head. The entity held a book in its left hand, a tome covered in leather of a creature the Unicorn didn’t wish to know. Its left hand was gone from the wrist, and its right eye socket was crushed and empty. It wore a black circlet with a vicious spike on its head. Its face was a laughing skull.
Ferasi jumped and turned around, his horn flaring with dark energies. “Who are—?” He stopped and gaped, then began to tremble. While the shape was not familiar, the magic emanating from the creature left little doubt as to what it was.
“Do you not remember me?” the lich asked in a cold neutral tone. “Do you forget the pact we made? Come, the time has come to embrace Lord Vecna.”
Ferasi’s scream of terror reverberated through the corridors, and then cut off into poignant and immediate silence. A dry rustling chuckle stirred the dust in the corners of the corridors and whispered of things unspeakable and best forgotten. The lesser deity had claimed his prize. As for what fate lay in store for the Unicorn, only Vecna and time would tell.
Two thousand five hundred random soldiers camped before the Unicorn fort. Their species varied, though they were primarily Gryphons. They were dressed in a mishmash of colors and had a variety of arms and chosen warriors to bear their mercenary company standards. Currently, most were asleep, and the few sentries put out sat by the fire trying to stave off the cold of the night.
They heard nothing as Hammer Strike’s Thestral forces formed the first ranks. Velvet wings flapped noiselessly as they moved in. Blow pipes were produced, and a wave of thousands of poisoned darts rained down on the camp. Most of the sentires only felt a prick before they began convulsing. Many in the tents would never wake up. After the darts, the Thestrals charged with tomahawks raised, taking out as many as they could before the alarm sounded. Several minutes after it did, they vanished into the night.
The survivors gathered themselves up, still paranoid, but thinking their enemy had fled. They began taking tallies of losses and preparing to report when the rumbling was heard. The thunder of hooves and wingbeats filled the air as a massive host charged their camp from the dark.
Clouds brooded overhead with flickers of lightning and rumbling thunder while the warriors crashed against the regrouping mercenaries with the force of a tsunami. Those that were quick enough to respond were able to guard against the oncoming blows, but their defense was not at full strength, and holes had been opened as a result of the previous assault, leaving the fighters hard pressed to hold the line. The task became even more difficult as lightning began to rain from the sky, striking only the defending forces. Any time it would jump toward one of the invaders, the bolt would split around their bodies and arc to another mercenary, instead.
Gryphons sought to take wing, only to find themselves bound to the ground. Any attempts at spellcrafting by the few loyal Unicorn troops were completely suppressed by a higher force of unknown origins. And due to the mysterious disappearance of Ferasi, what few dark magical defenses they had managed to raise crumbled easily. In short, this was not to be a proper conflict. This was a slaughter. And the mercenaries were just the appetizers.
As the bloodbath commenced, the engineers moved up with their heavy siege engines. Trebuchets and siege towers rolled nigh-undetected toward the walls in the darkness. By the time the city knew about the attack, the walls were beginning to swarm. Mercenaries and battle mages jumped to repel the invaders, but with weak to no magic and flight unavailable, the battle quickly became one-sided as Hammer Strike’s forces tore through the opposition.
At that point, many soldiers began to take their leave of combat, or at least tried to. What few may have succeeded soon found their way blocked by the Thestrals that had hidden in the trees. Those who did manage to scream didn’t for very long.
“Damn it,” one of the Gryphon generals growled. “We’re being overrun.” He smote valiantly with his talons, cutting the throats of multiple aggressors. “Someone, get those no good nobles outside and ready to fight!” he roared. “If we’re going down, then they’re coming with us.”
“Sir, nobody’s really available right now,” another Gryphon said, then grunted as he fought back against a broadsword’s blow.
“Do I look like I care? I took money to protect this outpost, not to die.”
“Sir!” the soldier cried, scandalized at the implications behind that sentence before he was fatally stabbed.
Back in the fort, the nobles gathered in their chamber to discuss the progress of the invasion and their attempts to allay the siege. None had been able to locate Ferasi, not even with a powerful spell. This meant either he was dead or something worse and more powerful had made it so he could not be found or seen.
Wyrmwood gazed around the gathering and nodded her head grimly. “We’ve lost Ferasi and are about to suffer a protracted siege. Does anyone have any ideas on how best to proceed?”
Volcan growled. “Isn’t it obvious? Ferasi has either abandoned us or the price for his magic caught up with him. Either way, we’ve been left to fend for ourselves. You’ve seen the way they cut swaths through the troops. We need to either counter these intruders’ magics to level the playing field or we need to retreat to fight another day. Brass Tax! You know the numbers and odds better than any of us. What’s the most likely outcome for us to survive at this point?”
“Not good,” Brass Tax admitted.
“I said outcome, not odds, colt!” Volcan bellowed.
“Volcan!” Wyrmwood snapped. “Get your temper under control. Like it or not, we’re all in this together, and fighting or berating will get us nowhere!”
Volcan glared at the mare. “Neither will wasting our time. Our troops are dying. Our flanks are getting handed to us and shoved down our throats. And unless our de facto analyst and I can devise a strategy that will allow us to survive, we’ll all be facing a higher power within a fortnight!”
“What strategy?” Brass Tax asked. “They’re already swarming the walls.”
“Then what are you suggesting, that we curl up like cowards?”
“I don’t know,” Brass Tax said.
“Well, if I’m going to die, it won’t be here.” Volcan turned aside and stomped toward the door. “Cower or run, if you wish. I intend to fight.”
Just as he reached the front doors, they burst inward, sending him flying back until he slammed into the conference table. Volcan groaned heavily as Hammer Strike walked in flanked by a party of three individuals, one Gryphoness, one Pegasus, and one Thestral.
Hammer Strike simply hummed as he scanned over the opposition.
“Volcan!” Wyrmwood cried, this time in dismay. The mare glared at the intruders. “You filthy little—” An arrow zipped past her cheek, leaving a thin trickle of blood in its wake as it embedded itself into the wall behind her.
“I’d watch your tongue if i were you, lady. And I use that term loosely,” the Gryphon said in a level tone. A second arrow had already been nocked in her longbow.
Wyrmwood glared, but otherwise remained silent. Without her capacity for magic, she had no means to fight, and Volcan had already been incapacitated.
“Honestly, I had expected more,” Hammer Strike replied, then sighed. “So, your lot have been running this garbage fire you call a war.”
Wyrmwood maintained her silence. She wouldn’t give Hammer Strike the satisfaction of any further acknowledgement.
The Earth Pony was unphased. “Makes my job easier.” Hammer Strike shrugged before gesturing toward them. “Capture for trial.”
“Do they have to be in pristine condition?” the Gryphoness asked.
“While I would say no, let’s keep things clean this time. If they fight back, however, have fun.”
A sinister toothy grin beamed unsettlingly on the two nobles that were still conscious. “Please tell me you have at least a little fight in you,” she said.
Brass Tax said nothing as he assumed a neutral stance.
“So, who wants who, just in case?” the Gryphoness asked as they approached the Unicorns to take them into proper custody, including fitting each of them with a magic dampening ring to ensure none would cause any trouble after Hammer Strike lifted the field he’d cast over the area.
It didn’t take long to divvy up the initial assignments. As the largest member of the party, it fell to the Gryphoness to carry Volcan until such time as he could return to consciousness and then be dealt with. The other two calmly led Wyrmwood and Brass Tax out in front of Hammer Strike. They saluted their lord as they passed and nodded their approval. Without the head that these particular nobles had formed, the other parties that adhered to this faction would likely be tripping over themselves to either pledge loyalty or try to take each other out in the ensuing power struggle created by the vacuum.
Regardless of the outcome, Hammer Strike would be ready for them.
The throne room at the former seat of power for the Unicorn kingdom was an opulent structure filled with great wooden supports painted in a variety of colors to highlight the rich nature of the court, or what had once been the court. The room was vastly underpopulated, and the vaulted ceiling left an uncomfortable feeling of open space and a harsh echo to every action that made it ring with a sense of dreadful finality. Queen Platinum gazed upon the empty room and sighed. Few, if any of the nobles that had been loyal to her father had remained. Her throne, while an excellent blend of gold and other precious metals, was an empty symbol without the support of the people who once served it.
A shining crown forged from the metal that was her namesake sat atop her head. It had been bedecked with precious sapphires, polished lapis lazuli, and a series of pearls each carefully mounted to offer a beautiful aesthetic. Unfortunately, that was all the crown could offer; that and the weight it pressed on her brow every day. Dust sifted thickly through the halls, and the spaces where many a banner had once hung now were empty or carried the smallest remnants of a burnt tapestry that had borne a rebellious house’s coats of arms.
Eventually, the doors opened, revealing Hammer Strike as he looked upon the room. “And here you are,” he commented.
“Hammer Strike, I presume.” She inclined her head wearily. “I believe this may be the first time we’ve actually met in person.”
“You would be correct,” he replied, finally directing his attention to her. “But, given the letters and what I have looked into, I know how you operate.”
“Then you know it would have been nicer to send a letter and give me warning.”
“You had less than two weeks to live at that rate,” Hammer Strike replied flatly. “They were all on the move, and plans were drafted to … shift control, to put it lightly.”
“I was referring to your intent to visit, but yes, I am not ungrateful for the role you played in defending my sovereignty.”
“No, no. We’re not continuing this.” Hammer Strike shook his head. “This whole ‘Kingdom of Unicorns,’ isn’t going to continue being a thing. The blatant disregard of life and rights, the countless hours of plotting behind backs, knives in the dark, it’s done. As of this moment forward, I am taking charge of everything. My lands, and these, are to be absorbed into one nation.”
“And if I were to refuse?”
“Do you expect me to say, ‘I’ll have to kill you?’ No, you can go live out in the woods, for all I care.”
“I am still queen.”
“No, you aren’t,” Hammer Strike replied bluntly as he started to walk toward her. “If you really find yourself to still be a queen, then you are completely blind to the world around you.”
“I swore I would carry on my father’s legacy.”
“You did.” Hammer Strike nodded. “You carried it to his grave. You didn’t carry it a trot away from it. Your subjects conspire against you. Others starve, and afterwards, die.”
“And you think I’ve done nothing? You think I haven’t tried to keep the peace, to negotiate?”
“You ordered everyone to do your bidding for you. In the entirety of your rule, you have paid such a minor amount of attention to the world around you. You think you spent your time trying for peace, but you didn’t put anything on the bargaining table. You brought nothing and made demands to each and every noble in your kingdom. Trying to ‘negotiate’ peace was you telling them to stop what they’re doing or else,” he replied flatly. “Your attempts to negotiate peace with my kingdom was to try and arrange a marriage where you still had power and were left along to continue this cycle day in and day out while I would have to pick up the scraps that you call a nation.” By this point, Hammer Strike had reached the throne and stared down at her unopposed. His voice was soft, controlled, and filled with contempt. “You let everyone down, and still claim yourself to be in the right to satisfy your own foolish pride. In short, you’re no better than a child threatening to throw a tantrum when she doesn’t get her way.”
Platinum drew herself up to her full height on the throne. It wasn’t that impressive a display, since she was still shorter than Hammer Strike, even then. “I do not have to answer to you.”
“Then you can leave. I’ll even throw in an extra favor. I’ll have your previous guards help you out,” Hammer Strike replied simply. He stomped his hoof against the ground, and the clang of the metal horseshoe rang imperiously. The doors flung open, and Drakenfeller strode in flanked by the silver-garbed guards.
“Ah, Drakenfeller. You have returned. Our court has been poor company of late without your council.”
Drakenfeller offered a slight nod of the head in deference to his former monarch. “I’m sorry, your Majesty, but you brought this on yourself. I serve my people. Would that you had done the same for yours.” He motioned sadly with his horn. “If my lord would allow a small indulgence. May we be gentle with her?”
“I hold no ill will against her. Should she resist and act violently, respond accordingly. If not, do what you will.” Hammer Strike strode purposefully toward the door. “Should she change her mind, keep me posted. I won’t turn away those who can be redeemed.”
Drakenfeller bowed. “Thank you.” A few seconds later, the guards approached their former princess and queen.
“Drakenfeller,” Platinum said. A hint of desperation edged its way into her voice.
“I’m sorry it came to this, Majesty. You may keep the crown. It should give you enough to barter with for supplies and other necessities, though I advise disposing of it as soon as possible. There are many who would not take kindly to the sight of it.”
Platinum’s screams reverberated through the hall and Drakenfeller’s ears as the monarch was shepherded from the room. His name echoed last of all as the doors shut with a dreadful finality, and the noble looked upon the ancient throne he had served so faithfully in his formative years. Tears flowed down his cheeks as he bowed his head in hollow deference for the last time. “I’m sorry, my king,” he whispered. Then he, too, left the crumbling remains of the hall, and the once great throne was left to sit forever preserved within its tomb. No other soul would claim it.
Drakenfeller sighed as he exorcised those feelings of guilt and left them behind. He had a duty to fulfill to his new king, after all. Hammer Strike may not have been born a noble, but he truly was Noble.
“Keep an eye on her, would you, Drakenfeller?” Hammer Strike requested.
Drakenfeller started only for a moment, then immediately regained his composure. “In what capacity, Lord?”
“Keep her from getting herself killed out there.” He sighed. “She still is a child in her perspective of the world, and it will be abused outside of our kingdom.”
“Do you think there’s hope for her?”
“She’s naive, but not a lost cause.” He shrugged. “It may take up to a year for her. At most, it’ll take roughly sixteen months for her to realize how much easier and better things would be for her to accept the deal.”
“And if she is attacked?”
“Have someone assist from the shadows, if necessary.”
Drakenfeller bowed his head. “Thank you, Hammer Strike.”
“I’ll let you see to that. I have to go round up the stragglers.”
“It will be done,” Drakenfeller promised and strode purposefully down the halls.
With the retrieval of vital documents from the stronghold, it was a simple matter to identify the remaining co-conspirators and their locations and fallback points. The war, if it could even be called that, would be over in a matter of weeks, once these disparate elements were either eliminated or incorporated into the rapidly developing kingdom. A few dramatic displays from Celestia and Luna proved powerful motivators to the nobles.
Getting them to stay in line, however, was a different challenge. Rather than deal with the drama of trying to keep them in their lands, the nobles were systematically captured, bound, and carted to Unity, where they would languish in prison under what they would believe to be unbearable conditions, despite the relatively comfortable accomodations Unity’s prison cells provided compared to most noble dungeons. In time, the captives would be given the choice to either agree to the terms of Binding’s contracts or continue to remain imprisoned.
Many wouldn’t even think of agreeing at first, until they had to endure a fiendish combination of yodels from the Earth Pony guards, poor two-dimensional jokes that hurt almost as badly as a sword to the belly from a couple of Unicorns, and the constant bellows of drill sergeants coming for inspection. By the time the month was over, they’d all practically begged for Hammer Strike to let them sign.
Binding peered over the notes on his desk and nodded in satisfaction, then tapped the communication crystal Hammer Strike had provided and waited for the magic to activate. “Hammer Strike, do you have a minute?”
“What’s up?” Hammer Strike asked.
“Just wanted to give you an update. It seems the majority of the nobles in custody have agreed to the contracts. There are still a few holdouts, but I’m confident they’ll see the benefits of joining Unity in time. I just wanted to ask for an update on any of the newer prisoners. Do we have many more coming in or are my services going to need to shift toward other duties?”
“Currently, we’re coming clear of prisoners. I’ll still need you to keep an eye on things until those cells are clear, however.”
“We’ll keep a close watch. Don’t you worry,” he promised. “Though, in other news, Celestia sent a relay that was somewhat puzzling. Something about fire and birds? She was rather incoherent when the message came through. You or Clover may want to speak with her when she returns to the city.”
“I’ll keep that in mind and alert Clover.”
“Thank you. You may also consider giving her and Luna some time to focus on control again. Their newfound power is … somewhat overwhelming when they get excited.”
“Probably for the best.” Hammer Strike hummed. “I’ll see to it. Any further updates?”
“Not so many on my end at the moment. I may have something to discuss with you later on, but I need to run a few more tests before I do.”
“Understood. Keep me posted.”
Binding nodded. “Will do. Binding out.” He silenced his communication crystal and peered at the focus Hammer Strike had given him. It hovered in a stasis field as lines of arcane script and other symbols circled around it in a holographic display for him to analyze. He rubbed his chin curiously as he looked over old notes, citizenship records, and other documents he had helped to draft and file over the years. He had hoped to find the answer there, but other than proof of time passing, there was little else to be gleaned. He frowned as he looked back at his focus. “Just what did you do to me?” he murmured.
Celestia looked shamefaced as she presented the egg in Clover’s lab. The orange shade at its base licked up in a simulation of the flames that would become the creature’s element, and were highlighted by the bright yellow at its top. “It happened on the way to one of the keeps. I was … startled by the birds’ approach and reacted instinctively.”
“What type of bird did you encounter?” Clover asked as she studied it.
“I felt a certain connection to them, however brief, before they … died. I suppose consumed might be a better descriptor.”
“Phoenixes,” Hammer Strike spoke up as he looked the egg over. “You’ve encountered phoenixes.”
“The legendary fire bird?” Celestia asked.
“Well, it’s at least that for the egg we have here.” Hammer Strike hummed. “As for your encounter, well, it’s most likely the case.”
“And I killed them.” Celestia managed to maintain her composure, but a slight tremor worked its way into her voice when she spoke. “If that had been one of ours….”
“They’re not dead,” Clover said plainly.
“But I didn’t see any ash,” Celestia objected. “If I had, I would have left the egg be.”
“Phoenixes are known for having an impish nature,” Clover explained. “It’s entirely likely you were the victim of a prank.”
“Should I expect them to come looking for their egg, then? I don’t think I’d know where to return it.”
“That, in turn, is the problem.” Hammer Strike sighed. “They’re unlikely to track things this far.”
“Then what do we do?”
“Well, you’re about to learn a new lesson.” Hammer Strike shrugged. “Someone will have to take care of that phoenix, and neither Clover nor I have the time. So, you’ll be the one to look after it.”
“Me? I don’t even know how to hatch it, let alone raise it.”
“You’ll have to learn.” Hammer Strike gave a small smile. “Last I recall, one of the tablets we came here with was a bestiary. It’s likely to contain logs on them. If not, Clover may have something. And if neither work out, I’ll give you what information you need.”
“I’m not sure I’m ready to be a mother,” Celestia said as she stared at the egg with wide eyes. “But … then again, I suppose I don’t have much choice.”
“You do, but one comes with an amount of disappointment.” Hammer Strike shrugged.
“And we both know I can’t afford to do that to the one who raised me.” Celestia smiled weakly. “Where did you say that tablet was again?”
“In the stockpile, second basement.”
There was a knock at Hammer Strikes door.
Hammer Strike hummed to himself as he looked towards the door. “Clear to enter.”
“Father are you busy?” Luna asked as she opened the door.
“Not at the moment. What’s up?”
“I’ve finished the set-up of my workshop. I was hoping you’d be willing to take a look,” she said in a display of bashfulness not entirely in character as she blushed and bowed her head.
“Of course.” Hammer Strike gave a gentle smile. “I assume you located it somewhere out of Unity?”
Luna chuckled. “About several hundred miles north by northwest, if I have my guess right.”
Hammer Strike hummed as he thought over the world map for a moment. “Near or within a crater?”
“The crater of a somewhat extinct volcano.” Luna nodded.
“Makes enough sense. I’ll assume you have your teleportation spell mastered enough for transport of more than yourself. So, whenever you’re ready to leave.”
“I actually have a somewhat different approach.” She grinned. “Follow me.”
Hammer Strike simply nodded and followed as requested.
Luna led him through the house and down several halls to one of the lesser used corners of the house. At the end of the hall stood a tall archaic-looking mirror with a face of black volcanic glass. Hammer Strike could feel it brimming with a unique magic that seemed to burn and yet feel cold even at a distance.
“It’s a corridor,” Luna explained. “I created a tunnel through a seperate area. I’m not entirely sure what its nature is, but there was nothing in it.”
“Somewhat risky, but certainly effective.” Hammer Strike nodded.
Luna tapped the mirror and the surface rippled gently. “After you.” She gestured with a hoof.
Hammer Strike gave a brief chuckle before moving through the surface of the mirror.
The corridor was cold, and while Hammer Strike was breathing something, he wasn’t entirely sure it was air. Still, the area did seem truly empty. The only aspect outside of the corridor which had magic infused into it was only void, true emptiness. In a few moments, he felt himself encounter something, and he stepped through into a different area entirely.
The crater was massive. The walls of the cone reaching upwards towards the summit seemed to dwarf everything beneath them with impudence. At the caldera, struts and reinforced supports had been fashioned and connected inwards. Hammer Strike could see places where the supports could be adjusted for the mass of the center. In the center, cradled carefully on all sides, was the crystal he’d given her. It sat directly above a large anvil on a dais in the center.
Geothermal heat pulsed beneath a large metal furnace that stood red hot and ready to go. Charcoal was placed in a bin nearby, but was clearly not necessary for its operation. Around the outer surface, empty racks for armor and weapons covered the southern lip while tough crates of various ingots covered the north. To the east was a large board of various tools, and to the west were stations for related but non-smithing work regarding weapon crafting.
“Well, now,” Hammer Strike commented as he looked around.
“I used magic to pull up the geothermal energy. As this was a volcano, it was significantly closer to the surface than anywhere else. I’ve stabilized it to the point it’s not likely to erupt, and then placed the focusing stone to where the moon will hit it full on.”
“Very well done.” Hammer Strike nodded as he scanned over everything. “Place should be good to run for a long time with that mindset.”
“Well, I am going to live a very long time.” Luna laughed. “It will be nice to have somewhere apart from Celestia.”
“And that’s what I was waiting for.” Hammer Strike chuckled.
“Waiting for?” Luna asked.
“The ability to get away from your sister.” Hammer Strike smirked. “Figured you’d mention that bonus.”
“It’s also a place to create,” she noted. “To work on my own projects.”
“Which is great. Having your own space is definitely a way to clear your mind.”
“Who knows? One day, I may be making things as great as your works in here.”
“Well, I can’t let you have that so easily.” Hammer Strike chuckled. “But, who knows?”
Luna smiled softly. “Thank you for coming to see this. Your approval means a lot.”
“I anticipate seeing what you create here.” He smiled. “For now, I probably should return to Unity. Divine knows that I’m probably needed for something. Remind me to show you my personal forge someday.”
Luna’s smile widened. “I look forward to it. I think I’ll stay here, finish setting up.”
Hammer Strike nodded as one of his gates opened at his side. “I’ll see you at dinner,” he commented before walking through.
The ring of pickaxes and other tools was complemented by the scrape of claw and paw digging steadily into dirt and stone. The mine had expanded significantly since its initial tunneling, and the Diamond Dogs had expanded with it, building a prosperous den and pack to support the lord above. For some reason, Hammer Strike shuddered every time he heard that phrase, and repeatedly asked them not to use it to the point where it finally became an order.
Cart after cart of gemstones and earth clods were rolled out in equal measure to either be shipped to Unity and surrounding settlements and duchies or kept within their own dens for use in various technological endeavors. Most of their tinkering came to little effect, but certain tools were adapted for use, including hand drills and other devices designed to help with more solid earth and rock.
The benefits of working under Hammer Strike had allowed the pack to flourish and even integrate with the Gryphons, despite what had happened off the continent. Yharon strode casually through the tunnels to observe the process.
“You know, it never ceases to amaze me the way magic weaves through these tunnels,” he said.
His guide smiled as she pulled her work goggles off. The Diamond Dog had to be around her early twenties. Her fur was longer than her fellows, and her features were more akin to that of a collie. “You should’ve seen how we reacted after Hammer Strike made these lenses for us. The job is so much easier when you can actually see the best places to dig.”
“Your den mother couldn’t thank him enough.” Yharon chuckled as he pulled a small gem shard from a nearby cart, then frowned upon closer examination. “This one looks like it was cleaved.”
“That’s the one downside of our current toolset. We’ve managed to free several gem deposits without difficulty, but the quality is questionable when it comes to the finer aspects of removal.”
“You know, you could ask some Gryphons to come down and help. They specialize in stonework. They’d probably have some tricks that could increase the quality of raw material for us to process.”
“There are some of us who fear losing our ability to contribute properly if we do that,” she admitted sheepishly.
“When we have so many who still favor the guard over other trades?” Yharon raised a skeptical brow.
“If they know how to make the tools, and it doesn’t involve their beaks or talons, I suppose we could always submit a request.”
“I’ll run it by Father next time I see him,” Yharon promised. “You know how he is. He admires working hard, but not if you work stupidly.”
The guide chuckled. “Too true. Well, while we’re down here, would you like to see some of the new geode formations we’ve discovered?”
“Of course. Lead on, Eleanor.”
The years passed on as they are wont to do, and with the joining of the Unicorn nobles came the birth of prosperity under Hammer Strike’s guiding hoof. The great walled city had expanded to the point where it had developed two more great walls, each with their own segments housed within the rings. Since Hammer Strike wouldn’t tolerate any citizen holding themselves above another, he made sure that each sector of the city would be built equally. Housing codes were introduced to prevent any Pony from exceeding a certain amount of space in their dwelling.
The merchants’ quarters and other trade segments of the city were each carefully divided for maximum efficiency to aid in the development of the city. Those who dared to show any form of tribalism or racism were dealt with swiftly via the guard. A delegation from Zebrica had even come to open a dialogue after word of the dragon turtle’s defeat had spread.
The great tomb of Nazarick had been expanded into a proper fortress in its own right with a number of floors and artificial environments designed to help its undead, demonic, hellish, and other forces feel at home as they went about their duties in service to their lord.
As great as the tomb had become, so too had the church of Faust grown into a mighty cathedral built to house the many patrons who had chosen to attend and worship there.
The house of Sleipnir was what many outsiders might consider an oddity. Its outside was lined with a series of thick wooden pillars, each embedded with various symbols for war: shields, swords, coats of arms, battle axes, and more. The doorway was framed with a triangular arch at the top that housed a massive shield relief with a greatspear behind it. Inside, the hall was divided into a series of wings including an infirmary, emergency bedding, a fully functional kitchen with independent food storage, a feasting hall, a fully stocked armory, and an outdoor and indoor combat arena. A great statue of Sleipnir watched over the entry hall, which doubled as the mess hall for feasting, fighting, and preaching alike.
The Thestrals had become the equivalent of a special ops branch for Hammer Strike’s forces. As nocturnal creatures and hunters, they had the unique advantage of being able to perceive and counteract various threats that branched from the world of night. To aid them in this, Hammer Strike had forged special suits of armor and other weapons while also allowing certain delegates to join the guild as teachers to help future monster hunters learn of the dangers that dwelled in the night and how to combat them. What had once been a motley group of tents and roughshod villages had now developed into a series of lodges and other structures designed to house the warriors and grant them the ability to focus on their roots from the time before the corrupted Ursa had become the focal point of their worship.
There had been an attempt to create a shrine to Hammer Strike himself, after the sacrifices he had made for them, including moving the sun and moon on his own, but he had firmly denied those attempts. That didn’t stop the occasional cryer and zealot from preaching in the streets, however.
Clover’s school of magic evolved into a proper college, where many a student were encouraged to pursue new avenues of magical application. Strict laws were enacted to ensure that credit would go where it was due. Any Ponies that dared to break that law would find themselves ejected from the school and would have to pursue any further education on their own.
True to his word, Hurricane retired and was replaced by his son, who ushered in a new age for Ponies and Gryphons by accepting the application of the newest race to ever walk the earth or grace the skies, the Hippogriffs. Hammer Strike had named the new race himself, and with the birth came the blessings of Faust as abundance poured over all of the kingdom, making fields richer, mining more productive, and lowering the number of dark creatures that might otherwise seek a foothold.
In short, the kingdom had become, for all intents and purposes, one nation under Hammer Strike. Now, it was simply a matter of coming up with a proper name.
And fortunately, Hammer Strike already had that prepared.
Thus, Equestria was born. And so came the dawning of a new age.
The room was stuffy and hot as Hurricane lay on the infirmary bed. His body was propped up on a set of pillows, and he sighed as he looked over the room. This was not how he’d wanted to go. “At least open a window,” he grumbled.
“Can’t,” a voice answered. “Unfortunately, my job doesn’t allow for it.”
Hurricane rolled his eyes. “Another well-wisher come to coddle me?” he asked spitefully as he looked around the room, only to see no one there.
“Not quite,” the voice responded as a figure covered in a ragged cloak appeared at his bedside very close to the head.
“All right, so either you’re a new person in the kingdom or you’re something above the power of Binding’s contract magic. Which is it? I’m too old to care about niceties.”
“You should have figured that out by now.” Death sighed. “I’d think you’d be expecting me.”
“Not really. More expecting a last flight first, but I guess invalids can’t be choosers.” He raised his wings in a shrug. “You here to kill me, then? Or do you prefer harvest?”
“You’re not an invalid, Hurricane.” Death sighed. “You’re just old.”
“Equates to the same thing in the end, doesn’t it?”
“Only if you can’t appreciate what you’ve done.”
“You mean aside from being an arrogant colt that nearly drove his people to extinction?” He chuckled. “I’ve lived my life trying to make up for my mistakes. I just don’t know if that life was enough.”
“I imagine you’ll have time to find out.” Death sighed.
“That so? I thought Ainz said the dead move on to another place when they go.”
“He doesn’t know everything.” Death chuckled dryly. “Moving on requires you to allow yourself to do so.”
“So, if I want, I can stay here indefinitely?”
“Yes, but I wouldn't suggest it.”
A weak smile pulled at the Pegasus’ lips. His eyelids felt so heavy all of a sudden. “Do either of us have a choice?”
“Not really.” Death sighed. “Are you ready?”
“I think so.” He frowned as he laid back in his pillows. “Do you … do think they’ll be better than I was?”
“I’d answer that,” Death said as he summoned his scythe. “But I doubt you’d believe me.”
Hurricane chuckled. “I suppose I wouldn’t at that.” A hint of his teeth glinted in the daylight as a soft rattle carried out his throat. Death’s scythe hooked the breath and soon pulled the Pegasus’ spirit fully into the metaphysical plane. Hurricane looked down at his far younger projection and flexed his wings. “Now that’s loads better.” He turned to face Death. “Guess I’ll be seeing you again in the future. Come visit. We can play some chess.”
“I may.” Death chuckled. “Fare well, Hurricane.”
“A ghost can try.”
Hammer Strike placed a small stack of papers on the table before him. Nearby, Clover, Ainz, and Lord sat. “All right, I’ve been going over this mentally for the last week. With Hurricane passing and a new Commander in play, I believe I’ve determined a project worthy of being made.”
“What's the plan?” Clover asked.
“I’ve gathered a list of names and potential applicants for a unit that I believe would prove beneficial to Equestria. A unit dedicated to the study, understanding, and ability to deal with abnormal creatures. Vampires, werewolves, poltergeists, etcetera. While we have the knowledge and we have the capability of dealing with them, it isn’t always within the realm of our reach at a moment's notice. This would be a unit dedicated to dealing with such threats the moment they arrive.”
“So, like your adventurers’ guild, but more specific, more … hunters?” Ainz asked curiously.
“Precisely.” Hammer Strike nodded. “Adventurers take tasks and such that appear within their realm of possibility. This would be a unit dedicated to threats way beyond standard means.”
“It’s not unheard of. Most cultures have their socieities who attempt to cull such issues. The problem is, to my knowledge, no one has dedicated resources to supporting them.” Ainz nodded. “It would take time, but it is very possible.”
“The reason I called you three is I would appreciate the three of you compiling your knowledge of creatures for said team, or at the least be prepared to answer questions and potentially assist in training them.”
“Perhaps we could make a new bestiary?” Clover suggested. “With our combined knowledge, we could easily make one more detailed than current publications.”
“We’ll potentially need more than one.” Hammer Strike hummed. “I believe I can make something to help with that.”
“You’ll need a face for this,” Lord pointed out. “I doubt anyone will feel at ease without one.”
“Hence the list of applicants. The top seven on there would fill into that role well, in my personal opinion. It’s just a matter of selecting one now.”
“Are there any particular criteria you have in mind?” Ainz asked him.
“Besides the willingness part, I just need to ensure they’re of a strong body and mind.”
“We’ll work out our own requirements and add them to the list then.” Lord nodded. “How soon do you want this in effect?
“Take your time. I don’t want this rushed.”
“We’ll begin working on this right away, then.” Clover nodded. “Is there anything else you needed?”
“Not off the top of my head.” Hammer Strike shrugged. “Should anything else come up, I’ll bring it up.”
“Very well. Then we’ll get to work,” Ainz finished. And so the meeting parted, and each began their task.
The great red stallion sat at his desk and growled in frustration as he signed off on yet another form and rustled his mane as his race’s natural instincts to fly and act raged through him. His head thumped against his desk in a heavy sigh as he shuffled the next paper weakly onto the pile of finished documents. His ears twitched at the sound of the knock at his door, and he managed to groan out an, “Enter,” before drawing himself back up.
A Gryphoness clad in leather armor entered the office. “Don’t tell me the job’s breaking you already?” she asked as she approached and set a glass full of amber liquid on the desk in front of him.
“The job, no. The hours not being able to move, however, is another story. I swear, this has to be one of the worst battles I’ve ever fought, and I don’t even have a sword to fight with.” He chuckled and took a sip of the drink. “Thank you, Angelise. Now tell me, what brings you to my little dungeon?”
“A few things,” she said as she traced her talons gently through his mane. “Unfortunately, I have to make some of your issues worse.”
“Well, let’s get the formal stuff over with, then.” Storm Squall Hurricane stretched and groaned as he popped his neck. When he returned to a more formal position, all signs of levity and fatigue fell away from his face in favor of a serious mask. “Report, special agent.”
“Unrest in the empire.” She sighed. “Gryphons are dying of old age a lot sooner than usual, and it’s causing a lot of upheaval. There is likely to be a new emperor by month’s end, and there is already talk of invasion for glory.”
“Less than a generation, and they’re already contemplating breaking one of their gods’ most sacred edicts?”
“Gods they haven’t spoken to in decades.” She sighed again. “And after a war they never fought to what would be considered a proper end.”
“So, you’re suggesting as a means to unite them, this new emperor will propose a crusade in the vain hope of somehow either bringing your gods back or gaining significant resources and magic?”
“Or they can all gain enough glory to satisfy what they can no longer achieve. They don’t believe in another way.” She grinned as she leaned in and kissed him. “My parents were similarly misguided at one time, you know.”
Storm Squall sighed. “I guess that means Binding won’t be stopping with his contracts any time soon.” He smiled weakly and kissed the Gryphoness on the cheek. “Thanks for being so supportive of me. And so patient.”
“That's what love’s about.” She grinned. “Now, how about you finish up for the night and I steal you away before one of your other wives decides they want you tonight?”
Storm Squall smirked. “That is a tempting offer.” He pecked her on the cheek again. “Ten more papers?”
“Two more.” She raised an eyebrow.
“Three, and a kiss.” He flapped over his desk and laid one full on her beak. “That one was a freebie.”
“Two and a half and I’ll—” She leaned in, whispering slowly and carefully into his ears. When she’d pulled away, the commander of Unity’s army was redder than usual.
“Sold!” he squawked, then cleared his throat as he struggled to regain his composure. “Would you be willing to be my escort, fair lady?”
“Of course.” She gave him a smile. “Don’t keep me waiting.”
In those last few minutes of paperwork, the office learned just why Storm Squall bore the name of Hurricane.
The sun streamed easily into the Guildmaster’s office at the hall. Monster hunting and various other gigs had led to a steady source of income for the institution while allowing its members an opportunity to vent instinct or seek out adventure as wanderlust demanded. A fine checkerboard top hat sat on the corner of the desk as an older stallion with a bright yellow mane worked. A prominent scar traced from the bridge of his nose all the way down his left cheek. His suit coat and cravat were well worn by years of use. Of all the Ponies to assist in running a guild, Speedy Wagon was definitely the best qualified. Seated across from him, one of the many Gryphons who worked for the guild now stared patiently as he watched intently. Finally, after allowing his gaze to linger on the top hat, he returned his attention to the Gryphon and spoke.
“What we have to discuss is something that I must ask you to keep a secret, until such time as my interviews are completed. I hope you understand this, Bernard,” he said pointedly.
“Of course, guildmaster.” The Gryphon nodded.
“Good. I’m not one to mince words, so this will be fast. There’s word of aggression coming from your people’s empire, and indications of a possible invasion into our lands. While our lord is confident in the military and its capacity to deal with most threats, he’s asked me to start speaking with you all discreetly. If push comes to shove, would you be willing to offer your services to Hammer Strike and the military in the event of a Gryphon invasion?”
“Without question,” the Gryphon answered. “I have no ties to the empire. My duty is to Unity.”
“And you would have no qualms about possibly killing those of your own race, including potential relatives?”
“Those relatives didn’t protect my father when he was made clanless. And I’d consider those Gryphons my race in the barest of terms.”
“What role would you believe to be most ideal for you and your skillset, should you be recruited for such an endeavor?”
“Long range scout,” Bernard noted. “My vision and hearing give me an advantage, and Gryphons aren't likely to fire first if they see me. They’re more likely to mistake me for one of their scouts, instead.”
Speedwagon nodded and scrawled the answers on a sheet of parchment. “Your suggestion is noted. Thank you, Bernard.”
“Will that be all, guildmaster?”
“For now, yes. We’ll be in touch if anything changes. The usual means.”
“I’ll keep alert, then.” The Gryphon nodded as he got up and left.
Speedwagon stared at the sheaf of papers to his right and added the one he’d just filled to the stack. “Forty and still counting,” he muttered. “Hammer Strike’s not going to believe this.”
The simple storeroom Binding had first started out in had long since evolved over the years. A great orrery moved in the vaulted ceiling high above. Shelf after shelf of books, scrolls, and documents were neatly organized according to a unique system of his own devising. His greater focus hovered in stasis within a spell circle as Binding stared pensively at it. So deep was he in thought that he didn’t even notice the clop of Hammer Strike’s hooves as he entered.
“You said you had something to discuss, Binding?” Hammer Strike asked as he glanced over the room.
Binding’s head rose sharply at the voice. Then he relaxed. “Oh, Hammer Strike. Please, come closer.” He nodded. “It’s something I’ve been worried about for some time, but for the first time, I can’t seem to figure it out on my own. I find it … upsetting.”
Hammer Strike raised a brow as he drew near. “What seems to be the issue?”
“Frankly, with how closely you watch everything, I’m surprised you haven’t noticed.” He frowned and looked at the staff again.
“The lack of aging on yourself and close allies?”
“Yes.” He nodded. “So, you did notice, after all. What I’m looking for is understanding. What’s happening to me? Why aren’t I aging? By all the rules of magic, it shouldn’t be possible. Even an aging spell would leave me feeling the years as they pass, but I don’t.”
Hammer Strike gave a brief chuckle. “You’re a rare breed in these lands, to put it simply. There’s something deeply ingrained within your being that is causing this.”
“Something planted there?” he asked suspiciously.
“Technically yes, and no. It’s been with you since before your birth. Best way I learned to explain it is simply calling it a ‘Divine Seed.’” Hammer Strike smiled softly. “It manifests itself in many ways. Yours just happens to expand out to your close friends as well.”
“And what, exactly, is this seed’s purpose?”
“It depends on how you look at it.” Hammer Strike shrugged. “Whether you nurture it to the point where you could ascend or use its power to enhance your own. In your case, it keeps you from aging. And from what I can see, it reached out and is tethering itself to Wall and Swift.”
“So, we’re functionally immortal….” Binding frowned. “I’m … not certain how to feel about that.”
“Unaging, it’s quite an…” Hammer Strike frowned for a brief second. “Experience, I guess I could say.”
“One you’re familiar with?”
“To a point, yes. Though, as you’ve noted as well, I have a different way about it.” Hammer Strike gestured to himself.
“What will that mean for the three of us in the long run, then?”
“Well, besides stay alive, whatever you really choose to do. Whether you continue to work for me, or eventually change your path.”
“And this … latching you mentioned. Does it have a range?”
“Considering the nature of said ‘seed,’ probably farther than you can possibly reach.”
“So, I won’t have to worry about my friends suddenly turning to dust if we have to part ways for a time.” He nodded again. “Good to know. Though it begs the question. What prompted this ‘seed’ to start working in the first place?”
“Have you considered how much magic you’ve been channeling for Equestria since its founding? Those contracts don’t work off thin air.”
“The initial binding requires magic, but the continued sustaining of the contract doesn’t require a drag on my magic.” Binding shook his head. “If it did, I’d never have tried to change the system in the first place.”
“Still,” Hammer Strike commented flatly. “You’ve done tens of thousands of contracts. While it may not seem like it was a grand procedure to you of magic, it’s more than standard. That’s all it needs.”
“And that mention of ascension?”
“Either to a different form to handle the excess power you will wield, or literal ascension into divinity.” Hammer Strike shrugged. “I’d suggest neither.”
“Are you telling me that all the gods we know were once mortal?”
“Not quite. Some are made naturally. Others ascend.”
Binding was quiet for a time as he processed all that information. “Where did you learn all of this?” he finally asked.
“Through an interesting mix of study from here and somewhere drastically far off.”
Binding nodded. “I won’t bother you with more questions. I can tell this isn’t a subject you want to delve into.”
“To put it simply, yes. I’m … a long way from home.”
“Do you think we might have the chance to see this home of yours someday?”
“One day, perhaps.” Hammer Strike gave a gentle smile. “You’ll find the company interesting.”
“You do seem to have that effect on people.” Binding smirked. “Well, while I have you here, how about I treat you to some tea? We can go over the initial census results while we drink.”
Hammer Strike hummed for a moment, then nodded. “It’s been awhile. Sure.”
“I’ll get the kettle started.”
“I’ve done a lot of changes since you were last here,” Ainz told Hammer Strike as he led him through an entrance made from a familiar giant bear’s skull and into a corridor of dark stone lit with torches.
“So I can see.” Hammer Strike scanned around the area. “I know I authorized expansion, but I didn’t anticipate this much. No complaints, just observations,” he clarified.
“I’ve been able to contain it all within its own dimensional space,” Ainz assured him. “We are very nearly finished with the tenth floor now.”
“Ten floors?” Hammer Strike noted with some surprise. “All at this scale?” He gestured around them.
Ainz chuckled. “Some much larger.” He continued to lead Hammer Strike down the hall. “With the added help, I’ve had more options as of late.”
“It certainly seems that way.” Hammer Strike hummed. “Any notable additions I should be aware of beforehand?”
“Depends. What are your thoughts on a volcanic landscape with rivers of molten magma?”
“Curiosity certainly comes to mind.”
“Some of my aids have gotten a touch creative.” Ainz chuckled. “They’ve created floors with strange terrain themes, golems, and other unlife to guard important areas and other such changes to areas. We even have an arena.”
“You’ll have no end to the entertainment.” Hammer Strike chuckled. “Or, at the very least, no end to the creativity.”
“Well, we take those you send us, interrogate them, then get the best use out of them before they join us in unlife.”
“Certainly an unending workforce.”
“And an army that grows faster than it falls.” Ainz chuckled.
“Without a doubt.” Hammer Strike nodded. “You also mentioned meeting a few of these higher individuals you contracted?”
“Yes, the contracts worked as expected. Many of them returned to their sanity after signing them”
“Which ones in particular did you want me to meet?”
“That depends how much time you have.”
“I cleared the entirety of today for this, since I didn’t know what to expect, but gave a rough estimate towards it being big.”
“We have forty-one people for you to meet.”
Hammer Strike blinked a few times. “Well, that’s more than I anticipated.”
“So glad I could surprise you.”
Celestia smiled as she tended to the little chick in her study. The young phoenix had only hatched a little over a week ago, and it was already strong enough to start flapping its wings and hop around. The first few days had been trying as she carefully ground up various pieces of meat and worms into a mush the hatchling could digest more easily. Now that the gestation period had passed for the development of the chick’s digestive tract, the phoenix could eat small portions of various foods as Celestia helped it to develop its strength.
“I still need to give you a name, too, don’t I, little one?” she asked as she levitated three more small chunks of flesh to the chick.
The chick peeped its hunger and appreciation as she gave it one piece at a time, then ran its beak through her mane.
Celestia smiled. “I love you, too.”
“Just wait till you have to teach it how to fly.”
“Her, Yharon,” Celestia noted calmly. “I see you’ve been working on that silencing modification to mother’s teleportation spell.”
Yharon chuckled as he approached. “Don’t you mean you heard?”
Celestia smirked. “Fair enough. The light is going to be the other problem.”
“That part of the formula is going to take a lot longer,” Yharon agreed. “I think it has to do with the nature of magic itself. As a tool, it almost seems to want to leave a visible trace of its use.”
“I’m sure you’ll figure it out,” Celestia said supportively. “So, did you want to come say hello to your adopted niece?”
“You’re going to make a phoenix your daughter?”
“Part of the family, Yharon.” She rolled her eyes.
“Just so long as you don’t end up misplacing affection.”
“Yharon, I know I’ve been through heartbreak recently, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to fall to pieces or have some psychotic break. Besides. Look at her. She’s adorable.”
“You won’t mind if I still keep an eye on you all the same, will you?”
Celestia rolled her eyes. “So long as you don’t get intrusive about it, I suppose I won’t mind. We are family, after all, and I can’t say I wouldn’t do the same for you if I were concerned for your welfare.”
“Speaking of which, that’s something else I wanted to talk about with you. The Unicorns are being stupid again, well, at least the nobles are.”
“How so?”
“They want to venerate you as a goddess.”
“They want to WHAT?”
Yharon suddenly found himself pinned against the side of the wall by the force of Celestia’s shout. “That’s … new,” he groaned, then gradually slid to the floor.
“Yharon!” The mare raced to her brother’s side and quickly administered some healing magic, then helped him to sit up.
“What was that?” Yharon finally asked.
“I … don’t know,” Celestia admitted.
“You’re telling Mother and Father about this,” Yharon said.
Celestia raised a hoof to object, but the glare he leveled against her silenced her. Her shoulders and wings slumped in defeat. “All right.”
“Good. We should probably get Luna, too, just in case. If you’re developing new and strange abilities, then she probably is, too. And I’m going to guess it has something to do with your bonds to the sun and moon.”
“Because?”
“Because I grew up most of my life with you two. The odds of you two suddenly and spontaneously having this manifest as a part of your original magical makeup are vastly less than remote.”
Celestia sighed. “Fine. But at least let me finish feeding the chick before I go.”
“Still looking for a name?”
Celestia sighed. “Yes.”
“We can ask Father if he has any ideas when we see him.”
Celestia nodded as the fragments of food levitated again in her magic and floated toward the chick. “Though I already have a pretty good idea what he’s going to say.”
Yharon chuckled. “You and I both. But we’re still doing it.”
Luna’s workshop rang with the steady tempo of hammer on metal as the lunar Alicorn worked. Since taming the moon and her growth, she’d noticed her armor had become ill fitting and awkward. With war possibly on the horizon, she dedicated herself to making a set of plate mail more fitting for her. Lunar steel and ebony had been carefully combined to form a sturdy purple metal that seemed to maintain an almost metaphysical quality, able to easily switch between physical states with Luna's own body and resonating and amplifying her magic significantly.
She’d already created a set of armored boots that connected to horseshoes. High pointed guards sprouted up to protect her legs right up to the first joint. She’d also created a plated peytral that looped around her neck with ease, covering her chest in a wide plate with her mark inscribed upon it.
She was currently working on the helmet. The piece was simplistic in nature, a rounded plate shaped to guard her skull and come down in a tapered nose guard around the front of her face between the eyes. She’d bored a hole for her horn and was carefully working the joints in the neck guard, so they would allow movement without biting into her neck. Luna imbued each piece with magic as she worked to enhance their properties and make them come when called to her.
Had she looked into the metal, she might have realized the sinister element to it, the dark gleam on the purple finish, the way it seemed to avoid the brighter light, or the single cyan slitted eye that stared back at her every now and then when she wasn’t looking.
The air filled with the smell of sweet sugary confections and the sizzle of meat searing on the pan as Yharon directed the various measuring tools, pans, and flames with all the skill of a seasoned maestro. His wings glowed as he hummed to himself and occasionally sampled the food to ensure it was properly seasoned.
He smiled as he ignited the alcohol over some of his vegetables to create a proper flambe. He may not have had the wanderlust, like his siblings, but that had left more than enough time to broaden his horizons in other areas, like the world of cooking. Glaze spread in a fine blanket that gradually wrapped itself around a large hock of ham before the two were levitated into the oven in a pan and left to baste and cook.
“And that should take care of that,” he mused.
“Hooey! Something smells good.” The kitchen window swung open to reveal Wall’s familiar smile.
“That would be tonight’s dinner for Mother and Father. It’s their anniversary, you know.”
“Yeah, I know.” Wall shrugged. “The gang’s been working their tails off to get the right gift for them.” He stuck his nose a little farther in. “Do you … mind if I maybe try some of that?”
“... I suppose one small bite couldn’t hurt. But why the sudden interest?”
Wall shuddered. “It’s Binding’s turn to cook this week. Everything he makes literally tastes like tree bark. It can be perfectly executed down to the last grain of salt or sugar and the result would be the exact same. It’s torture.”
“Have you told him?”
“He already knows. Even went and did an experiment on it.”
“And you still have him cook?”
“You underestimate the power of laziness.”
A sweatdrop formed on the side of Yharon’s head as he levitated a small bite to the waiting Pony’s mouth. “I might have known.”
Stars appeared in Wall’s eyes as he savored the sample and milked it for all it was worth.
“You know, you could just order out when it’s Binding’s turn. It’s not like you don’t have enough saved up.”
“And let him get by without having to clean the dishes? Not a chance!”
“Then it seems to me you’re at an impasse.”
Wall sighed. “Yeah, I know.”
“So, were you here for any particular reason or were you just drawn by the smell of my cooking?”
“A little of both. The Thestral tribes wanted to send a gift of their own, too. I’m supposed to let your parents know when to expect it.”
“They’re sleeping in today.”
“Sleep?” Wall asked sceptically.
“Use your imagination, Wall. Honestly. You’re older than me.”
“Ohhhhh…”
“Exactly. You can wait in the living room, if you’d like. But I get the feeling if I let you stay here, I’m not going to have a proper meal ready for them.”
“That’s cruel!”
“Fair, though,” Yharon added coolly.
Wall frowned, and his lips wobbled as his stomach growled. “Just one more sample?”
Yharon rolled his eyes.
The attack happened in the year of Hammer Strike’s Patience, June 15, 3045 PDE. An army of a hundred and fifty Gryphons bearing the empire’s colors appeared on the horizon. They offered no terms, save total surrender and sixty minutes to respond. When no response was forthcoming, they charged the walls of New Unity. The attack was neither long nor successful as the attacking force was brought down nearly to the last warrior in a hail of arrows. One Gryphon made it out, and their own scouts claimed he’d delivered his report to a sizable war camp a little over five miles out from Unity’s borders.
“I think it’s safe to say this was simply to feel us out,” Ainz said afterward as the inner circle sat at their table. “And possibly a message that they could send so many to their deaths without issue.”
“A waste.” Hammer Strike sighed. “I swear, if it isn’t one thing, it’s another.”
“Well, given how prominent we’ve become as a nation, it was only a matter of time before someone was going to come along to test us,” Binding noted. “This time, we have the upper hand.”
“It's a little more complicated than that.” An older Gryphon sat nearby Hammer Strike, having been requested into this meeting to add what they knew to their intel. “This isn’t a fight for territory or resources.”
“It’s for glory.” Hammer Strike frowned.
“In other words, Hammer Strike’s reputation has grown to the point where they believe taking him down and claiming his lands will make them legends?” Binding asked.
“Once again, I don’t think you understand.” The Gryphon sighed. “They don’t need to succeed to achieve glory. This is the army that beat the Pegasi almost without losses. Your leader was the last person to see the Children of Faust alive. To die at the hands of a worthy foe still is a way of achieving glory.”
“So, there’s nothing we can do to convince them to stop or deter them?”
Hammer Strike shook his head. “It’s unlikely. The only way would be a grand display to instill some fear, but that isn’t something easily done, and isn’t going to guarantee anything.”
“Then what do we do? These aren’t the Unicorn nobility.”
“Fight.” Hammer Strike sighed again. “On and on, until they cease their aggressions. It won’t be short.”
“Perhaps I could simply overwhelm them?” Ainz offered.
“Perhaps thinning them out a bit would work, but as many as you have, I have doubts to how long they’ll last.”
“Still, no blood would be spilled on our end.” Ainz shrugged.
“For the beginning.” Hammer Strike frowned. “I’m not disapproving the idea, but we need to keep an eye on numbers and progress for them, and eventually prepare our units to move in.”
“All of the tribes are ready and able to serve, Hammer Strike,” Storm Squall said.
“Have everyone prepared, but keep movement to a minimum until Ainz’s units are at a low count.”
“Are we planning on nocturnal attacks as well?”
“Definitely.” Hammer Strike nodded. “We’ll need to go full assault for the Gryphon Empire. They’ll come at us to the last.”
“Then should I also alert Tarefson?”
“Keep him informed, yes.”
“I’d suggest passing around the heavy shields,” Lord noted. “From my understanding, all Gryphons are archers by nature.”
“And damn strong ones,” Squall agreed. “We should see about building more wards around Unity as well. Though if they do attack, at least they’ll be earthbound. That’s a form of warfare that should cause them some trouble.”
“They’re not Pegasi,” the old Gryphon said. “Sometimes you can’t just fly up to the enemy.”
“I grew up with Gryphons, Old One.” He nodded respectfully to the Gryphon. “I am aware that they know how to fight on the ground. However, by limiting them to battle on the ground, it does give us a greater advantage, especially if we can keep up a proper ward against projectiles while we’re at it.”
“Just be ready. It’s still going to be costly.”
“Given your extensive knowledge of your peoples’ tactics, would you be willing to advise us on viable strategies?”
“My people are here.” The Gryphon growled. “What are attacking us are a bunch of decadent unenlightened fools. My people will do our part for Unity.” He looked to Hammer Strike. “You can trust us, my lord.”
“I know.” Hammer Strike gave a smile. “I trust and appreciate each and every one of you, whether you fight in the battles to come or not.”
“Thank you, my lord. I know your trust is a commodity. It’s one we won’t waste.”
“I know you won’t.” Hammer Strike nodded. “I’ll have to look into preparations. Some new null fields. Though, that may take some time.”
“I’ll help you with that,” Clover added. “Perhaps together we can cut the time needed down.”
“Would certainly be a positive.” Hammer Strike nodded as he thought it over. “I’ll need to ask for a few Gryphon volunteers to get a general read of their field and energy to adapt it to those not a part of Equestria.”
“You’ll have them, Lord,” the old Gryphon answered immediately.
“Anything else that needs to be addressed?” Hammer Strike asked the room.
“The Diamond Dogs, definitely,” Binding said. “If these Gryphons are remotely as strategic as our own, then we’ll need to ensure the mining tunnels aren’t exploited.”
“Definitely.” Hammer Strike frowned. “Ainz, direct some protection into the tunnels after this meeting. Our opponents are bound to be highly aggressive towards them, and…” His frown deepened. “They’re doubtlessly going to be more hostile toward the descendants of Gryphons and Ponies.”
Ainz nodded. “I’ll have some flesh golems and gargantua posted in the tunnels.”
“How should we address the remainder of the kingdom? The Gryphons will likely come here, yes, but won’t Gryphons trying to build up their reputation want to take out some of the other settlements before they attack Unity directly?” Squall asked.
“We increase the guard across the kingdom. Alert level beta, at least. The populace will know what is going on and be prepared. But until the action draws near them, they’ll be on mid-guard. Those closer to the Gryphon Empire or branches separated from it will have the alert level raised higher.”
“There is one more issue,” the older Gryphon said.
“Go on.”
“What about the airship fleet?”
Hammer Strike couldn’t help but grin. “Now that Is something I prepared for on the side.”
In the far off settlement of Sunny Vale, work carried on as usual. Crops had begun to grow at a rapid pace, and with the Unicorns’ help, means had been devised to hasten the crops’ yield and efficiency without impacting the land too heavily. The stone walls brought to bear by the Earth Pony, Gryphon, and Hippogriff craftsmen left a firm and unyielding structure that would take a heavy beating before it could be knocked down. Within the walls, the community thrived. Pegasi worked to ensure the sun shone comfortably on the denizens below while others in the guard tended to the streets and defenses.
The first warning came in the form of a cloudless thunderclap. A few moments later, a gust blew over the walls. Shortly after, Three specks appeared on the horizon and approached rapidly. Light glinted off the surface, followed by blinding light and deafening thunder. Civilians screamed as electricity arced through the air above.
Within the hold of the flagship, Commander Raiker sneered at the sight. The advanced technology at their disposal had once again granted a sound foothold over their opponents. With the scare tactics demoralizing the populace, it would be a simple matter to take out the rest of the city while its guards sought to restore order. It was hardly worth the effort, but it would surely suffice for an appetizer in the main course that awaited.
The radar pinged as it scanned over the city’s walls and the residents within. Many appeared to be scrambling. “It would appear our prey’s outer ring is not nearly so well defended,” he mused as he stroked his beak. “A war of attrition appears to be the most logical route.” He turned to face the bridge’s crew. “Are the troops ready to mobilize?”
“Ready and waiting,” the aid replied with a salute.
“Open the comms to the other ships.”
“They’re ready and waiting, Sir.”
Raiker nodded. “Attention, troops! This is Commander Raiker speaking. Our first probe into these equines yielded a firm resolve for combat and solid plans for strategy. Our purpose here is to test the outer fringes of this new kingdom for weaknesses. We’ve sowed chaos among the citizens below. Now we move in for true combat. We will fight not only for the sake of empire, not only for conquest, but for the glory of what may turn out to be the greatest struggle we have faced since the Children of Faust’s disappearance. We fight, that we may hold our heads high when we face our ancestors and fly with them among the winds. We fight to leave a legacy that our descendants will remember and venerate for generations. We fight—”
What was, no doubt, to become an incredibly glorious and motivating speech was swiftly cut short by two blazing balls of iron wreathed in a brown miasma that streaked like comets into the two accompanying vessels. Raiker had all of a second to watch the ball pierce the hull of the ship, followed by complete immolation as a critical core breach consumed the vessel and burst it into fragments.
“What th—” He had less than a second to see the projectile hurtling toward the bridge before he and the whole crew were obliterated in the third explosion. The air reeked of ozone and fried chicken as the remains of the ships careened into the forest floor below, demolishing whole swaths of trees and fields.
Hammer Strike looked over the remnants of the airships from his place on the city wall. After ensuring there were no survivors, he nodded to himself before calling out to the units controlling the city's cannons. “Perfect hit!”
“That's their biggest advantage down in one shot,” Lord commented.
“Good.” Hammer Strike nodded. “I’ll have to work with Clover to develop more of those augments for the cannons. While having three per city will work, I’d prefer more firepower to ensure utmost safety.”
“For all the Alicorns had, the Gryphon airship technology is second to no one’s. I think even two to a city would be a very strong message.”
“I want to ensure they won’t be able to gain any ground.” Hammer Strike frowned. “I won’t let them take a single city from me.”
“I take it you want me to tell Tarefson to go for a walk tonight when they make camp?”
“The longest walk he needs,” Hammer Strike confirmed.
“I’ve never seen you this out for blood.” Lord laughed. “It’s entertaining.”
“I despise war.” Hammer Strike frowned. “And after so much of it since the beginning of Equestria, I find myself wanting it dealt with more and more efficiently. If I need to blow every airship they have out of the sky and return them to the ground, I will do it, if it means ending this sooner.”
“You misunderstand,” Lord said. “They turned their gaze upon your friends and your family. This isn’t about war. You wish to send a message and carve your name into the annals of their history to make them think twice about trying such an attack. Many mortals go to war for such shallow desires. Money, land, fame. It is rare to find a mortal whose bloodthirst only rises when his own are threatened.”
Hammer Strike hummed in thought. “I suppose so. My actions do lean towards that, yes.”
“The worst and cruelest of crimes can be committed by one seeking nothing more then to protect those close to him. Do remember that.”
“That, I do know.” Hammer Strike sighed. “That, I do know…. Lord, investigate the next city over. Ensure they’re prepared, would you?”
Lord nodded. “I’ll do that.” And then he was gone.
Storm Squall Hurricane looked over the parchment on his desk with a stern expression. His jaw clenched in outrage as he glanced over the lines. Not only did the Gryphons have the gaul to claim they were only just declaring war now, but they dragged all the Equines through the mud with baseless claims of inferiority, despite how easily the Gryphons had been bested earlier on.
“Two options,” he murmured. “Let them come and keep thrashing them or attempt to strike them in their own territory in retaliation. Both have possibilities, but the latter is likely the more dangerous. Thus far, we’ve had no casualties, but that could easily change, should we press into Gryphon territory.”
“War is bloody,” a familiar voice reminded him as his wife sauntered up next to him. “Even with Hammer Strike, you can’t conceivably expect to never suffer a casualty.”
“It’s something no one deserves to have to endure.” He sighed. “But I suppose you’re right.” Then he smirked. “You have an annoying habit of doing that, you know.”
“Stop being wrong, and I won't have to.” She grinned at him.
“I suppose I should show this to Caracticus to get his input on potential future attacks, now that the empire has officially committed to this war.”
“Probably. You’ll need to get the numbers set up and ready to march as soon as you can.”
“I’ll need to coordinate with the other members of the war council as well. Ainz said he had a means we might be able to use to summon some of his undead in the event of an emergency. That will be useful if a retreat is required.” He rubbed his chin with a wing and frowned as he began scrawling on a piece of parchment. When he’d finished running some rough estimates, he dropped the quill from his mouth. “This won’t be an easy task, will it?”
“No, it won’t.” She sighed. “But I know you’ll rise to it.”
“Just don’t say it’s because I’m a Hurricane.” He smiled wryly. “Grandfather always said we build our own legacies.”
“I say it because you’re my husband and I know the type of stallion you are. You will prove you’re every bit the warrior he was.”
“I don’t know. I still haven’t been able to conquer you just yet.” He smirked and kissed her cheek. “But enough delay. It’s time to discuss mobilization.” He swiped the papers and approached the Gryphoness, then gave her a wing hug and nuzzled her gently. “I’ll see you and the family tonight.”
“I’ll have some news for you then.” She grinned and turned to leave. “Fare well, love.”
Storm Squall smiled as he followed behind. “With an angel like you watching over me? Always.”
The march had been long and weary, but the forces of Unity had taken to it with a smile. The battlefield had already been outlined and agreed upon with the enemy, and where they would camp had been planned out. At some point, one soldier had started singing a marching song, and a strange phenomenon began to spread. Music seemed to play from no discernable source, but to the perfect rhyme and tempo of the song. The soldiers beside him quickly found themselves taking up the tune, even though half of them had never heard it before. The words and verses flowed to them easily. Within moments, the entire army sang loudly and happily as they marched.
It had been a surprise to Storm Squall when they’d arrived at the designated camp location several hours ahead of schedule. The camp had been set up in a short time as well as the army of Unity sang. The last tent peg was being hammered and the last fortifications set in place as the song finally came to a close. Supplies were deposited in the depot, senteries were set up, and scouts were deployed. Faster than he’d have thought possible, Commander Storm Squall found himself at the map in the command tent, surrounded by his separate lieutenants and generals, all talking about possible strategies.
Strange though the event was, to make a fuss over it now would profit no one, especially if it was merely coincidence. He resolved to wait patiently and observe to confirm whether this strange occurrence would recur, and instead focused on the task at hand or hoof as the case may be.
“All right. We’ve come far today, and the mares and colts are in good spirits. Let’s try to keep it that way as long as possible.”
“I say we attack tonight,” Capped Fang, the general representative for the Thestrals, said. “They’ll expect us to give them a formal declaration of intent before we attack. That gives us an element of surprise. If we raid their camp tonight, we could damage their fortifications, burn their supplies, take hostages. It would start us off ahead of things and weaken our enemy.”
“A solid plan,” Storm Squall agreed. “Tell me, Capped Fang, how many Thestrals are encamped in the area?”
“We have fifteen hundred with us,” Capped Fang said. “All ready to go at a moment’s notice. But we could possibly levy the local clans, if need be.”
“And they’ve been made aware of the Gryphons’ intent to do us harm? I don’t want them to be taken off guard if the Gryphons decide to employ the same tactics you’ve suggested.”
“They are prepared, but it is not a major risk. The Gryphons don’t consider them worth their time.”
“That may change in the coming days.” Storm Squall frowned as he looked over the map. “And what about defenders? Have the mages finished planting the mines and other surprises Ainz devised?”
“My men are overseeing the process now,” Sigurd Drakenfeller, son of Lord Drakenfeller of the line of Drakenfeller nodded grimly. His black mane flowed easily down his back as he perused the map. “The advantage of a surprise attack will prove beneficial, but I find it doubtful that our opponents will trade for hostages easily. Not unless the ones we take are of significant enough rank. Based on what Caracticus told us, they would consider it of greater honor to die in custody than allow themselves to be used as leverage. Is that not so, Miss Starling?”
The Gryphoness’ dark feathers glistened in the light, and the gold accents were occasionally illuminated with a flash of green when the light hit the black at the right angles. Her body was that of a lean jaguar to carry the spotted pattern of her feathers through. “It is true.” She nodded. “I doubt they would have fallen so far as to abandon that part of their natures yet.”
“Perhaps we should devise a means to bait them after the initial strike.” Clarice the Hippogriff stroked her chin in thought. “If they’re really so proud and elitist, seeing a group of half-breeds like us may bolster their pride, and best case scenario, enrage them into making a mistake.”
“And do we have our aerial troops standing by? I don’t need storm cannons striking us from the sky while we’re dealing with the braggarts on the ground,” Storm Squall noted.
“We have several cloud platforms being formed as we speak,” one Pegasus spoke up. “We’re already working on patrols.”
“Good. We want this to be a thorough campaign. The sooner we decimate this force, the better. If they want glory, we’ll give them more than they can stomach. You have permission to proceed, Capped Fang, but I want those Thestral camps ready to go to ground the moment the operation is over. Once the Gryphons find out who’s responsible, they’ll take glory in vengeance as much as they do in battle, and these are soldiers that are just as skilled in the hunt.”
“I’ll spread the word and get my people ready.” The mare grinned and nodded. The onyx-capped fang that was her namesake gleamed darkly.
“As for the rest of you, make sure the troops are ready to mobilize if necessary. Keep watch in rolling shifts. And our troops will sleep in their armor tonight. I trust our Thestral units, but I prefer to be ready for any outcome.”
There was a murmur of acknowledgement.
“Very well, then. You know your assignments. Let’s get to work. Dismissed.”
The Gryphon war camp was only lightly guarded in the dead of night as the troops slept in preparation for the fighting of the next day. Gryphon vision was keen, able to see far distances in the dead of night, but it was not flawless. Ill prepared for the stealth tactics of the Thestrals, the sentries never heard anything as they guarded their areas. The moonless night aided the Ponies as they struck in rapid succession, killing the sentries without setting off the alarms. Then they swarmed silently into the camp.
The Viper Tribe made their way to the food stores immediately. Poisons and toxins of different varieties were sown into the food supply in ways that wouldn’t be noticed.
The Dragon and the Lion had brought casks of oil, which they emptied among the tents as quietly as possible, spreading the accelerant as far and swiftly as they could.
The Wolf went about their grizzly task with efficiency, entering tent after tent in rapid succession. They slit throats with quick practiced movements. Gryphons’ eyes opened wide only to close again forever as their lifeblood stained their bedrolls.
The entire operation took just over half an hour as Fox Tribe members stole whatever documents they could, not bothering to read the contents and merely stuffing parchment into their sacks.
As Thestrals flooded out of the raided Gryphon war camp, one member of the Dragon Clan turned and grabbed a lit torch from a nearby stand. As the last Thestral left, he threw it into a prominent patch of oil and disappeared into the night. The fire spread quickly until the night seemed as bright and vivid as day. Heat radiated out in all directions. Soon shouts and screams were heard as the survivors moved to try and save what they could.
Capped Fang snickered as the thestrals took flight well outside the camp. “And so be it to he who endangers the lands of Unity.”
“Job well done, Capped Fang,” Storm Squall praised. “You and your fellow soldiers are to be commended. The invading force knows we mean business now, and the intel you brought us has given us a better idea of stronghold locations and some of the enemy’s movements.”
“First step in a long road, Sir,” Capped Fang said with a salute.
“Modest and observant. The best combination,” Storm Squall praised. “And you’re right. We are only just starting. It’s time to consider our next move to present to Lord Hammer Strike. We haven’t ventured into Gryphon territory before, so we’ll be relying heavily on any intelligence you or the other clans can provide.”
“Gryphons may in fact be even more war-centered than we are,” she admitted. “They start training as soon as their cubs can walk, and continue on for their entire lives. From what we’ve seen, they tend to favor axes and heavier weaponry.”
“Don’t forget about our proficiency with ranged weaponry,” Starling added. “We’re trained with the bow before we ever train with other weapons. And you already know how devastating storm cannons can be.”
Storm Squall nodded gravely. “Lord Hammer Strike has promised means to counter those when the time comes to face them. We’ll need to make it through unfamiliar territory first, though.”
“We do have a few advantages, Sir,” Capped Fang noted. “For one thing, only one in three hundred has active access to magic.”
“And how, exactly, do they access this magic?”
Starling cleared her throat. “Your Unicorns use foci to hone their magic, but do not require them to utilize it. Each of you can use a form of magic that is unique to your kind alone. Gryphons do not have this attribute. In order to use magic, we utilize a process called evocation. It requires a unique type of focus that draws out the magic from within the body specified around a particular element or enchantment. Not so complex or sophisticated as your spell matrices, but a club can be just as effective as a sword in battle, if one knows how to use it properly.”
“And these magic users. How many might we expect to go against?”
Starling shrugged. “The majority of them are put through training in unique facilities and deployed as necessary by the emperor. If there are any on this continent, they’ll likely remain in the larger bases close to royalty, unless otherwise ordered.”
“Good. That means we’ll be able to whittle down their forces and force a surrender.” The commander frowned. “All the same, we should prepare countermeasures, just in case. Do you know of what types of magic these evokers might be able to use?”
Starling shook her head. “I only know of the basic elemental magics from the old tales. Most of the time, evokers used their craft to maintain balance in the empire and help keep dark forces at bay, not unlike the shadows your hunters must deal with here. They probably do have other arts, but what they may be, I don’t know.”
“Then we’ll simply have to keep alert. Is it possible to create a means to detect when an evoker is near or about to use magic?”
Sigurd shook his head. “When we use magic, it’s drawn from Equis as well as from our own internal reserves. There’s a shift in the magic in the air or land that can be picked up. But based on what Starling has described, the art of evocation relies completely on the latter of the two I mentioned. That’s not going to be traceable unless the spell is exceptionally powerful or you’re at close range. There would be no practical use for such a method.”
“I see.” Storm Squall nodded. “I’ll bring this up to Hammer Strike all the same. He may wish to devise a means of his own, just in case. What’s the status report on translating those documents?”
“My Hippogriffs are hard at work as we speak,” Clarice said. “It shouldn’t take long for us to finish transcribing into Ponish.”
“Excellent. As soon as they finish, I want copies delivered to me and Hammer Strike.”
Clarice nodded. “It shall be done.”
“Anything else to report?” The command tent remained silent, and Storm Squall nodded. “All right, then. We’ll reconvene once we have a better idea of the Gryphons’ plans. Till then, you’re all dismissed.”
Hammer Strike hummed to himself as he looked over a peculiar device. He had been in his makeshift workshop for the last two days working on a countermeasure against the storm cannons on the Gryphon Airships. He had an idea of it before, but it had been so long since he had to think about it. He had to start from scratch.
Using several relays and elemental attunements, he had found a way to thaumically disperse any attacks, but it was a matter of expanding the radius in which it could work.
He ignored any movement around himself as he worked. Clover had appeared from time to time, checking up on progress before getting back to work, herself.
The tent flap rose, and Storm Squall strode in without preamble. His lord already knew the sound of his stride, and had made a point of insisting no one knock or otherwise announce themselves. “How goes the project?” he asked.
“Well,” Hammer Strike continued to thaumically attach new relays. “Dealing with the scale portion, and it will be complete for city-wide protection.”
“How long until a mobile version can be crafted?”
“It’s pretty much ready for that.” Hammer Strike gestured to a spare at his side. “Variant one, roughly half a mile in radius for protection.”
Storm Squall nodded. “I’ve also been notified of another potential threat. Granted, one we won’t have to worry about immediately, but one that will need to be planned for in the future. The Gryphons have magic users of their own called—”
“Evokers. Yes,” Hammer Strike replied as he stopped his work. “I had Clover already start the process of adapting our Null fields for their magics.”
“Without even a sample of them?” Storm Squall gaped. “You really are incredible.”
“I’ve encountered it beforehand, so I have a generalized read of the signature. Beyond that, I’ve had her studying and adapting for any overall changes, since my encounter was … quite some time before.”
“Not to be rude, but just how old are you to have knowledge of so much and experienced so many encounters?”
“As of now, I believe I am…” Hammer Strike’s brows furrowed. “Six hundred years old? Rough estimate. I honestly stopped tracking.”
“That … would explain a lot,” Storm Squall conceded. “Did you want me to arrange a deployment for the other field generators to be delivered when you finish making them?”
“Affirmative.”
“I’ll send word down the supply caravan.”
“Hopefully, I should have these done within the next two to three days,” Hammer Strike commented before sighing. “I need to get back out there.”
“That’s why everyone fights for you, Sir. Did you have an ETA you wanted me to give the troops?”
“Not at this moment. Come back in six hours and I’ll have one.”
Storm Squall nodded. “I’m guessing you didn’t get the chance to read the info we snagged from the enemy. Did you want a debriefing now or later?”
“Now. I can split my focus.”
The Pegasus pulled a sheaf of papers from a saddlebag at his side. “All right. Then let’s get started.”
Vital Spark whistled. “Dang. You guys really are like ninjas, aren’t you?” he asked Pensword as the image on the monitor faded away.
“Yeah, but I saw at least two techniques that were lost to the mists of time,” he replied as he wrote out on a pad of paper. “With what little we saw, I may be able to rekindle a little of that old tribal magic.”
“I assume you mean the martial kind?”
“Yes, what else would I mean?” Pensword replied in confusion.
“You did say magic, and we do live in a magic-driven society, Pensword,” Vital noted. “Figured I’d just check to be sure I understood right.” He shrugged. “Regardless, it looks like things are definitely going to be heating up in the near future. What do you think will come next, Grif?”
“Blood.” Grif sighed. “Even with Hammer Strike’s tactics, this is still going to be a very bloody conflict.”
“I shudder at what the war will be with the tech they have. What they had in the third was still bloody. This can be much worse,” Pensword agreed.
“In some ways, yes,” Grif agreed. “In other ways, not so bad.”
“Too bad they can’t just talk things out.” Vital frowned. “I’m curious, Grif. Does it always have to be valor in combat? Is there no other way to gain prestige that will satisfy the instinct your culture has?”
“There are other ways, but you’re thinking too rationally.” Grif sighed. “What would you do, if you thought you’d die tomorrow?”
“Probably spend time with my family and try to make the most of the time I have left.”
“Well, these Gryphons decided to grab as much glory as they could,” Grif said.
“When they still have hundreds of years?”
“They don’t know that.” Grif shrugged. “For all they know, they could wither and die tomorrow.”
Vital Spark frowned. “I suppose that makes a certain amount of sense if they attribute their long life to their gods. The loss of them would lead to a certain amount of uncertainty in that regard, wouldn’t it?”
“As well as Gryphons starting to age and die much earlier than normal,” Grif said. “At this time, Gryphons could live a thousand years easily. That’s a lot of time to lose.”
Vital sighed. “I may understand it, but I still think it’s such a waste.”
“War always is,” The Doctor said. “But not everyone believes that.” He frowned. “In a lot of ways, your species reminds me of the Sontarans, Grif.”
“It’s not an unfitting comparison.” Grif sighed. “It’s one I'm trying to improve, at least.”
“And you’re doing a great job,” Vital said.
“Definitely,” Rarity agreed. “Darling, you’ve brought the Gryphons in New Unity farther along the path than anyone before you, barring perhaps Grask and my Strikey Wikey.”
The Doctor winced. “Must you call him that?”
Derpy smirked. “Be nice, Doctor, or I’ll tell them what I call you when we’re alone.”
Every hair on The Doctor’s mane and fur stood on end. “Yes, dear,” he squawked.
Vital raised a quizzical brow. “That embarrassing?”
Derpy giggled. “That’s for me to know. We’ll see whether you find out.” Then she winked.
Twilight gaped. “Do all girls know how to do that to their mates?”
Rarity smiled. “Well, of course, darling. How else do you expect us to be able to wrap them around our hooves?” She smirked. “You’ll understand when you find your stallion. Don’t worry.”
“From military tactics to mate tactics. I’m not sure which is more frightening,” Vital muttered to his friends.
“Well, I mean, Trixie’s no tactician, so you should be safe.” Grif laughed.
Vital chuckled. “Yeah, I wouldn’t quite go that far. Her tactic is directness and flirtation.” He smiled. “I’m just lucky that’s the kind of tactic I like. How about you two? Anything your wives like to pull with you?”
“If mine need me to do something, they’ll ask.” Grif shrugged. “If I do something that gets them angry, they’ll let me know. Our culture’s much more direct than yours.”
“Don’t they still tease you, though?”
“Of course. And I tease them. That’s marriage.” Grif laughed.
Pensword chuckled. “And Thestrals. It is both one and the same at times. Though I’m not the best tease,” he admitted. “I am getting better, though.”
Vital smirked. “I’m sure Fox Feather has plenty of pranks for you, too, on the side.”
“No…. That honor belongs to Moon River.”
“Who do you think taught her?”
“Everypony, including Grif.”
“I am contractually obligated to be a bad influence,” Grif noted.
“As godfather?” Vital guessed.
“Godfather, uncle, all that stuff comes with obligations.” Grif smirked. “I’m sure Pensword realized the mistake he made the day I gave her that crossbow.”
“I don’t know. He seemed pretty proud to me.”
“Why would I view that as a mistake? Maybe if I was still human, but I’ve become fully Thestral. It’s important that she learns weapons use,” Pensword agreed.
“And the fact she dyed your mane pink last week?” Grif asked
“Pinkie Pie is the one I blame.” Pensword shuddered. “Though didn’t she paint your feathers in white chalk while you slept outside two weeks ago?”
“No, that was Gustave. He’s got similar coloring. She won’t go after me. I bribed her,” Grif said proudly.
“Ah. Still, what happens when she and your daughters gang up on you? It will happen eventually, you know.”
“It’ll keep me on my toes.” Grif shrugged. “Honestly, it’s Tazeer I’m more worried about. His mother’s the genius.”
Pensword quirked a wing. “Oh? What type? Artistic, military, verbal?”
“Pretty sure if Avalon set her mind to it, she could create a spell that would be the most poetically inspired and visually beautiful method of death ever recorded,” Grif said seriously.
“And then she’d be sung in songs by both Gryphons and Thestrals.”
“And it’s her and my offspring that Vital has to deal with.” Grif looked to the Unicorn. “Good luck.”
Vital shrugged. “We’ll take it as it comes. Hopefully, the South Wind will be with me.”
“But as for the girls, to be honest, I’ll be shocked if I’m not called to the school within the first month, because they’ve been fighting,” Grif noted.
“They seem pretty playful for now,” Vital repled. “Then again, they may be more devious than the CMC, and use their cuteness as a weapon.”
Grif, Derpy, and The Doctor exchanged glances before bursting out laughing. Pensword joined in a moment later.
Vital rolled his eyes. “Okay, fine. CMC sans Dinky. Happy now?”
“Well, what do you know?” Grif chuckled. “He can be taught.”
Celestia casually levitated the enemy bishop off of Yharon’s side of the chess board and placed her queen there. Meanwhile, the sounds of hard-pitched battle raged as Luna crowed at the top of her lungs, causing the buildings surrounding the training yard to shake. The concentrated fire of the many Unicorns on the ground below was child’s play for the Pony as she weaved or blocked with equal skill.
“She’s certainly having a lot of fun up there, isn’t she?” Yharon asked.
“She needed the vent,” Celestia said. “Father is out there fighting with all the rest of the troops, and here we are, stuck here because of the assets we’ve become.”
Yharon shifted a knight within easy jumping distance toward the queen. “You two did plan for this, though, or at least you should have. You’re the only ones capable of moving sun and moon on your own. That makes you the VIPs.”
Celestia sighed. “At least Luna’s found a way to contribute without feeling quite so helpless.”
Luna growled as she locked her weapon with an ethereal blade, shattering it with a push of effort.
“And she’s doing a fine job of it, too,” Yharon noted idly. “Though if I’m not mistaken, you’re feeling a little restless yourself, sister.” He fixed her with glowing orbs. “What have you been doing?”
Celestia sighed again. “How is it that you’re the one who reads us so easily? I thought little brothers were supposed to be the ones who got advice from the big sisters.”
Yharon smiled. “Even little brothers can offer wisdom from time to time. And being the Dragon who pushed all your buttons growing up, I have a certain advantage with your tells.”
Celestia chuckled. “I’m just glad you didn’t try to steal from everyone. According to most researchers, that’s apparently a phase every Dragon goes through at one point or another in their lifecycle.”
“Yes, Father told me about that when I was young.” He frowned. “I resolved not to let those hoarding tendencies get out of control. Binding was most helpful in that regard.”
“You had him forge a contract for you?”
“Just until I made it past my puberty,” Yharon promised. “But now you’re dodging my question, Celestia. We were talking about you. So, I’ll ask you again. What will you do to contribute? I’d rather not witness another meltdown.”
“Didn’t we promise never to speak of that incident again?” Celestia asked casually as she maneuvered a rook down the board.
“There’s enough justification to bring it up. Philomena won’t occupy your time forever, and frankly, you’re going to stifle her growth if you’re not careful.”
“Then what else am I supposed to do? You said it yourself. If I don’t do something, I’ll be the one to put the crazy in stir crazy.”
“You could always try teaching.” He shrugged and swiped one of Celestia’s pawns. “You sure spend enough time with the foals to be one.”
“Yharon, I’m hardly qualified to—”
“You know more than any other Pony in the whole kingdom, save perhaps Mother and Father. And you’re older than most of them, too. If you have the experience and the talent, use it.” He shrugged. “At the very least, you can teach history. After all, you were here when Father claimed the land for himself at the beginning. Start there, then move on.” He seized her queen after her bishop shifted.
Celestia sighed and tipped over her king. “I suppose I can at least try.”
Yharon smiled. “That’s the spirit.” Then the smile turned somewhat vicious. “Shall we join our sister in her lesson?”
Celestia chuckled and shook her head. “I suppose, if we must.”
“Race you up there.”
“You’re on.”
The first battle with any serious casualties happened a week into the march. A rain of arrows flew with intense speed and accuracy, shattering the more basic wards and draining a significant charge on the others as heads engraved with runes and imbued with magic easily pierced throat and hide. The most vital points had been protected by their armor, but it was clear by the amount of blood and the groans of pain that many affected would need time to heal before they could rejoin the fray.
Countermeasures were immediately employed, and Pegasi and Hippogriffs alike were in hot pursuit of their adversaries. At Storm Squall’s insistence, the Gryphon troops remained with the main camp to avoid being identified by the enemy. If they were to pull off an infiltration later, they would need to make sure their faces remained unknown.
Flyers were sent down the supply lines to ensure none of the Ponies there had been attacked or supplies otherwise raided. When all was accounted for, a meeting of the command was called.
“We expected the retaliation to come eventually,” Sigurd noted.
“What I would like to know is how badly we were affected. How many troops will need to be sent home and how many can we treat here?” Storm Squall asked.
“We took first blood, but they did manage to take some of ours. Thus far, the death count is at ten. Tallies are still being taken. Of those who were wounded, the majority will be able to recover in the caravan as we travel. Only a small handful will need to be sent back to Unity for proper treatment.”
“Urgency for arrival in Unity?”
Sigurd shook his head. “Thus far, minimal.”
“I need an exact number for each of them. If any cases are urgent enough, Hammer Strike will want to get them back to Unity as soon as possible.” He turned his attention toward Capped Fang. “How much farther to that first fortress?”
“Maybe a day out, if we keep pace,” Capped fang said. “But I doubt we’ll be able to. We’ll need to make sure we have double patrols after this. We can’t afford them sneaking up on us.”
“Agreed. We’ll need to send out more scouts and widen patrols. Given the fact we’ve broken their traditions, it’s likely they won’t hesitate to do the same, so we can’t rely on the information we have for their usual means of observation. I want to have a glamour over this camp to ensure they don’t get the opportunity to do this again. If they want to try to catch us, they’re going to have to guess where we are first. Same for the supply chain. I want mages deployed with every group to hide them and their tracks.”
“I’ll send word,” Sigurd promised. “In the meantime, we may have to spread out what mages we have here to make up the difference until those reinforcements can make it up the caravan and deploy.”
“Perhaps we should ask Lady Clover about reinforcing our wards?” Capped Fang suggested.
“It certainly appears we may need to,” Storm Squall agreed. “Sigurd, what did your analysis of the arrowheads yield?”
“Any magic in them was already spent, for the most part. The characters are being transcribed as we speak for translation, though my assumption would be they’re likely an incantation or a series of runes designed to strengthen and empower the arrow.”
“In that case, we should expect the possibility of at least one of these evokers in or around the area. The other possibility is that they have a production facility where they work to manufacture these heads. Capped Fang, if it’s possible, I’d like for some of your warriors to make inquiries in the surrounding tribes. I know you probably know this already, but have them be as discreet as possible. If we can neutralize the enemy’s enchanted equipment, it will give us a significant advantage in the campaign.”
“I'll look into that immediately. Perhaps in the meantime, it might be beneficial to ask the cleric of Sleipnir? Faith magic tends to be the strongest type, doesn’t it?”
“Now that blood has been drawn on both sides, it certainly would be appropriate. I’ll send word back to the capital with the request. Does the council have anything else of note to report?”
The remainder of the gathering shook their heads.
“Then your orders stand. Go to your assignments and return to tending the fallen. Have the mages re-cast the wards and offer as much reinforcement as they can without exhausting themselves. We’ll mourn the dead after this campaign is ended. Dismissed.”
Storm Squall held his mask firmly in place until he had the pavilion to himself. A swift beat of his wings closed the flaps to grant him privacy, and he planted both hooves on one of the tables as he sighed tiredly and his wings drooped. “First blood is always the hardest.” He shook his head. “Grandfather, wherever you are, lend me some of your strength.” He shook his head. “I fear this will only be the first of many losses to come.”
In the shadows that divided the realm of spirits from the land of the living, Hurricane watched his grandson and sighed. “I’m afraid you’re right, Storm Squall. I’m afraid you’re right.”
A week later, and Storm Squall’s words were beginning to hold true. There had been several more attacks. And while the wards had held for the most part, the Gryphons seemed determined to crush them under the weight of their numbers. Attack forces were becoming larger and larger with every repeated wave, and losses were beginning to show. Storm squall seemed to be filling out more forms for bodies to be sent home almost daily now.
And two days ago, worse things had made themselves apparent. It seemed the emperor had gone as far as to send several evokers to support the press. Magic clashed with magic in destructive waves, and damage was felt by both sides. But as of yet, their mages had failed to kill or identify a single evoker. Every day meant more blood. Every victory came at the cost of more soldiers. The morale was still high, but it would only last for so long.
Disturbingly enough, he’d recently found out some of his soldiers had requested to be brought back as undead, should they fall, in order to keep on with their duty. Ainz had refused all to date, but as even his undead troops suffered losses, the addition of willing undead became harder and harder to turn down.
“Pity we can’t capture their emperor,” he mused as he traced over maps and other information. “Then we could bring this whole ordeal to a proper end.” He shook his head. At the rate this campaign was advancing, it was obvious they would have to entrench themselves properly in each significant patch of land claimed. Not only would this make counterattacks more difficult for the enemy, but it would hopefully help cut down the cost on lives. “The question is, can we afford it?” he mused. He would have to run the numbers past Hammer Strike and the war council when next they met. “Sleipnir preserve us,” he muttered tiredly as he rubbed the bridge of his nose. He barely stifled a yawn, and the oil lamp burned low as his eyes drooped.
Much though he hated to admit it, it was time to call it a night. A commander was no good to his troops if he couldn’t stay alert. He doused the lamp and strode to his bedroll. Hopefully, he would be able to gain more perspective from a good night’s sleep. As always, he prayed to Faust and Sleipnir before bed to deliver his soldiers from danger and grant them the peace they fought for as quickly as possible. Then he took his rest.
The army found itself marching on the foothills toward the mountains. Deep ups and downs made marches harder, and thus meant having to make more stops. The army quickly became fatigued from the near-constant effort. Things had been looking bad for many days, and then the worst happened.
The rolling foothills naturally caused uneven land and unpredictable developments. As such, the Gryphon encampment somehow fell through the cracks in their scouting. The Gryphons themselves were tired, and thus their own scouts seemed to have likewise missed the approach. Somehow, the two groups met, one almost walking over the other.
The following confusion was a bloody mess as warriors grabbed what they could and fought. Weapons swung everywhere, and soldiers on both sides died. By the time order could be restored, huge losses had already mounted.
Thanks to the forts Clover and Hammer Strike devised, they only just managed to pull the victory among all the confusion as Gryphons began to flee the situation.
Storm Squall groaned as he returned to his tent. Blood spattered his hooves and armor, some Pony, some Gryphon. He and the troops had been the spear in this assault, but now that they had delved so deep into Gryphon territory, the head was losing its edge. Winter was coming, and the cold air mixed with the mountains. The snow that was bound to come would only harry future attempts. Pegasi, Gryphons, and Hippogriffs would have no difficulty continuing. They were designed for high altitudes and inclement weather. But the Unicorns and Earth Ponies would have far more difficulty traversing the paths. This battle had been lucky for them, allowing the enemy to be caught unawares. The mountains would provide no such mercy.
“I’m not sure how much longer we can keep this up,” he muttered.
“That was bad,” Clover agreed as she wandered in, taking a seat nearby.
“And it will only be worse in the mountains. It’s ideal territory for the Gryphons to hit us, then hide again. The odds are turning against us for now.”
“Anything living in the mountains we could attempt to ally with?”
“Not that we’re aware of. Most of the people who dwell there are Gryphons. Some clanless, some not. We could try to forge an alliance with some of the clanless, assuming there are any still residing out there, but the odds are slim, and they would probably be well hidden to evade the notice of the Gryphons from the kingdom.”
Clover looked at the maps. “Where are we headed?”
“The next point of interest is a mountain keep the Gryphons established. It’s going to be one of the toughest legs of the campaign in conditions that are far from friendly for our mages and ground troops. Gryphons have a knack for stonework. I wouldn’t be surprised if the range is riddled with tunnels and other means for the Gryphons to attack from and seal at will.”
Clover summoned a book and began comparing it to the map curiously. She began sticking pins in several points amongst it.
“There’s our answer,” she said.
“And that is…?”
“Potential allies. If the stories are to be believed, Kirin have hidden villages in these two mountains,” she said, indicating two pins. “And the various Bison tribes generally move through these territories as they require.” She indicated the rest.
“If we’re to have successful negotiations, we’ll need Ponies versed in diplomacy who are quick to adapt to different cultural backgrounds. And since Gryphons are meant to be the common enemy, that eliminates Hippogriffs and Gryphons.” He frowned. “I’ll speak with the rest of command about potential candidates. Thank you, Clover.”
“Send Drakenfeller to the Bison,” Clover suggested. “I think he’s most likely to get their respect.”
“And do you have any recommendations for the Kirin?”
“You can’t expect me to give you everything, Storm Squall.”
The Pegasus chuckled. “Of course not. I’ll let you know when we’ve prepared the delegations.”
While it had taken time to meet with the various Buffalo herds, it didn’t take long to earn their support. The Gryphons had made efforts to demonstrate their dominance in the form of multiple raids on the bovids. The Kirin were also willing to contribute after the imbalance the attacks from the Gryphons had caused in nature. Some homes had been destroyed, and were it not for the powerful magics they wielded, the damage would have been far worse. As it stood, many bore a certain malice toward the Gryphons for their arrogance in the attack, and when the delegation had explained the intent of the Gryphons to attack all Pony races under Hammer Strike’s banner, they readily agreed to help in exchange for his aid in restoring their lands to a fullness of health.
The Gryphon compound was an immense structure with four great walls and a tower at each corner. The inner portions of the structure were filled with a series of barracks and storehouses. The battlements were mounted with a number of ballistae and other siege weaponry designed to deal devastating blows to invading forces. And, much like any other work of stone and earth, the predators had also constructed an internal base beneath the walls with the specific intent of protecting themselves and travelling through the bitter cold of the mountains undetected.
The first signs of attack came in the form of several bright glowing trails of flame seemingly lighting up the sky suddenly. Each burned with extreme intensity as they arced through the night sky carving paths of angry orange through it and the sensitive catlike vision of the Gryphons themselves. Each had been strategically aimed, targeting ballistae and catapults with surprising precision. The burning bales of hay impacted the stone of the battlements, bouncing and rolling, smashing anyone and anything that got before it. When the bindings burned away, a far more fearsome sight revealed itself as each held three or four beings like demons from myth. Black flames licked at their bodies but left them unburned as white glowing eyes looked out onto the enemy. The Niriks poured out onto the battlements like angry living pyres, setting fire to all they contacted and sowing chaos among the enemy ranks.
As forces moved to answer the chaos above, the land below darkened in their vision in order to adjust to the ever growing intensity of firelight. No one could make out the two long columns of Bison charging toward the fortress. Locked between them in a hastily made harness was a massive tree. It had been grown using combined magic amongst the troops, carefully cleaned of branches, and fire-hardened with a strong rounded front. The Bison barreled forward with everything they had. Centuries of stampede instinct allowed them to run in almost perfect synch while carrying the massive weight.
Normally, it would take a large group of Earth Ponies over an hour of constant repeated hits to cave in a gate. The Bisons collided with the portal at great speed and with such power that the structure let out a loud crack and came free with only a single blow. By the time the Gryphons were recollecting themselves to push against the Niriks on the battlements, new confusion was born as Hammer Strike’s army poured through the gate. Spellfire, arrows, and the ring of weapon on weapon filled the air as the forces joined sides in a bloody conflict. Any who had the moment to observe would note the force was missing its lord, who famously pushed at the head of the force. But fortunately, the confusion kept attention elsewhere.
Hammer Strike watched as the Diamond Dogs in front of him ran their claws along the smooth stone bricks, they were a fair distance underground, the fruit of the Diamond Dogs’ labors quite obvious as the wall was bathed in the fiery light of more than four score Niriks and Unicorns waiting to engage.
“Gryphon stonework,” a pitbull commented as he looked the wall over. “It’s impressive, made to last to time and the elements. Fortunately.” His claws latched inwards as he encountered an uneven brick. “They aren't the greatest with foundations.” He dug his claws in and pulled. With a groan, the brick moved free. In rapid succession, the bricks were removed until a fair sized opening revealed what appeared to be a large underground store room. All eyes turned to Hammer Strike, awaiting his word.
“Take claim of resources while I ensure your safety,” Hammer Strike ordered.
With a nod of acknowledgement, the Unicorns and Diamond Dogs gathered crates and kegs and anything else they could, then moved them down the tunnel. In less than ten minutes, the storehouse was empty. Above, the fighting could be heard as the Gryphons were pushed backward and inward.
The wrath of the Niriks was a force to behold as the scores of troops continued their advance. With the journey into the tunnels, the invaders were forced to diminish their flames, but they progressed, regardless. One of the commanding officers stood at the end of the hall and prepared a volley of arrows to strike at the advancing party. Most of them were reduced to ash after piercing a barrier projected by the Unicorns that accompanied the Niriks. When a significant number of the invaders had filled the corridor, the commanding officer grinned.
“Farewell.” He pulled a stone from the side of the wall as one of the soldiers fired a volley at ropes wrapped around the beams. Rock trembled, earth sifted, and then the whole weight of the ceiling collapsed with a mighty roar. When the dust finally settled, the warriors cheered at the pile of dirt and rubble. The commander turned to address his soldiers. “Gentlemen, we’ve earned our reprieve. Well done.”
The cheers were cut short when a thick green tendril shot out of the rubble. In less than a second, the thing had wrapped itself around the warrior’s throat and twisted violently. The bird head jerked at an unhealthy angle looking back to the rubble heap as the Gryphon’s body fell to the ground. Stone exploded as a flood of root and vine flung the stones at the other end of the hall. Those who weren’t fast enough to get out of the way were crushed. Those who managed to escape the impromptu hail were met by a swarm as the vines divided in an attempt to snare those who remained. Meanwhile, those same glowing white eyes peered out of the dust as strong hooves clopped over the floor.
“You took from nature. Now nature will claim her payment.”
It was impossible to tell what was battle cry and what was fear, but what was certain to the raiding party was the fact that they should be grateful not to be on the receiving end of the Niriks’ wrath.
Tunnel after tunnel became flooded with the vines, reinforcing the structural integrity and preventing the collapsing traps from being triggered. Hidden alcoves were covered by thicker tendrils, and the air was filled with pollen as exotic blossoms bloomed and sprayed at the fleeing troops. Battle cries were soon replaced with shrieks of terror. Leaf masks were tied around each of the Ponies’ faces to filter the effects as they advanced. Those that did escape, if any could, would be too mad to remember, let alone deliver a message to other forces.
Deep in the heart of the underground compound, the military leaders gathered around a large table projecting the various branches of the tunnels in the network. One by one, sections flickered and then disappeared entirely from the map.
“They’re disrupting key structures from above and then reinforcing from below with their magics. It’s a miracle the supports haven’t been burnt to cinders,” one of the commanders said.
“As it stands, our surveillance equipment won’t last forever, and the more ground these creatures gain, the less chance we’ll have to send warning of their advances.” The second commander turned to their leader. “Sir, we have to get word out now and collapse what tunnels we can. Otherwise, the enemy will be able to stride right through one of their biggest obstacles with hardly any resistance.”
“So, this is where you’ve all been hiding,” Hammer Strike commented as the shadows pulled off the walls to give him form.
The reaction from the warriors was swift as the three Gryphons lunged with talons and beaks flashing. The intruder would be dealt with swiftly before any reinforcements could arrive.
Moving quickly, Hammer Strike ducked under their lunge and delivered three hard punches to the sides of their heads. It wasn’t enough to kill them, but the force would be sufficient to remove consciousness. The three landed out cold on the ground after a few rotations in the air.
“Different from what I was expecting.” Hammer Strike hummed to himself. “I suppose it doesn’t matter in the end.”
The first thing to register in Commander Skarl’s body was the strange rustling goosebumps triggered by an intense cold. Then came the throbbing, like a sledgehammer beating against his head. The room seemed almost to spin as he opened his eyes and let out a soft groan. The darkness of the chamber was nigh-absolute, save for a small pool of light that was cast by a pale orb that hovered near his head. Any attempts to move were quickly halted by the chains and fetters that had been tied to his wrists and ankles.
“Ah, finally awake, are you, darling? You know, Lord Ainz had to dedicate some very precious resources to make sure you wouldn’t die from a bruised brain.” The voice that burbled from the shadows was deep and carried a heavy effeminate tone.
“Lord … Ainz?” Skarl asked, confused.
“Oh, yes. I had very specific orders to make sure you were well cared for.”
“In chains?”
“To keep you properly supported as you recovered. We also had a restraint on your heads to ensure they couldn’t move, so we could operate on any bleeding that may have pooled inside. Fortunately, that proved unnecessary, but you never know with that Hammer Strike.”
“Then … you are his enemy?”
The clink of metal carried from the darkness. “You might call me a neutral party. No, I have only one mission here, now that you’ve returned to consciousness.” The abomination that stepped forward was bipedal and heavily bloated with slimy gray skin and tentacles that stretched from either side of its lips and a bun stalk tied at the back of its head. Its eyes were uneven, its face covered in rouge and mascara. Long spindly fingers were extended by sharp polished nails dyed a shiny red. “I’m to ply you for information.” The thing chortled as it approached. “You and I are going to develop a very intimate relationship, commander. Oh, the fun we’ll have, the secrets we’ll share.” It licked its lips as it sidled closer, bearing a slim instrument with a curiously shaped head with hardened lumps. “I can hardly wait.”
Skarl glared at the creature, repulsed, but not willing to give the thing any sort of satisfaction. “Do your worst.”
The answering smile was far more unsettling. “I do so love when they play hard to get.”
The first of many screams soon began to wail through the chamber doors and into the dungeon corridors. In time, they would swell into a harmonic trio under the abomination’s careful ministration.
The war council chambers of Unity flickered ominously as the torchlight bobbed, casting shadows over the gathered faces and providing ghoulish or grim expressions where faces were meant to be neutral. Ainz, Hammer Strike, Clover, Binding, Lord, Storm Squall, and even Tarefson were present. The hour was late, but the summons had been urgent, and everyone knew better than to question such a summons from Ainz of all people.
“I have news,” Ainz said, once they were all present and prepared.
“So we gathered,” Storm Squall said. “What did the prisoners have to say?”
“A lot, but more to the point.” Ainz straightened up. “Apparently, their resources are beginning to strain, as an unexpected problem has come up.”
“A potential ally?”
“No, it seems the Gryphons have had to quarantine their largest city, due to an outbreak of plague within its walls. They were banking on said city to produce and store the bulk of their resources.”
“Relying on just one city?” Storm Squall shook his head in disbelief. “Would anyone really be so foolish?”
“It’s to my understanding they move their supplies through airships,” Ainz noted. “Such docks are not easily made or maintained.”
“Then how do they drop the supplies in the first place? I doubt they can air deliver every crate.”
“How great of spies do you think undead to be?” Ainz asked him.
“I would assume not very.”
Ainz looked to Hammer Strike. “I’ve given the information I was able to gain, as well as the conjecture I can, but what's left to do with this information is up to you.”
“While an attack on their resource center would have been a good idea, the quarantine puts that at a high risk.” Hammer Strike hummed. “We could attempt to wear their resources thin, steal what we can, shoot down what we can’t. Assaulting them from multiple angles would also spread them apart, making more lines to work with for us.”
“My one concern there is stretching our own forces too thin in the act,” Storm Squall said. “If we want to accomplish the feat, we’ll likely need some resource to neutralize their ships’ ability to fly. That would force them to have to use real troops to bring their supplies.”
“For starters,” Ainz said, “I could take my horde and the vampire and press their lines farther out.” He pressed a bony finger to a spot on the map. “Force them to separate even farther.”
“Good chance of success.” Hammer Strike frowned as he thought it over. “That’ll work. As for dealing with the airships’ flight, while I could make something to disrupt the rods, the range would be next to nothing, resulting in the need to plant it practically on it.”
“Which would require a constant number of attacks with potentially heavy losses.” Storm Squall frowned. “Then a battle of attrition it is.”
“Maybe not,” Clover said. “What would the size and shape of this disruptor be?”
Hammer Strike hummed for a moment as he ran through it in his head. “Flat, square shape, roughly two inches in depth. Several attachment points along the side for gripping onto terrain or objects.”
“How sturdy could you make it?”
“Unsure, potentially of the same strength as a standard blade from one of our smiths in town.”
“Strong enough to survive heavy impact?”
“Nothing too crazy.”
“What about a protective shell?”
“It would be short-term to keep it small.”
“I could super accelerate it with magic, probably teach the spell to the other unicorns. We could shoot them at the ships from the ground.”
“Can we prevent the Gryphons from intercepting or identifying them as we fire or will we need cover fire and illusions to help mask our strategy?” Storm Squall asked.
“Tell me.” Clover lifted a fair sized pebble in her magic and slowly began to rotate it in front of her as several magic circles formed in a circle around it. The pebble continued to increase its speed until it gave off a constant high pitched hum. Wisps of magical power flashed hither and thither as it did so. Upon reaching some threshold known only to Clover, the magic circles flared and the pebble sped off. So hasty was its launch that it appeared almost to have vanished. A search and direction from Clover soon revealed it had embedded itself into the metal of a shield on the other end of the room. The shield didn’t even warp. There was simply a hole within it. “Could any living thing intercept that speed?”
Storm Squall shook his head silently. “Remind me never to get on your bad side, Clover.”
“Would have thought your grandfather told you enough stories to make that ill-advised.”
“It never hurts to ask for a friendly reminder now and then.” He smiled wanly. “Thank you, Clover. This spell will help save a lot of lives.”
“That depends on Hammer Strike,” Clover noted. “Can you work with that, dear?”
“I … think I can make it work.” He nodded.
“Then we have a plan.”
It was fortunate that the base had been mostly left intact. A quick repair to the gates and sweeping away the debris from the hay bales left the location immaculate. The walls were carefully constructed, and any remaining papers or supplies had already been emptied and transferred in the event things went wrong with the test. For all intents and purposes, the base was still intact. They’d even gone so far as to staff the lower halls with Gryphons in the event that the ships had the technology to scan the lower floors for life signs.
“You're going to have to rename the fort,” Clover told Hammer Strike. “Before they start calling it Fort Strike or something.”
Hammer Strike smirked in response. “Nah, I’d sooner name it Fort Clover before I let them do that.”
Before Clover could respond, Hammer Strike could already hear the name spreading among the rank and file as they moved about around them. Clover shot him a tepid glare.
“Really?”
“Oh, don’t you worry.” Hammer Strike chuckled. “This fort doesn’t exist anymore in the future. Though, I don’t know the reason behind that.” He glanced over to her.
“Well then, if I burn it down when this is over, no one should really care.” Clover humphed. “I’ll get you back for this, though.”
“I know you will.” Hammer Strike looked out from their position.
The clouds above roiled and churned as they gradually began to part, revealing a long dark mass of metal. The rig was a curious mix of a freight hauling airplane and an aircraft carrier made to fly. Its shadow cast a broad swath over the base as it gradually lowered itself into view. A broad open surface was bedecked with ballistae and thunder cannons. The control tower rose above the surface with reinforced viewing windows to allow its occupants to gauge the situation of combat and flight directly. Gryphons patrolled the top and glided around the sides as an escort and an advance party, should the need arise.
“You ready to try this?” Clover asked Hammer Strike.
“Thirty seconds till we’re in red territory. Let it loose.”
Clover picked up the device. It was flat with spikes coming out at odd angles to grip a surface. Small cylinders protruded from each side, each projecting a low energy magic shield over the device. Clover examined the wiring and circuitry for a few moments. Her travels with The Doctor had given her a basic understanding of these things. Carefully, she raised her head so her horn pointed toward the ship. The device rose to line up with her horn. Magic circles burst into existence at all angles around the device as it began to rotate, rapidly picking up speed until it gave off a low humming like a rope swinging rapidly. In an instant, Clover's eyes flashed, and the device was gone, covering the space between them and the ship in a matter of milliseconds. The shield collided with the ship first, eating the impact before shattering. The location of the implant was so high up with such thin air that the small shriek of the spikes sinking into the metal was left unheard.
For a minute, nothing seemed to happen. Then the ship dipped, slowly at first, but speed began to pick up as the front was pulled toward the ground. A few Gryphons abandoned ship, but most of the crew never had a chance as it hit the ground and loud thumps and muted explosions could be heard as systems went up until gray and black smoke started billowing out to fill the air. The metal in some areas began to heat rapidly and melt to slag.
Hammer Strike hummed as he observed the scene. “Augments listed a perfect fifty-fifty. I was honestly betting on the explosion, though.”
“It seems the more sensitive systems did explode.” Clover shrugged. “It just wasn’t enough to break through the armor.”
“It appears to have been more superheating due to the release of energy,” Hammer Strike returned. “Expansion from heat causes parts to disengage from their sections, disrupts the system, and falls apart. In some cases, literally.”
“Spell seems to work as a delivery system. The shield did its job perfectly,” Clover noted.
“Just wish they weren’t such a pain to make.” Hammer Strike hummed. “Small parts and hooves don’t mix well. Thaumically, I can manage it still, but … you get what I mean.”
“Well,” Clover said as her horn lit and she pulled. With a more vocal shirek, the device tore away and sped back to them. “They seem to be reusable.”
“We’ll just have to remake those shields, then.” Hammer Strike looked it over. “And any potential damage from heat or explosions.”
“Well, we have a large supply of spare metal and parts after the throat-cutters are done,” Clover said, looking at the mostly intact ship. “I doubt it will fly again. Spoils of war?”
Hammer Strike hummed for a moment as he looked at the ship. “I … could make it work. It wouldn’t use their fuel rods, but I might be able to make it work off our magics.”
“Maybe, but mana batteries aren't entirely reliable. It probably would take a hundred mana-infused gems to run this for a day.”
“Come now. I made you my student for a reason. You’ve got a means to think far outside that box.” Hammer Strike smirked.
“A means that pertains to me and you and with whatever god’s blessings will keep it that way,” Clover retorted. “Anyway, from what knowledge you’ve given me, there are very few things that could power it for long as is.”
“That’s why you program it differently,” Hammer Strike noted. “Don’t make a battery that stores a large amount and disperses it over the course of time. Instead, make a battery that naturally fills itself off the mana field of the planet at as close as you can to the rate of drain.”
“That could work,” Clover conceded. “You do the practical, I work out the runic pathways? Gryphon runes are always so … uneconomical, all style and no function.”
“That’ll work.” He nodded. “I don’t know the efficiency of the battery I can make just yet, but we’ll look for a range of at least three hours with weapons usage.”
“A mobile cargo troller that doesn’t need high magic constantly to function, essentially.”
“It certainly would prove useful, though I feel as though I’m skipping over some advancements in doing so, … like trains.”
“Trains?” Clover asked.
“I…” Hammer Strike frowned. “Wait, you’ve been to the future with The Doctor, seen spacefaring vehicles, and you never saw a train?”
“The Doctor’s mentioned the concept, but never explained it,” Clover admitted.
“Basically….” Hammer Strike hummed. “It’s a land-based vehicle, and it runs on rails that are premade and lined up into tracks. You create a line from point A to B to whatever else. They work well enough, given our current situation, but take quite a bit of work to establish and make. Takes less work than making an airship from scratch, but not as effective as actually building the airship.”
“So, something for when we’re not at war?”
“Potentially, though we’ll have to look into some manufacturing processes, update some things throughout Equestria.”
Storm Squall bowed his head in gratitude to the tall elegant lead mare from the herd of Kirin. In many ways, her build reminded him of Lord Hammer Strike. The dark green scales glistened on her nose and back as she peered at the stallion.
“Thank you for everything, Bright Blaze. Your assistance in taking out the Gryphons was invaluable.”
“It is our pleasure. Many of our race once were bred for war. It is not entirely unfeasible to consider how naturally those instincts can return when roused. Now that we have reclaimed what was stolen, we are mollified.”
“And what will you do now? The Gryphons aren’t likely to forget this any time soon.”
“They know nothing of our involvement, since we killed those who could have made such a report. So far as I am aware, our people are safe. If these Gryphons seek to do harm to our home again, then we will rise again to defend it.”
“And will we be allowed to retain relations?”
“That depends much on your leader. He is … different. Much of what he is is against what nature intended. Yet he does not use this against nature itself. It warrants observation. Perhaps, in time, we will decide to allow relations between our peoples. For now, however, I believe we will keep it to a minimum.” She smiled forlornly. “Many of our kind still sleep, and their waking may yet bring more of the war we all despise, unless it is carefully controlled. If your new civilization advances enough, there may yet be a chance at peace. However, until then, my tribe must keep their vigil over the sleepers.”
“Is there a way we can contact you in the event anything should change?”
Bright Blaze smiled knowingly. “That lies within your king’s power. Though he may despise the title, it suits him well.” Greenery began to spread from her hooves as the ground beneath her glowed green. “It seems the time for us to depart has come.” She bowed her head to Storm Squall. “Gods be with you, child of the storm. And if ever you find yourself in need, turn to nature. She will aid you, if you only let her.” A swath of broad green leaves grew from beneath the mare and began to rise. “Farewell.” The leaves closed into a bud, then shrank into the ground once more. The growth was gone in a flash, leaving a shimmering pollen that hovered in the space it had once occupied.
Storm Squall frowned. “Well, at least they’re not against us,” he muttered as he turned toward the wreckage from the Gryphon supply ship. There was still a lot of work to be done.
Hammer Strike hummed to himself as he continued shifting and clearing the debris of the fuel rod canister. He had a prototype of the battery already made. Now it was just a matter of putting it in place and hooking everything back up.
“How goes the relays over there?” He questioned off to the side.
“I think I've just about got the ones for this area done,” Clover said, her horn glowing as symbols moved rapidly around her.
“All right, once I’ve got this in place, you’ll just need to connect them to the side paneling.” He hummed to himself, shifting the new battery into place and placing rivets down. “Afterwards, flip the switch and it should start letting power flow.”
“This went by much faster than I expected,” clover said.
“Technically not the first battery I’ve ever made.” He shrugged. “And replacing relays shouldn’t be too difficult.”
“It’s not the difficulty, it’s more the length,” Clover noted.
“Fair enough, I suppose. After we’re done, we’ll have to look into—” Hammer Strike paused mid sentence as an alert ran through his augments. On the outside, Clover was able to note the light of his eyes shifting red for a split second. “That’s…” He frowned as he started looking through the alert.
“What's wrong?” Clover frowned. This kind of behavior was highly unusual for him.
His brows furrowed as he continued reading. After a moment, his expression shifted from frustration to anger. “That can’t be. No, I refuse to believe it.” He stood from his spot and started to move towards the power room’s exit.
“Hammer Strike, what’s wrong?” Clover said a bit louder as she followed him.
He paused in his tracks and turned to his wife. “I … received a distress signal. From the Forward Operating Crystalline Facility, the Crystal Empire,” he explained.
“A distress signal? Who coul—” Her eyes widened as she made the connection. “No.”
“Chief Engineer Parallel, Alicorn.” He almost growled it, and his teeth snapped off the name as if the very act could execute the person. “I can’t believe I made such as stupid mistake.”
“I’ll call the circle together,” Clover said.
“You may alert them to the situation, but I will be going at this alone.” His tone rang with a dreadful finality. “I’ll take Lord, if I must bring someone else, but not a single soul more.”
“Cayde,” Clover said softly. “You’ll need him.”
Hammer Strike contemplated it for a moment before sighing. “Fine. I will alert them and be setting off immediately.”
“Should I ask Zavala or Ikora about the details?”
“Whatever works best. They all likely received the signal. Zavala will potentially request we assist them.” He snarled again in disgust as he stomped out of the room. “How could I have forgotten them? I saw the designs. I heard her tell me they were there.”
“Hammer Strike, what is this Crystal Empire?” Clover asked carefully.
“From what the public of the future knows, a city.” Hammer Strike exhaled slowly. “The truth is far worse. It’s a weapon, Clover. I forgot, and let them get hundreds of years to build a planetary weapon!” The hall shook as he slammed his hoof on the ground, and he took a few moments to calm himself. When next he spoke, his voice was much quieter. “I saw the designs, Clover. It … it could wipe out any nation on the planet. Any of them. Even the Gryphons in their prime would be at high risk. These monsters would be capable of holding the entire world hostage.”
“If they’ve had so long, why are they still building it?” Clover asked. “What's holding them back?”
“The Empire,” Hammer Strike replied after a moment. “It was destroyed. They haven’t had steady resources coming in this whole time.”
“How long before they finish it with mining the resources themselves?”
“Given what I recall about the environmental data of the north….” Hammer Strike hummed as his eyes dimmed momentarily. “They’ve likely got it at…” he blinked as the lights returned to his eyes. “A low estimate of ninety percent complete.”
“Then you need to hurry.” Not too far away, Lord appeared through a portal with Cayde in tow. She kissed him on the cheek and brushed the side of his face affectionately. “Go give them hell while I win us this war.”
“I will,” Hammer Strike promised, then nodded as he opened a rift. “I need to gather my equipment. Cayde, Lord, come with me.”
“You’d better come back to me,” Clover said.
Hammer Strike looked with a sad smile that slowly hardened into a bleak mask. “They took years from me, Clover. It’s my turn to take from them.”
“So, let me get this straight. Hammer Strike decided to go after this threat with just himself, Cayde, and Lord, and no backup?” Storm Squall shook his head in disbelief. “I know he’s Hammer Strike, but that sounds foolhardy.”
“And if we pulled the army away for this, what would it accomplish?” Clover countered. “We’re not exactly suited for fighting on the tundra as it is, but it’s also easier for a small force to get past the Gryphons than for our army to fight its way through.” She gave a wry smile. “Besides, he puts limits on himself, mostly for our benefit. He won’t need them there.”
“Did he at least carry a waycrystal with him in case of emergencies?”
“He can create one to me at any time,” Clover noted, tapping a small crystal on a chain around her neck. “We’re going to have to trust him.”
“In that case, the best thing we can do is keep up this front of the war while he carries out his mission,” Starling noted gravely. “The Gryphon forces are divided, which gives us an ideal opportunity to press into their territory.”
“If we do, we can’t do so recklessly,” Clarice noted. Her pony tail swished anxiously as she peered over the maps. “Plunge too deep, and we’ll be cut off from reinforcements.”
“That depends on how many Thestral warriors might be in the area to assist,” Sigurd noted.
“You know Lord Hammer Strike’s policy, Sigurd,” Storm Squall chastised. “We don’t involve civilians unless we have no other option.”
“For now, we’ll start by trying to push the lines back,” Clover said, indicating a spot on the map. “If we can get them to this area, we can probably use the terrain to make our line in the sand.”
“We could always draw them in. Destroy enough of their ships, and they’re bound to go after us on the battlefield we choose,” Sigurd noted. “Out of desperation, if nothing else.”
“We need to be careful there,” Clover said. “We have a limited supply of those disrupters. We can’t use them recklessly.”
Storm Squall nodded. “Capped Fang, do you have any intelligence on the ships in the Gryphon fleets here?”
“Not really,” Capped Fang admitted. “We think there might be half a dozen?”
“And I assume that means you also don’t know which might be for combat and which for transport.” Storm Squall frowned. “In that case, we’ll need some other way to draw them there.”
“I’m sorry. We’re unfamiliar with these airships of theirs.” Capped fang sighed.
“No need to trouble yourself over it. It is what it is.” He frowned and rubbed his chin. “They won’t believe a summons to honorable combat. We’ll need something that enrages them enough to draw them in.”
“That’s easy enough,” Starling said with a shrug. “Insult them. They’re more proud and puffed up than dragons on a hoard high.”
“I assume you and Clarice will be able to devise the best means, then. Make sure it’s enough to draw them in, but not in overwhelming numbers. Can you do that?” Storm Squall asked.
Starling smirked. “We’ll think of something.”
“In the meantime, we’ll have to prepare our surprises well, if we intend to strike a significant blow. Sigurd, I want you and your mages to devise a proper series of defensive measures and some welcoming gifts for our guests of honor.”
Sigurd nodded. “It will be as you say.”
“Lets try and have this wrapped up before he gets back,” Clover said. “Show your king you can succeed without him holding your hoof.”
“And possibly an anniversary present?” Storm Squall smirked at his queen.
“Honestly, Squall, this is more for you than for me. He knows what I'm capable of.”
“Then I suppose I’ll have to do my best not to disappoint.” Storm Squall nodded. “For those who don’t already have assignments, prep the troops. Once we’ve sent the bait, we’ll need to move out and be ready for the reply.” He nodded to each of his war cabinet members. “Dismissed.”
Hammer Strike growled to himself as he pressed on through the tundra before him. At this current point in time, the weather was leaning toward developing into a storm. He shifted the cloak he was wearing, ensuring that he kept it secure to hide himself among the snow. Behind him, Cayde and Lord carried their own.
He frowned as he heard another airship fly overhead. The distress signal was primarily because of the Gryphons. With the war going on, they were spreading themselves out in search of new routes, and appeared to have stumbled across the empire.
“Though I despise this war, I suppose it has proven useful in this regard,” Hammer Strike muttered as he watched the airship distance itself from their position.
“Fortunately, it revealed them to you, and not the opposite.” Lord nodded. “It gives us the advantage.”
Hammer Strike hummed in acknowledgement. “Based off the distress location, we shouldn’t be too far off from the dome. Though it took a few months to get here, I can make a recall point afterwards.”
“That's likely a good idea. I do not require rest, but I would not wish to make the journey again if it would be avoidable,” Lord noted.
“Wimp.” Cayde snickered.
Hammer Strike focused on the land ahead of them. While he could see well in poor conditions, it had reached a point where he could only see so far ahead of them, even with the aid of his augments. As he honed in, he noted a faint light in the distance that they were rapidly approaching. “We’re almost there. I can see it.”
“What's the plan for getting past the camps of Gryphons around it?” Cayde asked.
“Simple.” Hammer Strike reached into his coat and pulled out a small tube. After weighting it briefly in his hoof, he reared it back and threw it far to their west. “We walk in.”
“Do I wanna know what that was?” Cayde asked.
“A distraction,” Hammer Strike commented as a loud explosion sounded through the storm.
“Well, that’ll work.” Cayde chuckled. “So, sprint when the coast is clear?”
“We don’t need to stress over our speed. They’ll be searching for a while, due to the storm.” Hammer Strike sighed. “Cayde, snag some information on our way in.”
“Got it.” Cayde pulled his cloak closer and faded out of sight.
“Lord, deal with any opposition in the camp if we’re discovered. Afterwards, follow into the dome and find me.”
“I’ll make sure no one who sees us reports back.” Lord nodded.
Hammer Strike continued his approach toward the light that soon revealed itself to be a magical dome surrounding the structure. As soon as he reached it, he noted the standard appearance within, perfectly regulated temperatures. He sighed as he went to enter the field, only for his hoof to collide with the dome.
He frowned as he scanned over it with his augments to reveal the barrier was also a shield. He frowned as he thought over how to get clearance for the dome, only to sigh as he realized he would need to reveal himself to their sensors. There was roughly a fifteen percent chance they would notice, however, due to the current situation.
He sighed to himself again and used his augments to send out a ping. It took a few seconds before he received an automated clearance and his hoof passed through the shield. Stepping into the forward operating outpost, he noted a different series of buildings than what he was familiar with.
There was a ping in response as he entered. Static clouded his vision for a second before clearing to reveal a marked location hovering in his digital gaze. There was no official label to the marker, just a brief, See you soon, 8-20 that hovered over the waypoint.
Hammer Strike growled at the designation. They knew he was here, but it was a question of who. The Alicorns wouldn’t have sent him a message, given who he was. That and the fact that they would think he was dead. At best, they would see it as a Gryphon who managed to steal something from the empire.
He was there to kill the Alicorns there, anyway, so if it was a trap, he was prepared well enough, even going so far as to ensure he thaumically solidified the air around him in case they attempted to drug him.
The area within the dome was mostly the same in terms of layout to the empire later in the future. The only difference was the residents seemed to hold less … light to them.
He arrived at what appeared to be some kind of housing unit. It was a small single floor home, pretty much a simple crystalline box. The door opened easily into a dark empty home that consisted of a bed, a table with several odds and ends laying about it, and some kind of crude cooking device. But none of this mattered to Hammer Strike, because the waypoint was beneath him. It took several in-depth scans before Hammer Strike picked up the indent in the floorboards. The hidden trap door led to a downward stairwell. Upon his descent, Hammer Strike found a large dug-out room lined with tables, bits and pieces of technology, computers, charts, maps, and other things.
One of the computers appeared to be on. The screen illuminated a simple message. Hit any key, it instructed.
Hammer Strike frowned to himself before tapping the keyboard.
A message began to scroll across the screen.
Greetings, Subject Eight-Twenty.
Please do be assured I am not your enemy. I merely cross-referenced the pings from your implants and noticed that the file read many of them as experimental or not in production. A further cross reference to the list of subjects made it easy to hypothesize whom it was who requested entrance. That was a risky move. Rest assured, the logs of your request and the pings have been deleted. The tyrant masters are not aware of your presence.
In much the same way you were, my people and I are as good as slaves to the Alicorns. We are forced to do their work and mine and refine the resources for their projects. It wasn’t until some time ago that I discovered they were doing this by means of a transmission being sent directly into our brains to make us placid and subservient. I have since implanted myself with a scrambler to prevent such control.
Your file noted you possesed a general hostility toward the Alicorns, as well as being quite capable at ending them. If these facts are true, then it is my belief there are grounds for an alliance between us. I wish to see the tyrants fall and my people to be free.
I am aware this may seem a trap, and you are right to be suspicious. Around you is everything I have worked on for the last few months. Plans, information, secrets on weaknesses in security, etcetera. I ask you to look it over and decide for yourself. Unfortunately, my position that allowed me to intercept your pings keeps me from being able to meet with you at the moment. I have sent this message from a personal communication device of my own design. If you are present upon my return, I will take it you are willing to hear me out. Should you be gone, I will not look for you, nor will I reveal your presence.
Hopeful for a brighter future,
G
Hammer Strike frowned as he read over the message. The only reason he was willing to accept the idea of it not being an Alicorn was due to the proud nature of the Alicorns. They wouldn’t stoop to the level of humility displayed here.
Looking around, he scanned over the files and filed them away mentally. Whoever this ‘G’ was, he had cleared his presence. Otherwise, he would be likely to have run into an Alicorn at some point.
He sighed to himself as he contemplated the options. His augments ran the calculations and computed that it was at least eighty-five percent safe to remain, so long as he didn’t prod the Alicorn systems again.
He sighed heavily. “I suppose I’ll have to wait.”
The forest on the other end of the mountains was dark and filled with all manner of flora and fauna ranging from the tallest trees to the shortest shrubs and ivy. The trunks grew so thick and close together that it was difficult for ground troops to remain in formation. However, it also made it more difficult for enemies to travel in a similar manner. The Thestrals in the area would be able to function as an effective advance scouting unit while Gryphons and Hippogriffs both took to the canopies to keep an eye out for any troops that might seek to use a different route for attack.
In theory, the thick canopy would also prevent the usual methods of detection that one might use to locate troops, meaning that any war ships would have trouble targeting with their lightning cannons. While the situation wasn’t ideal, it was manageable and provided a better means of engagement than an open field would. Provided they kept up the necessary defense measures and wards, the forest would prove a relatively equal battlefield.
The one concern would be a potential lack of mobility. With the tight quarters, there would need to be a means to counterattack. Gryphons had their talons, beaks, and claws. Hippogriffs had their talons and beaks. Thestrals had their tomahawks and tribal weapons. All three had night vision. The remainder of the troops, however, would need to be careful. And more importantly, they would need to keep in lighted areas. As a counter to this potential disadvantage, a charm was imbued into the warriors’ helmets to produce enough light to see in the dark, should the need arise.
“How long until they arrive?” Storm Squall asked.
“Could be any time,” Starling replied. “They’ll want to make an example of us. Whether they do it with weapons fire or stealth, I don’t know. For now, it’s a waiting game.”
Storm Squall shook his head. “I still don’t like it.”
“It was your call to make.” She shrugged. “Now we just have to see how it works out.”
“Is the whisper spell operable?”
Sigurd nodded. “If any of our scouts finds something of note, they’ll be able to report it immediately.”
“Given the nature of the affront, is it safe to assume they may bring evokers into the fray?”
“It is possible,” Starling admitted. “But even if they do, your Unicorns should be able to match them.”
“So, it’s to be a game of cat and mouse.”
“The question is which is which,” Clarice said.
“No, the question is how many will be taken on each side,” Storm Squall said. “The odds of us emerging unscathed in this encounter are virtually nonexistent.”
“Maybe, but the odds of us emerging victorious are better than theirs,” Clover said as she approached the impromptu meeting.
“True,” Storm Squall admitted. “Capped Fang, have you and your fellow tribesponies explained the signs our scouts should look for to evade your traps?”
“They are as prepared as we can make them.” Capped Fang nodded.
Storm Squall’s expression became bleak, and he nodded. “Then let the games begin.”
“So, you believe this entity is not an Alicorn?” Lord asked as he finished reading the message on the computer.
“Roughly an eighty-five percent chance that they aren’t. Several qualities of their message make it out as such,” Hammer Strike replied.
“And what is your belief about this G?”
“Whoever G is, he or she is worth listening out. They’ve kept a detailed list of schedules for the Alicorns, including weak points that we can use to our advantage.” Hammer Strike hummed. “Worst case scenario, we deal with the Alicorns, anyway.”
“So, we meet with this person, see what they want. if they're hostile….” Cayde drew his weapon and gave it a spin. “It will be a short meeting.”
“Hopefully, it will not come to that.”
“Seen too much to be that hopeful,” Cayde responded.
The trap door opened quite suddenly, and slowly a leg descended to the first step. A stallion slowly descended to greet them. He was a Crystal Pony, but tall, almost as tall as Hammer Strike, himself. His body was dark with a crystalline shine that partially reminded Hammer Strike of volcanic glass. His face, however, was almost masked in white. A scar almost like a crack snaked around from behind his right ear and stretched till it met his right eye. His eyes were dark and almost haunting as he stared at them with a calculating look.
“I had not expected you would have more with you.” His voice was almost unnaturally calm. Hauntingly so, even. “But I can assume they are trustworthy if you brought them here. Or that you have decided to kill me.”
“I hold no ill will toward any crystalline Pony.” Hammer Strike shook his head. “I already know the nature of your being. The Alicorns and Gryphons are the ones I’m after.”
“Then we seek the same goals, Eight-twenty,” he said. “I am Gigabit.”
“Hammer Strike,” he corrected somewhat forcibly as he attempting to hold in his anger. “Please refrain from using that other designation. What exactly is the plan you had in mind?”
“The only plan that would work.” Gigabit chuckled. “We kill the Alicorns.”
Hammer Strike hummed for a brief second. “I anticipated something more than what I had already planned on doing.”
“Of course, but the general goal seems obvious. While the alicorns remain, my people are in danger, as are you to some degree, I would imagine. There are roughly twenty Alicorns operating within the empire. Naturally, with the loss of their home, security has risen dramatically. This won’t be easy.”
“Do they have a panic room in case of emergency?”
“Several panic rooms. They don’t quite trust one another enough to share a single room. They were expecting a new team leader when the news came of the fall. Who is incharge right now is not entirely clear.”
“Do you have a list of names, and the location of these safe rooms?”
Gigabit walked to a wall and pulled out several file folders. “Data streaming is heavily managed. My computers are closed off, but I find physical copies of my more sensitive data are easier to keep out of public vision,” he explained as he passed them to Hammer Strike.
Hammer Strike looked over the list of names. After a brief moment, he frowned and lost interest. Moving on to the locations of the safe rooms, he noted a vast distance between them. “Do they have a meeting hall, somewhere they are all capable of entering together?”
“That would be the future control room.” Gigabit flicked a crystal on the table and an all-too-familiar blueprint floated above it. “I‘ve come to refer to it as the palace.”
“Is Protocol Thirteen in effect?”
“Yes.” Gigabit nodded. “I suppose you could say it’s why the empire isn’t more complete.”
“Delightful.” He sighed. “Can you initiate protocol seven? It won’t matter if you’re caught afterwards, so long as it works for the first thirty minutes.”
“I can.” Gigabit nodded. “I handle most of the data traffic for the empire. What remains of it, anyway. I could slip it in on my next shift.”
Hammer Strike reached out to his side as he opened a rift. Seconds after, Baleful Eclipse was pulled through. “That’s all I’ll need.”
“How will you get in?” Gigabit asked as he analyzed the weapon carefully.
Hammer Strike reached into his coat and lightly passed a small crystal to Gigabit. “Just place that in the room or as close as you can to it.”
Gigabit looked at the stone. He gave a wry chuckle as he took it. “Months of work, and it could all be over by tomorrow.”
“Not quite.” Hammer Strike shook his head.
“The Gryphons are a threat, but less so than the alicorns,” Gigabit said.
“That, and though I hate to bring it up, your kind’s ‘programming.’” Hammer Strike sighed. “Based on the way they have you all working, I would assume they issued a particular logic loop for designation of higher command. If that falls void, you’ll end up with some severe backlashes.”
“That problem could be solved.” Gigabit tapped his crystal again and the palace swapped for a view of a large crystalline orb rotating slowly. “This is Entity Alpha, the hinge on which the whole project rotates. When the project is complete, it can be used to control and direct the flow of energy from my people into the palace structure. I believe that, with work, it could be modified to alter the behavior of others and broadcast free will across the scope of the entire facility.”
“That will take time that you wouldn’t have immediately.” Hammer Strike frowned and thought it over. After a few minutes, he sighed. “You manage the flow of data, correct?”
“That is correct.” Gigabit nodded.
Hammer Strike tapped his hoof as he attempted to think of alternatives before exhaling once more. “If you’re willing to trust me on it, my augments were never designated beyond their model as ‘only for test subjects.’ After you send the protocol into effect, add my augments to the flow of data, giving me the same access as the Alicorns, and thus the same clearance ranking in the system.”
“I can do that.” Gigabit nodded again.
Hammer Strike hummed to himself. “Damn it, even after the fact, you all will need some lead, especially with all this tech around compared to the rest of the world. Error loops can disrupt free will easily if they hit a hard stop.”
“There are options,” Gigabit noted. “We could grow a line to lead.”
“It’ll take time, and a guiding hoof to do so,” Hammer Strike noted. “If left on their own, it could result in a slow descent off track. Most programs have a system dedicated to checks and balances.” He gave a brief soft chuckle. “Think everyone can manage with another leader who is also at war with the Gryphons currently?”
“Who are you?” Gigabit asked, a bit shocked.
“Hammer Strike, King of Equestria.” He shrugged. “Title kinda came with the leading position. I’ve … been busy these last few centuries.”
“We are going to have to discuss this in greater detail, but for now, we have a plan to hash out.”
“From what I’ve been able to figure out from the information you’ve gathered and told to me, I know exactly how this may play out. Following suit with your standard schedule, you are capable of finding your opening roughly between the thirty minutes before sunrise and thirty minutes after sunrise. This will be due to the Gryphon troops receiving more units, or finishing preparations over the night and using their rested soldiers to prepare an assault wave. During this time, the Alicorns are likely to leave a blind spot toward the track of data in favor of keeping up their defenses, allowing you clearance to place the protocol into play and place that crystal wherever nearby their meeting chamber. Upon receiving them, the Alicorns will likely fall into habit, and within fifteen minutes meet within the chamber and spend roughly five to ten minutes determining who sent the signal. That will be my opening to enter. I am capable of sealing the room off to myself and them, leaving them no option but to fight fruitlessly. In that time, Lord and Cayde will be outside the field, dealing with the combatants of the Gryphon Empire, giving us security to deal with this issue and establish control over the system to begin management.”
“How did you work that out?” Gigabit asked.
“You read my file.” Hammer Strike smirked. “Prediction module, one of the ones that hasn’t burned out yet. Never shuts up.”
“There is a patch for that,” Gigabit noted.
Hammer Strike shrugged. “Eh, updates take too long.”
As a final preparation for the events to come, a heavy cloudbank was built by the various flying troops to fill any patches in the canopy and obscure the vision of any Gryphons that might try to travel through the tops. It wasn’t a perfect solution, but it would make it easier to render the fighters earthbound and help to negate the advantage of night vision.
Rattlebang strode cautiously through the myriad of trees. The dim glow of his lamplight pulsed through the foliage and refracted in the mist. Throughout the forest, multiple ghost lights bobbed and weaved as conjured willowisps and Ponies alike trotted along the paths in their parties. The occasional sonic screech could be heard as Thestrals divined their positions via echolocation to track movement.
The first blood was drawn with the shifting of foliage as five Gryphons prowled ever closer. Rattlebang’s eyes widened, and he began to shake as he drew his sword. “No closer!” he barked, though his armor shook after his namesake, disturbing the wildlife and alerting any others in the vicinity of his whereabouts.
The Gryphons sneered as they drew their swords and encroached.
“Five on one. A pity you won’t be able to stop us all.”
“C-c-come at me and see,” he said as he pawed the ground and smacked it hard to be intimidating.
The Gryphons lunged.
Swords made contact. Blood spurted.
And Rattlebang was nowhere to be seen.
Five seriously wounded Gryphons tumbled into the hole that opened beneath the ground and screamed as, one by one, they met a grisly end. Deep within the tunnel, one of the Diamond Dogs grinned and wiped blood from its mouth while the others worked to seal up the breach they’d just made.
Rattlebang smiled. “Thanks for the save.”
“All according to plan.” The canine’s grin widened. “So, are you ready to go again?”
Rattlebang grinned. “I could do this all night.”
In another section of the forest, a platoon of the invading force scouted together. The warriors acted in tight formation to retain visuals on each other. The whinnies of horses mingled with the roars of Gryphons and the occasional ring of steel on steel.
“Stay alert, and look with your ears as much as your eyes,” their leader ordered. “These Ponies are clever.”
“Then, with all due respect, Sir, why are we attacking them at night in these conditions?”
“Because most of their forces aren’t nocturnal. Honestly, Jaune, it’s Equine anatomy 101.”
The heavy clatter of leather and steel heralded the Gryphon’s fall, and the commander let out a long-suffering sigh and shook his head. “Honestly, what are you even doing in the army?”
“Um, sir….”
“Your grandfather was a legend, and look at you. You can’t even keep your paws coordinated.”
“Sir.”
“I mean, really—”
“Sir!” The air stirred as a dagger found its target and a high shriek filled the air. The body of a Thestral dropped to the ground, its bloody tomahawk toppling from its grasp. The captain turned around to see only five of his original party remaining. “Now really isn’t the time.” The steady flap of leathery wings stirred the cloudy mist as fangs glinted and slitted eyes glowed. The party was surrounded, and these creatures were out for revenge.
Trees blurred as Pegasi utilized the subtle shifts in air pressure along the currents of the clouds to differentiate the solid from the non. Their many years of work living in the air and crafting dwellings from the vapor now worked to their advantage as each veered at sharp angles. Heads were lopped, wings were cut, and the younger warriors whooped exultantly at the sheer adrenaline rush.
Foil Poignard was no exception. The young daredevil was among the fastest in his class, and took particular pride in how tightly controlled he could be in flight. Speed was no issue for him, and he took a particular pleasure in being among the fastest of the scouts and the most valiant in combat. First to draw blood, and first to lead the charge against the enemy. His red feathers were tipped with black, and his dark mane acted as the ideal camouflage as it jutted through his helmet. His superiors often called him reckless, but that was what battle needed to get the job done. Without risk, there can be no reward. Without sacrifice, there can be no glory-errr victory.
He’d made a habit of harvesting feathers from each of his targets on the field and crafted them into a badge of sorts that he carried on his person. The currents shifted again, and he smiled as he catapulted toward his next foe.
He easily dodged the mace that swung toward him and laughed exultantly as he seized yet another feather. He continued to laugh as the cool night air seeped between his wings. He laughed as he dropped lower. He panted as his hooves skimmed the ground. He wheezed when he tumbled into the dirt. And finally, with his wings broken into a bloody mess, he noticed the hole in his side and the blood seeping from it. He shuddered, he stiffened, and then he rasped as the shadows closed in, followed by a massive spiked ball flying toward his face.
And then he knew no more.
“‘Will you step into my parlor?’ said a spider to a fly.” The voice crooned ethereally through the tree boughs as the mist filtered in thicker and heavier. The trees seemed to lean in as their boughs creaked ominously. A menacing cackle soon followed.
“Do they really think this is going to frighten us?” one of the Gryphons asked.
“Don’t underestimate them, Robespierre. They can use magic, just as the so-called Children of Faust. That makes them dangerous enough,” another warrior said.
“Oh, you have no idea what you lot just stepped into.” A chorus of cackles echoed through the woods as the turf erupted around the warriors. Roots surged toward the enemy, and they quickly took wing.
“Evasive maneuvers! Axes and hatchets only! Let’s show these Ponies what happens when you cross a Gryphon.”
“Lumiere, watch out!”
Blood spattered the ground as Robespierre shoved his commanding officer aside. The cackling increased.
“Poor little fellow will soon be dead—”
“Let’s end his misery—”
“Off with his head!”
Robespierre’s gaping face stared at the remainder of the squad before it tumbled into the mist below and was lost from sight.
“Your path was set. Your choice was made.”
“Now it’s time you taste our blade.”
Silver droplets glistened beautifully in the air, mingled with the fresh blood that had been spilt. And for a moment, it was as though time had stopped. Then all hell broke loose as those droplets transformed into thousands of tiny needles that thrust at the party. Those who managed to deflect the new threat were stunned by tree boughs as they struck with crushing force. In less than three minutes, the battle was over, and the Gryphons that remained were knocked out, then cocooned in the tendrils.
Three voices giggled.
“Excellent job, Gretta,” the first voice praised.
“Just doing my job, Needlepoint.”
“And doing it well,” a third voice joined in. “Shall we, sisters?”
“Indeed we shall,” Needlepoint agreed.
“Power from the earth, power from the skies, and power from within. Let the three join as one again.”
“Oh, I do love it when you get poetic, Stormy.”
“Let’s show them what happens when the three tribes come together.” Stormy chuckled. “The Weird Sisters are on the prowl.”
“How are those illusions coming along, Sigurd?” Storm Squall asked back at the command tent.
“The cloudbank you brought in is helping immensely. We’re leading the Gryphons on a merry chase.”
“The question is how long we can keep that up until they realize what’s going on.” The commander frowned and rubbed his chin. “Have we checked in with the other parties?”
“So far, each of their plans have been working. We do have some troops that are MIA, however. Given what we’re dealing with, it’s a high probability they’ve either been captured or killed.”
“There is no either. These Gryphons are here to make a name for themselves. They won’t take prisoners, especially now that we’re pushing into their territory,” Starling said. She shook her head. “I wish you’d let us into the fray. We could execute most of them before they can even blink.”
“And it would ruin any chance of using that trick later, especially if we need to perform a prisoner exchange. I don’t want to reveal our full hand unless we have no choice.”
“My troops are getting antsy, Commander.”
“Then control them, Starling. I know they don’t like being held back, but we need them to guard forward operations in the event of discovery. The more we take out from this raid, the less defended the enemy will be when we push toward their main compound. Your troops will see plenty of action then.”
Starling frowned, but nodded. “I’ll tell them.”
“Thank you.”
Hammer Strike sighed to himself as he thaumically tracked the crystal he had given Gigabit. Based off the blueprints of the area, he was able to get a rough idea of where it was located. Once he was added onto their system, he would receive the alert that the protocol was in effect, prompting him to teleport in. He was only to be added after they were all within the chamber.
The alert lit up several minutes later, as well as a timer counting down a thirty minute window.
“Huh, longer window than expected.” Hammer Strike sighed as he focused on the crystal and opened a rift. As soon as he stepped through, however, he found himself surprised to be standing in the center of the room.
Completely surrounded by Alicorns.
“Joy,” he commented sarcastically. “I suppose I did say as close as possible.”
There was a notable pause from everyone in the room before the Alicorns scrambled to get to their hooves. Their horns ignited in preparation.
Before they could manage to do anything, he completely sealed off the room, going so far as to stop the flow of magic, only allowing the field covering the room to absorb it, in turn, giving it back to him. His hooves were ablaze with thaumic energy. “By the Divine, it feels great to be on this side of things.” He smiled, not bothering to hide his knowledge of their language as he spoke fluently. “Why, from the looks of things, you all look almost scared to see me,” he commented, scanning over the occupants.
“You have no right to be here, Eight-Twenty!” one mare snarled.
“And guess what? I don’t need it!” Hammer Strike replied simply. “I don’t need the right or the privilege to be here. I can do whatever I damn well please. I could have done so sooner, but I suppose I kept myself limited in what I would do. Now, however? I’ve got you all exactly where I want you.”
“There are twenty of us, and one of you. We won’t die quietly, if that’s what you have in mind.” The stallion snorted and pawed at the table aggressively. His mane and beard were both an exceptionally bushy and curly red.
Hammer Strike couldn’t help but laugh heartily at the statement. “That—” He took a breath. “That’s rich. You know you’re all screwed. I never thought I’d see the day.”
“You’d take it upon yourself to kill off an entire race?” the same mare who’d spoken first pressed. “We are the last. Surely, even you can't be that short-sighted.”
“Not only would I take it upon myself to do so.” Hammer Strike reached up and placed a hoof on Baleful Eclipse, allowing it to gleam with power. “I would take pleasure in that fact.”
There was a single passing of air, little more than a puff, a sigh. Seconds later, the two halves of the Alicorn crashed onto the table, and then the floor. Blood watered the floor.
A shocked silence filled the room with an oppressive pressure as the remaining Alicorns took in the gruesome sight. In one smooth motion, Hammer Strike had killed their comrade. And he was coming for each and every one of them.
Chaos finally shattered the quiet as an unholy cacophony of whinnies, bellows, war cries, and gibbering shrieks flooded the space. Four of the scientists ran as far away from the mad Pony as possible. Their magic was jammed, their physical strength no match. All they had was the desperate attempt to escape, to live to fight again. The continual refrain of, “Oh, gods!” echoed over and over again mingled with vain prayers that would never be answered. Of the remaining fifteen Alicorns, Hammer Strike was only too gleeful to mow them down with the power of his god weapon.
Hammer Strike had carefully ensured he cut through each and every Alicorn until the last, where he stopped. They were trying their damndest to escape through the door, but his field had ensured the door wouldn’t even budge. “You know,” he started, slowly turning toward the last. “This was quite cathartic. Though not as much as watching that one doctor being damned to an eternity of punishment in Hell, this still proved to be quite helpful.”
“You’re bluffing!”
“What reason do I have to lie?”
“No one comes back from Hell.”
“Under normal circumstances, correct. In my case, well, an elder vampire made a portal, and the living aren’t really meant for Hell. Not yet, anyway.”
The Alicorn’s eyes widened in panic. “You're a monster!”
“Allow me to clarify something for you,” Hammer Strike said coolly as he crept toward them, dragging Baleful Eclipse behind him as he did so. Its metal rang dreadfully on the floor. “I’ve been so kind and gentle with all of you. You just don’t see it.”
The scientist scrabbled to the side and raced desperately to remain out of Hammer Strike’s reach. He flapped his wings desperately, but no matter how much he tried, his body refused to lift.
“I gave you all a quick death,” Hammer Strike continued. His eyes flashed a blinking red as the trauma and the vitriol surfaced. “I gave you all more than you deserve. I let you die a quick death.” He closed his eyes and sighed as he forced himself to calm again. “You never offered that to the people you kidnapped. You tortured them.” He motioned to the corpses that surrounded them. “Like I said, they didn’t deserve this. You don’t either. But I’m better than you. I’ll let you have that mercy you granted no other.”
“I hope you burn in Tartarus,” the scientist spat as he jumped over another set of corpses.
“Sorry, I’ve got a special place in Hell reserved already. Now.” The intensity of his eyes brightened. “Cease your running! he called out. Within himself, he felt his words resonate with one of the artifacts as the Alicorn suddenly stopped in his tracks. He slid across the floor as his horseshoes were coated in the slick blood that pooled there. Hammer Strike continued his inexorable advance. This time, he would finish things off.
The Alicorn jerked his legs desperately. “How are you doing this? You can’t be doing this!”
“Kneel,” Hammer Strike ordered.
Once again, the Alicorn was forced into action. His head now had to look up in order to see Hammer Strike at his full height. The fruitless struggles continued.
Once Hammer Strike stood before the Alicorn, he gave a small smile as he brought the scythe to the Alicorn’s neck. “Wherever the afterlife takes you, I hope it’s everything you deserve.” He finished with one clean swipe. And with that, the dreadful legacy of torture and destruction the would-be-lords had built came to an end. The souls of the dead could rest. Their innocent blood had been avenged. It would be up to the next generation to decide the new legacy of the Alicorns now. And Hammer Strike already knew where that would lead.
Staring out at the bodies around him, he sighed and flicked the scythe to clear what blood he could off the blade, only for it to be already clean. He shrugged to himself and cleared his field, unlocking the room, and returned Baleful Eclipse to his back.
The door opening was blaring compared to the silence in the room. Gigabit stepped through slowly, and his eyes widened as he observed the results. “You really did it.”
“You had doubts?” Hammer Strike questioned.
“You’ll forgive me if all I had was reports. There was never any footage to qualify if the statements were conjecture or fact.”
“Fair enough, I suppose.” Hammer Strike shrugged. “Now, I believe we have some work to do. I’ve got to start re-writing some commands and code, as well as win this war against the Gryphons.”
“I’ve given you control of the manufacturing grid.” Gigabit nodded. “I’ve also worked out a genetic blueprint for a Crystal Pony that should permanently jam and degrade the alicorn signal. My estimates say my people should be immune within six generations.”
“That’s good. I should be able to at least instill some free thinking and free form commands to allow some facsimile of free will, but it’ll take some effort to go beyond that.” Hammer Strike hummed. “I’ll have to disable a dampener. That’s going to be fun.”
“I’d suggest defences first. The shield will only last five hours without the slavers around to charge it,” Gigabit noted.
“I can probably charge it up a bit, give us at least…” He ran a rough estimate through the connection he’d been granted to the systems. “Two hundred and seventy-two hours. Eleven days and some hours. I should actually have enough charge to keep that up longer, actually, given my rate of recovery.”
“Is there anything you need directly? If not, I will get started on preparing a gestation pod.”
“I might need your help ensuring everyone is clear on the fact that I’m A: going to be running things, and B: I’m not like the Alicorns. Might come easier from someone they know.”
“For now, I’ve cleared your credentials in the system. You’re the current team leader, as much as it hurts me to say it. It may be pragmatic to deal with the Gryphons before establishing your image with them.”
“Fair, yes. But, at the same time, ease of mind makes work quality better. Though you’ve definitely never heard of that study, due to the nature of the Alicorns,” Hammer Strike muttered the last half. “In any case, I’ll trust you to at least calm any issues that may rise from the free thinking part.”
“I’ll make sure to keep it a priority.” Gigabit nodded.
“We’ve got a force stronger than what the Alicorns were capable of here. To put it simply, Cayde is a crackshot, and Lord is literally an archdevil from Hell.”
“I have no doubt of their ability; however, growing some turrets along the outskirts may be helpful. I am not conditioned for battle, but your implants should already have all the control you need.”
“Oh, of course. I wasn’t saying we shouldn’t keep growing that force. I’m simply stating that I have plans for how to clear those Gryphons out. If I really wanted to go the extra mile, I can try to replicate my null field out here, though it’s going to be a little more strange this time around.”
“Null field?” Gigabit asked.
“Contrary to what the Alicorns thought, I developed a way to cut off ambient magics from specific forces and individuals, thus making my enemies unable to access some of their abilities. A Gryphon unable to fly, their evokers useless, Unicorns without magic, Pegasi unable to use their wings or control the weather. Earth ponies unable to connect themselves to the earth beneath their hooves. I created them to defend my kingdom, to ensure the safety of each and every one of my subjects. If all of you will work with me, then I can supply the same safety features.”
“I am a biological machine, and your mind baffles me,” the Crystal Pony said with a shake of his head.
“Let me put it simply, though I hate the way it sounds. I am quite mad.” Hammer Strike sighed. “I don’t sleep, I barely eat, I think and think and think.” His eyes dimmed briefly. “In the end, I simply do what I think is best. And right now, I think the best course of action is showing those Gryphons just how bad of a move it was to attack us.” He ended with a confident smirk. “Shall we?”
“After you.” Gigabit nodded.
“So, a war on two fronts. This is going to get interesting,” Vital Spark said as he eyed the monitor.
“It serves those gastly creatures right.” Rarity turned her nose up. “Enslaving the Crystal Ponies like that.” She shook her head. “Simply barbaric.”
“Rarity, if what Gigabit says is true, they weren’t just enslaved. The Crystal Ponies were … grown,” Twilight said, then turned to The Doctor. “They were artificial lifeforms?”
“Yes.” The Doctor nodded. “Now you see the humble beginnings of one of Equestria’s most vital allies. They’re more advanced than say, a golem, and they bore the capacity to reproduce, but they were designed and programmed down to their very magical essence to obey their creators without question, made-to-order slaves.”
“That’s monstrous.”
“That’s ignorance.” The Doctor shrugged. “And arrogance, I suppose. They either didn’t know or didn’t care that they were producing sapient lifeforms. What mattered to them was that they created them, and so these creatures should be treated no differently than any other piece of technology they produced.”
“This is what happens when science throws ethics out the window.” Grif sighed. “Take a good look, Twilight.”
Twilight did.
“I assume this is something we’re probably not going to want to make common knowledge to Cadence and the rest of the empire?” Vital guessed.
“Probably.” Grif nodded. “This is probably one of the more extreme warps of science and magic. It goes right up there with ‘reformation spells,’” Grif said with a growl.
“Frankly, I’m surprised they even allow that spell to be in print. We may need to have a talk with celestia and the EEA about that when we get home,” Vital said.
“Science and magic both lead to the same issue: Too many people asking ‘if we can,’ not enough asking ‘if we should.’” Grif didn’t take his eyes off the Alicorn. “Do you understand the lesson here?”
Twilight nodded. “I think I do.”
“Anyway, the Crystal Ponies’ origins mean very little for the present day,” Grif noted. “We all were created by the gods in a manner not entirely dissimilar.”
“Most of them just knew better than to treat us like tools,” Vital said.
Grif nodded. “I think the Crystal Ponies in general don’t need to be aware of this, but I feel that will be Cadence’s call in the end.”
“Good. At least we’ll be speaking to Cadence about that.” Pensword looked at a notepad. “I need to make sure Hammer Strike disables that urge or compulsion of obeying whatever the matrix decides is the master.” He fluffed his wings. “God is dead,” he muttered. “If God is dead, what then shall you replace him with? For Science without a god to hold the boundaries…. This was just the first step… If the Alicorns had thrived more and longer, what would they have done to make this look sane?”
“That’s a rabbit hole I’d rather we not jump down, Pensword,” Vital said firmly.
“I’m not jumping down it, but I am slowly understanding more of why Hammer Strike is dismantling and destroying this empire. If I’d had the full picture from the start, and what I assume was Discord destroying the history of this period….” He trailed off. “Luna and Celestia are very, very lucky to have not been tainted by the sins of their empire.” He looked at the paper again, then growled. “I want a nice dark place to talk to Discord,” he muttered darkly.
“Pretty sure this is one thing Hammer Strike might be grateful to Discord for erasing,” Vital said.
“What Nazi Germany did was horrible, sickening. And while many would enjoy it being forgotten, we make sure we remember, so it will never. Happen. Again.”
“It almost did happen again,” Grif said.
“And I blame the lack of teaching of history,” Pensword countered.
“Which is why we tell Cadence,” Grif said. “Remember the other side to this, Pensword, something just as important.”
“The Crystal Ponies were grown to be the perfect slave.”
“How do you think they’d take that, finding out they were created as a distortion of nature by beings calling themselves gods? They’d be hurt, broken.” Grif shook his head. “This is sensitive information. Best to let Cadence decide how to spread it.”
“I’m still talking to Discord and Celestia about this. I can … somewhat understand the divorce of Luna and Nightmare Moon, but she let others edit her story. She allowed things that shouldn’t have been forgotten to be forgotten, and lulled this entire nation into what we saw.” He worked even harder to keep his breathing in check. “And what Discord did to this … did to utterly destroy the sense of founding, the sense of the unity we had, to the point where we thought less time happened between all the wars.” His eyes flashed angrily. “And what he and Celestia did to push the Thestrals to hide back in the caves!”
“Yes, yes, we’ve all got an ax to grind with Celestia.” The Doctor waved his hoof dismissively. “Now let’s move on. There’s still a lot more time to cover.”
Storm Squall sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose as they sat together in council. The troops were either recovering the dead or recuperating, barring the scouts that were currently checking the woods to ensure the Gryphon force had left. Of the numbers they had projected, their actual losses had proven almost miraculously small. The gamble had paid off, though members of the force had paid the ultimate price.
“We won’t be able to portal them back. That leaves us with two options. We can either bury them here and give them a proper ceremony back in Unity or we can box them up and ship them to Unity, where they’ll be buried without opening the box in the first place. Unless you happen to have some ideas, Clover?” he asked.
“There are some spells of preservation that can be cast over the cadavers, if we have to,” Clover admitted. “I’d rather not attempt one of Hammer Strike’s gates unless it’s absolutely necessary.”
“Will these spells have any negative impact on the casters?”
“That depends on their magic class and the duration of the spell required. The longer the preservation, the more magic that will need to be put out in the outset.”
“Is it difficult to teach or cast?”
“Not especially. Many Unicorns use the spell to prevent their supplies from spoiling on a long journey. The principle is essentially the same, only this time we’re keeping flesh from rotting, rather than fruit.”
“Then we’ll go with that. We’ll need to arrange to send them back through the supply lines, once they’ve been prepared. When does the next cart start the return trek?”
“Whenever you need it to, Sir,” Tidy Sweep said. The Earth Pony remained staunch and resolute as she brushed the bristles of her mane jutting through the helmet. “We aren’t unfamiliar with treating the dead.”
“Then I’ll leave it to you to coordinate with Clover and Sigurd to prepare the dead for transport. Afterward, I want a full report on our troops. We need to know who can still fight, who can travel, and who needs to be sent home to recuperate. Anything else?”
“Not at the moment, Sir.”
Storm Squall nodded. “Then you have your orders. I’ll call you back, once we have a proper course charted for the next part of the assault. Dismissed.”
Hammer Strike looked over the outermost edge of the shield. Over the last few weeks, he had been commanding the system to place defensive turrets and other blueprints of his own design along the edge, changing their positions every few days in order for it to be unpredictable to the Gryphons.
At this moment, the Gryphons were struggling to keep up, especially due to the fact that they had a long distance to travel to deliver supplies and new units. It was only a matter of time until they couldn’t keep up the assault and abandoned this cause.
“One of the most efficient military species in current records,” Gigabit commented, looking out at them. “And you’ve put them against the wall.”
“Well, they can’t win them all.” Hammer Strike shrugged. “If it weren’t for the fact that it would be unrecoverable, I would have brought some of my devices to knock those airships out of the sky.”
“Knock them out of the sky?”
“Using Unicorns to launch the device, it would attach itself to the bottom of the hull and within seconds either disrupt the core of the airship, or cause it to violently detonate. Haven’t worked out the kinks of that, but either way works in getting rid of them. The device normally remains intact, which is a problem if I don’t want them to find it.”
“Thus the requirement to retrieve it from the wreck.” Gigabit nodded. “Why not add a conditional self destruct?”
“Because I was saving resources. They aren’t the cheapest, to be honest.”
“Which would be more problematic, ruining the resources or them getting ahold of the device?”
“Considering the nature of the device, both pose a major risk, but I’ll see if I can make a cheaper alternative for here.”
“The crystal is adaptive. If you can find the right sequence, it should be able to replicate your device for you.”
Hammer Strike reached into his coat and pulled out a thaumic crystal to show Gigabit. “Trust me, this isn’t something easily replicable, not even by Alicorn standards.”
“I’ll have to take your word. I have no desire to get near the old powers.” Gigabit looked at the crystal with a surprising amount of distaste.
Hammer Strike frowned. “I’ll have to remove that entry later. I want no knowledge of this to exist anymore.” He placed the crystal back in his coat. “I’ve spent well beyond a lifetime understanding it, and I have seen the worst possible outcome to it. It needs to vanish from sight for as long as it can.”
“Aside from the Alicorns' personal files, they’re already gone,” Gigabit said. “Knowledge for knowledge's sake is foolhardy. I deleted everything I could reach.”
“Good. I appreciate that.”
“It was the old powers that killed them all, wasn’t it?” Gigabit asked. “In the end, I mean.”
Hammer Strike took a breath as the memory surfaced. “It … it was the thing that followed that killed them all. Between the walls of reality, in a sea of energy, they sit and watch over it all. Sometimes, they do more than watch.”
“Dabbling with something they couldn’t understand. The height of their arrogance.” Gigabit sighed. “To think they created us.”
“To that end, we can be thankful for their arrogance,” Hammer Strike replied. “You are all saveable. Not mindless beings incapable of free thought or will, but living things that can. They never thought you would be capable.”
“If not for you, we wouldn’t be. I estimated another six years before I could begin to act against them.”
“But that’s the thing. You were capable before I arrived,” Hammer Strike countered. “You managed to break free, and it was only a matter of time before you could do so with more. All it takes is a beginning.”
“Maybe, but fate seems to alter in your hoofsteps,” Gigabit commented. “I have a feeling no matter what happens here, it will be you who makes the biggest mark on our history.”
“Yeah, she tends to not like that,” Hammer Strike commented idly. Before he could continue what he was saying, a loud thump sounded off from nearby followed shortly by a loud explosion lighting up the nearby vicinity. “Oh, yeah. I made some new turrets, by the way. Railguns are quite fun to design.”
Gigabit pulled up the design and looked it over, his eyes slowly widening. “Yes, that will do it.”
The acrid stench of smoke and embers drifted on the winds as the Equestrian camp sat outside the Gryphon castle. The fortress was massive, but the surrounding fields and other crop areas had been reduced to scorched earth. Distasteful though the tactic had been, it had worked. With less and less crops to harvest, the Gryphons’ supply chains began to crumble, and more importantly, their stock in preparation for the coming winter became sparse. Now the bite of winter could be felt in every gust as the forest animals prepared for the deep sleep to come.
“Well, you did it,” Starling announced as she glided down to a waiting Storm Squall.
“Doesn’t mean I liked it.”
Starling shook her head. “Never said you did. We had to show them we meant business. Destroying their harvest will give them something else to focus on, instead of making war.”
“I take it a messenger is coming, then?”
She nodded. “You can expect to see him soon. Make the negotiations quick. We’ve got a long way back home, and even with those mountain tunnels, it’s still going to be a race to get back to the kingdom before winter sets in.”
The reception was suitable to the season, a frosty one. However, the white banner was recognized, and the messenger granted entry, albeit under heavy guard.
Storm Squall eyed the Gryphon carefully. “You came with a message. Deliver it, and you will have a response.”
The Gryphon nodded. “His Excellency, King Gowther, calls for a parlay, the focus of which shall be the negotiation of cessation of hostilities between the amalgamation known as Equestria and the Gryphon Empire. As the ruling authority on this continent, King Gowther shall represent His Holiness, Emperor Clause Riversong Aragorn Simon Stonecutter of the Stonecutter clan.”
“Kingdom,” Storm Squall corrected.
“Excuse me?”
“Equestria is not an amalgamation. We are a kingdom, united under a single ruler. I attribute your mistake to ignorance. Please, refrain from insulting our nation again. As for the parlay itself, our king is not currently with this force, and I cannot guarantee he will be available to negotiate the cessation of hostilities directly. To be honest, you’re fortunate he’s not. However, his wife is present, and as the commander of these forces, I will also be in attendance. We will come in good faith, and expect the same of you and yours. Inform your king that we accept the parlay. However, we insist it be held on neutral ground. Honor would demand nothing less. A small guard will also be permitted. No more than ten soldiers to act as escort and witnesses. Have him bring his seal. If we are to negotiate a proper cessation, then by Sleipnir’s beard, we’ll make it official. Take these terms to your king and return with his reply. I want his word by the end of the day. Negotiations for peace take time. Agreeing to the terms of a simple parlay should not.”
“And will you also relay terms of negotiation to my king?”
“Those will be discussed when we meet face to face, and no sooner,” Storm Squall said with a stony face. “You have your answer. Now take our message to your king. We will await his reply.”
The messenger nodded and strode out of the camp before taking wing.
“Not bad,” Starling praised.
“I hope it will be the last one we have to deal with in our lifetimes,” Storm Squall said.
“Who knows?” She shrugged. “I’d be dreading having to tell Clover more than worrying about another war, if I were you, though. I doubt she’s going to be pleased having to represent Equestria.”
“She is the highest rank.”
Starling chuckled. “And I’m sure you’ll be very eloquent when she throws a tantrum.”
“Naturally. I’ll tell her the story of a little bird who couldn’t stop mocking. I’m sure she’ll get a real kick out of it.”
Starling smirked. “Not bad, Storm Squall. Not bad.”
Hammer Strike’s attention was diverted to several parts of the Crystal Empire. At the moment, he was ensuring the state of the turrets around the empire as well as maintaining the delicate systems running behind the scenes in control of the Crystal Ponies.
He, however, put those processes on hold when his communication relay sounded off. After a moment, he held it up. “Clover? Is it already time for the bi-weekly update?”
“The Gryphons have requested a parlay, hopefully to talk peace,” she said.
Hammer Strike blinked a few times as he processed the message. “They’re finally done?”
“Yes. It’s likely they can’t keep supplying the war.”
“Finally,” Hammer Strike sighed. “Maintaining everything up here has been hell.”
“Could have been a lot worse,” Clover pointed out.
“Agreed.” Hammer Strike sighed again. “It certainly explains the lack of forces up here, though it’ll probably take another week until they get the message to cease their attack.”
“It might go swifter if you had tossed a few of the alicorn remains out of the shield.”
“I did that, actually. Well, a head or two.” Hammer Strike paused as he hummed. “I’ll have to ask Gigabit how many we actually did. It worked for a short bit.”
“Well, let's hope they recall soon, then,” Clover said. “I miss you.”
“And I you.” He gave a soft smile. “Well, you could come up here for a day if things actually calm down out there. I could make a rift.”
“We’ll have to see how things go.” He could hear her smile. “I take it you're finally getting a hold on things?”
“Yeah. As it turns out, the twenty-some Alicorns up here were actually doing work and maintaining their own departments. Had to either automate them or run them myself.”
“Huh. Doing the work of twenty people is hard. That’s a first for complaints from you,” she said with a teasing grin.
“Oh, shush. At least when I do it at home, it’s physical work. Up here, it’s a constant strain on my augments.” Hammer Strike chuckled. “Though, the ability to just think of a spot to place some automated defense and actually have it happen is quite nice.”
“It will be nicer to return to Unity when this is all over,” Clover said. “I haven’t seen Yharon and the girls in a while.”
“Agreed. Though that is going to be an interesting situation in its own right.”
“What's wrong there?” Clover asked.
“Been away for some time, and you know they’ve been getting somewhat stir crazy.”
“Celestia and Luna are probably at each other's throats, but we both know Hharon’s much cooler headed.”
“To a point. But we’ll see how they are when we get there.” Hammer Strike chuckled. It was at this point that he noticed variables changing around the empire outside of his control. “I'm … going to have to put this conversation on hold, Clover. Something’s just come up.”
“I’ll keep you posted,” Clover promised.
Hammer Strike placed the communication relay into his coat as he started to run diagnostics on the empire. As it turned out, there was another source altering and managing the subsystems to the same degree he had been managing.
It wasn’t until he started looking into the source that a prompt appeared before him and a voice came through. “Greetings, User Hammer Strike.”
“Hello?” Hammer Strike responded warily. He was certain that he cleared every Alicorn in the empire. Now it was a matter of figuring out which Crystal Pony he was talking to. “Who am I currently communicating with?”
“Apologies. I am Vega, an artificial intelligence designed to maintain the current systems of the Forward Operating Crystalline Facility.”
“And you’ve only recently come online?” Hammer Strike questioned.
“Negative. Once the previous members of the Crystalline Research Division abandoned their posts, I took notice that you remained and continued maintaining the current subsystems in their stead, increasing efficiency by roughly twenty percent. I took it upon myself to study your habits and learn your methods of running the facility before I would step in to assist, or with your permission, take hold of them to allow you time to continue suppressing the opposing forces attacking the facility.”
“That … would have been good to know sooner.” Hammer Strike sighed.
“With your level of control, I couldn’t find a time to step in to introduce myself. You appear to be severely lacking in rest.”
“Well, I can’t sleep in the first place, so….” Hammer Strike let that hang in the air.
“Understood. I will look for different times to give you updates and ensure proper communications.”
“All right. Though, I have a question for you now. Why is it nobody told me about you?”
“It appears that the research division abandoned their posts soon after you arrived. In a rapid fashion, mind you.”
“Yeah…”
“I already know. However, due to the nature of their sudden departure, any information they may have had left with them. The crystalline automatons, however, have no knowledge of my existence, even Rogue Unit Three-Seven-Six, or Gigabit, as it has chosen to be called.”
“That … explains some things.” Hammer Strike frowned.
“Should the need arise, I can alert them to my presence. But as of this moment, everything appears to be running in order. Would you like me to take over maintaining the subdivisions to the same efficiency as you?”
“If you can do them better while treating the Crystal Ponies like living, breathing beings, then that would be all right.”
“Understood. I can treat them with the same respect as you have given. I will remain on standby in case of emergency or if you have any questions.”
“I appreciate that.” Hammer Strike nodded, and with that, the connection cut. True to Vega’s words, the system was being run exactly how he would have done it, though occasionally he would see altered variables that, in the long run, seemed to be a good idea.
“I’ll have to talk with Gigabit about this,” he muttered to himself.
The ground between the two camps was dry and barren. Soot rose from the ground as the Gryphon escort settled to the earth, then made way for their king. Gowther was bound in an intricately crafted set of armor engraved with runes that had been carved with perfect precision. His blade was a two-handed bastard sword that rested on his back. His eyes were keen, his gaze grim as he passed through his guard to approach the table that had been set up with quills, inkwells, and scrolls.
Rather than the customary guard that would have been expected, a lone Unicorn mare stood behind the table. A cloak billowed behind her to ward off the cold while a massive star sapphire glinted dully on its chain around her neck. The blue mare eyed the approaching group with some disdain, but held her tongue until the party stopped on their side.
“King Gowther.” Clover gave a small nod of the head, but little else.
“Clover the Clever. Bold of you to come by yourself. I was under the impression your commander would be accompanying you.”
“You know, I am a little shocked. I recognized you the due of your title, yet you withhold me mine,” Clover said. “Storm Squall Hurricane wanted to accompany me, but I made a point of explaining to him how his presence would only be endangering himself and sending more than needed to handle this.” The mare had an air of total confidence. “If you wanted to be threatening, you should have brought more Gryphons.”
“I was under the impression you were not one for titles.” The king shrugged. “But if you wish it, I can address you as such.”
“And I was under the impression your species wouldn’t push for a blood crusade,” Clover shot back. “Guess we’re both disappointed there.”
“So it would seem, Your Majesty,” Gowther said coldly. “You know our culture well enough. These negotiations are no different than when we seek to bargain. What is your offer?”
“No. These negotiations will be different,” Clover said simply. “You cannot afford to keep this up. You don’t have the ore and the supplies to keep up this warfront as well as your attack on the Diamond Dogs down south and the Minotaurs to the southwest of your empire.” Clover smirked as she saw the side of his beak twitch. “We keep ourselves informed, Your Majesty. You need one front to end, and this is the only one your honor allows you to back away from.”
“There is also the small matter of the crops you razed, but who’s keeping track?”
“My husband takes war very seriously. Now here’s what you're going to give us to end this.” She placed a map on the table before them and levitated a quill already dipped in ink. She drew a line not too far away from where they actually now stood, but covering up to the mountains and down to the southern reaches off the continent. She also circled the location of the crystal empire. “Everything west of this territory is now Equestrian. Furthermore, the empire will pay eighty thousand beaks in reparations to Equestria, as well as fifteen thousand toward the Buffalo tribes and another fifteen thousand toward the Kirin for a grand total of a hundred and ten thousand gold beaks.
“Equestria will be sent a hostage from every one of your kingdom’s noble clans, as well as the second princess of the king ruling this region of the empire. That would be you. Equestria will allow all Gryphon troops, as well as citizenry who wish it, to leave our newly acquired land in peace. Any citizens who wish to stay may do so, so long as they agree to accept Equestrian law and authority. The Gryphon empire will return all prisoners of war, and Equestria will do the same. These are the only terms for which this can end. Agree or disagree, but be assured my husband guarantees if this war continues another year, then we will push until every imperial soldier on this continent is dead.”
“Hostages? Really?” Gowther shook his head. “Even assuming I can get the emperor’s permission for the latter demands, my kingdom would enter into an uproar if I agree to giving those cubs to you.”
“And my husband can’t accept your word alone on this peace treaty,” Clover retorted. There was an unsettling shine to her eyes as Gowther could swear he felt strange. His armor seemed to be heating and yet freezing at the same moment as she spoke. “Tell me, Your Majesty, how long before your citizens begin rioting as the price for a loaf of bread becomes the same as a full-course meal?” Ghostly specters seemed to form behind Clover, one a deep red with glowing eyes and long curved horns, the other less demonic. And yet the upright creature seemed to have the coldest regal bearing Gowther had ever seen. The ground around Clover covered with permafrost to the left, even as steam billowed from the right.
“You attacked us as though we were bloodsport. You took the lives of our citizens to swell your pride, and now you simply want to leave without consequences.” Her voice was no longer singular. Gowther heard three distinct voices speaking. Clover’s own was overladen by a gravely masculine one as well as a frigid feminen one. “Fathers, sons, mothers, and daughters have fallen. Their blood spilled upon the soil, simply for your vain sense of glory. We will have our assurance, King Gowther, one way or the other.”
“Sir!” a voice shouted as a Gryphon barreled in at full speed. He panted wildly as he stopped before the king, holding out a scroll. “Message from the southern fort! Undead at the gates, organized and armed. They’re not sure they can hold out.”
“That would be Ainz Ooal Gown, one of my husband’s devoted retainers,” Clover said with a smirk. “That particular part of our forces doesn’t need food or rest, unlike yours. You do the math.”
Gowther narrowed his gaze suspiciously. “Your husband must be resourceful if he’s able to bring a greater undead under his thrall.”
“My husband was killing Alicorns while you were still suckling your mother’s teat,” Clover said frankly. “This is only a taste of what he can unleash.”
Gowther’s talons dug deep into the table as he looked at Clover, then to the entities that had manifested behind her. “You’ll call off the attack?”
“Once the documents are signed.”
Gowther growled through gritted teeth as he swallowed his pride. “Then let’s get this over with.”
“The Gryphons appear to be retreating,” Gigabite informed Hammer Strike.
“Took them long enough.” Hammer Strike sighed. “The peace treaty was over a week ago.”
“I think they were weighing their options.”
“At least this will settle things for some time. I’m unsure of how long, but at least I can set things appropriately and return to my family.”
“You miss them?”
“Every part of me does.” He gave a brief smile. “I’ll of course return here from time to time. After all, I said I’d keep track of things. But … I’d just feel better if I could take some time for myself.”
“I will mak—” Gigabit was cut off as a small rift formed in the center of the room. A Draconic eye appeared inside it. Given the rift’s small size, the eye took up almost all the space, though Hammer Strike could just make out familiar feathers around it.
“Father!”
“Yharon?” Hammer Strike questioned. “Is Clover opening a rift for you?”
“I had to use an emergency spell. Unity has just been attacked.”
Hammer Strike’s eyes hardened at the information. “Move aside. I’m returning.”
“It’s already over.” Yharon’s eye winced visibly. “Three adult Dragons. I fought them off, but it wasn’t easy. They burnt a lot of buildings down, including the cabin.”
Hammer Strike grit his teeth. “I warned them. I gave them not one chance, but two.” He growled. “Coloration and noticeable marks,” he ordered.
“Uh, one black, one blue, and a purple,” Yharon said. “The blue had an injured eye and a broken left horn. The black had red and green eyes. I think the purple had a broken arm. I didn’t get a good look.” He sighed. “I’m sorry, Father.”
“Did one of them hold a piece of my magic?”
“I felt something familiar, but I didn’t have time to really look at it during the fight,” Yharon answered.
“The contract has been broken.” Hammer Strike growled as Thaumic energy seeped from him. “I’m done playing games.” He threw his hoof out to the side as he opened a rift as close as he could to the Dragon Lands.
Stepping through, he was supposed to be greeted by the nearby town of Braybolt. Population count, somewhere around thirteen thousand.
What actually met him was a smouldering heap of rubble.
Taking no time, he moved toward the city and began a scan for any survivors. No matter where he searched or how hard he tried, the results came back the same.
Nothing living.
He stopped near the remains of the town square, where he noted several corpses, mostly burnt away, in a large gathering. Judging by the armor and weapon slag strewn about, he determined it was the city guard. They had likely lost their lives leading civilians to safety.
A safety that he was meant to provide for them.
Hammer Strike grit his teeth as he attempted to find some means to calm himself.
Nothing worked. The pain, the loss, the sheer weight pushed and surged and thrust until, quite suddenly, in one shocking moment, the sensation burst its confines and simply … died. He took a calming breath and reached among the corpses to grab something, anything. The remains of a weapon slowly rose in his grasp. Something pulsed within his being as the grip started vibrating in his hoof. Shards and pieces of metal and slag gravitated toward it, as though they had a will of their own, longing to be whole.
Shards from swords, axes, hammers, knives, and even flails were pulled toward it. And still the cold calm burned bright in his eyes. His malice took no preference in what formed, so long as it would do what he wanted it to do. The steel glowed a cherry red as the fragments pulled together and fused with their nearest point on contact.
The mark of the Outsider pulsed as the weapon formed, feeding its creation as the blade took the shape of a large bearded hatchet. It was a mismatched amalgamation that should never have worked, but it writhed in Hammer Strike’s malice, following the patterns that came from it. The outsider’s mark sat in the shards of the weapon, acting as an anchor to hold it together.
From the hilt, blackened tethers pulled from the grip and wrapped themselves around Hammer Strike’s hoof.
He despised it.
He despised the Dragons.
A perfect match.
This time, there would be no negotiations, no chances, no mercy.
This time, fully and truly, without restraint, without regret, without conscience, Hammer Strike was out for blood.
The creature that walked into the Dragon Lands was neither large nor imposing. There was no ominous wind, no thunder or lightning, no omen or portent. Even if there were, the greater portion of the Dragons that resided in the land cared little for such things in their blind avarice and greed. Possession and power were what mattered here. Power to take what they wished. Power to terrorize enemies and neutral parties alike. In all their years, the Dragons had felt no need to truly feel afraid. No, not truly, save for some few of the elders, those who remembered what it meant to face a foe that was not of their kind and yet could hold its own.
These alone felt the breaking of the contract. And with that breaking, they tasted fear. Those who had sense took what valuables they could and fled, leaving caves and hordes for others to claim. They knew only too well what was coming.
Hammer Strike gazed at the skies where these creatures fled. His augments zoomed in on their trajectory and marked the location of their dens. It was as good a place as any to begin his chastisement. No, that was too soft a word. They had broken a solemn pact. They had dared not only to harm those who were under his care as subjects. They attacked his son and daughters. He’d promised Bahamut to watch over and protect Yharon. And though the contract had been broken, he would honor his word on that front, at least. The rest … could burn.
The crisscross of scars that now made the majority of his hide glowed with an inner fire as his power channeled through his body and the Outsider’s mark. Already, the permutations of ways in which the Dragons were celebrating their assault plagued his mind, feeding the torrent that gave his monstrous weapon shape.
“Never again,” he said softly. Blue fire scorched the earth with every step he took. And like a spark on a fuse, that power spread through the earth. Precious gems and veins of ore in all shades and hues flashed a bright blue that increased in radiance to the point where it was practically blinding. And then, suddenly, it died. Crystals, gems, and geodes disintegrated into so much powder. Ore was reduced to dross-ridden slag. The very earth itself, once full of life, sagged into pot and sinkholes as the color drained into dead black rock. The only source of color that remained came from the magma flow that spurted to the surface with the force of Hammer Strike’s unrestrained malice channeled with every dogged step.
There was no problem with this at first. That is, until he’d walked a few miles into the territory. And just as oil spreads broadly over water with a single drop, so too had the Pony king’s power spread to the nearby dragons that were feasting and counting their bounty. For those that were eating, the gems turned bitter in their mouths, then crushed to a sickly paste. They spat it out. These had only just begun to hit their stride as Greed Dragons. Their spines were jagged. Their scales were hard and rigid. Their eyes blazed with the ever-burning lust for power, for possessions, and the status that those possessions would bring as their corrupted forms swelled with pride, arrogance, and that ever-growing hunger.
“All right, who the Tartarus just ruined my lunch?” the first youngling roared. The ground shook with his bulk as he slammed onto all fours. His body rippled with muscle, and his scales cracked like dry desert earth as he stomped toward the source of the disturbance. Three more shadows flew overhead, their mouths ablaze with the fires of their malcontent.
Every person knew better than to get between a Dragon and its meal.
Every person, save for this creature that even now was poisoning their food!
As the Dragon charged forward, he thought about how only a fool would be this brash to come against such powerful young Dragons still growing into their prime.
As the Pony in question drew his axe back, the Dragon thought about how only a fool would use a Pony weapon against a Dragon.
And as the Dragon’s head was being cleaved off his neck, a final thought passed through his head.
Only an idiot underestimates a fool.
The other three younglings paused in their flight as they took in just how neatly and easily this Pony had cut through a Dragon’s scales and spinal cord without so much as breaking a sweat. This particular enemy would require more tact than they thought. The fire burned in their bellies as they prepared to bombard the Pony with projectiles. If they couldn’t take it out up close, they would burn it from a distance.
Their flames seemed to simply ignore the Pony as they got close. The magic in the dragonfire itself burned in large flares of blue. Hammer Strike looked up with cold fury as he pulled back and tossed his axe. The blade flew. The wrapping connecting it to Hammer Strike extended longer and longer until it reached the closest dragon, wrapping around one of the dragon’s necks twice. It dug its blade into the dragon’s side, and Hammer Strike pulled with a single savage tug. The creature’s wings attempted to resist. In an instant, the bones crumbled from the force, and the magical reptile plummeted toward the wrathful Pony. When it crashed into the ground, Hammer Strike gritted his teeth and willed the tethers to tighten.They reacted immediately, curling around the Dragon in a spiral from neck to tail, then rapidly becoming tighter and tighter. They pushed against its scales, constricted it, and then, like a hot knife through butter, the tethers cut through scale and flesh alike. The body came apart in several meaty pieces with a showering spray of blood.
The crimson display was made all the more frightening by the red fog that shrouded their opponent as a result of vaporizing the blood that should have coated him. A deep purple light blazed in the heart of that fog, and both Dragons knew what had caused that color to shift. They were in over their heads. The other Dragons would have to be warned. This was a threat that would require all their combined might. Pride and greed would have to be set aside for the greater good of their survival. If they lost face before the other Dragons, so be it.
Hammer Strike looked at the fleeing Dragons but made no visible effort to stop them. There was no need to. Instead, he exerted just the barest flicker of will.
Both dragons dropped from the sky screaming as they clutched their chests. Their fire sacks erupted in pain that slowly seeped into their entire bodies. Heat unlike anything they'd ever thought possible played through their systems. White-hot flames poked and prodded their nervous systems. Somehow, their consciousnesses never faded as the scales above their hearts blackened and cracked from the heat, falling to ash as the smell of burnt flesh filled the air. It wasn’t until their chests were mostly burned away that death finally claimed them.
Hammer Strike didn’t give them another thought. He had bigger fish to fry.
Binding doubled over the table as he finished pouring tea for Yharon. His magic blazed, and the teapot shattered. The steaming liquid boiled into vapor that filled the room with the scent of fresh herbs and tea leaves. He gasped as he struggled to rein in the sudden surge of power.
Celestia looked on in concern at the stallion who had been at least in part their teacher over the years. “Binding? Are you all right?”
Binding shuddered as his body was wrapped in a magical aura. “Oh. My. Lord,” he said through gritted teeth. “What did they do to you?”
“Binding?” Yharon’s voice was gentle as he lay propped against the pillows. “What’s going on? Is Father all right?”
“Your father is fine,” Clover said in a rare soft tone as she stroked Yharon’s head gently. “He’s just sending a message.”
Yharon blushed. “Mother, I’m not a hatchling anymore….”
“She’s not patronizing you,” Ainz said. His voice held a strange quiver to it, though being a skeleton, his mood was generally impossible to read. “Though I fear so much power may change him.”
“Change him how, exactly?” Luna pressed
“He’s using power up to if not exceeding the twelfth order,'' Ainz explained. “He’s on the brink of transcending mortality entirely. In the state he’s in…” Ainz trailed off for a moment in thought as his glowing eyes dimmed. Then his bones clacked as he shuddered and the orbs resumed their usual intensity. “He’d be something truly terrible.”
“Is there nothing to be done?” Celestia asked.
“Pray for a miracle?” Ainz suggested with an ironic chuckle. “There isn’t a mage alive who could do anything about this. There wouldn’t be one anyway. He’s been beyond our ilk for a very long time.”
“And if he does change?” Yharon asked.
“Pray he remembers who we are.”
“Should we ask for Scar and Anderson to pray as well?”
“I’d suggest getting as many as you can started on it. Use invocation if you have anyone who can,” Anderson said. “Who knows? You might get a response before Dragons become an extinct species.” He winced at the sensation of many more dragons falling to the abyss. “Though I doubt it.”
Yharon frowned. “I never prayed to him before. I don’t really know how. But … if we do need to get gods involved, I can try to ask Bahamut, I suppose.”
“It certainly couldn’t hurt,” Binding said. Then he sighed. “That, and try to send our good will to your father directly. Whatever will help him to keep his sanity.”
The whole TARDIS control console was surrounded in static as monitor after monitor flickered, jumped, buzzed, and then faded into that familiar speckled gray that was almost more dreaded than the blue screen of death.
“Oi, oi, oi, what’s all this, then?” The Doctor’s hackles were immediately raised as he raced around the console and began to check the wiring and other parts of the ship’s inner workings.
“Something we’re not supposed to see?” Grif asked.
“If she didn’t want us to see it, she would have cut the feed entirely. This is something else.”
“As great as she is, it’s not just her that decides,” Grif said.
At that moment, the static flickered into solidity again, and Vital Spark gaped with Pensword at the sight. A burbling blue mass tinged with black and purple writhed around the Earth Pony. At one moment, it jabbed from his forehead in a massive spike that twirled before snapping back into the mass. At another point, it seemed almost as though he’d grown another set of legs. Wings shifted between the webbed leathery build of a bat and the sleek feathers of a bird. Rivulets of the power flowed back from his eyes in a miasma startlingly similar to a certain Pony of Shadows.
Grif swore in Phrench. “He’s gotta be riding the knife's edge right now.”
“Sweet mother of God.” Pensword winced as Grif and Vital Spark both whipped their heads in his direction. “This looks like he's teetering between angel and demon.”
“I’m afraid the stakes may be a step or two higher than that,” The Doctor commented.
Pensword whipped his own head back at the Time Lord. “Are you talking about Pantheon levels?”
The Doctor nodded. “Time Lords don’t develop the phenomenon called a divine spark, but we have witnessed it. Enough power, and pop!” He made a popping sound with his hoof and his lips. “Instant recipe for new divine. Problem is how it happens can have irreparable effects on the being they become.” He gestured to the image on screen. “And what kind of god do you figure is born of rage like that?”
“To quote a certain scientist, ‘Now I am become Death, destroyer of worlds,” Vital said. Then he sighed and shook his head.
“Surely he won’t … actually become that, though, right?” Rarity asked. “I mean, he ruled over Equestria for centuries after this. Someone or something must have intervened.”
“Rarity, how many angry gods of destruction does Equestria have in the present?” Grif said. “Because I haven’t noticed any.”
“You know, Grif, it might have been better to give her assurance instead of sarcasm,” Vital noted.
“Well, actually, that would have been how my human father would have answered the question,” Pensword countered. “But yes, Rarity, I am sure something will come in and save the day.” He frowned, “I’d eat my hat if it is anything less than divine at this moment.” Pensword grumped and finally sighed. “I’m starting to get used to this concept of us interacting with the demigod level, even if we are not demigods ourselves.”
“If you want to change the world,” Grif shrugged, “you need to mess with the powers that be.”
“Yeah…. We have gained the attention,” Pensword responded by running a wing over part of the TARDIS. “Some of them are nicer to us than others.”
Twilight looked to the console. She swore one of the red lights blinked at her aggressively. “Some of us, anyway.”
“Next time, ask,” Pensword tweaked back. “How’d you like it if someone wanted to poke inside your body without asking you first or even having proper training?” He shivered as he ran a hoof down his chest.
“Anyway, something tells me we’re not going to see a lot from this.” Grif gestured to the screen, which was still frozen on the loop of Hammer Strike. “Come on, Pensword. You’re up.” Grif turned to leave for the training area.
“Sounds good. I need to work off some emotions that this brought up. Another day and I think we can go up another notch in training.”
“Yeah, then I can take the kiddy gloves off,” Grif commented back. “And train you like I train Rarity. Who knows? Maybe by the time we’re done, I can train Twilight like I train you,” Grif commented as the door closed.
“Did grif imply he takes it easy on me?” Twilight asked with a raised eyebrow.
“No, because you never lost your edge. I lived long enough that I lost my first edge, so I need to get back to my former proficiency. Grif is a good teacher to know where a student is on the curve,” Pensword finished, then waved as he followed the Gryphon out.
Step after step, hoard after hoard, kill after kill, Hammer Strike carried on. He neither ate nor slept. The cold clarity of his rage sustained him, and the life he leached from the land fueled his body. Those Dragons who dared to challenge him were silenced swiftly, brutally. Those who fled died in agony. There was no mercy left to give. A buffet of his ghostly wings wrenched the flyers from the sky. A stomp of his shod hooves forced the dragons of the earth from their hiding places as the very land itself bent to his will, literally gut-punching them out of their holes.
One glare sent not daggers, but scalding heat that not even the great beasts of legend could withstand. Scales erupted as searing white fluid burst to melt and fuse their scales and flesh. Whole chunks of their bodies were cast off like so much slag, revealing glowing bone that clawed imploringly beneath before falling limp with neither nerve nor tissue nor ligament to move them. A lash of the whip-like protrusions from his weapon shattered the structure and reduced one of the strongest magical substances to exist on Equis to fragments, and then to dust.
Cascades of gemstones and geodes exploded as magma forced new vents into existence, spreading lava flow after lava flow, pooling around what few skeletal remains were intact. It was as though the very land itself was sickened. And yet, it still changed. And it still obeyed the Earth Pony’s slightest whim.
“Where are you?” he asked as he continued his trek. “Where are you hiding?” The blue energies licked in tight concentration around his body, but the flames had long since disappeared from sight, though their effect and their presence had not. He followed his own path like a bloodhound on the trail. The will of the contract itself guided him. And he didn’t care what happened to the other Dragons on his way. Burning, choking, vivisecting, disemboweling. Whatever punishment they received, whatever pain they might endure, the outcome was always and would always be the same. He would cull them. They would die.
They would all die.
And every scream that carried over those lands was a death knell to the betrayer.
Two great wings spread from behind a mountain as Hammer Strike approached. Then came another pair, and another, and yet another circling the peaks from whence a continuous stream of smoke ascended. Whatever lay beyond was precious enough for the Dragons to stand their ground, rather than flee the Pony’s wrath.
There were few things that could draw such unity from these creatures.
They were fortunate he had bigger prey to challenge. Rather than continue what would prove to be an exceptionally long search, Hammer Strike willed the earth to rise again, taking him with it until he was high enough to project even over the hills and mountains that his rage had forced into creation. He channeled his will into his voice and amplified it to carry over the Dragon Lands.
“Derazul, by my command, come forth and receive your punishment!”
The power that surged from the Pony was invisible, but palpable as it spread over every rock and crevice of the rapidly changing landscape. Far in the distance, a pained roar more akin to a snarl echoed on the winds. Many more followed, mingled with swearing and curses. Hammer Strike remained as he stared implaccably over the landscape.
And then he came. The elder had only grown larger in the passing years. His body had contorted into a twisted form coated in jagged spikes of bone and horn as layer upon layer of protective scales built over his body. His eyes glowed with malice and a primal hunger outmatched only by the bravado of outrage. This time, he didn’t have to be dragged to the ground to see eye-to-eye with Hammer Strike.
He didn’t have to be. But he was anyway. The land shook with tremors at the force of his impact as the same force that had bound him so many years ago took hold once again. Derazul snarled and roared and thrashed to no avail. “You were supposed to be dead!”
“I do not fall so easily,” Hammer Strike replied flatly. “And you were meant to obey the contract.”
Derazul spat at the tower supporting the Pony. Rather than acknowledge his fault, he endeavored to change the subject. “How did you know my name?”
“I can feel it. Every fiber of my being can sense every source of life and know each name. Know this, Derazul.” Hammer Strike couldn’t help but let a smile pass. “After I snuff out your life and damn you to whatever afterlife Bahamut sends you to, I’ll ensure that every Dragon following your fate knows that it was you who brought this upon them all.”
Derazul lashed out with his claws and broke the pillar. He sneered as he watched the structure sway, then ultimately begin to fall. He roared in triumph. “Die!”
Though the tower fell, Hammer Strike remained in his spot, hovering in the air above. He continued as if nothing had happened. “I hope you receive every punishment befitting your failure.”
The straps struck like divine lightning, wrapping, melting, searing as they continued to lengthen until they surrounded the creature entirely. They squeezed, then loosened, then squeezed again, revealing the dark marks where they had harmed the creature. Derazul grit his teeth and bore through it as long as he could before he finally raised his neck and roared in pain. And that was when the last strap took its place and began to squeeze, simultaneously constricting the Dragon’s windpipe, even as it burned.
Derazul’s eyes widened. His tongue thrashed wildly as he gurgled and choked. The barest hints of flame could barely be seen as it struggled to reach his mouth, only to be stopped by the shrunken airway. Tighter and tighter, hotter and hotter. The whites of the dragon’s eyes slowly turned red as oxygen was consumed and blood vessels burst. His thrashing shook the surrounding land structures, spreading fissures as the ground continued to warp and wither under the watchful gaze of the creature that had proved itself to be nigh unto a god.
Finally, and mercifully, Derazul’s eyes rolled back as the spinal column was exposed and ultimately severed, creating a clean cleave between the two parts of the body. The head and length of neck thundered with explosive force as the bone spurs dug into the soft earth. The rest of the body soon followed.
Derazul, Scourge of Equestria, Disgrace of the Dragon Lands, Conqueror of Many, Ruler of None, was dead.
Deep within the Astral Plane, Bahamut watched the destruction waged below. By all the laws of retribution, Hammer Strike had every right to claim his vengeance over the Dragons. He held the blessings of Sleipnir and the gratitude of Faust. And more than that, he had a divine covenant with Bonnie. All three of the deities who held the most sway over the world now stood behind Hammer Strike. And worse yet, though it hurt the god to admit, by his own nature, he could not interfere. He was bound to honor their fate.
But that did not mean he didn’t feel pain over it.
The plane rippled. Then a flash of light heralded the arrival of the creator goddess, she who had brought life to the world, and she who had encouraged that life to spread to all corners. Faust’s red mane glistened as it fluttered and ultimately lowered itself again. “Lord Bahamut,” she said by way of greeting.
“Lady Faust,” he responded with a nod of his head.
“I suppose I should get straight to the point. Why are you here, Bahamut?” She looked over the images that flowed through the stream of aether. To the eyes of the creatures on the mortal plane, Hammer Strike was sheathed by a nimbus of an unidentifiable magic. To their eyes, however, it was only too plain what was forming. With every kill, the Earth Pony stood a little taller, a little broader, and the sheer stress on that which had given him such power now led it near to the breaking point. So great was the Pony’s wrath that whirlpools began to form in the stream as the energies of the astral plane were drawn down and forcefully injected into the core of his being. At the rate he was going, Hammer Strike wouldn’t be a simple Pony for much longer. “He’s slaughtering them.”
“He warned them. He forgave them. They pushed him to this.” Bahamut sighed. “Tell me what I can do in this. How could I possibly stand vindicated and yet interfere?”
“If you don’t interfere, he’ll ascend here and now, and he’ll be trapped in this state for all of eternity. Perpetual wrath incarnate. That’s not what my children need or deserve. Father has seen where that path can lead. We’re all in agreement. His ascension must be stopped. And the only way is to quell his anger here and now with the one thing that can preserve them and him.”
“And what would you have me do?” Bahamut asked. “I have no right to intercede.”
“But intercede you must. Your children listen to you and your sister. And she doesn’t want to lose any more followers than she already has. Much though it may displease you, the two of you must put aside your differences to preserve what remains. A contract between your children and what they perceive to be a weak mortal is easily broken after a number of years. A contract between their gods, bound to their very essence, on the other hoof….”
Bahamut looked at her, and the gravity of the suggestion shone in his gaze. “You say that like such a contract is a small thing.”
Faust’s gaze was level as she pointed to Hammer Strike. “No. Small things are for small problems. This is a large thing to save the future of your children and all of Equis. I am not going to let this world suffer like Mother’s did. And neither are you, or so help me, you’ll have to wrath of two angry gods to worry about, as well as the guilt of this genocide!”
Bahamut sighed and averted his gaze to look once more on the carnage. “I cannot guarantee he will listen.”
“He’s a clever mortal. He knows more of the ways of gods than most. Have faith in his reason. And more importantly, have faith in his subjects. You hear them, don’t you?” With the lifting of a single wing, all of Unity and Equestria sprawled before their gazes. “Thousands upon thousands of souls are crying to me, my father, my mother.” She paused for a moment. When next she spoke, her voice was far softer. “And one in particular to you.” At her bidding, the window showing a familiar dragon with blazing feathers hovered before the god. “Do you not hear his cry, a cry made all the louder because of the sincerity and love that weigh behind it?”
‘I know I haven’t spoken to you before. I don’t know if I have a right to even make this request. But make it I do. I know he’s not a Dragon. I know he did not sire me. But he did raise me. And from what he told me, it was at your request. So, I’m asking you, please. If you honor him. If … if you love me the way I think you do. Bring my father back to me.’
The prayer resonated with Bahamut. Unlike many of his children, it was true and from the heart. He could feel the power in the words, and the conviction that lay behind them. With a sigh, he rose to his feet. “Lady Faust, I feel I may be in need of your assistance.”
Faust nodded grimly. “You shall have it, and the aid of my mother and father. As I said, this must end.”
“Then let us end it,” Bahamut said with a bitter smile.
Vengeance walked the earth, and all that remained was naught but dust and ash. Jagged peaks clawed desperately at the skies above, but no vegetation clothed them. Their beauty had long since been stripped. The jewels that had been so precious were gone. The nourishing metals and alloys that had spurred the greedy beasts’ growth were reduced to so much slag as they rejoined their mother earth in the lava flows. Craters filled with lava to become pools while smooth and fertile terrain rumbled, churned, and ultimately surged into craggy peaks with gaping maws.
Hammer Strike had followed his word to the letter. Not one stone was left untouched in all the Dragon Lands. The creatures that had worshipped their riches, their greed, their very lust, were culled to the point of near-extinction. Even those that were lesser and not so corroded by greed had fallen to his hoof. The rhythmic clop of an extra set of hooves would sometimes echo like the ghost of some unwanted specter. With every Dragon he dominated, the surge of power rushed from within. And eventually, the sensation became almost … pleasurable to him. War was no friend to him. But wrath, wrath had served him well. And he had rewarded it richly these last few days.
Once, he thought he heard the sobs of a little girl. But he knew no such thing existed. Not here. The hatchlings wouldn’t have been allowed to go into combat, let alone participate in a raid. No, the previous clutch was all grown up, which meant he could hunt to his heart’s content. And what better place to find his prey than the location where those very hatchlings waited to be born? The sobbing faded as he strode purposefully forward. His eyes glowed brighter as he scanned the horizons in search of his new prize.
The clop of heavy hooves on the ground was followed by the familiar scent of fresh grass and flowers. A circle of calm flooded the land around him, and the rustling of folding wings would have confirmed his deductions, even if he couldn’t sense the overwhelming power of her divine presence as he did now. Granted, it wasn’t nearly so overwhelming as he thought it might be. Or maybe he just didn’t care anymore. He shrugged the thought off. It was a distraction, just as Faust was being a distraction. But the least he could do was listen to her. She hadn’t wronged him, after all.
“Faust.” He acknowledged her audibly.
“Hammer Strike,” she returned. Her voice was grave, but there was an element of respect to it that felt deeper than the mere gratitude she had expressed when last they met. This was the voice of one addressing an equal. “You’ve been putting on quite the display,” she noted as she looked over the land.
“A contract broken. I gave them a few chances, but this time…” He paused, taking a breath. “This time will be the last.”
Faust sighed regretfully. “I understand going after the ones who wronged you. I just wish you could have left the surface be. I put a lot of effort into crafting this place.”
“Fuel, once for dragons’ greed, now for my energy.”
“And do you plan to leave this land dead forever?”
“Life will flourish once more, but not anytime soon.”
“And the remaining energy? What do you plan to do with it?”
“I am unsure. It responds to me, despite my lack of calling.”
“I have to ask you this, Hammer Strike, so I hope you’ll forgive me, but are you aware of the risk you’re putting your body through right now?”
“I fail to understand your question.”
“There’s a very real risk that you’ll unmake yourself, if you’re not careful. You’ll come back, but you won’t return the same.”
“I doubt your outlook.”
“Doubt it if you wish, but it’s true all the same. Ascension can be a very messy business.” She shuddered. “Which is why I’m going to do everything in my power to keep it from happening.” The ground rippled under their feet. “I’m sorry, Hammer Strike.” A beam of light struck from Faust’s horn, blinding the Earth Pony. A moment later, an immense force struck from above. He sensed the energy coming, but though he sought to push back against it and ultimately turn that force against its owner, something felt … wrong. Something warm and sticky flowed around his legs. He blinked just in time to see Faust’s blurry body hovering in the air before the force came again.
And this time, Faust joined her power to it.
It’s a curious sensation, being thrust into the earth. In most cases, it hurts. The face grates against rough dirt and solid rock. Friction guts and scars the face and anything else that drags hard enough. This earth, however, was liquid. And what lay beneath was far hotter. The natural luminescence of the fluid surrounding him gave the light he needed to see.
And see he did. A great underground cavern stretched before him, full of minerals and warmth, and that hidden potential he had sought time and again. Potential for talent, for magic, for strategy, for businesses. This one, this one held potential for new life. It also held the familiar figure of Bahamut as he hovered behind what, for all intents and purposes, appeared to be some sort of titanic spectral desk made solid in a world that should have reduced it to so much slag.
There were several things Hammer Strike would have liked to say, but looking at Bahamut made him bite his tongue. After a few seconds he sighed. “You’ve pulled some strings to get me here. I already know a few of your reasons, but I suppose we shall clear things up then?”
“I suppose we shall,” bahamut agreed. “Let’s start with what's happening right now.”
“I’m positive you already felt the binds of the contract break. I am doing what I had so warned them of.”
“And I acknowledge that.” Bahamut nodded. “I’m here to try and find some other way we can end this.”
“I sought methods of keeping them at bay, even going so far as to use their brethren as warnings. I made that contract as a method of ending this conflict before it could start, but they did not listen!”
“And if you had something stronger to bind them with?” Bahamut asked.
“I would have to renew a thaumic contract with every dragon to ever live every time one is born from henceforth for my methods. Something they would not agree to, even in their dying breaths.”
“I would have thought even in your anger you would know that was not the only way,” bahamut said. “There are ways to bind them that even they cannot control or stop.”
“And so I see the reason for you bringing me here. You wish to bind the contract.”
“I am their god and their maker. My authority exceeds their own, and a contract with me is unbreakable and unquestionable.”
“And should a method be found?”
“The offender shall simply no longer be considered a Dragon and exist outside the protection of me and my sister.”
Hammer Strike grit his teeth as he thought it over. After a few minutes, he sighed heavily. “And I am to assume you will ensure every Dragon within these lands hears of this, and ensure it is known from here onward?”
“I will give you something to make it undeniable.”
Hammer Strike raised a staying hoof. “Before that, what will the terms of this contract be?”
“You will not exterminate my people. In return, they will no longer act against you in any shape or form, including your country and those connected to you.”
Hammer Strike thought it over several times before he sighed once more. “I want each and every one of them to know this contract was made. Not just by some object officiating it.”
“So be it,” Bahamut said as he reached onto his back and tore free a scale far larger then any Hammer Strike had collected. It stood broad and tall enough to cover the Pony completely. With a claw bahamut scrawled the contract onto it, burning it with his own fire. When it was finished, he placed it before Hammer Strike to inspect.
Hammer Strike scanned over every inch of the contract to ensure no loopholes could exist within its current state before he nodded. “It’s acceptable.”
“So let it be.” Bahamut nodded, his voice echoing and rolling across the Dragon lands. He spread his wings wide as knowledge of the contract and what it pertained filled every Dragon. “And any who would defy this will shall be at your mercy.”
Hammer Strike took a moment and once again attempted to calm himself. The calm from before was that forced by rage that had overflowed its bounds. Now, he had to rein that in. It wasn’t easy, however. Having just come from war, and then losing a number of his subjects had already caused a severe spike. The Dragons’ actions tipped things farther than he had ever felt.
“It will take time,” Bahamut said simply.
“It doesn’t help that it feels like my field has exceeded its capacity.”
“You have no idea,” Bahamut said.
Hammer Strike continued to slowly push the excess energy out of his field back into the lands around him, but it was a slow-going process. He frowned and calculated out how long it would be. “I ... I don’t think I can return like this.”
“It would likely be dangerous to return to your lands as you are,” the Dragon god agreed.
He sighed. “I suppose I was to remain here for the contract in any case.” He looked to Bahamut. “Where do we begin?”
“We begin by figuring out how to control Dragons.” Bahamut sighed.
Hammer Strike blinked a few times as he thought things over when he remembered one of the Alicorn artifacts. One would always resonate within him when he ordered things forcefully. Placing a hoof on his chest he willed the artifact to come forward, and soon held a small golden gemstone in his hoof. “Perhaps this could help.”
“One of the solar tears?” bahmut said, taken aback. “How do you have this?”
“Solar tear?” Hammer Strike questioned. “I stumbled across them in the Alicorn Empire.”
Bahamut stared at Hammer Strike flatly for several minutes. “You’ve had more than one of these, and you never knew what they were?”
“They answered me in a time of need, and I suppose it just never crossed my mind.”
“You are aware of the embodiments?”
“I am, yes.”
“And the peculiar attitude of this world's sun and moon?”
“There’s technically two points about that, but yes.”
“Every universe has embodiments of a type,” Bahamut began. “They naturally exist to keep things in balance. When one is killed, another takes its place. This is normally how things are done. Unfortunately, there are ways to destroy even them. In this world, it happened to the sun and moon.”
“Thus needing an external source to move them…” Hammer Strike hummed in thought.
“When they were destroyed, bits of their own power were broken away and crystalized, forming ten objects of power. These objects, in turn, grasped bits and pieces of the things people had attributed to the sun and moon at the time. What you hold is Command, the crystal that allows its user to influence the will of others.”
“That … certainly explains a few things.”
“These stones have a tendency to avoid those who seek power. Few, if any, have held more than one.”
“I … may have held them all, at one point.” Hammer Strike hummed. “Not for long, and admittedly my memory of some of those events is a bit … lacking.”
Bahamut seemed speechless at that point, staring blankly at the Earth Pony.
“I once said I would do anything in my power to protect those around me.” Hammer Strike looked Bahamut in the eyes. “No matter the cost it may be to me.”
“Well,” Bahamut said, taking the gem. “With some work, I think we can use this to make that happen.”
“I’d certainly hope so.”
Hammer Strike sighed to himself as he continued on his walk out of the Dragonlands. It had been nearly four months since the incident. On his back was a positively giant platinum scale so large that it hung over his back like the top of a table. The side that was up was highly polished, despite the ridges of a dragon scale playing across it. The downward facing side was less shiny and polished. Scrawled across it in Draconic were the words of the contract, a literal divine mandate from Bahamut himself, between Hammer Strike and all Draconic beings. Hammer Strike had taken a small bit of Yggdrasil root and attached it to the back, forming a handle. This had worked better then expected, as the wood proceeded to grow into the scale and formed a handle that could vanish and appear at Hammer Strike’s own will.
It took time for him to dissipate the energy, more so than usual, due to the nature of said energy. He was able to gather the fact that he was on the verge of ascending through the means of his own divine seed. He was never sure if he had one, but it certainly made sense, the more he thought about his past.
In the time he was there, he managed to assist Bahamut in creating a scepter that could channel the energy of the artifact. There would be one to rule over the Dragons that would know of the contract no matter the case. It helped that the artifact still called out for him even after his departure, resulting in it swaying for him despite their separation.
“You're on your way back?” Lord’s voice came through.
“Yes,” Hammer Strike replied. “I’m on my way home.”
“You’ve had quite the experience,” Lord noted. “Is everything okay?”
“I’ll manage. The amount of energy I took in has had its effects.”
“Should I inform your people about anything? They have been asking about you.”
“Please do so.”
“I’d say have a safe journey, but we both know that won’t be an issue for you,” Lord said.
Hammer Strike sighed to himself as he continued his way home. It didn’t take long before the landscape shifted to its familiar sightings. Fields, an occasional tree here and there, the walls to Unity, few buildings, the giant castle, the newly built houses.
“Hold on a minute.” Hammer Strike blinked as he scanned over the horizon once again. He was certain he was heading to Unity. He understood that some buildings wouldn’t look the same anymore, since they had to be rebuilt. The castle, however, was completely out of nowhere.
“For crying out loud.” Hammer Strike sighed. “Why not a new cabin? You had to go straight to a castle?” he muttered to himself.
“It was the people's will,” Lord commented. “You knew they wanted you to have a palace for a while now. You no longer have the cabin, so Clover was unable to talk them down.”
“Yeah, yeah.” He frowned as he neared the gate.
“Sir!” The two guarding the gate instantly went to attention with a salute.
“At ease,” he replied dismissively before stopping. “I’ve missed a lot, haven’t I?”
“A lot can happen in a year, my lord,” one of the two said. “Magus Binding was very quick to hire an architect after the attack. With everyone putting in, the rebuild was quick and easy.”
“And you all picked a castle.” Hammer Strike looked at it in the distance. “I suppose it was on the priority list, though I swear it was much farther down on that list.”
“Sir, after the foundries and the reinforced walls and towers, there weren’t many priorities left on the list”
“Fair enough.” He sighed. “Fair enough.”
“Should we inform Lady Clover of your arrival?” the other guard asked.
“She knows,” Hammer Strike replied with a shrug. “Considering the amount of energy I output recently, I’m pretty sure it’s going to be hard to hide my presence like I used to.”
“Very well.” The guards nodded. “Is there anything else you require from us?”
“That should be it. keep up the good work,” Hammer Strike replied as he continued on his way.
A blue bolt surged through the air, kicking up eddies of dust and pebbles behind before connecting with the much taller and stronger Earth Pony. Forelegs wrapped around Hammer Strike’s neck as Luna squeezed him with all the strength she could muster.
“Father, you have returned!” Luna hugged even harder. “I missed you so much.”
“I can certainly tell.” Hammer Strike chuckled as he returned the hug. “When should I expect the other tackle attempts?”
“I think I’m a little too big for tackle attempts anymore.” Yharon strode across the yard with Celestia at his side. He smiled lovingly at the stallion that had raised him and wrapped a feathered wing around Hammer Strike’s back. “Welcome back, Father.”
Celestia chuckled. “I hope you two left enough room for me in there.”
“His other side isn’t taken just yet,” Yharon noted. A few moments later, it was almost like the old days when the four had been on their own.
Hammer Strike smiled. “I certainly needed this.”
“You're not angry at us?” Luna asked.
“What for?”
“The castle,” she clarified.
“I’m sure Clover and Binding ensured everything I would have wanted out of the public eye remained as such.”
“They did,” Harmony said as she materialized in front of the lord. “And I know this goes without saying, but don’t you dare scare me like that again!”
“I’ll try,” Hammer Strike replied softly. “Yeah, I’m saddened that we lost the cabin, but I suppose everyone’s been trying to get me into a castle, anyway.”
“We both know you’re only saying that to deny Clover the satisfaction,” Harmony noted.
“It does give us more room to store things, and our own separate labs,” Yharon noted.
“Also, larger grounds for training recruits,” Luna added.
“And a kitchen fit for a slew of kings,” Celestia finished. Then she smirked. “And some rather exceptional forges.”
“If only they could compare,” Hammer Strike noted softly. “That’s good to hear.”
“You’ll at least praise the builders, won’t you?” Celestia asked. “They worked so hard on it.”
“Oh, of course. Just because my forge is one of the best ones I’ve ever owned doesn’t mean there can’t be good ones elsewhere.” Hammer Strike chuckled.
“Same old Father.” Yharon chuckled. “Mother’s been waiting to see you. I think she’s in the throne room.”
“As theatrical as ever,” Hammer Strike replied as they entered the castle together.
The throne room was a large half circular room. A rug of blue with gold leaf lining the edges had been rolled across the length of it, coming to the foot of a raised dais. Banners bearing Celestia, Luna, and Starlight Bulwark’s cutie marks, as well as imagery of a red serpentine dragon coiled around a bright purple flame, hung from the walls where the dais was. A few feet from the lip, a second dais rose onto the first. To the side hung a banner bearing Clover’s mark, and that of three diamonds in blue and white.
At the center of the dais, where the throne and heraldry of the king would sit, nothing yet stood except Clover smiling at him. Behind her were two regular windows overlooking Unity. And between them, a single stained glass window bearing Hammer Strike’s cutie mark. Ten pillars lined the far walls, five to a side. Between each pillar, banners bore marks of Binding and Ainz, House Hurricane, the symbol of the United Thestral Chieftains, the Earth Pony knights, the Mage Corp, and numerous others of Hammer Strike’s loyal followers. Under the banner of House Hurricane even hung a portrait of Commander Stormwing Hurricane painted by Hammer Strike’s own hoof. Aside from this, curtains and rugs of blue and gold lay around the room, but it was otherwise bare.
“I managed to convince them you’d prefer to make your own throne and banner,” Clover said. “Everything else was non-negotiable.”
“Well, at least you gave me that,” Hammer Strike gave a brief chuckle as he walked over to her and embraced her. “I’m finally home.”
“Took you long enough,” she said, holding him close. “They were about to start trying to call me Princess Regent.”
“You prefer queen, then?” Hammer Strike gave a faint smile.
“You won’t let them call you Your Majesty. Why the hell should I have to?”
“Sooner or later it’s just going to happen.” He chuckled softly. “We’re finally free of the threat of Dragons.”
“And Gryphons for now.” Clover smiled. “And other problems we don’t need.”
“I can’t do that again.” Hammer Strike shook his head. “I refrained from taking powers when moving the sun and moon before, but that… I was losing myself in my rage. It may take tens of thousands of years before the Dragonlands recover from what I’ve done to them.”
“Then let it serve to remind anyone who’d attack Unity,” Clover said harshly. “You may have hatched him, but he’s my son, too.”
“I know you and the others felt what happened. From what I was able to gleam from Bahamut, I nearly ascended beyond mortality.”
“Hey, none of that!" she teased. “We agreed, remember? We both get to die. None of this ‘living forever’ stuff everyone thinks is so great.”
“Well, we’ve certainly got some length of time to go before we get there.” He chuckled. “I’m almost worried that Celestia, Luna, and Yharon would attempt resurrection if we perished. Though I’m certain Ainz wouldn’t let that come to pass.”
“Would Death even try to bring you back, if you didn’t want to go?” Clover asked with a raised eyebrow.
“He’s tried doing it the other way once or twice, but I’m sure he learned that lesson.” Hammer Strike glanced over to the side.
“Still, you have work to do,” Clover said. “You have a kingdom now. You need a banner, a throne, and some kind of crown jewels.”
“I think I have an idea for those.” He reached towards the scale on his back and placed it down before Clover. “A fitting piece for a throne, radiant in power as it is.”
“it … is it thaumic?” Clover asked. Her eyes widened as she examined its energy.
“To a point, it is. A scale from Bahamut, with a contract enforced by divine means and thaumic nature.”
“A contract from a god, written on a piece of said god?” Clover asked almost in awe as she examined it.
“To keep me from killing the rest, he requested a contract to save what remained. They wouldn’t listen to a mortal Pony, but they won’t ignore their god. Should one find a way to circumvent the contract, they are no longer a Dragon, and will be exiled as such.”
“This is definitely a start.” Clover laughed. “I almost fear for whatever dignitaries come to see you here. The sheer power this radiates would make most Unicorns delirious.”
“It will ensure that every nation in the world thinks twice about their actions against us.”
“I can see that.” She nodded. “Hurricane would be ecstatic.” She gave him a grim smile.
Hammer Strike returned it as he bathed in the love of his family. “I’m positive of that.”
“It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” Hammer Strike questioned aloud. He was within a meeting room dedicated to his meeting with the inner circle. “I think it would be best to clear things up in a meeting like this, settle any concerns that may have appeared due to recent events.”
“Not sure what there is to be concerned about,” Ainz noted.
“You’re back and your regular self again,” Binding agreed. “So long as we haven’t lost you, there’s nothing to worry about.”
“If anything, we can rest easier knowing where we stand,” Lord added.
“And the fact that any Dragon that attempts to do anything even remotely harmful to Equestria will die certainly adds to our overall security. That’s one less threat,” Binding said.
“There will eventually be some that manage to circumvent the contract, but we will deal with them swiftly.” Hammer Strike nodded.
“We’ll need to start sending out relief teams to some of the outer towns, maybe set up some border stations,” Clover noted. “But we’ve managed to come out of two major conflicts relatively intact.”
“Definitely.” Hammer Strike hummed. “Beyond that, it’ll just be back to standard management. Well, as standard as things can get, that is.”
“So, a few decades’ worth of peace before another bloody conflict?” Anderson asked.
“Hopefully longer, but we will see as things move forward.”
“I assume we’ll also be taking advantage of the peace to upgrade defenses in each of our various settlements and prepare for diplomatic relations with the outside world?” Binding asked.
“You would be correct. While defenses were made across the kingdom, they all pale in comparison to Unity. While we will be unlikely to reach the same level for every city, it would be best to at least fortify and/or enhance already made fortifications.”
“Should we put together build teams?” Ainz asked.
Hammer Strike nodded in return.
“Is there anything we should know?” Clover asked.
“Now that I think about it, I don’t believe I updated everyone on the situation up north, did I?”
Clover shook her head.
“I … somewhat have rule over the Crystalline Research Facility, or now, the Crystal Empire.” Hammer Strike sighed. “For now. They’ll be self-ruling later down the line. But until that time comes, they need someone to manage them.”
“What did you have in mind?” Binding asked.
“I’ll just have to take trips occasionally to update everything over there and alter a few tasks. Nothing major. So be prepared for me to depart for a week or two at a time for the north.”
“I think we can manage that,” Hurricane said.
“All right, anything else that needs to be covered from my absence?” Hammer Strike questioned the group.
“There is the matter of casualty reports from the war. Also, we’ve managed to establish diplomatic ties with the Kirin and certain Buffalo herds. It may be of some benefit to send some delegates to maintain those ties, if possible, at a later date,” Hurricane noted.
“Noted.” Hammer Strike nodded.
The next three decades were peaceful ones. The complete lack of any Gryphon or Dragon aggression allowed Equestria the opportunity to truly flourish. Not only were they able to tend to village defenses and other necessary matters, but the monster hunting guild had blossomed into a proper and well-established organization. Undead, demons, shades, and many more were tracked, trapped, and systematically dispatched. The job still carried its risks with a high mortality rate, but overall, the plan was working.
Hammer Strike ruled benevolently and justly with his wife by his side, and his children to support him. However, as in all things involving such victories and success, word eventually gets out, and reputation draws attention. This particular truth fell hard on the former lord, now king, when he received multiple missives from the various kingdoms of both continents.
And though Hammer Strike despised such meetings, he knew the necessity of building allies for the kingdom and helping to establish ties that would further strengthen Equestria for the ages to come after he inevitably returned to the present. To that end, and with a little assistance from Mimir’s silver tongue, messages of acceptance were distributed with invitations for a proper summit, so that the leaders would all have the chance to not only meet Hammer Strike, but to also know each other.
Kirin, Buffalo, Centaur, Gargoyle, Zebra, Horse, and even a new race of feline creatures that called themselves Abyssians. The parties each gathered with their entourages or escorts in the new throne room, where their host and potential new ally waited for them by the dais.
Hammer Strike sat on the throne, his throne. Inch by inch, it shone in multiple hues as scales of all colors and sizes took in the light from behind him. The massive silvery scale that formed the backrest thrummed loudly with power as he leaned against it. The entire throne was close to five feet taller than Hammer Strike himself, rising to form a single flat ridge. The other scales had been attached to some unseen frame in a cohesive pattern that left very little open space. It wasn’t until one looked upon the armrest that they got an idea of the macabre nature of the frame. Long skeletal dragon fingers hung down from the armrests, each topped with wide curved talons. Hammer Strike ran his hoof across the knuckle bones of the right side slowly, causing the fingers to reflexively tap in sequence.
Clack
clack
clack
clack
Clack
Hammer Strike eyed them from the simple blue cushion that seemed to be the only piece not made from Dragon. Of course, if they looked closer, they might have realized the cushion was made of wing membrane.
“Welcome, delegates of each nation.” Hammer Strike sat upright. “Welcome to Unity. I hope your journeys here weren’t rough.”
A tall stallion stepped forward and bowed to show his respect. “Salaam, Your Majesty. I believe I speak for all when I say thank you for your hospitality and invitation. It was … most unexpected.”
“I thought it best to ensure we have positive relations between ourselves,” Hammer Strike noted. “To ensure that we all understand each other.”
“Is this an intimidation tactic?” The Gargoyle matriarch hovered in the air and folded her arms as her golden dress flowed down her body. Her pale white form looked as though it had been carved from solid marble, and a delicate circlet wrapped around her head embedded with various gems.
“If I had wanted to be intimidating, trust me, I could do that much easier,” Hammer Strike replied simply. “No, I planned on keeping things civil.”
“Then what is your intent?”
“To develop relations between all of our nations, or at the very least, determine the current outlook.”
“And what is it that you would propose?” the Kirin representative asked.
“So long as our stampeding grounds aren’t disturbed, we see no reason for quarrel,” the Buffalo chief said.
“That is good to hear.” Hammer Strike nodded. “What I would propose is the standard things one would expect. Trade, freedom of movement, things of similar nature. Of course, we would discuss things further before agreements could be made.”
“Of course.” The Centaur king nodded. “It only makes sense.”
“Our people are not opposed to establishing ties to others, provided you are willing to tolerate our traditions and culture,” the Zebrican delegate said. “Did you have a particular place where you wished to hold discussions? It may be difficult to crane our necks for too long looking up to your throne.”
Hammer Strike stood. “Of course. If you would all follow me.”
“Hammer Strike, we need to talk,” Ainz’s voice spoke up from their bond.
“What’s up?” Hammer Strike questioned, placing his quill off to the side.
“It seems a threat has surfaced, one who seemingly has been hiding his presence for a while now.”
“That’s problematic if you’re bringing it up.” Hammer Strike hummed. “I take it you have an idea of who they are?”
“Yes, another lich, and a demon, a ram who has recently finished wiping his entire city off the map.”
“Does this entity go by the name Grogar?”
“How did you guess?”
“Bonnie’s got a contract for you. She wants it dead.”
“Well, that saves me having to ask permission to hunt this creature down.” Ainz chuckled.
“You’re clear to take as much time as you need to deal with this. And if assistance is needed, ask whoever you will.”
“Shall I destroy everything or would you prefer me to bring any artifacts or notes to you?”
“I leave those choices to you.”
“I’ll set out as soon as my preparations are finished, then.”
“Is there anything you require from myself?”
“No. Your permission was enough.”
“Keep me updated,” Hammer Strike replied as he returned to his paperwork.
Hammer Strike hummed as he looked over the materials list within the Unity forge. Luna was off to the side checking them over and giving him an accurate count to mark down. “Iron ingots?”
“Check. Seven hundred,” Luna said a moment later.
“Steel?”
“Check. Four hundred ingots”
“Cobalt?” Hammer Strike marked the list.
“A hundred and fifty ingots,” Luna clicked. “Workable, but rather low.”
Hammer Strike hummed. “I’ll have to alert the Diamond Dogs about keeping an eye out for it. All right, how about silver?”
“Check. Four hundred ingots.”
“Ebony?”
“...” Luna looked into the stores and counted again. “Twenty ingots,” she said. “That seems too low.”
“That is too low.” Hammer Strike frowned as he lowered the list. “We should have at least ninety-five. We’ll have to restock that immediately, given the need for it in the production list.”
“Where can we get enough on short notice?”
“I suppose I can tap into my personal supply,” Hammer Strike hummed. “I’ll have to go to my forge.”
“Your mysterious forge.” Luna smirked somewhat sourly.
“Indeed.” Hammer Strike chuckled.
“I don’t suppose I could see it finally?” Luna asked.
Hammer Strike paused and hummed. “Well, I suppose we aren’t in a rush,” he reasoned. “Sure. Why not?”
“Really?” Luna asked excitedly.
“You just have to do one thing.”
“Yes?”
“Close your eyes, and don’t ask too many questions,” Hammer Strike replied as he pulled out his waystone.
Luna instantly shut her eyes.
Hammer Strike shook his head gently as he opened the rift to enter his forge. “All right, take five steps forward, then stop.” He watched as Luna entered the gate and followed behind, closing it behind him. “And open your eyes.”
Luna opened her eyes which proceeded to widen as she took the entirety of Hammer Strikes workshop in.
“Welcome to my forge.”
“It’s amazing,” Luna breathed as she looked around.
“You haven’t even seen the best part.” Hammer Strike chuckled as he brought her over to one of the ‘walls.’ “Now, what was the material we needed again, and how much?”
“We needed seventy-five ebony ingots,” Luna noted as suddenly from out of the blackness, a stack of said ingots emerged.
“Slowly resupplying stockpile.” Hammer Strike smirked. “That, or I have to trade some special materials.”
“How did you get all this?” Luna asked.
“I … did some trading. In particular, with an unbreakable anvil.”
“I suppose that would be very valuable.” Luna nodded, still in awe.
“I can also do more with this forge, such as dilate the time difference between here and home.”
“That's why you’ve gotten so much work done in so little time,” Luna said as she put things together.
“That on top of my standard work speed.”
“So this is where you created your weapons?”
“Most of them, yeah.”
“And the tree root, that's where you’ve been getting the wood?”
“The root of a world tree.” Hammer Strike smiled. “More powerful than you’d expect.”
“I can feel it,” Luna said as she approached the root.
“It also regrows over time, which is exceptionally useful.”
“I can see why you’ve kept this a secret. The ramifications are … staggering.”
“Now, I’ve slowed things down back home, would you like a go at it?”
“You’re serious?” Luna asked him.
Hammer Strike smiled. “Free rein. Make it count.”
Giggling like a school filly, Luna immediately got to work.
Yharon sat on his haunches and raised his hands as he closed his eyes in the rock quarry outside the bounds of the castle. He breathed steadily as he brought his will to bear. Twelve of his mother’s exercise spheres lay in a circle around him. Their black surfaces were polished and smooth to the point of reflecting like mirrors.
“Very well. Let’s get this started.” He flapped his wings and they glowed with fiery light. The orbs were enveloped in his magical aura and rose, but rather than increase in weight, these instead began to develop a series of runic formulae that spun in circles around the spheres. With the motion of his hands, each of the ribbons began to unfurl and expand, but rather than the fiery orange and red, these were a cool blue that twirled and spun faster and faster as they expanded, until the matrices ran like the spindles and spokes of a gyroscope. Then, at last, they snapped into equilibrium and lowered themselves to the ground beneath the dragon. Twelve layers of enchantment circled clockwise and counterclockwise in perfect harmony. “So far, so good,” he muttered. “Note to self, make sure to write down notes on this for future use.”
He fully extended his wings and stood on all fours. “Come rock and stone, come silt and sieve, from musty crag and open cave, from darkest depths beneath the mines, come forth into the open skies. I bid you come. I bid you walk. I bid you live. I bid you talk. I bid you come into the light to lend to us your earthly might, to safeguard all the innocent from evil’s blast and ill intent, from those filled with malevolence, arise, arise and be content to safely guard from malcontent.
“To topaz with your knowledge now with thunder surge on enemy’s brow. Cool sapphire I now entreat, wash shadow’s filth from all our streets. Oh ruby with your passion bright, you’ll slay the fiery wyrms with might and should the enemy hold fast, defeat them with concussive blast. The emerald’s honor now entreats the earth and vegetation greet to bring to bear your mother’s might and set the scales of justice right. Amethyst, with color bright, magic shall be your birthright to focus when the world is black and bolster what your allies lack. Aquamarine, I say to thee to beat upon dishonesty and wear away the dark deceits as waves that break upon the sea. Diamond with your facets bright, cut sharper than the sharpest knife. Courage and will shall be your gifts with strength to match and to uplift. Peridot, good fortune’s tool, I give to you this single rule. Good luck to us and allies be. To foes, misfortune flows from thee. Opal, waiting at the gate will guard the mind and spirits’ fates. Garnet, bespelled stone of love will purify with sacred trust and spread your blessing through our homes, assuring that we are not alone. And last, but not least, Tanzanite, the gem which brings the second sight, a gift unto the Thestral be, to aid in their maturity and help those born with special souls to find their guides and take control of that gift born of ancient grace the goddess granted to their race. By the magics, come to me. So mote it will, so mote it be.”
With each invocation, the ring closest to him would light with the color of the stone he called. One by one, the circles changed, and the earth reacted in kind as dust arose and began to circle in a nimbus. The ground rumbled as chunks of earth emerged from the surrounding turf and the shafts of the mines to gather around the Dragon. When the final gem was invoked, and the last passage uttered, the farthest ring ignited with white light. The gyroscope formed yet again, rose, and was suddenly broken apart as the spindles went their separate ways and bound themselves to the amalgamations of rock and precious gemstone, imbuing them with the gift of life.
Sweat dripped from the dragon’s feathers as he panted on the ground. The exertion had been greater than anticipated, but the deed had been done. Already, he could feel the soothing effects of the golems pouring into him. He waited for a half an hour to gather his strength before he finally rose to his feet and returned the orbs to his satchel. Then he looked to the golems themselves. “Come along. There are some people I want you to meet.”
The golems followed obediently behind their maker, and they departed from the grounds, the only signs of their birthing pains being the scars pitted in the land from where parts of their being had emerged. They did not know their future, but they knew their maker, and they knew their purpose. That was enough for now.
“And there it is,” Ainz said as they crested a hill to see a large walled city only an hour or so away. Most would look at the lich and see a large robed figure wearing a red and green mask with thick leather gloves covering his hands strolling casually down the road, followed by a robed Pony. Anyone who knew Ainz would note the slower-than-usual pace or how heavily he was leaning on his staff as he moved.
“Are you sure you can make it? We can wait here and rest for a few minutes.” The mare that travelled with him carried a curved horn, rather than the straight that most Unicorns were known for in Equestria. Her body was laden with pouches filled with various ingredients and tomes. A small gold bell gilt with silver dangled from her neck.
“Your kindness is appreciated, but I will be fine. Soon, I will reach my great tomb and will be capable of replenishing my energies,” Ainz said. “And maybe a nice slime bath.”
“I don’t even know for sure what I need.” She sighed and shook her head. “I suppose just meeting with your lord will have to do for now. Her mane was primarily green, but streaks of silver and gold could be glimpsed as she shook her head beneath the hood. My home is in ruins, and it will take generations before the land is able to recover after what that bastard did. I don’t want anything like that to happen to anyone else ever again.”
“Yes.” Ainz nodded. “My lord Hammer Strike will surely resonate with you on that. Lady Clover may even take it upon herself to aid you.” He sent a small psychic ping to Hammer Strike as they moved forward, simply a request to be met at the gate.
“At the very least, the odds of any regular Pony reaching that summit are close to none, for now.”
“Anyone short of the eighth tier will be lucky to create a hole small enough to pass a hen through, even if they do get past those winds you called,” Ainz agreed. “And even then, the power required would be monstrous for just a few minutes.”
“All the same, I hope it’s never found again. That thing is better lost.”
“There are some types of magic better lost to the ages. Let us hope Grogar’s legend ended before it started.'' The gate was closer now, almost within range.
Tears stood on the edges of the mare’s eyes as she looked on the city. “It’s a lot like Tambelon, isn’t it? Not so many bell towers, but….”
“But Unity holds the advantage of variety,” Ainz said. “Grogar would have found much trouble here.”
“I just wish we could have known sooner.”
“For what it’s worth, I hope you can find peace,” Ainz offered.
“We’ll see in time. Perhaps I’ll settle here. Or perhaps I’ll go back to the home of my ancestors. I’m told my family used to be bellmakers at a shrine far to the East.”
Ainz said nothing as they approached the gates and blended into the crowd of other creatures entering and exiting the city. Despite his size and appearance, the lich was hardly the strangest thing seen by the gate guards on a daily basis.
“Do try to stay close,” Ainz advised. “I’d hate to lose you in the crowd.”
“Ainz,” Hammer Strike called out as they approached. “What’s with the ridiculous mask?”
“I was trying to be discreet.” Ainz chuckled as he removed the mask. The front of his robe slid open and his gloves vanished into a dark abyss almost instantly. “I see you received my message.”
“It helps that I’ve been keeping tabs on your position.” Hammer Strike shrugged. “Would you mind introducing me to your travel companion?”
“Allow me to introduce Gusty the Great.” Ainz gestured. “The vanquisher of Grogar and the last surviving Unicorn of Tambelon.”
Gusty gaped at Ainz. “What? But I didn’t—”
“Of course you did,” Ainz said. “After all, everyone knows only a hero can slay a monster. If the story spread of the opposite being true, think of the trouble it could bring.”
“We can discuss this further in a more appropriate setting, such as the castle,” Hammer Strike noted with a small smile.
Gusty cocked her head. “Are you the captain of the guard?”
“Ah, my apologies. I am Hammer Strike. A pleasure to meet you.”
Gusty stared in silence for a time. Her brow furrowed in thought. When she finally spoke, it was with a confused frown. “I hope you’ll forgive the impertinence, but you don’t look much like a king.”
Ainz laughed. “He doesn’t act like much of one either.”
“Never did like the crown.” Hammer Strike gave a small smile. “I can assure you, I am the ruler of these lands. You’re free to ask the guards, if you feel the need.”
She shook her head. “If Master Gown acknowledges you, that’s all the proof I need. I’ve asked him to let me report in his stead while he recovers. I hope you don’t mind.”
“You can come pick my bones for answers after,” Ainz said cheerfully, though he hoped Hammer Strike picked up his tone.
Hammer Strike nodded. “Ainz, you’re free to get some rest. Gusty, would you mind accompanying me to the castle for this report?”
“I have nowhere else to go.” She smiled ironically. “We have much to discuss.”
“I’ll see you later.” Ainz nodded his head and vanished through a large gate of black flames that erupted in front of him.
It didn’t take long for Hammer Strike to lead Gusty to the castle and within a large conference room. “This room is sealed to ensure secrecy. Anything you wish to say will remain within these walls.”
“Then it’s best we begin at the beginning. My city was established as a settlement from the Far East in lands your people likely haven’t heard of before.” She pulled back her hood to reveal her curved horn and lush mane. Patches of red mingled with the green, gold, and silver. “Over many years, we prospered, becoming a society like unto a nation state, existing singularly outside of the squabbles of the other nations nearby.”
“Which is fair, given the state of the world as it was over many years.” Hammer Strike nodded.
“As I said, our people come from the east. We had experience dealing with creatures of shadow and darkness, and this made us formidable against most of the threats in the surrounding region. Vampires, shades, evil spirits, and others knew better than to assault our walls. We unlocked many new branches of magic in our time there, and we lived in harmony with each other. In many ways, it was a paradise. As I’m sure you gathered from our condition on arrival, was is the operative word.”
She laid a hoof gently on the bell at her neck, took a calming breath, and continued. “We were prepared for many evils, but a necromancer was not one of them, at least not this necromancer. He was clever, unlike the others of his kind we had encountered. His reason was mostly intact, and he bore a brutal cunning that gave him all the advantage he would require to overwhelm us and our defenses. He took my people as slaves, but unlike most of his kind, he didn’t kill or reanimate us. He kept us fed and clothed. He forced us to work, but he seemed reluctant to harm us. I was able to use this reluctance to escape the city after taking my time to research for any potential weaknesses to exploit.”
Her frame shook. “I’m afraid my people paid the ultimate price for that. He sent powerful spectres far beyond the skill of one of his kind to conjure, let alone control, after me to bring me back. I suppose that’s when the first inkling dawned to his true nature. I barely managed to keep ahead of the creatures until Master Gown found me. He dispersed them easily. When he told me of his intent to stop Grogar, I gave him all the information I had gathered. I also insisted on returning to Tambelon with him. If he was going to fight that monster, then I was going to give my all to empty the city.
“Unfortunately, when we arrived, that task had already been accomplished by another.” Her mane draped in front of her eyes and obscured all but the tip of her muzzle. “They were all dead, and Grogar was gripped by a mania I had never seen. His laughter was exultant and unreasoning, a stark contrast to the cautious and secretive goat I had come to know. When the time came to confront him, he was arrogant and overbearing. He gloated over the bodies of my people, my family.” She held the bell tighter. “Master Gown approached him. The battle is one that would doubtless become the stuff of legends were it known. He easily deflected the spells Grogar cast, striking stone and mortar with the necrotic energies, but never once taking any damage. When he revealed his true face, well … I assume you can imagine my reaction.”
Hammer Strike nodded. “He is certainly an oddity.”
“Grogar was taken aback, as was I. But his confidence remained.” She shuddered. “It is one thing to witness a single lich unmask. It’s quite another when two do. The battle was long and hard-fought. I’ll leave it to Master Gown to describe the full details. Suffice it to say that, in the end, Master Gown won. Grogar was defeated, and his body destroyed. All that remained was his bell, a magical artifact in which the lich had hidden much of his power. I’m sorry to say we were unable to destroy it.
“We buried the dead and gave them what rites we could. After the fact, we hid the bell on the highest summit we could find, in a cave Master Gown formed himself and bound with a powerful spell. As added insurance, I joined my efforts with his using this.” She removed the bell from her neck and let it hover between them with her magic. “I am what my people call a windcaller. To an extent, I am able to not only command wind, but communicate with it. There are some who might say this steps into the realm of witchcraft, but regardless of where it falls in the realm of magic, it sufficed for our purposes. The winds will never cease to blow on that mountain for so long as it shall stand. And they will guard that cave with everything they can muster.” Her eyes hardened as she recalled that moment. “Would that we could do more.” Then she sighed and shook her head. “The rest, you can guess. The journey was long, but the battle and the ensuing finishing spells had drained Master Gown of much of his strength. We walked here to you, and here we sit.”
“You’ve had quite the journey.” Hammer Strike frowned. “I’m sure of Ainz’s spellwork. The bell will remain secure with both your efforts. In the meantime, I will have a room prepared for you. Though you claim Ainz did all the work, you are in need of rest as well.”
Gusty nodded as she returned the bell to its place around her neck. “I thank you, King Hammer Strike, and I accept. It would seem that Master Gown would prefer history to remember me, rather than him. I assume you would also wish this to be so. If that is the case, it is the least I can do to repay him for ridding the world of such an evil. When Master Gown is ready, we can discuss the details of this … ‘official report’ in greater detail.”
Hammer Strike stood from the table and led Gusty out. “We’ll discuss things when the time comes,” He turned toward the nearest servant. “Savant, would you mind preparing a room for our guest, Gusty?”
The steel-gray stallion bowed respectfully. His forehooves were coated in the familiar white cloth of a servant’s gloves, and his barrel was covered in a suit coat tailor-fit for his service. The glint of wire could barely be perceived wrapping around the top of the gloves, waiting to unfurl at just the right moment. “Of course, Sir.”
Deep down in Nazarick, Ainz sat in his throne as power flowed into him from the stones and the magic that made them up. The energy he’d lost fighting Grogar was slowly but surely restored. The temptation was always there to draw from … that, but he resisted that slippery slope as he awaited his lord.
Hammer Strike arrived moments later before sighing. “She’s off to get some rest.”
“Good. I was worried for a moment that you didn’t get my meaning. She told you the basics, I take it?”
“Your assumptions are correct.”
“Grogar was unskilled. Talented, but having no refinement. His spellcraft was sloppy, and he couldn’t duel to save his life. He ended up being the hardest fight of magic I have ever had.” Ainz sighed.
“That’s the part I’m questioning. He would need a potent well of energy to draw from to match against you, so what did he have?”
“You were informed about Tambelon,” Ainz said as he reached into a dark abyss and pulled out what appeared to be a ball of tightly bound glowing rags. Almost afraid to hold it for too long, Ainz telekinetically moved it through the air to Hammer Strike. “That wasn’t entirely true.”
“Don’t tell me….” Hammer Strike took hold of the ball of rags and slowly unfurled it. In the center lay an orb of blood-red stone. It was roughly larger than a baseball by half, and with the seals off, Hammer Strike could feel the power radiating from it as well as waves of pain and anguish. He swore he could almost hear the screams before he managed to cover it again.
“I thought it was better to let her believe they were dead,” Ainz said.
“I agree.” Hammer Strike took a breath. “She … doesn’t need to know about this.”
“Grogar seemed to have been planning it for some time. The labour he was having them accomplish was the formation of the magical circle he would need,” Ainz explained. “As far as I can tell, he used the stone to make his phylactery immune to anything, be it magic or mundane, that could be brought to bear against him.”
“Of course, he did.” Hammer Strike sighed. “I can try to, at the very least, quell the souls within, but I doubt I could release them.”
“I doubt anything can.” Ainz nodded. “I have done the best I can to soothe their pain while they are covered, but my knowledge is lacking in this area.”
“I only knew of one other stone, so my knowledge is only slightly more.”
“I would prefer it if you were to take it,” Ainz said.
“I'll … see what I can do.” Hammer Strike placed the orb within his coat.
“That aside, there was nothing worth retrieving in Tambelon. Grogar’s notes were … childish, really.”
“Brute force tends to make a challenge.” Hammer Strike sighed. “I’ll have to broaden our sights, send scouts and such out farther, lest we have another incident such as this.”
“I’ll work on it immediately.”
Hammer Strike nodded. “Anything else to report?”
“Not really. I sealed Grogar’s bell, so his soul could not leak out, and placed him in the strongest barrier I could devise. Other then that, it is all pretty much as you know.”
“All right, then. I’ll see to … managing this ‘stone.’”
Yharon sat placidly in the shadows as his golden eyes met the red and yellow of the Thestrals that peered from the darkness of the room. Silver streaks of moonlight illuminated the gathering, and small spheres of fire danced ghostlike between the chairs of the delegates.
“I thank you all for coming on such short notice,” the Dragon began. “I wouldn’t have called you here, were it not important.”
“We wouldn’t expect otherwise.” One mare nodded. “Your father wouldn’t appreciate that.”
“Indeed. To be frank, I’ve invested a certain amount of my power into creating guardians to assist with protecting the kingdom. One in particular, I designed with you and your unique gifts in mind.” He conjured a larger fireball that hovered to illuminate the jutting tanzanite crystal that made up the golem’s head. “This golem’s enchantments and unique magical properties leave it highly attuned to the spiritual plane. It is my hope that she will be able to not only aid you in guarding your settlements, should the need arise, but also assist your foals with their spiritual progress as they seek to hone those special gifts your tribes alone seem to carry.”
An Older Mare whose mane and tail were grey with age, looked at the golem with clouded eyes. “If you wish for this artificial being to help, it should more closely resemble a Thestral, so that our foals and those after us don’t bristle that one that is neither full or mixed blood is teaching. It should also carry at least one moon stone. Right now, the stones you use are unfocused, unguided. If you wish to have it help and act as a warning beacon that even our Dreamers may not miss, it should have the Moon’s blessing.”
“That will have to be left to your priests and priestesses to fulfill. I haven’t the authority to give such a blessing. Unfortunately, I cannot alter her form. It wouldn’t be practical, given the original intent of her creation. She and her siblings are designed to protect against Dragon attacks and buy time for evacuation in the event of another such assault. I believed she would be of most use to you and your tribes because of the unique magical nature associated with her gemstones. However, if you feel the need to modify her to an extent, I don’t believe that will be a problem.”
“Very well,” the mare answered. “We will need to convene with our tribes, but the gift is warranted, given recent events. I assume you have copies of this golem’s specific capabilities for us?”
Yharon nodded.
“Then we will arrange for a delegation to see to the attunement and to add the moonstones into its makeup.”
“I thank you for accepting this gesture. I will make sure she is ready for the journey when your priests arrive. If there is any other way that I or Unity may be of service, please, don’t hesitate to ask. You all are very precious to Father.”
“We would request that your father join us for one of our hunts. It would mean much for the upcoming generation to see our High Chief setting an example for the rest,” the Wolf Clan delegate spoke up with a smile. “He united us under the sun, but we still live by the moon.”
“I’ll forward the invitation. Was there a particular date or time you had in mind?”
“Ohmygoshohmygoshohmygoshohmygoshohmy—”
“Twilight! Breathe!” Vital Spark urged. “Please.” The screen had just finished revealing Gusty the Great when she met Hammer Strike at the gates of Unity.
“Huh. So, it seems Gusty wasn’t quite as great as history claims,” Grif noted.
“At least this one was deliberately ordered, instead of somepony trying to make Unicorns look better than everyone else,” Vital said.
“Wasn’t criticising,” Grif noted. “But it makes a certain amount of sense, considering how powerful the legends claim Grogar was.”
“I’m just wondering what happened to the bell. You think she’ll craft it later?” Vital asked. “You know the one I mean.”
“Probably.” Grif shrugged. “From what we just saw, a lot of the recorded story seems to be metaphors and symbolism by people who weren’t there.”
“Are either of you two going to let me in on what you’re talking about?” Twilight asked.
Grif shook his head. “Nope.”
“Let’s just say it has to do with Earth stuff and leave it at that, Twilight. You don’t have the clearance for it.”
Twilight gaped at Vital Spark for a moment, then groaned. “Not you, too.”
Vital looked inquiringly at Grif.
Pensword shook his head. “Twilight, what can you tell us about what you read in your books? After all, maybe you already know what is classified, but we can’t say anything till we know what you know.”
“Pensword, I was asking about the bell they mentioned. If I had knowledge of it, there’s no way I would have asked about it in the first place.”
“Now, now, darling, no need to get upset,” Rarity assured her.
“That makes sense,” Pensword answered, “Well I am afraid that I cannot say anything either, then.” He grinned as he looked back from the screen to the other two. “That being said, I can see why this narrative was chosen, instead. I feel we’d have more problems if the lich was the true hero.”
“Somewhat of a Torchwood scenario, as it were?” Vital asked.
“Let’s not mention that place any time inside the Tardis,” Pensword countered. “Still, I am happy Gusty got to take the light.” Then his smile widened into a grin. “But though I can’t tell you about that bell they’re discussing, I think I can tell you some legends of another bell from Earth. We call it the Liberty Bell.”
“And here we go,” Grif said with a smirk.
“Pandora’s box has been opened,” Vital Spark agreed. “Brace yourself, Twilight. You’re about to get a very in-depth lesson in US history.”
“Is that really appropriate?” Twilight countered.
Derpy shrugged as she planted another basket of muffins in the midst of her companions. “We have time.”
“And you asked about powerful bells. You’ve never been to one of my history stories with the foals that I recall, so I might as well tell you about one of the most important bells of all. And by all means, ask questions as we go.”
“Welp we’re going to be here a while.” Grif sighed. “At least no one said the T-word.”
Vital Spark shuddered. “Let’s hope no one ever does.”
Pensword smirked.
Magical tomes moved around the study rapidly as the mare worked at one of her many tables. Quills took notes as magic circles glowed and several magical experiments happened simultaneously. Clover the Clever was at work.
The knock at the door quickly triggered the charms to open it, and Gusty strode in sans her cape. Her mane and tail were both exceedingly long and flowing for the average Pony, and her creamy coat bore the mark of five leaves being blown by the wind as she strode in.
“If the door opened, that must mean my husband saw fit to extend a guest welcome to you. That being said, you’ll forgive me if I don’t know who you are,” Clover stated, not looking away from her work. “Please be careful not to touch anything.”
“I apologize for the intrusion. I was looking for some tomes on binding and sealing magics. The scrolls in your library are good for basic theory, but I’m afraid I needed to find something more advanced. I was told to seek you out.”
“I’m surprised. Usually, we don’t get anyone powerful enough for anything more advanced,” Clover commented. “You must have a high aptitude.”
“Ah,” Mimir spoke up from a nearby table. “So you’re Gusty. Have to say, I thought you’d be different.”
Gusty raised a curious brow. “I should be more frightened at this, and yet, somehow, I’m not. What are you, exactly?”
“Well, given what you can see, you get the general gist of things. I’m a head. The name’s Mimir, smartest stallion alive.”
“So he tells everyone that will listen,” Clover said, not yet looking away from her work. “His story tells of other ideas.”
“Oi! Just because you anomalies are around doesn’t mean I’m wrong, It just makes you all the stranger.”
“Why do you need such advanced books on sealing spells?” Clover pressed again.
“Are you familiar with my people, Lady Clover?” Gusty asked as she approached the table holding Mimir. The head was propped on top of a lush pillow to allow what semblance of comfort could be afforded the stallion.
“I am familiar with many peoples. Which people do you mean?” Clover asked as several magic circles moved in chaotic patterns around her, whirring and clicking like clockwork as they adjusted.
“The Eastern Unicorns,” Gusty clarified. “While I don’t hail from those lands, I am descended from their inhabitants, and it would be easier to explain if you have some knowledge of my people.”
“Start with a name I can use. A province? A city maybe?” Clover asked.
“As I said, I don’t come from the empire. My home was the former gilded city Tambelon.”
“Ah the artificers.” Clover nodded. “I visited the city a few times. Your people were very gifted.”
“Yes, they were.” Gusty sighed. “I wish to carry on the legacy they’ve left me. To that end, I intend to develop a means to ensure no other like Grogar or his ilk can ever succeed again.”
Clover turned toward her, eyes and horn still glowing as her experiments continued on. “That's quite an ambition. Are you sure you’re ready for that level of magic?”
“If I’m not, then I’ll become ready. If Grogar can craft that infernal bell, then I’ll craft its antithesis.”
“Have you ever had your potential tested?”
“It’s been some time, but yes.”
“And what was your rank?”
“A beta.”
“Hmm.” Clover nodded. “That won’t do. We’ll have to work on that.” She floated a potion to her. “Drink this.”
“What is it?”
“It will break down your internal field and rebuild it from the ground up, hopefully more powerful than ever.”
“It doesn’t have any effects on the mind, does it?”
“What benefit would that have? I have enough brainless fools coming around to sing my praises and lick my boots. I don’t need to create one.”
“Then that’s enough for me.” She pulled out the stopper and drank it down in one go.
Then promptly dropped as her body exploded into mind-numbing pain.
“The experience, however, is distinctly unpleasant,” Clover noted coolly as Gusty writhed on the floor. She summoned a pillow and slid it carefully under the mare’s head. “When you're done, we can start on getting you where you need to be. Until then, try not to bite off your tongue, okay?”
“Well, that could have gone differently,” Mimir spoke up.
“I find most would-be disciples tend to run away when I mention several hours of mind-numbing pain,” Clover said. “If she’s truly devoted to her task, she’ll live. If not, she’ll die. It’s entirely up to her.”
“I’d ask you to remind me never to get on your bad side, but I get the feeling you wouldn’t bother to try,” Mimir noted. “Still, could be worse.”
“Honestly, I’m surprised she drank it so easily. It tastes foul and has an aftertaste that will linger for days.” She turned back to her work. “She may be worth the effort, after all.”
“Well, she’s got quite the trials to make it there first.” Mimir paused as he looked over Gusty once more. “Ah, she’ll be fine. Clover, would you mind turning me back toward the book?”
Clover did so. “Do you need the page turned?”
“Yes, please.”
Celestia giggled uncontrollably as she gulped yet another cup full of mead at the table by the many barrels Luna had accumulated in the cellar. “You,” she hiccuped, “you know, Lulu, I never drank much before, but this, this is really something….”
“I’ve been working on the recipe for a while.” Luna grinned. She was still unphased, but she was only on her eighth tankard so far. “I think it has just the right amount of bite.”
“An’ it’s sweet on th’tongue.” She hiccuped again. “I haven’t been like this since, since my wedding night. Mmm … Arthur, what a hunk of stallion.” She grinned and swayed.
“I am sure you and he had quite the night.” Luna laughed.
“Can … can you believe I had to ask his horse for dating advice?”
“His horse?” Luna asked with a raised eyebrow.
“On Earth, Equines aren’t nearly so intelligent as we are. Llamrei was about the only one I could hold a proper conversation with. I think it’s because she had Unicorn blood in her, or so she claimed.”
“Sounds like you two were friends?”
“The best of friends!” Mead spilled over the table as Celestia waved with her hoof, then took a sip and frowned into the cup when she found most of it empty. “She had Sir Prance-alot pegged the,” she hiccuped again, “the minute he walked into the court.”
“That was the traitor you talked about? The one who made advances on you?”
“Eeeeyup.” Celestia belched, then proffered her cup. “Another?”
Luna's horn lit up as she took the cup from her sister and smashed it against the floor before replacing it with a half pint. “Did you kill him?”
She shook her head and cupped the half-pint between her hooves as she looked into the dark liquid. “Would’ve just made me look more guilty. They didn’t respect mares over there. Arthur, … he was special. He saw me for me, my mind, m’everything, really. Not just m’flank.”
“Sounds like he meant a lot to you.”
“I’d have given everything in that world for him. Everything.” She threw back half the drink in one pull. “I saw the blow that should have killed him. And I couldn’t do anything. I had to watch them fight. And then … I had to take his body away. Oh, Luna, I thought I lost him.” Great tears welled and streaked down her cheeks before they landed on the table with a steamy hiss.
“Did you not?” Luna asked.
“I ....” Celestia frowned as she looked at her drink. “I … don’t know.”
“Sister, what happened?”
“I don’t know, all right?” Her horn sparked and the tankard she’d been given burst apart into smoldering chunks. She gasped. “I … I’m so sorry, Luna.” Her eyes cleared. “I … I think I must have had too much. Maybe … maybe I should go.” She stood slowly and braced herself against the table as her legs wobbled.
Luna got to her sister's side and wrapped a wing around her. “Come, sister. I’ll walk you back to your room.”
Celestia leaned against the mare and sighed wearily. “Thank you, Luna. I don’t know what I’d ever do without you.”
The Mares and Stallions of the many tribes of the Thestrals were camped in the meadows before the forest. They were discussing strategy. Signs of a Cockatrice infestation had been mounting for some time in the forest. They knew they would need to clear it out before it became too deeply ingrained and threw off the balance of game. Mixed with them were the forms of Fruit Thestrals. They served primarily at the cook fires making food and helping maintain weapons while sucking fresh fruits dry. They were more brightly colored than their normal brethren but all were waiting for their High Chief to make an appearance.
It was at that point in which Hammer Strike pulled himself from the shadows into the encampment.
The Thestrals turned as one to look at his entrance before they went back to their tasks as a few of the leaders for the hunting band walked up.
“High Chief, it is wonderful to meet you under our Lady’s moonlight. We’ve been keeping things silent, but the forest has a nest of cockatrices that could present some dangers to your day dwellers, as well as forgerers. It is a blessing for us to have a foe that would need group hunting. Where in the fight would you like to be?”
Hammer Strike shrugged. “I’ll likely be on overwatch, dealing with any that attempt to sneak by.”
“Very well, but if we need backup, please be aware that overwatch will be called in. But now that the formalities are out of the way, come, join us for a meal. It’s a shame cockatrice meat is so deadly. Otherwise, we’d feast on our kills tonight, too.”
Hammer Strike hummed in thought. “I wonder if I could make it edible...”
“If you do, we hope you share the secret. Our people despise wasting food, and the cockatrice does not provide much in the way of other materials to use in our arts.” The mare smiled. “But come, let us eat. We can speak of other such things later.”
Hammer Strike nodded and gestured for her to lead.
She guided him to one of the larger fires. “Allow me to introduce one of our cooks and lore keepers, Moonlight Strawberry.”
The cook waved a hoof as she sucked on an apple. She was completely red, a rarity among most of the other Thestrals.
Hammer Strike was given a bowl of very good stew with ingredients from around his kingdom, thanks to trading and farmlands, along with some kind of cured meat. After the meal, the hunters gathered and split off into three hunting parties with another two staying behind to protect the home camp.
Hammer Strike found himself standing overwatch on the lead hunting party heading towards the heart of the problem. To try and flush out and destroy the den, as well as to make sure nothing really circled back on them or escaped.
The Thestrals made a few animal night calls as they spread the information around. He sensed some of the cockatrice sentries being silenced. But it was slowly moving closer and tightening the noose. There would be chaos soon. But right now… they wanted to make sure that no Cockatrice would escape. The other Thestrals looked at Hammer Strike, waiting for the go order to attack the Den.
After a few still seconds, Hammer Strike nodded his head and the calls all sounded around the Den. The cockatrices woke with a start, but they couldn’t rouse fast enough. They were cut down brutally, and while some tried to use back doors and other means of escape, Hammer Strike’s wards were able to track them down, and the den was cleared out. When all was said and done, he entered the den to view the damage.
They found many stone victims from small to large animals, and even sadly a few sentient victims as well. The others looked to him for what to do with the statues.
“Give me a moment,” Hammer Strike walked up to one of the small statues and scanned it over thaumically.
“What are you doing, High Chief?” a younger Thestral asked as he watched the stallion work.
“I should be able to restore everything from their current state.” Hammer Strike hummed as he placed the statue down and blue fire surrounded his free hoof. Moments passed before the stone finally dissolved around the small critter and it sprung to life once more.
The Squirrel looked around before seeing the Thestrals. Then it chittered and scampered out of the cave. The other Thestrals looked at Hammer Strike in bewilderment for a time, then quickly began to gather the victims together for the stallion to revert and free to inhabit the forest once more.
“Those who are currently without a task, search for any additional statues while I restore these,” Hammer Strike called out as he got to work.
Those Thestrals who weren’t already gathering those in this portion of the den quickly delved deeper. The sound of smashing eggs and other destructive acts echoed back from the passage while others grunted as they worked together to take those statues they could to be tended by Hammer Strike. Tonight was truly a time to celebrate not only the restoration of life, but the affirmation of their leader’s greatness.
Gusty groaned as she finally came back into consciousness. Her head throbbed, particularly at the base of her horn, and her mouth felt dryer than a desert. She opened her eyes and instantly regretted it as daylight streamed into her sensitive pupils. “I’m alive,” she finally managed to croak.
“Yes, you are. Congratulations,” a familiar voice spoke as a jug of water floated toward her.
“I feel like my head is about to split open.” She sipped the water slowly, grateful to have refreshment after what must have been some time. “How long was I unconscious?”
“Thirteen hours, five minutes, and six seconds,” Clover responded.
“You … were that thorough?”
“Magic is thorough in its very nature,” Clover stated. “Measure nine times, cut once, as the craftsmen say.”
“I thought it was twice?”
“Not from the ones I know,” Clover noted.
It hurt to chuckle, but Gusty couldn’t help it. “I have the feeling this will be a very interesting relationship, assuming my magic capability hasn’t been completely destroyed by your poison,” she said with a playful smile.
“Well, technically it was completely destroyed. It was just put back together afterwards,” Mimir spoke up.
Gusty rolled her eyes. “I see he has no sense of humor.”
“Oi.” Mimir frowned. “It’s just too refined for you lot.”
“Mimir is very old.” Clover sighed. “He’s lost touch with a lot. As for your magic, it seems to be intact. How strong it is now is what we need to discover.”
“After this headache is past. Right now, I feel like my horn is ready to fall off.”
“Any power that is gained without strife isn’t really worth gaining,” Clover stated. “Too many Unicorns try to find the straightest path and give up too much in the process.”
“And would you say that I fall in that category? I did just take a potion for the express purpose of increasing my magical potential.”
“And you suffered for it,” Clover said. “You didn’t give up your soul or your sanity for knowledge people don’t need to know. You suffered pain for power, and you came out still intact.”
“Then I suppose we will see where this journey takes us. For now, though, Lady Clover, might I trouble you for some more water?”
Clover’s horn flashed as the jug refilled. “You’d better recover quickly, then, because we are only getting started.”
Gusty nodded. “Good. I look forward to the challenge.”
“You say that now,” Mimir muttered to himself as he focused back on the book in front of him.
Binding sighed as he strode into the fifth book shop in town. The attendant was an eager colt with a carefully coiffed golden mane. A homemade focus hewn from a tree limb of some sort was topped by a polished blue stone.
“Lord Binding, it truly is an honor to have you coming to our store.” He shook the older stallion’s hoof ecstatically.
“While I do appreciate your enthusiasm, young colt, I need to speak with your master on a matter of some urgency. Is she here?”
“In the back room, Sir. She’s been expecting you.”
Binding nodded. “Thank you.” Then he smiled. “If you’re looking to improve your skills, I recommend starting by composing incantations. Learn to synchronize your mana with the land, and you’ll be surprised at what spells it has to teach you.”
The colt needed little more encouragement. One excited whinny later, the starry-eyed colt was sitting at the counter with pen poised as he stared at a fresh piece of parchment. Binding chuckled to himself as he passed through the curtain into the room beyond. It was always refreshing to see the foundations of the future being laid.
The back room was filled with the familiar scent of ink, dust, and paper that had come to be the Unicorn’s constant companions these past decades, along with his close friends. Magical circles rounded each of the book shelves and cubbies to preserve the documents within while sigils and runes assisted with organization and summoning. Deeper still, Binding finally found the mare in question.
Morgiana Wayfinder was a taller mare with no ideas at pretension. Her purple robe was simple in its weave and homespun. She preferred comfort over fashion and knowledge over influence. In short, she was just the kind of mare that Binding liked to interact with. A pile of books and a stack of pages lay neatly on a side table while a teapot steamed next to some cookies, awaiting the mage.
“It’s been a while, Binding.” She smiled and motioned toward the other end of the table. “Care to join me for some tea?”
Binding smiled ruefully as he sat on the other side. “How long has it been since the last time I saw you?”
“Oh, I’d say about a decade, at least.” Fringes of gray streaked through her mane as she sipped her beverage. “Would that we could meet under happier circumstances. You know how I feel about doing this to books.”
“Hammer Strike has his reasons,” Binding assured her.
“I know.” She shuddered as she looked at the side table. “There are better ways to sustain life. Far better. I wish that those alchemists could see that.”
Binding smiled ruefully. “No one is immune from the desire to keep living, Morgiana. And more than a few would prefer to do so in a young and vibrant state.” He bit into a cookie, then sipped from his cup. “It can be a blessing at times, but as a whole, I believe it carries more disadvantages than advantages.” He peered intently at the stacks. “It’s that brief time we have that allows us to move forward in the first place. We change. Gods don’t.” He smiled. “Take your young apprentice, for example.”
Morgiana sighed and rolled her eyes. “Rudy didn’t try to have you teach him anything, did he?”
Binding chuckled and shook his head. “No. And he didn’t boast about himself either, unlike a certain young mare I remember.”
Morgiana blushed. “That was a long time ago.”
“Isn’t it curious how those memories are always the ones that stay with us longest?”
“Humiliation is good for the soul when you take it the right way. But it still burns.” She took another sip and sampled a cookie.
“A good thing you chose to learn from it, rather than spurn it, then, isn’t it?”
“A word of advice to you, Binding, though I’m sure Hammer Strike is already aware of it. Book collectors and alchemists don’t appreciate having to do this. For some of us, removing this kind of knowledge is a crime.”
“It’s either removing that information or taking the books in their entirety. Of the two, this is the lesser evil.”
“Is he trying to make a stone himself?”
Binding shook his head. “The very mention of such a possibility will cause the temperature in the room to rise by five degrees, should he be present to overhear it. If I had to guess, he may have found the answer to the age-old pursuit, and found that answer wanting.”
“Wanting would not lead to this level of seizure.”
“Deplorable, then. There are few things I’ve seen that can visibly cause him to appear angry, Morgiana. This is one of them.” He shuddered. “Gods help whoever is foolish enough to actually try to make one.”
“Would he actually be able to tell?”
“Knowing him, it’s a distinct possibility. After all these years, especially his dealing with the Dragons, I wouldn’t put anything past his capabilities.”
“It may be advisable for him to give a proclamation to the kingdom as a whole as well.”
“I’ve brought it up with him. We’re hoping that the general populace will get the intent behind the action, but it is likely a law will be formally drafted and codified within the next week or two to make it official.”
“I’m sure that will make you and your friends very busy over the next few months.”
Binding chuckled and finished his cookie. “Didn’t you know, Morgiana? We’re always busy.”
Cheers and song could be heard from all corners of the Adventurer’s Guild. The air was thick with the scent of roasted meat and vegetables. Ale flowed from casks, and tankards were happily emptied and refilled constantly. Songs, poems and loud roars filled every inch of the atmosphere. Ponies of all tribes, Minotaurs, Gryphons, Hippogriffs, and all manner of Equestrians had gathered to celebrate as a new plaque was mounted to the wall, upon which sat the head and antlers of the wendigo that had been attacking the northern settlements for the past few months.
A tall, well-built Thestral with scaled armor sat at the head table and smiled at the revelry. He rose to his hooves and blew on a milky ribboned horn that blared over the gathering and called for silence.
“Many years ago, this land was plagued by shadows and terrors the likes of which could strike fear into the hearts of any person to confront it. Worse still, that person would not be granted the decency of a proper death, but be raised in a twisted pantomime of life. Possession, zombification, demonic pacts. These and many more held our people in a constant state of terror.” He smiled. “But now look how far we have come together. Creatures of the night cower. Malevolent spirits are bound and exorcised. And it has been my honor to join with you, my brothers and sisters, in this noblest of hunts.”
The room filled with the uproar of the guild’s approval. The Thestral raised his hooves, and the room fell to silence again.
“Tonight, we gather to celebrate the casting out of one such spirit, and putting to rest the poor soul that couldn’t be saved. We gather in memory of that soul and all the souls before it that were forced to follow that same path. And we gather in honor of the souls whose fire burned bright enough to set that victim free. Eld’gar Bloodhoof, Whisper Sting, Sonia Freecaller, and Fran Germaine stand forward!”
A burly minotaur in heavy plate armor tromped to the guildmaster’s table, flanked by a black-furred Thestral wrapped in tight black cloth. A bone whip hung at her side, complemented by knife belts and pouches with various concoctions for her trade. A mare with a golden mane and an orange coat strode forward to join them. She wore a white habit and robe bedecked with the sigils of both Faust and Sleipnir. A long metal staff lay across her back. The eight legs of Sleipnir curved over the edge of the setting where a pale white orb hovered. The golden sharp blade at the base of the staff was reminiscent of the nib of a quill, and metallic feathers inlaid with the staff complemented the base to represent the goddess. A dim glow from the runes that had been engraved on them hinted at their magical nature and the potential for a hidden use. Lastly, the clop of hooves mingled with the clattering scrape of talons as a young Hippogriff with white hindquarters and the same regal bearing that all her Gryphon forebears seemed to carry stepped forward. A pair of hand axes lay within easy reach, and a black war hammer rested across her back that complemented the red leather armor and dark steel plates that protected her from harm.
“You four have fought long and hard to join our ranks. You’ve trained in these halls, cut your teeth in the surrounding lands, and now have claimed what I hope to be the first of many kills to come.” He turned to the side, where a smiling Gryphon held a pillow that supported four metal pieces. “In recognition of your service and commemoration of your deeds, it is my honor, privilege, and duty to bestow you with the rank of bronze adventurer.” He pulled a knife from side and pricked each of the guild members to drop blood on their respective plates. “These are now bound to you, as a sign of recognition in service to the kingdom and the guild. Wear them proudly. Wear them well.” He pinned each clip to the adventurers, then smiled as he hovered above the table. “Three cheers to our newest heroes!”
“It is an honor, guildmaster,” the Hippogriff said with a bow as the room erupted once more. The other three smiled or blushed in turn as they were welcomed into the fold.
“Tonight, we celebrate. Tomorrow, we return to business as usual. Eat. Drink. Be merry!”
And so they were.
The air rang with demented laughter as silver bayonettes flew indiscriminately through the arena. They crashed against the magical barrier that had been erected as the crowds within Sleipnir’s temple roared.
“Now here’s a match I’ve been waiting for for a long time. Say your prayers, you bloody heathen.” Anderson’s teeth were bared in a vicious grin as he strafed the arena.
“A Faustian priest blessed by Sleipnir, fighting in a temple of Sleipnir, calling me a heathen.” Tarefson waved a hoof. “Isn’t hypocrisy against your goddess’ laws?”
“On the contrary. I acknowledge Sleipnir’s existence. He’s her bloody father, after all.” Two more bayonets crossed as they sparked against the vampire’s metal crossbow. “Just think of this as keeping friendly relations.”
“And? Lord’s real. I don’t see you acknowledging the nine hells as a valid choice of theological dedication.” Tarefson chuckled as he held Anderson back, then shoved him over the dirt six feet.
“The nine hells consume souls, and they always get their due. You got lucky when you swore yourself to Hammer Strike. How long do you think that luck’ll hold for you here?” Anderson flared his wings to gust the dust of the arena and cracked his head against Anderson’s skull.
“Given the father of your god favors him, I’d say pretty good.” Tarefson chuckled, matching Anderson in force.
“Then we’d best get to it, hadn’t we?” The flutter of golden pages scattered around, and Anderson disappeared. His voice echoed ethereally as he recited, “Serve the Lady with fear and rejoice with trembling. Kiss the daughter, lest the father be angry, and ye perish from the way when his wrath is kindled but a little.”
“You know I much prefer the Sleipnirian scriptures. ‘Stomp his flank’ and ‘kick his teeth in’ always resonated better with me,” alucard said as he eyed his surroundings carefully.
A hail of bayonets rained from above in an attempt to skewer the vampire. A few skewered him in the flank and grazed his legs, but the vampire only chuckled as necrotic energy seethed from his wounds, pushing the bayonets out and sealing them.
“Oh, come on, Tarefson, don’t tell me you’re going soft on me now.” He laughed. “Or are you telling me those lucky charms are actually working?”
“I told you if the leprechaun dies, the luck fades.” Tarefson chuckled.
“Then I guess we’ll just have to make our own, won’t we?” His glasses gleamed, and his perfectly white teeth seemed almost to glow as the battle frenzy began to settle in in earnest.
“Oh, now it’s getting good!” Tarefson grinned as necrotic energy bled out around him in a sickly aura.
The arena was filled with a wind generated by the sheer will of the two competitors, so perfectly matched were their wavelengths. And then they clashed in the dance of death, communing silently in the perfect harmony that their opposites made.
And the congregation rejoiced.
Gusty frowned as she reviewed the tomes floating around her, then nodded as she inscribed what appeared to be a simple pattern. Eight separate ovals stretched like petals, overlapping in the very center in a manner not unlike a venn diagram. A circle was drawn about them, and she nodded in satisfaction over the core.
“It’s not much, but it’s a start,” she muttered. “Preparing the totems themselves will take some time, though.”
“It seems well thought out. Have you added a formula for combating entropy?”
“That’s the main focus of the spellweave itself. The artifacts will each draw on each other to sustain themselves and the bell. They’ll only be able to be destroyed if they’re all together in one place.” She frowned. “I may need to find a place of power to make it work, though, somewhere that can handle that kind of influx of energies and keep them under control during the crafting.”
“So you want them to create a feedback loop amongst each other?” Clover asked.
“To match the power in the bell, yes. I may not ever be able to create something to destroy that thing, but I can at least craft something that can fight it to a standstill and keep it there.”
“So you're intending to make a magical cascade in order to counteract its power.” Clover nodded. “You’re going to need a lot of materials for that.”
“Yes. And I’ll need the enchantments in each artifact to be something unique to tie into the final product’s magic and shape.”
“Which is more difficult by the fact you don’t know what that product is yet.”
“Given my unique cultural heritage, I was considering the old adage. An eye for an eye. Or in this case, a bell for a bell. They have a unique connection to the spiritual plane, and would have the highest probability of producing magic on a wavelength that can neutralize whatever Grogar’s bell can muster.
“Yes, but you haven’t made the bell yet. You don’t know its magical identity or its sigil. Therefore, you’re going to be tieing the enchantments to an unknown variable.”
“In the end, yes,” Gusty agreed. “However, that formula won’t have to be formed until the moment of the bell’s creation. Much like when crafting a potion, one requires the base ingredients first. I believe if I focus on the construction of each artifact as a separate project, I can then tie them together as the reagents necessary for the forging of the final artifact.
“Well, you’ve certainly thought it through.”
“Are you going to suggest we ask Mimir’s opinion next?”
“He’d read the formulas better than I would with his eyes,” Clover noted.
“True. Has he ever told you how he got those things in the first place?”
“No, and I haven't asked him.” Clover shrugged. “After living with Hammer Strike for so long, there are some things I don’t want to know.”
“Given Master Gown has sworn loyalty to King Strike as his superior, I suppose I must agree with you.” Gusty frowned. “How disappointing.” She shrugged in turn. “But I am not unfamiliar with such sensations. Was there anything you needed me to assist you with, Lady Clover?”
“No. You’re free to see to whatever you need, Gusty.”
Gusty nodded as she gathered up her notes and materials. “I’ll keep you updated on my progress. For now, I have aspects to ponder.”
Hammer Strike sighed to himself. He was currently on his throne, having just finished several meetings. He had another few hours to remain before he could set off on his own, having scheduled a number of meetings within the day primarily to get them over with. He had half an hour between each to give himself a minor break between.
Clover entered the room looking tired and with at least one patch of singed fur. She moved to him quickly with a stoney gaze. “You weren’t kidding about you being different in the past, or future, or, whatever. You looked very different.” Clover sighed as she stopped before the throne.
“Which era did you meet me?” Hammer Strike questioned.
“During the period just before the Third Gryphon War.”
Hammer Strike hummed for a second. “I believe I was … less scarred, definitely shorter, no glowing eyes, of course.” He paused for a moment. “Did I have the tip of my ear still?”
“Yes, you did. It was strange.”
“Well, I’d believe it. Despite me acting as though I knew you, I have a feeling that was the first time I actually met you.”
“Most likely.” She nodded. “It’s weird how different everything was at that time.”
“Well, given an era of certain ‘disaster’ occurs between now and then,” Hammer Strike sighed, “that’s to be expected. Honestly, I haven’t thought back on that in a while. That war changed me.”
“Don’t all wars change you?” she asked.
“Not to the extreme that one did.” He shook his head. “That was technically the first war I fought in. I had been in battles before then, but that was the first experience of war I had taken part in. I was even betrayed by a noble of Equestria and tortured for nearly a month for any information I had.”
“What happened to the noble?”
“Tried and executed by myself, his name wiped from history to an almost perfect degree, but it was spoken about for many years after.”
“As fitting for those who’d make themselves your enemy.”
He gave a soft smile. “Indeed. There was only one thing I took from all of that which was a positive.”
“So, what do you think you’ll do when you return?”
“Probably gather all my assets once more. Reveal myself to you, ask for you to stop hiding things from my past self. Standard stuff.”
“No big ‘return of the king’ for you, huh?” She laughed.
“You kidding? I’ll have a brief vacation first. I’ll need to prepare.”
“I can respect that.” She chuckled. “I suppose you’ll need to go to the tree again.”
“That’s … going to be an interesting part. I’ll also need to ‘find’ everyone.”
“Any idea where you’ll start?”
“Probably the … locating everyone part, followed by checking on Harmony’s condition.”
“You miss the future?”
Hammer Strike frowned. “I’ve spent more time here than I have been in the future. I … don’t know anymore.”
“You may have to decide someday,” she pointed out.
“I know.” Hammer Strike sighed. “I know.”
The dining hall was a grand wide open space full of magical torches embedded in rings along the walls that were interspersed between large stained glass windows and suits of armor. The feasting table was several yards long, built both tall and broad to not only support the sheer weight of food in the case of banquets, but also to provide a proper surface for any dignitaries from the other nations that might be visiting.
As for the weight of food, it seemed that whether there were visitors or not, Luna always ate enough to require a feast. The mare chewed her food with a nigh-reckless abandon. Celestia was more sedate and dignified as she cut her food and levitated it into her mouth. Yharon, likewise, ate in a similar manner. A set of books lay curled within his tail as he looked over his family. As usual, Hammer Strike sat at the head of the table and partook of both meat and vegetables in equal measure. Clover’s chair was set up next to her mate, giving her the same opportunity to watch the rest of their children and to remain close to the colt who had started out as a teacher and finished as her husband. Servants would check in on a regular basis to ensure that food and drink were properly stocked and prepared for the royals to partake.
In other words, it was a typical family meal, a rarity for the royal family, given the sheer number of incidents they always seemed to have to deal with in Unity.
“Though I miss cooking, I have to admit,” Hammer Strike nodded to himself. “You all did pick some good chefs.”
“That was Celestia,” Clover noted.
The mare blushed. “I … had some experience managing these sorts of things on my travels.”
“Still, well chosen.” Hammer Strike chuckled softly.
“Thank you, Father.”
“Shall we have a toast?” Yharon suggested. “To us. Not only this family, but to the kingdom as a whole. May the gods continue to smile on us as we strengthen the kingdom together.” He chuckled. “And if you’ll pardon the crudity of the statement, gods help whoever pisses Father off.”
Before anyone could add anything, the doors to the dining room burst open as a Pegasus messenger quickly sought out Hammer Strike.
“Sir, we’ve received word from the Thestrals in the north. The Gryphons’ storm core refinement facility and its city were hit by a plague, and it seems at last check that the survivors have all but left it empty.” He took several breaths before continuing on. “The Gryphons are mobilizing.”
The grin on Hammer Strike’s face slowly dropped as his mood soured. It was soon followed by his anger as within himself something resonated once more.
Silverware clattered to the floor as the occupants of the room reeled. Despite the warmth of the summer, their bodies trembled. The castle didn’t move. The stones didn’t shake. And yet the messenger was driven to his knees by the sheer weight of the pressure that had been exerted and now pulsed through the castle. Magical instruments went haywire. Beakers exploded in their labs from the supercharge. Artifacts ran amok as their enchantments went haywire. The golems that had been set on the walls of the city began to glow like beacons as they entered into high alert. The Earth Ponies felt it. The Pegasi tasted it. And the Unicorns, … the Unicorns feared it. And rightly so.
“Calm down,” Clover said in a shaky voice. His fury burned in her soul with an intense heat. Not only from her thaumic bond with him, but also from her own skills as a thaumaturgist and the more intimate bonds they had shared over the years since their meeting.
“She’s right. If you let your anger get the best of you again, you may ascend. We both know you don’t want that,” Harmony said as she flashed into existence next to him.
Hammer Strike slowly took a breath in before sighing as the pressure within the room was snuffed out once more. Placing down his silverware, he then stood from the table. “Thank you for the information, Carrier. I will deal with this immediately.”
“Aren't you going to finish dinner?” Clover asked.
“Sorry. My appetite has escaped me at the moment.” Hammer Strike shook his head. “If you would excuse me, I believe I need to … renegotiate some terms.”
“Hoboy. Gryphons are about to get wrecked,” Vital noted as he popped kernels of kettle corn into his mouth.
“If history is correct, this should be the last major conflict,” Grif noted. “Of course, we can’t know for sure with Discord, but it’s hopeful.”
“You mean the last major conflict before the Third Gryphon War, I presume?”
“Before the Discordian Era,” Grif said. “A good few millennia away from the Third Gryphon War.”
“And with good reason, I would assume, given what we saw Hammer Strike do to the Dragonlands.”
“It means we may be able to pick him up soon,” Grif said.
“How soon?” Rarity asked.
“That, I can’t tell you.” Grif shrugged.
The TARDIS whirred as a pale blue light emanated from the round things along the walls, and silver flecks spiralled in the plunger as it continued to work.
“... I’m going to guess this is some sort of protective measure?” Vital Spark asked.
“Of course it is,” The Doctor said. “You don’t go and let yourself get burned a second time if you can help it, do you?”
“Just double checking is all,” Vital said. “I don’t mean her any offense, but usually when she does something unusual, it either means trouble or adventure is on the way. Usually both.”
A piece of the console actually sputtered in response to the comment.
“Did she just … spit at Vital Spark?” Twilight asked.
“I believe,” Pensword said through a smirk, “that the appropriate term is a raspberry.”
“Are you sure you don’t mean a snozzberry, Pensword?” Vital returned with a playful smile.
“Who ever heard of a snozzberry?” Grif said in a high-pitched uppity tone.
“I’m confused. Is a snozzberry a real fruit from Earth or is this just an inside joke?” Twilight asked.
Vital just chuckled and responded with, “We are the music-makers, and we are the dreamers of dreams.”
The Doctor couldn’t help but smile at the antics as Twilight frowned in confusion. It was moments like this that reminded him just why he valued planets like Equestria and Earth so much.
The crags of the once-resplendent Dragonlands now clawed desperately at the air like the desiccated remains of a corpse. Such a drastic change was a concerning thing for the Gryphons to note. But since the fire breathers had not gone into Gryphon territory, it was possible they may have done it to their own lands through civil war, or so the crewmen of the ship supposed as they flew over the landscape. Their cannons and weapons were fully charged, ready to strike any wyrms that might be foolish enough to harry them in their trek. Provided they traveled quickly without any intent of harvesting materials, the Dragons would ignore them.
But it paid to be on the safe side.
The ships were not nearly so numerous as in their previous campaign, but what vessels could be spared were filled to capacity and escorted by remaining troops on rotating shifts to avoid exhaustion. When they passed over the jagged scar of land into the green, blood began to race. It had been a number of decades since the last failed campaign.
Decades in which the enemy would have had time to further entrench themselves and bolster defenses. Time to prepare.
The resulting battle would be glorious.
The admiral in charge of the fleet gazed intently through their monitors as they approached the first settlements. They homed in on a single form standing tall in the wind. Such a thing would not be out of the ordinary. Many a Pony stood proud in the last war. Many were killed. This one, however, was different in two respects. First, it was a lone Earth Pony without armor, and only carrying three weapons: a sword, a war hammer, and a scythe. Secondly, and inexplicably, that Earth Pony was standing on thin air at equal altitude to the approaching armada with blue flames wreathing his hooves.
The Pony didn’t smile, nor did he frown. His face was one of implacable calm. His eyes, however, glowed a steady red that caused the less experienced fighters of the craft to tremble from their stations at the helm. The Pony didn’t speak. He merely raised a foreleg and waved once.
A sudden hush fell over the expanse as clouds darkened. The Gryphons could feel the change in the weather as the distant rumble of thunder carried on the wind and the air became charged. But if this Pony believed that lightning was deter them, he had another thing coming.
“Attention all vessels. Prepare to fire on my command,” the admiral called over the comms.
That was as far as he would get. The air was consumed in a roar as light seared, glass burst, and the occupants of the cabin were completely immolated. Hell and Tartarus rained from the skies to strike the vessels and their troops with streaking comets and great boulders set ablaze with a heat that could reduce the metallic portions of their ships to slag. Whole regiments were consumed. Those that managed to dodge either choked from burnt lungs and esophagi that had been reduced to the equivalent of charcoal or screamed in agony as their own bodies singed, boiled, burst, and finally ignited in dripping flares that were like so much wax dropping off a candle.
Feathers were reduced to ash, and wings cooked to mingle with the smell of smoke and noxious fumes. Some ships managed to reach the ground before their imminent explosion. The rest blew apart like so many fireworks, each with the radiance of a small star made all the brighter by the sheer intensity of the energy unleashed when their storm cores exploded. Truly, it was a sight to behold. And the fires burned hot enough to make even a Dragon jealous.
It took all of maybe a minute for the invading force to be wiped out. Hammer Strike gazed coldly over the remains and descended slowly as he extended his thoughts to Ainz. If the Gryphons wanted intimidation, he’d give them intimidation.
“Ainz, I have some work for you.”
“How may I be of service?”
“The first wave needs to be cleaned up.” Hammer Strike looked down to the wreckage below. “And, I’d like you to send a message for me.”
“Anything in particular?” Ainz asked, even as his black gate appeared and he stepped through.
“I want you to ensure they regret their actions. Let them know I will not allow a single life to be taken from us.”
“I have just the thing.” Ainz laughed as he began raising the dead around him one by one.
“Whatever works. I need to depart to the next fleet.”
The great mountain peak that rose in the range flanked the pass that led to the far north. At a distance, nothing would seem out of the ordinary, but as one drew closer to the pass, the mountain’s structure began to change. Great towering forms of proud stone Gryphon warrior kings stared resolutely with folded wings over the endless expanse, a constant vanguard to the approach of potential enemies, and a watchful gaze to protect the weary traveller.
Vast cliff faces opened and closed at the command of the evokers and engineers that manned them in anticipation of arriving airships and warriors coming home to roost. Crags and caverns were deliberately dug to appear natural while granting the camouflage and vantage points necessary to pin enemies and invaders with cover fire. Massive ballistae and storm cannons lined the battlements in carefully concealed chutes that would pull aside to position the barrels and allow them to fire.
And deep within the walls of that structure, the halls were lit with torches and crystals that glowed with a warm light. In the court of the king, cleverly structured quartz channeled the sunlight from above to filter in a halo over the throne, giving the appearance of a divine aura. The rest of the structure was cleverly built with controlled shutters that could control the intensity of the light filtered through the rest of the roof, and thus prevent blindness when the light outside became too radiant. Within that court, the king sat upon his throne in full regalia, as duty required of him. His advisors and generals each waited to offer their reports on the progress of the next stage in their conquest. A war table had been set up to the side for visual aid as they planned their offensive.
“Has there been any word from the assault team?”
A Gryphon with black feathers and gold tips bowed respectfully to his king. “None, Your Majesty. It is possible that they may be waiting to establish a proper foothold before—”
He was interrupted as the large double doors exploded open with a loud double crack that echoed through the room. The smell of burnt feathers and flesh filled the space as a figure dragged itself in, leaving a trail of ash, congealed blood, and burnt feathers behind it. It looked like at one time it had been a Gryphon, but it had been badly burnt. Fur and feathers were all but gone, revealing mottled puffy flesh in various areas. Half-melted armor was grafted halfway onto the skin and half hung off, swaying with every step. The fact that the creature was undead was fairly obvious, given that half its face had been completely burnt off, leaving a charred skull behind. The one empty eye socket burned with a sickly green light while the one remaining eye was gray and unseeing. Stumps that had been wings flapped reflexively now and then as the figure dragged it’s corpse to the foot of the throne.
It ignored the screams and cries of the various Gryphons, the dagger sticking out of its side, the broken spear shaft sticking out of its chest or even the multiple arrows that peppered it’s body. As the guards drew their spears, it simply looked up to the king. Its half-connected beak slurred its words.
“Re...porrrt,” it said, giving a salute that appeared almost mocking.
“What is the meaning of this?” one of the generals snarled as he drew his swords and stepped before the throne to prevent access to the king. If the creature wanted to attack, it would not claim the greatest prize.
“Re...porrt frroo...mmm t...he fr..ont,” the corpse offered. “All…. de...dead…. To...tal…. Losss.”
Another of the generals growled. “That thing is a mockery of our soldiers. One of those damned Unicorns must be using necromancy.” He spat on the floor.
“No… no...t po...nny… Kingggg…. Of De..ath,” the corpse said. “Be….ware, the Flame… offf… E...que...stria… still wal..ks. And de...ath, serves him.” Dark flames erupted from the corpse, formed from a fire that almost seemed to be the absence of light. “Fi….re and de...ath, be...ware the ponies… lest yo...our fa...te be ours!” The voice was a chorus now, not one Gryphon, but many, legions of Gryphons screaming in painful chorus inside the single voice. The corpse began to disintegrate before them. Fur, feathers, flesh, bone, and metal all crumbling to death. “Be...ware….” The word faded as the last of the skull turned to dust before their eyes.
“There … there’s no way,” The king sputtered fearfully.
“Winds….” One of the generals shuddered. “Get our evokers here on the double, and keep those ashes where they are. I want verification that this isn’t some Pony trick.”
“You need not look much farther.” Hammer Strike spoke up, having just appeared within the room.
One of the Gryphons lunged to strike him with a sword.
Hammer Strike didn’t bother to move. One moment the Gryphon was there, the next, he wasn’t. Soon after, a weight fell upon each Gryphon within the room, later to be discovered that it spread much farther. He turned his attention toward the King and started to walk forward.
The Gryphons were all immobilized by the force pressing down on them. The king could barely force himself to stand with the help of bracing against one of his weapons as a prop. His entire body trembled with the effort.
“I grow tired of these transgressions.” Hammer Strike’s frown deepened. “I ensured you were offered mercy from the last time. I let the Dragonlands serve as a warning for those who dared think another attempt.”
“You…. You’re supposed to be dead,” one of the older generals snarled.
“I have been alive since before the fall of the Alicorn Empire. What led you to believe I would suddenly die of old age?” Hammer Strike turned his attention to the General.
“Im … possible,” the Gryphon gasped with wide eyes as he gazed into Hammer Strike’s glowing irises. But that tech was unmistakable to those who had known the work of the former Children of Faust. And even after the generations that had passed, they still knew how to recognize the work of such implants.
“I’ll be so kind as to give you something more to think about. I was there, during their fall,” Hammer Strike growled.
The silence that greeted that statement was deafening. It was not the silence of the grave, but rather the silence of the shadow that haunts the sleep of those who fear. These creatures were predators, and yet they now faced an entity that looked like prey, yet had outlasted even their most hated enemy. Was he the cause of the fall, or did he contribute to it in some way? Such questions did not matter in the long run. What did matter was that he survived. And he now stood where no Alicorn ever could again.
“Do you all finally understand the mercy I granted you?”
The king landed heavily back on his throne as he gazed in utter disbelief at the Pony. It was all he could do, just to nod.
“Make this mistake again, and I will do to you what I did to the Dragons. Understood?”
The king swallowed heavily. “U-understood.”
“Good.” Hammer Strike allowed the pressure to fade from the room. “I have a meeting to go to now with your emperor. I have watch over the entirety of Equestria. Recall every unit you sent out or you will not see them again.” He turned and moved towards the exit. He didn’t bother to check for any arrows aimed his way. They knew what they faced now, and whether they were willing to admit it or not, they feared him. And that was just fine to Hammer Strike. They had reason to be afraid.
The ring of a tiny mallet striking a chisel tinked softly as microshavings of silvery metal fluttered to the workshop floor of the forge. The project had taken weeks to accomplish, from the harvesting of the best materials to guiding Luna in the crafting of one of the key alloys to smelting the other ingredients and shaping them into proper billets to mold and shape as he saw fit. Fortunately, he had an advantage most Ponies did not. He could summon flames to maintain a constant temperature on the metal as he fashioned it into its final shape. Now he gazed upon the fruits of that labor as he tapped away to fashion the etchings and engravings of the design.
Arcane loops flowed, wound in viney tendrils across the surface while delicate blows carefully placed allowed him to replicate the appearance of minute scales. The talon caps were engraved with runes for durability, protection, and piercing. And each of them bore a flexible joint-like sheathe that stretched up the talon’s finger to guard against attacks or bites that might seek to sever the limb from the tool. This sleeve would only yield for its true owner, and had been fashioned to reflect the feathers that comprised much of Yharon’s body. In every way, it was a work of love from a parent who never wanted their child to repeat the past.
Given what had already happened for the kingdom and its history, he knew only too well there probably wasn’t much time left before he needed to return to the future. And he would do everything in his power to prepare his children to stand on their own.
The twin doors of the forge yawned open, and Yharon strode through the portal. He sighed as the familiar warmth washed over his body, helping his muscles to relax in what would have been uncomfortably hot to most other creatures. “I missed this place,” he said with a smile. Then he turned to face his father. “You sent for me?”
“Indeed.” Hammer Strike nodded as he turned from his work. “Since you’ve finished growing, I was able to actually work on a project I’ve been holding off on.”
Yharon raised a quizzical brow. “And you need my assistance?”
“No, I need you to put these on and tell me how they fit.” Hammer Strike shifted to reveal the newly finished talon guards.
Yharon gaped at the sight. A brief glow passed over his wings as he scanned the gear, and his four eyes widened. “You used eclipse steel?” The gear slipped onto his fingers and glowed as they locked onto his magical aura. In a matter of seconds, the guards for his fingers extended to consume his whole hands, forming a flexible and sturdy pair of gloves that wove in a mesh of metal fibers to make the pieces whole.
“Fit well?” Hammer Strike glanced over the guard as Yharon turned it over to look at it.
“Deployable mesh, and feather-guard plates that function equally well as blades in the event I require them. Interesting.” He frowned in concentration, and the plated feathers sharpened into sleek razors with reinforced blades. “Multifunctionality always was your style.” He smiled softly and knelt to embrace his father as the offensive capabilities reverted to neutral. “Thank you. They’re perfect.”
“I figured it would serve you well in case they’re needed,” Hammer Strike smiled as he returned the embrace. “Be sure to test them out in the training yard. I can’t exactly do that part.” He lifted his hoof for emphasis.
“Got any more of those Dragon scales lying around?”
“Fair point.” Hammer Strike opened a rift to his side and reached in for a moment. “Let’s see….” Soon after, he pulled out a larger scale. “Huh, not quite dragon scale, but dragon turtle scale works well enough.”
“I suppose for a test, it will suffice. They’re not full-blooded Dragons, but we can judge how effective the gear is this way and estimate how it will function against full-blooded Dragons.” He seized the scale and laid it on his back.
“Those scales should be of rough equivalent, so it’ll work out fine.” Hammer Strike nodded. “Also, is Clover still gone with The Doctor?”
“I certainly haven’t seen them yet.”
Hammer Strike frowned. “The Doctor’s always been a bit off when it comes to returning back at a decent time.”
“I’m sure he’ll show up soon enough. The latest he’s ever gone is a month before dropping her off.”
“Yeah.” Hammer Strike shrugged. “He’ll show up eventually.”
The adventurer’s guild was immersed in the scent of roasted pork. The massive porcine body of a dire boar lay on a pole as thick as a tree trunk over a massive fire of silver flames. Luna's horn glowed brightly as she kept up the spell while levitating the beast’s massive head to the cheering crowd of mixed races.
“So, my friends, the boar of Tampa Neigh charged me dead on with tusks, as you can see, that would peirce plate mail! The beast nearly had me, too.” Luna raised a wing, showing a long running scar that was still healing at her side. “But just as it was grazing my side with the flesh wound you see, I sent my mace into the side of its neck once, twice, thrice! And with a mighty crack, like a felled redwood, the monster’s neck gave way! And that, my friends, is the reason I bring you this feast tonight. And a new trophy.” She raised the boar’s head higher. And like the urging of a conductor’s hand, or hoof as the case may be, raised the cheering’s volume in turn. She lifted her tankard with a hoof and threw back its contents, chugging down the ale with gusto that left the stallions leering or hooting in turn while others grinned and coins changed possession.
Celestia nursed her drink and smiled sadly at the sights and sounds of the hall. In many ways, the rowdiness reminded her of the feasts back in Camelot. This room held that same sense of comradery and fervor that had raised so many spirits and been a guiding light in an otherwise dismal and dark age. In a strange way, one could very well think that such ties of friendship were a form of magic. She couldn’t help but shake her head at the thought as her smile lifted a little higher. If only it were that easy. Still, this was a time of merrymaking, and she wasn’t about to spoil the mood with the clouds of her past. She rose and beamed at her younger sister.
“Luna always has and always will be the stronger of the two of us. Some would say she was made for combat. And, in a way, perhaps they are right. She takes to every weapon she trains with a fervor and passion I have seen in only a few before in our many years. She is a warrior of the people and for the people. Never have I seen such a perfect balance of laughter, loyalty, and honesty in a warrior. She fights not wantonly, but with a cause for her friends and her loved ones. She shapes her destiny as easily as she shapes the ore of our father’s craft. May her strengths never fail her, and may her senses and instincts always guide her to remain steadfast and true in service to the kingdom. To my beloved sister, Princess Luna, and to the future of Equestria!” She raised her pint in salute to the mare.
The tavern roared with approval as glasses were raised.
The sisters drank together, each smiling to the other, until their eyes widened. Their horns flashed briefly, then fizzled as their drinks both fell to the floor. A ragged gasp escaped their chests synchronously. The whole of the gathering was suddenly silent as all eyes fell on the princesses, and a low murmur of concern waved through the room.
“Luna, did you…?” Celestia asked as she stared into her sister’s startled eyes, an expression mirrored on her own face.
“We need to get back.” Luna nodded.
“We’re sorry, everyone. We’ll have to return another time. Please, carry on with your feasting. We have some business to attend to.” Celestia’s horn lit up with a radiance that she had not shown in some time. When the light faded, she was gone. Luna followed close behind with a flash of blue, leaving behind a gentle sifting cloud of silvery stardust in her wake.
The murmur arose again, but this time it was not the merry buzz of a victory party. No, this was the tension of warriors put on edge. Those who were religious prayed silently to their gods. If there was something that rattled the princesses, it would likely rattle them all.
Hammer Strike sighed to himself as he sat on his throne. While there weren't any meetings to attend to, he had made it a point to keep himself available within the castle at certain points in the day to deal with any issues that may appear. He was caught off guard, however, as the familiar groan of the TARDIS faded in, and before him she appeared.
“A little late, but, better than never.” He chuckled. “Somewhat strange, though. He usually doesn’t land in the throne room,” he muttered to himself as he stood from the throne.
The doors creaked open, and The Doctor clopped out, took one look at Hammer Strike, and promptly reared, fell onto his back, and bleated. “Oh, gods,” he panted. “Don’t scare me like that! These hearts aren’t as young as they used to be.”
Hammer Strike raised a brow, “You appear to be quite on edge. Is something wrong?”
“It’s complicated,” the Pony said as he clambered to his hooves and drew closer to the doors. “The good news is she’s alive. The … bad news is … well … you might want to sit down.”
“Don’t give me that. Open those doors fully.”
“Hammer Strike, I really don’t think—”
Hammer Strike gave a firm stomp of his hoof. “TARDIS?”
The doors inexplicably flung out with enough force to send The Doctor catapulting to the floor. He slid with his face dragging until he slowed to a stop at Hammer Strike’s hooves. Seconds later, a large stone statue levitated out the door. The glint of gold and a bright blue stone that glinted with a white star that crossed its center, fringed with a purple tinge.
After a minute of staring, Hammer Strike finally let out a soft, “Oh.”
“I tried, Hammer Strike. I really did.” He stared forlornly back at the mare. A haunted look came over his face. “I couldn’t save her.” He shook his head. “Failed again,” he muttered.
“I…” Hammer Strike took a breath to steady himself. “I don’t blame you,” he finished softly.
The Doctors’ pupils shrank to pinpricks. His breathing was shallow, and his voice shook as he drew himself back up. It was more of a stagger than a proper rise. “You … you what?”
“I don’t blame you, Doctor.” Hammer Strike’s expression dropped as he gazed once more at the statue of the mare who had been his companion and lover for so many years.
“How…?”
Hammer Strike inhaled before turning towards the Doctor. “Doctor, you may do plenty of good, but that does not mean ill will is not cast toward you or those assisting you at the time. She knew the risk.” He exhaled. “She knew. We both knew. But it’s not like you call out for it to happen.”
“She … she’s not dead yet,” he offered weakly. “Temporal lock of sorts, suspended animation. Until … until….” He swallowed heavily.
The Doctor nodded. “I’ll … I’ll go. Just ….” He paused at the doors. “Call on me if you need anything, all right? I’ll come.”
“I know.” Hammer Strike sighed.
The Doctor nodded the once, then strode into the spacious control room. His hoofbeats seemed to echo in both their ears as he strode into the far quieter TARDIS. The doors creaked closed behind him, and the ship began to fade as the engines engaged again. Finally, Hammer Strike was left alone with his wife.
“I wondered when that was going to happen,” Vital Spark said quietly as he looked away from the screen. The view from the monitor had brought back some bittersweet memories.
“But I don’t understand. What happened to her?” Twilight asked.
“A poison.” The doctor sighed heavily and shook his head. “One that was meant for me.”
“I assume this was something more potent than the average Flames of Tartarus?” Vital Spark asked.
“Nothing so trivial,” The Doctor said. “This poison was meant to kill a Timelord, meant to be able to overcome regeneration.”
“Is that even possible?” Twilight asked.
“Yes, but not easily,” The Doctor noted. “My kind thought we’d destroyed such knowledge.”
“You know what Grif says about knowledge, Doctor,” Vital noted.
“Doesn’t mean all knowledge survives,” The Doctor countered. “There are things lost to time that will remain lost.”
“Honestly, I don’t think whatever higher powers there are up there would allow weaknesses to be completely forgotten or lost forever. Everything that’s mortal has a weakness. Heck, even immortal creatures have weaknesses.” Vital shrugged. “Nature just doesn’t allow something to be invincible.”
“Maybe, but such poisons are far worse for non-timelords, as you may have noticed.”
Vital shook his head. “You don’t need to remind me.”
“Anyway, now you are aware of how that time loop started,” the Doctor said tersely.
“So, what do we do now? Does that mean we’re close?” Vital Spark asked.
“Possibly.” The Doctor shrugged. “I’m not entirely sure.”
“I hope the return trip won’t take so long,” Rarity said as she looked over her husband’s haunted face. “The sooner we can get him back to the present, the sooner he can let go of his grief. Clover and I will both see to that.”
“I think you should really think about how deep that goes before you make declarations, Rarity,” Grif said from the corner of the room. “Better to be aware if you’ll need a snorkel or an oxygen tank.”
“I never said it was going to be easy, Grif,” Rarity said. “But we’re his wives. We will do whatever we can to help. And if he doesn’t want it, then we’ll give him the space he needs. Your advice is appreciated, however, and duly noted.”
“Rarity, … I still mourn the loss of my entire town. Even with rebuilding New Unity, that darkness will never fully go away. Also, Clover was almost Hammer Strike’s equal, and … while you are an element bearer, and so can live as long as Hammer Strike, this is a cheat number unknown with Clover and death. Unless she grows wings, Hammer Strike will have that darkness of worry and loss always clouding his heart.” He snorted. “I’m sorry to take my leave, Rarity, but I need to clear my head. I’ll be in the training room if you need me.” He strode to the door and his hoofbeats clanged along the metal floor.
“Should we ready the welcome mat, then?” Vital Spark asked.
Derpy smiled. “I’ll go make some muffins.”
“I could do it,” Hammer Strike spoke softly. “I could break you out of that stone and remove any ailment in an instant.”
He looked up at her face. “But, I can’t. Gods, I want to,” he continued. “I want to just fix this all and never have to worry about it again, but I can’t.” He grit his teeth. “It would be so easy. I did it before, but that’s the thing. I did it before. I couldn’t do it temporarily. I couldn’t put you through that.” His voice almost cracked as his gaze lowered.
The doors to the great hall blew apart as Luna charged through, followed closely by her sister. Their horns blazed in a frantic display that Hammer Strike hadn’t seen in the mares since before their training.
“Father, Mother. Is she—?” Celestia didn’t have the chance to ask more. There was the statue. There was the stallion. Just as the two sisters had seen. “Merciful Faust, no,” she said hoarsely.
“What happened?” Luna asked. Tears trailed down her cheeks. The merriment of the guild hall tavern had long since been left behind.
“She,” he took a breath. “She was poisoned with something beyond medical help.”
“How?” Luna asked. “We have the best mages in the world, alchemists, a lich. Surely, we could have found an antidote!”
“She’ll have seconds to live outside of this petrification, and the poison isn’t active in stone. By the divine, I want to do everything to cure her, but I know the course of events to come.”
Celestia’s head whipped to face her father. “How, exactly?”
“Don’t you remember? I didn’t come from this point in time.” Hammer Strike frowned. “I suppose you might not have been told in the end.”
Celestia frowned. “Then why did we...?”
“That may have been my fault.” A familiar voice spoke from the corner of the room as an all-too-familiar Gryphon appeared from an open window.
“It’s been awhile, Hermes,” Hammer Strike commented.
“Yes,” Hermes said with a sigh. “Seems like I was too long, if anything.” He hugged the caduceus closely to himself as he looked at the statue sadly.
“What do you mean when you say it might have been your fault, Hermes?” Celestia asked. Her gaze narrowed in suspicion. “I didn’t even get to finish my question.”
“I may not have Apollo's gift for foresight but it’s not entirely outside my purview,” Hermes said as he held his staff outwards. “Especially when it involves travelers or medicine.”
“And what does that have to do with what Luna and I saw?”
“I was attempting to warn you.” Hermes sighed. He pointed a talon, and it was that moment Luna and Celestia both felt a stinging behind their ear, which was revealed to be a snake bite. “I suppose it’s obvious that I failed.”
“But you were nowhere near us,” Luna said in bewilderment.
“And we didn’t sense any of your magic,” Celestia added. “How…?”
“Caduceus has many more options than I do,” Hermes said as the gold seemed to recede momentarily, revealing the two asps who flickered their tongues at the princesses.
“Then … what are we to do now?” Celestia finally asked.
“For now,” Hammer Strike spoke up, “you’ll … have to say your goodbyes. She’ll be back one day, but it won’t be anytime soon.”
Hermes approached the statue and placed the golden staff against it. Gold light weaved around the statue’s form before fading. “I’ve made sure the stone will be protected from the years until the traveler finds her way home.”
“And we will keep watch,” Celestia said fiercely.
“We’ll keep it safe,” Luna added.
“I’ll take my leave,” Hermes said. “I’ll talk with you later, Hammer Strike.” He nodded in the king’s direction.
The sound of rapidly approaching hooves echoed as the galloper approached. It didn’t take much longer for Star Swirl to be on the scene. He gaped at the doors, then looked to the others. “What happened here? Has there been an attack?”
Hammer Strike sighed. “No, Star Swirl, there has not.” He glanced to Celestia and Luna and gave both a brief nod of dismissal.
The two made their way wordlessly out of the room with Hermes close behind. The two girls would be lost for a time as they sought to navigate their grief. The least he could do was watch over them and try to help them reach their destination safely. The doors were levitated back into their place behind them, though the doors were still splintered and barely stayed put.
Star Swirl frowned as he applied his magics to the doors and they began to repair themselves. “A cloud hovers darker over you than usual, Hammer Strike. What has happened?”
“You’re seeing it.” Hammer Strike looked to Clover’s statue once more.
“A gift for Clover? Or something more?” The sorcerer approached the statue, then stopped to gape at the mare when he noticed the star sapphire that hung from her neck. “What did this, a cocatrix, a basilisk?” His horn lit as he prepared to cast a spell. “I’ll have her back momentarily.”
“Stop.” Hammer Strike’s voice sounded more like a feral beast than a Pony. “You remove her from that petrification, she dies.”
Star Swirl’s horn faded to normalcy as he looked gravely on the Earth Pony. “Tell me what happened.”
“Her journey with The Doctor went south. She’ll be cured one day, but it’s not any time soon.”
Star Swirl’s pupils shrank as his breathing became unsteady. A feral snort and sputter gave vent to his anger. “What did that walking aberration do to my little girl?”
“Do not call him that. This situation was out of his hooves.”
“And how would you know? You can’t have been there. If you were, she never would have been in this state in the first place!” For perhaps the first and only time in Equestria’s history, tears swam in the wizard’s eyes.
“I would suggest you bite. Your. Tongue.” Hammer Strike grit his teeth.
“I will not!” Star Swirl contested hotly. “Whether she washed her hooves of me or not, I have the right to care for her and her fate, just as you do!”
“I will not fall for such crocodile tears,” he said as his voice became more forceful, even as it retained the same tone. “I know the machinations of your psyche after years of studying it. While you took her in, it was not out of kindness. It was a necessary act to keep things in line, and your future secure.”
“I took her in because she needed someone to guide her on the right path!” Star Swirl snapped. “Or would you rather I left her to fester and become something evil when I could stop it?”
“And where did all that ‘compasion’ go when you practically tortured her as she grew?” Hammer Strike’s fury began to show. “Your so-called ‘right path’ led you down the most careful path you could take, with not an ounce of power to come from it!”
“And look where that power got her!” Star Swirl’s horn flashed with his anger.
Hammer Strike’s eyes glowed brighter as suddenly all magic was snuffed out within the room. “Indeed. Look at the progress she made. Head of the mage court. Teacher of many students.” He took several long steps toward Star Swirl. “Queen. Of. Unity.”
Star Swirl stared defiantly at Hammer Strike as he approached and stood his ground. He opened his mouth to speak.
Hammer Strike didn’t give him the opportunity.
“I’m not finished!” he yelled. “She stood more than a lifetime away from you. Do not dare attempt to claim some righteous stance against this all. You are little more than a wielder of cheap tricks and petty illusions!” The room practically shook from his fury.
“I may be less powerful than you, but I do not act on mere illusion and tricks.” Star Swirl took a deep breath. “We are both high strung. It would be best I take my leave of you until we can both speak with clearer heads.”
“Never return, Star Swirl.” Hammer Strike shook his head. “You have nothing to offer Unity.”
Star Swirl turned and strode to the entrance. He barely managed to pull one of the heavy doors open. He stopped to look back only once. “And you may have offered too much.”
Hammer Strike stomped his hoof as the doors closed firmly. After a moment, he sighed. “If he weren’t so pathetic, he would have proven to be at least a decent mage.” He frowned before turning towards Clover once more. “I should move you somewhere safe.”
The caravan of travelers going to and from the capital flowed like a tide. Minotaurs, Zebras, Unicorns, Pegasi, Earth Ponies, Diamond Dogs, Gryphons, Hippogriffs, and even a strange race of bipedal cats streamed through the ornate gates of the outer ring of the great city. The whole of the country had been so well policed and guarded over the centuries that few, if any, raised so much as a brow at the sudden groaning and materialization of the strange blue box.
The doors swung inward with a loud creak, followed by a tangle of blue and purple feathers as two winged creatures rolled onto the dirt in a dusty mess.
The Doctor sighed as they exited the police box. “Please try to show some discretion.”
Vital Spark chuckled as he stepped out of the box. “I never expected to see Pensword acting this much like a foal.”
The Pegasus in question finally managed to disentangle himself from Twilight and slowly rose to his hooves to dust himself off. “Doctor, I will do my best, but in a very long ago past, I was a historian maniac. I can only promise so much.”
Twilight was too busy gaping at the city walls to comment. Her eyes sparkled like stars as she gazed on the soaring walls and golden guardhouses that stood atop the battlements. Ballistae and other siege weaponry had been mounted atop the walls alongside various guards, and a wavering in the air surrounding the gates indicated the degree of enchantments that had been placed over the area to prevent any foul play.
“Doctor, any enchantments or wards we should be aware of? I don’t want our first meeting with Hammer Strike to be in chains,” Pensword said.
Grif darted out of the TARDIS and proceeded to throw a cloak over the princess. “Geeze, Twilight! You want to cause a fuss?” he growled.
“Why would I—?”
Rarity trotted out next. “Darling, think a moment. We’re in the past, and you’re—”
“Something that has not been seen outside of two sisters,” Pensword interrupted quickly. Then he facehooved. “I can’t believe I didn’t catch that. I was too caught up in the large scale problems.”
Twilight suddenly looked sheepish. “Oh, … I … hadn’t considered that. I would look like … an undesirable, wouldn’t I?”
“Don’t worry, Twilight. It happens to everyone.” Derpy beamed as she carried a wicker basket full to the brim with muffins. “Let’s go say hi to Hammer Strike.”
As Grif reached up to check his weapons, a breezy voice whispered, “Thank you.” His talons touched the studded leather of the armor he’d been wearing prior to the coat's appearance.
His eyes widened visibly. “The coat,” he said as he quickly checked his gear, sighing with relief to find everything where it should be.
“Well, I think Hammer Strike is going to know we are here,” Pensword quipped worriedly. “Should we stay out here or still risk going into the city? Hammer Strike most likely will have trained guards to spot anomalies like us right away.”
“I could always sneak past while you all, wait, and bring him back,” Grif pointed out.
Pensword looked at Grif. “And you don’t think he’d have counters for your sneaking?”
“Besides, do you really think I’m going to miss a chance like this? Actually seeing Equestria in its real golden age! I can’t believe it!” Twilight squealed in delight and clapped her forehooves excitedly.
“Maybe those nice looking guards can give us a tour,” Derpy said as she pointed toward a squad of troops approaching with military precision.
“Doctor,” the lead called out, scanning over the group until they settled onto his cutie mark. “Would you allow a brief scan to ensure your identity?”
“Of course, gentle stallions, of course.” The doctor nodded. “If I may request we do this out of the public eye? One of my companions may cause … issues.”
“We’ve noticed.” The lead nodded before gesturing toward the wall.
A Unicorn in the unit stepped forward and gave a small nod. “It’ll be quick.” His horn glowed briefly before he nodded and stepped back once more. “Two. He’s clear.”
“All right, we’ll have to run through the standard procedure, so please follow us to the main gate. Traffic has slowed in the recent hour, so there should be little delays.”
They followed quickly and quietly to the main gate, making a point to not show any resistance when asked to do something, up to disarming, but the Ponies seemed to understand Gryphons’ unwillingness to be unarmed.
“King Hammer Strike has been made aware of your arrival. Should your business involve him, his schedule is clear. If not, you are permitted to move about the city at your leisure.” The guard turned toward Twilight. “Please keep your cloak on. We understand you are traveling with The Doctor, but civilians may be put off.”
Twilight gulped but nodded her head in understanding.
“Our business does involve Hammer Strike, but it isn’t urgent,” Grif spoke. “Two of our number would like to appreciate the city for a time, if it is possible?”
“So long as you abide by our laws, there should be no issues.”
“May I have a list of rules?” Pensword asked.
“Beyond the standard rules of any city, such as theft being against the law, keep your weapons sheathed, unless a situation comes forth that requires it.”
“I don’t suppose there is a line of credit set aside for such times? I doubt our bits are quite up to your current standard,” Grif noted.
He nodded.“We can trade your currency for our gold standard here at the guardhouse.”
Derpy walked up to the guard and handed him a muffin. “Thank you for your service.”
“Uh,” the guard seemed puzzled for a moment before nodding. “Appreciated...?”
Grif gave the guard a bag of bits to be converted. When he received his money, he nodded. “We’ll head to the palace first. Maybe one of the princesses can give Twilight a decent glamour. And then, and only then,” he said pointedly as he looked at Twilight. “We’ll see about letting you see the city. With supervision, of course.”
“And no, Twilight, it can’t be me. I am worried I’d pull a Twilight myself here. You’ve never seen me in a full on Titanic episode,” Penword said.
“Who, then?” Twilight asked.
“I’m pretty sure Grif meant himself. He’s very good at policing these kinds of things,” Vital noted.
“Twilight will probably have to limit her interaction with Celestia and Luna as much as possible,” Rarity added. “After all, we don’t want to risk their discovering the future Twilight has with them.”
“Rarity … remember a certain tree? Celestia most likely knew about Twilight from the moment she earned her cutie mark. What if she knows this much longer? This could be a closed time loop,” Pensword commented.
“Less talking, more walking,” The Doctor said hastily. “The sooner we get this over with, the sooner Derpy and I can get back to our private business. Come on, you lot!”
The party started the trip with their escort surrounding them. And all the while, Pensword engaged in a series of queries with the one Pony that knew history better than he ever could.
Hammer Strike hummed to himself. He was alerted to the presence of The Doctor and a large group of companions. While he was unsure on whether it was them or not, his worries were alleviated when he noticed a familiar weight fall over him. It was a comforting feeling as he glanced down and noticed an old familiar sight of blue and gold, though it had been so long, it was almost alien again.
That, and the pauldrons were new.
“You’ve certainly changed.” Hammer Strike blinked in confusion before pulling his coat open and adjusting it, revealing the glittering interior. His previous coat was made from the ursa supremus fur. Now it was the interior of his previous coat, as galaxies blinked in and out from within.
“It’s good to be home,”a breezy soft voice echoed in his mind.
“Who are you?” Harmony’s voice rang like a crystal bell at the sensation of the new presence.
“I…” Hammer Strike was caught off guard. “I think that was my coat?”
“The Maker has not given me a name,” the voice explained. “I am his, and he is mine. And I will continue to carry his burdens.”
“Then you are welcome. In a way, you remind me of myself. I look forward to exploring this new … acquaintance.”
“This is going to be interesting,” Hammer Strike muttered. “We’ll discuss things later. For now, they’re almost here.”
The doors were opened and a large group of individuals, most of them familiar, walked into the room. They all had their eyes on Hammer Strike and his throne as they walked forward, until a white and purple blur slammed into him.
Hammer Strike couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle as he returned the embrace. “And here I planned to greet you all in an attempt to mislead you. Though, I suppose I should have anticipated this.”
“Well, let’s say there’s a lot more you’ll be able to try to anticipate later.” She smiled and hugged him again. “I did miss you, darling. I’m just sorry it took us so long to reach you.”
He gave a smirk. “It was only roughly two thousand years. You act as though it was a long time for you all. Though, I’m certain the little snips that the TARDIS gave you provided some insight onto what happened over those years.”
“You’ve been through hell,” Grif said.
“Yeah, but Asmodeus was quite hospitable about it all.” Hammer Strike shrugged. “Or did you mean in the metaphorical sense?”
“You actually got to walk through Hell?” Vital gaped at the Pony.
“I guess I didn’t feel her watching over in there, so I guess you didn’t see that part.” Hammer Strike hummed.
“I am not surprised. But one of your … companions gave me the willies,” Pensword quipped.
“Ainz, Lord, Rem and Rom, or Binding?” Hammer Strike asked. “To be fair, Binding would be less on that list if he didn’t do the whole glowing glasses enchantment. Sure, it helps him read in the dark, but it seems to unsettle individuals around him.”
“You mean it makes him look like some evil mastermind?” Vital asked.
“That title goes to others.” Hammer Strike shook his head. “Heck, even I was called that after the whole scale throne deal.” He shrugged. “Can’t blame them at all.”
“And half of those we are going to meet in the present,” Pensword noted. “I’m talking about Lord, though, specifically. He gives me the most willies, but the others less so.”
“Well, he is a literal archdevil, so it makes sense.”
“Ar—” Pensword choked. “Only you would come back with more strength than when you left.”
Derpy smiled and presented her basket. “I baked these especially for you, Hammer Strike. I hope you’re hungry.”
Hammer Strike chuckled. “I appreciate it, Derpy. I’ll have to enjoy them later, as I just ate not too long ago. I’m sure you all are curious about everything. I wouldn’t expect anything different of Twilight back there.” He smirked. “I honestly didn’t anticipate you coming along.”
“Celestia said she couldn’t come. I came in her stead,” Twilight explained. “Though I admit I didn’t expect to see you become the founder of Equestria.”
Hammer Strike hummed. “Fair enough. Though, as I’m sure The Doctor has told you already, try not to give too much information of the future to Celestia and Luna, all right?”
“I promise,” Twilight swore. “Actually, Grif suggested I go see them to ask their help with a glamour charm. And since I can’t really do magic here….” Her horn fizzled as a few stray sparks popped and then drifted slowly to the floor. “Your defenses are very thorough.”
“I’ve sent a summons for Binding. He should be here shortly. With that, we can create a pseudo contract to allow you all to use your respective magics within Equestria.” Hammer Strike nodded. “Also, yes. I spent countless years developing the defenses of Equestria to every detail I could find.”
“As to be expected.” Grif laughed. “Not like you to be caught unaware for anything.”
“It’s certainly happened more times than I like.” Hammer Strike gave a small smile. “They came with some side effects, but I’ll live.”
“Any day you wake up on this side, right?”
“Close enough, I suppose.” He gave a faint chuckle. “I see you took care of my coat for me.” He raised his hoof to look at said coat. “Though, some things are new.”
“It’s not still ravenous, is it?” Vital asked nervously.
“I’d certainly hope not.” Hammer Strike raised a brow. “Did something happen on the way here?”
“Not that we’re aware of. I just wanted to be on the safe side,” Vital said. Then he chuckled. “You know how paranoid I can be sometimes. Or is that … simple?”
His expression darkened, and his lips curled slightly. “Star Swirl will call you that, but I suppose it’s a mix of paranoia on top of other things.”
“So, how long is it gonna take you before you can go?” Grif asked.
Hammer Strike frowned as his eyes dimmed. “Rough estimate of … ten days.” His eyes returned to standard brightness less than a second later.
“You got a place for us to stay in here?” Grif asked.
“This castle has many rooms. You’ll each have a place to stay.”
“I’m glad.” Vital Spark smiled. “We missed you, Hammer Strike. It’ll be good to catch up on the things we couldn’t see.”
“I’m quite positive there was plenty, considering you all haven’t aged to two thousand years old.”
“To be fair,” Grif chuckled, “neither have you.”
“To a point,” Hammer Strike replied. “Though it certainly has changed me, as I don’t remember you all being this much smaller than me.”
“Yeah, you have a tendency to do that a lot, I’ve noticed,” Vital said with a smile.
“That is an understatement,” Pensword said.
One flash of light later, a tall Unicorn with flashing glasses stood menacingly under the light cast through one of the many stained glass windows. “You called for me, Hammer Strike?”
“Yeah, we’ve got a few ‘base’ contracts that need to be made,” Hammer Strike replied, gesturing behind him.
“Which clearance: full access, friends of the state, or something in between?”
“Nearly full clearance.”
He turned to observe the new guests and pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, then smiled. “Very well. Who’s first?”
Vital Spark marvelled at the great stone caverns as the ring of pick and chisel blended with mechanical whirr and thick powerful paws clawing deep into the earth. Unlike the Diamond Dogs of the present, these Diamond Dogs were well-groomed, organized, and vastly intelligent as they crossed through the many tunnels and bridges that had been carved or coaxed into being through various means and machinations.
“To think how all of this was dug over the last millennia.”
“King Hammer Strike has been very good to these canines,” Rem said. As usual, she wore her maid’s outfit. Her mace hung at her side, ready to use at any moment. “Most of their kind are doomed to walk through Hell for their crime and the crimes that the generations have committed since in an attempt to reclaim their lost heritage.” She shook her head sadly. “Give them enough time, and their souls won’t even be worth the effort of harvesting. A terrible waste. And my lord and king both despise waste.”
“That bad?”
“That basic,” she clarified. “They will have a semblance of culture. They will be sapient, capable of speech and interaction with others. But much of the power claimed from a soul comes from the depth of depravity to which the soul can be taken. The more complex and devious the sin, the greater the flavor, and the more potent they are to process or repurpose into something new. Some could become very useful fiends and minions. Others could power spells or provide sustenance. It depends on what the demon chooses to do with it.” She shrugged.
“And what would you do with souls like that?”
Rem shrugged again. “I would give them to our lord. I am his servant, and I serve him gladly.”
“I wonder. After this, would it be possible for you to give me some more detailed instruction about your kind? I haven’t been able to really study that part of magic yet, and it would be interesting to learn of some of the species of demons and thralls that can be found on your plane.”
Rem quirked a brow. “Curious. You do not despise me and my kind for what we do?”
“Just because I don’t approve of the actions doesn’t mean I can’t get to know the person. If Hammer Strike trusts you, then why shouldn’t I?”
Rem cocked her head as she looked in confusion. “You are a strange Pony, Vital Spark.”
“Is that a yes?”
The mare shrugged. “My sister is the more scholarly of us. You should direct your inquiries to her.” She pulled the Unicorn along and dragged him across a particularly broad stone bridge sparkling with mineral deposits. “Come along. The alpha is waiting for us. We don’t want to be rude.”
Harmony hadn’t just grown under Hammer Strike’s care. She thrived over the years as Unity grew from a small stretch of land to village to town to city to capital. All while under the guiding hoof and loving care of Hammer Strike and his staff. Her trunk had swelled and thickened into a gorgeous prismatic display marked with the symbols of sun and moon, carved as it were, into her very being. Her boughs jutted and curled while crystals draped under certain patches of her branches in mimicry of a weeping willow. Pale rainbows and luminescence lit up the otherwise darkened space as the tree pulsed happily. Harmony materialized instantly, and she smiled softly as the familiar clop of Hammer Strike’s hooves carried him into the space.
“It’s time,” he called out.
“You always knew they would come,” the mare said gently as she approached him. Unlike the Earth Pony, her hooves could make no sound, but her branches jingled to synthesize the ringing of her steps. “And yet, you are sad to go.”
“Of course, but... “ he sighed. “Well, I’m needed.”
“We both are, in our own ways. You know what is to come. You will be there for this kingdom, always when you are needed most. They may not remember you as king, but they will never truly forget you.” She paused, then laid her spectral head against his. “I will never forget you.”
“I’d hope not.” He gave a soft chuckle. “Once I’m back, I’ll find you once more.”
“And I will maintain your vigil over the children,” she promised. “And over Clover.”
“I appreciate that.” He sighed. “It’ll be a long time before I arrive, and I’m sure you will suffer some hardships. But once I return, I’ll work to make things right again. That, and maybe relocate your physical body.”
“Relocate? Is that even possible”
“Yeah, though you may be an embodiment, you have a physical state of a tree. I just have to be careful of your roots.”
Especially since I’m crystal.”
“That part is manageable, thankfully.” He smiled. “I’m sorry, though. Without the tether, your sight may become quite limited.”
“You might be surprised.” She smiled knowingly. “We will remain bound. And if I must wait for your return, I will. But there is enough harmony and order here to sustain me and my vision for some time to come.”
“That’s good.” He nodded. “I do wonder what it will be like to be briefly disconnected, as I will be in the Tardis.”
“I would assume you will feel much the same. Perhaps even stronger, since I no longer have to feed on your power to sustain me.”
“Perhaps, but something you may not realize is that you have had an effect on my mind since the tether first began. I can still recall when we first made this pact, and even now I still feel that strange … calming effect. Similar to an unheard rhythm in constant motion.”
“That is what I am.” She smiled. “I believe you will do well. You have many friends and loved ones to surround you. They will support you for so long as you have the need.”
“We shall see soon enough I suppose.” He gave a soft sigh. “I have more preparations to make. I must be off for now.”
“Be well, Hammer Strike, … Shawn. I … I will wait for you for as long as it takes.” Her projection blushed.
Hammer Strike gave a small chuckle. “Been awhile since I heard that name.”
Harmony smiled. “You know how we trees are. We can’t afford to forget our roots. And I will never forget yours.”
The Pony smiled as he turned back to the cavern’s tunnel. “You’ll be hearing it in the future. That’s for certain.”
“I look forward to the day.”
Pensword was currently reading a small note card next to a display case that held a feathered cap. It had come from some noble that had tried to be an emissary to another noble house. The cap was all they found of one of Hammer Strike’s emissaries.
The information that he learned drew a furrow of the brow as he moved forward to the next case in the hall. He stepped aside nimbly as a few foals raced around him. It was refreshing to enjoy some anonymity, where he could just be a regular Pony. He was learning so much about Unity, so much that even legends didn’t talk about. Pensword moved farther down the hall, as he was currently reading on the folding of the first destitute Unicorn houses and how they had grown since coming under Unity’s banner.
He froze and stared up at the next portrait. His jaw dropped. There was what had to be something that would make the modern-day Unicorns would flip their lids. He saw a Unicorn as pure as snow, with a mane like spun gold. At his left was a Pegasus mare that had fur and wings as blue as a summer day, with a mane as dark as a thunderstorm. On his right was a Thestral with a mane as white as the moon and fur as dark as the night. Pensword’s ears flicked as those around him passed by, barely giving a glance at the portrait.
“That one was painted by Hammer Strike, himself, as a gift to the family when they joined together.” The Unicorn that stood by Pensword smiled forlornly and pushed his glasses up his nose. “Those were the days. Fancy Coat was an honest stallion, and a fine student of the mystic arts.” He chuckled. “I still remember when Clover nearly blew his hooves off after he couldn’t take the hint to leave her alone.”
Pensword turned his head to look at who had decided to suddenly appear next to him. He hadn’t heard a sound, nor did any of the information other than names appear in the plaque next to the portrait, not even who painted it. “Wha—?” he babbled out
The stallion chuckled. “Surprised, Pensword? Let’s just say I know my way around the city. And given certain unique attributes, you could call me a local historian of sorts.”
“Ah, so you must be a stallion of more than one talent,” Pensword spoke, “From your unique magic to now being a historian? Next thing you’ll be saying that you’re an accomplished writer.”
Well, contracts are my specialty.” Binding Strategy chuckled. “Writing is just a part of the job.”
Pensword chuckled. “I hope I wasn’t too much of a pain in reading over the contract before signing and agreeing to it.”
“It seems a little much that you would doubt my sincerity when I’m bound to your lord by a far stronger one, but I can understand your desire for caution. I’m told that you were quite the warrior. Or rather that you will yet be in the far-flung future.”
“That is very true. And that means I don’t enter into anything that I don’t understand or have a sure knowledge I can get through the event. But I am happy to hear you are not offended by my need to check for myself.”
“I used to be young, myself, and I know how it feels to have others try to take advantage of you for their own selfish reasons.” He nodded. “I assume you are interested in your own history as well. I don’t know how much Hammer Strike would authorize you to see, but I don’t see the harm of looking at how he united the tribes.”
“I am very much interested in learning about it, to see my history and that of my people.”
Binding smiled. “Then I am at your service. Be careful what you wish for, though, Pensword. You may be surprised by what you find.”
“Binding, The doctor showed me that Hammer Strike is our first High Chief. I highly doubt anything will surprise me any more than that.”
Binding smirked. “Perhaps. But then again, perhaps not. Shall we find out?”
“Binding, I’ve seen a lot of things, so I highly doubt that.”
“You’ll see….”
Grif had managed through no small effort to wrestle some valuable alone time with Vital watching Pensword and Twilight. Grif hoped Vital knew what he was in for while he walked into the Gryphon sector of Unity. The compound was less built up than the Bladefeather compound back in the present. Wooden houses of various make-ups were spread almost chaotically around. Most had places on the roof for takeoff and landing. Around him, Gryphons and Hippogriffs went back and forth looking after their daily business. It seemed like there were more Hippogriffs than Gryphons, but Grif hadn’t stopped to confirm it. He wasn’t here for a census. There were questions he needed answered. Finally, he found what he was looking for. Amongst the wooden houses was a single stone one, not necessarily isolated, but with a fair amount of room between it and the next house.
“Some might say it’s just outside of fireball distance.” Grif chuckled to himself as he approached the building. He gave a slow hard knock and waited, hoping the occupant or occupants were at home.
The portal to the house swung open on a clever hinge that, despite the weight it bore, opened without a sound. A pair of golden eyes flashed over a streamlined beak. Black and white feathers speckled with streaks of sooty gray flowed back over the great hawk’s face. He carried neither robe nor sacred ornament. The only thing to tell the Gryphon apart from his fellows was the unique construction of his house and the massive chunk of rose quartz that hung from a chain around his neck. He narrowed his gaze suspiciously at the Gryphon.
“I’m not taking on apprentices,” he growled brusquely.
“And I’m not here to apprentice,” Grif responded levelly as he retained solid eye contact. “I’ve come seeking some information.”
“On?” The Gryphon folded his arms and leaned casually against his doorframe. “Must be something unusual to come to me when we’ve got libraries full to the brim.”
“I’d need to step inside before I can get into that,” Grif said. It was hard enough just to keep up with the conversation thus far. The dialect here was ancient. So old, in fact, that Grif was having to take time to form his words. He pulled out a small sack of gold. “I’ll pay you for your time.”
The evoker narrowed his gaze suspiciously. “I’m no mercenary, cub. If it’s important, I’m willing to listen, but I need a reason to allow you into my home first.”
“Perhaps this will add some weight to my words, then.” Grif reached behind him and unstrapped his bow. He triggered it to unfold and reveal the ruby that had been embedded within it. “I trust you know what this is?”
“An intricate weapon.” He peered closely at the device. “May I?”
“Be my guest.” Grif nodded and passed the bow over.
“Clever hinges,” he noted. “Small, but well crafted. The trigger is easy to grasp, but safeguarded against accidental release.” He smelled the wood. “Oiled and well-kept to preserve against outside forces.” He drew a talon briefly over the drawstring. It sang as he flicked his finger ever so lightly. “And a taut string still waiting to be sprung. Yet, if my eyes do not deceive me, this bow has seen many years of use. An heirloom, perhaps?”
“From my father.” Grif nodded. “Linked to the souls of all his line from it’s creation onward. I’ll offer you my oath on this weapon and the souls connected to it that I mean you neither harm nor fraud. I have questions that need to be answered, and I dare not trust the empire as it is. In return, I will need your oath of secrecy to anything I may tell you.”
“And does this oath extend to our kingdom as well?”
“King Hammer Strike himself will back my oath if you require it, though my time isn’t so large that I can afford the trip,” Grif explained.
In the time Grif had spoken his assurance, the Gryphon had already begun looking over the weapon through the gemstone. “This weapon is old. Very old, indeed,” the evoker murmured. “The sheer number of trace magical signatures over the stone corroborates your story, at least to an extent…” He frowned as he peered closer. Then the pendant fell from his grasp and the bow began to drop with it. Time seemed to slow as, with expert skill, Grif snatched the weapon out of the air before it had the chance to fall even an inch. “My gods,” the evoker rasped hoarsely.
“Inside, please,” Grif said in a quiet tone.
The elder Gryphon was swift to comply. He shut the door hastily behind them. “A moment,” he said quickly. He raced into another room. About a minute later, he emerged bearing a blue quartz pendant embedded with a feather. A dull glow seeped from it, and the same glow flowed in a line over the entirety of the house. “There. We won’t be overheard,” he huffed.
“So, where to begin? I am guessing you have questions of your own now.” Grif sighed. “I won’t lie to you, but please understand there are things I can’t talk about. My name is Grif Bladefeather.”
“Edgar Valeyar,” the evoker returned. “You realize that there may be certain things I also cannot tell you, given the circumstances I suspect that are behind your visit.”
“Are you a Faustian, Edgar? Do you have any connection to the Winds at this point?” Grif asked.
“You ask me that after how I reacted to your weapon?”
Grif nodded. “What I'm going to tell you will sound completely outside the realm of believable, but I would hope my oath would give you the consideration not to doubt me.” Grif took a deep breath. “I’m from the future.”
“And you expect me to be shocked over this?” Edgar deadpanned. “Grif Bladefeather, I saw the threads that tied your ancestors to that ruby, and I know what that ruby is. The rest is rather obvious.”
“No,” Grif admitted as he held up a hand. Wind swirled and curved around it almost lovingly, drawing dust motes and blue sparks from the corners and seams of the room to make the current visible. “I am he who walks the path and brings the change for the coming age. I stand with my feet on the ground and my wings in the air. I am the warrior, the mage, and the priest, the last tether to the great ones who made us who we are. I am the Avatar of Winds.”
“Am I allowed to ask how far into the future you hail from?” Edgar finally said.
“The best answer to that is several thousand years,” Grif told him. “In a few centuries, a catastrophe wipes out most of the records from this era, making just how long is between my time and yours nigh impossible to tell. Much has been lost between our eras. Evokers nearly go extinct for a thousand years. And while we have some of the original notes, time has worn away a lot. Also, if Hippogriffs exist in my time, they are reclusive, which is an issue, as more are going to be born amongst my clan as well as the city in which I reside. One of my wives has the gift, and has taught herself much, but we are, as of yet, unable to sense the gift in any until they’re almost too old to train. I’ll start my questions by asking if there is a way to determine such things early on.”
“That is a difficult and complex topic to address,” Edgar admitted. “In theory, all Gryphons should have the capacity by rights. After all, magic played a heavy role in our creation. I’ve yet to determine the reason why.”
“Did Clover have a way?” Grif asked.
He shook his head. “If there is a way, you’ll have to ask the Winds or their children.”
Grif sighed. He’d expected that. “All right, then. How about we move on to….” And so Grif began what he hoped would become an informative question and answer session.
Hammer Strike sighed to himself. He had sent a message for Celestia, Luna, and Yharon to meet him in his room. They knew him leaving was eventually going to happen, but he doubted they knew it would be this soon.
Celestia was the first to arrive. Philomena had developed nicely over the years, and now cuddled the mare and preened her mane as they strode down the hall. Her mane and tail fluttered with the power that she had worked so hard to learn to master and manipulate. “You called, Father?” the mare asked.
“I’ll discuss things once your sister and brother arrive.” Hammer Strike nodded.
Luna arrived a few minutes later still dressed in her leather armor and panting slightly. “Sorry, Father. I was just returning when I got your summons.”
It took a few minutes more for Yharon to join them, but the Feather Dragon nodded to his sisters, then acknowledged their father. “It’s unusual for you to send for us like this,” he noted. “Is something the matter?”
“Well, the time has finally come.” Hammer Strike sighed. “To put it simply, I am needed elsewhere, and I won’t be returning for quite some time.”
“And how long is that, Father?” Yharon asked.
“Honestly, it’s a rough estimate of two thousand years at the very least.”
“Two thousand?” Celestia balked, and Philomena squawked as a result when her perch was suddenly disrupted.
“To explain it as simply as I can, I’m being returned to my original point in time. I will still be around in times of need, but… it won’t be ‘me,’ per se.”
“And by that, I assume you mean to imply that it will be a different iteration of you, seeing as The Doctor is here,” Yharon said.
“My younger days, I suppose you could say, before my augmentation and subsequent growth, followed by everything else. I’ll always be around when needed, but it’s time some things are restored.” Hammer Strike frowned.
“What will we do?” Luna asked. “Who will take your place?”
“You three will be. I’m sure you’ve noticed how most minor tasks have been automated. The only things that require input are those of major importance, which I’m sure the three of you can resolve.”
“A new council, then.” Yharon frowned. “You’ve been planning this for some time, haven’t you?”
“I knew this day would come eventually.” Hammer Strike nodded. “As I’ve stated, technically, this isn’t where I was supposed to be. The Alicorn Empire had ripped me from where I came from.”
“And now you have to go back….” Celestia’s mane wilted as her ears drooped.
“Yes.” Hammer Strike sighed. “They need me.”
“Will we see you again?” Luna asked.
“Of course, you will.” Hammer Strike gave a small smile. “I’ll even give you this little spoiler. You will see the beginning of my story.”
“To see the end and then move back to the beginning. A curious position to be in, indeed,” Yharon noted as he scratched his chin with a claw.
“Honestly, it’s been strange to experience it.” Hammer Strike gave a soft chuckle. “You three are practically immortal. Yes, it’ll take time for me to return, but I’ll be back again. Don’t you worry.”
“Have you told the others yet? And the kingdom? How do you plan to tell them?” Celestia asked.
“I’ll be holding a meeting to cover everything and make a speech for the kingdom to understand. I suppose I can have them believe it to be a journey of sorts.”
“Given that it’s The Doctor we’re talking about, that’s not far from the truth,” Yharon noted with a hint of a smile.
“I’ll give you all some information on running things, but for now, how about dinner? We have some guests.”
“Guests?” Luna asked.
“You didn’t get the memo on your journey, did you, Sister?” Yharon chuckled. “The Doctor brought several more … companions with him than is usual. It seems they may be friends of Father’s.”
“Huzzah!” Luna said. “Then it is a feast!”
Yharon couldn’t help but chuckle again. “Is it going to be a feast, Father?”
“Considering how much one of them eats, … yeah.”
“Then I suppose we should prepare.” Celestia nodded. “Was there anything else you needed to tell us before we go, Father?”
“Not at this point in time.”
“While many of these tomes are old, you may find that some of them contain things that our ‘present’ would benefit from,” Hammer Strike commented to Twilight. “Thankfully, most of them are in my head, so we don’t need to take any of these with us.”
“Are you planning on transcribing them, then?”
“A number of them, yes.” Hammer Strike nodded. “You are, of course, free to read through them while you are here.”
Twilight stared at the sheer size of the shelves, the vastness of the library’s contents, and the volume and sizes of the many tomes. “This is … incredible.”
“Roughly one thousand and seven hundred years’ worth of collecting.” Hammer Strike gave a small smile. “Though not all of it is available, of course.”
“How will I know what I can read and what I can’t?”
“It will either not be here or you won’t be able to take it off the shelf. Try … that one, for example.” He directed toward one of the books on a high shelf.
Twilight’s magic wrapped around the binding immediately. A dull blue aura glowed briefly, and Twilight rubbed her horn as her magic was disrupted by the thaumaturgy. “Well, that’s one way to make sure nobody takes the wrong thing,” she muttered.
“Could be worse. If you tried to steal a book from the restricted sector, it would attempt to destroy whatever it is that’s touching it,” Hammer Strike replied. “Hoof, wing, the horn that’s projecting magic in an attempt to grab it....”
Twilight shuddered. “How many people have you actually caught with that trap?”
“Nobody, sadly.”
“... Sadly?”
“Twilight, allow me to clarify something. Everyone on this planet is afraid of me,” Hammer Strike noted. “There are no real assassination attempts, no nobles fighting for power, nobody trying to steal from me. All of these traps are just … precaution.”
“Should I ask Rarity to arrange some assassins for you when you get back, then?”
“Nah. She doesn’t know how to get the good ones, and Grif wouldn’t be willing to lose more units.”
“Though, speaking of seeking knowledge, there is one thing we saw that sort of … surprised us when we were on the TARDIS. You seemed to know exactly what we would say. And you did say you could feel us when we were watching you. Does that mean that you could hear us, too?”
“Not at all.” Hammer Strike shook his head. “When the TARDIS was watching over my actions, I took into account who I thought was there and figured out their potential responses. The augments currently in my brain process the amount I know you all to determine what is likely to have been said. I didn’t know you would be coming with, so I didn’t account for any responses to you, but I know you well enough to know what you’re likely to say and do before you do them.”
“Well, I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.” Twilight sighed. “You’ve been able to read me from the first day we met.”
“I could guess, yes. Now it’s more accurate.” Hammer Strike chuckled. “It’s … interesting, to say the least.”
“And not much fun?” Twilight guessed.
“To be honest Twilight, I’m running out of ‘fun’ things, since I’m going on... “ Hammer Strike frowned. “Jeez, yeah, nearly two thousand years old.”
“How did you manage to stay like this, anyway?”
“A device from the Alicorn Empire, a medical cube meant to rejuvenate individuals within. It … practically tears me apart and puts me back together. That’s at least the best way I can explain it, as it renders me unconscious.”
Twilight winced. “That … sounds less than pleasant.”
“Thankfully, I haven’t been awake during any of it. Though, I’ve run the machine so much that it’s starting to wear down a little.” Hammer Strike sighed. “But I shouldn’t have to worry about it for much longer. Now I should be able to lock it up and hope I can alter my own divine seed to assist in that regard.”
“What exactly is a divine seed?” Twilight asked. “The Doctor tried to explain it to us, but he couldn't really get into specifics.”
Hammer Strike hummed for a moment. “To put it simply, not all gods started their existence as they were. Some were … well, born into it. Many are born with what is called a Divine Seed, a special trace of primal energy that can grow as the individual does. Most tend to burn out and never reach farther than amplifying the user. Others feed it, and it grows until they can, potentially, ascend.
He sighed. “My fury was fed by drawing in power to ‘deal’ with the Dragons. In turn, my own divine seed resonated with my fury and fueled it. I can control it somewhat now, but at the time, I nearly fueled it too much.”
“And that seed is still too charged now?”
“Divine seeds don’t lose power. They redirect it. The only way it can be lessened is for it to be taken, and there isn’t a mortal on this planet that could do it to me. So, I took my time to learn how to direct it, at least, to a minor degree.”
“So, what does that mean for your future? Are you going to ascend to be an Alicorn?”
“I hope not.” Hammer Strike chuckled. “Though, if it was between that and the alternative, I suppose I’d have to take that.”
“I … think I may already know this answer, but, … what’s the alternative?”
“Divinity. A worse alternative, if I had to go by Faust, Slephnir, Bonnie, the Winds, Bahamut and the like.” He chuckled, noting the presence brought by his naming.
“So, what will happen when you perform this redirection?”
“It will assist in whatever I direct it to. Notably intimidation.”
“Intimidation?”
“I could show you,” Hammer Strike offered.
“Will it have any negative effects?”
“You’ll definitely want to be sitting.”
Twilight did so nervously.
Hammer Strike didn’t move. There was no grand display of power or anything, just a sudden overwhelming amount of pressure suddenly appearing over the mare as she looked at him. She was unable to move or speak. Even magic felt out of her reach. It lasted only a few seconds, but they seemed to stretch on forever before, suddenly, it stopped.
Hammer Strike waited a few seconds before raising a brow questioningly, awaiting some response.
“And … how often are you going to have to channel that power like this?” she finally managed to croak.
“Hopefully, not much. Thankfully, I did learn how to direct that, since the last time I accidentally damaged a few of our more sensitive pieces of magical equipment.”
“Well, if nothing else, I suppose it will give the nobles in the Solar Court that much more reason not to try moving against you. That, or it will galvanize them and make them want to stop you all the more.” She chuckled nervously.
“We shall see.” He chuckled in return. “Now, about those books you wanted to look at?”
Twilight smirked. “Are you sure you want to get into that discussion with me?”
“Let’s see if you can keep up.”
“All right, then. Let’s start with….” And so began a very long studying session between the High King of all Unity and the Princess of Friendship.
Hammer Strike sighed to himself as he entered the inner circle’s meeting room before sitting at the head of the table. “Well, at least they took that better than expected.”
“They trust you, and they trust your children to take after you,” Binding noted as he strode into the room followed by Ainz. “They will do well, provided they keep to the path you’ve set.”
Hammer Strike nodded. “So, now there are a few things to be discussed between us.” He sighed and rested his forelegs on the table. “Ainz, I think we’ll have to seal the tomb away for the time being.”
“Oh, no. We’ll starve,” Ainz said in a deadpan tone.
“Yes.” Hammer Strike rolled his eyes. “I mean in the sense that you will be entirely locked away from this side of the world, and potentially under a temporal lock.”
“And what of Tarefson?” Binding asked.
“I’ll have to tighten his leash. The tomb couldn’t support him for too long.” Hammer Strike sighed.
“Unfortunately, blood is beyond my power without a living being,” Ainz agreed.
“Are you thinking of siccing him on outlaws and assassins, then?” Binding asked.
“Quite likely, but it’ll take me some time to properly word this leash.” Hammer Strike frowned. “But it will be done. As for you, Binding, I’m honestly not sure what will happen. Celestia and Luna are gathering their own inner circle, so you may be left to your own until my return…”
“To be perfectly frank, Hammer Strike, that’s a risk I’m not willing to take. My divine seed may allow me to live forever with my companions, but that doesn’t mean we can’t be killed. I would rather we leave with you, assuming time will allow it.”
“Dislike the idea of potentially sitting around for a couple thousand years?” Hammer Strike raised a brow before giving a small smirk. “I’ll discuss it with The Doctor, but he won’t be able to refuse.”
“Good. I must admit I’m rather intrigued by the prospect of seeing this science in action.”
“Just try not to prod around. From what I heard, Twilight attempted it, and she found herself in … less than great states. The TARDIS is a living thing, though it may be hard to tell.”
“Sapient?”
“Sentient. She’s quite interesting to have conversations with, though you wouldn’t be able to understand her.”
Binding smiled. “Interesting.”
“I suppose that settles things. Any questions from either of you?”
“When will I know you return?” Ainz asked.
“With the temporal lock. You’ll know when I release it.”
“And I assume you will be the only one capable of breaking it?” Binding asked.
“Well, I can tie it to one of my weapons,” Hammer Strike remarked as he pulled Astral Abyss out. “Trust me, nobody can wield these apart from the gods.”
“Very well. And what shall I keep for you?” Ainz asked.
“Most of my artifacts.” Hammer Strike sighed. “As well as some of my more rare materials.”
“Will I be allowed to carry on my research?”
“Anything within the confines of the tomb, yes.”
“Very well. I’ll be fine.” Ainz nodded.
“Binding?”
“I’ll let Towering Wall and Swift Wings know of our impending departure. Do you have a particular date in mind?”
“Given most of my list is nearly completed, within the week.”
Binding nodded. “Then we’ll be ready.”
“Then that settles everything. I shall leave you both to your preparations.”
“So, … King Hammer Strike?” Grif looked to his old friend and chuckled. They were alone in one of the castle's many unused rooms.
Hammer Strike gave a smirk in return. “Don’t you start that, or I will cancel your contract, just to spite you.”
“Could have been worse. Equestria’s technically an empire,” Grif pointed out.
“Don’t remind me.” Hammer Strike sighed. “It’s bad enough I lost my cabin and got this castle.”
“Well I mean, it’s not like it’s your first castle.” Grif shrugged. “What're your plans when we get back?”
“Honestly? Figure out where everyone and everything went.”
“Yeah, I imagine a lich would be helpful with the way things are going.” Grif nodded.
“I also wonder where Yharon went.” Hammer Strike hummed to himself as he stroked his chin.
“Probably the last place you’d think.” Grif shrugged. “I mean, didn’t one of the reports say something about unusual patterns under Unity?”
“That’s where they found the medical cube.” Hammer Strike nodded. “Speaking of which, I’ll have to ensure I lock it down before I leave.”
“So, been thinking about a lot while we were in the TARDIS,” Grif began. “I think I’ve come to a personal decision.”
“You’re done advancing through Thaumaturgy,” Hammer Strike concluded.
Grif nodded. “I still plan to keep myself where I am, but I don’t think I want to go farther,” Grif admitted. “I worry sometimes I've already gone too far.”
“You haven’t, thankfully.” Hammer Strike glanced over to his friend. “Trust me, you would know if you had gone too far. Besides myself, only one other individual knows what it feels like, and it was only temporary for her.”
“Maybe, but there is more to it than just that,” Grif noted. “I mean, you kill someone. Then they get sent to be judged and all that. But the power to destroy a soul? I worry about having that kind of power, myself.”
“A shame that it is one of the most basic lessons of thaumaturgy.” Hammer Strike sighed. “This power is dangerous. At any level, sadly.”
“And I think I have enough.” Grif nodded. “No hard feelings?”
“I’m glad you found your point to stop.” Hammer Strike gave a soft smile. “Honestly, after everything I’ve seen and been through, I was going to cut you off, anyway.”
Grif chuckled. “Great minds think alike, right?”
“That, or the prediction module’s starting to work too well.”
Grif smirked. “Yeah, you’ll have to figure out how to remove it eventually. You’re cheating enough without that.”
“What, can’t handle the idea that I’ll be able to outthink your movement speed?” Hammer Strike chuckled.
“You really need a prediction module for that?”
“Lets me relax more.”
“Glad to see you’re holding up. Not gonna say okay, because we both know you're not okay.”
“As I once mentioned to Faust; if it weren’t for the systematic slaughter of the Alicorn Empire, I don’t think I would have been half as all right.” He shook his head. “That, and the nearly two thousand years of the equivalent of counseling from an embodiment.”
“Embodiment.” Grif raised an eyebrow. “If it weren’t for the state Equestria is in in the future, you probably would consider not going back.” It wasn’t so much a question as an observation.
“To put it simply, probably.” Hammer Strike sighed. “Grif, though I don’t look it, I’m ancient. I’ve lived so many lifetimes watching the world go by as I try to make everything better for everyone. I’ve got one last task ahead of me. And after this, I can’t do these trips through time anymore. It just … hurts too much.”
“Hurts seeing things happen you know have to happen when you know you can change it?”
“More than that, but, yes.” The lights in Hammer Strike’s eyes dimmed. “Some of the experiences I’ve had in this time period … they certainly weren’t great. Though I did get to feel the creation of Vigilance and Vengeance.”
Grif balked. “You felt it? It was that powerful?”
“Old rites.” Hammer Strike nodded. “The opposite of that, however, was that I felt the Winds being sealed away. I may not be a Gryphon, but that was … unpleasant.”
“Gods being torn away.” Grif shivered. “Not right.”
“Not at all.” Hammer Strike hummed. “Thankfully, they are, and will be, the only ones. And you’ll see to righting that. Beyond that, the others are interesting. Faust was kind, as I figured. Slephnir blesses a lot of warriors. And a Gryphon priest who loves knives too much. And Bonnie … will need assistance later. Bahamut was interesting, since he made a deal with me twice.”
“You’ve certainly made interesting friends,” Grif noted. “And Bonnie would be...?”
“You remember how there were three statues in the Empire? One for Slephnir, and you believed two of them to be of Faust? Not correct. One was Bonnie, whose placement would be kind of the moon, or something.” He shrugged.
“That kind of makes sense, actually, since they always refer to Faust as Sleipnir's daughter.” Grif nodded. “I was beginning to worry about that.”
‘“Oh, I also—” Hammer Strike suddenly snapped his mouth shut. “Nope, can’t mention that one.”
“Well, moving on, I think I know what Sombra’s next move is,” Grif said. “And if I’m right, it’s going to be bad.”
“I’d believe it.” Hammer Strike sighed.
“All that time you spent wiping out vampires and undead that you didn’t control? I think he’s going to attempt to bring it all back.”
“I’m going to need to start applying the mark on weapons once again.” Hammer Strike groaned at the thought of how much time he’d have to dedicate to the task.
“Would that be the mark that's noticeably changed from your usual insignia that you’ve been using a lot?” Grif asked.
“Yeah, turns out it’s a holy symbol. Basically blesses weapons and armor and all that.”
“I’d ask how you found that out, but if you’ve talked to that many gods, I can guess. Still, better than working with silver, from what I hear.”
“Shush. Not another word.” Hammer Strike nearly shuddered. “I may work with Silver for accents and small bits, but I will never forget making that damned pure silver blade. Especially not while these damned augments ensure I can’t forget it.”
“So, you can have the lich hide away for a while, and your pet demon can simply hide away back in Hell until we get back. What are you going to do about the vampire?” Girf asked.
“He’s probably going to have to hang out with Ainz, but I doubt Ainz can supply him enough to survive. So … I might have to lay out some ground rules and tighten the contract a little.”
“You ready to do this all again?” Grif chuckled.
“That’s the plan.” Hammer Strike sighed.
“Hey, at least this time you're not starting completely from scratch.”
Hammer Strike gave Grif a flat stare. “Think on the state of things, and try to say that again.”
“They did dig the unwanted basement for you,” Grif pointed out.
“Keep that up and I’ll enact the fact you’re under blood oath to me. If I take back kingship…” Hammer Strike left the statement hanging.
“It’s good to see you're still sharp as ever.” Grif smiled. “Gods know I couldn’t hold things together.”
“Eh, you’re doing fine enough as is. Push came to shove, I can throw some augment processing power toward your end of things.”
“Ever hit you that you're a cyborg magical Pony who summons fire?” Grif asked.
“Really?” Hammer Strike questioned sarcastically. “I never noticed.”
Grif’s smile widened. “Good to have you back.”
Hammer Strike chuckled. “Sure took your time about it.”
Twilight stared at the masks that lined the shelves of the vendor stall. An Abyssian with fiery fur beamed at the potential customers as he wrung his hands and bobbed almost obsequiously. The light reflecting off his coat made it flash between orange and red. He kept his eyes squinted as he showed off his wares, though hints of red occasionally would flash when the light caught his face just right.
“I take great pride in my masks. I travel far and wide to collect them. For example, I have here an Oni mask from the far east lands of Neighpon. Only the finest materials used to embody the powerful fighting spirit of this legendary creature.”
“You don’t happen to have a spikey, strangely-colored mask from times untold about with a malevolent spirit and untold dark magic, do you?” Grif asked cautiously.
Hammer Strike glanced to the trader flatly.
“No, but such a mask does sound like a unique acquisition…” the salesman mused. “Could either of you fine gentlemen tell me where you saw it last?”
“You don’t have enough money,” Grif responded.
“Ah, but what of information?” The cat’s eyes glinted with cunning as his smile broadened. “Knowledge is power, after all. Is that not so, my fine Gryphon friend?”
“And power and knowledge, I have.” Grif wing-shrugged. “To barter, you need an advantage.”
“It would be best for us to depart for now,” Hammer Strike commented before turning to the salesman. “I shall be by later.”
“Of course, Your Majesty. It’s always a pleasure doing business with you.” The salesman beamed. “Before you go, a gift for the lady.” He passed a mask with beautiful blue feathers with hints of white and a long beak. “The legendary cryophoenix is said to be a beautiful sight to behold, though it is rarely seen for its potential at first. Give it the right circumstances, however, and it will surprise you. I would not be surprised to see such surprises in your future.”
“Um, … thanks?” Twilight cocked her head in confusion, but accepted the gift.
“Until next time, m’lady.” The Abyssnian bowed low, and one could just make out the massive travelling pack leaning against his stall entrance.
After they were some distance away Hammer Strike sighed. “Thankfully, the truly dangerous masks are, shall we say, dealt with.”
“Good,” Grif said. “I supposed I should have expected that.”
“Just how many dangerous magical artifacts have you collected?” Twilight asked.
Hammer Strike hummed for a second. “How many shops are there in Unity again?”
“Old or new?” Grif asked.
“Current.”
Grif gave Hammer Strike a blank stare.
“Roughly one thousand three hundred and forty-eight artifacts,” Hammer Strike finally answered.
“That’s … a lot of magic,” Twilight finally responded.
“And at least thirty five percent of them will explode upon being used.”
“Plague, corruption, or something else?”
“Yes. To all of those,” Hammer Strike remarked. “Anyway, how about a trip to a local bakery? They’ve got recipes that have been in their family for generations.”
“Better than the Cakes’?” Twilight asked disbelievingly.
“Well, you’ll have to judge that part. I haven’t had anything of theirs for awhile.”
“Hard to believe Equestria was once this accepting,” Grif said. Looking around, he eyed a Hippogriff. “This is everything we’ve been working for in New Unity.”
“Took some time, but it’s been interesting to see.” Hammer Strike nodded. “It’ll take a long time before something like this will happen again. Though, I hope to speed it along to within everyone’s lifetime.”
“I hope to see it,” Grif said. “Winds know if I could get my people even to this level again.”
“To think, those that initially came here were here due to being outcasts.”
“Most Gryphons anyone interacts with are outcasts,” Grif noted. “We don’t have enough respect for ourselves to try and elevate those in need.”
“That’s a sad statement,” Twilight said. “Won’t Daedalus and the others in power try to change that?”
“You think Daedalus is the first benevolent emperor we’ve had? Change doesn’t happen easily. Sometimes, you have to drag the world kicking and screaming.” Grif shrugged. “You're going to be a leader, so remember that lesson. Drag the world, if you need to. Don’t be afraid to smack it around to soften it up.”
“But what if I don’t want to?”
“Then get used to being walked over,” Hammer Strike remarked.
Twilight was … surprisingly silent as they travelled through the rest of the city until they reached the bakery.
“Hey, Sourdough, anything they want is on me,” Hammer Strike remarked as they entered.
The pale stallion nodded as he puffed his lips and his horn ignited. Letters bubbled with his magic. What can I get for you?
“What’s the best seller?” Twilight asked.
Pineapple upside-down cake.
“I’ll try that one, then.”
Sourdough smiled and nodded, then turned his attention to Grif. And you, Sir?
“Whatever the baker suggests,” Grif said. “Generally, people don’t know as well as the baker.”
The baker smiled and produced a maple candied bacon donut for the Gryphon and the mini cake for Twilight. He levitated the plates to the customers and smiled. Then he turned his attention to Hammer Strike. Will you be having your usual?
Hammer Strike shook his head. “Got anything new on the menu?”
The Unicorn rubbed his chin in thought, then levitated a long piece of circular dough that had been carefully fried and dusted liberally with cinnamon and sugar. A small container of whipped cream was included with the order for dipping. Not sure what to call it yet.
Hammer Strike gave a small grin and nodded before reaching into his coat and pulling out several gold tablets, then placed them on the counter. “Keep whatever’s spare.”
The Unicorn nodded. I’ll add it to your credit balance. Enjoy your meal! If you need anything else, just call me over.
“Will do.” Hammer Strike sighed contently. “I don’t get to come here often.”
“How come?” Twilight asked as they found a table. “Too many responsibilities?”
“That, on top of other things.” He nodded.
“Like…?”
“I have a wait staff who aim to impress.”
“And you don’t want to disappoint them?” she guessed as she levitated the cake and took a bite.
“Exactly.”
“I imagine it also is hard to get snacks that aren't poison flavored from time to time?” Grif smirked.
“They can detect poisons and such with utmost perfection, so that’s not a thing anymore.”
“Aren’t you immune to most poisons, anyway?” Twilight asked.
“Yes. Which is another reason they stopped.”
“Did you ever give them a taste of their own medicine?”
“Those who tried to poison me? Yes, but I started killing too many individuals in power in other countries.”
“Not worried they’ll try something when you're gone?” Grif asked as he took a bite of his donut. The bacon snapped and crunched just right with the candied coating as the salt for the bacon mingled with the maple.
“I’ve kept the poison detection in play, so it’s nearly impossible to get anything through. And when something does, we have most antidotes for them as well beyond detection.”
“Have you had any other contact with Changelings since that incident at the gate?” Twilight asked curiously.
“Yes and no. None of their hive, since their hunters were unable to enter. Beyond that, I have had contact with one. I’ll refrain from saying much else.”
Twilight nodded. “I thought you might. You know, it’s funny, seeing Luna and Celestia like this. I mean, they’re my friends, one of them was my teacher, and yet neither of them really knows me here. I see the mares they’ll become, but I also see something … different, I guess. Is this what it’s always like when you time travel?”
“On the lighter side of things, yes.” Hammer Strike nodded. “There’s more, and some of it isn’t grand, but that is one part of it.”
Time passed, and true to Hammer Strike’s warning on the friends’ arrival, Grif devoured almost everything he could get his talons on. Within reason, but he still cleared a lot of the baker’s stock. The baker stared with wide eyes at the sheer amount the warrior had consumed, then hastily began to mix up new batches of product for the day.
“So, what’s next on the tour, Hammer Strike?” Twilight asked.
“Plenty to see in the market,” Hammer Strike offered.
“More than we already have?”
Hammer Strike chuckled. “Trust me, you’ve only seen a quarter of it at best.”
“Then I suppose we should get back to it. There’s plenty more for me to learn before we go back.” Twilight looked to Grif, then back to Hammer Strike. “That is, assuming you’re both ready.”
Hammer Strike sighed to himself as he looked towards the device he had been using to prolong his life. He frowned, looking it over one last time before pulling his sleeve back to reveal the familiar transmutative amulet.
“Thankfully, Hell established this would be fine…” he muttered to himself as he turned the gem. As before, a flash of light burst forth and he found himself standing on two legs, notably having to crouch slightly to avoid bumping the roof above.
The outside terminal had several prompts over it as he established a lock on the device before pressing his hand against the scanner. After a few moments, he heard several clicks and a few louder clangs come from the machine as it powered down and settled itself into emergency mode.
“You’ll potentially be useful in the future, so you’ll just have to wait.” He gave a small grin before turning the gem once more, reverting to his equine form.
Rolling his shoulders, he tested the lock by pressing his hoof into the scanner, only for it to give a brief flash of red, signifying that his hoof print wouldn’t open it. He of course had verbal backups, just in case, and beyond that, physical strength to crack it open.
Then he sighed. “It’s time.”
Several days later and the group was waiting in front of the TARDIS as The Doctor worked the controls. The group waited as Hammer Strike took in the view of Old Unity one last time. “You gonna miss it?” Grif asked.
“Yeah.” Hammer Strike gave a small smile. “But, we’ll make it better.”
Grif nodded. “Take your time,” he commented before turning and entering the ship.
Hammer Strike gave a soft sigh at the sight that greeted him on the walls. Celestia, Luna, Yharon, and the remainder of the council that hadn’t been sealed away watched on and waved. He was grateful not to see the tears he doubtless knew were waiting behind those eyes. He allowed himself one final wave, a last salute to the city that he had put so many lifetimes into building. When he returned to it again, it would be but a shadow of its former self. Growing, but far from the thriving metropolis he had come to love. Finally, he forced himself to turn away and stepped into the TARDIS. The doors creaked shut behind him, and the lock turned of its own accord. “TARDIS,” he said tiredly, “no detours, please.”
“Is everybody settled, then?” The Doctor asked as he looked around the room. Binding was examining the walls and the many round indents that dotted the structure. Wall and Swift both had decided to search through other parts of the vessel’s control room for the sake of understanding the layout. The others simply looked to Hammer Strike while Derpy hummed and smiled next to her mate.
“Looks that way, Doctor,” Vital Spark said. “I think we’re ready to go home.”
As The Doctor prepared to send them off, Hammer Strike flipped a lever before nodding to himself. “It’s time to go.”
“All right! And we’re off!” The Doctor grinned as the TARDIS’ console came to life and began to pump as it always did. However, unlike past times, the familiar creaking groan that accompanied the ship’s materialization and dematerialization had completely disappeared. The Doctor frowned. “Well, that’s odd….”
“You’re not about to tell us something’s broken, are you?” Vital Spark asked.
“The sounds are different….” Pensword paused looking at Hammer Strike. “Did you take the brake off?”
“Yep,” Hammer Strike confirmed. “Was giving her a break.”
“That is good to know, and thank you, m’lady.” He patted the railing he was near. “I checked with The Doctor on my supplies.” He looked at Twilight. “As well as our resident Princess. I’d rather not cause any paradoxes or problems. After all, we have the TARDIS that can tell us if the item is good or bad to bring back.” He chuckled. “I’d rather have the lady that can see in five dimensions make the final call on that.”
“Careful, Pensword. You don’t want to insult her. I’m sure she can see a lot more than that.” Vital chuckled.
The Doctor looked like he was about to have an aneurysm. His eye twitched as he grit his teeth and whipped his gaze between Hammer Strike and the console.
“It’ll be back on after we return.” Hammer Strike sighed. “Unless she’s willing to just make the noise rather than deal with a stuck brake.”
The TARDIS beeped several times, followed by a recording that emanated from her speakers to sound very much like the parking brake.
“Still not the same,” the Timelord sulked.
Derpy smiled and patted him on the back. “There there.”
“Uh, guys, I think we landed.” Vital Spark pointed to the console. “That, or the TARDIS is broken again.”
“She’s fine. Only thing broken is the chameleon circuit,” Hammer Strike replied as he moved toward the doors. “We have landed.”
The doors flung open to reveal Celestia and Luna both staring in surprise. Their mouths dropped open at the sight of a Pony they had not seen, truly seen, in millennia. Celestia gasped as her eyes began to water. Luna was not nearly so subtle. She barrelled into the Pony and wrapped her hooves around his neck with all the force she could muster.
Hammer Strike couldn’t help but let out a hearty laugh as he returned the embrace. “Why, you act as though you haven’t seen me in millennia. I’m sure ‘I’ just departed from Canterlot within the last … two weeks?”
“Shut up,” Luna said, actually crying as she hugged him. “You know how long it’s been for us.”
Hammer Strike’s grin softened as he looked to Celestia, releasing one hoof to invite her into the hug. “Indeed. I’ll refrain from jokes for now.”
Celestia approached more sedately. “Just don’t promise to drop the sarcasm. Do that, and we’ll think you’re a Changeling.” She smiled softly as she joined the embrace and wrapped her wings around him.
“Please, they wish they could replicate me.”
“Now that’s just adorable,” Vital Spark said.
“They certainly don’t seem to have changed that much,” Binding said with a hint of a smirk.
“They’re his daughters, Binding. Of course they’re not going to change how they greet him,” Wall said. “Even I know that.”
Pensword stood there and watched their actions. “It still feels odd seeing them act this way.”
“Come now.” Hammer Strike smiled. “Let’s allow The Doctor his leave. Oh, and before we depart.” He pointed toward the console. “Third lever on the left, the one next to the blue one. That’s the parking brake.”
“Can I flip it?” Pensword asked with a chirp, waving a wing.
“No.” The Doctor stared flatly at the Thestral. But you can get out so Derpy and I can get back to our outing. It’s going to be tight enough as it is catching the last Silverite Fall of Argost Three now. Shoo! Shoo!” He waved with his hooves.
The passengers quickly disembarked. Pensword hauled his trove while Twilight carried hers in her magic. Hammer Strike had already placed his books into a pocket space with his thaumaturgy, so he could unload them at a later date. The sun was still shining. The birds sang. All seemed to be perfectly at peace in the world as The Doctor took one last look on the deck, then flung the doors shut. The TARDIS whirred as it always did, and the great ship was gone again on its next great adventure.
“Home again, home again, jiggity jig,” Vital Spark quipped as he sighed happily.
“I feel like I know that from somewhere,” Pensword said.
“Hate to break up the reunion but can you do it in the pressurized area?” Grif asked. “I need to get to Unity ASAP.”
Hammer Strike smiled to Celestia and Luna. “I’ll return to Canterlot shortly. I have many things to check on. So, unless you want to come with, we must depart for a brief time.”
“Sadly, we have duties here, too. Or at least I do. If Luna wishes to return with you, I can't very well stop her.” Celestia chuckled ruefully. “The burdens of the crown.”
“I’ll return with you, sister,” Luna said as she released her father. “But you will return to us, right?” she asked the Earth Pony.
“Of course.” He smiled. “I mean, I have plenty of questions to ask. One of which being where your brother went.”
Celestia took a moment to blink in surprise. She met her sister’s gaze briefly as they shared a glance, then looked back to Hammer Strike. “Our … brother?”
Extended Holiday Chapter 177: Do you think Equis is Ready for a Railgun?
“Yeah.” Hammer Strike stared blankly at Celestia and Luna. “Your brother, Yharon?”
Celestia shook her head. “Father, it was just us and Starlight Bulwark. We don’t remember anyone else.”
Hammer Strike frowned. “Then something is wrong.” He turned back to the deck’s entrance to the interior, where Binding stood on standby. “Binding, you remember Yharon, correct?”
“Irrefutably,” Binding agreed as he observed the two much more closely.
Hammer Strike’s frown deepened before he turned to Celestia and Luna. “We’ll discuss this later to figure out what’s going on. We need to depart for now.”
Binding tapped his glasses and stared intently at the mares for a moment, then nodded. “Best listen to your father for now, girls. Once we’re settled in, we’ll call you for a proper examination.”
Luna sighed. “I am still confused about all this.”
“We’ll figure it all out later. Go on now.” Hammer Strike gave a soft smile.
Meanwhile, the Gantrithor hummed to life as the ship began to slowly re-orient itself toward Unity.
“Go on, we’ll discuss things later,” Hammer Strike urged again as he turned toward the ship’s main entrance. The two sisters looked nervously between one another, then flew back toward the castle below. The rest of the party followed Grif to the bridge.
“So, before we left to get you, I received a message from my network,” Grif explained as he worked on getting the ship in place. “Lochton, a reasonably sizable settlement on the east coast, went dark a few days ago. The report was from the scout who went there. The entire town’s been shrouded in a type of bubble of dark mist.”
Hammer Strike frowned. “If it isn’t one thing, it’s another. I assume you’ll be fine to handle it with whoever else you bring?”
“It stinks of Sombra,” Grif said. “And he’s mine.” He growled. “But we need containment as well, militia to cover the entrances and exits and keep curious people out. And at least two kinds of magic users to keep whatever's inside inside.”
“You’ll have it from New Unity. Of that, I’m sure. As for containment….” Hammer Strike reached into his coat and pulled out a familiar tube. “My null fields should assist, though it’s unlikely to be perfect. Take one.”
“Time for Avalon to test out her trainees, too,” Grif said as he reached for the proffered device.
“Also, have everyone who comes with tie themselves to the device. It’s the only alternative to a contract,” he explained.
“Can you stick around the outside?” Grif asked. “This stinks of lovecraftian monsters.”
“If it did, I don’t think my presence would be for the best. They’re attracted to me.” Hammer Strike raised a brow. “But, if you think you’ll need my presence, then I can do so.”
“Pensword?” Grif called.
“We take him down, and take him down hard,” Pensword growled. “I’ll make sure to use what troops I command to quarantine the zone. Nothing out, and only you and your team in, Grif.”
“It will be a small team,” Grif said. “It’s time for Day Moon to see what the business is all about.”
Pensword whipped his head back at Grif and glared. “You’d better bring him back alive, Grif. My last few hunts before the mad bear was with my mother or uncle. And while I did the larger shake, they were there in case something worse showed up. Don’t you dare toss him into the wild like some Gryphon parent does. Understood?”
“Hammer Strike, I’m driving. Smack him for me?” Grif growled.
“I’d kill most of you with that,” Hammer Strike replied.
“Then just glare at him or something. I understand you care about him, Pensword, but that was out of line.”
Pensword turned and walked up to a wall, then began to bang his head against it, cursing under his breath as he finally realized the full extent of what he’d said and implied of his friend in the heat of the moment.
Grif pulled the Gantrithor into its dock, then left it hovering. There wasn’t much time. He raced for the door at a surprisingly normal speed. “Vital, get Zecora. If it comes down to it, I want the spirits pushing back against this thing. Thirty minutes. Be here or walk.” Grif left the room and took to the air, heading for the compound.
Pensword nodded his head and took flight to the Thestral Compound. It would be Grif’s responsibility to inform Day Moon. He’d also have to get Moon River distracted or she might try to follow.
“Be back in a flash,” Vital said. “Literally.” Bright light flashed briefly as Vital Spark’s teleportation went off.
Binding frowned. “I thought I taught them how to turn that off,” he murmured as he blinked. Fortunately, his glasses had taken the brunt of the flash.
“It’s been countless years with records lost. That’s just a byproduct of it,” Hammer Strike replied. “How long do you suspect until Clover appears before us?”
“I may be a strategist, Hammer Strike, but that depends entirely on whether or not she knows you’re back and you again.”
“Our tether,” Hammer Strike replied. “She just had an influx of power, and given she didn’t appear immediately, I have a feeling she was in the middle of an experiment or task, resulting in cleanup.”
Clover appeared seconds later and barreled into the stallion, kissing him deeply. After the embrace, Hammer Strike blinked a few times.
“Didn’t see that coming.”
“You made me wait that long. You’re lucky I don’t slap you,” she said.
“I suppose I can at least blame that toward the Alicorns,” Hammer Strike replied. “Was the influx of power a surprise?”
“Yes,” she said. “You’re a lot stronger than I remember.”
“Well, I suppose it was different from how I am now.”
Rarity smiled at the two, and her eyes sparkled at the sight of the touching reunion. “I’m so glad you two can finally be together again.”
“This certainly makes things interesting in terms of figuring this all out,” Hammer Strike remarked before sighing. “But, we have work to do first. I’m afraid I must ask the two of you to depart for now.” He directed to Rarity and Twilight. “Given the dire situation Grif has noted, I won’t allow any risks to befall either of you. Clover, even if I didn’t want you to go, if you wanted to, you would.”
“I probably should be present,” Clover agreed.
“Is this going to be anything like when you first moved into Unity?” Twilight asked.
“That isn’t a possibility any longer.” Hammer Strike shook his head. “Trust me, there have been attempts beyond that.”
“I mean is the threat level the same?”
“I have no idea.”
Twilight sighed. “Then I suppose I should trust your judgement. You promise to keep in contact with us?”
“I shall.” Hammer Strike chuckled. “While I have the time, there is one thing I need to check on. After all, she would be of use, given the implications.”
“She who?”
“Harmony.” He smirked as he opened a rift to his side. “While the tether exists, it appears she hasn’t noticed me yet. I shall return shortly.”
“As in the tree of harmony?”
“Correct. She’s an embodiment in the physical realm. Her gifts to assist everyone must be taking a toll on her energy reserves, so I shall replenish what I can.” Hammer Strike nodded before turning toward the rift. “One moment.”
Hammer Strike stepped through the rift and appeared before Harmony. The tree was almost as it had been when he left it. She had experienced a few changes, however. The core of her form created a massive star while five other knot-like protrusions along her larger branches held notches shaped like each of the elements’ stones, and each of the elements sat snugly there, pulsing gently with her.
“It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” He gave a soft smile as he walked over to her. While there wasn’t too much of a response, he raised his hoof and placed it against one of the roots, forming a manual tether to give her energy. “Come on now. It’s time to get up.”
“Forgive my bluntness, but it took you long enough. And that’s coming from a tree,” Harmony noted. Her voice sounded tired, but carried a hint of playfulness and relief.
“Oh, hush now.” He gave a brief smirk. “You hid yourself from my past self.”
“You would have destroyed me if you had the chance back then. I had little choice.”
“Not that version of me.” Hammer Strike frowned at the statement. “Afterwards. For the half a year before and after that.”
“You had no memory of me from before you helped me to grow. Did you expect me to risk breaking your timeline? Father would have been furious.”
“It wouldn’t have broken it, though it would have made things more clear.” Hammer Strike chuckled briefly. “Take as much of my energy as you need to get yourself feeling fine.”
“My children have helped me a great deal in that regard. But I can’t very well say no to such a precious gift.” The tree pulsed as a small root wrapped around Hammer Strike’s hoof. Energy pulled along the connection into the crystalline confines of the tree. The boughs tinkled, and a deep sigh flowed through the cavern as the familiar projection slowly took shape. Her eyes were closed, as though she were basking in pleasure. And then she stood before him, the same Harmony in all her splendor. “I needed that,” she admitted as the root retracted itself from his hoof and returned to the ground.
“I figured you did.” Hammer Strike chuckled. “I have plenty of questions, and I'm sure you have plenty of answers, but, as per usual, I’ve got work to do. Thankfully, having you alongside us will be something positive.”
“The corrupted one.” She spat violently. “His is the worst kind of order.”
“Then, shall we put an end to him?” Hammer Strike raised a brow as he opened a rift back to the Gantrithor.
“I don’t know what assistance I can grant, but I will do what I can. Until now, I’ve had to rely on my children’s chosen.”
“Your presence will certainly be a boon, I’m sure.” He smiled as he stepped through the rift and appeared on the Gantrithor once more. “Seven minutes. That didn’t take too long, thankfully.”
“How’s the tree?” Twilight asked.
“She’s fine,” Hammer Strike clarified. “She was just tired.”
“Is … that an Earth Pony thing? Because Applejack was the same way when we had to take one of her trees to Appleloosa.”
“No.” Hammer Strike chuckled briefly. “Here. Allow me to amplify the power I’m giving her. That should help her manifest to you both.” He focused on the tether between him and Harmony and channeled his will and energy through it.
Those present in the room stared as the air wavered briefly beside Hammer Strike. Then light and color gradually came into being as a corona of pink was swathed by two strong rainbow wings. The mare’s horn spiraled and sparkled with crystalline beauty reminiscent of the Crystal Ponies, yet this went beyond the coating that Ponies experienced when they channeled power into the crystal heart. This was true crystal throughout, a beautiful matrix of silicates and minerals all carefully bound together to produce the effects that the Ponies on the ship now beheld.
“Hello, Twilight Sparkle. I did not expect to speak with you so soon.” She bowed her head briefly to the princess, then turned to Clover. “And my fellow guardian. Thank you for watching over him in my absence. As Hammer Strike is to you, so, too, he is to me. Precious, kind, generous, and so much more that cannot be said.” She lowered her head again in deference to the mare who once was queen.
Clover returned it. “And thank you for guarding Equestria while I could not.”
Twilight gaped at the projection with her mouth ajar and her wings flung wide.
“You need not act so with me, Twilight Sparkle. I know you well, and you know me. You and your friends are what binds this realm together. Were it not for your births and your ultimate union on that fateful night, this world would be in dire straits, indeed. My children chose you well.”
“Your … children?”
“I am a tree in my physical form. And trees have been known to bear fruit. My fruits are pieces that help to embody what I am, what you might call aspects of an embodiment. Therefore, I call them my children.”
“The Elements of Harmony. Amusing how the name came to be.” Hammer Strike chuckled.
“You should know. You told them where to go.” Harmony stuck out her ethereal tongue.
“Yes, but I didn’t tell them to ‘take the elements.’” He smirked. “I just told them where you were.”
“Then perhaps my children called themselves by that name. It wouldn’t surprise me in the least. Elements comprise the whole of many things. Why not make elements the bodies of an aspect?”
“Perhaps.” Hammer Strike shrugged. “In any case, it shouldn’t be long before everyone else arrives back on board. Though I am curious as to where Binding and the others took off to.”
“I believe they were drawn by a contract of a different nature.”
“So they’re exploring,” Hammer Strike clarified.
“No, seeking. There is one who resides here whose magical contract is very powerful. He wishes to gain understanding of that contract and its effects to add to his knowledge. I believe he will find what he seeks in the heart of this ship.”
“He’s searching for ‘her,’ then.” Hammer Strike sighed, then raised his voice. “It’s been a while, but are you active in this part of the ship, Circlet?”
“I am present in all parts of the ship at all times. You know that,” Circlet’s voice filtered through the speakers.
He chuckled faintly. “It’s been two thousand years for me. Give me a break.”
“If I gave you a break, you’d complain about it and find harder work to do,” Circlet stated.
“Oh, shush now.” He rolled his eyes. “There are three individuals searching within the Gantrithor. Binding Strategy, Towering Wall, and Swift Wings. They’re safe when it comes to letting them explore all around, but please keep them from getting too lost.”
“I’ll keep a trail of lights to lead them,” Circlet promised. “And I’m … sorry,” she noted quietly.
“Not now.” Hammer Strike sighed. “But we have something to discuss when the time comes. Also, to clarify something, there are a series of Crystal Empire matrices within this ship, aren’t there?”
“While the Gryphons built the ship proper, the designs and basic mainframe were made in the empire,” she confirmed.
“Then that makes some things interesting…” Hammer Strike hummed.
“Should I keep the cannon on standby?”
“Please do. But if need be, I can do it myself.”
“My curiosity is piqued, though I have noticed someone has accessed the matrix with an access level that can only be considered ludicrous.”
“That would be me.” Hammer Strike gave a small smirk. “If need be, I can take control of most of the weapons on the ship, beside manual weaponry of course, at a moment's notice.”
“We’re going to have to discuss how you accessed the CPN later,” she noted. “Now seems like a bad time for details.”
“We will discuss things when we arrive.” Hammer Strike sighed. “To put it simply for the time being, I am the highest priority to exist in the CPN.”
Circlet didn’t reply. Clearly, Hammer Strike had left her more than a little stunned with that statement.
Pensword flew to the lodge as quickly as his wings would carry him. He wasted no time and hastily rang the bell to summon the settlement. The Thestrals were quick to rise and gather.
“Warriors of the Thestrals,” Pensword began, “I call you in the middle of the day for an urgent matter.”
Eclipse Darkbane shouldered his way through the populace to reach the front and better hear the commander’s announcement.
“Clan Leader Grif has knowledge that the shade Sombra, tyrant of the Crystal Empire and defiler of the pure night, has risen again here in Equestria. Lord Hammer Strike himself is gathering means and arms, and has sent me to rally any volunteers that I can together.
“However, in this instance, we are not to take the role of hunters of the night. That is for the Raven and the Wolf. Instead, Lord Hammer Strike has asked our aid in holding the line. Nothing can enter the defiler’s stronghold, and nothing can be allowed to get out. It is important to note that this is an entirely voluntary mission. No one will force you to come. All the same, I am asking it of you both on your lord’s behalf and for myself. Will anyone join us to prevent the return of the shadows of old and the corruption that trails in their wake?”
Every warrior of age stepped forward, and Eclipse smirked.
“Right. Gather your gear, get your weapons, and meet at the Ganthrathor’s docks within a half hour’s time. Anyone who is even a minute late will be left! I must go to make my own preparations. May moonlight guide and protect us.”
As the crowd began to disperse, Pensword approached his watcher. “A moment, Eclipse Darkbane.”
The stallion turned to face his charge. “Yes?”
Pensword bowed his head briefly. “While I have every confidence in the settlement’s capability and efficiency….” He paused for a time and swallowed heavily as he warred with his pride. But whether it was necessity, humility, or both acting in tandem, he finally broke through the blockage. “Would you do me the honor of leading the mobilization? As the stallion with the most recent military experience and as a seasoned warrior, you would be best qualified to get them to the docks on time. The breadth of your service and the height of your rank would command respect from any that might object.”
“You’re asking me?” He chuckled.
“I’m trusting you, should you agree to take the responsibility.”
Eclipse stared silently at Pensword for a time, then finally spoke. “Very well, Pensword. I’ll do as you ask. Luna would never forgive me if I obstructed this.”
Pensword nodded curtly. “Thank you. I’ll see you all at the Gantrithor.” Then he opened his wings and took to the skies. The next stop would be his family quarters and the hurdle of a creature almost as devious as Sombra himself, and a thousand times more likely to throw a tantrum. “I just hope my plan works to keep her there,” he muttered.
Back on the ground, Eclipse Darkbane maintained his stoic gaze until Pensword had gotten out of range. Then he turned and smiled. “Commander Pensword Hurricane,” he said under his breath, “there might just be hope for you yet.”
Grif landed in the compound and entered his home without hesitation. “Avalon, Shrial!” he called out as he went straight for his light armor and began dressing. The tone of voice was swift enough to summon the two while Gilda waddled behind.
“What is it, Grif?” Avalon asked.
“Sombra surfaced at a town on the east coast,” Grif noted as he tightened his breastplate. “The entire town’s shrouded in darkness, and no one’s been able to enter yet. I’m going to attempt to leverage my oath to get through. I need you and the initiates to create a barrier, so nothing gets out, Avalon. And Shrial, I need you leading troops in case it’s not enough,” Grif noted as he went through his equipment, taking the things that would help and discarding what seemed useless. Wolfsbane, garlic, kingsfoil, and other such crushed herbs were applied to various arrowheads. Two small crossbows were attached to loops at his sides.
“We’ll need to call Cheshire, then,” Shrial said.
“How strong a barrier are we talking here, Grif?” Avalon pressed. “And how large?”
“Large enough to cover a large town or a small city, and as strong as you can.” Grif sighed. “I have no idea what his plan is.”
“I would assume the same thing every evil megalomaniac does. Try to take over the world.” Avalon shrugged. “It’s a fairly standard stereotype.”
“He who underestimates his enemy underestimates himself,” Grif noted as he double and triple-checked. “Can you do it?”
“We haven’t been able to cover much in the barrier department yet, but we should be able to make it work. As they say, experience is often the best teacher. Like Shrial said, though, someone needs to get Cheshire. I have to rally the troops, Gilda can hardly move, and Shrial has to prepare for combat and keep the cubs in line.”
“And Grif has to get back to the Gantrithor as quickly as possible after he gets his monster-hunting equipment. Yes, yes. I know. How very … predictable,” Cheshire said from behind the girls. Once again, she appeared seemingly from nowhere with her cub in tow.
“I love you,” Grif said, giving each of his wives a kiss. “I need to find Day Moon,” he noted, then turned for the door.
“Don’t forget the road you choose, Grif,” Cheshire said seriously. “It’s important for more than just you this time.”
“I promise, Chesh. I will do my best. But his destiny is to be in the hunt, and what he will be hunting means he needs to learn firsthand about the danger.”
She smiled and bared her teeth in her famous grin. “Who said I was talking about the colt?” Then she turned toward the onslaught of the twins and grasped each of them before all three dissipated into the air. The giggles carried from the hall beyond in the upper floor. Cú Chulainn sat in front of his godfather and stared with the same serious gaze his father once used. He rose and padded on silent paws, then gave a brief hug before he turned and followed his mother. Whether he faded as she did or simply blended into his surroundings as his father once had, none could say.
Grif gave a brief smile after the cub before returning to his purpose. The hunt was on.
Pensword packed as swiftly as his hooves and wings could move while Lunar Fang and Fox feather helped him don the blessed armor Luna had crafted for him, a gift that had been forwarded to him after his appointment to Luna’s makeshift priesthood. However, the main problem was a small bundle of stubbornness with nerves of steel and wings that gripped like iron.
“Moon River,” Pensword spoke in a commanding tone, “you are to stay here and rally the foals. You are to lead their defenses here.”
“No! I fight,” she insisted vehemently.
“No!” Pensword snapped back. His own wings spread in intimidation alongside his rather poor attempt at a hiss.
Lunar Fang sighed and shook her head in resignation. “Dear, that isn’t going to work.”
“Night Terror, I want you to take her to the forest to hunt rabbits. Let’s see her face off against the Angel’s spawn.”
“No! I go!” Moon River demanded. “I have knife!” She waved the knife Luna and Hammer Strike gifted her recklessly.
If Pensword didn’t hurry, he knew he was going to be left behind.
There was a bright purple flash as Twilight Sparkle appeared in the room. The reason she was able to teleport in was the one who was clutching her back. Before the Pony could even get used to his new surroundings, he was falling over as the scream, “MINE!” rang through the room. Moon River nommed Bellacosa’s ear with happy squeaks.
Lunar Fang looked to Twilight and barely held back a laugh. “Do you know what you did?”
Twilight Sparkle looked around the room. “Prevent a stowaway situation that would pull needed resources from the front lines. Better to deal with a possessive foal not giving up her stallion then risking her getting anywhere near the S.”
“S?” Cosy asked before laughing at Moon River’s attentions. “Hey, that tickles!”
Pensword looked to Cosy. “Something that you don’t need to know about. Just make sure that Moon River is safe and keep her entertained. Enjoy your vacation together. Lunar Fang, Fox Feather, and Night Terror will be here to help with any problems.”
Cosy frowned. “What about you?”
“I must go to root out a rot that has sprung up in our lands. We will return when we clean it up. I’ll tell you what we did later.”
“I’ll hold you to that, Uncle.”
Pensword chuckled and ruffled the colt’s mane. “Good.” Then he kissed his wives, bid the other children farewell, and left the apartment. His Gryphon children were dressed in full armor along with his own body guard units. There wasn’t any need to ask them what they were doing. There were demons to be slain. There was only one thing to ask. “Where is LIghting Dust?”
Their leader answered. “Out on a training exercise with the cadets. You know how she is.”
“Day Moon!” Grif barked. He found the colt near the Thestral homes talking with several others his age. A cloak had been thrown over his back. “You need to get equipped. It’s time to hunt.”
The colt turned in surprise, but nodded quickly and bid his friends farewell. Grif followed him along the path around a corner, at which point the young Thestral flicked his wing open to thrust his cloak aside, revealing his hunting supplies. “You told me a hunter should be near his or her gear at all times.”
“You have Shadowsbane?” Grif asked.
He flicked the cloak on the other side of his barrel to reveal the sword.
Grif handed the colt several vials of holy water. “Dip your bolts in this and remember to keep one crossbow armed at all times. Then go give your brothers and your family a hug,” Grif said. “This is a real danger, Day Moon. These are creatures faster and stronger than you are. Death is a very real possibility. You understand me?”
Day Moon nodded. “I may be a little delayed if Moon River puts up a fuss.”
“We leave in fifteen minutes. Every minute we waste is another life we might save. I know I’m putting a lot on you, but if this is truly the calling you’re going to chase, you're going to need to come to grips with this fast.”
“And you know that if Moon River wants ten minutes to say goodbye, she’ll get it someway or another,” Day Moon answered.
“And that's ten minutes you won’t have to say goodbye to your girl.” Grif gave the colt a wink.
“Actually, Scootaloo is going to be in the bowels of the ship sharpening arrowheads.” He blushed before realizing just what Grif had said.
“Just Scootaloo, right? Because we really can’t afford the entire group right now.”
“Applebloom is busy with the harvest, and AJ is keeping a steely eye on her, because Pinkie says that she had one of her … well, episodes. And Sweetie, she’s actually in the next town with Dinky, picking up supplies and looking for new song books.”
“And Scootaloo will stay on the ship?” Grif clarified.
“I doubt anyone would let her leave without an escort. She wanted to learn about the military and my foster father’s life. Now she’s got it.”
“Very well.” Grif nodded. “I’ll see you onboard. Let's hunt well.” He extended his arm and offered Day Moon his talons.
“And have stories to tell over the fire.” Day Moon offered his hoof back, and Grif clasped it firmly.
The speed with which Vital Spark raced to Zecora’s tree bespoke his urgency as he pushed open the door to stare at his sister. There was no time for rhyming, so he cut straight to the chase in Zwahili. “Zecora, Hammer Strike needs your help, and I’m pretty sure you already know why.”
Zecora nodded. “I am aware. Your friend will have to deal with that which he has sworn to destroy.”
“And Hammer Strike and Grif want us to help on the outside dealing with anything on the spiritual side of things, and to keep whatever we can inside the barrier. Avalon and her acolytes are going to be the first layer of defense. We’re going to be the second layer.”
“Of course, I’ll help in any way that I can. But remember, Vital Spark, I do still have limits. If something of sufficient power is summoned, I won’t be able to counter it, even channeling Gaia’s power. Not unless you wish for me to follow Mustafa to the other side.”
“Zecora!” Vital balked.
“It needed to be said. I will prepare what ingredients I can. Much of what is to come will rely on Grif and his young protege, however. But I know that sometimes magic can go wrong. Foci can wear out. Mana can be depleted. It will be up to us to ensure these problems are remedied.” She snatched a saddlebag from one of the tree’s many natural hooks. “Help me gather the necessary ingredients. As you said, we haven’t much time, and I will need these supplies to help support your evokers.”
Vital Spark nodded, and they proceeded to pack as many herbs and potion ingredients as they could. Lastly, Vital Spark levitated a glass jar filled with familiar blue flowers.
“Vital Spark, what are you doing with that poison joke?” Zecora asked suspiciously.
“Preparing another barrier. You know what it did to Twilight and the others. Without the antidote, many of the creatures exposed to these will be severely handicapped, especially if we word our barbs right.”
“And how is that to help us stop them from escaping?”
“It won’t. But it’ll make it a lot easier to catch them later, if any do.”
Zecora tutted, but ultimately relented.
“Got any portable totems we can take with us?”
“No. We’ll have to craft them ourselves when we reach the city.”
Vital Spark nodded. “All right, then. Do your final checks now, Zecora. I’m teleporting us straight to the ship after this.”
Zecora flung her cloak on her back and seized her staff, then turned to her adopted brother. “I am ready.”
Vital Spark nodded, charged his horn, and the two disappeared in a flash of light.
Blast and tower shield made their way onto the Gantrithor looking for Hammer Strike. A mass mobilization had started, and no one had explained anything to them yet.
Thankfully, they didn’t have to wait long, as Hammer Strike made his way to the deck, having been alerted by Circlet about their arrival. “It’s certainly been some time since I’ve seen you two. Though, at the same time, it hasn’t.”
“Sir,” they said in unison as they turned to salute.
“There’s a mass mobilization happening in Unity. Has something happened? Are we at war?” Blast asked.
“Not quite, but there is soon to be a battle. A town some distance away is currently dealing with Sombra, and whatever he has brought with him,” Hammer Strike explained. “You two will need to continue holding down New Unity while we are away.”
“Sir, if I may ask a further question?” Tower Shield spoke up.
“Yes, you may ask the obvious question.”
“What happened to you?” Tower pressed.
“Two thousand years happened.” Hammer Strike gave a small smile. “The short of it, the Alicorns had been experimenting with time-based magic, which resulted in me getting pulled some thousands of years in the past. Had several surgeries done to myself, against my will mind you, and watched the fall of their empire. Traveled the land, ended up here, started Equestria. I’ll cover more on that later.”
“O-of course, Sir,” Blast Shield said. Both brothers were equally stunned. “Do you have any standing orders at this time?”
“Protect New Unity until my return.” Hammer Strike smirked. “It shouldn’t take us too long to deal with this threat.”
“Should we be on high alert?” Tower asked.
“Not quite high alert just yet, but do keep preparations made.”
“Yes, Sir. We’ll get right on it,” Blast said as they gave a salute.
Hammer Strike gave a brief chuckle as they left. “I suppose I do come off as an anomaly again. Just when they all started to get used to me.”
Sure enough, almost exactly thirty minutes from their arrival in New Unity, Grif was back in the pilot's chair of the Gantrithor, checking the systems to take off.
“Attention, everyone,” he said as he hit the microphone. “This is Grif. We’re going to be taking off as soon as I'm done with this message. Don’t get comfortable. Prepare for immediate deployment as soon as we arrive. Flyers, be ready to ferry non-flyers to the ground the moment we start disembarking. I want a full perimeter set up in ten to fifteen minutes. You waste time, people could die. This isn’t a game. Be ready for anything.” Grif hit the switch, cutting the microphone off. Then the ship began to lift off and orient itself.
“Just how fast are we gunning it this time, Grif?” Vital Spark asked.
“Well, how fast do you think this ship would take to reach the east coast in ten point nine seconds?” Grif asked as he flicked several switches.
“I see we’re going plaid, then,” Vital said urbanely and fastened his seatbelt accordingly. “Buckle up, everyone. It’s going to be a bumpy ride.”
“Everyone who isn’t Hammer Strike locked down?” Grif asked. When he received the affirmative, he pressed the button under his left thumb. Even with the Gantrithor’s dampeners, the ship pulled an intense blast of inertia. By the time most were gathering their senses, Grif had already cut the speed. The east coast of Equestria sat beneath them, reflecting the slowly changing sky.
Grif was already unclipping himself from the seat and rising to his feet. “Hammer Strike, I leave the ship in your hooves. If I don’t come back, you take her.”
“When you come back, there will be a change. I can’t tell you what will be changed, but once everyone has departed and prepared themselves outside the Gantrithor, I will be upgrading a system on it.”
“Unfortunately, this time, I can’t guarantee that,” Grif said. “Call it paranoia, jitters, whatever. I know whatever he’s planning is bad, really bad.”
“Yes, but I won’t let you die so easily,” Hammer Strike remarked. “If you can’t find a way, I’ll figure something out.”
Grif chuckled wryly. “Okay, everybody, you know your places. We need to move. Day Moon, make sure you get some food rations and water. We’re not going to touch anything inside there if we can avoid it.”
Day Moon was already heading down the hallway toward the kitchens. He flicked a wing up to signal he’d understood the Gryphon’s words.
Pensword was looking out the window uneasily. His wing strayed toward a tomahawk engraved with his mother’s cutie mark.
“I told you it was bad,” Grif commented.
“Falls,” Pensword spoke through the lump in his throat. “Feels like the falls.”
“Given what you told me Sombra did before in the empire, I’m not surprised,” Vital said as he patted his friend’s back. “It’ll be all right. Let’s focus on mobilizing the troops. We need to do our part here, too, after all.”
Pensword nodded. “Anything that comes out of that, we’ll kill.” He turned to look at Grif. “The ground wails at the taint and loss of those that tend to her. She wails louder than the Gryphon’s slaughter.” He walked past Grif, whispering the last part. “No allies.”
“The bastard’s mine,” Grif reaffirmed. “Don’t worry about that part.”
Hammer Strike hummed to himself as he looked out to the city. “Now that I think about it, I know someone who will be useful in this regard. I’ll have to summon him.”
“The unassuming guy Rem and Ram always hung out with?” Vital asked.
“All three, yes,” Hammer Strike confirmed.
“With all due respect, Hammer Strike,” Grif said, “I’d rather not have hellish energy and whatever taint Sombra’s got inside there mixing. If it does, things could get worse.”
“That’s the thing. His speciality is combating them and containing them. The three of them would prove useful in containment to ensure nothing escapes.”
“Then wouldn’t it be better to keep them outside where they can protect the barrier?” Grif asked.
“That is what I was referring to. You’ve said how Sombra is your target, so I wouldn’t be sending them inside,” Hammer Strike clarified.
“Okay, then.” Grif nodded as he headed for the door, stopping just before it. “I literally have no idea what he’s going to bring up here. Godspeed, my friends. May we meet again,” he commented, and then left the room.
Vital whistled. “Never thought I’d hear him say something like that again after all he’s been through.” He nodded to Zecora, and the pair of them made their way toward the door. “We’re going to get to work setting up our own contributions. See you guys at the staging ground.” And then the two left for the deck.
Hammer Strike sighed as he moved to an open space. “By our contract, though you may be within Hell, the time has come. Lord, Rem, Ram, it is time for you to return to the mortal realm.”
A familiar symbol etched itself onto the floor of the Gantrithor in bright orange flames, and then with a flare, the three stood inside it. Lord looked to Hammer Strike in his usually even fashion.
“You called?”
“Well, I’m back, so I figured your vacation in Hell was about up,” Hammer Strike shrugged. “First things first. I’m sure you’ve noticed a few presences that shouldn’t exist are currently nearby.”
Lord nodded. “It seems as though someone is talking with forces they shouldn’t be.”
“Though I would normally send you out against them, a companion of mine has already taken that upon himself. So, I want you to join the forces outside and ensure nothing escapes. Though, if it is living and normal, of course, attempt to rescue them.”
“As you order. Girls, let’s go,” Lord called before he vanished instantly. Rem and Ram followed moments later, leaving Hammer Strike alone on the bridge again.
Hammer Strike hummed to himself. “Binding should be with Clover, Wall, and Swift within the units. Twenty minutes and I should be able to do that upgrade. Though I should gather Binding for it, I suppose,” he mused as he strode through the ship’s bowels.
Lochton had been a prosperous settlement in its heyday, having both admirable land and good fishing waters. It’s main export had been food. Nearly twenty thousand souls had called it home. Now the entire town was smothered beneath a thick blanket of black mist that bubbled over the settlement completely. Neither the gate nor the docks nor even the drainage had been left as a suitable exit from the city.
The military had surrounded it as best they could. Gryphons and Thestrals waited on the lands around the barrier while others stood atop quickly constructed barges with mounted ballistas at the ready.
Avalon and her students had been busy drawing runic pathways to better extend their range of control, even as Clover organized Unicorns to form structure points of a secondary barrier.
Everyone looked on with baited breath, prepared as they could be for the abominations that may be within. Many eyes were on Grif as he stood before the gate with Day Moon. The sun, now barely visible on the horizon, painted the sky a bloody red.
“You ready to hunt?” Grif asked his apprentice.
Daymoon nodded as he unsheathed his sword and laid a wing against his master’s side. “I’m ready.”
“By the four cardinal directions,” Grif began, holding up the hand he’d made the oath with. “And by the four secondary directions. By the central point and by the blood I gave, I demand, by my right, to access with my companion. Let this accord as old as my people and these words of power be the key that opens any door between me and my prey, and let me bring them swiftly to justice.” As Grif spoke, the mist writhed and shifted like a living thing, almost as though it were fighting against the words themselves. Grif kept repeating his words as it did so. A scar formed on his outstretched hand, shaped like the bite of a knife. Just when it seemed as though it wasn’t enough, a small hole big enough for two was torn into the mist, revealing the dark silhouettes of buildings in the distance.
Grif dove for the opening instantly and slid through cleanly. Then he signaled for Day Moon to follow him. The young Thestral shadowed his master’s steps and dove through the barrier just in time as the hole closed behind them, leaving the wall clean and unblemished to all who looked on.
The watchers from the other side had held their breaths collectively as Grif sought to force his way into the settlement. It had barely been enough to let him pick the lock. Now, it was their turn. All that they could do was wait. Wait, and prepare for what was yet to come.
Avalon looked to her students with a stern gaze. “All right, everyone. This isn’t the classroom any longer. It’s time to put your training into practice. Our purpose here is to ensure that nothing, and I do mean nothing, can escape from that place unless we let it. This is a matter of endurance. As such, we shall invoke the blessing of the Thunder Bird and make use of his formation. The might of the storm can only endure as long as the winds that propel it. We are that wind. And I expect you all to put in every effort you can to ensure success. Depending on your performances today, the Winds may see fit to grant you your familiars, but regardless of that outcome, you had best be focusing on the proper reasons for this spell. This is not for glory, nor for sport. This is real, and the stakes are very high, indeed.”
She nodded toward one of the Gryphon soldiers, who opened a casket to reveal a multitude of identical amulets, each bearing a cross section of iron within their cores. “These were forged using the remains of a portcullis, an ideal symbol for what we require in this barrier. Take them, and prepare your positions along the channels. I will take the first watch at the head. The rest of you will take the feathers and talons. Remember, we are not only evoking the power of a barrier, we are seeking the West Wind’s blessing. Push with all you have, and you shall earn it. And believe you me, you will need it. Now grab your foci and let’s move.”
Snowy alighted on her shoulder as she nodded and passed the implements to each of the apprentices. “And will someone bring me Clover?”
A few minutes later, the mare was trotting up to the Gryphoness.
“How go your preparations?” the mare asked.
“They’re nearly complete. I wanted you here for the sake of a little experiment before we begin. To my knowledge, this is the first time in our peoples’ entire history that Gryphon and Unicorn magic have ever been used in concert for a united purpose. We don’t exactly have a record of what might happen, should the two mix.”
“It’s true this is a first,” Clover acknowledged. “Though the Gryphon evokers I worked with in Old Unity had figured out a few similar aspects over time. We should have the array prepared by now. If everyone is at the right spots, we’ll have the first sixty-four point array in over two thousand years.”
“And do you have formulae that assist in helping to unite these magics?”
“Nothing practical yet,” Clover admitted. “But this is the first time so many Gryphon evokers have been non-hostile.”
“Then, if you’ll indulge me, I would like to request you assist me.” Avalon extended her palm, and a small barrier made with arching golden threads formed in a tight weave as her focus glowed. “Please, cast a smaller version of the spell you intend on this dome.”
Clover aimed her focus at the dome. Above it, just wider than the dome’s circumference, a magic ring formed from white magical light. Lines etched their way across it rapidly, forming a simple eight-pointed star before the circle descended upon the dome, the star bending around it as the ring lowered until the star’s entire being was stretched over the dome. Between the intersecting lines, facets of magic formed, creating a complex gemlike barrier.
Avalon nodded. “This is a good start, but the intent of the foci I crafted for my students is to give us the option of opening the barrier at any time without having to expend extra energy. It would be fruitless to have that work for ours while your barrier still remains to bar any innocents’ retreat, assuming there are any living that Grif deems fit to send back out.”
“That's not an issue,” Clover explained as several of the facets vanished and reappeared in rapid succession. “With the array, I can create an opening between any two points instantly.”
“Then it sounds to me that we simply need the means to coordinate between whoever is the master control on shift. I believe the message spell should prove useful, provided there is a means to have me or my Gryphons initiate the contact. That way, we can alert you when someone or something is seeking to breach our walls, so we can strengthen our efforts there, or on the opposite end, arrange those openings.”
Clover summoned up a single red stone. “Here. Give this to whoever is currently in control. It will allow them to send me a message of no more than twenty-five words. I have the opposite stone, so I will receive it anywhere.”
“How many uses?”
“Should be good for months,” Clover said. “I just recharged them yesterday.”
Avalon nodded. “Then it sounds like we have a plan. We can work on integrating our magics together later. For all we know, this could open up an entirely new field of study between our peoples.” She smiled. “Once we finish beating some sense into our students, anyway.”
Clover laughed. “That’s a task that never ends. As experience comes, you’ll see it. They think magic is all flash. They’ll take shortcuts, try things they shouldn’t. A good number of them will be maimed. Some of them may die. Be hard on them. You may save them down the line,” she offered, then nodded. “We can proceed when you are ready.”
“I’ll message you, once I’m in position. Make sure to remind your Unicorns to be careful where they step. Vital Spark and Zecora are planning on using some more natural defenses, from what I’ve heard, before they bring in their invisible friends. We don’t need any of our students breaking out in blue spots.”
“And you remember to rest.” Clover smiled. “Last thing you need right now is to go too far. Best of luck to you, Avalon. Let's make your husband proud.” And with those words, she vanished.
Avalon nodded and took to the sky, then alighted on her place in the Gryphons’ spell formation. “All right, acolytes!” she shouted as her focus flared brightly and magic began to channel through their formation with golden streaks to give their thunderbird life. “Let’s make Grif proud!”
Hammer Strike sighed as he made his way to the Gantrithor’s core, Binding following along to observe. Hammer Strike had a plan that he wanted to run by Circlet before doing it, but he was certain she would accept.
Opening the door, he frowned as he looked to the core within. “Circlet, it’s time for our discussion.”
Circlet’s ghostly form rose from the floor, looking at Hammer Strike and then the core nervously. “I am here.”
“I can see that, yes.” Hammer Strike gave a soft smile. “There are a few things I would like to bring up to you, but for now, I’m sure you have questions you’d like answered first.”
“Where did you get it?” Circlet asked.
“A long time ago, a lich took over a town outside of my reach. I had sent an aide of mine to deal with said issue before anything major could happen. However, I didn’t send him in time. The lich, Grogar, managed to take almost the entirety of the town and bind their souls within this orb.” Hammer Strike sighed. “It’s incredibly difficult to destroy these, so I’ve had to hold onto it for containment.”
“And there is no way to free those trapped within, anyway,” Circlet said. “Much like my own soul, if the stone is destroyed, they well simply cease to be.”
“Indeed.”
“Are—” a surprising bit of emotion poked through Circlet's voice as she spoke. “Are they aware?”
Hammer Strike’s eyes dimmed momentarily before resuming their natural state. “No. It was the only peace I could grant them.”
“What are your plans? You can’t release that to anyone else. Faust knows what they’d do with that kind of power.”
“I’m going to give you one question, Circlet.” He looked directly at her. “Do you trust me?”
“You and Grif have never lied to me. Despite knowing what lies in the core, you’ve never abused it. I see no reason not to trust you.”
“I can give you the freedom to step away from this ship while maintaining perfect control over it,” Hammer Strike noted. “I can give you a freedom you haven’t held in countless years, but you have to have complete trust in my actions.”
“You need to access my stone,” Circlet said. It wasn’t a question, just a clarification.
“I have to control your stone, Circlet. Temporarily, but control it, nonetheless.”
“You're asking me to put my soul into your control.”
“Yes.”
She was quiet for a long time as she considered his words. There were no clocks within the core room, so only Hammer Strike was aware of the exact amount of time she took, but it was a while later when she turned to the bloodstone core. “Core access alpha alpha beta alpha genesis epsilon,” she stated, being careful to pronounce each syllable slowly and clearly. “I trust you, Hammer Strike. ...Take care of my soul.” And then her form fizzled out as the blood stone core exploded with life. The numerous plates of bloodstone forming the orb detached and orbited rapidly as more and more plates flew off. Soon Hammer Strike watched as more layers were removed than he’d ever seen happen. Finally, the last plates floated away and the numerous bloodstones orbited a small red stone suspended in a massive ring.
Hammer Strike exhaled before connecting himself to the ship’s intercoms. “To those outside, have no fear in the upcoming actions. I am creating a temporary dock for the Gantrithor,” He called out. After a few moments, thaumic energy coalesced around his body as the earth shifted beneath the airship. Pillars erupted from the ground and shaped themselves against the ship’s hull, ensuring utmost security before he took his next action.
Once everything was secure, he took a breath. “Binding, ensure that door stays locked.”
Binding nodded and turned to face the entry. “You can count on me.”
Hammer Strike nodded as he moved toward the core and began his careful procedure. Once the stone was removed, the ship fell into it’s emergency power stage before quickly shutting down. The plates of bloodstone dropped as their source of power was removed. He focused on the stone with his thaumaturgy and managed to split it, thankfully keeping Circlet intact. Reaching into his coat, he pulled out a cloth-bound ball and removed it’s coating, revealing the stone within. Splitting it was a far more difficult task, since it contained many more souls than Circlet’s, but it was managed, just the same.
Taking one half of Circlet, he surrounded the shard and formed a new stone, one with the outermost layer being Circlet’s. Then he replicated the process for the second half, so that he held two stones once again. He looked to the Golem that had been used on the Gantrithor for a number of months. It would be temporary, but manageable for the time being. Opening the torso of the golem, he placed the second stone within and sealed it tightly, ensuring nothing could breach it.
Taking one more breath, he moved toward the core of the Gantrithor once more and placed the other stone within. The plates hummed to life and returned to their position. Mechanisms of the ship roared to life once more as each system received the power they needed. Taking a few steps back, he watched as the core’s safety plates gradually resumed their original position to protect their precious cargo.
Then he looked back to Circlet’s Golem and exhaled in relief. “It’s done.” He gave a brief smile.
The golem’s eyes lit up with blinding orange light as it came to life. Waves of white power seemed to glide across the body. And slowly, it began to alter. The genderless form it had started out with shrank slightly, gaining the thinner features of a mare, even as white fur-like growth covered the hide. The somewhat featureless face altered, gaining a defined muzzle and bone structure. The eyes became larger and rounder while maintaining a mostly artificial semblance. From the forehead, a spiraling ivory horn sprouted. Long straight hair formed a mane and tail. The glow of the eyes dimmed as the strangely alive yet clearly unnatural mare blinked at them.
“I feel strange,” she said. Her words sounded a bit clumsy at first.
“I suspected as much, given you were the equivalent of a machine up until just now,” Hammer Strike replied simply. “It’s certainly not pleasant.”
“I’m not alive,” she said, looking at a hoof. “But I feel alive. It reminds me of before I became the stone.”
“Pseudo life.” Hammer Strike nodded. “Before we can discuss things further, I need to press that trust of yours once more.”
“You’ve held my soul in your hands. I think I can trust you further.”
“By my authority as Thaumaturge, I issue this verbal contract,” Hammer Strike began once more. “I’m sorry, but I can’t risk you being swayed. Should you accept, your soul will be owned by me. This does not mean your actions are going to be mine to order. You will maintain your freedom as you are now. This will ensure that no being can warp your mind or stone against any of us in any possible way.”
“I accept,” she said. “Only, I cannot give you the ship, just myself.”
“That’s all that matters.” Hammer Strike gave a soft smile. “Then by this contract, your soul is bound to me,” he finished. His hoof flared with thaumic power as the aura surrounded Circlet. Then, as in all his previous bindings, it cleared.
Circlet moved forward and hugged the Earth Pony. “Thank you,” she said.
“You’ve spent so long assisting us. This was the least I could give.” Hammer Strike gave a small smile as he returned the embrace. “I’m sure you still have many questions.”
“I certainly have one,” Binding said casually from his place at the door. “Is it safe for me to turn around now?”
“You’re clear.”
Binding turned and whistled. “That’s some potent alchemy, all right,” he noted, then smiled. “Welcome to our little club, Miss Circlet.”
“Thank you, Binding Contract.” She let Hammer Strike go. “I hope our interactions will be beneficial ones.”
Binding smiled. “I’ve a feeling they definitely will be.”
“Now then, Hammer Strike, how did you get super administrator access?” she asked.
“By technicality, I am the … owner, I suppose you could call it, of the Crystal Empire.” Hammer Strike frowned. “Binding, would you mind alerting Clover to the situation? I have a feeling she noticed what happened, and it would be best to let her know. Grif as well, if he has made a temporary return.”
Binding nodded. “Certainly.” And then he was gone in a puff of magic.
“What about the progress inhibiting technological dampener?” she asked. “I can feel its presence, though I no longer feel its effects.”
“We … won’t be messing with that for a time. I have to slowly deactivate it, and that’ll take time to accomplish safely.”
“Understandable. The Equestrian balance of power is delicate, and technological jumping could be disastrous.”
“And it doesn’t just affect us,” Hammer Strike clarified. “The rest of the world would follow suit.”
“So what happens now?”
“For now, we deal with this threat. Afterwards, I want you to do something you’ve never done. I want you to finally take a nice long walk around New Unity.”
“I think I would like that.” She nodded.
“Good. Now, I have a question for you. When it comes to the crystal relay system, how attached is it to the Crystal Empire?”
“Currently, all relays are embedded, but they’re made to be removed or duplicated, should the empire need to alter or expand beyond foreseen parameters.”
“Now that is something I could definitely use. Though I wonder if my blueprints are still on the database…”
“If your access was never revoked, then I don’t see why they’d be erased,” she noted.
Hammer Strike hummed. “Do you think Equis is ready for a railgun?”
“A what?”
Grif and Day Moon stood on a cobblestone path looking over a landscape cloaked in a black mist. Stone buildings surrounded them, standing tall. They’d probably seemed regal in the past, but the dark influence had bent and twisted them to odd angles and made them seem almost menacing. A bent clock tower stood in the distance, seeming to glare down on them. The air was damp and musty, the smell of mildew and decay so powerful that even Grif nearly gagged at the scent. Oil street lamps were the only light source, and they bathed the area in odd uncomfortable tones.
Grif drew his katana. He’d used a small amount of his precious time to rework the hilt, which was now wrapped in simple black cloth and white rayskin. The guard had been altered. Hammer Strike had given it to him during the setup. It was a simple rounded tsuba, but the imagery was of a sword with wings spread wide. Hammerstrike had claimed it would imbue the weapon with the ability to kill the undead and other creatures. “Eyes up, Day Moon. The hunt begins.”
The young Thestral was already scanning the area. His ears twitched and flicked as his glowing eyes pierced the veil of night. He sniffed the air and held back the urge to spit. “The stones reek of blood.”
“Prepare to fight, unless the creature actually tries to speak,” Grif instructed. “I think we won’t find much of anything worth saving.”
“But we could find information?”
“Many of the creatures we are probably going to run into could kill either of us without a lot of effort. If they aren't talking, better to kill them.”
Day Moon nodded. “Yes, Sir. Do you feel anything yet? You said your oath connected you to Sombra. Is it pulling you anywhere?”
“Unfortunately, there is alot of evil around us, Day Moon.” Grif sighed as they began treading down the path. “I know he’s in here, but finding him will take time.”
Day Moon nodded. “Sometimes the best hunt is a slow hunt, right?”
“Slow, but fast-paced.” Grif grinned. “Of course, we can’t become separated for any reason or we’re dead.”
Day Moon couldn’t help grinning. “My heart’s pounding, but I can’t stop smiling.”
“Your heart’s pounding, huh? Can you hear the ringing in your ears, too?” Grif asked.
Day Moon blushed. “I do almost every time I hunt, really.”
“Yes, but how often have you been allowed to hunt something that can kill you?” grif asked. “Your people make the young ones hunt rabbits and small game, don’t they?”
“Until they’re experienced enough to go after the bigger game, yes.” Day Moon nodded as they rounded a corner and stood next to a far smaller lamp post that wasn’t lit. He frowned. “That’s different,” he noted as he pointed at the structure that looked more like a sapling than a proper lamp. “And we’re supposed to be wary of different, right?”
“Yes.” Grif nodded. His grip tightened as one hand reached for a crossbow. “Let’s see what your tracking lessons have taught you. See what you can figure out.”
Day Moon crept carefully toward the lamp and sniffed closely. “There are different scents here. Some are bloody. Others are cleaner. There’s incense and perfume for some. And under it all, I can smell….” He took a deep breath, then nodded. “Fear. Someone or multiple someones fled this way or congregated here, then ran. Why, I’m not sure. It could have been because of corruption. Or maybe one of them was already a monster hiding among them.” He shook his head. “It’s too early to say.”
“Good job.” Grif nodded. “What direction did they run from?”
“I can’t tell for sure. I … I think one of them died here, though.” He pointed at the base of the lantern. “It … it looks almost like it’s feeding on the blood to grow.”
“Vampires, then,” Grif said. He handed Day Moon three flasks. “Drink one now, and one next time we rest. It won’t taste good. It’s silver extract mixed with garlic.”
Day Moon nodded and threw back the concoction. His mouth curled in distaste, but he forced himself to swallow every drop, rather than allow the opportunity for the tincture to go to waste.
“Hopefully, that will reach your bloodstream before we encounter any.”
“I’m more concerned about this mist. It doesn’t feel right, Grif.” Day Moon shook his head.
“You wearing your amulet?” Grif asked.
Day Moon nodded.
“That's not a good sign.” Grif sighed. He drew a knife and pricked his finger before setting it on the ground and spinning it. It spun for several seconds before stopping pointing in a westernly direction. “We’ll go that way.”
Day Moon nodded and they strode forward with an abundance of caution.
Several blocks later, they found themselves stumbling into a sight. At first glance, the creatures looked like a pack of dogs, though their fur had been stripped off in places. They were skeletally thin, and yet their mouths were filled with large curved teeth.
“Are they undead?” Day Moon whispered as he prepared his sword.
“I think so.” Grif nodded, holding his katana at the ready. “Don’t run,” he warned.
“I won’t.”
“How many do you hear?” Grif asked.
“Five ahead. Three more around a corner. And….” He swallowed to hold back the bile. “I think I just heard one more being born.”
“None behind us or to the sides?” Grif confirmed.
“Not yet. But I don’t trust this place. We should be ready to fly, if we need to, to take the high ground.”
“Get your crossbow ready,” Grif instructed. “They’ll come for you when they realize I’m not an easy target.”
“And they’ll see they won’t have any more luck with me,” Day Moon said grimly as he locked in a bolt.
Grif charged, not giving the canines time to coordinate as he closed the distance in a few breaths. He decapitated one beast and ran the second through with a thrust. As expected, two more turned to bare their teeth at him as the one remaining and three more appearing from around the corner barreled toward Day Moon. The two corpses they had been feasting on melted into piles of black and red ooze.
As Day Moon’s first shot pierced the skull of the lead creature, Grif slashed with his katana, eviscerating another beast, which fell to the ground whining as it slowly died. The second attempted to pin him from behind, only to receive a flask of glowing white fluid to the face. The creature hissed in pain as its body began to writhe from the liquid. The remaining two were almost to Day Moon as the colt managed a second shot, catching one through the throat. The last one charged ahead and had already pounced before Day Moon drew his sword. Time slowled around Grif as he lined up the shot and fired his crossbow. The bolt struck the back of the beast's skull just as Day Moon ducked out of the way. Grif stood there huffing as he examined the carnage.
“We should take what supplies we can and keep moving,” Day Moon said. “I doubt we weren’t heard. I’ll see if I can’t find a place to get more information. Someone’s bound to know something, if we can just talk with somepony.”
“You think these had anything to loot?” Grif chuckled. “Retrieving our bolts, if we’re lucky, seems like our best chance.”
“That’s what I meant, Grif.” Day Moon strode to the corpses and fished out what bolts were still intact. “By the way, what was in that bottle you threw? It didn’t look like holy water.”
“It’s purity. I can’t explain much more than that. It’s essentially purity broken to its most basic state given form.”
“How many of those do you have in stock?”
“Seven vials. I’d need a source of purity to refill them, which I’m not likely to find much of here.”
“Then we’ll have to choose the best times to use them.” Day Moon nodded. “I’m ready to go when you are.” He sighed as he looked over the towering roofs and leaning windows. “I get the feeling we’re going to be doing a lot of running in circles before we find our quarry.”
“Yes.” Grif nodded. “This is his chessboard.”
“Then we’d best be prepared for his move. Do you want to take the streets or the rooftops?”
Grif sighed. “Rooftops would be wiser.”
“Then rooftops it is.”
Hammer Strike stood atop the Gantrithor, watching over all the work that went into containing the waves of dark energy that seeped from the dome. Everyone had a role to fulfill, and while there were things he could do, he decided to let Grif take charge as requested.
This in turn, however, resulted in him having the only task of overview. He was watching over the mages to make sure everything went according to plan while ensuring the other hunters kept watch over all sides of the dome. Overall, the plan was running smoothly, and with Lord, Rem, and Ram assisting, even if something did escape, they’d be prepared.
He hummed to himself as he looked over the dome once more. Every time he blinked, it would shift to some different form until it suddenly stopped.
It took him a second to register the fact that the temperature had dropped and it was more than just the dome that had stopped.
“I see you’ve returned,” he heard a voice from his side.
Hammer Strike gave a brief chuckle. “It’s been a while, Outsider.”
“It has.” The Outsider gave a small smirk as he took a seat next to Hammer Strike. “It was interesting to see your trips through time. Though it was most certainly more than just time you traveled through. But that isn’t the main concern at the moment. Someone has decided to make a contract.”
“Sombra, yes.” Hammer Strike sighed. “He’s going to extremes.”
“He’s calling forth all kinds of beings, most of which shouldn’t exist within this world,” Outsider remarked. “They’re working outside the bounds of a previous contract, which is undesirable. On all accounts.”
“But, based off the way you’re phrasing it, means it’s still within the limits?”
“Correct.”
“Grif’s going to have an interesting time, then, to say the least.” Hammer Strike sighed. “Though it’s against what he may want, I may have to take more drastic measures.”
“I’m certain he’ll figure it out.” Outsider looked to the dome once again. “He appears capable enough.”
“And you expect capability to be enough?”
“Not in the slightest, but he’ll manage, one way or another.”
Hammer Strike rolled his eyes. “I’ll assume you know something I don’t and leave it there.”
“Of course. Even if I could tell you everything, you wouldn’t listen to half of it, anyway. Has my gift been assisting you well?”
“The sight thing is quite useful at times, though I admittedly don’t use the whole … displacement thing that often.”
“That’s fine. Though sooner or later, you’re going to have to start using the rest of it.”
“I’m sorry, what?” Hammer Strike turned his attention to Outsider, only to find an empty space. “Oh, come on, don’t you start that.”
All Hammer Strike got in return was a disembodied, “Good luck.”
“Okay, it seems things were a little worse than expected.” Grif panted as they rested in the crawlspace of an attic in one of the stone houses. As it turned out, the roof was not the safer choice. Mutated bats had harried the two from the beginning. And while they were easy to kill, their massive numbers had made the last hour difficult. They had managed to avoid serious injuries, but both were covered in shallow cuts and scrapes.
“Those … were not fruit bats,” Day Moon panted as he laid on his back and splayed his hooves on the floor.
“Vampire bats.” Grif nodded. “Probably augmented by real vampirism. Normally, bats aren't so aggressive, even in large groups.”
“Well, at least we managed to kill them.”
“You doing okay?” Grif asked as he cleaned his blade and checked the edge.
“Honestly? This is a lot harder than I thought it was going to be. I think I’ll be okay. I just … need a couple of minutes.”
“We should be safe here. You should take a rest. I'll see if there’s anything we can use, okay?” Grif asked.
Day Moon nodded and rose to his hooves, then pulled out his sword. “I’ll keep watch.”
Grif found the trap door leading down and stalked through the house carefully with a hand on his sword as he checked the rooms of the upper floor. He was just finishing a sweep of what would have been the master bedroom when something crashed on the floor below. Swearing under his breath, Grif stalked downstairs as quietly and quickly as he could. What he found in the large landing made him pause.
A large bookshelf had been knocked over recently. Books and paper lay about the room in a mess. Several broken vases indicated they’d fallen in the commotion. As Grif scanned the room, finding no scents he could pick up, a small white crystal device with a red face floated form the book case. It had a small gold clip at the top of one of many protrusions and a large glowing blue eye.
Before Grif could say anything, a hoof quickly reached up and pulled the device down, “Hey-hey. Down, down, down…” He heard a voice call out softly before a cloaked figure peered above the bookshelf.
Grif had a loaded crossbow out and pointed toward the figure. “Who are you?”
“Hey, I should be the one asking that question,” the stallion remarked. “Then again, from what I’ve been hearing, you’re at least not on their side.”
“I have a meeting with the person who did all this. It’s going to be a short one.”
“Feel like I’ve heard that somewhere before,” the stallion muttered. “Yeah, well, if you’re after the walking aftermath of a fire, I haven’t got a clue. Kinda hard to track when he can just, you know, phase through walls.”
“Big spell like this, I imagine he’d have to keep close to the center,” Grif noted. “But we’re off topic here. Who are you? Don’t make me ask again.”
“Or you’ll shoot me with a sharpened metal rod?” he questioned. “While that may work on the whole piercing of my ‘hide,’ it won’t work out how you expect. The name’s Cayde.”
“Grif,” Grif offered. “And I wouldn’t shoot you.” His aim tilted so slightly. “I’d shoot that thing.”
“Hey, hey!” The stallion pulled the crystal device close and behind him. “You keep Failsafe out of this.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t realise I was supposed to trust a random stranger in a barrier full of monsters,” Grif said sarcastically, then sighed as he lowered the crossbow. “Look. If you're not going to fight, head for the barrier. Try and find a way out. There is an army outside. Ask to see Lord Hammer Strike. He’ll get you sorted out.”
“Yeah, no can do. Kinda goes against my ord—I’m sorry, did you say Hammer Strike?”
“Yes, Lord Hammer Strike.”
“Is it the real him? Not the whole smaller, less scarred version of him?”
“He just came back from a trip through time. He’s grown up since then.” Grif chuckled.
“So, you work for him, then.”
“I’ve given him my oath. We both don’t want any more innocents hurt in this mess than necessary. I just have a personal debt with smokey.”
The stallion sighed. “Took him long enough. I’ve been sitting on these same orders for ages now.” After a minute, he stood up from behind his cover, giving a small twirl to a revolver in his grip before sheathing it.
“Always keep your hand hidden?” Grif chuckled as he sheathed several throwing blades. Then he did a double take. “Wait a second. Is that revolver?”
“Correction. That is a magitech revolver. One of a kind.”
“Derflinger,” Grif growled. “So, what will you do? Me and my companion have to keep going until this is over.”
“I’ll be doing what I have been this whole time. Shooting them until they’re dead. Especially since the bossman is back. Can’t let him think I’m slacking.” Cayde shifted his cloak to reveal his mechanical eyes.
“Not a good idea, generally.” Grif nodded. “Want to tell me what happened here?” He gestured to the bookcase.
“Well, when you get creatures that can shoot stuff back….” He left the comment hanging. “The difference between the two of us is my gun can shoot through a bookshelf.”
Grif drew a throwing blade, aimed at a wall, and tossed it. The blade vanished through it. When cayde checked the room, he found a hole in the opposite wall. When he checked that room, he found the blade buried into a stone block of a fireplace.
“Showoff,” Cayde remarked. “Take it easy, will you? You’re gonna make me look bad.”
“Get good.” Grif chuckled. “Anyway, have you cleared this floor? I found nothing to worry about upstairs, and my companion in the attic could use a rest. The roof was definitely a bad idea.”
“Yeah, should be fine. Though I do need to clear the first floor next.”
“Cleared it before this happened.” Grif smirked. “Is there anything you need from us?”
“Got any spare X-52 mag-blocks?”
“Uh … no?”
“Then you’ve got your answer. A shame, too. I could really use some spare rechargeable mags.”
“Well, at least you don’t have blood or brains to worry about,” Grif noted.
“Blood, wrong. Brains? I’ll be insulted later.”
“Well, I’m going to get my companion, then see if this place has anything useful. You’re welcome to stay or go,” Grif said as he turned to leave.
“Yeah, you’re out of luck if there was nothing on the first floor,” Cayde replied.
“Of course. Why would the man-eating monsters not take everything useful?” Grif chuckled. “Maybe I'll punch one of these walls, see if a turkey comes out.”
“Sadly, most wall-turkeys expired at least two months ago.” Cayde shook his head. “At most, seven thousand years ago.”
Grif wasn’t sure how to respond to that, so he just quietly left the room.
Cayde hummed to himself. “I don’t think he got the reference.”
Pensword stood on a makeshift elevated platform they’d formed out of an overturned apple wagon. He kept a constant watch over the barrier while Thestrals moved back and forth to prepare for the inevitable.There was no chance of the enemy striking from behind, but the one that lay ahead was perhaps among the most dangerous they had yet to face.
As a result of this fact, Pensword had also made sure that they maintained visuals on each other at all times. It would be impossible for anything to try to take out any Thestrals without another two witnessing. As an added precaution, each patrol carried a set of flares to fire in case of emergency.
He was not moving, because the mist wall was trying to draw him in. The calls of the trapped souls screamed for release and mercy, begged anyone to hear them to help them, free them, end them before Sombra’s cursed arts could corrupt them and pervert their purpose in the peace of the glens beyond the veil.
And then, quite suddenly, the moaning rose to a keening. Shrieks of fear rang through the commander’s ears. The wall writhed and roiled like boiling water. A cold trembling struck him, as though Death himself were about to pass through that portal to pass judgement on them all.
“Messenger.” A thestral appeared next to him. As an added precaution, none were using their names, in case these creatures may have some means of incorporating them into spells of domination or worse.
“What do you need, Glasses?”
“Tell the Thestrals that any monsters that get through, even if they look like normal Ponies, must be dispatched. They are forced to remain here and cannot move on. Killing them will be a blessing.”
A loud howling shriek filled the air as the impending doom finally made itself known. In the small space between the dome and Avalon’s barrier, a figure emerged. The first part to emerge resembled the front of a fully grown horse that had been skinned. But as it pressed forward, more was revealed. The entire body of a horse without so much as a patch of fur or skin stood before them. Merged to the center of it’s back was a humanoid torso with a head and glowing red eyes. Impossibly long arms hung mere inches above the ground and were topped with sharp curved black claws. The creature began to attack the barrier. Large clawed hands battered at the Gryphons’ layer rapidly and without mercy, raining powerful blows upon it.
Pensword’s first action was to let loose a flare to announce trouble. He was confused as he blinked. “Messenger, that is not a soul from the town. The other spirits are afraid of it. My best guess is that’s some form of demon. Get the Gryphons now!” He racked his brains for a strategy. This was a creature he had never heard of before, and an unknown enemy was a dangerous enemy.
The constant rain of blows continued, so powerful that Pensword could feel the ground tremble with every strike. Already, he could see hairline cracks beginning to form on the first layer. He frowned as Thestrals gathered up around the wagon. Messenger was already halfway to the Gryphon command post. “Thestrals, ready the iron arrows and loose!”
The first volley peppered the creature liberally. The tips hissed and burned on contact, even as they pierced the beast’s flesh. The demon threw its head back and shrieked, a sound so terrible that Pensword could feel his soul shiver. A few of the Thestrals faltered as fear washed over their faces.
Pensword choked out the next words. “Next volley! Loose!” As he spoke, he found strength again. “The cries strike fear into us. Think of your loved ones. Think of home and hearth. Fire not for us, but for those we stand to protect!”
The second volley was shaky as the Thestrals fired. However, the beast clearly slowed as more arrows peppered it. The third volley brought it crashing to its front knees with low groans as smoke rose from it’s form from the numerous cold iron arrows that penetrated it. The final shot pierced its heart, and the beast felt. As they watched, it’s body crumbled to ashes before them, leaving only a pile of arrows inside the barrier.
Pensword looked at his men. “Good job!” Gryphons were already flying towards them as they saw the monsters crumble to ash. “Right, we are not going to collect those arrows, but those that need to should go restock, then get back on patrol.” He looked to the sky. “Take torches with you. Keep them unlit unless they are needed.”
As the Gryphons settled down, their leader approached Pensword. “What happened?” he asked.
“Demon attack, a horse with a humanoid in the middle of the back with arms almost reaching the ground. All flesh looked like it had been removed, and cold iron ultimately dispatched it.”
A smaller Gryphon, a bluejay with a housecat’s body, approached looking through a book. “The records we have from prior to the Discordian era speak of such a creature,” he said as he leafed through the tome. He stopped at a page with a very familiar sketch and showed it to Pensword.
“That’s the beast.” Pensword nodded as he eyed the unfamiliar characters that surrounded the image.
“The nuckelavee,” the Gryphon explained. “A powerful water demon of the ancient past. The last recorded one was killed thirty six hundred years ago,” he explained. “How did you kill it?”
“Four volleys of cold iron arrows.” Pensword answered.
The scholar nodded as he took out an empty book and began taking notes. “Unseelie, then. This will be useful in the future. If our scouts are correct, it’s likely several beasts got out before we arrived.
“That worries me,” Pensword said softly.
“I’ll add it to the list.” the Gryphon promised. “Thank goodness the emperor values these texts. Who knows how another emperor would have treated our knowledge?”
“Knowledge is power,” Pensword agreed gravely. Let us hope that power may be of use to us now.”
“You know, when we started this, vampires were one of the things I was most worried about,” Grif said as he traded blows with the Pony in question. “Now, honestly, I think I prefer this to some of the stuff we’ve had to fight.”
Day Moon huffed as Shadowsbane clashed with his vampire’s weapons. It cackled and licked the tip of one of the many knives that hovered in the air. They reflected the glowing light in its eyes as the laughter carried and the dance began again. The colt had already been cut a couple of times, and blood clotted along his cheek, dyeing it partially crimson. “For power, yes,” he agreed. “Their speed is still annoying, though.” He growled in frustration as his sword clashed against the creature’s blades again. Finally, he managed to land a solid hit to his enemy’s hoof and severed it at the fetlock. The knives clattered to the ground as the vampire hissed in pain. The creature’s coat lost its sheen, and its face became wan as it nursed the wound. Day Moon smirked and entered a defensive stance. “Come at me.”
With the draining power granted by his sword stroke, it was far easier for Day Moon to match his foe. The creature was easily parried and swiftly dispatched. Its head flew through the air for a time before it disintegrated into ash and billowed on the wind toward the roiling black dome overhead.
Grif smiled as he caught his opponent's wrist with his sword arm before shoving a sharpened ash stake through its heart. He backed away as the creature's body began to turn to ash. “Good job,” he complimented. “That wouldn’t be an easy kill for a full-grown stallion, and you handled it well.”
Day Moon nodded. “Thanks.”
“Clean your sword,” Grif said. “Then we’ll move on.”
The colt pulled out a white cloth and slid it gently over his sword’s edge. The blood that came off the blade looked black and ichorous, not unlike tar. He nodded as he replaced the cloth in his pack.
“You doing okay?” Grif asked. “Looks like a nasty cut there.”
Day Moon shook his head. “I’ll be okay.” He reached into a separate pouch and pulled out a cloth to wipe the excess away from his cheek. “You said this would happen, right?” His hoof shook slightly as he returned the cloth to its pouch.
“You don’t have to play tough.” Grif knelt down to the colt’s level and laid a hand on his shoulder. “This is a lot more than someone like you should ever be asked to do. This isn’t easy. It’s hard enough for me, and I’ve been doing this a lot longer than you.”
“If I don’t play tough, I’ll cry, Grif,” Day Moon said softly. The tremors spread through his body, as if encouraged by the contact. “We can’t afford that right now.”
“War and battle is rough. Your people and mine tend to forget that. More so for those that hunt these kinds of monsters. Tears are just as much part of the experience as anything else.”
“Then … it’s okay to cry?” His voice cracked from his throat choking up.
“Many will tell you that real men and stallions don’t cry. And those people are wrong,” Grif said sincerely. “If we can’t express our emotions, then what are we fighting for?”
Day Moon sniffled as the streaks coursed down his cheeks. A few stray tatters remained on the cobblestones, the last evidence of the creatures they had just destroyed. “For them,” he whispered. “And for everyone outside.”
“That's great, poetic even. They’ll write great poems about your heroic fall,” Grif told him. “But it all starts here.” He poked a talon at the center of the colt's chest. “Fight for your heart. Fight for your right to peace, no matter what form it comes in. That's rule number one, okay?”
Day Moon’s lips pulled up into a weak smile. “I thought rule number one was never to underestimate your opponent.”
“There're a lot of rule number ones.” Grif chuckled. “I learn a new one every day.”
An involuntary snort escaped the colt. “Must cost a lot of bits for a family reunion.”
“Probably.” Grif smiled as he rose to his paws again.. “Listen, if you need to slow down and take a moment to handle things, don’t be afraid to ask, okay? We’re in this together.”
“But won’t that give Sombra time to get ready for us?”
“Maybe, but it won’t matter if we’re not ready for him. Besides, that's going to be something for you to consider all on it’s own. Up till now, we’ve only been killing mindless monsters. Sombra’s a non-corrupted living being who chose this pact. You need to be ready for what that means.”
“In other words, be ready for strategy, instead of blunt instinct?”
“Be ready to kill a person,” Grif corrected. “It’s not nearly so easy.”
Hammer Strike hummed to himself as he examined everyone at work. He was walking through the makeshift camp that had been established outside of the Gantrithor, giving assistance whenever the opportunity arose.
Clover stood by the barrier, her horn and her focus glowing brightly as she fed magic into the Unicorn array to keep it going. To most, she likely appeared still strong and alert, but Hammer Strike could see the fatigue behind her eyes as she worked to feed the spell.
“I have to commend you on managing a spell like this with the wrong focus,” Hammer Strike remarked as he drew near.
“That staff is meant for taking down armies, not maintaining a fence,” Clover retorted as she worked. “This is nothing. I could keep this up for days.”
“Fair enough, I suppose.” Hammer Strike chuckled. “Though, I get the feeling there’s something holding you back.” He gave her a knowing look.
“Whatever could that mean, my lord?” she asked wryly as she worked. “Not all of us are gifted to be as ever youthful.”
“Oh, hush. Or I’ll take the cream and let you use the medical cube.” He chuckled again. “Is the spell automated, and you’re simply feeding it?”
“As long as my apprentices keep the beacon points, all it needs is power to keep going. I think the Gryphons’ barrier is feeding from the excess.”
“Then go and ‘freshen up’ or whatever you wish to call it. I can feed it power while you’re away.”
“Always have to show off, don’t you?” she asked before letting out a sigh. “Let me know when you have it.”
Hammer Strike connected his thaumic field to the spell. “You’re clear.”
Clover nodded as she let go of her own feed. She nodded to him again in acknowledgement before turning and walking off. Twenty minutes later, the mare returned. Her once washed-out colors were now much more vibrant. The bags under her eyes were gone, and she looked much more ready to go with the face Hammer Strike remembered when he answered the door all those years ago. She’d swapped out her usual brown cloak with the dark blue one she’d worn around the palace. The symbol of Hammer Strike’s house insignia was carefully embroidered on it. She leveled her now bright eyes at him. “Happy?” she asked.
“Gee, I don’t know. Are you?” Hammer Strike chuckled.
Clover rolled her eyes as she summoned her focus again. This time, her horn lit brightly, and her mana merged into the barrier without issue. Still, Hammer Strike didn’t fail to miss the small smile on her face, nor the flick of her tail on his side.
“Exactly.” Hammer Strike released his hold on the barrier. “I do hope you’re prepared for the absolute load of questions that will come your way.”
“Unicorns have made themselves appear youthful for thousands of years. This will be no different.”
“Yes, but I’m sure you’ve noticed that spell has fallen out of use,” Hammer Strike remarked. “That, and most forms of magic detection will note a change in the flow of power around you. Though, that was already the case since my return.”
“I’ll have some questions for you when this is over, too,” she noted. “I’m pretty sure there is a lot that happened while I was petrified.”
“Only a few major events. One of the major ones being the banishment of Star Swirl.”
“You actually banished him? What did he do this time?”
Hammer Strike sighed. “Nearly unpetrified you. Considering the situation, yes, I could have cured you, but I get the feeling he would have tried to do it behind my back had I not removed him.”
“That sounds like him.” She sighed. “Now, if I can just find out where the old bat disappeared to, I can put it to rest.”
“Last I heard his name was in the Crystal Empire, which was sometime after I left to return here.” Hammer Strike stopped and hummed to himself. “Now that I think about it, I interacted with him at some point in my past, and he didn’t appear to recognize me. Though my name was the same, my appearance was drastically different, so he probably thought of me as someone given the name, especially since it was a number of years after my departure.”
“All historical records say he vanished sometime after that,” Clover noted. “Apparently, he decided to take it upon himself to teach Celestia and Luna after the Discordian era.”
“Took advantage of their confusion is more like it.” Hammer Strike frowned. “Now that I think about it, I have an important question for you.”
“Yes?”
“Do you remember Yharon?”
“Yharon? Of course I remember Yharon. That’s like asking me if I remember Starlight Bulwark.”
“While I would normally agree,” Hammer Strike sighed. “Nobody else does besides Binding, Wall, Swift, and us. Celestia and Luna only remember us in the household.”
“That's weird,” Clover said. “I’ll have to see. Hopefully, those memories are just blocked.”
“I hope so, too. But I find it so strange. While there are plenty of things that have happened, the only real incident that I know of that could have done it would have been Discord. But, thankfully, even he has limits on what he would do.”
“And Yharon was an exceptionally powerful mage,” Clover noted. “Seems like he’d have warded them against it.”
Hammer Strike frowned. “We’ll figure it out when this situation has been settled.”
“Yes. For now, I need to hold this up, and you should probably get back to the ship before whatever’s inside this notices you.”
“Thankfully, I have a friend who’s been assisting me in that regard, though he’s cryptic about it all.” Hammer Strike gave a brief smirk. “But, I suppose I should go all the same.”
“See you later.”
Grif had one of his crossbows out and ready as they entered the area. The last two hours had been too quiet for his taste, and he was certain they were going to be running into something big. “Anything on your end?” he asked the young Thestral as he scanned their surroundings and the path ahead.
Day Moon shook his head. “Quiet as a grave.”
“That's what worries me. It feels like something’s hunting, and I don’t know if it’s them or us.”
“Considering you still have a pulse, I’m going to go with them,” A voice called out from the shadows. The body jutted half-way out from a nearby wall. A vivid red trench coat covered most of his torso and back while his lush black mane jutted at wild angles with the power he was using. His red eyes seemed almost disturbed by ripples frozen in time as they glowed. His fur was a pure, almost ghostly white, and his fangs were bared in a cheeky grin.
Grif almost shot him, but managed to stop himself as he examined the figure. “Uh, hello?”
“Yes, hi. Question for you. Who are you and what are you doing here?” the figure questioned. “Last I checked, and believe me, I’ve had a thorough check, there really wasn’t anything living here anymore.”
“We got in late,” Grif said.
“Uh, Grif, isn’t that a vampire?” Day Moon asked.
“Excuse me. I’ll have you know I am more than just a vampire,” the figure expressed indignantly as he fully stepped through the wall. “You’ll get it right next time.”
“So, uh … what are you, then?”
“A real bucking vampire. And yes, that is the title,” he replied with a razor-toothed grin. “Now, back to the question at hoof….”
“Your name wouldn’t happen to be Tarefson?” Grif asked.
“It would be, though I go by many names. Vampire, monster, hey-you-what-are-you-doing, and ... Johnny.”
“Johnny?” Grif raised an eyebrow.
“It was the sixties. Leave it at that.”
“Which sixties?” Day Moon asked.
“The one in the past.” He groaned. “Jeez, what do they teach you kids in history nowadays?”
“Well, then, if you’re Tarefson, we have the same boss.”
“Last I checked, the ‘boss’ you refer to isn’t quite my boss. He’s a little on the short side.”
“He’s grown up since then,” Grif said. “Just got back from hell in the past.”
Tarefson hummed to himself momentarily. “Well, that’ll make things interesting. Perhaps he can finally let the contract up a little, now that he’s back.”
“Well then, perhaps we can work together? Get through this that much faster?”
“You see, while I might have agreed to that, I can’t. Contract doesn’t allow for potential collateral damage.”
“Don’t think you're good enough to avoid killing us?” Grif smirked.
“Oh, you misunderstand. I can do that, but that’s no fun. You’re both so focused on killing them that you’d give me no room to enjoy it.”
“Well, hey. If you’re a coward, that’s your thing.” Grif shrugged. “Just stay out of our way, I guess.”
Tarefson chuckled. “Yeah, sure. You two go have your fun. I’m going to have mine. Though, I will give you a word of warning. You see a mare wearing the golden guard plating, try not to kill her. She’s new to the whole vampire thing.”
“You created a vampire?” Grif asked.
“Remember that strain I mentioned on the whole contract? She may have gotten in the way. Only way to resolve the issue was to offer her the chance to keep living. Technically…. Not really.” He shrugged. “You get what I mean.”
“That's between you and him. She doesn’t attack us, we won’t attack her,” Grif promised.
“Trust me, she’s not really in the fighting mood. More in the, ‘I just had a hole in my torso,’ kinda mood.” Tarefson shrugged as he turned in a random direction. “Anyway, have fun, I’m gonna go kill more wannabe vampires. Maybe a grue if he’s got one.”
Day Moon watched silently as the vampire strode away and then passed through yet another building. Inhuman screams were soon cut short into dying gurgles mingled with a manic laughter.
“Grif,” Day Moon finally said, “what just happened?”
“You just learned a secret about Hammer Strike that not many know. He has his own monsters.”
Day Moon paused to consider that for a time and frowned in thought. “Well, I guess we can add Dark Lord to his official titles now.”
Grif laughed loudly as he clapped the colt on the back.
“Well, that was a bit of a bust,” Vital Spark said as he looked over the wilted blue flowers. A whole swath of them had been completely reduced to little more than black husks under the nuckelavee’s advance.
“Did you really expect otherwise?” Zecora asked as tendrils coiled around her legs from the earth and a dim green glow suffused her hooves. “Life does find a way, but it is not invincible. Many creatures of darkness know how to counteract nature, and others still twist it to their own ends. It would do you credit to focus more on holy arts to counter the darkness or at least help to better contain it. And at the very worst, to combat it. You know well that cold iron will only work for so many. If a greater evil breaches those walls, then Equestria and all of Equis will fall on hard times, indeed.”
Vital frowned as he worked his mortar and pestle. “I’ll get started on that after I finish this batch of mana potion. Is there any word from the other spirits?”
“Far from good.” Zecora glared at the bubble. “That is an abomination. Sombra is a fool for trying this. Either foolish or very desperate.” She shook her head. “Mother does not appreciate what he is doing.”
“And that is?”
“There are many doors that exist in magic, Vital Spark. Several are locked, and others are buried or destroyed. Sombra is endeavoring to restore one of these doors to invite something that ought not to be here. The Earth Mother does not approve, and neither do I.”
“Can we banish whatever he summons if he succeeds?”
Zecora shook her head. “I honestly don’t know.”
Vital Spark shuddered.
“For now, we must trust Grif and the colt. And I must return to calming the spirits. Several lesser undead managed to escape the confines of the barrier before we arrived. They’ve scattered to the winds. I am endeavoring to track them, but it isn’t so easy as you might think. They have a head start, and the spirits are right to be wary.”
Vital Spark nodded. “Then it sounds like we both have work to do. You for your investigation and me for keeping our casters going.”
“Let us hope that they will not be needed for much longer. This door should never have been remade. It needs to be destroyed.”
Vital Spark nodded as he ignited a burner with his magic to start brewing. “I agree.”
“Okay, so you're going to do a quick fly over the building,” Grif went over with Day Moon for the sixth time. “No fancy stuff; no being a hero. You’re going to see what you can and come right back here.”
“I understand, Grif,” Day Moon assured him. “You trained me for this, after all.” He smiled. “I’ll be there and back again before you know it.” He extended his wings and nodded to the Gryphon. “And if I run into more bats, then I’ll lead them right back here,” he promised. A few beats of his wings, and he was airborne. The flaps were loud for his takeoff, but as he climbed higher into the air, the beats became softer and softer. The young foal had taken to his lessons well. It wasn’t so much the lift generated by flapping as the outpouring of his magic to produce the necessary lift.
Just as he found himself out of Grif’s line of sight, a dark image appeared in the sky. It flew towards him, growing larger as it did. By the time he could make it out, he found himself looking upon a large twisted birdlike creature. It had red-black eyes that seemed impossibly deep, and a long curved serrated beak. Horrible hooked talons hung below it, and it bellowed at him with a beak full of razor teeth. It bee-lined for the colt almost immediately, its talons flexing menacingly.
Day Moon knew better than to direct the creature back to Grif. It had seen him. To alert Sombra to anything more would only make the hunt more difficult. The only other option was to lead the bird away. Day Moon acted accordingly. Rather than wait for the talons to come for him, he drew Shadowsbane and strafed the creature, using the force of its momentum to slice it on the wing and prepare for the next part of the challenge. The force of the impact knocked the sword from his grip, and it spiralled toward the dark streets below.
“No!” the colt dove as quickly as he could. His wings clung tightly to his sides as he went all the faster. He wasn’t about to lose his partner after working so hard to get to know it properly. The monstrosity took advantage of the action to launch a counterattack and entered into a dive of its own, one accelerated by the sheer bulk it generated and the great boom of its flapping wings.
Day Moon just managed to snatch the sword when the beast’s triumphant caws raked his ears while razor talons slashed his back. He cried in pain, but refused to let go of his partner.
The pain triggered an anger Day Moon didn’t fully understand. Something white hot inside him wanted to lash out. Unseen by him, his eyes took on a light glow as he struggled to keep the rage down. Shadowsbane glowed, and seemed almost to resonate with a white aura that pulsed in time with the foal’s fur and eyes. The cloak had been reduced to tatters, and the tang of blood carried on the air, pushing the colt’s Thestral instincts to the fore when the slits on his eyes narrowed and his glowing irises transitioned into piercing orbs that seemed almost to burn with their intensity.
The blood pumping in his ears became gradually louder as he looked at the creature. He found himself growling at it in an almost bestial fashion. He could smell it, the reek of corruption and evil upon it. It needed to die. It had no place in the world.
Such creatures deserved to be hunted, slaughtered, and consumed. And as with his favorite fruit bat, his mouth began to water. He spun in the air, and as he did so, his teeth felt almost as though they were vibrating as his fangs thickened and lengthened. Incisors and molars broadened and sharpened. The burning spread into his chest, and as he breathed, steam emerged into the night air. His wings flapped wide as the cuts over his back knit together, and his pristine white fur grew over the top once again. The sword seemed almost to hum and vibrate in its sheath. And Day Moon grinned as he pulled the sword loose. The shadows and the fog in the air seemed drawn to the blade. Even the miasma of the creature’s breath was consumed. And like power flowing through a completed circuit, the tiny runes along the blade began to glow, rising from the crossguard and flooding higher, higher, higher still. Radiant light blended with the silver as a bell-like tone was soon replaced with a full throated ringing laughter.
“Gods, I forgot how good it was to feed. It’s about time you woke up, boy. I was getting tired of waiting. You ready to let loose and reap this bloody pigeon?”
Day Moon shot like an arrow, his sword ringing as it cut through the air before him. The manic laughter was the perfect complement to the Thestral’s bloodlust, and a cry that was half screech, half roar tore from the colt’s throat as he plunged the tip of the falchion through the creature’s breast and jerked the blade upward. Moments later, a great projection of silvery-white energy burst through the creature’s back as Shadowsbane’s magic went to work, purging the dark energies and consuming them to slake its rapidly growing appetite.
The bird screamed in agony as it petrified, and then exploded into a great cloud of dust, leaving a fully awakened Shadowsbane that pulsed menacingly in the grip of its equally bloodthirsty partner. Day Moon’s chest heaved as he held the sword in trembling hooves.
“Now that’s a battleborn if ever I’ve met one!” Shadowsbane crowed. “You’re still a new blood, and you’d give my last partner a run for his money already!”
“Day Moon,” a familiar voice spoke. “You need to calm down.”
The colt hissed as he fixed his gaze on the intruder. He beheld the face of a bird, much like the one he had just killed, but this one did not carry the stench that so roused his instincts. There was something almost familiar in it, though not quite what he could recognize. His heart continued to race, and as his ears swiveled. He could hear the movements of the corrupted beasts, their calls and cries begging for him to hunt, to claim, to feast. The glow in his eyes intensified as he growled.
“You know how it is, old blood. You’ve got two options. Let him run it out or knock him out. I won’t stop you this time, out of respect for your bond to my partner as his master. But we’re both raring for a fight. And the drums are hammering hard. You’d best move fast, if you don’t want him to go off on his own.”
“Maybe you need to remember to whom you are speaking.” Grif snarled at the sword in Gryphic. “By my authority as the Avatar of the Divine Winds, I call you to be quiet. Be bound to silence until I release you.” The wind around him swirled, followed by the sword itself, creating a small vortex over its surface. The runes flared angrily at the binding, but as an object forged to serve the purpose of the Winds, it was forced to obey. With the berserker silenced, Grif turned his attention to Day Moon directly. “Day Moon, you need to find control. The beast needs your reason. Look at me. Think about your brothers, your sister. Would you want them to see this?”
Day Moon hissed again at the Gryphon, though his head began to droop, and his wings, though adapted to his changes, had begun to slow in their beats. The breathing was not one of anticipation, but the labored huffs of one who riddled with exhaustion. He bore his teeth in a snarl at the creature. He wanted to turn, to leave, but even now his wings ached. His eyes blinked slowly, heavily, as the burning gradually ebbed. He began to list lower, even as his sword guided his hooves toward the sheath. Though its runes still smoldered, it at least had enough sense to care for its master’s wellbeing and acknowledge the exhaustion this … transformation had imposed.
Grif approached Day Moon carefully, matching the foal wingbeat for wingbeat and height for height as they listed toward the cobblestone street. “I know it’s hard. I’ve faced a beast, myself. Lost myself to it, too. You need to trust me. We can overcome this,” he promised.
As Grif reached slowly toward the foal with a taloned hand, Day Moon broke away and powered toward one of the many eaves surrounding the crooked buildings. His tail whipped and wrapped itself around a sturdy beam, and the Thestral hung with folded wings. A last territorial hiss passed weakly from his lips before the rocking under the eaves finally pushed him over the edge into sleep.
Grif untied the colt’s tail gingerly from the beam and lifted Day Moon onto his back, then carefully made his way into one of the nearby buildings. It was best to let him sleep. He’d earned it.
Avalon smiled gratefully at the soldiers as they delivered a round of mana potion brewed freshly from Vital Spark and Zecora’s work station. The two shamans made a good team when it came to production time. She raised her glass in salute to the Pegasi that had delivered the potion and knocked it back. The brew was foul, but necessary to keep up their magic reserves for the barrier.
“Hey. Are you doing all right?”
A familiar set of talons rested on the Gryphoness’ shoulder as she turned to behold her sister wife. Shrial’s swords were bevelled with nicks and blunts as a result of their continual use. She and a few of the other more exceptional warriors had traded off with other units whose weapons had been imprinted with the new rune Hammer Strike had learned.
“We’re surviving,” Avalon said. “The mana potions are helping, and we take shifts to keep the barrier steady.”
“I never thought we’d be facing some of these things for real after all these years.”
“I hate to sound pessimistic, but evil always finds a way.”
Snowy cooed as she alighted on her mistress’ shoulder and preened some of Avalon’s feathers.
Shrial couldn’t help but smile. “So does love. And so does good. Grif is living proof of that. Even sealed, the Winds continue to watch over us.”
Avalon sighed. “I just hope his swords and his oath are enough. I worry about him, Shrial.”
“We would know if something had happened to him. We’re bound by blood, after all.”
Avalon shuddered. “That doesn’t make this any easier.”
“No, it doesn’t. But at least you don’t have to wait alone.”
“There is that.” Avalon smiled weakly, then tensed and hissed as the barriers began to contort again. “Better get those swords ready. We’ve got another one, and I’m not sure what it’s going to be.”
Shrial nodded. “Where?”
“Northeast sector.” Her focus seemed to vibrate in her hand. “Best move quickly. Even an artifact crafted from a divine being can’t hold these things back forever.”
Shrial took wing. “Just hold on, sister. We’ll be ready.” And with that said, she shot like an arrow toward the rapidly developing bulge in the barriers.
Grif had left Day Moon sleeping by a fire in the middle of a powerful protection circle he’d drawn. The colt was likely to be out for a while yet, so he decided to do some scouting.
He was almost annoyed to find the streets mostly clear, even as he made his way past random debris. Large pyres burned occasionally along his path.
He was about to turn and return to Day Moon when an unearthly scream caught him off guard. Turning, he found himself staring up at a creature who he assumed had once been a Pony. Gaunt and skeletal, the beast was easily three or four meters tall. It stood on four hooves with a body covered in ashen-gray skin and patches of fur that seemed to hang off it. The face was distorted with a muzzle more akin to a canine’s than a Pony’s and a mouth full of razor-sharp teeth.
Grif reached for his katana and just started to draw the blade when the beast seemed to explode in a shower of black blood and gore.
“Right outside the splash zone, too,” a familiar tone called out as Tarefson placed his collapsible crossbow in his coat. “What, not enough creatures in your neck of the woods, so you came over to mine?”
“Still making our way toward the center.” Grif shrugged. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”
“Like I said, I decided the best bit of fun I could have was hunting down the largest things in this area. Though with you two and that robot around, it’s been getting somewhat boring.”
“I’m sure Sombra will have some goodies for you once I start getting close.” Grif chuckled. “Is she with you?” Grif asked.
“Ah, right, I should introduce her.” Tarefson took a small step over to reveal a mare with long blond bangs that framed her muzzle. Her eyes were a rich blue that trembled like rippling pools. Her mane flowed and juted down her back in angular spikes, and her tail seemed to hold similar, albeit softer protrusions. Her fur was a rich honey gold that shone with life, an intriguing foil to the death and decay that surrounded her. Her guard uniform had been discarded in favor of scraps of leather and cloth that had been cobbled together for a makeshift set of gear. The barest hints of blood still matted some of her fur near her chest. “This … is Guard Filly, Guard Filly, this is … another individual who works for Hammer Strike. It’s a big circle. You’ll figure it out.”
“Grif Bladefeather,” Grif offered. “I’d offer you a hand, but i’m not sure if that would burn you or not.”
“Burn me?” She blinked for a moment, and then the lightbulb went off. “Oh, right. I’m … part vampire now.” She allowed her gaze to stray as her voice dropped into a subdued whisper. “Yay….”
“What enthusiasm.” Tarefson rolled his eyes. “Anyway, if you’re headed for the center, you’re probably gonna want to continue down that road.” He pointed over to the side.
“Yeah, I figured. Was just doing some scouting. Out of curiosity, how far have you cleared the area?” Grif asked.
“Not far enough.” He frowned. “But, it’s a learning experience. After all, it’s easier to teach about these creatures by blowing them to bits and looking at the corpse after.”
“Fair enough.” Grif chuckled. “Anything actually give you trouble?”
“Most of these things are a bit too young to prove a challenge,” he replied simply. “Though they make perfect practice for Guard Filly here.”
“Best get her prepared now, right?” Grif laughed. “Any information you think I need to know?”
“My name is Angelica Victry. Is it really that hard to remember?” she asked.
“Well, that's good to know…. Not exactly need-to-know.” Grif chuckled.
“Oi, now don’t you start!”
“Anyway,” Tarefson cut in, “in terms of things you need to know, I think you have the general gist of things. Large creatures, ninety-eight percent of them are bad. Kill on sight, the usual order that Hammer Strike gave everyone.”
“You're having way too much fun with this. You know that, right?” Grif asked.
“I’ve been stuck on the sidelines for the last thousand years, give or take a few hundred. At least let me enjoy myself every now and then.”
“Well, I’d better get back and find my partner. You two keep up the bloodbath.”
Tarefson grinned. “That’s easy enough. You have fun with that. Come along, Guard Filly, we’ve got more creature's to kill.”
Grif gave a chuckle and he turned back the way he came. It was time to check on Day Moon.
“You doing okay?” Grif asked as he and Day Moon made their way down the cobblestone street. It had been four hours since Day Moon’s display. When he woke up, they had eaten and moved forward, saying very little. Grif was attempting to break the silence.
“I think so. I … it feels more like a dream, but I remember so much. It’s … it’s almost like a nightmare, but … not quite?”
Grif nodded. “It’s not easy the first time you face down the beast. I’ve faced my own more than once.”
The colt frowned. “Does it stay hard?”
“It takes time,” Grif admitted. “Eventually, though, you start learning how to stop fighting with it and start having it fight with you.”
“Fight with yo—”
All sound around Grif winked out in that moment, casting an eerie silence that left him with only the thunder of his own blood racing in his eardrums. He looked to Day Moon, only to find an unmoving colt frozen in time. When he scanned the area, he noticed several things had changed. The sky was darker than it had been a moment ago as bits and pieces of buildings and roads floated haphazardly. The road they’d been walking on now ended only a few steps ahead of them. Some monstrous whale-like creature swam quietly past them.
“In most circumstances, this meeting wouldn’t have taken place, you know,” an ethereal voice called out as the Outsider took shape from the shadows around them. “But, I can’t deny my curiosity having taken a role in it.”
Grif looked at the Pony before him, trying to place where he’d seen him before. “I recognize your face, but I’m not getting a name.”
“Unsurprising, considering you watched over events within the TARDIS.” He gave the briefest of shrugs. “Though you may have seen me, you most definitely did not know me, nor would you now, even if you did then. I am called the Outsider, a … type of embodiment, if you must place a rank to it.”
“I’d be more worried, but I feel if you wanted us dead, you wouldn’t have stopped to talk to me,” Grif noted. “And I’m guessing you know me already.”
“From your beginning to now. I may not deal with the world directly, but you can find the occasional reference or mark left in places where I found interest.” He paced around Grif. “You’re going up against something quite peculiar, not meant for this world.”
“I made an oath.” Grif shrugged. “I’ll kill whatever gets between me and Sombra, no matter what it takes.”
“Indeed.” the Outsider gave a small smirk. “I’m sure you’ll see to it. Though I advise you make sure you aren’t in over your head. You’re going to face something that will push past those limits you set for yourself. So, it would be in your best interest to not let your limits get in the way.”
“You're telling me to push past my limits?” Grif asked with a smirk. “What was that, the most cliched line you had?”
“Please. There are hundreds more written all around the world, and at least twenty that came to your mind.” The Outsider shook his head. “I’m simply giving you a warning, and nothing more. I want to see the reason why it’s you in here, and not Hammer Strike. He’s not exactly one to let others handle issues in the world.”
“Depends on the issues. He knows when it’s not his fight.”
“I’ve seen him face off against threats that were definitely not his fight. That doesn’t matter. He’d throw himself into danger time and time again, even if he knew he’d fail. This, in particular, is something he’s quite familiar with. And the mark I gave him would hide him from the creatures who watch from outside.” Outsider stopped and turned toward Grif. “That is why I’m here. I want to see the reason he has this much faith in your abilities against a threat of this nature.”
“He trusts me.” Grif shrugged. “Is that so hard to take?”
“He’s trusted many, even that wife of his, Clover. Yet he wouldn’t let her dare take a risk of similar nature.”
“Well, I don’t know what to tell you.” Grif shrugged. “No man’s an island?”
“We’ll see.” Outsider gave a small smirk. “Do your best. I’ll be watching.”
“—u? Like how you and Ping fight? Or something else?” Daymoon’s voice pierced through the veil of silence, drawing Grif’s gaze away from his target. The colt had no idea what had just transpired.
Grif looked around, the area having been returned to normal. He examined the paved road and the perfectly stationary buildings. “Uh, kind of,” he said, still a bit dazed.
“What’s wrong?” Day Moon’s wings flared nervously. “Did we get attacked? Was I locked in a time loop or something? Less than a second ago, you were fine, but now you’re not.”
“Uh nothing. It’s nothing,” Grif assured. “Just … thought I saw something. Really, it was nothing.”
Day Moon didn’t fully buy the fib, but the foal remained silent and dropped the issue for the moment, choosing instead to return to their original line of discussion. “So, what’s it like, fighting with the beast?”
“Well…” Grif started.
“Low to the ground,” Grif whispered to Day Moon as he settled in the grass staring straight ahead at his target. “Let the beast feel it out, the scents, the sounds. Don’t fight against it. Just guide it to what you want.” He dug his talons into the ground as he felt the old familiar feeling well up, the growling in the back of his mind. “When you feel the time is right, strike.” He waited, one breath, two, seven, and then it was there. The prey looked away, and Grif pounced, closing the gap between them in seconds. He locked his beak around the chupacabra’s exposed throat and bit down, letting his sharp teeth grip into the beast's flesh. He ripped his head back to the sound of a high-pitched whine, and then a quiet gurgle as the creature bled out. He spat the mixture of flesh and blood from his mouth to the ground, then looked to see if Day Moon had managed to accomplish his own kill.
A great yelp tore through the air as Day Moon leaped back from his target. The chupacabra had gone limp in one of its hind legs, and blood flowed freely from one of its calves. Day Moon had neatly hamstrung it. He let the beast exhaust itself, then took out its other hind leg. And with that out of the way, it left only the kill. Rather than the back, Day Moon struck from beneath and bit hard on the creature’s windpipe and jugular. A shower of blood was the beast’s reward as Day Moon’s prey went down. Day Moon promptly spit the flesh out and nearly gagged.
“That was disgusting.”
“Unfortunately,” Grif agreed. “And no matter what, never let the beast make you consume any of the flesh of monsters,” Grif warned.
“Not that I think I—he—we(?) would want to, but what would happen if we did?”
“Monster flesh carries a taint to it. Some of them, it’s a slow death. Others, it’s corruption. Either way, it’s not something easily undone.”
“So, are we supposed to wash our mouths out, too, then?” Day Moon spat again to help clear more of the blood from his mouth.
Grif nodded, taking a mouthful from his canteen and washing his mouth. “Still, it’s the best way to learn to work with the beast.”
“I … guess the next question I should ask is how much of a beast can I become? I mean, things change when I do that. Is there a chance they could change more?”
“That, I can’t tell you.” Grif sighed. “Your beast isn’t the same as mine.”
“I guess I’ll have to ask about it when we get back.” Day Moon frowned. “I hope someone can give me some answers.”
“Starting to feel better?” Grif asked.
“Not really, but that’s more because I still don’t know enough. I won’t be going crazy again. At least, I don’t think I will. But yes, I wish i knew more about all of this.” He frowned and looked to his sword. “Do you think Shadowsbane might know something? He’s been awfully quiet, even for him.”
“Oh!” Grif realized his mistake and looked to the blade. “I release you from your binds.”
A small burst of wind ruffled Day Moon’s fur and ear tufts. Then a great gasp grated through the air. “Finally. Honestly, Master Grif, that was simply too harsh. I do apologize for my, ahem, episode, but did you really have to seal me?”
Day Moon raised a curious brow. “Seal?”
“Shadowsbane can lose his head during combat if properly motivated,” Grif explained. “I decided he needed a timeout while I worked on helping you overcome this.”
“I was forged for battleborn, like Master Grif,” the sword explained. “You had a similar trait, which is why I was able to bond with you as my current master and partner, Master Day Moon.”
Day Moon rolled his eyes. “Do you always have to call me Master?”
“Of course. It’s only proper, after all.” The sword trembled in its sheath. “I shudder to think what my … other half might call you.”
Day Moon raised a skeptical brow. “Is he serious, Grif?”
“Yes.” Grif sighed. “I was honestly unsure about letting you take the blade. It has a very … controversial history.”
“Any chance you can tell me about it while we hunt?”
“Well, this sword has had more wielders than the rest of the set combined,” Grif explained. “The problem with being a blade made for berserkers is berserkers generally don’t live long on a battlefield.”
“You do,” Day Moon pointed out.
“I have certain advantages.” Grif chuckled. “And I only lose my head when things get really bad.”
“So, where does that leave us?” Day Moon asked as he motioned toward Shadowsbane.
“In need of a lot of training.” Grif chuckled. “Feeling better yet?”
“I think I’ll wait to answer that till after we finish the hunt.”
“All right.” Grif nodded. “Well, let’s get moving. Got the scent yet?”
“The sulfur, the decay, or the one that raises my hackles?”
“I think you know the answer.” Grif chuckled as they headed off.
Grif panted as he buried his swords in the ground. Around him, zombies, wights, cruels, ghasts, and ghouls crumpled in heaps, their bodies neatly dismembered and properly disposed of. “We must be getting close. Their numbers are getting thicker and thicker.”
Day Moon nodded grimly. “Are you sure you’re going to be able to face him like this? You’ve been pushing yourself really hard.”
“I can fight for days, if needed.” Grif chuckled as he pulled out a potion and popped the top before drinking it in one pull. “Besides, the finish is in view.”
“You mean you see him?” Day Moon’s head whipped around sharply as he brandished Shadowsbane.
Grif pointed up ahead. “Not quite.” in the distance, Day Moon could see tendrils of black smoke shooting up somewhere to the top of the dome. “Has to be the point it’s being generated.” Grif reached into his bag and pulled out a long cylindrical object. He tied it to a bolt and tied a cord around the top. Holding onto the line, he fired it into the sky. The line tightened and the head popped away. A hard red light lit up the night sky above them.
“Did you just give away our position?”
“Yes. The question you should be considering is to who.”
“You know, if it weren’t for the fact I was close by, I probably would have ignored this,” Tarefson commented as he drew near with Angelica Victry following close by.
“I figured you might want in on this.” Grif chuckled. “They’re coming in forties and fifties now.”
“Ooh, a present? For me?” Tarefson smiled. “And we’ve only just met.”
“Yeah, yeah. Go have some fun. Unleash the dogs of hell or whatever.”
“They haven’t been on a walk in some time now,” Tarefson muttered in thought.
“What?”
“Huh?” Tarefson returned.
“You know what? Nevermind.” Grif shook his head. “You draw as many as you can to you, we’re gonna charge ahead and break through. If you think you can handle it?”
Tarefson turned toward Angelica. “Guard Filly, you’re probably going to want to get back. Like, a mile or so back.”
“Day Moon, let's go. I don’t think you're old enough to see this. Hell, I don’t feel old enough to see what's about to happen,” Grif said.
“So, … you’re saying you need an adult?”
“Har, har. Come on, slowpoke.” Grif rolled his eyes and took off at a bound.
Day Moon followed close behind, being careful to keep his gaze on his mentor and far away from the vampire behind them.
As they made their way at a charge, the screaming started. Grif gripped Day Moon’s head and gently turned it back forward. “Let’s not look,” he said as he stared in the colt’s eyes and carefully turned him around to stand in front to face the great funnel generating the dome. A few nudges, and they were on their way.
“Onward.” Grif sighed. “To the belly of the beast.”
An hour later, after a lot of long hard fights, the two finally found themselves approaching their target. The wind felt wrong to Grif, perverse and acrid, as it whipped around the area where the mist was generated. The stones around them were especially dark, marked with speckles of blood and black ichor. Symbols had been painted and etched around them as the dark magic worked to accomplish its master’s whims. Grif sighed with relief when he saw the gate. It was still only a tear. It wasn’t stable yet. That meant it could still be destroyed without much issue.
A cloaked figure stood before it, chanting and mumbling in a dark tongue that was almost cliche; too cliche, a small voice in Grif’s head seemed to shout.
“It’s not right,” Grif whispered.
“I don’t smell a Pony,” Day Moon agreed.
“Hey, Sombrero!” Grif called. “Too cowardly to face me directly?”
“My name is King Sombra!” The pony turned to them. “And you should learn to respect it, you overstuffed feather duster.”
“Yeah, yeah. Whatever you say, Sambuca,” Grif responded. “So, if you’re not actually here, then there isn’t anything stopping me from closing the door behind you.” He drew his swords. “So, why don’t you just cut to the chase and tell me what the trap is. Or is little sangrita such a coward he couldn’t even do that?”
“Sang? That's not even trying, you—!” Sombra cut himself off to calm himself. “Well, I can see there is no fooling you, so yes, of course I didn't leave this portal unguarded. In fact, my friends sent along something I’m sure will get you out of my mane once and for all.” Sombra’s horn lit up in bright red as in front of Grif and Day Moon, black tar-like liquid bubbled up from beneath the stone to form a perfect circle with a twenty foot circumference ending just at Grif’s feet. It bubbled and boiled for a few seconds before a massive webbed hand reached from the depths, followed by another. And then, slowly, the beast began to emerge.
It had a round fishlike head, it’s back was covered in large spines connected by a thin razor film. The deep one opened its mouth, showing off thousands of spinelike teeth and gave a horrifying screech. Pulling itself fully to the surface, it stood before them at twenty feet tall. Its webbed hands ended in razor spikes. It’s body was a sickly green color, its orange lidless eyes grotesque with a thousand yard stare. It released a string of words in a tongue Grif could not understand and had no wish to learn, but two words stuck out to him: Pappa Dagon.
“Now I will be free of you! Creature, destroy them!” Sombra laughed as his projection faded into the ether.
Day Moon tensed and drew his sword as he growled and bared his teeth.
“Well, now.” Grif chuckled awkwardly. “This is going to be interesting. Uh, try not to get hit,” Grif cautioned.
The colt nodded. “A standoff, then?”
“This is a little more than your average beast. Just—” He was cut off as he rushed at the colt, knocking him out of the way just as claws scythed the air. “How did it move that fast?” Grif commented. He had barely made it moving at a full sprint. This was not something the colt was ready for. “Day Moon, back off,” Grif ordered as he charged. He managed to leave a few shallow cuts on the creature’s leg before it buffeted him away. He hit a nearby tree with a painful impact.
“Grif!” Day Moon cried as the tree splintered. The creature turned its head to face him and gazed with its massive orange eyes while its mouth widened in an appalling pantomime of a grin.
The beast charged, and Grif raced as fast as his gifts would carry him. He paid no mind to the screams of pain in his effort to get between the two in time. He needed more speed. He needed more power. This wasn’t going to be enough. He wasn’t enough with all his abilities. He couldn’t handle this alone.
And Day Moon didn’t have a thaumic field to keep him alive.
More power?
Grif shut his eyes tight. His lungs burned, trying to shut it out. He needed to focus. He needed to get to Day Moon. He couldn’t let the colt die. He’d promised. Prophecy demanded it. The Winds demanded it!
Come, Avatar. Are you not our speaker? The voice dripped like oil in his mind and clung like tar. It reminded him, in a way, of the beast he had made peace with, and yet this was not that beast. The beast was but a fragment, a drop. This presence was an ocean. Why must you shut us out? Are we not also divine? A wind who blows upon the face of the land? Are we not also worthy of your respect?
Not now! Grif pushed mentaly. There was no time. Day Moon—
Poor misguided cub. What is time to death? We can make you faster. We can make you far more than you already are. Come, you who would free us. Come, and let us chat. We have much to discuss.
And almost instantly, Grif felt himself frozen. The world around him was consumed in a darkness far deeper than anything Sombra had conjured. There was no sound here, only a dreadful stillness and a terrible cold. It pushed at his skin and chilled him, but seemed unable to go past the skin. Once again, he found himself standing before the altar from his dreams, the same haunting vision that had plagued him so many times since he acquired the tablet. The great stone dais rose before him. Black chains wrapped around stone pillars and stretched to the center, where layer after layer curled and wrapped at the center in a massive knot that now seemed to pulse and throb before him like a black and withered heart.
“Well, you have me here,” Grif growled icily. He finally found himself able to move again, and took advantage of that ability by turning his head to glare at the prison. “What do you want with me?”
The mass throbbed as the voice rebounded through the prison, a whisper, a sigh, a roar, a cry. There was much pain behind the rush of voices, yet also a quiet joy in those silent portions. Was this anticipation or something else that motivated the modulations? What was the source of this discord?
Grif drew closer still. Now, he stood before deity. Now, he awaited to hear the demands of the entity that was both captor and captive, deity and defiler, a living confliction, a paradox in a way. And like the universe, Grif abhorred such things.
The voices surged again. So many fragments. So much clamor. “We wish you to fulfill your destiny. Does the prophecy say you will free only our siblings, bound as they are? Does it not simply claim you will free the gods? Are we not also a god?” it asked.
“You are a devil. You slaughtered innocents.” Grif bared his teeth in a snarl. “Their bonds are cruel. Yours are just!”
“Are they?” the voices roared as the chains surged and buckled with the god’s emotion. And then, like a firecracker, the force died. The chains crumpled in on themselves as the ball shrunk. The husky voices that spoke were torn by the sobs of the grief-stricken and the mourning. “Was it not our children that died? Was it not our flesh and blood we saw vanish to never return?” A great drawing in of breath not unlike the pull of a breathing cave signalled the fallen god’s attempt to calm itself. “We grieve our children. And for that, we are eternally bound?”
“There’s no time for this,” Grif snapped. “I have a creature I can't defeat that’s about to kill a colt I put in danger.”
“We know this well, Grif Grafson. A great Fate has worked upon you, as it has your allies. Such strings have a tendency to entangle. But if you would preserve the thread that binds you to your charge, then you will require assistance. We can aid you. We can give you what you need. Power, speed, strength. All that you require, we can provide, for such a small thing,” it said. “A very small thing, indeed.”
“What small thing?” Grif snarled. “My life? My allegiance against the Winds I swore to save? I will not betray them!”
Power surged as a great gale boomed through the space, pushing Grif back, despite how his talons dug into the surface beneath him. “You forget yourself, Avatar!” It was the Black Gale’s turn to snap now. “Remember to whom you speak! Those you owe your allegiance to are our family. Do you dare to think that we have not wept at their absence? Do you think we feel no pain at them being beyond even our grasp, beyond even our aid to help?”
Yes, there was much anger in that cascade of voices, much rage. But to Grif’s astonishment, there was also sincere pain, an anger born of grief, and a distant longing. It unconsciously made him think of his wives and children, a longing and a worry that he felt in his own heart every time he had to leave them.
And like the passing of a sudden squall, the space calmed again, and the voices spoke with a tired exhaustion that only the truly bereft could understand, those who had plunged into depths of grief so deep that it sapped the very strength and will from their being. “We have withered,” the voices continued with a barely audible sigh that seemed almost to crack with the weight of years. “Our grasp on ourself is slipping. We know not our name, nor our form.” Grif actually heard it sob. “We remember so little, only our children's warmth and the prophecies of the times. Even to break these chains would not be enough, or we would have simply escaped after our siblings left. We need a being, a form, a name, something to decide us, restore us to be more than we are. Please,” the voice pleaded, and the weight of millions of desperate voices cried with it. “Or we will vanish into the nothingness, prophecy will fail, and … and we will never see our siblings again. We … do not wish to pass without seeing them one last time.”
Grif stayed quiet for a long time. He thought on what the god before him had said. He shivered at the concept of forgetting oneself into oblivion. Part of himself wept at its pain, its story, the loss of its family. But trust? Trust was not something he could so freely give, not even to a creature that had made itself so unrecognizable as to be pitiable. No, this would require something far stronger and binding than words.
“First, I want a contract,” he finally said.
“And your terms?” A small flicker of hope crept into the tired voice. Hope, and anticipation.
“First, I need to know. How can you help me?”
“We can make you beyond death it—”
“No!” The darkness rippled, as if recoiling from the sheer will that one word had invoked. Grif shook his head. “I have no fear of my end, be it earlier or later. I will face it and welcome it with open arms.”
“Power, then,” the god said. “We could elevate your authority.”
Again, Grif shook his head. Again, the room rippled at his response. “No. I don’t seek high authority.”
The god that had fallen to become the dreaded Black Gale was quiet for a while. Its chains wrapped and clattered as they pulled against each other. “Perhaps, then, … the right of the einherjer? That gift has not been granted since before we were sealed away.”
“What's that entail?” Grif asked. Taze had heard the word before, but had no idea how such a thing could be offered.
“First, we will open your divine core, or activate your divine seed as some mortals call it. The power that does not go into improving your body will instead flow to a guardian spirit to grant them a physical body that is powered and nourished by a small amount of your own life force. This gift is often given to warriors as a means of returning to service in honorable combat. It will be as though they were resurrected. And should they fall in battle again, they will rise anew in time, so long as you yourself survive. An einherjar requires neither food nor water, though they may partake as they will. However, to seal this creation, they will need an item or token to anchor them to you, something that will serve as the connection to the land of the living and ensure they do not stray far from it or you.”
A spark of hope leaped in Grif’s chest at that dizzying prospect. Could it be true? Could it really be that simple? “Whom may I call?”
“Any one person within our power. If you so desire it, you need only list the attributes you seek, and we shall provide a number to choose from. But you must choose wisely, Grif Grafson. Once decided, the einherjar will be bound with you to the end of your days.”
“Very well.” Grif nodded. “I find this option suitable, and I know whom I will choose. But know this. I will also be adding to you. I want to leave you unable to do as you’ve done before. History must not repeat itself.”
“You would dare presume to—?” it began.
“I do dare. I am the Avatar of Winds. And I won’t allow you to kill again. Not like that,” Grif shot back.
The chamber was silent for a long time before the deity acquiesced with a sigh. “Very well. But not too much,” it stressed.
Grif nodded. “You have my word. Now it’s time you also had your name. By the authority of the Winds and by these sacred blades.” He unsheathed Vigilance and Vengeance. Both swords glowed fiercely as he approached. With two chops, he severed the chains. He let the blades fall to the floor, then grasped several links of chain in each hand. The bindings trembled with the deity’s excitement, and Grif could feel, even as the fallen Wind had said. There was little power beneath those chains anymore.
“I hereby release you from your bonds. I name you Female. I name you Therra the Mother. I name you Thea the Mourner. I name you Thana the Seer.” The chains began to glow white-hot in his talons as he spoke. The heat traveled down the lines, and soon the entire knot gleamed like the sun as specks of starlight began to shine far off in the dark void, the scattered fragments of the deity that had once been whole. “I return to you the beauty of life and death and the eternal dance. From first breath to last, you will observe every life beneath your wings and cherish it as your own cub. You will laugh at their joys, cry at their tragedies. And when they come to the gate, you will judge them fairly. Be incorruptible in your judgement and honest in your sight. I return to you the book of life and the sight to see what is to come. Every prophet or prophetess born, once again, shall be your child. I assign you the stork and the vulture as your mark. I do all this as the Avatar of the Winds, and as their herald, as your herald, now.” Grif yanked back on the chains. “Awaken, goddess Therra!” And with a massive burst of power, the chains shattered.
The stars shone with searing light as cracks groaned and stretched in jagged lines between those beacons, then grew brighter, and finally streaked forward with such intensity that the darkness was shattered and fell away like so many pieces of broken glass. The lights flooded into the orb at its center with the peaceful rattle that leaves the body when its life has been spent and the joyful surge of the first breath of life. Radiant incandescence exposed the platform. Four mighty pillars shone brightly and took on the familiar shape of the columns of Greece. Green tendrils curled and arced along the surface, spreading rapidly and filling the air with a beautiful perfume as flowers blossomed and the once-dead silence was filled with a radiant song. The beating of vast wings assaulted Grif’s ears as golden veins pulsed in time with the foliage and surged along the floor, purging the crackled black surface of ancient blood in favor of beautiful white marble that spread in ripples from the divine source that hovered above it.
In due course, the ball of energy compacted, revealing more of the massive wings, followed by four great paws, and finally the head of a gorgeous lioness wreathed in a golden astral mane that floated in the air before gradually settling along her back and neck. Her tail lashed behind her and shone with the brilliant and fierce shine of a newborn star. Her fur was a slightly darker shade than her mane. A beautiful white robe settled over her frame as the remainder of her power took its form. Beautiful highlights as vivid and varied as a nebula’s gasses swirled and spread through her mane’s hairs, the symbol of the infinite womb of life, while the vastness of space and the light of the stars swirled within her eyes. One moment, it was a starry band, the next, two great galaxies, ever changing, ever growing, ever expanding, as if all the heavens were contained therein. And indeed, perhaps they were, for a mother of life must behold all life and love all life, even as she must accept the death that is life’s twin. The immensity of the new deity’s presence, both physical and magical, would have destroyed Grif, were it not for the events to follow.
Grif gave her a respectful bow. “Lady Therra.”
“Rise, Avatar of Winds.” Gone were the many. Only one sound remained of that divisive cacophony. The voice was at once gentle and overbearing with the newborn might of the godess’s divine presence. She smiled gently as Vigilance and Vengeance hovered in the grip of her magic, then slowly levitated toward their master. “You have done well, and though I was a poor mother to you in times past, as all children do, you have taught me a lesson that I had forgotten long ago in my grief. Rise, dear child, and take up your swords again. The pact has yet to be completed, and the child of an elder goddess stands on the brink of death. This cannot be allowed. Not yet.”
“So, how do we do this?” Grif asked as he took the blades and sheathed them. “I mean, I’ve never heard of a divine seed being forced open.”
The goddess smiled. “Who said anything about force?” She tapped a claw gently and playfully on the Gryphon’s head. “You named me, Grif. You restored me to my form and purpose. And with that restoration will come a portion of the power that your predecessor never had the chance to wield. You will.” She turned her massive paw over to reveal a projection of a white pod. “A seed is a living thing. It represents the potential of infancy. And when it is ready, it sprouts and grows.” The surface of the projection cracked open as silvery tendrils extended and swirled, then thrust upward. “Giving birth to something new. How that seed grows is up to its tender. But as the mother, my power will prove sufficient to begin that process. You will not be a god, my son, but you will become something more than you are. And for now, that is what you need.” She closed her paw, and the projection faded. “How your seed grows after, and what it ultimately becomes, will be up to you.”
“Very well.” Grif nodded. “Do it, then.”
“So be it. With this pact, let the twilight of the gods begin, and let their arbiter lay claim to his power and this divine boon, in accordance with our contract.” Therra spread her wings wide and the air became thick with shimmering lights as her divine aura expanded over the space. These specks sifted and fell in time, like snow, gradually touching and absorbing into the Gryphon’s form while others hovered patiently in the air about him. “I am the child of adversity. I am what comes when the floods recede. I am the rise and I am the fall of generations great and small. Cut me down and I am stronger. I mark the years becoming longer. In man, in beast, in plant and seed, though I may change, I’ll always be. What am I?”
“Growth?” Grif asked uncertainly.
Therra smiled. “Correct.” Like a legion of arrows, the pricks that had once hovered and sifted around Grif lunged at him all at once. The energy thrust itself into his magical field, surging into every pore, every outlet, every fiber of his being. A flurry of fear rose as his breathing caught. The memory of his torture, the vacuum, the cutting, the cracking, the shattering as his very being was torn asunder under the assault in that terrible chamber at the hands of the evokers. It all came back with overwhelming clarity. Fear surged as his field fluctuated, bent, and heaved under the influx. And though he did not lose consciousness this time, he did feel that power balling into a tight knot that grew hotter, hotter, hotter still, until he finally felt something give. The cold was rent apart by the explosion of power that dug into the flood like the hungry roots of a sapling.
“Death comes on swift wings, Grif,” the goddess said as the world was consumed this time, not by darkness, but with light. “Show that abomination just how swift.”
In Ponyville, the great shield that had been mounted in honor of the brave Gryphon who sacrificed himself stood gleaming. Massive and daunting to all but the largest Gryphons who looked upon it, it was often asked how anyone could use such a shield in combat. The few Gryphons who’d stayed at the compound to look after young ones or other such reasons were given a startling sight as the large shield shook and shuddered. The base it had been mounted to broke as the shield rose into the air and spun before vanishing.
Grif found himself back where everything had started, dashing to try and save Day Moon. Even as he propelled his body faster than he ever had before, it still wasn’t enough. Divine power surged within his flesh as wind parted and swirled around him. It needed a vent, but he couldn’t yet. He had to save Day Moon. He had to stop this abomination. He needed help. He needed an ally. He needed someone he knew could save the foal. He reached out desperately with his talons. Only one word came to him; a name. A name and a face that had haunted his dreams for longer than he cared to remember.
“KEL—!”
Power erupted from Grif in a mighty surge as a bright flash filled the air in front of Day Moon. Moments later, the biggest tower shield the Thestral colt had ever laid eyes on appeared before him. It was large and square and banded with thick pieces of brass. The metal appeared as though it had been polished by a god, so bright was it in the night. Day Moon found himself having to look away, because of its radiance. But he heard the solid clang as the beast's massive fist impacted the shield, only to stop cold in its tracks. In front of Day Moon, something or someone let out a growl as they pushed against the blow.
“Honestly, Grif, why do you always have to be so stubborn? I’ve been trying to get you to talk with her for months. You’re almost as good at ignoring her as you are me.”
Grif looked upon the Gryphon, slowing his time perception as much as he could to take in the sight. Kel’leam was as tall as Grif remembered him, a towering mix of albatross and liger. He was dressed in thick plate mail of polished brightsteel lined with celestial bronze. His left shoulder was pressed against the shield's base. On his back, a massive spear lay in wait. Its head was furnished with double barbs on the back. The head itself was thin, but lethaly pointed.
Returning to regular time, Grif threw himself upon the beast from behind, slashing with Vigilance and Vengeance in rapid blows. The first dozen were clumsy as he adjusted to his body's new capabilities. Suddenly, the creature's speed, which had been so much greater beforel, seemed weighted and clumsy. Every blow it sent Grif’s way was easily dodged, and Kel’leams iron defence kept the blows off of Day Moon as the colt rained his own attacks on it.
Grif growled. “It’s not doing anything. We’re just giving it paper cuts!”
“I was made for dark magic, not this creature’s kin!” Shadowsbane warned.
Day Moon frowned as he looked at the creature towering over the shield. “Something’s got to weaken it. Poison, frost, elemental? It can’t be immune to everything!”
“Keep it busy,” Grif said as he looked over the creature. “I’ll go for the eyes.”
“Easier said than done,” Kel’leam grunted. “Is that all you’ve got, you overgrown fish?” he cast at the creature. “I eat your cousins for dinner!”
“Can you keep Day Moon alive?” Grif asked Kel’leam.
“Of course I can. I’m not that rusty.”
“Day Moon, use the bolts with the syringe filled with yellow liquid. And whatever you do, be careful. That stuff will eat through anything.”
Day Moon nodded and prepped his crossbow. “How am I supposed to get a clear shot, though? This thing can move as fast as you, can’t it?”
“Do your best.” Grif closed his eyes and concentrated. “Brindle,” he said forcefully. With the loud screech of metal on metal, his tail blade unsheathed. Unseen by Grif, the weapon had changed from a simple light curved blade to stark spike-like tip of a triblade that twisted like a corkscrew, waiting to drill into the enemy.
“Mister Kel’leam, can you hold that thing in place?” Day Moon asked.
“The most I can do is defend. If you intend to strike, then you’ll need to figure out a way to do so without compromising my defense.”
Day Moon frowned, then nodded. He prepared his second crossbow with a dart, then launched the first high into the air. The creature laughed its growling burble as it thrust forward again, pushing Kel’leam’s bulky frame ever so slightly as his claws carved ridges into the stone itself. The glint of the needle plunged, and Day Moon fixed his gaze on the target as it fell. The dart shot. Crystal shattered. The yellow substance spattered onto the ground with a hiss as it bubbled and ate into the stones. The creature, however, was not there to experience the acid’s corrosive effects. It stood a few feet away and stared with a burning intensity. The grin it had sported before was replaced by a wicked snarl.
Taking the distraction, Grif darted up behind the beast, moving quickly through the air and along the back of its neck. His tail darted with a well-practiced trust, thanks to the time he’d spent practicing in the TARDIS. The blade stabbed and corkscrewed into the deep one’s large rounded eye. A shower of eye jelly spurted and oozed with blood, and Grif felt an interesting sensation as a small trickle of power flowed from him into the weapon and then into the creature. Immediately, the eye began to darken and shrink. The skin around it dried up and began to rot. The beast screamed in pain, and Grif tore the blade from its eye. This was when he finally noticed the change that had come over Gandalfi’s weapon.
“What the?” Grif grabbed his tail to examine the new blade, and then released it seconds later, realizing that now wasn’t the time. He watched as the rot spread for a bit before finally ending. Seemingly, the creature’s own regenerative capabilities weren’t enough to repair the damage quickly, and with this knowledge came inspiration. “Day Moon, Kel’leam, get its attention and keep it. I have an idea.”
The creature had turned itself on Grif now and hissed angrily.
“How are we supposed to do that?” Day Moon asked.
Kel’leam smirked as his spear darted out with expert skill to sink a blow in the small of the creature’s back near its spinal column. “That’s how.”
Grif flew as quickly as he could. His eyes scavenged the ground below for his target, and finally, he came to the first of several bonfires he’d noted on their way in. Concentrating, he got within range of the fire and began pulling the aspect toward himself with his talons extended outward. He watched as the first beneath him slowly began to lessen. When it was just embers, he moved to the next one as fast as he could. He gathered as much fire aspect as possible and carried the large red crystal under an arm, then returned on swift wings to survey the condition of his friend and his protege.
Kel’leam and Day Moon had both taken to the air and worked to harry the deep one from above, each taking their turn to fire from above or divebomb the creature. The ground hissed and bubbled, and the creature’s webbed feet blistered as they worked to repair themselves against the corrosive effects of the acid that now coated so much of the square around it.
Grif flew to the lump-like upper back of the beast and impaled it yet again with his tail blade. It howled in pain as the rot spread rapidly, thrashing and swiping to get rid of it’s enemy, but Grif held on. Its talons dug in as he pushed power through his tail blade. The flesh beneath gave way to muscle and bone, which soon also rotted. A large hole developed that teemed with black ichor. Grif took the red stone and pushed with everything he had until it was firmly inside the slowly healing flesh. Already, he could see it beginning to knit around the crystal. Grif backed off the beast as it turned to swipe at him. Carefully, Grif led it in an elaborate dance of attacks and dodges, doing his best to keep its anger and attention on him and not the area.
“Come on, ugly. Almost there,” he said as he alighted on the ground. The beast lifted a giant webbed foot and stomped into the ground, cracking the stone beneath in an attempt to kill it’s enemy. Grif appeared yards away and watched as the beast struggled to draw it’s foot from the ground, only a few feet away from the tear that had almost stabilized into a portal.
“RUN!” Grif yelled to the others. And then he detonated the thaumic crystal, releasing the compressed destructive energy as quickly as it would go, even as he took to the air in the opposite direction. Behind them, the square, the beast, and everything in a fifty foot radius simply ceased to be as it was ripped to shreds at a nigh-incomprehensible level.
As they landed a fair distance away, the cone at the center dissipated, its source having been destroyed. The mist that created Sombra’s dome dispersed quickly, starting with the center of the top and moving downward. Unearthly screams and shrieks rose around them as sunlight slowly began to stream through the town. The beautiful bright light descended with a cleansing warmth, signifying the work was finished. High in the air overhead, a golden weave of threads pulsed concurrently with the bright energy of another dome above it. Both slowly parted to allow the free air to flow in and clear out the rest of the stench and decay in favor of the fresh smells of life and the sounds of uncorrupted nature.
“And this, Day Moon, this is the payoff.” Grif chuckled as they rose on the thermals to gaze over the gathering outside. The Ganthrithor hovered and hummed in place while Unicorns and Gryphons slowly dispersed from their various placements in the array or collapsed on the spot from sheer exhaustion. Thestrals and Gryphons both cheered and saluted respectively toward the heroes.
“Um, Grif, is there a way to turn this thing off?” Day Moon asked as he worked his jaw and fiddled with his fangs with a free hoof.
“Master Day Moon, don’t play with your teeth. Honestly, those hooves have to handle me, after all,” Shadowsbane complained.
“You’re talking normal again,” Day Moon noted with some surprise.
“Really, Master, that is rather rude. Simply because I happen to get a little drunk on the battlefield doesn’t make me abnormal,” the sword replied, even as the shaggy fur began to recede and the foal’s maw and teeth shrank slowly back to normal. The foal shuddered briefly at the sensation, but showed little abnormalities other than a slightly increased bulk.
“When we touch down, I need to give you a proper cleaning,” Day Moon said.
“That would be appreciated, young master.”
The trio touched down a few moments later on the Ganthrithor’s deck. The crew that remained parted for Hammer Strike while a low murmur passed through the assembled Gryphon crew. They eyed Kel’leam warily, uncertain of what they were seeing.
“Quite the show you put on,” the Earth Pony remarked as he drew near.
“Yeah well, I did what I thought was necessary,” Grif said. “I’m not apologizing.”
“I didn’t expect you to.” He raised a brow. “You did what was needed. Creatures of that nature are … different in their forms of operation.”
“I also might have resurrected a goddess,” Grif said.
“Trust me, I noticed that part as well. Kinda hard to miss,” Hammer Strike replied flatly. “That potentially spread quite far. Also,” he directed his attention to Day Moon. “That sword. Would you mind letting me see it for a moment?”
Day Moon nodded. “Just give me a minute.” Once more, he removed the cloth and ran it over the sword to clean it as best he could. He sighed at the few streaks that remained, but it was the best he could do, given how stained the rag had become. Then he presented the blade to the Pony. “Be careful with him, please.”
Hammer Strike glanced to the blade for a brief moment as blue fire quickly spread over the blade and vanished, leaving the surface clean. “I’ll assist you for that part. However, …” He flipped the sword in his grip and focused on the pommel. After a few moments, he gave a brief chuckle at the sight of the blue gemstone that glinted in the sword’s pommel. “So, that’s where you went.”
“Excuse me?” the sword asked. “Do I know you?” The blade shuddered briefly. “... Apparently, I do, … somehow….”
“Perhaps not you, but your pommel is made of something that does,” Hammer Strike replied.
“If you don’t mind, Sir, could you hand me back to my master? I’d rather not be pulled into changing my allegiance by a tether you already hold to a piece of me.”
“Believe me, I’d rather not take you into my arsenal. This one in particular ties with another with me.” Hammer Strike sighed.
The metal shook as a golden tinge pulsed around the blue stone in the pommel. “I … think I feel it. And … possibly more?”
“I suppose it would be the equivalent of your family. I haven’t been able to separate most of them from me, as they are constantly trying to return. I suppose your ‘sibling,’ as the best way to describe it, did find a way, however.”
“Final Fantasy vibes much?” Grif asked Hammer Strike in Draconic.
Hammer Strike gave a blank stare before shrugging.
“Um, can I have Shadowsbane back now?” Day Moon asked.
Hammer Strike looked to the pommel once more before offering the blade back to Day Moon. “It’s similar to the sweetest song you’ve ever heard, and they constantly call out to me from the time they burned into my soul.”
“Should I keep Shadowsbane away from you, then?”
“It won’t have any negative effects.” Hammer Strike shrugged. “I’ve ignored their temptation for many years now, and I plan to do so for many more.”
“Okay, so Shadowsbane was forged with this … magic stone inside him. But if it was a part of you once, how did it get into Gryphonia?” Grif asked.
“I gave it to a friend named Hodios a long time ago and sent him to the Gryphon Empire to find one worthy of using it. I believe Bahamut called it a ‘Tear of the Moon.’”
Pensword had landed at that moment, and stared at Hammer Strike. “Did … What?” He blinked briefly, then jumped in surprise, unleashing a startled whinny as he looked Kel’leam’s way. “Okay, why is Kel’leam back, alive, behind you?”
“As I was saying,” Hammer Strike continued, “the embodiments of the Sun and Moon died long, long ago. In their dispersal, remnants were left behind. I carry a number of them still, annoyingly.” Hammer Strike frowned as he finished his statement.
“Wait, the tears are real?” Pensword balked. Then he shook his head. “Another time. I want to know something else now, something a lot more pressing. So, let me repeat myself. Why is Kel’leam suddenly alive? I saw the body. I facilitated your last goodbye. So, how the buck are you standing here right now?”
Kel’leam chuckled. “It seems all it takes is coming back from the dead for people to finally notice you.” He planted a heavy hand on Pensword’s shoulder and bowed his head respectfully, unaware of the commander’s shaking legs. “It’s good to see you again, Pensword. As for how I’m here now, let’s just say I had a little divine intervention. You could say I am that intervention.”
“Kel’leam is my einherjer,” Grif said.
Hammer Strike glanced to the group, noting a few confused or questioning glances. Giving a brief sigh, he finally spoke up. “A simple way to explain it would be a spirit brought back to the physical realm through a connection of more divine nature. Most of the time.”
Kel’leam shrugged. “Close enough.” Then he chuckled. “Wait until I get back home. I can’t wait to see the look on Chesh’s face.”
“And see your son,” Grif added.
“Oh, yes. That, too.” He turned, smiled, then froze as the words sunk in and whipped around to gape at Grif. “I have a son?”
“Cú Chulainn.” Grif smiled at him. “Large boy. Takes after his father.”
Kel’leam chuckled, then broke down into a fit of laughter. Tears of mirth streaked down his cheeks, as if one of the richest jokes had just been told to him, and the punchline had been far stronger than usual.
Day Moon cocked his head in confusion. “What’s so funny?” he asked.
Kel’leam wiped a tear from his cheek and grinned. “Oh, I was just thinking how pissed Chesh is going to be that Grif spoiled the surprise.”
“Somehow, I think she’ll find it in her heart to forgive me.” Grif chuckled in turn.
“If she’s not, don’t expect me to protect you. I may be your einherjar, but she’s my wife.”
“Circlet, would you mind tracking who isn’t onboard, including the three extra individuals who weren’t with us when we arrived?” Hammer Strike questioned.
“Already on it,” Caring circlet said as the golem appeared on deck.
“What the hell?” Grif said, shocked.
“Oh. Hello, Grif. I’ve undergone several upgrades since you were away.”
“I mean, I did warn you,” Hammer Strike added.
“You—I mean, I didn't expect it to be this drastic!” Grif said.
“What? She’s just slightly more … alive, and not tied physically to the ship anymore while maintaining full control over it.”
“Hammer Strike…. If I wake up in a month and I look out a window and I see the moon and Equis outside said window, I am not going to be surprised,” he finished saying while eyeing the golem.
“Nah, that’d take longer than a month. Probably two if I can get some schematics loaded and created, however,” Hammer Strike muttered. “A month if I were to modify the Gantrithor.”
“The Gantrithor’s perfect for now,” Grif said. “Save space until we have Equis settled, okay?”
“I’ll think about it.” Hammer Strike smirked. “To be fair, I suppose I do need to deal with… everything else. Like finding my son, Yharon.”
Grif took a moment. “Oh, right, Dragon son.”
“We’ll chat more when we’re ready to go back to New Unity.” Hammer Strike frowned. “Everyone should be preparing to board once again. Though, I get the feeling Cayde and Tarefson are going to beat them all, despite still being the farthest away.”
“Fair enough.” Grif yawned. “Quick debrief. Then me and Day Moon need to sleep.”
“I think you may be too late, Master Grif,” Shadowsbane said. Day Moon was perched precariously over the sword. His wings drooped low on the deck, and his eyes were practically welded shut. “If someone could carry us to bed, I would be most grateful.”
“I suppose I’ve got a moment,” Hammer Strike remarked as he walked over to Day Moon and lifted the colt gently onto his back. “I’ll meet everyone on the bridge.”
Twelve hours later, the Gantrithor hovered over New Unity and most of the troops with wings had disembarked. Grif, Day Moon, Kel’leam, Cayde, Tarefson, and Victry all sat in a private room aboard the airship in front of Hammer Strike and anyone he thought necessary. They had only just finished their debriefing of everything that had happened.
“And yeah, Sombra was gone before we got there. Raised a goddess, fought a deep one.” Grif shrugged.
Hammer Strike frowned as he thought on everything. “I’ll have to start some scans again,” he muttered.
“Hey, look on the bright side,” Cayde said. “I’m back.”
“Yeah, and I’m going to have to spend the next week fixing you.” Hammer Strike frowned. “It’s good you’re alive. Don’t get me wrong.”
“I know introductions are already past here, so shouldn’t we be focusing on discussing what to do next?” Avalon asked. “The fact that Sombra was willing to do something that drastic is a danger to all of Equis. We need a means to track him other than Grif’s vow.”
“I may have a solution to that, though it would take time to set up.” Hammer Strike frowned. “It is also unlikely to work perfectly, given any satellite or magical mapping from the Alicorns are definitely gone.”
“Okay, questions about what satellites are aside, there is one other matter to settle,” Shrial noted. “What in Tartarus’ name happened to you, Hammer Strike?”
“The Alicorn Empire wasn’t so kind in their prime,” he simplified. “That, and I’m roughly two thousand years older than when you last saw me.”
More than one brow raised in the chamber, immortals and privy members already excluded.
“You look pretty good for two thousand,” Avalon noted. Snowy hooted on her shoulder, and she stroked the bird’s feathers lovingly.
“Aw, stop, you’ll make me blush,” Hammer Strike commented sarcastically, raising a brow. “In any case, it turned out that if stress, poison, and the weighing presence of a god doesn’t kill you, the Alicorn tech will double down on ensuring I stay alive, followed by alternative means also, doubling down.”
“And did this tech do something to Clover, too?”
“Not at all. Why do you ask?”
She shrugged. “Her magic changed while we were casting. I wondered if this technology of yours might have had something to do with it.”
“No, she’s never had to use it.” Hammer Strike shook his head. “Thankfully. Trust me, it’s not a pleasant experience. To clarify my statement from earlier, Sombra comes from the Crystal Empire. And given the nature of said place, he’s trackable through means of the empire. I, however, would need to create the system to do so.”
Pensword raised a wing. “Wait, you mean there can be a system to track all Crystal Ponies?” He put a wing over his forehead and shook his head.
“So, you can make a tracker for him?” Grif asked.
“Maybe. It all depends on if I can make a relay for it. I’ll have to make designs and establish a crystal matrix out here in Equestria.” Hammer Strike sighed. “It won’t be anytime soon. There’re plenty of things that are of major importance right now, including the fact that he has undone all of my work in clearing these specific creatures.”
Pensword shuddered. “They unnerve me, to say the least.” Fear flashed in his eyes as he looked to his friends. Tightly controlled, but present all the same. “You need to teach us, at least to protect our homes and cities. Not to hunt, but to protect what we have.”
“”I’ll lend you some of the old tomes,” Grif said. “As it is….” He sighed. “I have reason to believe that everything thought gone is coming back. Vampires, undead, things of that style. Shouldn't be surprised if cultists and necromancers start popping up, too.”
“Joy.” Pensword deadpanned. “Just what we need, dark robe-wearing nuts.”
“Hammer strike, I normally wouldn’t do this, but I need financial help,” Grif stated. “As of now, I am pushing the building and activating of an adventurer’s guild to top priority.”
“I’ll establish priority on that, as well as bring you an individual who knows everything you’ll need to know.” Hammer Strike nodded.
“The compound’s already firmly warded,” Grif noted as he looked to Avalon. “Can you get a group together to start warding the rest of Unity?”
“You won’t need to,” Hammer Strike cut in. “Clover, would you do me a favor?”
“Well, not with everybody here, but maybe afterwards.”
Hammer Strike rolled his eyes. “Oh, you know what I meant. Start preparations for the return of Ainz.”
“I’ll make sure everything’s ready. Last thing we need is every Pony nearby freaking out when he shows himself.” Clover nodded.
“An elder lich Minotaur would result in plenty of questions and panic,” he agreed.
“Wait, an elder lich?” Grif stopped. “As in triple-S ranked threat, kill-on-sight-or-run monster lich?”
“Indeed. You need not worry about him, since the entity he bound his soul to for power was … well, me,” Hammer Strike replied simply.
Pensword’s jaw dropped as his eyes lost focus. “What?”
Grif seemed stunned as he attempted to process the information.
Vital Spark shrugged. “If you’re the one he’s bound to, then there’s no problem, right?”
“I fought against the world with every means available to me.” Hammer Strike’s eyes hardened. “Every means available to me, even going so far as to bind more souls to mine to avoid the chance of corruption.”
“Yeah.” Clover shrugged. “It kept me safe from the darker magics.”
Grif shook his head. “Well, massive reveals aside, how do we move forward from here? Equestria’s not exactly ready for this kind of problem.”
“It certainly is not.” Hammer Strike sighed. “Thus, I think it’s about time I take back my throne. Of course, I’ll need to gather a few individuals and things first.”
“Your throne?” Shrial asked.
“Yes.” Hammer Strike turned his attention to Shrial. “I spent over two thousand years creating Equestria, and I refuse to let it fall to the likes of these creatures. My daughters may have kept things in check until now, but it’s time I restore things to how they once were.”
“Hail to the king.” Grif chuckled.
“The once and future king,” Vital added. “How ironic that title actually fits.”
“If there is nothing else to discuss, then it is time we depart and get back to work,” Hammer Strike remarked. “Circlet, you’ll be coming with as well.”
“Of course.” The golem nodded.
“Are we finally done?” Tarefson commented from his position.
“Yeah, we’re done.” Hammer Strike rolled his eyes.
Pensword jumped at the new voice, having seemingly missed the being. He looked and his navy coat paled. “Va-vampire?” He put his head to the table. “Hammer Strike’s oath, monsters fighting monsters.”
“Yeah, yeah, vampire, scourge, killer, whatever you want to call me.” Tarefson rolled his eyes. “Come along, Guard Filly. We’ve got to get a look at our new fixer-upper home!”
Angelica Victry rolled her eyes as she approached her savior and maker. “Why are you always so sarcastic?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
Pensword muttered into the table. “To keep imposters in check?” he asked sarcastically. “Nothing could fake that level of snark, Sergeant. And technically, you are dead, so congrats, you got your two rank promotion.”
“Does that mean I get a raise in my pay?”
“Yes, and a transfer to New Unity, so the Nobles don’t go raiding that.”
She smiled. “Well, maybe this isn’t all bad, after all.”
Hammer Strike sighed to himself as he made his way into the depths of New Unity. He had taken time to purposely avoid anyone, since he didn’t feel like explaining things several times before he could just make a speech and get it over with in one action. Thankfully, despite the obvious reconfiguration of the castle compared to what it once was, he was able to locate the chamber containing his sword.
Upon entering the room, he gave a soft sigh, taking in the sight of Astral Abyss. It had surprisingly lacked any wear from the years it spent down in the depths. “It’s been a long time, but hopefully that spatial lock kept the tomb from having to experience all those years.”
“Knowing you and the fact that you literally account for just about every possibility you can, I’m guessing it’s probably fine,” Vital Spark said as he looked around the space, then whistled. “You really went all out for this entrance, didn’t you?”
“Yeah, I’ve never made a spatial lock like this before.” Hammer Strike shrugged. “But yes, I wanted to ensure it was obvious.” He approached the blade and sighed as he prepared himself for what was to come. Then he placed his hoof on the grip and pulled the blade out in one clean motion. Not even a speck of dust sat on the metal, leaving each of the clan marks gleaming in the torchlight around them. After taking a moment to study the blade, he flipped it in his grip before placing it against his back, where it locked into place.
The doors opened with the loud crunching of stone against stone. The chamber within the doors was a wide open space made entirely of stone bricks. Torches of dark fire lit up instantly as the door swung open to reveal the truly gigantic bear skull that took up the entirety of the chamber. Inside the bear's mouth lay another door of onyx.
Vital whistled. “Is this that skull?”
“Indeed. Ainz wanted to use it.” Hammer Strike shrugged as he strode forward. “Be prepared. Though time passed differently here, it still passed in some capacity. There has likely been a change in ‘staff.’”
The onyx door opened to reveal another large chamber; however, this one was carved from rough stone and frozen on every visible surface. On the far wall next to a massive door were weapons of various types and styles arrayed to be picked up at a moment’s notice. Sitting before the door was a massive creature. Plates of armor like chitin covered it entirely. The face was insectoid in nature with large mandibles. Six dark blue gem-like eyes looked out upon them. Off the creature’s huge thorax sat four powerful arms, each ending in three-fingered hands covered in gauntlet-like chitin. The creature had two legs covered in even more plating. Two toes pointed forward on each with a third spikelike toe coming out the back and another growing a few inches above that. Behind him, a thick tail like a segmented tube lay ending in several jagged spikes.
The ground shook as the beast rose to his feet and walked toward them. The air became almost colder as it approached.
“Greetings, you who visit the sacred tomb of Nazarick. I am Cocytus, the guardian of this floor and the gate. Who are you, and what is your business here?” The voice was booming but also slightly gravely.
“Hammer Strike. I’ve come for Ainz,” Hammer Strike called out.
“Oh, forgive me, supreme one. I have only stories, and did not realize who you were. Shall I make a portal for you to the throne room?”
Hammer Strike raised a brow at the comment before replying, “If you would.”
Cocytus reached out a massive hand in front of him, and a large oval-shaped portal appeared.
“Come along, Vital,” Hammer Strike remarked as he moved on.
Vital Spark nodded and quickly followed behind. He offered a swift, “Thank you,” before passing through the swirling mass and into a vaulted throne room lined with banners. A great throne lay on the far end, where the skeletal form of Ainz Ooal Gown sat with focus in hand. A tall sleek figure in pure white garments stood by his side. Her skin was flawless and smooth, her dark hair glossy, and black wings sprung from her waist to make her look almost like an angel. The only part of her that betrayed the facade was her yellow eyes.
“Well now, this is a pleasant surprise,” Ainz said, holding up a hand to Hammer Strike. “It has been some time.”
“I’d certainly hope not too long,” Hammer Strike remarked. “Though, given the nature of the spatial lock, I wouldn’t be too surprised.”
“Depends how you look at it. After all, on the outside world, more than ten thousand years have passed,” Ainz noted. “In the tomb, it has been a mere millennium since we last spoke.”
“Well, it’s time. Though Equestria is not how any of us remember it, we’re needed once more.”
“My life’s purpose is, of course, to serve you, my king,” Ainz said with a sweep of the hand.
The creature at Ainz’s side fixed Hammer Strike with a glare, then looked back to the lich. “King?” she asked. “Lord Ainz, surely, you can’t be serious. This is the great one who stole the souls of the others from their masters and returned them?”
“Albedo, calm down. Lord Hammer Strike is the one who granted me lichdom. My soul is bound to him. Thus your soul and the souls of the other guardians are also his,” Ainz said.
The sudden fire that had blazed in Albedo’s eyes died immediately. Like the leash of a dog pulled short, she retreated demurely to her lord’s side and bowed her head in shame. “Of course, Lord Ainz. I … am sorry for being such an embarrassment to you.”
“Do not apologize to me, Albedo,” he said as his eye sockets flashed bright red.
“O-of course, my lord.” She turned to face Hammer Strike and bowed deeply. “My apologies for my rudeness, Lord Hammer Strike.”
“You need not worry. Considering this is our first meeting, I am not surprised by doubt,” he replied.
“How may we be of service?” she asked.
“While it is certainly interesting to see new faces within the Tomb, I have several things that need to be done. The tomb is open once more, and I would recommend you catch up with Clover, much like Binding is right now.” Hammer Strike sighed. “The world has changed, and creatures we’ve removed have been brought back once more. The hunters will need training.”
Ainz stroked his bony muzzle. “I see. I’ll look into it immediately,” he said as his gloves and mask appeared.
“Just how many people live here?” Vital asked curiously.
Albedo smirked. “Legions, little Pony. But I’m certain they won’t do you any harm, so long as you don’t go against Lord Ainz’s will.” She brushed a hand gently over his chin, leaving the spicy scent of perfume mixed with pheromones that left the colt’s heart racing. “Do try not to disappoint.”
Vital Spark gulped. “Uh, Hammer Strike, anything else we need to do down here?” he asked nervously.
“No, it’s time we return. I have more work for myself.” He sighed. “Ainz, you wouldn’t happen to have kept tabs on the outside beside the passage of time, would you?”
“I haven’t been able to without risking the lock,” Ainz admitted.
“Damn it.” Hammer Strike sighed. “I need to find Yharon. I appreciate you not stressing the lock. I was just hoping someone would have an idea of what happened to him. Tell me you at least remember him. I’ve already got a few individuals who can’t.”
“Something has affected people's memory of Yharon?” Ainz seemed disturbed by this. “I’m sorry I couldn't be of more help.”
“Don’t worry about it.” He frowned. “I’ll find him, somehow.”
“We’ll find him,” Vital Spark said, then smirked. “I’d like to get to know this nephew, too, or whatever familial relation works best for the metaphor. Cousin, perhaps?”
“I am unsure. In any case, I’ll have to really start looking around, start some scans.”
“We’ll do everything in our power,” Vital promised. “If he’s asleep, Luna can probably find him in an instant, or one of the other dream walkers.”
“Perhaps, though I have doubts about that. Especially since Celestia and Luna lack their memories of him, meaning it had to be something … more.”
“Then we’ll take it as it comes, one step at a time.”
“Indeed,” Hammer Strike said grimly.
“Are you ready?” Grif asked as they stood in front of the door to his home. The girls had gone on ahead with orders not to say anything. Now he and Kel’leam stood before the door which, if according to plan, would be answered by Cheshire.
“You’re asking a male who’s just come back from the grave if he’s ready to meet his wife and son?” He chuckled. “This is a second chance I have no intentions of wasting.” And then he strode to the door and knocked with a heavy rap. He turned and grinned at Grif. “Wait till she gets a load of my new armor.”
“Best face forward, man.” Grif chuckled. “You deserve this, and so does she.”
The door pulled open as Cheshire rolled her eyes. “About time you got back, Grif. The girls are exhausted and—” The usual smirking Gryphoness gaped at the massive figure that stood before her. The door slammed shut less than a second later.
“Well, that was … unexpected,” Kel’leam said. “But … I suppose that is Chesire.”
“Give her a second.” Grif chuckled. “It’s not often you see a loved one rise from the dead.”
“I don’t want to make her go mad, Grif,” Kel’leam said. “I like her crazy just the way it is.”
“She won’t go mad. She’s stronger than that,” Grif said. “Three, two, one….” He counted down with his talons.
The door didn’t budge.
Kel’leam chuckled. “You should know she doesn’t conform to those tropes, Grif.” Kel’leam knocked again. “You know, I could just come through the door if you’re that sure I’m not real. Or I could break it down, I suppose, but I’m pretty sure Grif wouldn’t appreciate it.”
“So, tropes don’t apply?” Grif asked. “What's that on your shoulder?”
“A pauldron.” Kel’leam shrugged, then reached to open the door.
Something tugged lightly on said pauldon with the screech of talons sliding against metal.
“Well, what do we have here?” Kel’leam chuckled as he reached onto his back and pulled a very large cub into view. The great Albatross wings and liger body were only too telling while the familiar piercing gaze of his mother’s eyes peered with that playful feline slit that was both unnerving and adorable at the same time. “Well, well. You must be Cú Chulainn.” Kel’leam held the cub close to his chest and preened the lad’s feathers gently. “Hello, son.”
The cub cooed happily as it pressed into his chest.
Grif laughed. “That's probably more noise than I've ever heard him make.”
Kel’leam smirked. “That’s because he needed someone rigid and reserved to poke fun at, like a certain bird I know. I wonder how long it’s going to take for her to get her flustered behind out here.”
“The Kel’leam I knew never talked like that,” Cheshire said from behind.
Kel’leam shrugged. “Dying has a way of changing a person.” He smiled and pecked her on the cheek. “But never enough to forget you.”
“You big idiot.” Tears streaked down her cheeks as she shouldered into him.
Kel’leam didn’t budge. “You’re going to upset our son if you keep going like that, you know.”
“Just shut up and kiss me again.”
Kel’leam chuckled. “My pleasure.” He pulled her beak up to his, and the two locked together while Kel’leam maintained a gentle hold on his son to keep him from being smothered.
“And that, ladies, is how you do a proper reunion,” Avalon said from the door.
“Do I dissatisfy you there?” Grif asked as he appeared behind her silently.
“On the contrary,” Shrial said as she kissed him gently on the cheek. “You do just fine.”
“After a little prompting from us,” Avalon added with a mischievous smirk.
Gilda huffed from her place high above on the landing. The twins were batting playfully at her tail and nuzzling her distended belly while Tazeer peeked from atop her back. Grif made his way up to his third wife and gently took his son off her, then placed the cub on his own back. He finished by giving Gilda a peck on the cheek.
“That’s the shortest excavation trip I’ve ever seen.” She blushed. “Welcome back….”
“And yet longer for me,” he said. “I’ve spent three days traveling through time in ten minutes while watching two thousand years progress.” He hugged her gently. “And that reminds me. I need to get the clan together. I have an announcement, and I'm pretty sure it’s not going to be easy to hear. May be joyful, may be terrifying. But everyone needs to know.” He sighed. “The Black Gale is free.”
The house rang with three identical shrieks of, “What?”
Kel’leam chuckled. “Grif, stop teasing them and tell them the whole story.”
Cheshire waved dismissively. “You all can listen. I already know enough. Kel’leam can fill us in on the rest. But first,” she yanked his breastplate and pulled as she marched him toward a patch of shadow. “We have some catching up to do.” Her voice reverberated and faded into a lingering echo as they disappeared.
“Kel’leam still had the cub,” Grif commented.
“And since when have you ever known Chesh to actually mean what she says when she talks like that?” Avalon asked pointedly.
“Fair enough.” Grif sighed. And then he told them everything that had happened inside the dome. “And so, I freed her, and she gave me the ability to summon one warrior’s spirit in exchange.” Grif shrugged.
“And he’ll always be around? He won’t disappear?” Avalon asked.
“As long as I’m alive.” Grif nodded.
“And the Black Gale won’t go out of control again?” Gilda asked. Even her bravado had been shaken loose by the announcement.
“No, I made sure of it,” Grif promised.
“Then we have nothing to worry about,” Shrial said. “What do you say we all have a family night tonight?”
“I’d like that.” Grif grinned “I haven't had an opportunity to for a while.”
“Good. The cubs missed their father.”
“And I’ve missed them,” Grif said, reaching up to stroke his son's head gently.
Tazeer smiled and nuzzled his hand.
“Then that settles that. Let’s get Gilda onto the sofa, and then we can get started.”
“All right, so where does all this leave us now?” Vital Spark asked as he trailed alongside Zecora through the Everfree.
“What came to pass, it will not do. A light must rise, the shadows subdue.”
“And you have an inkling of this light?” Vital Spark theorized.
Zecora smirked. “Who said that there would be only one? Honestly, Vital Spark, does that sound like much fun?”
“You did say a light.”
The Zebra chuckled. “So I did. It seems my senses have slid.”
“Rhyming again?”
“Now and then.” She smiled.
“A ten out of ten,” Vital returned as he smiled with her. “But seriously, Zecora, what is this light?”
“A power born in the still of night that bathes the world and is bane to blight. It slumbered once, but now has awoken. Its call will spread when the name is spoken.”
“A name?”
Zecora smiled as she switched to Zwahili. “You and I will be very busy soon, little brother. I hope you’re ready.”
“To hunt?”
The Zebra’s smile widened as they approached her hut and she opened her door to the familiar sight of her cauldron and other parts of her living space. “To teach.”
“So,” Pensword began as he slowly walked down the lane toward the castle at New Unity. Day Moon laid sleepily across his back, holding closely to Shadowsbane. “Did you keep anything from your hunt?”
Day Moon was silent for a time, and Pensword had to turn his head briefly to make sure the colt was still awake. Finally, Day Moon answered. “I guess you could say that. Something … strange happened. Grif kept me safe and helped me with it, but it’s something I don’t know that much about yet.”
“Feral instincts?” Pensword questioned. “That is something best left to the Wolf Tribe if it is. It’s something every Thestral deals with in one way or another as they grow up. Even I had to talk to the Wolf Tribe at times when I was younger.”
“I … guess that’s one way to describe it,” Day Moon said. “Grif wants to give me lessons to deal with it, too. Do you think it’d be better if I chose to go to the Wolf Tribe instead?”
“Both, Day Moon,” Pensword answered. “Grif has his lessons and knowledge, and so do the Wolf Tribe. One, you trust as your teacher and mentor. The others are more attuned to our unique primal nature, which differs from that of Gryphons. It is possible you can be made whole, or even better, by learning from both.”
“Well said,” Shadowsbane spoke up. “Most wise.”
Day Moon frowned as he looked at his sword. “Pensword, do you think … Do you think you and Father would be all right if I were to be different? I mean, … if I change, will it … will you…?” He struggled to put it into words.
“Day Moon,” Pensword said seriously, “I would love you as my son, no matter what happens, and so would your father. Remember when your mother and I told you about some of your flightless cousins. If they can love us for being different, then we can certainly keep loving you.”
Day Moon smiled and wrapped his hooves around Pensword’s neck. “Thank you,” he whispered.
Pensword smiled. “You’re welcome, Day Moon.” He raised a wing to pat his foster son on the back. “These are fears that we all go through in some way or another. Though I probably should explain myself properly. The reason why I asked if you had anything you kept from your hunt is because, although you are older than most foals would be for it, you just completed a rite for coming of age. With Grif acting as witness to your actions, you now have the right to be called a proper stallion. Traditionally, the new stallion takes a trophy from their hunt, preferably something safe, to make a weapon or icon in memory of the trial. Your mother has pauldrons with wolf fangs jutting from them. I have an elk handle knife and my bear eye tooth from Dakota. Given the nature of the creatures you hunted, I am not so certain any trophies you take from them would be advisable to take with you, but even Shadowsbane may well be enough to serve as a proper reminder in this case.
“Regardless, today, you’ve earned the warrior’s rest. For the next two days, you are to be excused from chores and any other hard jobs to recover and reset your sleeping schedule. You also should expect a feast to be prepared by your mother in honor of your first solo hunt. Even if Grif was with you, I know him well enough to know he would have let you stand on your own against the creatures in there.”
“He most certainly did,” Shadowsbane agreed. “And if anyone doubts it, I shall gladly rebut them myself.”
Day Moon chuckled. “That’s the most talkative he’s been outside of battle in ages.”
“In matters of honor, Master Day Moon, I am easily roused. I am a Gryphon sword, after all.”
Day Moon smiled as he patted the sword. “And a wonderful companion.”
“Companion. That sounds so much better than ‘partner.’” The sword shuddered in its scabbard. “Honestly, if I ever start sounding like my brother, I pray you’ll knock some sense into me, Master Day Moon.”
This time, Day Moon laughed. “We’ll see when we come to it, Shadowsbane.”
Pensword chuckled and smiled at the antics as they approached the castle’s main gate. “Just remember, you two. When we get to the apartment, we’re all going straight to bed. No excuses. Understand?”
Day Moon sighed forlornly. “Yes, Father.”
A few moments later, the steady breathing and subtle rasp in the young Thestral’s windpipe paired with the weight of his white head on Pensword’s shoulder told the warrior that the new stallion had fallen asleep. It appeared that for some things, one could never truly be too old.
Pensword chuckled tiredly as he entered the castle halls and slowly drew himself toward the waiting apartment and the soft comforts of bed and mates. They would have quite the story to tell the rest of the tribe when Day Moon had recovered, and he could hardly wait.
Deep within the bowels of the castle, the free air finally passed through a long-forgotten passage. The last fragments of cobwebs fluttered down to the floor as torches burst to life around him to reveal a sight that had not been seen in millennia. A familiar landscape with a rising sun stood off to the side. The cobbled streets and bustling Ponies brought a smile to his face as he passed the scene frozen in a frame. Hurricane stared from his canvas with his famous scowl, and a single empty slot on the wall indicated the place where Unity’s king had once hung Starlight Bulwark’s portrait for Clover. At the very end of the chamber, a great portrait stood awaiting them. Yharon sat behind them with his wings spread wide. Hammer Strike and Clover sat together flanked by Celestia and Luna. Starlight stood next to Luna with his great zweihander across his back. An orange corona tinged with blue surrounded the family as a hint to their intrinsic ties to fire and to each other, as well as to create that feeling of a warm family atmosphere. He smiled at the sight of the portrait and wiped away the tears that threatened to fall as he thought of his sons. He would never see one again, but he would be damned if he was going to lose Yharon.
“I always regretted we never had that in real life,” Clover commented at the family portrait.
“It was a shame, but their journeys weren’t over quick enough.” Hammer Strike frowned.
“You think Celestia would have liked Starlight?” Clover asked.
“Definitely.” He chuckled.
“I’ve worked out the genealogy spell. When we have time, we’ll be able to track our entire line, see if his bloodline survived.”
“I’m curious to see what descendants we have, if it did survive.” Hammer Strike smiled.
“You’ll be surprised,” Harmony assured him as she materialized. Her translucent wings practically glowed in the chamber as she looked to her contractor and finally to Clover. She smiled at the pair, though it fell when she looked at Yharon.
“Though I doubt the answer, Harmony, would you happen to know where he is?” Hammer Strike asked.
She nodded somberly. “I do.”
Hammer Strike suddenly tensed up as his mind caught her response, and he turned swiftly to face her.. “Hold on, you do?”
“He’s alive,” she promised. “You don’t need to worry about that.”
Clover let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding.
“Where is he?” Hammer Strike’s voice wavered for a moment before holding once more.
“Asleep. He’s with Father Anderson.”
Hammer Strike blinked a few times at the statement. “He … didn’t have much longer when I left, so I assume you mean, well, his body.”
Harmony nodded. “He served Unity to the end.”
“Can you tell us where?” Clover asked.
“Where he lived is where he rests.”
Hammer Strike’s eyes dimmed momentarily as he thought over the location. “Based off the castle’s position compared to the land around us, it’s … buried.” He frowned. “There’s nothing where it once stood besides open ground.”
Clover screwed her eyes tight. Immediately, her horn covered in layers and layers of magic gaining in intensity until a final light so blinding even hammer strike had to look away filled the area. Clover released the spell in a massive wave that spread out around them. She stood quiet for almost ten minutes before her head turned almost robotically. “It’s there, just underground, deep underground. Something buried it. I mean, even with the time that's happened, there is no way it could end up that deep.”
“Something did. But that is a story that Yharon will have to tell you.” For the first time, Harmony showed not only regret, but … shame.
“Could I make a tunnel from near your tree, Harmony?” Hammer Strike asked.
“Not in my cave. My roots stretch far. You might hit them accidentally. But I believe there is another location in the gorge that should suffice for a starting point.”
Hammer Strike wasted no time in creating a rift at his side. “Direct me and I can make a tunnel,” he said before crossing over, followed by Clover. The two stood before Harmony’s physical form. The tree sparkled and tinkled in the cavern, spreading its light.
Clover concentrated as they ran toward the cavern’s entrance, and a simple line of magic sparked in the air and traced the path onward. “Follow it,” she ordered.
Hammer Strike nodded. “You’ll have to forgive me for my urgency, Harmony, but…” He turned his attention toward the line and ensured he was a clear distance from the tree before thaumic fire surrounded his hooves and the earth in front of him began to dissipate and turn to crystal. Said crystals, he left for Clover to collect.
The light gradually faded the deeper they tunneled. Crystal after crystal was carefully taken and stored. And as the darkness finally swallowed the day, Clover conjured a mage light to see and properly handle the aspects that Hammer Strike continued to crystallize.
At last, the final chunk of earth gave way and then stopped. There was no falling, no clatter. The chunks continued to shrink, and the last earth crystals formed to be carefully stored. In the light of Clover’s projection, the space ahead revealed a perfectly preserved globe. Dust and dirt were suspended like air bubbles in ice. And as Clover followed her husband into the space, she cast her light high into the chamber and turned up the intensity to shower the space with illumination. Occasionally rainbows would filter back through the air as a result of the light refracting through the barest hints of roots. It would seem that Harmony had guarded this place for many a year.
The great arches and ridgid gothic structure of the cathedral stood as prominently as it had in its prime. The white magelight gave it an almost ghostly quality, and the many stained glass windows cast in shadow obscured any possibility of seeing what laid within. But there was something Hammer Strike did sense beyond those portals. Two somethings, to be exact. The life force of his son, and a burning divine power that blazed with the strength of the primal.
“Clover.” Hammer Strike attempted to speak up, though his voice didn’t travel far. “Gather a powerful mage to assist, just in case. I’ll see if I can clear things up in the meanwhile.”
Clover vanished in a flash.
Almost instantly, time altered around Hammer Strike. it seemed even more sluggish than was normal for the cave. He felt a familiar presence behind him as a voice spoke up. "To every man upon this earth, death cometh soon or late. And how can man die better than facing fearful odds for the ashes of his fathers and the temples of his gods?"
Hammer Strike turned to face the voice, taking in the figure of someone familiar, though his conversations before hadn’t followed this nature. “Sleipnir?”
“Hammer Strike,” Sleipnir acknowledged.
“This … isn't how you normally visit?” He questioned. “Though, last time was under the guise of an older stallion,” he muttered.
“Somehow, a random older stallion appearing to you in a cavern that has been sealed for millennia with the only entrance being a tunnel you made yourself seemed like it would give me away.”
“Well, if you offered a sword, I’d probably buy into the act,” Hammer Strike joked, uncertain on whether the deity would even get it.
Sleipnir chuckled. “Perhaps, but you have enough weapons of that caliber. Though I imagine Bahamut will be happy to know you found this place.”
“It ... certainly doesn’t feel right.” Hammer Strike frowned as he glanced over the cave. “But, to what do I owe the pleasure?”
“Supernatural order is about as natural as supernatural chaos,” Sleipnir noted. “It is interesting to look upon the resting place of one of the few people with the gonads to make demands of a god.”
“Make demands of you? Last I checked, he was Faustian and refused to acknowledge you as much as he could, despite your blessing upon him.”
“He was a very abstract individual. Blessed by myself, devoted to my daughter, and yet his actions leaned toward my wife’s portfolio.” He chuckled again. “You knew he had my blessing. What do you think could have killed him with it still upon him?”
“Many things, but I’ll assume you had something to do with it.”
“He cursed me, blasphemed me, demanded me to lift my blessing. Ordered it, if you can believe it. He ordered me!” Sleipnir's tone was almost mirthful. “Had I been present, I am certain he’d have attacked me.”
Hammer Strike thought it over. “Yeah, … he definitely would have.”
“I’m sure you can guess why you have a church frozen in time miles beneath the ground,” Sleipnir continued. “That kind of magic takes sacrifice.”
“So that’s why.” Hammer Strike sighed. “It does explain a few things.”
“He was a unique mortal.” Sleipnir sighed. “My grandfather would have had him in Valhalla for certain.”
Hammer Strike took a moment before shaking his head. “Right, Odin and all them. This is still very strange, I’d like to point out.”
“Not enjoying your bizarre adventure? Prefer more posing? An over-the-top villain maybe?”
“Ex Divinia etiam, no. I’m good. As I mentioned to Faust, and Bonnie, you all honestly put me on edge, all the time,” Hammer Strike replied bluntly.
“Fear of god is important. Even if it’s not your god, it’s healthy to fear those you know exist,” Sleipnir said. “It would be like taming a lion. No matter how tame it seems, it will always put you on edge.”
“I’ve … got a manticore at the castle?” Hammer Strike offered questioningly.
“I was attempting to use a metaphor.” Sleipnir rolled his eyes. “I would offer to help, but unfortunately, it’s not my temple.” He shrugged helplessly.
“Like that’d actually stop you,” Hammer Strike raised a brow. “From what I’ve gathered, you’re the top dog of this realm.”
“My wife hasn’t spoken to me in seven millennia. Do you think I want my daughter to give me the cold shoulder as well?”
“... Fair enough?”
“You need to get rid of the stones you still have,” Sleipnir added. “I’m not sure how much longer you can tether yourself to mortality with so much power.”
“I’m trying,” Hammer Strike replied flatly. “And I’m not about to start handing them out to individuals I don’t know. Maybe Grif to lock it away or something, but…”
“Consider it a word of warning. You are an interesting creation. I’d hate to have to kill you.”
“I don’t need more pressure put on me, please,” Hammer Strike commented.
“Very well. Faust will be visiting you sometime soon, something about a favor she owes you. But for now, I need to be leaving. My wife wants you to set a meeting with her and your Gryphon. Tell him to bring the boy as well.”
“I’ll work on it.” Hammer Strike placed a hoof on his forehead.
“Cheer up. Your son lives. Also, you’ll find something you're missing in there,” the eight-legged Alicorn said as he turned to leave. The ghostly clopping of his hooves thudded mutely in the still air before even that, too, faded into the emptiness, and he was gone.
Hammer Strike let out a breath as Sleipnir left him, the tension in his muscles starting to relax as time began to flow once more. After a few seconds, he moved purposefully toward the cathedral’s entrance.
Moments later, Clover appeared with Twilight in tow.
“I’m back.” she offered.
“Give me a minute,” Hammer Strike commented. “Slephnir decided to show up, and I just … need a second.”
“And he couldn’t have helped?”
“Not his church, and he’s already got enough issues with his wife. Apparently, he prefers to at least have some semblance of a stable relationship with his daughter?”
“Huh.” Clover shrugged. “Take the time you need. I'll work on the equations,” she said.
Twilight, meanwhile, stared at the building itself and frowned. “I know you mentioned that it had been preserved, but this is above and beyond the norm for a preservation spell. This feels like sealing magic.”
“It is sealing magic,” Clover said. “Pure order forced into the space to stop entropy entirely.”
“We’ll be in there soon,” Hammer Strike remarked, placing his hoof on the door as he pat the spot mostly to comfort the thought, only for the sudden rush of dirt and dust to disrupt him as everything around them suddenly settled and the door creaked, opening slightly at his touch.
Hammer Strike blinked a few times before turning to Clover. “Wow, you work quick.”
“That … wasn’t me,” Clover said.
Hammer Strike slowly turned his attention to Twilight with a questioning brow.
“Don’t look at me!” Twilight objected.
Hammer Strike frowned as he turned back to the door. “Then … was it me?” he questioned as he slowly pushed the door open further.
“It must have been tied to you,” Clover guessed. “It ended when you opened the door.”
Hammer Strike finally gave in and pushed the door open fully, revealing the cathedral’s interior.
Even with their artificial light, the shadows rose high over the ball and surrounded them. The entrance felt more like a great tomb than a chapel. A large dish was set into a pedestal and filled with pure water. Row after row of massive pews stood on either side of them as their hoofsteps echoed and reverberated through the chamber. There was no sign of the windows they had viewed outside. The chamber was too vast. Massive pillars and arches rose into the shadows like the spindly legs of a slumbering beast.
“I can hardly see anything. Just how big is this cathedral?” Twilight asked.
“Anderson went a little overboard when he was given full access to the treasury to upgrade the church.” Clover shrugged.
“Despite everything, he didn’t spend too much,” Hammer Strike remarked. “He was quite persuasive.”
“Persuasive or intimidating?” Twilight asked.
“Yes,” Clover and Hammer Strike confirmed.
Hammer Strike took the lead from the group as he made his way further into the cathedral. Before long, a series of familiar silhouettes took shape.
Hammer Strike’s throne of Dragon bone and scales sat on the dais in the center. It lay as colourful as ever with it’s collection of varied dragon scales. Sitting at the top of the backrest was the familiar platinum scale that while having no visual difference from the rest, drew the eye and gave one a shiver down their spine. Sitting on the throne in pristine white robes sat a very ancient and very dead Gryphon. Clutched in his talons was a long sword of silver and a simple round circlet of steel with a sapphire embedded into it.
A familiar figure wrapped protectively around the dais. His breathing was deep and rumbled through the air as he slept. One feathered wing rested protectively around the throne, as if it could somehow shelter it from the cold darkness that surrounded the room and breathe life into the dead frame that laid against the throne’s back.
Hammer Strike’s expression softened as he looked over the scene.
Clover hung her head and a single tear dropped to the ground. “Had to die in the most show-offy pose possible, didn’t he?”
“I wouldn’t expect any different.” Hammer Strike gave a soft smile as he moved forward. He stopped near Yharon and took a seat. “Yharon,” he called out softly. “Come on, my boy. It’s time to wake up.”
A low purring rumble heaved out the Dragon’s chest. The air stirred as a warm breath steamed in the cold air through his nostrils.
“Yharon.” Clover cooed in a fashion Twilight had never heard from the mage before. “It’s time to get up. You’ve been asleep a long time.”
The Dragon murmured sleepily. “Must be dreaming….”
“Come on now, Yharon. I’d rather not use extremes to wake you.” Hammer Strike chuckled softly.
“If this is a dream, I swear—” He broke off as one great eye fixed itself on the mare. It rolled toward Hammer Strike, and finally to a familiar purple Alicorn. “All three of you.” He raised his long neck and stared at the trio with misty eyes. “Is this real?”
Clover moved forward and attempted to wrap her hooves around him, burying her own misty eyes in his feathers. “I missed you.”
Yharon seized the mare in an iron grip and wept out his four eyes as he clung to her. “You’re alive.” Hammer Strike soon found himself levitated by Yharon’s magic to join the embrace. “Are you really back? I mean, is this your present?”
“Indeed, it is,” Hammer Strike replied, returning the embrace.
“Thank the gods.” He shuddered, then sobbed. “I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”
“You did nothing wrong,” Clover soothed as she brushed a hoof along his great neck. “We’re just glad you’re okay.”
“I’m not, Mother,” he said softly. “But with you both here, I think I will be, in time. Did Harmony tell you where we were?”
“It was the way we located you,” Hammer Strike replied. “The cathedral is currently around three miles underground.”
Yharon sniffled and returned his foster parents to the ground. Then he swiped the tears from his eyes and rose to his full height. “Then we haven't much time. We need to raise the cathedral before we all choke. Either that or get out the way you came in. We are still underground, right?”
“I had planned on it, given the fact that ‘New’ Unity is in need of a cathedral, and this one is still well off. I’ll have to align things on bringing it up, but there is a space ample enough to hold it.” Hammer Strike sighed. “Twilight, teleport topside and clear the area where the church was meant to be built. You’ll know it when you see it. It’s got plenty of markers.”
“Won’t you need me above the cathedral first?” Twilight asked.
“I’ll be realigning it as I raise it.” Hammer Strike shook his head. “Needs to work with the current layout of the city. Clover, I’ll need you to reconstitute the ground beneath us to ensure everything is structurally sound.”
“Already working on it,” Clover said, her horn glowing brightly.
“All right. I’ll get to the site, then. It’s good to see you again, Yharon.” And with that, Twilight disappeared in a flash of purple light and lingering sparkles true to her namesake.
“I have the spell prepared. I’ll prime it as soon as we begin moving,” Clover told Hammer Strike.
“What do you need me to do?” Yharon asked.
“Sit down and take some time to finish waking. Magic when you first wake up isn’t exactly a grand idea,” Hammer Strike remarked.
“And you don’t think the shock of finding my parents was enough to do that?” Yharon raised a brow in a manner that was dangerously reminiscent of his father.
“Yharon Pinnatus Strike, you will watch your tone and obey your father!” Clover snapped back.
Yharon flinched at the stern rebuke. “Yes, Mother….”
Hammer Strike exhaled as he started to focus on the cathedral in its current state. Thaumic energy seeped from his body as blue embers scattered across the air around them. Soon after, the cathedral shifted beneath them, and the rumbling continued as the earth outside of the cathedral shifted. Hammer Strike was actively pushing the earth above them apart while raising the cathedral into the open space. Clover, meanwhile, reconstituted the earth beneath them, solidifying it once more to give them solid ground.
The heat of the summer sun shone down on Twilight as she poofed into the construction site. The markers for the new structure jutted up from the ground with bright orange flags. A hurried search easily got her in contact with one of the many contractors to warn away any workers in the area and to ensure the military wouldn’t mobilize when the shaking began. As an added precaution, she threw up a large shielding spell over the area to cordon it off and prevent the populace from interfering with Hammer Strike’s efforts.
It didn’t take long before the earth began to rumble around New Unity, slowly growing in intensity before the earth within the dome split open and sunk. Many warriors of the city had approached the area with haste upon the ground shaking beneath them, but were calmed by Twilight as she tried her best to explain what was going on.
Soon afterwards, the top of the Cathedral peeked over the ground, rising upward until the entirety of the structure was able to bathe in the sunlight once more. Despite its journey through the land, the structure was relatively clean of dirt and in great condition.
“Well,” Grif said as he craned his neck to follow the rising building, “that’s where it went.”
The two engineers stood with mouths agape as they watched. Eventually, Twilight had to lower her barrier in order to allow the structure room to grow as it continued to spring forth from the ground.
Twilight nearly crashed as her wings froze in surprise, but she quickly regained control of herself. “Pinkie! What are you doing up here?”
“Well, the view’s so much better up here,” Pinkie noted. “Gummy wanted to see the whole thing!” A familiar green head poked from Pinkie’s mane.
Eventually, the structure came to a halt, and the terrain closed in, sealing the ground around the building. After a minute, the doors at the base opened, revealing Hammer Strike, Clover, and Yharon.
“We’ve been working to rebuild everything we’ve lost,” Clover said as they examined the area. “A few things have changed.”
Yharon raised a brow as he breathed the free air and took in the hustle and bustle of the workers. “I’d call that an understatement.”
“It’s been roughly fourteen thousand years since I left Equestria. Much has changed.” Hammer Strike sighed. “Do be warned, while he does not come to New Unity often, Discord is free.” He looked to Yharon. “And before anything is said, it’s necessary. Embodiments need their balance. While I was not thrilled of this, it is a step that is needed for balance. He is more … tame, now.”
Yharon growled and ground his teeth. “He destroyed everything. He turned at least half the population against themselves and reversed their magic, Father.
“Yharon,” Hammer Strike spoke up. “I know. But as much as I would like to be rid of him, it will only result in a much worse scenario. You don’t have to like him. Hell, even I don’t. But so long as he maintains his current path, we can leave him be to his minor bits of chaos.”
“Besides, he wouldn’t dare come to Unity uninvited,” Clover assured him.
“All I ask is he not come anywhere near me,” Yharon said.
“He likely will at some point.” Hammer Strike shook his head. “It’s just the nature of his being.” He looked out to the crowd. “Now that I think about it, we’re both the oddity right now. They haven’t seen me as I am now, and at the same time, they have never seen a feathered Dragon.”
“At least they don’t have to worry about me trying to steal their treasures.” Yharon shrugged.
“But you will have to worry about a biiiiiiiig welcome party!” A massive cupcake was suddenly shoved into the Dragon’s mouth, followed by a bouncing Pinkie jumping back and rearing up onto her rear hooves in a welcoming hug. “Hiya, Yharon! Welcome back!”
Yharon furrowed his brow in confusion after swallowing the cupcake. “I’m sorry, have we met?”
Pinkie giggled. “Nope. But you’re gonna see a lot of me!” She fished around in her mane and pulled Gummy from the vast space. “And Gummy! He doesn’t look like it, but he’s a really deep thinker, like you!”
“A general rule involving Pinkie is to not question her,” Hammer Strike recited. “Though, I believe I’m starting to fully see why…” He muttered the last bit. Though it wasn’t audible, he could feel the equivalent of a chant pressing against the back of his mind as he looked at her.
Gummy, on the other hand, was quite different. What Hammer Strike saw was still an alligator, though it was definitely not Pinkie’s alligator. The body was long and covered with scales of a sickly yellowish green. Rows of long jagged spiked teeth stuck from its muzzle that were black and gleamed like the edge of a band saw. Spikes ran down the beast’s back from the start of its spine to near the end of its tail. It had several jagged-looking scars across its body and long curved talon-like claws. The eyes that looked at him spoke of an ancient and somewhat terrifying intellect.
Hammer Strike blinked a few times before directing his attention to Yharon again. “You’ll figure it out.”
“Yharon, actually, I have a task I could use your help with,” Clover spoke up suddenly.
Yharon looked down at the mare. “Yes, Mother?”
“I have a magic student. He’s a bit of a special case,” Clover explained. “Like you, he’s born of a race that generally isn’t directly magical. Thus, we have no idea how to teach him. His ability to cast magic comes from a unique mutation of his body.”
“Is that so?” Yharon asked. “And what species am I dealing with?”
“He’s a Gryphon. But his talons and the bones in his arms are formed of alichorn. He can use them like a Unicorn horn, from what we can tell.”
“That is interesting,” Yharon agreed. “And where is he now?”
“Oh, he’s staying over at the Gryphon compound for now,” Pinkie said. “I had to throw an extra special teeny tiny party for him, since he’s scared of large crowds.”
“Introverted?” Yharon inquired.
“Quite.” Hammer Strike nodded. “Twilight, would you mind giving Yharon a tour of New Unity? I have to prepare a speech.” He sighed.
“A speech? What for?” Twilight asked.
“He’s got to announce Yharon, so people understand. He also has to explain himself,” Clover noted.
Twilight nodded. “Is there anything else you need me for?”
“You can go,” Clover said. “Thank you for your help.”
“It’s my pleasure.” She smiled. “See you for tomorrow’s class?”
“Definitely,” Clover said.
Hammer Strike gave a small smile to the group before turning his attention toward the mass of individuals currently staring at them. “Citizens of New Unity. The structure behind me is to be left to itself for the time being. I will be giving a speech on everything, between this building, Yharon, and my current difference of appearance within the next two hours. Please spread the word around, and I will attempt to cover all questions that may be asked.”
It took a few minutes for the crowd to finally acknowledge the request, and some had to be herded away by guards, but finally, they did separate, and the remaining trio was left to their own devices and to catch up. It was clear both parties had questions, and it was time for some answers..
Hammer Strike’s office was dimly lit by the moonlight streaming through the windows. It dyed the room a curious shade of white that seemed reminiscent of a crypt or sepulchre. The door opened slowly and silently to reveal first Grif’s taller and more muscular form, then the incandescent white of Day Moon’s fur. His mane had become fuller and messier since returning from their adventure with Sombra, but his eyes were still bright and carried a certain gravity in their gaze.
“There you two are.” Hammer Strike sighed. “Grif, I’ll need you to seal the room.”
Grif took out a small crystal and placed it on Hammer Strike’s desk. He gave it a tap and waited for the crisp low note to end. “We’re good.”
“Quite a strange situation we’ve found ourselves in,” Hammer Strike muttered. “Bonnie, this meeting is something you have been wanting to establish. In turn, I invoke your name, and shall act as the conduit for you to manifest.”
It took several minutes for the goddess to appear. She managed to manifest a physical body, but her coloring seemed faded, and she looked incredibly tired. The sparkles that shone like stars were dim, almost gone. Her silvery hooves barely registered and seemed almost to blend with the light cast from the moon outside. Her silver mane rested against her back and neck, having barely enough strength to maintain its volume. Her horn curled long and proud, not unlike Celestia’s, but its light was dim, and the spirals were edged more in shadow than light.
“Hello, Hammer Strike,” she greeted before turning. “Speaker for the Winds, and member of my own people, I greet you both.” She nodded to them.
Grif bowed his head low in respect.
Day Moon cocked his head in confusion. “Are you Princess Luna’s mother?” he asked.
Bonnie laughed at the colt's words. “No, dear boy, though at one time your people called me the moon. And some even went so far as to call me Mother. I am Bonnie, the wife of Sleipnir and mother of Faust.”
Day Moon approached slowly. “So, you’re a goddess, then?”
Bonnie nodded. “Although my power is diminished right now,” she explained. “But it is slowly coming back. You are evidence of that.”
Again, the colt cocked his head in confusion. “Me? What do I have to do with that?”
“When you fought, you showed power you didn’t understand, didn’t you? A raw rage?” she asked.
Day Moon blushed. “I don’t know if I’d call it raw, ma’am,” he said respectfully. “It took me by surprise, and I guess I did sort of lose control the first time, but Grif was there to help.”
Bonnie nodded. “At one time, beasts of the night and creatures of darkness were far more common in the world. Thus, I granted your people a rare blessing. A hunter would be born to keep them safe, one who could grasp the strength of the wolf and make it their own. It will take time to master but you will find it helpful as you pursue your destiny.”
Day Moon blinked. “You mean to be a monster hunter?”
Bonnie nodded. “I care not for war, but I care for monsters even less. With few exceptions,” she admitted. “You will be my instrument, Day Moon. You will cleanse those who would harm others.”
“You mean I can heal them?”
Bonnie sighed. “Unfortunately, too many are beyond that point. There will be some you can save, but others that must be dealt with by the sword.”
“So, … you’re the Moon, then?”
“As I said before, I am the one you used to call the moon,” she clarified. “But I am not the moon itself.”
“So, are you gonna tell everyone else, then? I mean, if you’re the one who helped us find the caves in the first place, then the rest of the tribes should know.”
Bonnie sighed. “I can’t at the moment. I hope to eventually, but it will take some time.”
“Which may divert to me,” Hammer Strike commented. “I still have to reintroduce her name to Thestral society.”
Day Moon cocked his head. “Okay, so where does that leave us now? I mean, I guess I should ask you this to make sure. I don’t know if I need to, but Grif always says to be over-prepared, instead. Can I use your name for invocations and blessings? Grif said I needed a patron to bless holy water and things like that.”
“Of course.” Bonnie laughed. “I would be honored for you to act in my name.” She placed a gentle hoof on his head. “You are to me almost as Grif himself is to his gods. Not quite as close a connection, but you are the closest Thestral to me currently alive.”
Day Moon gaped at her in surprise. “I am?”
She nodded her head. “It’s why I marked you at your birth.”
“How did you do that, anyway?”
“My power is diminished, but not gone,” she told him. “Sleipnir is my husband, and Faust is my daughter. I may gain a little power from both through our connections. There are also the legends of the moon your people tell. The faith you’ve had is something, even if I cannot grasp its full effect. When you were born, I saw you. I saw what you would do and who you would be, and I touched your coat.”
“So, you can see the future, too?”
She nodded. “Several.”
Day Moon cocked his head in confusion again. “How can there be several futures?”
“Time isn’t set in stone until it happens. Every choice makes different things happen.”
“Though I’d bet traveling across it makes things interesting,” Hammer Strike muttered.
“Timey wimey, wibbly wobbly,” Bonnie told Hammer Strike with a chuckle.
“Indeed.” Hammer Strike gave a small smile. “Also, quick question while you’re here. I’m good to bring your name back now, right? No more, ‘wait until later’?”
“Yes.” Bonnie nodded. “I think it is definitely time.”
“Considering I have to act as a battery at this moment, I’d like to agree with that,” Hammer Strike commented.
“I thank you for everything you’ve done for me.” Bonnie gave him a smile. “I will make it up to you when I can.”
“We’ll cross that bridge when we get there. I still need to prepare for my visit to the caves, as I have a feeling it’s going to be an … interesting meeting.”
“You mean the caves where the tribes meet now?” Day Moon asked.
“Indeed.” Hammer Strike gave a smile.
“I will see you then, if you need me present,” Bonnie told him. Already, he could see small bits of color returning to her. “Thank you for this, Hammer Strike.”
“It’s no issue, though I hope I don’t need to invoke your name just for them to believe me. Especially since I wouldn’t be able to properly introduce it first. I’d hope just the blade would be enough for them to figure it out.”
“I hope so, too.” Bonnie nodded. “Farewell.” And with that, she turned and walked away, vanishing as she did so.
Hammer Strike exhaled as he felt the drain on his power cease. “About as much as I expected for the drain, but still quite taxing.”
Day Moon peered intently at Hammer Strike. “So, if Bonnie’s a goddess, and she needed you to help her, … what does that make you?”
“A glorified battery.”
“That’s … not what I meant.”
“He knows,” Grif said. “But it’s the best answer you’re gonna get. Here’s a fact of life for you, Day Moon. You can ask, but that doesn’t mean you’ll get the answer you're expecting, or an answer at all.”
“In most circumstances, yes. In that case, it was just the most direct answer to the question.” Hammer Strike shrugged.
“So, … where does this leave us now?” Day Moon asked.
“Tired, hungry, vaguely confused about what happens from now, and as always, mostly apathetic to the world,” Grif said, pointing between them as he went over points and ended with Hammer Strike.
“Accurate enough.” Hammer Strike nodded.
Hammer Strike sighed as he sat in his study, Clover was to his side and Yharon sat across from them. By some grace of design, he managed to have chairs that worked for both his scale and something for Yharon.
“It’s just the three of us now. Since Celestia and Luna are currently busy, and it would take time for them to remember, since it appeared to be you causing the memory lock on them. Would you mind updating us on what occurred?”
“That depends on where you want me to begin. You know Discord was the origin of what happened, yes?”
“Let’s settle on what led up to the situation you found yourself in, and said situation.”
Yharon nodded sadly. “Things went well after you left, at first. You trained us well, and society carried on that way for five hundred years. The citizens honored their contracts. Any disputes were settled in the proper manner through a tribunal, should it reach us. And true to your will, we never let Star Swirl return to the kingdom. But as the generations passed, the contracts’ magic began to dwindle, and given enough time, the bonds throughout the kingdom began to change. Discord saw the opportunity inherent in that change, and took it.” He shuddered. “I watched families torn apart as their magic, their very natures, were inverted. It spread like a sickness. And then….”
“He came for Unity?” Clover asked.
Yharon shook his head. “He came for Equestria. Everything it represented, everything we had achieved. He turned nature on its head, twisted magic into a literal balloon animal. No one and nothing could stand against the onslaught. The only reason we weren’t consumed by winter was because he turned the Windigos into candy and their snow into powdered sugar. He toyed our forces.”
“You mean toyed with?”
“No, I mean toyed. He literally turned them into toys.
“Did none of Unity’s protections help?” Clover asked.
He shook his head. “Discord cut through every one of them. In the course of events, we got separated, and Celestia and Luna, … they insisted on being decoys. I didn’t want them to, but Anderson overruled me. They were the last remnants from the old empire. They knew they could draw him away long enough for us to get the most important thing out of his talons.”
“What was the plan?” Clover asked. “What were you two going to do?”
“We had to get the contract to safety. If Discord sunk his claws into it, he could easily have twisted it in Tiamat’s favor. He may not have been able to break the contract, but he could corrupt it.” Yharon shook his head. “The rest … it’s better you see for yourselves.”
He raised his wings, and they began to glow with the power of his mana. The energy streamed off of him and gradually formed a large pane through which the two rulers could watch. Yharon grimaced as screams, cackles, and violence spread throughout the area. Monstrous creatures that were barely recognizable as the smallest of forest animals crowed overhead and roared as they rampaged through the city, demolishing buildings and transmuting them into all manner of candy, chocolates, pellets, and other various foods or confections to feed their lustful appetites.
A goat, a snake, and a cat that rapidly swelled into a lion soon merged to create a savage chimera. A silver blade embedded itself through the lion’s skull, rendering the body immobile while the goat and snake thrashed, hissed, and bleated. Moments later, both were silenced.
“Move it, lad.” Anderson was all business. The manic light that normally held such fervor had been cooled by the grim act he had to perform and the import of their mission. “We can’t get that oversized armchair out of Unity, and we can’t let Discord get ahold of it, so we’re going to do the next best thing.”
One gout of fire later, and a corrupted bird that looked suspiciously like a roc was suddenly flying without its feathers and squawking like a chicken. The vision carried on as the Gryphon rushed to the cathedral and swung open the doors. “In here, lad. Hurry. Hurry!” The groan of the doors as they shut was followed by a hastily muttered prayer from Father Anderson as he directed his silver pendant toward the portals.
“Oh merciful Faust, goddess, creator, mother to all living, hear the prayer of thy servant and help us in our hour of need. Hold fast the doors and bar the way to our enemy, lest your creation and your children fall to anarchy, and ultimately their destruction. In your name, I pray, grant us sanctuary!”
The light that spread rippled like a wave from the Gryphon, followed by the scrawl of a pen in motion. Chain after chain of runes and characters flowed from the priest’s paws and talons to encompass the interior of the structure. When they had settled into place, the words faded, and Anderson gasped from the exertion. A large clawed hand laid itself on the Gryphon’s shoulder.
“Are you all right?”
“Fine. Fine.” Anderson waved off Yharon’s hand. “Well enough.” He shook his head. “My faith is strong, but the magic that stems from it won’t last forever, not at the rate that menace is breaking the others’ belief.” He grit his teeth in frustration. “Damn that beast,” he snarled.
“Anderson, we have to find a way to hide the contract.”
Anderson shook his head. “No good, lad. There’s nowhere we can put it that red-tailed bastard won’t be able to look. He’s not like the Dragons or the Gryphons. He can’t be bought, can’t be reasoned with, and honor doesn’t mean a flying feather. Your father warned me about his ilk before he left.”
“Then what are we supposed to do? Why bring me here?”
Anderson looked gravely at the screen and spoke as though he were addressing the king and queen who now watched through their son’s eyes. “Because there’s only a few powers that can bring him up short. Most of them are being weakened. Without faith, gods are limited in how they can act. Direct intervention is almost as rare as a Gryphon worshipping Faust.” He cracked a grim smile. “No, lad. If we’re to have any hope at all, we’ll need the other Missus to step in, get to the root of the problem, as it were.” He raised his head and called. “Isn’t that right, Harmony?”
The voice that carried through the cathedral reverberated faintly, like a fast-clipping echo. “Anderson. I appreciate your confidence, but I barely have the strength to speak to you, even now. Much of my power has been spent to conceal my location and prepare the means of deliverance for our children.” The voice seemed almost to sigh, carrying with it the weight of one borne down by weariness.
“We’re talking to—?”
“Harmony. Aye, lad.”
“But she never talked to anyone before.”
“Times change, lad.” Anderson raised his voice again. “Now, we need your help to keep Mister Mismatch out there from taking hold of this here divine artifact. I may not worship the Dragon gods, but even I know it’s a bad idea to let that windbag dig his talons into that kind of power.”
“Please, Anderson. He has trespassed against many, but he is still my brother.”
“Begging your pardon, Miss, but I don’t give a buck if he’s the emperor of the bloody world. We need to keep this contract out of his hands. You know it and I know it. Now, can you help us or can you not?”
The vision flickered as Yharon blinked in surprise. “That thing is your brother?”
“...Yes,” Harmony finally replied. “Were it not for the actions of the Alicorns, he might have been different. But as it stands, there is no reasoning with him now. He is dangerously close to falling under our other elder brother’s influence. And that is something we must avoid at all costs.” The voice sighed. “Regrettably, I am still too weak to have any significant impact on Discord directly. It will be up to my children to fulfill that task. They will answer to your sisters, should they prove worthy. And I hope that they do. If you seek to hide this contract, however, there is only one way that will suffice. It will require a power that is anathema to my brother, something that he cannot draw near nor corrupt, even if he should determine the location of the throne. And more importantly, it will need to be a power that will grant me the energy to fulfill your desire.”
“Well, out with it, lady!” Anderson barked. “We haven’t got all day.”
“No, noble Anderson, you haven’t,” Harmony agreed sadly. “As I said, there is only one thing that will suffice for what you ask. A price must be paid. And I regret to say that it must be done so in blood. My brother can corrupt, twist, and manipulate all that lives. His power can even reach beyond the grave itself, should he be of a mind. But not even he can break the magic born of a willing sacrifice in contract to order.”
“A death,” Yharon’s voice said softly. “You mean a death.”
“Yes, I do.” Her voice was grave and carried the burden of sorrow. “Sometimes, to restore harmony, one must silence an instrument and reattune.”
“Is there no other way?”
“I’m sorry. Truly, I am.”
Anderson adjusted his robes and drew himself up. “Right, then. We all know what needs doing. Let’s get it over with already.”
“Anderson, you can’t die,” Yharon said. “If someone has to sacrifice themself—”
“Don’t even finish that thought, lad.” Anderson held up a staying hand. “Your father would never let me rest if he found out I let you die over something like this.”
“But—”
A silver bayonet embedded itself in the floor between Yharon’s fingers and vibrated. “What did I just say?” He strode slowly toward the altar, then knelt, as if to pray. At the last moment, he shoved the whole thing over the edge, and it clattered and crashed into pieces as it fell down the stairs and collided with the floor behind. “Now lay that throne right here, lad. If I’m going to do this, I want to do it right.”
The throne levitated into view, surrounded by Yharon’s fiery magic, and settled atop the dais. “But how is this supposed to even work? Won’t you just regenerate?”
“Aye,” Anderson said. “That I will.” He grinned cheekily. “So we’ll just have to do something about that, won’t we?” The chaotic screams and roars of animals, creatures, and monsters were heavily muffled, but could still be heard through the thinner panes of the windows as the runes and charms that were designed to dampen sound slowly corroded. His robes ruffled in the air as they spun with him, and he looked up into the rafters high above and spoke in a calm tone.
"I'm not asking you anything. I never have, and I never will. I am not your child, no matter how gifted I may be at war. I've tolerated your blessing because it has given me the chance to serve and protect my flock. But now…." He took a breath to steady himself, even as his talons clenched all the tighter, and blood began to trickle on the floor. "I can't. It can't. And the rest of you lot won't even lift a bloody finger!" He drew himself up and leveled a finger at the ceiling. "This blood on my hands is nothing compared to the ocean that's heaving outside, an ocean that will swallow each and every last one of you if you do nothing. You're their guardians, damn it, their guides! But once the going gets rough, you decide to step back and let them suffer under a force they can't hope to match? That's not just bad parenting. That's a blatant disregard of your responsibility.”
His gaze hardened as his voice dropped lower. "So, I'm not asking you. No." He chuckled as a familiar cheeky grin bared itself to the world and his glasses flashed white. "I'm ordering you. Take back your bloody blessing, you eight-legged bastard. To Tartarus with it, and with you! If you lot won't act to save this flock, then I will!"
A great rumble of thunder rolled overhead with the retort of many hooves beating over the land. Alexander grit his teeth and stumbled up the steps onto the arm of the throne as a single gasp escaped his beak. Before Yharon's eyes, the passing of years seemed to flow over the Gryphon in a rush. His feathers lost their luster and laid limply against his side. His hairs paled and matted against his body as muscle mass decreased and his limbs began to tremble. The tight youthful muscle around the proud Gryphon's face degenerated into wrinkly jowls. His glasses slipped down his beak as his head bowed from the sudden weight of years to reveal the encroaching fog clouding eyes that had pierced the souls of so many errant youths over the centuries.
"Anderson." Yharon stepped forward, but the Gryphon raised a staying hand.
"Don't you dare," he ordered through labored breath. "Don't you bucking dare." He eyed the Dragon, and his gaze passed through time to his king and queen as they watched. For the briefest of moments, the fog cleared to allow one last piercing glare. "You know what you have to do, lad. No one can find us. No one can know. This contract, this place, you, me. We have to be forgotten. It’s the only way to make sure."
"But—"
"No buts!" Anderson pulled himself slowly around the throne toward the seat. "Harmony always likes symmetry. Isn't that right, ya daft crystal cunt?" Harmony didn’t respond. He chuckled as he looked back to the dragon. "I don't see you casting, lad."
"Anderson...."
"We all knew my time would come eventually, blessing or not. Now get to it. That barrier won't hold for much longer, especially after how many gods I probably just pissed off. No exceptions. Even the girls need to forget. They can't find us. They need to find the tree. Plant the seeds. That heathen of a lich should have taught you how."
"But—"
"And tie any wards you cast to your father. Only he and those he permits can breach these walls, understand? Ward everything as heavily as you can. And then, by Faust, you'd better get your ass to bed. Or so help me, I'll come back to haunt you." That familiar roguish grin pulled at the Gryphon's beak as his head bobbed on a significantly thinner neck. "Go on."
The vision of the cathedral’s great chapel fogged and blurred as tears formed in Yharon's eyes. The flap of his wings and the glow of his magic coming to bear filled the room with a fierce white light. Waves of mana and heat emanated in equal measure, warping the floor of the sacred structure as a multitude of magical circles and sigils manifested at once, bound by a great seal that spread out over the floor to engulf the entire building.
Anderson smiled as white light engulfed the Dragon's pupils. For the first time, they could see the entirety of the room above, the intricacies of the tiered casting Yharon was performing, the white light that radiated from his eyes making him appear uncomprehending.
"Good lad," Anderson muttered to himself. "You shouldn't have to see this." He looked up at the vaulted ceiling of the church where he had presided for so many years. Heinkel had come and gone, and all of her descendents had been too happy to keep serving under him with the other novitiates. Now these children, what few were still uncorrupted, were struggling to help save what souls they could from the chaos.
Tears pattered against the stone floor as he pulled a familiar silver longsword from a sheath at his side. The glyph Bonnie had placed upon it glimmered in the light and seemed to pulse faintly in his grasp. Next, he fished out a steel circlet from his robe’s pocket. He chuckled as he looked on it and smiled. Hammer Strike had shown him time and time again the importance of sacrificing for others. "'Greater love hath no one than this, that a creature should lay down its life for its friends.' How ironic, that just when I'm about to die, I think back to the words of the South Wind." He laughed again. "Isn’t that funny, Hammer Strike?” Then he sighed and nodded in resignation. “Well, wherever I end up, I hope you're all ready for me."
He slid the circlet over the crossguard, and the metal sang as it skittered down the blade to stop next to his chest. True to the will of its maker, the sword slid smoothly through, and the hilt thumped against his chest. He grunted from the blow, then smiled and chuckled weakly as he fell heavily into the throne’s seat. He let the blood flow as he let out a weary sigh. A gentle breeze rustled his feathers, and with it came the old smell of the familiar highlands he'd roamed as a child and the moist clouds of the azure sky. His body shuddered weakly as he felt that chill again and smiled as it flowed over his body. "I'm coming home,” he whispered, even as his life blood flowed over the scales and the light slowly faded from his eyes before he closed them.
A great flash of light consumed all as Yharon roared in his grief and the vision was consumed in darkness as the Dragon sobbed. For a moment, it seemed as though the vision would close, but light began to build again, and the Dragon’s eyes opened to the sound of sweet chimes playing a soothing melody. The stone buckled as sparkling crystalline roots shoved the floor aside and attached themselves to the walls. Rainbows spidered their way through the walls of the structure as the ringing song increased and the foundation began to tremble.
“Sweet child. It’s time to rest now.”
The image bobbed with Yharon’s nod, and the heavy padding of feet dragged over stone as the light from outdoors slowly faded to just the flickering lights spread by Harmony’s rainbow in a kaleidoscope over the room. The view of Yharon’s tail and his hind paws appeared as the Dragon wrapped himself around the throne. He allowed himself one last look at the priest he had known for so many centuries and nuzzled the aged head before settling to the ground. Harmony’s voice filtered softly through the room with the swelling of music as her lullaby wove with the enchantment of the words she spoke, beckoning him toward sleep, in the dark where time would have no meaning and a mother’s love would watch over him.
The projection faded to black as Harmony’s voice fell by the wayside, and the projection finally closed. “And that’s how it ended,” Yharon said softly.
Hammer Strike sighed as the projection dissipated. “I suppose that is about what I expected.”
Clover gently rubbed her hoof on the Dragon’s back. “No one blames you for what happened, Yharon.”
“I don’t expect anyone to, Mother. I did what had to be done. So did Anderson. It’s what Father would have done in our place, if he could and didn’t have any other options.” Yharon shook his head. “I just wish it didn’t have to happen.” He sighed. “I’ll need some time to gather my reserves again before I undo my spells. Fortunately, by unearthing the Cathedral, one of them should already be decaying naturally. It’s difficult to forget something that’s staring you right in the face.”
“I’d hope so.” Hammer Strike frowned. “Once you are rested, I can call Celestia and Luna here, and we can settle that side of things. How does that sound?”
Yharon nodded. “I don’t know if my spells would have effected any of the others who were bound to you. Mother said that might make them immune to certain spells I might use against them. If they did, you should probably summon them, too.”
“They remember you fine, thankfully.” Hammer Strike gave a small smile.
Yharon nodded. “Just … it’s going to take some time, Father. What happened thousands of years ago for you, for me, it was literally yesterday.”
“It’s all right. Take as much time as you need.”
“We’re right here if you need us,” Clover said.
Yharon nodded. “I assume my room no longer exists?”
“It ... somewhat does?” Hammer Strike remarked. “It’s been moved, due to the whole incident, and we can quickly get some furniture placed in to fix things up.”
“So long as I can sleep in my natural size, I’ll go anywhere,” Yharon said. “That lullaby may have put me to sleep, but I don’t feel all that rested.”
“Technically, you did sleep only… ten minutes to an hour?” Hammer Strike muttered in thought. “In any case, Clover, would you mind showing him to the room while I work on getting at least a bed for him?”
“Yeah, I’ll do that.” She nodded. “Come on, Yharon.”
Yharon rose to his feet and nodded as he followed. “Right behind you, Mother.”
“So, Trixie, given your makeup and everything, I wanted to introduce you to a place that you may want to get to know better. Now that Hammer Strike has brought it back, it’s the ideal place for you to learn more about how to better apply the darker aspects in your magic.” The pair trotted carefully down the passageways of the castle. Dust still sifted at the edges of the corridors as they delved deeper into the castle’s depths.
“This person you’ve found certainly likes to stay out of the limelight, don’t they?” Trixie asked.
“They have good reason to for now. That being said, I think he’ll be more than interested to meet you properly.”
“Well, most want to meet me,” Trixie said smugly with a playful smile.
Vital Spark smiled and kissed her on the cheek. “You do have a certain magnetism about you. I can’t seem to stay away, no matter how hard I try.”
“It’s a curse,” she said dramatically.
“Am I really that much of a burden?” Vital quipped as they passed into the vaulted chamber where the passage to the tomb had first been opened by Hammer Strike.
“Oh, of course not. It’s merely the crowds of people who chase me all over Equestria demanding my attention,” she said.
“I guess that means I’ll just have to freeze them in their tracks, so I can have you all to myself.” He grinned.
“We can’t be greedy,” she tsk tsked.
“I don’t know. If it’s you we’re talking about….” He smiled as they approached the great double doors and the massive ursa skull. “Okay. So, Trixie, just a warning. Don’t use your magic on anyone or anything we encounter past these doors. All of them are bound by a contract to serve and obey Hammer Strike. Some of them may startle you, but I need you to keep your reflexes in check, okay?”
“Okay?” Trixie looked confused. “I don’t think we’re going to find much worse than this,” she said, rolling her slitted eye for emphasis.
Vital chuckled. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” And with that, he pulled the great doors open with his magic and stepped through. “Cocytus? Are you there?”
“Who speaks?” The large arthropod asked as he stalked into view.
“What in Faust’s name is that thing?” Trixie asked.
“He falls under a lot of classifications in the magic spectrum. He’s also the first guardian in this fortress.” Vital raised his voice. “It’s me, Vital Spark. I came here with Lord Hammer Strike before? I’ve come to see Ainz if he’s available.”
“Hold on a moment.” Cocytus said as he rose one of his four hands and a eerie hole in space seemed to form in front of him. “Lord Ainz, there are two people from the outside requesting to speak with you. Neither is Lord Hammer Strike, but I believe one was part of his entourage.”
“Send them in,” Ainz said after a few moments.
The hole expanded, forming a large tear before them. “Enter the gate.”
Vital Spark took his wife’s hoof and guided her through. “Thanks, Cocytus!” He waved cheerfully before they passed into the great throne room where Ainz sat next to Albedo, garbed in his gloves and mask. On either side, a number of imposing figures stood atop plinths, and a massive obsidian statue reared behind the lich’s throne. Its eyes blazed with blue fire, as did its hooves, and a familiar coat swathed over it. A great sword rimmed with black with the whte spine of bone had been polished. Its pommel was a great bear’s head. Ursa fur drifted spectrally from that edge while the replica of the great bear token glowed brightly near the blade’s base. While not a perfect replica, the earmarks of Astral Abyss were clearly present.
“My apologies if I’m disturbing you, Master Ainz, but I thought you might like to meet my wife. It’s not meant as a social call,” he said quickly to cut off Albedo’s rising ire. “Rather, an appraisal. She is … unique among magical beings in Equestria. And while Clover has been able to teach us both much, I believe you are the ideal teacher to aid her in mastering and strengthening her skills with the darker half of her magic.” He gestured toward Trixie. “This is Trixie Lulamoon Spark. Trixie, this is Master Ainz Ooal Gown, one of Hammer Strike’s greatest assets in the early days of his rule. You might remember studying some of his spells when we were preparing for one of Chrysalis’ sieges.”
“Come closer,” Ainz said, sitting up as the mare slowly approached. “Trixie, was it?”
“Yes?” Trixie said incredulously as Ainz placed a gloved finger under her chin and lifted it up, examining her and her perfect division closely, the half that was nighmare and the half that was Alicorn.
“How was this accomplished?” Ainz asked curiously as he looked her over. “In all my years of studying magical sciences, I’ve never discovered a being so perfectly able to balance magic. You are truly one of a kind, aren't you?”
Trixie blushed slightly. “I am?”
“In most cases, dark magic will corrupt all but the most devout wills or the normal magic will attempt to purify the dark. Your magical field is existing in a constant cycle not unlike the water cycle, the darkness being purified and the light being corrupted in an equal but ever-present cycle.”
“You can trust him, Trixie. And anything said in these walls will stay here,” Vital promised.
“There … was an attack by a corrupted entity on Unity. It filled the dungeons with some kind of corrupted energy. I held it back for as long as I could, but I was exposed before my rescue, and it left its own scars on me. When I ascended, it took things even further. My own burden to bear for my sins,” the mare admitted, attempting to look away.
“Sins?” Ainz asked.
“I … went to a bad place after my first encounter with Twilight Sparkle. I became desperate for revenge and managed to obtain a dark magical artifact. The,” she gulped, “the alicorn amulet. I spent a few days terrorizing Ponyville before they were able to stop me.”
“Interesting.” Ainz interlaced his fingers as he sat back, seeming to ponder behind his mask. “Well, if you carry your sins with you, you’ll be in good company here, my dear.” And suddenly his gloves and mask vanished in black flames. “Many in these walls have sins they carry on them.”
Trixie gasped and took an involuntary step backwards before looking to Vital.
“I told you, Trixie. So long as we remain allies of Hammer Strike, we’re in no danger here. Every person here has their own story involving dark magic or forbidden powers and arts. Hammer Strike gave them all the chance they needed to be free and forge a different path with their powers, just like what was done for you when you were brought back by Shawn,” the stallion assured her.
“If you require my assistance in learning your power, you may have it,” Ainz said carefully.
Trixie swallowed slowly “Please,” she finally said in a meek tone.
“Very well, Trixie. Welcome to the Great Tomb of Nazarick.” Ainz spread his hands wide over his head against the backdrop of a huge purple banner with a blank face that hung from the tall ceiling to the floor of the dais behind his throne and the rendering of Hammer Strike.
Hammer Strike sighed as he looked out amongst those gathered for the speech. Admittedly, the crowd was larger than he expected. Though there were plenty of questions that hung in the air, he supposed. Yharon, Binding, Swift, and Wall stood behind him. While he normally would have had them just join into the city, their positions weren’t to be questioned. Once he determined that enough personnel had arrived, he took his place on the stand. The crowd’s murmurs slowly stopped as their attention was directed on him.
“Citizens and Soldiers of New Unity,” he began, “it is a pleasure to see you all once again. I’m sure many of you have questions. Between the newly arisen cathedral, the new faces standing behind me, and even toward myself. I plan on addressing as many questions as I can with this address.
“For the individuals behind me, you will find Binding Strategy, Towering Wall, and Swift Wings,” he gestured to each as they stepped forward with their name. “They are personnel from a bygone era who have returned alongside myself. The Dragon standing with them is Yharon, my adopted son, to clarify, but my son nonetheless. Aside from them, six other individuals will be around as well. Ainz Ooal Gown, Lord, Rem, Ram, Tarefson, and Angelica Victry. They have tasks they are handling at this moment and are unable to stand here at this current time. You will likely know them when you see them. Know that they all work directly for me, and you have nothing to fear from them.
“For the Cathedral, it, too, comes from an era long ago, before my departure, long before the Discordian Era. It will not be available to the public for now, as it requires some attention and care before it can be properly used once more. Contracts will be going around to find those of you willing to attend to the task. You need not worry.
“For myself, I’m sure you have some questions as to my appearance, if the glowing eyes didn’t give it away. While I stood amongst you all some two weeks ago, it was not truly as myself. A part of me has always been around in times of urgency, though it was never the me that stands before you now. It has come time for me to stand here once again, not for the reason of urgency, but for the matter of recollection. I have much to address in that regard, but it will take place on a much grander scale than this. Know that I have changed since you have last seen me, my past having finally caught up to me. Work around New Unity may change, and I will put in an effort to assist in those regards as well. Please keep this in mind.
“I know that I certainly have not addressed all questions that you may have, so I will allow for unit leaders, clan leaders, and civilians to ask those questions to ease your minds. Please gather them in an orderly manner and submit them to your appropriate leaders to forward to me.” He wrapped up, allowing everyone to gather their questions into order before sounding them off.
“Does this change anything?” one of the Unicorns asked. “Aside from a few more people in the chain of command, I mean.”
“The work order around New Unity may change, and new equipment may arise from this. Beyond that, I can’t say for the near future,” Hammer Strike replied.
“When will we get to see the cathedral?” someone asked. Hammer Strike couldn’t see who.
“When it is brought up to standard. Right now, it has spent nearly ten thousand years, if not more, underground. My restoration work alongside Clover can only do so much.”
“Will we be getting priests for it?”
“We will after it has been adjusted and repaired.” He gave a small nod.
“What does this mean for the other religious buildings?”
“Nothing. They are all free to continue their plans for building as they intend, so long as it follows the standard guidelines and such.”
“Will there be a time later to schedule a proper historical accounting with you?”
“Perhaps, but it will have to follow standard procedure. I can’t just accept any meeting that comes by.”
“Do you intend to make all of Unity’s history public?”
“It will take time, but we will see how things move from here forward.”
“Does this mean you intend to also perform other archaeological digs for older structures in the area?”
“There were special circumstances around the cathedral that kept it intact. Most structures did not survive the passage of time,” Hammer Strike replied, shaking his head. After a few moments, he noted a lack of questions being moved around. “I see gears have slowed. Should you have further questions, you are free to report them to your superiors who can, in turn, bring them to me. You are all dismissed.”
Hammer Strike sighed as he watched over the personnel of New Unity depart back to their daily tasks. Turning to his side, he looked to those behind him. “Binding, Swift, Wall, you are free to return to your rooms. I’m sure you’d like to get some rest after all of this.”
“One question more before I go, if you don’t mind, Hammer Strike,” Binding said. “Do I need to prepare more contracts, or do you intend to use a different system to help with governance, now that we’re in the future?”
“We’ll need to figure something out, but it won’t be too soon. It will take some time for me to prepare.”
Binding nodded. “Whatever you say. We’ll be at your call if you need us. Come along, you two.”
Wall chuckled as he fell in behind the Unicorn. “Same old, same old. Isn’t that right, Swift?”
“Would you love him if he were any other way?” the mare asked.
“I suppose not.” He grinned. “Still can’t wait to give these soldiers a run for their money, though.”
“Would that be before or after they bid you off like a prize roast?”
“You’re one to talk.”
And so the trio departed as the two continued to exchange their playful barbs that only close warriors seemed to know how to share.
“Yharon, I’m sure Clover has more to show you, so you’re free to return to her. We’ll talk more later.”
Yharon nodded. “If that’s what you think is best, Father.” He frowned. “By the way, Celestia and Luna made sure to get all the,” he cleared his throat, “less than savory tomes out of Unity?”
“If they didn’t, Clover sure did on her return.”
Yharon breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank goodness. In that case, I’ll see you at dinner, Father.” He lowered his head and hugged the stallion again in farewell, then departed.
Hammer Strike sighed once more as the majority of the crowd departed to their own tasks. As he looked out to the departing figures, he did note some Gryphons had approached Grif and seemed to be conversing with him.
Grif caught Hammer Strike’s eye and gestured him over.
“Joy,” he sighed as he turned towards Grif and approached.
“Sorry about this, but some of the clan wanted to get a closer look, maybe ask some questions,” Grif noted. “They noticed your … changes.”
“I expected as much, given the obvious nature of them,” Hammer Strike remarked with a raised brow. “I don’t exactly blend in anymore with glowing bits.”
“What did they do to you?” one of the gryphons asked slowly, taking steps forward as he stared into Hammer Strike’s eyes.
“I assume you’re addressing the glowing tech that makes up my eyes.”
“The records talk about the Alicorns experimenting on prisoners and some of the things they were doing. But this?” the Gryphon said. “This is … disturbing.”
“Slaughter was more like it in most cases.” Hammer Strike frowned. “They found ways to … modify the body of most living species. It stemmed from the idea of enhancing themselves, but they took to testing it on ‘lesser beings’ first. Most died after one augment. If they were unlucky, it was two.”
“The Children of Faust were very wicked to you,” the Gryphon said. “Our ancestors could never tell how far they went. No one ever escaped. To think they would do this to their own kin is wrong.”
“Their own were treated with the utmost care in the procedures. Numbing agents and substances to render the individuals unconscious while the surgery took place were used when the patient in question was an Alicorn. Not so for those deemed inferior. It was horrific.”
“How much more did they do, If I may ask?” the Gryphon said, somewhat cowed by his own bluntness. “We never had a full understanding of our ancestors' hatred, you see, only the records.”
“At a time, nearly thirty seperate augments were installed into my body. Out of those, half remain functioning, primarily because if they were to stop functioning I will either go blind or die.”
“You were there when they fell?” the Gryphon asked.
“I watched their empire burn under their own ‘progress.’” Hammer Strike’s tone shifted. “I watched as families were rendered to ash, and fought against their soldiers for my escape.”
“Winds prevent the second born ever falling to their level.” The gryphon spat to the ground beside him. “If you would allow it, I would like to send a report back to the emperor, an example if you will, about the danger of losing one's morality.”
“I will only allow it if you ensure one thing is addressed.” Hammer Strike looked sternly to the Gryphon. “Not all of them deserved it. I was saved by a family who saw the wrongs of their society. And I stayed with them for years before the collapse of their empire. Despite all my efforts, and despite all our planning, I could only save two of them.”
“I will make sure the emperor knows.” The Gryphon nodded. “The sun and moon should not be held accountable for the past. Still, you are a part of our history given life. It would be good for us to understand the past, if at least to avoid the mistakes of it.”
“That would be wise. Considering I had, I suppose, a rule in the past that, had I still known about it, … I don’t know where things would have ended up.” Hammer Strike sighed. “I suppose I used the rule of three. The example I give is the Dragons. Once, I ensure it is understood that I wouldn’t tolerate such acts, but would grant a chance to mend things. Second, I took it further and ensured my acts of aggression stood as a warning to the entire species. Third…” He paused a moment as he took a breath. “I ripped apart their land, burned away their resources, their food, and nearly slaughtered them to their last. Were it not for Bahamut, there would be no Dragons remaining in Equestria today, save for Yharon.”
The Gryphon visibly stepped back from him and gulped. “Your point is well made, Lord Hammer Strike. I will be sure to make it very clear.”
Hammer Strike took a breath. “I may have taken a step too far, but I suppose my point stands. Should your emperor want more information, he is always welcome to come, with scholars I would assume, and request it.”
“Of course.” The gryphon lowered his beak and the crowd quickly hurried off.
“Well, you made your point.” Grif whistled.
“I suppose I got lost in the moment,” Hammer Strike remarked.
“The fear will do them well,” Grif said. “Remind them where we stand.”
“As if the history in the empire doesn’t paint me in a murderous light as is.” Hammer Strike raised a brow.
“I have some things I need to prepare for. I’ll need to talk to you about some events I think are better kept private.”
“Until then,” Hammer Strike replied simply as he turned back toward the castle.
Grif straightened his dress armor one final time. Currently, he was inside a small room connected to the grand hall of the clan compound. Outside, everyone in the compound as well as his attache to Daedalus waited for what was to come. This was not going to be easy, and he hoped he wasn’t about to incite a panic.
“You’re nervous.” Kel’leam strode silently from the side of the room to behold his clan leader with shield in hand. “Don’t be. You’ve always told them the truth, and they’ve always trusted you for it. Why should this be any different?”
“Because I’m about to tell them I unleashed the boogeyman that’s existed for more than five thousand years onto the world,” Grif noted.
Kel’leam cocked his head in confusion. “What’s a boogeyman?”
“A creature who lives in the closet and eats bad children,” Grif said. “The point is I'm not exactly sure how everyone will react, especially when this reaches the homeland.”
Kel’leam shrugged. “You promised you would return the Winds, didn’t you? Who knows? Her power may be needed to bring back the others. If you explain who she’s become, then they won’t have to fear her anymore.” He chuckled. “I just can’t wait to see how they react when we tell them about me.”
“I don’t remember you being so much of an optimist.” Grif laughed
“Death has a way of changing people.” Kel’leam shrugged again. “That, and I can finally be noticed when I want to be. Why shouldn’t I be optimistic?”
“Fair enough.” Grif chuckled. “I should be heading out there. Are you ready?”
“Chesh suggested I use this phrase. I have no idea what it means, but she said it would make you laugh.” Kel’leam smiled. “Beam me up, Scottie.”
True to the prediction, Grif laughed a loud clear chuckle. “She knew I would need that. Okay. I’ll see you soon.”
“You bet.”
Grif gave a sigh and slowly stepped out of the small room into the grand hall. He looked out onto his family. The Bladefeather Clan had thrived and expanded exponentially over the last few months. A small smile came to his face as he looked upon all of them. Happy, healthy, and hardy, the Gryphons before him stood proud and tall. Long-gone were the ragged clanless mercenaries he’d taken in. Near the front stood several Gryphons dressed in finer clothing and carrying the sigils of the emperor and the Winds Father. Standing on the dais was the council. Each of the older Gryphons dressed in warm coloured robes. Thallia stood next to them dressed in her own dress armor as his military head. Avalon stood a short distance in front of Grif, wearing a resplendently ornamented robe designed and crafted by one of the many Gryphon seamstresses that had settled within the compound. The white cloth complemented her feathers while golden thread was carefully woven to create intricate flowing designs that passed over the fabric like great fronds blowing in the wind. Her focus hung openly around her neck, and a corona not unlike a fine mist seemed to billow softly around her, as if in homage to her namesake.
Grif gave each a nod as he walked over to Avalon, giving her a proper bow of the head. “You have that voice amplifying charm?” he asked quietly.
“As if you would need it,” she said cheekily. “But yes.”
Grif signaled her to activate it. When she confirmed she had, he cleared his throat and looked onto the crowd.
“My friends, my family, we have been through a lot together, and I’d like to believe I have proved myself to you and gained a modicum of trust. It is on that trust that I ask you all to hear me out entirely before you react.” He paused to let his words sink in. “I promised when I was recognized as Avatar that I would do everything I can to begin bringing us back to what we were. I stand before you today to inform you that I have taken the first step.”
A murmur rose through the crowd at the announcement. What was Grif talking about? What was this step? Did it have to do with the gems? Had he uncovered a clue to the spell he needed to call back the Winds?
Grif went on to explain a very summarized version of his fight, telling them only the details they needed to know. But he held nothing back about his experience with the Black Gale and its newfound freedom. As expected, there was a certain amount of uproar over the claim. The gale had been sealed for a reason, and now Grif had unleashed it on the world again. That would take time to adapt to, even if they were willing to trust the new goddess.
“Grif, now might be the time to tell them about the covenant,” Avalon whispered.
Carefully, Grif went over the essential details of his contract with the deity, being sure to take time to explain each portion. “And now, as proof of this contract, allow me to present the gift that Therra granted me. Kel’leam if you would,” he called, pulling on the link between them.
The air seemed to ripple and waver around the Gryphon for a moment, as though a great heat wave had gathered. That wavering soon gained distinction as it became a white aura that thickened and expanded as it sprouted from Grif’s frame. The first thing to materialize was the great shield. Then came the mighty arm, the powerful armor, the burnished plating, the great talons, and finally the massive Gryphon’s body as Kel’leam hovered above Grif, positively radiating with the divine power of their bond.
He smiled at the gathering and bowed with a flourish. “My apologies for not revealing myself sooner, everyone, but Grif insisted we wait until after he had the chance to explain.” He chuckled. “Don’t worry. I let Cheshire know.”
“He knew what I’d do to him if he didn’t,” Cheshire said as she appeared next to him on the stage with their son at her side. Uneasy chuckles filtered through the air as Kel’leam kissed her in response to the playful jab.
“Don’t you worry. You’re all invited to the wedding,” Kel’leam promised.
Grif chuckled as he looked at the crowd. “I will work on getting a more accurate report drawn up. And hopefully, I’ll be able to talk with the Winds Father about what this will mean going forward. Until that time, this is all I can tell you. Thank you for coming. I’ll let you know as soon as I have more information on next steps.”
Grif nodded as the clan began to disperse. “I just hope I've done the right thing,” he said quietly.
“You reunited me with my family and you gave new life to one of the most important deities ever to live on this planet. I think it’s safe to say you’ve done the right thing,” Kel’leam noted as he picked up Cú Chulainn and put him on his back.
“The path to hell, Kel’leam,” Grif said as they headed home, “is paved with good intentions.”
“So? Just have Hammer Strike bring you back.” Kel’leam shrugged his wings. “He probably could, you know.”
Pensword looked over the letter he had written to Fancy Pants, reading over it one more time. A lemon inside a magic pentagram had been drawn at the top, a clever signal designed to deceive any spies and mages that might try to perceive his true message by magical means. Only Fancy Pants would understand the meaning behind it, and his wife, being a former member of the guard, would know how to reveal the hidden text. It was strange to be writing using lemon juice, rather than ink, but if the trick could work back on Earth, it should work especially well in a world where magic was the primary means of communication and encoding.
Dear High Duke Fancy Pants, I am writing to invite you and select others of your unique business sensibility to a private meeting three months from the day that I write this letter. I wish to discuss a unique investment opportunity that is sure to prove profitable for all parties involved. If you are to be there, please return a postcard via the Canterlot Railway Station with a message expressing that you wish you were able to see the clock tower at sunset.”
Pensword smiled as he let the juice dry and waited for a time before he rolled it up, sealed it, and placed it in the outgoing mail. The regular service would be slower than Dragon fire, but it would give him time for everything to get settled. There were still loose ends to tie. Next on his list would be something that could prove to be … unpleasant, depending on the time of day, but it had to be done.
Pensword sighed as he rose, stretched, and departed for Ponyville. The sun had begun to trail low as twilight set in, dying the sky rich hues of purple, red, green, and gold. As he alighted in front of the Rich cottage with invitation in wing, he hoped that when he knocked, it would only be Filthy Rich and no one else. He was not in the mood to deal with Diamond Tiara and her mother.
The door pulled open. Much to Pensword’s dismay, a familiar pink mare with purple mane and heavy eyeshadow gazed blandly at him as they narrowed in distaste. “What do you want?” she asked in a surly tone. “If this is about a proposal for the next board meeting, you can bring it up at the school. What’s left of it, at any rate,” she muttered the last part.
“Good evening, Spoiled. To answer your question, I am here to discuss business with your husband,” Pensword responded curtly and gave a brief nod of acknowledgement toward the mare. This was her home, after all, and he knew better than to throw courtesy aside when visiting.
“He’s not interested in supplying the military,” she said coolly.
Pensword raised a brow. “I’m not dressed in my uniform, and I didn’t bring up anything about the military. As I said, I have a business proposition to discuss with your husband,” he stressed. “Would you mind asking him to come to the door? I would hate to interrupt your time with your daughter, and I know how people like myself seem to offend your … unique sensibilities so. I assure you, this discussion won’t take longer than a few minutes for us to conclude our business, and then I’ll be on my way,” Pensword answered just as coolly.
Spoiled scoffed and turned aside. “Wait there,” she commanded imperiously as her tail snapped dismissively behind her. As she left, the soldier couldn’t help but fantasize about the glorified spanking he was certain was long overdue for the would-be-socialite. And perhaps a few curtailings of allowance for good measure. He smiled at that thought as he imagined the mare’s shocked face. A few moments later, he was ready and able to offer a genuinely warm greeting to the stallion.
“Pensword. It’s been a dog's age since I’ve seen you around Ponyville,” Filthy welcomed. “What brings you around these parts at such a late hour?” He chuckled good-naturedly. “Or would that be early for you?”
“Definitely early for me,” Pensword agreed. “I Had to get some mail out to the post before the last carrier ended for Luna’s shift.” He looked around, “As I’m certain your wife has told you, I wish to discuss some business opportunities with you that are of a more personal nature. If you don’t mind, might we take a walk through your gardens as I go over the details with you?”
“I normally save these kinds of things for the office in the store, but since you’ve gone to so much trouble to meet with me, I suppose there won’t be any harm in hearing what you have to say.” He turned and kissed Spoiled on the cheek. “I’ll be back soon, pumpkin. Why don’t you go ahead and get ready for tonight? I’ve got something special planned for you,” he said meaningfully as he smirked mischievously.
Spoiled blushed. “O-oh, my….”
Filthy chuckled as he stepped out the door and motioned with a hoof. “Come, let’s talk a while. I can afford maybe ten minutes before she gets impatient.” He chuckled again. “She’s a real hooful sometimes, but I love her.”
Pensword nodded and waited for them to be out of ear shot, then gave a quick pitch for the meeting.
“And you intend to show me and these select other investors this opportunity where?” Filthy asked.
“The Thestral Quarter in Canterlot. Should you accept my invitation, I’ll forward the address to you.”
“And how long is this presentation of yours going to take? Time is money, after all.”
“We estimate approximately two hours. More, if we have too many questions. However, in the spirit of absolute frankness, this is to be a private event meant only for you and the other investors. I must kindly request that you leave your daughter and wife behind.”
“And your reasoning for this request is…?”
“Just what I have observed. One of the investors I’ve invited is an Apple family member. Given the friction that’s existed between your wife and daughter and the Apples, there could be bad blood. There is also the matter of security. Children can be very open about what’s going on around them. Your daughter is especially susceptible to this trait when it comes to mentioning how proud she is of you. And your wife…. Well, after crossing swords with her over our donations to the school and the funds’ use, I don’t entirely trust her to maintain confidentiality.
“And while Hammer Strike will not be involved at any stage of this venture, nor its dealings, this is still very much a political affair. My ties to him and public support for the integration of Thestrals has bred no small amount of ill will toward me. There are several Unicorns out there that would love nothing more than to steal from me and keep the Thestrals financially beholden to Equestrian aid and government payrolls. Your wife’s antagonism toward me and the Gryphons is well known, and could easily be exploited in an attempt to steal the details of my operation. Contract magic is expensive, and I would rather not have to invest in its use when it is not necessary to do so.”
“I trust my wife, Pensword, but I can understand the need for security in an affair like this. And I understand your viewpoint, given the previous difficulties that have arisen with my family, particularly involving Miss Dinky and her … charming mother.” He winced at the mention of the mare. “For the sake of your security, I’ll leave the girls out of it. However, should I choose to buy a stake in this opportunity of yours, I insist I be allowed to tell them about it. When would be appropriate to do so can be easily negotiated later. Is this an acceptable compromise?”
“I believe so. As I said before, I just want to make sure that we don’t lose out to would-be-competitors.”
“Then I’m looking forward to receiving the details. Bring them by my office at the store when you have the chance. I’d prefer to have enough advanced notice to arrange my schedule properly.”
“That is acceptable. It will take a few days to finish the last coordinations between the attendees. I’ll make sure to get the information to you as soon as possible. Though as a last request, if you don’t mind, could I have a hair from your mane? In the event you’re not present when the details are dropped off, I would rather enchant the contents, so only you can open them.”
“Fair enough.” It was a simple matter to pass the hair to the Pegasus. “I’ll be keeping an eye out for you.” Then he smiled. “Say hello to the rest of the folks back at the castle for me, won’t you?”
Pensword smiled. “I will.”
Hammer Strike frowned as he sat in the throne room of New Unity, having spent the time to move the throne back into its proper space. Yharon stood off to the side and rubbed his arms nervously. Thankfully, Hammer Strike still managed to have a link set up to send messages to Celestia and Luna, and had requested their presence for the purpose of recovering their memories.
“I know it was necessary, but I still can’t help but worry how they’ll react after I give everything back to them,” Yharon admitted.
“It’ll certainly be interesting.” Hammer Strike gave a small smile. “Since the response I anticipate is leaning toward both: them being happy, followed by upset that you would do such a thing.”
“And hopefully ending with understanding for the reasons? I really don’t need Luna to beat the tar out of me in another sparring match.”
“Probably not going to listen for the first bit, but will get it afterwards.” Hammer Strike chuckled.
“... I forgot how much pleasure you took in our discomfort,” Yharon deadpanned.
Finally, twin flashes of light flared, followed by the diarchs’ arrival as they gazed on the great feathered Dragon in awe.
“A feathered Dragon?” Luna's eyes widened as she took Yharon in.
Yharon smiled timidly. “One of a kind,” he replied.
“Judging by your size, you must be fully matured.” Celestia frowned. “And from Father’s words, the brother we’re supposed to remember.”
“Indeed, he is.” Hammer Strike sighed. “Now, I’d like both of you to step forward and allow him to remove the spell placed over you two.”
Luna stepped forward as soon as she was bid, never quite taking her eyes off the sight.
“This magic was a complex spell I learned from an old teacher in our studies to save Father a long time ago. Its power was amplified by a formula of my own design to affect as wide an area as possible. The original point of casting was the Cathedral, and normally I would have broken it there as well, but the anchor point is no longer so firmly rooted after all the years that have passed. The primary connection of my spell is now tied to two individuals.” He smiled lovingly as tears welled in his eyes. “Two who I am so very glad to know survived.” His wings spread wide as he gathered the mana in the air surrounding him. “It’s time for history to be made right.” He laid a clawed hand on either of the mares’ heads, touching the bases of their horns. “This may be disorienting,” he warned as layer after layer of magical sigils and seals manifested over their foreheads. One by one, each shattered into so many shards of light that gradually faded into the ether in a cascade that eventually left the two mares standing alone again. Were it not for Yharon’s grip, the two would have likely stumbled backward. Finally, Yharon bowed his long neck and pulled back from the pair. “It’s done,” he said.
Celestia blinked and shook her head as the rush of magic swept over her mind in a torrent that swept away the forgeries that had been placed there. The princess’ eyes widened and lost focus as she processed the new information, and she looked almost as though she might faint when, at the last moment, her gaze regained its focus. Seconds later, Yharon found his neck wrapped by two great white wings. “Thank goodness you’re safe,” she whispered.
Tears ran down Luna's eye’s as she approached him slowly. “Little brother.” She buried her face in his feathers.
“And that settles that bit of worry.” Hammer Strike sighed contentedly.
“Oh, no. You’re not getting out of this one,” Yharon said as Hammer Strike was wrapped in the Dragon’s Magic and pulled into the hug. “We haven’t had one of these in far too long.”
“I’d summon Clover to join in, but I have a feeling she’d know what’s going on and would be too busy.” Hammer Strike chuckled.
“We could always pool our power to bring her together,” Yharon said with a wink to his sisters.
“Would that even be enough?” Luna asked.
“Between you three? Barely, and I’m quite sure the results would differ from what you would like.” Hammer Strike smiled.
Yharon sighed. “Ah well, I suppose we’ll just have to go with the old standby. Luna, if you would do the honors?”
“WE SHALL HAVE A FEAST!” Luna crowed.
“We’re moving this to Canterlot,” Hammer Strike added. “I doubt the chefs here are prepared enough for this.”
Celestia giggled behind a wing. “The chefs at Canterlot are barely prepared enough as it is.”
“So, which of us is giving the invite to Mother?” Yharon asked.
The fire crackled merrily in the hearth in Clover’s study as four large and high-backed chairs circled the fire’s edge. Yharon laid on a large pile of cushions that formed the highest arc of the curve. Hammer Strike and Clover sat on either side of him while Luna and Celestia took the two chairs closest to the hearth. Mugs of ale and literal moonshine either nursed in their grips, hovered in magic, or laid on handy side tables while they sat together.
“So,” Yharon began, “now that we’re all together again, I suppose we should get to work catching up. It’s been thousands of years since Discord attacked. What happened while I was asleep? What have I missed?”
“A lot,” Luna said. She swayed ever so slightly in her seat, being somewhat tipsy after pounding back her moonshine.
“Clearly. So, let’s start with the bigger things. I know you two were able to find the tree, and she was able to give you the help you needed. What happened after that?”
Celestia shrugged. “We rebuilt. Without you or Father present, it was all we knew how to do. However, we each still knew you would return one day,” Celestia said as she motioned toward Hammer Strike. “So, rather than allow the populace to confirm either of us as queen, we put our heads together to ensure a relative balance could be maintained in the kingdom. Any that seek to claim dominion over Equestria must reclaim the crown jewels of the kingdom and gather them in the throne room.” She smirked. “You won’t believe how many years we had to deal with people trying to fool us into thinking they’d brought them. Luna and I made a game of expelling them from the castle.” She giggled and almost snorted some of her ale up her nose. “Remember how you treated one of the nobles like a golf ball, Luna?”
“As I remember, you always made a big show of rebuking me in front of the nobility,” Luna said.
“Would you rather we invited a revolt? There was no way the kingdom could have afforded it so soon after Discord was imprisoned.”
“It certainly does sound like the better option,” Hammer Strike offered.
“Didn’t help things in the end,” Luna said before taking another deep gulp. “Look where it got us.”
Celestia frowned. “Yes.” She sighed and sipped from her stein. “I know….”
“Nothing goes perfectly to plan.” Hammer Strike sighed. “You can only make do with what you are given.”
Celestia sighed again. “I suppose I should get the worst of it out of the way now, Yharon. We ruled Equestria for many years, but that rule wasn’t truly an equal one. Over the years, the Ponies came to fear Luna, even despise her. In the end, that and my own hubris allowed for terrible wrongs to take place. Ultimately, Luna was left alone. I didn’t give her the care or the respect she deserved at the time. And … I played favorites.” She took another pull. “I suppose it’s better to say I was too soft on enforcing the laws we laid out in the first place, and the Thestrals suffered because of it. And by extension, so, too, did Luna.” She gulped down the rest of the contents, then continued. “Because of my actions, Luna lost the only pillar of support she had left. The end result was full possession by the creature that Equestria has come to call Nightmare Moon.”
Celestia sighed. “I had no idea the depth of the pain she had bottled up for so long until she finally raised her horn against me. We’d sparred before, but this time, she was completely unrestrained. I couldn’t reason with her, and I hadn’t a prayer of fighting her on equal ground. The harmony we’d carried between us as sisters was shattered, and now she posed a threat not only to me but to the entire kingdom, perhaps even the world.
“So, I did the one thing I could do. I summoned the power of the Elements of Harmony. They answered my call, but they didn’t save Luna. They banished her to the moon, sealed her there. I suppose it’s better to say that they wouldn’t save her, at least not then. I remember hearing a voice. Or maybe it was voices.” She shook her head. “It or they spoke to me. ‘This shall be your punishment. This shall be your burden to bear.’ Luna was gone. And after I used them, the Elements grew still and went dormant. I could never call on them again. Believe me, I tried. I wanted to bring her back so badly. No one could console me, and after the destruction that we wreaked, I couldn't bear to stay. Thus, Canterlot was born.”
“Is that why you built your castle on the side of a mountain?”
“I suppose I hoped to be left in peace. The mountain was much more difficult to traverse back then. But you know how stubborn Ponies can be. They find a way.”
“I hope you’ve had ponies reinforce the mountain,” Clover commented. “Seems like a landslide could take the entire city and the palace out.”
“If I’m being perfectly honest, I think I hoped one would. I … wasn’t in the best state back then. Proper precautions have been taken since, but at first, yes, it was a very dangerous place to settle.”
“Fear not, sister. All is in the past now. And with the High King returning, none shall touch my Thestrals without reason and get away. Long live the king!” Luna actually hiccuped and she held her stein up.
“Oh, the joys of ruling once more.” Hammer Strike sighed. “Indeed. It’ll take time before I’m ready, however. There are many things to do before I take that title back.”
“What I’m curious about is how Luna was returned, if not by your hooves,” Yharon pointed out. “It would take some very powerful magic to overcome that kind of seal.”
“I had help,” Luna said.
“And I had help in preparing to receive her. When enough of my melancholy passed, I knew I had two choices: Try to forget about Luna and move forward or try to find a means to save her. Four words decided that dilemma for me: What would Father do?” She smiled. “I found some trustworthy Ponies to oversee the House of Nobles and instructed them to take the reins of government in my absence until I should return.
“I travelled the world for a number of years. As an Alicorn, it was fairly easy. I journeyed to every possible location I could think of that might hold even a scrap of information that I could use. Eventually, I was drawn to the Zebra nation. One of their gods, the Titaness Opal, instructed them to assist me. They … had been expecting my arrival for some time. Their arts are of a different nature than any magic I’ve beheld before. And it was by these arts that a prophecy was divined, one which would grant me purpose and guide me toward the reconciliation I yearned for above all else.
“Of course, like all prophecies, there was more than one possible outcome, but I was granted enough instruction to plant the proper seeds and ensure the best one. The rest would rely on those whom the prophecy indicated, the current bearers of the Elements of Harmony. Were it not for Twilight and her friends, I fear Luna would have been lost to us forever.” Celestia shuddered. “I hate to even think of it.”
“But all is well now?” Yharon asked.
“Depends on your definition of well.” Luna laughed. “Everything’s peaceful for the moment, but Chrysalis is still out there, and other threats are still lying in wait. Sister, has anyone checked on Tirek’s containment in the last ten years?”
Celestia frowned. “No, I don’t believe so.”
“I’d recommend getting everything in order for when I do take the throne back,” Hammer Strike spoke up. “I’d rather not have to search through notes and reports from all over to figure out everything that’s been done.”
Yharon chuckled. “Just imagine the heads that are going to explode when Mother takes her role as High Queen again.”
New Unity rumbled as Luna’s loud laughter echoed through the castle.
The air was battered by the heavy beat of fiery feathered wings as Yharon settled outside the great cliff face that formed the entrance to the stockpile Grif guarded and the home that he and his family had built there. The Dragon cleared his throat and rapped against the door with a curled talon, then wreathed himself in magic as his form shrank to more suitable proportions for the doorway.
Grif opened the door a few minutes later. “Sorry for the wait. This place is big, and sometimes it takes a—” Grif cut off as he noticed the Dragon. “Oh. Hello, Yharon,” he greeted. “Please, come in.”
Yharon smiled and nodded. “Thank you.” As he stepped into the wide entry hall, he smiled and nodded his approval. “I see you also have a certain skill with stonework. My compliments.”
“This was made without my knowledge.” Grif laughed. “Your father and my clan decided I needed a bigger house, whether I wanted it or not. But you’re not here to see me.”
“No, I am not,” Yharon agreed. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t pay respects to the master of the house, especially one who’s done so much for my father before I even knew him.”
“Your father did a lot for me.” Grif shrugged. “I’ll find Gilgamesh for you. Just wait here.”
Yharon nodded. “Of course.” He then proceeded to conjure a portal through which he withdrew a familiar black orb and a series of tomes and scrolls, alongside a sheaf of notes Clover had made on Gilgamesh’s unique mutation.
It didn’t take long for Gilgamesh to arrive before Yharon, and after briefly looking over Yharon, proceeded to lower his gaze to the floor. “I-I was told you were here for me?”
Yharon smiled gently. “I am. I’m told you have gotten to know my father very well. I hope we can build a similar relationship. Like you, I am … unique among my kind.” His feathers glowed gently, and a small ball of light pooled in an extended hand. “If you are willing to trust me, and to have me, I would like to try to teach you what he and my mother taught me.”
Gilgamesh looked over Yharon before giving a small nod. “I am w-willing to learn...”
Yharon nodded. “I am glad to hear it. Though before we are to begin, I must ask about any potential issues, fears, or triggers that you wish to be addressed. I don’t wish to cause you discomfort, especially since that appears to be one of the things that causes your magic to lash out in the first place.”
“I’m n-not exactly the bravest in the f-first place.” Gilgamesh rubbed the back of his neck. “S-so long as there aren't any surprises, I should be fine.”
“I will try to limit them at first, then,” Yharon promised. “But I cannot guarantee they will not come at some point in the future. Magic, for the most part, is easy to predict and control. But the more advanced one becomes in the art, the more it is capable of change and surprise. Magic, in its natural state, is a wild thing that is neither good nor evil. It is up to each individual to tap it, mold it, and shape it as they see fit. And sometimes, those shapes become something more than intended. Tell me, will you be willing to accept such changes, should they occur for you in your training?”
“I am. I j-just want to ease into it is what I meant.”
Yharon smiled. “Good. To fear what you are and what you wield would do far more harm than good. The fact you already understand that and wish to achieve mastery shows that you have potential. I am told that you have had some small amount of training in touching your magical field. Would you be willing to show me what you have learned thus far?”
“M-maybe we should move to some f-form of training grounds?” Gilgamesh frowned. “M-my primary attunement is fire, and I haven’t had too much practice.”
Yharon chuckled. “Then it seems you and I have another common thread. If you wish, I know of a place we can use to test ourselves in private. You need not fear scrutiny or mistakes there. Though I would not call them training grounds, per se, they will suffice for our needs.”
Gilgamesh nodded in return. A wave of Yharon’s wing conjured a portal with a ring of flames leading onto a barren mountain slope of rough-hewn rock with little foliage.
“After you. I promise, the flames will not hurt you. Given your affinity, they might even be pleasant.”
Gilgamesh hesitated before giving a nod and moving forward. True to the Dragon’s words, the passage was seamless and without any pain or unpleasant sensation. A few moments later, Yharon passed through carrying his notes and tools with him. His wings spread out, and a large magical circle spread from him to surround the pair and form a proper ring.
“There. That should suffice for our tests. After this assessment, I should have a better idea of where to begin with you.”
Gilgamesh nodded and held out his arms. After a few breaths, he focused on stimulating his magic, allowing a layer of it to become visible over his arms. The glow itself was a soft blue, and it almost seemed to flow around his talons.
“And is blue your natural aura?” Yharon questioned.
Gilgamesh nodded as he continued to focus on his magic.
“Very well. Then let us see just how well you can control it.” A merry orb of flame pulsed, bobbed, and spun in the air, conjured by the Dragon. “Fire loves to move, loves to dance. It is an element that embraces the value of all or nothing, consuming all it can until nothing is left, not even itself. Some may deem this a wicked trait, but to those of us whose nature is born of fire, we have a more intimate understanding.” He smiled. “Let us see just how deep your own understanding goes.”
Hammer Strike hummed to himself as he made his way across the castle toward the classroom provided to Clover. Having an open space in his schedule, he thought it best to finally get things settled on figuring out their family bloodline. Based on his estimates, Clover’s class would have just ended, which meant her schedule would be open as well.
As he entered the hallway leading to said classroom, he found a number of mages departing. Each stepped off to the side to allow him to pass. Upon entering the classroom, he noted a few familiar faces besides his wife. Twilight seemed to be gathering her notes and organizing them. Trixie happened to be off to the side with Vital assisting in tidying up the room. Beyond them stood a few straggling Unicorns taking their time departing.
“Hello, Hammer Strike,” Clover said over the fuss. “Sorry about the activity.”
“I planned to catch you just as you wrapped up your lesson.” Hammer Strike shook his head as he approached. “I figured I have some free time, and I thought we could use it to finally sort out the family tree, figure out where everything went.”
Clover nodded, her horn lighting as she moved several large desks and bookshelves aside to clear a large area. She levitated a small square of parchment forward and placed it down in the center of the space. It proceeded to unfold into a massive blank sheet of parchment that soon covered the entirety of the patch of floor. “This should be enough, I hope.”
“And I am suddenly reminded of two genius boys by the name of Phinneas and Ferb,” Vital Spark said as he approached the sheet. Then he smiled knowingly as he looked to his mentor and teacher. “I’m looking forward to this.”
Twilight strode forward and peered over the massive sheet. “There’s a spell that lets you create your family tree that easily?”
“Yes. However, it’s not a particularly useful one,” Clover stated. “It only works if you have the blood of the two progenitors of the bloodline you want to follow in liquid form. And it only works from that point forward.”
“So, you two are more the exception to the rule, thanks to all the time travel?” Twilight asked.
“Not entirely. It was invented at a time when Unicorns could boost their lifespans to a ridiculous point. So much, in fact, that it was easy to lose track of your progeny. The spell was made to keep … unpleasant accidents from happening,” Clover explained as she pricked her hoof with a needle. “It only reveals direct blood ties, so any mares or stallions that married into the line won’t appear.”
Hammer Strike, meanwhile, pulled a knife out of his coat to produce a drop of blood.
“So, how does the spell know who your descendants are?” Trixie asked.
“Essentially, it reverses genetic memory.” Clover took the needle and the knife in her magic and held them over the parchment. Two drops of blood slipped off and fell to the surface below. Then Clover produced a small pile of diamond dust and threw it on the parchment, followed by a bowl of ink from a giant squid and a small black pearl.
The pearl and the diamond dust burned away in blue flames as the ink globbed together, not even staining the parchment as the glob moved to the blood droplets. It swallowed them up, and for a moment, nothing happened. Then, slowly, the ink weaved across the parchment, leaving markings behind in its wake. Soon the names of Hammer Strike and Clover the Clever lay beside each other. A small branch bled down from that space. The name of Starlight Bulwark appeared. Beneath it, several branches developed listing various names, many of which gained still more. Numbers began appearing next to Ponies’ names, indicating dates of birth and death. It was apparent their descendants had a trend of either incredible longevity or surprisingly short lifespans. But few, if any, achieved the median.
Bloodlines were created and seemed to end. Yet no matter how bleak it seemed, a few branches always moved forward. Near the end of the parchment, the amount of names were so numerous the font had become exceptionally miniscule. Though between magically enhanced eyesight and mechanical eyes, both progenitors had no trouble reading the names. It was close to the end when the Sparkle name appeared, starting with Winter’s Twilight Sparkle.
Hammer Strike blinked a few times as he read over the name.
Then as Twilight Velvet Sparkle appeared, two other names drew Hammer Strike’s attention immediately. Bellerophon Lulamoon and Solstice Shimmer.
“Oh, that makes things really awkward,” Hammer Strike muttered.
Finally, the last line contained about fifty names listed. It seemed the current generation hadn’t produced any children yet. Much to Hammer Strike’s dismay, Sunset Shimmer and Beatrix Lulamoon, as well as Twilight Sparkle and Shining Armor shone prominently at the bottom of the page.
A heavy thunk heralded Trixie’s faint. Twilight’s eye twitched rapidly as her pupils shrank to tiny pin pricks and her body was overtaken by a series of twinges.
Hammer Strike looked up from the list to Trixie, then to Twilight, before settling his attention to Clover. “Interestingly enough, I can see Twilight.”
Clover looked at Twilight carefully, then turned to look at him with a raised brow. “Was I really that neurotic?”
“The bursting into flames part, amusing enough given my affinity.” Hammer Strike shrugged. “If I wanted to go the extra mile, I could mention how you were when we first met.”
“But you won’t,” Clover said in a very ‘end of conversation’ tone.
“Oh, I don’t need to. TARDIS beat me to it, anyway.”
Clover’s eye twitched at that comment.
“She didn’t show all of it,” Hammer Strike chuckled softly. “In any case, though…” He turned his attention to the others in the room.
“Okay,” Vital Spark began as he conjured a pillow to lay under Trixie’s head. “Twilight, I totally called beforehand. Trixie, however…. That one was a bit of a curveball,” he admitted. He chuckled nervously. “So, uh … I guess I’m part of the family now?”
“Yeah, that part makes things awkward.” Hammer Strike frowned in thought.
“Given the fact you’re one of my best friends and also my many-times-great-grandfather-in-law, yes, I’d definitely say so.”
“It’s already weird enough as is, given I’m thousands of years old.”
“We both are,” Clover pointed out.
“This won’t change our relationship as student and teacher/mentor, right?” Vital Spark asked Clover.
“You don’t have to impress me, if that's what you're worried about. You already did that,” Clover promised. However, there is the matter of the dowry,” she teased.
Vital facehoofed. “That’s going to be a headache and a half if Trixie’s folks come around.”
“Last I heard, weren’t they not a part of her life? I know Merasmus … was….” Hammer Strike looked over to the list once again. After some scanning, he found it, the name Merasmus Lulamoon. “Oh, son of a….” He sighed.
“Wasn’t that the crazy explody guy who came for their wedding?” Clover asked.
“Indeed, he was.” Hammer Strike rubbed the back of his head. “Still, not as bad as another one on the list.” He gave a brief shrug.
“Should I be worried about the amount of weirdos and evil people we seem to have unwittingly spawned?” Clover asked.
“Well, we’ve got Sunset on that list, and she’s kinda … stuck in another world at the moment, due to her being evil. Though that part is being dealt with.”
“Have you been keeping tabs on her, somehow?” Vital Spark asked.
“I probably should.” Hammer Strike frowned.
“Well, in case Trixie’s family does decide to drop in….” Clover struck Bellerophon Lulamoon’s name from the parchment with lighting. “We don’t need them in this family.”
“That, I can agree with,” Hammer Strike said. “We’ll have to look out for some other members within the tree, figure out where they all are.”
“I just have one thing to ask,” Vital said. “If they do try to come for Trixie, could you let me deal with them? I have a few things Clover’s taught me that I suddenly feel an overwhelming urge to try out on them.” He stared darkly at the patch, then looked back to his mate and smiled. “I’m just glad she turned out all right.”
“I don’t see an issue with that.” Hammer Strike nodded. “Handle it with great force. I don’t want them to return.”
“I’ll see to it,” Vital Spark promised as his horn sparked with energy.
Hammer Strike nodded before turning to Twilight. “Have you returned to the world of the living yet?”
Twilight rubbed her head as she worked to slowly smooth her frazzled mane. “That depends. Does the world of the living include an astral plane where I ended up having a direct talk with Harmony about this and how it tied into my connection with her and the Element of Magic?”
“He did say returned, Twilight,” Vital Spark nudged gently.
“Oh…. Then, yes, I suppose I have. It’s just … a lot to take in. Especially since that makes me wonder whether Shining might be able to ascend, too now.”
“Ex Divinia etiam, I hope not.” Hammer Strike sighed. “We have enough as is.”
“So, uh … who’s going to tell him and Cadence the news?” Vital asked.
Twilight chuckled nervously.
“Oh yeah, I didn’t think about that part,” Hammer Strike muttered. “That’ll make that meeting all the more interesting.”
“We’ll burn that bridge when we come to it,” Clover said. “For now, I think Vital should take Trixie somewhere to recover.”
“I can do that,” Vital said as he lifted Trixie in his magic. Then he furrowed his brow. “Clover, isn’t the phrase supposed to be we’ll burn that bridge when we cross it?”
“No, the original phrase was coined by Brigadier Bridge Burner, a very successful campaign general who was known for cutting off all means of escape before attacking.”
Vital Deadpanned. “I might have known.”
Consciousness slowly swam back into focus for Trixie as her eyelids fluttered. She was back in the room she shared with Vital, lying on their bed. “Huh?” she said groggily, looking around the room. “That was a weird dream.”
“Dream nothing. I got to watch the Great and Powerful wife pass out from shock.” Vital chuckled from his place by Aria’s perch, where the cryophoenix was enjoying her evening meal. “I brought dinner up from the mess hall. Figured you might be hungry after you woke up.” He motioned toward his work table, which had been cleared of its scrolls and books in favor of the large tray and platter that held a portion that would give even a Minotaur pause.
Slowly, she got to her hooves. “That was real?” she asked, still a bit dazed.
“Yup. Lady Trixie Lulamoon, it turns out you were a princess all along. You just didn’t know it.” He kissed her gently on the cheek. “You know, I want to say something really sappy and cliche right now, like I always knew you were, but then I’d be a liar, and we both know how much you hate those.” He chuckled, then nuzzled her. “But at least I can say that I’m glad to have gotten to know the real you, and I think that royal or not, you’re always going to be incredible.”
Trixie blushed at his words. “It’s just, I never knew my father's family beyond my grandfather. But I always thought we came from some horrible bloodline that only they could be proud of. Now I find out that I come from a family of Ponies I can never live up to.” She laid her head in her hooves. “It’s like I can’t win.”
“This coming from the mare that saved my life … how many times now? Oh, yes, and the life of her many greats grandmother who wouldn’t even be here today, were it not for you, and you literally earned the respect of your other ultimate progenitor by your actions and hard work here since. I’d call that a lot of wins,” Vital countered.
“Did you not see the names on that family tree?” she asked. “Some of them invented whole branches of magic. At least two of them won a war single-handedly with a game of cards. And Twilight Bucking Sparkle!” Trixie said. “She saved Equestria several times. I went from being the best of the worst to being the worst of the best!”
“Does that really matter if we’re happy? You messed up. You want to beat yourself up over it, judge yourself as harshly as you can, because you think you can never be that good, you can never reach the top of the hill.” Vital shrugged. “And maybe you won’t. I know I never did back home. All I ever did, all I ever could do, was try. It was one thing I learned, and it’s perhaps one of the most important lessons I’ll have taken with me from there. Beating yourself up constantly over your failures won’t make you better or fix your problems. It’ll just make you feel worse. So, I’m going to tell you the same words someone very important to me told me when I needed to hear them most.” He wrapped his hooves gently around her neck and whispered in her ears. “You need to put down the whip, honey.”
“I’m not sure I can,” Trixie admitted. “I’ve spent most of it being judged, by my family, by the people I perform for. We both know Clover judges me.”
“She criticises you, and she does it constructively. There’s a big difference between that and the kind of judgement you’re talking about.” He chuckled. “You should've heard what they had to say about you after you passed out. I don’t think you’d be feeling like this if you knew.”
It was at this moment that a knock sounded from the door. “Given the yelling I heard earlier, I would assume Trixie has gained consciousness again?” Hammer Strike questioned as he entered.
Trixie looked toward Hammer Strike, clearly unsure how to address him.
“I wouldn’t recommend trying to figure out a way to address our relationship to each other just yet. I find it complicated, myself. I would recommend keeping it as simple as possible.” Hammer Strike gave a brief chuckle. “You appear more lively than when you were in Clover’s classroom.”
“I—” Trixie took a deep breath. “I’m sorry,” she said.
“What for?” Hammer Strike raised a brow. “For being a descendant of Clover and myself? If so, I don’t see an issue.”
“How could you not?” she asked.
“You are implying that I have an issue with you, either through some incidents in the past or how you are in your present. Allow me to alleviate you of your concerns. Both myself and Clover do not see any issues with this. Your father, on the other hand … more than a little.”
“I already called dibs on kicking him out if he comes calling,” Vital added. “I’m all for making up, but based on what you’ve said, it doesn’t sound like he’s that type.”
“How can you just ignore what I’ve done?” Trixie asked.
“Let me paint a picture for you. Imagine an individual with no history in the world appearing one day. They found themselves a home and slowly expanded it, taking land that was never theirs to begin with. One day, the nearby nations took notice, slowly pushing back against this individual. What did that individual do? The individual pushed harder, gathering outcasts and thieves to build their numbers, and assassins to gather information. The individual gathered more and more until he fought against the nations, beating them and absorbing them under his rule. This individual made deals with devils, the creatures of the night. You name it, they did it. All of this and more, until one day, they had taken over all of the nearby nations, leaving them the center of power in the world.” Hammer Strike looked to Trixie. “Horrible, would you not agree?”
“What kind of horrible person could do all that?” Trixie asked.
“Me. I arrived in a land subjugated by wendigos and took claim over a small chunk of land. I was in a blind spot between the nations of the Earth Ponies, the Unicorns, and the Pegasi. They wanted my land, and I didn’t give it to them. I took in outcasts, thieves, assassins, anyone, and tied them to my will. The only thing that made it sound better was that it was never against their will. I was never the one to start a war, but I finished each and every one. I made deals with devils, gods, vampires, liches. If they existed, I made deals to ensure I could protect everyone. But from the outside … I was a dark lord who made deals with devils, who tied my citizens to my will.” Hammer Strike’s expression softened. “History paints me like a grand hero who has never done wrong, but I can assure you I am only mortal, and I’ve made many mistakes in my life.”
“That's … actually very comforting,” Trixie admitted.
Hammer Strike gave a soft smile. “That is why I don’t see anything wrong. You have tried your best to turn your life around, and I won’t be the one to turn you away.”
“I—” Trixie took a deep breath. “Thank you.”
Vital Spark hugged her. “Feeling better now?” he asked. “I’d hate to leave this romantic dinner I piled up to go to waste.”
“Yes,“ she said. “Much better. Thank you both.”
“Enjoy your meal, you two. And should any questions come up, you know where to find me.” Hammer Strike gave a nod as he turned to leave.
“Thank you, Hammer Strike. I know you technically already own this place, but … you’re always welcome here. If that makes sense.” Vital chuckled awkwardly.
Hammer Strike gave a soft chuckle, shook his head, and exited the room, closing the door behind him.
Hammer Strike stared blankly at the series of notes Grif had collected for him from the Alicorn Empire. While he was unable to gauge what they were about at the time, all he knew was that they involved him. To what extent, he didn’t know.
Now, however, he had called Grif to his office for a particularly important matter.
“Yeah?” Grif asked as he arrived. “Something wrong?”
“You remember those documents I left behind and you collected?” Hammer Strike questioned. “I was correct in thinking they involved me, but … I didn’t anticipate the first result.” He activated the tablet once more and slid it across his desk for Grif to look at. “Familiar?”
Before Grif sat an image of Gilgamesh.
“Why is Gilgamesh on here?” Grif asked. “I mean, the words mean nothing, but that picture is clear.”
“Specimen six, a hybrid of Gryphon and Pony DNA. Group six, subject eight, a Gryphon, in combination with group eight, subject twenty, Pony.” Hammer Strike looked up to Grif. “They were … attempting to create something just as powerful as myself while under their control.”
“So then, Gilgamesh is…?” Grif quirked an eyebrow questioningly.
“By genetics, he is my son, and his mother was a Gryphon captured in the war with the Gryphon empire. The project looks like it was automated, though with varying levels of success.” He read over the notes. “Gilgamesh was part of the automated systems attempts, number sixteen-thousand four-hundred-and-seventy-three.” He frowned. “I honestly stopped reading after seeing Gilgamesh, due to the surprise of it, but I’d rather you be here to discuss this with, rather than running it through my head alone.”
“They wouldn’t have stopped at Gryphons alone,” Grif said. “That's what you're worried about, isn’t it?”
“Yeah.” Hammer Strike rubbed the back of his neck. “I honestly forgot about this. I was told by Tempus about this program, but…” He sighed. “The only result I had heard about as a success was Luna. My genetics were added to her to work against the pre-programmed stuff they were trying to put inside her.”
“Wait, so Luna is actually your daughter?” Grif asked.
“Partially. I wasn’t a full replacement of a genetic origin. I was simply a counter addition,” Hammer Strike attempted to explain. “Technically, I suppose I am a biological father, but so was Tempus. It’s all honestly strange to think about, so I never really thought it through.”
“So how many other attempts did they make? Or did it stop with the success of Gilgamesh?”
“Considering we have a few additional tablets, I’m going with more…” Hammer Strike frowned as he grabbed the next one and activated it. After a few minutes of scanning it over, he frowned. “I swear we’ve seen him before.” He passed it over to Grif. “Recognize him?”
Before Grif was the image of a familiar Minotaur, one that he had interacted with, albeit … briefly.
“Yeah,” Grif said with a menacing growl. “I killed him in Labyrinthian.”
“Ah. That would explain it.” Hammer Strike hummed as he looked over the tablet. “Yeah, moved to the Stampede Grounds after reaching maturity. I suppose this does explain the level of strength he had.”
“Considering how hard that fight was, yeah.” Grif nodded. “Thank god he didn’t have magic like Gilgamesh does.”
“Indeed.” Hammer Strike nodded, grabbing the next tablet. He looked it over before raising a brow. “That’s … interesting. An attempt at altering a Dragon egg, resulting in the egg requiring an abnormal amount of magic to hatch. It was not distributed, but it was removed from its chamber.” He frowned as he continued reading. “By … an Alicorn of white coloration with the mark of the sun.” He blinked a few times. “Egg coloration was purple with spots of darker coloration along with it.”
“Well, that's going to be an awkward conversation with Spike.”
“If we’re positive it is Spike. Though knowing my luck, it probably is.” Hammer Strike frowned as he looked over the other tablets. “Zebra strain, failures so far. Yaks, failure. Kitsunes … unknown?” His frown deepened. “Alicorn, denied by council. Additional tests in question.” He sighed. “Looks like there might be more back at the island. This wasn’t all of the documents.”
“Should we go back and destroy that facility?” Grif asked.
“We’ve already disabled the system, thankfully. Though another visit will be in the future; just not yet.”
“So what happens now? Are you going to tell him?” Grif asked.
“I mean, it would clear up a lot of worries he may have. Everyone thought it was amnesia, but it looks like he … doesn’t have a past. The systems must have survived enough to release him and other subjects at designated points in time at environments that it deemed suitable for them.”
“And while Gilgamesh has never said it, that lack of a past clearly bothers him,” Grif said.
“I’ll have to bring it up the next time I see him. Followed by the next time I see Spike, or Twilight, and then have her bring Spike. I just need to make sure of it before I bring that up, however. Either through Celestia or by scanning him.”
“We’ll have to work it out.” Grif shrugged. “Seems like the kinda thing to handle with kiddy gloves.”
“Yeah…” Hammer Strike sighed. “Yeah.”
The room was an absolute mess. Bedding was scattered, pillows thrown in every possible direction. Somehow, a bedpost had made its way into the ceiling without actually breaking any of the stone. The very square nature of the room had been somehow corkscrewed to look almost like a twisting tunnel that shrank with every step toward one end, and one would not be surprised to find that to be the reality if they were to make such an attempt. After all, this was Cheshire. And for Cheshire, the rules rarely applied the same way as they did to others, especially not after the night she’d just had.
The Gryphoness purred contentedly as she nuzzled her mate and reveled in the warmth of his newly restored body. An honest-to-gods body! In all her wildest dreams, she never thought she would be allowed to see him again until death finally came for her. Well, after she led it on a merry chase, anyway. Where was the fun in just up and dying, after all?
Kel’leam rumbled gently in turn as his great arms wrapped around her and pulled her close to his chest and torso. “Did you really miss me that much?” he asked.
“Miss doesn’t even begin to describe it.” She sighed contentedly and basked in the afterglow.
“Missus might, though,” he teased as he nuzzled her in turn, then kissed her on the cheek.
“Mmm, so the male can be taught.”
Kel’leam smirked. “Would you like me to show you just how much I’ve learned?”
Cheshire raised a curious brow. “You have more to show after all this?” She motioned to the wreck of a room. “Just what have you been doing in that afterlife of yours?”
Kel’leam chuckled. “Why tell, when I could just show you?” he asked as he rumbled again.
“Ooh, are we going to be watching a puppet show? I love those! Here, let me set the stage!” A flash of light left them blinded for a moment. Then Kel’leam was standing on a wooden stage with strings stretching up out of his hands, paws, tail, and head.
“Discord, I really don’t—” Kel’leam’s beak began to creak as he rose onto his hind legs at the prompting of the strings and began to sing.
Cheshire laughed and clapped as the strings guided her beloved through an impassioned song guided by Discord’s Gryphon hand while the rest of him sat next to her and proffered a box full of fluffy white kernels.
“Popcorn, my dear?”
Cheshire seized the Draconequus by the muzzle and kissed him on the cheek. The music stopped. The strings snapped. And steam blew out Discord’s ears as the missing hand appeared sans the control bar and strings, instead bearing a fan that it waved separately in the air.
“Uncle, you spoil me,” Cheshire said with a broad grin.
“Uncle?” Kel’leam balked as he gazed at the spirit of chaos.
“An affectation, I assure you, Mister Bladefeather.” Discord rolled his eyes. “Honestly, I thought Cheshire would have taught you not to be such a stick in the mud by now. Didn’t you have at least a teensy bit of fun strutting on that stage?”
“Come now, Uncle. Don’t be so hard on him. He only just came back from the dead. You know how they can be a little stiff.” Cheshire smirked.
“Ah, what smooth delivery. Though I prefer devilry, myself. Welcome to the family, Kel’leam!” He laughed and poofed behind the Gryphon to embrace him with a sideling glance. “Oh, I can tell we’re going to be the very best of friends. Chaos get so boring when you don’t have a little harmony to play it off with.” He flicked Kel’leam’s beak, leaving it to wobble and vibrate like a spring, including the sound effect.
“Uncle’s been watching over my family for generations. He’s our guardian spirit, you know.”
Kel’leam frowned as he halted his beak’s vibration in a manner that shook his whole body cartoonishly. “That makes absolutely no sense, whatsoever.”
“Exactly,” Discord said smugly. “Hello! Spirit of chaos?” He curled himself in a spiral and shoved his face into Kel’leams, meeting his upside down head with Kel’leam’s right side up one. “Since when has sense ever been in my nature?”
“But you were imprisoned for over a thousand years!”
Discord waved a dismissive paw. “Oh, that? Please, for someone like me, that was just a little timeout. You wouldn’t believe the number of times my siblings and I had to go to the proverbial corner growing up. Why, we’d spend whole centuries taking turns being punished while the other played freely. Setting laws, exploiting loopholes. You know, the usual sibling rivalry. It was all quite fun, you know.”
“You call corrupting civilizations fun?”
Discord was suddenly much too close for comfort, and a menacing aura surrounded him as the cheerful red orbs hardened into slitted rubies that glowed with the hints of madness. “Now let me set one thing straight with you, nephew mine. Chaos is as chaos does. I am, or at least I used to be, neither inherently good or bad. I existed, and still exist, to push others forward, stretch boundaries, and otherwise encourage growth and change.
“Loopholes can help the downtrodden just as easily as they do the corrupt. One leak can destroy an assassination. One crack can burst a dam. I am a force of nature, little Gryphon, something to be respected. When that respect is forgotten, well, let’s just say there are consequences.” He leered at kel’eam. “As those Alicorns eventually found out firsthoof.” He chortled wickedly. “Ah, there’s nothing so satisfying as watching someone else reap the rewards of the chaos they sow all on their own. I just had to wait. And after they had their way with me, well, I decided I was bored and left them to their demise. But since I was so new to Equestria, well, I lost my bearings. Little Chesh’s ancestors found me and nursed me back to health. They helped me to understand what it means to have a body, to live as you do. That gave me a rather soft spot for your species.” The hardness softened as he stroked Cheshire’s head gently, having aparrated back to her side. “As thanks for their service to me, I gave them a gift, just a little something to show my appreciation. You’ve seen the results for yourself. Tell me, would you call this little bit of chaos evil, Kel’leam?”
“I….” Kel’leam gaped at his wife, then her patron. “I think I might need a drink.”
Discord chuckled as he snapped his fingers, presenting a variety of choices for alcohol from all the regions of the world, including a stein full of powerful dwarven spirits. “Good idea. I always find I have better luck explaining things when people aren’t sober. Then we can tell you how, exactly, I was able to watch over Cheshire and her family while I was still trapped in stone for all those years.” He eyed Kel’leam as the Gryphon took his first swig, and then his smile widened into a grin not unlike Chesh’s when she was about to play with her prey. “Tell me, how knowledgeable are you about temporal mechanics?”
“They appeared on our horizon fifteen minutes ago,” Grif explained to Hammer Strike. “They are one of the mercenary groups who refused to join, but aren't necessarily hostile. I have no idea what they want. I only know that they asked to meet you.”
“Quite strange, indeed.” Hammer Strike frowned. “I’ll assume the group is big enough to warrant me going out to them, rather than bring them in here?”
Grif nodded. “Yes. About sixty Gryphons in their current group. My intelligence says they have at least another forty out on jobs.”
Hammer Strike sighed as he placed his quill down and stood from his desk. “All right, then. Let’s see what they want, shall we?”
It didn’t take long for the two to reach the throne room. Hammer Strike sighed once more as he took a seat on his throne. “All right. Bring them in.”
Grif left the room and, a few minutes later, the doors opened wide, revealing a large array of Gryphons of different mixes and sizes. They all wore well-kept but old leather armor and carried a vast array of weapons. Each wore a single blue scarf tied around their left wrist that seemed to stand as the sign of their company.
The one who led them was an older male with the mixture of a jaguar and a merlin for his species. His coloring was faded and showed signs of graying while a patchwork of scars and missing fur showed the evidence of his experience. A large battle axe laid on his back.
“You are Hammer Strike?” he asked carefully. His voice was surprisingly deep. Unlike many Gryphons, the accent it carried held more of a Scandanavian tinge to it.
“Indeed, I am.” Hammer Strike finished a brief scan of the gathering and settled his gaze on the leader. “To what do I owe the pleasure of this meeting?”
“I am Grav’varr,” he said, “the current head of the Order of the Unbreakable. Long have we waited for you to resurface as you are.”
Hammer Strike raised a brow. “You’ve … waited for me?”
Grav’varr nodded as he reached into his bag and produced an ancient piece of parchment. “We all were born in the empire but consider ourselves the spiritual successors of those who lived under your rule. We have safeguarded texts and information long thought to be lost regarding you and your unbreakable will. You, who stood to see the Alicorns’ darkest day, and our own.” He handed over the parchment. When Hammer Strike unrolled it, the drawing was archaic but undeniably a rendering of himself. One which, according to his implants, was several thousand years old.
“Safeguarded it, even from your own?”
“The empire would have destroyed the truer accounts of who you were and what you accomplished. They would paint the Gryphon as just and you as evil. But we know the truth. We know what we did. And we know the mercy you showed us. We also know what happened to the Dragons.”
Hammer Strike looked over the gathering once more. “You even waited for my ‘recollection of self,’” he murmured, then gave a soft smirk. “I’ll be honest. I’m quite impressed, as is.”
“Our ancestors began the traditions we practice today, setting ourselves apart from the empire to practice tenets set by your example. Survive by any means you can. Shelter those who deserve it. Act with reason and be assured of your course of action. And most importantly, keep to your beliefs, even if you must be the villain to do it. Should someone strike you, give them a chance. Should they strike you a second time, set up your guard and be ready, but give them yet another chance. If they attempt to strike you yet again, send them to their gods and let them sort them out. Our beliefs made us unpopular with the people, and we were banished during the reign of the last emperor. We have come to you now seeking to serve as your warriors, if you are willing to bestow us that honor.”
Hammer Strike couldn’t help but let out a chuckle. “To think, I thought many things lost to the tides of time, yet here you all stand before me, carrying the weight of thousands of years upon your mantle.” His smirk widened. “Very well. I accept you all and welcome you to New Unity. Though the years haven’t been kind to it in my absence, it will return to its former splendor once more.”
Grav’varr bowed his head. “Thank you, Lord Hammer Strike. The Unbreakable are at your service and your service alone. We offer our weapons, our skills, and our lives. From this point on, your will is our duty. I swear this on the blood of my forefathers and my descendants.” The crowd behind him repeated the oath in chorus.
Hammer Strike stood from his throne. “Come, then. Let us look into some place of residence for you all.”
Grif sat before his desk and stared at the familiar apparatus. True to form, the chamber was kept in shadow, and the communication crystals hummed as he waited for the council members to appear. He checked his notes several times about recent news and current issues. Natural disasters and monster attacks were more adequately handled then ever. Organized crime, however, was starting to present a problem.
“This is the jack, joining the party,” a voice chimed in. “It seems I am the first to arrive at this meeting.”
It didn’t take long for the next to sign in. “This is Ten, ready to deal.”
A few moments later, the third projector activated. “Queen is on the table. Am I late?”
“No, we’re still waiting on the king,” Grif said. Several minutes later, the final panel came online.
“King has been dealt.” a voice spoke up moments later.
“Good. Now we’re all here. Before I go over my end, does the council have any news from their areas to go over?” Grif asked.
“None to share at this time,” Ten expressed.
“Me either,” Jack added.
“There are unusual disturbances in the region of the Crystal Empire,” Queen said. “No one has been hurt, but a distinct change has come over the structures. Some of the Ponies have grown uneasy.”
“Anything dangerous?” Grif asked.
“No, but the royal family can sense it. It’s not the usual magic the empire brings to bear. Whatever it is doesn’t appear to be malevolent just yet, but it is off-putting. I suppose the closest way to describe it is like a forgotten memory. You want to understand it, but it won’t quite show itself.”
“I see…” Grif rubbed his chin. “I’ll see if I can get any information later. For now, keep me posted on anything that happens.”
“Progress on our side is going well,” King spoke up. “Both the military and industrial progress is moving along smoothly. We predict full deployment within the month and a full advertising campaign in time for Hearth’s Warming.”
“That's good to hear, King. I’m sure that will make many kids very happy.” Grif chuckled. “Now, on to official business. I am pleased to report monster attacks and natural disaster damage is currently at an all time low.”
“And our mutual enemy?” Queen asked. A hint of bite had crept into her voice.
“I have not been able to get a lead on him yet. However, my sources are still working on it.” he answered. “There is, however, another issue that needs to be looked into, I fear.”
“And that is?”
“A new head has arisen for the organized crime syndicates in Equestria. We don’t entirely know who he is yet, but he has all the various groups in a stranglehold. According to some interrogation reports, they’ve been unable to stop his rise, and the last seven attempts to assassinate him just failed outright.”
“Against your best?” Queen asked, surprised. “That is concerning.”
“I’ve authorized extra resources. However, I think if it isn’t dealt with soon, I may have to get involved personally,” Grif explained.
“Have you considered utilizing Jack to assist?” Ten asked.
“If it becomes necessary. Though I believe that's best left as a final resort,” Jack stated. “There is always a chance of someone noticing my presence.”
“I’ll do my best to keep things running on my end. Speaking of which, did you have anything in particular that you needed researched, Ace?” Ten asked.
“Not as of yet, but I will keep you posted. Now, is there any other business?” he asked.
“I have nothing more to report at the moment,” Ten said.
“Not at this time,” Queen said.
“Everything is clear,” Jack agreed.
“We are fine.” King added.
“Very well. You’ll receive plans for the next meeting in due time. For now, I have orders to dole out. Until next time.” With that, Grif hit the switch, turning off the communicator. He took a few minutes to collect himself before switching out the blue crystals for the green and beginning the next communication.
The flash of curved steel was complemented by the great whirling of broad hooves as the Horses of Saddle Arabia worked with their curved sabers to spear, hook, jab, slice, and otherwise dance around the training dummies to do battle with their makeshift adversaries. Akhmed stared grimly at his unit as they continued to fight. Many had danced this dance for years. The sultan would expect nothing less of the force sent to pay the debt of their family to the great Djinn of Fire. But even old hands could grow clumsy without the application of practice. And with the number of other troops and races present, they knew they would need to perform at their very best, especially with that shapeshifting she-witch of the wastes.
“Put your backs into it!” Akhmed shouted. “Show them the pride of the desert!” He easily tore a shield from its dummy’s grip and sliced through the wood where a joint for a hand or hoof would have been.
Blast and Tower Shield were used to unusual figures in New Unity. The eclectic nature of the city’s growing population had made them used to most things, or so they believed, until they found themselves leading the massive Gryphon that had recently sworn his loyalty to Hammer Strike around and showing him the fortress and the grounds.
“Akhmed is the leader of our lord's Horse cavaliers,” Blast explained.
“They handle rapid strikes in the enemy formations from the flank or the back if they can,” Tower added.
“I see.” Grav’var nodded. “It is very impressive, keep your enemy on his toes.”
“That's generally how it works.” Blast nodded. “The general forces are split into three groups, each overseen by a different head. Grif keeps his group particularly well exercised.” He chuckled.
“Whether they like it or not,” Tower added, smirking.
“That is the leader of the Gryphon clan, yes?” Grav’var clarified. “Those Bladefeathers?”
“Yes. Grif leads the Bladefeathers, but has also attached himself fully to his Rohirrim, as he calls them. He hopes to make them into ideal shock troops.”
“The records hold stories about the mass of species Hammer Strike managed to bring together, but to see it in person is strange. A good strange, though.” The Gryphon laughed. “So, all three of these groups answer to you, and you answer to Hammer Strike?”
“That's correct,” Tower Shield said. “However, the Thestrals and the Bladefeathers answer to their own individual heads that answer to Hammer Strike directly. Also, the mage corps is pretty much entirely run by Clover, who … technically answers to Hammer Strike?”
“Technically?” Grav’var asked.
“Well, we’ve never seen him actually give her direct orders. He just kind of trusts her to act accordingly. He does that with a lot of people, actually.” Blast laughed.
“The records mentioned this Clover before. It does seem best to leave her to her devices.” Grav’var nodded. “Then I and my forces shall take the vanguard, the strong frontal line, to break the enemy's confidence,” he declared.
“We know someone you probably will want to meet, then.” Tower laughed. “Come on.”
The ring of heavy blows and splintering wood rang through the air as a cluster of training dummies were dispatched one by one with brutal efficiency. The great brute’s broad black shoulders shone with the lather of a proper session, and his hammer sang while the rooty tendrils that composed his mane curled into a knot behind him to keep from getting in the way. He bellowed as he finished crushing the last one to the ground, then turned to face the newcomers with a broad bovine grin.
“Blast, Tower!” he greeted effusively. “What brings you here?” His gaze fell on the Gryphon. “And who’s your guest?”
The large Gryphon stiffened a bit as he looked at Big Guns.
“This is Grav’var. He’s a mercenary captain working for Hammer Strike,” Blast explained.
“I thought the mercenaries worked for Grif,” Big Guns noted as his brow knit in confusion.
“There were a few groups who refused to join him. According to our briefing, Grav’var here is from one of those groups,” Tower added.
Big Guns thrust out his massive open hand. “Then that’ll make us partners of a sort.” He chuckled. “Welcome to the herd. The name’s Big Guns.”
The Gryphon slowly offered his talons. “Grav’var, leader of the Order of the Unbreakable.”
“You going to be staying with us long?” Big Guns asked as he shook the Gryphon’s hand.
“My group is currently on extended contract. So barring any surprises, yes.”
Big Guns grinned. “Good. I haven’t had the chance to spar with many Gryphons yet. Most of my training was with Iron Will after Thalia rescued me. It’ll be nice to learn some new combat styles.”
“Grav’var has decided to take up the vanguard,” Blast explained. “The front line combatants.”
Big Guns’ tail twitched. “You mean that you’ll get to smash all those big troops?”
“We’ll break whatever lines are put before us,” Grav’var stated proudly. “We are the unbreakable.”
An indecipherable bellow was soon followed by, “I’m so jealous. They wouldn’t let me join the main fights before. I mean, I was still learning how to fight, so I guess I get why, but, well, I’m kind of a Minotaur. We want to fight….” A heavy blush rose in the bull’s cheeks, something the Gryphon had never seen before in the species.
Grav’vars face broke into a small smile. “After we’ve settled in, come and see me. We’ll see just what you're capable of.”
Big Guns grinned. “And maybe I’ll get to see what you are, too.”
The tavern-like structure stretched up into two floors. Inside, the atmosphere was close-knit, designed for an intimate setting. The booths were a dark red, and an old-fashioned counter stretched to divide a small kitchen and a vast collection of coffee beans that lay within a series of glass jars on the shelves. A set of stairs on the far end led out of sight to the loft above, where the owner probably had his living quarters. The scent of rich spices and roasted coffee grounds blended together in a harmonious symphony of smells that tickled the palate and incited a desire for more.
At the moment, two Thestrals sat staring across a table at each other. One was white with a blond mane, the other a deep blue with a bright white mane. Two cups sat before them, one with rich dark coffee, the other with tea steaming in front of them. Night Terror stirred her coffee slowly, watching the clouds of cream blend into the coffee to help cut the bitterness down like a fortune teller seeking the future.
“Thank you,” she finally started, “for taking me here.” She looked guiltily to the side. “I just … needed something different than the classes and the hunts. I want to learn about my family’s past and how it’s a part of me, but I don’t want to make it all of me.”
“That makes sense.” Pensword nodded gravely. “We are the sum of both our parents and both our pasts. I am … sorry that we neglected this side of your culture.” He sighed. “I suppose my age is showing a little.”
A hint of a smile pulled at Night Terror’s lips. “You still have better manners than most of the nobles I’ve served. You actually take the time to listen to me.”
“And that is from how I was raised.” A brief moment of sorrow passed his eyes, “And how I was trained. A poor commander is one who won’t take in all sides.” He shook his mane and nickered uncomfortably. “But we are not here to talk about war or training. I am here to court you, and to give you some advice so you don’t go sending any other Thestral stallions the wrong message.” A hint of a smile pulled at the corners of his lips.
Night Terror groaned. “I’m never going to live that down, am I?”
“We all have things like that in our lives. All we can do is take it, own it, and laugh about it.”
“And dare I ask for one of yours?”
Pensword leaned back and slowly sipped his tea, as he pondered the request. “When I was a foal, a few Ponies joked they’d never bring me into a forest again because every time I joined them, we would always encounter a bear.” He chuckled. “It became a sort of family tradition.”
“I … don’t exactly see how that’s supposed to be embarrassing, but I suppose we each have our own triggers,” the mare mused. Then she sighed again. “Do you really think we’ll be able to make this work, Pensword? I mean, really work. I know tradition demands it, but … do you really think we’ll be able to fall in love?”
“Regarding the first part of your response, try hearing the same thing over and over again. It gets old fast. As for the other stories, they’re not for polite public discourse. And for making this work? We have five years. If you or I feel it isn’t working after that, and giving birth to a foal, we can divorce. It is rarely invoked, but it is an option, should you feel the need to take it.”
“I have to get pregnant?”
“Well, that does usually happen after marriage.” Pensword smiled gently, finding it a little humorous his human memories left him feeling somewhat squeamish about it. “But the foal is going to be yours, no matter what happens. You’ll be able to raise him or her as you see fit, and I would make sure you both are taken care of, in the event that you want to end things.”
“Promise not to push it?” she asked.
“You have my word.” Pensword took another sip of tea as the brown Pony that ran the establishment placed two extra large bowls in front of them, both laden with extra chunks of meat and sauce.
“Sounds like you two have some journey ahead,” the stallion remarked with a soft smirk before moving back to his spot behind the counter.
“Here’s hoping it’s a good one,” Night Terror said, then took an experimental bite of the dish. Her eyes widened in surprise as her pupils narrowed to slits. “Oh my goddess,” she swore.
Pensword chuckled as he stabbed his fork in for a bite of his own. When he finally consumed it, his eyes widened as he slowly chewed and savored the flavor. “This reminds me of my first meal in modern day Equestria.”
Night Terror raised a skeptical brow. “You had curry for your first meal?”
“The flavor, just … how alive it all felt. I knew I had good food in the field, but it felt like another world, almost, if you catch my meaning.”
“You know, one of these days, you’re going to have to show me some of those old dishes,” she said. “I bet we don’t have nearly so many of those recipes here. Perhaps … we could make it a date night?”
“If you don’t mind sharing with Lunar Fang and Fox Feather.”
“And Moon River?”
“She’ll be either with Uncle Grif, Uncle Vital, or Uncle Strike.”
“I can’t guarantee I’ll be fully relaxed, but I’m willing to give it a shot.”
“Of course. I can understand. I’ll show you where the recipe file is when we get back to the castle, so you can look through it for something you might like to try.”
Night Terror smiled softly. “I’d like that.”
Luna sat in a simple stone chair in the center of the room. High above them, the full moon shone brightly, though none of them could see it under the thick stone ceiling of the cavern. Luna sat in her ursa bone armor, sans helmet, with a cape made from the shed fur of her ursa minor, who sat sleeping outside the cavern’s hidden entrance. She was every inch a barbarian queen. Her war hammer rested between her hooves with the head against the ground. All around her, the chieftains arranged themselves in preparation for the coming discussion.
Pensword sat at one of the guest spots under the Bear Tribe’s banner. The symbol of his clan had been planted among the other honorary banners that each of the clans had gained as a result of their ascension to noble status under Equestrian law. A sheaf of papers laid by his side awaiting presentation on the settlement’s progress and development ranging from integration to economy and more. Another Thestral from Dream City waited at his side with her own report to present to the council.
“Here’s the projections for construction, mining, shipping, and maintenance costs. The list of qualified technicians should be ready to arrive in New Unity within the week, along with any remaining surveys and data.”
Pensword smiled and nodded as he looked over the papers. After all this time, it was finally starting to come together. This would be a boon for Thestral Industries, assuming he could get enough backing to launch the venture properly.
The seven chieftains each laid their tomahawks before the throne in a circle and bowed their heads in respect toward their ruler. With a mighty ring, Luna knocked her hammer against the cave floor three times. The High Chieftess had called for their attention, and they would listen, as was their duty.
“Good evening, my faithful warriors,” Luna said, acknowledging them. “Before we begin anything else tonight, I feel there is an important matter that must be attended to.”
“You have our ears and our oaths, as always, Chieftess,” the Wolf Clan chieftain said with the bow of his head. The great wolf pelt that he wore left him looking more like the creature his people revered than the Thestral warrior he was, but the wisdom of that beast shone in his golden gaze.
“It isn’t me who requires them,” Luna commented. “Lord Hammer Strike, I surrender the floor to you.”
Hammer Strike proceeded to step forward into the room. As he passed from shadow into light, the typical deep blue and gold along his coat rippled, and like sunset giving way to night, the galaxies formed to reveal the fur of the Ursa Supremus. On his back was Astral Abyss. “It’s been awhile since I had to do something like this.” He gave a brief chuckle. “Given that I have returned, I believed it best to reacquaint myself with how things have progressed in my absence.”
The chamber rang with the gasps that escaped as one body from the gathering at the sight of the coat. The chieftains themselves gaped not only at the jacket, but the great weapon that laid upon Hammer Strike’s back, and the seven black tokens symbolic of the debt a tribe owed.
“What … is that?” the Viper chief finally managed to ask. Her form was lithe, and a series of scale markings had been intricately tattooed around her eyes as she pointed a trembling hoof at the coat.
“My coat, having been added onto with the fur of the only Ursa Supremus to exist,” Hammer Strike replied simply. “Followed by,” he reached up, taking the greatsword off his back before planting it into the ground in front of him, ensuring the tokens were visible. “My authority.”
The cave filled with the babbling rush of whispers that reverberated over and over as those who were present in the cave to witness the meeting spoke among themselves. At last, the lion’s roar reverberated through the chamber, and the chief then turned his gaze on Luna. “Chieftess, please, explain.”
“What is to be explained?” she asked. “He has the coat and the sword made from the bone of the fallen god. He is the original bearer of the great bear. What confuses you?”
“His drastic change, for one. There can be little doubt what he wields. There is only one sword to ever bear our tokens thus. But how did he come to be as he now is? And .. where does that leave our people now?”
“To explain the drastic change,” Hammer Strike spoke up, “the simplest way I can put it is that I was scattered about time. I was always around when needed, but it was never the end result of myself. I left behind this blade in a space where, even if found, it couldn’t be removed. The weight of this blade alone is too much for even my daughters to wield.” He couldn’t help but give a small smirk. “Though, they doubtless tried.”
Luna refused to meet his gaze. He could tell she was blushing.
Pensword was still trying to wrap his head around it. Though he knew Hammer Strike to be their first true High Chief, the one to unite their people as never before, the sight of the legendary sword that had forged that unity and commanded their respect even now left him giddy.
“Then it is clear to me that we have our path laid for us,” the Bear chief said as she knelt toward Hammer Strike. “You hold the right, and you claim what is your own. What would you have of your people, High Chief Hammer Strike?”
“Much like I said in the past, I would not have any drastic changes come to pass, unless it is for the betterment of my people. For now, I have much to reclaim and work on, so I will still leave my daughter to watch over and assist where needed.” He sighed. “But I do come with more than just the task of taking my position back. I come with a name, a name long forgotten due to faith being placed within the Ursa Supremus, the ‘fallen god,’ as some have put it. I come with the name of the goddess who created Thestrals.”
The whole of the cavern drew its breath as one body and held it in a mixture of shock, disbelief, and anticipation. Pensword’s wings flung wide as his body vibrated with excitement. It took everything he had to bite back the squeal that threatened to creep from his throat.
“That name has not been spoken since the age of Fog,” the Fox chieftain said. “You have spoken with her?”
“Indeed. Though she’s significantly weakened, due to her name having been lost to time.” Hammer Strike sighed. “Let it be known, and ensure it is spread. The goddess watching over and waiting, her name is Bonnie.”
The room was silent but all felt a chill run up their spines as the power behind the name became palpable.
“I would recommend it not be lost to time, nor false god, again.” Hammer Strike looked over those gathered. “She wasn’t happy about that one.”
“We’ll … have to do our best to ensure it doesn’t, then,” the Manticore chieftess spoke.
“Unless there is more important business, perhaps we should adjourn early, so this news can be spread?” Luna suggested.
“If there is nothing of importance, then I would agree with that.” Hammer Strike took one last glance over all gathered. With the majority remaining silent, he nodded. “Then let this meeting come to a close. Should anything require my attention, you may direct them to Luna or find me in New Unity,” he commented before removing his blade and turning toward the exit.
“Were the theatrics necessary?” a familiar voice asked.
Hammer Strike glanced at Bonnie and scanned around the room as he moved. “Of course. A proper buildup is always needed for major news. Otherwise, it would be taken with less severity. I’ll assume this is already helping?”
“I’m feeling much better already, yes.” Her body was far less faded, and she looked more energetic than she had last time.
“Good. It should only get better as time goes on.” Hammer Strike gave a soft smile. “Two objectives covered in one meeting, though the concept feels slightly amusing.”
“Considering how most meetings among morals seem to get two less tasks accomplished in more than triple the time, that's not surprising.”
“I mean more the sense of this. By technicality, you are their creator, and here I am, leading them and restoring your name to them.”
“My daughter created them first, and look how that turned out.”
“In the end, this whole situation is amusing and strange at the same time. Though, oddly enough, not unpleasant.”
“What do you mean?”
“While I find the nature of meeting between myself and gods an absolutely dreadful experience, meetings with you don’t feel that way. Even with Faust, I admittedly have my anxieties, though that may be partially tied to the whole Dragon incident. Slephnir, in all honesty, terrifies me due to his presence alone against me. But while you have your share of power, my feelings of anxiety are diminished.”
“Honesty, I find, can make communication far easier. I do not play games with you as Sleipnir does. Perhaps that is the difference?”
“That probably would be it.” Hammer Strike hummed in thought. “You’re drastically more direct in what you mean, and don’t remark facts about having to potentially kill me.”
“What is the purpose of the threat? I know I can kill you. You know I can kill you. Reminding you of it seems more of a hindrance than a help.” She shrugged. “Sleipnir takes too much after his mother.”
Hammer Strike took a moment as he thought it over. “That would be … Loki. Interesting enough, wouldn’t it?”
Bonnie laughed. “Yes, and he finds the subject so awkward he freezes up every time someone mentions it,” she told him with a wink.
“I’ll keep that in mind, and at the same time, question if I’ll ever need to know that.”
“You never know when you’ll need him to shut up,” she said. “But either way, I need to go.”
“Enjoy the newfound faith.” Hammer Strike chuckled.
“Thank you,” were her last words before vanishing.
The reception hall in the inn was decked in navy-blue banners trimmed with silver as various portrayals of the moon in all its forms and phases hung from the rafters. Trophies had been mounted on each of the walls in the form of deer, boars, a bear, and other displays such as ceremonial weapons designed for decoration but equally functional for combat in a pinch. Enchanted lanterns bobbed with blue flames that cast light over the otherwise darkened room. As an added precaution, the blinds over the windows remained closed to prevent any prying eyes from peering through to the event that was to follow.
Pensword sat at the head table while young Cristo stood at the ready by a slide projector to do his part. So far, only the single Gryphon and the Thestral representatives from Dream City were present. Filthy Rich arrived shortly afterward. Now it was a matter of waiting for the other potential investors to arrive.
A familiar gray Unicorn mare with a white-and-purple-streaked mane peeked her head through the door. A set of pearls curled around her neck as she stepped hesitantly into the room. “Am I late? Did I miss it?”
“You’re early, actually,” Pensword answered as he walked up to the mare. “A pleasure to see you again, Mrs. Velvet.
“And you, Pensword. Twilight’s told me a lot about the goings on in New Unity. I’m glad to hear things have been going so well over there.”
“Indeed,” Pensword agreed. “I’m hoping to bring some of that prosperity to other parts of Equestria as well.” He used a wing to indicate a nearby table, where a series of sandwiches and other treats had been set up for the guests. “Please, enjoy some of the snacks and settle in.”
Twilight Velvet nodded. “I’m looking forward to the presentation.” And then she was gone to join Filthy by the table for a proper discussion.
“I say, now isn’t this an adventure?” The tone of voice was unmistakable, though the green stallion from whose mouth it emanated was most certainly not the Fancy Pants Pensword remembered. A few moments later, the glamour over his body wavered to reveal the familiar bright white coat and carefully coiffed blue mane. His suit was freshly tailored, and his trademark monocle sat on its perch over his left eye as he took in the sight of the room.
"Bonjour, mes ami,” the tall stunning Unicorn that was Fleur greeted, smiling widely at everyone.
Pensword smiled and warmly welcomed both of them to the meeting, then guided them to the tables where they could socialize and pick their seats. Among the other investors, the Oranges had come all the way from Manehattan. A number of sundry nobles among the Pegasi and Unicorns also arrived, each bearing their invitations. In total, the small group numbered at fourteen. But what they lacked in numbers, they more than made up for in the quality of the entities present, both for their social standing and the financial means at their disposal.
Pensword let the group chat among themselves for about ten Minutes as tea and coffee was set out and they got settled back in with their drinks. Finally, the stallion looked over at Cristo and nodded. Cristo acted immediately, standing up and placing folders in front of every seat. Pensword smiled as he triggered the magic in the room to dim and brighten the lights, causing the investors to take their seats and open the folders
“As some of you have already been told, what I am about to show you here is something that cannot leave the room. What you see is a boilerplate NDA, with a few tweaks from Princess Luna to prevent even dreams about this meeting. If you wouldn’t mind signing.”
The group signed casually, a fair indication that these kinds of proceedings were not unknown to them. He waited for the last scrawl of the pens to finish before dimming the lights to the proper level.
“Once again, I welcome you all to this gathering. Now that we’ve had the chance to get to know one another and partake in refreshments, it’s time we get to the main event. I know you all have busy schedules, and I would hate to keep you waiting any longer than absolutely necessary. So, without further ado, let’s begin.” He nodded to his adopted son, who placed the first slide into the projector to reveal a picture of the Canterlot railway stretching in a line from a great height.
“Just to let you all know, every one of you here share something in common already.” Certain members of the gathering murmured between the colleagues they were already familiar with. “You all deal with transporting goods that are time sensitive. From oranges and other citrus.” He nodded toward the Oranges. “To ice.” He nodded at a Pegasus on the other end of the table. “And a multitude of other perishable goods.” He nodded at Cristo, who put in the next slide, revealing a chart portraying the statistical facts behind standard rail travel ranging from loading time to transportation to efficiency and percentage of preservation.
“This is the essential Canterlot to Baltimare line with a refuel in Ponyville and track change from narrow gauge to standard gauge. That is time. And it is one reason why Ponyville gets so many goods from Canterlot so readily. While the town is small, it is the staging grounds in a vital operation.”
The next three slides showed the Nina, Pinta, and Santa Maria. The fourth showed an artist's rendering of them docked in the custom docks the Thestrals were expanding to accommodate the vessels in the commercial district of Dream City, followed by the docks at New Unity. “I am offering you a small slice of a new company that will utilize Gryphon airships for purposes of transportation. While I do not have access to the technology itself, I do have access to the ships, and thus their speed. As you all know, Blue Skies Transportation, a company owned by a cadet branch of House Blueblood, has a large scale chunk of the airship transport contracts in Equestria. As some of you may be aware, the cargo holds of their largest cargo ship, the Royal Sunset, can carry about six tons of goods.” Pensword smiled as he moved on to one of the key points in the presentation. “The Nina, my smallest vessel, can carry up to eleven tons of extra cargo outside of the supplies needed to run the ship. The Pinta can carry fourteen tons, and the Santa Maria can carry eighteen tons. With these three airships, we can carry more cargo than half of the Blue Skies fleet combined. And with greater speed of delivery combined with the efficiency of travel, you have the makings of a powerful competitor. Unlike the balloons, it won’t rely on Unicorn magic or Pegasus weather manipulation to reach its destination.”
Cristo transitioned the slide to an artist’s rendition of the cargo holds while Pensword continued his pitch.
“Each of these ships include one refrigeration section meant for soldier rations that can be converted for eggs, milk, chese, oranges, ice, ice cream, and other things needed to be kept at a chilly temperature. These Gryphon ships were designed to carry souls and supplies for campaigns that we currently do not need. Of course, if times of war should come, and Equestria require my ships’ services, we will implement a rotating recall to avoid causing disruption of supply chains.”
He smiled as the next slide came into view. “As for anti-pirate protections, as many foals and some grownups have cried out, the threat of air pirates may rise. I am proud to report that all three vessels can boast the latest in anti piracy techniques and technology. The Santa Maria already withstood a full-scale swarm from Chrysalis without crashing or even being breeched. With us, the safe and efficient transport of goods, both yours and others, is guaranteed to hold to a higher standard than Blue Skies could ever hope to offer.”
The audience laughed, and Pensword turned to see Cristo had added his own image here, a somewhat crude drawing of the Santa Maria shooting down an Equestrian air pirate ship.
Pensword smiled as he turned to face the investors. “Seeing as this venture is designed to grant the fondest wish of individuals such as yourselves, we have decided to name our corporation Shooting Star Express.” The lights came up as the projector shut down, and he nodded toward the crowd. “It is my sincere hope that you will have found merit in this proposition, and that you would be willing to join with me in this venture. Now that the primary presentation is complete, I would dedicate the remainder of our time to open the floor for any questions you all might have for me.”
“You mention efficiency and cargo capacity, but you said nothing about potential costs,” Filthy noted. “Just how much money are we talking about investing here?” the Earth Pony asked.
“That all depends on how much you wish to invest. The total project will cost about twenty-eight million bits. This includes the cost of buying space to build or renovate a Gryphon-sized dock here in Canterlot; rent said docks for our private use from Canterlot, Dream City, and New Unity; pay the cost of maintenance performed by qualified technicians; and ensure that crew and others are properly compensated for their time and services. There are also plans to incorporate more effective cargo hatches, and there is potential for the construction of a fourth airship. It all depends on the capital.”
“And the time it would take to turn a proper profit?”
“Based on a worst case scenario economy, three years to break even. Four to really start seeing a profit.”
“What sort of security are you offering?” The Bladefeather rep asked.
“For the first two years, we intend to use either non-Bladefeather Gryphons or Thestral warriors, with my adopted Gryphon children guarding the guts of the ship. Rest assured that while I call them children, each has proven themselves time and again in active combat against Changelings, a coup attempt, and other opposition. They are well seasoned, well qualified, and have earned the title of warrior.” He smiled. “As for investment security, the collateral will be a gem mine to the north of Dream City under House Pen’s management. If this venture fails, the investors will get equal shares, with house Pen keeping only five percent to be used to pay for maintenance and upkeep.”
“And I assume this mine is prosperous?” Fancy Pants asked. “Around how much output does this mine of yours demonstrate?”
Pensword looked at the group. “Please keep in mind that this information is considered sensitive, and is protected under the Non Disclosure document you all signed. This is a Dragon Class mine, capable of producing gems fit for Dragon consumption and mid-tier magical potential at a minimum. The latest excavations indicate we’ve only begun to scratch the surface of the mine’s potential. Current projections based on outside scans and expert surveyance reveal that even if production were to double, there would be enough raw material to last for another hundred years at least.” He smiled. “And if we were to bring in gem and rock farmers on a consultancy basis, that estimate can easily be extended.”
“So, this stake would ultimately yield profitability that could easily last into the next generation,” Fancy pants mused. “A tempting offer, indeed.”
“And have you already laid out the groundwork for these technicians?” Fleur asked. “I cannot speak for the others, but I, for one, would prefer to know the reliability of whomever we rely on to service the vessels in this venture. If we are to invest, it is only fair that we have a say in which technicians we ultimately settle upon, non?”
“Our choices are severely limited at the moment,” Pensword answered. “Gryphons guard their technology zealously, and they do not take kindly to others owning it. I intend to make some inquiries with the organization the Bladefeather Clan has called upon. If they can handle a ship as large as the Gantrithor, I have every confidence that they will be able to service our ships just as easily, and more importantly efficiently.”
“And do you have a representative to speak with these technicians on your behalf?” Twilight Velvet asked. “Given your unique history, I would assume there is a certain amount of bias that would be involved, were you to handle the negotiations yourself.”
Pensword nodded. “Yes, I do. To protect the individual, I will not be naming him or her here at this meeting.”
“Do you at least have a resume that you can share with us?”
“In the packets that were included with your folders. Dates and names have been restricted, again to protect identity. However, you have my word of honor as a duke and a loyal subject of Equestria that each of these events has been properly reviewed and verified prior to this presentation.”
“You mentioned that they can boast the best defensive measures,” Money Bags noted. “Does this mean our money will also be going toward purchasing and mounting weaponry for these vessels, as well as the implicit requirement of paying to stock munitions?”
“We are arming them to the letter of the law to protect against pirate raids. Since these ships are already outfitted with Gryphon Weapons, it’s not so much a matter of finding new weapons as it is a matter of toning down our current firepower. They will maintain the ability to be converted back and forth between military grade and civilian grade as necessary, in case of invasion. As for stocking munitions and the like, Clan Pen will be handling weapon upgrades and utilities as needed, as well as keeping munitions stocked. You need only focus on paying for the civilian parts of this venture.”
“So, you didn’t come here expecting us to shovel out twenty eight million bits right now. How much are you looking to get now, and what share value is it worth to you?” the Bladefeather rep asked.
“Two and a half million spread amongst you all, with a proportion of what you donate equaling a percentage of combined ownership equaling up to 45% of the company’s worth.
Gladmane, an Earth Pony from Las Pegasus with a tall pompadour and a sparkling cape with a custom suit, had been sitting silently this entire time. Now he seemed put off. “You want to keep the business to yourself? Why not let it go to the ones that put the most investment in and hard work?”
Pensword stared flatly at the Pony. “Because in the past, behavior, especially with some of the nobles, leaned toward stripping businesses from their rightful owners and phasing Thestrals out. I’ve consulted with many Thestrals who’ve experienced this treatment in the modern day as well. This venture is not just for myself or my clan. It’s designed to help show that Thestrals are able to thrive on their own without needing charity or a guiding hoof.”
Gladmane shook his head. “That seems pretty biased, friend. Not very good business sense.”
“To you, maybe not. But I want to show that Thestrals have the means to show they can run businesses well. Do you know how many Thestrals own or run large businesses?”
“No, I can’t say that I do,” Gladmane admitted.
Pensword smiled as he looked to the rest of the group. “Anypony here? Does anypony happen to know this answer?”
The room was silent.
“Then I would encourage you to research the topic as you consider the offer. Regardless, the offering will remain the same. Please, let me know how many shares you wish to purchase when you send your final answer. You’ll find the individual value of each share listed in the paperwork.”
“Well, then,” the Bladefeather representative said, “I will take this before the council and make my suggestions. You’ll receive an offer from our end in a standard business week.”
“And you’ll be hearing from us after we have the time to review our options,” Fancy Pants promised. “Though it may take us longer than a business week with our recent schedules. Out of curiosity, how long will this offering remain open before we miss the window of opportunity?”
“Two business weeks. If I don’t hear from you by then, I will assume you’re not interested and move on.” He peered around the gathering one more time, then nodded. “With that being said, I believe we’re at the point for adjournment. Thank you, everypony, for coming. I look forward to hearing from you in the near future. If you’re of a mind, feel free to stay and socialize before you depart.” With that, he bowed and began to collect the disclosure agreements.
Though it took longer than he would have hoped for, Hammer Strike was put at ease when everything was finally prepared for Anderson’s funeral. The priest was prepared, the body dealt with, and everything was in order. It would be a small service, but it was the least they could do for the Gryphon.
Yharon, Celestia, Luna, Clover, Binding, Towering Wall, Swift Wings, Lord, Rem, Ram, Tarefson, Ainz, and Cayde all stood around the casket, where the Gryphon was positioned in peaceful repose. The blood had been cleansed, the sword removed, and the warrior was garbed in a newly repaired white robe. For all intents and purposes, it seemed as though he were merely sleeping. Harmony looked on from her place next to Hammer Strike as the group gathered to mourn the loss of one of their own, who had weathered the centuries with them and never once complained about his age. He badmouthed and cursed a lot of other things, but that was his nature, and it was something they would never have asked him to change.
Father Ivory Chalice was a Unicorn stallion who’d been hired from a small town ten miles east of Ponyville. He’d been paid a hefty sum by Hammer Strike to come out here for the service. He was in his later years with a graying white coat and a light brown mane. He wore a simple white robe of sturdy material that covered his frame entirely. Standing beside the body of Anderson, he levitated an old dusty tome bound in red leather with gold filigree on the front, back, and spine, then carefully opened it in front of him.
“For it is better to die defending the Mother’s great name than to have lived for eternity suffering her besmirchment,” he read in a careful even tone. “We are gathered here to say goodbye to Father Alexander Anderson, a Gryphon who returned to the Great Mother's grace and vehemently sought to spread it to others and to shield them. I did not know Father Anderson, though I feel that his example is one that all of us of the cloth could stand to learn from. He suffered much before finding his calling. And in the process of a duty he felt his own, he suffered many more hardships. In the name of Faust he helped the needy and the downtrodden. And in her name, he slayed the zombie, the ghoul, and the vampire. He gave his life protecting the hallowed ground of the cathedral he called his own. May he find his reward sweet and fulfilling. Let us observe a few moments of silence in honor of him.”
The attendants each bowed their heads. For some, tears watered their eyes. Others watered the ground. Others still retained a staunch silence. Even Tarefson, the undead who took such great pleasure exchanging barbs with Anderson and pushing the priest’s buttons, was strangely respectful to the point of almost being reverent.
The remainder of the service was a simple one. The Gryphon was interred in the shadow of the building he had called his home. The edifice would be a reminder to all that visited not only of the great goddess to whom it was dedicated, but also to the Gryphon who had helped to build it so very long ago. Hammer Strike had spared no expense, and the gravestone that marked the plot where the Gryphon was buried would remain untouched by the wear and tear of the elements. It was the least that could be done for one who had sacrificed so much for the sake of Hammer Strike’s people.
Although no one else could see them, three figures watched on from a distance. Hammer Strike gave a small nod to acknowledge their presence.
They each acknowledged him in turn, Faust and Bonnie looking sadly at him while Sleipnir looked stoic.
“Is something the matter, Father?” Yharon asked of the stallion.
“Acknowledging the presence of Sleipnir, Bonnie, and Faust,” Hammer Strike replied softly. “An interesting turn of events for all three to be here…”
“How do you see that?” Bonnie's voice cut in.
Hammer Strike hummed questioningly in response.
“We all had our own attachments to him,” Bonnie noted.
“The fact that you are all three here at the same time, is what I meant.” Hammer Strike replied. “As you’ve all notably kept your distance.”
Faust smiled sadly at the grave. “It is a pity that he had to leave his body in the way that he did, but I can assure you he is living well in his reward.”
“That’s good.” Hammer Strike gave a soft smile.
“Still say he should have embraced that blessing,” Slephnir said. “He could have done a lot of great things.”
“Given the circumstances, he made the right choice, Father, and you know it,” Faust said testily.
“Maybe, but right is subjective.” Sleipnir shrugged.
“Oh leave it alone, Sleipnir. You don’t get to pout just because some mortal you blessed turned against you,” Bonnie chastised.
“To be fair, he never worshiped Sleipnir to begin with,” Hammer Strike muttered.
Bonnie gave Hammer Strike a smile as Slephnir stared daggers at him.
“I thought you liked Hammer Strike, Father,” Faust teased. “Why the sudden change?”
“I liked Anderson, too. I still found him grating at times,” Sleipnir commented dryly.
Yharon stared with some interest, completely oblivious to what was happening, save for his father’s occasional shift in glance to watch whichever deity was speaking. “How curious,” he mused softly.
“I’m glad Bahamut managed to save that one,” Bonnie said. “I miss the feathered Dragons. They had such a neat view of the world.”
Hammer Strike couldn’t help but give a small smile at the remark to Yharon.
“Dare I ask, or is it best I don’t know what you’re smiling about?” Yharon asked
“Nothing for you to worry about.”
“Do you need some time alone with your guests?” he asked politely.
“It’s fine, so long as they don’t interrupt the service. Which I doubt they would.”
Bonnie and Faust, in a unison that showed a family resemblance that had been lacking in Hammer Strike’s experience, glared at Sleipnir.
“What?” Sleipnir asked with a surprised look. “I wasn't planning anything.”
“Famous last words,” Faust noted darkly.
“Quite the family dynamic,” Hammer Strike commented softly as he directed his attention forward once more.
Hammer Strike sat in his office, having wrapped up on the paperwork he had to catch up on since his ‘departure’ to the island and back. He knew his meeting with Faust would eventually happen, though he was never given an estimate on when. Given the funeral was dealt with earlier in the day however, he anticipated the meeting to take place within the next few days.
“You know, I’m surprised you never actually tried my tea,” a familiar voice noted as an old tea set untouched by time materialized beside his desk alongside the divine mare.
Hammer Strike blinked a few times. “I … honestly forgot about it.”
Faust rolled her eyes. “Well, it is what it is. I suppose I shouldn’t have expected anything less when you were so focused on other duties.” She poured a pair of cups. “Now then, Father tells me he already told you of my intent to visit. He also hinted that you may have something to ask of me. Do you?”
“There….” Hammer Strike took a moment. “There are some concerns that I would like addressed, given the recent things I have seen. Old questions have come back to me once more.”
“Then it seems this is the perfect time for you to drink, after all.” Faust proffered a steaming cup to the stallion.
Hammer Strike accepted the cup with a nod and took a sip. “I want to know the status of four individuals in the afterlife. Terra, Tempus, Andre, and E. I know they didn’t make it off the island, but considering what we saw, I want to know they at least made it there.”
“Terra and Tempus did, indeed, make it to the fields.” She sighed. “I’m afraid I can’t say the same for the others.”
“I see,” Hammer Strike sighed as his shoulder drooped. “Creatures of that nature are noted to leave nothing in their wake, so I suppose I should at least count some as a positive note. I just wish it didn’t have to turn out that way.”
“I do, too.” She sighed. “They opened a door that never should have been opened, and they paid the ultimate price for it. Would that those who weren’t responsible could have been spared.” She took another sip herself.
“Are they, Terra and Tempus at least… I suppose the best way to put it would be, happy, in the afterlife?” Hammer Strike frowned.
“They are well cared for. But you know what it is to be a parent, Hammer Strike. You always wonder. And worry.”
Hammer Strike hummed to himself for a moment. “I’d suspect as much, yes.” He frowned. “Do … you think we could make a deal?”
Faust raised a quizzical brow. “You wish to strike a bargain with me?”
“Though I don’t like the idea of it, yes.” Hammer Strike took a breath, then plunged in. “Would it be possible to bring them here in a mortal body? Probably not Alicorn in nature. That would turn too many heads. But can you bring them back for at least a day? They risked their livelihood to bring me from that laboratory into a home, saving me from whatever else was going to be thrown at me. If I can help ease their worries and give them the closure they need, I am willing to make a deal for it. If they are willing, that is.”
Faust frowned. “Overturning the natural order like that, even for just one day, is a risky piece of business. In theory, I can do it, but it’s something I prefer not to, if I can help it. It sets a precedent I’d rather didn’t exist in this world.” She took another sip from her tea. “It might also cause some rancor among the other members of the empire that made it with Terra and Tempus in the first place.” She brushed her chin in thought. “I might be able to convince them, however, since they at least have their families, their children, with them. Terra and Tempus do not.”
“Even if you cannot, or would rather not, I wanted to at least ask.” Hammer Strike sighed.
The tinkling of the teacup returning to the tray rang through the silence of the room. “If it were any other asking, I would refuse them immediately, Hammer Strike. But you have done more for this world and its denizens than any other creature ever has or likely ever will for so long as this world will stand. The gods owe you a great debt, myself especially. I’ll need to counsel with my family and discuss the possibility with Terra and Tempus. But, … assuming that all parties are willing to agree, I will grant your request.”
“I … would greatly appreciate it.” Hammer Strike gave a soft smile. “Assuming you could get the results within a week, I’ve already had Celestia and Luna clear their schedules, so we can catch up on events.”
“Then assuming I can get Mother and Father to agree, I believe I will be able to have your old friends return for a visit very soon.” She smiled in turn. “Just remember to take good care of them, Hammer Strike. Should this go through, you will be the keeper of their time. And you will be the one who must tell them when it is time to go. Are you willing to accept that burden?”
“I am.” Hammer Strike nodded.
“Then all that remains for you is to wait,” her voice began to reverberate as she faded. “And see.”
Hammer Strike sighed to himself as he looked down to his desk. After a few moments he furrowed his brows in thought. “Wait, it was a deal. What am I going to owe…?”
“Hammer…. Strike?” A voice spoke up that he hadn’t heard in quite some time.
Hammer Strike stood up in alarm as he turned toward the source of the voice. Beside his desk was the familiar figure of Tempus, though his wings were missing. “T-Tempus?”
“It’s been a long time.” Tempus smirked. “You’ve changed.”
A crushing grip snapped around Hammer Strike’s neck as the familiar scent of soil, flora, and just a hint of quenching oil wafted to his nose. “We’re so glad you made it.”
“Terra.” Hammer Strike chuckled as he looked to the mare. She was missing both her horn and wings, but her smile was just as warm as he remembered it. “It took a lot of work, but I did my best.” He gave a smile as he looked over the two. “I remember you both being taller. Though, I did screw up in using the medical cube a little.”
“Well it was set for Alicorn biology,” tempus pointed out.
“Yeah, figured that out afterwards.” Hammer Strike rubbed the back of his head. “By the Divine, I just wish Faust would have given me more of a warning.”
“You spoke with Faust?” Tempus asked.
“To make the deal for you both, yes.” Hammer Strike smiled. “Don’t know what the price is going to be, but it’ll be worth it in the end. I can at least anticipate better odds than with Sleipnir or Bonnie.”
“And … and the girls?” Terra asked
“The ‘princesses’ of the kingdom are currently in the capital city of Canterlot.” His smile widened. “Allow me to be the first to welcome you to Equestria. Though the current settlement is in repairs from the weathering of time, the rest of the world is quite different.”
“A few millennia have a way of doing that,” Terra noted wryly. Then her head whipped back to Hammer Strike suddenly. “Did you just say princesses?”
“Indeed. Due to the convoluted nature of time, I was lord protector when I was summoned back to the empire. Over the many years I watched over this world, I did more than just that. Currently, I have yet to reclaim my throne after my departure in time. I am the one who settled this nation of Equestria. In turn, I adopted Celestia and Luna into my family, rendering them princesses to the populace.”
“So much happened,” Tempus stated, somewhat in shock.
“Indeed.” Hammer Strike smiled. After a second, he seemed to notice something outside the window and nodded to himself. “Also, I should warn you both of one other thing. There are a lot of Gryphons under my employ, and that of a trusted individual, Grif Bladefeather. Most Gryphons aren’t hostile on sight.”
“That's … a lot to take in,” Tempus said.
“Speaking of which, Dear, what happened to your wings?” Terra asked. “And for that matter, what happened to mine?”
“I should probably step in for that question, actually,” Hammer Strike spoke up. “I requested that you two were to be brought back as anything other than Alicorns. Celestia and Luna are the last natural-born Alicorns in this world, while only… three others have ascended to the form due to an abundance of magic and other variables. Having two more appear would cause an uproar, followed by a grander one when the two of you have to depart.”
“They’re really all that remain?”
“Technically, yes. Stor E. Teller is still around, but … given his health, it’s not obvious. As for the ones stationed in the north,” he sighed. “They nearly completed the crystalline weapon. I had to travel up there and … deal with them.”
“And the synthetic lifeforms they created?”
“Shifted more towards living,” Hammer Strike replied. “I need to head up there sometime soon, actually, but that’s for another time.” He pulled out a scroll and began writing a quick message. After a moment, he rolled it up and his hoof burst into blue fire as it vanished. “There we go. They should be on their way over within the next hour, giving you both plenty of time to adjust first before we see them.”
“Adjust or settle in?” Terra asked.
“Adjust,” Hammer Strike repeated. “I was able to get you both a day. I don’t think I can extend that further.”
“It’s more than we could expect,” Tempus said as he lifted his head. “Thank you, once again, for everything you’ve done for us.”
“It was the least I could do for what you did for me.” Hammer Strike gave a smile. “Come. I can introduce you to their adopted brother, since he’s likely to arrive during the meeting. He’s a Feathered Dragon.”
“I’d thought they all died out,” Tempus said in mild surprise.
“There was still one egg remaining, and Bahamut sought me out to raise him. Which, I will say, was quite the … experience.”
Terra shook her head and smiled. “You know, somehow, I’m not surprised.”
“Well, I can promise you that I certainly was,” Hammer Strike remarked.
Hammer Strike couldn’t help but smile as he sat in his throne in New Unity. At the moment, he was waiting for Celestia and Luna to appear while Terra and Tempus waited off to the side, just out of sight. Though he didn’t do it often, he did enjoy a good dramatic entrance.
The twin flares of light heralded the arrival of both sisters as the remnants of their power rained in specks of glittering dust that slowly faded into the ether as they sifted toward the floor.
Hammer Strike chuckled at their arrival. “I swear, you both keep trying to make each teleport with more and more flare.”
“You did say it was urgent,” Celestia noted. “We tend to lose focus on the smaller things when it comes to those kinds of calls, especially when they’re from you.”
“Of course, it’s not like Celestia likes to show off at all,” Luna commented.
“Says the mare who instituted her own religion to unite her subjects.” Celestia stuck out her tongue playfully.
“All right, all right,” Hammer Strike cut in to stop the conversation. “I called you both here for an important reason; one that is sadly on a time limit.”
“Is it an attack?” Luna asked.
“Thankfully, no.” Hammer Strike frowned. “That would complicate things. No, you two have guests. It’s been a while since you’ve seen either of them, and their appearances have changed. And I have already given each party warnings,” he muttered the last part.
“And they couldn’t come to the castle, so these are guests you don’t want anyone else knowing about?” Celestia asked.
“Well, others can know about them. That isn’t the issue. It’s more … they’d need time to adjust, and they don’t have the time,” Hammer Strike explained. “Terra, Tempus, you can come out now,” he called out.
The room rang with the sound of hesitant hoofsteps as two rather large Ponies stepped out from their hiding place. Terra’s brown mane and sandy fur were accented by the green tips at the end of her mane. The deep purple coat and light green mane and tail that wafted behind the stallion was emphasized by the long horn that protruded from his head.
Celestia stared at the two Ponies in open-mouthed disbelief. For the first time in ages, the Alicorn of the sun was rendered speechless.
Luna seemed confused for a few moments as she stared with them. “Sister, who—?”
Celestia’s eyes darted back and forth between the two stallions. “I-is this...? Are they…?”
“Luna, you were a bit young to remember, but yes. They are your biological mother and father. They ... never made it off the island.” Hammer Strike sighed. “One regret they had was not being able to see what became of you two, so I made a deal with Faust. One day. That’s all I could get them.”
Tears stood in Terra’s eyes as a hoof covered her mouth in a choked gasp. “My little girls.” She raced toward the two of them and wrapped a foreleg around each of their necks in a passionate embrace.
Tears slid down Celestia’s cheeks as her lips wobbled. Though she had neither wings nor horn, the smell was the same, the familiar perfume of dirt and soil, of root and leaf, of flower and fruit and so many things unnamed and unknown through Equestria. But she knew them. She knew them well. Down the corridors of memory, a familiar fanfare of exultant trumpeting flora blasted a triumphant refrain with the word that sputtered tremulously from her lips. “Mother….”
Luna was slower to accept the physical affection, stiffening up at first. She slowly allowed herself to relax. “Mother?” she asked, looking up to Tempus as he slowly approached them. “Father?”
Tempus’ eyes watered lightly as he stared at them. “I’m here, Luna.”
Hammer Strike gave a smile at the reunion. “Though it took some time, at least this reunion could finally take place.”
“Thank you, Hammer Strike,” Tempus said. “It seems we are ever in your debt.”
“No.” Hammer Strike shook his head. “You never were. The reverse feels more true, to be honest.”
“After raising them for … how long did you say it was again?” Terra asked.
“Based off what Ainz has told me, it’s been fourteen thousand years since the end of the Alicorn Empire, and I admittedly wasn’t around for all of those years. A little hard to do with clashing timelines,” Hammer Strike explained.
“You raised them, though, didn’t you?” She beamed at the girls. “You helped them to achieve all this.” She stroked the side of each mare’s face. “Your grandfather would be so proud,” she told them.
“Not … of everything,” Celestia said as she broke her gaze with her mother.
Terra, ever the strong Galaxia, was not about to let that stand. She raised her daughter’s chin to meet her gaze. “He would be proud of what you’ve accomplished and the growth you’ve achieved, through your triumphs and your mistakes. You know how smiths are. If they don’t succeed, they melt it down and try again.” She smiled knowingly at Hammer Strike. “I’m sure Hammer Strike must have taught you that, if nothing else.”
“Everything I could.” Hammer Strike gave a soft smile.”Every little thing I could.”
“I’m a smith, actually,” Luna said sheepishly.
“So Hammer Strike told us.” Terra smiled. “Would you care to show me some of your projects?”
“Of course.” Luna smiled. “Though it may be a bit of a trip. The closest access to my workshop is in Canterlot.”
“I can create a rift to whichever location you need,” Hammer Strike offered. “Make it easier for everyone to travel.”
“You remember where the mirror is located?” Luna asked.
“So long as you haven’t moved it.” Hammer Strike nodded.
“Please, then,” Luna said.
Hammer Strike nodded as thaumic fire coated his hooves and a ring appeared next to him.
“You can make portals?” Terra gaped at the rift, then back at Hammer Strike.
“Yes.” Hammer Strike smiled. “Well, similar to a portal, but not quite a portal. Less of a tunnel created, more like stitching two points of reality together temporarily.”
“A tear, then?” Tempus asked. “A rift in reality?”
“Exactly. Hence why I call it a rift.” Hammer Strike nodded. “All right, shall we go see Luna’s forge?”
Terra smiled. “Lead on, you wonderful stallion. Lead on.”
Extended Holiday Chapter 180: The Return of the King
“They tend to be quite busy, I'm sorry to say.” Hammer Strike sighed softly. “While I had them clear their schedules for the week, the noble houses have proven difficult to them. I’ll have to fix that.”
“It’s fine. We can’t expect everything to be set aside for us,” Tempus said.
“I’m just glad they didn’t turn out like the … others.” Terra shuddered in disgust.
“I tried my best in raising them away from that.” Hammer Strike gave a soft smile. “Though there was war and strife, I always made sure to reinforce my guidance. I gave second chances. In rare situations, I gave a third chance, just to teach them everything I could.”
“A three-strike policy.” Terra nodded. “I approve.”
“It served well in deterring those who would attack our nation, though one race didn’t seem to understand.” Hammer Strike took a breath. “The backlash of that was more than I had hoped for, and I nearly made the Dragons go extinct in my anger.”
“Given their natures, I’m surprised they didn’t almost destroy themselves. Most field research indicated they’re rather selfish creatures to the point they would sell out their own families if it would gain them profit.”
“Indeed. Thankfully, a deal was struck to save them.” Hammer Strike directed their attention to his throne. “While it may be made of many of their scales, I’m sure you’ve both noticed something about the back of that throne.”
“Yes. It’s not the same as the rest,” Tempus noted. “It feels off, different, like it has a separate magical frequency.”
“That is a scale from Bahamut. On the other side is a contract written to save the lives of the remaining Dragons. It wasn’t my proudest moment, but it was still something that occurred, and I tried my best to make it a lesson to Celestia and Luna. I’m not joking when I say I nearly hunted Dragons to extinction. Were it not for Bahamut….”
“You easily could have done the same to us if it weren’t for what happened. If they pushed you that far, then I’m certain they deserved what they got,” Terra said. “And the fact they are still alive means that while it wasn’t your proudest moment, at least you were able to overcome it. Most of the Alicorns in the empire probably wouldn’t have.”
“Faust and Bahamut stepped in to stop me. I was blind in my rage and pulled on energies that I shouldn’t have.” Hammer Strike sighed. “I nearly ascended to some manner of a divine being. What it would have been, I’m uncertain. But, as you have mentioned, they pulled me out of it.”
“What do you intend to have them do once you take over again?” Terra asked.
“Celestia and Luna? Well, there will still be royal duties and all that, but I should be able to automate most of them like I did before, leaving them with more free time again.”
“I’m looking forward to seeing what they’ve been able to create over the millennia.” Terra smiled.
“Indeed.” Tempus nodded. “It’s hard to believe so much time’s gone by.”
“I’ll have to arrange what I can, then. While the trip to Canterlot would be good, I do have to, of course, give the standard warnings for nobles and all that,” Hammer Strike replied before humming in thought. “Grif should be stopping by soon, and I can settle things here while we’re away.”
“Somebody mention my name?” Grif asked as he arrived just as Hammer Strike finished.
A startled scream was soon followed by the familiar goat’s bleat as Terra leaped into the air, then fell on her back with her hooves sticking rigidly into the air.
“That was unexpected,” Grif commented.
“Where did he come from?” Tempus shouted in surprise as he leaped to his wife to try to pull her out of her fear-induced pose.
Hammer Strike looked to Terra and Tempus. “I … well, I did try to warn you.” He turned his attention back to Grif. “There’re a few things I need you to do, Grif.”
“Go on,” Grif said.
“I need you to watch over things in New Unity for today, and when I say watch over things, I mean I want things to be run as efficiently as possible. We have special guests, and I won’t settle for anything less today.”
“I’ll break out the flails,” Grif joked.
“To clarify, these are Terra and Tempus.” Hammer Strike gestured to the two. “The two who pulled me out of the testing facility in the Alicorn Empire. I’ve made a deal with Faust for them to have one day to see their daughters.”
Grif gave each a small bow. “Thank you for what you did for my lord. Even he has limits, and I’m not sure how much farther they could have been pressed.”
“It was the right thing to do. Honestly, you have Doctor Light to thank for all of this. If it weren’t for him, I never would have learned the truth,” Terra said.
“Modesty is great, but you shouldn’t push it too far, my lady,” Grif told her. “Your efforts made the difference in the end.”
Terra blushed. “Thank you.”
“Now then. I take it you have a reason for asking me and not the actually organized people like Vital or Clover?” Grif asked his lord.
“They have one day. I’m headed out as soon as possible, and you’re the fastest one to get around,” Hammer Strike replied. “I figure you’ll likely give this information to them while I am away, and everything can be settled.”
“I’d ask if you need the Gantrithor, but we both know you won’t.” Grif chuckled.
“While I would love for it to be the scenic route, we don’t have the time.” He sighed. “I’ll leave you to it.” He gave a nod as he opened a rift to his side. “Terra, Tempus, shall we?”
.
Terra nodded. She turned from the portal at the last moment to look back at the Gryphon. “I don’t know if we’ll meet again, Grif, but if you had any role in helping our daughters, then thank you.” With that said, she passed through the rift.
Grif and Tempus traded a nod before he, too, passed through the rift.
Hammer Strike gave a small smile before nodding to Grif and leaving through the rift, closing it behind him.
Tabby Poser smiled beatifically as she stepped away from the stand with a steaming crepe hovering in her magic. The streets of New Unity may not have been so grand as Manehattan, but there was a definite sense of peace and kindness here that reminded her very much of the old days with her friends, even with that knucklehead Drake nearly blowing their cover with every other sentence. It was … nice back then. The only thing missing now was the rich smell of coffee and curry. She could almost taste it.
…
Actually, she could taste it. Her eyes widened at the sight of a familiar steaming carryout container as a white Unicorn shoveled chunks of the dish into his mouth with a dreamy smile on his face.
“Um, excuse me!” she called as she raced after him. “Excuse me, sir. Could I talk to you for a minute?”
The stallion continued contentedly, clearly unaware that the inquiry was directed at him.
“Hey, would you slow down for a sec and just listen?” Ann puffed as the clatter of her hooves reached the stallion’s ears and he turned with some surprise to stare at the winded mare.
“Sorry, I thought you were talking to somebody else.” The stallion furrowed his brow. “Say, aren’t you the mare Hammer Strike had us take back from Manehattan?” He frowned uncertainly. “Tabby Cat, right?”
“Tabby Poser.” Tabby groaned. “Why is it that everyone always thinks it’s Cat?”
“Probably because that’s what comes to mind after hearing the first part of your name,” the stallion noted. “Since I couldn’t remember your name properly, I’m guessing you probably don’t remember mine.” He extended a hoof. “Vital Spark. A pleasure to make your acquaintance once again, Miss Poser.” He smiled as the two shook hooves briefly. “Now then, Tabby, I hope you don’t mind my calling you Tabby, what can I do for you?”
Tabby blinked in surprise. “I, um … wanted to know where you bought that…” She pointed weakly at the carry container and chuckled nervously.
Vital Spark shrugged. “A new place that opened up recently. Pensword recommended it. I have to say, it really is some of the best curry I’ve ever eaten. The owner’s a little standoffish, but he’s a good host.”
“What’s his name?”
“Didn’t catch it all, but I know it has to do with Coffee. Coffee … something?” Vital Spark blinked as he stared at the mare. “Why are you grinning and vibrating? That’s supposed to be Pinkie Pie’s thing.”
The mare was suddenly in his face as her excitement burst to the surface. “Where did you say this restaurant was?”
“I … didn’t. Um, could you maybe take a step or two back? Pinkie Pie is one thing, but you’re not her, and I really prefer to only let my wife get this close normally.”
Tabby chuckled nervously and took a few steps back. “Sorry about that. It’s just, … I think I may know the owner, and he was really close to some friends of mine. I just really wanted to get back in touch, you know?”
Vittal Spark shrugged. “If you say so. I’m on break, so I guess I can afford to walk you there. After that, I need to make a run into Ponyville to talk with Rarity about a little side project, assuming she’s available, so I’m afraid you’re going to be on your own.”
Tabby smiled. “I’m sure I’ll be fine after that. Thank you for this, though. Really.”
Vital chuckled. “Promise not to get in my face like that again, and I think we can call it square. I usually prefer dinner and a date before kissing, you know.”
Tabby’s whole face turned bright red as Vital Spark led the way back toward Coffee Karē’s shop.
Hammer Strike couldn’t help but grin as everyone was gathered for dinner. Terra, Tempus, Celestia, Luna, Yharon, and Clover were all seated around the table. While he would have liked Rarity to join them, she needed to get back to her work in Ponyville, especially since she had been away for some time.
“So, you are a feathered dragon?” Tempus asked, looking up at Yharon.
Yharon spread his wings meaningfully. “I could perform a spell or two, if that helps,” he said mildly.
“Dear, you’re being rude,” Terra chided gently.
“It’s no difficulty for me, Ma’am,” Yharon said respectfully. “I used to be asked that question often when Father introduced me to the rest of the settlement after I’d learned how to speak.”
“It’s just, by the time I was born, your kind had been gone for a while already.” Tempus explained. “It’s kind of like meeting a living dinosaur.” He seemed excited. “Uh, no offense meant by that.”
“Honestly, it’s a blessing that my kind died before yours could take them. From what little I’ve learned about Father’s time with you, my kin would not have been treated kindly.”
“I don’t think anyone's kin would have,” Tempus agreed. “When one loses their grasp on ethics, they don’t think about the repercussions.”
“At least we no longer have to worry about that side of things for the time being,” Hammer Strike spoke up.
Yharon nodded. “And I have the chance to know at least a little bit about another part of the family. That is something to be celebrated.” He smiled and raised his cup. “To Faust for granting this boon, and to Father for arranging this wonderful gift to my dear sisters. May happiness and good fortune bless them both.”
Celestia smiled kindly. “Hear hear,” she agreed as she raised her own cup. “You always did have such a wonderful way with words, Yharon.”
Yharon chuckled. “You can thank Mother for that one.”
“Well, I taught you all the best things you know,” Clover said. She laughed as she raised her own glass.
“Including never to critique you if I value my sleep and my sanity,” Yharon said with a playful smile.
“That's Momma’s smart boy.” She chuckled.
“I must say, it’s a pity that Father couldn’t be here with us. He would have loved to talk with you about some of the magics you’ve unlocked. I find your contractual magic between those spirits particularly fascinating,” Terra noted.
“Well, I have always had a broad range of magical ability. However, after certain events, my possibilities became countless.” Clover shrugged. “I’m essentially immune to arcane corruption.”
Terra furrowed her brow. “That shouldn’t be possible. Then again, I suppose the same can be said of us here and now. Did you have the assistance of a god?”
“No, just a contract with him.” She gestured to Hammer Strike.
“Your power again?” Terra surmised as she looked to their host.
“The best way I can explain it without it sounding completely horrible, corruption is harder to occur if a soul is already owned by another.” Hammer Strike tried explaining before frowning. “Nope, still sounds horrible either way.”
“So, she gave you her soul to protect it, essentially, but without actually doing anything to it?”
“Close enough.” Hammer Strike nodded. “I … may have done this to most of my close aides.”
“It’s a sound strategy,” Tempus admitted. “Kinda shocking you could bind so many. Soul binding is usually very taxing.”
“Yeah, … through my method, it’s actually incredibly easy.” He frowned. “In any case, I ensured they could explore any field they wished without worry of corruption.”
“The implications of that are … mind boggling, to say the least,” Tempus noted.
“I assume, as a matter of course, that since they’re bound to you, they can’t do anything that goes against your will regarding the magical studies they pursue?” Terra surmised.
“We can’t do anything that would directly put ourselves, Unity or it’s people, or Hammer Strike in danger,” Clover explained.
“And Bonnie is all right with that?”
“As long as the bond is voluntary on both ends,” Clover explained. “Though, to be honest, she was so far gone at that point, I doubt she could have done much.”
“Yeah, her name was practically forgotten over the course of time. And though I offered to bring it back long ago with the Thestrals, she requested I wait until now to do so, which I have done already.”
“Binding magics, distilling moonlight. What’s next, resurrection?” Terra asked.
Hammer Strike paused briefly as he thought over the idea before shaking his head. “Unless you count my own minor resurrections, then I don’t think so.”
“You mean the regeneration from the medical cube?”
“No. In the empire, after some surgeries, I did die,” Hammer Strike replied. “It was … strange, to say the least. I stood outside of my body with the previous Death at my side trying to find me on her list. With my power, I pulled my soul and body back together. It’s not pleasant. And the last time I did it, I flew into a fury at anything near me.”
Terra shuddered. “Yes, I remember those feeds before the cameras were destroyed.”
“Thankfully, I haven’t needed to do that again. The closest use I’ve had to medically assist myself was fusing my bones back together. Beyond that, it’s been calmer. Apart from the ten or so wars.”
Terra sighed. “Must everyone always try to pick a fight with you?”
“They didn’t want to lose their power, and they were desperate for the supplies and wealth we had accrued,” Celestia noted. “It was fairly logical, at least if you look at it from their way of thinking.”
“Indeed. It was an interesting time.” Hammer Strike gave a soft smile. “I met many who gave their all for building and defending Equestria.”
Yharon smiled sadly. “You would have loved Hurricane. He was a paragon among his peers. That Pegasus helped make Luna the warrior she is today and built up our armies from a group of ragtag volunteers. Without a doubt, that stallion was a miracle worker.”
“Sounds like a competent thinker.” Tempus nodded. “The Pegasi were always gifted when it came to war.”
Yharon nearly choked on his drink as he recalled a particular incident from the past and laughed. “You should have seen them after their medics got through with them. They practically beat their warriors black and blue.”
“Oh, that was a grand show.” Hammer Strike smirked. “They deserved as much, if not more, but at least it was settled at that point.”
“I am admittedly curious,” Terra said. “If a Pegasus can ascend to become an Alicorn, and so can a Unicorn, then does that not also mean a normal Earth Pony could become an Alicorn if the proper conditions are fulfilled?”
“Probably. Though the thought sounds horrible.” Hammer Strike hummed. “Given it’s mostly an ascension through magic, it may be possible….”
The jingle of Rarity’s doorbell immediately brought the mare to the entrance, where a broad smile soon graced her face. “Well, if it isn’t Vital Spark. Come in, come in, darling. I wasn’t expecting a visit from you so soon.”
Vital Spark returned the smile. “It’s good to see you, Rarity, but I admit I didn’t come here for a social call this time.”
“Oh? Then what can I do for you?”
“I have a little project I’d like to commission from you, if you don’t mind. I know you’re probably busy with the other orders and projects you’ve been working on after that fashion show, and there’s not exactly a time limit per se on it, so I can wait if you have a queue.”
Rarity waved her hoof. “Nonsense. For a friend, I can craft a design in a heartbeat, or, well, at least draw up the design,” she amended. “Is this something for you, then?”
Vital Spark shook his head. “No.” He opened one of his saddlebags and pulled out a familiar wide-brimmed, star-studded hat, followed by a matching cloak. “Something for my wife.” He chuckled. “She’s in a class with Clover right now, so I took advantage of her absence. She really loved her time in that wagon, and this hat and cloak remind her of that, but they don’t really suit her anymore.”
“And you’d like me to design something that will?”
Vital Spark nodded. “I was hoping you’d still have her measurements from when you designed that dress for the wedding. And since it’s not a full set of clothes, I figured it wouldn’t take so long as if you were to do an entire ensemble.”
Rarity frowned. “I suppose I could try it,” she mused. “Most of my work has focused on dresses and the like before, but I’ve worked my share of costumes over the years. Give me some time to think it over. A wedding is one thing. A showmare’s hat and cloak are quite another.” She levitated the articles of clothing and ran the material through her hooves, then examined the remainder of the work. “Hoof stitched,” she noted. “A little worn around the hemming, probably from having to start over a few times, not to mention the wear and tear of travel. The seams are slightly askew, but the workmanship is sound. This is something she took pride in. Are you sure she’ll be all right with you doing this? She might prefer to make her own.”
“And if she does, then she can. I just thought I’d surprise her with something nice. My mother may have been a seamstress, but I know absolutely nothing about how to sew.”
Rarity smiled. “That really is very sweet of you, Vital Spark.”
“Isn’t that the whole point of being a special somepony?”
Rarity giggled. “How very right you are. Well, darling, I think I have what I need for now.” She levitated the clothing back to the stallion. “I’ll see about drafting some sketches and designs for you to look over later. Was there a particular time you’d like to drop by, or should I just send you a note when they’re ready?”
“I think I’d prefer the latter. It leaves me with more flexibility. And if you ask Spike to send it, it should be able to reach me directly, wherever I am, which makes it a lot less likely to fall into a certain showmare’s hooves.” He winked and smiled as he stowed the garments again. “Thank you, Rarity. This means a lot to me, and I think it will mean a lot to her, too. I can give you a down payment now, if you need it.”
Rarity waved her hoof dismissively. “We can discuss that later. I haven’t even done any of the hoofwork yet.”
Vital Spark nodded. “All right. In that case, I’d better get my butt moving before Trixie gets back to our room. Thanks again. I’ll be back later with a little something to express my gratitude. And I won’t be taking no for an answer, Rarity. Consider it a token of friendship,” he said. And then, in a flash of light, the stallion was gone.
Rarity swore. “Hammer Strike is rubbing off on him a little too much, I think.” Then she sighed. “Ah, well. I suppose a mare can’t be the generous one all the time.” And with that said, she returned to her work room, where her backstore of dummies and orders awaited her attention.
Hammer Strike sighed to himself as he stood along the wall of New Unity, looking over the growing city with Terra, Tempus, Celestia, and Luna close by. They had spent the entirety of their twenty four hours together in some manner, seeing the sights of Equestria and other locations he could get them to.
“Quite an eventful time, would you not agree?” Hammer Strike asked the group.
“Thank you,” Tempus told him. “Even if it was just a day, it was nice to see them again.”
Terra hugged Celestia and Luna in a crushing grip as tears stood in her eyes. “I’m so proud of you both.”
Luna hugged her as gently as she could. “Thank you, Mother.” Tears dropped freely from her eyes.
“Now don’t you go forgetting about us again,” Terra teased the younger sibling in a choked voice. Then she nuzzled Celestia. “And you don’t let your genes define who you are. You’re more than just a teacher.”
Celestia smiled gently as she wrapped her wing around one side of her mother. “I’ve learned that over the years. Hammer Strike taught us well.”
“The best I could.” Hammer Strike gave a soft smile before frowning. “The time approaches.”
“I’ll miss you,” Luna said as she wrapped Tempus into a hug.
“I’ll miss you, too.” Tempus returned the hug. “But we’ll always be listening. We may not talk back, but we’ll hear you.”
“I’m sorry I couldn’t do more.” Hammer Strike sighed. “But, at least I was able to get this going.”
“It’s more than we ever could have asked,” Terra said.
Hammer Strike took one look out to the city once again. “It’s time.” He sighed. “Faust, I request your presence to conclude our deal.”
There was neither a flash nor the tinkling of bells, only the gentle rustle of feathers as the goddess folded her wings and gazed upon her children. “I’m sorry that I could only give you this much. I just hope it was enough.”
Terra smiled. “More than enough. I just have one more request, if you would allow it, Mother.”
“And what is it that you would ask, my daughter?”
“Will you allow us to watch over our daughters? We do not ask the impossible, but … we would still see them, their lives, their progress, if you would allow it.”
“I cannot let your spirits linger here, but I can provide you with the means to watch over them.”
“That's all we ask,” Tempus said.
Faust nodded. Then in that case, it’s time for you to go.” She raised a wing, and a portal manifested. “Go ahead, you two. Your family is waiting.”
The two parents gave one last look at their progeny, then nodded to Hammer Strike and stepped through to that divine realm. Faust nodded and then turned to the party.
“Faust,” Hammer Strike spoke up, “you never did tell me what the price would be.”
Faust smiled. “Let’s just say I have a commission I want you to fill. I’ll drop by with the details later. But first,” she turned to Celestia, “I have one last gift to give.” She approached the solar Alicorn and pulled the mare’s chin up, so she would look her in the eyes. “Celestia, you have lived for such a very long time, and you have suffered much heartache. I cannot take that burden from you, but I can offer you this.” She leaned close to Celestia’s ear and lowered her voice to a whisper of a whisper, a dying breath. Or, perhaps, a breath of life. “Your beloved Arthur lives.”
Celestia stiffened as her face went dreadfully pale. Her legs trembled. “Wh-what did you just say?”
Faust smiled sadly. “You know what I said, child. I’m afraid I can say nothing more than that.” She looked to Luna and bowed her head. “You both have done so much for this world, but your tasks are not yet done. Stay the course, and all will be well.” She turned and approached her portal, then paused for a moment. “Oh, and Celestia, use that information well.”
Then she passed through the portal and was gone. The sun remained frozen on the horizon as Celestia stared after where the goddess had once been in open-mouthed stupefaction.
“I have a few questions, but I’ll save those for another time,” Hammer Strike muttered. “Hey, Luna, what do you think a goddess would commission?”
“Probably something for divine power.” Luna said.
“Yeah, that still adds many questions.” Hammer Strike frowned. “I’ve only really made one… no, wait, four objects of that scale…. Nevermind.”
“I don’t think she’d want something ridiculous,” Luna noted.
“I don’t even know what she’d want in the first place.” Hammer Strike sighed. “I should probably prepare my forge.”
“I’m sure she’ll approach you with what she wants and the materials to make it from,” Luna said. “The divine tend to be picky with what they want things crafted out of.”
“Hopefully, on the whole bringing me the materials part.” Hammer Strike shrugged. “We’ll see when the time comes. Oh, and Celestia?”
Celestia blinked as Hammer Strike’s voice plunged into the depths of her astonishment and pulled her out like a lifeline. “Y-yes?” she asked.
“We’ve got a few things to discuss later, all right?”
“Um … yes. All right…. I just … need a little time first.”
“I understand that.” Hammer Strike nodded. “But I think it’s about time I learn of how things went on your adventure. We’ll discuss it sometime after I take back the throne.”
Celestia nodded numbly.
“Also,” Hammer Strike pointed toward the sun as thaumic energy coalesced around his hoof. Before long the sun started moving once again below the horizon. “Do try not to forget about the sun. I may be able to move these bodies because they’re tied to your will, but let’s keep things tied to your schedule, all right?”
Celestia blinked in surprise. “I’d … forgotten you could do that.”
“Well it’s been awhile since I’ve had to. I mean, the first few months you both had this power, your schedules were so off I had to figure out something. If it weren’t for the fact that they yielded to me easily after you tied yourselves to them, I would have taken more drastic measures.”
“How drastic?” Luna asked.
“Essentially a repeat until you both settled on things.”
“You’d have died,” Luna pointed out.
“I would have found a method to avoid it, as per usual.”
“Over our dead bodies,” Celestia said fiercely.
Hammer Strike gave a brief soft chuckle. “I didn’t need to take those measures, so at least there’s that.” He sighed. “That’s that, though, so I suppose I should return to my work.”
Celestia nodded. “Perhaps we should come by the forge then. It’s been a while since we actually worked on a project together, and I would love to meet your apprentice in person.”
“Yeah, that took a moment to adjust to, considering it was, to me, thousands of years ago, so I lost track of what I’ve taught her….” He frowned.
“I, too, will enjoy meeting your apprentice. It is nice to know I’m not alone anymore,” Luna commented.
“Though that still leaves one rather important matter unaddressed,” Celestia noted. “I’ve had Twilight. Father had us, and now this apprentice. Yharon has Gilgamesh. Who is going to be your apprentice, sister?”
“We shall see, sister. We shall see.”
Grif waited at the door to Hammer Strike’s office. He’d received a summons earlier to drop by when he’d have time. He didn’t even bother to knock. He knew Hammer Strike knew he was there.
Hammer Strike looked up from his papers briefly before turning his attention back towards them. “There you are.”
“Hey. You needed to see me?” Grif asked as he entered.
“I did. There is something that I have decided to give you, though I need to modify it slightly beforehand.” He sighed before standing from his chair. “I’ll need you to do me a favor in order to do this.”
“What do you need?” Grif asked, lifting an eyebrow.
Hammer Strike pulled the waystone out of his coat. “Basically, close your eyes, don’t ask questions, and follow my instructions until I tell you to open your eyes again.”
“Okay.” Grif shrugged and shut his eyes.
Hammer Strike sighed as he activated the waystone. “Face right, ninety degrees, and walk seven steps forward.”
Grif did as instructed, feeling strange the whole time. He had no reason to distrust Hammer Strike, but it was still a strange request.
“You’re good to open your eyes,” Hammer Strike commented, pocketing the waystone once more as the two stood within his personal forge. “Sorry about that. It doesn’t work unless nobody is looking.”
“Holy—” Grif commented as he opened his eyes wide and looked around. “You’ve been holding out on us.”
“This was part of a trade I made with a duo of dwarves. We’re disconnected from Equestria at the moment.” He pointed toward the large root in the center of the forge. “That is a root of the tree of Yggdrasil.”
“Yggdrasil, as in the world tree?” Grif asked.
“Correct. This forge was made by Brok and Sindri in trade for an unbreakable anvil. I’m sure you can keep your mouth shut on them being here.” Hammer Strike nodded. “Comes with any tool I could ever need, and more materials than I may need.”
Grif’s beak opened and shut for a few minutes. “You know what? No, I shouldn’t be surprised anymore. The closest thing there is to dwarf gods. Of course you’ve met them.”
“They searched for me after I made said unbreakable anvil.” Hammer Strike smiled. “You haven’t even seen my favorite part. Stand over at that ‘wall’ and say a type of metal.”
Grif did as instructed, “Uh, electrum?” Immediately, a small shiny ingot came from the blackness. “Okay, that was cool,” Grif admitted.
“Be sure to put that one back. I actually haven’t measured how much electrum I have. They never told me how much they gave me….”
Nodding, Grif tossed the ingot back into the blackness.
“The greatest forge I could ever need.” Hammer Strike smiled before directing Grif’s attention over to his work table where a familiar silver blade sat. The only piece of it that wasn’t right was that it was missing a pommel. “That is why I brought you here.”
“That's a silver sword,” Grif commented. “Why would you make one?”
“I made that long ago to fight an elder vampire and various other creatures of the night. It is both marked with an ancient rune to instill it with further power and blessed by Bonnie herself. I gave it to Anderson, a Gryphon Faustian, during my rule to defend those around him.” He sighed. “But that was then. Anderson passed long ago, and his last act was to preserve the remaining pieces of Unity’s crown within the cathedral walls. It can never tarnish, it can never dull, and it will always remain pure, one hundred percent.”
“That sounds like several nightmares to create,” Grif commented.
“It was. But, since I no longer need it, it is time I pass it down to the next to wield it.” He turned toward Grif. “Considering your line of work, and the efforts you're going with for it, I chose you.”
“I—wow, thanks,” Grif said. “That will make life easier.”
“Indeed. But there is one last thing I will add to it.” Hammer Strike picked up the missing pommel, which was empty. It appeared to have been made to hold some kind of gem. “Have faith in what I am about to do, all right?”
“I trust you,” Grif said.
Hammer Strike sighed as thaumic energy collected around his hoof. After a moment, he reached out and placed it on Grif’s chest. He glanced over what he could see before reaching towards his own chest and pulling something from it, a soft blue teardrop gemstone. “This one should work.” he finished, lowering his hoof once again.
“That's some powerful gem.” Grif whistled as his feathers rustled in response to the power he felt emanating from it. “You sure you trust me with that?”
“I do. I have to remove most of these from myself, and you are one of the individuals I trust enough for it.” It was a simple matter to mount the stone into the pommel’s housing. “I used them a rare number of times, but I prefer not to.” He frowned as he secured it in place. “It’s almost like they call out to me when they are separated.”
“I’ll do my best to be worthy of the trust you put in me,” Grif said, gulping a bit.
“I’m sure you’ll be fine.” Hammer Strike attempted to give a small smile before attaching the pommel to the blade once again. “Though I admit, my paranoia takes over at times, given the fact that I bound those of the past to me. Ainz, Binding, and Clover being the primary ones. This once, I’m going to push myself beyond my paranoia.” He took hold of the blade, giving it one last look over before flipping it in his grip and offering it to Grif.
Grif carefully and respectfully gripped the sword and took it, admiring its feel in his talons. He gave it several waves, testing the balance and the movement. “It’s great,” Grif commented. “Not quite what I'm used to, but easily adjusted to.”
“Indeed.” Hammer Strike reached over the worktable and took hold of a sheath for the blade, offering it to Grif. “Should you require a different sheath, tell me and I’ll make you one suited for your needs.”
“It should be fine.” Grif took the gift and sheathed the blade with a flourish. With a few minor adjustments, he managed to attach it to his weapon harness comfortably just under his left wing. “You know, you're going to spoil me on regular weapons.”
“Trust me, that’s not hard.” Hammer Strike chuckled. “Let’s just hope I don’t have to make something similar to my scythe.”
“Your scythe?” Grif asked.
Hammer Strike reached out to his side as the air wavered before pulling his hoof back. WIthin his grasp, the dreadful scythe materialized, perfectly maintained and prepared at a moment’s notice. “Baleful Eclipse.”
“Hammer strike, that's a divine weapon,” Grif commented.
“Based off what I was told, this is more in nature with a god-tier weapon.”
“You have a god weapon?” Grif asked incredulously.
“Somehow, I managed to make it through two soulbound weapons. Though they did come from those special dice we’ve found before.” He looked at the blade. “No corruption, no cost, no issues. The only thing it doesn’t like is when I try to use another scythe, even a practice one.”
“You made a god weapon?” Grif asked, flabbergasted.
“... If you count staves, I’ve made four.” Hammer Strike noted after a brief pause. Taking a few steps over, he stomped his hoof six times on the ground, triggering a slot to open. “I also traded for this.”
“Is that...?” Grif asked, looking at the two and a half ingots in the slot.
“Uru, yes. They gave me three, and I’ve used it as sparingly as possible. But I have used it in Ainz, Binding, and Clover’s staves. Hence why I bound the three of them by their soul to mine,” he commented, closing the slot once again.
“All of this, I'm guessing, is a state secret?” Grif asked.
“More than just a state secret.” Hammer Strike nodded. “In fact, if you are unsure on whether you can keep it a secret, I can request Ainz to remove the memories of seeing it, though that is entirely on you to choose. Sleipnir can’t know this place exists. I can’t even use the waystone when he’s looking in my general direction.”
“Hammer strike, I’m your spymaster. I’m the one who knows where the bodies are buried. If I couldn’t keep a secret, you wouldn’t have me killing people under your authority.”
“As I stated, that was for if you couldn’t trust yourself with this.” Hammer Strike gave a brief chuckle. “I should still introduce you to Ainz, and Swift Wings, since she was my resident spymaster and assassin in the past.”
Grif nodded. “Well, at least you kept intelligence going while you were gone.”
“Indeed. Though I’ll need to catch up with Broker at some point as well. Last I remember was that he seemed to be awaiting my ‘return.’” Hammer Strike pulled out the waystone once more. “Same rules apply to leave, by the way.”
Grif shut his eyes. “Let's go, then.”
Hammer Strike chuckled as he opened the gate. “Eight steps forward.”
“You know, it’s strange,” Night Terror said as she looked up at the starry sky. Pensword had invited her to join him on his outing to check the progress of the new airship docks.They trotted toward the edge of the city, where the skeletons of the wooden structures had begun to spring up next to the massive one Hammer Strike had constructed for the Gantrithor. “In Canterlot, everything was so divided. Everything had a place, and it wasn’t ever allowed beyond those bounds. Here, it’s different. The people, the culture. Just … so much. It all blurs together, and yet, somehow, instead of a great mess, you get all of this.” She motioned toward the city’s walls and the compound that lay beyond its boundaries.
Pensword smiled. “That is the point. You have Unicorns watching in real time to see a Pegasus practice maneuvers for combat. Then they see what may or may not work for their own styles and adopt it. Thestrals might see a Unicorn habit they like. We are showing that when you drop personal barriers and take the opportunity to learn and grow from others, you develop a unity that is stronger than the parts that make the whole.” Their hooves clopped hollowly as they started up a ramp to overlook the storage yards. “What is stronger: Copper, tin, or maybe an alloy of the two?”
“I thought smithing was supposed to be Hammer Strike’s area of expertise,” Night Terror teased.
“A good soldier should know where one’s weapons come from,” Pensword answered with a chuckle.
“And the tools for his craft?”
“Of course. It’s good to know how to take care of them, handle them, where they come from, how they’re made. All so one can take care of them correctly.”
“And where do your tools for romance come from? After all, you already managed to woo two mares. I’m curious. What’s your secret?”
“I’m just me.” Pensword shrugged as he brushed a hoof along one of the sturdy stone walls of the storehouse. The structure was coming along well. It had already expanded a great distance. “I stay true to my heart and the course of action I choose.” His smile widened into a hint of a smirk. “And I can see you swing your wings around me just a little. At this point, I think I can safely say you at least have a crush.”
Night Terror sighed and shrugged as she looked skyward. “Who can say? I’ve never been in love before. My whole life before was serving my father and the house. All this freedom is wonderful, but it’s confusing, too.”
“Which is why you can trust and lean on any of the Bear Clan for help. We know this is new, and in some ways, a protection. After all, both of us could be under your father’s crosshairs.” He chuckled. “Someone of your stature and mind shouldn’t be treated like some … tool.” He spat at the word. “You should be free to become the mare you want to be, no matter what that may be, from Solar Court Noble to berserker in the Everfree forest.”
“Have you actually met a berserker before?” Night Terror asked curiously.
“Yes, back when I was learning under the tent of my Grandmother.”
“What are they like?”
“Barely contained rage. They are always tense, on alert, and will start brawls for the fun of it. On the battlefield, they’re like mad bears, feeling little pain as they bowl through lines and enemies with reckless abandon. They are a foe I would wish only on the worst sorts, but an ally who would go to the very pits of Tartarus for you if they thought it needed to be done.”
“Isn’t there a risk of them turning on you if they enter such a rage?”
“We give wide berths for them, and we never get in front of them. Years of experience have taught us that they often differentiate by scent in that stage. Any scents that they’ve been around for a long time, they won’t attack. They might fight over them, toss them aside even, but never hurt the scents they know. That’s why berserkers are always in the midst of a camp, to learn the newcomers’ scents and spend time with new recruits or visitors.”
“Have you ever gone berserk before?” Night Terror asked curiously.
Pensword paused and thought back hard. “When I took Fort Triumph, I suppose. At least that’s the closest I’ve come. I saw Red, and all I could focus on were the Gryphons that destroyed my family and town. I tore through that place like a Gryphon recruit starving for prestige. For a Thestral, that’s an impressive feat. I had help, of course. I couldn’t have done it alone. But yes, I’d say that was my biggest rage moment. Go talk to Grif about what he remembers. He can probably tell you more.”
“Maybe later. It’s too nice a night to go barging into his sleeping quarters. Besides.” Night Terror giggled. “I don’t think his wives would approve.”
Pensword chuckled. “You’re teasing me. You’re actually starting to loosen up. I wonder what the old mare who first arrived here would have said. How scandalous.” He smiled. “It’s about time. Your family was starting to worry.”
“Baby steps, Pensword. Baby steps,” Night Terror reminded him. Then she picked up the pace. “Come on. We’ve still got more to see for this inspection of yours, don’t we? I’d rather not keep Moon River waiting any longer than she has to. You know how she gets when she wants to play.”
“I know, I know.” Pensword smiled. “You make it more challenging for her, you know. She likes that.”
Night Terror smiled. “If the courting doesn’t work out, at the very least, I still want to be her aunt. She’s too cute not to want at least a piece of her.”
Pensword chuckled. “She does have that effect on people, doesn’t she? All right. Consider it done.”
The air filled with the now all-too-familiar purple flash as Princess Twilight Sparkle teleported into the castle’s main entry hall. As one cleared from the wardings, it was no surprise for the troops to see her arrive. Blinding, perhaps, but not surprising. The familiar squat shape of her brother and number one assistant stretched and yawned while Twilight fussed over a cape that swathed her. “This is so embarrassing,” she muttered. Silver and purple stars of varying sizes dotted the deep purple of the fabric while a hemming of ornate billowing clouds spread from the edge of the lining.
“It’s Rarity,” Spike pointed out. “You know how much style means to her.”
“I mean, I’m flattered she thought of me, but I’m not so sure capes are really my thing.”
“You didn’t think that when you dressed up as Star Swirl,” Spike pointed out with a playful smile.
“I didn’t think my ears would be ringing with bells for the next week after either,” she muttered. Then she sighed. “Well, the least I can do is put its protection to the test for the practical exams.”
“You’ll wipe the floor with those mages either way,” Spike said. “I mean, you are the element of magic, after all.”
“That doesn’t make me invulnerable, Spike.”
“But it sure makes you look cool.” Spike smiled. “You’ve gone horn to horn with Clover the Clever. Strike that, you’re the descendant of Clover the Clever and Hammer Strike! I mean, how cool is that?”
“I guess so.” Twilight sighed. “It just puts that much more pressure on me, too. It’s hard to cope with sometimes.” She smiled slightly at the Dragon. “Promise to come cheer for me after you finish with Hammer Strike?”
Spike grinned. “Of course! What else are little brothers for?”
“Do you really want me to answer that?” Twilight asked with a smirk.
“On second thought, … nevermind.”
Both looked at each other, then laughed. Twilight wrapped a hoof around the drake in a hug. “Thanks, Spike. I needed that.” Then she rose and turned toward the main doors. “I’ll keep an eye out for you.”
Spike shot her a thumbs up. Then the doors opened, and she passed into the courtyard, where Clover and the other mages of the current class waited. Spike waved until the doors boomed shut again at the urgings of the gatekeepers, and then he was alone in the hall with just himself and the guards on patrol. He swallowed.
“Guess I’d better get this over with.” It was one thing to bump into Hammer Strike casually or hang out. It was quite another to receive a summons directly from the Pony that was technically his adopted many-greats-grandfather.
The journey to the great hall and the throne room that followed was perhaps one of the longest in his life, but traverse it he did. The doors groaned with a terrible sound as he pushed them open. Someone really needed to oil the hinges on those things. Hammer Strike sat at the far end of the hall on a massive throne made from….
The drake gulped when he took in the Dragon scales and the bones jutting out over the armrest. His heart rate picked up, but he knew he had to approach. After all, it was Hammer Strike. Even if it was a … bigger, more scarred, … glowy-eyed version. He chuckled nervously and rubbed the back of his head as he drew closer to the throne. “Uh, hey, Hammer Strike,” he greeted awkwardly. “What’s up?”
“Hello, Spike.” Hammer Strike gave a small smile. “I apologize for having to bring you along with Twilight, but there was something that I needed to confirm with you.”
“Me?” Spike pointed at himself with a claw. “Well, sure. I mean, if you need my help with something, that’s kind of my thing. Uh, … what is it you need to confirm, exactly?”
“Something you wouldn’t know yourself, but with a test, can be confirmed.” He raised his voice. “Yharon, you can come in now.”
Spike’s eyes widened at the sight of the fully grown dragon that padded into the space. Twilight had told him about the Feather Dragon, about how he was precious to Hammer Strike, how he was different from other Dragons because of his capacity for magic. But she never mentioned anything about just how big Yharon was. The dragon had to be as big as, if not larger than, Garble and his posse put together. The voice that emerged from the creature’s maw was gentle and refined. No bravado passed from those lips. No threatening stance was taken. He was completely at ease with the throne room and his proximity to the new Hammer Strike.
“Hello, Spike. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.” Yharon casually approached and extended a hand in greeting.
“Uh, hi,” Spike returned, having once again been blindsided by meeting such a grown up Dragon. He took Yharon’s offered hand, and the much larger talons encased his own.
Yharon smiled reassuringly. “Glad to finally know you. But now that we have the niceties out of the way, I need to ask your permission to do something, Spike.”
“And what’s that?” Spike asked nervously as Yahron released the grip on his hand.
“Father would like me to perform a spell on you. It’s nothing harmful, merely something to verify certain information that’s fallen into our metaphorical laps of late. However, as one of my scaled cousins, you hold a natural resistance to most forms of magic unless you either trust the source or give that source permission. I know you don’t have grounds to trust me yet, but since you have Father to vouch for me, would you be willing to grant me permission to cast this spell on you?”
“What’ll it do?” Spike asked.
“I suppose the best way to explain it is that it will give me a view of your essence and the ties it has to others. It’s not harmful in any way, shape, or form, I assure you.”
Spike shrugged. “Well, I mean, if that’s all, I guess it’s okay, but I still don’t get how that’s supposed to help Hammer Strike.”
Yharon smiled as his body began to glow. “You might be surprised.”
A light glow surrounded Spike as the magic took its effect. The young drake chuckled at the tingly sensation. Vapors rose in varying hues of purple, green, silver, and finally a familiar blue. Yharon nodded and the magic faded. “It’s there, all right.”
“Uh, what’s there?” Spike asked. “I didn’t accidentally eat some sort of valuable magical artifact or something, did I?” He began to probe his stomach gingerly.
Hammer Strike shook his head. “No, he simply confirmed what I was curious about. To put it simply, you were never told where your egg came from, correct?”
“Yeah,” Spike said. “So what?”
“Though I don’t know the complete origin, I do know where it was obtained from.” He sighed. “Your egg was found in an empire long decrepit, hidden away from the world. The Alicorn Empire, to be precise. Do keep in mind, the Alicorns of that island were quite different from the ones here and now. Celestia and Luna are one of the last to come from that place before its fall.”
“So, are you saying somepony took my egg when the island fell?”
“Celestia found your egg many years after it had fallen. The empire had … tampered with your egg, adding onto it to create something they could manipulate. The chamber you were found in was conducting experiments on my genetics to create soldiers with my strength. Most of them failed, but you, on the other hand, survived, unable to hatch until an abundance of magic could break the shell.”
Spike frowned. “That … doesn’t make a lot of sense, actually.”
“Which part of it?”
“Well, Yharon said Dragons like me, scaled ones, I mean, are supposed to be resistant to magic, right? So if that’s true, then how could Twilight have hatched me in the first place? It just doesn’t make sense to me.” He frowned.
“I have a feeling her outburst of magic may have had more to it.” Hammer Strike frowned. “After all, the records of that day did specify it as … completely abnormal at best. Someone, or something, had assisted, most likely.”
“So, … what does all this mean, then? Is something wrong with me?”
Yharon chuckled and shook his head as he approached the young drake and laid a hand on his shoulder. “It means welcome to the family, Spike.” He smiled. “Or should I call you little brother?”
Spike blinked in disbelief as he peered first at Yharon, then at Hammer Strike, and his primary processes ground to an immediate halt. “Uh, … what?”
“My genetics were added to your egg, Spike. In other words, though you have a mother and father who are Dragons, the Alicorns essentially added myself to your family tree, making you almost like a son to me, since you are a direct line from myself,” Hammer Strike explained.
“Oh.” It took a few minutes for those words to really sink in. Finally, a big grin spread over Spike’s face. “Cool!” he cheered.
Hammer Strike blinked a few times. “You took that better than I anticipated.”
“How many people can legitimately say they’re directly related to Hammer Strike?” Spike asked.
Yharon chuckled. “He does have a point, Father,”
“Just wait till I tell Twilight! I mean, we were already family before, but now I can say it’s by blood!”
“That … is going to be interesting.” Hammer Strike hummed. “I suppose that will have to wait until Clover’s lessons are done.”
“That reminds me. I promised Twilight I’d watch her at the assessment matches today after we finished here. You guys wanna come help me cheer her on?”
Hammer Strike gave a brief chuckle. “Though I won’t do much cheering, I suppose I can at least guide you,” he commented, standing from his throne. “You’re free to go about your day, Yharon. That should be everything. Unless you wish to talk more with Spike, learn more about your ‘new’ family member.”
Yharon smiled. “You read my mind, Father. Besides, I haven’t seen Mother in combat in ages.”
“Sadly, that isn’t going to change.” Hammer Strike chuckled. “Unless you’ll be pleased with the most basic of sparring matches at best.”
Yharon grinned. “And since when have you known Mother to hold back when she’s teaching?”
The air was cool and moist as a gentle breeze blew over the Everfree Forest grounds. The Night was young, and stars shone brightly in the heavens alongside the delicate crescent moon that curved and bowed, as if with the doting smile of a loving parent. The rich grass that grew in this clearing was lush and fresh, one of the few places where the black roots of the forest’s corrupted growths seemed to yield in their voracious attempts at domination. The dark was lit by the familiar light of gold and red eyes that glowed as they basked in the radiance of the aspect that embodied their deity’s influence. From the settlement to the surrounding lands and tribes, the delegations had come, each bearing the initiates who would begin to learn that most precious of arts. For with the emergence of their deity’s name came also an emergence in powers and magics that few, if any of their kind, could understand.
At the center of that clearing, two figures stood firmly, each bearing a long bo staff. The white Unicorn’s fur shimmered under the moonlight, and the Zebra’s fur seemed to pulse in time like a living heartbeat as the moonlight filtered across her black stripes and was reflected by the white. The two equines looked at one another and nodded as the Unicorn stepped forward.
“As you all know by now, the first High Chief has returned and claimed his place as your king. With that return came the return of something very precious to you all, the name of your god, or rather, I should say your goddess.
“There is power in a name, and many deities require their subjects to know their name so that they may be properly worshipped. When this comes to pass, that god gains strength through the faith and adherence of their followers. And as a result, that god is able to grant gifts, powers, and boons to their servants as signs of favor. In many instances, these arts can be passed from generation to generation. However, if they are forgotten, then they will fade until the time comes to awaken them again. You are all here because the gifts of your clans that have diminished and wavered have gained new strength through your worship.
“The wolf has awakened. The seers are no longer blind. The astral now joins the material. And the dead regain a listening ear. These arts are connected to your patron, yes. But more importantly, they are tied to your spirits and the planes to which they are attuned, with all their wonders and dangers. It is the duty of myself and my sister, as requested by your High Chief, to train you in how to control these gifts, so that you may in turn teach others these basics until we are able to train proper teachers to guide each of the tribes and clans who awaken to these powers.”
His gaze travelled over each of the gathered Ponies. They varied in age from young foals to fully grown mares and stallions. “To those who do not know me, I am Vital Spark, friend to your High Chief and to Commander Pensword. To those who do know me, forget that you do. I am to be your teacher first, no matter what our relationships outside of this space may be.” He motioned toward the Zebra. “This is my sister, Zecora. Since the powers that you have unlocked are tied into the spirit, it is our duty to train you in the arts that will grant you control in these fields. In short, we are to train you to become as we are, shamans, with all the rights and privileges such an office entails.”
Zecora knocked her staff on the turf and gazed on the Thestrals with her own radiant yellow eyes. “Know that this path is not a joke. Without proper training your fires will stoke beyond the bounds of your control, and you and loved ones will pay the toll. Heed our words if you are wise, else harsh lessons await, and you lose what you prize.”
The students remained solemn and silent as they listened.
“As I said before, the purpose of this gathering is to teach you control. We aren’t equipped to help you to the end of your journeys. And frankly, it is unlikely that they will end for any of you in this life alone. However, as you have noticed, we are not Thestrals, nor are we necessarily well versed in Thestral culture. My sister may be, but I assure you that I am not. We will require you to put aside certain traditions and traits for the sake of proper communication and learning. If you have a question, you are encouraged to ask it. If you are spoken to, we ask you to respond. We will have no fancy titles or hidden languages here. However, we will also have respect and kindness. Troublemakers will not be tolerated. And for anyone who attempts such things, know that my sister and I are far better versed in our arts than you are in yours. To put it in terms that may come more easily for you, our rank is Teacher. Your rank is Student. Our power is tried and honed. For many of you, you have yet to even scratch the surface.
“Now, then. Since we’ve established that little bit of order, I would ask that each of you form up in circles around my sister. She will guide you each through the basic principles associated with our arts, starting with the most essential part of the equation, finding balance. I will join you all shortly. However, before I do so, I need to have a word with Pensword.” He nodded and pointed with his staff. “Go on now. I’ll see you all soon.”
The students looked at the commander with pity as they followed Zecora. Even among the Thestrals, in most cases, anyone getting called out before the first class had even begun was a bad sign.
Pensword looked nervous and dejected as his friend approached. His ears drooped with his head as he waited for whatever criticism the Unicorn might have for him. He hadn’t even had a single lesson yet.
“You look like someone just died, Pensword,” Vital Spark noted bluntly.
“Vital, here in the present, this is on the heels of pretty much everyone coming down on me for all my failures. And … being called out in front of the class on the first day, before the first lesson, is usually a big sign of disfavor between the teacher and the student.”
“I said I was going to be a teacher first here, and I meant that, Pensword. But I would be a failure if I chose to be that kind of teacher without giving you a proper chance.” Vital shook his head. “I’m pulling you aside because you’re one of the few Ponies here that’s actually had the chance to experience at least a fragment of training in his gift. And unlike the others who have come here, you’re still the only Pony with the gift to see beyond the veil of death, at least with this batch. I want to find out exactly how far that training and discipline went before we join the others.”
“Well, I can explain what I remember. It’s just we don’t talk to folks outside of our circle.” He sighed. “But since you are the teacher, I can tell you what I was taught, both by the living and the dead. You are entitled to that knowledge.”
“I don’t necessarily need it in-depth, but what you can tell me would be appreciated, so we can help you reach your full potential. Your peoples’ arts were already degraded significantly, judging by the amount of time that’s passed since they worshipped Bonnie last. Telling me what you already know now will save us a lot of redundancy later.”
Pensword nodded. “Well, usually, it takes decades for one with my gift to even hear, let alone see those who have passed on. Even then, how I gained the full sight was just as rare as two blue moons in the same month. My thaumic field probably helped that to develop. Second, well….”
The conversation was a slow one as Pensword peeled back the layers of his experiences to help his teacher understand and perceive as much as possible.
Vital Spark nodded sagely. “Given what you’ve told me here and what we’ve experienced in our travels, it’s obvious that our two arts are going to be separate. While Zecora and I are capable of making contact with the astral plane, our primary mode of contact lies with spirits of nature, rather than of the dead. For those who are dreamwalkers or can see the future, Zecora and I will be able to help, because those have to do with mastery of the mind and body to unleash the potential of your spirit.
“Your case, however, is unique. Rather than controlling your own spirit, you reach out and communicate with those who have yet to pass into the afterlife. And given the fact that you have a spirit guide available whose gift is knowledge, you have an invaluable resource, a sort of built-in tutor, if you will. Tell me, how often do you commune with him?”
“Every evening, or our version of morning. He helps to make sure the Gryphons and other spirits stick to my schedule. After the spirits leave, we usually have a brief discussion about the things I’ve learned, followed by guided instruction. I didn’t exactly have much time to get trained properly during the war, and Dakota hadn’t come to me yet, so I was sort of on my own. He’s trying to help me break some habits.”
“And you can call him anytime and anywhere?”
“Yes.” Pensword smirked. “He’s been staring at you for the last ten minutes. He seems mildly proud of your questions.”
“Good. Then we’ll have a lot to talk about and focus on in the near future. I’ll need to consult with Zecora over how to proceed with Dakota. We may be your earthly teachers to help you unlock your spiritual potential on the physical plane, but he’s likely to be your greatest asset when it comes to understanding and navigating the climbs and the pitfalls of the veil and those who lie beyond. I may not be your teacher in thaumaturgy anymore, but it’s clear that we’re still going to have a lot of ground to cover.” He smiled and spoke into the air. “Dakota, I give you my thanks. However, your charge and I have a meditation session to get to. We’ll chat later.” Vital Spark motioned toward the group. “Come on, Pensword. Let’s see what tricks we might be able to pick up for you to learn.”
Pensword looked at Vital. “You do realize that if you ever need to have a conversation, I am going to be a translator?”
“Good. That’s more practice to have under your belt.” Vital’s smile widened. “Now come on. I want to see just how well you can calm that processor of yours,” he said as he tapped the side of Pensword’s head.
Grif Sat alone hidden in the vault he’d created in the compound. With the continual expansion of the clan and his own family, finding places to be alone had become tricky. He looked over the manuals before him for the third time, reassuring himself that while the feng shui around him was not perfect, it was far from harmful.
His time with Zecora’s help learning to stoke his internal furnace had ended relatively early on with the discipline he intended to follow being different than her own. Most of all, because it was a human discipline. From what he could tell, there was no Equestrian full equivalent to cultivation. The stoking of one’s inner self to pursue the perfection of body and soul was indeed common in Equestria, but the use of anything besides magic to do so was relatively unheard of.
Thankfully, in the multitude of books and texts he’d brought from Earth, he’d managed to uncover a handful of guides on the subject. Even so, there was a lot he had to work out himself, given that he needed to create a way to make use of his energy without interfering with his internal magical field, his divine seed, or his thaumic field. When he’d first managed to enter his dantian, not long after returning home from his run-in with Sombra, he found the ki sea a spiraling frothing mass, like waves being thrown about by a hurricane. In the center of this great maelstrom, he found, to his shock, his divine seed. It was neither white nor holy, like many would expect, but a thing pulsing with billowing windy power as it threw his spiritual energy around like a tantruming child.
Even now, as he closed off his mind to the world and entered that sea, he found the storm angry as ever before. With a careful but firm will, he bent the energy within and forced it to slow. The ki calmed gradually and returned to the center. A subtle current still spun the force around the divine seed, however, due to the will that seemed to flow from that source. With concentration, he directed the energy into the meridians, letting it feed and nourish the body. As it brought back the black filth that was ever accumulated in the mortal body, before the ki sea could try to purge it, it was detected by the thaumic field and destroyed. Grif couldn’t help but grin at this. It was unfair compared to the normal way such filth was expunged, but it seemed his unique mix of powers had their own advantages.
Once he concluded this daily process, he began to cultivate, attracting the essence which Equis so richly produced into his dantian and compressing it into ki, which would add to the storm, prompting the calm pond to return to the hurricane as he did. The power flowed gradually under his careful supervision as the sea spun and stretched.
As this cycle progressed, Grif allowed his mind to wander. The action slowly became easier, requiring less involvement from his active mind. By the time he thought to check the time, three hours had already passed by. With a grin to himself, Grif allowed his consciousness to return. He stretched, cracked his neck, and worked his joints before turning to leave the room. The effects of cultivation were already becoming evident. His lack of sleep had become less and less draining on him the more he worked at this. Soon, he’d be able to push himself to more intense training, and then he’d truly start to see what this discipline could offer him.
The great amphitheater that was the meeting hall of the House of Nobles was awash with the murmur of speculation and rumor. The more time passed, the more Ponies of all the houses streamed through the various entrances. What had started as a mere summons for a basic session was clearly developing into something far more serious. The Solar Court had not been gathered in this manner since the legislation to restore the army to Equestria. And before that, to be gathered in such a body by the urgings of the princess was practically unheard of, save in times of crisis.
Suspicious glances passed between the parties as the various factions sized up their competitors in search of any signs that might indicate a foreknowledge of the events that were to come. Nopony gave anything away. Those who speculated either made fools of themselves or increased the fervor that was rapidly taking hold of the stallions and mares who even now had begun to take their places on the tiers surrounding the pit below. The two princesses’ thrones sat in rigid repose, unyielding to the suspicious glares and probing minds that beamed upon them, as if through concerted effort, the very materials from which the furniture had been made would reveal the hidden agenda of the diarch who had summoned them.
“She’s already pulled rank from some of our oldest houses. The thought of what else the princess might have in mind this time churns my stomach,” Jet Set murmured wearily to Fel Jade.
“At least it’s not going to be an execution,” Fel Jade returned. “Celestia would never pull something so barbaric.” She shuddered and shook her head, as if to dispel the ghost of a terrible memory. “By the looks of things, this is to solely feature the Solar Court. I don’t see a single Thestral among us.”
“Please, don’t jinx it,” Jet Set murmured in disgust.
“There will be time enough for worry later, ladies.” Lord Blueblood’s voice was at once smooth as gelato and cold as shaved ice. “For now, let us prepare, rather than allow uneasiness to scatter our thoughts and run them over a cliff. We’ll see what comes in due course and act accordingly.”
Fel Jade sputtered her annoyance. “I still hate it.”
In the lower rings, the more liberal nobles huddled in their own private conference. Twilight Velvet gazed between Platinum, Fancy Pants, and Hurricane.
“Do any of you know what’s going on?” Twilight Velvet asked as she looked hopefully toward Fancy Pants.
“Don’t look at me,” Fancy Pants protested. “I’m afraid I haven’t the foggiest.”
“The speaker doesn’t know the agenda? Now that is rare. I thought the officers always knew what the commander wanted them to do,” Hurricane said with a throaty chuckle.
“Lightning, you know full well that Celestia isn’t always forthcoming about her intentions,” Platinum chided.
“There are a lot of nervous Ponies here,” Lightning said. “All we need is for someone to lock us in here for all Tartarus to break loose.”
“Now, now, old boy, let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Fancy Pants soothed. “No one is in trouble, and no one is getting locked in.”
Hurricane stared flatley at his colleague and ally. “I’m a soldier, Fancy Pants. If I don’t plan ahead, the soldiers under my command can die. I prefer to have contingencies in mind, especially in unfriendly territory,” he noted as he eyed the upper rings.
Fancy Pants shook his head. “They wouldn’t dare in public. To try anything rash would only place them at a greater disadvantage than they already find themselves in, now that their wealth and influence have been diminished. They aren’t going to gamble what they have left so lightly.”
What deliberations remained to be had were soon put on hold as a bright flash of light overhead seared through the murmuring to usher in the quiet that only a formal royal presence could command. The princess’ face was demure and perfectly calm as she descended slowly to the ground. Her golden horseshoes and peytral were freshly polished, and her mane and tail seemed particularly radiant as those ancient eyes gazed on each and every noble present.
“Mares and gentlecolts, you have my thanks for responding so swiftly to my summons. Rest assured, I do not call you all here lightly. I apologize for the deception, but I wished to gather without raising alarm or spreading any ill rumors over the events that are even now unfolding around us.” The murmur rose again, and Celestia had to raise her voice to speak over it. “As a number of you may be aware, there is an ancient and, indeed, sacred law throughout our land regarding the succession to power and the right to rule not as princess or regent, but as a true and rightful king or queen.”
She paused a moment to let her words sink in as many Ponies began to look sick. Others still looked bewildered or pale. The majority, however, were confused.
“I have gathered this session today because a claim to the right of dominion has been made, and as the legislative body of this nation, it falls to you to act as witnesses in this trial.”
The chamber erupted into a bedlam of noise ranging from cries of shock to the most strenuous of objections.
Amid the chaos, Lord Blueblood rose to his hooves. His horn glowed as an aura wreathed one of his hooves. Then he let it fall with a deliberate strike. The reverberation that carried through the chamber echoed with the force of a thunderclap. “I think,” he began as all eyes turned to him, “that it would be best for the princess to explain before this illustrious body falls to anarchy.” His cool blue eyes fell on the solar diarch. “If you would, Princess Celestia? I have my own objections to voice after the legislative body has been informed.” The stallion exuded calm and a cold aloofness ingrained through years of practice. The only sign of his displeasure that could be noted lay in the one violent thrashing of his tail as the floor was yielded yet again to the princess of the sun.
“I thank you, Lord Blueblood, for helping to bring us back to the point at hand.” Celestia nodded to the stallion and the crowd. “Long ago, in a time before the Discordian Era, before Hearth’s Warming, two young fillies were spirited away from the destruction of their home with their sole guardian. Together, they traveled many miles over the span of years to reach the land that would one day come to be known as Equestria.
“In due course, that family grew in prominence and stature among the races that dwelled there. And over decades, dominion was achieved, along with the creation of what would become one of the most prominent kingdoms to ever exist, with a power so great that not even the Gryphons in their prime could stand against it.
“The wielder of that power was known as king, and he ruled justly, raising his two charges in his role as guardian to ensure that they would one day grow to be honest, faithful, and true leaders in their own rights. Those charges were Luna and myself. And when the time came for us to stand and rule in our guardian’s place, we knew we did not wish to do it as queens.
“As such, it was agreed between us that a challenge must be set to identify the one who was worthy to take up that mantle. There is great significance in three. There were three gods who were responsible for the forging of this world. Over the course of our growth, a third joined our ranks as a sibling. And by royal decree, only one who is able to find and wield the three great arms of that king shall bear the right to rule.”
Celestia’s horn glowed as she carved the outlines of the three weapons into the air. “The Might of the sun, whose unrestrained power beats down upon the land and can render even the greatest and most solid structures to so much slag is embodied in a mighty hammer. The power of the moon, revered by the Thestrals, lay within a mighty sword with grip and pommel as black as night and blade a boney white bleached like the moonlight. To wield this weapon is to wield control over all the clans of the Thestrals, wherever they may be. And lastly, that which was born of the two made one, the scythe that made the world tremble at its making, for it was born of the union of two heavenly forces, and so became more than the sum of its parts. Though he was not a god, this king forged the divine. The sun, the moon, and the divine union. These three weapons are the crown jewels of this king’s legacy. These three great arms protected our nation. And these three great arms will decide who bears the true right to rule.”
With a final flourish of her horn, the forms she had projected faded, and Celestia was left to gaze upon the gathering. “This law has stood immutable and unchangeable throughout our rule from the moment the king left us to this very day. It is the one law that I refused to change or remove, despite the machinations of some of your ancestors. However, ancient though it may be, it is still valid, and anypony has the right to stake their claim and present their case to me, my sister, and the nobility.”
“And who, pray tell, is foolish enough to waste this body’s time with such a preposterous claim?” Blueblood asked. “Those weapons were lost to time. Not even you know where they were hidden. And you expect us to believe that another has found them in your stead?”
It was at this point that the doors were thrown open once more as a unit of Gryphons and Ponies strode in, armored with weapons sheathed. Blast and Tower led the Ponies to one side of the room as Grav’var led the Gryphons to the other.
Horns ignited. Wings were raised as Pegasi prepared to take flight. Earth Ponies flinched back or tensed to brace themselves against a potential invader. The troops that arrived did nothing more, however. There was no drawing of arms, no lunge or act of aggression. The Pegasi that had taken to wing hovered uncertainly. Then it hit. The world seemed to become almost muted as a great pressure filled the room. Pegasi fell like stones. The harmony of the Unicorns’ magic was muted and silenced as the vibration was snuffed with the lights they projected. And as for the Earth Ponies, well, they stumbled against their chairs and ultimately fell, as if disoriented.
“You fail to understand one thing,” Hammer Strike’s familiar voice called out as he slowly strode forth through the doorway. There was a collective gasp at his appearance, despite the fact that everypony knew exactly who he was. “While the weapons may have been lost to everyone, they were never lost to the one who made them and hid them.”
Celestia smiled. It was all she could do to hold back the smirk that threatened to slide over her face. “Lords and ladies of Canterlot, I give you our claimant to the throne, Lord Hammer Strike of New Unity.”
The gathering erupted into an uproar, for the stallion that was irrefutably Hammer Strike had been through some very drastic changes since they had seen him last. For one, the imposing figure now stood taller than their diarch. His eyes, which had once been so piercing, now glowed with an unnatural light as his great blue coat clung perfectly to his frame, despite the growth spurt he had experienced. His scars, those that were visible at any rate, had become more prominent. And when he strode down those stairs, there was no sense of respect, nor of familiarity, only the steady gait of one who knew the command of absolute authority and wielded it without even the slightest exertion. It would be better to say that he exuded it, rather than commanded it as he finally reached the bottom and joined Princess Celestia. A single twitch of an eyebrow and one very strong stamp of his hoof forced silence over the chamber, along with a light shower of dust from the ceiling while the tremor subsided.
“It has been many long years since I ruled Equestria, though clearly many things have changed.” He sighed. “Not all for the better. So, I deemed it time to return completely, and to reestablish how things should be.”
“Rule Equestria? How dare you?” Sapphire seethed. “Equestria was founded by the two sisters. Everypony knows that.”
“It’s an insult to everything Equestria stands for!” Fel Jade cried.
Hammer Strike reached to his side as Ulkrusher appeared in his hoof, before flipping it in his grip and slamming it into the ground in front of him. “Then you failed to listen to my daughter’s story. While the image of myself that had been present in Equestria after my rule and before my arrival may have looked different, the one who stands before you is the one who founded this nation. I spent years raising them, fighting to form this nation and grow it, and I refuse to let you all claim falsehoods against myself.”
“It’s a lie, a compulsion,” one of the Unicorns sputtered. “Surely, the princesses would not have hidden such information from us!”
“I told them to rule in my stead,” Hammer Strike said simply as Astral Abyss formed in his hoof and followed its sibling into the ground at his side.
Blueblood’s neck bulged with the strain placed on his jaw as he gazed with a paling face. There were tales that had been passed down over generations of the monster that could kill magic. Now it appeared that the myth had been made flesh in the form of the abominable thing that stood before him. And there was nothing he could do to stop him, even if he desired. The guard that had escorted the Pony in had situated themselves neatly along the stairs and rows in such a way as to be able to neutralize any perceived threats that could arise.
“And rule we did,” Celestia said. “Incidents beyond even my and my sister’s control led to the corruption that erased Hammer Strike from history, save for the certain moments where he chose to preserve the peace, rather than assume the throne. But even then, he knew when to execute his restraint.” She peered intently around the room. “And when to unleash it. You all saw a taste of that during the sessions involving discussion over restoring our armed forces, when the Unicorn Vital Spark was taken against his will and then retrieved. Know that his wrath was far worse in the Third Gryphon war and in the time before the Discordian era.” Her eyes narrowed dangerously. “I take no pleasure in teaching in such a manner. But I must warn you. If any of you dares to insult the stallion that raised me again, I assure you, I can offer a similar lesson.”
“And what of the third?” Lord Hurricane asked as he rested his forehooves on the surface before him to get a better view of the sight below. There was neither malice nor rebellion in his tone. If anything, there was a sense of intrigue.
Hammer Strike couldn’t help but smirk as Baleful Eclipse rippled into existence on his back. Taking hold of the weapon, he spun it briefly as he pulled it off his back before planting the blade into the ground at his other side. “All three sit before you. The weapons of my rule. I, of course, am fair in these dealings. Whoever believes themselves more worthy, come forth. And if you can pick up even one of them, I would concede my rule to whomever may succeed. I’ll even lift the field over your magic.”
There was no uproar this time, but the lifting of the pressure that had stifled their connections left them feeling as one who had lost his senses and suddenly had them restored. The sudden influx left many of them unsteady. All the same, the challenge had been put forth, the promise made.
Fel Jade was among the first to reach the floor. “I assume you’ll permit an appraisal?” the noble asked.
“Feel free.” Hammer Strike nodded.
Light flowed through Fel Jade’s horn as it passed over each of the artifacts, wrapping them in a magical aura in turn. A frown passed over her face as she analyzed each of the weapons in turn. The hammer and the sword were easy to distinguish for their natures and their connection to their master. From a magical perspective, they most definitely acknowledged Hammer Strike as their master. The third weapon, however, was … unusual. She detected no signs of any form of solar or lunar magics. Instead, there was something … else.
The size of the two larger weapons and the cracks they left behind as they were planted in or on the ground left little question as to their actual weight. That meant that of the three, the scythe would likely be the easiest weapon to seize. And yet, as Hammer Strike watched, she noticed what seemed to almost be a slightest twitch at the corners of his mouth.
Still, she had to try. She seized the shaft of the scythe and tugged. There was no movement. She raised the wooden piece, seeking to use leverage to try to work the scythe’s blade loose. The weapon didn’t budge. The air rang with the familiar hum of magic as she brought her will to bear on the stubborn weapon and sought to order it to move. Her face flushed as sweat beaded her brow. She grimaced. She grit her teeth. Her face slowly turned red from the sheer effort of the exertion. And still the scythe wouldn’t move.
“Here, let me make it ‘fair,’ as I assume someone will call out on it.” Hammer Strike pulled the greatsword out of the ground and laid it down lengthwise. He then did the same with the scythe.
Fel Jade glared determinedly at Hammer Strike, then crouched down to seize the scythe’s shaft again.Once more, the weapon wouldn’t budge. Not even a mote of dust shifted. There was no grinding, no backlash, just the grunts of effort and eventually a panting exhaustion.
“Anyone else?” Hammer Strike questioned.
What followed wasn’t really beyond expectation. Candidate after candidate sought to lay claim to the weapons, any of them. None would yield. In due course, the stream of would-be-challengers petered out. Finally, the room was filled with the heavy silence that was part chastised child and part inevitable surrender. To add insult to injury, Hammer Strike once again picked up each weapon without so much as breaking a sweat and easily replaced them as part of his garb, with sword and scythe on either side and the great warhammer laying sturdily on his back. One couldn’t tell whether it was a trick of the light or not, but the stone embedded in the great weapon seemed almost to flicker as it regained full contact with Hammer Strike.
“Now that you all have finished your attempts,” Hammer Strike said as he glanced over those gathered. “We can continue.” He turned his attention to the twin thrones After a moment, another stand rose behind the two. After it secured in place, a blue rift of embers appeared above and slowly descended toward the stand, revealing the very tops of a far larger throne that took fuller shape until the great structure that had once been in the throne room in New Unity now stood proudly in proclamation of Hammer Strike’s authority.
When the process completed, Hammer Strike finally turned and took a seat, followed by Celestia, who sat demurely on her own throne. “We have much to discuss, and plenty of ‘concerns’ that you all have will be dealt with.”
“And given that I no longer am presiding over this meeting, I will serve as speaker for the duration of this session,” Celestia said. “Now, then. Let us begin.”
The weather had originally been planned for a thunderstorm over Canterlot, but an emergency royal order had been sent out, and the storm was moved back to another day. The word had gone out. All non-essential businesses were to be shut down for three hours in the afternoon, and all Ponies capable of coming had been ordered to the Palace courtyard. A monumental announcement and proclamation was to be made. And given the fact that there wasn’t an invasion or other crisis, it seemed that this was to be one of the princess’ happier announcements.
The sun filtered through the heavens with golden rays that transformed the castle into a pulsing structure that glinted and flickered like veins of liquid gold while the stones sparkled and the many colors flashed brightly. One could almost claim that it had taken on a quality similar to the Crystal Empire. The square and courtyard were packed, and a stream of Ponies stretched as far as the eye could see from the castle clear down to the city below. For the purposes of this grand gathering, trained Unicorns projected a feed of the gathering for all the Ponies to see their princess on the balcony.
Celestia looked out over the crowd from out of sight in the great hall inside and smiled. “Well, Father, I’d say we’ve got more than enough here for the announcement. Are you ready to take over?”
“Let’s get things going.” Hammer Strike nodded.
“Yes. Then I can bring the recording back to Ys.” Luna nodded.
“Strange to think that we’ll be retiring so soon,” Celestia said with a playful smirk.
Hammer Strike gave a brief laugh. “As if I’d let you off that easy.”
“We’d be ashamed if you did. That, or we’d kill you because you’re a Changeling.”
“Ah, I trained you both well.”
The exuberant roar that rose from the crowd echoed and reverberated through the surrounding space, and the trio was quite certain the shout could be heard for miles in any direction. When the crowd finally died down, Celestia raised her voice and addressed her beloved subjects. “Citizens of Equestria, thank you for answering our summons on such short notice. Many of you are doubtless curious why we should make such a call when there is no apparent enemy or threat to face.
“I tell you, my beloved little Ponies, that the reason you have been summoned is because today is a day in which all of Equestria should rejoice. It will truly be among one of the most momentous days in our long and storied history. Long ago, this nation was founded on the principles of unity, harmony, and respect. These traits were embodied in six noble Ponies who sought to defend themselves against a threat that none could overcome on their own. And they succeeded. However, a lesser known fact is that the true binding power that led Equestria to peace laid in another Pony, one who ruled as king and raised my sister and I to be rulers in his place when he finally had to leave us.
“It is our distinct pleasure, that is to say Luna’s and mine, to present that king again. Many of you have heard of him. Many of you know of his many feats. Warrior, conqueror, juror, administrator, leader, and beloved friend and mentor. Now, from the shadows of history, we raise a feat far more ancient and much more deeply venerated. Ladies and gentlecolts, I present to you King Hammer Strike, the true founder of Equestria!”
The Crowd looked up at the balcony silently, a few muzzles hung open in shock. On a rooftop nearby, as Grif snapped a Gryphon’s neck and their bow clattered to the tiles below, he laughed at the reaction as silently as he could.
Hammer Strike sighed as he stepped forward into view. “It has been some time since I have done such a speech, but I will attempt to keep things straightforward. To clarify as to my appearance, I have no doubt you have questions. The versions of myself before were simply a fragment of my whole. To move forward from that, I decided it best for my return to finally occur. I am certain many of you have worries as to the future. But know that this revelation will not come with immediate drastic changes. My daughters will continue to hold their rank and administer things within their realms of control, as they have done faithfully these many years. However, I will slowly be adjusting things from here forward for the betterment of Equestria.
“Know that I care for the wellbeing of every subject of the kingdom, and aim to improve the quality of life as such. However, this does not mean I am blind to the disregard of law or corruption that takes place around us. It will be dealt with. I will not allow such to occur under my rule.” He sighed. “But, that will all come in time. Until then, just know that things will be moving forward, no matter what lies ahead.”
The crowd was silent for a few terse minutes before the sound of stomping could be heard somewhere in the group. Soon more and more hooves joined in until the thunder of stampeding hooves rumbled over the countryside with the raucous Equestrian applause.
Hammer Strike gave a small smile. “That will conclude my speech. I know many of you had to close your businesses temporarily for this, and so I have chosen to keep things short and to the point. You are all free to continue about your days.”
The crowd murmured among themselves as they turned aside from the announcement and slowly began to filter out of the castle grounds to return to their homes and businesses. Some few media Ponies did their best to evade detection as guards systematically rooted them out and herded them toward the exit. The time for interviews would have to come later, if at all.
Back inside the walls of the castle, the princesses beamed at their father. “Well, you’ve officially completed a bloodless coup, Father. How does it feel?” Celestia asked.
“About as one would expect.” Hammer Strike chuckled. “I’m sure Grif had some fun keeping things calm.”
“I’m sure he did. Still, they took it well.” Luna nodded.
“That part, I did find surprising, but it certainly isn’t something I’ll complain about.”
“Most successful coup d'etat in Equestrian history.” Luna laughed.
“And perhaps the only one,” Celestia noted.
“That you are aware of, sister.” Luna chuckled. “It was my job to know where the bodies were buried, after all.”
“Luna, I meant the only successful coup.”
“Fair enough.” Luna shrugged.
“Indeed.” Hammer Strike chuckled. “I have a few more tasks to handle in terms of starting my rule, one of which is going to be a diplomatic visit.”
“Where to?” Celestia asked curiously.
“The Crystal Empire.” Hammer Strike gave a small smile.
“Finally going to break the news to Shining Armor and Cadence?
Hammer Strike stepped through the rift made before the Crystal Empire. The dome in the distance appeared to be holding strong, and the location had only seen minor changes in comparison to what he left it as.
“I’m glad the antenna is still working well.” Hammer Strike gave a small smile as he took in the empire.
“So, this is the last bastion of the Children of Faust,” Grav’vaar commented, looking around.
“Was. I saw to that.” Hammer Strike sighed before pressing forward toward the shield.
“Of course.” Grav’vaar nodded. “I meant that.”
“Fair enough,” he shrugged. As they drew near the shield, he ensured his augments sent out a ping to alert Vega to his presence.
The barrier protecting the Crystal Empire from the ravages of the eternal winter tundra opened easily to allow the Pony passage. And with it came a slow glissando as Vega’s voice rose from its shutdown state to active in Hammer Strike’s augments. “Greetings, Hammer Strike. It has been well over three thousand years since you last visited. Would you like a status update on the progress of the experiment?”
“If you would,” Hammer Strike replied as he continued on his way to the ‘castle.’
“With each passing generation, a proper scan of the artificial lifeforms was performed to be kept in aggregate. As you can see from the chart I’ve downloaded to your ocular enhancements, the strain you embedded into the initial subjects has since yielded a ninety-eight percent herd immunity to the effects of the control code. In the event anyone should manage to access administrator privileges, at the very most, they would only experience what some might consider a rise in charisma, making it easier to convince the crystal entities to follow their suggestions while still leaving them with the will to object.”
Hammer Strike hummed to himself. “While that’s more control than I’d like, it’s still within acceptable parameters,” he replied mentally as he looked toward the castle. “We’ll continue this shortly after I conclude my business.”
“Of course.”
The crystal guards he encountered moved aside pretty much instantly. Changeling lanterns were present, so there was no reason to block him in their eyes.
“Is Cadance in the throne room?” he questioned the guards.
“Of course,” one guard responded. “Should we tell her you’ve arrived?”
“Sure, and please have Shining Armor be aware as well. His presence would be appreciated.”
The two guards immediately sped off in separate directions as two more moved in to take their place.
Hammer Strike had the layout of the entire empire in his mind, so moving to the throne room took no time at all. “Grav’var, would you mind waiting outside the door?”
“Of course, Sir! I will be here when you need me,” the Gryphon said, resting his axe on the ground to the noted discomfort of the guards. To be fair, the axe was probably the same size as they were.
The throne room was, as ever, grandiose, elegant, and perfectly symmetrical. Queen Cadance sat atop her throne, surrounded by great purple gems. A long carpet led to the base of the dais and climbed the stairs to where she waited to address the new visitor. That is, until she saw the condition of said visitor.
“Hammer Strike?” She gaped at the stallion, taking in his glowing eyes, increased height, and far more prominent scars. “What in Faust’s name happened to you?”
“A lot.” Hammer Strike sighed. “Basically, I’m whole now in comparison to the versions of myself that were here before.”
“And by whole, you mean…?”
“I’m sure you’ve noticed that I am quite different, being that I have grown and currently have glowing bits that used to be eyes.”
“And how does this make you whole, exactly?”
“I’m several thousand years old. The versions of myself before were just fragments of a whole. Hence why they were shorter, and not quite what I am currently.”
“Cadance? I heard that Hammer Strike was—” Shining Armor strode into the main hall and gaped at the stallion. “Who-wha-Hammer Strike, we, uh … weren’t expecting you so soon. Or … so … glowy.”
“You’ll get used to it,” Hammer Strike replied simply. “So, now that both of you are here, there are some things I should address.”
“Is this the emergency saving the world kind of address or more a casual sort of address?” Cadance asked.
“A little of the latter, followed by more of a third option.” Hammer Strike shrugged. “One major thing to address, as I’m certain you will receive news of it quite soon, I’ve taken rule over Equestria once more. And yes, I did say once more.”
Shining armor frowned. “You mean like what happened in the Third Gryphon War?”
“No, as in I am now the legitimate King of Equestria, effective this morning.”
“And the princesses were okay with this?” Shining asked intently.
“They are my daughters. And considering I founded Equestria, it was technically always my role.”
“I’m sorry. Did you just say you founded Equestria?” Cadance asked.
“Yes, hence my comment of being several thousand years old.”
“But you’re not an Alicorn,” Shining objected. “I mean, no offense, Hammer Strike, but how could you manage to live for that long? Not even Star Swirl the Bearded managed that.”
“That moron of a spellcaster could only do so much within his self-limitations,” Hammer Strike replied bluntly. “I was altered to secure my age as I am, up until I found an alternative method of stopping my aging. I need not be an Alicorn to achieve this.”
Shining armor squinted as he looked over Hammer Strike intently. “He doesn’t look corrupted,” he said. “And if he were sick, someone would’ve sent word ahead.” He rubbed his chin. “Did The Doctor have anything to do with this?”
“He brought me to this point in time, but he did not assist in the halting of my aging, nor my rule of Equestria.” Hammer Strike sighed. “You know, I should probably get this part out of the way, too… Cadance, do you know a spell to check familial relations between two individuals?”
Cadance frowned. “Yes. As the Alicorn of love, binding families and detecting those ties is an intricate part of my magic. Why do you ask?”
“I’ll explain afterwards. Perform it between Shining Armor and myself. Don’t ask questions. Just please do it, and then I’ll give some more answers.”
“... All right. Though I’m not entirely certain what you’re trying to accomplish with this. Honey, if you could stand next to Hammer Strike, please?”
“Of course,” Shining agreed immediately and quickly stood next to the tall Earth Pony.
The mare’s horn charged as the cutie mark on her flank shimmered, followed by a stream of blue energy spiralled by pulsing hearts. The energy struck the two stallions, and as it did so, Cadance’s eyes glowed white. Seconds passed into minutes as the spell continued its work and glowing lines began to trace through the throne room, pulsing toward and into Cadance to feed her energy as the spell continued its work.
“Cadance?” Shining moved to push forward, but Hammer Strike raised a staying hoof to hold him back.
“Give it a moment.”
Cadance’s body reverted to its crystal state as the spell continued to better channel the energies she needed. Finally, the stream from her horn died as she snapped her horn away and fell to the floor. She panted as the crystal coating disappeared and bowed her head weakly as her legs trembled. Shining ran to her side immediately. “Cadey, are you all right?”
“Fine. I … I’m fine,” Cadance huffed. “I just … need a minute.” She looked up at Hammer Strike. “I always knew there was something between you and Clover, but this….” She shook her head in disbelief.
“A number of generations down the line, it turns out our bloodline is still around. By the way, Shining, it’s on your mother’s side.”
Somewhere in the distance, one could hear the breaking crystals that rang through the air with the sound of shattering glass while Shining’s eyes widened.
“What?” he asked, half in disbelief, half in stunned incomprehension.
Cadance seized his chin gently and laid her head against his. “Dear, Hammer Strike is your ultimate patriarch. He started your bloodline.” She smiled softly. “Shining, you’re a Strike.” Then she chuckled. “No wonder I fell in love with you. You share your grandfather’s sense of honor.” She smirked. “And his stubborn streak.”
“On to the next thing,” Hammer Strike remarked, completely ignoring the fact that Shining.exe had officially crashed. “How would you like the next bit of news, blunt or a little more on the caring side?”
“Is it liable to break my husband?”
“This one may lean more toward you.”
Cadance raised a brow. “You may not approve, but given the fact I just exhausted myself with that reading to prove your claim, I think I’d prefer the latter.”
“Then you’ll be pleased to note you will be getting some vacation time, on top of not worrying about nobility,” Hammer Strike replied. “However, this stems from one … major fact.”
“And that is?”
“I’m technically the owner of the Crystal Empire,” he replied as a crystalline scaled replica of his throne materialized behind him, followed by him taking a seat on it. “And sadly, due to ‘recent’ incidents, I’d like to stabilize things completely here.”
Cadance stared at the throne, then at Hammer Strike, then to her husband, and finally back to Hammer Strike. “You know what? I’m too tired to process all of this right now.” She ran a hoof down her face and sighed.
“Well, I can at least fix the exhaustion on your magic,” Hammer Strike replied as he briefly connected his thaumic field to her and recharged her magic supply.
Cadance shuddered as she rose like a wilting flower refreshed by a watering. Then she shook herself to regain full focus. “While I am grateful not to be so exhausted anymore, this just leaves me with more questions. First of all, what was that? And secondly, how the flaming Tartarus did you do that with your throne? Thirdly, you said something about taking over?”
“I’m related to Hammer Strike….” Shining muttered, even as he continued to stare with glassy eyes.
“Yes, dear, you are. Now let the rulers talk,” Cadance said gently.
“I simply gave you a small portion of my power to recharge you. Second, the Crystal Empire is technically a living machine, and I am classified as the owner in its system. I can make anything out of crystal here. Third, considering the empire has resulted in the creation of Sombra, I need to start monitoring it again. I don’t mean anything ill toward anyone here, but I need to ensure everyone’s safety.”
“So, you’re kicking us out of our role as royals?”
“No, you’re still going to be ruling the Empire. It’s just that you answer me. That, and you’ll go back to the whole princess and prince titles or whatever you prefer.”
“So, it’s basically going to be like before the Crystal Empire came back?”
“Yes, but you can actively ignore most nobles. You don’t have to play nice to them. That, and I wasn’t kidding. You actually do get vacation time.”
“What about Cosy and Alto?”
“Probably going to continue almost as normal. Things shouldn’t change too much for them.”
“So, you essentially want us to go from allies to a vassal state under your authority?” Cadance asked.
“Correct.”
The mare shrugged. “You saved our lives and our home. I can’t really think of better hooves to trust, and neither would the rest of the empire, except maybe Spike’s.” She chuckled. “The Crystal Ponies worship him like a god.”
Hammer Strike shrugged. “To be honest, I’m still trying to figure out where everything split the way it did. Speaking of, that’s another topic to discuss. Between just us. Shining Armor, would you return to the moment and take a step outside?”
Shining Armor shook his head and blinked as at least a modicum of his self control returned. “Um, … sure,” he said awkwardly. “I’ll, uh … I’ll just step out for a little bit to gather my thoughts.” The normally confident stallion rubbed the side of his head as he departed the hall.
Hammer Strike sighed as Shining Armor left the room. “I nearly forgot about this, but Vega happened to serve as a reminder of the news I bring.”
“Vega?” Cadance asked.
“Cadance, the information I am about to give you is not something to take lightly, just to warn you. I will simplify it down, but it isn’t something pleasant.” Hammer Strike frowned. “The origin of the Crystal Ponies.”
“The origin?”
“Long ago, Alicorns naturally lived within this world in their own empire. Doubtless, you heard the legends from Celestia, Luna, and the remainder of the court during your stay with them. The Alicorns were quite advanced compared to the current age, but this led to their greatest flaw. They experimented on everything, living or otherwise. This place is one of their ‘outposts.’ The Crystalline Forward Operating Base, later to be turned into something ‘greater.’ They needed a workforce to handle the construction of this place, and so, they made the Crystalline Ponies, a splice between Ponies, and crystal technology.” He sighed. “Similar to golems, but living and sapient, and … enslaved. I found this place and killed the last of the Alicorns responsible before they could do more harm, but there was the matter of the Crystalline Ponies. So, in the end, I worked with Vega, an artificial intelligence, to create strains and modifications to allow you all to have the free will of any species. This, … is your true origin.”
“So, you’re saying that we’re essentially the product of a highly controversial scientific experiment, and that our original forebears were born from a test tube, rather than being crafted by Faust?”
“Yes.”
Cadance frowned. “You realize that’s exceptionally difficult to believe,” she pointed out. “I know you have no reason to lie, but … this would turn everything our citizens believe from a theological standpoint on its head. Worse yet, if word of this ever got out to the nobles in Canterlot….”
“It wouldn’t, but I believed at least you, their ruler, should know the truth, even if you keep it to yourself. Know that at least with me ruling, they will have no say in anything toward the Crystal Empire. And if I need to provide more proof about my claim…” Hammer Strike gestured to his side as a small pillar raised next to his throne. “Vega, introduce yourself, if you would.”
“Salutations, Queen Cadance. I am Vega, the artificial intelligence that was programmed to oversee the smooth operation of this command outpost in the time before the destruction of the race known as The Firstborn, or Alicorns. I am certain you must have many questions, including why I did not intervene in your time of need as a young filly. The simple answer is that I could not at the time. I am not allowed to interfere in the development of the Crystal Pony strain directly. My purpose was to ensure that the immunity to command code broadcast was properly developed in your species. I am happy to report that the inoculation designed by one of your ultimate predecessors has proven successful. It was this unit’s greatest wish that the race that would come to be known as Crystal Ponies have free will to do as they pleased. This directive also applied to the one you call Sombra, and led to a logic lock that prevented me from acting to prevent his coup. If you wish to learn more, I will gladly endeavor to provide you with all the pertinent details, assuming User Hammer Strike grants the proper authorization. Regrettably, it appears that the file on this Pony has been misplaced. It will take some time to retrieve the pertinent data from backup systems.”
“I’ll have to tweak your settings.” Hammer Strike sighed. “But, that is the general case.”
Cadance’s brow furrowed. “Command code?”
“Complete and utter control over the Crystal Ponies. Since I am still considered the Administrator, I can briefly demonstrate, if you would prefer an undeniable fact.”
Cadance shuddered. “If what you say is true, then I’d ask you to do it in a gentle way. Please.”
Hammer Strike’s eyes glowed ever so slightly brighter as he thought it over. “Let’s see…. Administrative command, Cadenza, raise your left hoof, and be unable to place it back down until authorized.”
Cadance watched with wide eyes as the hoof in question shot up immediately. Any attempts to move or lower the hoof left her magic fizzling out or her wings and free hoof stopping mere inches away from the appendage. Only when she had resolved not to move it, and merely to examine it, was she able to actually touch the part of her body that had been ordered to act. She shuddered again. “And can anyone access this … command code?” she asked sickly.
“You’re all resistant to it from yourselves and outside sources, apart from myself, since the Alicorn programing dictated that there had to be a technical ‘owner’ of this facility. You’re authorized to place your hoof down again.”
Gravity reasserted itself, and the hoof fell with a heavy clop that left a dull ringing in its wake as the crystal carried the vibration of the impact from Cadance’s horseshoes. Cadance paled as the full implications of what Hammer Strike had said struck her. “What does this mean for us after we die, then? We’ve been worshipping Faust and Sleipnir for millennia, but … they didn’t make us. Do we even have souls for them to claim?”
“I’m positive Faust has taken a step for you all. She’s quite generous in how she acts. After all, you were still made of Ponies, even in your earliest stages. There was true organic life, even from the beginning.” Hammer Strike admittedly wasn’t one hundred percent sure of it, but from the information he had, it was the most logical conclusion.
“You act as if you’ve met her.”
“I have, as well as Sleipnir; Bonnie; Bahamut; and technically not a ‘god’ of this realm, but still up there, Asmodeus,” Hammer Strike confirmed.
Cadance sighed wearily as a wing draped over her face and her head lowered. “Somehow, you always leave me with more questions, even when you answer. Do I even want to know how it is that you can to be so intertwined in the affairs of the gods?”
“If you wish, I can retrieve that information from my archives. As the core systems administrator, a backup of the data Hammer Strike accumulated within his augments is also formed in my systems in the event anything should happen to him that requires his memories to be rebooted,” Vega offered.
“That won’t be necessary, Vega. Thank you.” Hammer Strike returned his attention back to Cadance. “A useful feature, by the way. Always good to have a backup. Though the best answer I could give you is that within my thousands of years of life, I have spent many years forming a harmonious relation between all Ponies and, at one point, Gryphons. I’ve fought in several wars and even felt the backlash of the Winds being banished. Thankfully, my meetings with them have been positive, as they appreciate the lifetimes I’ve worked here.”
Cadance groaned. “That alone should be enough to get Equestria to bow to you. That practically makes you a divine envoy.”
“Shh,” Hammer Strike hushed Cadance. “I don’t need that hanging over me. I’ve already been stuck with Sleipnir’s horseshoes. I don’t need things pressed further in this age. If I’m going to set Equestria straight once more, I need to do it without provoking the world.”
“The next thing I know, you’re going to say you’re also guarding a doomsday weapon that could challenge the gods themselves.”
“Cadance, I was feared in my rule. It may have been considered the golden age of Equestria, but the Dragonlands are what they are now because of me. Not an army, not the Dragons’ own greed. I, and I alone, nearly made the Dragons go extinct.”
“And that’s how you got Bahamut involved?”
“Actually, he spoke with me about my adopted son, Yharon, the last Feathered Dragon to exist, first. Though a second meeting did follow that, which resulted in a contract to ensure I stop killing Dragons so long as they don’t kill or attack Ponies or any of my other subjects.”
“So, you’re also offering us that protection by taking over the Crystal Empire?”
“Correct.”
Cadance frowned. “Why are you telling me all of this? You could have just left it at your reasoning for adding protections to the empire, instead. It would have made things a lot simpler for you.”
“Because you deserved to know. I only hide knowledge if it is something that should be forgotten. Forever.” Hammer Strike stood from his facsimile of a throne as it was absorbed back into the crystal floor. “I have witnessed things beyond mortal comprehension, and have knowledge of things that could end this world in an instant. I will remember all of this until the day I finally pass. And even then, there is no guarantee I will forget it in the afterlife, wherever I end up. This, however, isn’t one of them.”
“I don’t know what to do with everything you’ve just told me yet,” Cadance said. She sighed and shook her head as she rose from her throne. “Somehow, you always know how to make me feel like a little filly again.”
“You’ll adapt, I’m sure.”
She smiled wryly. “Over generations or just as me?”
“One or the other.”
“And that sheer bluntness is how I know you’re Hammer Strike.” She sighed. “I’m not normally one to do this, but I think the situation calls for an ancient remedy passed down among the princesses of Equestria.”
“And that would be?”
“Cake. Lots and lots of cake.”
Hammer Strike sighed. “Ex Divinia etiam.”
The morning air was crisp and calm in Ponyville. For all intents and purposes, it appeared to be a perfect dawn. This was particularly troubling, given the fact that it was also the morning of a Tuesday. And as all of Ponyville knew, Tuesday always meant at least some form of trouble. And naturally, it fell to one or more of the Mane Six to fix it.
Button Mash sighed as the crystal tones from his joyboy cascaded through his ears. The song was simple, but granted a strange sense of peace and ethereal wonder to it, a fitting composition for the mare that now sang in pixelated perfection with harp in hand. “Sweetie Belle would love this,” he said from his place beneath the tree.
“That song sounds amazing!” a voice spoke up. Button looked up in surprise to the sight of a peach-colored filly with blond mane and pointy ears standing nearby. Her cutie mark seemed to be an ocarina with a glowing yellow triangle. Next to her was a smaller colt with similar colored fur and mane but wearing a long pointy green hat. His flank was blank.
“Thanks. It’s a new game I just got. I … thought a friend of mine might like to hear it, too. So, I guess I should say thanks for telling me you like it. You’re a girl, so she must like it, too, right?”
“I’m not sure it works that way.” She laughed. “I’m Zelda, and this is my brother Link,” she said.
Button smiled. “Button Mash. I don’t think I’ve seen you guys around Ponyville before. Did you just move here?”
“We’re from New Unity, actually, though our mother did run a shop here for a while,” Zelda said “She thought it would be good for us to come into Ponyville today.”
“Then I guess I should be saying welcome back.” Button chuckled. “Wanna try, Link?” he asked as he motioned toward his joyboy.
The colt smiled happily before taking the joy boy and starting to play.
“You’ll have to forgive him. He doesn’t talk,” Zelda said. “Thank you very much.”
“You mean he’s like Vinyl Scratch?”
“Yes.” Zelda nodded.
Button frowned. “That must be tough to get people to know what he’s thinking, then.”
“It can be, though we tend to understand one another well.” She smiled. “So, who’s this Sweetie Belle?
“She’s one of my best friends. We’re both part of the Cutie Mark Crusaders. It’s always an adventure when I’m with her.” He beamed, then frowned. “The only downside is all the baths I have to take after….”
“Just friends?” Zelda gave a teasing grin.
Button Mash blushed. “She’s not my special somepony, if that’s what you mean….”
“Of course not.” Zelda giggled. “So, she likes music?”
“Yeah. She’s got a great voice. Just … don’t ask her to do rock and roll.” He shuddered.
“Sounds like you value her friendship a lot.”
“Well, yeah, she’s great. Not always the best at video games, but she’s never afraid to try something new or different. That’s one thing I really like about her.”
“It’s nice to hear you have such a close connection,” Zelda said. “True friends are often rare.”
Button laughed. “In Ponyville? I’m not so sure that’s true. Seems like everyone’s making friends here, especially with all the new people moving into New Unity.”
“There’s a difference between friends and true friends.” Zelda shrugged.
Button frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Friendships are formed and broken every day. Ponies make and break bonds all the time, but true friends are people you find that have bonds that can never be broken.”
“So, kind of like family?”
Zelda nodded. “Though some people make their own family, but that's true.”
“But what if one of them has to move away?”
Zelda giggled. “A true friendship won’t be broken by something as trivial as distance.”
“Really?”
“Really really.” Zelda smirked.
A grinning Link crowed his triumph at the victory he had just achieved in the game, breaking the moment with his excitement as he rushed toward the two to show what he had just accomplished in the game. Button couldn’t help but smile. “Great job, Link.”
Link continued to grin, then handed the game to his sister and pointed toward the screen. A puzzle laid before the pair.
“I’m … going to guess that he does the fighting and you do the puzzle solving?”
“Oh, he’s quite apt at puzzle solving too, but he knows I enjoy a good puzzle,” she said, taking the offered system in her magic and starting to work.
“A bond that can never be broken.” Button smiled. “All right, Zelda, let’s see just how smart a puzzler you are.”
Vital Spark knocked on his teacher’s door, as he always did, with scroll in magical grip. The letter had given strict instructions to arrive as soon as he could manage and not to make a fuss about it. Given Clover’s newly acquired youth, he wasn’t sure whether that meant to move quickly and stealthily or to act as normal. He chose the latter. Watcher and his new focus both crossed over his back as he waited patiently for his teacher and mentor to grant him entry.
Clover opened the door and let Vital in quickly. “Good. You managed to keep people from suspecting anything.”
“You were vague enough to let me act my usual level of paranoid, instead of going overboard. What’s this all about, Clover? You’re not usually one to call me by mail. You usually just teleport right to me instead if you want something.”
“Sometimes, things need to be handled delicately,” Clover said. “Even more so when forces such as you and I possess are involved.”
“To clarify, when you say forces, I assume you mean…?”
“Thaumaturgy, yes,” Clover said.
“Is there a project that you need one of the aspects from my field for to assist with?”
“No. We need to start really working on your exercises.”
“I thought Grif was the one who was helping me with that.” He frowned and stroked his chin. “Then again, you’re just as qualified, I suppose. And you were already my teacher before I started my training on thaumaturgy, so it makes a certain amount of sense,” he mused. “Has Grif been told about this?”
“He has.” She nodded.
“Then, as always, I put my trust in you, Shifu.” He bowed his head respectfully.
“Let's start by reviewing what you already know, what is thaumaturgy?”
“The unique manipulation of the foundation blocks of the universe, also known as aspects. This power can only be fully utilized by those who bear a thaumaturgic field. It is a powerful and dangerous art that is said to tread on the very feet of the gods.”
“And what are the basic principles for manipulating thaumic energy?”
“One must ensure that there is enough of an aspect to control. The energy is tied directly to the capacity of the user’s field. So long as the field can reach, the thaumic skills unleashed can also stretch. The six basic aspects are the most stable and easiest to manipulate. All other aspects spring from combinations of them and are known as compound aspects. Much like a muscle, if the field is not constantly exercised, its power will wane and can ultimately expire.”
“And what are the consequences of thaumaturgy done poorly?”
“In a word, unmaking.”
“And in an explanation?”
“In the worst case scenario, the energies will fall completely outside the user’s control and result in a catastrophic release of the aspect or aspects in question, capable of widespread destruction of everything within its radius down to their base components and aspects or extending beyond to eradicate even those.”
“What is a thaumic crystal?”
“A stabilization of aspect compacted into a crystalline form. Provided it isn’t triggered by another thaumic user or by a wavelength that can disrupt its integrity, it can remain in that form indefinitely without causing any damage.”
“And what uses do thaumic crystals have?”
“In theory, an infinite number. A few examples include utilizing them for elemental attacks, manipulating the environment, and compounding into new aspects.”
“Very good. Have you been taught any formulae yet?”
“Can’t say that I have. It’s mostly been learning how to create and dispel aspect crystals up to this point. I was just on the verge of being able to attempt combining some of the base aspects, but Hammer Strike specifically says none of us are to do that for the first time without proper supervision.”
“Well then, let's start with that. Have you been told the theory?”
“I don’t know that I have yet if you mean the formulaic kind. Grif was more of a hands-on kind of teacher. He made sure I understood what I was doing before we tried anything, but for him, experience was the best teacher.”
“Very well, then. We’ll start with Thaumic formulae and equations for combining aspects.”
Vital Spark nodded. “I’m ready to begin when you are, Clover.”
Hammer Strike sighed as he put everything away on his desk. He had a few meetings to attend to, but there was something on his mind that he needed to address.
That thing being Stor E. Teller and his survival of the island. He didn’t have much of a chance to in the last few days, but he truly wanted to know more on what had happened, and given Teller was the only surviving member, he had plenty of questions.
A familiar face appeared in the doorway. “You know, they say when the Alicorns finally bit off more than they could chew, only a handful of people escaped. Among them was a prisoner they had tortured and experimented on. With him were two little fillies destined to rule,” he finished his bit as he stopped before the desk.
“To think, there was a story you held on to, and never told it a single time,” Hammer Strike remarked.
“Some stories can’t be told at just any time. Otherwise, it ruins the impact.” Teller shrugged.
“Still.” He sighed. “I honestly can’t help but find it amusing how you tested who I was, and despite failing that test horribly, you still knew it was me.”
“E mentioned the fact you’d said you were from a different time. I figured I’d met you before you’d met me.” Teller looked at him. “You just hadn’t faced the true horror that connects our stories at that time.”
“The lack of glowing eyes didn’t give it away?”
“Well, I mean, if my lack of anything resembling internal organs didn’t.” Teller shrugged.
“Fair enough.” He frowned. “You’re probably the last surviving member, besides Celestia and Luna, from the empire.”
“I suppose I might be. Me and E got separated a week after we escaped. Rockslide in a canyon. I tried to track her down but never had much luck at it,” he admitted. “Spent the years traveling from one story to another.”
“Unity would have welcomed you,” Hammer Strike added as he looked at Teller.
“I couldn’t show my face. I had the one job, and I failed. Not to mention what happened with Andre, Terra, and Tempus. I couldn’t bring myself to face you or them.”
Hammer Strike sighed, “I suppose that’s fair enough. At the very least, I can tell you something about Terra and Tempus. There’s not an ounce of bad feelings.”
“Spoke with them?”
“A request I made to Faust. In return, there is something I’ll have to make, but she has yet to deliver the supplies or explain the item she wants. I would have called for you, but we had less than twenty-four hours, and I wanted their daughters to at least see them.”
“It’s good to know they're all right,” Teller said. “They were good people.”
“They were.” He frowned. “They were, but … there’s nothing we can do about that anymore. The thing we can do is look forward and keep the momentum moving.”
“You’ve been doing a good job at that.” Teller chuckled.
“I suppose I have. But … there is something that I never did ask of you, and I suppose now might be a good time to ask. What did you specialize in at the empire?”
“I was a soldier,” he said. “Got wounded fighting the Gryphons. That’s why I'm in this suit.”
“Fair enough.” He hummed. “It does make the most sense. I admit I was slightly hoping for a different answer, but that's no issue.”
“Because of the suit still working like your augments?” he asked.
“Admittedly, yes. These augments were experimental when they were installed. And while a number of them were removed by the cube, there’re still plenty stuck in me.”
“Wish I could help you,” Teller admitted. “I can tell you they seem in working order, at least.”
“It’s honestly a miracle, and….” He frowned. “I actually can’t put it past that.”
“Yeah, I've had those thoughts, too.” Teller laughed. “But I’ve come to realize E likely made this suit too well.”
“I wouldn’t put it past her.” Hammer Strike chuckled. “She did tend to make things too well at times.”
“Would have been nice if she put in a lethal dose of morphine a few thousand years ago.” Teller chuckled dryly. “I’m old, Hammer Strike. Far too old, even for an Alicorn.”
“Yeah…. While I can’t say the exact same, my lifespan was supposed to be a hundred years at best.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I certainly have those feelings as well.”
“I’ve decided by now my role must be to see everything I can and relay it for newer generations. Really live up to the name, you know?”
“That you do.” Hammer Strike gave a brief chuckle. “Though some may ignore you, there are many that listen to those tales of yours.”
“The ones that ignore me just end up making more stories.” Teller laughed. “Of course, most won’t believe that you were in Zebrica at the same time as you were waging war with the Gryphons.”
“Yeah, that was a fun trick.” He sighed. “In any case, I’m glad you’re still around. Despite the empire’s attempts, you were a great ally and friend.”
“Well, I mean, they made both of us semi-immortal abominations.” Teller laughed. “Just good to not be alone.”
“It certainly does feel that way at times.”
Moon River giggled as she launched yet another suction cup dart toward a bobbing flame and easily snuffed it out. The living room of their chambers was filled with the whole family for once, including one particularly special guest. Nanami couldn’t help but smile at the rambunctious filly.
“She has the heart of a warrior, all right,” the kitsune said. “And much potential.”
“After what Grif taught her, I’m not surprised,” Day Moon said. Then he bowed his head respectfully. “Thank you for joining us, Sensei.”
Nanami smiled. “You cut your fangs for the first time against the dark. I’m only sorry that I missed the show. I am certain you performed admirably.”
“Your water crescent technique helped a lot.”
“Perhaps. But so, too, did your own natural gifts.” She smiled and patted the colt on the head. “I know the touch of a goddess when I see it. And it pleases me greatly to know that you have found your patron at last.”
“Bonnie, Bonnie, Bonnie!” Inigo and Cristo cheered.
“Boys, that’s enough. You don’t want to call her here, do you?” Lunar Fang chided.
“We’re just cheering for her,” Inigo said.
“She brought Day Moon back safely. Isn’t that something we should be thanking her for?” Cristo asked.
“And you can thank her as many times as you want, so long as you don’t keep shouting her name.”
“But aren’t we supposed to—?”
“If you overuse it, it could lose its meaning,” Lunar fang said.
“But we can cheer for Day Moon, right?” Inigo asked.
Nanami chuckled. “Whenever you want. By the way, your brother tells me you’re handy with a knife.”
Inigo nodded. “I’m really good with skinning.”
“And throwing?”
Inigo blushed. “Maybe a little.”
“A little can grow into something great, if it is properly tended.” She smiled. “If you ever need instruction, my door is open. And if you are at all like your brother, then I look forward to cultivating your talent.”
Fox Feather smiled. “That’s very generous of you to offer.”
“He does have the heritage of his mother, but that does not mean he should neglect the heritage of his father. If I can manage both in harmony, then I am confident that he will also.”
“Wise words,” Pensword agreed as he peeked out from the kitchen. “Assuming he keeps up with his studies and gets good grades, I’m willing to allow it.” He looked at Lunar Fang and Fox Feather. “What do you think?”
“He should be learning.” Lunar fang nodded. “First hunt comes soon enough.”
“This first hunt; I am curious about it,” Nanami admitted. “Is it performed solely for a single cub each night or do you go out in a group and then leave them to hunt alone under supervision?”
“We have a group with several warriors shadowing them, and no one bites off more than they can chew. The Gryphons believe that addition makes the test less fitting, but Threstrals believe family is the core to society.”
“A sound belief to hold. Without the wisdom of elders, the young would be doomed to repeat their mistakes, stifling growth or slowing it to a crawl. Better often for water to follow the path that has been forged than to have to forge anew without guidance.”
“Still, supervision doesn’t mean help,” Lunar Fang clarified. “The one hunting must be prepared to kill, dress, and skin their kill if necessary.”
“And then they get to enjoy a proper warrior’s welcome when they return home.” Fox Feather smiled. “With how many young ones we have in this batch coming up, it may have to be a general feast instead.”
“That will be up to the council and their families to decide,” Pensword said. “But I am inclined to believe you are right. Each of the boys has their own strengths to play to, and I’m sure they look forward to joining their brother in this passage to stallionhood.” He chuckled. “By the way, Nanami, I hope you don’t mind us sharing one of our peoples’ delicacies. It seems only fair after everything you gave to us when we visited the empire.”
The fox smiled. “After all the offerings and banquets I had to attend, Equestrian food is a welcome change. I believe I detect hints of fruit and spices, if my nose does not deceive me.”
“That you do.” Pensword’s smile widened into a grin. “Around these parts, we have a unique breed of bat that’s grown up, possibly as a lingering aftereffect of Discord’s chaos magic from the Discordian Era. They are a delicacy among our people. And the best part is you hardly have to season them.”
“Are these the fruit bats that I’ve heard so much about?”
“Vampire fruit bats, actually. I guarantee, you are going to love them.”
Nanami laughed. “Love at first sight, Pensword?”
“On the contrary. As all the world knows, the fastest way to a warrior’s heart is through the stomach.” He smirked impishly. “It will be love at first taste.”
“Then I am certain Chien-po will regret missing this opportunity. Who knows? Perhaps I will be able to share a few techniques from my homeland with your tribesponies at a later date.”
“I am certain they would appreciate the offer, provided you ask their permission first.”
“Then until that day, I suppose we shall just have to enjoy the time we have here together as friends, now won’t we?” She smiled as she grabbed the suction cup dart a stealthy little mare had launched at her head out of the air, then flung it back, which prompted a startled squeal from the filly as she toppled from her perch. Nanami was quick to act, and approached the filly with the grace and speed of both her arts. “A lesson for you, little one. Not every person you meet will take your attacks lying down. Be ready to guard yourself against those who become aware of your presence. Stealth will only serve you for so long. And once the element of surprise is lost, so, too is your advantage.” Nanami quickly picked up the filly and smoothed back her mane, then booped her on the nose. “Adapt to both circumstances and you will grow that much stronger.”
Moon River sniffled and struggled to hold back her tears.
“There there, little one. Better to learn now while you are young. Your godfather taught me many a painful lesson in a short period of time. You have many years yet to learn. And I look forward to seeing just who and what you become with that time.”
Moon River flew as fast as her wings would take her to Lunar Fang and buried her face in her mother’s mane. The occasional hitch of her breath could be heard as she struggled not to lose her composure in front of the rest of the family.
“She’ll be fine,” Lunar Fang assured them. “She just needs to learn not everyone is going to let her win.” She chuckled goodnaturedly. “It seems she inherited much of her mother’s pride. Suitable for the blood of a lion.” A wing folded gently over her back to stroke the filly’s mane. “But dangerous when not weighted by humility.”
Fox Feather chuckled. “Yup, Cosy’s definitely going to have his hooves full with that one.”
“And we are going to have our mouths full,” Pensword said triumphantly as he removed the bats from the oven. “Dinner’s ready!”
And thus a filly was humbled, a young colt praised, and new bonds established in the space of a few hours.
“And so, when the monkey king's head was not returned to him because of the treachery of the immortals, a voice was heard from deep inside his body. ‘Grow!’ And pop!” Grif made a popping noise. “A new head exactly like the old popped out to replace it.” He smiled at his cubs and his godson.
The cubs stared with wide eyes, and in the case of the twins, open beaks. The idea of an unkillable person who could always win no matter what always had an irresistible allure to children, and even to adults, particularly if the challenge is great enough to strain even those abilities.
Avalon chuckled as she preened Tazeer’s feathers. “And what happened next to our dear brother?”
“Having passed the test, he insisted the tiger strength immortal had to show he could do the same. Using a hair, Wukong created a clone of himself who then took the shape of a dog and, when the tiger strength immortal’s head had been cut clean off his body, the dog grabbed the head and ran off with it, so when the tiger tried to return his head, it would not come. Eventually, the tiger strength immortal died, and his body reverted to what it had been, the form of a simple tiger.”
“So, was this immortal a demon, a god, or something else to ascend from such a beast?” Avalon asked.
“A tiger who became so powerful it took the shape of a person,” Grif explained. “All the immortals were just animals trying to pass themselves as humans.”
“And what happened next?” Shrial asked. “Did Wukong have to fight?”
Grif shook his head. “He dealt with both immortals in a similar way. And when they were all dead, the king was forced to realize who was stronger and let them go.”
“It sounds like Earth was a world that only relied on strength for just about everything. That, and Pigsy was an absolute idiot,” Gilda grunted as she rubbed her distended stomach.
“At one time, yes.” Grif nodded as he moved to Gilda and rubbed her stomach as well. “But stories teach us lessons.”
“And did this one make a difference?”
“It changed a lot of things for a lot of people, broke the idea that their lives were beyond their control.” He smirked.
“Hmm. Now if only I could control all this bloating.” Gilda yawned. “Seriously, these little guys tucker me out, and they’re not even born yet.”
Shrial chuckled. “Welcome to the final stage of pregnancy, Gilda.”
“Gee, thanks. You’re too kind,” Gilda returned sarcastically.
“Oh, it’s not that bad,” Avalon said. “Besides, we have to be careful about sarcasm around the cubs. We all agreed. They don’t learn that particular skill until later.”
Tazeer yawned, then climbed onto his mother’s back and kneaded there before settling in.
“And I believe that’s a sign that it’s time for the cubs to get some sleep,” Avalon said with a loving smile.
As Gilda and Avalon hauled them off, Grif smiled. “I’m truly blessed,” he told Shrial.
Shrial chuckled. “Wait till after those cubs are born. You may not feel the same way then.”
“Why would they change things? Yours didn’t. Tazeer didn’t.” Grif smirked.
“That’s because they haven’t begun fighting yet.” Shrial returned the gesture. “Six children will definitely keep our plates full.”
“True. I guess Avalon hasn’t told you yet.”
Shrial sighed. “How many?” she asked.
“Three.” Grif’s smirk widened.
Shrial groaned. “Winds help us all.”
“Pretty sure that's how we got here in the first place,” Grif joked.
Shrial nudged her husband in the ribs. “Shut up and help me put the cubs down. You know they won’t go to sleep until you come tuck them in.”
“Yeah, yeah.” He kissed her forehead gently. “How’d I ever get someone as wonderful as you?”
“Well, you did help make me. Not many husbands can claim that, you know,” she said as she laid a wing over Grif’s back and leaned in to nuzzle.
“I just brought out something that was there. Besides, not many husbands can claim their opening line was helping to kill their wife’s father.”
“Ah, but that’s ancient history, love. Literally.” She kissed him on the cheek and purred.
“I know,” Grif said. “Come on. Let’s put the kids to bed and then have some fun.”
The air in the Everfree was absolutely still and calm. No creatures cried. No timberwolves howled. No rockodiles snapped. Any hydras that may have been in the area kept a very clear distance. That quiet was unnerving to Zecora. It was a silence that she had come to know well over the centuries. The forest was afraid. And to cause a forest to fear was no easy feat. Zecora seized her bo staff and prepared to meditate in search of the cause when a heavy knock shook her door and nearly caused the whole tree to vibrate.
“There are few I know who can shake this tree. I wonder who my visitor could be,” she mused as she seized the door handle and cautiously peered beyond. The first thing she saw was the scars, a crisscrossing map of raised lines and puckered skin under a shiny fur coat. Then came the legs and torso, followed by the familiar sight of a radiant bird with flaming wings and a dead stare that matched that of its owner, save for the new addition of glowing mechanical eyes. “Hammer Strike!” Zecora gasped. “It seems I’ve no need to be so tense. The forest’s silence makes a lot more sense.” Then she frowned. “But what has happened to cause such a change? To say the least, you look rather … strange.”
Hammer Strike gave a small smile. “The best way I can explain it is that some thousands of years happened. To be honest, it’s been a long time since I last stood here.”
Zecora’s gaze narrowed. “The long way round is never fun, but it seems you have finished that particular run. The magic that called you leaves me stunned. They tread on the field of my patron’s son.”
“Gaia was your patron, correct?” Hammer Strike questioned.
Zecora nodded.
“Fair enough. I actually came here to discuss something of minor importance. If you have the free time, that is.”
“Time, I have in much supply. Come, let us talk, just you and I.” She motioned to the inside of her hut as she drew the door farther open.
Hammer Strike gave a nod before he entered, ensuring he didn’t bump into anything in the process. “The primary reason for my visit is to discuss the whole land situation, since I have been working on the Everfree Forest. This, of course, leads to, well, your home.”
“Go on,” Zecora urged as she retrieved some feed and poured it into a bowl before laying it on a table and motioning for Renati to partake if he wished.
“I was wondering if a half mile radius around your hut would be sufficient space for you to work with, or if you would require more,” Hammer Strike asked.
Zecora laughed. “In truth, all land belongs to me. Or rather it is a part of She. But if that is what this visit’s about, then I am honored to hear you out. You’ve treated me well where others have not. This gift is a very precious thought. Give more or less as you think best. I have no qualms. Those demons rest.”
“Even so, I would like you to have ample room to work with, as to both give you necessary distance while performing your tasks and to keep others from disturbing you by pushing construction into your residence,” Hammer Strike clarified. “I understand the whole ‘everywhere and anywhere’ by technicality, but I would still rather provide you with working space.” He gave a gentle smile.
Zecora smiled in return. “You rule justly, Hammer Strike. My thanks for this gift, and ….” She sputtered in frustration and shook her head, uttering what doubtless was a swear of some kind in her native tongue. “Forgive my lapse to native speech. I find it’s better to swear than it is to screech. Although it does not happen every time, there are certain periods where I cannot rhyme.”
“That’s perfectly fine,” Hammer Strike replied in Zwahili. “Though it makes it interesting, considering I understand nearly every mortal language on the planet.”
Zecora gaped at him. “Since when could you speak Zwahili?”
“Since before the augmentation, actually. I learned some of the language during the Third Gryphon War, and furthered my efforts when I had traveled to recollect Vital. You were present for that, if I recall. By that point, I could hold a conversation. I simply preferred Equish. Beyond that, my comprehension was … artificially expanded, I suppose is the best way to explain it.”
Zecora sighed in relief. “I’m not ashamed of the price I paid, but one does get tired of having to constantly speak in rhyme.”
“I believe it.” He gave a brief chuckle. “It must make things difficult when coming up with a roundabout way to finish a sentence without it going too far off the mark.”
Zecora chuckled. “Living for over a millennium helps with that. I’ve had a lot of time to hone my skills.”
“It’ll get easier as more and more time goes on. That much I can agree on.” Hammer Strike smirked.
“Perhaps. But I think your road still has yet to reach its end. Time is an interesting challenge when it comes to you, Hammer Strike.”
“I have much more to do, indeed. It will be some time before I hit the end of my road.” He chuckled softly. “If I’m allowed that, that is.”
Zecora smiled knowingly. “You are a wise man, indeed. And a wise Pony. Would you care for some tea before you go?”
“I would very much appreciate it.”
“All right. I hereby call this treehouse CMC girl’s night sleepover to order!” Sweetie Belle said as she beamed at her three friends. “It’s been too long since we just did some stuff for ourselves, and Dinky here gave us the bright idea of having the best, the greatest, the spookiest, the coolest, most awesome sleepover ever! So, cheers to Dinky Doo Hooves for helping us to bring this party together.”
The room filled with the clops of the girls’ hooves.
“Now then, first order of business, to get the ‘girlie’ stuff out of the way, we’re gonna do facials.”
Scootaloo gagged.
Sweetie Belle continued unhindered. “So we can have our war paint on when we have our pillow fight!”
That one perked the filly right up.
Dinky giggled. “Besides, it’ll let us talk about how things are going here for everypony. And about some of our other members.” The mare lifted a large basket onto the treehouse floor and removed a number of muffins. “My mom had me pack all these for us, so we can have treats all night long. Dig in if you want. There’s plenty more where that came from.”
Applebloom took a big bite out of an apple streusel muffin and beamed. “How does your mom always make these so tasty?”
Dinky giggled. “She calls it her muffin button.”
Sweetie Belle smiled as she dropped down from their pulpit. “Well, I guess we could talk about the members first, then do the facials.”
“No sap,” Scootaloo said firmly.
“With us, it’s a statistical impossibility not to have sap appear in some form when we’re doing things together,” Dinky said. “Don’t ask me how. I’ve tried to quantify it and I still can’t find the reason.”
“Speaking of reasons, why don’tcha tell us about the Gantrithor, Scootaloo?” Applebloom asked. “You got to ride in it with Day Moon not too long ago, right?”
“I mean, it was awesome, but I only got to see one area,” Scootaloo said. “And that was mostly helping to move things around.”
“And you got to see Day Moon, too, right?” Sweetie Belle smirked.
“And?” Scootaloo asked “Daymoon’s awesome.”
Dinky giggled. “How so?”
“He trains with Grif for hunting monsters. How is that not awesome?”
Dinky shuddered. “Trust me, Scootaloo, there are some monsters you don’t want to meet.”
“I know. It’s awesome,” Scootaloo repeated. “It takes a lot of bravery.”
“Y’know, if we’re going to talk about boys, maybe you can tell us about Button Mash. Wasn’t he your knight on the train?” Dinkie asked Sweetie Belle.
“Well, yeah, but it’s not like that’s bad or anything. A lady is supposed to have a knight. And besides, he teaches me how to play great games!”
“He’s a lot of fun to hang out with, too. He knows how to turn everything into a game,” Applebloom added.
“What about Pip?” Scootaloo asked.
“What about him?” Dinky asked.
“You play with him almost as much as you do with us.”
Dinky shrugged. “It’s fun playing the pirate.”
“The pirate or the damsel in distress?” Sweetie Belle teased.
“I’ll have you know that I am his first mate, thank you very much. And none of his raids would have worked without my strategy.”
“Not to mention big you almost always has him around,” Scootaloo noted.
“He is one of our best members,” Dinky pointed out. “And he has a great imagination. It makes sense I’d choose to make him a companion.”
“You mean like your mom is for your dad?” Sweetie Belle asked.
“Yeah!”
“So, you wanna marry him?” Sweetie Belle asked with a smirk.
Dinky blushed. “Well, if my timeline says I do….”
“That's gotta be weird, knowing that ahead of time?” Scootaloo asked
Dinky shrugged. “You sort of get used to it. Daddy calls it spoilers.”
“Spoilers, huh?” Applebloom tapped her chin thoughtfully. “You think he’ll mind if we work on some designs for the treehouse, then? I mean, things we can’t do with ours here and now, ya know?”
“If we do, the pool needs to be kept where it is and not splash all over us if things get tilted topsy turvy,” Sweetie Belle said.
Dinky giggled. “That’s a great idea. But I still want to make it so we can free the water if we need it.”
“With everything else your dad can do, that’ll be a cinch!” Applebloom said excitedly.
“Do you know what this means, girls?” Sweetie Belle asked as she grinned gleefully at her compatriots.
What followed was as inevitable as the oldest question in the universe. And just as world-shaking.
“Cutie Mark Crusaders architects, YAY!”
The day was sunny as two Ponies dined at a table outside a tiny restaurant in the lower district of Canterlot, where noble spies were less likely to infringe on their dealings. In a manner very much like her adopted son, Twilight Velvet breathed green fire, followed by a wash of smoke out her ears as she guzzled water to clear her palate. As the last of the exhaust dispelled itself with a steamy hiss, she let out a contented sigh. “Now that’s what I call a kick!” she exclaimed as she eyed the lump of green wasabi sprinkled with cayenne. The flavor melded surprisingly well with the mashup of Mexicolt and Neighponese cooking. A wide array of dipping bowls sat in front of her with hot sauce, soy, and any number of other concoctions between the two hemispheres of culture to go with the various dishes they had ordered to sample, mix, and match. “Wanna try some?” she asked of the scarred Earth Pony.
“I’ll try some next time.” Hammer Strike gave a brief chuckle. “My appetite never fully returned to me, so I still don’t eat much.”
“Then you’ll just have to take some of this to go,” the mare insisted. “You deserve a little different every once in a while.”
“Perhaps. Though, I technically only recently returned, so a number of foods are quite new or more developed.”
“All the more reason to try them, then.” She chuckled. “I remember when Shining used to talk about you after the guards told him some of your legends in training. Did you really season your food sometimes with poison, just for the flavor?”
Hammer Strike chuckled once more. “Technically, I suppose so. Though it never really was me that added it.”
“Is that so?” She sighed and shook her head. “I guess some things never change.”
“Indeed.” He smiled. “I’m sure you’ve probably been wondering as to the sudden visit, especially given recent events.”
“I’ve also learned to expect the unexpected from you. It helps after raising three children, one of whom happens to be a dragon.”
“This one may be slightly more unexpected than most could anticipate.” He reached into his coat and pulled out a scroll. “I mean, I certainly found it unexpected as well,” he finished, offering the scroll to her.
“You mean to say it surprised even you?” She whistled. “That is a surprise.” The scroll unfurled slowly. “A family tree?”
“Unroll the rest.”
The mare used her horn to levitate the scroll and keep it away from the food. Her name stood at the top, and the farther back it stretched, the more her eyes widened. “This must go for thousands of years.” And then the horseshoe dropped, along with Twilight Velvet’s jaw. She blinked, rehinged said jaw, then turned her head aside slowly to look at the newly proclaimed king of Equestria. “My family … our family … is this real?” By now, the food had long since been forgotten.
“Yes.” Hammer Strike nodded. “You are one of the descendants of Clover and myself.”
“That means Twilight, and Shining, and….” She pointed to herself, then peered at her hoof in thought. “Mother always wondered where my lust for adventure came from. I … guess I have you and Clover to thank for that.” She took a heavy drink of water. “So, … where does this leave us now? I mean, we’re family, but … what are we even supposed to call you?”
“Call me Hammer Strike, like always. I’m not going to have you or the others stress about all the small details. I figured, however, that I wouldn’t mind telling you all your family origins. That, and I suppose a small alteration of your stance in the nobility.”
Twilight Velvet sighed. “I suppose I should get ready for greater opposition and intrigue in the house of nobles, then, shouldn’t I? Or were you planning on keeping this revelation private?”
“I mean, that choice I’ll leave in your hooves, as the one who it would affect the most would be you.”
“You mean it?” She frowned, then shook her head. “Of course you mean it. You never say anything you don’t mean.” She nodded. “I suppose the best thing I can do here is say thank you, Hammer Strike. I’ll try not to let it go to my head.” She smiled as she levitated the scroll into her purse. “Though speaking of heads, did you tell my kids yet?”
“Yes. Twilight was in the room when Clover cast the spell, and Shining was told while I was on a visit to the Crystal Empire.”
“Did they take it all right?”
“Both of them stopped thinking for roughly ten to twenty minutes before they started to respond to anything again.”
Twilight Velvet chuckled. “That’s perhaps the one thing that really helps people see that they’re siblings. That and the streaks through their manes, I suppose.”
“It certainly is an interesting addition,” he chuckled. “But yeah, that was the main part of the trip, but I figured I could extend it to an actual visit, especially since it has been a while.”
“Well, you are the king,” Velvet noted impishly as she reached for another bite of food. “That means you can do whatever you want.”
“Indeed.” He sighed. “I never truly expected things to turn out this way, but if this is the way it needs to be, then so be it.”
Velvet frowned. “Just make sure you don’t work yourself too hard. You need time to do things for you, too, you know.”
“Many have told me that, but I tend to always put my wants and needs last.” He gave a brief chuckle. “It’s worked out for the most part during my previous reign.”
“Watch it, Mister. I may not be your mother, but I still know a thing or two about how to get people to take a break when they need it.” She smirked. “I suppose Twilight got that from you, too. Or would that be more from Clover?”
“Both.” He smiled. “After all, I ruled for well over a millennium straight with little breaks, and she was there by my side through it, training her own battlemage academy.”
Velvet groaned and rolled her eyes. “At least tell me you two are finally going to take a honeymoon.”
“Technically, we already did.”
“When?”
There was a brief moment where his eyes dimmed before returning to full brightness. “Roughly a thousand three hundred years before my departure, where I left Celestia and Luna in charge.”
“In that case, after you get things ironed out here, take her out again.”
“You see, that’s the thing. She’s not a vacation type of Pony. I mean, neither am I, but the point stands. She’s happier with a small break here and there, and then back to her arcane studies, or summoning, or demonology, or divinology…. You know what? You get the idea.”
“It must be interesting trying to top your anniversaries.”
“I think the best one was the one during the war with the Gryphons,” Hammer Strike remarked after some thought.
“Really? What did you do?”
Hammer Strike chuckled. “I think it was my most elaborate one yet….”
Extended Holiday Chapter 182: A Compelling Invitation
The chamber was broad and spacious with high ceilings and thick wooden beams to hold the structure together. Six large desks were lined along the space, and the walls were carefully set up with filing cabinet after filing cabinet and box after box, each carefully organized and set up to ensure the maximum efficient usage of the space. A black cat purred as it rubbed between the legs of the various furnishings and gazed with intent golden eyes at the two entrants. Binding gazed curiously at the system and the stacks of papers in various baskets or the act of being processed. A veritable torrent of papers flooded past one of the desks as a Pegasus zipped from one file to the next. Finished stacks were removed promptly and neatly deposited into various filing cabinets by a familiar Unicorn with a blond mane and a winning smile.
“Not as big as your original team,” Hammer Strike spoke to Binding. “But, they’ll serve you well for the time being.”
Binding frowned. “The one Pegasus looks well suited to the task, but I get the feeling these others wouldn’t put office work as their area of expertise….”
“I needed a small team for it, and they can additionally serve another purpose, of course.” He nodded. “Paperwork just keeps them out of the light, which serves them quite well.”
“Are we talking vampire light or the metaphorical limelight?”
“Metaphorical.”
Binding approached the Pegasus as she continued her work and nodded as he perused the paperwork with a glance. “Very nicely done.”
The mare cringed back under his gaze.
Binding raised a brow, then backed a few steps. “It’s been some time since I’ve seen an introvert. At least … two, maybe three centuries?” he mused as the mare blushed and buried herself all the deeper into her paperwork. “To clarify, when it comes time for these other skills you mentioned they have, did you want me to oversee those operations as well?”
“Perhaps not right away, though you will certainly find their skills useful in time. For now, I’d recommend just overviewing their side ops, and reviewing recovered evidence.”
“Recovered evidence from what, pray tell?”
“Anyone and everyone.”
“Ah, so the general evidence we used to deal with during the wars with the Unicorns.”
“To a point, though on a much larger scale.” He paused and gave a shrug. “Well, that plan is for a larger scale. At the moment, they’re mostly tasked for Equestria and neighboring nations.”
“Ah, King Hammer Strike, you honor us with your presence once again.” A Kitsune with white fur and bright red accents approached and bowed to the pair. “To what do we owe this happy encounter?”
Binding raised a curious brow. “I was aware you had Kitsune in your employ, but I was under the impression they were all serving in a military capacity.”
“He’s … unique, to say the least. Art is his speciality, and at the moment, he uses those skills to detect forgeries.”
“I take great pride in my work.” The fox smiled. “And I must admit that it grants me a certain amount of inspiration when I pursue my craft in what free hours I am able to gain. You may call me Inari.”
Binding nodded. “Very well, Inari. I look forward to working with you.”
“Collector.” Hammer Strike turned toward the stallion. “You’ll be reporting to Binding here from now on when it comes to the paperwork. And do be warned, it will become more drastic. Once Binding has an idea of the available staff, we’ll figure out a full team for this task.”
Binding smirked. “Fortunately, I have a few tricks of my own to help speed up productivity. I’ll be happy to teach them to each of you in turn.” His eyes drifted toward the lithe Unicorn mare, then to the Unicorn stallion that was comforting the Pegasus. “You will likely be my first student, Miss…?”
“Poser. Tabby Poser,” the mare introduced herself.
“A radiant beauty. But why do I get the feeling that this flower has a few thorns?” Binding smirked.
“Ooh, this one’s much nicer than Skull. Can we keep him?”
Binding winced as the cat quite suddenly decided to claw at his leg. “Since I am to be your superior for the time being, I believe it’s not so much a matter of you keeping me as me keeping all of you. Hammer Strike trusts you, and so I will trust you as well. I ask that you not betray it. So long as you remain loyal to Hammer Strike, I will use every means at my disposal to aid you in your endeavors, provided they are in accordance with Hammer Strike’s will and your current contracts with him.” He levitated the cat as it yowled and turned in the air. “I don’t take kindly to being attacked, however. If our silent friend over there could talk some sense into his familiar, I would appreciate it.”
Tabby frowned. “How did you know Morgana was Silent Collector’s familiar?”
Binding chuckled. “Let’s just say that contracts are my specialty.” He levitated the feline to the Unicorn in question.
“I’ll have a chat with him,” Silent said as he took the cat in his magical grip and stared meaningfully at it. “Morgana can be very … protective over members of our team.”
“Then I hope Morgana can get used to the idea of me supporting you all. Rest assured, I’ll do my very best to be of service and to sharpen your own skills under my supervision.”
The air sang with the ring of resin over the strings as bows streaked and hairs vibrated. The steady sound of chords poured from the sound boards of the instruments as the two players continued their renditions, one a white unicorn, the other a yellow mare with a blue mane and a gorgeous green shirt tied with a belt. A white stetson completed the ensemble.
As the final notes rang out from the instruments, the stallion looked to the mare nervously. “So, uh, how did I do?”
“Well now, yur coming along mighty quick. Just need to whittle down a few edges and you’ll be beyond what I can teach ya.”
“Really? Fiddling was always so hard for me when I tried it before. I’d trip up the notes or the strings would screech unless I slowed it down enough.”
“All it takes is time and hard work.”
“That and avoiding potentially annoying any others who don’t like Country?”
“To each their own.” Fiddlesticks shrugged.
“Fair enough.” Vital Spark shrugged in turn. “How’s life treating you? Getting enough gigs with your playing?”
“Of course. Ain’t that hard. Besides if I ever need a little extra, I can always work on the farm.”
“Dare I ask which one? It seems like you Apples have orchards and businesses all over the place.”
“Oh, we come from just east of the Whitetail Woods,” Fiddlesticks said. “Me and Octavia left there some time ago.”
“I bet you’ve been all over the place since then,” Vital guessed.
“Well, it helps I get called in to every family reunion.” She laughed. “Still, I imagine I’ll be returning to the farm someday. Not like I can expect Octavia to make sure the farm carries on.”
“You don’t have any other siblings or family to help?”
“Not on our farm. Just a pair of twins.” She smirked.
“Is that common for the Apple family?”
“Nope.” Fiddlesticks shook her head. “We may be one of the few generations smaller than Sweet Apple Acres.”
Vital whistled. “So how are you going to manage your orchard all by yourself, then?”
“Start a family.” Fiddlesticks shrugged. “Hire farm hands, maybe call in a few cousins.”
Vital smiled. “I bet that music of yours gives your crops a real kick.”
“Probably does at that.” She laughed. “You’ll have to come play for them once in a while.”
Vital laughed. “Be careful what you wish for. I do a lot more than just fiddling, you know.”
“I want you to think about your wording there, big guy.”
“You do realize I was talking about the trees and what I play on my violin, right?”
“Still gotta watch your words, casanova. I appreciate the offer, but I don’t think I’m in your league,” she teased.
Vital chuckled and shook his head. “Don’t get me wrong, Fiddlesticks. You are an attractive mare, as is your sister, but you’re not exactly my type. Trust me, if I were making advances, I’d be more blatant about it. Not crude, mind you, but definitely obvious. I’m about as subtle as a brick most of the time. Also, I’ve been teased far worse by Grif. You’re going to have to up your game if you want to make me blush.”
“Oh, I could if I wanted.” She smirked.
“Why do I get the feeling we’re playing a game of chess?”
“You always are.” She chuckled. “You're an attractive stallion in a world where we have one to every five to seven mares. I’d figured you’d realized that by now.”
Vital let out a timid laugh. “Um, just for the record, are you seriously flirting here or still trying to get me to blush?”
“Can’t be both?” Fiddlesticks asked.
That got Vital Spark to blush.
Pensword frowned as he approached the target to dislodge his arrows. Range Master had given his consent to cross over, but the sight of where the arrows had landed left him feeling less than comfortable. Bullseyes were the norm for him before. And while he had managed to cluster the bolts well, it was clear that he didn’t have quite that same accuracy anymore. The arrows had been carefully grouped around the red with one quarrel just breaking the line in the outermost yellow ring.
“That … is concerning,” Pensword said as he removed the quarrels and returned to his position on the range.
Range Master shrugged. “No shame in it. You’ve still got a good shot. Your aim’s just a little off center is all.”
“I’m never off center, Range Master.”
The stallion shrugged. “First time for everything. Just shows you’re like any other soldier. Sometimes you hit and sometimes you miss.”
“I can’t afford to miss.”
Range Master shook his head. “That’s probably your problem, then. Too much tension. You need to relax more.”
“Relax? When I’m preparing for combat?”
“Better to relearn it now than have it bite you in the flank on the field.” His ear twitched and he whipped around suddenly to bark at a Pegasus as she raised and began to set her bow. “Did I give you permission to pick up that bow, Crosshairs?”
The mare in question squealed in surprise, and her bow clattered to the ground.
Range Master sighed. “Amateurs,” he groaned. Then he raised his voice. “If I see anypony picking up those weapons without my permission, there’ll be Tartarus to pay. Do I make myself clear?”
“Sir, yes, Sir!” came the united response.
Range Master smiled and nodded, then turned back to Pensword. “You know what stress can do to a soldier, Pensword. And like it or not, you’re under a lot of it right now. Practice, loosen up, get the feel for it, and make it feel like breathing. Then you’ll have the hang of it.” Pensword sighed and nodded his acknowledgement. “Solid advice,” he agreed. “I suppose I’ll go for another round or two with this one, then switch to my other bow. I can’t allow myself to get rusty with it.”
Range Master nodded. “Just let me know when you’re ready to change over.” He smiled wryly. “Hammer Strike may be king out there, but nobody breaks the rules on my range. I don’t care if it’s Sleipnir himself.”
Pensword couldn’t help but chuckle. “Thanks, Range Master. I needed that.”
The stallion smiled. “Any time, Pensword. Now, why don’t you go ahead and do me a favor?”
“Yes?”
Range Master took a deep breath, then bellowed at the top of his lungs. “Archers, bows at the ready!”
Pensword’s ears rang for ten minutes straight after his session was over. He winced. “Note to self. Set up regular time to practice on the range. Second note to self, bring earplugs.”
The life of a Dragon is a difficult thing to comprehend. The culture circles around power and strength being the deciding factors for who rules and who falls. In ancient days, this culture nearly destroyed the Dragons and their future. Fortunately for them, Hammer Strike was persuaded to relent. Now two Dragons sat together outside a cafe in New Unity, one on a larger scale with radiant fiery feathers and four eyes; the other significantly smaller to the point that he was shorter than even a Pony. One was thousands of years old. The other was still less than a couple of decades.
“So, you wanted to ask me something?” Yharon asked calmly as he consumed a spicy red pepper corn cupcake.
“A few somethings, actually,” Spike returned as he idly spun the coco in his mug with a spoon. “Hammer Strike told me about what happened to my egg before Twilight hatched it. Equestria doesn’t have much to do with the Dragonlands, and the only person who seems to know anything about us and how we grow up is Zecora. Since you’re a Dragon, and Hammer Strike raised you, that makes us kind of like brothers. And since the only Dragons I’ve known are total jerks, I kind of have a lot of questions.”
Yharon smiled. “I thought you might. After everything Father did, the Dragons wouldn’t have been keen to cross Equestria again. It’s possible they kept that knowledge away from Equestria in order to bide their time for when they might strike again, should they ever find a way to break the contract their god made with Father in the first place. Were you looking for biology, culture, or something else?”
Spike frowned and peered into his mug. “I … guess a little of everything.”
“Our father is one of the oldest living beings on this planet, sans the gods, and even he doesn’t know everything.” Yharon smiled playfully. “But I’ll see if I can give you a few samples.”
Spike folded his arms grumpily. “You sound like Twilight.”
“That’s a trait that comes from our common ancestor. Hammer Strike tends to prefer helping people come to their own realizations, rather than handing things on a silver platter. Real growth is much harder to come by if everything is spoon fed to you. Having someone achieve it by doing gives experience and ensures the lesson sticks. He only force feeds when he deals with people who try to force their world views on him and his subjects.”
Spike raised a brow, but let the comment slide. “So, I already went through greed growth. But I don’t really know what else I’m going to have to deal with when I get older. Will something else happen? Will I get big like the red dragon Fluttershy had to deal with? Are all Dragons mean? Will I turn mean because all Dragons are mean? Will I—?”
“Slow down. Slow down.” Yharon couldn’t help but chuckle at the young Dragon’s antics. They were very much reminiscent of the mare Spike called his big sister. “One question at a time.” He took another bite of cupcake. “First of all, yes, something else will eventually happen. Your puberty has only just begun by the typical Dragon cycle. The greed growth was merely the first step, one that you were able to navigate quite well, from what I’ve been told. Certainly not at first, but in the end, you were able to come out of it yourself. Most Dragons don’t have that kind of willpower. Once they enter that frenzy, they tend to stay in it. It’s one reason why smaller dragons are so rare to find today, except for the younger generation. That leaves you open to a number of possibilities for growth, especially given who else you have in your pedigree.”
“So, there are still different kinds of Dragons, even after that happens?”
“Oh, yes. Some are flightless. Others are lithe and quick. Others specialize in strength while certain others focus more on cunning instead. The more you possess and the bigger you are, as a rule, demands greater attention. Though it is not necessarily that factor which decides who gets to rule in the Dragonlands.”
“The Dragonlands have a ruler?”
Yharon nodded. “Father made sure of it before he departed. Every generation of Dragons is bound to serve under a Dragon Lord. This ruler guides and directs his or her generation and the next through sheer force of will, and earns the right to rule in accordance with the challenges and contrivances set by the previous Dragon Lord. After running through that gauntlet, the Dragon who proves worthy takes up the mantle to guide the race in accordance with the contract that binds them.”
“That’s it?”
Yharon nodded. “That’s it. The Dragon Lord then decides how the generation will change. They can become lawful and orderly or chaotic and destructive. They can steal and plunder or conserve their resources. They can hoard everything or spread the wealth. They can take steps forward or pull a whole generation backwards kicking and screaming. Such is the power of the Dragon Lord.”
Spike gulped. “Does that mean the Dragon Lord can command me, too?”
Yharon rubbed his chin in thought. “That … is a very good question. Your egg was very old. It was laid long before the need for the contract came to be. And it waited in dormancy long after the forging. However, since it’s a divine contract, it’s distinctly possible that you would be bound by its power. That being said, you are also bound to Hammer Strike in a very literal sense by blood, one of the primary founders of the contract. That may or may not give you some leeway.” The Dragon shrugged. “Only time will tell. And hopefully, you will never have to find out.”
Spike frowned. “I … don’t want to hurt my friends.”
Yharon promptly flicked Spike on the forehead.
“Ow!”
“That was for dwelling on ‘what-ifs,’” Yharon chided. “The odds of such a scenario unfolding are astronomically small. And more importantly, if something like it does rise, then you should do what Father and even your sister would do. Find a way to take it and change it in your favor. If the world tries to make you do something you don’t want to do, don’t let it. You decide your fate.”
“I … don’t know if I’m strong enough to do that.”
Yharon smiled. “Then you are a fool.”
“Hey!”
“That isn’t a bad thing,” Yharon pointed out. “The fool is one of the most dangerous forces in the arcana. Its power is limitless potential. The fact you do not know what you are capable of means that you are capable of anything. And that will remain so until your abilities are tried. Then it will be up to you to shape your power and your future as you see fit. And if what I have heard of you is anything to go on, then you won’t disappoint.”
“It’s still a big responsibility.”
“That’s what growing up is all about, little brother. You are just as important to the world’s survival as Twilight Sparkle or any of her friends. Without you, the Crystal Empire would have fallen. Without you, Twilight Sparkle would have failed to defeat Discord. The fool is a fool because he or she does not recognize their own power and role. Don’t belittle yours, but don’t allow it to go to your head either. Then the path ahead should become more clear.”
“That’s a little vague.”
“Yes, it is, isn’t it?” Yharon smiled.
“Are you sure you haven’t played Ogres and Oubliettes before?”
“Fairly. But who knows?” Yharon chuckled. “Now, how about we focus on another round of sweets, hmm? We still have some more catching up to do.”
The desk was plain as the room to which the clan leader led his guest, and Grif liked it that way. It was far easier to fool a spy by using the simple over the complex. The room was lit by oil lamps and cast gentle light over the space as the mare followed her host in and closed the door behind them. Swift Wings, as usual, felt perfectly at home in the common space and bowed her head to the Gryphon.
“My compliments on your security measures. I couldn’t help but notice the number of Black Tips you have in your employ.”
“Well, as I’m sure you can attest, the best security for assassins and spies are assassins and spies themselves.” Grif chuckled. “And the general understanding that if they turned against me, I could have them all dead within fifteen minutes.”
“By your own hands or using others?” The question wasn’t so much to gauge his character as out of professional curiosity.
“By my own hand,” Grif said casually. “You worked closely with a rare few of my people, or so Hammer Strike told me. And I rarely doubt him on such things. I’m sure you realize my people have a tendency to require proof of one's abilities before they believe them. I myself am a big believer in the carrot and the knife.”
“I thought bacon would be a more apt metaphor for your species.”
“Possibly, but Pony culture has more or less influenced the world for a thousand years.” He shrugged. A pair of talons reached over Swift Wings’ shoulder to set a steaming cup down in front of her. She noticed the bandages along the arms. And when she looked back, Grif’s face smirked back at her before vanishing. Grif seemingly hadn’t moved from his chair.
“Red root tea, brewed for two minutes, a squeeze of blueberry juice, a pinch of lemon, and a teaspoon of sugar. I believe your palate will find it agreeable.” He smirked.
“If I were receiving this from anyone else, I would be tempted to refuse. But Hammer Strike has already assured me of your loyalty. You even saved his life, from what I understand.” She took a casual sip, being careful, as always to keep her expression properly schooled.
“He has my oath. An oath on blood is binding, possibly as binding as the contracts you and your friends created. Furthermore, if you were anyone else, I would have you followed, but I can see the strength of the bonds you have formed with him. I have a feeling the two of us will be able to handle a lot in the future.” He tapped a crystal beneath his desk and the windows became opaque. The doors locked as torches lit around them. “And now we can speak freely.”
“In my profession, even in a safe space, I assume it is not nearly so safe. Then again, once Hammer Strike is properly situated, he’ll probably be able to help upgrade some of your safety measures. His projectors have all manner of uses, not just for neutralizing magical fields.”
“Ah, yes. I need to remember to look at that. He gave me one to study,” Grif noted. “I just have been busy as of late. Don’t worry, though. Hammer Strike helped me devise several of the security features in this room. He tells me you were his spymaster, as well as his blade in the dark?”
“Among other things.” Swift Wings nodded. “I owe him a great debt, not unlike that which you owed to him. He saw me and my friends as people, not pawns or peons. That was a rare trait to find back then.”
“I know the sentiment. Even among my own people, I was an outcast and a nobody, an orphan whose entire life hinged around the kindness of one old warrior. I was the lowest of the Gryphons who, at the time, were low to begin with. When the plague hit, we must have visited a dozen lords of Equestria who turned away our call for help. Hammer Strike did not even hesitate for a second. That was when I knew this was the person I would die for.”
“He gave Binding and the blockhead a home. That was something we hadn’t had for a very long time. And much like how you were willing to die for him, I was willing to kill, if he required it.” She nodded sagely. “Isn’t it interesting how similar our backgrounds actually are.” Then she chuckled. “I suppose Hammer Strike simply has a way of drawing those kinds of people to him. Or perhaps it’s fate.” She shrugged. “Either way, his influence is a blessing to those who are willing to accept it.”
“And those who are unaware of it at all.” Grif chuckled as he pulled out a map and a crystal. “This crystal is unique. Clover created it on a magical frequency that cannot occur naturally, and most magicians would have a one-in-three-billion chance of guessing.” He spread the map over the desk, then placed the crystal by the light of a torch. It projected a careful blue light down onto the map that split into three larger rays, which then birthed a few dozen smaller rays from it.
“These are the locations of our three different operations headquarters, and then their smaller bases, safehouses, and caches,” he explained. “Ideally, the population is unaware of ninety-five percent of what we actually do.”
“Given the fact we operate outside the law, I would expect nothing less.” She stroked her chin. “I assume that for the most part, these cells are expected to operate under their own discretion with reports back to you as the current spymaster?”
Grif nodded. “They are all run with at least one Changeling in the leadership or assistant leadership position, allowing them to maintain instantaneous untraceable communication, despite the distance. Thus, they are aware of each other but still capable of independence. They are, however, unaware of my identity as spymaster.”
“Won’t that make it difficult if you ever need to visit them in person?”
“Not really. I am Grif Bladefeather. Until recently, Hammer Strike’s greatest assassin. The idea of me being sent to help with a situation made perfect sense,” Grif explained. “Though parlour tricks aside, it seems I’ll be surrendering that title to you.”
“After the ‘tricks’ you just showed me, I’m not so sure.” Swift Wings smiled. “Unless, of course, you feel we need to divide up the duties between ourselves. Or were you thinking something more along the lines of me serving as a subordinate just underneath you?”
“I need to take a general step back from all but the more extreme situations,” Grif admitted. “I have far too many irons in the fire right now. I’ll still be taking care of Hammer Strike’s personal hits and security for major events, but to be honest, my title as spymaster will mostly be an administrative position.”
“I suppose that would help both of us get more sleep than I used to before.” She chuckled. “Hammer Strike had to craft a special potion just to keep me awake some days.”
“I’d imagine that was the ancestor to the brew Thestrals still use today.” Grif chuckled. “Now, I should note only two of these operations are for information gathering and asassination. The third is made for dealing with monster attacks and disaster relief.”
“Speaking of which, how is your progress on building a hunter’s guild?”
“Much faster, now that Hammer Strike’s endorsing it.” Grif smirked. “Which is probably for the best.”
“After what happened with that dome, I should think so.”
Grif pulled out several sealed tubes and a small knife. “My documents. Just a drop of blood will make sure only you can open them.”
“How many of these containers do I need to key myself to?” she asked as she took the knife and cut herself to begin the bonding process.
“All of them. These are copies of everything you need to be aware of.”
Swift Wings smiled ruefully. “I thought you said I wasn’t going to have paperwork,” she teased.
“You won’t. I wrote all this down from memory. Memorize them and destroy them,” Grif ordered. “Also, the factions have been told to expect your communications under the handle of Asp.”
“Aptly named.” She smirked. “Very well, Grif. In that case, I suppose I’d better get to work memorizing.”
Dross Caster wiped the sweat from her buttery brow and blew her mane out of the way. The fires of the forge were intense, and the workload even greater. A number of mannequins had been properly decked with repaired armor, but whole piles of helmets, breastplates, and more still waited for their turn. A buckler sat before her now, and the cherry color of the steel sparked and sang under the blows of her hammer as she worked to shape the patch properly and meld it with the rest of the shield before pounding the layers into place. The design wasn’t so intricate as what Storm Hammer had shown her previously, but it was a start, and the runes waiting to be pounded into the metal would help to act as a diffuser for any spells directed at the shield, rather than letting them strike through the metal to attack the wielder.
“I wonder where he picked these up, anyway,” she mused as she retrieved the metal tools and the appropriate hammer to begin imprinting.
“Study,” Hammer Strike spoke as he stepped into the room. “The tool itself was a simple thing to make. I see you’re doing well enough on the repairs.”
Dross jumped again, though she managed to hold back the squeal this time. More importantly, she didn’t mar the shield. “You’d think I’d be used to you sneaking up on me … by … now….” Her eyes widened as she took in the sight of her mentor and master. The stallion had grown significantly taller, and his eyes glowed like the coals of the forge fires in a vibrant blue. “What happened to you?” she asked, not so much in shock as with that drawn out tone that is used when the mind is forced to suddenly jump tracks.
Hammer Strike raised a brow. “You haven’t gotten out much, have you? I even made an announcement to New Unity to explain everything.”
“You said these were a priority, so I’ve been working to get them done.” She wiped her brow again. “You go through a lot of armor, don’t you?”
“Given the fact that we’re in a forest of hostile creatures, yeah, they tend to need repairs quite often. I’ll have to start working on a new standard soon enough. As for clarifying everything—” he gestured to himself “—just know that it’s been a long time for me. As in, thousands-of-years long time.”
“Time travel’s a thing?”
“Technically, it has been.” Hammer Strike frowned. “It’s not very stable for the most part, of course. I had some work to do, and so the universe sought to correct it. We might have to start over, as I need to reevaluate you and determine a new way of teaching you.”
Dross Caster cocked her head to the side. “A new way? I thought this was always how apprenticeships worked.”
“Yes, but you’ll find that I don’t typically follow the norm.” Hammer Strike chuckled. “I believe it’s better to have you move with more forward momentum when I teach you. Of course, you’ll still be doing repairs and such, but as I will be doing some new armor standards, it’ll be lessened to minor work.”
“You mean you plan to build an entirely new design for guard uniforms?”
“Correct. The current standard is a little … lacking, in my opinion. And since I have taken my rule back, I can issue new equipment orders without complaint.”
It took the mare a few seconds to process that. Finally, she nodded. “Okay, then. How can I help?”
“Finish work on that buckler, and I’ll come up with a few tests for you. Once I’ve been reminded of your skill level, we’ll figure out where to go from there.”
Dross nodded. “I’ll try to have this one done soon. Should I take this as a practical examination, then?”
“I’m sure you’ll manage the shield fine. The test will be on some more overall work, from beginning to end.”
The mare smiled. “I’m looking forward to it.”
Pensword sighed as he peered over the bindings of the latest strategy manual. Scroll after scroll of notes stood at the ready, the fruits of his labors thus far over the veritable avalanche of advances in tactics and maneuvers over the millennia. He groaned as he slumped onto the desk and his wings draped toward the floor.
“It’ll take me decades just to get a fraction of this memorized.”
“Yeah, I figured you guys would’ve had, I dunno, a cheat sheet or something.” Towering Wall frowned as he looked over the manual in front of himself.
“Too dangerous.” Pensword shook his head. “Get all that strategy in one place and anyone could steal it or copy it for espionage.”
“Given what I’ve seen, I don’t really think that’s much of a problem. I mean, look at all these books. They’re all labeled, right? So what stops them from taking this?”
“That’s … in my next book,” Pensword admitted. “Security measures and magical defenses. I assume the classified measures are top secret, which means I won’t have access to them in my current state, but I at least have to have a proper understanding of precautions that are available to guards.”
“Fair enough, I suppose.” Towering Wall hummed as he rubbed the side of his head.
“Something the matter?” Pensword asked.
“Not really. Just seems like a lot of useful information being held back from the ones who could use it?”
“We don’t have the same security measures you had back when Hammer Strike helped to found Equestria. That requires the government to be more secretive and selective with whom it shares its strategies and sensitive documents.”
“It kinda sounds more like Swift’s field than it does mine at times.” He shrugged. “I mean, I kinda worked mostly on defense. Had my own unit. It was great.”
“Really? What for?”
“We ran the capital’s defense.” Towering smiled. “Fully kitted out with plate armor, tower shields, the works. Heck, Hammer Strike actually made all our gear personally, so it was able to withstand almost anything.”
Pensword chuckled. “That sounds like our Hammer Strike all right. I’m told you and yours fought against a lot of the darker creatures back then.”
“Yeah, but we were geared for it in comparison to the guard outside of Unity, er, New Unity, so it made them a lot easier to manage.”
“And you never had to study strategies or anything like that back in the day?”
“I mean, we had how we were trained, but when it came to strategies, we mostly worked on the moment. I had to get better at reading a fight when Binding was busy with other more important things.”
“So you devised new strategies each time, rather than having prepared combat styles in place?”
“I mean, if they can just change what they’re doing to something new, how does it really work to have a plan for them?” Tower shrugged. “Just didn’t make sense to me. Heck, if you want to see something in action, you should ask Binding about his own mastery of the battlefield.”
Pensword smiled. “You know, I think I might just do that when he has the time. From what I understand, you three are what could be considered national treasures that time forgot.”
“When we learned we didn’t age because of something related to Binding, we were given a lot of time to better ourselves. Binding had a thousand years to perfect his contracts and studies. Swift became so good at espionage that she could practically walk into any city in the world unnoticed. I kinda just spent my time bettering my fighting, response speed, stuff like that.” He rubbed the back of his neck.
“You wouldn’t have been so close to Hammer Strike if you did that little,” Pensword pointed out. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he tapped you to help us brush up some of our recruits.”
“He mentioned wanting me to make my own unit again. I just have to find those who can really match what I do. So far, the Gryphons that arrived recently really seem like they want to take part. Beyond them, there aren’t many Ponies that can match at the moment. But given enough training, I’m sure they could do it.”
Pensword couldn’t help but smirk. “You, sir, have the charisma of a natural leader.”
“Nah, it’s just years of practice.” Tower waved dismissively. “In any case, though, I don’t think I’ve got much I can get out of these manuals.”
“Well, if Hammer Strike wants you to teach those units your way, I suppose not.” Pensword sighed, then sputtered. “Lucky.”
“Hey, your job is just different from mine,” he remarked as he stood up. “You’re aiming for high in the branches. I’m good with just hometown defense.”
Pensword smiled ruefully. “I guess the best I can do is wish the both of us good luck, then. Thanks for keeping me company, Towering Shield.”
“It was no problem. I’ll see you around.”
Pensword waved a wing weakly. “Until then, Towering Shield.” And then he dove back into his work. There was still a lot to be done.
Hammer Strike hummed to himself as he sorted through several documents on his desk. At the moment he was sorting through bits of information to catch up on every little event he could in the modern day. Binding had taken to his new group and was studying up as well to account for new personalities and situations.
Hammer Strike’s studies would have lasted longer, as he initially hoped, were it not for the presence he could hear moving toward his office. Once they were close enough, he put his papers away and called out, “You’re clear to come in.”
After a brief moment of hesitation, the individual entered, revealing a familiar blue stallion wearing a saddlebag. “I see you’ve already started catching up on things.”
“Got to keep up with everything,” Hammer Strike chuckled as the door closed. “It’s been some time, Broker. I do hope things haven’t been too lively for you?”
“Not at all. Changelings of the current hives can’t see me unless I want them to, and I’m positive I have been forgotten by this point in time,” Broker replied as he looked around the room. “Also, you should replace those Changeling lanterns when you get the chance. Now that you’re back, you really need to update your security.”
“Yeah, I know.” Hammer Strike sighed. “It’s a slow process, but that’s high on the list, among other things.”
Broker nodded. “I expected as much. Sorry for not coming around sooner, but it’s not exactly a short trip here, and the crew isn’t stationed nearby.”
“How is the new crew, anyway?”
“They’re skilled, but each of them have a few points that need to be worked on. Beyond that, though, they can do mostly whatever I need of them.”
“Trust them well enough?”
“After what they’ve done so far, I think I can. They’re certainly showing it in return, though I suppose helping them avoid imprisonment probably helped.”
“I’d believe it.” Hammer Strike gave a brief chuckle. “Are you able to move closer to here anytime soon?”
“It would be somewhat strange for me to move in just now. The book store will still work as ample cover, but it’s not in demand here yet. Once you have residential going and citizens moving in, then I can slip in, get a place situated,” Broker explained as he paced the room.
“Fair enough. Just stop on by when the time comes and I’ll keep an eye on things.”
He nodded. “You got it. But, I didn’t just stop by to catch up. I have some information for you.” He reached into his saddlebag, pulled out a tube, and passed it over to Hammer Strike.
Hammer Strike took hold of the tube and cracked it open, revealing a series of documents and images. Images of an almost familiar mare with both a pair of wings and a horn.
“Not an ascended Alicorn,” Broker continued. “This one’s been around for some time. I discovered their presence near the end of the Discordian era after being displaced, myself.” He frowned at the statement.
Hammer Strike, meanwhile, was speechless as he looked over the pictures. It was a natural born Alicorn, but they were smaller than the average ones he remembered. Not quite as small as E was, but closer in height to the average Pony.
He couldn’t fully recognize them, but something was gnawing at the back of his mind as he looked them over. “Any other bits of information you were able to gather on them?”
“I spent some time looking things over, especially given your dislike of natural born Alicorns, apart from your daughters of course. From what I can tell, she’s held captive, but not to a severe degree. It’s more like she doesn’t have a reason to leave. I wasn’t able to get as close as I would have liked, but I was able to determine that they call her E. Whether it’s a nickname or—”
“E?” Hammer Strike spoke suddenly as he snapped his attention to Broker before returning to the pictures.
That was what it was. He recognized the cutie mark, but…. “She got taller? How? Last I checked, that was just her standard, and it’s not like she would have had enough tech to change that.”
“You know her?”
He looked up. “Yeah. She was one of the Alicorns who I could trust, helped out plenty in order to get Celestia, Luna, and myself off the island. I didn’t even know she survived. Maybe her tablet broke or something,” he muttered the last part in thought.
“In that case, then I assume you’ll want to meet back up with her. There will, however, be an issue with that.”
“I assume with the previously mentioned detainers?”
“Yeah. Right now, she’s being held by, well…”
“So, we’re still in the green, financially,” Grif said to his assistant as he looked over the paperwork. “However, these cases of people amassing mercenaries need to be looked into.”
It was paperwork day. And unfortunately, Grif had a bit of a backlog he had to look into, which meant he’d spent the last eight hours signing and sealing papers, checking facts, and giving orders.
Naturally, when there was a knock at the door, he eagerly called them in.
“Uh, Sir, an envoy has arrived asking to see you,” the Gryphon who entered spoke.
“An envoy from who?”
“The, uh, Sphinxes, Sir.”
Grif stared at the Gryphon, unsure how to respond to that at first.
“Come again?”
“The Sphinxes, Sir.”
“That's … incredibly unlikely.”
“Nevertheless, Sir, it is what's going on,” the Gryphon said.
“Very well, tell them I'll meet them in the main hall in a few minutes,” Grif said.
As soon as the Gryphon was gone, Grif sent out a few letters with his dragonfire lighter, to Hammer Strike as well as his wives, specifically Avalon and Shria,l to come to the main hall immediately.
By the time he arrived, Hammer Strike was already there. “Ah, good. You read it,” Grif said.
“Since it arrived right next to me, it was hard to miss. That, and you marked it as urgent,” Hammer Strike replied. “I had to cut a meeting short, but I got enough information on what it was about.”
“Yeah, well it’s not every day you get a lost species sending an envoy.”
“Considering the info I was gathering, yeah, the timing is quite interesting.” Hammer Strike frowned.
“Sounds like a story.” Grif chuckled.
“Just know that they’ve got someone I want back.” Hammer Strike narrowed his eyes momentarily as he looked at the door. “And likely will need in the future.”
“I see.” Grif nodded.
It took some time for the others to arrive. Shrial and Avalon were both occupied at the time, and Gilda was in no fit state to move around on her own when her time was drawing so close. However, the pair finally got their affairs in order and arrived.
“Is it true?” Avalon asked.
“You know better than to ask that, Avalon. Grif doesn’t tell lies,” Shrial chided.
“Apparently, an envoy from the Sphinxes has requested to speak with me.”
“After all this time, why would they reveal themselves now?” Avalon asked.
“That is what we intend to find out,” Hammer Strike said.
“You all are ready?” Grif asked.
“Are you expecting trouble?” Shrial asked with raised brow.
“They have hidden for thousands of years. I have no idea what to expect,” Grif admitted.
“Then we’re just going to have to wing it, I suppose. What’s that saying you always like to use? Hope for the best, plan for the worst?” Avalon asked.
“Yeah.” Grif nodded. “I hope you girls are ready to make history.”
“Didn’t we already do that?” Shrial asked cheekily.
“Seems it has its eye on us.” Grif chuckled before he signaled for the envoy to be allowed in.
The door opened, and as they watched, four creatures walked in with a feline grace. There were two tabby-colored, a calico, and a russian blue. They all wore egyptian-styled collars with beads of gold and blue woven into them. The calico wore an elaborate blue and white headdress seemingly denoting their station over the rest.
“Welcome, sisters and brothers, to the Bladefeather compound,” Grif offered, though he made no physical gesture with the greeting.
“Greetings, Avatar of Winds. The winds of change that first sprang from your awakening have led to much growth in the world. And, indeed, the most recent proved particularly jarring to us and our people. It is an honor to stand before such august company.” The Sphinx did not bow, but it offered a nod of acknowledgement toward Hammer Strike.
“I must admit I was shocked when my doorguard informed me of your appearance. No Gryphon has seen hide or hair of you since right after the fall.”
“Such was the will of the Winds. Those with the gift of sight saw what had to be done to preserve our culture and our people for the day when our gods could return again. It is to that stern duty which we have held in secret throughout the ages.”
“Then you are likely aware of the recent changes that have occurred?”
The Sphinx cocked its head in confusion. “I believe I already said so, did I not?”
“I was referring more to the current revival of the tri-goddess.”
“As was I. Our people rejoiced when her song rang through the ether. The balance is not yet fully restored, but it is a beginning, one that is long overdue.”
“I am close to fixing the balance entirely. Only a few minor pieces left to put together.”
“Indeed. Though not everything is quite as it seems. Such is the nature of prophecy. It is,” he chuckled, “a riddle.”
“I take it this is more than just a social call,” Hammer Strike said.
“We have come to extend an invitation. For many years, we have remained hidden because the other races have squabbled and squandered their knowledge. There are few who would use knowledge wisely, let alone justly. Your return, however, changes that, King Hammer Strike.”
“Indeed. Knowledge tends to be squandered, especially when hidden from the world amongst its own shelves,” Hammer Strike responded. “Cloaked and hidden in the back of a room,” he finished as his eyes glowed brighter and he stared intently toward the wall next to the door where the party had entered.
The Sphinx raised his brow in surprise at the statement. “As expected of the one to end the Firstborn, you are very astute.” A gentle nod toward the spot soon revealed a Sphinx with a flowing red mane that rippled like rivers as her coppery fur and luminous eyes emerged from the hood she had removed. “It is customary of our people to have a member in the party thus cloaked in the event that harm should befall the rest. As you well know, rarity breeds a certain amount of … desire in others.”
“I’m sure of it, especially since you never obtained diplomatic immunity,” Hammer Strike remarked with a raised brow. “Of course, I’m sure that will change in the future, yes?”
“The laws of hospitality were modified over seven hundred years ago,” Grif noted. “Your safety is not assured just because you are an envoy.”
“It is a risk worth taking to speak with you, however,” the Sphinx replied. “And as King Hammer Strike has so keenly indicated, it is our people’s hope to establish such ties. As an act of good will, we wish to extend an invitation to you and those you select to visit us. There is one whom we care for who would find great joy in seeing you again, King Hammer Strike. And it has come to our attention that there are answers that we know the Avatar has also been seeking. It would be our honor to aid him in his quest, both for the gods and for his own history,” he said as he eyed the blades on either side of Grif.
“You know the origins of Vigilance and Vengeance?”
“How could we not? I believe you already know why.”
“I just thought those memories were lost to time,” Grif noted
“That which is lost need not be lost forever. And much like the Kitsune, we have our ways of securing history.”
“Though I’m sure you find difficulty in obtaining some bits of history,” Hammer Strike spoke up. “Especially when the only ones to remember it want it forgotten. I’m quite positive she hasn’t told you as much as you would like to know. As some points of history, lost to time, are better left where they lie.”
“So it is true; the eyes of King Hammer Strike see all.”
“So you came here to ask me to visit you?” Grif clarified.
“If you would be willing, it would be our honor. We have not had contact with our cousins in the capital since the great separation. Aside from the prophets we have had, there has been little in the way of religious guidance.”
“I will agree to this. However, I will do so with assurances your people will open proper political channels from here after.”
“With Hammer Strike and Equestria, certainly. But until the other gods are restored, it would be preferable for our people to keep our whereabouts private. Is this a suitable arrangement for you, King Hammer Strike?”
Hammer Strike stared at them flatly, and his eyes flashed once again. “If your concern is over your safety, it would be a simple matter to add your people as a protectorate, especially since you reside in our lands.”
“A generous offer, Your Majesty, but it is not mine to accept. When our people separated themselves from the empire, we had to appoint a leader of our own to guide us. Each generation calls upon one who is marked by the Goddess to lead us. The mark is always the same. For even as She embodies life and death, so too does our leader, past, future, and present, bear a similar division of white and black, two opposites in perfect symmetry.”
“Then Hammer Strike will have a chance to meet with them.” Grif smirked.
“If he is willing to come, I am certain that she would be delighted.”
“I’m sure I can find the time.” Hammer Strike nodded.
“You have directions for me?” Grif asked.
“There is a map. However, to gain access to the valley itself, one must break the charm that protects our home. Answer wisely and you will pass. Answer poorly and the way will remain barred.”
“Sounds fun.” Grif chuckled.
“That is … not the kind of reaction we expected,” the Sphinx admitted. He produced a parchment and presented it between the two. “This will be your guide. While we know we have no power to demand or compel you, it is our humble request that you not bring your airship. It is very large, and very noticeable.”
“That will significantly lengthen the trip,” Grif noted.
“If you have one of smaller size, that will be acceptable and preferable. As I said, we cannot prevent you. It is your choice how you travel.”
“We’ll have a method of getting there,” Hammer Strike reassured. “Of appropriate scale, of course.”
Grif approached and took the map carefully.
“You have our thanks, King Hammer Strike. With your permission, we will depart immediately for our home to make the necessary preparations for your arrival. If you do not object, would you allow us two weeks’ time to that end?”
“That should be fine, as it will take some preparations on this end as well.” Hammer Strike nodded.
“You have our thanks.” The Sphinx offered a lower bow of his head. “Until next we meet. May knowledge guide you through life and guard you in death.”
“And may the winds be at your back ever onward,” Grif responded.
A nod from the leader led to the hidden Sphinx donning her cloak again. In a moment, she wavered out of perception, as though she had never been there in the first place. The party then departed respectfully as silently as they had come.
“Well, that’s a lot to unpack,” Shrial said.
“Very enigmatic,” Avalon agreed. “They like guessing games, don’t they? Do you think they’re chess players?”
“If they did, I wouldn’t recommend playing against them,” Hammer Strike remarked as he double checked the room.
“They gone?” Grif asked.
“Yes.”
Grif tapped a ring with an unobtrusive purple gem on it. At first glance, most would think it a simple amethyst, but instantly energy covered the room to seal the openings and cut out all sound.
“Well, they think they're clever,” Grif said.
“Compared to most of the other races, they probably are to an extent,” Avalon noted. “Their primary god was the Black Gale before she was broken apart. She never left Equis, so their fall may have been slowed compared to what happened to our people.”
“Yes, but that's where they misplayed their hands.” Grif chuckled “They thought they were talking to a Gryphon beholden to the same issues the decay brings for our people. They were playing to my greed and my pride.”
“And your curiosity?” Shrial asked pointedly.
“And my curiosity,” Grif agreed. “But I took a lot more from that interaction than they think I did.”
“I’m surprised they didn’t inquire after me and my school, all things considered. Unless they think it irrelevant,” Avalon mused. “I suppose if they have the books on the theory, they wouldn’t care if the art resurfaced.”
“The evokers of old worked differently from the modern, though I suppose there was still time to observe,” Hammer Strike spoke up.
“So where does that leave us, then?” Shrial asked.
“Simple.” Grif Shrugged. “We do what they want, but in the way we want. For instance, they clearly didn’t want Hammer Strike coming along.”
“A shame I will be.” Hammer Strike sighed. “Though I’ll have to figure something out in terms of why I’ll be there.”
“Didn’t they already give you a reason with their invitation?” Avalon asked. “I would have thought the possibility of opening diplomatic relations would be reason enough to justify your visit, at least as a cover.”
“There is someone, from the intel I received, basically being held captive in their lands.” He frowned. “They know I want to find them, so what will they change in the meanwhile?”
“So, this worked out well for you?” Grif asked.
“It’s added some complications. I’ll have to keep a close eye on them from now on if they’re going to be more active.”
“Their ability to remove perception is troubling,” Shrial said. “You’d need a way to counter it for any scouts or spies you send out, so they can keep properly hidden.”
“That isn’t the hard part.” Hammer Strike shook his head as he reached into his coat and pulled out a small black tube. “I can alter these to make it cease working. It’ll just take some time. I was able to study it somewhat while they were here, and I know I can perfect it with just this one trip to them.”
“I suppose the question now is who do you plan to take with you, then,” Shrial said.
“I can’t take Gilda, and I need you here to keep things going and stand as my second,” Grif told Shrial. “So I'll be taking Avalon.”
“Finding a lost city full of thousands of years of records and who knows what else?” Avalon chuckled. “It’s like our wedding all over again.”
“I’ll naturally be taking Kel’leam, and probably Vital Spark.”
“Assuming you can get Trixie to let him go,” Avalon teased.
“Yes.” Grif nodded. “I’ll leave the rest to Hammer Strike.”
“I’ll look into transportation and provisions.” Hammer Strike nodded.
“Then if that’s everything, let’s lower that field and get to work, Grif,” Shrial said.
Grif tapped the ring again and the field faded. “Try and keep this quiet as you can.”
“Grif, please, we know how to be discreet,” Avalon said.
“I’ll need an excuse for the rest of the clan, though, while you’re gone,” Shrial noted.
“I’ll think of something,” Grif said.
Hammer Strike opened a rift to his side. “I’ll see to my preparations. Keep me updated on yours. And if you can’t find me, Binding is cleared for the info,” he remarked, stepping through.
“He really thinks of everything, doesn’t he?” Avalon asked as the rift closed behind the Pony.
Shrial shrugged. “That’s why he’s the king, I guess.”
Vital Spark frowned as he gazed at his friend. The closet Grif had led them into was small, but that served the Gryphon’s purpose well, especially after the silencing field had been cast over the space.
“So, you’re telling me that a diplomatic party has come from the Sphinxes, the mysterious race that we only have the barest traces of knowledge for their existence in Equestria, and they want you and Hammer Strike to visit their capital?”
“Yup,” Grif said. “Well, pretty sure they invited Hammer Strike to be polite.”
“So, what, you guys need me to help Binding and the others out here while you’re away?”
“No, I need you to come.”
“Okay. Not that I’m objecting, but … why? Wouldn’t Clover be a better choice as the queen? Not to mention, she’s probably dealt with actual Sphinxes before. I kind of haven’t.”
“What if Unity gets attacked while we’re gone?” Grif asked.
“We do have an awful lot of heavy hitters outside of her, you know.”
“Yes, but do we have a lot of generals?” Grif asked.
“You, Pensword, and Hammer Strike have been training a lot of people for the last three years,” he pointed out. “But that’s beside the point. If Hammer Strike says he wants or needs me, I’ll come. It just seems kind of weird to me, I guess, when there are so many others who are better than I am.”
“Not entirely,” Grif said.
“Not entirely, huh?” Vital chuckled. “Well, you two know best. I assume this is on a need-to-know basis?”
“Vital, would you kill someone for your greatest wish to be granted?”
“No, but I don’t see how that plays into the conversation.”
“Would you steal?” Grif asked.
“Grif, you already know I wouldn’t.”
“That's why, Vital.” Grif smirked “You’d give up your happiness for your morality. Not everyone can say that.”
“In Equestria?” Vital chuckled. “I guess I see your point. You just have to wait for a Tuesday for something to go wrong.”
“That's why we needed you,” Grif said.
Vital smirked. “So you’re saying the world would have ended if I hadn’t been dragged here by Discord?”
“Don’t know about that, but still.”
“So, jokes aside, yes or no, can I tell Trixie or do I need to keep it vague?”
“Keep it vague,” Grif said. “And don’t mention her too much to them.”
“And as far as they know, we’re only what we appear to be?”
“I’m hoping,” Grif said
Vital nodded. “Then I’ll get ready. How much time do we have?”
“Two weeks.”
“And should I come ready for a fight?”
“I guess. Hard to say, really.”
Vital nodded. “Subtle, then. Got it.”
“Anything else?”
“You tell me.”
“Any questions, I mean.”
“Nah. I think I’m good. You guys can brief me on anything else when you’re ready. Though I’m guessing I may need to brush up on my riddles,” he mused.
“Do what seems prudent. I have preparations to make.”
Vital Spark nodded. “All right. I assume you’ll call me in the usual way when it’s time?”
“Yeah.”
“Then let’s get to work.”
“So, to make sure I understand this correctly, you, Hammer Strike, and Vital Spark are all going on an adventure to open diplomatic ties with a race that hasn’t reared its head in thousands of years, but you want me to stay here in Unity instead of coming with you?” Pensword asked of the Gryphon.
“We need to keep the party going out small, and your talents are needed here.”
Pensword sighed. “And I can’t even try to use the excuse of a representative of the Night Court, since Hammer Strike embodies both.” He smiled ruefully. “I guess everyone has to have a time to miss going on an adventure. And we both know we wouldn’t go against Hammer Strike’s orders, regardless. I assume you’re here to apprise Lunar Fang and Fox Feather of the situation, then?”
“Yes, Lunar Fang.” Grif nodded. “She’ll get more of a briefing from the Shields later, but forewarned is forearmed.”
“Bonnie knows I’ll have enough responsibility here dealing with the children and catching up on my studies. I still have a boatload of quotes to look over for those airship technicians, too.”
“Also, I think it would be wise for me to take Day Moon with me, give him a chance to see a bit of the world and learn some lessons directly.”
Pensword grit his teeth, then took a few calming breaths. “You would think this would be easier with time.” He sighed. “Day Moon has already proven he can handle himself. And I’m not going to make the same mistake twice after my last outburst. You are his master, and it’s Bonnie’s will and that of the Winds that he serve under you. I’ll probably worry like an old nanny goat, but I have no right to deny you.”
“I’ll make sure he’s safe,” Grif assured. “He needs to get used to long travel anyway.”
“You’re not taking the Gantrithor?”
“We were requested not to.”
“Well, that’s going to be interesting. Do you think it’s a trap?”
“I think everything’s a trap.”
“If you said anything else, you’d have been dead.” Pensword gave a lopsided grin, baring one fang to his friend. “Good to know you’ve kept your head about you. Without our experience, Taze and Matthew would be going off all excited without seeing the danger signs . The few rumors I’ve heard about Sphinxes in Equis and on Earth makes me feel like I’d better have the New World Fleet on standby.”
“You be careful, okay?”
Pensword chuckled. “And you bring back some war trophies if any of the old adventures hold true. Also, I’ll keep one of Chrysalis’ wings safe for you.”
“Don’t be a hero,” Grif said.
“Too late for that,” Pensword chortled. “But I won’t be performing any dumb heroic stunts either. I’ll do my part to defend the Duchy of Everfree and Ponyville regions, and drive her out of these lands if she shows up.”
“Remember you still have Clover around.”
“And a few other power houses. I know.” He smirked. “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure everyone has their fun.”
“I meant remember she technically has dibs on the kill.”
“Then I can go after any of her quasi-generals.” He spat. “If you can even call them that.”
“Just don’t do anything silly.”
“Got it. Will do.” Pensword winked playfully at his friend.
Grif chuckled and shook his head. “I’ll talk to you later.”
“Sounds good. Rest assured, I’ll at least be at the send off. Send me updates when you can, okay?”
Grif chuckled. “We’ll see.”
Hammer Strike hummed to himself as he scanned over the gauges of his new airship. It wasn’t going to be a permanent addition. He planned to decommission it afterwards, especially since he was unsure if the Sphinxes would tamper with it when they weren’t looking. He didn’t want to spend every waking moment keeping an eye on things.
He sighed to himself as he drew close to the docks he had built. At the moment, he would have to park it near the edge, but it would be stable enough for temporary use. Afterwards, he would need to check over New Unity to ensure its safety until he returned. Though with those newly returned allies, it wouldn’t be much of an issue.
Thankfully, with the augments in his head, flying an airship almost felt automatic, especially when he was able to see the blueprints for it. Once he knew exactly how it worked, it was just a matter of controlling it. And given his augments were telling him what to do, it just left his own movements to follow it.
The ship hovered patiently next to the dock, its propellers whirring gently as the sleek curves of the metal housing surrounding the zeplin-like construct of the blimp portion glinted in the sun. The Sphinxes asked for something smaller and less noisy than the Gantrithor. They didn’t specify anything else about their mode of transport. Once he’d reached the port, Pegasi on duty flew to tie the mooring lines and hold the vessel in place. Now that they had their transport, it was simply a matter of final orders and a hasty departure.
“You know, I didn’t expect you were the type to go out and buy a yacht,” Clover spoke up as she teleported in.
“Special occasion,” Hammer Strike replied with a small smirk as he turned to face her. “Grif received an … interesting invitation, which was then provided to myself as well. Sphinxes are opening contact.”
“They’ve been quiet for so long. Kind of suspicious,” Clover said.
“Oh, definitely.” He nodded. “Which is why we aren’t taking the important ship. After this one has been used, it’s going to be decommissioned.”
“It’ll be fun to see the nobles weep at how easily you can buy and dispose of one.”
“Oh, it’ll be amusing,” he chuckled. “But yeah, this visit has some more importance than I expected, given some information that I received. Oh, also, Broker is around again.”
“He’s still alive?” Clover asked, a little shocked.
“Surprisingly, yes. It appears his strain is very long-lived. While he was around, he ended up finding the location of the Sphinxes, and in turn found someone else with them.” He sighed. “E. She somehow survived the empire’s collapse, and is basically being held by them.”
“So, this is a retrieval mission.”
“Basically. So, I need you to remain on alert and keep an eye on things around New Unity. You may have to thaumically do some scanning in case the Sphinxes leave someone behind cloaked, but that’s a low chance, thankfully.”
“I’ll be on guard.” She nodded. “We all know an attack is likely.”
“Yeah. You know how to contact me if it’s an emergency. We should be leaving within a week or so. I’ll keep you updated on everything.”
“Yeah, yeah. If, on the astronomical chance, something happens that me, Ainz, and Binding can’t deal with, I'll call you.”
Hammer Strike chuckled. “I’ll hold you to that.”
“So,” Vital said as he eyed the machine. “Just how fast do these glorified zeppelins go?”
“I modified it slightly, but it’s mostly a commercial model with some military enhancements,” Hammer Strike replied. “As much as I wanted to modify it further, I’d rather not risk it, given who we will be dealing with.”
“I’d say that’s a pretty safe choice,” Vital Spark agreed.
“Not to assume your job for you, Hammer Strike, but I suppose motherly instinct is driving me to ask. Have you briefed the Shields yet?” Avalon asked.
“They have an idea of what is going on, and are on alert.” Hammer Strike nodded. “I’ve covered everything that needed to be covered on my end.”
“Same,” Grif said. “The clan is aware I'll be gone and what the pecking order is.”
“I’m sure Thalia will have plenty of fun working with Shrial and the rest of the elders.” Avalon giggled.
“Dare I ask what she means by that?” Vital Spark asked.
“Better if you don’t,” Pensword said. “Let’s not invite Murphy if we can help it.” He sighed and looked to his friends. “We’re going to miss you around here. Promise not to get lost?”
Hammer Strike shrugged. “I’ve got a lock on here, so there isn’t much issue there anymore.”
Pensword nodded, then looked to Grif. “If there’s a fight, give them hell for me.” Then he knelt and laid a wing over Day Moon before placing his forehead against his foster son’s. “And you stay safe.”
“I will. I promise.” Day Moon nuzzled his foster father back. “We’ll do fine.”
“And we’ll wait with bated breath to hear all about it when you get back.”
Day Moon Smirked. “Maybe this time I’ll have an actual trophy.”
Pensword chuckled. “All right. Get going before my instincts drive me to change my mind.” He gave his foster son one last kiss on the forehead. “Bonnie watch over you, Day Moon.”
“I’m sure she will.”
“Is that everyone, then?” Vital Spark asked. A familiar bird’s cry broke through the stillness of the air. Moments later, Aria had alighted on one of Vital Spark’s foci. “Aria, what are you doing here?”
The cryophoenix whistled and chirped.
“Do you have any idea what your grandmother would do to me if she found out I let you get into danger?” he demanded.
Aria raised her head hautilly.
“Don’t you take that tone with me, young lady.”
Avalon laughed. “Let her come, Vital Spark. I’m sure Snowy could use the company. And a magic caster without their familiar is but a piece of their full potential.”
“I don’t like it,” Vital Spark groused as he fixed the phoenix with a glare.
Aria preened her feathers and pointedly ignored him.
“Snowy will keep an eye on her, if that makes you feel any better.”
“Not much,” Vital groused. “But I suppose it’ll have to do. I know better than to put her in a cage and lock her up. She’d probably just try to follow us anyway, once Trixie let her out.”
Aria trilled smugly.
“Is this what I can expect when I finally have kids?”
“I mean, you’ll find out sooner than later, right?” Grif asked.
“That’s going to be up to Trixie, I think.”
Pensword chuckled. “Just don’t be afraid to make a few moves on your end, Vital Spark. Mares like it when we take the lead sometimes.”
“And I’m ready to go now. See you guys on board!” Vital said hastily as he started up the gangplank.
Grif gave Shrial and Gilda each a hug and a kiss on the beak. “I’m sorry I likely won’t be around when the cubs are born … again,” Grif told Gilda.
“You have bigger things to worry about right now. We’ll manage,” Gilda said, then smirked. “After all, you know how tough I can be.”
“Kalima and Cheshire have things covered,” Shrial promised. “We’ll make sure everything is just right.”
“Never was any Gryphon so blessed.” He smiled at them. “I’ll see you soon.”
Hammer Strike looked on as those boarding did so before turning to Clover. “Want anything while I’m out?”
“Well, you’ll be out near Paintsville. Pick me up a bottle or two of their whiskey.” Clover shrugged.
“Can do. If there’re any special ingredients or books, I’ll be sure to grab them as well.”
“No, I think I’m good. Show them why you're the king.”
“Now that’s easy.” Hammer Strike smirked. “All right. If that’s all, then I’ll be off,” he finished, heading up the board himself before making his way to the helm. “Prepare for departure,” he called out to those on. “Not like it’s going to be fast enough to knock you off your feet in the first place.”
Extended Holiday Chapter 183: Riddle Me This, Riddle Me That
The airship made remarkable time, thanks to Hammer Strike’s relentless work to keep it in the right direction. The propellers ran nonstop. And while the trip was not nearly so fast as it could have been with the Gantrithor, they were able to make good time as a result of Hammer Strike’s personal upgrades to the vessel. The lands below had changed from the beauty of jungles to the harsh and dry conditions of a great desert. Sand shifted and danced in great drifts and dust devils. The sight of pyramids almost prompted the group to stop. Almost, until Hammer Strike gave the order to carry on.
At last, the Ponies and Gryphons arrived at a big cliff jutting out of the ground in a great bluff. Its surface stretched for miles in either direction, made all the worse by the heavy waves of heat radiating from the ground.
“So, how much are people willing to bet that our legendary lost city is over there?” Vital Spark asked.
“Nah. What gave you that idea?” Grif chuckled.
“Because it looks like Ayers Rock was transplanted into an Egyptian desert.”
“Sarcasm, Vital,” Grif sighed.
“Playful reply, Grif,” Vital returned. Then he smirked. “Sometimes, it’s fun to be Captain Obvious.”
Day Moon cocked his head in confusion. “Who’s Captain Obvious? I don’t think I’ve met him yet.”
Vital paused for a moment. “You know what, I honestly can’t say whether there really may have been a Captain Obvious who served in the Equestrian Armed Forces or not.”
“Lets not delve into that,” Grif replied.
“Scared to find out?” Vital asked.
“Probably irrelevant for the task at hand,” Avalon noted gently. “Now then, assuming that is our destination, Hammer Strike, does that map of yours tell us where we need to land?”
“Not entirely. I’ve only got enough of a layout to figure out where it is. The rest is a matter of observation. Especially since they never actually told us how to get here in the first place,” Hammer Strike replied as he continued to scan the area.
“Well that’s just great,” Vital said. “I thought that map was supposed to give us proper directions.”
“Yes, but that doesn’t mean it tells us everything,” Grif commented. “There’s the question of the riddle that needs to be answered.”
“Yeah, but wouldn’t the map guide us to where the riddle is so we can see it or hear it or whatever to answer in the first place?” Vital asked.
“It’s also a riddle.”
“As in invisible ink riddle or what?”
Grif looked around. “Something about the area should give us the tipoff.”
It took several minutes and some scanning by Hammer Strike before they found the rounded rock with an arrow carved into it in each cardinal direction. At its base was a slab of slate not in character to the stone of the area. Faint letters were carved into its surface. The airship had been tethered nearby to allow the party to disembark without fear.
“Wow, that's old,” Grif commented, looking over the scrawl.
“Can you read it?” Vital Spark asked.
“Yes. it’s just at the very tip of my understanding,” he explained. “Just need some time.”
Fifteen minutes later, Grif laughed. “Oh, that's too good.”
“What is it, dear?” Avalon asked.
“What animal walks on four legs in the morning, two at noon, and three at night?” Grif laughed.
“Interesting how that crossed over.” Hammer Strike hummed in thought. “Though, which way is the question….”
“Got to admit, that’s the perfect security system to use, though,” Vital Spark noted. “Only a few would have known the answer to that question on Equis, even back when this riddle was first inscribed. Now, it’s all but impossible to answer unless you know it already.”
“I’m afraid I don’t quite follow,” Avalon said.
“It’s a riddle from Earth, Avalon, one that has survived through centuries, preserved in one of its older and most well-known legends,” the Unicorn explained. “The question is, how are we supposed to answer it? Inscribe on the stone? Say it aloud? Something else?”
Day Moon cocked his head in confusion. “Did you get any of that, Shadowsbane?” he asked of his sword.
“I’m afraid not, Master Day Moon, but I’m certain they know of what they speak. Sometimes, it is better to watch and observe, rather than question aloud.”
Grif traced the tablet slowly, then pressed in several characters which sunk into the stone. The compass above them rotated three hundred and sixty degrees. Then, slowly, a seam appeared in the air in front of them that grew into an opening. On the other end of the strange passage, gleaming white buildings edged with crystal and gold shimmered in the splendor of the midday sun.
“So, it was keyed to the carvings themselves?” Vital asked, surprised. “Doesn’t that mean only people with the right equipment would have been able to push the right indentations anyway to enter?”
“Ponies are clever,” Grif said. “They’d have figured it out eventually. But yes, this was made for people with fingers.”
“Let’s get going.” Hammer Strike squinted as he looked through the opening. “We’ll have a welcoming party before long, as it is.”
“You’d think they would have sent one out anyway when we arrived, rather than requiring us to solve the riddle,” Vital Spark noted. “I mean, they seemed pretty interested in having you come, Grif. And if they want to open diplomatic ties, they really should do it with open arms, instead of a riddle that would basically be unsolvable to almost anyone else to try it.”
“They were planning on flaunting their knowledge.” Hammer Strike frowned. “Probably wait until we couldn’t figure it out before coming forth to prove themselves.”
“I know I’m still sort of new to the whole ambassador thing, but isn’t that a really stupid move to play if you want to actually foster good will?”
“It’s not the wisest move, but it is a power move,” Grif said.
“So, should we keep them waiting a while longer or just get this over with?”
“Let’s get this over with. I’ve already got a feeling I’m going to deeply dislike this,” Hammer Strike remarked.
Vital Spark bowed his head. “As you say, Your Majesty.” Under his breath, he murmured, “Sorry about that, but if I’m going to act the part of your entourage, I might as well start it now.”
As the party entered the city, Hammer Strike’s words of foreboding soon proved to be prophecy, almost instantly coming to pass as his head began to buzz. His vision blurred with red warnings about contaminated technology that needed to be destroyed. Alicorn technology melded with ancient Gryphon technology was everywhere, and the Alicorn-made implants considered this a blasphemy. Outwardly, his eyes were flashing red constantly.
“Hammer Strike? You okay?” Grif asked.
“I want to burn this place to atoms,” Hammer Strike nearly growled before he closed his eyes and took a breath. After a second, he opened them and looked forward. “I will refrain from doing so, for now. Ancient Gryphon tech mixed with Alicorn tech, a combo I find myself agreeing with these augments over, despising.”
“So is that strike two, then?” Vital Spark asked.
“I mean, you want anyone having that kind of advantage?” Grif asked.
“Let’s keep moving,” Hammer Strike sighed.
The main street led down a thoroughfare lined on either side with the same grand buildings. There appeared to be no evidence of any form of artificial construction. It was as if the very structures had been grown from the ground itself. Though given the nature of the science and technology involved, that may not have been far off from the truth. Sphinxes soared overhead or prowled the streets. Many eyed the interlopers, but none dared to approach. In the far distance, a stretch of land had been cleared to reveal a massive temple lined with fat columns that were intricately painted and marked. Statues of Sphinxes lined the path leading up to the temple’s main entrance while two grand statues, one of a wyvern and the other of a great bird-like creature with a lion’s head stood to either side at the end of the two rows. A great flowing mane that looked almost like hair blew out behind the lion’s head as it raised its voice in a frozen song, or perhaps something else. From the top of the great structure, a number of dark specks rose and circled, then began to glide toward the party.
“I’m going to take a guess that that’s our welcoming party,” Vital Spark said as he pointed to the figures.
“Likely,” Grif said. “Be prepared for anything.”
Day Moon nodded and checked his spare weapons. “Are we going to have to fight?” he asked.
“They won’t risk it right away.” Hammer Strike squinted as he observed the creatures’ approach.
Five Sphinxes touched down before the group. Four of the beasts wore robes that were partially coated with patches of metal armor in key points to protect against deadly attacks. The fifth gazed at each of the gathered party with a calm and calculating gaze.
“Greetings to you, King Hammer Strike, and to your party. As we suspected, your wisdom and knowledge have granted you the key to enter our city. I hope you will forgive our tardiness. We did not expect you to arrive so quickly as you have.”
“It was requested of us that we would hold off our arrival for two weeks, I thought it best to follow that schedule,” Hammer Strike responded.
“Of course. If you and your fellows would be willing to follow us, it will be our honor to escort you to the Temple of the Remembered.”
Up close, the statues were far more immense than the group could have anticipated, save for Hammer Strike, thanks to the functions on his augmented eyes. As the Sphinxes approached the divide between the two, they each bowed to the one, then the other in a sign of the utmost reverence.
“Are these gods?” Vital Spark asked.
“They are the lost, the source of our mother’s bereavement, both of her joy and of her sanity in times long since past,” the guide said, and for once, the calm exterior cracked to expose an abiding sorrow.”
“The two lost children.” Grif nodded, offering his own bow of the head to each.
“Katiya, the younger, she who inherited her mother’s gift of prophecy and a love of life. Her song brought joy to all who heard it, and it was said that those groves in which she chose to rest herself would spring with the blessing to heal and restore life to all who partook of their fruit.” The Sphinx looked sadly at the Wyvern. “And Krugan, the elder. To fall under his shadow was to court with death. His life was a solitary one out of necessity as an embodiment of death. His fate is tragic. Driven to madness, he slew his beloved sister and threatened the balance that their mother embodied. To save her and the balance, the North Wind’s child acted in rage and mercy to end Krugan’s life. You know well the result of that most painful act, Avatar.”
“As it would be for any parent,” Grif acknowledged. “I have half a dozen children myself, and I would be destroyed if such a thing happened to them.”
“As would many others.” The guide nodded. “If you wish, you may pay your respects to them later. For now, however, our leader awaits you.”
“Of course. Lead the way.” Grif gestured.
The great halls of the temple complex stretched mazelike through the passages into all manner of quarters and other compartments for religious observances and studies. In time, they pressed on into the final chamber, where a great throne awaited. Unlike those designed for humans, this one was meant for the four-legged creatures to sit and lay upon. True to the description, the ruler was a perfect division of black and white. A great crown laid upon his head with a red rim and a large white protrusion extending from the center with a golden serpent protruding at the front.
“Welcome, King Hammer Strike, to Aínigma. We are glad to see you here with your party.” He nodded to each member respectively. “I am King Osiris, the current ruler chosen by our goddess to guide our people.”
“A pleasure.” Hammer Strike gave a nod. “I’m sure we’ll have much to discuss later.”
“Indeed. It is my hope that we may provide some assistance to the Avatar as well during your stay to better facilitate the return of the Winds. Our archives are open to you, Grif Bladefeather. If you wish, once you all are properly rested and refreshed, I will arrange an escort to guide you there while King Hammer Strike and I discuss matters of diplomacy.”
“I’ll ask that my wife and apprentice accompany me,” Grif said.
“As is only right.” The king nodded. “It shall be as you wish. And as the foal is under your care, he shall be provided quarters alongside your own as well.” Osiris rose and stretched, then dismounted from his throne to descend on the group with lithe grace. “Come, you are just in time for our noontime meal. And I am certain that the priests and priestesses will be most anxious to meet you, as will the oracles.”
“Of course,” Grif said. “Please, lead on.”
The scent of incense mingled with the delectable smell of cooked meat and rich spices. A spread of all manner of dishes laid out before them with blends of rice and vegetables that complemented the meatier dishes. Stews and sauces, even a layered dish not unlike lasagna waited for them.
“Wait, if you’re all isolated like this, how do you have cheese?” Vital Spark asked.
“Our people do more than gather knowledge from the outside world,” Osiris explained. “We also trade for various resources. We are merely careful to ensure that our appearances look more like our cousins to avoid arousing suspicion.”
The robes that garbed many of the Sphinxes at the great banquet table were intricately woven with a number of symbols pertaining to life and death. Some were garbed in the traditional wear of ancient Egypt, including circlets and filmy cloth to expose what lay beneath. The remainder gazed with wizened eyes that seemed to flicker between the intense gaze of an avid listener and the far-off fog of one who has been taken in thrall.
“Please, be seated.” Osiris motioned toward the head of the table, where places had been cleared and prepared for the guests. “Our food is not that of your kingdom, but we hope it will prove satisfactory in its own right.”
“It looks amazing.” Grif smiled.
“High praise, indeed.” Osiris returned the smile as he assumed his position at the head of the table. “Friends and honored guests, it is truly a momentous day for our people and the city which we have worked so very hard to build and preserve….”
As Osiris continued with his speech, a loud crackling screech blared in Hammer Strike’s ears, followed by a familiar voice. “Hello? Hello. Hammer Strike, darling, can you hear me?”
Hammer Strike managed to keep himself from wincing. ‘Well, this wasn’t how I expected this conversation to go,’ Hammer Strike replied through his augments. ‘It’s been a long time, E. Too long.’
“Hmm. Perhaps,” Edna agreed. “But you are here now, and that is exactly where I need you to be. Tell me, Hammer Strike, are you aware of your current situation?”
‘Which part of it, to be exact?’ Hammer Strike refrained from frowning in thought. ‘Right now, I’ve been having to deal with these augments screaming at me about the tech around here, and it’s not exactly like the Sphinxes actually wanted me to come here.’
“They are collectors. They know what it would mean to attempt to collect you. Many do not remember what you did to the Dragons. The Sphinxes are not one of them. As you can doubtless guess, I have been waiting for word of your return. I was disappointed not to hear of your coming sooner, but in a way, that is still a blessing. I’m a designer, darling, not a goddess, and certainly not a ruler. I am, however, at least somewhat a prisoner. Custodian may be the better word. As you said, they have Alicorn technology. That would be dangerous if used by the wrong hooves. I’ve been careful to prevent those catastrophes. And in thanks for their treatment, I also designed some of their robes. I had to keep my skills sharp somehow, after all.”
‘I know they’ll have their attempts at myself and the others. I’ve taken a copy of Vega from the Crystal Empire to assist with any potential threats to these augmentations or myself.’
“I thought that was you,” Edna replied. “I’m surprised you weren’t alerted to my signal. With the island gone, I had to route my devices through the mana network at the tower. What were you doing, putting down a coup?”
‘I was too busy at the time dealing with a war, and I had established Vega as the control for the empire while I was away. That, and some programming issues with the crystalline ponies, which is mostly fixed now.’
“Yes, I heard about that development. I was more than surprised when my signal suddenly returned after waiting for over a thousand years. Speaking of which, is your Gryphon friend here with you?”
‘Yeah, he’s here too.’
“Excellent. I’ll be expecting you for your fittings after you finish with the formalities. Don’t keep me waiting too long, darling.”
‘I doubt they’re going to make it that easy. Nevertheless, we’ll figure this all out. Keep everything you want to keep close, as you won’t be staying here for much longer.’
“What kind of crafter do you take me for?” Edna chuckled over the line. “I’ve been ready for millennia. Go on. I’ll broadcast my location to you soon. I have other ways to contact your friend, so don’t worry about him.”
‘I’ll keep that in mind. Until then, I’ve got to keep our new hosts at bay.’ Hammer Strike glanced over everyone present.
“For others, that is a challenge. For you, child’s play.” She laughed again. “Ta-ta, darling. I’m looking forward to seeing you again. I do so enjoy our little chats.”
With the conversation concluded, Hammer Strike returned his attention to the feasting table. Some Sphinxes were eying him warily. Others were fixated on Grif and his wife. Vital Spark and Day Moon both waited patiently, seemingly invisible to the gazes of the Sphinxes. That could prove a potential asset in the future. For now, Hammer Strike knew it was time to focus on the task at hand. And as Osiris finally drew to a close, the party began to eat.
“So…” Grif looked to Avalon once they’d been shown their rooms. “That was way too friendly.”
“You are the Avatar of Winds, Grif,” Avalon pointed out. “The title does deserve a certain amount of respect, especially when you were the one responsible for restoring their goddess and ultimately will be for returning the rest of the Winds to Equis.”
“Yes, but they’re offering so much knowledge, and seemingly for free. No one operates like that. They want something,” Grif noted.
“And how do you intend to find out what?”
“I’m not sure,” he admitted. “They clearly think less of us, though.”
“It’ll make it that much sweeter when you outclass them, then, won’t it?”
“Maybe, but it seems like they’re playing us about something.”
“Then we’ll just have to play them better. For now, though, how about you and I finish settling in? We have a lot of studying to do soon, you know.”
“And we’re all alone.” He gave her a smile.
“Except for Day Moon next door,” she reminded him playfully.
“The walls are thick,” he retorted.
“And what did you have in mind?” Avalon teased as she ran a talon gently over Grif’s chest.
“Let's find out,” he said, then kissed her and led her toward the bed.
The subtle thrum of machinery at work seemed to emanate from every direction, not as an annoyance, but more like a background form of static. While the exteriors of the many buildings were simple and seamless, the surfaces belied the interior. The temple remained without these devices, most likely in honor of the past and the goddess the Sphinxes had lost and found again. Now, the metal disk that served as their elevator pulled them ever upward with no indication of height other than the digital counter that showed on the display next to the control panel.
“The majority of travel between the structures of our city occurs via flight, since no species that lives here has ever had to worry about falling to their deaths. After the invitation was extended, however, we hastened to prepare some proper structures to ensure you would be able to traverse the city more comfortably,” their guide explained to the Hammer Strike and Vital Spark.
“That implies you’ve ignored the potential of damage that one could take, either through physical injury, or genetic lottery.” Hammer Strike raised a brow. “Though, given the level of technology you have, I suppose I’m not too surprised.”
“You guess correctly. Through the use of our technology, we have been able to avoid such incidents and plan proper methods of treatment and prevention. I feel it important to note, however, that we do not seek to control our reproduction, nor do we seek to alter ourselves as the firstborn did. Our goddess would not look kindly upon such blasphemy.”
“Good.”
The Sphinx barely suppressed a shudder, though her claws did scrape against the metal briefly as her paws flexed in her anxiety.
“So, where are we going right now?” Vital Spark asked.
“One of our observation stations. When reports are filed from our intelligence gathering, we update our information and reconstruct it to give a proper view of the world and its current geopolitical situation from a virtual standpoint.”
“Don’t you need to wait for your scouting parties to return and report before you can manage that, though? That could take months or years before they get back, right?” Vital Spark asked.
“In some cases, perhaps,” the Sphinx agreed, “but we have managed to collect a large enough store of knowledge to help mitigate the issue. And while you are a delegation from another kingdom, indeed, the very ruler of that kingdom, I’m afraid I am not allowed to disclose our methods without prior authorization and clearance.”
“No need. I’ve already got a good idea of how it works,” Hammer Strike replied simply.
The guide raised a questioning brow, but let the subject drop. A few moments later, the doors slid silently open to reveal a chamber very much like the Gantrithor’s bridge. A great planning table pulsed with energy as a grid projected on the main surface while a globe hovered overhead, showing each of the primary landmasses of the planet. The sun and moon each circled around the globe in the steady climb that Luna and Celestia always oversaw, and a gentle corona of color circled each to indicate the magical signatures of the princesses. Sphinxes worked at monitors, stations, and anywhere between as they sorted, filed, and updated information or looked up as necessary to keep the projection up to date.
“Our technology and magic also allow us the ability to track the movements of potential threats and enemies, including the Changelings that seem to have taken such a … fixation with your city.”
“Of course. They still have yet to learn their lesson.” Hammer Strike frowned as he scanned over the room.
“If there is anything you would like to see within reason from our database, we are authorized to provide a demonstration.”
Hammer Strike glanced to Vital.
Vital Spark frowned and tapped his chin in thought. “Do you guys have any records on Gargoyles?”
More than one head turned at that. “Curious that you should ask about that particular species. Equestria hasn’t had contact with them since Scorpan.”
Vital Spark raised a brow in Hammer Strike’s direction. “He wouldn’t happen to have a relationship to a less-than-reputable Centaur by the name of Tirek, would he?”
“His … brother, actually.” The Sphinx looked more intently at Vital Spark, then to Hammer Strike. “Though we were under the impression that the brothers and their history with Equestria was more of a state secret….”
“Vital works alongside many who know such secrets. I trust them enough with whatever information they wish to give to him,” Hammer Strike replied simply.
“... Very well, then. The Nether Lands it is.” A brief nod toward the technicians soon had the globe turning and zooming in on Equestria, then to the south where a massive and deep canyon divided the land mass from a place that was far more barren. Great fields filled to the brim with taller and larger crops swayed in the arid wind as the display passed over them and finally halted in front of a great gnarled tower that stretched into the heavens. “There lies the Midnight Palace, where the king and queen reside and rule jointly. As one might guess, their subjects consist of Centaurs and Gargoyles.”
Vital looked to the projection, then to Hammer Strike. “Did you ever have dealings with them before?” he asked of the ruler.
Hammer Strike nodded. “Long ago. Though they lived as two states at the time.”
“Well, that’s going to be interesting, then, when they reach out for relations again,” Vital said. “Color me impressed.”
The Sphinx smiled wanly. “We take a certain amount of pride in what we have been able to accomplish, though preservation is our primary goal. Was there anything in particular that you wished to find yourself, King Hammer Strike?”
“I don’t believe so, no. I have my own methods of gathering information,” Hammer Strike replied simply.
“Forgive me for the miscommunication. I meant more to ask if there was anything you wished to see for yourself, not for the sake of spying, but merely to watch the system at work.”
“It’s fine, I’ve seen similar systems in the past.”
The guide’s face became a mask of neutrality. “Very well, then. There is still much to see. If you would follow me back to the elevator, I will guide you to the next stop.”
Hammer Strike hummed to himself as he moved to follow while Vital Spark took up the rear.
The smell of paper and parchment mingled with the subtle scent of lubricant and disinfectant as Avalon and Grif pawed over the shelves of the library in search of the information for which they had come.
“You know they’re being infuriatingly vague on purpose, right?” Avalon asked as she laid the next stack of books onto one of the many study tables in the room.
“Yup. Stalling tactics,” Grif said as he looked through one volume. “Probably could take years to find what we need normally.”
“So what do you intend to do about it?”
“Already working on it,” he said. “Almost have half the place categorized.”
“They could just be playing a shell game with us, you know.”
“Did I ever tell you about Toph?”
“Can’t say that you have.”
“Toph was a blind girl with the ability to move the earth and see through vibrations. She used this ability to con a shell game conman by forcing the stone back into the cup when he tried to get rid of it.”
“And that’s supposed to help us here, how? These are hardly two-bit con artists we’re dealing with.”
“No, but they do need to disturb the air to move through it,” Grif said.
“Are you suggesting holding them hostage somehow or more trying to catch them in the act? We can’t tell which is a librarian and which is the one making things difficult, you know.”
“No, but we can tell when books are being moved.”
Avalon tapped her beak in thought. “We should get a proper diagram of the other archives, too, just to be sure.”
Grif set down a hand-drawn diagram.
“Have you been doing some late night spying?”
“Here and there,” Grif admitted.
“I’d ask how you managed to trick their security, but I’m guessing that’s a trade secret.”
“If I told you, I’d have to kill them.”
“... Them?”
“The guards, the librarians, anyone in perceivable hearing range.”
“Ah. Now I understand.” Avalon smiled. “And I see where Shrial gets her bluntness from now.” She pecked him on the cheek. “Keep your secrets, then. Let’s not be the ones to spoil things for Hammer Strike. That Pony can make his own diplomatic incidents.”
“I thought you’d be happy to know that killing you isn’t something I’d consider.”
Avalon laughed and kissed him again. “I’ve known that ever since the day you proposed, dear. And I’m not about to forget it,” she purred.
“Love you.” Grif smirked. “Anyway, I think I've almost found what we’re looking for.”
“Almost can mean many things, Grif.” She smirked. “Including panic for our most gracious hosts.”
The dark of the night sky was broken by the moon and stars to shed the beauty of the heavens over the space. This was no new sight to Hammer Strike, however. He must have seen hundreds of thousands of these kinds of nights over the years of service he had given to Equestria, both in the past and in the present. The Sphinxes knew better than to try to attack him directly. That being said, if they had the technology, then it was only a matter of time until they tried to hack him directly.
“Yes, yes, that’s very nice, Hammer Strike, but there are more important matters for us to discuss,” Edna’s voice snapped out of nowhere to reverberate in his skull.
‘I figured as much, though it mostly relies on you contacting me for these discussions to happen,’ Hammer Strike replied.
“Are you in a prison cell? Are you being watched by spies? No, darling. And don’t worry about the security cameras. I’ve already taken care of that. What you need to do now is come by so we can have a proper little chat, just like the old days, and we can catch each other up on what you’ve missed over a cup of tea.”
‘I assume you’ve got directions for me?’ Hammer Strike hummed. ‘Either that or I could use alternative means, since the cameras are down here, and I assume where you are.’
“Darling, assume nothing. I’ve already sent my coordinates. You just have to sneak past the guards. And knowing you, I’m certain you already know how to do it. I’ll be waiting for you.”
‘Stealth. Joy….’ Hammer Strike sighed. ‘Let’s try a better alternative. Mind casting a simple levitation spell on something near you, and ensure the room isn’t too bright?’
“For you, darling, not a problem.”
Hammer Strike hummed as he broadened his magical scan of the environment. After a moment he finally found E’s magical signature along with the room she occupied. Given the size of the space, he was capable of isolating the perfect spot to emerge. It had been a long time since he had travelled through shadow, but he hadn’t forgotten the process. Finding a sufficient dark spot of his own room, he focused on his shift and strode into the blackness.
The room he emerged into was well furnished with high quality furniture and the most expensive of fabrics and dyes. Beads, jewels, metals, and other precious materials were compartmentalized on their drawer-like shelves that could slide in and out. A familiar data pad laid casually on a side table next to a luxurious bed that was several sizes too large for the Alicorn. Gauzy drapes were drawn back and tied to the bedposts to be dropped again when the mare was ready to sleep. Her horn glowed and hummed as she held a candle casually in the air. The mare was a vision of beauty, despite her relatively diminutive size. A white dress hemmed with gold, jade, and sapphire along the neck offered a splash of color and accent to draw the eyes toward her face where an intent gaze demanded attention and spoke of the sheer charisma that lay hidden within. Her bowl cut functioned perfectly to match the overall cultural theme of her garb.
“Well, you’ve certainly grown,” Hammer Strike spoke up suddenly.
Edna whirled around in surprise, and her cigarette holder darted to Hammer Strike’s throat just as quickly before she finally was able to let down her guard. She eyed Hammer Strike up and down, strode to within a hoof’s breadth of the stallion, and finally spoke as she seized her holder in her hooves. “My gods, you’ve gotten tall.”
“Well, the medical cube wasn’t exactly configured to my species.” Hammer Strike chuckled. “Thankfully, it didn’t try anything about wings or a horn.”
“It probably didn’t have the materials for prosthesis.” Edna shrugged. “So, it took you this long to come back, hmm? I know you said you came from the future, but I must admit I didn’t expect to be holing up in this place for over five millennia.”
“Well, given your current company, I suppose you really didn’t have a good method of contacting me until just recently. Especially since they were after Grif, and not myself. I just happened to catch on to their arrival.”
“Well, given the fact I didn’t have the array to amplify my signal, it’s a good thing that you tagged along. Speaking of which, I have the armor for your Gryphon friend. It’s not the same as if it came from my lab on the island, but it will do for now until I can construct better facilities.”
Hammer Strike blinked a few times. “I ... didn’t know you were making armor for him. I don’t even know how you got the measurements, but I’ll let him know.”
“You said they wanted your friend. That implies a certain rarity that would catch these Sphinxes’ eyes. You attract rarity, darling. I’m sorry, but it’s true. And since I know you would never allow anyone else to step hoof or claw on that island, let alone my workshop, without your permission, it follows that the Gryphon whose scans were broadcast to me after power was restored to the systems is the one you mentioned to me in our little chats before we had to part ways. Especially since he also had a thaumic field.”
“I’m going to be honest with you. I got pulled to the past before that trip was concluded, so I don’t know anything of what occurred after I departed, since the priority to them was figuring out where I was. I still need to return and deal with some things.” Hammer Strike rubbed the back of his head.
Edna hummed and rubbed her chin. “That would explain the sudden signal array and the fact that I still couldn’t reach you while the signal was secure.”
“Yeah.” Hammer Strike sighed. “In any case, we’ve got some things to discuss. In particular, our plans moving forward.”
“Indeed.” Edna tented her wings and gazed intently at the Pony. “Doubtless, you can guess another reason why I chose to stay here. It goes without saying that what these Sphinxes have created is dangerous if mismanaged.”
“Considering the number of alerts I’ve received, I figured as much, and if I am to take you from here, they might retaliate with something. In turn, I have installed the AI from the Crystal Empire onto my augments, and then imported it into their systems.”
“An AI? Hammer Strike, we rarely used that technology. Too much potential for evolution beyond control. Did you do something to the researchers there to make them spin one out of whole cloth?”
“Turns out they made one on their own before I arrived. Though, I did arrive late, giving them plenty of time. Vega is the name of it. After implanting myself into the system and subsequently killing off the other Alicorns, I became the sole owner of the facility, and Vega studied how I ran it before introducing itself and assisting me in running it, leading me to believe they designed it to assist running the facility due to a lack of communication back home.”
“And it hasn’t done anything beyond your desires since?”
“Not a thing.”
“Then it must like you.” She smirked. “I am not surprised. I assume you intend to destroy the systems here, then, before we depart?”
“For the most part.” He nodded. “Some systems, I’ll leave running, as they hold no threat.”
“In a way, they are the opposite of what the Firstborn became. While they relied too much on technology, these rely too much on magic and preserving that magic. Neither is good when relied upon too much. It will take a firm hoof to teach them that lesson, however.”
Hammer Strike nodded. “Indeed. I assume you have prepared everything you will be taking with you? At least, that which can be moved easily and unnoticed.”
“Of course, darling. I made ready as soon as the signal cut off from the island. Anything else they find won’t work for them without me here.”
“Good. Then as soon as Grif has finished gathering what he is here for, I’ll send you the notice to get ready. Do be warned, of course. There isn’t much tech where I reside, so we’ll have to start it from the ground up for you. Either that, or using some of the crystal relays.”
“I have no illusions, Hammer Strike. Give me a studio and I am a happy mare. Let me build up a real studio, and I’ll give you some even better toys to play with.”
“I think I’ve got enough to play with.” Hammer Strike chuckled briefly. After a moment, he hummed. “You know what? I think I still have a small precaution that you could use until better established.” He reached into his coat before pulling out the magitech pistol he’d used in the past. It was maintained well enough, but some marks of time had reached it. “Even if you don’t use it, you could consider it a memento from Andre,” he finished, offering the pistol over.
Edna took the pistol gently and cradled it in her hooves. “He always was a clever colt,” she said softly. “It’s good to know he took some of my lessons to heart after all those years.”
Hammer Strike gave a soft smile. “I’ll leave the holster to you, as I’m quite sure mine would be a tad too loose.”
“Are you calling yourself fat, Hammer Strike?” Edna asked with a wry smirk.
“Clearly,” he chuckled. “It’s good to see you again, Edna.”
“Likewise, Hammer Strike.” She smiled. “I’m looking forward to seeing my little grand nieces again.”
“I don’t know if they could handle the surprise, especially after just seeing their parents again,” he replied before quickly adding, “and before you ask, sadly, no. I made a deal with Faust for them to get some closure.”
“I see.” Edna sighed. “I suspected that might be the case, but I had hoped….”
“I couldn’t go for much longer, but I was able to give them at least a day. I’m sure they’ll both be quite surprised to see you, though, and to know that you’ll be sticking around.”
“I suppose I will have to get acquainted with little Luna again. After all, she was so young when you took them.”
“Yeah, … and the trauma didn’t help much either. Most of their memories of the island are repressed. They still remember some bits and pieces, but not all of it. I don’t blame them, considering how young they both were.”
Edna nodded. “Then for now, I will wait for you to come. There may be some that want to follow me, however, when we leave.”
“Don’t worry. Not only can they not hide from my augments, but I have weapons to deal with such followers.”
“Well, yes, I suppose I’ll have those, too, but I mean actual followers, Hammer Strike. They are … rather heavily attached to me.”
“Ah. Well … if you trust them enough, I suppose we could take them with us. I have brought a big enough airship.”
“Darling, they would die for me if they had to.”
“Then, I suppose, alert them to the upcoming departure at your leisure. I’ll bring Grif by when you next have an opening.”
Edna nodded. “I assume you won’t be coming by shadow next time?”
“I can if need be, but so long as the cameras are off, I can just make a rift now that I’ve been here.”
“I can’t always keep them off. Tell me when you plan to come again if you need to do it in secret and I’ll make the preparations. Regardless, Hammer Strike, I’d like you to keep me informed of any developments. I’m an old mare, after all, and even I am not immune to the desire to stick my nose where it doesn’t belong.”
Hammer Strike chuckled as he moved back toward a shadow in the room. “Will do. Until then, if you need anything, you know how to reach me,” he remarked as he pulled himself into the shadows once more.
Edna smiled and shook her head as she levitated her tablet over. “You never cease to fascinate me, darling. It seems you and I have a few more of our little chats to hold yet.”
The night was still and clear as Day Moon gazed out his window into the sky above. The place was so alien, but the night touched anywhere and everywhere. It didn’t care where a person sat. It never judged one as worthy or better than another. It embraced all equally and ushered them to sleep. All save for those who were born to truly enjoy this moment of maternal bliss.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” a voice asked.
Day Moon whipped his head around in surprise. The room was empty. No shadows stirred. No foe breathed. And though Day Moon’s heart beat against his chest, there was no sense of danger like he’d felt when hunting with Grif. “Is … someone there?” he asked hesitantly.
“Don’t be scared,” a soothing motherly voice said.
Day Moon cocked his head and frowned. The voice was familiar. “Bonnie?”
“Yes, my child, it is me,” Bonnie said.
“Where are you?”
“Unfortunately, it is still beyond my power to manifest in another domain without permission,” she explained.
“And this is the domain of the fifth Wind,” Day Moon reasoned. “And she’s too busy to talk to, I’m guessing?”
“Yes,” Bonnie said. “Also, what I need you to do isn’t exactly nice.”
“You made me to be a monster hunter. Is this going to be worse than facing down those monsters?”
“I need you to steal some records for me.”
“... A goddess of justice who hunts the dark stalkers wants me to steal….”
“Day Moon, am I the goddess of sainthood?”
“I … don’t think so? We are still kind of getting used to everything you were.”
“Sometimes, we must accept the moral gray for the sake of the future,” she said.
“And that moral gray is you want me to steal from some super smart predators that probably know how to keep thieves from taking their stuff?” He rubbed his chin. “I … may need to ask Grif for some help on this one. Is that okay?”
“It is fine,'' she confirmed. “You must find and secure the records on the Thestral shaministic arts.”
“Are there a lot of them?”
“There should be six tomes, each bound with a silver crescent moon on the spine.”
“And I’m guessing you can’t tell me where it is?”
“Not my realm,” she said.
“I’ll take that as a yes.” Day Moon nodded. “We’ll figure it out. For some reason, things always work out right when Grif and Hammer Strike are there.”
“They have a way of messing with fate,” she agreed with a chuckle.
“Was there anything else I can do for you tonight, Ma’am?” Day Moon asked politely.
“No, Day Moon, you will have good dreams tonight,” the voice promised.
Day moon chuckled. “Then tomorrow night, we get to steal some books.”
“Thank you, my child.”
“Get well soon, Bonnie,” Day Moon said by way of farewell.
“With your help, I will,” Bonnie said before her presence faded.
Day Moon sighed and gazed up into the starry heavens again. He knew he should get to bed. His goddess has told him he would need to be ready to help steal those books, and he’d need to be alert enough to tell Grif and Avalon about it, but still…. “Maybe just five more minutes....”
“Now, you see, the thing I’ve discovered is they never take books out of here,” Grif explained to Avalon as they walked down the aisles and aisles of shelves. “They will rearrange them often, but they never take them out of the library itself.”
“Given how their system works, I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s because their filing system is magically based. They can probably switch books anywhere in their designated rooms and call them at will, but if the book is removed from its proper place, it can’t be summoned, and who knows what other measures might be in place to keep them from being removed without permission,” Avalon added.
“Yes. Too bad they overthink things,” Grif said, eyeing the shelves.
“In what way?”
Grif pointed. “If you recall from the records we do have, they weren’t made with the eyesight we have,” Grif commented. “The dust here was disturbed in the last day, and that area the day prior.”
“If they use magic to rearrange the shelves instead, that could just be a ploy to divert your attention, you know,” Avalon pointed out.
“Considered that, but it seems unlikely.” Grif shrugged. “That’d be giving us credit.”
“And you honestly think they wouldn’t after how much they’ve been watching you?”
“There was a conqueror back on earth named Napoleon Bonaparte. The man nearly conquered all of one of the largest landmasses on the planet. You know what stopped him?”
“You know I don’t, dear,” Avalon said patiently.
“Well, according to some stories, the Duke of Wellington defeated him in the battle of Waterloo because Napoleon’s huge ego had him make massive heavily armed ships, so the Duke of Wellington made ships so small they didn’t reach the first line of cannons and sailed right next to Napoleon’s ships and fired point blank.”
“I assume you’re going to make a point?”
“Sometimes ego overrides common sense so powerfully that you won’t adjust until it’s too late,” Grif said as he ran a talon carefully across book bindings.
“Grif, are you generating afterimages to distract our hosts?”
“Always,” Grif said as he pulled a book off the shelf and opened it, showing the author's name to Avalon.
“That cover doesn’t look like the original,” Avalon noted as she eyed the surface. “How did you figure it out?”
“This book was moved an hour before we arrived, and it was hidden in Peacetime Philosophy.”
Avalon smirked. “And you promise you didn’t get any more visits from a certain spirit to nudge you in the right direction?”
“Yup,” he said. “Now, do you have those bound sheets of blank paper I told you to get?”
“I just hope I brought enough.” She fished the papers out of her satchel and passed them to Grif.
“What you're about to see is a state secret,” Grif told her. “If you tell anyone about this, it’s treason, and even I can’t help you,” he warned.
“In that case, then I’d better not see it,” Avalon said. She kissed him gently on the cheek, then closed her eyes. “Let me know when you’re finished.”
Grif took a deep breath as he held the journal in one hand and the bound blank papers in the other. He started to pull in energy as he concentrated on his will. Doing as Hammer Strike had taught him, he willed the cover into existence. The drain was immense as, slowly, aspects began pulling around the sheaves. Grif put everything he had toward the makeup of the cover, copying it down to the slightest detail as he worked. What would take Hammer Strike seconds took him twenty minutes before he held two seemingly identical books. With a far easier effort, he removed but didn’t destroy the existing enchantments on the journal and stitched them onto the blank, creating a fake he hoped would go unnoticed for some time.
“You can open your eyes now,” he said, panting slightly.
“That took a lot longer than I thought,” Avalon said as she eyed her husband appraisingly. “Are you all right?”
“Tell me using only your magic, which of these is the real thing?”
Avalon reached into her satchel and frowned for a moment before finally producing a clear focus. She gazed through the crystal and nodded as it gave a minor glow. Then she ran it over both covers, peering intently through it. Finally, she pointed to the original. “That one.” She smiled knowingly. “But I don’t think they’ll be interested in cracking the cover.”
“Not till we’re gone, I hope,” Grif said, sliding the fake in place. “This isn’t stealing, more like reclaiming what's rightfully mine.”
“So you think it was stolen from the tower?”
“Grask and his wives were to be laid to rest in Gryphon territory with all their belongings. This knowledge is for me to use to help our future.”
“I thought you were looking to understand the origins of your swords, not look for prophecies and portents,” Avalon chided as she folded her arms.
“Technically, we’re getting both. This is the journal of Grask’s Sphinx wife,” he noted. “She was a prophetess as well.”
“I’m aware, Grif. I just think you need to be careful is all. I don’t think she’d appreciate you looking for more than what you meant to find in the first place.”
“I can’t exactly memorize the entire thing in a few days, can I?”
“I never said anything against studying, Grif. I just said you should be cautious,” Avalon said. “Now let’s put the book back before our hosts get anxious. We have been standing here an awfully long time, and we still need to find those books for Day Moon, too.”
“Yeah, lets get looking,” Grif agreed as he put the journal inside his tunic into a pocket that operated a lot like his pack but on a smaller scale. “Those may take a little more work.”
“At least we won’t have to worry about them being switched around all the time.” Avalon smiled. “Though I suppose we should keep ‘looking’ for the journal to keep up appearances.”
“Yeah.” Grif nodded “Let's get going. It won’t be around here, anyway.”
“Oh, most certainly not,” Avalon agreed, even as she smirked. “Maybe we should try the comparative theology sections. As you said, she was a prophetess, after all.”
“Yeah lets get going,” Grif said, leading the way, even as he wrapped a wing around his love.
“And perhaps we can get Day Moon to help. We don’t want to leave him unaccompanied for too long. Pensword would flay us alive.”
“Good plan.” He nodded.
She leaned in to preen some of his feathers and whispered covertly. “We really need to figure out a way to communicate without talking. Playful banter is one thing, but this is getting a bit tedious.”
“You mean like body language?” He wiggled his eyebrows roguishly.
Avalon laughed and rolled her eyes heavenward. “What am I going to do with you?”
“Taking suggestions?”
“Oh, I’m always open to suggestions,” Avalon said as she purred and brushed against her mate. “Shall we?”
“Of course. Lead the way.”
“Wait, weren't all the Alicorns dead?” Grif asked of his friend. A quick shadow step had brought the Gryphon to Hammer Strike’s quarters without any difficulty.
“I thought so, myself, until just before the Sphinxes arrived. An old friend had some information on a potential threat hidden amongst them, but it turned out to be Edna.” Hammer Strike sighed. “Though we all had plans to escape the island, I never heard from any of them, apart from Teller, again. Turns out, she couldn’t contact me because she’s been held captive here.”
“We’re not about to massacre the entire population of this city, are we?”
Hammer Strike shook his head. “No, we won’t have to. They’re not stupid enough to try confrontation, especially since I’ve basically taken over their system already using an AI from the Crystal Empire, who I made a copy of for here.”
“Bit of a strange concept in a quasi-medieval world, but not the weirdest.” Grif chuckled. “So, I take it you need me for something if I’m here listening to this.”
“We have a quick trip to make, and I’ve already confirmed we’re clear, so,” a rift opened next to Hammer Strike. “After you.”
Grif passed through the rift without hesitation. When he emerged, he stared at an Alicorn approximately the same size as Twilight. Her dark bowl-cut mane was perfectly coiffed as she gazed over the Gryphon, then the rift. “Clever. Very clever,” Edna praised as Hammer Strike stepped through to join them and the rift closed behind him. She strode around the Gryphon and eyed him carefully. “Hmm. I may need to perform a few minor adjustments,” she mused as she circled round again to look the Gryphon in the face without the slightest hesitation. “I take it that you are Grif,” she said in that shrewd tone of analysis that only the greatest of fashionistas and designers seemed capable of conjuring, being at once cutting and inquiring.
“Yes, and you are the famous Edna,” Grif returned. “It’s great to finally meet you.”
“Yes, yes, a great pleasure. Very charmed, I’m sure,” Edna said dismissively. “Now, both of you come with me. We do not have all night, and I have a suit of armor that was literally made for you.” She strode near the coffee table that had been set up by a series of carefully crafted chairs and placed her hoof on a patch of floor. The tone of a scanner ran, followed by a pair of fine devices that emerged from the floor to scan her eyes. Once more, the mare spoke into a microphone, as she had on the island. Unlike then, a number of devices did not emerge ready to kill. “Well, don’t just stand there staring like an idiot. Come, come, come!”
“You really got a downgrade,” Hammer Strike remarked, “No turrets or missiles anymore?”
“Did you really want me to have those here for my ‘protectors’ to try to reverse engineer, darling?” Edna waved a wing dismissively as they descended the stairs. Bright red orbs hummed threateningly and gradually engaged a series of high-intensity lasers as the trio passed. “I have to keep things subtle.”
“I mean, either way, it works if they aren’t alive to study it.” Hammer Strike shrugged.
“Yes, but then I would have to kill all of them, Hammer Strike. I’m an artist, not a warlord. That is why I must show you my work. That is why you are here.” She flipped her cigarette holder handily in her magic and threw it at a target where it easily locked into place. Silicate parted and disintegrated to reveal a room that was virtually identical to the familiar workshop Hammer Strike had seen on the island. Loombs, shuttlecocks, laser printers, cutters, and more were carefully arranged to make maximum use and efficiency for the small space. In the corner, a display room awaited with a Gryphon-shaped mannequin inside.
The material was definitely not metal Grif had ever seen. If anything, it seemed in the family of carbon fiber and tactical kevlar, pliable yet strong. The shape was slimmer and form-fitting, the wings were to be covered by a skeletal frame that seemed designed not to hinder flight. The overall form was shaped for the least wind resistance, making for something Grif would have expected from earth. “How did you do this?” he asked.
“Simple, darling,” Edna assured him as she pulled her key back to her and took a seat before the chamber. She gestured invitingly to a larger portion that was most definitely designed for a Sphinx. “When my lab sent me the notice that you’d found it, I simply had to take up the challenge. Your biological and thaumic scans were just too much to resist!” She grinned and gazed at the armor set, then levitated a steaming pot and cup. “Tea and sugar?”
“Yes…” Grif said, a bit dazed as he settled into the proffered sectional.
“You, too, Hammer Strike,” Edna insisted. “A craftsman always takes advantage of the chance to learn new techniques, and we know each other far too well for me to suspect you of trying to steal my designs.” She quickly poured the tea and added the necessary helping before levitating the cup into the Gryphon’s waiting talons.
“Fair enough.” Hammer Strike shrugged as he approached.
As Hammer Strike took his seat, the whole chair jerked violently to the side as the simulation began. “I designed this with a personal alloy melded with carbon to ensure lightness and intense durability.” A wind tunnel blew, sending a stream over the surface of the armor. “Aerodynamic design that can cleave wind and slice through the bluster of any storm. It will provide greater options to you should you ever get caught in a situation where your natural talents cannot be utilized.” The wind tunnel disengaged as the suit was turned and a hail of projectiles from darts to arrows to bullets struck against it. “A deployable alloy to protect your feathers and wings from harm while actively harvesting and storing magic for you to deploy as you see fit. Since the wind is your specialty, I included a function that allows for compressed air bullets and manipulation of the armor pieces in the form of guided daggers and projectiles. A homing signal will bring them back to their proper locations, and each comes complete with its own homing beacon for easy tracking if you ever feel the need to mark your targets.”
True to her word, the weapons in question activated to decimate enemy targets, and the ammunition the mare spoke of clattered harmlessly to the floor. “Completely flame and water proof, and it includes an internal biomonitor and environmental controls to keep you alive in more intense conditions. Any lightning or other more dangerous elements of its kind are used to power batteries and backup reserves in the suit’s functions for personal use in whatever capacity you see fit. This also includes reusable stun grenades that you can trigger with a signal that is capable of piercing most physical barriers. Magic is unlikely to have any effect unless properly attuned to block the signal, though I make no guarantees about the grenades themselves. In the event of an overcharge, the remainder of the power will be expelled in the form of a temporary shield projection or can be channeled through your tail weapon to strike an unsuspecting enemy.
“You really thought of everything,” Grif said.
“And hand and machine washable, darling. That’s a new feature.”
“Yeah, we more use magic for that.” Grif chuckled.
“Magic is not always available. It is not wise to rely on it for every need. But then again, you two already know this.” Edna smiled as she flew off the platform and alighted at the end of the display chamber to key the code and open the door, then turned to face Grif. “Go on, go on. Try it on. I can’t fit it properly if I don’t see how it wears on you, darling.”
Grif needed some instructions but eventually managed to get the armor on. It fit snuggly but not uncomfortably to his body. Not only did the armor provide a full range of movement, but the weight truly was nearly non-existent. He scraped at it with his talons a few times, finding them skirting off with ease. “This is truly amazing.”
“The wings can be engaged by directing the flow of your magic through your own wings. It may take you a few tries to learn how to use the circuitry properly, but the rest should be simple for a warrior of your unique reputation.”
“This solves all the problems I was having with armor,” Grif laughed. “I could never find the mix between free movement and good defense.”
“Just mind the gaps, darling. I’m a designer, not a god. I expect you to still take care of yourself.”
“Of course.” Grif nodded. “But it helps.”
“Now that we have that taken care of, on to business.” Edna peered intently at Hammer Strike. “When do you want to make your move? If I am going to bring my followers with me when we depart, we will need time to prepare.”
“Given recent discoveries and recently obtained items, it’s likely that we’ll be moving out in roughly four days,” Hammer Strike replied after a moment of thought.
Edna nodded. “Then we will be ready. Did you want me to sneak onto the ship or make a more public example?”
“Public. If I’m going to give them a statement, I’m going to make sure it’s heard.”
Edna nodded. “Then so be it. Rest assured, I will be ready.” She smiled. “It will be good to have a proper challenge again. Believe it or not, I used to design for gods once. Nice people, very fashionable.”
“Well, your list of clients will likely be very diminished, given our destination, but we’ll see what we can figure out,” Hammer Strike chuckled.
Edna smiled knowingly as she sipped her tea. “Oh, I’m certain I’ll manage. You never know when the divine might show up.”
Day Moon peered intently at the shelving unit. The manuals were each marked with the moon in various phases from new to waxing to full to waning. As he drew near to the volumes, their symbols began to glow with a gentle light.
“I’m … going to guess that means they’re happy to see me?” Day Moon asked.
“It is a library. I’m certain the Sphinxes won’t mind if you take them off the shelves to look. If it were forbidden, they would have warned us or blocked off the shelves somehow,” Avalon encouraged with a smile. “Knowledge isn’t gained by sitting and doing nothing. Go ahead and take it.”
Day Moon picked up the first of the volumes. The thin silver line of the moon shone round about it, but the leather inside the circle became black as night. “I guess this is supposed to be a new moon.” As he pulled the volume down, his wings became stressed, and he grunted. “It’s heavy,” he huffed.
“Do you need help?” Grif asked him.
“Maybe for this one, yeah. It’s … kind of thick.” Without his willing it, the volume slipped from between his hooves and began to drop toward the floor. Before the colt could let out a cry, however, Grif’s talons had already closed around the binding.
“Whoa there.” Grif chuckled as he held the book up. “The new moon. That usually signifies the time before new life, right?” Grif asked.
“And death. It’s the beginning and the close of Bonnie’s cycle.” The colt fluttered in front of the volume as Grif held it up. “It’s weird, though. I’ve never had trouble holding onto a book like that before.” He frowned and peered at his hooves. “I thought we couldn’t drop things like that normally.”
“Perhaps it’s a protective measure to ensure only certain people can read it,” Avalon suggested.
“But why did Bonnie ask me to get it then if I can’t hold onto it?”
“I think you’re overthinking it, Day Moon,” Avalon said. “For now, how about we focus on getting the other volumes ready?”
Grif began pulling out multiple reams of paper. Taking the first volume, he began his work while Avalon and Day Moon pulled down the others.
Day Moon shuddered as he held up the last tome. This one was a veritable twin to the first, save for the symbol on its binding. While the first was black, this one pulsed with the silvery light of the full moon. It seemed only too eager to stay with the colt as he held it in his forelegs. “Okay, I think it definitely has to do with magic,” he said. “This one’s as thick as the first, maybe even thicker, but it’s not pulling me down at all.”
“Maybe it’s yours?” Grif asked.
Day Moon shrugged. “I guess Bonnie will tell me later.” Day Moon frowned. “By the way, Grif, don’t they have ways to keep an eye on us here, even if it’s not magical?”
“Sure they do, but I have it on good authority those ways see nothing,” Grif said.
“From Hammer Strike?”
Grif nodded. “He has it covered.”
“All right, then,” Day Moon said as he prepared his saddlebags, then looked to Avalon. “So, what do you want to do while we wait?” he asked.
“We can explore a little, if you’d like. I’m not sure how many books we’ll find that you can read, but I might be able to find something we can enjoy together to pass the time.”
Day Moon grinned. “Maybe some stories?”
Avalon laughed. “Yes, maybe some stories.”
“You know, Master Day Moon, I could tell you some tales from my younger days if you wanted something to entertain you,” Shadowsbane noted.
“I know, but your stories are always bloody, Shadowsbane. I appreciate the lessons you can teach me, but I’d like to try to find something that doesn’t always have to do with fighting. Does that make sense?”
The sword creaked, as if to smile. “Perfect sense, Master Day Moon.”
“I think I know just the place we can start,” Avalon added. “It helps being trained in ancient Gryphic.” And with a motherly wing around the colt, the two began their journey through the shelves in search of knowledge and fables untold.
Edna eyed the mannequins as Hammer Strike disengaged them from the railing in preparation for travel through the rift to his airship. “Careful with those, darling. The material is designed to adapt to the parameters I insert from my scans. Far easier to have a working model present than to require multiple visits for fittings and adjustments. It may try to take on some of your traits if you aren’t careful.”
“It takes multiple visits for you?” Hammer Strike chuckled as he slowed his pace for Edna’s sake. “I’ll try.”
“Darling, I just said these make it so I only require one.” Edna sighed. “Children. They never listen.”
“Come on. If I can do it just off looking at someone, before the augments mind you, I’m sure you can as well, given how skilled you are at this.”
Edna smiled wryly. “Perhaps, but I enjoy cheating. Don’t you?”
“I like the challenge, which was promptly taken by the augments, but still.” He chuckled as he finished up his current task. “Okay, on to the next.”
“I assume you also want me to dismantle my security grid before we depart?” Edna asked.
“Considering you’ll probably want to keep them, yeah, probably for the best.”
“For the best. For the greater good. These are things I have heard many say before. But it does beg the question. What is it that you really want, Hammer Strike?” She charged up her horn and shot a spell at one of her consoles. Before their eyes, the machine proceeded to shrink to the size of a model figurine.
“That’s a tough question to answer, and I’m sure you know that.” Hammer Strike raised a brow at Edna.
“It is the difficult questions that are always the most worthwhile to answer. Especially when they invite perspective. The children on the island lacked that quality. And while I trust you not to become like them, I still like to nudge things in the right direction.” She chuckled. “I suppose I must get that from my parents.”
Hammer Strike gave a brief chuckle. “Fair enough. I suppose the simplest answer to that is I want to leave this world in a better state than when I arrived. A cliché answer, sure, but it fits well enough.”
“An interesting desire,” Edna agreed. “One that is filled with possibility. You might just achieve that wish, too.” She rubbed her chin in thought, then shrugged. “As for me, well, you already know what I want. Design and creation will always be where I feel most at home. And I have a feeling that there will be many a collaboration in our future.”
“I’m sure there will be. Though, I hope the need for it never comes.”
“We always do, Hammer Strike. We always do. And yet, here we are.” She sighed. “It’s strange. I don’t miss the fighting, but I do miss constructing newer and better designs. I’m not sure what I would do if the world was at peace.”
“Forward momentum. It’s a difficult thing to keep up, but I’m sure, even in a time of peace, you would find a way to make those designs.” Hammer Strike smiled. “After all, perfection is an illusion, and there will always be more that can be made.”
Edna smirked. “Including your horseshoes, darling?”
“Considering everything, it’s the least damaging thing I can do.”
Edna chuckled. “Maybe you can give him some advice on smithing for the next set of artifacts he decides to craft, then.”
“No thanks. I’m sure there are better smiths in the afterlife, or even other divines who could do better than me.” Hammer Strike shook his head dismissively.
“You sell yourself too short, Hammer Strike. Be proud of your gifts,” Edna said as she shrunk another console. “They may just save the world one day.”
“I hope it doesn’t come to that.” Hammer Strike started packing other objects before using his coat to store them.
“Well, well. And who crafted this little beauty?” Edna asked curiously as she approached the coat. “It suits you, and the spatial manipulation is very subtle. I never would have known it could do that if I hadn’t seen you use it.”
“Believe it or not, this is the first coat I’ve ever owned and made. It’s been through a lot, and has been changed over the years. Between my own repairs and the amount of magic Rarity poured into patching it, it’s just … developed. The pocket dimension was an … accidental inclusion, but not unwelcome. It’s also … kind of alive?”
“May I?” she asked, half to Hammer Strike, half to the coat.
Hammer Strike pulled off the coat and offered it to Edna. “Sure. Just be wary of the weight.”
Edna crumpled to the floor as the fur-lined jacket fluttered over her body and drove her with the sheer weight it generated. “Mother Faust!” she swore.
“I did warn you.” Hammer Strike chuckled before turning toward the coat. “I think you should let up on the weight. At least until I’ve got you back.”
The coat yielded just enough to let her rise to her hooves. Her legs trembled as she looked over the ursa fur. “Lovingly tended, carefully sewn, and most definitely built upon from the original. The technique is adequate, and the stitching very well hidden. It’s almost as if it were one single piece.” She stroked the interior again. “This thread is … unique. You say that this was repaired by someone named Rarity?”
“One of my wives. She was my first wife before I was pulled to the island’s past. Then I was married to Clover during my reign until my return to the present,” Hammer Strike explained.
“I would like to meet her.” Edna narrowed her gaze as she peered more closely at the coat before moving to return it to its owner. The coat blurred before Hammer Strike had the chance to reclaim it, and suddenly it was on his frame again. Edna’s eyes widened in surprise. “Did the coat do that or was that you?”
“The coat. It doesn’t like to be separated from me for long.” Hammer Strike chuckled.
“Fascinating. You truly are a work of art,” she complimented the coat.
After a brief moment, he nodded. “It appreciates it.”
“As I meant to say before that extra show, your wife has talent. I believe I would like to meet her after I set up shop.”
“I’ll introduce you to her when we’re back at New Unity.” Hammer Strike smiled. “As for the fur on the interior, that’s from an Ursa. An Ursa Supremus, as we’ve dubbed it. Only one of it’s kind to exist, thankfully.”
“I suppose you don’t have any more of its fur left after all this time,” she mused. “That makes your coat all the more valuable.”
“I … may have some more that you could use for a personal project.”
Edna raised both brows. “You preserved it for all these years?”
“I have a professional who works for me. He’s quite skilled in … preservation.”
“Another secret, Hammer Strike?” Edna smirked. “I always liked that about you.”
“I’ve made a lot of … interesting allies over the years.”
“Then I look forward to meeting them. Now then, where were we?”
“Packing.”
Edna smiled wryly. “Ah, yes, the designer’s favorite pastime. You can always know a good designer by how well they pack.” Her smirk widened playfully. “Or should I say how much?”
“In either case, I feel like I’m cheating.” Hammer Strike chuckled as more was placed into his coat.
“Do you still have to carry the weight?”
“No. I choose to, however.”
“Then you are already paying for it. No need to feel guilty at all, darling. Glad we got that settled,” the mare said in that familiar pushy way that reminded the stallion only too well of the old days.
“Once we start packing everything topside, our cover is over with. Ready to face the crowds?”
Edna chuckled and flashed a smile. “Darling, it’s me we’re talking about. I’m always ready.”
“So, this is it, huh?” Vital Spark asked as he looked over Edna’s lab. “The last straw before all Tartarus breaks loose?”
“Darling, has anyone ever told you you have a flare for the obvious?” Edna asked.
Vital Spark smirked. “A few times. ’Tis part of me charm, dontcha know.”
Edna’s head whipped back at the Pony to gaze more intently at the stallion. “Where did you say you come from again?”
Vital shrugged. “I didn’t.”
Edna hummed and pursed her lips. “Perhaps you and I will need to chat about that, then,” she mused. “After we finish here, of course.”
“Speaking of finishing, has everyone finished packing their goods to go? We don’t need any hostage situations,” Avalon noted.
“I sent Aria ahead to the ship. She should be waiting for us,” Vital Spark promised.
“You know I have everything,” Day Moon chimed in.
“And the boys are ready to play with the nobility,” Avalon added as she casually placed her focus around her neck. “I suppose we should get started, then. Our would-be-jailers are probably feeling restless.”
“All right, darlings. I’ll get my equipment ready for transport. I’m relying on you to keep any of the others from interfering. Do try not to murder them. Blood stains are so very frustrating to get out.”
“I’m sure we can think of something if it comes down to it, E,” Vital promised as he removed his foci. “After all, we are very good at what we do.
Edna let out a single laugh, then began to charge her horn. “Let’s see just how much of artists you two really are, then.”
Back in the throne room, Hammer Strike and Grif both stood before the throne of Osiris as the ruler gazed upon them in utter disbelief alongside his guards, priests, and advisors.
“You wish to what?”
Hammer Strike frowned. “To repeat myself, I will be taking one of your prisoners, an Alicorn by the name of Edna.”
“Opening diplomatic relations is one thing, Hammer Strike, but you are taking a being who is at once national treasure and political prisoner, as well as a refugee. Do you really expect us to stand idly by and simply allow you to take her away from our care without proper compensation?”
“The compensation you will receive is my lack of response to your attempts at altering my augments,” Hammer Strike remarked threateningly. “By technicality, I believe that’s called attacking a foreign leader. All before you were able to establish diplomatic relations, too.” The light of his eyes began to brighten. “You do know what that means, right?”
“This is the first I’ve heard of such interference,” the king said smoothly. “But if you speak true—”
“I’d recommend you just come clean. It gives you a better chance at survival,” Hammer Strike said flatly.
“You will destroy a way of life that has lasted for millennia if you remove her so violently. At the very least, allow my people—”
Again, Hammer Strike didn’t allow the king to finish. “You fail to understand. You were the ones who put yourselves in this position, relying on a prisoner to keep yourselves up and running.” He sighed. “For ones who pride themselves on gathering knowledge, you seem to miss important details. You had plenty of years to plan for this course of events, but you did nothing.”
“This cannot stand!” one of the priests declaimed. “The Alicorn is our divine charge. To put her out into the world unsupervised would be to invite a complete overthrow of the balance of power in the world, and thus the balance of life and death. Our goddess would never allow this!”
“And why wouldn’t she?” Grif asked
“I already explained why, Avatar. Any change in the balance of power between the nations as it now stands will invite war, out of fear if not out of the desire to claim what they consider a prize for themselves.”
“You speak of the balance of power?” Grif laughed. “You’re a bunch of hypocrites, then.” He snapped his fingers and Kel’leam rose from the floor in a bright light and full battle dress. “You do not decide for the gods what they will and will not tolerate. While your kin suffered, you hid yourselves away, building a kingdom on the power of others, both your kin’s ancestors and the fallen enemy.” He shifted his harsh gaze on the king's entourage, then rested that glare on Osiris himself. “Who am I?” he demanded.
The king was silent.
“Answer the question,” Kel’leam demanded as he pointed his spear at the king. His body still glowed with the aura of his summoning.
“You dare—?” one of the advisers demanded.
“I do what I like. I already died once. I don’t fear death. I know her. And I know she will not be pleased with what you have done this day. Will you continue to obstruct her representative or will you answer the question as he demands? It is that simple.”
While the priest seemed to fall into red-faced apoplexy, the king raised a staying wing. “Enough.” He bowed his head in deference to Grif. “The point is well made, Avatar. What is the will of the goddess?”
“That the world be put to rights,” Grif said. “The Alicorn named E has served as your prisoner for longer than the war was fought. More than twice its length, in fact. She has expressed the desire to leave, and her time has been served. She will not carry the sin of her race, and you will not hold her on those grounds. As for her refugee status, I would argue she is safer in New Unity than anywhere else on Equis. If you are so offended by her freedom, then I am sure Hammer Strike and Equestria will gladly pay a ransom.” Grif looked to Hammer Strike with a nod.
“Or, you know, there is the other way, but that’s messier and would mean seeing your goddess a lot sooner than planned,” Kel’leam noted casually.
Osiris looked with careful calculation between Hammer Strike, Grif, and Kel’leam. Finally, he rose to his paws. “Very well,” he conceded. “It is obvious nothing can be gained or said at this time more than has already been exchanged.” He cast a silencing glare back at the other Sphinxes. “As ever, Hammer Strike, you are the victor, and we acknowledge your solution and wit.”
“Then I’ll see to that transfer. Immediately.” Hammer Strike gave a small grin as he turned to exit the throne room. “Oh, and, I’d suggest you keep your guard in line. If you want to keep them, that is.”
“Your people are big on riddles, so I’ll leave you with one to ponder.” Grif smirked as he turned. “Why is a raven like a writing desk?” And then he left with Kel’leam trailing behind him.
“You certainly do have a flair for the dramatic, don’t you, Hammer Strike?” Edna asked as she peered at the Gryphon and Earth Pony both intently on the air ship’s deck.
Vital Spark chuckled. “You have no idea what these two get up to.”
“And I hope you don’t know either, Vital Spark,” Avalon said coolly. “There are some things that should remain private, you know.”
Vital Spark sighed. “Story of my life. Open mouth, insert hoof.”
“In any case,” Hammer Strike spoke up, “are we missing anything else of your equipment, Edna?”
“No, darling. I made sure to take everything, and I have taken the precaution of adding protections against any measures you may take with the rest of the city. One can only assume that is what you had in mind, all things considered.”
“Good. Now, where are those followers of yours?”
“Waiting for the appropriate signal. I assumed you wanted to wait until after you had clipped my keepers’ wings.”
“You’re pretty much in the clear. They’re too terrified to make an obvious move, and the subtle ones aren’t going to work as soon as we start to leave.”
Edna’s horn lit up as she set off a tiny ball of light. It streaked for a short distance in the air, and the moment it started to fade, wing beats could be heard as a little over a dozen Sphinxes became visible in the air flying toward them.
“And … I’m glad I got the larger airship,” Hammer Strike muttered to himself.
“If you can call it an airship, darling,” Edna said.
“Primitive tech. Yeah, I get it.” Hammer Strike looked to Edna. “I’ve got plans for that, but the supplies are the hard part. Let’s get moving. I still need to pick up that whiskey for Clover.”
It didn’t take long to move Edna's followers below deck.
“So, we should probably go while the getting’s good,” Grif said.
“Not so fast, darling. There is still one little matter that Hammer Strike needs to address before we depart,” Edna said.
“Vega, close the door for us, would you?” Hammer Strike gave a small smile.
“Certainly, Hammer Strike. Disabling all systems designated threat level Alpha through Gamma now.” There was a brief flickering in the sky overhead as the projection that was part magic and part technology dealt with the surge Vega’s spike had caused throughout the city. Yowls of surprise mingled with roars of outrage and howls of despair that arose from the city en masse, both the towering structures above and the original structures at the base. “I’ve taken the liberty of including a lock to ensure access to any manuals and administrator or super user privileges is impossible without prior authorization from you, Hammer Strike. However, I would advise vacating the premises as quickly as possible. While it is doubtful the whole city would dare to go against you, there may be some foolish enough to attack on irrational impulses.”
“That’s the plan.”
“Want me to give you a little push?” Avalon offered.
“Nah, we’ll be fine.” Hammer Strike shook his head as he started their departure.
“An end of an adventure and the beginning of a new one.” Vital chuckled. “Dare I ask what zany crazy shenanigans the world is going to throw at us next?”
“Didn’t Clover teach you to be careful?” Grif asked.
“Yes. Hence why I posed the question and nothing else.” The familiar cry of a certain cryophoenix carried on the wind as Aria came in for a landing and promptly began to peck Vital Spark on the head. He winced. “And it appears that even the question is enough to draw ire from the closest of places….”
Avalon laughed. “I think if Vital Spark ever failed to invite these kinds of incidents that the world would come to an end.”
“Maybe.” Grif shrugged. “But he still needs to learn.”
Extended Holiday Chapter 184: It’s All in the Planning
As the familiar green landscape finally gave way to civilization, the travelers gazed upon the township of Ponyville and the great city beyond. A well-travelled road wound its way like a ribbon tying the two settlements irrevocably together. It truly was a picturesque sight, and the ideal balm for the homesick and travel weary.
Edna smiled. “Remote, natural, no signs of any technological corruption, and an overabundance of natural resources. Yes, this will do nicely.”
Hammer Strike smiled.“It’s certainly been good so far. Oh, I also have a small temporary request. Would it be possible for you to cast an illusion over yourself? New Alicorns here cause some … interesting reactions. Given they were ascensions, I don’t know how the response will be for a third natural born. I’ll call Celestia and Luna over whenever you’re ready to see them, of course.”
“Ascensions, you say?” she asked curiously. “And there are two such Ponies at your capitol? How intriguing. And when will I be able to meet these Ponies?”
“As soon as we land. But, about that illusion?” Hammer Strike raised a brow.
Edna rolled her eyes. “Yes, yes, darling. I’m not that old yet.” A glow passed over her horn and dissipated just as quickly, leaving behind a simple Earth Pony with a cutie mark shaped exactly like a familiar cigarette holder.
“I mean, a Unicorn would have worked fine as well.”
Edna shrugged. “This feels more practical. I evade notice and get to make a proper name for myself in the meantime. Trust me, darling, I’ve done this before.”
He shrugged. “Fair enough. In any case, starting the landing procedure.”
The ship eased gently into the expansion he’d built. The mooring lines were thrown, and a number of Gryphons and Pegasi flew from the dock by the Ganthrithor to tie them off. A squad of soldiers garbed in the latest of Hammer Strike’s designs and bearing a number of pennons saluted their king while Blast and Tower Shield stood at the front with a beaming Pensword beside them.
“I miss anything important?” Hammer Strike questioned Tower and Blast.
“Nothing, Sir,” Tower said.
“It’s been quiet,” Blast added
“Fair enough. Well, once the cargo has been completely cleared, we need to send this thing to be scrapped. Completely. So either Clover or myself will deal with that.”
“Any special orders regarding the cargo?” Tower asked.
“Any concerns or questions are to be directed to—” he pointed towards Edna “—her. It’s mostly hers. Whatever isn’t is being carried by their respective passenger. Also, be aware of the Sphinxes onboard.”
“Should we assign them an escort?” Blast asked
“Show them around, yeah. We’ll figure out a space for them before the day is over.”
“And mind the equipment, darling. It’s sensitive,” Edna noted. “Light, but sensitive.” She motioned with a hoof. “Come, come, come, come. We can’t have you standing there gawking all day. You are guards, yes? Then do your duty and help me get these into the castle. You can stand around being pretty and formal after we finish securing my lab.”
With a shrug, Blast and Tower signalled their troops to move.
Pensword’s eye twitched as he watched Edna lead the troops into the ship’s holds. “Why does everyone treat guards like bellhops?” he muttered as he watched the receding E’s familiar black bowl-style cut mane.
Vital Spark chuckled as he strode down the gangplank to meet his friend. “Probably because in most of Equestria, that’s basically what they are. Granted, in this case, there’s a little more to it than meets the eye.” He smiled and embraced his friend in a hug. “Hello, Pensword. It’s good to see you again.”
“Figures.” Pensword couldn’t help but smile. “It’s Good to see you, too, Vital Spark. Been boring around here without you all. Nothing’s attacked or bothered us for days. We haven’t even had a cragadile sighting.” He gave a heavy sigh. “It was … bizarre.”
“Aren’t your hooves full enough anyway with trying to become the Commander again?”
“Yes, but I’ve gotten organized enough that it doesn’t take up my entire day.” He sputtered angrily. “Still, the hoops the Solar courts are putting me through. I wanted something to attack, so I could get a break from letters from the undersecretary of the war records department, history division, and more that’d make your head spin. Half of the job titles I read in my appeals feel made up. Turns out they’re all real, just usually left unfilled. I’m still waiting for the letter response from Luna and Celestia about if any of the other candidates are getting this hoop show.”
“Well, at the very least, you’re getting an in-depth look at the workings of the bureaucracy as a whole. By the time you finish, whatever the outcome, you’ll probably be able to turn just about every tool they have in their bureaucratic arsenal against them,” Vital said consolingly.
Pensword chuckled. “Oh … I think I’m going to ask Clover if you can help me on one issue.” His ears curved to give the impression of horns as he sneered wickedly. “You see, this bureaucratic machine is trying to grind me in a catch twenty-two. I have all my records, and that’s great. I can move to the next step, but there's one small underling that’s continuing to give me grief because there’s no birth certificate attached to my records.”
“You do realize that I’m no lawyer, right?”
Pensword’s smile grew strained. “I’m trying to find one, but I need to gather character witnesses from my civilian life who know me. They accepted my military witnesses, but I need at least five character witnesses beside my wives.”
“Well, I can certainly do my best to try. My primary understanding of your character lies in my interactions with you before certain events that brought me to Equestria, though. Have you considered asking Grif and Hammer Strike as well?”
Pensword took a scroll from a pouch at his side and unrolled it to a particular passage. “‘By law, the witness should be from your current area of residence who has known you for a year or more.’ You fit that rather well.” He put the scroll back. “As for your other comment, Grif and Hammer Strike could be poisoned wells due to bias and the fact they served with me during the war. Hammer Strike just became High King, so that could be considered favoritism and nepotism on his part as well. And Grif has annoyed and angered the Solar Court more times than I can count. He’s called a traitor by his people, and that could call his own character into question. And the way he’s constantly called them out or insulted their sense of honor only gives them more reason to flag him. As you know, everyone from my village is dead.” He sighed.
“I think I get the picture, Pensword,” Vital Spark said. “I’ll see what I can do.” He smirked. “You know how I have a way with words. Though if you’re looking for other witnesses, maybe you can try asking Mutatio and Me-Me. You helped them to adjust to being independent and to integrate into society here in Ponyville and New Unity, after all.”
“Yeah, and have them face the elitism and racism of Canterlot? That could literally poison their stomachs with those kinds of emotions. I’m not risking that.”
“I doubt it’d go that far, but I get what you mean. It was hard enough for them to stomach the idea of Luna accepting them so openly at the Gala.”
“And now you see my dilemma.” He smirked. “But I think the personal student of Clover the Clever vouching for a good friend might worry them. Going after you goes after Clover, which would be an attack on Star Swirl, whom they all respect highly.”
Vital smirked. “Pensword, you’re a devious colt, and I love it.”
Pensword chuckled. “Part of the job description. You can’t be a commander without strategy. Add that to Chivalry’s, and now I have two.” He gave a wack to Vital’s ear. “Now go see your wife already. Clover is going to be busy tonight.”
Vital chuckled. “I think we’ll both be tied up with our spouses.” He smiled and nodded. “I’ll see you around, Pensword.”
“Drab, cold, dark, out of sight, and filled with limitless potential.” Edna grinned as she took in the stonework of the old storage room. “You know me so well, Hammer Strike.” Then she turned to face one of the walls. “I need more space, though. That wall will simply have to go. How else do you expect me to build a proper lab without space?”
“Well, I figured we could honestly just attach it to a small sub dimension, which would give you plenty of space while maintaining the visual on the outside of a much smaller location. Clover actually used it for her study,” Hammer Strike explained. “It’s near my forge as well, so resources are close.”
“It’s a simple enough group of spells, not unlike the traveling bags people sell these days,” Clover noted.
“Those take some rather precise calculations to obtain proper cohesion. One wonders where you might have gained that kind of understanding of dimensional mechanics,” Edna mused. “From a certain young stallion in a blue box, perhaps?”
“Oh! You know him? Well that's a start, but the blue box is a more contained scientific venture. It’s simply expressing science creatively. What I do is a lot less restricted, and thus easier to obtain.”
Edna gazed closely at the mare and rubbed her chin with a hoof. “Hmm. Yes, you’re definitely one of the bright ones. Then again, I suppose I shouldn’t expect less of the one who won Hammer Strike’s heart,” she said with a knowing smile.
“I mean, we more came together out of a lack of connection with the world than ‘winning his heart.’ Love is a much more involved process than simple figurative actions.”
Edna smirked. “Did I say otherwise, child?”
“Well, stealing his heart usually implies a much faster whirlwind kind of relationship. We were physical for a good fifty years before either of us thought about something like feelings.”
“I much prefer a romance with a proper foundation. The idea of simply whisking a person off their hooves is simply too unrealistic, unless of course you’re dealing with love magic, but that’s not a kind of magic just any Pony can come by.”
“One of the ascended Alicorns is actually tied to that field of magic, amusingly enough,” Hammer Strike added. “Cadance.”
“She’s not trying to be a goddess, is she?”
“No, not at all.”
“Good.” Edna shook her head. “There are enough gods who tried foisting emotions on other people. We don’t need another one. Now, you were saying about that spell, darling?” she asked Clover?
Clover summoned a tome to her and opened it, turning to the appropriate page. “As you can see by my notes, I can increase the internal space of the room up to seven thousand percent without needing to increase the external space.”
“A genius innovation. Those blockheads in the empire never even dreamed of this from a magical standpoint. Too much focus on the technology, not enough on where they came from.” She tsked and shook her head. “Some children just don’t have the imagination to see past the numbers.”
“Sounds like my teacher.” Clover chuckled.
“Stubborn? Stick up their flank? Always their way and no other options?”
“That about sums him up, yeah,” Hammer Strike said. “We … didn’t part on the best of terms, to put it lightly.”
“So, what I'll need to do this is the location of anything that feeds into this room,” Clover noted. “Such as pipes and whatnot.”
“Good thing I got a look at the blueprints after you all had the castle built in the first place.” Hammer Strike smirked, then tapped the side of his head. “Got it all up here.”
“Well then, I can get started as soon as I’ve got them memorized.”
Hammer Strike walked to each of the portions of the wall and stuck his hoof against the stones. Blue fire flared briefly from them to change the parts of the stone, thus marking the location of each of the aspects that Clover would need to be wary of. “That ought to do it. Do you need the direction they’re all running through the walls as well?”
“I shouldn’t. It’s simply so we know where they are after the expansion. That’s not something I can directly control when I'm doing this.”
“Then by all means, let’s get this expansion underway, darling. When I finish setting up, I think you and I are going to have to have a little chat,” Edna said.
“I look forward to it!” Clover ignited her horn, and slowly her magic began to outline the entire space.
“I take it you haven’t had any other troubles with your augments since we parted last?” Edna asked of the stallion as she watched the mare weave her spell.
“Thankfully, no malfunctions, but the medical cube has removed a number of them, as they just stopped working.” Hammer Strike shrugged.
“So long as you don’t, I think we can live with that,” Edna said seriously. “I don’t know why, but it’s clear that you are tied to the fate of this world, Hammer Strike. And that both intrigues and concerns me.”
“It makes it all the more interesting when you think of my origin,” Hammer Strike muttered. “It is strange, though.”
“Was there something unusual about your birth, then? Some celestial event or a god meddling?”
“It’s … a lot stranger than standard, but given what we’ve seen, nothing too insane,” Hammer Strike reached into his coat and pulled out a familiar golden bracelet.
“An enchanted artifact,” Edna mused as she peered at the gem. “With the spell matrix contained in the stone itself to keep the natural flow of energies and avoid degradation. A bit crude, but clever in its own right. What is the purpose of the spell?”
“Also, to note this beforehand, don’t worry. Everything is fine with the augments. I’ve learned that from my trip in Hell,” Hammer Strike noted as he placed it on his wrist and twisted the gem.
“What do you mean you went to—?”
After a brief flash of light, the former Pony stood in his human form once more. He looked down to his hands for a moment to adjust to the motions again, then blinked his eyes as they flashed with that same artificial light he had in his Pony form. He nodded his satisfaction, then chuckled and shook his head. “It’s honestly strange to go back to this after being a Pony for more than my life as this.”
“Bipedal, digits and nails with grasping capability, and little to no fur to speak of,” Edna noted as she took in Hammer Strike’s form. “The closest creature I can think of for you would be either the Auizoatl or the Gargoyle. Though I suppose the Abyssnians would come close enough, too,” she mused. “What do you call this species?”
“A human. I ended up here a few years back or so, from this current point in time. And given I couldn’t survive without magic, I ended up staying here. After being given the disguise, of course, which pretty much turned into … my normal form.”
“And where did you come from?”
“A different dimension. The gate may have been closed, but there are remnants of passageways used by certain creatures. I, alongside two others, may have stumbled across them. Of course, that was some time ago, and I was able to return briefly for personal reasons and to collect a tablet to track the Alicorn Empire down,” he explained before turning back into his Pony form.
“They sent a tablet to another dimension?”
“It was some sort of last measure. Probably an Alicorn attempting to escape the fall and didn’t make it far enough.”
“Curious. Very curious,” Edna said as the walls pushed outward and the space became dramatically larger in width, length, and height. “And were these two others among the friends you brought with you to find me?”
“One of them, but I’m going to refrain from saying more, as I will leave it up to them whether they want to tell you.”
“Fair enough, darling. Fair enough.”
“I’m just about finished,” Clover called, now dramatically farther away from them.
“She really does love magic, doesn’t she?” Edna noted. “She’s literally glowing right now.”
“Well, over a thousand years of study has to account for something.” Hammer Strike smiled.
“Indeed, it does.” Edna smirked. “I’m looking forward to seeing what you and she will create together.”
Finally, the energy faded as Clover finished her spell, leaving the room many times its original size.
Edna smiled approvingly. “Now this is something I can work with.”
Hammer Strike glanced at Edna. “Indeed. We can of course talk more about extra security measures when the time comes, but this should be enough for you to establish the start of your workspace.”
“Darling, you saw what I was able to do in my other lab. With enough resources, I can turn this room into a natural fortress.”
“That’ll do, then. Though, do be warned of young curious children.”
“Infiltrators, spies, or chaos nexus?”
“All of the above.”
Edna rubbed her wings together and grinned. “I always enjoy a challenge.”
“There is also a group of fillies from the nearby town who will do anything to get themselves a cutie mark,” Clover warned
“And they’re allowed in the castle?”
“Yeah, … allow doesn’t always work for them. They usually end up breaking the rules or otherwise getting into trouble that leads to very … sticky situations.”
“Hmm. I suppose I’ll have to have a chat with them at some point, then,” Edna mused. “After I get properly settled.”
“Just be careful. Tree sap follows after them.”
Edna raised a brow. “Is that so?”
“Yes. I'm still finding patches of it all over the castle.”
Edna smirked. “Like I said, darling, I always enjoy a challenge. Speaking of which, I have a spell you might be interested in seeing. It is a cousin of what you’ve created here, only to shrink instead of expand. You might find it useful in future if you have to make a swift escape.”
“A spell for reducing the internal size of an object?” Clover asked. “I never considered the implications of that.”
“Better yet, it alters the weight with the mass. As I said, very useful in a pinch, or for big moves. I have a feeling you and I have much to teach one another, Clover. And I look forward to every moment of it.”
The flight back to the storehouse was beautiful and scenic as always as the two Gryphon lovers soared around one another and otherwise flirted.
“Well, I’d say reintegrating the Sphinxes is going to be about as annoying and difficult as reforming the empire is going to be,” Avalon said.
“Yup,” Grif said. “But it will be worth our time.”
“And I suppose we do have a lot of it left.” Avalon smirked. “Especially once the rest of the Winds come back.”
“You knew what you were getting into when you married me,” he smirked back.
“Do I look like I’m complaining?” The two continued to smile as they approached the familiar edifice of their home. Then the door came open, and their ears were pierced by a great avian shriek of a scream.
Grif was through the door in a breath of a second as he hurtled towards the scream in a panic.
Shrial stood before Gilda with wings splayed to obscure the Gryphoness as she stared her husband down. “Good. You’re home. Get the cubs somewhere they can stay occupied and get the delivery team at the compound as fast as you can. Break the sound barrier. Tartarus, break the light barrier if you have to. We need those midwives now.”
“Grif, what’s going—?” Avalon took one look at Shrial as she passed into the room and knew what must be happening. She gathered the twins and Tazeer together and began herding them out the door. “I’ll take care of them. You go.”
Grif sped off toward the midwives, scooping them up from the compound one by one and depositing them in his home without even taking the time to explain. Lastly, he found Kalima. And while he was gentler in ferrying the aged Gryphoness, the haste and wild look in his eyes was enough to inform her exactly what was going on. It took him less than five minutes before he was pacing in the room where he and Avalon were watching the cubs.
“She’s going to be all right, Grif,” Avalon assured him gently as she waved a toy for the twins to pounce after and try to catch. “She might scream and curse a little. It seems the warrior types have a tendency to do that. But she’ll turn out all right in the end. And I’m sure Shrial will make it a competition to push Gilda through.”
“Doesn’t mean I can't worry,” Grif said. “This is the biggest birthing we’ve had yet.”
And the first one you’ve been present for all the way through, or mostly through, anyway. Have you thought of names yet?”
“I mean, I need to check with Gilda first, but I was thinking Athos, Porthos, and Aramis.”
“They sound like a handful.” Avalon chuckled.
“They were three musketeers known for their cavalier ways and for monstrous fights, as well as for unquestionable loyalty.”
“A fitting choice, especially for the children of two great fighters.”
“Yes, but I want to see what Gilda thinks first.”
“You shouldn’t have to wait for too long. If those cubs are as feisty as the twins were, then they’ll come jumping right out of her.”
“Three more for the horde!” Grif laughed.
“Are you suggesting you plan to raise our children to be bandits, Grif?” Avalon asked playfully.
“No, just Orcs,” Grif returned.
Avalon cocked her head in confusion. “What are Orcs?”
“I’ll explain later,” he promised.
“Too focused on the birth or just worried it’ll take too long to tell before she’s ready?” Avalon asked.
“Yes,” Grif said.
After what felt like an eternity, the first baby’s cry sounded. Even as Grif rose, Avalon placed a staying hand on his shoulder. “Not yet.”
Grif looked on as his wings twitched nervously.
“There’s still a way to go. Two more, and then the afterbirth.” Avalon looked pityingly on her husband. “Perhaps you can tell one of your stories to the cubs to help pass the time and take your mind off things,” she suggested.
“Why do you always have to be the wise one?” he asked, leaning in to kiss her.
“Because I know my husband, and the East Wind’s child blessed me.” She smiled and kissed him back. “So, what will it be?”
He turned to his son and daughters and smiled. “Well now, let's see…. How about the tale of Snow White and the Seven Dwarves?”
“Dwarves, you say? Are they anything like our friends under New Unity?”
“They’re short, but no. These dwarves were different in many ways,” Grif said. “But our story starts a long time before the dwarves come into things. It starts with Snow White’s mother as she walked through her garden on a winter's day….”
The ring of hammer on steel echoed and reverberated as carefully targeted blows smashed ores together with little effort. Dross gaped at her mentor as the metal seemingly flowed under his guidance to take on the shape of a proper breastplate.
The young apprentice frowned as she eyed the stallion’s technique. “Um, … not to sound critical, Hammer Strike, but … why are you crafting more armor? I thought that was supposed to be my assignment.”
“This is for the captains of my guard, Blast and Tower. I figured a personal touch would be more appropriate.”
Drost cocked her head in confusion. “Didn’t you already do that for them though with their current set?”
“As I’m sure you’ve gathered, I have some new tricks to apply. That, and different materials.”
“So this is going to be another custom piece, then? A Hammer Strike original?”
“Basically,” Hammer Strike chuckled.
“Is this model going to eventually be mass produced for the rest of Equestrian Armed Forces, then?”
“There might be a few missing pieces from those, such as personal touches in regards to the individuals.”
Dross nodded. “That’s fair.”
At that moment, the temperature in the forge increased briefly as a flash of light heralded the arrival of a lightly singed piece of parchment rolled up into a scroll. Dross caught it and gaped at the seal. “It looks like a letter from the princess,” she said in awe.
“Let’s see it,” Hammer Strike sighed.
The letter pulled open easily in Hammer Strike’s hooves to reveal the now-familiar script that was characteristic of Celestia.
Hammer Strike,
Now that you’ve taken the crown in Equestria, I realize we need to make plans with the committee at the Crystal Empire for the Equestria Games. Please advise when available for colab and organization.
~ Celestia
Hammer Strike blinked a few times after reading the message before letting out a hum. “I had actually forgotten about that.”
“About what?” Dross asked.
“The Equestria Games, which will require my attention, more so than originally planned.”
“Do you need to get going? I can clean up and put your tools away if you like.”
“I probably should.” He hummed in thought. After a moment, he sighed and opened a rift at his side. “Please do. I’m going to settle this now while I have the time.”
Dross nodded. “Right away, Sir!” she said eagerly, then grunted as she hefted one of said tools, barely managing to lift it off the anvil. “This … may take a little longer than I thought.”
“If you can’t lift it, don’t worry about it. I’ll get it when I’m back.”
“No, no, I’m good. I can handle it,” Dross insisted. “You go on to your meeting. Don’t want to keep the princess waiting!” she said cheerfully.
Hammer Strike shrugged before moving through the rift.
The sight that graced him when he stepped through was one that immediately put a smile on Celestia’s face as the crowd gaped at Hammer Strike. Some were too stymied to acknowledge the arrival of their new king. Others may have had less reasonable excuses for their behavior. Eventually, the long line of petitioners bowed, following the example of the monocled stallion who stood at the front.
“Well, that explains the letter, though at the same time, does not.” Hammer Strike glanced to Celestia for a brief moment before turning to Fancy Pants. “Let’s do a quick alteration of things. What’s your petition, Fancy Pants?”
“I, um … I was about to ask for some papers to authorize my brother in law to come for a visit and possibly ply his trade. Fleur hasn’t seen him in years, and she always talks about the fond memories they had as children.”
Hammer Strike reached into his coat and pulled out a scroll. “Granted,” he replied, passing the scroll over. “The rest of you will have to wait. Court will be taking a short break to discuss important information.”
A low murmur flooded over the crowd as Celestia rose from her throne to gaze at her foster father. “I admit I wasn’t expecting you to come in person like this. At least not so soon. I didn’t pull you away from anything important, did I?”
“I was just working on a small side project, so nothing too important.”
The pair strode through a set of doors behind the curtain and into a small hall till they arrived in a cushioned chamber with a tea set and cake tray waiting. “Please, take a seat,” Celestia offered. “Would you like some tea?”
“Sure. I suppose this meeting will be longer than anticipated, due to some additional news.”
“Not so much news as an epiphany,” Celestia noted as she poured. “Cream? Sugar?”
“I’m good. Though, I do have additional news to share with you and your sister when both of you are next available, of course.”
Celestia nodded and levitated the saucer and cup to Hammer Strike. “Did you want me to pass that along to Luna after we finish here?”
“It would be for the best. Perhaps we could have the both of you come to New Unity when you are both free. But for now, we have something to discuss. As I did not run an ‘Equestria Games,’ I’ll just need a quick rundown of everything to commit to memory.”
“Most of the planning and events are already taken care of. The primary area of concern lies in your responsibility to oversee the events as the current ruler of Equestria and of the Crystal Empire in its capacity as a protectorate. Thrones, guards, security, reviewing said security to ensure it meets your standards, rather than ours, that sort of thing.”
“How long away is this event?”
“A matter of a few weeks at this point.”
“Then I should be able to set everything up for security. As for the thrones, I can probably make some at the Crystal Empire, so that should be fine.”
“And did you plan on being the master of ceremonies or will you be leaving that responsibility with Cadance?”
“I have to leave some things to you all.” Hammer Strike chuckled.
Celestia smiled. “I thought you might say that, but it’s always best to check. That’s one lesson you taught us that I haven’t forgotten over the years.”
“Good, good. If that’s all the information I need on the games, then I should be able to manage that within my schedule. Beyond that, the additional news I had, I’ll share with you both on your next visit.”
“That may have to be after the games finish. I doubt Luna and I will have any openings until then. That being said, if you do need to consult on anything else, don’t hesitate to contact either of us or Cadance. She wants to make sure everything goes off well.”
“Will do.”
Celestia smiled. “I do have one more question before you go, though,” Celestia noted.
“Oh?”
“Just what exactly was on that scroll you gave Fancy Pants?”
“Oh, that. It’s basically a generalized ‘I accepted this request, signed Hammer Strike.’ I know Fancy Pants well enough to not worry about his requests being dangerous.”
Celestia smirked. “Even if it involves Fleur’s side of the family?”
“Worst case scenario, he’s a merc, given Fleur’s history. I’ve hired more mercenaries than most of the nobles in this era combined.”
“If anything, it’s going to be incredibly fun to see what happens. I love it when the nobles get shaken up.”
Hammer Strike chuckled. “Easiest thing I’ll do all day.”
Spike was always a Dragon of fine tastes. He enjoyed delicious gems and other foods alike, loved a good comic book, and had a great passion for Ogres and Oubliettes, … among other more personal treasures. And like all connoisseurs of quality literature, he made a regular habit to stop by the local comic shop in search of new issues to enjoy. After getting sucked into a parallel magical reality, Twilight made sure he wouldn’t purchase those kinds of books again without proper supervision.
The scent of fresh ink wafted into his nostrils, and he sighed contentedly as he saluted the store’s owner and made for the latest additions segment. After his experiences as Hum Drum, he knew better than to look after more Power Ponies. However, a new darker and grittier hero called the Drake Knight had drawn his attention, using tools, wit, and Draconic power and skills to outsmart the criminals of a corrupt city and ultimately save the day.
“Now that’s my kind of hero,” Spike said as he reached for one of the books, only for a familiar rumbling to gurgle in his gut. He quickly backed out of the shelves and ran toward the door, just to be safe, but couldn’t quite make it in time. A loud burp escaped his maw as green flame shot forth to reveal a scroll with the familiar royal seal of Princess Celestia. “Well, that’s weird,” he thought aloud. “I usually only get these when I’m with Twilight.”
A small white square jutted out from the ribbon beneath the seal, inked with large letters that read To Spike. Spike frowned. “For me?”
“Uh, Sir, are you going to have to breathe fire like that again?” the cashier asked nervously.
Spike shook his head. “Nah. Celestia usually only sends one of these at a time. We’re good.” He flicked open the seal and unfurled the parchment.
To Spike the Brave and Glorious,
Hail and well met, young hero. This letter is written at the behest of Princess Cadance and the denizens of the Crystal Empire. Since the Equestrian Games are so close, and because you have performed such a valuable service, she has requested that you do the honor of lighting the torch in the opening ceremonies to begin proceedings. We know that you will do an excellent job. However, we would like confirmation that you are willing to perform this task, so that we may properly organize the event and give you the clearances necessary to pass security measures. Please forward your response as soon as you are able. We look forward to seeing you soon at the games regardless.
Wishing you all the best,
H.R.H. Princess Celestia
Spike’s eyes widened to the size of saucers as he read over the words again and again. Finally, he swallowed his surprise and blinked his eyes back to normal. “I, uh, … wow.” A goofy smile crossed his face as the value of the honor washed over him like a warm lava bath. “I’ve gotta find Twilight! This is so awesome!”
He raced out the door, his comics forgotten for the moment. It was time to share the good news with his friends, and he knew just where to start.
Vital Spark knocked heavily on the familiar door and waited for the usual signal as he stood out in the hallway. He had little doubts that his mistress had many other things to occupy her mind and time in the earlier morning, so he chose to wait instead for the evening when classes were dismissed and he and his learned mentor could hold a proper discussion.
“Come in!” Clover called
The familiar scene of the roaring fire came into view, and the colt took his place in the free chair as his mentor sipped a concoction from a wooden tankard. “I finished that assignment you asked me to take care of.” He summoned a scroll from thin air and passed it over to her. “Our hunch was right. They had a copy of most of the volumes you listed, and the names of the Ponies you asked me to look for were all there and intact. They looked like original notes and manuscripts. Either the Sphinxes worked with Star Swirl to keep the information or they managed to trick him into thinking the documents were destroyed when they intercepted the drafts instead.”
“That's comforting,” Clover said. “It means I'll be able to correct some wrongs in the future.”
Vital Spark frowned. “This is going to upset a lot of Ponies when the truth gets out. Star Swirl was supposed to be the ideal embodiment of sorcery. I can only imagine what other truths might come out of the woodwork if we can make use of those archives.”
“Star Swirl was the embodiment of his own ego,” Clover scoffed. “If I can bring even a handful of the stallions and mares he steamrolled back to the forefront, I’ll be happy.”
“I just … don’t understand, Clover.” Vital sighed as he stared into the fire. “Why do so many people push themselves that far? Why can’t they be content to acknowledge what others achieve instead of trying to steal it for their own? If they’re really that smart, shouldn’t they know better than to let their hubris and pride get the better of them like that? I know it’s hard to put aside sometimes, but … it’s just so … wrong.”
“It’s when we forget that we can be wrong that we stop asking questions,” Clover returned. “Ask Hammer strike to tell you about when we met. I was hardly different.”
“I thought you were more like Twilight. Only pushier and … sort of more demanding about learning?”
“I was certain of what I knew and that I could learn and understand everything,” Clover said. “It was naive.”
“And now?”
“I’ve learned some secrets are better left secrets,” Clover said. “There are things others know better than I do, and I should trust them to be able to use their knowledge.”
“Sounds reasonable,” Vital agreed. “Though, knowing you, you probably would try to at least understand enough to help if you can or need to. I’m guessing that’s something you learned from Hammer Strike.”
“Yes. He showed me something I can never unsee, that I could never truly understand.”
“He’s helped a lot of us to change for the better, hasn’t he?” Vital Spark smiled as he let the warmth of the flames wash over him and help sooth his muscles.
“Yes.” She nodded. “And he has taught me a lot of lessons.”
“Some of which I assume you’ll also be teaching me soon enough.” He chuckled. “It seems that’s always the case for us. We never really stop growing, do we? We just have to trust the next generation to keep things going after we’ve done what we can.”
“The day we stop learning, we die,” she confirmed.
Vital Spark smirked. “Is that why you always ‘motivated’ me with lightning?”
“It worked,” she laughed.
“And it’s an excellent way to get a fire burning.” He smiled. “Speaking of which, I believe you and I are due for another lesson in a certain mutual art we share. Did you want to take a little more time together before we begin?” he asked. “I notice you haven’t finished your tankard yet.”
“Sure,” Clover said. “I could use the break.”
Pensword’s eyes glowed with the night vision that was characteristic of his tribe as he gazed over the council members of their settlement. Clouds scudded overhead to obscure the moonlight, leaving the Thestrals to stare inquiringly at the stallion and the white colt who stood with him.
“Pensword,” the first of the leaders said by way of acknowledgement. “It is good to see you visiting with us again. For what reason have you asked this council to gather?”
“I do so at the behest of my son Day Moon. It is also for this intent that I have requested your presence, First Lieutenant Darkbane.”
The eyes of the council fixed on Day Moon intently. “And for what purpose have you sought to gather us, young Day Moon?”
Day Moon took a deep breath. “A few reasons.” He looked to his foster father, then back to the council. “I … suppose I should show you my first before we go any further. It will make the rest of what I have to say easier to believe.”
The colt closed his eyes, and as he focused, the room began to light up as the clouds parted overhead, allowing the moon’s rays to filter through the reflectors that had been built into the upper portions of the chamber before flowing over the room. The colt’s fur seemed to glow, and moments later, it began to grow. His fangs extended. His ear tufts became more prominent. And finally, what looked like the beginnings of claws protruded from the edges of his hooves. His eyes gazed calmly at the gathering, but these were not the gentle eyes of a youth, rather the eyes of a hunter.
The wolf representative rose in utter disbelief and gaped at the Pony. “Can it be?”
“You recognize what I am, then?” Day Moon asked. “Father said you would.”
“This is … most unusual.” The Thestral smacked down on his haunches as he continued to stare. “I never, … we thought….”
“Bonnie blessed me before I was born. She has a job for me to do, and I’m learning what it means to do it from Grif. I’d like to talk with some of the lore keepers in the Wolf Tribe when I can, though. The more knowledgeable, the better. I’ve learned a lot since this happened, but I still have a long way to go, and Father tells me you can help.”
“We have trained berserkers before, but the wildekin, … that’s little more than a legend to us now. You are the first we have seen since long before Hammer Strike united our tribes.”
“Hopefully, I won’t be the last,” Day Moon said as he reached toward his satchel. “Mister Darkbane, could you come here, please?”
Eclipse raised a brow as he walked over. “Got something for me to look at?”
“Actually, it’s for the princess. Bonnie told me I needed to get these to her to duplicate with her magic. Nopony else can do it, because it needs someone attuned to the moon, and well, that’s exactly what she is.” He pulled out five blue tomes, each engraved with a phase of the moon along their spines. The sixth remained in his satchel, giving its comforting warmth to hold him steady.
“All right,” Darkbane said slowly. “I … should be able to do that pretty quickly.” He took hold of the tomes. “Anything else of importance?”
“Just that we’ll need the originals back after she’s done. They’re textbooks for us. Dreamwalkers, seers,” he looked to Pensword gravely. “And the sight beyond.”
“Okay,” Eclipse hummed. “Might take me a bit, but I should be able to get it to her within a week. As for beyond that, I don’t know how long it’ll take to get them back.”
Day Moon nodded. “The sooner we can, the better. Bonnie wants the students in Pensword’s class to be teachers for the next Thestrals with her blessings.”
“She … really spoke with you?” the fox representative asked.
Day Moon nodded. “She needed Hammer Strike to help her first, but now she can talk to me when she wants, since we’re worshipping her again. A monster hunter isn’t any good without their patron, so … I guess she just finds it easier to use me for now?” He shrugged. “I don’t know. I just did what she told me.” The fur and claws retracted as his teeth returned to their normal size. He blinked, and the eyes of a typical Thestral foal gazed back. “I think she wants to show up for everyone soon, but she’s not ready yet.”
The lion representative smiled. “You do your family and your tribe proud, young cub. I look forward to seeing what you become in time.”
Day Moon cocked his head. “I … thought I was supposed to be a monster hunter?”
A roaring laugh bellowed out the stallion’s lungs. “Indeed, little one. Indeed.”
Pensword bowed his head. “I thank the council for agreeing to this meeting. I have one other article of business that I wish to have addressed before I depart with my son.”
“Speak.”
Pensword produced a number of flyers and laid them before the members. “Lord Hammer Strike and First Officer Nightshade have both spoken how we need to participate more actively in assisting New Unity to prosper. For those who do not wish to join the guard, I have an alternative in the form of a venture that will soon be getting underway. We will be looking for good Ponies to serve in positions from bookkeeping to inventory management to packing and transferring materials. Those who are interested are asked to submit their resumes to me via the mail. You’ll find a list of the skills we are looking for included with these flyers. Questions will be answered during the course of interviews.”
“We will make sure that it is known,” the Dragon Tribe representative assured.
Pensword nodded. “I thank the council and Second-in-command Darkbane for your time. May Bonnie bless all of our efforts.”
Hammer Strike hummed as he thought over his list once more. There was still plenty to prepare for the upcoming games, and thankfully everyone who was going kept to a schedule to keep themselves in top performance. At the moment, he was overlooking their supplies to ensure everything was packed away for their trip.
“You said that the queen who rules over them is descended from the workers. And yet she managed to ascend and become an Alicorn in her own right.” Edna smiled. “I am looking forward to having a more personal discussion with her to discover this new magic.”
“She only knows so much about the creation of her kind, so perhaps it’s best not to rush into that conversation.” Hammer Strike chuckled as he glanced at Edna. “If anything, I’ll need to create a relay or something for you to talk with Vega as well to figure out how things came out the way they did.”
“Darling, technology is my specialty. What makes you think I don’t already have a device to do just that?”
“Because if that were the case, I figured you would have already used the system there to reach me before all of this,” Hammer Strike replied simply.
Edna chuckled. “Touché, Hammer Strike. Perhaps we can collaborate along the way.”
“I think there is one thing you might find interesting still up and running there. The Crystalline Fabrication System is still going, and it’s been stockpiling material.”
“How much material?”
“Don’t know for sure. Though, I do know it was stockpiling for at least four thousand years, up to ten, depending on some situations.”
“That is quite a lot of material.” Edna’s smile widened. “I can already imagine the applications, especially if the output of the firing mechanism has been energizing the minerals with every time they’ve fired it. The quality of those gems alone would be priceless in the magical community.”
“Actually, it’s been dispersing that for the most part. Too high of a concentration for anything other than that, or firing it. Since it lacks the pin to fire, you get the point. Some of it is converted, but the stockpile is so dense that it stopped collection of it at this point.” Hammer Strike hummed to himself. “Actually, that does bring an idea to mind to discuss with you later.”
“I’m looking forward to it, Darling. I do so love our little visits, and a collaboration is most definitely in order. I would love to see just what your style can create.”
“Well, there will still have to be some limiting factors, since we can’t progress the world too quickly or abruptly.”
“That makes it all the more fun.”
“We’ll have to discuss this more when we get there. For now, I need to ensure everything is prepared for departure.”
“Of course, darling. I’ll leave you to it.”
Grif was nearby giving the eepee he’d had made a final check. He placed it in its case and locked all sixteen locks before placing it in a locked chest that he labeled to be placed carefully. He’d prepared himself for this, and he was planning to take home the gold with no unfair advantages. He had six kids to make proud now, after all.
Back in the castle, Vital Spark and Trixie were both busy packing. The two debated medical materials, potions, kits, and other reagents while Aria looked on and whistled. The mare had become much more at home with her new nature and self in the short time she had spent in Nazarick. And as the two talked, Vital Spark couldn’t help but gush over the sights they would get the chance to see while they were there.
Lunar Fang and Fox Feather both concentrated on their responsibilities, working with troops to keep them in shape and addressing potential security scenarios to present to the teams on arrival at the empire. Day Moon sat on the floor looking over a large leatherbound volume as hidden words seemed to beam off the page and shine over his face. Inigo and Cristo both wrestled while Moon River watched, giggling and cheering the two on. Pensword was busy flitting back and forth as he worked to pack the necessary gear for their family while Fizzpot flitted nervously about the room to keep a close eye on the antics of the foals.
In Ponyville, each of the Mane Six were busy making their own preparations. Rainbow Dash and Fluttershy were practicing with Bulk Biceps, running through their courses and looking forward to the games with optimism. Rarity continued to work on her designs and occasionally would stop to pull Seamripper from its sheath and practice on one of her mannequins for what was to come. Applejack was a flurry of activity as she raced from cutting board to mixing bowls to pans to oven and back again to stack up on her best sports goods to feed her friends and give them the strength to really put up a fight in the Crystal Empire. Pinkie Pie was busy stuffing every last multi-colored accessory she could behind her back or into her mane in preparation for a cheer-fest and the celebratory party that would inevitably follow after. And back in the library, Twilight beamed as Spike jumped up and down in excitement for the honor that had been bestowed upon him. Their trunks were already packed, and all that remained was to allow the dragon to daydream in preparation for the big event. As the mare smiled, she couldn’t help but think how very proud she was of her baby brother.
Preston smiled as he tended his paperwork and prepared for the day’s activities. The whole of New Unity was abuzz with the thrill of the novelty that the Equestria games would bring to those who could attend. Honor, glory, valour, fame. These magical words held the power to sway the masses and turn them in all manner of delicious directions, and he was happy to be able to use those emotions to help foster positive change in their environment.
{Preston?} Me-Me’s voice filtered through the hivemind.
The Changeling immediately struck to attention. {My queen. How may I be of service today?}
{My child, I have deliberated the Equestria games for a while and have decided it would be wiser to send a representative than attend myself at this time.}
{And may I take it that it is I who is to receive this high honor? I can think of no other reason that you would touch my mind so directly.}
{That is correct, Preston. You shall attend and bring the hive’s best wishes with you.}
Preston bowed his head. {As my queen commands. As ever, it is my pleasure to serve.}
In the remnants of the castle library, Binding was busy sorting through shelves and searching for any volumes that might have survived. In the shadows behind him, a dark figure stirred and approached.
“Hello, Swift Wings.”
The mare groused at the Unicorn. “Must you always do that?”
“We’ve been friends for millennia. Do you really need me to answer that question?”
“Probably not. Though fortunately, this next thing I have to tell you is question free.” The Thestral gave a grim and foreboding smile. “I’ve been ordered to inform you that you are to pack your things.”
“What for? A mission?”
“Of a sort.” Swift Wings chuckled. “Hammer Strike wants you to take a break and get out of the castle. You’re going with him to see the games.”
Binding stared flatly for a time at the mare, then sighed. “I don’t have any choice in the matter, do I?”
“Nope.” She grinned. “And about time, too.”
Binding rolled his eyes. “All right. When are we to depart? I assume that I have a certain grace period in which to prepare for departure?”
“Tomorrow.”
“Of course, it is.” Binding sighed again. “Sometimes, I wonder why I even bother to check.”
“Because you’re our devious planner, and you hate to leave threads unaddressed.”
Binding couldn’t help but chuckle. “You know me so well.”
“Don’t worry, you won’t be alone. Grif needs me to tend to things while he competes, so you’ll have enough company to keep from getting lost.”
“You really are on a teasing streak today, aren’t you?”
Swift Wings shrugged. “There’s a reason we’re called silent but deadly.”
“Then I suppose I should get started.” With some regret, the powerful Unicorn pulled himself away from the shelves. “I’ll be seeing you soon, Swift Wings.”
“Indeed, you will.” She smiled and whispered, “Onward to the Equestria Games.”
“Say, Hammer Strike,” Vital Spark started as he gazed out the train window, “I’m curious, do you know how the magic in the crystal heart manages to keep the cold away from the empire? I mean, by all scientific reasoning, it should basically be a frozen wasteland up there.”
“It’s somewhat difficult to explain, but the best way to explain it would be that it’s thermal control inside a shield,” Hammer Strike replied.
“So, basically an artificial environment?”
“Basically.”
“Huh. The more you know.” He shrugged, then turned to his wife. “So, Trixie, are you ready to see an ancient civilization literally transplanted from the past?”
“Of course. Trixie is ready to wow a whole new crowd!”
“You know, she just might,” Fox Feather said with a smile. “I doubt there have been many illusionists in the city before.”
“It could make for some great half-time entertainment, too,” Pensword added.
Grif was running over forms and routines. Standing on top of the train, used to the cold, and protected from the wind and momentum, he felt no issue even as the landscape sped by around him.
Shrial folded her arms impatiently. “I just want to see these games get underway already. I can already imagine some of the events, and I can’t wait to see how the sparring matches unfold.”
“I’m actually sort of surprised you didn’t sign up for an event yourself, Shrial,” Vital Spark noted. “Isn't that sort of your thing?”
Shrial shrugged. “I can’t always take the glory.”
Fox Feather chuckled. “Modest as always.”
“Pride is very important to my culture, you know,” Shrial said with a smirk.
“Just be careful not to let it trip you up,” Yharon warned from his place in the car’s aisle. His tail curled lazily around his frame as he peered over the seats and blinked his four eyes.
“That’s what I have Grif for. We cut each other down and raise each other up.”
“How romantic.” Vital couldn’t help but smile. “Sounds familiar. Wouldn’t you say, Trixie?” he asked, then kissed her.
“Well, you do tend to be dense, sweetie,” Trixie said.
“Fortunately, not where it counts most.” He smiled and wiggled his eyebrows. “And I seem to recall a certain mare doing some pretty hairbrained things of her own before we met. Isn’t it great to know we’ve both grown since?”
“Yes,” Trixie said, nuzzling him. “It really is.”
“Ah, yes, young love, one of the most beautiful and delicate creations in all the worlds. Few, if any, manage to get the recipe just right. But it is not in conformity, but rather in the unique that true wonder is found.” Edna smirked. “It seems you all have been lucky in that field.”
Fox Feather chuckled. “Some of us took longer than others. Pensword took more than a thousand years before he finally got it through his head,” she teased.
“In my defense, you never dropped any hints,” Pensword shot back with a laugh of his own as he nuzzled the mare.
“A girl is supposed to play hard to get, isn’t she?” Fox Feather teased.
“Then why in Bonnie's name did you throw yourself at him?” Lunar fang teased Fox Feather.
“I was drunk.” She shrugged. “It got the job done, didn’t it?”
“Hmm. Say, Hammer Strike, a thought occurs to me. We got swarmed last time we were here and barely got away by the skin of our teeth with Cadence and Shining’s help. This time around, we have even more famous Ponies with us. Do you have a plan to avoid that this time?” Vital asked.
“I’ve got a few tricks I can use, don’t worry,” Hammer Strike replied simply.
“Including using all the other competitors as a cover?”
“Correct.”
“Well, this is going to be fun.” Vital chuckled.
“Hopefully,” Trixie added. “You never can tell with something this big.”
The train finally pulled up to the station, and the VIPs waited in their car as the other carts unloaded to flood the platform with contestants and a certain little purple Dragon helper.
Vital whistled. “That’s a lot more competitors than I expected.”
“With everything going on, it sparked competitors to action,” Hammer Strike commented.
“And the Crystal Pony guards that are clearly charging up to Spike?” Yharon questioned.
“They have some fascination with Spike.” Hammer Strike shrugged.
“Well, at least they’re carting him off in style,” Vital noted. “I … guess that makes him the sacrificial lamb in this case so the rest of us can get out and do our thing?”
“Then we shouldn’t waste the opportunity, should we?” Shrial asked as she rose. “You all coming? I’d like to see my husband to our quarters. And I’m guessing there are places you’d all like to visit, too.”
And so the royal car prepared to disembark and begin their journey in the first step of the Equestria Games.
“NYEH HEH HEH!” Parchment laughed victoriously as he walked out of the mine’s entrance and into the sunlight, where the crystals in his coat sparkled. His orange mane waved in the air as his eyes flashed with excitement. “I can’t believe our good luck, Cor! Hammer Strike himself came to relieve me of duty and even praise my dedication! Surely, a greater position in the guard will follow!”
Cor smiled and nodded, pumping her tiny foreleg in affirmation as she fixed a papier mache medal badge onto her adopted uncle’s chest.
“Why, Cor, is … is this for me?”
Cor nodded and beamed her smile again.
Parchment’s lips wobbled as tears welled up in his eyes. “It’s … it’s … perfect. I’ll treasure it every day I serve in the guard!” he bawled as he picked up the filly and hugged her close.
Cor just smiled and nuzzled her uncle, even as she struggled to breathe.
Back in the cave, Edna couldn’t help but smile and shake her head. “Incredible what a few millennia can do for a Pony’s evolution, isn’t it, Hammer Strike? I never would have expected so much to spring from something so artificial. You did well.”
“It took a while, but they really are alive after all this time.” Hammer Strike gave a small smile.
“So, what was it that you needed to show me here?” Edna asked.
“One moment.” Hammer Strike looked toward one of the nearby walls as his eyes flashed briefly. Shortly afterwards, the crystal split and dissolved as it revealed a chamber hidden beneath the empire.
“Hmm. You were able to gain this level of sophistication to make it appear as a natural formation. Very clever.”
“The crystal fabrication system is very interesting to work with, to say the least.” Hammer Strike gestured for her to enter.
“Ever the gentlecolt. It’s a wonder you don’t have half the kingdom clawing after you.” Edna smirked as she passed through the divide and entered the chamber. Unlike the exterior, this room was lit up in a rainbow of colors as crystal shards jutted. Hammer Strike tapped his hoof once, and the crystals that had jutted so threateningly at them retracted back into the walls to leave them perfectly smooth and reflective. “Huh. So that’s what that feels like.”
“Sorry. With the death of the Alicorns here, there have been some failsafes put in place,” Hammer Strike replied.
“I would be disappointed if you did anything less.”
“Vega, engage speakers within the ‘backrooms,’” Hammer Strike called out as he sealed the passage behind them.
“Of course, Hammer Strike. I hope the copy of myself you downloaded proved useful on your journey,” the AI responded.
“So, you are Vega.”
“And you are Edna Mode, an Alicorn with exceptionally high security clearance and one of the highest surveillance priorities in the empire. According to records, you were a prime candidate for recruitment to Project Gungnir, though your previous sentiments left the council hesitant to grant you full access. Some records indicate that you are as old as—”
“Vega, darling, even as an AI, you should know it’s never polite to talk about a mare’s age.”
“Is that meant to be a reference to a desire to keep your estimated age a secret?”
“Yes, darling, it is.”
“If Hammer Strike agrees, then I will update my parameters immediately and seal the pertinent files. However, he will be able to access them in the future, should he so choose as the bearer of the highest administrative access keys.”
“Yeah, go ahead and lock it down,” Hammer Strike replied.
The sound of crystal chimes resonated through the air. “And done. Is there anything else I can do to be of service to you today?”
“I am intrigued,” Edna said as she pondered the AI. “Would you be willing to share the information on your programmers? They must have been very skilled.”
“I was created based on a primary algorithm drafted and composed by Doctor Light as a practical joke. My original purpose was to function as a virus to infiltrate core systems in the empire and grant him complete control at any point he required it. When I was discovered embedded in the systems after my first field test, rather than delete me, my primary algorithm was repurposed, and Doctor Light was sanctioned by administrative staff. His response was less than flattering.”
Edna smirked. “That does sound like something he would do.”
“He was once a student of yours, was he not?”
Edna nodded. “One of many. Even among the other Alicorns, he was a special one. As I am certain Hammer Strike recalls.”
“He certainly was interesting, to say the least,” Hammer Strike chuckled.
From what I’ve seen of your friend Grif, the two of them would have gotten along very well.” She sighed. “It’s always hard to lose children you love, especially when so many of them have lost their way.”
“Recent developments indicate that it may be possible for the race known as Alicorns to repopulate again through the process known as ascension. However, without a male Alicorn to complement the females who have already transformed and the two remaining natural-born Alicorn females, probabilities of the Alicorn strain carrying into the next generation are 8.221 percent at best.”
“Some things are better left as they are, Vega,” Edna warned. “I have no desire to invite destruction to rain a second time.”
“As you wish. Is there any other way in which I might be of service to you, Hammer Strike?”
“I need you to give Edna access to the crystal fabrication system,” Hammer Strike replied. “Beyond that, an administrative rank for here should be good enough.”
“Certainly.” The walls of the chamber flashed briefly in sequence as Vega processed the request and updated his archives. “I’ve officially registered Edna and given her the necessary authorizations. The system will acknowledge any request she sends to it within the parameters you designate. Shall I place a safeguard requiring prior authorization over a certain point of fabrication?”
Hammer Strike looked to Edna for a moment before turning back. “No. I don’t think we’ll need it.”
“Very well, Hammer Strike. Welcome to the Forward Operating Crystalline Facility, now dubbed the Crystal Empire. It is a pleasure to have you aboard this project, Edna.”
“And is there a project, Hammer Strike?” Edna asked with a hint of a smirk.
Hammer Strike hummed for a moment. “How about we get you some new tools and equipment? Stuff that you’re used to.”
Edna grinned. Her eyes glinted with excitement and an almost desperate hunger as her wings flapped and one of her hooves twitched. “A new tool kit fresh from the replicator? Darling, you just made my day.”
Grif checked his outfit one last time. Being dressed in a simple suit with only mild armor beneath the surface left him feeling vulnerable as he headed to the camp for the imperial athletes. He attempted to remain low-key, only talking to those he had to and stealthing past any others until he found the tent he was looking for. He gave a polite knock on one of the tent posts and waited.
“I recognize that knock.” A familiar voice heralded the blue feathers Grif had come to love and respect over time.
“Well, I hope so.” Grif chuckled. “As after this is over, you’ll need to get very used to it.” He leaned in and kissed her.
“It’s been a long wait, but definitely worth it. This has to be the longest engagement I’ve ever had in my life.” She smirked. “So, you’re still going for fencing, huh?”
“Yup,” Grif said. “Though I'll tell you right now, I'm not gonna dedicate the victory to your honor. You're a strong girl. You can get your own.” He chuckled.
Genevieve quirked a brow. “Do you honestly think that would work on me, anyway?”
“I imagine you had plenty of males who tried.” Grif chuckled. “I always want your victories to be your own.”
“At least until we seal the deal. Then we get to be on the same team.” She licked her beak. “And I am definitely looking forward to having a repeat of that last night we had in Canterlot.”
“I’m glad.” He chuckled. “I got incredibly lucky when you found me.”
“Are you calling me a good luck charm?” She smirked.
“No.” Grif chuckled. “I’m acknowledging the fact that your cousin strongly encouraged me to marry someone from the imperial clan, and I found someone who was both beautiful and intelligent.”
“And don’t forget sporty and independent.”
“Oh, I could never forget that.” He kissed her again. “I love you, Genevieve Bladefeather.”
Geneviee smirked. “What happened to wedding and a cake first?”
“Those will come, but I want to get used to saying it.”
“Oh? Is it going to come that quickly?”
“I thought, if you’d be willing, we’d have a small ceremony done after the closing ceremonies, and I could take you back to Unity as my wife.”
“Speaking of which, where are my soon-to-be-sisters?”
“Shrial, my first, is here. The other two are back at Unity. “ Grif smirked. “We had triplets born a week ago.”
“Six cubs already?”
Grif nodded. “Four boys, two girls.”
“You have been busy.” She chuckled. “And do you have pictures this time?”
Grif fished a few from his pockets for her.
“Inquisitive,” she noted as she gazed at the curious eyes of the twins and the ponderous gaze of Tazeer. “And three newborns? Have you been able to take any pictures of them yet or did you decide to wait till later?”
“Not yet, unfortunately,” Grif said. “But they are adorable,” he assured her. “I hope you like kids.”
She shrugged. “I’ll adapt. Kind of what competitions’s all about.” Then she smiled. “So, when do I get to meet Shrial?”
“Tonight, if you have the time. Otherwise, probably tomorrow night after the ceremonies.”
“Dinner for three?”
“Made by myself.” Grif offered her his hand.
“Is that a good or a bad thing?” she asked playfully.
“You enjoyed it last time I cooked for you,” he pointed out. “At the Equestria Game trials?”
“You know you’re going to have to let us do some of the cooking every once in a while, too, right?”
“Yes. But if I can't make it a treat for you, then I'd be a poor suitor.”
“Don’t you mean a poor chef?” she teased.
“Coming?” Grif asked.
“I thought you said it was tomorrow after the opening ceremonies.”
“If you couldn’t come tonight,” Grif said. “Guessing you can’t?”
Genevieve nodded. “Unfortunately. I did say I was going to give these games my all. I wouldn’t be a proper competitor if I slacked off now.”
“Then I’ll see you tomorrow night.” He gave her a kiss. “I love you.”
Genevieve shuddered in delight. “Winds, I missed that.” She grabbed him forcefully and planted one more kiss more heavily and passionately than before. Finally, she broke off. “There. Not quite enough to make up for the wait, but it’ll do for now.” She smiled and preened his feathers briefly. “See you tomorrow, lover boy.”
“See you tomorrow, beautiful.” And with that, Grif vanished into the night.
The air was alive with the dull murmur of the crowd as they waited for the opening ceremony to commence. The VIP box was laden with a number of influential figures representing various factions throughout Equestria and the lands beyond. Mayor Mare, Prince Blueblood, Fancy Pants, Fleur, and others each had their places to gaze on the field below and oversee the events of each of the chosen teams participating. Naturally, this also included a delegate from Gryphonia to oversee events and ensure fair and honorable play. Four thrones sat in the topmost tier, each marked with the symbol of the princesses who occupied them. In a tier above that, a great crystal throne fashioned after Hammer Strike’s own throne in Unity stood prominently with a large divan-like structure at its side.
Hammer Strike sighed as he entered his portion of the royal box and glanced out to the arena and surrounding crowds. After a moment, he finally turned and took his place upon his crystal facsimile of a throne. A few moments later, a small gasp emanated from the VIPs as a somewhat larger figure strode out of the shadows and approached the royal tier. His orange feathers were glossy and flashed with their fiery accents as he drew near the royals. He bowed his head respectfully to the princesses and winked at Luna and Celestia, who nodded in turn before he strode onto the divan and laid there on all fours to peer at the crowds beyond. From above, a lone phoenix gradually circled before settling its talons atop Hammer Strike’s throne and gazing over the gathering.
Yharon chuckled. “Well, on the plus side, at least I get to turn a few heads and put people on edge. That’ll make all the pomp and circumstance a little more bearable, wouldn’t you say, Father?”
“Certainly,” Hammer Strike agreed.
“So, how much longer do we have to wait for the events to start?”
“Shouldn’t be long now.”
The crowd roared as delegation after delegation surged onto the field to plant their flags. Appleloosa came in with ropes twirling and showgirls leaping through in a series of coordinated acrobatics. The cherries rolled in on wagon wheels with skillful dance and manipulation whilst balancing atop them, much to the surprise of the audience. A show of arms like an honor guard marched forth to escort the Gryphon competitors as they surged through to plant their standard and raise their swords and spears in a salute to their emperor and his chosen representative in Equestria. One by one, delegations both foreign and domestic each put on their shows. Day Moon and his brothers strode out proudly to wave their flags, each wearing armor to symbolize the three great branches in the original training that had formed the backbone of New Unity and laid the foundation for Hammer Strike’s return. As one, the children led the soldiers and competitors behind them in the familiar cry, We are the Ursas. And last, but not least, the CMC brought up the rear to raucous applause and cheers as they planted their flag and welcomed Team Ponyville into the arena for the lighting of the torch.
As the crowd’s fervor died, a small purple figure with green spikes down his back climbed up the tall ladder leading to the great torch for the games. Whether it was the wind or the motion of the small Dragon’s climbing that shook the ladder was unknown, but the drake managed the climb slowly and steadily as he focused on the torch and kept his gaze on the rungs, rather than the many eyes that had fastened their gazes on him.
As Spike reached the top, he coughed a few times, creaked his head like a lighter, and finally, when that didn’t work, closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he opened them again, they shone with determination as a green flash passed over them briefly. He breathed deeply and unleashed a torrent of green flame that filled the bowl and ignited the torch with light and warmth. There were a few singes on his face, but he smiled victoriously as he slid down the ladder to face the apparent praise of the stern looking Pony and guards that approached to escort him off the field. He waved and smiled at the crowd’s cheers and hastened toward the exit.
Yharon smiled. “It seems our little brother took my suggestion to heart.”
“So it would seem.” Hammer Strike gave a small smile.
Yharon chuckled. “Fighting for the people you love. Works every time. You taught me that, Father.”
“So that was the speech you gave him,” Hammer Strike hummed. “I was wondering about that.”
“If we can learn to deal with it for the sake of our family and subjects, I figured Spike could, too. He did help to save this place in his own way, after all. And he had no trouble calling his fire then.”
“I’m glad to hear young Spike has started to find his warrior’s center,” Luna commented with a smile.
“If there’s one thing a Dragon will always do, it’s protect what it deems most precious,” Yharon agreed. “And now, we can all enjoy the ceremonies together while Spike gets the royal treatment.”
Cadance smiled and waved to her husband as his voice boomed over the crowd.
“Let the games begin!”
Moon River bounced excitedly on her father’s back as the family strode through the great crystal halls of the palace. Crystal guards saluted and otherwise offered their greetings as the family passed until they reached the royal quarters. The moment the door opened, the filly squealed in delight and dove with the swiftness of a plummeting eagle to tackle a familiar form. Cosy winced and chuckled as he rose slowly to his hooves and looked back to Pensword.
“Hi, Uncle, Aunties,” he greeted, even as the filly wrapped her forelegs around his neck and nuzzled him before nibbling at his ear again. “It’s been a while.”
“A little too long, I think.” Pensword smiled sadly. “We missed you, Cosy.”
“Don’t forget me!” An adorable golden filly charged into Pensword’s side and seized his foreleg in an iron grip before nuzzling him.
“Hello, Alto!” Lunr fang smiled. “keeping up your smithing?”
“Every day.” She grinned. “I’m getting really good at making knives!”
“Your brother-in-law must be proud,” Fox Feather said with a smile.
Alto nodded. “I can’t wait to show Hammer Strike what I can do now. I’m making all kinds of tools and things. Nails, screws. You know, for building things.” She peeked behind the mares to look at the three young colts that waited patiently. “Who are they?” she asked and pointed to the boys.
Pensword smiled. “These are our foster sons. Princess Luna placed them in our care with their father’s permission to give them the chance to learn about their mother’s side of the family. Their names are Cristo, Inigo, and Day Moon. Say hello, boys.”
All three colts bowed their heads formally. “Hello,” they greeted.
Day Moon looked to Cosy. “Grif tells me you’re really good with a sword.”
Cosy chuckled. “Well, Uncle Pensword calls me the War Prince. I don’t know if I’d say I’m the best, but I know how to use it at least.”
“Maybe you can show me what you know sometime. I’d love to try sparring with you if you’ll let me.”
“Me, too!” Inigo jumped in.
“If you want, I can see about having Uncle Shining give us some pointers. He’s the one who helped me learn what I know. Well, him and my tutor.”
“The one who covered all of Canterlot in a magical shield for a whole week without stopping?” Cristo’s eyes widened with surprise.
“Yup, that’s the one,” Cosy laughed. “He doesn’t like talking about it too much. Something to do with Changelings.” He shuddered and shook his head. “We have a lot of love up here, so there are a lot of ferals that try to feed. There aren’t many that can make it through the snow, but we’ve had to deal with a few that breached the walls before.”
Pensword frowned. “Have they told Hammer Strike about this?”
“I don’t think they felt the need. These Changelings couldn’t speak. They’re more like animals than Ponies.” He frowned. “Can hunger really make a Pony like that?”
“You’ve never been told of a wendigo, have you?” Lunar Fang asked.
“You mean Windigo?” Cosy asked.
“No. A Wendigo,” Lunar Fang said, being careful to anticipate the difference. “It’s what happens when a Pony is possessed by a spirit of hunger and commits the heinous act of cannibalism.”
“You mean a Pony was actually willing to eat another Pony?” Cosy’s face paled at the thought.
“Yes.” Lunar Fang nodded. “They grow massive, thin, but incredibly strong, and very few things can stop them.”
“I can,” Day Moon said as his eyes hardened. “Or at least I will after my apprenticeship is over.”
Pensword laid a wing gently on the colt’s back. “One step at a time, son. Even a cub knows when to cut its teeth and when to wait and learn. And we both have a lot yet to learn, don’t we?”
Day Moon smiled sadly. “Yeah.” He sighed. “Is it bad for me to wish we didn’t have to, though?”
This time, Fox Feather was the one to intervene. “No, Day Moon. It just means you have something to fight for. We protected Equestria from the Gryphons when they chose to be monsters. You’ll protect Equestria from creatures that never chose to question their nature, so everypony else will have the chance to grow in the light. And one day, I think you and the others you work with will be able to make that wish a reality.” She offered her foster son a smile of encouragement.
“All right, everypony, let’s drop the grim talk. We came here to celebrate the games, after all. Let’s focus on the fun we can have right now. Save the rest for another day,” Pensword said as he gave Day Moon and Cosy both a noogie, followed by booping Moon River on the nose.
Cosy couldn’t help but giggle. “Yes, Sir,” he said and offered a playful salute. And so the two families went about reestablishing the ties that duty and honor had kept them from being able to renew for far too long.
The old house was still the same, despite the innovations that contact with Equestria had brought back to the city. Jäger still sat in his wheelchair with a blanket over his legs, almost as if he were napping. The only signs of life seemed to emanate from the streets beyond and the gentle pulse of energy that passed inherently through the crystalline structures of the home.
“Hello, old hunter,” Grif said as he sat across from Jäger.
“It’s been some time,” Jäger responded. “Come for more information of some kind?”
“More for a request for help,” Grif admitted. “We have a problem.”
“Enough of a problem to come to an old hunter for?” Jäger hummed as he looked over Grif. “Let’s hear it.”
“Sombra opened a door and sent out an invitation,” Grif said, passing a file over to the aged Gryphon. “He didn’t manage to bring back everything, but he brought back a lot.”
Jäger frowned as he took hold of the file and began looking it over. After some time, he frowned. “So, the nightmare begins again.” He sighed. “What is it you need of me? It’s not as if I can lunge into hunting once more.”
“No, but you and I both know this is likely to be something to outlive both of us. We’re gonna need a new generation to pick up the slack when we’re gone. I don’t have time to teach them, but you do.”
Jäger frowned as he thought over what Grif had said. “I suppose the newest hunters here could manage in my absence.” He sighed. “Give me some time to think over how long I would need.”
“Take the time you need. I have a place ready for you when you decide you're ready,” Grif promised.
“It may be some time, but I’ll see to it. This current generation could use more refinement, but that takes practice.” He looked back at Grif. “How much have you established so far?”
“I have a facility for our kind to come and receive direction and payment. Likewise, I’ve been expanding to include an area where they can stay and interested volunteers can be trained.”
“That’ll do well enough, then. I’ll at least need a place ready by my arrival, but I figure you’ve already put some thought into all of that.”
“Of course. I wouldn’t come to you unprepared. That’s not our way.”
“Then I’ll send you a letter before I depart from here.”
“I’ll keep an eye out,” Grif said. “And thank you for hearing me out.”
“Listening is easy. What comes next is not.”
Grif prepared himself with a few stretches and some quick practice movements as he waited for his chance to be called out for the gold medal match of what had been a long day of fencing.
The crowd roared its appreciation for the thrill of the battles that had come before. Grif had taken on the gauntlet and won. Now he had but one challenger to remain. Pokey Pierce had been practicing in Ponyville for ages. He was supposed to be a stallion of some skill. Of course, that remained to be seen.
…
Particularly when the cloaked individual who arrived tossed aside the cloth dramatically to reveal the glossy white coat and purple mane of a very familiar mare. Rarity Belle Strike smiled sweetly at her instructor as she pulled her epee from its sheath and bowed. “Hello, Grif. It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”
“What a shocking development! In a last minute substitution for the Equestrian team, Lady Rarity Belle Strike has stepped into the ring to tango with Grif Bladefeather himself. The Element of Generosity versus one of the greatest war heroes of Equestrian history. Will she live up to the title by spreading a butt kicking or will she fall gracefully to her opponent’s blade? Either way, this is going to prove to be a fine match, ladies and gentlecolts!” the announcer cried.
“Well now, this is a surprise.” Grif grinned as he flourished his eepee. “How’d you end up here?”
“Now, Grif, darling, you didn’t think I’d let you have all the fun, did you? I had a lot of practice disguising myself after the Mare Do Well incident, and I must say, it’s come in handy for the games. No favoritism and all skill. Just the way we like it.”
“Well, then.” Grif held his epee vertically before pointing it to the ground in a salute. “Allez!”
Rarity returned the gesture, and the combat began in earnest. The two began with circling one another and probing gently with their swords. The two weapons hissed as they crossed and rubbed against one another, waiting for the first flick to herald the beginning of what was bound to either be a slaughter or a very entertaining match. Rarity made the first move with a swift disengage, followed by a lunge toward Grif’s torso.
Grif parried the lunge, though with more effort than he’d had to do with others. Rarity was surprisingly fast. With his parry, he proceeded to feint to the left before attempting to hit her chest.
The mare seemed to anticipate that, however, and jumped backward with enough space to allow her sword to meet the Gryphon’s blow. From there, it was a matter of running her sword up Grif’s blade and a forced advance toward the edge of her box. The shift was subtle, but years in the art of sewing and design as a seamstress had granted her the finesse necessary to maneuver her blade just enough to shift underneath the guard at Grif's hand and thrust toward his chest.
Grif dodged backwards before pulling down and to the side, then used the underside of his guard to pull her blade out of the way of its intended path. Releasing her blade, he thrust for her exposed side.
Rarity grit her teeth as the blow landed home and the judge cried, “Arret!” Both fencers pulled back. “A clean hit. The first point goes to Grif Bladefeather!”
Rarity smiled and huffed lightly. “Nicely done, Grif.”
“You’re doing well, Rarity.” Grif smirked. “Some of those lessons actually took.”
“Did you honestly expect them not to? You should know I stick to the job until it’s done, Grif. Even if I do sometimes get a little upset under pressure.”
The two set up for the second bout. Once more, they saluted. Once more, the judge cried out his signals, and the pair began again.
Grif started this time with a jab at the mare’s side. Rarity was swift to bat the blow aside and return to her ready stance. This time, she kept to the defensive and waited to deflect enough blows till an opening could rise. If the two were given open space, the arena would have been treated to a mighty dance. As it was, however, they would have to be satisfied with the song of steel cutting the air and clashing against its fellows. At long last, Rarity found an opening and twisted her fetlock, diverting Grif’s blade with a vicious jerk before lunging in to connect with Grif’s breast.
“Point!” the judge cried.
“Well fought,” Rarity said. Her smile was radiant, and the crowd amped up its cheering as the two fighters gauged one another with a casual but calculated intensity.
“Impressive. You have skill.” Grif smirked.
“I had a good teacher.”
“True.” Grif chuckled and gave an impressive flourish. “He may have taught you everything you know, but did he teach you everything he knows?”
“I suppose we’ll just have to find out, won’t we?” Rarity grinned as she raised her epee in salute. “I’m looking forward to it.”
Grif returned the flourish and, when the signal was given, proceeded to lunge for her, releasing a quick string of jabs and thrusts. To her credit and that of her teacher, Rarity managed to hold her ground for a while, but the flurry of blows gradually became faster and faster. It was not the speed for which Grif had come to be known. He had sworn not to use those abilities in the course of the competition. However, it was a speed which his father had taught him to use during their training, and a speed he had worked to refine ever since. Side to side, up and down, back and forth the two danced and flurried and spun like marionettes. The crash of their epees clattered and rang through the arena as the crowd held its breath and the two lashed at one another.
Grif slid his epee under the guard of Rarity’s and, with a careful flick, disarmed her before lunging and getting his final point on her chest.
The crowd gaped in stunned silence, then erupted in a roar of cheers and excitement. Rarity bowed respectfully to her teacher and approached to raise his arm into the air.
“And in an amazing bout that will doubtless be remembered as one of the closest in the history of the games, Grif Bladefeather clinches the medal for New Unity!”
“Well played, darling,” Rarity congratulated him.
“Well done yourself. I’m proud of your progress.” Grif gave her a bow.
“Just wait until the next games.” She smirked. “I may just have a few new surprises for you.”
Grif held up Rarity’s hoof for the crowd in turn. “Who knows? You might beat me next time.”
“I suppose we’ll just have to wait and see.”
Grif ran a few stances as he wound down from the fencing event. Technically, it was still being judged, and the results wouldn’t be revealed until the very end of the games, but Grif was fairly certain he’d gotten the gold medal. He was feeling amazing after that fight with Rarity and seeing how far she’d come. He still had his magic and thaumic fields repressed, and was simply going off skill alone as he waited for the adrenaline to wear off.
“You performed very well in the arena, Grif,” a posh voice complimented. “The epee may not be your sword of choice, but you wield it competently. That’s more than can be said for most.”
“Thank you,” Grif said. “I pride myself on adaptability. So what brings you out here Octavia?”
“I’ve been given a task,” she replied simply as she opened a long leather case at her side and pulled out what, to the casual observer, appeared to be a simple bow. “It’s not one that I particularly relish, but I’ve been asked to as one who bears a closer connection to you and your friends,” she noted as she twisted the mechanism to tighten the metal that glinted in place of the normal hairs that should have been there.
“Never thought you for an assassin,” Grif said, bringing the epee up.
“Grif, if I wanted to assassinate you, I could have done it hundreds of times over by now,” Octavia said bluntly. “That is not what I do, nor is it what the organization I am associated with approves of, save for in the most dire circumstances.” The strange sword whistled in the air, and the rushing of the wind left a thrumming hum in its wake. “I have been instructed to teach, not to kill. And I always deliver on my instructions.”
“Really?” Grif chuckled as he circled her slowly. “Seems unlikely to happen with a violin bow.”
“Cello, actually,” Octavia corrected clinically. “I find it has much better reach. Are you ready to begin?”
Grif gave a salute and signaled her to go ahead.
He just barely blocked her initial strike and found himself backpedaling as three lighting-fast and well-placed strikes followed. Before he could gain ground to counter, she smacked the epee from his hand and let it fall to the ground with the razor wire stopping a hair's breadth from his neck.
The two stood there, quietly taking the other’s gaze in before Octavia pulled back and pointed to the patch of earth where Grif’s epee had fallen. “Take up your sword, Grif. And this time, don’t let your pride trip you up.”
Grif grimaced as he retrieved the blade. This time, his stance was more firm, his body set. This was no casual bout; not anymore. He didn’t give her a chance this time, and moved into the opening gambit with a flurry of blows. “Huh. You’re using Ponetti's defence against me.”
Octavia leaped onto a jutting flower box from one of the buildings and continued to parry the blows. “I thought it fitting, considering the rocky terrain.”
“So then you must expect me to attack with Capo Ferro,” Grif commented as he pushed forward with more numerous rapid strikes.
“Naturally. But I find Thunderbolt cancels out Capo Ferro. Don’t you?” she asked casually as she parried the blows with expert care and the barest hints of effort, never lunging, and always just barely pushing Grif’s blows aside to avoid damage. When Grif rose onto the box to join her, she leaped down onto the street again.
“Unless your opponent has studied his Agrypha,” Grif said, doing a flip as he dodged a slash, aiming for his feet and returned to raining blows. “Which I have.” Grif continued pushing, both gaining and losing ground as Octavia answered him parry for blow and dodge for thrust. “You are wonderful,” Grif said.
Octavia smiled as she twirled down the street in a dervish to swiftly block a flurry of thrusts. “Thank you. I’ve worked hard to become so.”
“I must admit, I cannot best you.”
As the two drew nearer to an alley, Octavia returned Grif’s blows with a set of her own, pushing him back and limiting his flight space overhead with the closeness of the walls. “Then why are you smiling?”
“Because I know something you don’t.” Grif Smirked as he was backed into a wall.
“And what is that?”
Grif unsheathed a blunted dueling stiletto from his bandolier “I am not left handed.” he pushed back with both blades, moving in with a punishing dual flurry.
Now Octavia was on the retreat as Grif pushed her back with blow after blow. Every trick she tried only managed to slow the Gryphon’s progress, not halt it. Their battle led them through the street and back to a set of stairs, which Octavia was forced to take upward. Every blow was parried, every feint seen through, every thrust dodged. None of her counter strategies seemed to work. “This is the Grif I wanted to see.” And despite the harrying situation, a grin spread across her face. “You’re amazing!”
“I ought to be after two score and four years,” Grif said.
Octavia grunted as she was shoved against a wall. Her smile still didn’t waver. “There’s something … I ought to tell you.”
“And what is that?” Grif asked.
“I’m not left-hoofed either.” There was the spark of magic as Octavia grabbed the end of the bow with both hooves and pulled. A seam appeared where none had been and continued up the weapon until it split into two full sized versions of her sword. With a great thrust of strength belying her tiny form, she pushed Grif away and assumed a proper pose before going on the offensive in a whirling dervish of blows, feints, and parries, even going so far as to knock both of Grif’s weapons out of his hands and send them flying several feet behind him to skitter across the ground.
Grif eyed the mare carefully, and his tail twitched briefly like a snake before he leaped into the air, somersaulted, and landed to reclaim his weapons. Octavia chuckled at the sight and, in a show of skill, flung her swords at the ground, where they embedded themselves. She then leaped from building to building on either side in a series of acrobatics before finally landing gracefully between the two swords and picking them back up to resume the fight. The pair battled valiantly in the streets, and the very air seemed almost to sing with their strokes until, at last, both epee and stiletto went skittering to the floor, and Grif was left to stand alone against the twin bow-blades.
With no other choice, Grif wilted and signalled his surrender. For the first time in an age, he found himself bested by a single opponent.
Octavia nodded and restored the blade to its original state, then extended a hoof to Grif. Both were sweating as they locked gazes with one another. “Resourceful, honorable, focused.” She nodded again. “There’s potential to grow, if you’re of a mind to be taught, though not by me.” She smiled. “Your spies have been trying to infiltrate our little group for some time now. We thought it best to come to you directly.”
“So what happens now?”
“That depends entirely on you. Our organization is something akin to a certain group you came to know in the far east. We study the blade for the purpose of peace. And we believe that all are worthy to learn, no matter the race or creed, provided they are willing to abide by the ideals that we uphold. You have proven enough through your deeds to show your loyalty to Equestria and to Hammer Strike. He, in turn, has shown his dedication to preserving peace. Now that we have fought, I know you better than any interview could possibly allow. If you wish, you may establish ties with us and sharpen your skills, as well as forge an alliance. The latter, however, will not be for me to decide. I’m simply a messenger. One who awaits your response.”
“I’ll think about it,” Grif said.
Octavia nodded. “You know where to find me once you reach your decision.”
Grif nodded. “May I go?”
“What made you think I was trying to stop you?” She smiled. “Though I would appreciate a ride back to my cello case, if you can spare the time.”
Grif nodded. “Hop on.”
The sun blazed bright over the arena on the second day as a veritable rainbow of colors refracted from the gemlike coats of the Crystal Ponies to cast an aurora over the courses. The relay race stood at the ready with a series of spiraling up and down drafts designed to waylay the flyers that sought to race toward the top. In this game’s case, rather than doing one or the other, both events would be run simultaneously. The time would only be able to wind down to its end if all elements of the team arrived at the designated finish line.
Ponyville, New Unity, Gryphonia, and other teams awaited the arrival of the referees with equal bouts of excitement, nerves, determination, and calm that cycled at random intervals. Lightning Dust was flanked by a Pegasus and a Thestral from their barracks. Rainbow Dash reamined with her team and psyched them up with pep talk. Before the match officially began, Lightning Dust approached the trio.
Lighting dust gulped as she stared Rainbow Dash down. “Best of luck to you,” she said nervously.
Rainbow looked intently at Lighting Dust. Finally, she extended a hoof. “Hammer Strike’s not someone who’ll pick a player just to win. If he thinks you’re a good captain, then I trust him. Good luck to your team. Lead them right, okay?” It wasn’t quite an apology. And it wasn’t quite forgiveness either, but it was a foundation. And that was all someone needed to be able to start to build.
Lighting Dust Took the hoof and shook it carefully. Then both Ponies nodded to each other.
The trumpet sounded, and the competitors gazed intently at the announcer as he approached. The rules were explained, and the racers took their marks. With a final cry, the signal was flashed, and the competitors flew for all that they were worth. Fluttershy and Bulk worked on the relay while Rainbow zipped through the maze of drafts. Genevieve darted in and out of the cloud banks and air currents with practiced ease, even going so far as to literally tie some of them in knots along the way. Bulk biceps punched through cloud after cloud, easily bucking them to smithereens along the course while Fluttershy floated timidly in search of the rings to assemble the upward trajectory toward the finish line. Having learned from her mistakes before, Lightning Dust zipped around the clouds, but rather than attempting to clear them, she herded them in one place and compacted them together until the rings were forced to fall with the vapor like water squeezed from a rag.
In the end, the tunnels were set, and the competitors flew together through each ring toward the summit where the stopwatches waited at the top of the course. When the relay teams had finished, they watched from above as the maze of currents buffeted the other contenders below. Riptides and whirlpools of air tossed and yanked and pushed as the competitors flew with all the strength they could muster. Genevieve pressed slowly and steadily against one of the currents and thrust with every effort to push herself ever higher. Rainbow streaked with her famous trail behind her as the winds continued to shift and adapt in an effort to halt her advance. At long last, the cloud burst open, and Genevieve gasped as she clawed at the edge of the cloud and pulled herself to the surface to seize the second stopwatch for her team. Shortly afterward, Rainbow Dash punched through the clouds at mach speed to join them. Bringing up the rear, Team Unity’s flyer forced through for the third.
“That. Was. AWESOME!” Rainbow crowed.
Genevieve couldn’t help but chuckle. “It … wasn’t a bad event,” she agreed. “I guess we’ll be facing off against each other in the final race, then.”
Rainbow grinned. “I’m looking forward to it. Don’t hold back on me, though.”
“Please. The Winds would never forgive me if I did.”
The teams shook hooves and hands one with another and took their rest to await the next heat to come and the final race to decide who would win which medals. Regardless of the outcome, however, the competitors were proud of themselves and all that they had accomplished. It was a good day to fly.
Genevieve’s claws and talons clicked along the surface of the crystal floor of the castle as she strode beside her fiancé. The engagement ring stood out prominently on her finger, and she butted against her future mate playfully as they progressed through the corridor.
“So, I finally get to meet the stallion behind the warrior.” She smiled. “Should I be nervous?”
“Not really.” Grif shrugged. “He may come across as stern, but he’s actually pretty cool-headed.”
“Except for when his ire gets roused. But I’m guessing that goes without saying.”
“I mean, I'm quite terrifying when I get angry, too.”
“Yes, but you didn’t hold the threat of undead and utter destruction over our heads either, even if you did lop off enough wings to feed a titan.”
Grif entered the room as they got to the door, not bothering to attempt to knock. “Hello, Hammer Strike.”
“Hello, Grif, and … Genevieve, if I remember correctly?” Hammer Strike greeted.
Genevieve nodded. “It seems I’m going to be under your employ soon. Thank you for agreeing to see me.”
“It was no problem. I’m sure you’ll fit in well enough.” He gave a small smile. “Was there anything in particular you wanted to discuss?”
“I just wanted to introduce you to her, since we’ll be getting married relatively soon,” Grif said
“Fair enough. I’m sure you’ll both be quite ... happy,” Hammer Strike trailed off as he looked to the side, furrowing his brows as he looked around.
“Everything okay?” Grif asked.
“That’s peculiar,” he muttered before turning back towards= the two. “Sorry. It seems something’s shown up.” He opened a rift to his side. “Feel free to come along. Shouldn’t be too dangerous.”
“You mean other than the raging snow storm,” Genevieve noted with a smirk. “What do you think, Grif? Up for a romp in the snow?”
“Always.” Grif laughed, hopping through.
The snow was brutal as the cold winter winds whipped up the powder and shot it like tiny daggers toward the trio. Snow drifts, hard earth, and mountains stretched far in the distance, but there appeared to be no sign of any form of monster or threatening creature. That was when they heard it, a great detonation of thunder. In the southern reaches of Equestria, such a phenomena was not unheard of. But in the cold wintery grasp of the tundra, the very concept of a thunder snow storm was nigh-unthinkable.
A great bolt of lightning suddenly rent the air, filling the surrounding area with the scent of ozone. When the light finally faded and their vision returned, a message was scorched into the ground in Gryphic.
“Let those who seek the blessing of thunder earn their passage to stand before the Child of the West,” Genevieve read.
“Well, I suppose it was a good thing you came along, Grif,” Hammer Strike spoke up.
“The thunderbird,” Grif said.
“I suppose I leave this in your hands, as I’m sure just having me around is going to be interesting enough.”
“You mean you don’t want to face certain peril and danger with just a hint of adventure and mystery?” Genevieve asked with a smirk.
“Part of that implies there is danger here for me,” Hammer Strike remarked. “While I can sense the divine presence, I doubt it will be used against us, especially given the invitation.”
“Grif, have you been expecting this?” Genevieve asked curiously.
“I’ve met the bird of paradise and the quetzalcoatl,” Grif said. “I need to meet with him, and then with the roc.”
“Well, we are technically in the roc’s territory. Maybe we’ll see him here, too, while we’re visiting.”
“Yes, but competition is the thunderbird's sphere of influence,” Grif noted. “I didn’t suspect the games would bring it this close.”
Genevieve smirked. “Well, it’s not good to keep a god waiting, now is it?” She launched herself into the cloudbank before Grif could have the chance to stop her.
“Kinda funny really,” Griff laughed as he chased after the brave, albeit somewhat reckless Gryphoness.
“That depends on if you’re willing to let me in on the joke!” Genevieve called from higher up. “Mind the lightning!”
Grif’s form was struck, and then faded as he appeared beside her. “I met the bird of paradise the morning after my honeymoon with my first wife, after we made love all night during a hurricane.”
Genevieve smirked. “Setting the bar for our honeymoon, Grif? You know how much I love breaking records.” An arc of lightning looped into a hoop that she dove through with the grace of a well-practiced flyer. Her fur and feathers seemed almost to glow with an iridescent sheen as the reflection lit up her orbs with a wild beauty.
“The funny part is I ended up running into the quetzalcoatl in Griffelheim shortly after I married my second wife Avalon.”
“I suppose we can call this your third lap, then.” She jumped from cloud chunk to cloud chunk like a pinball off a series of bumpers, lunging and soaring as she timed the buildup of energy and maneuvered through the drafts.
“Yeah.” Grif chuckled. “Think it’s some kinda sign of approval?”
“Or a test. Or coincidence.” Genevieve shrugged as another bolt of lightning was halted in its tracks by Grif’s maneuvering of the wind to change the air’s ionization. “You know, I’m not so sure that’s what the thunderbird wanted when he said to earn passage.”
“Maybe he simply wanted us to not be able to waltz in?” Grif shrugged. Eyes sparking with inspiration, he flew in close and grabbed her arms as he began to turn and twist, dodging the lighting as he guided her in even smooth motions.
“A waltz, Grif? You know, … I much prefer the tango.”
Grif smirked and flawlessly swapped the tempo of his movements.
“Not bad,” Genevieve complimented before shifting stance and seizing him in a grip of her own. “But let the lady lead.”
“Be my guest,” Grif said, letting her take control as they moved through the air.
The pair swooped gracefully through the air, sometimes breaking up pieces of cloud, other times dodging bolts of lighting or neutralizing the explosion. “I suppose we could call this a warmup for the wedding dance,” Genevieve bantered.
“No. For you, that will be something even more special.”
“Careful, Grif. You’ll make the thunderbird jealous if you keep talking like that.”
“I respect the gods and honor the gifts they gave to us,” Grif said as he pulled her in closer. “But my family is my first priority. If he gets jealous, then he’ll live with it. Nothing’s too good for my family.”
She grinned. “Is that so? In that case, how about we corkscrew our way through the rest of the cloud and finish this little challenge, hmm?”
“Sure,” Grif said as he let her lead. Leaning forward, he locked his beak with hers and kissed her. Together, the two maneuvered their wings and spun in the air until they took on the appearance of a spinning projectile, literally drilling their way through the cloud until they finally broke through into the open air.
A great arc of lightning glowed and surged before them in a constant stream that branched from the floor to either side of the sanctuary, ensuring a continual supply of energy that fueled the storm beyond the walls and served as a perch to their host. The creature that stood before them was as intense as its sister was gentle. The thunderbird’s great wings flared as white electricity wreathed and jumped between golden feathers. His dark orbs were black as the darkest cloudbank and polished as the surface of a lake before a storm. One beat of his wings was as a vast storm front thrusting all before it.
Releasing Genevieve, Grif lowered his beak to the mighty beast. “My lord Thunderbird.”
“Grif, son of Graf.” The lesser deity’s beak twisted into a smile. “Long have I waited for this meeting. It has been worth every minute of the race, even if you did end up taking a few shortcuts along the way. It’s been a merry chase. Rise, Avatar. You and I both know this is only another checkpoint on the road to twilight, and there is only so much time to rest before the race resumes.”
“My lord.” Grif smirked. “This is my fiancé Genevieve, of the imperial clan.”
“I know.” The thunderbird turned his gaze on the Gryphoness. “Hail and well met, little sister. You have made our father proud with your endeavors, and you have waited patiently, as all good hunters must in order to win the prize that is most sought. This has also pleased me. And it will please me even more when you two finally tie the knot, so my sister will stop complaining. As you are well aware, Grif, she is very much a mother, and like all mothers, likes for things to be just so.”
“Yes, I am aware.” Grif laughed. “Four wives, four directions, four points on a compass.”
Genevieve bowed her head. “I prepared myself for the possibility of seeing you or one of your siblings after what Grif told me happened with his other wives. It’s an honor to know I bear such esteem.”
“Good. And now that the opening events are finished, we can get down to the business at hand. Formalities are well and good at the beginning of a race, but I much prefer the event itself. Words are just that, words. Actions always speak louder, and more often with purer intent. So, let’s be frank, just the three of us. As a member of the imperial family, Genevieve, there are those who will try to dispute your marriage on Equestrian soil, even if it is performed by a Gryphon of the empire.” He smirked. “However, while they may dispute against a fellow Gryphon, they won’t be able to dispute against me. And as the west is my domain, so, too, are the skies of Equestria. My elder brother has been kind enough to allow me to fly in his territory to fulfill this responsibility while the games are being held. So, let’s get down to business, hmm?”
“... My lord?” Genevieve asked in some confusion.
“I’m going to marry you, Genevieve. It’s not that difficult to understand.” He looked at Grif. “You do have the bloodstone, don’t you?”
Grif produced the gem. “Of course.”
“Good. In that case, I’m going to give the two of you the short version. The longer I stay in my brother’s territory than necessary, the more upset he’ll be. And beside that, you two would probably prefer to focus on a different sort of sport after I’m gone.” He smiled as the cloud jutted into a makeshift altar with energy coursing through it. “Place the gem on the cloud and we can begin.”
Grif placed the gem where indicated and stepped back, taking Genevieve's talons in his own.
“So, do we call this a bonus round, then?” Genevieve joked as she kissed his cheek.
“I think we call this the platinum medal.” He winked at her.
“I thought we only had gold, silver, or bronze.”
“Remind me to introduce you to some games later.”
“After the honeymoon, Grif. Or more specifically, after our wedding night.”
“It’s a date.” He smirked.
“Okay, make that the short short version.” The thunderbird chuckled. “Grif, do you?”
“I do.” Grif continued to smirk.
“Genevieve, do you?”
Genevieve chuckled. “I do.”
“Good. Let’s cut to the chase. Literally.”
“Genevieve, I know we’ve been separated by duties and by life, but today marks the start where our roads come together. I promise you will always have an equal share in my heart, and my love will never be lacking. I promise to be your shield and sword, and to defend you till my last breath,” Grif said, looking into her eyes.
“We already promised we would be together for this life and the life to come, Grif. And I know that’s a promise that we’ll keep together. As the Thunderbird said, actions speak louder than words. This will be my first act of many to come.” She nicked a finger with her talon and brought it toward the channel on her side as electrical energy raised the bloodstone to hover in the air. “And I look forward to sharing them with you and with my future sister wives.”
As the blood fell into the channel and mixed with the rest, the hole closed up. Grif approached her and pulled her into a passionate kiss. When they finally broke, he grinned at her. “Hello, Genevieve Bladefeather.”
“Hey, wait till you cross the finish line,” the Thunderbird joked. Then he cleared his throat. “By the authority vested in me by me and by my father, the West Wind, I now pronounce you husband and wife. Now you can kiss the bride.”
“Allow me.” Genevieve returned Grif’s kiss with one of her own as the two reversed roles. A smile pulled at her lips, and she held him there for a time until both finally had to come up for air.
The Thunderbird chuckled. “Excellent. Now then, time for the prize.” He reached with his beak and plucked a feather charged with lightning. An arc of electricity shot from the clouds to levitate the feather into Grif’s hands. “I give this gift to you, Grif Bladefeather. You will know when to use its power when the time is right. And as for my other gift, your previous questions about the origins of your trusted blades has been answered, I believe. Or will be soon. What more do you seek?”
“Just a meeting with your brother,” Grif said reverently, taking the feather.
“That is something that is up to him to grant. He will come in his own time, and at a place of his choosing. A word of caution to you, however, Grif. My brother’s aspect is rage. Be careful not to rouse his ire. He’s already upset with you for past grievances. Though he is pleased that you’ve made peace, it’s hard for him to let go of grudges. He may require a service of you in turn before he grants that which you will need.”
“Then I shall be ready to offer myself readily.”
“A quick answer. We will see how it holds in time.” He smiled and bowed his head. “My blessing on the both of you in your union. May the long race of life treat you well in success, and may you have the fortitude and strength to overcome its challenges and obstacles together.” The bloodstone flew toward Grif with a flick of the Thunderbird’s talon. Grif caught it quickly. “And may the mark of my blessing stand over your bloodstone to prove my and my father’s will concerning your union.”
“I thank you for your generosity, lord.”
“We both do,” Genevieve added.
“Good. You can show it by the usual means. After all, my sister wants you to have many children, Grif.”
“Well, I’ll do my part, but deciding that belongs to the Gryphoness.” He smirked.
“And don’t you forget it,” Genevieve added with her own smirk as she nudged him playfully.
The Thunderbird chuckled. “Get a room, you two. Preferably not in my cloud, unless you want to miss the rest of your little sporting event.”
The newlywed couple took the hint and gave their farewells. As the pair descended with feather in tow, they soon found themselves back at the base of the cloudbank, where Hammer Strike stood waiting expectantly.
“Everything dealt with?” Hammer Strike asked.
“More than you think.” Grif smirked.
“Then let’s head back.” Hammer Strike opened a rift at his side. “Still have plenty to do.”
“Yes,” Grif agreed. “We really do.”
Genevieve laid a wing over Grif’s side and pulled him close. “And I know just where to start.”
The following day, the final events pulled up, including the accidental misfire of an ice arrow into a cloud bank that had been left behind after the Thunderbird’s visit. While some Ponies screamed and panicked, and other Pegasi scrambled to get people to safety or otherwise help cushion the cloudberg’s descent, Spike did what came naturally, leaping without thought into the danger and blasting it in a great gout of green flame that vaporized the threat.
With the resolution of the danger, Spike officially earned his title of Great and Honorable Spike the Brave and Glorious. But his friends just called him Spike. That night, the closing ceremony was to be one that would be remembered for years to come, because not only was there a king to rule, not only was there a new royal sibling, but heroes new and old had acted for the sake of protecting the innocent, proving once again the importance of having properly trained armed forces.
“Ladies and Gentlecolts!” Shining Armor’s voice rang through the stands as he addressed the crowd. “Today has been a truly memorable day in the Crystal Empire. Not only have we seen incredible competitors at work, but we were privileged to witness the heroic acts of Ponies and one very special Dragon in action.”
“In honor of their bravery and heroism it is our privilege to grant each of them a just reward for their efforts,” Cadance continued as each of the winning teams lined up on their pedestals and the heroes stood atop their platforms. With greetings of, “Congratulations,” and, “Thank you for your service,” the queen of the empire bedecked each of the champions with their rewards. “Citizens of Equestria and the Crystal Empire, I give you your champions!”
Yharon smiled and leaned his head toward his father’s throne as the crowd erupted in applause and the fireworks began to launch. “So, did you anticipate that outcome and decide to let Spike take care of it, or was there another reason you didn’t act?” he asked curiously.
“A little confidence boost wouldn’t hurt him.” Hammer Strike gave a small smile. “He just needs a little guidance from time to time.”
“Are you saying you arranged for that arrow to go awry?”
“Nope. But, a little in-the-moment thinking did occur.”
Yharon chuckled. “Of course it did. So, what comes next now?”
“Plenty, but perhaps for now we’ll just see to the event ending safely.”
“And possibly update the parameters of the anti-magic field those Unicorns designed.”
“Well, of course.”
“Out of curiosity, Father, what day is it today?”
“Thursday.”
Yharon nodded. “I thought so. A curious anomaly, given the statistical course of events I’ve uncovered. Most of the threatening events seem to take place on Tuesdays.”
“Statistical anomalies are more common than you’d think in this age,” Hammer Strike replied with a faint chuckle.
“You do tend to shake things up, don’t you?”
“It’s too easy.”
“... Didn’t you tell us never to say that?”
“No, I said don’t tempt Murphy. In this case, I’m just stating a fact that has already come to pass.”
“Given the fact you literally performed a bloodless coup, I don’t really have any ground to stand on to argue that point.”
With the award ceremony finished, and having rewarded Spike for his incredible mastery of fire and act of heroism, Hammer Strike had significantly more time to himself to spend in the empire. In this case, that meant meeting up with Edna for another one of her little visits. Vega’s hidden room was the same as they had left it before the games began. Crystal glittered and glowed to provide artificial light to the space as Edna looked up to Hammer Strike.
“I believe it is time for us to address the Minotaur in the room,” Edna started.
“Considering where you wanted to meet, it’s about this facility, isn’t it?” Hammer Strike sighed.
“Yes,” Edna agreed. “You and I are both aware of what this facility was meant to become. Given the amount of recent activity of a less than savory nature, I believe it’s time we put our cards on the table.” She gazed intently at Hammer Strike. “I want you to complete it.”
Hammer Strike clenched his jaw for a moment. “You’re asking me to complete a planetary weapon.”
“For a planetary threat, darling. I may not have your clearance, but I am high enough to be able to see the readings Vega took. Something is probing the veil, and we both know what that can lead to without proper precautions.”
“Edna. They’ve been watching me since the day I arrived—”
“Watching and acting are two different things, Hammer Strike. They are getting bolder.”
“I know. As I was trying to say, I don’t deny that they have been more active in recent times. Especially with Sombra calling upon them as he did.” Hammer Strike sighed. “But this? This could kill the planet itself if we aren’t careful with it, let alone an entire species.”
“Which is why you have to be the one to design it,” Edna said. “You are the only one, and I do mean the only one, I have ever met who hasn’t let power go to his head for literal millennia. The gods themselves consort with you on a regular basis. You are perhaps the only Pony that can be trusted to know when to use this power and how to direct it.”
“If I might make a suggestion, Hammer Strike, while the weapon was originally meant to be used to destroy civilizations, it does have the capacity to counter such threats by essentially overloading their method of consumption. The resulting explosion would result in a similar effect to what is already performed by the Crystal Ponies when they activate the crystal heart to distribute that magic better throughout the hemisphere,” Vega noted.
“Theoretically, It would overload them,” Hammer Strike started. “We don’t have an exact way to measure the potential these things have.” He took a moment and rubbed the side of his head. “It’s already bad enough for what I can do. But this? I’m terrified of the concept.”
“If one of those things should return, we will need a terror to match it. You and I both know what happens otherwise.”
“Damn it,” he growled out. Edna had hit the nail on the head, and despite his augments rushing through calculations and probabilities, the odds still leaned heavily in favor of Edna’s argument. “Fine. I’ll … I’ll figure something out.”
“And when you do, I will help you, if you wish it. If you would prefer to keep the method of its construction to yourself, I will respect that choice. I know the less who know how it works, the better.”
“You’ll know. I couldn’t be the only one burdened with this. Its concept alone is more than I could handle.”
“Then don’t handle it alone.” Harmony’s translucent form appeared immediately before the stallion. “That is what you have friends for.” Her horn touched his forehead, sending waves of the familiar peace to calm the roiling surge of his anxiety. “And it is why you have me.”
“Yeah.” He sighed softly as he rubbed his forehead. “Thanks.”
“Any time, darling. I put a lot of effort into this world. I’m not about to let it go to waste now,” Edna said.
“No, I—” He sighed once more. “I keep forgetting nobody else can hear her. Mind drawing more power just for the brief conversation? Makes it easier for them to see you when explaining this,” he asked Harmony.
“As you wish,” Harmony replied. The air seemed almost to waver for a moment, and then she stood there in the physical realm in all her multifaceted glory. The projection wasn’t physical, but it was visible. “Hello, Edna. I am Harmony, the sister of Discord. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, even if it isn’t technically in person.”
Edna stared at the astral Alicorn for a time. “My gods, he actually did it.” Edna laughed. “Andre, you rascal.”
“Hammer Strike is the one I have to thank for my survival. Were it not for him, I might have been destroyed. And without me, well … let’s just say the method would have been lost in my brother’s madness.”
“We established a tether for her to use power from myself for manifestation and growth of her physical form,” Hammer Strike explained.
“And she can reach this far, despite being bound to a physical form?” Edna asked, intrigued as she began to study the projection up close.
“She’s tied to me, so wherever I am, she can manifest.”
“You have been busy,” Edna said as she glanced slyly at the stallion.
“We helped each other to grow during those days. It seems only right that I provide my support to him again now.”
“With the four of us working together, then, we’ll have this project finished in no time.” Edna smirked. “When did you want to get to work?”
“Give me time to look over the blueprints.” Hammer Strike frowned. “I need to figure out how I’m going to set this up.”
Edna nodded. “Very well. I’ll have my assistants on standby when you’re ready,” she promised.
“I’ll keep that in mind.” He sighed. “I have a feeling one of the trio is going to have some major questions.”
“Which trio would that be?” Edna asked.
“Sleipnir, Bonnie, and Faust. Maybe Bahamut as well.”
“In that case, you’ll be just fine.”
“Yeah, sure, they’ll just accept what I’m going to be building,” Hammer Strike remarked flatly.
The sarcasm was palpable, but Edna remained nonplussed as she leveled a serious gaze at the stallion. “Exactly.”
